The Song of Time 1/23
Title: The Song of Time (Prologue & chapter 1)
Author: rose_of_pollux
Rating: PG13
Summary: Sequel to Somewhere Back in Time. The Monkees find themselves under siege again by Zero, who is out to guarantee his victory once and for all by rewriting their future. With everything falling apart around them, the quartet will have to struggle just to stay together... leading to some desperate measures, from both sides.
In this chapter: Mr. Zero strikes again, and, this time, it seems as though he has already guaranteed his victory...
Warnings: There will be perilous situations in later chapters. Also, this is a Doctor Nez fic, so wibbly-wobbly, timey-wimey elements will be ahead, as well.
Genre: Adventure/Drama
Pairing: None
Main Character(s): Mike, Davy, Micky, Peter, Mr. Zero
Disclaimer: The characters aren't mine (except for the OCs), and the story is; fictional personas from the TV show.
Notes: This is the final installment in the Zero Trilogy (taking place a few months after “Somewhere Back in Time”), and will be full of feels from start to finish! And as you can see from this first chapter, I firmly believe that the girl in the beginning of Head had something to do with Zero…
Prologue
Malibu, CA, somewhere in the near future:
A young woman glumly walked down a back alley. Her charms had failed her; not only had she been left by her alleged boyfriend, but any and all other attempts at romance had ended in failure for her.
She was angry and bitter; admittedly, she didn’t know who to blame. But she felt as though she had to blame someone.
A strange light in the sky jolted her from her thoughts. She glanced up, seeing an odd opening in the sky. A piece of paper floated out of it, just before the opening closed up again. The old, tattered page floated by her head, and she quickly snatched it in midair, glancing at it with halfhearted interest.
“The Book of Ages?” she murmured aloud. “What is that supposed to mean? And who are Davy, Mike, Micky, and Peter?”
“It means,” a voice said. “That you have found something that is very valuable to both myself and to a quartet of musicians who need to be taught a lesson.”
The woman looked up, startled, surprised to see a someone standing there in a suit.
“Who are you?” she asked. “What do you mean?”
A card appeared in the being’s hand, which he handed to the woman.
“Mr. Zero, Salesman,” she read. “What do you sell?”
“Anything and everything you desire,” Zero said. “I own a small pawn shop in town, but it’s really just a front for a much larger establishment.”
“…Uh-huh…” she said, not convinced.
“Right now, though, you have something I need,” Zero continued. “That paper you just picked up.”
“This Book of Ages thing?” she asked. “What’s it to you?”
Zero’s eyes narrowed malevolently.
“Victory.”
“And what can you give me in exchange for it?” she asked, not about to let this opportunity pass.
“Oh, I see you’re quite the entrepreneur yourself,” Zero said. “How very shrewd. Well, as I said, I can offer you anything you wish.”
“That’s not possible.”
“There is nothing that is impossible for me,” Zero promised. “And my knowledge is vast. For example, I know that your current predicament.”
“Oh, do you?” she scoffed.
“And I can propose a deal that will make both of us happy,” Zero continued. A contract appeared in his hand. “Give me that paper, and I will bestow upon you the gift of the Kiss of Doom.”
“The what?”
“The Kiss of Doom. Those who are subjected to the Kiss of Doom will experience a curse of ill fortune until you decide to free them from its effects.”
“And you’re willing to give me this power for this piece of paper?” she asked.
“On one condition,” Zero said. “The four musicians you read about in that piece of paper? I want them to be the first four recipients of your Kiss of Doom.”
The woman glanced at the paper, and then at the contract. She had taken notice of how Zero had made it appear in midair. Perhaps there was something to his words… And it was a small price to pay.
“Alright,” she said, and she took the pen from him and signed the paper. “You’ve got yourself a deal.”
Zero smirked.
“You’ll find all four of them waiting at 1334 Beechwood Drive,” he said, taking the pen back from her.
“Then that’s where I’m heading,” she said, handing the page from the Book of Ages. “We’ll see if this Kiss of Doom thing works.”
“Oh, it will,” Zero said, clutching the page in his fist. “It most certainly will.”
And as she turned and left, heading for Beechwood Drive, Zero’s smirk grew. He used the pen to write in the page from the Book of Ages, his eyes glittering with malice with every word he wrote.
At last… at long last… his victory was guaranteed.
Chapter 1
Malibu, CA, present day:
In the alcove of 1334 Beechwood Drive, a woolhat-wearing Texan had just completed his task of tuning his guitar.
“There we go…” he said, pleased with his handiwork. “Now, all we gotta do is practice our set until…”
The Texan trailed off as he realized that there was no one in the alcove.
“Hey, where’d you guys go?”
He looked around, and then rolled his eyes as he saw that his bandmates were sound asleep; a short brunet boy was curled up on the backless couch, a blond boy was sprawled over the armchair, and another brunet boy, taller than the first one, had set up the hammock. All three of them were lightly snoring.
Quietly, the Texan placed his guitar down and removed two of the cymbals from the drum kit. He walked over to the center of the room, and with one quick movement, slammed the two cymbals together.
The effects were instantaneous-and exactly what he had hoped for. The short one was launched from the backless couch as though he had accidentally rolled onto a pin; the blond, in his haste to scramble away from whatever was the source of that noise, ended up falling out of the armchair. And the brunet in the hammock let out a yell as his sudden movements caused the hammock to tip, depositing him unceremoniously onto the floor.
“Rise and shine,” the Texan drawled.
“…Don’t do that,” the short one said, in a Manchester accent.
“Miiiiiiiiike!” the hammock-tossed one yelped. “How could use my own cymbals against me!?”
“Like this, Mick,” Mike replied, clashing them together again.
The blond quickly rushed over to him and snatched them away.
“We heard you the first time,” he said, with a good-natured smile. “Here you go, Micky.”
Micky gratefully took the cymbals back.
“Thanks, Pete.”
Peter just grinned, and then looked to the short English boy, who was now standing with his arms folded.
“You enjoyed that, didn’t you?” he accused Mike.
“Well, Davy, I’d be lying if I said that I hadn’t been waiting for a chance to try that,” Mike admitted. “But now that y’all are up, how about practicing for that gig we’ve got in a few days?”
“Come on, Mike,” Micky said, as he placed his cymbals back in their proper places. “It’s not like these songs are anything new to us.”
“Yeah, but we’ve gotta make sure we’ve got them down perfectly,” Mike insisted. “If we do well with this club gig, the manager said he’s going to hire us for the whole summer. Do I need to remind you what that means?”
“No, but say it again anyway,” Peter said.
Mike smirked.
“Steady income.”
“Beautiful…” Davy said, with mock applause. “Just beautiful.”
“Isn’t it, though?” Mike said. “Now, I’m not saying that we don’t have what it takes already to get it. But it can’t hurt to practice, can it?”
“Guess not,” Micky said, playing a warm-up rhythm on the drums.
Davy and Peter soon took their places, and Mike joined them, picking up his beloved blond guitar.
“Hey, Davy, do you and Micky think you can be finished with that tune you two were working on for the gig?”
“If we can come up with some lyrics, yeah,” Davy said. “We still can’t decide on what it’s supposed to be about.”
“But we’ve got a great instrumental piece, in the meantime,” Micky said.
“Yeah, well… An instrumental piece isn’t going to cut it for this crowd. So, I guess we’ll start off with ‘Clarksville’ for now and move down the usual setlist from there,” he said. “On four, then. One, two, thr-”
The phone chose to ring at that particular moment.
“Gatdangit,” the Texan hissed. He forced himself to be polite as he picked up the phone. “This is 1334 Beechwood; how can we help you?” He frowned.
“What is it?” Peter asked.
“Line’s all fuzzy; I can barely hear whoever’s talking. Hello? Hello?” He sighed and hung up. “We got cut off.”
“You couldn’t tell who it was?” Micky asked.
“It sounded like a chick.”
“Oh, it must have been for Davy, then…” Peter said.
Davy gave a lopsided smile.
“Well, either you’ve got it, or you haven’t…”
“Think you can lend it?” Micky asked.
“Alright, alright,” Mike said. “Back to work, then. One, two, thr-”
He was cut off again, this time by a puff of smoke, and the appearance of an all-too-familiar figure.
“…You,” Mike said, scowling at Zero. “Man, you never quit, do you?”
It had been months since their last encounter with Zero-back when he had tried to rewrite their past. Though the quartet knew that Zero would be far from finished, the ensuing weeks of peace and quiet (well, as quiet as it could be for them) had been so blissful that they had been hoping that it had all, at last, been behind them.
Clearly, that was not the case. Still, it didn’t stop Mike’s bandmates from standing by his side, determined that they would not let any harm come to him.
“How astute of you, Nesmith,” Zero said. “You’re right-I don’t quit. But the four of you might as well wave the white flag right now.”
“Awwww, come on!” Micky said. “You know us better than that by now! We’re not gonna quit just because you pop up here and blow a little smoke around!”
“You don’t seem to understand, Dolenz,” Zero said. “The battle is over. I win.”
“Just what do you mean by that!?” Davy demanded.
“This,” Zero said, waving the page from the Book of Ages at them. “You recognize this, I take it?”
Peter gasped.
“The missing page!”
The quartet had traveled through time and space to retrieve missing pages from the Book of Ages; they had recovered all but one, which had been floating around in the Time Vortex.
“Do you know what’s on this page?” Zero asked. “It’s your future. And I’ve made the necessary edits to ensure my victory.” He smirked again when he saw the horrified looks on the musicians’ faces. “I have come here, Gentlemen, to give you some advice, which I suggest that you take: enjoy what little time you have left with each other.”
And, with that, he vanished in another puff of smoke.
Author: rose_of_pollux
Rating: PG13
Summary: Sequel to Somewhere Back in Time. The Monkees find themselves under siege again by Zero, who is out to guarantee his victory once and for all by rewriting their future. With everything falling apart around them, the quartet will have to struggle just to stay together... leading to some desperate measures, from both sides.
In this chapter: Mr. Zero strikes again, and, this time, it seems as though he has already guaranteed his victory...
Warnings: There will be perilous situations in later chapters. Also, this is a Doctor Nez fic, so wibbly-wobbly, timey-wimey elements will be ahead, as well.
Genre: Adventure/Drama
Pairing: None
Main Character(s): Mike, Davy, Micky, Peter, Mr. Zero
Disclaimer: The characters aren't mine (except for the OCs), and the story is; fictional personas from the TV show.
Notes: This is the final installment in the Zero Trilogy (taking place a few months after “Somewhere Back in Time”), and will be full of feels from start to finish! And as you can see from this first chapter, I firmly believe that the girl in the beginning of Head had something to do with Zero…
Prologue
Malibu, CA, somewhere in the near future:
A young woman glumly walked down a back alley. Her charms had failed her; not only had she been left by her alleged boyfriend, but any and all other attempts at romance had ended in failure for her.
She was angry and bitter; admittedly, she didn’t know who to blame. But she felt as though she had to blame someone.
A strange light in the sky jolted her from her thoughts. She glanced up, seeing an odd opening in the sky. A piece of paper floated out of it, just before the opening closed up again. The old, tattered page floated by her head, and she quickly snatched it in midair, glancing at it with halfhearted interest.
“The Book of Ages?” she murmured aloud. “What is that supposed to mean? And who are Davy, Mike, Micky, and Peter?”
“It means,” a voice said. “That you have found something that is very valuable to both myself and to a quartet of musicians who need to be taught a lesson.”
The woman looked up, startled, surprised to see a someone standing there in a suit.
“Who are you?” she asked. “What do you mean?”
A card appeared in the being’s hand, which he handed to the woman.
“Mr. Zero, Salesman,” she read. “What do you sell?”
“Anything and everything you desire,” Zero said. “I own a small pawn shop in town, but it’s really just a front for a much larger establishment.”
“…Uh-huh…” she said, not convinced.
“Right now, though, you have something I need,” Zero continued. “That paper you just picked up.”
“This Book of Ages thing?” she asked. “What’s it to you?”
Zero’s eyes narrowed malevolently.
“Victory.”
“And what can you give me in exchange for it?” she asked, not about to let this opportunity pass.
“Oh, I see you’re quite the entrepreneur yourself,” Zero said. “How very shrewd. Well, as I said, I can offer you anything you wish.”
“That’s not possible.”
“There is nothing that is impossible for me,” Zero promised. “And my knowledge is vast. For example, I know that your current predicament.”
“Oh, do you?” she scoffed.
“And I can propose a deal that will make both of us happy,” Zero continued. A contract appeared in his hand. “Give me that paper, and I will bestow upon you the gift of the Kiss of Doom.”
“The what?”
“The Kiss of Doom. Those who are subjected to the Kiss of Doom will experience a curse of ill fortune until you decide to free them from its effects.”
“And you’re willing to give me this power for this piece of paper?” she asked.
“On one condition,” Zero said. “The four musicians you read about in that piece of paper? I want them to be the first four recipients of your Kiss of Doom.”
The woman glanced at the paper, and then at the contract. She had taken notice of how Zero had made it appear in midair. Perhaps there was something to his words… And it was a small price to pay.
“Alright,” she said, and she took the pen from him and signed the paper. “You’ve got yourself a deal.”
Zero smirked.
“You’ll find all four of them waiting at 1334 Beechwood Drive,” he said, taking the pen back from her.
“Then that’s where I’m heading,” she said, handing the page from the Book of Ages. “We’ll see if this Kiss of Doom thing works.”
“Oh, it will,” Zero said, clutching the page in his fist. “It most certainly will.”
And as she turned and left, heading for Beechwood Drive, Zero’s smirk grew. He used the pen to write in the page from the Book of Ages, his eyes glittering with malice with every word he wrote.
At last… at long last… his victory was guaranteed.
Chapter 1
Malibu, CA, present day:
In the alcove of 1334 Beechwood Drive, a woolhat-wearing Texan had just completed his task of tuning his guitar.
“There we go…” he said, pleased with his handiwork. “Now, all we gotta do is practice our set until…”
The Texan trailed off as he realized that there was no one in the alcove.
“Hey, where’d you guys go?”
He looked around, and then rolled his eyes as he saw that his bandmates were sound asleep; a short brunet boy was curled up on the backless couch, a blond boy was sprawled over the armchair, and another brunet boy, taller than the first one, had set up the hammock. All three of them were lightly snoring.
Quietly, the Texan placed his guitar down and removed two of the cymbals from the drum kit. He walked over to the center of the room, and with one quick movement, slammed the two cymbals together.
The effects were instantaneous-and exactly what he had hoped for. The short one was launched from the backless couch as though he had accidentally rolled onto a pin; the blond, in his haste to scramble away from whatever was the source of that noise, ended up falling out of the armchair. And the brunet in the hammock let out a yell as his sudden movements caused the hammock to tip, depositing him unceremoniously onto the floor.
“Rise and shine,” the Texan drawled.
“…Don’t do that,” the short one said, in a Manchester accent.
“Miiiiiiiiike!” the hammock-tossed one yelped. “How could use my own cymbals against me!?”
“Like this, Mick,” Mike replied, clashing them together again.
The blond quickly rushed over to him and snatched them away.
“We heard you the first time,” he said, with a good-natured smile. “Here you go, Micky.”
Micky gratefully took the cymbals back.
“Thanks, Pete.”
Peter just grinned, and then looked to the short English boy, who was now standing with his arms folded.
“You enjoyed that, didn’t you?” he accused Mike.
“Well, Davy, I’d be lying if I said that I hadn’t been waiting for a chance to try that,” Mike admitted. “But now that y’all are up, how about practicing for that gig we’ve got in a few days?”
“Come on, Mike,” Micky said, as he placed his cymbals back in their proper places. “It’s not like these songs are anything new to us.”
“Yeah, but we’ve gotta make sure we’ve got them down perfectly,” Mike insisted. “If we do well with this club gig, the manager said he’s going to hire us for the whole summer. Do I need to remind you what that means?”
“No, but say it again anyway,” Peter said.
Mike smirked.
“Steady income.”
“Beautiful…” Davy said, with mock applause. “Just beautiful.”
“Isn’t it, though?” Mike said. “Now, I’m not saying that we don’t have what it takes already to get it. But it can’t hurt to practice, can it?”
“Guess not,” Micky said, playing a warm-up rhythm on the drums.
Davy and Peter soon took their places, and Mike joined them, picking up his beloved blond guitar.
“Hey, Davy, do you and Micky think you can be finished with that tune you two were working on for the gig?”
“If we can come up with some lyrics, yeah,” Davy said. “We still can’t decide on what it’s supposed to be about.”
“But we’ve got a great instrumental piece, in the meantime,” Micky said.
“Yeah, well… An instrumental piece isn’t going to cut it for this crowd. So, I guess we’ll start off with ‘Clarksville’ for now and move down the usual setlist from there,” he said. “On four, then. One, two, thr-”
The phone chose to ring at that particular moment.
“Gatdangit,” the Texan hissed. He forced himself to be polite as he picked up the phone. “This is 1334 Beechwood; how can we help you?” He frowned.
“What is it?” Peter asked.
“Line’s all fuzzy; I can barely hear whoever’s talking. Hello? Hello?” He sighed and hung up. “We got cut off.”
“You couldn’t tell who it was?” Micky asked.
“It sounded like a chick.”
“Oh, it must have been for Davy, then…” Peter said.
Davy gave a lopsided smile.
“Well, either you’ve got it, or you haven’t…”
“Think you can lend it?” Micky asked.
“Alright, alright,” Mike said. “Back to work, then. One, two, thr-”
He was cut off again, this time by a puff of smoke, and the appearance of an all-too-familiar figure.
“…You,” Mike said, scowling at Zero. “Man, you never quit, do you?”
It had been months since their last encounter with Zero-back when he had tried to rewrite their past. Though the quartet knew that Zero would be far from finished, the ensuing weeks of peace and quiet (well, as quiet as it could be for them) had been so blissful that they had been hoping that it had all, at last, been behind them.
Clearly, that was not the case. Still, it didn’t stop Mike’s bandmates from standing by his side, determined that they would not let any harm come to him.
“How astute of you, Nesmith,” Zero said. “You’re right-I don’t quit. But the four of you might as well wave the white flag right now.”
“Awwww, come on!” Micky said. “You know us better than that by now! We’re not gonna quit just because you pop up here and blow a little smoke around!”
“You don’t seem to understand, Dolenz,” Zero said. “The battle is over. I win.”
“Just what do you mean by that!?” Davy demanded.
“This,” Zero said, waving the page from the Book of Ages at them. “You recognize this, I take it?”
Peter gasped.
“The missing page!”
The quartet had traveled through time and space to retrieve missing pages from the Book of Ages; they had recovered all but one, which had been floating around in the Time Vortex.
“Do you know what’s on this page?” Zero asked. “It’s your future. And I’ve made the necessary edits to ensure my victory.” He smirked again when he saw the horrified looks on the musicians’ faces. “I have come here, Gentlemen, to give you some advice, which I suggest that you take: enjoy what little time you have left with each other.”
And, with that, he vanished in another puff of smoke.