Hyde Park, London

A figure hurtled through the air. So fast was his flight that a trail of dispersed air was left in his wake. With a tremendous crash the Patriot smashed through the historical monument known as the Marble Arch, sending stone and marble in all directions.

He hit the ground several times, skimming across it, until he finally came to a stop after one final, slow roll. His body lay motionless in the evening park. The area was deserted, the people having fled, leaving the two power-houses to their match. Ares, the god of war, floated over the arch and came to a gentle stop upon its top. He peered down at the hole caused by the Patriot's trajectory.

Ares: "Ah well. The thing isn't that impressive. Not as if it's a Roman Coliseum or anything. Come to think of it, my arena looks suspiciously Roman instead of Greek. Wonder what happened there."

The Patriot grunted as he hoisted himself into a seated position. Despite the fact that he had been thrown through several feet of thick marble, the American hero showed no outward signs of injury.

Ares: "Still alive then? I was worried for a minute there. Thought my car had been smashed by some chump."

Patriot: "I'm not one to go down so easily, buddy."

The Patriot staggered to his feet. Of course, it was all for show. The hero had to appear injured for at least some of the fight. Not that the Patriot was aware of such story conventions.

Patriot: "Y'all went and interrupted my fight with that Commie Russian. That's gonna cost you."

Ares: "I'm shivering."

With sudden renewed vitality, the Patriot ran at the Marble Arch. With agility that would impress Spider-Man, he clambered his way up the side of the building, using the various ornate embelishments for footholds (breaking most of them in the process, of course, like all good Americans with a lack of respect for foreign culture). He swung himself up onto the flat roof of the arch.

And received a kick to the head that sent him sprawling back down to earth again.

Ares cackled with glee. Very unsportsmanly.

Patriot: "Cheating Commie!"

Ares: "Commie? I'm Greek, not Russian!"

Patriot: "All the same to me!"

With a distinct flare of dislike, Ares glared down at the Patriot. Not only had this American mashed his car, but he refused to make a distinction of his cultural heritage from another so completely unrelated to his own, it managed to bridge gaps of time, space and realism.

He hopped into the air and rushed down as fast as a cannon ball, his leg extended and aimed straight for the Patriot's prone head.

The Patriot rolled aside and watched as Ares plummeted into the ground, sinking several metres underground where he got his leg stuck in a rather large clump of cement and earth.

Ares: "Fuq."

The Patriot, with an air of calm coolness, got to his feet and looked down into the hole Ares made for himself.

Patriot: "Too bad, Commie. Y'all gonna have to try a little harder than that."

A bright flash of red light burst from the hole, missing the agile Patriot by inches. This was quickly followed by an eruption of flame that burst from the hole, thrusting the god of war high into the air again. His sunglasses were still held in his hands, his eyes displaying their fury with red pupils. Beams of red energy were unleashed from those vengeful eyes, striking in two linear paths that converged on the spot that the Patriot had once stood.

Ares, with the sudden surprise that his target had scarpered, returned his shades back to his face. So much time spent wearing them meant that his eyesight worked so much better with them on. Unfortunately the time he spent messing with his sunglasses allowed the Patriot enough time to drag a lamp-post from its roots, spin it around himself to build up momentum, and released the long street-based object so that it flew straight at the unsuspecting god.

With a loud verbal curse, Ares was sent tumbling through the air under the force of the impromptu projectile. Before Ares had even landed, the Patriot followed up with a series of quick-shots from his revolver. Bullet-time ensued as the deadly missiles worked their way towards Ares. With a shift of his body, Ares pulled the lamp post up to block each bullet with a satisfying series of pings!. One, however, managed to get through and, with an overly dramatic motion, clipped the corner of Ares' sunglasses, shattering them to bits!

Ares landed upon the ground with two feet, scraping through the park's soft grass for several feet, leaving two muddy trails. Anger only increased at the destruction of his most treasured sunglasses.

Ares: "You swine! You know how much they cost!?"

Patriot: "You don't pay for anything, Commie."

Ares: "That's it. You're just getting annoying with that now."

With the same level of speed that he had thrown the Patriot at the Marble Arch, the god of war now hurtled towards the American hero. With bone-crunching force, Ares collided with the Patriot. Together they pelted, flying through the air, mere feet from the ground.

CRASH! as they launched themselves through a building and CRASH! as they came out the other side, having disrupted many people's sleep and bedrooms. They continued on through several more buildings, their momentum gradually slowing down with each wall they hit. With time, they come to a stop. Story Conventions were, of course, on the side of Ares due to the fact that he was the attacker during their wild rampage through London's buildings. The god of war came to a gentle stop, hovering inches from the deserted road. The Patriot came to a stop when he crashed into another wall, causing an ample Patriot-sized-dent. He slumped from the wall, showing plenty of signs that he was merely disorientated from the havoc.

Before the Patriot could be allowed to assume his composure, Ares planted a well-placed kick to the heroes chest. Symbollically, the Patriot's tall top-hat tumbled from his head. It was a sad day for heroics.

Dr R. Deep: "Alright, I've seen enough of this. Hero Force One. Form Up."

Morpheus-

Uh, Dr R. Deep, stepped from behind the building, taking up the centre of the road with all the drama of a Dark Knight entrance. His swords were still sheathed, one being a katana and the other a wakizashi, symbolic of 'ultra-cool-Japanese-sword-fighting-kick-a$$ness'. He took slow, deliberate steps towards Ares, first drawing his katana, which displayed a purple haze that lazily trailed after each blade movement, then the smaller wakizashi, which sparked with a hungry, electrical current.

Deep stopped and stood poised for battle, the smaller blade ready for defence, the katana ready for the killing stroke. However he made no further motion, his black trench coat billowing around him in a non-existent wind.

Ares: "Okay, that's pretty cool. I'll give you that."

Seraphim: "Surrender, you're surrounded."

The deep, authoritative female voice came from behind Ares. He turned around to see three more Hero Force One members, lined up and ready for action. Seraphim stood in her full glory, her clothing being created of splendid, transparent light that threatened to constantly reveal more than it did (not that there was much more to reveal!). Her dark blonde hair flowed and bounced over her shoulders with unnatural vigour and beauty.

With her were the doomed Company Kid, sidekick to The Patriot, sporting the usual cowboy get-up. He appeared somewhat more nervous than the rest of the heroic get-up, and his out-fit seemed to be a little too large, the previous Company Kid having been somewhat taller.

The final member of the troupe, and newest face to the NeS pages, was Judge. As with all female superheroes, including Seraphim, Judge was rather scantily clad and sporting rather grand feminine assets for fans to goggle at. Due to that 'special relationship' that the governments of Britain and America tout about, getting all warm and fuzzy together (conjuring rather disturbing images in the process), Hero Force One, the ultimate Uh-mer-uh-can (NSN: That line being courtesy of Gebohq ;)) team were given permission to set-up a base of operations on English soil; thus protecting American interests in Europe. That link being Judge, in her long trench splattered with the British flag, and skimpy underwear underneath, revealed by the fact she always wore her coat open. A fuzzy purple glow emanated from her hands, her powers telekinetic powers manifesting itself in a visible form.

Ares: "Wow... that was a really long introduction. Could have just said 'these guys' or something. I never get an introduction like that..."

Dr R. Deep: "Hey, this is a dramatic, cool post, stop bringing your fourth-wall comedy in here."

Ares: "Psh! I'm the totally awesome one here, I get to do as I like."

Dr R. Deep: "... Let's kick his head in."

Deep ran at Ares with an unexpected burst of speed. He brought the katana down, obligatory bullet-time accompanying the Morpheus-wannabe. Ares, with all the grace of a god, ducked, hands over his head.

The advantage of dual swords, of course, was that a second attack could be made, long before the first had come to its natural end. The wakizashi made a quick thrust at the cowering god, but Ares was prepared enough to fall out of the way. Sprawled on the floor Ares was wide-open to injury.

A floating red letter box loomed over him, a faint purple haze fluttering around it. Judge released it. It struck the asphalt and sprang open, spilling mail in every direction. Ares hovered several feet from the ground with an expression of deep irritation.

Ares: "Stupid mortals. Don't you know I can't be beaten?"

Dr R. Deep: "We'll be putting that to the test."

With a vengeful growl, Ares sent an inferno of flame at the trio set apart from Deep. The raging flames consumed the street in a great torrent of molten destruction. Judge and Seraphim, both with keen reactions, leapt into the air, flying to safety high above the attack. Unfortunately, Company Kid wasn't blessed with such powers.

The flame dissipated to reveal a little pile of ash that fluttered away in a convenient gust of wind.

Dr R. Deep: "Damn. Looks like we'll have to buy a new Company Kid outfit when we hire the next one."

Ares: "Well, I got one of you at least..."

Judge: "The bloody weakest one!"

Seraphim: "He could have died from too strong a wind!"

Ares: "What? Aw, c'mon! That was like... an awesome display of fire! I like, gouged the street in flame!"

Judge and Seraphim cast angry looks of eternal female rage.

Ares: "Alright, time for me to go!"

Ares fled, flying fast and high. But the two women were in quick pursuit, leaving Dr R. Deep to give The Patriot a few slaps to wake him up. Whilst the citizens of London were now missing out on the barely-clothed ladies of the sky, we get to see the air-bound battle in all its glory. But you'll just have to imagine the more descriptive motions of our beautiful heroines.

Ares came to a slow halt, realising he was being pursued by the aggressive women. He decided a couple of girls would be easy enough without their beefy boyfriends to back them up. Moments later he had Seraphim deck him.

Ares: "Ouch! God woman!"

Judge: "Which god?"

Ares: "Don't start that with me of all people."

Seraphim added a second fist to Ares' face, which sent him wheeling downwards with a hand clutching his aching jaw. The healer was proving she was capable of dealing damage as much as fixing it. She flew after him and grabbed his leg. After a few spins she released Ares, allowing him to flail through the air until he smashed into an aeroplane. Fortunately it was only a French airline.

Judge, in a seemingly gracious act, used her telekinetic powers on the distraught plane, holding it still in the air. For a few moments before she used it as a baseball bat and swatted Ares further into the sky. (She was, of course, nice enough to then land the plane roughly on the planet below. She was a hero after all! And we couldn't afford to be sued for injuring any French during this production).

Again the women gave chase of the unfortunate Ares. This time, however, the god was prepared to make a show of defending himself against these feral ladies. Seraphim came at him first, fist raised for a renewal of their former skirmish. The energy beams burst from his eyes and struck the light-clad woman, causing her to pirouette off into a fall. Judge came to the rescue, capturing her submissive body with her power.

Judge: "The language there was a little provocative, don't you think?"

Seraphim: "You're not meant to believe in all that narrator stuff, you know?"

Judge: "Oh right. Sorry, call me a n00b."

Ares: "N00b."

Seraphim: "Hey, only Hero Force One members get to call the n00b a n00b!"

Still with her power spread over Seraphim's willing figure-

Judge: "Seriously! Kids are going to have wet dreams after this!"

-Judge pushed Seraphim through the air with incredible force and speed. The American hero collided with Ares, knocking him for six. The god of war, growing incredibly tired of having his arse handed to him by a couple of girls, made good his escape by teleporting away.

Judge: "Wait, he could do that all this time?"

Villains always have that power, but it only comes into effect right at the moment they're going to be beaten! Not that Ares was really much of a villain. He was just miffed that his car for mashed by The Patriot.

Seraphim: "Anyone that attacks a member of the Hero Force One team is a villain!"

Even though the Patriot attacked first?

Seraphim: "Even though!"

There's American foreign policy for you...

The Patriot: "Commie Narrator!"

And now we return you to your normal NeS programming, after boring most people, and forcing the rest to simply skip this overly long post that had nothing to do with the main plot or even any kind of sub-plot.

*Meanwhile in the Disneyland lawyer jail (huh?)...*

Ben: So what now?

Otter: We simply devise and execute a daring escape plan as is befitting our heroic personages.

Ben: Oh good, so we're getting out.

Otter: However, I'm afraid we have more pressing matters to attend to.

*Otter removes his jacket and puts up his dukes.*

Otter: Shall it be fisticuffs then?

Antestarr: Bring it.

*Otter and Ante square off and begin their boxing match.*

Ben: Um, are you guys sure this is better than busting out of here and not dying?

MaybeChild: Relax Ben. Once these two knock themselves out I'll lead the team to victory.

Otter: Not bloody likely!

Antestarr: Dream on!

Cris B: Not to worry! I've concocted a simple four-step recipe for escape!

Ben: Really. Is step three in your plan just a bunch of question marks?

Cris B: Uh...

*Cris' brow furrows as he squints at his highly detailed notes.*

Ben: And is step four profit?

Cris B: I see you're familiar with my work!

*Suddenly the lawyer pit door swooshes open.*

MZZT: Guys, I was able to hack the electronic door locks! We're free and clear and our brains won't be powering doom robots anytime soon!

*MZZT notices the doom robot standing right outside the door.*

MZZT: Oh. Hey, can I borrow that bicycle helmet?

???: Welcome to Disneyland, heroes.

Antestarr: Doctor Evil!

Otter: Doctor Evil!

Ford: Doctor Evil!

Cris B: What up!

*Flanked by assassin droids Doctor Evil rolls his wheelchair into the room.*

Antestarr: Wow, you don't look at all like how I thought you would.

Ford: Yeah, I always pictured a pasty bald guy in a ridiculous grey suit but you've got a lush head of hair and are very well dressed.

Otter: Dapper, even.

Cris B: I thought you would be like a great big talking hard-boiled egg!

Doctor Evil: I've been wanting to meet my son's friends for some time.

MZZT: Hey, is Sem around? Can we talk to him?

Doctor Evil: I'm afraid not, for soon you will all be put to death and the free world will be mine. Once I issue the activation codes my terror droids will engage and destroy the military forces of Earth while my network of orbital laser satellites will commence with a strike on various critical government institutions. In the ensuing chaos I will seize power and keep the world forever under the crushing heel of my tyranny!

Cris B: You sure are one bad doctor.

Doctor Evil: Well, yes - hold on, why aren't you people listening to me?

*Absorbed in his evil monologue, the doctor had failed to notice the heroes returning to more interesting pursuits such as the Otter V. Ante heavyweight championship.*

Doctor Evil: Hello? I was just explaining my evil plan? You *are* heroes, champions of truth and justice, correct?

Antestarr: We've actually got bigger things to deal with right now.

Doctor Evil: ...I'm conquering the world.

Antestarr: Yeah but Otter thinks he's better than me.

Doctor Evil: Millions will perish!

Antestarr: Look if you want to make yourself useful pull up a chair and score this fight okay?

Up in the writer’s realm, the newest writer looks in over the shoulder of the second newest writer… at least assuming the Guardians won’t be hanging around, which is hardly an assured assumption. The NeS rarely lets go of writers easily. Just look at Otter the Writer and Maybe the Writer. They haven’t posted in (p)ages and for some reason the writers insist on treating their writers as still being a part of the writer’s realm.

…so, where were we? Oh yes, Benjamin the Writer watching Britt the Writer post his latest masterpiece.

Benjamin the Writer: Nothing to do with any kind of subplot? But you killed the Company Kid.

Britt the Writer: Yes, and dieing was his running gag. What’s your point?

Benjamin the Writer: Tracer (the Writer) set Ben up to be the next Company Kid when the current one died. Ok, well technically I set it up first, but I didn’t follow through since I only did it to get Ben to scare away Seraphim with his rat form.

Britt the Writer: Ah… well I guess we know what you’ll be writer next then.

Benjamin the Writer: Me? Oh no. After the back story post I said I’m staying away from Disney World for awhile and I meant it. Besides, the with the group in the Lawyer Pits at the moment it would be contrived to have some member of Hero Force One to burst in and drag Ben away by his tail. Not that someone else won’t do just that…

Britt the Writer: So what are you doing next?

Benjamin the Writer: Probably just a world tour of some side line characters. With Stafford recruiting we really can’t afford to allow them to be forgotten.

----------

And so a few moments latter down in the hero’s realm we find ourselves observing Losien as she prepares to start her new job, having been previously fired from assistant teaching for disciplining a child with a time out. What is her new job you may ask?

Losien: So, is this your first time giving blood?

Somewhere in the plot fractural, the story convention of disassociated semblance rolls over in it’s sleep, hit the snooze button, and sends us speeding away to our next target.

----------

Gathering at the border of Canada for the inevitable march on Disney World, the armies of hell prepare for a battle unlike any other. This march will not be led by Jim7, though. As important as reclaiming Totally Evil is, Marcus is a much higher priority. And so, the armies of hell have a new general.

Messenger Imp: Commander Qhobeg, we have word from the portal succubus Pine Store. She is ready to gate the army as deep as possible into the enemies realm whenever you give the order.

Qhobeg: Then tell her to wait for the sun to set on the world that Walt Disney built. The battle shall be long and hard, and our forces will need the strength of the night to overcome our foe.

Messenger Imp: But… our foe are a combined forces of evil foot soldiers and Disney villains. They benefit from the strength of the night as much as we do.

Qhobeg: Oh. Well in that case tell her to go as soon as Beta Squadron is done doing their Go Canada cheer routine. Have to keep up troop moral, after all.

Messenger Imp: Yes sir!

----------

Back at Hedgestone University, May B Childe and Theo Otto take shelter in the top story of one of the academic buildings. Outside, all the Lost Beta aside from Vice are engaging the endless stream of Trans Terror Terrorist in an epic battle for the dominance over world.

Otto: You know, I thought we were kind of lucky before, but now I’m not so sure. What’s going to happen when the Lost Beta lose?

May B: I’m… certain the mother nature will provide the answer soon enough.

Otto: …so basically wait for a miracle? God this isn’t a good time to be down to my last twelve pints of scotch.

???: You’ll need every drop, comrade. But for the celebrations when we have won, for the day is not lost yet.

Stepping out of the shadows, a figure so like the Lost Beta steps out that for a moment May B Childe and Theo Otto attack. Something is different enough about him that they halt. This Russian seems more… whole, not out of place in the world but somehow apart of it like themselves.

Truevil: My name is T.L. Truevil, and our salvation lies up north with your friends, with a man named Guy.

May B: But how will we get there in time? Not to mention get there without being slaughtered by the armies threatening to spill out of the University grounds.

Otto: Yeah. More importantly, how do you know Guy is so important?

Truevil: I know because a professor named Phand convinced me it was so. As for how we’ll get there… before Vice came to rule this world, there were other forces that guided our fates with subtle unseen hands. Every once in awhile, though, an overt hand was needed. For this reason they left us…

Truevil reaches into his trench coat and pulls out a white opaque sphere.

Truevil: …the Dues Ex Machina! Seven relics of power that aid those who would aid this world. Each only contains one power, though.

May B: …and that one?

Truevil: Movement.

The opaque sphere glows. Gently at first and then with a brightness so fierce it blocks all sight. When the light clears the heroes are gone.

Dr Evil: "I don't understand how this scoring system works..."

Dr Evil was pouring through the rule book to boxing while the duellists sat on their little stools, gearing themselves up with clubs to their own heads and much snarling.

Maybe Childe: "Oh for God's sake. You're bloody useless!"

Dr Evil: "I can kill you now if you'd like?"

Maybe Childe: "Why you-!"

Ben: "No no, we're willing to wait! Take your time!"

As the heroes continued trying to teach Dr Evil the finer points of boxing lore, the sound of steady footfalls became apparent. All eyes slowly rose and looked towards the open doorway where Dr Evil's assassin droids stood guard.

Step, step, step

Maybe Childe: "Step is not a very good sound effect."

Eerie step, eerie step, eerie step

Maybe Childe: "The Hell? That's not even a sound! That's just telling us the effect!"

...

Voodoo Snowflakes: "He's stopped?"

Maybe Childe: "No, the writer just didn't give us the sound effects..."

From the all too convenient shadows emerged a dark figure, with such a slow, cool effect that the bad-a$$ness of Dr R. Deep exuded from the passage. With one quick motion he had drawn both of his swords, slicing the heads off of the assassin droids. All at once.

Ben: "That was bad-a$$!"

Maybe Childe was caught primping her hair, which totally ruined her strong heroine reputation.

Maybe Childe: "Why you-!"

Ford: "What reputation?"

Ford was quickly corrected by a vengeful fist to the face...

Ford: "I stand corrected..."

... and a swift kick to the back of the legs, sending him sprawling to the floor.

Ford: "I... lie... corrected?"

Dr R. Deep approached Dr Evil with clear intent. The bad doctor fumbled with the wheels to his chair but it was too late. Morpheus-

-Uh, I mean Deep glowed down at Evil.

Dr R. Deep: "I hope this infirmity isn't some kind of plot?"

Dr Evil: "No no. It's genuine. I'm like... really old."

Cris B: "Despite how he looks."

Dr Evil: "Exactly. Nothing against doing one's best even when one gets old."

Dr R. Deep: "In that case, I'll allow you to live. Besides, I'm not here for you anyway."

Deep shot a sudden look at Ben, who cowered and squealed. With a poof he turned into a rat and attempted to flee with another series of squeals. Unfortunately for Ben, Deep was stupidly kick-a$$ and he plucked the rat from his scampering via the tail.

Dr R. Deep: "The new Company Kid. Welcome to the fold. We'll have you suited up soon as our sponsors have finished buy spots on your costume."

And so in an all too-contrived fashion, Hero Force One had saved the heroes and taken Ben. Dr Evil slunk into the shadows, which was impressive with a wheelchair. The heroes headed for the exit, including Antestarr and Otter, who agreed to beat each other with sticks when they got outside.

Only Otter showed any kind of remorse at loosing Ben.

Otter: "He's my friend, we should go and save him!"

Maybe Childe: "Nah."

Otter: "But why?"

Maybe Childe: "Too much of a n00b. He hasn't managed to develop any kind of solid relationship with the rest of us."

Cris B: "Wow, does that mean I've been accepted?"

Everyone laughed at Cris.

Cris cried.

Ford: "Maybe I should have asked Dr Evil for a spare wheelchair..."

Maybe Childe: "You big baby..."

Ford: Well, I'm glad that's over.

Cris: I was expecting some kind of doctor fight.

Antestarr: Speaking of fights, it's time for some unfinished business.

*Antestarr grabs a nearby stick and delivers a healthy smack to Otter's head, knocking him out.*

Antestarr: Nice. And now, to assert my status -

*Maybechild grabs a nearby stick and smacks Antestarr, knocking him out.*

Maybechild: - As the leader of the NeS heroes!

Ford: Is it just me or has there been a lot more unnecessecary violence than usual lately?

Cris B: Nonsense! As I used to say when I was in the kitchen, if you can't stand the heat get out of the kitchen because I'm cooking in the kitchen and it's hot. In the kitchen.

*Cris gives Antestarr's body a kick for good measure.*

Cris B: Who's the hero now, jerks?

MZZT: Let's just get on with our lives in a way that doesn't involve hurting.

Ford: Okay. So what do you guys want to do?

MZZT: We could stage a rescue of our longtime companion and good buddy Semievil.

Cris B: Or we could take down HERO FORCE ONE and show them who the real good guys are!

MaybeChild: Those are both good suggestions, but they'll have to wait because the first order of business is the trial of Frederick J. Otter and Antestarr on the charge of hero mutiny.

Cris B: Gentlemen, start your lawyers!

Not too far away, in another part of Disney World, TotallyEvil and Semievil stroll as they talk to each other.

Totallyevil: Listen to me, Sem, dear brother, there are a lot of things you need to know before running father's empire, such as--

Semievil: RIDES!

Totallyevil: --uh, well I suppose maintainance of this theme park is part of the job, but--

Semievil: SPACE MOUNTAIN! Let's go ride it!

Totallyevil: Now look here--

Semievil: WHEEE!!!

Semievil strides over to the end of the line stretching from Space Mountain.

Totallyevil: ...you do realize that you don't have to stand in the lines, right? What with this theme park being father's headquarters and all.

Semievil:

Totallyevil: *sigh* At least there's one good thing to come from father's evil-induced impotence -- I can always rest easy knowing we're not blood-related...

(NSN: Just a little something. I'm giving one more week before opening the gates on ending that story-arc.)

As if on cue the lawyers, that were once trapped in the lawyer pits, burst out of... somewhere, and began setting up a court room (including all of the fancy wooden desks, seats and judge's chair. Goodness knows where it was all stored.)

Judge: "This trial is now is session. Would the defendants now stand."

Two lawyers prop up the unconscious Antestarr and Otter. The rest of the NeS heroes are ushered to the sidelines to be called up as witnesses. Looking over towards the defendants table, they see that the defence lawyer is none other than Krig.

Krig: "Krig win case."

Judge: "Krig speak with more syllables."

The judge paused.

Judge: "Sorry, there should have been a comma after I said Krig."

Krig: "Humph."

Maybe Childe was, apparently, the prosecution lawyer.

Maybe Childe: "HOLD IT!"

Judge: "TAKE THAT!"

Ford: "Seriously, less of the Ace Attorney lines."

Krig: "OBJECTION!"

Krigs bashes Ford with the butt of his axe.

Judge: "Ford, this court finds you in contempt!"

Ford: "Murf!?"

Judge: "Do you have anything to say in your defence?"

Ford: "Nurg..."

Judge: "Put him up here with the other two guilty people. Uh... I mean defendants."

Cris B: "I have no idea what's going on... at all."

MZZT: "I doubt anyone does."
------

Meanwhile, Ben found himself guest of the Hero Force One team. He decided he couldn't quite call it kidnapping because they seemed under the impression that he was now one of them. He looked out of one of the nearby windows to see the earth floating somewhere below him.

Ben: "Whoa! Holy shi-...nto priests! You guys live in a space station!?"

Dr R. Deep: "Of course. Standard hero base. Why where do the NeS heroes operate from?"

Ben: "A haunted house..."

Dr R. Deep: "... I do not take kindly to being taken as an idiot."

Ben: "No seriously! It's a haunted house. I don't know the details!"

Dr R. Deep: "Right..."

Ben: "Why couldn't you guys just... live in a high-tech mansion or something?"

Dr R. Deep: "Well that was option two, but we decided that the space station offered more creature comforts..."

Ben: "Creature comforts?"

He was led into a large living area. It wasn't quite a room because that particular word suggests something a lot smaller. The great expanse was, in fact, a dining room, living room and kitchen all in one. Not to mention the bar. With a robot bar tender. And the kitchen had a robot chef. The dining room a robot waiter.

Ben: "Creature comforts..."

Dr R. Deep: "Exactly."

Judge, Seraphim and The Patriot were all chilling in the living area, watching Teen Titans on the television... which was an entire wall.

Ben: "Is there a stronger word than overwhelmed?"

Dr R. Deep: "Awed?"

Ben: "Awed..."

Dr R. Deep: "Actually given that this place takes up so much of the space station, our rooms are a little smaller..."

Ben: "How much smaller?"

Dr R. Deep: "Oh... about an inch or two, all the way round."

Ben: "Yeah... such an inconvenience."

Dr R. Deep: "Worse still is that some of us have to share rooms."

Ben: "Oh? Who am I sharing a room with?"

Dr R. Deep: "Our newest member..."

Ben: "Aren't I the newest?"

Dr R. Deep: "No. You're replacing the role of an older member, so you're classed as being that older member."

Ben: "Sweet! Does that give me like... privileges?"

Dr R. Deep: "No."

Ben: "So, who is the new person?"

Ben's eyes stroked the silhouettes of the two beauteous female team members.

Dr R. Deep: "Turn around."

???: "Hullo!!"

Ben looked down to see a small girl. For a moment he thought he recognised her.

Dr R. Deep: "Magick Snowflakes."

Magick Snowflakes: "Pleased to meet you!"

Ben: "Uh... are you related to Voodoo Snowflakes?"

Magick Snowflakes: "That's right! I'm her little sister from the future!"

Ben: "Ooooookay."

Dr R. Deep: "She also has some promising spell powers. Almost like her namesake."

Ben: "So... do you share with The Patriot?"

Dr R. Deep: "No! Patriot gets his own room... size=1]No one can put up with him for more than five minutes in such a close space.[/size]"

Ben: "You share with one of the girls?"

Dr R. Deep: "No, they share a room together..."

Ben's mind ran through a series of censored thoughts.

Deep smacked him upside the head.

Ben: "Ouch! I don't want to be the Otter of this get-up!"

Dr R. Deep: "Someone has to be the pervert. May as well be you."

Ben: "So you have your own room too?"

???: "He shares with me."

Ben turned again to see a young man with a very dodgy hero mullet. He wore a blue shirt and a cocky grin. Only the cocky grin didn't fit with the original Gebohq.

???: "I'm Quobeg. Or... one of the Quobeg's anyway. A clone of Gebohq."

Ben: "Isn't Gebohq a little under-powered for this team?"

Quobeg: "Yeah. I'm not though..."

Quobeg pulled out a biro from his pocket, in such a fashion that he seemed to reflect his old Simon ancestor from from the 1888 story arc. Deftly he scribbled in the air, a light tracing behind each pen stroke. When the word was finished a cake appeared in Ben's hands.

Ben: "You can... make cakes appear..."

Quobeg: "Amongst other things! I figured blowing your head off was a bit much for a demonstration, you know?"

Dr R. Deep: "Not to mention we'd make you clean it up."

Ben: "Got it. Right."

Dr R. Deep: "Anyway, you should be grateful that we're not making you stay in a room with The Patriot. You are his sidekick after all. But he killed three of the Company Kid's a while back during the night. Apparently they complained too much..."

Ben: "Seriously?"
-----
NSN: Sorry it's a bit hap-hazard.

Benjamin the Writer: Wow. At the rate some of these new plotlines are moving we may end up having the Incalculable Ego defeated before Geb gets revived. Though with the cloning that may not be a problem. Exactly how many Geb clones do we have?

--------

Out in the asphalt sea leading into Walt Disney World, two dark armies meet for the first and last time. On one side, the traditional armies of hell augmented by New York Mobsters and Canadian Mounties. On the other side, a traditional force of evil robots and helmeted shock troopers augmented by a full cast of Disney Villians.

As the two sides watch each other, there is a pitched silence broken only by the sound of trams hauling tourist through the soon to be war zone to the Disney Land gates. In an unexpected show of honor, this silence is broken only when the generals of the opposing sides meet in the center of the battle to discuss the terms of engagement.

Jim’s Quobeg: I see that the armies of Disney are formidable. Never the less, Canada will be reclaiming Totally Evil.

Hooded General: And at what cost? How many lives is Jim7 going to throw away just to claim one soul.

Jim’s Quobeg: We’re the armies of Canada. Where do you think we end up when we die? In fact, where do you think you end up when you die? Sure you should be fighting us rather than repenting thin sins?

Hooded General: Oh Quobeg. You have so much potential. And yet, so much of it is wasted due to the lingering traces of your primary. Here you are leading the forces of Hell into the happiest place on earth, and still you try to redeem your enemies soul.

Jim’s Quobeg: Hump. Like you know anything about me and Geb at all.

Hooded General: Oh, I know much more then you think.

Removing his hood, the hooded general reveals himself to be... Geb?

No, not Geb. While this figure has most of the physical qualities of Gebohq, his face is emotionless and his eyes are of the pitches black.

Doctor Gebiyl: Back during the Doctor’s orginal conflict with Gebohq, which led to the conquest of Disney World, he collected a sample of all the then present heroes’ DNA. When he realized Geb’s potential, he made me. I am Gebiyl, the evil clone of Gebohq.

Jim’s Quobeg: [censored], just how many of us are there?

--------

Somewhere in a secret KGB based buried deep within the frigid wastes of Siberia, a lone figure closes an airlock hatch behind her before removing her long furred coat, revealing herself to be a pale and just barely alive Nikki.

Nikki: Comrades. We have failed both missions. The Last True Evil will not rejoin us and is still alive.

Masked KGB Commander: I see. Very well, we shall proceed with project TNTE without his brain then. Agent Nikki, report to medical before resuming cover. We will contact you when we are ready to move.

Agent Nikki manages to stand up straight enough to salute before leaving the room to wherever medical is located. The camera doesn’t follow her, though, but instead goes through the twisting passages of the base until it comes to a door that was never meant to be opened. Following story conventions, though, it opens for the camera.

Behind the door is a dark room filled with dust and age. The one source of light in the room is a tube, and suspended in the liquid of that tube is a lone figure. As many of you might of guessed, it is another clone of Geb, but not just any clone. For the KGB, during the time of The Original Last True Evil, had access to Gebohq the Writer. Combined with hero Gebohq and the poster Gebohq’s DNA, a trinity of power was brought together in one physical form, the likes of which never meant to be written into the story.

Benjamin the Writer: And that, folks, is why after Poster Gebohg got lose the rest of us writers banished our poster incaration to the depths of Montana. And no, I'm not confusing the most barren state of the union with Canada. But we move on. Narrator? Please continue.

This new clone of Gebohq has a name, but not one inspired from the source of it's DNA. Instead, it is inspired by the goals the KGB concerning this clone. Labeled in very clear letters on the tube is this inspired name: The Next True Evil.

--------

Hi up above the world of the NeS, if only in a metaphysical sense, the story unfolding down below is not unnoticed by the denizens of the 1337.

Mayaal: Bhac, is it just me, or are there an unprecedented amount of Geb themed kirbies?

In the background of this conversation, there are indeed an unusual high amount of Gebohg, Quobeg, and Gebiyl kirbies. They are all, at the moment, trying to protect the Beta Squardon kirbies from the Lost Beta kirbies.

Bhac: Well it’s probably because his DNA is spreading through the plotfactual like the eighth plague. Now be quite, I’m trying to find Tsolo. Honestly, how can the Avatar of Loss be forgotten.

--------

While one might think the absurdity has reached epic proportions already, one would be wrong. No, as Benjamin the Writer has one final twist of the running gag before returning to the Hero Force One satellite, we find ourselves in a small upscale French kitchen in Paris.

Here, we find the NeSferatu Nyneve pureeing a selection of vegetables. When she’s done, she doesn’t put them into a glass. Instead, she puts them into an iv. Carrying the iv, she leaves the kitchen and walks down some steps into her cellar where we find a final (we wish) clone of Gebohg strapped to the wall across from a movie projector.

On the arm not attached to the iv is a small drip hose leading down to a goblet. Closing the drip hose, Nyneve tastes the goblet’s blood... and promptly spits it out. Emptying the goblet down a drain with disgust, she replaces it and attaches the fresh iv before heading back upstairs. The Gebohg clone is left alone, mindless watching the projector that is showing the collective work of Shakespeare on a continuous loop.

Guess when you live as long as Nyneve, you learn to have a Plan C in the oven.

--------

Back in the Hero Force One Space station, Ben shakes his head, trying to get clarity of the situation.

Ben: Wait a second. Something doesn’t make sense. I’ve never met Gebohg. Barely even heard of him from the NeS heroes. Why would I have an opinion of him?

Force’s Quobeg: That would be whatever writer that was writing last needing to set me up with a comment and you being the most convenient outlet for the lines. The writers tend to ignore story history when they get in the way of the joke. Like Deep here not believing about the Haunted House of Heroes despite being there in his introductory post.

Doctor R. Deep looks disapprovingly at Quobeg, though if it is because of his breaking the fourth wall or hinted disrespect can not be gleamed from underneath the unmoving layer of badass that covers Deep.

Ben is having a much different reaction to Quobeg’s words.

Ben: Oh no. Not you guys too. I thought you blokes were a little unreasonable, but at least you were sane. Am I ever going to not surrounded by people who think life’s a story?

Force’s Quobeg: Not likely. Infact in six or so more pages, even you’ll start to believe it. It’s already starting to happen. Story conventions are working their way into your dialog, you’re starting to notice the strings in the form of inconsistencies within your actions. Pretty soon, you’ll even start to be able to hear the narrator.

Really? Hey, Ben. Ben? Up here. Not down at the floor, up. Why are you clasping your hands to your ears?

Ben: No. That can’t be true. Writers don’t control our lives. Hardships are repercussions for our past actions, not things that happen because some writer thinks it would be make an interesting story. You just have to work hare enough and long enough to get out of the red and back in the black. That’s what I believe, that’s what I always be... liev...

Ben pauses in his rant when he noticed that Quobeg has his face just a few inches away from his face, starring with intent interest.

Force’s Quobeg: Curious. I’ve never seen the denial process stretch out this long in a main character before. Of course I’ve never seen it before. I almost hate to let it drag out as long as it’s going to with you, but any effort to explain the way things work is futile since it will only result in...

And as if on cue, the stations alarms start blaring.

Force’s Quobeg: ...the story convention of distraction cutting in.

What impending disaster is Hero Force One being alerted to? Will Ben ever accept that he is in a story? And what is the Patriot’s opinion of Beast Boy? Find out this or possibly completely unrelated events on the next installment of the Neverending Story Squared.

Here is a long post about characters you don't care about.

Ares appeared in a shifty room made of an incredible number of doors.

Ares : Damn American broke my glasses. ...This isn't the dealership.

Sup : No, this is the plane of forgotten stories.

Ares : The what?

Sup : It's a place where all the forgotten stories of the Interactive Story Board come together. Behind each of this multitude of doors lies an entire world that was never adequately explored.

Ares : Look, I don't know who you are, or how you were able to redirect my teleportation, but..

That was me.

Ares : Ah. And you're working with this emo kid?

And the hulking brute, yes.

Ares : That's great. Just incredibly great. Except, I don't care. I was on my way to get a new car when you interrupted me. Maybe you didn't notice my last one was smashed? You should have. You bloody narrated it.

Sup : We have more pressing concerns than your car. I asked our friend to bring you here for your own protection.

Ares : Protection? I'm the god of war, boy. I don't need some snivelling little emo kid's protection, not even if he has a hulking brute to back him up.

ID : SMASH GOD OF WAR?

Sup : No, that won't be necessary. I'm sure he will come to understand. Aries;

Ares : That's ARES. Not ARIES. Zeus damn it, what is wrong with you people?

ID : GOD OF GOATS!

Sup : Sorry, Ares, I am surprised you do not recognize us. Perhaps you have forgotten. I am one third of your oldest rival. Do you remember who stood against in the formation of the NeS? Who smote you? Who sent you to your room without supper?

Ares : You do look familiar... you're that idiot JM, aren't you?

Sup : I, and my counter part here, are a part of him, yes. But it is the other part that we have brought you here to protect you from. I'll let someone with far more experience cover this for you.

Is that me? How nice. Just when I was beginning to think you don't like me. While ID continues a tirade of goat puns, our intrepid narrator recounts the tale of the formation of the NeS...

Ares : Skip it. I know that part. Get to the good stuff.

Right. Okay. Well. JM had just shown up disguised as Zeus and handed you your ***.

Ares, with arms crossed : That's not quite how I remember it.

Then he zoomed off never to be seen again. What happened next is, as you called it, the good stuff. The Never Ending Story exploded in popularity. JM, locked in at the stories formation, found he could not escape. But, worse : He found he was also forgotten. He hammered at his cage like a crazed baboon, but no writer would notice him. You, however... oh, he could never forgive you for your popularity. JM always knew that he was awesome, and that it was actually his own apathy that kept him from holding a place in this story. His ego grew formidable in the barren wasteland of forgotten characters.

He was king of them there, how such things are measured, for he was the most forgotten of all. He formed a plan, and when he was ready, he sundered himself into three pieces. Into one he poured all his calculating and scheming, and thus was formed Super Ego. In another, his animalistic hatred, the simplest parts of his being. The hulking brute. And the third, all his power; he created a being of pure Ego. A being so magnificent and awesome that those of weak wills fall down before him in ecstasy.

But that was only part of JM's plan. Locked away beyond the story, JM saw it unfold from a perspective far beyond that of any character, far beyond that of the writers. He discovered the greatest of story conventions, a convention to rule all others. He discovered the Forum Politics Principle. It is simple in it's magnificence. It is thus : When all other conventions and principles are exhausted, it is the writer who is most liked who guides the story.

Ares : That's not a plan. That's just melodramatic drivel.

Sup : Yes well, the plan didn't quite work out. He didn't count of two thirds of his personality thinking the plan was complete lunacy and nothing more than the blathering of an egotistical maniac. But I assure you Ego is still a very real threat. He's constantly gaining power, and he still carries an irrational hatred for you, specifically.

He already destroyed your son.

Ares : Like I care about him. This is stupid. Nobody is going to like JM no matter how many pieces he splits himself into.

Ego is exploiting two other conventions at the moment, preparing himself to exploit that one perhaps. He is absorbing the posts of other characters, to boost his post count and thus his power. Meanwhile, JM the writer helps him by exploiting the 'everyone likes someone who actually posts' principle.

Oh, ****, something is happening. At that moment the narrator was interrupted as one of the multitude of doors bursts open! In it, surrounded by a wreath of flame, stands a gigantic baboon! In a space suit! With a gigantic gun! (See the awesome picture here!)

Ares : Whatever, I'm out of here.

With that, Ares vanishes. Again.

Sup : Hey! Stop him!

Little distracted. The baboon lurches into the room and lowers his gun. On the side is emblazoned the words 'Cleave-o-matic'.

Sup : Which story is that?

"There is a Story That Must be Told."

Sup : Figures that Ego would go there first. At least it was a short one. ID!

ID : SMASH BABOON!

ID barrels headfirst into the gigantic baboon, and both go tumbling back through the door. Sup dives after them.

They find themselves on what appears to be the bridge of a star destroyer. It is a smoking ruin. Dead bodies are strewn about like rice at a wedding. Near the view screen, a figure clad in black lies. While ID tangles with the gigantic Baboon, Sup walks up to the dieing man and bends down beside him. His mask resembles Darth Vader, but with half of it blown away to reveal Darth Lozier, the evil lord of the Massassians in this particular story.

Darth Lozier : It was going so well...

Sup : What happened here? What happened to your story?

Darth Lozier : Look what he did to Slug.

Lozier points to a nearby smear on the metal floor.

Darth Lozier : We had just teamed up with Juzsoft to end Cool Matty's reign of terror and free all Massassians from the dreaded Jed Star, when... he appeared...

Sup : Who?

Darth Lozier : It was... JEDMaster. He must have discovered what Juzsoft did with his DNA. What we created... It has the strength of ten men. And the intelligence of two and a third.

Sup : No, no, this is something far worse. A different JM, from a different universe, did this. Rest easy, evil lord.

Darth Lozier is dead. Sup stands up and looks at ID and the gigantic baboon, who have made friends and are playing Parcheesi.

Sup : We must go. There's no telling how long this ship will last.

Until about a second after you leave, I expect.

Gigantic Baboon : Are you allies against the Egoful? He killed my brothers, I will slay you if I must.

Sup : We are allies. Who are you?

Gigantic Baboon : I am JMX01.

Sup : Uh... does that stand for something?

JMX01 : Genetic Modification eXperiment zero-one.

Sup : Doesn't 'genetic' start with a G?

JMX01 : SILENCE! I will go with you to your universe to hunt the Egoful. Pray I do not decide you are in my way.

JMX01 stomps through the door way to the plane of forgotten stories.

*At the Disneytrial Krig is in the process of cross-examining a series of surprise witnesses. Being Disneyworld, they are all people dressed up as various Disney characters.*

Krig: Krig call next witness!

*Donald Duck waddles to the witness box.*

Maybechild: This is going great. Krig'll put those three away for life!

MZZT: Actually, that's not such a good idea...

*Maybe shoots him an angry glare.*

Maybechild: So, you're all against me eh? Fine.

MZZT: No no, it's not that I don't believe in your...uh...leadership skills...but I've noticed that we're running out of good guys. With Geb out of commission, Sem on evil vacation, Ford unconscious and Otter and Ante unconscious and about to serve prison terms we're running a little low on the hero depth chart.

Maybechild: Hmm...

MZZT: I mean, not counting the two of us that leaves Cris. And I have absolutely no idea where he even came from.

*Cris leans in and joins the conversation.*

Cris: And let's not forget our piratey friends! I'm sure they'll be happy to pirate up all kinds of hilarious adventures as members of NeS Crew: The Next Generation!

Maybechild: Now that you mention it, neither do I.

Cris: Engage!

MaybeChild: You know MZZT, I think you're right. Being a leader isn't about expecting people to blindly do what you tell them, it's about being sensitive to the various personalities that make up our unique team. Because in the end, mutual understanding and respect is what keeps the group together.

*However, Maybe's epiphany has taken a bit too long. Krig wraps up his closing statements and Minnie Mouse rises to present the jury's verdict.*

Minnie: We find the defendants guilty!

Judge: Very well! Antestarr, Frederick J. Otter and Ford, I hereby sentence you to death. May God have mercy upon your souls.

Maybechild: Excuse me, your honour sir? Um, I actually changed my mind about the whole trail thing. So don't worry about it. We'll just take our friends and be going.

Judge: I'm afraid it's too late for second thoughts. Lady justice has spoken and she demands punishment most swift and deadly!

MaybeChild: But the jury didn't even deliberate! This is a mickey mouse court!

Judge: Yes, it is. I am the right honourable judge Mickey Mouse. Bailiff, take them away!

*The court officers drag the still-comatose forms of the three accused heroes out of the courtroom.*

MZZT: If only they had have been awake to testify on their own behalf...

Maybechild: I guess it's time for plan B.

MZZT: What's that?

*Maybe cracks her knuckles and stands.*

Maybechild: An old-fashioned NeS heroes prison break.

Cris: Like on TV!

Maybechild: Yeah, the new guys definitely aren't cutting it.

Cris: Can I bring my pirates?

Elsewhere, as Maybe and MZZT “plan” the rescue of the NeS heroes they just imprisoned…

Chris: Hey, what about me?

As I said, as Maybe and MZZT “plan” the rescue of the NeS heroes they just imprisoned with the “aid“ of the annoyance that refuses to let himself be written out of the story…

Chris: Man, I get less respect than the Otter.

…other forces move through the plotfractural. Forces that if left unchecked might destroy reality as we know it. Forces like…

Incalculable Ego: Me.

Um, yes. You. You won’t be kicking me out of the narration space, will you?

JM the Writer: Not as long as you stay in line.

Right then. And so, moving through the plot fractural itself, the Incalculable Ego searching for it’s next victim. Someone powerful, but with a relatively low post count so as to be easy to digest. What he finds is something that meets those requirements. But has he finally bitten off more then he can handle?

JM the Writer: That’s it. Time for the boot.

Incalculable Ego: Leave him. There is no such thing as characters who I can not handle.

JM then Writer: Then why are you focusing on forgotten characters with low post counts?

Incalculable Ego: …

Right. So as writer and ego have their preemptive test of will, the Incalculable Ego closes in on his new target. Standing alone on a high rise warehouse, the emetic They stands with patience for his hunter.

They: We knew you would come.

Incalculable Ego: Then you know what I have come for.

Then: Our posts. We are sorry if we much disappoint.

Incalculable Ego: You’re compliance is not necessary.

Raising an outstretched hand, the Incalculable Ego proceeds to devour They. Or at least he tries…

JM the Writer: Oh now it’s on. Time for a time out, mister Narrator.

Benjamin the Writer: Or how about we just let the man do his job?

JM the Writer: What… what are you doing here?

Benjamin the Writer: My job. Or haven’t you noticed that you’re not the one scripting this post. Mister Narrator? Please continue.

Thank you. Where was I? Oh yes, the sucking. And so, the Incalculable Ego tried to absorb the entity know as They. They, though, was remarkably unmoved by the attempt. The wind moves in an irrespirable vortex that They simply ignores even as various articles of trash, birds, and at least one alley cat are sucked into the Incalculable Ego. It’s after the cat that the Incalculable Ego collapses down in exhaustion.

Incalculable Ego: What… are… you?

Then: We are like Darkside. When introduced, we described ourselves as the embodiement of all evil within reality, as Darkside is the evil of fantasy. But Darkside aren’t really the evil of fantasy, they are the evil of the character that seeks to literally consume them. By extension, we must actually be…

Incalculable Ego:…the evil of the Writers.

They: We are pleased to see your intelligence isn’t just power gamer boosting. Yes, we are the evil of the writers. But rather then seeking to consume the writers, we seek to destroy their creations. After all, the most evil part of any writer is the part of his soul the squeals with glee when their characters suffer.

Incalculable Ego: But… if you are not of this world, then you can no more consume me than I can consume you.

They: Correct, we can’t.

???: But we can.

Stepping out of the plotfractural in much the same way that the Incalculable Ego arrived at the scene, an easily recognized form steps onto the scene. This figure has no true form, it is legion condensed into one dark scream collective that merely chooses to be humanoid. It is Darkside.

Incalculable Ego: Impossible. You are trapped within the Darkfoil.

Darkside: No. Darkside 3000 is trapped inside the Darkfoil. They are us from the future, a future where we have achieved our destiny of consuming all. While they overshadowed us during the time within the squared incarnation of NeS, we have not passed on. We have merely… been forgotten till now.

They: Mister Stafford doesn’t approve of your actions. Aside from reducing his pool of potential recruits, you are an imbalance to the plot. The heroes are in no condition to oppose a villian such as you. Even in their prime they couldn’t face Darkside or Tsolo. If allowed to fester, you could potentially become more then either of them.

Darkside: We are standing right here.

They: Darkside and Tsolo where only defeated due to the writers losing interest in their plots, either providing dues ex machina for their defeat or simply forgetting them. You though… you have a writer. You will not be forgotten easily, and any dues ex machina thrown against you will be countered by your writer. Therefore, Stafford has decided that you must be… humbled.

Darkside: Something we will enjoy immensely.

And so, the Darkside attempted to consume the Incalculable Ego. The Incalculable Ego countered in the only manner he could, counter consumption.

And so a great vacuum was created between Darkside and the Incalculable Ego. And while they failed to consume each other, reality itself was suffering, creating a fracture that threatened to open up a rift directly to the plotfractural.

Is this the end of Incalculable Ego? Of Darkside? Of the entire NeS? Find out next time on another installment of… wait, you're not finishing it?

JM the Writer: Yes, and the writer swoops in for the rescue!

Benjamin the Writer: It’s called fair play. Try not to abuse it.

Oh boy. In any case, tune in later for another addition to the Neverending Story Squared!

The rift in the story grows larger, stretching through space and time, as Darkside and the Incalculable Ego consume each other in what can only be described as a metaphysical sex act. With one final spasm, both entities vanish into nothingness, each consumed entire by the other.

They : That went better than I expected.

JM the Writer : Damnit. I told him so. You saw me.

* * *

JM the writer had indeed told him so. MEANWHILE, Hero force one responds to a mysterious call to action! They arrive in some sort of city, where several very large buildings have just had their middles cleaved out.

The Patriot and his new Company Kid are the first to spot the culprits : A gigantic hulking brute, a gigantic hulking babboon, and their sidekick, some sort of emo kid.

JMX01 : It seems that collosal explosions are one of the side effects of cleaving my way into a universe.

Sup : Don't blame yourself. Blame whomever erected such inconveniently large buildings.

Ben : Villains! How many innocent people have you killed?

Sup : Uh. None? It's a story. Listen. You guys are Hero Force One, right? That's just awesome, I was going to come looking for you anyway.

The Patriot : If you were looking for trouble, you found it. Nobody comes and cleaves chunks out of our buildings! And then blows them up! And gets away with it!

JMX01 levels his Cleave-O-Matic at The Patriot.

JMX01 : I do not have time for your foolishness!

Sup : Guys! We're all good guys here! Patriot, there's a being on the lose that's worse than any villain you've ever faced. You must work with us to stop it!

The Patriot : Work together! How COMMUNIST of you!

JMX01 : I AM NO COMMUNIST!

JMX01 fires his cleave-o-matic in full auto mode. Due to the nature of the role of The Company Kid, Ben is spontaneously sucked into the path of the cleaves. All that is left is his clothes, fluttering to the ground in little pieces.

Ben the Writer : HEY!

That's what it says in the script. Little pieces.

JM the Writer : Fair play.

Ben the Writer : That's not fair play! You killed him!

JM the Writer : No, JMX01 did.

Ben : It's okay! I turned into a rat and he missed!

That's right! As Ben scurried away in rat form, The Patriot took the full force of the attack, and was cleaved into fifty pieces of various shapes and sizes. Bits of The Patriot spilled everywhere, then sprang up again to resume the fight. The Patriot became the fifty-dwarf fighting force -- The Fifty States.

ID : Smash American dwarves?

Sup : Yeah. Sure. But get it over with, this is so stupid I'm getting a headache.

ID : SMASH AMERICAN DWARVES!

What happened to Darkside and The Incalculable Ego? Will The Fifty States prove as bigoted as The Patriot? Will ID succeed in smashing Fifty American Dwarves? Will Ben dare show himself in human form now that he is naked? Find out... right now!

* * *

They turned to leave, but as he walked across the roof, a menacing laugh echoed behind him. He turned back to the rift spreading across the sky and saw a single figure floating in the center of it.

They : Darkside?

Darkside : If only.

Incalculable Ego : You could say

Darkside : That we made a sort of

DarkEgo : Agreement.

The rest of that stuff I said earlier you will have to find out about later. Or more likely - Never!

One of the fifty mini-Patriots went flying through the air as ID swung his hulking arms. There was a definite American squeak as he passed by.

ID: "KILL FUNNY LITTLE AMERICANS!"

Sup: "Well, you don't have to be so extreme. Just knock them about a bit."

JMX01: "I'll be of assistance."

JMX01 smacked another Patriot as it leapt towards the beastly figure of ID. Together the two huge brutes were easily swatting the tiny, under-powered Patriots.

Sup: "Reminds me of that Cave Troll and the Hobbits..."

JMX01: "Didn't they kill that troll?"

Sup: "Yeah... but there's two of you! And they had Strider..."

???: "Perhaps I could fulfil that role?"

Sup turned to see Morpheus-

Correction. Sup turned to see Dr R. Deep poised with his most excellent swords and stylish coat billowing in the wind. For a moment Sup wondered if Deep's awesomeness could even rival Ego's. But Sup was still a part of JM and egotistical enough to believe nothing could be as awesome as another part of himself.

Sup: "Okay, okay. Wait, wait. We tried to reason with the Patriot but he attacked us anyway. We didn't kill him!"

Dr R. Deep: "Just rendered him useless..."

There was a sharp angry squeak of protest from several Patriots, however at the sound of their own high-pitched voices they fell into a dismal silence.

Sup: "Well... there's still plenty they could do! They could be like... garden gnomes!"

Dr R. Deep: "We live on a space station."

Sup: "Ah... they can cook? With team effort, of course. Clean?"

Sup struggled for ideas under the unimpressed glare of Deep, which managed to exude through his shades. He snapped his fingers as his face lit up.

Sup: "They could be Hero Force One mascots!"

For a moment Sup thought he had swayed Deep due to a small twitch in his facial features, but the twitch did not reassert itself. In the meantime ID and JMX01 had wandered off.

Sup: "Whoa! What? Crapcakes! Uh... gotta go. Sure you can fix your little mate somehow.... bye!"

Sup fled. Deep looked down at the gathering mass of mini-Patriots, who all looked back up at him with hopeful eyes. One of them had captured the retreating Ben and clutched the rat like a soft toy.

Ben: "How... humiliating..."

Dr R. Deep: "I shall have to see about returning you... all to your former state. I don't want to loose track of those three, however. So, your first assignment, Company Kid, is to follow them and see where they lead you."

Ben's initial reaction was of desperation and refusal. However two factors changed this original disposition. Firstly, Deep would likely chop him into bits for the refusal. The second was that tracking seemed like a much safer option that hanging around Hero Force One.

With a faint squeak of acceptance, Ben scurried after the trio ID, Sup and JMX01, leaving Deep to take care of fifty tiny Americans.

--------

Ben the Writer: "I thought you were going to leave my character with Hero Force One for a minute there."

Britt the Writer: "Nope. Thought it was a good way of bringing your character back into the main cast fold, as it were. So anyway, what was all that before about me trading consistency for the sake of a gag, eh?"

Ben the Writer: "Uh... it was just that... you know... Deep knew about the, uh, Haunted House... thing."

Britt the Writer: *glare* "Mistake."

Ben the Writer: "Okay! Right you are. Easy enough to make!"

Britt the Writer: *still glares*

-------

Back in the Stronghold of Stupidity...

Soriel: "No! Take that! Take that! Yeah! Yeah! And that! Hyah!"

The sounds of combat and bloodshed echo throughout the cold, stone rooms. A most terrible and epic battle. Speed, agility and cunning were the necessary tools of the combatants.

Adrian: "Grah! Oh..."

Super Smash Bros: "PLAYER ONE WINS!"

Adrian: "... buggery."

Soriel: "Hell yeah! Go me! Go me!"

Adrian, who came fourth, gave up his pad to Darth Puis.

Rachel: "I can't believe we're all sat here playing this..."

Vice, who had selected to play as Jigglypuff, glanced up at Rachel.

D. Vice: "Well, we seem to have been forgotten, you know? Left to our own devices!"

Darth Puis: "Or... vices, eh master?"

D. Vice: "...quite. Besides, my dear, you're just grumpy because you were beat."

Rachel pulled a protesting tongue at the back of Vice's head and folded her arms in frustration.

Rachel: "We can't be forgotten. We're currently the central cast!"

Lucy: "Oh really?"

Rachel: "Yes! This entire plot line was constructed, you know? Vice, here, is the end of that plot line. We just have to beat him."

Soriel: "I'm about to."

Rachel: "That's not what I meant..."

Relapse: "Tiger, don't eat the pad and you might win once in a while!"

Tiger: "Sorry..."

Will this plot line ever end? Will Soriel ever be beaten as Smash Bros? Will this entire cast be FORGOTTEN!? Find out... maybe... if ever Adrian the Writer posts again!

Benjamin the Writer: Gee, people are getting a little testy around here. Oh well, moving forward… head count at Disney World is… three characters short. Oh dear how did that happen. Ok, mister Narrator? Your script.

----------

In the middle of the Magic Kingdom, Semi and Totally Evil exit the Space Mountain. Semi is excited… Totally less so.

Semi: This… is… so… awesome! We own the entire park! We can do anything! …I wonder if it’s possible to replace the spinning tea cups with coke bottles.

Totally: Yes, it is very “awesome” that we own the park. I will admit I’m rather found of the Tower of Terror at MGM myself, but the family bussiness is far more then the park. I’m fully capable of running the evil minions myself, but there’s also the BUMP factories and the duct tape distribution channels. Not to mention…

Before Totally can continue, another interruption… interrupts. In this case, though, it is a very unexpected interruption.

Sran: Fire team one, advance!

With little more warning, a pack of tourists charge the Evil siblings. Unfortunately for them, even the out of practice Semievil is more then a match for meager tourists. Once the blood bath is over (mostly on Totally‘s side, since Semi actually have motive to apply nonlethal methods), another order is delivered.

Sran: Ok. Fire team two, advance!

Nothing happens.

Sran: …ok, fine. I’ll lead the charge. All fire teams, on me!

And so, charging onto the scene is Sran Capdill… or Voodoosnowflakes. Technically it is the latter, but it’s the former that is in control at the moment. He… um, she… ah, they are alone though. While Sran’s unsual form of command was enough to get one group of tourists to toss themselves into danger, the rest have wisely abandoned their fearless leader.

Totally: …oh this is going to be rich.

----------

Deep within the depths of Disney World, a dark room with several monitors is occupied by two figures. One is of course Doctor Evil. The other is shrouded in darkness and story conventions. Currently, they are observing the Evil siblings and Voodoo.

Doctor: *sniff* It’s so good see my children getting along together again. I really much arrange for them to meet Scott.

???: Didn’t you fire him sir?

Doctor: Only from the Pirates of the Caribbean ride. The boy has so much more potential then running this theme park.

The scene on the monitor shifts to Maybe, MZZTs, and Chris planning their rescue of their friends. On an adjacent screen we see the Otter, Antestarr, and Ford being prepped for execution by way of roller coaster.

Doctor: These NeS heroes are so interesting, though. Leave them alone for a minute and they start to kill themselves only to save themselves. Or at least try. Makes one think that this story is almost reaching the point of being self perpetuating.

???: Yes, but this does raise the question…

The figure finally steps out of the darkness to reveal… Red.

Red: …what am I doing here?

Doctor: Well Ricky… or is it Red at the moment?

Red: Red will do. I’ve used Ricky too often while traveling with… them.

Doctor: Well then, Red, you’re here because I’m a good judge of character. I’ve been observing these heroes for awhile, and I know your history with them. You’re not their ally, you’re only following them to get a chance to kill Gebohq. Pointless revenge is so… pointless though. I was wondering if I could entice you with some more financed employment?

Red: It depends on the financing.

----------

Outside on the asphalt battlefield, the armies of Disney and Hell continue to wage war. Mounties versus Mouseketeers. Mafia versus Evil Robots. Demon versus Movie Villains. And in the center of it all, the “original” Qhobeg and the Doctor’s Gebiyl do battle at Geb speeds.

It is all quickly put to an end as a single ray of sunlight pierces the dark clouds above. By story convention, the armies stop their bloodshed. Standing in the middle of sunbeam is the most unexpected of figures… Nick, sun of the god of war.

Nick: Creatures of darkness. I call on you to stop this sense battle or feel my wrath.

There is a dramatic pause before the all the battle field but Qhobeg bread out in laughter. The next to speak up is Gebiyl.

Gebiyl: Who are you to order a cessation of conflict? Aside from being only half a god, your father is the god of war. He lives for conflicts like this.

Nick: …I know. But I have found my own power. By the story convention of the rebellious child, I have claimed domain over the forces of peace. Now cease this battle or I will be forced to offer you an olive branch.

Gebiyl sneers and moves at Geb speeds to deliver an Mach 10 punch to the demigod. His assault is halted not by Qhobeg, but instead by an face full of olive bark.

Nick: Olive brank, olive trunk. Always getting those two confused.

Nick shoulders the olive trunk and raises his free hand. In it he fans out selection of peace symbol shuriken.

Nick: So, anyone else want to pick a fight with the warrior of peace?

What will happen to the invasion of Disney World in the face of Nick's wrath? Will Voodoo ever be rid of Sran, and will she even survive his current antics long enough to even care? Will Red/Ricky betray her/his kind of sort of friends? Find out this and more in another installment of the Neverending Story Squared!

(NSN: Alright, let's finally try and wrap the Vice stuff up, though I have one more toss-up with the conflict before leaving it up in the air to see where it all falls.)

Darth Vice falls over in shock as Rachel finally beats him in a game of Smash Bros. The victory music chimes for our heroes.

D. Vice: But how...?

Rachel: The joke's on you, Vice. It's a good the Guardians found that copy of the game that lets us win. And that runs on a system that doesn't need power to boot. I could only imagine why you'd have that lying around. What is it with bad guys and having stuff that can defeat them around their evil lairs?

D. Vice: Well played. I expected a master of foolishness such as you, Rachel, to defeat me in my first form.

Soriel: You have more than one?

Tiger rolls his eyes.

Tiger: A final boss with more than one form, there's a surprise.

Darth Vice ticks his neck to the side, and suddenly his image flickers. The chamber itself begins to flicker as well, flashing an array of previously-seen settings in Story Arcade before "settling" on a broken combination of them all with a near-epileptic technicolor sky. Vice himself is now much larger and more monstrous to look at, his own image similarly disjointed. He raises his arms and whispers something unintelligible, which seems to bring Darth Puis, Guy Book Smith and Bokken Monkey into a protective arc in front of him.

Rachel: Oh that's very impressive. You'll just be a bigger, easier target to hit, you know, even if you have more health now.

Relapse: No, he has less.

Rachel: What?

Relapse shows Rachel a high-tech scanning device he was holding. On it, it clearly displays a readout of Vice's health during his first form and his current form.

Relapse: He's putting himself at a disadvantage, even playing to the final boss conventions.

Adrian: But why?

Puis: None of you get it, do you? My master has given you all the advantage at every opportunity, and this is but the next level of it. The heroes win when the odds are stacked against them, but my master lives up to his name. Vice-versa the situation, alter the vector of what drives us, and the roles are reversed. The more you attack, the more powerful he becomes.

Soriel: Huh? How does that even work...?

Pius: I wouldn't expect you to understand, swordsmaster, just as I wouldn't expect you to realize that I am someone you've already met.

Soriel: What?

Suddenly, an image of the Illusionist from the very beginning of this story-arc appears next to Soriel. Without hesitation, Soriel swings at what appears to be the Illusionist.

Fred: No!

Soriel: Stupid sword, why'd you make me miss?

Soriel looks again, to see that the image of the Illusionist has been replaced with a very defensive Rachel. Where Darth Puis stands, the Illusionist now appears.

Puis/Illusionist: You were a worthy duelist, Soriel, but I don't play fair.

Relapse: With control over bad luck, illusions, and a character to rival our status as protagonists, Vice has a lot of cards to work with.

Rachel looks towards Relapse knowingly.

Rachel: You're right. He's really got the upper hand on us. We have no chance to survive. We best make our time.

Puis/Illusionist: What? No, your tricks won't work! Even now, he's drawing bad luck from your friend, Bokken, stacking the odds against himself.

Al: But Vice still has Guy in his possession. With him alone, we're no match.

Just then, the restraints on Guy Book Smith break. Disoriented, he makes his way to Rachel's side.

Puis/Illusionist: See? The bad luck has already set Guy miraculously free from his control! You'd just be beating up an old man at this point. Not very heroic, is it? There's no attack any of you could make now without becoming -- what the hell?!

As he is saying all that, T. L. Truevil, Theo Otto R., May B. Childe, and K. Sa'dia Red appear out of nowhere next to Al Ciao, Soriel, Tiger, and Relapse respectively. Lucy N. Smith and her brother, Guy Book Smith, stand next to the Amazing Adrian and Rachel Pi as well. Rachel throws her arm forward in a leading-the-charge motion, capitalizing on the confusion.

Rachel: EVERYONE, HAVE THEM TAKE BACK THE STORY!

The other heroes look at Rachel puzzled. Rachel proceeds to kiss Guy Book on the cheek.

Rachel: Get 'em, Guy!

Guy Book Smith, having received a kiss from the leading lady, brandishes his blade in preperation for an attack. The others follow her example in whatever ways they can imagine on the spot.

Al: Oh! Truevil, is it? That guy thinks he's the real Last True Evil, and he's a capitalist!

T. L. Truevil: The pig!

T. L. Truevil pulls an officer's saber from his coat. A glowing aura eminates around him thanks to Al's powerplaying.

Relapse: Hey Red, you know Vice is going to fire you sooner or later, right? In more ways than one, I'd imagine. Here's some special shuriken a hundred up front, with the promise of ten-fifty an hour, if you'll work for us.

K. Sa'dia Red: Sadly, that'd be a raise, so I accept.

Stepping forward, K. Sa'dia Red brandishes the weapons provided by Relapse.

Adrian: For your brother, Lucy?

Lucy: For my brother.

Lucy N. Smith steps forward, the air around her energized from the Amazing Adrian.

Soriel: Um, I'll buy you a drink?

Otto: Not the cheap stuff?

Soriel: As much as you want for the night.

Otto: Deal. So are you going to give me that sword?

Soriel: No.

Otto: But--

Soriel: I'm going to stab the Illusionist with it while he's distracted by our time-consuming dramatic charging.

Puis/Illusionist: Wha--

It is too late, though, as Fred teh Uber Blade sails through the air and stabs Vice's apprentice square in the chest.

Puis/Illusionist: Gah...you've won this time, but...we'll meet again...

The Illusionist then disappears, leaving Soriel's sword to fall to the ground.

Tiger: So, uh, erm...

May B. Childe: Yeah, I'll help too.

Tiger: Yay!

May B. Childe steps forward, elemental wind powers flowing around her.

Guy B. Smith: CHARGE!

The Story Arcade characters rush towards Vice, aided by the NeS heroes and Gaming Guardians, and attack simultaneously. Flashes of light like the ones when Vice was defeated in the beginning of this post explode, knocking everyone back and blinding the scene.

When the scene is visible again, the setting appears to be pure white, as if on a blank piece of paper or canvas. Everyone, including Vice, appears to be on the verge of death, barely able to move, much less attack. Vice starts chuckling.

Vice: My apprentice, wherever he may be now, was right, you know. At the edge of defeat, I am at my best. Whatever attack you could make now I would just turn back at you. In my final form...

Vice's body raises up, now appearing far more angelic as if he were ascending into heaven. He hovers strangely peacefully above the now meek-looking cast of characters.

Vice: Your friend, Guy, is now safe with you, yet I know some who would want more.

Vice turns to Soriel.

Vice: Do you not want me dead to satisfy your bloodlust, Soriel, even if it meant killing yourself and by chance, your friends?

Vice turns to Bokken Monkey.

Vice: Bokken, would you really help those who have probably treated you worse than I?

He turns to the Amazing Adrian.

Vice: Adrian, do you really wish for their never-ending madness to be the rule?

He turns again to Tiger, pulling out from behind him...

Vice: We could put all of this aside and have some cake.

He turns to Relapse.

Vice: Or would you prefer taking me out from this system, Relapse, and upset its balance from one of its most significant antagonists to date?

Finally, he turns to Rachel.

Vice: This is no joke, my dear. What unpredictable thing could you do now? A selfless sacrifice of your life for my own and return things to the presumable status quo? What could any of you have against me?

WILL THEY GIVE INTO VICE? FIND OUT, IN THE EXCITING CONCLUSION TO THE NEVER-ENDING STORY THREAD SQUARED: THE WITHOUT CREDIT STORY ARCADE CAMPAIGN!

(NSN: If the first "round" was comedic, and the second "round" was action-oriented, this final "round" is meant to be dramatic, as in wholly dependent on dialog. The conflict with the final form is actually a throwback to the old Vision Cycle threads on the ISB, where the big bad guys were so powerful, they had to be "defeated" with words, something of a logic-battle. I'm interested to see how this might play out here, though I do have at least one idea myself if the setup seems too difficult to solve well.)

*Back at Disneyworld, Maybe and Ford are about to execute their top secret rescue extraction op.*

MZZT: Do you really think Cris can handle this?

Maybechild: Part of leadership is not micro-managing people. You have to give them a chance to step up and succeed.

*Maybe's radio crackles.*

Cris: Red Falcon to Blue Horse, we are in position, over.

MZZT: Who's we? There's only one of him.

Maybechild: Blue Horse copies, Falcon. Wait for my go to engage. Over.

MZZT: And why are we blue horse? That's the stupidest callsign I ever heard.

Maybechild: I let Cris pick the names. He seemed to want to really badly.

MZZT: But you didn't give him input on the actual plan part of the plan, right?

Maybechild: Quiet.

*Maybe points at two Disneyguards patrolling the exterior of the tactical Disneybunker. She grabs the radio.*

Maybechild: Red Faclon, engage! Go go go!

Cris: Red Falcon copies your go Blue Horse! We are weapons-free!

MZZT: You gave him loaded weapons?

Maybechild: I think he can handle it, and part of leadership is showing people that you believe in them.

*Several loud explosions rip through the night sky to the east of Maybe and Ford and are immediately followed by the staccato blast of automatic gunfire.*

Cris: Red Falcon has engaged multiple bogeys! Yee-haw!

MZZT: I've been in some stupidly dangerous situations over the years, but I want to go on the record as saying this feels very unsafe.

Maybechild: But it does give us an opening.

*On cue the Disneyguards rush toward the racket, leaving the back door to the bunker momentarily unwatched.*

Maybechild: Let's move.

*Maybe and MZZT leave their concealed position behind a hot dog stand and run towards the door of the complex.*

(NSN: This is written by Tiger.)

A battered and bloodied Adrian finally comes to his senses, and after considerable effort manages to raise himself onto his hands and knees. He squints against the sheer white of the void surrounding him, surveying the fallout whist having to struggle to remain conscious. He sees his friends and allies scattered about, all just as broken as he. He sees the mildly angelic-seeming image of D. Vice hovering in the air above them (if it could actually be called that given the nature of this strange space).

But what holds his thoughts the most is the words that the man had spoken last. Indeed he might not have been quite conscious when they were spoken to him but nonetheless those words somehow possess his heart. And he finds himself unknowingly heeding every one of them.

Never-ending madness.

Adrian: That’s all this trip has been, hasn’t it?

A sudden jolt of weakness wracks his body, he collapses onto his side, trembling. But his thoughts are so heavy that he disregards his own plight.

Adrian: This is all been a waste of time, hasn’t it? All the chaos.. and we s-still loss in the end?

Earnest, Adrian glances about at his fallen comrades.

Relaspe is already on his feet by now; his mask partially torn, clutching his right shoulder from which his right arm hangs limply. He gazes up at Vice defiantly, his posture firm, somehow able to withstand his physical exhaustion.

Relaspe: You claim to give this system balance. How pretentious.

The ninja grits his teeth, more-so at the gall of that man than at the pain. Nonetheless the reasoning behind the Vice’s words have sunk in as deep as would a curved blade; and it is the reasoning that stays his hand. He himself wouldn’t profess to know the intricacies of this system as well as Vice does, given his experiences from the previous few hours. But why oughtn’t he challenge Vice right now??? Despite having completed the mission he can’t just let the jerk walk away after everything that’s happened! And that sentiment wasn’t so much practical as it hinged on principles. Evil must be punished, at all costs!

And at this moment he isn’t quite so weak that he can’t just end it right all right now. This story is only a shiriken’s throw away from being resolved permanently.

Relaspe, smirking: If that’s the way it has to be then to hell with this system..

Relaspe’s good arm twitches. It’s clutching his limp arm but he also has a kunai up the sleeve. Why does he hesitate! He isn’t one to boast and then not back up his words with actions. What’s there to be afraid of?

Relapse, trembling now: You are only saying that to buy time, aren’t you? You think that you can get into my head? Coerce me by appealing to my rationality? All of it just to save your own sorry ***? We’re way pass that point, aren’t we, Vice!

Indeed, Relapse is about ready to pass the point of no return. This is just another lowly criminal, a self-righteous clown who’s had a taste of power. He’s brought down more dangerous and more annoying villains countless times in the past. This time shouldn’t be any different. He’ll bring this man to justice as well and then get on with his life. This is just another walk in the park..

Suddenly Relapse falls to his knees. It isn’t out of weakness, though. He had.. faltered just now. For some reason he just couldn’t bring himself to move. But then he realizes, that deep down in his heart, a very small part of him.. sympathizes with Vice.

Relapse, growling: That’s wrong. That isn’t how I think at all.

There’s doubt. Perhaps this man, D. Vice, actually truly believes himself to be bringing order to this world.

Relapse: Narrator, shut up. Even if I -did- think that I’d still put my heel down his throat.

Who was he to try to stop Vice, when the very act itself would be considered evil.

Relapse: Shut up! I’m not a moron, I know he’s trying to weaken my resolve with this ‘morals’ mockery -- I KNOW the difference between good and evil. I’m not going to fall for it, okay? Why am I even listening to this?

Relapse struggles to gain his feet once again, and succeeds. This time he lets his arm hang limp. He has two kunai drawn in his good hand. He raises them..

He stops.

Relapse: ..I know I can’t beat you like this.. I know my team’s safety hinges on this.. but I’ll be damned if I let you look down on me..

Relapse trembles, from his weakness, and his hatred towards his own powerlessness.

Soriel is, by now, sitting in an up-right position and weakly leaning against his blade – the blade point of which is fixed in some crack in the.. ‘floor?’ Well, rather, the hypothetical surface that he is sitting on. He’s more injured than he appears to be, but nonetheless he wears a grin, more or less satisfied with himself for having had the chance to stab that illusionist. But he’s also troubled that the guy had gotten away. And he’s troubled at the discovery of the man’s true identity.

And he’s troubled by Vice’s earlier remark.

Soriel: Does everyone think that I’m this murderous, sword-totting maniac?

Fred: I don’t care. I just want to see more attractive women added to the cast.

Soriel: Be that as it may – that is, that I -am- all of what I’d said earlier – it just seems kind of dumb to invite someone to kill you, especially if you’d expect them to disregard their own well being and that of their comrades. You know?

Fred: Re-apply my previous statement.

Soriel: Eh, well, either way I can’t do anything now. I’m done. Huh!

Soriel chuckles.

Soriel: I had wanted to kill the obviously-ninja-looking-dude myself, but I guess I won’t get my chance now. Now that we’re all about to die.

He glances up, towards where the sky ought to be, but he sees nothing but stark white. He grimaces in disgust.

Soriel: We lose if he gets away. We lose if we attack him and we all die. I lose if I die from internal injuries. Or from being stuck here for all eternity.

The prospect of him never getting the change to kill things again dawns on Soriel, and melancholy sets in. His vision begins to swim.

Soriel: This sucks.. Aw well. It’s been a good run, friend.

Fred: Jackass. Were you even paying attention to what I’d said before!

Bokken Monkey lies still in a pool of his own blood. Having turned to the dark-side and yet still gotten the short end of the stick, he reflects that much of what has transpired is only typical for him. All his life he would try to achieve something only to fail in the end. This is much the same as how it was in college. All was going well until half a desk was dropped on top of his head.

Among other things.

Why would he expect anything to be different this time around? And now his boss who had mistreated him is trying to get him to side with him again.

Of course, from a practical stand point, the guy was right. He’d be better off siding with the winning team. It wasn’t so much an issue of who treated him worst. Really, he’s used to it by now.

Then he reflects that he’d only become used to it from the brief time he’d spent with Soriel. The jerk! Bokken had every reason to turn on those guys. They’d dragged him on this ridiculous crusade, gotten him into loads of trouble, and Lucy had even turned him down. For Soriel no less.

Perhaps he was truly better off helping Vice after all, if only to get back at his so-called ‘friends’ for their betrayal. Perhaps he’d be better off helping no one if it means that Vice gets the upper hand.

Perhaps he’s better off dead, if it means Game Over for everyone else as well.

The pain gradually begins to subside. Darkness settles in.

Tiger lets out a long, pained groan. At the moment he’s too hurt to move, or even lift his head. He senses that he has several fractured bones, and that he’s bleeding from several places. And he isn’t all that used to geting hurt (because he’s a might dragon and all) so naturally he whines about it.

But then Vice offers him cake.

Tiger: Cake?

Vice’s image comes into focus. The dragon sees the delectable pastry in the man’s hands.. and all at once D. Vice has succeeded in seizing Tiger’s affection. His pain seems to alleviate, the promise of cake seeming to empower him. He slowly, gradually manages to roll onto his belly.

Tiger: Yeah, yeah.. cake is good. Gimme cake..

Blood and drool spills from one side of his mouth, as he slowly begins to crawl towards the angelic figure.

Rachel is on her side, badly injured but staring towards Vice defiantly.

Rachel: Joke? You’re the joke here, ‘D-Vice’.

With a grunt, Rachel tries to sit up, but fails. But she doesn’t give in. They’d come all this way for Geboqh’s cure. She can’t fail now. There’s no way she can possibly fail!

She continues to struggle, her resolve strengthened by Vice’s audacity. True, it certainly IS cliché for the heroin to give up her life for her beloved. It’s basically one of the hallmarks of those sappy romantic dramas. What’s more, to commit such an act would be to commit oneself to becoming so unoriginal, so generic a character that one might as well cast on some under-budget sitcom.

Once upon a time Rachel wouldn’t have even considered such a prospect.

Rachel: For my fiancé.. I have to do this!

Rachel continues to struggle to recover her strength. She fights to draw on her powers of improvisation, to think of a running-gag that might put this Vice in his place for good! But the solution doesn’t come this time. For she is too shaken by the pain, too exhausted from the effort..

She slumps back down to the surface of this white abyss. Tears begin to well in her eyes but she struggles to hold in her sob. And then suddenly that’s all the strength she has left – only enough to keep herself from breaking in tears in front of her adversary; and even that strength is waning fast.

Out of one corner of her eye she sees her hand, with the ring on it. The sense of her own helplessness is overwhelming.

Rachel, in a choked voice: Why.. why am I so weak?

Adrian: DON’T GIVE UP!

Adrian’s voice booms and echoes against the white void, as if almost corporeal in itself. And then, not only has Adrian succeeded in stinging the ears of everyone who is currently conscious and essentially exacerbating their ailings..

Adrian, softer voice: Sorry..

..But he has also succeeded in grabbing their attention as well. For as grievously injured as he appears to be, he’d somehow managed to gain his feet. He’s gripping his bleeding side, but nonetheless he’s standing tall, his expression a determined grimace.

He’d witnessed the suffering and the anguish his friends are enduring. Even Al Ciao, who actually looks to have gotten out of the impact relatively unscathed, although he is suffering from a serious concussion.

Al: My hair stopped most of the impact, actually.

And through witnessing all this he has affirmed something that he’d felt deep within his heart. And with this ‘something’ he feels his inner-strength swell within himself.

Adrian: I know it might all sound cliché, but don’t give in to him, guys.

Soriel: We heard you the first time. Although it isn’t like we have a choice..

Adrian shakes his head, balling up a fist.

Adrian: Your right, Soriel, we don’t have a choice. And he’s right, too!

Al: You mean Vice?

Soriel: If your trying to rile us up with a victory speech, your doing a heck of a job.

Adrian: Vice is right, and so was the narrator. About everything!

Relapse: The hell he was!

Adrian: Soriel’s bloodlust, the balance of the system, and even the cake. All of us are motivated towards different ends, right? And all of those ends could be achieved, one way or another, even if we give in to Vice.

Adrian begins walking towards Vice, having somehow found the strength to move. Everyone watches him with rapt attention. Included Vice, who gazes down at the hero with a condescending glare, still holding that cake in one hand. And he continues to hover there, his image brighter than even the white of his surroundings.

Adrian: I, for one, do not want it to end. Ever.

Vice scoffs, but Adrian smiles and keeps up his approach.

Adrian: You had asked me just now ‘do you really wish for their never-ending madness to be the rule?’ And I considered it. And I’ll admit that I agree with you there; all this craziness does run a guy ragged after a while. There ought to be some sort of order in place, maybe. But then I realized that you really aren’t so opposed to the unruliness and chaos of the NeS so much that you only seek stability and order for the sake of achieving your own ends.

Adrian stops then, so that he wouldn’t have to crane his neck so much to stare up at Vice.

Adrian: There is your end-game, Vice. But that’s also the difference between you and me. I’m sick and tired of racing to the finish line!

Adrian raises an arm, makes a swooping gesture to indicate all those present.

Adrian: I’ve come to appreciate the NeS for what it is, even in all its chaos. I’d realized that I’d actually had a pretty good time so far. I met some interesting people, even made new friends. And I shared precious memories. And I got to experience some exiting adventures and help out people. Sure, we came here to rescue a friend. But once that’s done I’m going to keep going to experience new things.

And then Adrian brings the arm to level at Vice, clenching his hand into a fist, brandishing his wind-ring at the villain.

Adrian: And that is why.. we mustn’t give up! Because to give in would be to bring an end to this story, right? Then, if only to prolong this never-ending story a little longer I will resist you no matter what!

This is probably the MOST heroic Adrian had been during this entire story arch, or perhaps even his career. Heck, his pose is even ultra heroic.

Relapse: Awesome speech, Adrian. Now if only we can work around this guy’s crazy-assed RPG gimmicks.

Red: Like that’s ever stopped you before.

Relapse: You?! Are you..?

Red appears by the ninja’s side, looking no more worst for wear than he is.

Red, grinning: I’m fine. But as for you, if your really that worried over what happens to us and the rest of NeS after this guy’s gone, don’t. Its like your friend said, NeS is so steeped in craziness its probably already out of balance!

Relapse, smirking: That was far from my concern, although I do appreciate the reassurance.

Despite saying that, Relapse truly was set at ease by Red’s words. He gains his feet with Red’s help, having found the resolve to carry out what needed to be done.

Relapse: I was not! I don’t care what Darth Idiot had said!

Meanwhile, a rejuvenated Otto helps the swordsman to his feet.

Otto: Need help with that sword?

Soriel: Do you want to die?

Otto: Just lending a helping hand. Because I’m the helping kind of guy.

Soriel: And because I bribed you with free drinks.

Soriel winces, shutters slightly.

Otto: Here. Up on my back. You can still use your arms, right? Then you can borrow my legs.

Soriel: Nevermind the fact that this is utterly disgraceful, but.. do you really want to risk your life for booze?

Otto: Do you really have to ask me that?

Soriel: Fair enough.

Soriel grins, having found the strength to persevere through Otto’s aid (even though that ‘aid’ is steadily failing, as Otto can barely support Soriel’s weight). Soriel supposes that even though this might be the end, he may as well settle for attempting an unselfish act. There isn’t any particular reason for that other than that the act itself would truly be better than doing nothing.

Soriel: I guess Vice was right after all. I want him dead so much that I don’t give a **** what happens to the rest of us.

Otto, struggling: That’s comforting.

Meanwhile, T. L. Truevil and Al Ciao crouch to either side of Bokken Monkey.

Al: He seems really out of it.

T. L. Truevil: I’m getting blood all over my clothes.

Al: Well we can’t just leave him here.

T. L. Truevil: We can’t bury him here.

Al: He’s not dead!

T. L. Truevil: It looks that way to me.

Bokken: I’m not dead.

Al: Bokken! Your alive!

Bokken: ..That’s what I’d just said. I heard screaming and I woke up..

Al: That was Adrian. He gave a rousing victory speech.

Bokken: ..That’s nice.

Al: You should get up, though. You don’t seem all that hurt.

Bokken: I’m bleeding to death.

Al: But you aren’t dead yet!

Bokken: Get up and do what, then?

Al: I.. don’t know. Help us win?

Bokken: But I’m your enemy. And how would I even help?

Al: I don’t know! I don’t care. Look, whatever you decide to do is on you. But either way you shouldn’t just lay there. Stand up!

Bokken: I’m.. going to die anyway..

Al: Then resist for as long as you can! You’ve had insane bad luck for a long time, right?

Bokken: All my life, yeah?

Al: That sucks. Bet it sucks even more than bleeding to death, huh?

Bokken: Actually.. it kind of does.

Al: And your going to let something as little as that stop you?

Al offers Bokken a hand up. And so does a tentative T. L. Truevil, even though he’d loathed to get blood all over himself. And even though Al’s simple act of kindness doesn’t change Bokken’s perspective on any of his presumed friends and enemies, the guy’s words had nonetheless inspired him to persevere, if but for little longer.

Tiger, meanwhile, has continued his slow crawl towards Vice, trailing blood and drool and scale-shards in his wake.

May: Man, I’d never imagine you were this weak.

May sits atop the base of Tiger’s tail as the dragon continues to press on.

Tiger, grunting: Do I know you?

May: I’m May, from the academy.

Tiger: Miss Childe?

May: Yes.

Tiger: Cool.. be gone, please.

May: Seriously! You’re giving in to a piece of cake?

Tiger, wailing: You don’t understand! It isn’t just a piece of cake, it’s a whole freaking cake!! Do you know how long its been since I’ve had a piece?? Its.. I must.. have it..

May: Shake it off, man! Your basically saying that you’d rather trade your freedom for cake!

Tiger: What do you care? Miss I-complain-about-everything.

May scowls.

May: I care a lot. Look, I know that you all had ulterior motives for helping me, but I still owe you. But that isn’t why I’m here.

Tiger: It isn’t?

May: Well.. I don’t exactly know how I got here, but -anyway-, the point is that I’ve learned that if you take the effort to stand up for what you believe in, even if its against something as little or as silly as people leaving their paper plates and plastic soda cans in the dining hall and the classrooms for someone else to pick up, then it is the act in itself and the results that count. Having the courage to stand up for the right thing makes you into a better person.

Tiger: You lost that protest, didn’t you?

May: That’s beside the point.

Tiger: Anyway, I am standing up for what I believe in. And I believe in CAKE!!!

May: And that is why I’m going to stand up for you. ..And offer you a banquette at the academy if you resist him. There will be cake.

Tiger pauses, astounded.

Tiger: You.. you just basically stooped to Vice’s level! You took away my freedom!

May, smiling: That’s what friends are for. They make others protest against their will. Vice’s tyranny must come to an end, no matter what, though.

Tiger manages to get to his feet, still haggard, but determined nonetheless.

Tiger: Alright then.. for the cake! RAAAWR!

Rachel watches the dragon stomp off towards Vice.. until her view is obscured by someone’s shoe. She looks up, and sees Lucy. Lucy, in turn, stoops down and offers her a hand.

Lucy: I never properly thanked you. For helping me back at the tavern. With that toaster.

Rachel is at lost for words. She doesn’t accept the hand, thus Lucy has to crouch and help her to sit up. And so does Guy for that matter!

Guy: She helped you with a toaster? Was it broken?

Lucy: More like murderous.

Guy: Heh! Well in my opinion, it does rather seem unbecoming of a ‘weak’ person, Rachel.

Rachel looks up, watches Guy. Guy gently rubs at Rachel’s face with a palm, to get rid of the tears.

Guy: You aren’t weak, Rachel. Your pretty strong, actually.

Lucy: I was in trouble and you helped me out. See, I got my brother back.

Guy then offers her the Plot Device Finder, which is remarkably still intact.

Guy, smiling: I know this isn’t much in the way of encouragement.. but don’t be down on yourself. We owe you a lot!

Both Guy and Lucy helps Rachel to her feet, and Rachel suddenly finds the strength to stand.

Rachel, taking the device: But.. how..?

Guy: You mean how we’re still alive? I don’t know. I guess.. at some point I figured that I still have plenty of stuff to get done.

Lucy: Yeah! And I’m not going to just let it end here. I haven’t made up my mind yet.

Rachel and Guy: What?

Lucy: Who I want to go out with. Otto or Soriel.

Rachel: Ohhh.. kay..

Guy: .. Right. Here, Rachel. If the pressure gets to be too much then let us be strong for you.

Rachel: ..

Rachel wipes at her eyes gives a nod.

Having found the strength to press on a little longer the heroes rally for their final battle. And the angelic Vice watches on with disgust in his expression.

Vice: Don’t you people get it? If you fight me you will lose! No matter what, I’ll only turn the tide against you again!

Adrian: Haven’t you noticed yet?

Adrian rises into the air, ascends until he is eye-level with Vice. Still brandishing his ring, he faces off against the sith.

Adrian: My friends.. they’re too darn determined to reason with. And it’s all because of you, Vice. You said that you’ve given us every opportunity to get this far? To railroad us all to this single finale? Well we each have our own, individual happy endings, and you don’t get to be a part of any of them.

The final confrontation is encroaching. But.. will it truly be the ‘end’ of our heroes? Find out in the exciting not-conclusion!

*Meanwhile Maybechild and MZZThave snuck their way though the Disneybunker and arrived at the central chamber.*

MZZT: Look, it's our resident evil doctor...Doctor Evil!

*Dr. Evil is in his motorized wheelchair watching the war play out on several large screens.*

Dr. Evil: So heroes, we meet once again.

Maybechild: Let our friends go, Evil, and we can all walk away from this.

Dr. Evil: If you wanted them so badly why did you send them to back to my dungeons after your escape in the first place?

Maybechild: I made a mistake. I got wrapped up in my own desires and put them ahead of the team.

MZZT: Wow, that was really big of you to say, Maybe.

Maybechild: Part of leadership is being able to admit your own shortcomings.

MZZT: Where are you getting these platitudes anyway?

Maybechild: I've been reading up.

*Maybe pulls out a copy of 101 Success Strategies for Modern Workplace Management.*

Dr. Evil: Well, no matter. Despite the fact that I am apparently fighting some sort of massive global conflict I can still make time to have you dismantled by my animatronic deathbots.

Maybechild: I don't think so. Red Falcon, Red Falcon! Commence phase two of operation, over!

*The voice of Cris B comes through loud and clear.*

Cris: Copy, Blue Horse! Commencing phase two of operation Pizza Rocket now!

MZZT: I see you also let him pick the plan's name.

*Maybe shrugs.*

Dr. Evil: Alright then. Goodbye.

*But just as Dr. Evil summons the robots the door shatters into splinters. Standing in the empty frame is Cris B, wearing an ammo bandolier and his face made up in camouflage paint.*

Cris: That's right! Mess with the best and die like that door I just kicked in!

*Cris fires several rounds into the ceiling for good measure.*

Cris: Yeehaw!

MZZT: I'm not sure that's how the saying goes.

Cris: So, it appears we have ourselves an oldschool mexican standoff!

Dr. Evil: Only a regular standoff, I'm afraid.

Cris: Oh. Well, it appears we have ourselves an oldschool regular standoff!

Dr. Evil: Yes, I just said that -

Cris: Cowboy style!

*Cris kicks over a desk.*

Dr. Evil: Please stop that.

*Dr. Evil presses a button on his wheelchair arm and a housekeeping terrordroid enters to clean up the mess.*

Maybechild: You may have your robot armies Dr. Evil, but we've got some crazy guy with a machine gun.

Dr. Evil: Indeed. It appears the time for negotiation has come. Very well - this will be a good test for the newest member of my organization.

*Dr. Evil presses another wheelchair button and a door opens.*

Semievil: Oh hey guys. What's up?

*In walk Sem and Totallyevil.*

Cris: What's up is that you wandered into the midst of operation: Pizza Rocket, the single greatest paramilitary undertaking the NeS has ever known!

Semievil: What's a pizza rocket?

*Dr. Evil clears his throat.*

Dr. Evil: My son, have you been monitoring the situation?

Semievil: Yes, father.

Dr. Evil: And what is your solution?

Semievil: My solution...is to let the captured heroes go...

*Totally gasps.*

Cris: Hooray!

Semievil: ...And to rejoin my friends as a hero of the NeS!

Dr. Evil: I see. I had hoped you would be my successor, but if that is your choice I respect it.

*Dr. Evil presses yet another button on his wheelchair and a multi-armed deathbot enters the room carrying Ante and Otter.*

Antestarr: Can someone explain why I woke up in jail?

Maybechild: Uh, we're not really sure about that. Glad we're all back together and not getting angry at anyone though.

MZZT: Hey wait a minute, what happened to Voodoosnowflakes?

Voodoosnowflakes: Oh hi guys.

*Voodoo walks in.*

Maybechild: Where did you come from?

Voodoo: I fell asleep on the bus ride and when I woke up everyone was gone except for these crazy robots fighting these crazy hell minions.

MZZT: Sounds crazy.

Voodoo: I fought my way into the heart of Disneyworld, waging a running guerilla battle against both sides as I attempted to gain entry to the computer mainframe but then I blacked out.

Antestarr: Weird.

Voodoo: Oh well. Alls well that ends well, as they say. What have you guys been doing?

Maybechild: Well -

Cris: We've been doing operation: Pizza Rocket! In fact, we're doing it right now!

Dr. Evil: This is all very interesting but I have to return to managing my international wars.

*Dr. Evil wheels himself closer to the wall-mounted screens.*

Totallyevil: Well Sem, I guess this is goodbye for the next little while. I was really hoping you'd come back to help dad out but I can see that you've got your own life to run, with a fulfilling job and friends who need you.

Semievil: Plus I'm only really semievil so I probably wouldn't make the greatest supervillain.

Totallyevil: Things aren't going to be easy around here, what with the raging minions of hell tearing up the place and Hero Force One bombarding us with their orbital ion cannon, but we'll manage.

MZZT: I still can't believe you two are brother and sister.

Semievil: Well, only half-brother.

Ford: Really?

Totallyevil: You can't tell? I'm a normal human girl and Sem's a terrible green skeleton monster.

Semievil: One time I was a yeti.

Cris: And now for the exciting conclusion of operation: Pizza Rocket where we escape to victory on a flying pizza rocket!

Maybechild: Cris...there are no pizza rockets.

Cris: What?

Maybechild: I just made it up so you would pay attention to the plan. It was part of leadership.

*Cris angrily throws down is gun.*

Cris: Well nuts to this!

Deep within the streets of the unnamed city, Ben trails Sup as the walking superego tries to catch up with his id and the ape. It’s a mostly silent chase, broken only occasionally by Ben’s hyperventilated ranting.

Benjamin: This isn’t happening. I’m not hearing voices, and I’m not going crazy. Life isn’t a story. I’m sure I’ll wake up any moment now and find out this has all been the result of some back cardboard.

Sup rolls his eyes, and resist the urge to intervene in the idiocy. The superego has enough trouble keeping his own out of control ego and idiotic id in line without trying to manage someone else. Of course, that makes one wonder where JMX01 fits into all this.

Sup: He doesn’t. Not stop playing cat and mouse with me, narrator, and lead me to Id.

And as it turns out, Id and and JMX01 were just around the next corner sitting outside a donut shop at a street side table enjoying a couple of glazed.

Sup: Thank you narrator. Now, are you two done fooling around or can we get around to tracking down Ego?

Id: ID LIKE NUT OF DOUGH.

JMX01: Yes my friend. These pastries are a thing of great beauty. They calm savage anger of even my soul.

Sup: And more fooling around it is then. Narrator? Am I still being followed?

Following implies movement. Ben is currently hiding behind some trashcans in a corner alleyway. Oh, now he’s scurrying up a drain pipe. And now across a roof. And now grasping his head in a sign of hysteria. And now…

Benjamin: Shut up! You don’t exist. Stop giving away my location toump!

And just as quickly has his nerve snapped, Ben is snapped up by the large hands of Id. Lowering the closed palm down to his counterpart, the brute questions…

Id: ID SMASH?

Sup: Hm… that is a surprising good question. Letting him go simply leaves him vulnerable to being consumed by Ego. But do we risk rising the ire of the plot conventions by appearing to be villains?

Benjamin the Writer: Might I offer a compromise?

At the sound of this new disembodied voice, Sup raising an eyebrow. Within Id’s large palm, Ben has a much different reaction. His eyes goes wide, his throat dries, and his breathing picks up pace. Unlike the narrator, this voice is more then a whisper in the back of his head. It is clear, in the forefront, and impossible to ignore. It is…

Benjamin the Writer: Oops. One second.

A sudden shock runs through Ben. As quickly as it comes it passes, and he finds himself asleep in the hands of the giant. Id opens his palm and subtlety pokes the slumbering rat.

Sup: Finally. Wonderful hysteric piece of work you created there.

Benjamin the Writer: So I didn’t make him story aware. I thought it would be nice to ease him in gradually. Not my fault half the writers are tossing him head first into a baptismal of fire. In any case, you want to defeat the Incalculable Ego, yes?

Sup: We want to… halt his actions. Do you have something to offer us?

Benjamin the Writer: Information. I attempted send some characters after the Incalculable Ego. Not the wisest thing even in rethought, but just ignoring him would have resulted in him consuming half the cast before the other writers decided to handle him rather then their own plotlines.

Sup: I take it things didn’t go well? How surprising…

Benjamin the Writer: Sarcasm aside, yes, it didn’t go well. I was expecting JM (the Writer) to simply have him retreat. Instead he… had IE becomes one with his assaulter. They are now the DarkEgo.

Sup: The DarkEgo? …you didn’t.

Benjamin the Writer: Yes, I sent Darkside after him. It’s not like I was going to play soft ball with the amalgamation of Darkside and Highemp.

Sup: Well it could have been worse. You could have sent Darkside 3000 after him.

Benjamin the Writer: Plot no! I’m not that insane. The plot holes alone from having Darkside 3000 appear outside of his prison would be a nightmare in and of itself, much less releasing Darkside 3000 about the world once again.

Sup: Anyway, thank you for the information, but it doesn’t really help us any unless you can tell us where they are.

Benjamin the Writer: Oh that. The entire battle took place on a warehouse room just down the street from here. No one has posted about them being anywhere else yet, so plot conventions should be able to allow you to catch them if you hurry?

Is this the foreshadowing to the final showdown between the Incalculable Ego and his discarded parts, or will other writers discard it for the comedic convention of showing up too late? Speaking of discarding, will Ben now be discarded to the sidelines or is he now Id’s new pet? Find out the answer to these questions and more in another installment of the Neverending Story Squared!

While ID and JMX01 ordered bagels, Sup pondered what to do. On one hand, he now knew exactly where Ego was. And he trusted story conventions enough to know that no matter how long he took to get there, Ego would be just leaving when they arrived. On the other hand, Ego was now DarkEgo. Does that mean he has all the powers of Ego and Darkside combined? Quite possibly. With that sort of strength, he might very well be able to absorb a main character. Even Gebohq.

ID : BAGEL NOT CUT!

JMX01 : Allow me.

JMX01 levels his cleave-o-matic and renders ID's bagel into two neat halves.

Sup : Hmm. Gigantic Baboon, do you think that gun of yours will have the same effect on DarkEgo as it had on The Patriot?

JMX01 : I see no reason why it would not.

JM The Writer : Lets not be premature.

Sup : You! Benjamin the writer's biggest mistake was thinking Ego was under your control.

JM The Writer : Or you, it seems. Ego is more useful as DarkEgo. The NES is crumbling under the weight of an exponentially exploding character population. Ego, and now DarkEgo, is the only way in this universe to be rid of a character once and for all.

Sup : The others will believe this motive?

JM The Writer : No. But it may still buy some time. Consider. Is he strong enough now for what you plan?

Sup : No. But he cannot last much longer. It must be soon. I must gather an audience for the event as soon as possible.

JM The Writer : That should be easy enough. Just revive Gebohq.

A slow drip of water echoes eerily a thousand times in a cavern, deep underground. Stalagmites and Stalactites formed like hundreds of sharp fangs jut from the floor and ceiling of the cavern. A pattern of shadows dances on the walls and ceiling of the cavern, projected by a deep pool of clear water which somehow seems to eminate light. Other than that there is no movement. Time passes, the sound of the dripping water like a ticking clock, marking off the seconds. Nestled at the base of a stalagmite is a dark lump. At first the lump appears to be no more than one of the uncountable large rocks that litter the cave floor. But upon closer inspection, it is noted that this lump seems different, softer somehow. The most careful observation will show that this lump rises and falls in a steady motion, as breath is drawn into lungs and exhaled in the slow pattern of one asleep. And then, the lump groans. It expands, as legs uncurl from the main mass, and then ever so slowly, arms being to feel around, and the lump is identified as a body. For an instant, the endless dance of light on the walls illuminates the face of Sarn Cadrill, severely bruised and swoolen. Sarn groans again and attempts to raise his body from the hard, rocky ground, but his weakness mocks him, and he surrenders to it after a mediocre effort. He looks around to take stock of his surrounding.

The light eminating from the pool of water is faint, but Sarn can make out his surroundings well enough. He once again attempts to rise and, after much effort, is able to pull himself into a sitting position against the stalagmite, his legs played out in front of him. His heartbeat echoes in his ears with the effort. And then, he notices something. The light from the deep pool, begins to pulsate, growing stronger and weaker in time with his beating heart. A moment passes and the light grows. While still dim, Sarn can now begin to make out greater details. And the first he notices is a figure standing before him, previously mistaken for another stalagmite. The figure is cloaked in shadow, but the light continues to increase, so Sarn waits, not sure he can move regardless. And then the figure speaks to him.

??: Sarn Cadrill. You are indeed resiliant.

The voice is vaguely familiar, but Sarn is unable to place it.

Sarn: Who are you?

??: Haha, always the inquisitive one, aren't we? I am impressed with how quickly you are recovering.

Sarn: Well, thanks I guess. How did I get here?

??: You do not remember? Think back.

Sarn attempts to focus his thoughts. There are nothing but blurs. He works his way back, slowly grasping for clarity. And then...

Sarn: Voodoo! Where is she? Is she well?

The figure lets out a deep bass chuckle.

??: So very selfless. You are indeed the hero your reputation makes you out to be. But then I needed no reminder of that.

As the two have spoken, the light has continued to increase, and now the figure steps forward out of the shadows. Sarn's eyes widen.

Sarn: No! It's impossible! You're dead! I saw you die.

??: It would seem appearances can be deceiving. Now, continue to rest. You will need your strength for what awaits you.

The man laughs again. Then, he turns and disappears into the shadows.

Sarn: No! You *******! Get back here! Where is Voodoo? What have you done with her?!

Sarn's demanding questions are answered only by the reliable drip of water. The light continues to grow in the cavern, and seems to reflect strongly off the walls, bringing the space to a dim, but quite revealing level of light. As Sarn looks around, he sees now that there seems to be no way in or out of the large cavern. The light further reveals that Sarn is now quite alone. Sarn attempts to stand, but his body is still took weak. After a moment, he settles back and focuses on maintaining a steady, relaxed breath. After a moment, he falls asleep.

In the central chamber of the Disneybunker, Dr. Evil suddenly looks up in surprise. His eyes fall on Voodoo Snowflakes. He wheels over to her and studies her face closely.

Voodoo: Uhh.. What's up, man?

Dr. Evil: Young lady, did your companions call you Voodoo? Voodoo Snowflakes?

Voodoo: Uh yeah. That's me. Why?

Dr. Evil: It seems I have a message for you. A former... associate of mine recently contacted me and gave me this.

Dr. Evil pulls from a hidden compartment on the motorized chair an envelope. Scrawled across the front, is Voodoo's name.

Dr. Evil: My associate was somehow sure that we would meet, and made it quite clear that it would be quite evil to give you this message. I do so hope it brings you misery.

Voodoo reaches out and takes the envelope. Opening it, she finds a letter, written in a flowing, precise hand.

Maybechild: Huh? What is it? Who's it from?

Voodoo's eyes flick to the bottom of the page.

Voodoo: There's no name.

She returns her gaze to the beginning of the note and reads silently. After a moment, her eyes widen. Her brow furrows.

Voodoo: No. This can't be true. Who gave this to you?

A tear forms in her eye and travels slowly down her cheek. Dr. Evil laughs.

Dr Evil: He insisted that his identity remain a secret for the time being. I must say, I am quite pleased with the result. You appear quite shook up.

Maybechild: Voodoo, what is it?

Voodoo: This letter.. It's Sarn. It says he's... dead.

Voodoo loses her composure and turns away, tears falling freely down her face.

Maybechild: It's not possible, Voodoo. You're going to trust an unsigned letter from Dr. Evil?

Voodoo: But what if it is true? I haven't seen him in so long. I don't even know where he is or what he's doing.

Dr. Evil chuckles at Voodoo's emotional state.

Dr. Evil: Why this is nearly as fun as taking over the world with an army of robots. You look positively shaken, my dear. Who is this Sarn fellow?

Voodoo merely glares at him. Dr. Evil chuckles and returns to his monitors.

[NSP: Ok, so I'm waaaaay out of touch, and for this last part, I'm benching on Dr. Evil having not ever met Voodoo (not to mention, no one having taken over Sarn's storyline). So I really hope this works. Geb, feel free to edit as needed. :D]

We rejoin Cool Matty, Mimiru, Subaru and Wai at the portal room. They are joined by a mysterious group of people who arrived from a portal Wai created.

Michael is a 6 foot 2 inch blonde man, of about 24 years of age. He looks gentle, but the way he stands seems to imply a deep inner strength.

Yukari is a young woman, 5'5". She's 20 years old, black hair (in a ponytail as is her typical style), and carried two swords on her. A katana on her left side hip, and a wakizashi on her back. Despite her appearance, she gives off a sort of tomboyish impression.

Jonathan is a young man, age 21. He's a shorter 5'9", Australian, with brown spiked hair. He carries a Colt .45 pistol. Jon doesn't seem too concerned about their predicament, and often finds the lighter side of a situation.

Sienna is a 22 year old woman, 5'7". She has black shoulder length hair, and is of Hispanic descent. She doesn't carry any weapons, but is holding tightly to a young girl at her side. Although she gives off a motherly impression, the girl is not her own.

The girl is Anna, a 10 year old, 4'4" with light brown pigtailed hair. She carries no weapons either, but she seems incredibly intelligent for her age. Despite her intelligence though, she's still a child, and is treated as one, much to her chagrin.


Michael: What the hell was that voice just now?

CM: Him? Oh that's just the narrator.

Sienna: How does he know so much about us already?

Wai: The narrator knows anything and everything, except when it's more comedic for him not to know.

CM: Everyone hates him, it's best just to pretend he doesn't exist.

Hey, what the hell?! I put up with a lot of your crap you know, I think after all these years I deserve a little respect! I've been here for 10 straight years! No other character in this story can claim such consistent appearance!

CM: See what I mean? He gets annoying, fast.

Michael: I see.

Mimiru: So... where did you come from? That place looked rather... barren.

Yukari: That world we escaped, it was our world, Earth. Rather, what's left after the disaster and corruption.

CM: What? Ours is Earth. Yours can't be Earth.

Wai: So what were you doing?

Michael: We were on our way to investigate something in a place called "Wisconsin".

Wai: Wisconsin's a state in the USA.

Michael: The USA... right, that was the name of the country before the nuclear event. I wonder... is it possible that we come from your future?

Subaru: You're asking us? How should we know? If you're from the future, you should know this stuff!

Anna: We're from the year 2342, I think.

CM: 2342? It's 2009!

Mimiru: I think that answers that question then.

Sienna: Guys, you know what this means?

Michael: Yeah... this is the year the nuclear event occurred.

Anna: Do you think it will happen here?

Jon: If this is the same continuum, I'd say yes.

Wai: What is this "nuclear event"?

Michael: Back in 2009, in our history, the world rejoiced at the development of a new development, the creation of nuclear fission. However, it failed, and grew out of control. We were forced to detonate large scale nuclear bombs to cancel out the fission reaction before it devoured Earth. The result was a near-nuclear winter. The planet stayed only just warm enough for us to survive as we built a dome to protect ourselves, the remaining population.

Wai: We don't have any sort of fission technology here, it's still being tested.

Michael: Interesting. Then perhaps our timelines do not parallel each other as much as we thought.

CM: Then what do we do? Should we check it out?

Jon: Makes sense to me. You guys up for it?

The rest of the future team nodded in approval

Yukari: Guess that's that, then.

Mimiru: So... where does this fission event happen?

Michael: No one knows, it was never recorded.

Mimiru: You're kidding.

Yukari: He's not.

Mimiru: How could you never write down something that important!

Michael: Hey don't yell at me! I wasn't alive back then!

Subaru *face palming*: Even in the future humanity is filled with idiots...

Stay tuned next time for more exciting adventures! Not including me! After 10 years, I'm RETIRING. You guys obviously don't need me anymore. So find your own way! This is the narrator, signing off.

Sarn's head and upper body breach the surface of the cavern lake in a violent eruption. He gasps for breath as he treads water. Once recovered, he swims to the edge of the pool and grips the edge, resting his body. His strength recovered, Sarn has been exploring the pool of water for quite some time and has discovered only that the pool is very deep. He has yet to find a bottom. The water itself is cool and clear. Light still eminates from the water, though Sarn can find no source other than the water itself. Even with the luminous nature of the water, the depths of the pool are dark.

Sarn draws in a deep breath and once again dives downward, pushing himself down and out from the wall with his legs. He swims down, deeper and deeper feeling for the floor of the pool. As with each attempt before, he is forced to turn and ascend without reaching any bottom. This time, once he is again perched along the side of the pool, he looks up at the roof of the cavern in annoyance.

Sarn: Didn't you say you were retiring?

Sarn sighs in frustration.

Sarn: It's annoying enough being trapped in here without you describing every little thing I do.

Sarn somehow seems to know I said I was retiring, as though he is privy to all parts of the NeS, in spite being in desolate isolation in the cave... Sarn rolls his eyes in annoyance. He opens his mouth to speak.

Sarn: Oh come on already. You don't have to say that I'm opening my mouth to speak! It's not like I'm talking with my mouth closed. Stupid narrator.

The last part was muttered, as though by lowering the volume of his voice, Sarn could somehow prevent me from hearing. However, I did hear, and now am quite miffed. Sarn suddenly floats up into the air.

Sarn: Wha? What's happening?

As he nears the ceiling of the cavern, the invisible strings that appear to be supporting him sever, and Sarn plummets into the pool with a great splash. Moments later, he surfaces, spluttering.

Sarn: What the hell? Stop that!

Once again, Sarn floats up into the air.

Sarn: Damnit, Narrator! Put me down!

This time, he rises only a few feet above the surface of the pool before his body begins to rotate. In a matter of seconds he is dangling upside down. Blood rushes into his head. He shakes it vigorously from side to side, to no effect.

Sarn: Come on. This is childish.

Unfortunately, Sarn forgot to apologize to the Narrator for calling him annoying. He also forgot to say please. A great mass of fireants suddenly appears on Sarn's body. Sarn begins struggling in the air, slapping himself repeatedly trying to fight off the onslaught.

Sarn: Ok already!

Fireants swarm into Sarn's mouth. He spits frantically as he continues trying to talk.

Sarn: Iphm Sohyey! Plepsh puh mmmm duooow.

Unfortunately, the Narrator is unable to understand him, due to the fireants inhibiting his speech.

Sarn: Plepsh! Plepsh!

Suddenly, Sarn again plummets into the water. The fireants are washed from his body and float on the surface of the pool. They abruptly disappear. Sarn is upside down under the water and is having difficulty orienting himself. He finally rights himself and swims to the surface. He flounders in the water, gasping for air. After several minutes, he seems to recover. He swims back to the edge of the pool and speaks. His words are slurred, and he appears to be in agony. Welts cover his body, and his face is a swoolen mass of red.

Sarn: Pleeash, I'm sorry. Leaf me alone, pleash. You cah narraye all you wan.

The welts disappear from Sarn's body and the swelling goes away. Instantly, he looks as though nothing has happened. Well, almost nothing. One welt remains on his left buttcheek to remind him of the perils of arguing with the narrator. He scrathes it absentmindedly under the water, and once again looks toward the roof of the cavern. Anger flashes across his face, then is quickly hidden. He speaks again, changing the subject, lest the Narrator be angered again.

Sarn: There's got to be some way out of this cavern. Swimming around in this pool is accomplishing nothing more than making me tired.

Sarn climbs from the pool, wringing out his black t-shirt and shaking himself to remove the water. He takes one last look at the pool, then lays down to rest. After a moment, his eyes close. Little does he know that the very key to his survival is that round luminous body of water. Sarn opens his eyes suddenly.

Sarn: What? I heard that. How? What's going on?

Damnit. Uhm... Sarn suddenly forgets the last thing the Narrator said about the pool.

Sarn: Huh? What was that about a pool?

Sarn settles back down and closes his eyes once more. Sleep follows moments later.

Flipping once more to the events turning on the grounds of Story Arcade, the protagonists stand united against Vice. Floating gracefully, Vice clasps his hands together before gesturing an offer with his palms open.

Vice: So you are given drive once more, but where will you go from here? You didn't hope to be rid of me with a motivational speech, did you?

The cast of characters look to each other and, while still spirited, find themselves at a loss for a response. Rachel then turns to Vice.

Rachel: Rid of you? We could never be rid of you, Vice. And... it would seem that we will never beat you at your own game either. Which is too bad, really. We all had hoped this would be our game too, but... well, this isn't any business you need to be concerned about. Come on, everybody, let's get out of here.

Everybody, Vice included, eyes Rachel with confusion.

Rachel: Chop chop, people! We need to get going if we're going to have the Arcaders like Guy and the others backed up before it's too late. Let's move out! No time to waste!

Reluctantly, the others begin to follow Rachel away from Vice.

Vice: Where do you think you all are going? Too late for what? Explain yourself!

Everyone looks to Rachel with the same interest as Vice. Rachel, not bothering to turn her attention back to Vice, continues to stroll slowly instead.

Rachel: Well, if you must know, we were all here to test this Story Arcade system of yours, to see if it could still be usable for our NeS. You know, see how fun it was, how well it adjusted to difficulty, if there were any technical issues, that sort of thing. And the short of it is that we're going to go ahead with another game. Now, if you don't mind, we need to save the Arcaders now.

Vice: What are you talking about? You think you can save them by just walking away with them? What game are you talking about? Answer me!

Rachel sighs, stops, and turns around to Vice.

Rachel: It's very simple. We were here to "play" your Story Arcade game. You tempted us by providing accessible service with this system, and got us hooked. But it didn't take long to, well, tire of your game, so we found another game that better services the NeS. Better detailed, easier to handle, far less issues, that sort of thing. As soon as we return, Story Arcade will be wiped to make room for the new game. Isn't that right, everybody?

At first, the others only respond with continued confusion. After an awkward pause, Relapse clears his throat.

Relapse: Yes. We were hired as Gaming Guardians to evaluate your system with Rachel and the others, ready to assist in any official transition to another system should the situation arise, which it has.

Rachel: And part of that means "saving" some of the more important things from this system, such as Guy, as one would back up a computer file before making a system wipe.

Relapse: I better start that now.

Relapse moves to each of the Story Arcade characters, starting with K. Sa'dia Red, and proceeds to hold what appears to be an iron bar to their right temple for a few moments at a time.

Vice: You expect me to believe you're "saving" them right now?

Red: Uh--ahh! Was that weird feeling just now me being...saved?

Relapse nods his head.

Red: Hallelujah! I'm saved!

Vice: Why bother "saving" them if they aren't going to be in this "new game?"

Truevil: I don't know what you're talking about -- I'm going to be in this new game! As... the main villain!

Guy: And the two of us are, uh, a packaged good guy-bad guy set!

Lucy: I... I get to be part of my brother's team.

Otto: As the hot magic-caster! And I'm, erm, the wise drunken master martial artist of the team!

May: And I'm, er--

Rachel: --A cleric--

May: But way better than I was before!

Red: And I get to run all the shops and don't need to offer any discounts!

Vice: Fools, it doesn't matter. I know that there's no "new game" out.

The Amazing Adrian steps forward, facing Rachel.

Adrian: You're not talking about a game out now, right Rachel? You're talking about that game coming out next Tuesday that uses the, uh, new Never-ending Engine, aren't you?

Rachel: Yes. The providers told us it was called Your Story Forever. We have a friend working with them, you see.

Vice: I haven't heard anything about this game!

Bokken: Oh yeah! Now I remember! The, uh, marketing campaign for that game has been entirely word of mouth.

Tiger: I have my doubts how financially successful that'll turn out to be, but after the time spent with Story Arcade, I can't see it having much trouble competing.

Vice: And you think I'm just going to let you all run away?

Al: You wouldn't be giving us every advantage if you didn't let us run away, now would you? The other game definitely doesn't have issues like this.

Soriel: Besides, If you really wanted to stop us, you'd have done it by now. He knows if he did, he'd have no chance of the NeS still using Story Arcade.

Vice is taken aback as Rachel and the others begin walking away.

Vice: STOP! Cease and desist! You aren't the only ones who can be unreasonable too! If I go down, I'm taking you with me! And I'm bound to take ONE of you before--

Rachel: Hold on, hold on! No need to do that, sir. I think we can come to an agreement yet, if you'll hear me out. We can continue to use this system of yours, as much or as little as we choose, and NOT wipe this system and switch over to the new game IF... if you sign a binding contract to relinquish your ownership of Story Arcade over to Guy Book Smith and never to step foot in this system again.

Vice moves closer and closer to Rachel, his face stopping inches away from hers.

(NSN: See the workshop thread for my intentions of this post/story-arc.)

In true cliffhanger fashion, we step away from that developing conclusion back to the underground cavern where Sarn is once again awakening. As he rolls over and stands, his stomach growls and it occurs to him that he's not had anything to eat in as long as he can remember. He groans. Behind him, a throat is cleared. Sarn whirls around.

??: I have a theory, Sarn. Would you care to hear it?

Sarn: You. Let me out of here. I'm tired of this game.

??: I'll take that as a yes. You see, I began thinking along these lines when it occured to me, that in all your time as a hero, you've really never accomplished anything on your own. You tend to show up and take charge of a group of heroes and trumpets blare and good triumphs over evil, and yet you seem to posess no skills or talents of your own, beyond your ability to rally and lead. I wonder if you're anything more than a catalyst for others. I've noticed one other who seems to match you in this quality. The man himself, Gebohq. So I wonder, are you merely his shadow, or do you posess any capability of your own?

The man produces from somewhere two European style scabarded longswords. Sarn had somehow failed to notice them before. He leans against one, its tip resting buried an inch in the ground. The other he offers to Sarn, hilt first.

??: Perhaps a test of skill, to see if you truly posess the skills of the hero you claim to be.

Sarn takes the sword and hefts it, feeling its weight. He holds the sword in a manner of one familiar with the weapon, but severely out of practice.

??: Maybe you'd prefer a different weapon? I seem to recall you carried a dagger at one time.

Sarn draws the sword and assumes a textbook fighting stance, tossing the scabbard to the side.

Sarn: What are the stakes?

??: Simple. If I defeat you, you will be dead. Do not worry, I've seen to it that word of your demise has already reached those you care about.

Sarn: Voodoo...

??: However, if you defeat me, I will grant you your physical freedom from this place. You will still have much to accomplish to rid yourself of your debt to me entirely, but at least you will be able to walk free, in a sense.

Sarn: This is no fair competition. I've not eaten in days at least.

??: Ha. Is that what worries you? In this place, such problems are only a trifle.

The man holds up his free hand, closed into a fist. He opens it, and there is a small, white pill in the palm of his hand.

??: This pill should satisfy your hunger.

Sarn takes the pill and dry-swallows it. Sure enough, his hunger is instantly satiated.

Sarn: Nice trick. Well then, I suppose there's no point in delaying any further.

Sarn darts forward suddenly, raising the blad to strike. He swings down from overhead with all his strength, and staggers back as his strike is deflected by the man's own blade, in spite having been still in scabbard a moment before.

??: Now now, Sarn. Heroes don't cheat. Still I suppose now is as good a time as any.

The man advances as though stalking prey. Sarn assumes a defensive stance. The blades begin to whirl, seeking flesh. Steel clangs against steel, the sounds reflecting a thousand times in the cavern. The battle is sloppy, both men affected by the eneven rocky ground, but after a moment, it is clear Sarn is being beating back. One mighty strike that Sarn barely manages to deflect throws him back. Instead of pressing his advantage, the man resumes his fighting stance and chuckles.

??: It seems you know all the right moves to make. Yet you hesitate. Are you out of practice, Sarn?

Sarn: To be honest, I haven't handled a sword since Hero School. I've just never seen the need to embrace such primitave, useless weapons.

??: Primative? Some call them elegant.

Sarn uses that moment to press forward with an attack. The man is pushed back, but seems to deflect every attack easily. He chats with Sarn as they fight, unconcerned.

??: You'll not defeat me following the textbook, Sarn. I am accounted as a master with this blade, and I know all of the "tricks" you were taught in Hero School.

Sarn, concentrating on his advances, does not respond. His knowledge of swordplay does in fact extend only to what he'd read in books. He can see that his opponent is only toying with him, but he continues to press the attack.

??: You disappoint me, Sarn. I'd hoped you had hidden depths. I'd assumed there had to be some justification for Voodoo's affection. Perhaps I was mistaken.

Sarn falls back, gasping for breath. His opponent laughs again, still failing to press his advantage.

Sarn: A man like you could never understand love. Voodoo is an amazing person, and I don't pretend to know why she's fallen for me, but I will defeat you and escape if only to see her again.

??: Such dedication. I see now why Voodoo was so heart-broken to learn of your death.

Anger flashes in Sarn's eyes, and he charges forward, the sword held out in front of him. He swings the sword, but rather than seeking the flesh of his opponent, the brunt of his attack is against his enemy's sword blade. Surprised by this, the man fails to position his sword to deflect the blow, taking the full force of the attack directly. The blade is knocked from his hands. Sarn's sword is also dislodged, and both blades clatter against the ground before momentum carries them into the nearby pool. When they touch the water, both blades disappear instantly, but Sarn fails to notice this as he has his arms wrapped around his opponent, using his forward momentum to bring him to the ground. The two struggle in the dirt momentarily, and once again Sarn fails to gain the upper hand. In moments, he finds himself pinned to the ground only a foot away from the pool of water. He suddenly feels cold, sharp steel pressed against his neck. From the corner of his eye, he can make out the familiar hilt of a dagger, clutched in his opponent's hand. Sarn reaches out to the side, his fingers feeling for anything that might help him.

??: I am beginning to grow tired of this game. You have failed in your task, and now you must pay the penalty.

Muscles in his arm tense as Sarn's opponent readies himself to slice Sarn's neck. In that instant, Sarn's outstretched hand grasps a loose rock, and he swings with all his remaining strength. The rock smashes into his opponent's temple, it's momentum pushing the man away from Sarn's body and into the pool of water. Sarn rolls his own body into the water as well, and the two men grasp each other as they begin to sink. Sarn feels something passing into him from the man, and a tingling sensation settles in the back of his head. He gazes into his opponent's eyes, The Forgotten One's eyes. A smile forms on The Forgotten One's face as his body slowly disentigrates, starting from the toes and moving upward until finally, his head crumbles between Sarn's hands.

Sarn lungs begin to burn, his breath gone. Darkness surrounds him. "I'm going to die," he thinks to himself. "I've sank too far. I'll never make it back to the surface." And then suddenly, his feet hit the bottom of the pool. He looks around frantically and sees a glint of metal in the darkness. His lungs about to explode, he swims to it and scoops it up. It's the familiar dagger. As realization dawns on him, he feels a change. The tingling in the back of his head expands, until it encompasses his entire brain, and he is no longer Sarn Cadrill. But this is different. It has never happened like this before. The thoughts and motives of Kern Saldin reign, but Sarn retains a small piece of himself in the back of Kern's mind, knowing that he could regain control at will.

Kern pushes off from the floor of the pool with his legs, moving upward with incredible speed. Like a dolphin at Sea World, he breaches the surface and continues up and forward, landing gracefully in a crouch on the shore, the dagger at the ready in front of him. He is momentarily shocked to discover his is no longer in the cave. Instead his surroundings are that of a North American forest. He can hear birds whistling above him, and sounds and signs of other wildlife. Looking side to side, he finds no immediate threat. He slides the dagger into his belt, and runs off through the trees silently, intent on one thing; finding Voodoo Snowflakes.

The pause stretches on within the heart of Story Arcade. Vice scrutinizes Rachel, who in turn narrows her eyes at Vice. Just as the pause seems to snap into something worse, Vice extends a hand to Rachel.

Vice: Deal.

Rachel extends and shakes his hand when his grip tightens and pulls her close.

Vice: One condition, though.

The others jump into attack positions, but Rachel looks to each of them, and they back down some. She turns her attention back to Vice.

Rachel: Name it.

Vice: You will owe me one favor of my choosing.

She considers.

Rachel: Only if it won't harm Geb.

Vice: Of course. Deal?

Rachel: Deal.

Vice smiles and releases his grip. Their surroundings return to that of Vice's office-chamber, and Vice himself returns to his less-angelic appearance.

Vice: Red! Please write up the necessary contract as my final task for you.

K. Sa'dia Red grumbles, then moves to a nearby desk that happens to have an equipped typewriter by it. As she is typing, Relapse walks over to Rachel's side and whispers to her.

Relapse: Are you sure about this? I've seen his type before. Rule lawyers have a way of finding loopholes.

Rachel: If anything goes wrong, we can beat him again.

Relapse raises an eyebrow, to which Rachel responds with a smirk. Red, meanwhile, finishes typing the last of the contact and sets it on Vice's desk. Vice looks it over, signs it, and then turns to Rachel.

Vice: You, Guy, and I will sign here, and the rest of you will sign as witnesses here. Full names, please.

One by one, each of them looks over the contract with more or less detail and signs it. Vice then magically copies the contract, folds the copy and pockets it. He then presses what appears to be an intercom button.

Vice: Brothers, leave Story Arcade immediately and rendezvous at Point Beta.

Vice releases the button and turns to Rachel and the others.

Vice: Until next time, then.

He walks past the others and outside the room around a corner. When Adrian and Soriel follow, they see no sign of him. Lucy wastes no time in hugging her brother, Guy, as they hold the original contract, then turns to everyone.

Lucy: Thank you, everyone, for your help.

The rest of the Story Arcade residents express their own non-verbal gratitude.

Bokken: OK, just so I'm on the right page here, there really was no other game, right? We just made that up?

Rachel: Yes, Bokken. I'm glad it could be spelled out for you.

The Story Arcade residents make their way out of the room and back down the stairs.

Tiger: So I suppose this is where we part ways?

Adrian: We really should be getting back, to make sure Geb is OK.

Rachel: Yes. Thank you for your help, Guardians.

Rachel hands Relapse the Plot Device Finder.

Rachel: You know where to find us, should you stop by. Al, if you would.

Al: Actually, I'm rather not, as I'm trying to break from my need to powerplay--

Rachel: -- and I'd rather not have to murder someone for making things difficult.

Soriel: I'd like to see that.

Al: Uh, right then, everyone hold tight!

Rachel, Soriel, Bokken Monkey, and Al Ciao teleport out of Story Arcade...

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

...and back into the Haunted House of Heroes. Rachel, wasting no time of her own, rushes to where Gebohq is held in suspended animation and shuts down the equipment holding him in place without thinking. Fortunately, Gebohq appears to be fine, even if he's seen better days. Rachel holds him in her arms as he wakes up.

Gebohq: Wh...what happened?

Rachel: Nothing, dear. You just needed a rest. It's good to see you again.

She nearly cries as she leans her head to the side of Gebohq's. He smiles dreamily for a moment, with the whole of the NeS darkening, before a sobering wave washes over him. He holds Rachel away from him.

Gebohq: We need to talk. But first... I need some water.

Gebohq tries to stand up when Rachel stops him.

Rachel: Let me get some for you. You just sit down.

She runs off for a while as Gebohq sits down, rubbing his neck and breathing noticeably. As she returns with a glass of water, he takes a prescription bottle from his pocket and taps one pill into his hand. She looks at him worried as he drinks the pill down.

Gebohq: I'm supposed to take these for my depression, that's all.

He looks at Rachel, but words fail to escape from his mouth. He takes a moment to pop a few more pills. He takes a deep breath and turns to her again.

Gebohq: Rachel. My love. I...

Rachel smiles, and Gebohq looks down at his hands. She covers his hand with her own, but he gently moves it aside. He then begins to take the engagement ring off his hand. She looks at Gebohq, her face attempting to unravel a Gordian knot.

Gebohq: I can't be with you, Rachel. ...I'm sorry.

She looks at his engagement ring as he places it on the table.

Rachel: Oh. Of course. If only our love wasn't forbidden by the NeS, we could--

Gebohq: No.

Her romantic gaze drops. She focuses on the engagement ring.

Gebohq: I... I can't put myself before others and--and I can't love someone who does the same. It's not who I am.

Rachel: What are you then, a coward? You were better with me--

She clenches her fist, shaking in resistance of saying more. Gebohq places his hand over her fist.

Gebohq: Yes, I know.

The two look into each other's eyes--

--when Soriel and the others enter. Rachel pulls away and stands up. Her face shows no sign of sadness as she places her hands on her hips.

Soriel: Sorry we took so long, I had to give Bokken a beating for before.

Al: We're not interrupting anything, are we?

Rachel: Of course not! I was just off to verify my status as Protector of the Plotfractal so that I could make Geb's life a never-ending PAIN IN THE *** BY MY HANDS SO THAT HE'LL WISH FOR DEATH!

Everybody stares wide-eyed at Rachel.

Gebohq: I, uh... have to do my taxes bye.

And then he promptly gebs it. Rachel turns innocently to Soriel and the others and smiles.

Rachel: I really must be going now, so OH NO IS THAT VICE?!

Soriel, Al and the others turn around momentarily, and when they turn back around, Rachel is nowhere to be found.

Al: I suppose Hell hath no fury like a woman--

Soriel: Don't finish that, or help me, Rachel won't be the only one going psycho.

Al: Right then.

Britt the Writer: "..."

Gebohq the Writer: "You're not really upset, are you?"

Britt the Writer: *nod nod nod*

Gebohq the Writer: "Well, you know she's still around, right? You can still write her!"

Britt the Writer: "But... it won't be the same!" *weeps*

Tracer the Writer: "Uh... I'm not interrupting, am I?"

Gebohq the Writer: "He's just upset because he's used to having Rachel as his main PoV..."

------

The remaining NeS heroes were having some downtime now that they had saved the world from Vice. All two of them. Gebohq was in permanent hiding and Bokken had gone off to pursue a career travel writing (in which he would perform rather well, selling hundreds of copies of his travels around the Stronghold of Starkness, in which he makes travel tips concerning dragons, comments on all the best restaurants (which is, admittedly, a rather short sentence reading; bugger all.), and all the fun activities one can do in such a stark place.). This left Soriel and Al Ciao to spend some quality time together.

Soriel: "... and then I chopped his head off."

Al Ciao remained traumatised.

Fred: "I'm fed up. I can't believe all the women left. Even that Tomboy would be nice right about now! Let's go find some new ones! [/color]

Soriel: "Well, come to think of it, I suppose we could try and find the rest of this hero team... most of whom I don't think I've actually met yet."

Al Ciao: "Seems to be one of those teams, you know? Constant comings and goings. Who knows, we might not even be here in a few months."

Soriel: "Meh. I haven't got anything better to do any more. Besides, I figured out that I only really exist here. All the things I told you about my past-"

Al Ciao shudders.

Soriel: "-never really happened. I mean... they happened but they didn't really... happen."

Al Ciao: "Uh..."

Soriel: "It was all back story. Just additional stuff to make me more in-depth. I only exist so long as I am a cast member of the NeS. If I fall out of it then I will cease to exist until I am written back in again. Whatever happens to me during that time won't really have happened. It will be written in. You see?"

Al Ciao: "You're thinking way too much about this. Trust me. I've done a lot of thinking about the metaphysics myself. Or, rather, my alter ego did. Who is me. I think."

Soriel: "You know, Gebohq's in a pretty weak state right now..."

Al Ciao: "You mean because he broke up with Rachel?"

Soriel: "No. I'm talking about NeS mechanics. All the other heroes are off on their own adventure somewhere. Saving the day. Our main hero has just spent an entire story arc out of it. He might be back now, but his stature has diminished. He's being rather unheroic, boring and... dull. He status as central character is at it's lowest ebb, you see?"

Al Ciao: "I suppose that's right! Someone else could be in a position to take over his role!"

They stare at one another for a long second, weighing up the competition.

Soriel: "Nah, wouldn't work. Even if Gebohq is on the down-and-out one of those lot having the adventures would get it, not us."

Al Ciao: "Besides, it's hard to be a power-player when you're the main character. Main characters are all about over-coming real trials and tribulations. A power-player only overcomes inconveniences."

Soriel: "I suppose he could be a victim to a villainous plot right now though."

Al Ciao: "Good point..."

-----

Gebohq lay on his bed. His room seemed even more silent than it ever had before. He questioned his decision. Rachel had risked her life to save his. She had devoted herself to him without hesitation. Did she really deserve to be cast aside? He wanted to ensure he wasn't being selfish and putting himself before others, but by dumping Rachel wasn't he being selfish and not considering her feelings? He was confusing himself. But self-doubt was a staple for any hero.

The shadows seemed to ripple, unnoticed by our depressed hero. A figure pulled out of the wall, a shadow taking corporeal form. The image was unclear to begin with, gradually taking shape and colour. Nyneve licked her fingers. She could taste the ink-blood in the air. The sweat. The tears. The angst. Gebohq could have been in a teenager's novel he was so potent.

She glided across the floor without a sound and approached Gebohq's back, which faced out from his bed. He head was pushed firmly against his white pillow as though he were trying to block out the world around him. Perfect.

Nyneve traced a finger along his prone form, not quite touching him but close enough to sense a physical presence. It was tantalising. She ran the same fingers over her tongue. Finger-lickin' good.

Her teeth extended and her saliva built-up in anticipation. She craned her neck down towards her victim...

Soriel: "Yo, Geb."

The door burst open.

Nyneve disappeared long before either Soriel or Al Ciao could spot her. She watched them from the shadows. They didn't have ink-blood but the taint of ink was upon them. Characters. They could provide a pleasant meal should she catch them alone, but the prize was the ink-blood himself. She would wait. And watch.

Soriel: "Hey, are you alive?"

Gebohq: "I think so."

Soriel: "Oh right. No one tried to kill you?"

Gebohq: "Not that I know of."

Soriel: "Well, listen, me an Al have been talking..."

Gebohq: "Mutiny is it?"

Soriel and Al Ciao exchange puzzled glances.

Soriel: "Uh... no. Sort of. Anyway. We figured that, since we're stuck here and the rest of the heroes are off adventuring, we need to re-establish you as the main character."

Gebohq: "Why?"

Al Ciao: "So that we get to be the main cast! If we're with the main character, we're part of the main character's crew! Ultimately everything else is your background. So. We're going to try and kill you."

Gebohq shot up and stared at the insane pair.

Gebohq: "What!?"

Al Ciao: "Well if we try to kill you it'll be all dramatic and put you in the limelight! So you'll be established again and we can be the main crew."

Gebohq: "You've got to be joking..."

Fortunately for Gebohq that had just happened and he was, as of now, firmly established as our main hero and character.

Gebohq: "Uh... it did?"

Aye! Conveniently you didn't hear anything I said during that time to ensure an element of mystery and rather apt horror. However you get to hear me now so that you don't get murdered by your friends, who are much more powerful than you'll ever be.

Gebohq: "Hey, I resent that!"

Soriel: "Yeah, me too!"

Gebohq: "You do?"

Soriel: "Of course! I barely know you! How can you be my friend so quick?"

Al Ciao: "I think it comes with the gig, to be honest."

Soriel: "Oh right. Does this mean there's no killing then?"

Al Ciao: "Aye."

Soriel looked despondent.

Gebohq: "Hey! Don't look so... des... despon... disappointed!"

Soriel: "Sorry, it's just... you know... you build yourself up for something, get all excited and then you get let down. I'm just a bit bummed."

Gebohq: "Uh... right."

Soriel: "Could I at least just... hack at you a little bit? Maybe a few limbs?"

Gebohq: "NO!"

Al Ciao: "Besides, we were only going to try to attack him. Not actually follow through with it! Then he'd be dead and we'd have no main character."

Soriel: "Oh yeah. Forgot that part. Got a bit carried away, I guess."

Gebohq: "You guess?"

Meanwhile, within the happiest place on Earth, Nick, the son of Ares and a demigod of peace, holds two armies at bay.

Nick: Anybody going to try and pick a fight with a warrior of peace then?

General Qhobeg: What are you going to do? Just stand in the middle and take a beating to keep us from fighting each other?

Nick: If I must.

Gen. Qhobeg: Well that's annoying.

Doctor Geb: There's got to be a way to deal with this. I should be able to figure it out -- I wrote my PhD thesis on the NeS, after all.

Gen. Qhobeg: Why don't you just summon some forces from NeShattered?

Dr. Geb: What? I'm not that Geb!

Gen. Qhobeg: You're not? Then why do you have his name?

Dr. Geb: OK, one, he has MY name! I've been around way longer than he has, and it's not my fault if I prefer to go by my nickname. It's bad enough I get people thinking it's my last name. Two, my name is pronounced differently. I'm Doctor Gehb-eel and he's just Gehb-ill. And three--

Gen. Qhobeg: Yeah, I don't care anymore. Let's just fight already. This Nick guy can't stop it all, and you'll be easier to beat than the weakest of nerds.

Dr. Geb: We'll see about that, meat-head.

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

Elsewhere, in a familiar KGB Siberian bunker...

Masked KGB Agent: It is fortunate that the anomaly that had plagued our facility is no longer present.

Nikki: It's also fortunate that the KGB is still in operation so long after the official fall of our Soviet Union.

Masked KGB Agent: Yes, well the Soviet Union will come back stronger than ever once the world sees The Next True Evil in action!

Nikki: Do you think it will really be enough, though?

Masked KGB Agent: Well, maybe tinkering with that young woman's DNA and throwing that in the mix won't hurt our chances either...

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

In the cellar of a French kitchen in Paris, Nyneve returns once more to the random Gebohq clone that she has tied up and injected with an IV unit.

Nyneve: I was so close!

Plan C Qhobeg: To be or not to be...

Nyneve: And you're spouting the most phoned-in of narrative. You're going to be a pretty terrible-tasting Plan C at this rate.

Nyneve switches the projector over to the collective works of Stanley Kubrick before exiting once more...

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

Scene swipe to high above the Earth, on Hero Force One's sweet space station, Dr. R. Deep, Seraphim and Hero Force One's Qhobeg stand together, looking into a sealed chamber containing the Fifty States of the Patriot...

HFO Qhobeg: Between our knowledge of the story, the arcane, and the divine, it's troubling that we still haven't figured out how to recombine the Patriot back to his former self.

Dr. R. Deep: We may need that tool that cleaved him in the first place after all.

Seraphim: I don't know, I think I like him better this way...

Patriot #23: I call the name Texas Patriot!

Patriot #21: Awww, but I want to be Texas Patriot!

Patriot #27: We can't all be Texas! Besides, you look more like a Vermont...

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

Back down in the depths of Hell...

Assistant: Mr. Seven?

Jim Seven: What? Can't you see I'm busy?

Assistant: I just wanted to know what you wanted to do with the space open since you released all of the Qhobegs you cloned from Gebohq out into the world.

Jim Seven: I told you, that's where I want the expansion for the water park portion of the theme park to be constructed.

Assistant: Of course, sir. I'll have them get on that right away.

(NSN: Whee, I'm forseeing the Qhobegs being the TLTE clones of NeSquared! I just wanted to throw in my two cents on the stuff Ben introduced a while back...)

But right then in the Haunted House of Heroes, our heroes analysis of Gebohq’s heroism and Soriel’s lack of heroism is interrupted by the door to the room they’re in being kicked down. The kicking was done by none other than...

Id: ID SAVE PUNNY WHITE MAN!

Yes, it is none other than gothic Sup, hulking Id, and the gorilla JMX01; all of whom have appeared to come to the eighth dimension in order to revive Gebohq following the advice of JM the Writer.

Sup: First things I’m not Goth. Second, we appear to be too late.

Id: Id no save?

Sup: Oh no. Be my guest. Save the man whose standing right there looking perfectly find and healthy.

Id: ID SAVE!

And with that Id starts chasing after Gebohq, while Gebohq in returns starts gebbing it around the room since no one wants to receive the Heimlich maneuver from someone with the with the strength and intelligence of the incredible hulk.

JMX01: One would think you would have learned not to use sarcasm on him by now.

Id: Are you implying that wasn’t the reaction I planned for?

Al: Excuse me...

With Geb occupied, Al Ciao approaches the walking super ego and gorilla as the most senior reasonable hero.

Soriel: Senior? What am I, chopped liver.

Emphasis on reasonable.

Soriel: Hmmph...

Al: ...and moving right along, who exactly are you three and why are you here?

Sup: Who we are is something that would take more time to explain then the writer is willing to script. What we are doing here is attempting to revive Gebohq in order to draw enough of a crowd in order to have a climactic battle with Id and me’s counterpart: the Incalculable Ego.

JMX01: Yes, but if this Geb is already revived... then where is everyone?

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

Where indeed. Zooming away out of the Haunted House of Heroes, and out of the eighth dimension altogether, we find ourselves at Chris’s Chiken Hut. Fully repaired by the self aware kitchen appliance while the team was away at Disney World, the fast food restaurant serves as an impromptu meeting room for those too lazy to cross over to the eighth dimension… which honestly includes most of our heroes aside from Maybe and Ante.

And what are Ante and Maybe doing if they actually have the drive to return to the Haunted House of Heroes? Well Ante is finishing up a power point presentation demonstrating exactly why they shouldn’t do just that.

Ante: So as you can see, in order to cement Maybe’s rule as leader of the team, she should lead the team on at least one mission before we reunite the team with Geb.

Maybe: I don’t know. Geb is comatose at last we checked. It would only be heroic if we didn’t check on him every once in awhile.

Ante: Ah, yes, but it also wouldn’t be heroic if we let the world burn to the ground just because we where worrying about him. We should trust our friends to take care of themselves from time to time.

Ford: Geb, take care of himself?

Ante: Yes.

Voodoo: While he’s unconscious?

Ante: Unconscious in a tube with built in life support.

MZZT: That needs maintenance.

Ante: Come one MZZT, don’t you have confidence in your own manufacturing?

Otter: Give it a rest mate. We all can see where you’re going with this.

The group collectively stares at The Otter.

Otter: Well come on. The bloke obviously doesn’t want us to save Geb, probably for some connived reason like it being detrimental for the NeS to have a core central character. Though come to think of it, why are we listening to you? You’ve displayed a unreasonable pattern of wanting to disband us as a hero group (p)ages now.

The group shift their collective stare to Antestarr.

Ante: Funny you should mention that. My next presentation was going to be on why we should disband again, but I can always adlib on plotfractural reasons why Fredrick J Otter should stay an alcoholic.

Maybe: That won’t be necessary. I’ve heard enough.

Ante: ...and?

Maybe: I agree that we shouldn’t return to the Haunted House of Heroes...

Everyone raises an eyebrow as Ante does a small victory dance.

Maybe: ...but should instead set up shop again here in the real world.

Antestarr stops mid pose and does a double take at Maybe.

Maybe: The Eighth Dimension is honestly a horrible location for a group of heroes to operate out of. We should instead focus on setting up a base of operations down here on earth. Possibly more then one eventually, but we’ll start right here. MZZT, Chris? Start getting this place up to hero standards.

MZZTs and Chris rush off to the kitchen to get started.

Maybe: But we shouldn’t give up on the Haunted House of Heroes since it makes the ultimate fall back base. Ford? Take Voodoo and go check up on Young and Gebohq. And do some scrying for Sarn while you have access to all your tools.

Ford and Maybe rush out to the parking lot to find a good back alley for Ford to conjure a portal to the eighth dimension.

Maybe: And Ante, you seem to intent on the group not being heroes. So why don’t you go and find something that doesn’t requires the groups attention.

Ante glares slightly at Maybe and Otter as he walks away, not quite sure exactly how he can twist the orders into something that will help him get his way. The Otter, meanwhile, moves in closer to Maybe.

Maybe: Have a ever told you you’re hot when you take command like that?

Maybe sly pushes Otter away to a nonprovocative distance while at the same time keeping a firm grip on his hand.

Maybe: Keep it in your pants. I want to get to know the new sober Fredrick J Otter before I make any commitments.

Otter: You sure? I’ve been sloshed to the point of my blood being 300 proof… it’s a Vulcan Flame thing. Point is, I may not be buzzed but I’m still a few days away from sober.

Maybe: Well, I’ll just have to keep close to you to make sure you don’t relapse when the hangover hits. Now come on. We’re checking the news blogs. See what Doctor Evil and Hero Force One are doing, come up with some leads in case Antestarr manages to corrupt his orders. Maybe try to figure out where Ben’s gotten off too.

And so Maybe and the Otter walk off to the local library, hand in hand.
------------

Zooming back to the Haunted House of Heroes, we find that Geb has finally managed to tire out the hulking Id, who now lies exhausted on the floor. Geb, meanwhile, rejoins the group.

Gebohq: So, what did I miss?

Soriel: We were discussing how you suck.

Sup: Blunt, but accurate. Being out of commission for so long appears to have damaged your position in the Plotfractural. There should be more people here.

Al: Is it really that surprising? Subplots happen all the time. It’s probably a good thing the writers didn’t want to cause plot holes just to make them all show up here out of the blue.

Sup: But that’s just it, not all the heroes are occupied. I can sense Young and at least two other Characters sleeping upstairs. Gebohq’s reawakening should have awakened them through plot conventions alone. Something else is going on here, and it’s complicating my plans. ...I don’t like it.

Benjamin the Writer: *cough*

Sup: Oh, right, before I forget.

Sup walks over to Id and reaches into the hulk’s pockets. Out he pulls a sleeping brown rat. Walking over to the heroes, he deposites the rat into Al Ciao’s hands.

Sup: This is Ben. He’s one of you guys... and by that I mean a Character. He’s still in denial about the whole being in a story deal, so keep the meta story conversations to a minimum when he wake up.

Benjaming the Writer: *coughcough*

Sup: ...oh, and pants. He’s going to need some pants if you want him to resume human form as well.

Will Geb ever reassume his rightful place in the center of the story, or will it be usurped by one of the many clones running around? Will Antestarr succeed in his goals, or will he realize in time that the ends don’t always justify the means? And what of Ben? Will the newest hero be accepted by some of the oldest heroes of the NeS, and will they help him realize finally that this is a story? Find out this and a bunch of stuff that the other writers will probably curve ball us with in another installment of the Neverending Story Squared!

We rejoin CM and gang, who now includes some mysterious people from another future!

Wai: Our first plan of action should be to locate the test facility for the fission reactor.

Mimiru *hanging up her cell*: Already have a team on that. They said it's somewhere in Nevada, we'll get more specific information on the way.

Michael: Nevada? That's another US state, wasn't it?

Yukari: You're the walking encyclopedia, don't ask me.

Subaru: Yes, it is.

Mimiru: I already have a private jet on its way to pick us up.

Sienna: A private jet? What's that?

CM: Uh, an airplane? Duh?

Jon: No way! You have working aircraft?

CM: Of course we do! Don't you guys?

Jon: Hell no! Airplanes were far too fuel inefficient. Our lift systems weren't capable of providing the sort of forward thrust that flying requires.

Sienna: Uhm, Jon, maybe you shouldn't tell them about our technology. It could effect our future after all...

CM: You mean like one of those Back to the Future scenarios? Awesome!

Sienna: I have no idea what that is, but based on your girlfriend's intense eye roll, I'm going to say no.

Mimiru: Actually, we're married.

Sienna: Oh? I'm sorry! I didn't notice the rings. You seem so young...

CM: Yeah, we were married out of the womb.

Mimiru kicks CM in the back of the leg, causing him to falter.

Mimiru: Anyway, let's head out, the jet should be here soon.

Just then, a tremendous roar was heard above the building. The deafening sound continued as they reached the door and opened it, revealing the jet in its landing procedures.

Mimiru: A bit late, but it is a difficult landing to make. Forgivable, I guess.

Subaru: You work them way too hard, you know.

Mimiru: It's hardly like they're not reimbursed.

The jet opened its doors, and everyone climbed aboard. The future gang took a small tour of the cabin, marveling in the cleanliness, the homeliness, and the simple power the engines showed.

After takeoff, Mimiru received further directions as to the exactly location of the fission testing facility.

Wai: Okay, so we have the coordinates, do we have a plan?

Jon: We should just blow the whole thing up.

Yukari: You think we should blow everything up.

CM: I'm not soft to the idea.

CM and Jon high-fived eachother without a second thought.

Mimiru: You act like you've known Jon for ages.

CM: We think on the same wavelength.

Mimiru: Wonderful, now there's two idiots.

Sienna: My thoughts exactly.

Mockingly, Mimiru and Sienna also high-fived eachother. Anna squeezed Sienna's arm and giggled.

Wai: Do you guys have any information on how the fission reactor failed? Perhaps we could tweak the design so that it doesn't happen?

Michael: We have working, safe fission reactors now, but I do not have the necessary schematics or knowledge to make the changes.

Wai: Then we need to sabotage the system. Force it to never function.

Jon: Like I said, blow it up!

Yukari: Damnit Jon, blowing it up would just make it look like some sort of attack. They'd rebuild! We need to make it look like a fault in the fission system itself.

Wai: Precisely.

Mimiru took over from there, displaying an intricate layout of the facility. They would need to land outside the perimeter, and come in through a thermal exhaust port. If they successfully make it inside, they would need to reach the lower level control station, where the computer terminals resided.

After some long deliberation over the details, they settled on the plan, and got to talking about eachother.

Michael: So, Wai, you made that portal device? How did you do that?

Wai: Portal technology was a trademark technology of the world I used to live in. I don't know much about my past life in that world, but occasionally I remember things. The portal device was one of them. Unfortunately, it's not perfected, as you can tell. I had no intention of connecting our world to your world.

Michael: Still, you built something that advanced?

Wai: Not terribly difficult for an android.

Jon: No way! You're an android?

Wai: Yes, wai, I am. Why?

Michael: I am too, in a fashion. My brain is human, taken from my old body. Everything else is robotic.

CM: Woh, like Darth Vader?

Mimiru: Shut up, CM.

CM: Sorry... do you have any cool powers? Like force choke?

Mimiru once again kicked CM, this time in the shin.

CM: Ow! Stop that!

Michael: It's alright. I don't have this "force choke" or whatever that is, but I have the usual benefits of a robotic body. Namely, better reaction time, more accuracy, better senses, and strength.

Yukari: Speaking of powers though, each of us have our own abilities.

Mimiru: Really? We've got some talents as well.

Michael: Talents? No, we mean something quite a bit more. Jon, perhaps it would be easiest for you to show yours.

Jon: Alright!

Jon grabbed a pen off the table in front of them. His hand began to glow slightly, and the pen melted into a solid piece of plastic.

Jon: I can do much more than this, but you get the idea.

CM: That's awesome! Are you like, just melting it or something?

Jon: No, I can manipulate non-organic matter on the molecular level.

CM: You could be rich with that, you could make gold!

Jon: No, that's the atomic level. I can form molecular bonds and break them, returning matter to its basic atomic states. But I can't change one atom into another. Those bonds are too strong.

CM: Aw, too bad. That'd be useful.

Subaru: So what are the rest of your powers?

Jon looked at Yukari, and she nodded.

Yukari: Mine is superhuman speed. I can run at upwards of 80mph depending on the situation, but it wears me out quickly.

Yukari tapped Sienna on the shoulder.

Sienna: Mine is like Jon's, except I affect organic matter on the cellular level. Usually, this allows me to rapidly boost someone's own ability to heal themselves, as well as a few other things.

Subaru: That's interesting. I share a similar ability, although I don't know how it works. I can heal almost any wound, given the time and energy to do it.

Jon: Wait, you guys have powers too?

Wai: Yes, they do. CM here specializes in various magic abilities, including fire based attacks and teleportation. Mimiru has similar abilities, although weaker. She centers on her natural skills with swordfighting, mixing the magic in where appropriate.

Mimiru: I can't teleport though. My attacks aren't nearly as focused as CM's.

CM: Yeah, but you look beautiful dancing around with that sword...

Subaru rolled her eyes as Mimiru gave CM a peck on the cheek.

Anna: Hey! I have a power too!

Mimiru: Oh, I'm sorry! What's yours?

Anna: I can read emotions and feelings!

Mimiru: Really? Wow!

Michael: Yes, she has the most interesting talent of us all, I believe. It's saved us quite a few times.

Anna beamed with the compliment, and grabbed Sienna's shoulder.

Mimiru: So, you're not her mother... what is she doing with you all?

Anna: They rescued me, my dad is dead, and my mom... I don't know where she is.

Subaru: Oh my gosh, that's awful. I'm sorry honey!

Anna: It's okay. Sienna's been very nice to me, and the others really care for me.

Subaru: I'm glad. It's good that you guys look after her like that.

Yukari: We don't have much of a choice. She wouldn't let us leave her with the refugee camp even if we wanted to.

Wai: Refugee camp?

Yukari: That's where we lived, back in our world. It's the exiled population from the survivor dome. It's a long story.

The group then went silent, as the pilot spoke over the intercom to alert them that they were approaching their destination and beginning to descend.

CM: Looks like it's time to party!

To be continued in Part 2: Why never to do a crossover story.

Back at the Haunted House of Heroes...

Gebohq: So, uh, why don't the rest of you make yourselves at home for now while me and-- what's your name again?

Al: Al Ciao, but you--

Gebohq: --while me and Al help our rat friend Mr. Ben with finding some clothes and whatnot. There's probably still stuff in the kitchen if any of you are hungry.

Sup, Id, Soriel, and JMX01 look at each other, shrug, and shuffle away, presumably to the kitchen. Gebohq motions a Ben-holding Al to follow him, presumably to another part of the Haunted House of Heroes that might have some spare clothes.

Gebohq: I figure I'll wait until this Ben guy is awake and whatnot before filling you two in on what the new guys need to know. I have to say, though, you seem to fit in pretty well, Al, moreso than I usually see.

Al: That's because I already know you and most the others, Geb.

Gebohq: You do? Have you been watching us or something?

Al: No, Geb. Don't I look familiar to you?

Gebohq scrutinizes Al for a moment.

Gebohq: Did we go to high school together?

Al: I might as well just tell you -- I'm Highemperor. Or was, anyway.

Gebohq: Was?

Al: It's a long story. I'll tell you about it some other time.

Gebohq: I see. Well... good to see you again, Highemp!

Al: Please, call me Al.

Gebohq: OK, Al it is. Ah! Here we go.

Gebohq opens a random, unused bedroom and enters with Al following behind. Gebohq starts opening dresser drawers, tossing an array of variously out-dated trousers and shirts.

Gebohq: What size do you think this Ben guy is, High--er--Al? As a human, I mean.

Al: Well he's a 5'2", athletically-built guy, so-- gah!

Gebohq: What's wrong?

Al: I've been trying not to powerplay since we last met, but sometimes I still find myself doing it without realizing it even.

Gebohq: Ah.

Al: Why don't we just wake the guy up and let him pick out his own stuff?

Gebohq: Alright. Uh...

He pokes at Ben, who remains asleep in his rat form in Al's arms.

Al: Why don't you try wielding the story to wake him up?

Gebohq: I'm not some sort of magician who can bend reality at his will just like that--

As Gebohq snaps his fingers to emphasis his point, Ben jumps from Al's arms in alarm and scurries under the bed.

Al: Ow, I think that left some claw marks...

Gebohq: Hey, Ben! Sorry man, didn't mean to startle you there. We're friends. We ain't gonna hurt you. Some guys came and brought you here. I figure you'd like to be awake to pick out your own clothes.

Ben's head peeks out from below and looks up at Gebohq.

Gebohq: I threw some stuff on the bed. Sorry we don't got more. We could stop at a Heroes 'R' Us or Ultimates Unlimited and see if they have some shapeshifter slacks for sale later, if you want.

A moment passes. Ben looks to his sides, then crawls up onto the bed, swimming through the various atrocities against fashion before chomping on a pair of shorts and scampering behind the bed. Another moment passes as Gebohq and Al look at each other. When Ben appears again, he is in human form and wearing the pair of shorts.

Ben: I don't know why you've done all this, but for some reason, you've put me at ease, which I haven't felt in some time. Thank you, sir.

Gebohq: No problem, Ben. I'm a good guy, after all.

Al: And story convention with his character dictates Gebohq here to be kind to a fault anyway.

Ben: Oh no, not this again...

Gebohq: Not what again?

Ben: ...nothing. I'm grateful for your help, and I'll be sure to return the favor and be of any assistance you may wish of me.

Gebohq: Favor-shmavor. We should hit the kitchen when you're ready, I'm starving.

Ben: Must learn to not pay attention to their insane story-babble they live their lives by. Everyone has their faults...

Al: What was that you said?

Ben: Huh? Oh, just, uh, worrying if this place was built on any fault lines. Had a bad experience with an earthquake once.

Al: I see. Well, I think you'll have more to worry about than earthquakes. We don't call this place the Haunted House of Heroes for nothing.

Ben: How comforting...

(NSN: Ben is awake and mastering the art of denial for now, check.)

Upon the Hero Force One's Space station...

Judge: "Well, Britain hasn't been this much bigger than America since the Empire!"

The Patriot States turned and glowered at the tall, slinky woman.

Judge: "Haha, come on lads! It was a joke! Now, it's bath time. Come on, all of you! I want scrubbed faces and hands especially! And don't forget behind the ears!"

Seraphim: "I didn't know you had British Nanny training..."

Judge: "Aye! I got a first! Now, chop, chop boys! Or there'll be no supper!"

------

Elsewhere, however, the tension upon the battlefield was growing. The forces of Jim 7 faced off against the military might of Disney World with Nick stood in the middle. The commanders of either side were becoming restless and annoyed, prepared to simply run around Nick the Roadblock.

Nick: "I won't get you all but I'll bloody well give it a go. Really want to risk that?"

General Quobeg: "Look, I've got my orders. If you've a problem with them, then you need to take it up with Jim 7."

Doctor Gebiyl: "And I'm not about to stand idle and let them trump on into Disney World. I have to defend it."

Nick: "I don't care about your excuses, I have my job to do too. As God of Peace."

Doctor Gebiyl: "You know, that's a really stupid outlook. You obtain peace by beating someone into submission. That's not peace, that's dominance."

Nick: "Look at it however you like, I'll still kick your arse."

Then, just as it seems the Doctor and General would ignore Nick's warning, there was a new flash of light as yet another god appeared on the scene. Or rather, a goddess.

Aphrodite: "Nicholas!"

Nick: "Ah bollocks..."

She was beautiful. Not just in an earth-bound, mortal fashion of beauty. She was beautiful in a heavenly, unreal fashion. She was every man's (and certain women's) fantasy. She would have given the sexy heroines of Hero Force One a run for their money...

----

Seraphim: "Wow, my ears just starting burning..."

Judge: "Weird, mine too! I hope it isn't infectious..."

----

Aphrodite: "Your father will not be pleased, you know?"

Nick: "But mum, I'm-!"

Aphrodite: "I don't want to hear it. It's hard enough for me and your father without you running around stopping good, old-fashioned blood-lust. Zeus will be most displeased."

Nick: "Grandfather? You won't tell him, will you?"

Aphrodite: "No. So long as you come along and leave these fine gentlemen to hack one another to pieces. Besides, I have an appointment with Adonis, which I really don't want to miss!"

Nick: "Mother!"

Aphrodite: "What? Even mothers have-"

Nick: "Okay, okay, I'm coming. Please don't finish that sentence."

With that Aphrodite removed her wayward son from the battlefield. The gentlemen gathered stood gawking at the spot where Aphrodite had once stood. This lasted a fair while until, finally, General Quobeg managed to come to his senses...

General Quobeg: "I think... I think we should do this tomorrow instead. We could all do with a cold shower, methinks."

Doctor Gebiyl: "Agreed. We'll still be here tomorrow."

With that, each gave their orders to depart and clear the field of battle until tomorrow, and scurried off to their tents.

-----

For once, Ares was not holding a tournament in his coliseum. Instead he was in one of his many temples, holding a war conference with several of his fellow gods.

Ares: "If he shows up, we just rush him. Kick his head in."

Athena: "No, brother-"

Ares: "Half-brother."

Athena: "Brother, you need more tact. Listen to me, I'm the Goddess of tactical warfare and wisdom. You're not even the god of war, just the God of Blood-lust."

Ares: "War!"

Athena: "Whatever, keep deluding yourself. I'll let you pretend for now-"

Enyo: "Look, stop bickering. That's not even fighting, it's just annoying. Besides I'm the Goddess of War."

Athena: "Stupid war. Like him. All blood and anger. If you want to win, follow my plans."

Eris: "We don't even know if he's really going to try and kill Ares anyway."

Athena: "Ares, tell your harlots to be silent."

Ares: "Companions."

Athena: "Whatever. They're your sisters and you sleep with them. I'll call them whatever I bloody well like."

Ares: "Oh, come on. We're Greek Gods! We're all in-bred. Dad's been with gods knows how many women-"

Everyone groaned at Ares 'joke'

Ares: "-and how many children? It's what we do."

Athena didn't appear impressed.

Ares: "Fine, we'll do it your way. Set-up your defences. I hope they keep this DarkEgo out. Or whatever he's called now. These story characters are even more confusing than us gods."

Enyo: "I wouldn't go that far."

Ares: "Fine. Almost as confusing. Now, can I go hold some tournaments now?"

Athena: "Yes, yes. Take your harlots with you."

Eris & Enyo: "Companions."

Nick and Aphrodite appeared in a great flash of blinding light. Or, at least, it's blinding to mere mortals. To gods, on the other hand, it looked as though they had simply stepped off of a rather crowded underground train. Which was why there was a great flash when they appeared before mortals, had to be impressive and infinitely more dignified.

Aphrodite: "Keep a better eye on your son, Ares!"

Ares: "Our!"

Aphrodite: "Whatever. I caught him trying to stop battles!"

There was a gasp throughout the room. Even Athena, who was slightly more sane than the rest, was aghast. Nick shuffled his feet with shame.

Ares: "War is a part of a god's duty, son. Looks like we'll have to have that conversation..."

Aphrodite: "A conversation that you should have had many years ago. He's already almost three thousand years old!"

Ares: "Fine fine. I'm going to do it now! Why don't you get back to your husband!?"

There was much snickering from the crowd behind them. Aphrodite took on an air of superiority, rising above the shame of her illicit affair with Ares.

Aphrodite: "Actually, I'm off to meet Adonis."

Athena: "Isn't that the bloke who was born from incest? Father-Daughter incest at that..."

Enyo: "This obsession you have with incest isn't healthy..."

Athena: "What? No! You're all obsessed, I'm repulsed!"

Eris: "You're the one going on about it all the time!"

Aphrodite: "Can I go now? Look after Nick, okay?"

Nick had attempted to block out all thoughts of incest and godly duties. He was beginning to wonder if he would have mental issues when he got older. Unfortunately, like most depressed city-bound, miserable teenagers, Nick couldn't slit his wrists or throw himself off bridges. God-hood deprived him of that.

Aphrodite pushed her way back onto the train, elbowing invisible entities as she tried to ensure she got a spot away from the doors. She waved at her son as she disappeared.

Enyo: "Actually, wasn't it Aphrodite who convinced that girl to sleep with her father in the first place?"

Eris: "The little schemer! All that so she could have a toy boy!"

Nick's eyes stared, wide and horrified, at the floor.

-----

Soriel: "Careful you don't burn it."

Sup: "I won't, I won't. So impatient."

ID: "ID WANT CAKE."

Sup: "Id will have cake when it's cooked."

ID: "ID WANT CAKE NOW."

JMX01: "Patience is a virtue, my large friend."

Soriel: "Bah, I agree with the big guy. Soriel want cake now."

ID: "ID LIKE SORIEL."

Sup: "That's because he shares a brain-cell with you..."

Soriel: "Eh? What did you say, punk?"

Sup: "Nothing! Cake's nearly done!"

Fred: "Hey, he just dissed you!" [/color]

Soriel: "I know. I'll kill him. But I want him to finish the cake first."

Sup: "..."

JMX01: "Cake looks done, old bean."

Sup: "Uh... yeah. Sorry. I think maybe a bit longer..."

ID: "CAKE NOW!"

Reluctantly, afraid of having his head cut off, Sup dishes out the cake after having put plenty of icing sugar on it. ID, JMX01 and Soriel, who were all sat at the breakfast bar, tucked in with glee.

ID: "YAY! CAKE!"

Soriel: "YAY! CAKE!"

JMX01: "MOST EXCELLENT! SPONGE-BASED DESERT!"

Soriel and ID gave JMX01 scornful looks.

JMX01: "I mean... YAY! ... CAKE!"

Fred: "Nice?" [/color]

Soriel: "Aye. I've decided I won't kill him after all. As long as he makes more cakes..."

Sup gave a silent sigh of relief. Cake heals all wounds.

-----

Ben the Writer: "You know, you're whole post, just looking at it, was all filler..."

Britt the Writer: "No, no! There was the war bit! That was... kind of... important..."

Ben the Writer: "..."

Britt the Writer: "Fine! It was all filler. Basically."

B.U.M.P.!

Deleware Patriot: Ow!

B.U.M.P.!

Maryland Patriot: Ow!

Judge: Stop it, you two!

Deleware Patriot: But he made the pre-emptive strike!

Judge: And here I figured they'd get along better...

((NSN: Just a little something because I've been too busy to write an actual post at the moment.))

Gebohq, Ben and Al Ciao wander into the kitchen, looking for the rest of the current NeS Heroes team. ID suddenly charged at them, skidded to a halt and then stared down at them with cruel intent.

ID: "CAKE OR DEATH!??"

Gebohq: "Uh... cake?"

ID pointed towards the cake still resting on the table where Soriel and JMX01 were enjoying their own slices. ID's had long gone in one fell swoop.

ID: CAKE OR DEATH!!?"

Al Ciao: "Cake?"

Again, ID pointed to the cake.

ID: "CAKE OR DEATH!!?"

Ben: "Cake. Definitely."

ID: "NO CAKE LEFT! ONLY DEATH!!!"

Ben: "Wha-!?"

Before ID smashed Ben's face into a crumbling mess of skull and brain matter, Sup came to the rescue.

Sup: "No! Bad ID! Down!"

Ben: "I saw my life flash before my eyes..."

Sup: "That went by pretty quick..."

Ben: "Pretty short and uneventful. I skipped over the boring bits. Which was most of it."

In order to prevent further beatings Sup continues to make cake. Unfortunately Sup is barely able to keep up with the demand, as cake is much preferable to death. ID sits, munching on the last piece of cake...

ID: "CAKE mmmmphshhh CAKE!"

Sup: "Can't..pant... Make...pant...More...pant...Cake" passes out in front of the oven.

ID: "ID want more CAKE"
Suddenly ID spots a piece of cake on a small black plate in the corner of the room

ID: "ID want CAKE"
He runs after the cake and right as he pounces on it, the Cake comedically jumps away. ID looks quizzically at the cake

CAKE: "Eat me!"

ID: "ID want CAKE"
ID pounces again, with the same result. After about 3 minutes of jumping around the room after the jumping cake, ID stops.

ID: "CAKE come to ID!"

CAKE: "Eat me!"
ID jumps at the cake, and is swallowed whole by a portal, along with the cake, the cake's final words echoing and slowly fading

CAKE: "CAKE eat YOUUUuuuuu"

Elsewhere...

Cris: "This is a great idea, a supper idea, why didn't I think of this idea before? Wait who am I talking to? Oh right ME!
Cris prances around celebrating the first idea he's had in weeks.

Cris: "I'll open a new shop and I'll call it MOAR CHIKIN! I love CHIKIN! YUM I want CHIKIN now!... Great there is some!"
Cris points to a piece of old fashioned fried Chikin on a black plate just in the middle of nowhere. He rushes to it and dissappears down the hole and portal right before it.

Chikin: "Chikin eat you!"
Chikin dissappears down the portal as well.

Elsewhere....

Geb: "I'm feeling a bit... peekish, I wonder wants in the fridge..."
Geb rummuges around the fridge and... oh come on, I think you know what happens by now right?
Nope what happens?
Really? You can't guess by the past two times what's going to happen.
He's going to get sucked down a portal right?
Duh
But there's more to it!
What do you mean?
What kind of food!
REALLY? REALLY? you're just THAT stupid?
Umm, hey don't be so hard on yourself.
AGH! IT'S A

Geb: "Doughnut! I love Doughnuts!"
And now Geb dissappears.

At the Great Gorging Grocery...

Mysterious Generic Bad Guy: "Our plan is working, slowly the heros are being stolen by the ingrediant agents. Soon we will be able to invade and free our lesser breathern from the yoke of humanity. Soon we will reign!"

Generic Minions 1-313: Cheers, whistles, screams of joy

GM 17: "we will win!"

GM 212: "Food will win!"

GM 72: "I don't know why I'm in this post!"

GM 42: "I'm the meaning of life!"

MGBG: "Now bring in the prisoners!"

Geb, ID, and Cris are brought in tied and gagged, their foods holding them captive. They are thrown on their knees, and their gags removed.

MGBG: "Now grovel in front of me the Almighty Super Supreme SQUASH!"

Geb: "Crap"

Cris: "You're not chikin!"

ID: "CAKE!"

The three heroes... well really one hero, an obsessive, and an idiot are caught in the clutches of the freaky food foes! What will happen, who else will be taken, will Geb get his doughnut, Cris his Chikin, and ID his CAKE? Find out next time on the NeS!

Crisp the writer: "there birthday present for you, happy now?"

Geb the writer: Glees and claps at the posting. "Happier, but I want more give me moar!"

At the Haunted House of Heroes...

Ben: "Wow... did ID just get eaten by a sentient cake?"

Soriel: "I... think so."

Ben: "It must be some kind of a new species! We should name it!"

Soriel: "What? Why?"

Ben shrugged.

Ben: "How about... Venus ID Trap?"

Soriel: "Why Venus?"

Ben: "Erm... I dunno. Why not?"
-----

Back at Mount Olympus, which was the home of all Gods regardless of origins because it makes more sense to keep the buggers all in one place, Venus felt her ears grow hot.

Venus: "Gah! Who the Hell name's a plant after a goddess!? Seriously!? My ears are like, constantly on fire!"

Osiris: "Hell? What's that?"
------

Soriel: "You know... I think Gebohq was eaten by a doughnut..."

Where the fearless-doughnut-hunter had once stood was nothing but a suspicious-looking refridgerator. The fridge tries, in vain, to appear less conspicuous but, lacking the essential sentience and limbs necessary for the task, fails. Ben, Soriel and Al Ciao gather around the culprit. The fridge sweats.

Ben: "Are we sure it wasn't the fridge?"

Soriel: "No, I'm sure the doughnut said it was going to eat him."

Al Ciao: "How do you know it was the doughnut that said that? It could have been the cheese? I heard cheese gives you nightmares..."

Soriel: "Because it spoke in the third person."

Al Ciao: "Ah! So it must have been a villainous doughnut!"

Ben: "Why?"

Al Ciao: "Because only arrogant jerks and evil villains speak in the third person!"

Ben: "This is one of those story conventions isn't it?"

Al Ciao: "No! That's just a standard-every-day fact. Where have you been living all this time?"

Soriel: "But while we're on the subject of story convention. We just lost our main character... again."

Al Ciao: "Good point. What the Hell kind of a main character is Geb anyway!? He's more like the damsel in distress!"

Ben: "Except for the damsel part. Having additional... well, you know."

Soriel: "His hair's pretty girly-looking. Always shiny like he uses conditioner or something..."

Al Ciao: "Good point! And it's always brushed. Nice and... flowing!"

Ben: "Seriously guys. I think he's definitely a guy too."

Al Ciao and Soriel continued to look doubtful.

JMXO1: "Well then, my fine chaps. The question is; how do we locate your intrepid leader?"

Al Ciao: "That plot device thing Rachel had?"

Soriel: "I guess that means we need to find Rachel? She's not going to agree to help Gebohq after what he did to her."

Al Ciao: "Yeah. Not that I blame her. That was a pretty crappy thing Geb did to her."

Fred: "You could try sexing her up? She'd like that!" [/size]

Soriel: "SILENCE BLADE!"

Al Ciao and Ben jumped at the sudden outburst. JMXO1 stood stoically, only a mild twitch in his eye suggesting any sudden discomfort.

Ben: "How do we even find Rachel?"

Rachel: "You don't have to."

This time even the cool and collected JMX01 flinched. Everyone else fell over.

Rachel: "Glad you all missed me so much!"

Al Ciao: "Did you hear everything we said?"

Rachel: "Yes. And thank you for being on my side."

Al Ciao appeared very pleased with himself.

Rachel: "Alright. You want my help right?"

Ben: "Well, actually we just want your plot device..."

Rachel's malevolent glare caused all the men to hush up in petrified silence. Soriel, at least, tried to maintain an aggressive outer demeanour, despite his soul wetting his ethereal pants.

Rachel: "So! You want my help. RIGHT!?"

They nodded.

Rachel: "Good. Well, you can tell him, when you eventually find him, that I said no."

Ben: "What?"

Soriel: "Oh c'mon!"

Rachel: "No no! I said no! He can rot in that doughnut's stomach..."

Ben: "If it has one... I mean, especially weird if it was a ringed one. I mean, where would it have a stomach?"

Soriel: "I'm beginning to dislike you already."

Ben attempted a defiant look. In reality he simply appeared petulant. Or constipated.

Fred: "See? Now's the prime opportunity to offer her your body! She'll go for it! Trust me!" [/size]

In a moment of desperation, Soriel actually decided to listen to his blade.

Soriel: "So... uh... how about if I offer you sex? Will you take us to Gebohq then?"

Rachel: "This is your sword talking, isn't it?"

Al Ciao: "Seriously don't answer that. I'm sure there's a PG13 rating on."

JMX01: "My lady, it strikes me as an ample opportunity for you to, once again, take the leading role in this dynamic story of epic proportions. You were the lead character in the last story arc and with the stories central hero once again captured, like a little girl, it might be a wise idea to place yourself as the leader again. To maintain story stability. You are the Protector of the Plotfractal, are you not? I am afraid Al Ciao could not take the role of leader, he is a powerplayer. Ben is far too green and doesn't even believe in The Story. And Soriel... well, we'd be lucky to survive the day..."

Soriel glowered at JMX01.

JMX01: "... See? And I'm merely a side-character. So it strikes me as prudent for you to take the role once again, if not just to maintain stability. We are, otherwise, short on heroes."

Rachel: "... Fine. Okay."

Ben: "That was easy."

Rachel: "Do you want me to change my mind?"

JMX01, Soriel and Al Ciao rushed to cover Ben's mouth.

Rachel: "Right then."

She pulled out the plot fractal device and activated it. A plothole appeared. With a nod of the head, Rachel led the four men through the portal, which closed with a snap behind them.

There was a groan by the oven.

Sup: "Cakes... Cakes... Cakes! No! No moar cakes! No! No moar!"

Sarn Cadrill leapt down a small drop, striking the ground with a hard thud. He paused for a short second or two before continuing his sprint through the North American forest. He had hunted down his breakfast, which turned out to be some kind of deer. The weather was fine and the trip easy, save for the occasional drop or climb.

He knew he must have covered several miles by the time he reached the river. He needed a rest. After gathering several dry branches for firewood, Sarn slumped to the ground and began the arduous task of rubbing two sticks together. This had always seemed easier when watching television.

A hand appeared before him holding a box of matches.

???: "Will these help?"

Looking up Sarn found himself in the presence of a tall, blonde woman. She wore a red checkered shirt, tight, worn jeans and tall boots. The 'rancher girl' look was completed by a brown Stetson. She crouched down next to him and struck a match against the box. When tossed onto the dry wood, flames appeared instantly, eager to consume the brittle wood.

???: "Most people would have said 'thanks', you know?"

Sarn: "Yeah... thanks. Sorry. Just surprised to see someone else way out here."

???: "I was actually just headed home. I've been logging down in the valley back there. Thought I'd give it a rest for the day. Where you headed?"

Sarn: "Out of this forest. Anywhere."

???: "Well, that sounds like a plan. Although... you're going the wrong way. If you keep heading north like you are, it'll take you days to get out. West would be quicker."

Sarn: "Alright. Thanks for the help. And advice. I'll keep it in mind."

???: "Okay... want me to go with you? Reckon you could use the company."

Sarn: "No, I'm okay. I can walk by myself. Got these things they call legs, you see."

???: "I said company, smart-***. C'mon, let me travel with you for a while. I don't get to see many folks up here in the forest, you know? Not since my pa died, anyway. That was some months back now. Been up here all alone! Some guys come up to buy carvings from me. Some of the produce I grow too. Got greenfingers. And wood ones too, I guess. I make all kinds of little ornaments and trinkets. I think city folks like 'em. They think they're quaint, I guess."

Sarn: "Wow... you talk a lot for someone on their own."

???: "Hey, imagine been alone for so long! It feels good just to talk to someone else that isn't small and fuzzy."

Sarn had to consider his words carefully at that.

Sarn: "You mean animals, right?"

???: "Sure! What else would I mean!?"

Sarn gave a shrug. He supposed his mind was just jumping to 'naughty' conclusions because he, too, had been alone for quite some time now. The thought of Voodoo Snowflakes fell on him like blessed cold water. How could he even be mildly tempted by another woman when he had such a good one waiting for him? If a little... mental. From time to time.

???: "I'm Alice, by the way. I don't think I told you that already did I?"

Sarn: "No. I'm Sarn."

Alice: "Sarn? That's a weird name. Is it one of those European names?"

Sarn: "I don't think so..."

Alice: "Sounds German to me. Or maybe... Norwegian. Is that how you say it? Norwegian?"

Sarn: "I think so..."

Alice: "Wow. You're like a many of few words, ain't you? You're like some kind of hero on a quest to save his girl, right?"

Sarn: "Actually, yes."

Alice: "What? Really? Seriously? No way! You're kidding me, right? Are you pulling my leg?"

Sarn: "Uh... no... I mean, yes. Yes I am looking for my... uh... girl."

Alice: "Oh wow! How romantic!"

She gave him a small shove of affection before falling back on her back and staring up at the darkening sky, a broad, wistful grin on her lips.

Alice: "Wish someone would come and rescue me."

Sarn: "You don't look like you need rescuing..."

Alice: "Rescuing from loneliness!"

Sarn: "Right..."

He couldn't help but laugh. He had to confess that it felt good to have some company, even if it was an air-headed, talkative, mountain girl. He couldn't indulge for long though. Voodoo was out there somewhere. She needed him.

Sup : I was afraid of this. We are being swallowed by subplots. This always happens then I mix myself with heroes.

. . .

In the bowls of the rather chilly fortress Frigidair, Geb, ID, and Some other guy are threatened by sentient food stuff. A sandwich wielding an olive-tipped toothpick jabs Gebohq repeatedly just to annoy him.

ID : CAKE! HEY CAY-AKE!

Gebohq : I don't think the cake is going to come.

ID : ID WANT CAKE!

Gebohq : We must be in Soviet Russia.

ID : ID NOT CARE ABOUT SILLY SOVIET SOCIALIST REPUBLIC. ID WILL EAT CAKE.

With one massive tug, ID snapped the sausage links the sentient food had used to chain him up with. While the sausage screamed in horror, ID devoured it. And then he devoured the sandwich. And a few other things nearby which hopefully were also food.

. . .

Ares did warn the gods. They even planned some defenses? But how do you defend against a trans-dimensional power-playing being? You don't, that's how. Ares was at his most vulnerable. He'd just gotten out of the shower, and stood in his luxurious penthouse apartment wrapped in a bath towel, when the roof of his penthouse vanished.
And by vanished I mean flew directly upward at a high velocity. Ares watched it go, slightly perplexed. This was not something he expected a roof to do. Generally he expected it to sit in one place which seemed the exact opposite of what it was now doing.
Then, high above in the sky, a shimmery figure shimmered. A bright light appeared above it, and grew and grew until the shimmery figure was a shimmery black spot against an immense fireball. The very heavens rang with the figure's rage.

The Heavens : Ares!

Ares : That would explain the roof.

The Heavens : Tremble before me, ye god of war, and know that I am your alpha and omega!

Ares : I'll pass. But thanks.

The Heavens : AAAAGH! WE ARE DARK EGO AND WE WILL CONSUME YOU!

Ares : Right. What were you planning on doing with that gigantic fireball? Cram it up your ***?

That is not what DarkEgo planned. It was not what DarkEgo planned at all.

Alice: "There, see? I told you we'd make it here in no time!"

Stretched out in the distance was a city. Sarn Cadrill wasn't yet sure which city it was, but any urban landscape would be preferable over the biting bugs and swooping owls of the forest. He started down the hillside before he realised he was alone. He looked back up to see Alice watching him leaving, her hands clutched together and her large blue eyes pouring out with sorrow.

Sarn: "Uh... I guess this is goodbye then."

Alice: "I suppose. Short and sweet."

Sarn: "I'd say you were describing yourself."

Alice: "Not sure if short is very flattering, but thank you for calling me sweet."

Sarn: "Are you going to be okay out here on your own?"

She shrugged. He had a feeling her inner voice was saying 'of course' but her body language was designed to make her appear weak, vulnerable and in need of manly protection. He didn't have time for this. He looked at her. The internal conflict within Sarn raged. His hero training was telling him to save the girl, keep her safe, as was his manly ego. The rest of him was telling him she would be fine on her own, she has been for some time now and he had to find Voodoo Snowflakes. Unfortunately this side of his character was in the minority. He wondered if more personalities were beginning to form up somewhere in his mind.

Alice: "You know, I don't live very far away. Seriously, just half a mile back. You could stay the night and then head to the city tomorrow?"

Tempting...

Alice: "I'm sure your lady friend can wait a day for you to rest your legs."

Butter could melt from her radiant proximity when she wore that smile. Sarn's heart proved to have the same consistency as butter.

Sarn: "Alright. Okay. Just one night. I'll have to leave early in the morning."

With that he followed her to her log cabin, hidden by some dense woodland. It appeared quite sturdy, though old. Sarn guessed Alice's father had built it. There was a make-shift washing line, a small stone well and even a small gas light hanging on the porch; the word 'quaint' rarely fit so well. Alice skipped to her door and swung it open. No lock. It seemed the girl had no concept of the dangers that lurked in most human hearts.

Alice: "Welcome to my extravagant mansion!"

He traipsed inside and looked around the small space. It was cosy, warm and lovely. Far from what Sarn was used to. But it was nice. Like something from an old dream. Alice offered him the couch and he accepted it. There was no television. From what he could tell only the lights and an old radio were electrical.

Darkness had begun to settle on the world outside of the window. Moments later the patter of rain against glass and wood drummed throughout the house. He wouldn't have even made it into the city had he continued on. Lucky.

Sarn: "Nice weather we're having."

Alice: "I like the rain. It's kinda... tranquil."

Sarn: "I suppose so."

Alice sat down beside him, two glasses of wine in her hands and that warm smile on her delicate lips...

A dark figure descended from the sky, shrouded within a billowing cloak of darkness. Wind tore over the landscape, tugging at the debris where the roof of Ares' penthouse had once been. Somewhere, far off, the sound of the roof crashing down to earth again sounded out.

Ares: "That's going to cost a fair bit of money, you know?"

Weirdly, Ares was still wearing his shades, despite being in nothing else but a bathrobe. He tweaked them as he watched DarkEgo land upon the marble floor.

Ares: "And I've got better things to be doing with my time than playing around with you."

DarkEgo: "Like playing around with your silly coliseum?"

Ares: "Exactly."

The flaming ball of fire that had been waiting commands from DarkEgo now plummeted downwards, straight at Ares. The God of War looked up and stared at the incoming magickal missile as though he watching some interesting bug fluttering down towards him. The hollow eyes of DarkEgo watched Ares with growing agitation.

With one, deft, movement, Ares side-stepped, allowing the flaming ball to strike the floor. Ares victory was short-lived, however, as the flames burst out like napalm. With much cursing, the God hovered away from the rapidly growing fire and patted his towel down.

Ares: "That's fighting dirty."

DarkEgo: "And?"

Athena: "And that means we can fight dirty too."

DarkEgo turned just in time to receive a hammer to the face, sending his corporeal body tumbling to the floor. The hammer was massive, stone and in the hands of Thor, God of Lightning.

Athena: "This is the rapid response team I set up to protect Ares from you, DarkEgo. Soon you'll have a huge swarm of Gods all over your arse. Even cheating, power-players like you can't stand up to a mass army of very miffed gods."

Athena, Ares half-sister, stood beside Thor. Behind them was Loki, God of Fire and Mischief and Sekhmet, the lion-headed goddess. Gods of all cultures united for one purpose. The arse-kicking of DarkEgo.

DarkEgo: "Bollocks..."

Thor's hammer came at him again, though this time DarkEgo was more than prepared to receive it. His body scattered into a thick, black cloud, allowing the physical hammer to pass straight through him. This small victory didn't amount to much, however. The magick-like elemental attacks of the gods would soon rain down upon him and even incorporeal beings were subjects to energy manipulation. He fled.

The black cloud soured into the sky, but the gods gave chase, each of them able to fly. The spear of Sekhmet sped from her hands and pierced through the cloud, though it left a blister of elemental damage that lit up as a small red clump of the cloud. DarkEgo cursed. He would have to find another way to get to Ares. Alone.

Eventually the gods gave up the chase and allowed DarkEgo to make good his escape. Athena considered this a small victory, but it would not be the last they saw of DarkEgo, she knew.