In all his time working at the park, Archey has still been unable to discern how many people Mr Legion is. He has one body, at least as far as Archey can tell, but there seems to be several dozen people crammed into it, and none of them care about workplace health and safety violations. Archey greets Mr Legion as another chunk of flesh falls from the giant wound in his neck.

‘Rule number fourteen,’ says Mr. Legion in his layered voice, ‘No summoning unknown entities on park grounds.’

He takes a step forward, his body leaving afterimages as his personalities lag behind.

‘Rule number eighty-three: No dramatic life or death duels on park grounds.’

He grabs Archey by the scruff of his company-provided overalls.

‘Rule number sixteen: no injuries during work hours.’

He opens one of his mouths.

‘Rule number twenty-seven: No operating rides without the permission of a designated ride manager.’

A black tongue rolls out. It snakes towards Archey’s face.

Archey does not want to be licked by Mr. Legion. Not again. The tongue is mere millimeters from Archey's face when Mr. Legion suddenly retracts it and drops Archey on the ground.

'Let this be a warning to you, Billiard,' says Mr. Legion. 'Don't disappoint me again.

Archey is distracted as he winches his winch. A strange man with flies buzzing about his head is riding the roller coaster right now. Ordinarily, such an event as someone actually attending the amusement park would make Archey's week, but he's just not feeling himself today. Why is that? Archey lives to winch. Why is he not enjoying himself right now? Something is wrong. Something is different. Mr. Legion stands at the edge of the winching platform, his many arms folded. This isn't unusual. Sometimes he watches Archey to make sure the job is done right. However, Mr. Legion is facing the opposite direction this time. He isn't watching Archey today, he's guarding Archey. Could it be he's concerned that Abaddon may return? Mr. Legion has never cared for Archey's safety in such a way before. Archey has been attacked by all sorts of nasties in the past, many much more intimidating than Abaddon. It's merely the danger that naturally comes with winching roller coasters. Why, then, is Mr. Legion acting so different now? Archey's grip tightens on the winch. A couple of large splinters impale his hand but he doesn't notice. Against his better judgment, Archey does something he's never done before. He asks Mr. Legion a question.

Mr. Legion turns around, a cold glare in at least half his eyes. 'Why am I guarding you? It's best not to ask such things, Billiard. Just keep winching. It's what you love.'

Archey is stunned. Mr. Legion wasn't angry with him. Mr. Legion has never not been angry with Archey before. What's going on? Against all logic. Archey asks another question.

Mr. Legion is angry now. 'I told you, Billiard. Do. Not. Ask. There is no answer for you yet. Another word and I will not hesitate to use the tongue.'

Archey seals his lips shut and focuses back on winching. What did Mr. Legion mean by no answer for you yet? Does that mean Archey will eventually get an answer? Mr. Legion is being frustratingly cryptic today. After several hours, Mr. Legion seemingly decides the threat has passed and leaves Archey to winch in peace. Fifteen minutes after Mr. Legion's departure, the strange fly-surrounded man from earlier shows up. He's tall and unhealthily skinny. His hair is long, dark and curly. He wears circular, red-tinted spectacles and his upper lip is adorned with a spectacular handlebar mustache. A horsefly squeezes its way out of a pore on the man's pocked cheek as he steps onto the wooden winching platform.

'Heeey, Archey,' the man says, he voice like butter-coated velvet.

Archey nods at the man, hoping that Mr. Legion doesn't notice him interacting with another person.

'Archey, Archey, my man,' says the man, putting a bony, leather-jacketed arm around Archey's shoulders. 'Call me Double B. Right now, you're being touched by the coolest cat in cozy Winchward Beach, besides yourself of course.'

Archey is very uncomfortable.

'Woah, woah,' Double B says, removing his arm. 'Take a bottle of chill pills, man. On the house.' Double B hands Archey an actual plastic bottle labeled Double B's Certified Chill Pills. 'They're placebos, but it's all in your mind anyway, am I right, man?'

Archey agrees with Double B out of fear. A fly buzzes out of Double B's left eyebrow.

'Maybe you should take one right now, man,' Double B suggests.

Archey knows not to take pills from strangers.

Double B chuckles. 'I'm not a stranger, man. I'm your best pal, Double B.'

Archey stares at the pill bottle in his hand. A cartoon picture of Double B giving the thumbs up is printed on it.

'Go on, man,' Double B whispers into Archey's ear. 'Take one.' A burst of flies erupts from Double B's foul-smelling mouth.

In a fit of impulse, Archey tears off the lid off the pill bottle, grabs a pill and swallows it. It is not a placebo.

Archey is suddenly surrounded by thousands of flies on every side. Double B has vanished. In his place is a giant, severed goat's head with human eyes. The head floats at Archey's eye level. Fresh blood drips from its neck wound.

'SEVENTH CHILD,' the head whispers, its deathly voice making Archey's sphincter clench tight enough to create diamonds from coal. 'THE TIME HAS COME. ABADDON AWAITS JUDGEMENT. THE LAKES OF THE SHEOL STAND STILL NO LONGER. YOU MUST LEAVE WINCHWARD BEACH.'

The head vanishes, as do the flies. Before Archey stands his winch, and on his winch leans Double B.

'Sorry about tricking you like that, man,' Double B says. 'But a guy's gotta do what a guy's gotta do.' Out of nowhere, Double B pulls out a bass guitar and strums it once. 'Smell ya later.'

Double B walks away, leaving Archey quite perplexed. After considering whether that goat head meant anything by YOU MUST LEAVE WINCHWARD BEACH, Archey decides that it was probably nothing, and goes back to winching.