Granny Cal is sitting at the kitchen table, having a nice cup of tea and a ham sandwich. Enter the bloody skeleton. He has been running after Michael for hours, days even, and would be puffed out if he had lungs. Despite Michael's promising to work for a bit with our bony friend, he has managed to shake him off.

Granny Cal: Hello, dear.

Skeleton: *a bit down* Hello.

Granny Cal: Oh dear, that's not a happy face, is it?

Skeleton: What'd'yer mean? Skeletons are noted for their wacky grins.

Granny Cal: Yes dear, you're grinning but you're not happy.

Skeleton: Oh.

Granny Cal: So how are you finding it here in the NeS?

Skeleton: Not too good. First Geb finds me then leaves me, then he finds me again and brings me back into the story but leaves me, then I have a nice conversation with Michael and I feel like I've found a friend, but now he's disappeared. I just don't feel my character is getting a chance to be fleshed out, no pun intended.

Granny Cal: No pun noted. *long uncomfortable pause* Geb, Geb? Is that doughnut boy? Our Campbellian Hero With a Thousand Faces?

Skeleton: That's him. Only in his case it's Hero of Smiley Faces. He, he he, he he he, HAH HAH ...

In case you haven't guessed, the latter assemblage of he's and hah's is laughter.

Granny Cal: *sternly* It wasn't that funny dear. And who is Michael?

Skeleton: He's another hero and a cereal spiller. Geddit? Serial killer, cereal spiller? He, he he, he he he, HAH HAH ...

Granny Cal: You're not winning any friends, dear.

HUGE PAUSE

Skeleton: So where is this all going?

Granny Cal: Absolutely nowhere, dear. Absolutely nowhere.

Meanwhile, outside the kitchen door, a dark figure lurks.

Dark figure: Damn, I'd kill for a ham sandwich.

Meanwhile, back at the Haunted House of Heroes, Sarn and Voodoo are resting on the couch in the sitting room outside of the kitchen. Suddenly, Voodoo is wretched away from Sarn by an unknown force and pinned to a wall on the other side of the room. She screams.

From the kitchen, Granny Cal and the Skeleton look up in shock as they hear the scream.

Granny Cal: Good Heavens, what was that?

Skeleton: *shrug*

What does it look like for a skeleton to shrug I wonder? Ahem. Anyway, Granny Cal and the Skeleton stand up from the table and head towards the sitting room to investigate. Before they are able to leave the kitchen, the aforementioned "dark figure" steps into the entryway.

Dark Figure: This does not concern you, Cali. Please return to your seat. Order will be restored momentarily and then you can proceed with your daily routine.

Granny Cal: Who are you? And what's going on? I heard a scream.

Dark Figure: You are not a part of this. I do not wish to cause any unnecessary disruption. Please return to your seat.

Granny Cal takes a step towards the dark figure.

Granny Cal: Now wait just a minu-

Suddenly, Granny Cal is thrust backward into her chair. She struggles to stand, but something unseen presses her to the seat.

Granny Cal: Wha? Let you up you bad mannered child!

Dark Figure: Please remain in your seat.

Elsewhere, similar dark figures have revealed themselves to other occupants of the HHH, the scenes playing out in similar fashion. None of our heroes seem to have any power against the figures. Amal lies pinned to his bed, silent, but with tears flowing from his eyes. A dark figure looks on solemnly. TLTE, The Patriot, and Losien are pressed up against the bars of a cell in the basement, a dark figure standing in the hallway. The Otter's interregation with ThrawnBot has been inturrupted and The Otter lies pinned to a table, while TrawnBot is immobilized in a corner. Antestarr is nearby, straining unsuccessfully to move towards the dark figure in the doorway in order to attack. All of the heroes in the HHH are completely immobilized... save one.

Sarn Cadrill stands in the sitting room in full control of his motor functions. To any observer he is talking, quite heatedly to himself, but Sarn himself is confronting the man he'd seen earlier.

Sarn: Tsolo! What have you done! Release Voodoo immediately!

Tsolo. Do not worry, Kern. She will not be harmed. I have come for you.

Tsolo points a finger menacingly at Sarn. He stands a good head and a half taller than Sarn, and strikes a very imposing figure with his lanky frame and long wings draped around his shoulders.

Sarn: Kern? You've got the wrong guy, pal. I don't know what you're talking about.

Tsolo: You can try to hide all you want, Kern. But the NeS has forgotten you. You belong to me. Please, do not resist. Come along with me.

At this time, CoolMatty, Mirimu, and Subaru are approaching the HHH in their jet. Suddenly alarms sound and the jet lurches. The three heroes are thrown forward as the jet loses speed rapidly.

CM: What the HELL!?!

Mirimu: I... We're.. stopping.

CM: Parachutes! We're going to crash!

Mirimu: No... We're not.. losing altitude. We're just... stopping.

Subaru: How is that possible.

Mirimu. It's not.

Voice: Perhaps I can explain.

The three are startled to hear a fourth voice in the cabin. They turn as one. A dark figure, identical to the figures occupying the HHH stands near the back of the cabin.

CoolMatty: Who the hell are you?

Dark Figure: That is of no consequence. An event is taking place at the location you refer to as the Haunted House of Heroes that does not require your presence. You are, therefore, being held here momentarily. Do not fear, none of you are in any danger.

CoolMatty: Like hell.

CoolMatty begins to prepare a particularily nasty bit of magic. Suddenly, he freezes.

Dark Figure: This is not your concern, Cool Matty. Please stand by momentarily.

Mirimu: What the hell, CM! Kick his ***!

CoolMatty: I... can't.

Mirimu: What?

CoolMatty: It's.. gone. I can't feel it. Why can't I feel it?

Dark Figure: Your formidable capabilities in magic have been temporarily suspended for your protection. Please, sit down and relax. This will be only a minor inconvienence.

Back in the sitting room:

Sarn: I told you, I don't know what you're talking about? I'm not Kern and I don't even know who he is!

Tsolo: Kern, please. There is no need to make this any more difficult than it already is. I have a place for you, where you will be much more comfortable.

Sarn: I'm perfectly comfortable where I am. I have friends who care about me. I have a warm bed to sleep in. I have a purpose.

Tsolo: No, Kern. You do not. You are forgotten. But forgotten characters have a place. With us.

Sarn: I already have a pl-

Tsolo moves with lightning speed. He takes a step towards Sarn and spreads his wings wide. A gust of wind knocks Sarn back onto the couch. Tsolo reaches for Sarn, but Sarn is suddenly not there. He's on his feet to the side. Steel flashes and a blade slices through the air as Tsolo jerks his left wing away. He rolls to one side gracefully and regains his feet.

Tsolo: Kern, please. Do not resist.

Tsolo and Sarn face off, poised for battle. Sarn's whole demeanor has changed. He seems... darker, and far more deadly. The usual glint of humor in his eye is replaced by a cold resolve, and an ornate dagger is clutched in his right fist.

Kern: Why did you come for me, Tsolo. I was happy here.

Tsolo: This is not your place, Kern.

Kern: Why can't it be my place? I'm not hurting anyone.

Tsolo: You know as well as I the power of that blade. You know the damage it could do to the NeS. I cannot allow you to lurk in the shadows.

Kern: You'll have to allow it. You can't stop me. You're no match for me, and because of my protection, you can't touch Sarn.

Tsolo: I CAN TOUCH ANYONE IN NES! Why would you think yourself or Sarn any different!?

Kern waves his left arm slowly.

Kern: Odd, how I can still move then. Isn't it.

Kern lunges for Tsolo, dagger extended. Tsolo rolls gracefully away from the blade, and brings his fist around to knock the blade from Kern's fist, simultaneously wrapping his wing behind Kern to ensnare him. Kern has already stepped aside, his blade seeking Tsolo's thigh. The two dance around each other, graceful as panthers, neither landing a blow, until, suddenly, Tsolo cries out and jumps back. Kern stands at the ready, blade held low in front of him, showing no signs of exertion. Tsolo is breathing heavily. From the canvas of his right wing, a small tear can be seen, silver blood trickling from it.

Kern: You're way too slow. Perhaps you should consider retiring.

Tsolo: You fool! Do you seek my death? Do you know what that would mean for the NeS?

Kern: I seek only to be left alone.

Tsolo: You know that is not possible.

Kern: Which would be worse for the NeS? For me to live here in peace? Or for you to die?

Tsolo: You overestimate your abilities.

Kern: Is that so? Or do you underestimate them? Did you mean for me to wound you just now? Is that part of your great plan?

Tsolo: I will not be taunted. In spite of what you desire, you must be removed.

Kern: Why? I havn't caused any harm except when you've tried to draw me out. I saw your hand in that business with Bhac, and you're openly showing your cards now. But I'm content to wait here in the shadows if you'll just leave me alone.

Tsolo: Wait in the shadows? For how long? Only until it suits you to emerge, and then what? No. This is unacceptable.

Kern: Guess you're going to have to learn to live with it. Unless you want to end it now.

Tsolo: No. Perhaps I have made a mistake in coming here. But do not grow content in yourself. It is not over. You will be taken.

Tsolo covers himself in his wings and seems to disappear. Kern stands a moment longer, then the tension leaves his body, and he collapses. The dagger falls to the ground beside him. Throughout the Haunted House of Heroes, our heroes are released from the bonds holding them as the dark figures disappear in whisps of smoke.

As Voodoo is release, she falls to the ground. She looks up and sees Sarn's figure lying prone on the floor. From the corner of her eye she sees movement. When she turns to look though, she sees nothing more than a glint in the air, like a dust mote catching the sun. She loses focus on it and turns back to Sarn.

Voodoo: Sarn! Are you ok?

Sarn does not respond.

Voodoo: Sarn! Help! Someone! Get in here!

Meanwhile, alarms sound on the jet once more and the nose tilts towards the ground. CoolMatty, Mirimu, and Subaru stumble to the deck of the plane.

CoolMatty: Oh sh**! We're going down.

Subaru darts for the captain's chair and begins to wrestle with the controls.

Subaru: All systems are functional, but we're losing altitude! We're not moving fast enough. We're going to crash.

While Geb the writer is off arguing with.... well I'm not really sure who he's arguing with... just that someone really really has it in for him... anyway, while that all is happening, Gebohq, the character is in dire straights. Having not taken the donunts from the police car he has no food, and he is out in the middle of no where lost what will he do?!

Geb: Well I'm lost in the middle of no where with no food, what to do what to do

Hey I already said that get a move on!

Geb: Right! Time to clear my name, while running from the law endlessly, having a camera follow all of my stunning moves as I cleverly escape the police, and hurt no one in my quest to become a upstanding citizen again. Hey that sounds like a great idea for a movie.

Geb ponders the idea to get movie rights for his idea, as he walks off into the forest. A little while later, the sun starts to set, as Geb walks through the partially forested area in whatever direction he randomly started running in after escaping the car.

Geb: Well I guess I should set up camp, and wait for some writer to get back to actually writing again and move the story along. Oh well, time to sleep.

And sleep he does, settled underneath a pine tree and a rather uncomfortable postion. Whatever will happen to poor Geb? Will he be left to stagnate under a pine tree for awhile? Well whatever, here's some dancing chickens.

Back in the 8th Dimension, the plane that CoolMatty, Mimiru and Subaru are inside of is diving dangerously towards the Haunted House of Heroes!

Subaru: Can't...pull...up....

*CRUNCH!*

The plane hits the ground and bounces OVER the Haunted House of Heroes, spinning wildly in the process!

CM, Mimiru and Subaru: @_@

It then crashes again on the other side of the Haunted House of Heroes, its wing stuck in the ground. It leans towards the HHH...

CM, Mimiru, Subaru: *gasp*!

...then away from the HHH...

CM, Mimiru, Subaru: *GASP*!

...then back TOWARDS the HHH--

CoolMatty: OH COME ON! Quit it with the suspense already!

Fiiiiine, fiiiine. The jet then falls away from the Haunted House of Heroes. Unfortunately, it totally ruins The Last True Evil's not-so-prize-winning garden. The Last True Evil (followed by The Patriot and Losien), immediately run outside to the site of the crash.

TLTE: NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!! My garden!!!

CoolMatty, Mimiru, and Subaru crawl out of the wreckage with superficial wounds. The Last True Evil grabs CoolMatty by the collar and shakes him.

TLTE: HOW COULD YOU?!?!

CM: *cough* Thanks for worrying about us...

TLTE: My beautiful garden!

CM: Oh please! It wasn't that great.

TLTE: What. Did. You. Say?

CM: Uh--er--it's her fault! *points to Subaru* She was the one piloting!

Subaru: HEY! It was that freaky dark figure that screwed everything up by freezing us in place!

The Last True Evil regains his focus, and puts CoolMatty back down.

TLTE: So they came upon you as well? Hmm... Come inside. We have a lot of issues to discuss...

The Patriot: You and your talk! Nobody wants to listen to your communist trash. Less talk, more acting!

The Last True Evil grumbles as he walks back inside the Haunted House of Heroes, followed by The Patriot, CoolMatty, Mimiru, and Subaru. Losien stays where she is, staring vacantly past the fire of the jet wreckage...

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

Meanwhile, nearly everyone scrambles to Voodoo and Sarn's position when Voodoo cried for help. Everyone, that is, except for Maybechild and Ford. Nodding to each other, Maybechild runs off elsewhere, and Ford sureptitously picks up the knife held by Sarn moments before...

Voodoo: Sarn! Sarn! Someone help him!

Just then, The Last True Evil and the others enter the scene. Subaru walks up to check on Sarn.

Subaru: He should be fine. What happened?

Voodoo: Well--

Maybe: Sorry to interrupt, but we all just wanted to say goodbye before heading off to join the Forgotten characters. Ciao!

Maybechild (holding the urn of Dust), Dr. Dormouse, Mustang, Ahnuld, and Ford are all grouped together, waving good-bye.

everyone else: Yeah yeah, goodbye...

The group leaves. The sounds of a car starting up and leaving are heard. Realization hits The Last True Evil.

TLTE: ...borsct! We need to follow them!

Mimiru: With what? I'm pretty sure that was our only car, and the jet's out of commision.

Semievil: The Thingy^2! And we can check the update screen to find out where they went!

<<I'm sorry, but I can not allow you all to do that. I'm to keep you all here until I can be transferred to the Forgotten's HQ.>>

Semievil: Well fuq. No exciting chase scene, no painful-yet-convinient tracking-and-teleporting... how do we fix this problem?

Sugarless: Go back and sit around in the kitchen eating, like we were before?

Semievil: ...I like this girl's thinking.

Will any of the protagonists make an attempt to track and chase down the rogue heroes? Or will they sit around and continue doing little-to-nothing? Find out--

Michael: HOLY CRAP, THE HOUSE IS ON FIRE NOW!

...Uh...will our heroes be trapped in their own Haunted House of Heroes and die from the fire?

...Well, probably not. If anything, they're more likely to die from the smoke than any actual fire...erm, I mean, FIND OUT NEXT TIME, HERE ON THE NEVER-ENDING STORY THREAD SQUARED!

(NSP: For ease of reference, if anyone is interested, here's a little explination on the origins of the Dust and on why Maybe and the others are acting strangely. It should be noted that they're not really evil, but they might certainly do questionable things...)

Gebohq stretches in front of the tree, gets up and wonders through the woods lost, trying to figure out what to do. Suddenly he sees fireworks up ahead and starts sprinting towards them, seeing the end of the woods up ahead. He reaches the end and finds himself in front of the police station...

Gebohq: Crap not where I want to be.

A police officer towards him and yells...

Officer: Hey! aren't you that convict that loves donuts?

Gebohq runs away from the officer yelling for him to stop, back into the woods and continues to wonder. He finds himself suddenly outside the woods at the North Pole staring at a very angry polar bear.

Hey there's Santa! Let's go visit.

Geb: How bout we go back into the woods, I don't think the polar bear is very friendly.

Are you sure? Santa might be upset with you, and call you naughty

Geb: Well if I don't get this tax thing figured out I might be called naughty anyway.

Only two things in life are true, death and taxes. Well I guess you should avoid the first right now shouldn't you?

Geb: Yeah Polar Bears aren't really good at keeping people alive.

He slowly backs away into the forest, and starts to run. He goes in and out of the forest finding the statue of liberty, the Washington Memorial, the HHH, wow is that Tsolo?, the Eiffel Tower, the Awful Tower, his mom's house.

Wait GEB GO BACK! you mom might have your tax records!

Geb: Oh right

He turns around and follows his footsteps and comes out in front of a different house, which says GRANDMA on the front. A wolf is creeping up to the house, and he hears a girl singing... whoops wrong story.

Geb goes back again searching for his mom's house. He find MOMS cookies, MOMS convenience store, MOMS gas, but not MOMS house. He goes once more to the edge of the forest and sits down. Looking up, he sees right in front of him a large nondescript building that just radiates evil. He looks for a sign and see a small billboard in gold letters reading TAX BUILDING OF DOOM. He walks over to the sign making sure it's real, and after poking it sees in small writing... "In here are weapons of mass destruction".

Well crap, that must be how the hide it from the government.

The TBOD?!?! What will Geb do, go in, go back into the forest and try to find his mom's house again? Join the protesters outside.. wait protesters? who are they, why are they here. How'd they find what the US government couldn't? Well that last one is easy, it was the dancing chickens. Oh noos there's dancing chickens again!

Meanwhile (NeS count: Qhobef in base-36), in the writer’s realm…

Sem the Writer: “…so then we can get everyone back to The Arena[sup]tm[/sup], because they have to fight to the death or something while impending disasters threaten to destroy the world, and we can have a last big climactic fight scene. What do you think?”

Geb the Writer: *twitch* “Arena[sup]tm[/sup]?”

Hours later, the writers are cleaning up the remains of GtW’s breakdown. Overturned file cabinets, litter the landscape of the writer’s realm for miles around, and their now charred and bloody contents are being shoveled into a portal labeled ‘Canada’. GtW sits in a corner, glowering at StW.

GtW: noticing something on a shred of paper “What’s this? ‘ebohq’s Taxes’?”

Moments later, lost in the middle of a dark and very expensive forest

Geb’s cellphone: *ZeldaItem.wav*

Geb: “Hello? Yes…. I see…. So by ‘found’ you mean…. How many pieces?.... You don’t know…. Thrown into Canada with a load of garbage? Have I mentioned that I hate you?”

Geb hangs up and quickly dials TLTE.

Geb: “Yo! I need a favor… yeah, the tax thing… yeah, we just gotta go pick them up… $20?... $40?... I know you don’t, but you could use it to bribe the garden judges… yeah you can use a bribe for a bribe… ok, bring some people… where are we going? Uhh… someplace… I’ll tell you when you get here…. yeah, see you in a few.”

Meanwhile (NeS count: Qhobeg), the Taxman is observing from the IRS surveillance facility via spy-satellite. Because you can totally overhear a phone conversation from space.

Taxman: “Counselor Korb, prepare 300 of your best lawyers.”

Korb: “Right away, sir.”

Say it.

Taxman: “What?”

Saaay it.

Taxman: “No.”

Come on!

Taxman: “You say it, if you want to so badly.”

Alright, have it your way…

Tax-men, tonight we fine in Hell!!!

Taxman: “I hate you so much.”

Meanwhile in the haunted house of heroes heat and smoke begins gather at the ceiling, inching its way down.

Voodoo: I knew I should have saved the fire extingusher instead of using it fighting some random encounter!

Geb: "Crap, I can't be seen in public like this, or I'll be hunted down like a rabid dog and put down! Even now, forces are surely at work, drawing ever closer onto my position..."

Zip-pan to the nearest police office, which would be in charge of finding Gebohq.

Police Chief: "I want a manhunt on this Mr...*looks at paperwork* Ohq, on the double!"

Officer #2: "Can it just be on the, uh, single, sir? The guy's not exactly a hardened criminal, and we're overdue on a donut run."

Police Cheif: "...sure. And where the blazes is Officer #1?"

Officer #2: "Getting his name legally changed, sir. He said he couldn't live life being quote 'just a number' or something."

Police Chief: "I see. What's he getting his name changed to?"

Officer #2: "John Doe."

Zip-pan back to Gebohq, darting to and fro through small city alleyways.

Gebohq: "If I'm to stay alive, I'm going to have to take... drastic measures...

Gebohq jumps into one of those ladder-walkway things you see attatched to the sides of city homes, does some fancy acrobatics across a laundry line, and stealing some of those clothes in the process. He now wears a black hoodie shirt that says "Believe" in small, white text, and a pair of blue cargo jeans, both of which are at least one size too large for him. He then crawls through a nearby open window and into a kitchen. In a room nearby, a young black city woman watches the newest reality TV show "The Forgotten." She does not notice Gebohq entering, but Gebohq is aware of her. Slow and silent, Gebohq opens drawers, looking for something...he pulls out a large pair of scissors. He appears to be walking towards the woman...

She notices nothing.

He starts raising the scissors above his head, his face grim, about to do what he swore never to do...

She notices nothing.

*ssshhhhhnip shhnip shhhhnip*

"AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHH!"[/b]

The woman turns around. She sees Gebohq standing a little behind her, looking at a mirror in horror, with a sizable chunk of his hair on the floor. His hair, while not exactly short, now looks vaguely more like a "man's" length. To Gebohq, the act of cutting his hair was like cutting a lion's mane. To this woman, it was a scraggly stranger intruding into her home and getting hair all over her floor.

woman: "Who are you? What the hell are you doing? And are you wearing my boyfriend's clothes?"

Gebohq: "Uh...uh...uh--"

--and promptly runs like hell.

woman: "GET BACK HERE!"

In the local court:

Officer 1: Look I just want the name John Doe

Court Official #4678.23: I'm sorry sir that is not a legal name change

Officer 1: Well why not?

Court Official #4678.23: Well sir there's only one way to get that name.

Officer 1: I'm listening...

Court Official #4678.23: I'm sorry sir but you are unable to fulfill the necessary criteria to allow this court to gift you with that name.

Officer 1: Of all the bloody ridiculous... visibly calms down and puts on a nasty smile you know is going to entail way too much bloodshed in the near furutre ... Well then what DO I have to do to get the name

Court Official #4678.23: I'm sorry sir, but according to our records you must die in a fire and become completely unrecognizable, and we the coroner must be unable to identify you for you to earn that name.

Officer 1: That sounds painful

Court Official #4678.23: Yes quite. I beleive that you would have to file a form in order to undergo that much pain. Not to mention about 3.7 forms to die in a fire, and if you were intending on using a house, the most usual way to die you would also have to fill another 4 sheets copied, signed by three professional witnesses, paying their fees and doing their paper work of course, annotated, spited, gutted, drawn and quarter and above all stamped by the lead clerk.

Officer 1: To get my name changed?!

Court Official #4678.23: No sir, that is to be eligible to get your name changed.

Officer 1: But I'd be dead!

Court Official #4678.23: Oh bother, yes you would have to fill out extra forms for you condition sir. Now what would you like for your new name?

Later at the police station...

Police Chief: Have we gotten any leads on the search for... uhm... well... what's his name?

Officer 2: No sir we haven't


Police Chief and where is Officer 1? Hasn't he got his name changed yet?

Officer 2: Yes sir, he's in the back finding solace in the donunt horde sir.

Police Chief: Well why the bloody 'ell is he doing that?

Officer 2: Your being like a bobby again sir.

Police Chief: Oh sorry, thank you. Now, what is Officer 1's problem? And his new name for that matter?

Officer 2: That's is the problem chief

Police Chief: What?

Officer 2: His new name sir

Police Chief are you going to tell me it already or are you going to make this joke last forever?

Officer 2: At least I didn't say we were fining in hell

Police Chief: Bollocks what does that have to do with anything?!

Officer 2: I don't really know sir, maybe you should go see the former Officer 1

Police Chief: I think I will Goes to the back Former Officer 1 are you there?

Dieinafireyoustupid Clerk: Yes, why am I the but of bad jokes?

Police Chief: because the writer's are evil son, the writer's are evil

Going back to important and actual plot/storyline devolopment that your all here for

Wait they're here for story devolopment?

No, they're here to see dancing chickens, and taxmen in hell, and canadians being fined, OF COURSE they're here for story devolopment you ****

Oh... wait, who am I?

I don't know, I just don't know... anyway to continue with the plot, we last saw Gebohq running through the streets and stealing poor woman's boyfriends clothing

Are you sure? That sounds rather silly

Of course I'm sure, I'm the narrator, now shut up you

Geb: Why am I always getting into these kinds of problems?
Geb runs from the woman, scissors still in hand. Rather stupid really didn't anyone ever tell you not to run with scissors?

Geb: Yes. Didn't anyone ever tell you talking with yourself is a bad sign?

How bout you? Your talking to a disembodied voice that can make you go anywhere. Shouldn't YOU be the one worrying?

Geb: Not really, it's been happening so long it would be sad with you all gone

He continues to run, dodging around booths, jumping up walls, swinging with clothes lines, and the slowly the sound of music starts to be heard

Geb: This is NOT a disney movie, I don't get my own theme song for running away from someone

Fine your right your not as cool as Aladin

Geb: hey that was mean

Your right, I'm sorry Geb, here let me make it up to you.
Geb, easily evades his pursuers in amazingly awesome alliterated actions that no normal person could do.

Geb: Thank you

Your welcome. Uhm I'm not sure where you are

Geb: Great you got me lost again?

What will Geb do, the narrator got him lost! Wow I'm really bad at this aren't I? What about Dieinafireyoustupid Clerk? Will he ever get used to his name? And why aren't there dancing chickens this time? Stay tuned for the next exciting adventure of..... Wait what is this called again? Oh yeah NeS!

Woman: Oh no! My show!

The woman runs back to her T.V. with more effort than she did running after Geb.

TV announcer: Next time on The Forgotten...

Various little teasers clips play with dramatic music, one character is seen crying, another with a puzzled look, and two female forgotten characters giving each other death glares. One of the hosts if the show says "today your challenge is..."
More puzzled and surprised looks are exchanged from most of the forgotten contestants. Chickens Dance and then the credits quickly roll across the screen.

Closed captioning provided by...

The Convience Store of the Damned.

....

Boyfriend: Honey? Have you seen my hoodie?

Setting: a winding back road, running through the wooded Appalachian Mountains in Virginia. The only car driving on it for fifty miles is a van, with Maybechild, Ahnuld, Mustang, Ford, and Dr. Dormouse inside. At the moment, Maybechild is driving, with Ahnuld acting as navigator. Ford and Mustang are behind them, deep in academic discussion, and Dr. Dor is sitting alone, behind them, idly petting one of his inanimate bats, his expression vacent...

Maybe: "So how long before our next turn, Ahnuld?"

Ahnuld: "I dunno..."

Maybe: "Don't give me that crap again! You have a freakin' GPS built into you!"

Ahnuld: "Uh...I need to go take a wee."

Maybe: "WHAT? No you don't! You're a robot!"

Ahnuld: "I do too!"

Maybe: "You do not!"

Ahnuld: "I do! I really do! I really really really really really really really really really really really really really really really really really really really really--"

Maybe: "ALL RIGHT ALREADY! Geez. I should have had Ford sit up here instead..."

Maybechild pulls the van over to the side and stops.

Maybe: "Alright, five-minute stretch break, everyone. Go...do whatever, because I'm not going to stop again until we get to D.C. Don't go too far--THAT MEANS YOU, AHNULD!"

Everyone steps out. Ahnuld skips over behind some trees, humming to himself to a recent trickling sound. Maybechild looks towards Ahnuld's direction, while Ford and Mustang stand nearby, stretching and still debating over the significance of John Cage's 4'33" piece. Meanwhile, Dr. Dormouse shuffles out of the van, leaving his inanimate bats in the van, and drifts towards the other side of the van...and stops.

Dr. Dormouse looks up, and sees a towering figure that looks to have been conceived by Leonardo Da Vinci, if Da Vinci were to have created an angel of death -- Tsolo. His canvas wings, which appear repaired, surround his body, an intricite ink pattern flowing over them. Dr. Dormouse stands there, his eyes growing wide as a realization stood before him... he is about to say something when Tsolo's hands suddenly clamp onto his head. Dr. Dormouse struggles to free himself from Tsolo's grip, his body twisting and twitching in a primitive reflex. Tsolo begins to extend his wings and cage his victim within, as the doctor attempts to scream...

On the other side of the van, Ford shivers, then begins looking around.

Ford: "Hey, do you know where the Doc is?"

Mustang: "Yeah, he wandered around the other side of the van, I think..."

Ford walks around, but sees no one.

Ford: "Uh...guys? Where's Dor?"

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

A half-hour passes as Ford and the others try to find the missing Dr. Dormouse. They are all now back at the van, all quite worried, except for Ahnuld, having been distracted by a frog.

Ford: "I don't understand. We've checked everywhere. He couldn't have gone far. He left his stuff in the van."

Maybe: "Well, not that I wouldn't like him to be back, but we have to get going. Besides, this is the NeS. He'll be alright."

Mustang: "No...I don't think he will be."

Maybe: "You may be a hundred years old or whatever, but I happen to know you haven't been around for as many 'ages as me. This sort of thing happens a lot, so you'll have to trust me--"

Mustang: "No! This is different. I think Dr. Dormouse has been lost...forever."

Maybe: "Did you... go smoking some of my personal stuff?"

Mustang: -_-

Ford: "What are you implying?"

Mustang: "Listen...Ford, do you remember, just before we left the house, when we all seem to have...stopped?"

Ford: "Yeah... that was pretty disturbing. What of it, though?"

Mustang: "That moment, Dr. Dormouse's disappearance... they're consistant with the legend of the Avatar of Loss."

Ford: "You've got to be kidding me! You actually believe in that nonsense?"

Mustang: "Must I remind you that we are in the NeS? And about the nature of 'nonsense tales' in stories like this one? 'The axe that is broken...'"

Ford: "Touche. But even if it existed, that legend claims that the Avatar of Loss was destroyed some 400 years ago, never to return unless--"

Ford stops.

Maybe: "Unless what, Ford?"

Ford: "...unless the blood of a Blank gave it life again. Young..."

Maybe: "So what the hell is an Avatar of--"

Ford: "Maybechild! We have to go back! Tell the others what we know!"

Maybe: "Like hell we will! They can deal with their own problems."

Mustang: "Miss Child, if we don't confront this now, we could all become forever lost."

Maybe: "You two need to stop being all melodramatic and!--...and just chill, OK? Whatever this thing is, we'll be able to take care of it. If Gebohq could defeat the all-knowing Ever-ending Plot, we can certainly take care of this Avatar of Emo, at least until we make our way with the other Forgotten. We have the Dust, we have that crazy daggar-thingy of Sarn's, and we have the NeS story conventions with us. We'll be fine, Dr. Dormouse will be fine, everyone will be fine... *sigh* Look, Ford, when we get to D.C., we can give the others a call, if we have the time, OK?"

The three of them stand around in awkward silence. The mood is broken when Ahnuld can be heard saying "Come back, froggie!"

Ford: "...we should get going."

Maybe: "Good idea. Let's get back in then--AHNULD! STOP LICKING THE FROG! Everything will be chill once we're with the Forgotten, just keep telling yourself that...

The Haunted House of Heroes is now a fiery inferno. Inside, several NeSHeroes rush over cinder and smoking floorboards; some of the more industrious, such as Losien and Mimiru, are actively battling the flames, while others merely run for their lives against increasingly poor survival odds. The Patriot watches carefully as The Last True Evil races upstairs, three steps at a time - but a collapsing support beam smashes through the staircase and effectively cuts off his pursuit.

The Patriot: Damn it.

Semievil: The fire burns me!

He sprints madly past The Patriot's field of vision, in the process of being horrifically immolated.

The Patriot: This is the modern standard for heroes?!

Sugarless: Hold still, Sem! I'll hit you with this hammer to take your mind off it!

The Patriot: I think I'd rather be in a trauma-induced coma again.

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

Upstairs, the situation is not much better. His ageing lungs filling with smoke, TLTE coughs and hacks as he runs for Amal's bedroom.

TLTE: Amal! Amal!

Finally, he reaches the young child's bedroom; but as he reaches for the doorknob, a figure bursts out from the gloom and grabs his arm.

Michael: TLTE, wait!

TLTE: Get out of my way, you fool, I have to save the boy!

Michael: TLTE, The flames from the jet wreckage caught this section of the house first. I watched the fire spread to this wing myself!

TLTE ignores him, grappling with the door handle. When the door does not open, the spy throws his shoulder into the rickety door frame, which begins to give way.

Michael: My friend, he is dead. This is one horror that you need not -

TLTE grabs Michael by the collar and throws him against the wall.

TLTE: You lie, Michael. I don't know how you've returned after you were gutted like a fish, but you are a traitor and a murderer and I am not your friend.

They stare at each other, through the smoke, through the heat. TLTE's mind makes an awful cross-connection and he sees Michael's face in front of him, livid with rage, gold sabers flashing and sparking -

And he sees his dying face, twisted in pain, struggling to make peace with his only friends in the world -

And he sees Michael's face years back, when they had first met, laughing and joking and vying for Losien's affections -

Michael: I...I am sorry. Let's go in and get him.

Slowly, TLTE loosens his grip.

TLTE: This isn't over.

Michael: It never is.

Both men turn to the door, and with a combined heave, smash the door back into the room.

Fire immediately licks at both their faces, confirming their fears. TLTE steps forward, preparing for the worst. Almost immediately, his eyes adjust to the room and he gasps in shock, letting in more smoke and coughing, barely noticing it.

Amal: You came for me!

Amal is sitting cross-legged on the bed. Fire has consumed the room almost entirely...but it falls back from Amal's position, curving around his space at all angles, creating a spherical haven in a room otherwise lost to the blaze. The flames refuse to get near Amal, who smiles cheerfully at the two adventurers.

And Amal: Amal has changed.

TLTE: This boy...he's older.

Michael: It's impossible.

And yet the proof lies before their eyes, incontravertible - Amal has aged at least five years since they last saw him. Though still a youth, and still possessed of a timid, heartbreaking fragility, the boy's eyes don't seem to eat up his entire face any more. His limbs have grown longer, and seem more in proportion to the rest of his body. His hair is longer, thicker, and has acquired a golden sheen. The cute boy of eleven or twelve that TLTE rescued from the Dreamstate is now sixteen to seventeen in appearance, and well on the way to becoming a handsome, fully fledged young man.

Amal: You've helped me a lot, Tee Ell Tee Ee. You're just like my uncle! And now, I want to do something for you...

The boy stands up on his bed, and extends his hands - to both men, it appears as though Amal is writing down something in the air with an invisible pen. As he does so, the fire...simply...disappears. It looks as though it is systematically removed from the room, then the corridor, EVERYWHERE, with a giant invisible eraser. From downstairs, Michael hears voices:

Losien: What the hell?

Sugarless: The fire just disappeared!

Semievil: I'm alive! And no longer on fire!

But Amal continues to mime some kind of scholarly movement, and then the damage to the house itself begins to undo as well - as if a film being played backwards, the haunted house restores itself to its former (dilapidated) glory.

Michael: TLTE, this is some kind of magic that the kid knows. This is...I've never seen this before.

TLTE: I don't think it's magic, Michael. That's just the thing.

Amal gets down from his bed, beaming with self-satisfaction as he gives TLTE a brief hug and runs downstairs.

TLTE: This child can alter the fabric of the NeS to an extraordinary degree - and only Gebohq has shown some ability in that field before. I think I know why the child's "uncle" hid him for so long. Amal has been empowered by the WriterGod himself.

He runs a hand through his short beard, furrowing his brow.

TLTE: Amal is a Wielder.

Amal sits on his bed slowly. A gleam starts to appear in his eye, and he whispers something inaudible, and waves his hand. Suddenly Semievil start screaming.

Semievil: Ahhh oh no, not again! I'm on fire, oh it burns, it buuurns.
He runs around the HHH screaming in pain.

Sugarless: Crap! where did I put that hammer again? Don't worry Sem, i'll help you out as soon as I can!
She too runs around, trying to find the hammer she just had. It lays at Amal's feet. Both Semievil and Sugarless run into Amal's room, Semievil still screaming. Amal waves his hand, and Semievil goes out.

Semievil: I'm not on fire again! Wait, didn't we just do this?
TLTE enters the room

TLTE: yes we did, now why were you screaming again Sem?

Semievil: I was on fire.

Amal once more moves his hand, and Semievil flames up again.

Amal: Flame on! hehehe

Semievil: oh the burn

TLTE: Amal did you just do that?

Amal: Hehe, yes Tee El Tee Ee, it's so much fun don't you think!
Amal waves his hand, and Semievil goes out. He waves his hand again. Flames shoot from Semievil. Back, off, Froward, on, off, on off, Semievil starts just continues to scream, and slowly falls to the floor

TLTE: Amal! Stop that right now!

Amal: Tee El Tee Ee? But why? It's fun!
A wild smile lights up his face, and a dark gleam comes to his eye

Amal: I wonder how long he can take it. It's been 4 minutes so far.
The small innocent face starts to take on the look of a monster, evil radiating from him.

TLTE: Amal, stop it NOW! I mean it, stop hurting him, that's bad... evil.

Amal: But your The Last True Evil, this makes you happy doesn't it?

TLTE: No, he's well, an ally at the very least. I wouldn't want him tortured and killed right at this second for sure.

Amal: But why not? He can do nothing to stop me. He's powerless. Everyone here is powerless.
His smile starts growing bigger

Amal: I could hurt all of you...

TLTE: Then what was the point of saving us from the fire orginally?
Amal's smile slowly starts to drop, and he looks at Semievil, curling in a ball from the pain

Amal:There would be no point.
He waves his hand again, and Semievil seems to rewind, going back till he is once again not on fire. Amal hangs his head, and a tear starts to form on his eye.

Amal: I'm sorry, he starts to sob, but this is what my Uncle liked. And they called him evil too.
Amal continues to cry, tears dripping from his eyes, and soaking his lap. TLTE awkwardly puts his arm around the boy

TLTE: it's ok Amal, it was an honest mistake.
TLTE looks at the others in the room, his gaze troubled. It might have been a mistake, but it had nearly cost Semievil his life. What were they going to do with the boy?

TV news reporter: ...and the last of the Canadian forces have been driven out of the United States and England. World leaders are currently in a private summit with the head of the organization that have called themselves "the Forgotten." They've won the hearts of us all, that's for certain.

The TV news reporter is handed a slip of paper, and he quickly looks over it.

TV news reporter: This just in -- police are currently searching for the professional hero, Gebohq, as he has been charged with tax evasion and possible collaboration with the Canadian government in detaining approximately 420,000 people. Please submit any information which may help in apprehending this fugitive.

He puts away the paper and continues addressing the camera directly as before.

TV news reporter: In other news, scientists around the world continue to study the new solar phenomenon, once Jupiter, now known most commonly as "Zeno." Despite its violent and sudden creation, this psuedo-sun appears to have no catastrophic effects. For now, we can all enjoy a new violet star in the sky--

The scene "turns off" and zooms out, to show The Last True Evil having turned off the television. The other hero-types moan as he does this.

TLTE: Quiet. I'll need all of your attention as I address some issues in a manner that is certainly not a recap for the convinience of the readers.

Michael: We have readers?

TLTE: Right, I meant writers.

Sugarless: We have writers?

TLTE: Humor me. So, first, I'd like to welcome our newer friends: Ariana, who was rescued back in NeShattered -- by the way, did anyone figure out who "Drat" was?

Subaru: Nope.

Antestarr:

TLTE: OK then-- I'd like to also welcome Calilmalith, whom I'd like to thank on behalf of us all from releasing us from our prison.

Granny Cal: Of course, dear.

TLTE: And Sugarless. Um...where'd you get those mushrooms, anyway?

Sugarless: I 'unno.

TLTE: Right... and, of course, a warm welcome back for Young, who was nearly wed against her will.

Young: I still don't feel well...

Subaru: Have you had your period?

Granny Cal: Is she old enough?

Mimiru: Does she even have periods?

Sugarless: Do any of us? Last I checked, we're story characters - we don't do a lot of things. And if we do, I'm going to have to hurt somebody--

TLTE: Uh--uhh--pressing on with the immediate issues!

Semievil: Like your kid lighting me on fire! Multiple times!

TLTE: First off, Amal already apologized for that.

Amal:

Semievil:

TLTE: Second, his ability to wield the story like Gebohq is something I will be discussing with him at great length, after this meeting. Now--

Sugarless: Uh...question.

TLTE: What?

Sugarless: What do you mean by "wield the story?"

The Patriot: I'm sure it's nothing but communist lies. Why are you all listening to him? I think--

Sugarless: I didn't ask you, so can it, Uncle Sam.

There is a stunned silence from some of the group, such as The Patriot and Sarn Cadrill. Sugarless does not back down, however, and the Patriot resigns back to observing (mostly on The Last True Evil.)

Sugarless: So anyway, is this "wielding" like magic or something?

TLTE: Not really. Well...kind of, I suppose. The short of it is that a story wielder is someone who can directly alter the fundamental nature of our existance -- elements of conflict, choice, chance, context, and convention. Where a magic-user may conjure a fire in an attempt to fight someone, a story-wielder would appeal to the "story" itself -- the NeS -- in an attempt to alter a story convention in their favor, in a degree beyond simple knowledge of these elements. It's uncertain how wielding the story works, exactly, but until recently, only Gebohq exhibited such a power. The fact that Amal appears to be able to wield as well only affirms my belief that he will be of great importance to the NeS someday.

Semievil: Or start collecting dust again...

TLTE: *ahem* As I was saying, there is also the issue of our renegade comrades. Maybechild, Ford, and a number of others left us virtually trapped here, in our HQ, while they have left with the Dust--

Mimiru: I thought we cleaned that up?

TLTE: --apparently not well enough-- and a dagger of some sort that belongs to Sarn.

Sarn: I had a dagger?

Voodoo: How do you not know? Did you not remember fighting off something with it not too long ago?

Sarn: ...I fought something?

Voodoo: Oh geez. You'd think you'd have noticed when you got changed or something...

Sarn:

TLTE: Perhaps someone should check Sarn's medical history... We also appear to have an impostor acting as Thrawn42689.

Otter: We're still investigating that matter!

Antestarr: Looks more like you're playing Phoenix Wright on a DS there.

DS speaker: Objection!

Thrawnbot: Oo-oo! Question the witness about the night of the murder!

Everyone looks momentarily at The Otter and Thrawn42689, who are engrossed in their Nintendo DS game.

TLTE: ...right, so, anything else?

Silence. Everyone looks at Losien, who has been quiet up to this point.

Losien: ...what?

CoolMatty: Well, you're the only one who hasn't said anything in this post.

Losien: But you didn't say anything either.

CoolMatty: I just did.

Losien: Uh...what about Wai--

Wai wanders away.

Losien: What am I supposed to say?

TLTE: Perhaps you can close the post with something that'll advance the situation we're in. Say, perhaps a means of tracking our renegade comrades?

CoolMatty: *to Losien* You want to have me teleport us all and declare CoolMatty the most useful hero ever...[/size]

Losien: Uh...um...

Granny Cal: If I may? Why don't we see about having Amal "wield the story" for us?

The group of hero-types consider the idea.

CoolMatty: Or listen to CoolMatty instead...

(NB: Read the latest NeShattered developments first.)

From within his mystical tower Deitopos, safely hidden in the ethereal folds of time and space that constitute the Dreamstate, Arkng Thand opens a book. Unlike the other dusty tomes in his library, this volume is slender and new. Its title is "This Violent New World: The Land of NeShattered." The book is obviously magical, or not really a book at all, because it has no words, or indeed no paper - instead, within it is a picture that demonstrates the goings-on in NeShattered. Stoically, Thand studies Gebiyl's emergence and subsequent living nightmare. Then - that rarest of all things - Thand betrays himself and displays emotion.

A wide smile grows across his face.

Arkng Thand: Utterly fascinating. The end of the story begins, so to speak. And NeSquared is still relatively young. Ah well - I suppose the rest of the events of this story shall have to be carried out in the ever-growing shadow of its own doom.

Suddenly, he brings his hands together in an incredibly complex, inimitable fashion - and his attire changes, adding onto his immaculate dark green suit a matching coat.

A traveller's coat.

Arkng Thand: And now, to business.

Later, while the heroes are still deliberating as to their course of action, Sarn slips from the room unnoticed. He closes the door quietly behind him, and proceeds down the hall. As he reaches the end of the hall, he hears the door open behind him. He stops and turns.

Voodoo: Sarn? What's up? Why'd you leave?

Sarn: I'm fine. I just need a minute.

Sarn leans back against the wall and shuts his eyes. He exhales slowly. When he opens them, he sees that Voodoo has closed the distance between them. She now stands close. She takes his hands in hers.

Voodoo: You don't look fine. What's bothering you?

Sarn: It's just... Well everyone, even you, is looking at me like I did something crazy, and I don't remember a damn thing.

Voodoo: What are you talking about? No one's treating you any different. We've known you've had some.. quirks for a long time. We just didn't realize it was anything this serious.

Sarn: Quirks? What are you talking about?

Voodoo: I don't really know how to talk about this, Sarn.

Sarn: Just.. Do you best. I need to know what's going on.

Voodoo: Well... it's the different personalities. One minute you're Sarn Cadrill, a confident, young hero, and the next you're Captain Cadpill. Some kind of egotistical starship captain or something.

Sarn begins to say something, but Voodoo rushes on before he can speak.

Voodoo: It's not a bad thing. You're a little bit crazy, and that's part of what I like about you. I don't want you to think that this is a problem.

Sarn: The Captain... How do you know about him? I see him in my dreams.

Voodoo: You are him. He is you. Or at least sometimes. You don't recognize these changes?

Sarn: I don't know what you're talking about. So I've got this whole other person living inside of me?

Voodoo: I've thought about this, and no, I don't think so. I think they're both you. Just different parts of you. But this other one...

Voodoo trails off for a moment, then resumes.

Voodoo: When you're the Captain, and when you're who you are now, I still feel like I know you. But this... This Kern. It's like he's someone else entirely. I don't see anything of you in him.

Sarn shudders.

Sarn: I... You know about Kern? He's... some kind of monster in my dreams. He's always in the shadows, but I know he's there. I can feel him.

Voodoo: Can you feel him now?

Sarn: No... Or.. I don't think so. But the dreams...

Voodoo: Tell me about your dreams.

Sarn: It's just.. I don't know, I can never remember very clearly. But it's always something simple. The Captain and I will be playing cards or something. We're talking, having a good time. He's funny if you don't take him too seriously. But then... Kern is always there.. He doesn't play cards. I can just feel him watching. But then when I turn to look, there's no one there.

Voodoo leans back against the wall beside Sarn. She wraps her arm around his waist. They lean quietly against the wall for several minutes, Sarn staring ahead into space. Finally Voodoo speaks again, tentatively.

Voodoo: What if.. Do you think you can control it?

Sarn: I don't know. I wouldn't even know where to begin.

The two fall silent again for several minutes.

Voodoo: Come on. It's getting late. Let's go somewhere more comfortable.

Voodoo takes Sarn by the hand and leads him off to one of the many bedrooms in the Haunted House of Heroes.

TLTE: Well unless anyone else has a better idea, I think this is as good a time as any to to test Amal's ability to story-wield us to our renegade comrades.

Antestarr: I have a better idea.

TLTE: Yes?

Antestarr: We do nothing.

TLTE: Excuse me?

Antestarr: Well, not "nothing," if you want to get technical, but at the very least, not chasing after our friends, colleges, and total strangers as if they were our enemies.

TLTE: But they've taken the Dust and a weapon of some significance. They're intending to join the Forgotten... and you're suggesting we do nothing about it?

Antestarr: Yes.

TLTE: Please humor us with a reason why we should listen to your suggestion.

Antestarr: Reason? Since when have we done anything out of reason around here? The very notion of reason is grounds for the likes of writers, villains, the Ever-ending Plot... considering that, perhaps you all shouldn't listen to me.

Mimiru: Quit being so avoidant and just spit it out!

Antestarr: As you wish. We shouldn't pursue them for at least two reasons. First, there's been no direct threat as of yet by them, either to us or to any people in general--

TLTE: They were plotting evil on Michael's space station. I should know, I was there.

Michael MacFarlane, Subaru, and Semievil all grow increasingly uncomfortable about the subject.

Antestarr: That is not enough for us, and you know it. Villains have to be actively evil for heroes and the like to pursue them. We're part of a story that demands the most drama -- or comedy -- out of a situation before we act upon it. If we try to pressure our way into a situation, we'll wander about, without direction, solving nothing. Our existance will become lost in papers no one will want to read.

Losien: I thought things might have been different now...

TLTE: What do you mean?

Losien: Nothing...

TLTE: Hey, none of that! Speak!

Losien: I should have stayed with Maybechild...

TLTE: What kind of nonsense are you talking about now?

Losien begins to cry softly. Granny Cal gets up and helps Losien up, holding her as she walks Losien out of the room.

CoolMatty: Smooth move, comrade.

TLTE: Why do I always have to be the bad guy?

Antestarr opens his mouth to say something.

TLTE: Don't answer that.

The Patriot opens his mouth to say something.

TLTE: You say anything and I'll show you what MAD really means.

Sugarless opens her mouth to say something.

TLTE: NOBODY SAY ANYTHING ABOUT THE RHETORICAL QUESTION I ASKED, GOT IT?

Sugarless: I was just going to ask about dinner...

Antestarr: The other matter is that I, as the last leader of this group, specifically disbanded us from any obligations. Even without considering the other matter, too many of us are more concerned with our own affairs... case in point, Abbott and Costello over there.

Antestarr gestures to The Otter and Thrawnbot, still playing Phoenix Wright on the DS.

Antestarr: In other words, not everyone will want to go on this adventure. Sarn and Voodoo already left in the middle of our meeting on the matter.

Everyone ponders for a moment about what the two of them went off to do...

TLTE: Borscht! You all are supposed to be heroes -- I don't want to hear it, Antestarr -- and we should be out there stopping this new threat now!

Antestarr: No one's stopping you. Besides, I didn't see you doing anything concerning Gebohq with the police.

TLTE: ...we'll deal with this later. Right now, I have to take care of some things.

The Patriot: Evil things?

TLTE: -_-

Sugarless: *to Young* Does this outfit make me look fat?

Back on the road with the infected "heroes:" Maybechild still has the wheel, with Ahnuld in the passenger seat, acting simultaneously as navigation unit and radio.


Ahnuld: can i change the station? Christian Contemporary makes me want to smash things with my face.


Maybechild: You are opposed to the spread of morality to the masses through the use of music?

Ahnuld: No, i'm opposed to people who cant play guitars screeching into badly mixed microphones.

There comes indistinct murmuring from the backseat of the van where Ford and his great great grandfater, mustang sit. maybe hears it and yells back.

Maybe: you two better not be discussing the dissappearance of...whatsisface, or i'll turn this van right around.

Mustang: oh yes, we are. please do.

Maybe: its a figure of speech. what was his name again?

Ford: Doctor...um...well crap i cant seem to remember...

Mustang: its another attribute of the Avatar of Loss. once taken, all memory of the character in question is slowly eradicated from the mids of those who know him.

Maybe: or her.

Mustang: or her. the point being that once they are lost, it becomes as if they never existed.

Ford: yes, and key peices of story where the character in question played a big role are rewritten in the minds of those who knew them.

Maybe: Sounds like a load of hooey if you ask me.

Ahnuld: *grabbing a pulsh bat from the ceiling.* I'll never forget you Dr....uh...whatsyername. *snuffle*

Maybe: you hadnt even met him before this trip you doofus.

Ahnuld: ya-huh! she was my best friend and i'll never forget her!

Maybe: he was a dude.

Ahnuld: whatever *cuddles and strokes the bat.*

As the gang hangs around in the Haunted Hall of Heroes, there is a momentary silence. A sound can be heard outside, a thrumpling, gallumphing sound....

Sugarless: What is that?

Antestarr: It's getting closer, whatever it is...

Suddenly, a giraffe smashes through the window, bleating loudly and terrifiedly. It scrambles awkwardly through the room and exits with great difficulty through the door.

Semievil: That was... a giraffe.

Just then, the wall nearby explodes inward! Flying through the cloud of splinters comes a hairy midget swinging a great big axe!

Hairy Midget: GRAAAAH! COME BACK, DINNER!

Antestarr: Krig?

Can it be? Has our insane midget viking returned to us? Is it really Krig? Whoever it is, it runs across the room and out the door, ignoring everybody else, in hot pursuit of the giraffe!

Cool Matty: Was that... Krig?

Semievil: I'm pretty sure that was a giraffe he was chasing.

Just then, through the hole in the wall left by the hairy midget crawls a clown with rainbow hair and a big red nose.

Clown: HEY! *huff, puff* Hey, get back here with our *puff, puff* giraffe!

The clown hurries awkwardly through the room in his big clown shoes after the giraffe and the axe-weilding midget.

Clown: Hey, how ya doin', folks. Comin' through, excuse me. Pardon me. Watch the feet. Oh crap, the lamp! Jeez, I'm really sorry about that. Hey, nice knowin' ya!

The clown exits the door as well, picking up speed.

Silence.

Sugarless: I always wanted to ride a giraffe!

Sugarless runs out the door as well. The Otter and Thrawn42689 jump up and start yelling.

Thrawn42689: Yay! Woohoo!

Otter: Victory is ours! Take that, Mr. Video Game!

Skeleton: So... does that sort of thing happen often around here?

Scene change back to our hero, Gebohq, currently quite lost in a vast expanse of wooded hills.

Gebohq: "Rats, I can't figure my way out. Do I go north four times, or north, west, south and west again?"

Gebohq appears quite different than normal -- having cut his hair short, grown some facial hair, and wearing over-sized jeans and a black hoodie -- in an attempt to disguise himself. Normally, Gebohq's attempt would have been in vain, as there was a woman who witnessed his theft and change in appearance.

However, whether through luck or through an unconscious wielding of the story, the woman's boyfriend happened to be dangeously jealous, and so she kept the matter a secret, blaming the incident on one of their neighbors. A couple months later, the woman would discover that her boyfriend was part of the Canadian mob, when she witnessed him executing a hit on the neighbor she blamed before (the neighbor, incidentially, was about to execute their own plan for world-wide genocide, and would have succeeded, if not for them being murdered). She immediately moved away to her sister's place in Glen Burnie, buried in guilt that she indirectly killed her former neighbor (whom she did not know was evil), and nearly falling into a suicidal depression. The night she would have commited suicide, however, she tripped over a cat and into the arms of a dreamy doctor-type. The two fell in love, she found new meaning in life, and they lived happily ever after, all thanks to Gebohq's intervention. But that's enough of that story.

Back to Gebohq, he manages to successfully navigate himself to a mist-covered grove. On the other side of the grove, embedded into the hillside, is a plain, white door. A metal plaque next to the out-of-place door reads "Entrance" and, in smaller print below that, "Level 5 Clearance Required." Upon closer inspection, Gebohq notices that the entire door has fine print etched across it.

Gebohq: "Yeup, this is it alright -- one of the entrances to The System. Hopefully, I'll find my records and work out this paperwork nightmare..."

Voice: "HALT!"

Gebohq turns around, and sees himself surrounded by 20 of the Taxman's elite lawyer firm.

Gebohq: "Where are the others when I need them?"

---------

Zip-pan to the Haunted House of Heroes.

TLTE: "...eh, maybe I'll tell them later. I'm busy. Geb needs to take care of himself once in a while anyway."

----------

Zip-pan back to Gebohq.

Lawyer #1: "Give yourself up, and we won't be forced to sue you for the emotional damages Lawyer #2 here will receive from having hot coffee spilled on his lap."

Lawyer #2: "Wait...what?"

Gebohq: "But you didn't even bring any police with you... how do you expect to take me into custody? Do you even have guns?"

Lawyer #17: "No, we have The Law!"

Each of the lawyers pull out official-looking documents, and as they do so, grey and white artificial parts slide from out of thin air, forming like a Jenga set into a humanoid robot of sorts... the sort of robot that would rather live its life as a filing cabinet than a human being. The long arm of The Law stretches out at Gebohq, Inspector-Gadget style, with blinding speed. Gebohq side-steps just in time, looking with wide-eyes at the artificial arm now pinning the door closed.

Gebohq: "What the heck -- you guys have control over a PERSONIFICATION?"

Lawyer #1: "We are in possession of your tax forms as well now, so you best do as we say."

Gebohq: "Wait...you have my tax forms?"

Lawyer #1: "Nevermind that-- GET HIM! And someone start a pot of coffee."

Lawyer #2 frowns.

Will Gebohq be apprehended by The Law and the lawyers who manipulate it, or will Gebohq be able to leap through its legal loopholes? Find out, after you read the Terms of Use, the User-Liscence Agreement, and fill out Forms FU-2, IM-1B, RU-24C...

*Gebohq screams in terror as he narrowly dodges a burst of gunfire fromthe Taxbot, which is armed to the teeth with machine guns, particle beam cannons, missile racks and a really big sword.*

Gebohq: Please stop shooting me!

Lawyer #1: Negative! Fire the missiles!

*The Taxbot launches a volley of rockets at Geb, who trips on his shoelaces and falls, barely evading the warheads. The explosives blow a large hole in the floor, exposing the various maintenance ducts below the system's floor. Seeing his chance, Geb leaps through the opening and runs for it.*

Lawyer #2: He's much more clever than we thought.

Lawyer #1: It doesn't matter. He won't get far.

*Meanwhile, back in the Haunted House of Heroes Otter is narrating a monologue detailing the recent events and successful conclusion of his first case.*

Otter: It had been a relatively uneventful day, although one not without merit for we had brought about the most agreeable conclusion to a long and troubling case.

Cool Matty: I'm with TLTE! How can you be so unconcerned about events that obviosly require a heroic response?

Antestarr: All I know is that the more we meddle, the worse these situations usually get.

Otter: Ours was a happy feeling - my detective's appetite quieted for the time being, I could relax safe in the knowledge that a job well done had been most assiduously accomplished by my partner and I.

Antestarr: We need to wait for the situation to develop, and then stirke only at the critical moment.

TLTE: No, we need to move preemptively! If we wait things will just reach the point of no return.

Otter: However, this celebratory time was short-lived. A new case was brewing on the horizon, one which sent a shiver down my spine.

Antestarr: To tell you the truth, I'm much more worried about the amount of profanity everybody's been using lately.

Cool Matty: What the helling hell are you talking about?

Otter: It was the Case of the Deadly Giraffe. And the Case of the Missing Clown. Uh, so it was two cases. In one.

Antestarr: And seriously Otter, what in the name of God are you talking about?

Otter: My good man, I am of course referring to the circus beast and children's entertainer that recently passed through this very room.

Skeleton: You mean you're going after them?

Otter: Presusticately!

Antestarr: That isn't a word.

Otter: Balderdash!

Antestarr: Okay then.

Otter: Come, Dr. Thrawn! To the detectivemobile!

*Thrawn and Otter rush out in pursuit of the Giraffe, the Viking person who may or may not be Krig, one circus clown and Sugarless.*

Antestarr: He basically has no grip on reality.

*In an abandoned parking lot in THE SYSTEM the police are getting ready for the great hunt. K9 units are readied, weapons are loaded, police cars are gassed up. A helicopter circles overhead. At the center of all the chaos is critically acclaimed actor Tommy Lee JonesTM. Mr. Jones raises a bullhorn and begins barking orders in his trademark easygoing but still deadly-serious manner.

Tommy Lee Jones: The Federal Government has authorized a nationwide search for...

*Tommy Lee Jones lifts a picture of Gebohq above his head.*

Tommy Lee Jones: ...Mr. Geb Ohq! Now I want this man. I want him bad. So you go out there and you catch him.

*The cops begin to move out. Tommy Lee JonesTM raises his voice over the racket of barking dogs, car engines and police sirens.*

Tommy Lee Jones: State troopers form roadblocks on all highways in a twenty mile radius. Tax department lawyers last spotted him using sewers and maintenance tunnels to cover his escape so you check those too. You find Ohq, you call for backup. Do not try to take him yourself! Let's close the noose, people!

*Tommy Lee JonesTM boards the command helicopter and the cops move out.*

Back in the Haunted House of Heroes, Sarn and Voodoo lie together in a darkened room. Voodoo sips a cup of coffee that she mysteriously obtained for the sake of story convention, her other hand held in Sarn's, while Sarn rests his head against her shoulder, his eyes closed. Sarn mumbles tiredly:

Sarn: Are you sure you can stay awake? I'm afraid to do this on my own.

Voodoo: I'm here for you. I'm just not sure what I'll be able to do to help.

Sarn: Just.. wake me up if there's... trouble or something. I don't know.

The two relax quietly. Sarn slowly drifts off to sleep.

**Sarn stands in a hallway. There is a light at the end. Vaguely, Sarn can feel someone at his side, holding his hand. But no one is there. He moves toward the light in the hallway. The light comes from a crack under a doorway at the end of the hall. Sarn reaches for the door's handle and opens the door. He steps through. He is in a comfortable sitting room. Several chairs and small couches adorn the room. Along one wall is a large fireplace. Sarn takes a seat on one of the couches, subconsciously sitting to the side to make way for the person beside him. Again he looks to his side, and yet there is still no one there. But the presence he feels comforts him.

The door opens, and Sarn sees himself, garbed in an impressive looking uniform, walk flamboyantly (if it is possible for one to walk flamboyantly) into the room.**

Sarn: Captain

**The Captain wears a holster at his hip, an assortment of fancy electronic gadgets hanging from it, including a dangerous looking laser pistol.**

Captain Cadpill: Sarn, it's good to see you again. Who's that with you?

**Sarn looks to his side once again, but still there is no one there.**

Sarn: I'm.. by myself, Captain.

Cadpill: Yes, I see that you are. It must have been a trick of the light.

Sarn: Perhaps...

Cadpill: ...This feels... different somehow.

Sarn: Yes.

Cadpill: So then. What shall we do?

Sarn: I don't kno-

**The fire flickers as though a breeze has come into the room, though neither Sarn and Captain Cadpill feel it. As one, they look to the door. It remains closed.**

Sarn: Someone is listening in. I can feel them on the other side of the door.

Cadpill: Indeed, Sarn. A dangerous life form if my hunch is correct. Let me run a scan.

**Captain Cadpill pulls one of the electronic gadgets from his belt. He points it towards the door. Lights flash on the device, and the Captain's brow wrinkles in confusion.**

Cadpill: I am getting.. something. But the signal is faint.

**Cadpill pulls his laser pistol.**

Cadpill: Perhaps we should investigate.

Sarn: Yes.

Cadpill: Let's form up into Fireteams. I'll, of course, be Fireteam Alpha. You will be Firetea-

Sarn: There isn't time for that. I'll open the door. You stand ready to fire.

Cadpill: Sarn, we're friends, but you'd better remember you're talking to a Commander of the Fleet.

Sarn: Fine then. What should we do, Sir?

Cadpill: You open the door. I'll stand by, ready to fire.

**Sarn rolls his eyes, and approaches the door. Cadpill takes up position behind him, the laser pistol trained on the doorway. As Sarn reaches for the handle, the door flies open. Sarn is thrown back. He falls into Captain Cadpill and the two fall to the ground. The laser pistol skitters along the ground, coming to rest near the fireplace. Dark clad feet approach, slowly. Captain Cadpill looks up and sees himself, dressed all in black, standing over him and Sarn. He looks back to Sarn, who appears to be unconscious. Cadpill stands to his feet, concealing a quick glance towards his pistol.**

Cadpill: You. So you've chosen to reveal yourself.

??: I have. Sarn has brought it about.

Cadpill: Who are you?

??: I am Kern Salden.

Cadpill: What have you done to Sarn? Is he dead?

**Kern chuckles.**

Kern: Of course not. Killing him now would bring about my own destruction, as well as yours. Perhaps once I find a new host... But Sarn's body has been more than sufficient.

Cadpill: So why is he unconscious?

Kern: All three of us have very strong wills. The two of you are able to exist together because you have been with him for so long. He knows you, so he invites you to join him, or you invite him. It matters not. In time, if I remain in this place, Sarn will learn to respect my presence, but for now, he resists it, and so, we cannot exist together. Sarn is weaker than I. He cannot stop me coming and going as I please. But I have little need to interfere in his life, so generally I leave him to his own devices.

Cadpill: And what of us? We seem to be existing together just fine.

Kern: For someone with such natural talent in these areas, you are terribly ignorant, Captain. Did you not feel yourself invite me in? If you invite me, I do not need to push you aside.

Cadpill: So I invited you? But Sarn did not?

Kern: He resisted. But I needed to speak with one of you. Who is of no consequences, so when you invited me, I took advantage.

Cadpill: I wasn't aware that I'd done that.

Kern: Regardless...

Cadpill: What did you need to speak with me about then?

Kern: I have need of Sarn's body for an extended period of time. I need you to leave the dreamstate and inhabit Sarn's body in order to prepare his friends, those so called heroes, for my intervention, so they do not try to resist.

Cadpill: Why would I help you take over?

Kern: It is for the good of mankind. Tsolo must be stopped, and neither you nor Sarn have the abilities to face him. I have faced him before. I believe I can defeat him.

**Sarn jerks violently on the floor.**

Cadpill: What happened?

Kern: That woman... Voodoo. She is trying to wake him.

**Kern's body begins to fade away.**

Kern: You must go to her. Sarn will not recover fully for several hours, and if he tries to return to the waking world in such a state, it will be disastrous.

Cadpill: How? I don't know how to do that.

**Kern fades away completely. Sarn jerks again. He stands. His skin is pale, his eyes hollow and unfocused.**

Cadpill: Sarn, are you ok?

**Sarn does not respond. He walks toward the door. He stumbles, but regains his feet.**

Sarn: Voodoo...

Cadpill: No. Sarn! Stay here. I'll let you back out when you're recovered.

**Cadpill pushes Sarn aside and darts through the door, pulling it shut securely behind him.**

Black.

Voodoo: Sarn! Sarn! Wake up!

Cadpill: Voodoo.

Voodoo: Sarn?

Cadpill: No. It is I, Captain Cadpill, Commander, UNNS.

Voodoo: What happened? You tensed, and I couldn't wake you.

Cadpill: No time for that now. Come along, Voodoo. We must get to the others.

Cadpill strolls out of the room. Voodoo chases after him.

*Gebohq splashes through the System's sewer system. Hot on his tail, award winning actor/US Marshal Tommy Lee JonesTM gives chase, his sidearm held at the ready. Inching his way around a curve in the tunnel, Mr. Jones realizes that he has reached the end of the line: as he rounds the turn, he sees Gebohq, framed by the pipe's mouth and the thousand-foot drop down to the reservoir below.*

Tommy Lee Jones: Alright Ohq, this jig is up.

Gebohq: Wait!

Tommy Lee Jones: I don't think so.

*Keeping his pistol trained on Gebohq, Tommy Lee JonesTM reaches into his back pocket and grabs his official US Marshal handcuffs.*

Gebohq: But there's something I have to tell you.

*Geb pauses for effect.*

Gebohq: I didn't kill my wife.

Tommy Lee Jones: You don't have a wife.

Gebohq: But -

Tommy Lee Jones: In fact, according to our files you've never even had a serious girlfriend.

*Geb sniffles a bit.*

Gebohq: It's true, oh how it's true!

Tommy Lee Jones: Yes, I know, I just said it.

Gebohq: Goodbye cruel world!

Tommy Lee Jones: Hey, wait a minute -

*Too quick for Tommy Lee JonesTM, Geb flings himself off of the man-made precipice, falls the length of the dam and disappears in the river's swift current. *

Tommy Lee Jones: Blast!

*An out of breath cop runs up to Mr. Jones.*

Cop: Sir, did you catch him?

Tommy Lee Jones: No. I tell you what, this Ohq is a very clever man. Very clever.

*Tommy Lee JonesTM takes one final look at the rushing water down below then begins to walk back the way he came.*

Tommy Lee Jones: Alright, I want divers checking that riverbed within the hour. If we don't find him, widen the search by fifty miles.

Cop: Yes sir!

IN THE WRITERS' REALM

Tracer: ...and then as the alien mothership lands, Tommy Lee Jones pulls out this gigantic bazooka and blows it out of the sky! What do you say?

Gebohq: Um, it's alright.

Tracer: That's it?

TLTE: Well, it seemed to be more about Tommy Lee Jones than any of the actual main characters.

Sarn: And even then the Tommy Lee Jones character is just a stupid combination of various roles he's played in the past.

Tracer: No come on, it's good! I'm trying to take things up a notch!

Gebohq: Sounds like somebody needs to be locked in the closet again...

Geb: GASP!

There is a loud splashing as Geb emerges from the roiling waters, gasping for air. He doggy-paddles over to shore, and heaves himself out of the water, collapsing on the rocky ground, panting heavily.

Geb: Good Lord, what cruel monster put a banana peel right at the edge of that thousand foot drop? I was just bluffing!

The sound of helicopters and dogs barking cuts Geb's rueing short, and he staggers to his feet. He limps off into the bushes, his limp turning into an awkward shambling gallop as he picks up speed, weaving through the trees. For half an hour he runs, the sound of dogs and helicopters and men distant but still there. Abruptly, Geb stumbles out into a clearing.

In the middle of the clearing lies a house, made of gingerbread and candy.

Geb: Oh, no! I'm not that dumb!

Geb keeps running, past the house. Little did Geb realise that the house was not in fact occupied by a cannibalistic witch, but rather an eccentric chocolate-maker named Willy, who had retired to live in the forest, and would have helped Geb escape in his magical glass elevator, had Geb decided to stop there.

Just then, the forest ends, and Geb stumbles out onto a highway. Right into the path of an oncoming Smart Car.

Geb: Aaaaaah!!

The tiny Smart Car smashes into Geb, crumpling up and wrecking entirely. Geb doesn't even fall down.

Geb: Huh. Should have seen that coming.

A semi drives by and Geb sticks out his thumb. The semi stops, and Geb hops in.

Meanwhile, back at the smoking ruins of the gingerbread house...

Nameless Lackey: The chocolate-maker didn't tell us anything, sir.

Tommy Lee Jones™: That's all right, son. Look at these tracks. They're headed north. What's north of here?

Nameless Lackey: The highway, sir.

Tommy Lee Jones™: Sunnuvagun, he's gonna try an' hitch a ride! Johnson, put out an APB on all semi-trailers in a fifty-mile radius!

Johnson: Yes sir!

Tommy Lee Jones™ (climbing into his helicopter): That boy is one clever fox, but this here hound's still got his scent. He won't get far!

Nameless Lackey: I'm sorry, were you talking to me sir?

Tommy Lee Jones™: No! Why would I do that? Pilot, let's go!

The helicopter takes off to a flourish of exciting music.

As Tracer the Writer is bolted into the broom closet, Geb brings the writers back to order.

Geb the Writer: What we need now is a way to close of this actor-ripoff business quick; do whatever you have to!

In the hero’s realm, Tommy Lee Jones[sup]TM[/sup] is suddenly surrounded by GIANT FLYING-ROBOT-ALIEN-ZOMBIE-CLONE-WERE-NINJAS!!![/u]…

GtW: …. Ok, I take it back, lets try and do this with a little dignity.

… Not zombies?

GtW: Try something a little less deus ex machina.

*Bangs, growls and broom noises come from the closet*

Sem TW: We could have him get distracted by a random natural disaster… what’s in season now? Earthquakes? Asteroids?

TLTETW: I like the law-enforcement bit he’s got going… it’s about time we had the heroes get back in line.

*The closet noises intensify*

GtW: No, guys, seriously, we need to cut this out before Tommy Lee Jones gets entrenched! I don’t want any established characters to be such shameless ripoffs. And what the hell is going on in there!?!

*GtW unbolts the closet and rips open the door to a terrible scene: A half-starved dust bunny cowers in the corner, glaring out furiously as Tracer TW beats it viciously. Half a dozen other dust bunnies are crammed into cages so small that their fuzz sticks out, growling at each other through the bars. Suddenly the office door is knocked down and various law enforcement officials stream into the room.*

Tommy Lee Jones (the Writer): Alright I want animal control in here to take care of those dust-bunnies within the hour. Seize everything; documents, equipment, it’s all evidence.

*Tracer TW is lead out in cuffs, and some of the officers try to get the loose dust bunny back in its cage*

Sem TW: Um… what the hell is going on?

Tommy Lee Jones [sup]TW[/sup]: Underground dust-bunny fighting ring. It makes me sick what these people do. We’ve been working on shutting it down for months. Poor half-starved things, probably have to be put down.

Well… I can’t say I saw that one coming.

GtW: You guys know I hate you, right?

From the dark depths rises something terrible...

Manevolent
Underhanded
Stagnant
Tag!

Where did the B.U.M.P. go?

You know... it kind of defeats the point of a bump to use it on the most recent non-sticky post. Even if it does fall off the default display, it's not like it's getting lost in volumes of unrelated junk posts. Just taking a little break. You know, for whatever forum threads do instead of take smoke breaks. Or in the case of NeS, doing whatever forum threads do instead of play Bingo. Or instead of getting colonoscopies/heart surgery. What I'm saying is that Uncle NeS is old. Maybe NeS needs a nap sometimes in the afternoon. Now get off NeS's lawn, you damn Punk kids, and count yourself lucky that you only have to walk to school uphill in the snow one way!

Meanwhile, inside the semi now moving down the sunrise-lit highway, Gebohq glances at his psuedo-chauffeur driving the vehicle. The driver is your stereotypical-looking heavy-set trucker -- the kind you find in stories where the writer is particularly unimaginative, and includes them with the intent to spotlight the main character and reach a wider (paying) audience.

Gebohq: "Hey, buddy. Thanks for giving me a ride."

driver: "Don't call me that."

Gebohq: "Huh? Sorry, it's just that--"

driver: "Call me by my first name. Mac."

Gebohq: "Mac? ...Mac Buddy."

Mac: "Yes."

Gebohq: "...oh...kay..."

Gebohq shrugs towards the audience.

Mac: "Who are you looking at?"

Gebohq: "What? Oh, nothing. Anyway, the name's Gebohq, and I could really use a lift to the-- actually, nevermind that for now. Can you give me a ride to the nearest donut shop?"

Mac: "Is a truck stop fine? I'd plan to stop at the one about twenty miles from here, and I believe they sell donuts there, if that's what you really want..."

Gebohq: "Yes, thanks!"

Mac: "So, what's your story?"

Gebohq: "Story? I don't get asked that often. Well, it's called the Never-ending Story Thread, and--well, Never-ending Story squared since after page 50, technically--"

Mac: "Woah there, guy! I didn't mean whatever book you're writing. I meant what brings you on the road? Why did you want me to give you a lift?"

Gebohq: "Oh, that. Well, uh, where to start..."

Just then, sirens blare from behind the semi. Mac takes notice, and as a law-abiding (if currently confused) citizen, pulls over. Gebohq is starting to sweat.

Mac: "I wonder what the police wants. I was driving in the speed limit..."

Geb: "Uh--look, I'm sorry..."

Mac: "For what? ...are they after you?"

Gebohq begins to pull out the NeSword. Mac, seeing a weapon drawn, holds his hands up.

Mac: "Oh God! I think I know who you are! You were on a TV -- you're a murderer, aren't you?"

Geb: "What? No."

Mac: "Then what are you sorry about...?"

Geb: "This."

--and knocks Mac unconscious with the hilt of his blade. Pocketing his blade back in his Economy-sized pockets, he crawls over Mac, opens the driver-side door, and drags Mac out on the concrete. By this time, the police are out of their cars, taking defensive positions and aiming their firearms at Gebohq.

police officer: "FREEZE!"

Gebohq darts his attention between all his possible "gebbing" directions (of which there are a lot), and dives back into the semi, evading the gunshots as only Gebohq can. He lifts the brake, shifts the gear out of neutral, and slams his foot down on the gas pedal.

HOLY COW, A CAR CHASE!

Gebohq: "Guh. This thing drives like a giant brick."

...

Gebohq: "Oh, right. Can I, uh...change the story so I'm driving a motocycle instead?"

No.

Gebohq: "Damn. Well, uh...er..."

Police cars pull up alongside both sides of the semi. Gebohq looks at them as they attempt to communicate with a loudspeaker.

Police: "We have a road block a mile ahead, Gebohq! Give up now, before you endanger any more lives!"

Gebohq: "Road block...?"

Gebohq looks ahead, and, sure enough, a line of police cruisers and cement walls have been placed across all the lanes. Convinient, how no one else is on the highway, huh?

Gebohq: "I got a better idea."

Uh-oh -- Gebohq is...accelerating?!?

Police driver: "$&*^! He's accelerating! *over radio* GET YOUR MEN OUT OF THERE! What's he thinking? Even a truck that size can't hope to barrel through a road block the size WE put up!"

Camera-cut to the road-block, showing at least three rows of police and other law-enforcement vehicles. How'd they all get there so quick? Shouldn't they be using different tactics with this sort of situation? Right right, I just tell it like it is...*sigh*.

Camera-cut back to Gebohq, still accelerating... he's at the point of no return. He then slams on the brake, pulling the emergency brake, and pulling out all the stops. The vehicle is stopping at an unnaturally quick speed, but it's still not enough, if he hopes to avoid collision. However, the camera zooms to a rather nasty-looking PLO--er--pothole, one that I'm not entirely sure was there just a moment ago. It's in such a shape and size and position as to stop the truck in its tracks.

It dips.

Then, in a beat, existance slows down to a crawl... and the entire back of the semi LIFTS into the air, pulling itself into a somersault OVER the police barricade.

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

In the world of the Writers...

all writers except for Geb the writer: "WHAT?!?!?!"

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

The semi sails over the barricade, and lands with a thunderous BOOM (miraculously, still in driving condition). The police stare dumb-founded as Gebohq drives off and away.

Police officer #4: "...to hell with this, I need some donuts."

The rest of the police, murmuring in agreement, start heading for the nearest donut vendor.

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

Back with the story-writers...

TLTE the writer: "What the hell? Did you just have Gebohq story-wield so that he could "geb" with the semi?

Geb the writer: "What if I did?"

Sem the writer: "A little too sensical, if you ask me. You should have had Geb cover the truck in a giant cardboard box, so he could sneak past them. Then they could have been all "What was that? Oh, just a box." You better do better next time, man."

Geb the writer: "...I'll keep that in mind."

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

Well, luck pulled you through once again, Gebohq.

Gebohq: "Luck had nothing to do with it! ...well, ok, maybe a little. Or a lot. Or everything to do with it. I'm just glad no one else is on the road."

Yeah, about that... there's a bumper-to-bumper traffic jam a couple miles ahead, with no exits before it.

Gebohq: "Insert explitive here?"

What now? Wouldn't you like to know? Find out, in the next installment of the Never-ending Story Thread Squared!

Gebohq: "Psst, hey, I don't remember what comes next in the script. Could you tell me?"

No, because there's nothing next in the script. This whole thing is some ninty-five percent improvisational.

Gebohq: "Oh, right. Help?"

*Gebohq grinds through all thirty-seven gears as he brings his truck to a halt in the traffic jam.*

Gebohq: Huh. Well, there's only way to clear these mean streets.

*Geb pumps his fist in the air.*

Gebohq: Autobots, roll out!

*The line of cars inches foreward. Undaunted, Geb picks up the CB radio transmitter and begins shouting into it.*

Gebohq: Hello, Optimus Prime? Are you in there?

Radio: What? Who is this?

Gebohq: Transformercize!

*Gebohq continues to search for the magic word that will change his humble stolen tractor-trailer into a death-dealing space robot.*

Back at the Haunted House of Heroes...

TLTE: Listen, something's been bugging me. I feel I have to get it out.

The Patriot: Ah-ha! I knew it! You were plotting an insidious communist uprising, but my mere physical presence forced it out of you!

The Patriot moves his star-and-stripe-clad form towards TLTE, a look of triumph on his face.

TLTE: You're right, I'm afraid. (Facing the others, in the manner of an aside) Look after Amal.

Cool Matty: What...?

TLTE: In fact, I have my sinister Communist manifesto on my person right now. It lays out in detail the nature of my conspiracy and how to subdue it in 10 easy steps. May I tender the document now and save us all a great deal of red tape? (Aside) The boy, mageling. If I don't come back, look after the boy.

The Patriot: Well, by all means!

His inner desires and impulses masterfully manipulated, The Patriot lowers his defenses for all of a moment and leans in close to TLTE. The Russian spy pulls an object out of his voluminous overcoat, but it is not a Communist manifesto. It is a USAS-12 combat shotgun.

Combat Shotgun: Blam! Blam! Blam!

The Patriot stands no chance against the fully automatic shotgun. The first salvo knocks him completely off balance and slams him into the wall. A bare moment later - just as the concussive force begins to subside - TLTE slides forward, virtually ramming the white-hot barrel into his foe's chest and firing again. The Patriot is launched clear through the wall and collapses into the courtyard below.

TLTE spins around, coat flapping in the wind that gusts in through the newly-created hole, shotgun resting on his shoulder; a pin-up for gun enthusiasts everywhere. The Heroes regard him with mixed amusement, shock, and to those who know him well, bland disinterest.

Antestarr: Was it absolutely necessary to kill our latest guest, TLTE?

TLTE: Kill him? He won't even be stunned, the smug Yankee pig-dog. (Pause) No offence, great NeSHeroes of American origin.

Antestarr: Well, there was hardly any reason to blast him out of the second story of a building. And ruin the decor of our headquarters.

TLTE: I'm afraid I did have to, Antestarr. I've been wrestling with the idea ever since the Patriot re-entered my life, but...I have to fight him. For the spilt blood of my clones-in-arms. For the hammer and sickle that will never rust or falter. And because the ******* is so obsessed with red tape. I mean, he tried to make me fill out a form in triplicate just to use the bathroom.

CM: Very well. If you insist on fighting him, we'll not abandon you!

The mage withdraws his staff, but is halted by a gesture.

TLTE: Look, help me if you want, but I don't advise it. Nothing we have on us will even make a scratch on him; his aim is perfect, and always fatal; and his recovery time is -

The Patriot leaps up from behind TLTE, crushes the muzzle of his shotgun, and pulls him back down into the courtyard below.

TLTE: (Faint) - amazing!

Granny Cal is still sitting at the kitchen table in the HHoH. There is a half-eaten ham sandwich in front of her. She is half asleep and muttering ...

Granny Cal: *softly and granny-like* That's nice, dear. Red Sox to win. No, no, will you put me down! *sounding more like Calilmalith* Leave me alone or I'll rip your arms off and stick them in your ...

Thrawn42689: Oh, there you are.

Granny Cal screams, stands up ,then sits right back down in her chair. Thrawn42689, dressed in business suit and trenchcoat, is leaning nonchalantly in the doorway, observing Granny Cal coolly.

Granny Cal: Goodness, what on earth do you think you're doing? You gave me such a fright.

Thrawn42689: I've come to take you away from here.

Granny Cal: Well, you won't get any argument from me. I'm as bored as a Junebug in July in this place. *stands and moves towards Thrawn42689* Where are you taking me?

Thrawn42689: That remains to be seen.

Granny Cal: OK, why are you taking me?

Thrawn42689: You will have to ask the writers that.

Granny Cal and Thrawn42689 simultaneously look upward, then slowly back to each other.

Granny Cal: I think I might skip that one. Come on, big boy, let's go.

She pushes past Thrawn42689 and as she does, she playfully pokes him in the stomach.

Granny Cal: Ow!! Boy, do you work out or what!

Thrawn42689: Actually, I'm a robot.

Granny Cal: A robot! Oh well, I've had worse. Come on, move it!

Thrawn42689: *firmly* Now just stop right there. There are some things we have to get straight.

Granny Cal turns to face him. She pulls herself a little taller and stares him in the eye.

Granny Cal: *not giving an inch* Yes?

Thrawn42689: Some ground rules. I am in charge. You will follow me. If I say do something, you will do it. If I say don't do something, you won't do it. Do I make myself clear?

Granny Cal: Perfectly. Are you done now?

Thrawn42689: *threateningly* You must obey me!

Granny Cal bursts out laughing. Thrawn42689 is taken aback. He looks somewhat disapproving and just a little confused.

Granny Cal: Sorry. OK, we'll play it your way. I'll obey you.

Granny Cal can't help herself - another small guffaw escapes. She looks at Thrawn42689 and smiles quite charmingly.

Granny Cal: Come on now.

She grabs his hand and hauls him out of the doorway.

Thrawn42689: *warmly - for Thrawn* Feisty little thing, aren't you? *under his breath* What have I let myself in for?

Granny Cal and Thrawn42689 exit the HHoH to places and adventures as yet unknown.

It is 9:00am in NeS, and Sugarless is sitting on a large flat rock in the forest near the HHoH. She is not quite herself today, being just a little sad and reflective. She is playing solitaire, eating a cheese sandwich, and singing.

Sugarless: *softly singing an old Beatle’s song* If I fell in love with you, would you promise to be true, and help me ..

Male voice: You have a beautiful singing voice.

Sugarless looks up with a start. Standing just five feet away is a young man. He is about six feet tall, with slightly ruffled light brown hair and blue-green eyes. He has a large nose but this gives him a studious look rather than detracting from his appearance. He is dressed in jeans, white shirt, red sneakers, and a navy blue duffle coat. He has a soft British accent with a hint of the Northern counties.

Sugarless: Who the hell are you?

Caspian: My name is Caspian … Caspian Sinclair. And you are?

He extends his hand toward Sugarless.

Sugarless: Sugarless … just Sugarless.

She extends her hand warily. They shake. Caspian’s handshake is firm and friendly. Sugarless feels the color creeping into her cheeks and pulls her hand back sharply.

Sugarless: Caspian? I’ve never heard that name before.

Caspian: Parents! What can I say? My father wanted to call me Caspar, and my mother wanted to call me Sebastian. So they compromised with Caspian.

Sugarless: *smiling* I’m sorry.

Caspian: Oh, it could have been worse. I might have been called Casbastian or Sebpar.

Sugarless: *laughing* You’re funny.

Caspian: Thank you. *pause* I wonder if you might tell me something.

Sugarless: What?

Caspian: Where in the world am I? One moment I was walking through the West End, next thing I’m walking through a forest with some of the oddest trees I’ve ever seen in my life.

Sugarless: Oh … oh, I know exactly how you feel. Something similar happened to me! I was …

Sugarless tells Caspian how she arrived in NeS … fell through a plothole …held captive … joined up with Antestarr … nearly run over by Otter … nearly died form eating wedding cake … and so on

Caspian: Gosh, but where did you say we were?

Sugarless: NeS. I’m not sure where it is nor am I entirely sure what it is. I think it is some kind of construct for venting the creative and not-so-creative ramblings of these entities calling themselves writers, who pride themselves on avoiding the traps and mediocrity of plot. But I could be wrong – I’m still finding my way around here.

Caspian is staring at Sugarless.

Caspian: For someone called Sugarless, you are very sweet.

Sugarless: *laughs* For someone called Caspian, you’re very unoriginal.

Caspian: Erm, quite.

They smile at each other.

Caspian: So what next?

Sugarless: I suppose I should introduce you to the others. The HHoH is just over there.

Caspian: The what?

Sugarless: *suddenly doubtful* Hmmm, on second thoughts, I think we should take the long way round.

Sugarless stands up and heads off in the opposite direction to the HHoH.

Caspian: Sorry, but didn’t you say it was over there?

Sugarless: *over her shoulder* We need to take a detour to get there.

Caspian: I see. *not really*

Caspian catches up to Sugarless.

Caspian: Heavens, where did that sunset come from?

For there is indeed a sunset, even though it was morning only half an hour ago.

Sugarless: One of the writers likes us, I guess.

And as they walk off into the sunset …

...they are momentarily stunned into stillness by a gigantic explosion nearby.

Caspian: What was that?

Sugarless: I don't know. Don't worry, someone probably blew someone else up.

Caspian: My God! That's horrible! We should try to help them!

Sugarless: No, no, that happens a lot in the NeS. Let's go for that stroll...

Caspian, doubtful, turns around -

And a black-clad figure tackles him to the ground. A torrent of shrapnel and debris scrapes over their shoulders.

Sugarless: Damn it, TLTE! You're ruining the moment!

The wild-eyed Russian spy leaps to his feet, helping Caspian up as he dusts him off.

TLTE: I apologise, comrade, but you must run - it's the Patriot!

Sugarless: The crazy American guy?

TLTE: He's coming for me, I can't stop him!

TLTE whips out a rocket-propelled grenade launcher and spins -

- as the Patriot charges into him with his brick-wall shoulder. TLTE is launched flying into the woods, his gun broken and useless.

The Patriot turns on his heel and evaluates Caspian, his cold eyes measuring the threat he poses.

Patriot: Are you a friend of that man?

Caspian: N-No.

Patriot: Communist sympathiser?

Caspian: No...

Patriot: Liberal bleeding-heart activist?

Caspian: No.

Patriot: Do you believe in truth?

Caspian: Uh, yes.

Patriot: Justice?

Caspian: Yes.

Patriot: And the American way?

Caspian: I guess so -

Patriot: Then Godspeed.

The Patriot takes off, bounding after his Russian nemesis. Caspian's handsome features are furrowed, and he looks shocked and confused. Sugarless finds this endlessly appealing.

Sugarless: How about that stroll?

In a clearing only (metres? feet? NeSlengths?) away from the previous location, Granny Cal and Thrawn42689 also hear the same gigantic explosion. They pause and turn toward the sound. There is silence, then the sound of someone running through the shrubbery. Thrawn42689's hand moves to inside his trenchcoat. Suddenly TLTE bursts into the clearing. Granny Cal calmly sticks out her foot and sends TLTE sprawling to the ground.

Granny Cal : And where do you think you're going?

Behind her, Thrawn42689 takes a gunslinger’s stance and smiles.

TLTE: Please, comrades ...

Thrawn42689: Well, well, TLTE ... so, at last ...

TLTE scrambles to his feet.

TLTE: Comrades, please, I don't have time. He's after me.

On cue, The Patriot appears.

The Patriot: I have you now, you commie pinko!

Granny Cal : *outraged* WHAT did you say?

Granny Cal steps forward. She punches The Patriot on the nose, really hard. There is a telltale cracking sound and The Patriot's nose begins to bleed profusely.

The Patriot: Oww! What the ...

Granny Cal : Don't you know the Cold War ended years ago, you ignorant fool!

The Patriot: *rallying* They're still the enemy. If they are not American, then they are the enemy!

Without warning, Granny Cal punches The Patriot in the stomach. He doubles over and she lands an uppercut to his chin. The Patriot flies backwards and lands flat on his back on the ground.

Granny Cal : It's people like you who give us quiet Americans a bad name.

Both TLTE and Thrawn42689 watch this display, stunned. Granny Cal turns to face them, smiling happily.

Granny Cal : That was fun!

Thrawn42689: Extraordinary.

TLTE: Comrade, you certainly don't beat around the bush, do you?

Granny Cal : Not if I can help it.

Thrawn42689: *admiringly* Absolutely extraordinary ...

TLTE and Granny Cal both look at him, surprised at his warmth and enthusiasm (for Thrawn, that is).

Thrawn42689: *backtracking* ... for a human, that is.

A bemused look passes between TLTE and Granny Cal.

TLTE: Well, thank you, my sister, brother. I hope we meet again soon.

Granny Cal : You're not staying?

TLTE: I have pressing business to attend to.

Granny Cal : Pity, we could have put a bit of life into the place.

TLTE leans forward and gives her a peck on the cheek.

TLTE: May we meet again soon.

He runs off. Thrawn42689 is leaning against a tree, arms crossed over his chest, one leg crossed over the other, staring at Granny Cal.

Thrawn42689: Quite extraordinary.

Granny Cal : *blushing a little* Stop that. You're beginning to sound like a broken record. Put a sock in it, dear.

Thrawn42689: Whatever you say. Shall we continue on?

Granny Cal : Best idea you've had since we met.

Thrawn42689 extends his arm, elbow bent toward Granny Cal. She loops her hand through his arm and together they wander off.

Granny Cal : What a lovely sunset! Wasn't it morning only a few minutes ago?

Back in the clearing, a prone and bloody-faced figure stirs ...

The Patriot: *regaining consciousness* But ... but .. I'm The Patriot!

He stares around wild-eyed, confused, then sinks back into oblivion.

Some time later, the Patriot regains consciousness, and sees that he is held prisoner in the Haunted House of Heroes' basement jail cell -- the one that he and most of the hero-types were trapped in just a couple pages ago. Sitting just outside his cell is The Last True Evil -- he is examining one of The Patriot's revolvers. The Patriot then notices that he has been disarmed of his weapons. Without hesitation, The Patriot stands up and charges towards the mostly clear, reinforced barrier between him and The Last True Evil. Surprisingly (for him), he does not break through. He tries again and again, with no luck. As he continues to test the strength of the other walls, The Last True Evil looks up.

TLTE: "Ah, you're up. I was starting to worry that the old woman had knocked you out for good."

The Last True Evil sighs as The Patriot continues to try and break free.

TLTE: "If this prison were anything less than inescapable, do you think I would have put you in here?"

The Patriot: "I've gotten out of worse."

The Patriot attempts to use some sort of teleportation device, with no luck.

TLTE: "Yes, yes, and saved a bus full of orphans at the same time -- I know."

The Patriot hits his head against the wall in fustration. He lies standing, against the wall.

The Patriot: "How was I so easily knocked out by that old woman...?"

TLTE: "You may be one of the strongest and toughest, but as I've discovered with these people, that means little. These sort of things happen in the NeS all the time."

The Patriot: "What nonsense are you talking about again? En-ee-ess? Is that a new, underground KGB branch?"

TLTE: "Ha! No. The NeS is the Never-ending Story -- the story that you and I are a part of, a story that started with Gebohq and a comet and The Arena. Surely you must know something about it through your great American Intelligence."

The Patriot: "You can't expect me to follow up on every single trivial matter. Lots of people claim to be in all sorts of different "stories" as if the world revolved around them. So you think that life is this "Never-ending Story" of that two-bit professional hero's? Guybook, was it? I think perhaps the years have taken their toll on you, Russian."

TLTE: "Got a better explination for how you were at the mercy of an old woman?"

The Patriot turns his back to The Last True Evil.

TLTE: "Right. Speaking of you being at the mercy of someone else, there's the matter of what I should do with you..."

The Patriot: "Why didn't you kill me when you had the chance?"

TLTE: "Kill you? Hahaha, you are too funny, American! For one, old habits die hard. You know, what with villains never taking the easy kill and blah blah blah... But seriously, I would need several tactical nuclear warheads, if I were to even think about trying to kill you. Then again, I wonder..."

The Last True Evil draws out a particular six-shot revolver from within his coat. He then pulls a single bullet from his pants pocket.

The Patriot: "Are you serious? I think the years maybe really have taken their toll on you.

TLTE: "Perhaps you've heard of an old national past-time of ours called "Russian Roulette?" Well, I've never really been a fan of it myself, but I do have a particular technique -- and this gun -- that pays homage to the Motherland's dangerous fortune. I place a single bullet in the chamber, like so..."

The bulllet is placed in one of the revolver's chambers.

TLTE: "...and then I give it a spin."

The Last True Evil smacks the cylinder spinning, then flicks the cylinder into place.

TLTE: "I won't bore you with the details, but it deals with certain story conventions... something you probably wouldn't care to understand. The short is that, if by chance that one shot fires, it could very well kill just about anyone, even you, I believe."

The Patriot: "Sounds like a bunch of nonsense to me."

TLTE: "Are you willing to stake your life on it? You and me, one final duel... what do you say, my old American rival?"

The Last True Evil pulls out a ring of keys, and prepares to open the prison cell...and stops.

TLTE: "On second thought, maybe I should just leave you in here."

The Patriot: "And risk the wrath of my fellow team-members? They will arrive to investigate, if they do not hear from me soon."

TLTE: "Hrm... I think this is an appropriate time for a cliffhanger decision."

The Patriot: "What?"

Meanwhile, back with Gebohq stuck in traffic...

Gebohq: "Come on! What do I have to do to get this thing to transform?"

The speakers appear to come to life and speak to Gebohq.

Voice: "I don't appreciate being demanded at, or being called "it" for that matter."

Gebohq: "HOLY COW! Who's there?"

Voice: "Peter."

Gebohq: "Where are you?"

Voice: "I'm the truck, stupid."

Gebohq: "Wow, looks like the original name runs in the business."

Peter-built truck: "What?"

Gebohq: "Nevermind... so would you mind transforming into something, so we can get around this traffic? The cops are going to catch up eventually, and I'd rather not go to jail."

Peter: "First off, if I were to transform, you'd likely be crushed in the process. Second off... I can't transform."

Gebohq: "I hate giant robots."

Peter: "You want me to turn off the engine and let the cops get you?"

Gebohq: "I LOVE giant robots."

Peter: "That's better. Now I may not be able to transform, but I do have a means of getting you past this traffic."

Gebohq: "You do?"

Peter: "Yes. I hope you like flying."

Gebohq: "You can fly?"

The roof opens up.

Peter: "Nope. Have a safe flight!"

And the seat springs upwards, sending Gebohq flying out of the vehicle, off the highway.

Gebohq: "AIEEEE!!!"

Gebohq tumbles, dazed but not too worse for the wear (because no matter how far you fall, you will never die, unless it is a "bottomless" pit, in which case, the boredom kills you). When he collects himself together, however, Gebohq notices that he is surrounded by five beefy men, half-accountant types, half-Conan rip-offs, wielding strangely axe-shaped laptops and briefcases.

Gebohq: "Are you good guys, by chance?"

Man #1: "We are barbarian bureaucrats, and we're going to charge you with our BATTLE TAXES!"

Gebohq: "When will the pain end?"

When WILL Gebohq's pain end? Probably never, but stick around for the next installment of The Never-ending Story Squared!

Gebohq: "Could you be just a little more helpful?"

No.

As Geb looks about in a panic for a place to flee, suddenly the Barbarians break the circle and form ranks in front of him. Hordes of barbarians stream out of nowhere and soon a forest of Battletaxes gleams before him in the light of a million PDAs.

Instinctively Geb turns to run, but finds himself faced on the other side by a line of 300 IRS lawyers, arrayed with briefcase shields and old-style pointer-sticks, banners and cloaks of red-tape caught high in the wind.



Barbarian #5: Taxmen, withdraw! You are clearly outnumbered, and Mister Ohq has just been declared a Canadian citizen, placing him under our jurisdiction.

Taxman #1: Pah! You forget that we are nameless, monodimensional characters. The Inverse Ninja Law clearly indicates that we have the advantage!

Barbarian #3: Not-so! Barbarians have many deep character features. Krig, for example crochets on the weekends.

Taxman #1: That doesn’t count! He’s a hero, with full named status. You can’t claim him just because he’s a barbarian. You all aren’t even Vikings!

Barbarian #3: We shall see…

Barbarian #421337: If we get out of this alive, I’m going to take up bottle-ship building….

Barbarian #133742: I always wanted to be named Thog…

In the midst of the argument, Gebohq tries to slip away unnoticed, however as he reaches the end of the ranks, Tommy Lee Jones establishes a perimeter between the two forces where Geb was about to escape, filling it with a dozen MIBs and Federal Marshals.

TLJ, into a handset radio: We’ve got him cut off here, he’s got nowhere to run. Move your people in around back.

Turning heel and desperately bolting away from the encroaching armies, Geb nears the last opening in the forming battle lines, only to be stopped by a fourth force; wave on wave of accountants, as far as the eye could see.

Taxman #1: Are they crazy? They’ll be slaughtered!

Accountant #1: Not if instead of fighting as an army we elect one super champion to fight for all of us, on the insecure but perpetually honored promise that the one fight will automatically determine the whole battle.

Barbarian #2: Why didn’t we think of that? It’s Brilliant!

Barbarian #4: #1, quick! Think of a name!

Barbarian #1: Susannah.

Barbarian #4: Ok that’s your name now, Susannah. Get out there and fight!

Susannah: Fuq.

Accountant #1: Who is it who dares to face… CONAN: The LIBRARIAN[/b][/u]!?!?

Gebohq: I can’t help but feel that this has gotten a little out of hand.

Sem: What? You’ll be fine, you just have to wait it out while they all kill each-other. Now put on your ring of invisibility.

Geb: What ring of invisibility? Also where the hell did you come from?

Sem: The ring you got from the seemingly inane, but plot-critical side quest that you went on, come on you know how this goes.

In a flash Sem disappears, and a ring appears in his place. It has a note tied to it.

Geb: “You’re wielding the story, moron.”

Now put it on….

Geb: *puts on the ring and disappears*

Just as the two champions, who had long since stopped paying attention to Geb anyway, met midfield a fleet of private jets screamed overhead.

Geb *waving and pointing wildly*: It’s the Apples! It’s the Apples!

The jets proceeded to let forth a flood of I-phones, one of which knocks the invisible Geb unconscious. The arrayed ranks of nerds, suddenly factioned by a deep loathing of Steve Jobs and a passionate love of combination-miniature technology immediately descend into bloody chaos. The battle rages, man and microchip alike shattered and cast to the ground in waves inversely proportional to their preceding dialogue volume.

What will happen next? How will the battle end? Will Geb survive? Does anyone who hasn’t read this book actually visit these forums? Find out soon in the upcoming epic trilogy!

Ford, Maybechild, Ahnuld, and Mustang sprint through the woods, lost and fearful, as seen by the shakey camera...

Maybe: "Why couldn't we just call a tow and taxi service when the van inexplicably broke down again?"

Ford: "We're becoming one of the Forgotten, Maybechild. The Avatar of Loss is hunting us down. Must keep moving, must keep the drama up..."

Maybe: "That crap again? I can't believe you all are getting worked up about that nonsense!"

Mustang: "If you don't believe us, why are you running with us?"

Maybe: "Because Ahnuld is, and he has my purse! GIVE IT BACK!"

Ahnuld: "Uh..."

Ford: "Don't give it to her until I tell you to, Ahnuld!"

Maybe: "What the hell? FORD! Tell the governor to give it back!"

Ford: "Trust me, Maybe, your life depends on running right now. You'll thank me later."

Maybe: I'll kill you NOW!"

Ford: "Aieeeee! Mustang, talk some sense into this woman!"

Ford stops, and looks around.

Ford: "Mustang?"

Ford is promptly tackled and strangled by Maybechild.

Maybe: "Tell--him--to--give--me--back--my--purse--!"

Ford: "Urk...stop....stop..."

Maybechild jumps off of Ford.

Maybe: "Well?"

Ford: "Where did Mustang go?"

Maybe: "What?"

Ford: "He was with us, but now he's gone. Where is Mustang?"

Ford, Maybechild, and Ahnuld look around, but fail to see Mustang. An eerie silence rises from the group. Maybechild takes advantage of the paralysis instilled in the others by the horror convention and yoinks her purse back from Ahnuld. She then becomes concerned herself as the silence continues.

Maybe: "Uh...Ford?"

Ford: "We need to move."

As Ford makes to move again, he trips over a B.U.M.P.!

Ford: "GAH! Stupid thing! It's as if--"

Realization strikes Ford and leaves him for dead. Eventually, he gets back up, knowing what could be happening...

Ford: "We need to get to something, anything! We M.U.S.T.!"

Maybe: "Oy..."

SNAP!

The sound blasts through the silence.
Ford and Maybechild flinch
and creepy chords gently crecendo in
providing a foreboding ambience to the woods.


Ford: "Did any of you just step on a twig?"
Ahnuld: "Uh, Sorry."


Maybchild lets out a sigh of relief.

The music subsides.



SNAP



Maybe: "Mustang?"



The music starts in again.




Ford: "Move!"

The scene goes into a motion sickness inducing blur and series of sounds including heaving panicked breathing, branches snapping, leaves getting trampled underfoot and squeeky clown shoes.


Ahnuld: "It's a Giraffe!"
Maybe: "It's getting closer!"
Ford: "Keep running!"