JLR: The End

Part One: Rise


Chapter 1: 2 (Hello and Goodbye)

Alice and Beatrice are left standing as the double doors of Chant's Room of Solitude shut in their faces.

Beatrice: What do we do now?

Alice: We go in there and demand to be heard.

Beatrice: But he said he didn't want to be disturbed.

Alice: Aren't you sick and tired of cleaning up Chant's messes?

Beatrice: It's not so bad.

Alice: Not so bad ? Who has to clean up that disappearing frog's frogpen every time he makes a mess that won't go away?

Beatrice: We do.

Alice: And who has to sweep up the pieces every time the JLR destroys one of Chant's "indestructible" paper golems?

Beatrice: We do.

Alice: And who had to clean out Chant's "Inescapable Glue Pit" after the JLR escaped?

Beatrice: Actually, I ended up doing that all by myself. You "weren't feeling good"...

Alice: Well, that's--

Beatrice: ...but you were feeling good enough to eat the last piece of double fudge cheesecake I had in the fridge !

Alice: Look, let's not go assigning blame, here. The point is Chant is wrong, and we can't let him run over us like this.

Beatrice: We can't ?

Alice: B!

Beatrice: We can't .

With a deep breath, Alice and Beatrice gave each other one last glance. Alice reached for the keypad, but the doors flew open without a touch.

His room was dark, darker than either henchgirl has ever seen. Even at night, he had always left a night light on... just in case. At almost the same time, they both noticed the ceiling; it looked much higher than before. But that would be impossible without major construction, and he had only been back at their super secret base for a few minutes. All of his furniture was gone too, replaced with something they were sure was new: a chair of rectangular stainless steel slabs sitting atop a high, stainless steel pillar.

Though there were no steps or elevator the girls could see, The Chanterator sat in his chair, wordless, motionless. His clothes were different than they had been just moments before. This was the first time they'd ever seen their boss dressed in a tux, or anything nearly as formal. It was all white from top to bottom. Even his dress shoes and socks were pearly white. Only his lips moved when he finally spoke.

The Chanterator: Come in.

Alice and Beatrice hesitated, but their legs seemed to have minds of their own. Without warning Alice and Beatrice found themselves marching in large, hurried strides toward their boss.

The Chanterator: Stop.

And they did, suddenly unable to move.

The Chanterator: My instructions were clear.

Alice and Beatrice: ...

The Chanterator: I ordered you not to bother me.

Beatrice: We're sorry, sir.

Alice, however, would not back down so easily.

Alice: We're tired of being treated like this.

The Chanterator: You came into my Room of Solitude, my sanctuary, when I instructed you to leave me be, to complain about work?

Beatrice: We're sorry, sir.

The Chanterator did not stir. He simply pondered. Then...

The Chanterator: You're fired.

Alice and Beatrice: WHAT?!

He leaned forward and looked down at them. There was something in his eyes, now, that made them shiver.

The Chanterator: I think I should be free to work alone from now on.

Beatrice: But I didn't even want to do this!

The Chanterator: It's not you, it's me. I've changed and grown as a deity.

Alice: Sir, I don't think you've thought this through. We'll give you time to think it over. All the time you need.

The Chanterator: I have considered all possibilities, and have concluded I no longer am in need of your services. As I already told you, you're fired... now burn!

Suddenly, both their bodies erupted in flame. They screamed in pain, searching for a cause and solution. Alice tucked and rolled while Beatrice frantically patted herself down, but the flames would not go out.

Alice: Chant, save us!

Beatrice: Sir, we love--

The flames rose brighter and hotter, enveloping their words. Then, it was over.

Finally, The Chanterator stood, floated down to the ground, and landed before the site of his favorite girls' last pleas. All that remained were two smoky piles of ash covered in their unburnt clothing, the mark of a carefully controlled magic flame. There was no remorse as he removed a speck of dust from his tuxedo, only clarity. With a thought, The Chanterator vanished.

It was time to end the world.

To be continued...