The Last True Evil and Cool Matty pull Pingu off to one side, as Krig looks on hungrily. In the background, Enchilada Man and Miss Fire tie up Midvok and Samus Aran with really tough rope.

Pingu: Ahem, yes, well, as I was about to say...

CM: What do you know about where we're supposed to go?

Pingu: Eh... as I was about to...

CM: Don't hold out on us, you hear me? We can be very... persuasive.

TLTE: Erm, Matty, may I talk to you for a moment?

CM: Huh? Sure. Don't go anywhere, penguin!

TLTE and Cool Matty go a few steps away from Pingu, just far enough away to still be clearly audible to everyone in the ship.

TLTE: Comrade, what do you think you're doing?

CM: Interrogating!

TLTE: You call that interrogating?

CM: I'm being the bad cop!

TLTE: Tell me, which one of us is the idealistic young mageling, fresh out of mage school?

CM: Well, I guess that'd be me, but --

TLTE: --and which one of us is the highly experienced Russian spy who interrogates hardened intelligence officers before breakfast without breaking a sweat?

CM: Um...

Krig: Krig still hungry....

Pingu: Hey, guys, the lawn gnome is still looking at me and I'm scared...

CM and TLTE look at Pingu.

CM: Oh, you did not just call him that...

...Two hours later, the Enchilada Man and CM are fixing the broken consoles and suchlike inside Samus Aran's ship, as short-circuiting wires shower sparks all over the place. CM pulls an axe out of the main navigation controls and glances back at Krig, who is sitting in a corner, grumbling to himself and twitching. Miss Fire talks to him sternly.

Miss Fire: Now, uh, Craig?

Krig: Krig.

Miss Fire: Right, Krig. Now why don't you apologise to the nice penguin?

Krig: Krig not apologise to nasty food.

Meanwhile, TLTE talks to Pingu.

TLTE: ...and so that is the history of the NeS up until now.

Pingu: That was... long.

TLTE: Yes, comrade. Yes it was. So, you were saying?

Pingu: Ah, yes. I am a Deus ex Machina!

TLTE: No, no, after that.

Pingu: Oh. I know where you're supposed to go next!

TLTE: And that is...

Pingu: Jupiter!

TLTE stares at Pingu for a moment, expressionless.

TLTE: Jupiter.

Pingu: Jupiter!

TLTE: The place where the beautiful Losien is being held captive.

Pingu: Yes!

TLTE: The place where the enemy that has tried to kill us on several occasions almost certainly lies in wait.

Pingu: Yes!

TLTE: The place we were already going before you showed up and delayed us for two hours!

Pingu: Y--uh. Yes.

Krig: Lunchtime!

As pandemonium breaks out once more within the cramped confines of Samus Aran's starship, there is only one question on the minds of all who behold this spectacle: "What did I do with those rainbow-coloured socks with the toes in them? I know I had them on yesterday, surely they should around here somewhere!" Tune in again soon for more hopefully zany action here on the Never-ending Stoooryyyy! Woohoo!

So, Ford ish pretty pished right now. Matter of fact sho am I. This
shcotch I found in the shideboard over here is just...roight. 'e
jusht found out that he'sh not actually relateded to the Ford
famimily, information pashed on to him from hish grreet-grandfadder
Moostang Ford. But enough from me, lets have a peek shall we?

Ford: WHY DINDNT ANYONE TELL ME!?

Mustang: Are you going to let me talk, or are you going to repeat
yourself? I will not put up with someone who asks the same question
repeatedly. Unlike most of this bloody country. but don't get me
started on National Politics. So do you want me to tell the story or
not.

Ford makesh a vishable attempt to calm down. Roll shave vs.
DeeSchee 20.. Sushesh! Ford calmsh down enough to let his patriarch
shpeak. Ooou! Brandy! Anyone up for shots?

Ford: Shpeak...I mean "Speak" damn drunken narrator.

Hey I desherv a drink every now and then! You haven't sheen what
I've sheen! I know how all thish ends!

Ford: *annoyed* Fine whatever. Let the man speak.

Mustang: What I'm about to tell you you arent going to like. Truth is I dont like this either. I didnt like it when Erro told me 120 years ago, and I dont like it now. You see the events of 1888, your birth, and the state of NeS as it is today all tie in together to reach an apex in the relative near future.

Ford: Stop stalling and get on with it. So now I know that either I'm adopted or my mother was a whore. Either way I'm a *******. So spill it. I'm getting tired of lengthy enigmatic expositions.

Mustang: Your mother was an angel. I'll agree that there is nothign legitimate about your conception, but its no fault of your mothers. I've cursed the ******* who did this to her for 120 years. I apologize for giving you another lengthy exposition, but this one i hope will be much less enigmatic...

Holy Foreshdowing, Batman! I mean faithful readersh. or shomething. shoundsh like we're finally going to find out what happened way back when. I hope sho, cause man, I'm really shick of ashking queshtionsh about it. shpeaking of, Will Mushtang really reveal all? How will Ford react to thish information? Can i finish this bottle of tequila in lessh than 20 minutesh? Find out next time, on The whatever the fudge this story is called!

Mustang: would you mind sharing? we're both gonna need it.

Meanwhile, in London's underground...

Subway train: vvrrrRROOOOOOOOOOOOoooom....

Elsewhere, below the London city...

Young: Might I ask why we've been idling in this particular area of the London sewer system that doesn't quite resemble a sewer system as much as I'm led to believe?

Ante: Well, I thought one of us would find something useful in this technological wonderland, like a secret document on a computer file or something, but I'm becoming less sure by every post that doesn't involve us.

Qhobeg: Oh, I thought we were suppose to look for where the presents and cake were hiding.

Ante: Wait, I think I found somet--

Just then, Ahnuld and Thrawn42689 rush into the room, followed by a swarm of flying, buzzsaw-hacking robots, one of them slicing the technological plot device into pieces!

Ante: Nevermind.

Ahnuld: Too many!

What will happen to our conviniently-grouped characters? Will they conviniently meet up with more characters? Will Phil drop in again? Will they solve the riddles left by the mysteriously-absent creatures that are in no way similar to Vortigaunts? Will all this violence be a bad influence on Young? It's a good thing I don't have to answer any of these questions!

Samus Aran's spaceship descends onto the surface of Mars with the grace of a falling feather, the thrusters shooting off when appropriate. About 5-10 miles away is a small settlement under the shadow of a much larger powerplant and spaceshipping center, busy with traffic. The entrance shaft on top of Aran's spaceship open, and out pours a fantic penguin with a familiar viking on his toes.

Pingu: Help!

The Last True Evil exits the ship, followed by CoolMatty, Wai, Miss Fire and Enchilada Man.

TLTE: Krig!

Krig: *turning his head as he holds Pingu*

TLTE: I have something for you...

The Last True Evil holds out some leftover steak wrapped in aluminium foil. Krig the Viking immediately drops the penguin and snatches the food-in-foil.

TLTE: We need to make our way over there *points towards the settlement*. Wai, see if you can get a hold of Antestarr.

Wai: OK. *tries* Nothing so far...

...

About an hour later, as the heroes arrive in the settlement...

Pingu: So... Last True Evil, is it?

TLTE: Hmm?

Pingu: You have a copy of the NeS script on you?

Krig: We follow script?

TLTE: We don't bother to look at our lines, Pingu. It's not the NeS way.

Pingu: Well fuq. What am I suppose to do now? *whips out a script on him* It says here I, the Deus Ex Machina, am suppose to have revealed to you the wereabouts of this Losien person, then cue Benny Hill scene with the Viking, then battle space pirates in the Astroid Belt...

TLTE: There may be some purpose to your presence here yet. Another, Highemperor, the one who told me where Losien is, was also suppose to accompany us, and yet he's not here. Perhaps you are to fill in for his place. ...then again, maybe you're a one-scene wonder, to fade out with so many disinterested characters.

Pingu: I feel the love...

CM: Hey look! A supply shop! We should stop in, see what staff models they have in, maybe get Krig a new helmet.

Krig: No want new helmet. Krig like his helmet.

Meanwhile, a shipment of Cinnabuns is being detained for its departure to Earth...

(NSP: Yeah, I know, another mostly-utilitarian post on my behalf. Forgive me.)

Joe: Hello folks, what can I do ya for?

TLTE: Well, we were looking for some good equipment. We've got a good long battle in front of us, and we really need to prepare.

Joe: Oh, of course! Well, as you can see... our sword and shield collection is quite extensive...

They look around for a while, but TLTE seems a little disappointed

TLTE: Hmm... do you happen to have anything, well, better?

Joe: Hmm?

TLTE: I'm looking for something... special. You know, high quality.

Joe: Oh, of course! Let me take you to the back of the shop.

TLTE and Joe walk to the back of Joe's shop, in a storage room, dimly lit.

Joe: So you seek information?

TLTE: Huh? No, why do you think that?

Joe: ... You said the password... how did you know the password?

TLTE: What password?

Joe: Look, I run an information service. I'm trying to keep things quiet, you know, so the badges don't find out.

TLTE: What was the password?

Joe: "I'm looking for something special." You must be a well traveled person to have just guessed that password.

TLTE: Well I did spend the better part of my life in the KGB...

Joe: KGB?! Well I'll be... never met one of you folk before! I hear you guys are tough as nails!

TLTE: Well, yes, I guess we are.

Suddenly, Wai pops his head in.

Wai: You gonna sit there and collect ego, or are you gonna help us get a helmet that Krig likes?

TLTE: Oh, sorry. I'll be right there.

Joe: Well, now that we're back here, anything I can help you with?

TLTE: Yes, actually. Know anything about a kidnapping of a woman, and taken to Jupiter?

Joe: Actually, no. But you wish to go to Jupiter then, since you are asking?

TLTE: Yes, we're off to rescue the girl.

Joe: Ah, I see. A girlfriend of yours?

TLTE: I don't see where this pretains to the question at...

Joe: Sorry, just collecting information. It's my job, you know!

Joe: Besides that, if you wish to go to Jupiter, you need a flight plan. Jupiter isn't exactly a well traveled place, you know.

TLTE: You can't just fly in?

Joe: Hell no! Are you mad? It's a planet in a constant state of horrible weather! To enter without the proper flight plan would leave you all dead!

TLTE: Okay, so where might I obtain this flight plan?

Joe: Not so fast. I'm here for money. Cough up some, then you'll learn.

TLTE: And how can I trust you to tell me?

Joe: Because I know that you'll that that Smith and Wesson you've been feeling in your coat this entire time, and knowing that fact, I can assume you're willing to use it.

TLTE: A nice observation. Okay, so we have a deal.

TLTE hands Joe a good sum of money

Joe: Now, the flight plans. They can only be found on what is called the Demonrock. It's the largest asteroid in the belt.

TLTE: Why Demonrock?

Joe: It's a hive of lowlife scum, but also bounty hunters. Jupiter is a great place to hide, so bounty hunters visit there often. If you want to get a flight plan into Jupiter, you'll need to talk with one of those bounty hunters, and get a flight plan from him.

TLTE: Okay, so how do I do that?

Joe: I'm an information dealer, not an instruction manual. I tell you what you need to do, you figure out how to get it done. Well, it's been nice doing business with you. If you and your friends have anything they'd like to purchase, I'll get that rung up for you.

TLTE and Joe walk back out front, and find that CM and Wai are lugging around a huge bag of items, while Miss Fire walks around throwing random items into said bag.

Miss Fire: Oh, this'll be great for my rifle! This is just great! There is so much fine stuff here!

CM: I don't think we can afford all of ...

Miss Fire: Why of course we can! Isn't that right... brother?

Enchilada Man: Now wait, you think I am going to spend mi pesos on that TRASH?

Miss Fire: If you don't want your secret ingredient told to the world, you will!

E-man: You run a hard bargin...

So the gang finishes their shopping, and as they walk back to the ship, TLTE explains what is in store for the next leg of their journey. Will they make it to Jupiter in time? Can they get the flight plan they need? All this and so much less, next time, on the NEVER-ENDING STORY!

Back in the library of the HHH, Mustang walks over to the sideboard. Me pours himself a drink then turns to Ford.

Mustang: Brandy?

Dont mind if I do!

Mustang: Not you!

Hmmph! Fine. We'll see if you have a reoccuring role in the third installment! I have connections you know.

Mustang: Ha! I've had more and better connections than you since your great-grandad was in diapers! perhaps it is YOU who shall be out of a job...

indistinct grumbling

M: Now, where was I? Ah yes. Would you like some brandy, D...

Ford: NEVER call me that. if you must call me anything call the family name. its what i'm used to. And no. two fingers, single malt scotch, straight up.

M: Fine, fine. There you are. Now...Where to begin...

F: Could you speed it up a bit? I know you said this would be lengthy, but seriously. We've had about n pages of suspense here.

M: Hrmm...I suppose you're right. There has been quite enough mystery surrounding this. It is a shame about that book though. It did have a rather concise description of everything...

F: Just get on with it will you?!

M: Of course. As with all things there must be a beginning....

*This flashback is brought to you by Tiffen(r) makers of the finest Flashback(tm) and Soft Focus Vingetting(tm) filters on the market. See your local Pro Video store for details*

1888. London. The Hall of Heroes. Mustang Ford's magical workshoppe.

BANG!*

Mustang: Blast!

Erro Ohq: *coughing* Thats right. Exactly what it was.

M: *grumbling and waving a hand in front of his face.* Indeed. Erase and correct: Damn! Too much slug zest. Highly volatile you know.

E: No. I didn't. Remind me not to salt my garden this spring. What exactly *is* it you're working on?

M: Hmm? Oh. A new potion. Not sure what it does yet. Sorcery Quarterly wants me to do an article on homemade recipes. This issue's theme is slug zest. Potions were never really my strong suit. I can never find the right grads when i need them.

E: Well, if you had a place to put them, you'd be able to find them.

M: I *do* have a place for them, but a certain dynamic duo keep taking them for use as drink mixers or beer stiens. never put them back in their proper place. i find them and they usually reek of some beverage or another.

E: *blushing, cough* Anywhos, I came in her to talk to you about my son, Asa.

M: Fine boy. How is the lad these days? Havent got to see him much these days. Catherine keeps him under constant watch it seems.

E: Actually, thats what I need to talk to you about. The boy has taken ill recently.

M: Mmm. Too bad. But why dont you talk to Dr. Fleidermouse? He seems the more qualified of us. Degree from Caimdridge you know.

E: You know i dont trust these modern doctors. From what i can see they do more harm than good most of the time. I'd rather had a good reliable magic man at my back any day.

M: well i must say i'm honoured, Erro. But really, whats the problem? You know most of these childhood ailments clear up in a few days.

E: Yes, i know. Its just the usuall complaints. Fever, runny nose, congestion. Catherine wondered if you just had a general cure all draught.

M: Congestion... *thinking* whould have...let me just...

Just then King-Emp burst through the door. He seems rather distraught.

M: You seem rather distraught.

King-Emp: Erro! Its Catherine..

E: What is it?

K-E: I got here as fast as i could. Had to leave Asa with Dr. Fleidermouse. Its been 20 minutes since she disappeared. Well, probably more like 30 now..

E: what do you mean disappeared?

K-E: Asa saw it all. i came when i heard him screaming. he said it was big men in funny black hats.

Erro: Desmond! That fiend!

That Fiend indeed! What will happen next time? Or shouldi say what has happened next time? How exactly do you ask questions about future events in a flashback? Whatever. You'll find out next time a writer picks up this this vein of story.

Mustang: You wont be needing that draught then?

A little way from the heroes, the grey steel hulk of the cruiser thrummed gently. Two comparatively small figures were waving and gesturing with exaggerated motions, a point-counterpoint argument having continued for some time.

Pilot: What do you mean, not cleared for takeoff!?

Operator: I’m on to you. Don’t think you can just up-and-steal these delicious cinnabuns.

Pilot: Wha..? It’s my job to deliver these to the much-cinnabun-deprived locales of Earth!

Operator: Wait, wait… you’re saying that you’re not my personal sanitizer? I mean, I had this HUUUGE ra—

Pilot: Um… yeah. So can I leave now?

Operator: I guess so… lemme just punch in the codes and… what, what was that!?

Pilot: Huh?

The combined squeak and clang of footsteps, muffled by the ships hull, wafted to them, amidst the bustle of the port.

Pilot: Wait… wafted? Sound isn’t a smell, nub.

Quiet, you.

Operator: I’ll radio the guards… I think we’ve got a mime.

-------------------------------------------------------

A little while later (or as long as it took the guards to be roused from the coffee shop, go to the toilet, come out, sit back down, order doughnuts, eat said doughnuts, ad infinitum), the guards stood ready outside of the side door, partially in anticipation to use the new electro-stun batons, and partially in regard to the cinnabun goodness held within.

The first, who had a face to be reckoned with, stepped into the area, gingerly. He beckoned the other two – one who rejoiced with the name “Joe-Bob”, and the other with an O-level in Geography – inside, and the door shuck-shunnged shut appropriately.

Face: The bastards that came through here took out the outer boxes…

Joe-Bob: Carnage. Utter carnage.

Face: Let’s keep moving. That face-painted uncomedian can’t be far from here.

Geog: Wait! What whazzat!?

Face: I don’t know. Stay sharp.

Joe-Bob: But what ab—

He didn’t get to finish the sentence. A shadowy figure leapt from one of the taller piles of cinnabun boxes and knocked Joe-Bob for six with a metallic clang. Well, he would of, had he slightly more dexterity than a dead wombat.

The resulting collision dropped Joe-Bob, while Face and Geog both dived in opposite directions, landing in the cinnabunny goodness that abounded. Happy munching came from Geog’s side.

A few seconds passed, and the figure got up, rubbing his head.

Figure: Who’d have thought a saucepan was actually protective…

Stashing a few dozen cinnabuns in a pair of baggy blue shorts and pilfering the boots off of unconscious Joe-Bob, he headed outside into the bright light of the port.

Operator: Aaaugh! It’s the mime!!

Tony: I’m not a mime.

Operator: Oh. Um…

What is this? Tony’s appeared!? Just what was he doing? Was this a half-arsed post to just reassure the fact that he was alive and kicking? Oh, those poor cinnabuns, won’t someone please think of the cinnabuns!

(NSP: Hopefully I can start a trend for writers to make psuedo-story posts, when they feel they can't just B.U.M.P. it but not up to writing an "actual" story post, using this method, though hopefully they'll be funnier and less-significant than this one...)

Mayaal: LISTEN UP! Lunchbreak ends in ten minutes, and we need to be in our places ready to roll, people! We have work to do still!

Mayaal and Bhac stand around the scene underground London, with Antestarr and the others frozen in time. However, instead of their "formal" attire, used for battling within the NeS and the like, they are in simpler clothes: Bhac in simple black T-shirt and slacks fitting for a technical crewman and Mayaal in a white-collar shirt and khakis. Random stagehands and the like are wandering around, tinkering with the sets.

Bhac: What the -- Johnson!

One of the stagehands runs up to Bhac.

Johnson: Yes sir?

Bhac: Why haven't you fixed that one flying robot?

Johnson: Well, sir, we, uh -- we filed in for a new one, and we're expecting it in tomorrow--

Bhac: I didn't ask you to get a new one, I asked you to fix it. We don't have the budget for new props, Johnson, and we certainly don't have until tomorrow to roll this scene. Do I make myself clear?

Johnson: But we don't know how to--

Bhac: STOP MAKING EXCUSES AND FIX IT!

Johnson: Yessir...

Johnson scurries off. Young's eyes look over with concern. Bhac notices, and flags down Mayaal.

Bhac: Mayaal, we have a problem here.

Mayaal: Yes, I see... Young?

Young: Yes?

Mayaal: Are you aware of what's happening?

Young: I'm not sure. I can't move, and the things around me would seem to strengthen Antestarr's concern about being controlled by others.

Bhac: Why is she conscious? This is not good. This will ruin everything.

Mayaal: Don't be ridiculous. Her creation as a Blank Character must have given her some degree of independance. It's not like the other characters don't know they're part of a big story. We don't always freeze the scene when we work.

Bhac: I know that, but...you're not going to do anything about it?

Mayaal: What can we do about it?

Bhac: Strike her out! Her presence is too much of a risk as is.

Mayaal: Come now, she's just making things interesting.

Bhac: Well fine, but don't complain to me when she goes ruining NeS!

Mayaal: Like such a thing could happen... Young?

Young: Yes?

Mayaal: Try not to worry too much. I'll see what I can do about your state.

Young: OK, Mr...?

Mayaal: My name is Mayaal, his is Bhac. We're the Hands of NeS.

Young: Thanks.

Within the deepest reaches of the still-hidden space station on Jupiter, the warrior known only as the Blackguard marches into his master's inner sanctum. At once, a deep sense of foreboding settles onto him, a sense as sharp and defined as the bitter cold of the room.

Blackguard: Master, I-

Dark Man: Silence.

The Blackguard's mouth snaps shut as he catches sight of the voice's owner, standing at the room's centre. Before him is a massive slab of ice: almost as if a sculptor's work, for at its very centre is the frozen image of a beautiful woman.

Dark Man: Marvellous, isn't it? When I found her at the Arena she was, for all intents and purposes, clinically dead...there was a need for me to preserve her in a state where I could monitor her progress. So I placed her here, inside a frozen block of water vapour from the planet's surface.

Blackguard: I still fail to see how she could be alive in a mass of freezing ice...

Dark Man: I have my ways of maintaining life, servant. Much like you, as a matter of fact. You of all people should know that force of will alone is all that is required to continue breathing.

The Blackguard bristles, but says nothing.

Dark Man: What are you doing here, anyway? Shouldn't you be off polishing your axe or doing something similarly inane?

Blackguard: The targets have taken an unexpected direction. We had assumed that they would simply fly to Jupiter, as befitting a group of their sub-standard intelligence, but they have received a tip-off from an arms dealer...er, "Joe"...and are now flying to the Demonrock for a flight plan.

Dark Man: The Demonrock...

Blackguard: Yes, the-

Suddenly, the Dark Man turns around, an expression of wild frustration on his face.

Dark Man: The Demonrock?! Are you mad? They'll be killed!

Blackguard: Yes, of that I have no doubt.

Dark Man: NO! THEY MUST NOT BE KILLED! HE MUST NOT DIE YET!

There is an awkward silence between the two of them. Then-

Blackguard: Let me leave this accursed place. Let me fix this.

Dark Man: ....fine. Spend some time away from home, but play nice.

He laughs maniacally, then turns and slams his fist against the ice with a howl.

Blackguard: What would you have me do?

Dark Man: Go to the Demonrock now. Kill them all - the smugglers and the heroes, destroy them. Then bring the Russian to me.

Blackguard: Leave the Russian alive?

Dark Man: Bring him to me still breathing! I no longer care for the rest, send them all to Hell...

The Blackguard nods and turns to leave, but his boot hangs in the air uneasily. The room somehow grows colder. With great reluctancce, he turns back to his master, who is now holding a vial of red liquid in his hand.

Dark Man: One last thing, if I may...

Blackguard: No. No, wait-

Dark Man: Do not fail me this time. If you do, quite unlike all of your other worthless failures which I have forgiven, you will face a penalty.

Blackguard: I have served you well! I have brought you an army, as you requested...I have fought and suffered for you every day!

But the Dark Man appears not to hear him, shaking the red vial and smiling.

Dark Man: Blood taken from you on the day you died. Blood that I rekindled, infused with purpose, with life, as I infused you with life. And if you fail me-

He suddenly wraps his hand around the vial, crushing it. The Blackguard reacts immediately, moaning with pain. His leg bends off at an impossible angle: his armour falls off to reveal a chest scorched and horrifically burnt; and a rough line of bullet holes bore their way into his forehead. He falls backwards, lying on the floor, preserved in the agonising final moment of his death.

Dark Man: You made powerful enemies in life, and they destroyed your body. I have saved you - or a semblance of your old self - so that you can aid me.

He walks forward and kneels next to the Blackguard, whose eyes are strained toward the ceiling.

Dark Man: But if you do not aid me...if you fail me again...there will be no reason for me to keep you around. I think I shall just leave you like this.

He looks idly at his hand, which is grimly decorated with blood - both his and the Blackguard's - and the many glass shards of the vial. Slowly, the blood and shards start to float upwards into the air, swirling as they reform perfectly into the undamaged original product. The moment that they do, the Blackguard sits up, coughing and gasping.

Dark Man: Now get out there and show them your anger.

The Dark Man stands menacingly for a moment, and then BLAM! -- star-wipe to Samus Aran's starship careening through space! Mexican salsa music! A short hairy Viking bites a penguin in the flipper! Seven people yelling in the crowded confines of a spaceship designed for one person! An unconcious guy in the corner wakes up!

Midvok: Oy, ow, me head... what's going on here?

TLTE: Krig, stop biting the penguin!

Pingu: OWOWOW!

Krig: NNggggrrrgh!

TLTE: Krig! We need that penguin alive!

Enchilada Man: Shut up everybody! This ship, she is difficult to fly without yelling!

CM: This may be a bad time, but I really have to go to the bathroom...

TLTE: We don't have time to stop, CM!

Miss Fire: Would somebody turn off that stupid salsa music? That's all I hear, every day, day in and day out, is salsa music!

Enchilada Man: Dios! What is wrong with you? Salsa music is the spice of life!

CM: AAAH! Watch out for that asteroid!

Enchilada Man: Carumba!

Pingu: He's still biting me!

TLTE: Krig, let go!

Wai: Would everybody shut up? I'm trying to sleep here!

Miss Fire: Wait, sleep? Aren't you a robot?

Wai: I am an artificial intelligence, thank you...

Enchilada Man: Good news! The Demonrock is in sight!

CM: Oh thank God... I really have to pee!

TLTE pulls Krig off of Pingu. Krig thrashes about violently.

Krig: Graaaaaah!

TLTE: Hold still, viking! We will get you food soon enough!

Krig: Grrr...

The battered starship slowly descends on the outskirts of a cluster of transparent domes clinging to a giant jagged floating piece of black rock. One of the domes opens up, and the starship descends inside. It hovers over the ground for a moment, and then the engines cut out and the ship crashes to the ground. After a few moments, the hatch opens and a head pops out.

CM: Yeah, great landing there, Mr. Enchilada. Couldn't we have used the landing gear, at least a little?

Enchilada Man (from within the ship): It is not my fault that this ship is poorly designed! A six-armed monkey could not operate those controls!

TLTE: Hurry up and get out of the ship, mageling! You're blocking the hatch!

CM: Fine, fine, you russian lummox...

TLTE: What was that?

CM: Nothing, nothing -- say, who are all these people?

TLTE: Well I cannot tell if I cannot see, now can I?

There is some scuffling, and TLTE's head pops up beside CM's.

TLTE: Lenin's Ghost! This may be trouble.

The camera pulls back to reveal a crowd of nasty-looking people pointing nasty-looking weapons at the two heads poking out of the hatch of Samus Aran's starship. One particularly big one, with a scar over one eye and a suit of mechanical armour, steps forward and points a large laser rifle at TLTE's forehead.

TLTE: ...bounty hunters. Of course.

Bounty Hunter With Scar: You there! Who are you and what are you doing in Samus Aran's starship?

Egad! Our unwitting heroes have unwittingly stumbled onto an asteroid filled with Samus Aran's fellow bounty hunters! How will this complicate things? Will it lead to death, disaster, and lots of gunfighting? One can only hope! Stay tuned for details!

TLTE: "You realise, Comrade, this is all your fault."

CoolMatty looked at TLTE from across the cell. He couldn't do much else - his arms and legs were chained to the wall.

CM: "What? Says you, mr high-and-mighty ninja superspy."

CoolMatty took on TLTE's tone of voice.

CM: "Comrade, who was given the secret data? Me. Who talked his way out of decadent Westerner ambush and got them to hand over their guns? Me. So let me do the talking."

TLTE grimaced. Then repsonded.

TLTE: "Yes Comrade Idiot. Didn't I negotiate a settlement?"

CM:" 'You can take the mageling, just spare the rest of us'? "

TLTE: "Well Comrade. your sacrifice would earn the highest honours in Kremlin."

CM: "Fine! Next time I'll pin the medal on your smoking corpse!"

Elsewhere, in another cell

Wai: Whoa. Talk about a tough customer, eh?

Krig: WARRRRRRGGH!

Wai: Don't worry Krig! I'm sure the others are okay!

Krig: AARRRGGGGGGHH!

Wai looked at the perfect carbonite sculpture of Pingu that adorned the wall of the cell.

Wai: What... you want the penguin?

Krig: WARRRGHGHGHG!

Wai took the carbonited penguin and handed it to Krig. Krig started to stroke it... then take an experimental bite of the carbonite casing.

Gasp! Out Heroes are in it now! Trapped on a lonely asteroid

Enchilada Man: "'Ey!"

By the roughest, toughest band of bounty0hunters ever seen in the NeS. Will they ever escape?

EM: "'EY!"

Find out next time..

EM: "EEEEEEEY!"

On... what?

EM: "You forgot us, man!"

Miss Fire: "Yeah! What about us?"

*Sigh* Look, you guys are just supporting cast

EM: "Hey man, none of that supporting cast crap! You geeve us someting, right now!"

All right... you guys got guns?

*RA-CHAK*

EM: Have we ever!

You're on the rescue party!

MF: "Yee-haw!"

Just as soon as you kill these Giant Space Wevils which infest the lifesystems you escaped through.

EM: "Huh?"

Have fun!

FM: "KHHHHAAAAANNNN!"

As all of these events unfold, a few doors down, sitting in a bar, we find ourselves in the company of a disgruntled looking figure wearing a sharp suit, holding a briefcase that has not been opened for as long as anyone can remember.

Bartender: Drink? Food? Anything I can help with?

Disgruntled FIgure: Yea... go away, help me help you perform this task.

He swings his briefcase through the air, spinning ti around faster and faster, as he does this it turns an electrifying yellow colour.

Bartender: AYIEEE! I'll go.

The briefcase powers down and returns to being seated on the floor next to this newly-introduced disgruntled figure.

Disgruntled Figure: Dammit, how many people do I need to make scream for them all to realise THAT I HATE THEM?!!?!

Tough Looking Man also sat at The Bar: Dude, calm down, that guy always gave me a discount, pull anything like that again and i'll be forced to kick your ***. Whats your name anyway?

Disgruntled Figure hits the TLMasaTB in the face with the briefcase, sending him flying 20 feet.

Disgruntled Figure: They call me Mr. around here, don't you be getting any ideas otherwise.

Yet Another Patron: Hey Stafford! Whats with the tough guy attitude? I saw you get a telling off from your girlfriend, you almost started crying!

Mr. Stafford: How the hell do you know who I am?

YAP: Wow, you really can't remember huh? I once hired you to do some... er... stuff, stuff that we shouldn't really speak about out loud unless we want a ****storm of law enforcement coming down on us.

Mr. Stafford: Understood, go away, the absolute last thing I want is a jovial idiot like you following me around, or a merry band of adventurers who use tounge-in-cheek humour getting involved with my business... unless they're hot, that is.

YAP: Errrr... ok then, best I go then.

Mr. Stafford: Yes, probablys for the best, and bring up that woman again under any circumstances and i'll find out,y ou mark my words, i'll know... then you'll be six feet under, if you get my meaning.

YAP quickly exists. Mr. Stafford turns back to the bar and pulls a bottle of whiskey out from under the other side of the bar, leaving some money next to the register. Nobody questions the fact he left far too little cash, in the wrong currency.

(NSP: Welcome Mr. Stafford, and nice post! I hope you don't mind if I take some liberties with your charcater and such. See the workshop thread for what thoughts I had in mind.)

Mr. Stafford exits the bar, taking heavy swigs of whiskey and mumbling something about the absurdity of life as he wanders aimlessly. When he looks up some vague amount of time later, he finds himself in the 8th dimension, lost in the woods.

Mr. Stafford: What the hell? How'd I get here?

You should pay more attention when you're wandering aimlessly next time.

Mr. Stafford: Eh, what's it matter? I need to find a place to crash, or at least find someone to give me directions back to civilization.

Just then, Mimiru enters the picture, surveying the area with some form of scanner.

Mimiru: Alright, that should be everything within two miles...

Mr. Stafford: Hello there...

Mimiru: Huh? Who're you?

Mr. Stafford: Mr. Stafford, but you can... --*clears throat* That is, can you direct me to a place I can stay the night, or a phone?

Mimiru: Sure, I guess...

Mimiru eyes Mr. Stafford, holding a now-nearly empty bottle of whiskey.

Mimiru: Follow me. I stay at a house a couple miles from here with some others. It's not the Comfort Inn, but we're trying to fix the place up.

Mimiru and Mr. Stafford head back to the Haunted House of Heroes. They enter to find Subaru and Maybechild.

Subaru: Who's this guy, Mimiru?

Stafford: A soul that's gone to heaven...

Mimiru: I found him as I was finishing my surveying. His name's Mr. Stafford, and he asked for a place to stay for the night.

Maybe: You sure he's uh... safe?

Mimiru: No, but we're hero-types. It's suppose to be our job to do good deeds like shelter people and stuff, right? Besides, I'm sure we can handle him if he causes trouble.

Stafford: Hero-types?

Ford and Mustang enter the room, followed by Dr. Dormouse and The Mega_ZZTer.

Ford: Maybechild! Everyone! Follow me!

Maybe: What? What's wrong?

Mustang: There is a dark secret in the deepest depths of this house, one which I've just explained to Ford, and it can not be contained for much longer. We may already be too late to stop it?

Mimiru: Stop what?

Ford: I'll explain on the way, hurry!

The heroes (and Mr. Stafford, thanks to Mimiru dragging him with her) all head their way down the creepy complex that lies underneath the Haunted House of Heroes. What is this dark secret? Does it relate to the flashbacks Mustang has been recounting? Wait -- of course it does! He said so. Will Mr. Stafford be sucked into comical adventures of epic proportions? Find out next time, here on the Never-ending Story Thread Squared!

Mr. Stafford: An adventure? Ah damnit.

Elsewhere in the galaxy, at that very moment-

TLTE: We appear to be in a bit of a bind, eh comrade?

The comment is especially ironic to his co-conversationalist, Cool Matty, who is himself bound to a dank prison wall and being whipped savagely by two pirates with wet towels.

CM: Agggh! If I ever get out of here, you Eastern European mockery of a man, I will end you and your ooooowwww!

He falters under the 39th towel whipping, and drops to the floor. TLTE watches on with equal parts regret and satisfaction. Actually, the satisfaction is winning, but only just.

Pirate Torturer #1: Now...tell us where your booty is!

TLTE: Listen, you demented cliches, we....have...no...booty! We're on our way to Jupiter, we stopped by for a flight plan and nothing else!

Pirate Torturer #2: Nothing else at all?!

TLTE: No!

Pirate Torturer #2: Not a single thing?!

TLTE: Well...I think for the sake of moral decency we were going to shoot you a little bit before we took the flight plans...but nothing else.

The pirates stare blankly at him.

TLTE: What, you don't believe me? Comrade's honour!

Pirate #1: Friend, you just signed your own death warrant. And your friends.

TLTE: Great Admiral Vodka, what have I done....

Suddenly, a harsh and rough voice echoes throughout the chamber-

Voice: Let them go. Now.

They all turn theatrically to the corner of the room, where Midvok the Renegade is standing chained against the wall. For the first time since meeting him though, TLTE sees a defiant purpose in his eyes.

Pirate Torturer #1: We don't take no orders from prisoners, boy. Even if your hygiene is questionable enough to resemble our own.

Pirate Torturer #2: Don't worry, though: we'll be over to horribly maim you just after these two.

Midvok: I order you to let them go not as a prisoner...but as your rightful captain.

There is a pregnant pause in the room, one which finally gives birth to a gale of throaty laughter from the pirates. TLTE and the weakened CM stare at Midvok, trying to work out what he intends to do, but the lean pirate does nothing but glare at their captors.

Midvok: Why do you laugh?

Pirate Torturer #1: Boy, the only pirate that orders us around is the Captain of the Demonrock himself, and he's on extended vacation.

Pirate Torturer #2: So as long as Captain Absolver is away, the rats - that's us - can play!

They laugh nefariously as Absolver and CM share a shocked glance.

CM: Absolver was....captain of....Demonrock?

TLTE: Incredible! But then what-

Midvok: Your captain is dead. I am his replacement, Captain Midvok.

Pirate Torturer #2: And what makes you think you're his rightful successor?

Midvok: Because-

And suddenly, from down his sleeves, the golden cutlasses of Absolver spring forth into Midvok's arms. At that moment, just as he says it, TLTE and CM understand it to be true.

Midvok: I am his brother.

Pirate Torturers: His brother?!

Midvok: Or was, anyway. He was killed by Gebohq a short matter of time ago.

TLTE: WHAT?!

Midvok gives him a silent glance, then whips his swords down and shatters both of the chains holding him. The first pirate torturer snarls with rage and leaps at Midvok, who angles a slash down that slices his foe's leg, sending him crashing to the floor. He looks up at the other pirate, a strange darkness in his eyes.

Midvok: We are leaving now, with the flight plans. And if you try to stop us-

Suddenly, there is the sound of a large explosion nearby. The sounds of clashing steel is heard in the air...then several screams of pain. A very pale-looking pirate rushes through the door to the room, looks at them all quickly, and says-

Pirate: We're in trouble.

-before falling to the floor, dead, a gaping axe-wound in his back.

As Midvok and the group prepare to battle their way out, someone pops their head in beside the other pirate...

Wai: Did I miss anything?

CM: Wai! What are you doing out of your cell?

Wai: Must I refer you to the last time I was jailed?

CM: Oh, right.

Miss Fire: Huh?

CM: He just "wanders" out. It's his special ability, if there is such a thing.

Miss Fire: And... it took him this long to get here?

Realization dawns on CM, and both him and Miss Fire glare at Wai.

Wai: Uh... uh... I was ... uh... lost! Yes, that's it!

CM: You have infared vision, don't give me that.

Wai: No! The infared was damaged by that crash landing on the moon!

CM: You have ultra-sensitive hearing also!

Wai: That was damaged also...

CM: And the smell sensors?

Wai: Out of order.

CM: Homing Becon?

Wai: Dunno where it went.

CM: And you watched us go in here?

Wai: Memory is damaged.

CM: WELL WHAT DOES WORK?

Wai: Well... there's ... no wait... umm, oh, my ... no ... wait! I think the ... nah... ummm....

Pirates: *cough* Uhh... we have a guy with a bloody axe wound, which we would like to obtain revenge for. Think we could get this show on the road?

Wai: Oh, of course, I wouldn't want to interrupt!

The two pirates in the room prepare for battle, just as a few more arrive behind Wai. Midvok quickly removes the bounds on everyone's hands.

TLTE: You could have at least brought our weapons, Wai.

Wai: Well, I encountered some problems on the way, your guns weren't high on the priority list.

Midvok, being the only armed man in the room besides the pirates, starts off the fight. TLTE falls into an old russian wrestling stance, and CM prepares his fire. Miss Fire grabs Wai and bolts down a different hallway, looking for their weapons. Enchilada Man sits in the corner, dozed off, unaware of what was taking place. As for Krig? How the hell do I know?

RAM: Wait, you are a third-person narrator. You are supposed to know all!

You try figuring out that lunatic midget! He's as predictable as a horsefly!

RAM: *cough* BS *cough*

*ignoring RAM* Anyway, the brawl begins...

TLTE: Prepare for the PILEDRIVER! The classic Russian move, courtesy ye old USSR!

CM: Haha, I knew magic would be advantageous someday! Who needs weapons!

Midvok: Excuse me brother, as it seems I am forced to use your beautiful weaponry.

TLTE promptly grabs the closest pirate, and performs the devastating PILEDRIVER on him, crushing bone.

CM heats up the next pirate's gun, causing the pirate to drop the gun. Then CM sets the pirate's clothes on fire, and the pirate runs down the hall screaming.

Midvok takes up his brother's swords and executes a quick neck chop maneuver, which all but completely removes the pirate's head, in quite a gruesome manner.

Pirates 4 & 5: Uhh... crap.

TLTE: Who else wants a taste of USSR Wrestling Power?

CM: Or maybe charcoal?

Midvok: No, they're mine.

Midvok moves quicky up to the fourth pirate, disarming him (literally). He then spins, bringing his other sword to bear at the fifth pirate's lower abdomen. The slice cuts deep, and the man grabs his stomach. Without stopping, in one fluid movement, Midvok stabs them both in the back, leaving both of them to fall down, at his sides.

---

Absolver: What a nice move! I taught him that move, you know.

God: No, you didn't.

Absolver: Did too! I taught him a bunch of moves like that!

God: I'm freakin GOD. Who are you trying to kid?

Absolver: You know, you aren't any fun to hang out with. How's a man supposed to build up his ego here?

God: Just like anyone else worth their snuff... Counter-Counter-Counter-Strike 2.1.1.5 Source Nerfed Edition!

With the pirates taken care of at the prison cells, can the heroes escape? And even more importantly, can they obtain the flight plans? Stay tuned for more! (Or wait for God to tell you what is happening next, freakin spoiling *******.)

God: Excuse me?

YOU HEARD ME! I DON'T EVEN EXIST, WHAT YOU GONNA *pow*

ow!

(NSP: Finally, the post I've been meaning to get posted for weeks. Hope you all like it.)

The essence of the Never-ending Story propels the thread of its existance to weave a fractal tapestry (though whether the fractal tapestry spirals upwards or downward is left a mystery) having halted only twice. Once, the thread was cut short, at the end of page fifty, so that it could be squared and continue stronger, which also caused a split that continued as NeShattered. Then, the squared thread would take a hit to the head, metaphorically speaking, and fell unconscious, where it had a nightmarish vision of the Ever-ending Plot. Even now, their effects are still being felt by the NeS on a subconscious level...

GebiylEeP: "GAAAAAAAAHH!!!"

In the foggy night, on top of unlevel rooftops, Gebiyl-EeP thrashes about. He plants the Staff of Tourni on the ground, holding it and the NeSword with both hands in a single grip as he falls to the ground, summoning his will to regain control... then proceeds to bang his helmeted head against the blade of the NeSword.

GebiylEeP: "Get -- out -- of -- my -- HEAD! You're not real!"

Gebiyl-EeP pulls himself up in apparent defiance, the demonic armor and dark red cross satchel shifting with significant noise.

GebiylEeP: "No. I'll never leave. You must admit... submit..."

The red aura surrounding Gebiyl-EeP vibrated larger... and larger... and larger... and--

GebiylEeP: "SHUT UP!"

Well excuse me...

GebiylEeP: "Curse this cell that imprisons me! I must find those who can leave at will, but who?"

He rubs his eyebrows, attempting to untangle so many heavy thoughts. His head and shoulders twitch, and a, uh, rather disturbing smirk cracks his face...

GebiylEeP: "Oh dear Narrator..."

Nice try, oh Evil One, but you know I have no physical power over what happens, I just tell it as it is.

Gebiyl: "This is true..."

Gebiyl-EeP holds out the NeSword and Staff of Tourni in a, heh heh, threatening manner...

GebiylEeP: "...but you can tell me who can travel in and out of this sub-setting of a story thread."

Now wait just a minute, there's no need to resort to violence. We can work this out, yes we can... we can...

What the... where'd he go? Oh, there you are, but how'd you-- OH DEAR LORD THE PAIN! *hurk*....

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Under the starry night of the dreamstate, in the gardens of Arkng Thand's tower, Bhac and Mayaal battle in their never-ending conflict to keep the NeS in balance and, more importantly, active. They stop momentarily.

Bhac: "Oh hello, Narrator. Nice night for a fight, don't you think?"

No time for chit-chat, you have to watch out for--

GebiylEeP: "Thank you Narrator for the help, but I don't need it now!"

With incredible speed, Gebiyl-EeP leaps for Mayaal, the head of the Staff of Tourni ready to discharge deadly magic at him. Mayaal sweeps with his own staff, checking the Staff of Tourni just enough to avoid damage, then pulls his pistol out to fire. Gebiyl-EeP smacks the pistol away with the NeSword, and brings it down on his head and misses! Some feet to the side, Bhac has tackled Mayaal on the ground.

Bhac: "Quick, inside!"

Bhac pulls Mayaal off the ground and towards the entrance into Arkng Thand's tower. Gebiyl-EeP pursues, but his face meets the door as it closes on him.

GebiylEeP: "Damn it!"

Inside the tower, Bhac and Mayaal brace the door shut with a wooden beam. Startled, Arkng Thand gets up from his reading as Bhac and Mayaal approach him. Erronem, Phoenix, Alexan, and Shadowlord enter from upstairs soon after.

Shadowlord: "What's wrong?"

Mayaal: "The Shattered Geb. He's brought the Plot that could destroy us."

Alexan: "The potential... dear Lord..."

Erronem: "We can't risk him entering."

Arkng Thand: "I think it's too late for that."

Thand points at the closed entrance, where the group sees Gebiyl-EeP half-slide past, half-materialize through the door.

Shadowlord: "That's not possible."

GebiylEeP: "You should know better, Shadowlord. When one can dream..."

Gebiyl-EeP juts his hand through the wall, and across the room, Arkng Thand begins to choke. Shadowlord turns to see Gebiyl-EeP now next to Arkng Thand, gripping him by the neck.

GebiylEeP: "...anything's possible."

He then snaps his attention to Arkng Thand.

GebiylEeP: "Help me out!"

Gebiyl-EeP's wild, wide eyes sharpen thin as his gaze pierce into Thand's own near-frightful eyes.

GebiylEeP: "I need to be set free..."

He continues to stare, waiting for some response from Arkng. Arkng Thand appears to have gained some composure, and now looks back at Gebiyl-EeP.

GebiylEeP: "Somebody is going to help me, or--"

As Gebiyl-EeP looks to the others, however, he notices something is wrong. It is too late, however, as he is tackled to the ground, and loses his grip on Arkng Thand. He watches as Mayaal rebounds off him and to the side. Gebiyl-EeP spins around, to see Mayaal, Erronem, Shadowlord, Phoenix, Bhac and Alexan surrounding him. He notices strike marks being taped down in one triangle surrounding him, and in a reverse direction, three glowing points...

GebiylEeP: "NO!"

...and swings the NeSword violently. The blade is met by an invisible wall. Gebiyl-EeP tries again, but the light on him intensifies to a blinding degree as the room around grows dark.

GebiylEeP: "My eyes! Ughhhhh... must press on..."

In the surrounding darkness, the Potentials, the Hands of NeS, Shadowlord and Arkng Thand can now see a very well-lit Gebiyl-EeP now having difficulty moving.

Arkng Thand: "Well done. Almost forgot about the potential power of putting someone in the spotlight."

Bhac: "We're just lucky that, despite their roles, neither the former Ohq nor the EeP revel in being center stage. We'd have had problems otherwise."

Arkng Thand: "Where's Gebiyl's body outside the dreamstate now?"

Mayaal: "I moved it to a safe location. You understand if we can't disclose the exact wereabouts at this time."

Arkng Thand: "Yes, of course."

GebiylEeP: "Not... fast enough. Timing..."

At this point, Gebiyl-EeP completely freezes up.

Shadowlord: "Pardon my rampant ignorance, but what was he talking about just now?"

Arkng Thand: "No need to apologize, Shadowlord; the foundation of ignorance is in not questioning. One of the basic building blocks that affects, and in turn, is affected by the NeS is, as you know, video games. As any of the Potentials can tell you, one of the primary potentials inherit in Gebiyl is that of the 'speed-runner.' Enhanced by the power of the EeP, Gebiyl becomes aware of the "laws"... the "physics" that run in the NeS, much like myself. It is part of how he moves so fast without tripping, and how he slipped past our door and *clears throat* choked me from the other side of the room."

Shadowlord: "I see... I think."

Phoenix: "Now we are posed with another dilemma. What are we to do with him?"

In the darkness, everyone looks at the frozen-yet-well-lit Gebiyl-EeP.

Erronem: "Well I think we can all agree that the Shattered Geb, being possessed by the Ever-ending Plot, is a serious threat to NeS. Therefore, we should keep him locked up."

Mayaal: "However, ejecting the EeP from the inner thoughts of NeS was our original intent, not protecting the lives of singular characters that would be put in danger. Conflict needs to be out in the open for the NeS to continue, and we are ultimately not the ones meant to battle the EeP."

Alexan: "The need for conflict in this great story should not superceed what is the good and right thing to do."

Shadowlord: "A force to counter that which is good and even the NeS is what's needed, though, and with the NeS keeping us in the dark about the sucessors as Protectors of the Plotfractal, this becomes more of an issue."

Bhac: "Gebiyl was the only known canidate, and now it's looking as if he won't be on the list anymore. Crazy fool."

Arkng Thand: "It's his insanity that's kept the EeP from taking complete control over him..."

Phoenix: "In any case, there's less potential in freeing him without good reason than if we keep him imprisioned."

Shadowlord: "What kind of logic is that?"

Phoenix: "I'm saying we should wait for a more opportune moment."

Shadowlord: "Oh."

Arkng Thand: "I disagree."

The others turn to look at Arkng Thand with confusion.

Arkng Thand: "Follow with me on this one. Gebiyl was Gebohq, right? And how did he become villianous? He was essentially forced into the position. We embraced the ways of the EeP when his life was placed in the Shattered Thread."

The Potentials and the Hands of NeS shuffle uncomfortably.

Arkng Thand: "Now, if we freed Gebiyl, there's a high chance that Gebohq could become villianous himself, allowing Gebiyl to become good..."

Phoenix: "Arkng, I think the recent events have shaken you up more than you may have realized."

Arkng Thand: "But--... no, you're right. I don't do well in physical conflict. I should sit down and reflect."

Erronem: "Good idea. We will have to rendevous again to decide what to do with him. *gestures to GebiylEeP* You and Shadowlord can keep an eye on him. Alexan, Phoenix and myself have to keep tabs on Morthrandur's trail."

Bhac: "And Mayaal and I have work to do. Always work..."

Mayaal: "Oh stop complaining, you know you like it."

The Potentials and the Hands of NeS exit, leaving Arkng Thand and Shadowlord alone with the still-yet-well-lit Gebiyl-EeP.

Shadowlord: "So... want to watch 'Survivor'?"

Arkng Thand: "Ugh, bleh, no. I'd read a good book anyday of the week."

Arkng Thand proceeds to pick up the book he was reading earlier and continues where he left off. The cover reads "A Cherry Orchard."

Our spacefaring group of Heroes dashes dashingly through the halls and corridors of the gritty asteroid complex of Demonrock. The initial confusion of their escape has been replaced with a cool professionalism as some of the NeS's most proficient fighters begin to work as a team. TLTE takes point, waving a confiscated space-pirate pistol around like the Russian James Bond he is, smoothly covering all angles of fire in rapid succession. Immediately behind is Miss Fire, covering their flanks with two pistols, followed by Wai and the Enchilada Man. Bringing up the rear is Cool Matty, watching for pursuers, small blue flames crackling and swirling above his palms.

Enchilada Man: Hey, hombres, has all this excitement made anyone else hungry for some nice tasty enchiladas?

Miss Fire: Excitement? You haven't even done anything!

Enchilada Man: I have been providing moral support!

Miss Fire: You slept through the whole thing! We spent five minutes just trying to get you to wake up from your nap!

Enchilada Man: Ayayay, women, they do not understand the intricate balance of--

Wai: Quiet! I heard something!

There is a *fluuuuush-sh-sh-sh* sound, and a random pirate wearing a neon green bandana on his head walks out from a room marked "Ladies Room". He stretches, scratches his stomach, and then notices TLTE pointing a gun at him. With a girly shriek, he runs away down the hallway.

TLTE: After him! He'll get reinforcements!

The gang gives chase in a clatter of boots on metal. The neon-clad pirate reaches the end of the hall and turns a corner, dissapearing from view. Some shouting can be heard, and then he reappears, running straight at the Heroes.

Wai: What the heck is he doing?

Following behind the pirate in neon, a large gang of fifteen or so pirates of various sizes and shapes also rounds the corner, yelling loudly and gesticulating. Oddly, they don't seem angry at finding a bunch of escaped prisoners in their hallways. Instead, they seem terrifed of something behind them.

Pirate 1: Aaaagh! Get out of the way! Run!

Miss Fire: Huh?

Pirate 4: Run for your lives! It'll kill us all!

Pirate 10: It got Chuck! It got Chuck! It--ackpth!

Pirate 9: Bill! Oh no!

As the pirates swarm past, the dreadful thing pursuing them rounds the corner, all hair and dirt and teeth and high-tech space helmet.

TLTE: Krig!

Krig: NASTY PIRATE MANS NOT EAT TASTY BIRDY! BIRDY FOR KRIG TO EAT! KRIG SMASH NASTY PIRATE MANS!

Krig runs past in pursuit of the pirates, not even noticing TLTE and the others. From around the corner, following Krig, comes another strange, figure, waddling comically.

Pingu the Penguin: Krig, slow down! I can't keep up! I'm not designed for these insane speeds! I must be going like 5 miles per hour! I can't turn properly at these speeds! Aaaah!

Pingu runs into a wall at a blistering five miles per hour, and falls on his back. He then sees TLTE and the others looking down at him.

Pingu: Oh. Hi guys!

TLTE: Who are you?

Pingu: The penguin? Deus ex Machina? Failed plot device? Showed up on Mars for some reason?

TLTE: Oh, right. Didn't Krig eat you?

Pingu: What? No! Not that he didn't try. Constantly.

CM: We gotta hurry, guys. Those space pirates might be back at any moment!

TLTE: We'll let Krig take care of them. We need to find those flight plans!

Pingu: Flight plans... to Jupiter?

TLTE: Da. Wait... why do you ask?

Pingu: Oh, I've got those right here!

TLTE: ...

Pingu: Had 'em the whole time! I told you I was a deus ex machina!

TLTE: ...

Pingu: ...well you didn't ask...

CM: No time for bitter recriminations, we have to grab the Viking and get out of here!

Midvok: He's right.

Wai: Permit me.

The diminutive android walks over to a generic computer interface on the wall and plugs his Alldrive into it. There is a brief pause, and then-

Wai: I have the Demonrock schematics. That elevator there should take us most of the way to the hangar.

TLTE: And Krig?

On cue, the roof splits open and Krig, surrounded by a very dead mob of pirates, drops to the floor. Krig, his berserker rage coming to an end, looks sheepish before regaining an air of authority.

Krig: No ticket!

Shaking off the surprise, they all turn around and start marching with purpose to the elevator. Were this an epic movie and not an Internet story this would be the part where the camera first did a wide shot of the heroes marching in line, then slowly pan close-up over all of their grim, determined faces-

Random Audience Member: Hey! Why are you doing movie directions?

I'm branching out. I hope to write a movie script someday.

Random Audience Member: Whatever...weren't you killed by Gebiyl anyway a few posts back?

Oh, that. I made a deal with Jim7, actually. I sold my soul and was allowed to continue living as long as this narrating gig keeps going. *snicker* What a chump...they don't call it the NEVER-ENDING story for nothing!

Random Audience Member: Not bad, buddy.

Yeah, I know. Plus I'm married to Angelina Jolie now.

Random Audience Member: Man, I need to talk to Jim7.

Talk to Beezlebub in Human Resources. Tell him The Narrator sent you. Oh, damn, I need to get back to it, there's an exciting bit coming up.

Random Audience Member: Alright. Thanks a lot, dude.

Word.

TLTE: There, the lift! Our salvation! Now, onto Jupiter - and Losien!

CM: Onto Losien?

TLTE: Well, not all of us. Heh.

They are just about to reach the elevator when suddenly, dramatically, it shudders and opens by itself. With the opening pangs of John Williams' Duel of the Fates ringing in their ears, the Blackguard looks up at them. At least fifteen space pirates are lying dead at his feet, with various scorch and hack marks upon them. The Blackguard looks, as always, unharmed by battle.

Pingu: Eek!

CM: It's him!

Blackguard: I find you at last.

TLTE mentally prepares for a salvo of verbal taunts, plotting his way through the inevitable cut and thrust of good guy/bad guy interaction. Instead, the Blackguard loads a grenade with a "thunk" noise, raises the large barrel of his launcher and fires without a moment's hesitation.

Miss Fire: DUCK!

She leaps out of the way, the first in the path of the projective. The shot is aimed directly at TLTE, who jumps into the air and grasps an overhead pipe, pulling his legs out of the way as the grenade lands and detonates violently underneath him. The other heroes variously roll and leap out of the way: Pingu waddles into a corner and prays for invisibility.

CM: He's not toying with us this time!

And the young mage is exactly right. There is none of the Blackguard's cynical taunting, no degrading or patronising as seen in their previous encounters. Instead, there is a cold expertise in his movements that enhances his already potent abilities immeasurably. The towering figure of evil ducks slightly as he exits the elevator, already unloading his grenade launcher and preparing another round.

Krig: Krig handle!

He leaps at the Blackguard, landing about a foot away. Demonstrating pure Norse ingenuity, Krig uses the distance to start spinning, bringing his axe around in three revolutions of increasing speed and power before finally landing a charged blow on the Blackguard's breastplate, easily his most crippling blow yet and one that would instantly decimate a normal human. The Blackguard's cobalt armour holds fast, though, and the Blackguard himself does not even flinch as he looms over the plucky Viking.

Krig: ...Baldur?

Before anyone can warn him, a jet-black axe flies around and strikes his head. Krig's high-tech helmet splits cleanly in two: Krig himself pirouettes on the spot before dropping hard to the floor. Blood oozes from a significant head wound

CM: Krig, no! Die, you *******!

He jumps in between the Blackguard and the rest of the heroes, dropping to one knee as he prepares his most devastating attack, the Phoenix Gale...but stops halfway through, his empty hand grasping for-

CM: -the staff of Tourni! Gebiyl!!!

Excruciatingly vulnerable, CM can only take a few rushed steps backward before the Blackguard fires another grenade at his feet. The explosive blast force is enough to launch him back into the wall, and he sinks slowly to the floor, his garments still sizzling and burning from the intense heat. Through the smoke and ashes, Miss Fire and Enchilda Man sprint forward, screaming Latino battle cries as they charge. His face a picture of concentration, the Blackguard swipes his axe upward, unleashing a huge concentration of metalwork and pipes which slam down upon the two, knocking them flat.

Blackguard: Worthless. Every one of you is pitiful.

Wai is the next to close on the villain, dodging his axe stroke and triggering his flamethrower. The Blackguard catches the blast full on the face, and it appears that his dark features wither and corrode under its blast - but when Wai's fuel tank runs dry, the marks are no longer visible. Undeterred, Wai snatches up his sword and swings-

Blackguard: No.

-but it is blocked by the Blackguard's axe, who turns the blade into the wall. Wai tries to move, but the Blackguard kicks him ferociously into the wall as well, pinning him, and then fires a grenade at point-blank range. The flames wash over them and then dissipate, revealing a crumpled android and an undamaged Blackguard.

TLTE: Wai...

He looks disgustedly at his space-pistol and tosses it aside, wishing for his confiscated arms-coat and military sabre. Midvok stands next to him and looks on with pity.

Midvok: Here, TLTE.

He hands TLTE one of Absolver's golden pirate cutlasses. Although not the usual length or style of blade he uses, TLTE observes that the weapon is of the finest quality, perfectly balanced and razor-sharp.

Midvok: You were good friends with him, so it is said. I have a feeling that he would have wanted you to have this at our last stand. It is our last stand, right?

TLTE: It certainly seems that way, comrade. But thank you.

They both turn back to the Blackguard, who approaches them with his heavy tread. Behind him, the rest of the NeS crew, broken, battered, most of them still smouldering from their opponent's vicious work.

Blackguard: The last two. Hold still and save us all a good deal of time.

He swings his axe in a low arc at both of them. TLTE and Midvok both lean under the strike, countering with a flurry of strokes and jabs, but it is useless. No matter the ferocity of either swordsman, neither of them can make so much of a nick or dent in the Blackguard's armour: and the attacks aimed for his unexposed head either fall short or have no lasting effect. Finally, Midvok overcompensates on a sword swipe and stumbles forward. TLTE notices and rushes forward to aid him but exposes his flank and receives a glancing, but nonetheless incapacitating axe-blow to the ribs.

TLTE: AGH!

Clutching his side to stem the blood flow, he sinks to his knees. Midvok recovers just in time to see the Blackguard's axe thrust backwards at him. The pirate lord spins awkwardly, and turns to run, but is hit full in the face with the concussive wave of a grenade blast. At the last moment Midvok twists his body to defend himself from the worst of it, but nonetheless is flung into a wall, dents it severely, and lies unmoving as a fountain of metal debris lands on him.

Blackguard: So it is done.

He turns back to TLTE, who is trying vainly to stand and reach for his dropped cutlass. Seeing the Blackguard in front of him, he stops and grits his teeth.

TLTE: Kill me with honour, monster.

For the first time since his appearance, the Blackguard allows himself a smile.

Blackguard: You are to be spared. At least until you meet your woman's captor, that is. Or should I say..reunite with him?

TLTE: What-

The Blackguard lashes out with his boot, knocking TLTE out of consciousness. Grabbing the Russian spy's leg, he begins to drag him to the elevator.

Blackguard: In five minutes, the Demonrock explodes into its own miniature asteroid field. In fifteen minutes, you and I will be on Jupiter. In two hours...well, we'll just have to wait and see.

He laughs to himself as the elevator snaps shut. There is a long silence, then-

Pingu: Er...I probably should have done something to help.

A beat.

Pingu: Make that definitely.

(EDIT: Have noticed after a few hour's sleep this post does not meet standards set by TLTE's workshop. Will fix this post-haste)

(EDIT2: There... I think it's better now...)

Pingu sat among the bodies.Or rather, he sat on the bodies. Krig's to be precice.

.oO(Oh man oh man oh man oh man! I was only supposed to show up for a single post and show the guys where they were supposed to go! Not watch them get all beat up by that freakazoid in the black armour!)

A handy screen on the wall flickered into life. It read: 4:50. After all, the heroes in a movie always know how much time they've got left, eh? Pingu looked down at Krig. An ox, with an ox's brain... and an ox's body. He tried moving him.

Pingu: "EEEEEEEHHHH!"

And failed miserably. What, you expected Robopenguin?

Pingu: "Damn, I'm gonna need some help. Hey guys!"

--------------

In Writer-Land. In an expensive vacation resort.

TLTE-the-Writer: "Got any threes?"

CoolMatty-the-Writer: "Go fish"

--------------

Pingu: "HEY! GUYS!"

Random member of the audience: "What? Me?"

Pingu: "Not you! HEY! WRITER GUYS!"

----------

In Writer Land. Outside, on the private beach next to the expensive vacation resort

Wai-the-Writer: "Are the coals ready yet?"

Krig-the-Writer: "Nah. Give it another minute, then bring out the burgers."

-----------

Pingu: *le sigh*

Random Member of the Audience: "Hey buddy, you need a hand?"

Pingu: "Do I ever! Give me a hand with Krig here."

RAM: "UUUGGHGH!"

Pingu: "UUUGHGHGHGGGHH!"

RAM: "What's this lardass been eatin'?"

Pingu: "Shutupshtupshutup! He's sensitive about his weight!"*

RAM: "But he weighs a freakin'"

Krig: "....ton?"

RAM: Glurk. Gasp. Choke.

Pingu: "Down! Down boy! Leggo the nice man! Don't dash his brains against the ceiling!"

Krig dropped the struggling RAM, so he could clasp both meaty hams to his still-bleeding forehead.

Krig: "Wotan's beard! Krig got headache size of longboat! What Krig been drinking? And.. where.. WHERE IS KRIG'S NEW HELMET???"

Pingu: "Gaaah! Leggo me, you walking battering ram! You ran into that guy in the black armour.. wosshisname..."

The Blackguard

Pingu:"Yeah, him, he beat you all up, smashed your new helmet and ran off with... Krig.. what's up?"

Krig: "What you mean? Krig.. loose..."

Pingu: "Well... if you mean, get your face kicked in without landing even one blow, then yeah, I guess..."

Krig: "This... this never happen.... Krig... doesn't... Krig can't.. Krig.... wouldn't..... loose... happy.... new.... helmet! WAAAH!"

Pingu: "Eh, I wouldn't loose any sleep over it. That Blackguard guy looked like he could take you on with one hand tied behind his back.... should be glad that helmet probably saved you. So you gonna help me with these guys or wha... Krig? Krig? HELLO? Oh man, don't wig out on me now!** We've only got"

Three minutes...

Pingu: "...three minutes until this place blows!"

Krig: "Krig in happy safe place. Krig in happy safe place. Krig in happy safe place!"

Pingu: "Arrrrgh! I'm too short for this shiznat! I've got the St. Valenties Day beatdown on my hands, a wizard who holy crap on a stick is on fire....

Pingu tried beating out the flames on CoolMatty's burnin' body. Alas, penguin flippers are not pratical for putting someone out.....

RAM: "Man, that is NOT cool."

Pingu: "Shutup and bandage these flippers."

RAM: "Dude, when he wakes up, you had better explain why he has half a shirt."

Pingu: "A sacrifice in times like this.. now.. bandage the damn flippers! We've got less than...

Two minutes

Pingu: "...two minutes until this place... WILL YOU SHUT THE HELL UP!!"

Pardon me, I'm sure! Just doing my job... *mutter mutter*

RAM: "Hey, I think he's coming around..."

CM: "Oooh..."

Pingu: *CLONK* "No he ain't. Give me a hand here... I've got an idea."

Half a minute later.....

CM: "Whose arse is this?"

Wai: "What?"

CM: "I want to know whose backside is staring me in the face. And... why am I feeling so cold?"

Wai: "For that matter, I'd like to know why my lower sensors can detect a distinct and constant pressure close to my coccyx."

CM: "...."

Wai: "...."

Miss Fire: "...."

Enchilada Man: "...."

Krig: "Safe place safe place safe place safe place"

Pingu: "Ah, good. You're all awake. Now, listen. GLURK"

CM: "I'll be generous, bird. You can explain to me why I'm staring at Wai's rear end, and in return, you can die quickly."

EM: "Yeah man.. and what the hell is with all that noise! Those sirens and those steam blast?"

Wai: "And... are we on a mine cart?"

CM: "...."

Wai: "...."

EM: "....."

MF: "....."

Krig: "Weeeee!"

Pingu: "No... time... TLTE.... taken... by... Blackguard... Demonrock... explode... one... minute... quickest.. way..... to.... Hangar...."

Wai: "Errr.. weren't we on our way to the Hangar already?"

Pingu: "All... unconcious.... only... way.... use... this"

CM: "Isn't that...."

EM: "...a plot-hole pistol?"

(NSP: *According to Gebohq
**According to Gebohq, Krig can wig out if you look at him funny. Sunglasses, anyone?)

*Inside the Blackguard's secret escape ship, speeding towards Jupiter...*

The Blackguard: "Ha ha! I am a villian, and I have defeated you! Ha ha ha!"

The Last True Evil: "I've always found a way to stop scum like you in the past, and I'll do it again, you...uh...scum."

The Blackguard: "No, I don't think so. You see, here we are in parking orbit around Jupiter; the Demonrock is about to explode into it's very own miniature asteroid field, and my evil plans will at last be fulfilled. There's really nothing you can do, now is there?"

The Last True Evil: "I won't let that happen -"

The Blackguard: "Oh but you will, for I am evil! Your friends shall all die and I will dance on all their graves!"

*TLTE struggles against his bonds to no avail in typical hero fashon.*

The Blackguard: "And now, as the clock counts down to zero, my moment of supreme victory is at hand."

*A nearby clock ticks of the final seconds to the cataclysmic explosion and we cut to a montage of current events.*

5...

*Cool Matty and Wai make a desperate dash for the hangar.*

4...

*The remaining space pirates man their escape pods.*

3...

*Krig wigs it out old-school.*

2...

*Pengu the Penguin can't. Sentance. Good.*

1...

*The Blackguard laughs his evil laugh, taunting TLTE who refuses to stop fighting.

0.

*Something blows up huge, but it's not the Demonrock - in a surprise twist it is planet Jupiter that explodes! Massive shockwaves arc out from the gas giant, easily vaporizing The Blackguard's ship - the destruction is on so massive a scale that the even the heroes onboard Demonrock can feel the planet rend itself apart.*

Pengu the Penguin: "What. Just. Happened."

Cool Matty: "Wait, I'm picking up a signal on my communicator device!"

Wai: "You mean your telephone?"

*Shooting Wai a glare, CM whips out his cellular phone.*

Cool Matty: "Hello?"

Telephone: "Cookedhaggis here, my dear fellow. I daresay there's been a slight mishap in the reactor room."

Cool Matty: "Meaning?"

Telephone: "Well, Otter and I set out to get you off of this bloody time bomb, but he was hitting the liquor cabnet a mite hard on the way here and to make a long story short he jettisoned the explosive reactor, and, er..."

Pengu the Penguin: "It went to Jupiter then blew up?"

Telephone: "Precisely. And between you and I, this could have some dreadfully serious reprecussions."

Cool Matty: "Why? We've destroyed all kinds of stuff in the past."

Telephone: "Yes, but I'm a bit worried that he's killed all the Jupitonians."

*Haggis tries to say something else, but is drowned out by an incoherent drinking song. CM hangs up and whips the phone in his pocket.*

Wai: "What about TLTE? He was in the vicinity of Jupiter."

*Pengu speaks up, his voice full of grim assurance.*

Pengu the Penguin: "Don't worry. The one thing I know about TLTE is that appearances deceive - if there's a way out to be found, he'll find it."

Cool Matty: "But you don't know anything about TLTE. You're just an inarticulate clay penguin."

*In a conspiratorial manner, Pengu raises an eyebrow.*

Pengu the Penguin: "Am I? Am I really?"

*And so the writers had their brains sold on ebay and were replaced by tuna fish.*

Mars. Even from this far away you could see the carnage the explosion had caused. Everyone was panicking, and for good reason, too. Jupiter was home to many rare yet important natural resources – the kilometre-long spork-farming strips, for instance, or the bizarre bog-roll trees that adorned 30% of the surface.

The landing bay was illuminated in a sick pink, because someone had thrown up over the lights. The great hulk of the cinnabon cruiser thrummed gently (still), people rushing to-and-fro from various doorways. Towards one end of the bustle, the Guard’s Generic Coffee House was as busy as ever. Two figures, listened on by a third, chatted excitedly over some coffee and doughnuts.

Jim: Did you hear the news? Jupiter’s been--

Steve: Yeah, I know, I know. It’s over every bloody news terminal and on every bloody channel. It’s like we have the memory span of a goldfish.

Jim: What about the sporks? Or the bog-roll?

Steve: As I hear it, that’s not the least of the problem. Jupiter’s one of the only places where you can get cinnabore.

Jim: Cinnabore… you don’t mean…

Steve: Yes, Jim. Cinnabore – the key ingredient in cinnabons that makes them so magically delicious.

Tony: Audible gasp!

The two turn around.

Steve: You know, when it says “audible gasp”, you actually gasp audibly.

Jim: Indeed.

Midvok: Well, we already used that joke.

TLTE: At least our scenes involve content and not a bunch of… people sitting around and talking.

Otter: Well, atleasht we have beer!

Mayall: Get on with it!

Mob of Bounty Hunters on Demonrock: Yeah! Get on with it!

Steve: Anyway, that’s the situation.

Jim: Makes you think, doesn't it...

Steve: That it does.

The two sit idly slurping thier coffee for a few moments, when Jim suddenly looks shocked.

Jim: Did you hear the news? Jupiter’s been--

Steve: Yeah, I know. It’s on every bloody news terminal and over every bloody airwave. It’s like we have the attention of goldfish.

Tony: Um... we've been through this already!

Jim: Excuse me, but we're having a conversation here. So what about the sporks? Or the bog-roll?

Steve: Apparently, that’s not the least of the problem. Cinnabore's only found in a few places, one of them being Jupiter.

Jim: Cinnabore! You mean…

A completely random guy wearing dark glasses and a suit walks up to the group, because it was probably necessary for the plot device. It’s not really that important, and there are myriads of different ways it could have been done in place of this, but there you go.

Glasses: Your mission, ssshould you choossse to accept it…

RAM: Oh, cut the crap! This is the second movie parody in the post! Think of something more original!

Click.

RAM: Click!? What the hell’s “click” got to do with any-- huurk!

As the random audience member is dragged off surrepticiously (see, I can use long words too!) by some indeterminate figures, the random man adjusts his tie.

Glasses: Let’sss start again. You already know the condition of Jupiter. Although you are not quite as well… qualified as the others, I nevertheless leave you to make a decissssion on what to do now. I trust you won’t make a mistake.

Tony: So what are the options?

A gameshow host with a Grin sidesteps into the scenery, and the coffee shop suddenly takes on a more… colourful appearance. When I say colourful, I mean “designed by a blind wombat with rabies”. A plasterboard wall with three doors on descends from the ceiling – the doors themselves each have the numbers 1, 2 and 3 painted behind them and sparkles gratuitously added. Canned applause and laughter can be heard.

Host: Well, Tony, you’ve made it to the final round. (applause) Behind one of these doors is a journey to Jupiter (‘ooooh’ sound from audience), and behind another is a journey to Earth… (‘ooooh’ sound from audience) Or you could gamble it all for a special prize (cheering). You have ten seconds to decide!

The canned audience chant “Gamble! Gamble!” as the clock ticks down. The random suit turns towards Tony, who stares mesmerically at the flashing lights and the sparkles, oh, the sparkles! What can’t they do?

Glasses: It’ss time to choose…

What will Tony do now? Will anyone write for him apart from his writer self? What the hell was up with this scene, anyway? All this... will be lost… in time… like tears… in rain... Time… to—

RAM#2: Oh, no you don’t! Three parodies is enough!

I was going to say, “Time.. to tune in next post!” You spoil all the fun.

RAM#2: Pff.

*Conglomocorp. A massive entity of the corporate universe which nobody has ever heard of. Their products, operations, and even personnel have come to pervade the known solar system. In a particular warehouse of theirs, located on a stray asteroid in an orbit around the sun somewhat larger than Pluto's, a technician on break enjoyed his beverage of choice while watching a monitor displaying the latest news.*

Tech: *slurp*

Man on TV: And thus, we've come to believe that the destruction of Jupiter was, in fact, not an act of egoistic hedonism at all...

*The tech's supervisor stumbled into the breakroom, reeking of gin and possibly some tonic as well. The man had most likely been drinking heavily, as he was 12 hours late for work.*

Tech: So, you decided to show up today? Honestly, I don't know why they pay you more than me.

Supervisor: If I didn't have a splitting headache, I'd go on about my hard work through 5 years of college. But honestly, it wasn't difficult. I just like giving you a hard time. So... you hear about this Jupiter thing?

Tech: Yeah, a real mess they made it seems. Must have been a pretty big bomb, too.

Supervisor: Oh? I thought Jupiter was primarily hydrogen with some helium... wouldn't that, you know, make it all flammable?

Tech: Sure, except you kind of need oxygen for combustion. At most, the gasses were just spread out a ways.

Supervisor: So, think they'll be having us replace it?

Tech: Not likely. It's looking more like the "planet" will be coming back around and condensing, possibly becoming a second sun for our solar system. Could be pretty interesting. Me, I'm gonna sit around here and laugh to myself for a bit.

Supervisor *sitting down in a nearby chair*: Why...?

*As the supervisor lowered himself into the chair, it fell out from under him.*

Tech: Because I took the bolts out of your chair. Happy April 1st.

Supervisor: Yeah... well... I slipped the debilitating polio virus into your drink.

*What now? Are we going to have a dual-solar system? And how will that affect the Earth?! Speaking of which, maybe someday we'll pick back up with the heroes trying to save Earth from Hell... Or perhaps I should just take my pension and get out of here before things get worse. Find out next post!*

Tech: You do realize they vaccinate us against polio as children, right...?

Helebon: Bwahahahahahaha. My plan is working perfectly!

Ares: Your plan? The destruction of Jupiter was obviously part of my evil schemes!

Helebon: Don't be ridiculous! I'm the main antagonist for this story arc, that makes it part of MY plot of evil!

Voice: *ahem*

Helebon: Oh can it, "master!" We all know you're just a big slate of nobody purposefully left "unknown" until some random writer decides to give you an identity, if they haven't already forgotten about you!

Voice: So what if I'm forgotten? At least I will still be theoretically kicking around plans for ominous doom in my old age! You, on the other hand, are slated for termination at the end of this story arc!

Helebon: Like the writers have any real influence over what happens in NeS! Besides, I've been the only real villian to be kickin' around in NeSquared -- the writers are too lazy to think up new bad guys to replace me, even if I barely have any redeeming qualities as a memorable character!

Ares: Aren't you forgetting someone?

Helebon: The EeP?

Ares: No, you fool! ME! I've been here longer than anyone! I'm obviously here to bump you off and take your place as ruler of the world!

Helebon: Oh please, you're a two-bit hack who got his rear-end handed to him to the Darkside!

Ares: Isn't he your son?

Helebon: Yeah?

Ares: I take that back then -- the DARKSIDE will bump you off! Writers like using family ties as cop-outs for strengthening so-called "character development."

Geb: *off to the side* Don't forget about us heroes!

Ares, Helebon and Voice: ....

The three of them burst out laughing.

Ares: Ahhhh Geb, always there for a good laugh.

Geb: I was being serious...lack of food putting a real crap in my style...

Helebon: Are you complaining again, mortal?

Ares: They do that often.

Helebon: Mmhm.

Geb: Uh.... so none of you guys really planned on blowing up Jupiter, did you?

Ares: ....

Helebon: ...

Voice: ...

Ares: Well, uh, what nonsense are you talking now, mortal? Heh heh.

Helebon: Every act of evil is perfectly pre-conceived...

Geb: Yeah, if you're the Ever-ending Plot, MAYBE! You guys are just trying to make yourselves look more intimidating, aren't you? You'll probably be blaming it on the heroes too, to make them look worse!

Uh... Geb?

Geb: What?

.... nevermind.

Voice: He's on to us!

Ares: Kill him already...

Helebon: No, I still have plans for this "Gebohq."

Ares: Why does that sound like a bad idea?

Helebon: Not killing off the hero when we have the perfect opportunity?

Ares: Yeah.

Helebon: I don't know.

Ares: Hmm.

MEANWHILE, on the Blackguard's ship nearby a space currently lacking Jupiter....

Blackguard: Before I take you to my master, you must know who I really am...

The Blackguard removes his headgear to reveal...

TLTE: No, it can't be...

Dart Wader: YETH! FEAR MEH FER IE YAM DART WADER! And Ie jayrrange yew tew won fiynul dewwwwwwwwl Mithder "Rast Twue Evuhl."

TLTE: What?

MEANWHILE, on the Demonrock...

Miss Fire: Gimme that thing, you flightless bird!

Miss Fire yanks the plot-hole pistol from Pingu's stubby arm-things.

Pingu:

Miss Fire: What the hell? An expiration date? On a gun???

Enchilada Man: What's it say?

Miss Fire: "Plot holes cartridge best used before April 1, 1900"... ?

Wai: Looks like it wasn't Y2K complient.

Pingu: Maybe I shouldn't have fired that...

Is this all one big over-expected joke? Wouldn't you like to know...

CM: You know what, I'm tired of this stupid fighting crap!

TLTE: Whatever do you mean?

CM: Look, we're on sets. I know you guys don't see them, you've been here too long. But I'm a bit newer, and I'm tired of playing along.

CM: You want Losien? HERE! Take her! She's been standing over there for like 5 weeks waiting for you to finally get to her.

Losien: Uhh, this is odd...

CM: And Pingu. A Penguin. ANY PROBLEMS WITH THE HEAT?!

Pingu: No?

CM: OF COURSE NOT. BECAUSE THEY HAVE TO KEEP THIS BLASTED PLACE ICE COLD FOR YOU. Always support the fresh and new (and expensive) actors, as USUAL.

TLTE: I think you're taking it a bit far, I'm not cold...

CM: YOU'RE WEARING A FREAKIN TRENCHCOAT!

TLTE: Well I have a ton of steel, or as you know, my weapons, in there... those aren't exactly insulating.

CM: YOU DON'T HAVE ANY WEAPONS IN THERE, THEY JUST HAND THEM TO YOU AT THE OPPORTUNE MOMENT OFF THE SET!!!!

Wai: Maybe you should try to calm down?

CM: Calm DOWN? You're a clunk of sheet metal tied to some strings to get you to move around! And your voice actor is standing right behind the director!

Wai: What?

Krig: Director? Krig want to see Director!

CM: Stop bloody talking like that! You went to Yale for christ's sake, you even majored in English Lit!

Krig: Krig did no such thing! Krig traveled the atlantic in the viking ship of yore!

CM: I can't take this stupid stuff anymore! You people act as if this is a reality!

TLTE: But CM, it IS real! I have no idea what you are talking about!

CM: If this is reality, then I can blow up the universe with my fire power. Somethnig that doesn't REALLY exist!

TLTE: No, you just can't blow it up because you don't have teh power to do that big of a spell...

CM: Oh yeah, let's FIND OUT.

CM puts his hands together, and focuses extremely hard on the center of the universe. Suddenly, there is a violent explosion, and the universe is toasted to a crisp.

...

...

...

Well, except for Pingu. What's up with that penguin anyway?

[NSP: Due to the fact that I'm going to miss some school next week due to a trip to Germany Neverland Ranch, I will have a lot of work to make up, on top of that my Electronics final project is due in a few weeks, I got a new job, AND I still have to find time to hang out with friends. I am going to have to basically stop writing for The NeS . So, I figured Ahnuld should die or something...lets make it quick]

Back in the sewers or wherever Ahnuld and the gang is, Ahnuld senses something!

Ahnuld: Oh look a gigantic EMP bomb thing that only kills robots!

Ahnuld explodes in the EMP bomb for robots of doom! Killing him...JUST him. Noone else.

About 5 seconds after the CoolMatty-assisted heat death of the universe

Miss Fire:"Um...."

Wai: "I boringly predict your next question is 99% likely to be "Where are we?". On the other 1%, the bread is to your left."

CM: "Are we dead?"

TLTE: "A simple experiment should suffice, comrade."

*SLAP*

CM: "Ow!"

TLTE: "Did you feel that?"

CM: "YES I DID, YOU COMMUNIST CRETIN!"

TLTE: "The subject seems to be responding to minor stimulation. I am now moving to more direct forms of stimulation"

Midvok: "So...."

Miss Fire: "Here we are...."

Wai: "Standing...."

Pingu: "Sitting..."

Wai: "Here we are, sitting.. quite comfortably in the.... "

Pingu: "Five star"

Wai: "....Five star..."

Pingu: "....Restaraunt"

Wai: "You know, that's really irritating"

Pingu: whisperwhisperwhisper*

Wai: "I heard that. Prepare to be a statistic on the extinction graph, bird."

Enchilada Man: "Wait mi amicos. Didn't we all die?"

CM: "Hey! Hey! Stop glaring at me like that!"

Waiter: "*Ahem*"

TLTE: "Yes?"

Waiter: "If sir would care to put down the sledgehammer, I will take sir's order."

TLTE: "Order?"

Waiter: "Indeed."

TLTE: "AT LAST! The recogniiton that has been deined to me for so long! My own groupie!"

Waiter: "Ah-ha. Sir did not perhaps understand me. I meant your order for food."

There was a subsonic rumbling from one side of the table

Wai: "Oh, you had to go and mention food."

Krig: "YOU GOT FOOD, HUH? THEN GIVE IT TO KRIG, NOW!"

Waiter: "If sir will get off me, and allow me to stand up, then I will be happy to take sir's order for food."

Miss Fire: "So, we're not dead?"

Waiter: "*ahem* Ah-ha. Madam is most definatly not dead. Or I would not attempt to serve madam."

Wai: "If we're not dead.... wait a moment... we're in...."

The waiter gave an encouraging nod

-----------------

Elsewhere in the restaraunt[/b]

Ares: "The Restaraunt at the End of the Universe?"

Helebon: "Mmmm.... Cinnabons...."

Dart Wader: "Yeth! Ath youth can thee, when CoolMatty lothth the plot..."

Ares: "Dart, put your helmet back on before we all drown in drool"

Helebon: "Hey waiter! Plate empty! Fill it up!"

Blackguard: "When CoolMatty lost the plot, he broke the Fourth Wall."

Ares: "Well.. so what? That happens on a regular basis."

Blackguard: "Ah, but what they didn't reckon was that it was April the First!"

---------

At the bar

Gebohq: "April the First?"

TheOtter: "Yeah man. Shee. Alla. Alla planets are in alignment. Orsomethingorother. *Haec* When that happens, you got beaaautiful power o' the cosmos all runnin' up and downa planets. Yeah? Kinda like a shupercharged occult dynamo. DYNAMO! Eccept. Eccept Jupiter, it blew up, right? Right? I'm right, aren't I? Sho, everythig got screwed up."

Gebohq: .oO(Oh $Deity). "Go on."

TheOtter: "Sho, the power wasa boiling around. Like lightning, man. It needed shome kinda occult lightning rod to earth isself"

-----------------

At another table in the main dining room

Gebiyl-EeP: "It should have been me! I had the Staff of Tourni! I had the NeSword! If it wasn't for those fools and weaklings who imprisoned me, I would have bathed in the radiant majesty and glory of a Solar system's worth of power.

Gebiyl leaned closer to his guest

Gebiyl-EeP: "And with that power, I would have finally been able to accomplish my purpose. But no. Instead, I was locked away. Frozen with a cheap trick. While that worthless buffoon over there..."

-------------------

Back at CoolMatty's table

CM: "So... you're the dish of the day?"

Keebler Elf: "Sure am!"

CM: "Green salad, please..."

------------------

At the EeP's table

Gebiyl-EeP: "Soaked it all up like a towel. And what did he do with it? Set wrongs to right? Finally end the damn plot? No. Instead, he broke the True Fourth Wall."

Geb's fist cracked down on the table

Gebyil-EeP: "Did you know there are two Fourth Walls? There's the type which we normally break, usually in a humerous manner. Then... there's the other.

Gebyil sat back, smugger than a Cheshire Cat.

"If this universe were a program, then it'd be an shaky beta with more patches than a 40-year old quilt. Did you know, for instance, that a butterfly waving its wings just so on a certain bromilead in the Andes could cause the local reality to collapse and turn the Earth into cheese? This is where the Fourth Wall comes in.

The True Fourth Wall is a barrier of self-deceptive belief that acts as a metphorical scaffold to the known universe. It strengthens our perception of the universe - seeing to it that an apple will fall from the tree, rather than burst into song and get picked as lead for a muscial about Abba. Any problems it patches as they occur, so the universe can keep bobbing along in the shape it prefers to be. And CoolMatty, supercharged as he was with the cosmic power of a Solar System had more than enough juice to brake it."

-------

At Ares's Table

Ares: @.@

Helebon: @.@ *munch*

Blackguard: Wow. If I could bottle that I could make a killing with instant sober-upper. Anyway. When CoolMatty broke the True Fourth Wall, he killed the basic support structure of the universe. At that point, anything could happen. CoolMatty didn't so much as destroy the universe, as.. re-write it.

Ares: @.@

Helebon: *munch munch munch*

Blackguard: So, we're here at the Restaraunt at the End of the Universe, all because of CoolMatty. Now, here's the clever thing. He still has plenty of that cosmic power left.

-------------

Geb-EeP's table

Gebyil-EeP: "And I will make that power MINE. Even if I have to suck it from his bones. Which would be gross. So my dear, this is where you come in. After all... who could resist the charms of dear, sweet, Losien?"

---------------

(NSP: *Translation: Stick it up your diodes, freak face)

*AT THAT MOMENT, IN THE WRITERS' REALM!!!*

The NeS offices. Predictably quiet and dark. Whilst the majority of the writers are living it up in a tropical island getaway, the original patron of the NeS is hunched over a desk, scribbling furiously.

GebohqTW: Dear God, this is a mess of unbelievable proportions...how could an extended April Fool's Joke turn into such an incomprehensible and irretrievable plotline for the story?? It's a total bloody shambles!!

He scrunches up another piece of paper and tosses it over his shoulder. The paper ball falls onto the mountain of its predecessors, tumbling slightly before coming to a rest on a plateau.

GebohqTW: How can I restore cohesion and clarity to this...WRITERS! ANSWER MY CALL!

He stands atop the table and pounds his rather unheroic chest, which booms incongruously throughout the building...yet no one answers. Dejectedly, he jumps off the desk and ambles through the cubicles for a muse.

GebohqTW: Come on, Geb, think...you've experienced rougher writer's blocks than this! You've churned out over fifty pages of passable fiction!

Choking down the instinctual giggle provoked by this comment, he adopts the classic "thinker" pose atop KrigTW's desk.

GebohqTW: There must be an answer....maybe within the text itself?! No, it's all hopeless....it's all just h-

He checks himself, mid-sentence. What GebohqTW has noticed is a conceptual drawing of KrigTW's, obviously just an idle doodle on his pad before leaving for holiday. Nevertheless, the 'doodle' is more or less finished, an elaborate and almost Biblical montage of one of the climatic scenes from the final page of the NeS.

The Arena is depicted, a charred and smoking husk of its former glory. Dead bodies adorn the spectacular Armaggeddon, a grotesque tableau that is compounded by the ominously legion TLTE clones watching on. And at the centre of the piece, majestically drawn, a stoic Gebohq makes his last stand against the possessed and wretched TLTE, the NeSword arcing around to smite him, leaving a trailing ripple in the very fabric of the story it is destined to save.

GebohqTW's eyes focus in on the NeSword, the tool of ultimate wielding in the NeS. It is Gebohq's true power, a symbol of his leadership and dedication to the story, a focal point for his virtue and action.

GebohqTW: Of course...if art imitates life, then cannot life imitate art?!

He rushes back to his desk, knocking over entire cubicle walls as he runs, his face contorted in both anxiety and excitement. When finally he reaches his desk again, his filing cabinet has been rearranged - it now rests on the left side of the cubicle. Genuflecting rapidly, GebTW turns to the cabinet and proclaims with religious zeal-

GebohqTW: I ACCEPT THIS GIFT IN THE NAME OF STORYTELLING!

-before kicking the side of the cabinet's supports and toppling its steel structure directly on top of him.

*IN THE HEROES' REALM!!!*

Gebohq: Sigh.

CM: Oh come on, you know you're just as inept as him.

*BACK IN THE WRITERS' REALM!!!*

Slowly and gingerly, GebTW eases himself out from the wreckage of the filing cabinet. Hundreds of decimated rainforests lie figuratively before him, but amidst the paper a faint blue glow is emanating. GebTW paws at the papers, sending them flying in two streams cartoon-like, before finally reaching the bottom of the pile. His eyes widen in wonderment and delight.

Sitting in front of him on the floor is a sketchpad. At a glance, it appears to be an ordinary, white-paper sort of sketchpad - but then the details start registering in GebTW's mind. The faint blue glow, not unlike the NeSword's own. The infinity symbol, etched on the top of each page. The heading, "...from the desk of the WG..."

GebTW holds the pad to the light and starts flicking the pages. After five minutes of flicking, he realises that he will never get to the final page of the sketchpad, compact though it appears. A small blue pencil with an eraser is hooked into the side of the pad, completing the image.

GebohqTW: As Gebohq the Hero wields the NeSword, so shall Gebohq the Writer wield...the NeSketchpad!

A choir of angels add a heavenly chorus as he lifts the divine writer's tool above his head.

GebohqTW: Thank you...this is all I need. Now, to dig the NeS out of its hole!

He sits down and purposefully writes, "Wait, wait. Scratch that whole last part."

*IN THE HEROES' REALM!!!*

Suddenly, there is a great rumbling in the Restaurant at the End of the Universe. Tables vibrate, plates and glasses tumble off and shatter, and everyone generally looks concerned.

CM: What the devil is going on now??

TLTE: Plot revisions, kid. This is gonna hurt.

*As our cast members huddled together in cliques awaiting the tremors of "Plot Revisions" to subside, 3 figures bearing 2 bodies burst in through the door of the Restaurant at the End of the Universe. Antestarr stumbled through bearing Thrawn42689 across his shoulders, Qhobeg carried Ahnuld as a husband would carry his wife across the threshold, and Young followed behind, taking in the lovely decor.*

Waiter *approaching the new cadre*: I'm sorry, but I'm afraid I will have to ask you all to leave.

Antestarr *dropping Thrawn on a nearby table*: What? We have wounded here and you're turning us away?

Waiter: They are not my concern. What is my concern is that you, sir, are not within our dress code.

Ante: Dress code...

Waiter: Right.

Ante *surveying the restaurant*: You do realize you have a penguin here.

Waiter: He's in a tuxedo.

Ante *pointing at Ares*: And what about Greek boy over there.

Waiter: The god of war is one of our best patrons. He could come in wearing nipple clamps and a thong and we would serve him. He also tips well. In fact, that reminds me of this one time...

Young *tugging on Qhobeg's shirt*: What's a nipple clamp?

Qhobeg: Uhh... you're too young.

Waiter: Anyway, read the sign: No Shirt, No Shoes, No Service.

Ante *looking sidelong at his company*: But we're all wearing shirts and shoes.

Waiter: I'm sorry, sir, but you are wearing sandals.

Ante: Sandals.

Waiter: Right.

Ante: They're freaking sandals! They keep my bare feet from touching your carpet!

Waiter: I don't make the rules, I just kick people out for breaking them. Except for the times that I break people for kicking the rules.

Ante: Hold on just one moment.

*Antestarr went outside and around the building where he found a simple bum. A bum with shoes. Making an even trade of a bottle of Crown for a pair of ratty old bum shoes, Ante made his triumphant return to the interior of the restaurant.*

Waiter: Welcome to The Restaurant at the End of the Universe. Seating for five?

Ante: Actually, we could use medical help. You know, like a doctor. Preferrably a Doctor of Engineering Science.

RAM: I have a doctorate!

Ante: Fine, get over here. We'll start with Ahnuld, as he took the brunt of the blast.

*As Ante, Qhobeg, and the RAM got to work on Ahnuld, Young stepped over to Thrawn42689 and placed her hands on him. A cold blue aura emanated from her into him. After a moment, his eyes opened and he sat up.*

RAM: I'm sorry, there's nothing I can do. His internal components are all kaput.

Qhobeg: Kaput?

RAM: Yes, very scientific term. You wouldn't understand. Say, are those Optic Camoflauge Pants?

Qhobeg: Why yes... yes they are.

RAM: Sweet! I've wanted to check out a pair of these for a while.

*Thrawn hopped off the table and walked over to his fallen comrade. He fell to his knees and began to weep.*

Thrawn: WHAT WILL JELLYBEAN PONY DO WITHOUT YOU?!

*Ante turned away from the inconsolable Thrawn and looked toward Young. She stood next to the table Thrawn had previously been on, a blue aura subsiding into her.*

Ante: Are you responsible for him...?

Young: I merely asked my mother that his flame not be extinguished yet. I did not think it his time.

Ante: I see... How would you like a milkshake? I've gotta take care of some things, so order something nice.

Young: Alright!

*Ante walked over towards Ares, Helebon, and Blackguard, spinning a pair of scissors over around his index finger. *

Helebon: I'm sorry, but I don't think you were invited to our little soiree.

*Without even looking at Helebon, Ante slammed the point of the scissors into Helebon's hand.*

Ante: I'm sorry, but I don't think I was coming over here to talk with you.

Helebon: OWOWOWOWOWOWOW! My hand! There's scissors in my hand!

Ante: Aren't you supposed to be the ruler of hell/earth? Why don't you show a little backbone? To Ares: Can you come with me for a moment? I have a propositon for you.

Blackguard *shaking his head at Helebon*: Wimp.

*Antestarr and Ares slipped into a booth across the restaurant while Blackguard continued to mock Helebon.*

Blackguard: Some major villain you are. I bet you couldn't even handle a shot of tequila!

Helebon: I'll have you know I've been drinking people under the table who were alive before you were born!

Blackguard: Oh, really... WAITER! Two glasses and a bottle of Tequila!

*Back in the booth.*

Ares: ...and that's how we all ended up here.

Ante: So, it was all CoolMatty's fault to begin with...

Ares: Yeah, the fool didn't know his powers are increased on April 1st.

Ante: Hey, didn't you have some time control power?

Ares: Well, I have bent my power into re-writing the past before. But you wouldn't believe the headache it gives me.

Ante: Hmm... would you consider doing it if I could promise you violence?

Ares: Perhaps. Go on.

Ante: I propose you use your power to go back to the moment before CM caused this whole mess and knock him unconscious.

Ares: Ok... do I get weaponry?

Ante *pulling out a black object*: I have this frying pan.

Ares: Is it an Olympic Frying Pan of the Gods?

Ante: Sure.

Ares: And what do I get out of the deal?

Ante: Uh... other than the violence? How about I'll owe you one?

Ares: Owing a favor to a god... Alright, I'll do it. See you later.

*A wreath of fire surrounded Ares as he disappeared from the restaurant. That business done, Ante walked over to the grieving Thrawn.*

Thrawn *looking at Ante*: How did this happen? I mean, the bomb wasn't there before, right?

Ante: This is what happens when good writers turn bad. They toy with us like they own us. You were lucky... if Ahnuld hadn't jumped on the emp bomb, you'd be like him right now.

Thrawn: So, the writers coldly took my companion from me and tried to assasinate me?

Ante: That's one way of looking at it.

Thrawn: Then I suppose we'll have to make them pay.


-------------------------------------

*In a time 4 posts ago.*

TLTE: No, you just can't blow it up because you don't have the power to do that big of a spell...

CM: Oh yeah, let's FIND OUT.

*CM put his hands together, and focused extremely hard on the center of the universe. Suddenly, there was a violent stroke to the back of his head as Ares materialized out of a burst of flame and brought a frying pan down on him.*

Ares: That's for destroying the universe!

*Ares continued bringing the frying pan down on the unconscious mage while making excuses*

Ares: That one's for your silly magic trick. Oh, and this one's for that time you insulted my mom at poker night!

TLTE: Uh, Ares, what are you doing here.

Ares: No, the question is, what are you doing here. You should still be in Blackguard's custody.

*It was at this moment that reality started to right itself. TLTE faded from where he was at and returned to being imprisoned on Blackguard's ship. Ares returned to mocking Gebohq in his cage. Ante and company returned to the sewers of London. Yet there were some things that remained as they were. Ahnuld's life was still extinguished. The planet Jupiter was becoming something new. And a certain villain watched from his now orbitless station floating amongst the newly formed Jovian Dispersion Field.*

Dark Man: It seems Blackguard underestimated the so called heroes and their inane ability to do the impossible yet again. I shall have to chastize him later.

*At that moment, in the sewers of London.*

Ante: Ok, where were we. Ah, right, flying bladed droids of death.

*Looking about, Ante, Qhobeg, Young, and Thrawn noticed that the blade droids were all on the ground, deactivated.*

Ante: Oh, yeah. EMP Bomb.

*In the Restaurant at the End of the Universe, a hazy memory in the minds of those who just had their timeline restored to something slightly more sane, the Waiter hauls a large box addressed "Haunted Hall of Heroes. 8th Dimension."*

Waiter: Honestly, the least they could do is take their broken toys with them. Or leave a tip.

(NSP: Many thanks to Ford for formulating the content of this post.)

Speaking of the Haunted House of Heroes...

Mr. Stafford: Did anyone else just experience something unsettlingly out-of-the-ordinary?

Maybe: Something that could only be described as a bad dream possibly involving the end of the universe?

Mr. Stafford: Yes.

Maybe: Vaguely.

MZZT: These sort of things happen from time to time.

Ford: Focus people! Recounting vital history as we dive down into the foundations of this place and to nasty evil, if I may?

Mimiru: Sorry, please continue.

Ford: Right then...

*Cue cool camera cut into Count Desmond's stronghold*

The year is 1888. Erro 'ohq' Simon II learns of Desmond's plans of the destruction of heaven and earth, of Desmond's true nature as a NeSferatu, and of his ambitions to suck the life (the story) of Erro himself, who is apparently the quinessential vessal of story. King Emp enters and aids Erro in fighting off the guards, but is knocked unconscious, leaving Erro alone with Count Desmond.

Desmond: Just you and me now, Ohq. Are you prepared to face the Devil?

Jim Seven: (hidden in the rafters above) I really wish he'd leave me out of this. I'm just here to watch.

Erro holds ready his whip in one hand and, in the other, levels his cross-shaped sword at Desmond, blood wet on its blade.

Erro: By the power of God, I will send you back to Hell, Count Desmond. Where you belong...

Erro charges, swinging his blade around his head to sever Desmond's own. With a gutteral hiss, Desmond side-steps and takes flight. Erro strikes with his whip and grabs hold of Desmond's ankle, smashing him back onto the floor. Blade held high, Erro charges again, but Desmond pulls himself off the ground with unholy magick and yanks at the whip around his ankle, which Erro is still holding. Thrown off balance, Desmond leaps for Erro, smacks the blade out of Erro's hand and grabs hold of Erro as to make him immobile. Erro grits his teeth in anticipation, his neck exposed... and is forced onto a wall, where Desmond proceeds to shackle him.

Erro: What are you waiting for?

Desmond: Still don't understand, do you Ohq? I am a NeSferatu. I do not feast on mere blood. I must ripen you first.

Erro: Ripen?

Desmond: Tell me, Erro, do you know where your love, Catherine, is?

Erro: What have you done with her? TELL ME!

Desmond: Nothing, dear Ohq... well, ok, I've done some prep work.

Count Desmond pulls out a remote and pushes a button. In all the science-fiction horror of the time, electricity sparks light into a previously dark side of the chamber, where tables of laboratory equipment can now be seen. Lying on a table in the middle is Catherine, her hair now white, and drilled in her temples are what appear to be receptors. She begins to awake.

Catherine: Where... where am I?

Erro: CATHERINE!

Catherine: My love? What's going on?

Desmond: Shhhhh...

Desmond grabs some complicated headgear nearby Catherine and proceeds to clamp it onto Erro's head.

Desmond: I drink not on mere blood, Ohq, but bloodink, the essence of story. Your blood flows through you with many hopes and dreams, with boundless potential, but it lacks the permanency found in bloodink. It lacks the pain that a pen scars on paper. But you are Ohq, and the bloodink can flow through you yet.

Erro: Enough of your nonsense. What science is this foul practice?

Desmond: The headgear? It's for you to truely know the thoughts that run through her mind.

Erro: So much confusion...

Desmond: All will be made painfully clear, soon enough. But there is one last thing I must do before we begin. I must give you... a choice.

Count Desmond then unlocks a nearby safe and brings to light an urn in his hands, with the words "Mother" written on it. Desmond frowns and turns the urn around so that the words can not be seen.

Desmond: Inside this contains the dust of that which once existed. This is no ordinary dust, of course. It carries many stories. Some say it was once dirt from the Garden of Eden, some say it comes from the end of existance, and that the universe started anew afterwards, and some even say it even gave birth to the Darkside, that which wanders the earth to feed on souls. What is known for certain is that it has a will of its own, and it has the potential to grant incredible power to those that wish it, but at the cost of abandoning principles they hold most dear. I myself have contimplated its use, but fear its price and futility, and I'm quite certain you will feel the same. So I pass this on to you now. This choice that will be left before you should ripen you quite well.

Desmond then opens the urn and pours out its contents, which hangs in an eerie manner over Erro. Placing the urn aside, Desmond proceeds to drag Catherine to the alter.

Erro: No...

Erro hears a strange voice... from the dust? From inside his head? It is a passive voice, yet intimidating.

Voice: Yes.

He watches in horror as the Nesferatu stripped Catherine of her clothes. Her screams of pain begin to mix with screams of pleasure. Erro sees Catherine's thoughts as painfully clear as he sees her physical form with his own eyes.

Erro: Why? Oh God, why?

Voice: You can stop all this. Give up your desire to do good, and be given the power to stop Desmond.

Erro: No...

Erro appears to struggle with the shackles, shaking his head in desperation. At the height of Catherine's final yell, there is a sparkling that surrounds Erro, and with unnatural strength, he shatters the shackles. Desmond turns, and Erro throws his hand out. Both are too late, as Count Desmond falls to the floor, lifeless, like a ragdoll. Erro rips off the headgear and grips his forehead in agony, falling to his knees, eventually passing out. Catherine sits up, trying to cover herself with her ripped clothes, but too shocked to do anything else.

Jim Seven rushes from the ceiling onto the floor. Uttering a vile language, he manipulates the dust (which from now on will be refered to as The Dust) back into the urn and seals it shut. Holding the urn, Jim looks at Erro with heavy thought, then perks his head to the doorway before abruptly dissapearing. The League of Heroes rush in to find a dead Desmond, an unconscious King Emp and Erro, and a shocked Catherine.

*Cue fade back to the present day heroes.*

Sub: Did you have to recount it so vividly?

Ford: Yes. It was vital that you all understood the danger we face.

Mustang: After I had discovered what had happened from mind-reading, Jim and I locked it away, deep underground here, in hopes of it never appearing again.

Ford: But now The Dust collects its strength in the deepest depth of the foundations of this haunted house, threatening to break free. It might already be loose.

Maybe: But about Catherine... what happened with her?

Ford: ...

Maybe: There's something you're leaving out, isn't there?

Ford: I--

MZZT: LOOK OUT!

The heroes (and Mr. Stafford) turn to face something monsterous in their trek through the creepy complex below the Hall of Heroes. But what? And what is it that Ford is not telling? Find out in a future installment of The Never-ending Stort Thread Squared!

(NSN: To read a more complete and revised rendition of the tales of Erro and the League of Heroes, check out Highemperor's NeS 1888!)

(NSP: Part 1 of my expository post. I'm trying to move mountains of plot here, so bear with me.)

*ELSEWHERE, IN THE GALAXY!!!*

TLTE's thoughts and dreams slowly galvanise into consciousness. His last memory - the miserable yet sadistic face of the Blackguard, looming above him after a savage beating. There had been no warning of the agonising experience: after appearing to land his spacecraft, the Blackguard had stood, turned to the shackled spy and laid into him for fully ten minutes. Slowly, TLTE remembers...

Blackguard: Why are you silent?

Through clenched teeth stained with blood, TLTE snarls at his tormentor. The Blackguard smiles, but it is a hollow smile and not a satisfied expression.

Blackguard: Will you not speak? Will you not scream for mercy, or justice? Or both?

TLTE: I have no words for the dead.

-and then a hand rushes sudddenly, violently at his head, and then there is nothing at all.

And then there is her.

TLTE: I...

Losien is there, before him. She is exactly as TLTE remembers on their last day together, the day he died to protect her. Her eyes sparkle with the same sadness, and her long hair flows vivaciously over her shoulders: but there is something distant about her, and she turns slightly from TLTE's hunched form.

TLTE: I've searched so long for you! I've travelled so far, with so many people...all for you...

He tries to take a step forward, but he cannot. He can only watch as she turns away completely, fading already into the recesses of his mind.

TLTE: NO! Must I always be so close? Must I always clutch at the memory of love?!

Arkng Thand: Obsession. Strange, isn't it...

TLTE half-turns to see the venerable philosopher/scientist of the NeS behind him, reclining on his favourite chair, pipe in mouth, reading a book as he always is. The title of this one is Heart of Darkness, by Joseph Conrad.

TLTE: ...Thand? Arkng Thand? Where are we?

Thand: Obsession is the vice of many a literary character, useful in both strengthening their personal exposition while moving the plot of the story along. The NeS, however, has been curiously lacking in this aspect...many of its titular heroes, certainly, adopted apathy as a virtue early in the text and have followed its tenets to this very day. The villains, though...

He releases a puff of blue smoke, his eyes shining in admiration.

Thand: The NeS villains are an obsessive bunch, aren't they? The Darkside....Bill Gates...the Ever-Ending Plot...aren't these beings worthy of respect for their conviction, if nothing else? Their irresistable pursuit of conceived objectives, no matter how immoral or dangerous, is a trait that all should emulate...as you yourself have emulated for so long.

TLTE: What...what do you mean?

Thand: Well, in the original NeS, you were an enemy of the people: a villain, if you will, and as good (or bad) as any of them. Though you claim to reformation...absolvation, if you pardon the now-tasteless pun...your pursuit of Losien carries the same zeal and fervour that you used to persecute the innocent and pure back in your...'mad days'...

He flicks to a page of the book and throws it to TLTE. Kurtz's immortal quote is emboldened against the margin: "The horror, the horror...".

Thand: But what is the ultimate price of conviction? What penalty must we pay for single-minded purpose? You have ridden the crest of a very high wave, Spymaster - it has carried you over many insurmountable obstacles and ruthless enemies. As you reach the end of your quest, will you be able to continue?

He leans back into the smoke, clutching his pipe.

Thand: Or will you fall all the way back down?

As he says these words, the darkness surrounding TLTE's vision begins to clear. His thoughts and perceptions begin to catch up with him as he rises from the floor: he is in a circular chamber, dimly lit, an industrial design of functionality rather than aesthetics.

The centrepiece of the room - a huge block of ice, as though a magnificent sculpture...and inside it-

TLTE: Losien!

He rushes to the ice, his eyes wide with mingled relief and joy. Placing his hands on the glass, TLTE feels for a way to somehow open Losien's ice casing and remove her from her enclosure. His eyes never leave her beautiful expression, her eyes shut, her face peaceful-

Voice: To me, she is perfect.

TLTE spins around, his hand rapidly descending inside - and then reality dawns on him. His coat and ammunition belt have been long confiscated. Squinting heavily, he can just see a figure on the edge of the chamber, walking around the edge of the marginal light.

TLTE: At last, at the end of all things, we meet. You who have stolen my love from me for so long...Who are you?

Voice: I'm you. Split down the middle.

TLTE: ....The Last True Evil the Serial Womaniser?! Weren't you killed on page 51 with all the other clones???

The Dark Man laughs. It is not a characteristic raspy villain chuckle - it is friendly, almost amiable...until he screams in apparent rage and smashes a dark fist against the industrial panelling, bending it severely.

Dark Man: No...no tovarish, the clones are indeed all dead. Though I might as well be a carbon copy of your evil self, for it is all I have become since our last meeting.

TLTE: Do I know you?

Dark Man: All too well.

He laughs a little more, that indulgent, dangerous laugh.

Dark Man: I have been with you for your entire story arc...I watched you burst into this world on page 21 with all of your bravado and fool's courage. I saw you fall into evil...or rather, embrace what evil you already held in your heart. I saw your countless schemes, your endless battles against the forces of righteousness, whilst all the while the bitter loneliness in your heart grew...and grew...and grew...

TLTE: Stop it!

He turns around, facing away from his tormentor, but suddenly there is a sharp gust of wind in the room, and what appear to be dozens of black pieces of paper swirl past TLTE to the other end of the room and coalesce into the figure of the Dark Man.

TLTE: My God....

Dark Man: I saw you fall in love, and die for love, and move past these obstacles as though they were mere trifles for a man of your stature! I watched from afar as you championed the cause of the heroes, dying again for the good of the world itself...I see you every day! I close my eyes and you are burnt into my skull! I live and breathe in your shadow, the shadow of your existence...but NO MORE!

He extends one arm into the light, and it bursts into a swirling mass of jet-black paper, surrounding TLTE, forcing him to his knees.

TLTE: What...who are you?!

Dark Man: Why TLTE, how rude...how can you forget the best friend you ever had?

And then the Dark Man steps into the light.

o/' B.U.M.P.-a-da-B.U.M.P.-a-da-B.U.M.P.-B.U.M.P.-B.U.M.P.!

B.U.M.P.-a-da-B.U.M.P.-a-da-B.U.M.P.-B.U.M.P.-B.U.M.P.!

B.U.M.P.-a-da-B.U.M.P.-a-da-B.U.M.P.-B.U.M.P.-B.U.M.P.!

Ba-da-BAAAAAAAA-ba-da-B.U.M.P.-B.U.M.P.-B.U.M.P.! o/'

(NSP: Yeah, I need to find someone else to do BUMPs... :p)

His face is alien, yet familiar, instantly familiar, to The Last True Evil. He is not a nightmarish monster, nor a lunatic, nor a murderer, nor a psychotic, nor any of the villains the Russian spy has faced during his time in the NeS...and yet somehow he is worse than all of these put together.

He is a hero of the NeS.

TLTE: I don't...I don't believe it...

And then one of the black sheets of paper swirling around TLTE smacks into his hand. Clutching it instinctively, he looks down at it to see it change before his very eyes, morphing into what appears to be a transcript of the original NeS thread. The transcript is of page 21, and highlighted in red is the quote that the Dark Man now reads aloud:

Dark Man: "Enter the intrepid Michael MacFarlane."

And it is appropriate, for Michael MacFarlane is standing before TLTE now...the Dark Man, the architect of TLTE's downfalll, the master of the Blackguard, the captor of Losien and the final obstacle in the quest to save her.

TLTE: ...Michael?

Michael: Or Mick McLongname, as I used to be called...it falls to your preference, really.

TLTE: You did this? You are the cause of all this suffering?

Michael: You sound confused, TLTE...as I once was. "Alright, what's going on in the story right now? Give me the Cliff's Notes version..."

TLTE rises to his feet, staring in disbelief at the man facing him. Plot points fall neatly into place in his head, but still he cannot bear to face the ugly reality of it all...

TLTE: But - but you're a hero! A champion of the NeS! You're a good guy!

Michael: Was.

He comes at TLTE so fast he is a blur, striking him with incredible force. TLTE spirals across the room, slamming into its circular perimeter and falling roughly to the ground. As chunks of the wall rain down on him, he struggles to raise his head to the wraith-like figure above him.

Michael: Our roles have reversed, my old companion. As you were once a figure of evil, a plague of the NeS and its constituents, I was once a great man, loved by Losien and my peers. LOVED!

He grabs TLTE, pulls him roughly to his feet, and begins to choke him. TLTE grabs at the hands encircling his throat, but he cannot find purchase - it is as though Michael is as tangible yet insubstantial as the jet-black NeS paper he covets.

Michael: And now look at me! LOOK! I am a wretched figure, betrayed, left to die by the both of you...you and Losien have abandoned me! DAMN YOU! I WILL NOT BE LEFT BEHIND!

Michael tosses TLTE away, and the Spymaster only just pulls his body into a combat roll, gasping for breath as he does so. He rises quickly to his feet, for his antagonist is stalking towards him again...

!IN THE WRITERS' REALM!

The few remaining writers who are not drawing on their pension to get riotously drunk down the road have called a crisis meeting in Gebohq the Writer's cubicle.

Tony the Writer: Good God, are you guys reading this? Who is this Michael guy?! He's killing TLTE!

GebohqTW: Michael MacFarlane was a hero of the NeS...he joined the story on page 21, the same page as TLTE's entrance. Both of them were instantly enamoured by my sister Losien, the 'belle' of the NeS. But Losien fell for Michael's humble goodness rather than TLTE's extravagant Cold War rhetoric, and this drove the latter to a systematic campaign of violence and world conquest that was primarily aimed at the eradication of his rival.

Cool MattyTW: Gadzooks! But Michael was the hero of this piece?

GebohqTW: Indeed he was. In fact, many of TLTE's nefarious schemes - schemes which otherwise may have annihlated the NeS heroes - were foiled at the last moment by the valiant MacFarlane. He built his heroic star on the ashes of TLTE's vanquished plots.

TonyTW: Then where the Hell has he been? And what the Hell is he doing back?!

GebohqTW: I don't know, Tony, that's the problem...Michael's writer left us a long time ago. Somehow his character is being written into the NeS...but who is doing it??

!IN THE HEROES' REALM!

TLTE drops to the floor, battered and exhausted. The room is devastated by the marks of one-way battle - though Michael is himself showing signs of fatigue, he has emerged unscathed through the engagement with his old foe. Only the exquisite frozen image of Losien in the centre of the room is left pure in the fractured scene. Michael pauses and gazes at her with a look of unmistakeable adoration.

Michael: She's gorgeous, perfect...neither of us deserve her, really. But I will look after her - I will love her - with a devotion that you could never find beyond your own selfish motives.

Painfully, TLTE pulls himself up to his elbows.

TLTE: What...are you talking about?

Michael: Did you ever once wonder where I had gone, TLTE? Was it not strange that I had disappeared suddenly, without a trace, mentioned only in superficial passing by the posts of unconcerned writers?

TLTE: What happened to you?

Michael: It's simple, really. I lost my writer.

He sits down, his back resting on Losien's ice chamber, his eyes strangely unfocused.

Michael: He is gone from me, has been gone for some time now. I can no longer feel a guiding hand on my movements, compelling me towards the greater machinations of the plot. There was no greater meaning to my actions...things were irrelevant, hazy, blurred around the edges...

TLTE: Where did he go?

Michael: Ha! One might as well ask of the gods they pray to where they are when things go wrong...and one would likely get the same answer I did. Do you know how it feels, TLTE? It is....it is as if you develop a new capacity for hearing - suddenly, where there once was a pleasant hum that you relied upon, there is nothing. Nothing but an empty void of silence that extends to oblivion....

He looks down at himself, tears misting his eyes. TLTE notices - for the first time, really - that Michael still wears the faded clothes of his earlier NeS days.

TLTE: Michael, many of the heroes of the NeS lost their writers long ago. It's a fallacy of the story itself.

Michael: I know, but...I'm not sure, TLTE. I think what I've become is a result of something else entirely. I call it an Ultimate Convention.

TLTE: What?

Michael: An Ultimate Convention...a kind of foundation, an absolute rule of the NeS that we all have to adhere to. Think about it, what are some of the fundamental principles of this world? Like conflict - there must always be conflict in the NeS.

TLTE: No, that's not true...we fight for an end to the violence! We fight for the day when peace is embraced by all!

Michael laughs, chuckling in that humbly amused way that used to be so endearing to his friends.

Michael: Wrong. There will be no end to the violence. The NeS heroes will fight vainly for their entire lives, dedicating themselves to an eternal struggle...because to do otherwise would be to endanger an Ultimate Convention, and therefore endanger the fabric of the story itself.

TLTE: What are you getting at? What's your point?

Michael: You and I, TLTE, have become an Ultimate Convention in our own right. We must fight for her love...one of us the hero, one the villain. We are as much slaves to it as we are to the air we breathe. It is, in a way, our destiny.

TLTE: That's impossible...ludicrous!

Michael: Is it not more ludicrous that I have returned to you after so many pages, a vengeful ghost of your past? That I have brought Losien here, having taken her from the dead hands of your clones on the final page of the original NeS? Compared to our current circumstances, TLTE, what I am suggesting is almost logical!

TLTE searches for words, but wracked with pain and still shocked at the reappearance of Michael, he is silent. Finally, he changes tack.

TLTE: What are you suggesting? We have to fight each other forever to keep the NeS stable?

Michael: No.

Michael shakes his head sadly...and yet TLTE can sense his malice rushing back into him, a kind of madness rising unbidden in his mind, like a curse, a disease with no cure.

Michael: No, I believe there is a sense of resolution we can bring to our situation. One of us needs to win.

TLTE: But you vanquished me dozens of times in the NeS! You beat me again and again!

Michael: True...but I never killed you.

He rises slowly, his temporary clarity replaced with the same irrationality TLTE is quickly becoming accustomed to.

Michael: Although convention has forced me into this villain's role, I will rise victorious...I will kill you, in single combat. I will strike you down, and as the life drains from you I will revive Losien and we will leave the NeS. We will transcend this world, this poisoned world we now inhabit...and you and I will finally be free.

He kneels down beside TLTE, grinning insanely.

Michael: Don't you understand, TLTE? We'll be free! All three of us!

TLTE: Michael...please. You need help. We can help you, we can find you a writer...but don't do this!

Michael's grinning face starts to hideously change. He glares at TLTE in anger and suspicion.

Michael: Oh yes, "friend"...with one hand you would reach out to help me, while bringing around the knife in your other to destroy me! You can't fool me - YOU CAN'T HAVE HER!

TLTE prepares for another beating, but Michael jumps backwards instead, his hands grasping at Losien's ice container. He stares back at TLTE, an almost childish jealousy in his features.

Michael: Because this is what we both really want, isn't it? That's what this is all about - her. Well, when I kill you, she'll be with me forever. You'll never see her again!

TLTE: But Michael - the Ultimate Convention - what-

Michael: ENOUGH!

Suddenly, TLTE is being pulled up by the Blackguard. Michael runs a hand through his hair, looking dangerously at him.

Michael: You're finished, comrade. The friends you brought with you are dead or scattered, the self-serving remainder of the NeS crew will never come to get you, and his Highness Gebohq is himself a prisoner on Earth.

TLTE: Michael....

Michael: Throw him downstairs. I'll come get him when the final preparations are made.

He turns around as TLTE and the Blackguard leave. Michael looks down at his hand, which shimmers as a black piece of paper appears and morphs into the NeS transcript again. He reads a piece of page 21 quietly to himself.

Michael: "Here, Michael. You're new, I'm new: we'll work together for a bit..."

He looks at the paper a moment longer, then rips it to pieces and throws it away.

In what was once the tower that held Big Ben and the former Hall of Heroes now stands Helebon's citadel. And in the depths of that citadel, Helebon approaches Gebohq once more. Helebon peers through the cell bars at the dirty, thinning wielder of NeS, and Geb in return looks at Helebon with weak eyes.

Geb: Hello again.

Helebon spits at Gebohq. Geb flinches in reflex.

Helebon: Still chipper as ever, I see. Well, no matter. The time for talk is at an end.

Geb: That's a relief... I was running out of things to talk about...

Helebon unlocks the cell door and advances at Gebohq, who gives no resistance as Helebon drags him by the arm out and down hallways.

Helebon: Tell me, are you aware of the significance of bloodink?

Geb: N--.... wait, I think... Highemperor said something about it to me. Something about stories...

Helebon: Suffice to say, all you need to know is that it carries a lot of power, and there can be bloodink found in you, NeS wielder. I intend to have that power.

Helebon pierces Gebohq's wrist with a sharp fingernail, and blood leaks from the superficial wound.

Geb: You won't get away with this...

Helebon: Are you talking about Ares? Did you hear him barging through my citadel? He has no interest in you. What "fighting" spirit you had has long since gone, and I gave him enough distractions for him to fight and stay out of my way for quite some time. As for your friends... well, they're not looking for you. They think you're dead. They may try and challange me, but it will be too little too late. You are weak, the NeS is weak... and I have you both in grip.

Geb: You have nothing in your hands... it's not too late, change your--

Helebon backhands Gebohq onto the floor, and the floor receives him with concrete force. He drags Gebohq off the floor and continues up the heights of the Citadel...

As the heroes looked upon the next threat they faced, Mr. Stafford stopped for a moment to ponder the story just told, spending some time focusing on the naked Catherine, but mostly on this power-dust stuff.

See, he realises that it isn't washing powder, he also realises that people get awesome power from it, if they give up their most dear principles.

At this point Mr. Stafford realises that he has no principles, and smirks with glee.

Ah yes, this creature-esque affair that is currently spooking these jovial persons.

MZZT: THATBEABIGDAMNTHINGY!

Ford: Quite, although it looks a bit silly with that sparrows hea.....

Mr. Stafford: Try being quiet and actually killing the thing for a moment, just an idea.

The group quickly assess the threat... this strange beast slowly approaching them is like nothing they have ever seen (well, almost). With a giant Sparrows head, a slightly large Mongoose body and robotic feet that looked like they were taken right from a Frankenstein story.

Mr. Stafford: I know these things, see the trick is to.....

Maybe: Do wha?...

MZZT: CHARGGGGGGGGGE!!!!

Ford, Mimiru, Maybe & MZZT all charge, and quickly get knocked back by the lightning quick reactions of creature.

Mr. Stafford: If you just listened to me for a second, please do me a quick favour and run circles around this creature to draw its attention for one moment.

Maybe: Why?

Mr. Stafford: Stop with the damn interrogation and just do it, crapdammit!

The four heroes start sprinting around the strange creature as quickly as possible, trying to avoid its attacks, as Mr. Stafford delves inside his briefcase.

Mimiru: Hey, ever see Pulp Fiction? How come his case is kinda glowing, I don't trust that guy.

Mr. Stafford: SHUT THE HELL UP AND CONCENTRATE ON THE TASK AT HAND IF YOU DON'T WANNA END UP A FRIED LUMP OF CRAP ON THE BOTTOM OF THIS THINGS ROBOTIC TOENAIL!

Mimiru: Ok, Ok, there's no need to shou.....

Mr. Stafford: NOW!!!

The heroes continue to run, trying to confuse the creature, at this point Mr. Stafford pulls a brown mask out from his briefcase. He dons the mask and instantly the place goes deathly silent everyone is stuck to the floor, incapable of running, the monster also stopped in its offensive passtimes for a while as all of the paralysed folks attention went to Mr. Stafford as he slowly approached the monster.

Mr. Stafford: WANNA BUY SOME WEASELS?

His voice sounded gruff and crude, not like his usual speaking tone.

Mr. Stafford: WANNA BUY SOME WEASELS?

The monster looked confused, it shook its sparrow head in bemusement.

Mr. Stafford: BUY A WEASEL I NEED THE MONEY!

Suddenly the monster started screaming, not a threatening scream you would expect in the heat of combat, but the scream of a rabbit as it goes under a car tyre. Its eyes popped out of its sockets and as if it seemed perfectly normal, thousands of weasels came sprinting out of its every orifice (yes, all of them, the heroes had never seen anything with no eyeballs streaming with tears as much as this creature). The weasels were screaming with delight as the creature groaned, upturned and died.

Ford: Is it dead?

Mr. Stafford: Wait.

The weasels suddenly began giggling like hyenas, jumping up and down on the creatures belly, the giant behemoth of a freak monster looked like a tornado of brown scurrying squeaky rodents.

One of them exploded.

Yes, it exploded, quite a nasty explosion, as it set off a chain reaction, every weasel exploding that was touched by an explosion, this was a rather loud process, as the heroes were not impressed, with their ears covered.

When this process was over, the room was covered in about 3 inches of black soot, everyones ears were ringing, and where once there was a disgusting creature, all that remained was a small well done chicken leg.

Mr. Stafford: Yum!

Mr. Stafford went on to eat the chicken leg as his bemused comanions stood i confusement.

MZZT: This guy is very weird indeed....

Darkness swirls apon darkness. Small edies and currents of shadow drift across the midnight landscape. 1337 is quiet now, having fully settled after it previous trauma. After a little bit, a small shimmer in the darkness notes the arrival of a presence. The dark clouds part to reveal the long haired form of Bhac, apparently lost in thought. He mumbles slightly.

Bhac: Maybechild... TLTE.. that blasted thrawnbot... what can be done?... that pesky Mayaal will block anything overt... does it have to be overt?... would he block something small, something in full sight of the heroes?... perhaps it is time... yes, i think it is... it will take much, but it must be done... maybechild...

He stares at his hands for a second, then closes his eyes. He starts to change, his clothes becoming whiter and his features younger. But the changes start to slow down. His face starts to show signs of pain.

Bhac: This form... resists me... why?... i must use it... it is time again... it must be done!

He drops to his knees in evident pain. A shudder runs down his body, and then his head lifts. A bloodcurdling scream is released, then a burst of light, and then nothing. The shadows of 1337 swirl again, once more undisturbed.

(NSP: ok, i give everyone permission to hit me very hard if i ever miss that much NeS again. but anyway, i'm back, so watch out! Oh, and that strange stuff below is supposed to be russian, but the boards don't support it, i guess. If anyone knows how tog et it to do it that would be cool.)

In a space station that until just recently orbited the planet jupiter, a figure stirred. The clink of metal was heard as a slightly lumpy trenchcoat shifted with its owner's painful awakening.

TLTE: Áîã, êîòîð ýòî óøèáàåò! Why does blackgaurd insist on beating me? His master gave him no such orders, he jsut seems to enjoy causing me pain. As if i had done something to him...

After a bit mroe painful shifting, TLTE manages to find a half-empty bottle of Vodka in his trench. He takes a greedy gulp.

TLTE: Ah.. at least i have this for a painkiller. Nothing better then 180 proof russian vodka.

With this reviving drink, TLTE manages to pull himself together enough to get up and take a short walk around his cell. As previously stated, it is dank and dark.

Random Voice: Tsk Tsk Tsk. You'd think they could at least give you some light or something. Its no good to lock up your prisoners if they can't see what a sorry state their in.

TLTE: What? Who are you? I've had it up to here with masked villains!

RV: Wow, sheesh. i'd have thought it would have cheered you up to hear a friendly voice, but i guess not. Maybe i should just leave...

TLTE: No, wait! i do remember that voice... but, shouldn't you be dead? And what in the name of the KGB are you doing here?

RV: WEll, tis a very long story, actually. Well, no, its was very short if you count only the recent stuff that physically led to it, but if you want the pyschological side, it'll take alot longer.

TLTE: ...

RV: Ok, ok. The short version. See, the thing is, while you rushed into the dreamstate, JKtW and I just missed it, so while you were in there i've had time to study and get my magic in order, too. I came here because frankly, Mikey over there pays well for experienced scientists. But since i found you here, i thought it might be a bit better to come and save you. He gets annoying, you know, what with the random destruction of control panels. And yes, you were right, I am... Qwerty!

The random voice finally has a body as the longer-haired and older looking but otherwise recognizable Qwerty stepped into one of the few lights around. But wait, he is supposed to be dead! I'm sure it was back here, let me just check this script her.... wait, you still have the narrator-hurting-weapon-thing from when you fist got here, don't you?

Qwerty: *Nod*

Um, righty-O, anyway, yes, he's back, no explaination needed, all well and good.

Qwerty: That's better. Now, TLTE, it looks like you need some help there. as you're one-time protégé, i think i owe you a bit of help, yes?

TLTE: Ja!

And so Qwerty mysteriously appears on the space station just in time to help TLTE! What luck! I've not written for so long, i think i may have lost the knack! Not Good! Maybe i should jsut end this before i do something stupid! Awesome!

Qwerty watches on with a thin, expectant smile as TLTE rifles through his trenchcoat, which is looking decidedly less weighty than usual. The Russian spy sighs, then shrugs helplessly.

TLTE: Without my firearms and sabre, I'm no more useful than....well, any of the other NeS heroes, really. We're a pretty useless bunch.

Qwerty: True enough, comrade. But fear not: as I said, I've had time to get my magic into ship shape. Plot-holius majorus!!!

A vortex swirls into existence in the darkened cell and drops a lot of weapons onto the floor. A LOT of weapons. TLTE drops down and begins to fill his coat. Half an hour later, the pile is gone, and he stands again.

TLTE: Well, it's not nearly up to my normal stock, but I have my sabre back at least. This should be enough to defeat the Blackguard and Michael. If they can be defeated at all, that is....

Qwerty: I'm afraid we have a...larger problem than that, my friend...

TLTE: Go on....

Qwerty: Oooh...you're not going to like this! It's very very bad! Can't we just run for an escape pod and head for Earth??

TLTE: Qwerty, what kind of people would we be if we left Losien here and fled the scene?

Qwerty: The same people - but alive!

TLTE fixes him with 'The Glare'. Qwerty wisely backs down.

Qwerty: Fine...I'll show you. Visualis!

Suddenly, in a strange display of the arcane and technology, a 3-dimensional projection of the space station appears in front of them. Conjured by Qwerty's inexplicable magicks, the station looms before them, a twisted spiral of metal and hate.

Then before their eyes the image grows transparent, and the inner workings of the station are laid bare. Overall, the base is a structure of 10 levels. The projection zooms in to reveal a side-on image of TLTE and Qwerty in their cell - they appear to be on the second level. Suddenly, the image flies out again, and arcs downward to the first level, zipping through the ominously empty hangar past a number of corridors to reveal Losien's ice chamber. Michael still stands there, staring almost greedily at her.

TLTE: I still cannot believe it. Michael, what have you done?

Qwerty: It's not completely his fault, you know. He has become the first NeShade.

TLTE: What? What is that?

Qwerty: It's difficult to explain, TLTE. I've done a lot of reading and studying in my down time, but this one eludes even me. In fact, the concept was explained to me by someone else.

TLTE: Who?

Qwerty: I...don't remember.

He looks away, but TLTE lets the point slide for now, eager to find out more about his old friend's fate.

Qwerty: ...but in paraphrasing what was told to me, the combination of a writerless existence and a dangerously unfulfilled obsession has already killed Michael MacFarlane. Or at least, the part of him that connects him properly, cohesively, to the plotfractal.

TLTE: Yes...yes, that makes sense! He seemed disjointed in conversation, as if he wasn't really all there: or maybe he was, but some core part of his psyche was being suppressed.

He pauses, remembering the horrors of the confrontation/

TLTE: I can't explain something else, though. Michael seemed to manifest in...paper. As if he was taking the form of the pages of the NeS, or as if-

Qwerty: As if he was formed - literally composed - by the pages of the NeS.

TLTE: The only other place I've seen that is in Erik. But Erik was the avatar of the story itself!

Qwerty: Well, it stands to reason. I mean, you have to understand that Michael is no longer a character composed by a writer and fed into the plot. He is the plot itself, a lingering form of a story long penned yet unfinished. It makes sense that he is using some of the physical powers of an embodiment of the NeS.

TLTE: Then can he be killed like a character of the NeS? Can he be killed at all?

Qwerty: Do you really want to kill him?

Before TLTE can answer, the image of Michael in Qwerty's magical projection stalks over to the wall and presses on a small control panel. The small circular platform underneath Losien's ice container shakes, then begins to slowly rise upward through the roof. The image expands to show its passage upward, all the way to the top level of the space station.

TLTE: That's where I'm going.

Qwerty: You're going to have to fight your way through every unwanted character of the NeS.

TLTE: Who said what to the where now?

Qwerty's eyes glint with mad appreciation of a good plot.

Qwerty: It's Michael's revenge on the NeS heroes that abandoned him: his final present to this thread before he elopes with Losien to the next. He and the Blackguard have spent the last 30 or 40 pages of NeS-time privately assembling and contracting every underused good guy, every forgotten villain, every second-stringer, every nobody that this thread has ever seen. This space station is literally packed to the rafters with unwanted NeS characters - and they are all ready to die, since they all figuratively did when they were forgotten.

True to his words, the projected image pans slowly down the length of the station, revealing a rogue's gallery of colourful and grotesque misfits. TLTE recognises many of them vaguely. Most of them are very dangerous: all of them seem very, very angry.

TLTE: By Trotsky's moustache...and you helped him? You were one of the scientists that made this all POSSIBLE?!

Qwerty: I've just been outfitting them with heavy weaponry, bringing them in from all corners of the NeS universe...you know. Clerical stuff.

The image flashes out of existence. TLTE turns to the wall for a long time, gathering his focus, setting his willpower for the task ahead. Then he turns back to Qwerty.

TLTE: Once again, tovarish, you and I are working together. First of all, I need you to send a message to all the NeS heroes.

Qwerty: Including the ones on Earth?

TLTE: Da. Every single carbon-based or synthetic life form that has worked for the forces of good must be told about this. Send them all the co-ordinates and tell them I need their help.

Qwerty: What then?

TLTE: Join up with me. I'll need your help to identify the structural weaknesses in this station. We need to destroy the entire construction, and everything in it.

Qwerty: It's going to take a while to do that..

TLTE: -which is why hopefully we'll have some helping hands here soon.

He strides across to the cell door, pulls out a ludicrously massive gun and blows it into component atoms.

Qwerty: Where are you going now?

TLTE gives him a sad glance over his shoulder, then starts walking down the corridor.

Space. Dark, black, silent. Filled with twinkly little stars. Also filled with a giant debris field that stretches for as far as the eye can see. No, it's not just any debris field. It's the remains of Jupiter, expanding through space like some giant expanding... thing.

Through the inky blackness of space, dodging space-rocks left and right, flies what appears to be a giant metal duck with rockets on the back. Ironically, it is not in fact a giant metal duck with rockets on the back, but merely a spaceship fashioned to look like a giant metal duck with rockets on the back. A stolen spaceship fashioned to look like a giant metal duck with rockets on the back, at that.

CM: Watch out for that rock!

Enchilada Man: I see it, señor!

Wai: You know, I had always imagined outer space with a lot less rocks.

Miss Fire: That's a misconception. Space is pretty much one big dangerous asteroid field.

Pingu: Hey guys, um, are you sure those ropes are secure? The little viking keeps growling at me, and I think he's trying to chew through his restraints...

Miss Fire: Don't worry, that's just the Space Madness again. He won't be going anywhere. I learned rope-tying in the Girl Scouts.

Krig: Grrrg! Krig... eat... funny turkey!

Pingu: For the last time, I am a penguin, not a turkey!

Krig: Hahaha! Funny turkey is talking! Hahaha! Eeee...

Krig starts singing a badly off-key Norse ballad.

CM: Why couldn't we have stolen that other ship? This one has less room than Samus's ship!

Pingu: It was important that you take this ship. I cannot be more specific.

CM: Some oracle you are.

Wai: Actually, he sounds pretty much like every oracle I've ever met. They're a vague bunch.

CM: When have you ever met an oracle?

Wai: Well, last week I met an Aztec sorcerer who communicated with Quetzecoatl by eating hallucinogenic mushrooms...

CM: Last week? We were trapped in the 8th dimension! How did you find an Aztec sorcerer in the 8th dimension?

Wai: I dunno. I was looking for a power outlet and I ran into him outside a 7-11.

Enchilada Man: Look, señors, there it is!

CM: There what is?

Enchilada Man: The Jupiter Space Station! It somehow survived the explosion of Jupiter!

Wai: How convenient...

CM: So... do we just knock on their door, or what?

Meanwhile, on the Jupiter Space Station...

Qwerty/Bhac: Come in, Heroes, do you read me? I am sending this transmission to you by way of... hello? Hello? Blasted radio isn't working. Must be -- wait. You!

From the shadows on the other side of the room steps a figure dressed in white, weilding a staff and a gun. He confronts Qwerty with the gun.

Mayaal: I don't know what you're up to, Bhac, but I can't let it continue.

Bhac: What are you talking about? I'm just helping out an old friend!

Mayaal: I'm not that naive, my nemesis. You always have an ulterior motive.

Bhac: Don't be silly. We both have part of he who was Qwerty in us. We both know that TLTE deserves our help.

Mayaal: Be that as it may, I won't let you get away with whatever you're planning. There's no sense in us fighting over it -- we both know there can be no victor.

Bhac: No, you're right -- look out behind you!

Mayaal: Do you take me for a fool? I'll not fall for that one so easi -- wait, what's that?

There is a might **CRASH!**, and a spaceship fashioned to look like a giant metal duck with rockets on the back smashes through the side of the space station! A hatch slides open, and a small gaggle of Heroes pours forth!

CM: Behold! The mighty Heroes of NeS have arrived!

But he speaks to an empty room...

Level 2.

The serene elevator doors are blown (quite unnecessarily) to pieces, and out from the wreckage leaps The Last True Evil. His eyes glint with the certainty of impending carnage, and his grip on his bazooka tightens.

TLTE: MICHAEL!

TLTE's former companion stands tall before him, smiling his gently humorous smile. The seething mob of ferociously armed people behind him - at least 150 in total - clash somewhat with his amicable features.

Michael: Ha! Qwerty betrayed me much faster than I imagined. Hardly worth the ridiculous sums of cash I threw at him: and yet, he has helped me to seal your fate. That is enough.

TLTE: Where did you get the money for this operation?? The army, the space station, the weapons...you can't possibly have funded this yourself!

Michael: Worked that out all by yourself, did you?

He raises his hand and points. The rampaging cadre behind him bristle, ready for combat.

Michael: TLTE, meet Angry Mob.

TLTE: Angry Mob?

Michael: Mentioned briefly in a post on page 4 of the NeS, then left behind...useless....impotent....until now.

Angry Mob: (Assorted noises of rage and frustration)

TLTE: Er....well met?

Michael: Destroy him.

The Mob need no more: they charge TLTE, washing over his vision of Michael and obscuring him completely. This worries him a great deal more than the ferocious killers rushing for his throat.

TLTE: Borscht.

He bullet-dodges backwards, sliding on his back across the floor as he launches a rocket at the crowd leader. The rocket smacks into his abdomen and TLTE sees him double over just as the explosives within detonate, igniting a bright rose of flame that washes over them all. Just in time, TLTE pulls his coat over himself, shielding him from the actnic blast.

TLTE: Ahh! Hot hot hot!

He pulls his trench apart just in time to see a bare remainder of the Angry Mob opening fire on him. TLTE rolls sideways as bullets puncture the steel beneath him like a swarm of angry hornets. He pushes himself into a sideways roll, which develops into a leap to his feet - and suddenly he is back in the fight.

An old man who is obviously a traditionalist leaps into range with a flaming torch and pitchfork, thrusting the primitive weapon at TLTE's side. TLTE pushes his bazooka into the path of the weapon, and ends up trapping them together. The feeble old man cannot carry the weight of both a pitchfork and a bazooka, and casts forward pitifully onto the ground.

TLTE spins around as two more sprightly men take careful aim with AK-47s and let loose. Instantly, two Smith and Wessons are in the Spymaster's hands - as he drops into a forward crouch, he blasts the two of them, sending them flying in mirror images into the sombre steel walls.

A bullet rips the air directly in front of his nose, and TLTE pulls himself backward, firing both left and right without looking. The shooter turns out to be neither left nor right: and TLTE dodges another salvo just in time to turn and shoot his attacker, hanging cleverly from a ceiling vent.

TLTE: Damn it! MICHAEL!

A golden blur across the periphery of his vision compels TLTE to dodge - but the blade still cuts superficially across his side before he can move away, and he lets out a shout of pain.

Michael: Been keeping up with your swordplay, TLTE?

TLTE's pain melts away, replaced with empty anger. Michael is brandishing Absolver's cutlasses.

Michael: The Blackguard saved them for me. I suppose even ruthless murderers have an eye for taste on occasion, no?

TLTE: Those blades...belonged to a friend of mine.

Michael: And now they belong to another friend of yours! How delightful!

He jumps at TLTE, who ducks forward and grabs his hands, grappling for control of the blades. Michael looks at him and lets out a cry of rage, then bursts into black paper, swirling around the two cutlasses and guiding them over TLTE's head. Reforming quickly, Michael glares at him with death in his eyes.

Michael: But you didn't answer the question. Can you still use a blade? Or do I have to kill you here and now?

He jumps at TLTE, much faster this time, bringing the golden weapons singing over his head -

Only to see them clash, then stay, as if frozen in the air.

Held up by the silver of TLTE's Russian sabre.

Michael: Oh, good! You can fight still! This will be worthwhile after all...

TLTE: Michael, this has to end.

Michael: For once, we agree.

Then he is once more paper, rushing up and away, higher, leaving a mess of bodies and an enraged Russian.

*In the realm of those who write, one Gebohq the Writer worked frantically to keep up with the constant twists and turns introduced to his beloved editorial process. As assorted other writers kept their eyes glued to the screens of their word processors, waiting for the next muse to strike one of them and add to the level of entropy, Antestarr the Writer walked into the office with a Slurpee in hand.*

AtW: Hey, guys, what's up?

GtW: Ante, what're you doing there? It's madness! Madness I say!

AtW: And that's different from usual how?

GtW: You're part of it. All this stuff about making characters from characters, and now suddenly we've got forgotten characters coming back for revenge.

*Ante took this moment of ranting to take another sip of his slurpee.*

AtW: Ok. How's this deal with me again?

GtW: Haven't you been writing?

AtW: Not since I realized that payroll had removed me from the roster while I was in that meat locker.

GtW: Wait, people get paid for this stuff?!

AtW: Uh... that aside, I lost my password to update the story like a year ago. I haven't been able to write for some time. So I've been seeing the world using your credit card.

GtW: Ah, that's nice. Wait... MY[/b] credit card?!

AtW: Is that a problem...?

------------------

*In a large, rather technologically advanced room for something in the London sewer, Antestarr, Young, Qhobeg, and Thrawn42689 inspected the damage left from the massive EMP bomb.*

Thrawn42689: It's a real mess in here... Fortunately that blast took out the manhacks.

Antestarr: You mean the ones you led in here.

Thrawn: Hey now, let's not start pointing blame.

Young: Would it not serve us better to try and find out what happened to the inhabitants of this room? It appeared they were expecting one of us.

Qhobeg: I... er... uh... *Qhobeg's it.*

*At least tried to, directly into a wall, knocking over a tarp revealing a freshly painted sign which said "Sekrit Entrense to Cittydell" directly over a mysteriously dark archway.*

Young: Perhaps we should follow this great "Obfuscated One." He seems to be leading us in the right direction.

*As the intrepid sewer spelunkers approached the ominous archway, a twisted hulk of a being stumbled out from the darkness beyond it. This thing appeared vaguley human in some places, but other parts of it were gnarled and demonic looking. A black claw gripped the side of the archway for support as it spoke.*

Creature: If you're looking for the Leperchauns, they've been hunted down and scattered. You'd be lucky to find one alive at this point.

Young: Wow, we almost met Leprechauns...

Creature: No, they're Leperchauns... still short, but more into browns and losing fingers. And don't bother asking what they keep in their hidden pots at the end of the sludgeworks.

Qhobeg: Dangit... I always wanted to catch a Leprechaun and get a wish granted. I could have been a real boy....

*Thrawn just stared at Qhobeg for a moment.*

Qhobeg: ...What?

Creature: Anyway, I suppose you guys may still have a chance of liberating this world, if you're still interested.

Ante: Hmm... you've seen some better days, haven't you. It's been a while, Dalaes.

*Oh my! Another character from days long past has come to join the troupe! Is our party finally close to saving the world from the forces of Helebon? Or is this just another setup for ironic twists? Aw, heck, you all probably know that answer by now. Stay tuned for the next installment!*