Chapter 13: The Blake-Tower Blueprint
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HARD-AND-HEAVY RAIN fell in Perth as a-repercussion of the destruction of the garden-Paradise in the realm of the-Dreamworld…
…@the-windowless bedroom of The-Walker House – Paul HAD A FEVER after Battle-Of-GOE…
… a-repercussion of a ‘SELFISH’ NEGATIVE-THOUGHT ‘where’ the teen-supe didn’t help the Cube-Of-Apollo while in-crisis… when attacked by T’Maru’s bulldragons -- with Paul’s Evil-intention of the Death-Of-The All-Women…
He pulled-tight to his comforter to the-cold rain… as he blanketed and shivered in-fever.
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Caroline woke her 2nd-son that Saturday-evening… and it was ‘still’ raining heavily-outside…
… Paul was in-2 worlds… when-he opened his-squinty eyes to the bright-florescent room-light – he had a terrible sore throat… by over-screaming in using his ‘new’ supe-Banshee vocal-powers in the-mission…
“Poe, you’ve been ‘sleeping’ for the PAST 21-straight hours – you’ve TO EAT-something and take your fever-meds too…”
… Caroline felt guilty-too that she couldn’t take Paul to-any nearby clinic… and had-to self-medicated him with paracetamol – due to heavy-rain ‘everywhere’ … and main-roads submerged in flood waters…
Paul can’t remember that late morning… 12-hours-ago – of Carol giving him the-meds…
… but the ‘mention’ that he had ‘not’ eaten for the past 21-hours – made his obese-tummy to growl that’ he had missed his breakfast-and-lunch…
… his appetite had returned… and he was famished – recalling his ‘last-meal’ was on-Friday’s pasta-dinner…
Caroline sat-on the bed and told Paul that his-fever had gone-down – by placing her mom-thermometer palm on-his forehead…
“Are you having runny-nose?”
The quiet-Paul shook-his head-no – and kept pointing at his throat… and growled in a low-tone…
“Sore-throat…?” The mother asked – and, Paul nodded as-yes…
The mother stood-up and said…
“Stay in-bed… I’ll serve you dinner here…” She then-heard her-son growl-again… pointing to his adult-diaper…
“… heve-tah peeee…”
“Okay-Go…”
She-said as she saw her fat son ‘struggling’ to get into-his wheelchair… she came-forward to help…
“… ankst, Moom…”
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He was out-of his door – and-saw Peter at stove… with pepper-grinder…
… Peter saw him and panicked thinking it was Carol who caught-him, modifying her pasta cooking by spicing-up on-the-pepper. When he saw it ‘was-only’ Paul… he continued to grate-in more pepper into the saucepan on slow-fire…
Paul didn’t make any-eye contact WITH THE-DEVIL – and rolled-away to the bathroom.
Levitating, at the-dunny, Paul had-an involuntary-pee gush… urinating ‘not’ in-the-bowl but spayed-beyond the wall-and-floor… he flushed the-toilet and poured-a-small bucket of water on the-floor…
… as it was THE-DEVIL’S HOUSE that he’s ‘staying’ in-now… who, always-complained about the stench-of-Paul’s urine in-the-kitchen…
Paul returned to his-bedroom to-notice his-mother had-changed his bedding-cover… and was picking his clothes to-machine-wash. She said…
“… Poe, get-back to bed. I’ll serve-you dinner in-a-while – and, after dinner, take your-meds and sleep-it-off… WE’RE ‘NOT’ going to church tomorrow, and-apparently, all-the roads to St Michael Church are-flooded…”
From the-kitchen, the eavesdropping, sarcastic-devil-said…
“… too-bad, Mom – I was really-looking forward to the Sunday-mass service – after the 2-months of the zombie-pandemic…’now’ the church is in low-ground with the rainstorm… hope the St-Mike’s Captain, Father Aloysius hadn’t drowned going-down like-the-Titanic… to be onboard God’s church-ship…”
“Stop talking nonsense, Peter…!” Carol-shouted – and looked at Paul… saying in a calmer-voice…
“I’ll serve you-soup…” Caroline-said and left with the-bundled soiled-laundry…
Paul just-nodded as he had a severe-sore throat to thank her-vocally. He closed the door as he doesn’t want to ‘hear’ his twin’s irritating-voice…
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The mother was distracted by her laundry-washing – and responding to Peter’s nonsensical banters – while, Paul was starving for his soup…
Finally, moments-later, the mother ‘opened’ the door carrying a yellow-wooden tray which-had four 9” legs…
Paul remembered the yellow-tray from 3-years ago…
… where HIS-THEN alive Dad had ‘served’ Caroline’s Sundays brekkie-in-bed… during their happier times in marriage…
… that TRAY HAD gone-missing for 3-years… in the Walkers’ household – and, today’ remerging from thin-air…
Caroline brought-in the tray with a medium-sized bowl of-soup…
… Paul expected chicken soup – but realised that it was Minestrone-soup… where he had-to ‘shared’ a portion of his-vegan mom’s dinner…
… he ‘knew’ his working-class mother’s ‘shortcut’ recipe of Minestrone-soup – where she used a-can of Campbell Tomato-Soup as the-base of the hearty-soup… then add blanched beans, celery-and-carrots… then, adding a cube-of Knorr’s vegetable bouillon…
… the ‘same’ Campbell tomato-soup can which the inspector-mom Andy-Warhol-ed her pasta-Bolo recipe-too, as she cooked-in minced-beef… then, added red-wine…
Caroline left the room after serving the soup – proceeded to have dinner on the-IKEA table with Peter. Peter was ‘not’ interested in any-vegetable-soup – and the-teen proceeded with the main-course of the beef-sauced pasta, with lots of grated-Parmigiana cheese for-saltiness in-taste…
In the windowless-bedroom with rain showering-outside, the-hungry Paul stared at the hot-and-steaming bowl-of red-tomato vegetable-soup… with a spoon and a glass-of warm water on the yellow-tray…
… he was impatient to drink-the-soup with a spoon – instead, he picked-the-bowl up and sipped the salinity-tasting-soup… it felt soo-good passing through-his sore-throat to-belly, as it warmed him-up from the chilled-weather…
… he put the bowl down ‘after’ draining the-soup dry…with the rest-of-the of the solid-ingredients of the hearty-soup at the-base of the-bowl. He then-used the spoon and dug-in to eat the vegetables…
… his big-spoonful ‘got’ sloppy with the several chickpea-beans falling-off and rolled on the tray – then, in-less that 2-minutes, he ‘killed’ a bowl of Minestrone-soup…
… it was a messy-affair – and if his-devil twin HAD SEEN-HIM – there was ‘definitely’ a Godzilla-bantering somewhere…
… but Paul was still famished – for the-2ND-COURSE of Pasta-Bolo, for his-mom to serve him-next…
He waited-and-waited… as his tummy-growled – remembering Brit-TV shows on Netflix, where they rang a tiny-bell for ‘service’…
While waiting for the-food, he ‘distracted’ himself. He took his dream-journal notebook from the side-bedside table – to ‘jot’ down the-yesterday’s dream-mission of-GOE, before he ‘could’ forget:
* THE GODCHILD –???
‘… Jane is about 3-weeks preggo-now – HER ‘BUMP’ isn’t showing-yet… think I can buy ‘time’ before hell-on-high water-broke lose… ‘for’ her-fruit of-her-loin comes…’
* GOING TO PERTHLAND – ‘#1-Rule – don’t kill my devil-twin… and ‘play-the-game’ without killing-any-one else…
Paul slapped his-forehead-and sighed…
… as he had ‘forgotten’ to ask John-See of – of HOW-TO ‘exit’ from Bad-Luck realm-of POST-TREETON to level-up to ‘go’ PERTHLAND…???
… it was all question-marks at-this-point… and he-then jotted-down the 3rd-entry…
* BLAKE-TOWER – the Apocalyptic ‘portal’ BLUE-PRINT… in dad’s garage….
‘I ‘need’ to get them…’
His-stomach growled-loud… he-then picked-up the fallen chic-peas on the tray… resulted from his sloppy-eating using a soup-spoon. It was like eating gold-nuggets as he popped in his-mouth and savoured them, thinking…
… of his-mission where his-soul was an athletic able-bodied teenager, who had solid-6-pack abs… where-else in POST-TREETON he was a ‘fat-cripple’…
Paul sighed…
‘… I looked like Rambo going on-missions in my-Dreamworld – I should look like Rocky in real-life, POST-TREETON – I should ‘lose-weight’…’
… he decided to be pro-active in-motivation – and decided to buy a boxing heavy-duty punching-bag and sweat-it-out ‘when’ home-alone…
The door-opened, Caroline came-in with a plate-of steaming hot-pasta. The mother-asked…
“What are-you writing…?”
Paul shook his-head… croaking…
“… noftin… jus-skuu wakk…”
“Your mid-term exams…?”
The surprised-Paul nodded – realising he had-totally ‘forgotten’ about the mid-Term exams next week for 3-days… Wednesday-to-Friday – and he was ‘not’ prepared too…
“Get well soon…” Carol said as she placed her-palm on Paul's forehead…
The son-nodded…
“… hankz, mumm…”
“Eat your-pasta, and Poe… don’t forget to take your-med. You’ll be ‘well’ for your-exams, okay…?”
Paul nodded…
“… good-boy…”
He saw his-mother leaving the-room with the empty soup-bowl. Paul ‘FELT’ LOVED when Caroline called-him ‘a’ good-boy – and wondered if his-mother had ‘forgiven’ him for the deep-fake Tarzan-sex video-mess… that featured a fat-midget lookalike…
… and, remembered-too THE SLAP he-got when the inspector-mother ‘interrogated’ him, in Principal Harris’ office…
He saw the heavy-beef sauced-pasta in his-tray… his-stomach trumpeted in-delight as he sat, even had a mild-flatulence indication the-colon that the Minestrone is-in-fibre process for tomorrow’s dunny-business…
He went for-it…
Twirling the-noodle with his-fork, Paul ate his first-mouthful of the pasta – in teary-eyes he spat-out ‘half’ of-it on-the-plate… as he felt the stings of red-hot spiciness that burnt his tongue and even his-sore throat-too… when he-had swallowed-half…
… saliva-built-up and his-tongue was swelling, and he drank the glass-of-warm water… and, wished that Caroline had served him iced-cubed cold-water instead…
… thick-mucus formed in his-sore-throat – and he swallowed-it in-pain, while remembering…
… going to the bathroom just-now – where HE ‘CAUGHT’ his devil-twin modifying the pasta-Bolo behind Caroline’s back by grinding-in black-pepper…
He was-pissed angry…
‘Are you trying to Putin-poison me… you bloody-devil…?'
Paul calmed-down his negative emotions – and, thought ‘straight,’ that…
… Peter was ‘not’ poisoning-him… as he had the ‘SAME’ MEAL – where the-devil loved his-pasta pepper-spiced-up… while Paul like it moderate-spiced – as he feared-constipation…
… he-then ‘remembered’ a YouTube weight-loss video… where it mentioned that black-pepper was a good-spice as fat-burners…
‘… huh… no wonder the-devil HAS A 6-pack ab…’
Paul was ‘glad’ he had learnt a ‘new’ trick… from his-devil twin…
‘… if it-works FOR HIM – it should work ‘for’ me-too… cos’ we’re Gemini-Twins…
The obese-teen made-a diet-change, and learned-to savour the acquired-taste of his-devil twin – and in no-time, he was sweating and salivating a-lot… while wiped the platter-clean while his-rebellious tummy did a Dickens’ Oliver-Twist of ‘begging’ for more…
But-Paul refrained from asking his-mother for a 2nd-serving as he was ‘serious’ about losing-weight. He switched on-his iPad and searched for a heavy-duty punching-bag to-buy online…
… he looked at the high-end brand ‘Everlast,’ and his-jaw dropped as it cost ‘both’ his arms-and-legs… leaving him-limbless – and he then-settled with a China-made brand that wouldn’t blow his allowance-budget…
… he pressed the ADD-TO-Cart button for a Monday-delivery… an-initial effort to his barrel-shaped belly to-be ‘transformed’ soon-into 6-pack-abs…
Paul laid-back in the-bed… while his belly was generating good-feeling warmth to his-entire body in the chilled rainy weather. Before he got-into a carb-coma – Caroline walked in to collect the food-tray… and reminding-him to take the paracetamol and to-sleep it off…
Paul obliged to her-suggestions…
The mother bent-and ‘kissed’ his forehead and took-out the food-tray and – it was lights-out for him @9:11 pm…
Paul ‘smiled’ to-himself in the darkened-room…
‘… she ‘did’ forgive-me…’
… there WAS ‘SOMETHING’ about the yellow food-tray that ‘made’ the-connection… which was ‘missing’ for 3-years since his-dad died…
… where-else, the-rest of his-personal things were ‘stored’ in the-garage, ever-since Solomon-Walker ‘died’ in the BMW-road crash…
Paul chuckled as he ‘suspected’ that his-mother HAD ‘KEPT’ the yellow-tray in her bedroom… as a-romantic gesture MEMENTO… of-remembrance that her late-hubby who-had ‘once’ served-her brekkie in-bed on THAT TRAY…
The teen-then yawned-deep… and released a silent-fart before – drifting to-sleep in the chilled-rainy-weather.
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3 HOURS LATER, after-midnight – the teenager rudely-woke to the sound-of a deafening-thunder outside… that reminded of his-mission…
… in just-now’s Battle-in The Garden-Of-Eden – of unexpected loud-sounds were-heard in the-dark… where Evil ‘forced’ Good into blindness of the darkness caused by the-diabolical Red Moon-eclipse…
Paul was WIDE-AWAKE thinking of the-terrifying demons he fought-in-the-dark… and before he developed PTSD, he thought-of-happy thoughts of victory, like…
… he rescued Jane from the-incubus – that was ‘disturbing’ her in her sleep, in-her-bedroom… he even ‘defeated-and-wounded’ the entity that-escaped – Jane-then rewarded him a passionate-kiss, where he was her-knight in shiny-armour…
He laid in the-dark thinking of his-girlfriend… who ‘had’ called-him, Saturday @3:37 PM earlier… when he was ‘out-cold’ KO-ed by fever for-sleeping 21-straight hours…
‘… didn’t you get a ‘fever-too,’ Jane…? But you were tired and-weak after the-battle – remember, I ‘RESCUED’ YOU from-being taken by-the centaur-horsemen…? Yea, I-then carried-you in-my-arms to the-Pentateuch – then later in that ‘boring’ meeting… you dozed-off tired…’
… he remembered the Wolfman’s fierce-growls when he ‘tried’ to wake-her-up during the-meeting – then-later, the protector-werewolf carried the-sleeping Jane in-his-arms ‘back’ to the-Pentateuch…
Paul looked at the time in the-dark – it was 12:13 Sunday-AM. He saw the journal-notebook beside the alarm-clock – where he had ‘jotted-down’ tasks to perform in POST-TREETON in order to ‘level-up’ in PERTHLAND…
… the motivated-teen sprung-up from his-bed – levitated in the dark, and heard the hard-rain pouring-outside… but-first he needed to-pee. Paul opened the room-door-slightly ajar to peek-out…
… the kitchen-lights were off – indicating his inspector-mom and the-devil-twin were upstairs sleeping in-the rainy-night. Paul left his wheelchair behind in the-room… and levitated to get to the-bathroom. He was aware that there were no home-surveillance-cameras ‘recording’ his-secret-feat…
After peeing, Paul returned in-the-darkness to the kitchen to peek-at his dog in the backyard. He realized that Caroline had tied the-mutt at the backdoor’s wash-basin ‘away’ from the-rain. He saw though-the window that Kitty was sleeping on the backdoor’s rug in the stormy-weather…
‘… poor-girl…’
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The 21-hours of sleep ‘did-good’ for the-teen as he was-now focused to think-clear – of John-See’s instructions of finding the architectural blueprints of the Blake-Tower… for his ‘homework’ assignment to memorise-it – for his-PERTHLAND’s mission…
There was A SIDE-DOOR from the kitchen-to the outside-garage – behind the marbled kitchen-counter, near the fridge. Paul was thirsty and grabbed a-coke and drank-half… as he-then proceed-to open the side-door…
… it was dark when he stepped into-the garage – it stank – Paul placed his coke-can on the long workbench… and, pulled the cord of the tungsten lightbulb – his jaw-dropped when he saw that the-flood rainwater from the front-lawn had seeped under the garage-door…
… to form a pool in the centre of the-garage of 3” drain-stinking water… and all of the stored-cardboard boxes of his-father’s home-office personal items along… with Peter’s boxes of collectables WERE-ALL WET in-the-rising pool of water…
Paul counted 12 boxes:
* 5 OF SOLOMON’s – they were large sealed cardboard-boxes which were wet in the-bottom, submerged into the 3’’-water. There was an open-box with a large-wicker basket of over-50 scrolls of blueprints of his architect-father à that were ‘worth’ saving
* 7 OF PETER’s – with the-devil’s bolded handwriting of ‘PROPERTY OF PETER W. – DON’T TOUCH!!!’ on-top of all 7-light-weight cardboard-boxes… which-were all floating like model sailboats in the pool of stagnant-drain water. The ‘loots’ were the devil’s ‘perceived’ prized hoarding possessions à that were ‘not’ worth saving
Paul levitated over the ‘floating’ boxes – and wanted to ‘rescue’ the-blueprints first… but made a mistake of carrying the wet-box – where the bottom broke with Paul falling-back… splashing into 3” water, trying – to ‘save’ the wicker-basket of vertically stacked-scrolls from being-wet…
… Paul levitated-back carrying the wicker-basket and placed it on the work-bench… cursing that he was ‘wet’ in the stinking-water. He took a sip of the carbonated-coke drink and looked-over at his late father’s OTHER-4 sealed-boxes… and ‘felt’ sad, as everything would be deemed-ruined and thrown-away – ‘when’ the damage-control inspector-mom woke-up later in the-morning…
He decided to ‘save’ all-the items in the-other 4 sealed-big boxes. Paul took a screwdriver from the tool-rack and flew-over and rested his cripple-body in-top on one of-the boxes – with one-hand, holding the-screwdriver… ripping the-strip on-the sealed duct-tape…
… it was architectural-books from Solomon’s library in his home-office – that reminded Paul when he was 9-year-old… seeing the office with racks filled-with books about his dad’s passionate-profession…
‘… it’s worth ‘saving’…’
Paul had to manually-haul the hardcopy books to safety… without ‘getting’ clumsy and dropping books in-the-water. He cursed when he had to splosh-into the filthy-water to do the task -- of carrying 10 of books at-a-time to the higher one-step level at the kitchen-door…where the work-bench was. The obese-teen was sweating as he heavier the books by piling them-into several-stacks beside the door…
… he could ‘only save ¾ of the books while the other rest of the ¼ were soaked-wet ‘that’ couldn’t be saved. Paul-then ripped the 2nd-big cardboard-box…
… to ‘find a set of Architectural-Encyclopaedia in the carton-box… IT REMINDED Paul of the destruction of the Tree-of-Knowledge ‘yesterday’ during the BATTLE-OF-GOE when Metatron dropped the bomb--so that mankind WOULDN’T HAVE ‘future-knowledge’ to rebuild civilization when eminent DESTRUCTIONS OCCURRED…
‘… it’s worth saving…’
… he justified-that by without the Tree-Of-Wisdom ‘existence’ any-more – he SHOULD RESPECT the little-knowledge of the ‘PRESENT’ WISDOM-of-books…
…and PRESERVE IT…
… ‘after’ regretting…
… where he-himself once wanted to CHOP-DOWN the Tree-Of-Knowledge – ‘when’ in-raged with the Keeper-Of-Garden, Kerubiel… who ‘TRICKED’ HIM by giving a ‘bad-apple,’ but fortunately-he was ‘STOPPED’ BY the Red-demon from taking-down the-Tree…
… and ‘now’ the-irony was-that – the-Tree WAS-DEAD… when Metatron dropped-the-BOMB…
‘… it’s worth saving…’
… was his mental-mantra…
He carried 5 heavy books at a-time and ‘not-be a heavy-handed-gauche… and made a ‘new’ stacked at the door that was up-to his waist.
Paul made 5 trips carrying the encyclopaedia-books and found 8-books were underwater – and felt heartbroken. He decided to SAVE-IT ‘ALL’ so that there was a ‘complete’ full-volume…
He ripped the semi-soaked cardboard-box – and struggled to lift the well-sealed-box aided by water-pressure gravity – he found-his Godzilla-strength and the-box’s bottom-then ripped and he heaved-it over his head, and threw it at the garage-door where, the stinking-flood water was-seeped…
… he ‘rescued’ the 8 hardcover books – he laid them open-paged to dry and placed tools like a carpentry-hammer and wrenches as dead-weight on the book. Paul panted as he perspired a-lot where-else it was rainy-weather ‘outside’ – BUT FELT satisfied at the row of books drying on the floor, while sipping his coke…
… his heart-pricked that he could ‘not’ save ‘more’ of Solomon’s books from the first-box – so the teen decided to next ‘rescue’ the ¼ box of soaked books…
… Paul ‘rescued’ over 40-books – he arranged them open-paged in a-row at the high-ground – before proceeding to open the 3rd-box, which-was medium sized-box. He ripped and slashed the top of the carton to discover manuscripts of the architectural projects that his-late dad ‘had’ built…
‘… it’s worth saving…’
… but the manuscripts were ‘badly’ damaged – but Paul carried-back 10-of the wet-books in a-single trip… and stacked them on the long workbench…
After 30 manuscripts – Paul proceeded to open THE 4TH-BOX that was medium-sized too. The screwdriver ripped the sticky-tape… and, Paul discovered more manuscripts. He carried the soaked-paged content-over to the work-bench…
… now there were slightly more than 50-manuscripts – the sweaty fat-teen panted as he discovered that his while T-shirt was black-stained with the black-ink of his father’s manuscripts…
… he looked-over at THE ‘FINAL’ carton, floating towards the-devil’s boxes at the garage-door…
Paul flew-over with the screwdriver in his-back shorts’ pocket – the ripping the box to see the tools-of-the-trade stationaries of an-architect… among other things…
… Paul remembered the tabletop world-globe on Solomon’s table – an incident 3-years-ago where his-dad had-scolded the-devil when he was rough in ‘spinning’ it… telling him that it was ‘not’ a-toy – Peter-then asked him if time-could BE ‘REVERSED’ if the-globe spun counter clockwise just-like in the Superman’ movie…?
Paul can’t remember ‘what’ his father’s time-reversal answer-was – but from-that day-onwards, Solomon’s home-office was OUT-OF-BOUND to his pesky Gemini-Twin-sons… and he would shout-out to ‘deter’ both-of-them from ‘disturbing’ him…
He’ll take the table-top globe as a memento – as his-hand scavenged the bottom of the soggy-box to see if ‘anything-else’ that would-be a keepsake in ‘remembrance’ to his-late-father – who went ‘too-soon,’ @young-age of 38…
The teen ‘found’ something – as he pulled-out Solomon’s iPhone-8 from being grubby-water – he was ‘overjoyed’ when he found-it…
‘… finder-keepers…’
He put it into his back-pocket of his drenched-wet shorts. Paul accumulated as many of the architect-father’s personal-items – and hid it ‘under’ the work-bench… for ‘them’ to dry…
Paul-then levitated to the ceiling – for one ‘LAST’ CHECK… and only saw the-devil’s 7-boxes in the squalid water… 2 of the lightweight-boxes were spinning-circles like ice-rink skaters in the pool of the ‘rising’ rain-water…
… he was extremely-tired ‘after’ more than an-hour sorting-out… ‘when’ rescuing his-father’s personal-items – and he needed A-HOT shower badly, as he smelt-funky. Paul drank-up his coke… crushed the-can and left-it on the workbench…
He-then grabbed the wicker-basket of scrolled-blueprints…
… switched-off the tungsten-light – to make-way in the gloom… to GO-TO his windowless bedroom….
… when, everyone-else in the House-Of-Walker was sound-asleep in the cold-Sunday witching-hours.
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THE PLUS-SIZED TEENAGER was wearing only-a towel… as he-levitated in the-dark, ‘after’ having a shampoo and brush-scrubbed his-body of the-stench, in the-hot-shower. He opened the-room door… and saw that alarm-clock, displaying – 3:13-AM…
… a thunder-crashed and the storm-winds blew hard over the roof-of the… giving-vibrations TO THE-walls of the Walker-House…
Paul was wide awake, having his 2nd-can of-coke – in his-towel, he sat on the wheelchair… and was-in mission-mode – to find the blueprint to Mayor John-Blake’s pharmaceutical Blake-Tower building…
… the wicker-basket of over-50 architectural blueprints was beside him… of the ‘only’ items that he ‘rescued’ that was-luckily ‘not’ wet. He began to un-scroll the first blueprint on his single-bed as a table…
After the 10th-blueprint scroll, Paul was blown-away by his-dad’s accomplishments in his architectural-works which were mainly in other cities and towns in Western-Australia, outside Perth-city…
… where he was involved in the port-projects in the coasts of Coral-Bay and Port Hedland. A public-school in Laverton, and a shopping mall in Leonora… factories in Halls-Creek and Newman…
… Solomon’s name and signature was in every-blueprint – except-for mega-projects where there were several ‘joint’ co-architects – THAT-HAD ‘motivated’ Paul to pursue his father’s profession…
… he sighed as it ‘involved’ Math – his WEAKEST SUBJECT… that led-him to a cluster-of ‘negative-thoughts’ OF ‘NOT’ graduating from SHS…
‘… you ‘were’ soo-successful, Dad – where did your-money go…? Oh-yea, you had a gambling-addiction… and mom was dealing with the-BANK DEBTS that you-left-us behind ‘after’ you-died – she said you ‘blew-away’ our education-fund, and… she could ‘not’ afford to send ‘either’ of us to pursue private-courses as Plan-B… IN-CASE, we don’t graduate in SHS…
‘… well-DON’T TALK about your-favourite-son, the-Devil – he’s ‘got’ a rich-girlfriend whose uncle-Jared just ‘optioned’ our-house – and transferred the deed to Peter’s name…
‘… what ABOUT ME, Dad – ‘where’ WOULD I GO from-here…!!?’
Paul sighed-again to ‘his’ BLAME-GAME negative-thoughts – and he-then thought ‘clearer to boost-up his-moral and-he self-motivated himself…
‘… I don’t blame-you… gambling-is-a-sickness, as I’m-told – but I love you, Dad, ‘no-matter’ what… and… I want to be in your-creative and rewarding career! But to DO-SO, I’ve to buck-up on my-Math subject in-school…
‘… yea, I’ll ‘figure’ it-out, Dad… even-if I don’t-graduate, I’ll self-finance to study a ‘draftsmen’ course and work-myself up to your-beacon of profession of-architecture… probably working as a-draftsman in-the-shadow of ‘who’s-who’ architects of-Perth…
‘… I ‘promise’… I won’t let-you down… as a ‘loser’ son…’
Paul realised that he-was crying as he ‘got’ too-emo… ever-since he ‘rescued’ his-father’s treasured books and personal-items in the-garage. He wiped his tears… and felt chilly by the cold-walls – but Paul was too-LAZY TO LEVITATE to-the-closet to get either-a T-shirt-or-sweater…
… the half-naked fat teen in his-yellow towel, sat like the-Buddha in the-wheelchair – still thinking of his father, Solomon… in happier-times ‘while’ alive – where, Paul-and-Peter watched Sunday-cartoon on-TV, while dad carried the-yellow-tray of brekkie for-mom…
Paul looked at the table-clock – 4:06-AM… and realised that he had-unconsciously looked at over-40 blueprints while reminiscing his-late father. He looked at the wicker-basket with ‘only’ a dozen ‘more’ scrolls that stood-vertical in-it…
… he sipped his-coke as he ‘pulled’ the next-blueprint and spread-it on his-bed… he almost spat his-drink in-surprise – as HE HAD ‘un-scrolled’ the blueprint of The-Blake-Tower…
In his mission-mode, Paul focused and studied the ‘layout’ – with his-father’s name imprinted, with his signature, as the-design-creator. The teen went-back to his-blame-game…
‘How could you, Dad!!? They’re building a ‘portal’ of Satan’s army for the End-Times… where ‘your’ designed-building is the gateway from Underworld to-Perth…!’
Paul then-thought clearer-and-rationally…
‘… wait-a-minute – dad ‘died’ 3-years-ago… it’s ‘ONLY’ NOW, they are building the-diabolic ‘portal’ in Washington DC – therefore, dad is ‘NOT’ INVOLVED in this ‘future’ atrocious-crimes of biblical-proportionà dad should ‘NOT’ BE-BLAMED for the-Evil’s side’s ruthless intentions to ‘wipe-out’ mankind on-earth… he’s JUST AN-innocent architect who was commissioned with the building ‘the’ project… OR, IS he…!?’
The confused youngster took another-sip of coke – and went-back to-study the layout of the Blake-building… his untrained-eyes could ‘only’ see a vertical building with 99-floors. Paul looked at the architectural-markings ‘appeared’ similar in each-floor…
… the teen-then looked for ‘any’ odd-anomalies in the architectural-markings itself – and soon found-one @the-33rd-Floor… with an ‘Omega’ sign…
The 33rd-floor had no-access TO THE ‘OTHER’ FLOORS… vice-verse – ‘except’ the penthouse-suite office @the 99th-floor, WHICH ‘DOES’ – where IT HAD an-elevator access of travelling 66-floors to the-33rd-floor…
Every-hair in the half-naked Paul-stood…
‘… this is ‘where’ THE-ACTION IS in Perthland…’
… he ‘imagined’ Tom-Cruise of Mission Impossible – who hung-on-cables when he was ‘dropped’ into the CIA-fortress… Cruise ‘fell’ from-above and was inches-away floating ‘above’ from the-floor – that-would ‘triggered’ the intruder-alarm…
… Paul ‘visualised’ himself-doing Cruise’s cable-stunt as he-too dropped from-above… but the alarm-bell went-off when his flabby-belly ‘scrapped’ the-floor – leading to John-Blake’s henchmen ‘capturing’ him and ‘executing’ him -- Game-Over…
… just-like Lord-Stamford’s bodyguards-too ‘shot-him-dead’ -- Game-Over @the Stamford-Hotel in PERTHLAND…
… punching-hard on-his own-belly – he thought-in-conviction…
‘… I ‘seriously’ got-to lose weight… and have-my 6-pack abs to go-to ‘that’ Perthland mission…’
… he-then patted his-back – that he had been-proactive in losing-weight as he-had ‘ordered’ his punching heavy-bag à that came with a FREE pair-of UFC/MMA half-finger gloves… that ‘saved’ his-budget of buying the-gloves separately…
‘… I ‘seriously’ got-to lose weight – even-though, I seriously-too don’t like-any fighting especially, getting punched in the face… yea, IN THAT-Battle-Of-GOE in the Dreamworld… I was fast-and-agile as Gemini-Blue cos’ I had 6-pack abs instead of a-Beer-barrel…
‘… it was THE-ONLY mission-battle, I didn’t get ‘hit’ in-the-face – I kept-the-distance, and used my ‘sweet-science’ superpower to-kill…’
Smiling to-himself, Paul sat-back comfy in his-wheelchair… feeling-good as he-did-well as-a-supe in his mission-role under the-command of High-monk, SeeIn. Paul grinned as he-then looked left at the wicker-basket – with a-dozen-odd remaining blueprints-left…
… an odd-anomaly ‘caught’ his-eye – it was a small red-marking on the sleeve-of ‘one’ of the blueprints…
… that was the symbol of ‘Ω’…
“OMEGA!”
Paul jumped in-joy…
‘… you’re leaving-me ‘clues,’ aren’t you, Dad…!!?’
The enthusiastic-teen un-scrolled the omega-symbolled blueprint on his-bed. The 33rd-floor was called THE OMEGA-LEVEL – that was a secret ‘restricted’ floor… that can ‘only’ be accessed from the 99th-floor, by a private-elevator…
Even-though, he wasn’t trained, where he ‘couldn’t’ read-manuscripts – but Paul ‘made’ educated-guesses based on John-See’s time-travelling mission-intel…
… that an arc-reactor would-be in the 33rd-floor, Omega-Level – which would power the diabolic Doomsday-portal on the roof-of-the Blake-Tower in the-next PERTHLAND… Paul’s Mission-Impossible role was to ‘destroy’ the arc-reactor…
Paul was overwhelmed with defeating-thoughts of ‘NOT’ READY for the future mission – and went-on his blame-game…
‘… that bloody-MAYOR MISUSED dad’s architectural schematics – of the Omega-level, with Evil-intentions of destroying mankind…’
He looked-back at the-scroll for-odd anomalies – and found it too different from the other-98-floors… as the Omega-level was hexagon-shaped in-its interior, with-exterior of concrete-reinforcement so-that the 33rd-floor was a fortified-fortress…
Paul had seen the black-coloured pharmaceutical Blake-Tower before – located in uptown city-district in Perth. The tall-building was rectangle-shaped in exterior…
‘… why’s the Omega-Level hexagon in-its interior…?’
Paul then-assumed…
‘… I’m guessing – maybe the Underworld’s Blackmagic worked-well if it’s hexagon-shaped … to POWER-UP ‘rooftop’ the portal…’
… the youngster had wandered-off into ‘other’ dimensions before in his-OBE REM-sleeps – where he came to the radioactive post-nuclear Perth – where, the entire-city was ruined… except-for the Dark-Tower, Blake-Tower – the ONLY-BUILDING standing ‘after’ the Big-Nuke-blast…
… 20-years in-the-future…
… on-the rooftop was A GIANT-EYE – just like the Eye-Of-Sauron from the Lord-Of-The-Rings movies – keeping surveillance of OUTSIDE-THREATS to the Dark-Tower…
Paul put 2-and-2 together…
‘… the eyeball monster that was in the Battle-Of-GOE’s Red-Moon Eclipse – IT WOULD-be in PERTHLAND too… keeping a lookout for-the-portal – HOW AM I gonna get-in to the 99th-floor elevator…?’
His confidence-level dropped like a-potato falling-off from a grocery-bag…
Paul-then thought-in the-positive…
‘… I’ll figure it-out ‘when’ I get to-PERTHLAND – no-need to get-my diapers in-a-bunch -- as I GOT ‘MORE’ immediate-problems in my-silver platter in-POST-TREETON… of Jane ‘being’ preggo…’
Paul sighed-deep…
‘… enjoy my-problems… as always…’
The teenager finished his-coke…and crushed-the-can in-conviction that-he’ll find-a-way to ‘infiltrate’ the Blake-Tower…
He-then yawned, and looked at his alarm-clock – 5:14 AM… with rain still showering outside. Paul was mentally-tired and looked at the floor with over-50 scrolls scattered in his windowless-room…
… he decided to ‘clear’ the mess before he went-to-bed – it would be ‘disrespectful’ to leave his late-dad’s treasured-legacy-works in the-floor… in his-towel, he levitated below to pick-up the blueprints to gather them in the large-wicker basket…
… Paul decided to keep the basket of scrolls in his-bedroom as A MEMENTO – and also a visual-reminder to anchor-a ‘reminder’ that… he ‘should’ pay-attention to his dreaded Math-subject – if his-ambition was TO BE ‘PART’ of Solomon-Walker’s architectural legacy…
… a Next-Gen of world-builder…
Paul got-off the-towel and put on his-night clothes to go to-bed.
He floated to his-bed with the 2 Blake-Tower blueprints on-top– and decided that his-next’ after-dark’ mission in the Walker-House was to ‘sneak’ to the-garage… and gather intel of the Blake-Tower in the drying WET-MANUSCRIPTS on the-workbench…
He yawned and placed the Blake-Tower blueprints ‘under’ the-bed… for save-keeping. He looked at the-time – 5:28 AM – and switched-off the table-lamp and sat on-the bed in the-dark…
… Paul pulled his-lifeless legs and blanketed the-lower limbs, as he collapsed-slowly to the pillow… and his backache began-to shoot and he slept on-his-side to ease the-pain…
… thinking of ‘more’ than an-hour-long labour-of-love in-rescuing his-dad’s books just-now…
… and, regretting-too in-guilt – that 1/3 of his father’s belongings were wet…
… before-long, Paul drifted to-slumber…
<><>
A 16-YEAR-OLD, Jane visited Paul in-his-sleep – in the avatar of the Hindu-Goddess, Kali form. She was dressed in an-Indian saree-costume. The entity was making clinking bell-sounds in the-dark from her ankle-bracelets and-wrist-bangles, when she walked to his-bed…
… she was dark-skinned… but had long-flowing blonde-hair from-head-to her waist – and she was-6 months-pregnant…
…her forehead had a-long vertical-crimson Bindi with an-eyeball of the-3rd-eye. She had other Indian cosmetic-ornament in-her-face like a big-nose-ring piercing – wearing heavy glittering gold-jewellery in his necklaces and boubled-shaped earrings. The Kali-Jane was-in blood-red lipstick… and her 8” tongue hung-out her-mouth, with 2” fangs…
She got into the-bed beside the sleeping-Paul and started to kiss-him – and touching his private-part. Paul was-rudely awakened by the arousal… opening his-eyes in the-gloom-to an up-close of a dark-skinned woman with 3-eyes…
… the terrified-Paul shrieked and jumped-out the bed, holding his-chest with his fast-beating heart – and-then put his-hands to his-belly that was rock-hard…
‘… it’s a ‘dream’ – I only-have 6-pack-abs in my-dream…’
The entity was giggling on the-bed… and Paul looked-hard to-see that it WAS-JANE – but with a skin-complexion ‘similar’ to the Australian-Aborigine – she was older like the sexy teenager, Jane-variant of PERTHLAND… because the entity had big-boobs…
… but what was prominent was her-long bushy blonde-mane… that contrasted-odd with her black-skin – looking like the X-men’s Mystique, who-too had dark-skin and red-hair…
‘… but Jane cut her-hair short recently…’
He picked-up his-courage, to-ask…
“Jane! Is that ‘you’…!?”
“… hehehe, ‘who-else’ were you ‘expecting’ – come to-bed, Pauly…”
“… but… you ‘look’ different’…!’
“… hehehe – don’t we all… come to-bed, my-love…”
Paul refused to-move – and-noticing her elongated-tongue and-fangs…
“… err-Jane, can you put your-tongue-in please – it’s scary to-look…”
“… Okay-dear, I’ll be ‘less’ scary, hehehe…”
He remembered the-Time-Traveller saying the Jane-Wilson had the ‘other’ avatar of the raging-Hindu Goddess, Kali…
… he remembered-too ‘meeting’ the OG-Kali in Samsara, the Hindu-heaven – where she had 6-arms holding-weapons of machetes-and-spears – that-then decapitated the-sacrificial WHITE-GOAT… and drank its-blood – and the rampaging mad-woman was-finally ‘killed’ by another Hindu-deity on a white-horse…
… it was a divine-intervention THAT ‘FREED’ his-father, Solomon from his-333-years of reincarnation-cycles – an instant-Karma of unleashing his-soul too in Purgatory – to-be ‘REBORN’ AS a-man in the ‘next-life’…
Paul asked…
“Jane, what DO-YOU ‘want’…!?”
He saw the-entity sobbing before getting-off the-bed – the terrified-Paul backed-away to the wall when the crying-preggo entity came-closer to him…
“It’s your devil-twin – Peter is ‘going’ to kill OUR-BABY – we’ve to stop him… we ‘must’ kill Peter first…!!!”
It confused the 13-year-old – who was told by John-See to ‘NOT’ TO kill-anyone in playing-the-game. A mistake he ‘made’ in PERTHLAND where he ‘killed’ 3-people – with repercussions of daily-bad-luck in POST-TREETON…
“We must kill him, Pauly…!”
He realised that the-entity was ‘misguiding’ him… so-that, he WOULDN’T LEVEL-UP to continue his-mission as Perth’s Accidental-superhero…
… he doesn’t ‘TRUST’ HIS girlfriend either…
‘… she’s 50-50 of the Cursed-Trio – a Soulmate-Of-2…’