SUMMARY

Before we return to our regularly scheduled posting, here is a quick summary of where we're at now, for any new readers or writers, or heck, for the old ones too. (No, Geb, that's not a gibe about your age!)

Our heroes have determined that they are facing 11 enemies: Lucifer, JM, Evil Geb, The Censor, Highemp, GUNTHER, Geronimo, and four other unknown villains who have yet to be introduced or even named. At this point they split into three parties.

The first party consists of Geb, Losien, and Cris. They are attempting to teach Losien the ability to storywield in a series of montages set to 80s music. (Storywielding is a form of reality warping, but it's limited by what makes a good story.) Unfortunately, they keep teaching storywielding to everyone EXCEPT Losien, including Cris and a now-talking dog named Captain Von Trufflesnout.

The second party consists of Cool Matty, Citizen Rex, and Mimiru. They are attempting to find out more about the enemies the heroes will face, starting with Gunther and Geronimo the death-threat-delivering pizza delivery boy. They are currently on a movie set, which they had gone to thinking it was a village in Paraguay, where they discovered that the Director is acquainted with Geronimo.

The third party consists of Liberius, Al Ciao, and Rachel. They are responsible for collecting significant items (quest-related and/or magical). To start, they went to a secret mech base in a frozen wasteland searching for the Ring of Infinite Story Knowledge. They got it from the new leader of the mech pilots, the redhead Mia who has come onto Al Ciao and is now his girlfriend. In addition, they have been joined by the dog Captain Von Trufflesnout, who belongs to Liberius.

A quick rundown of the characters follows:

HEROES:

Gebohq: Also known as Geb for short, he was till recently the main character of the NeS. He is something of a coward and misfit, yet this overlies a core of bravery and the desire to do the right and loving thing.

Losien: Geb's sister, she is now the main character and leader of the NeS heroes, a role which she is slowly growing into. Extremely beautiful yet severely lacking in self-esteem.

Cris: A restaranteur specializing in CHIKIN (not chicken), he has come to fill the "Mentor" role of the heroes.

Cool Matty: A young wizard specializing in teleportation and fire magic.

Mimiru: Cool Matty's wife, a strong melee fighter and Cool Matty's apprentice in magic.

Citizen Rex: A powerplayer who has been pressed into service by Al Ciao the Writer. Actually Al Ciao's past self (known as Highemperor) who has taken the guise of Citizen Rex, powerplaying champion of Hero Force One. Currently tricked by Evil Geb into thinking he has no powerplaying ability at the moment, "only" his normal martial and energy/magic-manipulation powers.

Al Ciao: A former powerplayer who struggles against the temptation of reverting back into Citizen Rex (the present version, not the past version) and using his powerplaying once more. By turns zany and melodramatic.

Liberius: Newest member of the NeS heroes, he is filling the role of the "Stranger", who possesses mysterious knowledge and insight that comes to him at times convenient to the plot. Revealing a tactical turn of mind, he is the one who determined that the heroes should go on these three quests. Has lost most of his memory of his past. Has a whistle which can summon an Interdimensional Taxi.

Rachel: Incarnation of April Fools, is Geb's true love, but they are currently estranged, Geb denying his love for the sake of the story. Of course, now that Geb is no longer main character, that may change...

VILLAINS

Lucifer: Otherwise known as Jim, he rules from Canada (the 9th circle of Hell). Currently supervising his demonic army attacking Dr. Evil, who controls Disneyworld in Florida, because Dr. Evil's daughter - TotallyEvil - is a villain and a damned soul escaped from hell, whom Dr. Evil is now sheltering.

JM: A self-absorbed egotist, he possesses the power to alter structures in the environment. He has currently siphoned off Al Ciao's powerplaying energies, meaning Al can't (at least now easily) turn back into Citizen Rex at the moment. Seeks to destroy the NeS through the power of bad writing.

Evil Geb: Geb's doppelganger from an alternate, dystopian future. More competent than good Geb.

Highemp: Short for Highemperor, the Ultimate Powerplayer. This is Al Ciao's alter ego (currently known as Citizen Rex), AND Al Ciao's past self (currently in the present, masquerading as Citizen Rex). Confusing, right? If Al should revert back, or if the past Citizen Rex should turn on them (which is possible, given his power-hunger), he would be a major threat.

The Censor: A powerful voice which can censor out obscenity (which he can define just about any way he wants). Seeks to restrict the free spirit of NeS. Possibly under the control of JM, or at least unleashed by him.

Geronimo: A pizza delivery boy who threatened Cool Matty on behalf of GUNTHER.

GUNTHER: A mysterious entity of whom we know nothing.

And now back to our regularly scheduled posting...

In the Massassi Writer's Office...

Al Ciao the Writer: I worship you, Liberius!

Liberius the Writer: Why? Cuz I gave your character a girlfriend?

ACtW: Oyah!

LtW: ...or because I posted so much?

ACtW: That, too. You know, it's interesting, because I have actually been in a psychotic relationship with a redhead before.

LtW: Really? You had a psychotic girlfriend?

ACtW: No, I was the psychotic one in the relationship.

LtW: ...

ACtW: But she was super-hot!

As Al Ciao the Writer stares off in space, drooling, as he remembers his redheaded ex-girlfriend, Liberius waits a moment, then pokes him.

LtW: You gonna write, or not?

ACtW: Yes! Capital idea! I'll write an email to Jessica right now, looking her up!

LtW: ...I meant for NeS.

ACtW: Oh. That, too.

-----

In the office, Al Ciao has taken over playing fetch with Captain von Trufflesnout, Jr., The Third - because some writers forget those tiny but important suffixes - and Mia sidles up to Liberius.

Mia: *leaning in very close to Liberius, practically breathing in his ear* Liberius...

Liberius: Whoa! I'm glad you're warming up to me now that you know I'm not gay, but you gotta know, I'm loyal to Al.

Mia: What? No! *she slaps him upside the head* Idiot. I just wanted to know about any exes Al had.

Liberius: Are you kidding? Look at him! Probably the only female who's ever kissed him before you was a dog.

Suddenly, a great voice booms down from the sky.

CENSOR: I'm warning you, Liberius, we can't have any of that sick stuff in this story.

Liberius: What? No! I didn't mean like that. I meant, because, you know, dogs lick people's faces.

Mia: C'mon, Liberius, don't put me on! A cutie like that must have women lining up for a chance at him!

Liberius stares levelly at Mia for a moment.

Liberius: Woman, are you blind in one eye?!

Mia stares back at him for another moment.

Mia: It's not my fault Arnie had a pencil in his pants when we were fooling around.

Liberius: Oh. My. WriterGod. You do realize he has spiky neon orange hair?

Mia: I'm color blind, too.

Liberius: Oh, for the love of-- Look, he's an imbecile. He can't have had any ladies in hs life before.

Mia: You seem to be speculating, rather than drawing on actual knowledge.

Liberius: Well, yes, I've only known him since the beginning of this page.

Mia: Page?

Liberius: Nevermind. Anywho, you'd be better off asking Rachel. She's a Protector of the Plotfractal.

Mia: Plotfractal?

Liberius: Look, just go ask her.

Mia: Ask?

Liberius: Seriously?

Mia: Just yanking your chain. I like to demasculate gay guys.

Liberius: I'm NOT--

But Mia has already moved over to Rachel.

Mia: So, Rachel...

Rachel: For the last time, I am NOT interested in Al!

Mia stares levelly at Rachel for a moment.

Mia: What are you, crazy?

Rachel stares back at her for another moment.

Rachel: It's not MY fault I'm the impersonation of April Fools.

Mia: Oh. My. MechGod.

Rachel: There's a MechGod?

Mia: Nevermind. I just want to know about Al's old flames.

A sly expression grows across Rachel's face.

Rachel: You're looking at her.

Mia: WHAT?!

Rachel: Yep, I can't tell you the number of times we made out under the stars...

Mia's face is breaking out in splotches of purple. She angrily yanks Rachel's jester hat off her head. Rachel instantly sobers and turns a nasty expression onto Mia.

Rachel: It's all fun and games, until someone touches the hat.

Mia: Yeah? What YOU gonna do about it... [female dog]?

(The Censor strikes again!)

Now it is Rachel's face which is breaking out in splotches of red and purple. Then she leaps at the buxom redhead, and they are soon wrestling about on the office floor, snarling and slapping and scratching.

-----

In the Massassi Writer's offices, Liberius the Writer is looking over Al Ciao the Writer's shoulder as the latter types up a post.

LtW: "Snarling and slapping and scratching"?

ACtW: Geb figures our Christmastime bonuses by how much alliteration we've used the previous year. He has a weakness for it.

LtW: Bonuses? I didn't know we got paid at all!

ACtW: We don't. The bonus is in donuts.

LtW: Duly noted.

-----

As the women roll around in a catfight, Liberius and Al leap to their feat in amazement.

Liberius: Oh my stars and garters!

Al is too fixated on the catfight to laugh at Liberius' odd phrase, borrowed from X-Men's Beast.

Al Ciao: I know! It's amazing!

Liberius: We've got to break them up!

Al Ciao: What are you, gay?

Liberius: For the last time, I am not--

Al Ciao: Catfights between two hot chicks TRIPLES the hotitude factor!

Liberius: Is that a technical calculation?

Al: No...

Liberius: Cuz I would hate to think that anyone would waste his time working out specific calculations of hotness.

Al: ... the technical calculation is that it multiples the hotitude by 3.14159.

Liberius: ...pi?

Al: No thanks, I just ate.

Liberius rolls his eyes in exasperation as Al whips out his cell phone and starts videotaping the catfight.

Al: Oh, man... this is GREAT stuff... I wonder if Geb will pay me for a copy, he has a thing for Rachel. Especially if I touch it up so they're nude.

A voice once again booms down from the sky.

CENSOR: This is your warning, Al.

Al: What? It's not like I'll show the AUDIENCE that modified tape.

Random Audience Member: Aw man!

Random Female Audience Member: *slaps the Random Audience Member upside the head* Pig!

Liberius facepalms.

-----

Cool Matty: ...and slather it with anchovies.

Citizen Rex: What? Foolish mortal, Citizen Rex will not be soiled by eating anchovies!

Cool Matty: Make that HALF-covered in anchovies. Ten minutes? Great.

He hangs up.

Cool Matty: I gave them your credit card number, Mim.

Mimiru: You know, I'm starting to think that we're on the wrong track here.

Citizen Rex: I would ask what you mean, but I am far above such inconsequential questions.

He looks at Cool Matty. Cool Matty squints up at the sky, twiddles his thumbs some, then looks down at his feet while fingering a bloody, rusty dagger.

Citizen Rex: Ahem.

Cool Matty: What?

Citizen Rex: *indicating Mimiru with a nod* Ask her what she means.

Cool Matty: I thought you were ABOVE--

Citizen Rex: Silence, fool! Now do as I say.

Cool Matty: ...and not as I do?

Citizen Rex: Says the man who powerplays while telling me not to.

Cool Matty: Fine. Mimiru, what do you mean we're on the wrong track?

Mimiru: Well, Geronimo threatened you, supposedly ordered by Gunther to do so. But he also threatened this Director, too. That makes me wonder if he doesn't threaten EVERYBODY he delivers to.

Cool Matty: OMQ! He's a psycho serial killer!

Citizen Rex: We must stop him from his villainy!

Mimiru: NO, idiots. Maybe that's just his thing. Like he's not quite all there, or it's his idea of a joke. He's not really intending to kill anybody, much less you or the Director. It's just his catchphrase.

Citizen Rex: OR... the Director is more important than we think.

Cool Matty: Of course! There must be some link between myself, Gunther, and the Director, for him to want to kill us both!

Mimiru facepalms.

Citizen Rex: There is a link already - the Director totally digs Gunther!

Cool Matty: No, he digs Gunther the MUSICIAN, not Gunther our anonymous VILLAIN.

Citizen Rex: UNLESS... they're one and the same!

Cool Matty: Of course! Gunther the musician is the same Gunther who wants to kill me and the Director!

Mimiru: Are you two listening to yourselves? Why would Gunther want to kill his biggest fan - or you, someone he knows nothing about? And why would he give you each advance warning via Geronimo?

This appears to stump Cool Matty and Citizen Rex. Then Geronimo drives up on his scooter, and hands them the pizza.

Geronimo: Hello, Cool Matty. Here's your pizza. You will die at Gunther's hand.

Cool Matty looks at Mimiru. She just raises her eyebrow.

Geronimo: That'll be $26.77.

Mimiru: So that's just your gimmick, right? You say that to everyone, right? You don't really want to kill the Director or my husband?

Geronimo: Of course I don't want to kill the Director or your husband.

Mimiru smiles triumphantly at Cool Matty and Citizen Rex.

Geronimo: But Gunther does.

It is now Cool Matty and Citizen Rex's turn to smile triumphantly.

Cool Matty: Thank you for that information, my good man. Here's your tip.

Geronimo: I changed my mind. I DO want to kill you, Cool Matty.

Cool Matty: What? Why?

Geronimo: Are you freakin' kidding me? A one-dollar tip?

Cool Matty: Oh. Right.

Mimiru: Give the man a larger tip, Matthew.

Cool Matty: Not a chance! Death threats I can handle, but NOT an empty wallet.

Back in the office of the secret mech base, Mia and Rachel are sitting on the couch. Each is covered in small welts and scarlet scratches, but they are at a truce now, Mia having returned Rachel's cap, and Rachel having admitted that she has never dated Al. Al has kissed Mia all better.[/I]

Mia: I'm glad you've never dated Rachel, Al baby.

Al: Mia darling, I would never date her!

Mia: Because she's ugly, right?

Rachel: Hey!

Al: Because I'm loyal to my good friend Geb.

Mia: AND because she's ugly, right?

Rachel: Again - hey!

Al, without his powerplaying, may not be the sharpest tack in the drawer, but he knows which side his bread is buttered on.

Al: And because she's ugly.

Rachel slaps Al.

Al: Hey!

Mia: Aw, poor baby. Let me make it better.

She and Al engage in a make-out session, which is edited out by the Censor--

Random Audience Member: Aw man!

Random Female Audience Member: Pig!

--but eventually they break apart, and Mia shoos Al to the corner of the office with Liberius while she has a girl talk with Rachel.

Mia: So tell me about Al's exes.

Rachel: Well, he's had two. Harem Girl #87--

Zip to the Massassi Writer's office.

Liberius the Writer: Harem Girl #87? Who the heck is she? (I have no idea, but boy I'd like to, hubba hubba...)

Al Ciao the Writer: Read NeS1888 to find out.

Liberius: Was that a shameless plug?

Al Ciao the Writer: Was it that obvious?

Liberius the Writer: Yes.

Al Ciao the Writer: Good.

Zip back to the secret mech base office.

Rachel: --who died because of the machinations of the vampiric Desmond, when Al was Prince Emp of Armenia in the 19th century. Also there was Alole, royal descendant of the ancient Atlantean imperial sovereigns, who died giving birth to his daughter.

Mia: What? He has a kid?

Rachel: Yep. Iriana Emp. Kinda alienated her with his powerplaying and taste for tragic drama as Highemperor. She would be about 15 now, probably with some bitterness and daddy issues.

Zip to the Massassi Writer's offices.

Liberius the Writer: Could your plot hooks be any more obvious?

Al Ciao the Writer: Yes. I could have written in a literal hook that ropes in plot, like Geb did.

Liberius the Writer: Touche.

Geb the Writer: I heard that!

Zip back to the secret mech base office.

Mia: Wow. I had no idea he was a man of such passion.

Rachel: Seriously? That whole history didn't throw you off?

Mia: Why would it?

Rachel: Well, maybe the fact that he has an estranged teenage kid. Or, I don't know, the fact that all his previous romances ended in the death of the woman.

Zip to the Massassi Writer's offices. In addition to Liberius, Geb, Cool Matty, and Cris the Writers are leaning over Al's shoulder as he types.

Cool Matty the Writer: You DID have a flare for tragic romance back in the day, Al.

Al Ciao the Writer: It was the only way I could counterbalance the powerplaying I did back then.

Cris: What? Why would a powerplayer have wanted to BALANCE his powerplaying? Isn't that a contradiction in terms?

Al Ciao the Writer: For two reasons. One, the only way a powerplayer can be tolerated in a story is if his powerplaying has any kind of meaning to the story. Two, the fact that my fictional character could powerplay but my real self is powerless ate at me so much, that I had to find some justification for it all, hence all the tragedy I dumped on Highemp.

Geb the Writer: Wow. Fun Highemp Expositions, Int'l.

Liberius the Writer: He does that a lot, huh?

Geb: Yup. Fictional metaphysics and psychological theodicy in one paragraph. Get used to it.

Within the mech base, Mia leads Al Ciao, Rachel, and Liberius Vir (with his dog, Captain von Trufflesnout, Jr., The Third) into the mess hall, where they have non-descript mess hall food that's best left a mystery. While Al and Mia are feeding each other in a disgustingly-romantic manner, Rachel whispers to Liberius Vir, who is currently poking his food as if it may jump off his plate.

Rachel: Psst, Vir.

Liberius Vir: Hmm?

Rachel: I want you to keep an eye on Mia for me. Her infatuation with Al doesn't add up.

Liberius Vir: I can keep an eye on her... oh, you mean because of Al. So she's psychotic. She is a woman.

Rachel stares at Liberius Vir.

Liberius Vir: ...a woman who's been isolated in the middle of nowhere, making a living piloting giant robots. So what? Let the poor man have something nice.

Rachel: She's going to snap is all I'm saying, and it won't be pretty when it happens. It's my job to encourage conflict in this story, so I won't be able to do anything about it, but I like Al trying to turn his life around from his powerplaying ways too, so I don't want to see him too hurt. So I got to rely on you to be on guard for me, got it?

Liberius Vir: Jealous of her good looks, got it.

Rachel sighs, picks up her plate of food, gets up, and calmly dumps it on Liberius Vir's head. He blinks, stunned, while his dog, Captain von Trufflesnout, jumps up on the table and starts licking the food off his face.

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

Meanwhile (NeS count: apparently not enough), Cool Matty, Mimiru and Citizen Rex face off against the fury of Geronimo!

Geronimo: WRAAAAA!

Cool Matty watches as Geronimo unleashes a less-than-furious serious of slaps against Cool Matty's stomach.

Cool Matty: Uh...well, this isn't what I expected.

Mimiru: Considering most girls can beat you up, dear, I agree.

Cool Matty: Yeah... hey, wait...

Citizen Rex: This child is considered a threat? Let's not waste our time and just be done with this one.

Citizen Rex punts Geronimo away from Cool Matty. An audible gasp is heard from our random audience members. Sad violin music plays as Geronimo lies on the ground, eyes watering and lip pouting. A nasty minor chord strikes as the focus shifts back to Citizen Rex.

Mimiru: Oh great, now we're the bad guys for beating up a defenseless kid.

Citizen Rex: We needn't concern ourselves with their perceptions of good and evil.

Cool Matty: Are you kidding? This is the NeS -- perception is everything! And hell, even if it wasn't, beating up a little kid is pretty sad, even if he is a punk who delivers poisoned pizza. He's probably just following the wrong crowd, like GUNTHER or something.

Mimiru: Yeah, we're the good guys. We have to think of something else if we don't want to be villains about this.

Citizen Rex: Or maybe being the villain is what is needed...

Cool Matty: I don't like that tone, Rex. Don't lay a hand on that boy, you got it?

Just then, Geronimo kicks Cool Matty in the shin and starts to run off.

Cool Matty: OW! I'm going to kill that lil' son of a *****! COME BACK HERE!

In the Massassi Writer's offices, the door to Geb's editor's office flies open, as the Gebinator himself strides out into the cubicle area.

Geb the Writer/Editor/Admin: Where the [smurf] is Liberius the Writer? ...and how in [smurfdom] is that [son of a smurf] Censor doing his thing here!

Al Ciao the Writer: To answer your second question, the Censor has an office in here somewhere, with cameras, audio pickups, and P.A. systems throughout the building. He watches us, and with his quick reflexes and ability to pick up subliminal pre-cursing facial cues is able to censor our conversations by interjecting a replacement over the P.A.

Geb the Writer/Editor/Admin: Yeah, I didn't really care. Where is Liberius the Writer? he hasn't posted in over a week! He doesn't post anywhere near enough!

Al Ciao the Writer: Actually, I think it's fair to say he posts much more than the rest of us; it's just it comes in bursts.

Geb the Writer/Editor/Admin: Well, sod that! It's not about how much you write at one time, it's how many times you write!

Al Ciao the Writer: ...you write fewer times than he does and less each time.

Geb the Writer/Editor/Admin: Hey! As the new admin, I'm very busy banning the spambots!

Al Ciao the Writer: ...yeah, I haven't noticed any spambots here in a while.

Geb glares fiercely at Al Ciao.

Geb the Writer/Editor/Admin: And just WHY do you think that is?

Al Ciao the Writer: Sure, Geb. Whatever you say.

Geb the Writer/Editor/Admin: Now, since I am *ahem* very busy banning spambots, I need YOU to write a post!

Al Ciao the Writer: But this is my day off.

Geb the Writer/Editor/Admin: Huh? You get days off?

Al Ciao the Writer: Well, not really, it's just that I choose to go on strike once a week.

Geb the Writer/Editor/Admin: Then why are you still in here?

Al Ciao the Writer: I don't get paid here, remember? Got evicted from my apartment ages ago.

-----

In the mess hall at the secret mech base in the frozen desert, our heroes are slouching on their benches, full of food. Al Ciao and Mia are cuddling, while Liberius consults his journal.

Rachel: Don't you think we've dawdled here long enough? Let's go after the next item on our quest!

Liberius continues to read. Rachel sighs and pokes Al Ciao.

Rachel: Al! Tell Liberius we need to go.

Al Ciao starts. He has been staring dreamily into Mia's vivid green eyes, being the hopeless romantic that he is.

Al Ciao: Er, right. Uh, Liberius...

At that moment, Liberius shuts his journal.

Liberius: Right then. We need to continue our item quest.

Rachel mutters something about a 'male chauvinist pig', but everyone ignores her.

Liberius: We have the ring, specifically the Ring of Infinite Story Knowledge.

Al Ciao: Which is kinda useless, since only a Writer can use it.

Mia: Didn't you say you were a writer, Liberius?

Liberius: Wrong kind of writer, unfortunately.

Rachel: Maybe it doesn't matter what kind of writer you are. Maybe you can use it.

Al Ciao: Should we find out?

Captain Von Trufflesnout, Jr, III, looks up from his fifth plate of goulash.

Captain Von - sod this, I'm just gonna call him Trufflesnout: No. Wait til a moment of plot suspense, when it'll actually matter.

Mia: Are you serious? You need to know about all your resources ahead of time.

Liberius: Madam, in a story no one knows all his resources ahead of time.

Rachel: Except for powerplayers. But they're shallow characters anyway, with absolutely no sense of humor!

Mia: Alright, fine. Run your operation the way you want. What were the other items you were looking for?

Rachel and Al Ciao look at each other warily, and simultaneously cry out contradictory answers.

Rachel: A sword!

Al Ciao: A shield!

They glare at each other.

Liberius: Yes, well, there's also some kind of strong suit of armor with strange powers.

Mia: Well, we've already got that.

Rachel: We do?

Mia: Of course! My mech, Raij.

Al Ciao: Mia honey, have I told you how incredible you are?

Mia: *fluttering her eyelashes coquettishly* Tell me again...

Before they can kiss, Rachel cuts in.

Rachel: *skeptically* I don't know...

Al shoots a glare at Rachel.

Al Ciao: If Mia says it counts, it counts.

Liberius: I'm afraid I'm going to have to side with Al and Mia on this one, Rachel.

Trufflesnout: Besides, you have to admit, it factors a part of Mia's character background and equipment into an already established plot paradigm. Synchronicity and all that.

Rachel shoots Liberius a you-win-this-round-but-I'll-remember-this look, but makes not further argument.

Liberius: So then, we have the ring and the armor. Now we need-

Rachel and Al Ciao once again shout out simultaneously.

Rachel: A sword!

Al Ciao: A sword!

Rachel: In your dreams, Al, we need a-- wait, you agreed with me? I thought you were being a pansy who wanted to cower behind a shield.

Al's eyes dart furtively to Mia, then he puffs out his chest and throws back in his shoulders in a comical attempt to look macho and brave.

Al Ciao: I never said any such thing! I clearly said, this whole time, that we should procure a weapon to take the battle to the enemy, hacking them on the front lines, and wallowing in their blood!

Mia places a hand to her breast.

Mia: Be still my heart...

Rachel looks at Mia as if to say, Really?.

Rachel: Fine then. I say we should go after a shield.

Al Ciao: What? You can't change your mind!

Rachel: YOU did. And I have to maintain conflict.

Al Ciao: *his eyes darting to Mia, who is still overcome with admiration for Al's feigned boldness* No, no, I was simply restating what I suggested all along...

But he doesn't press the point.

Liberius: Well, actuall, perhaps we should go after the book next.

Rachel and Al Ciao: A book?!

Liberius: Well, yes. Besides the sword and shield, that's the only other item we currently have suggested as objects in our quest.

Trufflesnout: And it's a perfect compromise between sword and shield. The pen is mightier than the sword, right? And a big, heavy tome makes a great shield!

Al and Rachel grumble, but acquiesce.

Liberius: Now then, what book seems a likely candidate for what we seek?

Mia: Well, the only mystical book I know of anywhere near this place is the [i[Kama Sutra[/i]...

She winks slyly at Al, who flushes deep scarlet.

Trufflesnout: Actually, on my way over here, I heard some frost giants chatting about the legend of an ancient alchemists' grimoire.

Al Ciao: Pfft. Alchemy is useless.

Trufflesnout: It was called 101 Ways to Turn Things into Gold.

A gleam leaps into Al, Mia, and Liberius' eyes.

Liberius: Do tell.

Trufflesnout: Yeah, all kinds of things. Straw, lead, even donuts.

Al is momentarily baffled.

Al Ciao: But that would be a waste of a perfectly good donut...

Rachel: Seriously, Al? Have you hung around Geb that long?

Al Ciao: Yes.

Rachel: Anyway, come on. What good would the knowledge of how to turn stuff into gold do for our quest?

Liberius: All kinds of good! We could buy mansions, weapons, helicopters, five-star meals...

Mia: Jewelry, furs...

Al Ciao: Donuts, child support, a new haircut...

Rachel: Bah! Have it your way. Where is this Book of Gold?

Trufflesnout: Well...

Little do our heroes know that someone else also has their sights on 101 Ways To Turn Things into Gold. Buck Takes, formerly the richest man in the world, had all his money - which was in million dollar bills in a suitcase - stolen by two redshirts, Mark and Knear, on page 26. Mark and Knear somehow survived the encounter against all odds, despite being random henchmen working for a villain too minor for her name to even matter.

While Mark and Knear are living it up in the Bahamas, Buck Takes also seeks the legendary Book of Gold...

-----

Meanwhile [NeS Count: The horror! The horror!] Cris, Geb, and Losien are tiredly going through the motions of another montage.

Losien: No, didn't take this time either.

Geb: This is getting really frustrating and exhausting.

Losien: I'm sorry, Geb, I'm so stupid!

Geb: No, Losien, don't say that! You're strong and brave, not like me.

Cris: Wait! I've got it! The solution to all our problems!

Geb: Alright!

Losien: Don't leave us in suspense!

Cris: Well, in a far away land, on a mountain as tall as Everest, its slopes populated with werewolves and yeti, there is a monastery at the tip top, filled with the Monks of Montage. This reclusive order holds the key to performing a successful montage. The way is perilous, and fraught with danger, but if we dare, we will hold in our hands the secret of montages!

Dead silence for a moment. A tumbleweed rolls by.

Geb: So, let's try another montage!

Losien: Right on!

Cris facepalms.

-----

In the Massassi Writer's Offices...

Geb the Writer/Editor/Admin: Al! You totally ripped off a joke from NeS Illustrated!

Al Ciao the Writer: Actually, you never copyrighted it, whereas I have here a sealed, postmarked envelope with a copy of the joke inside.

Geb the Writer/Editor/Admin: ...fine. I'll give you ten dozen donuts for it.

Al Ciao the Writer: Why do you think everyone is like you?

Geb the Writer/Editor/Admin: What else could anyone want besides donuts?

Al Ciao the Writer: Eclairs.

Meanwhile [NeScount: How many meanwhiles does it take to get through writing NeS? The world may never know...], back at the secret mech base, our heroes are in the mech hangar, preparing to leave.

Liberius: So, how is this going to work? That mech may be big enough for you and your boyfriend to squeeze in, Mia, but what about the rest of us?

Mia: Raij is a very special mech. Watch.

She takes a remote out of her pocket and presses a button. In front of them, the giant mech known as Raij morphs, in a sequence ripped off from the Transformers movie, into a familiar-looking black car.

Mia: Alright, everyone, let's get in!

Trufflesnout: Shotgun!

The dog leaps in and promptly sticks his head out the window as Rachel and Liberius get into the back. Al slides into the driver's seat with Mia sitting on his lap. Naturally, Al has a big silly grin plastered on his face, like a teenager in heat. Seriously, Al, what are you, 14?

Al Ciao: Hush you.

At this point, Raij - now the car - speaks.

Raij: Hello, Michael.

Mia: Hello, Raij. Meet Liberius, Rachel, Captain Von Trufflesnout Jr III, and my boyfriend Al!

Raij: Hello, Michael, Michael, Michael, and Michael!

Rachel: Oh dear WriterGod, they've resurrected an ancient TACC joke that should have stayed forgotten...

Al takes ahold of the joystick to shift, when...

Raij: Oooh, Michael, my joystick, that's just the way I like it...

Al Ciao's hand jerks off the joystick like a bat out of Canada.

Raij: Aw...

Mia: Now, Raij, not everyone will play with you like I've done before.

Al: You've, er, "played" with his joystick before?

Mia: Oh, yes, it was quite invigorating.

Al eyes the tall joystick jealously. Drawing his mouth into a thin line, his eyes flare blue for an instant, then Mia squeals as she feels something as she sits in Al's lap.

Rachel: Al! Did you just powerplay?

Al: Give me a break, Rachel! Just this once!

THE CENSOR: Al Ciao! Did you just increase your [smurf]?

Liberius: You know it's really bad when the Censor gets censored...

Rachel: Hey, Vir.

Liberius Vir: Yes?

Rachel: Remember what I told you before about keeping an eye out?

Liberius Vir: Yeah?

Rachel: Don't bother.

Liberius Vir: Whatever.

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

Elsewhere, in the midst of montage madness...

Losien: You know, maybe we should just skip the whole "montage" deal and train normally.

Cris B: That's a terrible idea! We'll get this montage down if it takes us a million un-montaged years!

Losien: Wouldn't that defeat the purpose of a montage, though?

Cris B: I'm not following you.

Losien: Nevermind...

Gebohq: This all reminds me of the last time I had to trek up the Mountain of Dramatic Tension. Poor Pablo never had a chance against those vicious tanooki plushies and their balls of yarn...

Rachel: See you all later, I'm done with the NeS! And I'm taking Geb with me! You'll never see any of us again!

Rachel suddenly ceases to be in the story, as does Gebohq!

Rachel: ...until tomorrow, at least. Happy Birthday to me! =D

In the Massassi writers' office, Al Ciao the Writer is banging a mallet on a familiar looking game.

ACtW: Tarnation! Stay still, you little moles!

Geb the Writer: Al? What are you trying to do?

ACtW: Get a B.U.M.P. out of these moles!

GtW: You realize the game is called WHACK-a-mole, not BUMP-a-mole...

ACtW: Details, details.

W.H.A.C.K.!

ACtW: Someone else can figure out what it stands for...

-----

NSP: For the new reader/writer, a B.U.M.P. stands for Benevolent Upward Mobility Post, and is essentially a "filler" post meant to keep this thread on life support...

==================================================

In the office the Writers seem restless. They sit playing games or reading. They chit chat amongst themselves trivially. Even JM the Writer has come out of the closet (literally not metaphoricly... yet) to join the others since not writing and just waiting in the closet became boring. Once or twice one sat down to type up the next would-be post; only to lose heart or hit a mental wall then promptly delete it. All were in attendence, except one.

Liberius the Writer sat alone on the street curb a couple buildings away from the replaced front door of the Office. It was night outside, something that went unnoticed in the grimey windowless corner he normally sat in. The single streetlamp that stood solidly next to him was his only confidant in the cool nights breeze. LiberiustW hardly noticed, however. He was too busy thinking. Too busy fumbling with the age worn trinket he always carried in his one pocket.

===================================================

Liberius sat in the cramped backseat of the car. Captain Von Trufflesnout laid calmly on Lib's jacket next to him, sleeping and dreaming his doggie dreams. The brief excitment over Rachel disappering had passed when Al explained the April Fools Day Incarnation thing to everyone and that she would be back in due time. Much to Mia's lamentation of course. Al & Mia were doing their couple talk to eachother, yet again, and Liberius was left to his own thoughts. He thought about the Book, the one they were searching for. He thought about the plan. Not just the item quest, but the bigger plan. The one involving all of the parties.

He looked down to his open journal in his lap, the exposed entry being one of the few he bookmarked in his research into his past. The illustration of a woman stared lifelessly back at him. Her smile captured perfectly by his own hand, but the ink on the page paling in comparison to the lively woman in his memories. Without realizing it, he was absent mindedly fumbling with the ring on the chain in his pocket that Mia had relinquished to him. He rolled it along his fingers & turned it like a coin. Finally noticing what he was doing, he pulled the ring out to look at it. It was gaudy in the sense that the metal had been worn and faded. Whatever shine it once had had been lost long ago. Liberius thought to himself a moment longer then came to a decision. He grabbed the dangling ring with his free hand and slowly slid it on his finger, then...

Nothing. Trufflesnout raised his head from his slumber to look at Lib sitting there with the ring on his finger and the chain hanging down. Not finding anything of interest, he proptly fell back asleep. Al had turned in his seat to look in the back at Lib. He noticed the ring.

Al: Are you alright Liberius?

Liberius: Huh? What do you mean?

Al: I don't know. You looked kind of lost there for a second. That and you put the ring on.

Upon hearing that, Mia turned in her seat to look back as well.

Mia: He put the ring on? Really? Hey, Lib... You feel anything? Like, any amazing powers or something.

Lib: Um, no. Not really. I don't know, maybe it doesn't work.

Mia: Eh, don't worry about it. It didn't do anything for me either. Besides, only Writers can use it, remember?

Lib: Yeah, I remember. I figured I would at least try though. See if something... anything happened. Al, why don't you try it? I know you aren't a Writer or anything but hey, since Mia and I have tried why not you?

Al: Sure.

Lib casually slipped the ring off and handed it to Al who even more casually shoved it on one of his fingers.

Lib: Anything?

Al: Nope... wait... I think...

Everyone was silent except for Captain Von Trufflesnout snoring beside Lib.

Al: Nah. Nothing.

He took of the ring and handed it back to Lib.

Lib: Damn. I thought something happened with you at least.

Al: Nope. Nothing. I thought I felt something in my head there for a second, like a small headache. And wearing the ring reminded me of wearing a wedding ring. But then I figured that was why the whole headache thing happened.

Mia: Wait... You think marriage is a headache?

Al: Er, no? Well... yes, a little. It's fun until the whole actual being a married couple starts.

Mia: So you're saying you wouldn't want to get married to me?

Liberius tried to ignore the upcoming fight but couldn't help waiting to see the train wreck about to happen.

Al: Well... Yes... but... No? Not really. I mean, I like you. A lot. But married? Really? You don't think it's kind of extreme? You want to get married?

Mia: Hell. No.

Lib & Al: Wait... What?

Mia: All married couples ever do is fight. Do you know what the divorce rate is now? It's rediculous is what it is. Why would anyone want to go and ruin a perfectly good relationship with marriage?

Al: Then why did you get angry when you thought I felt marriage was a headache?

Mia: I didn't. I just wanted to know what you felt about it and I think it's kind of hot you feel how you do.

Al: You... are an amazing woman. And I think I'm starting to love you for it.

Mia: I know, right? And you're so perfect how could I not love it?! So why get married?

Al: If it ain't broke, don't fix it.

Mia: Exactly. Now get over here and kiss me you ****ing stud!

This, of course, left Liberius in an ackward position in the back seat. He was expecting one kind of train wreck and got a completely different sort. And now, having to sit in the back and face the over the top display of affection, he worried about the two of them keeping their eyes on the trail ahead.

Raij: Auto-pilot, engaged.

"Oh, no.." Liberius thought. He quickly returned to his introspective thoughts before he caught sight of something he didn't really want to see. To help keep him busy, he played with the ring a little bit more with his fingers. He went back to his journal and switched between writing in the current entry and reading one of the previous ones. All the while trying to ignore everything that he heard in the front seat.

===================================================

Geronimo sat with his cup of hot chocolate trying to calm down as Mimiru sat with her arm around him tring to be maternal and calm his sobs. Every now and then she would look up to give Cool Matty and Citizen Rex a 'How could you' stare. Each time CM and Rex would look down or away in shame.

Mimiru: Go ahead, honey. It's all right. They were just surprised, that's all. They didn't mean it. When you mention being sent to kill someone it typically catches people off guard. Do you get what I'm telling you dear?

Geronimo: Yes, ma'am. I didn't mean it, I swear. I didn't know what I was doing. Honest.

Mimiru: I believe you. I believe you. But I need you to explain it for me, okay?

Geronimo: Yes.

Mimiru: We need to hear your side of the story. This way we could all play nice.

Geronimo: I didn't know I was doing anything. Father sent me out on a delivery like usual. He owns the franchise and makes the pizzas and I do deliveries to help out. Just before I left the parlor the phone rang. Father answered then said it was for me. After he scolded me for taking personal calls at the shop I picked up the phone and the next thing I remember was landing on the ground with my tummy hurting from when that man kicked me.

CM: Then why did you kick me in the shin?!

Geronimo: Because you're a mean man and I don't like you!

Mimiru: Shhh, shhh... It's alright. He won't be mean to you anymore... Isn't that right, Matty?

CM: Yes, dear.

Mimiru: and neither will you Rex. Right?

Rex: I hardly see the poi...

Mimiru: Right?!

Rex: Yes, ma'am.

Mimiru: See? You're safe now. You can tell us. Do you know who was on the phone?

Geronimo: He calls sometimes. I met him once when he ordered a pizza, double pepperoni, triple cheeze, bacon, and mushrooms. When I made the delivery, he took me and did something to me. Now, whenever he calls it's like he takes control. I don't know what I am doing or how he does it, but it's like I become his puppet. Sometimes he makes me do bad things. He's even meaner than that man but I can't do anything to stop him.

Mimiru: Who is he? Do you remember at all?

Geronimo: His name for the pizza order was GUNTHER. He's mean. Father doesn't know. I didn't tell him because GUNTHER might do something to father and we need to keep working or we won't be able to have money or eat or buy clothes and stuff. That's what father says. So I don't want GUNTHER to take control of father. He's a bad man and father's a good man.

Mimiru: That's very kind of you, Geronimo. To worry and think about your family like that. That is very brave of you.

Geronimo: Thank you, lady. You're nice. I like you.

Mimiru: Thank you. But can you tell us anything else about him? I don't want to upset you anymore but if you can tell us anything you know, you would be helping us out a great deal. It would be very good thing.

Geronimo: I only know that he's very busy. He always says "He's a very busy man with lots of grown up stuff" or something like that. I remember when I delivered to his house he had a lot of peoples heads on a bunch of TV screens.

Mimiru: What do you mean?

Geronimo: Like they have on the news channels. Except they were all talking to him. To the mean man. When I walked in, it was like they all saw me and stopped talking. The TV can't see me can it?

Mimiru: No, dear. The TV can't see you. I think he was doing some kind of video thing on his computer. Did you hear anything that the people on the screens were saying? Did you recognize any of the faces?

Geronimo: Not really. But they were talking about all kinds of things. Plans and such.

Mimiru: Did you hear them talk about any of their plans?

Geronimo: Well... only a couple but I don't know what most of it meant. They used a lot of big words. What does 'compromised' mean? And what is a 'Mech'? And what does it mean if someone 'goes rogue'?...

=================================================

Losien: I give up.

Cris: Oh, come on now. Quiters never win. Just because Geb disappeared doesn't mean you still can't learn.

Losien: I just don't want to anymore. It's no use.

Cris: Just try harder. Here, do this. Put your arm here and turn this way...

Losien: I said NO!

As Cris moved it to help position Losiens body to help her train, she jerked against him. She pushed him away and with a strange pop and shockwave, he was sent sliding across the ground kicking up dirt in his trail. The dust slowly started to settle in the now thick air between them. The uptorn earth where Cris once stood was now replaced with a fresh patch of healthy daisies that were not there just seconds before.

Cris: The Montage! It's finally working!

Losien: No... Geb is gone. I really am the only main character now. I can... I can feel it. Now that I am trying and he is not here, not around me, it's different.

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

{NSP - I am writing the next one right now. It might take a minute because I have to stop give my dog a bath}

In the Massassi Writer's offices, Geb the Editor bursts out of his private office, the door slamming against the wall next to it drawing the attention of all - well, most - okay, some of the writers from their cubicles.

Geb the Editor: Okay, people, we need some major postage!

Cool Matty the Big Cheese: You planning to mail something big?

Geb the Editor: No, I mean posting on NeS!

JM the Egotist: Nah, we don't, cuz the whole point is to destroy the NeS.

Geb the Editor: No, your whole goal is to destroy the NeS through bad writing! So get writing!

Al Ciao, Card Carrying Member of Powerplayers Anonymous: In that case, I guess I'm exempted from writing.

Geb stares levelly at Al.

Al Ciao, Card Carrying Member of Powerplayers Anonymous: What?

Crisp, Chikin and Llama Enthusiast: Actually, Lib's in the middle of posting something. Or he said he was.

Geb the Editor: But he's not in his cubicle!

Al Ciao, Card Carrying Member of Powerplayers Anonymous: He's not?

JM the Egotist: No, he's not.

Cool Matty the Big Cheese: How could you not know that? His cubicle is right next to yours!

Al Ciao, Card Carrying Member of Powerplayers Anonymous: Hello, there's a wall between us.

Geb the Editor: There's a whole the size of Kilimanjaro in your adjoining cubicle wall!

Al Ciao, Card Carrying Member of Powerplayers Anonymous: I'm nearsighted?

Geb the Editor: More like you're so self-absorbed that you don't notice others unless you want them to write for NeS.

Al Ciao, Card Carrying Member of Powerplayers Anonymous: Geb, you wound me.

Crisp, Chikin and Llama Enthusiast: Do you deny the charges?

Al Ciao, Card Carrying Member of Powerplayers Anonymous: ...no.

JM the Egotist: Actually, I think Lib ran off cuz of Al's hounding him.

Geb the Editor: Well, he has a satellite linkup to our offices, so he can post no matter where he is! ...and then I'll fire him for leaving the premises without permission.

This useless episode of Survivor: The NeS Writers' Edition, brought to you by Acme(c) Dehydrated Water - just add water!

{NSP - Yeah, I totally ended the last one at the wrong point because I was in a hurry with my dogs. I was going to have LibtW back in the office for the last post but messed up on my mental layout for a moment. I was clearing it up in this post but Al got his in before I could finish, lol}

====================================================

Liberius the Writer stood up still lost in his own thoughts. He took the tattered trinket from his waistcoat pocket & played with it in his hand as he walked back to the office. Ignoring the stares some of the other Writers gave him in surprise he sat down and wrote his post. Stopping every now and then to roll the relic around in his hand & flip it around with his fingers like a coin. He finished his post and sent it. A few of the Writers went back to their spots to read what was new. LiberiustW got up and walked over to the coffee pot to brew some more. Al Ciao the Writer, holding back his anticipation to jump straight to reading the post like everyone else, came over to join him.

AltW: Are you alright Lib?

LibtW: Huh? Yeah, I'm fine. Why do you ask?

AltW: I don't know. I had been watching you since you came in and you kinda looked lost there. And you had been playing around with whatever it is you have in your hand there. What is it?

LibtW: Oh this? It's just an old ring from one of those gift sets. It helps me think sometimes. Smoking and drinking too much coffee are pretty bad habits. I do try to control myself. Sometimes at least, heh.

JMtW walks over to join the conversation.

JMtW: Nice bling. And I mean that sarcasticly of course. Mind if I see it?

LibtW: Sure.

He hands the ring over. JMtW takes it and takes a closer look.

JMtW: What does it say?

LibtW: It's one of those rings from one of those The Crow the movie gift sets that you could buy. The replicas from the movies. My girlfriend at the time loved the premise of the movie so I found the set that had the guy's and the girl's rings for us. But the metal was kind of cheap so it got worn out pretty bad when we wore them. I keep it because it helps me to remember.

AltW: Remember what? Her?

LibtW: Nah... don't really need help remembering that. Just... I wore it for so long and what it meant to me. It helps me to remember good times. To focus in on them. Also to help me not get so carried away in the bad things. To not let myself make the same wrong decisions again.

JMtW: Sounds like she messed you up pretty bad. She break your heart or something?

He handed back the ring to Lib. He looked at it for a moment, sitting in the palm of his hand, then decided to put it on. He nonchalantly placed it on his finger and went on. Grabbing his coffee mug and filling it up.

LibtW: Not technically no. We stayed together. She lost her ring or it broke or something. I kept mine.

AltW: Then what happened?

LibtW: We got married. Didn't really matter anymore but I kept mine anyway. It was a small ceremony. You could even say we eloped. I got her a new ring but we were poor so I just kind of used mine as a wedding ring.

JMtW: Sounds kind of strange.

LibtW: It's me. I'm strange. That's my thing. Also, I prefer the term 'unique'.

JMtW: Ok, sounds kind of 'unique'. So where is Mrs. Liberius Vir the Writer, eh? How come we haven't met her?

LibtW took a sip from his coffee and looked at the ring on his finger for a second.

LibtW: She got dead. I moarned then decided to move on with my life.

AltW: I'm sorry to hear that.

LibtW: Don't be. It happened a long time ago. Now if you don't mind, I have some more writing to get done before Geb finishes reading what I just wrote and gets mad at me again.

Liberius the Writer strolled over to his desk and started to type again.

=============================================

Cool Matty, Citizen Rex, and Mimiru sit and listen as Geronimo tells them the story of everything he's overheard over the years about GUNTHER, his schemes, and his evil empire. Geronimo told them, in his own words, how GUNTHER was at the head of a large collection of people with ill intent. The organization's grasp went deep and on a larger scale than what they could imagine. From what they could piece together, GUNTHER was an alias for someone they already knew. Someone powerful and who had intimate knowledge about the Never-ending Story. Not your basic "I want to take over the world" kind of villian. Someone who knew that the world would never be enough and what really mattered was The Story. The more they heard, the stranger the puzzle looked over all.

==================================================

In the cramped cabin of Raij, Mia & Al are up to things best left not described in the NeS and Liberius sat in the back petting his dog and trying to ignore those very things. Masterson's voice came over the car's com. link and broke into the ackward situation.

Masterson: Ma'am. We just received a transmition from Central. Arnie apparently had us on a manual blackout with most of the grid. They are asking a lot of questions and we are getting a lot of heat over here. We don't have all the answers either.

Mia found time to break away from Al's face long enough to respond.

Mia: What kinds of things are they asking?

Masterson: Mainly, why we all went rogue and what we are & were doing this entire time. Also, they want to know what happened to Arnie.

Mia: So why are you bothering me then? Why not just tell them? There is a reason why you were place as acting CO.

Masterson: Well, honestly ma'am, I don't think I've ever talked to these people. You have.

Mia groaned, then sighed in defeat. She moved back to her own seat and sat back.

Mia: Ugh, fine. Who's on the line?

Masterson: Fleet Captain Hatsby, ma'am.

Mia: Patch it through the com.

Hatsby: Acting Dockmaster Mia?

Mia: On the line. What can I do for you Fleet Captain?

Hatsby: JUST WHAT IN HELL IS GOING ON UP THERE?!

Mia cringed slightly at the sudden change in volume.

Mia: I'm sorry, sir. Could you clarify that request a bit. Things have gotten a bit crazy here as of late and I'm not sure what you want to know first.

Hatsby: Where the **** is Arnie?

Mia: The brig, sir.

Hatsby: And why do you have the appointed Dockmaster locked up?

Mia: Recent events and evidence shows that the Former Dockmaster had taken us off orders without the rest of the crews knowledge. He had total operational control and kept us all blind to the fact. He had the crew acting on trumped up commands falsely reporting that they were from Central, sir. We didn't even know we were off grid until he was put away.

Hatsby: Then how did you and your crew find out his true motives?

Mia looked at Al, then Liberius, then the dog and took a moment to plan her words.

Mia: He slipped up and implicated himself. I suppose the preassure had and paranoia something to do with it, sir. It was only a matter of time until it was bound to happen. Luckily, the well trained crew you left us was able to catch on it the moment he did slip. Hopefully you will believe me when I tell you, sir, that if we had any inkling of the truth before today, we would have caught it straight away. It just goes to show how blind Arnie had us flying.

Hatsby: Say I did believe you, Acting Dockmaster. Where were you getting your orders from? What was he telling you?

Mia: Arnie had us believing that there was a change with the liaison officer we had with Central. Lieutenant Jones was replaced. We got all our orders through Lieutenant Gunther.

Hatsby: There is no Lieutenant Gunther. There is just GUNTHER.

Mia: Who's GUNTHER, sir?

Lib and Al exchanged worried glances.

Hatsby: GUNTHER is something we don't talk about over open coms anymore. You've been off the grid a long time, Dockmaster Mia. There is a lot you don't know anymore.

Mia: I'm only the acting Dockmaster, sir.

Hatsby: Not anymore. The base needs one. It's in the new SOP. We're going to need to sort all this out. Dockmaster, I need you to ground all online mechs and wait for Central to send a debriefing crew out there. I want to know everything that has happened since your crew has been gone. If everyone of your crew clears, I can brief you on the current situation. Until then, your crew is to stand down all ops. Are we clear, or are we going to have a problem with this arrangement?

Mia: Crystal clear, sir. You will not have any resistance on our end. It's good to be back on the grid and hear the friendly Central voices again.

Hatsby: We'll see about that Dockmaster. Friendly is a hard word to come by these day. If you clear, I'll try to explain it to you first hand. Fleet Captain Hatsby, out.

The line went dead. Mia hit the button to kill the mic and everyone went silent again.

Lib: Hey, Al. Did you hear what I heard?

Al: Yeah... I think so... my baby just got a PROMOTION! WOOOO!

Mia: Yea, you bet I did. How about you and I celebrate!

Al: Yay!

Lib: *sigh* I was talking about the GUNTHER thing.

Captain Von Trufflesnout: Oh who care? Let the idiots celebrate for now. Reality can come a bit later.

Raij: Auto-pilot, engaged.

Lib: Really, guys? Again? You do know I'm in the backseat, right?

================================================

In the writing office, GebtW strolls over to LiberiustW.

GebtW: Sooo... Where've ya been?

LibtW: If I told you that I was taking my time to try and think about what I post next so I can make it a good one with big stuff in it would you believe me?

GebtW: That would be a first from you.

Ba-dumm-tchhh

GebtW: Yeah, I still got it.

AltW: What, that instant rimshot noisemaker you carry around in your pocket?

GebtW: WHY DO YOU ALWAYS HAVE TO GO AND RUIN EVERYONES FUN?

AltW: Not everyone, just you Geb.

Ba-dumm-tchhh

GebtW: THAT WASN'T EVEN FUNNY!

LibtW: Maybe you just don't know what funny is and it does.

GebtW: Not possible. Just how do you think I came to be editor, hmmm? Because I'm a great writer.

Ba-dumm-tchhh

GebtW: GHAAA!!! STOP IT! IT'S BROKEN!

LibtW: What's broken?

GebtW: NOTHING!

AltW: Then why do you keep setting yourself up for the punchline?

GebtW: I'm not setting myself up for anything!

LibtW: Really? That sucks because if you were it would totally be 'updock'

Altw: Yeah... Totally 'updock'

GebtW: Huh? What's 'updock'?

Ba-dumm-tchhh

AltW & LibtW: Nailed it.

They high five eachother over the cubicle wall victoriously.

GebtW: Come on guys. Seriously, what's 'updock'?

Ba-dumm-tchhh

Yet another high five.

GebtW: STOP IT!

JMtW, upon seeing people socialize without him, joins the group.

JMtW: Stop what?

GebtW crazily points his finger at him.

GebtW: YOU! GO POST SOMETHING! AND DON'T SAY A SINGLE WORD UNTIL YOU DO! NOT ONE WORD!

JMtW stood puzzled for a moment.

JMtW: Hows abouts plurals...?

GebtW's eyes widened. Everyone waited... Nothing but silen...

Ba-dumm-tchhh

GebtW: GHAAA!!! MAKE IT STOP!

He ran fleeing from the group.

JMtW: Ok, that was kind of awesome.

LibtW: You know he's totally going to make us pay for that later, right?

AltW: Worth it.

Then they all went back to their desks as if nothing out of the ordinary had happened. Because, to be honest, nothing out of the ordinary happens in the NeS. Even in the Writer's World. Liberius the Writer went back to his ongoing post.

================================================

Liberius Vir sat back in his seat. The couple up front finally found time to take a break and let Lib and the Captain out to use the bathroom. Of course, no sooner do they get back then everyone was back on the road... and Raij was driving himself... yet again.

Lib: Ok, this is starting to get rediculous.

Captain Von Trufflesnout: I've seen worse. Hell, I've done worse. I'm a dog. I can get away with all sorts of things in public that you can't. Like, there was this one time, I met this sweet piece of a stray collie. Fine looking bi...

Lib: Watch it, boss. You don't want the Censor coming down, trust me.

Trufflesnout: What? I'm an actual dog talking about a female member of my species. I'm not some 'Dawg' talking about a random 'ho'.

Lib: Where did you even learn to talk like that? We never talked like that around you.

Trufflesnout: No, neither of you did. She was a saint and you were... well... always the gentleman. Ecspecially around her. But you hear a lot of things you never did before when you're on the street. You know that. Remember after she died and you did your whole try to drink her away thing.

Lib: Can we move on?

Trufflesnout: Why? There's not much else to my story. I took her to the city park and BAM... right there infront of everyone. Mothers hiding their childs eyes, teen boys laughing and taking pictures, the whole nine yards. Since I'm a dog, I totally got away with it. It was great. But that's the end. You on the otherhand... You miss her, don't you.

Lib: Yeah. Some times more than others. Definately if something comes up to remind me about her.

Trufflesnout: You're not talking about the stuff in the front seat, are ya?

Lib: No, not the stuff... well, a little but that's a long story. Sure, I miss that, but I mean the other stuff. Just... you know... things that make me remember her and I. Sometimes it gets to me and makes me a little sad, that's all.

Trufflesnout: You mean like me, don't you?

Lib smiled at the dog and pet his head reassuringly.

Lib: Yeah, you remind me of her but seeing you doesn't make me sad. So don't think that I'm not happy you're back around.

Trufflesnout: I'm glad to be back too. I won't leave again.

Lib: I know. It's just... I don't quite remember everything. It's still all a bit hazey. Seeing you helped me remember a lot. And reading old entries in my journal helps a little. But there's still so much I can't recall. Like, what we were doing in that alley? Where did I go after that, when you weren't around? Then, what did I do after she... Even that, the actual event. I don't remember how she passed at all. I just remember being sad. The memories only come back in waves at best. And only certain things help me to remember.

Trufflesnout: Like the ring. That reminds you of something, doesn't it?

Very subtly Liberius nodded in agreement.

Lib: Yeah, Captain. It does. I don't know why, but it reminds me of the wedding rings we had. I can't remember the wedding at all, but I could remember wearing the band. How it felt, the weight of it on my finger. I remember wearing it for so long, but nothing else.

Trufflesnout: Try it on then.

Lib: You saw me try it before. There was nothing. No great epiphany, no flood of memories. No powers either. No 'breaking of the fourth wall' or whatever. It just won't work. I'm not a Writer, remember? It only works for Writers.

Captain Von Trufflesnout: Then try it again. Maybe that will help your memory, you never know. Like a daily action or something, maybe the repeated thing might help.

Lib: You're quite the little optamist, aren't you?

Trufflesnout: I didn't give up looking for you just because I couldn't find you the first place I looked. Or the second. Holding on to hope isn't always a bad thing. I did and when I did finally find you I found my vindication.

Lib: You learned that word on the street too?

Trufflesnout: No. You taught me that one.

Lib: Oh...

Trufflesnout: It's fine if you don't remember. But the least you could do is try.

Lib: You really want me to put the ring back on don't you? Will that make you happy?

Captain Von Trufflesnout wagged his tail involuntarily.

Liberius: Ok. Fine. Here goes nothing.

Then Liberius slipped the ring on his finger, dangling chain and all, then...





...







There was a sudden rush of air. Something like what happens when something really fast moves by close to you. Like cars on a freeway or a speeding train as you stand close to the tracks. Mia looked up distracted by it.

Mia: What was that? Did you feel that?

Al: Oh, I think you know what That was. Do you even have to ask at this point.

Mia smiled and looked back at Al childishly.

Mia: Awww... babe, I know what That was. But you didn't feel anything else?

Al: Nothing that seemed out of the ordinary... unless... um... should I have?

Mia leaned over to look around the seat and into the back.

Mia: Hey Liberius... Did you feel anything weird just now.

Trufflesnout: Other than the much welcomed cease to a rather uncomfortable rocking while moving car?

Al: Oh stop it! We're celebrating!

Trufflesnout: What this time?

Mia: Quiet you. I'm serious. Lib, you feel something?

In the back the pair of dog and man shrugged. Mia noticed something... or rather the absence of something...

Mia: Liberius, just what the heck did you do with my chain? You better not have thrown it away!

Liberius the Writer: What chain?

================================================

In the World of Writers, GebtW was busy going crazy and most of the other writers were hiding their laughter at it from him. All but one man. That was until, there was a sudden rush of air. Something like what happens when something really fast moves by close to you. Like cars on a freeway or a speeding train as you stand close to the tracks. In an office full of dust and loose leaf paper, such a gust does things. Sheets flipped up briefly the floated down to the floor or a desk chaoticly. A fine fog of filth filled the air. The direct beams of light that were shining in the office could clearly be seen in the cloud. A couple people coughed and a few turned their heads searching for an open window or door. The laugher immediatly ceased and everyone including GebtW were wondering what had just happened.




Liberius sat at the desk. The chain hanging from the ring on his finger made a scuffling noise on the keyboard infront of him. He glanced around the new surroundings. The noise caught the attention of Al the Writer and Geb the Writer. AltW merely peeked his head over the cubicle wall. But GebtW burst over, still a little red in the face.

Geb the Writer: Just what the heck is going on?!

Al the Writer: I don't know. Hey Lib... Did you feel that?

Liberius: Huh... So that's what they mean by 'The Fourth Wall'.

Ba-dumm-tchhh

{Last one of the day gentlemen (and somelady readers, of course). Just to tie up loose ends and cover my butt before Geb kicks it if I had broken one of the NeS laws. Sorry, I would post more but I'm being rushed off the computer at the moment.}

=====================================================

In the cramped car, Liberius the Writer sat with a mangy dog in his lap.

LibtW: Captain Von Trufflesnout...?

Trufflesnout: You catch on at all yet?

LibtW: The NeS... All of it. No place is safe?

Trufflesnout: Bingo.

LibtW: You just had to throw in a dog reference, didn't you?

Trufflesnout: There is more to the story.

Mia: Seriously, where's my chain?

LibtW looked to the ring on his finger. Nothing had changed for him. It was still the same ring. The familiar words wrapping around the band. He placed his fingers around it and pulled it off...

There was a rush of air...

Liberius sat in the backseat starting to get a little weirded out. The dog wagged his tail in his lap and the chain dangling from his finger.

Lib: I just learned something, didn't I?

Trufflesnout: Bingo.

Elsewhere, on a ridge overlooking a typically-hit-your-face-romantic valley backdrop lit by the morning sun, Rachel and Gebohq lie next to each other. As the scene starts, however, Rachel starts standing up, adjusting her dress and fitting her hat back on her head, while Gebohq tries to tame his russled hair.

Gebohq: Rachel, what just happened, I don't--

Rachel: Oh relax. Nobody saw us, the audience least of all. I protect the NeS now, remember? I obviously stole you away to battle you in the most critical fight of century, and you bested me. Everything will be fine.

Gebohq: So you'll be taking me back, then.

Gebohq stares at Rachel. He appears stronger, more heroic and confident, yet also weak as if strained of his soul. Rachel sighs.

Rachel: Of course. Let me just look over what I missed...

Rachel pulls out a script, which she skims through briefly. At one point, she hums to herself in thought.

Rachel: Actually, change of plans. Consider it my last underhanded card up my sleeve before you came to finish me off.

Gebohq: But I came way before--

Gebohq never finishes his sentence, however, as Rachel makes the both of them disappear in a puff of smoke.

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

In the cockpit of Mia's mech, designed with ideally a roomy space for one, changed from an already cramped company of three (four if you include Capt. Trufflesnout) into one more as Gebohq flopped on top of Al Ciao and Mia. Nobody was terribly happy about the turn of events.

Liberius Vir: Geb? Where's Rachel?

Geb: What the--oh, hi, Lib, Al... who's the woman?

Al: This is not the threesome I was secretly hoping for...

Mia: Get off of me already!

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

Scene change to where Losien and Cris B. are at the moment. In a dazzle of sparkles, Rachel appears before them.

Losien: Rachel? Where's my brother?

Rachel: Oh, I sent him to suffer with Al and that psychotic slut he picked up. Besides, it seems you've finally started becoming something worth a main character without him around...

Rachel strikes an aggressive pose towards Losien, motioning her hand to come forward.

Rachel: Let's put it to the test, new wielder of the NeS!

Cris B.: Oooo, a fight. Time to break out the goods!

Cris B. immediately turns around and starts selling tickets, chikin, and random merchendise to an already growing crowd of random spectators ready to fill seats in stadium seating that just appeared.

Losien: ...fuq.

Mia: Oh, there's my chain. 'S'all good. Actually, why am I worried about a little chain when I've the hotness here in my arms?

The car starts rocking again as she and Al start making out and... other stuff... A thought sparks in Al's brain, but he ignores it, because, let's face it, what's worth quitting a make out session for? However, Al is driven to prove his intelligence and worth apart from powerplaying, so he breaks away to speak his thought. (Of course, Mia treating him like a total studmuffin helps quite a bit.)

Al: Hey, Lib, I think I know what your name means.

Lib: Do tell?

Al: Yeah, "free man" or something like that, right?

Lib: Close enough. When did you pick up Latin?

Al: The study of classical literature was part of my upbringing in the royal household of Armenia.

A cricket chirps.

Al: Also, my Writer took a couple Latin classes in high school.

Cap (yes, that's my shorthand for Captain von Truflesnout Jr III - Captains America and Marvel, eat your hearts out!): There it is!

Al: I do know "vir" is Latin for "man". That's where we get the word "virile" from.

Geb: Cool, like the word "virus"?

Al stares levelly at Geb before sighing.

Al: No, Geb.

Mia: Oh! What about enVIRonment?

Al: Uh - right on, babe!

Geb: Seriously?

Al: Right, like you've never sucked up to Rachel.

Geb: Touche.

Lib: Well, Al Ciao, I think I know what your name means, too.

Geb: Oooh! I got this one. It means "I'm hurting food"!

A cricket chirps.

Lib: It's Al Ciao, not Ow Chow.

Geb: Are you sure? Cuz I could've sworn--

Lib: I'm sure. Anyway, I figure Al is short for Alexander, which means "helper of mankind"--

Mia: *her voice muffled by its proximity to Al's tongue* Oooh, and of womankind, too...

Lib: --so juxtaposing that with "ciao", Italian for goodbye, we get "goodbye, helper of mankind". I postulate that this is a statement about losing any hope for man or help from a greater power.

Al: *his voice muffled by its proximity to Mia's tongue* Actually, it's an old nickname people called me in middle school. It might've actually been Al Chow--

Geb: Aha! I'm half right!

Al: *still muffled* --but it was never spelled out, so I assumed the cooler spelling.

Cap: Wait, you went to middle school? I thought you grew up in a backwards Eastern European kingdom in the 1800s.

Al: Well, my writer went to middle school.

Geb: You seem to be identifying with your Writer a lot lately.

Al: Actually, he's identifying with me.

Geb: But why...?

A light dawns in his eyes.

Geb: Oh...

-----

JM the Writer: Uh, Al? Al?

Al Ciao the Writer jerks to attention, having been staring dreamily off into space at the computer screen.

ACtW: Shwa?

JM the Writer: You okay? You look a little lost there.

ACtW: Uh...

He thinks quickly and pulls a page from Lib's book.

ACtW: ...I'm just remembering this ring. It was from the Crow- Wait, that's been used. Uh, it was one of those fake "One Rings" that comes with a fancy Lord of the Rings bookmark.

JMtW: Yeah, what happened to it?

ACtW: Uh... she got dead?

JMtW: What?

ACtW: Yeah, that's what I said.

JMtW: You're making no sense at all.

ACtW: Neither is your idea of destroying the NeS through bad writing. The NeS thrives on bad writing. I think the only thing that might destroy the NeS is a good writer showing up and turning the NeS into something completely alien.

Naturally, this indirect insult incites the ire of the other writers, and they cart ACtW off to dunk his head in the toilet.

-----

As the car/mech continues to rock, Cap speaks up.

Cap: Hey, uh... are y'all using... you know, protection?

Al: Um... no, we're not. Didn't think of that. But you're taking birth control pills, right, Mia?

Mia: Are you kidding? Can't remember the last time I met a guy hot enough to go past second base with. I've been off them for ages. But you had a vasectomy done - right?

The tone in her voice suggested the length of his remaining life depended largely on his answer.

Al: Uh... yes?

Mia's expression quickly turns to panic, panic mirrored by Al.

Lib: Ah, don't worry. The usual laws of cause and effect don't work in NeS. You'll only get pregnant if a Writer makes it happen.

Mia & Al: Whew!

Lib: Of course, a Writer could decide to make it happen at any time.

Mia & Al's faces quickly switch back to panic-mode. They cling to each other for support, and the close physical contact fires them up, and they're soon going at it again.

Lib: Seriously?

Mia: In for a dime, in for a dollar.

Cap: So... is anything moving the plot along actually gonna happen in this post?

How about we take a look at some of the bad guys our heroes are presumably working to battle, starting with...Lucifer.

Lucifer: Call me Jim, Narrator. I reserve that name for when I'm on the job.

Are you saying you're not currently tempting some poor soul into doing evil?

Lucifer a.k.a. Jim: Well, sure, but that's for pleasure, not business. Let the next most evil guy in Hell run the place for a while, which I think might be Mark Pincus--no wait, he's not dead yet. Mother Teresa then? I don't know. Who cares. I got better things to do right now.

Like what? Pledge your power to JM for his soul? Torment the heroes? Bid for taking over more of the world on your own terms?

Jim: Something far more important: assassinate Justin Beiber and Rebecca Black.

Right. Uh, good luck with that? Let's see what Evil Geb is up to...

Evil Geb: o/` Gotta have my bowl, gotta have my cereal o/`--

Oh God! And where are your pants?

Evil Geb: --AHHH! Don't look at me! It's not what it looks like! I'm plotting evil here! Go away!

I think I might be scarred for life now. Let's turn to something far more family friendly, the Censor.

--VIEWING THE PLOTTING OF THE CENSOR HAS BEEN CENSORED FOR THE GOOD OF THE PUBLIC--

Ugh, why couldn't you have at least done your job when we went looking to see what Evil Geb was up to just now?

--POINTING OUT LOGICAL FLAWS IS CENSORED FOR THE GOOD OF THE PUBLIC.--

Whatever. Moving on, there's also the former Highemperor, acting as Citizen Rex with Cool Matty and Mimiru. Surely he's up to something evil!

Citizen Rex: The only evil I'm currently committing is allowing my good looks to tempt Mimiru into unfaithfulness.

Mimiru rolls her eyes.

Citizen Rex: And don't call me Shirley.

Make up your own jokes, for crying out loud! At least they seem to be taking care of the child, Geronimo, who seems to be unwittingly working for GUNTHER, who may or may not be someone familiar to the NeS. I cannot reveal anything about GUNTHER to the audience at this time, though, because he's blackmailing me with autopsy photos of--er--I've said too much already.

What about JM, the cornerstone of the current villains who have our heroes running about, though? What evil is he concocting to ruin the NeS forever?

JM: I know! If bad storytelling fails to ruin the NeS, I'll just introduce some good storytelling too! Or at least the perception of it. The inevitable inconsistency in quality and raised expectations of the audience will certainly break things down one way or another!

Uh-oh. I don't like where this is going...

JM: Hmm... but good storytelling is hard. How the hell am I going to pull that one off without having to do any work myself? This might take some research...

"Research" you say.

JM: By which I mean I'm going to play some video games and ignore the spills and scratches of decay-filled mass of pus-filled bloodink growing on my stuff.

You really should learn a little hygeine. At least we don't have to worry about Plot Incarnate trying to end the NeS at this rate?

On the movie set where Citizen Rex, Mimiru, and Cool Matty are discussing matters with Geronimo, the Director lets out a sigh of exasperation.

Director: Where the [smurfette] is Justin Bieber? He's our lead for this next scene!

Gofer: Uh, Director, sir, I hate to tell you, but, uh, it seems that Justin Bieber has been murdered.

Director: WHAT?

Gofer: Yeah, there are conflicting reports as to who did it. Some say it was the Canadian mob boss Jim Sevenicci, others say it was the Devil.

Citizen Rex, with his - of course - selectively enhanced hearing, overhears, and turns to the Director.

Citizen Rex: Hmm, I wonder if I should rejoice that the world is rid of Bieber or exact revenge on Jim for doing what I swore to do.

Mimiru: OMQ! Justin Bieber is dead?! Noooooooooooo!

Cool Matty: What? You're a Bieber fan? Seriously?

Mimiru: Of course! He's the total hotness!

Citizen Rex rolls his eyes.

Citizen Rex: Sometimes, I forget that, due to the nature of story time stretched over years of writing, you two are technically only 17.

Cool Matty: Oh, so Mr. Perfect forgot something, huh?

Rex realizes his mistake.

Citizen Rex: No, no, I was just saying - uh--

Cool Matty: Yeah?

Citizen Rex: It was, um, a figure of speech? Yes. Uh *ahem* I, Highemperor of All Existentessence-

Mimiru: *elbowing him* Citizen Rex, you mean.

Citizen Rex: --I, Citizen Rex, in my tragic humility have deigned to speak you in metaphors, for the truth of my greatness is so far beyond you that were you to gaze upon me in all my glory that you would instantly perish, therefore I speak you in parables, mythic speech encompassing the wisdom and language of the gods, like unto the runes of Mimir only far beyond any primitive Viking imagination.

Cool Matty: *whispering to Mimiru* I thought he couldn't powerplay since Evil Geb stole his powerplayability.

Mimiru: *whispering back* Oh, this isn't a powerplay, just an ego trip.

Citizen Rex is glaring at them.

Citizen Rex: Did you hear me?

Cool Matty: Oh, no, wise and mighty one, for we are not worthy to hear your words, nor wise enough to understand.

Citizen Rex: In your ignorance, you are truly wise-- Was that sarcasm?

Cool Matty: Yes.

Citizen Rex: Oh.

He plays the only ace left up his sleeve to extricate himself from this uncomfortable conversation. Getting the last word in is a lot harder when you think you can't powerplay.

Citizen Rex: Well, at least I don't like Justin Bieber!

Cool Matty: Oh, yeah - seriously, Mimiru?

Geronimo: Hey! Justin Bieber is cool!

Citizen Rex: *snickering* Was cool.

Geronimo: I wish I could be just like him!

Cool Matty: What, dead?

Geronimo: Mimiru, I thought you said he wasn't gonna be mean anymore!

Mimiru: Behave, Matty.

Cool Matty: Yes'm.

Geronimo: If I was as cool as Justin Bieber, I could attract girls as wonderful as [random female teenage pop star that Al Ciao the Writer is way too cool to have any knowledge of].

-----

Liberius the Writer: Nice. Covering your bases.

Al Ciao the Writer: Oh yeah.

Liberius the Writer: So you've never heard of, say, Billy Ray Cyrus' daughter?

Al Ciao the Writer: Hannah Montana? Of course... not...

He trails off, realizing his mistake.

Al Ciao the Writer: It's not MY fault one of her songs plays constantly on the soft rock radio station I listen to!

Liberius the Writer: True. At least you didn't go and download it.

Al Ciao the Writer: ...

Liberius the Writer: You did, didn't you?

Al Ciao the Writer: I plead the Fifth.

Ba-dumm-tchhh

Geb the Writer: YES! I've got it again!

-----

As our hero types and Geronimo argue, the Director is watching them in fascination. Finally, he cuts in.

Director: This is great stuff. Y'all have great chemistry. Ever consider a career in show business?

Mimiru: Er...

Citizen Rex and Cool Matty: YES! Hollywood here we come!

Director: I'm actually funded by Bollywood.

Citizen Rex: Eh, close enough.

Cool Matty: I will totally be the next Brad Pitt. Maybe I'll get to star alongside Angelina Jolie!

Mimiru elbows him sharply.

Cool Matty: I was totally speaking of Angelina Jolie metaphorically as you. Brangelina! Cool Mimiru! Or maybe Mimatty would work better...

Citizen Rex: You may be content with equaling those who have come before you, but I shall rise above all previous known heights! My story shall be more tragic as Marilyn Monroe, my stage persona more lovable than Shirley Temple, my handsomeness surpassing the beauty of Elizabeth Taylor!

Cool Matty: You realize that you just listed all women. That tells me something.

Geronimo: Elizabeth Taylor? Isn't she that wrinkly old dead lady?

Mimiru: Let's see. Marilyn Monroe, Elizabeth Taylor, Shirley Temple. You just became Justin Bieber.

Citizen Rex: What? Justin Bieber isn't a tragic figure!

Mimiru: He is since he was roasted by the Devil.

Citizen Rex: Crapcakes.

Director: *speaking to cameraman* Keep it trained on them, get me closeups. I have idea what they're talking about but it's great stuff...

These four are starring in the next blockbuster hit! Soon to be a minor motion picture, appearing in a theater far away from you!

Finally, after what seemed too short a time for Al and Mia, and WAAAAAY too long a time for Geb and Lib, the car/mech arrives back at the mech base. Oh, well, so much for going after the Book of Gold. Maybe later.

Mia: Alright, I guess I have to check our status updates now that we're back on the grid. Huh, look at that. There's a message saying that a powerful demon has escaped from Canada.

Al Ciao goes very still.

Al Ciao: High Imp?

Mia: Yes, how'd you know?

Geb: Actually, we've known since page 25...

Lib: Al, you sound like you know something about High Imp.

Al: I do. Quite a lot, actually.

Geb: Ooh, oh, so do I! I got this, Al! Lessee, he appeared way back when in the original NeS and shortly took over Canada, adding to Hell. Then he showed up leading a big demonic army at the big showdown on page 50 where Highemp and he - well, Al, you and he - basically, uh, killed each other?

Mia regards Geb skeptically.

Mia: Al doesn't LOOK very dead. Al, dear, is there something you need to tell me?

Al: I am NOT a zombie.

Mia: Okay, just checking. You'd be surprised how often that comes up.

Lib: Not very often?

Mia: Okay, so you wouldn't be surprised.

Al: I just got resurrected.

Geb: Right, when TLTE reappeared on page 8 or something of NeSquared, and you reappeared to balance him out.

Al: No, that was my third resurrection.

Geb: Oh, then you mean when the Writers resurrected you for a final battle against that alternate version of TLTE in Evil Geb's world.

Al: No, that was my second resurrection.

Cap: Dear WriterGod, man, how many times have you died?

Al: Um. Four? I think. I've lost count.

Mia: Al, honey, maybe you should share what you know about High Imp.

Al looks at all the expectant faces around him, and sighs as he dredges up old and painful memories. He begins to tell his tale.

Al: Back when I was Highemperor...

ATTENTION ALL READERS: This post is strictly backstory. If you are not interested in reading such a lengthy post, filled with romance and tragedy and melodrama in general, you may safely skip this post, as it will not be essential to your understanding of the rest of the story. However, I hope that if you are interested in finding out more about Al Ciao's past when he was Highemperor, you will enjoy this.

----------

Ancient Atlantis, circa 10,000 B.C.

Atlantis! Jewel in the WriterGod's crown, center of the greatest civilization in history, and famous for its banana-creme-filled Oreo knockoffs! Merchants fill the streets, selling the Oreo knockoffs as well as some of the sleazier ones selling knockoffs of the knockoffs. Don't get me wrong. They don't just sell cookies. Jelly doughnuts are also popular, as well as Wheaties. Don't ask me why. Maybe the salt air of the seaside induces Wheaties cravings.

You've heard of the Seven Wonders of the Ancient World? Well, Atlantis is even MORE ancient than that. In 10,000 B.C., all seven wonders of the Even More Ancient World are here! Most popular, of course, is the world's biggest pizza. I'm not kidding. It's an acre around and 10 feet high, with mushrooms the size of basketballs.

A less mundane wonder are the snowblossom trees that line the streets. Found only on the Atlantean continent, these beautiful trees - some say magical - are the symbol of Atlantean power and royalty. In bloom all year round, they have white leaves with blossoms colored gold and silver.

Anyway, I digress. Every last Atlantean knows that, in the dim mists of the beginning of time, the WriterGod had blessed 12 people and commanded them to found a city. These 12 people were a physician, a magician, a farmer, a merchant, and I forget what else. I think one of them was a cakemaker. And a butcher. Who knows? Anyway, these 12 people were direct descendants of the world's first man, which made them SPESHUL.

Of course, Atlanteans ignore the gaping hole in this logic - that EVERYONE is a direct descendant of the world's first man. They say that while everyone CLAIMS to be descended from the world's first man, no one can prove it - except the 12 founders of Atlantis. See, they actually have extensive genealogical records that were in no way recently forged. The fact that these genealogical records are on scrolls that are not at all yellowed with age just means that powerful magic has preserved them, right?

Recently, the wizards of Atlantis, led by the greatest of them all, Magistarr, summoned a being from the Writer's World - the Ancient One. The Ancient One, with the help of Magistarr and patronage of the young King Stafford, has gained enormous influence here. He has said that the blessing of the WriterGod upon the 12 founders of Atlantis has been passed down, and now there are 12 people now living with that blessing in their blood - bloodink runs through their veins, and they are to be the Illuminohqi, the Twelve Ohqs, dedicated to ushering in the age of the prophesied Neverending Story.

The Ancient One is the first Illuminohq. The second one discovered was the young woman Fay. The other ten have also been discovered, although the one you may most be interested in is Lord Simon, who is the direct ancestor of Erro Simon II, who in 1863 A.D. will become the last surviving Ohq - and his direct descendants are the present day Gebohq Joseph Anne-Marie Simon and Losien Simon.

The noble Atlantean count Desmond has been charged to be the Hand of the Plot, to protect and guide the coming story. To this end, he has found the Champions of Atlantis, greatest super-team in history!
First to join were Ares, young god of war, Magistarr, history's greatest mage (Merlin, eat your heart out!), and Adai Theos, world's strongest and possibly most intelligent man, whose origins are shrouded in the mists of the even more ancient past. After that, Highemperor joined in as well (oh, and Josephus, inventor of the flushing toilet and founder of the revered Order of Janitors).

You see, Highemperor was originally King Emp XIV of Armenia in the late 1800s A.D., before he gained his powerplaying abilities and started traveling throughout time and space. At this point in time he has journeyed back to ancient Atlantis and joined the Champions. He is VERY interested in the existence of bloodink...

But the Champions are to be joined by possibly the greatest champion of all...

Highemp: Hum-de-dum-doo, whee, I'm flying around and generally impressing people with my general awesomeness.

Er, Highemp?

Highemp: Yes, oh puny and insignificant Narrator?

You ever hear of the phrase, Show, don't tell?

Highemp: Should I have?

Obi-wan rip-offs won't make it any less cool.

Highemp: What do you know? I, HIGHEMPEROR, am the coolest, awesomest, most powerful yet most humble being on the face of the earth. No, the universe! No, the MULTIVERSE! No, wait, the--

Yeah, yeah, we get the idea.

Highemp: You'll see. Just wait until my plans for forging bloodink into the greatest force of the NeS and then usurping its destiny are fulfilled...

What was that?

Highemp: Um... just wait until my plans for baking a pizza even larger than the First Wonder of the Even More Ancient World are fulfilled?

Oh, yes, I definitely will! Mmmm, pizza...

Magistarr: Highemperor, there you are. I'm sensing--

Highemp: Yaaah! Where did you come from?

Magistarr: I flew up from the Sorcerer's Dome to talk to you. You would have seen me coming for miles, except the Narrator was too busy dreaming of pizza to mention it.

Highemp: Right.

Magistarr: I'm sensing a coalescence of astral flux converging here in Atlantis!

Highemp: Well, duh. Isn't Atlantis on, like, 20 ley lines?

Magistarr: This is different.

Highemp: Really? *cough* Um, I mean, I knew that. I, HIGHEMPEROR, have also been aware of these awesome energies coming into--

Magistarr: Right then. So you know it means that something is going to appear right on top of you.

Highemp: What--?

At that moment--

Magistarr: Oh, good of you to join us again, Narrator.

Glad someone appreciates me. As I was saying, at that moment, a blinding white flash appears through the sky, blanketing the whole city in light for a long moment.

Highemp: Hey, super-flashy entrances are my schtick!

When the light clears, an awesome being is floating in the sky in front of Highemperor and Magistarr. A six-foot tall masculine figure, with blonde hair and blue eyes, clothed in shining white tunic and trousers that look like they might have been woven of spun sunlight with a touch of the aurora borealis thrown in for a shimmer. A halo of light crowns his head. His most striking features are the six wings sprouting from his back. Each as long as he is tall, they are composed of white feathers and studded with many eyes.

Magistarr: Greetings, astral visitor. How may we of Atlantis serve you?

Highemp's eyes flash at the suggestion of 'serving' anyone, except maybe on a platter, but consoles himself with the thought that he is not truly of Atlantis.

Many-Winged, Many-Eyed Visitor: Salutations from the Seven Celestial Spheres, good mage. I am High Angel, cherub of the first rank and avatar of the Lightside.

Highemp snorts.

Highemp: A cherub? Aren't you supposed to be a little baby with tiny wings then?

Magistarr: Highemperor! Did you hear him? The Lightside! The combined incarnation of history's greatest heroes, champions, and chosen ones!

Highemp turns a somewhat avaricious eye on High Angel.

Highemp: You don't say? Destiny and power...

High Angel: Not for the likes of you, sir.

Highemp's eyes narrow.

Highemp: Everyone focuses on the champions and chosen ones of the legends and tales, but no one ever asks - who chooses the chosen ones? I shall become such a chooser, a lord over fate.

High Angel: Only the WriterGod may determine such a thing.

Highemp: Pretentious two-bit toady!

High Angel: Blasphemous miscreant!

Highemp: Twenty-eyed - uh, twenty-three-eyed - uh, thirty-- Many-eyed freak!

High Angel: Jerec's-costume-wearing rip-off!

Highemp: Jerk!

High Angel: Pratt!

Highemp: Welshman!

High Angel: Corellian!

Highemp: You want a piece of me?

High Angel: Go for it, you homosexual donkey lover!

Drynyrn, Highemp's blazing white sword of crackling power, has appeared in the powerplayer's hand, with silvery electricity sparking in his other hand, while High Angel has summoned a flaming blade, his many eyes glowing white-hot with barely restrained energy.

At this point, desperate to avoid a battle that might sink Atlantis into the sea many years ahead of schedule, Magistarr cuts in.

Magistarr: Cut it out, you two. Honestly, that Jerk-Pratt-Welshman string of insults hasn't even been invented yet! And why--

He cuts off suddenly, as something sinks into his brain.

Magistarr: Wait a second. Narrator, what was that about Atlantis sinking into the sea?

What? Have you got bat dung in your ears?

Magistarr: Oh, yeah, that might be it. Being a mage, I have to work with such unsavory spell components, and they get EVERYWHERE!

Highemp and High Angel have sheathed their weapons, but still glare at each other.

Highemp: So, why are you here, then?

High Angel: I have been sent by the WriterGod to represent his hosts in the Champions of his thriced-blest city Atlantis...

Magistarr: Swell. Just what we need. These two on the same team, going at each other's throats...

-----

Years pass. Highemp and High Angel still don't really like each other, but at least they tolerate each other's presence. Together with the other champions they battle sundry threats. All the Champions are mighty and powerful, but Highemp and High Angel are the true stars, the greatest of the great, and naturally a rivalry is birthed between them. And things go relatively smoothly...

Until the day when Helebon, steward of the damned in Hell at the behest of the WriterGod, rebels, refusing to stay in Hell, because he wants better for his family - his wife, the angel Ariana, and his son Satan, who currently has a job at Atlantis' Evil Mattress Discount Stores outlet.

Atlantis is centrally located in a locus between Heaven and Hell, given its prominent astral influence, so Helebon's demonic hordes are assaulting the city on the celestial path towards storming heaven's gates.

Highemp: *as he incinerates a horned demon with an energy blast* Hmph. As a powerplayer, I could snap my fingers, and this entire demonic army would dissolve into dust.

High Angel: *as he decapitates a bull-headed demon* You talk big, Highemperor, but you rarely back it up.

Highemp: Why you--!

Years of self-control finally collapse. Highemp turns on High Angel in fury, a sudden gale-force wind ripping around him, flapping his voluminous black cloak behind him, and dark clouds swirl instantly over the city. Thunderbolts as thick as towers stab into the ground, shattering buildings. As the eldritch wind blasts into the demons, their flesh slowly dissipates into dust as they bleat in terror, running for a safety that cannot be found. Pillars of flame erupt from the ground, destroying hellish siege engines in a flash. A smoky aurora of deadly potency explodes outward from Highemp's form. High Angel staggers in the air, but continues to face Highemp defiantly. A gigantic thunderclap blasts through the air in the explosion's wake, leveling the heart of Atlantis, buildings, Atlanteans, and demons alike. Highemp speaks, and his voice is strange and terrible.

Highemp: You dare question my power? I am the Grand Highemperor of All Eternity! The Ultimate Powerplayer! I have restrained myself all this time for one reason and one reason only - my Writer has plans! But I could destroy you all with ease!

High Angel: Oh, please, not the old "I launch a million nukes at everything in the universe" saw. Nukes haven't even been invented yet.

More power pours outward from Highemp. For those with the senses or instrumentation to see it, the fabric of space and time begin collapsing. Every last demon is swirls of dust scattered to the winds. A voice reaches through the thunder.

The Ancient One: Highemperor! Stand down, or I and my fellow ancient writers shall stand you down.

Highemp: Would you test your power against mine? You know what happens when the other writers try to rein in a determined powerplayer. The story crashes and burns around them. Would you risk that, risk the destruction of your precious Neverending Story before it ever begins?

The Ancient One: I have no choice. As it stands, you will destroy it anyway.

In a flurry of posting, the ancient writers and Highemp - his Writer's spirit posting on his behalf - duel in white text on green background. Containments are made by writers, only to have Highmp negate them with responses such as, "That never happened!" or "I was only pretending to be defeated!" One writer gets so incensed at Highemp that he starts flaming him and is promptly banned. Other writers flee from the rapidly deteriorating story. Finally, only the Ancient One and Highemperor himself are left slugging it out. And at last even the Ancient One falls, driven from his own story.

The NeS has collapsed, stillborn, around them. In a void of white, only Highemperor and High Angel remain, facing each other.

They are silent, simply staring at one another. For a moment? For ever? In this timeless story-less oblivion, it's impossible to tell. At last, Highemp raises a hand, and time rolls back, and it all reverts to just before Highemp snapped at High Angel's comment.

The battle still rages around them. No one is aware of what just happened. Except for these two. Highemp and High Angel continue to stare at each for a long moment--

Then the tension breaks, and they collapse into fits of helpless laughter.

Nearby demons, hardened by their years in hell, flee at this unsettling display.

-----

More years pass. Helebon has been defeated, imprisoned in the newly created Tenth level of Hell, his son Satan being given the job of ruler. Highemp and High Angel are comrades, as diverse as night and day, yet now inseparable.

Then one day, High Angel drops a bombshell on the Champions of Atlantis.

High Angel: I am leaving.

Adai Theos: What?!

Magistarr: You can't!

High Angel: I must. The WriterGod has recalled me to the pearly gates.

Ares: Awesome, now I don't have to put up with your goody-two-shoes lectures about unnecessary violence.

Everyone looks at him.

Ares: What? I am the god of war.

Highemp: I am sorry to see you go, friend.

High Angel: As am I. But it seems that the WriterGod has other plans for me... and for Atlantis.

The Ancient One is troubled.

Ancient One: *murmuring* What does this bode for our city?

Highemp: This is as good a time as any to say - I'm leaving, too.

Magistarr: WHAT?!

Josephus, First Janitor: You can't BOTH leave.

Highemp: I've completed my schemes in this time to foster the destiny of bloodink in order that I may usurp it later in history. It's time for me to once again journey throughout time and space.

Adai Theos: What was that?

Highemp: I said, it's time for me to once again journey throughout--

Adai Theos: No, before that.

Highemp: "I'm leaving, too."

Adai Theos twists his lip wryly. He knows full well what Highemp has said, but chooses to keep his own counsel.

And so the two prepare for departure. A last celebration is given for them, a public one for all Atlantis to bid them farewell, then a private one just for the Illuminohqi and the Champions. Finally, High Angel and Highemp leave, sideslipping into a separate plane, and they turn to bid each other goodbye.

High Angel: Highemperor, you are a noble soul. I have been proud to call you friend.

Highemperor: And you, High Angel, are a hero I have come to respect. I will remember you as I travel throughout all the stories.

High Angel: And who knows? The WriterGod may see fit that we meet again.

Highemperor: *smiling* This is a story. No goodbye lasts forever...

-----

Soon after the two greatest Champions leave, Atlantis is still the greatest city on earth, destined to rule the world forever--

Random Audience Member: Hey wait a second! Didn't Solon of Athens mistranslate the Egyptian information on the legends of Atlantis, and that, properly translated, the legends describe Crete?

This paradox completely undermining Atlantis's state of existence, the entire continent collapses into a giant plothole.

The Ancient One escapes into the dreamstate, however - and others escape as well - where he sees twelves eagles soaring, an omen.

Ancient One: 12, each one a millennium. It shall be 12,000 years before the NeS is born. Very well. I shall wait...

-----

Nearly 12 millennia later, in the year A.D. 1873, High Angel is roaming the earth. Over the past eons, he has served the WriterGod faithfully, journeying across the universe on missions, wherever the Lightside within him is called to go. Now he has been given some free time, which he uses to wander the beauty of the seat of humanity.

Winging invisibly over Armenian forests, he suddenly senses a great and terrible grief - with something familiar behind it.

He swoops down, finding a little palace, where he passes through the walls, following the scent of familiarity and sorrow, until he comes to a magnificent bedchamber, where an old friend holds the corpse of a lovely woman in his arms.
High Angel: Highemperor...?

He is inaudible and invisible except to those with heightened powers or abilities or senses, such as Highemperor has. Yet Highemp is not aware of him. And suddenly High Angel realizes that this is the young Highemp, before he ever became Highemperor and began his time-spanning journeys across the cosmos. But this... he never knew about this tragedy.

King Emp XIV: Harem Girl #87...

His voice is broken. An extremely odd and unsettling tone to hear in the voice of one he knew - er, will know - whatever! - to be supremely confident and in control.

High Angel: I... I never knew. He never told me. A woman he loved, whom he didn't know he loved until she was gone.

He calls up a cry to the heavens, knowing his lord, the WriterGod, will hear him wherever he is.

High Angel: Oh my WriterGod! Spare him this fate! Give me leave to journey back a few minutes and prevent this!

But the gentle whisper of the WriterGod within his soul refuses. The spirit of Highemperor within the future of King Emp XIV has ordained this tragedy unto himself by his own hand. His Writer has plans for him.

High Angel: Then let me be his guide and protector! Let me be his guardian angel from this day forth! Though he never knows me to be here, let me walk beside him and share his pains and joys, and shield him from what barbs of fate I may.

The WriterGod assents, and from that moment, High Angel forsakes all other duties, cleaving to the side of the man who will be his friend in the past, who never knows he is there.

Until 1898. By this time, King Emp XIV has joined a team, the League of Heroes. They do not hold a candle to the ancient Champions of Atlantis, being neither near as powerful, nor as effective, nor well-known. Yet they have a quiet nobility. Leader and founder of the League, and King Emp's best friend, is Erro Simon II.

But in 1898, Erro perishes.

This final grief is too much for King Emp to bear, and even High Angel cannot relieve him of it, despite his silent ministrations. King Emp claims the powerplaying potency latent within him, and becomes Highemperor. His newly heightened senses allow him to catch a glimpse of High Angel, and briefly wonder who he is, before dismissing him and vanishing into the omniverse.

High Angel no longer has his charge. With a heavy heart, he returns to heaven, seeking solace in the joys of paradise. Whenever the spirit of Lightside within him is needed, he sends out an avatar in his place.

But finally, he returns to the earth, roaming to and fro, upholding heroes of every stripe who need the power of Lightside and all the heroes who have gone before.

Until 1995. He flies over a small island, when he sees a beautiful woman. Short, clad in a white gown dappled with pearls and silver filigree, with long chocolate hair and soulful eyes, she sits beneath a strange and wondrous tree.

And then High Angel recognizes this place. The seat of the heirs of Atlantis. This tiny island, thrust up from the ocean floor when Atlantis sank, became the refuge of the last survivors of the royal house of the Atlantean kings. And the bloodline continued throughout the ages, kings and queens only of a tiny isle, until now. This woman. This princess.

Alole.

Sitting beneath the last snowblossom tree in the world, she passes her days singing to the birds. Yes, it's a rip-off of your typical Disney princess. So what? At least she isn't animated.

Well, some guys - otaku and so forth - like animated girls. But High Angel is not, at least as far as we know, an otaku.

Anyway.

Alole's parents have died when she was young, and she is alone on the isle except for a few servants. Oh, and the animals. Well, and all the grub and insects and bacteria and-- Okay, so she isn't really alone at all, but you know what I mean.

Fascinated, High Angel watches her. He comes back every morning and leaves every evening. He is enchanted by her beauty and gentleness. Her pop star voice might have had something to do with it too.

One day, he reveals himself to her. At first appearing only as a normal man in a white tunic and trousers, without the wings and all the glowing light effects, he greets her.

High Angel: Hello, fair Alole.

Alole: Oh my! Hello. Where did you come from?

High Angel: I... I was passing by a while ago and could not help hearing your voice. I have been listening every day since then.

Okay, while a speech like this in the real world would have earned him a restraining order - because, seriously, stalkers are creepy - this is a romance, and is considered the kind of thing out of knightly chivalry.

Alole: *smiling shyly* Well, you are welcome to come and listen every day. You need not hide.

He does not give her his name, and she lets this pass. But she notices how all the animals are drawn to him. This fascinates her; she has never seen anything like this. Even with her, it's her voice that draws them. But for him, simply his presence attracts the beasts and birds of the wild.

Of course, she doesn't know that this is because he's an angel.

And so the days pass, until High Angel has completely and irrevocably fallen in love with Alole. So he decides to reveal his true identity to her.

High Angel: Alole, there is something I must tell you.

Alole: You're gay?

High Angel: I - what?

Alole: You're the first man my age I've ever seen on this island in my whole life, and we sit and talk every day, yet you've never made a move. You've GOT to be gay. I'm a Disney princess rip-off, for crying out loud! I'm so beautiful that every man who sees me falls in love with me!

High Angel: I'm not gay. But I AM in love with you.

Alole: ...oh. Cool.

High Angel: But I've not told you who I am.

Alole: Yeah, I figured that must be because you have a boring name, like Bob. Or maybe a weird name, like Cyrano de Bergerac. It's okay; it's not Prince Charming's name that matters.

High Angel: My name is High Angel.

Alole: Weird. Isn't Angel usually a girl's name? Oh my God, you're not a transvestite, are you?

High Angel: Dear WriterGod, when did you become so flighty?

Alole: I'm just reading the script. I think the Writer's trying to break up the melodrama with humor.

High Angel: Well, my name is High Angel, because... I'm an angel.

He drops his glamer, and begins to glow. As Alole's eyes adjust, she sees his true form.

Alole: Oh! You're... beautiful.

High Angel grimaces.

High Angel: I'd prefer "handsome".

Alole giggles.

Alole: That, too.

High Angel: Alole, I love you. I will give up my immortality, renounce my place in heaven, to spend the rest of days courting, marrying, and loving you.

Alole is quite overcome, her feelings an unsorted morass within her. She doesn't know what to say.

High Angel: Just say you'll let me spend the days with you, just as we've done. I will court you. You don't have to promise me any more than that.

Alole smiles shyly.

Alole: Okay... High Angel.

High Angel renounces his immortality and his place in heaven, which means he loses the whole glowy-lights special effects, including the halo. He is allowed to keep the power and spirit of the Lightside within him, however, till the day his now-mortal form becomes dust; then it shall pass to a new bearer. Most importantly, he gets to keep the wings. He's still an angel, just a mortal, earthbound one.

He is delirious with happiness. He and Alole decide to throw a ball, introduce him to all the royal high-rollers of the world. Well, Europe anyway. They're the only royalty that matters. Well, maybe not MATTERS, since most royal houses are now essentially for show, with the governance in a duly elected body, but they're CELEBRITIES anyway, and that's what counts.

Alole knows many of these barons and princes and ladies and duchesses. But High Angel has no one to invite. He wishes he could share his joy with someone... someone like Highemperor.

As soon as he acknowledges that wish, his senses suddenly alert him to the fact that Highemp has returned to this present time, having come to the end of his time traveling and cosmic journeys.

Taking wing over the ocean, he comes to a radar-invisible stronghold that resembles a metallic castle floating the sky. Landing in the courtyard, he is met by Highemp, who has sensed his approach.

The two old friends stare at each other, then break out into grins.

Highemp: High Angel! You old dog!

High Angel: You jerk!

Highemp: You pratt!

They both laugh, and clasp hands.

Highemp: It does my heart good to see you again, buddy.

High Angel: Mine, too. But I have wonderful news I must share! I have fallen in love.

Highemp: Really? I should have known the seraphelles would be throwing themselves at you.

High Angel: Actually, she's a mortal. A princess.

Highemp furrows his brow.

Highemp: I thought love between angels and mortals was forbidden...

High Angel: It is. I have given up my immortality for her. We are courting. And we are throwing a ball on her island now!

He explains in detail, and invites Highemperor to come. He gladly accepts.

Soon enough, it is the evening of the ball. Alole is resplendent in her fine white gown dappled with pearls and silver filigree. The observant reader may note that this is the same outfit she's been wearing since the day High Angel spotted her. That's because she's a Disney princess rip-off, and Disney princess rip-offs never change outfits. For that matter, neither do NeS characters. So she's in good company.

She has escaped from the press of the crowd momentarily, when she catches sight of a new arrival. It's a tall man, six feet in height, just like High Angel. His hair is shoulder-length black curls. His eyes are piercing sapphire blue. He wears a black tunic and trousers and boots, with a red sash and shoulder pauldrons. An ankle-length red-lined black cloak flows from his shoulders.

She sucks in her breath at the sight of him. High Angel was pretty much the first man her age (or who at least LOOKED like her age, since he'd turned out to be an ancient angel) she'd ever seen, but THIS... this is the handsomest man she's ever seen, of any age - and he looks to be her age, too! An aura of passion and power, destiny and desire, tinged with ancient sorrow, clings to him like a cologne, and its scent wafts over to her and intoxicates her.

Highemperor steps into the ballroom, looking around. He sees his friend's six white wings clearly visible across the crowd on the other side of the room, and, smiling, begins to make his way through the revelers and around the center of the ballroom floor, where couples are dancing.

That is when he sees her. The most beautiful woman he's ever seen since... since Harem Girl #87. Luscious brown hair flowing to her waist, a face fair as the moon, with eyes like milk chocolate. Her dress has been described twice before, so think again if I'm going to describe it a third time. And for the last time, Random Audience Member #28, I am not going to give you a detailed description of her assets! Pervert.

Anyway, Highemp is struck by this mysterious and beautiful young woman. The distance between them melts, and neither one is clear who walked over to whom, only that they are now next to each other. For a moment, they just stare at each other. Fascinated by the quiet power radiating off him, touched by the subtle grief always etched in his expression, Alole reaches a hand to his cheek, and her touch is cool flame upon his face.

High Angel: Hey, I see you two have already met!

Alole's hand jerks away from Highemp's face, but High Angel has not noticed anything.

Alole: What?

Highemp: High Angel, my man! Where's your lady love?

High Angel looks at them oddly.

High Angel: Highemperor, meet Alole. Alole, Highemperor.

The princess and the powerplayer turn to each other, eyes wide at the startling realization of each other's identity. Highemp takes her limp hand and raises it to his lips.

Highemp: Enchante.

High Angel: Wait till you hear her sing, Highemp. She will totally knock your socks off!

Highemp's metaphorical socks have already been knocked off, of course, but High Angel is oblivious. Love either makes you jealous or blind, and it's obvious which one High Angel is, now isn't it?

High Angel leads a still-in-shock Alole away for a dance, and then he is pulled away by the various nobles, who are still fascinated by the idea of a mortal angel - or at least a six-winged freak anyway. Highemp has watched the dance before looking away.

He is soon startled by a soft touch on his shoulder. He turns to see Alole. Her luminous eyes are wide with a kind of breathless wonder, and her voice is almost shy.

Alole: May... May I have this dance?

Highemp opens his mouth, then closes it. He desperately wants to, of course. But his friend...

Highemp: You... you are promised to High Angel.

Alole sighs. Is that guilt he hears in her tone?

Alole: I agreed to let him court me. I didn't really know what I was feeling for him. He was the first man my age - well, who looked my age - I had ever seen, much less taken an interest in me. Seeing you now, I know that what I feel for him is not love, only deep friendship.

Highemp is torn. But his soul is weary. He has lost too many friends, too many people he has cared about. The only friend he has left is High Angel, and now even he is mortal.

Highemp: Alole, I am old, ancient beyond reckoning, older than you will ever become. I am... I have lost too much.

Alole takes his hand.

Alole: Then become young again with me.

They melt into each other's arms, twirling about the floor in a waltz as Beethoven's 'Moonlight Sonata' plays. They are aware only of each other's eyes, gazing into the other's, the feel of their hands entwined, their bodies touching. They are floating on air, dancing on clouds.

They pause after a twirl, and Alole's head tilts back, her lips parted.

Alole: Highemp...

Then the song ends, and the spell is broken. Highemp, with a heavy heart, pulls away from Alole.

Highemp: This can never be. My friend loves you. You are promised to him. And I... I can't.

He turns away from her, through the crowd, heading out of the ballroom. As he walks away, Alole speaks quietly, knowing he can still hear her.

Alole: I will wait for you...

-----

That night, after the ball has ended, and the partygoing nobles have all left, and after the scrupulously ethical High Angel - he IS an angel, after all - has bid her goodnight, Alole walks out to the garden, where the last snowblossom tree is. Standing near it, she stares up at the full moon, her arms wrapped around her body.

She hears a whisper of movement behind her, and turns to see Highemperor, his dark clothing rendering him nearly invisible in the shadows, even with the moonlight. She says nothing, but waits for him to speak. At last he does.

Highemp: No one... no one has ever called me Highemp before. Sure, the Narrator always does, but... to everyone I am Highemperor, a title, one I gave myself, but a title nonetheless. Not a name. You made it a name.

The distance between them melts once again, and they are standing beneath moon, holding each other's hands.

The song "Everything" by Lifehouse begins playing as a soundtrack to the scene. Nevermind that it has not yet been recorded in 1995.

You are the light

Highemp: My name. Say my name again.

That's leading me

Alole: *smiling* Highemp... Highemp...

To a place

He buries his head in her hair, and she holds him close.

Where I find peace

Alole: Reclaim your youth with me... please.

Again

Highemp: How can I...

How can I stand here with you

Highemp: ...not be moved by you?

And not be moved by you

Alole whispers in his ear.

Would you tell me

They pull each other to the soft grass.

How could it be

And their lips meet.

Any better than this

The moon beams down its approval upon their young love in the night.

Cause you're all I want
You're all I need
You're everything
Everything

-----

Later, as they lie in each other's arms beneath the moon and the branches of the snowblossom tree, Highemp murmurs to Alole.

Highemp: Never will I leave you, Alole.

She touches a hand to his cheek.

Alole: Nor I you.

She snuggles in closer to his side, and they stare up at the moon and the stars.

Alole: There's an old Atlantean story - a myth, really, passed down to me, that my mother told me when I was little.

Highemp: Tell me.

She begins to speak in a musical tone, one fitting to the story and the setting. Her voice, indeed, is beautiful.

Alole: The Sun and the Moon lived in the sky, and when the Sun saw the Moon, he longed after her. But the Moon did not love him, and fled from his embrace. That is why the Sun follows the Moon across the sky.

Highemp strokes her hair as she continues.

Alole: But one day, the Moon came to a palace on the edge of eternity. Seeking sanctuary, she found the palace's lord - the God of Passion. Passions of desire, love, inspiration, creativity, lust, light, and laughter. The passion-god granted her sanctuary from the Sun's pursuit, and she... she fell in love with him.

Her voice, already soft, has become softer.

Alole: The passion-god returned her love, and their passion made all the world brighter... for a time.

Highemp: What happened?

Alole: The Sun found them. A ferocious battle began between the Sun and the passion-god.

She falls silent. Highemperor asks his question after a moment.

Highemp: Who won?

Alole: According to the myth, the passion-god did, and he and the Moon still live together, happily ever after. But... if you look up in the sky, the sun still follows the moon, day after day.

They are both silent. Highemperor feels a strange sense of foreboding, but it cannot penetrate the warmth of the love flowing through his body.

They fall asleep, holding each other for the rest of the night.

-----

In the morning, as dawn's light barely begins to break, they stir. Once they are standing again, Highemp turns to Alole.

Highemp: I have a gift for you, Empress.

Alole: I am empress of nothing.

He takes her hand.

Highemp: You are empress of my heart.

He closes his eyes for a moment, and when he opens them again, they are glowing pure radiant white. Alole feels an energy, like a glow, brushing past her, and then she sees.

Shoots are sprouting out of the ground in a circle around them and the snowblossom tree. The shoots quickly became saplings, then full-sized trees, and - as the sun's light spills over them - bloom into white and silver and gold.

A grove of snowblossom trees.

Alole: Oh!

Just then, High Angel comes up, having navigated through these mysterious new trees. Wondering at them, the mortal angel finally sees Alole in their midst.

High Angel: Good morning, Alole!

He then sees Highemp.

Highemp: High Angel...

At that moment, the scales fall away from High Angel's eyes, and he sees exactly what has transpired. He stares at Highemp, shock and anger and grief warring on his face. Highemp does not flinch, even as guilt flashes over his own face.

Alole looks between them, seeing in her mind terrible images of a star and a god doing battle...

But High Angel finally, saying nothing, a terrible sorrow in his eyes, turns on his heel, and walks out of the new snowblossom grove before taking wing into the cloudless dawn.

Highemp: High Angel...

Yet another sorrow has pierced the ancient powerplayer's heart. And this is one he has brought upon himself. But better that sorrow than to live with the sorrow of denying his love for the princess.

He turns to Alole and takes her hand. Then he sinks to one knee.

Highemp: Alole, empress of my heart - marry me. I want to be your husband and the father of your children.

Alole's smile is radiant.

Alole: I agree to you being my husband...

Highemp: And the second...?

Alole: You are already the father of my children.

Highemp: What?

She places a hand to her belly.

Alole: I am with child.

-----

They are married beneath the snowblossom trees. The next nine months are the happiest of their lives. When the time comes, Alole chooses to deliver their child beneath the snowblossom trees - the same place where the babe had been conceived.

The servants are sent away, and only Highemperor is present at the birthing, because, let's face it, it's more melodramatic if only one person delivers the baby, especially if it's the father.

The labor will not be described, because (A) labor is difficult and such, and such realism has no place in a fantasy tale; and (B) the Writer doesn't actually know that much about the details of labor; and finally, C) the Censor would undoubtedly censor such details, and I for one would not blame him.

Suffice it to say, that a beautiful baby girl is born - but unforeseen, unexplained consequences happen, as often do in fantasy birthings, and Alole begins slipping away.

Highemp: Alole!

His eyes and hands flash silver-white power, and light courses through her veins coaxing life back into her. But...

Alole: You... have to let me go.

Highemp: But why?

Random Audience Member: Because that's how tragic romances work, you blithering idiot!

Sit down and shut up, or Highemp will undoubtedly incinerate-- Oh, well, too late.

Highemp places the baby girl in Alole's arms, and she cradles their child, breathing a name in the ancient Atlantean language for her.

Alole: Iriana.

Daughter of the moon.

Random Audience Member #2: Hey, wouldn't Mary Sue be a better--

There is a WHOOSH as this random audience member, too, is incinerated.

Alole: Highemp...

Highemp: Alole, I - I'll never dance with anyone again... not the way I danced with you.

She looks at him, and smiles, and her last words are soft and barely audible.

Alole: Yes... you will.

And then she is gone. Highemp weeps over her still form, cradling their daughter in his arms, as the snowblossom trees over them die, shedding all their white leaves and silver and gold blooms over them, the only tears the trees can cry.

-----

The funeral does not bear describing. Simple or extravagant, a funeral is a sorrowful farewell to someone who will walk no more among the living.

Highemp remains, looking at the closed casket, after everyone else has left. Everyone except one.

High Angel stands on the other side of the casket from him.

They do not speak to each other, do not meet each other's eyes. But with one accord, they lift the casket and lower it into the ground, and together in silence shovel the soil upon it. They use their hands, rather than their vast powers, for this somehow sacred task, the last honor they can do the one they both loved.

As the last bit of loam covers Alole's grave, Highemp finally turns to High Angel.

Highemp: High Angel--

But High Angel interrupts him, his eyes flashing.

High Angel: You killed her. If I ever see you again, I will kill you.

With that, he calls in a loud, eldritch cry, in strange words that no angel should know, calling on dark gods, archdevils, demon lords, chthonic entities - every evil and chaotic power there is - promising his soul if they would grant him the power to exact his vengeance.

Not one, or some, but ALL of these dark powers answer. A fallen angel is a rare prize, especially one with the powers of the Lightside still within him. One by one, they each grant him a measure of their power, restoring his immortality and vastly enhancing his powers.

Before Highemperor's horrified eyes, High Angel mutates, two large spiraling horns sprouting from his temples, his feet becoming cloven hooves, his white-feathered wings turning black, all the many eyes changing to the color of dripping blood. His flesh turns the color of rust, and a lashing tail sprouts to life. A High Angel no longer - a High Imp.

A sword of crackling black-colored power appears in High Imp's hand, the counterpart to Highemp's white Drynyrn, and the fallen angel holds its point to Highemp's throat.

High Imp: As much as we were friends, so much now we shall be enemies. As much as I loved her, so much now I shall hate you. As much as we both wished her life, so much I will wish you damnation.

Highemp: High Angel - your soul?!

He'd thought he'd already lost his friend when he pledged himself to Alole. But that was no loss, compared to what this is.

High Imp barks a laugh.

High Imp: No longer a high angel. High Imp. And do you think so little of my intelligence? Now that so many gods and devils have a claim to my soul, none of them can successfully stake it against the others. Particularly since I now share their combined power.

His eyes, now a smoldering crimson, bore into Highemp's deep blue orbs.

High Imp: For the sake of our old friendship, I will let you walk away now. But never again.

In horror and sorrow and shame, Highemp vanishes in a swirl of silvery-white light.

-----

Highemperor knows he has no choice. The world - the universe - cannot abide the evil that High Angel has become. Corruption and death follow in his wake as High Imp ravages a path across the cosmos in a terrible rage. He must be contained.

But not killed. Highemp cannot bring himself to contemplate killing his once-friend. The friend he betrayed.

So he sets out on a quest, leaving Iriana to be cared for by the servants on the isle where Alole had lived and died. The quest becomes his reason for existing, the only way to blot out memories of Alole. He travels to all the myriad netherworlds of each dark power that High Imp had called upon, one by one carving a path through lesser demons and alien intelligences, until he comes to the dark power itself, at which Highemp engages it in a titanic battle which inevitably decimates much of that particular netherworld.

Then he binds the dark power, casting it down into a metaphysical abyss. With each dark power so bound, High Imp's power decreases. Finally, Highemperor has bound all the dark powers that empower High Imp - except one.

Jim Seven. The Devil. Lucifer. Ruler of the Nine Hells.

But he had known him once, during his days as King Emp in the League of Heroes. So he gives him a chance to voluntarily withdraw his power from High Imp.

Jim Seven: Now why should I do that? Fallen angels are such delicious souls.

Highemp: You will never see his soul. Too many other dark gods and devil lords also have a claim on it.

Jim Seven: Hmm, and I suppose if I say no, you'll try to destroy me?

Highemp: No. I will destroy you.

Jim Seven: Maybe. Maybe not. But I think I would rather like to see you live with the guilt of having confined the friend that YOU betrayed to eternal banishment.

Highemp's soul writhes in shame.

Jim Seven: Very well. My dark blessing is withdrawn from him.

And with that, the last of his power bound or withdrawn, High Imp is banished to the abyss.

Highemperor turns his attention back to his powerplaying. If he can powerplay well enough, he can rule the universe, and FIX it, make it the way it should be - or at least find the answers, the justification, for how it is now.

Of course, one of the secrets behind Highemp's power is that his powerplaying taps into the story rather than just ignoring it, which is why the other writers cannot move against him.

With his behind-the-scenes cross-time machinations, he has guided the destiny of bloodink from the Ancient One and the Illuminohqi across history, until only one descendant remains - his old friend Erro, from whose line comes Gebohq, the chosen one, whose veins flow with bloodink. As Highemp boasted to High Angel so long ago, he has become the chooser of the chosen one, the lord of fate.

Meanwhile, the NeS is birthed in 1999, and shortly thereafter, on page 6, the sorcerer Semievil invokes the names of several dark gods, archdevils, and demon lords - coincidentally, all the ones that empowered High Imp - and thus releases High Imp from his bindings. High Imp then corrupts Canada - not that it takes much corrupting, BAZINGA! - and relocates the 9th Circle of Hell there. Jim the Devil grudgingly tolerates him, respecting his power and knowing better than to test his power against the one empowered by so many other dark powers.

Finally, on page 50, Highemp's scheme has come to fruition. He has guided the destiny and power of bloodink to its fulfillment at this point, this great battle. Now he is ready to usurp it and steal it for himself, so that he may combine his powerplaying with the blessing of Ohq bloodink to rule the NeSiverse.

So when the great battle against the EeP comes, he engages High Imp in titanic battle, knowing the pathos and inevitability of this conflict will awaken the bloodink within himself - as was his Writer's plan all along.

-----

The Arena. Page 50.

The NeS heroes, led by Gebohq and standing with Editorial allies recruited by Highemperor, stand in the beating rain, looking towards the black clouds in the distance. The others have not yet realized it, but Highemp knows - those clouds are not clouds at all, but swarms of demons. High Imp has summoned a vast army of demons, not the Hellsworn demons - which serve Jim Seven - but the forces of various dark powers, chthonic elder gods, devil lords, etc., that High Imp has gathered together in Canada, for this day.

Gasps rise from the NeSian ranks as the rest of them perceive the true nature of these demonic clouds. Scarlet lightning splits the sky, and the hellish hordes descend.

High Imp lands with a thunderclap before them and first turns his blade of crackling black flame upon the Editor, who vanishes in a pyrotechnic flash. Highemp makes no move to stop this, but only summons his own white sword Drynyrn once the Editor is gone.

High Imp: We meet again... friend.

Highemperor makes a mocking salute with his sword.

Highemp: Well met.

From stillness they explode into furious motion, a deadly dance of swordplay. Pirouettes and parries, feints and slashes. High Imp's eyes blaze, and a pillar of flame erupts from the ground beneath Highemperor. A silver aura shields him from the inferno, and he responds with a blast of white electricity sparking from his hand. High Imp flicks it away with a wave of his own clawed hand, and the lightning deflects into a cluster of hapless demons, who disintegrate.

High Imp: Highemperor, still on your quest to rule the story.

Highemp: Fallen angel, still slave to his own passions.

High Imp bares his fangs in a feral cry.

High Imp: You seek to save her... but why do you think she died in the first place?

Highemp's eyes narrow, and he responds with another thrust of the sword.

High Imp: Your Writer ordained it, Highemp.

Highemp: Don't call me that!

High Imp: He limits your power so that you can make a story for him! A story explaining and justifying his world!

Highemp: Liar! I limit myself so I can control the story!

High Imp stabs his black blade at Highemperor. He raises Drynyrn to block, but in mid-stab, High Imp's black sword vanishes and reappears in the fallen angel's other hand, which thrusts at Highemp's unprotected side. It cleaves right through the glow of silver force clinging to Highemp and into his side. It's a shallow cut, but bleeds profusely, and causes Highemp to stagger back, balancing precariously on the edge of the cliff that looks over deadly lava beneath. High Imp grins, and his savage smile looks almost like a grimace.

High Imp: Check.

Punching his fist towards Highemperor, High Imp releases a gigantic ball of black fire that streaks toward his old friend. Highemperor barely has a second to register the incoming attack before it hits, lifts him off his feet - and over the cliff into the lava.

High Imp groans in victory - or is it anger or grief? - and turns to Gebohq. Lifting himself on his tattered, black-feathered, crimson-eyed wings, he rises into the air only to land on top of Geb, pinning him to the ground with a massive cloven hoof.

High Imp: Highemperor failed Erro. He failed me. And now, he has failed you.

The black energy of his blade writhes and twists, forming itself into a black pitchfork. An eerie gleam flares in High Imp's eyes as he thrusts the pitchfork down.

Simultaneously, Highemperor emerges from the lava and flings himself towards Geb and High Imp, shooting himself through the air like a slingshot - and he dives into Geb's form, pushing him away and interposing his own body between the wielder of the NeS and the ebon pitchfork. All the forces of the cosmos and all the story conventions of the NeSiverse that Highemperor has spent eons funneling down to one point - one person, at one moment - that were hurtling towards Gebohq, now crash into Highemperor himself.

The pitchfork lands in Highemperor's torso, puncturing deeply into the organs beneath. Highemperor coughs, and meets the fallen angel's eyes.

Highemperor: Mate.

A flash of surprise crosses High Imp's face.

A blinding white brilliance obscures Highemperor's vision as he sinks towards death. He waits to see his life flash before his eyes, but instead, all he sees are faces - the faces of those he has loved.

First is Harem Girl #87, her blonde curls crowning her head and framing her porcelain face. Then there is Erro, back when he was young and in the first full bloom of his love with Catherine. After that is Alole, whispering her final words to him, then the infant face of Iriana, now no longer an infant. Next is Gebohq, who, despite all his manipulations of him, he has come to see as a friend.

Finally, the face of High Angel, as he once knew him, back in the glory days of Atlantis, and a stab of sorrow overtakes him at the last.

But just before the darkness claims him, he sees another face, hazily, as if from a remembered dream. A beautiful woman, one he's never seen before, looking at him with love and trust and happiness... And Alole's last words float to him.

"Yes. You will."

There is a small explosion, and both Highemp and High Imp vanish, leaving only a bloodstain on the Arena floor.

No one pays it any mind as the battle continues to rage, but if one had paid attention, one who knew of such things, he would have noted the blood... was bloodink.

-----

In destruction, High Imp is banished once more, to the darkest depths of Hell - Jim's Great Granite Fortress in Canada, where he is eternally bound.

After the annihilation and subsequent rebirth of the NeS at the end of page 50, Highemp is also reborn, as he had planned - now the central character of the story, with bloodink running through his veins and the mastery of its arcane power. He rules the NeS for an eternity so small it passes in an instant, in which the story is shattered... but that's another story.

NOTE TO ALL READERS: If you skipped the previous post with all the backstory, start reading again here, whence we return to our regularly scheduled NeS.

----------

Al Ciao: ...and that's how I know High Imp.

Geb: Wow.

Cap: So basically, he was your best mate till you slept with his girlfriend?

Al glares at the dog.

Cap: Hey, just calling it like I see it.

Mia: Oh, Al, honey, that is so moving, so sad!

She kisses him tenderly.

Mia: And thanks for all the intel on him! I'll have to draft an intelligence report on that right away!

She flies off in a rush to her office. Geb, Lib, Al, and Cap stare after her, bemused.

Liberius: It seems to me that this High Imp is one of our four unknown villains.

Geb: Really? How would you know?

Liberius: I AM the Mysterious Stranger. I know these things when I need to know them.

Al: Plus it makes a lot of dramatic sense for an old enemy to show up seeking revenge.

Geb: When has NeS ever made sense?

Cap: Touche. An 80s music montage giving a dog the ability to speak? I mean, come on.

Lib: I'm a little worried, Al. From what you've told us, it seems that your Writer, in his attempt to create an epic story that would double as theodicy, created High Imp as a foil for you. He matched your power when you were Highemperor, one of the most powerful beings in the NeSiverse. And now... you're powerless.

Geb looks at Al with alarm.

Geb: Well, I can give you the advice that always works for me...

Al: Run away at the first sign for trouble?

Geb: Oh, I've already told you then.

Al: I'm not THAT worried. As long as I keep amusing my Writer, he'll keep me around.

Lib: You hope.

Cap: And that doesn't affect what the other Writers may or may not do.

Al: I wish you hadn't said that.

Cap: Why not? Not saying wouldn't have made it any less true.

Al: Maybe, but now you've given the Writers ideas...

-----

Lib the Writer: Your character has a point, Al. We writers come up with enough stupid stuff on our own without getting help.

Al Ciao the Writer: Well, look at it this way. It can't possibly get any stupider.

JM the Writer: Bwahahahaha! I shall turn the NeS into a parody of "Wuthering Heights" except that they'll all speak with Indian accents!

Lib the Writer looks at Al Ciao the Writer.

Lib the Writer: You had to say it, didn't you...

Geb suddenly thinks of something.

Geb: Al? That last face you saw before you died, the woman you didn't know - she didn't happen to be, er, a redhead, did she?

Al: I wish I could remember. It was like having a wonderful dream, but when you wake up, you can't quite remember it...

Nothing like ambiguity, is there?

Cool Matty the Writer: A NEW CHALLENGER HAS APPEARED!

CMtW bangs loudly on his keyboard, obviously typing at a frantic pace.

GebtW: New challenger? You don't mean another new character, do you?

CMtW: Define "new".

GebtW: Did this character exist in NeS before the post you're writing right now?

CMtW: ... no. But that's not the point!

GebtW: You have four characters in your gang that you can't keep straight right now! It's getting a bit crowded, don't you think?

CMtW: That's the brilliance, this character has nothing to do with my other characters! Besides, I'm writing a post, so you should be happy.

GebtW: My cat can write posts by walking all over the keyboard. Even the NeS has standards.

CMtW: You're such a cynic, Geb. Wait... cynic... you just gave me a great idea for my new character!

CMtW goes back to writing, and Geb sighs and walks away, to more important matters. Like finding out how to revoke membership of Al Ciao the Writer's powerplaying card.

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

Meanwhile, a young woman, no older than 25, is driving down a highway toward Washington D.C.. With both hands on the wheel, she glances at the navigation system.

Angie: Fourty more miles, wonderful. I've had enough of driving for a few lifetimes.

Her phone rings, and she answers over the car stereo. A male voice greets her.

Caller: Angie, have anything new to tell me?

Angie: Since the last time you called? Five minutes ago? Yes, the earth's rotated roughly 70 miles here in the past five minutes. This was such an momentous occasion, that I decided to join a mariachi band just to celebrate.

Caller: Cut the sarcasm. You know what I am talking about.

Angie: Look, I'm working on it. That's why I'm heading down to the Library of Congress, I'm hoping to discover some shred of proof in the archives. Until I have that to back up my theory, I am not saying another word. It's all heresy at this point.

Caller: You know who we're dealing with. Don't you think Arkng Thand would have cleared that place of any useful information?

Angie: He has his wits, and his intelligence, but he lacks manpower. He cannot be everywhere at once, which is how I've managed to stay under his radar so far. I have no doubt that he dispatched someone to cleanse the library. However, that person is not Arkng Thand. There might be something leftover, a lead of some sort.

Caller: Alright, I'll leave you be for now. But the moment you find something, you let me know. We have to move on this fast if what you think is true.

Angie: Just don't get excited. I wish I hadn't said anything at all. It's an extreme move, even for him, so it may be nothing more than rumors.

Caller: I understand. I'll leave you to it. If you need anything, call.

A click was heard as the man hung up the phone. Angie sighed deeply, and ran a hand through her dark auburn hair. She readjusted her glasses, and settled back into the seat for the last leg of the trip.

Angie then placed a call of her own to her secretary.

Angie: Hi Cynthai.

Cynthai: Hello Ms. Langley, what can I do for you?

Angie: Have you found a hotel for me near the library yet?

Cynthai: Yes ma'am, Capitol Hill Suites on C Street Southeast. I've added the location to your navigation.

Angie: Thank you. When I arrive, please hold my calls. This drive has exhausted me.

Cynthai: Of course, ma'am. Also, I have arranged your fake identification to access the secure area. It will be ready for pickup when you arrive. You will be a one Ms. Deborah Reynolds, working as a representative to Senator Mark Warner.

Angie: He's a Virginia senator, if I recall?

Cynthai: That's correct.

Angie: Wonderful work, Cynthai. How is the work progressing on your android shell?

Cynthai: A replacement is still six months off, unfortunately.

Angie: I see. Whenever I make it back to the office, I'll see what I can do about pushing your build through the system faster.

Cynthai: That's alright, Ms. Langley. It is my burden, I should have been more careful.

Angie: Nonsense, it was an accident.

Cynthai: Everything all right, ma'am? You seem unduly concerned for me today.

Angie: I... have just had some time to think, that is all.

Cynthai: Of course, ma'am. Well, unless there is anything else you require of me?

Angie: No, that will be all for tonight, thank you.

Cynthai: Good luck.

Another click, and Angie was once again alone in her car. That was when she realized that she felt alone, a feeling that was often unfamiliar to her. She was used to being a loner, ever since childhood. She passed it off as simply too much stress over the long drive from New Hampshire. Of course, she only had herself to blame, she could have flown. But flying left records, and she need not give Arkng Thand any reason to look at her. She pulled up the hotel on the navigation system, and anxiously awaited the soft bed that would be there for her.

NSP NOTE: Cynthai is spelled as is, as a pun on Synthesized AI, Cynth AI. Although characters call her Cynthia, her name is spelled as written.

The next morning, on the second floor of the Thomas Jefferson Library of Congress building...

Angie placed an earbud into her ear, and called Cynthai.

Angie: Okay, Cynthai, I'm settled in at the library. A quick check of the computer indexes confirmed our suspicions, Arkng Thand definitely is hiding something. Just attempting to search for the name caused the computer to shut down. Whatever he's done, or is planning, there was something here that had it.

Cynthai: That sounds accurate, ma'am.

Angie: However, this also means it makes my job much more difficult. Luckily, the Library of Congress still has traditional catalog indexes, so perhaps I can find a lead there. I just need somewhere to start.

Cynthai: If I may offer a suggestion: perhaps we can look for information on him by using someone else... his wife.

Angie: That might work... if we look for her, we might find information on him. Only problem is, we need a name. So let's start with what we do know. We know he enjoys magic and metaphysics. He's infinitely old, so he has had plenty of time to build his riches and hide it.

Cynthai: He lives in a place called Deitopos.

Angie: Dietopos... that would actually be the best place to start. A map would be the last thing on anyone's mind when cleaning this place of Thand's name. Cynthai, I want you to see if you can find Thand's wife's name elsewhere. I am going to head to the James Madison building basement, and scour their maps.

Cynthai: Yes, ma'am, I'll do my best.

Angie grabbed her bag and scuttled down to the cartography center. As she stepped off the elevator, she noticed over fifty people waiting at the desk. Angie walked up to the back of the line.

Angie: Excuse me, what is this big line for?

The man in front of her turned around, holding a stack of papers and looking frustrated.

Man: Someone took down the entire computer map archive. So now the librarian in charge is forced to check out original copies of the maps to everyone, which I'm sure you know is a long process. It's going to take forever to get through this line!

Angie looked to the front of the line. It had not budged since she arrived. Tired of waiting, she stepped out of line and walked up to the desk.

Angie: Excuse me, but I am looking for a map of a location that isn't in the computer.

Librarian: You and everyone else, lady. Get in line.

The librarian continued working with the other person at the desk.

Angie: Excuse me, but I really need this soon. It's a request by Congressman Warner.

Librarian: You're a representative? I've never seen you around here before.

Angie pulled her fake badge out of her bag, and showed it to the librarian.

Librarian: Oh great, wonderful timing. *turns to the other person in line* Sorry sir, you'll have to wait a moment. Representatives have priority. Ms. Reynolds, please come in the back room with me.

Angie took a moment to realize the Librarian was talking about her, using the fake name, but followed the librarian. He opened the door to the back room, revealing many shelves of maps in protective tubes. They walked in, and he closed the door behind her.

Librarian: Okay, Ms. Reynolds, what sort of map are you looking for?

Angie: I need a physical map of a place called Dietopos.

Librarian: Dietopos? Never heard of it. Any idea where that's located?

Angie: I don't.

Librarian: Not even a country, continent?

Angie: No.

Librarian: *sigh*, alright. Luckily, whoever took down our map archive didn't touch our inventory computer here. Probably because it's not on the network. Let me put it in there and see what comes up.

The librarian walked up to an old terminal computer, and entered the search. A single result appeared.

Librarian: Huh, no wonder I didn't know it. We only have one map of this place?! Alright Miss, follow me.

The librarian led her deeper and deeper into the room, finally stopping at an older wooden shelf. He picked up a tube, and gave it to her.

Librarian: That's it. The only record we have for a place called Dietopos. Call me when you're done, I've got to return to the desk.

Angie opened the tube, and placed the map on a nearby table. Using some paperweights, she unraveled it, and the map revealed a place called the dreamscape.

Angie: The dreamscape?Sounds like something a king with 8 generations of inbreeding would name their garden.

She found Dietopos, which was marked only with a simple dot on the map. No landmarks or locations on the map matched anything she could recognize. The map by itself didn't have any information about how to get there.

Angie: Great, this map was useless. Now instead of answers, I just have more questions.

Al Ciao the Writer: A'ight, y'all, a-postin' I'm a-going!

Geb the Writer: Wait just a moment, Al.

ACtW: ...yes?

GtW: I see that TV in your cubicle.

Al Ciao the Writer attempts to make his body mass as wide as possible in an effort to hide his TV. This is somewhat difficult, since it's a 72-inch flatscreen.

ACtW: Really? Where?

GtW: I'm not blind, Al. You just finished watching "Smallville", didn't you? Including the two-minute preview of the upcoming Green Lantern movie?

ACtW: YEAH! It rocked! I--

GtW: Oh, no. You are NOT gonna be influenced to add more high fantasy epic superheroic four-color comic book stuff to this story in your new post, like you usually do any time you've seen something like that.

ACtW: Aw, but--

GtW: Are we clear?

ACtW: [grumble]Ruin my plans; frickin' editor...[/grumble]

GtW: What was that?

ACtW: Uh... your mother raised you right, wish I'd met her?

GtW: You still can! Come with me, I'm going to her place for Easter's!

ACtW: Um... I thought you were going to your dad's side.

GtW: I think you're confusing the Writer's Realm with Reality.

ACtW: What? This IS Reality!

GtW: If this were Reality, we wouldn't have offices for the NeS.

ACtW: LALALALALALALALA I CAN'T HEAR YOU LALALALALALALALA

GtW: *sigh*

-----

In the Library of Congress, Angie is studying the map of this dreamscape. Except for Deitopos itself, the terrain on the map keeps shifting.

Angie: No, it doesn't. Maps don't do that.

Um... what about holographic maps?

Angie: This is centuries-old parchment.

You wouldn't believe in magic, would you?

Angie: Nope.

*sigh* Okay, the terrain on the map doesn't shift. It just looks like a featureless place, except for a few semi-permanent spots, such as Deitopos and Astralian-smitish.

Angie: Astralian-smitish? That's a hamlet in Austria!

Which has nothing to do with the current plot. It's only a reference to a past story-arc.

Angie: You know that voices out of the air don't just solve mysteries instantly.

Whatever.

Angie: Now, I have to figure out how to get to Deitopos...

Cynthai speaks into her earplug.

Cynthai: Angie, we have new information on a possible location of interest.

Angie: Yes? If Deitopos cannot be accessed, we will need a fallback plan.

Cynthai: An island called Morchazima. Apparently, there's an ancient crumbling fortress there, a square mile around, ten stories tall, and even more space underground. It's said to be a treasury of sorts.

Angie: Why didn't we know this before?

Cynthai: It wasn't until the last five pages of the NeS chronicles were supplied to us by our plant at Massassi that we knew of its existence. In fact, it sort of "didn't exist" in a quantum meta-state before that.

Angie: Ah. Schrodinger's cat. Its existence is not resolved until it is perceived.

Cynthai: Precisely.

-----

Losien: Er, I really don't want to fight you.

Cris: CHIKIN! Get your chikin here!

Rachel: Oh, don't tell me you're a pansy like your brother.

Cris: Can't watch a deathmatch without your CHIKIN!

Losien: Geb's not a pansy! He's the best of heroes!

Cris: Thank you, sir, that's be $7.47--CHIKIN!

Rachel: Well, he's a certainly the best of men, quite a stud, hubba, hubba. But hero? Not so much.

Cris: Last call for CHIKIN!

Losien: I will not fight you.

Rachel: If you will not fight me... then perhaps your sister will.

Losien charges forward, fists held back for a wind-up punch as she screams in fury.

Losien: NOOOOO--- wait, what?

She skids to a stop before Rachel, but doesn't stop in time, cracking her forehead on Rachel's and sending them both to the ground in a heap.

Rachel: Ow, I have the mother of all headaches. What did you do that for?

Losien: Well, er-- I don't have a sister.

A sudden thought strikes her.

Losien: ...do I?

Rachel suppresses a grin.

Rachel: To protect you both, you were separated at birth.

Losien: Mimiru... Mimiru's my sister.

Rachel: Your insight serves you well.

Losien: Oh, this is totally awesome! I've gotta call her up and tell her the news! WOOO! I've got a sister!

She whips out her cell phone and flips it open, dialing.

-----

On the Director's set...

Citizen Rex: Don't worry, Lola! I'LL save you!

He swoops up into the air - since he doesn't need a stunt man or special effects, he's saving the Director a ton of money - to where Mimiru is falling out of a faux helicopter on top of a faux skyscraper.

Citizen Rex: Don't worry. I've got you.

Mimiru: You've got me?! Who's got YOU?!

Below them, Geronimo yells up at them in suitable boyish awe.

Geronimo: Look! Up in the sky! It's a stork! It's a jet bomber! No, it's - POOPERMAN!

Citizen Rex/Pooperman lands on the ground, where he sets Mimiru/Lola down beside Geronimo/Timmy Oldson.

Mimiru/Lola: Oh, Pooperman... don't go.

She leans in for a kiss, but Citizen Rex/Pooperman forestalls her.

Citizen Rex/Pooperman: Fair Lola, I must catch the vile Dex Uther!

There is an awkward silence.

Citizen Rex/Pooperman: I said, I must catch the vile DEX UTHER!

A sulking Cool Matty steps reluctantly out on the set. His head is bald as a cueball.

Cool Matty/Dex Uther: Can't believe she made me shave my hair off...

-----

Deep in the Library of Congress...

Cynthai: Angie... you've gone off our sensors.

Angie: Huh...what do you mean?

Cynthai: You are no longer registering on our satellite meta-imaging scanner.

Angie: Well, I am in an extremely old and dusty section of the Library. Several stories below ground, I think.

Cynthai: SMIS could detect you if you were in the center of the earth. No. According to Proctor Research files, you may be in the rumored but never confirmed Top Secret Omega Classified Archives.

Angie: Kind of a mouthful.

Cynthai: TSOCA. According to legend, it was established by Benjamin Franklin in his capacity as Postmaster General - which, as you know, was actually the title for the head of espionage.

Angie: Oh, so sort of like that Book of Secrets from the Nick Cage movie that can only be read by Presidents?

Cynthai: Even Presidents don't have access to this archive. The one you're referring to is the Top Secret Alpha Zero Archives.

Angie: TSAZA?

Cynthai: Hey, not all acronyms can be as good as mine.

Angie: So true. I bet this archive is shielded somehow... but how could 17th century technology be keeping SMIS at bay?

Cynthai: Perhaps there will be more information on that, and on Thand, here.

Hours later...

Angie: Nothing. Not a thing on Thand. Though it turns out that the sensor shielding is provided by what is referred to as an ancient alchemical process provided by a mysterious benefactor.

Cynthai: Mysterious benefactor?

Angie: Thand, perhaps. He's certainly old enough. Wait a moment...

She turns to a dusty painting on the wall. Two men are visible beneath the coat of dust upon the surface of the painting. One is instantly recognizable as Benjamin Franklin. The other is wearing a tweed suit with reading glasses, and has grey eyes and wispy hair.

Angie: I think that's Thand.

Peering closer, she sees a book clutched in Thand's hand.

Angie: Ye Olde Historie Fantastique, by Hermes Trismegistus.

Cynthai: A clue, perhaps?

Angie: Maybe. It's the only lead I have. Crossreference databases for that book, all known copies.

Cynthai: Yes ma'am. Ma'am, apparently there were only twelve copies in existence.

Angie: Well, where are they?

Cynthai: They've all been destroyed, I'm afraid. But... this is interesting. The last one was reported destroyed... in 1666.

Angie: That's more than a hundred years before this picture! There must have been a thirteenth copy!

Cynthai: Crossreferencing databases. A book, title unknown, reportedly by Hermes Trismegistus, was removed from the Vatican by a sealed papal order in 1967. It was to be given to a "Sir John Bull".

Angie: John Bull is just a British symbol, like Uncle Sam for Americans. Any descriptions?

Cynthai: Crossreferencing databases. No, but a cardinal's diary that a Proctor agent lifted a decade ago includes an entry describing a man in some odd sort of large metal armor on the same date.

Angie: ...a mech?

-----

At the mech base in the frozen wasteland, Al, Geb, Lib, and Cap come up to Mia's Dockmaster office. Mia is cradling something in her hands, staring at it.

Al: Mia? Are you alright?

Mia: I...yes. Just nervous.

Geb: What's that you're holding?

Cap: I should think that quite obvious: it's a book.

Al: Oooh, is it the Book of Gold?

Mia: No such luck I'm afraid. I found it in Arnie's hidden-safe-within-a-safe. It's old and dusty, with pages of parchment. I wonder what it is, and whether it was part of his treachery, or from the higher-ups.

Lib: What's it called?

Mia: Ye Olde Historie Fantastique, by Hermes Trismegistus...

The plot *FWOOSH* thickens!

And now... some answers for any new readers who have undoubtedly been confused by the last three posts!

Random Audience Member: Actually, EVERY post in NeS is confusing.

Hasn't driven you away yet, has it?

Random Audience Member: No, not as long you continue to serve free popcorn and sodas.

Mr. Proctor, head of Proctor Research, the organization employing Angie, is sitting in his office behind his desk in a massive La-Z Boy. This sucker has it all: built-in fridge, remote controls, heating pads, the works. Only the best for Mr. Proctor.

Mr. Proctor is currently musing over his worries about Arkng Thand. Since he made the mistake of doing this while in his La-Z Boy, he has drifted off to sleep. He jerks back to wakefulness with a start. He needs something to focus him.

Mr. Proctor: Ms. Ingles, please bring in the Thand file, please.

Ms. Ingles (over intercom): Right away, sir.

Presently the file is open on the desk before Mr. Proctor. He knows this whole file by heart - and indeed, has drafted much of it himself - but looking over the summary might spark some new insights, perhaps.

MASTER ARKNG THAND

Possible Aliases (Unconfirmed): Adam, Adai Theos

Relatives: Amal, nephew(?); wife (unknown, deceased)

Affiliations: Champions of Atlantis (unconfirmed, defunct); NeScholars (resigned)

Age: Indeterminate; as old as mankind

Residence: Deitopos

Summary: Arkng Thand, more commonly known as Master Thand, is the very picture of the wise old man. His most common accessory is a pipe which emits blue smoke when he puffs on it. He wears glasses, although whether or not he actually needs them is unknown. His common modes of dress are either a blue robe or a tweed suit.

Continued: He is the smartest, wisest, and most knowledgeable person on the planet. His motivations are unclear - he has helped both good and evil before - but knowledge appears to be his highest priority. He claims to serve the story, though what he deems best for the story is not always clear, and may in fact be at odds with the views of NeSheroes or villains. First appearing as a mentor figure to the NeS heroes on page 6 (ish), he later revealed a more ambiguous side to his planning.

Continued: Legend has it that he is the first man on earth. Other rumors say that he was Adai Theos, the strongest man in history (Hercules and Samson, eat your hearts out!), and a member of the Champions of Atlantis, circa 10,000 B.C. These are unconfirmed, however. As far as we can tell, our first record of Arkng Thand is when he co-founded the NeScholars a few generations ago. Recently, however, on page 25, he destroyed all the NeScholars except for three: Antestarr (an NeShero, who is currently still fighting at Disneyworld amidst the forces of hell), Matthias (a junior NeScholar, who is also still fighting at Disneyworld amidst the forces of hell), and Howard (Dragonbane; now deceased, as of page 30).

End Summary

Mr. Proctor sighs and rubs his temples. Master Thand is a headache on a good day. Now that he has become more active within the NeS though, as of the last couple dozen pages, he is a frustrating enigma... and possibly a deadly one.

But the question remains: Deadly to whom?

Mr. Proctor: Just whose side are you on...?

Back at the film set, Citizen Rex, Cool Matty and Mimiru continue to act out a scene that's likely far longer and with more unbroken bloopers than would be expected on a professional set.

Cool Matty: Why did I have to get suck as the bad guy?

Citizen Rex: Don't break character, fool. Stand aside, Dex, before I have to use my heat vision on you!

Cool Matty: Ha ha! Just you try-- OWOOWOWOWW!

Cool Matty gets caught on fire from Citizen Rex's heat vision.

Cool Matty: What the hell?! This is acting, you idiot! Why did you zap me for real?

Citizen Rex: I'm a practitioner of method acting.

Cool Matty: HA! Made you break character! What are you going to do about it no--OWOWOWOWOWOW!

Mimiru: Uh, guys? Maybe we should get back to our task at--hold on, I got a call.

Mimiru picks up her phone. The cameraman turns to the director.

Cameraman: Uh, sir? Shouldn't we stop rolling?

Director: No! Keep the cameras going! This will make great material for the behind the scenes bonus material on the DVD! That's where the real sales are at!

Mimiru: Hello?... Oh, hi Losien, I--what? No, I'm not your sister. ...yes, I'm sure. ...what do you mean "how am I sure?" We don't look anything alike, for one! And--....well, yes, this is the NeS, so it's possible but--... Look, where'd you get that idea from, anyway? ...Rachel? You do recall she's April Fool's Incarnate, right? Playing pranks is sort of her thing. ...yes, I can hear her laughing over the phone. ...yes, I'll let you get to giving her a piece of your mind. It was good talking to you, Losien! I have to deal with my own imbeciles now. ...OK, thanks, you take care too. Bye.

Mimiru hangs up the phone, and sighs when she sees Citizen Rex and Cool Matty slapping each other like sissy girls.

Citizen Rex: YOU CANNOT OUTSLAP ME, FOOL! I KNOW ALL THE SLAPPING TECHNIQUES FROM ACROSS THE MULTIVERSE, INCLUDING THE MIGHT URKEL METHOD!

Setting: A contemporary theatrical ampitheater in nighttime. The bright stage lighting makes it difficult to see much past the performance ground itself, though a sizable crowd can be heard in the seating, managed and fed by Cris B., the owner of Cris B's Chikin Shack and mentor to Losien Simon, the attractive main character of this story. However, Cris B. is taking a backseat to coaching Losien, leaving her to stand in the performance area and face off against Rachel Pi, also known as April Fool's Incarnate.

Losien: That was a very mean trick you played on me, Rachel. You've been playing tricks on me and those I care about long enough. You must--

Rachel: --I must be punished for my indiscrections. Good, good! I was worried my prank would not be enough to drive your desire to confront me. I won't make it easy for you, though! You'll have to put that storywielding you've been learning to good use.

Rachel smiles slyly, Losien shifting in her place in discomfort at Rachel's enthusiasm. The amplified voice of Cris B. calls for attention.

Cris B.: Welcome to the battle between the fair Losien and the foxy Rachel! Will Losien succeed in using her newly learned talents to defend herself, or will Rachel put her in her place? Let's not delay what you all have come here for any longer. Let the battle begin!

The crowd cheers, and a bell dings akin to a boxing match. Losien stands tense, waiting for Rachel to make a move. An awkward moment passes.

Rachel: Psst. I suggest you start attacking.

Losien loosens up and crosses her arms.

Losien: I've learned from my brother. I will not fight you. We can talk this--

Rachel: Talk is boring! Prepare yourself!

Losien has little time to heed Rachel's words, though, as Rachel leaps towards Rachel, flipping in the air and aiming her foot to kick Losien in the face. Losien stumbles to the side before the hit connects, but Rachel sweep-kicks Losien off her feet and flat on her back. Rachel immediately pins her to the ground, Rachel's face only an inch from Losien's. The crowd starts hooting in approval.

Rachel: You got to give them what they want, Losien.

Losien: What they want...?

Rachel raises her eyebrows knowingly. Losien's eyes widen, and she manages to shove Rachel off her. As Losien stands back off, Rachel lunges after her again, but Losien stands her ground, and the two engage in a power struggle to push the other into the ground. Rachel turns the battle, though, by pulling Losien towards her, spinning Losien so as to have Losien's hands pinned behind her back. Losien thinks to do the same, though, and in a strange twist, they manage to stand back to back, restraining each other by the other's upper arm against each other. They each attempt to struggle out of the other's grasp with no success.

Rachel: Well, this is a tricky situation we've gotten ourselves into. You should let go before I'm forced to do something drastic.

Losien: You first.

Rachel: Look, it's not like you can do anything else right now, so just--

Losien: Is that Geb?

Rachel: What? Where?

As Rachel releases her grasp to try and look in Losien's direction, Losien whips Rachel away from her, pushing her hard for good measure. Rachel falls to the ground dazed.

Losien: Not so nice to be on the other end of a trick, is it?

Rachel: Oooo... I didn't think you had it in you. Let's step things up a notch.

Rachel throws a colorful ball on the ground, which explodes in a dazzle of light and smoke. When it clears, a terrifying humanoid monster stands in its place, lumbering towards Losien.

Losien: You can summon monsters?!

Rachel: Oh, you know how it is. They're just sitting around, waiting for me to use them.

Losien: Wait a minute...

Losien grabs the top of the monster's head and pulls at it, tearing away as a mask to reveal one of the random audience members that had been watching their fight. The audience member, terribly confused, makes its way back to the seating. Rachel seems surprised herself.

Rachel: But that was supposed to be an actual monster...

Losien: You trick people, Rachel. It can be your weakness. It's only natural in this story that I be able to foil your attempts to fool me.

Rachel: Wielding the story, I see. Cute.

Losien: Just promise that you'll stop tricking us, Rachel. I may not be as good as my brother, but as you can see, I'm good enough to pass whatever pranks you try to throw at me.

Rachel: Is that so?

Rachel seems to consider this over.

Rachel: Very well. You have proven yourself, and so, I will not play anymore tricks on you or the other heroes. Shake on it?

Losien: Yes. Phew, what a relief! I'm glad we could settle this peacefully...

As Losien goes to shake Rachel's hand, though, Rachel's hand detaches, gripping like a vice onto Losien's wrist. The false hand reveals itself to have an explosive plastique attached to it, with a timer ticking down from one minute. Rachel shakes her sleeve to reveal her real hand. She turns away, laughing and wiping a tear from her eye.

Rachel: HAHAHA! I can't believe you actually fell for that! Oh man, that'll never get old! Hahahaha-- hey!

Rachel is restrained from behind by Losien, who is holding Rachel in a full nelson.

Rachel: Are you insane? What are you doing?

Losien smiles slyly.

Losien: Giving them what they want.

Rachel eyes widen. The timer ticks down closer to zero...

=================================================

In the Writer's World Liberius the Writer sat at his lonesome desk just rereading the past page of the NeS over again for what seemed like the hundredth time. He was starting to look a little rough around the edges. He hadn't bothered shaving for a couple days and decided to make himself more 'comfy' at his desk. Which pretty much meant he untucked his shirt, rolled up his sleaves, loosened his belt, & unbuttoned his wastecoat. To LibtW, this was slacking off.

GebtW & AltW hadn't help but notice either. AltW popped his head over the small wall that separated their spaces.

AltW: Hey, Lib... What's up?

LibtW: Just thinking.

AltW: About what? ARE YOU GOING TO POST!?! OMG, THAT WOULD BE AWESOME!

LibtW: Uhhh, yeah, eventually. But at the moment I was thinking about something else.

AltW: Oh... About what then?

LibtW: There seems to be a huge absence of a female presence around here.

AltW: Well, duh. What's your point?

LibtW: You aren't bothered by that at all?

AltW: Nope.

LibtW: ... You're living vicariously through your character aren't you?

AltW: Yup. By the way, thanks for giving me a hot red head girlfriend.

LibtW: *sigh* Not a problem.

Geb the Writer, finally seeing some activity in the dead office, walks over to the pair of cubicles.

GebtW: What's going on over here? Why aren't you two writing?

AltW: I think Lib was trying to wax philosophical with me a bit.

GebtW: Eh? Trying to what?

LibtW: We were just talking, Geb. I'll post something here in a minute.

GebtW: Yeah, like I haven't heard that one before.

LibtW: You're not still mad about the whole incident from a month ago are you?

GebtW: I only just now got all the papers back into their proper stylishly unkept piles. You know how long it took me to find the perfect look between "untidy" & "too busy doing important things to clean"?

AltW: Entirely too long.

LibtW: Hey, Al, remember what I said earlier?

AltW: Yeah.

LibtW: This is the perfect example of what happens.

AltW: Gotcha.

GebtW: Regardless of whatever you two are talking about, just don't let it happen again.

AltW: Or else what? You'll fire him?

LibtW: We don't even get paid.

GebtW: That's not the point... the point is... Well... GAHHH! Just please don't do it again.

GebtW walks away defeated.

LibtW: Like that right there. Perfect example of why I want to get out of here.

AltW: What?! You want to leave? You want to... stop writing?

LibtW: No... yes... kinda. I don't want to stop, so don't worry about that. I just feel like a change of pace. You know what I mean?

AltW: You lost me at "kinda".

LibtW: Just promise me something, Al.

AltW: Ummm, ok?

LibtW: Don't make me do anything stupid.

AltW: What, like go off the deep end and do something crazy in the office? Because everyone does that at some point or another. It's a kind of rite of passege.

LibtW: Not exactly what I mean. Let's just say, you're a good writer & I trust you to not get me killed. Because that would be bad.

AltW: I still have no idea what you're talking about but thanks for the compliment?

LibtW: Not a problem. Now if you don't mind, I have to write something real quick and get it out of the way.

AltW: Sure...

AltW sat back down in his cubicle leaving LibtW to himself. He started to pen a letter then, when he was done, he folded it and tucked it under the keyboard to where it stuck out just enough to notice. Liberius the Writer then began to type up his post...

====================================================

In the small office of the hidden mech base, our heros stand around trying to process the obvious plot device. However, as with most things in the NeS, it goes nowhere pretty fast.

Geb: Something tells me this is supposed to be pretty important.

Lib: Hmmm... I find it strangely coincidental that we need to search for a book and this one, figuratively speaking, falls right into our lap. I have a feeling this could be of use.

Al: More use than a Book of Gold?

Lib: Yes.

Al: Are you absolutely sure about that? Because a book that could help us turn whatever into gold seems pretty important to me.

Captain Von Trufflesnout: Pfft... Materialist.

Al: Smart story-wielding talking dog.

Geb: Was that supposed to be an insult?

Al: I screwed it up didn't I?

Lib: Yeah. I think you lost the premise of it somewhere in there.

Al: Crap.

===================================================

In the Writer's office, Liberius the Writer gets interrupted by a rap on his cubicle wall.

Delivery man: Package for a Mr. Liberius Vir the Writer?

LibtW: That's me.

Delivery man: Sign here, please.

LibtW took the package, signed, and turned to return to his post as the delivery man walked out. Only he was interupted yet again.

AltW: What was that about? You got something?

LibtW: Yup. Ordered a new smartphone online. Lets me post anywhere I go. This way I don't actually have to be in the office to write something.

AltW: Cool. I want one. Well...

LibtW: Well what?

AltW: Aren't you going to try it out?

LibtW: It's not for me.

AltW: Oh. Then who?

LibtW: Well... it is for me, but not for me exactly.

==================================================

Liberius sat at the desk tapping his ringed fingers on the wood while watching the side tracked group argue about the finer points of insults.

Geb: All I'm saying is that if you are going to say something, leave out anything that might be complimentory.

Al: But if it's true isn't it more insulting?

Mia: Yes, but only sometimes.

Captain: Yeah, like if it actually degrades the person. Calling a dog a dog isn't that insulting.

Lib, getting a little frustrated at the lack of focus, cuts in.

Lib: Listen guys, don't you think we should be talking about the book and/or the quest? Not semantics?

Geb: If you got an idea Lib, just say it.

Lib: Well, I've been thinking about this book. And here's what I figure...

=================================================

Liberius the Writer stops typing. He double checks that the letter is visable and double checks his personal items. He takes the last sip of his coffee then he takes the ring from his pocket and slides it on his finger...

Oddly enough, the scene was far less dramatic the second time around. There was a simple 'Whoosh' and suddenly, Liberius was sitting at the desk. His tapping fingers silenced by the paper of the note sticking out on the desk. He picked it up. It read 'For Liberius' on the front. Then he opened it and read the letter...



Liberius grabbed the package and opened it. Taking out the phone he grabbed the rest of his things and took off out of the office in the midst of the small confusion that was going on. After getting some distance away, he turned it on and began to finish the entry started by his Writer counterpart...


================================================

There was a 'Whoosh' in the hidden mech office. Liberius the Writer sat with a smug triumphant smile on his face.

Al: Well are you going to tell us or no?

LibtW: Tell you what?

Geb: Your plan?

Captain Von Trufflesnout: Are you guys dense? Take a closer look at him.

Mia: Did you just do a wardrobe change right infront of us?

LibtW: Nope.

Geb: You do look different... I can't quite put my finger on it though...

LibtW: What if I told you I'm not the same person who was sitting here two seconds ago?

Al: You're Liberius, right? At least, you look like you.

LibtW: I'm Liberius... the Writer. Felt like a little time off so I came here. It's a long story... but in short, things are more interesting and I figured the other Lib could use a break from you guys.

Gebohq: A Writer, huh? As in, not just a guy who writes normal stuff here in this world, but one that write about us and the Never-ending Story?

Liberius the Writer: Yes, that kind.

Gebohq: I remember meeting a bunch of them one time. Looking back, it really wasn't as exciting as I thought it'd be.

Liberius the Writer: Well, real life tends to be rather boring, ourselves included. That's why we write about you guys, I guess. We want to bring to life something more exciting.

Al Ciao: Filled with pain and deadly dangers at every turn even. As they say...

Gebohq and Al Ciao: ...bastards, the Writers are.

Liberius the Writer: Hey! I'd like to point out that Geb... well, I can't argue with him. He's really got little reason to like us at this point.

Gebohq: Which reminds me.

Gebohq then promptly pops some anti-depressant pills in his mouth.

Liberius the Writer: But Al's got no reason to complain! I wrote in a hot girlfriend for you!

Mia: Written or not, I'm glad I found you, Al.

Al Ciao looks at both Mia and Liberius the Writer.

Al: I'm grateful as well.

Liberius the Writer: Then again, happy romances don't make for good stories...

Al: What do you mean?

Liberius the Writer: What? Oh, nothing. Just talking to myself.

Gebohq: So, Writer-Lib, since you're here, that means you have some mastery over everything, yes? Like my ability to wield the story, except on steroids or something, right?

Liberius the Writer: Uh...not really, no.

Gebohq: Oh.

Al: But you have on you a pen of power, which allows you to at least create things on the spot, of course.

Liberius the Writer: I, uh, have a pen, but it just writes normally.

Mia: I know! he's a writer, so he knows what's going to happen before it's written! Writers always have plans for their stories!

Liberius the Writer: You do realize this is the Never-ending Story, don't you? As far as I know, the last Writer who tried to plan something ran out into the streets naked, screaming his head off hysterically about the story being impossible to control and that it'd be the end of him or some such. No, I never made plans a post from now, much less the whole story.

Gebohq: So, if I got this right, you're pretty much like the actual Lib, with no special powers or abilities or anything.

Al: That's not true.

Gebohq: Oh yeah! Lib had a whistle to summon a taxi. So you're even more useless than Al.

Al: That's pretty bad. Hey, wait a minute...

Mia distracts Al with a kiss before he can follow up on his thoughts.

Liberius the Writer: At least I can count on the dog to be by my side.

Liberius the Writer looks to Captain Von Trufflesnout, the dog, with arms wide open.

Captain: I wouldn't hold your breath.

Liberius the Writer slumps his arms to his side.

Liberius the Writer: I can feel the love. Note to self: write the characters to like me more when I get back...

==================================================

Somewhere out in the Writer's World Liberius hides out, probably in a 24 hour diner drinking massive amounts of coffee, and starts typing on his fancy phone...


==================================================

Geb: Why in the world did you come here then?

Liberius the Writer: Eh... I needed a vacation.

Al: A vacation? Why?

Lib the Writer: We sit in a cramped office writing and cracking a bunch of jokes with eachother. When we aren't typing anything up Geb's Writer counterpart is riding our butts to actually post something. Normally it's not so bad but we don't get paid. So I felt like a break.

Geb: My Writer is in charge?

LibtW: Yup. Oddly enough though, he is much less stable than you are.

Al: No no... I meant why here? Why the NeS? Danger everywhere, the threat of death looming around any corner & even the sound track is terrible.

LibtW: It's all about the ladies.

Mia: What?

LibtW: No, not you. You're Al's girl. What I mean is... Well, that cramped office is filled with just a bunch of guys. No females whatsoever. I needed a little 'change of scenery' so to speak.

Al: I hear that! Completely understandable in my opinion.

Al and Mia look at eachother and smile knowingly. They then proceed to continue their kissing session. Geb, Captain, and LibtW decide to leave them be in the office and go for a little stroll around the base.

Geb: Alright... Your motives, however impure, are understandable.

Captian: I don't see anything 'Impure' about it.

Geb: You wouldn't.

Captain: Hey, just because I'm a dog and free of your human concepts of social acceptability doesn't mean I don't have feelings.

LibtW: By the way, I snagged the stress ball before we left. You want it?

Captain Von Trufflesnout: BALL!? WHERE?!

Liberius the Writer took out the little ball from his pocket and threw it down a random hall. Captain took off chasing it regardless of the helpless personel that occupied the corridor.

Geb: Thanks for saving me from that ackward situation.

LibtW: No problem. I wrote him, I know what he likes. I have some bacon strips for later, too. But don't push your luck. He still might want to bite you. He has a pretty good memory about that kind of thing.

Geb, catching the first part of the statement, started to get a little more curious.

Geb: You wrote him?

LibtW: Yup. Women aren't the only reason I decided to come here. What writer wouldn't want to physically visit a world that he helped, even in some small part, create. It really is a writer's wet dream.

Geb: But you have no power here! You're just a guy now! Why are we even calling you a Writer?

LibtW: Not entirely true.

Geb: What do you mean?

LibtW: Although I may not be currently writing, I do have intimate knowledge of the entire NeS up to the point I entered it. Even the stuff you aren't in on. The search party, the training team, and even a couple others you don't know.

Geb: We'ld find out eventually. Nothing special. You still have no powers.

LibtW: Heh... somewhat untrue still. See, I can actually pop back to my world if I feel like and write again. Which pretty much gives me infinate power in my opinion. Also, your Lib... He's out there writing for me right now. There's no telling what he has planned. He can easily come up with something for me. Especially since if something happens to me here, something happens to him. I can't write myself to have any powers in my current state, but I expect that sometime soon something is going to pop up and he, or one of the other Writers, have my back.

Geb: You seem a bit bolder than the other Liberius.

LibtW: That's because I am a completely different person. It's a whole new story Geb. Be ready for it.

Geb: So, 'Writer'... What happens now?

LibtW: Time to get the plot rolling. One thing first though.

LibtW looks up in the sky in general, which looks kind of weird considering they are indoors and he looks like a crazy man staring at the ceiling.

LibtW: Hey, boss... You mind writing me a cup of coffee in here?

A larger than usual coffee mug with the words "I'm a Writer, don't mess with me." printed on it materializes on the floor infront of him filled to the brim with steamy black coffee. LibtW smiles as he picks it up, reads it, and takes a victorious 'I told you so' sip.

LibtW: Yeah. It just happened. Deal with it.

IN THE WRITER'S WORLD!

Al Ciao the Writer: So, Lib, want to order a-- Lib?

He looks around Lib the Writer's cubicle, finding it empty. He takes the time to thoroughly check it, which, since it's a tiny cubicle a hamster would feel cramped in, takes all of 2 seconds. Quirking his brow, Al Ciao the Writer looks around the office. Lib is nowhere in sight. Puzzled, he scratches his head.

Geb the Writer: Hey Al! Why aren't you writing!

Al Ciao the Writer: Well, I wanted to order a pizza, and you know that office policy is that the noob pays for it, but Lib's nowhere to be found.

Geb the Writer: He left the premises without my permission?! I'll string him by his thumbs! I'll dip him in boiling oil! I'll--

Al Ciao the Writer: Zounds! He... he must have been raptured!

The pair fall deathly silent, staring at each other wordlessly for a long moment.

Al Ciao the Writer: You know what this means?

Geb the Writer: Oh, yeah...

Al Ciao and Geb the Writers: The biggest ever LARPing of After the End(TM)!!!

ACtW: Let's loot and pillage!

GtW: Let's "comfort" the ladies!

JM walks up, noticing their conversation.

JM the Writer: Guys? There's an inherent flaw to your logic.

GtW: Are you going to point out the fact that Lib's clothes aren't in a pile in his cubicle?

JMtW: No...

ACtW: Or that no man knows the day or the hour?

JMtW: No...

GtW: What then?

JMtW: If there HAD been a rapture, surely I would have been taken!

-----

IN THE STORY WORLD!

Geb: No fair! It's like you have your own personal genie!

LibTW: And if you find a lamp or a magic ring, you too can have one!

Geb strikes a heroic pose.

Geb: Yes. I, Gebohq Joseph Anne-Marie Simon, shall embark on a noble and heroic quest to find the Jeannie of the Lamp!

LibTW: Er, how many quests are we on right now? There's the Book of Gold, the obvious plot device back in the office, the other two parties... You want to add something else to the mix?

Geb: Sure, why not? Besides, you said it yourself: you didn't have any plans for resolving any of the other stuff.

-----

AT THE MOVIE SET!

Citizen Rex: Now that this movie has been successfully produced, I shall receive the fame and acclaim I rightfully deserve!

Cool Matty: If that's true, no one will like this movie!

Mimiru: Be nice, Matthew.

Cool Matty: NICE?! He made me shave my head and planted one on you every chance he could get in the filming, and you're telling me to be NICE?

Mimiru: Matthew...

Cool Matty: WHAT?!

Mimiru: I find your shaved head to be incredibly sexy.

Cool Matty's face slackens in surprise. Then a grin spreads over his face.

Cool Matty: Really. Hey, baby, c'mere...

[THE FOLLOWING SCENE HAS BEEN CENSORED FOR THE GOOD OF THE YOUNGSTERS]

Mimiru: A'ight, we're now ready to go find info on some of the other baddies!

Citizen Rex: Well, there's Evil Geb in London... Lucifer aka Jim in Florida at Disneyworld... the Censor, hanging out in mid air... JM, watching bad movies at his pad...

Cool Matty: Uh, guys? It's not like we really found out a whole lot about GUNTHER.

Citizen Rex: Sure we did. He's the famous musician, and he mind controls Geronimo.

Cool Matty: But shouldn't we find out his motives, or his location?

Citizen Rex: Getting my powerplaying abilities back from Evil Geb is top priority. To London we go!

At that moment, Citizen Rex crumples to the ground unconscious. Behind him can be seen Geronimo, his eyes glazed over, brandishing a wiffle bat.

Geronimo: Cool-Matty-must-die.

Cool Matty: What?

Geronimo: Cool-Matty-must-die.

Mimiru: GUNTHER'S taken control of him again! But why does he want to kill you specifically, Matthew? Matthew?

Cool Matty is being chased around by Geronimo with his deadly wiffle bat.

Mimiru: *sigh* Matthew! Just use your flame powers! But gently, we don't want to hurt him!

Cool Matty: Oh yeah!

He skids to a stop and turns around, snapping his fingers. A blue fireball whooshes at Geronimo, who bats it aside with his lethal weapon and leaps forward, proceeding to wiffle Cool Matty into submission.

Cool Matty: Ow! Ow! For the love of God, WHY?

Geronimo: You-killed-my-father. Prepare-to-die.

Mimiru: I think GUNTHER is speaking through him!

Cool Matty: Owowowowowowowow!

Mimiru: GUNTHER! I know you can hear me!

Geronimo: Correct-mate-of-my-father's-killer.

Cool Matty: I never killed your father! I never killed anyone!

Mimiru: ...other than those countless henchmen throughout the pages...

Geronimo: You-destroyed-Vukothrax.

Cool Matty: What?

Mimiru: The demon mage from the war in Hell way back on page 2 of this thread? What an obscure reference!

Geronimo: And-one-that-no-new-reader-needs-knowledge-of. Just-that-Cool-Matty-killed-him.

Cool Matty: He was freakin' trying to kill ME! And he killed my parents!

Geronimo: Silence-worm.

He proceeds to continue to smack away with the wiffle bat. Mimiru sighs. She strides up to the possessed Geronimo and plucks the wiffle bat out of his hands.

Geronimo: You-win-for-now-mortal-woman. But-I-shall-have-my-vengeance.

The pizza boy slumps as the mind control ends.

Mimiru: Geronimo! Are you okay?

Geronimo: Yeah... what happened?

Cool Matty: Never mind about him! What about me?

Mimiru: You're a big boy, you can handle it.

Cool Matty: Give me that wiffle bat, I'm gonna teach that kid a lesson...

Geronimo's eyes widen, and he hides behind behind Mimiru.

Geronimo: Mimiru, I thought you said he wasn't gonna be mean anymore!

With a groan, Citizen Rex sits up, rubbing the back of his head.

Citizen Rex: ...what happened?

Cool Matty: *snickers* You were knocked unconscious by a scrawny kid wielding a wiffle bat.

Citizen Rex: WHAT?!

Mimiru: It's not like you fared any better, Matthew.

Citizen Rex: I, Citizen Rex, could never be felled except by a legion of the mightiest entities of the multiverse!

Mimiru: Er, yes, that's it. A pantheon of evil deities dropped out of the sky on black wings and sneak attacked you.

Citizen Rex: They must be one of our unknown enemies! We must seek them out!

Cool Matty: Actually, it was just Geronimo here with--

Mimiru elbows him sharply.

-----

ELSEWHERE!

It is a dark, shadowy chamber. Ominous eyes peer out of the darkness. Candles with eerie green flame shed no illumination. Runes scrawled in blood mark the stone walls. And, most chilling of all, a "My Little Pony" poster hangs in a corner.

A voice, its form unseen, speaks.

GUNTHER: You-were-right. Cool-Matty-did-indeed-kill-my-father-Vukothrax. He-admitted-to-it.

There is the faint glow of a Skype hookup on a monitor. On the screen is a disheveled young man, sprawled on a dirty couch, surrounded by potato chips, beer cans, and scattered DVDs.

JM: It is as I told you. Join my alliance of evil, and you shall have your vengeance.

A cigarette lighter flashes, briefly illuminating the florid face of a Texan businessman clutching a heavy book bound in gold plate.

Buck Takes: And I will, too?

JM: Of course. I already led you to the Book of Gold, have I not?

Buck Takes: Yes, indeed, pardner, and I'm once again richest son-of-a-gun in the universe.

A sinister, disembodied voice speaks up.

Censor: [THE NES IS ENTIRELY OUT OF CONTROL, JM. YOU SAID YOU HAD A WAY TO CONTROL IT.]

JM: Indeed. Destroy it. Preferably through bad writing.

Censor: [ELEGANT AND EFFECTIVE. I APPROVE.]

JM: It's up to you to censor any efforts by the heroes to stop us. Particular any scene where Highemperor regains his powers.

An enormous horned head with red skin and slitted serpentine eyes leans out of the shadowy recesses.

High Imp: And I will be able to wreak my vengeance upon Highemperor.

An ominous chuckle floats out of the gloom. In the dim green light of a nearby candle is revealed a face surprisingly like Gebohq's.

Evil Geb: Think of the delicious chaos that one act would cause, much less all of our actions together.

Another answers him, his face lit by the flames dancing across the surface of his demonic body.

Lucifer/Jim: I thought you were a Protector of the Plotfractal now, Evil Geb.

Evil Geb: Indeed I am - much as you once were. But joining this alliance will bring conflict to the NeS, which is badly needed. Also for the evulz.

High Imp: Lucifer, I'm surprised you joined this alliance. After all, you did keep me confined in your Great Granite Fortress for (p)AGES...

Lucifer: Politics. Who do you think distracted the guards during your jailbreak?

High Imp: I see.

JM: And what do you want out of this?

Lucifer: I want TotallyEvil extradited back to Canada from Disneyworld. She totally was NOT supposed to escape. Oh, and I want the soul of this violinist kid named Johnny.

JM: It shall be done. And what of you two?

In a final pitch-black corner are two ominous voices.

Ominous Voice #1: Our identities and motives have not yet been revealed by the Writers.

Ominous Voice #2: But we are the final two of the 11 villains the Mysterious Stranger named to the heroes.

Evil Geb: Eleven? I count nine of us here.

High Imp: My...old friend Highemp... and Geronimo are the other two. But Geronimo is just a mind-controlled puppet, and Highemperor is the one I seek destroyed. And you, JM, have currently stolen his power, have you not?

JM: Yes?

High Imp: Then you have my thanks. He is at my mercy...

Evil Geb: Wait! We're missing the most important thing of all!

High Imp: What's that?

Evil Geb: A name for our group!

Lucifer: How 'bout... Dark Alliance!

Everyone looks at him.

Lucifer: What? It's a great video game!

But as the members of the Dark Alliance scheme, they also scheme against one another, as well, in their private thoughts.

Evil Geb: If this gets too bad, I'll have to jump ship to the heroes' side to maintain balance. I'll keep my eyes and ears open to gather intel in case that should happen. But first, as much chaos as I can manage.

Lucifer: TotallyEvil's not the only one going back to Hell, High Imp. Oh, no. Recapturing you will give me a popularity boost among my demons and on the world stage. Imagine all the new victims that will want to sell their souls to me!

Censor: [Once the NeS is censored, I shall have to censor this villains, too...]

The sinister aspect of the "My Little Pony" poster gazes down with dead eyes on the gathering...

B.U.M.P.!

Angie: Wonderful. Life would keep my travels from being smooth and boring. Cynthai, can you keep me posted on my ETA?

Cynthai: I wish I could, ma'am, but to be frank, predicting your ETA at the moment is virtually impossible.

Angie: Of course. *sigh* Just keep me posted on anything new in the meantime then.

Cynthai: Yes, ma'am.

(Non-Story Note: Yeah, still stuck on what exactly I want to do with these characters, and I'm a bit busy, so this is all I got for the moment.)

Angie: So we have a description of a real life Iron Man talking to cardinals at the Vatican, in the 1960's no less. And we have a book that is exceedingly rare, the Ye Olde Historie Fantastique. Finally, a location that until now not only was a mystery, but likely did not exist at all. Without a doubt this screams Thand.

Cynthai: Do you really believe in such things?

Angie: As it stands? Absolutely not. My theory is this supposedly rare book is nothing more than a decoy. The book itself likely contains other important information for Thand. Whether the book still exists or not isn't terribly important, but who has, or had it, does. In addition, a Vatican cardinal could easily mistaken traditional armor as something more. And finally, Morchazima is a trap.

Cynthai: A trap?

Angie: It didn't exist until it was observed. It has gone this long without being observed. Thand allowed it to be so. Only one reason he would want to do that, and that's because he wants someone to find him.

Cynthai: Why would Thand suddenly want to be discovered, after all this time?

Angie: Something may have happened. But it's important to note, it's definitely a trap. He's setting up this meeting, but he's setting it up on his terms. His rules. Only question is, what sort of trap should we be expecting?

Cynthai: You're not considering going yourself, are you?

Angie: Not considering, I am going.

Cynthai: But Miss Langley, you're not a field agent. You don't have combat experience. Why don't we send one of our trained agents to...

Angie: Absolutely not, I refuse. I need to go there. I cannot miss this chance to meet Thand, even if it is dangerous.

Cynthai: But...

Angie: Stop worrying. I am not going alone.

Cynthai: So who will you take with you?

Angie: You, of course.

Cynthai: But I'm in no condition... my frame doesn't even have limbs right now!

Angie: I'll be fulfilling that promise of mine right now. Submit a request for an express work order to Mr. Proctor himself. Tell him we're going to meet Thand, and I need you with me.

Cynthai: If he finds out you're going to see Thand, he's going to go himself. I'll be obligated to tell him everything.

Angie: He may want to, but I'm the only one with the directions. Just send in that request. When he calls you in an uproar, forward it to me and I'll deal with him. In the meantime, set up a flight back to HQ, and get yourself ready. We leave as soon as your frame is online.

Cynthai: Yes, ma'am.

Angie took a picture of the map with her phone, and left the library, making sure to thank the map librarian on the way out. She walked her way back to her hotel, ordered room service, and collapsed on the bed. She was mentally exhausted, and it wouldn't be long before she would need to have a long, dangerous conversation with Mr. Proctor. He was a nice man, but Thand was extremely important to him, even more than to her. However, she knew that was why he couldn't go. He would be too quick to action. He would fall for Thand's trap.

============================================

Out in the world somewhere, Liberius enjoys his time outside of the NeS. He takes a break from living it up and sits down quietly typing away on his phone.

=============================================

At the not-so-secret-anymore Mech base...

Geb: Alright so what's the plan?

LibtW: Oh stop all this nonsense!

Al: Eh?

Mia: But we need to plan our...

LibtW: Nope. We don't. We've already taken too long trying to "decide the next move". Trust me, I know. I've been writing this subplot for quite some time now. It's time to move on.

Captain: Wow. Look who grew a pair all of the sudden.

LibtW: You could say that... or... you could just listen to me as we get a move on since I have intimate knowledge of the story all the way up to when I entered it, AND, I can catch you guys up as we go.

Geb: That is completely out of line. No need to be so bossy. We need a...

LibtW: Don't even say 'plan' because we don't. Let's just say that Losien knows enough storywielding to get her and us along right now, so we can go pick them up out of the theater before Rachel's prank backfires and kills all of them.

Geb: They're in a theater? I thought they were montaging?

LibtW: 'Were' is the key word there. On top of that, we have bigger fish to fry. Walk and talk, friends... walk and talk...

LibtW turned on his heel and started walking into the hanger bay. Mia's mech was still in its vehicle mode. He motioned for everyone to get in as he got in himself. When everyone was safely inside and Mia was behind the helm, LibtW told her to take them to where the Taxi could pick them up.

Al: What exactly do you mean by bigger fish to fry Lib?

LibtW: It seems Thand is back in the game. I don't know how or to what extent, but he is coming back and we will have to deal with him. On top of that, I'm pretty sure Citizen Rex is going to lose it soon and become Highemp again. Which is good because HighImp is his enemy, so he'll help us there, but bad in every other aspect.

The mech roars across the frozen wasteland at record speed. Already they were halfway to their destination.

Geb: Did you just say Thand? Because I'm sure you just said Thand... I don't like that.

LibtW: Yes, I said Thand. We do, however, have a new, unexpected ally. I'll tell you more later, but in short she has no idea what she's getting into and we need to get to her at some point and help her out.

Al: GAHHH!!! Everyone is moving and talking so fast! It's sooo confusing!

The mech screeches to a halt just at the bottom of the snow capped hill the party arrived on at what seems like so long ago.

Mia: We're here.

Al: Uhhh... Lib? How do you plan on getting us out of here again? I mean... You're the Writer. Will the Taxi even work for you?

Everyone piled out of the car and LibtW took a whistle from out of his satchel.

LibtW: When Lib & I switched, I made sure neither of us were carrying our respective satchels. After all, what good are they in a different world? I have your Lib's bag and he has mine. I have his whistle.

LibtW blew on it and sure enough, the Interdimentional Taxi came out of nowhere.

Driver: Took you guys long enough. Oh... you. You're a Writer, right?

LibtW: Indeed.

Driver: F***ing Writers... ugh... This is going to cause me some trouble again isn't it?

LibtW: Maybe. We have a few more people than last time. And we have a Mech we need to take with us.

Driver: So?

LibtW: You have anything a bit bigger than just a cab? Say a partybus that can also haul that thing behind it?

Driver: You are one giant pain. This is why I don't like Writers. They know too much. I'll be right back.

The Taxi drove off and after a few moments, an Interdimentional Partybus pulled up complete with a trailer hitch behind it for the mech.

Geb: How in the...

Al: Actually, I can believe it. Most cab places also have limos and buses. It's not completely strange.

LibtW: No time... Everyone inside. Driver, take us to the theater where Cris, Losien, & Rachel are at.

After hooking up the mech, they all got in the bus and made themselves at home with all the extra room. Once everyone was in, the Driver gave the horn a blow and took off. While they waited to arrive, LibtW gave them a little bit more information as to where things were going. It was cut short before he could give them any juicy bits however when they suddenly stopped at the theater. Losien and Rachel were struggling with eachother infront of a rather large crowd. In the middle of which stood Cris pawning his goods. Geb stood confused watching Rachel and his sister and wondered who he should help.

LibtW: Captain Von Trufflesnout... Would you mind taking care of that bomb real quick before we all die?

Captain: What bomb?

LibtW: The fake hand. Grab it and take it away. You can do it faster than any of us. Grab it, dump it, and get yourself a safe distance away.

Captain Von Trufflesnout ran to the fighting pair and snatched the fake hand in his teeth. He took off like a bolt of lightening and, just as quick, he was back bomb free.

Captain: Done.

Mia: Where did you take it?

=============================================


Inside the office of the mech base, a hand with a timer slowly counts down. As it strikes zero, it explodes in a harmless shower of confetti.

Our heroes - at least the male ones, anyway - stare slackjawed as Losien and Rachel roll around in the mud. They are--

[THE GRAPHIC DEPICTION OF THIS MUDFIGHT AS BEEN CENSORED FOR THE GOOD OF SOCIETY]

Geb: What?!

Al: That tears it, we HAVE to get rid of that Censor!

Mia: Don't tell me you actually wanted to look at other women, Al!

Al: ...no! Of course not! I was just thinking, what if we ever want to--

[THE SUGGESTIVE NATURE OF THIS COMMENT HAS BEEN CENSORED FOR THE GOOD OF SOCIETY]

Al: --we won't be able to if the Censor cuts it out! See, it just happened again!

Mia: You're right, darling! I love it when you cut to the heart of things!

At this point, Lib the Writer is holding Losien and Rachel apart, who are frantically trying to reach across the distance
and claw each other.

Lib the Writer: This ends NOW!

Rachel and Losien subside reluctantly. The crowd boos. Lib ignores them. Cris, sensing imminent departure - and more
relevantly, the imminent dispersal of the crowd of potential customers - packs up his chikin stand and loads it in the
Interdimensional Partybus.

Cris: Nice upgrade, y'all. Anybody want some chikin?

Everyone groans, except Mia.

Mia: Sure, I'll take some!

Cris: That'll be $8.52.

Mia raises an eyebrow, with just a hint of a threat in it. Cris is blinded by profit, however, and doesn't notice it.

Cris: Miss?

Mia: Seriously? For two chicken legs?

Cris: CHIKIN legs. But yes, they're totally worth it.

Mia leans in really close to Cris and speaks softly. She holds up some car keys.

Mia: See these?

Cris: ...yeah?

Mia: These keys go to that mech over there hitched to the back of the partybus.

Cris: Looks likes a car to me.

Mia: But it turns INTO a mech. A gigantic, three-story tall mech. Or skyscraper-tall, depending on who's writing at that
point.

Cris: Given the law of conservation of mass, how can a normal size car turn into something that big?

Mia: Wow, this is the first time I've had one of you NeS hero-types actually use logic. See, the extra mass is folded into
subdimensions buried within the quantum level of the-- Look, the point is, I own and pilot that mech. That gigantic, lethal,
restaurant-crushing mech.

Cris: Ah. Your point is well-taken.

Mia: Well?

Cris: That'll be $7.99.

Mia: What?!

Cris: It's a discount, don't complain.

Mia: Yeah, a 53 cent discount. What'd you do, take out the tax or something?

Cris shifts his feet uneasily.

Mia: You DID take out the tax! Are you that attached to profit that you don't want to give up any of the money that would go
to you?

Cris: No, I'm attached to chikin, and I'm saving up for a big rotating restaurant on the top of a skyscraper in every major
city in the world.

Mia: You realize that way out here, there is no official sovereignty? Meaning no reason to collect taxes?

Cris: Shh! Don't let the other customers know that!

Mia: Uh-huh. Been getting a little on the side, eh? You better just GIVE me the chikin, free, or I spill the beans to ALL
your customers.

The struggle is apparent on Cris' face, but at last he relents.

Cris: Here you go. But remember - the first one is always free.

Victorious, Mia returns to the other heroes, scarfing down her chikin legs. Losien and Rachel have settled down, and
everyone is on the Interdimensional Partybus.

Lib: Next stop, a movie set!

Captain: I thought Citizen Rex, Cool Matty, and Mimiru were in Peru, or Paraguay, or something.

Lib: Yes, but it turned out to be a movie set simulating a South American village.

Captain: Somewhere in there is a commentary on Neil Gaiman's fiction-within-fiction, I'm sure...

-----

In a flash of light, Citizen Rex reappears on the movie set before Cool Matty, Mimiru, and Geronimo.

Cool Matty: Where did you go all of a sudden? You were gone the entire last post!

Citizen Rex: I hunted down all those evil deities that sneak attacked me.

Cool Matty: What?

He suddenly notices splotches of glowing divine blood on Rex's uniform.

Cool Matty: Mimiru, you've got to tell him--

Mimiru: Hush!

At that moment, the Interdimensional Partybus drives up. The newly arrived hero-types unload and gather around our
erstwhile movie stars.

Geb: Hey y'all, whatcha doing on a movie AH-HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA COOL MATTY'S BALD AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!

Matty glares at him, and blue sparks appear on his fingertips, threatening to leap the distance to Geb.

Al: Hey Geb, it's not nice to laugh *catches a glimpse of Matty* HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA *snort* WE SHOULD TOTALLY DRAW AN 8 ON
THE TOP!

Lib: C'mon y'all, we don't have much time!

Geronimo: Too-late.

Mia: Huh? Why is that little boy glaring at us like that, and talking in that funny voice?

Mimiru: The glare is from being mind-controlled by the demonic spawn GUNTHER. The voice thing is his sinuses.

Al: Er, GUNTHER?

Geronimo: What-is-it-foolish-mortal?

Al: Why did you choose to possess a pizza boy?

Geronimo: What?

The possessed pizza boy looks down at himself, then rushes over to Cool Matty, pulling down his head so he can look at his
reflection on the mageling's shiny pate.

Geronimo: Auuggghhh-how-the-blue-blazes-did-this-happen?

Geb: I take it it was a mistake?

Geronimo: I-was-trying-to-call-a-frozen-mech-base-and-mind-control-this-mech-pilot-chick. Oh-I-see. The-pizza-place-is-666-
1396-the-mech-base-is-666-1369.

Captain: Well, there's no way you can take all of us, even with your wiffle bat.

Citizen Rex: Wait, what's this about a wiffle bat?

Geronimo: That's-what-you-think. To-me-CENSOR!

[I AM HERE, MY ALLY.]

Losien launches herself at the possessed pizza boy in a flying leap kick, heading right towards Geronimo's face--

[THIS ATTACK HAS BEEN CENSORED FOR THE GOOD OF MY ALLY]

Losien: Huh? I missed?!

Geronimo is standing there, unharmed, smirking. Cool Matty snaps his fingers.

Cool Matty: I got this.

He shoots an azure firebolt at Geronimo, at last venting his frustration into his attack--

[THIS FIREBALL HAS BEEN CENSORED FOR THE GOOD OF MY ALLY]

Geronimo: Fools! You-cannot-touch-me!

Geb: Blast! We need a plan to get rid of the Censor!

Al: Yeah! Then we can watch Losien and Rachel fight in the mud again! *catches Mia looking askance at him* Oh, and we can
defeat GUNTHER here.

Cris: I have a plan! We should--

[THIS PLAN HAS BEEN CENSORED FOR THE GOOD OF MYSELF.]

Cris: --isn't that a great plan?

Rachel: It would have been if we had actually heard it.

Cris: Oh, well, come here.

The heroes gather together in a huddle, and much whispering ensues. Then they break apart, nodding at each other.

Losien: Here goes nothin'...

She calls on the forces of the story, wielding the plot. Suddenly Team Beta appears!
Team Beta is a notorious mercenary team often hired by villains as bodyguards or soldiers, and they are very effective,
especially against males. They consist entirely of voluptuous females, clad in skimpy--

[UH-OH, I'VE GOT TO CENSOR THIS!]

The Censor thus occupied, the heroes are free to enact the rest of their plan.

Lib: Okay, time to overturn the Supreme Court's obscenity laws, thus robbing the Censor of his power!

Mia: I'm a little unclear on how we're supposed to do that. Wouldn't that kind of appeal take a long time? No matter how
skilled your lawyer is - what'd you say his name was? Kreeg?

-----

In the U.S. Supreme Court, nine justices sit on the bench. Before them is a diminutive figure - but don't call him a
midget - with long dirty red hair and braided beard, a horned metal cap, and generally filthy appearance. His starched suit
is at odds with the battleaxe on his back.

Krig the Viking Attorney: Krig object!

Chief Justice: Overruled!

Krig: GAH! Silly dress-wearing man not overrule Krig! KRIG SMASH!

He leaps at the justices with his axe, smashing and slashing everywhere. Various crashing and splintering sounds and
desperate, pained cries can be heard behind the bench. Finally Krig hops up on the bench and pulls out a well-chewed cell
phone.

Krig: Krig appeal successfully!

-----

Geb hangs up his cell phone, a broad smile on his face.

Geb: Gentlemen, we are go.

Team Beta suddenly reappear in all his salacious glory, the Censor being robbed of his mandate.

[NO!!!!!!]

He disappears as only a disembodied voice can. Geronimo looks nervously at the heroes.

Fortunately for him, however, our upstanding male heroes are... distracted... by Team Beta. Rachel, Losien, Mimiru, and Mia
sigh in disgust.

Fortunately for Al, he recovers in time and looks at Mia.

Al: They don't hold a candle to you, honey.

Mia: Aw, c'mere baby!

They engage in an X-rated makeout session that the Censor is no longer able to censor, and Rachel, Losien, and Mimiru sigh
again. They round on Geronimo, eager to vent their frustration on him, and GUNTHER gulps with Geronimo's throat...

Suddenly, Cool Matty approaches from behind Gebohq, throwing a unique tar-like liquid all over Geb.

Geb: Ahh! What the hell, CM?!

CM looks at Geb without saying anything. The evil smirk on his face speaks volumes, however.

Geb: Uh oh. You ever had that feeling that you were being controlled by someone with less-than-kind motives?

CM and the rest of the gang proceed to throw Cris's leftover CHIKIN feathers all over Geb.

Cris: Wait, I could have sold that to make pillows! Nooooooo!

--------

Meanwhile, at the writer's sweatshop... CM the Writer and Al Ciao the Writer are looking out the window to the front door below. Geb the Writer approaches the door.

CMtW: Here it goes! He is going to FLIP OUT.

AltW: Shhh! Don't let him hear us!

GebtW jiggles the door, failing to open it.

GebtW: That's odd, I never lock the door. There's absolutely nothing of value in here for anyone to steal.

GebtW rummages through his things, to find a set of rusty old keys. He carefully places one into the lock, and twists. It snaps off inside the lock.

GebtW: Oh COME ON. Sigh, I'll have to get one of the guys inside to unl--

At that moment, he noticed CMtW and AltW in the window laughing so hard they forget to breathe.

GebtW: Yes yes, ha ha! Very funny, you punks! Now get down here and unlock the door!

AltW: No can do, Mr. Ohq the Writer!

CMtW: We're going to take a moment to write the story the way we want it, without you whipping us all the time!

GebtW: What?! What could you possibly want to write that I wouldn't allow you to?

AltW: Well, we were thinking about your character.

CMtW: And his... choice of clothing.

GebtW: You wouldn't.

AltW: Oh, we would. And we are!

Both: Bwahahahahahahhaa!

CMtW and AltW run to Geb's desk and proceed to write. Meanwhile, GebtW furiously tries to break in the door, cursing the reinforced glass he had installed to pursuade Krig the Writer to open the door instead of crashing through it, many years ago.

----

Meanwhile, back at the tar and feathering, Geb is now wearing a pink tutu, in addition to being covered in feathers.

Mimiru: Wait, how did that happen?!

CM: Who cares, it's absolutely hilarious! Hahahahahahahaha!

Al: He looks like a very confused Foghorn Leghorn! Aaaaahahahahaha!

Geb, extremely mad, starts to protest.

Geb: I say, I say, I say now, boy, I say now!

He stops, confused.

-----

CMtW: Brilliant! Now he's talking like Foghorn Leghorn!

ACtW: Bring out the licorice!

-----

Geb is howling with fury as Lib the Writer is lashing him with a licorice cat-o' nine-tails.

LibTW: I always wanted to do this to Geb, but never had the nerve. Take that! And that!

Cris: STOP!

Al and CM round on Cris.

CM: Whaddya mean, stop?

Al: If you want to defend Geb, prepare to join him!

Cris: No, no! It's just that, feathered as he is now, he would make the IDEAL mascot for my chikin shop!

CM and Al look at each other, evil grins spreading across their faces...

-----

Geb the Writer hears CMtW and ACtW laughing hysterically through the upstairs window.

GebtW: You'll be sorry when I get in there! You hear? Sorry!

He narrowly dodges a "Sorry!"(c) game, chucked out the window by one of the co-conspirators.

GebtW: That's it, I'm coming up there.

He starts to shimmy up a pipe along the wall, climbing up to the open office window.

ACtW: Oh, Geee-eebb...

GebTW: Huh?

He looks up to see CMtW and ACtW leaning out the window, wielding a crowbar, levering it between the wall and the pipe.

GebTW: You wouldn't.

CMtW pulls, and pop! goes the weasel - er, the piping, off the wall. Geb screams bloody murder as he tilts slowly away from the wall, then crashes onto the sidewalk with a resounding crash.

-----

Little Kid: Momma, look at the funny girl in the pink tutu!

Geb: I'm NOT a girl, punk!

Little Kid: Ah! Mommy, the funny girl's being mean to me!

Kid's Mother: How dare you? This world is going down the drain because of jerks like you.

Geb: But, but...

Cris: Geb! I don't hear you advertising!

Geb: *grumble grumble* Chikin! Get your chikin here!

Cris: That reminds me, time for your publicity stunt.

Geb: What?

Cris: First, you walk a tightrope between two skyscrapers while singing the Barney song. Then you sit in a water booth, where kids throw balls at a target to dunk you. Never fear, that tar and feathers are water-resistant! Finally, we have a ten-foot-tall mutant rooster that you will pretend to mate with!

Geb: Only pretend, right?

Cris: Well, YOU'LL be pretending. The rooster's been locked up in the chicken penitentiary for several years...

As Geb very, very reluctantly proceeds with the tightrope act, customers start streaming in.

Cris: Oh yes, hello everyone! Please please, one at a time! What can I get for you?

Customer 1: I want a seat!

Cris: Well of course, just take this stool right here. Now what can I get for you?

Customer 1: Huh? Oh, I just wanted somewhere to sit for the show!

Cris: You're not ordering any food?

Customer 1: At those prices? Are you kidding?

Cris: THAT'S IT, EVERYONE WHO IS HERE JUST TO WATCH GEB, GET OUT.

All of the new customers slowly get up and leave.

Cris: Oh come on!

With a resounding clang, the doors to the Massassi writers' office suite on the second floor burst open, revealing a very bedraggled and angry Geb the Writer. Cool Matty and Al Ciao the Writers whip around from writing on Geb's computer.

GtW: I have been hit in the head with a paint can...

CMtW: Yeah, I see it made an impression on you.

He and ACtW snicker. Ignoring them, GtW continues.

GtW: I have stepped on sharp thumbtacks...

ACtW: In the true NeS spirit, we shamelessly ripped off Home Alone.

GtW: I have been lured by porn mags that turned out to be pictures of fat old men.

CMtW: Yes! Brilliant of me, wasn't it?

ACtW: Er... how did you even know where to GET such filth?

CMtW: >.>

GtW: I have eaten a poisoned donut that has given me pneumonia...

ACtW: Wait, what? I didn't put that out there, did you, Cool Matty?

CMtW: Nope, not me.

GtW: Oh, come on! You mean to tell me that neither of you put that delicious looking donut with mint creme on top on that silver platter?

CMtW snorts milk out of his nose. Yes, he was conveniently drinking milk, just so we could have this effect.

CMtW: WAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!

GtW: What?

ACtW: Geb, I've seen that too. The "silver platter" is the trash can lid, and the "mint creme" is mold.

GtW's eye starts twitching.

GtW: I will make your characters rue the day they were born! I shall exact vengeance of your precious characters' hides! The oceans of NeS shall run a sweet-smelling orange with my wrath!

CMtW and ACtW look at each other, then high-five.

CMtW: Totally worth it!

ACtW: You said it.

GtW puts his head in his hands.

And now, back to our regularly scheduled posting!