Back at the shack...

Antestarr: Do you mind? We're having an intervention here.

lone figure: But this is my shack! And you didn't answer my questions!

Antestarr sighs. Gebohq and Rachel take the opportunity to make out shamelessly.

Antestarr: I'm Antestarr. Those two on the couch are Gebohq and Rachel...

Gebohq: SMOOCH-MWAH-AWL-NOM...

Rachel: MWAH-NOM-SMOOCH-AWL...

Antestarr: ...and we're trying to break them up to save existence as we know it. The others are Soriel...

Soriel: Die.

Antestarr: ...Ford...

Ford: If this is your place, maybe you know where the bathroom is?

Antestarr: ...Semievil...

Semievil: ...zzz--Huh? Whut? Is the story-arc over yet?

Antestarr: ...and Voodoosnowflakes.

Voodoosnowflakes: Sorry about all this.

Antestarr: Also, we've got enough 'lone figure' types as it is, so beat it.

lone figure: ...what?

Just then, the plot-hole sheds its disguise to reveal another possessed toaster, which begins to power up its death ray.

lone figure: Hey, you guys brought a toaster! I can finally toast my bread now!

As the possessed toaster is about to fire, the lone figure shoves some slices of bread in it and pushes down the lever.

possessed toaster: ...toasting in progress. Mrrrrr.....

Antestarr: Mother of pearl! Hours of progress lost! Now we have to start all over again with this intervention.

Gebohq: OM-MWAH-NOM-SLURP...

Rachel: MWAH-LICK-SMOOCH...

lone figure: But...gah! GET OUT! ALL OF YOU!

Soriel: Or what?

lone figure: Or...uh...

Will the lone figure find a way to get our protagonists out of his shack? Does the lone figure have a name? *coughhinthintcough* Will the possessed toaster kill Gebohq after perfectly toasting the bread? Find out in the next installment of The Never-ending Story Thread Squared!

lone figure: So wait, I didn't need to pay for my own narrator? Fuq.

Just then, another spam-ad pierced onto a random part of the NeS, which read:

In the Writer's Realm... (why am I calling it a "realm" anyway?)...

TLTE the writer: There sure has been a lot of spam recently. Perhaps we should switch over to a new service provider?

Sem the writer: Like hell! That'd require actually writing for the story so that we could pay for the service. Now if there was some service that made writing more like MoM...

TLTE the writer: What's your mother have to do with service providers for writing?

Sem the writer: More than it should, actually, but that's not what I was talking about. I'm referring to Macrocosm of Martialcraft, known as MoM. It's the biggest massive multiplayer online role-playing game and its a big-letter-little-letter-big-letter acronym that's certainly a lot more fun than NeS.

TLTE the writer: So that's where everyone's been?

Sem the writer: Well I don't know about everybody. I think Geb's still brooding in his cubicle.

TLTE the writer: I see. I think I'll have to take it upon myself to look for a solution to all this...

Sem the writer: Whatever floats your boat.

Semievil the writer begins walking out of the room.

Sem the writer: Just quit trying to make NeS a Pulitzer-prize w--OW!

Sem the writer glares at the heavy book that inadvertently fell from a shelf above him.

Sem the writer: That's gonna leave a B.U.M.P....

Lone Figure: Where were we before the spam inter... wait where am I?

Sorry Lone Figure, we're taking you out of the thread

Lone Figure: What, why?

No one cares about you anymore, you were just a useful plot device a few posts up

Lone Figure: But but, I still have more to say, I still have a part left to play!

Uh.. no.. you are the weakest link

Lone Figure: Are you sure?

Yes... I mean if you had a NAME maybe someone would care but you don't

Lone Figure: but I DO have a name

Prove it

Lone Figure: my name is Lone Figure, look whoose speaking you ****, YOUR the one without the name

I'm the generic narrator that controls your fate.. do you really want to annoy me by saying I don't have a name

Lone Figure: But if you can get away with it, why can't I with the name I already have?

Because nobody cares

Lone Figure: Fine call me Fone Ligure

Funny... no

Lone Figure: Well... can we change where we areif I get a name?

What are you talking about?

Lone Figure: Well I HAVE a name.. it just doesn't fit this situaion

Let me get this straight.. your just not where you should be, and if you were you would have a name?

Lone Figure: Yeah.. uhh.. that sounds right.. exactly right!

Well then where SHOULD you be.. we've been screwing with enough stuff by now why not this?

Lone Figure: Yeah that's the spirit! So umm yeah.. I'm a really complex character and all, so you should put me where we can explre them all

Right... what's so special again?

Lone Figure: Well I've never really told anyone before... but..

Spit it out alreay

Lone Figre: (looks around makes sure no ones around, only sees black, shrugs) I LIKE CHIKIN!

You spelled chicken wrong

Lone Figure: Not chicken, Chikin

Ummm right... chikin

Lone Figure: So I can have this shack be a Chikin place?

You already do

Lone Figure: No I don't I have a ramshackle shack that a bunch of rude people invaded

No you have, oh why am I arguing with you... wait, your trying to distract me, NAME now

Lone Figure: (smugly) look in front of the shop

It says Crispy Chikin

Lone Figure: noooooo it doesn't

Umm yes it really does, seeing as I made it and all

Lone Figure: No it says Cris B Chikin!

It reallly doesn't

Lone Figure: Yes it does

No, it says Cris B Chik... ahh crap, I guess it does

Lone Fig err Cris: See I told you

And that makes your name Cris

Cris: Yep! Cris Bokkeldphor.. err Bokenheimer... Biple.. Oh
I don't know, how bout just Cris

Right, can I go now?

Cris: Your the one who came in the first place

Right, sure, whatever Cris of Cris B Chikin, get back to your resturant, que lights, camera and action

Soriel: I asked or, hey where are we?

Cris: I'll get those GenericChikinStrips for you all right away

Soriel: Umm.. ok

Gebohq: SMOOCH MWAHP

Rachel: NYICK AH
Ok right, you get the idea, their kissing.. and kissing.. and kissing, and MAN is this boring come on something has got to happen

Generic bystander #358.7: AHHHHHHHHHHHH HELP

Gebohq: (wakes up from smooching) what bad things happening? That sounds like a job for a hero

Rachel: Oh my, my great wonderful exciting (this continues on for awhile, you get the idea) amazingly talented man. Come back to me soon, and don't spoil your appetite with donuts or anything.

Gebohq: That was oddly specific dear, but, ok. Now off to stop trouble! (herocially rushes out of Cris B Chikin)

And now for a word from out Sponsor, what it means I don't have to come up with elaborate cool ways of making people get from one place to another

DO YOU LIKE CHIKIN?????
Then come to CRIS B CHIKIN!!
and get CHIKIN

CHIKIN!
CHIIIIIIIIIIIKIN

Now back to our regularly scheduled program, having just blantly plugged newly added random character. Right anyway

Gebohq: I have arrived!

Generic bystander #583920173.483: who are you?

Gebohq: The hero that was called to action by a generic bystander yelling help

Generic bystander #583920173.483: Oh that explains everything perfectly. Are you sure he wasn't just calling wolf?

Gebohq: right wolves, I know I have something for those...

Generic bystander #583920173.483: no you idiot I mean lying.

Gebohq: he wouldn't be in the story if he wasn't?

Generic bystander #583920173.483: That was actually rather intellegent remark, I'm surprised. Right, he might have been scared by the fire over there

Gebohq: isn't that more of a Firefighter type of thing?

Generic bystander #583920173.483: YOUR the hero, shouldn't you be telling me what you do?

Gebohq: oh right, well I guess I should go help out then
Meanwhile back at the Chikin place

Cris: Your chikin is here!

Back to our hero Geb, who just finished helping the firefighters put out the fighter

Gebohq: Remember kids, you to can prevent (opps wrong thing)

Store owner: Thank you so very much please enjoy a donunt from me!

Gebohq: ummmm

What will Geb do, eat the donnt, but what will happen with rachel then? Tune in for the next exiting installment of

The Neverending Story!

The Realm of Writers;


Britt the Writer: j00.

Gebohq the Writer: Oi.

Britt the Writer: Where the hell did you get that crown from?

Gebohq the Writer: Well, this is a realm, you know?

Britt the Writer: ...

Gebohq the Writer: The arcade. Won it in one of those machines... with the arm. And toys inside...

Britt the Writer: Oooooh. One of those machines... with the arm. And toys inside...

Gebohq the Writer: Yeah, that's the one.

Another of the writers wanders into Gebohq's 'office'.

Crisp Llama the Writer: Heya.

Britt the Writer: j00.

Gebohq the Writer: Oi.

Crisp Llama the Writer: Oh hey! Did you win that out of one of those machines... with the arm. And toys inside... ?

Gebohq the Writer: Who told you that!? Don't make me silence you!

Crisp Llama the Writer: With the royal guards?

Gebohq the Writer: That'd be the one!

Crisp Llama the Writer: They just went off for some chikin. Read my post, you see. Got 'em hungry.

Gebohq the Writer: Dammit! And I went and loaned my ninja assassins to Semievil the Writer!

Britt the Writer: ... You sure that was a good idea?

Gebohq shrugged haphazardly as an ominous shadow appeared behind Crisp Llama the Writer.

Crisp Llama the Writer: GAH!

Britt the Writer: j00

Gebohq the Writer: Oi.

Antestarr the Writer: Hey, just come back with some chikin for everyone. Saw your royal guards there too, by the way.

Antestarr hands out chikin to each of the writers before sitting down on the chair opposite Gebohq the Writer, putting his feet up on his desk.

Gebohq the Writer: OFF WITH HIS HEAD!!!

Britt the Writer: Maybe we should get you a sword as well? Hum. The Master Sword!!

Gebohq the Writer: That'd probably be copyright infringement or something.

Britt the Writer: The... Not-Quite-A-Master Sword But-Still-Just-As-Good Sword?

Gebohq the Writer: That'll do. Make it so.

Antestarr the Writer: That's from Star Trek not... king talk.

Gebohq the Writer: BAH! Britt's from the land of Angles. Does the King of Angles say that?

Britt the Writer: I dunno about the King of Angles but-

Gebohq the Writer: And there you have it, only I am educated in the ways of Kings! Even the King of Angles subject here doesn't know- ... Wait. Are you a spy!? OFF WITH HI-

Royal Guard #1: We're back! ~

Royal Guard #2: And we got chikin!! ~

The two Royal Guards enter the office wearing pink uniforms with plenty of lace and frills, as camp as Butlins.

Crisp Llama the Writer: We already have chikin.

Antestarr the Writer: I think we should move on... He appears more than a little concerned.


* * *


Our heroes, minus Gebohq, find that what they thought was an old, ramshackle shack was, in fact, some stylised, badly spelt, chikin restaurant.

Antestarr: At least with Gebohq gone, the fabric of the NeS should remain a little more stable for the time being...

Ford: So, you reckon that the NeS is going to be destroyed if Rachel and Gebohq's relationship continues?

Antestarr: It will.

Ford: Right. That's why you tried to kill her?

Antestarr: Of course.

Ford: Nice. You could have been smarter about it though.

Antestarr: What? The scowl on his face could have killed innocents.

Ford: Nice line!

Cheers.

Antestarr: Get on with it! The venom in his voice could have melted a rock.

Ford: Great stuff!

Ta!

Antestarr: ... The rage in his mind could have made an angel weep.

Ford: It just gets better...

Antestarr: Oh for fu-!

Voodoo Snowflakes: Wasn't there an evil toaster around here somewhere?

Cris: If you mean that new one, I've set it to work toasting burger buns.

A glance at the rear of the restaurant revealed the sinister toaster from the future to be happily sending out bun after bun, a random member of staff happy to have the extra help.

Voodoo Snowflakes: Okay. One problem gone. Second. What do we do about these... holes?

Antestarr: Kill the girl. He looked at Ford with evil- For Christ's sake!! Okay, okay. He glared at Ford. Happy? Very.

Ford: Yeah, or we could just make them fall out of love. Less mess. Everyone gets on with their lives.

Soriel: Bah! I prefer his idea.

Antestarr: So do I.

Ford: No, no. Seriously. Just think about it. Everyone lives and everything is hunky-dory.

Voodoo Snowflakes: Hunky-dory? What the crap?

Semievil: So, someone should try and make Rachel fall in love with them.

Ford: Holy sh-! Are you always that quiet!?

Semievil: I don't feel the need to rabbit on like everyone else. I speak when I need to.

Voodoo Snowflakes: Funny, because even then people tell you to shut up.

Semievil suddenly appeared very hurt and upset, his wrinkled forehead creasing further still and his little grey-skinned head lowered pitifully to the ground.

Voodoo Snowflakes: Uh. Just an observation, you know? Not that I'd tell you to shut up...

Antestarr: I will. Shut up!

Semievil turned and slowly trod away from the group and sat at one of the tables, watching a carton of cola that he'd bought moments ago from Cris. Sad violin music plays somewhere above him and his own personal raincloud pours a drizzle of rain down upon him to hide his emotional tears of sorrow.

Ford: That was weird and kinda out of character.

Antestarr: If you're going to act out this plan then just do it already.

Ford: Me? I'm not going to be held accountable if-. Uh, I mean, I'm spoken for.

Voodoo Snowflakes: You are?

Ford: Don't sound so surprised!

Voodoo Snowflakes: I am!

Ford: Cheeky-! Well, whatever. Someone else has to do it.

Fred, Teh Uber Blade: Here's our chance!!

Soriel: Silence blade! I shall not sully myself for your sake!

Antestarr stared at Soriel with severe concern on his face, much like his writer had done earlier.

Voodoo Snowflakes: Don't worry about it. He just talks to his sword.

Antestarr: Right. Either way, I won't be a part of this ridiculous plan. Count me out.

Ford looked at Voodoo with a glint of hope in his eyes.

Voodoo Snowflakes: I'm taken too.

Everyone turns around to look at the sad, lonely Semievil, who was still staring at his cola as though it were his only friend in the world. They each turn back to one another as though pleading for another option.

???: I will!!

Voodoo Snowflakes: Who the hell?

Sugarless: Hullo! ^_^

Voodoo Snowflakes: Oh no, not you. Of all people.

Without further explanation as to where she'd been all this time, or how she joined them, or whether she even understood what was being asked of her, she marched over to Rachel with an air of confidence and glee.

Soriel: No, woman! You'll ruin every-!

Fred, Teh Uber Blade: No! Quiet! You might learn something!

Soriel: What? About lesbians?

Fred, Teh Uber Blade: Lesbians, are the meaning of life Sor-ster!

Soriel: I told you not to call me that...

Each of the small gathering seemed to hold their breath in a long gasp as Sugarless leant over before the alone and vulnerable Rachel, placed her delicate hands upon the asian girl's cheeks and drew her into a hot, passionate kiss...


* * *

Meanwhile!

Fireman: Hey! Somebody say there was a fire?

Gebohq: Nah, already done it. The hero of the NeS happily munched on the jam-filled doughnut with a content expression on his face.

Fireman: But I see some hot stuff right here! The fireman suddenly unbuttoned his fireman's jacket to reveal a well-oiled torso with muscles upon muscles. He approached Gebohq with a look of intense desire. I come, courtesy of a guy named Ford; with all his love. The fireman traced a finger along Gebohq's jaw line, where the hero was hastily eating the last of his doughnut with the sudden desire to leave.

Store Owner: But wait, mister Gebohq! We have so many more doughnuts for you to try! He revealed a tray full of sparkling doughnuts that appeared as though they had been blessed with heavenly goodness. Torn between heavenly doughnuts and escape from the well-oiled fireman, Gebohq hesitated...


* * *


Gebohq the Writer: Okay, let's edit that part out...

Crisp Llama the Writer: But have more of the lesbian scene in...

Britt the Writer: You're... chopping up my post! He then wept, along with Semievil the Writer who had been depressed by the loneliness of his own character.

Lunchtime. TLTE sits in the break room at a fast food restaurant, his place of employment, playing absently with the remains of a half-decent burger value meal. Dejectedly, he pulls his complementary toy out of its wrapping, a miniature truck.

TLTE: Amal would love this. If only he were here...

Amal: Hi there, Tee-El-Tee-Ee!

TLTE recoils in shock. The young boy is sitting across from him, smiling cheerfully, looking older and more dashing than ever. At a rough guess, the casual observer would think him to be an eighteen year old adolescent with a shock of long hair and an easy grin.

TLTE: Amal! What are you doing here?

Amal: I wanted to see you again. I'm not doing much, and there's a lot of strange things happening...

TLTE thinks of his mutinous arms, and his growing appetite for destruction.

TLTE: You don't say.

Amal: The lady - Losien - misses you. She's a nice lady, and I think you should go find her.

TLTE: How do you know she misses me?

Amal: I read it.

TLTE's brow furrows. A thought passes slowly through his mind.

TLTE: You read what exactly?

Amal: I can read the world. I see words that no one else can see. I read that your brow furrowed just then, and that a thought passed slowly through your mind. I can read everything - except for my uncle's thoughts. His words are strange, old...I can't understand them.

And then Amal puts his hand on TLTE's arm, a gesture of familiarity and warmth. As he does so - instantly, and urgently - all of TLTE's evil thoughts are purged from his mind. A visible weight around his soul eases.

Amal: Can I stay with you, Tee-El? I feel like I'm meant to be around you, ever since you saved me from my uncle's room.

TLTE smiles, feeling the muscles in his face scream in protest at the unfamiliar movement.

TLTE: Amal...I think you're the one who will be saving me.

He stands up, tearing off the gaudy fast food uniform.

TLTE: Now, let's go find her.

Amal: Losien?

TLTE: Losien.

(NSN: Slowly, I draw stuff to a close. Let's see how part one turns out here...)

Back in the world of the NeS writers...

Britt the writer: How the hell do we have our own narration? Last I checked, this was the real world.

Voodoo the writer: There there, best not to think about those things, or else the realization might arise how insane we all really are.

Britt the writer: What?

Sem the writer: As long as I don't have to pay for it, there could be narration about me taking a piss for all I care.

Voodoo the writer: Please God, I hope that never happens.

TLTE the writer: Hey everybody, I--

Sem the writer: GAH! Where did you come from?

TLTE the writer: Uh, over by the door, where most people enter in this room?

Sem the writer: Right in plain sight! And here I thought my ventilation entrance couldn't be beat for sneakiness.

Britt the writer: But everybody on the floor heard you.

Sem the writer: Exactly!

Britt the writer: But...mweh...?

TLTE the writer: Someone get him the stress ball, and get everyone else in here. I have an announcement!

Cue swipe to the world of the NeS. Specifically, to a classroom of kindergarten children, all of whom are busy with their toys at the moment. Losien, their teacher, is sitting by one of the children and playing Connect Four with him when an older woman walks up to Losien.

older woman: Miss Ohq?

Losien: Actually, that's Miss Simon. I've been trying to get Ohq off the paperwork for years...

older woman: Excuse me?

Losien: Nevermind. Can I help you?

older woman: May I see you outside for a moment?

Losien frowns, turns to the child she was with, and smiles.

Losien: I'll be back, OK?

The child nods and quickly turns his attention elsewhere. Losien stands up and walks with the older woman towards the door, stopping awkwardly with the older woman as she stops short of exiting the room.

older woman: You've been a wonderful substitute, Miss Ohq, but the board wanted me to tell you that they can't keep you on staff.

Losien: Did I do something wrong?

older woman: It seems one of the children's parents were displeased when you gave their child a time out.

Losien: James? But he was acting mean to the other children... and the school policy is very clear about classroom conduct...

older woman: I'm sorry, dear, but the parents are claiming that the No Child Left Behind law is being violated, and I have to serve as the thinly-veiled excuse of a character who's in the story solely to promote a political agenda on the writer's behalf and provide some attempt at depth for your character at the same time.

Losien: I'm sorry?

older woman: Don't be, dear. Just be glad you're still good-looking enough to be a main character. I know I wouldn't be teaching these brats if I was still good-looking enough to be one. Make the most of it while it lasts.

Losien looks down as the older woman walks away.

Losien: But--

older woman: You can pick up your check at the front office.

Scene swipe to a bar so stereotypical that even the thought of trying to describe it makes my head hurt. On the serving side of the bar is Ricky, who is pouring a shot of tequila for the Otter, who is sitting on the other side of the bar. Not surprisingly, the Otter takes the bottle of tequila from Ricky's hands and begins to chug it. Sighing, Ricky reaches to remove the shot of tequila from the bar, but is stopped by another, more feminine hand.

Maybechild: I'll take that.

Otter: Maybe? I dih'hnt think I'd seh YEW uhround 'ere.

Maybe: And I didn't think I'd see you around here either. I thought you were trying to quit.

Otter: HA! Bloody 'ell, whut wuz I thinkin', right?

The Otter wraps an arm around Maybechild carelessly.

Otter: Uhps, oh Otter, you've gun done it again! Whunna smack me fer old times, May?

Maybe: You know what? I think I'll pass this time.

Otter: Whut now? Oh please, dun't hurt me f'real! I din mean nuthin' by it, I swear!

The Otter begins pulling his arm away, but Maybechild holds his arm reassuringly.

Maybe: Hey now, have I really been that mean to you all this time? I'm sorry. I suppose I've never treated you fairly, have I?

Otter: You've, uh, trea'ed me well inuff...

Maybe: No, I haven't. And now we've all received our just desserts, left behind to rot when things got rough. It's a testament to our character that we're still here, though -- ain't that right, Ricky?

Ricky: Uh.... >.>

Maybe: Well I think it is, and one day, we're going to set things straight with all the **** that Geb and the others have thrown at us. I'd like to propose a toast.

Maybechild picks up the shot of tequila and raises it to the Otter's bottle.

Maybe: To the future, and to not giving a flying fuq for the NeS or its ways!

Otter: Woo!

The two click their shot glass and bottle, and Maybechild swigs down her shot. She then puts an arm around the Otter.

Maybe: Cliches be damned! I think this will be the start of a beautiful friendship...

Swipe back to the world of the writers, where most everyone is gathered now.

CM the writer: This better be good. I'm missing a raid right now...

TLTE the writer: I assure you all that you'll like what I have to announce. I've gotten us a new service provider!

A new service provider? What could The Last True Evil the writer mean by this? Tune into the next post and you just might find out!

Britt the writer: Oh dear Lord, won't the narration ever stop?

Voodoo the writer: You poor, poor thing...

(NSN: Part two! Can't promise much, but it needs to be done...)

Meanwhile (NeS count: 1. What? It's about as good an answer as any...), love continues to flood the world of the Never-ending Story. Peace sweeps over the Middle-East and heated nerdy online debates alike. And not too far from Cris B's establishment, Gebohq struggles between two of his great loves...

Geb: Hrm... Are more free donuts worth compli-mandatory man loving, or should I run back to Rachel? Perhaps if they have them in blueberry cake...oh crumbs! I wasn't supposed to have any donuts in the first place!

fireman: Surely you could stay a little while...

Geb: First off, I don't need to be reminded of my brief escapades as Shirley the Buxom Ballerina. Second, I can't. Sorry. I'll uh, take a rain check. Later!

And with that, Gebohq dashes away in his characteristically-cowardly fashion. The fireman stands there, dejected. The bakery store owner walks up to the fireman.

store owner: Would a donut cheer you up?

fireman: *sniffle*...yes...

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

As Gebohq is running back to his love in the world of the NeS, the writers of NeS gather to hear of a new service provider...

TLTE the writer: It's called "Story Arcade: Without Credit" and it promises to help write stories like ours out in a method engaging to us and our possible audience! From what I read of it, it's able to process our material into fun quests for our characters to develop--

Semievil the writer: Do we get loot?

TLTE the writer: Uh... well we can get what their service calls "credit" and our characters can gain any variety of things from completing quests, which I assume could include "loot" as you put it. It guarantees concrete earnings for both ourselves and our characters within their system--

Antestarr the writer: What are we waiting for? Let's install this stuff now!

TLTE the writer: Great! Now maybe we'll get more writers working on NeS.

Geb the writer: Working, ha! This is all a bunch of crock! Good storytelling can only be done through pain-stakingly long hours staring at a blank screen, trying to craft just the right words, showing your character flaws drive the drama--

CoolMatty the writer: Oh give it a rest, man. None of us signed up for creating the next Shakespearean masterpiece, and it'd be nice if we got to have some fun with our characters for a change. Besides, I've always wanted to get a tank as an epic mount...

Cali the writer: An epic what?

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

Back in the story world of NeS, at Cris B's establishment, most of our main cast is staring at the continual make-out session of Rachel and Sugarless.

Soriel: *sigh* How much longer will these two continue on with this stupidity?

Fred: Shut up! You'll discourage them from going further!

Just then, Gebohq enters the scene and stops stunned upon immediately seeing Rachel engaged with Sugarless.

Rachel: Geb! My love! It's not what you think!

Sugarless: No, it's exactly what you think!

Gebohq continues to stand apparently shocked by what he had just seen.

Rachel: Please believe me when I say I love you more than anything else. Please forgive me for what just happened. Or if you're not displeased, perhaps we can explore our love with her, or another woman, when we can.

This time, everyone else stares shockingly.

Rachel: Please say you still love me, Gebohq.

Gebohq smiles stupidly.

Gebohq: Of course I still love you.

Gebohq and Rachel leap into each other's arms, quickly turning everyone's shock into disgust. Caspain then enters the scene.

Caspian: So does this mean--

Sugarless: NO! I did what I did to save the story, that's all!

Caspian: But--

Sugarless: What's that? I think last I checked I was overdue for some acts of plant-possessed evil.

Sugarless eyes glaze an evil shine.

Sugarless: And you made me mad last, dear.

Caspian: Uh...

Voodoo: I'd suggest running.

Caspian: Right.

Caspian bolts from the scene, with Sugarless chasing close behind with a random steak knife.

Ford: So about Geb and Rachel--

Ford is interrupted by a loud crash in the kitchen.

Cris B: Come back, toaster! You haven't finished with the other twenty-seven orders yet!

The possessed toaster hops proudly behind Gebohq, its cord tied around his neck.

possessed toaster: NYAHAHAHAHA! You cannot escape my toasty wrath now!

Gebohq: urk...

Rachel: Gebohq!

Gebohq: Let me... handle this my--urk--love... and show you-rrrgh... how heroic and brave...I am...

Rachel: Oh Geb!

Gebohq struggles with the constricting grip of the possessed toaster's power cord as the others watch with varying levels of concern and interest.

Soriel: I don't understand. None of you are going to help him?

Semievil: There's no need. The toaster poses no real threat.

Soriel: It looks like that thing has him in an inescapable death grip to me.

Ford: You don't understand. In other stories, a bad guy poses a serious threat when they have a tactical advantage, or when they're stronger or smarter. In the world of the NeS that we live in, however, a bad guy requires more than that.

Soriel: More?

Gebohq runs backwards into a wall in an attempt to shake his appliance adversary off with little luck.

Antestarr: Yes. Did you not stop to wonder how it is that those of us you killed not long ago seemed to inexplicably come back to life without so much as a scratch or psychological scar? Like you, Geb's antagonist over there fails to understand that it must also exploit the story's conventions to its advantage.

Ford: To be of any threat, a villain must be aware of their role and the roles of others in the story. They must be able to manipulate the story conventions so that they appeal to the audience. Perhaps they'll wear jeans and a bright T-shirt instead of oppressive black to win the common man over, or turn their target powerless, if the target is a woman, by grabbing her upper arm. If they don't use story conventions to their advantage, it doesn't matter if they could destroy a planet with a snap of their fingers.

Semievil: I think the toaster will make for good Wile E. Coyote material myself. A nice change of pace from all the partly-evil types biting my style these days. I'm looking at you, Antestarr.

With uncharacteristic levels of strength, Gebohq suddenly tears the cord apart from his neck, and the toaster falls to the ground. The toaster says something about never resting until Gebohq is dead and that this won't be the last they see of it. Gebohq presumably says some witty one-liner before crushing it beneath his shoe. Not many people seem to be paying attention to either at this point, however.

Antestarr: Hey, I'm all on the badass angle. You can take your beef up with TLTE and Thand if you want.

Rachel: *turning around* How do you know of Arkng Thand, and where do you get off saying that he's a bad man?

Geb: You know him?

Rachel: Well yes. If it wasn't for him, I would never have known how to make my love known to you.

Geb: What do you mean?

Rachel: He told me how to encourage poorer story posts so that I could become a character like you on the first of April and be free of the annual curse. Without his help, I couldn't stand here to show you my love.

Geb: I don't understand. What does April Fool's Day have to do with anything?

Ford: Did she not tell you already? She's the personification of April Fool's, Geb. You know, pranks and tricks and lies.

Rachel: But not of my love for you, Gebohq! What he says is true, but please believe me when I say my love is not a trick!

Gebohq looks down to the ground. The rain outside seems to begin slowing down.

Rachel: Gebohq...?

Geb: I believe you. I should be so lucky as to have my true love be as divine as you.

Rachel: Oh Geb!

Antestarr: Oh for crying out loud! Gebohq! You're about to destroy the NeS with your love for her! Don't you care?

Gebohq: *sigh*... All stories should end, Ante. What better way than with a happy ending, right?

Antestarr: For who? Just because the story won't continue to be told doesn't mean we won't go on! But we won't go on with life in our actions, but with empty motions without a will of our own. Am I the only one who loves the NeS enough to be heart-broken over its loss? Do you think you're the only one deserving of a happy ending? What of the bad guys you so wished to see reform? What of Losien, who recently lost her love? Your new love may inspire you to be brave in the face of Hell itself, but you cower more than ever at the thought of losing your love. Love conquers all, Gebohq, but what will you be conquering?

Gebohq: Los...?

Rachel holds Gebohq tight, providing herself as a shield against Antestarr and the others.

Rachel: Don't you worry about those things. Everybody will be fine enough -- they can handle themselves. Whatever happens, we can face it together, right?

Gebohq smiles at Rachel for a moment. He closes his eyes, takes a deep breath, takes a step back and holds the sides of Rachel's shoulders. He opens his eyes.

Geb: Rachel, I--

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

TLTE the writer: The installation should be done....now!

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

He suddenly appears to studder, but no words are coming out of his mouth. He falls in a stiff manner.

Rachel: Geb...?

Voodoo: Oh God, he's having a seizure!

Antestarr: No... he's suffering from a much stranger condition, but what is it...?

Rachel: Somebody save him!

Voodoo: I... *looks at her hands*

Antestarr: We need to get him back to our place. He might not have much time, and the Haunted House of Heroes has what we need.

Everyone else stands around.

Antestarr: What are you all waiting for? Ford, Sem, carry Geb. Everyone follow me!

Cris B: Wait you didn't pay for your... oh drat, I guess I'll have to see what this "haunted house" thing is. Oven your in charge

Oven: YES, after ten thousand years I'm free, free to conquer

Cris B: and absolutely no conquering of earth while I'm away got that

Oven: ohhhhhh

The possessed oven has been rendered incapable of it's wildest dream, and takes it's anger out on the other random appliances, and some of the customers. But still makes some good Chikin, weird no? Anyway back to our adventures.
Ford and Sem support Geb, as they all stand waiting for the bus.

Antestarr: Why are we waiting for a bus to the middle of nowhere, can't anyone teleport us there?

No it's a plot devolopment, and you all have to go through it in order to further your characters along, and start a new story arc, all about the horrors on a bus bwhahaha.

Antestarr: Oh... I knew that.

Right, now for some further contrived plot device to lead you all into some crazy story....
The bus arrives

Antestarr: Ok everyone on to the bus. Ford Sem, you guys first, make sure Geb doesn't have any problem.

Semievil: Uhh, Antestarr, I don't have any money for the bus

Ford: Yeah, me neiter...

Antestarr: Wait, does anyone have any money for the bus?

Multiple negative replies assault his ears.

Antestarr: Groan, ok wait a second. Hello bus driver do you take credit?

Will our heros be able to save Gebohq? Does the bus driver take credit cards? Why are we putting them through this needless plot devolopment? Find out on the next exciting instalment of the Never Ending Story!



Cris B: guys wait upppppp

(NSN: Last part! Woo!)

Some time later at the Haunted House of Heroes...

Cris B: *huff*...*huff*...

Cris runs up to front door of the Haunted House of Heroes and knocks loudly. After a few deep breaths, and not receiving a response, Cris invites himself inside.

Cris: Hello? Anybody here?

The door closes behind him, startling Cris.

ghostly voice: Honestly, I just try to be nice and close doors for people and they have to get all jumpy about it.

Cris: Uh...sorry. Can you tell me if there are any um... live people here?

ghostly voice: I see how it is. Most all of them are down the hall and through the second right door. Don't expect me to do you any more favors though, you breath-addict.

Wishing to avoid further trouble, Cris walk down the hall and through the second right door. In the room, he finds most everyone he saw before, plus some. He also sees Gebohq helld in some high-tech suspended animation tube.

Antestarr: ...and thanks for the help, MZZT.

MZZT: No problem. I had a few things left around I wanted to pick up before heading off again.

Ford: Didn't we have someone else in one of these things earlier?

MZZT: I don't know what you're talking about--

Cris: HEY!

Some of the people in the room turn their attention to Cris.

Cris: I said wait up! Wasn't anyone listening to me?

Ford: Who are you again?

Cris: I--

Rachel: We'll figure that out later.

Cris: But--

Rachel: Didn't anyone tell you that your mother just died?

Cris: Do you really expect me to believe that?

Just then, Cris's mobile phone rings.

Cris: Hello? Dad? Oh god...

Cris rushes out of the room with the phone to his ear.

Ford: How the hell did you know about his mother?

Semievil: How the hell did he get reception in this place? I've tried calling for delivery and got nothing!

Rachel: His mother didn't die, I just played a prank to get him out of here. Now if someone would be so kind as to give an update on my love, Gebohq, please?

MZZT: Ah, well, the analysis was only able to figure out that his condition is being caused by something emanating from a parallel dimension that the Thingy^2 identified as "Story Arcade."

Rachel: Thingy-squared?

Ford: It's our in-house teleportation device. I wouldn't recommend traveling by it as the trip hurts like hell.

Rachel: I don't care if it burns my hair off! If it means a way to save my love, then I'm going to do it! Who's with me?

everyone else: Uh... erm...

Conveniently for the indecisive group, The Patriot bursts into the scene.

The Patriot: Where's The Last True Evil? Answer!

Antestarr: I believe you killed him.

The Patriot: Don't get smart with me, kid! I've heard reports of recent activity from what could only be him, and I know you sympathizers helped him before! Take me to that guy book fellow.

Ford: Gebohq? He's right there.

Ford points to Gebohq who is hung in suspended animation.

The Patriot: Step aside. He needs to stop napping and give me the straight talk...

Rachel: NO! He's on the brink of death and that's the only thing keeping him alive!

Antestarr: If I may, none of us have seen The Last True Evil since you shot him, and we will be certain to let you know first thing if we do see him.

The Patriot continues to act out his best Clint Eastwood standoff impression.

The Patriot: If any of you see The Last True Evil, do not engage him. Report to me. Everyone understand?

Murmurs of agreement rise from everyone.

Antestarr: So do we need some sort of uh... searchlight with the American flag on it to call you, or what?

The Patriot: While I'm here, I might as well extend an offer to everyone here concerning the latest efforts to battle the Globalists and the Trans-Terra-Terrorists. Kid, tell them about the Calling.

Antestarr: Or don't answer my question...

The Company Kid steps forward and clears his throat.

Company Kid: The world needs the help of everyone it can get these days by stimulating the economy, reporting suspicious activity, and showing their pride in America with flag pins. But everyone these days can hear The Calling for something greater, more exciting, less demanding. The United States, therefore, now offers the Without Credit(tm) program to all non-professional heroes. Help take on special missions now and receive credit towards great rewards instantaneously! Quickly rise to the next level just like your favorite professional heroes in fun and easy quests!

The Company Kid hands out brochures to each of the people present and continues.

Company Kid: Everything you need to know is in there. Should you heed The Calling and register in the Without Credit (tm) program, there is a teleportation device outside that will bring you to your mission of choice. I would suggest the Infiltration Within the Damned Manufacturing Company myself -- plenty of terrorists and undead for easy picking or pretend to apply for a job and seduce attractive employees to gain information like a real spy!

With that, The Patriot and the Company Kid exit the scene. Some of the main characters begin reading through the brochure with interest.

Rachel: You all aren't actually considering this "calling" craziness, are you?

Semievil: Hey, it says here after completing 20 missions, I gain the ability to cast beer and fireworks!

Rachel: Well if anybody needs me, I'll be saving Gebohq!

Rachel marches out of the room. A moment later, Cris enters the room.

Cris B: That woman lied to me. My mother didn't die. And I had my hopes up that she choked on my fruitcake too!

Voodoo: It also looks like if a group works on missions together the group itself can gain credits for stuff like juke boxes and dojos for their base!

*Everyone stares at Cris B.*

Semievil: You wanted your mom to die?

Cris: Um, I mean live...

Antestarr: On a fruitcake?

Cris: ...no, actually it was a manly, uh, mancake. Yeah. I manned it up myself!

*Desperate to change the subject, Cris spies Sem's "The Calling" pamphlet.*

Cris: Hey, what's that? Something new and unrelated to what I just said?

Semievil: You bet!

*Sem flourishes his 'The Calling' pamphlet.*

Cris: Cool, you can cast beer! We should totally sign up and forget about my faux pas!

Semievil: Then let's hit it.

Antestarr: Uh, I don't know. I tend to work better alone.

Cris: Oh come on, Ante. Don't you want to crush your enemies and earn valuable bonus rewards?

Antestarr: Okay, fine. Count me in.

MZZT: And count me in as well, comrades!

Antestarr: You're still here?

*Ante, Cris and Sem head outside (with MZZT in tow) to the conveniently-located 'The Calling' teleporter device, which is a large metal arch with a small computer-screen on one side.*

'The Calling' Computer: Welcome to 'The Calling'! We at 'The Calling' are glad that you have decided to heed 'The Calling' and make the world a better place.

Antestarr: Right on!

'The Calling' Computer: And receive special technical training such as bomb defusal, advanced marksmanship and electric bogaloo dancing!

Cris: Right on!

Anterstarr: What?

'The Calling' Computer: Please enter your 'The Calling' ID.

Semievil: Okay, we've got to think of some cool names before we sign up.

Antestarr: What's wrong with my regular name?

*Sem rolls his eyes.*

Semievil: Look, Ante, nothing's wrong with your name, but now that we're going to be real official heroes we need to step it up a notch.

Cris: Yeah. You've got to bring your a-game if you want to be on the a-team.

*Inspiration strikes Cris.*

Cris: Hey, that could be my name! A-nihilator!

Semievil: You're a strange man.

*Undaunted, Cris punches his new handle into the computer.*

'The Calling' Computer: Thank you for registering. Enter next party member.

*Rachel wanders back.*

Rachel: Hey! I just went back in to check on Gebohq and nobody was monitoring the stasis chamber.

Antestarr: Sorry, we don't have time. There's evil afoot.

MZZT: That's right, lady. We're not just your average nobodies - we're NeS heroes! When 'The Calling' calls us we have to respond.

Antestarr: Where did you come from, anyways? I thought you were retired.

Semievil: I thought you were dead.

Antestarr: I thought you were retired and dead.

Rachel: Fine, you want to be big tough macho heroes?

Cris: Yes!

Rachel: Then have it your way!

*With a blast of April Fools prank magic Rachel zaps the 'The Calling' teleporter, scrambling it's programming. The machine actives and sucks the quartet in!*

THE CARIBBEAN. 1694.

*A vortex opens several meters above a tropical island and roughly deposits MZZT, Sem, Cris and Ante onto the beach.*

Cris: And now to begin our work for 'The Calling'!

Antestarr: This doesn't seem quite right...

Meanwhile(ish), at the Haunted House of Heroes, the BokkenMonkey tromps in through the inexplicably open door.

Bokken: They're after me! Get them away from me!

Rachel looks at Bokken, then at the computer she just zapped, then back towards Geb, then out the door, then several other directions with little justificaion, then back at Bokken.

Rachel: No one's after you. You're off your rocker.

Bokken: Zombies!

Rachel looks again

Rachel: No, no zombies that I can see.

Bokken: Vin Diesels, then!

Rachel: No, I checked specifically for Vin Diesels, of which there were none. Chasing you. There were no Vin Diesels chasing you.

Bokken: Ghost ninja pirate robot cowboy dinosaurs?

Rachel: If you don't mind, I have a love of my life to go watch over mournfully...

Bokken: No! Wait! I remember now! Jaglavac! FIRE ants of doom! That's what's chasing me!

Sure enough, at that very moment, thousands of tiny little red ants with the power to fiercely annoy (and theoretically actually harm) were pouring into the woodwork of the Haunted Hall of Heroes, as well as out of the woodwork, and pretty much everywhere else as well. They come in packs.

But, on a totally unrelated note thousands of miles away but only in the wrong direction...

Man: That really hurt!

The mockingbirds mocking drew the attention of an Owl that was sleeping nearby. The Owl lunged groggily at the unsuspecting tauntmaster, but was certainly not a morning Owl. It's lunge fell laughably short, and the Owl instead attacked a lengthg of coaxial cable that provided the internet connection to a young man living in an adjoining building. The plot thickens!

The young man in turn, wakes up, goes to check his email, his web comics, his interactive storyboard where he wishes more people would write (shameless plug I know) and grumble at the normally large amount of spam that clutters his inbox, and is horrified to find his internet connection not working! He screams, a long mournful yell, filled with the loathing, the self doubt, the self loathing and the doubt of how real his life really is, which ends suddenly with him falling unconscious. The scream wakes up the pregnant woman three floors up and 6.5 rooms over. The plot twists!

Meanwhile, back with our time traveling heros...

Sem: Where are we?

Ante: I'm not sure Sem, but based on our surroundings, it looks to be an island...

Cris: AHHHHHH MY EYES!!!


Ante: What's wrong with your eyes?

Cris: I can't see out of... oh wait, whoops forgot to open them heh.. waiiit no my eyes I can't see out of one!

Mzzt: Could that be because of the patch over your eye? *snickers* not to mention you dress funny.
Mzzt bursts into laughter at seeing Cris, in this ridiculous outfit with gigantic billowing pants, a vest, and boots. None of which matched, nor had any color that was supposed to really be seen by the anyone, bright yellows, neon greens, and dark purples combined to form the most mismatched combination seen in many years. Well actually, it was just as ridiculous as..

Sem: WHAT HAPPENED TO MY LEG?

Ante: I believe it's a piece of wood right now Sem

Sem: What do you mean it's a piece of.. oh right,
He takes of his woden leg, and realizes he is dressed just as bizarly as Cris. Gigantic hat, with one long feather, a puffy shirt, with lace all around it, and tights. Well, one of the legs of the tights was cut of where the wooden leg was.

Sem: Hey, it's fun to walk like this really.
He spends the next big walking around on his peg leg, his real leg bent up behind him. Antestarr, and Mzzt, realize that they to are dressed awfully, and wierd, if not as bizzarly as the other two. And the fact they all now carried swords, and what looked to be black powder pistols.

Ante: Is anyone else wondering why we're dressed as pirates?

Pirate One: Yarrr Mate, what else ye be dressin as?

Present day...

Rachel: Geb my love, won't you come back to me

Loud noises make her turn around exasparated by the annoying people who were doing nothing to save Gebohq. The four stooges she had sent whirling around in the teleporter were back already. Wait... no something was a little off about them.

TimeTravelingPirate 1: Yarr, lads, look booty!

What is going on? Time traveling pirates, who switch clothes? What will happen to our heros trapped back in the past. Will they still earn points for what heroic acts they do there, so they can still earn cool trinkets for helping to save the world? And what in the world is going on with the other random story that seems to be affecting people continuously with no clear concise meaning? Do you have any more questions to ask? Find out these answers, and those you didn't want to know soon, in the next chapter of The Never Ending Story!

*Rachel contemplates the future-pirates. They seem to be dressed in the same outfits as Sem and company.*

Rachel: Well this is interesting.

*Meanwhile, in the past (what?).*

Semievil: Well, this is interesting. And I'm not just talking about my severely awesome peg leg.

Antestarr: Yeah, it's almost as if we've mistakenly traveled back in time somehow.

*MZZT runs up.*

MZZT: According to my calculations we've mistakenly traveled back in time! Somehow!

Antestarr: We worked that one out already.

MZZT: I miss the old days. People used to listen to me and stuff.

Pirate: Are ye daft?

MZZT: I was an important part of the team.

Pirate: Listen to me, boy!

*The pirate brandishes his hook hand.*

Semievil: Oh man, that's even better than a wooden leg!

Pirate: We have but a single task at hand so you'd best be focused on the job!

Antestarr: Well, Mr. Pirate-guy, maybe you could tell us again what that job is. Just in case we forgot.

Semievil: And you could remind us of your name.

Cris: And also our names! Because I think we forgot those too.

*The pirate facepalms with his meat hand and shakes his head.*

Pirate: I be Captain Sullivan, terror o' the seven seas!

Cris: Can we call you Sully?

Captain Sullivan: You'll call me sir, boy, or I'll keelhaul ye!

Cris: Yes sir captain sir!

Captain Sullivan: You four simpletons be 'Hopper' Johnson -

Sem.

Captain Sullivan: - Jimmy McRafferty -

Ante.

Captain Sullivan: - Charlie Thompson -

MZZT.

Captain Sullivan: - and 'Dead-Eye' Pete, the man with no last name.

*Cris.*

Cris: Oh boy!

Captain Sullivan: Arr. I hired you four scalawag malcontents to break into Governor James' mansion and steal the map to Grunderson's Isle, where thar be treasure - the lost crown jewels of King Edward.

Antestarr: And approximately when was this all going to go down.

Captain: Right now!

*The Captain pulls out his flintlock pistol and fires on a redcoat guard standing outside the gate to a nearby large estate that nobody noticed until two seconds ago.*

Semievil: Well that's convenient.

Cris: Can I be Dead-Eye Pete, the man with no last name *and* a parrot who tells people to walk the plank?

*A musket ball zips by Cris, taking the feather off his tricorn hat.*

*At that very moment in the present, Rachel pieces together the situation going down at the HHoH.*

Rachel: You're wearing MZZT's lab coat! And you've got Ante's combat fatigues! And Sem's duct-tape vest! And whatever Cris was wearing!

*Indeed, the motley pirate crew appears to be dressed in the very same clothes our heroes were wearing only moments ago.*

Rachel: You could almost pass for them, too, if it wasn't for the epic beards and long hair. And also your teeth are sort of horrific.

Dead-Eye Pete: Yarr, lassie.

Rachel: Dear God, you're missing an eyeball!

Hopper Johnson: Enough stalling, we be here for the map!

Rachel: Um, and you only have one leg...that's neat...I guess...

*Suddenly, The Company Kid busts in!*

Company Kid: You men are in violation of 'The Calling' terms of service agreement!

McRafferty: Ahoy!

Company Kid: ...uh, yes. Ahoy to you all. As I was saying, you're overdue for your first mission. Come on now, hop to it!

*This remark enrages 'Hopper' Johnson.*

Hopper Johnson: I'll kill you and feed your corpse to the sharks!

*Enraged, Hopper hops towards The Kid and has to be restrained by his shipmates.*

Dead-Eye Pete: Calm down, lad! You've only got one leg!

Hopper Johnson: So will he when I'm done with him! yarr, I'll tear his leg off, and beat him with it, rip out his eye...


Dead-eye Pete: That's enough outt ya, this young mate might now where the tresaure is, yarr.

Company Kid: Umm do you mean the crazy loot you get for doing missions?

Dead-Eye Pete: I mean the treasure lad!

Company Kid: Well just do the missions like your supposed to, just step into this transporter and it will get you exactly where you want to go.

Meanwhile in the past... wow this is getting confusing with all these jumps present past, present past. Next it will be the furutre...

In the future...

but but, I wasn't serious!!

In the future...
A bright flash happens!

Ok seriously, how useful is that?

In the past again...

Captain: Yarr boys we got'em on the ropes! Forward me'hearys!

Cris: Sir yes Cap'n Sir!

Captain: Yarr!
Shoots, another red coat, and storms through the door, Cris, screaming and running after him, Sem, peg legging not so fast, but screaming louder than Cris. Antestarr and Mzzt look at each other, shrug, and run screaming behind the others...

* Governor James' Mansion *

The ballroom is alive with dance music as a four piece band plays on into the night. The music is unusually loud and the punch is unusually strong, so none of the guests have noticed the onrush of pirates outside the mansion. Ornately dressed couples waltz around the Roccoco hall in time to the music. At the front of the room, Governor James himself presides over the festivities. A strangely-dressed couple bursts through the doors and runs to the Governor's table.

Governor J: "What ho, what ho, if it isn't my good friends from the future, Agents Murdertongue and Thawbroke! Quite funny that those northern provinces will be separate from the Empire someday, no? Enjoying the party?"

Indeed, before the Governor are the Canadian Collective Agents dispatched by Lord Tiberius Grismath so long ago. They've been traveling through time and space ever since being deposited in 19th century Fish London and have now been working for the government here in the Antilles. Murdertongue is a petite brunette rumored to have a kiss of death and Thawbroke wears a mysterious, steaming gauntlet on his left hand.

Murdertongue: "The party's over, Governor! We're being attacked by pirates!"

Thawbroke: "Captain Sullivan's at it again, and this time he has a new band of brigands."

Governor J chuckles. "So, old Sully thinks he can crash my party, eh? Well I have a few surprises for him. Two, in fact, and they're named Murdertongue and Thawbroke!"

Murdertongue: "Sir?"

Governor J: "I've had my blacksmith make bullets that should fit the strange weapon you brought from the future, Murdertongue. If it fires as fast as you say it does, you should be able to cut a path through a whole army of pirates! They'll never know what hit them. And Thawbroke, with that glove of yours, my blacksmith thinks you could toss molten metal -- I hope you can throw well with your left hand! I want both of you to go see him at once and head off the attackers. I'll send some more redcoats to hold them off until you get there."

The Agents rush off to the smithy in the basement. There, they meet Blacksmith Smith, who presents them with their respective weapons.

Thawbroke: Molten iron, eh? This will pack quite a punch. Let's go teach those pirates a lesson. ...Murdertongue?

Murdertongue: Hold on, I'm still customizing my outfit! Do these pantaloons make me look fat?

Thawbroke was already out the door and on his way to meet the pirates.

Meanwhile, the band of pirates has grouped outside a large wooden door.

"Dead-Eye" Pete/Cris: Guys! I hear someone coming!

White-hot iron suddenly burned through the door above Pete's head.

Charlie Thompson/MZZT: That's different.

Thawbroke kicks open the door and punches 'Dead-Eye', sending him flying across the hall and into 'Hopper' Johnson. "WHO WANTS SOME OF THIS?"

Captain Sullivan: Yarr! I've seen many a hook for a hand in my day, but never a metal oven mitten! Get over here, ye yellow-bellied baker!

Murdertongue rolls into the hallway Sonic-style as well and fires a volley from her retrofitted dual MP5s right at Captain Sullivan; however, the Captain deflects all the bullets with a twirl of his rapier.

Captain Sullivan: Is that the best ye've got, lassie? Ye'll have to do better than that to get the best of Captain Sullivan, terror of the high seas! URK!

A throwing knife juts out of Captain Sullivan's thigh. Thawbroke gets another knife ready.

'Hooper' Johnson gets up from under 'Dead-Eye' Pete and sees the attackers and is seen by them.

Murdertongue and Thawbroke - to each other: SEMIEVIL! The mission!

OOC: Both M & T are expendable, so don't worry about killing them off.

The present. For serious.

Company Kid: I meant no offense, sir, just that your first mission awaits. I assure you, there will be a cash...err...booty reward, upon success.

Hopper: Yaar! This "meeshone" sounds to be right up our alley...

Bokken: Aren't you all forgetting something terribly important? Did I not just mention the fire ants of doom?

Deadeye Pete: What, ye mean these wee things? He stomps on a footload of ants. What be the problem?

Bokken: They're...terribly...dangerous. They bit.

The pirates procede to stomp all over the giant horde or "dangerous" fire ants. Ant after ant falls under their feet of fury, until there is a loud, disembodied "ding" sound, and a large white "+1" appears over McRafferty's head. The pirates cease their stomping. The ants seem to just about all be dead now anyways.

McRafferty: Yaar! What be this malarchy!?

Company Kid: Simple! You just earned your first "The Calling" ability point, redeemable for top-of-the-line, instantaneous training in the ability or special move of your choice! And there are plenty more where those came from if you just start your #$#@ing mission!

Bokken: ...there's no need for that type of language.

Company Kid: Try wrangling up heroes to go on missions for rewards. It's like pulling teeth out of the Berlin wall.

Bokken: That doesn't make any sense.

Company Kid: The point is it's hard! It shouldn't be, but it is!

Will the pirates ever go on their first mission? What special attack will Jimmy McRafferty take? Will the Company Kid's head explode? What's going on with that cause and effect story?

Well...

The pregnant woman who lived three floors up and 6.5 rooms away from the young man awoke with a start, and realized she was in labor! She go out of bed, rushed down the stairs and grabbed the first cab she could see, shoving another woman out of the way to get it. It was only after the cab had her halfway to the hospital that she realized it was just gas. The plot...continues!

McRafferty: Arrr, so how can I use this 'ere weird stuff?

Company Kid: Well, you need to yell out, 'Power Up Nooaaa' and it should be pretty explanatory from there.

McRafferty: So I yell Power up Noa and...
Suddenly a White light covers McRaffery, and whatever else he was going to say is lost. All stare at this crazy sight. The white light leaves in a blare of music, which odly consists of only 8 notes...

Company Kid: See was that so hard?

McRafferty: Yarr, that was easy as boarding a merchant and stealing all her wares.

Company Kid: Right... anyway, will you guys leave on a mission now?


Back in the past...

Sem/Hooper Johnson: OW, curses you scalliwag, why'd you fall on me!

Cris/Dead-Eye Pete: I was pushed. Duh, now let's get them mate!

Cris gets up, charges at Mudertongue and Thawbroke, trips falls, and ends up flat on his face. Meanwhile Sem finally gets a good look at his advesaries.

Sem 'gasp' you two! But I thought...

Meanwhile the twists and turns of the plot that must be important continues! The woman pushed away from the cab by the gassy pregnant woman, gets up and brushes herself off. 'So people are so rude' she thinks, and then tries to call another cab. After an hour, and still no cabs, she tries calling the cab company. No luck. In fact, all the cabs, and cabbies seem to have mysteriously disappeared! The plot simmers!

Thawbroke: You thought what? You thought we were trapped in an alternate reality where people were fish and bullets were crackers and if you tried to shoot a guy you just fed him?

Semievil: Um, not exactly.

Governor James: Good show I say! Now finish them off!

*Curious to see the future team in action, the governor stepped outside. Captain Sullivan takes advantage of the distracted Murdertongue and Thawbroke, pointing his pistol at James.*

Captain Sullivan: Aha! I've come for the map, you scurvy dog!

Governor James: Egad!

Murdertongue points her mp5's at Sullivan.*

Murdertongue: Not today, Captain Morgan!

*The standoff continues for a moment.*

Governor James: Well, I can only think of a single way to solve this predicament.

Murdertongue: Me too. I call it 'shoot everybody'.

Captain Sullivan: Yarr, he be talkin' about article four of the pirate's code.

Thawbroke: What's that?

Governor James: A song-and-dance competition!

Thawbroke: Okay?

*Governor James calls the band outside, and they strike up a tune. He tosses his expensive overcoat to the ground and starts singing. The Canadian agenst stare dumbfounded.*

Governor James:
What ho, what ho
a-pirating we go!
We like to sail the sea
And have a fight with you and me

Captain Sullivan:
Buckling the swashes in my stolen pantaloons
I sing a tale of treasure and a song of many moons
Running up the cannons and stringing up the flag
I won't be put under by this silly pompous wag

Semievil: I vote we leave now.

Antestarr: It's an island. Where can we go?

Cris: Don't worry guys, I'll steal his keys!

*Cris rifles through the governor's coat. He comes up empty in terms of car keys but comes up big in terms of secret treasure maps.*

Cris: Score! I found a secret treasure map!

Antestarr: Explain later. Leave now.

*The four pirate heroes run for it, leaving behind the bizarre musical theatre show.*

Agent Murdertongue stops dancing long enough to realize that the pirates, including Semievil, have fled the scene.

Murdertongue: Governor James!

Governor James:
I am a modern governor of this island fair
Entertain the rich! Save the poor! Do my talents ever end?
I impress all my party guests with my wit and flair
And if pirates hope to run amok, upon me they can depend!

Thawbroke: Governor! We have to stop the pirates! They've taken your map! If we send redcoats to the docks now, we can head them off!

Governor James is too engrossed in his routine, however, to pay the Canadians from the future any heed. Meanwhile, several soldiers have gathered along with curious party guests to watch the musical duel unfold.

Captain Sullivan:
Sullivan is my name! Terror of the eighteen seas!
I've scared a few you never knew
Think you can best me? Please!

Thawbroke: Don't just stand there, men! After the pirates! We can't let them steal King Edward's lost crown jewels!

Murdertongue: ...How are they lost if we had their location charted on a map?

Redcoat 1:
Buzz off dear friends from times to come
We wish to watch our Gov compete
Not even the lines of fate can plumb
Just how much justice he will mete!

Murdertongue: Have we suddenly become stuck in a Gilbert and Sullivan musical?!

Thawbroke: After them!

Redcoat 2:
Only Governor James will we obey
Whether we'd follow whomever wore his clothes
It's not my place to say,
But if one wanted to try, why not wear those?

The Redcoat motions to the Governor's discarded coat. Thawbroke dons the red and gold garment without any noticeable reaction from Governor James.

Thawbroke: Alright men, charge!

Redcoat 1:
No, no, you're doing it all wrong!
If you want us to hear you,
Your orders must be in song,
And for us to follow you, you must dance, too!

Thawbroke: ... I can't do this.

Murdertongue: Give me the coat, Thawbroke.

Thawbroke: You want to deal with this madness? Be my guest.

Murdertongue: It took me three years of theater school before I realized I actually wanted to be a secret agent and assassin, but I've still got the magic.

"Governor" Murdertongue:
RED COAAAAAATS! Heed these orders with special care!
Follow with fleet of foot yon pirates to the docks
Defend King Edward's jewels, cross me if you dare
Disobey and off your jewels I will tear -- and by jewels I mean bollocks!

Redcoats 1, 2, and the bit part, 3, all stand dumbfounded, but soon are replaced by a dust cloud as they race after the pirates.

Soriel exited the bathroom having bathed in a scented bath of cammomile and lavender extract, a beautiful, sensual experience that eased his aching muscles and soothed his foggy mind of all fears, worries and concerns...

Soriel: "SILENCE!!"

He had, however, been thinking deeply about the words spoken to him as he bore witness to the destruction of the Evil Toaster by Gebohq despite the fact that the toaster ought to have been able to throttle the daft sod in an instant. He had to affect the storyline, warp it, use it, bend it. If he wanted to truly become a malevolent force within the NeS he had to break the NeS.

As Soriel re-entered the room, having departed at the first mention of 'hero work' earlier on, he found that four of the group had been replaced by gristled pirates. Bokken Monkey had also shown up from somewhere, however, rather irritatingly, the walking advertisement for hero work was still present, along with the beautiful Asian woman that seemed to be the 'key' to the current story arc.

Company Kid: "So as I was sayi-"

Soriel's blade flashed. Once before Bokken Monkey and Rachel had seen it drawn in such a deadly dance of death-producing death dance... however they had been on the recieving end of the magificent weapon. Now, to watch in full technicolour, uh I mean, glory was a spectacle indeed. With just two swipes of Teh Uber Blade, the four pirates from the past were sliced in half and fell into a heap of blood and beard-hair.

Company kid: "What the bloody hell do you think you-"

The hilt of Teh Uber Blade slammed the Company Kid's face, snapping his head back sharply; rendering the walking promotion unconscious.

Soriel: "One thing I learnt is that I might not be able to kill the main characters without you respawning but I can definately kill NPCs. No one cares about them anyway..."

He paused for a moment as he considered the fate of his fallen piratey foes.

Soriel: "...Unless they're plot necessary then I guess they'll pop back up again. But I think I've also noticed a pattern. There is no pattern. No structure. No necessities. If one path is taken down, a different one will open. So you're friends on that Carribean Island will be fine."

Rachel: "Who said I was worried? Those sods left me to try and save Gebohq all by myself!"

Soriel looked up at the suspended Gebimation, uh I mean Geb in suspended animation.

Soriel: "That's something else I realised. Characters come and go in this world but that one..."

Fred: "Hey, with that guy outta action, we can move in on his territory! Seduce the bi-" [/size]

Soriel: "Will you be quiet for five minutes!? I'm trying to have a character development moment and you're ruining it! Can't you see I'm trying to become a villain of the next level!?"

Fred: "What? You've been hanging round the heroes all this time! What were you doing? Intelligence gathering!? [/size]

Soriel: "You might say that..."

He shot a look at Rachel, an expression of determination.

Soriel: "You want to save this Gebohq?"

Rachel: "Of course!"

Soriel: "Then I will help you."

Rachel stood, shocked. He had been travelling with the group for some time, however she had considered him to be on par of trustibility as Antestarr; which isn't very trust-worthy. Like really untrustworthy. Like back-stabbing trustworthy. Totally un-

Bokken Monkey: "So... what do I do?"

The spare part, uh I mean, the remaining hero was all that stood in the way. Would this long absent hero prove to be an obstacle, or a strange ally?

Soriel: "Fat chance. You can stand guard over Gebohq. Make sure nothing untoward happens to him."

Bokken Monkey: "Aw, come on! I want to go with you guys!"

Soriel: "You can come after us once the other NeS heroes get back from the past. Now, Rachel. Let's go and save Gebohq."

Whatever Soriel's motive for saving the true hero of the NeS, he seemed intent on the mission. He and Rachel left the dutiful Bokken Monkey to his charge, the spirit of April Fool's casting a final glance at her love before they both headed to the teleporter, activated it and headed through it; making for a direct heading for the Story Arcade headquarters where the signal disabling Gebohq was coming from.

...

The deadly fire ants, without the vicious pirate to stomp them out of existence, suddenly turning the tiny, though evil, eyes on the unfortunate Bokken Monkey.

Bokken Monkey: "I knew something was going to happen!"

He hesitated. Looking up at the suspended Gebimation he bit his lower lip before looking with horror at the beady eyes of the evil ant army.

Bokken Monkey: "Ah, bugger this!"

Without further a do, Bokken Monkey raced after Soriel and Rachel, switching on the teleporter and hopping into it, hopefully arriving in whatever destined place several minutes after the first two.

* * *

The great corporate building loomed before them, towering high into the sky, seemingly a structure of blue-tinted windows. The plain white steps led up to the lobby where Soriel and Rachel ascended, entering the beautiful lobby, the floor being made of smooth marble, a red carpet marching from the entrance to the reception desk. The woman behind the desk smiled serenely as they reached her.

Soriel looked at Rachel, never being one for conversation or ettiquette.

Rachel: "Could you inform the manager of the Story Arcade that there's someone here to speak with him?"

Rachel's voice was beautiful a pleasant, filled with honesty and politeness as she smiled back at the blonde receptionist.

Receptionist: "I'm afraid you can't speak with the manager unless you have an appointment."

Soriel lashed out with Teh Uber Blade, the fearsome edge of the sword cast against the woman's neck, causing a fade in her face despite the still present smile as though she had held her face out in the wind for too long.

Rachel: "Can we please speak with the manager? It's very urgent."

Receptionist: "Of course! I'll just buzz him down!"

* * *

The Realm of Writers, where King Gebohq lords all, was in a state of tumult as Gebohq's office panned into view. Character sheets were everywhere, storyline pages, pencils, pens, potted plants.

Britt the Writer: "I don't get this Story Arcade thing."

Gebohq the Writer: "What's not to get? Story Arcade equals good stuff. That's all you need to know."

Britt the Writer: "That's way to convinient and simple for it to be true."

Gebohq the Writer: "Probably but you don't need to worry your pretty little head about it."

Britt the Writer: "..."

Gebohq the Writer: "Yeah. It's just an expression..."

From the direction of the door to Gebohq's office, two Royal Guards still stand wearing their usual pink uniforms.

Royal Guard #1: "Oh, that was a coming out if ever there was one!"

Royal Guard #2: "So true! Our little Gebohq's becoming a man!"

Britt the Writer: "Okay, you've really got to get rid of those two; they're spoiling the whole realism thing we're meant to have here in the Writer's Realm."

Gebohq the Writer: "Buuuuut they're my guards!"

Whilst Gebohq the Writer proceeds to whine about having to get rid of his Royal Guards, I decide to take a break from narrating for a moment and have a slice of toast with some nice, hot tea; brewed to perfection by my little whistling stove kettle. But then I find myself narrating even my break and I realise, finally, that I am nothing but an empty shell. I am my job. Clouds descend over me and this very weird piece of narrative comes to a close with a pair of thick red curtains drawing across the screen. Goodnight boys and girls. Goodnight.

Also in The Realm of Writers, Cali the Writer sits despondent, wishing she had a slice of toast with some nice, hot tea; brewed to perfection by some quaint little whistling stove kettle.

Really. Some people just have to steal everything. Get your own!

Cali the Writer: Oh, shut up!

Like Britt the Writer, she just didn't get this Story Arcade thing. It made her feel disassociated from the modern world - or the World of Writers at least. She really hoped Gebohq wouldn't get rid of the guards, despite what The Britt said. She quite liked their pink uniforms, not mention their cute butts.

Sound of Narrator choking on tea and toast. Hey, did I just narrate that?

Cali the Writer smiled at the Narrator's narration. But her smile didn't last for long. It was time to do the unthinkable. She hadn't really been able to get involved with the NeS lately. Things to do, things to avoid doing, things which demanded they be undone. It wasn't fair to her beloved creations to see them stranded in NeSLimbo.

Caspian: Hang on, I made an appearance on just this page.

Cali the Writer said nothing. What Caspian said was true but he was still, in effect, in NeSLimbo. Really, there was only one thing she could do. She would miss them, these children of her imagination.

Calilmalith: If you're going to do what I think you're going to do, I'll, I'll ...

Caspian: Don't we get a say in this?

Cali the Writer ignores their pleadings. And writes.

***
Suddenly, Thrawn42689 bursts into the lobby, covered in blood.

Thrawn42689: I must see The Manager. I must see someone.

Soriel: *swinging Teh Uber Blade toward Thrawn* Who are you? And what do you want?

Thrawn42689: None of your business.

Rachel: Wait a moment, I've seen him before. You gave me a hug to celebrate my ... never mind. But where are your two friends?

Thrawn42689 puts his head into his hands and cries.

Thrawn42689: Gone, they're both gone. And by the way, we weren't friends.

Rachel: Then why are you crying?

Thrawn42689: *howling like a baby* I am not crying over them.

Soriel: *with Teh Uber Blade ready to strike* You're covered in blood. Do you want to tell us what happened?

Thrawn42689 says nothing.

Soriel: Did you kill them?

Thrawn42689: I wish I had.

Rachel: Are they dead?

Thrawn42689: I hope so. For their sake, I hope so.

Voice: Oh, they're not dead ... yet.

Rachel, Soriel, Thrawn42689 and the Receptionist all turn toward the voice. It comes from a short man with a small waxed moustache, wearing a dapper suit (the man, this is, not the moustache). He is reminiscent of Hercule Poirot, Truman Capote and Gebohq (improbable and scary!).

The Manager: No, they're not dead yet ... but I don't like their chances. You see, they have been transported to The Real World.

Rachel: *gasp*

Soriel: *gasp*

Receptionist: *gasp**gasp*

The Manager: *gasp* Oh! Um, sorry. Got carried away.

Thrawn42689: My poor Granny Cal.

Well, I didn't see that one coming. But why is Thrawn42689 covered in blood? Is The Manager telling the truth? Are Calilmalith and Caspian really lost to The Real World? Why did Thrawn42689 want to see The Manager? How did he know of The Manager's existence?

Cali the Writer: Work this one out for yourself kiddies 'cause it may be a while before I'm back.

Back in the writer's realm....

Crisp b-the-writer: (whispers) Pssst. Sem, you think they've noticed?

Sem-t-w: (whispers back) I don't think so

Crisp-t-w: Hehe, I wonder when they'll notice

Sem-t-w: Well you know how very observent everyone around here is.

The two continue to stand gaurd at Geb's door, their red coats still amazingly starched, with few of the writers noticing who they actually were.

Meanwhile back in the past..
The Govener and the Pirate captain continue their song to the amazement of all still there. Which was just the two of them.
Muurdertongue with the Gaurds go charging after our Pirate-dressed heros.

Red Coat 1: Gov'ner what do we do when we catch them?

Murdertongue: I think that's fairly obvious

Red coat 2: really?

Mudertongue: Take the map you idiots! Can't get any good help even all the way back in this time sheesh.

Red Coat 2: But what if they don't want to give it to us.

Mudertongue: we MAKE them...

And with that ominous statement we run forward a few hundred yards to our heros.

Antestarr: (panting) almost there, we really should go running more often shouldn't we?

Mzzt: Probably

Sem: With a peg leg!

Antestarr: Right Sem whatever you say

Sem: You should alsways run with a Peg Leg, it's so much fun

Cris: I'm not sure that you make much sense

Antestarr: Less talk more running possibly?

Sem: But why, it's a convention that allows us to just speak without any problems with running.

Which is the perfect time to interupt them with narration. Mainly because they just managed to get to a boat. All of them jump on board, and cast off. Wow I didn't know any of them knew how to do that. They relax a bit, share a small laugh at the Red coats, and Mudertongue being unable to catch up to them and stand there yelling obscenities, mostly about improbable things their mothers had done. AFter stairing at the receeding port for an appropriate amount of time they turn and..

Pirate Leader 4.5: Arr matey's so what ye doing on meh boat?

Cris: We're NeS Heroes! I'm Cris!

Semievil: We time-traveled back to the past-

Antestarr: Meaning the present.

Semievil: -And we got these hardcore pirate costumes but then Captain Sullivan said we had to steal the treasure map to King Edward's crown jewels from Governor James so we were all set to do that but then these other future people showed up with submachineguns and we left all our submachineguns in the future, which wouldn't have been a problem because all the bullets got turned into goldfish crackers but then Smithy made some more bullets -

Cris: -And they shot the bullets at us -

Semievil: -So we retreated to your fine pirate vessel and didn't notice you for a while, Captain 4.5 sir.

*Pirate Captain 4.5 is dumbstruck by Sem's barrage of talk.*[./i]

Pirate Captain 4.5: I see?

Cris: So if you'd just let us off at the nearest secret pirate base we'll be on our way.

Pirate Captain 4.5: Yarr, I dinna think so, matey. The price for stowing away be walking the plank!

*Captain 4.5 brandishes his sabre at the Heroes.*

Antestarr: Wait, let's make a deal.

Pirate Captain 4.5: Do ye have Gold?

Cris: No.

Pirate Captain 4.5: Grog?

Cris: No.

Pirate Captain 4.5: Swag?

Cris: No.

Pirate Captain 4.5: Then to the depths with ye!

Semievil: We do have this neat authentic pirate treasure map.

*Cris shows Captain 4.5 the map.*

Pirate Captain 4.5: Well, well. The famed treasure 'o Grunderson's Isle. Very well boys, I'll be taking you on for a captain's share of the loot. What say you all?

Semievil: Sure.

Antestarr: Okay.

Cris: Beedle-eep-boop-boop-boodle-oodle-doodle-bwah!

Antestarr: Um, what was that?

Cris: It's pirating song! It means I'm good to go!

Pirate Captain 4.5: Yarr, then we have an accord. Batton down the hatches! Man the tiller lines! Tack the jib!

Semievil: Button who now?

Pirate Captain 4.5: Ar, this could take a while.

Back on shore, the Agents and redcoats have boarded a ship of their own, the HMS Impermeable

Murdertongue: Follow that ship!

Redcoat 1: Yes, guvnah!

Redcoat 2: We've never had a lady guvnah before.

Redcoat 1: Sure is easy on the eyes, after all, I am a slave of booty.

Redcoat 2: I always thought the phrase was "slave of duty..."

Thawbroke: Try directing that hot air at the sails. Hey look, we're gaining on them!

Redcoat 3 extends a telescope and spies Pirate Captain 4.5 and Sem talking.

Pirate Captain 4.5: Shiver me timbers! The HMS Impermeable! The oaken avenger! Get to the cannons ye groovy, I mean, scurvy, dogs!

Murdertongue: Battlestations! Battlestations!

As Recoat 3 rings a bell, the crew rushes to the cannons...

The manager of the Story Arcade, otherwise known as, Poimanohq-

Thrawn42689: "Sounds like a Pokémon."

-proceeded to gloat menacingly at the group, until Thrawn42689 refered to Pokémon, at which point he grew suspiciously ineasy and shifty. Before the robot could pursue the line of inquiry, however, Soriel was at Poirmanohq's throat with his infamous sword.

Soriel: "Are you going to explain yourself freely or am I going to have to remove your tongue first?"

Rachel: "Wait, he needs that to tell us about Geb so he needs that tongue."

Thrawn42689: "What about his legs?"

Soriel: "But there's something almost poetic about the removal of the tongue."

Rachel: "Uh... right."

Poirmanohq: "I would prefer to tell you whatever you want to know, without the removal of any of my limbs or other such apendiges. In fact, I would like to not be harmed, injured or otherwise unduly touched in any way."

Soriel: "You can't always get what you want..."

Rachel: "But if you try sometimes, you get what you need!" Rachel's singing voice was surprisingly good, however inappropriately placed. "Uh... sorry."

Thrawn42689: "Let him speak then. If we don't like what he had to say then we can always kill him afterwards. I left my rocket launcher outside so we can even blow the place up if we feel the need."

Soriel: "I like what you have to say. Even if the talking comes before the killing."

The murderous villain lowered his sword and waited for the lengthy barrage that was likely to come from our latest, mysterious, pompous villain.

Poirmanohq: "Hey, I resent that."

Subsequently, Poirmanohq did, indeed, begin a tirade that bored all four of the other members present; only the Receptionist being at an advantage having heard it all many, many times before. Soriel grasped just a few words that involved 'Story Arcade', 'your doom', 'profit' and 'conquest', all of which equalled 'usual villainous scheme'.

Poirmanohq: "Ah! But that is where you are wrong, oh narrator!"

Ptch...

Poirmanohq: "For you see, I have not set out for money and conquest in the usual 'world domination' method, but I have bought the very world in which you live! Your Writers were very appreciative at the prospect of cash..."

Soriel: "Writers? What the hell's he talking about? Didn't Antestarr say something about that?"

Thrawn42689: "You haven't been here long, have you?"

Soriel: "Quiet you."

Poirmanohq: "The NeS, as you know it, has been converted to the Story Arcade rules system. You are all now subject to the terms and conditions of my devising. Which, to be honest, coincides with every form of standard RPG fantasy that has come previously. But either way, the NeS is now subject to it!"

Soriel: "That's a load of bollocks!"

Poirmanohq: "Proof? Well, it's one of the reasons none of your intimidation attempts have worked! Your stats in the field aren't high enough yet. It's also why you couldn't even beat my Receptionist here, never-mind me, because we're late game characters."

Thrawn42689: "But what's that got to do with the Real World?"

Poirmanohq: "Uh... that's just a way of me telling you that you'll never see your friends again. You know, the usual villainous subplot. Is one of them a princess by any chance? I probably have them in a dungeon somewhere. Or a castle."

Thrawn42689: "I say we kill him now."

Soriel: "Me too."

Rachel: "Wait, if you challenge such a late stage boss, you'll both die!"

Poirmanohq: "I believe the term is to be 'pwned'."

Rachel: "What did you do to my Geb!?"

Unfortunately, Britt the Writer ran out of tea bags and a mass panic ensued in the Realm of Writers as he proceeded to run, screaming and crying around the building, quickly followed by Calilmalith the Writer as she had been planning to steal said tea bags for the already stolen whistling kettle.

What happened to Gebohq? How will the group defeat the Receptionist!? Is Poirmanohq really a Pokémon!!?

Receptionist: "You know, I consider myself more of a random NPC rather than a level boss..."

Find out next time, on STORY ARCADE! Uh, I mean the NeS!

The world beyond the gigantic glass windows had been growing increasinly dimmer, the sun having sailed across the sky and was now drawing close to the ground and would soon be beyond sight, casting the Story Arcade world into the darkness of night.

Soriel's teeth grit together as he stared at Poirmanohq in defiance of the Story Arcade's newly implanted 'rules'. For many years he had gone by easily hacking, slicing and killing beyond all realistic capacity and yet now he was bound, chained and gagged.

Soriel: "Bugger this."

Without further thought Soriel's blade cut through the air, an audiable displacement of air resounding through the otherwise silent tower. The sword hit its mark, cutting straight through. But there was no gush of blood. No seperating of halves. No death. The image that was Poirmanohq grinned maliciously before fading out of existence. Following its owner, the building around them began to flicker and then fade from sight, leaving nothing but a desolate wasteland in its place, the fading sun casting cool rays of red across the foursome.

Receptionist: "Ah, well you spoilt my ruse Mr Soriel."

Soriel: "I did?"

Receptionist: "Without realising it, it seems. Either way, congratulations are in order, I suppose."

Rachel: "I don't think she's the receptionist after all..."

Receptionist: "How observant..." Her tone was one of deep sarcasm. "I'm The Illusionist. You fell prey to my clever ruse. No fault of your own though, I am very good, after all. Did you like my Mr Poirmanohq?"

Soriel: "Should have made him less irritating..."

The Illusionist: "Probably, then you might not have seen through my trick. Nevermind."

Rachel: "So there is no Story Arcade? We haven't been sold out?"

The Illusionist: "Actually there is indeed! Sorry to burst that particular bubble! I happen to work for them, charged with ensuring the application of the Story Arcade goes smoothly. It's not yet fully installed, you see. I had to make sure no one messed things up, we know how stubborn you characters can be when it comes to change!"

Thrawn42689: "You've got that right. Now for punishment." The robo-man cracked his knuckles viciously, ready to add more blood to that which was already accumulated upon his clothes.

The Illusionist: "I don't think so, Mr Thrawn. I'm afraid my role's not up yet. I'll be back at some point, just you wait." With that The Illusionist vanished in a wild puff of smoke which enveloped the three NeS heroes, if Soriel can be counted in that field, before slowly dissipating to reveal the barren landscape once again.

Dark storm clouds began to swarm overhead and the sun dipped below the horizon. The darkness was felt thick, the humidity of the air revealing further proof of the imminent storm.

Rachel: "What the hell just happened?"

Soriel: "I'd say were were bollocksed over."

Thrawn42689: "I say that too, if I knew what it meant."

Soriel: "Doesn't matter. We'd better get out of here before we get caught in some torrential downpour. There must be some overly convenient town nearby."

Sure enough, with the onset of nightfall, small twinklings of electrical lights pierced the darkness and a distant town was revealed. With much stumbling and hard-moving, the trio headed for the foreign town.

* * * *

Gebohq the Writer: "You know I have a gun in my top drawer?"

Britt the Writer: o_o *flees*

Epic music plays as we watch Sem the poster, parrot-shouldered, peg-legged, eye-patched, and in every way dressed as a stereotyped pirate walk along the piers of a busy port. Galleons loaded to the point of sinking with gold littering their decks are docked carelessly around.

Some people have a deep, abiding respect for the gold shipping that supports Spain's treasury... and some people don't. People sail galleons, and people can steal them. Write for pyracy booklet, pier 1850, Deadeye Cove, Barbary Coast.

Poster Sem turns to face the camera, and a single tear escapes his eyepatch and flows down his cheek.


Fade to a pompous British officer trimmed with shiny gold braids and buttons, leaning against a cannon mounted in a gilded marine artillery carriage.

Hi, I'm Lord Kittensworth, captain of the H.M.S. Auri Cutis. I know what a confusing, complicated place a ship can be when in a military engagement.
If you're defending a helpless merchant vessel from marauding pirates, make sure your cannon is properly secured to the carriage, because today's loose cannon is tomorrow's peg leg. Sail smart and please, remember: you can't kill a pirate without all your parts.

Suddenly (convenient), a swarm of termites gnaw away at Sem the poster's peg leg, causing him to fall over the edge of a pier and then promptly devoured by a pack of tiger sharks.

Elsewhere, on Pirate Captain 4.5's ship...

Cris: I hope we find a port where we can socialize with a bunch of other Pirate Captains like us!

Pirate Captain 4.5: But ye be not pirate--

MZZT: I hope this mission will get us double experience and all the pirate achievements.

Pirate Captain 4.5: Well ye plebs will certainly--

Semievil: I hope having this awesome peg-leg won't limit my ability to explore all the zones!

Pirate Captain 4.5: The what?

Semievil: Hey Ante, what gives? You're totally killing the fun! And my face.

The Pirate Captain 4.5 stands speechless as he watches Antestarr repeatedly attempt to stab Semievil in the face.

MZZT: No wait, I think Ante might be onto something. We could level up in minutes like this!

Antestarr turns to stab MZZT in the face repeatedly.

MZZT: Oh God, the pain!

Semievil: Yeah, not such a great idea now, is it?

Pirate-Captain 4.5 stood still a moment longer, then walked away to man the helm as if nothing was happening.

Cris: Hey guys, I think I see land approaching--ACK!

Cris is dragged into a brawl between Antestarr, MZZT and Semievil.

*cue Super Smash Bros. scene*

(NSN: Sorry for not having something better, but I felt I should post something until some other stuff sorts out...Also, I hate the poster characters. Hate.)

Pirate Captain 4.5: All righty Me'hardy's get off the ropes and down here

Our Heros comedic combat continues. Everyone's face is bleeding from many many wounds, but the rest of their bodies seem untouched. Except for Sem's peg leg that has been carved somehow into a beautiful mermaid...

Pirate Captin 4.5: I said GE DOWN HERE NOW

He stops his foot, sending the entirety of the ship rattling, and sends our heros sprawling in front of him.

Pirate Captain 4.5: That's better there me'hardys. Now then, we'll be hitting port in about 10 minutes

Sem: Hitting Port! Shouldn't we like, try to turn or something won't that crash the ship, isn't that bad for our health? What will we

Pirate Captain 4.5: Shuddup! Hit the port is an expression ye dratted Landlubber! Now listen. We be arriving at port in, well about 9 minutes now. You 4 scaliwag lanlubbers aren't enough to take the treasure, so we're going to need to recruit some more Capable Cuththroat Cohorts from Private Piraty Party Place at Peachwood, you here me?

Anestarr: Yes we need to get alliterated extras to die instead of us on a perlisous adventure from a comedicly named 'ellhole where I'm sure all sorts of wierd antics will go on. Since we all know adventures always start in Tavarns, can I suggest we go to one?

Captain 4.5: What in the world are you talking about? Oh... well I guess you are right. Anyway, leave the talking to me, you boys get shore leave for 5 hours, if you come back to me drunk I'll have you dragged outta the harbour behind me'ship, if you dno't come back drunk I'll have ye keelhauled.

Sem: Cap'n doesn't that mean no matter what we're goin to be draged behind the ship quite possibly to our death?

Pirate Captain 4.5: if ye keep buggering me then yes! Now get ready boys, it's time to disembark!

What's this, our heros are now coming into a generic yet commedically named pirate den to recruit more traouble makers. What crazy antics will they encounter, what fiendish and foul plots may they uncover. Who won the mellee they were just in? Find out the answers to these questions and more in the continuing Adventures of the NeS!

Back with Rachel, Soriel, and the rest--

Thrawnbot: Hey! I'm a more established character than either of those! Why am I getting lumped with "the rest" then?

Well, if you really must know, it's because you're getting thrown back to the Haunted House of Heroes.

Thrawnbot: What now?

Just then, a mystical dark swirl (known better as a plothole), sucks up Thrawn42689 and spits out BokkenMonkey in his place. The plothole then closes.

Bokken: Hot damn that hurt! Just my luck.

Rachel: What did you do?

Soriel: And didn't I tell you to stay and guard Geb?

Bokken: Uh...

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

Meanwhile, back at the Haunted House of Heroes...

Thrawnbot: Ugh. Now I'm back here and -- what the hell? An ant infestation? I HATE ANTS!

Thrawn42689 whips out a flamethrower.

Thrawnbot: Hasta la vista, baby!

He acts out his best Terminator impression on the fire ants.

Thrawnbot: ...I miss Ahnuld. And Granny Cal. Wait, what the hell am I saying? I must not be killing enough.

Thrawn32689 continues to inadvertently save Gebohq's life...

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

Bokken: Look, that doesn't matter. What matters is just as you all went through the Thingy, I tried to follow. It looked like you guys left this thing behind at the very least.

BokkenMonkey waves a high-tech compass-y box device, labelled "Plot Device Finder".

Bokken: But uh, I couldn't quite figure out how to work the teleporter-Thingy, so I sort of just mashed a bunch of buttons until I got here.

Rachel: Give me that!

Rachel jerks the Plot Device Finder from Bokken's grasp and looks at it.

Rachel: Well this is great. Apparently we're not even in the right dimension.

Soriel: So let's just plug in the right coordinates this time and be on our way.

Bokken: Yeah, uh... about that. Among some other things that may or may not be my fault, the Thingy may be a bit uh... broken now.

Rachel: What do you mean "broken?"

Soriel: I think somebody's spine is going to be broken the way things are going right now.

Just then, the Plot Device Finder blinks some random high-tech information, and another plothole opens up.

Bokken: Saved by the plothole. Everybody, jump in! This is our only chance of getting to where we want to be!

Rachel: You mean--

Bokken: We're stuck in a Sliders parody it seems, at least for the time being.

Rachel: The things I do for love...

Rachel jumps into the plothole. BokkenMonkey tries to offer Soriel to go next, but while stepping to the side, he trips and falls into the plothole.

Soriel: I better get to kill something soon...

Soriel jumps in the plothole as it closes behind him.

Where will Rachel, Soriel and Bokken be taken to next? FIND OUT IN THE CONTINUING ADVENTURES OF SLIDER--I mean--THE NEVER-ENDING STORY THREAD SQUARED!

((NSN: Until the other forums come back up to do a crossover, I figured I'd encourage this idea, inspired a bit by working with Britt's premature posting. Go nuts!))

Plothole Ensues!

Our intrepid travelers emerge from the plothole into a crowded area washed with bright white light that is coming from somewhere in the sky, despite the odd fact the sun can't actually be found at the light's source. The bright light has the washed out effect of a next generation videogame, a fact that is not helped by the hyper-futuristic city surrounding our heroes being made out of metal and chrome.

Rachel: So Bokken...you were saying?

Bokken looks up as a monorail passes by on the tracks high overhead.

Bokken: This doesn't look like home...

Just a few steps take them out from between two towers and to the cusp of what seems to be some kind of market place, which is strangely low-tech despite its surroundings; almost festival grade. Rachel, Bokken and Soriel find themselves surrounded by a veritable sea of people in multicolored jumpsuits. Everyone seems busy, although one person in particular seems to stick out like a sore thumb. This individual, rather than wearing a jumpsuit, is wearing a blue t-shirt with a red interlocking 'double A' symbol on the chest, a white shawl wrapped over his left shoulder and tied about his waist like a belt, blue jeans, and a basket-woven sword hilt with a broadsword sheathed in it, the hilt of which is heavily wrapped with cloth. He is also wearing a red headband, the streamers of which cascade down to about the middle of his back, only slightly impeded by the sword hilt strapped there. He is walking through the crowd in Bokken, Soriel, and Rachel's direction, pausing breifly to stare at each one's state of dress, finding that, like him, none are wearing their jumpsuits.

After an akward pause, he seems to remember something and holds up something where the three of them can see it.

AmazingAdrian: Oh! Hey, have any of you seen this cat?

He holds up a photograph of a cat that looks positively stupid. Not LoLcat stupid; the feline has a genuinely vacant stare and a lolling tongue. Well, maybe it WOULD make a good lolcat image, but this one isn't captioned.

AmazingAdrian: And has anyone heard of a guy named Don?


---------------- Now playing: DJ Jurgen present Alice Deejay - Better Off Alone via FoxyTunes

Just then a cat that appears to be the 7 toed cat from them pet store from the mall rubs up against Bokken.


"Mreow?"
translation: 'Hey what is the deal you guys leaving me behind with the zombies?'

The cat looks up at the photo. Sniffing at it and twitching his ears. "Meow"
'Is that my crazy uncle fluffy?'

The foursome stood amidst a sea of jump-suit-wearers, their clothes causing each one of them to stand-out like a red dot on a white sheet. Rachel wore her Chinese tunic and jeans whilst Bokken Monkey wore a pair of beige cargo pants and a dark overcoat. Soriel stood out even more so with his bright red cape tied about his neck and sheath hanging from his waist with no effort at concealment.

Rachel: "Uh... no. We don't know a Dom and no we haven't seen your..." She looked at the photograph again to ensure that she had seen the animal correctly. "...cat?"

Amazing Adrian: "Damn. I thought... with you being outsiders... you might have some id- Well, it doesn't matter. Do you know where we are?"

Bokken Monkey: "Was kinda hoping you might tell us."

Amazing Adrian: "Looks like we're all in the same boat-"

* * *

Semieval: "No, we're all in the same boat."

Pirate Captain 4.5: "Arg! It be a ship ye landlubbering oaf!"

Semieval: "Indeed! You're managing to keep it very much ship-shape! An impressive boat indeed!"

The Captain glared at Semieval as though he had just insulted his mother.

* * *

Amazing Adrian: "I'm actually trying to figure out how to get back to the Primary System-"

Bokken Monkey: "You mean Earth Prime?"

Amazing Adrian: "Uh... yeah sure, same thing. Anyway, something's gone wrong and I'm stranded here with no idea how to get back. I take it you were sucked in my a random Einstein-Rosen-Podolsky bridge too?"

Rachel: "You mean a random Plothole?"

Amazing Adrian: "Wormhole?"

Rachel: "Same thing."

Bokken Monkey: "OMG! A CAT WITH SEVEN TOES!!!"

In one of Bokken Monkey's sudden explosions of panic, a frequent breaker of his otherwise seemingly serene demeanour, he punted the genetic-anomaly-cat, which soared through the air with a loud wail.

Rachel: "Why the hell did you do that!?"

Bokken Monkey: "I dunno! I thought it was something trying to kill me again!"

Soriel: "Should have let me handle it. Heroic deeds are child's play."

Soriel cast his thumb across his chin and Rachel had a two-tiered thought as to why Soriel was playing 'the good guy' and why he was making such a ridiculous pose.

However, her train of thought was cut short by a mumbled 'uh-oh' from Bokken Monkey. The cat had sailed through the air and landed upon the face of what could only be a Police Officer. His black jump-suit was decorated by a shining gold star badge and a large baton hung from his hip. His face, now scratched and torn by the many claws that the many-toed cat possessed, was a picture of fury and his rage made the bleeding much worse than it ought to have been. In one quick motion, he released his baton from its holster and held it up when the foursome could see an electric field string to life around it.

Bokken Monkey: "I'm cursed. I'm cursed. I'm cursed!"

Soriel: "Quiet! I'll take care of this!"

The blood-hungry dealer-of-death clasped the hilt of Fred, Teh Uber Blade, when Rachel clasped his forearm.

Rachel: "Kill one copper and you'll have them all after us. I've a better idea, let's just peg it!"

Without waiting to see if any of the boys followed her lead, the Asian girl sped off, dashing through the crowds of jump-suits. The boys looked to one another as though seeking confirmation that they ought to follow the lady's lead.

Bokken Monkey gave a wild-eyed shrug, "I reckon she has the right idea."

He pelted. After a quick look toward the Police Officer charging straight at them, trying to decide whether or not he could kill the guy without Rachel or Bokken Monkey ever finding out. He would, however, then have to kill Amazing Adrian and then try to explain why the stranger hadn't followed them. That was far too much work. He ran.

Amazing Adrian whined to himself. He knew he was now lumbered with the miscreants and would be branded as 'one of them', despite the fact that he didn't even know any of their names. Unfortunately he doubted that the irate cop would listen to any talk of the Primary System or the Einstein-Rosen-Podolsky bridge like they would. He ran after them.

* * *

Meanwhile, on the pirate ship...

Cris: "Fifteen men on the dead man's chest-
Yo-ho-ho and a bottle of rum!"

Antestarr: "Drink and the devil had done for the rest-
Yo-ho-ho, and a bottle of rum!"

Pirate Captain 4.5: "Ye know, that song hath no meanin' 'ere? We ain't searchin' fer Cap'n Flint's treasure!"

Cris: ...

Antestarr: ...

Cris: "Fifteen men[...]!"

* * *

Amazing Adrian found that he had long ago left the market behind him and, having made a series of snap glances, found that the Police Officer was nowhere in sight. However, as he continued to run, he realised that he had also lost sight of the other Sliders- Uh, I mean dimension travellers.

He came to an eventual halt, inhaling deeply to try and catch his breath. The alley he found himself in was dark and damp, and yet there was still traces of the strangely futuristic asthetics as the dumpsters all appeared to have once been shiny and sleek, yet years of service rendered them mucked and dirty. He took a few small, slow steps further in when something caught his eye up-ahead. A red Chinese tunic glared out of the shadows.

Rachel: "Took your time."

Amazing Adrian: "Sorry, must have gotten lost a bit. Where's the other guy?"

Bokken Monkey: "Rachel sent Soriel to have a quick scout around to see if there's another plothole around."

Amazing Adrian: "You mean wormhole?"

Rachel: "Same thing."

Amazing: "Yeah that's right. Like you said. Weird thing to call it though..."

Before Rachel could explain the higher functions and mechanisms of the NeS, one of those larger plot elements landed right before them.

Thug #1: "Wew wew. Wha' 'ave we 'ere then?"

Rachel: "Other than the abuse of the English language?"

Thug #2: "Oi! We 'appen t' be genuine cockney lads, we does! More English than any o' you lot, I bet!"

Thug #3: "Yeah! And we're 'ere t' rob y' an' awl!"

Thug #2: "God, Thug #3! D'you 'av t' ruin every conversation we star'? It's awl business t' you innit?"

Thug #3: "Aw, c'mon mate! Y' jus' toyin' wiv 'em! We ough' t' jus' be done wiv it!"

Thug #2: "Naw mate! It's way more fun talkin' t' some o' these mugs than you pair o' plonkers. Theys go' a bi' o' refinary to 'em, they 'as!"

Amazing Adrian: "What are they saying? Are they Spanish?"

Rachel: "Uh..."

Meanwhile (NeS count disabled- Memory error on internet: capacity exceeded), somewhere in the Mediterranean, the last stone of The Arena (patent pending) is laid into place as Ares, the god of War (and farm implements) surveys his new masterpiece...

Ares: “No, no, you idiot! Tab lambda goes into slot omega! Omega! Yes! That's it! At long last, my The Arena (patent pending) is complete! I knew saving up all those box tops was worth it! Now I have only to find warriors of great skill and competence to cross swords in epic yet hopelessly predictable battles!”

As our intrepid heroes skillfully maneuver their vessel ashore, bypassing the docks and splintering the keel in water way too shallow, they notice that The Arena (patent pending) overshadows the town. Pirate Captain 4.5 surveys his wrecked vessel and breaks down sobbing as the others begin exploring. Before long Ares blocks their path.

Ares: “Well met adventurers! Do you seek wealth, power and glory beyond reckoning?”

Ford: “Do we ever!”

Sem: “I was wondering when we'd find a decent quest.”

Minutes later, the heroes are suiting up for battle. The room is cramped with other fighters, apparently all on the same team. Most bear scars of many battles.

Random Gladiator 03: “Man I hope we don't get nerfed again, these fights are tough enough as it is.”

Random Gladiator 27: “I know! These fights are one-sided enough as it is.

Sem: “Nerfed?”

Wizened Mentor 01: “Ares sometimes uses his administrative powers to make the fights... less than balanced. 03 over there got sent out last week with only a rock to fight 30 mounted soldiers.”

Ante: “How did he survive?”

WM01: “He didn't. It took all week to get him reassembled and they resurrected him this morning. Not to worry, you'll get your loot- it's just a lot of swinging weapons and dying along the way.

Ford: “What kind of loot are we talking about here?

The Wizened Mentor holds out his hand, which bears a dull brass ring.

WM01: “This baby here- it lets me resurrect myself if I die. Only took 10,000 fights to earn.”

Ford: “How do you use it when you're dead?”

Ante: “How would he use it when he was alive?”

Sem: “Didn't you say they bring you back anyway? What's the point?”

WM01: “It means I'm epic and hardcore. You'll notice there isn't a “Wizened Mentor 02” anywhere around either- that took me 25,000. Oh hey, you're up; don't want to miss your que.”

Suddenly Sem finds himself pushed into the open air. An iron gate slams behind him, and before him are five rabid tigers. Reaching into his coat, he quickly pulls out the first thing he lays his hand on- a water spritzer with a broken bottle.

Sem: “Fuq.”

***

As AmazingAdrian and Rachel debate the thug's diction, Bokken looks around to notice Soriel leaning around the edge of the building with his sword, trying to sneak up on the thugs from the other side of the alley. Bokken makes a strained face and tries to get his two companion's attention, though they only notice Soriel when he lets out a battle cry and rushes the thugs, his sword raised.

Rachel: "Yikes!"

AmazingAdrian grabs Rachel under her arms and lifts her up into the air, actually flying up over the thugs heads as the first one is pushed into the area where Rachel used to be standing.

Bokken: "Hey, don't forget meee!"

Bokken jumps up and grabs Rachel's legs, causing AmazingAdrian to grunt as he has to work against the extra weight. Straining, he slowly lifts the two of them to one of the buildings roofs as the sounds of English fighting rise up from the alley.

***

Ares slouched in his seat and pouted as he watched SemiEvil's panicked run around the arena.

Ares: "Oh for crying out loud! Be more epic! I didn't build this Arena(tm) for nothing, you know!"

SemiEvil trips as his foot catches on something half buried in the sand. Hopefully it was a useful weapon!

---------------- Now playing: REM - Losing My Religion via FoxyTunes