Potched Kumquat [Victory!]

Originally posted on MSPA by Dragon Fogel.

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Jordan flipped back through Potched Kumquat. It seemed this wasn't the path the dragons had taken before; they have been in some sort of conservatory filled with musical instruments. He must have misread a few "weasts".

It was probably just as well, though. The dragons would probably retrace their steps before looking for yet another exit. In fact...

"Thins ice buck wear weed starkted!" Wong sed two Wight.

"Heel courd stile haven goon thas wy," Riget applied.

Puzzling out the garbled words, it seemed they were on the wrong track after all. So he had some time to come up with a plan, at least, even if he didn't have a weapon.

If there was even a functional weapon anywhere in this crazy place.

Sighing, Jordan sat down in one of the armchairs. If these were to be his last moments, they might as well be comfortable.

He was surprised to find the chair had gained another occupant in the time it had taken him to turn around and sit down.

***

"What if he didn't go this way at all?" Rong growled, as they walked back through the conservatory. "We could just be getting farther away! And who knows what he's up to!"

"What he's up to is probably more running away, knowing him," mused Right. "And I do think he genuinely wants to talk. The worst he'll do is cut your head off so you don't interrupt with a fireball."

Rong glared at Right.

"Yes, I'm sure it's very inconvenient, but you'll survive. Look, the point is, I don't think he's trying to kill us, so it's all right if we let him wander in some other direction. Really, what's the worst that can happen?"

***

"Ah, you found me!" squealed the Organizer as he materialized. "Good, good. I was growing bored of hiding."

Jordan simply stared.

"Now, I see you've found the library. And it seems you've decided that you don't want to win this battle after all. I'm rather disappointed, really. I mean, I already knew you had no chance of winning. But if you're not even going to try, what's the point in going through the motions? It won't even be all that entertaining to watch you struggle."

Jordan reached for his inhaler. He had a bad feeling about how this was going to end.

"So I'm going to even the odds. Above all, I want this to end spectacularly. It may mean bending the rules - well, all right, outright breaking them. But that's better than letting the final round be a disappointment. I know some of the others are watching, after all. The Monitor certainly is. I might as well entertain them."

Jordan's face took on a puzzled expression.

"It's simple, really. There's no way you can win in this timeline. Or in any possible timeline."

The Organizer raised his arms in what he hoped was a dramatic gesture.

"So I'm going to bring in somebody from an impossible timeline to help you out. This should make it more interesting."

Before Jordan could gather enough courage to ask what the Grandmaster meant, there was a flash of light and a puff of smoke.

And another Jordan was called into existence.

There were three things that stood out about the doppelganger. The first was that he carried himself much more confidently than the coward who had somehow made it to this final round by running away repeatedly.

The second was his sword. Or rather, Alexander Corendal's sword.

The third was that his sword-arm was made of wood and had a mouth on its shoulder.

Finally, Jordan was able to find the strength to talk.

"What the hell?" he shouted. "It's... it's me! But why does he have the Manikin's arm?"

"It snatched mine. I made it return the favor," said the other Jordan, before turning to the Organizer. "Now what the hell's going on? I was about to finish off Hatman and win your stupid battle. What's this wimp who looks like me doing here, and where is this place?"

The Organized would have smiled, if his current form allowed it.

"This is Jordan Smith. He is you, just with different experiences. He hasn't grown the way you have. Frankly, he's completely hopeless. But he's somehow made it to the final round, and I wanted to make it interesting. So I thought I'd bring you in. Defeat his final opponent before he dies, and he's the winner."

"Huh. That's pretty pathetic." The other Jordan turned back to the original, who was still staring at the Manikin-arm. "But fine, I'll bite, as long as you send me back to the other battle afterwards. Don't want to leave that unfinished."

"Agreed, but only if you win here."

"Sounds fair. So who's he up against? Hatman?"

"No. Eemp, Right, and Rong."

Jordan B rubbed his chin thoughtfully with his still-human arm.

"Hmm. That... scarecrow thing with the dragon arms? Huh. I didn't think it was that tough. Then again, about all I saw it do was get eaten by spiders, maybe that was just bad luck. Well, whatever. I can probably take 'em. Where are they?"

"You'll have to find them on your own. I've given him enough advantage by just bringing you here. The rest is up to you. And I suppose him, if you can get him to cooperate."

As if on cue, Jordan A ran away, still clutching the books.

"Which... might be difficult," the Organizer concluded.

Jordan B laughed as he walked out of the room.

"I guess I'll just have to show him what he can do if he sets his mind to it."