A Gomorra Christmas Tale

[Doomdog]

At the start of December, I ran a Servitor Series event with a twist. I decided I wanted to run a story event based on the PAX Fate of Mario Crane event, as it sounded like a fun format. Whatever I was going to end up writing would be ‘unofficial’, so I thought given the time of year I’d make the story be a Christmas Special, and made the bold/foolish step of letting the event winner and runner up decide the protagonist and antagonist. Other cards were chosen to feature throughout the event. If you’re brave enough to tackle my attempts at writing fiction, then read on…

A Doomtown Christmas Special

Twas the night before Christmas, and nowhere in town, was there trace of the circus, not even a clown…

This left Kevin Wainwright feeling rather sad and lonely. After the townsfolk had rejected the opportunity to be part of Ivor Hawley’s greatest show, the ensuing chaos had seen many of Kevin’s friends gunned down in anger by the ungrateful denizens of Gomorra, his beloved master the greatest casualty of them all. Those who survived the carnage had fled, taking with them what possessions they could before angry mobs burned the circus tents and outbuildings to the ground. Kevin knew he could find some of them easily enough, but he also knew that he’d get a better reaction to his jokes from a wall than from The Brute, while Avie Cline was mean and would probably just torment him with snakes for her own amusement.

He’d decided to stay in Gomorra, certain that before too long The Fourth Ring would send someone else to continue the work Ivor’s circus had started. Kevin didn’t know much of their plans, but he knew this town was important to the shadowy cabal. He’d sent them word of recent events via Steele Archer, but the card sharp huckster was yet to bring a reply. Until then, he waited, lying low in the burned-out remains of the Walters Creek Distillery on the edge of town. Gomorra was home to enough freaks and oddities that after ditching his distinctive outfit modelled after Ivor, he could move around without much trouble, and his diminutive stature meant he could easily slip into hiding places when necessary. Sheriff Grothe leaving town and the Sloane Gang forcing the remaining deputies underground certainly helped too. “Serves them right for ruining everything”, he muttered to himself.

Glancing around his lair, he noticed a brightly-wrapped box, topped with a purple ribbon. Kevin had hurriedly stuffed it into his bag when fleeing the blazing big top, remembering Ivor had said it was something important for a later date. Tied to the ribbon was a tag, with ‘To Mayor Whateley’ written in swirling script.
“Well”, thought Kevin, “with it being Christmas, now would be a perfect time to deliver this gift!”
He picked up the present and began waddling in the direction of the old Whateley Estate.

The Caretaker was also feeling quite sad and lonely. He knew that his task was to guard the family’s house until they returned, but they hadn’t told him how long they would be away for and there wasn’t very much for him to do in the meantime. It would be a few more weeks yet before he grew enough to reach the next shelf of books in the library, and he’d read all of the ones he could reach at least twice each. There were never any visitors, so he had no-one to discuss what he’d read with, or to learn more about the world beyond the house and its library. There were many sights, sounds and smells he’d experienced that he couldn’t identify, but until Nicodemus returned all he could do was toddle around the rooms, keeping the house in good shape while waiting for something to happen.

He was startled by a series of sharp knocks, coming from the front door. Could this be the family returning? A visitor of any kind would be welcome, but surely it must be someone from out of town as all the locals avoided approaching the house for some reason. Full of excitement he reached up to the claw-shaped handle and opened the door to reveal a brightly-wrapped box with a purple bow on top sitting on the steps of the veranda, and the sight of a strange little man literally disappearing as he scurried away down the driveway and through the gate.
“How odd”, thought The Caretaker, “this looks like a gift. I’ve never had a gift before. I wonder who that man was? Maybe if I open the box I’ll find out.”

He dragged the present into the library, and tore off the wrapping. Beneath the paper was a wooden box. Its sides were carved with bizarre scenes depicting winged demons with leering, grotesque faces cavorting above a burning town and stabbing at fleeing people with pitchforks. On one side of the box, a demon’s pointed tail projected from the box and was fashioned into a handle that could be turned. There was no note explaining anything, and the lid of the box was locked. There seemed to be only one thing to do - turn the handle. As The Caretaker turned the handle he could feel something in the box start to move, and a discordant tinkling tune began to play. Suddenly the lid of the box sprung open, and a figure leapt out from within amidst a cloud of foul-smelling purple smoke. The Caretaker, stunned and blinded, tried to make out what it was, but he was feeling very sleepy all of a sudden. The last thing he heard as he collapsed to the floor and drifted away was a hideous, cackling laughter…

To be continued…

[Doomdog]

The cackling echoed inside The Caretaker’s head as, coughing, he slowly regained consciousness. He could sense something bouncing around him as he lay on the floor. As his vision cleared, its features came into view. No more than a foot tall, it seemed to be a wicked little doll, however the thing’s lower half consisted only of a spring. Above a bright red jacket was a slightly oversized head with pointed chin, cheshire-cat grin, luxurious moustache, long, thin nose and gleaming eyes, crowned with a smart black top hat. It came to a halt, noticing he had woken, and as he gazed at it in wonder, it spoke.
“Well, who do we have here? I must say you’re not who I was expecting, but you seem to be the only person here and I can tell you’ve got Whateley blood in you, so I suppose you’ll do. Now, I apologise for my overwhelming entrance, but I’m in need of a little friend to help me out as it seems not all… went to plan”.

“A friend?” I’ve never been anyone’s friend before. What do friends do?” asked The Caretaker.

“Excellent!” replied the figure. “Well, friends help each other out, and as it is I’ve got quite a problem that needs solving and you’re just the friend I need to deal with it. You can call me… Jack,” it said with a grin, “you know, like Jack-in-the-box!”

“So what do we need to do, Jack?”

Jack hopped over to a window and gestured outside with his little wooden arm. “You see the town out there? I’m willing to bet the folk who live there have never done anything to help you, and they’ve certainly not done anything to win my favour. I had a fantastic show planned for them, the likes of which you’ve never dreamt of, but they ruined it all! So, now’s time for some payback…”

♪Hark the herald angels sing…♪ The sound of many young voices singing came drifting through the window, cutting off Jack mid-sentence.

“What is that righteous racket? Extinguishing that sickening Christmas Cheer that’s infesting people’s hearts would be a good place to start. Now then, is that hunting rifle up on the wall there loaded?”

Benjamin Washington was having a productive day. After convincing Willa Mae that he’d be the best person to take charge of the donations tray for this year’s Orphanage Christmas Carol singing, he was on the way to a record haul. Okay, so not everything he’d collected had been knowingly donated, but he figured some folks could afford to give a little more than they had. Besides, the choir was in fine voice and provided a good distraction, he couldn’t help himself. Just as he was eyeing up a particularly valuable-looking pocket watch dangling from the pocket of Androcles Brocklehurst, the sound of a gunshot rang out and the sung verse descended into a chorus of screams. He quickly looked around to see Willa Mae standing in shock, her conductors’ baton broken clean in two by the bullet. Choir and bystanders alike ran for cover as more shots whizzed through the air around them.

Up at the Whateley Estate, Jack cackled with glee. The boy’s first shot, all lined up, was perfect. After he moved, less so. It didn’t look like he actually hit anyone. Not surprising, really, he wasn’t big enough to handle the rifle. Still, people were panicking, which was definitely a start. However, it would almost certainly be easier to cause more mayhem if they headed out in the streets.

To be continued…

[Doomdog]

As the townsfolk fled screaming, their cries were silenced by the incongruous duet of jingling bells and the wailing of a ghost rock furnace. Lurching into view from a side street came a concerned-looking Santa Claus riding upon a present-laden, reindeerless sleigh.

“Ho, ho, ho… erm… What’s going on here?” Santa addressed the panicking crowd in general, his voice slightly muffled by his beard, as he began rummaging around near his feet for something.

“Santa Claus! You gotta do somethin’!” Exclaimed Drew, his Jackalope Gang comrades Jack and Tyler in tow. “It ain’t no goblin or nuthin’, someone was shootin’ at us!”

Irving Patterson was feeling quite overwhelmed. He didn’t mind the Santa Claus gig. Of all the jobs that Miss Lula asked him to do, this one wasn’t so bad. In fact, he hadn’t quite believed her when she’d suggested the idea, but he supposed it made some kind of sense. Giving away little gifts at Christmas would improve the company’s public image. He’d had to argue against dressing up some of the cattle themselves as reindeer. Not only would that have looked ridiculous, it would have been downright dangerous. Had she actually ever been to the stockyards and seen the things first-hand? Probably not, after all, that was one of his many jobs and there was too much dirt and physical labour involved for it to be something she’d have any interest in. It didn’t take long for Eustace True to convert a steam wagon to look like a sleigh, so in the end they didn’t need them, thank God. He wasn’t sure what to do in this situation though. Santa Claus didn’t carry a weapon, and he couldn’t find a coachgun stashed away anywhere. Maybe he didn’t need to do anything; the shooting seemed to have stopped and no-one appeared to be injured.

Irving summoned up as much confidence as he could muster and beamed a wide smile. “Don’t worry boys, nobody would dare shoot at Santa Claus. Everything will be fine now that I’m here. Here, calm down and have some candy.”

The orphans took the offered sweets, but didn’t stick around, following the other retreating townsfolk back indoors. Irving was suddenly left alone in the street. Well, not quite alone. He could see another young boy slowly, nervously, making his way down the street, struggling to carry a box. “Time to help”, thought Irving, putting the sleigh into gear and driving towards the lone child. “Gotta get this kid to safety then call Shane and Graves.”

The Caretaker entered the street cautiously. He’d never been outside the grounds of the Whateley Estate before, and wasn’t quite sure what to expect. He also wasn’t quite sure why, but he felt compelled to do whatever this ‘Jack’ creature requested. Right now, that was to bring Jack and his box into town, where no doubt he’d instigate more mischief. He clearly had a grudge against Gomorra. The Caretaker still wasn’t sure why, and there was nobody to ask as they’d all run away after he fired the gun. That was curious. While he didn’t agree with leaving the house, he might at least learn more about people and Gomorra while he was out here. He looked down the street. A large, lumbering contraption was making its way towards him, making the most awful noises. He wasn’t sure what to do. “Wait for it to get here”, hissed Jack, peeping out from his box. “Then I’ll give them a surprise!”

To be continued…

[Doomdog]

Irving guided the steam sleigh carefully towards the child. The boy seemed very attached to the large box, but there was no way he’d be able to lift it into the sleigh himself. As Irving pulled to a stop with a jingling of bells, he jumped down to help. First he lifted the boy up into the front seat, but as he picked up the box the lid burst open and whatever was inside flew up and hit him on the chin. Stunned, Irving stumbled back and collided with the sleigh, his head bouncing off the pipework with a loud ‘thunk’, knocking him unconscious and causing several of the stacked gifts to tumble from the back of the sleigh out into the street. With his most gleeful cackle yet, Jack sprang up to the top of the remaining presents. “The people of this town rejected my gifts! They don’t deserve to have any of these!”, shouted Jack, as flames appeared from nowhere to begin eating away at the gaudily-wrapped gifts, blackening ribbons and sending smoke billowing skywards.

After he had completed his errand, Kevin had stayed in town for a while. He’d had a meeting planned with Steele Archer at the Cliff’s #4 Saloon. He was sure that one day soon, the huckster would bring him some good news. Kevin liked it in Cliff’s. It was one of the newer establishments in town, springing up during the rebuilding that happened following Ivor’s defeat, and as such the proprietor and the regulars weren’t familiar with Kevin’s identity and the role he had played as part of the circus that had brought such chaos to the streets of Gomorra. As Kevin emptied his glass for the fifth time, he cursed Archer for his lateness. He’d drunk far more than he was used to, and was definitely feeling the effects of the alcohol on his diminutive frame, but he’d felt he had to keep drinking to fit in with the crowd. He was rocked back to his senses by the sounds of a commotion outside. As he lurched from his bar stool towards the window to get a better look alongside the other patrons drawn to the scene, a very familiar laugh began echoing through his ears.
“Ivor? Is he back?” Kevin staggered out through the doors. As people ran past him, screaming, his attention was drawn to the strange-looking steam wagon aflame in the middle of the street. As his vision settled, his heart filled with joy at the sight of the tiny but unmistakable form of his former master bouncing around above it, but that soon turned to dismay when he saw the small figure who appeared to be acting as the wooden ringmaster’s assistant. “But… that should be me!”

The feeling of betrayal quickly gave way to anger. Kevin knew that he had to do away with this interloper and retake his place at Ivor’s side. He looked around for a weapon. Lying on the ground nearby, protruding from torn wrapping paper amid a pile of gifts, was a miniature gatling gun. Kevin grasped its barrel, pulling it free from the debris. It seemed to be part of a larger contraption, some kind of harness with various weapons attached. As Kevin buckled himself into the device, a tall man with a shock of wild white hair dashed past him and began dragging an unconscious Santa Claus away from the fire. As they passed Kevin again, the man spoke “Well now, it’s good of y’all to do something about this, but please won’t you be careful with that Decimator Array. I wouldn’t want any bystanders getting hurt”.

Gripping the harness controls, Kevin turned towards the sleigh. He wasn’t sure how this Decimator Array thing worked, but there seemed to be some kind of trigger mechanism on the handles. He tried to take aim, but his vision was blurring and the device was heavy and unwieldy. “Close enough”, he thought, as he glared with envy at the new assistant and pulled the trigger.

The Caretaker was starting to panic. He didn’t like the fire, and there were so many people running around he couldn’t tell what was going on. He climbed across to where Jack was bouncing and cackling in triumph at the chaos he’d created. “Come on Jack, we should go somewhere else. It’s not safe here” he called, raising his voice to compete with a strange whirring noise that had started. As if to illustrate his point, the air around them was suddenly torn as a hail of bullets began whizzing through the smoke, shredding the presents around them.

He was being shot at. What did people do when they were shot at? The Caretaker’s thoughts flashed back to the carol singers and he turned and scrambled down from the sleigh, knocking boxes aside as he did so before running as quickly as he could back towards home. Jack’s laughter turned to an agonising howl as the tower of presents he had been surveying the scene from collapsed and he tumbled down towards the flames. His spring caught in some twisted sleigh bells and he couldn’t escape as his wooden body caught fire, emitting foul green smoke as he burned away to ash.

Watching all this happen, Kevin’s mind suddenly cleared and he realised he had to get away from this scene before someone who recognised him showed up. He was a little confused about what had just happened, but he could deal with that later. He unbuckled the harness and let the Decimator Array fall to the floor, and then ran to the nearest alleyway. He had to get somewhere safe…

Steele Archer was having a great day. The tables at the Killer Bunnies Casino had been treating him well and he sat behind an impressively large pile of chips waiting for the dealer to begin the next round. He became aware of someone standing beside him, and he looked round to see a confused and slightly dishevelled looking Kevin Wainwright. “Ah, Mr. Wainwright. Our meeting… I’m terribly sorry I’m running late, I’ve been on quite the winning roll, as you can see. Good news, however - I do have a message from your associates…”