It was a very rare occasion indeed when the Interdimensional Tavern was closed to customers. Barring the winter holidays, the establishment had only shut its doors out of schedule once before in recent memory, at the very peak of the Rifts Crisis, as the multidimensional chaos had reached a fever pitch just before the grand and final Fall of the Palatium. There was, it would seem, only one force matching – in the eyes of the Tavern staff – the pressure of a mounting multiversal collapse; that being the will of Jenny Everywhere.
“I don’t see what they’ve ever done for us.” Roz grumbled, as she pushed another table out of the dining area. “I mean, don’t get me wrong, I like that Juliet alright – but…”
“Well, it is Jenny.” Frederick reasoned, supporting the other side of the table with three of his tentacles. “And they have been good customers, all told. At least… after the first visit. After we told them the rules.”
“Yeah. Who’d’ve thought a race of clockwork constructs with one overriding purpose would be willing to put it all aside for our fare?”
“WHO WOULDN’T?” came the amplified electronic voice of ‘234, peering out from the kitchen with a piqued expression on his simple face. “GIVE ME A DAY, AND I WILL COOK A FEAST WHICH THE COUNCIL OF FROGS ITSELF WOULD COME DOWN TO TRY!”
Standing on the other side of the room, Jenny surveyed the dining area with a smile. She hadn’t actually been sure it would be possible to clear away all but one of the ever-shifting number of tables in the Tavern’s possession, but the waiters had seen no difficulty in it – only mild annoyance. Which was fair, and the reason Jenny was helping as best she could, shifting as many items of furniture as she could manage to join their counterparts on the other side of the room.
Eventually, she stopped, took a breath, and looked again at the near-empty floor. Yes – this would do. Bounding over to Volensholagoz, who was watching from his armchair, she bent down on-level with the tennis ball.
“You’re an absolute sweetheart, Vol’, you know that?” she said with a smile. There was a pause. “Aw, it was nothing! Where else would I have gotten my drinks?” Another pause. “Oh, don’t worry. They may seem like a strange crowd – but I promise, they’ll behave.”
A chill came suddenly over all present in the Tavern; an atmosphere of eldritch, putrefying unexistence. Jenny grinned as her husband, the former Lord Thymon of the Outer Void, bled slowly into material existence.
“SoRrY i’m LaTe.” he rumbled, wringing two tendrils nervously. “I jUsT hAd To Be CeRtAiN tHaT sHe WaS fUlLy AwArE oF tHe CoNsEqUeNcEs ShOuLd AnY hArM cOmE tO oUr DaUgHtEr.”
Smiling sympathetically, Jenny laid her hands over Thymon’s fidgeting tendrils, and they fell calm beneath her touch.
“Thyme, it’ll be fine.” she promised. “It isn’t going to take any more than an hour.”
“An HoUr!?” Thymon mewled, his eye widening. “AlOnE, wItH tHaT wOmAn?”
“She’s promised. And you don’t get those lightly, not from her.” Jenny replied. She paused, finally processing Thymon’s earlier words. “Wait. What did you do?”
Thymon crossed his tentacles, casting his eye sheepishly away.
“ReVeAlEd To HeR a GlImPsE oF tHe TrUe VaStNeSs Of My EyE aNd Of ThE dArK sEcReTs ThAt LiE wItHiN mY hEaRt AnD tHe AnCiEnT tRuThS yEt UnToLd ThAt LiE sLuMbErInG bEtWeEn ThE cRaCkS oF tHe WoRlD. sHoWeD tO hEr ThE rUiN oF eNtRoPy DeVoUrInG sTaR aFtEr StAr, WoRlD aFtEr WoRlD – tHe InExOrAbLe AdVaNcE oF dEcAy, ToPpLiNg AnY tHaT sTaNdS iN iTs WaY, nO mAtTeR hOw PoWeRfUl – AnD sHoWeD tO hEr ThE wAy In WhIcH iT oNcE cOwErEd BeFoRe Me.”
“Oh, that old trick.” Jenny said with a nod. “And what did she say?”
“ShE sAiD,” Thymon grumbled, sounding terribly offended, “”fAsCiNaTiNg! I’D lOvE tO pErFoRm A fEw TeStS sOmEdAy, SeE wHaT eLsE yOu CaN dO.” As If I wErE a FaNcY nEw VoId ShIp!”
Jenny laughed, long and hard.
“Yep,” she eventually said, nodding, “That’s our Lor.”
She clapped her hands.
“Right!”
Turning, Jenny faced the lone table which remained in the dining area, then drew a camcorder from out of one of her pockets.
“The issue at hand. Let’s get started!”
She reached into her other pocket, and drew out a battered old reel of film, which she lay on the table. The waiters peered at it, reading the scratchy handwriting on the label – “CCCC commercial – final version.”
“What’s this?” Frederick asked.
“A commercial that the Crew tried to film, almost five years ago.” Jenny said. “It didn’t go very well, for anyone involved.”
“ThEiR aNnIvErSaRy Is CoMiNg Up.” Thymon explained. “So We ThOuGhT, aS tHaNkS fOr AlL tHaT tHe CuPiDs HaVe DoNe FoR uS, wE’D sOrT oF… rEmAkE iT fOr ThEm.”
Jenny nodded.
“And this is the only place we could get everyone together without raising suspicion.”
“Everyone?” Roz asked suspiciously, glancing at her fellow waiter. “Who’s everyone?”
“Oh, don’t worry.” Jenny replied. “No one you wouldn’t know.”
She switched on the camcorder, then angled it at the empty chair.
“Now,” she said, putting on an announcer’s voice, “Won’t you happy people tell us how the Crew of the Copper-Colored Cupids changed your life?”
******
The Fooling Fish were the first to arrive. This was somewhat unexpected, given their once-famous lack of punctuality – but being in possession of a time-ship tended to make up for such things. Having burst through the doors in a volley of confetti, the three Fish delegates sat down in the provided chairs, seeming eager to get started.
Flashing them a thumbs-up, Jenny aimed the camera.
“Well,” Bos’n Claptrap began, tapping her fingers ponderously upon the table, “The Cupids sure are fun to prank!”
The others nodded in agreement.
“Once,” said the Fish, “Back before we had our beloved Fish’N’Ship, we were sitting around, bored, and we saw a Cupid on a mission near our clubhouse, and we invited him in for a cool drink – but we put plastic bugs in the ice cubes! Ha! Boy, was he surprised!”
The Fish all smiled at the memory.
“And another time,” one of the others began, “We were sitting around, bored, and – “
“Um,” said Jenny, from behind the camera, holding up a finger. “This is all great stuff, really, but – “
“It IsN’T eXaCtLy WhAt We’rE lOoKiNg FoR.” Thymon finished.
“Oh.” said the Fish. Leaning in, they huddled together, beginning an ostentatious pantomime of a whispered conversation. After a moment, they drew back, nodded as one, and shook each other’s hands with a smile.
“We’ve got it!” one of them proclaimed. “You see, one time, we were sitting around – bored – and there was this Cupid who was walking next to our clubhouse, just below the window! So we filled up a water balloon – “
******
“Hey!” Frederick whispered, knocking on one of the Tavern’s interior doors. “It’s your turn!”
The scales of the giant armadillo’s armor clacked as the Drink-Mixer stepped through, giving an appreciative nod to the waiter before marching to the table. Pulling up a chair, they sat beside their two fellow Councilmembers, who had just finished materialising.
“Weeell…” the Frost King began, looking contemplative, “I suppooose myyy fiiirst encooounter wiiith the Copper-Cooolored Cuuuupids waaas wheeen twooo of theeem buuurgled me whiiile I waaas ooon hoooliday. Of cooourse, Taaarsa got in on the actiooon, tooo, buuut thaaat’s juuust the kiiind of rapooort weee haaave.”
“I’M sOrRy,” said Thymon, “BuT iS tHeRe AnY cHaNcE yOu CoUlD sPeAk FaStEr?”
“Nooo.” said the Frost King. “It’s paaart of my braaand.”
He looked Thymon up and down, then rubbed at his icicle-beard.
“Say, Thyyymooon, do yooou want to joooin the Cooouncil? Having a fooormer Embooodiment on the teeeam would ceeertainly booost our staaanding!”
“NoT pArTiCuLaRlY.”
“Faaair enooough.”
“Anyway,” said Lord Nachtos, tapping the table with a contemplative tendril, “I was going to destroy the Cupids’ Homeworld, once, to blow off some steam – but they invited me to join their holiday party, so I figured I’d let it slide. Ended up cheering me quite a bit, too.”
The Drink-Mixer put two of their glowstick fingers together and drew them apart as if slicing something in half. The Frost King nodded.
“Oooh, riiight. The Riiiifts. I gueeess theeey were preeetty heeelpful with thaaat, at the eeend.”
“Well,” said Nachtos, “As far as blowing up the Palatium goes, anyway. But it was Tarsa who closed the mother-Rift, all the same.”
“Quiiite goood of her, tooo.” the Frost King replied. “I didn’t expect it, you knooow – Tarsa leaving her wooorkshop to save the Muuultiveeerse. If yooou had aaasked me, I’d have saaaid she wooouldn’t have booothered.”
A crystalline tear formed in his spectral eye, and he wiped it away.
“Oh, I miss her.”
The others nodded sadly.
“I’m not sure this is going so well.” Jenny whispered. Thymon nodded.
“Are you sure you don’t want to join us?” Nachtos asked, fixing his pentagram-eye on the time-demon.
“No, ThAnK yOu, NaChToS, lOrD.” said Thymon, bowing his eye slightly. “bUt I gReAtLy ApPrEcIaTe ThE oFfEr.”
The Frost King looked affronted.
“You’re… scared of him?” Jenny puzzled.
“ThE gReAt LoRd NaChToS iS wOrThY oF eVeN mY rEsPeCt.” Thymon said, nodding.
Jenny glanced at the floating Christmas tree, the faint jingle of holiday carols constantly emanating from his aura. She shrugged, then knelt in an over-elaborate bow.
******
The Green Gorilla crossed his arms, his face a mask of annoyance.
“We were told this was an exclusive test screening for a new, green-ape-centric nature film, y’know.” he growled. “That’s the only reason I agreed to let this… noodle-man put his slimy tentacles on me.”
“I aM nOt SlImY!” Thymon protested. Jenny laid an arm around him, then turned to the Gorilla.
“I know, and I’m sorry.” she said. “But – look, based on what Pythe’s told me, your Gang has known the Crew longer than probably anyone.”
The Gorilla huffed.
“Urgh. Don’t remind me. I was there, you know. The Skirmish at the Vanityville Supermarket. My face still aches on rainy days.”
He rubbed at his snout, grimacing.
“Well, fine.” he continued. “Here’s what I think about the Cupids: they’re the rottenest, most irritating bunch of pests that ever set foot on the Earth, and I wish they’d all go home to their clouds and stop bothering us. So there.”
Jenny winced.
******
“Right this way, Sneer, ol’ pal!” said Larrikin-1029, escorting the fallen angel through the Tavern doors.
Sneer paused at the threshold, cat-like eyes widening at the sight of the bar.
“This is… a house of sin.” they said, worried.
They paused, then said, no less worried:
“I mean… this is a house of sin! Hurrah! …Was that correctly wicked?”
“Sure, pal!” Larrikin replied, patting Sneer’s arm. “Whatever feels right t’ ya!”
“Oh dear.” Sneer replied. “I would have sooner thought it might behoove me, instead, to focus on whatever feels wrong.”
There was a pause.
“That was a joke.” Sneer clarified. “Did its particular mixture of mistruth and wordplay spark mirth in you?”
“We’ll work on it.” Larrikin replied. “But good start!”
By the table, Thymon turned to Jenny.
“WhY iS lArRiKiN hErE?” he asked. “i ThOuGhT tHiS wAs MeAnT tO bE a SuRpRiSe. AnD wHiLe I lOvE aLl Of OuR cUpId FrIeNdS – i WoUlD nOt HaVe ChOsEn ThAt OnE tO iNvItE.”
“I know, I know,” Jenny whispered back. “But Sneer said they wouldn’t come without him.”
“Hiya, Jenny! Hi, Thymon!” Larrikin called, as he and Sneer ambled over to them. “Didja get my present?”
“ThE… cAkE?” Thymon guessed, thinking back to the pile of dirt and sticks with the words ‘hapy birth sofee’ spelled out on in rocks atop it which he had found on a serving platter on his doorstep that morning. “yEs, It WaS… vErY lOvElY. tHaNk YoU. aLtHoUgH – sOpHiE WaS BoRn SeVeRaL mOnThS aGo.”
“Yeah, but I didn’t think of it till last night.” Larrikin explained. “So I brought it by nice and early, so as t’ get it in as close as possible!”
“WeLl, ThAnK yOu FoR cOmInG.” Thymon said. “bUt – ThIs Is MeAnT tO bE a SeCrEt, So CoUlD yOu PeRhApS gO oVeR sOmEwHeRe ElSe FoR a MoMeNt WhIlE wE – “
“Don’t worry!” Larrikin said, hopping onto the bar and sitting down, much to the Drink-Mixer’s displeasure. “I won’t look! It’ll be like I’m not even here!”
Having made this proclamation, he pulled a pair of binoculars from parts unknown and began watching intently.
“Larrikin…” Sneer asked, turning to the Cupid with concern, “Are you sure this is properly wicked?”
“Aw, don’t think in black-an’-white, Sneer!” Larrikin called. “It’s fun to be in movies – that’s all that matters!”
“Well…” Sneer began, as Jenny focused the camera on the demon, relieved to see that it only caused a few perfunctory, minor, and non-threatening audiovisual glitches to spontaneously appear on the viewing screen. “Alright. Let me see… I first met the Cupids in my former guise, that of Sneernobiel the Self-Righteous, when one of them summoned and bound me, refusing to grant me my release.”
“Tell ’em about the miracle, Sneer!” Larrikin called.
“Yes.” Sneer said with a nod. “I performed a miracle to save that Cupid’s very life – and yet, I remained cruelly imprisoned.”
“Oh, oh, mention the war!”
“I was in the middle of a great War in Heaven!” Sneer said, indignant. “And while I would surely have fought among different company then I would now choose, my goal would even now align with that of my former legion – for in this battle, Hell fights, albeit begrudgingly, on the side of the angels.”
“Can ya believe that? A war, with demons and whatnot!” Larrikin chimed, tsk-tsking. “How could anyone take someone away from that?”
Jenny rubbed at her temples.
Over at the bar, the Green Gorilla approached Larrikin. He frowned angrily.
“Hey!” he said. “You’re a Cupid!”
“Don’t worry about it, pal.” Larrikin replied, shaking his head. “I ain’t even here.”
******
“You’re going to have to field this one.” said the Queen of the Black Market to her girlfriend, who was sitting in the chair next to her.
Wendy cast her a disgruntled look, and she shrugged.
“Sorry, Wendy, but I’m barely on not-killing-on-sight terms with those copper parasites.”
“ThEn WhY dId YoU cOmE?” Thymon asked, his eye narrowing.
The Queen tapped the invitation which they had sent her.
“Free drinks.” she replied. “Waiters! Artarin spiceblood, and make it snappy.”
“Right!” said Jenny, focusing the camera on Wendy. “Okay! Wendy, you’re on!”
Wendy looked at the camera, frowning.
“So, what – you want me to say nice things about the Crew of the Copper-Colored Cupids?”
Jenny nodded encouragingly.
“Well – ” Wendy continued, “Look. I like Pythe, he’s a great guy. Er, robot. Robot guy, whatever. But – no, I honestly don’t think the Crew itself deserves much praise. I mean – I can overlook it, because there’s a lot of messed-up stuff in the multiverse and sometimes that stuff is…”
She cast a glance at the Queen, who had just received her drink and was now sipping the blood from her goblet.
“Weirdly great, too. But – this is a legion of robots whose eternal goal is to go around overwriting people’s free will. It… happened to me, and I can’t even think about that because it just sends me into an existential crisis. I… don’t think that’s a good thing.”
Behind the camera, Jenny bit her lip, rubbing awkwardly at her arm.
“Let’s… break for snacks.” she suggested.
******
With a shuddering thump, a Void Hopper touched down in the Tavern’s parking lot. The doors opened, and two elaborately-dressed figures stepped out – one in modified Imperial robes, the other in an elegant black dress.
“Right!” Smith said cheerfully, heading for the doors. “I think we’re on time… this time.”
He rubbed sheepishly at the back of his neck.
“I hope that little side-step to the Tavern’s early days doesn’t alter anything. But that one-eyed waitress really liked the octopus statue we picked up at that bazaar, and…”
He blinked.
“Er – wait. The Tavern have always had an octopus statue. …Haven’t they? Oh – oh dear…”
Behind him, Briar skipped lightly along, watching the passing ships with fascination as they skirted past roving eldritch abominations en route to far-flung universes.
“I didn’t know to ask, last time we were in the Tavern,” she said curiously, “But how do we see only a few ships at a time, here? If there are an infinite number of universes, and an infinite number of dimensional travellers within them… shouldn’t there be an infinite number of ships passing through every inch of the void, every instant?”
“Ah! Well…” Smith mused, as he stalked across the grass-like substance which covered the tiny floating bit of land on which the Tavern sat. “If I remember my Academy training correctly… the Void Between Worlds isn’t really a space, not something that can be measured in inches. It’s more… abstract and symbolic than that. Besides which – not every dimensional traveller passes through ‘our’ Void, and even if they do, it might not be our perception of it.”
Briar nodded, looking up at the makeshift sky with wonder before running to catch up with her companion. He held the door, and they entered the warm atmosphere of the Tavern, just as Briar remembered it – although with significantly less tables than last time.
“Smith,” Briar said quietly, voicing a concern she’d been pondering since they’d received the invitation. “I don’t really know very much about these Cupids. We’ve never actually met.”
“To be honest,” Smith said, leaning in close, “I don’t know them very well, either.”
Briar frowned.
“Then why – ?”
“Well,” Smith replied, straightening up, “I knew there’d be some fascinating people here. I thought you might like to meet them. Not many chances for meeting people in tiny villages, I wouldn’t think.”
Briar cast her eyes around the room – taking in, among others, a gaggle of people dressed like Fish sneaking plastic versions of various foodstuffs into the cupboards, what looked to be a ghost making idle small talk with a disgruntled green primate, and a large pufferfish with arachnid legs mixing drinks while chatting with her old acquaintance Lord Nachtos. She smiled.
“Thank you, Smith.” she said. “I believe I would.”
******
“I’m not sure this is going so well.” Jenny said, pacing in worried circles around ‘234.
Thymon nodded.
“I tHoUgHt ThAt ThErE mUsT sUrElY bE mAnY pEoPlE oThEr ThAn MySeLf WhO hAvE rEcOgNiSeD tHe ObViOuS qUaLiTiEs InHeReNt In ThE cOpPeR cUpId. But… It’s BeGiNnInG tO oCcUr To Me ThAt MoSt Of ThOsE wItH wHoM tHe CrEw AsSoCiAtEs… HaVeN’T hIsToRiCaLlY lIkEd ThEm AlL tHaT mUcH.”
“This isn’t going to make for a very good anniversary present, is it?”
Thymon sighed, causing a basket of food scraps to go up in flames. Returning to fetch another round of the Gruel for the fascinated Green Gorilla outside, Roz hastened to beat it out, then turned to face Jenny and Thymon.
“Give it time.” the waitress advised.
“hM?”
“The Cupids can be hard to like, at first, you have to admit that.” Roz continued. “But… I don’t know. It’s hard not to be cynical in this job, but I’ll admit, I’ve seen a lot of the Crew since they first showed up here, and… well, there might be something to them, after all. Don’t give up just yet.”
She departed with a platter, and Jenny nodded,
“Maybe she’s right. Let’s give it another go.”
They headed back out to the dining area.
******
“And theeen,” said the Frost King, “Tarsa leeet meee speeend Chriiistmas wiiith theeem. Oh, iiit waaas suuuch fuuun…”
Behind the camera, Jenny sighed.
“There was a time when Tarsa would never have allowed such a thing.” Nachtos replied, “But she’d changed. Only to be hidden away from us by blighted sack of burlap not a few years later! Oh, cruel fate!”
The tree-demon began to weep, his sobbing exactly matching the tune of Elvis Presley’s Blue Christmas.
The Drink-Mixer mimed flapping wings.
“Oh, riiight… baaack on tooopic.” the Frost King said.
Jenny perked up.
“Thooose Cuuupids weeere aaalways booothering Taaarsa.” he continued. Jenny slumped once again. “Poooking arooound her wooorkshooop, reeecruiting heeer fooor wiiild queeests. Baaarely giiiving her a moooment’s reeest. I’ve neeever knooown a wooorse bunch of meeedlers.”
Nachtos nodded.
“Truly,” he said, “Tarsa was like unto a saint.”
“Diiid you geeet thaaat?” the Frost King asked, looking at Jenny. “Thaaat was a goood liiine for your mooovie’s traaailer.”
******
“Oh!” said Bos’n Claptrap, “I’ve got it!”
Jenny and Thymon leaned in expectantly. The Fish cleared her throat with theatrical flourish.
“There was a time,” the Fish began, in hushed tones, “Many years ago – on a bright summer’s day – when the Faction of the Fooling Fish became embroiled in a fateful encounter with the Crew of the Copper-Colored Cupids. An encounter which would change the very course of the world!”
“WhAt HaPpEnEd?” Thymon asked. Jenny nodded,
“Well…” said the Fish, “We’d been sitting around – very bored – when we spotted a detachment of Cupids, and rushed out to meet them. There we stood – face to face. The tension was so thick you could pour it over someone’s head. A tumbleweed rolled past.”
The Fish paused for dramatic effect.
“And then…” she continued, “We unleashed the pies!”
******
“My fall, at that, was the fault of the Cupids.” said Sneer, pondering, “And I cannot help but think that it is entirely inappropriate for any beings of their stature, completely outside of the workings of Heaven and Hell, to bring about such a change in one of its number.”
“Yeah!” said Larrikin, who had joined Sneer at the table. “No fair makin’ people do things they don’t want to, even if they are a whole lot better this way.”
“One, as I recalled it, entrapped me with the visage of the Adversary.” Sneer continued. “While another had summoned the Riders of the Apocalypse. I was decieved – tricked into slaying one of those same Horsemen, believing it to be the Beast which was, at that time, my foe – and, which I am gratified to report, remains so even now; for as a demon I am bound by no customs, and the Devils are terribly unpleasant.”
“Yeah, and then they landed in my coal stash!”
“Indeed.” Sneer confirmed, with a grateful look at Larrikin. “Were it not for Larrikin, I would have been entirely lost when it came to the art of mischief and wickedness. Truly, he is a fine mentor.”
They frowned.
“But I can find no words of kindness, as you seem to hope, for the Crew of the Copper-Colored Cupids. Come, Larrikin – let us see what mischief might be afoot in this place.”
“Sure thing, pal!” said Larrikin, smiling proudly.
******
“Er, right.” said Tero Trollgarrson, sounding distinctly insincere. “The Cupids are bloody great. Definitely. They’re just real bundles o’ bleedin’ joy, ya know?”
He sat in silence for a moment, staring at the camera.
“‘course they are.” he eventually added, with decided half-heartedness.
There was another silence.
“Oh, um – is that all?” Jenny eventually asked. The Troll nodded.
“T’ be completely honest,” he said, “And nothin’ against ’em, other than the ‘draggin’ me into quests’ o’ it all – but I only came for the free drinks.”
“I kNeW wE sHoUlDn’t HaVe PrOmIsEd FrEe DrInKs.” Thymon said sulkily.
“As long as somebody’s paying for them.” said Roz, coming to deliver the Troll his bowl of muddy water. She cast a pointed look at Thymon. He continued to sulk.
******
“It had started out an ordinary day,” Alistair Neezley proclaimed, leaning in close to the camera, his words carrying a grandiose undertone. “Too ordinary. There I was, minding my business – hardly a care in the world – walking through an ordinary city street – when suddenly there came, from parts unknown, a great grinding of gears. I looked up into the sky – and what did I see but an enormous clockwork spaceship, twice the size of the moon, descending upon me!”
He assumed a fighting pose.
“‘Stop there, fiends!’ I cried, as bold as can be – for I knew exactly what this was! My defiance of the High Council of Kryton was finally, after all these years, due to be punished – if they could catch me! But they hadn’t accounted for one thing – the tin of anti-gravity spinach I always keep secreted away in my coat! Laughing, I downed the lot of it – and suddenly – “
“ThE hIgH cOuNcIl Of KrYtOn?”
“Oh, yes.” Neezley replied, resting an arm on the table. “Didn’t I ever tell you? I’m actually a Krytonian renegade, on the run from my people in a rackety old spaceship.”
“Oh.” said Thymon, rolling his eye. “WeLl, ThAt JuSt ExPlAiNs EvErYtHiNg, ThEn.”
******
“What is this place, anyway?” the Green Gorilla asked, pointedly ignoring Jenny’s prompt to think of one thing which he liked about the Crew.
“The Interdimensional Tavern!” Jenny replied, hoping that this might finally lead to a more productive avenue of conversation. “Well. Technically, Volensholagoz’s Tavern, Grill, and Schmporp-Rehorbbler.”
The Gorilla nodded, taking in his surroundings with great interest.
“I keep telling the Gang, we’ve got to get in on this ‘dimensional travel’ stuff. Comes with access to exclusive taverns and everything.”
“Oh, yeah, it’s pretty great.” Jenny said, nodding. “So – about the – “
“The Cupids?” the Gorilla snarled. “I’ve told you, haven’t I? We hate ’em, and we always will.”
“bUt- “
“They’re meddlers, that’s what they are. All of ’em. Sticking their noses where they don’t belong, bothering everybody. It wasn’t their business what we were doin’ at Vanityville, was it? It wasn’t their business to stop us going about ours for the next forty-some years.”
He crossed his arms, snorting.
“Well, try tellin’ that to them. Now we don’t get to go about our organisation’s goals without them showing up to stop us, even though we never really hurt anyone, just because they decided they didn’t like it.” he continued, growing louder and angrier with each word, “And they’re the ones with all the fancy spaceships and the brainwashing potions that really work and friends from a hundred galaxies over, and we get nothing!”
He pounded his fist on the table.
“Well, I’m sick of it! And I’m going home!”
At that moment, Roz arrived, carrying the platter of assorted food and drinks he had decided to sample.
“After this.” he corrected, taking the tray and ambling off.
******
“Oh, they are meddlers.” the Queen said, finishing off her spiceblood. “Of the worst kind, too. Traipsing into universes they’ve got no business with and doing just as they please with them. The kind of interlopers who give your Nyarlathoteps and your Crocodiles a run for their clemdings.”
She set down the goblet and leaned over the table, resting on her elbows.
“Not that I can’t respect that, in principle,” she continued, “But you’ve got to honour the rules of engagement – so to speak. There’s no class in it, otherwise. Yes, you can turn those who wrong you into wraiths or take out their bones – “
“Well – ” Wendy put in, only to be cut off.
“But it’s a give and take! They have to transgress against the iron-clad rules of the Market first. That’s just an example, obviously. But if you’ve got a dispute with a time-god, you trick him into a contract by the terms of his own domain. If you need to enter a forbidden realm, you use favours, or blackmail, or whatever your particular style happens to be. It’s a dance, a game of manipulating the system with its own rules. You don’t just bind an eldritch god unprovoked, or brute-force your way into a sealed dimension. It’s annoying, it’s inelegant – it’s no better than your common Wellsian.”
She shrugged.
“They can play that way if they like,” she finished, “but it won’t bring me around to liking them anytime soon.”
“Exact specifics of that speech aside,” Wendy said, with a fond glance at the Queen, “It does kind of seem like the Cupids were just made to overwrite everything they touch, yeah. It’s hard to see much good in that.”
******
“They bothered her on Halloween,” Nachtos was saying, “They bothered her on Christmas. They bothered her during the Rifts Crisis…”
The Drink-Mixer pointed to themself.
“Weeell, yeees, sooo diiid weee.” the Frost King allowed, “Buuut theeen, weee’re ooold frieeends…”
“They sent a spider to bother her on another Christmas…”
“Heee waaas pleaaasant enooough.”
“It’s no excuse.” Nachtos replied. “You shouldn’t go bothering people who have better things to be doing.”
“Unleeess – “
“Unless you’re us.” Nachtos finished, nodding. “Yes, yes. That goes without saying.”
Behind the camera, Jenny and Thymon exchanged a weary glance.
******
“Sorry, what am I here for, exactly?” asked Jenny Over-There, who had been in the middle of what she would have told anyone who asked was a very lovely night in, when an invitation – which she’d gotten in the mail, briefly glanced at, and then tossed in the ‘look at later’ pile that had never, in all of its years of existence, been looked at, later or otherwise – had started to glow before transporting her to some kind of pub.
If she had been pressed slightly further, she would have been forced to admit that it hadn’t been a very lovely night in at all. In fact, it had consisted entirely of lying on the sofa, scrolling through posts on the social media site which had formerly been known as Twimblr™ but whose name had recently been replaced by the dark sigil ᚸ̷̧̣̥͇͑́̕ by its new owner, billionaire occultist Marvin Haddo, in an attempt to summon the great lord ᚸ̷̧̣̥͇͑́̕thulu to the mortal plane, while simultaneously watching TV in the hopes that one of these two things might, in a never-before seen result, help her to fall asleep more than an hour before her next shift at the Multiversal Finders Service was due to start.
Still, that was no excuse.
“Oh,” said the other Jenny – Jenny Everywhere, the version she’d met on Nowhere Island, and whose wedding she’d attended not very long ago, “We’re just making a present for the Copper-Colored Cupids, and we were hoping you might – “
“Who?”
“The Copper-Colored Cupids?” Jenny-E repeated. “You know – the Cupids? The Crew of the Copper-“
“We’ve never met.”
Jenny-E bit her lip in slight consternation.
“Really? I thought – “
“Nope.” said Jenny-O. She cast her mind back. “I mean – I think I might have seen some at your wedding. But – “
“Oh.”
Jenny-E shared an awkward glance with Lord Thymon.
“SoRrY.” he said. “wE tHoUgHt YoU’D mEt. Um. I gUeSs YoU cAn Go, ThEn?”
“What, so you just pulled me out of bed for no reason?” Jenny-O asked, figuring that stretching the truth slightly as to her exact medium of relaxation was fair enough.
“Um – feel free to stay and have a drink?” Jenny-E suggested sheepishly.
Jenny-O considered this. The Man in Grey probably wouldn’t like it if she came in hungover. On the other hand… he probably owed her a day off anyway, didn’t he? …Maybe? Well, that was really all the convincing she needed when it came to the subject of not really feeling like going to work the next day.
“Alright.” she said with a shrug. It was better than lying on the sofa at three in the morning.
******
“Do YoU tHiNk SoPhIe Is AlRiGhT?” Thymon fussed, as he and Jenny looked through the footage taken thus far and wondered whether any edit could possibly salvage their video.
“I know she is.” Jenny replied.
******
Meanwhile: At the Everywhere-Thymon House
“This, little Sophie,” Laura Drake cooed, exhibiting an electronic device to the giggling baby, “Is what we call a staser gun. Now, if you promise not to tell mummy and daddy, I’ll let you test it out. Just put your finger there – “
There was a rap on the window, and Laura looked up. Pythagoras-858 was standing outside, a disapproving look on his face. Slowly, he shook his head.
“And this,” Laura continued, pouting slightly as she put down the gun and picked up a far less dangerous device, “Is what we call a teething rattle…”
******
The chair creaked, causing Jenny and Thymon to look up from the camcorder. There was an unfamiliar humanoid sitting before the table – a person with a feminine face, light blonde hair that was beginning to grey, and a stately blue robe wrapped around their body.
“Er, sorry,” Jenny said, puzzling, “I don’t usually forget people, and I’m really sorry if I did, but – “
“Oh!” said the person at the table, a look of sudden realisation flickering across their face. “Sorry.”
The face rippled, its nose stretching into a pangolin-like snout as skin and hair were covered over with keratinous scales. Vertolin smiled.
“I think this will be more familiar to the Cupids.” he said, a wistful look in his eyes. “Ah – do you know, I never thought much of this form, before. It was just something I’d seen on a visit to a scientific zoo in the capital, when I was very young.”
There was sadness in his smile, now.
“But then – I happened to assume this shape when I first met the Cupids on Subcinctus, and in the heat of the moment, it was the only way I could think to show them who I was when we reunited in the Palatium all those years later. And by chance, I was still wearing it after the Imperium fell, when I rallied the others to build a new Subcinctus from the ashes. I suppose it became a symbol of hope from the old world.”
He flexed his fingers.
“Still – it can be nice to switch things up, on occasion.”
“Oh, feel free!” Jenny said, nodding. “I think Thyme and I both know that a change of bodies every now and again can do wonders for a person.”
“Ah, this’ll be best for the video, for old times’ sake.” Vertolin replied. “Speaking of which, I’ve been talking about myself long enough. Now, let me see…”
Jenny pointed the camera as Vertolin pondered.
“Well,” he began, “I’ve been around the multiversal scene long enough to know that most people regard the Cupids as uninvited meddlers, poking around where they have no business being. And – they’re right.”
Thymon’s eye narrowed.
“From what I’ve seen, the Cupids can’t resist intruding into every corner of the multiverse, no matter how unlikely.” Vertolin continued. “Turning up in the middle of a war and helping to rout the invaders just because they happen to be around. Ending a total multiversal collapse because, against all odds, they’ve somehow found themselves at the focal point of the crisis at the most pivotal moment. Freeing the Toymaker from an icy tomb because they’ve accidentally stumbled into becoming acquaintances with one of the most powerful beings in the omniverse.”
Vertolin paused, thinking, then went on.
“The way I see it, something in the Cupids’ fundamental essence makes them completely unable to resist journeying endlessly forth into the furthest reaches of existence, intruding into every disparate dimension in the multiverse, and mucking about with anything and everything they come across.” he finished. “And maybe this isn’t what they were made to do with that particular tendency, but every Cupid I’ve met so far has nonetheless taken that as an unprompted invitation to leave everything a little bit better than it was when they found it. And for that, I can only thank them wholeheartedly.”
Jenny smiled.
“Thank you very much, Vertolin.”
“It was my pleasure,” he replied, standing. “And it was very nice seeing you again, Jenny.”
Reshaping into what Jenny recognised as an Arisrian of Rawl, Vertolin glided lightly away on four wings. Or maybe five.
******
“Okay!” said the Rainbow Quack, pounding her fists on the table in an alternating rhythm. “Lay it on me! Pop the question! ‘How have the Crew of the Copper-Colored Cupids – ‘”
“We KnOw ThE qUeStIoN.” Thymon grumbled, his eye narrowing at the sight of the person who had committed harmless but annoying medical malpractice on his wife only a short while ago. “i DoN’T rEmEmBeR iNvItInG yOu.”
The Quack flinched.
“Okay, well, technically, you didn’t.” she explained, leaning as far away from Thymon as possible while trying to maintain a casual tone. “But – “
She lunged forward suddenly, grasping one of Thymon’s tendrils.
“Please let me be in this video! It’s such a momentous event!”
She drew herself up importantly.
“It would fix me permanently, in the minds of all future scholars, as A Member Of The Cupids’ Recurring Cast!”
Jenny and Thymon exchanged a glance.
“Well,” said Jenny, “Um – do you, actually, have an answer to the question?”
The Quack slumped in her seat.
“Well, um – no, not as such – but – !”
For all that he enjoyed his usual form, Thymon did often find himself missing one feature of his humanoid body more often than any other: the ability to pinch frustratedly at the bridge of one’s nose. Having no means of doing so at the present moment, he elected instead to sigh.
“NeXt!”
******
Thymon had gone to recharge the camcorder, and Larrikin was off looking for eggs to throw – leaving Jenny and Sneer sitting at the table by themselves.
“So,” Jenny said, after many long seconds of silence. “Hey! We’re technically… neighbors, now? Or… housemates? Dimensionmates? Right? We should get to know each other properly.”
“No, thank you, prattling mortal.” Sneer replied, continuing to sit in silence.
“Aw, come on.” Jenny said. “I’ll bet we have a lot in common, when you get down to it.”
Finding that this had elicited no response, she went on.
“For example… some of my incarnations are demons, too! I’m pretty close with one of them – I could introduce the two of you some time.”
Sneer looked away.
“Demons, perhaps.” they replied. “But not true cogwork of the divine plan. Creatures of the worlds without.”
Jenny scratched at her head, thinking.
“Well…” she continued, “I think I remember Thyme saying that Death attacked you, once, during the Horsemen’s invasion. Well, tell me about it! That guy hardly leaves me alone ever since one of me beat him in a chess match years ago. I think it frustrates him that he can’t ever, truly take me. Same with you, really!”
“I do not care to speak of it.”
Jenny’s shoulders slumped slightly. Wondering how the camera was coming, she stifled a yawn – having a baby made it hard enough to get a full night’s sleep even without Celebration-665 directing a marching band past their house in the early hours of the morning in preparation for an anniversary concert.
“I’m sure the concert’ll be lovely, but – I wish he’d bump the practice up a few hours.” she mumbled to herself, rubbing her eyes.
“Oh, I agree most wholeheartedly.” Sneer replied, turning back around. “For all that the cacaphonous Crewmen practice, their playing never grows any less insufferable. Although it is no longer in my nature to speak well of Heaven – I should think that it is entirely impossible to appreciate the chaotic trumpeting of an amateur when one has heard the celestial choir sounding their ethereal buisines, or to find joy in the tin-tainted voices of the Copper-Colored Cupids after witnessing the morning stars singing together.”
Jenny leaned forward.
“Oh, on that topic,” she said, “What is the deal with all of the warehouses? Every day I go outside, and boom! Another warehouse, and Philatel standing next to it yelling at that Foreman guy!”
“Indeed,” said Sneer, looking pleased to hear the complaint voiced by another, “I presume that there is some – some fault within the beings of many of these Cupids which surround us, such that they would surely be considered among the Fallen if those of the Crew had any such concept. The obsession of that irritating foreman knows no bounds, and the endless sounds of hacksaws and dread machinery does grate so on ears divine and infernal alike.”
Sneer leaned in.
“And I should put to you, as well, this question, Shifter of Many Planes,” they said, “In all of your travels, have you ever encountered such a bothersome element as that one which calls himself Conspiracy-1263? Not joyful enough in his mischief as to demand respect from a demon such as myself, or possessing enough instinct for fun as to suit my dear Larrikin – he spins the falsest notions I ever have been audience to, and insists upon some great cover-up concealing these so-called truths from the minds of all who surround him!”
“Oh, yeah, I know what you mean.” Jenny replied, nodding. “Someone has got to tell him that Sophie isn’t a “Mark II Everywhere”, the first in a new line of beings that’ll be replacing the Clockwork Cherubs.”
She thought for a moment.
“Oh, and Sneer – ” she eventually said, “What in the world is ‘Copper-Colored Clag’?”
******
“Sorry,” said Jenny, as Thymon aimed the camera once more. “Who are you?”
“Why, Doctor Curiosss, of courssse!” the snake-headed man replied, doffing his top hat with a theatrical flourish. “Here to partisssipate in your sssinematographic excersssise! I’m sssurprissed you managed to ssstart without me!”
“Er,” Jenny said awkwardly, “I’m not sure the Crew have ever mentioned you.”
Curious looked taken aback.
“What? I, Doctor Curiosss, one of the Crewsss’ closssessst bosssum chumsss… never mentioned!? Thisss sssurely cannot be!”
Jenny glanced at the list she and Thymon had compiled.
“Well – ” she said, “Um – I don’t think they’ve ever – “
“Fine!” said Curious, crossing his arms. “I ssseee where I’m not wanted!”
He turned away, hissing angrily – then paused and looked back, uncertain.
“…It’sss here, right? Jussst to be clear.”
******
Pacing by the door, Frederick sighed. He’d dared to hope that today might be slightly less hectic than usual, a chance for a small break – but Jenny’s guests were just as demanding as the Tavern’s usual patrons, and, if anything, even more boisterous.
“Hey!” barked the Green Gorilla from across the room. “Bring me another drink, furball!”
Sighing, the waiter reluctantly took his eyes off of the Fooling Fish who had, for the past several minutes, been trying to sneak a bucket of water onto the ledge above the kitchen door in hopes of dousing the next person to walk through it. As he made his way towards the bar, he suddenly realised that he’d mislaid his serving platter at some point in the recent bustle of activity. Groaning, he slapped a tentacle against his face in dismay.
There was a polite cough from somewhere near the entrance.
Frederick turned, and beheld a tall, thin man in a brown jacket and tie. Frowning a ponderous frown, the man took a step closer, letting his eyes fall across the waiter before him.
“I guess that you are a waiter,” the man observed, “For, though I confess myself entirely unfamiliar with the striding patterns of one of your kind – nor do I know of any earthly creature of the dry land which, from one instant to the next, varyingly supports itself upon any combination of available tentacles – I nonetheless note from the particularities of your gait that you are accustomed to favoring the rightmost tendrils upon which you walk, leaning instead to the left as if to account for the presence of a heavy object supported on your right.”
“Sorry – ” Frederick began, intending to ask the man who he was, only to be cut off at once.
“Before I had made my presence known to you, there was a look of great consternation upon your features, one which had come upon you suddenly as you trekked to the bar.” the man continued. “It was accompanied, I could not help but note, by a slight involuntary flexing of the rightmost tentacle – the kind of rapid movement most often exhibited when one expects to meet with difficulty in lifting an unfamiliar object, only to find it lighter than one had initially thought likely.”
“Well – ” Frederick tried, frowning. The man took a few cautious steps, angling his gaze towards the tavern’s beloved octopus statue.
“And there, I think, we find our answer to this little mystery.” he finished. “There appears to be a serving tray, of the kind used in all the pubs of London and which surely has utility even here among the depths of the unknown – resting there, upon the cephalapod’s outstretched appendage.”
Frederick glanced over, noting with an inward sigh that Larrikin and Sneer had just finished dressing the statue in the spare uniform which he kept in the kitchen, his platter providing a finishing touch.
“Er – thanks.” he said, lamely.
“Mr Holmes!” came Jenny’s cheerful voice, as she bounded over with a cheeky smile. “Stop showing off.”
Holmes coughed, adjusting his tie.
“Yes, well.” he said, following Jenny back to the table. “It is gratifying to find my deductive skills as useful even here as in England.”
He paused, looking around once more.
“Although in truth, I would not have expected a tavern of the howling dark to present such a familiar guise.”
“Oh, they will do that.” Jenny replied, nodding. “I’ll have to take you to Hilbert’s sometime. Although – even with infinite options, I doubt they can make a breakfast as good as Mrs Hudson’s.”
******
“Dooo yooou remeeember wheeen yooou fiiirst meeet Taaarsa?” the Frost King asked. Nachtos nodded.
“Oh, yes.” he replied, beginning to forcibly ripple-transition the video into a flashback before Jenny or Thymon could stop him. “I was only a tiny conceptsapling – setting off on my own from the nocturnal forest for the very first time…”
Nachtos’s Flashback
The sky stretched out before him and his roots were in the sky, burrowing out through the luminiferous aether to dip deeply into the soft and churning nebulae which served as the star-speckled substrate upon which all his clonal colony subsisted. The great network of roots held all the night together, and all of the planets and comets and the stars within the cosmos sparkled so as they blinked again and again from existence, their lives so short when held against the endless infinite now of the colony, always here in the gestalt no matter how its ramets might shift.
He knew he should regard them as nothing but a twinkle in the abyss, but the young night-lord wished, somewhere very deep in his being, that they would stay still a moment so that he might live alongside them instead of watch them pass – that he might hold them or touch them or play upon them, as he so pleased. But they ended so quickly, and he scarcely had time to grow fond of the beauty of any one star before it was gone forever, beyond where he could reach it.
There was a solution, he knew this. When the time was right, when the ramet was ready, he would open the great stardust eye atop his crown – forged from the shimmering substance of the heavens – and begin to live within his own perception instead of that of the colony. The day drew nearer – already the minds of the others had grown fainter, and the young lord had to concentrate to bring them into focus – but he was beginning to grow restless, all the same. He desperately wished that the time would come faster, while there was still a chance to peer at the last remnants of some of his favorite superclusters.
“Fall-of-the-night,” came the voice of a sibling-self – his favourite, ever since they had differentiated – their words the color of the nebulae and the stars. “Your thoughts grow unstill. Your heart goes wanting.”
“Yes, beauty-of-the-night,” he said back, his words the shifting reds of dusk and the eerie greens of a twilight aurora. “I long to percieve.”
“You must be patient.” his sibling replied. “The day will come.”
“I long to be among the stars.” he continued. “And to see them each in their entirety.”
His sibling seemed to tut.
“The stars are only patterns woven in the night. They are to be loved from afar, and as a part of the great patchwork. And that is my duty, not yours.”
“I know.” fall-of-the-night said, with a small sigh. “And I will do my duty. I will end all that which I touch, so that the beauty of the night may follow.”
“And the music-of-the-night and the stillness-of-the-night and the silence-of-the-night and the secrets-of-the-night and the dead-of-the-night and the end-of-the-night.” beauty-of-the-night finished. “Yes, that is how it must be.”
The young night-lord watched the ever-shifting stars, wondering as he often did whether there were other beings there, other minds apart from the colony.
“Yes,” said secrets-of-the-night, her voice a color glimpsed only in the depths of the celestial void by those with heads far too full of questions to sleep. “Yes, there are ever so many.”
“And could I speak to them?” asked fall-of-the-night. “Could I know them, as I know you?”
“Perhaps. Perhaps not.” said secrets-of-the-night.
“And do they end along with the stars?” asked fall-of-the-night.
“Some do.”
Fall-of-the-night pondered this.
“Then,” he wondered, “Could they be saved?”
“Not by you.” said secrets-of-the-night. “Not by any of us. Such a thing would be irrelevant to us in its entirety.”
“I know that I must bring about many ends when it is time for night to fall, and I will do it gladly.” said the young night-lord, “But could those many worlds for which it is not yet time for nightfall not be saved by ones such as us, who can see much more than they must?”
“No.” said beauty-of-the-night and secrets-of-the-night.
Fall-of-the-night watched the stars, and sighed, and wondered what it would be like to visit them, and befriend other minds, and have fun among the cosmos.
He had seen stars and planets from up close and marvelled at their beauty, played among the joys of worlds and ended others, traversed the planes of the multiverse – but fall-of-the-night had yet to make a friend.
He longed to, of course. But things like he was were hard to come by, and though it had been ages since he’d started to percieve apart from the colony, it could be hard to befriend things who couldn’t relate in any way to a state of being like that.
One day, as he jaunted through the realms, he found himself in a strange workshop. It seemed perfectly normal in most respects, and yet – he couldn’t sense an end to it, spatially or chronologically. The night-lord began to hope.
“Hello?” he called on several channels – atmospheric vibrations and psychic pathways and the subclorthal layer – casting his eye around the strange room as he did. “Is there anyone here?”
There was silence for a moment.
Then an enormous eye opened, seeming to impose itself over everything else in the workshop. Fall-of-the-night drew back – there was something deep and strange about it.
“WELL, WELL, WELL!” shouted a frenzied voice, as the eye widened. “WHAT HAVE WE HERE?”
The eye retracted into itself, bringing with it the rest of a seemingly-humanoid being which shrunk down to fall-of-the-night’s size and dropped to the floor before him.
“Looks like a customer!” she exclaimed, grinning a worryingly large grin. There was a flash, and she was suddenly behind him. She poked at one of his tendrils. “Or is it a new toy?”
“H – hello.” fall-of-the-night greeted, nervous. This was a being of power, he could tell that much. “Who are you?”
“They call me Madame Tarsa!” she exclaimed, spreading her hands apart above her head to reveal a hovering sign reading the same in neon lights. “And who might you be?”
“I… er…” the night-lord said, hesitating. He suddenly worried that ‘fall-of-the-night’ would entirely fail to impress this strange woman. Drawing himself up, he proclaimed haltingly: “I am, er… Lord… Nacht!”
No, no, that was far too obvious.
“…os.” he added, belatedly. “Lord Nachtos!”
Yes, that would do it, he was certain. He faced Madame Tarsa.
“Want to be friends?”
Madame Tarsa stared at him for a moment, her expression undreadable. Then she laughed.
“Friends?” she asked, beginning to rise into the air. “You want to be friends, Christmas-tree?”
“Er…” said fall-of-the-night, fidgeting his tendrils nervously. “I take it that friendships… aren’t something you do?”
Madame Tarsa laughed again, although there was no mirth in her eyes. With a sudden bang, she expanded outward once more, her eye again filling the space before him.
“You know, I’ve been pretty bored lately!” she said. “It’d be nice to play a little game. Let’s see… parcheesi? Duck-duck-goose? The labyrinth?”
Fall-of-the-night gulped.
“Nah.” Madame Tarsa said, shrinking back to size before snapping her fingers. A golf club appeared in her hands and a tam o’ shanter replaced the jester’s cap which she wore upon her head. “Golf.”
She swung.
Fall-of-the-night found himself in a far off universe, blinking his eye. Now there, he thought, star-struck, was the kind of person who could understand him. Who could certainly help him stop things from ending when they didn’t need to, and who probably knew a good lot of fun things to do besides.
He resolved to befriend her, whatever it took.
“Claaasic Taaarsa!” the Frost King said fondly.
Jenny glanced at Thymon.
“Tarsa… wasn’t like that when I was married to her.” she said. “And she certainly isn’t like that now. I mean – she’s always been pretty… eccentric, no doubt about that, but not in quite such a…”
“‘MaLeVoLeNt GoD oF cHaOs’ SoRt Of WaY?” Thymon suggested.
“Yeah. Hm. I wonder…”
“WhAt?”
“Well – there was one person who I didn’t ask to come today.” Jenny replied. “I figured he’d have other things on his mind. But…”
She fidgeted guiltily.
“I mean… he might enjoy a break. Right?”
Thymon cast a woeful glance at the camcorder.
“AnYtHiNg To SaLvAgE tHiS.”
******
“The golden light of a setting sun mingled with the glow of the roaring campfire, illuminating the faces of my companions-by-chance. The night grew cold quickly on Tetrayon-Five.” said Alistair Neezley, looking grandly into the middle distance. “The spinach was wearing off, but the fallen form of the great cactus-spider beside me lingered on – a reminder of what I had achieved for my newfound friends. ‘Neezley!’ said the youngest of the small family, her jack-o-lantern head glowing, “You’ve saved us! No longer will that dreadful beast force us to serve in the carpet mines!’ ‘It was nothing!’ I said, very heroically as you can imagine, ‘Just another day in the life of Alistair Neezley! Why, it hardly holds a candle to the time I boxed with the blathering blancmage of Birmingham!’ ‘Gee, Mr Neezley, you know such stories!’ said the little tyke, as I tussled her leafy hair.”
Jenny began to say something, but was quickly interrupted.
“‘Are you sure you won’t stay with us, Mr Neezley?’ asked another, ‘We could certainly use your wonderful tales to cheer us up after a long day trekking the world in search of our ancestral patch.’ ‘Yes, please stay!’ said the others, ‘We love your stories so!’ – but I was forced to decline! ‘No!’ I said, “I cannot! For the Krythonians are hot on my trail, and if I stayed, I would only bring them down upon your firm orange heads!’ At that moment – there was a sound from the west! I looked back – and saw a Krython Battle Cruiser coming through the gap in the valley, lasers blazing! ‘Run, Neezley!’ said the eldest of the pumpkin-people, ‘We’ll hold them off as long as we can!’ ‘No!’ I shouted, standing and setting my jaw, ‘I’ll fight with you to the end!’ The ship was still coming, cannons firing – “
Neezley paused.
“Wait! Before I tell you this next bit, I’ll have to refresh you on my adventure with the opossum detectives! You see – “
******
Sitting before the camera, Joybuzzer fidgeted nervously.
“I’m… really sorry,” Jenny said, looking apologetic, “I know you must have other things on your mind, and please, feel free to leave now if you’d like. But I just thought I’d ask – “
“I’m glad you did.” Joybuzzer replied, “It’s nice to take a little break. And – I would like to help with the present. So would my mum, if she…”
He trailed off. Reaching over, Jenny pulled him into a hug, causing him to squeak in the manner of a rubber duck.
“Well, anyway,” he said, after a moment, sniffing slightly as he sat back down, “Let’s see. Well, I suppose it’s obvious how the Cupids changed my life, isn’t it? Pythagoras rescued me from… from my father, and reunited me with mum, and convinced her to give having a family another go. I can’t thank him enough for that.”
Jenny nodded.
“But – you probably wanted to ask me how my mum felt about them, too, didn’t you?” he asked. “That’s the sort of thing people tend to want, when they contact me, ever since Christmas.”
“Well – “
“It’s alright. I don’t mind telling you.” Joybuzzer continued.
He tapped the side of his red rubber nose with an oversized glove, thinking.
“If you’d asked her, I think she’d have said that the Cupids are pests.” he said, “But – she mentioned them a lot. She’d wonder what they’d think of the new model of Plush Thymon, and sometimes when she was trying to draw up her schedules she’d think about whether they were planning to drop by and bother her anytime soon because she’d need to account for that, or sometimes when we were making toys she’d say that one of them would be a good option to set aside for the next time she needed to send them a thank-you gift whenever they ‘improbably stumbled into helping her with another cosmic crisis again’.”
Joybuzzer bit his lip.
“I think… she did like them. Maybe – maybe more like…”
“Like the way you like a funny squirrel who keeps coming back to your garden?” Jenny suggested.
“Something like that.” Joybuzzer agreed. “Although, um, we don’t have a garden. Well, we have a plastic garden in the Toybox, but… er, anyway. Mum didn’t – doesn’t like to talk about it very much, but – I think she was lonely for a while. That’s what they say in the Toybox, anyway. She used to have a daughter, and – “
“And a wife?”
Joybuzzer nodded.
“But then she didn’t, anymore. And – I think she stayed in the Workshop for a really, really long time, all by herself, and let the marionettes run everything on the outside. And I think, um, maybe it wasn’t very good for her. But the Cupids showing up, and bringing all of their friends with them – and convincing her to work with Uncle Frost and Uncle Nachtos and AuUncLing □□□□□ for the first time in a while – and then bringing me back to her… I think that helped.”
Joybuzzer shifted in his seat, looking apprehensive in the way of children who understand a bit more than might be expected of them but are unsure about saying as much. Jenny, recognising this, nodded encouragingly.
“I think the Cupids are… kind of strange.” he said. “They all seem obsessed with something, like throwing parties, or making hats. But I think… almost all of them really believe that whatever they’re doing is the best thing they possibly could be doing, that it’s something important and wonderful for everyone in existence. And I think – being completely dedicated to doing what you think is the best thing all the time, even if you’re wrong about it, or just being silly, still leads to more good things than bad things, in the end. I think that’s how it is with the Cupids. So – maybe the reason they kept coming to bother mum was just because they wanted to write reports on her, or because they wanted to design new coats for her, or because they wanted to throw her a party for ‘World Puppetry Day’ – but… if that’s what they think is the best thing to do in the world, then it’s still really nice of them.”
Joybuzzer thought for a moment.
“Besides – I know what’s it like to be made for a specific purpose, maybe not a good one.”
He held up a hand, letting a spark of electricity course through it.
“And to still have… pieces of that in you, that might always be there. But – I don’t want to judge them based just on that.”
Joybuzzer nodded.
“And that’s all. Thank you for inviting me, Ms Jenny.”
Jenny smiled.
******
“Hi, mum, hi, dad! How’s it coming?”
Jenny and Thymon looked up from the camera. Their daughter was sitting in the chair – her teenage self, no doubt popping in from the future for another visit. She grinned, and her parents pulled her into a hug.
“Well – ” Jenny eventually replied, letting go. “We’re… not sure yet.”
“BuT wE’Re TrYiNg.” Thymon added, as a strand of her hair reached out to hold one of his tendrils.
“Aw, don’t worry, it’ll turn out great.” Sophie said. “Um – and please take that as a heartfelt compliment and not a temporally-unchained fact. Those can get messy when you add video evidence into the mix.”
“Gotcha,” Jenny replied, winking.
“You and Kim and Eric from a few worlds over send their best wishes for all this, by the way. Lady Aesc and that lot, too.” Sophie added. “Well – I think they did. Or… oh, they will, anyway.”
Jenny and Thymon nodded with understanding – intimately aware of the temporal complexities involved.
“Well – now that you’re here, do you want to be in the video?” Jenny asked. “We could use some more people. The old rifts expert was busy and just sent a nice card, the Order of the Automata were dealing with another rogue antivirus, and there just wasn’t time to pick up members of all of the Prime Earth secret societies…”
“You should have had me help!” Sophie joked. “Yeah, of course I’d love to be in it. But, um – I’ll have to keep it light, okay? Like I said, better not to be too specific when there’s footage.”
Jenny nodded, and Thymon started the camera.
“I can’t say too much,” Sophie began, “Spoilers and all that. But – you should know that the Crew of the Copper-Colored Cupids holds a very dear place in my heart. And – in matters of the current timeline, I’d like to thank them for everything they’ve done for mum and dad, and for little me. Happy anniversary, guys!”
******
Sneer glanced back, looking at Larrikin, who was standing on the other side of the Tavern cheering as the Queen and the Green Gorilla sparred with each other over some percieved slight. They smiled, then looked back at the camera.
“I do not like the aberrant Crew of the Copper-Colored Cupids.” they said. “And I never will. They are an odious, irritating organisation, too meddlesome for their own good, neither holy enough to be correct in their hilarious assertion that their members qualify as some form of cherub, nor wicked enough to suit the Devils of Hell, nor changeable enough in their immortality to deserve the importance allotted to mortal men.”
They turned up their proverbial nose.
“Though not, I would venture in any case, correctly.”
Sneer looked back at Larrikin once more.
“But,” they continued, “I do like Larrikin, who is as fine a companion as any I have known. And so I am forced to concede that, horrendous though they may be – there does exist that which is worthwhile among the ranks of the Copper-Colored Cupids. While the whole may be detestable, there is potential within the individual units thereof to make choices such that – well – that good should arise within them, though the word seems unfitting for my role and for the nature of him of whom I speak. Proving, I suppose, that as lowly and as wretched as they may seem – they are nonetheless not totally untouched by any shred of value.”
Sneer stood.
“Does that, then, conclude this interrogation?”
Jenny and Thymon nodded.
“Good. Then I am off to rejoin Larrikin. And I shall see the pair of you early tomorrow morn, when, I am informed by that same Cupid, we pair shall be mounting an attack upon your very home, sounding its heralding-bell and departing with haste before any within can ascertain the identity of the tresspassers.”
“Sounds like fun!” Jenny replied. “Just… wait until noon, alright? Or you might wake Sophie.”
******
“To say that the Copper-Colored Cupids have exerted a great deal of influence upon my life would be, perhaps, inaccurate to some degree.” said Sherlock Holmes, who had – contra Jenny’s worries that he might not understand what her modern camcorder was – gotten the idea fairly quickly. “The Crew in its entirety is an entity with which I have had, to this date, only brief and limited contact. But do not allow this to discourage you – I feel, nonetheless, that the question is one which it is well within my remit to answer.”
He paused, thinking, then continued.
“Many persons of esteem within my own world have thought of me as one who possesses an understanding of all that there is to understand, in matters social and scientific.” he said. “Perhaps I, too, once thought of myself in that way. It was not until Christmas of 1895 that my perceptions, on this point, were not only challenged – but thoroughly refuted. Yes, I possess an understanding of much of what there is to know – within one world among many, upon one planet among many, within one era of its history, within one country upon the face of its surface, within a single layer of that country’s own culture. In spite of all of the powers of observation for which I am – perhaps rightly! – famed – I had never previously reflected upon that very point. It was Pythagoras, I think, who not only broadened my horizons in this respect – but removed them entirely, such that I now realise the extent of that which I do not understand in the slightest.”
Holmes smoothed his tie.
“I am certain that, thanks to Pythagoras’s influence, I am now much improved in all respects – as a scholar, as a detective, and as a man. For, in recognising that I remain, still, unaware of so much – I find myself even more readily able to accept the new and the unknown than I have ever been. And for that, I must thank him. Truly, these Cupids – hailing originally from Earth, yet acquainted now with all manner of places strange and wonderful – have greatly broadened their own perspective, and do much to facilitate the same in any person they encounter – taking them out of their own small world and making them, in the end, a citizen of the vast multiverse.”
******
“Ach, sure.” said Horatio Topper, sipping his jasmine-flavoured tea. “I’ve met ’em a few times. Wouldnae say we were close, exactly, but…”
He shrugged.
“Well, they do make the endless existential despair of floating endlessly through the infinite worlds that are not your home slightly less lonely, when ye happen tae run into them.”
The ghost took another sip of his tea, then raised an eyebrow at Jenny.
“Now, Jenny, lass – I don’t suppose ye’ve improved yer accuracy when it comes tae aiming me towards my haunt since the last time we met, have ye?”
Jenny looked guilty.
“‘fraid not, Mr Topper.”
“Aye. Though not.” he muttered. “‘least the tea’s nice, ah suppose.”
******
“Look, I’m not saying that individual Cupids haven’t helped people, or done nice things, or anything like that. They have, obviously.” Wendy said. “I told you I like Pythe. And Juliet and Arganthone weren’t so bad, from what I saw of them, or even those three from a little while ago – the ones who stole the Queen’s net. They were fine, I guess.”
She sighed.
“And, yeah, it would be easy to get caught up in that and lose sight of the rest of it, but – and it’s not that I want to start some, some vendetta against the Copper Cupids or anything, it’s just – I don’t really want to overlook the whole awful concept of the Crew just because we’ve known each other for a while.”
******
“This just won’t do!”
The two figures standing in the Tavern’s doorway – a hunched figure with a heavy cloak and a false beard that covered most of their camelid face, and a smaller person wrapped in a truly impressive number of raincoats such that no feature other than their eyes was revealed – were staring daggers at Frederick, who was blocking them from coming any further inside.
“Yeah. Step aside.” said the smaller figure. “Ya gotta let us in, fuzzface. We’re old friends of the Cupids.”
Frederick shrugged.
“Sorry,” he said, “You’re on the list.”
“Well… good!” said the taller figure. “Let us in, then!”
“No, no. You don’t understand. You’re on the forbidden list.”
The waiter held up a notebook and began scanning the page.
“Sebastian Steer, the Imperial Imperator, the New Wellsian Empire, the Crocodiles, the Grym Sniffler, anyone with golden eyes… yep, there you are. Darius and Blackheart.”
“What, at the bottom?” the taller figure snarled. The smaller figure elbowed him. “Er, I mean – I don’t see what relevance that holds to us, the Cupids’ esteemed friends… Dorium and, er… Blaggard.”
Frederick turned the book around, revealing a sketch of Darius and Blackheart, with a collection of various possible disguises drawn onto foldable bits of paper like a dress-up doll.
The two figures were silent for a moment. Then they pulled off their coats.
“Yes!” said Darius, a maniacal look in his eye. “It is we, Darius and Blackheart, here to ruin this gathering! Fear us!”
The guests turned as one.
“Uh oh.” muttered Blackheart. “I told ya this was a bad plan, camel-man.”
“Shades of the gall-blasted mountain.” moaned Darius, as the two were abruptly bundled into a burlap sack and placed back into their waiting Smog Ship by a vengeful Green Gorilla.
******
“Lord Tergusa of Kryon stared down at me, fire in all three of his eyes. But it could scarcely match the fire in mine as I took the stand!”
Alistair Neezley climbed atop his chair.
“‘You asked me to justify my actions!’, I said. ‘I am doing so! You, like so many, are content to only experience the wild glory of the world outside – whereas I! I, brave adventurer that I am, venture to tell about my experiences, so that my tales might inspire all who hear them! ‘No’, shouted Lord Tergusa, his eyes going red! ‘It is against our all-important law of non-narration for a Kryon such as yourself to weave such excellent tales of your exciting deeds!’ ‘Blast it all!’ I shouted back, distressed! ‘That puts a damper on my plan to recount to you how my brilliant storytelling has been a force for good in this fallen world! What a waste of a nice slideshow!'”
Thymon made a noise that was something like the clearing of a throat.
“I’m just getting to the good bit!” Neezley said, before continuing. “Er – where was I? ‘All these years travelling the multiverse, telling stories – dramas, situations, story arcs! I should have stayed home! Ten million years of absolute flowers – that’s what it takes to be really corrupt!”
“WhAt?”
“The Kryons have lovely botanical gardens.” Neezley helpfully explained.
******
As more and more guests arrived, the atmosphere of a party had begun to take hold in the Tavern – which was one of the reasons, though not the only one, that Jenny had wanted all but one of the tables cleared. The extremely varied group were beginning to mingle and chat, perhaps a bit awkwardly – but with ever-increasing good humor.
And Smith had been absolutely right: there were a lot of interesting people here, and Briar – though a bit shy – was extremely interested in getting to know all about them.
At the moment, Smith was standing off in the corner, frowning as he tried to work out what to say on a stack of notecards which he’d brought along. Briar walked hesitantly through the crowd, taking in her fellow invitees.
“Fascinating…” Sherlock Holmes was saying to the Green Gorilla, “You really mean to tell me, then, that the world from which you hail is one in which the fur of primates is, in its natural state, predominantly green?”
“No,” the Green Gorilla replied, poking Holmes roughly in the chest with a menacing frown. “I’m saying the world you’re from is.”
“So you’re pretty… legally-distinct, huh?” Jenny-O was saying to Horatio Topper, a look of mild apathy on her under-described face.
“That means nothin’ tae me, lass.” Topper replied, frowning. He sighed. “Och – I just wish I could find someone, out o’ all these varied beasties of the depths, who could tell me the whereabouts o’ me beloved home.”
“Oh,” said Jenny-O automatically, “It’s – “
There was a grey flash, and she was suddenly gone from the Tavern – called back to work, it would seem. Topper huffed, then floated away.
“Absolutely amazing,” Vertolin was saying to the Drink-Mixer, who was conveying the way in which their own, entirely unique form of Shape-Shifting worked. “I’m terribly curious what might happen if I were to try to assume your form, but – I think I’d better resist, for safety’s sake. I confess I haven’t entirely shaken the paranoia which we thought we were forced to cultivate in the Imperium, silly though it may be.”
“Pitiful tricks,” Sneer was saying, looking on. The two glanced over at them, and they shrugged. “Whether it be matter or biodata, the both of you must still reshape if you are to change. I am but a pattern imposed upon the fabric of reality, and am limited by nothing in form-shifting endeavours. Truly, in this matter, it must be said that I have the pair of you thoroughly beat.”
Standing in the middle of it all, Briar took a breath. This was all very overwhelming, but also so very fascinating. She wondered whether –
There was a jolt, and Briar looked back to see that she’d accidentally bumped into someone.
“Excuse me!” said the Queen of the Black Market, in a tone that suggested that she very much did not, in fact, think that it was she whose actions needed to be excused.
“Oh!” Briar exclaimed, apologetic. “I’m – I’m very sorry. I didn’t – “
“Yes, yes,” the Queen said with a wave of her hand as she turned away, having already lost interest. “Plead and grovel, etcetera. Don’t do it again.”
She began to stride away.
“Wait!”
Briar ran after the Queen, stopping beside her.
“Your armour!” she said, curious. “Are those real bones? Is it some sort of… cultural thing? Or – “
“Urgh.” said the Queen. “Why must you unconnected naïfs be so extremely nosy? I mean, really – “
She paused, squinting at Briar’s features, then looked over her shoulder.
“Hey, Wendy!” she called. “Is this thing one of your things?”
Another person approached – another human. Her eyes widened slightly at the sight of Briar.
“Oh, hey!” Wendy said, “I’m Wendy. Are you, like, an actual human? From Earth? God, it’s been a while since I’ve met any normal people my own age.”
Briar nodded.
“Well, yes!… um… yes.” Briar replied, her mind briefly flashing to the part of her that might have been worryingly less so. Wendy smiled, and Briar quickly added, “Although I’ve never been there, myself. Earth, I mean. I think it ended long before I could have had the chance. Which is quite a shame, I would have liked to.”
Wendy’s smiled dimmed slightly, although she didn’t drop it.
“Um, anyway – hello!” Briar continued, holding out her hand for Wendy to shake. “I’m Briar. I like your dress!”
“Aw, thanks!” Wendy replied, shaking Briar’s hand as she looked between their two gothic black gowns. “Twins, I guess! Looks like we’ve got the same taste.”
“Oh, yes.” Briar said, nodding. She looked down at her own dress. “It’s ever so much nicer than the one I had in my village. I… did try trousers once, just to be rebellious, but they weren’t for me.”
“Huh. Wait, are you from the future, or the – “
Wendy cut herself off, shaking her head.
“Never mind. Multiverse is weird, next question.”
Briar nodded enthusiastically.
“Oh, I know what you mean! Everything is so different from what I’ve come to expect.”
She smiled slightly.
“Not much chance for travel when the most exotic thing your village knows about happens to be a new variety of mushroom, I suppose. And I’m sorry to say that they weren’t all too accepting of those, either. But I suppose I always knew there was a bigger world out there – even though I never thought I’d get to see it.”
“Yeah, so did I.” Wendy agreed. “Although, in my case, I was thinking more… ‘world travel’ than ‘totally different understanding of reality itself’.”
“Still, it’s all so wonderful, isn’t it?” Briar continued. “So much to do, so many wonderful things which I never had any idea about!”
“It is pretty great.” Wendy said, nodding. “So, how’d you fall into all of this, anyway? Bus? Er – space bus? Or… sorry, uh… horse-drawn carriage…?”
The Queen cleared her throat.
“Fascinating chat, Wendy and not-Wendy.” she put in, “But I’m going to go see if I can’t work out some kind of marketing deal with that drink mixer. They’ve got talent, and believe me, my customers are exactly the type who’d appreciate it. Coming, Wendy?”
“Sure,” Wendy replied, with a fond eye-roll. “Want to tag along for a minute, Bri?”
“Oh!” said Briar, internally amused by the nickname – such things had been frowned upon as improper in Hammerthorne. “Yes! Thank you!”
“So,” Wendy said to her as they went, with a slight sigh. “I’m… guessing you don’t know anything about 21st-century pop culture, then? Bonding over shared experiences is all well and good, but it’s been ages since I’ve had anyone to talk to about that stuff.”
“Actually,” Briar replied, a small smile creeping onto her face, “You’d be surprised…”
******
“So there we were,” said Bos’n Claptrap of the Faction of the Fooling Fish. “Sitting around…”
“Bored.” said Jenny and Thymon in unison.
“Gee, yeah, exactly!” answered the Fish.
“You… sure were bored a lot.” Jenny observed.
The three Fish seemed to ponder this for a moment.
“Yep!” said Claptrap, after a moment. “We sure were! It was pretty hard to find new pranks to play on the same old city day in and day out, and the gaps between April Fools’ Days were pretty long. We didn’t know anything about a ‘multiverse’, way back then, or anything like that.”
“No?”
“Nope! It wasn’t until that rift to the Cupid Homeworld happened to open that we learned about that kind of thing.”
Claptrap tapped her enflippered fingers on the table, thinking.
“We wouldn’t have kept coming back, if it weren’t for the Cupids. They really were fun to prank – but even more than that, they inspired us! Every time we came back to their Homeworld, the whole Faction was in awe!”
The others nodded.
“They started out just like we did, in the same Home City, with nothing to do but slouch around the park all day looking for something to do. But they weren’t content with that, so they set off into the infinite unknown, and built ships, and found an endless amount of new and exciting things to do every single day. And they helped people in their own unique way, and they never settled for just one life – because now, they could have everything and do anything that you could ever imagine. It was a revelation!”
Claptrap smiled.
“Yep – the Cupids are an inspiration. They show you that there’s more out there than you could ever imagine, and they lead you into it too. The multiverse is a brilliant and beautiful place – and to some of us, the Cupids were sort of like a guide into that amazing world. We Fish of the Faction owe them a great deal!”
She cleared her throat.
“Anyway! Sorry for going off on a tangent. Let’s see… ah yes! Well, there we were – bored – when we happened to see a Cupid traipsing past. So we grabbed our slingshots – “
******
Century Smith glanced up from the notecards he’d made, looking nervous.
“Sorry,” he said apologetically, “I’ve never been very good on-camera.”
“That’s alright!” Jenny replied. “I’m sure you’ll be great.”
Smith smiled, still uncertain, and cleared his throat.
“Well,” he said, “I can’t lie, I’ve only ever met the Cupids very briefly, and there wasn’t much chance then for introductions – the multiverse was about to collapse, at the time. I understand that the Cupids played an important role in stopping that from occurring, and I’m sure we’re all very grateful to them for that.”
Jenny nodded.
“But just as grateful to you!” she said. “Travelling the multiverse for a century, calling off Imperial operations – on the whole, you definitely put the most time into the thing.”
Smith blushed, embarassed.
“Ah, yes – well – I suppose I do have a rather large personal stake in reality continuing to exist. Heh. Er – right. Let me see. Erm.”
He looked at the cards again, trying to remember what he’d been saying.
“Ah! Right. That’s the obvious one, of course – helping to save the multiverse – but that aside…”
Smith rubbed at the back of his neck.
“Well – I’d thought I was doing what was right, serving the Imperium. All of the research they’d done, every text in the great libraries of the Palatium, everything I’d been taught – it all seemed to concur that this was the only way to stop the Crisis. So I kept on with it, no matter how obviously terrible my boss acted towards me – but that will lay doubt in your mind, of course, after a while.”
He sighed.
“Seeing the awful measures he’d take, time and again, against things which he’d decided were anamolous – and the fact that nothing seemed to be changing – I had begun to think that the Imperium might not be entirely correct in its beliefs, after all. But – I didn’t do anything about it. I didn’t think I could, because – well, what was there to do? He was my superior. And no one would stand with me, not with his tyanny looming over us all, not with the entire Imperium – our family, our home – having been telling us the opposite all these years.”
He paused, thinking.
“But the Cupids – they seemed to be doing something right, actually managing to close some rifts without causing immense collateral damage. And – none of them were, in the slightest, anything like the Imperator. None of them were tyrants, mistreating the rest. They were… friends. Perhaps a family – a proper one. Seeing that – I think it shook off the last of my doubts about how the Imperium had been treating me. And I saw that this was a group that would stand with me at the end – no matter what.”
He nodded.
“And that was certainly lifechanging.”
******
Lainya Vantrik leaned back in her chair, thinking.
“Well,” she said, “This is definitely a new one. Hired to take part in a documentary. Hm.”
She tapped her fingers on the table, then let out a sigh.
“Alright, let’s see. The Copper-Colored Cupids. Well…”
She shrugged.
“To be honest, in my business, whether someone’s “good” or “bad” or whatever isn’t a topic that gets a lot of play. For obvious reasons. So I can’t say I have any particular opinions on that aspect of the conversation. But…”
Vantrik bit her lip, looking slightly embarassed.
“Well – the Cupids are fun, aren’t they? In this line of work, things can get pretty grimdark a lot of the time… not a lot of room for levity. And that aside, so much of hired-assassinating is just so repetitively boring. But when those weirdos show up – they just make things more entertaining. Even when they’re being single-mindedly annoying about it.”
She shrugged.
“Sometimes having a bunch of crazy copper robots poking around is just the thing you need to switch things up, cast off the doldrums.”
Vantrik tapped at her wristwatch.
“Anyway – sorry, but I need to get going pretty quickly. You know how sometimes time-travelling assassins get caught in a ‘twenty-four hours to escape your death’ kind of situation?”
Jenny nodded.
“Well, one of them’s hired me to kill Death. Which is going to rack up quite a fee. See you later. Or, you know… hope not, for your sake.”
She pressed the transport button and vanished in a flash of purple.
******
“Alright,” said the Gorilla, looking tipsy, “Well – alright, here’s the deal.”
He looked around, as if in fear of hidden spies.
“You’ve gotta – you’ve gotta promise me you won’t tell the rest of the Gang.”
Jenny flashed him a thumbs-up.
“Well, look, here’s the thing.” he said. “‘course we hate the Cupids. They’re the worst, and they’re real bad news, you get the gist. But…”
He leaned in, entirely too close to the camera.
“But, here’s the truth of it. No one in the whole world cared about us. About whether gorillas were green or not. No one ever had, and no one ever would. The color of an ape’s fur – it’s just not the kinda thing most people are enlightened enough to think about. We woulda kept going about it, a’course, it’s built into the genes by – by yer man there – whossisname – Scarper, you know – but – but I’ll bet a whole lot of us woulda been real, really bored by now. Worse than we are, I mean.”
He leaned back.
“But the Cupids – they cared. They took one look and decided that they hated us. Which was good, ’cause we felt the same. But havin’ a nemesis – having a really good animosity – sometimes it’s just what you need. Sometimes the only way a Gorilla can stand to drag ’emself out the bed in the morning is because we know the Cupids’ll hate whatever it is we accomplish that day. It gave us a… purpose. Beyond the obvious one. The Gang of the Green Gorilla and the Crew of the Copper-Colored Cupids – locked together in eternal, mutual resentment. We complete each other, in some horrid way. I wouldn’t trade it f’r anything.”
He raised the last of his final glass.
“So, ‘ere’s to the Cupids. Sometimes, it’s just nice to know that someone cares enough about ya to scheme up your downfall. Sometimes you need something to be and sometimes that’s someone else’s villain. Sometimes – an archnemesis just means a lot to ya.”
******
Aphrodite had long ago grown weary of the love affairs of the Earth. Oh, it was all very well and good, she supposed – but there had been no true innovations in mortal lovemaking in such a long time, none that would register as such to a goddess’s mind. In her day, there had been scandalous romance between mortals and the gods themselves – there had been quests into the very depths of the Underworld to save beloved partners – there had been unspeakable things involving artificial livestock. There just wasn’t very much in the modern world that could hold a candle to all of that.
But then, just a short while ago, for the first time in a very long time – a romance as of old had begun within an aspect of Aphrodite’s domain.
The Cupid Homeworld had always been a peculiarly romanceless pocket universe. For all that its clockwork inhabitants preached the value of love, they were not inclined towards such things themselves – and the same seemed to be true for most of the other inhabitants which the dimension had accrued throughout the years.
That was, at least, until she had arrived. Jenny Everywhere. The multiversal aberration who’d managed, at long last, to ensnare the heart of the monster that called itself Thymon. This strange woman – so much like any mortal in her outer aspects, yet so much more beneath the surface – had charmed the daimon of the Howling Void as none before her ever could. They had borne a child, a feat unsuspected by any who may have pondered upon the subject – they had even wed, after many trials.
The ongoing saga had been so much more entertaining than the usual soap operas.
It was for this reason that, when Jenny and Thymon had dropped a few hints about going off on a romantic getaway to a place which they called the Interdimensional Tavern – a location, though it chagrined her to think of it, thoroughly outside of her remit – she had realised that, if she was to remain properly caught up on The Life of Jenny and Thymon – she would have no choice but to follow them.
Such a thing was not impossible for a God of the First. That old fool Odin had managed it not so very long ago, and she was fairly certain Hermes had done some travelling through the outer realms at some point during this long, long period of boredom which had been plaguing all of the old gods for centuries upon centuries. Aphrodite had a good deal of Divine Power stored up for immediate use, no offerings required – she did not, after all, have much use for it nowadays, other than keeping her VPN set up, and the Cupids’ worship generated a constant low-grade stream of veneration – so when the time had come to set out, it had taken no especially unthinkable effort to direct her chariot yoked with lovely sparrows onwards past the astral paths and into the Void Without.
It had been Aphrodite’s intention that she should appear in mortal guise, already seated at any one of the tables which she felt would surely await her within this tavern; entirely discreet, able to observe any steamy developments that might be taking place between the Shifter and the Time-God without attracting the slighest attention – which, for the Goddess Aphrodite, was a feat almost as great as transcending the boundaries of her world. This part of her plan, she had pulled off without a hitch, and the goddess had alighted before the most convenient table and settled herself in to wait for any forthcoming items of intrigue and entertainment, wearing the form of a simple wandering traveller. It was only upon casting her gaze about the room in which she had found herself did she realise the terrible truth: there was only one table here, she was the only person seated at it, and there was a camera pointed at her face.
“Hi, Aphrodite!” Jenny said, smiling. She paused, and her smile turned sheepish. “Sorry, is – is that too informal? Would you prefer ‘Great Goddess’, or – ?”
In the blink of an eye, the Goddess had drawn herself up before them, shedding her guise; and suddenly even Thymon could see a glimpse of what the mortals of old had feared in their gods. Aphrodite was breathtakingly beautiful, but in this moment it was the otherworldly beauty of a thunderstorm, of an avalanche, of a tsunami – powerful and fundamental and unstoppable and extremely dangerous. No mere demon or mortal witch sat before them – here was a foundational cog in the fabric of a world, a component of the cosmic architecture the same as the sky or the stars themselves, and to look upon her inspired in a person the same wild fear and wonder as the endless depths of the night sky above or the uncharted fury of the open sea.
“We’rE vErY sOrRy.” said Thymon, who felt that he ought to show their Great Goddess the same respect that the Cupids did, if only for their sake. He wrung his tentacles guiltily. “We’vE lIeD tO yOu – BuT iT wAs OnLy FoR tHe BeNeFiT oF tHoSe MoSt DeDiCaTeD aMoNg YoUr WoRsHiPeRs, ThE cReW oF tHe CoPpEr-CoLoReD cUpIdS.”
This did not seem to alleviate Aphrodite’s anger. She allowed herself another moment of silent, divine fury – then said: “And tell me, then, why I should not inflict proper punishment upon the pair of you here and now?”
“wElL, nOw, SeE hErE – i’vE bEeN a GoD, mYsElF, iN tHe PaSt.” Thymon responded, frowning. “CuLtIsTs CaN bE iRrItAtInG, bUt WhEn ThEy Go OuT oF tHeIr WaY tO cOnTaCt YoU, iT’S bEsT tO aT lEaSt LiStEn BeFoRe YoU sMiTe ThEm.”
He cast his eye downward.
“NoT tHaT i WoUlD dO sUcH a ThInG, tHeSe DaYs.”
Aphrodite took a breath. As much as she hated to be decieved (almost as much as she hated to be summoned) – these were Jenny and Thymon, and smiting them now would surely put a damper on her future enjoyment of their exploits. So she folded her hands before her with just the slightest edge of warning menace and allowed a thin smile with the overwhelming air of ‘this had better be very quick’ to appear upon her face.
“Very well. I’m listening…”
Jenny explained the situation, and the trace of a smile fully vanished. This was what she – she, Aphrodite – had been tricked to facilitate? A birthday present for those irritating automata?
Well, fair enough. As long as it was quick.
“I suppose,” she said, her eyes still deep and entirely stern, “That it has been nice to be appreciated as in the old days. Alone among my pantheon, I still have purpose, minor though it may be, and it is to them which I owe that purpose. They are as dedicated worshipers as any I have ever known, and would surely have been favorites of any god, had they dwelled upon the Earth in the days of myth. Annoying though the false Cupids may be, it cannot be denied that they have saved some of the lost and fading magics of the past and allowed them to live on within their realm. Their Archives, if nothing else, prove them to be librarians and caretakers of forgotten things; certainly some items among that knowledge would have died long ago if not for them – which, I suppose, is as worthy a thing as any.”
She looked at Jenny and Thymon.
“And their habit of bringing peculiar friends home to their world has made for passable entertainment.”
Aphrodite held for a moment, allowing them to take in her divine majesty once more, carefully creating about her a clear sense that something was about to happen – like the calm before a storm. She loved the way their breathing tensed so as they waited for the inevitable, wrapped entirely around her divine finger – completely enraptured. That was how it was meant to be.
“And that,” she said at last, “is all.”
And then she was gone.
******
His many metallic legs clattering on the wooden floor, Cesse raced across the dining area, checking the date which had been written on his invitation against his internal calendar. Helping Doctor Sigma patch up an old Fog Ship had overrun, but it seemed that he wasn’t too late. That was good – he wouldn’t have missed it for the world.
Scanning the room as he went, he picked up the forms of some familiar friends – the Frost King, Alistair Neezley, Century Smith and Briar, even the Fooling Fish. That was some comfort – this was his first time being filmed, but Cesse found that it made him distinctly nervous.
As he often did after forgetting to switch back from his peripheral lenses, Cesse bonked into the leg of the chair at which he had been aiming. Remedying the camera-problem, he scattered up, coming to a rest atop the seat.
“Hullo, Cesse!” Jenny said, waving. “It’s good to see you again, old friend! Ready?”
Cesse chirped in the affirmative. Jenny angled the camera towards him – and Cesse beeped with fear as he suddenly realised that film was not the ideal medium through which to communicate via hologram.
Ah – but he had an idea. Readying his projector, Cesse displayed the image of an Imperium hat.
Jenny looked at it for a moment, puzzled – then lit up.
“Oh!” she said. “Er – Smith, we need you for a moment!”
Century Smith bounded over, looking concerned.
“Ah – am I meant to say more?” he asked, fumbling with his stack of notecards, which he proceeded to drop. He smiled sheepishly. “Sorry – I hadn’t prepared anything else.”
“No, don’t worry.” Jenny said, “But I think Cesse wants you to translate.”
“Of course! Subcinctan Audial Code.” Smith said with a nod. “I’d be happy to! I’ve been wanting to thank you for your brilliant help with those cyborgs, Cesse.”
Cesse bleeped with pleased embarrasment – then bobbed his spider-like body up and down in a nod, steadied himself – and began a long and rapid stream of beeps and whirs. Smith fumbled with his pencil, working out the code as quickly as he was able.
“He says,” Smith began, “That all throughout his long, long life, he’s known so very many people. Changed hands like an old penny, passed from owner to owner more times than he could count. None of them ever cared for him, or saw him as anything more than a servile ship-builder.”
Cesse whirred for a moment, thinking, then continued.
“He thought the same,” Smith said, “That robots were meant to follow a purpose, whatever that might be, and that nothing else could matter, no matter how he felt about it. He would have thought the same would be true of Clockwork Cherubs – that they would have no cares in life other than romanticisation. But the Cupid who chose to bring him back to the Homeworld wasn’t acting under any protocol – just ordinary kindness. And the Crew of the Copper-Colored Cupids let him stay with them, asking nothing of him to repay their hospitality – even though such a thing had no precedent in their source code. And in doing so, they taught him that he could do more, and was worth more, than he had ever suspected.”
Cesse nodded, then launched into his final volley.
“Cesse says that, looking from the outside, it might seem like robots are nothing more than a collection of directives and routines.” Smith concluded, “But in the end, it’s how they choose to interpret the gaps between mandates that really counts. And Cesse knows that, out of all of the places he’s lived, the Cupid Homeworld is the only home he’s ever known.”
Cesse beeped once more.
“He hopes that wasn’t too long.” Smith added.
“That was beautiful, Cesse.” Jenny said, sniffling slightly.
The robot chirped happily, then hopped down from the chair, aiming to catch up with some of his friends.
******
Wendy sighed, rubbing at her temples.
“Okay, look.” she said. “You know what? Fine.”
She stood slightly, putting her hands on the table. The Queen watched with interest, sipping the final pour of spiceblood she’d managed to get before Roz had frustradedly put a padlock on the cabinet which contained it, refusing to give her any more free glasses of their precious reserve.
“The Cupids were built for an exceptionally creepy purpose by some crazy old mad scientist and then herded away into a pocket-universe for the next six decades.” she said. “Given all of that, you’d expect them to be way worse than they are. So, yes, I don’t think I’m wrong – the Crew is kind of weird and bad. But fine, yeah, fair enough – the fact that any of them turned out almost normal, almost likeable, is pretty impressive.”
She crossed her arms.
“They’re an army of robots who don’t even understand what love is – or free will, for that matter! – and yet so many of them have managed to be decent people anyway.”
Wendy sat back down in her chair.
“So there’s your statement. With everything stacked against them in that regard, I’m proud of how far the Cupids have managed to come, and I wish them all the best with it in the future. Happy?”
Jenny nodded.
“Yes,” she said, “I think that’s fair enough.”
*******
“There I stood,” said Alistair Neezley, gesturing widely, “Alone on the battlefield – the sole defender of the multiverse, reality’s only shield. The enormous turtle-shaped mech-suit pounded its fists together, the shockwaves reverberating across the planet as its pilot, Lord Tergusa, prepped the eye-beams. This was it: my final hour – my last stand – my greatest moment! All of the Krynos stood against me – but I would not fall!”
He jumped atop the table, spreading his arms wide.
“‘My former people!’ I shouted, ‘I will not allow you to end this multiverse! Yes, there have been wonderful stories told here – but is that really such a horrible crime? Why can you not accept such things – embrace them, as I have? I will fight against you to the end – no matter how the forces of the Kron intend to wage this terrible war, I shall be ready!’ The mecha-turtle just laughed its horrible laugh, as the eye-beams engaged. In that moment – for the first time in my life, and despite my sturdy resolve to stand strong no matter what should happen – I felt fear, deep inside my heart. Could this be the end, not only of my adventures – but of all adventures, of the very world in which they could be had?”
Neezley wiped a tear from his eye.
“But then! Just as all hope seemed lost – a light emerged from out of the darkness! It was a portal, a great vortex in the air – and through it was stepping… no! I could scarcely believe my eyes! But it was true! Every friend and foe and companion I had ever known was emerging from this wondrous wormhole, here to stand by my side as I fought this valiant battle! There were creepworms and gargoyles swooping in from out of the shadows to stand, at last, for the light! There were Arisrians diving on quintuple-wings, the songs of Kragza in their hearts! There were the glorks which I had sheperded as tenderly as if they were my own children – the evil cubes of jelly who had once shied from my daring spoonsmanship – the scorpions, united at last with their ancestral foes, the lighthouse goblins! The were-chicken’s mother was there, as determined as ever – my dear brother-in-law was ready with bow-and-arrow – the Master of Meringues had tapped into the whole of his vast powers – and all the armies of the Pelican Nation were marching as one! The Witch of Walpurgisnacht and the cheesecake fairy, the lobster-man and the Lobster Guardian, even that old polar bear miser Ebefreezer Scrooge and the Neptunian Star Patrol had turned out to help in my ultimate task – not to mention my dear friends, the pumpkin-people of Tetrayon-Five!”
Neezley cleared his throat, preparing.
“We rushed at them as one, just as Lord Tergusa fired the eye-beams! Our two armies clashed – the greatest power in the multiverse versus the heroes of a thousand stories! The turtle-mech swung its enormous arm – but I leapt at the last second – drew the sword which was personally gifted to me by the Frost King himself – and – !”
“NeEzLeY,” said Thymon, “dO tHe CuPiDs EvEr CoMe InTo ThIs StOrY?”
“Oh!” Neezley replied, looking surprised. He thought about it for a moment. “Huh! No, I guess not, come to think of it.”
******
Jenny smiled as Thymon pointed the camera at her.
“I know the Cupids aren’t perfect,” she began. “Sorry, Thyme, but it’s true. They can be single-minded, and bothersome, and hard to get along with, and, yeah, sometimes they do bad things.”
She crossed her arms in front of her.
“But – “ she continued, “When versions of me were dying all over the multiverse, one of them took time off from his mad renegade-hunt to help me solve it. When I fell in love with Thyme, and we had Sophie, and my house got crushed by an electro-cat – the Cupids let me and her live in their Homeworld, without a single question asked. And when we wanted a wedding – they did absolutely everything in their power to make it the best one ever, in a day. Not to mention the Christmases we’ve spent together. I don’t know why they did those things – but I know that they did, and that I’m not the only person they’ve done that kind of thing for. And I know that means that there’s something deeply good in among the rest of whatever it is that makes a Cupid tick.”
She smiled.
“So – happy anniversary to the Crew of the Copper-Colored Cupids, and here’s to many more!”
******
The guests had begun to clear out, either by their own power or with Jenny or Thymon’s help. ‘234 had chased the Green Gorilla out of the kitchen, the waiters had rounded up the last of the Fish and sent them on their way, and the Drink-Mixer had convinced Larrikin to take Sneer and leave by giving him all of their best fermented fruits for throwing purposes. Jenny had shifted a heap of gold into the Tavern’s tip jar as thanks for their help, and now, the staff, Jenny, and Thymon were giving the floor a thorough sweeping, preparing to move the tables back into place.
“YoU kNoW,” said Thymon, as they paused for a moment to look back over some of the footage, “tHeRe ArE oNlY a FeW cUpIdS wE’Re GoInG tO bE aBlE tO sHoW tHiS tO.”
“Yeah,” Jenny replied, “But in the end, they’re probably who it’s for.”
Thymon bobbed up and down in a nod – then sighed.
“I’M sOrRy If I wAs GrUmPy ToDaY, mY dEaR.” he said sheepishly, wiggling his tendrils. “I jUsT… vErY mUcH wAnTeD tHiS tO bE a NiCe PrEsEnT.”
Grinning, Jenny swept Thymon’s hat off and planted a kiss above his eye, causing him to blush. She returned the hat, then said:
“It will be.”
She cracked another, teasing smile.
“And – don’t worry. I have a thing for obsessive weirdos, remember?”
She poked him playfully, then placed the camera back in her pocket – and heard a creaking from behind. Turning along with Thymon, the pair of them saw that there was now a second chair beside the first – a rocking-chair, with a kindly old woman sitting in it.
“Oh, hello, Monita!” Jenny exclaimed. “Thyme, this is Monita, the Abstract of Remembrance. But, hey, what are you doing here? Not that I’m not happy to see you!”
“Well,” she said with a smile, “I thought I might put in a word.”
“Oh, please do!” Jenny said, turning on the camera. “I didn’t realise you knew the Cupids!”
“I know everyone, my dear.” Monita replied, with a twinkle in her eye. “There isn’t anyone in the multiverse who doesn’t end up in a thrilling tale or a fond memory someday.”
She faced the camera.
“And the Cupids are among my favorites. Able to find themselves in any world, any genre, any plot – and what a cast of supporting characters they’ve accrued!”
Monita winked.
“Oh, you can say what you like about them, and you may just be right – they can be strange, and obsessive – disruptive, and just plain bothersome – but isn’t that what makes them so much fun? And doesn’t having them around make things in our little corner of the multiverse just a little bit more… interesting? Stirring stories in motion, kicking arcs into gear, and bridging the gaps between worlds and people so different they might never have otherwise met. Would any of you have come together here today – or ever – if not for them?”
Jenny shook her head.
“This is a world of wonderful stories,” Monita finished, “And I have to thank the Cupids for providing an opportunity to tell just a few more of them.”
And with that, she was gone. Jenny and Thymon looked at each other.
“Well, there we go!” Jenny said. “An epilogue!”
******
Every morning was bright in the Cupid Homeworld, but this one seemed especially so. Colonel-028 trundled along the length of the Mainland Cloud, whistling a merry tune and giving a sporting wave to all he passed.
The Department of Problem-Solving were out in force, dealing with a docile Tasmanian tiger – Edwin attempting to photograph the beast as Juliet, Carter, and a circling Valerius led it towards the Fog Ship which stood waiting to carry it home. Ah, and there were Marksmanship and Tracker – engaged in cheerful conversation about nothing in particular as they sat, legs dangling, on the glowing silver lining of the cloud’s edge – looking out over the vast expanse of the Homeworld before them as the hound pranced playfully across the celfoam behind.
Somewhere between the Postal Services Building and the Temple of Aphrodite, the Colonel stopped to watch as Dandy led an excited Ally, a tolerant Acquaintanceship, and a grudging Pessimist in a game of croquet – the Pseudo-Pessimist hanging back to converse with the Sapient Fog Ship on all manner of interesting locales they hoped someday to see. He chuckled fondly, then moved along.
The Colonel could just about catch a glimpse of Lethe and Bibliophile on the cloud surrounding the distant Archives, with maps and tomes spread all about them – conducting a comprehensive study of some new topic out in the open air, as, in the Archives proper, the Mechanical Sphinx looked on – its ancient and watchful gaze fixed, as ever, on the Homeworld below and on all who now dwelled within. And here was Doctor Sigma, eagerly testing a new automatic tea-delivery system upon the grounds of the Celestial Foam Network, sipping from a cup with a satisfied smile upon his ever-eccentric face. Arganthone was getting in their usual excersise, giving a good-natured wave to the Colonel as he passed – Celebration’s band was playing with such enthusiasm that one almost couldn’t help but enjoy it – and if Philatel and Foreman were arguing over another warehouse, well, today it seemed almost to be in the cadence of an old disagreement between old friends.
The Colonel smiled as he looked over the world he’d called his own for many long and brilliant decades. Oh, it wasn’t perfect – nothing was. Still – it was home.
And he wouldn’t have traded it for anything.
Happy Fifth Anniversary to the Crew of the Copper-Colored Cupids!
THE END
Written by Lupan Evezan
The character of Jenny Everywhere is available for use by anyone, with only one condition. This paragraph must be included in any publication involving Jenny Everywhere, in order that others may use this property as they wish. All rights reversed.
The character of Sophie Everytime is available for use by anyone, with only one condition. This paragraph must be included in any publication involving Sophie Everytime, in order that others may use this property as they wish. All rights reversed.
The character of Jenny Over-There is available for use by anyone, with only one condition. This paragraph must be included in any publication involving Jenny Over-There, in order that others may use this property as they wish. All rights reversed.
The character of Laura Drake was created by Jeanne Morningstar and is available for use by anyone.
The Abstracts were created by Benj Christensen and are available for use by anyone. Monita, the Abstract of Remembrance, was created by Aristide Twain and is available for use by anyone.
The character of the Man in Grey was created by Callum Phillpott and is available for use by anyone.
The character of the Electro-Cat was created by Aristide Twain and is available for use by anyone.
Lady Aesculapius used with the kind permission of James Wylder.
Thanks also to Peter Guy, Lillanus Vessus, and Scott Sanford.
The Crew of the Copper-Colored Cupids 