Mighty Boosh Fanfiction: Present Sailors Part 11
Title: Present Sailors part 11
Pairing: Howard/Vince
Summary: Towards the End Of Things
Word Count: Part 11: 6893
Rating: 12 by British ratings. There is some violence and stronger language at the end, but nothing very gratuitous.
Disclaimer: Mighty Boosh, its characters and situations belong heart, mind and soul to Noel Fielding and Julian Barrett- and for their meeting and conceiving of such a world we forever more heartily thank them. I own nothing; I’m just playing with the pieces for a space.

Big thanks especially to: leonleif and smaychel (although she's going to claim she's had no influence, I cannot dis-clude her, because she has!) for their kind comments and support.




To shield her eyes against the sun’s noonday heat, the Captain raised a hand and squinted along the deck to the bow, where Howard’s lone figure leaned forwards, as if he could eat up the waves themselves by his impatience.
The Captain turned back to the Bo’sun, who had arrived back on board ship with a Howard absolutely fizzing with impatience. With snapping eye and set mouth that brooked no argument, with one foot on the deck, Howard had set out instruction for ‘weighing anchor, or sifting it, or decorating the bloody thing with icing, or whatever you sea types do, but for God’s sake, get a move on.’
He hadn’t even cowered from the waves in the low-gunwaled longboat on the return, but crouching in a pose redolent of action-hero-trying-to-look-assertive-but-not-get-unbalanced-into-the-water, then sprung- yes- sprung onto the rope ladder on the ship’s side. Only one foot had missed, splashing into the sea, but he hadn’t cared, dragging it up and climbing with enthusiasm, if with no finesse, until he was on deck, then he had galloped for the hatchway, barking his orders as he went. Bemused, the Captain found herself and her crew beginning to automatically begin to see to it and heave-ho away, before they stopped, embarrassed, and stared back at her. She gestured them on, as a gob-smacked Bo’sun moved to stand by her.
“The very ghost of Captain Harold!” the Bo’sun had offered in whispered breath.
The captain had shot her a sharp glance, but then deflated somewhat, cherished old wounds of the heart defeated in the face of obviousness.
“Tha’ ‘e is.”
“What do we do?”
The Captain suddenly looked very tired, and nearly all of her forty-plus years. For a pirate, she’d been around and operating a long, long time, and with the prospect of bringing about the end of all things, suddenly she felt every ounce of her years- every choice chosen, every feeling felt. And the end of all things suddenly seemed a very attractive option… sod it.
“We follow, Bo’sun, we follow, my bally girl.” The Captain clapped the Bo’sun on the back. “A last great adventure!”
The Bo’sun stared worriedly at her captain. She’d follow her to death and back- and had done in the past- but this morbid, gallows humour in her captain’s eye she did not like.
“For all of us, ma’am?”
“Hmmm?” The Captain turned back from watching the crew run about their de-mooring tasks like a well-oiled. Many-armed machine. She blinked and thought back to the Bo’sun’s question, then smiled.
“Yes, Bo’sun, f’all of everyone!”
The look in the Captain’s eye made the Bo’sun quiver unconsciously. At that moment, Howard came boiling up the hatchway and paced with an edgy energy to the bow, where he remained glued to the spot, as if drawing up the horizon by his eyes. Around his waist was tied a new trophy- the brightly coloured and still-glittery jacket thing that he’d come on board with. It had accompanied him on his chores of yesterday, and now made reappearance over the piratical attire he sported. Daft and incongruous as it was, it worked. Captain and Bo’sun watched him stroke a sleeve thoughtfully between thumb and forefinger as he stared out into the burning void of a calm sea at high noon.
“Y’see, Bo’sun,” the Captain continued, as if they had been discussing the point closely right up until that moment, with no pause to watch Howard’s astonishing behaviour, “when one thing ends, an’ther b’gins.” She fixed her second in command with a steady, but saddened eye. “An’ I want things t’change.”
The Bo’sun watched her, puzzled and just a little afraid, as she strode up the deck to join Howard at the rail.

“We’re off ‘n goin’, cap’n Moon,” the Captain teased gently. “Buh’ I do ‘ave one small question.”
“Hum?” Howard scarcely glanced at her. Concentrated, worried, driven, his face looked… older than before; older in a good way; like it had finally come into focus, an inner- for want of a better description- nobility of spirit having lifted away the sense of self, self, self, to provide a view of something else, someone else in need…

“What did y’see on th’Island?”
“I saw…” Howard’s face frowned, and then crumpled slightly as words failed him. “I- I saw something that should not- must not- never been- have allowed- to happen.” His expression became confused and he gripped the rail as if for support. The Captain waited. Then, after a period of time passed and his confusion had not lessened, she gave a gentle poke.
“What y’goin’ t’do about it?”
Howard turned to her then, his face falling into distress and dismay. “I don’t know!” he wailed. “I had this- this idea- to go, to move- to find- but… I don’t know how! I- urch!”
The Captain stepped back hurriedly. The medallion around his neck had jerked into life- literally. It had risen and yanked forwards, dragging Howard with it a few inches, until he braced his hands on the rail and managed to pull back enough to be able to breath again. He stared down at it, terror and confusion sweeping his eyes.
“Never mind, a’think it knows!” the Captain assured him.
The medallion gave a swift extra jerk, then remained pointing out to sea, as if gesticulating impatiently towards something coming, something important, and all it had to work with were these damn fool humans…
“Bo’sun! Sent course sou’sou west!”
“Aye aye! Sou’sou-west!”
As if satisfied job done, the medallion dropped heavily against Howard’s chest once more. He buckled slightly under the sudden loss of tension, and rubbed his throat ruefully.
“Y’ready, lad?”
“For what?” something of the old petulance back again. Good. At least he hadn’t been so startled that he’d lost all sense of himself- however grating, frustrating and frankly daft that self could be.
The Captain grinned. “F’ th’ end of things!”
Howard gulped, nervously.

“Where, exactly, are we goin’?” Vince glared across at Reticulo, who merely stared back, brown eyes a little too innocently widened.
“We’re ‘eadin’ for th’dawn, my lovely.”
Vince opened his mouth to ask more questions, when there was a jerk on his neck, and the medallion, thrusting upright, shot outwards, dragging Vince within a few feet in the air, dragging like a demented puppy sensing excitement.
Vince gave a sqwark and grabbed onto the chain. The medallion gave a final, cheerful yank, and then dropped flat and normal again onto Vince’s chest. He gave a gasp and rubbed at his abused neck, a flush of faint bruises starting to stand out against the pale skin. He looked up to find Reticulo, ahead of the others, staring at him, eyes wide with surprise- genuine surprise. The vampire leader pulled it back quickly, though, dropping his face into a relaxed pose of superiority, Vince wondered if he’d ever actually been looking amazed at all.
“Like I said, luvvy, towards th’ dawn!”
“Why- why the dawn?”
Rix and Tolls swooshed by him, grinning devilishly.
“Tomorrow is a country one cannot return to,” Tolls told him.
“No retreat, no surrender- onward!” Rix informed him.
Vince made a tired, pissed-off face and when Davood touched his shoulder and offered to fly with him, he gladly took the offer of sympathetic company.

Vince’s brain cell, back in business (sat down and sternly ticked off for being a deserting wretch by the Instincts and Habits and overworked Memory Cell) scrambled to collate what information it could on Reticulo to date.
1. he was very pretty
2. he was a vampire lord of some kind (oh, so Anne Rice, so very last millennium, yawn)
3. the vampires seemed to see themselves as defenders of this world, and were upset by it being overrun by other people-
4. the vampires wanted to reset things back to their proper place-
5. they had sent him, Vince, into the castle to collect a Treasure to do with all this, and where-
6. he’d met a Howard-a-like; well, what Howard might have ended up like without-
-it struck both Brain Cell and Vince so hard that they all but physically doubled up under the blow. What Howard might have ended up like without Vince! Without Vince there to tease him, draw him into silly rain dances, rescue him, point out when he was being daft; amuse and lighten up his life. Vince stared at Tolls and Rix, now flying slightly ahead of him, either side of Reticulo. They seemed to be talking in low tones, and the glance that Rix threw back made Vince quail inwardly and react instinctively- he pulled a face and made a ‘whatever’ shrug. Rix frowned, grimaced in response, then turned back to his chief, his expression and turned shoulder suggesting more a tattle-tale in progress than any real threat. Vince’s Brain Cell dismissed him without a thought.

What could not be ignored, however, were the disturbing gaps appearing all over the place in this latest adventure. Having actually been and gone and done most of it, Vince had a moment as they flew onward to do something he rarely did- collate his thoughts. ‘Collate’- it was such a Howard word, that. And wasn’t it something to do with printers and photocopying? Technical stuff, anyway- things Vince didn’t have to concern himself with. Beyond mobile, VCR and kettle operations, Vince’s world was not one to admit of hugely complex machinery. Machinery wasn’t personal, it wasn’t human, and Vince was a people person- always would be.
Right now, the one person he wanted more than any other there with him he didn’t have, and that brought his meandering thoughts back again. He winced slightly, shifting the medallion on the chain around his neck- was it feeling heavier, flying along like this?
So what had he done, then, that was giving his Brain Cell jip to pin down? Going off in search of Treasure, shiny things and generally having a strange and good time were all high on Vince’s list of Things I Like To Do. Indeed, his and Howard’s life, while not always utterly odd, had had multiple moments of real weirdness. They lived something close to a charmed life. Heh- ‘charmed’ like the TV series; all oogie-boogie and magical and strange a bit frightening in places. Howard didn’t like frightening. In fact, it was more often than not Vince who had to be the brave one; facing danger, grinning his big smile and saying ‘al’righ’’ in the face of dastardly odds. His charm and persistent good nature nearly always won the day, whereas Howard… Howard- he- well…um…ragged images flashed in Vince’s mind, as if dragged out despite something trying to hold them back… kind, strong hands, making much-needed tea… brown eyes staring at him in incredulous amazement as he jitter-bugged around the shop… an eternal, pig-headed stubbornness that actually, squinted at sideways in a dim light, could be mistaken for a kind of bravery… a voice raised in perfect partnership with Vince’s, crimping the words of two minds touching on just one soul, if but for a moment…
Vince’s Brain Cell squirmed, embarrassedly. The images shattered.
Howard

”Hey!”
“Yerrsss?”
Vince frowned down at the glitter-ball-suited Cell, hands on his hips and pouting with impatience. How he’d suddenly gone into his own head and stood facing his own mind he didn’t know, nor want to care. He was too agitated and- yes- angry to care about tiny details.
“What aren’t y’tellin’ me?”
The Brain Cell shuffled papers, trying to look important.
“Oy!” Vince lunged forward and grabbed his Brain Cell by its glitter-shirted front. It yelped and wriggled.
“Hey! Mind the threads!”
“Why won’t ya let me think abou’ what Howard did- does!- for me?”
“Because you need to think straight, right now, about what’s going on.” The Cell affected a stern expression. Under its hugely expanded head and glittery body suit, such an expression utterly failed to impress. Vince folded metaphorical arms.
“I want t’ know, what does Howard do for me?”
The Cell rolled its eyes. “This is not going to help you- or us- get out of this!”
“I think… I think it might be important!”
The Cell narrowed its eyes. “Why?”
Vince felt something uncertain flip in his tummy regions. He stumbled a moment, over words and feet. “B-because… I… I can’t finish this withou’ him- and I wanna go home!” His brow furrowed, petulant. “So tell me, Brain Cell, what the ‘ell does he do for me tha you won’t let m’see- I have< t’know!”
The Cell looked distinctly annoyed. “You know what he does for you. It should be bleedin’ obvious by now.”
Vince’s face dropped, gormless; pure redneck style. The Cell sighed. “And y’say I’m less than genius! Vince, you- we- us- may be brave ‘n’ lucky ‘n’ charming, but without Howard, we’ve got no heart.” Vince stared at the Cell, who stared back, face regretful. “We’re so blessed with looks ‘n’ charisma, there’s little room left for feeling. Howard- he keeps us- we- you… well… wanted.”
Vince felt something cold run down his cheek. He swiped at it. Tears. Tears for his friend, for his… heart.

“How come we’re only talkin’ ‘bout this now?” he groused.
The Cell stared and shrugged, face suddenly cold. “You asked.”
Vince frowned. “You said there was soemthin’ else goin’ on? What?” a thought struck him. “Will it stop me getting Howard back?”
The Cell pondered. “Look, y’halfway there, right? Ok, so you’re with this merry band a’ the undead. They tell you ‘things aren’t good’”- the Cell made inverted commas around the semi-quotations- “an’ they want to ‘set things right’. To do it, they need a Treasure. They need you to get it. But somehow it will also magically bring back Howard? Like how? And doesn’t ‘set things right’ comin’ from that dodgy bastard Reticulo sound more than a little like ‘set ourselves up as the kings a’ this place’?” The Cell, having all but launched itself over its desk with the excitement, sank back, exhausted. The secretarial Cell bustled in from next door, fanning the cell’s overheated head, fussing with water and casting evil glances at Vince for getting her beloved employer so worked up.
“Go, go- sort th’ mess out, Vince!”
“How?”
“Between the vampires tryin’ t’ take over the world and that rather fancy bit of jewellery round y’neck, there’s a way to get Howard back and go home.”
“How?”
“Don’t look at me! I’m in your head and knackered enough as it is! Now bugger off and do what we do best at- workin’ it out as we go on an’ getting’ it all right in the end! Ooh, that feels nice!” The Cell grinned weakly up at the Secretary, who flustered and rebathed his forehead with a moist towelette.

“Urf!” Vince shook himself- and nearly dropped out of the sky.
“Whoa!” the voice had a hand, which clamped painfully onto his arm and pulled him up again. Vince yelped in pained surprise, and an arm snaked around his waist, a body held close to his. For a confused moment he thought it was Howard, and turned with a smile, expecting to see- well, not Davood’s face, anyway. Pleasant as it was, framed with brown hair, eyes dark with worry, it wasn’t the one Vince took it for.
“You alright, mate? You got kinda… small there for a moment.”
“Yeah, I was inside my own head- look, why are we headin’ f’the dawn- really?”
Davood looked... shifty.
“Dav- what’s going on?” Vince asked in an undertone.
The poor vampire looked torn. Vince could see that he had a good heart- unlike the secretive Reticulo, the scheming Rix, the arrogant Tolls or the creepy Ruberry, Davood actually seemed to care about Vince. Maybe if he could be got to care just enough, Vince would find out some of the things that his Brain Cell had pointed out were missing from this scenario.
“Where are we going, Dav?”
“No’ nor-east!” Davood tried flippancy; Vince was not to be swayed, however. Davood looked miserable. “It’s th’ direction y’Treasure was pointin’ in!”
“Why won’t Reticulo give me a straight answer about what this is for?” Vince jounced the medallion. “And how, exactly do I get Howard back?”
Davood tried to turn away, but Vince grabbed a handful of his robe and yanked him back.
“What is it?”
At that moment Reticulo and Rix turned, sending truly evil glares back towards the pair of them. Vince felt Davood quail, and in the dark, filthy stare of the two lead vampires, he felt his own personal radiance shrink away.
Something was very, very wrong about this.
Under the cloud mass they flew through and over, a few faint screams drifted upwards.

Vince was no total pacifist, but he was all for live and let live. The darker side of his imaginings- even the Pelt The Rabbit game- was laced with laughs and smiles. Vince straddled the worlds of light and dark by shining into the dark and striding unafraid into the light. Before him, boundaries crumbled; the ‘Confuser’ in every sense. But he would never consciously hurt someone; he would never, ever go to war.
From down below, now closer, there was a bellow of sound. A cannon roar. Then another.
The clouds around them burst open into a glorious morning dazzle of fun blazing on sea, and Vince watched with mounting horror as a great wave of black-clad figures fell from the skies, screaming downwards towards a ship on the blue, blue sea below- a ship that had pulled up beside an incongruously floating building, the name ‘Nabootique’ painted over its front only vaguely discernable in the glare from the water.
Reticulo spun in the air and Vince saw that his face was pulled back into a desperate, savage grin.
“Welcome to the final battle, Vince! And this-” Reticulo made a savage snatching motion towards the medallion “is going to give us the victory we so justly deserve!”
“Hey!” Vince’s mouth flapped, and he reactively grabbed the chain and held the Treasure away from the- frankly insane-looking- Reticulo. “What’s going on?”
Rix gave Vince a pitying look. “Poor little Vincey- so pretty, so useful, so… dumb.”
Vince’s eyes became huge, blue saucers. An awful sensation of pieces falling into place dropped the world away. No, no, nonono….
Ruberry was laughing, clapping his hands together, cherubic face squinted up with glee.
“Finally Vampys win! Finally Vampys rule as we should! Finally we get the pretty-pretty Treasure and -take -back -our -life!”
He snapped his jaw shut right before Vince’s face, the spittle from his lips slapping Vince across the cheek.
There was a pause.
“Yeah, sure, right, Ruberry, you idiot! Why don’t you just tell him everything? Yeah, right down to it, Rube, right down and everything!” Rix exploded, exasperated.
“Huh?” Vince stared from one to the other, confused. Reticulo facepalmed

Hurriedly gathering his fast-fading control of the situation, Reticulo grabbed Vince’s shoulder and pulled him forwards and down, closer towards the pitched battle. What looked like a boat load of female pirates was giving their all against assembled flying ranks of other dark-clad vampires. Overhead, sunshine and clouds warred for supremacy, alternating bright sun and deep shade, as if the very elements themselves were joining in the struggle.
“See! See th’ rogue el’ments a’ this land tha’ we ‘ave t’ bring t’ heel in order t’ restore true peace an’ control!” Reticulo told Vince, eyes flashing with a fanatical zeal.
Vince stared, from Reticulo’s transfigured face to the battle and back again.
“’An tha-” Reticulo pointed to the crescent-sun-shaped medallion on Vince’s chest, “tha’ will ‘elp us! Y’part uv a great undertakin’, Vince! A major part!”

Disturbed, uncomfortable, his mind stretching to accommodate concepts far bigger than any he’d yet had to deal with in his life, Vince boggled a little over the evidence of ‘true peace and control’ below them. What, in truth, were the politics of this place to him? Yells and screams from down below told tales of cut flesh and smashed bone. Vince winced. The could-be Howard in his gloomy hall came back to him… whatever this place was, somehow it was directly related to he and to Howard. they had been brought here, separated, and if his own trials were anything to go by, used and abused to go get Treasure the residents could not… or should not. The implications of it all finally began to coalesce in Vince’s mind (the various aspects of his mind running about like headless chickens, the Brain Cell itself almost in spasms of the revelatory power). What if his coming here, his collecting this Treasure- what if it was, in fact, the worst option? The Not-Howard had spoken of the ‘end of things’, so had these flying bastards he’d been hanging with... the end of everything? And he was going to be partly responsible for that?

Vince’s skin paled, but a flicker of his sun-bright glow licked across his eyes. Seeing this, Reticulo, even in his fervour, took a flying ‘step’ back.

Desperate alternatives had been shown to Vince, and through it all, this horrible feeling of imbalance, of not-being-right. And now the forces of- well, let’s not beat about the hat stand, here- of darkness were going to try to blot out their opposition…no! That wasn’t right at all! The Other Howard had been in Darkness, too, but he had not told Vince to smash, destroy, but to go, seek adventure, find Howard and- ok, and to end the world. But if that was the case… Vince’s Brain Cell sweated and groaned as fresh ideas caroused through its body… if that was the case, then- then this was his world to set right! To end or begin or whatever- this was-

Howard!

That yell sounded just like him!

Around Vince’s neck, the medallion twitched, moving for a split second down and right- pointing towards the ship below.

Noble thoughts on responsibility disappeared in a flash. Reticulo, gloating, was reaching for the medallion.
“Time t’play, Vince, time t’take y’role like a’ man!”
Instinctively, Vince’s hand closed around the medallion, holding it in place. Reticulo’s hands brushed against Vince’s and there as a fzzt of electrical discharge. The glow in Vince’s skin gathered strength, drawn from his awakening anger, becoming brighter and stronger. Vince rarely got really angry… this was going to be some son et luminere…

“Where’s Howard? You said that this would bring him to me!” Vince demanded, shaking the Treasure and glaring at Reticulo.
“Oh, darlin’, d’ you want ‘im so much?” Reticulo’s eyes slitted and his smile became one of lazy boredom. “I ‘ad ‘oped tha’ y’d be a good lad ‘n’ stand wiv th’ proper side. Buh’ a’ c’n see that’ y’got a case of th’ ‘eart; a right bad one, ‘an it lives onna ovver side!” Reticulo’s lip suddenly snarled, feral and enraged.
“You’d better g’find ‘im, then, hadn’t ya? Bye-se-bye!” Reticulo’s fist, drawn back, smashed forward into Vince’s shoulder, while his other hand grabbed for the Treasure. The shock of the blow, however, sent Vince spinning away before Reticulo could grab the Treasure from him, and, stunned, Vince fell.

The rushing wind rose up to meet him, and all he could think of, beyond the suddenly expelled breath he no longer had and the surprise of the assault, was how weird it would be to die in a fairy-tale land on some daft quest, and how sorry he was he hadn’t been of more help to Howard. lazily tumbling, Vince’s body upended, the Treasure flapping against his chest, his legs dangling overhead as he fell, a broken toy, towards the sea below-
Oh, well, this is it…
-“URK!” the sudden cessation of falling, the yanking tug on his right ankle almost had his entire leg pulled out of its socket, but all at once, Vince was no longer falling. He stared upwards, woozily.
“Dav?” Davood gave him a quick, worried grin, then concentrated on hauling him upwards again, towards the nearest available landing spot. The combined, sudden weight and the stopping force required to counter the powerful momentum Vince’s body had left Davood dangerously wobbly and out of control. The sooner they landed, the better. As it was, there was one place very nearby-
and so, a couple of days after he had been lifted from the roof of the Nabootique in a gale, Vince was gently, tenderly deposited back onto it, headfirst, to lie, winded and adrenaline-shaky on its tiles once more.

Exhausted, Davood landed beside him, and touched his cheek.
“You ok?”
Vince gazed up into blue eyes, confused. “Mum?”
Davood managed a shaky laugh. “Not quite.”
“Ah, Davood, well done, mate.”
Both turned to face the direction of the sound. Landing on the roof was Reticulo, followed by a frowning Rix, a troubled-looking Tolls and a gibbering Ruberry. The last two had presumably been sent off to be cannon fodder. Bit on the roof, all was relatively quiet, an unheeded eye of the storm. The battle now raged on both sides of the floating shop as another ship- similarly crewed with bounteous females- had hiven into view on the other side to the first ship and had engaged with the vampire hordes. Shot flew around and overhead, yells and screams with them, but on the roof itself, there was an eerie calm.
Vince gulped.
“In m’...haste I neglected t’think a’could… miss!” Reticulo chuckled expansively to his two most loyal subjects. They sniggered politely in response. “Buh Davood ‘as proved th’ worth a’ his name ‘n’ brought it t’me, safe.”
Davood licked nervous, dry lips, and then stood. “S-sir- I- I cannot let you do this.”
“Wha?” Reticulo honestly looked as if he hadn’t understood. Frowns started to manifest on Rix and Toll’s faces.
“It’s... not- right,” Davood managed to get out. He was obviously scared, and the words came with all the ease of an Englishman aboard trying to speak comprehensible French, but they came, nonetheless, and behind them Vince could make out an awakening sense of confused uncertainty. Silently, still unable as yet to speak, he cheered on the brave, lone vampire, squaring up to his- frankly bat-shit-mad- boss.
Sure enough, Reticulo’s eyes flashed, the uncomprehending fury of the fanatic rising in his face.

“You… dare ...t’question… th’most…holy …’an righteous struggle …a’th’Flyin’ Nations?” he asked Davood in a dangerously soft voice.
“I-I think it m-might have got… confused, somewhere.” Davood managed.
“Confused?” Reticulo repeated, again terribly, awfully softly.
Then with a roar he was on to Davood and Vince, one hand clamped around each neck, lifting them from the roof, shaking them like rag dolls.
“WE ARE THE CHOSEN PEOPLE T’RULE THIS WORLD N’ SAVE IT FROM IS’SELF! IT IS MY DESTINY!” with a shriek of rage, Reticulo threw Davood over his shoulder, like a toy no longer required. Vince saw him land with a horrible crunch, then get picked up, again by the throat, by Tolls, who stared into Davood’s unconscious face with- not the same incandescent rage as Reticulo and Rix was showing, but an angry confusion. Ruberry bounced excitedly between them all.
“Destiny! Destiny! Destiny! Destiny! Destiny! Destiny!!”
Rix did not bother to discipline him, but came to stand by Reticulo, now spitting rage into Vince’s face- semi-coherent words about truth and justice and the vampire way, as far as Vince could make out.
Through a semi-occluded windpipe, clawing at Reticulo’s vice-like grin, he just managed to croak out, “so’s all jus’ your wet dream a’ power, Ret- kings n’ em’prors, ‘n’ not inna goh’ way!”
Reticulo favoured Vince with a final, truly terrible glare, then spat “ENOUGH!”, dropping him in a heap at his feet, Rix snatching the Treasure from his neck as he fell.
Reticulo stared triumphantly down at Vince- the pride of the bully in full glory.
“Now piss off ‘n’ die like tha’ pathetic lump ‘a’ shite y’always mooning af’ter!”
“How-ard?” Vince rasped, rubbing his abused neck, where a circlet of purple bruising was already starting to make an angry appearance on his pale skin.
“How-ward,” Reticulo whined, enjoying his victory. “Soon very dead if no’ a’ready. I’ll get th’ last bit a’th’Treasure from ‘is cold, dead body, ‘n’ then nufin’, but nufin’ stands in m’way!”

Howard, dead? No- no- No! Vince would have known if he was already- he’d have felt it, the broken-ness, the loss: with a sudden desperate clarity, he knew that it would not go unremarked in his soul, no matter how far distant they were to each other. But he couldn’t let this utter ball-bagging bastard get away with this- he couldn’t let him get to Howard. In this battle- under vampire attack, what would Howard be doing? Hiding safely; hopefully well out of the way. He needed Vince to protect him, save him- it was how things worked out. Vince’s Brain Cell was right; he might be the hero, but Howard was the heart, and no one can live without their heart.
With a ragged shout of nothing-specific-but-very-very-pissed-off-in-general, Vince boiled upwards from the feet of the vampires, reaching for the Treasure, now being ceremoniously presented to Reticulo by Rix; as Reticulo bowed his head to have it dropped over, Vince grabbed the chain, and the surprise of his attack made Rix’s hands flex open, allowing Vince to take possession of it once more.
Having got it back, Vince suddenly realised that he had in his hand the very thing two- now angry- and powerful supernatural beings stood right in front of him wanted most in the world. He gulped.

Time slowed to treacle-syrup slow-mo as Vince saw their arms rise up to pummel him once and for all, when

- a pale hand appeared on Rix’s dark shoulder, followed by another drawing a knife right across his throat.
-reflexively, Vince’s arm, under the control of his more switched-on Instincts, swung upwards, the heavy medallion catching Reticulo right under the chin, gouging a heavy groove of flesh as it went past, spurting blood.

The two big, bad vampires went down; Rix choking on his way to death, drowning internally on his life’s blood. Reticulo went down like a sack of potatoes- stunned unconscious, possibly never to awake again if he bled out while insensate.
-and time sped up to normal speed once more. Vince stared- behind Rix stood a swaying Davood, whose hand had dealt the blow. Behind him Tolls could be seen, crumpled onto the roof tiles, a large purple bruise over his eye attesting where Davood’s well-aimed head-butt had caught him out. However, as Davood made eye contact with Vince, Vince saw he clutched at his won throat- dark fluid seeping between his fingers.
“G-go, save usss allll...” Davood’s last words finished on a sigh as his ravaged body finally gave up the ghost and he fell into death.

Vince swung around, alone on the roof, eyes wide with horror. It was the first time he’d ever seen such fatal violence so up close and personal- and been a part of it himself- out of the corner of his eye, he couldn’t help but see the bright red liquid congealing on the sharper edge of the Treasure where his blow had done for Reticulo. Never mind that the bastard was a stark raving mad megalomaniac who’d have done for Vince first, Vince had still been a party to death and destruction, and it sickened him to his stomach.
His wild eye cast about the battle around and below- until it saw something that made him stop, gasp, and fill with a new hope, the golden sunshine glow on his skin flare into life once more- its fire recently all but banked by the violence on the roof.

On the prow of the nearest ship- the first one Vince had seen while flying in- stood a tall, dark figure in piratical garb. It stood out as it was the only male figure on the ship. Behind him, a fancily-dressed female who had to be the Captain in a hat that size- held off vampire marauders, while the male pirate dispatched two more into the sea with broad strokes of his cutlass.

Howard??!

Vince gaped. Was this Howard Moon, most-time physical coward, neurotic and occasionally exasperating twat? This sword-swinging, heroic figure- hung about with- a golden medallion! Without seeing details, Vince knew at once what all that was about. It had to be the other half of this Treasure thing- the thing that would send them home- and hopefully save this world from destroying itself.
A crack of thunder overhead made Vince twitch and look upwards- only to be greeted with the most extraordinary sight. The warring clouds and blue sky drifted apart, as if chastened. Into view- so massive their dimensions defined description, and yet all at once the size and shape of ordinary men, walking easily across the sky towards each other- came the double-image of Howard and himself. Except it wasn’t- that was Not-Howard- the ‘Lord’ he had visited and bested. The other- Vince’s Brain Cell was having conniptions over the day’s events, but it threw up both hands in despair and tried the first thing that occurred to it- the other had to be the Not-Vince Howard’s part of the Treasure had come from. It made sense- opposites and balances; if he’d met a Not-Howard then that other one had to be the Not-Vince; but one lovelier, more ethereal than Vince was; one who glowed internally with light, even as the Lord glowered with impressive darkness.
They strode across the sky, from a dark bank of heavy cloud cover and from the white, fluttering whips of a perfect summer day, respectively. They strode, impossibly huge and also intimately normal-sized, but they stopped, facing each other just a few yards apart. Vince read a world of pain and longing in their eyes, and felt his heart thump in his throat. They two beings overhead reached out their arms- but suddenly the short distance between them became all at once utterly vast, while remaining just a few yards- their fingertips straining across no distance and all distance to touch, to connect.
Vince frowned. It suddenly seemed very, very important that these two join, be as one, but why couldn’t they? What was stopping them?
At that moment, both figures turned their heads and stared right at Vince, small, vulnerable, on the roof.
“Finish it, Vince,” the Lord said, his voice deep, calm, but tightly strung with meaning.
“End all things,” the Not-Vince added, “end all things that were- start the things that can be.”

Vince’s jaw dropped open. His head snapped around to stare at the ship below. Filling his lungs, Vince Noir gave the greatest bellow of his life to date- something totally untrendy, utterly uncool, completely rabid, and hugely excited.
“HOWARD!!!!!!!!!!!!!”

On the ship, Howard had blanked.
The medallion’s insistent course direction had had them scrabbling to sail and off in a jiffy, a strong wind prevailing from the Island of Wrong. They had sailed for most of a day at speeds unprecedented- the passing draft created by their passage flapping scarves and loose hair as it went. The crew had even had to steady themselves as they walked the deck, feeling a mild pressure against their bodies if they tried to do so. Howard had not noticed, in all truth. His eye had glued to the horizon, his mind exploding with possibilities and revelations.
When the Nabootique had come into view, his heart had leaped that perhaps Vince was somehow there again, and they’d meet soon. But a search of the shop had drawn a blank. Then the black-clad, flying men had come with a roll of heavy cloud cover, and the pirates had been forced to retreat from the shop in a painful, body-strewn retrenching, and stand their ground on ship.
Maybe it had been the ghostly pirate in Howard’s trousers, but after the disappointment of not finding Vince, he had not noticed, or, indeed, cared much when his hand had gone to his sword, drawn it, and started to lay smack-down on the flying swine that were picking off members of his crew… his crew? What the hell; if Vince was gone, Howard could well be stuck here forever, so best get on with it, eh? Detached from the skilled death his sword was dealing out, Howard retreated into his mind and shut the door behind himself. What would emerge after the battle- each death of which slashed another laceration across his already truncating heart- was open to debate, but ‘old’ Howard had seen too much in a short space of time, done too much, learned too much to ever truly be himself again.
A single tear trickled down his cheek, and as he skewered a surprised-looking flying man- little more than a boy, actually- he murmured “I’m sorry.” He watched the child plummet into the sea, and his heart hardened a few notches more…
“Wake up, Howard! Y’back!” the Captain’s yell brought him out of it in time to duck down, sword upraised. The swooping flying man tried to rear upwards, but his momentum was too great- he flew along the edge of the blade, slicing open his chest as he went. Clutching the fatal wound, he spiralled into the sea, spitting blood, his yell of surprise almost drowned by Howard’s own scream.
Shaking himself, Howard planted his feet and set-to. Don’t think, just act.

When he heard that extraordinary yell, and in a voice he had decided by now he’d never hear again, he stumbled, his sword arm momentarily losing control- or perhaps, more accurately, losing [possession for a moment. As a result, a lucky swipe by a passing flying blade caught him on the upper arm, making a shallow cut from shoulder to elbow. He yelled, and thrashed his sword up and out in response- taking out the man’s eye. It squealed and spun away. Head desperately flicking about, Howard caught sight of Vince- Vince! Standing on the roof of the Nabootique- dressed in the clothes of the enemy. There was a slight stomach-dropping reaction to seeing this, but Vince was grinning, and shining, as if illuminated from within by pure joy- and the glow brightened still further as Vince saw Howard and realised Howard saw him.
He really is the Sunne! flashed in Howard’s mind briefly. Of course Vince wasn’t with this flying pestilence- he’d been captured by them- whisked away from Howard on the roof- golly, was it just a few days ago?- and press-ganged into their ranks- hang on, what was he holding? A golden… holy-! Howard’s mind flip-flopped with mind-stunning revelation. It was the other half! His other half… his… Treasure… Vince was gesticulating upwards. Howard spared a glance- then double-took as he saw the Sunne and another character who looked just like him up there, doubled impossibly huge and normal-sized at the same time, straining to reach each other. These two were saying something to Vince, who dropped the medallion he was waving in one hand over his neck, and who then was excitedly yelling to Howard- something about joining the Treasure up into one piece again? Ending the world? Restarting the big bang- what?!

A figure loomed behind Vince, who was still yelling, unheeding. Howard yelled back, his voice lifted in alarm- but Vince did not hear him over the roar of the cannons are they cleared a swath of the flying men fro the sky…

Vince stamped his foot in frustration as the cannons roared and a welter of smoke obscured Howard momentarily from view. This was important, dammit! He had to get Howard understanding, had to get him up here!
So engaged was he in this that he didn’t see the figure creeping up behind him. As he felt the blade at his throat, Vince froze, and suddenly it hit him- who had stabbed Davood?

“Kill m’boys, would ya? End m’fam’ly?!” the voice rose to a shriek. Vince ducked as the knife was removed for a swing, and as he turned around he was faced with the grief-stricken, hysterically insane face of Ruberry. He must have been hiding behind the chimney stack, scared and confused after he had dealt Davood a killing blow for assaulting his beloved Tolls. Tolls still lay very still, and Vince had a split second to see that his brow over his eye looked kind of… ‘caved in’. not just an incapacitating head butt, then- but a deathly blow.
“Ruberry…”
The only reply was an inarticulate shriek, as the podgier vampire ran at Vince, swinging the dagger wide. The heavy handle caught Vince’s forehead and he crumpled- right over the edge of the roof.
Unable to stop his charge, Ruberry tripped, his body curling over his hands, to land, impaled, on his own dagger. He groaned, and reaching bloodied hands forwards, he dragged his dying self over to Tolls, laid an arm across his chest, and burying his face in the now-cold Toll’s neck, Ruberry finally found peace.

Howard watched, horrified, as Vince dropped like a stone, plummeting out of control, an angel of light falling from the heavens, to land SMACK- hard and painfully- on the water below. His body paused a moment, spread-eagled on the sea, then started to slide gently under.