The beer came. Some sort of crude American lager, dark and thick as mud. It tasted about the same, too. With it came an appletini, which the waiter handed to the lank haired fellow that had insisted they sit in this dim corner.

Identity : BEER!

Sup : Yes. Yes. Drink your beer.

Sup sipped his appletini in a slightly effeminate manner.

Identity : BORED.

Sup : Drink your beer, ID. This is page twenty-six. Society declares we must celebrate.

Identity and Sup are similiar looking young men, in the way that a fine greco-roman statue resembles the block of raw granite it was hewn from. Sup has long black hair, combed forward over his face. He is scrawny, dressed in nothing but black. He's a handsome young man, but he doesn't really care. He doesn't cut himself, that would require care.
Identity is twice his size, four times as muscular, and at least eight times as hairy.

Identity : BEER GONE. POST 1000 SUCK. SMASH.

In another time and place, Ford and the others continue to battle Cthulhu in their giant robot mech, deep in an ill-lit, underground area.

A metal arm swings down against a mass of Cthuluian flesh, shuddering the cavernous space!

A tentacle whips across a mechanical joint, creating a wet thunderclap of chaos!

Shove!

Crunch!

Shake!

Grapple!

Uh... is that something we should be seeing?

...I'm not really sure what's going on anymore. I'm not sure if it's because a fight with an ancient inter-dimensional creature such as Cthulhu cannot be comprehended by mortal minds, or if it's because the camera is too close and shaking like it's in an earthquake.

Ford: Doesn't anyone have a better idea? Anything that could help us out?

Ante: Well, I made a DeLorean car out of some spare parts lying around, but it can only go up to 87 miles per hour.

Cris: I have a pirate beard!

Ford: Yeah...that's useful.

MZZT: No, wait! We might have something here. But uh... you're not going to like it.

Ford: I'll do whatever it takes, so long as it gets us out of this mess!

MZZT: Good, because I wasn't ready to do what it takes. Here's my idea...

What's The Mega_ZZTer's plan of action? Stay tuned, avid readers, and find out!

And after another zip-pan back to Hedgestone University, Soriel and the others can be seen watching the fight between their comrades and their opponents.

Soriel: So... Tiger, is it?

Tiger: Yes?

Soriel: Remind me what you and your two friends are here about?

Tiger: We're saving a friend -- Geb. He's a friend of you all too, if I recall right. Also, there's likely some wrongful mucking with this Story Arcade game system as well, and it's our job to keep gaming systems as they were intended, being gaming guardians and whatnot.

Soriel: I see. As "gaming guardians" then, shouldn't you all have some better method then what appears to be just 'playing the game' to fix all this? Like cheat codes or loaded dice or something?

Tiger: Well yes, but-- wait a minute. You aren't from this gaming system either, right?

Soriel: I suppose not...

Tiger: So then why are you all just walking about as if some plot told you to do so? Can't you decide to just hitchhike or walk a hundred miles in a hundred words or whatever it is you all do?

Soriel: Well yes, but--

Tiger and Soriel look at each other as if they both just saw an attractive nude woman walk by that no one else saw. Bokken, meanwhile, had his attention turned to an attractive, not-so-nude woman...

Bokken: So, Lucy, seems Otto has his sights set on that new girl there. Tough break, huh? I know how that can be...

(NSN: Just a reminder in story-form that, while I may have a train of thought I'm following in more ways than one, you all should not feel "lost" in trying to follow my plans and instead be sure to take whatever route you think works dramatically and in a fun way to Vice in his Lost Beta HQ, the Stark Stronghold of Starkness! The NeS is about improvisation after all!)

(NSN: A post from Tiger.)

The struggle commences between those who would preserve the sanctity of academia and those who would exploit it for profit! (Or in Mr. Take’s case, so as not to incur the wrath of Lost Beta.)

Buck, addressing May: Speaking of which, you realize there’s more at sake here than just these sanctioned fights?

May B.: I realize that you help to promote violence and suffering, and I won’t stand for it!

The very determined picket-sign-wielding cleric stands to the fore of the heroic formation to one side of the circle, facing off against an equally determined bespectacled and indeed seemingly the most underpowered member of the opposing team…

Buck: Hey wait! Why didn’t I get any powers?!

Because narrating you into a role distracts too much from the main story.

Relapse: And what’s going on right now isn’t distracting from the main story?

It’s a side quest. You get to gain more experience, right? So no complaining.

Relapse: *murmurs something about assassinating someone in their sleep*

As I was saying, the two opposing teams face off for the final, decisive battle to determine the fate of the University. Totty Lee Tuul Evil (let’s abbreviate it to TLTENecromancer) makes a particularly menacing face at Adrian as she slinks up behind Buck in her stooped posture. She seems overly excited and ferocious, barely able to contain herself for want of bloodshed.

Actually, it’s rather reminiscent of a certain someone in the spectator section--

Soliel: Are you implying something?

Not at all. NLTENecromancer’s personal minions, Knear and Mark, by contrast, seem rather passive and uninterested about the whole affair. They stand to either side of their NLTE brother with cool expressions on their faces. In truth the both of them, being undead, are completely under the thrall of their mistress (or master, whichever gender she is truly). They are nothing more than soulless, mindless puppets who serve no greater purpose than that of expendable cohorts, and indeed they are of no real significances to the story at all. This is certainly not an attempt on the author’s part to forego taking the effort to develop their perspective characters, and indeed we can expect these two individuals to be killed off right from the beginning.

Thus, as there is no real need to pay them too much attention, because they aren’t going to last very long regardless, right?

Mark, to Knear: See? You hear that? I told you this was gonna be some more bull****.

Knear: Fine! You were right, again. We never should have come here.

Mark: Never should have come?? We were on our way to get boozed up. I let you drag my @$$ out of bed, out of the apartment, onto a twelve hour train ride, and we ended up at some ****ing high school??[/i]

Knear: It’s a college, genius. And I told you we were going to a party—

Uh, hello?! Canon fodder isn’t allowed to speak. Now then, Buck, despite his… disadvantage, seemed quite confident about the situation. In a haughty gesture he presses his glasses a little further up his nose. The lenses suddenly catch a glare, obscuring his eyes in an ominous fashion.

Buck: I’m sorry, Ms. Childe. I truly am. I was going to humor you, perhaps give you a chance to reconsider.

May: You were going to sick your guards on me!

Buck: I was going to be merciful. But you forced my hand.

Then he tilts his head down so as to peer over his glasses at her.

Buck: Did you ever stop to consider the real reason I accepted this match?

Adrian: Because it’s the easiest way to settle things with the protest, right? It’s obvious—

Rachel: Wrong. Something’s not right here. He… he doesn’t seem like the kind of person who would pick a fight, and especially at such high stakes, unless he’s certain that he could win…

Relapse, looking over the TLTEs: I know this’ll sound conceited on my part, but really they don’t look all that tough to me. Between Adrian and myself, we can—

Rachel: I’m not talking about them.

A fiendish grin spreads across Buck’s face.

Buck: It looks like she’s figured it out?

May: Huh? What’s going on?

Rachel: Didn’t Theo say he was rich…?

Buck: Truly, the most powerful and certainly the most potent power of all…

Adrian: …Wealth!

Theo: He alone is more powerful than all of us combined.

Relapse: … This system is retarded.

Ralapse gently combs his mask-beard with his fingers in contemplation.

Rachel: Huh! That makes sense. He could pay off the audience, Red, and even a lot of Lost Beta to fight his battle for him. And given the resources at his disposal…

Adrian: So your saying he could do something like call in a missile strike any time he wants to?

Rachel: Well I’m not saying that. …not quite.

Buck: So what will it be, Ms. Childe? You heard her. I can even pay off your teammates, and even offer them more fights, whenever and however they want them! In the end, and as always, you’re all alone. So tell me, do you still want to challenge me?

Mark: What the **** happened just now?

Knear: Shh! If this goes well we probably won’t have to die after all…

May Childe suddenly, explicably finds her resolve shaken! And the heroes find themselves facing down an unlikely and even more formidable foe than the last! The battle has not quite begun, but yet with this latest and most dire obstacle in their path, have our heroes finally reached the end of their quest?

What will become of May and the University? Of our unfortunate expendable undead clones? And what’s the story behind Totty Lee Tuuli Evil? Is there more to her than what meets the eye?

To be continued…

-----------

Meanwhile, on the sidelines, the rest of the party is more or less not paying the battle any attention at all. Well, none save Lucy. While Bokken proceeds to crash and burn in his efforts of enticing the attractive Lucy, Tiger and Soliel engage in a heated discussion.

Tiger: You want to just, like, fly there? Do ya even know where their base is?

Soliel: Well yes. Didn’t you see the last GM post?

Tiger: What?

Soliel: Wha?

Tiger: Look, our teammates are still preoccupied or something. ‘Sides, it’s been forever since I ate.

Soliel: You mean an hour ago?

Tiger: Like I said, can’t fly on an empty tank.

Lucy: What’re you all talking about?

Soliel: We’re going to see Vice.

Tiger: No, we ain’t.

Lucy: But K. Sa’dia Red said we needed to win one more fight--

Soliel: And we will! By the time we arrive to Lost Beta’s stronghold, they’d have won the fight, and we get to see Vice.

Bokken: I’m not entirely sure that’s a good idea.

Soliel: I never said we were taking you along.

Bokken: No, I mean driving the dragon there.

Tiger: Hey! I already apologized about the chair, like, a million times!

Fred The Uber Sword: Lucy comes with us.

Soliel: Yes. She can show us the way.

Lucy: Uh.. no, I think you just follow the tracks.

Tiger: No seriously. I got this mission thingy going on right now. Geb’s in trouble and we dun got time to be roadtrippin’ to Vice City…

Bokken: Was that a joke?

Tiger: A joke? Wha?

Bokken: Oh, peachy.

Soriel: Look, Tiger. Lucy.

Soriel straitens into his serious-posture of seriousness, as if about to give an impressive and lengthy speech. Tiger, Bokken, Lucy and various nearby TLTEStudents brace themselves.

Soriel: We’re all after the same thing-

Tiger: Ooh, hang on! Lemme stop you right there. No we ain’t.

Bokken: I take it you want to go to the stronghold because there’s more people there to kill than there are at this place.

Soriel: Okay, fine! So we’re all sort of, almost after the same thing. Tiger here wants to eat, Lucy needs to find her brother, and I just wanna slay things. But look, we can all find those things at the Lost Beta headquarters. We’re united in that at least, right?

Bokken: Well I suppose.

Lucy: That’s a good point.

Tiger: I dunno..

Soriel: And it’ll all happen sooner if we just leave now. Don’t worry, the drunk, ninja, hero, and wench can handle themselves.

Soriel approaches Lucy, gently grasps her shoulders in an uncharacteristically comforting yet solemn manner.

Soriel: I know you are concerned about your boyfriend over there.

Lucy: He isn’t my bo-

Soriel: But your brother is more important, right?

Lucy, now a little convinced: Well.. yes, he is.

Tiger: But your forgettin’ that I didn’t agree to take ya’ll.

Soriel, to Tiger: I’ll buy you a meal from Sonic.

Tiger: Right on!

Bokken: But Rachel has the plot device.. machine.

Soriel: Which has been useless ever since the Horrific Tower of Horror. And also, who said you were coming?

And so, Bokken Monkey, as newly appointed Party Leader, sets out with the newly formed team to confront the evil Vice!

Soriel: What the frick?!

Bokken: I guess I’m party leader now. Joy..

Soriel: I swear that guy’s screwing with me.

Tiger: Hurry up! Sonic closes in a few hours.

A now conspicuously dragon-sized dragon heads for the train with Bokken, Lucy, and a grumbling Soriel in tow. The party has split up? What will happen next?

Otto: "You know, I quite like this leather stuff. I feel quite liberated..."

The crowd fell to a hush, many wearing shocked expressions, others ashamed.

Theo Otto: "What? C'mon! Bloody tourists!"

Buck Takes: "Right... whatever. Look, how's about we settle this now then, eh? How much d' y'all want?"

Buck Takes took out his cheque book and began penning names down, dabbing his fingers upon his tongue as he turned each sheet. The scent of money clung to his personage, intoxicating those around him. This man wasn't just rich. He was phooking rich!

Buck Takes: "Ain't I just? So, who's first?"

Theo Otto: "I'll take payment in booze. Some whisky should do the trick. Good Scottish stuff. Puts hair on your chest."

May B. Child: "Theo!"

Theo Otto: "What?"

May B. Child: "We won't be taking any of your money!"

Relapse: "Actually I'll take whatever you want to give me, as long as I don't have to wear this rubber duck anymore..."

Relapse tugged ineffectually at the rubber duck hat, which made a forlorn squeak of despair. Apparently the duck was none-to-pleased about this arrangement either, despite being made of rubber. Or plastic... Why the hell are they called rubber ducks at all? Plastic ducks would make more sense! Rubber ducks my ar-

Relapse: "Uh, does it matter?"

Of course it bloody matters! You don't call a lampshade a turnip, do you!?

Relapse: "...I guess."

Right! And I don't want to hear 'it used to be made of rubber' bollocks! It's not now, so change the God damn name, will you!?

Relapse: "You know, on second thoughts, forget the money. I'll keep the duck if it shuts this guy up."

May B. Child: "Wise decision."

Buck Takes: "How about if I pay the narrator too then?"

Oh? Now you're talking!

Buck Takes: "How much?"

May B. Child: "No! Narrator, shut up! Stop getting involved! Or else we'll forgo narration for the rest of this entire frigging post!"

...

...

Buck Takes: "Well?"

Buy me my own storyline?

May B. Child: "That's it! No more narrator for this post! And as for you-!"

Buck Takes: "Nooooo!"

Adrian: "You know, without narration none of the readers knows what just happened."

Theo Otto: "Leave 'um guessin'. See what their twisted minds come up with."

May B. Child: "Okay, for the sake of the audience, I just groaned at Theo's comment. Secondly I ripped up Buck's cheque book. He's powerless without it!"

Buck Takes: "Not just yet, missy! I have my last resort! Look at this!"

May B. Child: "Gah!"

Relapse: "Whoa!"

Adrian: "Cripes!"

Theo Otto: "Woo! Work that thang!"

Rachel: "Oh yeah, I forgot I was here."

May B. Child: "He whipped out a briefcase full of cash..."

Theo Otto: "So you'd like them to believe..."

May B. Child: "Grah! Fine! Narrator!!"

...

May B. Child: "Okay, I'm sorry! Please come back?"

...

May B. Child: "Just for one line?"

... It was a briefcase brimming with cash.

May B. Child: "Thank you."

Theo Otto: "Spoil sport."

Buck Takes: "Hahahaha! With the amount of dough I have in this case I could buy the NeS ten times over!!"

Theo Otto: "Huh, can't be very much then..."

Buck Takes: "Urgh. Fine. I could buy the NeS, the Story Arcade, Gaming Guardians, the NeS-Writer's world, the universe, every universe! Whatever! I could buy everything! These are million dollar bills! Each one! And I have millions of them! Bwahahahaha!"

Mark: "Yoink!"

Knear: "Leg it!"

The minor characters scarper, toting their newly acquired funds and sporting ideas of buying out of their red-shirt and into something black. Black's sexy.

Rachel: "Welcome back."

Thank you.

Buck Takes: "It... it's not over yet... I still have... Totty..."

Rachel: "Excuse me!?"

Buck Takes: "No-! I meant her!"

TLTENecromancer: "Actually if there's no dosh, there's no killing heroes."

Buck Takes: "What? Oh c'mon!"

TLTENecromancer: "Sorry."

Buck Takes: "And you?"

TLTERandom: "Uh... I'm just an NPC. Red-shirt, you know?"

May B. Child: "We win."

Adrian: "I'm a bit disappointed actually. Look, I had a really cool sword and everything! I didn't even get to swipe it once!"

Theo Otto: "Yeah... tell me about it."

Without further warning, Theo marched up to Buck and bottled him.

May B. Child: "What the Hell!?"

Theo shrugged.

TLTERandom was caught by a random shard of the bottle and died.

TLTERandom: "No way! Urk!"

Red: "Uh... winners! I guess..."

Rachel: "Yay... let's go."

May B. Child: "Where?"

Rachel: "Well- wait. Did our group get smaller?"

There is no closing paragraph. I'm still in a mood with you.

May B. Child: "I said I was sorry!"

So, elsewhere...

Lucy: "This reminds me of the Never-ending Story!"

Soriel: "That's because you're in it!"

Lucy: "No no! I meant the film!"

The newly formed band of heroes were flying through the skies, wind billowing around them. Soriel, Lucy and Bokken Monkey clung to the back of the enormous dragon, pressing low to his back and broad, excited grins on their faces.

Soriel: "I smell copyright infringement!"

-----

Back at Hengestone, Buck Takes, who was lying in a pool of his own blood after having received a Newcastle welcome with a large, thick bottle of Newky Brown, suddenly came up with a plan to make all of his money back!

-----

The NeS Writers scoffed at the idea of being sued by their own character. But then cast nervous glances at one another.

-----

Bokken's bad luck had caused him to tumble from the back of Tiger several times and the great dragon had to turn and swoop to catch the unlucky sod. However he is the leader of this merry troop and he managed to appear defiantly heroic each time!

Soriel: "Yeah right! He fell like a rag doll!"

Fred: "Hey, this chick has got one sweet behind! Get up nice and close behind her, Sor-Sor." [/size]

Soriel: "Don't call me that."

Fred: "Fine, whatever. Just check that out! Oooo, imagine grabbing a hand full of th-" [/size]

Soriel: "I am not going to grab Lucy's backside! No matter how nice... it... is..."

All eyes were on the warrior, who appeared to be talking to himself (again). Even Tiger had managed to twist his neck right around to cast a shocked expression at Soriel. Not that anyone save Tiger would know that because dragon-expressions don't register very well with anything other than a dragon. And even then not so well. It's the eye-ridges. Constantly look angry because of them...

Lucy: "I'll pretend I didn't hear that."

Soriel: "I was talking to Fred! It was his idea."

Lucy, although deeply concerned by this latest instalment, couldn't help but feel flattered and made a conscious effort to ensure her rear was, at least, displayed at its best. She then found her cheeks burning crimson as the other heroes listened in on the narration.

Lucy: "Stupid..."

Tiger: "Nearly there now. Look down below."

They did and everyone instantly regretted it as they all lurched straight back with groans of terror.

Tiger: "Wusses."

The Stronghold of Starkness lay ahead of them as Tiger steered himself towards it. Each powerful beat of the dragon's large wings took them a step closer to their goal. Or rather a fly closer. Beat closer. Wing-span closer.

Lucy: "Whatever!"

Lucy snapped at the narrator, still angry that her inner feelings had been publicly revealed. She then proceeded to grumble, consider yelling again, but ultimately knew it was a futile battle.

Bokken Monkey: "So this is the Stronghold of Starkness?"

Tiger: "Yeah. You can tell because it's so... stark."

Bokken Monkey: "That joke was too obvious."

Tiger: "Sorry."

Soriel: "Hey, don't you think this place looks like The Forbidden Fortress of Forbideness that was in Chapter Six?"

Lucy: "What?"

Bokken Monkey: "You weren't even around then! How'd you know about that?"

Soriel shrugged.

Soriel: "Plot device or something. We'll probably run into some character or another that was in that Chapter. Kind of a comeback episode. The Writer're are probably trying to show that there is some kind of great interlocking relationship between all these Chapters. They're not just a brunch of random crap that happens each time as randomly as bird shi-!"

A great blob of white landed upon the knowing head of Bokken Monkey, who scowled at Soriel."

Bokken Monkey: "You just had to say it, didn't you? You just jinxed me! You should know by now!"

Tiger came down low in a graceful swoop and landed upon the stone floor of the Stronghold. Or at least that was how he imagined it, instead he skidded across the floor and sent his passengers flying every-which-way. This was a good turn for Lucy who had been considering how best to dismount the dragon if Soriel had gotten off first. Now she didn't need to worry about how her bottom looked. Now she was concerned how her whole personage looked as it flailed through the air.

In true Carry On style, Lucy landed on Soriel, chest first. There was a lot of struggling and wriggling before Lucy managed to pull her chest from Soriel's face, an endeavour that Soriel felt Lucy made much more prolonged than would normally have occurred. Even with her modest clothing of T-shirt and jacket, a woman with a bosom as ample as Lucy's meant Soriel had been lost for the duration and decided pushing the girl off of his face would make things worse.

Bokken Monkey: "You two finished?"

Of course Bokken's words were flushed with jealousy.

Bokken Monkey: "No they weren't! You lie! I am the unluckiest person in the NeS! I'd be lucky to get one of those Last True Trannies from before!"

Okay fine. But Tiger-

Tiger: "Don't even think about it. I know better than to get involved with main characters from foreign gaming systems."

Damn. Soriel, however, had no excuse and was eagerly egged on by the now overly enthusiastic Fred Teh Uber Blade.

Fred: "Hell yeah! Well done, Sor-Sor! When we loose these two smucks, move in for the kill and nail this babe!" [/size]

Soriel: "SILENCE!"

Of course, Lucy's sense of modesty and low-self-opinion kept her feet on the floor. And yet even she couldn't deny that she enjoyed the attention of a man. Even if he was a psychotic killer that talked to his sword.

Tiger: "Uh, this is starting to sound like some kind of RomCom. Can we get on with this please?"

As they all turned to enter the Stronghold, a shadow cast over the group.

Tiger: "There's the cliff-hanger."

Join us next time on The Never-Ending Story! Not the film, the forum!

*Ford, Mzzt, Cris, Ante and the Semsquatch materialize into NeS headquarters just like on Star Trek!*

Antestarr: There's no place like home!

Cris: I was just about to say that!

Antestarr: Say what?

Cris: 'There's no place like home'. I thought of it right when MZZT started the time-travel machine. We were going to blorp into existence here and then everyone would pause and I would say 'there's no place like home!' and everyone would laugh and then you'd smack me up some high fives.

*Ante is too dumbfounded to speak.*

Cris: It was going to be a catchphrase.

Antestarr: I don't even remember how or why you got on this elite hero team.

Cris: That's because I don't have a catchphrase!

Antestarr: Uh, right. Whatever.

Cris: Look, can we just teleport back and then return again so I can say it?

Ford: No!

Antestarr: No!

Semsquatch: Ruf uf!

*Sem shakes his shaggy mane for an emphatic 'no'.*

MZZT: It's all academic anyway as my unique time-travel formula requires several difficult to get items including a pirate beard, the power core from a future robot wars mech, a DeLorean car and three liters of dimension X Cthulu milk.

Ford: Yeah, and even if we could go back I am *not* milking that guy again.

Cris: Okay, wait. Just pretend we beamed in now and nobody said anything yet.

*Ante rolls his eyes and approaches the tank in which Gebohq floats in suspended animation. He briefly activates the mounted computer console.*

Antestarr: Well, all the readouts look good. Fearless leader seems to be keeping on.

*Sem lets out a mournful howl.*

Antestarr: Yeah, you said it Chewie - uh, Sem.

Cris: Alright, here we go! MROWMOWMOWMOWMOWMOWMOW!

*This gets everybody's attention. Cris smiles and gives Ante a nudge.*

Cris: (whispering) Say 'we have arrived in the future'.

Antestarr: What? Why?

Cris: (whispering) Just say it.

Antestarr: ...there are no words.

MZZT: Plus this isn't the future anymore.

*Cris' smile falls into a look of befuddlement.*

Cris: Whoa, you're right.

Ford: Hey, didn't we used to work for some company with something? And they paid us with things?

Antestarr: Now that you mention it, I do kind of recall a guy. But not what he said.

MZZT: I remember there was beer.

Ford: Yes! There were definitely things about beer.

Antestarr: Well, it can't have been too big a deal. The important thing is to find a way to save Gebohq.

*Cris B clears his throat.*

Cris: We have arrived in the present, which only moments ago was the far future but no longer holds that distinction because we live here. Truly, comrades, there's no place like home! Aw yeah.

*Meanwhile at Sir Stafford's bad evil headquarters...*

Otter: Okay, let's lock and load. We are weapons-free, people!

Voodoo: I think you said that one already.

*Otter slaps a fresh mag in his rifle and checks his plasma grenades.*

Otter: But this time I'm serious. That chance encounter with my old highschool chum has made me realize that it's time for me, Frederick J. Otter, to stand up and reach my full potential!

Ben: Hey.

Otter: Yes, it's time for me to become...a hero!

*Next time on NES, Otter explains his transformation in song!*

But first, we turn back to those still in the Haunted House of Heroes, where Antestarr, Ford, Cris, The Mega_ZZTer and Semsquatch just finished changing their outfits from their time in the Renaissance Golden Age of Pirates.

MZZT: So I suppose if we want to follow Geb's love interest and the others looking to save him, it should be pretty easy to track them with--

Ante: We're not going into the Story Arcade. Our best bet right now is to take up the one mission at that Stafford guy's place that the Patriot mentioned before.

MZZT: It is?

Ford: You've lost me there too, Antestarr.

Ante: It's simple, really. When charged with a "main quest" like saving Gebohq, it's far more important to complete all the side quests beforehand. Since Geb's existence-destroying love interest and some others are already on that path, they may be mere minutes away from the end of that main quest, and if we don't complete the side quests first, they may very well fail.

Silence.

Ford: Sure, ok.

Cris: Wait, what? How does that make sense?

Ante: Look, there's still a lot of experience and loot to be had if we head out to Stafford's place now. Geb will be fine.

Cris: But he's in that life support thing! His life is hanging by a thread!

Ante: As do all our lives - what a joke. Seriously though, if he didn't die when Helebon held him captive, and he didn't die when he was killed in NeShattered, and if he didn't die after that existence-threatening love fling with Rachel and yet with all of us still alive, I think he'll be fine this time too. Unfortunately.

MZZT: What was that?

Ante: Nothing. Let's just get going before--

Young: Antestarr!

Ante: Dammit.

Young, Thrawnbot, and Krig enter the scene.

Young: It's good to see you again.

Antestarr responds with a heartfelt hug. He then places one hand on her bulging stomach and the other hand through the hair by her ear.

Ante: I'm sorry I haven't been around for you, and I'm not making it any better by leaving again. If you've learned anything, though, you know that your life is what you make of it, not what the writers or anyone else tries to make of it for you. I would just be controlling your life if I was around, as would anyone else. At the very least, however, someone should be ready by your side...

Young looks up at Antestarr, who returns the look longingly before turning to Thrawnbot.

Ante: Thrawn, if you could...

Thrawnbot: I've already been looking over her, sir.

Ante: Good, good.

Antestarr stifles a cough, and surreptitiously wipes his arm against his side.

Ante: Do you have what I asked for, by the way? From Siberia?

Thrawnbot hands Antestarr a metal bottle-like canister. Antestarr flips the top to reveal a short straw attachment, which he proceeds to drink from with some difficulty.

Cris: What is that? Some sort of Siberian slushie or something?

Ante: Something like that. Let's get going, folks. You too, Sem.

Semsquatch, having spent his short attention span with Krig, pouts.

Ford: Does anyone else notice the similarity between the two of them?

Ante: Time for obvious observations later, side quest time now.

Young: Maybe we can--

Ante: No! I mean, you're carrying a child now. You and Thrawn should stay here, and keep Krig from eating TLTE's not-so-prize-winning garden.

Krig: Ooo, food!

Krig runs out, and Semsquatch is about to follow when Antestarr pulls out a Coke can from Sem's trenchcoat (which currently is fitting Semsquatch like a shirt).

Ante: Sem, look! Shiny!

Semsquatch: Ooo.

Ante: Quick, this way!

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

Back at Sir Stafford's Super-Sized Side-Quest-Supplying Sanctioned Station, The Otter is about ready to burst out in song when he is interrupted by the arrival of Antestarr, Ford, The Mega_ZZTer and Cris.

Maybe: Thank God. But Ford, what are you all doing here?

Ben: You know these people?

Otter: Yeah, we know them, Ben. I've been tagging along with most of them since the end of 1999.

Ford: You don't mind, do you? We're just here for the experience like everyone else.

Cris: Hey, where did my wallet go?

Ben returns the wallet back to Cris.

Ben: Sorry, bad habit.

Otter: Well if that's all, I was just starting to sing about my rise to heroism. Ahem. I--

The Otter is interrupted once again, though, by a nearby television monitor on the wall turning on to reveal Mr. Stafford, a typical-enough looking type for someone who is a C.E.O. of the Damned Company with a hint of worn, mercenary weight in his face.

Stafford: Hello there. I figured I'd finally drop a line before things got too boring. Now let's see here...

Mr. Stafford flips through a script.

Stafford: Alright, first I have to appear as if I've finished having an important conversation with the Globalists... can you all see the shadowy cabinet of ominous figures at the table behind me?

The NeS hero-types look at each other, nodding hesitantly.

Stafford: OK, then I check to make sure none of you are trying to pull a Geb and high-tail it before the fun can begin. Who do we all got here... Antestarr?

Antestarr, a NeS veteran having filled the roles of leader, pirate, scholar, disciple, inventor, and all-around badass, stands calmly in his light brown leather jacket-over-blue shirt and black jeans.

Stafford: Check. Otter...

Fredrick J. Otter, better known to us as The Otter, steps forward in his characteristic black bowler hat, shades, and punk-posh attire, flask in hand by his hip.

Stafford: Check. Ford...

The full-time scholar Ford, wearing a parchment-colored shirt covered in arcane symbols, looks up above the rims of his glasses.

Stafford: Check. Ben, is it?

Benjamin Mahir, a short, street-living resident thief with the ability to change into a street rat (literally), looks nervously about at hearing his name.

Stafford: Check. Ricky...

The ambiguously-gendered denizen of New Jersey, Ricky, known as Red when serving at a Denny's, also shifts her non-blinking eyes back and forth as well as her posture while donned in her olive button-down shirt and cowboy hat.

Stafford: Doesn't look like a Ricky to me, but whatever, check. MZZT...

The Mega_ZZTer, or MZZT, easily observable as the group's tech-guy, continues to look at his custom-made PDA.

Stafford: Checkers. Semievil...?

Semievil, usually one to look like a large, skeletal old man in a modern day techno-mage outfit, now appears as Semsquatch, a hulking (if still slouching) Bigfoot-type creature wearing a trenchcoat for a shirt. He does his best Chewbacca impression.

Ante: Sem's the big furball.

Maybe: I was wondering about that.

Stafford: I see. And I see that Maybe is here...

Known best as Maybechild, Maybelle Child pushes back her squirrel-y red hair behind her small frame. The fact that she often serves both Mother Earth and Mother-of-the-Irresponsible-Main-Characters is evident in her face.

Stafford: ...so we can check that off. And I believe you are...Cris, yes?

Cris Delrune B., owner of Cris B. Chikin, waves enthusiastically in his white dress shirt, red tie and black dress pants, giving off a presence that exudes a confidence that only seems to influence him... most of the time, at least.

Stafford: Right then. And last, but certainly not least, Voodoo.

The former Convenience Store of the Damned deli worker Voodoosnowflakes, her overweight figure still apparent under her white terrycloth robe that she's worn these days as her regular sleeping attire and which she wore now for personal reasons.

Voodoo: I'm just here to find Sarn Cadrill, Mr. Stafford. That's all.

Stafford: Are those group of pirates with you too?

Voodoo: Uh...sort of, I suppose.

Stafford: Aaaaaaand check.

The rest of the characters have long since been preoccupied with other things, including napping.

Stafford: Hrm, guess going through a checklist wasn't very exciting, was it? Well, I'm just going to send a pack of Trans-Terra-Terrorists your way then, with one of my model employees from page 12, and poster-boy of the terrorists, to lead them. Have fun!

MZZT: What now?

The TV monitor flickers off, and the hero-types are immediately surrounded by a pack of the most conservative-grandmother-scaring Trans-Terra-Terrorists ever seen.

Maybe: They!

Ante: We better--

Otter: START KICKING ARSE! After I finish my song, that is.

Will The Otter really try singing about his new transformation into full-fledged heroism? Did anyone really want a recap of all the characters present like that? What about the Horde-equivalent group of TotallyEvil and Dart Wader, or of the Ego, Id and Sup? Find out next time, right here on the Never-ending Story Thread Squared!

Suddenly, the door breaks down, and Al Ciao leaps in!

Random Potbellied Audience Member: "Ow chow"? Since when does food hurt? *rubs belly fondly*

Random Constipated Audience Member: Oh, you have no idea... *rubs belly painfully*

Al Ciao is dressed in jeans and a shirt that looks remarkably like Charlie Brown's. His hair is a mess of curls so dark that they almost look black. One of his eyes is blue, the other is brown. He stands at 6 feet even.

Al Ciao: Look, Narrator, I just smashed down the door. Isn't anyone surprised at my Dramatic Entrance(TM)?

Certainly. Al Ciao finds himself in a mansion rendered in black and white, and sees the Beverly Hillbillies sat down to dinner, looking up at this in-color newcomer in astonishment.

Al Ciao: Bugger. Wrong story.

He leaves quickly. There is a pause. Then he comes back in and picks up a black and white chicken leg. Between bites, he does a bad imitation of the announcer from a certain video game, by way of explanation.

Al Ciao: Warrior needs food, badly!

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

Elsewhere, in Mr. Stafford's Convenient Side-Questy Stronghold - or whatever the freakin' heck it's called - Frederick J. Otter and his companions face down the evil THEY and the Trans-Terra Terrorists.

They: Prepare to die, you - eh?

Otter has struck a pose and the room darkens as a spotlight shines down on him.

Otter: You might have the right stuff to defeat us, They, but I'll be gosh-darned if you do it before I get my song in! --wait, "gosh-darned"? Who the freakin' heck is writing this post? A 10-year-old?

Al Ciao The Writer: Look, do you want your song or not? No more gibes about my age!

Otter: Alrighty then:

My name is Otter, Frederick J. The
I do the booze, I snooze I lose
But that all changed when I found love!

BOOM BOOM CHICK BU DOOM BU DOOM CHICK

I'm a tryna rap, but this writer writes crap
And if I keep singing like this somethin's gonna snap!

BOOM BOOM CHICK BU DOOM BU DOOM CHICK

Seriously, Al Ciao The Writer, I'm not gonna sing this carp.

Al Ciao The Writer: Well, don't say I didn't give you the chance.

They: Hello! While you were busy rapping, my sidekicks left for an hour break!

Ben: So, call them back.

They: Can't. Union rules.

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

Elsewhere, another door bursts open. Al Ciao dives in, rolls, and comes up on his feet before swaying and falling to the ground dizzily.

Al Ciao: Man, I should know better than to try acrobatics like that on a full stomach.

He looks around, relieved to see the world in color.

Al Ciao: *to a young boy passing by* Hey you! Is this the Neverending Story!

Young Boy: Yes, it is. Pleased to meet you, I'm Atreyu.

Al Ciao: Fiddlesticks. Wrong Neverending Story.

He dives back out the door - "fiddlesticks"? Seriously? Who's writing this, a Girl Scout?

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

At the Stark Stronghold of Starkness, a shadow has fallen over our group! Lucy, Soriel, Bokken, and Relapse look up to see what it is, while Fred Teh Uber Blade keeps staring at Lucy's generous bosom.

Relapse: "Generous bosom"? Who writes this crap, Jane Austen?

Al Ciao The Writer: Hey! Pride and Prejudice was a great novel, and a lovely romance!

Relapse: Yeah, and I bet you read Nora Roberts, too.

Al Ciao The Writer: *shifts feet uneasily*

Isn't anyone interested in what this shadow is that's falling on you?

Soriel: Now that you mention it, yes. I'd like something to cleave.

Well, wouldn't you like to know? Come to think of it, so would I, but the writer is too lazy to think of anything. Try again next time, eh?

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

Elsewhere, Al Ciao jumps through another door and grabs a random passerby.

Al Ciao: Is this the Neverending Story?

Random Passerby: Yes, sir.

Al Ciao: No U.S. Capitol building, right?

Random Passerby: Correct, it was blown up page 23.

Al Ciao: Brazil's a desert, and the Sahara's an ocean swimming with mutant scorpions, right?

Random Passerby: Yeah, cuz of the white plot-holes page 32.

Al Ciao: And Jupitor is now Zeno, a violet sun?

Random Passerby: Yes...

Al Ciao: The New York City has the Statue of Slavery?

Random Passerby: Of course, it replaced the Statue of Liberty under Helebon's rule. Honestly, where have you been the last 20 pages?

Al Ciao: Uh... LOOK OVER THERE! *gebs it*

Later, after shaking off the lawyers who pursued him trying to sue him for infringing Gebohq Simon's copyright on "gebbing", Al Ciao makes it to the Airport.

Al Ciao: Whaddya mean there's no planes going to the 8th dimension? I have to get to the HHH!

Airport Teller: Oh, just turn the TV on to wrestling.

Al Ciao: Not THAT HHH. The Haunted Hall of Heroes!

Airport Teller: Oh, I almost forgot. There's always Communist Soviet Russian Secret Intelligence Airlines (Relocated to China) - they'll go ANYWHERE.

Al Ciao: Great, I'll buy a ticket. Are they reliable?

The teller bursts out laughing.

Al Ciao: Um, I'm just gonna assume that's a they're-so-reliable-it's-ridiculous-to-think-otherwise laugh, and board the plane...

Later, on the plane, Al Ciao is sitting next to a gaptoothed old man as it takes off.

Al Ciao: Hmm... At the risk of creating a plothole, just how does an airplane get to the eighth dimension?

The gaptoothed old man appears to consider this question for several moments, before replying in a wheezy tone.

Gaptoothed Old Man: Very, very carefully.

Al Ciao: Right. But how does it GET there?

Gaptoothed Old Man: Oh, it takes a spin through the Bermuda Triangle.

Al Ciao: Ah.

A thought strikes him.

Al Ciao: OW! Stupid thought... Hey, uh, when you say "spin", you don't mean the plane literally spins, do you?

The gaptoothed old man laughs uproariously.

Gaptoothed Old Man: Of course not.

Al Ciao sighs in relief.

Gaptoothed Old Man: It's more of turn-inside-out sort of thing.

Al Ciao: *gulp*

Back in the heart of the Story Arcade system, the protagonists within the Stark Stronghold of Starkness turn their heads to see that which was casting the large, ominous shadow...

Bokken: What the... is that what I think it is?

Tiger: I'm suddenly not so hungry anymore.

Soriel: It's--

THE SPOOKY TACO!!!

Lucy: AIEEEEE!!!

Spooky Taco: MWAHAHAHAHAHA!

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

Not too far away, back at Hedgestone University, Rachel and the others approach the stands to find their friends missing.

Rachel: I didn't think our fight was that boring.

Relapse holds his finger up to his ear as a secret agent would.

Relapse: Tiger, report. Where are you? ...at the Lost Beta headquarters fighting a giant sentient taco? ...I see. We have some serious talking to do when this is all done, Tiger. We'll be there A-S-A-P.

Relapse turns to Rachel and the others.

Adrian: They went on without us?

Relapse: Yeup.

Theo: Getting their arses handed to them by a nonsensical scary monster?

Relapse: Yeup.

Rachel: We need to do anything else here?

Relapse looks towards Professor Phand for a moment.

Relapse: You know what? No. Information isn't going to help a rat's *** in this place, and I think we have a train to catch.

K. Sa'dia Red, close by behind an announcer's booth, stands up and pushes a button to make her voice heard over the speakers.

Red: I'm sorry, strangers, but Vice said y'all weren't allowed past this point. GET 'EM, BOYS!

The large crowd of TLTE Lost Beta clones rise from the bleachers and charge towards our protagonists!

Rachel: RUN!

May: I'll hold them back for you all as long as I can! It's the least I can do.

Theo: Uh, so will I!

Adrian: But--

Rachel: RUN YOU FOOL!

Rachel, Relapse and the Amazing Adrian rush towards the train station, a wave of TLTE Lost Beta clones behind barely held back by Theo Otto R. and May B. Childe.

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

Back at the Stark Stronghold of Starkness, the Spooky Taco pummels our protagonists into guacamole. Tiger swings his tail against the Spooky Taco's shell to no avail, and Soriel's sword, Fred Teh Uber Blade, appears to deal no damage as blood--er--tomato juice--falls to the floor.

Fred: Ugh, I HATE tomatoes!

Bokken: What the hell? Why isn't this thing dying?

Spooky Taco: n00bs, Im using n INVINCABILITY CODE!

Bokken: The cheating *******!

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

Meanwhile (NeS count: ERROR), on board the Communist Soviet Russian Secret Intelligence Airlines flight for the Eighth Dimension in the world of NeS, Al Ciao tries to calm himself with some deep breathing. Unfortunately, this only distracts him as he smells the gap-toothed old man next to him. Al does his best to hide his disgust so as to not insult the old man.

Al: So... what brings you on this flight?

Old man: I've grown tired of life and this flight seemed the most likely to turn for the worse. That, and I hear the Cliffs of Chaos are a sight worth seeing if this plane actually makes its destination.

Al: Of course, of course...

Al Ciao buries his face into his hands.

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

Back in Story Arcade, Rachel, Relapse and the Amazing Adrian sit in the engine room as the train chugs closer towards the Stark Stronghold of Starkness.

Adrian: It's a good thing you knew a way to get on the train, Relapse.

Relapse: And it's a good thing Rachel knew how to drive a train.

Rachel: I might have problems stopping this thing, though.

Relapse: Wait, what? Why?

Rachel: The brake seems to be missing a handle.

Rachel demonstrates by turning towards and trying to use what would be the brake. A floating box of text appears above them each time she tries, reading "Uh-oh, the brake seems to be missing! QUEST TO FIND THE MISSING BRAKE HANDLE: INCOMPLETE" for all to see.

Relapse: I hate this system.

Adrian: Maybe if we cut off the engine and coast the rest of the way--

Rachel: I have a better idea.

Rachel pushes the controls, and the train begins barreling down the tracks. She then breaks the controls off.

Adrian: Faster? Are you INSANE?

Rachel: Only if you consider doing the most senseless thing to be crazy.

Adrian: I do!

Rachel: Psh, we'll be fine. Probably. Follow me!

Rachel runs towards the back of the train, with Relapse and the Amazing Adrian following in resignation.

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

Within the Stark Stronghold of Starkness, Soriel, Tiger, Bokken Monkey, and Lucy are on the verge of defeat.

Spooky Taco: U ALL SUK! I AM TEH BEST! I... what's that sound?

ch....ch....chh....chhchhchhchhhchhchhhCHHCHHCHHCHH--

Soriel: TRAAAAIIIIIIIIN!

Bokken: What?

Soriel, Tiger and Lucy dive out of the way, while Bokken Monkey and the Spooky Taco remain dear-in-the-headlights. The train crashes through the wall of the Stark Stronghold of Starkness and into the Spooky Taco against the other wall where it halts in a crumpled heap.

When the chaos dies down, Rachel, Relapse and the Amazing Adrian walk into the scene from behind the train, towards Soriel and the others.

Rachel: We're here!

Soriel: So I noticed.

Relapse: So where's this monster you all were fighting?

Tiger: Your train ran into it, sir.

Adrian: Hey, wasn't Bokken with you guys?

Bokken: My...f-f-f-foot....

Bokken Monkey lies just next to the train, his foot underneath one of the train cars. His eyes begin to water.

Soriel: Oh don't be such a baby, Bokken.

Lucy: You're lucky to be alive!

Bokken: Lucky...MY FOOT IS CRUSHED AND IT HURTS LIKE HELL! GAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHH!

Bokken Monkey begins to sob.

Relapse: Tiger, see if you can lift the train off his foot.

The Spooky Taco twitches behind the train wreck.

Adrian: Uh...

HAS THE SPOOKY TACO BEEN DEFEATED? WILL BOKKEN'S FOOT EVER BE THE SAME AGAIN? KEEP READING TO FIND OUT!

In the Communist Soviet Russian Secret Intelligence Airlines plane, Al Ciao is wakened from his uneasy slumber by an announcer.

Pilot: Don't worry, moi druzhya, we are merely experiencing brief occultic turbulence within the Bermuda Triangle's pentacular air currents. We might get blown slightly off course, but there's absolutely nothing to worry about.

Al Ciao: *to Gaptoothed Old Man beside him* Whew! That's good to know.

Pilot: Ha! Who am I kidding, my co-pilot comrade? Blown slightly off course, indeed! We'll be lucky to survive at all - what do you mean I didn't turn off the intercom? That's borscht. Turn it off? What button? Where? Oh, you mean THIS button--

Al Ciao: At the risk of overdoing my nervous gulps, *GULP*

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

At the Stark Stronghold of Starkness, Tiger shifts into giant dragon form and heaves his paws beneath the train, straining giant draconic muscles in an attempt to rescue the unlucky Bokken's foot from beneath the wheel.

With a he-man - er, he-dragon - effort, the train shifts, and Tiger lifts it up a few feet in the air.

Bokken: Whew! That feels so much better. Thanks, Tiger.

Tiger: No problemo.

Soriel: Wait a second. Bokken's supposed to be uber-unlucky, isn't he?

Adrian: Yes...

Soriel: So, given the nature of NeSian logic, it seems to me that his bad luck quota for the post has not yet been met, which means that at any moment...

Relapse: What?

Bokken: I'm not liking the sound of this...

At that exact moment, the plane Al Ciao is riding tumbles out of the sky, landing on top of the Lost Beta train. Tiger drops the train-now-burdened-with-an-airplane, and the whole ensemble smashes back down on Bokken's foot.

There is silence for a split second. Then-

Bokken: AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAARRRRRRGGGGGGGHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!

Lucy: Oh, quit being such a baby.

Bokken pauses from his bloodcurdling scream briefly enough to glare at her.

Rachel: Seriously, Bokken, you're gonna call down Vice's entire army down on us.

A sinister voice answers from the shadows.

Sinister Voice: Too late.

Adrian: What's that?

Tiger: Who's there?

Bokken: AARGH!

Sinister Voice: I am none other than D. Vice himself.

Relapse: Reveal yourself.

Soriel: So that I can part your head from your shoulders!

Bokken: AARGH!

Vice: I'm afraid I can't actually reveal myself yet. The final battle can't begin until all the side quests are over, and Otter and company have yet to finish theirs. Plus, the writer is far too lazy to go to the trouble of writing in a properly dramatic entrance for me.

Rachel: So what are you doing here?

Bokken: AARGH!

Vice: Well, I - seriously, isn't your friend there going to stop his caterwauling?

Relapse: Ignore him, he's just being a baby cuz a train landed on his foot.

Vice: Well, be that as it may, it's very distracting.

A shadowy hand makes a shadowy gesture from within, you guessed it, the shadows, and the train and plane lift ever so slightly, allowing Bokken to remove his foot.

Bokken: Whew! Thanks, Vice.

Vice: And now to business. Since we can't start our dramatic final fight yet, I have to fill in the time by tempting each of you to the dark side.

Bokken: Count me in, Vice, I'm game.

Other Heroes: WHAT?

Adrian: Bokken, you can't be serious!

Bokken: Well, he rescued me from the train when no one else would!

Tiger: *ahem*

Bokken: Well, Tiger, you tried, but Vice here - he succeeded!

Vice: Well, that was rather easier than expected. Anyone else?

Cold silence greets Vice's sinister, shadowy voice.

Vice: Well, one freebie's good enough. I can work on the rest of you the good ol' fashioned way...

OH NOES! Has BokkenMonkey really gone over the dark side? Will BokkenMonkey get a cool new all-black wardrobe now? Is BokkenMonkey related to SokMonkey? Is either of them related to chimps or apes? Find out next on--

Al Ciao: Hang on a sec! I haven't made my dramatic entrance into the scene yet.

*grumble grumble* Go on then.

Al Ciao leaps out of the wreckage of the plane, landing in a certifiably heroic pose beside the crashed train.

Al Ciao: Sounds like what you people need, is a HERO!

Cold silence greets him for a moment.

Tiger: Yeah? And who are you?

Al Ciao: I just so happen to be... a HERO!

Vice: Oh, good. I successfully tempt one of you fools to the dark side, only to have another one show up to replace him. Look, mister, join the dark side, yadda-yadda-yadda, and all that.

Lucy: "Yadda-yadda-yadda, and all that"? What gives?

Vice: I have to save all the drama for the final battle. I'm queueing it up, you see. I don't want to expend all my Dramatic Villainy points before then.

Lucy: Ah...

Al Ciao draws himself up indignantly, assuming a stern pose. In case no one's noticed yet, this guy is really good at assuming melodramatic poses. TALENT SCOUTS, TAKE NOTE!

Al Ciao: Don't tempt me to the dark side, Vice. I was once more powerful in the Schwartz than you'll ever be!

Shadowy eyes widen in shadowy recesses within, how predictable is this, the shadows!

Vice: Who are you? I feel as if I should know you.

Al Ciao: You might say I created you. You and your kind, in fact, were originally created in order to destroy me.

There is a sharp intake of breath from within the shadows. Of course, we can't see for sure if it's Vice, but if anyone wants to place a wager on someone else, be my guest.

Soriel: I'll take the wager!

Rachel: No, you idiot, you can't out-bet him - he's the NARRATOR!

Soriel: Right.

Vice: *talking to Al Ciao* You! And now you're here before me. Powerless, it seems. Oh, this is delicious...

Al Ciao: Ha! Good luck, Vice. I know The Last True Evil, and he would laugh in your face. I knew the Thirteenth True Evil - he would've wiped the floor with you, and he didn't even have any powers!

Vice: Are you done with your melodramatic speech?

Al Ciao: Yes. Melodrama is one of two powers now. I'm very good at being melodramatic.

Vice: And what's your other one, pray tell?

Al Ciao: Oh, I can change my hairstyle with a wish.

His crown of dark curls changes in a flash to a purple mohawk, then to long straight blue hair, next to orange spikes, before finally returning to normal.

Vice, of course, laughs.

Vice: Well, it's pointless to try to tempt you to the dark side, Mr. - what are you calling yourself now? - Ciao, but I still have your other friends to tempt. In the meantime - BOKKEN! Prove your worth by disposing of Mr. Ciao here. And draw it out - we still have to wait for Otter's side quest to be completed...

Bokken: Yes, milord...

As Al Ciao and Bokken face off to begin their fight, the gaptoothed old man heaves himself out of the plan wreckage.

Vice: Oh, not another one. And what will it take for YOU to join the darkside?

Gaptoothed Old Man: How 'bout a good dental plan?

Vice: Done.

Elsewhere in a dark corner of Sir Stafford's--

Id: THIS POST SUCKS TOO! NEED SMASH!

Sup: Fine, go smash the first thing you see--NOT ME! Freakin' hell. The first thing you see besides me!

Just then, TotallyEvil and Dart Wader enter the scene.

Id: SMASH!

Sup: Yes, go smash.

Dart Wader: Wuht nawh?

The hulking Id claps his hands against Dart Wader's helmet.

Dart Wader: Owwee! Gewd fing ah um uh prahfeeshanul stontsmyan!

Sup: What?

Id: FIGHT NO GOOD. BORED.

TotallyEvil: Perhaps if we join together and search for--

Id: WOMAN! WANT!

Id starts advancing towards TotallyEvil.

TotallyEvil: Why'd I have to use up all my energy showing off in the last fight -- RUN!

Dart Wader: We awe soh nurfed sinze dis nuw enstunse uhpeered! Soh laym dey be suhch Hawrd playa-haytas.

TotallyEvil and Dart Wader continue to flee from Id and a trailing Sup...

Benjamin Mahir The Writer: Right... let’s see where we are. ...gah that’s a lot of characters! Hmm. The solution to this is either to kill them off or add more. Maybe I can get away with both. Narrator? Your new lines.

About time. Ahem. Elsewhere deep within Sir Stafford's Super-Sized Side-Quest-Supplying Sanctioned Station, our heroes dispatch the remaining terrorist.

Well, actually Chris just wails on him since all his buddies are gone. But there is much rejoicing by all.

Ok, mainly just the pirates. The rest of the assorted heroes have a group huddle to try to figure out what to do next.

Ford: Ok, so this is Stafford’s Warehouse, and on top of a legion of forgotten characters he has mysterious control over the Trans Terra Terrorist. ...what are we here to do again?

Maybe: We’re here to blow up the computer core of this complex.

Ante: ...why?

Ricky: For mad loot and credit, why else?

Ante: And XP, but really, why are we here? Who sent us here?

Ben: Hero Force One. They’re running the Without Credit program in order to take down the Globalists who have somehow gained some strange influence over the Trans Terra Terrorists.

Ante: Ah, but who told Hero Force One to start up the Without Credit program?

Otter: Wait, I see where this is going. You’re just trying to turn us against the writers again. Well [censored] to that. We know what we’re doing and all it involves is large explosions, no worrying about a bunch of lazy blokes trying to type us to death. Onward, to the computer core!

The Otter promptly marches off. Ben rushes after him and quickly points him in the correct direction towards the computer core before Otter’s dramatic moment becomes a farce. The rest of the heroes shrug and walk off after them with nothing more than random banter to do anyway.

Before they make it, the bad guys crash the party.

Id: ID [CENSORED]!

Bad guys in this case being Totally Evil and Dwarth Wader who are being chased by the potentially bad Id and Sup. Despite making our censors work for their paychecks, Id thankfully still has his pants on.

Diving past the heroes, Totally Evil and Dwarth Wader take cover behind some boxes. Since none of the heroes have that big of a spine, they follow suit. All but the pirates who are still completely sloshed, and Nick who is still comatose. Id, due to his neanderthal reflexes, falls for this ploy and plows right all over the pirates and Nick, killing them in a scene far to squishy to narrate, and then charges straight through a hallway wall.

The heroes look at each other. They then look at the villains. There is a moment of brief tension, broken only by the light popping sound of Nick respawning. Voodoo, Ben, and Ricky move to help Nick while the rest of the heroes move into surround their old foes.

Nick: What hit me? I feel like somebody sucked out my very sense of identity only to get run over by the physical manifestation of the guy's Id.

Ricky: That... was a little too accurate to just be plot convenience.

Nick: *wink* Don’t get to be son of a god without some perks. Speaking of which, where is Chris?

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

Where indeed. Back a few twists and turns down the hallway where the heroes were a little while ago, Chris can be found still trying to beat the [censored] out of They

Chris: Why... won’t... you... die!

They: We are a... relative of Darkside. Collectives such as we can not be defeated by mere brute force.

Chris: ...[censored].

Will this be the end of Chris? We can only hope. Please tune in next time for... wait, there’s more?

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

Back with our heroes, we find the more veteran of them gathered around their old enemies rather than actually being heroic and helping someone.

Dwarth Wader: Dwo, the weath agaign.

Otter: Ok, seriously mate, you need to get that respirator of yours fixed.

Dwarth Wader:...bwuth iwt mye wonning gath.

Maybe: Then get a new one. Otter has given up drinking and set his mind on becoming a real hero. I’m sure you could...

Maybe stops as she notices that Ford, MZZT, and Ante have broken out laughing at hearing about Otter’s supposed change of heart. Otter simply fumes, wondering if there is any way he can get sloshed without giving into the stereotype that he’s a drunk.

Semievil meanwhile is having a staring contest with his sister. Eventually it is she who breaks the ice.

Totally: So, I see you’ve been dipping into dad’s hair tonics again. Literally, I might add.

Semi: Murrra!

Totally: Such language. And here I was going to offer to my assistance.

Maybe: Wait, you want to help us?

Totally: Why of course. What better way to show my gratitude for helping us out with that hulking brute then by removing the curse on my brother. The strength might be nice but the lack of communication can’t be helping team work.

Semi, Maybe, and Otter exchange doubtful glances between each other. It is eventually Antestarr who speaks up... still recovering from out of control laughter.

Ante: Let her... do it. A writer is... probably just... tired of the wookie... gag.

While still doubtful, Semi heeds the recommendation of his friend and doesn’t resist as his sister approaches him. What follows next is faster than a full body wax job and ten times as painful as Totally Evil rips off his pelt in one fell swoop. There is a brief moment of silence before Semi screams a scream so loud that it can be heard around the world.

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

Losien: Wait... did you hear that? I know that scream. That’s Sem’s scream.

TLTE: Milaya moya, our comrades will have to do without us for awhile.

Losien: How can you say that? One of our friends is in pain and all you can say is they’ll be ok.

TLTE: Angel moy, look around us. We are on a desert road, without food or water, and have been like this for days. At first I thought it was just because we were in Nevada, but now I think the writers will not allow us to rejoin our comrades until we have resolved our differences.

Losien: My, how convenient for you. *pout*

The Last True Evil moves to put his arms around Losien, only to have his arms morph into liquid ropes of fire. Sighing, TLTE casts down his head.

TLTE: Losien... pozhalujsta, if not for me, then for yourself. Why won’t you acknowledge me love?

Spinning around, Losien stomps up to TLTE to stand face to face with him, arms of fire or not.
Losien: Tell me, am I the only thing that you love?
TLTE: Da, my little...
Losien: THAT is the problem!
TLTE stands back in shock. Losien backs down and assumes her own downcast gaze as she continue.
Losien: Every girl wants to be the thing their man loves most, it’s only natural. But I can’t be the ONLY thing that you love. I don’t care what the Patriot says... you’re a hero and you might... no, you will make the wrong choices if I’m the only thing in your heart.
TLTE: Losien...
Losien: Don’t go telling me I’m what makes everything else worth loving, it still isn’t the same.
TLTE: You are milaya moya, but please, get behind me.

Confused, Losien looks up to notice the darkened skys. Directly in front of TLTE and Losien a black plot hole was opening up. The question is, why?

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

To get the answer, we must travel back to the other heroes in Stafford's Warehouse, at just about the moment we left them. Enough time has passed for the screaming to cease and the all the characters to have gathered in one spot again.

Semi: ...man that hurt.

Otter: Walk it off mate.

Ford: Great, he can talk. Now we’ll have to listen to him whine.

Voodoo: Can someone get him some pants?

Totally: Don’t bother, they’ll only be reduced to ash in a second anyway.

Grasping the wookie pelt close to her bosom, the team watches in horror as it dissolves into an eerie green light that Totally absorbs into herself.

Totally: You are all fools! The entire reason that brute was giving us trouble before was because I was low on power. But now I have enough to destroy you all and still protect the computer core from any other meddling heroes.

Dwarth Wader: Wo tweam!

Totally:Now… die the death of a thousand lifetimes!

Totally Evil gestures with her hands... and nothing happens. After a small dramatic pause the entire group looks up and takes note of what by now is very familiar white text.
INVALID COMMAND. THIS IS A NO PVP ZONE. PLEASE TAKE PLAYER CONFLICTS TO ARIES’S REGISTERED ARENAS.

Maybe: ...you guys are Without Credit players also?

Totally: Of course, why else would we be here?

MZZT: But... you’re villains.

Totally: Yes, and as such we signed up with the Gobalists.

Ben: Wait... both Hero Force One and the Gobalists are running recruitment programs entitled Without Credit? That makes no sense.

Ante: No, it makes perfect sense. All of this is just some stupid MMO parody by the writers. I should have seen it from the beginning. Well, I’m certainly not wasting any more of my time here.

With that, Antestarr storms off through the nearest open door.

Ben: He probably didn’t want to go through there if he wanted to not be involved in this anymore.

Otter: Why, is it a broom closet?

Ben: No, it’s the door to the mainframe.

The heroes and villains pause to look between themselves for a moment before making a mad dash after Antestarr. They find him inside the mainframe room, but not alone. Up above them on the cat walks is a dark masked figure entering in some final commands on a control console. Also, needless to say there are some very big computers in here.

Masked Figure: Foolish heroes, and even more foolish villains. You are both too late. This world you fight for is now lost as our power and might are finally let...

He doesn’t get much farther in his monolog as the group belt him more spells and bullets then should be allowed to hit a single target in a six second interval. The masked figure falls from the catwalk, and hits the ground cold. The group of assorted heroes and villains look over the masked figure’s body and then up towards the control panel he was working on.

Ricky: Did we get him in time?

Several black plot holes start opening both in this room and throughout the facility.

Ford: That would be a big no.

From the black plot holes and near endless supply of Trans Terra Terrorists start to poor out. The heroes and villains are quickly having their usual banter over the sound of their own gunfire.

MZZT: Totally, not that I expect you to ever be helpful, but since he just [censored] you over too... what exactly did he just do?

Totally: The Gobalists have been using Stafford's system for forgotten characters to control the Tran Terra Terrorist. This mainframe was the master control. He must have set it from controlled random spawns to overflow.

Maybe: Overflow what?

Totally: ...the world.

Ante: ...right. World is not going to be ended by the writers on my watch. MZZT, shut this thing down. Everyone else, kill as efficiently as possible. And watch the corpse stacking. The last thing we need is to be killed by their endless supply of corpses.

And so as Otter grumbles about him being in charge, the heroes and villains fight side by side with the entire world on the line as black plot holes open all over the world... though thankful not on other worlds like the Eighth Dimension and Story Arcade.

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

Unfortunately Losien and TLTE were both on Earth, endless desert road or not. The black plot hole before them was indeed spewing forth an endless supply of Trans Terra Terrorists. Thankfully for now they were dying on impact, but soon the corpse pile would be both high enough and soft enough to allow them to survive.

TLTE: Stay behind me Losien. I might be slightly handicapped, but there is nothing to keep me from turning a disadvantage into an advantage.

Just to prove him wrong, TLTE’s cursed arms decide to do something they haven’t done before... they disappear, leaving him with two stumps where his arms should be.

TLTE: ...this is nothing. Mother Russian has given birth to fighting styles westerners can only dream of.

And with that said, TLTE strikes a new battle pose... a pirouette?

Yes, strange as it might seem, once the Trans Terra Terrorists start surviving the fall down from the portal to be able to actually fight, TLTE fights them with leaps and high kicks, using a form of martial arts the KGB developed off of classic Russian ballet.

And so, while Losien and TLTE might be safe, the entire world is still in danger. Will MZZT save it in time before the Trans Terror Terrorists defeat him and his friends just with their corpse piles? Will Dwarth Wader and Totally Evil at least take a five minute time out before fighting with the heroes when the world is saved? And will Losien and TLTE ever come to an understanding? Only time will tell, so come back for another installment of the Neverending Story Squared!

There was a great blinding light that engulfed the Fortress and its occupants. Through squinted eyes, Rachel could see a dark silhouette against the startling white backdrop. It swirled about for a moment and was, most unmistakably, naked. After much senseless prancing clothes, apparently from nowhere, attached themselves to the figure. Somehow the whole sequence was much more appealing in previous animated incarnations...

Bokken Monkey: "Now I'm ready."

In place of Bokken Monkey was a totally new guy... wait... no, he just went a Class shift up.

Bokken Monkey: "What? No! I'm evil now! Like the Narrator said before, all black, you know?"

There's only one Narrator...

Bokken Monkey: "One Narrator of multiple voices."

I'll buy that. Anyway.

Bokken Monkey was now dressed in BLACK to the max. Tall boots, a long trench coat and so much leather and belts you might wonder if the bondage fair was in town. Or if he was a Final Fantasy villain.

From the infinitely deep Bag of Holding slid Bokken's bokken. A long, wooden sword that went with his outfit fabulously-
-------
Gebohq the Writer: "Fabulously? Seriously?"

Britt the Writer: "What!?"

Gebohq the Writer: "You like Pride and Prejudice too, don't you?"

Britt the Writer: "Never read it... but I love Wuthering Heights!"
--------
-and was raised in a combative stance. A stern expression was etched into his face as he glared at Al Ciao.

Rachel: "You're not really going to attack a good guy are you, Bokken?"

Bokken Monkey: "I don't even know who this guy is. I can attack him without feeling too guilty. So yeah. I'd attack Soriel too."

Soriel: "Eh? Why?"

Bokken Monkey: "Because you're a *******."

Soriel: "Ah... okay. Bring it on any day, chump."

Al Ciao: "Look, I think we all got off on the wrong foot here, you know?"

Bokken Monkey: "DIE!"

The dark-clad villain charged across the stone fortress, his long coat billowing out behind him like a dark, menacing, veil of shadow. He leapt into the air, his bokken poised to come crashing down upon Al Ciao's head with a tremendous deadly force.

Then lightning struck. Apparently being evil didn't negate the bad luck. Bokken was frazzled by the lightning and sent flying high into the sky-

Bokken Monkey: "Looks like Team Monkey's blasting off agaaaaaaaaaain!"

Rachel: "I don't remember him blasting off ever before. What's he talking about again?"

Tiger: "I think it's one of those pop culture references."

The group craned their necks back down to face the new-comer.

Rachel: "What're you doing here?"

Al Ciao: "To save the day!"

Rachel: "...With your hair?"

Al Ciao: "My hair? Awesome isn't it?"

His hair proceeded to flourish through a series of styles and colours before he settled it into an extravagant 'manga-style' cut that was ridiculously red with orange tints.

Rachel: "That was very specific..."

Vice: "Right. Someone could have told me that I hired the rubbish one."

Adrian: "Figured you'd find out eventually. Better to gain experience rather than have everything handed to you on a platter, right?"

Vice: "Shut up you. Soriel, you're an evil sod, why don't you join me?"

Soriel: "I'm not evil I just like killing things."

Vice: "You could kill all of these guys!"

Soriel: "Nope. One thing I've learnt while hanging around them; there'll always be more NeS and more pointless bad guys to kill. Sounds like a sweet deal to me. You'll be killed off soon enough to satisfy plot and story progression, so the carnage wouldn't last very long."

Vice: "..."

Heroes: "..."

Vice: "Alright. Fine. Whatever. Look, to get to me you need to find... erm... six magic keys to open the Big Boss door. So... go fetch."

The heroes gave a collective groan and murmur of complaint."

Vice: "Fine! Five! No less!"

Still with long faces the group shuffle off to locate the random keys to complete the annoying side-quest. Al Ciao, who seemed to have been accepted without much fuss, was also dubbed 'leader' on account of the loss of Bokken Monkey to the dark side.

Soriel: "Wait, what!?"

Al Ciao: "Only natural."

Rachel: "Seriously? You've only just joined! There're more experienced people already here! I'd rather leave the life of by boyfriend in more capable hands."

Al Ciao: "Trust me, I'm a doctor."

Rachel: "Uh... you are?"

Al Ciao: "Figuratively..."

Tiger: "Maybe we should wait and see if Bokken comes back down?"

Soriel: "He'll catch up."

Tiger bade the sky one last worried look before the group trooped inside the fortress and found that they were blessed with multiple fun, exciting rooms to explore which were filled with monsters and chests and stuff and more stuff!

Soriel: "Yay, monsters to kill!"

Al Ciao: "Yay, stuff and more stuff!"

Relapse: "Typical. Stupid gaming system."

Lucy: "What?"

Relapse: "Nothing!"
---------
A great uproar was to be heard by Hengestone University as the TLTE Clones encircled poor Theo and May.

Theo & TLTE Clones: "What shall we do with a drunken sailor!?"

May: "I don't know which is worse. This or being mangled by them?"

Theo & TLTE Clones: "Early in the morning!"
---------
Vice: "Well done Gap-toothed Old Man. You did well bringing him here at last."

Gap-toothed Old Man: "Thank you, comrade Vice. Do you think they fell for our ruse?"

Vice: "Of course. Heroes are gullible like that. So when they next meet you, you can continue the poor hobo role and appeal to their sympathetic natures. Then kill them. Got it?"

Gap-toothed Old Man: "Of course! But... where you serious about that dental plan? I mean, I could really do with-"

Vice: "Fine. Whatever! Kill them and you get all the teeth the Soviet Union can afford, comrade!"

Gap-toothed Old Man: "Well that's not very many!"

Vice: "Don't make me call you a capitalist pig-dog!"

Al Ciao: Woot! I'm a DOCTOR, baby! I can M.D. with the best of them! Here, Rachel, drop your pants so I can give you a gynecology exam!

Soriel: Look, if he gets to make sexual innuendoes that strain the PG rating of this story, why don't I get more gory killing sequences?

Rachel: You sicko! I wouldn't drop my pants for anyone! ...well, except my dear Gebbit.

Relapse: Look, Al Ciao, you ARE the newest character here-

Al Ciao: You really have no idea, do you?

Relapse: So why is it that you're the leader?!

Al Ciao: Well, the first reason is that the Narrator said so.

Relapse: And the second reason?

Al Ciao: I can find the first key right off the bat.

Relapse: Oh, really?

Al Ciao spins around and around till he's dizzy, then wobbles and stretches out a hand to point. Our heroes' collective gaze automatically follows the direction of his pointed finger...

And there, not ten yards off, is a silver key, worked in golden filigree, hanging in midair within a brightly alcove.

Soriel: How... how did you do that?

Al Ciao: Honestly, am I the only one in this party who's read the whole NeS? Look, it has to do with a convergence of completely random coincidence and necessary comic effect - sorta like a plothole, only turned inside out and reversed.

Tiger: Huh?

Rachel: No, I know exactly what he's talking about. You know your story conventions, Al.

Tiger: Huh?

Rachel: Story conventions. Uh... sorta like the NeSian version of quantum physics.

Al Ciao saunters - melodramatically, mind you - over to the alcove, and with a melodramatic flourish, seizes the key and hoists it in the air over his head.

Al Ciao: Alright, folks, one key down, four to-

Suddenly, a cage drops from the ceiling, trapping Al Ciao and the first key beneath it, and a horde of black-clad ninjas drops from the ceiling to surround him.

Al Ciao: Bugger.

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

In the Globalist mainframe core room, the heroes battle the overwhelming horde of Trans Terra Terrorists, all except for Ante and Otter, who are battling over the leadership role.

The leadership role has conveniently manifested as a bullhorn for this post, and Ante and Otter are playing tug-of-war with it.

Otter: I'm the leader! I'm changing and coming into my own!

Ante: Screw that! Your "change" is merely an artifice of the writers to introduce "redemption" into the story!

Ante grabs the bullhorn and shouts an order through it.

Ante: MZZT! Tag team them with Sem! Technology vs. magic, baby, yeah!

MZZT whips out a flamethrower, and Sem calls down a Everquestian hailstorm from the ceiling, decimating their foes.

Otter: Yeah, you think that's something? *grabs bullhorn* Everyone do the funky chicken!

The heroes instantly starting bawking and flapping their arms, and their wildly jerking elbows knock several dozen of the Trans Terra Terrorists out.

Ante: Yeah, well-

Maybe: LOOK, you two *she uppercuts a terrorist into the ceiling* what we REALLY need *she elbows a terrorist who snuck behind her* need to do is close *she kicks another terrorist in the groin* these plotholes!

Ante and Otter stare at her, slackjawed.

Maybe: Ah, screw it. It's always up to me, isn't it? And here I thought Geb was the only ineffectual leader. *she grabs the bullhorn* Heroes! Form up! Strongest in front, ranged fighters in the rear! MZZT! Break off and hack into the mainframe - see if you can reverse the process!

Ante: ...well. If it gets things done.

Otter: *drooling* She's hotttt when she takes charge like that...

MZZT: Maybe! I can't close the plotholes, but I can redirect them all to one location!

Maybe: Where?

MZZT: I dunno, it'll be totally random! Should I risk it?

Maybe grits her teeth in indecision, before she feels a hand lay itself upon her own. She turns to see Otter smiling at her.

Otter: Do it.

MZZT looks from Otter to Maybe, then back. He nods quickly and makes a few more keystrokes at lightning speed. The plothole portals disappear.

Heroes: Yey.

Not ANOTHER Monty Python reference...

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

At Hengestone University, Theo and the TLTE clones have finally finished their drunken sailor song. May is bleeding from her ears. Then the clones push Theo back into the circle with May and laugh sinisterly.

TLTEtheGodfather: And now, muh dear, we shall haff to... rub you out.

At that moment, a giant plothole portal opens up behind the TLTE clones, and the Trans Terra Terrorists pour out. Not being intelligent enough to distinguish between good guys and other bad guys, they begin an all-out brawl with the TLTE clones, and Theo and May slip away in the confusion.

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

NSP: That's all I have time for tonight! Idea for showdown with Vice: say he has a finite, if large, number of Force points, like he would in an actual video game...

When we last left the self-proclaimed leader and generally agreed awesome hair wielding Al Ciao, he was in a cage surrounded by ninja. Due to a construction error confusing meters and feet, the ninja were outside the cage, looking in, and looking confused.

Rachel: *foreheadslap*
Tiger: *ditto*
Soriel: *ditto*
Adrian: *ditto*
Relapse: *ditto*

Amusingly, that brought the rest of the group to the ninja's attention (turns out they were so good they barely noticed their own arrival).

Relapse: Gah.
Soriel: YES! Fighting!
Tiger: Yay? I guess?
Rachel: Actually, let's try reasoning first.
Soriel: Aww.
Rachel: Worth a try. Relapse?
Relapse: Huh?
Adrian: Soon he'll speak real words.
Rachel: You're a ninja, they're ninja.
Relapse: Classist.
Adrian: See?

Relapse points his arm at Adrian's foot, a tiny shuriken composed of electricity darts out of his glove and static-zaps the hero's foot. Hopping ensues. Ignoring this, NeSizens are nothing if not blase, Rachel gives Relapse a shrug so he walks over to confront his fellow ninja.

Ninja:...
Relapse:...
Ninja: ... ... ...
Relapse: .... . ....
Ninja: . . . . . .
Relapse: *reaches into his pocket and pulls out a card*
Ninja: *nod and vanish*
Relapse: Not me though

No, not yo... you get no XP for assassinating the fourth wall.

Soriel: Aww.

OK, three refuse to leave on seeing Relapse's card (not fearing black lotus due to their own house-rules), and are immediately put down by a sword swinging Soriel.

Soriel: That'll do for now.

And, while I'm at it, Rachel finds a nice gem stone (as every encounter should result in some monetary treasure), Tiger finds a key lime pie to calm his savage hunger and Adrian fi-

Adrian: Wait.

Huh?

Adrian: Tiger, could that be a magical key lime pie?

A 'ding' sound occurs, and "2/5" flashes overhead.

Rachel: ... That's bad.
Relapse: *smirk* You won't like this then. Can you sing? Carry a tune?
Rachel: Well... maybe
Al Ciao: Still in a cage here.

Tiger meanders over to lift off the cage. Al Ciao's hair helps.

Rachel, meanwhile, whistles a tune - deciding against singing with this crowd.

Adrian: What do you think?
Soriel: flat.
Relapse *nudges Soriel*: I thought it was magical.
Adrian: A magical key, yes.

*ding 3/5*

Rachel: I'm now sure I don't like where this is heading.
Tiger: Me next! Umm... eat the pie?
Everyone else: NO!
Tiger: Fine. So, this may be 'key' to us getting past to the bad guy?

*ding 4/5*

Relapse: Hey, good one, Tiger.
Soriel: ... so now what?
Relapse: ...
Adrian: ...
Rachel: ...
Al Ciao: ...
Tiger: *eats his dots*

Hey!

Rachel: He's part pacman?
Relapse: Actually, since I'm a trained ninja, I have access to inner strength, also known as 'ki'. So you could say I ha-

The ninja's remark is cut off as a large wharf appears from no-where and lands on the ninja. Made entirely of wood, there is a sign on the jetty but there are no words - just the picture of a cupboard of some description and a smiley face.

*ding 5/5*

Adrian: A magical quay. Also, ouch.
Relapse: *muffled* Cupboard, I had it covered. ... ... Oh ha-ha.

ID smashed his way into a room that was already adequately smashed.

Sup: That's enough, ID. Ego was here. I can feel his smugness in the air.

ID: SMASH EGO.

Sup: Not right now.

Sup pulls a net book from his pocket.

Sup: Let me check. Yes, he was here, it's right here on page 25. He was definitely here. There's only one man who can help us stop him now.

What are the strange ID and Sup up to? Are they heroes, or villians? Who is the one that can help them? This and more, eventually, on the ne...

Sup: It's you, dumbass.

Excuse me?

Sup: You're the only one who can help us.

I don't get involved.

Sup: Look, Ego isn't going to stop. He's going to collapse the Never Ending Wave Function. Do you know what happens then? All plot lines will end in a single resounding climax. Every loose end will be resolved. The plot fractal will collapse to a point.

You mean... I will be destroyed?

Sup: Worse. You will be unemployed.

Okay. I will help. What do you need me to do?

Sup: First, find him.

Why that is no problem at all...

...

Meanwhile, at the 103rd annual Forgotten Characters Whose Original Creator No Longer Visits Massassi And Thus Could Not Possibly Be Upset If They Die Eastern States Labor Union Convention, business had just be called to order.

Galvatron: Order! Order! (Gavel bangs) First, is there any old business? No. Good. Is there any new business? No? Haven't any of you been written into the story at all?

Phantom Master: Well I almost was!

Lt. Randy: Actually I only came here hoping some new writer would remember I exist.

Galvatron: Is there any business? Any at all?

Something shimmers in the back of the room. Something vaguely man-shaped.

Galvatron: You! Do you have business?

Shimmer: Yes.

Galvatron: The floor recognizes the vaguely man-shaped shimmer, Local... uh.

Shimmer: Local four.

Galvatron: Local four. Very well, what business do you have?

Shimmer: I would like to make a motion.

Galvatron: Ah yes, a motion to what?

Shimmer: For you to all die.

Someone in the back of the room yells 'Second!' from reflex. The shimmer reveals himself to be the Incalculable Ego. Screams echo through the room as he rips the very being from the occupants, and absorbs it into his own person.

...

Back in the adequately smashed room, Sup punches keys on his netbook.

Sup: It is exactly as I suspected. Ego is not yet powerful enough.

He seems pretty powerful to me.

Sup: That's in-story power. He's after meta-story power. He's not yet strong enough to overcome the Heroes Can Not Die principle. You see, narrator, there is another rule at play. The rule of post-count-villian-strength. The more posts a villian appears in before the heroes challenge him, the stronger the villian must be. Ego is absorbing characters, yes, but that's not what he's after. He's after their posts.

So what about the characters he absorbs?

Sup: Quite dead, yes. Worse, even; they cease to exist at all. They are ripped out of the story, and every post where they appeared, Ego appears instead. As you can imagine, this creates some devestating plot holes. If he keeps this up, he will reach a post-count critical mass, and destroy the Never Ending Story utterly. Imagine is he absorbed a character such as Gebohq or The Last True Evil. The entire story would be about him!

Nick seemed okay.

Sup: A special case. He is protected by his own set of meta-story rules. So you see now why ID and I must stop Ego.

You seem to know an awful lot about this..

Sup: We are meta-psychological beings. All three of us. It gives us abilities that let us see beyond the story, into the meta-story realm. Also, I have 3g on this netbook. ID can hear you too, he's just too stupid to know it.

ID: VOICES SMASH! (ID rams his head into a wall, apparently in an attempt to shut up the voices in his head.)

(NSN: I really got nothin' at this lazy moment of mine right now, so you all get this instead...)

Within the Lost Beta's headquarters, the Stark Stronghold of Starkness--

Soriel: More like stupidness.

--our compelling cast of characters look to their team ninja stuck underneath a quay.

Adrian: How the hell are we going to move the wharf off Relapse?

Soriel: Uh...

Al: Well...

Rachel: Push it?

Rachel and some of the others move to one end of the woodwork and attempt to push it.

Surprisingly, it moves, but not without consequences.

Relapse: Owowowowowstopstopstopstopstop.

Rachel: Uh, Tiger...

Tiger: First a train, then a plane, then a cage, now this. What am I, the team crane?

Tiger lifts the quay off the ground and chucks it over on top of the train-plane wreck from earlier. The Spooky Taco twitches from being crushed even more. Relapse then stands up, brushing himself off.

Relapse: So, now that all that's taken care of--

Tiger: Shouldn't we wait for that Bokken guy?

Just then, Bokken Monkey falls from the sky on top of Relapse.

Tiger: Nevermind.

Relapse: *grumble*

And now, for an entirely too-serious post starring a couple of neglected characters!

At the Haunted Hall of Heroes, Young has a rare moment alone. Thrawnbot has just given her a plate of food - onions on salami, a weird craving she's having right now -and left, when suddenly - Master Arkng Thand appears in the room before her. Not a flash or a sound, not even a pop of displaced air; he is simply... there.

Young: You! Stay back! Mother told me what you did to those NeScholars!

Thand: My dear, one who has never truly lived cannot be said to have been murdered. "The unexamined life is not worth living" - Plato. I am here to help you examine yourself. Tell me - why did you marry Qhobeg in NeShattered?

Young smirks.

Young: I thought you knew everything, Master Thand.

And suddenly she shrinks back in instinctive fear as Thand stiffens. His eyes flash, and behind them is something old and terrible---

And then, just as quickly, the moment is gone, and only an unassuming old man stands before her.

Thand: *mildly* I do know everything, my dear. I only wish to make certain you know.

Young: Well, I married Qhobeg to stymy the writers. The writers had been setting up a storyline where I was growing to love Gebiyl, and I was created not to be a slave to them and their intentions.

Thand: Ah, but don't you see? If you just do the opposite of what the writers intend, then they are still controlling you. You are still setting your behavioral compass by them. No, my dear, you must follow your heart. Only then will you be free of the writers as you were created to be.

Young: And what about you, Master Thand? What writer controls you?

Thand: Only One may command me, He who created all writers - and He does not interfere, believing as He does in free will.

He pulls a pencil out of his jacket pocket and lets go of it. It drops to the floor.

Thand: Tell me, Miss Young - why did that pencil drop to the floor?

Young: Er... gravity.

Thand wags a finger.

Thand: Wrong. It dropped to the floor because the writer wrote it so. What appears to be a logical cause-and-effect in our world in fact answers to only one causality - that of the writer. There are no laws of nature as such; only story conventions that the writers generally choose to follow but do not have to. In fact, the NeS' various Storywielders are essentially characters with Writer powers.

He raises a finger.

Thand: You, Miss Young, were created in rebellion to the tyranny of the story. You are not the first such rebellion, nor, I doubt, will you be the last. Ares and Highemperor, for example, rebelled by powerplaying. In fact, such a rebellion created the NeS itself.

Young: Really?

Thand: I was there...

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

Atlantis. Circa 10,000 B.C. White marble and coppery-gold orichalcum glisten in the sunlight, forming domes and towers, palaces and obelisks in the grand capital of the great continent. In a central dome, a many-figured rune is drawn within a circle of forty mages on the floor.

The leader of the mages, dressed in all black, steps out of the circle to speak to a heavily muscled fighter.

Mage Leader: As you can see, Adai Theos, we are about to begin our 87th attempt at the Rite of Ente-Ashk.

Adai Theos: What is it you are attempting, Magister Starr?

The black-clad mage leader waves a hand negligently.

Magister Starr: Call me Magistarr; everyone else does. Well, our spell is based on the theory that any cogent imaginative thought we have actually exists in another world! We are attempting to summon such a real manifestation into our own world, using my newly made Ring of Ultimate Thinking Power(TM) - but thus far, it has not worked.

Adai Theos thinks for a moment.

Adai Theos: Perhaps you have it wrong. Perhaps WE are the ones being thought of.

A dumbstruck silence greets his profound comment. Then-

Magistarr: *snaps fingers* Of course! If we invert the spell, we could very well summon the Creator himself!

A lengthy rite ensues, when with a flutter of white light, a man in a blue cloak worked with golden filigree, appears in the center of the circle. Adai Theos watches, bemused, as Magistarr steps forward to introduce himself.

Magistarr: Greetings, exalted one, I am--

Summoned Being: *waving hand* I know who are you are, Magistarr, vizier of the realm and tutor of the young prince Stafford. I created you, after all. I am AncientWriterTheWriter - or perhaps now that I am in your world, I am merely AncientWriter.

Magistarr: Well, we have summoned you--

AncientWriter: You think you summoned me, but I wrote that you summoned me, in order that I might enter my story. I'll take that ring, by the way. You named its power thinking, but its true power is writing - the Ring of Ultimate Writing Power(TM)!

Magistarr: But-

Adai Theos: Why did you wish to enter, AncientWriter?

AncientWriter turns his very ordinary gaze upon the champion fighter.

AncientWriter: Finally, an intelligent question. I once served as an author in the NeT - the Neverending Tower. But I grew tired of the tyranny of the Editor's red ink quill. So I created this world and conceived a neverending story so full of zaniness and plotholes that no Editor could ever tame it!

Magistarr: So we... are in this neverending story?

AncientWriter: Not yet. Events have not yet reached the point where it may be birthed. But this world - your world, my creation - is its womb. I have entered this story that I may guide and protect it, for a time, before departing once more.

Magistarr: That is all very well, Exalted One - but the common populace can't know of this, or panic would ensue. We'll call you... the Ancient One.

AncientWriter: *nodding* A fitting name for one whose thought sustains the story until such time as it can sustain itself...

Magistarr and the other mages converge on AncientWriter/the Ancient One, discussing deeply mystical matters of theology and story conventions, while Adai Theos stays to the side.

Adai Theos: So - we're all in a story? Hmm...

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

Young: Wow.

Thand: Come, I must show you something before I go. Ask your... mother... to show you the NeS' newest hero.

Young nods, and within moments, an image displays itself of Al Ciao, standing with his fellow heroes at the Stark Stronghold of Starkness. Young sucks in her breath as a jolt goes up her spine. Her heart flutters.

Young: Who... is he?

Thand smiles.

Thand: He is, shall we say, your missing half. Remember - follow your heart.

He disappears, without so much as a flash or a bang, and Young calls out, knowing he can still hear.

Young: Wait! You mentioned "the first rebellion" against the tyranny of the story. What was the first rebellion?

Thand's voice answers her out of the air.

Thand: Mine.

And then he is gone.

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

NSP: Sorry that's so sloppily done, guys, I don't have much time, and I wanted to get some of those thoughts on the story out there. I'll be funnier and more on target next time, I promise!

*In the Sir Stafford Central Core, Otter, Maybe and Ante survey the leftovers from the battle.*

Otter: Looks like another job well done, team!

MaybeChild: Good teamwork, everybody!

Antestarr: Good job, team!

*The three heroes all look at eachother.*

Otter: I said, looks like another job well done, team!

MaybeChild: So what? Who made you the boss?

Otter: Uh, I called it when I rose above my alcoholism to become an upstanding English gentleman of the highest calibre.

MaybeChild: That's not how it works! Besides, it was my high-tech plan that saved the day!

Otter: But did you have a song?

MaybeChild: Why would I need a song?

Otter: Yeah, that's what I thought.

MaybeChild: But -

Otter: That's. What I thought.

Antestarr: I think you're both forgetting who really runs the show here. I was in charge the last time this situation came up, so it makes sense for me to be running the show now.

MaybeChild: What are you talking about?

Antestarr: When things happened to Geb and he couldn't hero it up anymore, they put me in charge. Just like now!

MaybeChild: Who is 'they'?

Otter: I don't remember that.

*Frustrated, Ante throws his arms in the air.*

Antestarr: That's because you don't remember anything unless there's a constant reminder punching you in the face!

*Otter leans in close to Ante's face.*

Otter: Well then perhaps you'd best remind me, good sir.

Antestarr: Sounds good.

*A tense moment of silence follows as both heroes stare one another down.*

Antestarr: And by 'constant reminder', I mean my fists.

Cris: And by 'punching you in the face' he means...wait guys I don't get this part.

Ford: Well, this took a turn for the worse.

Cris: No seriously guys hit me with a clue here.

Ford: Look heroteam, we need some kind of diplomatic solution to stop these three from killing each other.

Semievil: If only Geb were here.

Voodoo: He's right. Without Gebohq's inspirational leadership there's noone to hold our ragtag band of do-gooders together.

Semievil: I think maybe we're not talking about the same guy.

Ford: No, she's right! Mzzt, we need you to science up some kind of computer machine that will revive Geb and teleport him here!

Mzzt: Um, I don't think that's possible.

Ford: No, come on, some kind of regebulator!

Mzzt: That doesn't really sound like a word.

Ford: Just use your science!

*Mzzt shrugs his shoulders.*

Cris: You know, I find that moving to a new location can help the thinking process when I'm stumped on a problem.

Semievil: How will that help?

Cris: Allow me.

*Cris leaves the crowd of onlookers and wades into the Mexican standoff.*

Ford: See the play there was to *not* encourage him.

Cris: Friends! Don't get mad!

*This gets the attention of the angry trio.*

Cris: Making your way in the world today. Takes everything. You've got.

MaybeChild: Why are you talking funny?

*Cris drapes an arm over Antestarr.*

Cris: Sometimes you want to go...where everybody knows your name!

Antestarr: What -

Cris: And they're always glad you came! You know the words, sing it with me!

MaybeChild: But you're not singing, you're just talking funny.

Cris: You want to go where you can see...that people are all the same!

*Ante and Otter exchange confused glances.*

Cris: Yes, you want to go where EVERYBODY knows your name!

MaybeChild: You're taking us to Cheers?

Cris: No, to my restaurant! Cris B's!

Otter: I don't remember that.

Antestarr: Well, once again we have another case of Mr. British Otter can't quite recollect something. What a shock.

Otter: The old Frederick Otter would have simply smashed his beer bottle and cut you for that remark. However, I think you'll find that the new gentlemanly, law-abiding Frederick Otter will remove his glove and slap you across your pompous face!

*Nobody speaks.*

Otter: Thereby challenging you to a duel!

*Everybody gasps, even the pirates.*

Semievil: I thought your restaurant was called Cris B Chicken.

Cris: Well yes, that's the official name. But the hip slangy name is just Cris B's. Because I'm Cris B and it's all mine!

Mzzt: I don't get that name, Cris B Chicken.

Cris: Yeah well, I guess that explains why I'm a successful restauranteur, as the French call it, and you're a useless do-nothing guy.

Mzzt: I'm not useless!

Cris: You couldn't even make a regebulator.

Ford: Man's got a point there Mzzt.

*Half an hour later Ante, Sem, Mzzt, Ford, Voodoo, Maybe, Ben, Cris and the pirates and anyone else who decided to tag along are all crammed into the window booth at Cris B Chicken.*

Cris: Now isn't this a nice change of scenery?

*Maybe, Ante and Otter ignore their delicious chicken-related meals in favor of glaring daggers at each other across the table.*

Ford: No...not really. No.

*Cris hangs his head.*

Cris: Yeah, I know.

NSP: I got nothing. My creative juices have been sucked dry. So I leave you with some ideas of mine that've been floating around.

----------

In the desert, TLTE and Losien are fighting against the Trans Terra Terrorists. Even though the plotholes have closed, those TTT's that have already come through are proving quite a nuisance - especially since TLTE has no arms. He is currently kicking TTT's to the music of the Nutcracker Russian Dance.

TLTE: Whew, my legs are getting tired. And I can't even feel my arms.

Losien: Uh, TLTE, did you forget already?

TLTE: Right.

Suddenly, Dr. R. Deep, mystic of Hero Force One, swoops down out of the sky, peppering the TTT's with firebolts, who scurry away, clutching the burning seats of their pants.

Deep: Good to see you safe, citizens, I - wait. You are The Last True Evil, are you not?

TLTE: Would it help if I said no?

Deep: No.

TLTE: What if I said no AND gave you a box of donuts?

Deep: Who do you think I am, an Ohq?

TLTE: ...

Deep: No, I'm sorry, I'm going to have to arrest you.

Losien: No!

TLTE and Deep both look at her, surprised.

Deep: No? My dear, whyever not?

Losien takes a deep breath.

Losien: I love him.

TLTE & Deep: WHAT?

Losien: It's true.

Deep: Well, I can't deny the possible redemptive power of love. Very well, my dear, I shall give you some time to redeem him with your love.

Losien: Thank you, Dr. Deep.

Deep: 30 days.

Losien: Okay.

Deep blinks, surprised.

Deep: I only give you 30 days, and you're not at all upset?

Losien: No, because this is the NeS. 30 days could happen in one post or 10 pages. I'll have however much "time" I need.

Deep: Oh, yes, you're one of that heroic sect that believes we're inside a 'story'. Well, whatever makes you happy.

In a flash of emerald hued light, he is gone. TLTE turns to Losien and takes her hand.

TLTE: Losien - you... love me?

Losien jerks her hand away from his.

Losien: Now, don't get any ideas, TLTE. Just because I love you doesn't mean I'm idiot enough to be with you when you don't love anything else BUT me. I gave you a reprieve. Now leave me alone and go your own way.

TLTE: But darling-

Losien: Aren't you even LISTENING to me? Look, if you love me, do this for me. Try to love other things too. Life, others... yourself. You heard the doctor. You've got 30 days.

TLTE: All the time in the world...

Losien stalks off into the desert. Amal comes up behind TLTE.

Amal: Maybe it'll still work out, TLTE. She said she loves you.

TLTE: Thank you, Amal. Can you fix my arms, please?

Amal's pupils dilate for a moment, and TLTE's arms appear, normal as ever.

TLTE: Boy, it's a good thing for this fight I was the fifth grade Nutcracker play...

(NSN: Warning, long post again. Apologies!)

Somewhere in Sir Stafford's Station, Sir Stafford watches from his surveillance cameras as the heroes completed their computer core crashing side-quest and immediately exited to Cris B.'s restaurant.

Stafford: How disappointing. And here I thought they would pay me a visit and try to milk me for all the credit they could get. I was looking forward to breaking Voodoosnowflakes back into my company as I told her about the MIA status of Mr. Cadrill. Perhaps I'll pay them a visit...

Sir Stafford stares off, plotting something sinister.

Stafford: Hmm... this might involve effort. Damn, I may have to think this over...

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

Back within the heart of Story Arcade, the behemoth door unlocks, revealing a steep set of stairs rising into darkness. The Amazing Adrian helps Relapse to his feet, as does Tiger with Bokken Monkey.

Bokken: Thanks. Wait, I mean, ha HA! Now you will, uh... die? I'm kind of new at this.

Rachel: How about you just follow us to confront Vice? I'm sure he'll find some use for you as a puppet or something.

Bokken: OK, I guess...

Rachel, Relapse, Soriel, The Amazing Adrian, Bokken Monkey, Tiger, Al Ciao, and Lucy proceed through the doors and up the stairs. The door then closes behind them, surrounding them in pitch darkness.

Bokken: So am I the only one who can't see without light?

Al: Hold on, guys, I got this!

A moment later, a green-glowing Super-Sayian-esque hairstyle can be seen. It seems to only illuminate itself, though.

Rachel: Why don't we just use a little story convention trick instead.

A cone of light clicks on and makes some of the nearby stairs visible. It swings briefly upwards, to show Rachel's face.

Rachel: Works great for the X-files, didn't it?

Soriel: Uh--

Rachel: You really going to ask questions regarding our only source of light?

Al: I--

Rachel: That's useful?

Al: Aww...

Rachel: Let's move on then!

The flashlight swooshes back to the stairs. The cast of characters can now be dimly seen after adjusting to what little light there is, but little of their surroundings can be seen. They continue to trek up the steep stairs, which begin to spiral, then decend, then turn sideways and upside down and back up. Even in the scarce light, they can make out a towering twist of Escher-esque stairs above and below them.

Tiger: Apparently, installing an elevator would have been too convenient.

Soriel: Quit your whining.

After what felt like an eternity--

Soriel: It wasn't even ten minutes! Does no one exercise around here?

--the group reaches the end of the never-ending flight of stairs. In front of them is a large square chamber with an impressive desk on the opposite end. The chamber resembles something of an ultra-rich office room, though in place of appropriately modern lights, discs of flames flicker the room. Behind the desk sits a lean, gaunt man not dissimilar to the TLTE clones they had faced before, and standing next to him, an American, white male not unlike Gebohq wears strange, vice-like restraints around his head, neck, wrists, and ankles. A nameplate on the desk reads "D. Vice."

Relapse: Vice, I presume?

The gaunt man bears a slimy smile.

Vice: I go by many names. I was first and most accurately called The Last True Evil, designation TLTE-Beta-001, though with my brothers now, perhaps The Lost True Evil would be more appropriate. I have visited many places, many systems, many existences since my first inception. Darth Vice does happen to be among my favorite of my titles, though.

Tiger: I see you opted for the generic villainous lighting scheme.

Vice: I would apologize for the lack of proper utilities, especially considering your climb up here, but it so happened that my train was used to destroy the power generator alongside a significant portion of my facility.

Soriel: Before we get any further, do you still want Bokken with you?

Vice: I'll deal with him later--

Lucy: Enough! What have you done with my brother?

Vice: Hush, my little pumpkin pie. You give me far too much credit, dear. Your comrades know better, and I, in turn, have given them every advantage they are credited. After all, it would be unsportsman-like to offer any less. Speaking of, let me see if everyone is accounted for, yes?

D. Vice flips open a manila folder on his desk, flipping pages of paper up as he continues talking to them.

Vice: Let's see here... first we have Rachel Pi. Also known as the personification of April Fools, your love of randomness and foolishness is only matched by your love for Gebohq, no? I see you're wearing an engagement ring. Settling for predictable status-quo lately, it would seem.

Rachel: Don't bet on it, Vice.

Vice: I just might. Moving on, you have with you Soriel. A swordsmaster worthy of his title, wielding Fred Teh Uber Blade. Perhaps I may have some fun with you before the night has ended

Soriel: Perhaps I'll have some fun with you before your life has ended.

Fred: Ooo, very nice. I wonder if everyone will be as witty.

Vice: Yes, I'm sure. And with you too is Bokken Monkey. A nobody, really, presumably plagued with bad luck and sometimes sharing it with others. You've certainly brought me little luck of worth since you've joined me, that's for sure.

Bokken: Hey! I resemble that remark!

Vice: Then we have ourselves the proclaimed Gaming Guardians, serving to protect gaming systems from being abused and contaminated from errata and the like, so I've gathered. Leader among those of you here would be Relapse. Guardian Staff Sergeant of the Intelligence department and an excellent, if perhaps typical, ninja.

Relapse simply bows. Since his face is hidden behind his mask, it is difficult to tell how sincere his gesture may be.

Vice: And with you, The Amazing Adrian. Guardian Second Class of the Administration department, a regular superhero and American Southern gentleman. Perhaps you'll make me Gone With the Wind?

Adrian: Was that supposed to be a joke?

Vice: *cough* Continuing on with the last of the Gaming Guardians, Tiger. Guardian Junior Grade of the Security department, a size-shifting red dragon. More likely to lick cotton candy than to kick law-breakers.

Tiger: No reason I can't do both at the same time, really.

Vice: And left over, we have Lucy N. Smith, a very attractive young lady and sister of Guy Book Smith, and Al Ciao, is it? I'm still surprised you showed up, really. You'll be sure my title as The Answerer is not for show.

Al: Pardon me if I remain skeptical.

Vice: No one else? I was expecting more. Too bad.

D. Vice clasps his hands on his desk.

Vice: State your business, please.

Rachel: We know you're the cause of the condition threatening Gebohq's life in the Never-ending Story.

Relapse: And in ours as well.

Lucy: You've done something with my brother. What have you done with Guy?

Rachel: We think her brother has something to do with Gebohq as well. Tell us what you're doing and why we shouldn't beat you senseless until you give us what we want.

Vice: Why should I tell you anything?

Al: *in mock-Vice voice* "My title as The Answerer is not for show."

Al melodramatically stares, with his arms crossed, towards Vice. Vice returns the stare for a moment before slowly standing up and walking around and in front of his desk.

Vice: When I vowed to reclaim my birthright as The Last True Evil, I had to devise a way to gain the necessary control over something as unruly as the Never-ending Story. Pure and unquestionable power alone could not hope to succeed, because so long as its heroes fought, they would be destined to thwart my efforts, and so long as their writers enjoyed their success, they would make that destiny possible. So I began my campaign, to wage with what they would not want to resist.

D. Vice gestured with his hand, and the man that had been standing before him moves around and in front of the desk to stand by his side again.

Vice: And so I found my answer in this system, Story Arcade, a little homebrewed gaming system tied loosely with the Never-ending Story. With the help of my brothers, we formed the Lost Beta Limited Liability Company and took legal ownership of this system. We then modified it and marketed it to the writers of the Never-ending Story, who accepted it with pleasure. A system that turned their writing into a game, where they no longer had to put thought and effort into their story, how could they not accept it? Those within the NeS too have already accepted it with what little choice they had, comforted with their continued rewards of credit and experience. You too have all experienced what I've had to offer -- not death and chaos, but a marketplace to gain and establish worth in a familiar and lawful context. My friend here, Guy Book, is insurance for stability, which I keep safe.

He pats the man standing next to him, Guy Book Smith, on the shoulder. Guy continues to stare listlessly off in the distance.

Relapse: You mean he's your hostage.

Vice: A hostage would imply that I have demands. I am perfectly content where I am. To simplify things, though, it would seem that whatever happens to my friend Guy now will affect what happens to your friend Gebohq. And since Guy is my friend...

Guy Book Smith steps forward, brandishing a heroic sword.

Vice: ...it would be wise for you all not to threaten me. I am, however, among many other things, a businessman, so I propose an offer to you. I will turn over Guy Book Smith to you, alive and well, if and only if all of you sign this legal contract that, as representatives of the Never-ending Story and the Gaming Guardians, you recognize my rightful authority as owner of Story Arcade and, by result, primary shareholder of the Never-ending Story, and that any action taken against me regarding my control as spelled out in this contract will result in... well, you get the idea.

D. Vice slides over a pen and a paper on his desk - the contract - closer to his side.

Vice: Stability within systems, your loved ones safe and sound, I'll even throw in two free months off your subscription to Story Arcade: Without Credit if you sign now. That is, of course, unless any of you have a better offer?

(NSN: Feel free to check out the workshop post I made in regards to the end of this conflict.)

Blissfully unaware that elsewhere his clone is threatening the NeSHeroes with a Faustian bargain, TLTE stands in the desert and watches the shrinking figure of Losien, his one true love. Amal stands next to him, watching him watching her.

Amal: But I don't get it, Tee Ell Tee Ee. You said you loved Losien.

TLTE: I do, little one.

Amal: But she's walking away.

TLTE: As fast as her beautiful legs will carry her, it seems.

Amal: So why don't you go after her?

TLTE: It seems that she's made up her mind about this 30-day redemption period. Woe betide me if I chase her now.

He sinks to his knees, tracing his fingers through the soil. A conversation topic, long avoided, rises to the forefront of his thoughts. Reluctantly, he clears his throat.

TLTE: Amal...

Amal: Yep?

TLTE: We need to discuss something. There's a chance that I won't make it.

Amal: You mean you won't make it home tonight?

TLTE: No.

TLTE stands and turns to the young lad, marvelling again at how quickly he is growing. Amal easily looks like a handsome young man in his mid-teens. Steadily, he continues.

TLTE: I'm not getting any younger, Amal. The villains are getting stronger, while I get weaker. And...well, I've died before. A few times, in fact. One of these days, someone is going to kill me, and it's going to stick. My body will feed the soil, and my soul will descend to final judgment.

Trying to ignore Amal's quivering lip, TLTE presses on.

TLTE: When that happens, I want you to promise me you'll find Auntie Losien and stay with her.

Amal: But I want to stay with you!

The child throws himself pathetically into his ward's coat, sobbing. TLTE gently pulls him away and wipes his face with scarred fingers, smiling from a weatherbeaten face.

Amal: You're not going to die. I'll protect you - wield the NeS, like you said -

TLTE: No, no, ребенок. You don't understand. You're the reason I'm still here. I see that now. I've been dragging myself from one fight to another for years and years while better men and women than me go cold on forgotten battlefields, and all of it - ALL of it - was for you.

A pause. The two look at each other in the baking sun, true binary opposites.

TLTE: You're the future of this story. Not me. You and Young and Gebohq and all the others - you will shape this world after I give my life as a NeSHero. And I will finally rest in the company of my forefathers, with no regrets...

TLTE slowly rises to his full height. He turns, looking across the scorched earth. His coat rustles in the wind.

TLTE: But not just yet. First, I must be altruistic enough to win Losien's hand again. Then I must reunite with the ever-increasing NeSHero collective, so that we can plan our next strike against tyranny. And then, back to Master Thand, to see what role he plays in this complicated web of deceit and -

So engrossed is TLTE in his monologue that he nearly misses the guttural breathing behind him. It is as low-pitched and basso as an idling tank engine. As fast as a Siberian wolf, he turns -

The Patriot: Commie.

- and the beacon of anachonistic American politicka slams his superhuman fist into TLTE's face, catapaulting him into the desert sky.

((NSN: Sorry this is so bloody long. Went a bit off on one :p.))
--------

Somewhere, Ego continues his genius plot to conquer the NeS heroes by posting his post count by simply slaughtering an entire town of people as though he were scratching his backside on a Sunday.

Ego: "The more I'm mentioned..."

...The closer he gets to his goal.
-----------

Some time ago...

Darth Vice: "We're almost there, my young apprentice..."

Gale wind blew across the mountain side as Darth Vice and his apprentice, Darth Puis, ascended the rocky surface. Their dark cloaks billowed furiously. The planet was barren of life; a world of rock spread out from the mountain.

One of the planet's suns loomed high above, casting its glare through the dust that clouded the sky. When the first sun set, the second would be rising, offering no shelter from the furious heat of day.

Yet, this was a prototype world. An unfinished world. A Beta. Broken. Like Vice.

Darth Vice: "There it is. Do you see it, Puis?"

Darth Puis: "I see it, Master. What do you hope to find here?"

Darth Vice: "You shall see, young one. You shall see..."

Their ascent quickened with the thrill of their goal being so close. The terrain seemed to yield to their approach and their footfalls certainly hit firm rock each time. Neither stumbled or fell. This mountain had been designed to be explored.

The temple grew larger as they neared. It was a little unimaginitive, resembling an overly-sized hut from Tatooine. Vice considered that the designers had been sensible when leaving this planet from the real game.

When they attained the peak, they gazed at the temple; their prize. Despite its aesthetics, the temple seemed to radiate promise and opportunity.

As they approached, Vice cut to the side of the temple, causing a moment's hesitation in Darth Puis. He cast a long glance at the huge double doors. Then followed his master.

Darth Puis: "We aren't going inside?"

Darth Vice: "No. The inside was never programmed. This temple was scrapped long before that point arose."

Darth Puis: "Then how do we get to the centre of the building?"

Darth Vice: "Just follow me. Stop asking senseless questions."

Vice stalked around the building and Puis skulked in his footsteps. He was no longer thinking of the temple or infinite power. He was thinking of his master. A master unlike any other. A master that truly knew how the universe worked. A master that could not only bend the Force to his will with ease, but he seemed to be able to exploit the very nature of the universe.

Darth Puis: "How do you discover things like this, master?"

Vice smiled. It wasn't an evil smile, but his ugly features distorted and twisted it into a look of malevolence.

Darth Vice: "I am broken, young one. I am of the same nature as these faults in the universal fabric. That is why I can exploit them without consequence. I am already broken, I cannot be broken more."

Darth Puis: "And me?"

Darth Vice: "We shall see..."

They stopped. At the rear of the temple was a deep curve that bent inwards. Otherwise it appeared as solid and 'wall-like' as the rest of the temple's sandstone perimeter.

Darth Puis: "How does this work?"

Darth Vice: "We lurch through the wall. Do not worry, my son, you will pass through it easily enough. The temple was meant to grant you one single level up, as I call it. You will increase with power a small amount. However it unfinished and supposedly inaccessible. But, the wall is broken, like me. We can pass through and gain that level up. But the broken nature doesn't end there.

"There is no inside to this temple. We will fall. And fall. And fall. Darkness will surround us and nothing else. But the longer we fall, the more power we will gain. The more level ups we will be granted. Do you understand, Puis?"

Darth Puis: "Of course, master! But... how do we stop?"

Darth Vice: "Stop? Why would you want to stop?"

Darth Puis: "I wouldn't want to fall eternally. What would be the benefit of all that power without being able to wield it?"

How novel, thought Vice. He sighed as though reluctant to admit his apprentice's point.

Darth Vice: "You just move forward. You'll feel a sudden jerk and you'll land back up here. This means you'll have to remain quite still. And do not retract from the darkness too soon, else you won't gain your full potential."

Darth Puis nodded with a degree of trepidation. His master terrified him. It wasn't fear of him, or his power, but his willingness to push the boundaries of the universe without fear of reprise.

Darth Vice gave his young sith a last glare before he marched through the seemingly solid wall. There was no noise, no ripple in the stonework, no sign that the wall was holographic. It just looked weird. Broken. Glitched.

Puis followed suit. And plummeted. He fought all instincts to move. Leap to save himself. Wriggle and kick his legs. He might have closed his eyes, but the view wouldn't change. Deep void surrounded him. It was worse than the void of space, at least distant pinpricks of light twinkled back at you. You knew there was something out there. In the blackness of the glitched temple, there was nothing out there. Just darkness.

However, he could feel the power. He felt the level ups. As he continued to fall the power grew. He had considered himself talented before he turned to the dark side and followed Darth Vice, but this power was so much more than anything he had dreamt of. He knew he now lived up to his name.

He fell and fell. He thought there might be no end to the amount of power he could accumulate. But he knew he would have to stop soon. He wanted to use this power. He wanted to cast it. He wanted to kill with it. He would be feared.

He stepped forward. He felt a great crash as the world seemed to slam itself down around him. Puis felt as though he might vomit. His head swam. But the power was still there. It was still his. But something else was different. He felt distorted. Altered physically. His hand rose to his face. Where once had stood a handsome, albeit sinister, face was now a warped, mangled mess. His eyes felt twisted and narrow, his teeth were over-large. A gap had appeared. He thought he must resemble some old, withered man. He daredn't look at his body.

He knelt on the ground with his face in his hands. He was there, alone with his own despair, for hours before a gentle hand rested on his shoulder.

Darth Vice: "I see the glitch took its toll on you."

Darth Puis: "But... you appear just the same."

Darth Vice: "I am already broken. Nothing more to break. But now, I am also the most powerful sith in the universe. You pulled out early, as I knew you would. But you should still prove useful to me, young one. Now, we go. There is more to existence than this. More to existence than this universe..."
---------

Gap-toothed Old Man: "Hullo heroes."

Back in the Fortress of Stupidity, the NeS heroes were still contemplating the offer Vice made when the Gap-toothed Old Man reappeared. As per the agreement he made with Vice, he was prepared to appeal to the heroes better-nature.

Gap-toothed Old Man: "Think you could spare some booze?"

Relapse: "Uh... no."

Al Ciao: "Hey, you're that random NPC I came here with. What're you doing back? Thought you were just a fill-in element for that previous scene."

Rachel: "Funny when that happens isn't it? Usually means one of the writers has decided to make something more of the NPC..."

Gap-toothed Old Man: "Uh... like the poor, unfortunate bystander that needs protecting?"

Rachel: "Not bloody likely. Lack of blonde flowing locks and ample bosom."

Lucy glanced around with wild, paranoid eyes.

Lucy: "I'm auburn-haired, just really light! Please don't kidnap me!"

Although these words would usually have gotten her strapped to a rail line within seconds, the characters of the NeS were already engaged in a boss battle, so normal NeS conventions were set aside.

Vice: "Ignore the Gap-toothed Old Man. I reiterate my offer. Sign the contract and I hand over Guy Book. You'll then also have both of your Gebohqs back."

Bokken Monkey: "You know, that's like three Gebs. Is it me or is that just too many?"

Rachel: "There used to be others, you know? Ooooo, it'd be like a dream-come-true. Lots of Gebbies!"

Rachel seemed to fall into a besotted trance whilst everyone else was left with the issue of Vice and his contract.

Relapse: "Well, I don't think we can agree to it. Wouldn't command be a bit miffed if we went and signed something like this without consulting them first?"

Adrian: "Probably. Then again they're always miffed with us over something."

Tiger: "Yeah, like when I ate-"

Adrian: "They always complain when you eat something, Tiger. Usually because it's a main character or something."

Tiger: "You exaggerate!"

Adrian and Relapse cast long glares at Tiger as though they dared him to say anything else. The dragon, however, chose not to annoy his team mates any further and chose, instead, to eat a random brick.

Soriel: "Well, I won't sign anything either. I admire your devious plot. It's very clever, but even with this Story Arcade in place, the good guys will still win. They always do. It's how the NeS works and placing some fancy gimmick on it only changes how the rules work, not the core basics of the game."

Vice paused. He considered Soriel for a moment longer than he ever expected he would. The once hot-headed, blood-thirsty villain was now a hot-headed, blood-thirsty villain that had a deep understanding of the NeS mechanics. He was playing the good-guy role to win. He could beat the heroes of the NeS by being a hero of the NeS.

Vice: "Very clever. But this time, I think you'll find I can win. You see this isn't a game, Soriel. This is a story. It is written, not played. There are no mechanics. There is only what is written. My Story Arcade formulates that writing, but ultimately the words on the screen are so very open. So very changeable on a whim of the writer..."

He plucked a pen from his pocket, much like one Thand from a previous post, and dropped the pen. And, in order to prove a point, the writer wrote that the pen floated. It floated until it burst into a flock of very cross-eyed pigeons which blundered through the room and deeper on into the fortress seeking a carelessly left-open window.

Vice: "Check mate, I believe. Darth Puis. Kill him."

The Gap-toothed Old Man pushed his drawn light sabre downwards in a killing arc. The faint hum of the beam resounded as it sliced the air. Soriel was, however, a character of stupidly uber proportions that had been designed for large-scale comedy carnage. One might consider him to have the power of the "plot get-out clause".

His magickal sword clashed against the light sabre and a look of deep determination was cast onto Soriel's face. He had thought long and hard about the direction he should take within this world he had been written to. He was certain he was right. The hero option was his path.

Vice: "Well, well. It seems the writers want to draw out your demise a few posts, Soriel. I do hope you have fun."

Fred: "Well, it's been a while since I got a good use! Say, is it just me or is there something really sexy about a red light sabre? [/size]

Soriel: "Fred... shut... up."

Darth Puis: "My name is Darth Puis, you ignorant fool."

Soriel looked into his face. No longer did he appear to be an old, ugly man. Instead he looked warped. Glitched. Broken. Soriel learnt that it does pay to give passing NPCs more speculation before writing them off as irrelevant.

Vice: "And just so that the rest of you don't get bored while the boys have their playtime, young Guy Book here is very willing to hack you all to pieces."

As Vice made the mental effort to cause Guy's limp body to attack the remaining heroes, words appeared over Guy's brown haired head; Vice used Vice Voice. Switch Stance - Select: Attack.

Tiger: "Crapcakes."

Adrian: "Always with the food! This gag has got to stop! You won't make it off the ground soon!"

Tiger: "Oh c'mon, I just said it instead of swearing! You know, there might be kiddies about!"

Relapse: "There's a censor switched on anyway."

Guy Book thrust forward with his sword, which appeared to be an imitation of the NeSian sword Gebohq wielded. The blade came close to Rachel's throat, which prompted the heroes to peek up. Things got serious.

Tiger: "****."

Relapse: "See?"

The Gaming Guardians charged forward, pushing Lucy and Rachel to the back of the group. They had the difficult job of stopping Guy Book without actually... doing anything to him.

Will our heroes manage to scrape through this epic battle? Will anyone bother to read the in-depth but pretty pointless bit of back-story for Vice? Will anyone be able to get their heads around the meta-NeSian concepts spouted by Soriel and Vice? Will Ego get any more screen time to fulfil his post count desire!? Find out in the subsequent posts of The Never-Ending Story.

In Cris B. Chicken, various heroes and tagalongs such as Nick son of Ares the God of War are sprawled across dirty fast food tables gorging themselves on chicken. Maybe, Ante, and Otter are still glaring at each other, but doing it while munching on food.

Voodoo goes up to the counter to order more french fries, when she sees a familiar face taking her order-

Voodoo: Joey?!

It is indeed the vorpal toilet brush-wielding Brute from the Convenience Store of the Damned Voodoo used to work at. His vorpal toilet brush is still mounted upon his back, although he wears a mustard-stained apron and a cap depicting Cris B. Chicken's logo on it.

Brute: Hello, VS.

Voodoo: What are you doing here?

Brute: Well, this used to be the Fast Food Store of the Damned, which I transferred to from CSotD, but it was bought by Cris B a couple months ago, and I stayed on.

Voodoo: But you're so exposed out here - aren't you afraid Tsolo or someone will come after you?

Brute/Joey's eyes glint, and he straightens.

Brute: VS, I was Josephus the Magnificent, founder of the Order of Janitors in ancient Atlantis back in the day. I've survived twelve millennia as a forgotten character, because as long as even one Janitor still lives, so will I.

Voodoo: Actually, Janitor Bob is one of the Forgotten now, too.

Brute: ...crap.

Ante: Hey, Voodoo, keep it down for a minute - the news!

All eyes turn to the restaurant's lone TV, on which the anchorman is commenting on recent events.

Tod Ayitsgon Narain: ...seven fugitives reportedly escaped from the Great Granite Fortress in Canada. According to James Sevenicci - overlord of Canada, nicknamed 'the devil', with alleged ties to the underworld element - Helebon, Vlad the Impaler, High Imp, Ni'kash, Hitler, Dart Wader, and TotallyEvil are very dangerous and not to be approached with anything short of a shickling stick. Yes, this is the very same Helebon who until recently ruled the world...

Ante: That's just bad reporting. Helebon's still trapped in my DarkFoil along with Vashuko and Darkside3000.

Tod Ayitsgon Narain: -in other news, the sudden influx of terrorists into every nook and cranny of the earth yesterday ended as suddenly as it started. The Company Kid, spokesman for the world's premier superhero team, Hero Force One, has released a statement saying that the Globalists were behind it. Their plans were foiled by a little-known band of heroes known informally as the 'NeS Heroes', although the Globalist leadership is still at large...

Maybe: Did we actually get credit for something in an international broadcast?

Tod Ayitsgon Narain: ...the organization known as the Forgotten have lodged a complaint with authorities that they are being forgotten. You may remember them as the eclectic group who deposed Helebon's lackeys when Helebon himself disappeared from his castle in the Dominion of Bleeding Eyes.

Ante: Naturally, no one acknowledges my role in capturing Helebon...

Otter: Or my leadership in that affair...

Maybe: You were drunk at the time, Otter!

Otter: Some excuse...

Tod Ayitsgon Narain: The leader of the Forgotten, known only by the code name 'Twin Suns', has informed international enforcement agencies that his people are being picked off one by one by some sort of assassin known as 'Tsolo'. Hero Force One denies having information on any such Tsolo in their archives, but Twin Suns insists he exists.

He shuffles some papers on his desk in an effort to break up his long hard-to-read paragraph of news.

Tod Ayitsgon Narain: But new information on the Forgotten reveals that they are in fact a subsect of NeStianity. Founded nearly ten years ago by the charismatic 'Poster Geb', this cult claims that the whole universe is in fact a story being written by not one, but multiple writers. Another NeStian subsect, a coterie of philosophers known as the NeScholars, have all been recently found murdered in the ruins of Big Ben. Only two are unaccounted for - one Matthias, and one 'N. T. Starr'. They are currently wanted for questioning, as international police and hero teams alike believe that the Forgotten assassinations and the NeScholar murders may in fact be linked as part of a greater anti-NeStian grudge spree...

All eyes in the restaurant turn to Antestarr.

Ante: Heh. Well, perhaps we'd better leave.

At that exact moment, an elite SWAT team, led by Hero Force One member Seraphim, bursts in through the doors, windows, ceilings, and floor. (One SWAT member merely rebounds dazedly off the glass door, but everyone ignores him.)

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

The Gaming Guardians are trying to restrain Guy Book, Soriel and Darth Puis aka the Gaptoothe Old Man are facing off, and Darth Vice is standing behind his desk, watching the whole thing.

Suddenly, a blade is put to his throat from behind.

Al Ciao: These are my scissors, which I use to trim my hair. They're as sharp as Fred Teh Uber Blade, so I suggest you do what I say.

Vice: That is illogical. You change your hair by will alone.

A miniature plothole appears and gobbles up the scissor blades, leaving Al Ciao unarmed.

Al Ciao: ...crap.

Vice raises a hand in an imperious gesture, and Al Ciao is lifted up off the floor. His hands fly to his throat as his breath starts coming short.

Vice: I have looked forward to this for a long time, "Al Ciao". Do none of your erstwhile friends know the truth?

Al Ciao: You are a shadow... of the real... TLTE... he and I... are friends...

Vice: If that is so, then he has lost his senses and is no longer worthy of the title Answerer. I think I shall kill you slowly, powerplayer.

Al Ciao: I'm... not... a POWERPLAYER!

A ripple of energy knocks Vice back into the desk, and Al Ciao drops to the ground, freed of the Force grip.

Vice: Oh, no? Then how did you free yourself? You claim to have reformed, but deep inside, you know the truth. Once a powerplayer, always a powerplayer. You must be Answered.

Al Ciao's one brown eye has turned as blue as its companion. A dangerous look has come into his eye.

Al Ciao: Don't threaten me. I might become... ambitious. You wouldn't like me... ambitious.

Vice releases a torrent of Force lightning in reply. Al Ciao is blasted through a wall.

Vice: Rip-offs of the Hulk won't save you now, powerplayer.

Al Ciao's eyes are bulging, as if some force within them is struggling to be free. Our 'newest' hero gets to his feet, fighting an internal battle.

Al Ciao: No... you won't... NO!

He is surrounded in a blinding white aura of power, which swirls around him for a brief instant. When the light clears, it is not only Al Ciao's eyes which are changed. His hair is now short and straight, black as the void, parted on the right. He is clothed in a black tunic and trousers, with a scarlet sash and red-lined black cloak and crimson shoulder pauldrons. Silver-white energy crackles in his hand.

Highemperor. The Ultimate Powerplayer.

With a contemptous gesture, Vice is thrown across the room, then lifted up into the air in the same position Al Ciao was in but moments ago.

Al Ciao/Highemperor: You DARE trifle with me? ME?! I am the Grand Highemperor of All Eternity. I'm the forger and fulfillment of destiny. I'm practically a WriterGod in my own right. My left hand is lightning. My right hand is thunder. My eyes are flame. My heart is ashes. Look upon me and tremble!

He pauses for a moment.

Highemp: Where was I?

Vice: You were... choking... me.

Highemp: Right. Prepare to die, Answerer, deprived of your suitably epic ending--

There is a sudden CLANG of metal upon flesh. Highemp drops to the floor in a heap, and in a bright flash of white light, he is restored to Al Ciao. Behind him is Rachel, wielding a cast-iron skillet.

Rachel: I. Hate. Powerplayers.

Vice: Thank you, madam, for your rescue. I think I'll let you live-

Rachel: Hey, I'm not done with you, either, Vice. Put MY Gebby-poo in a coma, will you...

Rachel brandishes her cast-iron skillet menacingly. Vice smiles cruelly, and takes a black cylinder from his belt. With the flick of a switch and a snap-hiss, a bloodred slash of light springs into life.

Vice: Good luck, my dear - you'll need it.

Lightsaber and skillet meet in midair with a crackle and a clang. Due to the story convention of dramatic duels, the skillet stands up to the lightsaber blade, and Rachel makes an overhead swipe, which Vice blocks in an underhanded swipe.

Elsewhere in the room, Soriel and Darth Puis duel. Across from them, Relapse has subdued Guy Book simply by pinching a nerve. Ninjas can do that stuff, you know.

Geb The Writer: Now wait a minute, Al Ciao The Writer! You can't put Guy Book out of commission that quick!

Al Ciao The Writer: But it makes sense, GTW! Relapse is a ninja, he could that!

GTW: When has this story ever been about making sense? The story convention is that you have to draw it out!

ACTW: Fine, fine. *grumbles under breath*

Noticing Guy Book is unconscious, Vice uses his control over him to storywield the Story Arcade through his mind into his analogue of the NeSword to reverse the last few moments. Guy Book is suddenly conscious once more, and Relapse has instead pinched Bokken into unconsciousness.

Bokken: Of all the rotten... zzz...

Lucy: Relapse - missed?

Guy Book jabs at Tiger with the sword, who catches it between his teeth and tries to take a big bite out of it...

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

In the desert, TLTE is currently flying through the air. It is a wonderful sensation, one of weightless, freedom... For just a moment, he imagines he is in paradise, floating, relaxing-

And then he lands upon his rump with a cracked rib. The Patriot stalks purposefully towards him, fists clenched.

Patriot: No more running, Commie.

He picks up a dazed TLTE by the collar.

Patriot: No more tricks.

With the jab of a finger, another one of TLTE's ribs is cracked.

Patriot: It's just you and me.

RAM: And me!

Patriot: Er, yes, and the random audience members.

And me!

Patriot: Um, and the disembodied voice...

Amal: And me, too.

Patriot: Oh, for the love of... We have to be alone for this, people! This is a dramatic showdown between two archenemies!

Amal: Then I guess you can't do it now. We're all here, and we're staying.

Patriot: Damnation. I'll have to come back another time.

He drops TLTE onto the ground, and turns to go-- and stops.

Patriot: Wait a second. I don't believe in that drivel about this being a giant story. I don't have to abide by "story conventions".

He advances towards TLTE again. Suddenly a red convertible slams into him from behind, sending him sprawling through the air. As TLTE leaps to his feet, the passenger door of the car opens, revealing a female raven-headed Russian secret agent within.

Agent: Agent 226! Get in!

TLTE: Come on, Amal!

The pair leaps into the convertible, and TLTE turns to face his former comrade, Nikki Krozhdovony, Agent 498.

TLTE: Thank you, 498.

Nikki: No problem, comrade. We agents in the KGB look out for each other.

TLTE: But wait - what are you doing here? Back on page 20-something of the original NeS, I was ordered incognito into infiltrating the NeS band, forbidden all contact with other agents or base, for fear of revealing myself. What are you-?

Nikki: You've been recalled, 226. Base has deemed these ragtag 'heroes' of insufficient worth to continue monitoring. Hero Force One is much more worth infiltrating.

TLTE: But I couldn't infiltrate Hero Force One - not with the Patriot's grudge against me.

Nikki: It's already BEEN infiltrated - the Company Kid is our man. Now, we're going back to Base.

TLTE: No, I can't.

Nikki: What? 226, what are you saying?

TLTE: I have friends in these NeS heroes, ragtag though they may be. And... there is a woman.

Nikki's gaze hardens. Quick as a flash, she takes a hand off the wheel as the desert speeds by. A gun appears in, pointed straight at TLTE's forehead.

Nikki: Base had a feeling you might say that, 226. I told them you'd never, but... I have to rub you out now. I'm sorry, tovarish.

Amal: Wait, no!

As Nikki's finger begins to squeeze the trigger, TLTE speaks softly.

TLTE: Nikki... the woman - is you.

Nikki's eyes widen, she sucks in her breath, her grip on the gun loosens--

And then TLTE has punched her in the throat and grabbed the steering wheel out of her unconscious grip.

TLTE: I'm sorry, too, tovarish.

He pushes her still form roughly out the driver's side door as the car speeds on.

TLTE: I'm sorry you got involved in this, Amal. As if evading the Patriot wasn't bad enough, now I have to evade the entire KGB.

Amal: That's okay, Tee Ell Tee Ee. You're my best friend. I'll stick with you forever.

There is silence for a moment.

Amal: TLTE... I thought you loved Losien?

TLTE: I do.

Amal: Then why did you tell that woman you loved her?

TLTE: *grimly* It was a ruse, to get her to drop her guard.

Amal: Oh.

More silence.

Amal: You're a very dangerous man, aren't you, TLTE?

TLTE: You have no idea, Amal. None at all.

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

NSP: Well, in case no one figured it out, I really am Highemp the Writer, returned! I do have a backstory for where the character Highemp has been all that time, which I'll get into in the course of the story, but for now, he is mostly powerless as a reformed and renamed Al Ciao.

However, like Bruce Banner/The Hulk, when tempted, he might turn back temporarily into a "powerplayer" - basically a cross between a Jedi Knight and a Green Lantern. Sorry this post wasn't as zany as could have been. Hope you like!

And so the swat, lead by Seraphim of Hero Force One, have invaded Cris B. Chicken. Most of the veteran heroes handle this with the same reaction they handle anything important: blankly staring at newcomers and waiting for them to say or do something to explain themselves. Ben, still processing real world reflexes rather than story convention reflexes, is nowhere to be seen.

Seraphim: Citizens of remain calm. A great evil walks among you but with the help of the local police, Hero Force One will restore order and balance.

Once again, all the heroes not in hiding turn their attention to Antestarr.

Ante: ...if you all weren’t just the thralls of the writers I’d feel insulted right now.

Seraphim: I speak of course of that woman right there.

For a moment it looks like Seraphim has lost her senses as she is pointing to empty table. Then it dawns on the heroes that at the empty table is a chocolate milk shake and chicken nuggets that are apparently eating themselves.

???: You know in the old days of this story, people could spy on their enemies and plot their long and painful demise in peace.

Fading into sight, the voice reveals herself to be none other than Totally Evil. Guess she tailed the group hoping they’d lead her to their new hideout.

Seraphim: The elements of the story have changed Totally. Turn yourself into Hero Force One and we will do our best to protect you both Jim and Marcus.

Ante: Interesting, I thought Hero Force Once didn’t believe in the story.

Ford: The Patriot doesn’t. As the arcane and divine support for the group, Deep and Seraphim probably can’t help but be in the know.

Ante: Maybe, but the story is still hardly common knowledge.

???: What in the world are you people talking about?

Both Ante and Ford pause before a moment before looking down under the table to find the source of the voice: Ben in rat form.

Ante: Case in point.

Ben: Ever since I’ve run into Otter again, it’s been story this and story that. It’s like you guys think you’re living some kind of television series or something.

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

Geb the Writer: Hmmm...

Otter the Writer: Uh oh. Geb’s getting dreams of grandeur again. Somebody hide the pen and quill before he starts trying to create more acts of great literature.

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

Back at Cris B. Chicken, the Mexican standoff between Totally Evil and Seraphim continues as Ford tries to explain the Neverending Story to the newest hero. Also, if anyone wonders why neither Otter or Maybe have spoke up in the disagreement, they should probably refresh themselves on Seraphim’s attire.

Ford: Ok, long ago in the ancient city of Atlantis there were a group of powerful mages who...

MZZT: You’re doing it wrong. He’s a modern man... um, rat. Keep the magic out of it. So, on a higher plane of existence then our own, in a realm called reality a bunch of people got together and started typing on their computers the composite works of Shakespeare. They tried to publish it but after reviewing copyright laws...

Ante: You’re both doing it wrong. Essential details before creation stories. And essentially our entire world is at the whims of powerless beings called the writers, whose sole source of assument is...

Ford: Wait, you just contradicted yourself. If you really want to describe the story you have to...

Seraphim: Excuse me...

All three heroes look up to see that both Totally Evil and Seraphim are both standing at the heroes’ table, staring at them.

Totally Evil: Is there any reason you brain jobs are talking so much. We’re having a dramatic encounter between good and evil, and we can’t exactly continue while you’re hogging the audience’s attention.

MZZT: Oh, we’re just explaining the NeSessities of the story to the newest member of our merry band of adventures.

Seraphim: You have new member of the NeS Heroes.

Ante: Well it’s not like he’s been officially initiated, but...

Seraphim: Well see him.

Ford: ...why?

Seraphim: All new heroes need to be evalutated as possible replacements for Company Kid. Honestly, even with all my power we just go through so many of them.

There’s a dramatic pause as the heroes look at each other, then look down. Ben, very sheepishly, pokes his head up. Still in full rat mode.

Ben: Um... hi.

Seraphim: …r ...ra ... ra ...RAT!

And with that Seraphim zooms up into the sky like a rocket. Since we’re inside a building, we’re left with yet another hole in the ceiling. The swat team members look back and forth between each other and then quickly leave, not wanting to face the likes of Totally Evil without Seraphim.

Chris: Great... at this rate I’ll have to hire the Tokyo Repair Squad in order to get the place up in running by tomorrow.

Totally Evil: Oh, I don’t think that will be a problem.

Oh dear, what trouble have our heroes gotten themselves into this time? Find out next time in the next installment of the Neverending Story Squared!

Ford: Well, that was fun.

TotallyEvil: But wait! I didn't come here just to steal your food and trash the place, I have an important announcement!

*TotallyEvil leaps up on the table and addresses the room.*

TotallyEvil: It is with a heavy heart that I must inform you all that my father, Doctor Evil, has fallen ill and can no longer run the family business.

Antestarr: Doctor Evil?!

MaybeChild: Doctor Evil?!

Otter: Doctor Evil?!

Cris: I don't know who that is.

TotallyEvil: SemiEvil, I need you to return to the family headquarters in Disneyland and help run our unspeakably evil empire.

SemiEvil: Father...

*Ante pats Sem on the back.*

Antestarr: It's okay buddy. As interim leader of the NeS Heroes I hereby grant you a leave of absence.

MZZT: Maybe we should all go with him. You know, for moral support. And Disneyland fun...things...

*Ante and Totally start to leave.*

Cris: I hope you enjoyed your stay at Cris B Chicken! We hope to see you again soon! Please remember to use the door and not the ceiling on your way out!

Ford: In other news, I think we ought to get to work on more pressing matters. Like for instance how Hero Force One is apparently turfing us out of the hero industry.

Ben: I'm no expert but it seems like their crack commando teams and personal jetpacks would give them a decisive advantage in this line of work. And also let's not forget their cool Hero Force One name.

Antestarr: Good point, rookie. MZZT, we need you to design and construct a bunch of rocket packs. Like seven. Or ten. Yeah, there's probably at least ten of us.

MZZT: How am I supposed to do that?

Antestarr: And while you're at it roll out an international marketing campaign. I'm talking internet banner ads, TV spots, the whole shebang. And get us an interview slot on Conan or Letterman or something.

Otter: Not so fast! It sounds as though you've forgotten our little gentlemen's agreement.

Antestarr: You're serious about this duel thing?

Otter: Deadly serious, my dear chap!

Antestarr: Fine, your funeral. Bring it on.

Otter: If you would be so kind as to select your weapon of choice and name your second I'll be happy to oblige you.

Ford: Shouldn't somebody stop them?

MaybeChild: Who cares?

Cris: My restaurant is broken.

Back in the Fortress of Stupidity-

Vice: "Seriously, are you going to keep on calling it that?"

... As I was saying, back in the fortress of stupidity the Final Battle!! was under way. Rachel Pi held her cast-iron skillet at arms length, her legs apart and her focus aimed upon Vice. Vice made a move, bringing his red light sabre in a horizontal arc, leaving a glowing trail in its wake. Rachel parried with her skillet, causing a distinctive 'frying pan' clonk sound.

Rachel: "Ah! What's that!?"

Vice: "What?"

In classic comedic style, Vice turned about to witness whatever phenomenon Rachel had seen, only to then receive a skillet to the face.

Rachel: "April Fool's!"

Vice: "That's cheating! It's not even April!"

Rubbing his throbbing nose, Vice was caught off-guard, again, and another pan to the face sent him staggering backwards and onto his rump. He was beginning this epic battle wasn't looking quite so epic any more. Embarrassing would be a more accurate term.

Relapse: "Ninja POKE!!!"

Once again Relapse missed Guy Book and jabbed Adrian in the ribs.

Adrian: "Cra-"

Relapse: "Oops?"

Tiger: "Seriously? What's wrong with you?"

Relapse: "I don't know. Let me try again..."

Tiger: "No!!"

But Tiger's protest was too late and Relapse was left with two twitching Gaming Guardians and one very awake Guy Book. Fortunately Tiger had chewed his sword, but Guy could still give Relapse a nasty slap.

Relapse: "Alright, I can't miss this time. Ninja POK-!!"

Relapse tumbled to the floor with an expression of deep confusion over the improbability of it all. He didn't even think it was possible to Ninja POKE oneself; like how you can't tickle yourself.

Soriel and Darth Puis, meanwhile, where having a perfectly serious and macho fight. However the levels of ridiculousness in the room seemed to seep into the one-on-one fight and caused a giant, pink cow to land on the pair of them.

Soriel: "No... way..."

Fred: "Could have, at least, been a giant, pink woman, but nooooo...

Vice: "Alright! Enough of all this stupidity!"

Uh, you are in the Fortress of Stupidity...

Vice: "No we are not! This is the Stark Stronghold of Starkness! Remember?"

Spoil sport.

Al Ciao: "Am I allowed up yet, Ms Pi?"

Rachel: "No! Bad Powerplayer!"

Al Ciao: "I weep..."

Our heroes on a Greyhound bus heading to Disneyworld--

Random Lawyer: *ahem* You can't say that.

I can't?

Random Lawyer: Certainly not. Greyhound Bus Line is a corporate logo - you can't just use it willynilly. Have you no sense of copyright laws?

Dude, seriously. You don't know where you're at, do you?

Random Lawyer: Just because you're the narrator of a story doesn't excuse you from the LAW, mister!

Oh, yeah? Well, let me call MY lawyer! What was that number? 1-555-555-KRIG. Right.

Random Lawyer: That's the stupidest thing I've ever heard--

Suddenly, Krig the Norse Attorney tumbles into the room and, in true Norse Attorney fashion, chops the random lawyer's head off with his battle axe.

Krig: Krig SMASH!!!

Thank you, Krig.

Krig: Krig hungry.

A pie appears in front of Krig.

Krig: Mmm! Thank you, funny invisible man!

Ahem. So, as I was saying, our heroes are riding to Disneyworld - wait, are we talking about DisneyWORLD, in Florida, or DisneyLAND, in California? Someone clarify this please - in a Greyhound bus.

Otter: "Wait till we get there," he says. I think Ante's just scared to face me.

Maybe: That, or...

She jerks her thumb over to Ante's seat. Otter looks to see Ante pulling out an assortment of weapons from various places in his attire.

Ante: Personal Singularity Generator Gun? Lightfoils? LightclaymoreEX? Obligatory sniper rifle? Pistol-sized rocket launcher? *sigh* I just can't decide which weapon to use in my duel...

Otter: Showoff. All I have to choose from is my huskarl sword or my Vulcan's flame.

Maybe: You aren't drinking any more... right?

She raises her eyebrows meaningfully.

Otter: No, I'm not... I guess that just leaves the huskarl sword. You know, it was handed down to me from my great-great-grandfather, TheBadger, who was the first in my family to get the Vulcan's flame power. Did I tell you the story of how he almost married one of Queen Victoria's daughters?

Maybe: Only about a hundred times.

Otter: What about the time he was tortured by the demon warlords?

Maybe: A thousand times.

Otter: Or when he fought the dire badger in Armenia...

Maybe: Yep, that one too.

[/end shameless NeS1888 plugin]

Elsewhere in the bus, MZZT is on his cell phone.

MZZT: Yes, I'm trying to reach Conan O'Brien... NO, I don't want his autograph, I... that's right, I want to be on the show... no, not in the audience... but... don't hang up-- Crap.

Ford: No luck?

MZZT: Nope. What about you?

Ford: I've tried Letterman, Leno, Oprah, Ellen DeGeneres... none of them. I mean, I can conjure up demonic, celestial, and otherworldly entities, no questions asked, but try to get through to a real-world celebrity, and SLAM! go all the doors.

MZZT: Did you just say "real-world" with a straight face?

They break into uproarious laughter. Still elsewhere on the bus, Nick son of Ares and Ben the wererat are chatting.

Ben: Hi, I'm Ben. Please tell me you're not like the rest of these crazies. *lowers voice* They actually think we're in a TV show or something...

Nick: Oh, no, don't worry about me. I'm just Nick, son of the God of War.

Ben: Oh, dear God, another one...

Nick: Did you just take my dad's name in vain?

Ben: Huh?

Nick: Just which God were you referring to there, buster?

Ben: Uh...

Ben is saved because at that moment, Seraphim crashes through the Greyhound roof. Her dress of light shimmers as her eyes rove about the bus. Her eyes alight on Ben, and she strides toward him.

Seraphim: Are you the newest hero here?

Ben: Um...

Seraphim: Speak, man!

Ben: Hero, I think, is a drastic term. No, I'm more of a sidekick.

Seraphim: Perfect! That's just what the Company Kid is - the Patriot's sidekick. You're next in line for the job, once the current one kicks the bucket.

Ben: Um, actually, I'm already Frederick J. Otter's sidekick...

Seraphim: This ain't Vietnam, kid. You can't weasel out of this with an excuse or by running for the border.

Ben: But--

Seraphim: When the current Company Kid is pushing daisies, I expect you at the Hero Force One commando Hovercarrier promptly. Understood?

Ben: Er...

Seraphim: Very good.

Otter: Hey, Ben! Wanna be my second?

Ben: Do seconds have as high a fatality rate as Company Kids?

Otter: Nope. Although in the NeS, you never know...

Ben: There he goes with the "story" thing again...

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

TLTE and Amal have driven the red convertible into London, which is still rebuilding from Helebon's brief dominion. TLTE pulls up outside the former hellish citadel, where a green Dodge Viper is parked.

TLTE: Alright, Amal. The Patriot should have almost caught up to us by now. Just stay out of the way, and you'll be fine.

Amal: But, TLTE, what about you?

TLTE: I have a plan...

Sure enough, Patriot comes stomping up, making angry footfalls that leave dents in the concrete sidewalk.

Patriot: Commie. Your time has run out.

TLTE: Bring it on, comrade.

Patriot draws back a fist in an obvious tell, and TLTE sidles out of the way at the last possible instant--

The green Dodge Viper parked behind TLTE didn't have a chance, and is now so much scrap metal.

TLTE: Check.

Patriot: What trick is this, Commie? A broken car? How does that--oooff!

A blast of lightning knocks the Patriot off his feet. Standing upon a dark thundercloud, Ares God of War descends to the ground.

Ares: You DARE wreck my prize possession?! For that, interloper, you shall PAY!

Patriot: *getting to his feet* Oh, good, another two-bit villain. Look, I am the Patriot--

Ares: I don't give two shakes of Sugar Dumpling's tail who you are. I was just in the neighborhood looking to buy this fine citadel, a perfectly innocent citizen, when YOU show up and destroy my personal property! DIE!

As Ares and the Patriot face off, TLTE and Amal leap back into the red convertible and put the pedal to the metal...

Back on the bus to Disney World, a very desperate woman approaches Seraphim before she leaves through the sky light again.

Voodoo: Excuse me, Seraphim? I’m Voodoo Snowflakes, and with the threat the posed by the Gobalists through the Trans Terra Terrorists eliminated... are the professional heroes recruited by Hero Force One going to come home soon?

Seraphim: I’m sorry, fair citizen, but no. While the Trans Terra Terrorist threat has been temporarily relieved, the Gobalists are still at large and a threat to all. But come, tell me the name of the hero who has your concern and I will relay it to him.

Voodoo: Cadrill, maim.

Seraphim: Sarn Cadrill? That... um... did you know him personally?

Voodoo: Well I’m kind of his love interest. Or he’s my love interest. Anyway, you know him? Is everything alright?

Seraphim: ...of course! Of course. Everything is just fine. Sarn is just very... diligent. It might be awhile before can get a message back to you. Now, I must return to the Hero Force One hovercraft. Be well fair citizens!

And with that, Seraphim raises her arms and flies out the bus’s skylight. The heroes breath a collective sigh of relief that she didn’t damage another part of the bus on her way out... until they notice she didn’t exit through the same skylight she entered through.

MZZT: Geeze those guys are trying to upscale us even on property damage.

Ford: Well until they turn a gas giant into small star, they have a long ways to go. Not that we want to advertise our involvement in that...

Otter: You know, they kind of outclass us on superpowers too. Maybe some of you norms should expose yourselves to kryptonite or something once we’re done saving Disney Land.

Ante: One, that won’t work. Two, you’re in no position to be calling the rest of us norms when you’re basically neutering yourself by giving up alcohol.

Otter: Hey, the Vulcan Flame can be powered by things other than alcohol. Most of them just happen to be lethal for the human body to consume...

Maybe: Oh for goodness... Totally? Are we almost at Disney World yet? Otter and Ante are getting a little impatient with the wait to kill each other back here.

Totally: Almost. We’d actually be there already is someone didn’t insist on fallowing traffic laws.

Semi: We can’t afford to break traffic laws with a wanted criminal in the bus. We’re lucky Seraphim didn’t do a thorough search of the bus.

Meanwhile, further back in the bus, Ben attempts to have strike up another conversation, this time with Chris.

Ben: So, how long have you been with this group?

Chris: Oh, not long. Ever since they walked out on their bill, come to think of it. Speaking of which, I don’t think anybody paid for anything... not even damages. I wonder who handles the accounting around here.

Ben: ...right. I’ll just be talking demigod then.

Will the group ever reach Disney World? Will Totally allow Semi to spare his friends the death of a thousand lifetimes? Will he even want to with the way they’ve been ignoring him lately? Find out the answer to these questions and even more in another installment of the Neverending Story Squared!

*On the Greyhound bus, MZZT leans in and talks to Semi- and Totally-Evil.*

MZZT: So guys, what kind of fun stuff are we going to do on this wicked vacation?

TotallyEvil: Well, we're going to pay a visit to my ailing father who will try to convince Sem here to help out with the family business.

MZZT: That sounds good. I always wanted to meet Sem's relatives.

TotallyEvil: Actually, you're not invitied. Family only.

MZZT: Oh, so I guess we'll just staying in the hotel.

TotallyEvil: Actually you'll all be put to various ironic deaths as punishment for being heroes. For example, as the nerdy science type your brain will be amputated and inserted into a killer giant robot which will then terrorize humanity and do our evil bidding.

MZZT: What?

TotallyEvil: Your friend Ben will spend eternity attempting to escape from our man-sized infinite fractal rat maze whereas "The" Otter will drink himself to death on a steady diet of peanuts and beer.

MZZT: No!

TotallyEvil: Cris B will be forced to wait tables for rude customers until he takes his own life. MaybeChild will be eaten by an elephant.

MZZT: And Ante?

TotallyEvil: I can't think of a good one for Antestarr right now so I'll probably just drive this bus over him a few times.

MZZT: What about the pirates?

TotallyEvil: They'll be offered jobs at the official Pirates of the Caribbean ride.

*A rousing cheer erupts from the unemployed pirates. MZZT buries his head in his hands.*

MZZT: This is a disaster.

TotallyEvil: Well, it's not like you didn't know I was a bad guy. I mean my name *is* totally evil. Not much ambiguity there. Why did you even get on the bus in the first place?

MZZT: Everyone else was doing it...I just went with the flow.

TotallyEvil: Good plan there.

*MZZT shrugs.*

MZZT: Nobody told me not to.

Cris: Are we there yet?

*Nobody responds.*

Cris: This bus ride is taking like fifty-hundred hours.

*Meanwhile in the Story Arcade Relapse, Adrian and Tiger lie on the floor unable to move.*

Relapse: Don't worry guys, I know the Vulcan nerve pinch!

Adrian: Clearly you don't!

Relapse: No, it's okay! I saw it on Star Trek!

Adrian: You're not helping here!

Tiger: He's right. What we need is a plan.

*As the battle rages around them the fallen Gaming Guardians try to come up with a new plan.*

Adrian: Come on guys, think. What do we know about Darth Vice?

Relapse: Well, he seems to have based his career on Star Wars and Miami Vice...

Adrian: And what does that tell us?

Relapse: ...that he was cool in the eighties?

In Disneyworld, a lot of things are happening. I only get paid to describe story events, so think again if you think I'm gonna waste my time describing the various crowds and rides; if you're that interested, go there yourself!

Anywho, an almost-forgotten girl from the future is walking through the park, eating cotton candy, having enjoyed a day at a place that is the last refuge of humanity in the future from which she hails.

MagickSnowflakes: Wow, Disneyworld is a lot different back now than it is in my time... *munch* And the food is much better than those ration bars I grew up on!

A voice answers her from the side.

Voice: If you like, you can eat cotton candy every day.

Magick jumps as high as she is tall, and turns to see Sir Stafford, Forgotten Protector of the Plotfractal and C.E.O. of the Damned Corporation.

Magick: Who the heck are you?

Stafford: What, you weren't listening to the Narrator? He just introduced me, for crying out loud!

Magick: Oh, THAT'S what that voice is - I thought I was just going crazy.

Stafford: I'm here to make you an offer, Miss Snowflakes. As you have been forgotten, I wish to offer you a position at the Theme Park of the Damned.

Magick: The Theme Park of the Damned...?

Stafford: Otherwise known as Six Flags.

Magick: ...ah.

Suddenly Krig the Norse Attorney leaps in!

Krig: Funny man not make little girl work. Funny man breaking child labor laws.

Stafford: *sigh* You'd think that, once the whole world forgets you, all the lawyers would, too, but no...

Krig: Don't make Krig open can of legal whoop-butt on funny man!

Stafford: I object!

Krig: Krig overrules!

Stafford: Gentlemen of the jury, please note the illegality of one person being judge and prosecutor...

Random Audience Members #1-12: Actually, we're with him. We're scared of that midget maniac...

Krig reddens beneath his beard.

Krig: Krig not midget!

The little warrior becomes a rolling ball of berserker fury amidst the Random Audience Members, and limbs go flying everywhere. Stafford shakes his head and turns back to Magick.

Stafford: So, what do you say?

Magick: 'Fraid not, Mr. Stafford. Just because I've fallen by the wayside doesn't mean I'll be that way forever. I'm just waiting on Gebohq to be revived, cuz then, according to history, he and Miss Rachel will marry and have Gebswoq!

Stafford: *shaking head* Miss Snowflakes, I'm afraid that you merely come from one of many possible futures, and at the moment, it seems that your future will remain merely a possibility, as I doubt Mr. Ohq and Miss Pi will remain together.

Magick: *defiantly* If that's true, then why am I still here?

Stafford: Just because a future is merely alternate doesn't mean that it is any less real.

Magick: ...that makes no sense.

Stafford: You're in the Neverending Story. What else do you expect?

Magick: Well, I'm sorry, Mr. Stafford. I believe Gebohq and Miss Rachel WILL get together, so I have to say no. That's my final answer.

Stafford: Very well then. Stay close to your older sister then; she and the other heroes are on their way here.

And with that, he is gone. Magick shrugs and keeps walking, eating the last of her cotton candy.

In the tallest tower of the Disneyworld castle, Dr. Evil is laying back on a medical cot, battling various aches and pains with morphine. Both legs are in duct tape casts, as well. The bed is surrounded with black flowers and "GET EVIL SOON" cards from various ill-wishers. On the wall hangs Austin Powers, frozen in carbonite.

At the moment, Dr. Evil is arguing on the phone with Jim7.

Dr. Evil: No, I'm not turning in my daughter to you!... no, I don't care that she's a fugitive from Canada, Disneyworld is MY domain... so what if you bought Walt Disney's soul, you haven't got mine!

He hangs up, and calls in his youngest son, Scott.

Scott Evil: Yes, Father?

Dr. Evil: Prepare to defend our evil Disney realm. The Devil is coming down in force to lay siege to us, in an effort to extradite your sister by force.

Scott Evil: But she isn't even here yet.

Dr. Evil: Don't bother me with inconsequential details like that... Oh, BTW, she called ahead and told me - we have new employees for the Pirates of the Caribbean ride, fire our current ones.

Scott Evil: But I'M the current staffer on that ride!

Dr. Evil: Don't bother me with inconsequential details like that...

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

In the World of Writercraft...

Al Ciao The Writer: Hmm, I can't end my post without throwing in a cameo of the Incalculable Ego... and I've got to figure out how to write for Ni'Kash, since he's from a story I know nothing about. *snaps fingers* I've got it!

A sinister chuckle can be heard from Al Ciao the Writer's cubicle...

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

In a random location in the NeS world, Ni'Kash is striding along, scheming evilly, when IE swoops down on him and gobbles him up!

IE: Bwahahahahahahahahaha!

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

In the World of Writercraft...

Al Ciao The Writer: Bwahahahahahahahahahaha!

Benjamin the Writer: Someone around here doesn’t want people apologizing for long posts. Well, I won’t, if only because this took me most of the day to write this, but please heed my warning: if you’ve been holding it in, use the bathroom NOW. You have been warned.

Back on the bus hurtling to certain doom, the heroes and assorted hero like types huddle together in the back of the bus to discuss how in the world they’re going to get out of this one. In the front of the bus Totally looks on in smug satisfaction while Semi keeps his eyes on the road. As for the pirates... well they’ve been herded to the front of the bus in order to keep the weight balanced.

Red: Great, another fine mess you’ve gotten us all into.

Ben: Who are you talking to... and weren’t you a guy five minutes ago?

Maybe: Bens right. We all got on this bus of our own free will. ...though come to think of it, I don’t remember getting on the bus.

Ante: It’s the writers. They skipped the step of us coming to a decisive conclusion to instead just rail road us onto this road trip in order to keep the story active. No free will, not even the illusion of choice, just pushed along to the next plot point with consequences [censored].

Ford: We’re heading to Disney World, not Canada.

Nick: Same difference.

MZZT: So what’s the plan? We’re not just going to go down without a fight, are we?

Otter: ...I have a plan.

A dead silence falls over the group. The silence stretches out for an uncomfortable moment before someone finally speaks up.

Voodoo: Which is?

Otter: Everybody else rush into the park while I stay behind and ignite the bus.

A dead silence falls over the group, again.

Ante: Not to discourage you to throw your life away in a semblance of heroic sacrifice, but how does that help the rest of us survive?

Otter: Disney World is still an amusement park. All you guys need is a good distraction to make your way in and hide.

Maybe: But Otter... there has to be a better way to make a distraction?

Otter: We don’t have time for one! This is your... only... [censored].

Otter’s explicative is very justified as the bus is now making a puttering sound. It eventually comes to a complete dead stop... right in front of the front gates of Disney World.

Semi: There! We made. Told you we didn’t need to stop for gas.

Totally: Oh, good for you. Now find us a parking space.

There is a moment of silence as Semi fumes and Otter pouts as the rest of the heroes try to think of what to do. Eventually the decision making is taken out of their hands as the roof of the bus is ripped off by a giant. And since this is Disney World, the giant in question is none other then Willie.

Willie: Ms Evil? Mister Evil? We’ve been expecting you... but who’s the rest of those... those...

Totally: Their prisoners, Willie. Well, except for the pirates, we’re employing those.

Willie: Oh, you want me to take care of them?

Totally: Yes. Lock them up in lawyer pits until I can find time to put them to ironically appropriate deaths.

Willie: Ok Ms Evil.

With with that Willie reaches down and scopes up the heroes with his free hand. The heroes, be it because of the hand or the impending lawyer pits, can only scream.

-----------

And so, deep within the bowels of Disney World, Otter and Benjamin find themselves sharing a cell. Cell is used in a loosest of terms here, as their confinements aren’t confined but is instead a twenty foot pillar in the middle of a huge expansive room. Similar pillars with their friends are within sight, but for better or for worse are at least a block away. Down below in the pit, lawyers swarm about with snapping briefcases.

So isolated from each the others, Otter and Ben sit with the sound of snapping briefcases in the background. They’ve been stripped down to nothing but a pair of prison pants, but that is hardly the most awkward part of the situation.

Ben: So... this happen often?

Otter: Being taking prisoner... on and off. Lawyer pit is a new one.

There’s another moment of tense silence before the Otter speaks up again.

Otter: So, how’ve you been?

Ben: ...you’re joking, right?

Otter: Nope. You said we had a lot of catching up to do mate, and while you probably meant over a pint at the pub, this is probably going to be our best and last chance to do so.

Ben: So you think this really is the end...

Otter: Naw. Story conventions won’t allow it. But the Company Kid won’t last much longer, given the red shirt convention, so give. What have you been up too?

Ben: Right... where to begin...

-----------
Many years ago in a small British hospital, a young man in head to toe burns wakes up to find himself hooked up to life support.

Otter Narration: Mate, you need to start earlier then that.
-----------

And back to the present.

Ben: Why? That’s about where our stories parted.

Otter: Yeah, but it isn’t the beginning of our story.

Ben: But you already know of our story.

Otter: Yeah, but the readers don’t.

Ben: ...

Otter: Well do it for the lawyers then.

Ben: Fine, but you’re going to give me a hand with this. Now let’s set the setting for your “readers” with the cast.

-----------
Ben Narration: To start with, of course we have to start with the leader of our little group.

Otter Narration: Don’t tell me Geb is intruding into our backstory...

Ben Narration: ...I’m talking about you. How much have these people been stepping all over your self esteem?

Fredrick J Otter... high school heart throb? Not quite. The Otter back then was the Otter we know now, only younger and a little be less muscular. While dressed in a school uniform, Otter does his best to rebel, wearing a shirt reminiscent to the one we all know and love underneath his jacket. Bowler hat and beard not included.

Ben Narration: See, perfect model of high school leadership.

Otter Narration: High school leadership is one thing, but I have higher goals now. But you... what happened?

Benjamin Mahir... high school rich boy. And no, we aren’t joking. In a perfectly fresh and cut school uniform, the Ben of yesterday is even more like the Ben of today then Otter was. Differences... mostly he’s well groomed.

Otter Narration: You’re my best friend mate, we’re having this conversation to find out what happened.

Ben Narration: I know your angry at your new mates, mate, but I’m not your best friend now, and I certainly wasn’t your best friend back then. It wouldn’t have hurt so much if I was.

Otter’s best friend in high school, a normal clean cut chap in a school uniform. Unlike Ben this uniform is slightly thread bare, and unlike Otter there is no effort to defy the standards. He’s plain, he’s smart, he’s Nicolas.

Ben Narration: Reliable Nicolas. What in the world we were doing with a pair of nuts like us?

Otter Narration: Oh, I have an idea of what he was doing.

The final part of the puzzle, the female forth wheel. Dressed in the feminine version of the school uniform, she fills it out... not really excessively. Her beauty lies in assets other than her assets: smooth rosy red cheeks, soft green eyes, straight flowing hair, an innocence in her posture... her name...

Otter Narration: Jennifer... I’ve downed a hundred times over my own body weight in alcohol just to forget Jennifer.

Ben Narration: ...sorry.

Otter Narration: You don’t have to apologize for this. I’m the one who asked to go back to our story. I should have remembered it would include... remembering.

Ben Narration: That wasn’t what I... never mind. Besides, it wasn’t all bad. You guys made that school the best four years of my life. Never a dull moment.

Otter Narration: Heh. Wasn’t any NeS, but yeah, it was pretty fun. Only thing we were missing for a Scooby Doo parody was a talking dog.

Ben Narration: Yeah... in some ways it was good we couldn’t see the end coming.

Otter Narration: ...we should have saw it. The signs were there even as early as Junior year when me and Jennifer started dating. Be we didn’t see it. Not till...

Prom night. And yes, for those narration faithful, I’ll be taking it from here for at least the next few paragraphs. What, you actually want dialog to go with this? Sorry, but the writer is trying not to have this sketch rob the spotlight... not to mention write the thing in one day.

So, prom night. Wisely set after graduation at this particular institution so the students can get as wasted and laid as they want and not have to worry about ruining their exams that have already happened. Not that any of that is happening at this particular prom... ok, well at least not in the dance hall where we find Otter and Jennifer finishing off a fast song.

The song ends, they excuse themselves from the dance floor, and look at each other. Not deeply, but warmly. Otter, who while in a suit is sporting his now traditional bowler had and the beginnings of his beard, excuses himself to get them some punch. As he leaves, Jennifer just stands there, looking pretty in her sea green dress despite all she’s doing is standing there trying to be unobtrusive.

Now, cue the beginning of a slow song, and as the crowd on the dance floor parts giving Jennifer a perfect view of Nicolas standing across the dance floor just starring at her. Their eyes meet; they start to move toward each other, and...

... we break away back to Otter, who is at the punch bowl talking to one of the nights many wall flowers, Benjamin. They talk in a manner of high school comradely, with Otter’s outgoing nature somehow mixing with Ben’s uptight formality of the occasion. Eventually Otter doesn’t take no for an answer and all but drags Ben back to join Jennifer since they’ve kept her waiting long enough.

Or possibly they’re coming back too soon. Jennifer and Nicolas are on the dance floor, in a predictable alone in a crowd moment. Their eyes are locked, but they’re also talking. Talking about how they feel, how they should feel, how they shouldn’t be doing this. Jennifer is about to break away when Nicolas makes his move.

Cue the sound of dropping cuts and spilling punch. The magic of the moment breaks and they both turn to find Otter starring at them, Ben just a few steps to his side. Time seems to freeze for these four as the rest of the ballroom goes about their business. And then, as fast as they froze, they unfreeze as the Otter bolts for it.

Cut to the stairs outside the school as Otter descends them. A voice calls out. He turns around and looks, and all three of his friends are coming after him. They stop a few rungs up the stairs above him. Jennifer reaches out her hand, and for a moment Otter almost turns around...

...and then he notices that Jennifer and Nicolas are still holding hands. Not intentionally, as all their attention is on him, but unconsciously as they just reach for each other in this moment of tension. And that’s when Otter really starts running. Ben follows, but when Jennifer and Nicolas turn around to try and follow too, Ben says something to them that stops them in their tracks.

Ben Narration: ...they didn’t deserve that.

Otter Narration: Deserve what?

Ben Narration: It... doesn’t matter anymore.

And so somewhere on the streets of this English city, Ben catches up to Otter. He approaches him, puts his hand on his shoulder, and says something he’ll regret for the rest of his life.

Ben Narration: And I still am...

Otter Narration: Mate, this it what you where sorry about? Dude, if anyone can appreciate the curative powers of alcohol it’s me.

Can someone cue up Kenny Chesney’s Out Last Night? Thank you.

And so, the two friends go out on a bing around town to mend a broken heart, like only foolish post teens try to do. Don’t ask how they did it without being carded. Highschoolers with less of a cause have been finding a way for years. What’s important is the climax on top of an English city cobblestone bridge. Ben’s balancing on the edge with no restraint, and if Ben has no restraint then it is probably a miracle that Otter still has his pants on. Despite the drunken stupidity, everything looks fine.

And then like a wisk, something inside Otter hits a saturation point and everything for about five yards outwards from the lad bursts into flames. Going from wasted to dry in about one point five seconds, Otter has the mother of all hangovers, but nothing compared to when he hears Ben make impact with the water two point five seconds latter.

Otter Narration: I should be the one who’s sorry. I know about my family history. You didn’t.

Ben Narration: It was still a stupid idea that ruined everything for both of us.

And now we open up in the hospital scene that Ben tried to start us out in. With Otter filling in the details we know that he’s outside the room. Now for long though, as Ben’s parents arrive and chase him off. Though not before unloading a bunch of righteous furry, justified and not.

And so Ben’s parents enter, crying and shouting. The medical doctors make their evalutations, and there is more crying and shouting. And then... a man enters the room.

-----------
Ben: ...Doctor Flint. He came promising... a cure.

Otter: Since you don’t have third degree burns I’m assuming it worked.

Ben raises an eyebrow, and in a poof of special effect smoke he assumes his rat form.

Ben: It has some unadvertised side effects.

Another poof and Ben assumes his normal form.

Ben: Doctor Flint was looking to create the perfect strain of zooanthropy. He came pretty close with what he infected me with. No weakness to silver, no violent reaction to the full moon, and even control of which form I’m in... after some practice. It wasn’t perfect though; I don’t have a hybrid form or rapid regeneration, though I do have perfect regeneration which is an entirely different can of worms. And of course the zooanthropy itself was a bit... random. I could give you an injection of my blood right now and you could turn into anything from a werewhale to a wereworm.

Otter: I have a feeling I know what I’d turn into, but let’s not go down that route. ...so why did your family estate burn down?

Ben: Doctor Flint had enemies. There’s a magical underbelly to the world, Fredrick, and some of those “people” don’t want there to be a perfect strain of zooanthropy. As one of his subjects, I became a target. It’s a pity they struck only after Doctor Flint moved on.

Otter: ...so your parents?

Ben: Yeah… they’re ash.

Another moment of tense silence follows.

Otter: And after that?

Ben: *sigh* Fred, I don’t want to go into detail my years of living in the gutter any more then you would want to elaborate your years of living in the bottle.

Otter: Honestly, it hasn’t been that bad. Ignoring the whole lack of respect thing.

Ben: And honestly, while I don’t believe in your story convention, I do want to thank for giving my the opportunity to let me say this.

Getting up, Ben walks over to the Otter and collapses with his arms around him.

Ben: I’m sorry.

Otter is left in shock, not from the apology itself but from whom it is coming from; one of the three people he’s been spending his life drinking to forget. Of the three, Ben had the least reason to apologize.

The Otter is about to say something to that effect with his regular comedic twist, when on his shoulder a miniature version of Maybe with angle wings materializes. She looks at him expectantly, as if she expects him to know the correct thing to say without her saying something. It surprises no one more then Otter himself when he realizes he does.

Otter: It’s ok, Ben. It’s all ok.

*The stolen bus pulls up to Disney World and disgorges its passengers.*

TotallyEvil: Okay so we're here.

Semievil: Right. Time to go see the old man.

MZZT: No! Sem! You've got to help us out here!

Semievil: I would but I'm on leave.

MZZT: But you totally evil sister TotallyEvil is going to install my brain in a robot!

Semievil: That sounds like an improvement.

MZZT: WE'RE ALL GOING TO DIE!

Semievil: So make some hero noise or something. Whatever we usually do in these situations.

TotallyEvil: We really have to get moving.

*Sem and Totally leave.*

MZZT: Okay everybody, back on the bus!

Otter: I think not! I've had quite enough stalling and I insist that we fight like gentlemen now!

Antestarr: Hey, bring it on.

Cris B: Oh no you didn't!

Otter: Indeed he did my good chap! It appears the game is on, as you Yanks say.

MZZT: How come nobody is worried about the bad things that are going to be happening to us pretty soon?

Antestarr: Look, MZZT, relax. First I'm going to shoot this guy and then I'll shoot whoever else, alright?

Otter: Funny, that very thing was my heroic plan.

MZZT: But they want my brains!

MaybeChild: Don't worry. After these two jokers shoot each other I'll handle the bad guys.

Otter: Now then, does revolvers at ten paces sound fair?

Antestarr: Sounds like cricket old chum.

Otter: I'll thank you to not mock my British accent and my enjoyment of sporting events such as cricket.

*MZZT sits down on the curb as the two duellists inspect their six-shooters.*

MZZT: Well, this looks like the end for my squishy brain and all of it's sweet, succulent knowledge.

Cris B: If you're worried about you brains you can borrow my bike helmet.

happydud: Helmet won't help, unless it's made of tin foil.

Cris B jumps.

Cris B: Where did YOU come from?

Happydud: Oh, I just wandered in to make a single comment. It's a cameo, dig me?

Cris B: Er... sure.

Happydud: And now I'll just saunter back out. *saunters away*

Cris B: Right...

Hang on a moment. I'm confused. This last bit, given to me by TracerTheWriter, doesn't make any sense. I thought all the heroes were already at DisneyWorld and in the lawyer pits!

Al Ciao The Writer: What? Oh, drat. Who mixed up the real script with the rough draft, people?

BenTheWriter and TracerTheWriter point their fingers accusingly at one another.

Al Ciao The Writer: *sigh* Where's Geb when you need him?

Ante: There you have it, folks. Reason #1 why the writers should not be in control of the story.

Al Ciao, Ben, and Tracer the Writers glare at Ante, raising their ink pens in a threatening gesture.

Ante: Sure, you COULD cross me out with your ink pens - but then how would you get out of this mess?

TracerTheWriter: You saying YOU have a way out of this?

Ante: Of course. Don't you remember this happened once before? In your own reality, I believe - some of the writers turned anime, and alternate versions of them didn't.

ACTW: I sorta remember that...

BTW: Didn't the fix involve an egg and quantum mechanics or something?

TTW: I don't think I ever read that part... Egads, this neverending crap is long enough without reading through the whole ten years' worth.

Ante: Now, observe, as I juxtapose the two split realities back together into a seamless whole!

Nothing happens.

Ante: *ahem* I said, a SEAMLESS WHOLE! *sigh* Look, writers, if you don't give the Narrator the right script, nothing's gonna happen no matter what I do.

ACTW: Sorry.

Suddenly all the heroes are in the lawyer pits, but Ante and Otter are alone on a pillar in the center of all the other pillars, facing off with their guns.

Ben (the character) blinks.

Ben: Otter? Wasn't I just talking to you?

Otter: Yes, you were.

Ben: Then how'd you get over there?

Otter: Well--

Ben: And don't try calling it a "story convention".

Otter: Actually--

Ben: Honestly, I think you're just using it as a convenient catchall explanation.

Otter: No, it's not a story convention.

Ben: Oh. Well, alright then.

Otter: It's what happens when you bridge the plothole separating two divergent realities.

Ben: ...

Maybe: Honestly, hasn't ANYONE tried explaining things to the new guy? Didn't you just spend time with him in one of those divergent realities, Otter?

Otter: Yeah, but we spent it doing a flashback for the readers.

Ante: Hey, you gonna duel or what?

Otter: Yes! Hey, you gonna beat me over the head with that egg or what?

Ante looks to see his quantum-mechanic egg still grasped in his palm.

Ante: Oops.

Otter fires his pistol, shattering the egg into a million pieces. Ante glares at him, then pulls an impossibly-large PSG (Portable Singularity Generator) Gun from an impossibly-small pocket in his jacket, levelling it at the Brit former drunk.

Otter: Heh. Um... help?

A ruckus down in the lawyer pits distracts all the heroes, saving Otter. A ball of red hair and leather armor and double bladed axe is making its way amidst all the other lawyers.

Krig the Norse Attorney: KRIG SMASH PUNY LAYWER COMPETITION!!!

In a few short minutes, all the lawyers, save our furry Viking one, are dismembered.

Krig: Krig MUCH better lawyer than them.

MZZT: Awright! Thanks, Krig! My brain is safe!

As all the heroes and tagalongs climb down from the pillars, Krig wanders up to them.

Krig: Krig hungry.

A glint appears in the Norseman's eye as he looks at MZZT.

Krig: Krig want BRAAAAIIIIIINNNNNSSSS!

He lunges at MZZT, who lets out a bloodcurdling shriek and scurries off into the distance as fast as his legs will take him. Krig chuckles.

Krig: Tech-man funny. Krig go to sleep now.

And with that, Krig curls up in a ball amidst the dismembered lawyers and promptly nods off. Our heroes and tagalongs - excepting MZZT - look at each other vaguely.

Ben: So... what now?

Now, Al Ciao the Writer is gonna hit the "Post Reply" button, while he takes some time to think of what to write next!

Meanwhile (count=lots), on the floor.

Relapse: At least the ceiling's interesting.

Bokken: Dude...

Adrian: Relapse...

Tiger: Seriously.

Relapse: I know, I know.

Lucy, as the only one of that group still standing, is running in a circle around the fallen Gaming Guardians (Bokken too) as Guy Book chases her.

Lucy: Snap out of it, Guy! So help me don't make me... err... call for help louder.

Wooden duck: *quack*

Relapse: ...

The clockwork-wooden duck, and its friends, apparently appearing from nowhere proceed to walk over the stricken heroes. Just like that, the four are standing upright and unpinched.

Bokken: Where did they come from?

Relapse: Cupboard sent them. Ducks ex machina. Best thing to use against a plot device.

Adrian and Tiger: *face-fault*

Bokken: What's with you and wooden things, ninja?

Relapse: Cupboard.

Bokken, to Adrian: He's stopped forming sentences again.

Rather than immediately leaping into the fray, the GG plus Bokken just watch for a while. A giant, pink cow moos at them in a bored manner. Lucy glares at them every time she runs past. Guy Book focuses on his current target.

Tiger: Plan?

Adrian, to Bokken: It's contagious.

Relapse: We're not signing. Geb, our Geb, is still in his coma-quivalent back home. Letting Vice own this system changes nothing, he can shackle Guy Book anytime he wants to have something done. We're not beholding ourselves to a simple story construct. *picks up the desk plate* I mean, really "D. Vice"? Gah.

Darth Vice: Hey, I - *clong* OW!

Rachel: Heh!

Adrian: Ah. The best trope we've got going for us at the moment, love conquers all?

Tiger: Aww, that's cute.

Bokken: Gunna be sick.

Relapse: Yup. I mean, a plot D. Vice is just an exciting moment on the narrative path. He couldn't control this system if his pants were on fire.

Darth V: Look could *clong* OW! Quit it!

Rachel: Heh again.

Darth V: *angry now* *FORCE-PUSH!*

Rachel is caught, soaring backwards to smash into the wall - only there isn't a smash, instead there's a soft 'bounce' noise as she flies back into battle to lock saber-skillets once again. The wall glimmers with a slightly wood-grain finish as it wobbles back into shape, like jello.

Darth V: Ok, that's just stupid.

Tiger: so... We're relegated to distractions then?

Adrian: I see where you're going, Relapse. No. Our mission isn't Tall, Dark and Distractable over there -

Darth Vice: I can hear -swoosh-fzz-

This time, Vice catches the skillet with his sword.

Darth Vice: HA!

Rachel: *kick to the shins*

Darth Vice: OW!!

Adrian: It's freeing Lucy's brother.

Lucy: Getting tired here.

Tiger: ... and if this is the lair where you need a specific item to fight.

Bokken: *looking interested* That item must be here somewhere!

Relapse: *grinning behind his mark* Gentlemen. Begin operation: Ransack. Let's get Zelda(tm).

And lo, with great heroics and noble airs did the four start ripping open/ apart/ down/ up/ off everything they could to find a Key of Nonbrainmushery. Everything they didn't keep was hurled good naturedly at either D Vice to try and give Rachel more of an upper hand, or in front of Guy Book's feet to slow him down.

((Posted on behalf of Tiger who still cannot log in, conspiracy!))

The battle between Rachel and D. Vice rages on! But by now their struggle seems to have escalated to the extent that much of their maneuvers and actions are exaggerated. … And ridiculously so, even. At one point they both leap at each other and their weapons interlock momentarily, both suspended dozens of feet off the floor, the force of their collision letting loose a booming, colorful shockwave that rattles the walls of the room and shatters a window. Then they break, thrusting away from each other and in opposite directions. In the instant to follow Rachel makes like an acrobat and deftly, impossibly manages to roll and rotate her body in midair just in time to hit the wall at a crouch before proceeding to run vertically up the surface, while Vice does a midair summersault and flexibly lands on the floor, his momentum causing him to skim a ways backwards against the floor and towards the wall, forcing him to crouch brace himself with one hand to the floor. A trail of dust billows low to the floor in his wake.

Rachel: Not yet!

By the time Vice recovers and gains his stance Rachel is sprinting across the ceiling. Vice bellows a warcry and springs towards her, as Rachel in turn kicks off the ceiling, body twisting and bending gracefully. Bullet time commences, as they again meet high in the air, Rachel plants a foot in Vice’s face and uses the leverage to twirl, chucking her frying pan in some arbitrary direction as she then proceeds to barrel-roll downwards, over and along the staggered Vice’s back-side and safely towards the floor.

In the next instant Vice recovers enough to twist his body and bring his saber of light around in an upward arch, just in time to dissect the large desk that was hurtling towards him.

A fraction of a second later, Bokken Monkey is conked hard and painfully on the head with a flying frying pan, which so happens to ricochet off of his head and back towards the still-suspended D. Vice. A fraction of a second after this, whist Bokken Monkey is still in the process of collapsing into a senseless heap on the floor, one-half of a desk descends upon him.

Almost a second after successfully deflecting the desk, D. Vice too distracted to notice the frying pan’s round trip. By which time Rachel has landed on the floor at a crouch. And also by which time a booming crash can be heard coming from Bokken Monkey’s general direction. Time gradually begins to speed up back to normal. Rachel straitens and holds a hand out to her side, palm up, so as to grasp without looking her trusty frying pan, which falls neatly into her hand. But not before D. Vice unceremoniously smashes into the floor some ways behind her. The concussion of Vice’s plunge emits a slight breeze as well as an overdramatic mushroom-shaped dust cloud.

Rachel: Mm, there we go.

Bokken: Aaaggh!

Tiger: Oooh, sorry man! I was aiming for that other guy..

Relapse: Why’re you apologizing? He joined the dark side.

Tiger: Yeah, but still..

Relapse: Less sympathy, more looky..

Vice is coughing, on his knees, struggling to gain his senses.

Vice: What in the frick was that! I thought you said you hated powerplayers..

Rachel: I do. That’s why I had my stunt team set me up with these invisible wires ahead of time.

Rachel briefly glances off the set to acknowledge her stunts crew, camera man, special effects guy with a thumbs-up.

Vice: Wha.. th-that doesn’t even make sense!

Rachel: Pipe down before I.. urk..

Just as Rachel starts to approach the fallen D. Vice, her throat suddenly becomes constricted. It seems that somehow one of the wires has tangled itself around her neck. And her wrists. And her waist and elbows and hair and.. well, just about everywhere on her body! Then she suddenly rises off the ground, held up by the very invisible wires she had relied upon before – all of them having been seized by D. Vice’s awesome wielding of the force. Rachel struggles, tries to free herself from the wires, whist her stunt team uselessly panics and flees in terror (leaving only the cameraman and the special effects wizard). Try as she might, Rachel’s efforts to free herself are in vain. She has essentially become another one of Vice’s puppets..

Although the narrator would like to note here that Rachel had largely entangled herself on the wires with all of her twirling and -

Rachel: No one asked you!

Vice: *cough cough* Seriously, where’d all this dust come from? Don’t I *cough* have someone to.. take care of cleaning up around-?

Darth Puis: You did, until you fed her to the laser sharks.

Soriel: Oh, hey guys? Remember me? The guy stuck under the pink cow?

Adrian: Tiger! No, bad Tiger!

Tiger: B-but I was just helpin’ out-

Adrian: We do NOT eat poor, defenseless pink cattle while in the mist of an important battle to determine the fate of an entire universe.

Tiger: *pouts* Awwww..

Lucy: Can we please hurry this up?!

Guy Books has, by now, caught up to Lucy, and is now wrestling the poor woman to the floor.

Al Ciao: Ah ha! I’ll save y- whoa!

Vice: Not so fast, you.

D. Vice, who has, by now, regained his composure, and has largely refurnished his side of the office (restored the desk, force-swept much of the dust out the open window before restoring said window, and the flame-disks have been removed from the floor so as to prevent a fire), unleashes his force to restrain Al Ciao as well!

Vice: You have all gotten this far by –my- grace alone. I have let you run amuck with my minions. I have let you wreck my bar, my train, my stronghold, and even my plane and flying taco-

Adrian: Wait, that taco was your doing???

Vice, to Adrian: Yes! Everything that you witness I have brought to fruition! Me, alone. But I will not let you wreck my –one- office as well-

Relapse: Found it.

Although the ninja’s remark was not so extravagant as its significance, he did not fail to draw the attention of every single person in that room (and off the set, too). From the clock-work duckies to the still semi-conscious Bokken Monkey, and even the studio audience. For in one corner of the room, amid a lone file cabinet, the Guardian had stumbled upon the one weapon which the heroes would wield to finally bring an end to D. Vice’s reign of terror!

Everyone holds their breath in anticipation. Has the long struggle finally reached its conclusion? Find out next post!

Somewhere, a sub-plot was beginning to surface. It began as a random writer request, related to yet another sub-plot line, which, in itself, was inrspired by a sub-plot's sub-plot of sub-plottery. The sub-plotters are out there...


Regardless, the sub-plot surfaced. We now go to the Haunted House of Heroes, the Head-quarters for our daring team of NeS heroes. The still form of Gebohq, the team-leader, is suspended in his bio-tank, oblivious to the world outside or the brave efforts of his team to rescue him. Some of them anyway, the others decided to go off on a merry trip to Disney World.


The Haunted House usually has an eerie, empty feel to it; it is a haunted house after all. However there was something especially spooky about the building today. A presence. A presence of villainy in the very hub of heroics.


A slender, white hand came against the warm bio-tank and traced itself along the thick glass as though stroking a lover. Her cold, pale face rested likewise, the warmth of the life-sustaining liquid caressing her cheek. Her eyes closed with contentment. Her tongue ran along her lips with hunger, lust. She slowly turned her face, eyes still closed, and kissed the glass.


Nyneve: "Soon, Little Bloodink. Soon, I'll have you... all to myself..."


Nyneve, the last of the NeSferatu. A vampire-like being that feeds not on normal blood, but bloodink and the NeS world itself. She might be sustained by the Never-ending Story, but the lust is strong. Gebohq's bloodink calls for her.


Nyneve: "I never thought I'd say this, but I hope your hero friends are successful in defeating whatever evil holds you like this, Little Bloodink. It would much more satisfying to drain you when you're alive..."


With a sadistic giggle, the raven-haired Nyneve pulled away from her prey and disappeared into the shadows of the Haunted House. She wasn't a standard NeSferatu, of course. She had long ago learnt the runes and magicks of Stone Henge from none other than Mustang Aurelius Ford. The plot thickens!


DUN DUN DUUUUUN.
-----
Gebohq the Writer: "Seriously?"


Britt the Writer: "What? I think it's cool to tie in 1888!"


Gebohq the Writer: "But waaaaay too complicated!"


Britt the Writer: "As if the NeS isn't stupidly complicated anyway!"


Gebohq the Writer: "... I concede..."