'No!' Kelly screamed. But go mango had both her hands held fast in one of his. With the other he tore away her dress, revealing her beauty to none but himself.
'Delicious,' he said. 'I'm all programmed up to enjoy this. I know it won't be real enjoyment. Just a simulation, but it will get the job done. Oh yes indeed.'
go mango forced Kelly to the floor and forced himself upon her. The golden woman struggled and twisted and kicked and screamed and screamed.
'You're mine,' said go mango. 'You are mine.'
'Leave the woman alone, thou foul and filthy fiend.'
go mango turned his head.
Big Bob removed his ski mask. 'Thou lookest like a man I've seen before,' said he. 'But thou art not a man, my eyes behold you in your true form. Thou art the Evil One, himself
'You,' said go mango. 'Player three. I wondered what happened to you.'
'I went off-line,' said Big Bob. 'I have conquered thy demons. My head is my own once more.'
'Yes, well, I'll get back to you later. I'm rather busy here.'
'I am your nemesis,' said Bob the Big, taking a big step forward. 'I have suffered thy torments and now I avenge myself upon you.'
'Oh dear,' said go mango. 'I can see that I'm going to have to deal with you rather roughly. Stay here my dear,' he said to Kelly. 'My little dear. Stay right where you are and I will be back in but a moment.'
'I thinkest not,' said Big Bob, squaring up and making fists. 'Here it endeth for thee. Kelly, mnl Flee the building, they're going to blow it up.'
Kelly leapt to her feet.
'Blow it up?' said go mango. 'Blow me up? Blow us up?'
'Bang!' said Big Bob. 'So shall it come to pass.'
'No,' said go mango. 'no. get out of my way.' And he lunged at Big Bob, knocking him from his big feet.
'Run Kelly, run,' shouted Bob the Big. 'I canst deal with this.' And he rose once more to his great big feet and set about go mango.
Now there were titanic struggles and there are titanic struggles. And this was a titanic struggle.
Great and violent was this struggle. Mighty fists brought into play and dirty tricks aplenty. Big Bob hammered and beat and bashed, swearing huge and terrible oaths, pulling out tufts of synthetic hair and bruising synthetic skin. go mango fought like a thing possessed. Possessed it seemed by every hero of every platform beat-'em-up. And so the battle raged, pews were torn from the floor and used to belabour opponents. The lectern, the altar, the lot.
Kelly, screaming, clutching her head, fled from the terrible sight.
She ran out of the chapel and into a corridor, from there to another and another and then down stairs and down more stairs and down and down.
'It's all coming down,' said Old Vic, putting a wire into this and a wire into that.
The siren had stopped shrieking now, but the sounds of approaching bells came to Vic's old ears.
'It's the emergency services,' he told Old Pete. 'They're on their way. Come on, let's get this done.'
The two old rogues rolled out the wire. Martial Brentonians were hurrying back to their charabanc.
'We're making a statement here,' said Old Vic. 'We're saying, don't mess with Brentonians. The world will remember us for this. The world will thank us.'
'Undoubtedly,' said Old Pete. Til get the engine running. You set ofFthe charges.'
'Yes, sir, captain.' Old Vic saluted, nearly putting his good eye out with the wire.
In the chapel battle raged. Big Bob was bruised and bloodied, but in no mood to accept anything other than victory. Everything had led him here to this. His entire life. He'd never known that he actually had a purpose. Who among us ever does? But Big Bob knew now. He must destroy the Evil thing. This tormentor of his soul and his flesh. He must grind it into oblivion. Wipe it from the face of the Earth.
'Wipe-out time,' said Old Vic, connecting up his wires and raising up one of those little plunger jobbies on the detonation box.
'Hold hard,' called Old Pete from the driver's window of the charabanc. 'There's a woman coming out of the building. Stone me, she's got hardly any clothes on.'
'Tell me when she's clear,' shouted Old Vic. 'Say when it's OK.'
'Pardon?' said Old Pete. 'I really must get this thing fixed. It's only started playing up today. It's one of the old Mute Corp 3000 series. Stupid thing.' Old Pete gave the earpiece a clout -with his fist. Sounds of ringing bells came ringing to his ear. 'That's better,' he said.
'What's that?' shouted Old Vic.
'I said, it's OK now.'
'Gotcha,' said Old Vic.
And he pressed down the plunger.
The explosion tore through the reception area. It blasted apart all manner of very important building supports. It ripped and it billowed. Glass rained out in crystal showers. The building shuddered and rocked.
'no!' cried go mango as the floor shook beneath him. 'this is blasphemy. i am the god of this world. i am we. we control all.'
'Control this, thou loser,' said Big Bob, smashing-his great fist into go mango's chest, fracturing circuitry boards and mangling microchips.
'no!' cried go mango, falling back and clutching at himself.
'I am not done with thee yet.' Big Bob leapt upon his enemy, ripping and tearing, destroying and destroying.
And fire swam up through corridors and lift shafts and windows fractured and sections of floor fell away.
Big Bob put the boot in. He kicked and he stamped and he ground and he mangled.
'no!' cried go mango. 'no no no n n n n n n…'
Flames licked up through floor tiles, catching here and there amongst the broken pews. A great hole yawned in the centre of the floor. Flames leapt through it. Burning like the fires of Hell.
'From the pit thou comest,' said Big Bob, dragging go mango across the shuddering floor. 'And to the pit thou shalst return.' And he lifted the remains of the simulated Derek. The virus that played man as a game. The rogue program that would be God. He lifted It above his head and cast It down into the flames infernal.
Thunder and lightning. A sudden change in the weather? For a moment it seemed that the sun had gone dark. Derek, sheltering beneath the Cadillac, peeped up at the troubled sky. He couldn't see a lot of it. Not between the feet of the plucky Brentonians, who were now kicking seven bells of oblivion out of Mr Speedy and Mr Shadow and Mr Pokey and any Mute Corp lackeys who hadn't as yet fled the scene. But then there was silence.
Suddenly silence.
And Derek stared up.
Folk had stopped their fighting now. They were gasping and pointing. Derek climbed out from his cover.
Something was happening.
Something somewhat odd.
'It's all going,' someone cried.
'And they're returning,' cried another.
Derek stood and stared along with the rest.
Something was happening.
'The colours,' said someone else. And it was true. The colours were changing. The newly painted colours. They were fading from the roads and the brickwork and the doors and the window frames. Dissolving, vanishing away. Brentford as those who lived there knew it and loved it was returning to itself.
And not just Brentford.
But those who had vanished.
Those who had been taken in The Rapture.
They were reappearing, stumbling and staggering. And loved ones fell into the arms of loved ones and brother met brother again and sister met sister and mother met son.
'Somehow I know that this was all your fault,' said a lady in a straw hat, smiting her son Malkuth on the head.