Necromance in the Air - Mr Nibbles and the Viceroy

Mr Nibbles and the Viceroy

Well that little interlude with the Eye Guy, Vic, went down well - don’t worry he’ll be back. Let’s get back to Necromance in the Air!

Welcome to Twerking Tuesday! No, that’s not a thing…please stop.

We left the quarrelsome quartet venturing deeper into research and development on their way to see the mysterious Errol. What things lurk beyond the gatekeeper beneath the necromantic call centre? Somewhere in a commercial business park not far from one of the countries worst service stations darkness lurks. Come right this way…

No idea what’s going on? You’re not alone - but you can catch up here-

“Honestly, I once went to an interview and they just took the piss out of me,” Daniel said.

“Seriously?” Felix asked, once again fulfilling the bare minimum required of a socially functioning human being.

“Yeah. Two of them sitting behind the desk and they just started taking the piss. ‘What sort of fruit would you be?’ ‘Would you rather shag an elephant or a giraffe?’”

Debs, walking at the front of their little line, stopped and turned. “Wouldn’t you need a step ladder either way?”

“That’s what you’re taking from this?” Felix asked. He was at the rear. Between him and Debs, Lucy and Daniel walked in step. “The man is telling you people mocked him at an actual interview and you—”

“That’s what I said too. Thought it was some kind of test,” Daniel replied. “Turned out they were just thick as pig shit.”

“So what did you do?” Lucy asked.

“I told them I had no interest in working there and I left.”

“Good for you,” Felix said. “Wish I’d done the same here.”

“What was your interview like for this place?”

“Uh…next question?” Felix muttered.

“Fine, be like that. What about you, Debs?” Lucy asked. “I mean, must’ve been similar, right?”

“It was pretty standard,” Debs said, turning back around. “Fill out the forms, answer the ‘tough situation,’ ‘where do you see yourself in 5 years,’ bullshit.”

They all faced forward again. Marching single file. No one turned their head, no one glanced at the walls or the bizarre things on display. From time to time, a glass window into a room would appear. Still, they kept their eyes locked ahead like teenagers resolutely avoiding eye contact with their nan when an unexpected sex scene appears during an otherwise unremarkable crime drama. Daniel tried not to breathe too loudly, just in case something behind the glass noticed.

“So,” Lucy said, “was it like: ‘Come into this room of corpses. Now, with the tools in front of you, we’d like you to make them dance’? Maybe the call centre waltz? Or was it smaller? Like: ‘Oh no! My pet hamster has just died, whatever will I do? If only someone here trained in small rodent necromancy could bring back Mr Nibbles and stick a headset on him.’”

“You can be a dick, Lucy,” Debs snapped, eyes still forward.

“How is it evil?” Felix jumped in. “At what point does healing people become ‘evil necromancy’? That’s Hollywood bullshit. How many times does bringing the hero back to life get cheers? But bring a henchman back and suddenly it’s evil. Double standard.”

“Climb down from the soapbox,” Daniel said. “Healing? You reanimated heads and put them to work in a call centre. That’s not healing. That’s wage slavery with extra steps. I know you live with all this stuff—” Something slapped against the corridor glass. Daniel flinched, looked—then covered his eyes with a yelp and bolted forward, nearly crashing into Debs. “Oh God, was that thing entirely…arses? It was like staring into a bunch of fleshy abysses…abyssi? Did you see that?”

“The sphincter spectre,” Debs said.

“Seriously?” Lucy asked, “Like ghost bums?” She and Felix had bolted after Daniel. Now they were squished within each other’s personal space while avoiding any physical contact. Maximum social awkwardness competing with genuine terror.

“No, not seriously. How would I bloody know what these things are called?” Debs growled. “Just don’t look. How many times do I have to say don’t look?”

“Yeah but… that thing. I’m going to have serious nightmares after this.”

“Now? Now you’re going to have nightmares?” Lucy’s voice cracked into a painful pitch.

“Yeah, fair point,” Daniel said, fixing his gaze on the back of Debs’ head. He let out a huff, as if a forceful sigh could chase away ghost arses and the undead. “Thing is, Felix, you live in a world where this stuff is normal. The rest of us? We watch a film and take our cue from the music. Rousing, uplifting score? That’s a good resurrection. Ominous creepy sounds? Bad resurrection. Simple. We don’t actually have to believe any of it is real. Suspension of disbelief, right? This though…I wish I could suspend the lot of it.”

“Yeah?” Felix said. “Music is what makes the difference, right? Wonder if Jesus had a marching band with him. Maybe that’s who rolled back the stone? Big cymbal crash—ta-da! ‘He’s back, baby!’ Meanwhile poor old Count Dracula gets lumbered with a solo oboe. And a bunch of depressed bats.”

“Can we change the subject? Or better yet, go back. What was your weirdest interview?” Lucy asked.

Debs, Felix, and Daniel fell silent.

“No? Well mine was probably for this job. Or whatever this is.” She shrugged. “It was seriously random. They had an office and everything. ‘White Cap Operations.’ I thought it was something to do with mountains. Or waves—you know, how they get white caps just before they break? Then it turned out it was about good magic fighting bad magic—”

“There’s no such thing as good or bad magic,” Felix said. But there was no fight in it. His voice had the resigned flatness of someone reciting an argument already lost.

“Yeah, that’s what you say. But then you’re a crap necromancer,” Lucy snapped.

Debs let out a laugh like a bark that echoed down the corridor. All four of them froze until the noise faded.

In hushed tones Lucy continued. “Anyway, it was all pretty normal until this bloke walked in. They called him the Viceroy. He was unimpressive, to be honest—except for the massive moustache.”

“Moustache?” Felix, Debs, and Daniel said in unison.

Lucy nodded. “Yeah, full Victorian train conductor, it had authority. Like it could arrest you for ticket dodging. Why’ve you all stopped walking?”

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