Wildflower becomes Seth Brundle
RPG:
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Who: Coffey, Keto, Wildflower, Shakespeare, Trisees.
When: During the Party.
Where: The Gym.
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---------------------------Snip---------------------------------------
"Charles! Tis you!" exclaimed Shakespeare, firmly gripping Keto's
hand and shaking it. Keto only managed to remain upright by swaying
in the opposite direction of the shakes, "How ist thyself?"
"Two things," said Keto, holding up three fingers, "Is Trisees
awake as well, and where is he?"
-------------------------End Snip-------------------------------------
"Yes, that's what I was wondering as well. Where is Trisees? I
know he'd never refuse an opportunity to attend a mass gathering and
poke fun at the crew. Why isn't he here?" added Hazel Coffey, in a
slightly more coherent manner, to Keto's original question.
Shakespeare scratched the back of his head.
"P'raps we'st, with thy helpst of Jennifer, best be going to a
roometh quieter than one such as this. She be'th more qualified in
art t' explanation of mys't predicament," replied Shakespeare,
looking uneasy.
Coffey and Shakespeare took one of Keto's arm's each and dragged
him over to wildflower.
"Jennifer, I want explanations and I want them right now," said
Coffey. Keto backed her up by trying to point viciously at her, but
ended up poking himself in the face with a packet of peanuts.
Wildflower sighed.
"Sure, why not?" she asked herself.
The four of them left the gym and crossed oer the hallway to one of
the trillion briefing rooms that was located on the five mile ship.
Shakespeare placed Keto at a chair, before sitting next to the
inebriated Doctor and becoming a human prop. Coffey took a seat on
the other side of Keto and watched wildlfower, who took a seat to
face all three of them.
"Well, it all started after I broke up with Chrysler," began
Wildflower. "I had time on my hands. Too much time on my hands. I
needed to fill it with soemthign to keep me sane and take my muind
off my problems. What better than to solve one of the ultimate
medical quandries: A full scale biomolecular destabilisation in it's
most advanced stages. So I stole two of the portable stasis
capsules, moved the bodies of Shakespeare and Trisees down to Trisees
hide out in Supply Field B. It was tough keeping in under wraps, but
I go Holly to generate fake hologrammatic images of the two in the
top stasis tubes.
To cut a long medical story short, I discovered the reason for the
destablisation. You cannot create something from nothing. This is
what Trisees machine tried to do. It tried to create an entire body
from a template which only had enough for itself. As such, the
bodies began to break down with the organic material spread so
thinly. I'm surprised they even lived, to tell you the truth."
"Wait," interuppted Coffey. "If that's true, how did you fix it?"
"I didn't. There wasn't any way to," replied Wildflower. "There
was only one option: fusion. fusion using the original and highly
modified Trisees Splitting Machine."
There was silence.
Keto coughed.
"You mean that 'they' are now 'he'?"
"Yes. You asked where Trisees was and if he was awake, well, there
he is." Wildflower pointed at a bewildered Shakespeare.
"No, that's Shakespeare. You mean to tell me that you wiped out
the personality of Trisees? You disposed of a real human being?"
Wildflower hesitated.
"Not exactly," she said.
"I'm dreading this part," said Coffey.
"See that watch around Shakespeare's wrist?" Wildflower asked.
Everyone turned to look at Shakespeare's arm. Sure enough, a bulky
wristwatch was around his left wrist. But it wasn't just around his
wrist, it seemed to be permanently fixed to it.
"A pox on thyse contrpation, tis stuck to myeth skin!" said
Shakespeare, tugging at it.
"William, don't do that. That's your timer. Look at the time and
read out what it says," asked Wildflower.
Shakespeare relented his grip and read aloud the numbers.
"19:35. What'st doth that mean?"
"That clock counts backwards from 24:00. When it reaches zero
*bingo* we have personality flip."
There was silence again.
Coffey broke it.
"Every 24 hours the personalities swtich? You mean, Shakespeare
will be alive for 24 hours, then swtich, it's Trisees turn for 24
hours and then switch again and we have Shakespeare back to us?"
"Precisely. It was the only fair way," confirmed Wildflower.
"Jennifer, you are insane, how could you condone doing this to
someone's life?!"
Wildflowr looked puzzled.
"I thougth you'd be happy. You got Shakespeare back."
"Yes, but only every other day!"
"It was my fault that that idiot Trisees couldn't split the atom!"
"No but you had to make Shakespeare into some kind of living
timeshare!"
"MAIDENS!" hollered Shakespeare, cutting short the argument between
Coffey and wildflower.
"I foreth one ams't happy to bee'th back. Any'st tiem spernt with
thou fairest Coffey, is time spent in heaven for'eth me. Even if't
be every'st other day."
Coffey looked at Shakespeare, her anger dissolving.
"Come'st, we shouldeth be enjoying thy Halloween party. I fear I
nay wore such despicable rag as this to not haveth shot at best
costume!"
Shakespeare picked up Keto, who'd fallen asleep sometime during
Wildlfower's explanation, and lifted him onto his back.
"Come," he commanded.
The quartet re-entered the party, Wildflower splitting off to go
and find the Tree, whilst Shakespeare placed the dozing Keto at the
table of Spooky Fruity Punch.
"William, are you sure you're okay with this whole 24 hour thing?"
"Hazel, I amst ableth to holds't you, to converse with thou
brillaint mind, to see you'st with'st out usuing my imagainationeth.
I couldeth nay be more happy. Let'usth make thy most of the hours
nineteen afore Trisees maketh his return."
They smiled and lightly kissed, before resuming their original
position on the dance floor.
Keto suddenly opened his eyes and sat up straight.
"Fusion? With the machine? How did she fix it?" he asked, but
seeing how no one who cared enough was around him, he decided that it
was probably time to let the matter lie. Shakespeare was back,
Trisees would be too in just over 19 hours. And he had really better
stop eating peanuts.
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