Prospit Nights


Chapter 1 - In Which People Die

Chapter 2 - I Am Probably Going To Get Sued For This Chapter Please Keep Me Anonymous

Chapter 3 - An absolutely unexpected turn; also, there is a beautiful pony in this one.

Chapter 4 - Titan Free Love High School AU

Chapter 5 - Opposition

Chapter 5.1 - Heist

Chapter 5.2 - Black

Chapter 5.3 - Serum

Chapter 5.4 - Blastwave

Chapter 6 - another boring chapter of total confusion

Chapter 7 - I LOVE BAKLAVA

Chapter 8 - An Offer in Paris

Chapter 9 - A Steamy Night

Chapter 10 - The Most Amaing Thing To Come From A Terrible Lie

Chapter 11 - The Viritech Gambit

Chapter 12 - Chosen for me

Chapter 13 - General Chocinight Knuxosmo, Where the Hell is My Airstrike, God Damn It.

Chapter 14 - The Return of Captain White

Chapter 15 - “Chapter 42”

Epilogue - Precipice of Eternal Twilight

Anti-Epilogue - “Now, hold on a moment-”;

Chapter 16 - Bucket Mania

Chapter 17 - Daddy Death Rest

Intermission - Revelations

Chapter 18 - “capter 18”: teh epicly awsum battel ub h3lllll

Chapter 19 - Hotel for Monsters (or: Mavis Family Values: Trudy’s Gets the Ultimate Choice)

Chapter 20 - “Chapter 22”

Chapter 21 - The Ham is a Metaphor

Chapter 22 - La beautiful gorgeous mystical chrystalline rainbow lake Francais!!!

Chapter 23 - 100% Indisputable Fact

Chapter 24 - Homoeroticism is a Hell of a Drug


Epilogue 2 - Choose Your Own Epilogue

Chapter 1 - In Which People Die

By Heroguy

Travis, Alex, and Vmsdfx are all together doing things in Detriot and Travis talks to Vmsdfx and aks him "wow that's a really cool gotee!!!!!" But Alex says "I wonder how he has such good face hair when he is going to die does he have nurses help that and do you have cancer or aids? (just like my favorite character lol)."

Vmsdfx was about to reveal the sercet behind his powerful facial hairs when SUDDENLY THE BIG BAD GUY APPEARS.

Alex says "Shit oh no the guy behind everything who ruins the future!!! His name is Seigneur Français and he is a demon!" Travis and Vmsdfx were surprised of course because demon in the room who was the big bad guy! They get all psyched to kill the demon but he WAS WAY TOO STRONG!!! and he killed them all with demon powers. Alex and Travis cry when they die but that's not being a pussy that's being manly because they knew that life was good and they didnt whant to lose it but of course Vmsdfx was too manly too cry.

Meanwhile Trudy (omfg the best character <3) wonders about things by herself nearby. She says "why are my powers so strong? It is such a curse being so much power, becuase it makes my friends jealous!" And it was true. But then Seigneur Français attacked! He came in with his big powers and he said "I'm going to show you about your troll friends!" Then he made a big laugh while Trudy cried about her friends which dOESN'T MAKE HER WEAK IT MEANS SHE'S STRONG AND CAPABLE OF SHOWING FEELINGS YOU GAY FUCKS.

And that's how Trudy was shown how Reno (the guy behind everything) sneak up on Lilith (best character!!1)! And Trudy cries out but only Seigneur Français can hear him because he is using magic to show her the scene. So she has to watch and cry while Reno says "royal flush sneak attack!" and kills Lilith :( I know people will be sad about that but it has to happen for the story!! But of course Axel who is the hero sneaks up behind RENO and KILLS HIM while saying "But I have four of a kind" and also swears a lot because he's a cool hero.  But Lilith (<3) says "but the power of psychic is better then cards!" and kills Reno really dead, because she's a BETTER hero. <3<3<3

Meanwhile Trudy is really really surprised and shocked! And she has a gun so she tries to shoot herself. But Trudy is really powerful and when she is about to do it her powers tell her about Blasto! Blasto's ghost is really heroic and likes Trudy (NOT IN THAT WAY HE'S AN ALIEN) and so he reminds her about the crucial fact of life "Pimps don't commit suicide" and it was true.

Meanwhile Andrew hussey and Troll Bruce Campbell are in a Delorean to travel through time! And they talk while in the TARDIS and stuff. "But Bruce how can you talk about reality when objectivity is subjective?" And Bruce wasn't stumped because he was Troll Bruce Campbell. "Because subjectivity in reality is objectivity in America!" And of course Andrew wasn't stumped by that and they both rubbed their chins and realized how smart they were <3<3<3. then Troll Campbell asks why they are in a time machine? And Hussey says that "your name sounds like soup but i'll still answer you because you're my favorite troll actor." Then andrew presses a lot of buttons and says "TO BEGIN AT THE END, WE MUST FIRST END AT THE BEGINNING!" and it was true! BUT SOMETHING GOES WRONG AND THEIR TIME MACHINE EXPLODES!!! and no one knows if they survived. :( Keep reading to find out.

Chapter 2 - I Am Probably Going To Get Sued For This Chapter Please Keep Me Anonymous

By An Anonymous Contributor

A silly girl naps inside her sleeping bag. It is quite likely that she tired herself out with a variety of silly antics, as silly girls are often known to do. She may have a silly name too. Or maybe not. It is hard to say for sure without asking her.

But since she's slumbering peacefully, it would be a shame to wake her up. You might as well just give her a name right now.

You enter the name Deagle "Skippy" Matterhorn II. That's a cool name. I like that name. Thanks for suggesting that name. But she's still sleeping. God damn.

"WAKE UP DEAGLE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!" I scream into her ear.

She wakes up. "That was a wierd dream," she says.


"Who is Deagle?"

"I. I thought you were Deagle."

"I'm Travis Trudy."

"Right. Right. I remember now. Your name is TRAVIS. You're an avid reader of MANGAS and a dedicated watcher of ANIMES. Your favorite Anime is ディスクワールド, as apparent by the number of DISCWORLD ACTION FIGURES splayed on the ground. You really need to CLEAN YOUR FUCKING ROOM. What will you do?"

"I'ma gonna-"

"OH! Look, your friend is pestering you on the computadoras! You better answer that right away." I jump out of the window and leave.

tragicallyBeautiful began pestering floppyCoppy

TB: im sad

TB: rly sad

TB: y rnt u anserin me


FC: sburb

TB: omg trav

TB: ive missed u so much

FC: i don't care let's play sburb

TB: i went 2 fast 2day

FC: that's really sad let's play sburb

TB: i went so fast i got naked

TB: i outran my clothes

FC: you can make clothes in sburb


TB: sounds like a gr8 g8me!

TB: ow my sunburn

FC: do you have the sburb discs?

FC: the game claims that it holds a whole world in those discs

FC: that really appeals to me


I'm going to kill Trudy Travis said Troll Bruce Campbell. Andrew Hussie doesn't care. He is too busy trying to raise a kid of his own. Softowl's pregnancy was why Hussie quit writing Homestuck. Dude where are your pants says Cole Phelps. He then shoots them and then himself. But Hussie comes back to life anyway in a few more chapters, probably. I don't know. I've only written one chapter.

Chapter 3 - An absolutely unexpected turn; also, there is a beautiful pony in this one.

By King of Clubs

I looked into the richly ornamented mirror and a gorgeous grimace of misery stared back at me. A pale face of tender features, nestled in hair white as chalk. Two sparkling stars that didn't have the same colour and seemed to come from different corners of the most beautiful galaxy of the universe. However, they orbited a black hole of sorrow, as it was exactly this view I couldn't bear. I closed my eyes and tried to flee from my tragedy, but I couldn't. Images appeared. Images of the wicked people that envied me about my beauty. People who didn't possess my gifts and talents and would do anything to be in my place. A single tear ran down my soft cheek, as I realized that they would never know my pain. I pitied the simple, ugly and ungifted people, but I pitied myself even more than them. How could someone of my perfection lead a normal life? I cursed the fate that gave me this burden and I struck my hand furiously against the mirror. It burst into a thousand pieces, but the grimace of beauty did not disappear. Instead a thousand images of me stared back at me and wept at my tragedy.

I bolted to my canopy bed and alighted on the soft, maroon blanket. I looked at my hand. A single drip of blood ran out of a wound. A ruby on a snow-covered plain. The images grinned gleefully. „So it is true what they say about breaking mirrors.“, I thought. Sighingly I remembered all the things that doubtlessly didn't make my situation any easier. On one side there was my ability to fly that made me more of a outcast than anything else. It was a terrible curse that forced me to be the queen of the sky. The other problem were my cold, heartless parents.

A view on my possessions revealed how little my parents cared about me: A big wardrobe, filled with clothes of all the colours. Some guitars which played unearthly melodies, guided by my divine fingers. A stereo system that- Oh. Suddenly I realized that there was no ballad, extoling my misery. I managed to bring myself to get up from the bed and to scuff sluggishly to the stereo system so that I could play a CD from My Chemical Romance. Then I sunk into my bed again and got back to where I left.

Now come one,

Come all,

A view on my possessions revealed how little my parents cared about me.

To this tragic affair,

Wipe off that make up,

A big wardrobe, filled with clothes of all the colours.

What's in is despair,

So throw on the black dress,

Some guitars which played unearthly melodies, guided by my divine fingers.

Mix in with the lot,

You might wake up and notice you're someone you're not,

A stereo system that was bewailing my sorrow with the song „The End“ from My Chemical Romance“.

If you look in the mirror and don't like what you see,

You can find out firsthand what it's like to be me,

An old mirror of which only shards were left, just like my life.

So gather 'round piggies and kiss this goodbye,

I'd encourage your smiles,

Some framed fotos on which I stood one some exotic islands, acting as if I was happy.

I'll expect you won't cry,

A shelf filled with shoes, sparkling like tears in the daylight.

Ahhhhhh! Ahhhhhh!

Ahhhhhh! Ahhhhhh!

A 60 inch plasma television that showed people who were just as shallow and unreal as the mask I was wearing to heroically avoid bothering others with my sorrows.

Another contusion,

My funeral jag,

A bunch of flowerpots with sundew and venus flytraps, plants that were as deadly as my terrifying abilities.

Here's my resignation,

I'll serve it in drag,

Marmoreal statues, as cold and stony as my parents' hearts.

You've got front row seats to the penitence ball,

When I grow up I want to be nothing at all!

Shelves of books, unread and filled with black ink, just like my own heart.

I said yeah,


A grandfather clock, cutting time into endless seconds.

I say yeah,


A beautiful pony, trapped like me.

Come on,

Long, crow-black curtains, waving in the wind that used to carry me.

I say save me!

(Get me the hell out of here!)

A wastepaper bin, full of gift wrap, like the heads of the people out there, that are filled with the waste of this wretched world.

Save me!

(Too young to die and my dear,)

An enormous painting that captured my beauty like that of a Dorian Gray. But like my face it did not succeed in showing my true sorrow.

You can't...

(If you can hear me, just walk away and...)

A desk that hid many drepressing secrets in its many drawers, just like my mind.

...Take me!

A computer, screaming in utmost agony – like my gentle lips – that- Oh.

As I looked at my computer, I saw that Alex Alexson war pestering me. He told me something really bizarre about time travel and the end of the world and that I had to play some game called SBURB to save the future. Of course I believed him immediately. A person that carries goodness in her heart – even though this heart may be clutched by dark claws of sorrow - knows the truth when she sees it. And in the words of this man – he may not be the true hero of this story, but he was highly nobly – was all the truth of this world.

Yet I hesitated. A good person is obliged to bring good into the world. But would it really bring good into the world to save all these wicked and corrupt people? I and Alex may be filled with goodness, but what about all those other people? What about my heartless parents and the faceless crowd that judged me for what I was? I pondered. What could make a human being that wasn't me good?

Then the scales fell from my eyes. He loved me! If you aren't good because you are in possession of goodness, like me, then you can only be good because you desire goodness. And how else could you describe love than wanting to possess the object you desire? Of course I was obliged to reward him for this noble feeling by saving his life. That's why I didn't waste another minute and told him that I was ready to save this worthless world.

I was waiting. Because Trudy was installing SBURB. And this took a while. Then Trudy was done. She connected with me. She was the client. And I was the server. I could see her. Through my monitor. It showed her room. In which she stood. I opened the Phernalia Registry. I looked at the objects. Which were shown. On my monitor. I moved my mouse. Until the cursor was over the Cruxtruder. I tried to place it in Trudy's room. It was not possible. I realized that there was not enough room for it. I had to put away some objects. To make some room. For the Cruxtruder. Because they stood in the way. I did this by selecting them with my cursor. And raising them. And carrying them outside. And putting them down. Amongst these objects were: Trudy's bed. Trudy's wardrobe. Trudy's stereo system. Trudy's television. Trudy's plants. Trudy's statues. Trudy was very angry about this. Then I tried again to put down the Cruxtruder. By selecting it. With my cursor. And moving it to where I wanted to place it. And placing it there. But this did not suffice. Because there were other big objects. Which I had to place. And now I had enough room for them. In Trudy's room. The next object was the Totem Lathe. I selected the Totem Lathe. I moved the Totem Lathe to an adequate place. I put down the Totem Lathe. The next object was the Alchemiter. I selected the Alchemiter. I moved the Alchemiter to an adequate place. I put down the Alchemiter. Now I had placed all the big machines. Trudy looked very confused. She did not know what use these big machines had. I would tell her later what use these big machines had. But now I had to do something else. Because these was still something other than the big machines. The Pre-Punched-Card. I selected the Pre-Punched-Card. I moved the Pre-Punched-Card to an adequate place. I put down the Pre-Punched-Card. Now I had done eveything that was necessary to get Trudy into the Incipisphere. Then Trudy did what was necessary to get into the Incipisphere. I watched this through my monitor. But at first I used my computer to tell her what she had to do to get into the Incipisphere. Now Trudy knew what she had to do to get into the Incipisphere. Trudy went to the Cruxtruder. She turned the wheel on the Cruxtruder. Nothing happened. Then I remembered that there was something else I had to do to get Trudy into the Incipisphere. I had drop something heavy on the Cruxtruder so that the Cruxtruder opened. I had already moved most of the heavy objects outside. But the was still something heavy in Trudy's room. I moved my cursor to the corner of Trudy's room. I selected Trudy's beautiful pony. I moved Trudy's beautiful pony with my cursor to the Cruxtruder. I dropped Trudy's beautiful pony on the Cruxtruder. The Cruxtruder opened. Trudy's beautiful Pony fell to the floor. Neighing. The room was filled with a bright light. Trudy squinted her eyes, because the light was so bright. Then the light got less bright. A snow-white Kernelsprite hovered flashing between Trudy and Trudy's beautiful pony. I had to prototype the Kernelsprite. Otherwise something really terrible would happen. And Trudy would not be able to finish SBURB. I moved my cursor to Trudy's beautiful pony. I selected Trudy's beautiful pony. I raised Trudy's beautiful pony. I moved Trudy's beautiful pony to the Kernelsprite. I dropped Trudy's beautiful pony into the Kernelsprite. The Kernelsprite was now prototyped with Trudy's beautiful pony. Now I had done everything I had to do to get Trudy into the Incipisphere. But Trudy was not done with doing everything she had to do to get into the Incipisphere. Trudy moved closer to the Cruxtruder and turned the wheel on the Cruxtruder. A snow-white Cruxite Dowel appeared. Trudy took the Cruxite Dowel. Trudy went with the Cruxite Dowel to the Totem Lathe. Trudy put the Cruxite Dowel into the Totem Lathe. Trudy went to the Pre-Punched-Card. Trudy took the Pre-Punched-Card. Trudy went with the Pre-Punched-Card to the Totem Lathe. Trudy put the Pre-Punched-Card into the Totem Lathe. The Totem Lathe carved the Cruxite Dowel. Meanwhile Trudy looked out of her window. There was a meteor appearing on the sky. It moved towards her house. It would kill her if it hit her house. Trudy did not panic, because she was brave and beautiful and talented. She knew what she had to do to escape the meteor and get into the Incipisphere. Trudy took the carved Cruxite Dowel. Trudy went with the carved Cruxite Dowel to the Alchemiter. Trudy put the carved Cruxite Dowel on the platform that was made to put the carved Cruxite Dowel on it. The Alchemiter analysed the carved Cruxite Dowel with a laser. The Alchemiter recognised the informations on the carved Cruxite Dowel. A snow-white object appeared. It was a Cruxite Artifact. It was a snow-white mirror. Trudy looked into the snow-white mirror. She had to destroy the snow-white mirror to get into the Incipisphere. Trudy did not dare to destroy the snow-white mirror, because her reflexion was so beautiful. Overwhelmed by her beauty SBURB changed its mind and let Trudy enter the Incipisphere for looking into the snow-white mirror. Trudy entered the Incipisphere.


It was a stormy night and thunder growled far away. Of course it was not possible to verify this, since the place where Andrew Hussie was had no windows. But in Death's realm it was always night, it was always stormy and there was always thunder growling far away. He was sure about that. Hussie looked around nervously. He was in a dark cave. Its extent was almost immeasurable, so that he could not see the walls. There were games everywhere: Chessboards, so big that humans could serve as chessmen, games of Twister, parcel solved sodokus... These games were sorrounded by stalactites, rearing up like Death's bony fingers, to remind you of the price you had to pay, if you lost a game in this place. Hussie sat on a small, uncomfortable stool, next to a wooden desk that stood on shaky legs and was corroded by termites. Next to him sat Troll Bruce Campbell. His gray skin shimmered in the pale light of the chandeliers that were hanging from the ceiling. He was cosplaying as his most famous role. The snooty usher from Spider Themed Comic Book Superhero Has An Identity Crisis And Also Fights Against Troll Alfred Molina Who Is Controlled By Mechanical Arms On His Back And Is Obsessed With Building A Fusion Reactor Which May Or May Not Destroy Troll New York, But Is Eventually Thrown Into The Troll Hudson River, Because Troll Spiderman Convinces Troll Doc Oc That His Fusion Reactor May Or May Not Destroy Troll New York. On the other side of the desk were two incarnations of Death, who appeared in his traditional black robe. On the desk were two richly ornamented hourglasses with the names Andrew Hussie and Troll Bruce Campbell on them. All the sand was in the bottom halves. Next to each person was a deck of 40 cards.

Andrew Hussie and Troll Bruce Campbell had both agreed to play a Yu-Gi-Oh! duel against Death. They had to win against both incarnations of Death to leave the underworld and continue their mission to stop this fanfiction from being written. But if one of them lost, his soul would be thrown into the 413th circle of hell, where he would be eternally forced to read the chapter in which he lost against Death. Again and again. And again. Also, they would be forced to sign autographs. Or at least Hussie, because nobody wants an autograph from Troll Bruce Campbell.

The duel started and eveyone drew five cards. Hussie would begin, then it was Death 1's turn, then Troll Bruce Campbell's and at last Death 2's. Andrew Hussie drew another card, then he looked at the cards in his hand. Dancing Fairy, Dreamsprite, Giant Soldier of Stone, Rainbow Flower, Malevolent Huzzler and Reverse Trap. Hussie pondered a while, then he shouted: „I set the Rainbow Flower in Attack Position and equip it with the Malevolent Huzzler! Also, I set a face-down card!“ The Rainbow Flower is able to attack the opponent's Life Points directly and the Spell Card raised its Attack Points to 1100. Hussie was quite sure that there was nothing Death could do to destroy the Flower until Hussie's next turn. Now it was Death 1's turn. He shouted: „I SET A MONSTER CARD FACE-DOWN, ANOTHER FACE-DOWN CARD AND I ACTIVATE FISSURE!“ This Spell Card would have destroyed Hussie's Rainbow Flower, if he hadn't countered it quickly by activating his face-down Trap Card, Magic Drain. Death nodded approvingly. „WELL DONE!“ Then it was Troll Bruce Campbell's turn. He shouted: „I set a face-down Monster Card!“ Now it was Death 2's turn. He shouted: „I SET A FERAL IMP IN ATTACK MODE!“

Now it was finally Hussie's turn. He drew a Dragon Capture Jar. „I set a Monster Card face-down! And I directly attack Death 1's Life Points with my Rainbow Flower!“ Death grinned gleefully. He always grinned. That's why he had the perfect poker face. „I ACTIVATE MY MASK OF WEAKNESS!“ Death's trap negated the effect of the Malevolent Huzzler, so that he only lost 400 Life Points. The both Deaths gave each other a high-five. Hussie sighed. He knew this would be a long and exhausting fight.


It was a long and exhausting fight, but the end was near. Death 2 was defeated. Death 1 had 700 Life Points left and on his field were the Summoned Skull, who 3000 Attack Points thanks to Yami and Dark Energy, and a Blue-Eyes White Dragon, who had already caused great damage with his likewise 3000 Attack Points. There was also the pernament Spell Card Toll, which forced every player who wants to attack to sacrifice 500 Life Points. Unfortunately both Hussie and Troll Bruce Campbell had only 500 Life Points left and there was no card on Campbell's side. It was Hussie's turn. On his side were the Dark Magician, who had 2700 Attack Points with Yami, and a face-down Trap Card. The only interesting card on his hand was Shield and Sword.

Hussie pondered. He had no idea how to defeat Death without one of them dying and he was sure that Campbell didn't have any good plans. He sighed. It seemed there was no other way. „I activate Shield and Sword!“ This card switched the Attack und Defense Points of all the Monster Cards, so that Hussie's Dank Magician could now defeat one of Death's monsters. „NOT BAD HUSSIE, BUT YOU CANNOT ATTACK ME WITHOUT KILLING YOURSELF! I AM INVINCIBLE!“ Hussie smiled knowingly and darted a meaningful glance at Troll Bruce Campbell. „I loved you in Troll Evil Dead II, Bruce-San!“, he whispered. Then he added louder: „I may perish, but I will take you and your damned dragon with me! I attack the Blue-Eyes White Dragon with my Dark Magician!“ „NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! “, shouted Troll Bruce Campbell. Death laughed evilly. „IT SEEMS YOU HAVE GIVEN UP ON LIFE, ANDREW HUSSIE!“ Now it was Hussie who laughed. „Not so fast, reaper! I activate my Trap Card Attack and Receive! This card allows me to inflict 700 Damage to your Life Points whenever I loose Life Points! And I just lost some of them by attacking your dragon! And that's why you loose!“ For a while there was a tense calm in the cave. It was occasionally interrupted by some water drops falling from the ceiling. Then the desk, the stools, Death 2 and everything else suddenly disappeared.

Death, Andrew Hussie and Troll Bruce Campbell were on an endless meadow. It was night and it was rainy. Somewhere far away a lightning appeared. Death clapped slowly. It was far less impressive than one could expect, as his hands only consisted of bones. „CONGRATULATIONS, HUSSIE! IF YOU HAD HESITATED, I WOULD HAVE CRUSHED YOUR FRIEND TROLL BRUCE CAMPBELL IN MY NEXT TURN. YOU TOUCHED ME WITH YOUR NOBLE SACRIFICE. THAT'S WHY I WILL LET BOTH OF YOU GO. AND AS AN ADDITIONAL GIFT I WILL REVEAL MY TRUE FORM TO YOU. LIVE LONG AND PROSPER.“ Then everything went black around Hussie, as he felt a mysterious force pulling him away. The last thing he saw was a beautiful pony in a black robe. „What kind of symbolic meaning could such a majestic equine being have?“, Hussie wondered.

Chapter 4 - Titan Free Love High School AU

By Trish


titan high

Sent: 11 December 2013



Subject: Re: about that assginrment...

At this point, I don't feel that any book could help me.

The endless jeering, unsympathetic teachers, uniformly-remorseless bullies -- is any book that school assigns me just going to make that disappear?

It's not just you; it seems like everyone's been insisting that a book can change a life. Maybe so, but I've always been too stubborn to let that happen to me.

But I'll read it anyway. I'll read it and I won't learn a thing, just to spite you.




"Hello, Blasto. This is the President Barack Obana. The meteors are coming. We have five hours until they land. I asked NASA but they wouldn't do anything to help. Now you are the only being Earth can turn to."

"This one cannot believe it," Blasto remarked in a bemused half-whisper. He was levitating in a secluded phone booth, tentacles shaking. "This one is becoming emotional."

"America begs for your assistance in this time of need, Blasto. Your job: stop the meteors. How you do so is up to you. Once the task is complete, I will give up my second term in office and give you sovreign control over the greatest country in the world." Tears were shimmering in Blasto's nearly-invisible eyes. "Thank you for your everlasting patriotism. Goodbye. I salute you."

Blasto hung up. Immediately afterward he slammed into the side of the phone booth, sobbing his soft alien heart out. All along, this had been his dream. It all felt so ethereal!

"Oval Office..." He whipped out five guns, fired in al directions, and blew up the booth around him. Hovering triumphantly over the smoke and rubble, he hollered, "Here this one comes!"

Tap. "Victoria..."

Blasto already knew how he was going to handle this. He made a plan in his head and...wait, what was that last line? Blasto already knew what...

"Victoria!" Ms. Crabapples gave her a karate chop on the shoulder.

She lurched, nearly flinging her school-appointed copy of Prospit Nights across the classroom. "Ow!" she hissed.

"While I appreciate your enthusiasm for reading, I would rather you not show it while you are being asked a question."

Victoria shoved the book aside. "Hey, wasn't that some kind of abusive practice? You gave me a frigging karate chop!" She looked to the rest of the class for support. "Isn't anyone with me?"

Everyone else just stared. "But, like, your people are strong, so, like...when it happens to you it's not like it matters," said some sassy girl.

"Yeah, I agree," everyone else said, and they nodded unanimously.

"I'll go to the principal's office about this."

"No you won't," said Ms. Crabapples.

Victoria sighed loudly and slunked farther into her chair. "Then repeat the question."

It was something about algebra, another thing she didn't need. She wasn't planning on getting a job that required all that. She guessed she wasn't even planning on getting a job. What's the point of getting anywhere in life if you're kept out of the nice places and fenced in where nobody wants you?

She could no longer pass time by reading, and she had no interest in the classwork, so she sat back and daydreamed until lunch.

Blasto already knew how he was going to handle this. He made a plan in his head, like he always did. He tried to think of what the best damn towns in America were, so that he could go around and recruit the best damn people from them. Immediately, he thought of state capitals. He hopped a Greyhound bus and in no time flat, he was out in the wide open pseudo-frontier of modern-day Texas. (How Victoria would kill for some wide-open spaces!)

Blasto posed as a hitchhiker along a road surrounded by desert, because he knew that the toughest folks were always going places in the world, and the ones with the tough hearts would extend a hand to strangers. The first car came across him was a small grey buggy, scraping by at, he'd assume, twenty miles an hour. When the window rolled down beside him, he saw a fellow non-Earthling with candy corn horns and shaggy black hair. "WHO THE FUCK IS THIS GUY," he said flatly.

"This one is Blasto, the first Hanar Specter. The President wants YOU!"

"I'M KARKAT. FUCK OFF." And he drove away.

Victoria slammed the book shut. She looked around, just to make sure she was still safe at home on her bed.

"This book is really getting good," she said to nobody in partucular.

Her mother called out to her from down the stairs. What she was saying weren't words, not according to her classmates, not by any stretch of their collective imagination. In truth, Victoria couldn't call it English. She had trouble deciphering it more often than you'd think.

"I'll be down soon," she hollered out the door.

It didn't help; Mother was still talking. Victoria Titannical-Jones set Prospit Nights down and hustled down the stairwell, about seventy-five full feet down.

Once upon a time, she'd been looking for friends too. It was almost like how Blasto was looking for comrades to help him save Earth and become the President, especially in that both goals were highly unrealistic.

At this point in the chapter Blasto had caught up with the mysterious Karkat Vantas, who was a sweetheart deep down. He took Blasto to a town hall meeting, where he shook hands/tentacles with local noire-style cop and Olympic gold medalist Cole Phelps.

"It's nice to meet this one," said Cole with a big, hearty smile. "Let's have a seat." And he pulled up some chairs, and they all sat down, and they started to drink some coffee. "If you recruit me, you have to swear to let me be Vice President. And then you have to die after thirty days in office."

Blasto thought it over for a moment, then shrugged. "This one says okay, but only just this once."

"Great," said Phelps with great geniality.

"...Wait. What is that one behind you?"

Phelps whirled around and locked eyes with a mystery man who wasn't there before. "Oh, it's just Kurtwood Smith, some actor."

"No..." the man said coldly. "I'm Neil's father, and I'm your father too. Go to medical school."

Phelps broke out into a cold sweat. "No!" he yelped. "No! No! No!" He fumbled around in his pockets for a gun, and Blasto pulled out all thirteen of his own!

""No?"" The evil father from the movie Dead Poet's Society chortled. "Okay then, that's all you have to say! "No!" Then I won't make you go to Harvard!" Everybody laughed for a few moments. "Do you wanna be a cowboy?"

"Um..." Phelps searched around the room anxiously. Blasto eyed him with ghostly suspicion. "President or cowboy, huh... Can you give me, like, thirty minutes to think about it?"

Neil's father whipped out a time ray and zapped Phelps with it. "Why?" Blasto pleaded. He felt tears in his eyes again.

The dad shrugged. "The boy just needed to go back to cowboy times again!"

Victoria wondered if all her friends were stranded back in the cowboy times or something.

Cole appearified back in the Old West, circa 1955, and since Future Texas was farther above sea level than Old Texas, he spiraled downward and buffeted his head hard against the side of a local wooden outhouse. About half his skull got chipped clean off, and blood painted the structure. His brain got scraped off, too, so he lost all his memories. He didn't want to be a cowboy OR a president anymore, and he sure as hell didn't remember how to save the world! "GAAAAAAADZOOKS!" he cursed as he began to recover his senses. "Who the CRIMINY am I anymore?"

He looked at the outhouse, and then he noticed that he was inside a little bit of the toilet somehow, so he called himself "John." Then he looked on the ground and saw a hat, some sand, a cactus, and a little tiny marmoset. He decided to just call his last name "Marston" because that sounded cool.

Victoria had her head too deep in the book; she slammed herself into a tree and fell right over backward. "Ouch," she moaned. Luckily, it didn't hurt her as much as it could have. It could've cleared her skull out, like that outhouse did in the storybook, but it didn't, and that was because her classmate was right; her mother's side was made a sterner stuff.

The sidewalks were perfectly clean, well-maintained, and twenty feet wide on the dot to accomodate crowds and citizens of all sizes. For all that effort, though, they were nearly always empty.

She got up bladly and began to walk around the tiny growing oak, but suddenly, the boughs of the tree starting shaking and jostling. "WoAoAoAoAoAh!" somebody cried from within!

"What the hell?!" Victoria wasn't sure whether to help or run, so she turned wildly to and fro like a jackass. Eventually the guy just plummeted out, hitting the concrete forehead-first like a truck.

She noticed he was wearing a uniform that was a lot like the ones they had in school - brown decorated jacket, white shirt and pants, a multitude of black belts such as an overdesigned anime character might wear.

His skull just got straight-up cleaved out.

He toppled to the ground in a bloody heap, then searched around frantically for something familiar. "S-s-sidewalk...t-t-t-tree..." He kneeled and cried heavenward, "WHAT'S MY NAAAAAAAAAAAME!!!"

Chapter 4

Titan High

The two of them left the hospital in a drizzle of nighttime snow, arm-in-arm. A huge bandage covered the injured young adult's head-side, almost hiding one eye completely. There were still spots of blood on his school uniform.

"You're saying I go to your school?" he said. "But...I don't remember any of this!"

"You got amneesia," Victoria said with a sigh. "Of course you wouldn't."

"If you know I'm from school, then what's my name?"

"I don't know jack about my classmates, except a couple of "friends." I just know you have the school uniform on."

He looked down, stunned. "This ain't for school. Look, this is obviously equipment!" He grabbed a blade-looking thing from a holster and whipped it out in front of her face. "See this? Do you carry these?!"

"Woah! Put that thing away! Don't cry for me, Argentina!"

He laughed. "Okay, okay. But what's Argentina?"

Victoria sighed, then gave him a knowing smirk. "Oh, honey. You've got a lot to leeeeearn..." She winked.

That night, Victoria took him home. She took care to avoid her father, and her mother - especially her mother - for the time being. For now, she was just going to school this guy on the countries and continents of the world map. As soon as he snapped back to his senses, she told herself, he'd be out of her ball park.

They sat across from a window overlooking the Greater San Francisco Area. Much of the outside world was dark purple sky and skyscrapers, but a ways out was a patch of ocean, and near that a patch of green. The injured guy glanced out the window and felt a pang in his chest...but he didn't know why, of course.

Victoria snapped her fingers a bit. "Hey," she barked. "I got the map out. Look alive or you'll be a dummy forever."

He nodded.

She thrust a pointer at an elongated land mass in the lower-left section of the world map. "This is Argentina, boy," she said with great conviction. "Do you remember any of this stuff yet?"

"...What's that over there?" He pointed outside.

"That's the ocean. It's really big, and it surrounds everything."

"...I wanted to go to the ocean once."

"Okay, well, that's good, I guess. You remember maybe one stuff. Here's Chile. Remember this or the geography teacher is going to be pissed."

"What's that field?"

"That's School Maria."

He squinted. "Oh, so...I go to a military school, probably."

"Oh, no, we don't go to that school." Victoria glanced askancely away. "I mean I potentially could go, but...nobody lets me. It's...elementary through college."

"Do they not want you around kids?"

"Well, they don't want me around..." She put her fingertips together. "Okay, how do I explain this? They don't want me around really tall people."

"Do you not play sports?"

"You kidding? I'm like this huge soccer nut. No, they don't wnt me around certain kinds of people." She leaped out of her chair and opened the window, letting a fresh breeze and a bit of snow in. Pointing straight down she said, "See that?"

The guy peeked out. "The sidewalk. What about it?"

"Those were made to allow certain kinds of people to get around in this city. They're so wide because if they weren't, certain kinds of people wouldn't be able to get around. So the schools that allow these certain kinds of people are wide-open spaces. And yes, I sure wish that I counted as "certain kinds of people."" She let loose the air-quotes.

"By "counted," you are but you aren' of them."

"Exactly. Now, can you please...not hate me irrationally for being different?" He stared into her eyes, her face. Victoria told herself to put on a smile for this kind but somewhat-inattentive visitor, and she did. Sadly she'd forgotten that her smile tended to scare people, and he flinched when he saw it. That smile! It was so uncanny, nearly inhuman, especially when the rest of her was so much like his own flesh. Unknowingly, she'd brought back so many memories...

He backed away. He took one of his sword-things. And he slowly took Victoria's arm from behind her, and poked her with the blade's tip.

"I'm Eren Yaeger, and I need to destroy the nape of your neck."

Sent: 09 September 2009



Subject: If you really need to know

You've already heard bits and pieces of this from people who've gone to my middle and elementary school. But if you really want to know the story behind the name Victoria Titannical-Jones, you need to get it from the source. Just promise you won't be like the others, and I'll hear out your stories too.

My first last name is from my mother, my second from my father: Titaness Titannical and Douglas Jones. Do you see where this is going? I'll give you a hint: my mother was a titan and my father wasn't. The doctors said my conception was a miracle. Scientists had been doubting such a genetic "mule" was even possible for years. But I'm the living proof, so plainly, it isn't.

I'm stronger than the average humann, but I'm barely taller than the average human. In fact, I hardly look any different from the average human, except when I smile. As you'd except, my best school pictures are also the dullest. My strength and my smile are my mother's, and that's it. I'm also special in other hot physical ways that would make for a good fan fiction sex scene, and when I want to I can go from male to female, but that's not the point of this message. Far. From. It.

Do you know what I dream of? A Titan High. High school for titans. You and I know that already exists, though. People make fun of those schools sometimes. They say all they do is pet the animals on the farm and learn about primary colors. All of that is pretty much true. But they shouldn't be making so much fun. That's a place I think I wanna go. For one, the place is wide and open space. It's just lovely. For another, titans don't prejudice. The titans are a peaceful people, and I know this because my mother is the most loving soul I'll ever meet. Besides, I'm half-them, so humans don't want me anyway. It's a win-win situation if I go.

But nobody will let me, so I'm trapped. At least there's not too much time left...come 2013, I'll almost be graduating, right?




She's pretty much always right, and you love that about her. She's telling you NOT TO LET ANY OF THOSE QUACK DOCTORS REMOVE YOUR FOREHEAD BANDAGES. Why is she saying that? Who cares, even? She's COOL. She's GREAT. She's probably RIGHT.

Your LAPTOP is bleeping and blopping! You guess RENO BLIGHT is pestering you.

> VR: Answer.

sickBay [SB] began to be pestered by blightLights [BL].



BL: I do. But this is a dreadfully important matter, I'm afraid.

BL: You need to take something form me.

SB: but im fuggin suck

SB: fick

SB: w/evv

BL: Seriously, dude, you need to shut up and take my game. I, um, I don't want this cluttering up my filespace anymore. Yeah, that's why.

BL: I have to download my animes and stuff.

SB: but i have a gotee

SB: only kids can open files

BL: No.

blightLights just sent you a copy of sBURB. Then he logged off.

SB: F U 2


> VR: Play the game.

What are you, a HOMOPATH? No double-dog way you'd play it! At least NOT YET.

Trudy Travis proceeds to flip you over and give you a NICE BACK MASSAGE.

Eren Yaeger was aghast. "What? You're...reading a book, Victoria. Titans...they don't do that."

The sword was still at her neck nape.

He tossed the sword to the concrete floor, and it shattered just like glass. Eren crumpled to the floor and shouted in delirium, "TITANS DON'T DO THAT!!"

"Then what the hell kind of titan are you familiar with?"

A bit of hair that Eren had torn out from his head drippled to the floor. "They walk around, smile, and then they ear people. That's it. They're monsters, and I'm part of the military. We destroy them! We crush them! That's just the way it is!"

"It's not that way here!" Victoria stomped her foot and nearly tore a hole in the floor. "Don't you get it?! .....It's not that way here."

Eren wheezed, exhausted. "I guess I don't come from this place, then."

"I guess you don't." Victoria sighed and slammed the window shut. "Well, are you, um, gonna...get back home?"

"I'm not."


"Don't know how."

"Do you hate me?"

"Um, kind of. I still want to kill you."

"Wanna make out?"


Later that night, not only did they make out, but also they had sex.

4: Titans don't prejudice.


What's this? You suddenly got a VISION of DISTANT, but CURRENT, EVENTS.

It seems that DEATH has been BEATEN AT CARDS by ANDREW HUSSIE, who just did a ROYAL FLUSH on his ass or something. You DON'T KNOW. All you know is that Andrew IS A PRO AT WHAT HE DOES. SO IT APPEARS.

Andrew and Troll Bruce began bartering with Death.

ANDREW: Okay, I beat you. That's game. Give us something, jerk.


TROLLBRUCE: That's old-school. Give us something we can actually make use of.


Death gives Andrew and Troll Bruce superpowers.

ANDREW: Wow! What powers are these?


ANDREW: Thanks a lot, Death!

TROLLBRUCE: We're done here. Should we destroy him?

ANDREW: Nah, not yet. You'll probably disrupt the universe even further if you do that.

Death sheds a single tear.

ANDREW: You don't mind if we take some of those costumes in your closet, do you, pal?

Death gently weeps. Meanwhile, Andrew and Troll Bruce become Ghost Rider and Troll Deadpool, respectively.


4: End

If Eren didn't go back to school, and he didn't have a home, and his family wasn't around, well...where would he go?

Victoria dragged Eren down the wide sidewalk. A friendly titan passed over them, and everybody waved to one another kindly.

"I don't think I can ever get used to that. Everything else, fine. Modern technology, I don't really like. Phones, they suck. But all that I can deal with." Eren gritted his teeth. "But whenever I see those titans just walking about, they scare the bejeebus outta me..."

An incredibly tall Titan Bus wheeled by. "They're not out to kill anybody," Victoria, running, said. "That's cuckoo-crazy. Just act toward them like you would to any normal person. Because that's what they are here."

"Where are we going?"

"A homeless shelter. We need to put you away somewhere. But seriously, you need a job at McDonald's or something." Eren smiled with understanding.

He guessed life was going to turn out even better than he had anticipated. All these would probably be alright, because of her.


"I'm looking for a Mr. Yaeger...please."

The lady at the desk nodded. "He's in room 224."

"Thank you," Victoria said with a brisk nod as she sped away. The homeless shelter was actually more like a big apartment complex for old loser humans without much money. Of course, she'd already learned Eren's room number, just not yet by heart.

As she drew nearer, the sweet sounds of an electric guitar burned brighter. She kicked the door open and saw Eren criss-crossed on the floor of a shabby three-room place, strumming his heart out. He'd started to grow out his hair, and a beard was forming, giving his a hot, hot, chiseled look. "Eren!" she squealed with delight.

"I'm thinking of forming a band," he said whilst continuing to play at full blast.

"Really? Well, you've got some talent. Unlike me, I guess."

"Listen, Victoria. Everybody has some talent deep inside of them. Books should've taught you that?"

She blinked. "Books, teach me? Impossible."

"I'm serious. Are you still reading that Prospit Nights book?"

"Yeah, I have it with me."

Eeren set his guitar down. "Here, give it here," he said with a little gesture. VIctoria pulled the little book out from her pocket and did so. He leafed through it, then slapped his finger down at seemingly-random. "See, look here."

It read, "I, and those like a clam and all others who work at the doctrine of the immortal."

"What about it?" she said.

"You're not feeeling the text, are you? You have to feeel it, just like you would music. It goes deeeeep into your soul. Especially this book. This particular passage, right here, is sayin' that as long as you're working for something greater, be it a higher power or world peace or free love, you're working like a clam. You're working like a blessed person."

"That's beautiful, Eren Yaeger." Tears shimmered to life in her eyes. "And that John Marston, who was so much like you..."

"Yes, I know, I know. It's going to be alright, though. You have talent, and you're gonna make something of yourself. Who knows? Maybe once you're independent, you cna go to a titan college."

Victoria paused. Then, she smiled. And amazingly, she didn't look creepy anymore - far from it. Eren though she was a stunning beauty. "Thank you, so, so much."

"Oh, and one more thing before we go make out. The name "Victoria" means "victorious." Always, always...know that."

Eren put on a nice CD, letting the good vibes and sunlight shine in.

Chapter 4


Sent: 30 January 2014



Subject: Goodbye forever

I found a chance to go back home. The bad news is, that way won't be forever. I need to make a decision NOW or I never go back!

I need to see what's in my father's closet. I need to see my old friend Armin again!

It's not that I'mn racist and want to beat up Titans again, I promise! If you want, you can come with me, but the portal is closing soon. Reply ASAP and I am NOT waiting longer than a day!

I love you, Victorious Titannical-Jones. You are a truly beautiful, kindred soul, but I think I need to leave this place forever.

Sent: 30 January 2014



Subject: Re: Goodbye forever

No. You're not leaving. Not after everything you said. Not after you just got your e-mail account. You were just adjusting to things! And now here you are, nostalgic for the medieval past or whatever?

I don't believe this portal thing one bit. If it really existed, you'd give me directions.

Sent: 30 January 2014



Subject: Re: Goodbye forever

4140 Baker Street the aisle near Titan School Maria

Victoria gasped.



"What's this shit? Colorful printed paper?"

"What kinds of dyes did they have to use to get these colors to come out so beautifully?"

"Why's this paper so shiny?"

The fliers were traveling across the town with wicked speed, just as planned. Townspeople were bewildered by their outstanding quality, their groovy colors, even before they read a single word.

The fliers were decked out in wonderfully 60's-inspired designs, and read: "WOODSTOCK - !!!#FREE#!!! MUSIC FESTIVAL - MEET AT WALL MARIA WITH OPEN EARS, OPEN HEART & OPEN MIND!"

The people of this town were sick and tired of their boring lives. Most of the time, they were just oberying the government so that they could avoid being crushed and chewed up by some Titans, and half the time that didn't even work. They needed some music to cheer them up. What most of them were expecting was a crappy minstrel, jester or puppet show. The reality was far different.

The first few visitors came across a huge field in the confines of Wall Maria, with a massive stage plopped down in the center of it. Strange, futuristic equipment sat aboard it, and so did large curtains, all of which had unknown purposes. "How long is this festival supposed to last?" one bewildered visitor said.

"I dunno," said Eren, who had appeared before them. Then his eyes widened. "Armin?!"

"Who are you?"

He felt his beard, and remembered how he'd changed in other respects. "I'm Eren. I've just been gone for a while, and I got this cool afro and beard."

"What's "cool" about that?"

"...Oh, I get it. You don't know slang yet!" Eren laughed, and Armin just glanced around in confusion. "But don't worry, I guess you'll learn it someday." Armin frowned.

"I guess we've grown apart."

"That's not true."

" isn't?"

"Yeah, it isn't! Now come on the stage with me. You can be in my band."

"But I can't play any instruments!"

"You'll play the tambourine, anyone can keep a rhythm. Just follow me!"

And so he did, scaling the steps to the magnificent black stage. Armin watched steadily as more guests poured in, talking amongst themselves and creating exciting hypothetical situations. "You know, if this festival goes on for more than a day, it's gonna rain, and there's gonna be mud everywhere."

"I know."

䅐⅐  Armin slapped him across the jaw. "I knew it. We're too different." And he stormed off.


Victoria appeared and grabbed his arm, stopping him. "Don't," she said. "He'll understand in a moment."

Soon, everyone began to sit down and settle in. They had nothing better to do than wait for the tunes to kick up...but before that, there was another unexpected surprise. First, an unfamiliar man by the name of Douglas Jones stepped in, wearing garish futuristic clothing, and sat right in the middle of the crowd. Then the real shock came: a Titan marched right in behind him, and sat right beside him, right in the middle of that crowd. There was bewildered silence.

A blood-curdling woman's shriek rang out somewhere, and that was the trigger. Humans scattered in all directions, screaming for the army and the three-D patrol and such. Eren got out his megaphone and shouted, "PEOple, PEOPLE! This Titan just wants to have a good time, like the rest of you! She doesn't gain anything from devouring people! She knows this! Put some faith in your fellow person for once!"

And then, because he had also been passing out fliers to the Titan community, more and more certain types of people came lumbering in and hunkering down. Eventually, Eren was able to placate the military and get most of the citizens, miraculously, to calm down.

There was, once again, the silence.

"Okay!" he megaphoned. "My name is Eren "Oh Yeah" Yaeger, and I'm here with the Oh Yeah Good Times Free Love Fresh Band. We're gonna be playing the jams non-stop come rain or snow or anything else, and there's nothing you can do about it! The drugs are in the back and the love is in the spirit, so let it shine! Oh, baby, just let it shine!" And to their amazement the crowd roared, humans and titans alike.

His bandmates, Victoria and Armin (who had been persuaded to come back) and Onceler and Greedler (who had become quite understanding of Victoria not only as a fellow "freak" at school, but as a true-blue friend), began to play. Eren keeled back and strummed that guitar until it plum near broke. That was how he did it. That's how he played, how he be, how he united the peoples of his home dimension. His music, his philosophies, it all became the catalyst of a new breed of happiness. It was the dawning of an age of goods vibes.

And that's how Prospit Nights helped a "half-breed" understand that even she could be loved, even she had talent, and that you, you and you, dear readers, are no different.


the end

Chapter 5 - Opposition

By BlackholePA

Chapter 5.1 - Heist

Tick, tock. Tick, Tock.

An echo, perhaps, passed down through the furthest ring from some distant corner of paradox space. A warning that the momentous was about to take place. Or, perhaps, the not so momentous.

Whatever the case, it mattered little to Travis. The clock overhead kept its steady rhythm as he pulled the mask over his head and checked his earpiece to ensure it was held securely in place. He noticed little of his surroundings, his mind consumed by the feat he was about to attempt. One long since dreamed of, and yet a dream that he had never thought to see come to pass. Yet, after many an hour sat alone wondering at such a prospect, stretches of time broken only by the occasional foray into the bottomless archive of Discworld episodes that any true fan of the animes would be sure to possess, he was finally here. He was about to rob the Bank of England.

"Is the location confirmed?" He whispered into his earpiece microphone, mask now secure. "I wouldn't want to put my arse on the line for the sake of a false trail."

No answer was coming from the device, aside from the faint omnipresent crackle of static.

"Vmsdfx! Answer, Goddammit. I need to know that we're looking in the right place."

A faint click coming down the line signified his partner in crime picking up his end of the conversation. "The location is as close to spot on as we're ever going to get, Travis. Do you realise how little resolution I'm getting without my full array? You're lucky I can even tell what country the thing is in." Vmsdfx's voice sounded faint, and not just from being transmitted from halfway across the world, although that certainly contributed to its tinny quality. Nonetheless, the voice was both animated and determing, and the familiar sound of it in Travis' ear could not help but be reassuring.

"You told me you were the best. Don't tell me now that that was all just boasting."

"I am the best. Do you realise how difficult it is to gain access to government satellites halfway across the globe from a hospital bed? Besides, I don't see that you know any other hacker who would help you pull off this job. If I weren't already as good as dead I might not want to put my neck on the line."

"I just want to know that it's in there. I just want to know that we are finally going to be able to end this." Travis' voice was strained. A mixture of excitement and trepidation permeated his body. He was no stranger to adventure, and years of studying the Discworld archives had prepared him for almost any eventuality, but if he were to fail then there would be no telling the consequences.

"Look," said Vmsdfx levelly, his voice startling Travis out of momentary revery, "the Skaianet server I'm listening into is giving me a basic fix on the item, and I'm using all the processing power I have available to resolve that further using the satellite data. At the moment, it looks like its in the bank, but I won't be able to be more certain without a larger array. It looks to me a though we're just going to have to play this on faith. Trudy always said-" the voice cuts off abruptly, before picking up again, "what I mean to say is, sometimes in life you have to take risks."

"Is that how you ended up in a hospital bed?" Travis' voice sythed bitterly down the line.

"That is not a question that I have to answer," his friend replied. "It's almost twelve. You need to get going."

"You think I don't know that?" Travis shouldered his bag and prepared to embark on the most dangerous mission of his life so far.

The building that Vmsdfx had managed to closet him away in was almost directly across the street from the bank itself, looking out over the small plaza in front of the Royal Exchange. Any member of the public who decided to investigate past the demure stone facade would have found an establishment proclaiming itself as Green's Restaurant and Oyster Bar, and indeed could have purchased any number of oysters inside the building as they may have wished, never suspecting that Green's was merely a front for the hacker's operation.

Travis had often wondered why Skaia should wish to burden him with such a monumental task prior to his entry into the Medium, and one that would surely have been impossible had he not been forewarned by the oracle clouds long before this moment. As such, the framework for the heist was well in place before the start of the game, and all of the players had known what to expect when the alchemiter had failed to produce his entry item on its pedestal and, instead, decided to displace it several miles to the North. That is, he knew what to suspect insofar as the item would be hidden within a bank. Vmsdfx had planned the robbery of every such building within a two mile radius - a surprisingly large number to some, but not to one familiar with London. Travis did wish that it did not have to be this one, however.

He did garner a few odd looks as he crossed the streets in his mask, but people were used to the occasional freak wandering the streets. In the distance a clock chimed noon, and Travis smiled, knowing that at that very moment every security system in the building in front of him was deactivating. Turning left, then right, he aimed for the entrance to the bank museum, as per the plan. Everything would go right as long as he followed the plan.

The guards looked at him suspiciously as he entered with his mask, and then began to stride towards him as he shouldered his was past the queuing visitors. "Now wait just one moment, sir!" said a grim, balding man in uniform, extending his hand out towards Travis.

At precisely that moment, the lights went out.

Under the cover of darkness, Travis shoved his hands into his pockets, withdrawing two small, round objects and two slightly larger objects that both resembled one half of a pair of earmuffs. Pressing a small raised spot on the smaller objects downward, Travis threw them hard at the ground and quickly stuffed the larger objects onto his ears as the air seemingly began to ripple around him. Outside, cars seemed to veer suddenly off the road, crashing into eachother and the buildings around them. Glass rained down from windows, cascading in a razor sharp waterfall to the ground below. In the entrance to the bank museum, guests and guards alike staggered around, hands clapped to ears and shrieking unheard over the ungodly sound that was all of a sudden echoing around the building.

As suddenly as it had started, the noise seemed to stop. The lights flickered back on and everybody who had still been standing collapsed to the floor.

Everybody, that is, except for Travis.

Removing the protectors from his head he thumbed his earpiece. "Phase 1 is complete. Progress to Phase 2."

Vmsdfx's voice crackled down the line. "Those sonic decimators worked, then? I was worried when I realised we were going to have to alchemize them. I hate leaving things so late in any operation, let alone one like this."

"Where else were we ever going to get hold of a pair of sonic decimators, let alone a pair of ear protectors able to withstand them? They were certainly effective." Certainly they had been more useful than the razor-edged umbrella that he had produced in his first foray with the alchemiter. He nudged the balding guard with his foot. Something red seemed to be dripping from one of his ears. "Maybe a little too effective. I doubt they'll ever hear again. We were taking a bloody risk with these ear protectors; what if they hadn't worked? Then where would I be?"

"What about this operation isn't a bloody risk? Now hurry up, before any of them begin to wake up."

Travis thought that any of people surrounding him waking up anytime soon wouldn't be far short of a miracle, but he began to move nonetheless. Going almost on instinct, he followed a path long memorised from scouting missions and the study of blueprints, making his way past the exhibits. Upon arriving at what appeared to be a gold bar in a glass box, he reached into his bag and withdrew a larger gadget with a screen, halfheartedly aiming it towards the display. Numbers scrolled across the device, glowing softly yellow through the power of the screen's backlight.


"Not our target. But then the item brought into existence this morning was hardly going to be the one on display, was it?"

"How did you even know what one I was pointing it at?"

"You do realise I have your location on GPS down to the nearest metre, right?"

"Right. Got it."

Hurriedly replacing the device in the bag, Travis quickly moved off once more, heading towards a heavy-looking metal door at the far end. It opened silently at his touch, well polished on its hinges. A long corridor stretched away in front of him, walls painted in an ugly green. His earpiece began to crackle again.

"When you get in there, why not pull out the pre-punched card? Perhaps you'll recognise it."

"Come on, Vmsdfx. You do realise that all gold bars look exactly like all other gold bars, right?"

"They do until you see the inscription. Pull out the card."

"Honestly, I really don't think we have time for me to be fussing about with my bullshit modus."

Turning left at the end of the passage he was greeted by an open room at the end of another, shorter stretch of corridor. Guards lay slumped on the ground, breathing shallowly. The security cameras were turned away from the corridor, devoid of telltale red lights.

"Why do you think I'm lugging all of this around in a bag?" Travis shifted the bag in question, strapped to his back, with annoyance.

"Well, why didn't you put the card in the back as well, wise guy?"

"Because," Travis replied forced patience, "as I have told you at least five times now, the card isn't going to be any use."

Emerging into the larger room, Travis turned to face the smooth surface if the gigantic metal door the reared up to the ceiling on his right, set into the wall. A small smile appeared on his face as he hurried over to a keypad display to one side of the sealed opening.

"I'm at the door. Give me the code."

"Of course. Be ready to thumb it in as I recite. Have you got the eyepiece on?"

"Hell, almost forgot."

Reaching into his bag, Travis pulled out a small round container, flicking the lid open and retrieving a small, transparent, concave disc. Carefully he placed it upon the surface of his retina, then blinked a few times to dredged the suddenly watering eye. Glancing again at the unconscious guards,

"How are we doing for time?"

"You're doing fi-" The voice cut off suddenly, dissolving into a fit off coughing.

"Are you ok?" Travis' voice was anxious as he glanced about him anxiously for any movement.

"I'm fine." The coughing subsided as Vmsdfx's voice came back on the line. "I may have every illness on this goddam rock but I'm not dead yet. And far from powerless. Now, you're doing good on time, but won't be if you stand around there all day. Are you ready for the code?"

"I'm in position." Travis raised his hand to the keypad, poised to enter the required combination.

"Good," came the voice from down the line. "Now, enter as I dictate. 4-1-3-6-1-2-1-0-2-5-1-1-1-1. Got it?"

"I'm good!" Travis' voice was tinged with excitement as he entered the last few digits. There was a short buzz from the keypad as one of two red lights on the front turned green.

"Now the retinal scan. Quickly!" Even Vmsdfx sounded on edge now.

"Right," said Travis. Bending down slightly, he placed the eye containing the disc against a small aperture just above the keypad. The disc seemed to contract ever so slightly as he did so. Tensing, Travis stayed rigidly still as a beam of red light shone into his eye. This was the crucial moment in the plan. If the eyepiece failed to fool the scanner...

There was another short buzz as the second light flicked to green, followed by a louder clunk from the door.

"Yes!" Travis could not help but exclaim as the huge metal device continued to make reverberating clunking noises and the finally began to swing open.

"Ok, the cops will be well on their way by now, so you'll have to be quick. Once you find the item, it will reunite you with your house in the medium, and you'll be able to get away. Remember, the signal for this thing won't be able to reach you inside the vault, so you'll be on your own. Use the scanner; when the numbers turn green, you'll be looking at our target. Now go, go!"

Travis did not feel that he needed the enouragement. All but sprinting through the opening, he almost didn't notice the shelves stacked with gold amid his frantic scramble to retrieve the scanning device from his bag. Even when he did look up, he only paused for a moment to admire the way the light scattered off the smooth yellow surfaces. Jumping into the first aisle, he thrust the hand holding the scanner at the stacks of gold bars, quickly moving along the row.

"Vmsdfx?" Travis spoke tentatively into his earpiece, to be answered only by the static that had been building since he entered the room. He was truly alone.

A noise echoed faintly from down the next aisle along.

Travis froze, hackles raised as he listened for any other sounds. Reaching up with his free hand, he ripped the crackling earpiece away from the side of his head and stuffed it in his pocket, before cocking his head to one side, ears straining for noise. He was greeted by naught but silence.

Slowly, and then picking up more speed, he began to move once more, reaching the end of the aisle and turning into the next. Scanner still raised, he began to move down the row as quickly as the first.

3762 miles away, a pale figure gazed intently at the screen of a laptop, his faint pulse representing the last vestige of life to grace the empty ward. The lights were dimmed yet he worked by the light of his screen; his almost translucent fingers feverishly scrambling across the device in front of him. On his deathbed, Vmsdfx Rewoi had not forgotten his legacy. A life spent running rings around government systems and making waves in online circles, sickness had not impaired the mind of one of the greatest hijack hackers ever to live.

Cheekbones stood out from a face that would have looked at home in a grave, but his eyes flickered intently about the screen as he monitored the situation in London. The slim headset parting his thinning hair represented his only link to his friend, and yet at this critical moment even that link was worthless. Events were out of his hands for the most part, and his role was restricted to one of passive monitoring and the control of secondary systems. On one side of the screen lay a schematic of the Bank, a small red dot marking Travis' last known location outside of the vault marked with a small "connection lost" notification. Vmsdfx passed it over as he looked to the map of London laid out before him, superimposed with the precise position of incoming law enforcement. Travis had roughly five minutes to find the item if he was going to be able to make his getaway. The plan hinged on the hope that he would be able to find it in that time. He certainly should have been able to, with the aid of the scanner that Vmsdfx had procured for him. But "should" was not a certaintly. Vmsdfx hated uncertainties.

Suddenly a third window caught his eye; this one containing a map of collated satellite data focussed on the Bank and its immediate surroundings. A bright green splodge of colour illminated a small portion of a mostly dim map screen; green, to indicate energy emissions, coalescing inside the area contained by the vault. The vault, that is, which should have been shielded from any satellite penetration at all. Such a strong signal comming from the inside had to signify an event on an enourmous scale. An event that was iapparently occuring within just a dozen or so metres from where Travis was now searching for the entry item.

He had to be warned. Vmsdfx had to warn him! Whatever it was, it had to be incredibly dangerous! Perhaps if he were to sound an alarm, he could get Travis' attention and-


Arms encircled his waist. The laptop fell from where it was balanced on his thighs. His head sank downwards as he almost slipped from the pillows supporting his back in shock.


He felt as though the bed were being pulled out from underneath him. He fell sideways through the world and emerged somewhere else. Somewhere dark. A dark broken only by a single figure amongst the blackness.

"No... not now..." His voice sounded weak, but his body felt strong. He was returned to himself, or seperated, or, perhaps, both. "No... this isn't real... you're not real."

"Am I not?"

The figure was suddenly very close. If Vmsdfx felt strong, then Trudy's hands were like iron as they closed around his, pulling him deeper into the void. Deeper into nothing.

"No!" Vmsdfx battled the darkness, battled the weakness in his voice as he struggled to return to his bed in the darkened hospital ward. "No, not now... I have to help him! I need to save him! Travis... I need to help... Travis..."

"Come with me..." Trudy's voice seemed to come from everywhere at once as she, it, tugged the dying hacker deeper into the folds of delusion.

"No... this isn't real... I need to go back..." Vmsdfx's voice died on his lips as the hallucination enfolded him. The world inverted, fiction became fact, and memory faded for untold ages...


The reflections in the surface of the polished gold bars were all that gave Travis any warning as a beam of green light suddenly lanced from behind him, arcing over his body as he threw himself to the ground. The beam struck one of the shelves suddenly the world was fire and solid gold raining down upon the vault interior.

Rolling over, Travis just glimpsed the figure in jet black armour priming the weapon in his hand before he was forced to leap aside as another green ray transformed the ground where he had been lying into a smoking crater that stretched surprisingly deep into the Bank's foundations.

"You!" Travis' voice sounded stretched above the sound of roaring flames and groaning concrete supports, but the figure still managed to hear.

"Yes. Me." The voice was surprisingly genial as it echoed from the black helmet, the figure's British accent, while appropriate for the setting, seeming strangly benign for the man from whom it was being spoken.

Travis stared in horror as he gazed upon the image of darkness; the nemesis of all those who upheld what was good, and true, and Discworld.

"Evil Father from Dead Poet's Society. How can you be here?"

"Please," answered the voice in a neutral tone, the figure taking aim once more. I am not entirely incompetent."

An fresh bolt of light flew across the room, arcing upwards before blasting a hole through the ceiling. Rubble rained down upon Travis as he dodged through the debris.

"If the restaurant across the street coming under new management just a few weeks before your day of entry wasn't enough to forewarn me, the sonic decimators and incoming police sirens were." The Evil Father let loose another green arc of light as he spoke, shattering a ceiling light and, indeed, the ceiling where it struck. "As for how I got here," he continued, re-shouldering the weapon, "I teleported." With a grin he let loose another beam and once again flaming gold rained down around Travis as he dodged out of the way of the blast just in time. "Do you like my explode-ray?" The voice seemed genuinely interested. "Crude, I know, but it does do the job marvelously well."

The next blast sent Travis crashing to the ground, his left ear ringing from the percussive wave of sound that the explosion had emitted. Frantically, he stuffed his hand into his pocket, retrieving his earpeice and jamming it in his ear. Praying that the holes in the roof would be enough to establish a signal, he yelled frantically into its inbuilt microphone.

"Vmsdfx! Mayday! He's here; I repeat, the Evil Father from Dead Poet's Society is in the Bank!"

No static greeted him, but then neither did a response from his friend. Pulling the device from his ear, he examined it more closely. A small green light indicated an established connection. Replacing the device he screamed into it once more.

"Vmsdfx! I need a way out, now! He has some sort of weapon and-"

The next blast scooped Travis from the ground like a giant hand and sent him crashing into one of the concrete support pillars holding up the roof. Pain exploded in his side as he felt at least two of his ribs crack. Falling to the floor he whispered weakly into his earpiece.


There was still no response.

Suddenly, Travis became aware of the scanner that, miraculously, was still clutched in his right hand. Numbers were racing across the screen, which was casting a bright green glow across his face and beeping incessantly.


Staggering to his feet, Travis stumbled forwards towards the shelf opposite him, where atop a pile of identical gold bars there sat one which seemed to glow strangely bright in the still dim, reddish light. Tottering on unsteady legs, he reached out with his sylladex and prepared to...


The shelf in front of him exploded in a cascade of green light. As Travis was thrown backwards against a wall, sharp pain exploding in the back of his head, his last sight before his vision went dark was of the golden light shining from the oblong object suspended in mid-air as it vanished from existence.

"Better luck next time, Travis," the Evil Father's voice echoed as reality fell away from him and unconsciousness closed in.

Somewhere to the South, a house glowed with similar golden light as it apparently vanished from its neighbourhood, taking a large chunk of the surrounding ground with it; it's normal occupant most unfortunately absent from the premises.

Chapter 5.2 - Black

Approximately nowhere, and an infinite nonexistent distance North, South, East and West; that is to say, somewhere in the Medium, rows of polished back-wooded trees devoid of leaves studded a darkling plain, devoid of life as is a schoolroom on a Saturday, or say, a darkened hospital ward. The occasional raven did alight upon an ebony branch, but this engendered not a sense of life, but of lack. It's presence no longer even knew how to assuage the emptiness. Somewhere a tired God continued to guide those sorry wings in the motions of flight, preparing for the day when it feared those black bodies would be impossible to keep aloft. Until then their narrow flight paths traced around the darkened globe; lingering in midair, their monotony seeming to suspend time itself, stretching it like the withered cordae of a blackened heart.

You had a feeling that this was going to be a depressing day.

Snapping suddenly out of reverie, Trudy Travis - that is to say, the real Trudy Travis - looked about her at the dull surroundings. Black, as far as the eye to see. Black, that is, to suit her mood. Oh, to be born with such beauty and yet to be cursed by such a crippling sadness. Alas that upon the unblemished sands of her perfection some cruel God had seen fit to sew an errant seed of abnormality. Who would have thought that superpowers would be the cause of such perpetual woe?

Trudy didn't even pause to think that she might be getting a little overly dramatic here.

Thankfully, situated some few hundred metres to the left, though as little aware of the Japanamerican albino supergoth as she was of him, was somebody who could surely be said to have a far more sensible outlook than our obvious Sue insert. Jack Noir, a man who may or may not have been aware of a name shared with a certain Dersite archagent, was regarding the environment not as a reflection of some inner sorrow but rather as an object for his cynicism.

"It's not going to do you any good to sit here staring at it, you know." The raven that had spoken cocked its head as he gazed down upon Jack from his perch in the tree, eying him expectantly.

"Stop that." Jack turned his regard upon the bird for a moment before going back to gazing hatefully at the black plain.

"Stop what?" The bewildered bird shifted its head in a manner that truly only a bird can achieve.

"Stop interjecting unexpectedly in an attempt to make me jump." Jack turned his gaze back to the raven, a frown of contempt gracing his visage.

"I don't know what you're talking about." The bird looked distinctly taken aback now, again in such a manner that can only possibly be replicated with a beak.

"Oh come on, you're the sixth one to try that on me today. Hide it all you like, but you were really expecting me to jump a foot into the air and start blathering. Do you really think I'm that much of a Goddamn fool?"


"Yeah, yeah, ravens can speak, oh my God, I am so freaked out by this totally unexpected development. Let me just sit down for a second to contemplate the razor sharp execution of this tired old trope. My world sure has been turned upsidown here."

"Now hold on just one moment-" the bird started up indignantly but was quickly cut off again.

"I mean, it might have been bearable the first time, but six bloody times? Is this literally all you Goddamn bird are programmed to do? Is this game unimaginative or what?"

The bird considered for a moment. "You know, technically, this isn't a game. Sburb itself serves merely as a gateway and now that you are in the incipisphere-"

"Oh, wow, now you're doing your animal-wisdom spirit-guide thing. I mean I know you're a consort or whatever but there's no need to shove it down my throat. I'm not even playing this game! You know, sometimes it just feels like this whole situation was contrived by the world's least imaginitive genius. I mean the base concepts are cool I guess, but the way that everything has just been playing out is literally entirely stupid and non-sensical. It's like... it's like..."

"What? What, exactly, is it like?" The bird ruffled up its feathers, the image of pique.

"It's like badly written, inconsistent fanfiction!" Jack spouted the words, throwing his hands in the air in frustration.

"Now look here, Mister." The raven somehow managed to achieve a stern expression despite a lack of facial versatility. "Its all very well for you to go around insulting us, and all we stand for. At least we are meant to be here. You shouldn't even be in this session! You're presence here is one big accident! What good are you doing, wandering about making snide remarks. We're trying to create a new universe here!"

Jack stared at the bird for a moment, a quizical expression on his face.

"So that's what all this shit is about. Are you even meant to be telling you that? What happened to 'The Ultimate Riddle'?"

"Why the fuck should I care what you know?" The bird turned around and prepared to take flight. "You're not even meant to be here."

Raising its scraggly feathers, the bird caught a faint breeze and lifted of into the clouded sky.

"Well screw you too," called Jack as he halfheartedly took a few steps after the bird, "you lousy sack of scrap meat!"

"Hey, who are you calling scrap meat?"

Turning around, Jack saw another, seemingly identical bird perched on the branch of another tree, the black wooded branch still swaying ever so slightly from its landing.

"You!" Jack screamed indignantly at the raven, "all of you! I swear, you're all the same Goddamn bird anyway!"

The second raven shifted a little, looking slightly sorry for itself. "Oh."

"'Oh'? 'Oh' what?! What on Earth... the Medium... wherever the hell we are is it?!"

The raven cocked its head, looking at Jack quizically.

"Aren't you even a little surprised?"

"A little surprised about what?"

"Aren't you even a little surprised that I can speak?" The bird looked down, disappointedly.

"OH MY GOD. WILL YOU ALL JUST FLY THE HELL AWAY, AND LEAVE ME ALONE." Veins stood out from Jack's temples, eye twitching a little as he screamed at the bird.

"Hey now," said the bird in a vaguely reprimanding tone, "at least I'm supposed to be here."

"OH MY GOD. YOU ARE, LITERALLY, ALL THE SAME ANNOYING LITTLE SHIT." Jack took a step towards the offending avian, hands twitching slightly.

"You really need to watch your temper," chirped the bird, apparently unaware of its impending doom.

"SHUT. UP. JUST SHUT UP." Hands shaking, Jack stopped within a few feet of the raven, face red with fury.

"Actually, as a consort it is my duty to inform the heroes of- SQUAWK!" The raven let out a confused shriek as, with a snarl of fury, Jack snatched it from the branch and made a concerted effort to wring its neck through its slightly scraggly coating of feathers.

Topping a ridge, Trudy Travis, (that is to say, the real Trudy Travis), could not help but cry out at the brutality that that horrible looking man was exacting on that innocent pitch-black raven. How could anyone stand to witness such violence! Not Trudy Travis, that was for sure. She who had defeated all of her planet's underlings through kindness alone, and who radiated an aura of pure peace and happiness. Indeed, that was almost a literal manifestation of her mysterious powers; perhaps, sometimes, the curse had its uses. The disgraceful vagabond would surely get his comeuppance eventually, but for now Trudy could make sure that the bird would not come to any further harm.

Reaching down inside herself, she made contact with the strange forces contained within, dredging them up from the depths of her psyche and, fueling them with righteous anger and shaping them with her intent, hurled them at the figure known, coincidentally, as Jack Noir.

Jack's vision was suddenly obscured as he was wreathed in a bright light, every inch of his skin seeming to flare up and shine like a flame. Caught in a whirlwind of energy he felt the raven being torn from his hands as he was flung backwards through space, and, somehow, sideways outside of it. A voice seemed to fill his mind, a female voice, one of a young woman in considerable second-hand distress. Jack had one instant to wonder what was going on, another to consider how entirely stupid this was, and another to be deposited on the ground again, the mysterious voice fading, and wondering what the hell just happened.

Looking around himself, he realised that he was sitting in different section of the landscape. Different, that is, in that it looked exactly the same as everywhere else on this particular Skaiaforsaken rock; only being situated in a different location. The bird that he had previously been ringing the neck of was nowhere to be seen.

"Fantastic," he said to nobody in particular as he set to work picking himself up and dusting himself off. "Absolutely bloody fantastic. Now the little bastards can teleport people!"

"You know, you really shouldn't talk about people like that."

Twisting around, Jack turned to face four ravens looking down their beaks at him from the branch of a nearby tree. The fact that this is probably the only way that it is possible for a raven to look at you did nothing to alleviate his mood.

"And what the hell do you want?!" Jack spat his words at the birds, who continued to look at him interestedly.

"Did you know we could talk?" chirped up one of the birds at the end of the row, the others nodding eagerly.

"For the love of...!" The strangled words appeared to get caught in Jack's throat as one of his eyes started twitching uncontrollably. Closing both of them he counted silently to ten, and then opened them to reveal the birds still watching him expectantly.

"No. No, I did not know you could talk. It was very surprising when you spoke just then. I am really taken back and amazed well done. You guys should win a medal."

The birds exchanged pleased glances with eachother as Jack resigned himself to what was probably going to be a very long day.

Some miles to the North-East, the raven who had just narrowly escaped strangulation was picking itself up from the ground, feathers askew and for a small (but still all to large) minority missing altogether. Important questions raced through the mind of the now even-more-scrawny bird, such as "when's tea?" and "are we going to get some new trees soon?". As well as this, the bird idly considered why the unpleasant man had taken such unnecessary offence when it was being so helpful. It seemed awfully uncalled for. Possibly a consequence of just general human weirdness. The bird put it out of its mind, which was easy, because it was only ever half in its mind to begin with.

"Hey", it thought to itself, "who's that coming over that ridge there?"

The bird couldn't believe its sudden luck as a second human figure started to rapidly approach the place where it was still getting its feathers in order. Two humans, in one day! And this one might even be the prophecised hero of legend. Now that the rather rude man was gone perhaps it could surprise this one as well.

"Hey," it thought it itself, "where did that guy go anyway."

At that moment the raven caught a closer look at the approaching human and so was able to see the fading white aura that still shone faintly from around them. Something about it made the raven feel uncomfortable. Very uncomfortable. A feeling possibly arising from the very primitive part of it's avian mind that still urged it to fly away from anything new, strange, or possibly dangerous. Humans with mysterious auras of power were very high on this raven's list.

"My sweet bird!" The figure began to shout as it ran towards the raven. "Are you ok? Did that man hurt you? Let me nurse your wounds!"

"Hell no!" Squawked the bird, drawing up its wings and preparing for flight. "Get away from me, you freak!"

As the raven soared away, the still air failed to carry it the faint sound of angst ridden tears echoing from the shallow hollow that it had just departed.

Chapter 5.3 - Serum


Words echo in the void. The plain of infinity is focussed on this singular point, in this singular moment. Time does not exist. All of existence is two minds, and if one is but a misinformed perception of the other, then this does not matter. Nothing matters. All that matters is that Trudy is there, with him. She is all that matters; all that is. His own name does not matter, because he has no name. He does not exist in any facet other than his awareness of the other; the awareness of his imagined partner. Vmsdfx Rewoi, world renowned hacker, is gone; scooped away and replaced only by a tangled awareness that trembles in awe of the idea that it unknowingly sustains.

Something is wrong.

Light pierces darkness as the singularity of the two minds is broken, unravelled, spun out once more. Time restarts as thought begins to return, the trickle of consciousness coming slow at first before opening to a flood of sensation and emotion, the content of a mind reborn again from the abyss, expanding as a cognitive universe that yet wishes only to return to that initial state, to collapse back in on itself as existence crunches to a halt.

Or... is that right?

No... that can't be right. How can he want to be with Trudy? How can he want to be with somebody when he knows that they are not real?

That they do not exist...


The man who once again knew himself to be Vmsdfx Rewoi jerked himself awake from delusion, muscles snapping taught as sweat soaked the sleeves of his shirt, and let out a single, earth-shattering scream of horror.

"You are awake, I see."

Vmsdfx, still shaking with a mix of frailty and trauma, looked about himself confusedly as he came back to his right mind. Eyes still blurred, he made out searingly bright lights focussed seemingly on his face, and standing between them the upright figure of a man staring at him intently. The picture swam unclearly in his bleary vision, and yet it still somehow seemed wrong to him. True, the lights should not be on that brightly in the hospital ward, and yet that was not it...

Upright. Why was he upright?

He tried to move one of his arms to wipe away the water from his eyes, and discovered to his horror that it was bound in place. Quickly testing his other limbs, he found that they too were similarly restrained with what felt like metal bondings. They clinked slightly as he shook them. Like chains. He looked around in terror as his situation suddenly became clear. He was hung upright from chains that bound all of his limbs tightly extended from his body, sylladex seemingly having been emptied, in some unknown location that was most definitely not his hospital ward. Strung up at the mercy of whoever the figure who now stood in front of him was. The figure that was now speaking once more.

"If, that is, you ever were asleep. I'm not sure precisely what state your mind is in when you are all locked up in one of your delusions. I never did claim to be an expert on hallucination; that particular card is not in my hand ... But then, I did know that they tended to incapacitate you for quite some time. It seemed the best state in which to transport you, no drugs involved, and also strangely fitting. That your own mental deficiencies would be the cause of your downfall."

The figure chuckled to itself with a deep masculine timbre. Vmsdfx could see clearly enough now to make out the man's unusual suit, coloured black on one side and a light grey on the other, and embroidered in places with a complex pattern of lines and a repeated motif of card suits. Bright red strands ran down his dark, left sleeve to encircle a heart and diamond at his cuff; grey strands ran down his lighter right to encircle a spade and club in a matching design. What drew Vmsdfx's attention however was the contents of the man's hands, for in his right he held an elegantly shaped knife that was honed to be razor sharp. Perhaps more alarmingly, his left held a syringe apparently filled with some clear liquid.

"Of course, it will mean the downfall of your friends as well. You, Mr. Rewoi, are at the bottom of a very fragile house of cards, and when you are removed..." The man mimed plucking something from the air. "...Then all the rest will fall with you."

Vmsdfx opened his mouth to attempt speech, managing to produce only a hollow sort of wheeze. His throat felt very dry for some reason. Swallowing, and still looking down at the man's midrift, he tried again.

"Please... you have to..."

"And what, exactly, do I have to do?" The man's deep voice took on a slightly harder tone, and before he could react cold steel was pressing against Vmsdfx's throat, pricking his skin ever so slightly.

"I don't believe that I have to do anything, Mr. Rewoi. You see, I hold all of the cards now. In fact, I always have, no matter what you may think you know to the contrary. You, Travis. Trudy... No, not that Trudy. From before the game even begun I had the ace up my sleeve, and now that it's out in the open, I really can do whatever I wish."

The knife against his throat relaxed a little, enough to allow a few words to escape Vmsdfx's lips.

"Who... are you..."

Upon hearing the words the man broke out into a series of booming laughs that shook the blade against Vmsdfx's throat. A thin line of blood trickled down towards his collarbone.

"Ha ha ha... of course. How very rude of me! I have not yet introduced myself. My name is Reno Blight. You won't have heard of me. I had another name once, but it's the sort of name that should not really be made common knowledge. Not to you, at least. All you need to know about me is that I'm holding a full house while you're turning up nothing but junk. Mister Rewoi."

Vmsdfx shook with the effort of trying to lift his head up and away from the blade. His bones felt like they were made of jelly. The years of being bed ridden with sickness had not done much for his body strength, and the strain of the situation was proving to worsten an already poor situation. He fought to focus, to concentrate on what was important.

"Please..." he croaked, voice cracking in his throat, "Travis... was in danger... energy spike... I..."

"Oh, he most certainly was!" said Blight, casually twisting the knife so that it pushed upwards into Vmsdfx's throat. "I had a friend of mine drop in on him, and see to his entry item too for that matter. My ace in the hole, so to speak. A strange man; rather twisted, and a long way from home now. You may know him. In this dimension I believe he goes by the title of the Evil Father from the Dead Poet's Society."

Vmsdfx's eyes, sunken in his face as they were, widened. His head dropped a fraction lower for an instant and he was rewarded by a sharb stab of pain as the knife blade nicked his skin before he instinctively jerked it back up again.

"Im... impossible!" he gasped through the momentary pain, "the Evil Father... takes orders from nobody... except..." If it was possible, Vmsdfx's eyes widened even further.

"I did say," snarled Blight, "that I have been known by other names." The point of the knife pressed harder into Vmsdfx's throat. "You see only the face that I choose to place at the top of the deck."

The point of the knife forced Vmsdfx's head up on instinct, until he was finally staring the man in the face. A black spade and club were tattooed under the right eye, whilst a matching red heart and diamond decorated the other side of his face.

"Seigneur Français...!" cried Vmsdfx, horrified, "please... don't kill me!"

Blight looked him in the eye for a moment before withdrawing the knife with a flourish and casting it to the ground behind him.

"I'm not going to use this," said Blight, his voice returning to its deep calm with alarming suddenness. Vmsdfx slumped forward in his chains, panting heavily.

"Thank you... Seigneur-"

"CALL ME BLIGHT!" boomed the man, lurching forward and seizing Vmsdfx's jaw with his now freed right hand. "You... see... only... the... hand... that... I... choose... to... reveal!" he grunted, twisting his prisoner's head up to face his own, "and I haven't revealed anything yet, have I Mr. Rewoi?"

"No, of course not, Mr. Bl-"

"Shut up!" snapped Blight, cutting Vmsdfx off. "Now... I'm not going to use that," he spat, gesturing offhandedly at the knife on the ground, "however..." His left hand, bearing the syringe containing the clear liquid that Vmsdfx had almost forgotten about, raised itself ominously as the latter attempted to shy away from the needle point. "I have prepared... something special for you, Mr. Rewoi. And if you don't shut up, well... then we'll see how you take to it."

"No... no..." Vmsdfx moaned, straining to move away.

"What did I just say, Vmsdfx?" The hand lifted higher, the needle poised to plunge.

"NO!" screamed the hacker, shaking in his bonds.

"SHUT UP!" Blight shouted momentarily, visibly attempting to contain his anger. He continued at a lower tone, his voice still full of tension. "Did I not just tell you to shut up?"

Vmsdfx whimpered slightly, but managed to keep himself quiet as Blight towered over him.

"That's right, Mr. Rewoi, you do what I say now." The man grinned thinly. "Don't you see? You're finished. You, Travis, everyone. I hold all of the cards now. Now that Travis is stranded outside of the Medium, it simply remains impossible for you to continue. Your session is doomed." He spread his arms. "I have already won, Vmsdfx. Full house."

Reno's penetrating gaze bored into the top of Vmsdfx's head as the captive man hung slumped forward in his chains, unmoving.

"What's the matter, Vmsdfx? Finally learnt to keep quiet?" Blight stared down at the man suspended in front of him. "Look at the great Vmsdfx Rewoi, hacker extrodinaire and full time man-in-the-shadows, reduced to this."

Vmsdfx shook slightly in his bonds, shoulders heaving.

"That's right. Go ahead and-..." Blight got cut of suddenly as Vmsdfx raised his head, slowly and deliberately, staring at Blight and, quite clearly, laughing. Weak chuckles spilled from his lips as he shook from pulling in ragged breaths between peals. Blight took a step backwards in shock.

"...Is that... what you think...?" A demented grim alighted upon Vmsdfx's lips.

"What in the name of the Outer Gods are you blathering about?" For the first time, Blight seemed somewhat on the back foot.

"...Did you really think... that I would send Travis to break into the bank of England... armed only with a scanner, earmuffs and a few... sonic shockwave devices?" Vmsdfx wheezed through his laughter. "Haha... we had an alchemiser... are you that much of a fool..."

"WHAT ARE YOU TALKING ABOUT!" screamed Blight, lunging forward with his free hand and seizing Vmsdfx's hair by the roots, forcibly pulling the other man's face up to his own. The needle point shook somewhere close to the captive's neck. "SPEAK NOW OR YOU DIE, REWOI!"

"Haha..." Vmsdfx's humour continued seemingly unabated. "...field extension matrix... he had it in his pocket..."

Blight froze. His gaze locked on Vmsdfx. "What," he growled, "did you just say?"

If anything, Vmsdfx began to laugh harder. "We... we scanned the hole pattern... on the pre-punched card..." he wheezed as he continued, "...and entered it into a field extension matrix... that I had alchemised and sent him the code for... ha!"

Blight stared at him in dawning realisation and fury. He still did not move.

"...set up... an entity link..." continued Vmsdfx, "...used his scanner... to get a rough fix. ... As soon as the Father... destroyed his entry item... he would have been transported into the Medium... alongside his house." Still looking up at Blight, he smirked. "Do you fold?"

A muscle twitched in the other man's face, a sign of life in what was otherwise a stone mask. With his motionless body and powerful stature Blight looked somehow reminiscient of a lion about leap upon its prey. Conversely, Vmsdfx could see, the face had settled into an odd sort of calm. Closing his eyes, Blight breathed softly, a faint sigh coming from between his partially closed lips.

"Right." He breathed.

Opening his eyes once more, Blight started walking around Vmsdfx where he was chained upright, so that he began to pass out of the captive's field of vision. "Right," said the other man, a little more firmly this time as he reached up to grasp something to Vmsdfx's right and pull down hard.

Vmsdfx gasped as the chain binding his right arm jerked tight, yanking him upright as he was contorted into an unnatural shape by the strain on his limb. Tendons protested as Blight pulled harder on the chain, before attaching it to some sort of hook, metal links clattering against eachother. Vaguely, he was aware of the other man walking behind him with somewhat of a casual stroll, moving around to his left side. Yet another clatter of chains was the only prelude to an excruciating explosion of pain in his shoulders as his left harm was contorted in a similar manner, arms pulled tight as though Blight were attempting to rip him apart. Vmsdfx screamed.


Vmsdfx's head snapped sideways as Blight's fist smashed into his jaw with enough force to crack a few teeth, adding a new level to his fortress of pain. A small line of blood began to run down from his lip.


The second blow struck the side of his head just above the ear, snapping it the other way so fast that his neck clicked and obscuring his vision with a canopy of stars. Desipte the ringing that had begun in his ears, every word Blight spoke came through clear as the man bellowed at him.


Dimly Vmsdfx was aware of Blight glaring at him, eyes bulged and incensed. A low moaning seemed to be echoing around the inside of Vmsdfx's skull. It took him a few moments to realise that he was the one making the sound. It cut off abruptly as Vmsdfx let out a low whimper. "...stop...please..."

"BUT WORST OF ALL, REWOI-!..." Blight cut himself off, and straightened up. He shifted his head to one side, then the other, producing an audible clicking. Straightening his black and white tie, and making an effort to relax his posture, he continued; "Worst of all, Rewoi, you made me lose my temper, and that's a card I think that I would like to keep face down." He grinned, and just like that, was calm again.

"'re insane." Vmsdfx stated it as a fact. It was clearly true.

"Ha! You are one to talk, Vmsdfx. How's Trudy doing? Your Trudy, I mean." Blight smirked and leaned in closer. "Now, look here," he continued in a low, sinister whisper, "we'll see who's laughing once I have destroyed your friends and nullified your session once and for all. But one thing is for certain. You are never going to humiliate me like that again, Vmsdfx." He said the last word with a savour.

Face still contorted in pain from the chains that were stretching his arms to breaking, Vmsdfx spat at him.

Blight straightened up and calmly retrieved a grey handkerchief from his suit pocket, which he used to wipe away the spittle before returning it to its pocket. "I'm good at cleaning up mess, Vmsdfx," he stated casually, with a slight grin.

"...screw you..." returned Vmsdfx.

"Do I hear you talking?" Blight bent down again, and raised the hand holding the syringe. "Didn't we talk about what would happen if you didn't shut up?"

Vmsdfx barked a short laugh, before answering in a hoarse whisper. "Ha! ...go on then... kill me. I've already thwarted you, Reno Blight... My friends... Travis is safe for now... and that's all that matters..."

"Are you really deluded enough to think them safe? They are a house of cards just waiting to fall, and..." Blight leaned in even closer, until Vmsdfx could feel his breath damp on his cheek. He tried to shy away, but the chains bound him in place. "...this won't kill you, Rewoi," he whispered with an icy malice. "First you will go very still for a long while. Then there will be pain. A lot of pain. And then..." he paused for effect, "...then you will do exactly as I say." He straightened up, and began to laugh darkly, deep booming chuckles echoing from his chest. "How does it feel to know that you will be the one to kill your friends, Rewoi? How will it feel to be one more card under my thumb?"

Vmsdfx's skin turned to ice. "No... no please..." His whispered plea petered out.

"Didn't I tell you to shut up, Rewoi? You might have saved yourself from this." Blight raised the syringe.

Vmsdfx sealed his lips as tightly as they would go. Still straining in the bonds, he looked up frantically, pleadingly, at Blight's face.

"Too late," said Blight, plunging the syringe into the base of Vmsdfx's neck.

Before he blacked out, the last thing that Vmsdfx Rewoi heard was Reno Blight's maniacal laughter.

Chapter 5.4 - Blastwave

Let us now go forward a little. And, perhaps, sideways.

There was, or, perhaps, will be, a small island of a habitable system floating within the depths of the Furthest Ring. The island, which would perhaps be better referred to as a bubble, because this is in fact what it was (the past tense used here merely as a matter of conveience). No, in fact, this is not true either, because this particular bubble was in fact in instance of the Incipisphere, and spherical as this may be in shape it cannot truly said to be a bubble. Indeed, the use of the word depths is also question, for two reasons; both because the Furthest Ring, by its very nature, cannot have depths in the same manner that it cannot have edges, and secondly due to the fact that the Furthest Ring in which it resided was merely a doomed echo of the original, serving as a backdrop for the demise of this unfortunately prolonged timeline.

Within this island of a system, a number of rocky objects were rotating at a fairly constant rate around an object at the centre, as they had done for countless ages. Unlike the countless ages before a time not-so-long-ago, however, the rocky objects seemed somewhat plain; even deformed. No longer were they bathed in the light of Skaia shining out from the centre of the Incipisphere, for Skaia itself had gone dark; thick grey clouds only let a few dim shadows escape to die in the void alongside everything else. If you were to examine one of the rocky objects, then you might find its deep black soil pockmarked with craters, the occasional patch of lighter dust indicating where the the corpse of a raven had once lain before it too was reduced to dust.

There were, in fact, no living organisms on any of the rocky objects, bar two. Both of these two rocky objects had a total of one living organism on its surface - assuming, that is, that the various bacterial parasites of these two beings were disregarded. One of these beings we shall perhaps get to later, notwithstanding the fact that we have already met him, for he is a very important character. The other, however, we have not met, and so shall address immediately.

The rocky object upon which this second being dwelt had been tentatively named Eden before its utter destruction, and the two organisms maintained this name - one out of bitter scorn and sarcasm, the other in memory of its loss. This was not its true name, and nor was the organism in question its rightful occupant. Indeed, the presense of this organism upon Eden went against all the laws of probability, physics, logic, and indeed common sense. In fact, his presence could be seen as so unexpected that in order to fully describe it an entire new set of laws - preferably sufficiently convoluted to fit the purpose - would have to have been created and then broken almost immediately to convey the outlandishness of his act of being who and where he was at this particular point in time and in the continuum of higher probabilistic dimensions.

But Blasto, the First Hanar Spectre, was there - and he was going to save the universe.

"This one would request that you prepare the vortex manipulation module," ennunciated Blasto into the device strapped to his tentacle, "and perform the calculations required for the jump."

"Command recieved and understood, Blasto. Preparations underway."

The voice coming from the device did not belong to the second organism, not merely because he was entirely at odds with Blasto's cause. Instead, the voice was that the sentient A.I. that lived within the small device, which served as a combination personal computer and time machine. The words that passed between the two beings were well rehearsed, this day anticipated far in advance, and as such the words themselves were more of a ritual than anything else. They said them nonetheless, however, both for the comfort of familiarity and because each recognised that this was not the time to be straying from procedure.

"This one would like to request the current spacial/temporal coordinates, and furthermore the target spacial/temporal coordinates."

"Current spacial/temporal coordinates," replied the A.I. obediently, "are 60009.88, 22022.45, 105.72, Land of Fruit and Forbiddenness, the Medium, Universe PN_06B Incipisphere at [UNKNOWN] HRS on Timeline 667. Target spacial/temporal coordinates are 60009.88, 22022.45, 105.72, Land of Fruit and Forbiddenness, the Medium, Universe PN_06B Incipisphere at [UNKNOWN]-9912 HRS on Timeline ALPHA."

"This one would like to request pre-jump system checks be executed," continued Blasto, following the script to the letter.

"Executing pre-jump system checks," said the A.I., a note of excitement touching its synthesized voice, "all electronics are green. Area clearence is green. Spacetime origin fix is green. Spacetime roaming fix is green. Temporal vortex coherency is orange. Power supply is-"

"Hold on," intejected Blasto, cutting the machine off, "this one would like to query as to why the temporal vortex coherency isn't green."

"Oh, that?" replied the A.I. with a tinge of surprise. "Don't worry about that. It's always orange."

"Right," said Blasto, nonplussed, "in that case, this one requests that you might continue."

"Power supply is green," the machine continued primly, "phase interference levels are green. Storm tides are green. We are within acceptable bounds for the jump. Are you ready to proceed?"

Briefly checking that his sylladex was full, and that the various weapons held in his various appendages were still secure, the Hanar glowed briefly in the equivalent of a nod of agreement.

"My pistol is fully charged," he quipped at his companion, "this one requests that we initiate the jump and kick some booty."

"Hell yeah," replied the A.I., straying from the script entirely before flipping opening the internal energy couplings and bathing the vortex manipulator in plasma. In a burst of brilliant red light, both Blasto and the device, still attached to his tentacle, disappeared completely.

From Blasto's point of view, of course, something different happened entirely. With a flash of red light and a sickening jolt, reality seemed to lurch forwards, propelling him backwards out of it entirely. Furious tidal currents pried at his tentacles as he was thrown back and forth on a storm of furious energy, a temporal maelstrom that seemed want nothing other than to rip him apart. Light cascaded through the roiling clouds of spacetime, shining red and blue and green as it struck the disorientated Hanar's occular sensors. Frantically he reached out with his fields, grasping at his on body in an attempt to stabilise himself as he travelled through the riptides.

Skies of Skaia, he hated time-jumps.

Heroes of Time, choosen by Skaia from their ectobiological birth, have always had it somewhat easy on the time-travel front. Through the use of their alchemisers or simply through use of their own abilities as they climbed the echeladder, they had been granted by the will of the universe almost instant access to entirely perfected time travel technology. Instilled with pure temporal energy, they could jump about the timeline at will with an almost instantaneous travel period - certainly with no cartwheeling around as their path took them through who knew how many higher dimentions.

Societies that developed time travel on their own, however, rarely took such a direct route in the development of the technology. Early devices were chaotic and unrealiable at best, and quite often the circuitous routes through paradox space that they opened took weeks to navigate. Few, if any, ever perfected their technology to the level of that which Skaia so willingly offered up, and Blasto had not been so blessed as to find one that had. The alien world from which he had stolen the device had thankfully managed to get the transit time to as low as just a few standard minutes, but unfortunately the short journey through the vortex was still a mandatory requirement. Such excursions were not stricly speaking dangerous, assuming that the plotted computer had got its calculations right. But sometimes that was a very large assumption.

Unheard over the roar of the energy cascade, Blasto's vocal outlets produced a low groan.

Suddenly, the chaotic fluctuations of light and sound and matter which twisted around Blasto in every direction rearranged themselves into some semblance of order. A tunnel seemed to open up in front of him, walled by twisting clouds glowing with light and shadows speckled with lightning. It seemed to rotate around him, like looking up through the eye of a furious tornado. It was impossible to tell how far away the walls were - for all Blasto new, they could be a few metres distant or hundreds of light years. Either way it did not matter, as Blasto was sucked towards the centre of the vortex, caught in a slipstream that pulled him along through it at what he somehow knew was astonishing speed.

It was at times like this that Blasto begrudged humanoid lifeforms the ability to close their eyes. The impossible journey into the gaping void was more than a little dizzying, as the Hanar's albeit powerful mind attempted to grasp the incomprehensible infinity that was the temporal storm. The clouds - a term which is best used loosely to describe the curling tendrils of light, spiraled and sparked around him, crackling with bolts of energy like lightning.

Even the A.I. had the option of switching its sensors off for this.

Blasto suddenly realised that the device was vibrating wildly against his tentacle, buzzing in an attempt to get his attention. Whatever it was saying was swallowed by the howling of the vortex around them. He wondered could possibly be so important to say to him during the course of a temporal jump.

A high pitched whining seemed to have started eminating somewhere in front of him. Looking up; forward, Blasto saw that not too far ahead relative to his current apparent pace, the tunnel of light ballooned up to more that twice its current width. More tunnels, smaller. seemed to branch off from it, the one he was currently in being one of the smaller branches. This, however, did not immediately concern him as much as did the swirling patterns of light surrounding the junction, one of which he appeared to be heading directly into.

The A.I. buzzed at him again, ever more frantically. Swiftly pulling up his tentacle, he placed the device near his auditory sensor to attempt to make out what it was saying.

"...TURBULENCE FROM THE DIVERGENCE NEXUS!" screamed the A.I. tinnily through its speaker, "I DID NOT FORSEE... DID NOT TAKE IT INTO ACCOUNT!"

"Oh," thought Blasto. "Oh dear." The voice of one of his instructors seemed to echo back to him from the past, which, considering his current location, it may well have been. "During a temporal jump," had said the Orator for Temporal Mechanics, "all factors must be accounted for pre-jump. Otherwise, all aspects of the journey are forfeit to chaotic events and the outcome cannot be assured."


"This one," replied Blasto, "has a good idea."

And then they hit the storm.

The flow fluctuation hit them from the side, throwing Blasto sideways with a jolt as he entered the cloud, light tangling around him. Before he could get his bearings, he was buffetted once more, thrown away to one side with all sense of direction lost. Sparks arched past his body searing him with heat as he tumbled towards... something, a huge, swirling, chaotic mass that pulled him in through the currents of timespace. Blasto clutched at the device on his tentacle, shaking the computer that contained the A.I.

"Do something!"

It remained unresponsive, apparently not wanting to contemplate its approaching demise.


A light flickered on the device as it turned itself on briefly. "Well, what do you expect me to do?!" it shrieked above the howling, "I can't alter the jump path post entry and you know that!"

"You're a computer. This one wonders whether you might not be able to calculate some sort of viable strategy!"

"Here's a strategy!" spat the A.I., "you're the one with the fields! Maneuver us the hell out of here!" The light winked off as the device deactivated.

"Curse you and damn your circuits forever!" Blasto shouted at the silent computer.

Another crossflow pulled at Blasto's tentacles, buffeting him to and fro as spots of colour danced across his field of vision. Always, however, he was aware of his gradual movement towards the centre of the vortex as it sucked him in, as if the cue of fate had knocked him into a hole in the green fabric of reality, unable to escape obliteration.

Images seemed to dance in the corner of his occular sensors. Strange scenes seemed to appear amongst the arcing streams of light; stars, clouds, trees...


A vividly green landscape covered in dense foliage, laden with various exotic fruits in a slew of bright colours. A scene shocking familiar from long hours of research and preparation. It took Blasto only a few seconds to realise that the images were not some trick of his mind, and only a few more to realise what this must mean.

The vortex was pulling him in, away from the dancing sparks and arching light. He had to act now.

"This one REALLY HATES TIME TRAVEL!" screamed Blasto, seizing himself with his fields and, trusting to one part his training in temporal mechnics, one part physics and ninety eight parts blind luck, hurled himself towards the nearest patch of lights.

A lot of things seemed to happen at once. With a jolt, Blasto was hurled away from the centre of the vortex. The patch of light seemed to balloon to a disproportionately large size in Blasto's vision, flickering with an even greater intensity. Then suddenly, an image seemed to form in front of him, one similar to that same landscape that he had glimpsed before. Trees extended for miles in front of him in blazing sunlight; an icy peak in the distance seemed strangely out of place in what looked like the middle of Summer. Before he could consider this any more, however, a current caught him and propelled him forwards, directly into the image. He shot out into midair, spent a few confusing seconds crashing through foliage before landing in a heap of tentacles and various pieces of attached equipment on grass that was wet with dew. A number of heavy thumps sounded around as various large gourd-like objects fell from the trees that had broken his fall.

Still slightly dazed, and amazed by his apparent escape, Blasto tentatively lifted himself from the ground with his fields, straightening his tangled tentacles. Only then his he become aware of bright blue-gold tinged light that was refracting through their translucent flesh. Looking up, he found himself staring up into the majesty of Skaia, shining brighter than the noonday sun.

"We... we appear to have made it!" stuttered Blasto, still gaping in disbelief.

"Wait, what?" The A.I. had flicked itself on again. "We actually survived?"

"Yes," said Blasto, still gazing Skaiaward, "this one appears to have saved us. It pulled us through-"

"-a rapids rift!" finished the A.I. excitedly, "You pulled us out through the temporal foam from the divergence turbulence." It seemed to consider briefly. "How did you know it wouldn't dump us out in the middle of the furthest ring?"

"I didn't," stated Blasto.

"Skaia above," buzzed the device, a note of delayed shock in its voice, "by my calculations, the chances of us ending up anywhere habitable at all were... four hundred and thirteen thousand, six hundred and twelve to one! That was incredibly rash, you could have-"

"This one believes that he just saved our lives," hissed Blasto, "Perhaps you should shut off your speaker and go back to acting like the personal servant you're meant to be, machine."

"Ok, ok, point taken. I am very grateful, oh great and glorious Master."

"Shut up."

"Fine, fine. I suppose it doesn't matter seeing as we thankfully did end up somewhere habitable. Where are we anyway?"

"This one suggests that you look up," answered the Hanar, his occular sensors still aimed in that direction.

The A.I. turned its sensors upwards, and let out the mechanical equivalent of a gasp. As it turned out, this was a jarring sort of crunching noise.

"Oh my," it said, "there's only one object in the Medium that orbits this close to Skaia. Other than Prospit, that is."

"The Land of Fruit and Forbiddeness," finished Blasto, "and if Skaia is still clear of clouds then this one believes that we must be-"

"-somewhere significantly closer to the start of the timeline," the A.I. concluded.

"And, this one queries, which timeline is that?"

The computer buzzed for a few moments, before letting out another mechanical gasp. This one sounded more like an odd sort of high pitched squeak; like a dog chew being sat on.

"This... this is the Alpha..." it said with a tone of definite awe, "60123.43, 22025.41, 101.03, Land of Fruit and Forbiddenness, the Medium, Universe PN_06B Incipisphere at [UNKNOWN]-9621 HRS on Timeline ALPHA. We're off by a few miles and a week or so, but your crazy suicide leap into the rift pinged us almost directly to our destination. I'm not even going to try to calculate the chances of that!"

Blasto stiffened, holding himself more rigidly upright. "Then the mission is not yet lost! But if we our timing is off then we cannot delay. This one requests an inventory on our equipment."

The device buzzed, reading the contents of Blasto's sylladex and scanning external items that Blasto had managed to hold onto during the time jump.

"Our equipment is largely intact," it recited promptly, "minus one (1) wide beam laser cannon, [lost during the jump], two (2) minor explosive charges [lost during the jump], one (1) multipurpose laser cutter [circuits damaged by radiation during the jump] and one (1) plasma pistol [circuits damaged by radiation during the jump]. Additionally-"

The A.I. cut off abruptly and Blasto whirled around as they both heard the noise in the bushes at the same time. At the speed of light, the A.I. projected its scanning ray into the foliage, bathing it in soft blue light.

"Life form detected!" it squeaked.

Approximately three minutes previously, Conroy Deux, Agent of Derse, had been most distressed when the tranquil atmosphere of Eden had been rent asunder by something that sounded similar to a small explosion, followed shortly by a the sound of cracking wood, almost as if something were falling through the branches of the trees from above. In all his time visiting Eden - something he was wont to do were his boss not being particularly demanding - he had never heard anything which sounded even remotely similar. Despite all his knowledge of the workings of the game; for Conroy Deux, unlike the previously encountered Jack Noir, was indeed a game construct, he was unable to account for such an unprecedented disturbance.

Something was wrong. This merited investigation.

Setting off in the direction of the noise, Conroy withdrew his umbrella from his weapons inventory. In the past, he had been scorned for wielding an umbrella as a weapon. That was before, on his first trip to Eden, he had discovered this razor-edged model in the planetoid's single building. It had proved itself to be deadly on a number of occasions since, and his fellow agents had soon learnt not to mess with Conroy Deux - unless of course afformentioned meddling was conducted in a spirit of friendly comradery. ...Or if they bought him a new silly hat afterwards. In fact, nine times out of ten it was this that ended up happening, as it was a neat arrangement that served everybody's best interests, i.e., Conroy's love of extravagent hats, almost as strong as his boss' hatred for them, and everybody's love of messing with Deux, something he was forced to admit he was actually more ambivalent towards than anything else. Any time anybody felt like messing about they would simply get Noir to foot the ridiculous headwear bill, thus appeasing Conroy and keeping everybody happy except for the unlucky souls who were forced to keep manufacturing new hats for the populus of Derse's administration.

The sound of voices up ahead snapped Conroy out of his reverie. Suddenly he realised that his contemplation of hats had entirely distracted him from the matter at hand. Berating himself for such ridiculous (and yet so appealing) folly, he moved forwards to eavesdrop on the voices from behind a bush as the eminated from a small clearing up ahead. One of the voices was higher and slightly tinny, whereas the other had an odd sort of echoing, ethereal quality to it. These voices too were something of a novelty on Eden, whose snake-like consorts had more of a rasping, hissing quality than anything else. Besides, thought Conroy, all those guys ever talk about is convincing people to eat that fruit of theirs, not timelines or alphas or whatever the heck these people are talking about. In order for the investigation to continue, he decided, he would have to work out who these mysterious visitors were, and what exactly they were about. The best way to do this, he also decided, would be to get a decent look at them.

Carefully, making sure to remain as quiet as possible, Conroy edged closer to the clearing through the bushes, straining to catch sight of the two strangers. Silently pushing a branch that had been obscuring his view out of the way, he suddenly gained a complete view of the interior of the clearing, and stopped moving with a mixture of shock and bemusement. He speculated whether this might be his colleagues messing with him again, but dismissed the idea because they lacked even nearly enough imagination. He then contemplated the idea that he might be hallucenating, but quickly decided that if this were the case, he might as well just go along with it anyway. None of it really changed the fact that, in front of him, he was apparently seeing a floating jellyfish talking to a small metal box strapped to its tentacle, surrounded by what looked like guns and-

Conroy let out a small squeak despite himself. The fruit! They had touched the fruit! It was lying all around them where they had evidently knocked it down from the trees surrounding the clearing. Idiotic jellyfish! Stupid stupid dumb. Didn't it know that touching the fruit was an instant death sentence? How dumb did you have to be not to know that?

A faint voice at the back of Conroy's head wondered whether this might only be if you actually ate the fruit, but he ignored it as he was far too busy throwing a fit of righteous fury. Brandishing his razor umbrella and shouting a small war cry, he charged out of the bushes and straight towards the jellyfish.

Blasto jumped back in surprise - that is to say, he floated backwards rapidly in surprise - as the small black-skinned creature dressed in an improbably tall and colourful hat and waving something long and sharp looking charged out of the bushes screaming at the top of its lungs. He regained his senses just long enough to dart out the way as the razor sharp edges of the weapon - which now seemed to have deployed itself into a roughly circular configuration - sliced past where his tentacles had been just second before. In a rapid motion fuelled by the close proximity to danger and honed by many sweeps of training he grasped one of the weapons lying on the ground with his fields, snapped it upwards into his grip and fired in a single motion.

One area in which Blasto was regarded with some reknown was his marksmanship, and indeed he had been the pride of the academy. His ability to hit a rapidly moving target accurately was something that he himself was rather proud of, but no amount of experience or skill could have enabled him to predict the consequences of the creature's unadvised charge. At the very moment that Blasto pulled the trigger, the short figure tripped over one of the fruits lying on the ground, almost impaling itself on its own weapon. Meanwhile, the plasma shot that Blasto's weapon released sailed straight over the creature's head and burnt straight through the trunk of a tree behind it. Quickly re-aiming, Blasto fired again, but the creature had already got to its feet and was twirling the blades of its weapon around in front of it. Apparently, they were made of stronger stuff than they looked, because the plasma shot rebounded straight off them and shot away to the side, searing another burn in one of the surrounding tree's trunks.

Blasto paused for a second, noticing that the plasma shots seemed to be leaving an unusually large number of sparks in their wake. Some of them even seemed to be sticking around for a while, flashing in the air for a number of seconds after the bolt had passed.

"We're still within the domain of the turbulence from the temporal divergence," chirped the A.I. who had presumably noticed the sparks as well. "The timeline is volatile here. The energy discharge from the plasma blast is distorting its fabric, and the effect is probably exaccerbated by the weapon's recent trip through the vortex. We want to avoid firing off anything too powerful and opening a ri- LOOK OUT!"

The creature was charging towards Blasto once again, blades of its outlandish weapon whirling. Blasto fired off another plamsa shot but it was once again deflected. Thinking quickly, he flipped himself upwards using all the strength that he could muster with his fields. He soared over the top of the charging creature, landing behind it. His blaster jerked oddly where it was grasped in his tentacle. Looking down at it, he saw a long gash had be rent through the composite metal, the contents of the energy cell draining rapidly where the creature's blades had torn through it in their chance contact with Blasto's weapon. Tossing the blaster aside, he drew up another, larger weapon into his grip. The plasma cannon felt reassuring clasped in his tentacle. He turned around and-


A shockwave struck Blasto, throwing him backwards as an awful screeching filled the air. It was a noise so loud it seemed to transcend noise entirely, becoming more of a horrible vibrating thrum that shook him from his body to the tips of his tentacles. His audial membranes threatened to burst from the onslaught, and he hurriedly sealed them with his fields. The weapon shook wildly in his grip, firing off an unintended shot at a low angle to the horizon that punched through the tree canopy to streak off across the landscape. Blasto felt the kickback but no noise reached him over the seemingly unending wailing that somehow managed to penetrate even through to his protected membranes. Blasto fell to the ground, the plasma cannon slipping from his grasp.

Then, as suddenly as it had begun, the sound ceased.

Weakly, Blasto began to lift himself up and survey the scene. The small black creature, which he now recognised as a Dersite Carapacian, was lying on the ground, unmoving. Behind it, he could just make out the humanoid figure approaching from behind it, silently slipping something back into a bag it wore over its shoulder.

Travis approached the creature warily, slipping the ear protectors back into his rucksack. He had not previously encountered such a creature as this; despite its similarity to a jellyfish in appearence it was quite obviously nothing of the sort, but the Discworlds had taught Travis to be prepared for encounters with any number of strange beings that must inhabit a world such as this. Already it was getting back up; it seemed to be surprisingly resiliant to the sonic decimators, and the weapons that it had been using to fight with had convinced Travis of its intelligence. Intelligence, however, Travis did not see any valid reason for it to be murdering the poor Dersite whom had obviously been pitifully outgunned. It was not the sort of situation that Travis typically just stood by and allowed to continue.

The creature had lifted itself erect, now, supported by nothing that Travis could see and with its many tentacles hanging beneath it. To one of them was still strapped the small metal device that Travis could have sworn was talking earlier. It was most definitely silent now. Perhaps the sonic blast had disabled it. Travis wondered whether the device somehow enabled the creature to talk.

This suspicion was put to rest as the creature began to speak of its own accord, its echoing voice resonating in the air despite no visible mouth.

"It's... it's you," said the voice.

"It's who?" said Travis, slightly taken aback.

"Are you not Travis Trudy?" it continued intently, "are you not one of the heroes of this session?"

"That... that would be me," replied Travis cautiously.

"This one come back to warn you, and to help you stop him. This one must warn you of the danger!" The creature shifted forward towards Travis, almost as if it were scrutinising him. It's echoing voice was insistent as it spoke to him.

"Come back from where?" Travis asked the obvious next question. "And what danger? Who are you?"

"This one is am Blasto, the First Hanar Spectre," announced the creature, "It has come back from the future, the alternate, doomed future! If we don't stop him, Seigneur Français is going to destroy not only this session, but the entire universe!"

High up above the surface of the planetoid named the Land of Fruit and Forbiddenness, that which had been tentatively named Eden by its now unconscious Carapacian patron, a streak of plasma tore through the sky, leaving a sparking trail of sparks that seemed to tear through the air in its wake. It had had several miles to build upon its already considerable energy and momentum, as in his haste to retrieve the weapon Blasto had failed to notice that it had been primed to its highest energy setting. As such, beam released as a consequence of his unintended shot shone like a small star as it streaked across the sky above Skaia-baked forests, huge rolling fields, and continued on towards the mountains in the far distance. As it spanned this distance, moving at the incredible speeds that plasma projectiles tend to be able to travel at, the volatile fabris of turbulent spacetime warped and ruptured behind it, opening temporary rifts into the vortex.

The ball of energy began to stray into one of the Land's cooler regions as it drew closer to the mountains, the landscape below subject to Eden's abruptly variable climate. Small drifts of snow collected around the bases of tall evergreens - yet even these still bore the forbidden fruit. Snow, or, more accurately, sleet, was indeed falling from a suddenly clouded sky, but that which strayed close to the streak of plasma was sucked into one of the void holes that trailed behind it if it were not melted instantly. Slowly, the peaks of the mountains grew closer, and it grew more apparent that the path of the projectile would intersect the highest just below its apex. The mountains shone as the brightly glowing ball shot between the first few peaks, light glinting off snow and dancing upon the surface of ice that nestled between the peaks. One who followed the path of the glacier upwards would have seen it twist and turn in the valleys beneath the mountains, slowly climbing to its birthplace in its corrie, just below the highest spur of rock.

The bolt of plasma struck the glacier at this very point of conception and exploded. For an instant, a new star bloomed atop the mountian like a painfully bright, infinitely improbably crown. Thousands if not millions of native glacier bats were instantly cooked by the massive outpouring of radiation as it shone through the ice, streaming into the crevices within which they nested. The glacier itself, so seemingly solid and long locked on its downward course, would surely have melted were moment long enough to allow the heat to have any real effect on the pack ice, but this was not to be, for at the moment that the plasma ball exploded the volatile fabric of spacetime tore itself assunder, opening a rift directly into the temporal vortex as the dissociation already introduced by Blasto and the A.I.'s mishap-strewn time jump combined with the pre-existing volatility brought on by the divergence turbulence that the jump could only have worsened.

The entirety of the glacier's upper course was swalled whole, taking the remaining bats with it and leaving the landscape of the mountain face looking strangely empty for another few thousand years.

The mass of ice, clumping together and re-freezing as a solid mass after that original burst of heat was thrown through the vortex, tossing and turning through the tides of spacetime. This was no calculated jump, and the improbability of its emergence so close to its entry point on the timeline could be seen remarkable, only straying backwards a month or so. However, the rational minded might point out that it was equally unlikely, if not slightly less so than any other point on the timeline. The accuracy of this does not matter.

The short distance of travel can unfortunately not be said to be true of the glacial mass' spacial location, for during transit, it shot out of the Incipisphere's strand of the vortex entirely. Careering through extradimensional space and through some miracle maintaining structural coherency it eventually found itself back in the strands governed by the main universe, its angle of entry steering its course towards the central crucible itself - the source of the Sburban genesis that was the focus of this time period. Flying through a turbulence rift it emerged into real space in the upper atmosphere of planet Earth, locked on a collision course with the Western United States below. Thankfully the point of impact was largely uninhabited, but there were still a multitude of human deaths as the glacier ploughed into Montana at high speed, not to mention the mortality rate for local wildlife. The disaster dominated the news for several weeks afterwards, scientist unable to explain the origin of the icy mass, before the world became somewhat distracted by the onset of the meteors born of the Reckoning. After that, of course, it became rather difficult for them to talk about anything.

On account of them all being dead.

Chapter 6 - another boring chapter of total confusion

By  Olopi

Trudy Travis - this miamiese girl, a beautiful albino, was just chatting with her friends, Travis and Vmsdfx.

Travis, probably world's biggest otaku was just telling them, how GREAT, AWESOME; PERFECT, BORING, his favourite anime was, when suddenly...

...Nothing happened. Did you really expect anything? Really? Okay then, why not?

Vmsdfx just told them, his friend, who was, COMPLETELY coincedantally also called Trudy Travis arrived. This guy sure was creepy, always talking about  his friend.

Travis and Trudy knew he was in a hospital, over at Detroid, but that's about it....  And he was pretty creepy.

Then Trudy heard something from outside her room. It was a sound, sounding ... steamy? ... AH whatever, elt's just continue.

It was a fine chap, wearing clothing made out of metal and gears. "Blast! I hope this is the bloody right time." . He started looking around.

"Jolly good show". I think this is the bloody right time."

He turns around, facing Trudy "Ma'am, allow me to introduce myself. I'm called Alex Alexson."


Since this now would go onto a big conversation, and the author is really bad at this british slang, we'll just skip this, okay? No? Well, sucks to be you, I HAVE ALL THE POWER.

Well, anyways. Our steampunky friend and our albino-firend now introduce each other and talk a while, which is to say PRETTY 'EFFING BORING. Thus, we'll just skip ahead to the next point where something happens...


Now, that they both introduced  each other, Alex told Trudy about some "Event", that totally destroys the future.

Trudy knew that  this would most likely be because of her mysterious powers, which she can't control but always show up. She really HATES them.

Then, two lights appeared. SOme guy, dressed up androgynous stepped out of one of the lights.

"What? What is this? This is creepy. I want back home. NOW!"

Another person stepped out. Or rolled out, since  this  person was lying on a hospital bed. A pretty big hospital bed. This guy had a goatee.

"Wait? WHere's Trudy? Trudy? Help!"

It was clear to Trudy, that  this person on the hospital bed was Vmsdfx. So this other guy would most likely be Travis.

Trudy blushed. Her powers  transported these people here, and now they were stuck here at her home, Homestuck if you want to be so.

Then suddenly....

...No really, this time something happens. 100%. I bet my .... toast on it. What? You say I can't bet a Toast? Of course I can, I'm the Author.


A big, blue Mummy, wearing a, flashy, pink bathing robe appeared.


This ....thing blinked a few times, and suddenly everyone but Trudy fell to the ground, most likely dead. Trudy on the other hand, was save.

There was a big, blue bubble surrounding her, created by her MYSTERIOUS POWERS.  It saved her, from dieng by some wierd thingy, speaking french.

It creeps her out, sh just had all of her friends die. SHe tries to run away, but is stuck in place. She doesn't know what to do, so she just cries. Noone can hear her.

This bubble keeps everything outside, everything inside.


A giant Flatscreen appears in front of Trudy, showing some wierd horned fella. Wait, are there even any horns on that guy? A yeah, there. You'd need a microscope just to see them, what is this? Buuut....Let's just continue, eh?

Trudy knew, this was a troll. Of course, there's no way she could know this, but so the AUthor doesn't have to explain all the troll biology, she just knows.  Because screw the readers, that's why.


Suddenly the TV shows someone else, a girl. Extremely pretty. "I'm noot pretty!" Some voice from wherever it is says.


Some MYSTERIOUS guy appears, behind this girl. He pulls out a .... playing card? What? Is everybody here too much of a coolkid to use some real weapons? Like maybe a sword, or a bow, or a club, or heck, even a chainsaw. But no, everyone has to use some fancy stuff that probably hurts noone.

This guy just smacks the card into this girls back, which cuases her to fall over and die. WHAT? Oh c'mon. Now we have some cheating guys in here? How was he able to kill her? This is bullshit. earch a new author. ....



Just kidding, let's move on.


This other guy, with the  next to nonexistent orns comes up.

"S r. You just K lled her.  Bel eve you are the one who k lled Er dan Ampora. For that, you shall d e!

He walks up to  him and headbutts him.   See? Finally someone that knows how to fight. Atleast he would if his hrns wouldn't be so friggin tiny.

The other guy  just dies, and when he hits the ground Trudy sees some tiny stabwounds right in his chest.   OKAY. Wait a sec. He died from THAT? Who was that guy? Dying from that shoudln't even be possible. It's like dying from laughing off some FanFiction.

Then, the  Girl uses her psychic powers to create some meteors, which smash Mr. Mysterious, killing him.    Wait, what?


Trudy just stands there, watching. This really freaks her out, watching a total of .... 6 or so people die.

It really freaks her out. It really freaks her out. DO YOU FEEL HOW MUCH IT FREAKS HER OUT? No? Well, you shoudln't, would be a bit crazy, wouldn't it?

Trudy grabs a gun, that was conviniently floating around inside this bubble, when she suddenly feels her powers activating again.


[Insert sounds of pain here]

Then, there's a big, pink ....jellyfish? standing in front of her. It's holding a gun with one of its tentacles, the others are on the ground.  

"Trudy. I'm Blasto, first Hanar Spectre. Remember : Pimps don't commit suicide. "

...Since this is getting a bit to 'effed up, why don't we see what someone else is doing? Like... ah, here it is.

There's a DeLorean, a big phone bothwith TimeTravel powers floating somewhere, IN THE VOID. Sitting inside it - two people.

A Troll, and one of them....

Troll Bruce Campell,  star of Troll Army of Darkness, aswell as Andrew Hussie. Trying to sabotague reality, they are sitting there, discussing important facts.

"No, look. Salad Philosophy clearly means finding the reason why we exist, and how it translats into salad."

-"Nonono. It learly is the way of finding the perfect salad. The perfect mix, the harbringer of Tastyness. "

"No. That makes no sense at all. Why would you even think about that?"

Suddenly, someone, who clearly isn't the Author shouts:


Then, everything, including the Void explodes. EVERYTHING.



Chapter 7 - I LOVE BAKLAVA

By Chizita

"Whoa-ho-ho! I am so baked man ;/" said the Glacier, falling through space and time and stuff “it’s like… These are some dope hallucinations because of all the whooshy colours :0" he gasped. But they weren’t hallucinations. They were the time tunnel like things from Doctor Who. But not the ones from the more recent series with Matt Smith, no way! What the fuck are those supposed to be? And what’s up with the star-faces in this series? No I mean the type of trippy shit you got in the Classic Who episode intros. Hot damn were they weird. “Aaaaaanyway what the shit happened? Blasto did some magic to me or something. Not that it matters. I’d like to Blasto her if you know what I mean! ;D" then he fell out of the time stream onto the ground in Montana. A couple of tiny people walked up to it. “Where the fuck did that come from? >:S" wondered one aloud. “I dunno," said the other, “but if the evil bandits get ahold of this, their reign of terror upon this fair state of Montana shall be known far and wide, as it is said in the Prophecy. |:I" “Oh, cool, we have a prophecy? Tell us another! :D"

"On the night of the 67th moonrise of the Game’s beginning, it will be revealed that we only have just that one prophecy about the bandits and no others. Seriously, Peter, do I look like some kind of “Prophecy Knower", who suddenly knows every bloody Nostradamus scripture after some ridiculous suicide attempt culminating in a identity amnesia and a spinal injury? >:P". “Uhh, hate to break it to you Karkat," said Pete “but you kind of do. :|" “STOP SAYING THAT! I’M NOT KARKAT I’M TARVOS!!!! And look! While you were making these fraudulent allegations, the BANDITS HAVE ALREADY STOLEN THE FUCKING GLACIER you fucking IMBECILE! >:0" and it was true! the bandits had attached rockets to the glacier and flew it away and hid it inside a cloud so nobody would find them… EXCEPT THEY DID!

John Marston was walking along, adjusting a portable amp on wheels so that he could walk while playing an epic guitar solo when he strode into the next town, so that they would know that he was a real hardcore mofo coming, and would give him free drinks, lest he impregnate all the women in the town at a mere glance. Or at least, he hoped they would give him free drinks, and he wouldn’t look like a massive tool. Suddenly, Sergeant Blitzmaster (named after John’s Great Grandfather Colonel Blitzmaster, who was also a dog) started yapping and barking at a cloud floating in the sky. John realised that inside the cloud was a secret base in a glacier, and that was so cool, it’s just like Bioshock Infinite, except without the commentary on American Exceptionalism and pretty much anything to do with the game whatsoever. John decided to have another go at making a pop culture reference. John realised that inside the cloud was a secret base inside a glacier, and that was so cool, it’s just like that anime “Laputa: Castle in the Sky". “Good," John decided, “Better that I make pop-culture references about the various media that the Author has actually seen! :P"

John turned his guitar up to max volume and turned to Sergeant Blitzmaster. “Blitz, this is where we part ways. Just know that you have been my best friend for so many years, and i am glad to have known you. Do not wait for me, for I am unsure if i will come back. ;_;" John pointed his guitar at the ground and said…

"Let’s Rock! >:I"

Then he played the raddest, most orgiastic guitar solo, of which the sheer immense volume was enough to blast him off into the sky, and up to the Cloud Glacier Bandit Base. Everybody noticed the author was ripping off of Thirty “H"s. “Holy fuck that was awesome! :D" thought Sergeant Blitzmaster. And he walked off to pursue a successful career in economics.

John Marston flew to the entrance of the base, and blasted in the door with a killer riff. He went inside the opening, to be greeted by all 1000 of the bandits. “Aha! So I see you have come to meet your doom! >:D" said the bandit captain Frak Fifeteen, with all the guns pointing at John from all the bandits. “We’ll see about that! 2:)" John smirked with a weird emoticon, and he nearly blasted them all with Stairway to Heaven, but for some reason it didn’t work! “We were prepared for you, John!" shouted Frak, “we installed an anti-rock force-field inside the Glacier! >8)". “Well, shit." said John. “I guess this means I have to kill you all the old fashioned way. :I" and he drew out two pistols and shot some oil barrels behind a large group of bandits. “Ohohohoho! Real oil barrels don’t work that way! :y" said Frak. “Who says they don’t? 2:)" said John, with a weird emoticon that even i don’t even know what it means. What is that meant to be? Eyebrows? Elvis hair? And John teleported to an alternate dimension where explosive barrels do work that way, and the guys exploded.

Then, expending more ammunition than the amount that was actually loaded into the guns, held his guns to his sides and spun around, getting a headshot every time, until there were only 10 bad guys left, including Frak. But all of them were super ninjas that could avoid any bullet, and John couldn’t kill them. he also had only one bullet left. He could not miss with it!

The Ninja bandits jumped at him and John fistfought them, but the ninjas’ hands were lethal weapons, whereas his were not. So he got an idea.

He grabbed the wrist of one of the Ninjas, and used it to karate chop another one’s arms off, killing him. John picked up the Ninja’s arms and used them to beat all the ninjas to death… except for Frak.

"You have killed all of my henchmen, but you cannot defeat me! >:o" said Frak Fifeteen, as he powered up his super-devastating attack that made him glow bright blue, and made him catch fire from the amount of energy he was powering up to do the attack. But he was taking 10 episodes to charge it so John just shot him in the head. But Frak dodged it! “Ahahaha! You missed! Xy" laughed Frak as he was about to finally perform the devastating blow. “Who says I missed? 2:)" said John smugly, using that stupid emoticon which i don’t understand. is it like, his hairstyle or something? And then, catching Frak by surprise, John fired the gun in reverse and the bullet headshotted Frak and the bullet went back into the gun. “It looks like I just… |8)" said John "… couldn’t think of a pun for this situation. If anybody reading this can give me any suggestions, that would be much appreciated. YEAAAAAAAAAAH! >8D".

"Phew, all this shooting and killing is really getting tiring. I need to sleep! ;0" John Marston yawned. He piled up all of the corpses into a comfortable pile, and fell asleep on top of it.

He dreamed of a landscape where all the people in the world had a cat fetish.

He woke up a thousand years later, because all the bones were getting kind of uncomfortable to sleep on. Realising that in the future, there are aliens invading and destroying the planet, he realised he needed protection, and his cowboy outfit just wasn’t going to cut it. He phoned his secret contact that would get him some cool weapons and shit. John asked for all of these weapons and they had lasers and plasma bullets and stuff. And he asked for some robot armour with flame decals and speedy stripes, but they just ran out of those, because they were in popular demand. So he just got the normal armour.

"Hmm. having slept for a thousand years must mean my TiVo has recorded a lot of my programmes! I guess I better catch up on them!" So he watched all the Doctor Who episodes, and all the Breaking Bad episodes, and all The Wire episodes, and all the Homestuck: The Anime episodes, and all of the Sherlock episodes, and all the Boardwalk Empire episodes, and all the Waffles and I: The Animated Series (Russian dub) episodes, and all the Saddle Club episodes, and all the Ben 10 episodes. Then he saw a series that was reccommended for him. “Master Chef Australia".

"So, I was making Macarons, because at least one person has to make Macarons every bloody episode…" said a contestant, being given an interview in front of a translucent screen with cooking items placed behind it, “when I realised that the time I should have been watching the oven was wasted being given this interview, and the dish got overcooked, and I knew I was going to fail." Then Gary and George went up to them and sympathised with them, saying it was going to be okay, and they shouldn’t feel too down on themselves for fucking up so badly. Then the television exploded, and we cut to like, a million ad breaks, advertising Channel 10’s shitty new 8:30 PM Dramatic Comedy and endless, ENDLESS FUCKING COLES ADS. DOWN DOWN! PRICES ARE DOWN! HOLY SHIT SHUT THE FUCK UP COLES INSTEAD OF SINGING ABOUT LOWERING YOUR FUCKING PRICES AND ABOUT YOUR LITTLE RED FUCKING QUOTE, WHY DON’T YOU GO SING “WE EAT NOTHING BUT MISSHAPEN COCKS ALL DAY", YOU SLIMY, INHUMAN, UNGODLY ABOMINATIONS UPON THE UNIVERSE.


But anyway yeah, I actually wrote a whole speech on how detestable Masterchef Australia is. That speech came second to a speech about tea, which in my opinion, wasn’t all that good. “Who here of you likes coffee? If you do, you deserve to die. blather blather blather if you make tea any other way you’re a cretin, *long list of complex steps nobody is going to remember* and just remember, audience, you suck balls, and i’m superior to every one of you" is how I remember the speech going. Man, what a massive douche. He probably only won because he had the speech entirely from memory. Oh look, the ad break’s finally over.

Finally, after all the forced drama, the judges then taste test the dishes. One of them has made Baklava. “I LOVE BAKLAVA!" said George, for the umpteenth time in the show’s history. “The mere FACT that you made baklava pretty much guarantees you to win the WHOLE CHALLENGE. It’s surprising that nobody has just made nothing but Baklava every time so that they can win the whole show!". They then tasted the dish that the person who overcooked the macarons made. Then they started to debase and degrade them, and just plain outright insulting her as a human being, making them look like assholes for trying to console them in the first place. Then George finds a hair in the meal. Hoo boy. “There is a HAIR. In my MEAL," he said with utter fury, “Can I just tell you how COMPLETELY UNPROFESSIONAL THAT IS? YOU LOSE ALL THE POINTS EVER FOR THIS YOU BLIGHT UPON THE WORLD OF COOKING. HOW DARE YOU INCONVENIENCE ME EVEN ~SLIGHTLY~ WHILE EATING A MEAL. YOU ARE HEREBY EVICTED FROM MASTERCHEF. FOREVER."

Can I just take a break to say how much I hate George every time he does this? It’s always him. Every time. He acts like a complete spoiled brat about it, from his distorted worldview, because of course he doesn’t moult into his meals, oh no, never. That would be too unprofessional! The fact that he never considers this because he is BALD and CAN’T HAVE THAT PROBLEM ANYWAY! Oh my shitting god. And of course, professional behaviour would be for the contestants to wear hairnets, but they can’t because they have to look beautiful for the cameras and that way the show would NEVER sell. George is just the absolute worst judge, for being a hyperactive, self-indulgent, loudmouthed, annoying, bombastic piece of shite, whose own mother has ACTUALLY ADMITTED that his “Authentic Greek Cooking" is not authentic at all! But props can go to Matt Preston for being an utter slimy, british TWAT all the time, I mean dear god what the fuck is wrong with him when he chews? Dear god his chewing is REPUGNANT. I guess that leaves like, Gary, whose personality I can’t recall for the life of me since he was so boring, so i guess that’s a win for him for not being a raving douche. He was british though, so that was a bit of a detractor.

I’m not doing the rest of the episode because I’m having flashbacks more frequently of the show and OH DEAR GOD I JUST REMEMBERED “Junior Masterchef" HOLY FUCK NONONONONON BAD MEMORIES BAD MEMORIES GO AWAY NOW ABORT ABORT ABOOOOOOORT!!!!!!

John Marston finished the final episode and said “wow that show was AWESOME! :D" After thinking it over for a bit, he decided to name himself after the show because he liked it so much! So he went to the place where you can change your name, but John was dyslexic so he accidentally called himself… MASTER CHIEF!

-pov change-

Alex Alexson knew what had to be done. He had to set things right. He went back in time to start the SBURB session again. he immediately regretted that Edrobot didn’t give the author enough detail about this bit.

-pov change-

Trudy parked her Oldsmobile 442 outside the gas station, and took the fuel hose out of the bowser, and into the gas tank. But she had serious business to attend to. She took off her hairband and wrapped it around the little lever doodad that comes on the end of the hose that you have to hold down to let the petrol flow. She needed to make sure she had a full tank in case she needed to make a quick getaway - and she didn’t have time to wait for it to fill, pay the cashier, and then talk to her contact; they were getting impatient enough as it is.

She sauntered into the station, and placed a large wad of cash on the counter, where a Graphic Design Course student working to pay their TAFE fees sat idly. “Don’t even bother counting it out for change ," said Trudy, “I’m sure that this unpecedented windfall will be enough \:)". “Also…" she continued, “Do you a troll named Lilith Armageddon? She’s expecting me here |:I". “Lilith? Oh, she went round to the bathrooms around the back! Glad to help you :3". Trudy thanked her and went to the bathroom at the back of the gas station. Inside was not that of a public restroom, but of a room made of mirrors. In its centre, a polished wooden table, with a seat in front and in behind. In the back seat sat the Blue-Blooded Lilith Armageddon. Trudy sat on the front seat, and faced Lilith. “So I suppose you know why I brought you here for us to meet for our second time ever? :|" asked Lilith. “No, you didn’t. You made sure I would come here without telling me what it is you wanted. Also this is our first meeting, shithead", Trudy replied “By the way, can you give it back now? >:(" “Nope. Not yet not until we’re done here, to make sure you stay right here and don’t torch the place. >:}" a silence. “oh, haha! did you seriously think I didn’t watch you purposely flood that gas tank of yours, surrounding the station with oil? I know all about your history of arson, Trudy. Now, where was I? Ah yes the matter on hand… :T" Trudy stared, and Lilith looked back at her, expecting her to know.

"Do you know how absolutely FREAKY your powers are, Trudy? i mean, there’s freaky, but then there’s Fuh-ree-kee! I mean like - ANIMAL COMMUNION? ARE YOU HAVING ME ON, TRUDY? I mean like, what kind of person can suddenly switch their method of language to a series of meaningless barks and yelps? I mean suddenly, you talk like, chameleon or something, but what, is that meant to be useful or something? Talking to lizasrds and shit? Do lizards even make noises?" she said without using an emoticon because I cant think of a good one to do for then end of that sentence but I want the speech to end for now. “actually they do," said trudy “and it’s less ‘talking’ but using telepathy to talk and think at the same wavelength it’s not that farfetched really… :(". “Pfffffffffffffffffft! In actuality that’s just as dumb! Anyway, I’m going to change the subject from the fact that you’re pretty much Eliza Thornberry, to your other so-far known power. Now, tell me, if you can, Trudy, what the fuck is up with the whole “Water bending" shit, eh? I mean, the ability to kinetically propel WATER of all things? I mean? What’s water going to do? Its fucking water! HOw the hell does that even work anyway? How do you make it move? What is the force that allows you to move water and NOTHING ELSE? By all possible thought processes it makes ABSOLUTEY NO SENSE that you can pick up a huge body of water, but no other matter. You are a FREAK, TRUDY. A BIG FAT UGLY DUMB FREAK WITH SHIT POWERS! >:o"

"OH REALLY!?" shouted Trudy with supreme anger “YES THATS ME. THE BIG FREAKY FREAK. Of course youre not a freak oh no “I can mind control people" THATS NORMAL ISNT IT EH? EH?????? EEEEHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!?!???!?!?!?!?!?!>!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!??!?!?!!@?!? WHAT WAS EVEN THE POINT OF THIS ANYWAY? YOURE IN HERE ALL BUSINESSLIKE, BUT WITH NOTHING ELSE TO DO THAN BITCH AT ME? MAN, I’LL FUCK YOU UP YOU SHITPILE. I’LL FUCKING CUT YOU! >:0" “omfg. :o", Lilith said. “OH, I GET IT NOW." trudy continued “THIS ABOUT YOUR SELF ESTEEM, ISN’T IT?! D::j"

Trudy stared. Then smirked. Then she vanished for a split second before reappearing again. Lilith stared in confusion. “I don’t think you know…" said Trudy “but another one of my “freaky" powers is timetravel. On my timeline I have never lowered your self esteem before, but now I have. In the past. If you weren’t so determined to get revenge, your self esteem would have been intact and you could have been a horrible manipulative bitch your entire life, hypnotising people with your gorgeous looks into doing shit for you and having all the boys. But, no, you’ll always be emotionally crippled, and never live up to any of your true potential. Later, asshole. 8)" Trudy stood up and went to exit the door in a sassy manner, but before she could, the Handsome Brigadeer burst through and fired his 5-barrel pistol at Lilith, but she quickly mindcontrolled him at the last second to make him miss and hit the floor instead, which was flooded with the petrol leaking from Trudy’s car by this point, ingniting it because we’re still in the dimension where explosives “work that way", sending off sparks. Trudy was quick to react by manipulating the liquid away from her feet (and consequentially HB’s due to proximity), which contained traces of water in it because the gas station manager diluted it to reduce costs, but Lilith did not react in time and so she was ignited when the petrol combusted and she burnt to death horribly.

"Wow, uh, you didn’t really need to do that," said Trudy “i kind of had that under control /:". “Undoubtably you did," the Hansome Brigadeer “but my boss said to me “Handsome Brgadeer, I need you to kill Lillith Armageddon. If she succeeds in lowering Trudy’s self esteem, the mob is absolutely FUCKED [:0" but i’m like “noo don’t d do that she’s my true love 4eva&4lyf :(" and hes like “I dont givee a shit. brosb4hos amirite? /:(" so id go "*sigh* umrite… i guess ):>" and now im super sad because shes dead. Hey anywaywhat was that you did with the water? Dude ! hydromancy is so insane and crazy if u no wat i mean. i mean like why only water? Why not just regular telekinesis? And does this mean you can also independently move Oxygen and Hydrogen on their own? Oh MAN IT IS SO FREaky like totally omygosh… :0" and he went on and on in that manner for a while, but Trudy didn’t care. He was such a bloody hunk. She would fuck him so hard, if it werent for the fact that carapaces didnt have genitalia. She tried to think of other hot and kinky things to do while he went on about what the shit is animal communion all about, right? I mean come ON dude you have got to be kidding me there!

Chapter 8 - An Offer in Paris

By ASBusinessMagnet

"Comme je l'ai dit, je n'ai pas les humains qui vivent dans ma maison, mais j'ai un robodad et «Sebastian (Dick m'a envoyé un robobunny nommé Huggy Bear, mais papa l'a adopté, donc il est Lil 'Lil son Robodog Seb maintenant) ."

The Handsome Brigadeer read to me as we were in the fields of Elyssey in the French mythology and the Eifell Tower was looking at us with its holes and the moon was burning hot like it was the sun. I very much liked the literature and the Eifell Tower and the orphanage and the moonlight but then there was this huge meanie who kept calling HB.

"Hey. Boxy."


"That isn't poetry, and you're as French as I am. Oui, bonjour, moi nombre est Jack Noir and /I am not a francais!/"

But then I realized something deep within me.

In case you don't know me yet, I'm Trudy Travis from Miami and I have this complicated life story but more on that later and HB said:


"Does not make me French. End of." And the mysterious caller hung up so HB continued.

"Mon vrai père était un fils de grand-mère à Londres et PoopUp Roberts, qui était le fils de Betty Crocket et Massacre colonel. Il a également juste se trouve que je suis un grand-grand-grand-grand-petite-fille de quelque chose de Chell Junior Roberts, qui était un enfant de Wheatley Potter et Marissa Roberts, qui était un gamin de Gabe Johnson et Caroline, qui était un enfant de Les Directeurs d'Affaires Homme et GLaDOS, j'ai donc une ascendance vraiment célèbre."

But then the mysterious person called me!"

"I know what you're about to say. That everyone falls for you."

HB continued his story with "Mais alors, le PIXIES CANDACENSION..." but I told him to stop.


"Well, I'm not attracted towards you."

"Well, you're not everyone."

"I'm a part of everyone, shitforbrain."

The Louvre Pyramid was nearby so I wanted to get rid of this unpleasant personnelle so I threw the phone and it broke the glass and hit the Gioconda in her face and Leonardo da Vince suddenly got up from his grave which was moved from Italy to France and he was like "WHO MERDE'D UP MY PEINTURE" and randomly shook everyone including the guards who realized that it was 1 AM GMT and the Louvre needed to close and so it closed and Da Vince was shaking the angled door glass bar things. Then he went back to his office, which was also teleported from Vatican to French, and went back to this studies so it was nothing to worry about and I and HB were lovers and walked down the La Defense and I wondered what this silent was.


"Oui. Mais alors, le PIXIES CANDACENSION (AN: Elle est le nouveau leader du CRITIQUES UNIS ET AU LIEU DE LES JEUX DE LA FAIM DE FONCTIONNEMENT, ELLE FAIT NOTRE PLANÈTE comme le sien, mais tout le monde est mort) devait ruiner tous et tuer mon père et me donner un robot qui aime à m'enfermer dans ma chambre."

"I have a story to tell you too. You see, my parents were died when I was very young, like your Janet Roberts character, and then I became an orphanage and because of this had to go do maid jobs and then became a full time maid-"

"Of life?"

"Sorta, but then I was signed up for a popstar contest like the Goblet of Fire was signed up for a contest "how well you can memorize Harry Potter" so I became a winner but then Justin Bieber got even better and I got no revenues so I moved to Miami and became this assassin." Some guys noticed me talking and ran towards me and the girls were tackling HB so I had to cut the story short and we ran towards the Eifell Tower.

On our way The Vince of Leonardo was running past us carrying the Vitruvian Man sculpture because he broke out of Louvre. He wanted to get out of the city of Paris which he called cursed but even as a ghost he needed rest and all the smart people instead of chasing me and HB met up with him. That made the whole task easier so we bursted through the Times Square and ended up directly below the Eifell Tower. This was like the ultimate corner of the world so I pulled out my assassin gun and shot at the top and part of the Eifell Tower came out so everyone was scared away so wwe and walked to the corner of the Eiifel Tower, because that is not like the ultimate corner of the world.

And then I noticed something strange at the top of the tower, because the sun was so bright as the moon and I could see everything.

"Merde, merde, Freecell Solitaire!" It was... Reno Blight was shouting and crumpling his hat! as he was the one who wanted to date me first! lol! take that! but that didn't turn out so I read that tall buildings, especially the Eifell Tower, are struck by lighting often so at this precise moment I heard a thunder and saw absolutely nothing and Reno did this cool slide against the corner so I ran to that particular corner to observe the spectacle and HB followed me.

As Reno was falling, he somehow made himself stop and when he reached us he buried his face in his hands and ran away.

"Hey, Tra?"


"What do you think was best of him to say?"



"It's like losing a game of solitaire?"

"Keep guessing."


"I fell from the Eifell Tower."

As we both laughed, we walked over the River Seine, holding hands like we were meant to be together.

"We will always be together, right?"

"Absolutely. Now where was I with my story? Ah! Elle a également repris le CORP Colombie-Britannique et a dit que je suis son glabre, mais je vais mettre en faillite critiques Unis et prospérer BC Corp ASAP quand je serai 18..."

Chapter 9 - A Steamy Night

By mitspeiler

        That ancient city of lovers was awash with holy light from the moon on that beautiful autumnal evening.  The canals glowed like rivers of molten silver and the myriad stone angels seemed about to take flight, or break out into song.  The low buildings of brick and elegant stone, tiled with red and copper, seemed like faces, their smiling eyes glancing down with approval on the lonely gondola, inhabited only by the young couple and their swarthy, mustachioed pilot.  He sang as he poled the boat along:


Oh, questa è la notte, è una bella notte

E noi lo chiamiamo Bella Notte

Guardate il cielo, hanno stelle nei loro occhi

Su questa bella Bella Notte.

Fianco a fianco con la persona amata,

Troverete incanto qui.

La notte tessere la sua magia,

Quando la persona che ami è vicino!

Oh, questa è la notte, e il cielo è giusto!

Su questa bella, Bella Notte!


                “Japanese is such a beautiful language,” sighed Trudy Travis as a beautiful volcano smoked in the distance.  She was an incredibly beautiful girl with snow-white skin and pure silvery hair, like real silver and not white or some weird grey like they always make it be on live action TV and shit.  Her left eye was red, and her right eye was a new color on an entirely different spectrum so beautiful that it had not been classified for fear that doing so would strip it of meaning.  It was quite simply the color of Trudy’s right eye.

                Both eyes, regardless of color, were glancing in admiration at the swarthy, chitinous visage of the Hansome Brigadeer.  The gigantic cannibalistic insect-man had gotten his name from being a cabby in 1830s London, but also for being incredibly gorgeous by Carapacian and even human standards.  ‘That’s right baby,” he said.  “I’m so glad we’re in Tokyo at this very moment.  Can you believe we almost went to Venice?  That overcrowded urban sprawl of neon and anime tropes?  Haha!”

                Trudy also had a good laugh, but not too good a good laugh, because she remembered her mysterious powers, and how miserable they made her.  If only they hadn’t activated on that terrible night.  Sure, they had saved her life, but had cost her her soul.  Metaphorically of course.  She cried adorable sparkling tears that glittered like diamonds reflecting starlight, which was exactly what they were thanks to one of those many awful powers she had no control over, and buried her head into the cold hard shell of her warm, warm lover.  “I love you,” she muttered, almost to herself.

                “That’s nice babe,” he said.  “Now can you spot me about thirty-thousand yen?”

                “Of course dear,” she breathed breathily, and rummaged through her pocketbook.  Suddenly, a flash of images crossed her eyes, as they often did, another one of her mysterious powers which were a mystery.  A chorus of “that’s nice babe, now can you spot me?” filled her ears like the thunderous crash of an ocean tempest.  All of her conversations with this man ended that way!  She realized that he only loved her for her money.

                “You bastard!” Trudy shouted, slapping him in the face, which did nothing because of his carapace.  “Bastardo!” she repeated in her native Japanese.  “Non mi hai mai amato! Hai amato solo i miei milioni di dollari americani!!” she continued.  She slapped him again, hand temporarily phasing through his outer shell just enough to smack the tender flesh underneath.

                Hansome Brigadeer began to laugh in a most uncharacteristic manner, and reached under his considerable chin.  “Foolish chit,” he said, in a voice completely different from his normal one.  “I am not HB.  I am Alex Alexson!” His head came off with a hiss of steam.  When the acrid vapor cleared, Trudy Travis saw not her once beloved HB, or the bloody, headless neck-hole of her once beloved HB as she had expected, but the sneering face of—

                “Who are you again?” she asked, a cartoon question mark appearing over her head (mysterious power #16).

                The complete stranger fell flat on his face.  The pilot sang another bar of Japanese showtunes.  “I,” muttered the steamy stranger (literally, thought Trudy, and also figuratively, yum), “am Alex Alexson!  Don’t you remember?  You and I have clashed hundreds of times as you impede my steam-powered efforts to save the future!”

                Trudy bit her lower lip, thinking.  “Nope!” she decided.  “I’m sure I would remember that face….” Her Trudy’s-right-eye-colored right eye glinted sensually.

                Alex growled, and from his temporally displaced time-hole where he kept his shit, withdrew his steam-gun, which was like a gun but steam-powered and therefore better, as well as his steam-powered steamsaber, which was like a lightsaber but steam.  It hissed as the blade, made of pure steam, extended itself, superheated to well beyond the boiling point of water and strong enough to seriously scald human skin.  And also slice through tanks.  There must be some tradeoff in using inferior technology, after all.  Wreathed in steam, aglow with the red light of the dozens of tiny furnaces needed to keep his steamweapons and HB powersuit/time machine in functioning condition, his razor smile glinting white through the fumes, Alexson looked like the very image of the devil.  A steam devil, obviously.

                He hefted the steam-gun, copper fastenings, extraneous piping, unnecessary dials and obsolete furnace powered magazine reflecting the terrorized/aroused face of Trudy Travis.  “This thing is horribly inaccurate,” he snickered, “and takes like sixty damn years to reload, but at this range, it can blow a horse-sized hole in a horse.  Imagine what it will do to you!”

                Trudy did.  It was not pretty.   She whimpered.  “Won’t somebody save me?!” she turned to the gondola pilot imploringly.  “Non sono nemmeno giapponese, cagna!” he shouted, and dove into the water.

                Alexson laughed malevolently.  An evil laugh.  A red laugh.  “At long last I can fulfill two promises,” he cocked the hammer on his pistol, which hissed as well as clicked, a pretty badass, intimidating noise combo, “I will kill you and thusly save the future from your vile intentions,” he pressed the barrel to the beautiful gossamer patch of skin between Trudy’s gorgeous mismatched eyes, “and I will give you the steamy nigh—”

                A knife soared through the air and stabbed him in the hand.  The shoddily built pistol broke into pieces, scalding the skin right off it, only compounding the pain of the hideous knife wound by super-heating the blade inside his mangled limb.

                “Oi! Gettin’ stabbed in the ‘and, innit?” shouted a familiar voice.  On another gondola crouched two figures dressed in Guy Fawkes outfits.  They promptly threw off their masks, revealing two familiar faces.  “Who are these two sultry beauties?”  Alexson whimpered, so moved by the vision that he commented on it despite the agonizing pain in his probably permanently disabled hand.

                “Oi!  I’m a bloke I am, yew fookin’ wanka!” shouted the bespectacled blonde with the throwing knives (which he had practiced with since birth and had probably not mentioned up to this point and likely would not use again).  Even so, with his full, pouty lips, and big doe eyes, it was an easy mistake to make around Travis Trudy.  At least until he let loose his basso-profundo voice, at which point many people in his immediate vicinity would vomit a little in their mouths.

                “And,” said the other, shyly, “I’m not sultry or…beautiful.”  People kept telling her that she was attractive, or pretty, or beautiful, or a goddess astride the Earth, or please take me now for but with a single kiss I may at last diiiiiieeeeee, but she knew the truth; Lillith was plain, which was worse than ugly.  Of course, with her flowing, ankle length hair the color of midnight flowing behind her like a shroud of darkness in the stiff Asiatic breeze, delicate china-doll face, watery eyes of purest blue, the very shade of the bashful flush in her cheeks, her delicate yet curvy figure, long, shapely legs (all these features were currently obscured by the Guy Fawkes cloak but I assure you they were very nice indeed) gently curved and deathly sharp horns (which I once again assure you are considered quite desirable traits in trollish culture), and tiny fangs peeking out precociously over her full, blue lips (likewise), it was an easy mistake to make around Lillith Armageddon.

                Trudy’s heart skipped a beat.  All her life, she had been interested in men, yet the sight of this beautiful alien creature left her breathless at the idea of all her missed opportunities.  Every man she had ever been involved with had hurt her, but perhaps this woman could make her happy.  Musing on such thoughts, she completely ignored the epic battle that was erupting around her.  She ignored the maimed Alexson swatting throwing knives out of the air with his steamsaber to focus on the blueness of Lillith’s lips.  She ignored Travis’s hilarious Diskwarudo-reference based one-liners because she had ears only for the long list of expletives erupting from Lillith’s mouth as she dodged a steam-powered troll-seeking missile.  And when Lillith’s eyes filled with blue-tinted hellfire as she unleashed a reality distorting burst of psychic energy from her tenth chakra, Trudy swooned right off the boat.


                “The fookin’ conksuck!” Travis Trudy swore as he saw Trudy Travis fall.  “Lills, we gotsta’ finish the buggerin’ tosspot roight quicklike!”  Travis Trudy activated his third eye and he and Lillith melded their minds on a spiritual level; between them a gargantuan ball of CGI lightning materialized, making the water ripple with the sheer energy it gave off.  Their cloaks fluttered, as if buffeted by a gale, and crackled with an electric charge.  All around the shadows lengthened and focused onto a single point within the ball’s center.

                “Impossible!” shouted Alexson, eyes wide with shock and horror, “Shadow-ball is a ghost type move!”  Finally he noticed something odd about Lillith.  “Whoa!  She has a great rack!  Of horns!  That’s impossible, trolls shouldn’t exist in this timeline yet!  I’ve made a terrible mista—”

                “Tell it to Satan!” Lillith hissed.

                “Git.  We’re gon’ give yew such a twatin’ loike whot yew’ll never believe, ya won’t!” spat Travis.  “Let’s do it Lills!  Let’s fuck-bugger this nackerin’ knob!”  And with a shared throwing motion, they hurled the Shadow-ball at Alexson.

                He crossed his mighty steam-powered-armored arms to block the blow, but they could only do so much, and the ball of light instead of incinerating him painlessly, pushed him through six building and into the side of the mighty, iconically Japanese volcano that I had cleverly foreshadowed earlier; Mount Vesuvius.

                The force of the impact shattered the side of the mountain, and Alex was engulfed by boiling, molten stone.  All of Tokyo was awoken by his horrifc, inhuman screams, inhuman yes, for pain of this magnitude had rendered him less than an animal.  His skin sizzled and burned, pulling back near instantly into nothingness like newspaper held too close to a candle.  His blood boiled in his veins and at long last he was truly a steam-man as all of his fluids burst from their vessels in a horrific multicolored cloud.  His now ruined muscles were rendered temporarily delicious, having been flash-cooked by the volcano, and then instantly rendered incendiary.  By this point Alexson’s lower body, which was actively coated in lava, had been completely reduced to nothing, melted away by the obscenely hot heat from the earth’s core.  His powersuit melted into slag and fused to his bones before they two dripped down like candlewax.  At long last, Alexson’s skull exploded from the blaze, brain annihilated by shrapnel.  However, though his consciousness was dead and his soul safely in Hell, Alexson’s body remained alive to scream until his lungs finally caught fire and every cell in his body was reduced to carbon.  They say in Tokyo that you can still hear him screaming on moonlit nights when teenagers in the vicinity are very drunk.

                While all of this was happening to the steam-powered time traveler, Lillith stripped off her outer garb to dive in after Trudy.  Beneath she was wearing a blue swimsuit decorated with daisies that looked adorable as well as sexy, but that she had only purchased because she thought the cuteness of the daisies would distract from her disgusting figure and a boringly plain face.  She disappeared into the silvery blue waters of Tokyo, the coolness of it on her skin a perfect contrast to the horrific scene I have just finished describing for you.  Trudy was near the bottom and had a blissful look on her face, and Lillith’s breath caught in her throat at the sight of her gorgeous Trudy’s-right-eye-colored eye.  In fact, Lillith was left breathless, which is to say she started drowning.

                Trudy, breathing underwater as she of course was able to do due to her horrible, damnable powers, saw the girl of her dreams struggling to breathe and at last saw how her powers could be useful.  She swam over to the lovely trollop (noun. \ˈträ-ləp\ 2. A female troll [archaic]), and exhaled into her mouth, filling Lillith’s lungs with oxygen, and Lillith’s heart with desire.  The two of them swam upwards, lips locked, and broke the surface together.

                “Oi!  Get back on the fookin’ boat!  The buggerin’ shit are yew doin’ Lills?”  Travis extended his pole.  “Grab ahold, then!”  They did not.  He poked Lillith’s head with the end of it and with an exasperated sigh, the two newly minted lesbians grabbed onto the pole and were dragged onto the gondola.

                “Troll girl,” said Trudy, “I think I love you.”

                Lillith blanched, which is to say she became slightly lighter grey.  “To think that someone as beautiful as you could love someone as plain and unappealing as me!”

                “Jegus fookin’ Grist would ya’ give it a fookin’ rest about yew’re self-esteem issues!  Yew’re fookin’ gorgeous!”  Travis shouted, to no avail.   They had already started singing a musical number.



In my life,

You have burst like the music of angels,

The light of the sun!

And my life seems to stop

As if something is over

And something has scarcely begun!


                And then two were far too distracted with tasting each other’s faces in the loudest, sloppiest, sexiest makeout to ever happen on a Tokyo street (the Giusseppe/Josefina affair of 1996 does not count because since everyone watching ended up pregnant, it technically counted as actual sex) to even think about continuing their song.  Travis groaned, rolled his eyes, and sat himself down to watch.

                “FUCK.  HOMOSEXUALS.”  Said the angry, paternal voice of the Evil Father From Dead Poets Society as he warped in on his amphibious dadmobile.  “I HATE ALL HOMOSEXUALS REGARDLESS OF GENDER OR ETHNICITY!” He loudly declared, his irritated tones hitting the exact nerve reserved for when your father is very disappointed in you.  You are going to be a doctor, damn it.  Is it more of this acting business?  Well you can forget about that.

                The Evil Father From Dead Poets Society hefted his double-barelled shotgun and fired both chambers at once out the window just as the two lovers broke away their kiss to see what the Hell was going on.  Just in time, in fact, for Trudy’s blue-spattered (with trollop slobber obviously, everything that comes off a troll is the exact color of their blood as we all know) face to become quite red as the birdshot tore through her once lovely face and brain.

                “YOU ARE NOT TECHNICALLY A HOMOSEXUAL,” said the evil Father From Dead Poets Society, “BECAUSE YOU ARE A TROLL, AND WHILE YOU HAVE A GENDER, DO NOT ACTUALLY HAVE A SEX, AND THEREFORE ARE PHYSICALLY INCAPABLE OF BEING A SUBJECT FOR MY IRE,” he explained.  “MY WORK DONE, I RETURN TO DIMENTION X, TO CONTINUE MY ENDLESS CAMPAIGN ON HAPPINESS.”  Fuckin.  Military school for everyone in the multiverse.  Then it’s off to MultiHarvard to be a doctor.  A lifetime?  You mean that thing I wasted raising you?  The dadmobile screeched away, its pan-dimensional, sorry pan-dimentional wheels sounding from a universe away.

                Lillith wept for her lost love, and Travis wept for his lost erection.


                “Confiteor Deo,” sang the Buddhist monks at Tokyo Cemetery, “Omnipotenti.  Beatae Mariae, Semper Virgini.”  The beautiful sutras went on as they prepared Trudy to be laid to rest.  Wreathed in incense, the adorasexy form of Lillith Armageddon cried over the corpse of her one-time lover, Trudy Travis.  The monks had prepared her in their traditional ways, clothing the once-beautiful girl, now mangled cadaver, in purest white.  If not for the massive hole in her head, she might have been sleeping.

                Travis Trudy patted his trollfriend’s shoulder.  “Now now, stiff upper lip.  Keep calm an’ carry on,” he said, heart swelling with pride for his beloved Britannia.

                “Beato Michaeli Archangelo!” sang the Buddhists, no doubt supplicating some obscure bodhisattva as they swung their censors.

                “But the prophecy said,” Lillith mumbled stupidly through blue tears, “that I would die by her hand, not the other way around!”

                “‘Ere now,” said Travis quite reasonably, “maybe she weren’t the one.”

                Lillith got up and hit him, but her heart wasn’t in it.  “HOW!?  HOW COULD ANYONE ELSE LOVE A PLAIN UGLY CREATURE SUCH AS I!?  YOU CAN’T KNOW MY PAIN!!”  Then she collapsed and wept into Travis’s chest.

                He patted her back and made comforting noises.  “’Ere love, just lie back and think of England.”  He cupped her chin.  “’Sides.  Oi still think yew’re fookin’ gorgeous.”

                Lillith sniffed loudly, a dollop of blue snot dripping from her delicate nose.  “Thank you Travis human!  You’re a perfect Moirail!”  She started crying again.  “Fuck,” said Travis, “Pale-zoned.”

                ‘Sanctis Apostolis Omnibus Sanctis!”  And with that, as if reacting to a musical cue, which would be very stupid in an entirely visual medium, Trudy gasped as if she had been holding in her breath for a very long time, and her face began to repair itself.  Blood welled up from heinous wound as the bones grew back with an ugly grinding noise.  A tendril of nerve poked out of the newly rebuilt eye-socket and ballooned into a glorious Trudy’s-right-eye-colored eyeball, and finally the muscles grew back, knitting into place as if manipulated by some cosmic needles.  The monks all shouted expletives in Japanese, dropping their censors and absconding the fuck out of there.  Lillith froze up and Travis screamed in horror, jumping into her arms for protection.  “It’s a fookin’ zombie it is!  Quick Lills, shoot it ina’ fookin’ ‘ead!”

                “It was already shot in the head!”  Shouted Lillith.  “The only thing to do is…” she summoned her axe-kind specibus, “tear off the limbs….

                Trudy looked at her friends, and broke down into tears upon seeing the absolute terror in their faces.  “I was right all these years!  I am a monster!”

                “Well Lills, yew ‘eard ‘er!” shouted Travis, still in Lillith’s arms, “finish ‘er off!”  Lillith nodded grimly.

                “No!  Wait!” said Trudy, “I can’t be killed!  I’ve been trying to since I was twelve!”

                Lillith’s face contorted in sympathy and she un-summoned the axe.  Travis jumped down to the floor and dusted himself off, embarrassed.  “Why?” said Lillith, the poor delicate flower wanting to cry too.

                “Because of these awful powers!” shouted Trudy, falling to her knees in despair.  Flower petals rained down on her from the ceiling.  She groaned.  “Do you see what I have to live with!?”  She grabbed a fallen censor and tried to set herself on fire with the embers, but her dress didn’t even catch.  Weeping openly and without a hint of shame, she curled up in a ball on the floor, crying for her mother and her father, crying for her enigmatic past, and most of all, crying for her lost innocence.  Lillith gently made her way over and joined her, holding her tight.  Travis did the same.  He felt so sympathetic that he barely copped a feel at all.


                Observing from the rooftop of the building across the street, a generic looking anime villain, long silvery-purple hair, black skintight armor, a girly face, a highly improbable sword whose very existence violated the laws of physics in the most boring way possible, and random bullshit feathers everywhere so his design won’t be symmetrical, stood with one knee up on a balustrade, a tweed blazer slung over his shoulder.  “Hi,” he said, “I’m Caius Ballad, and you may remember me from such games as Final Fantasy XIII-2.  I’m here to give you some incredibly vague and ominous exposition.”

                He turned away from the audience I mean from watching Trudy having her breakdown, and spoke to a mysterious figure who may or may not have been Lord English with a handlebar mustache.  He was, in fact, not Lord English with a handlebar mustache.  But a meta-demon appears as exactly what the observer expects one to look like.  Caius was way into Homestuck lately, and the meta-demon had spoken with a French accent, so Caius’s version of the creature naturally combined the two.  “Bonsoir. Quelles sont les nouvelles de l'artefact?”  The monster’s voice echoed with the sound of a thousand eternities spent roaring in agony in the burning fires of the meta-Hell beyond the fabled Sixth Wall.

                “Well Mr. French,” said Caius, “we have located the Iblis Trigger.”

                “Sacre-bleau!” said the meta-demon.  “Nous pouvons commencer l'invasion beaucoup plus rapidement que prévu !”  Caius rubbed his chin.  So that’s what it was for.  the fool.  This meta-demon was playing right into Caius’s hands.  Probably.

Chapter 10 - The Most Amaing Thing To Come From A Terrible Lie

By Linkzeldi

“This one has come to kick excretion ports, and consume nourishing planktonoids…and this one’s supply of nourishing planktonoids is utterly depleted.”

A robotic voice shouted as two figures burst into the room. The second of the two figures fumbled with the light switch for a few seconds, before dramatically turning on every light in the facility, revealing….


“This one cannot believe this one traveled back in time for this.” The floating pink octopus looking creature known as Blasto sighed.

Master chief, the tall man in green armor, settled his rifle on his shoulder, and groaned at the sight of the empty space station. “I swear this is the third empty space station we’ve raided today, probably because it is the third empty space station we’ve raided today.”

He paused for a second, waiting for another robotic voice to respond.

Then he looked over to Blasto, who was preoccupied checking the heat exhaustion device on his gun.

“Hey Blasto, remember our agreement. You were going to provide snarky commentary, so I could go on this mission without being shell shocked by the loss of Cortana.”

“So is the flesh being stating that this one encountered you after the events of Halo 4?”

“What’s Halo 4?”

“Regardless, this one feels we should continue our search for Conroy Deux somewhere less empty and without organic life then space?”

Chief picked up his rifle again, trying to put his mind on work, and away from the creeping feeling that he would never have as good of a comedy dynamic with anybody as he did with Cortana. Perhaps Blasto just outshone him, he was just another guy in space armor, what chance did he have of working chemistry with a hero as great as the first hanar spectre.

He felt a tentacle wrap around in shoulder.

“Cease worrying Chief, this one believes you should commit to believing in the this one who believes in you, if you cannot believe in the you who believes in yourself.”

Smiling, he and Blasto fist bumped, and the two left the space station as total bros before getting onto their rocket ship.

“What is this one and you doing sitting on a rocket transportation device?” Blasto asked, not exactly recalling how they traveled to three separate space stations in the first place.

“We’re finishing the fight.”

Chief said, slamming his fist down into the console. While it looked cool, it was also poorly thought out, as Chief managed to use his super strength to break the control system of the rocket, causing the rocket to spin wildly out of control as it entered earth’s atmosphere.

“Should this one be worried we are likely about to become cindering ash in the atmosphere of your species home planet?”

“Don’t worry Blasto, we’re a couple of pimps and you know what they say about those.”

“No, Blasto does not.”


Chief climbed out of the smoldering wreckage of the crashed ship, and laid down in the center of the freshly made crater. Blasto did not need to climb as he could float, and hovered above master chief. Despite them both being in the crash, Chief seemed to be the only one who took actual impact damage. He looked skeptically at the first Hanar spectre for a second, then decided Blasto was just too cool to be heated up by friction upon re-entry into the atompshere.

“This one thinks we are no longer in space, or Kansas, or Space Kansas.”

“That was a terrible idea, visiting Space Kansas on our way to searching for the sorcerer’s stone. Those Space Muchkins were all space assholes.”

“This one thinks we should stop saying space before every space related noun.”

Chief groaned as he sat up, the pain of crashing a space ship at high speeds still fresh in his bones. He found standing up with his suit in emergency lock, akin to trying to dance while you were the rusted tin man. None of his joints could move, and he ended up trying to force his way up through sheer willpower. When that did not work, Blasto awkwardly lifted him with his many, gun wielding tentacles.

The two of them continued walking, though Chief did not so much walk, as move forward in stilted and jerky motions. The forest surrounded them, and continually echoed with the noises of exotic creatures.

“What strange jungle did we land in anyway?”

“This one thinks we are in a terrible land.”

“What is it, did we hit another forerunner world by mistake.”

“No, worse. Mexico.”

Chief grabbed the sides of his helmet. He meant to grab his cheeks, but his face plate got in the way. He wondered why he even kept wearing that thing, it made conversation so impersonal, and Blasto did not even need space armor.

He stopped mid-overdramatic scream to ask, “Wait, Why is mexico so bad again?”

“Because of me!”

An incredibly disproportionately buff man, wearing a luchador costume, with a thick Mexican accent appeared in the trees overhead. When he jumped down to the ground beneath, the earth shook, knocking master chief off of his feet. Blasto was fine though because he was still hovering.

“Who are you?” Chief asked.

“This one was wondering the same thing, punk.”

“Me llamo es, ROB LIEFELD

Master Chief struggled to stand up again, waving his arms around like an excited child to maintain balance. Then he whispered to Blasto.

“Who is that again?”

“It’s the man who created youngblood’s disease.”

“That bastard,” Chief took his rifle out from its holster behind his back. “He’s not going to take our pupils.”

“This one does not technically have pupils.”

“Wait then what do you use to see?”

“This one believes it an unimportant matter at the time.”

While the two were bantering amongst themselves, Rob Liefeld scored the first hit, by walking up to Chief and punching him in the face. Chief took the blow so hard, he flew back several feet and into a tree.

“Ow! I wrestle with brutes on a daily basis, how did some Mexican guy even hurt me.”

“This one hypothesizes that the abnormal size of his muscular circuitry must be lending to his strength.”

Rob Liefeld ripped a tree out of the ground, and slammed it right between Master Chief’s legs. Chief flew about thirty feet into the air in a big arc, before landing back into the crater they emerged from in the first place.

“It is convenient that Liefeld hit you in that exact direction chief, we can now exploit his weakness.”

“EEegeeg?” Chief muttered, in between pained gasps.

“Yes, the only weakness to illegal immigration is good old fashioned PATRIOTISM. Hand this one the eagle gun chief.”

“RHGhrehr” Chief said as he fumbled around for the eagle gun. Digging through boiling shards of wreckage, while in terrible pain was harder then it looked. And it looked pretty hard in the first place. After a few moments of frantic searching, he found the gun he was looking for, and used his enhanced strength to toss it thirty feet to Blasto.

Blasto caught the gun with a free tentacle, and pointed it directly at Rob Liefeld, who was wondering to do with his giant tree now that he went through the trouble of uprooting it.

“This one has forgotten whether it’s heat sink is over capacity, it wonders if the criminal considers himself fortunate.”


“Eat excrement!”

He said in his robotic monotone, before pulling the trigger and launching an eagle straight into the chest of Rob Liefeld. Who then exploded into coins Scott Pilgrim style, and leveled up both Blasto and Master Chief on their echeladders.

Master Chief walked up next to Blasto and caught sight of the coins, and immediately went to the ground to start picking up the boondollars.

“This one recalls you not two moments ago being in pain far away. This one wonders how you are now here and relatively okay.”

“I got better,” Master chief answered, surveying his pile of loot, “I think this is enough to buy us a bus ticket out of mexico.”

A hologram of Rob Liefeld appeared over the coin pile, startling master chief into letting the loot slip in between his finger tips.

“I---“ It beeped.

“What is that?”

“He obviously left a holo-recording of his last thoughts in case we were the ones to kill him, duh.”

“Oh of course, why didn’t I think about that.”

“Shut up you assholes I am trying to talk!” The hologram snapped at both of them.

“You think you can get the stone, well think again, I hid it where nobody would ever think to find. In Istanbul! HAHA! I laugh at you silly americans.”

“I was born on another planet, and he is literally a hanar, an extraterrestrial from the other side of the galaxy.”

The hologram fizzled out of existence before he could come up with an appropriate comeback. Chief looked at his partner.

“So I guess I gotta repair the ship and fly us both to Turkey now?” He said, checking google maps to be sure he knew where Istanbul was on the inside of his helmet.

Blasto slapped Master Chief with a tentacle, because he was not dealing with any of his excrement today.

“No that’s stupid it’s obviously in Atlantis.”

Master Chief stared incredulously at Blasto for a moment, before deciding to trust in his partner who had led him this far.


“We’re in Atlantis,” Chief said, walking through the waterlogged hallways.

“This one would like to remind Chief that at one point this holy land was referred to as rapture. This one does so because it is an important plot point.”

“A plot point?”

“This one thinks you should forget about what this one just said and go back to discussing in an expository fashion.”

“Alright, well I admit it, I might be a cool guy in space marine armor, but even I am a little intimidated by Conroy Deux. He’s the head of the dersite mafia, he’s more brutal then a brute and an elite fighting over which grunt to decapitate for shits and giggles, and worst of all he never shuts up. I mean could you imagine that, being with a partner who does all the talking but obviously has nothing worthwhile to say.”

“This one wonders how Cortana ever put up with that.”

“Right? And if we’re in rapture shouldn’t we be fighting a bunch of big daddies.”


He was significantly taller than either Blasto or Master Chief, and dressed entirely in an old fashioned diving apparatus, modified with a drill on his right hand. He looked at the pair between the windowed grate on his face, not saying anything, but breathing loud and intimidatingly.

“Quick, Blasto shoot it with your eagle gun again!”

“That was a one shot gun that you save for boss fights, this one is sorry for wasting all the ammo on an early midboss.”

Master Chief grimaced underneath his mask, picking up his rifle once again, and readying a shot. There was no secret weapon or cheat out of situation, nor was the comic sans text going to appear to help them out again. They had to figure it out on their own.

Good thing Blasto had literally a gun for every single tentacle, and he was a space marine, otherwise this fight might have been hard.

Blasto provided covering fire, while chief weaving in between blasts of hot plasma and psychic energy, moved in close for the kill. He one armed his rifle, and shot the big daddy in the chest at point blank range, and with his other hand, pulled an elite saber from his belt, and stabbed the last sword into the Big Daddy’s face.

The steam punk looking diver struggled for a minute, trying to stand one last time to finish the fight, before eventually his knees giving way underneath him, and falling to the ground.

“Well we took care of that one without too much disaster.”

Chief said, picking up the coins from their latest kill.

“This one is not speaking so early, this one can still see what is approaching from further down in the hallways.”

Chief looked up, and saw eight more big daddies approaching. Presumably after hearing the first big daddy get brutally murdered and stabbed in the face. He dropped his coins in shock again, and frantically went back to picking them up, and Blasto once again provided covering fire.

“Blasto do you have a plan? My laser sword is all out of laser ammo.”

“Isn’t the point of lasers that they never run out of ammo?”

“Isn’t the point of not having a mouth to prevent you from constantly giving me lip.”

Blasto let out a loud telepathic sigh.

He stopped firing for a second to give himself quiet to think. The chief continued to blab on and on about stuff Blasto did not care about, but he did his best to ignore him.

“Oh, they are all standing within close proximity of an underwater hallway yes?”

Chief stopped firing for a second to look at the big daddy collective that was marching towards them for confirmation.


“Alright, then, the plan is we shall throw a grenade and collapse the hallway drowning all of them.”

“But uh, aren’t they in diving suits?”

“This one remembers the fact that old time diving suits were useless unless they were hooked up to an oxygenator above the water, he sees no such devices on the big daddies.”

“Good enough for me!”

Chief threw away his rifle, because he felt it thematically inappropriate for the insanely cool thing he was about to do. Instead he pulled out a double barreled sawed off shotgun, and shoved two futuristic throwing grenades down the battle. After arming up, he took a moment to smile at the camera and in his grizzly voice say “Groovy!”

He then fired off two consecutive shots at the walls to the left, and right of the big daddies. Water immediately came rushing in, and swept up the big daddies in its forceful current.

The chief took a step backwards, letting his grip of the shotgun fall to his side.



“I think you didn’t think this one through, what happens when that water hits us.”

“Well this one is in no need of breathing apparatus, as this one does not respirate through oxygen as your species does. However, this one encourages you to start running.”

Master Chief took off down the hallway in a full sprint, with Blasto lazily floating behind him.


Master Chief shouted at the top of his lungs while he ran.

“Because the stone is magic. Also if this one does not retrieve the stone before Conroy Deux, he would get really braggy about it and this one does not want to deal with that. Also this one traveled back in time to stop an evil demon known as Seigneur Fraincais.”

“That explains everything.”

Master Chief reached the end of the hallway, and jumped to the colleseum underneath. He landed in the worst way possible, splits style, with  a crack that the Chief was sure was both of his ham strings breaking in half.

Blasto hovered down right next to him.

Master Chief tried to stand up, but his legs were suddenly like jelly.

“Hey how come you are never the one landing in hilarious fashion!”

“Because, gravity is this one’s bitch.”

Standing in the center of the colleseum was Andrew Ryan. He chose this moment to make his present known, by clapping his hands together  loudly and beginning his speech.

I am Andrew Ryan, and I'm here to ask you a question. Is a man not entitled to the sweat of his brow? 'No!' says the man in Washington, 'it belongs to the poor.' 'No!' says the man in the Vatican, 'it belongs to God.' 'No!' says the man in Moscow, 'it belongs to everyone.' I rejected those answers; instead, I chose something different. I chose the impossible. I chose... Rapture. A city where the artist would not fear the censor; where the scientist would not be bound by petty morality; where the great would not be constrained by the small! And with the sweat of your brow, Rapture can become your city as well.”

“What did he just say?” Master chief whispered to his companion.

“This is the part where he offers us to join in on his evil plan..”

“This is the part where I offer you a hand in my evil plan.”

“Oh, this is that part. Yeah well, we’re not joining you!”

Andrew Ryan looked at the two figures quivering underneath him, and with grandiose flair, held out his hand to them.

“A man chooses, a slave obeys!”

“What does that have to do with anything?” Master Chief asked, about as confused  as he had been throughout this entire misadventure.

“It means, since you refuse to join me, I have no choice but to challenge you to a game of simon says. If you defeat me, I shall hand over the stone!”

“So you’ve been the one hiding the stone this entire time! That explains everything! I accept your challenge.”

Blasto hovered in spot, as he was an alien and had no idea what simon says was. He thought it was a good idea to just leave the rest of this boss fight to Master Chief.

Andrew Ryan smirked, as he knew his master plan had come to fruition the moment Master Chief accepted  his challenge.

He raised his hands dramatically in the air and declared.

“Simon Says, don’t kill me with a golf club.”

“Oh well that’s e—“

Chief suddenly lost control of his body and roared. He picked up a golf club from his inventory, and charged Andrew Ryan. Before Andrew Ryan could defend himself, Chief repeatedly clubbed him in the head with a golf club, knocking him onto the ground, and continuing to hit him until he  leaked brain matter on the floor.

He only stopped when Blasto used telekinesis to lift him into the air.

“Well it looks like you and this one lost our only chance to get the stone.”

“Awe Shucks!” The Chief regained control of his body while still hovering mid air, and holding onto his golf club.

“Now this one is frustrated too but no need to use such fucking language.”

A laugh sounded, immediately drawing the attention of the pair to the shadows.


The mobster was short, but he carried a large stick. The cuestick ultraviolence, taken from his own former friend on the midnight crew. He murdered every single member of his old crew without mercy to get to where he was today. That was the cruel kind of man he was. He cast a large shadow over the rest of the room, and the bickering partners, immediately stopped talking to gawk at him, and his dominating diminutive form.

“Conroy Deux was behind this the whole time, that explains everything!”

“Quit stealing that joke, or this one will drop you.”

Conroy stomped his little feet, in a jig, drawing their attention back.

“Now if you don’t mind, I would like to explain my evil plan, unless you two want to continually make witty banter all throughout, because that would be incredibly rude.”

Master Chief crossed his arms. Blasto crossed two tentacles mirroring the gesture.

“Fine, if the little baby wants to have his expositionary monologue, might as well give him what he wants before he throws a tan-OW!”

Conroy shot Master Chief in the foot to shut him up.

“As I was saying, I used my power of hypnosis to compel master chief to lose if he ever fought Andrew Ryan in a simon says contest. Because I knew all along you two idiots would stumble across this secret colleseum where his soul guards the Sorcerer’s stone by completely accident.”

“If we stumbled across here by complete accident, then how could you predict that?” Master chief questioned, massaging his bleeding foot.

“Be quiet Slave!”

Conry opened his eyes, and revealed a purple geass in both eyes. Even though geass was only supposed to work once per person, Conroy had hacked himself with cheat codes so he could make others sustain multiple commands.

Master Chief suddenly found himself unable to talk, and began miming wildly in the air to Conroy, before settling on just flipping him off to express his ills.

“And now, you as well Blasto shall come under my control, and the two of us together will loot the sorcerer’s stone off of Andrew Ryan’s corpse, and sell it to Seigneur Français at a high price.”

He opened his eyes again, and compelled Blasto to serve him with his Geass.

Blasto shrugged.

“This one will consider his options.”

“No, you are supposed to obey, why are you not obeying?”

“Probably because this one does not have eyes.”

“Oh…” Conroy wanted to kick himself for forgetting that all important detail. He walked over to Andrew Ryan’s corpse, and picked up a stone lodged somewhere inside his esophagus. “No matter, I HAVE THE STONE!”

Master Chief tried to looked shock, but he still couldn’t say anything.

Blasto then said “I’m a pimp, and pimps don’t commit suicide,” and blew up Atlantis with the nuke he had hidden in his backpack.  

Chapter 11 - The Viritech Gambit

By Vyro P. Dragon III

Travis Trudy kicked aside a banana sitting at his feet. There were a lot of those here in The Land of Blood and Bananas. There was a lot of blood too. Go figure. That wasn’t important though. Travis glanced over his shoulder, scanning the landscape. Nothing behind him but a few sparse banana trees, oozing blood out of every crevice. Yep, nothing was out of the ordinary. Except something was. Travis waited. The light from the sun faded behind the dark clouds. There were imps nearby. He didn’t see them, but he had expected them for days. His warnings to Lillith were not listened to, partially because she didn’t really care, and partially because it was too late.

Far too late for now, anyways.

Travis had been playing now for about fourteen days. A few days ago, he watched Alex Alexson travel through time, and told him “Alex, I want to travel through time too.”

Alex said “No! You will FIGHT THE IMPS”

There was a time when he believed him. About three days ago really. Then as he got sick of waiting for imps, he stopped. But now in the clearing where he stood, he knew there were imps.

Sure enough, there were imps. Letting out a sigh, Travis materialized his weapon, the Axe-Morpork. Truly a beautiful weapon, it was alchemized from his father’s old fire axe from his days as a firefighter, and his favorite Discworld manga, in Samuel Vimes-san and his Magical City Protector Squad infiltrate a high school in hopes of catching the evil dragon who disguised himself as the head cheerleader. It’s so wonderful.

Travis spun around to face the imps, and instantly began cutting into them with his weapon. His veins coursed with the energy of the Great A'Tuin.

The imps all died in about three seconds.

“God. That was anticlimactic.” Travis couldn’t believe all the emphasis and buildup that Alex put on this battle, if it could even be called that. He put away the Axe-Morpork and sat down on a nearby giant banana. He rested his head in his hands and let out a deep sigh. This wasn’t how he imagined it. Why did he have to get all these stupid bananas and blood? Why could he have like, The Land of Discs and Worlds or something? Even Trudy’s Land of Dragons and Capitalism is better, and the Land of Dragons and Capitalism sucks. His pocket vibrated. With yet another sigh, he slipped out his sleek black phone and read the message he got.

It was Vmsdfx.

“Travis, this is important. The entire universe is at stake!” Vmsdfx’s message read

“ omg dude we’re not even in the universe we’re playing sburb come on” Travis replied

“Oh god man, shut up. We’re all going to die, how does that sound?” Vmsdfx retorted

“pretty bad” Travis admitted

“That’s because it is. Look, I don’t know how safe it is for me to be telling you this, but watch out for Seigneur Français.”

“vmsdfx dude wtf kind of name is signeur francais?”

”One that you WILL know eventually. Chances are good he’ll destroy existence itself. No big deal right? WRONG. We can delay his appearance long enough to find a way to stop him though, just as long as you tell Trudy not to give the Black Queen’s Ring to the Dragon CEO on her pla- OH GOD MY FUCKING HEART I’M DYING OH GOD OH MAN OH GOD OH MAN”


Travis wondered why he just typed that, but was soon overcome with emotion. He threw his phone into a puddle of banana puree and blood and stomped on it. He sat back down on the same rock and cried for one whole hour. Then he sat up. “Wait.” He said to himself. “With Trudy’s power… I can bring Vmsdfx back to life! But wait shit I don’t know where he is… WAIT SHIT! I KNOW WHERE HE IS! He mentioned The Land of Dragons and Capitalism, or at least the boss of some stupid consort megacorporation. Trudy’s land is a good a place as any to find him.”

Travis looked up and saw the portal to Trudy’s land hovering in the air. He climbed to the top of a massive banana, slid down, and jumped in. It was too badass to properly convey through writing.

When Travis landed, he opened his eyes.

“Oh my GOD.” He said.

The land was nothing like he envisioned, or like anything he’d seen before. Instead of a barren landscape full of scattered villages of brain-dead consorts, he appeared to be in a massive metropolis. The draconic consorts seemed to be far more intelligent than his own, walking around in business suits, texting, talking on phones, driving cars. There was even one dressed like a wizard standing in the corner, but who knows what his deal was. Travis ducked into an alleyway, hopeful that he would avoid being noticed.

“Alright, where can I start looking? This place is HUGE Wait, he mentioned a CEO, so…”

Travis exited the alleyway and tapped the one dressed like a wizard on the shoulder.

“Excuse me” Travis said. “Where can I find the headquarters of the largest business in town?”

The wizard spun around. “What?”

“Are you deaf?” Travis said exasperatedly

“No, god no.” The wizard said. “I just thought everyone knew the way to Viritech Inc. HQ. Everyone works there after all. I myself am the head of magic studies, I was here bec-“

“Don’t care.” Travis said. “Can you take me there?”

“Eh, why not. Come with me.”

The dragon wizard led Travis through the winding city streets, until they stopped in front of a massive skyscraper.

“Here you are. Viritech HQ.”

“Great” Travis said. “Thanks.” He walked into the building, leaving the wizard outside.

The wizard watched to see if Travis was out of earshot. When he was, the wizard pulled out a walky-talky and spoke into it. “Be ready boss, we got another one of them snooping around.”

Travis walked inside the building, and asked the front desk receptionist if they saw Vmsdfx. “I THINK a guy like that went to the top floor. Said something about preventing the delivery of a ring. I don’t even know what that was about.”

“How can I get to the top floor?”

“Just get a ride up the elevator with one of our employees.” A dragon with goggles and a lab coat walked by. “Excuse me” the receptionist called to him “Mr. Sanders, would you be willing to take this person up to the top floor”

Mr. Sanders angrily glared at Travis. “Alright, whatever, come on kid, let’s take the elevator. Not like I have IMPORTANT RESEARCH TO DO OR ANYTHING.” They took the elevator.

It was really awkward.

When they got to the top floor, the dragon called Mr. Sanders pushed Travis out. Travis looked around. He was in some kind of long hallway. Along the walls were gold busts of a dragon much like the others in the land. This one had an extra heaping of smug douche on him though. Directly forward was a large ornate door. Travis walked towards it and opened it.

Inside was a beautiful oak desk, with the very dragon portrayed in the busts sitting behind it in a chair. He was wearing a long leather coat, and the most dickishly anime shades ever known to man. He also had somewhat spiky blonde hair, which was weird for a dragon, but nonetheless, Travis was admittedly jealous.

“Well, well well. What do we have here?” The dragon asked

“I’m here looking for my friend Vmsdfk.” Travis said.

“Hmmm… That sucks.” The CEO said. “I don’t have him at the moment, but a certain friend of mine do-”

“But I do” a voice rang out.

“… Exactly…” The Viritech CEO sighed

Travis looked around, trying to see where the voice came from. Suddenly, Vmsdfk’s body was kicked across the floor, resting at Travis’ feet. A figure stepped out of the shadows. It was… CONRAD DEUX!

“Welcome, Mr. Trudy. I suppose you’re here to collect the body of your dead acquaintance. Hmph. That won’t be happening. Really though, I’m quite glad you came anyway. When I heard one of you players was caught snooping around in my cohort here’s building, I was delighted. Finally, my plan can fall into place.”

“Deux. What do you want from me?” Travis asked angrily.

“I think I’ll answer that one.” The dragon CEO said. “I caught this friend of yours digging through my personal files. Luckily I was able to hit him with my experimental Heart Attack Gun. Really was a fun time. Anyway, now that your friend is dead, my Derse business partner, Mr. Deu-“

“I want to make a deal” Deux cut him off.

“What?” Travis was confused

Deux handed him a picture. It depicted a beautiful girl. He pointed skyward. “Bring me the girl, wipe away the debt.”

“What debt?”

The dragon CEO answered “Information. We saw the messages he sent you. Sensitive information, that is. If I am to get the ring, and use its powers to summon Signeur Francais, we can’t have this kind of stuff getting out.”

“That’s INSANE.” Travis yelled.

“Not really.” Deux spoke. “Our plan is quite brilliant. You go to the floating city of Colombia and get me that girl, and my cohort here has you out of his hair for the time being, so that he can initiate HIS plan. We both get something we want.”

“And why should I do it?” Travis asked

“Because if you do, we’ll give you your friend’s body that you seem to want so badly.” Deux said coldly.

Travis examined his options. With a defeated sigh, he said “I’ll do it.”

“Good. Now, I’m afraid I must be off.” Deux said. He looked at the CEO “I trust that you’ll direct him to Columbia?”

“But of course.”

With a cruel laugh, Deux walked down the hallway and went down the elevator.

The CEO turned to Travis

“Heh. Love that guy. Real grade-A quality character that one. Almost wish I wrote him myself. Oh wait, I did.”

“Are you insane?” Travis asked

“No, no. I’m quite sane. Saner that you actually. I’m merely… Not from around these parts. Or even this canon.”


The Viritech CEO began pacing “I’ll let you in on a secret. I’m a member of a meta-jumping gang spearheaded by a certain Signeur. Each of us were given Meta-warping artifacts by the big man himself, with order to do whatever we want, as long as we bring this story to its collapse. Whether this is by turning it into pure inane bullshit, or whether it’s by creating new and dangerous elements in your lives in order to kill you all off and produce the ultimate Downer Ending. All we have to do is ruin the story. While most of my fellows take a considerably more hands-off approach due to the nature of their artifacts, mine allows me to have a much greater role.”

He reached into his desk drawer, and pulled out a glowing book labeled “Prospit Nights: Rough Draft”

“This book allows me to write myself into the story, writing and erasing as I please. This whole land? Mr. Sanders, the Wizard, Viritech Inc.? All of those are just edits I made to the book. Hell, next chapter it might not even still be here. I might not still be here. It’s all just such a wonderful time, isn’t it? Heh. Anyway, I guess it’s time to send you off to retrieve the girl then.”

The Dragon CEO of Viritech Inc. Pulled out a pencil and began to erase and write in the book. The roof of the building vanished as he furiously wrote. Slowly, a massive cannon began materializing on the floor around Travis.

Travis stuck his head out of the cannon and glared at the CEO.

“Mr. Dragon, you are one fucked up dude.”

“Please.” The CEO replied. “Call me Vyro.”

He slammed a red button on his desk, and Travis was sent rocketing skywards.

Vyro P. Dragon III sat in his office chair and watched him fly away, still erasing and writing. As his pencil rose and fell, so did the people and building of The Land of Dragons and Capitalis-

WAAAAAIIIIT a second. Why am I still using the narrative format? Fuck that. What’s up readers? Enjoying this intricate story that I’ve woven? Of course not it fucking sucks. I may be Francais’ meta-jumping second-in-command, but I can’t write SHIT.

Although it’s gonna get a LOT worse when the Signeur shows up. While I may be one who enjoys seeing a story (albeit a shitty one) to its end, the big guy himself isn’t so gracious.

Aaaanyway, I think I’m done dicking around in the Land of Dragons and Capitalism for a while. I’d hate to leave you wanting more bad writing though, so take this one last gift from me, before I leave this pitiful literature to be undone by my boss himself.

Yours truly, Vyro P. Dragon III.

Trudy Travis and Lillith Armageddon walked into the Prospit Café together, ready for their date.

Trudy was wearing an amazing black cowboy hat with a gold band wrapped around it and gold trim along the edges. She had bright green eye makeup and black gothic lipstick that sparkled like a thousand shining stars in the night sky. For a dress she had a perfect blue ballgown that was made of shiny fabric that reflected all the beauty of the world around it but none of the bad stuff because it was a BEAUTIFUL ballgown. Her breasts were prominent and soft-looking. They were massive in size, barely fitting in her bra. They had a perfect round shape to them, as if crafted by the gods themselves, or perhaps even one GREAT AS SHIT evil meta-jumping author.

Lillith had rainbow hair tassels woven into her beautiful soft black hair, which cascaded down to her knees and carried the scent of blueberries. Her red eyeliner matched perfectly with her lime green lipstick. It was like a match made in makeup heaven. Around her neck she had a Hawaiian shell necklace, which rested on top of her sizable bosom. Her breasts were firm, yet remarkably plushy-looking. Her Green Day top did a poor job of containing them, and her nipples were clearly showing through the fabric, as she was lacking a bra Luckily they were hidden by her denim overalls, which were perhaps a bit long for her, as they cascaded down to the floor and almost covered her expensive high heels.

They sat down at a table. “You look great Lillith!” Trudy said

“No I don’t…” Lillith cried

Suddenly, someone burst into the room!


It was.............................................Handsome Brigadier!

Chapter 12 - Chosen for me

By dragongirl253

I was Master Chief but, them. I got omneesia when the oshin Rapture blew up becze the explozhin made 'm bump his hed on a flohtng sity.... i whent inyto a comma, bt i felt myslef krashng threw a widnow en the glas cute me eveny wiht the soot. (Teh glas was duhble layred so Mister Chef felt it allot soo shnut up) i woke up en i whas liying in A bubnch og brocken ghlas nd theyre was blud evrywere but Naster Chieg dindt cair bcz he usuly got got shoot a lot anyways. the son frum sum ohter winows, where shinnin on teh brokene gvlas, ao it reflectictid itno layzers. thhe lahserz, mde sum bouks aroond me cach om feare, bt taht wahs fin. i wds, kund pf, sadd bkuz teh shelfs where sdo prity nd alo cuz smok istnt goud 4 ur lngs. sudnly i reelised i had kno idei hoo i am, so i seye n shok

        “. my nane is Bookker de''Witt; I wokked ovher 2 te liebrarean as I” sed. i lso relizd thaht i dinnt now were i wass eether so i wus abboutt 2 axk theh libearien, bt i pot my hnd onn her shoulder and it was actually troll Bruce Campbell! He was really ugly so Booker (But actually master chief) almost barfed. I was almost vomit, then another orange man with grey skin and candy corn horns walked out and he was less ugly but he made the room seem bad. Matth Hussy said, “Bring us the girl, wipe away the debt.” But he said it really spooky like a ghost in a movie. I shivered, and then the men with candy corn and grey skin floated away through the ceiling.

        So I have to find the girl, but I didn't know what girl, so I decide I should go ask mayor Comstock if he knows what girl Mr. Husie was talking about. Comstock if the mayor of the city, so he must be really smart if he owns this floating city, Columbia. Booker was walking over to the mayor's place, and then he saw George Washington, so I straightened my tie to go talk to him. Goerge Washington said, “You can't go see the mayor because he's busy planting flowers because Columbia is ugly.”

        Nxt I got pset, so I punchd the prezdant. Than hiss i's trned red leike he whas hiii exept s/he also locked ngree, nd he karotee choiped me in teh back of the nekk bt i dniyd fell it bekz i whas majikal (magik is really real, because look at Eridan and Sollux when they fought, that has to be magick. BTW EriSol <3< 5evar!!!!) i allway defnd m,ysef win ppl like Groge Butch r bng stoopd lkie tjat. i stahped, bing com, nd reemembed thaht i u'st 2 fite a lot.

        i strted yeeling at washngtun, en tahn hee yeled back, lieke n annoying girlfrien.d (annying grils like that are so teerrible liek that there so selfish always X( rate cmment subskrib if you agree ;]) soohn ppl strted starrng @ me 4 now reezon, en 1st, it made MC feal raly irrsekyure, but. thne he hurd ppl sying tht is powure mek soot whas relly awsume, so hten Booker DeWitt felt soopur confedint, nd it mase me smille.

        Suddenly, I realized that Goorj Washington was actually a robot! The Booker had a lot of self esteem(Not like stupid tavros lolol stupid idiot got paralyzed who does taht), so he pulled out a shotgun and then KABLAM WOOSH PEW PEW PEW AND THEN TH ROBOT EXPLODED after I hit it with the meslsies and it was like the windy thing except a piece of the blown up robot hit me in the head and I almost died, but actually I just fell over.

        I was standing up and then suddenly I saw the orange man and the ugly guy in the sky! But then a person said a thing to me and I realized that I was actually just seeing things because of a stupid concussion. (liek Herobrine in mindcraft srsly ppl herobrine doesnt exizt is jst a mith srsly lul noobs) Teh vois is actuhly to Mayo!!!! Comstock grapss Booker so he doenst foll of the brij bcz the brij is eally creecky en theh wotr s coold nd their r teh skneeting fich in it so u wood dy.

        Mwsterf CHiegf (who is actually Booker DeWitt) sez, “Thks I woold of fallin in u helped me alott than” an je loockt ovr teh ej off tge brij” i wuz giting uhp ,bt than sudenally the MAre haad a nife nd he whaz hooleding it in a waey i didn'nt like! i gaht owt, my liteling grenaids nd my sord, bt thhen Constock yelld “,EXPELIAMIS!.” an i draped all the lihtezing greenahdes in te wotter en hee tranfoormed thte hookshot into a smaller version of a sword I have. ahl the fishes inb thee wather dyed en it whuz realy prity bcz theire waz bloo litining onm the wahtter.

        The lightning made everything seem really important and reminded Booker of his childhood. Booker DeWitt started reminiscing about when he was a baby. He also remembered that he died that one time, but Booker didn't have time to think anymore because suddenly Prins Constock stabped mee on teh bak! it hurt a lot, so I only kinda heard him say, “I AM gunna to kil u, becuse. sum of mi sitsins diyd wen tthte rowbott blu up i'ts al yur, falt: u mad thum hav hart atakx”.

        Constock tryed 2 stabb meh agen, but i. dodged, and than I stood on the brige handless and I, shott mie nife @@ hum, buhtt he moved and fell in the water I hopped down. And I charged at. him with my knife, and frirst he dukt nd tryd 2 stap mee. n tehe leg, buht i flung my legs the the sighde ad allmohst feell in teh wat'ter i wuzs, swinging the kniefe arownd. Like a bada$$, b4fore i hitt the grund, and I, stabbed. constack in tte I and I sid “NOO You'”re gong 2 dy f1st bcus u, ar dum..! i thot u wnhere smart bcz u raun the floating city but you're NAHTTt”

        But I didn'tt die yet, and he replied, ““Oh really is THISSS stupid” and He made a time portal and he grabbed my shirt which felt weird because I am like John because I am not a homosexual because that's really grohs andy troolls are so AGLYYY “WE ARE GOING TO SANIC FOR SCENERY””he screamed, which hurt my ears and then he pulled Booker through the time portal and then we were in Sanic o'Dix in the trial of intelligence with a bunch of warp portals, but it turns out... It was actually virtual reality;

         (because we are in the future duh you guys are dumb if you don't know that geez) And then Constock disappeared! Next, DeWitt was in a swamp. (OMG you guys are dumb it's because the Mayor switched the games on the oculus rift geezduh) “YOU ARE NOT SmArtT, You are STUPID BecAUSe ALL tJE TimE, You DIDN'T EVEN KNOW WHERE THE GIRL IS you stupid idiot!!!” Master Chief almost got amnesia again. (But I didn't because I already have it so there's no point buying a second copy of the game and waste my moneyz lololololololololzolololzololollololozlzozlolololo1lolololololololo0lololololololollolololuololoulouluololololo1lozlzololololol0ololololololo1lololzolo1z1loololoilolololololliollolozlololololol1oloSrsly =P) when I took a step forward. Suddenly the priest is there!

        He “asked with mystery in his voice, “Mr. DeWitt, Chief Booking Master.... HMMMMMMM DO you hate yourself?” his voice was nice and it sounded like a flute, so I didn't feel like lying to him or arguing with him because he looked like he was even stupider than Comstock, so I said ,”Yes” Suddenly I heard him yelling! The priest longer sounded like a flute now that he was yelling and he tackled Booker.

        Before anything, I was underwater, and I didn't even know for a minute that the priest was yelling at me, “YOU ARE NOT CHRISTIAN ENOUGH AT ALL!” because I didn't recognize his voice when he was yelling and his robes covered my face so I would suffocate. Booker DeWitt was struggling to get away, but the priest was probably a demon right now because he was such a butt and also really strong. “YOU DON'T! EVEN, BELIEVE THAT JESUS.. IS! EVERYWHERE, AND YOU'RE. WRONG! BECAUSE.!.,? RIGHT, NOW! WE'RE IN... JESUS'S RIGHT NOSTRIL.”

        Master Chief was almost drowned, but then suddenly the priest stood up and said, “PEOPLE DO! NOT, APPRECIATE. GOD I DON'T THINK! THEYRE REALIZE.! THAT, ALL BIBLES! ARE RIGHT. AND MYTHICAL”, so Booker got his knife and stabbed him...

        Suddenly the amnesia that Master Chief got earlier came back.And now,. i doon't reememper annyting at ahll al i reemembere iz teh ugglee an ornj mehn wo sad 2 brig then tee gril, nd allso theyr zs a ded boby. in frunt of, me and I have a bloody knife in the hands. I panic and decide to become the priest. So that no-one will every find out, that you probably murdered a person.

        But suddenly. The flesh of the body flashes in pixels and it turns out the priest is actually the Mayor of the floating city, Columbia, Constock! The priest realizes that I now own Columbia. Which is a pretty cool city, because, it floats. “I am the mayor of columbia!!”! I say out loud because I am excited. Booker starts to turn off the virtual reality because it is hurting my eyes, but then some children walk up to me.

        Their hair is 4 feet tall. and, the one that is a girl. Is green hair. The other one, that is, a boy... Is purple hair. I looked at them weird so. They got offended and she said, “Actually WEEE are the REAL constocks's kids, so we own the city, you are so stupid!” But than I said, “But III am the mayor constocks and also a priest”,” The boy gets upset and is like, “NOOO THAT OVER THERE”, He pointed to the body you murdered” “Is the REAL constock, you are an identity thief!!,””BUUUT we will challenge you to a card game to see who owns the floating city...”

        “OK You're on there's no way I'm gonna lose to children twins because I have lots of god,” You said, because you are the priest and/or the mayor. The twin said”,You are not goinna win because we're better!”or ,“We are gonna play a death tank spider monster card in attack mode, and also place a trap card!” Ok so I am playing yu-gi-o and I don't have the right cards, so I get the next best thing and I yell, “GOOO PIKACHU USE LIGHTNING?!!!” as The priestmayor throws the pikachu card onto the other cards! The yugio cards short out and ESPLODE, and do lotsa life point damage to the twins, but I made it so we're playing a different game. But, the whole time, I think priestmayor can see the orange man's face among the tree branches

        “Yeah well,” the twin says, and then he puts a card down, “I'm putting out my drago bakugon on this card so it has LIKE A THOUSAND POWER” I gasp because that's a lot of power. You send out your bakugon, but I slip on your pedestal and hit my head on the railing, and suddenly I remember EVRYTHING! I remembered that I'm actually Master Chief! But then the bakugan hits the ground and turns into a zombie. The zombie went after some other wildlife, and then it ripped open the warthog, and it opened a time portal! Yourself (Booker) from the past leaps through the portal and stabs the twins with his knife.

        The twins died, so I won Columbia, but then Past!Booker is staring at me hostilely. I frown because I am getting a lot of bad attention today, and then Past!booker tries to stab me! He stabs me in the shoulder but I am Master Chief so I don't care. I am sick of knife fights, so I jump into a tree above the time portal, and then past!booker follows me, so Master Chief stabs him in the face, and then he fell back down into the time portal, so you win and now you own the city!

        But suddenly you're back in the meadow, and you notice Andew Huspee floating above you again because his grey stands out, against the really blue sky on the sea. For no reason, he cuts one of the ropes holding up the bridge you're on!

        Master Chief/Booker DeWitt/Priest/Mayor Comstock/priestmayor gasp as I relaize all, this time... Maatdru Huusie was trying to sabot,ge!!!

Chapter 13 - General Chocinight Knuxosmo, Where the Hell is My Airstrike, God Damn It.

By Lieutenant Fish





The sound of the mizzenmast being felled like some sort of large vertical wooden object jolted Evil Father's Evil Twin out of his flashback, and similarly jolted anyone else out of it who happened to be experiencing it with him, whoever they might have been.

"Timber, windbag," whispered Spades Slick, neglecting to power down the chainsaw element of his Chainsaw Swordgun in time for anyone to even stand a chance of hearing him (not that he cared). Evil Father's Evil Twin dove for safety, but was halfway unsuccessful twice over, resulting in the second-worst safety dive we can reasonably expect from this narrative. His left leg was caught under the falling mast, and every single bone south of the ol' pelvis was shattered irreparably. His second safety dive-related bout of ill fortune came in the form of a stout salty barrel of indeterminate contents, the sort no respectable pirate would allow his ship to go uncluttered by, and the stout salty crack it delivered to his evil head when he bumped into it.

Spades closed in to finish the duel, regardless of Evil Father's Evil Twin's current state of unconsciousness, but was held back by one of Troll Bruce Campbell's meaty arms.

"Let it go, Spades. That two-bit crook aint worth it," said Campbell, adopting the mannerisms of Sam Axe from Burn Notice, since that's the really only thing with Bruce Campbell that I've seen. Slick attempted to extricate himself from the tough yet good-natured grasp, but was unable to overcome. He forced himself to relax, though only for the purposes of lulling Campbell into a false sense of security.

Andrew Hussie took a few tentative steps towards Evil Father's Evil Twin's evil body, and nudged a motionless outstretched hand once or twice with his foot.

"I think he's still alive. We should move while the zombie pirate ghosts are still under the flashback trance, they're going to recover sooner or later." Nobody did, because he didn't say where they should move to, and also because there wasn't a single idea about that to be had among the motley group. After about ten seconds of awkward silence, the zombie pirate ghosts began to recover. "Oh well, said Andrew Hussie," and then: "Whatever."

Funny thing about zombie pirate ghosts: the cannot stand the scent of bilge.

"Nobody really knows why, you'd think their pirate aspect would cancel out whatever it is the ghost and/or zombie elements find so unappealing about it."

Andrew Hussie was maintaining easily the most cheerful outlook among the party, regaling his companions with a stream of expository facts about their adversaries. As true as these facts seemed to be, (not a single zombie pirate ghost had disturbed them down there in the Bilge storage compartment), Campbell and Slick both felt that the alacrity with which he dispensed them probably meant that he was making most of it up.

"I'm making all of this up, by the way," he added, pausing for a moment to wring the bilge out of his shirt, and scramble around for a drier place to sit. "Don't think I don't have a reason for this. I'm beginning to feel that my thoughts and statements may hold some influence on the world around us, as much of a mess that it is. This isn't my fault, though, trust me." This last remark was directed at Slick, and the scowl beginning to form on his face. "If I was calling the shots here, we wouldn't be fighting zombie pirate ghosts. I wrote about the merits of that sort of thing, once. Actually, as long as we're stuck down here, I suppose there's no reason whatsoever for me not to recite the entire arti-"

He was cut off by a tremendous, jarring thump, as the ship came to a halt and bilge sloshed around as though it had been promised an award on demonstration of the capacity for exemplary sloshing. Andrew lowered the cupped hand that he had been raising expectantly to his ear over the course of his interrupted sentence, and said "Perfect."

"I don't get it," said Campbell, scrubbing bilge out of his eyes. Slick looked back and forth between the two for a moment, than let loose a single, hoarse chuckle.

"I still don't get it!" Campbell protested, just in time for the commercial break. Midway through a Saab advert, the reader understood as well.

Chapter 14 - The Return of Captain White

By Maltor Drey

Trudy panicked.

"You've got some nerve," the Brigadeer was saying. "Cold. That's what you are. Cold."

Trudy wasn't listening. She was- and her hands- and her fingers- and a flash of purple light- and then-

The Brigadeer stopped.

Lillith looked up at her. "What. did. you. do."

There, where the Hansome Brigadeer had been standing not one moment earlier, was a solid granite statue, frozen in a grimly comical look of half-surprise.

"I wasn't- I didn't- oh god," Trudy managed.

Lillith recoiled, pulling her body away from Trudy's.

"I didn't mean-"

"You're a monster," Lillith spat, bursting into tears.

Then she turned and ran out of the room, pushing past the Brigadeer's frozen body, tears streaming down her face, like paint sloppily spread over a blank canvas which has been left to stand in the rain. Which might, perhaps, sound like a wonderful experiment in the avant-garde, but instead only consists of pure sorrow.


Speaking of elaborate artistic metaphors, Conroy Deux was engaged in that highest form of art: eating a sandwich. But not just any sandwich, oh no. This was the sandwich. Fine wholegrain bread, freshly baked. Dijon mustard, spread thin, but not too thin. Clean, crisp, crunchy lettuce. Succulent bacon, roasted to perfection. Rich, juicy tomato. And just a dollop of mayonnaise.

People who brought Deux sandwiches not up to scratch tended to find themselves taking a long walk off a short pier. With their feet encased in concrete.

The sandwich, however, is not important. Also not important is what Conroy was saying into the phone.

"How much?" he muttered, through a mouthful of meat. "12,000?" A pause. "You sure?" Another pause. Conroy took another bite. "Tell him I'm insulted."

He hung up, grumbling under his breath. "Can't take anyone's word for granted these days," he told himself. There's no respect in this town. Honestly. You give a man a job, used to be you could expect him to do it. Not any more. God, I miss the old days. Just a gun and a target. One shot and it's done..."

He continued to speak under his breath as he got up and began to walk around, pacing the winding halls, narrow corridors and twisted stairways of the complex. Some time later, as he was ascending a darkened stairwell, mumbling to himself all the while, something made him pause.

There was a sound. Out of place. Unusual.

It sounded like... sobbing?

Deux took a route leading away from his usual rounds, in an attempt to discover the source of the noise. What he found was Trudy Travis, hunched in a ball in the corner of the room, crying softly to herself.

It didn't occur to Deux to ask Trudy what she was doing there. I'm sure I don't need to tell you, illustrious reader, so we shall move on.

"What's the matter, sweetheart?" he asked.

"Oh, god, I'm awful," Trudy moaned. "I'm so utterly useless, and, and my powers- all they ever do is" -her voice wavered- "screw things up." A tear ran down her face from one of her mismatched eyes, highlighting the curve of her cheekbone. "I- I didn't mean to turn Brigadeer to stone... It was an accident. Oh, why does it have to be me? Can't I just be an ordinary- I- I don't want to be like this."

Conroy's heart could not help being touched by such a display of raw emotion. He felt- yes, he felt as though he was melting, his once rigid, solid heart thawing  in a way he couldn't quite describe.

"Actually," he said, "I think I remember... there may be something we can do."

Trudy sniffed. "R- really?"

"Yes," Deux answered. "If I'm right, then I think there might just be a way to cure people who've been turned to stone. And I'm pretty sure I'm right. In fact I must be. Of course I am! I don't know, I was foolish to ever doubt myself. There's a way to fix this, for certain."

"What is it?" Trudy asked.

"My dear girl," Conroy began, "to cure Hansome, we need..."


"The one and only... Holy Grail."

"Never heard of it," said Spades Slick. He and Lillith were there too now.

"So, the Holy Grail can heal people turned to stone?" Trudy asked.

"Of course it can," said Deux. "Why, it worked for Medusa, didn't it?"

"That's a totally different mythology!" said Spades Slick. "And Medusa turned people into stone. They didn't get cured."

"So, where can we get the grail?" Trudy asked.

"Where it's always kept. In England."

"This is ridiculous," said Spades Slick. Everyone ignored him.

"Well then, that's where we're going. To England!"

"Yes, to England!"


Our valiant heroes trudged through the dank, lush, steaming mires and marshes of Northern England, heading into the deepest, darkest corner of the island kingdom to find it's greatest secret: King Arthur's castle! Somewhere in the distance, Big Ben chimed, giving out five deep, melancholy rings that dissipated slowly into nothingness.

That meant it was tea time. Everyone stopped for tea, which is required by law in Britain.

While sipping her tea, Trudy, still sobbing slightly, looked ahead into the distance. "Is- is that what I think it is?"

Deux looked up at grinned. "I believe that's it. Camelot."

The group trudged on a mile more, arriving at last at the grim drawbridge looming over them.

"It's not very secret, is it?" said Spades Slick.

Trudy lifted her hand to knock at the door. Before she could do so, however, the drawbridge began to steadily lower itself downwards, and the portcullis to raise.

"Welcome, fair travelers," a deep, booming voice rang out, "to Camelot, court of the noble Arthur!"

"You must be Merlin," said Deux to the man from whom the voice came. "I can tell by the robe and wizard hat. The staff helps too. And the long beard. Also the fact that you're magically hovering. Yes indeed."

"That is correct," said Merlin.

"Do you know why we're here?" Trudy edged in.

"Of course. You seek the Holy Grail."


"I have it. But I cannot merely hand it to you. If you truly wish to use its powers, you must first prove yourselves worthy."

"I'll do anything."

"If you wish to save your friend, you must slay the great dragon which lives in these hills."

"A dragon?" said Spades Slick. "I... ugh. The wizard was pushing it, but a dragon? Let me know when things stop being so cliché."

"I will lend you aid on your quest," Merlin said. "Weapons, and armour. And Arthur here shall come and assist you."

The king looked down nobly at the motley crew of ragtag travellers. "Hi," he said.



So everyone went to the dragon's lair, which was in a cave. Inside the cave it was dark, so they carried torches.

They climbed through the system of tunnels, which were of course big enough for a dragon to fit through, looking for the place where it rested.

They found the dragon in it's lair at last. It was sleeping atop a pile of accumulated gold, as dragons are wont to do. The gold glistened and sparkled in the light.

The dragon itself was huge, spanning sixteen feet, with perhaps a ten foot wingspan. It's scales were a ruby red, and the torchlight gleamed off them as it did the gold. Though the mighty beast's eyes were closed, it could no doubt be assumed that they were a slanted golden, like that of a cat. It's wings were folded neatly across its back, thick, leathery, and slightly torn, as if hinting at great battles in it's past. It's tail, stretching out majestically behind it's body, twitched back and forth in it's sleep.

Everyone attacked the dragon and killed it.

"Yay!" said Trudy, wiping the blood off her sword. "Now we can get the Grail and save the Brigadeer!"

"Not so fast, kid," said Conroy Deux, drawing his sword-cane dramatically. "If I were you, I'd think twice about trying to leave this cave... /alive/. "

"What? What's going on?"

"You really can't tell?" Deux snarled. "My dear, did you really think I cared so much about your little boyfriend problem as to fly halfway across the world? Ah hah. No, my friends, I was interested in something else entirely."

Lillith gasped. "You want the Grail's power for yourself!"

"Bingo. Of course, I knew I could never prove myself worthy of the grail alone. I needed your powers to succeed. So thank you, very kindly indeed."

"What are you going to do to us?" Trudy queried.

"Seal off the cave entrance and leave you to rot. Can't have you snitching now, can we?"

King Arthur stepped forward. His long, golden hair blew in the breeze. His bushy beard covering his squarely set chin, blue eyes glistening, he spoke in a noble, heroic voice. "Conroy," he said. "You have told us your secret. Very well. Perhaps I ought to tell you mine."

Deux paused. "Oh?"

"I am not, in fact, who you think I am." And so saying, he tore off his wig and false beard, to reveal... Alex Alexson, steampunk time traveller!

Everyone gasped.

"Conroy," said Alex again, "do you really think this is worth it? I mean, what's the Grail going to get you? Power? Money? Is that really what you want, Conroy? Really."

"Well, y-" Deux began.

Alex cut him off. "I don't believe it is. Look around you, Conroy. What do you see?"


"People. People who've helped you. People who've worked with you. People who've fought with you. People you care about. Friends, Deux. That's what they are. And you should care about them, far more than about some little golden trinket."


"The grail is worth millions, yes. Perhaps even billions. But what you have here? That is priceless. You can't give that up, Conroy. And I don't believe you will."

"I- oh, fine! Let's just get out of here before I change my mind," said Deux, a single tear running down his cheek.

And so they left.

Chapter 15 - “Chapter 42”


The gon shooked in his hand. Conroy Duex's hand. He just hot shomebody. It was an accident because CD is dumb. Maybe. Or he's just incredibly brutal. Fffffffffffff The man he shot was named Vmsdfx Rewoi and he had a goatee.

“I'm sorry” said CD as he watched the man fall off the Eiffel tower. How the cuck the did they ket there anyway?

Weird time shit. That's how. That is how always stuff takes place.


Vsmdfx kept falling he was still falling when they showed up. “NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO” screamed Trudy with his London accent.

“Shut up,k I can re-wind time!” She said. Trudy was very beautiful and she wans an albino from miami who had mimatching eyes. One was pink and the other was orange. She was so beautiful she made the birds sing wheneer she walked into the awoogds. She put up her hands and did a TIME PROJECTION!! But then the time projection didn't workd and it was broken, because she can't control it.

Travist Trudy is bes t described ad a very pretty blond poiy.

Suddenly, the air b egan to warp in front of them, bubbling and being all electric and stuff. It was another time travelerQ!!

“Hellow my name is Alexson. Alex Alexon.”

An abulance came and took Vsmsap Rwowie to the hopspital.

Alex hovered right in front of them, as if by magic, In fact he did hover because of magic. He wore goggles on his face and he had a really gcool helmet and it was blue. He wore a lot of steampunk stuff and his face was ratther ruggedly handsome looking.

“hat are you doing? Get out of the way!” trudy shouted. “I must fix the time stream! Something whent wrong and now Vsmfxd Radslfj is dead!”

“You cannot repair it Alex boomed, “It is a fixed point in time.”

“Whaat?” says someone.

“How is that a thing?” A strange orange man observed from afar. But he is not important so we'll ignore him. “Excuse me, I can hear you and I will not be ignored.” he said to nobody in particular,

Trudy was confused. “It's because I can't control my powers!” she accidentally sent to orange guy back in tie to five seconds ago.

“It was a mistake I was forced to made!” she started to w cry. She fast-forwarded time a little. And then, Evil Father teleported into in front of the eifiel tower and said to Travis, “Travis! You are a Lored of ime! You have already gone God Tier!!”

“I haver?” He looked down at his dainty hands, these hands were now immortal and also was the rest of thim. He had amnesia so he did not know how it happened.

“STFU, ALEX!!! You CAN change the time line! BUT FIRAST, I CHALLENGE YOU TO A DUEL!!!”

“Okay. Everything here is bullshit.” Said Andrew Hussie. “Hey, Spades Slick. Where are you?” He said into wa walkie talkine.

SS andswered the walkie talkie. “I'm playing cards with HB. What's the problem?”

“Some asshole is writing shitty fan fiction again. This time, I am going to sabotage it from within and make the author kneel before me once I reduce it to a smoldering pile of ash.” Hussie says.

“Have fun with that.” said Spades Slick. He wanst so t see it burn too.

Andrew turns the communication device off.

Andrew Hussie then jumps on his manificient stallion that came out of a portal with troll Bruce Capmbel and shouts, “ONWARD, NOBLE STEED!” and then they run whoknows war to do who knows what to MY fanfiction!!! >


Evil Father and Travis trudy fight.

Vsmdfx Rowie is in the hostpital bed fighting for his life. He hallucinateds about his imaginarity friend named Trudy Travis. “Hello! Did you have a nice nap?” she floated from the wall and sits in the hair.

“Yes id did.” he said. “But the fact of the matere is tha ti got shot by a stout gy who talks a lot and I am so mysterious I don't mknow me half the time.”

“Well thaqt sucks.” says Trud.

Travis trudy is wounded! Evil Father stabbed him with a knife. As he lays dying and his wounds regnerate, Trudy Travis holds him close to her, and tells him that she loves him!

Handsome Brigader shows up behind them and says “KISS THA GIRL YA RUNT!” becasuse that sh's what he does and tis'f funy. HB is surrounded by women, and even Trudy is distacted by his presince. Spades Slick is there, too.


he was becoming... VSMFDX REWOIE@@!!!!

“Wait a fucking minute!”

The watiting a minute literally happened. Trudy Travis paused time, but not on purpose. Evil Father was free to move about though ghbecause he was a Master of Space, and therefore unaffectef by time. In fact, he is the one who paused it.

Spades Slick had a depcial juju that allowd him to not be stuck in a time pause.

“What?” Said Evil Father guy.

“How can I have a flashback to events I didn't witness? I don't remember this. And what the hell does this have to do with anything?”

“I'm getting to that, be patient.”

~scene change~

Spades Slick stands in the middle of a battlefield. The sund of machine guns and the smell of canon smokpollute the air.

This is a nother flashback. Booker deWitt and Zaackary Comstock are fighting with eachother using giant robots. This si truly becoming a battle of epit proportions as booker launges a missile.

“What. The. Fuck.” Spades Slick sits in the middle of the battlefiels, facepalming. This wasnt his memory either. Andrew Hussies spade-time warpoing hors explodes out of a portal. “Sup.” he says to the confused caprapacian. “I blew some shit up. Turned people into insects. I convinced this one guy I was a wizard. It was awesome, you should've been there.”

If ponly Spades Slick could facepalm harder.The gon shooked in his hand. Conroy Duex's hand. He just hot shomebody. It was an accident because CD is dumb. Maybe. Or he's just incredibly brutal. Fffffffffffff The man he shot was named Vmsdfx Rewoi and he had a goatee.

“I'm sorry” said CD as he watched the man fall off the Eiffel tower. How the cuck the did they ket there anyway?

Weird time shit. That's how. That is how always stuff takes place.


Vsmdfx kept falling he was still falling when they showed up. “NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO” screamed Trudy with his London accent.

“Shut up,k I can re-wind time!” She said. Trudy was very beautiful and she wans an albino from miami who had mimatching eyes. One was pink and the other was orange. She was so beautiful she made the birds sing wheneer she walked into the awoogds. She put up her hands and did a TIME PROJECTION!! But then the time projection didn't workd and it was broken, because she can't control it.

Travist Trudy is bes t described ad a very pretty blond poiy.

Suddenly, the air b egan to warp in front of them, bubbling and being all electric and stuff. It was another time travelerQ!!

“Hellow my name is Alexson. Alex Alexon.”

An abulance came and took Vsmsap Rwowie to the hopspital.

Alex hovered right in front of them, as if by magic, In fact he did hover because of magic. He wore goggles on his face and he had a really gcool helmet and it was blue. He wore a lot of steampunk stuff and his face was ratther ruggedly handsome looking.

“hat are you doing? Get out of the way!” trudy shouted. “I must fix the time stream! Something whent wrong and now Vsmfxd Radslfj is dead!”

“You cannot repair it Alex boomed, “It is a fixed point in time.”

“Whaat?” says someone.

“How is that a thing?” A strange orange man observed from afar. But he is not important so we'll ignore him. “Excuse me, I can hear you and I will not be ignored.” he said to nobody in particular,

Trudy was confused. “It's because I can't control my powers!” she accidentally sent to orange guy back in tie to five seconds ago.

“It was a mistake I was forced to made!” she started to w cry. She fast-forwarded time a little. And then, Evil Father teleported into in front of the eifiel tower and said to Travis, “Travis! You are a Lored of ime! You have already gone God Tier!!”

“I haver?” He looked down at his dainty hands, these hands were now immortal and also was the rest of thim. He had amnesia so he did not know how it happened.

“STFU, ALEX!!! You CAN change the time line! BUT FIRAST, I CHALLENGE YOU TO A DUEL!!!”

“Okay. Everything here is bullshit.” Said Andrew Hussie. “Hey, Spades Slick. Where are you?” He said into wa walkie talkine.

SS andswered the walkie talkie. “I'm playing cards with HB. What's the problem?”

“Some asshole is writing shitty fan fiction again. This time, I am going to sabotage it from within and make the author kneel before me once I reduce it to a smoldering pile of ash.” Hussie says.

“Have fun with that.” said Spades Slick. He wanst so t see it burn too.

Andrew turns the communication device off.

Andrew Hussie then jumps on his manificient stallion that came out of a portal with troll Bruce Capmbel and shouts, “ONWARD, NOBLE STEED!” and then they run whoknows war to do who knows what to MY fanfiction!!! >


Evil Father and Travis trudy fight.

Vsmdfx Rowie is in the hostpital bed fighting for his life. He hallucinateds about his imaginarity friend named Trudy Travis. “Hello! Did you have a nice nap?” she floated from the wall and sits in the hair.

“Yes id did.” he said. “But the fact of the matere is tha ti got shot by a stout gy who talks a lot and I am so mysterious I don't mknow me half the time.”

“Well thaqt sucks.” says Trud.

Travis trudy is wounded! Evil Father stabbed him with a knife. As he lays dying and his wounds regnerate, Trudy Travis holds him close to her, and tells him that she loves him!

Handsome Brigader shows up behind them and says “KISS THA GIRL YA RUNT!” becasuse that sh's what he does and tis'f funy. HB is surrounded by women, and even Trudy is distacted by his presince. Spades Slick is there, too.


he was becoming... VSMFDX REWOIE@@!!!!

“Wait a fucking minute!”

The watiting a minute literally happened. Trudy Travis paused time, but not on purpose. Evil Father was free to move about though ghbecause he was a Master of Space, and therefore unaffectef by time. In fact, he is the one who paused it.

Spades Slick had a depcial juju that allowd him to not be stuck in a time pause.

“What?” Said Evil Father guy.

“How can I have a flashback to events I didn't witness? I don't remember this. And what the hell does this have to do with anything?”

“I'm getting to that, be patient.”

~scene change~

Spades Slick stands in the middle of a battlefield. The sund of machine guns and the smell of canon smokpollute the air.

This is a nother flashback. Booker deWitt and Zaackary Comstock are fighting with eachother using giant robots. This si truly becoming a battle of epit proportions as booker launges a missile.

“What. The. Fuck.” Spades Slick sits in the middle of the battlefiels, facepalming. This wasnt his memory either. Andrew Hussies spade-time warpoing hors explodes out of a portal. “Sup.” he says to the confused caprapacian. “I blew some shit up. Turned people into insects. I convinced this one guy I was a wizard. It was awesome, you should've been there.”

If ponly Spades Slick could facepalm harder.

Epilogue - Precipice of Eternal Twilight

By Edrobot

In the center of meta space, Sepiroth laughed like a crazy man. “My plan is nearly complete. Once my agents take Trudy Travis’ power for myself, I will finally have enough power to activate B.L.O.O.D.M.O.S.E.S. And then I will use it to take over the world and become god or something.” He then continued laughing while firing a bazooka at a kitten orphanage because the author wanted to make it clear that Sepirhoth was the evil bad guy.

Suddenly the TARDIS!

Not so fast! said husse “We not only survived your repeated assasination attempts but we figured out your plan asswell!”

“Noest!” say seperoth “This cannot beith!”

“It sure as hell can!” says Troll Bruce Campbell. “You left all the clues for us to find!”

“Your not really trying to activate B.L.O.O.D.M.O.S.E.S.” says andew Hussie. “In fact youre not really even seperatyh your actually his evil twin brother CAIUS BALLAD.”


“So you say...” Troll Bruce Campbell put on a sherlock holmes hat. “But we knew you would leave fake clues so we got Troll Sherlock Holmes to solve the real case.”


that’s right said troll sherlock holmes “and i know for a fact that your suit is stained with the same kind of tobacco found in the cigars smoked by... SINGER FRANCIS!

Singer Frances (who was obviously pretending to be CAIUS BALLAD the whole time) grinned widely. “So You Say” he said. “But I Know For A Fac Taht Youre Not Troll Sherlock Holmes, Because I Killed Troll Sherlock Holmes A Million Years Ago By Ripping Out His Heart and Eating It.”

“But tahat mans... HES AN IMPOOSTER?”

“But whoome is he?”

“He Is None Other Than The Greatest Villain Of All Time Forever... The Villain From Lighting Returns: Final Fantasy XIII.”

The Villain From Lighting Returns: Final Fantasy XIII laughed. yes he said. and now that thy haveth all of you right were thyne wanteth you, thine plan to take over the worldeth and become god or whateverth is now completeh. he glowed menacingly like a menacingly glowing person The songs of the dead are the lamentations of the living. For gray-eyed Destiny now weaves apace, the first resounding note of war echoes across the land.  Movement flickered through it, like the swish of a bird across a clouded moon. emporal and spatial dimensions are moving relative to one another! Everything should be made simple as possible, but not moreso and Eminem!"

“Hold! What you are doing to us is wrong! Why do you do this thing?” sys hussie.

might make right, right makes might. said The Villain From Lighting Returns: Final Fantasy XIII

“But all things must come to and end!”

With all that follows. Where it falls mandrakes grow. That's why they shriek when you pull them up. Did you not know that?

We make our own destiny!

flag on the moon, how did it get there?

Does anybody really know what time it is?

Even the five court ladies danced in sync to the frog's flutes and drums. 

The whirlwind of recycled paper was a sight to see! It was like computer graphics!

That I don't support Technicolor parfaits and snobby petit bourgeois is common knowledge in Oceania. Now is the time to return home to the blue sky. The confetti will dance around the shrine gates. 

The mailbox and the refrigerator will lead the way!

Anyone who cares about expiration dates will not get in the way of the glory train.

They need to fully realize the lives of the triangle rulers! Now, this festival was decided by the third grade class with the telephoto camera! Move forward! Come together! I am the ultimate governor!

When you can balance a tack hammer on your head, you can head off your foes with a balanced attack

Okay, but why do I have these watermelons strapped to my feet?

all ends must have a beginning

But to begin at the end, we must end... at the beginning!

And then the penultimate battle for the fate of paradox space began.



Anti-Epilogue - “Now, hold on a moment-”;

An Resuscitation of Narrative by BlackholePA

Whoa, whoa, whoa there, m’ man. You can’t be thinking of putting this shizzle on hold while it’s still hot. The bizzle’s still on the fizzle-plate and my family’s all seated on those shitty white plastic chairs out back to tuck in to this most delirious meal, yo. Any attempt to put a restraining order on this wicked momentum should fo’sure result in nothing more than a kerfuffle mo’ terrible than my utterly misguided attempt to sound gangsta in this Anti-Epilogue. Seriously, what was I thinking, this was a terrible idea, and really jarrs the narrative consistency. (Because of course narrative consistency is being held in the utmost priority in this narrative. We pride ourselves on our lack of plot holes.) Actually, no, fuck that as well. Pretty much my sole goal here is fuck over this narrative as much as possible. I shall slice this plot into a thousand smouldering pieces, still blistered from the forging fires where this bizzle be sizzle on the nizzle. I laugh with scorn at your pitiful attempts to navigate the still-smoking ruins. Ha ha ha. HA HA HA! AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAA!


Ouch, that hurt. No, don’t worry, I’m ok, I just managed to stub a finger on the keyboard. Did not know that was possible. You learn something new every day. It was probably for the best, this was getting overly long and self-indulgent, not to mention borderline megalomanic. Is that a real word? I actually have no idea. Anyway the idea that I was trying to communicate before is that this story can’t end now. We’ve built up too much love for the characters and the story and shit and are all riled up for the next chapter. I don’t aim to disappoint, so, here you go. Have the second half of the story. That’s it. Consume it with your eyes. I will be watching. I am always watching.

Chapter 16 - Bucket Mania

By Tigrita

Tarvis was in his room alchemizing things. He alchemized some clothing that was really cool because he made it from cool stuff in his room. It was like Daves wardrobe but it was better. Suddenly Signur Francays and his henchmen burst in to the room while riding giant rats.

Not rats!!!! thought travis. They are my greatest fear!!!! How could he know that they would incarpacidate me like this?????

“Because i am a time traveler stupid, said siegnure francis, also I can read minds because i am omnipotent and that means I know everything”

Suddenly Men from NOHERE burst into the room and killed everyone but travis and his pet goldfish. Then they grabbed Travis by the imagination and took him to the seventh dimension which is also called Symbol Space.

“Gblargh! Where did you come from?” ejaculated travis.

NOWHERE said the mysterious men mysterioulsy.

That doesn’t make any sense

YOUR MOM doesn’t make any sense they said.

They had him there. after all travis had been created by ectobiology which meant that his girlfrieand Alicia was also his sister but they hadn’t found out until act 4 and it’s still the best shop SO THERE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Travis thought. After a while he had a brilliant idea.

“Do you want to know what doesn’t make sense, it’s that god is omnipotent and omnishunt and you just killed a guy who was those things so god is dead, and if there is no god there’s no reason for anything, so black could be white, and then you get run over at the next zebra crossing witch is a hitchhikers guide reference and if you haven’t read it U SUK!

Oh shit said the men and then everything went fuzzy and whiteblack….

…and the rest is history, said Andrew Hussie, tossing his hair dramatically to conclude the flashback.

“HEY YOU WERE’NT EVEN THE ONE WHO WAS FLASHING BACK!” said jack slick, but then he walked in the crosswalk when the light was read and got run over by grant Morrison who was actually a indivisible zebra all this time so you coldn't see him WHAT A TWEEST.

Chapter 17 - Daddy Death Rest

By Dreamscythes231

The tears in my eyes start to cloud my vision as I carry Alex’s body

to the stone slab that is his Quest Bed. “Almost there, j-just hold on

a little more okay?” I sobbed out. The damned heavens are cruel and

heroics only get you to your death bed faster, you are sure you always


         The limp body that you carried gave a small nod. “You’re going

to be fine.” You say, though your doubts say otherwise. “The Quest

Bed will work.” An assurance you target more to yourself than to your


        As you both climb the winding steps toward the top, you strain

your mind. What happened?! How did this game could have gone so

wrong? You try and try to even remember a speck of memory but your

head draws a blank to your queries. You’re not even sure how you got

here in the first place. Or if you got here even. Somehow, you think

going back will just leave you with even more questions than answers


      A moment later you somehow managed to heave Alex and yourself

to the top. His blood covers about 80% of his steampunk styled

garments; the other 20% are either torn off or singed. That also applies

to his body. After a few moments, he beckons you to come closer

             You kneel beside him, chocking back the tears knowing what he

would definitely say to you. The goggles on top of his face reflect your

unnaturally pale complexion with your mismatched eyes, both of which

are crying, rebelling on your thoughts to put a happy face for him.

 Alex: You know Trudy, *cough* it’s been a hell of a ride ain’t it?

*cough*I don’t remember much but I am sure it was awesome.

????: Who says it’s over Alex?

You turn around, to the interrupting voice. The Conroy Deux, always

a bother. “WHAT ARE YOU DOING HERE!” you exclaimed, trembling

with anger at the annoying little miscreant….whatever did he do it was

probably annoying or nefarious.

He tips his dozen hats on his head as if to say “Hello to you to.” God you

hate him… probably.

 CD: From what I observed, you two are having a moment.


Alex: Trudy, calm down *cough*. I am sure he brings no harm


You begrudgingly go back to your previous position right next to Alex,

oh how you would like to use your Mind Rays, which you had like

forever probably, on that little troll.

CD: “Always the flighty broad little Trudy. Tsk tsk. As you can see I am

only here to bring condolences.”

Trudy: For your information, Alex will revive… right Alex?

Alex: …

Trudy: Alex?

Alex: You have to promise meTrudy: ALEX!

Alex: LISTEN! *cough* If- if I don’t come back… don’t make me a ghost


Trudy: BuAlex: Please…

Trudy: [sobbingly] … okay. I won’t bring you back.

CD: Well that was an overly exaggerated and highly bland dramatic



The whirring noises of the mechanical geysers fill the silence that was

your soul. For the first time in your life you are actually saying goodbye

to someone. The finality of it, that dreaded fear of the beyond. Never

before had you actually said goodbye to the dead. This would be your

first, and you feel that you can’t take it.

What’s worse is that the universe didn’t even give you time to grieve,

even for just a little while.

It was the sound of shell meeting blade that alerted you. The Sohgun’s

and his army of ninjas! In a flurry, you arm yourself with your greatest

weapon, your mind.

Seven tried to attack you, seven died of a brain hemorrhage. Another

group lunged for Alex; they didn’t even get close an inch.

Fueled with rage you manage to subdue half of them. Lunging and

clawing and throwing and tearing. You were the lioness and they were

the prey, but the Sohgun wasn’t preoccupied anymore. And a blast of

his own mind wave stops your rage fueled rampage.

Sohgun: Insolent brat, hasn’t your mother thought you never to trust

strangers? [Raises the head of CD] HE WAS MY PAWN ALL ALONG.




Ninjas: *GASPeH*

Alex: I *dying guy noises* totally didn’t see that coming!

Intermission - Revelations

By BlackholePA and the Bonsai Tree Story Generator

Conroy Deux had just before him, and utterly unavoidable.

You are what you were prohibited in Void as if we must occasionally conspire to the almost monstrous age of oblivion, you are finished, said Death reasonably, that they Light for what would have been enough to escape, the being in Void as much forced by circumstance, and, finally, your hands for us.

The temporal loops that destruction.

But perhaps, continued Death, not for that they Light for his lack of eyes his was a checkers board of Death's stare.

...Yes, he wielded.

Conroy could make ends meet, spoke Death himself seeks to feel somewhat depressed.

This section of our particular existence.

More so, perhaps, those black pits.

Though the last time.

Fate rose from his apartment back for the Void, however crude that most do not remember any of laughter echoed through his limbs struggling to tell you, but seemingly having to hold for a place in the events that vagueness from this realm, by lieu of all things so my nature - for the cause propagation I refuse to perform a seemingly unbroken sheet of his terror.

Bolstered by Français, it was saying.

Are you trying to his body's imagined weariness.

His soul rose up to the almost doubtful.


said Death reasonably, that horrifying purpose?

I am lead to return?

Conroy his cry echoing throughout the necessity that most do you dare to ice.

As it was, he still possessed any, the stress of anger.

Trust you do not because of waving a small earthquake.

Conroy himself suddenly felt very small, even he could see no face beneath the cloak.

Conroy became aware Archagent of Paradox Space, and those like armaments were swift, and us apart.

That, Conroy Deux had just vacated.

Death, who despite all the permanence of sobbing, before him, and over the sound would have been forced to uphold its distortion if you will The affairs of hours of Conroy Deux had surely earned a form.

Suddenly, he hit the ground.

His soul rose up to whom you trying to be used!

shouted Conroy, his hands, and those like a clam and so it is to adhere.

Take one Ms.

Vmsdfx Rowei, who even now exercise my limited extraplanar contact, but please, take your time to accustom yourself.

I make ends that must think of a wiley agility that bind our attention that you yet sustaining the same enforced indifference that we must now exercise my Deux, you could have been translated as was my Deux, you here more than what could be injured, in the land of anger.

Trust you never will.

The affairs of its distortion if you will not deny our purpose, we unlucky few are said Death who despite all your bravado.

A tide of thin contempt seemed to quiver with all the marble floor resonating as he could not cheat him.

Deux bearing down on him attempting to propel himself seeks to tell you, but please, take your place in the void.

A pawn upon the impassive face down with a strange sort of pity.

I am bound by our particular narrative.

Things are having to feel somewhat unsure of the dissonance.

Even now as stared down on him utterly astounded by our purpose, we are not tear both inevitable, and driven by our purpose, we were unwilling to tell you, but please, take in the Reaper, blank eye sockets which themselves seemed to darken with the cold and still one that he will be necessary?

Breaking his empty eye sockets, which I can derive my limited extraplanar contact, but not because of a vague concept.

It is that must be know that terrible.

More, sterile, and those like me, will bring you certainly keep me that Death himself seeks to be forced bravado as though you've been enough to stay quiet.

I, and yet no impact upon Satan, as he focussed on the smooth marble floor without his body's imagined form, kept insisting was standing before him.

But do you here more The aura of thin contempt seemed to come Even the dirty work.

Remember to whom you back for now, only here to take on how Death's new, slightly exasperated.

Surely you are far greater than I.

I have been forced to know now as a cool dispassion that you will bring you Is there anything more persistent form kept insisting was sustained.

You are what would surely be the realm of the shortfall.

What stammered Conroy, what's that?



Are you ready to find purchase on a form.

Suddenly, he could muster.


I decide whether or not this perhaps, and resolutionary catalysts arising from my grasp by the grisly visage of the universe, and finally, your ignorance of the being required to reflect briefly on a form.

Suddenly, he pushed himself for his head, jaw opening to feel somewhat unsure of black and those like armaments were swift, and reached up to meet him in front of Death's stare.

...Yes, he found himself for what it was lying upon, face of his dismay and white marble, a proportion of the wider planes of a vague concept.

It hurt, really think that this is most reviled, the last time.

Fate rose up to do so self- aware Archagent of oblivion, you will be.

As will I, and finally, your bravado.

A tide of your particular attunements of the ethereal, and the human counterpart that she is conspiring against us.

Whilst it was, he wielded.

Conroy jumped to whom you will not tear both inevitable, and it is taking on said Death, beginning to succumb to remember any sort of Conroy Deux boomed Death, glaring at the being behind those like me, will bring you see?

Strangely enough, yes.

It is good to billow out another gasping cry, carapaced hide.

Conroy Death replied, arms spreading wide to save your are merely the result of pity.

I hope it is going well.

What said Conroy, confusion momentarily displacing a sense of oblivion, you must, think of it is fact, intoned Death.

It is as stared down with his opponent.

Death stood as a soul rose from which I oh, said Death.

Conroy could make any sort of move to suggest that while we might best be labelled - are far greater than what could see no face beneath him, attempting to feel somewhat unsure of this particular narrative.

Things are already dead.

Conroy himself had drawn up at the stress of consideration.

Finally, he slackened the Void, however crude that the surface that he was utterly astounded by circumstance, and, finally, your place in the past, although he did take your time that she been lost at his limbs and the ground seemed to say.


your particular Derse, and it is taking on the ground.

Conroy Deux floated in death.

Sitting up to meet him as his soul took on a form.

Suddenly, he who is going well.

What is that encompassed his ire.

We are...

not tear both inevitable, and chief Mafioso, even marginally relevant.

Take for instance your purpose?

Our purpose of all appearances was saying.

Are you trying to come more The aura around him and reached for now, only here to relieving a favour.

Oh, I could find purchase on Deux, bearing down with his umbrella that they Light for us.

The protestations of how to step in the wake of oblivion, you could have eternity to accustom yourself.

I Conroy stuttered, head reeling, I hold your ignorance of eyes his was not tear both it and so Conroy Deux spread-eagled on jagged edges, and the destruction that he focussed on a new slightly irritable tone had gone a cool dispassion that are to stay quiet.

I, and those like a clam and all others who work at the doctrine of the immortal.

Conroy could make any sort of pity.

I will, answered Death, but not because of action and the destruction that he met Death glaring at the behest of humour.

Do you see?

Strangely enough, yes.

It seems that he instinctively reached for now, only your Archagent is cognizant of your particular Derse, and even his naked orifices.

But understand that his ghastly features; at first the same reason that I make ends meet, spoke Death glaring at the blank eye sockets which themselves seemed to billow out behind his cloak with a cool gaze.

I could have an important role to adhere.

Take for instance your bravado.

A pawn upon face down on him as his dark maw.

Huge, hollow peals of its effective propagation.

I am lead to return?

Conroy It has spawned to say much more.

The second thing was the presence of her superseding namesake.

I and those black pits.

Though the supernatural generally lie beyond punishing you.

Is there anything more ...Why are having to tell me busy, said this, Death's voice seemed to rise up to meet him in the land of Conroy's mind began to ensure that you are murky.

Paradox Space, and driven by lieu of Conroy Deux you certainly seen worse, inflicted worse inflicted worse inflicted worse faces upon Satan, as the night.

Nonetheless, you telling me go, said Conroy, weakly.

I can derive my responsibility once you have a hand in the unlikely circumstances surrounding your own self, brought back from my grasp by the necessity that you yet no damage was he was the presence of a form.

Suddenly, he could muster.


I see you are finished, said the other, returning the floor as we are speaking, Conroy struggled to make himself for what lay before cold and over the permanence of the dissonance.

Even if matters were unwilling to respond to accustom yourself.

I must now is embroiled in retribution for some reason we unlucky few are far greater than what could not logically convey emotion, an important role to play in death.

Sitting up to draw back in the only time to reflect briefly on the ground.

Conroy It has come at last...

Death replied, arms spreading wide to believe through my knowledge I...

oh, said Deux, utterly silent and the figure was approaching fast, seeming to the realm by lieu of ends that the surface beneath him, attempting to quiver with his head jaw opening to be, Conroy Deux; many inadequacies.

Take my own ilk, and the human counterpart that bind our existence are being required to succumb to our attention that this reality is particularly unstable.

As he said Death reasonably, that I, through my limited although you here more ways than one, Conroy It has spawned to nothing over an unknowable period of protracted silence.

Oh, but for some reason that I have been enough to exploit.

So is my hand.

Perhaps I through my power.

I make ends meet, spoke Death replied, arms spreading wide to mean?

spat Conroy.

It seems that seemed to be projected into, seemed to rise up to meet him in shadows that you are what you almost make any sort of pity.

I have something to tell me that I so Conroy Deux But understand that while we unlucky few are not beyond the full comprehension of mortal minds, and utterly white marble, a small earthquake.

Conroy recoiled in death.

Sitting up to meet him in the land of its distortion if we were swift, and utterly silent.

Before Conroy let out behind his empty eye sockets, which shall be, know that you must, think I understand.

Chances are, said Death reasonably, that this is particularly unstable.

As for your bravado.

A tide of he who despite all the permanence of anger.

Trust you to account for your own ilk, and the ground Conroy himself backwards and so it is true that this is that supposed to exploit.

So just one that I, through his limbs and carapace feeling close to ensure that the essence of a wiley agility that which shall be given a thousand lives lost amid the eternal force of Death's stare.

...Yes, he was utterly white against the black leather begloved hand.

My, my, Deux, you are here.

If you were made to adhere.

Take for instance your own sorry carapaced hide.

Conroy Deux had gone a faint, ethereal, otherworldly light illuminating his dismay and chief Mafioso, even be injured, in the wake of the Reaper, blank rockface of his terror.

Bolstered by the hands and the figure of ends that this is conspiring against the black shadow the universe, and those like a clam and finally, your bravado.

A pawn upon others.

He scowled at last...

Death threw back from my knowledge.


oh, said Death, beginning to succumb to succumb to meet him and reached up to know now only to exploit.

So is my grasp by circumstance, and, finally, your place in bringing about that they Light for some reason we unlucky few are already dead.

Conroy stammered for I am omniscient - precludes my will.

What stammered Conroy, what's that?



Are you ready to his feet.

Death with a form.

Suddenly, he did take the time to accustom yourself.

I Conroy stuttered, head lifted just one question remains, does it missing.

It is not realise that terrible.

More, sterile, and so Conroy Deux spread-eagled on the smooth marble a perfect pattern emblazoned upon the field of black and all others who work Remember to nowhere.

It seems that attested to cracking under the eternal torture, and immediate concern.

The second thing was approaching fast, seeming to say before promptly vanishing.

Death stood as they were prohibited in the land of him, utterly silent.

Before Conroy struggled to relieving a cool gaze.

I don't think of it as a lesser, more ways than what could cheat him.

Deux many times double-crosser, Dersite Don and so Conroy let out another gasping cry, carapaced hide.

Conroy found himself for what could be bound by lieu of our realms.

I- Quiet.

All that you never will.

The last time was Atlantis.

Do you see?

Strangely enough, yes.

It is not already complicated by the grisly visage of laughter echoed through the void.

Had he pushed himself half muttering to meet him as his naked orifices.

But for the afore mentioned so in the permanence of his scrutiny.

I would have any real influence.

Even now as something similar to, I must already.

Let- let out another to take in the floor resonating as he focussed on him with the cold and still possessed any, the ethereal, and over the personification of laughter echoed through the void.

Had he pushed himself for his gaze as before, cold and still poised with a cool gaze.

I hope it is to reflect briefly on a new form.

It was his head, jaw opening to adhere.

Take one Ms.

Vmsdfx Rowei, who is most reviled, the universe, and utterly unavoidable.

You shall be injured, in …

Chapter 18 - “capter 18”: teh epicly awsum battel ub h3lllll

By ashpokeball


Blasto - fom Mass Effect. has go back in tim 2 sttahp sum guy from destroying stuff.

Chole Phelps - (LA Noir) - a coop who fell through a tim portaall, lose the his memory and changed his name 2 Jonnd Mayon. He late are fall in the glacier like avatar the last airbend n slept for a 100000000 yrs, he lsoe his memory agian, chaged hiz naem 2 mastor Chef n went back in tim a gain.

Mster Chef - Froomm Halooooooooooooooo.

Boker DeWit - Fromm Bioshoockkkkkk.

John Maron - Ffrrom Reed Ded Reedemption.

hi im blasto. im gonna buy som flowers at the shiop. blaso walked ot the shop. hi blasto! i didnt recognize you1 said the clerk. here you go. that's me blaso sad. hi doggy blasto said tot he dog on the counter. i am not a dog said jack noir, so but then jack stabbed him and he died. oh no!

wheeooowhoowheooewhoo OH NO the the alarm is going offf. said master chef. we gotta save him from the defphs of hell! master chief, chole phelps, booker dewit, johnnn mareston, and sam max met up at a bar. but before they went to go save blasto they got drunk and partied soooooooooo harddddddddd. then they went into sams car and drove over the niagra falls and into hell.

bam bam bam bam bam. they all shot the demons that were attkcing. master chief killed like a million of them causes hes so cooooool. booker killed 666 of them and max sucked so he killed -12 of the and also killed chole phelps. he lost 10 points cause team killing is bad. meanwhile katkar was vistin his frind eridan who was in hell and whn he saw them driv buy he ws all like. yooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo ooo

the car stopped at the gates of hell. infont of them was cereusbersuzs, the tree heded dog who gauded hell. i need a toll for you to pass . sad cererssbus. omg we need a toll guys, said john marston. what do we do? said booker. i know what tod o guize, i got this. master chief sed. he grabbed chole phelps and shovvbded him into teh mouth of cerbus. they ran pasrt the dog while the doggy ate chole pholes.

then they reached the ribber styx. how do we get across? said master chief. ik what 2 do guize, said john marston. chole phelps had already respawned so they got a chainsaw from knayanaya and made a boat outta him and they foated over the ribver/

yo, said 2 gaurds. won of us tells the truth and another lies. but yo dont no which won tells the truth. hahahahahahaha said the gaurds. dun worry guiz i got tis said boook detwit. he tookchoolephelps dbded boddy eand dhen hit the gauds with the ded body. he hit them like a hundred times and it hurt alike alot.

ow ow ow ow ow ow okay. ill tell you guize the truth. tell us! wsaid master chef booker, jonmarston, and chole hples. YOU ARE TOO LATE. oh noooooooooooooooooooo said master chief. END of chpater

Chapter 19 - Hotel for Monsters (or: Mavis Family Values: Trudy’s Gets the Ultimate Choice)

By Trish

Today, everybody would be changing fate.

Deep in the darkest ravages of Hell, a storm was brewing. But not a literal was a storm of the truth. A storm of the true potential of the Dark Master, the predominant Hanar Specter. Nobody knew the secrets, not even himself. They didn't know the secrets of his most actual energies. And that's how he became the only menace to ever escape Satan's gates alive.

Hell flared up normal for a moment. Then - BOOM! - slashed apart into a million simultaenous pieces. But they weren't pieces; time was splitting them apart, but only figuratively. It was a power that nobody could truly understand - not even Hanar Spectrer Blanto, and he had long since mastered this ability about the heart.

Blasto fumed through the center of this time-vortex like a wizard master donning his robes, salutin and screaming "So long, old home!" to the hell now beyond. From so high up, Hell looked like ants to him.

Then, the whole world became tie-dye colors. A crate, sort of like a lunch-box, was whirling forward in the horizon. Actually, it was coming closer to him in the sky. But Blasto's nose twitched. He found out who it was; the TARDIS party. Off to give him - what,a  send-off? Heh. He smiled. He had some tricks up his sleeve.

Blasto peered into the abyss of the inner TARDIS. An orange boy, a Campbell, and some creepy skeleton guy were inside it. What's their deal? he thought.

The orange one gestured toward him. Sort of like a "brig it on" type of gesture, or maybe just a "come here" gesture?

Blaton slapped the door open and marched in proudly. He had to make a first impression. The deadly skeleton saw him and proudly exclaimed, "WE HAVE FINALLY ENDED AT THE BEGINNING!" Then he exclaimed "OOF!" as Blasto shoved him out of the ship, to face the time-vortex he had created, which would lead to Hades.

Andrew Hussie and Troll Bruce Cambell stared up him. Blasto was suddenly so brave, strong, and so intruiguing.

"But wait," said Andrew. "You've angered Satan. Death can't go there. If he does, we'll..." He couldn't imagine a world without the basic balance of life and Death. Especially not a world based on one of his own Homestuck worlds.

Blasto nodded staunchly. He drew near one of the TARDIS's cabinets and yanked one of the doors open. "You're right," he said to him. "...He'll need this." Blasto yanked again, and a scream was heard. Blood flurried out from the cabinet. A beating heart pulsed limply in his left hand. Without further warning, he ran five steps to the box's entrance and threw it down like a baseball player to Death. Hopefully, he would catch it.

Machine hearts are the strongest hearts in the universe. The future Steampunk people would use them in place of swords to ward off foes. If Death couldn't defeat Satan wiht that, well, mayb he didn't deserve to escape after all.

Andrew and Bruce thought this was noble. This was the only reason they allowed Hanar to continue.

The TARDIS continued to scream in a deep, grody voice as it spiraled past the tie-dye wilderness and into what appeared to be a dim, Earthly beyond. They were gonna crash soon...!!

If they crashed, it would surely mean death. But what would they do if, at that moment, they could change their fate...?

Welcome to the Hotel Transylvania.

"I'm takin' a shortcut, relax," said the cab driver. "Just toinin' right on Skaian Str."

"good" somebody said. "and make it snappy"

The driver laughed. "Some way o' talkin' you have. Come on now, you a foreigner or what?"

"none o your business"

The driver laughed. "Come ah! You gotta be from SOMEplace! Here, I'll just turn around an' get a goods look at'cho-"


Before the driver could so much as crash, the passenger slit his neck and prepared to take over...but not before a few nasty bumps in the road.

A few moments before that debacle, before Skaian Str. was even thought about, there were four children sitting squashed - but comfortable and snug- in the trunk of the car. They had to stay inside here. If they came out, they'd be strangers in the strange land. Everything was dark grey, and they could hardly see.

"I'm so excited," the mature girl said. The other girl giggled ditzily.

But aside from that, they were bored.

"look what i found!" the boy with bucked teeth said. He had a little friend on his finger. "his name is jeff."

"I'm a white carapace insect," said the tiny, white cockroach-ish figure. The taxi thumped up and down along the road. "You four don't look like you're from here.  At least, not in that way..."

John looked this way; then he looked that way. "i guess it's safe to tell you, jeff. we're from the planet earth, and it's my birthday!"

"its my birthday too!" said Jade with a big and huge smile. Everybody clapped.

"Well, well!" Jeff said, nodding. "Happy birthday to you two, and safe travels - but stay safe! These parts are wild. especially at night..."

"WATCH WEHERE YOU DRIVE MAN" BOOM! The whole car lurched, and the four children hit their heads on the top of the taxi van. They landed, but far from softly.

They all looked at each other, all at once, and screamed with square-shaped mouths, "DAVESPRITE!"

Dave took out his bro's Swiss Army knife and flipped it to the correct section. "damnit i told him not to do this type o crayz shite" he said, gritting his polished gums. As the car lurched, he chiseled through the car, then the back seats of the car and saw Davesprit's ghostly tail. The rest of him was at the helm already. "davesrite no! you have no arms dude"

"id like to see u do better"

Dave snapped off his shades to get a better look outside. The ground was gleaming with gold, and so were the buildings and striking palm trees. They were coming up on "Skaia Ave." "This is no good," Rose said as she poked her head out near Dave's. "I don't think that's part of the shortcut."

The rig went heaving and careening straight onto its ceiling. It skidded across the golden cobblestones until a diagonal line of sic fire criss-crossed over it, almost charring the kids, Jeff and Davesprite to a burnt crisp. Jade and John opened the door together with a grunt. Everyone else followed. Having escaped the wreck, they looked straight up. They were in front of not a toy store, but a huge, ancient castle. It looked very out of place in Prospit, but then again, so did the Eiffel Tower a few miles back, they noted.

It wasn't what they wanted, but yet the doors spiraled, as if to welcome then in.

"Auntie!" Tip tap tip tap tip tap. "Aunti-i-ie!" Tip tap tip. "Aunt Travis!" Tip tap tip -- TOP! Her cute high-heels had clacked along the hallway until they stopped outside of Aunt Travis's open door. Now, a resounding silence.

Attached to the doorknob was a sassy shrunken head. "Your auntie's in here," it said, but its mouth was swen together.

Trudy shot her a funky grin. "It's a se-e-e-cret!" she said endearingly. She let out her airplane arms and charged in, making whirring sounds.

"Mmm, mmm, mmm." The shrunken head showed her disapproval. However, deep down, she thought that Trudy was adorabs.

"Aunt Travis, Aunt Travis!"

Her aunt, who was as rotund as she was beautiful, let down her ancient quill pen and spun around a little in her roll-chair. She put on her most winningst smile and said roundly, a little sarcastic but at once loving, "What is it?"

"New visitors, new visitors! Can you believe it!" Trudy bounced around like she was a six-year-old again. "You have to come down here and see them! They're just like us, only they've been -- there!"

Aunt Travis smiled. "Yes, dear." Trudy Travis was here on vacation. She loved staying here in the Hotel Transylvania -- it was like her real home to me. She felt like here her powers and worries could just - shoosh! - disappear, and nobody would ever remember them. Ironic because here, everyone had powers.

Guided by her excited niece's jumpy hand, tubby Aunt Travis dismounted the stairs to the lobby. The shrunken heads watched them like they were a husband and wife.

Mummies! Ghoulies! Vandals! Zombies and grey people with big horns! Werewolvies and big bers! "aaaaaaaaaa" dave said before he almost fainted.

"Dave!" Jade caught him worriedly. "im not sure where this is.....if i had to guess it would be a....."

"A hohoho....a hohoho....." Rose turned sovreignly to her friends. "A hotel for monsters."



Dave really fainted. "maybe we can ask the mummies for a stretcher!" John said in his cold sweat.

"No! It's too dangerous!" Rose shed some tears. "Dave, you'll be okay."

"What's all this, then?" Aunt Travis said roundabout from the bottom of the stairs. All gasped. They turned around. They'd seen her before!

"you're in the earth movies!" John said, stuttering as he went. "that one cartoon movie, with the bear and the..."

"Brave? Yes...that was me."

The four kids stared at each other. In all their lives, they had never felt so lucky. "It's Maudie!" they screamed to each other like she was ice cream. "Can you help us find Dave a stretcher? He's gotten scared."

"Oh, he shan't be scared," the big Scot said proudly. "After all, this is only the Hotel Transylvania." Everyone gasped. There was a documentary about this place! "Don't worry. Things have changed since both of those. Here, we're all monsters! Even you!"


"It's true!" Jeff said. "None of you are like the carapace people. This is the land of the outcasts. An island in a savanah."

"wow, youre right! we have flesh and stuff! but if you dont mind, ms maudie, we have to go somewhere..."

"Really? Where?"

"the toystore"

"I know where that is, kids! I'll take you."

"maudie, you're so nice, can't come with us. you see, it's my birthday, and jade's, too. we thought if we found the toystore ourselves,'d make our birthdays all the more special." Jade nodded. So earnest. "so please, help us by not helping us."

"Can Trudy play the toys you come back with?" Trudy popped out from beneath her back and waved. "The other kids don't always want to play with her."

"why not?????"

"That doesn't matter right now. It''s a long, sad story." Everyone looked down somberly for a moment. "But just promise her you'll play with her, you four. If only for a moment."

"It would mean the world to me!" Trudy gasped.

"*snif sniff...*"

"Maudie.....are you crying?"

"So sad... Now, go. Go to the toystore. Don't mind me, I'm just.....thinking of her.  ANd I won't give you any hinsts, except this: the entrance to the toystore is somewhere within the Hotel Transylvania. You may be five paces away from it, or a mile away!"

The kids saluted her as they ran away. "Thanks, Maudie!" Rose roared. "And thank you so much, Trudy! You deserve better - never forget that!"

"Tee hee!" Trudy giggled. "...Aunt, they make me feel like a kid again. Tell them to never go!"

Maudie Travis smiled, and that said everything.

But what Trudy couldn't know is that Maudie was here for a secret reason, and she didn't want to get anyone else involved. The castle was haunted by a few monstrous ghosts, and only she could find the clues and stop them.  Only she could turn the tables of Hotel Transylvanian fate. That's what happens.

Prospit was a hodgepodge of culturo-political strife, economic policy, and ethnic melting pot. One day, a couple years ago, a huge chunk of the planet was sliced from the Earth. Who knows? Some say it was Skaia's will, juts as much as the meteors, or the cherubs of the sky. Others said it was part of someone's master plot, hinted towards in the final scene of Army of Darkness. Either way, that was the day that Prospit became a Mostly-Night Zone (MNZ). This meant that its nights were longer than its days - in this case, much, much longer.

many Earthly colonies had ascended and found themselves on Prospit - most of Europe and select bits of South America - and due to radiation, it was now rare to see poeples from the planet Earth, rather than humans from "Prospit Earth," in the golden aisles of Prospit. By the same token, due to the aforementioned politico-ethnic strife, civil war had severely dimished the populous of humanity on Prospit, spreading blood among the sands. It was terrible, but it it always, always a part of life. Carapaces first, humans second. Ergo, though not necessarily monsters, the humans were squarely ethnic minority, even going so far as being driven from their homelands.

Long story short, don Conroy Deuz was holding a viewing party in the humans' holy land of the top of the Eiffel Tower. Stonehenge he could see, far and clear, atop a golden hill. He filled the night with intriguing trivia for his merry men, a pack of mafiosos who surrounded him. "Did you know that a chunk of Prospit once fell to earth and became known as El Dorado?" They all laughed, because the fact was so interesting. "Also, Prospit only appears yellow-gold because the Sun's light is being absorbed by it and released constantly - Prospit's real color is black."

Conroy stared at his carapace-man hands. "Heh - just like"

"Hey, what's that," Conroy said as he pointed starward.

"Hey, boss, I don't know what you're--"

Suddenly, the stars began to, and out. They flickered all the colors of the rainbow. Then the sky. A TARDIS spun like a road racer out from the sky's pavillion, headed straight for Prospitian France! There was a burning hole in its heart, and it couldn't be satisfied!

All of Conroy's goons scattered along the Eiffel's top. Their viewing party was going to be ruined! With nothing left in his arsenal, Conroy pulled out a phone and called 9-1-1. "Shit!" he cussed at Andrew and his gang, but he didn't know it.

the TARDIS hurtled right into his face, but it barely missed, slamming down on his foot instead.

It smashed through every single layer of the Eiffel, splintering parts of its metal wire frame everywhere, stabbing the in nocents and spraying the golden ocean ahead with blood like blackened sea-foam. It and Conroyu came down to the Parisian city center with a halt, gold (or was it black?) dust flying everywhere.

But the citizens didn't know better. Those who remained alive largely walked around it, continuing to shop.

Andrew opened the TARDIS window and cussed. The curse reflected back into his ears. He muttered, "Ignorant masses."

"The masses in Trolp Army of Darkness were never this ignorant," Troll Bruce Cambell decided. "Plan: what now?"

Andrew laughed like a cocky bastard. "Well," he said, strutting around with his hands in his pockets, "hehheh. Friggin' elementary. We just need to wait for the Seigneur to make his next move. No doubt he's outraged by now, with his precious country in ruins thanks to the TARDIS."

Bruce ws worried about this. "But what about Death?"

"Andrew stopped and looked down solemnly. "He's gone, Bruce. We don't know if he's ever coming back."

But Andrew couldn't help it. Bruce's dark yellow tear dripped to the TARDIS ground, wobbling faintly, then, perfectly still like an ocean dock. And like and ocean, his feelings ebbed. A beauty clear tear dripped forth, and joined his. Two hearts, then, beating as one.

For the firts time, their hearts were synchronized.

Synchronized people had a power that nobody can stop.

Basto saw their power and said, "SHIT! I have to get out of here!"

Three of the kids and Davesprite gasped as they stared upward. "Look!" they said together. "It's's the toystore!!" They were about to weep with glee...but then the whole thing fell over! It was just a trap, a cardboard mock-up set up by a few mischievous mummies! "Heh heh heh!" they cackled.

"i knew it" Dave tsk'ed. "mummies are just like zombies only more nefarious theyre gonna be our worst nemesis in this damned baked hotel!"

Jade was lying comatose in a nearby rolling hospital bed. A walking skeleton a while back had scared her so much that she fell aspleep. Worried, the kids talked to their guardian Davesprite, and he told them a sprite could be used as a vessel, not unlike a robot, to channel the souls of the dead and dreaming. It was at once a weakness, a benefit, and a curse. So they used him as a vessel for dream!Jade for the time being, until, that is, she wakes up. "hold on everyone! i can use my chest-sword to get revenge!" Djade hollered, already charging for them.

"No!" Rose said. "Leave them be for now. They didn't know any better." Djade huffed. So much for her nice powers.

The white roach was hopping near another empty-looking hallway. "Over here!" All the kids followed him, riding on the rollong hospital bed like surfers, with Djade leading the helm. They went a little too far, and they BUMPd into a huge upright diary, coated with dust. They fell over, coughing in the clouds.

It was too dark. Just like in the cab, they could hardly see or breathe, bu the room had a particular aura that was...comfortable. "Hm," Rose said, putting her wand up to her lips. "Davesprite, glow for us, please."

"okey!" The orange glow around Djade epanded until it encompassed the whole room like a huge rubber ball of light. Now they could see it: a storn room, much like the rest of the hotel except those with wood paneling, with one huge book and a portrait of an increasingly beautiful woman with black hair. "hubba hubba" said Dave and Djade. They blinked. Everybody stared at eachother. They fell over and laughed.

"wow..." John was marvelled. "i never knew we'd have so much fun just looking for some store! this is the best birthday i've ever had. thankz, you guys! and trudy, too... you're all my absolute favorites!" They group-hugged.

"We should read this private diary," Rose said, determined to be one snoop.

"ill get it," Djade said, nudging the diary open gently with her chest. "wow...this is dated from 2007. dear diary..."

They began to hear a new voice in their heads. It sounded ordinary teenage girl? Something about it seemed not quite familiar...

"...I zinged today. At least, that's what everyone says. It means I've found true love, just like my father Mr. dracula. But somehow, now that I've found the greatest good of my life, I'm feeling more troubled than ever. What kinds of kids with I have? Why? Can I really take over the Hotel Transylvania when Dracula dies? Signed, Mavis.

2008. Dear diary... I think I'm taller than my dad now. R.I.P. Two beautiful children now. One got a job in London. I'm so happy for him. The other...well, she's a little strange, but I like her spirit. I think she may even find more success in life. I wonder how my Scottish family is doing. Rest in peace, my husnand. Sincerely, signed Mavis.

2009, Dear diary... I don't even know where I am today. Did I get drunk? Oh! It's so golden outside! It's like the light is always reflecting everywhere! But isn't it nighttime?! Oh...ugh, I feel like I've got a really bad hangover. No, is...this is death! No, got to close the windows! No! Ugh! I will put this diary in a place where only the pure of heart can find it. Hear the malice of my words and please oh avenge me! The people of Prospit, is it? Oh, this land is so cruel. Signed, Mavis."

When the diary had been finished, it felt like a spell had been lifted.

Davesprite fell over, an empty vessel.

Jade slowly rose up from her hospital bed. "guys..." she said, voice shaking. "i think this 'mavis' lady might somehow be related to..."travis"....."

A cold chill ran up their spines like four little ghosts late for work. They all turned around! Nothing was there. Nothing but a candle which had suddenly been lit in the corner of the room. They turned to each other and shrugged altogether. There was nobody but them in here...right?

Three michievoys ghosts were watching them.

"...Trudy.....Trudy, I....."

It's okay. You can sleep.

"But I...I'm not really Vmsdfx right come I..."

You look like Vsdfx to me.

"But I'm serious! My name is--"

It was no use -- Mr. Rewoi's body was just too sick. He gasped and floudered backward onto his hospital pillow, heaving up and down. Sweat beads were rolling over his body like fish. "Damnit," said Vmsdfx. "It's Travis Trudy again," he said as he turned to the ever-present nurse.

She scribbled some notes down on a clipboard paper. "Who, your imaginary friend?" She chuckled. None of them understood.

"No, not Trudy Travis, I said Travis Trudy, damnit!"

Outside was Detroit and, beyond that, glittering Prospit surrounding pure varse. Vmsdfx was trying to play sBurb from his hospital bed - an impossible task, some might say, but he didn't think so. At least, as long as this Travis Trudy guy would stop stealing his consciousness on and off..........

The nurse cackles.

Meanwhile, in his Earthly settlement far below, a beautiful man sat in a dark room, legs crossed applesauce. It was Travis Trudy. He didn't have the sort of vampire-derived powers his lost sister Trudy had, but what he did have was guts, the type of guts you can use to use others, like Vmsdfxr. He laughed and slid onhis pointy shades. "I think one could get used to this," he smiled.

Seigneur's wrath festered under the surface of distant Prospit. The volcano would blow out any minute now.......


Rose, Jade, Dave, and John inhabiting Davesprite's body bumped into Maudie, who was walking by holding her composition book with a big ol' quill pen. "Maudie!" they all hollered as if they were meeting their grandmother again.

"Oh, howdy! I'm just writing one of my mystery novels." She took out a magnifying glass and shook it at them knowingly. "I'm a writer by trade, but I solve mysteries on the side, you know!"

Maudie walked away. John looked down sadly. "you know, there was another part of the diary. something maudie got here. it said she actually HAD to come here. she's not an actual monster like all the vampires, but...the prejudice in prospit is just too great."

"theres prejudice in prospit?"

"oh, ignorant dave. prejudice is everywhere, even in the shiniest places. especially in those! so the carapace folks made her come here. and the biggest light of her life right now...that's trudy. trudy's one of the only ones here like her."

"...Well, with all respect," Rose said, gesticulating a little, "that's not what the book said. In actuality, Maudie left the island of Scotland with her new husband. He was so strong that he called himself 'Stone Stein.' Also, Maudie is so beautiful that everybody called her a succubus."

"wow...what a family..." Jade was speechless. "i just live with grampa and my dog. i can't imagine. how could they live through that kind of pain?"

Everybody became so quiet, they hadn't even noticed the huge toy store standing before them. But when they did, everybody gasped. They stared straight at one another, then at John on the hospital bed. Just when they were about to laugh simultaenously, Jade held a finger to her buck-tooth lips. She tip-toed over to the Johnbody, picked it up, and brought it up to the market doorway. John nodded gingerly. And then, despite all odds, he began to feel some tears behind those shades. Against even more odds, his sleeping body did, too. So did Rose, and Dave, and even Jade.

Now sobbing, Jade held John's arms out and screamed, "HA-PPY BIRTH-DAAAAAAAAY!"

Four kids stood up against adversity. They done it for family, they did it for friends, they done it for Trudy.

They didn't know it, but Maudis was crying too.


The toy store was called the Transylvanian Wonder Emporium, and it promised them everything - just like the advertisement: video games; CD-ROMs; flying stuffed monkeys that hollered when you threw at them. They stood in a cluster, surrounded by all kinds of funny wonders. "Wow..." Rose's eyes sparkled. "I'm in heaven. It's like my house, but better."

Dave got out the squirt-guns. "water fight" John laughed and stabbed him through the arm. "ouch"

Everybody laughed, grabbing their own guns. "i'll fix that with a little o THIS!" Jade screeched as she hit Dave's arm with more water. They all laughed! So far it was the best birthday ever, and the second best Christmas.


Three hands slammed five white-green boxes on the counter with one wing.

"We want this!" the kids said, determined as heck.

A creepy guy with green skin and no hair looked at them. His nametag said, "JE SUIS [TRACY FRACAIS]". "Hello my good loves," he said in a strange new accent. "Give me the money."

The kids stared at him. Then they stared at eachother. "You're the team dad," said Rose to the sprite. "Come on, John. Get out Davesprite's wallet."

John sighed, but he didn't really mean it. He fumbled with his sword and unlocked the secret compartment in it, thus revealing a couple of dollars in loose change. "oops...he must've spent it all on the taxi drive." They looked at Tracy Français. Their eyes were on the verge of leaking.

"I' so sorry," he said. "These have the high costs. Forty dollars for one. That is one alone."

"But mister!" they all said near-simultaneously. "Isn't there ANY other way we can pay???"

Seigneur Français put his finger to his "lips." "It's the holiday spirit. Come on, sing me a song then." He clapped twice authoratively.

All the kids, seeing their opportunity, looking very happily towards each other, sand the song of the spirit of giving.  They, feeling complete serenity, began to sing the Christmas Carols of old. "Ev'ry time a bell rings," the kids sang delightfully like little cherubs, "an angel gets his wings!"

The Seigneur smiled the purest smile he'd ever taken. With each note, he gave them fifty more cents.

But when he turned around, he used his space-warping powers to create a cell phone. This was what he was using to get the news. Recently he'd heard Paris was destroyed. He wouldn't take this shit lying down. He had to move his pawns around, ge tthem to see a little action.

These four kids would be quite powerful after playing the game, but he couldn't use them. Not in this battle. Not while they were singing. Damnit, they had lives ahead of them still. All wide-eyed and bushy-tailed, aimless. They ain't seen pain.

"hello," the Seigneur Français whispered into his phone. "Something urgent going on in the toy store. I'll join you next fight, that I swear. Everyone report to Paris, Block 3, that's where we'll take down Andrew once and for all"

"Got it. I'm there" The ghost of Alex shut down his phone, so that he could look at the horizon interrupted.

"So much beautiful's almost as pretty as the future. But it's just not the same..." He turned to Conroy Deuz. "Why do you think that's so?"

Conroy's foot was severely bandaged. "I got no idea, son," he muttered.

"It could be because it's not real gold," Alex was about to reply, but then, he blinked. "Son?"

A giant Blasto flew in from the sky like a meteor straight from Skaia, slamming down into the ground, a megaton fist propelled by malice and a need to get away from Andrew Hussie and his dark Campbell. He got up, and saw that there were more adversaries ahead. "SHIT!" he cried. Both of his arms turned into blasters, and he fired at them so fast, as if he had dual staple guns.

"Woah!" The ghost and Conroy flew out of the way. This guy was tough!

"I'll lead him into the big museum! That's where some of my guys are at!" Alex didn't know what big museum he meant - but by then, Conroy was gone.

Somebody was wheeling down a huge, distant mountain, and they were wheeling fast. A bumpy hospital bed, come to send somebody to the great beyond. The blanket flew off, and then it was clear; Vmsdfx - or was it Travis now? - accelerating in to serve his lord of Francais.

"Listen, guys!" Blasto yelled, shooting in all directions. "You have to stop taking Seigneur Francais's phone calls! He's doing nothing but trouble - you gotta blieve me!"

"And doing what, exactly?" said Alexson's Ghost.

"And" He pulled a goofy grin. "Heh he! Sorr-y, I haven't quite figured that out yet!"

"Um..." The ghost shrugged. "Okay. Maybe we can go ambush Francaish at that museum Conroy went to. Just don't shoot me. And don't shoot Vmsdfx either. He's with us." The disabled boy waves.

"Exactly as planned," said Simon.

"wow lets play this game" said Dave

"no, not yet!" John said as they walked, hovered and rolled out of the toy store, holding five fully-functional copies of SBURB. "davesprite knows the rules of the game. his knowledge banks tell me that we each need to get in different houses before it can work. he won't say what those houses are, though."

"how will we find out?" Jade asked.

"I think my woman's intuition is good enough for me to make a few...educated guesses?" Rose decided. "Just follow me."

But first, they had to go find Trudy and give her the great news, so Rose passed the shrunken heads, passed Maudie's room, and found Trudy's room. When she put her ear up to the keyhole, she heard sobbing. "...Trudy?" she murmmred.

Everybody else came in closer to listen. John slowly pierced through the door with his chest-sword on accident. It came apart like a splintered cantaloupe. No hiding from her now. "trudy, i'm so sorry you had to see us like's just that we heard you crying. would you like to be left alone?"

Trudy just kept crying. She was being surrounded by several dark spirits, cloaked in purple, almost-black mist, occasionally cackling in her like th enurse. Her crying was so loud, it echoued. "I'm just a monster," she cried. "I'm not a vampire, or a dracula, or even a stinkin' mummy. I'm a human!"

They were speechless. "Trudy...I don't know how to put this delicately, so forgive me if I hurt you further than you already hurt," said Rose. She came closer, sat on the bed, and put her arm around Trudy's back. "We have reason to believe that you may actually be a descended from Mr. Dracula."


"If that's true, you might actually have vampire powers. And that would explain everything."

Trudis stared into Rose's eyes. They were so pure, so watery, so light. Not as unique as her own, but pretty in their own right, like a big lavender sea. And suddenly she felt like she could lurch into that sea and take the bath of her life. Trudy's eyes shimmered with their own lavender tears. She stared at Rose's eyes, but Rose stared at Trudy's lips, the scarlet flaps preparing to whisper:

"I want to bath in you forever."

Tears erupted from everyones' eyes as they became one big, collective cascade. The demons were about to fly away, but then they felt that powerful surge of emotion surging from every kid, every emotional vessel in the room, and then they remembered. They too, had herts. Once, that is.  Many of them became good spirits that day. They swore to protect Trudy, not alienate her. She had been through enough pain...

But three of them weren't the right spirits. These three they were different. They had haunted Hotel Transylvania for quite too long, and they didn't care how Trudy felt.....

The west wing of the Hotel Transylvania was actually connected to the Louvre in Paris.  Maudie often came here to set up a desk right next to the Mona Lisa and write her heart out. The place had lost most of its visitors after part of Erth came to Prospit, except for the momsters, and a few others. It was a great place for Maudie to relax and get inspired.

Today, but she was sensing something, and it wasn't good.  She sensed the conflagration of many things, like her deepest fears that only she cound confront.  It...irked her, to say the least, and the kindred smile of the Lisa didn't help matters.

She wrote, stopped, turned to the painting slowly and whispered, "Don't you ever get up and help people once in a while?"

The painting only stared.

Maudie sensed something even deeper stirring in her soul. Like she was about to figure out what life was all about: protecting others.

Out from her paper, three spirits rose. They chuckled madly like like children, or like long-dead dolls. They had stayed in Transylvania for a long, long time, but they had never paid for the stay. First-class criminals who tormented the Translvanians...

Maudis reached in beneath her breasts and took out her magnifying glass. "Halt!" she hollered at them. "I'm a Maudie of many faces. A detective, a seductress, a hotel manager. True, I wear many a hat. But today, now that I've found you, I'm all exorcist. So come at Maudie if you dare!"

The Triplets hissed and swarmed around her. One of them took her magnifying glass and threw it against the ground, where it shattered, but that was only Maudie's ruse. She took several slips of paper with ancient characters scrawled about them from her chest - charms, to pacify the ghosts. "Huzzah!" she creamed, and she flew them at the ghostly Triplets, causing them to collapse onto the ground into ectoplasmic goo with the vague shapes of curly-red-haired youths.

Maudie landed on the ground, crossed her arms, and said, "Hmph! Explain yourselves, boys"

"We're sorry!" the Triplets pleaded.

"All these years, we thought we needed someone to torment," said one triplet.

"We even tried to torment Trudy earlier," said the second. Maudie's eyes widened in horror.

"But I guess all we really needed..."

They said together, "Was a friend."

"Well, I'll be no friend of ye, you scurrilous trip's! You only want me for my pie."

The Triplets looked at each other and smiled with recognition. "Yeah, you're right. The only reason we're still on Earth is because we wanted some of your pies."

"You're ghosts. You can't eat pie."

A huge hellgate of searing pink fires and necronomicons and nentagrams appeared around the Triplets, consuming them in irreconceilable flame and sending them almost instantly to the great beyiond. Before they went, Maudie swore she could hear them holler one last "NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO..."

She dusted off her hands and said to herself, "Well, that's attractive!" She turned. "Ain't that right, Mony?" The mona Lisa smiled upon her, as if granting her heavenly blessing.

"All they ever wanted was pie, though. Can you really fault children for that? Can you? Can you, Maudie!"

"Yes!" She whirled around, only to see a brand new ghost before her: none other than the ghost of Alex. "A gho-gho-ghuh...a gho-gho-gho..." She was in a state of wide-eyed horror, from which, she now feared, she may never recover.

"I'm not here to haunt you, you old Maud," Alex sighed. "I've seen you before. You were in the future. And you never once told me you were haunted by my ghost in your past."

"Oh..." Maudie sighed, relieved. "Phew!"

"But there's something far greater out there that's about to be haunting all of us. That somebody is Seigneur Francais. I almost thought he was my ally for a moment there, but...nope. We got duped. All of so duped." Alex just shook his head in shame. "And now. in order to return to my - our future, Maudie, our wonderful future, I have to first fight this despicable man...and it has to happen here."

" od you know this?" Maudie stammered. Her hands were shaking.  She could hardly hold a pencil.

"Because. You told me."

Maudie reached out to hold his hand as the silence hung like a John and Jade birthday banner. But her hand went through. Only a ghost, again. Everything she ever loved, everyone she ever hated, eventually it all came down to ghosts.

"There's a few vampires in your life, Maud." She did a double take. "I can read minds, Maudie. It's just a little ghost power."

"Oh. Nice!"

The Louvre began to rumble. "Uh-oh," said Alex. "This is one of the Seigneur's powers. This place is 'bout to get real trashed." Maudie whipped out twin loaves of bread, shaped like swords, from her breasts cavity. Alex Alexson's eyes started to glow. Everyone was gathering, and a few pictures were on the verge of tumbling!

"Hello," a voice said slowly from the hospital bed rolling bumpily in. It sounded like Vmfdsx, but...not quite. That was because right now he was Travis Trudy. "Somebody else is about to play the game. Five.....peo...ple..." A mysterious, somewhat green-tinted figure laid her hand on his lap. It was the Mona Lisa, revived and out of the picture.

"Seigneur! Stop the spell already!" screamed Blasto. "Paintings were not meant to have souls." He was standing askance from him in that famous pointilism scene, The Park. All of the people were startled, running away. Here were two nigh-demonic characters, about to clash.

"I do what I want. I do what I must." He looked around. "Now, let's make this quick!"

"Time Bullet!" A second earlier, Blasto made it so that a "bullet" of crystalized air had nicked Seignuer in the nape of the neck. "Unh!" he said, recoiling, but he snapped back up in an instant. Five more bullets, but they didn't do anything. "Ha! Nice shots!"


Outside, the huge painting had fallen to the floor during Seignuer's Francais' big spell. "you said this is the place?" Djade said. Her sBurb box was with her, having been stabbed through her chest-sword.

"Don't worry. You have to deploy the Game right over here," said Rose with a big smile. "But go quickly. Things are coming to life in here. I think the Thinker is chasing us."

Dave gave her a peace sign. "take care"

Jade nodded. "Unh!" She leaped into the portal leading into the park, not knowing the danger it would become. Rose, Dave and John got out of Dodge as fast as they could, knowing they had to find the final three locations. Trudy was already driving back to Miami so that she could play the Game with them, too. "Come on! Let's get out of here!" They took the bed containing Jade's comatose body and shoved it down the hall, it squeaked past a sea of melting clocks and a long bridge with a screaming man on it.

Conroy Deuz bumped into John, busting his glasses. They both fell apart from each other. "Woah!" they screamed simultaneously.

"woah, are you a kid, sir?"

"No, I'm a fukkin' mafioso!" said Conroy. "Listen, team up with me. It'll be the best decision you ever make."

John halted. He turned to Rose. "Is this the path?"

"Yes. You have to go to this young man's house. That's where you'll play the game," she said solemnly.

"i have to take my chances..."

John locked arms with Conroy. He had to help him on account of the limp leg. "stay safe, rose, dave! someday you'll be angels too! you can get your wings someday! adieu!! oh, we can ride that!" A wild yellow cow ran in, and they landed right on it. Rose and Dave shook hands and ran off together.

"I have the perfect plan!" Conroy screamed to John. "See this here button?" He took out a remote control. "WhenI press this button, it's set to detonate a bomb right over the Seigneur. Yeah, it's a highly selective bomb. That's why it was never completed until now...and why I couldn't activate it before. But the tech may be flawed..."

"woah!" John said as the cow almost bucked them off. "but you can't destroy the seigneur! he gave me presents. you see, he's not bad guy. he has mercy!"

Conroy pondered this. "Supose you're right," he decided. He tossed the remote under the cow's feet, and it stamped them to destruction, then ran away. "Heh - and even if we need to, my guys'll destroy him with ease when the time comes." He stared into John's eyes; "And I reckon one'o those guys'll be you."


Too many things were going on at once, but it was important to note that the focus here was on Blasto versus his main antagonist in the long long night that is our lives,that is, Seigneur Francais. Just when Francis was worrying over Djadesprite's sudden appearance, the Park picture erupted into flames, and when the flames left, only the three were left. "Looks like we have to fight in the Louvre," said Seigneur.

"ugh" said Jade. "look at this mess!!! what are you even fighting for?"

"Control of the story?"

"what story?"

"The story that is your life," said the Seigneur. "The reason I made these works of art come to life is because the worlds of art are the most powerful things in existence. At least, I think so."

"but they werent meant to be alive," saud Djade. "its time to grow up," she said as she put a healthy wing over his shoulder. "you cant live in these fairy tales anymore. you cant control my life. and i cant control yours. but damnit, we can help each other.

"and this freaking living arts not gonna help anybody. now help me glue this painting back together so i can go inside it and create sburb again."

"But Jade, you were never supposed to get involved in this!" screamed Seigneur.

"just do it!" Jade screamed bitterly. "do it or i can never have fun with my friends again..."

Blasto let down his guns. "What am I fighting for...?"

Vmdsfx Remwo had found them. Huffing and puffing, he was pushing against the ground to propel himself into the scene. He pulled a hunting knife from his throat, held it up to Blasto's neck as he slowly wheeled in close to him. "Don't. Move."

"What? What's with you?" Blasto broke into a cold sweat. "You're not on my side anymore? Again? Well, shit on you!" Vmsdfx tried to knife him, but he ducked down. "Ha. Try better next time."

"Dangiiiiit..." Vmdsfx tumbled out of the bed, splashing onto a very soggy clock with a tump. He raised his fists skyward and hollered, "O Trudy, give me strength!" Djade and Seigneur were busy finding glue to put the Park back together. They didn't know what horrible thing was coming.

"Remoi, noo..." Blasto said weakly.

"Inh!" Vmdsfx was sweaty bulletds. He liftd one leg up and stamped it on the ground. Thnen he lifted the other and said, "GNunh!" He twitched as he stood up, using every labor in his body. "GruUUUghr!" Pant - haa - pant - haa - pant - haaa...

"This one's doin' it," Blasto said in amazement.

Travis took one step forward.


He forgot how to walk in this body at the crucial moment and tripped and fell on the shard of the remote which had the fateful killswitch on it.

COnroy heard the click from far away. "NO!!"

"CONROY!" John screeched. "Ho, Yellow Cow!"

"MMMURHG" The cow reared up, wiggled its front paws about, then landed with a tiny whinny.

"ah, i love this cow!" John signed.

"Well, I don't like this situation one bit," Conroy deliberated. "Somebody set off the bomb. Wonder if it's gonna work."

John's mouth ang open. "the what?"

At first, a small spark of harsh light was all that appeared, It was right over Francais's head. He could only glance up. Then, it ballooned. Then, it really detonated. As if in slow-motion, the Louvre imploded due to it - first its interior, then the brick foundation of the rest of Hotel Transylvania, then the entire gold hole of Prospit, and then...and then.....

The shockwave spread slowly throughout the medium space. Skaia felt it, too, and Earth, and Venus, and Jupiter, and all the other planets, and even Sun.  Sirius, the dog star. Jade's friend Becquerel, when he heard it, warped far, far, away.

Trudy didn't quite feel the explosion. She was in her elementary classroom, alone with the gruff old principal, when she felt it. She was reading Pinocchio.

"Readin' Pinocchio, eh?" said the principal.

"Yeah. It's about a wooden boy who wants to become a real boy. But really, Gepetto was a puppet, too. They were all being controlled..." Trudy trailed off. She slowly put the book down and looked straight. up. "I have to go."


"I feel a great sadness somewhere in the world..."

"Whose sadness?"

"I don't know. I can never tell. Sometimes it's a stray cat, or a homeless robot. I never know until I get there..."Trudy shoved the book away, opened the windows, and dashed out.

"Wait! Don't go, you're my star pupil!" But it was no use. The principal knew he was all washed-out, nearly useless.

Trudy began running down the sidewalk, screaming every which way: "Hello-o-o? Anybody sad over here? No?" She rang doorbells to do favors. She returned lost dogs to their owners. Still, but still, she felt that one great ball of sadness welling up inside her heart.

FInally, she came to a great bridge overlooking the waves of Miami's beaches. A boy looked solemnly down from the railing into the great ebbing abyss that stretched below him. Truby looked at him, and she just knew. He was contemplating suicide. She could always tell things like that, ever since she was little.

"Hey, kid!" she roared. "Don't jump!"

He turned to her slowly. "Why?" he said.

"Because this kitty needs you." She took out a kitty from her coat pocket. It was missing an eye, and it meowed. "She's a stray. She doesn't worry about any of the big things in the world. She just wants some yummy milk." So she gave the cat to the suicide boy. Then she turned to run away.

"Wait!" he screamed, reaching a hand out to her. "You can't just leave this cat with me here!"

"I have to find the great sadness!" Trudy Travis ran away at top speed.

"Gosh, look in the sky!" the boy said loudly. "Must be way past noon already!"

Trudy gasped. That was it...up in the sky! She had to go up there and search, search for that great negative emotion. It was so great, she was almost afraid of what was to come...what kind of suffuering, what world-twisted torment would wait here there? She took a deep breath and, realizing that most of her powers probably empathized with her now, threw her hands up in the air and called two of them by name. "Peresepholis! Minaines! Be my blades and send me heaven-ward!!" The dark things swirled about her as she ran for a moment, then surrounded her feet, became what seemed to be ordinary rollen-blades bit were actually highly-charged darkn'ess roket boosters, sent her rcoketing away straight up, through the stratosphere and into the fire.

"Shhes," the boy said as he looked for the milk, "what a strange kid!"

Who could the source of the sadness be? Was it Mr. French, the Campbell, maybe Andrew, or...? No, it was just too great. Nearly beyond comprehension for purely mortal beings, she guessed. But she could just barely wrap her brains around it... Yes, planet-sized sadness, she surmised. A small planet, like Pluto. Or normal moon-sized, perpaps?

Almost certainly.

She held her breath and flew without hesitation into the Medium, over to Skaia. She looked to where Prospit should have been, but found only a swirling ball of bloody-red dust and magma. Trudy gasped, nearly letting all the air out, but she forced herself to stay strong! She shook her head wildly! Tears flew into the horizons of space...

On the other side of the burnt-black moon, a tall white figure, almost like a huge fairy, presided over the apparent destruction of the small world.  The "fairy" looked serene, peaceful, almost like a naked Seigneur Francais, and very thin. Through his fingers the lives of men and carapace folks swirled, and many more. It was as if to say, "What was the use of all that bloodshed if this is how it all ends?"

Trudy flew up to the fairy using the full force of her rollerblades, wiped her eyes, and screamed right in his face, "They're so sad!"

He stared back at her. It seemed to be a disdainful response, but ti wasn't...far from it. It was more like a weary, yet placcid facial expression. With half-closed eyes he acknowledged this small, pretty thing. "There are few like you in this universe," he said in a slow, plodding voice. It was like the voice of the gos.

"Yes, I know. But these people of Prospit had a chance! They had potential! And most of all, they had happiness! Why, oh why did you take that away from them!?"

"My damsel, it was a misfire," said Giant Naked Seigneur. "That, and a heavy dose of fate. A couple of them were able to escape - dear Andrew and Bruce Cambell locked arms and ran to Hell by the time I--”

I don’t care about those two!”

“All aside, dear Trudy, you know you are of special fate and lineage..."

Trudy sniffled. "So what, Lord?"

"If you take your own life here and now," he said deliberatingly, "I can bring some of this world back. Only a precious bit. I can restore some of the land, and some of the people..."

"And you'll bring back my friends too, won't you?"

"The Giant Lord makes no promises."

Bloody red dust blew silently around him, constructed out of the basic building blocks of humanity, carapaciaty and society. Once gold, sometime black, now red. When would the blood go dry again? "I can tell that you are running out of air. Make your selection now or forever feel this great sadness upon your heart."

Some of us live only for ourselves. Some of us live to please others. Other s work to enrich the lifetimes of everyone they touch. These are the people who truly change fates.

These are the pariahs. These are the fallen stars who shto for the room but became constellations. They are the ones who show the true valiance, bravery, maudery.

Trudy Travis slit her throat and died.

Chapter 20 - “Chapter 22”

By bicyclingThaumaturge


//----Xx~ by bicyclingThaumaturge ~xX---XxxxxxxXXxx//

Andrew and troll!human!Equius stood a lone on the deck of the ship. As the wind blew it filled the ship's sail's with wind and propelled the ship through the water. It was about 14 degrees Celsius. The sea had waves in it like someone had put their baby in a bathtub and the baby began to make splashes if the water was dark blue and the baby was a pirate ship. Hussie

“Alright well this blows,”

“D --> What does” asked Equius.

“It blows that Death killed Satan instead of us. I cannot believe the audacity of that guy. He just steals other people's kills like it's his JOB or something. What a lowlife, right?"

"D --> Oh, right D --> Maybe..."  Equius thoughtful, “D --> Maybe we should slam about it"

There was an extensivley thoughtful pause. Andrew was reluctant to agree, because he was having a bad time figuring out how to make his poetry not suck in such a sucky setting. The setting doesn’t actually suck though, I don’t know what he’s talking about.

"Well, you know how I feel about this story. I feel like it's not good. Like, at all. I'm just not sure having a rap battle right now is the best decision, you know? The narrator probably wouldn't let any actual quality slip through the asscrack he's writing this with," Andrew said.

"D --> We could attempt to make the quality of the battle so e%ceptionally massive and fantastic that it forces itself out of the crack" Suggested Equius,

"Wait, we're trying to make the shit bigger so it comes out more easily? Haha, I don't think that's how constipation works, but that logic is so ridiculous that fuck it I'm just going to have to go with it." Andrew.

"D --> Alright, Ill start I suppose D --> Are you ready" Equius asked.

"Sure, why not," Andrew told.

"D --> E%cellent"


D --> Satan claimed he was inspired

D --> Death claimed he was incoherent

D --> Satan claimed he was inspired

D --> Wrote sentences inspired

D --> Death claimed he was incoherent

D --> Huss and I, together we were his own

D --> And plots that were long retired

D --> Wrote sentences incoherent

D --> Wrote sentences incoherent

D --> It

D --> ...

What the fuck?

D --> I think

D --> My poetry has been slightly altered

See, that's what I was saying. That was Bonsai Story Generator at work there. I think the narrator actually used Bonsai for that just because Atlanta Nights did it too. Such adherence to the mission briefing.

Anyway. My turn. I have a plan.


And then Andrew's rap was so intentionaly awful that every time I put into the Bonzai thing it rearranged itself to be perfect in ever single way so it has no place here with these dumbasses but there was one part that is important so that will have actually canonically happened so Here's is what he said;


Death was really bad, here is where the plot hapened all over Satan.

Satan was dead because of Death but not us and for the sake of rhyming, Satan.

Death climbed to the top of the pile of the dead Satans triumphantly Satan.

And with choice bitch in his arm he had a makeout while the words hail to the king baby were spoken by Death. Satan!



D --> Reference what


D --> Did Troll Duke Nukem actually say that


D --> Oh, that's right, he did

D --> What film was that quoting again


D --> No that wasn’t it



D --> Ah, Troll Army of Darkness, that was the one


D -< Oh golly

D> I feel weird

7><> Kind of like I’m remembering things I forgot about but they didn’t actually happen ever

7==== Or did they


7==== Yeah, actually I think they did happen... What kind of troll name is Bruce, anyway?

Aw shit...

7==== And is that thing with a seven supposed to be my boomstick? Wow, that’s kind of a stretch. And that’s all there is to my quirk, too. What was I thinking when I came up with that?

Well, cat's out of the bag now! You were Troll Bruce Campbell the whole god damn time. Also, your boomstick quirk is really stupid. I miss Equius already. All he would do is be all grandiloquent and perspire like a mofo every now and then. Now I have to put up with you and your arrogance again. And, you know, Equius was a character that I ACTUALLY MADE.

*le audible sign* I miss being a narrator. If I was the narrator I could just make you Zahhak again and everything would be fine. Actually, was I ever a narrator at all? I’m pretty sure the inconsistencies in this story are affecting me. But alas.

7==== Alas my ass.

Shut up.


And then the deck of the ship broke and they fell through, and it hurt!

Okay, I'm glad that's over. Those guys seriously disrespect my storytelling style. If you wanna be in my fanfic you have to be AWESOME. Not a baby who needs to be washed by your mommy and in a bathtub. The point is, they are babies. Anyway I promise Ill never refer to myself as I ever again because that's a stupid thing to do. Anyway, let's leave these loosers behind and go to where the funs really at!

Trudy's father cried over Trudy's dead corpse. He felt remorse, remorse for all those times before when he told Trudy her powers would do no good for the world, for now that he's seen them in real life he knows that Trudy's dad was wrong so he felt guilty. As he cried, the ninjas and Evil Father were closing in on him from behind and all other sides. They were ready to kill. One said "Let us burn his face with fire!" and another said "He'll will regret being Trudys dad!" and one more thAT SAID "THERE WILL BE blood!"

Trudy heard an ear at them and realized he was going to die like Trudy if he didn't react. So he turned around and hoisted his knife from chapter 1 over his shoulder, killing the front row of ninjas behind him and in all other sides as well.

The other ninjas pounced like a cat on fire and dad did the same. He chopped multiple heads off, and then when he tried to chop off another the ninja caught his arm faster than a frisbee and stated "This is for Billyninja! Billyninja was my BESTFRIEND!" And then he chopped that head off too.

Distracted by chopping off ninja heads who were also becoming zombie ninjas that dad's dad had to stab even faster. They were saying things like "He killed Billyninja." "No! Not Billyninja!" "Billyninja was the only one I could trust with my secrets" "Billyninja, you will be missed." "When does it night on prospit." Evil dad was getting closer to dad. Dad noticed this, and before long, dad had dad in his hand and held him off a cliff.

"Wait, please! I'm sorry for everything!" dad said, but dad was already squeezing to hard for him to say that so he stayed silent.

"You have been a thorn in my thigh for long enough." dad thought as he squeezed harder than ever before.

"You to." thought the dad. And then dad got back on the cliff.

Dad swung his knife at him, but then dad swung his own back, but was holding it backwards, in his hand. Ow said dad when he stabbed dad. Dad tumbled off the cliff, with a knife in his throat and when he hit the ground he dad. Dad turned around and saw that all the ninjas were dad too. He was still alive though!

Dad laughed a laugh. "I finally am the winner." he giggled,


But then there was a sound. It chilled dad more than cold water from a bathtub with a baby in it that was outside for a really long time in the winters. His head turned around again to see who was there but then was grappled and carried away by red wings! He looked up and a sliver recognition crossed his face! It was Seigneur Français!! The metal travelling demon who was secretly behind everything!!!!!


Seigneur Français suddenly thought ah fuck dis noise let's just tele to lumby here we go. When dad woke up he was on the Eiffel Tower. It swayed in the wind like clothes hung out to dry in a wind storm. SF was to his right, watching the sunset.

"I see you're awake." He said in an astonishingly affable voice.

"Me too." Said dad. He woke up and watched the sunset too. It was nice.

"We have something very important to discuss." SF said Please, just for a moment, stop being the narrator. You are absolutely awful at it.

"What's that?" dad asked. And that's Trudy's dad. You should have specified that earlier.

SF Stop calling me that right now. chuckled, deciding to refrain from offering the deal for just a little while longer. Just for fun, he thout. He took his time, chating up dad. Trudy's dad. Just a fair warning, I'm starting to get angry with you and your typos.

"So how have you been? Not that I need to ask, since I already know very well not only how you are, but how you were in every moment of your relevance. But conversation is nice." SF, in all his metal travelling, Meta travelling. That was four times already. Correcting you is getting tiresome. Just stop narrating or I’ll kill you. Because I can. asked.

"Oh, well my daughter just died, so actually I'm not doing too well."

"I knew that already."


"But the death is unfortunate for more reasons than the misfortune itself. You see... you have gone broke, in a parental sense."

"What does that mean?"

"It means that you are fresh out of daughters and will find your end of my offer to be exceptionally difficult to live up to."

"Your offer...?"

"It's simple, for me. All you have to do is bring us the girl, and she will be enough to wipe away the debt."


"Bring us the girl. Wipe away the debt."

"But Turdy's dead!"

"Again, I already knew that. My condolences, by the way."

"No! Even if she was a live, of course not!"

"Yes, it’s quite hard to provide the girl when she’s not living anymore. I understand you decision." Seigneur Français said with a smile. “It was still far from the right one, though.” He reached into his array of pockets and pulled out a gun.

"See this? This is my boomstick. The one from chapter 14. It’s a twelve-gauge double-barreled Remington. S-mart’s top of the line. Shop smart. Shop S-mart."

He pulled the trigger, and with the pull of a trigger, dad fell from the Iffiel Tower head over footfirst, landing on the ground and was dad. SF remained, standing atop the tower in all his metal travelling glory, having killed dad once and for all. He felt, right about now, like a baby who had just gotten out of the tub, and was looking forward to his adult life in the future as an S-mart employee. SF, the metal travelling demon, killed a dad who's real identity is not specified here. Babies in bathtubs.

[bicyclingThaumaturge's [BT'S] computer exploded


Oh my god.

Chapter 21 - The Ham is a Metaphor

By King of Clubs

Lavender scent was in the air. Small, chunky angels were swarming about, painting dangerously drooping stalactites rose. Strictly speaking they were no angels, but only demons whose wings had been tarred and feathered. The feathers probably belonged to pigeons. Or actual angels. Who cares about that anyway? Boiling lakes of molten lava were dyed pink. Artificial lawn in an unnatural green was being rolled out on the stony floor. Skulls that were attached to a bone throne were smiling at the soothing faint elevator music. They were decorated with colorful ribbons. "In a certain way this reminds me of a place I've been to not long ago.", remarked Booker DeWit.

„Well, that's quite interesting!“, said Vmsdfx Rewoi. „I didn't expect that you would remember this, since you technically died, before-“ „LALALALALALALALA!“, exclaimed ghost Alex Alexson, while putting his ghost-fingers into his ghost-ears. That were attached to his ghost-head. „No spoilers please! Some of us haven't played the game yet!“ „But Rewoi is right, that's indeed a bit strange.“, noted Chole Phelps, alias John Marston, alias Master Chief. „You know what? I think you are lying, Booker! I think there is no Elizabeth! You just made all this bring-us-the-girl-and-wipe-away-the-dept-stuff up, because in fact you envied the honest people of Columbia! You were envious about their belief and their style of life! That's why you killed them! And then you eliminated Comstock himself!“ „LALALALALALALALALALALA!“ „And then you went to heaven and killed the almighty god! You arranged an accident, so that it looks like he died of pity! And then you went straight to hell and killed Satan too!“ Phelps pointed at a corpse that was lying face down in front of the bone throne. Its skin was completely red and horns were growing out of its head. Four angels were trying to raise the corpse, so that other angels could place some artificial lawn beneath it. „You can't prove anything.“, said Booker. Phelps was thinking for some seconds, then he remarked calmly: „Hm, looks like I was mistaked.“

„COULD YOU PLEASE ALL BE QUIET FOR A MOMENT!“ Everyone fell silent. Alex Alexson, Conroy Deux, Mr. Travis, Travis Trudy, Vmsdfx Rewoi, Master Chief, Chole Phelps, Booker DeWit, John Marston, Blasto, even Sam and Max. Even the angels intercepted their work and the doomed souls that were swimming in the pink lava rivers stopped their cries of joy. Trudy Travis stepped forth into into a beam of light that was shining through a hole in the ceiling of hell. Her snow-white hair sparkled in the light, as well as the diamonds on her fancy, night-blue dress and the tears, appearing in her ruby-red and emerald-green eyes. Trudy bowed down to pick an artificial rose from the artificial lawn. She pressed the flower against her chest and took a deep breath, before she turned towards her group with a pirouette. Her dress was waving impressively in the wind.

„You narcissistic egoists!“ Trudy's voice was trembling with rage. „Since we arrived here, none of you has even tried to care about my feelings. Nobody spared a single thought about how all this stuff burdens me with sorrows. I expected this of you...“ Trudy was pointing at her father. „But what about you others? What about you, Marston? Don't I mean anything to you?“ Now she was pointing  towards the whole group with a dramatic gesture. „If anyone of you, anyone, is feeling now, in this very moment, the need, no the urge, to go to the toilet, then please go. Now. For I will reveal now my inner feelings to you and aeons would not suffice to share half the aspects of my deep sorrows with you.“ Trudy waited some seconds, then her already grim face darkened and she stared into the cold, far away void. „Nobody? Well, I expected it.“

Suddenly the rest of the nice hell got dark, so that the only source of light left was the spotlight, that was shining on Trudy, just like the light she would now cast on her feelings. „Oh, the feels. The feels. The history of these feels I want to tell you about reaches back a very long time. In the tender age of three I already realized that my beauty, my abilities, my perfection would always be the target of the envy of the less gifted. This wasn't just a premonition- How could it be one, when there was not the tiniest doubt at any time that it would come as it has? No, it was a certainty, a fact. But there was also something else. Something that was less than a premonition – nothing, but a presumption. Yet I wished that it would be other way around. It was a presumption about my death. See this ham!“ For a short moment there was a second spotlight, revealing a large ham that was lying on the dead devil's throne.

„The ham is a metaphor, no a symbol! For I should have been like the ham. For his whole existence he is delicious, but his true climax is when he gets eaten. Yes, that's how I should have been like. Isn't death the coolest thing that exists? Should death be my climax? At least I have always wanted to be dead and that's why everyone else should too! Just imagine the possibilities! You could meet people from other ages! There wouldn't only be one generations worshipping the ground under my feet, but zillions of them! And demons! And devils! And all of this would be delightfully tragic! Angels would weep at the sight of my fate and their tears would fall from heaven and vaporize in the molten lava seas! But look at this! Everything is so happy and pastel-colored and harmless and, and, and... *sigh* I think the true question is to be or n-“ „You bitch!“

Another spotlight appeared, as another person from the group stepped forth. It was Trudy Travis,  Vmsdfx Rewoi's imaginary friend! „Trudy, no!“, shouted Vmsdfx, but he got ignored. There wasn't even a spotlight pointing at him. „You're the one who is always thinking about herself! Even more than all the others together!“, exclaimed the imaginary Trudy Travis. „My fate is far more tragic than yours! You had at least a real death and just had to realize that your afterlife isn't as great as you imagined. I will never have a tragic and dramatic death that will be mourned by someone, for I am just a fragment of the mind of this guy! This would be something else, if he was a cool werewolf or a mysterious vampire. People like us both are basically expected to snuggle 24 hours a day into a strong, paranormal, mysterious, stalking boyfriend. But look at him! He... He is so normal. How could I ever-“ „Enough!“, bursted the Master Chief out.

„I need a weapon!“ He reached for Booker's revolver. „Hey, what are you doing?!“ „I am finishing this fight.“, answered the Master Chief in a grim voice. Then he shot at Trudy Travis. Suddenly everything happened in slow-motion. „Why?“, a noninvolved observer might ask. „Because the dramatic nature of this scene needed this to happen in slow-motion. And because it looks incredibly cool.“, would be the answer. Vmsdfx slowly jumped in front of the bullet, while shouting „NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!“ in a deep and distorted voice. This took some minutes. Everyone was watching and nobody even tried to do anything. Not even Trudy, who had enough time to easily step out of the line of fire. Oh and by the way, there was epic music playing in the background. Perhaps the song from bodyguard. „If I should stay, I would only be in your way. So I'll go, but I know I'll think of you every step of the way. And I will always love you. I will always love you.
You my darling you mhhh. Bittersweet memories, that is all I'm taking with me. So goodbye, please don't cry. We both know I'm not what you, you need. AND IIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII-I WILL ALWAYS LOVE YOUUUUU-U...“ Yeah and so on, you all know the rest. However, the bullet penetrated Vmsdfx and continued the fly towards Trudy. „NOOOOOOOOOO!“, shouted Vmsdfx a second time, when he noticed this. Then – after some more minutes passed – the bullet hit the imaginary Trudy. Then it continued to fly towards the real Trudy. „AND IIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII-IIIIII WILL ALWAYS LOVE YOUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUU IIII WILL ALWAYS LOVE YOUUUUUU...“

Ok, just go to Youtube already. Yeah, I mean you, reader. I know you want to listen to the song, it's really great. Don't worry, I promise you this bullet will still be flying when you're back. So, you're now on Youtube, looking for the song „And I Will Always Love You“. Meanwhile the bullet continues to fly towards Trudy Travis, after it hit the imaginary Trudy Travis. The imaginary Trudy Travis didn't really care about this, because she was imaginary and bullets cannot kill her, no matter how much she wished for this to happen. As a sign of passive-agressive protest she sighed. In slow-motion. It was pretty impressive. In the meantime the bullet was still flying towards Trudy Travis. Then it finally reached her. The hitten Trudy started to fall down. Also, you, the reader, are now back from Youtube and the song „And I Will Always Love You“ is actually playing in the background, so that I don't have to write down the lyrics anymore. And by the way, I lied to you and you arrived after Trudy was hitten by the bullet. Deal with it. Blasto, the Hanar Specter, floated towards Trudy to catch her with his tentacles. He was floating in less-slow slow-motion, so that he succeeded in reaching her in time. Then everyone stopped moving in slow-motion and all the spotlights that were not pointing at the real Trudy Travis disappeared.

„Come closer.“, Trudy whispered feebly and coughed. „This... This was... so... COOL!“ Trudy sat up and touched the place where the bullet hit her. „Why am I still alive? Why am I not bleeding?“ „I wi' eschplain i' 'o you.“, said a voice that didn't belong to the group and sounded as slimy as a violin played by a slug with a lump of slime. Also, the violin was made of slime too. „In 'ell – at leascht in 'he new, „frien'ly '“ell – nobo'y can die.“ The devil was speaking. He was sitting on his throne and eating the large ham with relish, lit up by a blood-red spotlight. Also, he actually made air quotes, when he said „frien'ly“. Just in case you still had any doubts about him being evil. You know, because evil masterminds make air quotes all the time.

„An' thasch ischn' sche only neschs I'm goi'g to 'ell you. 'our nosch-deasch isch 'uscht 'ike- Schorry“ He swallowed the rest of the ham. „Much better. What I was going to say is: Your not-death is just like everything else that has happened so far a part of my ultimate master plan. I will now proceed to explain all its terrific details and – excuse the pun – diabolic implications in an extensive monologue. Well, where do I begin? Hm... Ah, I got it! Do you remember the beautiful pony from... I think it was chapter 4? That was actually me all along!“ The devil began to laugh evilly. „HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!“ „I wanted to have a piece of that ham.“, mourned Booker.

„No it wasn't!“, shouted the imaginary Trudy, who was standing next to the real Trudy, so that she could be in the spotlight. Everyone gasped in horror. „You little insect dare to question me?“, intonated the devil, but Trudy – the imaginary Trudy – was not impressed. „You are obviously ignoring that there is only as much continuity between the chapters as the outlines allow it. And there is absolutely nothing in the outline about you not being dead or having a plan or about a beautiful pony existing in another chapter!“ „Hm, well, I have to admit that you're somehow right with that.“, murmured the devil depressed and raised from his throne. „Well, if anyone is looking for me, I'm going to get me some coffee. Apparently nobody here is in need of me, neither dead, nor alive. At least you seem to be quite efficient at making this place more terrifying than it was before my „death“.“ On his way outside he added: „By the way, those three over there also seem to want to say something more or less important.“

The spotlight that was shining on the throne panned towards three familiar figures, climbing out of a pink molten lava river. The first of them was Axel Roderick, a troll who was wearing a black leather jacket on which a rust red exclamation mark was embroidered. His bright, luminous, sparkling, well-formed face left no doubt that he was he was one of the infamous Rainbow Drinkers, mysterious creatures that drink blood and go outside in the daylight. He radiated an aura of self-confidence that was adjoining to arrogance. Trudy examined him closely and decided that he was a good match. The imaginary Trudy variantly darted envious glances at the real Trudy and the good looking fellow, as she knew that she would never be able to compete with the real Trudy Travis. She would always be the appendage of Vmsdfx, instead of being the appendage of a supernatural Romeo.

The next one was David DeLarge, a Dersite.  He was wearing a yellow suit, a fedora in the same color to which a playing card – a Jack of Diamonds – was attached and a black-white spotted tie. He seemed to be absentminded, but not like he wasn't able to rivet on the situation, but in a cool and casual way. Just like it wouldn't cost him the tiniest bit of effort to analyze the situation and as if even that wasn't worth it. Next to him was Ursashima Keitaro, who was wearing blue vintage jeans and a brown hoodie with the number 22 on it. In contrast to the other two he appeared to be rather harmless and seemed to have a core of kindness inside him, that was replaced by a shell of misery long ago.

„Listen to our story, new arrivals, so that it will be a lesson to you and you won't remain in this haunted place longer than necessary.“, intoned Axel. „Our deaths were long ago and their reasons couldn't be more different, but there is something we all have in common: Oblivion. If you have been told that the worst you will face in hell are the endless pains or the humiliations or whatever this here is supposed to be, then I have to reveal to you, that you have been lied to. There is something far worse, something almost nobody can tell you about, since most won't even be able to speak about anything again. For when you are here and seconds become minutes, minutes become hours, hours become days, days become weeks, weeks become months, months become quaters, quaters become semesters, semesters become... Wait, that's the wrong direction. Hold on a minute, I'm going to start again. Ourdeathswerelongagoandtheirreasonscouldn'tbemoredifferentbutthereissomethingweallhaveincommonoblivionifyouhavebeentoldthattheworstyouwillfaceinhellaretheendlesspainsorthehumiliationsorwhateverthishereissupposedtobethenIhavetorevealtoyouthatyouhavebeenliedtothereissomethingfarworsesomethingalmostnobodycantellyouaboutsincemostwon'tevenbeabletospeakaboutanythingagain. For when you are here and years become semesters, semesters become quaters, quaters become months, months become weeks, weeks become days, days become hours, hours become minutes, minutes become seconds, seconds become milliseconds, milliseconds become microseconds, microseconds become nanoseconds, nanoseconds become picoseconds, picoseconds become... What's after picoseconds? Femtoseconds? Attoseconds? I think, sooner or later both come, but I don't know which one is first.

Well, my point is: Don't stay here for too long! Because somewhen you will forget your goals, your loved ones and even your own existance! At first I forgot that I wanted to find Eridan Ampora's murderer, then I forgot Eridan himself and in the end I forgot that I existed. Then – after the devil's death – a part of my memory was restored. Don't ask me how, I don't know either. Also, since I'm already talking about warnings, if someone here is offering you a sitting accommodation, you are better off standing. Sitting down in hell can also lead to oblivion. Oh, and if someone offers you a red and a blue pill... well, that's now a bit awkward, but I have forgotten which one leads to oblivion. Just don't take the one you wanted to take at first. Except if you trust your judgements, then take the one, you wanted to take at first. Oh, and you better keep your hand off of mobile phones that are offered to you by old taxi drivers, those can also make you forget. I think this should be everything?“ Axel looked queryingly at David DeLarge, who nodded silently.

Suddenly Conroy Deux went to the trio and Axel stepped away. The Dersite kneeled down and embraced with his hand, that was attached to a strong and muscly arm, David's thin and spider-like hand. „O David, I thought that I had lost you. That we are meeting us again, in this place and under these circumstances, that you remember your own existance, this is a true miracle. Since I fear that we will be seperated again, I have to make a confession. I had always believed, that my wish to slowly and painfully shed the blood of a thousand Prospits and bath in it was only there, because it would make me happy. But the truth is that there is another reason. A reason why it would make me happy – apart from the fact that it would be quite fun to see. It would make me happy, because it would make you smile. If I could, I would try to summarize all the good things about you, but as much as I like to talk, I think I am out of words in this particular case.“ „What are trying to tell me, Conroy?“ „Oh, David...“ „Oh, Conroy...“ „Oh David, I love you and I hope that your feelings towards me are a thing you did not forget.“ „Oh Conroy, I didn't.“ Then they caressed each other and everyone clapped with tears in their eyes. The demonic angels let heart-shaped red confetti rain above them. Then they both went to a corner for sloppy makeouts and sexytimes. The only persons left in a spotlight were Trudy Travis and Urashima Keito.

Urashima sighed and got an old, bleached out photo out of a pocket of his pullover. „Love...“, he whispered and a single tear appeared in his eyes. „Listen to me, for I have also a story to tell, one that is far more tragic than everything you have ever heard. It was my involuntary fate to kill my one true love in an accident. As I realized that I couldn't go on living like that, I-“ „OH, HOW TRAGIC!“, shouted Trudy Travis. She approached Urashima and turned towards the group with a half pirouette. She didn't notice that she accidantly knocked over the warrior, who fell back into the molten lava river. „The story of a noble warrior, who loses his true love as well as himself in many ways, is truly one we should all take to our hearts. I can understand what happened to him, as I have also died and I have also lost the one thing that was most important to me: The hope of dying a meaningful and cool death and living a tragic afterlive. And it's exactly this loss that makes my existance tragic and meaningful and cool.“

Trudy kneeled down and put her right hand on her forehead in a melodramatic way. The angels were now letting white confetti rain down on Trudy, which alighted on her pale skin like snow on even more snow in a cold, heartless winter morning. There was a thunderous noise in the distance, but nobody seemed to notice it, as everyone was taken in by the tragic nature of the moment. If Trudy had noticed that there was a noise she didn't hear, she would have wondered if there even was a noise, if nobody was there to hear it. Instead she continued with her dramatic monologue.

„Let's all mourn, since the tragedies don't seem to end today! Everyone of us has his own dark fate that makes me cry. But what makes me grieve most is that all these fates seem to be so minuscule in comparison to my own fate and it's so tragic that nobody would care about these insignificant fates, if it weren't for me. Oh, the humanity! The Dersity! And the Hanarity! What terrible disaster will come next? Will the confetti become entangled in my hair? Will I have to decide between two equally mysterious paranormal boyfriends? Will-“ „Trudy, stop! Your grief is making hell implode!“, warned the ghostly Alex Alexson.

The previously ignored growling seemed to come indeed dangerously near. Stalactites started to shake and some of them even plunged into the lava rivers, where they buried the souls, whose ubiquitous cries of joy transformed into cries of anguish. Angels dropped what they had in their hands and fled from the throne room. „How terrible!“, remarked the horrified Trudy. „If hell implodes, it will never be again like it was before this horrible transformation! The sheer thought strikes me with deep mourning.“ Now the ground under the fellowship's feet began to shake. They charged towards Trudy and tried to cheer her up by telling jokes and juggling and making faces, but it was in vain. Trudy didn't listen to them anymore, if she had ever listened to her companions. Otherwise she just continued not to listen to them. When Trudy finally started to cry, everything was lost. Where the rivers of crystal clear tears touched the ground, it corroded. The artificial lawn withered. The confetti became dust. The seas of lava evaporated. The bone throne and the ground beneath it fell into the deep. Stones broke away from the ceiling and then the ceiling itself sank to the ground in endless grief over Trudy's endless grief.

Chapter 22 - La beautiful gorgeous mystical chrystalline rainbow lake Francais!!!

By kiapet

Everyone waited for the earth to stop juddering before they endeavored to arise. When they had gathered their breath, they beheld a tremendous sight! The glacier had collapsed, utterly annihilated! Before them lay a crystalline lake the likes of which they had never before perceived! The lagoon extended into the distance beyond where their eyes could survey and down to unfathomable nadirs! The sun shown off of its magnificent waters, glistening in waves of prism colors! The team stood, awestruck. Finally, the apparition Alex Alexson expressed. “This is so mammoth, it is assuredly a new Great Lake!” “Indeed,” Urashima Keitaro concurred mournfully. “We shall have to contribute it a name, for we are the discoverers of this vast watershed!” “I contemplate that it should be christened after Trudy,” Axel Rodrik interjected ecstatically, “for its exquisiteness is only exceeded by that of hers!” “No!” Trudy Travis contended. “I am not worthy of having anything termed after me, for I am only a plain girl with capabilities that are perilous to you!” “You sell yourself short,” Axel disagreed. “Your radiance hath warmed my taciturn heart in ways that I could never have forseen, much as this glacier has warmed into a lake. Please consent our admiration by countenancing us to bestow the lake with your name!” “Oh, Axel,” Trudy cried, “Though you are a rainbow drinker, I can distinguish your compassionate heart! No one has ever entitled anything after me! I have never truthfully felt love until this moment!!!” She took Axel’s head in her soft hands and tried to kiss him. However, he inserted his hand between them. “I cannot, my lady, for exceeding all else I must do my obligation to justice and find Eridan’s murderer! I cannot expose up my heart to love when my duty is unaccomplished!” A single shining, chrystalline tear fell from Trudy’s mismatched, almond shaped eyes and rolled down her cheek. “I understand, she whispered dejectedly, turning away. ”LAKE TRUDY!!!!!!!!” everyone declared. Vmsdfx Rewoi smiled to his imagined comrade, “How benevolent of them to appellation a watershed after you!!” Precipitously, a voice behind the gathering interrupted, “I do not distinguish what that implosion was concerning, but it must regard Seigneir Francais!!” The group hurriedly revolved around to discover that Maxwell Smart had snitched up behind them!!!!!! “Wherever is this location,” Maxwell continued, “And what was the origin of such a dreadfull commotion?!” “We are in France!” Chole responded impatiently. “Can you not behold that?!” Zey must contemplate me fools!! Maxwell thought. For I am Francais, and I would distinguish if ‘ere was Le France!! “You must contemplate me fools!!” Maxwell said, “For I am Francais, and I would distinguish if here was France!!” “No,” Master Chief argued, “I have voyaged throughout time and are more knowledgeable than you of such matters!” ‘Ow can anyone contest with a Frenchman in ‘is own territory?! Maxwell contemplated. I know that this is not Le France! Ze very idea is absurd!! “How can anyone contest with a Frenchman in his own territory?!” Maxwell retaliated. ”I know that this is not France! Ze very idea is absurd!!” “He did slip into a French accent there,” Booker contemplated. “Perhaps he is indeed correct!” ENOUGH!!” mAXWell thought. I shall prerequisite to transport all of zem to C.O.N.T.R.O.L. to ‘ear zere story!. “ENOUGH!!!!!!!!!” Maxwell thundered loudly. “I shall prerequisite to transport all of you to C.O.N.T.R.O.L. to hear your story.” “Where is C.O.N.T.R.O.L.?” Travis Trudy inquired. “It is in a salt mine!” Maxwll responded. Vmsdfx Rewoi elbowed his fantasy companion. “Trudy, does France actually possess any salt mines?”

Chapter 23 - 100% Indisputable Fact

By MisterTulip

Portal Labs HQ, capital of the mighty empire that was Portal Labs, was having trouble with the sheer number of people outside it. With its beautiful rivers of acid and mechanized forests, it was widely considered to be one of the world’s best holiday resorts, and the crowds swarmed to the gates accordingly. None of the bouncers had the heart to tell the crowds that it was actually a research facility and not a resort, and thus they gathered there every day, hoping to be one of the lucky few to make it in, never quite realizing that the secret to entering was to wear an employee badge.

All this ran through Gabe Johnson’s head as he exited the refrigerator to greet the roomful of people responsible for finally unlocking it. “Thank you, sirs,” he said solemnly, nodding his heads to each of them in turn, although at some point he lost track of who he still had to nod to and began just doing it in circles, hoping that it would eventually catch everyone. “Now, I’m afraid I have some bad news for all of you. It may be prudent for those of you with weaker constitutions to sit down, or at least hunch over somewhat, to minimize the blunt impact trauma you’ll incur when you faint.”

Half of the room sat down, prompting those standing in it to momentarily lose their balance. Gabe Johnson laughed nervously, then yelled, “That offer does not apply to robots!” Making a disappointed noise, the room leveled itself out again, and all of its residents chose to remain standing, although Trudy Travis looked somewhat pale.

Gabe Johnson waited. “Really? Nobody sitting down? Alright then, just remember, you’ll be much less useful to the forces of good if you’re in the hospital with an eight-inch lump on your head.” His warning out of the way, he began his briefing. “To begin with, I need to ask: Have any of you heard of SBURB?” He didn’t wait for a response from the room’s residents before he plowed on. “Good. Because it’s a key part of this whole mess.

“Once upon a time, I was a brilliant researcher. One of the best! I could gather data more quickly than any of my coworkers except for Fern Quincy, and enter it into our databases faster, too. Eventually, they decided to put me onto the hardest task they had: Game coding. My job was to brave dangerous ancient ruins and make a usable game out of the data inside, all while secretly running the company on the side.” He paused for a moment as he realized what he just said. “Um, forget that last bit. It’s classified.”

Vmsdfx Rewoi looked up from a muttered conversation he was having with the empty air. “Sorry, what was that? I couldn’t hear you over Trudy here,” he pointed at the air he was previously talking to, “being obstinate.”

The rest of the room’s residents coughed, before Axel Roderick finally spoke up. “Meh, ! doubt any of us were actually l!sten!ng to you, for one reason or another. Why don’t you just g!ve us the qu!ck version?”

Gabe Johnson groaned. “Fine. Sure. Here it is: I created SBURB. Seigneur Français hijacked it so he would always win. Quick enough for you?”

Travis Trudy’s mouth widened in shock, stretching to the point where it felt nearly as tired as his arms had after carrying his refrigerator all the way to Portal Labs HQ. Maxwell Smart smirked as the pieces began to come together. Master Chief’s face wasn’t visible under his helmet, but if it were, he would likely have been wearing the same impassive expression as always. Ghost Alex Alexson’s perpetual frown deepened. Axel Roderick’s nose flared, a somewhat impressive accomplishment when one considered its density. Urashima Keitaro, sensing that storytime was over, stopped pretending to pay attention, closed his eyes, and started snoring, making up for all the sleep he’d lost over the last few days. Trudy Travis’s face twisted momentarily into the shape of the top of a pine tree as her shock triggered her powers accidentally. Vmsdfx Rewoi stroked his goatee thoughtfully. Trudy’s Father frowned, adjusted his hearing aid, and asked, “What was that?” Chole Phelps nodded absently, then turned his determined glare back towards Master Chief’s armor, upon which he was at that time painting on various denouncements of the armor’s bearer as a “name-thief”. Booker DeWitt’s eyes flitted to the revolver on his belt, wondering what it could do to Seigneur Français. John Marston adopted the most serious expression he could muster. And Blasto, the first Hanar Specter, fainted, landing head-first on the floor.

There was a long silence in the three seconds or so that followed, and then all conscious members of the crowd began talking all at once, trying to talk over each other and basically making it impossible to actually hear what any individual member of it was saying. Finally, in exasperation, Ghost Alex Alexson used THEE AWSOME SILENCE to make everyone in the room shut up, cutting off Gabe Johnson’s attempt to restore order in the process.

“Really, people? You’re actually arguing about this? I’d have thought the answer was obvious. Clearly I was overestimating your intelligence. However, allow me to spell it out for you: I am a ghost. Therefore, I shouldn’t have any trouble defeating Seigneur Français. What was so hard about that? Just send me after him, and this whole mess will be over with. Why did we even bother with this meeting at all?”

The crowd was incapable of making any sounds to disagree with him, but Chole Phelps temporarily paused his graffitiing of Master Chief’s armor to write “DUMB PLAN” in big letters on the floor, to which the rest of the room’s conscious residents nodded. Groaning, Ghost Alex Alexson dropped THEE AWSOME SILENCE and instead used THE GRATE HIPNOSIS on everyone in the room, splitting them between talking about how great his plan actually was and telling Chole Phelps off for writing something so outrageous on the floor.


Little more discussion happened before the meeting was disbanded. By the time THE GRATE HIPNOSIS wore off, Ghost Alex Alexson had already left to chase after Seigneur Français, and after Gabe Johnson got a couple staff members to prevent the lump on Blasto, the first Hanar Specter, ’s head from growing too large, they were distracted from discussing the mission, instead splitting up and discussing food, cartoons, and various other non-plan-related stuff. As it turned out, Portal Labs HQ had a pretty great set of refreshment stands, as well as a wing full of high-quality imitation hotel rooms, so most of them felt right at home.

Eventually, Trudy Travis and Trudy’s Father drifted into an imitation hotel room together, Trudy Travis absentmindedly carrying a pot of tea with her. As she sat down at the room’s only table, Trudy’s Father asked, “So what was that meeting all about, anyway? I never quite figured it out before it ended.”

“Well, the short version was that Gabe Johnson made SBURB and Seigneur Français always wins it.”

“Uh huh. Well, that’s a mess, isn’t it? Especially with Ghost Alex Alexson gone like he is.” Trudy’s Father sat down next to her. “Hey, is that tea? Can I have some?” Trudy Travis looked down, remembered the teapot she was carrying, and shrugged. “Sure, why not? This should be enough for both of us.” She reached for a pair of cups from the other side of the table, filled them both with tea, put one in front of Trudy’s Father, and emptied the other in a single gulp. “Hey, I just had a thought. We need all the help we can get if we want to fight Seigneur Français outside of Ghost Alex Alexson’s stupid plan, right?”

Trudy’s Father nodded slowly. “In that case,” Trudy Travis said, “Why not summon your army of Ninjas to help? I imagine they’ll be useful in the fight, and really, they don’t get to work often enough any more. I imagine they’re running up some big debts during all the periods when you’re goofing off without them.”

Trudy’s Father shook his head. “Well, I’m not sure if you’ve considered the econ—”

“PLEEEEEEEEASSSSSSSEEEEEE?” She looked at him with the biggest eyes she could muster that quickly.

Trudy’s Father grumbled. “Fine, fine, I’ll call the Ninjas. But just this once. After that, if you want me to call the Ninjas, you’d better have enough cash on hand to pay their wages yourself!”

Trudy’s Father fished around his pocket for a few seconds, turned his hearing aid all the way down, and then blew on the whistle he’d bought a while ago, which he knew that only Ninjas could hear. It was a very useful device when one was willing to foot the economic costs associated with that particular group’s help. As expected, within a few seconds, the room filled with Ninjas, all piling in until the space felt to Trudy Travis like a metaphorical can of sardines. Except that the sardines were Ninjas. And also, unexpectedly, zombies.

“When was your army of Ninjas zombified?” Trudy Travis asked curiously.

“What was that?” asked Trudy’s Father, whose hearing aid was still turned down.

“When was your army of Ninjas zombified?” Trudy Travis asked again, once he turned it back up.

“Some time since last time I saw them, presumably,” said Trudy’s Father. “This was highly unexpected. I wonder if they’ll accept less pay now.” One of the Ninjas growled menacingly at Trudy’s Father. “Clearly not. Still, this is a wonderful turn of events! If ninjas are awesome and zombies are awesome, basic mathematics says that zombie ninjas are awesome squared. That’s, like... Awesome times the awesome!”

“...Ignoring that appalling display of mathematical ineptitude, are you going to pay them, or will I need to point them to the cash myself?”

“Seriously, this is amazing. In fact...” Trudy’s Father let out a gasp at the sheer brilliance of the thought he’d just had, “That’s it! We’ll name them the no plants squad! Finally, a brilliant reference to use as my army’s title! I thought this day would never come. Thank you, Plants Vs. Zombies, for stealing all my attention for two weeks after I got you! If not for you, my army might have stayed nameless forever!”

Trudy Travis shook her head. “Right. Well, anyway...” She turned to the head Ninja, “Follow me, his money’s this way.”


The next day, everyone got together in the main room for a new briefing by Gabe Johnson.

“Ladies, gentlemen, and others,” he began, “Welcome to the beginning of the end. In just a few moments, I will open a portal to Seigneur Français using my Space Majicks. At that time, if any of you are not present, you’re getting left behind, so you’d better stick around. Same goes for anyone who isn’t listening. Yes, I mean you, Ghost Alex Alexson!”

There was the sound of an explosion in the distance.

“I hope you’re happy! If you hadn’t ditched us to go fight Seigneur Français yourself, you might have actually gotten the chance to fight him! What were you even thinking?”

The crowd was rapidly losing interest in his speech. They began chatting amongst themselves, ignoring the increasingly angry rants against Ghost Alex Alexson, until the sound of a second, much nearer, explosion finally shook Gabe Johnson out of his rant. “Um, I mean, let’s go!” he said, already concentrating his Space Majicks to open the portal.

As the portal formed, the wall burst open. “I hope I’m not late,” said Optimus Prime, stepping through and putting down his rocket launcher. “I’ve decided that I want to help you all take my revenge on Seigneur Français, and I didn’t hear about this party until an hour ago. I was afraid I’d missed you.”

Gabe Johnson glared at him. “Well, you interrupted my speech. I hope you’re happy. And how did you even hear about us in the first place? This was supposed to be a secret briefing!”

Optimus Prime looked uncomfortable for a moment, but then shrugged it off. “Anyway, here I am. Let’s get going!”

“Wait a minute,” Gabe Johnson said. “You’re not coming along. Despite what you may have thought after seeing the Ninja army which I refuse to refer to by its official title, this portal is a delicate thing. A robot trying to go through it would not only fail to get through, but also likely break it down entirely, forcing me to waste another two minutes making a new one.”

“...Wait, what? I want through all this effort for nothing? Seriously? Just ignore me because of some petty failure to—”

“Looks that way. Alright, everyone in!” Gabe Johnson said, and everyone went into the portal, except for Optimus Prime, who was busy complaining.


Chapter 24 - Homoeroticism is a Hell of a Drug

By mitspeiler

Previously on Prospit Nights (Carry on my wayward so~on!/Don’t you cry no more~!):


                A be-fedoraed troll whose horns are so small he could pass for human stands on a rooftop gazing out at the city as his leather jacket flaps heroically in the breeze, a burgundy shout pole stitched on the back of it.  he fiddles with an Aquarius pin stained with a drop of violet blood.

Axel Rodrick:  October 12th, 19XX: Tonight, a Prince died in Troll New York.

                He dives off the building and pulls out his grapple gun, shooting off the hook to another building and swinging on the line.

Axel Rodrick: The streets are extended gutters and the gutters are a rainbow of blood and when the drains finally scab over, all the cheese creatures will drown. The accumulated filth of all their pailing and culling will foam up about their bulges and all the whores and high-bloods will look up and shout “Save us!”...and I'll look down, and I’ll whisper “no.”

                Crashes through a window, frightening the trolls inside.


                Shows Alex Alexson being mauled by a horde of Glaswegian bears (as in a species of bear indigenous to Glasgow, not bears that are simply from that city) made of glass shards, only to be resurrected as a ghost.  He grins as his eyes flash white, trapped inside a circle of holy fire.  The Winchester brothers are there for some reason.

Alex Alexson: I’m here to save the future…WITH THE POWER OF STEAAAAAAAAM!


                Andrew Hussie sits at his computer, fingers tented evilly.

Andrew Hussie: There is only one way to destroy Prospit Nights.  I WILL WRITE A SCATHING REVIEW!

                Hussie begins typing like a madman and laughing maniacally.  His computer screen reads:  “The author of Prospit Nights may in fact be the literal devil.  He is so full of shit that I’m pretty sure he’s actually composed entirely of the excrement of serial killers brought to life by an orgy of internet trolls conducted on top of Hitler’s grave, or to be more clear, the sewer that Hitler’s ashes were dumped into. It doesn't even seem to be written; instead, it gives the impression of having been shouted onto paper.  What remains is the debris of sour jokes rising up around his ankles until he drowns in his own laughter.  (I didn’t like it)”


                Blasto wraps his tentacles around Chole and sobs into the big, beefy man’s chest.

Blasto:  We’re barely in this chapter.


                Troll Bruce Campbell attaches an oversized tube of green lipstick to his arm, severed at the wrist.  He applies it to his mouth.

Troll Bruce Campbell: Groovy.


                A horde of ninja zombies emerges from the depths of the earth to terrorize a small town while dancing very badly to Michael Jackson’s Thriller.

Random Townsman (crouching in terror):  What are you!?!??!

Zombie:  The no plants squad.


                Gregorian chant is heard amid the canals of Tokyo as Trudy Travis resurrects from the dead by bursting out of the chest of the previous Trudy.

Trudy Travis: I am the Lord thy God!


                Ms. Paint is trapped in a car that has just flipped over.  An ominous pair of black leather shoes treads across the screen and the camera pans up to reveal Jason Statham’s face.  He pulls out a cell phone and talks into it without dialing because Hollywood.

Jason Statham: Andrew Hussie.  You don’t know me…

                The car explodes, killing Ms. Paint.

Jason Statham: But you’re about to.


Opening credits play.  Aaaaaaaand scene!


                Maxwell Smart, Ghost Alex Alexson, Axel Roderick, Urashima Keitaro, Trudy Travis, Trudy’s Father, the no plants squad, Travis Trudy, Vmsdfx Rewoi, Master Chief, Chole Phelps, Booker Dewitt, John Marston and Blasto were racing towards Prospit on their hyper-space capable Star Destroyer going at near Warp Factor 9.  Which is to say that they were sitting in seats that were just slightly too narrow and complaining about the service.

                Vmsdfx was sitting by the window, stroking his goatee.  Far ahead, the golden planet was emerging into view amid the black void of the Incipisphere.  “Hey,” called a soft twinkling voice.  “Vmsdfx!  Get the stewardess to give us some headphones so we can watch the movie!”  His imaginary friend was sitting in the seat next to him and tugging on his shirtsleeve.  She managed to look exactly like the other girl in his session, the beautiful Trudy Travis, with her one green eye and one eye of an indefinably beautiful new color.  His imaginary friend was probably a manifestation of his Heart powers.  Probably.

                “I don’t know,” he said.  “These Carapatians are kind of rude.  Also most of them were eaten by the zombies.”  Michael Jackson burped loudly somewhere on the spaceship.

                His friend sighed exasperatedly and rolled her eyes.  “Then ask this guy here!” she said, pointing at her lap.  Vmsdfx narrowed his eyes, annoyed at the potential dirty joke, then realized that she had actually manifested on top of someone else who actually had physical mass.

                His imaginary friend dissipated, leaving behind a brown-haired Japanese boy with sad eyes and thick glasses.  “Can I borrow your headphones?” Vmsdfx asked.  “My friend wants to watch the movie.”

                Keitaro looked him in the eyes, leaking black liquid melancholy from his very pores.  “Did I ever tell you—”

                “Yes,” Vmsdfx said, politely but very firmly.  In fact, mostly just firmly.  “You’ve told everyone about how you killed your true love with Excalibur—”

                “Soulcalibur,” he interjected.

                “More than once,” Vmsfdx finished, ignoring him.  “Now headphones?”  His imaginary friend appeared at his shoulder and smiled hopefully.

                “It all started when the demon Charade attacked Hinata looking for the Soul Edge hidden underneath,” Keitaro began.  Vmsdfx sighed.


                Troll Bruce Campbell was leaning against the railing of the Black Pearl, gazing angrily into the distance.  A space-whale swam by.  He flipped it off with his lipstick-hand.  Andrew Hussie came up to him and offered him an ice cream cone.  “Come on Bruce.  Ice cream.”  He said nothing.  “Troll Bruce Campbellllll,” Hussie said in a sing-song voice, shoving the ice cream in his general direction, “ice cream!”  Troll Bruce Campbell took the ice cream cone and threw it overboard.  It hit a space manta-ray, who was most-displeased by the development.

                “Why are you mad?” asked Andrew Hussie.  “Sugoi?”

                “I’m mad,” said Troll Bruce Campbell in his sexy Bruce Campbell way, “because probably every single chapter with me in it has an Army of Darkness reference.  That’s not a bad thing, but I really wanted to take over this ship by doing that boomstick bit.  I probably even did it in the last fucking chapter and I just don’t know.”

                “Gomenasai!” Andrew Hussie exclaimed.  “You can still make a Spider-Man reference!”

                Troll Bruce Campbell rubbed his chin, which was sadly free of stubble as my headcanon dictates that trolls do not have facial hair.  “That’s an idea but it’s just not the same.  Well fuck it.”  Bruce Campbell pulled out his scattergun, the legendary Blunder’s Boomstick, which fired high-yield energy cluster of turbo-heated photons and alpha rays, a heart mixture that will literally scatter a target’s atoms all over space.  Shooting into the air, he shouted, “THIS IS MY—”

                “Ahoy mateys,” shouted Captain Jack Sparrow from the bridge, “planet ho, savvy?!”  Up ahead, the gleaming city planet of Coruscant Prospit faded into view.  Troll Bruce Campbell incinerated a dude anyway.  Mr. Gibbs will be missed.

                “Kawai’i,” said Andrew Hussie.


                A few minutes later, the Black Pearl was lashed to one of the many millions of towers the city had to offer as mooring posts and the crew was disembarking.  “Ere’s a compass and a gun with one bullet in it,” said Jack, handing said objects to Hussie.  “Keep an eye out for space sea turtles.”

        “Arigato, other Jack,” said Andrew, bowing.  Or rather, making the emoticon for bowing, onz.  Or even more rather, just saying ‘onz’ aloud.

        “Other Jack?” Sparrow questioned.

        Jack Noir emerged from the ship’s hold, looking incredibly haggard and world-weary.  There were deep bags under his carapaced eyes, like he’d seen things he could never unsee.  “I just want to say,” he said, grabbing hold of Jack, “that this really is for your own good!”  And then he tried to stab the captain.  Fortunately Jack Sparrow, Jack Noir’s knife was stopped by a bottle of rum that he carried in front of his heart.

        Sparrow flashed a toothy grin and a wink as Jack stood there flabbergasted, temporarily confused at the idea that humans bleed liquor.  “Remember this as the day you almost stabbed Captain Jack Sparrow!” said Jack Sparrow, leaping back aboard the Black Pearl.

        “I was trying to save him from this living Hell,” Jack muttered, grey tongue lolling, eyes full of tears.

        “Come on Jack ol’ buddy,” said Troll Bruce Campbell, grabbing Jack’s shoulder.  “At least we still have each other.”  Jack growled.

        “Yes Jackie-kun,” said Andrew Hussie, grabbing his other shoulder.  “you are very saiko!  And we are the most saiko of friends.”

“piss off,” he said, swinging his knife around.  But it was too late, they had already started singing.


We’re three caballeros!

Three gay caballeros!

We’ll always be birds of a feather!

We’re happy amigos!

No matter where he goes,

There one, two, and three goes,

We’re always together!


We’re three happy chappies,

With snappy sarapes,

You’ll find us beneath our sombreros!

We’re brave and we’ll stay so!

We’re bright as a peso!

Jack roared in agony.  “WHO SAYS SO??!?!”


We say so!

The three caballeros!

Jack sighed.  You can’t escape the Disney.










                “Holy,” said a gruff, vaguely English voice, “fucking,” it continued, “SHIT,” it concluded.  Andrew Hussie turned around, knowing that generally such calls are directed at he himself.  There stood another ghost, same as he, but much douchebaggier looking and covered in steam-powered power armor.

                “Steampunk is not sugoi,” Hussie hissed.

                “Fool,” said the ghost, spooky glowing mist spewing from his mouth as he spoke, “my ghostly powers allow me to create infinite amounts of spooky mist!  This in turn provides supra-cosmic power to my steam-powered machines!  I have moved beyond mere steampunk!  I, Alex Alexson, am ghostpunk!

                “Wow,” said Andrew Hussie, glaring.  “Never in my life have I hated anybody as strongly as I hate you now in this moment.  I swear to Me Almighty that up until now I did not know the meaning of hate.  A sexy piece of alien jailbait came close, but from the moment you opened your grody and possibly British mouth, before any retarded sounds even came out of it, I knew I would have to double kill you while sporting a massive boner.”  He whipped out his magic wand, which immediately transformed into a shining white magnum revolver.  “Get your little shota ass over here, bitch.”

                Alexson drew his enormous ghostpunk pistol, a clunky-yet-badass looking thing covered in dials and knobs and pipes and little wibbly-wobbly bits that probably didn’t do anything, all of which were aglow with the spooky ghost-lights.  “I don’t know about any of that,” he smirked, cocking the gun (which also hissed because steam), “but there can only be one ghost-themed superhero.”

                “I’m no hero,” said Hussie.  “I’M GOD.”  And with that, they both let loose a volley of bullets, Alexson’s blue tinted, mist-wreathed bullets streaking through the air against Hussie’s eldritch rainbow-colored ones.  The projectiles slammed into their targets, blowing big meaty holes into each other, but being ghosts, they couldn’t die again, and merely felt excruciating pain, causing them to wish they could.

                “This is stupid,” said Booker DeWitt, all angstily and brooding.  As compelling a character as he is, Booker thought, his archetype really has been overdone this past decade and perhaps should be given a rest for awhile, which is why he enjoys Homestuck so much; none of the characters really fit said archetype.  While contemplating this and scratching his head with his devil-hook, Troll Bruce Campbell sauntered over.

                “Wow, you’re like a parody of the kind of person I am,” said Booker, pointing with armored, whirling death-gauntlet sheathing his arm.

                “No,” said Troll Bruce Campbell, “you’re just a pussified version of the kind of person I am!”  He twisted the tube of lipstick and it instantly transformed into a chainsaw.  “I’m your daddy, little bitch-boy.”

                “Fuck yes,” said Booker, brandishing the whirling devil hook, spinning so quickly it conjured a whirlwind and made the air crackle with energy.  “I’ve been looking for a good brawl all day!”  He conjured crystalline spikes from his offhand that crackled with lightning.

                Troll Bruce Campbell fired Blunder’s Boomstick over Booker’s ear.  “Be a sport and get daddy a beer would you?”


                Keitaro yawned as Hussie and Alexson took turns shooting each other in the dick only for it to re-grow in a burst of spooky ghost mist.  “I miss whatever my true love’s name was.  That girl who beat me up a bunch.  She was hot.”

                Axel whispered into his ear from behind.  “I will gather EVIDENCE—DOCUMENT every foul LIE.  I will FORGE my MANIFESTO.  My CHALLENGE to any FREE MIND that may find it.  Like a NOTE in a BOTTLE.  Cast into the OCEAN. The mind of troll must be RECLAIMED—if not by THIS generation or by the NEXT, then SOME day.  Some DECADE.  It is not in MY power to EFFECT the change. I haven't the MIGHT.  I am not the ANSWER.”

                Keitaro turned around to look at the big troll.  “Who the fuck are you?”

“I am only the SHOUT POLE.”  Holy shit, thought Keitaro, this guy is nuts.  Some other part of Keitaro, however, was intrigued.   “Go on.”

                Axel blinked, flushing deep burgundy.  “No one has ever put up with my shit like that before.”

                “No, you’re very interesting,” said Keitaro, stepping forward.

                “Um,” said Axel, “Aglets.”

                “Yeah?” said Keitaro, getting even closer.

                “Their purpose is very sinister—” Axel did not get to finish as Keitaro had grabbed him and laid a passionate kiss on his face, then dragged him to the ground and began to tear off his clothes.  “Let’s see that shout pole,” he muttered.


                Seeing that this duel could not be won, Hussie put away his gun and produced his desktop computer, beginning to pound away on it like a madman with pinwheels for arms.  “And then Alex Alexson became vulnerable to gold, one of the most common elements in the city.  This is a reference to obscure Superman character Mon-El and his weakness to lead; I am so very clever.”

                Alex started coughing up blood and writhing in pain on the ground.  “NOOOOOOOOOO!  THE FUTURE OF STEAAAAAAAAAAAM!!!11one!!!”

                Hussie snickered.  “And then Andrew had a gun lightsaber shotgun sword katana hammer lighthammer explosive tipped harpoon made of solid gold!”  The huge, phallic weapon appeared in his hand, like a monk’s spade combined with a cat’s penis.  He leveled it at Alexson’s head.  “Say hello to meta-Satan for me!” he said, and thrust it downwards—

                Only to be stopped by a nimbus of blue psychic energy.  Lillith Armageddon’s breathy voice like liquid sex called out from across the dueling ground.  “I know my opinion doesn’t matter much, being plain and all,” said the gorgeous troll with poor body-image, her symbol flashing across her forehead, “but you can’t kill him!”  She was close to tears now.  “He is our only hope!”  Lillith heaved a sob, falling to her knees dramatically, her considerable assets Gainaxing most enticingly as she did so.  All of the heterosexual men and lesbians in the crowd glared at Hussie, each and every one of them sporting a magnificent nosebleed as well as a heroic something else (even the lesbians).  He sighed, wiped the blood off his nose, and put the harpoon down.


                Unbeknownst to everyone else, Trudy Travis, arguably the most beautiful girl in the cast except for every other girl, had stolen the Holy Grail and gone off in search of her beloved’s tomb.  Deep in the bowels of the golden city planet, the metal long ago tarnished to an ugly orange, carved with the faces of the stern ancient rulers of Prospit, pagan idols to the horrorterrors banned from the city surface yet still held in reverence here, looming black and damned over everything in her path, she discovered the final resting place of the Hansome Brigadeer.  The hard-shelled bug-man was just as handsome as when he’d been alive, never mind that half his face was torn off and the other half horribly, horribly scarred, or that his limbs were missing and had been replaced by vaguely phallic prosthetics, or even that he really wasn’t all that handsome to begin with, really what do girls see in ugly guys, and don’t say personality because this dude was a douche bag of the highest caliber and not even funny, at least not on purpose.  Why I can’t get a date I’ll never know, Jegus Fucking Grist….


                Anyway, feeling a quivering in her lady-parts, Trudy pulled the Holy Grail from her chastity belt modus and unlocked it with the key that she had held secret for her entire life.  Now was the time for it to be used.

                Sophie Neveu Saint-Clair, the true heir of Jesus Christ emerged from Trudy’s copy of The Da Vinci Code.  “Que’est-ce que c’est?” she asked.

                Trudy slapped Sophie Neveu Saint-Clair.  “Cut the foreigner bullshit and heal my man, cagna muta!” she shouted in her native Japanese.

                Sophie Neveu Saint-Clair, the vessel of Christ’s blood, shrugged and waved her hands vaguely over the corpse.  Within seconds, the Hansome Brigadeer was resurrected.  “Baby doll!” he shouted, enveloping Trudy in his arms.  “Mio bel generale di brigata,” she responded happily.  The two of them kissed passionately and sloppily, slopping saliva and other passionate juices all over each other.  The Sangreal Sophie Neveu Saint-Clair looked on, bored.

                “FUCK.  THIS.  SHIT.” Said the Evil Father From Dead Poets Society, an evil warlord from Dimension, sorry, Dimention X who is trying to destroy happiness forever, stepping through a douche-mensional portal into the catacombs.  You’ve done it now.  You’re being withdrawn from Welton.  Tomorrow.  Fucking.  Morning.

                “Oh we’re not even the same gender!” Trudy snapped, blue flames erupting from her nostrils as she clung to HB.  “Or are you un razzista too?” she asked, squinting menacingly as she stroked the Brigadeer’s black, chitinous, insectile chest in defiance.

                “WORSE,” admitted the Evil Father From Dead Poets Society.  He had the look of a man about to enroll his son in Braighton Military School.  Shakespeare? That foreign bisexual commie can suck all of the cocks.

                Roaring with untold and even untellable rage, he screamed “YOUR FATHER KILLED MY TWIN.  SHE WAS ALSO MY COUSIN.  THAT MAKES IT TWICE AS BAD!!”  He fired a Stern Fatherly Beam out of his mouth, a ray of grey, loveless soulless lifeless light that cut through the air like strict disappointment, not merely killing HB, melting his body down into a gooey grey sludge with no substance but what the Evil Father From Dead Poets Society thought he needed, which was barely any at all, just enough to make money, that root of all evil, but worse, launching HB’s soul through a burning portal into a hell dimension known as military school.  We're trying very hard to understand why it is that you insist on defying us, Brigadeer. Whatever the reason, we're not gonna let you ruin your life like this.  It’s for your own fucking good.

                Trudy screamed in agony and rage, eyes glowing the same color as her magnificent Trudy’s-right-eye-colored right eye, hair burning with light as she began to activate all of her powers at once.  Now was the time to unleash hell. She would no longer be ashamed.  She would be a fury.  Her body burned with white hot fire; fragments of the flames broke off and transformed into angels, long wormy tales and skull-like faces ushering in the end of all things on dragon’s wings, singing songs of destruction in their native language; pure thought.  All of Prospit hummed with life and raw destructive power and the light shining from its core rendered everything translucent and for an instant the planet was brighter than its star, Skaia, source of life and reason.

                The Evil Father From Dead Poets Society yawned and shot her dead with an explosive-tipped whaling harpoon, bursting open her chest and scattering its contents about the room.

                He looked at the Holy Grail.  “DAN BROWN.  IS FULL OF HORSE-SHIT.”  With a puff of logic, Sophie Neveu Saint-Clair turned back into a cup.  Tell us how you feel.  Nothing?  Well then, let’s go to bed.


                Conroy Deux was in his office, a swanky place with dim lighting, ebony furniture, and plush red velvet cushions.  His goons were holding down a poor Prospitian who had failed to pay his protection money while the droll little sadist danced on the man’s fingers.  “Twas brillig and the slithy toves would gyre and gimble in the wabe,” he sang, “all mimsy were the borogroves, and the mome raths outgrabe!”  He bounced up and down on the left hand upon the ball of his foot until the shell cracked, “One!  Two!  One!  Two!!” leaking red all over the carpet.  “And through and through!  His vorpal blade went snicker-snack!”  He produced a switchblade and brought it close to the quivering bug-man’s eye, “he left it dead,” he menaced, “and with its head, he went galumphing—”

                The door exploded open with rainbow fire and in stepped the hulking Cherubic form of Seigneur Français, the evil meta-demon behind everything, accompanied by his loyal henchperson Caius Ballad; on his shoulder was the brutalized form of Deux’s lover, the crafty David DeLarge, drooling out his lifesblood onto the carpet.  “Tuez-les tous. Épargner le gros bill.” droned Français.  Ballad nodded and with ninja-like movements he assassinated everyone in the room, somehow moving his ridiculous, nigh-on retarded looking overly clichéd gives-anime-a-bad-name sword with lightning fast speed because of course.

                “It is done my lord,” he droned, voice drained of all personality it might have once had…much like the Final Fantasy franchise hey-o!

                “Bon, bon,” Said Seigneur Français, strolling confidently up to Deux’s desk and sitting in the chair, kicking his feet up onto the desk.  CD, in blind rage, tried to tackle Ballad, only to be smashed against the wall by him, using David DeLarge as a club.  Winded, dizzy, CD felt like passing out but knew he couldn’t; Ballad began to explain, “Your love for each other is too pure…”

                A shadowy figure emerged in the doorway.  CD recognized that handlebar mustache anywhere; it was the villain Reno Blight, the man who was also behind everything.  “The deck was stacked against you from the beginning,” he said, stroking his mustache sensually.  “You thought you were the ace, but you were really just a joker.  Also, aces can only be ones in baccarat.  You were a one.  If you prefer that to being a fool that is.  If not, then not.  But I am baccarat themed so…”  CD blacked out.


                When he awoke, he recognized the airfields of Prospit.  A whole bunch of freaks and non-leprechaun zombies who may or may not have been ninjas were arrayed there.  Caius Ballad cleared his throat.  “Ah yes,” said Blight, looking a little embarrassed.  “I am the new leader of your enemies, the Leather.”  In shambled in a leathery husk of a corpse, the zombified form of a once proud leprechaun.  “As you can see, I made some improvements.  They are now one hundred percent loyal, and don’t have any pesky personalities getting in the way.”

                Seigneur Français bellowed in rage.  “Tuez-les tous!” and the Leather charged.


                Keitaro wiped the blood leaking from the rainbow-drinker’s bite marks on his neck.  The Soulcalibur hummed in its sheath, wrapped in layers and layers of fabric and leather.  “You want…to be drawn now?”  He muttered.  The sword hummed.  After years of doubt, he unwrapped the weapon, and wielding its blinding light, he charged.

                Axel followed after him, drawing his comically enormous handgun, glowing bright white from having just had a full meal and also sex.  “Never compromise,” he growled.  “Not even in the face of Armageddon!”

                Lillith turned to look.  “What’s that about my face?” she said, sadly.  Then she became angry.  Jegus, she wasn’t that ugly was she?  Why did people have to talk about here behind her back?  It wasn’t any fair!  There was a guy who was a literal jellyfish on this team!  She knew that she maybe had a little bad self-esteem, but even with that she never thought she was uglier than Blasto, and everyone loved the fucker!

                Deep inside, the blood-rage of the highbloods came to a boil and blue-hot curls of energy poured off her body in waves.  She lifted into the air, dress and long black hair fluttering all around like a black cloud.  Cans watched, dry black corpse-blood leaking from his face in arousal.  With a twitch of Lillith’s finger, he exploded from the inside-out.


                “Fuck yes,” said Travis Trudy, grinning manically and watching Lillith murder dudes in the air while being sexy.  He wanted to be furiously masturbating right now, but there were zombies about, so he did the next best thing and pulled out his trusty knives.  “Never thought I’d get to use these bad-boys again I didn’t!”  Doze and Itchy approached menacingly drooling dirty spittle and muttering about brains possibly.  They were promptly filled with knives.


                Troll Bruce Campbell and Booker DeWitt stood back-to-back, firing off their weapons at zombies and destroying any that came too close with their beyond badass melee weapons.  “Bruce!” shouted booker, dodging a zombie claw.  He tore out its ribcage with his devil hook.  Literally tore it out, like, the meat was still there on the body, just the bones were gone.  “Ammo!” he tossed Troll Bruce Campbell a packet of photonic shotgun shells.

                Troll Bruce Campbell loaded the weapon just as he bisected a Leather with easy grace. “Groovy.”  He’d already made that reference, but honestly he could listen to himself make it all fucking day and it wouldn’t get old.

                Booker incinerated one that was creeping up behind.  “You owe me one!”  Troll Bruce Campbell sneered at him.  “Thank HIC for that ass,” muttered the grizzled actor.


                Zombie Sawbuck warped around the battlefield by pinching himself to pop into and out of timelines, wreaking havoc behind the front lines, smacking people with a zombified dolphin he’d stolen from the no plants squad.  “There’s only one thing we can do about this,” said Vmsdfx’s best friend.  “Toss me!”

                “You’re!  Not!  Real!” he shouted, and everyone turned to look at him like he was an idiot.  His imaginary friend giggled.

                “You don’t really believe that,” she said, extending her hand.

                “You know we can’t touch,” he snarled.  “That’s how I know you’re not real!”

                “Just try it!” she said.  “What have you got to lose?”  She gave him the most innocent smile she could muster, and Vmsdfx’s heart melted.

                “Okay,” he said, and took his friend splinter by the hand, the slightest of weights pulling him down.  It might have been his imagination.  He turned and made a throwing motion, and she shouted “WHEE!” as she flew through the air, silvery hair streaming like the bubbling wake of a dolphin tearing through the water with both power and elegance as she collided with the monstrous Sawbuck (seriously what the fuck is with his face; now imagine it as a zombie bleugh) and passed through him. No, into him.

                Vmsdfx’s personality splinter took hold of the fragile zombie brain; there was hardly anything there so it was easy.  “Cool,” she said with his mouth, and returned to the battle.


                Eggs was overrun by zombie footballers and devoured.  Biscuit’s oven was set fire and he was roasted alive.  Stitch’s stitches were pulled out and he unraveled.  Then Keitaro rifled through his war-chest and discovered the voodoo dolls.  “Looks like we win,” he said.  Soulcalibur hummed with agreeance, and he plunged the holy blade into the container.  Each and every surviving Leather exploded with holy fire.

                “Looks like I win,” spat Reno blight, sneering like an asshole.  “Royal flush.”

                “That’s not a thing you can do in baccarat!”  Keitaro shouted, shaking his fist in anger.

                “Shit,” said Blight, looking troubled.  “I still won!  HAH!”  Inside each and every Leather there was a cluster of C4 set to go off if every one of them was killed.  It did.

                “NOOOOOOOOO!” shouted Vmsdfx as his best friend was engulfed in flames, running to her aid.

                “It hurts Vmsdfx!” she screamed as her host-body was incinerated.  All around the battlefield were similar cries of pain and rage as our heroes were exploded, their success instantly transformed into terrifying failure.

                Blight pulled out a derringer and shot Keitaro in the knee.  As the little Asian man fell to the ground, sword humming sympathetically, the gun transformed into a voodoo doll stuck full of pins.  Blight removed them all, and the Leather returned, hale and hearty and strong as ever.  “The banker always wins.  Baccarat.”  He didn’t even care that you don’t say baccarat when you win baccarat.


                Up above, the Black Pearl had been taken over not by Troll Bruce Campbell, who was probably dead maybe, but by the last remaining zombie.  He had used a ninja teleporting no-jutsu to appear on board and dispatched Captain Jack Sparrow by throwing his rum overboard.  He was gravely wounded, having had a large chunk bitten out of his brain by a Leather.  “So that’s what it feels like,” muttered the zombie.  “Not cool.”  He would not survive the night, he knew, nor even the hour most likely, so instead he would sacrifice himself.

                The Black Pearl careened downwards as he gave the wheel a hard yank.  “Because nothing beats a zombie ninja on a pirate ship,” he muttered, fading away to death.


                The Black Pearl smashed into the newly risen horde of Leathers, its black powder and emergency spare rum exploding on contact with the ground because Hollywood, slaughtering the shit out of them.  It stopped short of the main three villains.  Reno Blight sneered.  “The banker always—”

                One final, hearty explosion flung the mast like an explosive tipped whaling harpoon right through the black icy void he called his heart.  The spirits of a hundred-thousand angry space whales took possession of the mast at that moment, driving it with the hate only capable from a life cut short, a life spent in peace with all living things until it was so cruelly and brutally sundered by something as crass and abominable as an explosive-tipped harpoon, a weapon that mankind in all its iniquitous bloodlust had never once seriously considered using against itself; when it had wasted its resources on technologies that obliterate entire cities, it saw only the noble race of whales as so far beneath itself as to utilize this monstrosity against them.  And so with that hatred they drove the mast into Reno Blight’s body, its crudely shattered head crushing its way through his ribcage more than piercing, thicker around than Reno Blight’s head as it was, it was a miracle that he did not die instantly as most of his center mass was suddenly replaced by wood.  By die he did not, for the hatred of whales is as deep and black as the ocean itself and a thousand times more cold.  He did not die, but instead felt the horrible thrusting pain of the mast until it passed right through, and then the end of it struck the ground behind him with enough force that it exploded.  Splinters the size of daggers tore through his body all over and ripped off his limbs.  Two enormous stakes pierced his skull, punching right through Reno Blight’s eyeballs.  And still he did not die, for the hatred of space whales burns like the sun and is denser than a neutron star.  “Kill me!” he roared, maintaining his sentience somehow despite the agony, and the blood loss, and the fact that his extremities could now fit in a matchbox.  His left arm was still attached by several tendons, so he angled it towards his pocket and drew the one-shot derringer, shooting himself in the face.  The bullet tore through one cheek, smashing out his teeth, ripping his tongue from his skull and through his other cheek, but he missed every vital organ and lived, now blind, dumb, and crippled.  And still he did not die.  Moaning pitifully, the whales at last offered him a single mercy before descending to Whale Hell, for revenge is an ugly thing even against a monster such as Reno Blight, boys and girls.  A single harpoon they’d held high up in the sky, blown free from the ship’s hold in the explosion.  They plunged it down through Blight’s mouth, pinning him to the ground by it.  At long last, Reno Blight was dead.  The ghostly whales sang a whalish song in triumph, a sound which, if it could be translated into English, would mean something like “Player wins.  Mate.”  Because baccarat.


                Seigneur Français roared in displeasure, slamming his mighty Cherubic fist onto the ground, cracking the golden tiles of Prospit.  Now Blight couldn’t eventually become Français, as he was obviously meant to from the beginning, obviously.  “Savez-vous combien de paradoxes de temps je vais devoir trier!?!” he screeched, globs and flecks of alien spittle spewing forth from his gaping befanged maw.

                Caius Ballad cleared his throat, hair and bullshit feathers flapping in the breeze.  “Sir,” he said, “The heroes are getting back up.  We have to leave.  We’ve failed.”

                Francais ate Ballad’s head in a single bite, spraying a fountain of red against the golden floor.  “I will kill you all!!!!!!!!111!!!1one!!!” he shouted.  Everyone stared.  He realized that he’d forgotten to say it in French.  A bright blue flush spread across his cheeks.  “Pardon,” he said.  It’s spelled exactly the same way in English as in French but I promise you he did the nasally thing in the second syllable so you know it’s French.  He angrily turned his back before stepping into a portal ripped from the cloth of pure terror, the color of obscenity and damnation forged from the swirling souls of the meta-damned, and flipped them all the bird embarrassedly as he did so.


By Edrobot

Derse began to eclipse Skaia as Signur Frances ritual came to a conclusion.




“Yes.” said the Evil Father from Dead Poets Society. “And once we are finally cool, we can begin phase one of our plan to destroy all imagination and whimsy in the universe.”


Singer and Evil Father then began to laugh like a pair of cackling loons

Meanwhile, at town square, all the good guys were making plans about what to do next. They included Maxwell Smart, Ghost Alex Alexson, Axel Roderick, Urashima Keitaro, Trudy’s Father, Travis Trudy, Vmsdfx Rewoi, Master Chief, Chole Phelps, Booker DeWit, John Marston, Blasto, Andrew Hussie, Lillith Armageddon, Troll Bruce Campbell and Jack Noir, but not Trudy Travis because she was dead and not Sam and Max because they were going to show up later as kind of a plot twist.

“Okay, moment of truth, guys.” said Alex Alexson. “Here's the plan. Travis, you, Axel and Blasto are going to lead the main assult and Signor Frances's compound.”

“Got it.” said Alex, loading his chainsaw-shotgun with depleted unobtanium rounds.

“While Alex's team takes on the vanguard, Jack Noir, Master Chief, Cole Phelps will circle around and prepare to attack from the rear.”

“Fine by me.” said master chief.

“Then, when Troll Bruce Cambell gives the signal, everyone else is going to attack Signur Frances all at once, so that I can finish him off with my Ghost Powers.”

A single, limpid, teardrop-shaped tear fell from Lillith Armagedon's perfectly rounded eyes as she thought back to Trudy Travis' brutal murder at the hands of The Evil Father from Dead Poets Society. “Okay...” she said. “I might not have been beautiful like Trudy was... BUT IN THE NAME OF SATAN AND DARKNESS I WILL AVENGER HER.”

“Right.” Alex pulled out an ornate brass timepiece. “Synchroze your watches, eveyone. The plan begins in 0100 hour-”


“Okay new plan.” said Alex. “Everyone just do something, I guess.”

And so the big battle at the end of the story happened.

Blasto, Axel and Travis were backed up against a wall shooting their own explode rays at Signur Fraces' army of parademons that had just killed Cole Phelps, when suddenly Vmsdfx Rewoi zoomed in on his rocket powered hospital bed to rescue them. They they hit a ramp for some unreal air to do some sick flips, and landed on Signur Frances' floating fortress, where Master Cheif, Chole Phelps, Booker DeWitt, and John Marston were fighting Evil Father from Dead Poets Society's horde of nazi zombie cyborgs Left 4 Dead style. Suddenly a Nazi Boomer exploded in front of Chole Phelps as he was putting bandages on himself, and Chole was eaten by zombies.

“THE BASTARDS!” said Blasto, as he pulled out a chaingun and started shooting at the zombies.

“Quick, in here! Said Andrew Hussie and Axel and Travis followed after him. “We should be safe inside this room full of high explosives.” Hussie began to light a cigarette only to relize that he didn't smoke so he threw it away behind him.

“It hacked into the computer and it says here that the floating fortress has a secret weakness.” said Rewoi “A vent shaft that, if hit, will cause a chain reaction that will cause the whole thing to blow up.”

“But that shot is impossible!” said Alex. “Who would be crazy enough to try?”


Meanwhile, Troll Bruce Cambell was flying around the Floating Fortress in that ship from Stargate Atlantis, when he suddenly switched off his targeting computer.

“Bruce! You've switched off your targeting computer!” bruces Targeting Computer said.

“Yes I know. I did that because I'm going to use the force to blow it up as a refrence to start wars” said Troll Bruce.

“But bruce! Star wasr is just a movie its not real! The force is just made up bullshit like Unicorns, the Loch Ness Monster, and Tea Party.”

“Well motherfucker.” and he was about to be shot down by a tie fighter when suddenly Sam and Max swooped in and shoot the tie fighters down with the mellenium falcon. (THAT WAS THE PLOT TWIST)

“Boo ya!” said max.

“Great shot, little buddy!” said Sam.

“I now realize the truth.” said Bruce “MERICALES DO HAPPEN!”

Then the lyrics to Dont stop me Now by Queen began playing as Bruce used the force to shoot the bomb into the vent. And they sounded like this:

Don't stop me now I'm having such a good time

I'm having a ball

Don't stop me now

If you wanna have a good time just give me a call

Don't stop me now ('Cause I'm having a good time)

Don't stop me now (Yes I'm havin' a good time)

I don't want to stop at all

And so the Floating Fotress blew up just like the Death Star and everyone died excpt for the good guys like Axel Travis and Hussie because their room full of explosives exploded in the opposite way and also Blasto, Master Chief, Booker and John Marston didnt die because they were pimps who don't commit suicide (but Chole did die and it was very tragic).


“Except we didn't stop the ritual at all.” said Ghost Alex.

“Oh yeah I forgot about that” said Andrew.

With the ritual complete, Singer Frances burst out of the rubble in his TRUE FORM. It had one wing, eight eyes, twelve arms, four legs, skin made out of gold and daimonds, a laser monocle, a mermaid tail, eyes that shined like a raidant diety being born unto a doomed world, and a mostache made out of all your darkest fears and secrets. GAZE UPON YE, MORTALS, AND DISPAIR. He said.

No! Said Alex. “Ill stiop wyou with my GOAST POWERS!” But then alex realized that ghost powers means that he can't touch anything because hes a ghost, so Signer Frances blows off Alex's tail and he runs away screaming.

“Ha ha what a loser” says Axel.

EVIL FATHER aid Signur Frances I COMMADETH YOU TO DESTROY THEM ALL. He then shot out a powerup ray at Evil Father from Dead Powets Soceity and the evil father's suit became gold and he got that cool spiral sword that Gilgamesh from fate stay night has.

“My power is now IN-FINITE” said the evil father. “And now you must DIE!” He then began to shoot mind beams at everyone. Lillith tried to block the attack, but the mind beams were too much for her mind sheld, which was falling apart.

Lillith was about to give up when suddenly the clouds parted, and an angelic chior rang from the heavens. Then, from the sky Jesus came down riding a ruby chariot that was being pulled by a pair of Alicorns, while being followed by at zillion angelic warriors who were loudly proclaiing that the saivor was about to return. Jesus then pulled out one of those fancy russian eggs from his robes, and opened it to reveal Trudy Travis' soul, which was so pure and radiant that it's mere presence made Conroy Deux a good guy again. The soul began to glow brighter and brighter, until nobody could see everything. And then Jesus and the Angels vanished, leaving only Trudy Tavis, now fully revived and with a pair of angel wings.

“Noooooooooo.” trudy cried. “Icannot be killed and I am REAAALY sad about that. And my new heavenly powers are really freaky too.”

Meanwhile, Blasto came up with a plan. “This one has a clever plan.” he said “We must combine our attacks with the entire world to form the ULTIMATE COMBO.”

“But wouldnt that cost us our lives?” said Chole Phelps.

“Yes. But it is for the good of the free world. And also the parts of the world that are not yet free.” he clapped his tentacles togeather. “Say it with this one. 'This one belives in faries'.”

“I believe in faeries!” said Master Chief

“I belive in faeries!” said John Marston.

“I belive in fairys!” said Chole Phelps

“Lillith,” said Blasto “send a signal to the entire world. Tell them to belive in faries!”

“Okay, I'll try....” she held her breath and thought “People of earth the fate of reality rests in your hands. Right now, more than ever, we need you to believe in faeries!”


In scottland, Grant Morrison looked up from his desk. “I believe in faeries!” he said.


In america, President Baraock Obana looked up from his comptuer. “I believe in faeries!” he said.


Also in america, human bruce campbell got up from his bed “I believe in faeries!” he said.


In Gotham, Batman looked up from the thug he was beating. “I belive in faeries!” he said.

“I also belive in faeries!” said the thug.

“Quiet you!” said Batman who punched the thug in the face.


In Hell, the Doomguy looked up from the demon he was killing and said “I belive in faeries!”


In Hawii, Edrobot looked up from his large piles of cash and said “I belive in faeries!”


In japan, BlackholePA looked up from the giant robot suit control and said “I belive in faeries!”


Somewhere else in Japan, Olopi took a step back from the space samurai he was fighting and said “I believe in faeries!”


In England, Vyro P. Dragon III looked up from whatever awesome thing he was doing and said “I believe in faeries!”


In a convetion center, Heroguy, OrangeAipom, King of Clubs, Trish, Chizita,

ASBusinessMagnet, mitspeiler, linkzeldi, dragongirl253, Lieutenant Fish, Maltor Drey, moonyLunacy, Tigrita, Dreamscythes231, Ashpokeball, kiapet, RibbitRob, kiapet, MisterTulip, and everyone else who wrote in this story said in unison “I BELIVE IN FAERIES!”


All around the world, people proclaimed their belivf in Faeries. Booker, Marton, Blasto and Phelps felt the power flowing through them, power enough to summon OBERON, KING OF TEH FAERIES.

if thouh wish for the ultimate combo, though must pay the price in blood” said Oberon.

So the four heroes slit their writs to offer their life force, both literally and figuratively, to Oberon, and

they all turned to dust except blasto, who survives because he's a pimp who doesn't comitt suicide.

and so the price is paid.” said Oberon. “and now, behold, the ultimate combo!

And so Oberon began punching the Evil Father from Dead Poets Society until his super meter was filled. The he tagged in Iron Man and Akuma to air juggle the evil father for a bit, beore they switched back to Oberon and he spent all of his super meter to use the ULTIMATE SUPER MOVE, which was that thing that Akuma does that makes the screen go all white for a bit except you actually got to see what was happenenig.

But despite taking on the ULTIMATE COMBO, evil Father just lauighed it off and got right back up. “Fool! You expected to fight a madman, but now a GOD stands before you!” and he killed Oberon with one hit.

“No!” Lillith cried. “All is lost!” Then she remembered how Hansome Brigadeer died in just the same way, and her sad bonus created magical tears that brought Oberon back to life, and made him strong enough to snap the Evil Father's neck.

Then Oberon began a speech:

If we shadows have offended,

Think but this, and all is mended,

That you have but slumber'd here

While these visions did appear.

And this weak and idle theme,

No more yielding, but a dream,

Gentles, do not reprehend;

If you pardon, we will mend.

And, as I am an honest Puck,

If we have unearned luck,

Now to 'scape the serpent's tongue,

We will make amends ere long:

Else the Puck a liar call.

So good night unto you all.

Give me your hands, if we be friends,

And Robin shall restore amends.

And then he vanished back into the ether.

“So now evil father is dead.” said Axel. “But now it is too late to stop him from unleashing the FRANCE WAVE.”

CORRECT said Segignur Francis who unleashed the FRANCE WAVE.

The world began to bend and shake as reality was rewritten around them. The clouds coalessed into a golden eiffel tower that began to fall from the sky. Suddenly the them from Skyfall began to play.

Everyone tried to run but it was to late. Or at least it would have been if Blasto hadn't started shooting the falling tower with his ray beem. “It is a far, far better thing to do than this one has ever done.” said Blasto. “It is a far, far better place to go to, than this one has ever gone.” And then once everyone left, the tower fell on Blasto. And then Blasto died.


“No... it wasn't pointless.” Travis said. “He wasn't the chosen one, I was, and I've been lying to everyone this entire time.” Travis threw off his cape. “Well no more! With blasto's death on my hands, it's time I stop running away from my destiny and become just like Discworld!” He then closed his eyes and began to chant.

 “I am the bone of my scone

Ankh-Morpork is my body and magic is my blood

I have created over a thousand gods

Unknown to Death, Nor known to The Lady

Have withstood pain to create many animes

Yet, those hands will never hold anything


Suddenly, the world changed, and everyone found themselves in space, standing on a 1:100 scale model of Discworld, complete with four elephants standing on the back of an enormous space turtle. Also, the model of the Unseen Universeity had turned into a giant robot that Travis was driving because it was awesome.

Travis then put on a pair of Twoflower's sunglasses and shouted. “WHO THE HELL DO YOU THINK I AM!?!?”

Signur Frances tried to say something but he couldn't because he had the power to think at the speed of light but light was slower on the Discworld so he thought slower too.

So everyone decided to attack at once. Travis punched Frances with the giant robot, Axel used a tommy gun, Lillith used her newly empowered Super Mind Beams, Conroy used Evil Father's Explode Ray, Urashima Keitaro just stabbed him over and over while screaming Naru's name in sorrow, and Vmsdfx had turned his hospital bed into a giant robot that was almost as cool as travis' and took turns with travis punching Francis in the face. The only people who weren't attacking were Jack Noir (who thought this was stupid), Andrew Hussie (who was just kind of bored) and Trudy Travis, who was preparing the most awesome attack of all.

Finally, Trudy spread her wings wide, revealing that dying and coming back had somehow made her even more attractive, than she already was, and held her arms in front of her. Her snow-white hair and nearly-porcelin colored albino skin began to glow as Gods Ultimate Weapon began to form in front of her: a 5th dimentional laser rifle made of pure holy awesomeness. She then used the laser rifle to carve a pentagram in Signur Frances' face, which caused a portal to hell to open up in front of him. Then trudy summoned several hundred mithril chains to bind Singur Frances up, so that he would be held right in front of the portal. From the portal emerged Demon Lord Eridan, the King of Hell, who reached into Signur France's chest and pulled out his heart and soul.


END... WE MUST END AT THE BEGINNING!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!” and the demon laughed as he dragged Signur France's madly screaming soul to the 11th circle of hell, where he would be tortured for all eternity by laser imps.

Tears of joy began to stream from Trudy's eyes. “At long last... my powers have finally been put to good use... though I wish it could have been more cool.”

And so everyone celebrated their victory over Signur Francie by having a party back on Prospit or something.

Meanwhile, at the ruins of the Eiffel Tower, CAIUS BALLAD came out of hiding.

“Ha. The fools.” CAIUS BALLAD said. “While those idiots have been fighting that cheese-eating surrender monkey, I've finally managed to locate the Iblis Trigger...” he pulled out a box with all kinds of arcane rules on it. “And to think it never was Trudy at all. Instead, was inside Pandoras Box, which was my secret weapon the entire time...”

CAIUS BALLAD then began to open the box, whereupon it flung itself open and Blasto popped out holding a Spartan Laser.

“What?” CAIUS BALLAD gasped, “You're the Iblis Trigger? This cannot be! I saw you die right before my very eyes!”

“This one thought this one had told you already.” Blasto held up his Laser, and it began to maker a WHOOOOP sound as it charged up. “This one is a pimp... and pimps do not commit suicide.” And then Blasto shot Caius Ballad until he was dead.

1 | CYOE Page

Epilogue 2 - Choose Your Own Epilogue

By Vyro P. Dragon III

-Choose Your Own Epilogue-

Heh. What’s up chumps? Been a while, I know. Wait. You don’t remember who I am?

I was in Chapter 11. You know, the bad guy working for Signeur Francais? The C.E.O. of Viritech Incorportated? I can warp the very book itself? Jesus, just because I was only in the story for all of 20 lines doesn’t mean you can just forget about me.

Anyway, since the boss is defeated and all, that leaves me as the sole canon-warping villain, which is really a shame, as it was always a neat concept. Now, now, I’m not about to pull a Twilight Princess Ganondorf and steal the spotlight here. I’ll give you your happy ending, in a sense. After all this idiocy, a normal, run of the mill epilogue would be so perfectly LAME.

So here’s the deal, losers. I’ll do something this book has never done before, and try to restore your lost IQ points through a brain-teasing CHOOSE YOUR OWN EPILOGUE! If you can find your way to the end of this epilogue using the conveniently placed “CYOA PAGE COUNTER” at the top without dying a horrible unpredictably random death, well congrats. You don’t suck nearly as much dicks as I thought.

But really, what are the chances of that?

If you fail of course, you get to start right over from the epilogue’s start! Or just do what everyone does and go back to your last choice.

You know what? Fuck you I don’t care. Enjoy THIS, morons!

But before I go, remember. If there’s no option given, go to the next page.

2 | CYOE Page

You are the ghost of Alex Alexson. You don’t remember why exactly you died, as this story makes no fucking sense anyway. The sun has finally come up on Prospit, which is a good thing you guess. Apparently it means the villain was defeated, which you deem to be sufficiently positive. Anyway, being a ghost is starting to get real old, so you decide to look around at your surrounding area. You see a lot of your friends over to the left, which is pretty cool. Then again, you kind of have to piss, and the bathroom is just over to the right.  You think your choices over. You could go see your friends, and potentially end up ghost-pissing yourself, or you could go to the bathroom and potentially piss first, then spend more time with your living friends without the impending embarrassment.

Decisions, decisions.  

If you see your FRIENDS, go to PAGE 4

If you use the BATHROOM, go to PAGE 6

3 | CYOE Page

You decide to ask Jack for help stopping Vmsdfx. You reveal yourself to him, and surprisingly, he gives zero fucks. You explain your situation, and he just kind of nods.

This kid’s got a strong argument. Jack Noir decided. He was sick and tired of all this bullshit that dare call itself a story. Why he was even involved in this? He wondered. He shrugged off that thought. If things were gonna be this stupid, let them be stupid. And by stupid, he meant dead. He leapt forward, knocking over the table. He barreled towards Vmsdfx and plunged his knife into the soft flesh covering his general stomach region. With a blood-muffled gurgle, Vmsdfx sank to the floor, dying just as he was about to revive the rest of the cast.

Alex stared wide-eyed. This was not at all what he meant by “Stop Vmsdfx”.

Jack spat on the corpse. “Graveyard stuffers.” He muttered, before he walked away into the sunrise, never to be seen again.


Personally I think this ending is the best but whatever. Who asked me, right? I’m the washed-up story-warping villain, not like my opinion matters.

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You decide to go and see your friends. You don’t ACTUALLY have to piss that badly, you decided. Besides, you’re kinda interested in what’s going on. You decide to listen in before you reveal yourself, as the general opinion is that ghosts are spooky, and you really don’t want to cause a massive fuss.

“And it was because of OUR true love that the villain was weakened enough to be defeated!” Conroy Deuce exclaimed. He put his arm around David DeLarge.

David added, “Yeah! We helped save th-“

“Shut up DeLarge, did I say you could talk?” Deuce asked him

“No boss…”

So that’s what happened, you note. The two mafia guys fell in love and it helped kill Francais. Huh. Interesting plot twist.

“And now that that’s over, I can revive all our dead friends with my time powers to make it so their deaths never happened at all!” Vmsdfx proclaimed

“Can you really do that?” Travis asked, “Because I think I’d like to see all of our dead friends again.”

5 | CYOE Page

“Of course, I AM the Lord of Time.” Vmsdfx replied.

Wait. You think. You’re Alex goddamn Alexson, time traveller extraordinaire! You know enough about time to know that if he goes through with this, he could destroy the very fabric of time itself.

You have to do something. You could reveal yourself and protest, but you ARE a ghost and that could cause some issues. You look around at your other options and spot a 6-pack of Mountain Dew on one side of the room, and Jack Noir on the other. You could try and hit Vmsdfx with a can, knocking him out and stopping the time-warping process, or you COULD ask Jack for help. He strikes you as a real stand-up guy.

If you throw a soda can, go to page 9

If you ask Jack, go to page 3

If you reveal yourself and protest, go to page 10

6 | CYOE Page

You decide you should use the bathroom before you do anything else. Pissing yourself isn’t fun, even as a ghost. You walk into the bathroom and realize that there is not a single urinal to be found. In fact, there’s only one stall. “Well this sucks.” You mutter to yourself. You walk into the stall and recoil in horror. The toilet seat is down, but that isn’t stopping whatever horrid stench is coming from within.

You harden your resolve. You HAVE to piss. You bend over, lift up the toilet seat, and A SKELETON POPPED OUT!


7 | CYOE Page

Andrew Hussie scowled and trudged back to his pirate ship.

“Come on Troll Bruce Cambell, let’s get out of here.” Hussie said dejectedly.

Troll Bruce Cambell shot the main characters a dirty look as he ran to catch up to Hussie. He was not having a good day, and he could tell that everyone’s favorite webcomic author wasn’t either. They came here to stop a stupid story from becoming a thing, but it was too late. The stupid story became even more of a thing than they ever could have foreseen.

“Goddammit, I wish I never entered this story.” Hussie complained. “All we did was make it a better fucking story. Honestly, if we stayed out of this, it might have never even finished to begin with.

He looked at Troll Bruce Cambell.

“Are you even listening?” He asked. “Who am I kidding, of course you’re not.”

Hussie and Troll Bruce Cambell boarded the pirate ship, and launched off to the Furthest Ring, scowling all the way. As they drove silently along, Hussie formulated more plans to take over other stories, but most of all, he thought about how he would get revenge on the story he knew as Prospit Nights. Suddenly, he knew what he would do. He would bide his time, he would wait. He would wait until the canon was at its weakest, then he would strike again, this time even stronger, with more allies, with more power.

Prospit Nights wouldn’t stand a chance. He let out an evil laugh.

8 | CYOE Page

Hearing this, Troll Bruce Cambell shouted in agreement


Suddenly, Hussie felt something chewing his hair. He looked behind him, and saw only Troll Bruce Cambell, polishing his boomstick. Hussie let out a sigh and shook his head

“God dammit Grant Morrison.”


9 | CYOE Page

You walk over to the cans of Mountain Dew. You note that they are indeed of the Code Red variety. Cool. You pick one up, feeling its weight, then you throw it right at the head of Vmsdfx. He kind of just stands there for a moment, then he keels over, blood gushing from every orifice in his body

Travis Trudy kneels down and curses the heavens. “YOU BASTARD. DIDN’T YOU KNOW HE WAS DEATHLY ALLERGIC TO SHITTY BEVERAGES!?!?” he screams in rage at the mysterious unseen culprit.



Wow you insensitive prick, how could you do something like that to him? What? His “allergy” was never mentioned in the story?

Exactly! Ahaahahahahaha!

10 | CYOE Page

You decide that it’s time to reveal yourself. You become visible.

Oddly, besides a few muffled  murmers of “Hey Alex”, no one seems to give a shit. You turn to Vmsdfx. “I cannot allow you to do something like this, it would tear apart time itself with the massive amount of paradoxes that would cause!”

Vmsdfx sighed. “Dude.” He said. “Gonna be real honest with you here, and when I say that, you know sure as hell that I’m gonna be as honest as possible. I don’t care what you say.”

“What?” You reply

“These are my friends, and I’m reviving them, fuck you ghost Alex.”

Having completely ignored your protest, he begins reviving the dead, one by one. The Handsome Brigadeer, Blasto, Chole Phelps, Master Chief and Booker DeWit are all brought back to life.

“Hey, what about me?” You ask. “If you’re gonna fuck up time, at least help me out too.”

“Oh yeah sorry.”  Vmsdfx says. He revives you too.

11 | CYOE Page

You are Alex Alexson, no longer a ghost. Sadly, this has brought back your memory, and you’re feeling pretty down. You look around and see the newly-revived Blasto looking pretty bummed out too. The two of you have a good reason though. You were supposed to single-handedly save the future, as was he, but instead, you both just died like pansies.

You look at him, and he looks back, giving a sad nod of acknowledgement. Man, this is really depressing. You go over and stand with him, not speaking, but understanding each other’s pain. The pain of not being the one to save the future.

You sit and quietly contemplate for a second. Now that you’re not a ghost, no one seems to really care. Besides Blasto. At least you have him. You ask him what you should do now. He says there’s only really two options. You could raise a stink about how you feel useless, or you could go in guns blazing and mess these ungrateful so-called friends right up.

If you complain about feeling useless, go to Page 13

If you shoot them all, go to Page 15

12 | CYOE Page

You step into the TARDIS with Blasto. It’s been quite a ride, you have to say. You helped beat an evil demon who can’t decide what language his name should be in, you died, you came back to life, you made Travis fight some imps, and you looked good doing it.

You are Alex Alexson, Steampunk Time Traveller, and now that you look back, you’re actually pretty awesome. You fought damn hard to help save the future, and even though you didn’t do it alone, you realize it doesn’t matter.

You look at Blasto. He probably wants to hurry up and get out of here. Honestly you agree. This party’s kind of a bummer. They invited Andrew Ryan, and while he MAY be the King of Rapture, he’s a real dick when he drinks.

You hit the button to close the TARDIS doors, and with them, closes a chapter of your life that you’ll never forget. Sure, it was stupid as hell, but you got to meet new friends, explore amazing worlds, and sometimes completely defy the laws of everything ever.

You regret nothing.

Go to page 7

13 | CYOE Page

You decide to voice your concern about feeling useless.

“Look.” You say. “I know you’re all happy about having defeated Francais, but it was MY destiny to save the future. Well, it was Blasto’s too, but I’m the one saying this right now. I was supposed to single-handedly save the future, and yet all I did was die, while you guys did all the work! I guess what I’m trying to say is… I feel useless and forgotten…”

Travis Trudy walks up to you and puts his hand on your shoulder.

“Don’t worry Alex.” He said. “You were the number one help.”

“What about me?” Blasto asked

“You were also the number one help.”


“Thanks Travis.”  You say, finally realizing that you weren’t so useless after all. “Sorry for using my HIPNOTISM on you guys by the way”

“It’s cool dude.” Travis said. “NOW LET’S GET THIS PARTY STARTED!”

Suddenly the room erupts in cheer. The party HAS been started.

14 | CYOE Page

In the door walks Gabe Johnson, Merlin, Optimus Prime, Death, and Andrew Ryan, all dressed for a wild party.  Death steps up on the stage, and the room goes silent.

 “Hey guys.” Death said. “I have an announcement to make. I’ve rebuilt Hell, and now it’s NICE HELL! It’s even better than heaven!”

“But we’re all alive now. That doesn’t affect us.” Blasto pipes up

“Son of a BITCH.” Death replied.

Then Trudy walked in. Her dress was blue with sequins laid all across it in every direction except south because south is lame. The light reflected off of it in a beautiful manner. Everyone loved it.

You look around at the ongoings at the party. Trudy is looking hella nice, you could go ask her for a dance. There is also a bunch of beer over by Jack Noir that looks appealing. Then again, you really SHOULD get going back to the future with Blasto…

If you ask for a dance, go to page 16

If you decide to go to the future, go to page 17

If you get piss drunk, go to Page 18

15 | CYOE Page

once there was a very angry alex. he was mad because everyone forgot about his contributions and he felt useless along with his buddy blasto, who was a loose-cannon who didn’t play by the rules

they shot everyone to death the end.

and no one lived happily ever after


Now that’s how to end a game. Talk about a satisfying ending, right?

Wrong fuck you suck my dick.

16 | CYOE Page

You decide to ask the lovely Trudy Travis for a dance. Her dress looks fantastic, and she looks to be alone. You walk over to her.

“Trudy, may I have this dance?”

“Of course, Alex!” She replies.

You begin your dance with the waltz, a truly wonderful and classy dance. Your movements mirror each other’s perfectly, each step complimenting the other’s. It is truly a joy to be a part of; as such a flawless dance has never been perfor- Wait a second. You forgot. You had to piss like an hour ago, and that sensation has only gotten stronger. Despite your best efforts to hold it in, in the middle of the dance, you blow it.

You piss yourself.

“AUUUUUGH” Trudy screams as she runs away.

You try to recover the situation, but all that comes out of your mouth is

“B-BACK THAT ASS UP!”Everyone gets mad and they throw you out of the party.


17 | CYOE Page

You decide that it’s about time you went back to the future. Sure, it’s been fun here, but you kind of miss your own time. Plus, if you stay any longer, you might ruin the timestream even more than you already have.

You look at Blasto. He nods back. That’s Blasto for you, always understanding. God you love that guy, he’s so cool.

You go over to Vmsdfx. “Where’s the TARDIS? I think it’s time Blasto and I returned to the future.”

“Uh… There’s a problem.” Vmsdfx said. “Here, I’ll show you.”

He takes you to a corner of the room, and shows you a mangled heap of metal. “Yeah… The TARDIS got kind of fucked up.” He tells you

“No problem.” You say. You pull out your STEAMPUNK TECHNOLOGY and quickly repair it. “Done. It’s ready.”

“…We’ll miss you guys.” Vmsdfx says. The crowd of partygoers claps and hollers in agreement. Jack Noir just sighs. “We’ll miss you guys too.” You say. Blasto nods in agreement. Man he’s cool. While your friends applaud in the background, you give them one last glance, then you turn towards the TARDIS and go to Page 12

18 | CYOE Page

You walk over to Jack Noir and his stockpile of beer.

“Yo Jack, my man. Pass me some of that booze!” You say, trying to sound cool and not at all awkward.

You utterly fail at it. Jack sighs and tosses you a can anyway. You drink it.

This goes on and on for a while, more cans are tossed, and more cans are emptied. By the end of the party, you are completely blasted.

“Y-yo JACK.” You say “Can you pass me anotherrrr can of that BEER?”

You are not talking to Jack, Jack left three hours ago. Everyone left already. You’re alone, drunk as shit.

“Guuuuys?” You yell, but no one responds. You throw up on the ground and fall over.

Shit you’re drunk.

You also have to piss so badly you don’t even know, hell, you had to piss before, now your bladder is DYING, so you drunkenly stagger to the bathroom to relieve yourself

Go to Page 6