//------------------------------// // Chapter 48: End Of The Doctors (Part 3) // Story: Celestia Uses An Online Dating Website // by RainbowBob //------------------------------// Solaire beheaded yet another Cyberman, sparks flying out of broken electrical cords where bursting arteries were supposed to be. Without even looking he shoved his sword behind himself, right into the chestplate of a Cyberman that was about to sneak up on him. “There seems to be no end to them!” Solaire cried out, another lightning bolt charging itself in his hand. Once it had fully formed, he arched his arm back and threw it into a crowd of Cybermen, solid metal turning to liquid instantly everywhere the lightning touched. Circuitries were fried instantly and body limbs jerked in erratic poses before the more machine than man entities died. “Typically the larger crowd indicates we’re getting closer to the source!” Twilight said. She activated a shield, protecting the group from a barrage of Cybermen laser blasts. Using a laser attack of her own, Twilight was successful in knocking over several of the Cybermen in just one attack, their awkward bodies unable to right themselves back up properly. “We just need to keep on pressing through!” Solaire ripped the sword still stuck in the dead yet upright Cyberman behind him. In a single step he knocked the edge of his shield against a Cyberman’s head, resulting in it falling to the ground so that its companion right behind it met the swift justice of Solaire’s blade. “I can keep this up all day! Oh, what fun it is to cooperate again! Hah ha ha ha!” “Guys, I don’t think Deadpool is looking so hot!” Luna called from the back, awkwardly stepping over fallen Cyberman bodies with Deadpool slung over her back. “Now Mistress Luna, that’s unkind to say! I think he’s quite handsome, actually!” Solaire said, chuckling under his breath as he decapitated two Cybermen in one swing. Luna glanced over her shoulder and shuddered. “His head is growing back all weird!” “We’re kinda busy right here, Princess!” Twilight picked up a Cyberman and flung it into a group of charging Cyberman, resulting in the entire squad tumbling in the ground in a jumble of flailing metal limbs. “Also, did anyone hear a dinosaur roar a few minutes ago?” “Sounded like a dragon to me. And if it is, I’ll need more than just one miracle to take care of it.” Solaire released another spear made of nothing but lightning, incinerating the next dozen or so Cybermen before they even got within ten feet of the group. In just another instant he threw another spear, and then another spear, melting metal and burning circuitry until the entire hallway smelled like a Chinese toy factory that had caught on fire. Not a single Cyberman remained standing. “Oh, well, that was easy enough,” Luna said, checking around Solaire at the blackened hallway. Solaire shrugged. “Not exactly so. For instance, I probably won’t be able to make another one of those for some time now.” “So what if we come against some horrible abomination that needs to be zapped?” Twilight asked. Twisting his sword in his hand with the flick of his wrist, Solaire said, “Then we stab it instead.” “If afraid there will be no zapping or stabbing this evening,” a voice said at the end of the hallway, covered in the smoke of the burning Cybermen. Luna groaned. “Oh, for crying out loud, the mysterious ambiance just gets damn annoying when you repeat it all the time! Just come out already!” The Valeyard stepped out of the smoke, a rapier held aloofly in his hand. “Just trying to create the mood. Heaven knows I’m the only one attempting it.” “Vile villain, now you have met your match in the fields of battle!” Solaire spread out his legs and held his sword with both hands, the tip pointed at the Valeyard’s neck. “I am Solaire of Astora, a Knight of Sunlight. I have killed the damned, demons, undead, hollow, and even gods themselves to help my friends. You have threatened my friends. You have harmed my friends. And for that, you have made a terrible mistake.” “Mistake?” The Valeyard laughed, lifting his rapier up, poised to strike. “The only mistake I see is a fool knight who thinks prancing around in armor like a boy can make a princess love him. Who thinks embracing a curse to find some non-existent sun would give his empty life meaning. You’re more hollow than you know, Sir Knight. You’ve given up everything to find the love of your life, the only thing to give your life meaning, what you gave your life up for, and you know what she did?” The Valeyard smirked, twirling the tip of his rapier in a circle. “She rejected you. And nothing you can do, nothing you can sacrifice, nothing you can accomplish shall ever sway her heart.” “That’s not true,” Twilight said, stepping forward. The Valeyard arched a brow at her. “What?” “I don’t care whether Solaire is dead, undead, whatever. He’s all I ever wanted. A shining knight to stand by my side. Someone who cares about what I have to say and will always be there to listen. Someone so sweet and noble, he’s the sun of my life.” Twilight looked up to Solaire, a smile on her face and tears in her eyes. “Solaire, I know I might not be the sun you had in mind at first, but I hope one day I can be. And I’ll wait every day if I have to.” Solaire sighed, leaning on one knee to rest a hand on Twilight’s shoulder. “It should be I that should ask for your hand—erm, hoof, Mistress Twilight. All this time my princess has been in another castle. It’s only now that I realize where the castle is, and how to unlock its doors to the prize inside.” Twilight sniffed, holding a hoof against Solaire’s hand. “Oh, Solaire…” The sound of the air being cut broke up the romantic engagement. The Valeyard frowned, his rapier shining in the light. “Enough with the theatrics, they bore me. Romance, what a trivial concept to shoehorn in. But that’ll change once I’m in charge. And with me as the lead, you can expect no romantic subplots to go on. Just like the old days! Just like the—” The last of the Valeyard’s sentence was cut off—literally, because a sword had cut into his throat. He fell, clogging on his own blood, desperately clawing at the sword sticking out of his trachea but succeeding in nothing but prolonging his own untimely demise. “Jeez, what a downer,” Deadpool said, walking past the shocked group members. He was unmasked (due to the fact his head exploded and everything), and what was underneath made everyone wish that he was. His entire face was covered in cancerous tumors, his eyes were a solid color of distorted yellow, and not a single hair remained on his head. He bent down and retrieved his katana, wiping off the blood on the Valeyard’s clothing while he still so desperately clung to life. “But… the last time I checked on you, only your jaws had grown back,” Luna whispered, trying her best not to vomit over the recent proceedings. “And I threw my blade once I got my eyes back. It turns out you don’t need much of a brain to throw stuff. Who woulda thunk it?” “Deadpool, are you sure you’re alright?” Solaire asked. “I mean, loss of one head’s seems like it could lead to certain… problems.” Knocking on his skull, Deadpool said, “What? Nah. This happens all the time. I’ve had my head blown up, run over, impaled, dismembered, exploded, imploded, lobotomized, stabbed, cut, sliced, diced, filleted, punched, kicked, steam-rolled, and crushed more times than I could count. Mostly because all that brain damage has made addition and subtraction foreign concepts that make no sense. Just like bathing.” Luna rolled her eyes. “Well, that explains a lot,” she said. “Then could someone mind cluing me in on what exactly happened here?” Celestia asked, peeking behind Deadpool. “Princess!” “Sister!” “Mistress!” “Honeybuns!” Everyone glared at Deadpool. He shrugged. “What, I thought we were okay with the pet names at this point?” “Princess, what happened to you?” Twilight asked. Celestia sighed. “Well… to cut a long story short, some creep tried to take over my mind through using hypnosis.” Luna balked. “Did it work?” With a snort, Celestia shook her head. “I’m not entirely sure. When he tried it, he stood up from his exercise bike too quickly, and then fell off. Got a nasty hit on the head. I think it may have actually killed him.” “Wait, so he’s dead?” Solaire asked. “About as dead as anyone in this damn universe can be.” Celestia shrugged. “Although looks like he’s similar to the Doctor, since he started, uh… regenerating, as I think it’s called. What he turned into was this thin, pale fellow with unruly brown curly hair. I think he called himself… Neil?” Celestia shook her head. “Not sure, he was really quick to make a run for it. Said his recent death gave him just the idea for some graphic thingy.” “Oh, hey, I think this Doctor is regenerating too,” Deadpool said, pointing to the Valeyard. Golden dust surrounded the Valeyard, swirling in tornado of light that enveloped him in an illumination that nearly blinded the group. “Oh, that should be the Seventh Doctor appearing now,” Celestia said, lowering her hoof from her eyes as the light died down. “So the Valeyard was the Sixth Doctor?” Twilight asked. “Yep.” Twilight glanced back to the Valeyard’s still glowing body. “But how did he turn into the Valeyard?” “Uh… hey, everyone, good news! I have a TARDIS to dump this Doctor in, and a new pet t-rex!” “Whoa, seriously?” Luna asked, jumping up and down. “You got us one of the largest predators in prehistoric times as a pet?” Celestia just kept on smiling and nodding her head, dragging Luna and Twilight down the hall with her. “You bet! Uh, Solaire, grab the Doctor, will you? Don’t want any complications in time and whatnot to happen.” “Will do, Mistress Celestia!” Solaire grabbed the unconscious Doctor and threw him over a shoulder, quick to catch up wit the group, leaving Deadpool all alone in the hallway. Deadpool was busy stared at a reflection of himself in the chest plate of one of the destroyed Cybermen. He touched his cheek, then his forehead, and finally his chin, his expression completely blank. Eventually, an old man approached him and stood by his side. “You searching for something, son?” the old man asked. His wrinkles were deep, his hair white, his clothes worn and torn, and his eyes filled with time not well spent. “No. Uh, no, not really.” Deadpool turned away from his reflection and glanced at the old man. “Just thinking.” “About what?” he asked. Deadpool was silent for several seconds. Then he sighed. “Thinking about this story.” The old man looked down at the Cybermen, broken and burned. “Seems like a pretty violent one.” “Yeah, well, that’s typical for me.” Deadpool kicked at a discarded Cyberman hand. “I’m not sure why I’m thinking. I don’t typically do it often. Maybe it’s because my head got blown off.” The old man nodded, not exactly in a sagely way, but more along the lines as he’s been there and done that. “Tends to happen.” “And this story. Celestia’s story, Luna’s story, Solaire’s story, everyone’s story. It just… it just feels like they’re running their course. Everyone except for me.” “Maybe your story hasn’t begun yet.” “Then when will it begin?” Deadpool asked, grabbing onto the old man’s coat. “When? When will it end? The ending, old man, the ending? When is it going to come along?” The old man arched a brow. “Why are you so focused on the ending?” “Because I just want a happy one.” Deadpool loosened his grip on the old man’s coat. “I mean, don’t we all?” The old man nodded. Deadpool laughed a sad chuckle, slowly shaking his head and backing away. “I’ve had so many stories begin. Not all the same, and they all don’t go along the same way, but the ending I always see coming. Me, by myself, stuck in my shitty apartment with my shitty life and my shitty powers and my shitty looks.” He snorted. “You know I used to always want to die because I hated my life so much? I fell in love with Death. She had the hottest body you’ve ever seen.” “We all feel that way sometimes.” The old man held his palm up, cupped like it held something for Deadpool to see. “But you’re still here.” “Yeah.” “Why?” Deadpool looked back at the chest plate. Back at his own reflection. “Because it wasn’t the happy ending I wanted.” “And you think with Celestia you’ll get the happy ending you seek?” Deadpool shrugged. “A hero can hope, can’t he?” A small smile appeared on the old man’s lips. “Yes. Yes they can.” Deadpool glanced back at the old man. “What about you, geezer? You have a happy ending in mine?” The old man shook his head, his smile growing. “My ending came and passed long ago. Countless times over. Just as it is destined to happen more times over. Was it happy?” The old man shrugged. “Sometimes yes. Sometimes no. Sometimes the end was just another beginning. Other times the end was just that. An ending. But for the most part, I like to believe it was happy.” “You think I’ll get a happy ending?” Another nod. Another smile. “Yes.” Deadpool touched his cheek, tracing a line along his tumor marks. “Why?” “Because you don’t wait for your happy ending. You won’t believe how many individuals I’ve met who think it shall appear at their doorway. Like they deserve it. But you, you go out and seek you. You don’t expect your happy ending to happen. You make it happen.” The old man tapped Deadpool’s chest with a single gnarled finger. “And that makes all the difference.” A silence filled the hallway, the sparks from the Cybermen having finally died out. Eventually, Deadpool smirked, nodding his head. “Yeah… yeah, I think I got. I’ll be sure to try and remember it.” “Good,” the old man said, turning on his heel to walk down the hallway. “Wait!” Deadpool pointed a thumb over his shoulder. “Aren’t you going to go to her? You have a chance, you know. Better than I did.” The old man stopped, glancing over his shoulder. A small twinkle shined in his eyes. “No. That’s someone else’s chance. A chance not meant for me.” “Is it meant for me then?” The old man grinned. “Stay and you shall find out. I have merely lit the flame. Whether you are the one meant to remain in the fire is your own path to find.” The old man continued to walk, soon disappearing into the smoke cloud created by the Cybermens’ bodies. “Whoa! I never even got a name from you!” Deadpool shouted at the retreating figure. The old man stopped, barely visible in the smoke’s obscurity. “Just call me… a friend.” And with that, he was gone.