Literature
Enter The Berryverse - Part 4: Back to the Factory
A multiverse adventure by Xochitomat Based on characters from Roald Dahl’s “Charlie and The Chocolate Factory.” “Fucia! Fucia!” a voice called out. The young woman looked around in the darkness. “Who’s that?” She frantically cried. “It’s Violet,” the voice came, “now please, you’ve got to stop.” “Stop what?” Fucia asked, even more confused. “Stop *screaming*.” Fucia clasped a hand over her own mouth. She didn’t even realize it had been open, let alone filling the enclosed space with an ear-splitting shriek. As she brought it to a halt, a light flicked on, illuminating four blue faces which stared at her with a mixture of concern and annoyance. It took Fucia a moment to remember where she was - in a giant glass box, hurtling through space and time, accompanied by four half-fruit, half-woman super-assassins on their way to stop an evil witch. Just that. Nothing major. She clutched her stomach. “Oh, man, I think I’m gonna be -“ “Dont you *dare* think of hurling! Not on my docs!” Said the one with the brow piercing, Jasmine. The tallest one, whose name was Violet but Fucia recalled went by the designation V-971, shot Jas a disapproving look. “What?” The goth said, “they don’t make these in my universe anymore!” Thankfully, Fucia regained her composure before any shoes in question could be potentially ruined. She put a hand against the cool, vibrating glass next to her. Behind it, she could see what looked like dozens of glowing blue dots immersed in clouds of mist - crackling bits of energy which seemed to fizzle in and out of sight before she had the time to focus on any of them. “W-whats out there?” Fucia slurred, still a little nauseous. “We’re still traveling through the multiverse,” said the high-collared blonde, who Fucia knew as V-005, “don’t look.” The plump girl in a purple jumpsuit who stood behind her nodded in agreement - Violet C. Beauregarde, Fucia remembered - although she went by Cece. Nevetheless, with her face pressed against the glass, Fucia couldn’t help but peer into the swirling clouds that whizzed past them. As she stared she noticed at times they gave way to images - like scenes from a dream, the same dream played over and over again - or perhaps, more appropriately, a nightmare: women sinking their teeth into a piece of gum , or pie, or a biscuit as a wave of purple spread across their face - women with their arms stretched out as they began to inflate uncontrollably - bloated, round spheres of women surrounded by miniature minions as they were tipped over and rolled off to parts unknown - everywhere in the clouds that Fucia looked, dozens and dozens of versions of the same scene played out. She gasped in fright, stepping back from the window. “Theres so may of them…are all of them…real?” “As real as you and me,” Cece confirmed. Fucia shuddered. “Told you not to look…” 005 muttered. “Most of them will be fine. A little blue in the face afterwards, maybe, but they’re Violets. And that makes them stubborn. Which means, they persevere.” 971 added assuredly. The elevator rocked and rattled tumultuously. Fucia grabbed fast to one of the handles hanging from the ceiling. The clouds around them began to dissapate, revealing a clear, sunny sky and a sprawling, brush-choked town below. “Welcome home, newbie,” Cece chided. Fucia realized the town below was indeed her own. There was her university, the coffee shop on campus where she had found her ticket - her home, where her parents even now likely waited anxiously by the tv for any news of their daughter…all of it seemed like a dream to her, a past life she could no less touch if there wasn’t a hundred thousand feet of air and a thick 4 inches of glass keeping her from doing so. And as the elevator sputtered on over the terrain, there was the Factory, with its great sacrificial smokestacks still billowing ominously - beckoning, it seemed, on behalf of Destiny for another victim. “Time to jump,” 971 declared, pressing a button on the elevators inside that caused a small shelved column to lower from the ceiling. “J-jump?” Fucia asked, “You mean, we aren’t going to land this thing? The factory’s right there!” “And the Berry Imps can sniff out the ultraviolet radiation us berriants give off in a haystack. Our ship here practically runs on the stuff. They’d shoot it down in seconds,” Jas said. “Correct,” agreed 971, “our mission requires a slightly more…stealthy approach.” She pulled a folded-up object from the telescoping shelf that dropped in front of them. “I’ve never parachuted from anything before,” Fucia cautioned. “Thats okay,” Cece said, “neither have we.” She and 971 unfurled the folded up objects in their hands, revealing a wide, baggy jumpsuit fashioned out of an odd latex-like material. “You saw these in action when you first met Cece and I,” 971 explained, throwing hers toward Fucia to catch before taking another. “We’ll explain how it works, but first, suit up!” 005 grabbed a suit gingerly and shook her head, “Oh Gob, I hate this…every time…” Fucia’s teammates quickly pulled theirs on over their tactical clothing. Fucia waved her arms awkardly under the draping material that her companions zipped her into. 971 pressed another button on the elevator and a hole opened in the center of the floor. “Jumping is easy!” Yelled 971 over the roar of the high altitude winds whipping past through the hole. “Just go feet first. When you’re ready, put your arms and legs out starfish style and pull the chord in your right glove. Try to get yourself to spin until you feel a bounce, then pull the chord on your left to release. Right, then left, got it??” “Huh?” Fucia shouted. Cece pencil-dove through the opening in the floor first. Fucia watched the girl spread her arms as she plummeted, her baggy oversuit flapping in the air, when all of a sudden with an audible *fwmmph*, the suit puffed around her like a giant airbag, completely enveloping her as the balloon-ified figure began to hurtle and spin faster towards the compromised glass dome below. “The air in the suit is three times lighter than helium. It will slow your descent enough for a safe landing. Its actually much , much safer than a parachute - plus its a shape most of us are used to!” 971 shouted as Jas slipped through the opening next. A second blue blimp soon joined the first, spinning wildly to catch up to its companion. 005 stepped to the plate reluctantly. “Can’t I just take my chances getting shot down in the elevator?” A look from her commander told her otherwise, and with an eyeroll the blonde slipped through the hole soundlessly, except for a faint, “Son of a Slugwo-“ *FWMMPH!* went the third air suit as it joined the others in the air. Fucia approached the hole with apprehension. “W-what if I get blown away?” 971 laughed. “Don’t worry. I’ll be right behind you. Besides, we blow up - not away. Remember - just roll yourself to gain momentum.” Fucia nodded, and with one last assuring look from 971, dropped out of the elevator towards the factory far below. Wind whipped noisily past her ears as she free fell, but not enough to obscure a decisive fourth *fwoomp!* coming from 971 above her. The round shadow blocking out the sun above her let her know that it was time. The stained glass of the factory roof loomed large below, so she spread her limbs starfish-style as 971 had instructed and tugged with her right glove as hard as she could. In an instant, she was encumbered by a vast expanse of blue rubber. Her arms and legs went stiff, held fast in place by the pressure between her inner suit and outer shell. She couldn’t even see unless she strained to look straight up, as the suit’s protective expanse surrounded her head on all sides. The lighter air inside slowed her plummet, and with a bit of a wiggle she was able to aim herself towards the gaping broken hole in the factory roof. The first three girls had already made it through, and she was soon to join them. She felt weightless, free, and actually somewhat comfortable, though she mused she probably looked far from any of the three. She pulled herself deeper into the inflated suit. Sky turned to ground and ground to sky over and over, spinning her faster and faster until…. *crrrash!” She felt herself barrel through the stained flass roof of the factory. The impact rocked her more than she expected - every muscle in her body tensed - including her left wrist. *Oh no* she thought. The first three girls had already landed and watched from below as the leaking air from Fucia’s suit started to hiss. “You pulled it too early!” Jas called from the ground. “Yeah, no shiiiiiii—“ Fucia cried as the jet of leaking air suddenly rocketed her sideways. The suit’s deflation allowed her to see just enough over the edge to realize she was headed straight into one of Waldo’s confectionary palm trees. *krshh!* It shook like a pole as the flying girl struck it, bending the trunk quite a ways back. It recoiled just as quickly, and with air still hissing from her, Fucia was slingshotted straight towards the ground as her companions looked on and winced. Like a giant blue Whoopi cushion, she bounced once, then twice, yelling all the way before landing straight into the shallow end of the champurrado lake with a decisive *Kersploosh!* “Fucia!” 005 cried, running to the bank. She watched the girl struggle above the surface like a giant human-shaped life raft, held afloat by the leftover air in her jumpsuit. But the last of it was leaking fast, and as she thrashed over the frothing cinnamon waves she quickly disappeared underneath them. “Shit!” 005 swore, preparing herself for another rescue. “Hold on,” said 971 from behind, having landed shortly after Fucia’s messy entrance, “Just give her a moment.” As if on cue, their companion shot up from the waist-deep waters, clearly displeased but otherwise unharmed. 971 clapped her hands. “Not bad for your first landing, Fucia!” She called out to her excitedly. “Ugh.” Fucia grunted as she trudged up to the shore clumsily. “I am never. Doing. That. Again!” The deflated suit had filled with *champurrado* while submerged, causing it to bulge and sag at her legs as she trodded closer to her companions. Jaz and Cece tried their best to stifle their laughter from the edge of the bank as they watched her amble along in the waterlogged suit. “Just pull the left chord all the way! The shell will fall right off. Your suit underneath is waterproof.” Called 005. “Wish I could say the same about my *hair*!” She complained, doing her best to wring the sticky-sweet water from her curly locks. She pulled on her left glove as instructed, doffing the outer latex with ease. Free to move, she continued her march back to shore. “No wait, stay where you are!” 971 called to her. “Why!” She called back frustratedly. “Because,” 971 pointed matter of factly towards the giant pipe shooting out of the lake. “That’s where we’re headed next!” Fucia sighed as her four companions waded into the lake next to her. “Of course it is.” 005 looked around. “No sign of any Imps since we landed. No boats either.” Fucia spun around and realized she was right. Aside from the occasional arrow stuck in the trunk of a tree as a marker, it was hard to think the nightmarish attack from The Rotten One’s minions had happened in this very spot - The same moment her life, - her reality - had completely been turned on its head. It was the last moment she had seen her Tia Josepha as well. “Then it’s like we guessed. They must have gone deeper into the factory,” Cece deduced, “005, any signal from that Imp you tagged last time we were here?” 005 looked at her watch in disappointment. “Nothing. They must have found the bug already and smashed it.” “Then its deeper into the fray we must go,” 971 declared. Instinctively, Fucia’s four companions reached into a pouch in their waist-belts, producing a small, light blue, saucer-shaped tablet. “You should have one of these in your belt too, Fucia,” 971 explained, “Its an Oxi-Seltzer. Put it under your tongue, and it will slowly dissolve, releasing breathable oxygen you can inhale underwater. Just don’t swallow it - unless you want really terrible gas for the next two hours.” “Shes speaking from experience,” Cece smirked, pulling a swim-cap and over her hair as she waded further into the water. The other girls followed suit, pulling swim caps and goggles from their belt-pouches. Fucia eyed them with annoyance, her own hair still damp and smelling of cinnamon. “What?” Teased Cece, “you’ve got one of these in your belt too, you know. Not our fault you decided to land in the lake.” “That’s enough now. This way, everyone!” 971 dove into the waves, resurfacing with a kick and a splash in a flawless olympic freestyle towards the large pipe in the distance. Fucia packed her sticky hair into her own swimcap, pulled on her goggles, and followed behind the group. They moved fast and nimbly over the water - it was a good thing her parents had made her do swim team every summer, Fucia thought. They soon reached the base of the pipe, treading *champurrado* in a circle around it. “Everyone got an Oxi-Seltzer?” 005 asked. Each of them nodded. One by one, Fucia watched each blue woman place the seltzer tab under their tongue and disappear under the chocolatey surface, only to rocket up the pipe moments later. She dove last, placing the tablet under her tongue and plunging under the surface, being careful not to accidentally swallow as she was jetted up the tube. It was a tight squeeze, and she could barely see the berry girl’s boots in front of her as they flowed through the winding chutes and tubes that zigzagged through the ceiling. Her lungs burned, begging to her to inhale when every underwater instinct told her not to. Strangely, she felt her cheeks fill with air and taking a breath in, found she could breathe as easily as inhaling a crisp mountain breeze. She blew out through her nose, sending a little trail of bubbles behind her as the current guided them up and down, left and right, looping back and forth and over again. *This isn’t so bad* Fucia thought as she let the stream carry her along, *I could probably stay under here for hou-* Suddenly, someone grabbed her by the arm and pulled her sideways. She broke the surface of the stream, spitting out her tablet as breathable air filled her lungs again. Gasping and sputtering, she looked up to find the rest of the group huddled next to her in what seemed to be a large metal air duct. “Hey!” She protested, “what gives?” Cece, who still had her by the arm, nodded behind her. Fucia turned around to see that the pipe through which they had just been swimming emptied out ahead into a room filled with a series of massive ceramic pots. As the bubbling liquid chocolate spilled into the oversized urns, wooden *molinillos* (seemingly carved from whole trees) lowered into them, spinning and frothing the contents with mechanized ferocity. “Oh, thanks,” Fucia remarked, realizing they had just saved her from getting liquefied. “I couldn’t see a thing in there. How’d you guys know it was a dead end?” “Same way we know where the vents lead from here,” answered 005, “universe to universe, the Factory layout is actually pretty standard.” “Yeah. Ol’ Candyman may be a genius, but he’s also a bit of a hack.” Cece commented, following the other girls as they began their slow crawl through the ducts. Fucia shrugged and followed them. It was no roomier than the chocolate pipe, but at least she could breathe freely, and the warm air flowing past them wicked the excess moisture from her face and hair. Just like the chute, she seemed to be following behind Cece’s glittering boots for ages when suddenly the girl in front of her abruptly stopped. “What now?” Fucia remarked impatiently. “Is there some sort of fan up ahead that’s gonna rip us to shreds?” “Shhhh!” Cece called back, “Listen!” Fucia strained her ears. Sure enough, faint, disembodied groaning could be heard a little ways ahead. “Move slowly,” 971 whispered from the front of the line, before proceeding to inch along as gently as possible. After a few minutes of creeping closer to the sound, it led them to a larger space, faced by a large vent underneath. The five of them managed to huddle around it, peering through the grated screen to the torturous scene below. Fucia recognized the room instantly, though she had never actually set foot in it - it was the room from the nightmarish film Violet Prime had showed her back at the P.I.E. - the room where she, and a million others like her, were supposed to have met their demise - The Inventing Room. This version, however, had been laid to waste by a gang of violent rabid blue creatures. Bottles and vials and papers littered the ground. Machines and beeping contraptions had been smashed to pieces and scattered among the rest of the debris. Others still were in the process of being actively torn apart or rummaged through by the snarling halfling fiends. Desk drawers and beakers were emptied, frantically - almost as if, Fucia thought, they were *looking* for something. And there, in the middle of all the chaos, battered, beaten, bleeding from fresh claw marks and strapped to a chair, was Mr. Waldo. *He’s alive* Fucia gasped with relief. Perhaps this meant there was still hope for her tia. Indeed, the candymaker was still breathing, if barely so. He slumped in the chair, groaning from the agony of his wounds. Standing over him, face and form obscured by an iridescent purple hooded robe, stood a fearsome, gnarled figure, brandishing a sharpened peppermint stick in one hand. With a voice that could pucker eardrums, the figure seethed at the broken inventor. “Lets try this again,” it warned, “where is it?” “W-who’s asking?” Waldo replied weakly, “It is my soul that calls my name?” “Enough riddles, old man!” The hooded creature spat, “you think you know pain? You haven’t even *scratched* the surface!” The Thing buried the sharpened peppermint stick into Waldos leg. He yelled out in agony. “This is only the beginning. All of your hare-brained inventions are here at my fingertips - at my mercy. How would you like to be reduced to a pile of protoplasmic goo? I can make it happen with a snap of my fingers. Or, you could talk. Where are you hiding it? Tell me! Where. Is. It??” The wily old coyote-eyed devil only cocked an eyebrow at the creature’s demands. “In the heart…” he muttered. “Yes?” The Being rasped inpatiently. “…or in the head?” Waldo finished, chuckling between broken ribs. The Creature howled in rage as plasmic blue energy erupted from its fingertips, shooting toward a random, tube-laden contraption by the wall and blowing it to smithereens. “This is bad, very bad…” 971 breathed, “she’s *never* gone after an inventor before…” Fucia’s heart skipped a beat. So this was her - The Rotten One. The witch that Prime and all of the other berriants were terrified of. The one who had invaded her world and attacked her tour with vile mutated vampiric freaks. She watched an emaciated, clawed blue hand shoot out of her robes and clasp around Waldo’s neck. “Now I,” the witch rasped, “have got a puzzle for *you*!” Her fingers closed slowly around the candymaker as he gasped for breath. “What do we do?” Fucia whispered. “I don’t see any of the missing VIEs,” mentioned 005, “or the taken tour members.” 971 nodded. “We need to keep moving and find them first. Better to do it now, while she’s distracted.” “What about Waldo?” Fucia asked. In the back of her mind she wondered: could the prize be hers if she rescued him from his current predicament? A wave of guilt washed across her heart just as quickly - she should be thinking about finding her tia, she told herself. Not the stupid prize. “If he’s anything like the candy-maker on my world, he can more than hold his own,” 971 replied, “we’ll come back for him.” As the group continued through the air duct, Fucia stole one last glance at the hunched figure on the other side of the grate. Suddenly, the hooded head turned, and a set of glowing blue eyes shrouded in hooded shadow seemingly locked with hers. Fucia froze. The Rotten One turned back to torturing Waldo and Fucia quickly scampered after her comrades with a chill down running her spine. When they had put what felt like a significant amount of distance between the inventing room and themselves, 971 had them stop. “No sign of our captives in the chocolate or inventing rooms,” she explained, “that leaves two other main rooms to check. If they’re not there, we may have to split up and fan out to the several other minor stations.” “Hey, I am *not* licking any wallpaper this time!” Jas protested, “my tongue was sore for weeks!” “Maybe if you’d listened to me,” 005 muttered. “Hopefully, it wont come to that, and we get some luck in the Egg Room, cause that’s where we’re heading next.” The other three berry girls went silent. “What’s so bad about the egg room? Does someone on my tour turn into an egg or something?” Secretly, she hoped it was that *fresa* , Veronica. “No, nothing like that. Just…watch your step in there, ok?” Said 005 “And if you see any animals…don’t disturb them.” Added Cece. “Whatever you say,” mused Fucia, “I’m not even part of this tour anymore, and it just keeps getting weirder…” Fucia just as soon realized she should have held her tongue, as they had reached a dead end in the air ducts. “Nowhere to go but down.” 971 exclaimed, clearly nervous but trying to remain optimistic. “Everybody, back up,” Jas ordered, crawling to the front of the line. She unwrapped a few candies from her belt, licking and sticking a handful them to the corners of the vent’s panel. “Uh, Jas?,” Cautioned 971, “We don’t know what’s down there. Maybe explosives aren’t the best o-“ Jas shot a dismissive hand up, her pointer finger signaling them to wait. The stuck candies began to radiate an intense heat, causing the metal of the vent to glow and melt. The punk-rocker gave the panel a swift kick and it bent away with ease, creating an exit just large enough for them to squeeze through. She turned around and flashed the group a satisfied smile, “Aren’t you glad someone brought warming candies, Chief?” “Sure am! Great thinking!” 971 applauded, “everyone, hand me the nerdz rope in your belts.” Their leader quickly strung everyone’s ropes together, securing one end to a sturdy part of the vent. Once secured, Jas moved to squeeze herself through the opening they had made. “Wait,” objected 005, “we could still discovered like this.” Jas rolled her eyes, “C’mon, don’t be such a scaredy-berry! That’s why we’re armed! We’ll get the drop on ‘em!” “I’m actually with Fives on this one,” Cece interjected, “we shouldn’t blow our cover until we absolutely have to.” She pulled another wrapper from her belt, tearing it open and squishing the light blue gelatin gummy between her fingers before eating it. To Fucia’s amazement, the girl in front of her vanished from view. “Where the heck did she just go?” She blurted out. “I’m still here, gum for brains,” retorted Cece’s disembodied voice, “just invisible.” “Oh. yeah. Of course. How silly of me,” Fucia sarcastically apologized, although she did remember 971 had mentioned some sort of disappearing gummies when they were gearing up. She soon found one in her belt, and joined the others in chewing it down. It tasted of lychee and the texture was soft - it reminded her, she thought, of some Japanese candies her roommate had bought once and graciously let her try. She thought this until she noticed her hands start to vanish in front of her. Soon, she could see nothing of herself - not her hands, limbs, clothes, or anything. “Try not to move too quickly or breathe too fast when we climb down the rope,” came 971’s voice from thin air. “The more calories you burn, the quicker the gummy wears off. Even talking makes it go faster.” “Can’t I just take another one if it runs out?” Fucia asked. “Take more than one a sitting and you won’t reappear. Ever.” “I thought Prime said her things didn’t have side effects,” she grumbled, rolling her eyes - although she knew no one could see it. “Climbing down now,” came Jas’ voice. “Same,” said 005. She was shortly followed by Cece, then Fucia. “Ill be right behind you,” came the voice of 971 from the side. Fucia squeezed through the warped panel, gripping the rope and sliding down carefully. When she had cleared the sharp metal, she looked down - although she instantly wished she hadn’t. She dangled haphazardly nearly 50 feet above another great room, similar to the inventing room, except it ziggazzed up and down with conveyor belts carrying lines and lines of eggs - eggs in every conceivable color and pattern. They appeared from holes the walls, and moved slowly but surely towards a spiraling terraced structure lined with hundreds of small, furry, moving things. “Are those….*possums*?” Fucia asked out loud, peering at the bare-tailed creatures that gingerly picked up the eggs from the conveyor belt as it passed by. “Looks like it,” mused 971 from above her on the rope, “I guess their hands are a little nimbler than squirrels.” “What?” “Nevermind,” said 971. They both watched as the possums occasionally threw an egg or two down from their perch. It landed into a pile underneath them - a pile of cracked eggshell and paper mache. “They’re *cascarones*,” Fucia realized aloud, “confetti eggs. I guess they’re tossing the defective ones?” Just then, the platform that the pile rested gave way. The egg debris vanished into a dark abysmal hole - one, Fucia realized, that her group’s rope was hanging directly over. “Look! Over there!” Came Cece’s voice from further down the rope. Fucia scanned the rest of the room to see that it was also swimming with Imps, but also there, in the far corner, shoved under the criss-crossing conveyor belts, was the rest of the tour group, all bound together by some sort of plastic wrap. “Finito!” 971 exclaimed, “we just have to figure how to get to them free…and then how to get them out of here. But after that, its a hitch!” Fucia kept scanning. “There, right behind them, theres another vent. If one of us can sneak over and melt the hinges off while the rest of us free the group, we could get them out of here unnoticed.” “Brilliant,” Cece muttered underneath her, “and just how do you suggest we get down there? That trapdoor won’t hold all of us.” “Do they not have this movie called ‘Spider-Man’ in your universe?” Fucia retorted. “With Tobey Maguire? Oh my gob, I *love* that movie! ” Came Jas’ voice from the bottom of the rope. “Just wait until the third one,” came 005’s disappointed tone, coming from above Jaz. The rope began to swing back and forth, gaining more and more momentum as the others joined in. “One last thing,” came 971’s voice from above, “once we get down there, we’ll have to be extra silent. The Imps have extra sensitive hearing. One wrong sneeze, and they’ll be over us in seconds.” The group cautiously shimmied down the rope, trying to get as close to the ground as it would permit them. Fucia eyed the busy fuzzy creature that surrounded her nervously. They seemed meticulously absorbed in their tasks, not even paying the imps any mind, and Fucia hoped it stayed that way. “Ouch! Quit stepping on my head!” Came a hushed complaint from beneath her. Fucia tensed as some of the possums looked up, sniffing the air. After a moment of silence, they returned to their eggs. “Sorry,” whispered Fucia back in a hushed tone, “I can’t exactly see you.” *shoomp!* A loud snapping noise came from below as the trapdoor reset. “Perfect. If we can swing over to the edge, it should hold us one at a time,” whispered 971. A silent *clop* hit the doors below Fucia, the telltale sign of Jas’ docs. Then after, a silent tremor, barely visible if the trapdoor didn’t bounce slightly. It was from 005 - silent as a ghost like always. Fucia was almost all the way down the swinging rope when another muffled thump came from below. Cece seemed to have made it. Now it was her turn. She swung herself back and forth, mustering enough momentum to launch her to the edge. She prayed for a better landing than she had with the airsuit. She flew for a moment, before flipping and landing squarely at the edge of the platform. Flawless, she thought - and of course, she was invisible, so no one saw it. A fifth thud sounded beside her, assuring her 971 had joined them. They began a steady creep towards the hostages, weaving in and out of conveyor belts, creeping within coughing distance of patrolling imps at times. Despite the tension, Fucia fought to keep her heart rate down, terrified of losing her invisibility. Finally, she crept close enough to see her her Tia. She sat still, tied up to the rest with one or two goblins standing close by, and although a little banged and bruised, Fucia breathed a sigh of relief as she seemed okay. Veronica, on the other hand, seemed far from it. Her sunglasses were now gone, and her eyes blazed with rage as she thrashed against her cellophane bonds. “Pinches demonios, let me go! Do you know who I am! Who my husband is? He’ll have your little blue heads!” “Veronica,” groaned her husband beside her, “shut up.” Squeezing past the guards, Fucia knelt down by the old woman. “Tia Sepha,” she whispered. “Fucia?” Her aunt called out, “eres tu, mija?” “Your granddaughter isn’t here, you old bat,” spat Veronica. “Hey! Show some respect! Besides, she’s my *aunt*!” Replied Fucia. “Fucia!” Tia Sepha cried. “Where did that come from?” Alejandra asked groggily, licking some of the excess chocolate from her face with her tongue. “Shhh!” Fucia hushed them, eyeing the cover over the vent starting to melt. “We’re gonna get you out of here.” The vent cover came off, floating in mid-air before being placed gingerly down beside the exposed duct. Fucia found a small pair of scissors in her belt, and soundlessly cut the plastic around them. “Theres a way out through that vent,” Fucia explained, “one of us will distract the guards, and then on my sig-“ Before she could utter another word, Alejandra shot up, running full speed as fast as her legs could carry her towards the vent. She dove in, then stopped halfway, wiggling her legs frantically. “Crap,” muttered 005, “she’s stuck.” “Of course she is,” Cece groaned, “get her out of there, quick.” The girl’s legs suddenly stopped kicking, straightening out as if pulled. But the girl wouldn’t budge, and the goblins began to turn and notice, uttering a low growl as they approached. “Shit, theyre closing in.” 005 said. The sound of a cocking pez gun came from Jas. “Just let ‘em try.” “No, there’s too many of them,” warned 971. “Ugh! Do you guys *ever* have any real fun?” Jas complained. Fucia looked about frantically. There had to be something she could do, some sort of way out. Looking about the room, a eureka moment dawned on her. Before she even had time to inform the others, she leapt over an imp in the way and made a bee line for the egg platform. “Hey!” She yelled, “you ugly *tontos*! Over here!” The Goblins looked towards her direction, confused. She began to run in place, waving her arms, jumping and shouting, anything to get her invisibility to wear off. At length a faint outline of her started to reappear, but the goblins were much more interested in rounding their prisoners back up. “Oh, come on!” She yelled, “the one time you’re not interested in attacking m-“ *crack!* Fucia felt something strike the crown of her head as a puff of paper dots floated down in front of her eyes. She wiped the mess of confetti from her head, flicking off the pieces clinging to her hands - pieces, she realized, that were visible. *crack*! Another egg exploded in paper debris on her shoulder. She looked up to be met with a chorus of angry hisses. And a new idea *hatched* in her mind. Frantically, she jumped up and down, waving her arms. “Hey! Yoohoo! Over heeere!” More agitated hissing came from above. Fucis braced herself for the torrent of contempt-thrown eggs. *crack! Crack! Crack!* Soon she was covered head to toe in brightly colored paper scraps, like a human piñata - just enough of a spectacle to turn some attention. While a handful of them worked on corralling the escaped captives, the majority of the horde in the room rushed towards the confetti-covered figure. “That’s it, you stupid bat-eared freaks,” Fucia mumbled, “just a little closer.” The first wave of them had almost reached her on the platform - Fucia turned to the wall behind it in a full sprint, kicked off, and launched herself in the air at the licorice rope dangling overhead. Once she was up, she bit the slack below her and climbed, just high enough to narrowly miss a goblin’s clawed swipe at her backside. A pile of them snarled and clawed below her, desperately scrambling over one another to try to get at her. “Ahem,” she cleared her throat, looking up towards the furry creatures perched above, “I believe I have some bad eggs for you!” As if on cue, the possums began to hurl egg after egg down at the imps, caking them in shell and confetti. They quickly shook it off, only angered all the more, but not in time to realize the weight that had been added to the platform. It buckled, and with a few last desperate grasps at Fucia in the air above them, the host of imps plummeted into the darkness below. From across the room, a torrent of blaster-fire erupted from the air. The remaining goblins were surprise-pummeled with an assault of flying pez and purple paint. As the last one fell, three blue women suddenly materialized in the air, weapons drawn. “Finally! Some action!” Jas exclaimed. “Nice *going*, Fucia!” 971 shouted from across the room. Cece and Jaz both cheered for her in agreement. Fucia swung herself back and forth on the candied rope, letting out her own battle cheer. “Heeeeeeeeeeeeeeyaaaaahh! Now thats what I’m talking abou-“ *snap!* Just then the rope lost its holding up top, sending Fucia falling before she could even scream. She flew headfirst into black chute below, her eyes met only by black, when a strong hand caught her by the ankle. She looked up to see herself seemingly held by an invisible force, one that soon revealed itself as 005 materialized into view. The blue girl hauled her safely up to the floor’s edge. “Thanks,” Fucia gasped, “I owe you.” “Wasn’t keeping track,” 005 winked with levity, “told you to watch your step. When you gonna start listening to me?” “I knew what I was doing,” countered Fucia sarcastically as they joined the others, “you’re stronger than you look, by the way.” “And you’re heavier,” 005 taunted. Fucia laughed. Who knew almost dying in a candy factory could be so…*fun*? She whipped back around to the trapdoor. “Wait…did I….kill them?” 005 laughed. “Nah. They probably landed on a heap of eggshells at the bottom of the garbage chute. They’ll be fine. Once they reach the bottom.” When Fucia wasnt looking, 005 candidly pressed a control button on the wall, changing the display screen from “Incinerator” to “Garbage Heap.” The tour group was once again freed, and Alejandra successfully pulled from the vent opening. They stood around in disbelief at the scene that had just played out, and most kept their distance from the purple-hued heroines who had rescued them. Fucia, however, ran full speed towards one person in particular. “Tia!” She shouted, enveloping the old woman in her arms, “*Bendiciones por Dios*, I’m so glad you’re safe.” Her aunt returned the heartfelt embrace, then looked at her confused as she pulled away. “What happened to your lovely dress, mija?” Fucia shook her head. “I’ll tell you later. Right now, we’ve got to get you all out of here. Now.” “Point the way. I never want to see another piece of candy again!” Veronica huffed. Alejandra twiddled her thumbs nervously, “Yeah…me too…at least for a little while…” “Well the vent’s out,” Cece observed. “That’s fine,” decided 971, “We’ll take to the halls. Just have to keep an extra eye out for Imps as we go.” She motioned them towards the exit. When they reached the hallway, they realized that it diverged into two directions - one, Fucia saw, was a tunnel which in the distance connected back to the chocolate room. The other was immense, dark, and obscured by shadow. Fucia stopped dead in her tracks, wrought with concern. “Shoot,” she realized aloud, “if we continue farther into the Factory…I don’t think my tia wont be able to keep up with us.” “Farther *in*! Are you purple people crazy? I’m *not* doing that!” Veronica interjected. “No one said we wanted you along!” All five rescuers turned and scolded her at once. “Fucia’s right,” 971 concluded, “We should get the tourists out of here now. Its not safe for them to stay.” “Was it *ever*?” Veronica asked. The Violets looked at each other for a moment and shrugged. “Yeah she’s…kind of got a point.” 971 though for a moment, then turned to Fucia. “This was’t how your tour was supposed to go, Fucia. You got caught up in *our* multiversal mess. And you’ve been an asset in helping us clean it up. I don’t think it would be right to ask you to continue on with us. Jas will get you and the other tourist out of here. Home. Safe. You never have to worry about or look at another candy factory again. I think you’ve at least earned that much.” “Oh,” said Fucia, “but…what about you guys?” “We can handle it from here. We’ll find those missing VIEs and swoop them right out from under the Rotten One’s nose. Right guys?” Called 971 to her associates. They nodded in agreement. “Thank you, really, for all you’ve done. Seeding event or no seeding event…you’re one of us. Through and through.” She threw her arms around the pink-clad girl , as did the other three. Fucia looked back at her tired aunt and the expectant inpatient faces of the other tourists. Then she looked back at the four blue women that readied their weapons for the fight ahead. “Wait, hold on,” she said, “I made you guys a promise. You rescue my aunt, I help you rescue the others that this witch has messed with. We’re 0 for 2 right now, and I don’t think I wanna break this streak just yet.” The blue girls’ faces lit up. 005 raised an eyebrow, “Fucia…are you sure about this?” She nodded. “We never leave behind a VI in need, right?…besides…this hag messed with *my* universe.” She raised a cocky eyebrow herself. “You think I’m just gonna just let that slide?” “Fucia,” Tia Sepha interjected, “vienes con nosotros?” Fucia turned to her aunt, “Not yet, Tia,” she explained, “there’s something I have to do first. Estes mujeres son muy buenas amigas. They helped me find you, now they need my help. Go with Jas. She will keep you safe. I’ll meet you outside soon. I promise.” She hugged the old woman one last time as the old woman nodded in understanding. Fucia exchanged a glance with Jas, who gave a reassuring nod that her aunt was in good hands. “Alright, pity party, arms and legs inside the group at all times. If you see something blue that isn’t me, scream and point to it so’s I can *blast* it! On second thought, Cece, come here for a second.” Cece approached, confused. “Let me see that,” Jas gestured towards her weapon. Cece smirked, “Awe, so its grown on you, has it?” The purple punk snatched it away conceitedly, swapping it for her pez launcher. “I just hate to see it brutalized in your hands.” She reached into her bag and threw Cece a chain of gobstop grenades. “If you run out of ammo, improvise with *this.* Trust me, you’ll like it.” Cece rolled her eyes and shouldered the candied weapons as Jas escorted the group down the tunnel. They passed through the bridge to the chocolate room and, then they were gone from view. Fucia and company now turned toward the opposite corridor, rife with shadow and uncertainty. She looked at the azure, determined faces of her comrades and nodded. “Alright then,” she said, “To the next room.” ————————————————————- Fucia, Cece, and Violets 005 and 971 dashed through the seemingly abandoned halls of Waldo’s Factory with sever apprehension. It was true that they had not spotted a single Imp since the Egg Room. Perhaps it was luck, perhaps its was a trap, regardless, they took advantage of the vacancy to make a B-line for the next factory epicenter. “The TV room,” 971 explained as they ran. “The last of the big ones. They’ve gotta be in there.” “Whats usually in there?” Asked Fucia, tired of being surprised by every turn. “Just more things that shouldn’t be touched,” assured 005. They made their way to a large set of neon-lined doors. “We should be ready for anything behind those doors,” Cece added, pulling her pez blaster out at the ready. 005 and 971 nodded. Fucia drew her cinnamon nunchucks. “On 3. 1…2…3…” All four women burst into the room, braced for the fight of their lives. But what they saw stopped them dead in their tracks. “Wha…wuh…its…its…” stuttered 971. She stared dumbfounded at the open room lined with bare white walls. “Its empty..” Cece sighed. “We knew this was a long shot from the start…” added 005, “maybe they’re not here at all. She could have them back on her homeworld, easy…” “You’re telling me no ones checked *there*?” Fucia asked. “That’s cause we don’t know where it *is*,” Cece corrected. “Right,” said 971, “we don’t know where it is, or how she gets to and fro from it…but she *must* have something. An elevator, like ours. If we could at least find that out…” “We could tag it. Just like I did the goblin. But we didn’t see anything like it in the inventing room.” “Or anywhere else for that matter,” finished 971, “it just doesn’t make sense. It should be here! I mean if its teleportation we’re talking…” The blue woman gasped, and bit her thumb. “Unless….” “What is it?” Fucia asked. “Oh, no,” 971 buried her face in her gloved hands. “Of course. Why didn’t I realize it sooner?” “What!” Fucia demanded impatiently. “No,” 005 said, “don’t tell me…” 971 nodded, “What’s the one place in this factory that a VIE would never want to go?” They took off back down the winding hallways, Fucia running frantically in tow. She thought they might never stop, descending deeper and deeper into the building’s seemingly infinite mechanical bowels, until they stopped abruptly at a set of doors labeled in plain, white letters. “The Juicing Room…” Fucia read aloud. A visible chill ran down the purple women’s spines. “Never made it down to one of these on my world,” Cece added, “but I’ve heard plenty from the other Vi’s to know .” “This place doesn’t rest easy on any Vi’s mind,” 971 assured. Her demeanor made Fucia a little nervous. It was the first time she had seen their fearless leader visibly uncomfortable. “But if our missing Vi’s are in there, we’ll just have to push that aside,” she resolved, bulldozing through the double doors. Fucia and the others followed her in. The room was dimly lit, coming from streams of glowing liquid that flowed along the walls in stud-fastened glass tubing, casting ghostly pinks, blues, greens and oranges faintly across the grey walls and dull metal machinery. In great vats along one wall, lemons, oranges, pitayas and watermelons the size of cows floated ominously in bubbling discolored water. “Hey…were those things…people?” Fucia asked anxiously, pointing towards them. “No. Probably just ‘confectionery giants’. They’ve never been anything besides plants. At least, on most worlds thats how it is…” 971 explained. None of them except Fucia spared a look at the monstrous iron behemoth in the middle of the room. A network of hinges and pistons held aloft a large concave structure, like a massive metal bowl turned upside down. An identical bowl and telescoping ramp rested directly beneath it on a network of twisting tubes and pumps, connected, she realized, to the glass cylinders that ran the length of the walls. She noted how the edges of each bowl interlocked, as if meant to come together, and how the surface within the lower bowl was grooved, and continuous albeit for three perfectly head-and-hand-sized holes. It donned on her: This place, this hellish machine, by way of fate or destiny or cruel provident design - was meant for her. “C’mon Fucia,” 971 ordered protectively, “its best to just keep moving.” She motioned the girl swiftly past the steampunk hell-machine as well as a series of smaller equally-convoluted apparati, which Fucia could have only guessed the purpose of if she had even spared herself to look. “Alright, I’ve seen enough scary shit,” Cece complained, “There’s nothing else in here. Hope this was a fun little walk down memory lane for you all, now can we please go?” “Hold on,” 005 put a hand up to signal silence. With the other, she held her wrist-watch device out towards a set of wide sealed doors at the back of the room. *beep* *beep* *beep* went the device on her wrist. “I’m getting HUGE ultraviolet wavelengths coming from behind that door.” The blonde reported. “Its them, I know it!” 971 said anxiously. “Great, but how do we bust it open?” Cece countered. 005 was already halfway through pulling apart the keypad next to the entrance. The pad flashed green and the doors gave way with a hiss of smoke. “No need,” she said. The girls stepped cautiously through the now-open causeway, but stopped soon after. Without coordination, all four of their mouths dropped wide open. “Holy…f-fucking….,” 005 stuttered. “Snozzberries!” 971 gasped. The room was larger than the last - nearly four times so. Whatever was originally in the room had been completely destroyed by the massive sinkhole that consumed the entirety of the floor. The hole itself, in turn, was almost completely encumbered by a spherical monstrosity of technological making that loomed almost to the ceiling, covered along its surface by a plethora of glass orbs and tubes that pulsated with an ominous purple glow, like a giant constructed metal model of a virus. “971,” Fucia cried, pointing to the surface of the massive structure, “w-what are those things in the glass? They’re keep moving around. A-re they balloons or something?” “Not balloons, Fucia,” 971 corrected shakily, “….berries.” Fucia looked closer, and the image was clear: round, blue berry-women, hundreds of them, each trapped inside a glass bubble, strapped to a nest of tubes and pumps flowing with purple liquid that was sucked through the glowing fissures towards the center of the machine. “Its them,” Cece breathed, “the missing Vi’s. Every single last one of them.” “What’s happening to them?” Fucia cried worriedly. “They’re being harvested,” 005 breathed, horrified, “good Gob, she hasn’t been kidnapping them, she’s been *collecting* them! They’re being *farmed*!” “The way that a cow might be,” 971 said angrily. “What kind of sick, twisted mind would even *imagine* something like this?” 005 wondered. “Right?” Muttered Cece, “if she wanted that much juice, all she’d really need is 005 and a vibrator.” 005 whirled around angrily, and for the first time Fucia had ever seen, blushed deep with purple. “Hey, that was *one time*! I *never* should have told you guys about that...” “Cece - inappropriate.” 971 scolded. “Sorry,” Cece apologized, but cracked a teasing smirk, “its nothing to be ashamed of, 005, really…” “Wait, so…harvested? For their *juice*? W-what would she even want it for?” Said Fucia, bringing the group back around. “If I had to guess,” Cece pointed towards the top of the dome, “I’d say its to power *that*.” The top of the dome began to open like petals of a flower, revealing hydraulic pistons that telescoped further and further out, unveiling a giant disk indurated by a menacing pyramidal knob. The laser-like contraption buzzed and crackled with bolts of violet electric energy. “Oh shit,” Fucia observed, “its like some giant, blueberry-powered Death Star…” “They have those movies on your world too, huh?” 971 turned to ask, “Hey has the third one come out yet? I’m dying to know what happens next. Last one was such a cliffhanger…” 971 was cut off by a sudden eruption of guttural chattering from above them. The group looked up, shining their lights to the cavern ceiling above. They were met by the glow of a thousand red eyes. A host of bat-like faces met them baring hungry fangs as they unfurled leathery blue wings. “Uh oh…” 005 mumbled. The winged blue creatures launched from their perch and fell upon the group in a frenzy. “These things *fly* now??” Fucia asked, dodging and whacking with her nun-chucks. “It’s news to me too!” Cece shouted over the fray of her fruit-blaster. “But at least they’re not shooting back!” An ear-splitting hiss emerged from the mechanical behemoth in front of them. A section of the orb gave way, unfolding into a bridge that spanned the chasm. A wave of dense, purple fog spilled out of the opening, along with a hundred or so angry imps on foot, brandishing axes and hammers and blowguns. Fucia recognized the tell-tale whistle as and arrow flew past her head. “You just *had* to say something, didn’t you!” 005 complained to Cece. “They’ll regret I ever did,” Cece replied, pulling the pouch of gob-grenades from her belt and shoving them into her launcher. “Time to see what Jas was raving about.” 971 stopped her. “Don’t! The VIE’s, we could hurt them..” she gestured towards the distressed berries still wriggling in their bulb-shaped prisons. “I never thought I’d say this, but I think we should get back to the Juicing Room! Run!” They took off through the door they came, arrows and darts whizzing past them as they ran. Fucia made sure not to trip on the tubes and pipes that littered the floor, as one wrong move could mean being overrun by goblins and bats alike. When they cleared the double doors at the juicing room’s entrance, Cece paused. “Hey, c’mon, lets go!” Shouted 971, gesturing to the open hallway before them. “We need to buy us some time,” Cece pointed out, aiming her weapon into the room. “Fucia, in advance, you’re welcome.” She let the grenades fly in a torrent at the juicing machine in the center of the room, their explosion causing it to crumble and shatter right in the pathway of the oncoming wave of monsters. Cece nodded and turned to face them, blowing the smoke from the barrel of her blaster, “That should give us an extra minute or two, or my name isn’t Violet Camila Beauregarde. Now lets g-“ Suddenly Cece shot upright, her face wincing with discomfort. She looked backwards, noticing a stray dart had buried itself snugly in her backside. “Ow,” she complained, yanking it out and groaning, “Of course, it would hit the biggest target.” She tossed it to the ground and joined the others, but they were frozen in place. “Guys, c’mon, lets get outta here.” “Cece,” 971 pointed towards her lower half with a shaky hand, “your, um….*durriere…” * She turned it towards them obnoxiously, “What, you *jealous* or something? Did I get another arrow stuck in it I can’t see?” “No…its…its *growing*!” Fucia gasped, staring along with the rest of the group at her comrade’s rapidly ballooning behind. Cece clasped her swelling cheeks, trying and failing to somehow push them back down, “Oh shit,” she muttered. 005 picked up the discarded dart, inspecting the blue-stained tip. “It’s been poison-dipped. I’ve never seen this before, but it must be some type of juice catalyst.” “Poison that turns people into blueberries?” Fucia said, concerned. “And juiced berries back into full ones,” 005 added. “Ya don’t say…” Interrupted Cece, who had already doubled in size. “And we just blew up the only juicer in this factory…” 971 sighed, pressing a button on her wrist, “I’m calling the BBE down to the chocolate room. Looks like the time for stealth has passed.” “Then lets haul *ass* back to the elevator!” Cece huffed, jogging ahead of them, “before there’s too much of it to haul!” They ran, hearing the claws of the even angrier goblins burst through the doors behind them in pursuit. Cece quickly fell behind, her jog slowing to a waddle as she grew wider and wider, practically bouncing foot to foot to keep up. Her weapon fell from her shoulder and clattered behind her. Her friends turned back in concern. “Leave it, its empty,” she huffed, wobbling to a halt. She failed to stop completely, tipping over and rolling onto the elliptical expanse that used to be her stomach. She shook her head, “its no use, I’m filling up too fast. You guys have gotta go!” “Cece…” 971 pleaded defiantly. “Its all good, Chief. Nothing I haven’t handled before, honest. Now run! They’ll be on you too if you slow down anymore. Hurry!” Reluctantly, the remaining three turned and continued. Fucia looked back only once to see that a few goblins had deviated from the group to surround a now fully-spherical Cece. “I *better* not pop this time!” she yelled angrily as they rolled her back down the hall - back, Fucia could only guess, towards that horrible ship that they had stumbled upon. More darts began to whizz around them. The girls fired back as they ran, unleashing every possible gizmo and gadget from their belts behind them. It bought them a few yards, but the ravenous nature of the snarling blue imps ensured it did not last long. 005, nimble as ever, was likely the best at dodging the poisoned projectiles. As they sprinted side-by-side, Fucia watched her bend backwards, flip, and somersault through the hurtling darts with ease. If they weren’t running for their lives, Fucia might have asked her if her world had any form of the *Matrix* movies. They turned the corner, shielding them temporarily from the darts, and Fucia recognized the egg room as they passed it to the left. They were almost there, they were almost - Just then her boot caught a stiff spot on the floor, and she tumbled to the floor. She scrambled to get back onto her feet, but made the mistake of looking back to see the horde of goblins turn the corner after them, preceded by a hail of darts heading straight for her. She threw her arms up in a vain attempt to shield herself, closed her eyes and braced for the sting of impact and whatever horrifying transformation might ensue. *thnk thnk thnk!* She heard the darts meet their mark, but felt nothing. She opened her eyes to see 005 standing over her, eyes wide, arms spread out, and peppered with darts. A single, blue tear ran down her cheek. “No!” Fucia shouted. “Its okay,” 005 reassured her, her hips already spreading wider than her shoulders. “You shouldn’t have done that!” Fucia cried desparately. 005 winced as the surge of juices expanded her figure rapidly. She staggered from the weight, but kept her gaze locked on Fucia’s. “It’s not your fault. I…chose this.” Fucia watched helplessly as the young woman, unable to fight back the swelling any longer, blimped rapidly to nearly fill the hallway - creating a worthwhile barrier between her two remaining friends and their enemies. “Fucia…remember what I told you!” She shouted from atop her body, “*Don’t* let them decide for you! Whatever you do…” She rocked back suddenly as the goblins took hold of her and began to roll her away. “Take charge of your own fate!” She called out desperately, tumbling away down the hall at the goblins’ collective pushing. Adrenaline and fear washed over grief once more and Fucia found herself running again beside 971. As she glanced over to her companion, she noticed the woman’s uniform had also begun to fill out a little more than before. “Oh Gob, did you get hit too?” Fucia shouted as they fled. 971 looked down at her jostling midriff. “No, not yet - I just bloat when I’m nervous!” Fucia reasoned her commander’s nerves must have been shot, as the woman was getting thicker by the second - and as a consequence, slowing down. Notwithstanding, they were putting significant distance between them and the goblins (whose company had already halved given the effort required to roll 005 away) and Fucia could make out the light of the chocolate room faintly in the distance. They were getting close. *sshunk!* “Augh!” 971 cried, clasping the wounded back of her thigh. “Son of a Prinzmetal!” She pulled the dart out and kept running, but it quickly became clear it was to no avail. Her burgeoning thighs scrubbed heavily against each other as she worked them, trying to keep pace with Fucia. “Not gonna need this in a few seconds,” she complained in frustration, pulling her belt free and tossing it behind. She tightened the ribbon keeping her hair back and used what remaining momentum she had to push off the floor and spin mid air. Her expanding body bounced as she hit for floor, sending her into an inertia-fueled barrel roll which carried her right alongside Fucia. Unfortunately, Fucia realized too late that the hallway narrowed up ahead. Before she could say or do more, 971 rolled right into the precipice wall with an audible *whack!* She bounced back a few feet before rolling to a stop. “Shit!” Fucia said, scrambling back to her mentor’s side, “are you okay??” “Oh, yeah,” cheered an exasperated 971 from her upper hemisphere. The hand sticking out of her side closest to Fucia gave a reassuring thumbs up. She blew a puff of air at her bangs to clear her eyes. “Not my first rodeo. Or the second, believe it or not.” Fucia got on the opposite end of her, straining with her back against her to get the literal ball rolling again. “Gngggh. Gonna…get you…out of here!” She said. “Fucia…” 971’s tone was calm, but serious. Fucia knelt by her head as it looked out at her from the divot in her body. “Neither of us are making it to the elevator in time. Chew that taffy that Prime gave you. It’ll get you back to HQ and they can send reinforcements to come back for us and the rest of the Vi’s.” “Here, you chew it!” Fucia said frantically searching in her breast pocket. 971 shook her head, or at least attempted to. “It has to be you,” she said, “we can’t let her capture you.” Fucia shook her head back, “I can’t do this without you!” 971 smiled at her friend. “You already have,” she affirmed, “you’ve exceeded all of our expectations. You can do it. Hurry!” Fucia nodded and reached into her pocket. Suddenly, one of the doors in the hallway opened with an ear-splitting creak. A hazy, purple swirling mist poured out in its wake. “Well, well, well…what do we have here?” A voice like rancid grapes called out. “A bunch of berries…fallen out of the basket…” Fucia recognized it at once and her heart skipped. She peered over 971’s rounded middle, and the decrepit hooded figure that haunted the hallway confirmed her dread. “The Rotten One,” she rasped in a panic. “Change of plans,” 971 whispered, “Run, quick! Hide somewhere! Then get outta here!” Fucia nodded, creeping over to the crevice behind the narrowing hallway. She watched with worry as the robed witch approached the bloated berry girl, flanked by her mob of goblins. “So *you’re* the one who’s been a constant thorn in my flesh…” she hissed. “Prime’s loyal blue *pup*. You pathetic purple girl scouts…so deluded. All the disruptions you’ve caused me over the years, I ought to make an *example* of you….” She ran a sharpened claw along 971’s exposed, taught middle. “Careful,” 971 warned sarcastically, “I’m known to be ticklish.” “Pfft!” She withdrew her claw and huffed, “I’d simply have no time to clean up the *mess*, is all. Not when I’m so close. Roll her to my ship, like the others.” Her loyal goblins obeyed like zombies, pushing her back down the hall. “Well let’s hope *your* minions are better at steering!” 971 commented as they motioned her away, “and by the way, you owe me a new belt!” “Take the remaining brat with us,” she said, pointing towards Fucia’s hiding place. Before she could even stand, or run, or scream, or do anything for that matter, she realized the goblins had closed in behind her. A decisive blow to the back of her head made everything go dark, and she crumpled to the floor. —————— When Fucia came to, her hands were bound behind her and she lay on her side against the cold floor. As she struggled to lift herself, she realized she was wedged against something stagnant and soft. Turning her head, she realized it was Alejandra, who lay in a heap beside her, accompanied by her Tia Sepha and the rest of the tour group, similarly bound. Above them, a very blown-up and immobile Jasmine gave an embarrassed grimace. “Hey there Fucia….we, uh…didn’texactly make it to the exit in time…” she said when she saw her companion was awake, “where’s the others?” A throaty, gurgling laugh came from behind them, like a sewer rat coughing up a lung tumor. “I’m afraid that like you, Miss Vermillion…your friends have been ‘berried’ alive!” As they looked to the direction of the voice, they saw a figure shrouded in purple robes and shadow throw her head back in laughter. When it lowered again, two glowing eyes peered out from the rim of darkness behind the hood. “I don’t remember swappin’ business cards lady, how do you know my name?” Jasmine barked. “My *dear*…I have spent *years* looking out into the vast, *twisted* permutations of the multiverse…and the horrible worlds within them. I have seen hundreds - no, *thousands* of you. I know you by name, by designation, by deed - even by hue, #7d8dd6.” “Geez…stalker, much?” Jasmine resignedly whined. Fucia glanced around the room. It was a scattered mess of broken pipes, shattered glass, spilled barrels, and dented metal monoliths of frayed and stripped wire. Berry Imps blocked every conceivable exit - even the vents above. “No escaping this time, Fucia Benitez,” the Rotten One gloated, “But I suppose since you’re finally here, a proper greeting is in order. Welcome, my dear, to The Inventing Room!” Behind the witch, slumped over in a chair, was the Inventor, now with both eyes blackened shut and covered in what Fucia hoped was lots and lots of red food dye. “Stilly worried about old Waldo here, eh? He’s still alive, I assure you. Just barely - I’ll keep him breathing so long as he’s useful.” At this she cackled, joined by some of her imps on queue. She turned the swirling glowing blue orbs within her hood towards the girl, who struggled fruitlessly at her bonds - it was no use, the licorice held as fast and tight as steel cable. “Whatever you’re trying to do here, it won’t work!” Fucia protested through gritted teeth. “You’ll *never* get me to chew that gum. I won’t be part of your horrible machine! You’ll have to *kill* me first!” Again, the twisted creature laughed, like oil sputtering from a broken machine. The glowing eyes in the shroud narrowed. “Conceited as ever, aren’t we, darling? You should choose your words more carefully. You see, I don’t actually *need* you. Im not sure I even *want* you, for that matter. I likely have a hundred or so berrified *you’s* sitting in my ship already, providing much needed fuel to it. I supposed I shouldn’t be too hasty to judge: after all it’s only *natural *for you to assume you’re so important to be at the center of my plans. I attacked *your* universe, disrupted *your* tour, and likely ruined *your* chances at a lifetime supply of chocolate or whatever *crank* prize this mustachioed dolt is pedaling.” She nodded to Waldo, who protested with a rasping groan. “I hate to burst your bubble, my competitive little cretin, but this has *never* had anything to do with you,” The Rotten One spat, “and had everything to do with *this.*” A long, gaunt hand appeared from under her sleeve, and The Rotten One beckoned something forth from the corner of the room. Two imps approached, pushing a wheeled, cylindrical contraption that somewhat resembled a cross between a portable generator and an ATM. The Rotten One clasped both gnarled hands together, exposing her splintering nails as she turned to Waldo. “You clever *dog*, you really thought you could keep it from me by hiding it in plain sight, didn’t you? Granted, its not quite as grand and impressive of a machine as that of your multiversal counterparts, but mark my words, this one crowns them all.” “What…is it?” Fucia asked. “Why my dear,” mocked the witch, “you’re telling me *you* of all people don’t recognize this marvelous contraption? What it does? Or more specifically…what it *makes*?” Fucia drew in a sharp breath. “The gum.” “Not just *any* gum,” The Rotten One corrected, “Don’t be *modest* - its the most fantabulous sensational gum in the entire multiverse! One piece…a three course meal…” “H-haven’t…gotten it right…yet,” groaned Waldo from behind, stirring awake. “Oh, but I’d say you *have*, Mr. Waldo,” taunted The Rotten One, leaning over him, “I would say you’ve rather outdone yourself. Really, you’ve achieved *perfection*. So much so, that the only thing keeping it from being between my fingers right now is that *nasty* little password you placed on the device. So please, would you be so *kind* as to give it to me?” “*No lo haría,*” the beaten candy-maker breathed hoarsely. “If you have any interest in leaving at least *some* of your ribs unbroken,” the witch hissed, a ball of glowing blue plasma forming in her hand, “I think you would…” The plasma moved by her command over his injured ribs and constricted. The inventor stiffened, attempting to scream at the burning of his flesh, but alas, he could not even take in the air to do that. Instead, he spasmed in unfathomable agony as the hooded monster pressed her spell in deeper..deeper… Finally, she relented. Waldo doubled over, heaving, and when he had managed to catch some semblance of breath, looked up at The Rotten One with his less-swollen eye. Fucia saw in it all the spite and cunning of a cornered jackal with one last trick up his sleeve. “W-what is the beginning of tragedy…” he sputtered, “the magician’s final trick…” He managed to grin triumphantly through bloodied teeth, “…never found once on a p-peppermint stick?” He tried to laugh, but his eyes began to close - they darted once to Fucia before shutting completely as he slumped to the side and both chair and candyman fell to the ground with a sickening crack. The Rotten One nudged him with a cloth-bound foot. “Don’t you pass out on me yet, you fool! Wake *up*! Augh! Blast these candy-makers and their incessant riddles!” She drew her hands up in frustration, conjuring sparks of purple energy that jettisoned from her fingertips towards the tubes and pipes above them, shattering them upon impact with a deafening *boom!* that swept the room. The wave of energy blew back her robe, sending long locks of snow-white hair swirling behind her. “Get something to revive him,” the berry witch ordered her goblins, “we’ll just have to keep pushing when he comes to. He will cave, eventually. Sooner or later, I *always* get what I want.” “But why bother?” piped up Fucia, “When you could have it *now*?” The witch whirled around. Among the mess of silver hair, Fucia looked upon her, eye-to-eye. Her face, like her hands, was blue and gaunt - like a ripe grape that had been left in the sun for eons. Despite her ancient complexion, her sunken eyes glowed with capable indigo malevolence. She flashed a toothy grin at Fucia. “Do go on…” “Waldo’s three course gum, that’s really all that you came here for?“ The witch raised her right hand, closed her eyes and touched the enchanted, glowing sigil that was tattooed over her brow: a swirl with three petal-like lines sprouting from the top. “I swear to you by the sacred rune, that is all I seek.” “Then I know what the password is. I’ll give it to you. Boom, the gum’s yours.” “Is that so?” The Rotten One’s eyes glowed brighter in interest. “Fucia, don’t!” Jas yelled, “We have no idea what she’ll do with it!” “I don’t care!” Fucia shouted back. “Im tired of all this nonsense. I’m sick of the factory, the prize, the fighting. I don’t want anything to do with it anymore. I just wanna go home. So I’ll give it to you…if you agree to let my friends and family go. And all the tourists, plus Waldo and his halflings, too. I’m sure he can change them back, somehow. And, you give back all of the VIEs you kidnapped. To us. You do that, and you can take your stupid gum and get outta here.” The blueberry witch sneered. Her smile widened sinisterly, and her palms began to glow with blue plasma. “And what’s to stop me from killing your friends, destroying your home and *torturing* what I want out of you?” “Extra work?” Fucia guessed defiantly against the threat of blue plasmic destruction, “Plus, I’m a Vi - that means I’m stubborn. You thought it was hard getting Waldo to cooperate? It’ll take twice as long with me. You’ll have to beat me till I’m purple - or, well…maybe some other color…” The witch towered over her, eyes and fingers swirling with dark magic. Fucia tried her hardest not to break her glance, but she felt the façade cracking. Suddenly the Rotten One backed off, expression as pleased as could be, and extinguished her magic with a snap of her fingers. “Alright,” she said pleasantly. She motioned Waldo’s mutated workers over to his side and had them cut him free from the chair. One by one, the tourist guests were cut from their bonds as well. The witch knelt down to one of her underlings, “Go unload the young ladies from their juicing pods as Miss Benitez requested. And take this one over to meet them and be juiced - she’s looking a little full. Don’t want her bursting on us now, do we? I’d assume that would be a deal-breaker for our friend.” Obediently, the Imps plodded over to Jasmine, who flapped her arms indignantly as they eased her to her side. “Hey, *careful* with the dress okay? It’s vintage!” She protested as they crowded around her and moved her towards the door. Fucia strained against her own bonds from the pile of captives and looked towards the Rotten One expectantly. “Afraid I can’t let you go just yet, my sweet,” the blue hag teased, “I can’t risk you pulling any last minute tricks. You stay bound until what I want is in my hands. Now, the password.” “Fucia!” Jasmine begged, “don’t!” “The Password! Now, Miss Benitez!” The Rotten One ordered. Fucia looked back at Jasmine, “its the only way Jaz, I’m sorry.” She rose to her feet, and stared the Rotten One down. “The beggining of tradgedy, the magician’s final trick, never found once on a peppermint stick? Its too easy. Gob, are you sure this isn’t *your* first inventing room? The answer, the password…is an *end*. Or if I’m gonna guess, something along the lines of…*finito*. The machine sputtered as if pending her guess, until it blinked and chimed an affirming green. “You two-faced *bitch*!” Jasmine wailed as the imps rolled her out of the room. The Rotten one approached the machine, pulling a lever on its side and cracking an insidious sneer from ear to purple ear as it sputtered to life before the entire room. Then, much to Fucia’s discomfort, she began to laugh. “*Finito*, indeed…” Up next: Gum-chewing….evil?
