Time was a fickle creature. It was always too slow or too fast. It was rare to ever hear a person say that was just the perfect amount of time. For Timmy, time had become a treacherous bitch. She kept speeding up making everything blur around him. Then she would almost stop altogether, every tick of the second hand felt like an eternity. Then she would just bugger off altogether and Timmy would blink and everyone had moved like he had fallen out of existence for a few minutes. He kept sweating, no matter how much he wiped at his face, there would be more sweat. Which was strange because his mouth felt so dry. Where was all this water coming from? Was he sweating blood? Can you sweat blood? He should ask Wally. Where was Wally?

Where am I?

Timmy blinked and looked around. He was in a pub. No wait, he was in a pub. Now he wasn’t. Where was he? Was he moving? No, his legs were still but he was moving. Timmy’s vision lurched from left to right. There were men chanting and roaring, holding up burning torches, their faces lit like demonic spirits. Timmy was marching with them. He was shouting too. He didn’t know what he was saying. How much Slug did he have? No… it wasn’t just Slug. Broken fragments of images came to him. He saw himself guzzling pints of dark ale. He saw images of himself sniffing some yellow powder with a gaggle of cackling morons. Then he ate something someone gave him. It was the rodent faced man. He was cackling the whole time. Then he remembered being sick. Very sick.

Music was thumping all around him. It was a horrible sound. Too loud. Too much base. It echoed and reverberated in his chest, inside his skull, it was too much. Timmy blinked heavily and looked around again. They weren’t marching. They were dancing. Wild chaotic dancing, all limbs and jerky movements. Torches were being waved. Pints were being downed. There was screaming and shouting and chanting and stomping and thumping.

Timmy felt his head swim. He needed air. Why was there no air? He stumbled through the crowd, pushing and shoving. A hand grabbed his wrist and pulled him. Timmy didn’t even resist. He let the hand drag him away. Where was it taking him? Somewhere quiet hopefully where he could lay down and close his eyes.

They were outside now. It was quieter and the cool night air felt so good on his sweat drenched face.

“Tim! Tim!”

“Who’s that?”

“Timmy, it’s me!”

Timmy’s eyes swam into focus and he saw Wally’s face. Timmy almost burst into tears. In fact, he did.

“Oh Wally! Where have you been? What’s happening? Wally? Wally?”

“Easy now mate, I’m here.”

“Wally!” Timmy grabbed the front of his shirt and pulled him close. “Wally, can you sweat blood?”

“Wot?”

“Where does time go when you’re not around?”

“Easy now big fella,” Wally said, gently extricating himself from Timmy’s frantic grasp. “We need to get you sobered up.”

Wally led him around the building he had rescued him from to a small stable around the back.

“Look, it’s horshesh!” Timmy gasped.

“Yeah, come on, just a little further.” Wally led him to the trough that the horses were drinking from.

“Can I pet it?” Timmy slurred.

“I wouldn’t.”

“Why?”

Wally sighed and then grabbed Timmy’s head and dunked it into the trough. The water was icy cold. Timmy couldn’t even scream. He gasped for air like a fish on land, splashing about and scaring away the horses. After a few seconds Wally let him up.

“Ahp ahpp aahhhp,” Timmy gasped, fighting to get air into his lungs.

Wally dunked his head again and again and again. Finally, he let him up. Timmy flopped onto the edge of the trough coughing and spluttering.

“There we go,” Wally said. “Feel better?”

Strangely, Timmy did. He was freezing cold but suddenly the world was back in focus. He still felt like he was underwater but at least it was water now and not a thick gelatinous pudding.

“Y-y-yes,” Timmy stammered, nodding and wiping water out of his face.

“Good. Coz you’ve been off yer tits for like three hours now.”

“T-th-three hours?”

“Yep.”

“Where are we? Are we at the r-r-rally?”

“Yep.”

“Sh-sh-shit.”

“Don’t worry, you ain’t missed much,” Wally said. “Bunch of ‘orrible music and dancing and drinking. Been some speeches to. These lot are sick in the ‘eads.”

“Oh no. I was chanting too.”

“Yeah but you was makin’ ‘bout as much as sense as a pisshead in a Gnommish brothel.”

“Have you… did you find him?” Timmy was sitting now, his back against the trough, trying to force his brain to stop spinning. “What did I take?”

“Pretty much anything anyone offered you once the Slug kicked in. You’ve probably had half a dozens pints to go along wiv it.”

“Ughhh I think I’m gonna be sick.”

“And no I ain’t found ‘im yet. By the sounds of it, no one ‘as. They’re all waiting on the great Goblin killer ‘Unter to come and give ‘em a big speech, but apparently ‘e ain’t turned up yet.”

“You think that’s true?” Timmy asked, spitting bile out of his mouth.

“Dunno. While you was in there neckin’ it off wiv that fat bird, I was round the front keepin’ an eye. Couple of cabs pulled up and a whole mob of these twats come out. Some of ‘em looked like they was really up there the way they was being treated. But it was too dark to get a proper look at any of ‘em.”

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“I was doing what?”

“Neckin’ it wiv some fat bird. Was proper filthy, Tim. I expected better of you.”

“Oh gosh,” Timmy gurgled, just before a torrent of vomit exploded from his mouth.

“Easy there mate,” Wally said, rubbing his back. “Better out that in.”

Timmy vomited for an impossibly long time before the torrent finally subsided. He sat back against the trough, his head lolling.

“You alright?”

Timmy nodded and wiped his sleeve across his mouth.

“Did you see where they went?”

“Who? The fat bird?”

“No! The thugs in the cab.”

“Oh yeah, they went round the back. Seems like there’s a private party goin’ on.”

“We need to get in there.”

“You sure you’re alright to do this, Tim?”

Timmy nodded and held out his hand. Wally grabbed him and hauled his friend to his feet.

“Tim, if ‘e is back there… wot are we gonna do?” Wally asked as Timmy brushed himself down and tried to find his equilibrium.

“Arrest him. Right?”

“Yeah right,” Wally said.

If Timmy was more coherent perhaps he would have noticed the edge in Wally’s voice. As it was, he was struggling to get one foot reliably in front of the other without stumbling. They made their way around the warehouse, the heavy thundering drums and chanting filling the air as they came closer to the door. There were shaven headed louts loitering all around the entrance, drinking, puking, and pissing lustily.

“‘Unter not made his speech yet?” Wally asked one of them.

“Naa, fock knows where he’s got to!” the youth responded after spitting on the ground. “We bin waiting all night!”

“Shame,” Wally said, “Maybe ‘e’s got ‘eld up in the blockades.”

“Naa, couple lads spotted him earlier.”

“He’s round the back, probably shaggin’ a couple birds ‘fore he comes out!” his leery eyed mate said, grabbing his crotch and sticking out his tongue.

“Wish there were a few more birds here,” said the other one as Timmy and Wally kept walking.

“We’ve gotta get in round the back,” Wally said once they were out of earshot. “Maybe there’s a window or sumfin we can sneak in through.”

“Hope it’s a big window,” Timmy said, too gone still to realise he was now poking fun at himself.

The sounds of the rally died down behind them as they reached the corner of the building. The warehouse really was in the middle of nowhere. They had travelled for over an hour out in the marshes and woodlands on the edge of the city. There was only one disused road in and out and no lights other than the fires the Humans First Militia had lit. The moon was bright in the sky, but it was creating more shadows than it dispelled. There was nothing but tall grass and trees for as far as the eye could see. If this went wrong they really would just disappear out here. Wally swallowed and suppressed this thought. They hadn’t come this far to only come this far. He pressed himself against the corner of the building and pulled his bumbling partner behind him. Wally peeked his head around the corner and then quickly pulled it back.

“There’s two fellas standin’ guard outside the door,” he hissed at Timmy.

“Are they big?”

“Looked it.”

“Are they armed?”

“I dunno.”

“Check.”

Wally tutted and then carefully peaked around the corner again.

“Well?”

“Dunno can’t tell.”

“We could rush ‘em.”

“And then wot?”

“Ermm…”

“We gotta sneak in,” Wally said. “There’s no way we could fight ‘em all off.”

“Right, right,” Timmy said, nodding his head, his pink cheeks jiggling. “We need the element of surprise.”

“‘Xactly.”

They stood and looked around. There wasn’t even so much as a bush they could hide behind in the flat plain around them.

“Wally.”

“‘Old on Tim, I’m finkin’.”

“But Wally.”

“One second.”

“Wally!”

“Wot!”

“Window.” Timmy was pointing upwards.

Right above their heads was a rotting hole with a window flapping listlessly.

“Perfect, well done Tim!”

“Oh good,” Timmy muttered to himself. “It is real.”

“Come on, gimme a boost up.”

Wally manoeuvred Timmy under the window and then clambered up him. He jammed his foot on Timmy’s meaty thigh and used the top of his head to push himself up.

“Ow!” Timmy whined.

“Shh!” Wally hissed at him.

He had both feet on Timmy’s shoulders, his hand stretching to reach the window ledge.

“Stand up straight!”

“I am!”

“Stand up straighter!”

With a grunt, Timmy pushed upwards and Wally was able to scramble a hold on the rotting window ledge. He dug the slick bottoms of his well worn boots into the soft wood of the warehouse and hauled himself up. His thin arms shook. He felt Timmy’s hand on the bottom of his boots pushing him up. With a final grunt and a few choice curses, Wally hauled himself through the window. It was pitch black on the other side of the window. The throbbing marching drums were a dull pounding in the distance.

“Wally!” Timmy called up. “You alright?”

“Yeah!” Wally said, sticking his head through the window. “Come on!”

Wally dangled his arm down for Timmy to grab hold of. Timmy looked at it forlornly and then jumped. He barely cleared a foot from the ground.

“Come on Tim! Jump!”

“I am!”

Timmy bent his knees and leapt, his fingertips just brushing across Wally’s.

“Maybe get a run up?” Wally said.

Timmy took a few steps back and then lumbered towards Timmy. His equilibrium still hadn’t quite returned after his bender and he tripped over his own feet and went head first into the barn.

“Shit! Tim you alright?”

Timmy sat down in a daze, rubbing his head.

“Oi wots going on round there?” A voice shouted, followed by pounding boots.

“Shit! Shit! Tim jump!”

But Timmy was still on the floor rubbing his head. He saw shadows fast approaching the corner. As the two guards came around the corner, Wally melted back into the shadows above them.

“Wot’re you doin’?” one of the guards snarled at Timmy.

“What? Who? Me? No… n-nothing.”

The guards grabbed Timmy up under his armpits and hauled him to his feet.

“Wot you sneaking around back ‘ere for?”

“No I wasn’t sneaking… I was… I was looking for a fat bird. Have you seen her?” Timmy burped and looked up at them, a giant lump starting to come up on his forehead.

“He’s fucked up,” One of the guards laughed. “Had a bit too much mate?”

“Yeah,” Timmy said with a stupid grin on his face.

“I don’t like it,” the other guard said.

He looked around suspiciously and then up at the window. Wally threw himself back into the shadows.

“Was you tryna get in up there?”

“What? Umm… n-no, corse not,” Timmy stammered.

“Wots yore name?”

“Oh… umm… oh… I can’t remember. Was it umm… Shaun? Or Steve?”

“Funny man ay?” The guard grabbed Timmy up roughly. “You’re comin’ wiv us.”

“No wait! I haven’t done anything!” Timmy tried for a brief moment to fight against their grips and was given a cuff around the back of the head for his troubles. Timmy looked back and his eyes twitched up towards the window before he was dragged around.

“Shit,” Wally breathed as he watched Timmy’s feet disappear.

He sat back in the darkness and held his head in his hands.

What was he going to do now?