|The Alvin Chronicles REBORN
Author: Rifle PM
Alvin is a normal kid at a normal school with extremely strange friends, living out a normal existence when suddenly a cataclysmic event sends him and his friends into a new world of adventure. How will he cope? Characters based on my real life friends.Rated: Fiction K+ - English - Adventure/Humor - Chapters: 17 - Words: 79,603 - Reviews: 1 - Favs: 3 - Follows: 2 - Updated: 01-07-13 - Published: 03-06-12 - id: 3003077
|A+ A- Full 3/4 1/2 Expand Tighten|
Chapter Thirty One: Death by P90
A crowd gathered at the beach, watching as a lone fishing vessel with open sails tugged the charred sailboat towards the hidden harbor just around the bend. It was a haunting sight, punctuated by the rhythm of the lapping waves at the shoreline. Victoria, Howard and Victor stood amongst the crowd, drying themselves off and following the boats with wary eyes.
"That boat...what happened to it?" Howard asked.
"Looks like it sailed into someone's BBQ party," Matt observed.
"I miss BBQ," Victoria said. "But that's not the point."
Matt nodded. "We should report to Glen's tavern."
"Damn it," Howard frowned. "I wish we could stay at the beach longer."
Matt slung the M40A5 sniper rifle across his back.
"We can always come back tomorrow, dude," he reminded Howard. "It's not like today's our last day here. We still have to look for that crest, remember?"
"Matt, are you talking about toothpaste?" Howard asked.
"Yeah, totally," Matt replied dryly. "Brushing teeth turns me on."
"Wanna brush my teeth then?" Howard offered.
"Get back to me when I find the perfect cactus branch."
Victor rubbed his chin.
"Say, doesn't the boat look like it was hit by a missile?" he observed.
The four of them stared as the charred boat disappeared beyond the bend.
"Now that you mention it, it kind of does," Victoria shot a glance at Victor. "But wait, wouldn't that mean-"
"Dude! Holy crap, yes! That must be it!" he exclaimed, catching the attention of some local bystanders in the vicinity. "The missile we saw shooting up out of the Alps hit that boat sometime earlier today!"
Matt stared at the bend. Listening to some of the idle gossip around him, he deduced that there was perhaps some kind of harbor around the bend. And of course, where there be harbor, there be boats. Which meant that the charred boat was being towed to the harbor.
Matt wasn't really sure what to do with this information.
Old man Jonas slammed his mug down onto the wooden table. Specks of beer foam shot out of his beard as he continued to laugh heartily, pounding his knee repeatedly with a fist.
Alvin and Peter, sitting on the other side of the round table, shifted uncomfortably on their barstools. They each held a mug of water in their hands, but weren't taking any sips. Peter's eyes kept shifting towards an armored knight standing next to the bar counter, no doubt posted there as a guard.
"So they really use buckets to lower 'emselves into the canyons, aye?!" Jonas guffawed. "What'd they use for them buckets- RUM buckets?! HAWHAWHAWHAW!"
He motioned over to the bartender.
"Oi, barty! Bring me another keg!"
The bartender- a middle-aged man with well-trimmed brown hair and thick handlebar mustache- arrived and placed another mug in front of Jonas, who rubbed his hands in glee.
"I used to hoist me some rum buckets back when I was a wee lad of fifty!" exclaimed Jonas. "Full o' rum up to the brim, ye see, or at least before I got me hands on them! HAWHAWHAWHAW!"
"Hahahahahaha!" Alvin leaned forward and laughed along awkwardly, exposing his teeth in the process. Peter briefly glanced at Alvin before staring back at Jonas.
Still experiencing laughter aftershocks, Jonas wiped off his rosy-red cheeks with a white handkerchief and leaned back in his chair.
"So's just the two of ye laddies rode them buckets down the barren cliffs?" he reiterated.
"No, it wasn't just the two of us," Peter shook his head. "We were traveling in a group."
"Aye, a group of laddies?!" Jonas was impressed. "A merry band of travelers, a company of stalwart young'uns!"
Slowly, he leaned forward across the table. His chair creaked in harmony.
He spoke in a low, gravelly voice: "Any...any fair maidens in this merry band of yours?"
Alvin and Peter stared at Jonas.
"Nope," Peter replied matter-of-factly.
Alvin feverishly nodded his head in affirmation.
"Daww..." Jonas leaned back and wiped beer off his beard in genuine disappointment. "So what, ye jus' a merry band of sausages frolickin' across the Kingdom wilds?!"
"Well, not exactly true," Peter answered. "We do have three ladies in our group."
"Two," Alvin corrected him.
"One-point-five," Peter corrected himself.
"Oh?" Jonas's interest was piqued again. He rested his chin on his fists. "An' tell me, laddies, why're ye bringin' fair maidens on yer grand journey of youth? The Kingdom wilds are rough and tough to tha bone, ya know?"
"They can handle themselves just fine," Alvin shrugged. "I mean, one is a huntress, after all-"
Without warning, Jonas bolted up to his feet, slamming both hands on the table. Alvin and Peter whirled around to discover that the knight standing next to the bar counter was now approaching them with a plated hand on his sword hilt.
"HAAAAAAAAAAAW!" Jonas picked up the edges of the wooden table with two burly hands and, in a freakish display of strength, pivoted around and smashed the meat of the table straight into the approaching knight's helmet. The table disintegrated into pieces of wood; mugs flew into the air. The knight collapsed to the tavern floor, out cold.
The bartender shot Jonas an annoyed stare that seemed to say "You better pay for that". The other patrons whispered amongst themselves, and erupted into drunken laughter and cheers.
Old man Jonas brushed wooden splinters off his hands and promptly dragged over a replacement table before sitting back down again.
Alvin and Peter stared with hanging jaws.
"Ol' Jonas has still got it!" Jonas announced heartily, flashing his biceps and pounding his chest. He leaned in close to the two travelers and lowered his voice.
"Follow me. We're leavin'," he said.
"Leaving? How- what- but you just knocked out a knight!" Alvin pointed at the unconscious knight on the floor buried in bits and pieces of table.
"Jelly bastard came ta arrest us," Jonas explained.
"Why would he do that?!" Alvin protested.
"Huntress, laddy, the huntress," Jonas inquired.
Alvin stared at old man Jonas.
"Ye travel the lands, and ye still be livin' under rocks, laddy?" continued Jonas. "The king's got somethin' against the huntresses, all huntresses, has been fer the past year or so. That's why he's got them royal knights stakin' out here in Villecio."
Alvin and Peter suddenly thought back to Elise, who to their knowledge was still with Daryl and Jenny in the crowded Villecio marketplace.
"Those knights are looking for Elise?" Peter reiterated, dumbstruck. His British accent was slipping back in.
"She should be okay," Alvin attempted to find a silver lining. "She's with Jenny, after all."
"But Jenny's not equipped to take on those knights," Peter hissed back. "We're all still high school students, for crying out loud."
"You do have a point," whispered Alvin.
Peter bit his lip in thought.
"HAWHAWHAWHAW!" Jonas craned his head back and rumbled in laughter.
"Why are you laughing?" Alvin asked timidly.
"I jes be thinkin', many moons have passed since I last had meself an adventure! 'Tis a good feeling! Me warrior blood's runnin' again!"
Jonas cupped his hands and shouted over to the bartender.
"Aye, I made a mess, didn't I? Oi! barty! Keep the bladie! 'Tis my payment to you!"
He began walking towards the front entrance of the tavern. Alvin and Peter hastily followed suit.
"Where are we going?" Peter asked.
"To fetch yer huntress lassie friend, aye!" Jonas announced. "No tellin' what'll happen if them bastards get their grubby lil' hands on her!"
The three of them left the tavern and stood in the busy street, soaking in the sunshine. Jonas turned to Alvin and Peter, his biceps pulsing.
"But before we goes out on this adventure, laddies, tell me one thing..."
"...yes?" Alvin and Peter meekly asked.
"This huntress lassie...is she pretty?" Jonas inquired, completely serious.
"WHAT ARE YOU, A PEDO?!" Alvin and Peter shouted in unison.
The rooftops of Villecio consisted of rusted iron panels, no doubt manufactured by the Kalzanis Forge many generations ago. The panels weren't sturdy; quite the opposite, actually. Daryl and Elise had to continuously watch their step as they bounded from one roof to the next, in the general direction of Glen's tavern at the opposite end of the village.
Daryl's mind kept flashing back to Jenny, who had sacrificed her own safety to give both him and Elise a chance to escape. Daryl hoped she was okay.
"Are...they...behind...us?!" Daryl huffed and puffed as he blew the house down.
Elise glanced over her shoulder mid-jump. The crossbow on her back partially obscured her rear-view peripherals.
"I don't see anyone!" she reported.
"Good!" Daryl replied.
"But I do see two people sprinting after us!"
Daryl turned to look behind him. Sure enough, there were two men in armored leather gear jumping and flipping over rooftops in full pursuit of them both.
"WHY DIDN'T YOU SAY SO EARLIER?!" Daryl shouted as he turned his focus back to the rusty panels shifting beneath his scurrying feet.
"I didn't want to upset you!" was Elise's reply.
Who were the people chasing them?! Freaking parkour ninjas?! Daryl glanced behind him again just in time to catch one of the pursuers front-flipping from one building to another.
"Elise! If we both die, I'm sorry!" Daryl exclaimed, eyes wide.
"Is that the tavern?!" Elise pointed at a dark building looming up directly in front of them.
Glen's Tavern, said the sign on the side of the building.
"THAT MUST BE IT!" Daryl shouted with a mixture of both panic and relief in his voice.
Both Daryl and Elise glanced at each other, then at the leather-armored pursuers behind them. The "parkour ninjas" had pulled out shiny silver swords, and were steadily gaining ground.
"WE HAVE TO GET THOSE TWO OFF OUR TAIL FIRST!" Daryl shouted. Adrenaline was pumping through his veins.
"Got it!" Elise nodded.
With mutual understanding, the two of them split off in different directions: Daryl to the right, and Elise to the left.
Maybe it'll be easier to throw them off one-on-one, Daryl thought. If he could draw one of the pursuers to himself, then maybe, just maybe he could figure out a way to lose him-
Both pursuers veered to the left in full pursuit of Elise, drawing closer and closer to their prey with each stride.
"Oh crap!" Daryl exclaimed. He pivoted...and lost his balance, crashing into iron panels in the process.
"ELIIISE!" Daryl shouted with all his might. He probably alerted half of Villecio with that shout, but he didn't care. All he knew was that Elise was in even more danger, and it was partially his fault.
Elise, still running as fast she could, turned to face her pursuers. Her eyes widened as they both lunged at her with swords drawn. Is this it? Is this going to be the end?
A chain of sharp crackling sounds pierced through the air. Bullet holes ripped through the torsos of both pursuers, and they fell lifeless onto the iron roof panels inches away from Elise, who had lost her own balance and taken a rough tumble into a pile of conveniently placed hay.
Gunshots?! Daryl whipped his head towards the source of the sharp crackling noises, shocked and dazed.
A lone figure stood up on a roof panel an equal distance away from both Elise and Daryl. This figure wore nondescript black clothes, and had a crude rabbit mask covering his face. A P90 submachine gun sat in his hands, its nozzle still smoking from freshly fired bursts.
What the?! A mysterious dude with a gun! Daryl scrambled to his feet, wary of the sudden appearance of this new variable. He slowly walked across roof panels towards the bale of hay that Elise had fallen into.
"Daryl, don't move!" the figure in the rabbit mask suddenly cried out, signaling Daryl to stop with an outstretched hand. Daryl froze in his tracks. That voice!
One of the pursuers had begun lifting himself to his feet, sword still in his right hand. His eyes focused themselves on the bale of hay, bent on only one command: Kill.
The figure in the rabbit mask promptly fired another short burst from his P90, and the pursuer collapsed to the roof panels, dead.
"K Daryl, now you can move!" the figure in the rabbit mask gave Daryl a thumbs up, and began jogging towards the bale of hay himself, P90 still in his grasp.
Daryl, still dazed, made his way across the roofs and reached the bale of hay without further incident. The figure in the rabbit mask reached in and pulled an equally dazed Elise out of the haystack.
"What's a stack of hay doing on someone's rooftop? I don't even," the figure in the rabbit mask muttered to himself.
"Hey Daniel, is that you under the mask?" Daryl asked, even though he already knew the answer.
The figure pulled off his mask. Sure enough, it was Daniel, yet another member of the Lunch Table.
"Ding ding ding! We have a winner!" Daniel smiled smugly. He placed a hand on Daryl's back. "Good to see you Daryn!"
"Thanks for saving us, Daniel. Thanks so so much. I thought we were gonna die!"
"And you WERE gonna die, if I hadn't saved you just now :)," agreed Daniel.
"Yeah, I probably was gonna die," Daryl deadpanned, letting the thought sink in.
"What just happened?" Elise was still in a daze. "Those two men were attacking, and then...?"
"I ownz0red those n00bs with mah P90!" Daniel held up the P90 high in the air for all to see.
Elise stared at Daniel before turning to Daryl. "Dayle? Who's he?"
"He's another friends from the Table," Daryl explained.
"Yes! The table!" Daniel exclaimed. He turned to Daryl. "Hey Dane, who's she? Who did I just save?"
"Her name's Elise," Daryl explained to Daniel, slightly annoyed by all the mispronunciations of his name. "She's a huntress from Eretree, a local. And my name's not Dane!"
Daniel turned to face Elise. "Elaine, huh? And so I heard you were a huntress."
Both Daryl and Elise didn't really get what Daniel was trying to tell them.
"See those n00bs?" Daniel gestured towards the two dead bodies behind him. "They were assassins. You know, like Altair, Ezio, Agent 47, etc?"
"Assassins?" Daryl crouched down to get a closer look at the bodies.
"Yes, and they had a mission to complete," Daniel continued to explain. "A very specific mission."
"And what was this very specific mission that they had to complete?" Elise asked.
"To kill you," Daniel pointed at Elise.
"Huh?!" Elise's eyes grew wide in shock. Did the Kingdom really want the fifty Doros claw tribute THAT badly? Were they after her because of what she- no, Jenny- had done to that douchey constable back at the cabin? Would they really go that far?
"Woah there, Daniel, don't scare her like that," Daryl interrupted the scene. "Elise has been through a lot recently, you know. Her state of mind is still a bit fragile."
"It's only the truth, Dave," Daniel shrugged. "I learned a lot over these past few days, scavenging in the streets with Kenneth. Hell, I even scavenged this fancy P90 from someone's house! Aren't I such a boss? Come on Dave, say it! Say it! Say 'Daniel's such a baws'. Say it, Dane!"
"Kenneth's here too?!" Daryl's jaw dropped.
"Yeah, that guy," Daniel rubbed his chin. "We split as soon as those two n00bs started chasing you two. He's out helping our other friend in need, right now."
Chapter Thirty Two
"When the pimp's in the crib ma drop like it's hot, drop it like it's hot, drop it like it's hot~ When the pigs try ta get at ya, park it like it' hot, park it like it's hot, park it like it's hot, yo~"
The three knights in the alleyway turned their attention away from Jenny and looked up at the strange man in the sunglasses who was bobbing his hips back and forth on the edge of the roof above and throwing out random street gestures while rapping in a chilled voice. Jenny herself couldn't help but look up as well.
"Who goes there?!" the knight commander yelled up at the dude in the sunglasses. "State your name, residence, and reason for business in this village!"
"...I got the rolly on my arm and I'm pourin' Chandon and I roll the best weed 'cause I got it going on," Kenneth continued to rap.
The three knights stared at each other.
"I'm a nice dude, with some nice dreams, see these ice cubes, see these ice creams~?"
Kenneth promptly dumped a bucket full of ice cubes onto the heads of the three knights.
"Argh! What the-"
"We're under attack! Someone get him off the roof!"
"You're not going anywhere!" Using this distraction to her full advantage, Jenny swung the blunt end of her cleaver into the side of the knight commander's head as hard as she could. A huge dent appeared in the side of the knight commander's helmet, and the unlucky owner of the helmet dropped to the cobblestone floor with a dull metallic thud.
"Nay, ignore the one on the roof!" The first of the two remaining knights ordered the other, pointing at Jenny. "That woman is the more immediate threat! Take her down!"
The two knights raised their swords and converged on Jenny, their focus renewed.
"Yo yo yo, you snitches can't just IGNORE the K-Dawg! I'm the SHIZ!" Kenneth promptly dumped a bucket full of horse manure onto the knights.
"Argh!" The knights flailed blindly. They both ripped off their manure-coated helmets, exposing two faces contorted in disgust.
"Eat feces, you detritivores!" cried Jenny. She lunged forward, catching the knees of both helmetless knights with her outstretched arms. As Jenny stood on to her feet, the two knights were flipped up and over, landing face first into the manure cart behind Jenny.
The raunchy smell of crap overwhelmed the nostrils of both knights, knocking them both out of consciousness.
Jenny stood in the alleyway, catching her breath. She glanced over to her right. The manure cart owner was still fast asleep against the wall. She glanced up at the roof.
"Who are you?" she asked, still gasping for breath.
"I'm Kenneth!" replied Kenneth. "But you can call me Grand Masta K-Dawg Daddy G!"
"I will just call you Kenneth," Jenny replied. "Hi Kenneth. I'm Jenny."
"J-Dawg yo yo what's up?!" Kenneth cocked his head to one side, staring at the sky through his trendy sunglasses. "I see you tight with my homeboy Daryl D! You from Lynbroooook?"
"I go to Paly," Jenny answered. "And you know Daryl? Were you stalking us back there in the market?"
"Hell yeah, dawg! Me and Daniel both!"
"Daniel? Which Daniel?"
"Daddy D Danger H fo homie yo!"
"...I do not comprehend."
"Neither do I, 'cause you were cutting it close there, Jenny!" Kenneth shook his head in rhythm. "Taking on three knights by yourself? What was you thinkin'?!"
"I had a plan in mind," Jenny thoughts turned to the black knife on her waist. If Kenneth hadn't shown up when he did, she probably would have turned to that knife again...
Kenneth began doing a little gangsta jig on the roof. "Yo, tell you what: I show you to Glen's, have one big happy reunion with all of our frands, and catch up on them stories, ya dig?"
"Before I dig, I just have to ask: what about Daryl and Elise?" Jenny asked. "Do you know where they are?"
Faint gunshots echoed in the distance, catching the attentions of both Kenneth and Jenny. Panicked seagulls took to the air.
"That'd be Daniel," said Kenneth.
"...with a submachine gun," Jenny wondered aloud.
"Does it really matter, yo?" said Kenneth.
"Yes," was Jenny's answer.
"Aight, you lookin' for answers? Then I'll give it to you straight," Kenneth performed a dramatic gesture with waving hands and arms. "It was a chilly day, and the sky was gray, performin' tasks were me and Dan walkin' down those streets yo hand in hand- no wait, scratch that last verse. We weren't actually walkin' on the streets hand in hand, yo. That'd be unmanly."
"You really like rapping," Jenny observed.
"Dude, I spit rhymes yo! That my creed!" Kenneth rapped. "My cred! My daily joint of metaphysicism! Yo, those verses didn't rhyme, but that's coo! Rockin' the free verse, dawg!"
More gunshots echoed in the distance, causing both Kenneth and Jenny to look up again.
"Sounds like Daniel's having some trouble out there," Jenny said. "Or maybe Daniel's not the one firing that weapon... Kenneth, that's your name right? Prove that you went to Lynbrook."
"Oh I am who I am, all right," Kenneth assured her. "I'm K-Dawg, G of the G in the land of the free!"
"Then who's Alvin?" Jenny imposed.
"Alvin? He's my bro, yo! Brother from another mother! Got them grooves on his hands from that lunch table and a winning smile! He also digs them...YOUNG BLOODS like there ain't no tomorrow...if ya know what I mean!"
Kenneth lifted a hand to his chin and twitched his eyebrows up and down twice.
"Yep, that sounds like Alvin," said Jenny, satisfied. "All right Kenneth, I shall trust you."
Meanwhile, at Glen's tavern...
Looks like I'm the first one here.
Patrick stood at the entrance to the tavern, observing his surroundings. There were only two others in the bar: a bartender busy cleaning some wine glasses with his back facing Patrick, and a helmetless knight standing guard just inside the entrance with crossed arms and a steely stare aimed at the new arrival. Patrick ignored the knight and dragged himself directly over to the bartender. His head felt dizzy, and he wanted to find Glen as soon as possible.
"Hey, bartender..." Patrick leaned forward against the bar counter to support himself. The laptop in his backpack pressed against his back as he did so.
The bartender turned to face Patrick. It was the weasel man with the bulgy eyes, the same man who had brought Glen's message to the entire group on the bluff outside Villecio.
"Yes...?" the weasel man answered. His large eyes narrowed into slits as he analyzed Patrick's appearance.
"You're that guy!" Patrick pointed at the weasel man, quite surprised.
"I have seen you before...," the weasel man shot a quick glance across the tavern floor, towards the knight guarding the entrance. "You're looking for...Glen, are you not?"
Patrick nodded. His forehead was starting to burn, and he felt like passing out. He had to find a bed quick!
"Glen is out collecting...rum supplies..." the weasel man informed Patrick. "He won't be back until...evening..."
Patrick let out an impatient sigh and rolled his eyes.
"However...he has prepared rooms...on the second floor...for your arrival..." the weasel man continued. His eyes shifted left and right. "Please do not...disturb the guests...on the third floor..."
Patrick glanced at the knight standing by the doorway.
"What about that knight?" he asked the weasel man in a quiet voice. "You told us to avoid knights, didn't you?"
"Yes...I did..." the weasel man replied mysteriously. "This one is just here...on routine guard duty...as long as you don't look suspicious...in a large group...he will not notice..."
"Okay, fine by me..." Patrick shook his head vigorously in an attempt to fight the constant fatigue that plagued him.
"I'll go up to my room now," Patrick said to the weasel man. "Thank you for the help."
He wandered over to the stairs located behind the bar and began to ascend the wooden steps slowly, one at a time. The wooden steps creaked with every step.
Why was he so tired all of a sudden? Was it due to the transition between the ice-cold climate of the Alps and the beach-like climate of Villecio? The others appeared to be fine, though. Why was Patrick the only one afflicted with this fatigue?
Patrick thought back to Jenny falling unconscious in the Kalzanis prison. Jenny had collapsed because of that black knife. Was a similar fatigue plaguing Patrick?
Patrick stepped off the stairs and found himself in a naturally-lit hallway. Paintless doors lined both sides, neatly blending into the walls.
A lone blond-haired girl stood at the other end of the hallway. She stared at Patrick, eyes wide in surprise. Patrick stared back, wondering why this girl was staring at him in surprise.
"Can I help you?" Patrick asked.
The blond-haired girl bit her lip. Without warning, she suddenly shuffled off into a room on her right, disappearing out of Patrick's line of sight.
Patrick stood in silence, wondering what the heck just happened. He glanced over at the wooden plaque to his left.
Ah, of course. Lost in thought, Patrick had gone up an extra flight of stairs to the third floor, instead of the second floor where his quarters were supposed to be. Man, I'm suddenly really out of it, for some reason.
As Patrick reentered the stairwell and descended down to the second floor, his wandering thoughts concentrated themselves on the mysterious occupant of the third floor.
Who was she?