Tower X Eva Crossover Warning NO lemons in here
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... decided to dust this stroy off. sorry about the grammer in the second half. I finshed outlineing how I want this story to go....and the writers spark made me want to post it before I spell checked the fucker.
CHAPTER 1: The Beginning of the Whole Mess, or To The Dark Tower Did Childe Roland Came
The Man in Black fled across the desert, The Gunslinger followed. It seemed The Man in Black was slowing down; then again it seemed to Roland that time it self was, slowing for him. He was sure there where days, that lasted at least 48 hours, the shortest day he experienced shortest at least 34.
Roland, the Gunslinger ascribed to this to Ka and the world he was living in and nothing more of it. The world had moved on, things have changed. Ka because very thing was driven by it, The Man in Black was no exception, nor was the gunslinger or the world around them. The world had moved on, things have changed, that was Ka.
The desert seemed walked on seemed to stretch to infinity and beyond. As large it was it also just as empty, what little sand there was stuck to the ground, only occasionally did bits of it seem to stretch up and hit him hard on the face. The real kicker of the place wasn’t the vast spread of the area, or the lack of sand. Even though the world was already moving on when he was a child, the thought of a cold desert during high noon would have made anyone laugh, including him. Even now it brought a large grim smile onto Roland face. This desert seemed to be an apotheosis to what was happening to the world. None of this even mattered to Roland though. All that mattered was the Man in Black.
All that mattered was it in the far distance in front of him, their was a large unmoving object and that forty minutes ago he saw the remains of a camp site, though he couldn’t say how he knew, he was sure it belonged to The Man in Black. All that mattered was that he was getting closer, that and no matter how cold the desert was, it was still dry as hell, and he needed a drink.
The gunslinger reached down and grabbed his canteen, witch hung loose from his belt and above his two heavy revolvers. His hands briefly touched them, and a smile appeared on his face, even now they reminded him of his father. They where originally his father’s, but they changed so much since then, for one they where weighted down more with plates since he took them at his side, because unlike his father he was a tall man. The more Roland thought about it, the more he realized how different he was now. Though both stood strong and tan, Roland’s father, Stephen, had eyes where much kinder and softer, as well as brown as the desert once was, his hair was a light blonde…almost white, it was straight and long, covering as much of the face as the back. Almost seemingly trying to cover up that kindness, a thing witch no longer had a place in the world. Roland eyes where a cold blue, that seemed to scream indifference to the world. His hair was a curly black trying that came down to his forehead and seemed naturally to part to two sides. Yet there was no doubt in either Stephen or Roland’s mind that they where father and son, its was just that Roland looked like their forefather of their family Arthur Eld.
While the gunslinger was lost in his vivid, he memory almost spilled his water over his poncho, witch had only the color of dirt of the desert had, like his shirt. He cursed silently, took a quick drink, and quickly placed back in his belt. Roland looked up at the object that lingered in front of him. It was much clearer now and much easier to see it.
It was a large grey building…that seemed to be made of very well plastered bricks; he definitely couldn’t make out any single bricks in it in any case. Its roof was flat as a pancake except for its edges witch pointed both up and down, both far and long. It had long windows that seemed to stretch across along middle of the building. As the gunslinger got closer…he could have sworn he saw someone inside.
In fact he knew he did.
The gunslinger crept across the long side of the building edging his way to the front, trying to avoid making any noise to alert anyone in side. Though he doubted it, The Man In Black might be in there….and if he was Roland would have him right where he wanted him. Roland kicked opened the door, drawing his gun in the same instant, preparing for the worst. All he found was a boy, laying on the floor apparently asleep. The gunslinger paused a moment in surprise. “Did The Man In Black leave him for me too find? No, maybe he lives here…wait if he does how the hell did he get here?” The gunslinger thought quickly and nervously. Not knowing what do next he moved forward, and in retrospect did the stupidest thing he could have done, and then kicked him. The boy eyes opened quick as lighting. His mouth opened almost as quickly in shock, upon seeing the gunslinger’s revolver.
“Unless you want to lose the top half of your head, you’ll give me you name and tell me how the hell you got here.” The gunslinger said sharply and coldly. The boy muttered incoherently at first then finally said his name. The gunslinger him self was in surprise…the boy had just spoke in a form of High Speak he thought died out long ago.
“My name is Shinji…Shi-…Shinji Ikari…"
“Shinji...? There’s a handle I haven’t heard in a while, a long while.” Roland began…although he began to soften as he looked at the confusion and terror in the boys face. He put his gun back in its holster.
“How did you get here…do you have a family or something around here…?” Roland asked once again.
“I don’t know….I think I was hurt or something…then I saw a man in black…he might have been a Christian priest or something…I don’t know. When I woke up I was here.” Shinji began.
The gunslinger looked down at Shinji. He was pallid sullen and short, though still an ordinary looking teenager (perhaps one the ladies would prefer to look at but still ordinary) though he doubted there where any form the Eastern lands still here, all the traders and travelers began leaving after the fall of Gilead. He hadn’t seen anyone other than white, black, or those sometimes who call themselves Native Manni (Though most preferred just being called Manni after a religion that they followed and rather than land that they all lived, depending on whether or not they followed it) for a long time now… he where sure there will still here in Manni, this part of Mid-World. But, the world had moved on after all.
In any case Shinji was definitely not some beast the Man in Black would have left here to kill him. He was just some ordinary teen. Maybe the Man in Black to slow him down… he could have brought him here that meant the Man in Black could leave at anytime. Roland scowled at the thought, preceded to make a motion with his hand asking Shinji to go on.
Shinji shook his head. “Sorry, that’s all I remember really.” The gunslinger could tell the boy wasn’t lying.
“Well, how about where you where before you got here?” the gunslinger asked
Shinji thought for moment and then looked down at Roland’s guns for a quick second. Roland caught this and realized the boy was still scared as hell, and quickly removed his holster and guns at set them on a counter. The boy needed to calm down; the truth and stories came out better that way. Roland looked around in the interior of the gray way stations interior. All though it was cluttered through out the entire place, filled with dirt and dust, as well just the general disarray of the whole place, Roland thought there still might be salvageable food around here.
Much of the waystation was divided into columns and columns. Much of it the gunslinger thought was garbage, packages of not food but good knew. Much was materials that Roland knew, that any harrier or treasure hunter would cum at sight, and scream that he was in heaven, there where whole columns of not just picture books and books in general, but tons and tons of blank paper and pens. Even when he was a boy it was hard to find paper, and they where still making it back then. Even then he supposed, the world had moved on. There was enough of it to a thousand men a large fortune now, and make a half a dozen very wealthy back when he was a child. As the gunslinger moved further down he saw what he looked like bagged and canned food. He looked and Shinji.
Shinji almost reading his mind quickly said “Yes, you can eat them. I’ve been eating for them past two days. Its nothing but junk food, but it’s still better than nothing. Oh theirs water in the fridges in back I thought about taking the soda…but I living on beef jerky as it is.”
The Gunslinger smiled at Shinji “So Palvaer, is to be had.”
Roland was unfamiliar with the term junk food., but got the rest and grabbed himself a bottle of water, something called a Milky Way, Something called a Butterfinger, two big red puffy bags (that looked like to Roland that they where going to explode. He wouldn’t even touch them until Shinji told in that it just air trapped in the bag) of something called Nacho Cheese Doritos, and a two bottles of beer. Roland offered one of the bags of Doritos to Shinji, as well as the Milky way and the bottle of beer, and pulled out a loaf of stale old bread, breaking it in half, giving Shinji the other half.
“This a beer right, I’m sorry I can’t have it…I’m not old enough….” Shinji began
The Gunslinger just looked at Shinji. “Your on your way to becoming a man…and you can’t drink? Are you a follower of the Man Jesus”
Shinji shook his head “I’m just not allowed to back where I’m from….well I’m to young there it’s a law”
“Your hold enough to hold Palvaer, a meeting or equals or near equals, is custom to break bread and share drink.” He paused “ Not to get drunk….your only to take a swing of drink when I o, I to drink only when you do.” The gunslinger almost recanted jollily, tough with a serious tone as well.
Shinji smiled “ All right…eeer what is palaver...isn’t it a type of sauce….”
Roland scowled “No, I already told you what it is. It’s something two or more people who are just met, or being requited, or just do to tell each other about themselves…when they consider themselves equals and when they mean no harm.”
“Oh…”Shinji said while almost blushing in an embarrassment.
“Don’t worry it appears that your not from here apparently,” the gunslinger raised his glass indicting that they should both take a drink. Shinji paused…then quickly raised his and drank a sip as the gunslinger did “And, I think we are well met.”
“And so it was Roland, son of Stephen, and Shinji, son of…” Roland began
“…Gendou” Shinji almost muttered
“…and so it was Roland, son of Stephen and Shinji, son of Gendou began Palvear, broke bread, and shared drink.” The gunslinger said… knocking his bottle against Shinji’s.
“Also Shinji since I gave the opening toast you are to give me the closing one, don’t worry all you have to say the same thing expect we ended Palvear.” The gunslinger continued.
They began to eat and drink, in silence each waiting for the other to speak. At first, Roland thought that it was his own fault. He didn’t like the Doritos very much. But the Butterfinger bar reminded of deserts he hadn’t eaten since he was a child. He also thought it was at the boy’s shyness and timidness. “No, that can’t be it. If anything he would have tried to start up a conversation now because of it. Silence is more intimating then words of the tongue many of times. This is one of them. It’s probably because he still doesn’t trust me. I did wave a gun in his face after all” Roland thought The gunslinger reached underneath his poncho (for one horrible moment Shinji had though he had hid another gun under there) and pulled out tobacco and rolled a cigarette. He lit it , and with that the silence broke.
“I understand why you’re upset and don’t trust me, Shinji. So I’ll start us off.” The Gunslinger paused, taking a puff of his cigarette then went on in an almost toneless voice. “I think that man in black you saw, is the one I’m looking for. Its important to me that I find him. No matter how long and no matter what it takes.”
Shinji interpreted his voice a tad bit unsteady but with some strength. “Why are you looking for him?” Shinji’s eyes turned to Roland’s guns on the table. “Are you looking for him, to kill him?”
Roland paused at this. “Yes, and no. But more of the no then the yes, if I find him I’ll talk to him, and if I get to him and learn what I want to, I’ll kill him if I get the chance. If I don’t get the chance…oh well, I’ll still get what I want out of him.
“ So why are you want…” Shinji began to ask.
“I want to kill him because he seduced my mother and killed my father. But that’s not why I after him, Shinji.” The gunslinger paused, and took another puff of his cigarette. “But it is related to the reason why I want to talk to him. The Man in Black only used my mother and killed my father to get to the Tower. And it’s the Tower I’m after.”
“What’s so important about it, that someone would do that? Is it worth killing over…worth using people over?” Shinji asked in sympathetic tone.
“Yes, I hate him for it. But I can’t say I wouldn’t something like that to find the Dark Tower. I’ve done worse, much worse. So has he. I can’t say either one of us regrets it yet, there are very few things in the world selling you soul for Shinji. The Tower’s one of them. Because without the Tower nothing would exist, nothing at all, even Ka…or fate, or purpose serves it. If there is a God, I wouldn’t doubt that he would live there. Whether he’d control it, however, I don’t know.” The gunslinger wearily, much like old man who has spent his entire life working in a factory, and is finally nearing the end of his stay there.
“…But why did the Man in Black kill your father to get to it Roland, And why get to it in the first place?” Shinji asked.
At this Roland looked deep into Shinji’s eyes, the star was like that of a viper would make. And Shinji was sure at that moment that that gaze could have torn through steel. The ocean blue eyes Roland bore…almost looked empty of kindness and threatening as the ocean itself. Shinji almost wanted to avoid that gaze, but something drew it to. Maybe because there was a sadness behind those eyes Shinji could more than indentify with .
“I don’t know why he wants to get to the Tower but I can tell you why I do. I want to see if there’s anyone on the top. I want to see if there is if its he who controls the tower. Or the Tower that controls him. And I want to ask him…why the world has moved on. Why almost all the cities have fallen. Why most towns are ghost towns. Why days are getting longer, and why they at the same time are getting shorter are getting. I want to ask why most cows are born with 5 legs. And, why my father and my friends, had to die protecting. Why he let the one thing that could protect it die. Gunslingers.
Cort stood, towering over the three of them, looking down at them with great disgust. Even though Roland and his friends where still in their early teens age had played no big role in why Cort stood over them like a giant. Cort was a mountain of a man, at least 7’3 feet tall and weighing at least 360 pounds (mostly Muscle but plenty of fat to go with it). Roland and Alan both thought Cort must have been even taller when he was younger (as impossibly tall Cort was, he looked just as impossibly old…though he was †˜only’ 58 years old) but visualizing such things was way beyond Roland’s limited imagination, its extent of witch was what an opponent might bring to a fight. Cort’s face looked like the bark of an old hard tree bark carved by rocks, his wrinkled face looked like a tan blanket wrapped in Sandra Wrap. His eyes where as blue as the sky was on a clear day…but they always looked like they contained some horrible storm that looked like it could sweep everyone away at any moment, and his wild white hair stood on top his like a snow white cloud. Needless to say it wasn’t a pleasant feeling to have Cort stand over you, peering down at you like judge, jury and executer all rolled into one.
“Your lucky that you three have a class that you can’t miss, or I’d take the time out of my day, to show there are more consequences to failing to command a hawk in battle, than a few scrapes and bruises. You have forgotten the face of your Father’s you fools.” Spoke Cort flatly, looking at David the hawk in the corner of his eyes as he said so. The so called “scrapes” where large slashes that had they been done to there fingers, rather than then their and bodies, would have ripped them clean off and an a missing earlobe (Cuthbert’s to be specific) . The “bruises” included a sprained wrist, and a few broken fingers
Roland Deschain, Alain Johns, and Cuthbert Allgodd had all failed to call and bait or rather fetch the large brown hawk…let alone sic it on the targets that Cort had set out for them. Though Alain thought Cort wanted them to fail this test, like many before, hence why he made it so fucking hard, something witch Roland and Cuthbert constantly scuffed at (though it was actually dead on, he always that the pains of failure where better teachers than success). At the same time Cort did, Roland’s eyes quickly glanced at David, then he brought their attention back to Cort’s old weathered face. Roland and his friends bowed forgiveness and quickly got the hell out of there.
As they ran to class Cuthbert couldn’t help to sneer “I thought you said that you tamed David. Maybe that’s the name of your left hand.” With that Cuthbert took has left hand, put it on the outside of crotch of his pants and made a gesture as if he where grabbing a small pole and quickly moving back and forth. He also made mocking, exaggerated cries of passion.”
To this both Alain and Roland laughed. Roland was one who knew how to take a joke. But after a short chuckle Roland replied curtly. “Of course some of us would rather do that, then fuck our sister’s cunt like you would.” With that they all bowled over with laughter (after Cuthbert jumped on Roland back and wrestled him to the ground) Roland would later reflect expect for the night he meet Susan, these where the happiest days of his life, A life that would quickly go down the drain. Roland quickly threw Cuthbert of him and accidently into a water bin for horses , witch brought on a whole fit of laughter
Alain was the first to break from his laughter looking around the nearly deserted city, one that on weekends and weeknights bustled with activity, and remembered about class. “Come on you guys we have class remember. Its riddle day too, if we’re late, even if we win the fucking thing, we won’t be able to come home early.” Every two weeks between History and Physics, or Terrain Biology and Tactics of Gilead Gunslingers a riddle contest. If a student was able to win the contest they got to have a half day for the rest of the week. Teachers and gunslinger’s alike thought that riddling was a good indictor of “being able to see behind the corner” a trait that should be encouraged among Gunslingers. Alain was of course concerned because he was very good at Riddling, and won about half the contests, while Roland had only gotten to the final round only once. His teacher said it was because Roland lacked imagination, while his father said it was because he was hard headed. Roland thought they where both right. Roland quickly stopped and headed back towards class with his friends
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Roland could barely believe it, neither could Alain or Cuthbert, or James the teacher for that matter, Roland had one the riddling contest. Roland schedule hardly offered much time to goof off or play as other children had. Though from a noble family, one descended from Eld himself, his father rarely gave him any spending money, so that shot out having a early lunch or going to see a play, musicians, or performers. So Roland decided to head home, to take a bath and take a nap before beginning his school work.
When Roland finally reached his house, (it was more like an over blown palace then say a house. It even to Roland seem to stretch out to infinity. It was glowing golden brown color. It shone so brightly sometimes it looked like it was the sun. It had a dozens of pillars holding up the over extending roof witch held gargoyles that looked like demons might find in the mind of madmen and angles that must appear to saints. The stairs leading up to there seemed to go on for infinity as well rather to there grand nature more like a staircase to heaven itself Outside of it there was an acre of Apple trees and Orange trees along witch large bushes trimmed (sometimes with aid by Marten’s magic) to look like dragons, tigers, lions, hawks, gates, horses, and even men with thousands of flowers of every variety spread every way . In the Middle of it stood a tall 250 ft Marble statute of Arthur Eld and his mighty steed he was holding Excalibur, and pointing towards the heavens, as if he where challenging the gods them selves to a duel.
Roland ran through it all just wanting to clean his wounds and take a nap. When he finally got in he ran to the top of the staircase and to the Bathing room. The halls of course deserted as they always this time of year. Nearly all the servants had left with his father, when he left for the Quarterly Afflation meeting. All the while he thought he heard soft cries and a creaking sound, but simply dismissed it and put it at the back of his mind.
The Bathing Room was more of a hot spring then a conventional bath. It too had a statue of Eld and his men around it, but also a bronze and sliver human sized one of his second favorite Giggy, Emily in the middle, as this room was created in her honor. Even as he bathed from here Roland heard the soft cries. And began to wonder where they came from, and quickly got out and dressed. The cries seemed to have stopped but he knew where they where coming from the second floor near the living quarters.
Roland normally wouldn’t have cared to go and look, but curiosity seemed to have gotten the better of him today. Roland descended the staircase hoping down to the second floor, and as he did he saw a tall familiar figure ascending them. It was wearing an open shirt, sloppy put on, and wore denim jeans. His shoulders where broad and his skin was impossibly bronze. His dusty blond hair hung loose and long, almost reaching his chest. Although he was tall, Roland thought he was only tall as Roland (who despite only being 14 stood an impressive 6 feet) It was the shirt that that him off (it had an emblem of the hawk like his fathers.) and the casual wear in general that threw Roland off.. He offered a cold smile to Roland. It was Marten Broadcloack the court magician, or as most referred to him around the court, The Man In Black
“Hile Gunslinger, excuse me your Mother Karen, was kind enough to give me permission to use your Bathing Room” the Man In Black said as if it took all his might not to breaking into laughter. With that he gave a sarcastic bow, placing one hand on his chest and one above him towards Roland as if he where offering his hand. Roland who was calm at this point shoved passed The Man in Black and ran toward his parent’s bedroom. His train of thought lead to dangerous freighting territories that up until a moment ago would have never thought of in his life. But the sick feeling in his stomach told him that those thought s where true, that they where dead on. He ran, he ran harder than he had than in his entire life, and knew his suspicions where right.
His parents smelled of sweat and another stink Roland couldn’t place his nose on. His mother was trying to put on her night gown but seemed in a daze. She turned to Roland, as if she had just heard him bolting down the stairs. There where tears in her eyes. “Roland….Rol…Roland can you hold on a minute I’m getting dressed. It was then he saw the mark on her neck. His eyes turned back to the staircase and sure enough Marten was looking back, beaming at Roland as if he had told Roland the world funniest joke. Roland’s eyes turned into slights like that of a snake’,s than as big as saucers.
“You bastard” he bellowed as he charged toward Marten like a bull, arms spread out like fan. Marten just stepped to the side as Roland charged at him, and threw an hand at the back of his head. Roland to the other side of second floor went flying, he bite his tongue and could taste the blood coming out his mouth.
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Roland left the palace shortly after that, very shortly after that. Roland knew what he was going to do next was as good as suicide. But his father was many things, one of witch WASN’T a fool. If his father wasn’t man enough to kill that bastard Roland would do it. And do it happily. A Grim smile formed around Roland’s face. One fit for Old Man Spilt Foot him self. One fit for Death himself.
He had to get guns though first. He had to become a gunslinger first. He knew what the Man in Black really wanted even at that age. Something only he and his father had a right to. He would destroy them through her he supposed. It didn’t matter that Bastard had to die.
Roland wandered down the so called the dirty side of Furioso, the Whore’s side of. The buildings on the far east there where a mixture new and old. Some where well kept and like elegant places of business, some weren’t. Some of them had paint (usually white, red, brown) chipping off the sides. Making them look like corpses whose flesh was rotting and peeling off. Other had so much dirt knocked on them they looked like they had been hit by a blizzard followed by a sandstorm. He didn’t care about that as much as the smell, a mixture of sweat, beer, the stink that follows that follows sex, bad meat, and even blood. Even those thoughts he removed from his head. He couldn’t care….if he did it would get him killed. He and his friends had snuck into this part of town plenty of times. They had even followed, though there really was no need. Everyone knew where he went once his day was done. Before he went to the Whore’s, he went to the same bar. Bar K, the †˜tamest’ part of the Whore district.
Roland entered quietley as one would expect a ghost. He saw
Cort drinking at the bar, appearing not to notice Rolnad, but Roland knew better.
"Cort, I call you bondsman" Roland yelled, and even before he finshed Cort towered in front of him.
"Aye, what do you want?"
"Today You teach me no more bondsman, today I teach you. Today, I step up to equal footing to my father and stand a top of you. Today I come to earn my guns"
CHAPTER 1: The Beginning of the Whole Mess, or To The Dark Tower Did Childe Roland Came
The Man in Black fled across the desert, The Gunslinger followed. It seemed The Man in Black was slowing down; then again it seemed to Roland that time it self was, slowing for him. He was sure there where days, that lasted at least 48 hours, the shortest day he experienced shortest at least 34.
Roland, the Gunslinger ascribed to this to Ka and the world he was living in and nothing more of it. The world had moved on, things have changed. Ka because very thing was driven by it, The Man in Black was no exception, nor was the gunslinger or the world around them. The world had moved on, things have changed, that was Ka.
The desert seemed walked on seemed to stretch to infinity and beyond. As large it was it also just as empty, what little sand there was stuck to the ground, only occasionally did bits of it seem to stretch up and hit him hard on the face. The real kicker of the place wasn’t the vast spread of the area, or the lack of sand. Even though the world was already moving on when he was a child, the thought of a cold desert during high noon would have made anyone laugh, including him. Even now it brought a large grim smile onto Roland face. This desert seemed to be an apotheosis to what was happening to the world. None of this even mattered to Roland though. All that mattered was the Man in Black.
All that mattered was it in the far distance in front of him, their was a large unmoving object and that forty minutes ago he saw the remains of a camp site, though he couldn’t say how he knew, he was sure it belonged to The Man in Black. All that mattered was that he was getting closer, that and no matter how cold the desert was, it was still dry as hell, and he needed a drink.
The gunslinger reached down and grabbed his canteen, witch hung loose from his belt and above his two heavy revolvers. His hands briefly touched them, and a smile appeared on his face, even now they reminded him of his father. They where originally his father’s, but they changed so much since then, for one they where weighted down more with plates since he took them at his side, because unlike his father he was a tall man. The more Roland thought about it, the more he realized how different he was now. Though both stood strong and tan, Roland’s father, Stephen, had eyes where much kinder and softer, as well as brown as the desert once was, his hair was a light blonde…almost white, it was straight and long, covering as much of the face as the back. Almost seemingly trying to cover up that kindness, a thing witch no longer had a place in the world. Roland eyes where a cold blue, that seemed to scream indifference to the world. His hair was a curly black trying that came down to his forehead and seemed naturally to part to two sides. Yet there was no doubt in either Stephen or Roland’s mind that they where father and son, its was just that Roland looked like their forefather of their family Arthur Eld.
While the gunslinger was lost in his vivid, he memory almost spilled his water over his poncho, witch had only the color of dirt of the desert had, like his shirt. He cursed silently, took a quick drink, and quickly placed back in his belt. Roland looked up at the object that lingered in front of him. It was much clearer now and much easier to see it.
It was a large grey building…that seemed to be made of very well plastered bricks; he definitely couldn’t make out any single bricks in it in any case. Its roof was flat as a pancake except for its edges witch pointed both up and down, both far and long. It had long windows that seemed to stretch across along middle of the building. As the gunslinger got closer…he could have sworn he saw someone inside.
In fact he knew he did.
The gunslinger crept across the long side of the building edging his way to the front, trying to avoid making any noise to alert anyone in side. Though he doubted it, The Man In Black might be in there….and if he was Roland would have him right where he wanted him. Roland kicked opened the door, drawing his gun in the same instant, preparing for the worst. All he found was a boy, laying on the floor apparently asleep. The gunslinger paused a moment in surprise. “Did The Man In Black leave him for me too find? No, maybe he lives here…wait if he does how the hell did he get here?” The gunslinger thought quickly and nervously. Not knowing what do next he moved forward, and in retrospect did the stupidest thing he could have done, and then kicked him. The boy eyes opened quick as lighting. His mouth opened almost as quickly in shock, upon seeing the gunslinger’s revolver.
“Unless you want to lose the top half of your head, you’ll give me you name and tell me how the hell you got here.” The gunslinger said sharply and coldly. The boy muttered incoherently at first then finally said his name. The gunslinger him self was in surprise…the boy had just spoke in a form of High Speak he thought died out long ago.
“My name is Shinji…Shi-…Shinji Ikari…"
“Shinji...? There’s a handle I haven’t heard in a while, a long while.” Roland began…although he began to soften as he looked at the confusion and terror in the boys face. He put his gun back in its holster.
“How did you get here…do you have a family or something around here…?” Roland asked once again.
“I don’t know….I think I was hurt or something…then I saw a man in black…he might have been a Christian priest or something…I don’t know. When I woke up I was here.” Shinji began.
The gunslinger looked down at Shinji. He was pallid sullen and short, though still an ordinary looking teenager (perhaps one the ladies would prefer to look at but still ordinary) though he doubted there where any form the Eastern lands still here, all the traders and travelers began leaving after the fall of Gilead. He hadn’t seen anyone other than white, black, or those sometimes who call themselves Native Manni (Though most preferred just being called Manni after a religion that they followed and rather than land that they all lived, depending on whether or not they followed it) for a long time now… he where sure there will still here in Manni, this part of Mid-World. But, the world had moved on after all.
In any case Shinji was definitely not some beast the Man in Black would have left here to kill him. He was just some ordinary teen. Maybe the Man in Black to slow him down… he could have brought him here that meant the Man in Black could leave at anytime. Roland scowled at the thought, preceded to make a motion with his hand asking Shinji to go on.
Shinji shook his head. “Sorry, that’s all I remember really.” The gunslinger could tell the boy wasn’t lying.
“Well, how about where you where before you got here?” the gunslinger asked
Shinji thought for moment and then looked down at Roland’s guns for a quick second. Roland caught this and realized the boy was still scared as hell, and quickly removed his holster and guns at set them on a counter. The boy needed to calm down; the truth and stories came out better that way. Roland looked around in the interior of the gray way stations interior. All though it was cluttered through out the entire place, filled with dirt and dust, as well just the general disarray of the whole place, Roland thought there still might be salvageable food around here.
Much of the waystation was divided into columns and columns. Much of it the gunslinger thought was garbage, packages of not food but good knew. Much was materials that Roland knew, that any harrier or treasure hunter would cum at sight, and scream that he was in heaven, there where whole columns of not just picture books and books in general, but tons and tons of blank paper and pens. Even when he was a boy it was hard to find paper, and they where still making it back then. Even then he supposed, the world had moved on. There was enough of it to a thousand men a large fortune now, and make a half a dozen very wealthy back when he was a child. As the gunslinger moved further down he saw what he looked like bagged and canned food. He looked and Shinji.
Shinji almost reading his mind quickly said “Yes, you can eat them. I’ve been eating for them past two days. Its nothing but junk food, but it’s still better than nothing. Oh theirs water in the fridges in back I thought about taking the soda…but I living on beef jerky as it is.”
The Gunslinger smiled at Shinji “So Palvaer, is to be had.”
Roland was unfamiliar with the term junk food., but got the rest and grabbed himself a bottle of water, something called a Milky Way, Something called a Butterfinger, two big red puffy bags (that looked like to Roland that they where going to explode. He wouldn’t even touch them until Shinji told in that it just air trapped in the bag) of something called Nacho Cheese Doritos, and a two bottles of beer. Roland offered one of the bags of Doritos to Shinji, as well as the Milky way and the bottle of beer, and pulled out a loaf of stale old bread, breaking it in half, giving Shinji the other half.
“This a beer right, I’m sorry I can’t have it…I’m not old enough….” Shinji began
The Gunslinger just looked at Shinji. “Your on your way to becoming a man…and you can’t drink? Are you a follower of the Man Jesus”
Shinji shook his head “I’m just not allowed to back where I’m from….well I’m to young there it’s a law”
“Your hold enough to hold Palvaer, a meeting or equals or near equals, is custom to break bread and share drink.” He paused “ Not to get drunk….your only to take a swing of drink when I o, I to drink only when you do.” The gunslinger almost recanted jollily, tough with a serious tone as well.
Shinji smiled “ All right…eeer what is palaver...isn’t it a type of sauce….”
Roland scowled “No, I already told you what it is. It’s something two or more people who are just met, or being requited, or just do to tell each other about themselves…when they consider themselves equals and when they mean no harm.”
“Oh…”Shinji said while almost blushing in an embarrassment.
“Don’t worry it appears that your not from here apparently,” the gunslinger raised his glass indicting that they should both take a drink. Shinji paused…then quickly raised his and drank a sip as the gunslinger did “And, I think we are well met.”
“And so it was Roland, son of Stephen, and Shinji, son of…” Roland began
“…Gendou” Shinji almost muttered
“…and so it was Roland, son of Stephen and Shinji, son of Gendou began Palvear, broke bread, and shared drink.” The gunslinger said… knocking his bottle against Shinji’s.
“Also Shinji since I gave the opening toast you are to give me the closing one, don’t worry all you have to say the same thing expect we ended Palvear.” The gunslinger continued.
They began to eat and drink, in silence each waiting for the other to speak. At first, Roland thought that it was his own fault. He didn’t like the Doritos very much. But the Butterfinger bar reminded of deserts he hadn’t eaten since he was a child. He also thought it was at the boy’s shyness and timidness. “No, that can’t be it. If anything he would have tried to start up a conversation now because of it. Silence is more intimating then words of the tongue many of times. This is one of them. It’s probably because he still doesn’t trust me. I did wave a gun in his face after all” Roland thought The gunslinger reached underneath his poncho (for one horrible moment Shinji had though he had hid another gun under there) and pulled out tobacco and rolled a cigarette. He lit it , and with that the silence broke.
“I understand why you’re upset and don’t trust me, Shinji. So I’ll start us off.” The Gunslinger paused, taking a puff of his cigarette then went on in an almost toneless voice. “I think that man in black you saw, is the one I’m looking for. Its important to me that I find him. No matter how long and no matter what it takes.”
Shinji interpreted his voice a tad bit unsteady but with some strength. “Why are you looking for him?” Shinji’s eyes turned to Roland’s guns on the table. “Are you looking for him, to kill him?”
Roland paused at this. “Yes, and no. But more of the no then the yes, if I find him I’ll talk to him, and if I get to him and learn what I want to, I’ll kill him if I get the chance. If I don’t get the chance…oh well, I’ll still get what I want out of him.
“ So why are you want…” Shinji began to ask.
“I want to kill him because he seduced my mother and killed my father. But that’s not why I after him, Shinji.” The gunslinger paused, and took another puff of his cigarette. “But it is related to the reason why I want to talk to him. The Man in Black only used my mother and killed my father to get to the Tower. And it’s the Tower I’m after.”
“What’s so important about it, that someone would do that? Is it worth killing over…worth using people over?” Shinji asked in sympathetic tone.
“Yes, I hate him for it. But I can’t say I wouldn’t something like that to find the Dark Tower. I’ve done worse, much worse. So has he. I can’t say either one of us regrets it yet, there are very few things in the world selling you soul for Shinji. The Tower’s one of them. Because without the Tower nothing would exist, nothing at all, even Ka…or fate, or purpose serves it. If there is a God, I wouldn’t doubt that he would live there. Whether he’d control it, however, I don’t know.” The gunslinger wearily, much like old man who has spent his entire life working in a factory, and is finally nearing the end of his stay there.
“…But why did the Man in Black kill your father to get to it Roland, And why get to it in the first place?” Shinji asked.
At this Roland looked deep into Shinji’s eyes, the star was like that of a viper would make. And Shinji was sure at that moment that that gaze could have torn through steel. The ocean blue eyes Roland bore…almost looked empty of kindness and threatening as the ocean itself. Shinji almost wanted to avoid that gaze, but something drew it to. Maybe because there was a sadness behind those eyes Shinji could more than indentify with .
“I don’t know why he wants to get to the Tower but I can tell you why I do. I want to see if there’s anyone on the top. I want to see if there is if its he who controls the tower. Or the Tower that controls him. And I want to ask him…why the world has moved on. Why almost all the cities have fallen. Why most towns are ghost towns. Why days are getting longer, and why they at the same time are getting shorter are getting. I want to ask why most cows are born with 5 legs. And, why my father and my friends, had to die protecting. Why he let the one thing that could protect it die. Gunslingers.
Cort stood, towering over the three of them, looking down at them with great disgust. Even though Roland and his friends where still in their early teens age had played no big role in why Cort stood over them like a giant. Cort was a mountain of a man, at least 7’3 feet tall and weighing at least 360 pounds (mostly Muscle but plenty of fat to go with it). Roland and Alan both thought Cort must have been even taller when he was younger (as impossibly tall Cort was, he looked just as impossibly old…though he was †˜only’ 58 years old) but visualizing such things was way beyond Roland’s limited imagination, its extent of witch was what an opponent might bring to a fight. Cort’s face looked like the bark of an old hard tree bark carved by rocks, his wrinkled face looked like a tan blanket wrapped in Sandra Wrap. His eyes where as blue as the sky was on a clear day…but they always looked like they contained some horrible storm that looked like it could sweep everyone away at any moment, and his wild white hair stood on top his like a snow white cloud. Needless to say it wasn’t a pleasant feeling to have Cort stand over you, peering down at you like judge, jury and executer all rolled into one.
“Your lucky that you three have a class that you can’t miss, or I’d take the time out of my day, to show there are more consequences to failing to command a hawk in battle, than a few scrapes and bruises. You have forgotten the face of your Father’s you fools.” Spoke Cort flatly, looking at David the hawk in the corner of his eyes as he said so. The so called “scrapes” where large slashes that had they been done to there fingers, rather than then their and bodies, would have ripped them clean off and an a missing earlobe (Cuthbert’s to be specific) . The “bruises” included a sprained wrist, and a few broken fingers
Roland Deschain, Alain Johns, and Cuthbert Allgodd had all failed to call and bait or rather fetch the large brown hawk…let alone sic it on the targets that Cort had set out for them. Though Alain thought Cort wanted them to fail this test, like many before, hence why he made it so fucking hard, something witch Roland and Cuthbert constantly scuffed at (though it was actually dead on, he always that the pains of failure where better teachers than success). At the same time Cort did, Roland’s eyes quickly glanced at David, then he brought their attention back to Cort’s old weathered face. Roland and his friends bowed forgiveness and quickly got the hell out of there.
As they ran to class Cuthbert couldn’t help to sneer “I thought you said that you tamed David. Maybe that’s the name of your left hand.” With that Cuthbert took has left hand, put it on the outside of crotch of his pants and made a gesture as if he where grabbing a small pole and quickly moving back and forth. He also made mocking, exaggerated cries of passion.”
To this both Alain and Roland laughed. Roland was one who knew how to take a joke. But after a short chuckle Roland replied curtly. “Of course some of us would rather do that, then fuck our sister’s cunt like you would.” With that they all bowled over with laughter (after Cuthbert jumped on Roland back and wrestled him to the ground) Roland would later reflect expect for the night he meet Susan, these where the happiest days of his life, A life that would quickly go down the drain. Roland quickly threw Cuthbert of him and accidently into a water bin for horses , witch brought on a whole fit of laughter
Alain was the first to break from his laughter looking around the nearly deserted city, one that on weekends and weeknights bustled with activity, and remembered about class. “Come on you guys we have class remember. Its riddle day too, if we’re late, even if we win the fucking thing, we won’t be able to come home early.” Every two weeks between History and Physics, or Terrain Biology and Tactics of Gilead Gunslingers a riddle contest. If a student was able to win the contest they got to have a half day for the rest of the week. Teachers and gunslinger’s alike thought that riddling was a good indictor of “being able to see behind the corner” a trait that should be encouraged among Gunslingers. Alain was of course concerned because he was very good at Riddling, and won about half the contests, while Roland had only gotten to the final round only once. His teacher said it was because Roland lacked imagination, while his father said it was because he was hard headed. Roland thought they where both right. Roland quickly stopped and headed back towards class with his friends
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Roland could barely believe it, neither could Alain or Cuthbert, or James the teacher for that matter, Roland had one the riddling contest. Roland schedule hardly offered much time to goof off or play as other children had. Though from a noble family, one descended from Eld himself, his father rarely gave him any spending money, so that shot out having a early lunch or going to see a play, musicians, or performers. So Roland decided to head home, to take a bath and take a nap before beginning his school work.
When Roland finally reached his house, (it was more like an over blown palace then say a house. It even to Roland seem to stretch out to infinity. It was glowing golden brown color. It shone so brightly sometimes it looked like it was the sun. It had a dozens of pillars holding up the over extending roof witch held gargoyles that looked like demons might find in the mind of madmen and angles that must appear to saints. The stairs leading up to there seemed to go on for infinity as well rather to there grand nature more like a staircase to heaven itself Outside of it there was an acre of Apple trees and Orange trees along witch large bushes trimmed (sometimes with aid by Marten’s magic) to look like dragons, tigers, lions, hawks, gates, horses, and even men with thousands of flowers of every variety spread every way . In the Middle of it stood a tall 250 ft Marble statute of Arthur Eld and his mighty steed he was holding Excalibur, and pointing towards the heavens, as if he where challenging the gods them selves to a duel.
Roland ran through it all just wanting to clean his wounds and take a nap. When he finally got in he ran to the top of the staircase and to the Bathing room. The halls of course deserted as they always this time of year. Nearly all the servants had left with his father, when he left for the Quarterly Afflation meeting. All the while he thought he heard soft cries and a creaking sound, but simply dismissed it and put it at the back of his mind.
The Bathing Room was more of a hot spring then a conventional bath. It too had a statue of Eld and his men around it, but also a bronze and sliver human sized one of his second favorite Giggy, Emily in the middle, as this room was created in her honor. Even as he bathed from here Roland heard the soft cries. And began to wonder where they came from, and quickly got out and dressed. The cries seemed to have stopped but he knew where they where coming from the second floor near the living quarters.
Roland normally wouldn’t have cared to go and look, but curiosity seemed to have gotten the better of him today. Roland descended the staircase hoping down to the second floor, and as he did he saw a tall familiar figure ascending them. It was wearing an open shirt, sloppy put on, and wore denim jeans. His shoulders where broad and his skin was impossibly bronze. His dusty blond hair hung loose and long, almost reaching his chest. Although he was tall, Roland thought he was only tall as Roland (who despite only being 14 stood an impressive 6 feet) It was the shirt that that him off (it had an emblem of the hawk like his fathers.) and the casual wear in general that threw Roland off.. He offered a cold smile to Roland. It was Marten Broadcloack the court magician, or as most referred to him around the court, The Man In Black
“Hile Gunslinger, excuse me your Mother Karen, was kind enough to give me permission to use your Bathing Room” the Man In Black said as if it took all his might not to breaking into laughter. With that he gave a sarcastic bow, placing one hand on his chest and one above him towards Roland as if he where offering his hand. Roland who was calm at this point shoved passed The Man in Black and ran toward his parent’s bedroom. His train of thought lead to dangerous freighting territories that up until a moment ago would have never thought of in his life. But the sick feeling in his stomach told him that those thought s where true, that they where dead on. He ran, he ran harder than he had than in his entire life, and knew his suspicions where right.
His parents smelled of sweat and another stink Roland couldn’t place his nose on. His mother was trying to put on her night gown but seemed in a daze. She turned to Roland, as if she had just heard him bolting down the stairs. There where tears in her eyes. “Roland….Rol…Roland can you hold on a minute I’m getting dressed. It was then he saw the mark on her neck. His eyes turned back to the staircase and sure enough Marten was looking back, beaming at Roland as if he had told Roland the world funniest joke. Roland’s eyes turned into slights like that of a snake’,s than as big as saucers.
“You bastard” he bellowed as he charged toward Marten like a bull, arms spread out like fan. Marten just stepped to the side as Roland charged at him, and threw an hand at the back of his head. Roland to the other side of second floor went flying, he bite his tongue and could taste the blood coming out his mouth.
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Roland left the palace shortly after that, very shortly after that. Roland knew what he was going to do next was as good as suicide. But his father was many things, one of witch WASN’T a fool. If his father wasn’t man enough to kill that bastard Roland would do it. And do it happily. A Grim smile formed around Roland’s face. One fit for Old Man Spilt Foot him self. One fit for Death himself.
He had to get guns though first. He had to become a gunslinger first. He knew what the Man in Black really wanted even at that age. Something only he and his father had a right to. He would destroy them through her he supposed. It didn’t matter that Bastard had to die.
Roland wandered down the so called the dirty side of Furioso, the Whore’s side of. The buildings on the far east there where a mixture new and old. Some where well kept and like elegant places of business, some weren’t. Some of them had paint (usually white, red, brown) chipping off the sides. Making them look like corpses whose flesh was rotting and peeling off. Other had so much dirt knocked on them they looked like they had been hit by a blizzard followed by a sandstorm. He didn’t care about that as much as the smell, a mixture of sweat, beer, the stink that follows that follows sex, bad meat, and even blood. Even those thoughts he removed from his head. He couldn’t care….if he did it would get him killed. He and his friends had snuck into this part of town plenty of times. They had even followed, though there really was no need. Everyone knew where he went once his day was done. Before he went to the Whore’s, he went to the same bar. Bar K, the †˜tamest’ part of the Whore district.
Roland entered quietley as one would expect a ghost. He saw
Cort drinking at the bar, appearing not to notice Rolnad, but Roland knew better.
"Cort, I call you bondsman" Roland yelled, and even before he finshed Cort towered in front of him.
"Aye, what do you want?"
"Today You teach me no more bondsman, today I teach you. Today, I step up to equal footing to my father and stand a top of you. Today I come to earn my guns"