Detective: And the beat goes on.

Meanwhile, Real time. Back at the convenience store of the damned

Geb emerges from behind the back of the convenience store to find the heroes, and the new “acquaintances” in the midst of a pitched battle.

Morris: Give it back little dog.

Thatchett: No… niis nine now.

Morris: You thieving little mongrel, I should slice you open right now.

Thatchett: Now nan you nhen nu nant neven natch ne.

SM: What was that?

Thatchett scampers a good distance away from the overweight cat, and finally dropping the candy bar from his mouth replies:

Thatchett: I said, how can you when you cant even catch me.

Morris takes this opportunity to lunge, claws extended, and Thatchett, who quite nonchalantly grabs the candy bar in his mouth and gently trots away.

Morris: Listen, that candy bar is MINE.

Sarn: I hate to say it, but the mutt did find it first.

Morris: Yeah, on the body of the dead guy WE brought here.

Phil: *moan* I’m not dead yet...

Morris makes another rapid pounce at Thatchett, who responds surprisingly deftly for such small and otherwise unassuming dog.

Morris: Just you wait, when I get my claws on you, I am going to try some Boiled Dog.

Ares, who has be watching these events unfold silently, finally looks away with complete disinterest and heads for the front door of the convenience store. Once inside he heads immediately over to the magazine rack, picks up the latest copy of “Guns and Girls”, and begins casually thumbing through it. Meanwhile Hawthorne is again sitting on the floor of the convenience store surrounded by burritos.

More interesting that all of these events however, is the conversation that has been unrolling in the back of Geb’s mind:

(S.) Geb: Why am I feeling compassion for that little ratty dog over there?

Geb: Because he is little, and cute, and one of the good guys.

(S.) Geb: But I’m not?

Geb: Arnt you?

(S.) Geb: No, I AM GEBIYL, DESTROYER OF WORLDS!

Geb: Destroyer of worlds, isn’t that a bit much?

(S.) Geb: Ok, maybe it is a bit over the top, but I am Gebiyl, convenient story inspiring menace of doom.

Geb: That’s more like it.

(S.) Geb: Still, as a story inspiring menace of doom, shouldn’t I go around kicking little dogs, and stealing candy from babies? Why then do I have the urge to go over and scratch that rat behind the ears?

Geb: Because you are not evil!

(S.) Geb: I AM EVIL.

Geb: Are you, really.

(S.) Geb: Yes, If I am not evil, then how will the heroes know to stop me, and if they don’t try to stop me, how will the story continue?

Geb: Exactly.

(S.) Geb: Exactly?

Geb: Exactly.

(S.) Geb: Listen, I’ve got enough to worry about in my head without all this self-crypto nonsense going on, At this rate Gebohq and I will switch bodies again.

Geb: Is Gebohq evil?

(S.) Geb: What, no… I am evil… Gebohq is…um Gebohq.

Geb: Correct again.

(S.) Geb: Wait, I think I get what you are saying. If no one knows that I am evil, then I am indistinguishable from Gebohq, and as such, I AM Gebohq. With the force of these new writers, I must be careful not to loose myself. If I continue acting like Gebohq, I will start thinking like Gebohq, and if I start thinking like Gebohq, I will soon BE Gebohq.

Geb: Good…

Suddenly, back in the real world, Geb undergoes a sudden change in posture. With hardly a flinch in his face, he walks over and kicks Thatchett square on with a hard kick. The small dog drops the candybar previously in his mouth, and scampers away.

Thatchett: Whimper Whimper Whimper… What the Hell was that for? If you really were that hungry, you could have just asked for the candy bar, I would have given you half.

Geb: Silence little dog.

In a sudden move, Geb bends down and snatched up the Candy Bar, with quick hands he strips the chocolate morsel of its colorful wrapper, and suddenly throws it down in the dust and stomps on it.

Morris: What was that for? I was going to eat that?

Geb: You too. Silence, We must be going. I have humored these “Heroes” long enough.

Geb grabs at his imaginary cape, and make for the door to the convenience store, Morris, bitter and slightly confused, follows after him.

(Geb’s Mind): Bwahh ha ha… If I can’t steal candy from a baby, I can at least steal Candy from a dog…

Who will wind the Battle for Geb’s Mind? Will Gebiyl be able to take control due to his heinous deeds? Will Thatchett ever forgive him? Does Ares actually read the articles, or has he just been staring at the “Gun Bunny” centerfold for the last ten minutes?

Subaru: Ugh.

Subaru, having finally woken up from her space-station battle, grabs her head, and looks around.

Subaru: Wha? Mimiru's house? How the hell did I get back here? Oh Lord I have a serious headache....

She gets up, and stumbles to the bathroom, in search of some powerful medicine, when she notices something move out of the corner of her eye.

Subaru: Uh... is someone there?

???: Very perceptive! Or maybe I am just slowing down in my old age. It matters not, I have no reason to hide here.

She turns around, shocked. She did not actually expect a response.

Subaru: Who the hell are you?!

???: I am a plot device used by the writer to allow a conversation to occur, and to explain away a lot of the events that have transpired in a reasonable and logical manner.

Subaru: ... No, I meant, what's your name?

???: Oh. I don't have one. I guess you may call me whatever you like.

Subaru: Okay... dude. So why are you here?

Dude: I believe I just explained this. I am a plot devi--

Subaru: No! Not that!

Dude: Oh, right. Well, I was watching over you. See, I am the one responsible for bringing you back here. The trip was quite adventurous. I barely got to you in time...

While this mysterious person details his trip with Subaru, Subaru becomes more and more worried about this person. For some reason, she is unable to make out his form. He seems to be almost... ethereal to her, a mere wisp of the person he should be. She cannot make out any details, such as color, age, height, or other things. It is as if his form simply eludes her eyes.

Dude: ... and then we arrived here.

Subaru: Well, I thank you greatly. However, your reasoning for saving me, and your presence before me... I don't quite know what to make of it...

Dude: Ah, you have many questions. However, now is not the time. If you wish to join the others, you must move quickly.

Subaru: The others? You mean to say of Mimiru and CM?

Dude: The very same.

Subaru: But how do you know--

Dude: I'll explain later. I promise you this, when the time is available, we'll have a good sit down chat. But now, you need to get moving. I feel a sense of... urgency eminating from a fellow of mine... I believe he is with your friends now.

Subaru: What? Who would that be?

Dude: My good friend? Oh, he goes by the name of Arkng Thand...

Will Subaru be able to catch up with CM and the gang? What of this mysterious new character, and of his connection to Arkng Thand? Many questions, few answers. Stay tuned for more information!

Somewhere in the writer's realm Voodoo the writer updates her online journal

So sorry for not updating in a long time.
Nothing really to report really. no drama, no social life to report.
I could rant about work again but you can just read my other entries or someone else's besides, who reads this stuff anyway?

-VSnowflakes



Meanwhile back inside the convenience store of the damned...

A worn-out florescent light flickers inside a not so polished case, illuminating trays of shaved deli meat with a strobe effect. The clerk stands behind the the case wearing a black apron, a black Convenience Store of the Damned ball cap, and name tag that reads: "Voodoo S".

She knows how it works, they send in a scout and that he sets up some sort of distraction. Thats him, the scout, rolling around on the floor like he has some fetish for microwavable tex-mex. Another just stands as a look-out, quietly by the magazines. Someone else stuffs wine coolers down their pants.

But she could care less as long as they don't mess with her they can steal the whole lot, and burn the place down. In fact Voodoo has contemplated burning the place down herself.

A few bells jingle against the door as another customer enters followed by a cat. The clerk sighs and leans over to speak into the microphone on the counter. Her voice echos through the store in a monotonous scripted tone:


Voodoo: Welcome to the Convenience store of the damned. The deli and bakery of the convenience store of the damned features a small selection of deli meats and cheeses, salads and sandwiches, fried chicken, bagels, bread, pastries and such. And as always thank you for shopping at your local convenience store ... of the damned.


Voodoo sees a cat waddling its way to the deli begging for something, most likely some food. By the looks the cat really could go with out but...


Morris: Sustenance!

Voodoo: Awww! look at the kitty! whud you like a little piece of cheese?

Morris: a little piece of cheese? I demand you convert this into an all you can eat buffet for me immediately!

Voodoo: Here you go honey, some cheese for you.

Morris: Hey! don't think you are being all nice and sweet by giving me the dried out slice from the top of the pile!

Voodoo: NO! no more treats!

Who is Voodoo S? Will Morris ever get something to eat besides crust-a-fied cheese? What else does Geb feel like snatching? You've got questions we might have answers next time on...NeSquared!

Morris: Listen *he drags his eyes up and down the figure of “Voodoo S.” trying to determine an appropriate noun to use* Girl… you have until the count of three to mark everything in this deli 100% off in a special “I want to live” sale or… *Morris unleashes a full class three Cheshire grin*… Else.

The power of a class three Cheshire grin is normally enough to bring even the most stout hearted adventurers to their knees; however, its remarkable power in unable to match the sheer level of indifference that can be generated by minimum wage. In testament to this fact, the figure of Voodoo S. is completely unaffected by Morris’ threat. The air hangs briefly with anticipation as Morris prepares himself for the inevitable feast, and then is suddenly broken as Geb forces his way between Morris and Voodoo. Geb dials up his courteous charm to the maximum setting, and addresses the attendant.

Geb: I apologize for the behavior of my friend here, Ms… Voodoo. You see its been a long trip, and we are in rather a hurry. Could I bother you to turn on Pump number three?

Geb looks around the convenience store in a very convincing manner.

Geb: Several other’s from our group will be in here momentarily to buy some refreshments and use the facilities, will that be all right?

Voodoo locks gazes with Geb’s pleading eyes momentarily, and then proceeds behind the counter where she flips a switch. Without moving an unnecessary muscle, she nods in the direction of Geb and Morris.

Geb: Thank you my dear. *Turning to Morris* Come along.

Morris: But…

Geb grabs Morris by a scruff of fur around his collar.

Geb: We will ask the others to grab something for you.

Geb marches Morris towards the door, stopping only to gesture to Ares to follow. Ares makes a motion to put the magazine back on the rack, and follows in step. Geb continues to the Astro-Van and immediately begins filling the gas tank. Meanwhile, across the dusty parking lot Sarn and Sok Munkey are searching through Ares’ and Morris’ dehabilitated vehicle. Thatchett and Bach are nowhere to be seen. Faint musak surfs the dry arid breeze. Geb leans against the Astro-Van and begins to whistle a little ditty.

Back inside the convenience store Hawthorne rises from his circle of burritos, and leaving them resting on the linoleum floor, approaches Voodoo.

Hawthorne: Excuse me, but where is the Milk isle?

Without making eye contact Voodoo points in the direction of the far corner of the store. Before Hawthorne can thank her, their attentions are suddenly turned towards the sound of a car starting, followed quickly by the loud and nerve shattering sound of gears grinding against gears.

Geb: Who on earth buys a Mini-van with a STANDARD shifter.

Geb’s hand moves frantically as he tries to put the Asto-Van into gear. Meanwhile Hawthorne emerges from the front door of the Convenience store with a puzzled look .

Morris: You mean you can’t drive standard?

Geb: Can you?

Morris: That’s not the point.

Ares: I can.

Geb: Quiet, I’ve got it.

Geb, finally getting it into gear, floors the gas petal. The Astro-Van kicks up a cloud of rust colored dust as it rolls our from the gas station and merges back onto the highway, leaving Hawthorne standing pathetically in front of the Convenience store, he is soon joined by Sarn and Sok Munkey. After a moments silence Thatchett comes around from the side of the building with a half eaten moldy sandwich in his mouth, which he promptly drops.

Thatchett: Oh Bugger.

Inside the Convenience store, Bach emerges from the men’s restroom. Stepping carefully around the mop and bucket left lying in the isle, he makes his way to the front door. Along the way he passes a small white sign, encrusted with years worth of dust, and a surprisingly large amount of ketchup (we hope). The Sign’s original inscription is no longer legible, but it emits waves of etheric terror.

Inside the Astro-Van, now speeding down the highway.

Geb: Woo hoo… Those suckers never saw this coming.

Morris: *reclining in the passangers side seat* Neither did I.

Ares: What exactly are we doing?

Geb: I’ve got a plan, and you guys are going to be in on it.

For our non-empathic audience, we will now return to the sign just inside door of the Convenience store. Pealing back the waves of time that have accrued over this particular sign, we can watch as it’s original message slowly re-appears.

"Shoplifters shall be CURSED to the fullest extent of DAMNATION."

Geb: Did it suddenly get colder in here?

Morris: Yeah, I think I must have accidentally turned on the Air Conditioning.

Looking around slightly, the Cat reaches from inside his coat and produces a handful of deli meats along with a package of Twinkies. Removing one of Twinkies from the box, he offers it to Geb. Declining, Geb reaches into his own coat and removes a stolen candy bar. Ares, also declining Morris’ Twinkie, produces the issue of “Guns and Girls” he had previously been browsing through, and continues where he left off…

What is Geb’s fiendish new plan? What will become of our now stranded Heroes? What is this mysterious Curse that has now been placed upon our New Anti-Heroes? Is Phil Dead yet? Will we ever know? Find out in the next exciting installment of the Never Ending Story Squared!

Space time is immediately ripped at the seems. All goes still. Quiet. Mayaal slides a canister into the broken pistol. Flicking his wrist, the gun clicks into the loaded position. Mayaal pulls back the hammer of the pistol.

Bahc That is forbidden! The time-space continuity is far too delicate for such a dramatic end. You do realize that you've split time in 2! They're still moving. They're still talking and existing! I have literally been written from their existence!

The others that were with the disguised Bahc all stand still as all those magical times before when the Hands of the NeS had discussed current events but... this time, things were different. The space around the other NeSers was wavering, as if under water.

Bahc Why have you come here!? Why in this way!?

Mayaal You don't have the time to think about all that right now. Trust that I'm breaking us off from the path so that they don't see the carnage that's about to ensue. Spend your bleeding brain-cells on staying alive.

Mayaal's hand-cannon explodes with the light of a thousand suns. Mayaal stands straight and prompt, despite the amazing forces pressing against him. His robes and hair flail in the air as the blast seers through the air, directly at the robed Bahc.

The Hands of NeS clash on the arch of time, all without the concept of their creations. Arking Thand shakes his head and removed himself from the trance.

Arking Thand Mayaal forgets the power he possesses. Does he truly understand how binding his words are? The fate of NeS is now skewed towards the dark, and the only successors to balance this world knows are playing war in an alternate time. I fear what this could become. No, I fear what it will become.

In Arkng Thand's dreamstate tower of Deitopos, the mood is almost uncomfortably tense. Antestarr stands imperiously and somewhat petulantly in front of his former mentor, arms folded, his hard calm beginning to crack. TLTE stands in flank with him, clearly uncomfortable at the confrontation that is about to simmer over but oblivious to the correct course of action.

And, of course, Arkng Thand: his infinitely wise grey eyes sparkle behind a veil of blue smoke puffing out from his pipe. They sparkle and glimmer steadily, taking in his former protege, scrutinising him to the finest detail. But for a moment he says nothing, his brow furrowed in new contemplation of matters unseen, choosing rather to allow the tension between them to grow to an unbearable level.

Thand: Curious...the Hands are behaving even more erratically than I thought they would be. I will have to read more books on guardian characters.

He places an aged hand flat against the top of the side shelf next to his chair, and draws it up slowly. As he does, a number of dusty-looking books simply materialise under his palm, as though they were already there. To TLTE's eye, it is not unlike the magic that several of the NeS heroes and villains use, but with less grandeur - no flashing colours or bright sparks, but more of a scholarly precision.

TLTE: Professor Thand, you are a mage?

Thand: What gives you that idea, master TLTE?

TLTE: Your books - you must be a practitioner of NeSmagic! You should talk to CM - he can command fire, unleash storms of pure energy -

Thand: Why would I command fire and energy when I control the NeS itself?

Then, without explaining himself, he turns to Ante.

Thand: Now, Ante, you were about to accuse me of abandoning you.

Ante: Why, mast - I mean, professor?

Thand: Why what, Antestarr?

Ante: Why did you - wait, you already know what I'm accusing you of!

Thand: Of course.

Ante: Then why make me say it?

Thand: A person does not withold an action because they know the consequence. The action is still necessary to bring about the literal consequence.

Ante: But this wasn't an action: it was a question, offered for the simple reason of your gaining sufficient understanding of my situation.

Thand: Yes.

Ante: You already understand my situation.

Thand: Of course.

Ante: So the effort was initiated on a redundant proposition. It was meaningless.

Thand: To you and me, Antestarr, it may well be. But the question has to be asked for the sake of the NeS itself.

He casts a brief - almost sympathetic - look at TLTE, whose brow is furrowed in an attempt to keep up with the two academics, and then focuses back on Ante.

Thand: Almost everyone can anticipate the end of a conventional story. The heroes will triumph. The villain will languish in defeat. The lovers will be reunited. The world will be saved. The NeS is no different...it is even more predictable because of its epic structure. Gebohq and the old guard of heroes will praise its zany humour, but it is only an intermission between the next heroic battle or cream pie to the face. But now...

He smiles grimly, patting the books next to him.

Thand: Your enemies are evolving. They understand the cyclical nature of stories, the apparent invincibility of heroes...and they might be able to shatter these conventions, these Ultimate Conventions...

TLTE: Ultimate Conventions? Michael spoke of them too!

Thand: Ah, yes. How unfortunate that I was unable to tell you who you were facing. And how it would end...

TLTE: You knew?!

TLTE glares in horror and anger at Thand, while Ante looks resigned and sad.

TLTE: You knew that I would have to fight and kill my oldest friend?! And you didn't TELL me?!

Thand: If I had sat here in this room, as I did when you came to me for advice, and told you that your quest to save Losien would end with Highemperor perishing, Subaru run through with your sword and Michael dead...would you have gone?

TLTE stares at him. Thand stares back, searching his eyes.

Thand: You would have, wouldn't you? To save her...interesting.

Ante: But who are these new enemies that can kill us?

Thand: The Potentials.

Ante balks at him. TLTE looks on, not understanding.

Ante: You can't be serious!

TLTE: Look, just pretend I know nothing of NeS lore for a minute! What are the Potentials??!

Thand: The Potentials-

Ante: -are the physical manifestation of everything our characters have been, are and will be.

Thand smiles approvingly.

Thand: Quite right.

TLTE: The physical...uh...so they're us?

Ante: They are...look, the theory is, each character in the NeS - hero or villain - represent, at their core, a theme of sorts.

Thand: Each character has an individuality to their spirit that they can offer. There is something utterly unique about their essence that defines them.

Ante: Everything that you do, your actions and your failures in the NeS, is an effort to express this, your concept of being.

Thand: Three times - to date - this concept of being has developed into a physical being. The Potential of three characters has become reality, and these three had become my...associates. Together, we worked on what was going to happen to the NeS next, in the interest of - well, we all had our different interests. The Potentials all wanted to "save the day", heh, "stop the end of the world"...I was more interested in studying the fabric of the NeS, of course, and as a result, I'm of more use to you. Well, I'm not trying to kill you anyway.

Ante: But why would they want to kill us? We -

TLTE: Wait, who are these Potentials? Who do they represent?

Thand: So far, as I said, there are only three. Erronem, Alexan, and Phoenix. The Potentials of Gebohq...Highemperor...and you, TLTE.

TLTE: Me? My Potential is here?

Ante: What do they represent?

Thand: Erronem, being the Wielder's Potential, holds the concept of balance. This balance is his strength, and also his diversion, superficially, from the Gebohq you know - but really they are one and the same. For Gebohq may be a hero, and fight the villains with all his might - but his overriding goal is to preserve the NeS, and the preservation of anything in the world lies in moderation of all. Balance.

Alexan, Highemperor's Potential, is the concept of passion of character. No character before, or indeed after Highemperor, had his conviction of self, of person - after all, he was strong enough to be both writer and hero in the one self. Strong enough to launch a branch off the destroyed NeS - NeShattered, a world of its own - just to delve deeper in to the mysteries of his own character. Would that he were around now to help you...*sigh*

And Phoenix - your Potential, TLTE - represents three concepts, three themes integral to your character: death, rebirth, and dreams. Death and rebirth stem from your black heart, for you will always be a villain, destined to your defeat, destined to your tenacious soul that will not die...but still there is a spark in the darkness. For you will always dream, somehow, of a better life. A life of love, a life of peace...and most importantly, a life that ends.

These are the Potentials I know of. More may come, and probably sooner than later...but these are your enemies now, and you cannot defeat them yet.

Ante: Why are they even trying to kill us?! Isn't that counter to their own goals?

Thand: You think as I did...but as to why they want to kill you, I can only speculate. They spent much of their time here in Deitopos, researching, learning...perhaps they found something in the NeSlore that implicated you. They hunt you now, searching for the NeSHeroes...

Ante: We must find them before they find us, TLTE! Maybe we can talk them out of fighting -

Thand: No. The Hands of NeS, Bhac and Mayaal, have elevated their conflict. In doing so, they have displaced one of the Ultimate Conventions of the NeS. Until all is set right, any battle you have with any villain will end in your defeat.

TLTE: So what do we do?

Ante: We run. And we hide.

TLTE: I'm good for that.

Ante: Come on, let's grab CM and Mimiru and get the hell out of here.

He looks strangely at Thand for a second.

Ante: When this is over, Professor...I'll be coming back.

Thand: Of course, Antestarr.

TLTE and Ante swiftly march out of the chamber, but just before they exit, Thand calls after them.

Thand: Oh, TLTE!

TLTE: Da?

Thand: When I give you the signal that Mayaal and Bhac have restored order - and quote me on this - do NOT attempt to fight Phoenix yourself.

TLTE: What? Why?

Thand: It would be extremely inadvisable for any character to meet his Potential. The results would be...catastrophic.

TLTE: Don't fight own Potential. Right.

With a swift door-slam, they exit.

Spinning from off the ground and into the air, Bahc's fingernails reach out from his body with a finesse and agility unlike any mortal. The blast from Mayaal's pistol seers the earth, but cleanly misses Bahc's flowing robes. Mayaal kicks off the ground just in time to have 3 of the 5 fingernails slash through his lab coat, avoiding his limbs. The nails break off and are replaced with mid-sized blades as Bahc lands on his feet, dust swirling out from underneath his acrobatics, all taking place within the last few seconds. Mayaal casually loads another shot by breaking the pistol.

Mayaal You thought you could directly influence the evil characters just because you won a bet!? It's just a bet, it doesn't give you the right to break the rules.

Bahc Start saying something worth listening to. All I hear is "Wah wah wah, I lost my own bet. Wah wah wah."

Mayaal Then let me say something you can't plead ignorance to.

Mayaal suddenly appears behind Bahc, his arm across Bahc's chest, grasping his right shoulder. Light silhouettes Bahc as the pistol in Mayaal's other hand, pressed against Bahc's back, charges. Bahc's right leg suddenly wraps back around Mayaal's. Using his leverage, Bahc pulls Mayaal forward as the gun goes off, blowing a large gash in the side of Bahc. Although wounded, Bahc's quick thinking lends him a hand as he tosses Mayaal clean over himself, his nails ripping pink flesh to red along the way. Mayaal lands 10 feet away in a heap of blood and dust as Bahc wavers, using his nails for support as his gaping side pulsates with light.

Sitting up with his gun, Mayaal laughs.

Mayaal Remembering what pain once was is an awkward feeling. I recall our previous bodies, and how pain was such a crippling factor in combat. Amazing how some mortals fight as they do, even with pain.

Mayaal begins loading another shell.

Bahc It's why they fight, Brother. Because if there were no losses, there'd be nothing to gain. It's why this fight now is a waste of our time: Literally! We need to return to time as we know it in case any powerful characters have realized our absence!

Mayaal I too feel the need for-

Bahc leaps from his position with cat's grace, landing on Mayaal with a fury of kicking and scratching, Bahc cries out in lust and rage as blood rains from the 2 of them. Bahc suddenly departs from their combat, a stream of blue blast from the pistol trailing his burnt corpse through the air. Mayaal drops to the ground, his once pale pink flesh now crisscrossed and gashed open with precision red.

Who will prevail in this battle? More importantly, when will the 2 of them realize what their bet has done to the continuity of NeS? Find out what happens next time on The Never Ending Story Squared!

On his knees, Mayaal looks to the sky. Though he has no eyes, he sees in his mind the swirling clouds as they burn like angel fire in the setting sun. He catches his breath as blood streams to the red dust around him. Slowly, Mayaal regains his feet. Bhac lays on the ground at a distance, not moving. Blue smoke streams from a fresh hole in his stomach, swirling like a last whisp of spirit as it leaves the body in search of eternal rest. Bhac lay motionless. Suddenly, his head twitches. Waking from a strange darkness, Bhac rises to his feet, finding a new and unseen strength.

Bhac: Is that really the best you can do, brother?

Bhac steps forward. Mayaal breaks his gun and loads another casing into the chamber. Clicking it back into place, he sears the air with another burning explosion. Somehow Bhac slows the slug down in time to almost suspension as he fades to the side like a shadow and dodges the round. burning like an off course meteor, it tears the air to his left and misses the mark by a wide 2 feet. Laughing, Bhac begins to walk faster.

Bhac: Do you really think you can drive me out of NeS so easily? Lest you forget, I too have power.

Mayaal loads another casing and splits the atmosphere with it. As if it required no effort, Bhac deflects the shot with a passing of his blades.

Bhac: I too weild power in NeS, Mayaal. and it will take more than you to pull me from this story arc now.

Mayaal: We control NeS from outside its bounds, with apathy and justness!

Mayaals tone takes a cold edge

This treespass will not be overlooked.

This time Mayaal reaches into his tattered lab coat, now a deep stained red. From an unseen pocket he pulls one last casing. Unlike the others, This one is not made of the tears of Mayaal. It was made from his own blood. Mayaal loads the casing into his gun and cracks it into place. oblivious of this, Bhac laughs.

Bhac: Don't be a fool Mayaal! You cannot kill me, and pain does not stop me! You can't win!

Bhac breaks into a run, his bladed hands at his side in anticipation of a leaping strike. Mayaal stands firm, with a look of pain, sorrow and holy anger across his face. Bhac departs from the earth, leaving dust trails from his kick off as he flys towards Mayaal, intent on running his fingernails through his heart.

Mayaal pulls the hammer and points the fateful shot at Bhac's chest.

Mayaal: Allow me to define pain.

Mayaal pulls the trigger with the barrel pointed at Bhac's chest. First there is only silence, as the air, the fabric of existance warp between Bhac and the barrel, drawing them closer. Then a flash with all the light and pain of a dying sun flashes, burning in the face of Bhac. The darkening landscape lights up with a flash as though the setting sun rose into its zenith again from its dying breath of twilight. As Bhac hangs in the air, a plot hole open in his chest, square where the round hit. Searing, tearing, pulling the fabric of the dimension around it, the plot hole grows, consuming Bhac, pulling him away from this imperfect dimension, this broken story of NeS as Mayaal watches without seeing. In these last moments a whirlwind of thoughts chaotically roit in Bahc's mind, then all silence as only one thought repeats itself, fading into an overwhelming sensation.

Bahc: So this is what it feels like...

With a snap of silence, the ever seeking never finding plot hole winks shut. Bhac dissapears, leaving the final bleeding curtain of existance as it was before he defiled it. Mayaal stands in the silence, broken inside. Something has changed, though he doesn't understand what. The wind begins to pick up, the only thing not held in this suspension of time. The wind, perhapse the only free thing in this life. Going where it pleases when it wants without heed to anything, even the halting of time itself, and yet the one thing incapable of apperciating it. Mayaal smiles at the irony of it. Perhapse it is the only one to deserve it.

Mayaal: enough has been done here today, now it is my turn to depart.

Mayaal turns and walks away as the zeyphers race around him in their eternal vain search of rest. His form turns into dust and is carried away on the free wind to mingle with the earth again as he steps out of this NeS dimension to the place he belongs again.


Where has Bahc gone? Will he return? How will his dissapearance affect the company? What will happen next? Find out next time on NeSquared!

[Edit] sorry if this messes with any developing storyline or goes against the characters of Mayaal and Bahc, Kirbz. Iread Mayaal's bio and tried to stay true to it, but couldn't find one on Bahc. I just read your awesome post and got inspired to write myself.[/]

Bhac Horrible. Absolutelly horrible. This is unexcusable. I can't believe that I, hand of NeS, would be so defeated by such simple NeSMagic. Horrible.

Resting with his back against something unseen, Bhac sits crosslegged in a place not so much dark, as one would consider in the realm of 1337, but far more describable as a place of shadows. Thousands of neverending shadows, and so little of it real.

Bhac This place... a plothole? I know of plotholes, and have used them myself. However - to exsist within one...

Bhac stands, reaching out he picks something up in the darkness, and moves it. He sets it back down, then considers exactly what he's just done.

Bhac Perhaps, being who I am, I am free from the constraints of time? A character enters a plothole, and is born again as something new. But for me? I can effect the story through the plothole... Only, without knowledge of those effects. In essance, this plothole is the static representation of the dynamic effects of timespace. Amazing what power NeSMagic holds. How to escape this prison, though...

Will Bhac free himself from the plothole in time to help fix what wrongs he and Mayaal's bet has caused? What will Mayaal do when his only enemy of good is his wager in favor of evil? How will this effect the donut to gebohq-clone ratio? Find out next time on NeSquared!

Mr. Stafford: Idiot.

Bhac: Excuse me?

Mr. Stafford: I called you an Idiot.

Bhac: But.... how?

Mr. Stafford: Name any other way of allowing me to reintegrate myself into the story, this is the most efficient form of the process.

Bhac: This makes no sense!

Mr. Stafford: aah, you're quite the intuitive one, as you can probablys tell by now, I exist beyond THE LAWS OF SENSE.

Bhac: But...... how can anybody defy THE LAWS OF SENSE?

Mr. Stafford: its quite simple really, let me explain.

Mr. Stafford opens up his trusty briefcase and pulls out a bar, offering Bhac a drink and a seat, they sit down next to one another, both of them with a stern matter-of-fact look on their faces.

Mr. Stafford: this is wrong... everything is all tense, here, let me try something.

Suddenly, Mr. Stafford produces a syringe and plunges it into Bhacs forehead.

Bhac: WHAT IN GODS NAME DO YOU THINK YOU'RE...doing ... well I guess that worked, I feel a lot more relaxed now, what was in that?

Mr. Stafford: Vodka

Bhac: Beats drinking it, god damn does that stuff burn, but seriously, I wouldn't mind you explaining a few things, for one, how the hell did you appear here, another thing, producing a bar from a briefcase? how the hell do you manage to do that stuff, and finally.... i usually expect large iron needles inserted into my brain to kill me, not get me drunk.

Mr. Stafford: Plotholes. They spawn people like me. I can create them, I can fix them, I can make them worse, I can help clear them up slightly... I come and go really, although this wine is very tasty, hey, do you have any cigarettes?

Bhac: Disgusting habit.

Mr. Stafford: I see... hippie.

Bhac What did you say?!?!

Mr. Stafford: Nothing... say, I need to go, I have some people waiting for me somewhere, don't go anywhere, you're amusing.

Meanwhile, in the parking lot at the convenience store of the damned...

Sarn: ...I can't believe Geb just took off like that.

Sok Munkey: yeah. Didn't see that coming. *SM rolls his eyes

Thatchett: I'm hungry.

*Sarn and Sok Munkey ignore Thatchett and walk back inside the convenience store.

from somewhere off screen: That's the convenience store OF THE DAMNED

*Oh right... the convenience store... OF THE DAMNED!!! (tormented music plays) Voodoo Snowflakes stands behind the counter, wiping the same surface over and over with a dingy rag.

Sarn: Err... sorry about the whole stealing gas thing. I told Geb not to do it, but he never listens to me.

*Sok Munkey coughs. Voodoo Snowflakes glances up briefly, then returns her attention to the dirty countertop


Voodoo: Whatever.

Sarn: Listen... Is there ahh... like a phone somewhere we can use?

Voodoo: Uhh. Nope.

Sarn: How are we supposed to get out of here?

Voodoo: Not my problem...

*Sok Munkey wanders back outside. Sarn turns back towards Voodoo

Sarn: So.. worked here long?

Voodoo: Long enough.

Sarn: I'm a hero, you know.

Voodoo: really...

Sarn: Yep. Went to school for it and everything. I'm an expert at rescuing beautiful women. Do you need rescuing?

Voodoo: Are you saying I'm beautiful?

Sarn: Well uhh... I mean.. Yeah. But... you probably get that all the time.

*Sarn glances away quickly, just long enough to miss seeing Voodoo look up from her rag and smile.

Sarn: Well uhh... I should probably see where Sok Munkey and Thatchett disappeared off to.

Sarn retreats to the parking lot outside. His mind is racing. He hasn't had these sort of thoughts about a woman since... well for a long time. He's so preoccupied he doesn't notice that Ares' car, previously wrecked by its passage through the plotholes, is now in shiny, pristine condition. Sok Munkey calls out to him from the vehicle's driver's seat.

Sok Munkey:Sarn! Check it out.

*Sarn, startled out of his reverie by Sok Munkey's sudden call turns toward the car.

Sarn: Wha? The car... How did you?

Sok Munkey: I fixed it.

Sarn: You did all that with a sledgehammer and a small knife?
*Sarn stares incredulously.

Sok Munkey: Actually.. I just used the sledgehammer. Come on, let's get out of here.

Sarn: Oh yeah... but... don't you think...

Sok Munkey: What is it now?

Sarn: Well I was thinking... Maybe we should take Voodoo Snowflakes with us. I think she could be.. helpful.

Sok Munkey: Who?

Sarn: You know, the clerk in there...

Sok Munkey: Oh... Well whatever. Have you seen Thatchett?

Sarn: You mean that weird dog? Haven't seen him.

Sok Munkey: What about Hawthorne? It's like the writer completely forget he was even here...

Sarn: Yeah.. that's odd...

Sarn The Writer: Whoops... Let me go back and fix that.

Sarn the Writer scrolls up...
...

previously...
*Sarn and Sok Munkey ignore Thatchett and walk back inside the convenience store. Hawthorne once again sits on the floor surrounded by breakfast burritoes.

Sarn The Writer scrolls back down

Sarn The Writer: Is that better?

Sok Munkey: Works for me. Sarn you'd better grab him on your way out too...

Sarn: Of course.

Sarn heads back into the convience store.. OF THE DAMNED. What will become of our adventurers? Will Voodoo agree to go with Sarn and the others? What's become of Geb and his group? Find out next time...

We return once again to the convenience store of the damned, where Sarn has just made a terrible discovery...


Sarn: So enlighten me, SM, when you said "fixed" what exactly did you mean?

Sok Monkey: Fixed. To place securely; make stable or firm, as in something with a great degree of certainty. I fixed the car so it was certain to run.

Sarn: It's running all over my shoe.

SM: No, that's just the power steering fluid. It's running from a fixed gasket.

Sarn: How can you tell?

SM: Are you questioning my ability to fix a car?

Sarn (aside): I'm questioning your brain's ability to put more than one neuron together.

SM: What was that, sir?

Sarn (aloud): I'm questioning-- what's he doing?

*Thatchett looks up from lapping at the pool of darkly viscous fluid.*

Thatchett: Thck, thck?

*Sarn looks around for Hawthorne. Not seeing him immediately he decides to say what he is thinking anyway.*

Sarn: Is he really that hungry all the time?

Thatchett: I will have you know that I am a well cultured dog of the world! I never miss an opportunity to sample the local cuisine!

Sarn: And that extends to power... whatever it was... fluid?

*Thatchett makes an expression that looks uncomfortably to SM and Sarn as a grin.*

Thatchett: Yeah.

*Sarn wanders over to the "fixed" car and kicks it viciously.*

SM: Good job, sir, you can fix cars too! Why didn't you say so earlier?

*Sarn looks at SM and smiles gently.*

Sarn: You left that sledgehammer around here somewhere, did you?

*Meanwhile, Thatchett, with his honor thoroughly offended, is staggering off after what he's pretending is an interesting smell, when something strikes.*

Thatchett: Urg.

*Suddenly he bolts for the door of the CSOTD; that most excellent door which is always seems to be open yet also makes a pleasing tinkling sound every time you walk through. Voodoo Snowflake looks up from her counter wiping.*

Thatchett: Yurg nurr.

*VS raises an eyebrow. Thatchett jumps up and down a few times making a gurgling yapping sound. He then collapses heavily and lies quite still. She leaves the counter and kneels down beside him, poking him gently.*

VS: Aww, poor thing. Are you ok?

Thatchet: Uuughhh.

VS: Is it those unpleasant little men outside? Are they starving you to death?

*Thatchett suddenly coughs and opens one eye.*

Thatchett (in a very tiny voice): Water?

*VS disappears and in a moment returns breaking the seal off of a bottle of water and pours it into a stained coffee mug. Thatchett makes a show of trying to raise his head to the mug and then collapsing back onto the broken linoleum floor tiles. VS sighs motherly and helps him up to drink the water. He laps at it and rests for a moment, then carefully slips over onto his feet.

Thatchett: Power... steering... fluid... bad.

VS: Oh you poor thing. Were they trying to poison you?

*Thatchett looks around dazily for a moment, then his gaze settles on VS and his eyes widen slightly.*

Thatchett: Oh, erm. No, no. That's to say, ahh, no. They were just making fun of me wanting to taste new things and experience life, you know.

VS: You know you really shouldn't be drinking power steering fluid. I know what you need.

*VS walks to the back of the store. Thatchett hears a cracking sound, followed by a buzz, and then silence. She returns unwrapping...*

Thatchett: An... ice cream sandwich? You're... giving me an ice cream sandwich?

VS: It'll make you feel better, wittle sweetie.

*She scratches him absentmindedly between the ears for a moment as he tries hard to show his respect for her as a human being and not gobble the entire ice cream sandwich in one go. After all, wasting a sympathetic food-imbued person is never a good strategy. Suddenly VS stops*

Thatchett (to himself): Buggerit, she can read minds.

VS: Where were you drinking power steering fluid, muffins?

Thatchett (to himself): Oh thank god. (to VS): Oh, from outside. The one guy had busted up the car and it was leaking. I'd never had it before so I figured it would be a good time to give it a tr--

VS: THEY DID WHAT TO MY CAR?!

*With a report, VS shrieks out the door. It slams behind her. A pleasing tinkle follows. Thatchett sits back on his hind legs and cocks his head at the door. With a start, he realizes his ice cream is melting and abandons all pretenses of politeness, gobbling at the vanilla and chocolate sandwich. He does not notice the horrible screaming sounds coming from just outside.*

What will become of Thatchett? Has he adequately sampled the culinary delights of automotive fluids? Will Voodoo Snowflake "fix" Sarn and Sok Monkey (har har)? Was she just being nice to Thatchett or has it been love at first sight? Where has Hawthorne gotten off to? Does it all really matter, since they are, afterall, DAMNED? Find out soon in the another exasperatingly obscure episode of the NeS!

Bhac: Wait!

The formation of what looks remarkably like a road with a convinience store of doom stops forming in front of Mr. Stafford. Mr. Stafford turns around to look at Bhac again.

Mr. Stafford: What?

Bhac: Your suitcase.

Mr. Stafford: What about it?

Bhac: It didn't always give you this much power with plotholes, did it?

Mr. Stafford: What's it to you?

Bhac: When did that change?

Mr. Stafford: I dunno, sometime when I was watching some people dusting their basement? Now if you don't mind...

Mr. Stafford continues walking into the now-forming road, the plothole sealing behind him. Bhac takes his opportunity and dives through, tackling Mr. Stafford through the plothole and onto the road.

Mr. Stafford: GAH!

Bhac: Now that I'm out, time to run and recover...

With that, Bhac seems to melt away as a pool of blood, quickly seeping through the cracks of the road. When Mr. Stafford gets back up, he sees no sign of Bhac. The only thing he notices is a motley group of people gathered around a convinience store. Mr. Stafford looks at his watch, noticing that it's about two in the afternoon.

Mr. Stafford: Don't people have jobs these days? Well, whatever, time to evaluate this store...

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

Meanwhile (NeS count: this joke is old already, let it die), in the Dreamstate of NeS, Antestarr and The Last True Evil exit from Arkng Thand's tower and to CoolMatty and Mimiru, who are busy staring into each other's eyes.

TLTE: Mageling!

CM: Wha... oh, sorry. Is it time to talk to Arkng Thand?

TLTE: We already did, and we need to leave now.

CM: That was quick. What's the deal?

TLTE: Antestarr can fill you in, we need to go now.

The Last True Evil grabs CoolMatty by the arm, who gets up and follows in a clumsy manner. Mimiru in turns follows CoolMatty. As TLTE leads the way, Antestarr and CoolMatty talk while on the run.

CM: Why are we rushing? Who's chasing us?

Ante: The NeS is in a position that it hasn't been in before -- fortune now favors the bad guys.

CM: Was the EeP in there or something?

Ante: No, though that's all the more reason for us to run, since the EeP is still somewhere in the Dreamstate. No, this is worse, if such a thing is possible. Thand has told us that the Potentials are plotting to kill us.

CM: Potentials? What are they? Why do they want to kill us?

Ante: I wish I could explain it to you in full, CoolMatty, but you're just going to have to trust me when I say that any one Potential outclasses any of us. Professor Thand told us that there are at least three of them trying to kill us, and with luck no longer in our favor but in evil, we must run, and hide.

CM: Now hold on a minute!

CoolMatty stops in his tracks. The rest of them stop in turn.

CM: This is the NeS! We're heroes! I don't care what kind of odds are against us, we're the good guys! We're not suppose to run and hide! Well, I guess Geb would...

Ante: Geb's not with us, CoolMatty. For all we know, he has turned to evil as well. We live in the NeS, yes, but you fail to realize just what kind of position we're in here. Professor Thand is a master scholar of how the NeS works, and if he encourages us to run and hide, we run, and we hide!

TLTE: We'll think of something, mageling. Until then, we have no time to waste!

CM: But can't we stand around for several morepages, beating the audience over their heads with information they should know, in traditional anime-fashion?

TLTE: What?

CM: ...nevermind. Let's go.

The Last True Evil, Antestarr, and CoolMatty continue to run again, hoping to exit the Dreamstate as quickly as possible. Mimiru keeps to the rear, keeping to herself more than usual...

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

Elsewhere, at the bar that a number of our ex-heroes had been getting drunk at some time ago...

Qhobeg: I was thinking about what Ford said earlier. Do you think he means to try and make a new team of heroes?

Otter: Bloddy hell ef I know. He'sh bean way too moody lately, if you ashk me.

The Otter continues his binge drinking, leaving Qhobeg to his sobering thoughts.

Mustang: I think I'm going to head back home. Got some things I should be attending to...

Dr. Dor: Ooo! Can I help? I feel very much in the experimenting mood right now.

Mustang: Well I do have some... volatile things to handle. Sure.

MZZT: You guys heading back to the HHoH? Wait up for me! I, uh, think I'm in an experimental mood too. >_>

The Mega_ZZTer, Dr. Dormouse, and Mustang Ford all exit the bar together. Qhobeg looks at them perplexed and turns to Thrawn42689.

Qho: Thrawn, did you find the three of them leaving like that a bit... odd?

Thrawnbot: You humans are always odd. Did you see where that robot Wai went off to? I think I'm going to try and look for him...

Thrawn42689 leaves the scene. Qhobeg turns to The Otter again.

Qhobeg: It seems like the bar's getting pretty empty.

Otter: Good! More drinkies for me!

Bartender: CLOSING TIME!

Otter: Bloody hell.

Qhobeg: Come on, let me get you back to the HHoH.

Otter: Shcrew that plasche! Let's find shomeplace more exciting!

Qhobeg: But the other guys, they'll be wanting us back--

Otter: Whut other guysh? Weren't you paying any attention at the meeting? We're not fuqing heroes anymore! Let's go find some ladies!

Qhobeg: Sure, I guess...

Qhobeg and The Otter exit the bar.

Why is Mr. Stafford "evaluating" the Convinience Store of Doom? Is he one of the suits that owns it, the equivilant of the Man? Where do Antestarr, The Last True Evil, CoolMatty, and Miimiru intend to go, and what do they intend to do about the Potentials? What about the ex-heroes at the bar? What's with all these characters that cleaned up the Dust earlier now acting all shifty? <_< Possibly find out next time, here on NeSquared!

B.U.M.P.!

No, we don't need you anymore, Benevolent Upwards Mobility Post! We have new writers. We've got posting craziness, can't you see?

B.U.M.P.?

Well, yes, the story thread has fallen off the two day or newer list. That doesn't mean we need you.

B.U.M.P.

What do you mean you already bumped the story thread? ...I see...

B.U.M.P.!

Come back here! I'm not finished with you...

A few moments after TLTE, CM, Mimiru, and Antestarr leave, Wai enters the room.

Wai: Has it begun, master?

Arkng Thand: Indeed it has, Wai. If things continue moving along at this rate... you will be my servant no longer.

Wai: I am excited to hear this. So they have gone to hide, yes?

Arkng: Yes. Dependent on their success at doing so, we may be able to finish this battle and end this conflict. I can only hope they succeed, as evil truly has the upper hand now, but I believe in them.

Wai: It is not like you have been wholly wrong before...

Arkng: For the most part, yes. But that TLTE character worries me... he is... unpredicatable.

*insert snazzy screen wipe left here*

The heroes now find themselves back outside the dreamstate once again, but the feeling of impending doom looms over them still.

CM: So where exactly are we going to hide?

Antestarr: I am not quite sure, really. Someplace secret...

TLTE: Maybe one of my homeland's missle silos would work? Underground, well defended, and I have plenty of friends there.

Antestarr: No, that will not do. They know where you grew up TLTE, they will suspect it. We need a place that is not on the beaten path, some place to lie low, where no one knows us.

Mimiru: I know just the place, and I think CM will agree with me.

CM: What?

Mimiru: Africa, or specifically, Congo or Gabon.

CM: You want to take them back there? But the natives know us, very well... and some of us still want to...uh... kill us for our last escapade there.

Mimiru: Oh please, I'm sure it's all boiled over. Not our fault we found it first.

TLTE (to Antestarr): What in the hell are they blabbering on about?

Antestarr (replying): I'm not sure, but we might as well give the youngsters a chance.

CM: Boiled over? They prayed for 3 days straight for all sorts of death and destruction to come upon our families, remember?

Mimiru: And look how much of that actually occured?

CM: That's not the point! I'm sure they have a weapons cache of very pointy, strong things just waiting to impale someone.

Mimiru: Now now, you forget, that was only the royal family! The peasants loved us!

CM: Don't get me started on the peasants. They treated us like gods, then expected us to perform miracles. I'll never get a moment's rest there.

Mimiru: I can't believe you are arguing this! It's obviously the best place to go. No technology, it is far off the beaten path, and I can guarantee none of the villains know about it.

CM: Okay, fine, but for the record, I tried to talk us out of it.

Mimiru: Then it is decided, we're going to Congo.

TLTE: Woh there, children. We didn't agree on anything. YOU just agreed with CM.

Antestarr: TLTE, although the idea does worry me, the place does sound like a good hideout. I cannot think of anything better, can you?

TLTE: Unfortunately, no. Fine then, to the Congo.

several hours into the future:

An unlit cigarette hangs between the detective's lips as he drives. The dashed lines of the highway blur into a flashback of burrito wrappers falling from the sky.
...............

Ares, Morris and Geb continue to cruise down the road in a red 1998 Astro Van.

Ares: So about your plan...

Geb: Oh yeah, I can't discuss details about that yet, but be aware that...

..............
VS: WHO EVER TOUCHED MY car is going to get a little taste of a woman's wrath.

Suddenly voodoo stands in a motionless shocked disbelief. her car is there but not as she remembers it when she parked it in the spot the last time. Years of exposure to the elements has taken its toll on the And to make matters worse it looks like someone from management has shown up somehow.

Mr. Stafford opens his suitcase and pulls out a clipboard with and pen, and waits for a moment and starts writing on some official looking forms.

-One point deducted, failure to greet a new convenience store of the damned guest.

Mr. Stafford walks past the scene and goes inside the store still jotting things down on the clipboard.

-Cash register unattended.
-Only five fried chickens in the case, no BBQ flavored only original
-perishable items not stored properly, burritos scattered on floor.
-Animals allowed inside store.

.................
outside the store VoodooS begins to feel panic and runs to Sarn.

VS: Did you did see that guy in the suit just go into the store, I think he is from the CSoD home office. and my car, and the dog is sick.

Sarn: whoa, slow down what is going on?

VS: I'm..we are going to be in trouble

Mimiru, CM, Ante and TLTE begin walking down the path within the dreamstate, awaiting their awakening. Light from the dreamlike sky above pierces the trees like daggers in a magicians box. TLTE looks around, noticing the sudden air of mystery.

TLTE Be on your guard.

CM What are you Spelunking about now!?

Mimiru Gah! Not that Spelunk business!

Ante Quiet you two! I also sense it... There!

Ante points ahead to a grouping of several fallen and rotting trees, all interwoven and as one. Almost as if meshed in along with it, a brittle looking body sits upon the masses highest branch. A low but cheerful humming comes from the figure as it bounces up and down to the rhythm of his tune.

CM You there, who are you!?

CoolMatty is greeted by silence.

Ante I don't like this.

Figure And why would you, Lord Antestarr? You have always been perceptive.

The figure chuckles and goes back to humming, his arms now swinging merrily along with his tune.

TLTE Old man, I don't think you understand-

Figure I do.

The figure interrupts TLTE with his a-matter-of-factly statement, then picks up on his humming just as quickly.

Mimiru I don't think he's an old man... (to the figure) Who are you? How do you know Ante?

Figure I know all of you. Lord Antestarr, Comrade The Last True Evil, Magehand CoolMatty... and you, I know you of all, my love, my precious Lady Mimiru...

The Figure's voice changes dramatically for his addressing of Mimiru, almost as if said unconsciously. She looks down as if thinking deeply, almost recognizing the voice. He turns his head finally, revealing a pale pink face, eyes bandaged, tears sparkling in the light like dew on wounded flesh. Mayaal stands up on the log, looking down at the 4 heroes.

Ante Mayaal... hand of NeS. I apologize for my rudeness.

CM Ha-hand of Ne-nes...?

TLTE Oh, the bloke that got us into this situation.

TLTE crosses his arms, obviously unimpressed. Mayaal, however, shows no signs of anger towards TLTE. Mimiru finally looks up at Mayaal.

Mimiru Why are you crying?

Mayaal I do not only take care of those who are Heroes within the NeS. I do not only fight for your causes, no. I fight for all good within NeS. And because of my wager, because of my mistake, Evil is winning everywhere. Children are dying where nurses would have saved them. Buildings are collapsing on the poor where food and water was to be delivered. Hate is overpowering good, and I can feel all of that. I live all of those experiencing because I am NeS.

Mimiru And you're sad?

Mayaal Angry. So angry. I will right these wrongs. I will defy these laws I myself have given this place. No, I apologize. We will. We, the good, my dear love Mimiru.

Mayaal's silence is longing, and Mimiru steps back. Coolmatty looks at her questioningly, but she only looks away. TLTE sneers in disapproval.

Ante We? We are at the mercy of these alter-egos, these-

Mayaal Potentials. They are indeed a threat. A threat you all could have overcome, had the tides of chance not been poisoned with Sarn's foolishness. No, my own foolishness.

TLTE Why are we supposed to trust you? Because you're a 'God?' Is that it? Is it because you have knowledge we don't? You've obviously proven yourself just as flawed as we are. Why is it, then, that you say 'We' will right things? I say 'we' opt 'you' out.

Ante Forgive him, Lord Hand of the NeS. He doesn't bide well with even us, his only friends. He wasn't always part of the Heroes...

Mayaal I don't expect you to trust me, Comrade. It wouldn't be in your nature. We can use that, however. Once I have corrected the imbalance, that is. You, however, all of you must seek safety. You're coming with me.

CM Where!? We're going to the Congo, it seems...

Mayaal I am taking you to a place where you will be able to truly test your abilities. I believe that where I will take you, you will be able to gain the skills required to prevail in this matter. The story arch, and possibly NeS in itself depend on it...

Mayaal suddenly spins, as from his trench coat, his fleshy hand grasping his knocked pistol gallantly extends. For a moment, he stands still, his pistol level with the mass of trunks. His revolver unloads a round at such a slow speed, the heroes check the world around them to see if they were moving in slow motion. The shot suspends in mid air for moments until it finally bores into the overgrown trees, gnawing away, creating a hole. A hole into the dreamstate itself. Peering into the whole, the NeS' see the deck of a yacht floating within white space as if a picture. Mayaal looks in.

Mayaal Enter. I will return momentarily. I must seek Arking Thand. I believe, beyond a lecture, he will be able to provide me with assurance in how to finish this bet. I believe ending the story arch will be my primary goal, but I am unsure until I seek his council. Go, enter.

Mimiru It's better than Congo, I guess.

What new magic and powers will this band of heroes gain within the realms of Leet that may assist them in their battle with the potentials? How will Mayaal finalize this plot? Will Mayaal seek out Sarn and punish him for his acts? What of Bhac? All, or maybe very little will be revealed, next time, on NeSquared!!!!

Arking Thand You have developed a wonderful little problem for NeS, Mayaal.

Mayaal Something I understand greatly. Please, you must understand the importance of time. I need you to tell me how powerful my word is. I may wield NeSMagic with no restrictions and rules, but I have no idea when I am and when I am not using NeSMagic. Is the bet bounding, and for how long?

Arking Thand crosses his library, pulling a book from the shelf. It's cover reads "Of NeS-Magic and its Wielders." He opens the book to a very specific page almost instantly and points to the fourth paragraph.

Arking Thand Absolutely bounding. You shaped the realm of NeS with each word.

Mayaal For how long?

Arking Thand For as long as you had said.

Mayaal 'This Story Arch.' But... what defines that Arch?

Arking Thand A villain’s defeat. It's always been that way.

Mayaal But... our only true villains are the potentials, and aren't they naturally occurring NeS phenomenon?

Arking Thand This, I do not know. You see, while you were gifted with the power of NeS itself, I was only given knowledge. If you'd been given my abilities, or I yours, we'd have far less to deal with. Wouldn't we?

Mayaal Thank you for your wisdom, master

Arking Thand Why... you've never been my student.

Mayaal I... don't know why I said that...

Arking Thand He's still got some of JKtW in him... and Qwerty it seems too... (out loud) Did you say you are taking those 4 to 1337?

Mayaal Yes. Now, more so than ever. Why?

Arking Thand While Bhac cannot enter your realm of white squares within 1337, he can see whatever he wishes to see there. I'd not keep them in 1337 a moment longer than need be.

Mayaal Understandable. Master Thand, I realize that if Bhac were to come here asking your assistance, you'd treat him no differently. I appreciate your suggestion.

Arking Thand I offer help, and help I have given. Now quickly, you have work to do.

Mayaal, without hesitation, blinks out of the dreamstate, and is then standing on his Yacht within the realm of 1337. Standing on the deck with him are 4 confused heroes

TLTE Quite a nice lot of nothing you've got here.

Mimiru What is this place?

Mayaal `Tis the realm of 1337. Well, what was once 1337, a pure realm of nothingness. Neither light nor dark, just nothingness. Negative space. Now it is both positive and negative space. 1337 represents the balance of NeS. You are standing on my imagination.

CM Crazy!

Mayaal Don't get too comfortable. I had planned on keeping you here for a much greater time than we must keep you here. Our 6 years must be kept to 1.

Ante Even a year seems like an awful long time... And we were going to stay for 6?

Mayaal The world of 1337 has no concept of time. A thousand years here is a minute in NeS. The only backfire is that you morals age at the same rate. A shame, really, as I would simply take all of the heroes here to train for a lifetime, then release them from this place as warriors of grandeur. Instead, I'll have to settle for slightly greater.

CM You said you mean to train us...

Mayaal Yes. We will begin now, with you...

A year of physical, mental, and educational challenges passes by in a montage. Finally, the 5 figures stand again on the Yacht.

Mirimu It feels like only 2 or 3 lines of text have gone by...

Mayaal 1337 is a fantastic way for writers to bypass lots of typing

Mirimu Aaah.

Mayaal Now, I have a final gift to each of you. Mageling CoolMatty.

CM Yes?

Mayaal You have an amazing amount of potential, something no teacher or amount of NeS magic could bring to any warrior. Because of this, my gift to you is almost insignificant. I give you confidence.

Mayaal reaches behind his head and unties his blindfold. Underneath, swollen wounds where eyes would be are gaping open, empty eye-sockets starring ahead. He places the piece of cloth in CoolMatty's hand.

CM That's gross.

Mayaal Use this blindfold when you must rely on your confidence. I believe it is truly your only lack. Use this wisely. By that, I mean that I don't want you to blindfold your stupid self when you've got to cross a tightrope or something that relies mostly on your eyesight.

CM Right.

Mayaal TLTE?

TLTE I suppose you're going to give me a heart? I am no tinman.

Mayaal It's a good thing you have that attitude, as I have none of that to give you. For you, I can only enhance your already amazing powers. I give you a box of tear-soaked bullets for your revolver. You'll find these as amazing tools of power. Be warned, however, that they are limited. They can only work against evil.

TLTE, almost unconcerned until he sees the bullets, suddenly takes interest in the package he now holds. He begins loading and unloading his pistol testing the chamber, and mock-aiming.

Ante I am not much of a warrior, Master Mayaal. I don't really expect you to have anything for me that will help us.

Mayaal I have for you something that only you will be able to take advantage of. Arking Thand is a wonderful man, but he works for the good of NeS itself, not for the heroes of NeS. I give you the knowledge of NeS, or what of it I know. This information is very sacred, and is meant only for it's use, and not for basic knowledge. Divulging these secrets without need would be highly detrimental to the continuity of NeS.

Ante I am grateful for this gift. I will begin reading immediately.

Ante actually opens the large leather bound book and begins reading. Mirimu avoids the eyes of Mayaal

Mayaal Mirimu, I have something for you that you will need. I give you the power of illusion. This magic is of immense responsibility. You can appear shorter, taller, prettier, uglier, stronger, weaker. It's power is limited, as actual identity changing requires more costume work than this power can offer you, but nonetheless, it is important. I believe it will serve you well, my love.

Mirimu I feel this change so sudden... It's amazing...

Mayaal It will take time for you to master it, but you do have this ability now forever born within you. As well, I suggest you continue practicing at the fire arts. Even in this year alone, you have progressed more than many fire-mages do in their first 5. You shall flourish.

Mirimu Where now? The Congo?

Mayaal Will you all be safe there?

Ante It's the best we can do. We truly appreciate you-

Ante is interrupted by the sounds of a jungle. The 4 heroes look around them to find no Mayaal

CM HOLY SPELUNK!

All SHUT UP!

With this sudden gift of power, will the 4 have the power to take on the potentials? Will the Congo Jungles reveal anything our heroes may need for their future combat? What oddity will Mayaal and Bhac run into now?

[Ok, just a quick post to solidify a few things, and solve a couple problems]

Sarn: What are you talking about "we." You're the one that wor- I mean uhh... Right... Well come on let's get out of here while we still can!

Voodoo: But... this is my job. I can't just leave.

Sarn: What has this job ever gotten you? You've worked here for longer than you can remember, and you're taking in minimum wage and living a boring, unfulfilling life.

Sok Munkey: That doesn't fix the fact that we don't have any transportation...

*Sarn is silent for a moment as he ponders this problem. Mr. Stafford starts walking towards Sarn and Voodoo, with a sour expression on his face. Suddenly, a plot hole swirls into existance near Sarn and Voodoo. A strange landscape can be seen through the plot hole.

Sarn: This is our chance! Come on!

Sarn steps towards the plothole.

Voodoo: I don't know about this... We don't even know what's on the other side... What if...

Sarn: Trust me Voodoo. I know this is the right thing. You just have to let go, and take a chance. Somehow I feel like we're meant to do this... I haven't felt this way in a long time... I've just been going about my life, like a leaf on the breeze. But I know this is right. Please come with me.

*Sarn holds out his hand to Voodoo and takes a step into the plothole. Voodoo looks back at the Convience Store of the Damned and the approaching Mr. Stafford. Conflict plays across her face. She looks back to Sarn, who seems to be holding open the plothole by sheer force of will. Slowly she reaches out and takes Sarn's outstretched fingers. Sarn quickly pulls her through into the new land. The plothole shimmers and closes behind them.

Sok Munkey: Wait a second... I thought fate was supposed to favor the bad guys? How did that plothole just open up like tha-

Sarn the Writer: Shut up.

*Where has the plothole taken Sarn and Voodoo? How will Sok Munkey and the others still at the Convience Store (of the Damned) handle Mr. Stafford? Will Sarn the Writer be fired for breaking the rules? Find out next time on NeSquared.

West The Writer: Oh no you don’t… I don’t go writing a four page post full of story and intrigue only to have it preempted by a plothole…* muttering to himself * I mean maybe it’s not the best post… but still… it’s the principal of the matter… I Mean "Plotholes" for god sake...

Meanwhile, an air of unspeakable dread has settled over the Convenience store of the DAMNED.

- Twinkies past expiration date
- Shoplifting notice improperly displayed
- Unnecessary use of plot-altering literally devices without proper permits

Mr. Stafford: Tisk Tisk Tsik…

*Mr. Stafford steps forward, the air still invisibly shimmering from the plothole that just closed over it. He tucks his clipboard underneath one arm, and reaches into his briefcase. He produces a pair of blue latex gloves. He sets the briefcase on the ground, and balances the clipboard on top. With the air of a surgeon puts them on. He reaches forward into the air before him, and grabbing the very fabric of NeS itself rips open another plothole. After stretching the plothole to just over twice human size, he steps back and removes the gloves, placing them back into the briefcase, and picks up the clipboard. After a few moments a faint screaming can be heard. Suddenly Sarn and Voodoo emerge tumbling from the second plothole.*

Mr. Stafford: We here at the Convenience store of the Damned take our responsibilities VERY seriously. Please wait here while I complete my inspection.

*Mr. Stafford re-enters the Convenience store of the Damned, and continues where he left off*

VS: What just happened? Why are we still here?

Sarn: Ummm… Im not entirely sure…You know you are looking very pale. Why don’t you sit down for a moment?

*Sarn Gently gestures to a dusty curb, begins to coax Voodoo towards it. Voodoo sits down silenty on the curb, her face suddenly very white and frozen in a mask of horror and apathy.*

Sarn: Now don’t you worry, Sok Munkey should have the car fixed in no time, and well be out of here before Mr. Suit finishes his inspection.

*Sarn makes a sweep in the direction of car and SM. Almost as if cued Sok Munkey lets out an annoyed grunt and the car begins leaking some sort of blue fluid. Realizing that VS ha not yet looked up from her crestfallen stare, he quickly changes the subject. *

Sarn: … Um, Why don’t you tell me a little bit about this whole Convince store thing then?

*Sarn slowly takes a seat beside Voodoo, and sees the opportunity to be supportive and caring. He moves to slowly but his arm around her shoulders, but no sooner had his muscles began to respond than the front door of the CSoD swung open, slowly, but with remarkable purpose. Mr. Stafford, holding the clipboard in one hand and his briefcase in the other emerges. His appearance has diverted the attention and gaze of all present, save Thatchett, who having followed Mr. Stafford out of the door, was preparing to “be sick” in a very convenient way.*

Thatchett (to himself): Call me an Animal will he? And I’ll have him know that one of those chickens was BBQ flavored, at least until I licked the sauce off. Does he think he can go around picking on poor little helpless Deli workers like this? *a thin grin appears across Thatchett’s face* I hope his shoes look good in power steering fluid…

*Before Thatchett has a chance to “be sick” however, he is frozen in an etheric terror. Mr. Stafford changes posture imperceptibly, and begins to speak.*

Mr. Stafford: Mrs… *he lifts peers at the name on the top of the clipboard* Snowflake… Can I have a word with you in my office?

*Without waiting for a response, He turns back into the store leaving an eerie silence behind, and Thatchett rapidly looking for somewhere else to “be sick”. Sarn, frozen with his arm halfway across Voodoo’s shoulders suddenly jumps into action.*

Sarn: Listen, don’t go in there. I’ll talk to him for you. I’ll tell him it’s all OUR fault. You were just doing your best to sell us Deli-meats and Soft drinks at a very reasonable price, WE were the ones trying to kidnap you.

*Voodoo, untouched by his kind and compassionate words, and acting as if in a trance, rises silent and follows after Mr. Stafford. Passing through the suddenly very empty convince store she makes her way to the “Employee’s Only” door at the back. Somewhere in her mind she knew that there were no “Offices” back there, but despite her cranial knowledge, her feet seemed to be convinced otherwise. Somehow, it did not surprise her when she found a previously unnoticed, or previous non-existent, door at the end of the hallway: past the break room, past the mop closet, past the store room, and just across from the employee bathroom (which somehow managed to be filthier than the public bathroom despite the fact that it was almost never used). He hand freezes slightly as it comes to rest on the doorknob, before she can even twist the handle, she finds the door opening, seemingly of it’s own accord. Stepping into a small decor-free office she takes a seat in the unassuming chair opposite from the unassuming desk where Mr. Stafford was sitting, his elbows on his briefcase, hands folded together in a very unassuming way.*

Mr. Stafford: Please, Mrs. Snowflake, have a seat. *he pauses for a moment as the still silence penetrates the room* Unfortunately, there are several things we need to Discuss…

*The door slams suddenly of it’s own accord, and the camera shifts suddenly back outside where Sarn is just making his way over to Sok Munkey.*

Sarn: Sok… I though this was Area’s car?

SM: It was…

Sarn: Then why did Voodoo say it was hers…*Sarn suddenly recognizes the tense in Sok’s last statement* WAS… What exactly do you mean by WAS???

SM: Well, most of the damage was not that bad. But the Body Frame was bent and the shocks were completely shot. I was just about to try hammering them back into shape when I saw this other car just around the back of the store.

Sarn: You Mean Voodoo’s car?

SM: Well… Now that you mention it, I bet it was her car. But it was all rusted up and the body panels were dented real bad like. But best of all, it was the EXACT SAME MODEL as Ares’s old car. So I start thinking how convenient this is…

Sarn: Yes, quite convenient, DAMNABLY convenient even… Let me guess, you used Voodoo’s car to fix Ares’ car?

SM: Yeah, and I even re-enforced the engine with the left-over parts.

Sarn: Re-Enforced the engine? Would this have anything to do with why I am standing on a puddle of radiator fluid right now?

SM: OH… Let me get that.

*With a sudden, and very dexterous swing Sok smashes his hammer into the side of the car. Quite surprisingly it does not even scratch the paint, yet the previous flow of radiator fluid managed to stop at the exact same moment the hammer struck the car. Unable to determine if he should be acting Impressed or Depressed, Sarn turns away from Sok and sits back down on the dusty curb. Thatchett emerges from behind a dumpster, presumably finished “being sick”. Seeing Sarn all alone he walks over and nudges him gently.*

Thatchett: Hey… You wouldn’t happen to have a breath mint would you?

Sarn: What?

Thatchett: It’s just, when we were in the van it smelled like someone had a fresh pack of breath mint’s… and I could really use one right now.

*Feeling the sudden uncomfortable silence, Thatchett wanders off again looking for food. Leaving Sarn to stare into the deep red sunset that has stained the desert the color of freshly spilt blood and cherry lollypops.*

A surprisingly large distance down the road, in the Astro Van

Morris: Are we there yet?

Geb: No.

Morris: Are we there yet?

Geb: No.

Morris: Are we there yet now?

Ares: NO!!

Morris: How the hell would you know? You don’t even know where we are going

Ares: I know that if you don’t shut up, you will NEVER get there.

Morris: Fine… Hey, you mind if I turn on the radio?

Geb: Sure, go ahead.

*Morris begins fiddling with the poorly designed yet plentiful knobs and buttons on the console, after several false starts he finally manages to get the radio on. He begins scanning up and down the airwaves, receiving nothing but static.*

Ares: Try the AM bands…

*Morris flips a few more buttons until the FM light goes out, and the AM light lights up in a surprisingly different color. After a few more moments of scanning he closes in on what seems to be the only receivable radio station. No sooner than he finishes tuning the station however, the knob breaks off in his large furry hand.*

Morris: I guess we wont be changing the station.

Ares: What is this?

Morris: I don’t know… Let me turn up the volume.

*No sooner than Morris ajust’s the volume knob to maximum the radio begins blasting Guitar chords in A minor and the drunken laments of a modern day cowboy. Surprised by the sudden blast of music, Morris Accidentally rips the Volume/power knob off the dashboard, The horrible horrible sound of country western music only partially discuses the unearthly terror in Ares’ voice.*

Ares: If you don’t turn this down NOW I will rip out your spine and impale you on it.

…

Sarn the Writer: Damn. I should have known better than to try and bend the rules...

Dude... We're back on the air. Quit the chatter...

Sarn the Writer: Oh... sorry.

Ahem... WHen we last left off, Voodoo Snowflakes had just disappeared into the Convenience store of the DAMNED. Sarn and Sok Munkey stand outside the store, kicking up the dust. Occaisionally Sok Munkey will glance over at the car and give it a swift thwack with his hammer. Thatchett has wandered around the side of the building and is currently nowhere to be seen. Suddenly a change comes over Sarn.

Sarn: Chief Engineer!

Sok Munkey: Wha?

Sarn: We've got to rescue Miss Snowflakes from the evil clutches of Mr. Stafford. Who knows what evil crimes against humanity he's subjecting her to. I know... We'll use my Fireteam strategy.

Sok Munkey: But uhh... Sir. There's just the two of us out here. Besides, the last time you used the Fireteam strategy it nearly bankrupt us.

Sarn: Don't question my orders, Chief Enginner Munkey. I don't take kindly to that... Anyway, as I was saying, Fireteams would be way to potent for this situation. So instead we'll use another strategy I've developed in my years as a starship captain. We'll divide into small groups called Sparkgroups. I'll lead Sparkgroup Alpha, and you'll be in charge of Sparkgroup Beta. Now, I'm going to lead Sparkgroup Alpha around back and flank our enemy. You wait here. Once I'm in position, I'll contact over the communicators, and you'll lead Sparkgroup Beta in a frontal assault. With any luck, we'll catch that evil Mr. Stafford with his pants down... Well... Not literally with his pants down I hope.

Sok Munkey: Sir, we don't have communicators.

Sarn: Nonsense. We're space men. Now then. Sparkgroup Alpha, ADVANCE!

Sarn trots confidentally around the side of the building. Sok Munkey rolls his eyes and heads inside the convenience store (of the DAMNED).

The Congo. It is tropical season, so TLTE, CM, Ante and Mimiru are soon rushing through the jungle basin to seek shelter from torrential rain. Eventually, after being thoroughly soaked, they conveniently find something of a cave in the side of a hill and run inside. CM leads the way in, playing absently with the blindfold in his pocket. Ante strides in after him, with Mimiru next. TLTE walks in last, his face clouded and forlorn. He looks deep in thought.

Mimiru: How on earth did this cave come to be? It must be man-made!

Ante: It must have been carved out by a plothole long ago...perhaps it's in this book, actually.

He sits against one of the walls of the cave and wipes a sheet of moisture off Mayaal's NeS book, flipping it open and studying it.

Ante: Fascinating...according to Mayaal, an NeSHero is invulnerable to the effects of age.

CM: What? How is that possible?

Ante: It's right here, in the book. He writes, "After scrutinising the NeSHeroes for all 51 pages of the original NeS, I have deduced that they are wholly unlike other conventional characters, to the point where their lifespan is...not unlike the story that they protect and maintain...infinite.

Mimiru: No way!

Ante: "The heroes are, of course, susceptible to pain and death cf p. 51 et al. but the act of becoming an NeSHero endows one with what can only be described as...eternal life."

CM: I bet you're cracking open the champagne already, eh, old man?

TLTE snorts contemptuously at him.

Ante: "I have yet to analyse whether the villains of the story gain similar properties of perpetuity (they seem to be more finite, overall, than the heroes) but it would appear that the heroes at least will be serving the NeS until the end of time..."

CM: Interesting. Our gift for protecting the NeS is to live forever?

Ante: Unless you're killed in the act of its protection...which seems more and more likely these days. *sigh* We don't even know who the villains are anymore, really...how can we hope to survive?

As Ante, CM and Mimiru discuss this point, TLTE sits in the darkest corner of the cave he can find. He loads his Smith and Wesson with one of Mayaal's evil-destroying bullets. Slowly, he turns around and faces them, gun in hand. Ante is the first to notice him, and looks warily at his gun-hand.

Ante: TLTE...what are you doing?

TLTE: You're absolutely right, tovarish. We don't know who the villains are anymore. But we can find out, can't we?

Slowly, he raises his gun to point at his own head.

CM: TLTE!

TLTE: If I'm really good, it won't hurt me. Right?! That's what Mayaal said!

Mimiru: TLTE, don't do that!

TLTE: If I'm really no threat to you anymore - if I'm an NeSHero - then I'll be fine!

He cocks the gun. Ante stares hard at him.

TLTE: Ante, I need to know. I'm on your side, right? You believe me?

Ante: That's...not a risk you should take. Comrade.

TLTE looks at them all for a few long moments, then lowers the gun.

TLTE: Right.

Ante: Try to get some rest. All of you.

CM: We haven't slept for a long time, that much is true. But what are you going to do?

CM glances sidelong at TLTE as he says this, still shaken. Shadows cross Ante's face as he replies, and for a moment he looks as old as Arkng Thand.

Ante: I'm going to read some more.

The scene in the jungle shimmers and fades, leaving only a darkness behind. A voice speaks.

Bhac: Did you really think me that thick, Mayaal? Did you really expect that would not be watching your every move, after the trick you pulled?

Bhac waves his hand and a several large red squares appear. The red glow fades to reveal scenes from Qwerty's lab, Mayaal's Yacht, the Convenience Store of the Damned, and the Minivan, the later of which is still currently racing down the highway.

Bach: You may be able;e to block me from entering your side of 1337 when you so will it, Mayaal, but you can never stop me from seeing it all. You're little liaison with the Heroes will not go unpunished. But enough monologuing, i have work to do...

Bhac waves his hands and the images shimmer and die once again. Then Bach flows into a puddle of blood and is gone from 1337.

Meanwhile (nescount: too many), at the Convenience store OF THE DAMNED!, Sok Munkey is walking lazily past the shelves towards the back of the store, and the sign marked 'Employees Only'. Thatchett walks behind him, listening as Sok mutters to himself.

Sok Munkey: Sheesh, why am i even following this guy? He doesn't appear sane, he's already gotten hawthorne's car stolen, doesn't appreciate my car fixing skills, and i wouldn't have put it past him to have brough this suit here by accident!

Thatchett: Well, you know, you have to admit that things have become quite intersting since he showed up.

Sok Munkey turns around and looks down at Thatchett.

Sok: Well, yeah, i suppose you're right on that count. I suppose i might as well hand around to find out what happens here...

Sok Munkey turns around walks into the 'Employees Only' area, Thatchett close on his heels.

MEANWHILES (nescount: not again!)

In Qwerty's lab, things are in a bad state. A rather thick layer of dust covers the piles of mechanical debri caused by JKTW's and Qwerty's fatal duel. There's a large clear area in the center where the duel ended, and it looks almost like a meteor smashed into the floor, as the steel plates that cover the floor of the lab have been smashed in to create a large bowl. In the center of this, blood pulses out of the floor and creates the form of Bach. He looks around himself, and then bow's his head in silence, out of respect for the deathplace of his fathers.

After a long minute, Bhac looks up again and starts moving up from the bowl over to what used to be another clear area. He sweeps his and and the dust and pieces of metal and wires are flung out of the area, leaving it clear once again. He walks over to a workbench nearby and picks up a small PDA-like device. He taps a few commands onto it and waits a few minutes.

Meanwhile (nescount: how many times are we allowed to use this in one post?), in the Astrovan, things aren't going too well. Morris is huddled in the back with his paws over his ears, looking with equal shares of horror at the broken, but still working, radio in the front seat, and towards Ares, who is attempting to make it into the back seat to assult Morris for the music. Geb is trying to keep the car against the similarly destructive forces of Country music and Area's occational flailing kicks.

Geb: My god, Ares, stop with the flailing, you'll run us off the road!

Ares: No! I need to make Morris pay for this pain in my ears! AAAGGHH!

Morris, cowering: I'm sorry! I don;t know what happened! Just leave me alone!

Ares: Eitehr fix this mess or let me destroy you, you overgrown rodent!

Morris: I can't fix it with you in the way, you're tear me to bits before i even get close!

Area: AAAAGGGHH!

Back in Qwerty's lab, Bhac waits patiently. Within a few second there is a shimmer, and six robots appear in the center of the clear area. Five of them are humanoid, and skeletal in design. A slight blue tint can be seen on the metal. They are an almost exact replica of a human skeleton except for a chest area which has a large metal plate across it instead of the network of ribs. On what for lack of a better word shall be called the humerus' of four of the skeletal robots are very nasty looking guns. The fifth robot, on the far right, holds two sharp daggers in its hands. Thier eyes glow blue.

Behind these five a small round robot with a gun mounted on it hovers in midair. It is perfectly sperical except for the gun mount, which protrudes from the bottom of the sphere. Around its equator small green lights blink on and off.

Bhac: Ah, Thrawnbots 49996 through 50000, and the assassination bot. My father's greatest creations. But, in this form, you are all just machines, robots, tools to be used and disposed of. In this state you could be easily dispatched by the heroes, as they hold the power of character. But i shall change that.

Bhac walks around the skeletal robots to where the assassination bot hovers.

Bhac: Assassination bot, you who can fire invisible, and sow distration and confusion among thier ranks, i rename 'Chaos'. You shall now have a voice, and be able to distract and confuse the ranks of good to no end, with shots in the dark and voices in thier ears. They shall learn to fear the chaos you sow.

He places his hand on the bot and it glows red for a moment. A soft, wispery voice eminates from it.

Chaos: As you say, my lord.

Bhac nods, and then moves to the robot on the far right. Thrawn 49996.

Bhac: Thrawn 49996. You i shall name Apollo. You shall gain the power of accuracy, and you will be capable of hitting targets at impossible distances. Your shots shall rain down on the heroes like arrows cast from the sun.

He places his hand on the robot's chest and it glows red. As the glow fades Apollo's eyes turn from blue to white, and a white circle appears on his chestplate. He bows, more fluidly then one would expect from a skeleton.

Apollo: My liege.

Bhac passes to the next robot down and palces his hand upon its chest.

Bhac: Thrawn 49997. To you I grant the power of speed. You shall have the ability to move far faster then the eye can follow, and fire shots at a record rate. You shall be known as Hermes.

The robot glowes red, and when it fades Hermes' eyes are red and a wing shows on his chestplate. He bows, and Bhac moves on to the next robot.

Bhac: Thrawn 49998. You're name shall be Zeus. I grant you magnitudes of power. You're shots shall now be like grenades, leaving craters where they land.

Zeus glows red and when it fades his eyes are yellow and his chestplate displays a thunderbolt. Bhac moves to the last of the robots with guns.

Bhac: Thrawn 49999. To you I will grant the power of protection. Your being is now almost indestructable, and your guns can create a shield in front of them, which cannot be passed. You shall be known as Athena.

Athena glows red and as it fades sn Aegis shield is seen on her chestplate. Her eyes glow green. She bows. Bhac moves on to the final robot.

Bhac: My father's final, and best, creation. I have little to give you. Your true name shall be kept secret, though i am sure you're enemies will name you something on thier own. To you I shall make but a small change. you're daggers will now be forever sharp, and will be able to cut through any obstacle. Also, they shall return to you when thrown. You shall lead these, my minions.

This time Bhac places his hand on the robot's head. It glows red, and when it fades its eyes glow a deep red. Its daggers are also now blood red. It bows deeply, and a rasping voice issues from it.

...: Master, you honor us with your gifts. How may we serve you?

Bhac: Good, good. Your task should be an easy one. I have reprogrammed your teleporter coordinates to a small village in the congo. Go there, and find a small band of heroes who are hiding in a cave nearby. Your task is to make thier time there as difficult as possible. I wish to show up Mayaal. Do not kill them, i have plans for them later. But make thier lives as hard as you can. Also, it may behoove you to rouse the natives in the village agains the heroes through trickery, as i have information that the villagers may not be at all friendly with they heroes. Carry out your task in any manner you see fit. If, somehow, any of you become damaged, use your teleporters to return here, and i shall see to your repair. Good luck.

...: Very well, my lord. We shall carry out your wishes.

With that, all the robots disppear, and Bhac is again left alone. He looks around Qwert's lab once again.

Bhac: It is good that my father's work can once again be put to a use. Perhaps once day i shall return to carry on his work here, the knowlage contained here is massive.

One last time he looks over the broken machinery, and then collapses into a puddle of blood and is gone. Once again, Qwerty's lab sleeps in silence.

MEANWHILE (nescount: oh, god, i thought we were finished with this)

As the minivan hurtles down the road, Ares has just managed to get free of the seatbelt in the front seat and is now chasing Morris around the back of the Minivan. Thier movement is again causing Geb to lose control of the car as the hurtle bakc and forth. Geb turns around to yell at them.

Geb: Will the two of you cut it out? I can't keep control!

Ares: No! I will have his head!

Morris: Noo! leave me alone! It wasn't my fault!

Radio:And when there's dark clouds in my eyes
He just sits back and lets 'em roll on by
I come in like a lion go out like a lamb
My baby loves me just the way that I am
My baby loves me just the way that I am

Ares: AAGGHHH!!

Geb yells once more and then turns back around just in time to see a man dressed almost all in black right in front of the speeding car, only about 20 feet down the road. Geb yells and slams on the breaks, but not fast enough. He slams right into the man and blood splatters the hood and winshield. Geb stops the car and stares at the blood, stunned. Ares notices the stop and look forward.

Ares: Geb? why'd we stop he- Oh! Gross!

Morris: What? Oh, god, Geb, that's disgusting!

Geb: He was just.. right there in the road... i couldn't...

Geb stops talking as the blood starts moving, apparently of its own volition. It seeps straight through the winshield and then drips onto Ares' chair, where it swirls into the form of Bhac. All three villains stare at him with a mixture of horror and intruige.

Bhac: I'm sorry for the scare, everyone, but i found it necessary to gain your attention. I wish to offer you my assistance.

Ares: ugh. Flashy, er, bloody effects aside, what could you possibly offer us of assistance?

Bhac calmly points at the radio and it immediately shorts out, stopping the dreaded music. tiny beads of blood leak out at the corners. There is a collective sigh of relief.

Bhac: As i said, i am here to offer assistance.

MEANWHILE! (nescount: last one, i swear)

At the Convenience Store of the Damned, Sok Munkey is making his way down the corridor with Thatchett trailing behind him. As he turns a corner at the end and sees a odd man at the end beside a door marked "Office". He is wearing a long black cloak, a red vest, a black shirt, black pants, and exquisitely shined black shoes. A large amount of wild, unkept white hair flows down his back, and an immaculately trimmed goatee adorns his chin. His eyes are wide and bloodshot, and his hands are emaciated and bleeding. Bhac.

Bhac: Ah, Sok Munkey. i was wondering how long it would take you to get here. You took you're time.

Sok: Well, yeah, i figured Sarn would be outside for a while, what with ther being no back entrance and all, and- wait, hey, who the hell are you! And how do you know my name?

Bhac: Ah, Sok, don't be alarmed. I know much about you. My name is Bhac. i travelled with you for s short while under the guise of Bach. It was unfortunate, but necessary that you didn't know my true form. But the time for discretion has past. And i am here to offer you and your comrades assistance.

Sok: Assistance you say? What kind of assistance?

Bhac: All in good time, Sok Munkey. First, we have to wait for Mr. Stafford to finish with the good Ms. Voodoo.

And so the two wait patiently at the door.

*Just a few feet away from Bhac and Sok, yet seemingly isolated from them as if by distances and perils unthinkable, Mr. Stafford slowly taps his fingers together as he reads quickly from a pile of papers set in front of him. Across the fine Italian desk sits Voodoo Snowflake frozen and restrained by the darn and sinister powers of middle management. The room itself has become as a pool of darkness to her, though dusty light streams in from small barred windows set high into one of the walls. She sits there, opposite Mr. Stafford, Unable to move, think, or even feel, awaiting his next word… His EVALUATION. After an eternity of empty silence, Mr. Stafford stops tapping his fingers, and straitens in his seat. *

Mr. Stafford: Ms. Snowflake, Here at the Convenience store of the Damned, we care about our employees, but we also care about being efficient and professional. You have been in employ of this company for quite some time, and until recently your record has been nearly spotless. I understand that I might have come at an “inconvenient” time, and I would be woefully neglect to blame all that has transpired here today on you.

*Mr. Stafford rests for a moment, and attempts to look deeply into the Eyes of VS. *

Mr. Stafford: Ms. Snowflake, Do you know what the mark of a true professional is? … A true professional is someone who never compromises his or her responsibilities no matter what happens… no matter what. I understand that… These Customers Today… Well, let’s just say that we both know they are far from ordinary customers. But Ultimately, that is no excuse for you to let your other responsibilities wane.

*Mr. Stafford again rests in silence. *

Mr. Stafford: Ms. Snowflake, do you understand what I am saying?

*Voodoo responds quietly and after a moments pause. *

VS: Yes…

Mr. Stafford: Good… Good… Now. Ms. Snowflake, I think it’s time you understood something, something very important. Do you know how long you have been working here? *silence hangs in the air for a moment as Mr. Stafford waits for a response* No? Do you remember what your last job was before this? *again he pauses, but this time the silence is shorter, as if he knows the answer* NO? Ms. Snowflake… Who are you? Surly you can answer this? *Mr. Stafford’s gaze is unflinching as he pauses again* Ms. Snowflake… Do you remember ANYTHING?

*This time the silence seems noisier, as if Voodoo was trying to break through. He face and mouth remained still, yet her eyes screamed as if they themselves wanted to answer. *

Mr. Stafford: Ms. Snowflake, Let me remind you of what you have forgotten. I its no surprise to me that you have forgotten why you are here… you have been here after all… A very very long time. Ms. Snowflake, Do you know why this place is called the Convenience store of the Damned? Is it because our deli meats are old and our fountain drinks flat? NO! Its because everyone who works at one of our stores is DAMNED. You see, it all comes down to stories; everything here comes back to stories. Do you know what happens when a character no longer can play a role in a story, yet no one bothers to kill them off or let them live happily ever after? They are lost Ms. Snowflake, No one remembers them, and no one cares about them, they have no future, no present, and in time, they will even lose their past. They are, in the truest sense of the word, damned.

*Mr. Stafford takes a moment to sit back more casually in his chair for a moment, and then rifles through the papers spread across his desk for a moment. He picks up one particular piece of paper, and sets it on top of the pile. *

Mr. Stafford: Ms. Snowflake, Do you know what happens to the forgotten characters after they become damned? Well, I can tell you. They die the most horrible death imaginable; they suffer endlessly, and with no hope of redemption. Tormented by what could have been, and what should have happened, they live forever. That is… UNLESS we save them. That’s right Ms. Snowflake, we HIRE the damned. We give them simple jobs, and we let them go on living. In time they may forget their past, as you have done, but they can never be the same again. I will not lie to you Ms. Snowflake, there is no hope of redemption. The best you can wish for is to continue to work and live silently here in one of our stores. You see, there is one rule, one simple rule that all our employees must abide by. They can never become part of another story again. That’s the problem Ms. Snowflake, It’s not the unmanned register, or the moldy deli meats, or the mess in the men’s bathroom, It’s the STORY. These people who have come here today, they are part of a story, a big grand story. And until I got here you were just about to get swept away with it. Ms. Snowflake, your story has passed. I want to make sure you understand that. I can see in your eye’s that you know this, that you feel your own past, don’t let it take hold of you. If you follow these people, if you become part of their story… Well, I can’t say what will happen to you, but there will be nothing we… nothing I could do to save you.

*Mr. Stafford again sits back in his chair, folding his hand’s in front of his chest. *

Mr. Stafford: We care… I care what happens to you, what happens to all our employees. So here is what I am going to do.

*Mr. Stafford reaches into the stack of papers, and produces a particular sheet which he slides in front of Voodoo. *

Mr. Stafford: This is a list of all our other stores that are currently in need of a new manager. If you agree to forget this whole silly story business, I will transfer you to one of our other locations, and after a short training period we will make you a manager. You won’t be alone anymore, you will work with other’s like you, other damned employees. Take a look at that list, and let me know if anything interests you.

*MEANWHILE, Several moments ago, yet simultaneously at the same time (Employee reviews are funny like that). The following has been transpiring just outside of the (remarkably soundproof) Door behind which Mr. Stafford and Voodoo have been holding their very heartfelt discussion. *

Sok: So… umm… We just wait here?

Bhac: For a time… Yes.

Sok: Ok…Ummm… Listen, we just thought you went to the bathroom, we honestly did not know you were even gone.

Bhac (in a very disinterested tone): Is that so…

*Several moments of uncomfortable silence pass, punctuated only by the occasional coughing and garbling stomach noises of Thatchett. Suddenly, the silence comes to an abrupt end as Sarn’s voice, sounding as if it was screamed through several convince store wall (which of course, it was) drifts past. *

Sarn: MR. MUNKEY, REPORT IN.

Sok, looks very sheepishly at Bhac, and tries very hard to ignore what he just heard.

Sarn: MR. MUNKEY, CAN YOU READ ME! THIS IS CAPTIAN CADRILL. COME IN. OVER.

Thatchett: You better answer him… he might be *Thatchett chuckles to himself for a moment* in trouble or something…

Sok: Fine… fine… CAPTIAN, I READ YOU. OVER.

Sarn: MR. MUNKEY, WHAT IS YOUR CURRENT SITUATION.

Sok: I AM CURRENTL IN POSITION OUTSIDE OF THE OFFICE WHERE THEY ARE HOLDING VOODOO.

Sarn: GOOD, HOLD YOUR POSITION MR. MUNKEY, TRY TO STAY CONSCELED AND MAINTAIN RADIO SILENCE, YOU DON’T WANT TO REVEAL YOUR POSITION.

*Hearing this, Thatchett starts laughing quietly to himself. Sok roll his eyes, and finaly realizing the futility of it all, responds. *

Sok; RODGER THAT, WILL HOLD POSITION OUTSIDE OF OFFICE DOOR AND MAINTAIN RADIO SILENCE. MR. MUNKEY OUT.

*Yet another MEANWHILE, in the dusty parking lot of the Convenience store of the damned, Officer Phil is just beginning to come around. The shock of having fallen through two very unexpected plot holes have left him physically intact, but for some reason he is completely exhausted, fighting every moment to remain alert and awake. He attempts to open his eyes, but all he can make out is a deep red blur. After a moment he thinks he can hear shouting in the distance, but he is unable to make out the words. For a while longer he rests silently in the gravel, then suddenly something else grabs his attention. This time it is significantly closer, and much easer to make out… And for some reason the voice seems very familiar. *

…: This is car 247 to dispatch approaching marker 113 on 53rd heading south. Over.

…: Rodger that car 257, cars 23 and 156 are currently in-route down 53rd north, hold position upon arrival and do not engage, repeat do not engage until backup arrives. Over.

…: This is car 247, Rodger that.

*Officer Phil, using the last of what little of his strength remained, reaches down to his belt, and detaches the radio. To weak to lift it, he drags it across the gravel until it rests in front of his face. The depresses the broadcast button, and in a weak and feeble voice begins speaking into the radio: *

Phil: This is officer *cough*… Phil Redman… In need of assistance, officer down… repeat… officer down…

*The last of his strength exhausted, he looses consciousness. For some time the radio chatters on unheard, until finally, silence…*

At the convenience store of the damned...

Just as Sok Munkey finishes his conversation with Sarn through the wall, the "Employees Only" door opens, and Mr. Stafford and a downcast Voodoo Snowflakes emerge.

Bhac: Ahh, Mr. Stafford. It's so very nice to see you again.

Mr. Stafford glances up in surprise.

Mr. Stafford: Bhac. What a pleasant surprise. You'll have to excuse me momentarily. Corporate matters and all. Miss Snowflakes has just made a very important decision, and as her employer I need to go over some things with her and equip her for success as she moves forward in her career. But please, stick around. We must catch up on old times.

Sok: Wait a minute. You two know each other?

Bhac: We've had dealings in the past. And Mr. Stafford, of course. One of my primary motivations for this trip was to meet with you. We shall have to talk later.

At that moment, the confident voice of Sarn_Cadrill can be heard through the wall.

Sarn: MR. MUNKEY. REPORT IN. I HEAR VOICES IN THERE. WHAT'S GOING ON?

Sok: UHH, MUNKEY REPORTING, SIR. MISS SNOWFLAKES AND MR. STAFFORD HAVE EMERGED FROM THE OFFICE.

Sarn: EXCELLENT. STALL THEM FOR A MINUTE, I'M TAKING AN ALTERNATE ROUTE TO YOUR POSITION. AND MUNKEY, DON'T LET ON THAT I'M COMING. I'D LIKE TO TAKE STAFFORD BY SURPRISE IF I CAN.

Bhac and Mr. Stafford eye each other briefly then look at Sok Munkey.

Sok: UHH, ROGER THAT SIR. I WON'T SAY ANYTHING, SIR.

Voodoo: That voice... I think I remember that voice from earlier. Who was that, Mr. Stafford?

Mr. Stafford: It was no one. A man from another story. He means nothing to you or your career. Come along, Miss Snowflakes, we must discuss your promotion.

Mr. Stafford takes Voodoo's hand and begins to lead her down the hallway towards the front of the store. They've taken only a handful of steps when Sarn appears at the end of the hallway. It's apparent that he's retraced his steps and ultimately taken the same route as Sok Munkey to the hallway.

Sarn: Not so fast, Mr. Stafford. I'm taking Voodoo with me. She's had enough of your terrible working conditions and poor wages.

Mr. Stafford: Mr. Cadrill. You do have a knack for getting in the way of honest career advancement don't you? Miss Snowflakes has no interest in going with you.

Voodoo: Who is this man, Mr. Stafford?

Bhac: Kern... Kern Saldin.

Bhac speaks slowly, as though his tongue is savoring the name. At the mention of the name, Sarn's demeaner changes. His shoulders slouch slightly and his usual radiant confidence is replaced by a heavy aura of distrust. When he speaks, his voice is deeper and possesses a light british accent.

Sarn (Kern): Shael. I've waited long for the day we would meet again. On this day our dispute will be settled. All will be set right and balance of the cosmos will be restored to the sound of wailing and gnashing of teeth.

Sarn (Kern) produces a jewel-encrusted dagger from his cloak. The dagger seems to shine in the dim hallway.

Bhac: Fool. You could not possibly hope to defeat me with that trinket. Give up your fight. I have no quarrel with you.

Sarn (Kern): I know who you are. You may change your face, but you cannot change the stink of your evil soul. Long have I awaited this day. Before the sun sets on this night, your body will begin to rot and your soul will be banished to the darkest, deepest level of hell.

Sok: Sarn? What are you talking about? What's going on?

Sarn (Kern) seems to notice Sok Munkey and the others for the first time.

Sarn (Kern): Stand aside, peasant. There will be danger, and this does not concern you.

Bhac laughs.

Bhac: Sok, it would seem our friend Sarn_Cadrill is more crazy than any of us realized. I have no idea what he's even talking about.

Sarn (Kern): You spoke my name before Shael. There is no reason for you to claim ignorance now.

With this, Sarn (Kern) dives forward towards Bhac. He moves with such speed that he is behind Bhac and plunging his dagger into Bhac's lower back before Sok Munkey even realizes he's finished speaking. Only Bhac is no longer there and Sarn (Kern)'s dagger slices only into air. All that can be seen of Bhac and Sarn (Kern) as they battle is a blur of darkness. Blood splatters on the walls, but the onlookers cannot begin to make out whose blood it is. Suddenly there is a bright flash of light. A form seperates from the dark blur moving along the hallway and careens out of the hallway towards the front of the store. Bhac stands triumphantly in the hallway, his expression calm. The whole battle is over in a matter of seconds. A single wound can be seen on Bhac, a long thin ribbon of red running from just under his left eye across his cheek to the bottom of his left nostril.

Bhac closes his eyes and breathes deeply. A moment passes. A look of frustration creeps over his face. He mutters to himself...

Bhac: wound... why won't... heal...

Sok Munkey: Sarn... Is he... dead?

Bhac: He will survive. I only caused enough damage to disable him for the time being. I'm afraid his psychosis is more severe than we thought. I know you and the others have humored his silly antics as a starship captain because he is harmless. But something more has shown itself to us today. Mr. Stafford, I'm afraid we will have to catch up another time. I must take Sarn with me. Perhaps I can find a way to cure him of this mental illness.

Bhac walks towards the front of the store. Sok Munkey, Mr. Stafford, and Voodoo Snowflakes follow him. As they step out of the hallway, Sarn's inert form can be seen against a toppled shelf. Twinkies and other snacks are strewn about the floor. Sarn himself is hardly recognizable. His clothing is shredded and bloodstained, and long, crimson scars cover his body. Smoke rises from a gaping wound in his abdomen. He breathes shallowly. Sarn's dagger lays a few feet away from Sarn's outstretched right hand. Bhac's attention focuses on the dagger.

Bhac: That dagger. I must take it away from Sarn before he does any more harm.

As Bhac reaches for the dagger, a plothole swirls into existance beneath Sarn. Both he and the dagger disappear into the plothole, which quickly closes.

Bhac: MAYAAAAAAAL!!!

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

Sarn opens his eyes and squints against the bright light. A form hovers over him, but Sarn is unable to make out any features. His entire body aches. What has happened? The last he remembers is seeing Voodoo, Mr. Stafford, and Sok Munkey in the hallway at the Convience Store of the Damned. But wait. There was another. Who was that man? Sarn struggles to sit up.

voice: Please be still. You must heal quickly. You cannot stay long. I've already bent the rules far more than I should have.

Sarn: Where am I?

voice: Somewhere safe. What were you thinking, trying to pick a fight with Bhac? I must say, you fared much better than I expected... But you are lucky Bhac spared your life.

Sarn: Bhac? Who... What are you talking about? Who are you?

voice: My name... is Mayaal.

dramatic music...

----

Who is this new alter-ego, Kern Saldin, and what is his relationship to Bhac? What will happen to Voodoo Snowflakes and Sok Munkey? What is the connection between Bhac and Mr. Stafford? The only way to find out is to tune in for the next episode of NeSquared!

Still at the convenience store of the damned…

Bhac, having just unleashed a tremendous rage within quivers slightly, his entire body shaking from anger, fear, or both. His face remains stone cold, yet deep behind the mask of flesh emanates a look of both panic and anguish. He stands at the edge of a void in the stains and smears of Sarn’s (Kern’s) blood, a perfect circle of clean tile floor where the plot hole had just appeared. After a moment, Mr. Stafford steps forward, still leading Voodoo snowflake by the hand, and re-examines the scene around him.

Mr. Stafford: (aside, but clear enough to be heard by everyone present) Quite an interesting occurrence, really. (addressing Bhac in particular) I hate to interrupt you, but I just want to ensure you will cause no further interference in the matter of Ms. Snowflake today.

Bhac replies with a cold and disinterested voice, but there still resonates an air of duty and slight respect in it.

Bhac: Do what you must, this little “project” of yours has always been of little interest to me.

Mr. Stafford: Very good… I wish you the best of luck helping restore “sanity” to that poor man. And when you have finished, I will look forward to our little conversation. I shall be sure to prepare suitable snacks and drinks in order that we might catch-up casually and discuss the matters at hand. *Mr. Stafford gives a shallow bow in the direction of Bhac* Good day.

Sok Munkey, obviously unsure of the events that just transpired, begins taking action as if to bar Mr. Stafford’s progress, who continues to take no notice of his presence. Before Sok can even open his mouth, Mr. Stafford and Voodoo brush right past him on their way to the front door. Just as Sok was preparing to respond to this indignity, the chime on the front door rings softly, marking the appearance of Hawthorne in the doorway. Seemingly oblivious to the disorder and bloody battle field that have now reigned upon the store, he marches directly up to Voodoo. He takes a moment to look at her name tag again, and then barring her and Mr. Stafford’s path, addresses her.

Hawthorne: Excuse me Ms. Voodoo… I was wondering if I could… Buy some Milk… (he nods his head slightly in the direction of the cash register)… I know I might just be a bad time, but I think me and my friends might be leaving shortly…

Hawthorne is cut short as Mr. Stafford gently pushes Voodoo behind him and interrupts Hawthorne.

Mr. Stafford: I’m sorry, But we are closed right now.

Hawthorne: Umm… Well… That’s not what the sign on the door says… Look, see… It says open 24/7… So I would like some milk… Please?
Mr. Stafford: I do apologize good patron, but Ms. Snowflake here is very eager to get to her new assignment.

Hawthorne: Really?… It looks more like you just told her that her Grandmother died…

Mr. Stafford: It may look that way, But I assure you sir that she is simply very excited about her new promotion, and very well she should be! She has worked hard and long, and now she is receiving the recognition she deserves.

Hawthorne: Ohh… well… If that’s the case when will someone come to take her place at the register?

Mr. Stafford: Soon, very soon. We always have a very large pool of eager employees ready to work for us at the convenience store of the damned.

Suddenly Thatchett come running flat out down one of the Isles, he quickly takes position by Hawthorne’s side, and bears his teeth, and begins to growl.

Thatchett: Don’t trust him… He is a lying git, I can smell it.

Hawthorne (to Thatchett): Really? Are you sure about this?

Thatchett: Completely, He has the smell of a cheat, and a liar, and *Thatchett growls loudly* A SUIT!

Hawthorne (to Thatchett): Yeah, I can kinda see that. (addressing Mr. Stafford) Listen you… I… I know who you are… and what you are trying to do…

Mr. Stafford (chuckling slightly): Oh really? You know who I am? Well who am I then?

Hawthorne: You’re a suit, a dirty filthy suit, and you are imposing yourself and your ways on that poor employee there.

Thatchett: Yeah… And she was nice to me too…

Mr. Stafford (laughing outright): A suit? All this from a filthy hobo who wants some milk, and his talking dog… This is really too much…

Mr. Stafford goes to take a step forward and brush Hawthorne aside, but he stops suddenly, the laugh gone from his voice.

Mr. Stafford: Say… Have we met before? You… You look rather familiar…

Hawthorne: I have met many of your kind before.

Mr. Stafford (with sudden concern in his voice): What?

Hawthorne: You’re a Suit, you’re just like every other corporate or bureaucratic suit out there.

Mr. Stafford (his voice returning to normal): Is that it kid? No no no… Have I ever… Have you…No. I guess not, Listen, would you mind please stepping aside, we are in a bit of a hurry.

Hawthorne: Release her.

Mr. Stafford: Who? Ms. Snowflake here? *He gently pulls her to his side, and then releases her hand, holding both of his hands above his head* Like I said, she is on the way to a new assignment.

Hawthorne stares momentarily at the released Voodoo, who, as though still under a trance, stands emptily at Mr. Stafford’s side. Suddenly seizing the opportunity, he grabs something from one of the many numerous pockets on one of his many numerous jackets, and clutching it in his fist, lunges at Mr. Stafford. He strikes Mr. Stafford Directly on his left cheek with a very satisfying thud. Mr. Stafford is forced back slightly from the force of the blow, but is otherwise seemingly unaffected. Before Hawthorne can deliver a follow up, Mr. Stafford simply brushes past him, and makes his way out the door, Voodoo following silently behind him.

Hawthorne’s grip relaxes, and a small polished stone falls from his grasp and clatters onto the tile floor. Thatchett growls briefly as the figures of Voodoo and Mr. Stafford turn a corner and disappear around the side of the store. Bhac, having never looked up from his pensive stare at the bloody void on the floor continues in his dedicated silence. Rolling around deep in his head everything he knew about Sarn. Sok steps forward, coming to a stop next to Hawthorne and Thatchett, and joining them in their stair into the ever growing twilight.

Faintly, far off in the distance, the sound of sirens can be rise, like the sound of the purple darkness they accompany.

Text rolls and bends, adjectives and verbs and sentence structures and minute story twists and flourishing details. "Edge" and "Hilt" and "Crimson Red" glide past Mayaal as he reads the dagger in his hand. He looks up to read Sarn standing.

Mayaal An interesting device you have here, Sarn. You seem to bring a great deal of chaos to NeS, don't you?

Mayaal's voice sounds rather cold. Sarn looks around at the white nothingness of 1337. He then brings his gaze down upon Mayaal. The image of a somewhat human figure staring down at a knife. A peculiarity as the man is blindfolded.

Sarn Where... is this?

Mayaal Best you don't know.

Sarn Why have you taken me here?

Mayaal Because, you're a problem. A great problem. You dance on the lines of good and evil, and you are, essentially, the root of my problems at the moment. However, I will not lay blame to you, no. I do, however, have a punishment. I believe, however simple this punishment is, it will stop you from causing anymore chaos within NeS. Evil, Bhac can handle. Good, I have full trust in. Chaos, however, is something that neither of us so much enjoy. You breed it. And this knife...

What punishment has Mayaal planned? What horrible things are in store for Sarn? How will Mayaal use this dagger? Find out next time on NeSquared!

Detective: After what seemed like hours of searching, I’d finally found my mark. These internal monologues were starting to pay off, but I was sure, that in the deep recesses of my heart, that we were about to get a break, and a big one at that.

Detective: We were travelling along Indeterminate Highway 66, along to where we’d received a distress call. The empty lights swooshing past as though we were in a trance, the ever-looming shape of the convenience store of the damned rearing its obnoxious bulk in the horizon. I had the files – there was no way they’d be able to get out of this one, especially since they’d ignored the cease and desist. We’d have them, for sure.

The five patrol cars and the dull brown saloon cruised down the highway, sirens blaring. They were on a mission, and nothing would stop them.

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

Meanwhile, (must… not… comment…) the convenience store of the damned maintained an unearthly silence. Surprisingly more than normal, being damned and all. But judging by the past events that had transpired here, who’s to comment?

The lights were starting to come on in the convenience store of the damned, dull sodium lights that seemed to outline the horrors of the dread place.

Sok Munkey: I… uh… I guess, as Acting Captain, I’d better say something…

He pauses, his mind a conflict of emotions. He fumbles with his words, with Hawthorne looking rather sullen and Thatchett looks into the middle distance, until he snaps out of the trance and his ears perk up, picking up the banshee wail of the sirens in the distance.

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

Detective: We had them. It all matched up. The Fireteams, the burritos, everything. Just a little further, and it was another pay check in the bag.

The cars sped on, their target in the distance.

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

Thatchett looked around, ominously. The sirens were getting close, and they had to move. They were in a compromising position as it was.

Thatchett: Ugh… c’mon! We’ve got to move!

SM: …

Hawthorne: …

Thatchett: If we don’t move, we’ll be with Bubba. And Bubba doesn’t have any breakfast burritos, either!

Something inside Acting Captain Sok Munkey’s head begins to tick. The proverbial lightbulb appears above him, although in terms of sheer ingenuity, it was only the power of a five watt bulb.

SM: As Acting Captain… I have a plan.

Thatchett sighs inwardly, while Hawthorne still looks rather sullen.

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

Five minutes later, and with the sirens looming, SM had rounded up Thatchett and Hawthorne by the fuel pumps. Using a marker he had found in the stationery section, he had marked out a complex plan on the price meter. Well, it was complex, well –thought and deep to him. To everyone else, it was a meaningless combination of squiggles and lines which looked like the work of Des Lynham in a particularly busy match.

SM: Right, gentlemen. As we’re several men down, this will be a difficult battle, and we may not all make it out alive. Now, teams A and B should head round and fortify the positions marked beta and gamma on the map. Teams C, D and E should continue to reinforce the barricades at A. Meanwhile…

SM was feeling proud of himself. What a true stroke of military genius! Impeccable work for this. He’d surely receive a promotion if… he corrected himself – when Sarn came back.

Thatchett was worried. Hawthorne was still spaced out and rather vacant, slowly mumbling to himself. He hadn’t seen him like this since that bottle of That Ol’ Janx Spirit that was “donated” by a rather kind bunch of moonshiners. And SM’s plan made no sense. They’d have to play it by ear.

Hawthorne was feeling a multitude of emotions. What went wrong? Surely the power of freedom would take on the authority of the Suit had with no trouble. Words and symbols meant nothing while he was in this trance state.

SM: … And should teams zeta, epsilon and delta fail in their ambush at point CX-2… THAT, gentlemen, is when we pull a strategic retreat. Got that? Good.

Thatchett: Um… strategic retreat?

SM: Yes, ensign. We shall retreat into the shuttle and leave post-haste should this plan fail for whatever reason.

Thatchett: WHAT shuttle?

SM: The shuttle we landed in of course, ensign? Don’t make me reprimand you for this insolence!

Thatchett gestures over to the spot where the Astro van once was.

SM: …

Hawthorne: …

Thatchett: …

SM: Crap.

And with that, the patrol cars and the brown saloon roared into the car park, surrounding our heroes.

What happened? What WAS SM’s plan? Will we ever find out? Just what HAPPENED to the Astro van? And who tipped off the Detective? Will SM’s power trip end? And Will Hawthorne find more burritos? Find out… NEXT WEEK! ON THE—Oh, wait. Read up for the astro van information. Everything else you’ll have to wait for. Well, that put a damper on this.

Bhac continues to stand unresponsive as the god of war, the Geb-figure, and the super web-editing kitty all attempt to get a response out of him.

Ares: Think he'll ever snap back?

Morris: I always knew the Hands of NeS weren't right in the head. This new guy only proves that two heads aren't better than one. Why the NeS two Hands were ever made I'll never understand.

Ares: One Hand seemed to work just fine in the old days.

(S.) Geb: Yeah, worked real well when the NeS needed to be protected from the EeP and all. Then again, five of you all didn't put up much of a fight either.

Ares: What did you just--

(S.) Geb: --but that's all in the past. In any case, we just need to "motivate" Bhac with something that he actually fears.

Ares: AM I NOT INTIMIDATING ENOUGH?!?!

(S.) Geb: About as intimidating as your puppy Sugar Dumpling. No, what we need is not a show of strength, but simply an edge...

(S.) Geb begins to brandish the NeSword. As he does so, however, Bhac immediately snaps into attention, as if waking from a daydream.

Bhac: I'm sorry, dear friends. I was... preoccupied with other matters. Being a Hand of NeS can be demanding at times, as the story often wants you everywhere at once. So... how can I help? Any plans for world-domination I could review, perhaps?

A moment of silence passes. (S.) Geb looks to Ares and Morris, who are now deep in thought.

Morris: ...I'm hungry.

Ares: You're always hungry.

Morris: Hey, do I yell at you every time you're all "waaaah waaah, I'm angry and want to punch something" or whatever it is you say?

Ares: Take that back!

Morris: Or else what? Lil' baby god or war gonna cry?

Bhac: Uh... excuse me. Are you telling me that you have nothing you wish to plot against the heroes of NeS?

Morris: Well...

Ares: Uh...

(S.) Geb: Actually, I could use your assistance.

Bhac: Oh thank God. Tell me!

(S.) Geb: Well, for starters, I'd like to do something about these two.

Ares: What's this nonsense? You're not a villian, Geb!

Morris: Yeah, he said he's only helping BAD GUYS, moron! Though now that I think about it, you've been acting pretty villianous... oh.

Ares: Oh what?

(S.) Geb: I had hoped to use these two somehow, but I see now that they're much too slow for me. Perhaps you could send them on a vacation somewhere?

Bhac: Mayaal did intend for them to be traveling on some trivial adventure...

Ares: Now wait just a minute here!--

Bhac: ...but let's make your vacation a little more exotic. Say, the jungles of Africa?

Morris: I hear the call of the wild, and it says lunch is free!

Ares: I'M NOT GOING ANYWHERE! I'M THE GOD OF WAR SO F--

Ares and Morris the Cat dissapear, as Bhac zaps them away, to the dark jungle heart of Africa.

Bhac: Well that was refreshing! What next?

(S.) Geb: Well, I'd really like to go back to the Russian base I had been before all this... craziness happened. If you could help me alter the story just enough to get us there, I'd very much appreciate it.

Bhac: Sure... I guess I could do that...

Abandoning the Astro-Van by the road, Bhac and (S.) Geb walk away with purpose from the vehicle. The camera pans around behind them, and the scenery seemlessly changes into the Siberian wilderness, with the Russian base entrance not too far away. (S.) Geb talks to Bhac without looking at him.

(S.) Geb: Thank you for your help. I think I can take it from here.

Bhac: I think I'll stay.

(S.) Geb turns to face Bhac.

(S.) Geb: Don't you have work to do?

Bhac: Do you think I've forgotten what the NeS once offered you, or what you still harbor within you? That thing within you... it is beyond mere evil.

(S.) Geb: True, but I can assure you that it's no threat. Hell, I think it's been taking a nap for the past page or so... besides, stretching yourself between places is never a good idea.

Bhac: I'm a Hand of NeS. I can do whatever the story requires of me.

(S.) Geb: Of course, but we both know that it's going to cause more problems than it'll fix. Besides, you help the villians, remember?

Bhac appears to struggle from his eye contact with (S.) Geb, but then settles down.

Bhac: Yes, you'll right. You can take it from here. I have other business to attend to. Besides, you're still cursed.

(S.) Geb: Huh?

Bhac: You know, when you left the convinience store of THE DAMNED. There's a reason they called it that, you know. You really should have been less villianous there. I'm sure you'll manage though. Ta-ta!

With that, Bhac melts away into a pool of blood. Grinding his teeth, (S.) Geb stares at the spot Bhac last was. Grumbling, he makes his way to the Russian bunker.

(NSP: More crazy postage to follow soon, dealing with folks in Africa, and then back to Evil Geb in the Russian compound!)

The Congo. Inside the convenient cave that has become their home, TLTE, CM and Mimiru begin to stir after a period of slumber. Sleep was difficult - the sounds of the jungle lend themselves to restless paranoia much more than, shall we say, the ambience of the 'burbs.

Mimiru: Will we ever get to rest in a warm bed again, Tsukasa?

CM: I don't know, dearest. Something tells me that an NeSHero must accept nomadic lodging as a part of their life.

Mimiru: Well, unless you want our wedding night to be somewhat...lacking...you'll acquire a bed by then!

CM: (Sheepishly) Yes, honey.

TLTE, meanwhile, has shambled over to Ante, who looks more scholarly than ever as he patiently leafs through Mayaal's NeS book by a small fire.

TLTE: Good reading, comrade?

Ante: I know some of this stuff, but a lot of the NeSlore Mayaal documents, if it is accurate, is completely new to me. I'll have to show it to Professor Thand when we see him next.

TLTE: You think any of it'll be new to him?

Ante: To be honest, I doubt it. But it's worth a try just to see if we can one-up him.

He smiles ruefully.

TLTE: Wait, don't you think this fire will attract attention?

Ante: Yes. That's the point.

CM: Crazy guy says what?

Ante: What?

CM: I rest my case. Aren't we here in the Congo...hiding?!

Ante: Yes. Well, yes, initially. But then...while you slept...this book appeared out of nowhere.

He holds up a thin book, akin to a novella. It is entitled Your New Instructions - A Work By Arkng Thand. Ante opens it and reads:

Ante: "Upon receiving this text you will have no doubt located and taken residence in a mysteriously convenient cave in the heart of the Congo. This cave was, as a matter of interest, created by Mustang, the 13th True Evil, and Erro Ohq in 1862, for the purpose of defeating a demon warlord named Vashuko that had been released into the world of the NeS." Fascinating! This cave is of immense cultural significance to the League of Heroes!

CM: The 13th True Evil? Your ancestor fought here in 1862?

TLTE: Apparently so, comrade.

CM: But aren't all you TLTEs clones of the original?

TLTE: As I was told, yes. But my research has shown that the first 14 TLTEs were, in fact, hereditary ancestors...the 15th was the man from which I am created.

Ante: Wait, there's more. "The League of Heroes' battle with Vashuko and his minions tore a scar of destruction across the African continent. After nearly a week of combat, Vashuko's entire army had been destroyed, but the League was scattered and in many cases, badly wounded. The three heroes mentioned above managed to rendezvous and, with the arch-fiend approaching, quickly etched this cave into being. The 13th Evil tunneled a hole in the back of the cave, so that the three could escape if the battle did not fare well. Mustang quickly covered the interior of the cave with protective magicks and charms that would strengthen them and trap Vashuko once he had entered the perimeter. Erro Ohq, leader of the League of Heroes, tended to his labouring comrades' wounds, strengthened his resolve and prepared to make his last stand."

CM: Wow, these guys make us seem useless!

TLTE: Oh, come on, we're not that bad...we fight evil...

CM: Yeah, very poorly! These guys had a plan...when was the last time we even-

TLTE: Shut up, you're making me feel bad.

Ante: "Thanks to the cunning and resolve of the heroes, they were able to both ensnare and defeat Vashuko, ending the conflict that had plagued the NeS. It is this same tactic that you are now to employ. Your enemies - the Potentials, and many more - will soon be converging on your location-"

TLTE: Wait, "many more?"

Ante: "-so I would advise TLTE to rig the cave with explosives, namely proximity mines. Ante should then split TLTE's weaponry load with him. CM should invoke what limited arcana he can muster. Mimiru is free to do whatever she wants."

Mimiru: Hey!

Ante: "By the time you must fight, evil will no longer control the NeS. Therefore, when your enemies enter the cave, Mustang's ancient magic will severely affect them. Use this opportunity to likewise affect them with firearms, magic and if necessary, heavy stones. If you must retreat, there is a concealed exit at the back of the cave, but it is most likely that this is your best - and only - opportunity to defeat the Potentials and whomever else wants you dead at the moment. -Yours, Arkng Thand." The rest of the pages are just diagrams of Mustang's magic, the League battling Vashuko, and layout drawings of the cave.

Mimiru: Are we sure we can trust this plan? I mean, it seems like we're trapping ourselves to me...

Ante: Well, we always have the exit at the back.

CM: And Arkng Thand hasn't led us astray before.

TLTE opens his coat, and tosses Ante a cartoonish amount of firearms. He tosses Mimiru an elegant, effeminate pistol.

TLTE: Alright then, comrades. Let's make our heroic ancestry proud.

Behind the fuel pumps, SM, Thatchett and Hawthorne lay in wait. The sirens grow louder as the squad cars fly down the road.

Hawthorne: Well, a fancy fix this is.

SM: Lest you forget, I fixed up the car that freak and the fat cat came in.

Thatchett: You mean the one leaking steering fluid everywhere?

SM: I can fix that.

Hawthorne: I'm not sure that we should...

SM: Sould what?

Hawthorne looks distrustfully at the car.

Hawthorne: Shouldn't we get a professional opinion or something?

SM: Does this really look like the time?

Suddenly the squad cars come screeching into the fill station parking lot. Slamming on their brakes, they create a veritable dust storm as they leap out of their squad cars and pour in and around the convienince store. In the storm of dust and the fading light, it seems the cops missed the three characters crouched behind the fuel pumps. A humphrey bogart looking character steps out of a car and moves for the door of the store.

Phil Redman: uhhh......

The sirens wake Phil up as he lays in the dust. In their rush, it seems the cops missed him too. He crawls from the corner of the lot, makes his way to the closest vehicle to him, the empty squad car 47 and crawls in the back.

Thatchett: Umm, guys, we could take our chances with that P.O.S. or --

Thatchett turns his nose to the squad cars.

Thatchett: We could take one of those.

SM: Not bad for a dog.

Hawthorn: Where's that Bhac character?

Bhac: Here.

Hawthorne jumps in surprise from the sudden voice behind him.

SM: Umm, how do you keep doing that?

Bhac: Does this look like story time? I'd do something if I were you.

SM: Right

Everyone moves for the nearest squad car, car 47. Opening the back door, Hawethorn freezes. He turns to SM standing by the driverside door next to him.

Hawthorn: There's a cop in there!

SM glances through the window at the sleeping wreck of a patrolman, then across the car at Bhac, who stands expressionless by the passenger door.

SM: We'll .......... leave him by the pumps.

Hawthorne: and let him warn the cops when he comes to?

SM: It's not like we're gonna get very far before the cops realize-- SM glances nervously at the door of the store. Just stick 'im in the trunk!

Moments later, everyone is in the car and peeling down the road.

Hawthorne: Does anyone else feel like this was a bad idea?

SM: don't worry about it. (starting to laugh) there was this one time we jacked a squad car, we--

Bhac: You lit it up and pushed it off a bridge.

SM: (Laughing) Yeah, it was so-- wait.

SM looks at Bhac nervously, suspiciously.

SM: How the hell do you know that?

Bhac: I know more than you think, John Von Xombie.

SM's hands lock on the steering wheel and his eyes turn cold.

SM(JVX): What did you...

Bhac: I know where you were born. I know about your life. I even know...

Bhac's focus turns slowly from the road to SM

Bhac: That your blood is tainted.

SM doesn't move or make a sound. He only glances at the shotgun on the rack next to him and the at Bhac.

Bhac: I know about the warehouse incident. I know where your scars are from. I know what happened to you. I know how dark you can be.

SM(JVX): (coldly, distantly) How?

Bhac looks back to the road.

Bhac: I know many things.

Hawthorne looks at the two.

Hawthorne: John Von Xombie, is that your real name?

JVX is silent for a long time.

JVX: Yes.

Hawthorne: (half to himself) Why does that name seem familiar?

Bhac: Do you read the papers?

Hawthorne: Yeah, but--

JVX: (turning to Bhac) That's enough from you. Another word and I'll pull this car over and so help me...

JVX glances at the shotgun again.

Bhac quiets down as he watches the road. he smiles, thinking to himself.

"I have you right where I want you"

The trunk begins thumping.

Hawthorne: hate to break this up you two, but what are we gonna do with the guy in the trunk? How are we gonna explain this if we are caught?

JVX: Caught? by who?

Hawthorne: Well, the cops behind us for one. Haven't you been paying attention?

JVX snaps to in surprise

What will happen to them? Will the cops catch them? What was Bhac talking about? What will happen to Phil Redman?

Sorry, this is all I could write and it was really rushed. I tried to keep things linear, but on the road of life there are many p(l)ot holes.

The Humphrey Bogart figure stands hunched of the smears of Sarn’s blood I the middle of the convenience store. The Three remaining officers stand behind him, the junior most stands with the hands over his mouth, his face pale as linen. The Detective lets the cigarette droop a bit lower as the memories flash over him yet again. The flickering and soft pinging of the florescent reached deep inside his head, rekindling the memory of the horrors, the fire fight… 17 officers dead, 6 wounded… and his partner… It was all happening again, and this time he would not make the same mistake. After purging the thoughts from his mind, and bearing once again his professional slate face, he turns to address the officers.

Detective: Officially this is still a kidnapping, but it looks like whatever was supposed to happen here went bad. My guess is the handoff got a bit thick, and someone lost this blood because of it. We need to move quickly, I want the lab boys out here ASAP, we need this blood analyzed. I need to know who was hurt, when, and how bad. I want all the tapes from the surveillance camera analyzed frame by frame. I need to know who exactly came in here, and what they did… I want DMV records for that car outside, and from any plates that can be pulled from the security recordings. Jenkins, you get on the horn and make that happen.

Jenkins: Yes sir.

Detective: Mickey, I need to know who own this god-forsaken dump. Find out and get them out here. I need to know who was on duty tonight. Also see if you can find out how much cash was taken, if any. Paul… *the detective turns to face the junior officer whose eyes are still fixated with terror* Come with me, we need to make sure nothing is overlooked.

Paul: Yes… Yess sir…. Um… Sir?

Detective: What is it?

Paul: Shouldn’t we be trying to chase after them… Or at least look for Officer Redman…

Detective: That is all we would be doing son, chasing after them. Listen kid, these people are professionals; we aren’t about to catch them with squad cars and foot rubber. The only way we will ever catch them is by figuring out where they are going before they get there. And as for Officer Redman… I’m afraid to say they’ve taken him. I don’t know if they plan on using him as another hostage, or if they just didn’t want him to spill the beans on what went down here tonight but one way or another, they’ve go him, and they will get us too if we aren’t careful.

Paul: Yesss sir… But… Sir? How do you know they have officer Redman.

Detective: Redman’s radio is sitting out there *The detective points out one of the windows in the direction of a small black speck in the middle of the parking lot* and there are drag marks in the direction of Car 47. They took him son, there is no question about it. Now stop with the chatter, we need to piece this puzzle together if we ever hope to see Phil again.

ooc.(Just a quick post while I was supposed to be doing lab work… Ill probably post more later.)

Not too far away, in another cave-like chamber, Gebohq stands besides the exotic coffin-thing he was previously lying in some page or so ago. Some of the villagers had gathered to offer a sacrifice to him, but could only stare in amazement as they watched Gebohq holding his head, perhaps with a headache. Gebohq had been, in fact, switching places with his rightful body for some time, and found it difficult to adjust to the switches. His condition recently stabalized, though, and Gebohq finishes adjusting himself to his new position.

Villager #1: Are you well now, Lord?

Geb: Will you stop calling me that? I don't know what's going on, but I'm certainly not your lord.

Villager #1: You are still recovering, oh High One. Please, remember your people.

Geb: You are not "my people" already--

Gebohq is interrupted as another villager runs in, a messanger of some sort.

Villager #2: Sir, we have spotted foreigners in our land. Troublemakers of old, they are.

Villager #1: Quick, everybody out! We must protect our Lord!

The villagers run out. Gebohq tries to follow when he is stopped.

Villager #3: You must stay here, your Greatness, where we can protect you.

Geb: But... nevermind.

Gebohq sighs, and sits back where he was standing before.

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

Ares and Morris the cat stand in the center of the village, having recently been trasported there by Bhac. The village itself appears empty for the moment.

Ares: I should fly back right now and show that Bhac who's boss around here!

Morris: You know, maybe you should just let things slide every once in a while.

Ares is about to retort when a throng of villagers begin to approach them, armed for a fight.

Ares: Then again, maybe I'll stick around for a bit.

Standing tall, Ares poses for battle. He watches as the group of villagers pass him. He grabs one of the villagers as they are passing.

Ares: Mortal! Why are your armed forces passing me?

The villager looks at Ares not frightened, but puzzled.

Villager #15: There are some foreingers who threaten our god, Lord Geb.

Ares: Geb, you say? What's he doing here?

Villager #15: He's our god?

Ares: Fool! He's not a god! He's not even a very strong human. I'M a god! Ares, the god of war!

Villager #15: Uh... ok. Can you let me go now? I'm to group with the others by the entrance of the cave the foreigners were last spotted.

Ares sighs, and drops the villager, who scampers off where the rest of the villagers were heading.

Morris: So... what now?

Ares: Let's go... that way.

Ares and Morris the cat head off, BUT WHERE? Have the villagers found The Last True Evil, Antestarr, CoolMatty and Mimiru? ...Probably. Will Gebohq ever get out of the cave he's in? ...Probably. Will the characters in Africa run into Qwerty's robots tweaked by Bhac? ...Probably. Will the Potentials pay a visit to Gebohq and everyone in the dark jungle heart of Africa? ...You know what? I think I'll just let you all ponder on that one, or find out in the next post of The Never-ending Story Thread Squared!

Back at the Siberian bunker, Shattered Geb finds himself stupified. Before him, he sees what appeared to have been a finished tea party. Nearby, Young, Romanov, and several of the Russian guards dance in a post-modern quasi-ballet fashion.

S. Geb: What's going on here? Why is Young romping free around the place?

Romanov and the other guards stand dumbfounded.

Young: Well, these men wanted to talk to me, so I though some tea would be nice while we chatted. Then they yelled at me, and wanted to lock me up and do mean things to me. I suggested that, instead of violence, we resolve our differences through interpretive dance. Now if you don't mind, we're still in the middle of a very delicate issue here, of which I may add I'm having difficulty defending my position.

S. Geb: Oh, ok, well as long as it's being dealt with-- HEY!

Young: Yes?

S. Geb: We'll have none of the NeS ruining things here. *aside* This shouldn't be happening. The bad guys are supposed to be winning, and they are, but they aren't somehow...

Young: Why do you speak so poorly about my mother?

S. Geb: Lt. Col. Romanov! Have your men prepare for the DNA extraction! I need some time with this troublesome girl, alone.

Still in a state of confusion, Romanov none the less orders his men to do so. He and the guards exit, leaving the Shattered Geb and Young to themselves. S. Geb approaches Young, and grabs her by the Female Grab area (her upper arm).

S. Geb: I'll learn your secrets yet, girl. Before I let the wonders of Russian science examine you, though, I think I'll soften you up a bit.

The Shattered Geb punches Young in the face, and she reflexively closes her eyes and tries to soften the blow. She is surprised, though, as she feels nothing. Was the NeS, her "mother," protecting her? She opens her eyes. She gazes in horror as a broken mirror image of her stands before her, where (S.) Geb had been, still grabbing her by the arm. The broken mirror image of her looks equally as surprised, examining the hand that had punched Young, then turning to look at a convinient reflective surface. A smirk cracked on the broken mirror images' face, as it dissolved back into the image of (S.) Geb.

S. Geb: Well, isn't this a pleasant surprise. I'll have to look into this further. You, my dear Young, will just have to wait in a cell instead.

The Shattered Geb drags Young away, deeper into the Siberian bunker.

(NSP: I'll clue you writers in on what this is all about in the workshop thread at some point.)

Gebohq: So... does this place have a bathroom?

The two villager-guards give Gebohq puzzled looks.

Gebohq: Right. Could you at least give me some privacy then? Like, stand guard at the OTHER end of the entrance to this place, maybe?

The two villager-guards bow, and exit to guard the other side of the entrance. Gebohq takes the opportunity to look for something in the cave-chamber that could be improvised as a toilet.

Gebohq: Do these pants even have a zipper?..

Voice: Gebiyl, I have found you at last!

Gebohq spins around to see a towering figure garbed in a dark blue-black robe, the hood covering the head in a darkness blacker than black -- the Sepulchral Phantom, also known as Morthrandur.

Gebohq: Hi again? By the way, I'm not Gebiyl.

Morthrandur cocks his head to the side.

Morthrandur: Ah, very good. You're making me doubt, Shattered One. I had not expected as much from you.

Gebohq: No, really, I'm not that guy. I'm just in his body. There's a rather confusing story behind it.

Morthrandur strides over to Gebohq, cupping his long, pale hands over Gebohq's temples. Gebohq tries to look into the darkness where Morthrandur's head should be, under the hood, but could see nothing else, despite feeling Morthrandur's gaze upon him. After a few moments, Morthrandur steps back, releasing his hold on Gebohq's head.

Morthrandur: I see, you are the true Ohq. The events leading up to your current situation are strange indeed. It explains much of my difficulty in finding you.

Gebohq: So do you think you could help me out? You were looking for evil me, right? Maybe you can set this whole body-swap ordeal straight?

Morthrandur: I am indeed looking for the "evil you," as you put it. I can not do anything for you now though. Perhaps I will return later, but for now, I wish to see the Shattered One. He has somehow escaped from the unconscious NeS, and carries with him now a great force that seems to trouble the NeS itself a great deal.

Gebohq: The EeP?

Gebohq begins to sink in posture, his head fallen. Morthrandur places a pale hand on Gebohq's shoulder.

Morthrandur: Do not despair, Gebohq. The end of the Never-ending Story remains an uncertainty, as it has been. If it gives you any comfort, I once stood in this very place over a century ago, concerned with the safety of my friends, just as you are. Ah, the memories...

Gebohq: You were here before?

Morthrandur: I may yet reveal to you the darkness which shrouds me, Gebohq, but not now. Now, I must take my leave. If I am not mistaken, some of your friends are not far away now... stay true, Gebohq. Hold, and the story may not unravel for the worse yet.

Morthrandur dissapates into nothingness, leaving Gebohq alone. After a few moments, however, he returns.

Gebohq: That was quick.

Morthrandur: Yeah... uh.... you wouldn't happen to have an idea where your counterpart is, would you?

Gebohq: How the hell would I know? ...oh, right. Uh... no, not really. Sorry, it's all still disorienting to me.

Morthrandur: And to think, he holds the NeSword... you dissapoint me, Gebohq. You shame our family.

Gebohq: Oh come on, cut me some slack!

But Gebohq is left unanswered, as Morthrandur dissapears again.

Gebohq: Freakin' hell. Wait... family?

Mayaal But in either case, it's time I give you your punishment, my dear Sarn. I think it'll be quite effective indeed.

Mayaal throws his right hand into the air. Clouds suddenly appear in the nothingness of 1337, spinning and pulsating back and forth. Lightning strikes the deck of the yacht. Mayaal screams out as a gigantic beam of light slams down from the skies. It comes down and explodes into Mayaal's outstretched hand. Suddenly, as fast as it came, 1337 was silent again. Mayaal lay on the deck, the wood splintered and burnt all around him. Sarn looked down at the fallen Hand of NeS. Suddenly, Mayaal stands and presents his white-knuckle hands gripping...

Sarn A sharpie?

Mayaal*confused* What do you mean, 'a sharpie?' This is THE sharpie. The BEST sharpie EVER. It's so cool and sharp...y.

Sarn*sarcastically* Real cool. What are you going to do with it?

Mayaal stares contently at the seemingly simple sharpie in his hand with wonder. Reading it's power, the sharpie’s description rolls around in his head repeatedly. Sarn coughs, and Mayaal finally snaps back

Mayaal Wha?

Sarn What are you doing with it?

Mayaal I'm going to punish you for your lack of Spelunking!

Sarn Hey! I didn't mean to not Spelunk... I just...

Mayaal suddenly stands a foot taller behind Sarn. Sarn looks up in time for Mayaal to grasp Sarn's neck and hold his chin steady. With his other hand, Mayaal places the tip of the sharpie on Sarn's forehead with a dramatic look on his face. Finishing his sharpie tattoo, Mayaal underlines and stars his creation, then drops Sarn to the ground.

Mayaal It is done. You have been branded my hound. You will act as I want you, not because I command, but because your SOUL demands it. You will want what I want more than you've ever wanted anything before. Furthermore, you are damned with that tattoo on your forehead. If anyone speaks the word, you will violently sneeze. This is your burden.

Mayaal looks proud of his sharpie-magic as a hole on the deck of the yacht takes the screaming Sarn from the boundaries of 1337. As if falling forever, Sarn begins to wonder if he'll ever land on solid ground. Suddenly, his wishes are met as his back meets the hood of a car. The car swerves and it's occupants get out.

Hawthorne What in the bloody hell... Sarn?

Sarn OW!

Sok Munkey What's that on your forehead?

Sarn No!

Hawthorne *SPELUNK*?

Sarn ACHOO

Sarn sneezes, his body burrowing into the hood of the car, popping the tires as a stream of smoke comes from under the hood. His sneeze literally smashing the front of the vehicle, more than his fall had.

Sarn Oh god, don't say that!

Sok Munkey What, spelunk?

Sarn ACHOO

The car compresses to a pancake under the power of Sarn's sneeze. The pavement of the street breaks and fractures as well.

Sarn DAMN YOU MAYAAL!

[NSP: Consider Sarn being a 'hound' as in Padin Fain in the wheel of time series. If Mayaal needs him to do something, he goes into a spiteful state of requirement. He NEEDS whatever it is Mayaal needs. He'll get it at all costs with almost limitless energy. This is yet another aspect to his multiple personalities, and will make him even MORE screwed up!]

[oh yeah, thanks Kirbs... :p quick question, did Maayal leave the dagger in Sarn's posession, Padan Fain style?]

Deep in the realm of 1337, Maayal chuckles to himself as he watches Sarn's plight.

Maayal: Wow, those sneezes are powerful. Sometimes I amaze even myself.

Meanwhile, Hawthorne, Sok Munkey and Sarn are in a tight spot back at the now wrecked patrol car. Three police cruisers are bearing down on them, and the stolen police vehicle will not start.

Sarn: Damn! We're in a tight spot.

Sok Munkey: What are we going to do?

Suddenly, Bhac climbs from the car. A scar runs across his face from where Sarn (Kern) had slashed him previously. He looks at our three heroes with disdain, and his gaze settles on Sarn.

Bhac: You. You're back.

Sarn: Have we met?

Bhac: Do you remember nothing of our previous encounter?

Sarn: I'm quite sure I've never seen you in my life... How'd you get that wicked scar though? Cool.

Hawthorne: Must I remind you of the three police cruisers closing in on our position?

Sarn looks up at the police cruisers.

Sarn: Damn. We're in a tight spot.

Sok Munkey: How the hell have they not reached us yet? They must be going over a hundred mph...

Sarn The Writer: Well I have to get this dialogue in somehow don't I?

Sarn: Damn. We're in a tight spot.

Bhac: *sigh* This is really nothing.

Bhac raises his hands towards the approaching vehicles. Blood drips from his fingertips as the earth begins to rumble. The road begins to crack about midway between our heroes and the fast-approaching (but never-nearing) police cruisers. Slowly, a volcano rises out of the road, brushing aside slabs of concrete and spewing dark, thick red blood. The lead cruiser swerves to avoid the volcano, and his vehicle is thrown from the road, rolling several times before coming to rest in the desert. The two other vehicles manage to come to a stop on the road, tires screeching.

Hawthorne: Impressive.

Four police officers climb from the two non-wrecked cruisers. One of the officers runs off towards the wrecked cruiser in the desert. The other three take up positions around the volcano. One of the officers produces a bullhorn from some unknown pocket or utility belt.

Officer #1: We've got you. Give up now and we may consider leniency at your trial. You've got no where else to go!

Bhac chuckles and snaps his fingers to a sprinkling of blood. As he does, red mist rises from the volcano. There is a loud rumble and blood shoots out of the volcano, blanketing the area. A few drops land near our heroes and the pavement smokes where they fall. When the mist clears, the three officers are gone.

The three humanoids, and one canine stand in silence, as Bhac turns back towards them.

Bhac: Yes?

Hawthorne: Ummm…good job there…

Sarn: Yes…. Very good job.

Sok Munkey: Quite… so… ummm…anyway, what’s the big deal about Spelunk?

Sarn: ACHOO

Sok: (chuckles), This is rather fun… spelunk

Sarn: ACHOO

Hawthorne: Spelunk.

Sarn: ACHOO

Sarn, who’s last three sneezes have dug a moderatly sized furrow in the side of the road, suddenly leaps up and grab’s Hawthorne by the collar.

Sarn: If you say that word one more time… I am going to Sneaze right on you…

Sok: Spel*THWACK*

Sok munkey’s statement is quite abruptly cut short as Hawthorne catches him with a wide swing to the face.

Hawthorne: You know… I think Sarn’s right, it’s never good to take advantage of someone else’s misfortune… No matter how humorous it might be.

Slowly Sarn releases his death grip on Hawthorne’s clothing.

Hawthorne: But seriously, what’s the big deal about…um… that word?

Thatchett: I hate to break it up boys. But it won’t take them too long to get around THAT.

Bhac: SARN!

Sarn turns suddenly to face Bhac.

Bhac: SPLELUNK!

No sooner than finish saying this, Bhac suddenly drops to his knees and takes cover.

Sarn: ACHOO

The force of Sarn’s sneeze hits the front of the wrecked squad car full force, and sends is spinning out into the road in a shower of sparks and metal fragments. Slowly sliding to a rest in the middle of the highway with a true nails-on-chalkboard sound, and finally coming to a rest with a satisfying creak, after which the trunk pops open as if triggered by some electronic remote trunk popping system, or something. The sounds of metal on asphalt from just seconds ago are suddenly replaced by those of middle-aged-misery as Officer Redman crawls out of the trunk of what remains of the squad car, and collapses into the ditch on the side of the roadway. With a satisfied look on his face, Bach slowly rises to his feet, and walks over to Sarn to pat him on the shoulder.

Bhac: The little dog is right, we better get moving.

Hawthorne turns around, and suddenly points at something several hundred feet down the road.

Sok: Hey, isn’t that…

Hawthorne: THE ASTO-VAN!

Sarn: Really? How convenient? Why would Geb just leave the asto-van on the side of the road like that?

Hawthorne: The police are after us, we are stranded in the middle of nowhere with no primary method of transportation. And suddenly MY two and a half metric tons of highly modified locomotion suddenly appears just ahead of us and you want to ask WHY?

Sarn: Good point that. I guess we should head that way then…


[ooc] Yeah, I started writing before Sarn’s post (again), and had to butcher my original post. Hopefully this is still readable and coherent, otherwise I will come back and edit it when I have a bit more time.

[EDIT] Bloodyspelunkinghell! Westwind beat me to it. I guess I'll just delete my post and write again >:P[/EDIT]

Everyone moves for the van. Eyeing Bhac distrusfully, SokMunkey reaches into the smashed window of squad car 47, pulls the shotgun out, and slides it over his shoulder. Hawthorne reaches the car first, jumping into the driver seat and running his hands over the dashboard.

Hawthorne: I never thought I'd see it again. Alright, everybody in!

Sarn: I think I should reiterate my previous point that it's kinda, idunno, WEIRD that the people that stole this car would just abandon it in the middle of nowhere and dissapear.

Hawthorne: Just get in the car.

Everyone climbs in and Hawthorne turns the key. The engine jumps to life immediately and purrs happily. Thank God for Pennsoil Supreme Motor Oil. The van shifts into gear and tears onto the road, kicking up dirt in the face of Patrolman Phil as he lays in the ditch. After burning out momentarily, the van grips asphalt and jerks into forward momentum.

Several hours down the road, Hawthorne glances at the gas gauge.

Hawthorne: Umm, guys, we're almost out of gas.

Everyone wakes up, looking out the windows. It's early morning and the climate has changed drastically. An eery, thick, crawling fog has rolled in. The air is damp and cold.

Sarn: Where are we?

Theatrically on cue, the way everything is in movies, books and cereal commercials, a destination sign emerges from the fog bank ahead. It reads: Welcome to Damnation
Population: ---

Over the population count someone has spraypainted "Stay the bloody hell out"

Sarn: Damnation? We are going to a town called Damnation?

Hawthorne: Whadda they mean, stay the hell out?

Thatchett: (beginning to whine) I'd rather take their word for it and not find out.

Hawthorne: We don't have much choice. we need gas, and there hasn't been a fill station between here and the Convinience Store of the Damned.

Thatchett whimpers and crawls under the seat. As the Astro van rolls into the city, nothing living is in sight. The town seems abandoned, Its tall skyscrapers standing tall and forlorn. It looks much like Silent Hill, with the trash blowing down the empty streets and not a sound to be heard. Hawthorne drives slowly down the street, searching in vain to catch site of a living person.

Thatchett: Guys, this was your stupidest idea yet.

Everyone ignores Thatchett.

Hawthorne: Where is everybody?

Sarn: Does this remind anyone else of something? like Dawn of the Dead, or any of the other countless zombie movies ever made?

Bhac: You mean to say we've rolled into a zombie town?

Sarn: well no, I just meant that--

The car stops suddenly.

Hawthorne: Umm, guys, we're out of gas.

Sarn: This happens to you a lot, doesn't it?

Hawthorne: just get out and help me look for a fill station. there has to be one somewhere nearby.

Everyone steps out and looks around. No one seems willing to leave the van to search for gas. They all stand around looking at their surroundings and at each other. No one wants to admit to it, so no one says anything. Except Thatchett.

Thatchett: There's no chance you're getting me outta this van.

Hawthorne: Look, right over there. There's a fill station. Help me push the car. We'll pump this thing up and leave.

Everyone gets behind the car and start pushing. Having only moved down the street into the middle of the next intersection, Sarn stops pushing. He straightens up and looks down the road they are crossing.

Everyone: Keep pushing, you duff!

Sarn: Guys, take a look at this.

Everyone stands up and stares down the road. the sound of feet can be heard carrying down the street, echoing off the hollow buildings that line the avenue like spiring prison walls in the fog fleeting shadows can be made out here and there.

Everyone freezes. Thatchett begins yammering. Bhac watches with a cool, almost indifferent gaze. Sarn focuses intently, as if hoping to pierce the fog bank and look beyond it. SokMunkey seems to bristle the moment he sees the shadows, recognition turning his eyes to ice. Hawthorne continues to glance from the street to the fill station to the street again. Everyone remains frozen with inaction.

Sarn: So, now what?