He's a righteous man...
Disclaimer: Still don't own any of it. Funny how all of King's books connect, isn't it?
The right words were spoken, and Nameless felt the way open to her.
Not that it was pleasant. It didn't know if it was different for something with a body, but Nameless didn't enjoy being summoned at all. The best way to describe it was the feeling of being scooped into a jar that was entirely too small. It had to be very careful with this spell. While Ethan Rayne prepared, Nameless worked in a couple of improvements of its own. The resulting chaos had to be allowed, after all. But innocent lives were at stake and Nameless was feeling a bit of guilt about it. Once it played out, once the bust was shattered, any of the changed would return if struck down. Nameless knew it would blow any cover it might have, but would accept it as the price to pay.
It just hoped to have enough control to manage Roland and Susan's memories.
The quest was beginning once again, and the Gunslinger had gone as far as Tull. Nameless wanted to limit Xander's exposure to Roland's history. It knew that even the young Roland, lost in the Wizard's Glass as they fled Hambry and the Barony of Mejis, was going to be traumatic enough. And the Slayer already looked so much like Susan to begin with. Nameless wanted to pay close attention to Buffy. If it didn't keep a tight rein on that one, she might very well experience being burned to death. Reliving such a moment of betrayal might throw her off her game entirely. If Nameless had a body, it would have shook itself.
*Was this no more than a guilty pleasure?*
Maybe it did enjoy it a little, as it spread over the town. Its power being used to change all those who had been marked by the spell. From pixies to platoon members, everyone was suddenly exactly what they intended to be that night. A tiny part of Nameless made a note to wander the Tower and see if there might actually be a Star Wars universe. Another part reached out, plucking a lost gunslinger from a pink fog and guiding him into a young man. Elsewhere a young woman blinked in the back of a cart and heard the sound of chimes for a moment. Nameless bound the threads and stepped back to let it work. That was when it felt the disturbance. A strange cold, somewhere outside town. It followed the sensation, drawing enough of itself in to summon the form it took with Whistler.
A white haired female wreathed in flame stood upon Kingman's Bluff.
But she was not alone. A man stood there in the moonlight with her. He wore dusty cowboy boots with pointed toes and rundown heels. Faded jeans came down over those, held up with a leather belt that had a brass buckle with various runes on it. A plain t-shirt was covered with a jean jacket with a pin on each of the breast pockets; a smiley face on one, a dead pig with the words HOW'S YOUR PORK on the other. He was handsome enough, in a rugged sort of way. A wide smile was on his face that lit his eyes with good natured glee. The flames went out, leaving a stunned Nameless that could only stare. That smile was wrong. It showed too much teeth, like a crocodile.
Or a politician.
"Flagg," she whispered, not liking how the heart beat in her unfamiliar body. There had been a number of worst case scenarios in Nameless's mind, but this beat them all. "Well, darlin', hello to you too," he replied, still smiling. Nameless clenched her fists, wanting to beat the grin off of his face.
"The Powers have no clue what they've done, Flagg."
"And you, sweetheart, had no clue what you were getting into. Seriously? I had way more of a fighting chance than you do with this."
Nameless felt outward, seeing how the distraction had caused things to go further than she intended. She stalked toward Flagg, drawing one of the guns that hung at her sides. "I can shoot you in the head and get away with it."
"Will it make you feel better about bringing me here?"
Nameless held the gun steady, seeing the path the bullet would take as it punched in between his eyes and exploded out the other side.
"I can settle for knowing you'll be gone shortly."
"Gone, but not forgotten. And imagine how some people will be so curious about how the Voice of the Turtle is so terribly interested in this little world. The one I inhabit tonight has some fascinating plans of his own. It'll be fun to see how all this turns out."
"I wish it was my hand that ended you."
The gun roared once. Flagg dropped, the body's brains leaking out onto the grass, still smiling that damnable smile. The night's events were drawing to a close. Nameless had plans to rethink. The woman's body faded, replaced by a whirling mass of white-blue flame. It faded from sight completely as Nameless retreated to bide its time. The Powers had picked the best distraction they could, even if it would end up bringing the Crimson King's attention to this level of the Tower.
But what about the man that dressed as the Walkin' Dude?
Perhaps it was better, O Constant Reader, that Nameless left when it did. That it didn't tarry long enough to see what happened when it, and the spell, faded from reality. Seeing time hit the rewind button and a man's skull being destroyed in reverse. Watching as this man opened his eyes and sat up, looking out over Kingman's Bluff. The smile on his face would have chilled Nameless to the bone, no matter what body it wore.
"Golly," Mayor Wilkins said, full of wholesome cheer, "How'd I get out here?"