All of the World (ARCHIVED & LESS BAD)

Part Twelve

Chaos reigned supreme as Cranky sent hell raining down upon the unsuspecting soldiers. "Hey Frances, are you up for something crazy?" Cranky asked innocently, raising his hook for Frances to see. He knew what he meant immediately.

"Cranky, you are insane."

"Aw shucks, thanks. Now jump, you little shit!"

Silently cursing the foul-mouthed crane, Frances exited the safety of Cranky's cab and stared down at the hard concrete beneath him.

"Well, I guess I don't have much to live for anyway..." He trailed off, swallowing his terror and running awkwardly toward Cranky's front. He felt the edge beneath his toes and he leaped. He felt a shift behind him, and after falling for about two seconds, he hit a soft surface with a jolt.

"You okay down there?" Frances opened his eyes tentatively, feeling himself for any major injuries.

"Yeah, I think s- HOLY SHIT!" He screamed, looking down at what had caught him; a giant, pale hand. Apparently, Cranky had a human form.

"WHOO! WRECK SOME SHIT!" Frances burst out laughing at what was obviously Duck yelling at the top of his lungs. Cranky set him down on the ground, where he was met with tumultuous applause.

"Good one!" Donald cheered, patting him on the back gently. Without a word, Pip threw him a gun, which, being unprepared, he dropped. With a squeak, he jumped back, thinking that it was loaded.

"You- You thought that I'd throw a loaded gun at you?" Pip asked incredulously, a small smile gracing her lips.

"I don't mean to interrupt, but don't we have some work to do?" Duck pointed out, gesturing to the havoc behind them.

"Righto." Emma agreed, cocking her gun with a wild gleam in her eyes.

They split into two groups: Frances, Duck, Emma and Douglas barricading all entrances to the docks, and Oliver, Toad, Pip and Donald cleaning up the rest of the soldiers. Duck picked up a discarded flatbed, then promptly placed it back on the ground again without explanation.

"Don't look under it." He warned, backing away from it cautiously.

Frances, of course, lifted it anyway, screaming as Salty jumped out at him.

"You- you almost made me drop it on your head!" He complained. Salty, being the drunken pirate of the group, paid no attention to Frances' grievances, opting to start whacking a corpse in the head with a wooden board.

"Take that, ye' fish-headed faggot!" As Salty proceeded to shape the bludgeoned corpse into an actual fish head, Frances and Duck threw trucks against all possible rail entry points, opting to build an actual barricade on the northwest side.

Satisfied with their work, the two friends rejoiced in being in each other's company again, hauling horribly mutilated corpses into the water and scrubbing bodily fluids from the cement ground.

"It sure does feel good to be back, Duck. It really does." Frances admitted, giving him another hug. Duck took his paperboy cap off of his head and fit it snugly over Frances' braid bumps. His eyes were shining, and not with gold dust.

"In case we don't- in case I don't make it... keep it as a family heirloom or something." Frances looked at him with shock.

"Listen to me, alright? I'm keeping the goddamn hat, but you're going to stay alive long enough to regret giving it to me. That's a promise." Duck nodded curtly. Frances sighed. "It's a nice thought, but did you honestly think that I'd just go 'Okay, sure thing bud! Go get killed out there!' and forget about it after five seconds? Jesus, man, you are fucked in the head."