FicWad

Ringo was torn between chasing after George and the Bowdlerisers, and helping Paul. He wanted to help the friend that he had not seen in weeks - but he also wanted to help the other friend he had not seen in weeks. His dilemma, however, was quickly and easily solved. Nanny Ogg spiralled down from above on her broomstick, just as the other George ran up with Silver in tow. "Go after him," Nanny Ogg told him. "We'll look after Paul."



Ringo nodded curtly, and ran. He'd met the other George only recently, the man having turned up in the middle of a battle against Ringo's old friend. Ringo had been too busy to register much other than his almost overwhelming nature, and he wasn't at all sure that he really trusted this newcomer. He had only been able to ignore that intense sexuality because they had been in the middle of a serious battle.



Nanny Ogg, on the other hand, he trusted with his life. He also knew that if anybody could handle the other George, she could. That was certainly the reason why he was able to concentrate now on chasing after the Bowdlerisers and his old friend.



He was, he had to admit, also worried about Warrior. The woman had transformed from sexy warrior maid to Bowdleriser very easily - almost as if it was her natural calling. He hoped that he would be able to get her back again. Hopefully her inherent sexiness and practicality would overwhelm the implanted desire to wear the constricting clothing that covered her...natural assets. Corsets, wasp waists and high collars did nothing to assist a woman as active as Warrior was, and he knew that she would be feeling the disadvantage very keenly.



The Bowdlerisers were not very far in front of him. They raced along the tangled forest path in single file, restricted by the impenetrable nature of the plant-life around them. Ringo had been given a first-hand demonstration of just how impenetrable the plants were when he had watched several of Warrior's henchmen blunt their swords on them. But it wasn't long before the wild, untamed forest gave way to open, well-groomed parkland. The parkland in turn gave way to the cityscape that represented the domain in which Warrior's website existed.



It was only through tremendous effort that Ringo was able to catch up with the Bowdlerisers. They, just as George ahead of them, had thrown off the minimal restraints of their creator to assume the attributes they wished to assume. Ringo reminded himself that he, like the women, wasn't really human. He didn't have to be tired and out of breath if he didn't want to be. He didn't really have lungs, or a heart, or anything like that. He was a creature of the internet, a figment of somebody else's imagination. Imaginary beings could be whatever they wanted to be, assuming that they could impose those desires on the person who had imagined them. Ringo didn't think that Estrelda really wanted him to fail.



As he ran on, he felt a twinge of careless curiosity, as though somebody didn't really mind whether or not he lost George. With a shock, he realised that he was sensing Estrelda's direction in this story. He couldn't help but wonder why he was able to sense it. Nobody had ever mentioned anything like this before.



Then, he felt a sharp rebuke. Don't get distracted... He put all thoughts of Estrelda out of his mind and ran faster. Ahead of him, past the Bowdlerisers, he could see George, also running as fast as he could. His clothing seemed to flicker strangely, and Ringo realised that George was still trying to fight off the effects of the Bowdleriser he'd eaten earlier. That gave him an idea.



Ahead, he saw George turn a corner, and Ringo realised that he had to get ahead of the Bowdlerisers if he was going to help his friend. The city was his friend, however, because he had noticed that the city was laid out on a grid pattern - or, at least, this portion of it was. Other portions were, he had heard, rabbit warrens that were almost as impenetrable as the forest which lay between Warrior's Keep and the City. But then, this section of the city was public domain, and there was no need for the levels of security that private and company websites required.



He turned a corner, and got into the next street along. Then, he put on another burst of speed. He couldn't quite tell if he was still behind the Bowdlerisers until he turned onto the street George had taken, but when he saw George with none of the women between them, he realised with relief that he had managed to overtake them.



The website he wanted was, he knew, accessible from this website. Although it had its own domain name, it was, in fact, powered by the same carrier as all Estrelda's websites were. It was, however, in a different sector of the city.



Out of the corner of his eye, he spotted something that caught his attention. It was a collection of Beatles posters pasted, promoting a concert in a nearby nightclub. A nightclub which had Beatles fans in it would be bound to have a link to the website he was after. All he had to do was to find the nightclub, and then get George into it.



Finding the nightclub turned out to be the easy part. As he raced down the street, he spotted a crowd of people in an assortment of styles and outfits, ranging from twenties flapper dresses to futuristic styles that reminded him of Silver, and realised that they were queuing outside the very nightclub he was looking for. All he had to do now was to lure George there.



"George!" He called out, trying to attract the vampire's attention.



The vampire whirled around to face him, stopping dead in his tracks. Ringo almost ran straight into him, but managed to stumble to a halt before they collided. Ringo knew that if they did collide, he would be in serious trouble. Hopefully, he would be attractive enough bait.



He was caught by the burning hunger in his friend's eyes, and found himself falling into a sea of redness. As he drifted down, and yet further down, he lost awareness of George, of the street he was standing on, of cyberspace around him. It became a background to the red, flickering like fire. As he stared at the buildings, they brightened for a moment, before fading further. Electric blue outlines appeared around the buildings, highlighting their lines like a cartoon that hadn't been coloured in.



As even the outlines faded, he thought, "I wonder if this is another plane of existence?" Then he snorted to himself at the absurdity of that thought. He was, he realised, in mortal danger. If he didn't break free, he would be swallowed up and eaten alive.



A tendril of red flame came towards him, tentatively seeking a way in. As it came closer, fear finally started to blossom, and he started to twist about, desperately trying to avoid the tendril that would suck his very life out of him. Sensing his attempt to avoid being eaten, the tendril darted forward, intending to stab into his flesh and suck the life from his body.



He twisted, and the tendril missed. As it prepared for another stab, Ringo prepared to dodge again. It stabbed, and he dodged. As it stabbed towards him for the third time, however, he realised that the tendril wasn't just missing him because he was dodging - it was being deflected. Something was protecting him.



As it stabbed towards him with increasing rage and futility, he spotted somebody in the distance. The person was mired in flame, held down with ropes of fire that Ringo could see were burning into the person's flesh. The prisoner threw back his head and howled in agony, and Ringo caught sight of a profile that he knew very well indeed. Eyes widening, he realised that this was George. Their George. Apparently, he wasn't quite as mindless as everybody had thought he was. He was simply a prisoner.



Staring around desperately, he started to feel something solid underneath his feet. Taking advantage of that solidity, he started to run towards George. Flames leapt up around him, but failed to penetrate that mysterious barrier that was protecting him. "George!" he shouted. His other desperate plan faded with the realisation that there was another way to free his friend. Now was the perfect opportunity. All he had to do was not screw it up.



George's head snapped around at that shout, and looked him in the eyes. "Ringo!" George shouted, straining harder against his bonds. "Help me!"



Still running, Ringo pulled his sword out of its sheath, and slashed at the tendrils of flame that were starting to surround him. He knew that, even with his barrier, they would soon become so thick that he would be unable to get to his friend.



And then they became that thick. Ringo slashed desperately at the ropes around his legs, but even as he cut them away, more sprang up to take their place. Held in place, he could only struggle harder, cutting each leg free one at a time to take a step, making his way inch by inch towards his friend.



When he was a few short metres away from George, however, the tendrils moved again. They left him free completely but, as he was about to spring forward and free George, they formed up around him. A face of fire stared down at him, surrounding George completely.



The face roared at him, and Ringo could see no sign of intelligence in that steady gaze. At least, he thought with some relief, he wasn't going to have to kill something that could talk. He raised his sword again, and slashed at the face. A blue gash opened up, weeping fire, and Ringo caught sight of George on the other side of it. But then, it healed. Closed up before his very eyes.



Frustration filled him, and he took a small step backwards. How was he supposed to kill something that could heal itself as fast as he wounded it?



The face moved towards him, sensing that its prey had realised its helplessness, its inability to damage it. As it moved, it removed itself from around George. The tattered edges of the wall of flame roared upwards, streaming away like a head-full of monstrous hair. Ringo danced back a few steps as the face lunged, and Ringo noticed that it had anchored itself to George with a thick tendril of flame.



The monster was restricted. Evidently, it could not survive without a host. All he had to do was to cut the monster loose from its host, and his friend would be free.



A course of action dawned, and he drew his dagger. He held it by the tip, and flung it at the face. As he had expected it would, the dagger sailed straight through the face as the tendrils of flame which formed it separated to allow it through.



As it sailed towards him, George raised his hand, and lunged forward. Catching the dagger by its handle, he quickly set to work on cutting the tendril which anchored him to the vampire. Realising the danger it was in, the face turned and headed back towards George again.



Ringo darted forward, and aimed a double handed stroke at the tendril, severing it in one easy stroke.



The face howled in agony, and started to disperse and fade, like a flame removed from its source of fuel. The world swam into focus around them as the flames and tendrils which made up its Self disintegrated and dissolved.



The redness started to fade, and Ringo could feel a warm pair of lips nuzzling his neck. Memories of the time when he lost his virginity flooded through his brain, closely followed by all the rest of what he realised immediately were the remains of his missing past. He spun around, and stared into the warm eyes of his old friend, George.