Bobbin Threadbare's Twisted Fanfic

<<A word of explaination on this: Something Awful did a sporking/MST-ing of an extremely bad novel about sentient amusement park rides called Twisted. One of the members in the thread, Bobbin Threadbare, decided to write a fanfic about the character Captain Black, which became something legit-excellent. The first volume was collected, but the second; where he goes into the immensely creative Amusement Park World; sadly has not been to my knowlege, Hence why I post it here.>>

<<The original Something Awful thread: https://forums.somethingawful.com/showthread.php?threadid=3535471
The first volume, collected, to ideally be read first for context: https://docs.google.com/file/d/0BzP0ziF7E9rZRlBlS2xMblkxdWc/edit
The Author's Youtube Page, where you can check out more of his work: https://www.youtube.com/channel/UCkpl-VMsq1m9AcWb2QMFHww>>

<<Happy reading!>>
------
Richard Black awoke slowly, gradually growing aware of himself and then of his senses. His memories filtered in first, back to front: he was Detective Black, Paranatural Department, worked for the police for nearly twenty years, married to Marsha Black for nearly fifteen, had a daughter named Sarah who was working her way through the first stages of adolescence. Tried for a son for years, but eventually gave up.

Black flinched as he remembered his last case. Railrunner, formerly Rodney Philips, had awakened to his true nature, a roller coaster train (of all things) and lost his sense of humanity in what Black considered record time, going on one rampage after another. Dozens died and well over a hundred were injured before Black and his FBI partner, Victor Captain, pieced together Railrunner's strengths and weaknesses: roller coaster trains were fast, strong, quiet when they had to be, regenerated quickly, and they could manipulate objects the same color as their paint job if given a focus; however, they were vulnerable to objects of foreign manufacture, and while they felt joy when they sensed fear, they felt fear when they sensed joy.

In the end, the knowledge had been too late for Black, whose stomach was ripped open when Railrunner escaped from police custody. Some healing Hoodoo powder saved him from dying on the spot, but the weight of his injuries overloaded the dust's magic, making the detective's last gasp only a matter of time. Realizing he was doomed, Black chose to confront Railrunner alone in Mystic Park, whose reflecting pool marked a boundary between Earth and the Park Beyond, home to amusement park attractions of all sorts. In his final moments, Black climbed across Railrunner's body to reach its head as the latter climbed a ferris wheel to shake him off. He grabbed its necklace focus to nullify its powers, then emptied half a magazine of Austrian-made bullets directly into its brain. Slipping as a wounded ankle reasserted itself, Richard Black fell from his perch down towards the pool below and knew no more.

And yet that couldn't have been the end, could it? Rick could still feel the weight of his own body. He could feel himself breathing. True, the pain was all mysteriously gone--even the knee which had been giving him trouble for years was finally quiet--but Black figured that whichever afterlife he'd reached would have been more punctual about announcing where he was. Aside from the amazing lack of pain, Black could feel a comfortable bed beneath him, although it seemed to use something besides springs. He could hear the occasional clink of earthenware pots knocking together and smelled a whiff of incense (something Eastern that Mars could have identified in a second but utterly mystified the detective) every time the wind rattled a set of shutters just over his head. And was that someone bustling around a kitchen table just then?

Taking a deep breath that turned into a yawn, Black finally opened his eyes and took a look around. What confronted him was utterly mystifying. The cottage he was in appeared to be carved from a single, massive tree, its peaked roof covered in rings that marked out the tree's age as much as they proved depth like contours on a map. The contents of the room looked exactly like how Black might have pictured a witch doctor's abode; mysterious jars, pots, and herbs covered every surface and dangled from every wall, appearing to serve as much use as decoration as for ingredients. The strangest thing, however, the thing which struck Black as the most off, was the telltale smoothness and sheen of plastic which covered nearly every object and surface.

Turning his head, Black spotted an elderly woman who was sipping from a large pot on an old-fashioned stove. The woman's hair was completely white and straight, tied into a ponytail, and she wore a simple white gown tied with a gold-flecked rope around her waist. Not a moment after looking, however, Black's psychic power took over and superimposed the image of a white pony with an elegant brass pole that emerged from between its shoulders.

Rick shook his head as the image faded away. Usually his telepathy only gave him the vague outline of a personality and a number of important features, like a person's (self-considered) name, loved ones, and unusual features they were particularly proud or anxious about. It also did so on this occasion: the woman's name was Beatrice La Blanc, she was warm and caring to such a fault that she lived alone to avoid being taken advantage of, and she was self-conscious regarding how much fancier Americans were compared to her. Oh, and if his psychic vision was to be believed, she was also a carousel horse.

Deciding to take things one at a time, Black coughed quietly to get the woman's attention. Beatrice turned, saw him looking at her, and cried, "Ah, so you're awake!" Black couldn't quite place her accent; she rolled vowels around in her mouth like French, but she bit into the hard consonants like German. "You certainly took your time," Beatrice continued as she resumed stirring her pot. "It has been, what, four, five days since you came over? You must have had much trouble on the other side. I have never seen a roller coaster suffer so much from his injuries."

"Roller coaster?" Black repeated.

"Yes. You do know that's what's carved into your focus, yes? You must have noticed the changes when you Awoke; I didn't have to try too very hard to supplement your natural healing. How long have you been Awake, exactly?"

Mistaking her meaning, Black replied, "Not long at all, actually."

"Really? Was there no one to explain your true nature? What happened to your contact, then? And how did you know what sort of portal to use?"

Black shifted on his bunk and felt a weight move across his chest. Holding it up to have a look, he realized that Beatrice had tied Railrunner's focus around his neck. Thinking back to his last moments before waking up, Black remembered that it had snapped off the roller coaster train's neck and was still in his hand as he fell into the reflecting pool--into the portal! Railrunner had called it a "key" before he had tried to murder Black; apparently it was a key that worked for whomever was holding it. Pondering the stylized roller coaster train carved into a crescent moon shape, Rick muttered, "You might say I just fell into it."

"Hmph! I should have a word with your contact, leaving you so clueless. Do you even know this world is called the Park Beyond? What about your true name, do you know that?"

Rick sat up, still amazed at just how effortless it was to do so, considering everything that had happened to his body over the past week. He watched Beatrice as she took one last sip from the pot and then took it off the stove. From what he was feeling from her, she would accept the truth, but she would need to hear every bit of it first. Thus, as Beatrice served her vegetable stew and the two ate, Black related everything that had happened and everything he had worked out about the situation. He explained who he really was, and why he had killed the creature who originally bore the amulet that was now around his neck.

Beatrice listened in silence and sat without moving for some time after Black had finished speaking. At last, she stood and walked to the door. "I need to think about this," she said as she opened the door. "Stay here for now." Beatrice closed the door behind her, leaving Black to wonder whether he really had made the right decision.
-----------
Richard Black's watch was missing, and so he had no way of telling just how long his host was gone. The shadows had perceptively moved across the walls before Beatrice returned, however. Seeing that he hadn't moved from the table, she took a seat across from him, took a deep breath, and began.

"I will start by explaining what a contact would have told you if you had been one of us. As you know, amusement rides don't last forever. Sometimes they break or fall apart, and sometimes their popularity dies away. Sometimes, however, if a ride was very popular and very well loved in its heyday, they don't simply rot away in storage. Sometimes the magic of love touches them and gives them a living form.

"This bit of magic isn't quite enough, however. The rides are given a human form and have the chance to experience life in a way they never could have imagined, but they still feel lonely and abandoned. They can never quite fit in the way humans do among each other." Beatrice's eyes wandered away from Rick as she spoke, reliving her own memories. "No one knows who first discovered the Park Beyond, or how he reached it. The foci are made in this world, are a part of it, and they are needed to make the trip. Perhaps there are other, more difficult ways across, or perhaps he created this world himself. However it happened, he became the first contact. He made many trips into your world to find others like him, like us. He told us what we really were and how to Awaken into our powers, and he brought us here to live in peace. Some stayed here permanently, but others joined his efforts. I myself worked as a contact for ten years. I still watch one of the portals for newcomers, which is where I found you.

"Finding newcomers on their own isn't that rare. Not every contact is as serious about their job as they should be, and sometimes they have to deal with multiple cases at once. Animatrons are usually found in groups, for instance, and carousel horses always herd together." Beatrice smirked at a private memory. "Still, I thought you seemed odd when I saw the focus in your hand; roller coasters are never in groups of more than half a dozen, are more often solitary, and they can be very temperamental, so any contact would have to be very careful when dealing with one. And then there's the matter of Thunderbolt's rebellion."

"Thunderbolt's rebellion?" Black asked.

"Yes. There are two major types of ride in the Park Beyond: gentle rides and thrill rides. Gentle rides like myself are generally peaceful and kind, but thrill rides are aggressive and domineering. So long as the Park Beyond has existed, it has been controlled by one thrill ride or another. Normally this isn't so bad; they push around the lesser rides when they show up, but they usually spend their time fighting with other thrill rides. They all seem to enjoy it, but that all changed when Iron Raptor appeared.

"You said you already know that roller coasters can control things the same color as their skin, yes?" Black nodded. After Railrunner tore his stomach open with his own red blood, how could he ever forget? "Iron Raptor is black. Color is such a subjective thing, isn't it? Not everyone can see every color. Colors can also change with the lighting; something that's red under the sun may be closer to purple in florescent light. But everything is black at night.

"At first, Raptor spent his time in a cave, bothering no one. After some time, however, he realized what his powers could do and he made raids into towns and cities under the cover of darkness. After enough success, he drew others to him, others who had powers that worked well in the day. He deposed the last ruler by challenging her to single combat and then having one of his allies cover the field in darkness.

"Gentle rides didn't think much of this at the time; as I said, the struggle between thrill rides is constant. But Iron Raptor had some different ideas on how things should work. Power wasn't enough for him: he wanted control. That meant having to do everything just the way he said, to pay him respects and give him gifts every single day. Maybe taxes are eternal in the human world, but here there is no need. The Park Beyond provides us with everything we could want; food, shelter, places to play...commerce is more a matter of habit and courtesy than a necessity. For Iron Raptor, though, the having isn't enough. He wants to take."

"So...Thunderbolt's rebellion?"

"One of the other roller coasters has organized a resistance force against Iron Raptor's rule. I am...well, sort of a part of it. The portal I watch is unknown to Raptor's followers, so Thunderbolt has been using it to gather recruits from the human world. Most recently he told me about a very promising new recruit, a red coaster whose power might even rival Iron Raptor's. Even when fully in our ride forms, we have some organic parts hidden away, and the blood that flows through them is always red."

"And then I went and killed him, didn't I?"

"You did. By the sound of things, you may have done us a favor. I have never, not ever heard of any ride doing in your world what Railrunner did! Not even other roller coasters acted so poorly when they Awakened. I doubt his rule would have been much better than Iron Raptor's."

"I doubt he would have won a straight-up fight, either. Railrunner's seats were black," Rick added.

"Still, you've left us one savior short, and you have somehow arrived in his place. Did you know you are the first human to lay eyes on the Park Beyond? Perhaps you can do what we cannot. Perhaps you can defeat Iron Raptor for us."

Black began to shake his head. "Listen, maybe you all aren't as bloodthirsty as Railrunner was, but this isn't my fight. I have a wife and child back home, and I'm sure they'll want to know that I'm still alive! Now, something I can do is contact the FBI when I get back and explain the situation to them. I'm sure there's something they could send to help out--"

Beatrice slammed the table. "No! You are the one who took Railrunner's life, it is only fitting that you should take his place. If you succeed, you will have made up for your actions. If you die, you will have traded a life for a life."

"What about all those people Railrunner killed?" Black argued.

Beatrice folded her arms. "Killing does not justify killing."

Black sighed. Apparently, being a gentle ride meant not knowing why sometimes a life must be taken. "So what's going to stop me from saying yes for now and then just going back on my own?"

"I won't tell you where to dive. You'll understand when you leave."

Rick was prepared to argue the point, but he sensed a strong conviction from Beatrice that her noncooperation would be enough. "Fine. So let's say I do help you folks out. How would I go about doing that?"

"You should seek out Thunderbolt first and explain what happened. There's a town ten miles to the southwest where he's likely expecting Railrunner to show up. Look for either an old man with a thick, white mustache or a long white roller coaster."

"White?" Black muttered. The security cameras at the county jail had been malfunctioning just before Railrunner escaped, and what other color would they have been painted? He'd known Railrunner had confederates when a yellow carousel horse rescued his girlfriend from his second rampage, but the new information went a ways toward explaining some of the inconsistencies.

"If you're ready to leave, your clothes and things are there by the door," Beatrice gestured. Rick smiled, glad to finally wear something beyond his torn and somewhat stained underclothes. Examining his Glock, he saw that the gun was still empty, having spent its full capacity on Railrunner's final stand. He checked his jacket pockets next, and a wave of relief came over him as he felt the handfuls of shrunken magazines and regrowth patches right where he left them. The first seventeen bullets might have proven to be enough, but Black had prepared for the encounter by convincing a mage friend to shrink boxes' worth of ammunition ahead of time, ammunition he needed now more than ever.

As he buttoned up his shirt, Black said, "So if you don't mind me asking, how come you're in human form if you're really a wooden carousel horse?"

Beatrice's eyes widened. "When did I tell you what I was? Well, I suppose I must have given it away at some point. As for why I'm human right now, that's an easy question to answer." She smiled as she held up her hand and wiggled her fingers. "Making soup isn't all that easy when all you have are hooves. Now if I can ask you a question, how did you regenerate so well from your injuries if you're really just a human?"

Black opened his mouth to answer, then closed it again. The last he knew about his injuries was that he had overdosed on the healing powder that was keeping him going in order to combat his evisceration. Between the overdose and the lethality of his combined injuries, the powder started to act erratically, and its failure at a crucial moment was what led to him falling into the reflecting pool and ending up in the Park Beyond. According to Beatrice, it took him four days to recover--far too slow if the Hoodoo powder had become permanent, but far, far too fast if his healing had been natural. But then she also said she supplemented the healing somehow, perhaps with some spell or enchanted herb native to the new world? Magic was an unpredictable force even at the best of times, and mixing spells was always a dangerous idea.

Still, Rick supposed he should be thankful that it saved his life in this instance, even if he had no idea what other consequences might yet be to come. "Just a bit of magic and some awfully good luck," he answered.

"Then I hope for all our sakes your luck will continue," Beatrice responded, opening the door as Black tied his shoes. "To be a human in a world full of amusement rides...I think you'll need it."
-------
When Richard Black stepped outside, he understood immediately why Beatrice knew he wouldn't find the portal on his own. The tree house stood in the middle of a massive swamp; bogs and ponds bordered by thin strips of land and plant life spread out as far as Black could see. "We call it Swamp Land," Beatrice added to Rick's thoughts as she leaned against the door frame. "I've heard some claim it is bigger than the Florida Everglades, but no one's managed to chart the whole thing. Only one part of one of these pools is the portal back to Earth. It's how we've kept it safe from Iron Raptor, and it's how I'm going to keep it safe from you."

A thought occurred to Black. "What about the other portals?"

"All controlled by Raptor's creatures. All rides who come through, whether new discoveries or contacts, must swear allegiance to Iron Raptor or be killed on the spot. You might try one of them, but you'd have to strike a heavy blow against Raptor's forces in the process..."

"I get the picture," Black replied. Turning back to his surroundings, he had to admit that "Swamp Land" had a very strange kind of beauty. Rick had visited the Everglades once during a family vacation, and so while the cypress and palm trees looked familiar enough, they competed directly with an odd number of pine and fir trees which would have been more at home in northern climates. In addition, many of the plants looked distinctly off, just a bit too symmetric, a bit too perfect, and a bit too shiny to be natural. Turning back to the tree house, he saw that the massive oak bore the same mark of artificiality, a mark he now realized matched the sheen of plastic he had noticed while inside.

Seeing Black's look of amazement, Beatrice smiled and said, "Welcome to the Park Beyond. Everything that is or ever was a part of any amusement park, theme park, carnival, circus, or world, state, or county fair has a place here. What is artificial there is natural here, and what is a prop in your world is real in ours. Would you like to see where your stew came from?" She gestured over to a perfect rectangle of black dirt that stood a few feet away from the tree house where several neat rows of vegetables were growing. Black could identify tomatoes, cabbages, and carrots, but there were at least half a dozen more. Beatrice walked over and pulled a carrot out from the end of the line and handed it to Black. "Try it. You already had some earlier."

Rick gave the vegetable a dubious look as he brushed off clods of dirt. To every appearance, the carrot was fake: it was perfect and straight, it had no branching roots, the color was a uniform orange, the skin was smooth and warm in his hand, and the weight matched that of a hollow plastic toy rather than a real plant. Looking closely, he even saw a seam running down its length. Still, Beatrice was feeling more pride than humor, plus he had eaten carrots in the stew, so he gave it a tentative bite near the thick end.

Black was utterly shocked when the plastic coating seemed to melt away and his teeth bit into the tough flesh of a real carrot. He pulled the vegetable away as he chewed and admired the cartoonishly straight bite marks his teeth left behind, the plastic appearance extending to the plant's interior. "How--"

"Everything in this world that is fake is also real," Beatrice repeated. "Everything that was manufactured or prepared in your world is natural in ours. Have you seen the corntails?" She pointed to a nearby stand of what Black had thought were unusually thick cattails. Coming nearer, however, he realized that the reeds were tipped by what were unmistakably corn dogs. Plucking one from its stem, he tore off the top and saw that, sure enough, a frankfurter was hiding underneath. Curious, Black ate the part he pulled off and found that, although the temperature was lukewarm, the corn dog had been fried to perfection.

"You shouldn't eat that," Beatrice warned. Black stopped chewing and looked back at her. "It's high in cholesterol."

Rick laughed and finished swallowing. "You sound just like my wife. She always manages to find the one guy selling salads no matter where we go, and she always makes us eat them no matter what we say."

Black was about to take another bite of the forbidden food, but then it hit him. His wife wasn't here to stop him, never would be here. Mars probably thought he was dead, and if things went poorly in Park Beyond, she would be right. There was a very good chance that he would never see her again, and all the little gripes he had built up over the past fifteen years seemed to vanish into mist when set against that one solid idea. Rick felt grateful to Special Agent Captain for making him say goodbye to his wife, but at that moment he wanted nothing more than to say hello just one more time.

And then there was Sarah. Black had always laughed at the old stereotype of the gun-toting father looming over the young boyfriend, but as his own daughter grew interested in boys her age, he suddenly understood exactly how those fathers felt. It didn't help that Sarah was his one and only, and Rick wasn't ashamed to admit that, after giving up on a second child, he and Mars had spoiled the poor girl rotten. How would she get by without him?

Black felt Beatrice's hands on his shoulders. He hadn't cried, but it had been a close thing. "I know this must be hard for you," she said. "You must miss your family terribly. I hate doing this to you, I do, but I must, for all our sakes. Iron Raptor has murdered many families since he took power. Some did not please him enough when they had no more to give, and some he killed simply for the pleasure of their pain. Your family is safe now; ours are not." Beatrice turned Black around to look into her eyes. "I was one of two dozen carousel horses when I first came to Park Beyond. I was always a solitary mare, and I left them to become a contact when they settled into Blancterre, a town many kilometers from here. Iron Raptor visited it a few months ago. No one knows what angered him, but many died before he was satisfied. Out of two dozen horses, there are now only six, including me." Watching the tears stream down Beatrice's face, Black could no longer keep his own in check.

"Your family is safe, and mine can never come back. But you can protect those who still live. You must." Beatrice swallowed a sob and forced herself to become calm again. "Find Thunderbolt. Protect us, Richard, like you protect the people of your city. Do this and you can go home."

Detective Black took a deep, shuddering breath, wiped his eyes, and nodded. Beatrice gave him directions to the nearest settlement, Cajun Town, but when he asked about provisions, she smiled and said, "I told you already, Park Beyond provides everything we need. This house was already here when I found it. You will see. Go, now, before you run out of light." Shrugging, Black began the long hike. "Good luck! I will pray for your safety!" Beatrice La Blanc called after him. Before long, she was nothing more than a white speck behind a wall of trees, and then she disappeared.
------
There were times during his walk that Richard Black could have sworn he was still on Earth. Birds still chirped in the canopy, squirrels still raced up tree trunks, and mosquitoes still attacked every bit of exposed skin. The plastic trees didn't appear too off so long as Black didn't look at them directly, and there were even convenient walkways to take him across the less solid areas of the swamp. Other times, however, he would spot yellow rubber ducks sleeping in circles or small plastic frogs lined up on the shore trying to jump into fast-moving glass-sided lily pads.

Black noticed something else that was off as his walk dragged on. Despite having never walked for a mile straight since his days as a beat cop, let alone ten, his bad knee still wasn't bothering him. Not only that, but his back, which had never owed him any favors, was also doing just fine. Even his legs didn't feel a bit tired after five straight miles without a break. Was this endurance a feature of Park Beyond, or some continuing side effect from whatever mix of magic had saved his life? There were still plenty of questions without answers, and considering their impact on his health, they worried Black. Still, for the moment they seemed to be only positive, and there was nothing he could do even if they weren't.

The shadows were thick by the time the detective reached Cajun Town. The village looked nothing like what Black had expected, neither in size nor in nature. Emerging from a copse of willows, Black found himself at one end of a long line of building fronts: rather than being full structures, each building was only the front-facing wall of an old-fashioned wood or brick two or three story store in the style commonly seen during the American frontier. Every storefront was painted in garish pastels across the front, but the backside was unpainted wood and support beams. The only exception was the squat concrete bunker sitting past the far side of the street, set off to one side from the line of buildings and nearly fading into the forest that surrounded the town on every side.

By far the strangest things, however, were the lights and sounds coming from within the false buildings. Looking at one from the side, it was clear that the structures took up hardly a foot in width, but the windows on the front seemed to show lit, occupied rooms inside. Although the street itself was empty, the tinkling of distant music and conversation clearly echoed between the flat walls. Remembering Beatrice's warning that "everything fake is real," Detective Black took a deep breath and opened the door to a mauve building whose tankard sign promised a drink within.

Sure enough, instead of seeing the back of a painted wall and the forest beyond it, Black found himself in a large room with the strangest mixed crowd he had ever blundered into. Half the building was set up with the standard bar and tables for humanoid occupants, but the rest was given over to stranger accommodations suitable for rides small enough to fit through the door without shifting to their human forms. For the most part this meant carousel animals and nonhuman animatrons, but Black also spied a go-kart which seemed to be on a date with a bumper car. On a two foot stage along the back wall a band of bears was playing a gusty bluegrass tune whose lyrics Rick couldn't pick out from their heavy Appalachian accent. The bar smelled like sawdust and whiskey and everyone seemed to be laughing and having a good time.

Every noise stopped when the patrons spotted Detective Black standing by the door. Every eye turned to watch him and every set of lungs seemed to hold their collective breath. Black could read the fear and distrust in every mind as though they had written the words in permanent marker across their foreheads.

Deciding to take things easy, Black sat on the nearest stool to the bartender, a portly man in a white shirt and embroidered black vest with a carefully trimmed beard. Once again the detective felt a rush of vertigo as the image of a black antique car made of fiberglass and steel imposed itself over the bartender, only to disappear a moment later. Curious, Black took a look around the room and concentrated on each individual in turn, just as though he were trying to read their personalities. Sure enough, for every human he looked at he could see their ride form, and for every ride he saw the human they could become.

"What'll you have?" the bartender, Al, repeated.

Tearing himself away from his newfound insights, Black replied, "Bourbon on the rocks, if you've got it." Al nodded and moved to get a bottle as the rest of the bar quietly turned back to their own conversations. The band also started up a new song, but this one was much quieter and darker than what they had been singing before. Black took a second look around the room as Al poured out his glass. The detective saw plenty of wary looks in his direction as the patrons talked in hushed, broken tones, but he could find no one answering to Thunderbolt's description.

Black felt mildly surprised as he sipped his whiskey. Most bourbons he'd ever had tasted of oak charcoal with a hint of sweet corn, but the drink in front of him was remarkably sweet and just a bit fruity, perfectly suited for the sort of party that was going on before he had entered rather than the dismal discussions taking place behind him now. Waving the bartender back over, Black asked, "You mind if I ask who makes this stuff?"

"Makes it?" Al asked, confused. "It comes with the bar."

"Really? Doesn't it ever run out?"

"No, it's always back the next day. Er, how long have you been around here, friend?"

"Oh, not long. Say, you mind if I ask you a question? Do you know a man--a fellow around here, looks like either a white coaster or a thin old man with a big mustache?"

Al, who had been almost smiling at the detective's ignorance, suddenly dropped a blank expression over his face. "No one here like that, friend."

Detective Black didn't have to be psychic to know Al was lying. Rick figured that all strangers were treated as agents of Iron Raptor until proven otherwise, and so getting a straight answer would be a matter of showing his trustworthiness. Fortunately, this was hardly the first time Black had ever conned his way into someone's good graces, and he happened to know a few things that the bartender likely didn't. Black took an exaggerated look around the tavern, then pulled out the roller coaster pendant he had kept hidden under his shirt. He couldn't help smiling as Al's eyes widened.

"You were right about me being a new arrival, Al. It is Al, right? Short for Electric Buggy Seven? Thunderbolt said you might know where to find him before we got separated."

Al leaned in. "Thun--he said you went mad, or else you were dead!" he whispered excitedly.

Rick smiled. "Do I look dead or crazy to you? I just had some...debts that needed settling before I came here. So you know where I can find him now?"

"The yellow shoe shop across the street. Ask for the most exciting shoes in the store. And can I say how--how glad I am that you made it after all!" Al beamed. "Your drink is on the house, sir."

"Cheers." Detective Black raised his glass and took another sip. A bourbon this fine deserved to be savored.
--------
Detective Black followed Al's instructions at the cobbler's shop and let an excitable teacup named Terry lead him up to an unremarkable bedroom on the second floor. The old man who stood up from the seat by the window looked strangely at home in the faux-frontier town. Thunderbolt was tall and lean, his wavy hair and mustache were an almost bluish white, and his white shirt and gem-speckled vest looked to be period-authentic for the Wild West. All he needed were a pair of tiny spectacles and Black would have sworn Thunderbolt was a well-to-do frontier banker. That, and a stocky white roller coaster train themed with electric blue lightning symbols along the sides.

He was also unhappy to see the detective. "Who are you? How'd you get Terry to let you in?" he demanded.

Rick took a deep breath. "That's a long story. Let me start by saying you might recognize this necklace I've got." Black pulled the pendant off and threw it over to Thunderbolt, whose eyes widened as he realized what he was holding. "Now that I've got your attention, I think we ought to sit down. This is going to take a while, and you'll need to hear the whole thing."

Detective Black began by describing who he was and how he came to be assigned to the case of the red roller coaster. He also took the time to explain in detail the casualties caused by Railrunner during its various rampages and the reasoning behind every act law enforcement agents performed. Black ended with the tale of his final confrontation with Railrunner on the side of the ferris wheel and how he was rescued by Beatrice, who demanded he help the Resistance before he would be allowed to go home. One thing that he left out, however, was how he had discovered the connection between fear and joy in the roller coaster train's mind.

Thunderbolt frowned more than once during Black's explanation, but he did not interrupt him. When Black began describing Railrunner's joyride down Jefferson Avenue, he turned away to watch the growing darkness through the window and didn't turn back until the detective explained how he found his way into Park Beyond. When Black caught up to the present and fell silent, Thunderbolt took a moment to gather his thoughts before responding.

"I suppose I owe you the rest of the story. You already know that my associates and I were in your city to recruit Railrunner. The yellow carousel horse who rescued Railrunner's girlfriend? Her name is Janice. She isn't here right now; I sent her on to our reporting cell to let the Resistance know the red coaster likely won't be coming. I suppose you've confirmed he isn't. Terry is the other one who came; you've already met him.

"The reason I went after Railrunner is because he was a red roller coaster train, which meant he could control blood. All us rides are at least a little organic, regardless of which form we're in, and that means he could've torn out Iron Raptor's insides even faster than Raptor's cronies could've dropped darkness on the battlefield. It didn't even matter that his seats were black; we would've painted them white. That's how us thrill rides kept Raptor at bay at first, before he found the swing who calls the night down regardless of the time of day.

"I'm afraid I may be partly to blame for what Railrunner did. I was perhaps a bit too excited at finally finding a trump card to deal with Iron Raptor, and I forgot just how desperate and lonely it feels before someone finds you and brings you to the Park Beyond, and how little control you have over yourself when your power is first Awakened. I should have waited until we were on this side to do it, but I...I was impatient."

"So why didn't you leave after the first night? Save us all a lot of trouble," Black responded.

"That was mostly Railrunner's doing. He refused to leave his girlfriend behind. We also needed to get him a proper focus, and Iron Raptor has a stranglehold on new pieces made on this side. I knew of an old roller coaster who died in the human world, though, and his focus had wound up in a museum as a curiosity. You were right that we broke in and took it the night of the breakout, detective, and that I disabled the cameras to sneak in and get it to Railrunner. Please believe me, though, I didn't expect him to attack you and the other guards like that. He could have gotten away without killing anyone. I told him to do just that."

"You expected him to run away without getting any kind of revenge? After what happened the two nights before?" Black asked. Thunderbolt sighed and turned away.

"Most of us aren't bloodthirsty monsters, detective. Most of us think it's enough to get a good fight out of those willing to give one. Iron Raptor and--and Railrunner are the exceptions, not the rule. Rides are dying every day on this side thanks to him. I suppose I felt that a few humans dying here or there were acceptable losses to stop the massacres we have to face."

"You can understand how I wouldn't think the same thing," Black dryly replied.

Thunderbolt nodded without turning back. "I guess I can only wonder what would've happened if Railrunner had made it over here alive. He insisted on remaining behind, by the way. Said his 'revenge' wasn't complete after killing the few guards at Mystic Park. I suppose he didn't notice how one of their bullets had passed clear through him, or else he thought it was a fluke. I noticed, though. That's how I knew he wouldn't be coming through, blood powers or not. I considered pushing him through, but he could've done the same to me as he did to you, and he was angry enough that I figured he would if I provoked him."

The old man finally looked back into Black's eyes. "I suppose it wasn't a total loss, though. You must be a formidable human to take on a roller coaster and win, and if you did so once, perhaps you can again."

"Not that I have a choice," Rick muttered.

"There are many times in life when we are forced down a path we do not choose. Just tell yourself this is one of them and do the best you can." Thunderbolt gave Black a tired smile and stood up. Reaching into a pocket, he pulled out a handful of quarter-sized brass tokens and a few yellow raffle tickets.

"You'll need some money if you want to get around Park Beyond safely. Travel is restricted, but the guards are easy to bribe." The old man counted out a number of tokens and handed them to the detective. Taking a closer look, he saw they were stamped "Park Beyond" on one side with the image of a generic smiling face on the other. "These coins are the basic currency on this side," the roller coaster explained. "They weren't always necessary, but Iron Raptor forces us to use them so he has something to tax." Next, Thunderbolt handed Black six tickets. The only thing printed on them were the word "TICKET" and a seven-digit number along one side. "The coins come out of arcade dispensers at a set rate per day, but to get tickets you need to prove your skill at the arcade games. The games are all fairly hard, so tickets are worth around five coins each. Of course, Raptor's men control all the coin dispensers, and if they see you doing well at the games, they'll force you to trade in your tickets one-for-one. If you're any good yourself, make sure you have another Resistance member present to distract the dispensator."

Detective Black thought for a moment. "Couldn't you just...cheat? You know, climb onto the basketball game and dunk the ball, that sort of thing? Or, hell, just break the damn thing open and get at the tickets that way?"

Thunderbark shook his head, disgusted. "The machines don't work if you don't use them properly, and they don't break so easily as they do on your side. Even Iron Raptor himself needs someone to be good at the arcade games before he can steal their tickets."

"Well, what about getting some straight from the source? I saw a maintenance shack out on the far end when I came into town."

"Maintenance shack?"

"Yeah, that big concrete bunker off to one side from the main road. Sticks out like a sore thumb."

Thunderbolt furrowed his brow, puzzled. "The only buildings in Cajun Town are false fronts. I have no idea what you're talking about."

Detective Black smiled as he began to understand. Of course the amusement rides wouldn't understand the kind of work it took to maintain the illusion of their world, just like how the guests at an amusement park carefully ignored all the employees and back entrances when they didn't have to think about them. As far as they were concerned, the bourbon restocked itself, the carrots regrew overnight, and the coin dispensers had an unlimited supply. But the hidden world that supplied the visible did exist, and the concrete building at the end of the street was the proof. Perhaps it was because he was human, or perhaps it was because he was a detective and used to getting behind normally closed doors, but Richard Black could see the employee-only entrances and, if he was right, he'd be able to make the Resistance amazingly wealthy in a single stroke.

Standing up, Detective Black dusted off his pants and got ready to leave. "Go buy us the best jambalaya in town," he directed Thunderbolt. "Tell 'em it's on me. When I get back, I'll be the richest asshole in this whole damn world."
-------
The sun had long since set when Detective Black set off for the concrete building at the edge of town, but there were enough electric street lights that he was able to find the structure by the black silhouette it left on the forest behind it. Black had trouble searching the sides for a door, but eventually found one by using the faint glow of his cell phone. Out of curiosity, he checked the screen, but just as he suspected it informed him that he was out of the service area.

The door was locked, but a few good kicks broke the latch. Black fumbled around for a light switch, then blinked in pain as his eyes adjusted to the bright florescent panels that lit the interior. When he could finally see again, the detective found that the building was just what he'd suspected: a series of connected rooms were lined floor to ceiling with shelves, cardboard boxes, and wooden crates. A large steel shutter in the floor of the largest room caught his interest, along with the accompanying manhole, but Black busied himself with hunting through the shelves and boxes until he found exactly what he was looking for: a medium-sized box stacked full of reels of yellow raffle tickets, still sealed in a protective plastic bag. Rick considered taking the entire box with him, but decided against it when he remembered they were supposed to be money in this world. Two spools hidden under his jacket would have to do for now.

"Excuse me, sir, you're not supposed to be here."

At the sound of the unknown voice, Detective Black dropped the tickets and spun around, hand on his pistol and heart pumping overtime. He found himself face to face with a nondescript man half his size dressed in a plain green coverall with the name "Justin" stitched onto the left breast. The short man had his arms crossed and looked plainly annoyed, but appeared unarmed beyond the tool belt around his waist. What made Black most uneasy, however, was the fact that he couldn't read him. During his years on the force, Black had found that his psychic power worked on all unprotected humans and near-humans, such as vampires, werewolves, and ghosts, but he had on occasion met fey spirits and extraterrestrials, and in neither case had his telepathy worked. Whatever the person in front of him looked like, Detective Black knew he was not--and never had been--human.

Still, the situation itself was hardly unfamiliar to the detective, and he found his hand reaching for his badge out of instinct. Pausing for a moment, he decided that it was at least worth a shot, and completed the action. "Detective Richard Black, Paranormal Department," he announced, holding his shield out for the unknown creature to inspect.

"Oh! Excuse me, sir!" Justin replied, surprising Black with a respectful bow. "We don't get many visitors back here. May I ask what your business is?"

"I, um, I need to speak with your supervisor. It's a confidential matter."

"Certainly, sir. Let me just finish my delivery and I'll take you down to him." The detective followed the short man back to the large room, where he now saw a clean, freshly painted yellow forklift laden with a large pallet of secured boxes. Justin climbed onto the forklift controls that were sized perfectly for him and drove it over to the far wall, where he dropped the stack and reversed back onto the elevator platform which had emerged from the metal shutters.

Justin waved Black over. "Please come stand next to me on the lift, Detective." Once he had done so, the man turned and pressed a button on the wall behind him. "Watch your arms, sir. This lift has no safety rails."

With a jolt the elevator dropped down into a long tunnel. As the shutter closed above them, a series of amber lights flickered on along the walls, giving Black a sense of just how many hundreds of feet below the surface they were going.

After Black had popped his ears twice, the lift clattered to a halt and another set of shutters whispered open in front of the two occupants. Justin carefully drove his surprisingly quiet forklift over the lip and partway down a ramp which led into a massive warehouse, then pointed off to an elevated office that overlooked the chamber from the opposite wall. "Just follow the catwalks around the edge until you reach the office. If the boss isn't there, his secretary will know where to find him. Now if you don't mind, I've got some more deliveries to make tonight."

Black nodded and let the operator continue down into the warehouse. The catwalks were easily accessed from a staircase whose stairs were so small and close together that the detective was forced to take them two at a time. The walkway had enough room above it that Black could stand straight, but the rails only came up to his knees, leaving him somewhat anxious about getting too close to the edge. From his vantage point, he saw a large number of other workers in the warehouse, some on foot and some in forklifts, all of whom looked and dressed almost identically to Justin. Black also noticed that he was getting more than a few stares in his direction and hurried over to the office.

Detective Black was forced to duck and squeeze sideways through the office door, and the paneled ceiling was just a bit too low for him to stand erect. The man behind the secretary's desk was also dressed in a green coverall, although this one had "Kyle" stitched above the breast pocket. "Excuse me, sir?" Kyle asked. "What are you doing here? This area is authorized for gnomes only." Feeling more confident, Black flashed his badge again and identified himself. Kyle acted more puzzled than differential, however. Pressing a button on an old-fashioned intercom, he said, "Hey, Boss? I've got a...Detective Black here to see you?"

"Detective?" the intercom crackled. "Send him in, I suppose." Kyle shrugged and waved towards the door leading in.

The man standing behind the large desk in the inner office looked just the same as every other gnome Black had seen, except that the words "Warehouse Boss" were written where his name tag would have gone. However, a glint of thoughtfulness in the boss's eyes led Black to suspect that he might understand the situation better than any of his underlings could.

"Good evening, Detective Black," the gnome greeted him, stretching out a hand which Rick shook. "My apologies if anyone gave you a hard time, but it's very rare for us to get any visitors. Possibly unprecedented, but we've been around so long it can be hard to keep track sometimes. Normally, the inhabitants of this world are unable to see us gnomes or our outposts, let alone reach the Factory and arrange a visit with a foreman such as myself. Might I ask how you managed it?"

"I'm, er, not an amusement ride. I'm a human," Black explained awkwardly. "And I'm a detective. I figure it's one of those things that lets me see you guys."

The foreman nodded sagely. "That makes sense. We don't get too many of any of those things. Well, now that you're here, what did you want?" Rick scratched his chin, still trying to process everything he had seen. "Say, how'd you like a tour?" the gnome offered.

Deciding it could only help, Black accepted. Grinning at the prospect of showing off, the foreman led the way out of his office. "It would seem the detective wants a tour of the Factory," he informed his secretary. "Hold the fort while I'm gone." With a wave, the gnome strutted out onto the catwalks and opened a door that led further into the complex.
-------
As he led Detective Black through a claustrophobic concrete corridor, the foreman began his tour. "You've already seen the warehouse where we ship our products out into the world at large. You must have come down on one of our three magic elevators which connect to facilities across the globe. We're careful to remodel and restock only after midnight when the local rides are all asleep, but what with how your average planet works the lifts are in full use every hour of the day."

"Connect anywhere, eh? So would I be able to use the lifts to get around?" Black asked.

"I'm sorry, Detective, but the elevators are for authorized personnel only. If you didn't get in here with the help of an authorized gnome, then I assure you your use of the lift was a fluke in timing. Besides, you'd need the seven-digit code that connects our warehouse to each facility, and we don't leave those lying around just anywhere."

"What about that manhole that was next to the elevator?"

"Maintenance ladder. For maintenance gnomes only." Black nodded his understanding and the foreman opened the door at the far end of the hallway. Following the gnome, Black found himself on another catwalk that encircled a massive room filled with assembly lines, pressing machines, pallets of boxes, and identically dressed gnomes directing devices whose functions the detective could only hope to guess at. "This is our product packaging center!" Black's guide declared, sweeping his arm across the room with a grandiose wave. "Here we merge our various finished products with all the bottles, cans, boxes, and packages we craft to house them for final consumption. From here it's just a hop, skip, and jump away from the warehouse and final delivery. Follow me, detective!"

Over the next several hours, the warehouse foreman showed Detective Black through an uncountable number of chambers and factories. Everything Black could conceive of was created in one place or another, from artificially aged bourbon (along with carefully weathered bottles to house the liquor) to plastic carrots to building facades which somehow housed real buildings in the empty space behind them. Even the "real" trees Black had encountered during his hike were carefully cultivated in underground greenhouses before being transplanted to painstakingly determined spots on the surface. "Every need and want of our clients is taken care of here," the foreman bragged. "When a new client arrives with new expectations, every gnome knows how to craft what they desire before the end of the day and full implementation is in place before the end of the week. I'll admit our production picked up after the Industrial Revolution got up to speed in your world, but the dedication has been here since day one."

"So what do the rides do for themselves?" Black asked as he watched a crane operator lift a wide building assembly onto a flatbed truck. "I saw one acting as a bartender before I came down here."

"Oh, we give them places to play around in, both as humans and as their other forms. Still, playing isn't enough for most clients. They want to contribute, to feel useful to their societies. That's something I can understand, myself. Some of them work as entertainers or artists, but most of them pick a goods distribution center--sorry, a 'shop'--and act as proprietor and salesperson. They then pay each other in arcade tokens and everyone feels better about themselves. They seem to be using them more often now than ever before, too."

"Hmm. So you said earlier that you've been ready to go since 'day one,' right? You mind if I ask when 'day one' was?"

The gnome frowned and considered the question. "None of us really know. We all just appeared one day, fully aware of ourselves and the jobs we had to perform for our clients. We're all of us perfectly skilled in whatever job we have to do when we do them, and no more. Secretaries and bosses like myself are smarter than the rest, and I think the other bosses sometimes wonder how we got here like I do, but we're all too busy to talk about anything but our work during our meetings. I figure there must be some higher power out there, mortal or immortal, who built this place as a haven for amusement rides and other communally loved objects, but I just can't figure out what that power might have been."

Black and the gnome stared out into the factory for a while, each lost in his own thoughts.

"How would you like to see our latest secret project?" the foreman asked, regaining his chipper attitude. "Of course, it's not that much of a secret considering the only people who know about our headquarters facility are us gnomes--oh, and now you, Detective--but we do try to keep an air of mystique around our big projects. Come on, it's not far!"

The gnome ran off and Detective Black hustled to keep up with him. Chasing him down another branching corridor with so many lefts and rights that Black would have been lost on his own, the two finally came to a stop in front of yet another unassuming steel door. This time when the foreman opened the door he gestured for Black to enter first. Moving inside, Rick found himself in the largest hollow space he had ever seen. The ceiling faded out into a dark, unknown haze, the lights lining the walls so distant that they turned invisible. In the center of the tremendous chamber sat a number of skyscrapers, perfectly at home in any city center Black had seen, but utterly dwarfed by the room they were currently stored in. Half of the buildings seemed finished, but the rest were in various stages of construction. Gnome workers busied themselves on the steel girders and concrete walls, looking like nothing less than a swarm of tiny green ants in the distance.

"We're calling it Urban Land!" the foreman explained. "It's up to the clients to come up with a final name, of course, but it fits with the scheme they usually use. Just think of all the possibilities! Skyscraper drop towers, ten-story carousels, rooftop swings! We're setting up an elevated track for slow trains and an exciting undulating subway for roller coasters! And oh, the malls will be tremendous! We're really expecting Urban Land to be a big hit with our clients. I'd bring you in closer, but this is an active construction site." The gnome turned back to Detective Black with a grin. "This concludes our tour of the factory. Did you have any questions?"

"Yeah, I've got one," Black responded. "It sounds like you're aware of what happens on the surface. You know about Iron Raptor then, right? How he's basically enslaved the other rides and kills them for shits and giggles? It sounds to me like you could stop this whole thing in its tracks by moving resources away from him and to the resistance. Why don't you?"

The spirit shrugged noncommittally. "It's not our place to say how our clients live their lives. If Urban Land doesn't take off, we'll adjust things until it does, or take it down and replace it with something better. It's our job to make this world as pleasant a place to exist as possible. If our clients wish to make things unpleasant for each other, that is their decision to make.

"I'll tell you what I can do, though. I'll let the other gnomes know that you are authorized to use anything you find in one of our aboveground facilities. It's all there to be used by our more...traditional clients anyhow, so I don't see any harm in letting you get some early access. Just don't bring any friends in or things will become a mess. Alright?"

"Yeah, alright," Black agreed, and shook the gnome's hand again.

The trip back to the warehouse was uncannily fast, and the foreman quickly brought the gnome Justin back in to deliver Black to the surface. Once there, Black waited around for Justin to leave, then carefully copied into his notebook a scrap of paper he had seen just above the lift doors which said, "Cajun Town: 0812694." The detective almost left without remembering the reason he had come in the first place, but encountering the open box and fallen ticket spools reminded him.

On his way back into town, Detective Black took stock of himself. He noted that his legs still felt fine even after all the walking he had done, but he was almost relieved to feel dead tired after the long day. In his experience, less magic was always the better option, regardless of how helpful it seemed.

Thunderbolt was still awake when Black reentered his room. "Where were you?" the old man asked. Your jambalaya got cold hours ago."

"Oh, nowhere much," Black replied with a sly grin. "Just getting these." The detective's smile widened as he watched Thunderbolt's reaction when he produced the two rolls of tickets from under his coat.

"God in Heaven have mercy," Thunderbolt muttered as he took the tickets almost reverently from Black. "Where could you even find this many unguarded tickets? They look almost new!"

"I wouldn't say they were unguarded, exactly, but let's just say I have my ways. I doubt you'd believe me anyhow. Just be glad you got them."

"Unfortunately, I can't be all that glad you found this many tickets. Having this much wealth in one place will draw suspicion and make us everyone's targets, even those not associated with Iron Raptor. It'll take a lot of effort to distribute these to the point where they don't draw too much attention."

"It's still a hell of a lot better than nothing, though," Black answered, crossing his arms.

"Language, please," Thunderbolt chided. "But you're right, this is much better than nothing. My apologies. It's just not the game-changer I was hoping for. Iron Raptor uses force to impose our economy upon us, rather than the other way around. It's late now; we'll figure something else out after a good night's sleep. You can use the room at the far end from the staircase."

Detective Black thanked the older man and went to find his room. The next day promised to be just as eventful as the one just ended, but Rick at least had the comfort of knowing where his bed came from and just how well the sheets were made.
--------
Detective Black woke up and found a covered plate on a tray by his bed. Inside was a pair of Belgian waffles with strawberries and syrup, sausages links, and three eggs cooked sunny side up. While not quite what he'd call a perfect breakfast, Black was still impressed by the meal and ate heartily. After he finished, he walked downstairs and followed the sound of conversation into the back room where Thunderbolt and Terry the Teacup were cleaning up after bowls of plain cereal. "So did neither of you get breakfast in bed?" Black asked.

"No. This world may be a paradise, but it's not that nice. There's fixings in the kitchen for better than cereal, but Terry and I don't know how to cook. I've heard there are luxury hotels you can find where meals appear overnight and in rooms that unlock on their own at lunch and dinnertime, but nobody's been in one of those aside from Iron Raptor and his lieutenants since he took over. Why, were you expecting better? We don't exactly have General Mills here, but--"

"No thanks, I'm good," Black assured them. Terry and Thunderbolt gave each other concerned looks, but decided not to comment.

"Well, if you're ready to go, we should leave right away. I understand the local Raptor agent is getting suspicious of us, so we should get to my cell's meeting place. Hopefully you'll find something to prove your worth when we get there."

"I hear you're the reason we won't have to stick around for the coin distribution!" Terry added cheerily.

"True enough. Come on." As Thunderbolt walked to the front door, he stripped off his clothing and folded it over his arm. Black averted his eyes as the old man pulled off his pants, but Terry came up and gave him a reassuring pat on the shoulder.

"You'll get used to it. Everyone has to be naked to shift. Even most automatons don't use real fabric," the teacup explained. The detective still decided to wait inside until the transformation was complete and only emerged once the creaking and stretching noises ceased.

Thunderbolt's bulky white frame was hard to see in the early morning fog, and the sun was a faded white disc just visible past the thick tree canopy along (what Black hoped was) the east end of town. The roller coaster train was stuffing his human clothes just underneath the row of seats behind his head when Terry and Rick approached him. "Hop aboard, boys," he offered.

Trying not to think about how the creature he was climbing onto was technically both alive and naked, Black selected a seat a few rows back from Thunderbolt's head and locked the lap restraint against his thighs. The detective noted that the foam cushion on the restraint was sloppily painted white over the original black, and the paint still felt a bit sticky when he pulled his hand away. Terry picked a spot more towards the middle of the train, and then Thunderbolt turned his head to face his passengers. "Watch this," he said with a wink.

Thunderbolt took a deep breath and blew. As he blew, the morning mist cleared in a corridor in front of them, parting to either side like the Red Sea. As Thunderbolt rolled forward, the fog continued to clear in front and drew back together as they left it behind.

"I love fog," the roller coaster remarked as they plunged into the woods. "Ice and snow, too. A shame we don't see much around these parts."

"So where are we heading?" Black asked.

"There's a settlement along a river nearby. We can buy passage on a ship that'll take us right where we need to go."

"Looks like we're going pretty fast as it is," the detective commented as he watched trees fly by in a blur. "Can't you take us there yourself?"

Thunderbolt laughed. "Through a swamp? Come on, do I look like I could float in water and mud? Besides, wooden coasters are built for traction, not comfort. Even if we were in Plains Land, your rear would still be sore in under four minutes. Trust me, you'll be glad we're taking a boat by the time we hit Voodoo Town."

Detective Black had to admit the train was right as the group came to a halt in a tree stand outside Voodoo Town. Still beyond the town limits, Thunderbolt transformed back and put on his clothes, explaining, "I'm a bit of a notorious member of the Resistance these days. Lucky for me they don't know my human form yet, but Thunderbolt the Roller Coaster can be identified just about anywhere he goes."

"So what do I call you while we're there?" Rick asked.

"Allen. You remember the director, right?" Thunderbolt gave the detective another wink.

The roller coaster led the way into Voodoo Town. The village was built on a series of uneven wooden planks and walkways that crossed between posts driven deep into a marshy outflow of the nearby Cedar River. Mismatched wooden shacks rose up at random intervals along the walkways, with workshops, stores, and residences sharing space without any apparent regard to order or urban planning. There was also another concrete structure in a small clearing on nearby solid ground, but Detective Black chose not to draw attention to it this time.

Thunderbolt took the lead in finding passage, so Terry and Rick passed the time by sticking gummi worms on toy fishing poles to try and catch Swedish fish off the side of a dock. "You shouldn't let on you're a human while you're here," Terry advised the detective as he threw back a bright goldfish which had bitten on the hook by mistake. "I don't think most folks would mind, but Raptor's thrill rides would see you as a big, soft target that can't fight back. They'll be all over you."

"We'll see about that," Black muttered. He reeled in his fishing line and pried another wriggling red fish off his hook and dropped it into a steel bucket where it began swimming around with the others they had caught. "I thought you said these things came in more than one color."

"Must be a school of the red ones down there right now. They are more common," Terry admitted with a shrug. "Anyway, since your necklace was meant for a roller coaster train, it should be pretty easy to make people think you are one just by leaving it out. I'd use a different last name, though. Nobody really likes black these days." Terry shivered.

"Richard, Terry." The pair turned to see Thunderbolt smiling behind them. "I found us a ship that leaves today. It was supposed to leave tomorrow, but I was able to...fund its early departure. Eat the fish you want and throw the rest back. We're boarding right now."
-------
"We got pretty lucky on our transportation," Thunderbolt explained as he led his companions across the planks of Voodoo Town. "I found us a swinging ship that'll get us pretty close to our destination."

Terry nodded and smiled, but Detective Black asked, "Swinging ship?"

"Oh, right, sorry. There are three major types of watercraft in Park Beyond," Thunderbolt began, holding up a finger for each category. "First, there are cruise ships and yachts. These need to be piloted like any ordinary ship in your world. Second, you have theme ships which come with their own crew of automatons. The accommodations aren't as nice, but the crew was born for their jobs. Third are the living vessels, rides who crossed over like the rest of us. There are only so many seats, but since the ship itself is alive, you can't find a smoother, faster ride anywhere."

"Tiny crews, too. Fewer witnesses for Raptor's rides to track down," Terry added.

"True. I only wish we could have found an inverted ship. All those metal screens make for good protection."

The three made their way along the docks until they reached a curved Viking ship made of molded fiberglass and steel. Round shields painted with unique designs lined each side of the ship and concealed three doors on the railing which passengers were already using to board the vessel and sit on the green padded seats. Thunderbolt approached a monkey automaton balanced on top of a purple and yellow shield and said, "These are the friends I told you about." The creature nodded and permitted the group to board and take adjacent seats near the stern.

"I've seen some living ships negotiate themselves in human form, but this one apparently prefers not to shift," Thunderbolt mentioned as they adjusted their seat harnesses. "She hired Checkers there to book passage on her behalf. He also hides underwater when the tax collectors come so they don't have to pay as much, so I don't think they'll be turning us in if they find out who we are."

When the last passenger settled in, the boat was around two-thirds full. Checkers turned around to face them from his midship location, as the seats all faced the center of the vessel. "Ladies and gentlemen, we will now be heading up Cedar River from Voodoo Town to Riverside Park. The trip will take about ten hours, and meals will be available halfway through. Please ensure that you and the passengers next to you are fully secured and do not unlock your restraints until we are fully underway."

The ship jolted to a start and pushed out into the wide river. Detective Black strained to look around between the heavy overhead restraint, but he could see no means for the ship to propel itself. A massive steel pole came up from the center of the ship, but it held a large counterweight instead of a sail. Despite this, the ship picked up considerable speed as it moved into the center of the current, and the thick wall of trees sped past on either side. A few minutes later, a series of clicks came from just behind the passengers' heads, indicating they could now lift the restraints and move about the ship.
--------
Once the ship was underway, Detective Black left his seat and moved to the edge of the vessel. The Viking ship may have been full of passengers, but Black was feeling particularly lonely at the moment. He was the only true human on board, after all, a stranger in a strange land. For a time, he watched as swanboats ducked their heads underwater to pick out seaweed sandwiches and salad-shaped bunches by the shore while fisherman automatons threw nets over their sides to catch schools of gleaming goldfish crackers, but as the swinging ship progressed up the river, the fishing boats were left behind and Black's mind wandered off into his memories.

Richard Black met his future wife Mars at a policeman's ball. He was still a patrol officer then, but he was absolutely certain his special "skills" would earn him a promotion to detective as soon as he earned enough job experience. Looking back, Black knew he must have been insufferable at the time, and his frequently rotating partners would all have attested to this. Mars was someone else's date to the ball, but Black wasn't one to let a little detail like that stop him.

Back then, Black would use his psychic talent at reading personalities to convince women to sleep with him. He never promised anything he wasn't prepared to deliver, but after spending his high school years practicing, Black became very good at finding out what certain kinds of women wanted to hear and telling it to them. Mars was just one more in a long line of Richard's conquests.

At some point during the morning after, Black accidentally mentioned his abilities and Mars responded by slapping him in the face and storming out of his apartment. Richard considered it unfortunate, but he thought nothing more of it and never saw her until six months later.

When they met again, Black was on a walking patrol and happened to spot Mars using a laptop at an outdoor café. Recalling how good the sex was and figuring she wouldn't refuse a man in uniform, he took a moment to apologize and gave her his phone number. Much to his surprise, she called him back.

Still, their relationship moved much slower the second time around. It took Richard three months to convince Mars that he couldn't turn off his mental powers even if he wanted to, and it took Mars another three months to convince Richard to make things exclusive. A year and a promotion to detective later, the two married.

Their first child, Ken, died a week after he was born. His lungs weren't fully developed, and nothing the hospital did could help. Rick and Mars fell apart from each other for a year afterwards, and it was only after some outside counseling and extensive use of Rick's telepathy that they came back together and conceived Sarah. Having a healthy daughter did wonders for their relationship, but as much as they hoped and tried for a son, or even a second daughter, it eventually became apparent that Sarah was all that Rick and Mars would be given.

Of course, given how much trouble Sarah gave them, as a baby and then as a preteen, Black had to wonder just why he ever thought going through it twice would be a good idea. Sleepless nights, diaper changing, tantrums, screaming, crayon and marker drawings on everything, messes everywhere, PTA meetings, having to explain his job on career day...just the month before, Sarah discovered Cosmopolitan for the first time and Black had no idea what was going to happen next.

Then Rick remembered all the hugs and the kisses and the "I love you, Dad's." He remembered taking her to his favorite barber when she was five and helping her pick out a good style, although Mars did most of the work. He remembered when a hurricane hit the East Coast and how when the last vestiges reached their town Sarah asked if they were all going to die. He remembered doing his best to dodge all the questions she came home with after sex education began at her school. He remembered how he could never say no when she gave him that one look and how he and Mars spoiled her just as hard as the combined salaries of a detective and a part-time journalist would allow.

A strange vibration in the metal Viking shield he was leaning against brought Detective Black back into the present. Looking at the other passengers, he saw he wasn't the only one feeling uneasy, although nothing appeared to be wrong. Suddenly, a loud, bleating horn sounded from around a bend in the river upstream. Everyone on board fell silent then, and Black felt a growing wave of dread.

Thunderbolt walked over to where Black was standing. "This is bad," the old man said. "That's the call of Raptor's Raiders."
-------
"Raptor's Raiders?" asked Detective Black.

"Yes. One of Iron Raptor's many 'ideas' on how to keep up fear levels in the populace," Thunderbolt explained. "They're a group of thrill rides led by the roller coaster Freakshow. While Iron Raptor's other enforcers only go after you if you break the rules, the Raiders don't bother with such distinctions. If they decide you're finished, you're finished, no matter which side you support or what you've done."

"The Raiders have done the most good and the most bad for the Resistance out of any of Raptor's creatures," Terry added as he stripped off his shirt. "Everyone wants to join up with us when they hear who the Raiders have massacred, but then they run away once they see it for themselves."

The horn sounded again, and Detective Black watched bemused as nearly everybody on the ship began to take off their clothing. Black remembered Thunderbolt's earlier explanation that a naked body was necessary to safely transform into ride form, but the idea of a spontaneous mass orgy would've made Black laugh if it weren't for the terrified look on everyone's faces. "So what's happening now?" he asked.

"Everyone's going into ride form. We're more durable that way. Might live long enough to get away. I'm afraid a lot of us will sink to the bottom of this river and never come back up, though."

"Sherry knows. She's heading for the riverbank now." Black and Thunderbolt were both startled by the appearance of the monkey automaton who had booked their passage earlier. "It's a drat shame the river is so wide through here; it'll take us minutes to reach the shore. And if Freakshow spots us before then..."

"Can't we fight them?" Black asked, reaching for his sidearm. "It's not like I'm unarmed, and if you can fight Freakshow head on--"

"We can't, Richard!" Thunderbolt nearly shouted, gripping Black's shoulders. "Don't think I wouldn't if I could, but none of us here are a match for Freakshow. Look, you know we roller coasters have power over things the color of our bodies, right? Well, were you around for the late sixties? Hippies, psychedelics, tie-dye t-shirts? Freakshow was made back when that was the fashion, and a whole rainbow went into her chassis. Meaning..."

"...Meaning she can control basically everything she sees," Black finished, the horror of her abilities seeping in through the vanished wound in his gut. "So is there anything we can do?"

"Survive," Thunderbolt replied, barely keeping his face calm. "Even without Freakshow, all the other passengers are gentle rides. None of them know how to form a violent thought in their heads, let alone fight. There's nothing we can do for them; I'd offer to speed them away once we hit the shore, but my ride form is known to the Raiders and I'd be nothing but a moving target."

"And we're out of time!" the monkey shouted, pointing upriver to where a second swinging ship, armored for inversions and patterned after a space shuttle, had just appeared from around the river bend.

"Over the side, Terry!" Thunderbolt screamed. Terry obliged by leaping over the viking ship's rattling shields and transforming mid-jump, splashing into the water as a giant cream-white teacup, bobbing upside-down like a giant buoy. "After me, Richard!" the old man added as he followed Terry and dove into the river.

Black took a moment to strip off his jacket, then toppled overboard as the shield he was propping himself on came loose in his hand. Coming up for a breath, Black watched as the multicolored shields all lifted themselves from the ship's railing and began to fly across the deck. Black paused as the first screams of agony began, but then ducked underwater and into the bubble of air Terry sheltered.

Thunderbolt was already there. "Good. Now I'm going to lower us down." The detective grabbed hold of one of the inverted seats and felt the current of the river shift as the three of them submerged. Black grew nervous as the air bubble shrank, the growing water pressure compressing the air pocket to match.

"So...how much air do we have, here?" Black asked.

"Not much more than a few minutes, but it'll all be over by then. In case it isn't, I'm also moving us upstream right now. With luck we'll be past the Raiders' ship by the time we need to surface." Thunderbolt's voice quavered with every word.

The two were silent for a time, but then a thought occurred to Detective Black. "Not to pry, but I get the feeling you've done this before."

"We have. Terry and I have worked together since I joined the Resistance. He acts as my shield, and with my powers he's nearly invulnerable. Now please be quiet, we're wasting air."

Black obliged, and for several minutes the only sounds came from splashes and impacts that reverberated from the battle site as it faded into the distance. Then Detective Black noticed a steady whimpering sound coming from Thunderbolt and recalled a fact regarding the psychic psychology of roller coasters. "Thunderbolt...are you giggling?"

Thunderbolt took a deep, controlled breath, then responded, "Richard, have you ever found yourself forced to laugh when someone you loved died in front of you?" Black had to admit he had no idea what that would be like, but he did know just how terrible and guilty he would feel afterwards. "Because the moment I was forced to do that was the moment I joined the Resistance."
-------
When he and Detective Black were gasping for air, Thunderbolt caused Terry to resurface. They stayed up just long enough to refresh their air, then submerged again. Thunderbolt repeated the process twice more before risking a look, and what they saw shocked them.

The fight had been over since the first time they went up for air. Not far from where they had left the ship a dark plume of smoke rose from the shore. Debris bobbed in the waves, some of it from man-made objects and some from trees and underbrush uprooted during the melee. The Raiders' ship was now almost out of sight, its horn blowing a warning once more.

"Come on. We have to see what's left," Thunderbolt said, his voice drained of emotion. With a wave of his hand, Terry flew toward the shore.

Upon reaching the scene, Detective Black was reminded of the dark night he had first confronted Railrunner. Then as now, bodies were scattered throughout the area, limp and lifeless. Admittedly the parts had been organic and the fluid blood back in Black's plane, but the scrapped steel and fiberglass and the splashes of lubricating oil no less marked the violent end of living beings.

After a moment of silence, Thunderbolt picked up a slightly curved piece of steel and began to dig. Terry resumed his human form and did the same, not bothering to put his clothes back on. Finding a likely scrap of his own, Rick joined their efforts.

As Richard Black dug into the dark soil, he began to notice that Thunderbolt was muttering to himself. Although the area was quiet beyond the sound of digging, it still took Black some time to realize what Thunderbolt was saying:

"Merciful God, hear the cries of our grief, for you know the anguish of our hearts. It is beyond our understanding and more than we can bear. Accept our prayer that as these fallen have been released from this world's cruelty so may they be received into your safe hands and secure love. We pray that justice may be done and that we may treasure the memory of their lives more than the manner of their deaths. For Christ's sake. Amen."

"Amen," Black echoed. Thunderbolt paused to regard him, but then resumed his digging.

The long day was nearly over by the time they had finished burying the dead. Fortunately, the group was not far away from a campground clearing, which had naturally occurring dome tent bushes, canvas trees, log shrubs that concealed kerosene mushrooms, and empty fire-pit burrows. As the three men sat around their fire toasting marshmallow and hot dog reeds from the nearby riverside, Black finally spoke up.

"You know, I joined the police force because it meant I wouldn't have to run away when things like this happened."

Thunderbolt brought his marshmallow out of the fire and carefully turned it until every side was charred black. "I may not have been a cop, but I understand. I became a contact because I couldn't let lost rides remain lost the way I was. I joined the Resistance...because...

"There was once a roller coaster I knew named Railway to Heaven. I called her Angel. I used to joke she was named after the song, but we didn't really know. It's an old enough phrase it could have been from anything.

"Roller coasters don't often hunt together thanks to our psychic empathy. It's exhilarating to chase down a fat pig or a frightened deer, but when you feel that excitement from a hunting partner, both will get a sense of fear and suddenly it's all a bit less fun. But for Angel and me, it was worth it. A little fear is good for the soul, and it was like we were flying down the lift hill every time we...well.

"We thrill rides may not be suited to hunting together, but fighting each other is another matter. It's all great fun, and a good way to establish dominance. Occasionally someone would die, but so what? Accidents happen. Heck, I've been a few tussles in my time, but that all ended with Angel. I couldn't stand to lose her, or to hurt her by losing myself. So we became contacts. Things were good, and for a good long while.

"We found out about Iron Raptor when we climbed out a portal he had secured while we were away. He gave us the usual choice: obedience or death. Angel...she knew it wasn't right. We both did, but she came through first and she was always the louder one. It was a dark night, but Raptor brought in torches just so I could watch as he killed her."

The reed snapped in Thunderbolt's hand and his forgotten marshmallow fell into the fire. "He put her through so much pain I couldn't help but laugh. I couldn't. I couldn't...help her. They bound my chest in steel so I couldn't change. And the last thing she ever saw...was me. Laughing at her." Detective Black couldn't see well in the flickering light, but he didn't need to see to know Thunderbolt was sobbing.

Terry had remained respectfully silent throughout Thunderbolt's story, but he now spoke up. "He escaped by swearing allegiance on the spot, then tracked down the Resistance the next day. We crossed paths a few months later when my community was attacked by the Raiders. We were a dozen before, but I was...I was the only one he could save."

"This has to end," Thunderbolt managed, slowly calming himself down.

Detective Black could only nod.
-------
When he and Detective Black were gasping for air, Thunderbolt caused Terry to resurface. They stayed up just long enough to refresh their air, then submerged again. Thunderbolt repeated the process twice more before risking a look, and what they saw shocked them.

The fight had been over since the first time they went up for air. Not far from where they had left the ship a dark plume of smoke rose from the shore. Debris bobbed in the waves, some of it from man-made objects and some from trees and underbrush uprooted during the melee. The Raiders' ship was now almost out of sight, its horn blowing a warning once more.

"Come on. We have to see what's left," Thunderbolt said, his voice drained of emotion. With a wave of his hand, Terry flew toward the shore.

Upon reaching the scene, Detective Black was reminded of the dark night he had first confronted Railrunner. Then as now, bodies were scattered throughout the area, limp and lifeless. Admittedly the parts had been organic and the fluid blood back in Black's plane, but the scrapped steel and fiberglass and the splashes of lubricating oil no less marked the violent end of living beings.

After a moment of silence, Thunderbolt picked up a slightly curved piece of steel and began to dig. Terry resumed his human form and did the same, not bothering to put his clothes back on. Finding a likely scrap of his own, Rick joined their efforts.

As Richard Black dug into the dark soil, he began to notice that Thunderbolt was muttering to himself. Although the area was quiet beyond the sound of digging, it still took Black some time to realize what Thunderbolt was saying:

"Merciful God, hear the cries of our grief, for you know the anguish of our hearts. It is beyond our understanding and more than we can bear. Accept our prayer that as these fallen have been released from this world's cruelty so may they be received into your safe hands and secure love. We pray that justice may be done and that we may treasure the memory of their lives more than the manner of their deaths. For Christ's sake. Amen."

"Amen," Black echoed. Thunderbolt paused to regard him, but then resumed his digging.

The long day was nearly over by the time they had finished burying the dead. Fortunately, the group was not far away from a campground clearing, which had naturally occurring dome tent bushes, canvas trees, log shrubs that concealed kerosene mushrooms, and empty fire-pit burrows. As the three men sat around their fire toasting marshmallow and hot dog reeds from the nearby riverside, Black finally spoke up.

"You know, I joined the police force because it meant I wouldn't have to run away when things like this happened."

Thunderbolt brought his marshmallow out of the fire and carefully turned it until every side was charred black. "I may not have been a cop, but I understand. I became a contact because I couldn't let lost rides remain lost the way I was. I joined the Resistance...because...

"There was once a roller coaster I knew named Railway to Heaven. I called her Angel. I used to joke she was named after the song, but we didn't really know. It's an old enough phrase it could have been from anything.

"Roller coasters don't often hunt together thanks to our psychic empathy. It's exhilarating to chase down a fat pig or a frightened deer, but when you feel that excitement from a hunting partner, both will get a sense of fear and suddenly it's all a bit less fun. But for Angel and me, it was worth it. A little fear is good for the soul, and it was like we were flying down the lift hill every time we...well.

"We thrill rides may not be suited to hunting together, but fighting each other is another matter. It's all great fun, and a good way to establish dominance. Occasionally someone would die, but so what? Accidents happen. Heck, I've been a few tussles in my time, but that all ended with Angel. I couldn't stand to lose her, or to hurt her by losing myself. So we became contacts. Things were good, and for a good long while.

"We found out about Iron Raptor when we climbed out a portal he had secured while we were away. He gave us the usual choice: obedience or death. Angel...she knew it wasn't right. We both did, but she came through first and she was always the louder one. It was a dark night, but Raptor brought in torches just so I could watch as he killed her."

The reed snapped in Thunderbolt's hand and his forgotten marshmallow fell into the fire. "He put her through so much pain I couldn't help but laugh. I couldn't. I couldn't...help her. They bound my chest in steel so I couldn't change. And the last thing she ever saw...was me. Laughing at her." Detective Black couldn't see well in the flickering light, but he didn't need to see to know Thunderbolt was sobbing.

Terry had remained respectfully silent throughout Thunderbolt's story, but he now spoke up. "He escaped by swearing allegiance on the spot, then tracked down the Resistance the next day. We crossed paths a few months later when my community was attacked by the Raiders. We were a dozen before, but I was...I was the only one he could save."

"This has to end," Thunderbolt managed, slowly calming himself down.

Detective Black could only nod.
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<Note at this point, Bobbin had given up on finishing the fic. He did, however, summarize how he had planned it to end, which I post in full>
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I could do that much, sure. After meeting up with the rebels, Detective Black and company join their effort to break prisoners out of Prison Town (which exists in Park Beyond because old prisons sometimes become tourist destinations). Using his name, his roller coaster pendant, and the fact that no one knows what Iron Raptor's human form looks like, Black bluffs himself and his team of "inspectors" past the guards and into the cell blocks. However, things go south when Freak Show and her raiders show up to deliver more prisoners and she calls Black's bluff. Fortunately, the unpainted steel and concrete of the prison mean that Freak Show is less powerful than usual, and the detective then manages to evacuate everyone into the maintenance tunnels while he holds the roller coaster off personally in the courtyard. Freak Show isn't able to control Black directly thanks to his brown suit and black handgun, but she still underestimates him thanks to him being a "mere human." The laughing trick doesn't work as well against her as it did against Railrunner since she's older and more experienced, but it still causes her to flinch at just the right moment for Black to get a clean shot at her head.

Black finishes the evacuation by using the elevator system to send everyone back to Cajun Town (over the objections of the gnomes), although the amusement rides' mental block is so complete that once they get back out they are all convinced that Black has teleportation powers. Iron Raptor himself then shows up for some personal revenge in the middle of the day and Black finds out that Raptor's personal lieutenant, a spinning swing ride, has the power to darken its surroundings as it spins and the lights studded across its entire surface glow brighter. Terry the Teacup and/or Thunderbolt die during the fight, and although he's able to fatally wound the spinning ride, Black loses his pistol somewhere in the darkness before he's able to escape.

As the remaining members of the resistance regroup in the middle of the swamp, all hope seems lost, but then Detective Black remembers a certain field he had found while exploring near Plains Town. After prearranging matters with the gnomes, who had a change of heart after seeing the sorry state of the prisoners, Black spreads word of an open challenge: him against Iron Raptor in the open field, alone, at twelve o'clock on an overcast night. Black has the right to challenge thanks to having defeated a roller coaster himself, and although Iron Raptor realizes that the challenge must be a trap, the team he sends to check the field finds nothing unusual, and his pride and his rage at seeing his two most useful lieutenants killed cause him to accept anyway.

When the night of the fight comes, the rebels and Iron Raptor's followers all file into the (apparently) naturally-occurring bleachers, each on one side, and the two combatants step into center of the field. No one is able to see much beyond a few flashlights brought out of nearby homes, but everyone hears when Detective Black shouts "NOW!" and the stadium lights that surround the field all turn on at once, ridding the playing field of all shadows. At the same time, every rebel in the bleachers, each of whom had secretly turned into their ride forms, leaps down and mobs the now mostly helpless Iron Raptor. Raptor's supporters hesitate at first, but upon seeing how the fight is going, they join in dismembering the tyrant.

The morning after, the rebel leaders put together an impromptu ceremony in one of the formerly restricted high-class hotel resorts to celebrate their victory and Detective Black's contributions. Black, however, wants nothing more than to return home, and so he is finally shown where the pool back to Mystic Park lies. The first thing the detective does upon returning is to borrow someone's phone so he can call his wife and let her know that he's alive. The rest of the day is spent filing paperwork and reporting everything he encountered on the other side, but afterwards he is finally allowed to go home. When he wakes up the next morning, he discovers that both he and his wife have been served breakfast in bed, and a fancy card left on the tray indicates that he has been granted "a Lifetime Membership to Amusement Park Beyond."