The Antedicament of Doctor Fancyboots

My name is Sy DuCharacter. This story begins as I arrived to work at the famous gyro shop, Forgotten Gyros… It was the day that the Inspector of Cleanliness, referred to in the biz as the I.C., was going to come to visit. Now, when the usual Inspector comes to visit, it’s not that big of a deal… But I couldn’t remember if this was the day the Lead Inspector was coming to visit or not. And worse, my boss still wasn’t here yet!

My boss, Mr. Venture, was a large and intimidating man. He owned several businesses, one of which being this shop, as he was quite the capitalist. “Nothing Ventured, nothing gained,” he would always say through that dark, bushy beard of his. I'm not sure how much I agree, but to my knowledge, he had become awfully wealthy.

Anyway, let me tell you more about the shop. You might think, being a gyro shop, that all of our ingredients are only ever wrapped in pita bread. But all of our sandwiches, contrary to expectations, have sub versions as well! In fact, it was one of those sandwiches I was working on making when the wall phone suddenly rang.

“Hello! This is Forgotten Gyros. May I take your order?”
“This is Dr. Tom Fancyboots. Is Ad there?”
“Sorry, sir. Mr. Venture isn’t here yet. May I take a message?”
“No, that’s fine. Click.”
“...Sir? When you said click, did you mean to--” and then he hung up.

Suddenly, a noise at the door! Was it my boss? No, it was the inspector, casually holding out his ID and looking around.
“Snoo Pingas. Usual I.C.”
Ah. That's good, then. The usual guys weren't too strict about things.
“Loving the new Ancient Egypt themed sandwiches. Especially the ham-filled Eye of Osiris. Though, you could stand to have some extra meat on the Ankh-- more pork, maybe.”
I nodded at his suggestion, then I finished up the sub I was crafting and went over to turn on the television.

It was on the news channel, which Mr. Venture preferred. I didn't like it all that well. It was all either stuff I already knew or would have come to know shortly anyway. But the TV did help brighten up the room. We had a few lights, but the brightest one had suffered an injury a few days ago and now would blind anyone who looked at it. I decided to leave it off for now and watch the news.

“This is Hank Ormann with Exposition News Network. As you all know, it was 20 years ago today that the zeppelin known as the Emperor crashed, taking away the stored memories from decades of episodes of our citizens. Luckily, the Bureau of Narrative Compliance was swift in restoring many of them, and within months had launched the new database steamship to succeed the Emperor: The Heir. In celebration of the anniversary, and for some brief maintenance, the Heir will be docking at the BNC headquarters today. Please be advised that you may experience some memory loss during this time with symptoms similar to the Riddance.”

Around that time, Mr. Venture burst through the door, holding some sort of mysterious package. He handed it to me, and dashed straight to the phone and punched in some numbers. The package was from the company that made the damaged light fixture, so I figured it was a replacement part, and made my way over to fix it. But I couldn’t help listening in to the call.

“Hello, Tom? Yes, sorry I missed you. Came in a bit late. Inspection day and all. Oh yes, I've heard all about it. Twenty years, huh? I remember where it was like it was yesterday. Oh, that? …Hm, you're right. I can't seem to recall. I'll be there this afternoon. Did you just say ‘Click?’ you know that doesn't actually hang up the--.”

“Hey, boss. Wasn't that a call back to something you weren't present for?” I asked, hanging the lampshade.
He didn't seem to care to answer me as I flipped the repaired light on and walked back behind the counter.

“Sorry, Sy. You're running the shop today. I've got to go help an old friend.”
“Whatever you say, Mr. Venture. The Inspector and I will keep things nice and tidy over here.”
“Appreciate it! See you soon, son!”

Meanwhile, across town in a meagerly furnished studio apartment, the wizard known as Dr. Fancyboots was involved in a bit of a conundrum…

“Rubber or leather… Rubber is waterproof, and has the classic shiny look, but leather is so fashionable and warm… Plus it takes shape better… I really can't decide which I prefer. What do you think, Q?”
“I think you should be back on task, sir,” answered his hat.
“Oh, right.” The wizard refocused himself. “I can't seem to recall the… what was it… that one time, on the mountain, with that one guy… He had that moustache…”
“You mean Mr. Ad Venture, sir? Owner of several local food establishments who ventured into that mountain with you seeking rare ingredients and treasures to fund his businesses?”
“Yes, him. Always a capitalist, that Venture. Well, the issue is, I'm having trouble remembering exactly what went on in that accursed cave.”
“Well, sir, you were both having an episode of lucidity at the time, if I recall. Which means the Bureau of Narrative Compliance would have stored backup copies of those memories in case they got removed by mistake during the Riddance.”
“Well, yes, I suppose. But that ridiculous computer blimp is only for emergencies and mishaps with the Riddance. It's not like I can march right in and ask for some memories back.”
“Today is the 20th anniversary of the crash of the Emperor, sir. In honour of that, its successor will be docking at the BNC headquarters. Perhaps you could sneak aboard?”
“An heist! Wonderful idea, Q! I'll call Ad right away and see what he's up to…”

And indeed, Dr. Fancyboots made the call immediately, to this effect:

“Well, Q, my call to Mr. Venture has been unsuccessful. I'll have to try again in a bit.”
“Wonderful idea, sir. He does seem to only ever answer the second call…”
“Indeed. Or perhaps it's because he's not used to my home phone number? I do wish I could go into the office.”
“Unfortunately, sir, the people in the office are continuing to experience a strange transmogrification in which they become football simulation games featuring popular commentators.”
“Maddening.”
“Exactly, sir. Say, now that I think about it… You were pretty traumatised after that journey. Maybe you’ve just repressed the memories? Perhaps you ran into someone dangerous, like the King of Beasts, Sat--”
“Don’t say his name, Q! You know that’ll invite disaster.”
Dr. Fancyboots was, peculiarly, quite superstitious around the name of the great ruler of all evil and darkness. Before he had time to dwell on that, however, the phone rang.

“Hello, Tom?”
“Ad, old pal! Is that you?”
“Yes, sorry I missed you. Came in a bit late. Inspection day and all.”
“Have you heard the news? The Heir is going to be docking in town today.”
“Oh yes, I've heard all about it. Twenty years, huh? I remember where it was like it was yesterday.”
“Say, do you remember that time we ventured into the mountains? I try to, but critical parts of it just keep cutting out…”
“Oh, that? …Hm, you're right. I can't seem to recall.”
“Do you think you could meet me in my cubicle later today?”
“I'll be there this afternoon.”
“Great, thanks! Click.”
“Did you just say ‘Click?’ you know that doesn't actually hang up the--.” And then he hung up the phone.

“Well, Q, I’d say that’s settled then. I’ll be going into the office today, transmogridironifications or not.”
“Alright, sir. I’ll start your coffee pot ahead of time.”
“Thank you, Q! I don’t know what I’d do without you.”
“You don’t know what you’re going to do anyway, sir. That’s why I’m here.”
“Indeed! Now, Q, how do I get to the office again?”
“...Sir, it is directly across the street, and you go there every day.”
“And yet I never remember it. It seems like I’m rushing out the door with a piece of toast in my mouth every morning, and the next thing I know, I’m two hours into the day at my cubicle, talking to someone!”

One hundred and twenty minutes later, at the desk of Doctor Fancyboots, he greeted the newly arrived Mr. Venture.
“Ah, Ad! There you are. I need your help getting on the Heir to restore a backup of that adventure of ours.”
“Right, well, Tom… I was thinking about it, and maybe it’s better we don’t restore it. Wasn’t that the adventure where we had an encounter with Sat--”
“Don’t say his name! Do you want the father of lies to appear before us today?”
“Right, sorry. Well, I suppose I’ll help you. I daresay I’m curious about the inner workings of that blimp myself.”
“Who wouldn’t be! Right, so, here’s the plan.”

“We’ll sneak onto the roof with the hacked ID card Q made for me. Then, we’ll enter the most important artefact in the BNC-- the Canon. And we’ll wait for them to open up the maintenance hatch, and as soon as they do, kaboom! And we’ll be inside the Heir.”
“Brilliant, Thomas! Alright. I’m with you.”
The two suspicious middle aged men rushed their way to the top of the main stairwell of the Bureau of Narrative Compliance, and once they had reached the roof, burst out onto it in quite a spectacle.

The roof was, at that point, filled with various officials and maintenance men working on the docking of the Heir, so they were altogether unconcerned with the activities of Thomas and Mr. Venture. This allowed the pair to stroll casually over into the canon, and get comfortably inside it, before turning around to find a disappointed woman staring into their faces.
“D-Director Pachelbel! What are you--”
“What am I doing here? Well, Thomas, I’m doing my job. By helping with the docking of the Heir and ensuring the Canon doesn’t get damaged. And you’re doing… None of the above.”
“Well… About that, ma’am… You see…”
“Window of opportunity has arrived, sir! Activating launch procedure!”
“Wait, Q! Not yet! We’re going to--- AAAAAH!”

Director Jennifer Pachelbel, the Director of Canon at the Bureau of Narrative Compliance, had seen many strange things in her life. And been in great danger many times. A concerning portion of both were due to a certain footwear-enjoying graduate. But this took both to new heights. Luckily for the Doctor and Mr. Venture, it took both of them to new heights as well, and they flew past a deftly dodging Ms. Pachelbel and into the maintenance hatch of the Heir.

The balloon-data centre combo was more bustling than ever, with people in rubber suits shifting around and checking the status of thousands of magnetic tapes. At the very front of the room, however, sat someone whose suit was not rubber, but satin. It is he who both Dr. Fancyboots and Ad Venture approached with cautious optimism, while the shiny nameplate on his desk burned into their eyes. A nameplate which read “Captain of the Heir: Gnett Vurke.”

“Mister Vurke, sir! I am Doctor--”
“I know who you are, Thomas. And I know Mr. Venture as well. You both have some of the most interesting episodes on the planet.”
“Yes, so the Doctor and I have come to make a request.”
“Oh?”
“It is as Mr. Venture says. We both were engaged in an adventure on a mountain some while back, which seems to have faded from our memory, so we were wondering if you could allow us to access the backup.”
“Ah, yes. I am aware of such. It is quite dangerous as it is the one where you were assaulted by visions from the Great Evil One. The one known as Sat--”
“Shh! Don’t say his name! But, it’s good you’re familiar. If so, I assume you know where the episode is? So if we could just--”
“Unfortunately, it will be impossible.”
“Thank y-- What?! Why?!”
“Sorry, Dr. Fancyboots. That episode has been taken off the Heir.”

“Taken off the Heir? But the whole point of this place is to have backups of all of our episodes!”
“There is only so much room. Sometimes episodes have to be stored… less conveniently. Especially dangerous ones.”
Mr. Venture began to question. “Less conveniently? So they are stored somewhere?”
“Yes… I suppose I can tell you. They are stored in the Archival Records in the Archival Cave, deep in the Jungle Forest.”
“Simple, then!” Proclaimed the Doctor. “We’ll go to those records!”
“I doubt it’s that simple,” Venture retorted.
“I will let you go on two conditions. First, you take this letter to the keeper of the Archival Records.” He handed an envelope to Dr. Fancyboots. “And second, you take my son, Nathan, with you. He will be your guide.”
“But I have Q for my guide!”
“Ah. That reminds me.” Vurke grabbed the hat off of Fancyboots’ head, and set it on his desk. “I need to make sure you come back to me. Fancy hat will stay on my desk until you return.”
“Those are his terms, Thomas. We have no choice if we want that episode back.”
“Smart man, you are. If only the educated one was as smart.”
“...Fine.” Fancyboots finally conceded, and the two descended the maintenance ladder of the Heir to find Nathan Vurke already waiting for them.

“Hello, sirs! My father just let me know what’s going on. I’m Nathan Vurke, though some have been known to call me Neight.”
“Nice to meet you, Nate. I’m Thomas, and this is my friend, Ad Venture.”
“Hello, son. Your father said you know the way to the Archival Records?”
“Well… I know they’re somewhere in Jungle Forest… But I don't know much more than that. It’s somewhere to the south, I think?”
“Good enough for me!” The Doctor was ever optimistic. “We’ll just go on until we get lucky, I suppose.”
“Well, I have a map, at least. That should point us in the right direction…”
“Actually, it seems to be pointing us in the down direction, if we want to reach the Jungle Forest…”

Before their travels had gone on long, the trio found themselves at the edge of a veritable arboretum. Nathan began to get nervous. “How are we ever going to find the Jungle Forest? I don’t think I’ll be able to see it through all of these trees…”
“Yes, I agree,” added Dr. Fancyboots. “Even though the map says it should be around here…”
“Well, at least that means we shouldn’t encounter any dangerous wildlife,” mused Venture.
But before the words could even escape his mouth all the way, and during the time when they were trying to escape (though his mouth was rather large and a comfortable place to stay), they all saw a serpent slithering across the ground.
“Oh no!” Nathan exclaimed, “It’s a serpent! One of the symbols of Sat--”
He was, naturally, interrupted by the superstitious doctor.
“Don’t you dare say his name! And look closer! He has cards!”

“Cards!” Venture assumed a cautious stance. “I dare say it could be one of the dangerous ones known to inhabit the land… Perhaps a blackjack cobra!”
“Or even a war viper,” added Nathan.
“No,” Fancyboots advised, “Take a closer look. He has… Two jokers and an ace of spades, and he’s setting them face down… What we’re facing here is… a three card monte python.”
“The most dangerous of all!” Venture furrowed his brow. “But I doubt he’ll let us pass without playing his game.”
“Worry not!” The good doctor assured them. “I know their language.”
Doctor Fancyboots reached behind him, and pulled the covering attached to his cloak over the top of his head, just far enough to cast a shadow over his eyes. With that accomplished, he slid up to the snake, and addressed him: “Aye, matey. We landlubbers have ventured here in search of treasure, but we see ye have a challenge laid before us. I take it you’ll send us to Davy Jones if we can’t pick out the Ace?”
“Yessssssss…” responded the apparently speech-impeded reptile.
“So that’s what his language sounds like?” Nathan seemed a bit surprised about the peculiars of it.
“Of course,” the doctor responded. “You see, the thing about Python, is it’s really just Sea under the Hood.”
“Goooooo onnnnn and piiiick your caaaaaard…” the slippery beast advised them.
But before they had a chance to even discuss it, Mr. Venture had already picked up the correct card.
“You may passsss…” said the creature as it slithered away.

“Wow, sir! How did you manage to do that?”
“With this!” Mr. Venture proudly took a miniature man out of his pocket, looking awfully hard-boiled in a sepia fedora and trenchcoat, and smoking on a cigaretteette.
“I always keep him with me just in case.”
“I see!” Even Fancyboots was impressed. “So that’s how you found the ace, Venture? A pet detective?”
“You bet! I always come prepared.”

The trio continued to journey through the trees, and soon encountered their next obstacle: a river. Nathan leaned over the edge to get a look at the rushing water, but as he was doing so he felt something grip his foot, and was quickly washing away! The Doctor and Mr. Venture leapt into action to help him, but began to realise it was too late.
“Don’t worry about me!” Nathan assured them. “Just get to the Archival Cave!”
“But your father will kill me!” Dr Fancyboots tried to protest.
“I’m sorry, Tom. Nothing we can do at the moment. We’ll have to come back for him.”

They barely had a second to bemoan their loss, before a strange woodland creature came up to them. “Hello, gentlemen,” it offered through its large, menacing teeth.
“Ah,” exclaimed the Doctor, “A beaver!”
“No… depressingly not… My performing in school turned out to be terrible, so I never got to use the first letter of the glyph set you use… Things being such, refer to me like this: ‘Bever.’”
“A tragic tale,” Venture had to admit, “But we do not have time to assist you. We have a letter here, but I doubt it is the one you seek. We must deliver it swiftly, and then rescue our friend Nathan.”
“Oh.. I see.. You will not help me… Such is how it ever is… Letter, Neight, then Bever…”
Dr. Fancyboots bent down to pet the rodent, and in doing so, primed himself to be splashed by a newly arriving vessel, sweeping his hood off his head.

Its structure was almost as strange as its occupants: it was two boats stacked on top of one another, and on the bottom sat a man in overalls and a straw hat with a pitchfork and a ram, while above them were suspended what was presumably his pet dog and a leafy vegetable.
“What on earth is that?” asked Venture, for even he had not seen such a contraption before.
“It’s a storied ark,” responded the farmer. “You see, this here river-- the Threshold-- is between two major grazing pastures for my sheep here, so I cross it often. I also have planted cabbage fields on either side, from whence I gain some additional income. My furry friend and I have had trouble crossing this river in the past, having to go back-and-forth with a full boat three times and half full boat once… But now that I have the storied ark, crossing the Threshold is no problem!”
“Wonderful! I always support the cleverness of invention!”
Proud that the doctor had complimented him, the farmer offered them a ride: “Say, place this canine and vegetable on this side of the river, and I’ll ferry you two across for free!”
They gladly complied, and before they knew it (but not extensively so, as they were quite observant), they were on the other side of the river.

Yet another few steps, and they were already to the Archival Cave! The adventure was going swimmingly (especially for Nathan, of course,) and to the two experienced heroes it seemed almost suspicious. But still, it wasn’t nearly as suspicious as the man standing in front of them.
“Greetings, gentlemen! I presume you wish to explore this cave?”
“Well, yes, we do,” admitted Venture.
“I’m Thomas, and this is my friend, Mr. Venture. And you are?”
“My name is Noan O. Feare. But you can call me Feare, if you’d like”
“I would like, and by executive decision, I say Venture would like as well. Now, are you a guide of some sort?”
“I suppose you could say that,” admitted Feare, while leading them deeper into the cave with a lit torch. “I’ve known it since my childhood.”
“How long was that?” questioned the doctor.
“A bit ago. But that’s unimportant. I’m surprised you two came to this cave, what with the rumours and all.”
“The rumours?”
Venture piped up. “Of course! Tom, you haven’t even heard the rumours? Supposedly, they were doing some quarry work in this cave, and they all got killed by a mysterious being they found.”
“What, so some murder-freak was stuck in stone somewhere? I’m not sure I believe that.” Dr. Fancyboots was shaking in his sandals. (If he had boots, he would not have been shaking in them, of course-- he fancied boots far too much to ever wear them, let alone shake in them.)

They continued on through the cave led by Feare, with Dr. Fancyboots denying the rumour the entire time. Venture, however, was more cautious about what he had heard.
“Thomas!” he whispered.
“What is it, Ad?” The doctor did not whisper.
“Quiet! I need to talk to you about something.”
Venture managed to subtly pull Fancyboots aside without their guide noticing, and started to ask him questions.
“Did you notice when that cave in happened? And the rocks just sort of… Bounced off of him?”
“So? Big deal. Maybe he’s rubber and you’re glue.”
“But… he stepped on a stalagmite, and it broke! That’s not normal, Tom. He’s barefoot!”
“I would break, too, if someone stepped on me barefoot.”
“And I’m pretty sure I saw him eat a salamander or two.”

By that time, Feare had noticed what was going on, and turned around to face the two of them.
“Is something the matter, guys?”
“Just having a conversation. Now, what on earth are you trying to say, Ad?!”
“Feare is the mined killer!”
Feare took surprisingly well to the accusation.
“So you’ve figured it out, then…” And he lunged at Doctor Fancyboots, who quickly dodged.
“Hurry, Doctor,” urged Venture, “You’ve got to use a spell!”
“But… How am I to do that without Q! You know my spelling is terrible!”
“Just give it your best shot!”
“Alright! Well, Mr. Feare, I’m sorry it had to come to this… D-I-E.”
With the recitation of the spell complete, it began to have its effect. A giant, cubic gambling apparatus manifested in the cave, which did have the effect of crushing Feare, but also blocked Dr. Fancyboots and Mr. Venture in the cave. Luckily for the narrative, however, they had just reached the door to the Archival Records, deep in the Archival Cave.

Even more conveniently, the Threshold seemed to wash up into an underground pond in the cave, and Nathan was crawling out of it, bringing the party back together. They looked at each other and nodded, before bursting through the door in an overly dramatic manner.

Unfortunately, all that was behind the door was massive walls of tapes, and a rather thin, scraggly fellow who seemed to be managing them. “Ah, the guests I have been expecting! Do you have the letter I am waiting for?”
“Yes, of course!” Dr. Fancyboots pulled the envelope out of his coat, and handed it to the small man.
“You fool! Ahahaha! You have ensured your demise!”
“That doesn’t sound good,” Venture astutely observed.

The small figure opened the packet, and revealed the letter to the adventurers. It was the letter r.
“I fail to see how that ensures my demise,” said a Doctor Fancyboots, who really was rather clueless when he was Q-less.
“You see, with this letter… The Archival Records have become… the Archrival Records. I was your greatest enemy all along, Dr. Fancyboots! And now that you are here, I can restore your memory! The one with the visions of the Ruler of Perdition! The Prince of Beasts! The most dangerous entity in all the land! That’s right I’m going to summon Sat--”
“No, you can’t summon Sat--”
“There’s no way we’ll be able to beat Sat--”
“Impossible, it really is Sat--”

They were all cut off by the roar of the five-headed dragon.
“Who has summoned me… The great beast… Satire.”
Before anyone could answer, the tiny guy had ducked out of sight, and the party was braced for combat.
“You fools… You mere, pitiful mortals… You cannot withstand my power!”
The beast known as Satire took a deep breath, and let out a powerful attack. Dr. Fancyboots and Venture tried to protect themselves with their arms, but it was unsuccessful. Nathan tried to protect himself with the only thing he had on him: a picture of his father.

The beast let out a laugh, and reared back as the adventurers looked at each other. They soon realised. Each of them was now sporting an awfully drawn, comical moustache. They did not have time to laugh, however, for Satire let out a sharp roar.
“You! Young one! What is your name?!”
“N-Neight, sir. Nathan Vurke.”
“And who is that picture of?!”
Nathan looked down at the picture, and sure enough, a comical moustache had been added to it as well.
“It’s a picture of my father, sir. Mr. Gnett Vurke.”
“Your father is Gnett Vurke? The Gnett Vurke?!”
“Y-yes, sir…”
Before most anyone had realised what was going on, the beast vanished in a puff of smoke, leaving Venture and Thomas with their memories as clear as ever, and quite the confused Nathan. “Uh, doctor, what happened there?”
“I’d rather like to know myself,” added Mr. Venture.
“It’s really quite simple!” Dr. Fancyboots took the picture from Nathan and proudly displayed it. “There’s one thing Satire cannot do.”
“What’s that, sir?”

“Make the Gnett Vurke look bad.”