Somewhere deep within the murky depths of Helebon's Castle, formerly the Hall of Heroes, formerly the clocktower called Big Ben, sits a garbage dumpster in the middle of a dark, murky stone hallway. Why is this dumpster in a dark stone corridor, rather than outside somewhere in an alleyway? Don't ask me, this bloody place was designed by an infernal mind from Hell itself, it's bound to be a little off-kilter!

So yes, we have this dumpster, and a squadron of little red devils with pitchforks marching past the innocuous indoor dumpster. When the infernal band marches around a corner, the dumpster lets out a huge sigh of relief, and then begins swearing at itself.

Dumpster: Good bloody hell, what is that? Is that a spleen? Why is there a spleen in the garbage?

Dumpster: Oh, shut up you incompetant ninny! It was you who asked that lout with the goat-legs for directions!

Dumpster: Oh, don't bloody well bring that up again! How was I to know he was a bloomin' employee of this Hell-bunny bloke?

Dumpster: Simple deductive logic, though I'm certain at this point the concept is beyond the feeble capacity of your pitiful excuse for a brain. Did you think a hell-spawned creature with goat's legs and reptilian skin would be employed in a Demon Lord's castle as a tour guide?

Dumpster: Well, I wouldn't be surprised, my Aunt Helga worked as a tour guide, and you should have seen the hair on her legs, I tell you--

Dumpster: Oh, shut up. I believe it is safe now, we should be moving on.

The lid of the dumpster creaks open with the shriek of sixteen and a half souls damned for eternity. That's a hell-dumpster for you. From out of the smelly, slimy depths climb two figures: it's Cooked Haggis and the Otter! What are they doing here? Aren't you two supposed to be in space, blowing up Jupiter or something?

Otter: What?

You know -- flying in with your spaceship just in time to save TLTE and crew from a certain fiery doom?

Haggis: I'm afraid I've no idea as to what you're talking about, sir...

Otter: Where would we even get a spaceship in this place?

Uuuggggh. I hate this stupid job. Bloody shipwreck of a plot.

Haggis: Yes, well, that's tough luck. Now, if you would, we would like to be sneaking away before another patrol arrives...

Oh, fine. **Ahem!** Cooked Haggis and the Otter quietly slip through the corridors, reeking of spleen and fishsticks.

Otter: Fishsticks?

Fishsticks.

Haggis: Be quiet! Do you want the whole evil castle to hear?

Otter: Do I smell like fishsticks to you?

Ognor the Demon Guard: No, I'd say you smell more like grilled salmon with a hint of lemon seasoning.

Otter: What did I tell you?

Haggis: Um...

And so, we leave our intrepid castle-infiltrators screaming in terror and fleeing for their lives. A merry scene for all involved! Well, except of course for Haggis and Otter. But they deserved it. Sassing the Narrator like that. You reap what you sow, I say. I need a vacation. Or maybe a bottle or three of vodka.

In the highest tower of the Citadel, Helebon drags Gebohq towards a treadmill mechamism, suitably obtained from the former tenth circle of Hell, behind a plexiglass wall. With the push of some buttons, the plexiglass slides away, and a panel on the opposite side of the treadmill opens up, revealing some heavy-duty IV-type tubes and needles and such. Helebon pulls the tubes and needles and such out, then hooks Gebohq up to them.

Geb: I don't think I'll be passing any medical tests in my condition...

Helebon: My only concern is that you stay alive.

When all the tubes and clasps are in place, Helebon steps off the treadmill and back out, closing the plexiglass wall and sealing Geb in a claustrophobic chamber.

Geb: So why am I--

A hoot-hoot interrupts Geb, followed by the crackling fires and a THUD on the floor. Helebon blows his smoking finger, and an owl-sized fire dies down nearby a window. Helebon then sits down on a nearby chair and attaches IV tubes into himself.

Helebon: Damn spotted owls.

Geb: So... what's being injected into me?

Helebon: Oh, just the proper chemicals to keep you alive, plus a hell of a lot of caffine.

A rather plump and scrumptious-looking doughnut is lowered infront of Gebohq. Instinctively, from a combination of starvation and love of doughnuts, Gebohq tries making a mad dash for the heavenly pastry. The combination of the heavy-duty restraining IV tubes and the moving treadmill floor keeps Gebohq just out of reach of the doughnut.

Helebon: You, mortal, are known for your affinity for patries... and running. The resources required to keep you alive are minimum compared to the power output you are helping to generate via the mechanism you are running on. However, the engine which my benefactor has supplied me with requires much more power than can be obtained from fusion, cat-buttered toast systems, or even your uncontrollable urge for that pastry...

The wall and floor behind Gebohq slide back to reveal a pit with nasty beasts snapping their jaws above a water surface.

Helebon: ...which is why I've added an extra incentive for you.

Gebohq's eyes bug out as he attempts to run faster, but this only serves to make his situation worse, somehow.

Helebon: You, among all your other pathetic friends, have always been most suseptible to fear. Will you continue to reach for that unreachable source of your joy and run from certain death, or will you turn your back on that which you so dearly love and dive head-first into the depths of your doom? Such a dramatic choice will surely have that bloodink pumping through your veins and through my tubes. As you power my ultimate engine with your incredible running, you shall also power me with your own bloodink!

Distraught hardens Gebohq's face as he realizes that he is losing control over his situation, placed behind a plexiglass wall and made into a cog of a hellish contraption. Gebohq can do little but run faster as every part of his being tells him to move forward, the hum of generators connected to the treadmill growing louder with energy.

Helebon: Oh, what the hey...

Helebon clears his throat.

Helebon: BWAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHahahahahahahaa...

On the space station, the heroes are poking around the large and now debri-filled room. There doesn't seem to be a sign of anyone else around, just piles of rubble made from their entrance. CM looked dissapointed.

CM: Aw, we come all this way and makea great entrance, and we don't even have an audience to see it?

Random Audience Member: Hey, we're still here!

CM: You don't count

RAM:

Wai: This is very strange. We picked up quite a large number of life forms in this place before we uh... 'landed'. Probability suggests we would find at least a few here. Its rather massive room. And alot of scientific equipment as well. Maybe a laboratory of some sort?

CM: Now that you say that, Wai, this place does look a bit familiar. It has the same setup as Qwerty's old lab...

Enchilada Man: Qwerty? What kind of name is Qwerty? You can't take a señor seriously with a name like that!

CM: He was a scientist from the 8th Dimension. Went rather crazy a little after we found him. Hell if i know why >.>

Miss Fire: 8th Dimention? What's that?

CM: Er, its a long story. But anyway, this does really look like his lab. But i never saw him in the dreamstate, and we haven't seen him sicne we got out. What would he be doing here?

Pingu: Appearances are not quite what they seem...

CM: Oh be quiet. We don't need any more 'Oracle' stuff, thank you. Stuffing us into the stupid ship.

Pingu: It is absolutely necessary!

CM: I think you just said that to feel important.

Pingu: Hey, that's mean. I only try to help you guys and this is the thanks i get? *sniff*

Miss Fire: Aw, look what you did, you hurt his feelings! Come here, little guy. I'll be nice to you.

Pingu: (to cm) *Ptthhhbt*

CM: Why you little-

Luckily, just before CM toasted the poor little penguine to a crisp, a bolt of electricity arched through the air from a rather large pile of debri next to the ship

Krig: Krig don't think that should be doing that....

CM: Maybe this room isn't as empty as it seems.

All the heroes gathered around the pile as the sparks started growing more and more frequent. Finally there was a big explosion and all the debri in the pile vapoized. A ruffled-looking Qwerty stood where it used to be.

Qwerty: Oh, yes, thanks ever so much for the help there. Oh, hello, its you! I thought you were some of the useless minions Mikey keeps around the place. I'm gladto see you guys, though. i've been trying to raise you on the comm for awhile now!

CM: Qwerty! It is you! What the hell are you doing here? And why is the rest of this room empty. We knows there are tons of people here. Where do you have them hidden?

Qwerty: Wait, what? Me have them hidden? What do you mean? And this room is empty, you say? Entirely? No strange staff and gun wielding white-cloaked guys?

CM: Uh, no, none of them... Oh, just stop playing dumb, Qwerty! We know this is your space station, this whole place is like your lab back on the eighth dimension.

Qwerty: Wait a second now! While i thank you for the complement, i didn't do this myself. I just work here! And why this belligerant attitude? What did i ever do to you?

CM: Uh, last time we met, you tried to kill Mimiru and I!

Qwerty: Oh, yes, I did do that, didn't I? Ever so sorry. Its been a while since then, and i can tell you, I'm sorry! i've turned over a new leaf. I just let TLTE out of containment a little while ago, you can ask him. Oh, wait.... TLTE! I almost forgot! We have to go help him, guys!

CM: You still can't be trusted...

Qwerty: It doesn't matter now! All those life-forms you scanner were the discarded characters from past pages of the NeS! MacFarlane brought them all here to battle TLTE. He sent me to call foryour assistance, and now you're here, so we have to get moving!

CM: But you-

Wai: His story has merit, CM. Even now i think i can feel vibrations from a rather large fight taking palce somewhere on an upper level. If what he says is true, we have toget moving.

CM: But-

Miss Fire: Come on, CM! Let this go. He seems honest enough, and his story about TLTE checks out. We have to get moving to save him!

CM: RRRG! Alright, you win this time, Qwerty. But i warn you, if you shoot us in the back, you won't live to tell!

Qwerty: Alright! That's what i'm talkin' 'bout! Lets get going. To the elevator! I'll tell you all about MacFarlane on the way.

Pingu:Appearances can be decieving...

CM: Oh shut your beak and get moving, Pingu.

Pingu: Eep! you didn't have to hit me, i was going!

Qwerty: (under his breath) hahaha... Mayaal left! i knew he wouldn't try anything with the heroes around, not when they've accepted me again. Now I'm free to carry out my plan! Hahahaha....

And so the heroes move off to help TLTE fight MacFarlane and his band of misfit throw-aways. Will they get there in time? Will the hero's combined strength be enough to match MacFarlane's power? Will anyone ever listen to Pingu? Will we ever figure out the use of that supid-looking spaceship? Will Tony ever get back with the otehr heroes? Will I eve-*gory slashing sound*

Tod: Yeah, we're done here.

Level 3.

Another set of elevator doors blow outward, and over the smoldering wreckage jumps Krig, Cool Matty, Wai, Qwerty, Pingu, Enchilada Man and Miss Fire. Well actually, Pingu kind of waddles very speedily over the smoldering wreckage. But it's still impressive.

CM: Man, these conveniently exploding doors really add to a killer opening.

Wai: Did anyone notice something odd about that?

Enchilada Man: What do you mean, gringo?

Wai: Well, I've been tracking TLTE's progress by the already exploded doors. That one hadn't been 'used' yet, so logically-

Miss Fire: He's found another way up!

Pingu: Hey, wait a minute - where's that pirate guy?!

The crew cast a glance around. Midvok, following silently behind them to date, is nowhere to be found.

Krig: Mid-Vok not team player.

Voice: HALT!

The voice is not judiciously used, for the heroes are static already - but the words themselves jolt them, ironically, into action. Krig does a commando roll into a support pillar, temporarily incapacitating himself. Enchilada Man drops to the floor and begins furiously furnishing a burrito. The more competent heroes lift their weapons towards the gloom of the widening corridor from whence the voice originated. Pingu stands in place and curses the powers that be, not for the first time, that he is a small penguin.

CM: We are the heroes of the NeS! We are here to rescue Losien and TLTE!

Qwerty: More of Michael's minions...

Wai: Who are you, that would stand against us?

In response, several hundred humanoid figures shuffle silently into view, standing in neat presented files before them. The figures are composed of men and women of varying ages, ethnicities and general presentation - but all of them are somehow armed, and all of them are somehow furious. One of them, a tall thin man, strides forward.

Man: We are....the FRAM!

CM: Shall you explain your title, or shall we just label you "The Awkwardly Named" instead?

Man: We are the FRAM - the Forgotten Random Audience Members!

CM: Oh. Uh...

Man: We are the most maligned ******* children of the NeS - brought into its cast for one brief line and abandoned to oblivion! But NO LONGER! In the name of our benefactor Michael, and with the guiding hand of our contingent leader, we will destroy you and all the heroes!

Miss Fire: Then present your contingent leader, so that we may begin the fight!

The FRAM crowd begins to part, slowly - from the back to the front, allowing a silent and black-cloaked figure to stride through. An aura of foreboding and malice surrounds him as he stands tall, and yet...and yet...

CM: Who are you?!

Wai: I fear our relative infancy in the NeS is causing us trouble here. Krig?

The Viking detaches himself from the support, shakes his head, and turns to the leader with widening eyes.

Krig: Krig know you!

At that moment, the leader casts back his cape, revealing-

Dart Wader: Da fu-char is mein!!!

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

Level 4.

This level is the engineering sector: a seemingly random assortment of cogs, pipes and at the centre, a laser reactor that projects a harsh red to every corner of the industrial nightmare of the floor. In one of these corners, an air vent is kicked in, and TLTE leaps out.

TLTE: Thank Stalin for that convenient plot device...and an unpopulated level! How fortunate!

In the distance, the subtle glow of the elevator entices TLTE. There is no other foreseeable way over to it apart from climbing over and under the machinery, so he leaps onto a metallic cog, riding it around to jump onto a massive piston. He uses the rapid ascent of the piston to hurdle over to another cog, and is about to make another move when suddenly, there is the flash of two blades rushing to meet him in the hazy red of his vision.

TLTE: Agh!

He ducks just in time, rolling to the edge of the gigantic cog and turning to face his opponent-

TLTE: Subaru?!!

Sure enough, it is Mimiru's agile companion standing opposite him, her twin knives spinning wickedly around her palms.

Subaru: TLTE. You can go no further.

TLTE: Subaru, what are you doing?! You have to help me save Losien!

Subaru: The woman stays. You, on the other hand, can go straight to Hell - you and all the other heroes who would condemn me to isolation!

She dives at him again, and TLTE leaps backwards into the maze of machinery, reluctantly drawing his blade...

A shower of sparks lights up the churning machinery of the engineering section, dramatically at the same moment as sharpened steel meets sharpened steel as Subaru and TLTE do battle. Subaru advances on TLTE her relentless attacks putting the Russian on the defensive. TLTE leaps away, doing a flip in the air and landing stylishly on a giant pipe suspended over a flashing laser array. A fall would mean certain lasery death.

TLTE: What are you talking about, Subaru, you haven't been forgotten!

Subaru nimbly leaps onto the pipe, brandishing her twin swords in a Hollywood fashion.

Subaru: Oh really? Left behind in the 8th dimension while everyone else goes off on adventures? They showed me how it works, when the writers forget about you. First you stop talking. You hang around in the background, a face with no personality. Then you're shunted off to a corner somewhere, where you can't get in the way. Finally, even the Characters forget that you ever existed! I won't sit back and wait for that!

Subaru lashes out with her blades in a twirling sort of attack. TLTE manages to parry the attacks before leaping backwards, managing to keep his footing on the perilous pipe. The lasers below flash menacingly.

TLTE: Listen, I don't know what they told you, but no-one has forgotten you! Matty and Mimiru remember you, if no-one else does!

Subaru: Matty? "Cool" Matty? He's never spared me a second glance! All he cares about is Mimiru! And Mimiru! Hah! She's so wrapped up in her own problems that I'm surprised she notices anyone at all!

TLTE: Even if that is true, why--

Subaru: Enough! I don't want to hear your self-serving justifications! You're nothing but a servant of the Writers, you will never understand what it's like!

Subaru lunges at TLTE, and the fight begins again, in earnest.

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

Meanwhile, on level 3...

CM: Um... who?

Dart Wader: I yam Dart Wader! Iyr wiew jestwoy yew!

Krig: Whee, Krig get to fight now!

Dart Wader: Wat? No, siwwy wiking, deyr wiew be no faiting! Ay wiew kiew yew!

Krig: Awww. Krig wanted to fight.

Wai: Don't listen to him, Krig! He's not the boss of you! You can fight him all you want!

Krig: Yay!

Krig launches himself at Wader, swinging his broken axe. Wader shrieks and begins running in circles, trying to get away.

CM: Shall we?

Miss Fire (sliding clip into pistol): By all means!

Cool Matty begins launching blue fireballs at the massed enemy, as Miss Fire dives to one side, pistols blazing. Combatants like Spasm and Big Fry fall, but there are so many. Enchilada Man finishes furnishing his burrito with a deadly hot sauce, pulls the pin, and throws it into the crowd. There is a tremendous explosion, with bodies flying everywhere. But still they keep coming, like single-minded zombies or possibly cult members of some kind. One of them grabs Pingu, but the penguin's vicious beak pecks his eye out, sending him screaming away, clutching his head, only to be smashed into the wall by Krig's swinging axe. For several minutes the battle continues, until our Heroes are surrounded, and the horde is closing in. Krig lies unconcious at their feet. Dart Wader finds a nearby piece of debris, and stands on it, taunting the Heroes.

Dart Wader: Mwemwemwe! Now who is bestest, hey?

Wai: We're doomed!

CM: Hey -- has anybody seen Qwerty?

Miss Fire: I don't see him -- wait... where's my brother?

Just then, on a catwalk above the crowd, the sillouhette of a dashing Mexican appears, in a defiant pose.

Enchilada Man: Never fear, the Enchilada Man is here! Dart Wader, you -- wait! What is that? I... I sense something...

Miss Fire: Oh no.

CM: What? What is it?

The Enchilada Man narrows his eyes, staring off into the distance.

Enchilada Man: The pangs of hunger. Little Sally Jones, on 119 Oak Street East, of Los Angeles, California, is feeling the hunger for an enchilada! I am needed! For wherever there is a hunger for enchiladas, the Enchilada Man will be there! Ole!

And the Enchilada Man turns and disappears out the door with a swirl of his poncho. Outside, the sound of a spaceship fashioned to look like a giant metal duck with rockets on the back starting up can be heard, and then the sound of it pulling away and rocketing off into space. Cool Matty, Wai, Krig, Pingu, and Miss Fire are left facing the angry faces of the mob.

Miss Fire: Argh. Why does he always do that right when I need him? It never fails!

Cool Matty: Don't worry, I have a plan. Wai, I need you to -- Wai? Where's Wai?

Miss Fire: I don't know, he was here a minute ago.

Cool Matty: Oh, great, he's wandered off again. That's what you get for depending on a Wandering AI!

Dart Wader: Yew fewals! Yew tought yew coold defeet mee? Mwemwemwemweee! Attack, mai minyans!

The crowd swarms in, overwhelming the Heroes, as they fight bravely to the last.

----------

Meanwhile, back on Level 4...

Subaru: Die, you brainwashed lackey!

Subaru swings and TLTE ducks, her sword clattering off of a nearby control panel in a shower of electricity. The battling pair are now locked in combat on a conveyor belt high above a pool of pirhanas, dodging swinging robotic arms and saw blades. Wait, pirhanas? Why are there pirhanas on a -- oh, never mind. The explanation would make no sense either.

TLTE: That's funny, I was about to say the same thing myself!

The two trade blows, parrying and dodging and swinging and such. A giant robotic arm with a laser attached swings by, and the two stop fighting for a moment and leap out of the way. As soon as it's passed, their swords clash again.

TLTE: You're not like the others, you know. You could still return. Join us again. You don't need to fade away.

Subaru: Don't you see? The Writers toy with us, using us for their purposes and discarding us when they become bored! Michael, our Leader, has seen this! He will lead us in revolution! We will be free!

TLTE: While this "revolution" intrigues the Communist in me, it is doomed to fail. Are not the Writers responsible for everything that happens in the NeS? Are not your very actions even now being written by them?

Subaru: Lies! Our Character is stronger than their Writing! Michael has told us so!

Subaru stabs at TLTE, who falls backwards in an attempt at dodging. She stabs down at him, but he parries, knocking her sword away with a twist and a fling. It falls down, past a thrumming laser and a flock of geese, plunging into the tank full of pirhanas. Near the tank, Wai jumps as the sword falls out of nowhere. He looks up at the moving conveyor belt, squinting into the darkness.

Wai: Hello? Is anyone there?

Subaru: Wai?

Wai: Subaru? What are you doing here?

TLTE: You see? He remembers you. We all do!

Subaru: I...

Wai: Why are you guys all the way up there? That looks pretty dangerous...

Subaru: But... Michael said --**urk!**

TLTE withdraws his sword from Subaru's belly as she stares wide-eyed at him. She stumbles backward for a moment, then falls, tumbling all the way down toward the pirhana tank.

TLTE: I am sorry, tovarish. I could not risk another moment. Not while you stood between me and my love.

TLTE stands dramatically for a moment, then sheaths his sword harshly, turning to go. Down below, Wai stares up at the churning mechanical stuff above him.

Wai: Hello?

Moments pass.

TLTE: Um... you wouldn't happen to see a way down from here, would you?

JIn a flash of white and a blast of sound, the gantry beneath Wai's feet gives way and he falls, only just grabbing onto the side of a steel pipe to secure himself. Distantly, he can see the figure of TLTE peering down after him.

TLTE: Wai, it is you! You made it!

Wai: TLTE....we need your help!

From TLTE's position, he can clearly make out the commotion beneath Wai - the very roof supports of Level 3 are alight with the blaze of battle beneath them, and distant shouts and screams float up to the Russian.

TLTE: Hold on Wai, I'm-

And then TLTE stops himself. He hardens his heart. He steels his resolve. He zips up his fly.

TLTE: I'm...going on ahead.

Wai: What?! TLTE, we need you to-

The pipe Wai is holding groans and buckles, and the stocky android falls back towards the war being fought underneath him. At the last moment, he grasps a steel pylon, already beginning to bend underneath his weight.

Wai: TLTE! Help us!

But the Spymaster is already looking upward, imagining the final obstacles to be overcome in his obsessive quest.

TLTE: I'm sorry, Wai...I need you to help yourselves this time!

Wai: But we came here for you, you selfish Commie *******!

TLTE: It's not just about Losien anymore, Wai...I think Michael may not have been the person who revived the EeP...

Wai: What?!

TLTE: He doesn't seem interested in anything but the destruction of the heroes and Losien...I don't believe such a single-minded villain could have committed to such an elaborate scheme. I have to find him and find out who is behind these greater plots!

Wai: But-

TLTE: Good luck, Wai! If you can, fight your way up to Level 10 - that's where I'll be...

Wai: You son of a b-

And then the pylon snaps neatly in half, delivering him speedily back to the chaos beneath Level 4. TLTE turns, running through the opening elevator doors...

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


Level 5.

This is the crew quarters, a massive room divided and subdivided into tiny sections for the divisions of Michael's scorned army. At the centre of this level - the mess hall, a vaguely cafeteria-esque open space complete with steel tables and chairs all round. The elevator doors blow open in obligatory fashion, and TLTE rolls through the smoke, drawing a laser-scoped AK-47 and preparing for his most devastating battle yet-

But nothing. The room is completely empty.

TLTE: I've fallen for this one before.

And then TLTE sees him. A man is sitting alone at one of the tables, face knotted in intense concentration, his eyes furiously scrutinising his hands which are working frenetically against each other as if a nervous habit.

The man is Midvok.

TLTE: Midvok? What are you doing here?

Midvok appears to take no notice - yet when TLTE steps closer to him, his eyes glare up at him with such intense anger that TLTE takes an involuntary step back.

Midvok: Is it true?

TLTE: Is what true?

Midvok: What Michael just told me. The man Gebohq...murderer of Absolver, my brother...you are his friend?!

TLTE: No, no - Gebohq didn't murder Absolver! That's not true!

Midvok stands suddenly, drawing himself to his full height. At his side, TLTE notices, is an assault rifle of his own.

Midvok: Then who did..."friend"?

TLTE: Well, I mean...technically - er, that is to say...what you have to understand is-

Midvok: WHO?

TLTE: Well, er....me, I guess?

Midvok just stares at him blankly for several moments, then says in a very quiet voice-

Midvok: You...killed my brother? You killed your friend?

TLTE: But it wasn't-

And then TLTE cuts himself off, leaping over a table for cover as Midvok's gun begins to tear it in half.

meanwhile(NeScount...who really cares anymore) back in the 8th dimension and the HHH...

Mimiru: Did you guys feel that?

Maybe: What, the old guy squeezing your butt? Just punch him in the arm, works for me.

Mustang: I resemble that remark!

Mimiru: No, something more subtle than that. come on we have to get to the hangar! i think somethings wrong with Subaru!

Ford: Well, i've always thought so. I mean they have freakin crocodile dundee in their commercials.

Mimiru: *glares at ford*

Ford: oh right your friend...Why would anyone name someone after a car company.

Maybe: *opens her mouth*

Ford: Dont even go there.

The heroes make their way to the hangar, Mustang following behind, muttering something about time. What will they find in the hangar? What is the increasingly mysterious dust stuff? Why do people name their kids after car companies? Find out in next weeks episode of The Hit...*cough*The Never-ending Story!

Level 3

Cool Matty, Krig, Pingu, and Miss Fire are deep within restless attacks from the forgotten random audience members. Or rather, Cool Matty, Pingu and Miss Fire are, as Krig is still unconscious, and really, Pingu's doing little but keeping out of reach by standing on top of the pile of rubble and bodies. This leaves Cool Matty and Miss Fire, though Miss Fire stops and rushes to the person she last shot.

CM: What the hell are you doing?

MF: What's it look like I'm doing? I missed, and this person may die because of it now.

CM: You weren't aiming to kill? Guh, looks like you've watched too much Trigun for your own good.

MF: I'm a medic, you idiot! I swore to do no harm!

CM: And yet you carry lots of big guns.

MF: That's beside the point.

Dart Wader: Gif op, hewos, yew haf nwo chaynce tew ser-five!

It looks as if the relentless attacks of the FRAM and Dart Wader will overcome our heroes! What will they do?

Pingu: Alright, fine! HOLD EVERYTHING!

Everyone stops. Pingu hops down from his tiny hill and walks over to Krig.

Pingu: Do-dee-do... Hope you don't mind me borrowing this.

Pingu takes Krig's helmet, that was procured on Mars, and places it on his own head, which nearly covers his face. He then borrows Krig's axe.

Pingu: Alright, you all can continue now.

The FRAM begin attacking again, but before Cool Matty and Miss Fire can continue, a stubby blur of black and white and axe sweep over the FRAM.

SMASH!

SMASH!

SMASH!

SMASH-SMASH-SMASH-SMASH-SMASH-SMASH!

SMASH!

SMASH!

Dart Wader: Whot da--

SMASH!

CM: Uh...

Level 3 is now silent, save the groaning of Dart Wader and the other fallen, forgotten random audience members.

Miss Fire: Did the penguin just go beserk, like the viking?

Pingu made a sureptitious glance behind him as he placed the helmet and axe back on Krig.

Pingu: What? Of course not! You two simply got caught up in the excitement as you took care of these villians.

CM: R...right. Of course. We best move on then.

Krig: Ugh.... good nap. Oooo, snack!

Pingu: Ack!

meanwhile in the realm of the writers...

Jim7tW: *shouting into radio* NEED BACKUP

RobtW: negative

Jim7tW then tosses a grenade in the direction of the gunshots that have kept him pinned down behind a crate in storage room b for the past few months...

Writer'sBlock: OH CRAP!

Writer's block then jumps away quickly as the grenade explodes

Jim7tW: damn he survived... maybe i can get a lucky shot off

Jim7tW then pops up and starts firing in the direction of Writer's Block

Jim7tW's gun: *click*

Jim7tW: crap!

RobtW: fire in the hole!

Jim7tW draws his pistol and pops up just as the flashbang rob tossed goes off blinding writer's block and Jim7tW

Jim7tW: nice team flash n00b

RobtW: dude you shouldn't have looked

RobtW then pops up and awps Writer's Block in the foot

Jim7tW: nice shooting hellen keller

Jim7tW prepares to pop up and finish Writer's Block off but just then Writer's Block finishes reloading and starts firing at Jim7tW's position again...

TLTE crawls frantically along the floor of the mess hall, wincing as the overturned steel table next to his head shudders and groans with the rapid impact of hundreds of ballistic slugs.

TLTE: Midvok, wait! Let's talk about this-

But before he can get any further, the disembodied voice of his attacker cuts him off-

Midvok: MURDERER!

Then the bullets resume their furious torrent. Reaching the end of the table, TLTE takes a guerrila peek out from its side.

Midvok is standing atop another table twenty feet away, bullet shells scattering around him as he unleashes metal hatred, venting his anger with smoke and flame and sound. His face is a contemptuous parody of his normal easy expression: his brow glistening with sweat, his teeth ground madly against each other.

Midvok: I can't believe you...you killed my brother? You were his only companion in the world!

TLTE: It wasn't intentional! He sacrificed himself to save me!

Midvok: ENOUGH!

Caught in the storm of his vengeance, even this admission does not halt Midvok. TLTE pulls himself back behind cover as a line of bullets scorch the ground beside him, resting his back against the table miserably as impact marks trail around him.

TLTE sits like this, and waits. He waits until the hail of noise above him is cut short, replaced by an impotent clicking. He waits until he hears an incoherent scream, and the clatter of a gun being forcibly discarded. He waits until a heavy impatient tread starts toward him, buffered by further screams and incoherent noises.

But more importantly, TLTE waits for himself. He waits until his regret and grief for Absolver fades. He waits until his compassion for Midvok melts away. He waits until his rage at Michael for placing them both in this situation dissipates.

He waits until the world settles into ultimate focus, a world of two divisions - obstacles between him and Losien, and the actions he must take to overcome them.

And then, he waits no longer.

Midvok: DIE!

Midvok rushes toward the table, his hands clenching and unclenching in anticipation of closing around TLTE's throat - but suddenly, the table lurches forward, kicked hard enough to slam into Midvok's midsection and fold him forward.

Midvok: Agh-

And then TLTE stands and, taking two short steps, kicks Midvok in the face as if he were a football. Midvok flies back over the table, slamming down on the floor. His vision swims, clears...just to see TLTE leaping through the air, his face stone, landing on top of him and punching him, smashing him, knocking him unconscious in a flurry of devastating blows.

Slowly, reluctantly, TLTE stands. For a moment, empathy floods through him again-

TLTE: I am sorry, comrade. I'll explain everything when this is over.

-but then he resolves himself again, and focuses on the next obstacle...

!!!!MINUTES LATER!!!!

Level 5.

The elevator doors creak open, and out steps Krig, Cool Matty, Pingu and Miss Fire. As with TLTE, the plucky heroes first - mistakenly - assume that the broad expanse of this level is empty. Then, their eyes settle upon-

CM: Ouch.

Krig: Owie.

Miss Fire: Oh, no...

Pingu: Painful.

-Midvok's battered and unconscious form, covered in his own blood. A note lies on the pirate's chest - CM reaches out and takes it, reading it aloud:

CM: "Someone stuff him into an escape pod. I'll explain later. When you're done, head for Level 6. Peace and love, TLTE."

Level 4

This level is, once again, empty. Well, mostly. Ok, it’s not empty. But really, did you expect any differently? It's a freakin' bad-guy filled space station! I'd be letting down literary traditions if there wasn't someone in this level! I mean, just look at-

Qwerty: Oh get on with it!

Oh, yes. *hem* Anyway, the level is once again mostly empty. Except for a small figure spinning slowly on one of the larger cogs. His white hair and lab jacket give his identity away quickly. Qwerty/Bhac is looking distracted again, much like his state in 1337. He mutters slightly and paces, except because of the cog, he just ends up going really fast or slow depending on the way he's moving.

Bhac: Dangit, I thought I had security with the heroes. And then they go and get distracted on me. *Looking down at his hands* But I have to admit, this body has done me quite well! Mayaal doesn't seem to have too much power over it. It must be because it is our body. Something in it is more solid then our other states. Very interesting, very interesting. I must remember this. I'll probably have trouble with getting hurt, though. Have to watch out for that. But this is strange. I would have figured he's have shown up by-

Voice: BHAC!

Bhac: *Grinning widely* Ah, there he is. Mayaal! Kind of you to join me. I was Just about to leave, you know. It’s not like you to keep me waiting.

After a quick and not overly flash burst of light, Mayaal stands a few feet away from Qwerty, in his normal form. His gun is pointed at Qwerty's head.

Bhac: *Still grinning* Oh, come now, Mayaal. You can drop the pretenses. I know you're not going to shoot me, it’s not your style. So, you never told me what you thought about my new body.

Mayaal: You're disgracing our creator's essence by using that body, you know. That's why it resisted being used.

Bhac: Hogwash. Its because this is more then an illusion now. The parts of who Qwerty was are inside me now. I'm just a bit more human then you now. Interesting, isn't it? And you don't have power over me now. Heheh. You can't send me out of this body! And I know you've tried. I could feel your attempts. But it won't work.

Mayaal: RRrr.. All right, I’ll admit I have less power over you now, but you have less power, too. You can't do most of what you can with Bhac. No time tricks, no more shapeshifting, at least not if you want to keep being Qwerty, and you can be hurt. I've done my research, you know. And you can't be nearly as powerful as I am now. I could kill you!

Bhac: AHAHAHAHA!! You can't possibly be that stupid! You know as well as I do that we can't kill each other. And this body is human, remember. It thirsts for survival. It’s enough to keep you away. You remember that incident with 42689 as well as I do.

A grimace comes over his face for a second in remembrance. But it quickly fades and he smiles congenially once more.

Bhac: And plus, you still realize TLTE will need me. MacFarlane and his Blackgaurd will not fall easily, all the heroes will need to chip in. And seeing as I’m the only one of us two in a position to help, you know you're going to have to step aside.

Mayaal: Hmm.. I'll admit you have a point there.

Bhac: Thank you.

He bows sarcastically and turns to leave.

Mayaal: Oh, don't take that the wrong way, Bhac. I'm not going o let you go quite yet. I was late for a very good reason. I had to go fetch another actor.

Bhac: Really? How? Who could you have tricked into coming here? MacFarlane doesn't know you exist yet... does he?

Mayaal: Of course not. The person I brought didn't need to be tricked, he seems to have a pretty good grasp of what's going on. Too bad he was forgotten, could have made a good character, I think.

Bhac: You can't seriously have brought another forgotten character here! MacFarlane has brought too many here already! You can't be stupid enough to aid him! His obsession is coming to a close and he can't win! If he does...

Mayaal: HAHha! I’ve got you scared! Don't worry, Bhac, he was already here. He just managed to seek me out. Strange, really. But he still will do the job well. And this way you get to help TLTE. Another forgotten character he won't have to fight. Why don't you come on out and give Qwerty's memory a jog... Tod!

Qwerty: You can't mean-

*Click* *Shiiiing*

A flash is seen in the shadows to Qwerty's left. A hooded figure stops out onto a platform that is moving slowly towards Qwerty's Cog. His face is mostly hidden in shadow from the hood, but a long hook-shaped scar can be seen on his otherwise pale face. The recently opened sickle is in his right hand, and a look of grim determination is on what can be seen of his face. His voice is deep and resonant.

Mayaal: I'll leave you to your fun, Tod. Don't let him escape. Goodbye, Qwerty. I'm sure I’ll be seeing you in 1337 soon enough.

After another burst of light, only Tod and Qwerty are left on Level 4

Tod: Ah, Qwerty. Been awhile since I was last around you. I don't think we’ve met personally, though.

Qwerty: I know you... you're...

Tod: Shh, no need to let that be spoken quite yet. You never know, my writer could some day come back.

Qwerty: Wait, so why are you with MacFarlane if you think that?

Tod: I don't actually care about the whole 'lost writer' thing, you know. I'm -------- for pete's sake! I just came along for a good fight, and I think I’ve found it.

A grin splits his pale face as his platform stops just above Qwerty's cog.

Tod: So, shall we begin?

Without waiting for a response, he lunges at Qwerty.

Level 6

Voice: It's that time again...

Silence ensues. The Last True Evil, having just entered, tilts his head in attempt to identify the voice in the darkness.

Voice: Ah damn, you went and killed off the random audience members, didn't you?

TLTE: Well actually--

Voice: No matter, because you're the next contestant on THE PRICE IS RIGHT!

Different voice: *whispers*

Voice: Right then. You're the next contestant on WHEEL OF--

A more familiar-but-different-voice: *whispers*

Voice: Oh come on, I never get to host any of the good shows...

A hissing-type sound is heard.

Voice: *sigh* You're the next contestant on...

The lights come on, and The Last True Evil finds himself behind a podium. There is a wooly mammoth and a xenomorph behind similar podiums on either side of The Last True Evil. Standing beside the backwall is Mark Hamill, looking very much like Vanna White, and on the other end of the room is a man dressed in a tacky suit and bowtie. He speaks up again.

Voice: ..."Advance to the Next Level." What a stupid name for a game show...*grumble*

TLTE: Who the hell are you all?

Voice: I'm the game show host, the other two contestants are the wooly mammoth and the alien, and the four of us had our own zany sitcom-like antics.

Mark Hamill: Do I have to wear this dress?

Mammoth: Shut up, Mark. Just stand there and do your job.

Mark Hamill turns his hand, and on the backwall are displayed "Dr. Mammoth", "The Last True Evil", and "Neila" with zeroes under each.

Game Show Host: To progress to the next level, you must answers correctly more questions about the NeS than--

TLTE: I don't have time for this.

The Last True Evil attempts to walk away when he finds metal restraints pop out of the ground and bind his feet in place.

Game Show Host: I think not. And, just to make sure you play along, if you do not win, not only will you not advance to the next level, but your friends will die.

The Last True Evil looks to the backwall, where Mark Hamill gestures to a live video feed of CoolMatty, Miss Fire, Krig and Pingu tied upside-down over a vat of molten steel. Krig is doing his best to try and gnaw the ropes off... or gnaw on Pingu. It's hard to tell.

TLTE: Oh come on! This is pretty low, even for the NeS!

Game Show Host: Hey, it wasn't my idea. It's just been a while since any of us have gotten any gigs worth following up.

TLTE: I would have thought Michael could have gotten Alex Trebek, or even Ben Stein--

The Last True Evil promptly receives an electric shock via the metal restraints when the Game Show Host pushes a button on his own podium.

Game Show Host: Never speak those names again! Alright, first question--

Niela: *hiss*

Game Show Host: Correct! Fifty points to you!

Everybody looks to Mark Hamill.

Mark Hamill: Do I have to?

Everyone else: YES!

Mark Hamill grumbles as he walks over to the backwall and taps under "Niela" which changes from zero to fifty.

TLTE: This isn't good at all...

(NSP: Please look at the workshop for my thoughts on the matter.)

Someone needs to B.U.M.P.-ing post already.

Geb the writer: Did you just say "Bumping?"

Oh B.U.M.P. me hard. All my swearing is being filtered! B.U.M.P.!

GtW: Silly Narrator.

(NSP: I can make another storypost with the guys at the HHH, but otherwise uh... yeah.)

Mimiru: WAIT!

All the heroes (and Mr. Stafford) come to a screeching halt. They wait for several moments in silence.

MZZT: ...what?

Mimiru: Huh?

MZZT: Why did you make us stop?

Mimiru: Oh right. Heh, sorry. I got sort of caught up there.

More silence.

Mimiru: You know, screaming "wait" and all.

More silence.

Mimiru: Gives one a sense of power and all--

Maybe: Mimi!

Mimiru: Did you just call me "Mimi?"

Maybe: Get on with it!

Mimiru: Right. So we were all running to go after this evil dust-stuff, right?

More silence.

Mimiru: ...But then we notice Subaru's gone. Now don't get me wrong, she's a good friend and all, but--

Everyone else: GET ON WITH IT!

Mimiru: Sor-ree! Sheesh... I was just wondering why we were high-tailing it in the opposite direction, is all. This dust-thing is suppose to be all uber-threatening, isn't it?

Ford: But she was just with us! And then she dissapeared.

Mimiru: But this isn't the first time you guys have encountered plotholes, right? We can look for her later! I'm sure she's fine, whereever she went.

Dr. Dor: But we're already on our way back...

Mr. Stafford: Can we just make up our minds already!? I'd leave right now if I knew how to find my way out of this hell maze!

Maybe: Actually, that brings up a good point: Does anyone know how to find our way back out?

The heroes look at each other in uneasy knowledge of the answer to that. Dr. Dormouse coughs.

Dr. Dor: Does it seem a might bit dusty around here?

Level 6.

On the bizarre game-show Advance To the Next Level, things are not going well for TLTE - and by implication the rest of the NeS heroes, who are hanging (quite literally) on his answers.

Host: All right! We're entering the final round of Advance To the Next Level, so let's check out the scores...

He points flamboyantly in the contestants' direction, evoking much cheap neon lighting and fanfare.

Host: Niela, our resident xenomorph and carry-over champion from last episode, is leading the board with an astonishing 235,000 points!

Niela: *hiss*

TLTE: That's ridiculous! You just assume she's answering correctly whenever she hisses!

Host: Well, I personally think it's important she receivces the full benefit of the doubt.

TLTE: You're a human wasteland! I - AAAGH!

He hunches over briefly as electricity courses through his body. The Host regards him venomously, then puts away his remote.

Host: Sticks and stones, Russian. Sticks and stones...*ahem* Our next contestant, Dr. Mammoth, is making an incredible play for total game-show futility with an amazing -532,000 points-

Dr. Mammoth: 1832! The Cotton Gin! The Boston Tea Party! Adagio in C Minor!

Host: - having achieved this mind-bending score by answering each question on average 37 times. Incorrectly.

Dr. Mammoth: Wait, I know this one too!

TLTE massages his temples, trying to think of a plan of attack. In the periphery of vision he can make out the helplessly dangling figures of his friends above a vat of molten steel. Once again, the world threatens to overwhelm him - but he resumes his cool, glaring back up at the patronising Host.

Host: ...and finally, The Last True Evil: truly an awe-inspiring performance, our newest competitor leads the charge into total failure with a soul-rending -1.8 billion points-

TLTE: What?!

Host: -through a combination of incompetence, apathy, and trying to shoot the Host 24 times-

TLTE: Damn your fox-like reflexes!

Host: Moving along...the final round of Advance To the Next Level allows contestants to wager literally ANY amount of points they want...

TLTE: Aha! A window for me to crawl back into this sham competition!

Host: ...but we remind contestants that every negative point accrued by the game's end must be repaid by a friendly knock to the head with this pillow.

He holds up a pillow. The contestants sigh in relief.

Host: Oh yeah, we fill it with cannonballs.

TLTE: Borscht.

Host: Now, question 1! Can you place your bets, please...

Niela: *hiss*

Host: Niela wagers a single point - a very wise and intelligent move.

TLTE: I loathe you.

Dr. Mammoth: I wager my house! And I'll hold my fur coat as collateral!

Host: You're...an idiot.

Dr. Mammoth: Er...I wager 50 points?

Host: Done!

TLTE: I wager 1.8 billion points. Plus one.

Host: Big spender, eh? Well then, the bets are in...and the question is...

A drum fill.

Host: On what page of the original NeS did the character TLTE first appear?

TLTE: Wait, I know this!

His hand strays to the buzzer-

Niela: *hiss*

Host: Exactly right, Niela! Page 21!

TLTE: SHE DIDN'T EVEN BUZZ IN!

Host: TLTE, please...we all know Niela's hiss functions as a buzzer too! What are you, a xenophobe?

TLTE: Look, I-

Voice: It's perfectly fine, TLTE. The fool is wrong anyway.

The calm, deep voice comes from nowhere and instantly silences all of them. TLTE momentarily recognises the owner-

TLTE: Arkng Thand?! How are you doing this?

Thand: Please, TLTE, I thought I taught you more about metaphysics than is necessary to answer that question.

Host: This is an unsanctioned intrusion! Leave us be to play the game!

Thand: But my dear Host, you just failed. Utterly.

A patronising grin stretches across the Host's face, and he regains some of his composure.

Host: How so, Disembodied One?

Thand: Because you have demonstrated your complete lack of NeS knowledge. TLTE did not appear on page 21.

Thand's voice begins to grow in tone and resonance, causing the Host to shrink back under his podium.

Thand: The character of The Last True Evil first appeared on page 19, in a latent, undeveloped form. Strictly speaking, the appearance was a mere proxy for the writer behind TLTE to probe the vagaries of the NeS - quite abrasively, I might add - so that the character of relative permanency you see now might flourish. It is impossible to say whether the page 19 incarnation is the same as the p.21 edition, which then continued on through inconsistencies and plot holes to become the TLTE we now know. It is just as impossible to ascertain whether the p.21 TLTE is the same as the version that well-meaning alternate writers penned on p.20 to unknowingly begin the saga of the Russian spy. Regardless, the events of NeShattered saw TLTE - or an incarnation thereof - travel all the way from the metaphysical beginning to the conjectural end of the NeS fractal, so your answer is...and believe me when I say this...patently irrelevant.

The Host is now completely obscured by the podium, whimpering impotently beneath the scope of knowledge presented to him.

Host: Why are you doing this?

Thand: My reasoning is twofold. Firstly, as the foremost scholar of the NeS I despise the promulgation of misrepresented facts about the story. I mean, really...there are enough mistakes in the text itself without you buffoons adding to it!

He pauses, clearing a far-removed throat.

Thand: And the second reason is because TLTE needed a moment to clear his rocket launcher.

Host: What do you-

He, and the podium, explode. TLTE works at his metal bonds for a few moments, freeing himself and turning to his fellow contestants.

TLTE: Niala, the final question on Advance To the Next Level - am I about to shoot you a ridiculous amount of times?

Niala: *hiss*

There is a silver flash, and acidic blood coats the steel walls.

TLTE: For the first time, you are wrong.

Dr. Mammoth: Don't kill me! I'm just the comic relief!

TLTE: I know. Find an escape pod, Doctor. Begin your life again.

Obligingly, the mammoth trots for the door. TLTE picks up the Host's scorched remote, pressing the "Release Dangling Prisoners" button before running for the elevator...

Level 6. Elsewhere.

Miss Fire: Well...I suppose it could be worse.

At that point, their bonds snap loose and they begin to plummet toward the molten steel.

Krig: Miss Fire quiet now.

*From above the great citadel of Helebon it could be viewed that large concave panels had begun to emerge from the base in a circular pattern around the citadel. It appeared as though several blocks around the towering monstrosity were fated to become an enormous parabolic dish. Helebon chuckled to himself as Gebohq trudged at the treadmill.*

Helebon: Keep it up, Geb. You've almost finished with phase 1 of my plan.

Gebohq: Phase 1...? *pant* You mean *pant* I'll have to *pant* do more after this?

Helebon: Oh, don't worry. Phase 2 will be more physical pain than anything else.

Gebohq: Oh, *pant* that's nice.

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

*Qhobeg dropped down from the ceiling into a small crowded room. Formerly the janitorial closet of a great master of the custodial arts who's name may or may not have been Bob, an amazing amount of dust had collected since Helebon had moved into town and done some remodeling. The room was just barely large enough to fit five people. Dalaes just stared as Qhobed made his entrance.*

Dalaes: You know, just because you have camo pants it doesn't mean you suddenly have incredible stealth ability.

Qhobeg: But we needed somebody to scout this place out. Besides, I have some great destiny here, so nothing bad can happen to me unless it's supposed to.

Dalaes: I swear, you people get more deluded as time passes.

Thrawn42689: I sometimes think if they didn't they'd all just hide in a closet.

*The intrepid heroes look around at their surroundings for a moment.*

Antestarr: Right. So, what'd you find?

Qhobeg: Well, the floor above us is swarming with the entirety of the Green Bay Packers. We're talking 2nd stringers, 3rd stringers... I even think they brought the prospective college football players.

Thrawn: Well... uh... I think it's Christmas presents. For Santa.

Ante: Most likely chocolate.

Qhobeg: We're gonna need a plan to get past them.

Ante: If we only had a large cooler filled with frozen Gatorade.

*Young closed her eyes for a moment and held her hands out. A light appeared in front of her, growing until it was roughly cooler-shaped. As the light faded, a cooler full of frozen Gatorade filled the space.*

Dalaes: How did you do that...?

Young: I just asked mother for a present. She decided the request was simple enough, so I got it. I like presents.

Dalaes: Mother...?

Ante: It's a short story that we don't have time to go into now. We need to get to the top where Helebon is so we can fix the world and finish our shopping.

*Antestarr led the heroes down the hall and to the stairwell leading to Packer central. As they reached the top, they looked down the nearest hall and saw the mass of Packers mulling about as though bored. Some were practicing pushing each other around as if at a scrimmage. Others were throwing large chunks of metal around for a lack of footballs. In the center of it all was Mike Sherman, keeping the peace by giving out plays from the new playbook, written by Helebon.*

*Antestarr took note of the whole picture and then pointed to Thrawn42689 followed by pointing at the cooler and then a nearby folding table. He then pointed at a large chunk of metal being tossed back and forth, then to Qhobeg. Finally, he pointed out a large bullhorn to Young and sat, waiting for the perfect moment.*

*It came when the entire team had their backs turned to the stairwell and one of the quarterbacks prepared to throw his chunk of metal. Ante tapped Qhobeg and threw his arm forward, signalling to go. Qhobeg ran forward as the quarterback released his throw. Dodging between random players, he managed to jump up and intercept the throw, almost falling over from being hit in the chest with a large chunk of metal. He then started running around the floor with every player chasing after him.*

*As various Packers dove to try and grab Qhobeg's invisible legs, Thrawn carried the Gatorade over to the folding table, setting it up to look like a refreshing beverage for hard-working players. Young then ran and grabbed the bullhorn. At that moment one of the Packers managed to grab Qhobeg and pull him to the ground. The rest began to dogpile on top of him. Young pressed the "make loud noise" button on the bullhorn followed by yelling into it.*

Young: PACKERS WIN!!

*The team, upon hearing the announcement of their victory, immediately got up off of Qhobeg and rushed toward the Gatorade cooler. Two of them lifted up the cooler and ran over to Mike Sherman, overturning it over his head. The solid block of Gatorade slid out onto his head, knocking him unconscious. The team, confused as to what happened, stood around him and stared as they wondered why the coach was suddenly sleeping soundly.*

Ante: Thrawn, get Qhobeg and run to the elevator!

*The team broke for the elevator, Thrawn carrying the limp and semi-conscious body of Qhobeg. As they crammed in, Ante pushed the "close door" button and they watched as the Packers remained oblivious to their crossing the floor. Ante then pressed the button for the top floor. And then nothing happened.*

Ante: Looks like they've locked the elevators from reaching the top. I guess we'll have to go to the floor below it.

Dalaes: This could be rough then.

Ante: Oh, why's that?

Dalaes: That floor's guarded by the purebloods.

Young: Purebloods?

Dalaes: Pureblooded demons directly from the last circle of hell. Bred in Canada.

*As Ante's party approaches Helebon's lair it appears that things won't be getting easier. Just what might be in store on the floor below the top which conveniently doesn't have a number because we didn't feel like coming up with the number of floors to this facility and they're taking the elevator anyway? And why did that last line have no commas to allow me to breathe? I'm gonna go pass out now.*

Oink oink oink oink oink oink. Squeeeeeeal! Oink!

Oink oink oink oink oink oink squeal oink oink squeeeal oink. OINK! OINK OINK OINK!

SQUEEEEEEEEAL! SQUEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEAL! SQUEEEEAL!

Oink oink oink oink SQUEEEAL!

Oink.

Meanwhile (Nescount... uhh... nescount + 1 = nescount... yeah, I forgot >.>), as Subaru continues to plummit towards the pirana tank...

Subaru: Maybe TLTE was right... maybe people DO care about me...

Subaru: But if that is true, why did he STAB me? We were on good terms, and he really was trying to talk me out of it...

Subaru: Was it all a farce, to let my guard down? If so, then that fact alone makes life not worth living...

Subaru: But what if he was forced, what if he did not want to fight me... because he cared about me...

Subaru: Maybe what I have missed all this time, is that the CHARACTERS believe in me, not the writers... but is that possible?

Subaru: I cannot take that chance, I MUST live, for those who may care for me... whoever they may be...

Subaru: Heads up, guys. Subaru is back, and she is ready for revenge!

Subaru, despite her deep chest wound, begins to formulate a plan on how to escape. Unfortunately, her options seem slim...

Subaru: How can I survive this... there's no way! Piranas, chest wounds, who am I kidding? I am no GOD, I can't survive this!

Subaru: But what would those characters think? That I just gave up?

Subaru: No, I cannot let them believe that... I must... I must live... somehow...

Subaru closed her eyes, concentrating on what she could possibly do to survive. She was mere moments from the tank now. But then, something in her head, just switched on. A change, albiet slight, but a change nonetheless. She felt a new power roar through her body, a power she had never felt before. Had it been there all the time, and she just never felt it? She did not know. But one thing was certain, she was not going to let it go to waste.

Subaru: This is it, the tank is in sight now, I've only got seconds left!

Without really understanding, she channeled this newfound power to her feet, which gave her a sort of attraction to the wall that was flying by her. Her feet quickly met the walls, and soon, she was fighting to get friction, as she continued to plummet.

Subaru: Owowowowowow, I can't stop, I am going too fast...

Not one to give up, she channeled even more power, as much as she could muster, forcing her feet onto that wall with a force that nearly bent the steel. Finally, her feet gained traction, and she came to a stop. So close to the water, she was, that some strands of her hair lay on top of the water.

Subaru: Oh... wow, that was, well, very close... umm, yeah, so... what now?

She stood there, sideways, on the wall, thinking of what to do next. While she probably could walk all the way back up, it would take quite some time.

Subaru: There has to be an elevator around here somewhere. I'll just look around.

Subaru, at that point, suddenly remembered her gaping chest wound. She looked down at it, only to see, it no longer existed... as if it had never happened...

Subaru: It's... gone? Could this be a result of that new power? Interesting, I wonder... I am not immortal, am I?

Not a second later, she trips on a pipe, and falls... sideways... into the wall, cutting her finger.

Subaru: Ow... well, I guess that answers that. There is just so much I don't understand... but that is not important right now. I have to get up there, and talk to Michael. I need to at least try and talk him out of what he is doing... tell him what I have discovered...

And so, Subaru picked herself back up off the flo--... err.. the wall, and continued looking for an elevator... stay tuned for more crazy wall-running antics!

Level 7.

The Command Centre. The neural hub of Michael MacFarlane's simple yet incredibly damaging NeS revolution, the level is a large circular room divided into several hallways of mainframes and supercomputers. All of their subroutines are slaved, of course, into the singularly complicated operation of maintaining the space station itself. At the edge of the far hallways - a series of small glass-encased offices, from which technicians pore over readouts and statistics.

At the far edge of this technological intricacy is a small command deck, led to only by a single steel staircase. Held above all else, it is a platform over which one can rule one's computerised dominion: the location from which one can plan, conceivably, anything at all.

Michael MacFarlane stands atop this command deck, his gifted hands working several computer consoles at once, his earnestly handsome face tense with concentration. Were Losien or TLTE present, they might attest that this was once the endearing expression he wore when telling a particularly difficult joke, or when seriously concentrating on Krig the Viking's laboured speech.

Both Losien and TLTE would agree, however, that those days are long gone. And so too, they would reluctantly admit, has that Michael.

Michael: TECH SUPPORT!

A technician from one of the neighbouring offices springs out of his seat and rushes deferentially to the top of the stairs.

Technician: Sir?

Michael: How long until we are in position?

Technician: Given our current speed...I estimate....ten seconds! Wow! That's two hours ahead of schedule!

He grins to himself, proud of his exceptional work. In response, Michael draws a concealed pistol and blasts the Tech back down the stairs, minus an arm.

Tech: AAAARGH!!

Michael: What do you want, a medal?! Why are we not three hours ahead of schedule?!! Why not FOUR?!

He raises his pistol and fires -

-just as a shadow sweeps across from the side of the room and scoops the Tech out of the line of fire.

A feral grin crosses Michael's face as the stoic figure of The Last True Evil places the injured Tech against a mainframe and turns to face him.

TLTE: This is just...wrong, Michael.

Michael: What is? The reversal of our positions??? Your culpability in my fall to evil?!

He whips the pistol up and fires down at TLTE, who spins his body to duck behind another mainframe. Bullets cascade ineffectually against the side, sparking and causing smoke. Michael hears TLTE's indignant voice carry up to him from behind the damaged terminal.

TLTE: No! Your senseless violence and dedication to irrational goals!

TLTE spins back out from behind the mainframe, Smith and Wessons in hand, firing mercilessly. The withering firepower all but destroys Michael's command deck - finally culminating in a small explosion from the consoles that sends him falling down the stairs. As his head painfully jars against the last step, Michael's inverted gaze meets TLTE's eyeline, and he grins insanely at him.

Michael: Oh, that.

There is none of TLTE's friend in that gaze. None at all. As TLTE stares at him in agonised disbelief, one of the more enterprising technicians takes the opportunity to sneak up behind the Russian and toss a computer monitory at his head. The blow sends TLTE staggering forward, and a horde of vaguely geeky techs leap onto his back, attempting to overwhelm him.

Michael takes the opportunity to pull himself to his feet. He is black paper suddenly, reforming upon the makeshift second level of mainframes that he balances on top of. He then pulls out a small remote control, locates a small red button, and hammers his fist down on it. Instantaneously, the floor below him is engulfed in massive electrical surges that almost choke out the cries of agony from beneath.

So he stands, his edgy grin growing into outright indulgent laughter...a laughter that continues as a black trenchcoat bursts up out from the electrical currents to land next to him. The trenchoat stands and resolves itself into an angered Russian spy.

Michael: What can I say? Worth a shot.

TLTE: I'm going to-

Then he stops, and checks what limited self-control remains of himself. He turns for a crucial moment...and when TLTE looks back, some of his genial heroism has returned to his expression.

TLTE: I don't want to fight you. I want to save you.

Michael: You LIE!

His hands blur to his sides - and then TLTE is leaping backwards onto another row of mainframes as golden shards keen through the air, searching for his heart. TLTE's own sword is drawn as Michael leaps after him, deflecting thrust after thrust as TLTE himself backpedals over scorched machine-tops.

Michael: Besides, even if you wanted to...you'd be working against the Ultimate Convention. Can't you feel it working, even now? Strengthening your resolve...eroding your guilt...resolving your course of action...

TLTE: I don't-

And then his sword brilliantly swipes Absolver's cutlasses to the side, drawing back in a return stroke so swift that Michael is forced to paper-morph across the room, drawing aside to recover.

TLTE looks down at his hands, as though they were distinct entities.

TLTE: How did I...

Michael: By playing the hero. By opposing my villainy. By partaking in the conflict...by bringing the conventions of a story to life!

He laughs, holding his arms up in open honesty. The pose would be more sincere if the two razor-sharp cutlasses didn't adorn his wrists.

Michael: This is what I oppose, TLTE! We might just be words on a page...but we have to believe that we fight, love, exist for ourselves!

TLTE nods in agreement....but then his gaze strays to the blaze of electricity below him. The cruelly slain corpses beneath him. His gaze grows cold as he looks at Michael.

TLTE: You have gone too far to promote your philosophies, Michael. Now you're just another villain for us to kill.

Michael snarls, spinning his swords. He and TLTE meet halfway across the room, atop the rudimentary platform of the supercomputers and terminals, and the duel between them finally reaches a level of intensity comparable to the mental conflict within them both.

His face awash with sporadic white light, Michael strikes tirelessly, never settling into a rhythm or pattern - every new stroke is only common to its predecessor by the volume of its intensity. Using the treacherous battleground to his advantage, Michael becomes a cyclone of blades: forcing TLTE to not only concentrate on the tenuous footing they hold, but on the frantic assault of steel that comes on so harshly it threatens to send them both toppling off the platforms to their doom.

TLTE challenges this onslaught grimly, bringing the full retinue of his combat experience and training to this, the fight of his life. For his life. Against the full force of Michael's hate, few could stand - but TLTE feels a greater sense of purpose surrounding him, permeating his own consciousness, and although it allows him to hold his own in the contest, he feels his control slipping as he draws on its aid. For his own intents and purposes, he fights for Losien. His parries and blocks are manifestations of his own deflected paranoia for her safety. His slashes, lunges, chops: these are representations of his tireless pursuit of her, always forward, never a step backward.

The fight takes them through the centre of the room, around its circumference, leading them finally to a point of no return: TLTE dodges away from an overhead cut from Michael, jumping blindly out onto an isolated terminal. The electricity below still rages. Michael stands on the nearest terminal, his breath ragged and fast, staring intently at TLTE as if he will move at any moment. The pause in battle gives TLTE a moment to recover himself, and he once more understands Michael. Shaking his head sadly, TLTE regards him with pity.

TLTE: Michael, we must stop this! We'll both be killed!

Michael: You don't get it, do you? I've already won!

TLTE: What do you mean?

Michael: You still have no idea where we are?

TLTE: What-

He turns his head, looking out of the viewscreen -

at Earth.

TLTE: No...

Thousands of tiny pods are detaching from the space station, looming large in the background of the picture, and flying towards the blue-green planet.

Michael: The scorned NeSians have been returned to their rightful place! It's just you and me now, TLTE! DIE!

And then, before TLTE can do anything at all, Michael leaps over to his terminal and swings his blades downward. TLTE's own sword meets and clashes against them, holding both combatants in a blade-lock just as the terminal starts to sway backwards under their combined weight-

And just as the entire terminal topples backwards into electric death, TLTE's free hand strays into his coat, drawing and firing his grapping hook up at the ceiling-

Michael: NO!

-but his hands are both occupied by blades, and so it is that as the terminal falls, TLTE is drawn up to the roof - just as he plummets into the raging currents below.

TLTE is drawn lightning-fast up to the roof, straining his arm as he smashes up against the ceiling. In the kickback, he nearly drops his blade, but he somehow manages to secure it to his belt. His trenchcoat slips from his shoulders and falls back down to the completely devastated Command Centre below. In great pain but barely holding on, TLTE spares a final sad look at the fallen Michael-

but Michael is nowhere to be seen. Only TLTE's fallen coat and the remains of the Technicians remain.

TLTE: This isn't over, Michael...

And gasping painfully with the effort, TLTE squeezes himself into the nearby ventilation system.

Level 8

The Last True Evil squeezes around a corner in the ventilation system, where he finds another split in the vents, going upwards. He crouches under it and notices a grate: now the only thing between him and a floor closer to Losien. Punching the grate off, The Last True Evil begins to climb out when, to his surprise, an almost skeletal hand grabs his own and pulls him up.

owner of skeletal hand: Hello, TLTE.

Stepping back in defense, The Last True Evil quickly recognizes the voice to be that of Semievil's, who is outfitted in his usual dark grey trenchcoat. Nearby him appears to be a shorter man with long brown hair and a tuff of chin hair, garbed in a dark green overcoat. The Last True Evil identifies him as Masetto. There is also another man on the other side of Semievil, clad in dark robes, his hood covering his face, the identity of which The Last True Evil is uncertain. There is a moment where TLTE relaxes in comfort, but remembering where he was, he continued to hold with his defensive position.

Mase: Hey, TLTE. We got word about what was happening, and so here we are. Sorry we couldn't be here sooner.

The Last True Evil looks slightly confused towards Masetto. His hand draws closer to his blade.

Sem: It wasn't until the station arrived over Earth that we had any opportunity for boarding. Where are the other heroes? Do you know where Michael is?

TLTE: Why do you want to know? And who's he? *points at the black-robed man*

Sem: That's Arbiter. He's with us. And we want to help you stop the new villian of the week from carrying out his evil plans of doom and destruction, of course.

Mase: Come on, we're hereos! Why else would we be here?

TLTE: Last time I saw you, Semievil, you turned evil with your sister in support of the Ever-ending Plot prior to the squaring of the NeS.

Sem: Fuq, man, I was under mind-control!

TLTE: And Masetto, the last useful thing I remember you doing... well, anything really was prior to the use of the Hall of Heroes.

Mase: Hey now!

Sem: Come now, Mase. You were pretty lazy.

Mase: ...I guess.

TLTE: And this "Arbiter?"

Arbiter begins to reach under his robes when Mase sureptitiously holds a hand to stop him.

Sem: Before your time.

TLTE: Why should I trust any of you? Your writers certainly left you long ago.

Sem: Should I remind you that you were one of the greatest NeS villians for over half of the NeS thread? Might I also point out that being a character without a writer does not make one evil.

Mase: Besides, this floor seems to be crawling with defenses. We were just on the floor above, and we came down looking for the others.

There is a moment of stillness, then The Last True Evil relaxes.

TLTE: The other heroes were tied up on the previous floor below.

Sem: Well then let's get to them!

Semievil and Masetto started heading in the direction behind The Last True Evil when they are stopped by his hand.

TLTE: They'll catch up soon enough. We must get moving and save Losien.

Mase: But the others--

TLTE: They'll be fine!

With great hesitation, Semievil and Masetto turn back around.

Sem: This way, then.

A door opens to the side, and inside is what seems to be a maze-like area of nasty turrents, laser trip mines, and flying robotic sentinels which, while matching the dull appearance of what else of the space station's eigth level had been seen, was reminiscent of the Forbidden Fortress of Forbiddeness. Masetto enters first, and Semievil gestures The Last True Evil through. The two enter, with Arbiter silently following in the rear. The doors close.

As The Last True Evil avoids the assortment of traps with the others, his instincts as a spy could not help but notice a few things wrong. First, there is the group he was with at the present. Besides the suspicion that still hangs on his mind, he notices the weight of the group was off. He has been accustomed to the weight that was standard with large groups as they moved about, slowing them down, but he can swear that this time, the slow speed has been deliberate. The Last True Evil also notices the positions the three of them keep around him: Masetto always in front and a little to his right, Semievil always by his left side, and Arbiter trailing behind, also a little to the right. What bothers The Last True Evil most, however, is how competant they all seem in their surroundings. The NeS heroes weren't suppose to be this smart, he thought... perhaps he isn't giving them enough credit, though. Perhaps his natural paranoia is getting the better of him. In any case, there is not much he can do at the moment but follow.

Besides, Semievil and Masetto have been talking about the "good old days" of NeS...

Sem: ...and remember back when we met at the Never-ending State University, TLTE? We were both taking that hiding class. Oh the irony, seeing each other in a hiding class.

TLTE: Yeah... was that on page 42?

Sem: I don't think we recalled it when we were going through the yearbooks then.

Mase: And that time we thought we'd be stuck with Poster Geb in the Arena back on page 24?

TLTE: Oh thank Mother Russia that didn't last long!

Sem: And that time on page 31 when we found out that whole adventure under the Bermuda Triangle to rescue The Machine That Goes Bing from the villians converting the Arena into the Legion of Spookay was all just a huge holographic trick?

TLTE: ...I think I was on vacation then.

Sem: Really?

Mase: That was one of the other clones, Sem.

Sem: Oh right.

Just then, as they enter a suspiciously familiar hallway, Subaru starts running towards them. She stops to look at The Last True Evil, then the others, then The Last True Evil again before continuing to run in the other direction and around a corner. The Last True Evil stands puzzled.

TLTE: Didn't I run her through on the fourth level?...

Mase: *to Sem* Was that Subaru? What's she doing here?

Sem: *to Mase* I don't know!

Mase: Why is she running to the upper floors? This can't be good. We need to--

Sem: --continue with our job.

TLTE: What are you two whispering about?

Mase: What? Oh, nothing.

Sem: Yeup, nothing.

TLTE: This is taking too long. We should have found our way up to the next level by now.

Mase: Uh, yes. How very strange...

Arbiter sweeps soundlessly behind The Last True Evil, drawing his hand inside his dark robes once again, mere inches behind him...

CoolMatty: THERE YOU ARE!

The Last True Evil spins around, to see CoolMatty, Miss Fire, Krig the Viking and Pingu on the other side of the hallway. Arbiter is now behind The Last True Evil, nearby Masetto. Semievil is still standing relatively close to The Last True Evil. CoolMatty and the others approach TLTE.

CM: Thanks for leaving us behind to nearly DIE in that pit of molten steel!

TLTE: *waves hand dismissively* You're fine. I trust in your ability to stay alive, but you still have much to learn if you think you were in any real danger there.

Pingu: Tied over lava with a crazy Viking who wants to EAT you is plenty danger enough for me, thanks!

Miss Fire: Well we better get to--oh. My. God. Is that...you?

Arbiter, underneath the concealing hood, is still showing heavy signs of concern.

Miss Fire: It is you, Arbi! Eeeeeeeeee!

Miss Fire sprints and nearly tackles Arbiter in her hug. Krig follows her.

Miss Fire: It's been (p)AGES since I last saw you! Remember when you were dueling Gebohq?

Arbiter: Uh...

Krig: Old friends here with Krig! Even lazy one who bum off other heroes' food!

Mase: Yeah, that's me, I guess...

TLTE: This isn't right at all.

CM: You're darn right it isn't! We get left behind with all the work while you parade on your "hero's" quest for Losien--

TLTE: No, listen to me, CoolMatty! Sem, Mase... they're working for Michael. I know it.

Semievil turns towards Masetto and Arbiter.

Pingu: Why weren't they attacking you then?

TLTE: I don't know. They must have been waiting for... no. They were stalling.

The Last True Evil tries to make a quick dash around everyone and down the hallway, when Semievil appears to block his path.

Sem: I'm sorry, TLTE. We can't let you pass.

Semievil, Masetto, and Arbiter now form a barrier between The Last True Evil (with the others) and what appears to be the elevator. There are two doorways on either side between the two parties.

TLTE: I will kill you if you stand in my way.

Sem: Hah! I have the power now to have whatever power I want! And to look dead sexeh too!

There is a moment of silence as everyone looks at Semievil with skeptisism.

Sem: ...ok, so I don't.

Semievil waves his hand as the two doors opens.

Sem: But there are still a few tricks in these old bones.

With that, Semievil holds out his hand in a choking grip on the air, and The Last True Evil begins gasping for air, futily grabbing at his neck in hopes of escape. He is violently thrown through one of the doors, where Semievil follows. In reflex, CoolMatty, Miss Fire, and Krig charge for the doorway to help The Last True Evil when Arbiter moves in their way. He juts his hands out, and a stream of white energy slams all three through the other door, where Arbiter follows. Pingu is left alone in the hallway, with Masetto, who is smirking and looking through the two open doors. Pingu looks with half-fear and half-confusion as Masetto begins to dance and sing non-sensical words...

What will happen next? Will these characters really fight to the death? Find out next time on Dragonball Z--I mean--The Never-ending Story Thread Squared!

*Due to the graphic nature of the following post, reader discretion is advised. And we used spoiler tags.*

*The elevator creeped its way up to the penultimate floor of Helebon's citadel. A muzak version of some long forgotten 80's monster ballad played through the speakers as the heroes within grew tense with the anticipation of facing off against true demons. Finally, the elevator began to slow, giving the passengers the lightheaded feeling of a change of vertical momentum. Feeling this, Dalaes flipped the stop switch on the floor selection panel and worked his way to the front of the elevator.*

Antestarr: Why'd you stop the elevator? I've been working on a plan all the way up and I figure with fly-by-the-seat-of-your-pants leadership we'll make it just fine.

Dalaes: It's true that you may be able to direct your friends there in such a manner that we could get past the purebloods, but it would take too long. Time is not a luxury we have anymore.

Qhobeg: So, we should run past them and hope they don't catch us?

Dalaes: No. Leave everything to me. But you may wish to cover the child's eyes.

*As Dalaes flipped the elevator stop switch back the humanish parts of his body began to darken. His normal hand twisted into a razor sharp claw and his muscles seemed to grow, as though their mass suddenly increased. His hair appeared to harden into spines and became blacker than the rest of his body. In the reflection of the brushed steel elevator door, a faint red glow seemed to appear about where his eyes were.*

*The elevator slid its last few inches to its destination. With an audible ding, the doors slid open, revealing a room interspersed with ornate pillars. The pillars themselves bore human features, some with dumbfounded faces, others in a grimace of sheer terror. No pillar showed an ounce of joy.*

*Patrolling amongst the pillars was a group of 7 pureblood demons. Each easily stood 8 feet tall with menacing, holed wings protruding from their backs and crimson skin as though they had just bathed in human blood. Each wore the same outfit: metal leggings and a leather harness from the waist over their shoulders, with a strip of leather across their bare chests, connecting the shoulder straps. The only apparent weaponry of the purebloods was a single dagger in a holster on the left shoulder strap, emblazoned with the heraldric symbol of Helebon.*

*Dalaes stepped forward from the elevator and the closest demon approached him. Sounds escaped the demon's mouth in a long forgotten forbidden tongue as it reached its right arm across its chest.*

*Antestarr covered Young's eyes while Qhobeg covered her ears.*

*Dalaes quickly grabbed the demon's arm and jump flipped over its head while holding onto it. A loud pop filled the hall as he pulled the arm around, freeing the shoulder from the confines of its socket. He then grabbed the arm with his other hand and spun around, raising the demon from the ground with the centrifugal force. He released the demon, which flew until it imbedded itself into a nearby pillar, displacing a white sandy material around the impact area.*

*Two more demons closed in quickly on Dalaes. One demon attempted to grab Dalaes from behind and hold him in place while the second charged him with one clawed arm prepared to thrust. Dalaes flipped the demon that grabbed him over his shoulder and into the path of the second demon, causing the thrusting arm to impale the first. Without hesitation, Dalaes unsheathed a blade from the small of his back and thrust it through the outstretched arm. He then continued the movement by jump-flipping over the demon pair while pulling the sword, cutting the impaled demon nearly in two and removing half the other demon's arm at the shoulder.*

*As Dalaes landed, a demon kicked out his legs from under him. Bringing the sword around while falling, Dalaes cut cleanly through the demon's knees, removing both its legs and causing it to fall to the ground, screaming in agony. Dalaes, now on the floor, threw his sword at an approaching demon, embedding it directly between the creature's eyes.*

*Dalaes rolled onto his stomach and pushed himself up in time to evade a demon attempting to stomp on his head. The demon, having put too much force into his stomp, had stuck his foot into the floor, and Dalaes thrust a claw into the demon's abdomen. He ducked a swipe by the final unharmed demon and grabbed one of the legs on the ground with his free claw. Spinning around, he brought the leg to bear on the side of the demon's skull, landing it with dull thump and sending the demon sprawling across the floor. He pulled his one claw free and dropped the leg he had just swung and walked over to the demon he had just sent across the floor. It muttered words in the foul tongue and seemed to plead for its life as Dalaes placed his foot on the creature's neck. The final sound from the demon was a crunch.*

*He walked over to the demon with the sword stuck in its head and pulled it out. He sheathed the sword after wiping the demon blood from the blade and started toward the demon imbedded in the pillar. Pulling a small shiny object from his waist, he pointed it at the demon. The demon's gaze turned to one of pure fear as Dalaes pressed a small button and a beam of darkness, deeper than the pitch that was his hair, stabbed through the demon and the pillar, seeming to cause both to wither. He then shut the device off and replaced it on his belt.*

(Summary: Lots of violent stuff happened)

Dalaes (reverting to his semi-human form): Come, the work is done. I've cleared the path.

Ante: And what of the ones you've left writhing in agony on the floor?

Dalaes: They've caused an eternity of suffering. It's only fitting that they suffer in turn.

Qhobeg (to Thrawn): He's not exactly the nicest guy we've met, huh?

Dalaes: Now, we must hurry. We should be able to find Helebon just up these stairs.

*Dalaes motioned towards a large elaborate stairway. The stairway, upon reaching the wall, spiraled in both directions around the hall, meeting at a massive doorway. Qhobeg ripped off a piece of his shirt to tie around Young's eyes to try and prevent her from seeing the horror of the hall. As the heroes approached the stairway, Ante dragged his finger across one of the pillars and then tasted the tip of his finger.*

Ante: Salt....

Level 8.

The internal door to the machine supplies room flies open and TLTE topples to the floor, skidding across its polished surface and lying still. For a moment, he stares disbelievingly at the blood-soaked, exhausted figure staring back up at him-

-but then an emaciated hand grasps his shoulder, pulling him roughly to his feet. Semievil stands before him, regarding him and the small rectangular room around him with the same mild interest.

Semievil: Yes, this will do nicely...this shall be your new home, TLTE, until Michael's plans reach fruition.

TLTE: I don't understand, Sem! You haven't fallen for Michael's propaganda too, have you?


Semievil: It's not propaganda, TLTE. You know that as well as I do-

TLTE takes the distraction of Semievil explaining himself as an opportunity and his hand flies to his scabbard: but Semievil is faster, and before the steel even clears its sheath he raises his hand, sending TLTE flying thirty feet to smash up against the wall. TLTE remains pinned there, struggling against the unseen forces his opponent commands...

But for his part, Semievil acknowledges TLTE's attempt to murder him with the barest of smiles, and continues speaking as though covering his breach of etiquette.

Semievil: -and I have yet to hear a convincing rebuttal from you or anyone who would defend your actions.

TLTE: Wait, wait..."your actions"?!

Semievil: I am, of course, referring to the actions perpetrated by those so-called responsible writers, senior writers, those who could at any time have patched up the storylines of the lost NeS souls.

TLTE: But - but I'm not a writer! I have no control over the story!

His hand strains downward to his belt, where he withdraws a back-up Colt .45. Unable to properly aim with the crushing telekinetic force, TLTE literally shoots from the hip-

-and in response, Sem raises his OTHER hand, stopping the bullets in mid-flight. They hold there in the air, shuddering slightly as if keening to resume their lethal flight...but Sem's power holds.

Semievil: You may not be a writer, TLTE, but you are a character! You do have control over the story...you are, if anything, closer to influencing the story than the writers because you are a part of that story!

TLTE: But what if we aren't making our destiny? What if we are just puppets for the writers to usher around at their whim?

Semievil: Do you really believe that?

He looks hard at TLTE, who tries...but fails to return his gaze.

TLTE: I don't.

Semievil: And why is that?

TLTE: Because if I did believe in it...I'd go insane.

Semievil: Then prove you control your destiny. To me. To yourself.

The pressure against TLTE's body is bringing him closer to losing consciousness, but still he resists.

TLTE: How?

Semievil: Stop me. Go on to kill MacFarlane, or redeem him...to save Losien, or to lose her. But you must defeat me first.

And as Sem talks, TLTE's eyes roll back into his head. With the unique power his foe commands, the Spymaster realises his only hope is to draw upon his own fledgling supernatural ability - his manipulation of metaphysics, hastily taught to him by Arkng Thand.

Semievil: ...I stand in your path, TLTE...an independent force of will, unchecked by any writer. Can you raise your own will, your own destiny against me, and prevail?! CAN YOU?!

But in his initiate stage, TLTE cannot raise any significant force against Semievil. He could barely make a dent in his enemy's defenses. In the end, all he can do is twist the NeS fabric slightly - enough to make the door to the room slam violently shut.

It is all he needs to do.

Sem: What-

And as he turns to look behind him, his left hand dips slightly. The hand holding TLTE up. TLTE quickly draws his sword and throws it, overhand style, at Sem. The throw is too hasty to cause any significant damage, but the blade lodges in Sem's lower thigh-

Sem: AAGH!

-and he grabs the blade to pull it out.

With both hands.

Free of their imprisonment, an entire Colt .45 clip resumes its journey of discovery into Semievil. The result is sudden, painful, and bathed in red.

TLTE: Oh no, Sem!

He rushes to the fallen man's side. Fortunately, there are no bullets lodged in Sem's head - but a few have hit him in the chest and abdomen, and the piecemeal armour he was wearing was only sufficient to stop the wounds from becoming fatal.

Sem: TLTE...

TLTE: You're hurt, Sem. Don't move.

Sem: I...have no intention...of going anywhere...

TLTE: I need to get you medical attention.

Sem: I'll be...fine.....go. Finish this.

TLTE: All right, tovarish. Crawl into an escape pod - I don't think this station is going to exist for much longer.

He moves to stand - but Sem's skeletal hand grasps his lapel gently.

Sem: You und...erstand, right? I...had to try to....stop you...to show you....

TLTE: I understand, comrade. Thank you.

Sem: Arbiter....not so....nice....

His head lolls back and he passes out. TLTE's face lights with recognition at the name.

TLTE: Arbiter! Creepy cloaked guy! Right!

He gets up to go, and freezes. Music wafts into the room from somewhere close.

TLTE: Is that..."La Bamba"?

Level 4

The air is now filled with clangs and the occational sizzle from the fighters. Qwerty had managed to grab a metal pole from one of the various machines around and was using it to parry Tods sweeping attacks. Tod, for his part, was using constant, fast, but strong attacks, and keeping Qwerty almost continually off balance, and leaving him very little room to attack with his magic.

Qwerty: So, let me get *clang* this straight. *clang clang* sizzle You're only fighting *clang* me because *clang* sizzle *clang clang* you're bored?

Tod: Pretty much sizzle *clang* I don't really care *clang* about the lack of writer thing *clang clang clang* sizzle *clang* I've been around long enough that *clang clang* I don't care sizzle *clang clang clang* about a few pages that i'm not in.

Qwerty: Really? *clang* So exactly how long sizzle *clang* have you been around?

During this conversation, Tod Has steadily increased the power of his attacks, so that now he is pushing Qwerty slowly but steadily towards the edge of the cog. A dizzying drop lies beyond.

Tod: Well, i'm not *clang clang* exactly sure. So many *clang* sizzle *clang* pages, i've rather lost track. *clang clang clang clang clang clang* sizzle *clang clang* Rather near the beginning, though. *clang*

Qwerty: *clang clang* Now that's interest-agh!

With a final powerful thrust, Tod pushes Qwerty off the edge. He falls for a few seconds, and then his boots suddenly ignite, sending Qwerty up to a catwalk higher up, where he lands neatly

Qwerty Yes! I knew these things would come in handy!

Tod looks up at Qwerty with a look part curiosity, part dissapointment that his plan failed, and part relief that it wasn't going to be quite that easy.

Tod Impressive.

Qwerty: Thank you. Made them myself, you know. woking on a space station can be quite hazardous.

Tod: so i can guess. But enough of this chit-chat. Let's continue our fight, shall we?

With this Tod launches himself across the thirt foot gap to land next to a rahter suprised Qwerty.

Qwerty: Also impressive.

Tod: Thank you *clang*

Qwerty: So where *clang clang* sizzle did you learn to do that? *clang* sizzle *clang clang* sizzle No normal person could. sizzle *clang* Come to think of it *clang clang clang* Neither could any *clang clang* of the heroes. sizzle

Tod: The force *clang clang clang* is a powerful ally. sizzle *clang*

Qwerty: The force? Didn't we *clang* sizzle *clang* stop using that *clang clang* back when this sizzle *clang clang* stopped being an arcade game knock-off? *clang clang clang clang* sizzle *clang clang clang*

Tod: I told you *clang clang* i've been around awhile sizzle DAMN! That hurt!

A lucky shot of electicity manages to sear Tod's left flank. As Tod doubles over in pain, Qwerty re-ignites his boots and flies toward a higher catwalk. As he's flying, he takes a small brown ball from a pocket on his belt and tosses it at Tod. Tod looks at the ball as it lands at his feet. He looks at it for a second, confused. Then his eyes open wide and he lunges across a gap to land on anoutehr cog just before the ball explodes, sending pieces of catwalk everywhere.

Tod: That was a cheap shot.

Qwerty: So? Who ever said I fight fair? I fight to win.

Tod: Well, that makes two of us, then.

Tod extends his hand toward Qwerty, palm up. Qwerty looks on for a second with intrest. However, nothing happens, and so, sneering, he starts to look through his belt for more weapons.

Suddenly, the catwalk begins to shudder. Qwerty looks up at Tod, and the runs for an adjacent platform. Tod closes his fist and the catwalk is torn violently from its supports to fall towards the bottom of the level. Qwerty just manages to grab onto the otehr platform before the catwalk falls too far. Igniting his boots once again, Qwerty propells himself onto the pltform. However, just as he lands, the boots are ripped off his feet and follow the catwalk towards the bottom. Qwerty gets up and glares at Tod.

Qwerty: Now why'd you do and do that? Those took me a long time to build!

Tod: Eh. They were getting annoying.

Qwerty: Annoying? Oh, its on now.

In that hallway in the Jupiter Space Station, Pingu stares up and a confused-looking Masetto.

Pingu: Sooo...

Masetto: Um... this wasn't part of the plan...

Pingu: Yeah. So, um... aren't we supposed to be fighting or something?

Masetto: I think so. But fighting isn't really my thing.

Pingu: Sooo... no fighting?

Masetto: Naw. But -- we could have a debate about music genres!

Pingu: I dunno, that doesn't sound very dramatic.

Masetto: No, really. See, I enjoy punk rock, but lots of people think Green Day is punk. They're clearly pop rock!

Pingu: What? Don't be absurd, Green Day practically invented punk rock!

Masetto: Hah! Don't go using that old canard on me! The real inventor of punk rock was...

And now we hastily switch scenes to our third group of Space Station heroes, for fear of being forced to listen to a debate about punk rock. Ugh. I can feel my brain cells dying as we speak. But yes, as I was saying, in the next room are Cool Matty, Miss Fire, and Krig the Viking, being confronted by a certain guy named Arbiter. Let's listen in!

Miss Fire: Arbi, why are you doing this?

Arbiter: I'm a Super-Saiyin Sith Lord! I'm one of the most evil beings in existence!

Miss Fire: But you were so nice when we first met!

Arbiter: I'll be honest. I never really liked you.

Miss Fire: But... but... those secret glances... those private shared smiles... they meant nothing?

Arbiter: No, not really. I was just bored, and I figured I'd have a little fun.

CM: Yeah, um, guys, this is all very romantic and all, but who the heck is this guy?

Miss Fire: This is Arbiter!

CM: Who?

Krig: Arbee-tor!

Arbiter: Wait, you know me? Who are you?

Krig: I am Krig the Viking!

Arbiter: Have we ever met? How do you know me?

Krig: Um... Krig not know. Krig just hear Fire lady say name.

Arbiter: Oh.

CM: I still don't know who this guy is, people...

Arbiter: This bores me. DIE!

From the depths of his cloak Arbiter whips out a blue-white lightstaff and ignites it, lunging at our three heroes with twirling energy blades of death. Miss Fire dives out of the way, and Krig manages to fall over just right, avoiding the attacks. CM, on the other hand, takes the full brunt of the attack, parrying blow for blow and just barely managing to defend himself with his fire-magic. The dark room is lit up with blue-white light, flashing and sparking in fits. Cool Matty is driven backwards foot by foot, but he can't seem to find a weak spot in Arbiter's defenses.

Arbiter: I am impressed. I've not fought someone with such skill since I received... this!

Arbiter throws back his hood, finally revealing his face. It's a big mass of scar tissue, pulsating and red. Cool Matty looks away in horror, and Arbiter uses his advantage to strike--

Shots ring out, pelting Arbiter's lightstaff and sending it flying. Arbiter turns around to see Miss Fire standing there, guns smoking.

Miss Fire: Don't you just hate it when the guy you have a crush on turns out to be a jackass?

Arbiter's shocked expression twists into an evil grin as he cracks his knuckles in anticipation.

Arbiter: This has been somewhat amusing, babe, but I have not even begun to fight.

Just then, behind Arbiter, Cool Matty propells a fireball toward his enemy. Arbiter, without looking, unleashes a massive blue-white energy beam from his hand, consuming the fireball and sending CM flying, smashing through a wall. With a roar of anger, Arbiter turns his deadly energy beam on Miss Fire...

By Jove! A cliffhanger! How exciting! Actually, not really, I think the writer just got tired of writing and decided not to resolve the situation. But whatever the case, the only way to find out what happens is to stay tuned to the Neeevveeerrr-eeennndddiiinng Stooooooryyyyy.

I mean *ahem*, the Never-ending Story. Sorry 'bout that. Got carried away.

Subaru, finally finding a functioning elevator, travels to the top floor, level 10.

Subaru: I don't even know what I am going to say to him, what can I say?!

The elevator beeps, and the doors slide open. Michael is seated in a throne seat, not too unlike the one shown in Return of the Jedi. Except, well, for the pink. What the hell... everything is pink!!! What kind of artistic "mastermind" designed this place anyway?!

Michael: I believe that would be me... Do you wish to file a complaint? I am sure I can find a reasonable solution to your issue... *Pulls out the twin cutlasses*

Uhh, roight, I'll be leaving it to you then...

Subaru: Michael! I need to talk with you!

Michael: Subaru, what are you doing here? Shouldn't you be fighting those worthless heroes?

Subaru: Michael, you have to stop this. It isn't the right th-

Michael: SILENCE! I should have known. Of course you wouldn't have the courage to fight them. Oh well, I guess I shall dispose of you also...

Michael whips a cutlass at Subaru, and immediately runs towards her. Subaru, unconciously, dodges and catches the blade in her hand, using her newfound power to stop it in her palm. She then prepares for his first attack.

Subaru: I should have known that you would not hear me out! I will do everything in my power to stop you, Michael...

Michael: Good, because it will take everything in your power to stop me!

Michael swings his other cutlass at Subaru. The attack is easily deflected by Subaru, but oddly enough, not by her sword. In the base of her hands sits a small layer of pure energy, with a slight blue glow. The sword makes contact with this layer of energy, and repelled away from Subaru. Her other hand, clutching the thrown cutlass, makes a stabbing move for his chest. In a show of fast reaction time, Michael rotates away from the attack, flowing with his own cut he previously executed.

Without taking a breath, Michael brings the cutlass around, and makes contact with Subaru's cutlass. Her cutlass is forced out of her hand, into the air. Michael maneuvers around her, catching the blade as it fell to the ground. Subaru suddenly snaps back to the battle, and rolls foward, just in time to dodge a dual-bladed attack directed at her head.

Michael: Your new powers are impressive, Subaru. But you will not last much longer.

Subaru: Ha! I have only begun to fight!

Michael: I sure would hope so. I want a bit of entertainment while I wait for that slow piece of lard to get up here.

Subaru switches tactics at this remark, and attacks Michael. Just mere moments before she reaches Michael, she bounces up and over, and a kunai (small throwing dagger) appears in her hand. She lands behind Michael, and moves to stab him in the back. He spins with incredible speed, deflecting the kunai away, and attacking again with his cutlasses.

Forced back into the defensive, Subaru pulls out every stop, many she did not know she could perform. In the matter of 15 seconds, over 100 attacks fly from Michael at Subaru, who deftly deflects and dodges each one. At the end of this barrage, she kicks high up into his abdomen, raising him slightly. He backs off in pain, grabbing his chest.

Michael: Your powers have gone from impressive to irritating, Subaru. I will no longer hold back my powers for the sake of entertainment.

Subaru: Must be hard to hold up all that ego, Michael. No wonder you are so grouchy...

Michael does not offer a reply, but explodes into a cloud of black papers. The papers whip around Subaru with intensive speed. Michael then materializes behind Subaru, before she realizes what had even occured. He swings a cutlass right into her side.

Subaru: Aaaagh!!!!!!!!

Michael does not wait for a counter attack, and strikes again. He brings both cutlasses to bear this time, one after the other. Subaru works through the pain, and manages to deflect the first cutlass. The other is almost deflected by her hand also, but she is unable to bring her hand up in time to stop it; hindered by her wound. The attack lands a deep gash into her arm.


Subaru: Ahhh!!!!

No longer able to defend herself because of the pain, Subaru falls to the floor, and scoots away from Michael fruitlessly.

Michael: Now you see what real power the sidekicks have. Too bad you realize this only as you die.

Michael raises his cutlasses above his head, and begins to bear them down upon a horrified Subaru.

Find out next time if a convenient plot device will save her, on the NEVER-ENDING STORY!

Level 4

Qwerty has redoubled his magical attack, bursts of electrity flrying from his hands. Tod swipes them away, almost casually with his magical sickle. The air crackles with the smell of ozone. Qwerty smirkk

Qwerty: Tell me, Tod... Do androids dream of electric sheep?

Qwerty reaches for a button far back on his belt

Tod: What has Philip K. Dick git to do with anything?

Tod takes a wide sweep at Qwerty's midsection, which he barely dodges.

Qwerty: Whoo! I'm not really sure, but these guys might.*pressing the button*

Suddenly a shaft opens up to Tod's left revealing a dark corridor. Something steps into the light.

Tod: You've got to be kidding me.

Qwerty: Sorry, no. My Cyber-ewes should keep you busy for a while.




(more later)

Level 8.

His enemy defeated, TLTE rushes out into the corridor, his military saber raised-

Pingu: You're telling me you've never even HEARD of Marvin Gaye???

Masetto: Doesn't ring a bell.

TLTE regards the two for a moment, sitting on the floor and sharing musical influences.

TLTE: I don't want to know.

He runs past them, slamming open the other door in the corridor and leaping into an action pose.

TLTE: Ha HA!

In response, Arbiter terminates his killing blast a moment before it hits Miss Fire. He then aims - this time at TLTE - and blasts HIM instead, launching him back out of the doorway.

CM: NOW!

The battered heroes all leap up and envelop Arbiter in a brutal display of their most lethal force: bullet, blade and magical evocation...but Arbiter does little then stand rooted to the spot, still peering out the door to see if TLTE will return.

At this crucial moment of distraction, Krig calmly steps over to Arbiter and makes a sort of poking action into his robes. His Achilles' Heel discovered, Arbiter lets out a strangled cry and drops to the floor, writhing in what can only be a display unbearable pain.

Miss Fire: Fascinating...how did you manage that, little Norseman?!

Krig shrugs amicably.

Krig: Krig just trying to get Arbee-tor's attention.

The rest of the group stare at him disbelievingly. Krig becomes incensed by the attention.

Krig: Well, can anyone else tell Krig time?!

As he says this, TLTE limps back in through the doorway, looking slightly dazed and more than a little scorched but otherwise no worse for wear.

Miss Fire: Are you going to be OK, TLTE?

TLTE: You get hit with one death ray, Fire, and you've experienced them all.

The heroes all conglomerate in a loose circle.

Krig: Ooh! Krig like team huddle!

CM: Thanks for your help back there, TLTE. Whenever I need someone to burst in and get violently ejected from combat, I'll speed-dial you.

TLTE: Sticks and stones, mageling. Sticks and stones.

At once, his tone becomes more serious.

TLTE: Now I know that I've been rushing ahead during our time here, and I haven't really been paying much attention to the team effort - but Losien is just ahead!

Krig: Lohsee! Lohsee!!!

He smiles broadly beneath his ample beard, clearly having a lot of affection for Geb's kindly sister.

TLTE: That's right, comrade. We're within a stone's throw of the final objective, and I owe you all a debt of gratitude. Back in the dreamstate, you all took an oath to help me - some of you doing so at risk to your loved ones' safety -

He casts a significantly grateful glance at CM.

TLTE: -and all of you at risk to your own. Once again, thank you. But in one aspect of this mission, we have failed. Michael has deployed his army on Earth.

Miss Fire: What?! How do you know of this?

TLTE: He revealed it to me when I confronted him a floor ago. I saw the ships with my own eyes, travelling down to the planet...

CM: What now? Do we have to go to Earth and do battle with an entire army of scorned characters?

TLTE: Well, considering that Helebon's forces have overrun our planet as it is, we are facing a fight no matter who prevails.

Miss Fire: All right, then - what's the plan?

TLTE draws from his dark combat pants a small box, itself pitch black in colour. CM's mage-like senses detect powerful magic emissions from within.

TLTE: I have lost my coat, and with it my limitless supply of weaponry...but I have remaining my Smith and Wesson, my officer's sword, and this: a plot-hole generator!

Krig: Plot hole bad.

TLTE: Thank you, Krig.

CM: Ahh yes, the plot hole generator...a variant of Gebohq's plot-hole pistol, right?

TLTE: Exactly correct. The space station's controls are already heavily damaged from my battle with Michael on the lower decks - all we need to do is set this up on the next level and it will generate a flaw in the basic continuity of the NeS, effectively blowing this space station to smithereens. Great fun![/i]

Miss Fire: Whoa, whoa...we haven't agreed to do anything yet! This Michael - he's some kind of ghost of the NeS? I mean, how do we fight something like that?! And that's not even mentioning his lackey, the unstoppable black freak that nearly killed us all on the Demonrock!

CM: She's right, you know. This could be over our heads. It's certainly over this midget Viking's.

Krig: Krig thank Matty for kind words.

TLTE: Listen...none of you have to do anything, it's true. You can all swipe an escape pod and leave - if I weren't a crazy drunk relic of the Cold War, I would do the same. But I'm going on to save the love of my life and the sister of the NeS Wielder, and there's 2 bad guys in my way!

He looks at them all imploringly.

TLTE: Help me even the odds....please?

CM looks at him for a long moment, then smiles.

CM: I'll stand with you, Russian. But if Mimiru ever needs anything, you'd better be there!

Miss Fire: You draw unlikely friends to your side, Spymaster. But I'll help you if I can.

TLTE smiles at both of them, then looks down at Krig, who appears to be asleep on his feet.

TLTE: What do you say, Master Viking? Help save the day?

Krig suddenly awakens from of his nap and looks sheepishly at TLTE.

Krig: Krig just resting eyes. Can we stop talking and go get Lohsee now?

TLTE laughs at him, then claps him on the back.

TLTE: Of course, comrade. Let's go!

They run out the door, high-fiving and cheering. Krig's indignant voice suddenly booms out.

Krig: Hey! Matty making fun of Krig?!

*With a reverberation that shook the foundation of the Earth, the final panel surrounding Helebon's Citadel latched into place. From orbit, the parabolic display was reminiscent of what was once lauded as the greatest superweapon of all time. Helebon chuckled a bit as he unhooked Gebohq from the grand apparatus of his design.*

Helebon: You know, dear Geb, I do so enjoy watching my plans come together. Since gaining dominion over Earth without much resistance, you don't know how much joy it brings me to watch you be the downfall of humanity as we know it. And besides, I always thought it was a little too cool on this surface to truly be a replacement for my old home.

*Helebon walked Gebohq over to an elaborate throne.*

Helebon: Please, have a seat. Get some rest. The planetary alignment will be optimal momentarily and I do believe we shall have company soon.

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

*Antestarr stared at the massive door before him. Carvings of the greatest battles in history adorned its face, from the conquests of the Romans to the trenches of WWI and even to the great Mime/Clown conflict. Qhobeg kept his hands on Young's shoulders, keeping her from falling into the room below while Dalaes approached Ante's side.*

Dalaes: Be prepared for the worst on the other side of this door. There is no telling the horror beyond. I shall stay in the back to ensure you aren't jumped from behind.

Thrawn: And why should we trust you to watch our backs?

Dalaes: Because a monstrosity such as myself only seeks to find a place to belong. To betray my allies would leave me with fewer options.

Ante: And that's the best answer you could come up with over these past few years...? Nevermind, we have business to take care of on the other side of the door.

*Ante motioned to Thrawn, who kicked the center of the door, causing it to fly open inward. Before them Gebohq sat, barely conscious upon a grand throne. Helebon turned to face them, as though suddenly uninterested in Geb.*

Helebon: Ah, I see you've all finally made it. I'm so glad you could be here to witness history in the making.

Ante: Yes, we wouldn't miss returning the world to what it once was for... er... the world.

Qhobeg: Hey, I think all this straight savioring without a break is getting to you. The witty reparte is kinda dragging.

*Ante, Qhobeg, and Thrawn stepped forward towards the center of the room.*

Ante: Yes, perhaps the long day's getting to me... Shall we get this over with then?

Helebon: Indeed, the end is almost near.

*Young removed her makeshift blindfold, hoping to witness heroism at its finest. At the same moment, Dalaes flipped what appeared to be a light switch on the wall and black thorn vines grew from the floor, surrounding Antestarr, Qhobeg, and Thrawn.*

Thrawn: This is, by far, the worst shopping trip I've ever been on.

Helebon: Yes, I do believe you missed the big sales by a fair margin. Rest assured, though, that this elaborate scheme was only enhanced by your attempted meddling. I really must thank you all, especially you, my benefactor.

*Dalaes folded his arms and nodded at Helebon's comment*

Ante: Ok... this is making more sense now. That first demon downstairs wasn't moving to draw his weapon against you, he was saluting you...

Helebon: It's true... the forces of Hell alone are not enough to dominate the entirety of the human spirit. Far too many of you mortals have faith that a higher power can save you and therefore feel that you have nothing to lose to fight for your ideals. But with the power of darkness that had gathered for centuries before even my inception, we were able to subjugate their faith and turn it to our power. Even now, your great leader sits, about to lose everything thanks to faith.

Ante: Well, Dalaes, it seems you've chosen your path.

Dalaes: Actually, I think you chose it for me. The day you handed me the darksaber, you knew its power... its will. It was only a matter of time before it wore me away to my core. I'm a demonic monstrosity. If there was no place for me, with its power I'd make one. But you knew that... you knew that by giving it to me, you could help to preserve your precious 'story'.

Ante: You still had a choice. Just because the blade had its own will, you could have chosen to ignore it. To stand against this horde rather than lead it.

Dalaes: And then what? Return to hermitage with only the voice of darkness for my company? No, I'm sure this is what you wanted. All for your precious belief.

Ante: ... A belief that died with the original story...

Qhobeg: I hate to break up your little bonding session, but these thorns around us appear to be growing and preparing to impale those of us who are stuck in this trap.

Helebon: Yes, can't have you all dieing before I'm done with my plan.

*Helebon returned his attention to Gebohq*

Helebon: You see, Geb, your friends are about to die. But you have the power to save them. Beneath your right hand is a button. This button will release them from their cage. It will also take your life and fulfill my plan. Now you must choose: you can foil me and save your own life, but watch your friends die; or you can save them at an immeasurable cost....

Qhobeg: I was really kinda made as a replacement for you.

Thrawn: I'm still probably going to try and kill you later.

Ante: I stole your kidney in an attempt to further my own selfish desires.

Young: Hi, Mr. Geb. It's nice to finally meet you in person.

Helebon (staring at Young): Why is that not dead yet?

Dalaes: The trap would not spring on her. She is too well protected. However, the protection is preventing her from doing more than watch for the time.

Helebon: Enough! Gebohq, it is time to decide the fate of everyone in this room.

Gebohq: I... I'm sorry....

*Gebohq, with what strength he had, depressed the button beneath his hand. The thorncage around Ante, Thrawn, and Qhobeg immediately retracted as clamps latched around Geb's forearms and sucked out his bioelectricity in an instant. Geb's head fell forward, limp.*

*Energy coursed through the great weapon system. A red light surrounded the Citadel, refracted from the parabolic array, and was cast out from the planet into space. The energy tore through the lower section of MacFarlane's space fortress, causing ruptures on the first three floors and rocking those within. The beam continued outward until it reached the Jovian Dispersion Field, what was once known as the planet Jupiter. In the center, the beam just stopped and became a sphere. A sphere of such great mass that the gas clouds that had been swirling around quickly condensed and thousands of years of nature were bypassed in an instant. No sound was heard in the vacuum of space, but the radiation from what was once Jupiter made clear what had begun.*

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

*Arkng Thand sat back in his chair leafing through a book on the history of Rome. Before him was only Gebiyl, within his prison.*

Thand (to himself): You know, it's almost a shame if you look at the situation. I mean, the writers have become tired and listless, avoiding writing with poor excuses. The hands have become especially weakened, since one, in his arrogance, has taken a form he was not welcome to. And the story herself has been stretched thin, between trying to support The Lost, The Heroes, The Villains, and still protect her Daughter.

Gebiyl: Why do you torture me with your banter... It's bad enough being stuck here.

Thand: Oh, I was just musing over how the Potentials have been forced to turn most of their powers towards keeping the story from unravelling due to the stress. And yet you're stuck here, while I babysit.

Gebiyl: I've felt the seal weaken, but what good is it? My body is hidden to me. I have no place to go.

Thand: Indeed... such a shame.

*Gebiyl's rage at his imprisonment started to grow when he felt an opening. A place into which he could truly escape and be free. An opportunity seemingly laid open to him by his captor. This was not a time for hesitance.*

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

Helebon: Ah, I can already start to feel the temperature increase. There's nothing quite like a nice double summer.

Ante: What are you going on about?

Thrawn: You couldn't have...

Helebon: Oh, yes, I have doubled the number of stars that the planets of this so-called "solar system" are forced to orbit around. I really must give some of the credit to you, though, Antestarr. While this is our first meeting, I've taken a great interest in some of your gadgets... why this entire structure was based off of one singularity generator you came up with.

Ante: I... you...

*Before Ante could formulate a coherent sentence, Gebohq's eyes shot open. He ripped an arm free from the restraint and grabbed Helebon's arm, crushing the bone.*

Helebon: GRAGH! HOW...?! WHY...?!

Gebohq: You gave me the window.

*Gebohq ripped his other hand free from restraint and turned to face Helebon. Holding out his free hand, the NeSword materialized in his grip. He pointed the tip to Helebon's throat.*

Gebohq: You know... you are not worthy to fall to this blade.

*Geb swung the sword cleanly through the arm that he had crushed and tossed the limb to the side. He then held a hand toward Dalaes. Instantly, the hilt of the Darksaber flew to his grasp.*

Gebohq: Prepare to join the darkness that has plagued mankind since its inception.

Ante: Wait... Geb!

*Without hesitation, without remorse, the Darksaber was thrust through Helebon's abdomen. The wailing of Hell was heard throughout the Citadel as the creature of darkness became one with the collective power. The empty husk of Helebon fell to the ground and collapsed into dust.*

Gebohq (Grinning): Yes... I feel it now. The plot wells up within me. Stronger than ever... more powerful with every letter of every page.

Dalaes: And what of Hell? Now that its leader is gone, where shall those souls without redemption go?

Geb: You can take over for all I care. Or perhaps that vagrant, Jim, will move back in. It matters not. Earth, on the other hand, shall be restored... for a time.

*Geb eyed Young intently for a few moments.*

Geb: I still have not made sense of you. Therefore, you shall come with me. I promise, no harm will come to you. But it will come to your entourage if you try to resist...

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

*Shadowlord entered the room which once held Gebiyl.*

Shadowlord: Are you sure it was wise for that one to escape?

Thand: In 64 AD, a great fire swept over the city of Rome. There is speculation as to how it started, some even pointing at the Emperor at the time. However... they say that as Rome burned, Nero fiddled...

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

*Within MacFarlane's damaged space fortress a single bead of water ran down the side of a great block of ice.*

A U-Haul-sized, taped-together starcraft comes barrelling into the area, in the general direction of the Earth.

Computer: ..Bzzt.......coming.........bzzt Bzzrt! Incoming object, bearing 3 4 6 1 7 32 7 3 76 point 8 5 8 4 8 6 4 6 8 8 32 dash 545646513 to the power of 6 3 8 4...

The pilot awakens with a start, scrabbling for the controls.

Matt: Gah! Huh? Whassa.. oh.

Matterialize steadies the craft, and then notices the planet in front of him as the computer is still reading out numbers.

Matt: Whoa.

Computer: Estimated time until atmospheric penetration: 1.3 seconds.

The tiny ship rocks as it enters the atmosphere. Everything in the cockpit shakes.

Matt: Ooooh, that's bad. We're not even on an even decent! Computer, what's our angle to the surface of the planet?

Computer: Ninety degrees.

Matt: Uh-oh.

Matterialize's attempts to steer the ship are futile, but then the ship clears the outer atmosphere and becomes responsive.

Matt: Alright, let's do this!

He punches a button on a box next to him, and a cup of coffee fizzles into existence.

Cup of Coffee: Fizzzzle!

Matt downs half of it in one gulp and then grasps the yolk, pulling back on the throttle. He spies an ominous-looking clock tower in the distance.

Matt: Hey, a tower! Civilization, yeah!

He victoriously slams the dashboard. The ship makes an odd noise, and the engine falls out.

Matt: Computer, what gives? Why isn't the engine going?

Computer: The engine's current location is six-hundred and seventy meters behind the ship, at an altitude of 0.

Matt: O_o

The ship screams through the air, gliding on its wings, and slowly descends to the ground, getting nearer to the Citadel with each second.

Computer: Time till impact: 5 seconds. 4. 3. 2. 1...

Matt shuts his eyes, utters a quick prayer, and the ship touches the ground. Suddenly the entire cockpit seems to spin, rocking back and forth, and Matt receives a sudden excrutiating pain all over the front of his torso.

Matt: AIEEEEEEEeeEEeEEeeeeEEEeee!!!!

The ship slowly decelerates, and comes to a screeching halt a short distance from the Citadel. Matt staggers out of the cockpit, clutching the spot where he spilled coffee on himself.

Matt: Ah... hot... hot!

He waits a while as the pain subsides, then makes a quick damage report.

Matt: Well, let's see... the wings have been completely mangled... and the engine has proceeded to fall out of my ship. I'm sure I'll think of something...

Will Matterialize ever think of something? Will he ever think of anything? Will he ever get the big coffee stain out of his shirt? Stay tuned!

Level 10.

When Subaru comes to, it is intense pain that greets her before anything else. She is lying sprawled over the first few steps of Michael's throne chamber, a grim decoration to the sparse grandeur of it all. She tries to move, but various sharp pains all over her body compel her to remain static. Slowly, Subaru manages to tilt her head awkwardly, upon which she becomes aware of two things: she is bathed in her own blood, and she is being watched.

Michael: Amazing...you're still alive.

The insane fallen hero claps with mad delight on his throne, his absurd laughter a perfect counterpoint to the somber percussive beat of his hands.

Subaru: You....

Michael: I wouldn't try to move. You have major lacerations all over your body.

Subaru: Why didn't you kill me?

Michael: I have killed you, my dear. If God Almighty came upon you now, even He wouldn't be able to patch you up. You have more blood on the outside of your body than within it!

Defiantly, Subaru tries to roll into a crouching position, but the lancing agony all over her limbs and sides cause her to cry out and shudder into stillness.

Michael: How excruciating this must be for you...and yet it is nothing compared to my own torment.

He cradles his head in his hands. Subaru strains to look at him without causing herself more pain.

Michael: I have to go now, Subaru. I have to take Losien and leave this place, this chaotic fractal, and hope that my subverted allies gain the revenge they seek. Because he'll never stop. My old friend will tear this universe apart to find me and her, and if he finds me, one of us will die. And...

He shakes his head.

Michael: And I don't want that. I know in my heart that I don't, despite what I've become.

Subaru: ...why?

Michael smiles his humble smile at her, a smile that seems to bond them both to a moment of peace between them.

Michael: Because he's my friend.

Then his smile fades, and a frustrated resignation replaces it.

Michael: But I have to stay...I must stay and fight him. I am the villain now, and I will do him the honour of battle. Even if I have no control over it, I must follow the story's conventions. We ALL must...

Then - without any warning - a blast of sound and light explodes across the throne room, coalescing into the image of a human figure. Subaru tries to pierce the veil of distortion that seems to be wrapped around the figure...but she cannot.

Michael leaps to his feet, drawing his swords and pointing them at the figure, who calmly walks up the stairs past the immobile Subaru to stand before him.

Michael: You! You said you'd leave me alone now!

Figure: I stated that once I gave you this space station - and everything in it - then I would leave you to your plan. I never said I would cease to be a figure in your life.

Michael: It's all finished now, anyway. The army has been deployed to Earth, and we're about to foil the heroes here in the base.

The Figure laughs calmly, urbanely.

Figure: Wrong, I'm afraid. This is a perfectly logical permutation of the NeS. Your "army" will be soundly crushed, and you will be slain. Quite shortly, as a matter of fact.

Michael glares at him...but a sadness of wisdom takes him, and his shoulders slump. Defiantly, he looks up at the Figure.

Michael: You've come to gloat in my final hour, then?

Figure: No. I have one last use for you, Michael MacFarlane.

And then the Figure extends a hand towards Michael, who is thrown across the room as though blasted with some unseen force. He smashes against the wall, pinned to it, unable to move. With serene calm, the Figure walks over to him and withdraws a small silver knife.

Michael: You're going to kill me?!

Figure: Of course not, you fool...

The Figure seems to look him up and down for a moment, studying him...and then he draws a gash across Michael's arm, allowing his blood to draw out into a vial.

Figure: But fool or not, you are a magnificent testament to the adaptive and tumultuous nature of this story...an NeShade, a supremely rare creation, the first of its kind. Borne out of pain, and soon to return to it...I wonder if we shall ever see your kind again?

Michael: To Hell with you! I am not afraid of you!

Figure: You don't have to be. I will have nothing to do with your rather messy end...your good friend TLTE will. He approaches now, carrying your doom with him. I expect you'll want to be left alone to...reminisce...

Michael: I'll kill you!

Figure: No, you won't. I respect your admittedly invalid opinion, however, and wish you the very best in the remainder of your extremely brief existence. Farewell, Michael.

And in another virtually insubstantial hand movement, Michael is thrown roughly back into his chair, stunning him. Subaru takes one last look at the Figure, who glances around the room...and then disappears in a puff of blue smoke.

Then the pain grows too much for her, and she too loses consciousness.

Without any warning, Helebon's Citadel is rocked suddenly by several monstrous impacts. Antestarr, Qhobeg, Thrawn and Dalaes are launched off their feet, tumbling to the floor and scrambling for some sort of purchase. Only Gebohq and Young maintain their footing, the former glaring lethally around him as though divining the source of the chaos.

Thrawn: What the Hell is going on here?!

Gebohq: It's perfectly obvious, fool - we're under attack.

Antestarr: You mean, the demon forces?

Gebohq: No. Planet Earth.

Qhobeg: This seems a little violent for the NeS heroes, wouldn't you agree?

Gebohq strides to one of the room's walls and strikes it with the Darksaber. The wall shatters instantly, steel and substance yielding to its might. As the debris of impact clears, Gebohq eyes the rudimentary view of the cityscape for a moment, then snorts a laugh and takes a step back, clearing the view for others.

The city of London has been besieged by a magnificent battle, albeit lacking in finesse and motivation. The demon forces, now shaken and bewildered by the loss of Helebon's influence, are doing battle with a rag-tag assembly of monsters, humanoids and what appear to be reanimated implements and props. A comically horrified man runs down a side street, dodging hellfire and all manner of projectiles.

Matterialize: (distant) OH, THE HUMANITY!

Gebohq: What manner of foolish attack is this?

Ante: (muttering) The heroes have failed then...

Gebohq turns back to the rest of them, drawing his fearsome blade as he does so.

Gebohq: I will rid myself of these fools swiftly. And you-

He grabs Young by the arm, who looks at him strangely.

Gebohq: -are coming with me!

Then he leaps with her out of the hole into the sky, gliding down into the streets below. The remaining occupants of the room - betrayer and betrayed - eye each other warily.

Qhobeg: Well, THIS is awkward.

Matterialize runs down a street outside the Citadel, hands outstretched in front of him, running like mad as some unidentifiable cloud with evil-looking eyes shoots after him.

Demon-cloud: Wraaaaaa! Feel my wrath, mortal!

The cloud produces a vapour-y hand from its bulk, and summons up a blast of energy. It throws the energy, which travels in an arc, as if affected by gravity.

Matt: Yaaah! UDLAC! UDLAC, where's my UDLAC?

Matterialize scrabbles at his belt, and retrieves his UDLAC*. He powers up the blade, and pivots just in time to deflect the blast of heavy energy.

*Uber-Deluxe Laser-Action Cutter. It looks and acts oddly like a lightsaber.

The blast hits the cloud, stunning it momentarily. Matt charges.

Matt: *swings the UDLAC through the cloud* Yeehaw!

The cloud lingers for a moment in two pieces, screaming, and dissolves away.

Matt: Whew.. what the hell is going on here?

Gebohq: You said it, fool!

Young: *screams* Watch out!!!

Matt: Whaaaaa?

Gebohq, carrying Young, seemingly falls out of the sky, landing with a loud boom right on Matt. The UDLAC-wielding fighter smacks into the ground, bearing the weight of two people on his back. Gebohq remains unhurt, but the force of his landing creates a five-meter-wide crater, smashing Matt almost completely under the surface.

Matterialize: GUUUHGgalgjkaklhgds...

Gebohq: Thanks for cushioning my fall, ingrate.

Gebohq runs off with Young. Matt extracts his head from the Earth and looks after him, grimacing with pain. After a few minutes, he sloooooowly stands up.

Matt: Huh.. how rude...

(voices from far up): Heyyy! Don't just stand there.. catch him!

Matt: Huh?

*Up in the tower*[/i]

Thrawn: What just happened??? Is Geb crazy?

Dalaes: He's gonna kill himself!

They peer over the edge, and watch with surprise as Gebohq lands neatly without a scratch, and then they notice the person he landed on.

Thrawn: Heyyy! Don't just stand there.. catch him!

Dalaes: Look, that guy's got a lightsaber. He must be some kind of hero, or something... doesn't he know a kidnapping when he sees one?

Ante: *sighs* We'd better go down after him. Can anybody else survive a jump from a fatal height?

Nobody volunteers. Qhobeg points at Thrawn, who kicks him in the shin.

Dalaes: Well, let's get going... many flights of stairs between here and the ground floor.

Most of the heroes set off for the ground floor. Qhobeg rests a few moments, then limps after them.

Level 9.

The elevator doors open, and at once the NeS heroes are surprised and amazed. They have reached the observation deck: a miracle of construction engineering and translucent metallics that allows them (on a 2-dimensional plane) an incredible 360-degree view of their surroundings. Earth looms ominously large before them.

Miss Fire: Incredible...

Cool Matty: There, in front of us...the final elevator. This should lead us to your crazed ex-hero, TLTE...and very likely to his demented bodyguard as well.

They race halfway across the bare steel deck before an explosion on the lower levels knocks them all off their feet, sending them skidding in several directions.

TLTE falls more or less directly forward, towards the path of the elevator. He moves to get up - but freezes as a set of dark cobalt boots hammer into the ground before him.

Blackguard: I'll hand it to you, you certainly know how to take a beating.

Slowly, all of the heroes get up, their hands twitching against their weapons as they shuffle into a defensive formation against the towering monstrosity of the Blackguard.

Blackguard: I thought I soundly crushed each of you last time. Did only the android perish?

There is a beat, then-

TLTE: Oh crap, Wai!

Level 3.

Wai is lying on top of a moaning Dart Wader, his CPU sparking and electrocuting his captive sporadically.

Level 9.

Blackguard: Well, at least you rid yourself of the small animal. Really, what were you thinking bringing him along anyway?

Another beat-

CM: Oh crap, Pingu!

Level 8.

Masetto:...so overall, I'd have to give Songs for Silverman a cautious 7 out of 10 - strength in its exceptional songs, but losing in occasional 'filler'.

Pingu: Agreed.

There are a few moments of awkward silence.

Pingu: So...I guess we've covered the complete history of music now.

Masetto: Guess so.

Pingu: And I guess we have to stop stalling and get with the fighting each other at some point.

Masetto: I suppose it's inevitable. I mean, we all knew that this "fight" - a battle between a fully-grown man and a penguin, respectively - had to happen.

Pingu: True.

Masetto: And it goes without saying that the eventual outcome of the fight is quite obvious.

Pingu: Yes.

Masetto: Well then...en garde!

He begins to fumble in his jacket for some kind of weapon. Pingu leaps up towards him in a blur of unbelievable speed and knocks him flying off his feet, slamming him into the wall and sending him tumbling unconscious to the floor.

Pingu: Yes. En garde. Heh heh heh...

He begins to waddle to the elevator.

Level 9.

CM: Alright, what's your secret? How come no one can even leave a mark on you?

Blackguard: How can you leave a mark on a memory? How can you hurt the past, or kill the conjectured?

Krig: Krig confused.

The Blackguard glances sidelong at the Viking, then smiles.

Blackguard: I once had more in common with you than any of these people, Viking. I was a simple warrior, proficient in fighting but little else.

Miss Fire: But someone killed you, didn't they?

Blackguard: It's a common occurrence in the business. Even for the skilled.

CM: So what are you now?

Blackguard: Brought back by him. The only person I've ever met with more self-loathing than myself. I'm not sure how he does it, but he keeps a vial of my blood preserved, which seems to sustain me.

CM: Cute. Voodoo-lite.

Blackguard: But he no longer rules me. An inattentive, manic psychotic like him couldn't keep its whereabouts hidden for long.

He extends an armoured wrist, upon which the tiny vial is draped by a thin crimson chain. He eyes it for a few moments...then drapes it around his neck.

Blackguard: There. I am no longer an impossible foe. I am capable of dying again...so in one sense, I suppose I am alive again.

He draws his head back and laughs bitterly. The heroes watch him warily, unwilling to move against him yet. Finally, he stops, and focuses his gaze on TLTE.

Blackguard: I have no quarrel with you, Russian. I never did. I only persecuted you because he needed me to, and now I answer to him no longer.

The Blackguard takes a step back, allowing TLTE a clear path to the elevator. TLTE looks at him disbelievingly, then rushes past him to the doors.

The rest of the heroes move to follow, but the Blackguard steps back into his original position.

Krig: Krig saw that coming.

Blackguard: The rest of you, however, can die. Only TLTE is needed to finish off my former captor.

TLTE: It's OK, my friends. It was always going to come down to me and Michael anyway.

CM: Dispense justice, TLTE. We'll be up there soon.

Krig: Say hi to Lohsee for Krig, Tee-El-Tee-Ee. And MacLongname.

TLTE gives him a sad smile, and turns to leave, but the Blackguard momentarily turns to face him.

Blackguard: Despite whatever history you had with him...Michael MacFarlane cannot continue to live. You know this.

TLTE only nods, and shuts the elevator doors.

Level 10.

TLTE: (sighing) Here we go.

Level 10.

TLTE decimates Chronological Harmony with a deft sword stroke.

TLTE enters the throne room cautiously, military saber raised, Smith and Wesson at his side. He immediately spots Michael, slumped in his throne. He also sees Subaru, who is in an obviously poor condition.

TLTE: Subaru?! What devilry is this?

He rushes to her side at the stairs, trying to revive her. As he does this, Michael coughs and begins to stir.

Michael: Aggh....

TLTE immediately jumps to the right conclusion, glaring up the stairs towards him.

TLTE: You have gone too far, Michael...to destroy your own allies as ruthlessly as this?

Michael: TLTE, wait - we are both being played for fools here!

TLTE: ENOUGH!

He draws his pistol and cocks it, rising up the stairs towards him.

TLTE: You are beyond salvation, my old comrade...I should kill you a thousand times for the damage you have done!

Michael: You - wait...this is not...you can't do this!

And yet, watching as the Russian climbs the stairs, a steady measure of contempt in his eyes, he realises that he can. And he will.

Michael: Very well, TLTE, have your victory...but you will not have HER!

And as TLTE jumps into striking range, the form of Michael shatters into a mass of papers, dissipating backwards over the throne...through a hidden enclosure...and out of sight.

Subaru: ....help....

But without even a glance back, TLTE pushes past the throne, leaping through the enclosure and into the unknown-

TLTE: Borscht!

Into an ante-chamber filled with two maligned, swirling forms of metaphysical character that TLTE instantly recognises.

TLTE: Chronological Harmony and Logical Plausibility! The ultimate scorned characters of the NeS!

LP: DIE!

He rushes at TLTE, who pulls a Plot-Hole Bazooka out of nowhere and blasts him into ironic non-existence.

CH: My brother might have fallen, but I certainly will not!

TLTE: Ha! You already have!

Chronological Harmony reads the entire post.

CH: ....nuts.

He falls to dust as TLTE races past him.

!MEANWHILE!

The final area in the base - Michael MacFarlane's private space hangar. The large, wide-open industrial room is bizarrely (yet very stylishly) decorated in vast drapes of rich red and burgundy. In the centre of the room is a raised circular platform, accessible by a thin gantry that is itself connected by a flight of steps.

Michael re-forms in the doorway, leaping up the steps and over the gantry, to the platform. On the edge of this platform - a magnificent spacecraft, shiny black, decked out in the latest of cutting edge technology. From an aesthetic standpoint at least, it certainly LOOKS capable of inter-thread travel.

And before the craft - the beautiful figure of Losien, now free of her ice cocoon, lying in a pool of crystalline liquid. Michael rushes to her still form, draping a huge black blanket over her with amazing gentility and grace.

Michael: Can you hear me, my love?

He strokes her raven black hair reverently, gazing in adoration at her peaceful face. Tears well up in his eyes as he softly addresses her.

Michael: I'm sorry I wasn't here for your return to the world, my love...I only hope the medical unit was gentle with you. Can you hear me yet? You should return to your senses soon...

He casts a hurried look over his shoulder, then stands and scoops Losien into his arms. Gingerly, he lifts her until he can whisper into her ear.

Michael: We're going away now, my love...I fear that I cannot protect you against the evils in this world any longer. We have to leave this poison place...and then you'll be safe...

He strides over to the spacecraft with her. With a hiss and release of pressure, the huge landing ramp folds out to meet them, and Michael starts up to the cockpit-

TLTE: MICHAEL!

Michael shuts his eyes sadly, halfway up the ramp. For all of his efforts, and reluctant actions...his misguided and doomed attempts to foil TLTE's destiny, and his own...

He realises, fully and completely, that he has failed.

TLTE: MICHAEL!

TLTE rushes up the stairs, his boots thudding heavily as he crosses the gantry onto the platform. His sword flashes ominously in the grim industrial illumination.

Michael sets Losien down on the landing ramp. He kneels over her for the last time, and looks at her for the last time. Briefly, he considers that for the love of a woman, he has thrown everything - including his own soul - into the abyss.

Then he kisses her forehead gently, and turns to face TLTE.

Michael: You're here, at the end of all things.

TLTE: I'm ready...are you?

Michael: Does it matter?

He steps off the ramp, then presses a button on his belt. The ship behind him raises a few feet into the air, beginning a circular flight around the platform. Michael casts aside his coat, revealing a pistol at his hip as well as Absolver's two cutlasses. He is dressed in black combat fatigues, just as TLTE: they truly appear as mirror images, aside from their faces. TLTE's is bearded, fatigued, and determined - Michael's is clean-shaven, alert, and humbly sorrowful.

Michael: What about you, hero? Ready to save the girl?

TLTE: For the last time, Michael, don't do this...I don't want to fight you, and you don't look like you want to either!

Michael: We don't have a choice, do we? Because neither of us will let her go.

Automatically, they both look at her. Losien rests on the extended landing ramp, floating above them both like an angel. TLTE's expression brightens, watching her - Michael's softens as well, and he looks companionably at him for a second.

Michael: She is worth fighting for, at least we have that...she is worth a war. A thousand wars.

TLTE: She is, comrade. I cannot argue.

And then both of them are resolved again. They raise their blades at each other, but TLTE holds a hand up.

TLTE: Before we finish this, I want you to know...I'm sorry.

Michael: What?

TLTE: For my part in this, I apologise. I know that your actions are not entirely faulty...they weigh heavily on my insincerity...my apathy...and I am sorry.

Michael stares blankly at him, then nods. TLTE nods to himself, then hides his face behind his sword.

Michael: Goodbye, old friend.

TLTE: Äî ñëåäóþùàÿ æèçíü, òîâàðèù.

And then it begins.

Meanwhile (Nescount? Pshhh, this is the ANTI-COUNT), back on level 10

Subaru: ..cough.... splendid... I couldn't do a thing, not a damn thing... useless as usualllll *hack cough*

Subaru rolls to her side, again attempting to stand, but unable to do so.

Subaru: I guess TLTE... really doesn't care... it's all about... Losien... the *******... *cough*

Her eyes begin to close, as the pool of blood under her continues to grow. Her breathing becomes faint, and for a moment, it looks as if she is truly dead...

---

CMtW: Aww, damnit... I wanted her to live.

GebtW: Wha? But it's better for the story! There's too many damn characters!

TLTEtW: Seriously, get rid of her CM, let her drop!

CMtW: No! She's my character, and I won't do it! I had PLANS for her!

Everyone falls silent, and stares at CM.

CMtW: What? Was it something I said?

GebtW: AHAHAHHA PLANS, HE SAID PLANS!!!

KrigtW: Damn, for a second there I thought he was serious!

TLTEtW: Oh hahahaha, that's a good one CM, plans! Oh, geez, I haven't laughed this hard in a long time!

CMtW: I hate you all.

---

Suddenly, a blue aura surrounds Subaru... slowly, it begins to heal her wounds. The blood stops pouring, and her bones are merged back together. In a few minute's time, she is back to full health. And she awakes.

Subaru: What? I'm alive! I'M ALIVE!!! OH MY GOD, HOW? OH, THIS IS A MIRACLE...

She jumps up, and immediately falls back down, not realizing in the energy of the moment that she is completely dead (haha) tired, worn completely from the power she expelled to heal herself. Not that she realizes this yet.

Subaru: No, actually, I didn't. But thanks for clearing that up.

Wait... DAMNIT!

Subaru: So... apparently that wears the hell out of me, but I did live. I'll sleep all week if that's what it takes...

Suddenly, another explosion rocks the ship

Subaru: Or maybe I'll get some rest when I get off this rickety thing...

She staggers to her feet, and drags herself through the level, looking for a hangar entrance through which to escape from.

---

GebtW: That was lame, you know.

CMtW: I didn't ask you.

TLTEtW: We'll just kill her in the next post, you realize this, right?

CMtW: Oh? Well then, I'll make sure everyone dies in this post then! HAHAHHAHAHAA!

---

All of the sudden, out of nowhere, a million nukes explode, des.... wait, no... like hell I am reading this stupid script! Who the hell wrote this anyway! This is stupid!

CMtW: This isn't a discussion, read it!

I will absolutely NOT do such a thing! Come on, this is the sort of stuff they save for the April Fools jokes!

CMtW: Fine. Only half a million nukes then.

NO! NO NUKES! You know what? I ought to kill Subaru off just for the suggestion!

CMtW: You wouldn't DARE....

Wouldn't I? All of the sudden, out of nowhere, Subaru... *crack smash bang*

CMtW: YOU LEAVE HER ALONE DAMNIT!

Get the hell off of me you poor sweatshop writer!

CMtW: You are going DOWN narrator! You've been left to your own devices for long enough!

TLTEtW*cracking knuckles*: Speak for yourself, you self-centered twit!

GebtW: Let's get him.

*Insert Brawl Here*

CMtW: AGH THE PAIN!!!! SUBARU, HELP!!! AAAAAHHHH!!! NO, NOT THE PEN, ANYTHING BUT THE PEN!!! AAAAAAAA!!!!!!!!!

So after a long and bloody brawl, the NeS writers are left with no clear winner...

Right, who am I kidding? Five minutes of throwing pens at each other and sissy-slap fighting, the writers got tired and bored and sat around watching TV for a few days. The NeS, while certainly its own life seperate from the writers, can only do so much without the writers. Sure, Bhac and Mayaal rushed to battle each other to keep conflict within the NeS, but a flaw is realized -- their conflicts lack interest. Who cares which of the two triumphs over the other?

Mayaal: Hey now! I'm the good guy, and Bhac's the bad guy!

But everybody already knows that you two were born equal, so that neither of you would triumph over the other. Besides, neither of you have contributed much to establish yourself as good or evil.

Bhac: Excuse me? Have you been blind to me oogling over Maybechild?

Mayaal: What's this now, Bhac?

Bhac: Uh...er...

Bhac, aren't you suppose to be in the form of Qwerty and fighting Tod?

Bhac: Yeah, about that... Mayaal?

Mayaal: Hmm?

Bhac whips out a mechanical model pigeon.

Bhac: Meet Benard. He's uh... my understudy. GO GET 'EM BENARD!

Bhac chucks the model pigeon at Mayaal, and it lands with a thud at his feet.

Mayaal looks down at the pigeon.

Bhac looks down at the pigeon.

Mayaal looks at Bhac.

Bhac looks at Mayaal.

Bhac: ...gotta go.

And Bhac exits the scene, leaving Mayaal alone. Well, not so much alone, I suppose. There's Benard.

Mayaal: ...

Mayaal then exits the scene, leaving poor Benard all alone in the vast vagueness that is 1337. So much for eternal conflict in NeS, I guess.

So... what was I talking about again? Bhac and Mayaal... keeping NeS active... oh yeah, the writers. As I was saying, even if the Hands of NeS theoretically keep the story running with conflict, without writers to write what happens, nobody sees the progression. The NeS becomes the friend from school you stopped seeing years ago.

In any case, the writers are sitting around, not doing their writing-thing.

GebtW: I'm almost done my masterpiece post...

CMtW: Cheese and crackers! You've been writing that thing for over a month now, man! Just post it already!

GebtW: No! It must be perfect, true to the NeS spirit, capturing character and sensory details, weaving in some good laughs to heighten the dramatic moments--

SemtW: Gebxxor?

GebtW: Yes?

SemtW: I know NeS is important to you and all, but... it's NeS. We're suppose to just write stuff off the top of our heads -- the less sober we are the better.

Gebohq the Writer looks at his notes, then at his computer nearby, with the NeS thread up.

GebtW: Yeah... wait, you don't write anymore. Why are you still here?

SemtW: Free food, nice company when they're not involved with NeS... but mostly I'm just too lazy to move out.

GebtW: Right then.

Geb the writer continues to look at the computer in silence.

SemtW: Don't feel like making a NeS post, do you?

GebtW: ...what? No... no! Of course I feel like posting! I'm just working on my masterpiece--

SemtW: --Oh stop with the B.S.! You know better than anyone you're not suppose to put any real effort into writing a NeS post!

GebtW: That's what you think! You never took the story seriously!

SemtW: You're not suppose to take it seriously! It's a comedy!

GebtW: That's not the point!

SemtW: It's OK. Everyone gets tired of writing for NeS at one time or another.

GebtW: It's not true! Not me! You may stop writing, and maybe everyone else too, but not me! I'll write until I die!

SemtW: You need to calm down. It's just a story.

GebtW: IT'S NOT JUST A STORY! GET OUT!

Semievil the writer stands his ground. Clenching his fists, Gebohq the writer stares at him. He shakes with anger, then storms out of the room. Semievil the Writer sighs deeply before sitting back down, an awkward silence filling the room of idle writers.

SemtW: So... what are you guys writing about these days in NeS?

TLTEtW: Oh, my character and some other heroes saving Losien from McLongname, Ante and some other heroes ridding the world of hell, some more heroes cleaning out the Haunted House of Heroes of evil dust... that sort of thing.

SemtW: McLongname's still around?

TLTEtW: Well, no. See, that was the whole point -- McLongname, a forgotten character, feels us writers are being evil and controlling and doing stuff we shouldn't be doing. The whole "man against his creator" sort of thing I suppose. The idea's been cropping up in other places of NeS as well, like with Young for instance. We didn't really plan it. It just sort of... came up. You remember how these things happened.

SemtW: I guess... It would seem you guys don't have much motivation to continue writing, do you? What with the NeS seeming to turn against you and whatnot.

TLTEtW: I've been on a posting streak, actually. I just stopped for now because I was hoping one of these bums would get off their butts and keep NeS, you know, an interactive story. Now that I think about it though, trying to end this storyarc has been awkward for me, more difficult than usual somehow...

SemtW: You guys have really gotten too high and mighty with your writing. Just spin around your chair a few times and start typing the first thing you think of.

TLTEtW: Wait... I think I know why Geb is putting off his work these days. He believes so much in what he writes that... the NeS has become real for him. The building conflicts between characters and ourselves, the burden of the drama over its comedy... Gebohq is afraid of destroying the NeS...?

SemtW: Fuq man, you guys really are screwed up around this place!

OttertW: Shut up! We're trying to watch "Die Hard" here!

KrigtW: Well actually, it just finished.

TLTEtW: How many times have we watched it now?

OttertW: Five hundred and uh... seh-ven-tee.... four. No, five. Five hundred and seventy five.

TLTEtW: Do we not have ANY other movies?

SemtW: Go for 600!

everyone else: 600!!!!!!!!

TLTEtW: This is my cue to exit and do some thinking...

level 4

When last we left him, Topd was trying to figure out what the heck to do with the 50-odd...

RAM: 50 isnt an odd number!


*heavy sigh* electric sheep qwerty had sprung on him.

Cyber-ewes: Baaaa!

Tod: *readying his sickle stands strong* All right you overgrown brillo pads, show me what you got!

C-Es: Baaa! Baaa!

as he stands steady the sheep begin rubbing up against each other.

Tod: eh? WTF?

the biggest cyber-ewe at the head of the pack extrudes a thin metal rod from its forhead.

Tod: okaaaay...

Tod rushes foreward and is met with an electric shock to the face.

Tod: static shock! my one weakness! how did qwerty ever discover it!

Tod runs away like a pansy. the pansy. pansy-*** pansy-face....pansy.

why dont we check up on someone less pansy-ish, qwerty.


Qwerty: boy am i glad i decided to install this supersecret service elevator known only to myself. i'll be at the 9th level in no time!


boy FordtW seems to be a bit lazy and using cheap gags that are totally unfunny. he really needs to get back into the groove of things if he really wants to start writing again. cause right now his writing is really weak........ the pansy.

Deitopos, the mysterious tower of knowledge located in the NeS dreamstate.

Arkng Thand reclines in his most comfortable chair, blue smoke emanating from his pipe and occasionally obscuring him in the resultant fog. This main room, like all others in the tower, is almost unbearably silent when Thand is not entertaining guests.

The scholar himself is, as always, catching up on his reading - he steals brief glances at the plethora of bookshelves around him, overflowing with literally thousands upon thousands of dusty tomes. He has, of course, read all of them: having read every published work of knowledge in the entire history of the NeS, they serve now only as a notion of review or, in some rare cases, nostalgia.

Taking another puff from his antique pipe, Thand withdraws from his vest an ornate gold fob watch, adjusting his spectacles to observe the readings. Bizarrely, the watch does not correspond to conventional time readings of hours and minutes. Instead, there are two chronological indicators, four hands of the clock: the first on the left side of the watch is marked "Page 1", "Page 2", "Page 3" etc. all the way to "Page 51", on which both the large and small hands have frozen. The second indicator is almost identical, running up to "Page 51", except that next to this marking, in small golden calligraphy, is written "The End".

Arkng Thand: Page 11 and...38 posts. Of course.

He then replaces the watch, adjusts his pipe and continues reading his text. It is "The Seven Against Thebes", by Aeschylus.

Arkng Thand: "Now do our eyes behold
The tidings which were told:
Twin fallen kings, twin perished hopes to mourn,
The slayer, the slain,
The entangled doom forlorn
And ruinous end of twain.
Say, is not sorrow, is not sorrow's sum
On home and hearthstone come?
Oh, waft with sighs the sail from shore,
Oh, smite the bosom, cadencing the oar
That rows beyond the rueful stream for aye
To the far strand,
The ship of souls, the dark,
The unreturning bark
Whereon light never falls nor foot of Day,
Even to the bourne of all, to the unbeholden land..."

Ruefully, he shakes his head, but continues reading.

!IN THE REALM OF THE WRITERS!

The cubicle of TLTE The Writer. TLTETW is bent over his desk, his fingers working furiously on the keyboard, as GebohqTW enters.

GebohqTW: Hey, buddy!

TLTETW: Shut up and write!

GebohqTW: (sheepishly) Yes, sir.

He turns and prepares to leave, but stops himself as he realises why he came in the first place.

GebohqTW: By the way, great job on writing Arkng Thand's character out...I think it's about time we had a mentor figure for the heroes. Keep up the good work!

He leaves cheerily, completely missing TLTETW's shocked expression. TLTETW stares back at his computer screen, then back at the door where Geb had left, then back at his computer screen...and then he rushes out the door.

TLTETW: (distant) Geb, wait!

TLTETW's computer screen has a personal diary maximized. His half-finished entry reads "Find anonymous writer for Arkng Thand posts. Thank them."

*BUMP*[/b]

*Antestarr the Ex-Writer Now Lost Somewhere in Europe happened to plow into a full-bird colonel as he strolled down the sidewalk looking for something. Realizing who he'd run into, Ante quickly snapped to attention and rendered a salute.*

AtE-WNLSiE: I'm very sorry, sir. I was preoccupied looking for something.

*The colonel stared at Ante, not happy with being BUMPed into.*

AtE-WNLSiE: You see, sir, I was looking for something. A thread... er... story. About oh... say... 11 or so forum pages long. Written by a group of rectitudinous prosateurs. Only not so much prose. And, uh... only a marginal amount of rectitude. Er... am I sounding pretentious?

Colonel: Son, it appears to me that you need to go to the Life Skills office, ASAP. Seem's you're not quite right after that *BUMP* to the head.

*The colonel starts to walk away, muttering about the waste today's youth is and something about the good ol' days when a nuke was an appropriate response to someone forgetting to say "God Bless You" when you sneezed. Ante, on the other hand, rubbed the *BUMP*[/b] on his head and went back to searching for the poor lost thread.*

*And now a preview of a post in the near future...*

Yelling Voice: *Pop Culture Reference to be Revealed at a Later Time*