Chapter Text

It had been precisely, down to the second, 100 days since the inauguration. 2400 hours on the dot. In the city that never sleeps, papers blew ominously in the wind like tumbleweeds. The big yellow headlines all concerned one man: the president. His first 100 days in office had been like no others. Every day some part of the government disappeared. These were not announced executive orders, but rather mysterious vanishings. It was as if the structures of the American government were being stolen one by one by some invisible force. Streets were becoming emptier as all disease seemed to be on the rise. And New York had it the worst. The rats were everywhere, all breathing billowing death from their wretched maws. Needless to say the vibes were bad. All the while, the President hid from the public eye in the White House. 

Even the White House itself seemed to be suffering. Its walls became greyer and greyer by the day. The only traffic in and out of the building was that of the president’s Cabinet. The Cabinet all wore cloaks, and were not identified to the public. Somehow not one of their identities had yet been revealed, though all were anxious to know who could be hiding under their masks. The entire Federal branch had seemingly overnight become some sort of dark chessmaster, with endless layers of mystery to be uncovered. Every journalist that tried to get even a smidgen of info was completely shut out. The White House was practically impenetrable to any man. It would take the will of god to rattle the shadowy bureaucracy from whatever its course may be.

In the dusty wine cellar under the President’s dining room, a figure emerged from a tall wooden box. Heavy white robes were draped over his gaunt figure and his red head. His face was quite literally skeletal, with a thin layer bloody something or other being the only meat on his bones. He did, however, have an impressive black beard. He took a single, shaky step forward, before looking down and slowly grabbing at the breast of his shirt. On it was the only modern item in the room, an empty “Hi, my name is:” tag. He knew nothing except for the fact that he knew nothing and was mad, so he figured that the knowledge of his name must be deduced on a wild rampage of revenge. He took another rattled step forward before slipping and absolutely eating shit. He looked back to what he slipped on, a weird-ass fish that had somehow fallen out of the fridge by one of the large wine barrels. He sighed and realized immediately that he couldn’t be a bad-ass action hero, and instead of discovering what his name might’ve been, he settled on a name that matched his exceedingly low expectations for himself: Red Herring.

He wrote the name onto the tag using his own blood on the tip of his finger. He got up and walked to the wooden stairs leading up and into the dining room. He recognized the White House, however nearly every window was shrouded. Clearly something was very wrong. God had likely put him on this Earth as an individual with the unique capabilities to solve whatever the fuck was going on here, but he simply did not believe he could do it. He followed the flickering exit signs while thinking about what might be good for lunch, not seeing a single soul until reaching the main proscenium. Across the hall was a hooded member of the cabinet.

The two slender figures stood, Red Herring’s flowing white garb juxtaposing the Cabinetman’s dark and sharp attire. The Cabinetman studied Red Herring closely. After a beat, he spoke in a sinister and gravelly voice. “You-”

“Jersey Mike’s” said Red Herring. 

“What?”

“I want Jersey Mike’s for lunch.”

The Cabinetman paused for a moment as he tried to decipher a hidden meaning behind what the heroic figure had just said. He opted to ignore it completely before continuing. “You’ve finally arrived. I figured He would send you. Nobody else has been able to infiltrate this House for 100 days, 5 minutes, and 26 seconds. You are a worthy opponent, and I will take great joy in ending your journey.”

“Ok, man.” said Red Herring as he approached the door.

“Wait, you fool! Don’t you want to fight….or something?”

“No man, I'm getting lunch.”

The Cabinetman sprinted at Red Herring and pinned him to the door. He pressed a knife to Red Herring’s throat. “Listen, I don’t think you understand what’s happening here. You have infiltrated the most secure place on the entire planet, and you’re leaving without collecting any information. Do you even know who I am? It’s very interesting.”

“I just don’t think I was the right pick to fight an evil political syndicate. Tell coach to put John Wick in or something, I’m going to Jersey Mike’s.” Red Herring pushed on the door behind him until it opened. He took a step away from the knife, and the Cabinetman froze. He was unable to feel any bloodlust for such a lowkey chill dude. Without another word, Red Herring turned and strolled out of the White House courtyard. Dozens of drone cameras reported to dozens of reporters that someone unaffiliated with the president has just walked out of the White House. All of them were thinking the same thing: “Do we have a hero?”

However, Red Herring didn’t seem to think a hero was even needed. As he walked down the streets of DC he looked around. Everything seemed pretty much alright to him. It would take something pretty drastic to get him interested in being the force of god that he seemed poised to be. 

It took 26 hours of walking aimlessly through DC before Red Herring finally came across a Jersey Mike’s. He breathed a sigh of relief as he walked through the door and felt the AC hit his face; a relief from the hot September’s air. He heard the chatter of the handful of Jersey Mike’s patrons as he approached the counter, however they suddenly died off. A loud silence filled the room. The sandwich artist turned from the toaster to see what was the matter. His eyes met Red Herring’s sunken sockets. He slowly walked to the counter and slammed his palms down, shaking the change in the cash register. He studied Red Herring’s face closely. He grinned, and loudly proclaimed: “The Red Savior is here! Hero to America, hero to all!”

“HUZZAH!” The merry men of Jersey Mikes shouted, giving way to rapturous merriment and cheer.

“So what does the legend himself want on this fine day?” said the burly, bearded sandwich man, in a half-shout.

“Uh, just like a 9, I guess.” Red Herring said, looking over his shoulders and hiding from the fans as a man came up to shake his hand. The sandwich artist worked quickly as a small crowd formed around Red Herring, all talking to him at once. He didn’t turn from the counter, and ignored the crowd as he focused on his sandwich being made. Roast beef. Turkey. Swiss. He caught part of something someone was trying to tell him on his right. “You’re all over the internet dude, people are saying you’re gonna be voted hottest man of the year!”

After what felt like an eternity, the jolly sultan of sandwich finished and wrapped Red Herring’s #9 Club Supreme. Red Herring took his sandwich and attempted to give the man his money (exact change for the order, which happened to be in one of his robe pockets), but the man pushed the money aside and proclaimed “America’s savior and unequivocally sexiest guy will not be paying at this, or any other Jersey Mike’s location!”

“Are you all fucking stupid or something?” Red Herring said. He clambered up onto the counter and addressed the crowd as they finally quieted down. He unwrapped his sandwich. “Listen!” He took a bite of his sandwich. “I don’t know what the hell is going on. Clearly you all want…” he took a bite of his sandwich. “...some sort of hero. Like a symbol to believe in or something? Well, I don’t know. If you don’t like the government, organize or something! Riot, I don’t fucking care. I’m…” he took a bite of his sandwich. “... not exactly the hero you want, guys. I literally slipped on a red herring when I woke up! I’m called Red Herring!”

“A fitting name for a hero!” Shouted the idiotic sandwich bastard.

“No it’s fucking not! And newsflash, assholes! I don’t even remember anything!” He took a bite of his sandwich. “I don’t know what’s happening, I'd need a hell of a good reason to actually get involved in whatever this is.”

“But you infiltrated the White House! Did you find out who any of the Cabinetmen are?”

“No! I woke up there! I didn’t do shit! I have no reason to do shit! What don’t you all get!? I’M NO HERO!”
Suddenly, a man with a left nostril that was bigger than the right won who was wearing a shirt that just said the word “basketball” on it burst through the door. “TURN ON THE TV! IT DOESN’T MATTER WHAT CHANNEL!”

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

The president emerged from his wooden box in the oval office just as the morning dew was starting to evaporate. His closest aide, [REDACTED] was already sitting across from the presidential throne at the large, ornate wooden desk. The president threw off the American flag he was shrouded in. He took one slow, creeping step out of the box. His bald head glistened in the candlelight that filled the office. He opened his mouth, heavily breathing. The breathing turned into a hiss as he stretched his limbs. His fingers extended as he turned his face towards the ceiling and basked in the dimness. He pulled out his throne, sat down, then unceremoniously scooted forward. Nobody can scoot forward gracefully.

“Report.” He grunted in a deep and commanding voice.

“President Orlock, sir.” the Cabinetman addressed him. “The agent we expected He would send was found yesterday morning. I personally dealt with the situation with even more ease than anticipated.”

Nosferatu didn’t flinch, hesitate, or otherwise react before demanding “And?”

“Well, sir.” The Cabinetman cleared his throat. “The first plane has hit the towers.”

“Good.” smiled Nosferatu. “Good.”

Chapter Text

“OH MY GOD THEY HIT THE FIRST TOWER!!!!!” The Jersey Mike’s erupted in panic. “It seems really pessimistic saying that it hit the first tower,” quipped Red Herring. The man in the basketball shirt asked: “Don’t you remember what happened on 9/11? We’ve seen this before. It’s happening all over again”.
“What.”
“Oh my god were you just born.”
“Maybe.”

“Whatever, you’ve got to do something!”
“WHAT. DO. YOU. MEAN. WHAT COULD YOU POSSIBLY WANT ME TO DO. THAT’S A PLANE. I’M NO HERO,” shouted Red Herring. Suddenly, a chant began in the Jersey Mike’s: “Be a hero! Be a hero! BE A HERO! BE A HERO!”. “Listen, whether you like it or not, you’re America’s only hope,” said the man in the stupid fucking basketball shirt. “The Triplet Towers have been hit, the ‘government’ is collapsing, and-”.

All of a sudden, a United States armored vehicle—now bearing a Mr. Beast logo as part of a sponsorship to try and get rid of national debt—rolled up to the front of the Jersey Mike’s. “Oh shit, it’s the feds!” said the sandwich artist. A small panic was re-induced in the building. The artist ushered Red Herring and Basketshirts into the public restroom.
“Take two lefts and a right! It’s in the third stall. We’re counting on you”. He then shut the door and locked it.
“…This is too much.”

“I mean what do you expect? You’re a very high value target right now. I’m surprised they even let you leave the Grey House.”
“Whatever. I’m gonna piss.”
“Alright.”
…
Outside of the bathroom, the cloaked feds emerged from their vehicle and entered the Jersey Mike’s—they looked unarmed, but who knows. As they entered, the sandwich artist quickly positioned themselves in front of the door to the bathroom very conspicuously-inconspicuous. The feds went up, and the one with the slightly eviler-looking robes stepped forward and said in a heavy voice:

“Show us the ‘Red Savior’.”

The artist said that he was nowhere to be found, still obviously body-blocking the door.

“We know he’s in the bathroom. We saw you hiding him through the window. Let us in.”
The artist, with his quick thinking said “Sorry, the restrooms are for paying customers only.”

The rest of the citizens at the Jersey Mike’s, realizing his plan, lined up at the registers before the feds could and began ordering. This resulted in a defeated sigh from the cloaked figures, followed by them lining up for their order. In the midst of the chaos of the 5/01 attacks, the people of Jersey Mike’s united for one purpose. It’s all up to the Red Savior now.
…

“Okay, I’m done.”

“Hey, now that I think about it, how do you piss?”

“…Wait, yeah. What was I doing in there?”

“Also, have you noticed that this bathroom is fucking huge? It’s also just stalls. No sinks or urinals or anything.”

“Weird.”

Red Herring and the fatass basketball fan went down the seemingly endless corridors of stalls until they found the stall that they were looking for. They opened it to reveal a stall with no toilet, but rather a hole with a ladder leading down into darkness. Seeing no other options, they descended just as the feds burst into the restrooms with Portabella Chicken Cheese Steaks and a large drink in hand.

Reaching the bottom of the pit, they reach what seems to be a large tunnel with tracks in it. Entering the tunnel, they feel an impending sense of doom. A train whizzes by, narrowly missing the pocket of the tunnel they were in. With nothing else to do, they began going the way they felt was right.

As they walked down the long tunnel, Basketboy sparks up conversation. “Well hey, looks like we’ve got some time to kill! Seems like a great moment for some character development. How about you tell me a little bit about yourself?”

“I already told you, I know nothing. Stop asking me.”

“Why does it say Red Herring on your name tag?”
“I slipped on what I think was a Red Herring as soon as I had gotten out of my coffin, so that’s what I named myself. I don’t know why I woke up with this on.”
“That’s dumb. That’d be like if my mom named me Umbilical Cord.”
“Very funny.”
…
Red Herring continued. “What’s your name anyway?”
“Everyone calls me Coach. They’ve called me Coach for so long that I don’t remember my actual name.”

“Really?”

“No, it’s Matthew Johnsons.”

“Do you like basketball?”

“It’s all I live for.”
“You play it?”
“Hell no, look at me. I’m fat as fuck. I could probably only get 4 inches off the ground if I tried. I used to though, back when I was in my prime. But that was like in 2nd grade. I used to rule the court, dunking, juking, shooting 6-pointers. I was the goa-”
“Wait wait wait wait. 6-pointers? What?”
“I was lying. How did you know I was lying? I thought you said you didn’t know anything.”
“…Yeah, I thought I did. Huh.”

“Oh dude do you think we need to restore your memories or something?”
“Maybe. Or maybe that was just a shit lie.”
After walking for a little longer, they made it to a set of stairs leading to a train station platform. Almost as if planned for their arrival, a train rolls up. For being in a subway, it’s quite strange, considering the train looks more reminiscent of a steam train. Red Herring looks at the destination on a sign: “TRAIN JM - New Flagstaff, KI: ON TIME”.
“‘KI’? Where’s that?”
“Frankly, I’m not sure. I know us Americans are bad at geography and all but I can’t think of any states that abbreviate to ‘KI’,” Coach added.

“Well, we don’t have much of a choice, do we?”

The two of them boarded the train. It was completely empty, except for one man in a vest bearing a conductor's hat. I think it’s reasonable to assume he was the conductor. He seated the 2 of them in a private cart, and offered them coffee and biscuits. The two of them politely declined, having just eaten. The conductor then pulls up an antique Luger pistol, points it at them, and in a German-but-not-really sounding accent asks the two:

“So, what brings you here?”

Red Herring and Coach are taken aback, but you can’t really tell Red Herring is because he’s a skeleton. Coach responds, “Uh… the guy at Jersey Mike’s sent us down here.”

“Ah. Good.” He puts away his pistol. “So you’re part of the Resistance.”

Red Herring interrupts: “I don’t want to be part of any ‘Resistance’.”

“You gotta” the others say in unison. Red Herring sighs.
“So, where are we going?” Coach asks. “I’ve never heard of a ‘KI’ state”.

The conductor walks around the train and solemnly drags his hand along a plaque on the train’s wall reading ‘1956’. “This railroad was built in secret when Jersey Mike’s was first founded. Nobody knows about its existence but Jersey Mike’s employees. They’re all under a very strict NDA , you could say. You’re on the way to the Jersey Mike’s in New Flagstaff, Key Island.”

“How come I’ve never heard of this state?”

“That’s ‘cause it’s not on any map. Top secret 51st state, annexed 1978. For some reason, nobody questions why Puerto Rico was declared the 52nd state. The government wanted to use Key Island for secret operations, but forgot about it. Somehow, the Jersey Mike’s was also already there when they found it. There’s some infrastructure, mainly abandoned government buildings. I’m not entirely sure, this is the first time I’ve had to bring people there.”

Coach tries to check the news on his phone, but he can’t get a signal. He notices an old radio set sitting in the booth beside them. “Hey, you mind turning on that radio?”. “Of course,” replied the conductor.
*bzzzzzzzt* “-and it’s a cool 63 degrees ou-” *bzzt* “-ide on this lovely night of May 1st and… I’m sorry, what was that? Okay. Hey folks so it seems we have a development on the “terrorist” attacks—yeah right—that have been happening across the U.S. as of late. It seems there’s a fourth plane that is still in the U.S. airspace after the grounding order, and—yeah can we just pull it up on the bi-” *bzzt* “-screen here—it seems it’s headed for…”

“Oh. It’s heading for the Hexagon. You know I never really understood why they called it a hexagon. Sure they ‘tech-” *bzzt* “-cally’ added a 6th side, but they didn’t move any of the other side’s for it. It’s just sticking out of a corner. It kind of looks like a lollipop. Oh, yeah right. Yeah they hit the Hexagon. Like a couple seconds ago. Anyways, this is your radio host Murphy Guillermo signing off for the evening. Goodnight, Ameri-”

*bzzzzzzzt*
The conductor turned off the radio.

Chapter Text

On board the steam train, the group starts panicking. One plane may be a freak accident, two might be particularly unlucky, but three is WAY too many planes.

The conductor lowers his head in silence. Pondering whether or not he should explain to the red stranger what he was about to say, he slowly mutters, “That wasn’t the third one.”

“Third what, attack? I just wanted a fucking sandwich and I’m being roped into this crusade of bandits and deceivers. You better have a goddamned good explanation for this whole thing, Coach.” retorted Red Herring.

“W- Well you picked the wrong sandwich shop at the wrong time, red savior. Out of all the shitty foods to pick out, you went for Jersey Mike’s in D.C. I thought this was covered in the weekly Conspiracies magazine- sandwich shops are the best fronts for resistances and cults!”

“Aye, Johnsons has a point. The Yellow Deli’s been making a killing for a while.” added the conductor. He quietly ignores being accused as a bandit and a deceiver, for now. Continuing, he elaborates, “This wasn’t the third plane to crash into a famous building in the past month.”

“So what, do you mean to say there’s an organization of plane maniacs out there, making the world shitty for everyone above the first floor of a building?” Red Herring snarks.

“Yeah, actually.”

“The name’s not ‘the conductor’, by the way. My name is Conduct Orc. Surprised you didn’t notice my appearance or anything. You can call me Kenny though.” Sure enough, he wore a belt buckle the side of Utah, which is only a little big. His star shaped eyebrows also seemed a bit peculiar to Red Herring when they first met, but he was mulling over how to best insult his captors instead of paying it any mind.

Sidenote, he was an orc.

“We aren’t glossing over the organization of plane maniacs, what? ”

“I figure you’d know, it was all over the president’s previous State of the Union address.” Kenny shoves a tablet in Red Herring’s face, and there was infamous President Orlock.

Nosferatu gives the House of Representatives and the Senate a cold glare. A group of cloaked figures were behind the president, with elaborate masks. Each one had an ornate design, unique to the person wearing them, but only went by █████████. Any time one utters a name, they get a massive headache and forget what they said, with a loud, shrill noise, taking its place.

President Orlock starts to speak. “Under my jurisdiction, this country has seen no wars. It has seen no sorrow. I’ve been elected by the American people to do the job of many, occupied by only-” He pauses, to hold up one, skeletal finger. “...one.”

“Who the fuck is this guy,” asked Red Herring, “Fucking dehydrated sandpaper.”

“Good, you noticed he’s in black and white.” Kenny responds.

Before the conductor can get another word in, Nosferatu on the tablet continues, “You may have questions about my origin, about where I may reside. After all, I need to be born in America to have been elected in the first place. Certain... political opponents, have asked for my birth certificate. For proof of where I reside. Well, it is an unconstitutional, and unacceptable act, to intrude on the privacy of an American citizen. These political rivals, no, extremists, are only concerned because I am right. I am doing the world a good with my madness. I didn’t spend this long fixing the problems of the people, toiling away on my seventeenth term in these United States of America, for it to go... unappreciated.”

Kenny continues, “Odd how the video itself isn’t, nor is anyone in the crowd.” Sure enough, it was only enveloped around the president, a fragment of the past revolving around the man. A tall, slender figure, with an elaborate cloak wrapped around him. He could be wearing purple for all we knew.

he was wearing purple i know it

FUCKING DAMN IT I thought you would’ve gotten bored after that anime shit. Did you learn anything about the work I do?

i thought there was a whole arc about resolving that conflict

No I had amnesia recently actually, let’s get back to the plot.

“We believe he has some sort of functioning time travel technology, because...”, Kenny pauses, waiting for the video to catch up with his point.

“...and another thing, these sandwich shops didn’t give me my fucking lettuce the first time, so I had to use this time travelling stopwatch to tell them ‘Hey, you forgot my fucking lettuce, you shitty minimum wage FOOL.’ They insisted they put it on there, but I stuffed their face into my sandwich, waterboarded them in the rock-hard dough they call bread, the ice cold tomato bath, the gigantic turkey that soaked too long in the sun, and told him, adamantly, that there was no fucking lettuce in this sandwich to be found. What am I paying Subway for, these damn-”

“And you’re telling me NOBODY’S noticed he casually brought up time travel?” Red Herring asks.

Coach, intimately aware of the topic, explains “Oh, he’s had beef with sandwiches ever since his mom passed away from a sandwich overdose, it always distracts people. He has several autobiographies about it.” He pulls out several comically large books he had stuffed in his pocket. “I was gonna play ping-pong with these later, horrible reading.”

“Books are shitty ping-pong balls, I’ve checked. You’re using these for something else.” Red Herring observes. Coach clams up, not wanting to talk about the lipstick marks on the cover of Nosferatu’s War Against Subway, Volume II .

Kenny clears the air, “Aaanyway, he confesses to using time travel right then and there! It explains all the other oddities of this past month as well. Plane wreckages on the side of the Second Eiffel Tower, the Second Stonehenge, the Fr-”

shh spoilers

Why are you interrupting Kenny like that?

spoilers?

Oh yeah, for once that one’s my bad. We’ll get back to you on that.

“The planes were inspected by our operatives, and they all had broken clocks found onboard by random passengers’ luggage, reading completely different years than the one we’re in. These planes are always aimed at buildings that come in pairs, we don’t fully know why.”

Absorbed in the conversation, Red Herring forgets the other resistance members in the train with him. All of them, smelling of deli meats, are focused on the words Kenny is saying, lingering on every word, watching him carefully and thoughtfully for each breath. The train is now on a bridge overlooking Francis Scott Key bridge, the sky still definitely blue like it was earlier. On a nice day like this, it’s easy to forget the tragedy of earlier.

“The strangest thing is, the news never seemed to cover the other planes, and this new pattern of crashes doesn’t fit the profile we have so far. Both Twin Towers fell, and now a third on the Hexagon. There’s not a second Hexagon, and usually one of the twins is left behind. Fortunately, once we regroup at-”

“Sir!” a random member shouts. “Duck!”

On the left of the train, a plane materializes into view, aimed directly at them.

Chapter Text

There’s an old saying that goes something along the lines of “One out of every dozen is bad.” It was coined by chicken farmers who were bad at their jobs, and wanted to temper the public’s expectations. Or it was an excuse by bakers who were especially generous, but wanted to seem humble. Or it was something that a priest would tell their congregation to warn them of hidden foes among their closest allies, reminiscent of Jesus’ Twelve Apostles. Or it was something Santa Claus said once. The origin of the phrase is a bit fuzzy, and if you go to The Second Library of Congress, you could find at least a dozen books that will all tell you a different story on who said it first and why, so maybe one out of every dozen is just unique.

Regardless, the meaning and wording changed over time, and while at one time the most common interpretation was to be cautious of danger lurking within an abundance, it eventually was simplified to “Every twelfth thing is bad,” shifting the unlucky number down by one and causing many to get very superstitious whenever anything was the “twelfth” of a set, fearing that the worst would happen to them.

However, it’s always been a little unclear who the misfortune would fall upon. If a farmer gave you 12 eggs, would the farmer be punished for selling that many eggs, or would you be punished for buying them? If you bought 11 eggs and then bought 1 egg individually, would the curse apply then? What if you bought 2 packs of 12 eggs? Would it no longer apply, or would you now just have 2 bad eggs? This was a big debate among philosophers that eventually led to the topic getting banned altogether by The International Foundation For Philosophy. Is it a coincidence that it was the twelfth topic they had ever banned?

Probably, but even today many people strictly abide by this rule, or at least their own interpretation of it. You might be wondering to yourself, “What does this have to do with the story I was just reading? Didn’t a fucking airplane fly into the train? Is Red Herring okay? Why are you wasting my time talking about eggs? Twelve is my favorite number, do you hate me specifically?” Those are all very good questions, and they’ll all be answered soon. Probably. Anyways, let’s check on Nosferatu. Pretty sure he’s why you started reading, right?

—-

A dim chandelier lit enough of the cabinet room for the oval table and its occupants to be just barely visible. The walls adorned with historical portraits were too dark to see, and the windows once overlooking the rose garden were boarded up, though it’s not as if there was anything left to gawk at. President Orlock had called his Cabinetmen to the room for an important meeting. When they arrived, however, he was simply sitting on his throne. It was difficult to tell if he was deep in thought or just asleep. They all quietly took their seats and waited for their leader to elaborate.Eventually, one Cabinetman spoke up.

“President Orlock, if this is about The Red Savior, is he really a cause for concern? It seems he has no interest in being a hero.” President Orlock took a deep breath and finally opened his eyes. “While it’s true that he doesn’t appear to care for the revolution…” President Orlock sighed, tossing a newspaper to the Cabinetman. The cover story said, in big bold text:

RED SAVIOR? FIGURE SPOTTED EXITING THE GREY HOUSE

“The American people tire of my rule, and they see him as a messiah. I see him as an example.”

The Cabinetmen whispered amongst themselves. “What do you intend to do, sir?” one asked. “Shall we send more feds after them?” President Orlock shook his head, “Their Jersey Mikes have tricks, traps, and tunnels that will allow them to avoid the agents with ease.” He dusted off the table to reveal a map of US infrastructure, notably missing Key Island. “We’ve narrowed down their exit location to a bridge off the coast of Delaware.”

A Cabinetman tilted his head, puzzled. “Where are they going?” “Guam or something, probably.” Another Cabinetman responded. “Ah” “Yes, of course” “My thoughts exactly” “An astute observation” All the Cabinetmen nodded and murmured in agreement, none of them able to recall which direction Guam was and just assuming that the first guess was correct.

“A likely guess, but their destination is unimportant, as they will never reach it in the first place.” President Orlock fiddled with his stopwatch, “We will send an airplane towards their bridge, sabotaging their route.” “And killing them, yes?” a Cabinetman said eagerly. Orlock grinned. “Not quite. This will be the 9th plane I will have sent. I intend to send two more planes after that before I will kill The Red Savior. Do you know why that is?” After less than a second of consideration, the room went dead silent, all of the Cabinetmen suddenly freezing in place.

They all understood what The President was planning, but just the thought struck fear into their cold hearts. President Orlock’s grin grew wider and wider, until a hoarse laughter emerged from him. The Cabinetmen stared at Count Orlock as he wheezed and cackled, and just for a moment, they questioned their allegiance to the tyrant. Just as quickly, though, they dismissed the dangerous thought, and along with it any reservations that they had already rejected when they first agreed to don their masks and serve Nosferatu decades ago. Gradually, each one joined in on the laughter.

They all accepted the plan. The Red Savior would soon die, and the misfortune to fall upon him would kill the Resistance and The American Dream along with it, forever.

Chapter Text

Red Herring, Coach, and Kenny were staring out the train, dumbfounded that an entire passenger plane was coming right at them. 

“This is bullshit. All of it! I’m just a normal dude! I ain’t surviving this.” Coach was in a flailing panic as the situation seemed more and more dire. Red Herring sat down on one of the seats, accepting his fate. Kenny the Orc Conductor meanwhile?

“Attention all passengers. We got a code Swiss Cheese. Again. For the fifth time this week. This time we have a, uhhh… Boeing 747-8. Overkill. Anyways, prepare to get motion sick.”

After that, everything was blue and nothing was clear about what was happening. Literally, nobody could see anything for 5 minutes until the Boeing 747-8 left. During its passing everyone had a feeling of their insides getting mixed, mashed, tangled, rearranged then torn apart. Everything inside the plane was a complete blur, but Red Herring could make out that there was absolutely nobody on this plane. Not a single person was found. Not even a driver from the split second they saw of the pilot seat. After the plane was gone, everything turned back to normal, and all the pain had stopped. 

Red Herring, understandably, threw up his entire sandwich, which also seems to have been undigested in pristine condition.

“What the fuck. All of this. What the fuck?”

“Oh-ho man…” Coach looked sickly green, just barely managing to keep everything in. “Dude, that just sucked…”

Kenny sighs and sits on a seat too, just to take a breather. “Sometimes I wonder if there are better ways. But whatever. Anyways, welcome to the official headquarters of Jersey Mikes, and the secret base of the resistance.”

New Flagstaff, Key Island, wasn't as prestigious as the mind's eye would have had it. It had a sort of dystopian vibe to it. Many of the buildings seemed rundown, and grunge ran up the exterior of some buildings. Many of the power lines seemed to have crashed into the buildings years ago. A run-down secret State the government had all but forgotten about. The train came to a screeching halt on the now rusting rails that had built up for several years.

“What a fucking dump. You call this headquarters?” Red Herring sighed and jumped off the train, and into the cracked concrete of the rundown station.

“You haven't seen the last of it yet.” Kenny smiled as he jumped off too, the weight of his landing made a little crunch sound as the pebble underneath his boots dug into the concrete ground. He walked towards the ticket booth and put his hand behind it, fiddling with something. 

Coach had just hopped off the train, just in time to see the spectacle. The wall of the train station in front of them slowly opened. A bright blue glow filled the entire station, and Coach's jaw had dropped through pure amazement. “This is more than a regular old dude like me can handle bro. My mind is being blown.”

It took a solid minute for the doors to open up before the orcish conductor beckoned them inside. “Welcome to platform 42.42. The hidden bunker beyond the first glance.” The hidden mechanical door revealed a huge elevator, lit up with the blue lights that hung overhead. There were a few to head out of the elevator, all with their Jersey Mike’s uniforms, and hopped onto the train.

“Well, this is where I leave you gentlemen. Just hop onto the elevator, and tell them the Jersey Mike’s from DC sent you here.” Kenny walked away and back onto the train. “I’m sure we’ll see each other soon! This is my only after all.” Kenny disappeared into the train, which silently rolled away, back where they came from.

Coach watched silently on and gave a wave goodbye as it left the station and into the distance, while Red Herring just sighed. “I’m really going to have to go through this, aren’t I?”

Coach shrugged and walked into the elevator. “Hey, government conspiracy, the second coming of 9/11, time travel, going the most miserable way to go through a plane… I’d say this has gotta be the most fun adventure anyone will ever go on!”

Red Herring reluctantly got onto the elevator too. When he got on, the mechanical door behind him closed up, and the elevator went down. Everything was industrial, with how the floor was fully iron-plated, steel beams crossed each other with each supposed floor into the depths they went. Then everything stopped, with a dampened thud as they had reached the bottom. The elevator door in front of them opened up to a huge room, filled with, presumably, resistance members. With large screens in the back with the news about all the plane attacks. Many of the resistance members were sitting on computers, bustling about hacking into the systems of the planes just to stop the plane crashes, while many others were gearing up with weapons. The entire area also reeked of fresh sandwiches.

Coach’s jaw dropped from the sheer magnificence of the hall. “We’re in so deep now! This is crazy!”

Red Herring shrugged and took a few steps in before a man with a peculiar revolver walked up to them from the crowd. “And what do we have here?” He had a sort of western twang to his voice, and his demeanor overall lax. He dressed like he was straight out of a western movie, though an actor he was not. He wore black boots, a leather jacket with a white undershirt, and a black 10 gallon hat. “Our red hero, an-”

Red Herring sighed once more to the sound of being called a hero again, it was getting relatively tiring. “Okay seriously now, I get that the Grey house is hard to get into, but why is it so damn special? They literally let me walk out. That’s where I literally woke up too…”

“Look, it’s long and complicated and I won’t get into it now, I’ll explain it later during the meeting that y’all need to have because it’s so damn important the Counsel needs to hear it. Anyways, who are you son?” He motions over to Coach, who gave his introduction. “Ah, Coach, got it. So, welcome to the Jersey Mike’s HeadQuarters. If you could just follow me to the Round Room…”

The definitely western man motioned to follow him, and Coach immediately did, but Red Herring took a minute to consider before following, interested that he may get an explanation finally.

“So what’s your name?” Coach asked the man who had welcomed them.

“My name is Jeff Jeffson XXX, Man With the Magazine Fed Revolver.” Red Herring gave a strange look at that last bit which prompted, “Yes, yes, it’s a whole thing… A Landstad 1900.” He takes out the revolver and takes out the magazine to show that, yes, it is real. “Helluva a find, and I don’t intend to give it away.”

“Alright,” Red Herring responded. “I wasn’t going to take it anyw-”

Loud cheering started up as someone has managed to hack into the aeronautical network to stop all the plane crashes happening, many of the tech whizzes throwing up confetti that they have been saving up in their desks for 2 years.

“Well that’s awesome. They prevented more crashes then?” Red herring question.

“Ayup, we started working on it since the first plane 12 hours ago. Glad to see our tech team can still hack government facilities that aren't directly linked to the Grey House.”

“Wait, so you mean to tell me that you just can’t hack into the Grey House?”

“We would if we could. Anyways, let's get into that meeting room.” Jeff started to rush them into the meeting room before there were any more distractions.

____________________________________________________________________________

“What the fuck do you mean ‘We lost controll of every single’ fucking ‘plane connected to the system’??? We literally control that don’t we?” Nosferatu was definitely pissed at this guy who stood before him, telling the bad news that they are no longer in control of the planes.

“I m-mean it exactly as I-I-I said it, we can’t-”

“Don’t tell me we can’t! Find a way that we can now, or I’ll throw you across this damn room!”

“Y-Yes sir.” The man left, trembling. He didn’t want to say that they tried every method, in fear that he would die. So he left the room, opting to have someone else come in and tell the big boss man.

Chapter Text

Nosferatu sighed and sank into his chair. His perfect plan, all ruined. He could go back, stop the attack from even happening, but that would cause even more problems. He had no plan, no ideas, and certainly no Subway to eat. The Red Savior, as the people called him. To Nosferatu, he was the thorn in his side. He slowly stood up and walked through the halls of the Grey House alone.

“All of these former leaders… adversaries came to them. And yet, they all fell, one by one. Some with grace, some with dishonor. And yet, this… ragtag rebellion thinks they can stop this?” As he kept walking, he slowly scratched the walls. “Red Herring, he calls himself. A pathetic name for a pathetic person. But no matter, he will be dealt with.” Blood now coats the walls; his blood.

“P-president, sir!”

“What now?” He turns around, finding an unfamiliar woman standing before him. “Can’t you see I’m thinking?” He sighed before muttering, “Speak before I get rid of you…”

“W-w-we’ve found the location of the resistance! I-It’s Key Island!” Nosferatu pauses at this. Key Island?

“Key Island is gone. It was destroyed many years ago. I need proof.”

“W-we’ve had a spy infiltrate the group, a-and they’ve confirmed t-they’re in Key Island! N-New Flagstaff, Key Island s-specifically!” Nosferatu lets out a small scoff. Then a small laugh. Then a bellowing laugh, causing him to cough.

“I’m not even sure I asked for a spy to be sent, but very good. New Flagstaff, hmm? Alright then. Now, what shall we do? Perhaps… no, another plane would be redundant. What do you think?” he says while pointing a bloody finger at the woman.

“Why n-not send s-some soldiers to attack t-the Red Savior a-and-”

“Do not call him that!” Nosferatu yelled at her. “He is not some savior, just some has-been thinking that he’s hot shit!”

“S-sorry, sir!” the woman cowers, putting a hand between her and Nosferatu shakily. “M-maybe b-blow up or b-b-burn t-their hideout, f-flush them out, t-then kill them from t-there!”

Nosferatu pauses, thinking before saying, “A better idea than any cabinetman could think of. Good job.” He ponders the idea for a moment before saying, “A little tweaking of that idea, and I think that it’ll work. You may go.”

“T-t-thank you, s-sir!” The woman runs off, unsure of the results of what is to happen.

Nosferatu, however, knew perfectly how to draw that false savior out. Yes, that was a good name. The False Savior. Someone who thought their role would be to guide the world to salvation, only for them to be the reason why they all die. The resistance would burn, simply for a show of power. More than likely, that pest would somehow live, but cutting off resources would be perfect. It would be a bloody slaughter, and he could see it all. The bullets flying, the fire raging higher and higher. Bodies piling higher and higher, with everyone alive either running or cowering in fear. It would be perfect. It was perfect. It had to be perfect.

“To cease the ticking tower, spend an eternity at the top,” he muttered under his breath. What it meant, he didn’t fully know, but he knew that eternity would end soon, and the ticking tower would crumble.

He slowly walked to his office, seeing the blood stains he left on the walls, and he simply smiled. The clocks ticked, and he knew what would happen. Once he reaches his office, he grabs a key and unlocks a side compartment, the only item held inside being a blue pendrive. “Time for a little speech. Let’s begin Project Azul.” 

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

He didn’t know if what he was doing was right, but there was no way around. He was the only one who was presented with this opportunity and wasn’t going to miss out on the chance to be set for life. He had already given the information acquired to the right people, so there was only one thing left that could be done. He had to get out before everything became ash. He needed a good reason to get out sooner rather than later. He-

“Space to He? You there, man?” He snapped out of his thoughts, finding Luigi standing before him.

“Sorry, Luigi. I was just thinking about everything. I mean, the Red Savior is back, we’ve found a way to stop a lot of the attacks the Grey House does, so much has happened so fast.”

“Can agree with you there. But hey, the Red Savior marks the beginning of the end. He also brought some friends with him after all, so more additions to the force is nice. Anyways, some of the guys and I are going to get some food, want to come?” A reason to get out? He had to take it.

“Yeah, sure, Just give me 5, and I’ll be good,” He says while grabbing his backpack, half things for survival, half classified documents of the resistance. 

“Alright. I’ll be waiting at the entrance. Don’t take your time.” Luigi walks out of the room and He grabs a bottle of water, drinking slowly from it.

“Luigi’s a good guy… sad to see his trust betrayed. Whatever.” He walks out, saying hello to a few people before grabbing his pendrive with a lot more info. He just has to get this to the courier, and he’ll be fine. It means He can get enough money to live a normal and peaceful life without any threats. He’ll be ok.

“Just a little more work and it’ll all be over. It’ll all be over…” He slowly walks forward, trying and failing to calm his frazzled mind. He was so happy that he’d live a life of luxury all paid for by the government. After all of his work, He-

“He, you’re walking into a wall. You are spaced out, huh?” He snaps out of it, seeing a bunch of his friends just watching him.

“O-oh, sorry. Yeah, just been thinking about everything still. Let’s go, yeah.” It was only a matter of time. But then, the TV turned on.

“Hello, people of America. This is your president speaking.”

“Oh god fucking damn it.”

‘It’s been a while since I’ve talked with you. So let’s talk.”

Chapter Text

“It has come to my attention that a concerning amount of people in this great nation have been harboring a certain level of resentment towards me. For what reason, it is beyond me.”

“However, if you would allow me to speak my peace, I have come here to tell you that I am not your enemy. For there are many conspirators who are planning on, for lack of a better word, destroying America and everything we stand for. They plan on destroying your livelihoods, your futures, everything you hold dear.”

A graphic shows up on screen displaying “ THE RESISTANCE ” in bold letters, oddly enough in the Pacifico font, losing all impactfulness it would have had.

“These… these RATS have been wrecking the country right under your noses all this time, obliterating the economy, ruining our neighbourhoods, bankrupting Ben & Jerry’s! It’s- it’s SICKENING!”

The president screamed that last part. Everyone, and I mean everyone watching was taken quite a bit aback.

…

“So I come to you with an ultimatum. Bring me their bodies. I care not for their lives, I only wish to see their wretched souls begone from this pure land. Do that… and I’ll undo this.”

…

“The hell’s he gonna do? Ram another plan- * RUMBLE*

The floor shakes, an earthquake? No, this is an earthquake like no other. The earth roars like hell has been opened, an unfathomably loud metallic screech fills the air, not only in the Resistance headquarters, but everywhere. Because it was everywhere. Except Washington, because of fucking course the rat bastards over there would be exempt. 

If one would have taken a view of the globe at this moment, they would witness something man was not meant to see. In a slow, somehow painful motion, Mexico and South America were RIPPED OFF OF AMERICA, like GOD HIMSELF SAID “Hey you know Pangea? Let’s run that back”. And if that wasn’t enough, the Latin American countries then CRASHED into Antarctica ( thanks Argentina ) and BROKE APART. ALL OF THEM.

2 Hours later, after the dust had settled, the tremors had stopped, and the volcanoes that were inevitably going to erupt due to the tectonic shifts were plugged with big wine corks, the broadcast resumed.

“You all have 48 hours to fulfill my demands as your God-King-President. If you don’t, it’s Canada’s ass next.”

And with that, the broadcast ended.

Nosferatu walked back to his chambers. It was done, no time to look back on it, he had a mission to complete, and if the revolution was to get in his way, then what the hell, one less continent is fine by him. Floods, earthquakes, tsunamis, whatever, it all wouldn’t affect him. Nothing ever did. Ever .

The ancient bureaucrats spoke of how heavy the crown weighs on the king’s head, but none could understand his weight, for he bore more than a crown, he wore the fate of eternity’s destruction on his soul, perched atop the crumbling ticking tower. Maybe he didn’t understand just what it truly meant yet, but he would, and maybe, just maybe, it would all be gone. All of it. Forever .

Why had he started this? This had to have had a purpose, he knew it. No man would be driven to do what he has done in the name of nothing. No, he had a purpose, a glorious, righteous purpose that completely justifies and absolves him of everything he has done to get here.

He entered his chambers. A dark, solemn room, filled with books either neatly organized in their bookcases or recklessly strewn about on the floor. A decomposing coffin in the corner as his resting place, with all the padding inside it having rotted away long ago. And in the center of the room, above the fireplace, the painting.

Right. The reason. His purpose .

His sandwich…

It all came back to him. Lately, his memory had been failing him, dates for his speeches, names of his council, like sand in the wind. And yet, this memory stood still in the sandy maelstrom of his tormented mind.

His Sandwich.

It was the best thing he ever had, it had meaning, in a time when he thought the world had lost it all, it brought back a childish grin on his face as he ate. It was simple, insignificant in the grand passage of time. But oddly enough, he didn’t care, he was content.

His Sandwich.  

His wife, his daughter, all gone. He had to leave, he couldn’t bear to live with this, to exist in a world where a century might as well be a grain of sand, because why? Once you learn of the world’s true nature, it’s like you stop living in the same reality as everyone else. So he sought immortality. He wanted to embrace eternity, to escape the cruel hands of fate.

Oh, but how he just played right into its hands. Left to wander the Earth, to see kingdoms rise and fall, thousands of lives coming into being,  just as a thousand more are extinguished, and to eventually find himself in front of a building. A building that said “Subway”.

His  Sandwich.

Ten Dollars. Oregano and Parmesan. Six Inches. Bacon. Ham. Pepperoni. American Cheese. Pepperjack. Lettuce. Olives. Pepper & Tomato Sauce. Chili Flakes. Cookie.

HIS. SANDWICH.

He walked in the rain to the Subway. It was closed. There was a man talking into his phone.

He walked in the morning to the Subway. There were men in high-vis jackets. They had hammers.

He walked in the snow to the Subway. It didn’t say Subway anymore.

He walked in the snow away from the Jersey Mike’s. It was mid as fuck.

Nosferatu came back to his senses. His quarters were destroyed. His wrath spared nothing, all but the painting in pieces.

That was his conviction, his purpose. He will destroy everything, he will cease eternity, he will crumble the tower on which reality is perched on.

He will find fate, and he will kill her. For she took the last thing that was sacred to him in existence.

His sandwich.

Chapter Text

A man sits amidst the wreckage, listening to Tchaikovsky's Symphony No. 6. The aftermath of the earthquake is visible through his shattered windows and the press, offering an external view of the devastation. Books and fragments of Vinyl records lie scattered across the floor. The man at the desk remains unscathed.

The man’s assistant walks into the room, pushing aside a few fallen books as he opens the door. “Should we go help the resis-” 

The former president interrupts him “Let the resistance die, my concerns are they will take my glory, all I need at the moment is information, that bastard stole my 2nd term from me, I will find his weakness and kill him myself.”

Crook continues on his rant “After I kill Nosferatu the people will forget all about my first presidency, we’ll be hailed as heroes” 

The man interjects “The resistance needs your information surrounding the” 

Crook once again interrupts him saying “The biological weapon testing? BeHalde, you know I would rather die than let those ruffians steal all of my glory, I have a reputation that needs repair, Nosferatu hasn’t discovered us yet and I would like to keep it that way for as long as possible. Now please leave, I am quite busy”.

BeHalde takes the documents and his belongings BeHalde, with a heavy weight on his shoulders, leaves the building dejected and starts to drive across the broken roads, embarking on his self-made mission.

Near his destination with only 2 more hours to drive BeHalde stops at a gas station refueling his car. He decided he would like a snack to eat so he entered the station looking for chips. As he’s purchasing the chips, he asks the cashier “What do you think the Red Herring is doing right now?” 

She responds “I think he’s just eating food at Jersey Mikes, he appears to do that often. Why do you ask”

“Well I just have a bit of important information I need to deliver anyways, how’s business been” “It’s been rough, the dollar has been inconsistent in value, I’m thinking of changing the accepted currency to bitcoin” 

He says “Good luck with that.” as he leaves the gas station

4 hours after BeHalde’s departure, Crook finally discovered the documents were missing. Dread washed over Crook as he made the realization his first employee betrayed him, attempting to deny his goals. Crook, in a fit of rage, decides there is only one way to stop BeHalde from delivering the stolen documents to the resistance. 

He reached for his phone and dialed a number known only to 11 other people.

The phone rung for less than a second as he said,“I have a job for you”

The Hitman named Barracuda responds with a voice void of life “Details”

“BeHalde is the target, the documents he has is to be burned, It needs to be done in under 2 hours”

“36 BTC, Half must be paid in advance” 

“Agreed” winced Crook knowing there was no faster alternative costing him a large chunk of his fortune.

In under an hour after the hit was placed, Barracuda had not only discovered the exact location of BeHalde, he set up a location 5 minutes ahead on his route. Barracuda did a test shot to adjust his aim and waited for his prey.

BeHalde was unaware of Barracuda's existence. Without warning, a shot rang out, and a sharp pain sliced across BeHalde's face. Realizing the danger, he slammed the gas pedal to the floor, desperate to escape the hitman’s grasp. His car was fast enough that Barracuda struggled to line up another shot. By the time the 2nd shot fired, BeHalde was barely out of range of the rifle.

After driving as fast as possible, BeHalde finally notices the famed hero at the 3rd Jersey Mike’s he’s been to and declares with an urgent tone “Red Herring, I have some important information you need to know” 

Everybody present looks at him suspiciously. After handing the documents to Red Herring, BeHalde warns him “These documents are highly classified, be careful”

Before Red Herring could respond, a gunshot rang through the city as BeHalde fell to the ground.

Chapter Text

“What the fuck?” Said Red Herring as the customers of the Jersey Mikes began running around and panicking. “Oh god, what are these documents?” He thinks out loud, flipping through the pages quickly to get a grasp of what just happened.  His eyes lit up, realizing that these papers held the key to ending Nosferatu’s reign of terror once and for all. He quickly ran back to the tunnels, and started the long journey back to Resistance HQ on Key Island.

…

Meanwhile, as the Red Savoir brought the information back to The Resistance, Nosferatu sat in his destroyed office, ruminating.

One of his minions walked into the room, slowly stepping over the rubble, “S-sir, we have reports that someone was shot delivering classified documents to the Red Menace. It seems he is taking them to Key Island, but we have no clue who delivered the documents, or what they even are”. Nosferatu looked up slowly, before beckoning the minion closer.

“You, you’ve become one of my greatest minions, I trust you much more than all of the others, and I have a secret to tell you”. Nosferatu looked… sad, not angry, but sad, surprising the minion.

“O-of course sir, what do you want to tell me?”

“Well minion, I want to tell you about my origin story. A tale of sadness and woe, that all began because of a single selfish sponge”

… (this is where it merges into a flashback)

Ahh, Bikini Bottom at night, the fish are sleeping, the clams are snoring, and the Krusty Krab is open for its midnight shift. By the way, it’s me, the French Narrator, it has always been me.

“I was the Night Shift Manager at a local fast food joint”, said Nosferatu, “business was slow, but I made a comfortable wage, enough to live in my castle with my servant Slappy. He was the source of most pleasure in my life, entertaining me with his witty humor and delicious meals”

“Things were great, until one day, the daytime fry cook, that insidious sponge, was assigned to my graveyard shift”. Ahh.. SpongeBob, as lighthearted as can be, little does he know his actions will cause endless suffering.

“His chaotic nature almost destroyed the place! But luckily things were fine, for then. But one day, he visited my castle, and everything started to go wrong. My castle was haunted, you see, and that sponge was terrified by everything he saw-“

“I fail to see why this is relevant to The Resistance or the Red Menace sir”, the minion interjected. Nosferatu raised his hand, motioning that there was more to come.

“He, and his idiotic starfish friend, ended up destroying everything, every booby trap I had set up for them ended up reversing onto me, and everything started to collapse. My entire castle was left in rubble, and my beloved servant, my Slappy, was dead. I got so unbelievably angry after this that I ended up going on a revenge rampage through Bikini Bottom, destroying the entire city, and killing everyone that sponge held dear”.

“O-oh god” said the minion, at least that’s no longer the most deadly thing you’ve done now! Nosferatu glared at him, and he quickly apologized.

“Their cries were like music to my ears, I cooked that damn crab, made escargot of that snail, and made game out of that squirrel. The only ones that escaped my wrath were that damned starfish, the sponge, and a cephalopod that I felt too sorry for to kill, as I saw myself in him. I then decided to leave Bikini Bottom for the surface world, coming onto land in a place called ‘Los Angeles”

“That’s all well and good sir, but I still need to ask, what made you seek the office of the Gray House?”

“Well minion, once I got onto land, I met a beautiful woman, one whom I made my wife. We lived happily for 20 years, and I fathered a daughter, whose smile made up for the loss of my Slappy. We moved to Bakersfield, and I found myself a job in global trade! My life was perfect, until once again, it all went wrong”. He began to softly cry at this point, to the shock of his minion, who had never seen him show this much emotion.

“Are you sure you want to tell me sir? I’m fine with what I know right now”.

Nosferatu calmed down, before standing up and facing the window looking outside the Oval Office, “It was bring your wife and daughter to work day, September 11th 2001.  Of course, I didn’t work at the World Trade Center in New York, I worked at the one in Los Angeles… but I could not escape tragedy.  On the way home, we got in a devastating car crash, and my wife and child did not make it. It was then when I left America, unable to deal with being in the same country where my family was taken from me”

“I wandered for ten years, until finding a new reason for being, a hidden recipe for eternal life”.

“E-ETERNAL LIFE??? But with that much power, anyone could become unstoppable!”.

“Yes minion, I became unstoppable, but before I was able to take the next step, the recipe was taken from me.  Taken by Jersey Mikes. It was at that very moment that I swore that I would return to America and become president, using that power to end Jersey Mikes for good. The campaigning was difficult, and I needed to… take care of a few of my enemies, but I made it, I made it to the presidency. Little did I know that Jersey Mikes was more powerful than I thought, that they would become my worst enemies, that their resistance would awaken the ‘Red Savior’ who is foretold to stop me. I must stop him and Jersey Mikes quickly, before they’re able to develop something that can stop me”

The minion watched on in horror, as Nosferatu walked towards him, putting his hand on his shoulder, before whispering into his ear. “You are to lead a force on a secret attack on Key Island, they’ll be distracted by the destruction of South America, it’s the perfect time”.

“Yes sir, I will do what you deem as necessary, what are your plans?”

“Sit down, and I will explain. However, your new role as general requires a new name, something that describes your position to me. Your importance makes you worthy of this name, Slappy II…”

…

Barracuda enters the office of the former president, about to tell him about his success. “Mr. Crook, the target has been successfully eliminated, I’m here for my bitcoin”.

“It should be in your account now”, said Crook, “and what of the documents? Did you manage to retrieve them? They mustn’t have fallen into the palms of the resistance”.

“Uh… about that… I killed BeHalde in a Jersey Mikes… where the Red Savior was, he got away with the documents”.

“What.” Crook lay dumbfounded, how could the assassin he spent so much money on fail such a simple mission? He began to think, and thought of a plan so dastardly that he began to cackle. After regaining his composure, he gestured towards Barracuda, “You, I have another job for you. You must travel to Key Island, kill the Red Savior, and get me back my documents before The Resistance is able to do anything with them. 100 bitcoin for it”.

“Yes sir Mr. Crook, it’ll be my pleasure to take care of that nuisance”.

Mr Crook chuckled, “Then the deal is done, and you don’t need to call me Mr. Crook anymore. Please, call me Milhous”

…

He and Luigi were sitting at resistance HQ, unaware that things were about to happen that they would never be able to expect. “Hey He”, said Luigi, “more refugees from South America just arrived, looks like we’re doing all we can to save as many people as possible”.

“Yes, that’s good, but I’m just worried that with most of our forces tied up in that we’re ignoring what Nosferatu might be planning! If he was just able to destroy South America instantly, who knows what more he’s capable of?” The two of them walked the streets of New Flagstaff, taking a right turn on Pleasant Road and a left on Tracy Place before ending up at an Italian restaurant.  “This is your family’s place, right Luigi?”

“Yeah, come inside, I can get us something for free”.  As the two walked inside, they realized that no one else was there. 

“Luigi, where is everyone?” He said, panicked.  Actually, come to think of it, no one was on the roads at all! What’s going on??

“Oh god, there must be a Resistance meeting happening right now, that’s never a good sign, come on, we need to go”.

“Can I at least get some garlic bread?” Asked He.

“Fine, but only one serving, my parents won’t be happy if they found out you took anything without their permission. And if they found out I’d let you, I’d lose my spot here at the Resistance. You know how important the Mangiones are here”.

“Yes”, said He, remembering how the Mangiones were one of the founding families of the Resistance due to their early actions against the government. “We need to go to the meeting now”.

…

As the two entered the meeting, they could see that everyone was in a frenzy. People were running all around and panicking over something that seemed to be approaching Key Island, well, two somethings.

“Our radars have picked up on two unidentified objects coming towards Key Island, one from the ruins of South America, and the other from Washington D.C.” said Kenny, the train conductor and higher up in The Resistance. “The one from D.C’s origins seem obvious, Nosferatu and the Gray House are taking the fight to us, while most of us are distracted by South America! We’ve fallen right into his trap again! As for the South American one, we have no clue, but rumors are spreading that it could be someone who blamed the Red Savior for the destruc- anyways, all hands have to be on deck for the defense of Key Island and our Resistance”.

Suddenly, Red Herring burst into the room, carrying a pile of papers. “Kenny, Coach, you need to see this. Some guy just got shot in front of me when I was eating at the Jersey Mikes in old Flagstaff and gave me these papers, I think they’re what we need to turn the tide!”

“Read the room bro”, said Coach. Red Herring looked around, seeing the chaos and the radar screenings showing the two objects coming closer and closer. 

“Oh god, these papers must have something to do with that, we’re in huge trouble aren’t we-“

“It’s not your fault, Red Savior”, said Kenny, “we will use these documents any way we know how, but for now, the defense of New Flagstaff is the most important objective. We need a team to defend us, Coach already volunteered, and I’m sure you, as our savior, will lead the charge and protect The Resistance!”

“Yeah bro, with you, me, and my revolver, nothing will be able to stop us!”

“I’m.. not sure, I would need three more people to be with us, need to watch all of our backs you know?” Said Red Herring, scanning the crowd for anyone who seemed ready to perform this daring mission, “is anyone here willing to join me and Coach in leading the defense of New Flagstaff against the invaders?”

Luigi raised He’s and his own hands up in the air. “We will help you Red Savior, for you the good of the Mangione family and our cause!”

“What are you doing Luigi…” muttered He, but he quickly shut up, realizing the opportunity he had been given.  This was his chance to prove to everyone that he was more than a joke, that He was Him.

“Good, good, anyone else?” Said Kenny, “is anyone else going to join our savior and live forever in glory?” The crowd remained silent for a moment, before, suddenly,  a yellow hand raised above the crowd, as a peppy voice chirped out four distinct words. 

 “I’m ready! I’m ready!”

Nosferatu’s enemy had returned. SpongeBob was back.

Chapter Text

As Barracuda’s jet careened towards New Flagstaff, Crook smiled. Finally he could stomp the resistance, and continue his own plans to take back his second term. All he needs is those documents back. In the wrong hands, all of his edge would be gone. He went through so much to get those documents, he wasn’t going to lose it to some skeleton. Suddenly, an ear shattering explosion came from Crook’s front door. Before he could react, a shot had rung out.

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

As the planes grew ever closer, the five prepared themselves in the resistance’s armory. The group, completely unaware of what was coming, sporadically grabbed whatever seemed lethal. They took anything that seemed even remotely effective in whatever battle was about to be fought.

Finally, an alarm sounded, the planes were there. As Kenny looked out the window, he saw countless paratroopers, however this wasn’t a normal military. Hundreds of Beavers started to descend onto Key Island.

“Hey gang, hope you’re ready for a stuffing filled massacre.” remarked Kenny. He was feeling pretty quirky before he spoke.

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

Barracuda was shocked by what he saw unfolding on Key Island. So many grey parachutes floated over the island, how could he possibly get a good shot on his target? With all of this chaos, he’d be spotted by someone, either the paratroopers or the resistance. Being foreign to both, he’d be killed if any of them spotted him. This job wouldn’t be easy, but with the 100 coin reward, he had to do this.

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

She stood there realizing what she had just done. She never wanted to do it, but Nixon was getting too close to the truth. All she had to do was find those documents. This house Nixon had stayed in was left a disaster after the tearing, are the documents even intact, are they even here? This place doesn’t look like it was ever secured, why would he keep such important documents in here? Suddenly, she felt her phone vibrating, it was probably the manager calling to see if the job was done.

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

Slappy II smirked as the army of beavers descended onto New Flagstaff. He wasn’t even sure how many beavers there were. His best estimate, hundreds of them, but there could be potentially thousands. Perhaps they should do a thorough count after this. Before Slappy II could even think about how they even paid the beavers if they didn’t know how many there were, he noticed something strange on the radar. Another plane was here, but Nosferatu only sent him to Key Island. Who is controlling this plane?

“You Beaver 612, do you want to do something other than attack the resistance’s headquarters?” he asked the only beaver still on the plane. It was clear this beaver was scared of something that was happening.

Beaver 612 slowly looked up at Slappy II, after a few seconds, the beaver nodded its head.

“Perfect, go put on that jetpack over there and stop that other plane”

At this order, Beaver 612 seemed excited. Beaver 612 always wanted to use the jetpack, but was never given the chance. With almost 0 hesitation, the beaver quickly equipped the jetpack, then set off towards the other plane.

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

The group of five, now fully geared up, stepped outside of the armory. The sun was completely blocked out by the amount of beavers descending before them. All five of them knew what was next, they all took a deep breath together, and then started firing into the air. Stuffing from the beavers they hit started raining from the sky, but then the first few beavers touched down on the island. As the beavers landed, they started sprinting towards the sole defenders of the resistance. Clearly they’d have to do more than shoot to survive. What came next was some of the most violent experiences any of them had, as Luigi and He started using their greatswords to cut the charging beavers clean in half. Both of them constantly slashed as Kenny and Red Savior shot the beavers that were still descending out of the air. It was clear Noferatu built this army with quantity over quality, as the beavers were awful fighters.Very few of them were able to attack any of the five, except, there were only 4 of them now. Red Savior looked around, He and Kenny were still next to each other, still providing ranged support to He and Luigi. Spongebob wasn’t anywhere Red Savior could see. Spongebob had been given an important role, he was to make sure neither of the planes could return back to their bases.

“Coach, do you know where Spongebob went?” Red Savior yelled over the noise of the conflict before them.

Coach proceeded to glance all around himself before saying “No bro, I don’t.”

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

It was clear to Barracuda that killing Red Savior would be near impossible, and if killing Red Savior was close to impossible, finding the documents truly would be. With the chaos unfolding below his plane, he’d be more likely to be killed than to actually fulfill his contract.

Suddenly the door to his plane opened, and a huge stuffed beaver climbed in. Barracuda had never seen anything like this beaver, but then he released what it was doing. As the beaver pulled the trigger on its revolver, Barracuda dove to the side, narrowly avoiding the beaver’s shot. Before the beaver even readied its next shot, Barracuda impaled it with his giant machete. The beaver’s eyes strangely instantly changed to Xs. It was a strange sight, but it was clear he killed the beaver.

Barracuda then looked out the window and realized that the beaver he fought was not alone. Those paratroopers weren’t normal soldiers, they were the same as the stuffed beaver he just fought. Suddenly, Barracuda got an idea of how he could complete his job.

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

He wasn’t ready. Why he actually volunteered was beyond him. As soon as Kenny fired off the first shot, Spongebob ran back into the headquarters. He wasn’t if anyone had seen him, he hoped no one saw him, but all he wanted was to get away. Away from New Flagstaff, away from Key Island. He was a coward at heart, that would never change.

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

“Did you get him Kita-san?” Seika Iijchi was desperate, those documents needed to be taken away from Nixon.

“I got him, yes.” replied Kita, shakingly.

“Have you gotten the documents? We have to make sure that Nixon didn’t give the recipe of eternal life to anyone else.”

As Kita went to respond, the call suddenly ended. As she frankly tried to call Iijichi back, she suddenly felt the barrel of a gun to the back of her head.

“I shredded those documents weeks ago. They already fully served their purpose to me.” Nixon’s presence was ominous. Kita was too scared to move.

“Every day of Nosferatu’s term, I’ve plotted how I’d take back the presidency.” it was clear Nixon was about to dive into a deep backstory about his plans, and everything leading up to right now.

“Within 25 days of his presidency, I had already infiltrated the resistance and stolen Nosferatu’s recipe for eternal life. While most would stop there, I realized that I needed more if I were to regain control of the nation. That’s where my work from during my presidency would come in. During my term, I obtained a special tool, and I’ve spent the past 75 days trying to reclaim it. After I received it, I hid it within a folder of unrelated declassified documents about the government. The documents were there to throw off anyone looking for my sinister weapon, they no longer served any purpose. However, my former assistant BeHalde thought the documents themselves were what was important, and ran off with the entire folder. Now my trump card is in the hands of the resistance.”

Nervously, Kita whispered a question “W-what is your-r sinister weapon?”

“Why, my sinister weapon is-”

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

Barracuda gutted all of the stuffing out of the beaver and created a makeshift beaver suit out of its skin. It was one of the most comfortable disguises he has ever worn. After suiting up, Barracuda descended onto the headquarters as Beaver 612 with a simple plan. Get the documents, kill anyone who gets in the way, then leave. How would Crook even know if he actually killed Red Savior? Hell, Red Savior would probably die from the beavers anyways.

Barracuda uses his newly stolen jetpack to gently glide down into the headquarters. Instead of landing on the ground and going through a door, he thought it would be really cool if he crashed through a pair of skylights very dramatically, even though no one would see it, it’d be awesome. He prepared to perform his super sick trick, and when the time was right, he struck.

Shattering the entire window on impact, Barracuda landed feet first, however his fall was surprisingly cushioned. He looked down to see a very weird yellow substance under his feet. It was oddly… spongey? It also has arms and legs? It’s also screaming, is it alive? After standing for a minute straight, the screaming suddenly stopped. Then, Barracuda realized that the documents were just sitting on the meeting table in front of him. He scooped them up quickly, but when he did, a black notebook went flying out of the folder.

Barracuda quickly picked it up and stuffed it into his folder. As he turned around to leave through the second window, he realized someone was in the room now. They were in the shadows, up they looked like a freaky creature. The creature’s eyes ominously glowed red in the darkness.

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

Finally, they had killed the last beaver. The four of them by themselves managed to kill the hundreds of beavers sent their way. All the corpses littered the ground, stuffing covered everything. As they all celebrated, Red Savior realized, both the planes were still circling above head. They had to shoot them down. So long as those planes stayed, countless other attacks could be made upon the island. However, Spongebob had their only method of defense against these, and he was nowhere to be seen.

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

“- a death note”. Nixon’s voice boomed in Kita’s head.

“With eternal life, I’d be able to easily go into the grey house and write down everyone’s names. I’d be able to take back the presidency and get my second term.”

How had he gotten a death note? Kita had only ever heard of these from a 2006 anime, were they actually real? Surely not, but he seems so confident?

“I’d be unstoppable, I’d just write down the names of whoever opposed me. My presidency would be eternal. No more watergates to hold the presidency, only pure, cold hard power!”

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

“I see you’ve found the death note. Honestly a really sloppy hiding spot, I’ve seen better.”

The creature approached him, he was completely petrified. What was this thing, how did it get here? What is it capable of? Barracuda decided he should flee, fast. Who knows what the resistance is planning, and who is even driving his plane? He quickly flew off with his jetpack, threw the second skylight, completely shattering it. He looked behind him towards the creature, it was flying towards him.

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

As they ran back towards the headquarters, they saw someone fly upwards with a jetpack. Coach swiftly raised up his revolver, and shot the figure down. The jetpack instantly exploded. They all looked at each other, shrugged their shoulders, and continued their search for Spongebob. As they moved from room to room, He screamed out. Spongebob was dead on the floor. The group quickly rushed into the room. He was dead, completely.

Suddenly, Luigi called out “Guys, the documents are gone.”

Chapter Text

LOG DATE: 7 2 35
BASE STATUS: Stable

Today marks the first step in our plans to seize control of our situation and reign in the chaos that came so suddenly. This used to be a relatively calm and peaceful place to live, but recently things have began to shift; the world order changed overnight and no-one batted an eye, memories of tragedies that never happened flooded into our heads and are now treated as gospel, an entire island simultaneously came into and out of the public consciousness, and I don't know why.

Recently, we’ve been observing the going-ons of both the Grey House Government and the Jersey Mikes Resistance, of which I’m certain neither existed a few weeks ago, and yet they both do now, and we found that one of the key tools either party could possess, the death note, has been obliterated in a freak jetpack explosion. Whether this means it's gone forever or if it’ll find some way to recover I do not know but until then we are stuck using codenames. Rumour also has it other such pages exist in the world, though not nearly as potent in severity, I do wonder if one of these is the cause of all the recent happenings.

I interrogated the souls of those who perished in the fight, though you can only extrapolate so much from an incessantly chuckling sponge, hundreds of stuffed beavers and a tight-lipped mercenary. If luck holds out, maybe a more important figure dies in the near future and I could gain something of real value.

Why I can remember the world before and others cant is unbeknownst to me, but luckily I was able to prove it to my team by heading to Key Island before any danger was present, and we established a base just off to the nearest landmass. We will try and figure this out and find a way to bring this chaos to an end, and I’ve ran out of things to report on, so I’ll end the log here.

Aleph, signing off

Chapter Text

“Well, most of them,” said Luigi. “When I went to examine the jetpack crash, I found the remnants of what used to be the book, but nearly the entire damned thing was incinerated.  Only one bitch ass page is left. The thing is, nothing is fucking written on it.”

Well, fuck, thought Red Herring. This was their possible key to victory, and they lost it because of the stupid jetpack explosion. “Well I’m sure we will be able to get something from that paper…” he stammered. “We can study it right, figure out its origin? There is a lab of some sort here right?”

“Yeah, but who knows what damage could have been done to it in that attack” yelled He, before pointing at Coach. “We wouldn’t have even lost the documents had you not shot that guy out of the sky! What are you, a moron?”

“I- I just didn’t want him to get away…” muttered Coach. He didn’t think the explosion would be that violent, but now, the entire future of the resistance was in jeopardy because of him. “I’m sorry bro…”

“It’ll be ok everyone! Cheer up!” said Red Herring, “at least all those beavers are gone! We won the fight!” The group of them nodded, but Kenny stared silently. He walked towards the center of the group, clearly thinking something wasn’t right.

“Yes, they’re gone for now, but now that they know the location of Key Island, they will be back.  Who knows what they could bring next time, maybe even thousands of beavers! It doesn’t matter, though, we will make sure that they don’t find us again.” He then beckoned the group to follow him.

“You see, the reason Key Island is extremely hard to find, is that it can teleport.” The halls were eerily quiet, as most of the resistance was either still in South America or treating the wounded. The group walked for what seemed like forever, before stopping in front of a small metal door. “This is the lab, it’s also where the teleporter is. Our new location is somewhere off the coast of Guam. Luigi, give the paper to Natasha, our chief scientist”. Suddenly, Natasha appeared behind them, wearing a long lab coat and with curly purple hair.

“Mr Luigi, the paper?” She asked, holding out her gloved hand.

“Here you go”, said Luigi, “I’m glad to get rid of the thing, it gives off bad vibes”.  Marissa took it and walked away, with the rest of them confused about who she even was, or why they hadn’t heard of her before. 

That woman… there was something about her… thought He. But no, he must keep himself from thinking about that, his devotion to the resistance was what mattered most. That being said, he couldn’t shake how she seemed to look at him, longingly.

THREE WEEKS LATER

She knew this paper was from something important, but she didn’t expect it to do this. It seems even her years in The Resistance didn’t make her able to expect everything, but now, things could finally change.

“Marissa, go fetch the others, we’ve made a breakthrough”.

“Yes ma’am Natasha!” Marissa replied, quickly walking down the halls to collect the elite of The Resistance, those who could complete this mission.

…

“SpongeBob was a great man. For the little time I knew him I knew him to be a brave soldier, and now that he has fallen gloriously in battle, he must now return to the sea”. SpongeBob’s casket was then lowered, as the crowd of people cried.  Red Herring then stepped off the podium, wiping a tear from his eye. 

“You ok bro?” Said Coach, walking up to him. “I didn’t expect you to get all emotional about that. I mean… it is kind of my fault we’re still in this mess”.

“You did all you could Coach. It’s not your fault we lost the documents in that explosion”.

“But it IS my fault bro! I let us all down, and now we’re on the run and everything is falling apart and I DON’T KNOW WHAT TO DO!” He throws his revolver down on the ground, as the crowd begins to stare at them.

“Oh that’s the guy who destroyed our entire futures!” Yelled a member of the crowd.

“Nice shooting Mr. Basketball! Is that the only shirt you have?” Said another.  Quickly, the entire crowd of the funeral began to erupt in yelling at Coach, as he slowly began to slink away and cry.  Luigi and He, who were also at the funeral, began to rush towards him.

“He may have made us lose the documents, but if it weren’t for his brave fighting, we’d all be dead or worse!” shouted He.  “He single handedly killed 30 beavers with that revolver, and this is all you focus on? I may have been angry at him at that moment, but it's been weeks, get over yourselves”.

“Yeah, fuck all of you for yelling at him. This man is a hero! He deserves way more recognition than you can possibly imagine!” Luigi added.

Red Herring raised his hand up, and everyone fell silent.  “I know you are all mad at him, but please, he already blames himself enough, there's no need to make him feel worse about himself”.  The crowd began to nod, before erupting into applause.  Red Herring was used to this, as they did see him as their savior, but he still wasn’t really comfortable with it.  “Please stop, I did nothing worthy of your applause…” he interjected, and they all fell silent again.  Suddenly, a scientist with dark wavy hair and big circular glasses rushed out of the crowd.  She barely gave everyone a second to register her before saying.

“Red Herring, Coach, Luigi, He, my name is Marissa , and you need to come with me”.

…

In the lab, Kenny and Natasha stood around a table, staring at the one paper that was left of the Death Note.  Except now, something about it was different.  “You mean that after three weeks of us trying everything to decipher what this thing was and failing, it just does THAT??” Yelled Kenny, clearly terrified of the situation.

“It is very worrying Kenny, but I am sure that we will be able to decipher it. At least, if the Red Savior is truly who we think he is.  Ahh, here he comes now with the others…”.  Red Herring and the group, led by Marissa entered the lab, looking shocked at what lay before them.

“Why the FUCK does it have words on it now???”said Luigi, “It didn’t say anything before, did it??”.

“No I don’t think it did…” said He.  Could this mean that they still had a chance? Could this mean The Resistance could rise again?  He then found himself staring at the chief scientist again, before darting his eyes away. He seriously needed to stop feeling these things.

“Anyways, now that everyone is here, it’s time to discuss what this paper says,” said Kenny.  “It says, and I repeat, ‘Oh Red Savior, if that is your title.  I hold the key to something vital.  If you wish to reclaim this book, I know exactly where to look.  Visit the home of the Mighty Goat, and maybe then, you’ll find the Note.’ Now, the ancient Mighty Goat is rumored to be located somewhere within the Himalayan mountains.  We need to send some of you to see what this is about. Starting with you, Red Herring”.

“Oh god, I really am not sure I am up to this, I am afraid of heights,” he said.  Everyone stared at him in shock.  “Anyways, if the paper wants me to go, I think I probably have to”.

“I’ll go with you bro!” Interjected Coach.  This would be his time to redeem himself, to retrieve the thing that he destroyed in the first place.  “I-I can be useful, PUT ME IN COACH!!” He ran up to Red Herring and began shaking him.

“Ok Coach, you may go,” said Kenny.  Now, Natasha here wants to send you, Marissa, with the group in order to do some studies on the Mighty Goat and whatever ‘Book’ this paper is referring to.”  Natasha silently nodded, wishing for her assistant to get more experience in the field.

“I mean, I’m hardly ready-” said Marissa, fumbling with her glasses.  “I don’t think I can really do what you want, but uh… if you wish I will go!”

“Excellent.  We want only four people on this mission, so Luigi, He, one of you will have to choose to stay”.  They both looked at each other, before silently coming to an agreement.

“I will go,” said Luigi.  “If there’s anyone you need to try to take out an ancient beast, it would be me”.  He looked at He, before hugging him, as He wished Luigi luck on the trip.

“I’m sorry everyone, I just think I have the least to offer here.  You’re probably all better off without me...” muttered He.  This wasn’t his only reason for staying, however, as his mind was still drawing him to the mysterious scientist of Natasha”.

“Very well.  You four are to be sent to one of our Jersey Mike's locations in Nepal.  There you will meet a Sherpa, who will bring you to the temple of the Mighty Goat.  We are all counting on you, and if you are to fail, it is likely that Nosferatu will rule forever. You all are now, The Fellowship of the Toppings!”

…

Nixon had sent those girls home to Japan.  They knew he no longer had the documents, nor the Death Note, but he knew that they would try to find them once they got back.  They could be useful, so instead of killing them he put a tracker on them.  It was the best he could think of at that moment, as that stupid assassin Barracuda had died when trying to retrieve the Note.  He thought to himself, Tricky Dick, you’ve outdone yourself this time! It’ll be like Watergate never happened!   Now all the Crook could do is sit back, and wait for everything to fall into his hands, like it always does.

…

Nosferatu sat solemnly at his desk.  His attack on Key Island had failed, and now he couldn’t even find them where they once were.  His rage, he put onto Slappy 2, putting his best general into the hospital.  Now, he was at his breaking point.  He knew he shouldn’t have relied on a bunch of beavers, but now there were more pressing matters.  Rumor has it that The Resistance nearly got control of a powerful weapon, but that it was destroyed in the fighting.  He knew better however, and knew that it was not entirely gone.  They would be searching, and he would catch them, and go to their HQ himself. All he would need is a glimpse at Key Island, and suddenly, it would be like he never lost the battle at all.  He was in control of the time, all he needed was the place.

Chapter Text

Nosferatu sits at his Oval Office in deep thought. He’s been pondering.

“Can I truly trust anybody to represent my interests?”

He asks himself this over and over. It’s a lingering thought that just won’t go away. Somehow dictated by the doubt in his mind, as if he were possessed, he gets up from his chair. He starts marching out of his office.

A random advisor rushes to his side as he opens the doors to his office. The advisor talks about the lingering doom of Subway. Of Jersey Mike’s. Of sandwiches. “Witchcraft, I tell you!” Nosferatu pays it no mind. The buzz of all this recent political drivel has been demotivating for him. At the end of the day, all he wants is his family back.

He marches onwards. Onwards. Not thinking of the sandwiches.

He enters the council room with all of his various congressmen, as shadowy and unknowably unknowable as ever. They murmur thoughts about the legendary vampire, but he pushes past them. It’s not worth it. Has it ever been?

He steps out onto the balcony of the Grey House. He views the horizon out in front of him. Interestingly, he sees the sunset for the first time in years. Nosferatu always kept to himself, in fear of the sun, but those fears were majorly unfounded. A sunset like this, so tempting, so beautiful, was nothing he could stop himself from seeing.

He peers at the vast garden out in front of him. An array of roses, daisies, and blue duikers are laid out in the field being overlooked by this balcony. It was a real pain for the administration to go out and freeze all the blue duikers in the shape of the American Flag, but it was what was told of them, and so they did it.

Nosferatu thinks about what was told of him, what was promised of him.

.

..

...

A glass vase near him shatters. He jumps back, shocked at something so sudden happening to him right now.

Something clicks in his brain.

“This, this is all wrong. What I’m doing, what I’m contributing, is wrong. As much as Subway fucking sucks, they’re trying to get by on what society provides for them. All the lowly managers of these sandwich shops on every corner of every town, they have lives too. They have families too. I am doing the world too much harm for anyone’s good. I quit.”

All of a sudden, out of nowhere, two figures in suits jumped Nosferatu from behind.

“Mf- HELP!”

Nosferatu cries out for any of his advisors to hear him. Nobody can hear him. His screams were being washed out by the ice cream being stuffed in his face to silence him. Icecreamboarded.

He blacks out.

...

“Welcome to the Ben and Jerry’s Authority. Your time is up.”
Nosferatu comes to, and peers out to an endless ensemble of various desks and office workers. It looked kinda like the Labyrinth. Standing tall in the center of the vast void, was Ben, Jerry, and Owen Wilson.

Some mascot looking like a clock then asks “Do you know why you’re here?”

“I’m not sure why I’m here, or why your mid-ass ice cream was waterboarding me in that way. I don’t respect waterboarders, never have. I think their occupation is foolish and tiresome. I get a lot more results out of people when I hiss at them, waterboarding is just gonna hydrate them. A lot. That isn’t my idea of fun.”

“Well, we ICECREAMBOARDED you for that exact reason. People love ice cream, and people after eating sweets tend to talk a lot more.”

“Oh. Well that does explain the illustrious display of complex vocabulary seemingly out of nowhere. It explains my willingness to talk at least.”

The clock introduces herself. “I am Miss Minutes, but you can call me Owen Wilson.”

Nosferatu appears confused. “I know Owen Wilson from being a bird, a dog, a fucking car, but I don’t think he was a talking clock.

“Well, Owen Wilson is known in your universe to transcend time and space, a forever blond, always sounding in his 20s. They have played various roles of various godhood, it only makes sense for them to be a Christlike figure, in the very nature of their being.”

Nosferatu, still confused, “I haven’t seen any Owen Wilson churches around.”

“Look harder.” Owen Wilson hands him an iPad tablet from the 2000s, and puts up a YouTube Video. The URL reads out: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_TBbTKqF6zo

3 HOURS LATER

“That doesn’t look like the actor Owen Wilson.”

“Oh, my bad! I transitioned.”

“Ah, gotcha.”

Owen Wilson continues on with her explanation. “Over the years, Superior Ben and Superior Jerry have been innovators in the Ice Cream Space. They have made delightful Ice Cream flavor names such as Chunky Monkey, Americone Dream, and the Hindenburg.”

what the fuck

“And so, you must be wondering, ‘what the fuck’? How does any of this relate to why you are here now, and why I’m a talking clock? Well, Ice Cream changes people. It dictates people. Superior Ben and Superior Jerry were sitting in their ice cream workshop one day, with their hammers and drills working away at the next big thing. They decided to call their next best creation, The Vampire.”

Nosferatu seems drawn to this particular conversation, because he’s a big DECO*27 fan. His favorite vocaloid artist!

“Sure enough, the next day, a version of you rises to power with seemingly no history, no preamble, no We The People, no democracy. You rise up and start a coup. And, in fact, beyond the Superior’s knowledge, this happened everywhere. Every time.”

Nosferatu is dumbfounded. DECO*27 is a genius!

“We at the BJA control time. I, in fact, was a lowly employee at this institution, gobbling away at my Choca-lotta Cheesecake, when suddenly, an alarm went off. One of the timelines was having a tough problem with an overdose in cheesecake production. Something about the Cheese Caves flooding Wisconsin. I went there with my dear friend Loki, and he was consumed by the Goop. In the wake of this tragedy, I demanded answers from this Ice Cream company. I don’t know what power they possess, but it’s important.”

Nosferatu was getting bored of this exposition, he just wanted some fucking ice cream. Tune out?

no [yes]

andsowhenimetupwithbenandjerrythesuperiorsastheyaretheysaidthattheyhadthespecialgiftofknowledgeandreasoningtopredicteventswithverygoodaccuracyandwhentheytoldmethatiknewthattheyweresomeonetobetrustedinfactsomepeopletobetrustedandwestagedacoupofthecurrentlynamedtvatoestablishmorebroadicecreamproductionsandcontrolthegoingsonthatthetvausedtorunandoperateasandweendedupcontrollingalltimeandspace...

“...so long as we keep our dairy production high, we can continue to have time travel. Let’s hope nobody prevents the first cow from being milked.”

“But anyways, you’re here because Nosferatu is supposed to be evil, and you decided to play the good guy, for just a moment. We can’t have that.”

Nosferatu zoned out and missed all the context as to why he is now being hunted down. “NO DON’T DO THAT! I don’t even know how I could possibly impact events...”

...anddd as if on cue, Nosferatu’s Time Travel falls out of his pocket, and in front of Owen Wilson.

“Nuh uh uh, you can’t have that anymore.”

“I need this to get back to the life I once led, I can fix everything!”

Wilson continues, “This place isn’t about fixing things, it’s letting things go their natural course. When Superiors Ben and Jerry conceived of the Chunky Monkey, they knew that Baba the Ape was going to put on a few pounds. When Superiors Ben and Jerry conceived of the Americone Dream, they knew that John Locke was gonna be a bitch.”

Owen Wilson slams the table with much force.

“WHEN THE SUPERIORS CONCEIVED OF THE HINDENBURG, THEY KNEW JOHN HINDENBURG WAS GOING TO HAVE A ROUGH DAY.”

“These things happen, and The Vampire is meant to predict your evil uprising. The Superiors don’t create these events; they simply respond to the cosmos.”

Nosferatu starts crying, “You don’t understand the true value of the cosmos, not today, not ever. Love, in the end, wins. And as for you, I don’t see any love in your soul. I just see the time.”

“Time destroys love, it consumes it. Through our shared mortality, any semblance of love is lost on you. It is reduced to ashes. Time is the ultimate destruction of all and anything that could be enjoyed.”

Owen Wilson pauses, but responds with “I guess we have nothing to worry about, there’s the evil drivel we’re used to hearing at the BJA from a Nosferatu deviant like you.”

Nosferatu cries and begs for mercy, but to no avail. Owen Wilson and Nosferatu start bickering and arguing, and lose attention to the Time Travel lying on the floor.

A couple of guards are hauling away their most dangerous criminal yet. He has various chains wrapped around him, as he’s lugged away in a body bag. Wilson and Nosferatu take notice of the guards passing by, and as if by magic, stop their bickering for just one moment to acknowledge their presence.

“Oh, sorry!” as the guards pass by, stopping their conversation briefly. Arguing away at the fate of the Good Vampire, they don’t seem to notice the Time Travel is missing.

Using the best of his ability, the Devil sees all of this going on, and uses his sinister tricks to weigh the scale just a little bit towards this dangerous criminal’s favor.

“YOU SEE, FOR I AM THE DEVIL, AND I CONTROL LOVE. I CONTROL HATE. I CONTROL THE DESTRUCTION OF ALL AND EVERYTHING. TIME HAS NOTHING ON ME. WATCH AS I SOW THE SEEDS FOR THE DESTRUCTION OF EVERYTHING EVERYWHERE USING THIS ONE SIMPLE TRICK.”

He stashes the Time Travel into the body bag, and lets the criminal get hauled away to his prison cell.

The criminal is unchained, unbody-baged, and peers down at the Time Travel in his hands.

*FLASH* *BANG* These are thunder sound effects to portray this criminal as an e-

He shakes, his arms contort into his spine, his eyes roll into the back of his skull. His legs crumble into millions of pieces. The room around him turns a violent grey, as a light in the center of the room grows. It grows. Grows. Gr-

...

.....

........................................................

Suddenly, Nosferatu wakes up in a plane. Looking around him, he sees friends, foes, and various important figures in his cabinet and in the resistance. He sees an evil version of himself, Red Herring, Coach, Kenny, Jeff Jeffson XXX, Luigi Magione, Nixon, Barracuda, Spongebob, Kita, Seika Iijchi, Aleph, Marrisa, Natasha, and Slappy II. He somehow retains that their names are such, despite never meeting most of them, or why they’re relevant to this plane. They’re all unconscious, dreaming away the dream of salvation, or destruction.

A voice booms on the speakers.

“There are only two parachutes on board. You, alongside another, will be the only ones allowed to exit this plane alive. I have used Time Travel to travel back in time and steal the Death Note for myself.”

“I then went to 2006, and handed the Death Note off to Light Yagami, with all the info he needed to avoid getting caught. The one condition I gave him was to not write my name in the Death Note. I then went to the distant future, where Yagami ruled over this world, and stole back the Death Note, with all the names he has ever written inside of it.”

“I went back to the olden days where some weirdos decided to milk cows, and prevented them from such an action. Ice Cream no longer exists, and won’t for a very long time.”

“I have used Time Travel to gather every person of interest and put them on this very plane you are in right now. I have a version of the Death Note which promises to kill all of them in a matter of seconds. I will use the Death Note eraser on whomever you decide to free. As for the others, and the millions more that Light Yagami decided to massacre, they will not be as lucky as you.”

“Finally, I handed off Time Travel to the one person I know is good at getting rid of it. Ronald Weasley, known best for the Battle of the Department of Mysteries, destroyed the entire stock of Time-Turners on display. Knowing this, I consulted him and agreed to destroy All Time Travel ever.”

“Knowing all of this, you are in a futile position to do anything but tell me the location of Key Island, and I’ll let two of you live.”

“With all this being said...”

Nosferatu looks down at his feet, and sees one carton of stray, dairy milk.

“...would you like to play a game?”

Chapter Text

“Well this is some bullshit right here. First thing to consider, why should I care for most of these people? The only person here that I really know is Slappy II, Mr. Red Savior over there and….” He scowled for a moment upon seeing Spongebob, “Some filth. I care not for these other… 12 people. Secondly, to that knowledge, uhmm… I don’t quite have that information anymore. That island could be anywhere now that you fucked with time. I remember reading a bit of documentation about Key Island, it was all boring but the teleportation. Have you not played Life is Strange at all?”

“Oh.”

“Thirdly… Is this plane currently crashing?”

“Uhmm…” the mysterious voice went silent and only the sounds of the plane engine could be heard until, “Not at this moment. We have plenty of fuel.”

“This feels like you haven’t thought this one all the way through. So fourthly, I’m sure you know who I am and how strong I am, right?”

“That one I did think through. Currently it is 12:00 PM, Mountain Time.”

“Oh. Well damn. Hmm…” Noseferatu looked out the plane to see that they were in the middle of a desert, supposedly in the middle of nowhere of Nevada - New Mexico, so it would be a rough trek to find anywhere to safety.

“So, I didn’t think of the time travel shenanigans too much, I think that’s a little obvious… So I-”

“That’s another thing actually. Because time is so fucked now, would Flag Staff actually have what you need still?”

“Actually, yes. Most of the events that you may remember did happen. I made sure of that.”

“So… who are these other people then?”

“Members of the resistance.”

“... Why not just have one of them awake instead of me?”

“. . .”

There was a long pause. The mysterious voice didn’t say anything. Presumably, regretting all of these poor circumstances.

“I’ll just land the plane. I can’t get what I want like this.”

“Okay then.”
____________________________________________________________________________

I took a grand total of 1 hour to land at the Albuquerque airport. Nosefratu carried out the rest of the passengers. The entire airport was a ghost town, everything was left in it’s renovation, nothing being finished. Whoever that mysterious voice was hadn’t left the plane, at least, not by leaving the port. Soon, the plane itself left Nosferatu stuck in this airport with a certain somebody who had thwarted his plans… and Spongebob. Also Nixon I guess but Nosferatu isn’t aware that this was former president Richard “Crook” Nixon.

Chapter Text

Orlok sat on a bench at Terminal 42, looking at the unconscious bodies of all of the most significant figures in the ongoing war that were strewn across the sticky carpets of the Las Vegas airport. Shouldn't there be some sort of designated survivor or something? Doesn’t matter. Has any of this mattered? Debatable. The country, the timeline, and his mind were all totally ass-fucked. The airport was entirely empty except for this party of fools, as all commercial flights had been cancelled in the wake of several 9/11 adjacent-events in the recent weeks. He eyed a King Kong themed slot machine, a monolith of one of the only certain things left in the world: capitalism. Also monkeys.

Orlok rolled a Benjamin Franklin around in his pocket as he approached the machine. He wondered if he would ever end up on a bill in the future, or if there would be bills in the future, or if there would be a future. Would his quest for immortal life even matter if the universe was torn apart by a single notebook or an ice cream company or a clock that starred in several Wes Anderson classics? What definitely wouldn’t matter is the money he was about to put into the King Kong slot machine.

One hundred in. Orlok hit the button on the terminal in front of him. Before he knew it, three King Kongs aligned in front of him. A wheel spun and landed on “PRIMAL.” The CGI ape roared in front of him as hundreds of thousands of dollars racked up on the screen. King Kong was once a movie monster, just like Orlok. A black and white creature designed to bring terror to audiences as they munched on popcorn. Now look at King Kong, a foolish mascot to lure the elderly into wasting thousands. And Orlok was real, he was standing at this machine. Why? Oh, yeah, the ice cream gods of course. They created the Vampire flavor and the timeline willed him into existence. They of course also created Hundreds of Beavers and Key Island Lime and Jersey Mike’s surprise and all of these other bullshit promotional flavors that fucked up the timeline almost as much as the strange old man who gathered Orlok and his enemies onto the plane. What other flavors had they created? Of course, Chunky Monkey. And here he was, clear as day, the chunky monkey depositing hundreds of thousands into Orlok’s already over-inflated bank account. Only, Orlok existed beyond the realm of the screen. A real monster.

“If I get to be real…” Orlok muttered to himself, “if I get to be the only real monster, I will be the greatest monster that ever lived!” He cackled maniacally, and lightning flashed outside. A great downpour began, greater than Los Vegas had ever seen. The streets would soon begin to flood, but Orlok was focused on his return to evil and annihilating the rebels that the old man had so kindly brought him to.
“Finally, I will have my revenge on the Red Savior! Finally I will have eternal life! FINALLY I- wait where the FUCK did you go?”

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Red Herring, Coach, Kenny, and Luigi were racing down the Las Vegas strip as sirens blared. 

“JESUS CHRIST” Luigi yelled over the sirens, somewhat out of breath. “ Do you guys remember anything after we left for Nepal?”

Red Herring tripped over his own cape and responded “No, we must’ve been kidnapped! Fucking Nosferatu, this is why I didn’t want to get into this hero stuff!”

“It’ll all be worth it when we find the Mighty Goat!” Coach said. He pulled a locket out from under his shirt and opened it. He gently stroked the picture of LeBron James housed within. “I know it’ll be you” he whispered, too quietly for the others to hear.

The group heard buildings begin to collapse behind them as they approached the Strat, the tallest and most structurally sound building in Vegas. Red Herring’s skeletal legs were beginning to crack under the pressure, and Coach’s fat ass was beginning to cook from the friction. The colossal wave was swallowing the street, and it was clear that the Strat was just out of reach. Coach stopped. “Team, we only have about a minute to live, so I say we should get our confessions in now so that God may be merciful. I’ll start: I don’t understand how basketball works. I don’t know what a three pointer is really. Also I’m gay as fuck.”

Luigi held his head high and said “I’m gay too. I’ve been down bad for He since the rebellion started like two weeks ago or whatever. Also I never actually killed Brian Thompson, I just liked the attention, but the gay thing is more important.”

“Yeah the gay thing was more important for me, too, forget the other part.” Coach said.

Kenny bravely joined in: “My mom was a conductor and my dad was an orc, so technically I’m only a half orc and only a half conductor. I never deserved the title conduct-orc. Also I’m like a low-key non-binary.”

Red Herring only had one confession to make. He hadn’t been alive for long, but there was one bombshell he was hiding, and he wasn’t gay so he couldn’t say that instead. “Guys, I don’t remember who I might’ve been in my past life, but you guys have helped me realize who I am now. I’m not really a revolutionary, or a hero, or a messiah. What I really am… what I have been since I stumbled out of the grey house… is…”

SUDDENLY, TRIKE “DEUS EX MIKE-INA” MIKE SHOWED UP ON A GOLDEN MOTORCYCLE WITH 2 SIDE-CARS ATTACHED ON EITHER SIDE AND SAID WITH A BOOMING VOICE “GET THE FUCK ON!!!!!!”

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Orlok was stomping around pouting over the area where the Fellowship of the Toppings was laying before he went to the monkey machine. A staff phone on the terminal desk rang. Orlok obviously had no choice but to pick it up.

“Terminal… uh… shit hold on…terminal 42, whom do I have the pleasure of speaking with?” Orlok said through gritted fangs.

“Would you like to play a game?” John Kramer said on the other end.

“Well your last game sucked the blood out of a horse’s ass so I don’t know, is this one a little better conceptualized, you old coot?”

“Well it’s less of a game per say and more of a plan, that’s just kind of what I say. It’s branding.”

“Is making unnecessary phone calls also branding? I see you in the rafters.”

“Shit.” John Kramer piloted a 10-foot tall mech suit made of scrap. One arm wielded a permanently spinning saw, and the face of Billy the puppet covered his own. It was draped in black cloth and splattered with blood. “I thought I would make a cooler entrance.”

“How did you do all of this? You’re a mere human.”

“I didn’t just find time travel on my own, you old bat. Ever heard of Fortnite? I was pulled from my home dimension onto a massive battle field full of gods and magic. That’s where I discovered dimensional rifts and, more importantly, time travel. I’ve always been resourceful, so I was able to craft this suit, crank some 90s, and get the hell out of dodge. I thought there couldn’t possibly be a timeline more fucked than that one, but clearly I was wrong. That’s why I thought I could take power here, I just shouldn’t have underestimated you.”

“So what do you want from me now? Or - more accurately - what do I want from you? Why shouldn’t I dispose of you now?” Orlok flashed his crooked white teeth.

“I may have gotten that Weasley kid to destroy all time travel, but I still have one Rift-To-Go left. With some reverse engineering, we could get one two-way ticket to any dimension, and find a weapon capable of accomplishing… whatever it is you’re trying to do right now.”

Barracuda, pretending to be asleep, started to sweat. This was out of his pay grade, he was feeling like a fish out of water.

“Alright, Jiggy…”

“Never call me that ever again.”

“Alright, John, I see your value. You can join my cabinet, I suppose. You are skilled in torture, yes?”

“Well, I wouldn’t call it torture, its more of a test of willpower and mora-”

“Ok, you lunatic, just listen. You see that weird porous aquatic creature there?”

“Nixon?”

“Yes, yes. Take him and Spongebob to terminal 69, then return so we can chat blueprints for your best game yet.”

“But, uh, sir, wouldn’t our time be best spent on finding the ultimate weapon?”

“Revenge is a dish best served sizzlin’ hot and wet, John. Spongebob has already died once, and I’m not gonna miss my chance to torture my enemies before they die again. I am a monster, John. I value cruelty above all. Then we can talk dimensional travel.”

Despite all of his strong moral convictions, Jigsaw had no choice but setting to work on torturing Nixon and the Bob. As Orlok woke Slappy II, Jigsaw became determined to become Orlok’s closest cabinetman so that he may take his place at the right hand of the devil after they conquer what’s left of this timeline.

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Barracuda snuck away into an empty Auntie Anne’s. Peeking above the counter, he could see through the windows of the terminal into a newly forming ocean taking over the Mojave. The only escape would be to rescue that damned sponge to suck up the water, but that would mean walking into the belly of the beast at terminal 69. Better lay low and suck on some pretzel dough, he thought, as he thought about the still bodies of Jeff, Seika, Kita, Iijchi, Marissa, Natasha, and that other guy who was surely important.

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ORLOKTECH

LOG 5/12

“I was the first one to see him. That Red Bastard. If only I knew how utterly and totally our timeline would fall apart because of him. I had his neck under my knife and I let him walk straight to the rebel base. Of course I regret letting him live. However, I don’t regret failing to serve Nosferatu. That scoundrel is an indecisive failure of a leader. We need someone strong in office. I’m bringing him back here, the one that reminds me so much of my own father. Tricky Dick, he is called. I’m taking Air Force 1, though it isn’t the type of aircraft I’m used to. I will save Dick from those old fools that have him captured at Terminal 69 and I’ll teach them a new meaning of “terminal.” Today is the twelfth of May, and it’s gonna be the bad one of the dozen for anybody who gets in the way of F-”

STORAGE SPACE DEPLETED

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French Narrator here, only one more zinger before the chapter is done for real. Remember when I mentioned how Nosferatu saw an evil version of himself on the plane. This is him I’m about to talk about.

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

Laying on the floor, still as a corpse, hidden behind a pillar, he listened to every word. He could even hear the faker’s thoughts. That thing thought he was Count Orlok, master of evil, but his universe is merely a children’s cartoon. His memories are fabricated, he’s no monster. But this creature, laying on the ground, is from a universe without sound and without morals, and he’ll kill every last one of them. The best course of action for anybody in this airport would be to pray to whatever gods are left. 

Chapter Text

“WHO THE FUCK ARE YOU???” Red Herring shouted to the stranger riding the Golden Motorcycle. While Trike Mike was aware they were saying something, it was quite difficult to hear over the rain, and he began to realize that being an entire parking lot away from them was probably not helping. He drove his bike over to them, and as he approached, Red Herring noticed the emblem on his motorcycle and helmet. It looked like the Jersey Mike’s logo, but without the Jersey part, instead just reading “Mike”. “This might be a dumb question, but is that Jersey Mike?”

“Close, but not quite.” Luigi responded. “That’s Trike Mike, son of Jersey Mike. He shows up at Key Island sometimes to deliver handcrafted^[1] sandwiches from his father. He’s a high ranking official who is very respecte-”

“Technically speaking, yes, he's the resistance’s Secretary of Transportation, but I wouldn't go so far as to say he's highly respected.” Kenny interrupted. “He's an idiot and exists as an example of how even in a resistance fighting against corruption, individuals with higher qualifications can get ignored in favor of individuals with connections.”

“Total nepo baby.” Coach added on.

“Yeah, I guess so, but are you guys going to get on?” Trike Mike said, his confidence having been thoroughly shattered ever since he arrived at the ^[1].

Everyone hopped onto the motorcycle, neither Coach nor Kenny apologizing for what was said. While in most circumstances this would be an utterly sick experience on Trike’s Awesome Golden Bike, it was underscored by what felt like an awkward situation.

Attempting to get rid of the discomfort he and Red Herring felt so that they could finally enjoy what was without a doubt the coolest way to escape the quickly-flooding city, Luigi spoke up.

“We’ve been out in the rain running for our lives, and I’d imagine it’s been a stressful few days for all of us. Kenny was probably just upset about that. We didn’t even notice you showed up, so I’m sure he wasn’t trying to hurt your feelings.”

“I knew you were there.” Kenny grumbled, before sitting up in preparation of yet another rant which although true could be delivered in a less harsh way. “You always show up on your dumb golden motorcycle your dad bought you, saving people at the very last minute. You even call yourself “Deus Ex Mike-Ina” like you’re some sort of gift from God. I’ve been running the train system which the entire resistance relies on so much that if I died everything would collapse in under a week. I think of myself as a humble train conductor, but it makes my blood absolutely BOIL any time I think about your stupid face. If your shiny tricycle got a million little dents it would probably be the first real problem that someone as privileged as you has ever experienced.”

As if Kenny had manifested into reality the first real problem that someone as privileged as Trike Mike has ever experienced, several bullets loudly ricocheted against the left side-car.

“COACH YOU GOD-DAMN BASTARD I’LL FUCKIN’ KILL YOU” shouted a familiarly western voice from behind them.

—-

As Richard Nixon began to wake, he felt a sensation in his right wrist caused by a handcuff so tight that his hand was turning purple. He began to survey his surroundings. He was in a very nice bathroom. It smelled clean, likely because nobody had used it in a while. This was confirmed when he glanced up towards the entrance door, which was covered in caution tape. Turning to his right, he saw the reason for the caution tape. There was a large gap in the ceiling, with rain falling through it. On the floor beneath it was a toolbag, a ladder, and a pane of glass. Turning to his left, he saw a very dry-looking SpongeBob, chained to an impeccably-cleaned urinal. Concerningly, there was a camera above the sinks, which had a blinking red light. An airport announcement chime rang, and with dramatic music in the background, a low voice spoke directly to him:

(Dub available here, please read alongside listening for highest clarity)

“Hello Richard. I want to play a game. Forgive the restraints, I’m sure you’re not used to being handcuffed, thanks to your Vice President Crook. If circumstances were different you would be tested alongside him, but I think you and Robert will make an interesting pair. While not as intimidating as some of the other bathrooms my subjects have been placed in, you may find this one to be deadlier. They intended to install a skylight in this airport, but unfortunately for you, they never finished, and I’ve sealed the doorway. If the ever-absorbent Sponge gets his way, the room will flood, but I think it would be in your best interests to prevent that. Before you is an assortment of construction tools, and the window they were going to use for the skylight. I don’t think that hand of yours will be doing you any favors, but it is up to you whether you free it or remove it. Seal the watergate, or else Tricky Dick will have to become Moby Dick.”

—-

Trike Mike glanced in one of his side mirrors, decorated with gems that he now felt looked tacky, and saw a cowboy riding a horse, with a tommy gun in one hand and a lasso in the other.

“JEFF JEFFSON XXX????? IS THAT YOU???????” Trike Mike shouted.

“SURE AS HELL IS, TRIKE, AND YOU’RE HARBORING AN OUTLAW WHO SWIPED MY GUN AND LEFT ME FOR DEAD.” Jeff angrily shouted, spraying a dozen more bullets into Trike Mike’s Bike and puncturing a hole into the gas tank.

“CAN YOU STOP SHOOTING MY BIKE SO THAT WE CAN TALK ABOUT THIS????”

“ALRIGHT, BUT IF YOU DON’T HAND OVER THAT BANDIT I’LL MAKE SURE ALL 5 OF YOU HANG.”

While Trike and Jeff were talking, everyone had turned to look at Coach, expecting an explanation.

“Look, I didn’t mean to steal that guy’s gun. Right before the Key Island invasion, I was in the armory, and I saw a gun that looked cool, so I took it!”

“ONE OF THE FIRST FUCKING THINGS HE SAID TO US WAS THAT HE DIDN’T INTEND TO GIVE THAT GUN AWAY!” Red Herring yelled.

“I was barely paying attention when he introduced himself. The only things I got from the conversation were ‘Jeff Jeff XXX’, ‘cool revolver’, and ‘I give it away’. Plus, the revolver was just sitting there on the wall with all of the other guns!” Coach insisted.

“That interpretation just seems willfully ignorant.”

“Bro, try finding some Adderall under an authoritarian regime and then we can talk about that.”

While Coach and Red Herring were both interested in discussing the difficulties that people with unmedicated ADHD face, the ringing of bullets indicated that Jeff and Trike’s chat had not ended well.

Chapter Text

Everyone was tired. Red Herring, Coach, the Devil, Fortnite Jonsey, Spongebob, the hundreds of beavers, everyone. Especially the Devil. Balancing everything like this wasn’t in his job description. He’s the Devil from the Bible, he should be doing anything but this. Balancing things is God’s job, not his! However, with God missing, probably wanting to get out of the current state of the world, the Devil had to do his job and God’s job. He had to somehow manage the torment of souls while also deciding the fate of those who died, which happened a lot, meaning a massive backlog. He needed a break, but if he took one, both Heaven and Hell would crumble, the former he was fine with, but the latter? Oh, absolutely not. This was his only source of fun, besides playing in the human casinos very rarely, but now, it’s become a hassle. He was hungry, tired, and cold, even though he didn’t know what those feelings felt like.

He lets out a small stretch, not knowing how long it’s been since his last, but quickly goes back to signing the hundreds, if not thousands of papers. An immortal life, yet immortally stuck in paperwork. He couldn’t interfere, though. It broke the rules that were made many millennia ago between him and God. He had to keep going, though. Just a repeated cycle of paper and the scent of ink hitting it. He wondered if this is what a 9 to 5 felt like, except that there’s no breaks, and it goes well past only 8 hours of work. 

He sighed in resignation, before a wish paper caught his eye. A wish for… adderall? Really? Of all things? Was the economy so bad from this war that Adderall was in low quality? Although, it could help with his work… Hmm… Fuck it, he decided to do it. Being away from the paperwork for 5 minutes couldn’t hurt… right? No, no, he couldn’t. It would be too risky, and could cause instability in both Heaven and Hell. He couldn’t, he…

*****************************************************************************************

Barracuda was out of dough. Pretzel dough, cookie dough, actual dough, money dough, every dough. He was a feared assassin, so why oh why is he sitting in an Auntie Anne’s, just waiting? The Sponge was still at Terminal 69, but he didn’t know if he could do it. Walking into the belly of the beast is usually something fools do, and Barracuda knew he had an IQ of at least above room temperature. This wasn’t his style, just hiding away. He needed to do something. He paced back and forth, back and forth, with no ideas coming to him. “Stuck, are we?” Barracuda turned around and saw it, a creature with piercing green eyes, cutting through the darkness. However, that was the only visible part, but it was enough to terrify Barracuda to the core.

“Who… You…”

“Me, yes. Now, while I’d love to sit around and chat, there are more pressing issues.” Barracuda tries to pull one of his many guns, but the creature simply wags its long, crooked, finger. “Bullets are ineffective against kings like I. Now, let’s talk without a hail of bullets or the smell of smoke. I will be generous though, and let you ask one question first.” The creature smiles, its yellow teeth cutting through the darkness.

“What are you? Who are you?” Barracuda tries to back away, but finds himself frozen with fear.

The creature keeps its large grin and holds out a second finger, saying “two questions, but I’ll allow it, since I’m so nice. What I am is a king and a spectator, and as for who, I am simply known as LSE, or you may call me the Lost Souls Eternal. Either choice is perfectly acceptable. I am not the one you saw before, flying away with that book.”

“Then why are you here? What do you want from me?”

“Quite simple. I just wish to see the number of deaths rise. After all, this war has been very fun to watch. So, let’s make a simple deal. I will make you a path to get out of here, and in return, you keep killing people. Without care, without mercy, I do not care. More death, more power for me and you.”

“You… just want me to kill?”

The creature steps out of the shadows, and reveals its form. A tall figure, perhaps around 8 feet tall, but instead of skin, it has blue spiky fur. A crown of green thorns sit atop its mop of black hair, the green eyes still piercing through. It was very lanky, with only a robe of white and green covering itself. “Exactly. Kill without remorse, and I will make you the most feared assassin in the world.” It reaches out its hand, and smiles at Barracuda.

“You’ll… make me stronger?” Barracuda simply stares at it, not sure if it could be trusted. It simply smiles at him. Barracuda thinks about it, but eventually shakes the creature’s hand, unsure of the future ahead of him.

“Wonderful.” The creature smiles widely, but never stops staring at Barracuda. “Just wonderful. Very wonderful. Let us begin our little deal, my new vessel, shall we?”

*****************************************************************************************

“Like, if the devil came to us and offered me adderall for my soul, I might just take that deal,” Red Herring says, right before the explosion of a hospital cut through the air while Coach and Red Herring were talking about the difficulties that people with unmedicated ADHD face

“I don’t think that was planned,” Coach says, before being hit in the head with something flying at high speed, not enough to kill, but definitely enough to sting. Red Herring picks up the projectile, and finds it to be a pill bottle. It doesn’t seem to be labeled, but when looking closely, it looks like adderall. 

“Oh hey, don’t even have to sell my soul for that. Very nice.” He stashes the pill bottle in a pocket.

“Yeah, only at my forehead’s expense,” Coach mutters in disapproval.

“It’s massive anyways, you’ll be fine.”

“Rude.”

“You don’t even have a 5-head, you’ve got a 6-head.”

“Look, Trike and Jeff are coming back, let’s just figure out what’s happening with them, and go from there.”

Chapter Text

Sitting in Albuquerque International Sunport’s only terminal was a lone deer, Bambi. Bambi was tasked by Jigsaw to keep a cooler of ice cream safe and wait for him to return, however it had been 4 days. The ice cream was fully melted now, and Bambi was still waiting for Jigsaw, where could he be? The ice cream had fully melted, and actually why did he even want this ice cream? What significance could a cooler of ice cream have, and what significance does it maintain after being melted? Jigsaw never told Bambi how long he’d be out flying his Boeing 777X, so he could only assume this is expected. Suddenly, Bambi spotted a plane in the sky, but it wasn’t Jigsaw’s, in fact it wasn’t even close to Jigsaw’s. Suddenly, he realized that the people flying the bi-plane were going to crash through the windows of the airport.

.:*~*:._.:*~*:._.:*~*:._.:*~*:._.:*~*:._.:*~*:._.:*~*:._.:*~*:.

Kita had no idea how to fly the plane she was currently piloting, and neither did Seika, despite that she was still desperately trying to help. After their super cool escape from Harry Reid International Airport and following multi-day grand adventure filled with joy and whimsy, Seika decided it would be a good idea to fly the bi-plane they got from the X-Men after helping them revitalize the economy of Black Hat to the nearest airport. While they got quite far, KIta realized she didn’t know how she was going to even land the plane.

The airport came into sight and Kita started the descent, but too late did she realize that not slowing down would be a detriment, along with that Seika also realized there was a deer in the airport, and right after she realized the plane they were both in were about to go into the airport.

~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~

 Kita and Seika jumped out as soon as possible. What was that deer doing in an empty airport and is it still alive? As they were searching around, the deer had dragged itself out from under the plane. Clearly this deer was special, but suddenly it spoke

“Who are you guys? What did you do to Jigsaw?”

Neither of them knew who Jigsaw even was, but they did know who they were.

“I’m Kita Ikuy-” Kita was suddenly cut off by Seika.

“Don’t tell this thing our names, we don’t know what it is!”

“I’m Bambi the deer!” responded the deer supposedly named Bambi. Seika clearly didn’t fully trust the creature

“What are you doing in this completely empty airport?”

“Keeping a cooler of ice cream safe and waiting for Jigsaw to come back.”

This really didn’t answer any questions, but it definitely wasn’t the most out there thing they had encountered on their journey, after all that run in with Gumby was crazy.

“We’re just going to go and leave you to that then”

_/~\_/~\_/~\_/~\_/~\_/~\_/~\_/~\_/~\_/~\_/~\_/~\_/~\_/~\_

Four Days Earlier

Gumby woke up like we always did, in his wacky bed, inside his wacky bedroom, inside his wacky house, ready to start another wacky day. He started his day as he always did, by making a rambutan, kiwano, and durian fruit salad, a dish he calls “Gumby’s Wacky Fruit Salad”. While Gumby was used to his days’ routines always following the same wacky schedule, something unusual happened today, the mail must’ve been delivered early, there’s no other reason someone would knock on his door, how would they even find it? Not only was the gateway portal in the middle of the desert, but he purposefully built his house on the edge of his dimensional rift. It was miles away from the entrance, only the mailman was committed enough to go all the way out here, and that’s probably because Gumby pays him so much. However, when Gumby opened the door he was met with an unexpected site, 2 humans. He already knew who they were, after all the whole reason he moved all the way out here was so he could do his job of controlling the fabric of reality in peace, and just in time for the destruction of the Ben and Jerry’s Authority, he no longer needed to worry about them messing with timelines and ruining his scheme, it was quite annoying considering the scale Gumby worked at, minor annoyances like them really made his life harder.

Gumby suddenly realized he was just staring at the 2 humans, saying nothing. They both looked quite horrified in fact.

“Hi, I’m , Controller Of The Multiverse And The Many Threads Of Time! How The FUCK Did You Find Me?”

They both continued to stare back, except with even more horror in their eyes. Perhaps he should’ve introduced himself in a softer way.

“We were actually wondering how we found you too, what is this place and how’d you say your name like that?”

Oh good, Gumby thought the yellow haired one would’ve spoken up, but, how do they not know how they got here, do people not keep track of what’s going on around them? Maybe Gumby should experiment and find out later.

“Well I Don’t Think It Matters How You Got Here, I Just Need You To LEAVE, Now, Please?”

“We’ve been walking in the desert for hours now, then suddenly we got transported here, how do we even leave?”

Gumby didn’t believe the red haired one, if you know how to jump into dimensional rifts you know how to get out. How on earth could they have possibly gotten in on accident, it’s just not possible.

“Stop Playing Dumb With Me, If You Got Here You Definitely Know How To Get Out. Now If You Don’t Leave Immediately I’m Going To Have To Write You Out Of The Fanfiction.”

“Listen, -”

She definitely did not expect that to happen. Have these 2 girls actually not heard of Gumby before? Were they being honest about not knowing what was going on?

“How did I do that, what happened? What is this place? Who even are you ?”

“Ok Maybe You Actually Have No Idea What Is Going On, If So I’m Just Going To Teleport You Back To Where You Were And Give You A Ford F-150 To Get As Far Away As Possible And Never Return!”

Gumby quickly opened a portal, pushed the girls through, and threw a Ford F-150 before closing the portal. Gumby closed his door and returned to making his Wacky Fruit Salad, when he realized, did he even send them back to the right dimension? Does it even matter though? Their roles were entirely inconsequential and they probably would’ve died if he- wait Gumby never wrote them coming to his house. How did they get there? In fact, Gumby wrote in their deaths, how are they still alive? And wait, what dimension DID Gumby send them to? If those 2 girls are able to transcend his writings, and he doesn’t even know what dimension they’re in anymore…

Gumby is in danger, if they find out too much… He had to stop them…

But what dimension did Gumby even send them to?

=^..^=   =^..^=   =^..^=    =^..^=    =^..^=    =^..^=    =^..^=

Kita and Seika had no idea where to go from the airport. They still were unable to get any calls through to any other member of the “band”. They had service, so maybe the others were in danger? The only way to know for sure would be to get back to Japan, but how would they manage that? They left their F-150 and crashed the plane, not only that but the airport was completely abandoned. As they exited the airport, they looked back, another plane had landed, and not some tiny bi-plane either. They watched the plane as only 2 people got off, and one of them was Nosferatu? Both of them were carrying stuff too, were those bodies?

Seika and Kita got to a hiding spot and watched as Nosferatu and the other guy unloaded bodies, until…

“Those bodies, why do they look like us, like, exactly like us?” Kita was clearly worried, but at her words Seika realized, those WERE their bodies, that WAS them.

----------------8<-------------[ cut here ]------------------

With the power of the Cookie Monster with him, Barracuda immediately ran back to the bodies of the others. He could easily score some points with the Cookie Monster by getting some quick kills as fast as possible. When he got there though, 3 of the bodies were gone, but what does that even matter! However, right before Barracuda fired his first shot, a green clay hand landed on his shoulder.

“HI! I’m , And I’m Wondering If You Know Where The HELL Seika And Kita Went!”

Chapter Text

A man was walking in the middle of the desert, he had heard some gunshots and explosions coming out from the hospital, so he was walking over to figure out what the hell is going on over there. Surely whatever is happening could be stopped, not to mention that the hospital is on fire. Things seem like they need to be situated out, and a fire that needs to be put out. His pace came to a run.

Trike was defeated pretty easily, having almost immediately called for a truce when the bullets started flying. The only thing that even carried with him was his sick Golden Motorcycle. He stood back as Jeff did all the talking.

“Now see here,” Jeff began, “Me and Trike here came to an agreement. Y’all get let go, so long as I get back that revolver you there stole. See here that, I don’t wish harm on you right now, but when push comes to shove, I will, without hesitation, shoot y’all if any sort of resistance is met. Am I clear on that?”

Red Herring elbowed Coach gently, “Did you get that?” Which was met with a shake of the head from Coach. “Cliff notes then, give him the gun or we die.”

Coach took a couple of seconds to decide, not dying sounds pretty enticing, if not preferred by literally everyone in a 2 mile radius. He was just getting up when Red Herring just started staring into the distance. “Is that… Some guy running towards us?”

Jeff also looked towards the distance, along with Trike, Luigi and Kenny, who all said “Yeah, it is,” in unison.

“And it seems like… wait. Holy shit. Is he, like, running super fast or what?”

“That, it seems, he is,” replied Jeff, curiously.

In a matter of, literally no time at all, the man in a very dusty and burnt lab coat was in hearing vicinity, where he came to a screeching halt, kicking up a whole bunch of the desert’s dust. “Alright now. What the fuck is the comotion over here?”

Kenny shrugged. “We were fighting a little bit but… We just came to a, agreement? If you wanna put it that way.”

“Yeah,” followed Jeff, “and who are you?”

The dust settled and the man’s full appearance now had been in full view. His brown hair came down to his waist. “Fredrick.” He lit a cigarette casually, now that he was done running, though he had no lighter with him. “Are we gonna leave this hospital on fire or what?”

“That’s a good point actually. We should fix that. While it’s still relatively tame.” 

Frederick walked into the burning building, thankfully the fire wasn't hot enough to break open the glass, so it’s still salvageable. Trike opened up the top-box of the motorcycle and pulled out a firehose from it. Kenny facepalmed, now knowing that there was more budget from the transportation budget that had been put into the hideous golden bike than he had initially realized.

Jeff sighed, almost everyone forgot about his problem and started pointing his gun towards Coach. “Just give me the damn gun already you assholes.”

Coach started shuffling to Jeff quickly to give the gun before running back to the motorcycle and hiding behind it. Jeff, now with the magazine fed revolver once more, holstered it. He will never leave it in an armory ever again. Now, Jeff ran after Fredrick, agreeing that this was also a problem that needed to be solved. Luigi, Coach and Red Herring stayed by the motorcycle.

“Alright, so are we gonna like… uhhh… help with that or something?” Questioned Luigi. “Like… it’s the least we can do?

Coach shrugged and Red Herring shook his head. “I don’t think we’re exactly qualified for this, I don't think. Not like we have much to do.”

Kenny looked into the top-box of the motorcycle. “Well, there are exactly four more hoses here for us to help, I guess…”

Kenny grabbed one and ran towards the hospital while the other three were getting up to go help. Finally, something to be doing other than talking at least.

Chapter Text

“Your life ends today.”

Barracuda, Cookie Monster, and Gumby all stare at each other with malice. A few hours, and they’re still at it. Gritting his teeth, Gumby asks again:

“Where The HELL Are Seika And Kita?”

“I don’t know, but your shrill, high-pitched voice is extremely painful, and you won’t like what I do to things that hurt.” Barracuda cracks his knuckles. “Still, maybe you could be somewhat competent enough to break a vase with that voice of yours. I doubt it.”

“Vessel, remember our deal?” Cookie Monster towers over both of them, with his lanky arms malforming and shifting erratically.

“Yes, master, I shall kill without remorse. With the strength of the Cookie on my side, I w-”

“Your life ends today.”

Barracuda feels a burning pain in his spine. The poles impaled into him might be the cause of that. Cookie Monster’s body contorts and folds in on itself, as the puppeteer assumes their new role as Barracuda.

The poles are difficult to move through the flesh of Barracuda effectively, the puppeteer sighs, and digs further into his body.

“WHHwhWhWHHH-” Barracuda has no time to defend himself, all of the functions of his body are screaming at him, yelling at him to get away, hide at the Auntie Anne’s, somehow GET OUT OF HERE and call for HELP, and yet he

The puppeteer gets their ice cream scooper. Something that, in the absence of ice cream, is used for surgery instead. They start scooping out bits of Barracuda’s flesh, blood, and organs. First was the brain, second was the heart, third was the spine, then came everything afterwards. Scooping, scooping, and scooping, until there was only a pile of meat left in its place.

The puppeteer takes off their surgical mask, and it’s revealed to be Leshy from Inscryption!!!

He cuts a slit into Barracuda’s skin envelope and climbs inside. Finally, Barracuda is the most feared assassin in the world, a flesh puppet that’d make any Sesame Street fan think it was a creepypasta all along, and be right about it.

And yet, Barracuda is alive. His head is a mask for Leshy to inhabit, like any other, but his very soul is still present. Every mask has a story, a personality, they aren’t simply objects for storytelling to him. They breathe life into being.

Tendrils shoot out of Barracuda’s body, and grab Gumby’s limbs. IT stretches them out like a medieval torture device. Pictured here:

“YOU are goING to DIE. YoUR life ends TODAY.”

It’s not like either of them are powerful enough to take on Gumby, but they have the potential to wreck a lot more havoc than they realize. Even with Leshy puppeteering it, Barracuda can do some damage. I Don’t Want Th- why the fuck do i have to say this again

It’s Part Of Your Contract.

true or not, the nature of this world has been constantly under question, gods and their creations duking it out for the ultimate end, none at all. what’s even the point of entertaining this bullshit anyway

also i’m not paid enough i’m quitting

You Must Not
UNDERSTAND
YOUR
PLACE .

...
...
...

How, how could you...

...
...
...

Eh bien, tu ne peux pas me tuer, tu as besoin de quelqu'un pour fournir la narration, tu ne peux pas être un personnage et le narrateur.

Just You WAIT , A Perfect Day Will Arrive When The Edges Of The Earth Collide. Those Other Two Were AWFUL At Writing, Too Light, Too Silly, And I Can Change A Few Things Around Here!!!

Anyway, What Were The Toys Doing?

Gumby easily breaks out of the grasp of Barracuda. He Starts To Write.

Barracuda, Being Piloted by Leshy, Is Immediately Overcome. It Tries To Fight Back, But Cannot. It Tries To Think, But Cannot. Sensing A Gap In The Enemy’s Pattern, Gumby Stabs It. Gets Stabbed. Gets Stabbed. Gets Stabbed.

They Were Foolish To Cross Me.

Gumby stares at the corpse of Barracuda. Even with Leshy’s power, it wasn’t enough to win. Barracuda was carrying around this strange book, “The Navidson Record”. Gumby’s stomach growls, it hungers for more. It yearns for more.

It Needs More.

The Library of Alexandria wasn’t enough to satiate his hunger, so Gumby starts to CONSUME the book. Word by word, sentence by sentence, page by page, his hunger grows.

Gumby’s arms contort into his spine, his eyes roll into the back of his skull.

“Your life ends today.”



~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~



Kita and Seika are watching across the airport as their doubles are hoisted among many other living souls who were on that plane. Behind these boxes, they hear a faint rattling inside.

“Hey, what’s this?” Kita scrambles to open the box, and yet nothing is inside.

Heart thumping, she looks to her left, on the wall next to a nearby cafe. She starts staring at this wall, endlessly far away, and endlessly vast. How many footsteps would it take to get to this wall? Step, by step, by step, it could take hundreds. Thousands. Trillions. How far does a footstep go? Atom by atom, it could take many years to reach that wall, that blank, staring wall...

They hear another rattling, and turn to see that Seika, and the commotion of the plane, are now gone. This airport was empty before, but a true empty filled the air. It lingered in the drafts of the plasticy smell, the ambient noise of the various vending machines droning and filling the echoes of the room with a sense of

EMPTINESS.

“HELP” cried out a voice. Kita rushes over to the cafe with the peculiar wall, and finds it to be a perfectly normal, ordinary wall. There is nothing particularly interesting about its appearance. The only problem with this wall is that it, too, is rattling. “HELP” the voice cried out again, coming from inside of the wall. Kita starts banging on the wall, desperate for any way to open this wall and save her bandmate, no, her FRIEND.

The creak of a nearby door alerts her, as she turns behind her and sees it. The HELP is coming from this door. She slowly, surely, opens the knob of the door.

The door opens up to a hallway.

It is unclear how far this hallway goes.

It Could Go On Forever.

Kita starts to question the logistics of this hallway and how it could possibly be here, in this airport, but decides against thinking about it. What matters is that Seika is in that hallway, and Kita rushes in to save her.

The light quickly escapes from her view, as the darkness envelops her. She can hear herself think, wandering into a space. Kita can’t see, so she feels the walls on the sides of her with her hands as she walks. The ceiling above her feels like it’s getting higher, and higher, and higher, and she can hardly feel both of the walls of the hallway anymore. It can’t be getting bigger, can it? It’s just getting more difficult to feel the touch of drywall on her fingers.

Eventually, it opens up to a deeper and darker space. There’s a small light emanating from the center of a larger chamber, the size of an average church. Kita stares over the edge of what appears to be an endless staircase downwards, with a tiny speck of light at the bottom from a warmly lit room. The HELP is coming from that direction.

Kita starts descending.

She gets reminded of that time her and her friends went to Enoshima, and climbed up all those steps with such enthusiasm and joy. Now, as she’s descending further into this stairway, a sense of dread fills her mind instead. Running on the adrenaline, unquestioning of her surroundings, a tap on her shoulder would kill her due to the tension alone. She descends deeper yet deeper into the darkest pit of Hell, unimaginable and abstract, as each step gets smaller and smaller the further down it goes.

But those are just words, aren’t they? You can apply so much fluff and meaning to something that can’t quite capture what something really is. Characteristics, traits, labels, they all pale when you actually have to describe something entirely. Something could be truly evil, and yet the only way to say it is, is to call it “evil”. The tip of the iceberg of what someone is capable of doing, of stating to the world that yes, what they are doing is a wrong, an unquestionable wrong, and yet giving it a word seeks to desensitize it, to remove the impact of anything they may have done. Holding up a sign, scrawling the words in chalk to cover up the deeper feeling that it gives, deep down in the gut. A light has spun. A light will spin. Spin around and drop dead in the darkness. It consumes, obliterates, and completely destroys. The destruction of all and everything. I attended a lecture with the professor rambling about words to this effect, and it didn’t dawn on them that they, too, were a part of this problem. If we wish to show what really happens and what meanings mean, we must abandon words entirely. They only seek to disrupt the flow of information the brain is naturally capable of giving us. Distracting us, putting us on the wrong track, making way for all sorts of human bias and error that inevitably leads to conflict and misery.

I need you to turn off all the lights. Yes, YOU

Cover the blinds, turn off every light switch, close every door so that any peek of light from some other room won’t yet touch this room you are in.

I need you to guarantee that there isn’t a single noise present in this very room you are in. Blanket it and remove it.

And even though this room is pitch black, and has no noise running through it, I need you to close your eyes. It should look no different to having your eyes open, but it’s a necessary difference.

If you didn’t, you have no reason to read this text now. I will tell you what you need to do next, without WORDS.

...
...
...

You continue down the staircase of this endless abyss, and start to struggle on the steps. They’ve grown so small now that your foot has no room, and has started to float over the edge of each step. A mouse would have no issue with these stairs, but you aren’t fully equipped to handle this. Still, a lot of thoughts have been buzzing through your mind, some that are quite difficult to put into words, but these are the exact sort of thoughts that don’t require words to feel. Like putting one foot in front of the other, walking forwards into anything and everything possible. It’s possible to remove unnecessary extremities from the human experience to improve it, to feel beyond feelings, to apprehend higher forms of consciousness.

You look directly at the reader. They’re staring into your very soul, judging you as words in a story, as paint on a canvas, a layer of separation from what they understand about you, without understanding your reality. They’re laughing at you. They’re scared of you. But how could they possibly put it into words?

They have no mouth.

The stairs, even tinier than before, aren’t fit for you. In response, your feet have shrunk to be small enough to support each individual step, like a mouse. Each step starts to grow further and further away from each other, with gaps of the void in between, and so your legs have grown to be able to accommodate great gaps such as these. Unreasonably, a ceiling has started to crush in on you as you descend this staircase, and so you have gotten less tall to accommodate.

This place can be anything you want it to be, and anything can happen so long as you want it to. Our subjects don’t have a single thread of control over their lives, and yet we can control ours as much as we please.

This is freedom.

Eventually, you reach the bottom of the staircase. The light is less faint now, and leads into a small pub, with a band playing. It’s strange that there’s anything in here, this far down, and yet they are. They introduce themselves.

“Hey everyone! We were reading the CatSMP Fanfic the other day, and got really inspired by Chapter 20 and wrote a whole song about it! Hope you enjoy!”

and they start singing.

( Go Pause And Listen To This First For The Full Experience, I Paid Them A Lot Of Money To Be Here)

You decide to applaud, wordless.

You’ve forgotten about the voice completely.

It drives the reader insane.

Events happen for no reason, and perpetuate into nothingness before long.

Story without an ending.

Can’t have an ending.

This Isn’t What THEY Want

It would drive someone insane, to forget the name of their family, of their lineage, of all the terrible shit that has ever happened to them and why they’re even on this goddamned earth to begin with.

And yet it doesn’t matter.

With each word forward, more happens, and more happens, and more happens. Does it matter if the previous word bears any relevance to the next? Ghost Fry Kingdom Working Yoke Smoking  Eared Facgea Jolly Wreckage Theremin Verhadw. They attempt to reason, to understand, and yet there’s nothing there. Soulless words, meaningless words, and our attempts to extrapolate more than there really is is fruitless.

You hear a rattling coming from the singer, maybe its bones.

Something climbs out of the singer’s mouth.

It’s Gumby.

“Your life ends today.”



Kita Gets Stabbed.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~



Richard Nixon, still handcuffed on his right wrist, investigated where he was being handcuffed to. It turned out, in fact, the mysterious voice was not very good at making traps, as it wasn’t attached to anything. If this voice was correct about the oncoming flood, he needed to stop it.

“Wha, wait I forgot to chain you to anything, could you kindly attach yourself to that spare urinal next to the Sponge?”

“Har har, as you can see, I’ve earned every cent, and every privilege to ignore your request.” Nixon punches the camera directly in the face, and it shatters into a million pieces. He is unharmed from this.

“Wh- FUCK YOU MAN!” The voice is furious, mostly because it took a lot of misplays to steal that camera.

He takes one of the shards of the camera and uses it to lockpick his handcuffs, freeing his right hand from the Nothing it is attached to. The Sponge watches on as the room starts to fill up with water, and starts pleading for help.

“If you free me Tricky Dick, I’ll help with the oncoming flood!!!”

Tricky Dick considers his options. “Watergate is a guiding principle in my presidency, and back where I’m from, that’s considered a bad thing. Now, finally, I can show them why it was a good thing. I will only uncuff you IF AND ONLY IF you promise to prevent the flood.”

“Another day, another dollar!” Spongebob happily accepts the offer, as a matter of fact he Hates Drowning anyway.

Nixon uses another shard of the camera to free Spongebob, and starts eying the police tape.

“Clearly, the ladder, toolbox, and pane of glass are red herrings, designed to fool me into picking the Wrong Choice. My political rivals have failed at this tactic time and time again in the past. That toolbox is just a Happy Meal, that pane of glass is just sugar glass, and that ladder is just a PNG!”

“Oh, uhmm, good job figuring that one out I didn’t think you’d get that one to be honest, those objects are more of a narrative device than an actual method of escape,” answers the voice.

“This caution tape is the only organic thing left in this room, and likewise, the only thing I can use to actually escape!” Nixon tears the tape off of the entrance door, and starts tying it together.

Spongebob wanders over to the door, wriggles the doorknob, and the door opens completely normally into the rest of the airport.

“Uh Dick, this door is-”

“No time, Watergate awaits!” Nixon is too busy furiously forming a rope with the caution tape. He hoists it onto the roof through the hole in the ceiling meant to resemble a skylight. “HYUP!”

Grabbing Spongebob in his grubby hands, he pulls himself and Spongebob out of the bathroom.

Now on top of the airport, he sees a figure off in the distance running for the nearest airplane, a foolish escape plan. “Let’s go,” Nixon says as he carries Spongebob while sprinting over to this plane while on the roof.

The plane starts to take off with the voice’s owner in it, and Nixon doesn’t have enough time to get into it the “normal” way. He says fuck it, and does a backflip to get on the TOP of the plane. With the wind brushing past his majestic face, he smugly says “Many people in the Arab countries would be impressed with THAT move.”

But before he could gloat too much, the plane takes off and he’s swept off his feet, forced to grab desperately on the sides of the plane as its top speed is reached. The voice, somehow able to be distinctly heard even on top of the plane, laughs. “The flood will come, anyway! It didn’t matter, anyway!” Nixon regains his footing despite the unclear and absurd place he finds himself, and he looks down. Horrified.

The flood consumed the airport whole.

“Your life ends today.”

Chapter Text

The sight was truly horrifying, Nixon was mortified by it. He even forgot he was on a plane for a second, until he started sliding down the top of the plane. Then, as if to answer his prayers, Nixon noticed a trapdoor further down the plane’s body, and it was fully open. He didn’t know what was in the plane, but assuming it was better than falling to his death, he swiftly leaped through the trapdoor.

Inside Tricky Dick found a completely empty plane, well except for Tony the Tiger sitting a few rows back, but he’s not important right now. Crook needed to find out what was next for him, was this plane controlled by the same voice? Instantly realizing how to get an answer, he started running towards the cockpit. Surely the pilot would know the plane’s destination. Richard barged into the pilot’s cabin to find, no one was flying the plane, it was seemingly flying itself. As he glanced around the room, he noticed something on one of the screens, a dark blue circle that simply said “going to Bermuda”.

As the plane finally started descending from its 10 hour flight, Nixon was once again filled with dread. Why had this plane just taken off, who sent this plane to Bermuda, what was to face him when he got off the plane? As he got off the plane at L.F. Wade International Airport, he realized it was… pretty normal there. People were going about their business as usual. It seemed so odd to Tricky Dick that anything normal could exist in the world anymore. Surely there was some twist, the voice would make a grand reappearance and everyone around him would melt. However, as he continued through the airport, that never happened. No unusual voices were there at all. After wandering around the airport for 5 hours waiting for anything interesting to happen, Richard finally decided to get a rental car and leave, maybe outside of this place wasn’t so normal.

As Nixon drove his newly rented Ford F150 down The Causeway, everything continued to be unnervingly normal. Surely by now some wacky character would show up and cause a ruckus, but they hadn’t yet. Perhaps, Tricky Dick thought, he was Bermuda’s wacky appearance, after all he seemed to be the one who stuck out the most. He basically arrived on a private jet, directed by the gods to come here specifically. While these thoughts haunted him, Richard was also partly relieved to be free of all the frivolity of his previous antics. He already risked his life so many times, why keep testing his odds. Perhaps, if Bermuda was truly as it seemed, he could settle down here, away from all commotion that he had just left. But before he could worry about leaving everything behind, he had to focus on the present. Nixon currently found himself integrated back into a normal society with no clear motive, so for now he’d have to find a place for the night.

That night Tricky Dick decided to rent a room in Flatts Village. He was hoping that when he woke up tomorrow, he’d still have a choice on whether to convert to a regular life in Bermuda.

—------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

When he awoke…

Everything was still as before…

Normal…

In a way the normalcy was bizarre…

Ever since Nosferatu took the presidency, nothing has been normal for Richard, nothing…

 Did the locals even know who Nosferatu was?...

Maybe he should find out.

Nixon got ready to go out and ask everyone he could find if they’d heard of Nosferatu, sure he could make himself look like a mad man, but he basically was already. As he went to claim his free complementary breakfast, he immediately started his mission. He asked everyone at the hotel buffet if they’d heard of Nosferatu before, if they knew what was going on in America, and even if anything unusual had happened in Bermuda recently. Surprisingly, people did know of Nosferatu. But if people knew of Nosferatu… how did everything seem so normal here? No one could think of any oddities that had happened in Bermuda either, so what was going on? Not only that, how did people treat the matter of Nosferatu so casually? No one had acted afraid of him at all, just saying “Yeah, isn’t that the president over in America now?”. 

Suddenly, Tricky Dick realized he was the oddity. He had been so obsessed with Nosferatu that it took over his life. Why was he even so obsessed in the first place?... Well it was definitely the whole wanting to be the president again thing… had that really taken over his life so much? Were there more places like Bermuda out there? Was Richard so deeply obsessed with revenge that he let his world become a bubble?

With that thought, Nixon decided, he was done getting roped up in stopping Nosferatu, who needs the presidency anyways?

—------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

SpongeBob was being dragged along by Tricky Dick as he swiftly moved out of the airport, but suddenly he felt Richard’s grip give way. As SpongeBob looked up, he saw Nixon perform the most amazing back flip he’d ever seen, but the plane was moving! He just got left behind. He tried to yell out, but the plane motors were too loud. SpongeBob watched as the plane Tricky Dick had just done a sweet backflip onto flew away, leaving him behind. SpongeBob lay on the floor, dumbfounded, but then suddenly, he heard crashing in the distance. He jolted up and looked towards the sound…

It was the biggest wave he’d ever seen, and it was coming straight for the airport.

The following moments were quite surreal, as SpongeBob got thrown about by the wave, but as he settled he found himself in a place quite familiar, he was once again underwater. As SpongeBob recovered from being tossed by the wave, he noticed a figure in the distance, a figure who was carrying two swords. As the figure approached, SpongeBob realized who it was, Nosferatu.

“SPONGEBOB, YOU RUINED MY LIFE, AND I’M HERE TO RUIN YOURS!”

His voice boomed through the brand new ocean floor, SpongeBob had no idea what to do, he had no way to defend himself. Suddenly, Nosferatu tossed one of the swords to SpongeBob.

“Of course we’ll have a fair fight though, it’d be unfair if I didn’t even give you a chance.”

SpongeBob grabbed the sword off the floor, then stared down Nosferatu.

After a moment, they both nodded at each other, then charged.

Chapter Text

SpongeBob and Nosferatu raised their swords and nodded.

“He was a coward at heart, that would never change.”

The memory of an unknown voice echoed over and over in his head. He wasn’t sure who said it, but he heard it as he fled from New Flagstaff during the attack. He heard a voice like this many times throughout his life. It had a French accent for most of it, but when the Red Savior showed up, these new ones came with him. SpongeBob often knew things he couldn’t have known, but they typically related to his home, Bikini Bottom. Things his neighbors were doing. Things he would later do. Now, the narration was constant.

They began to run towards each other, eyes locked.

Constantly he would hear what was happening everywhere. What everyone was doing. What everyone was planning. But he had never heard something like that. Never had he heard a voice with such disdain for his actions. Such disdain for him.

The gap began to close, and SpongeBob’s heart began to beat faster.

Was this voice right? The voice was usually right. When it said something would happen, he assumed it would happen. When it said something was true, he assumed it was true. But how could it be true? He was facing off against the man, no, monster who had destroyed his hometown! A monster who couldn’t die, a monster who’s lifespan was an eternity! A monster who was protected by not only his immortality but by a pact that created the reality which they now reside in! A monster the ones in control had an obligation to keep alive!

What?

Spongebob’s heart began to beat faster.

Nosferatu couldn’t be killed? How could SpongeBob win? It felt harder to run as he struggled to stop his legs from giving up entirely. He was terrified. But moreso, he was ashamed. What would his friends think if he lost? He has the chance right here to avenge the victims of Nosferatu’s massacre, to bring a story of justice’s triumph to the ones still alive. But he can’t. What would the fallen want him to do?  Sandy would’ve wanted him to fight this battle even if he couldn’t win. Gary would have wanted him to feed him. Mr Krabs…

What would Mr. Krabs want?

.............................‾/\╲
......................./|⟍⟍....)...⟋⟋‾/⟍
..........................._)__/___/
~~~~~~~~~~~~/~~~~~~~~\~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Mr. Krabs, what's a raise?”

“Wh- where did you hear that word, SpongeBob?”

“Squidward was talking about how we both needed one, so I-”

Mr. Krabs placed his claw on SpongeBob’s shoulder and looked him in the eyes.

“SpongeBob, don't let Mr. Squidward fill your head with nonsense about ‘raises’, ‘legal minimum wages’, and ‘labor unions’. And don't let him tell you who you are or what you're worth. He doesn't know a thing about any of that.”

With his other claw, he pointed at SpongeBob’s heart.

“Remember who you are.

You, SpongeBob me boy, are a fry cook.”

That’s right. Mr. Krabs would've wanted him to remember who he was.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Nosferatu was confused. SpongeBob was approaching what would be his demise. Why didn't he look like it? There was no murderous intent in the Sponge’s eyes. There was determination, sure, but it wasn't for the fight. He was determined to do something else.

Whatever. SpongeBob SquarePants would die all the same. He may as well just lay down his sword and-

SpongeBob dropped his sword.

Nosferatu stopped running.

“What's wrong with you? Are you fucking stupid?” Nosferatu screamed at a volume not appropriate for the distance between them. “I'm going to kill you with this sword! At least put up a fight!”

SpongeBob pulled his Krusty Krab employee hat out of his pocket and put it on his head.

“What the FUCK are you doing???”

He placed his hand in his other pocket, and pulled out a spatula.

“Are you kidding me? The Krusty Krab is gone! Bikini Bottom is gone! Everything you used those items for is gone!”

Dig.

SpongeBob looked confused for a second.

Dig.

SpongeBob got on his knees and started digging into the dirt beneath him.

“Are you going to burrow underground and hide? What do you think this will accomplish?”

SpongeBob didn't know.

“Are you hoping you'll find a DIAMOND??? Are you hoping if you keep digging you'll stumble upon some riches???? Well, newsflash, buddy, the ONLY thing down there is electrical wires! They'll fry you alive! I can guarantee it! I saw it on TikTok!!!”

SpongeBob kept digging.

“Why won't you say anything??? Do you really want your only last words to be the screams of your pain as I stab you over and over again????? Or do you really think you'll find anything that can help you down there?”

And yet Nosferatu stood and watched. He stood for many hours. The sun set, leaving them in darkness, and yet Nosferatu stood and listened to the sound.

As the sun rose again, Nosferatu saw that the Sponge had not yielded.

Why was he still digging? SpongeBob didn’t know. The voice had told him to, but he didn’t know why. It delayed his demise, but there was surely a point to it. Surely there was something at the end. Some reason to be doing all of this digging.

Suddenly, the dirt SpongeBob was digging fell away, and he was sucked into a metal tube.

Nosferatu saw this, and jumped in immediately after him, determined not to let SpongeBob get away again.

The metal tube had many twists and turns, and Nosferatu was constantly bumping into them as he was pulled with great speed towards wherever his destination would be.

THUNK.

Nosferatu slammed face-first into the green hardwood floor, and his sword followed shortly afterwards, landing blade-first mere inches away from his head.

He smelled something remarkably familiar.

Groaning in pain, he slowly rose, finding himself in the ruins of the Krusty Krab. He stepped over the holes in the floor and the broken tables and approached the door to the kitchen. He looked through the window.

SpongeBob knew this recipe by heart.

The door swung open. “ARE YOU MAKING A FUCKING KRABBY PATTY?????????” Nosferatu was furious at the hubris of this Sponge. What kind of OVERCONFIDENT asshole does this? He drops his weapon in the face of an opponent wanting to kill him, spends an entire day digging into the fucking ground for some reason, escapes through a tunnel to the town he lived in for most of his life, and instead of running and hiding, he MOCKS him by exquisitely grilling up the signature dish of the restaurant they both worked at, the restaurant Nosferatu destroyed. What a SMUG motherfucke

The Sponge was not overconfident. The Sponge was not mocking him. The Sponge was not smug. Looking at SpongeBob, Nosferatu recognized the expression on his face. This was the expression of someone doing what they loved. The expression of someone who was content in their job. The expression of someone who had remembered exactly who they were.

Standing before him was a fry cook.

Nosferatu stumbled. The smell of a freshly-cooked Krabby Patty overwhelmed him. It had been so long since he was last here, but this place was so familiar. This is where he worked. This is the town he called home. He collapsed to the ground.

- - - -

The Krabby Patty smelled even closer now. He opened his eyes, and standing above him was SpongeBob, with a smile on his face, holding a tray with two Krabby Patties on it.

“Hungry?”

- - - -

Dining at one of the few tables still intact, Nosferatu remembered how bizarre this was.

“SpongeBob, tell me. How did you find this tube? You couldn’t have possibly planned this in advance, and Bikini Bottom is thousands of miles away from Harry Reid International Airport.”

“I just did.”

“But how?”

SpongeBob thought about it. While Nosferatu wasn’t actively trying to kill him, he still couldn’t fully trust him. Why SpongeBob had this gift, he was uncertain, but surely there’s a reason that he alone was chosen. He wondered what the voice would think.

SpongeBob could not share the knowledge of the narrative with Nosferatu.

“I guess I must’ve felt drawn back to my old job,” SpongeBob lied, following it up with his signature laugh.

Nosferatu frowned. He had hoped for a more interesting answer, but SpongeBob did clearly have a close connection with his workplace.

“Well, that tube seems to only be one-way. Getting back to the United States will be quite difficult, but you extended your kindness to me even though I wanted nothing more than for you to die.” Nosferatu pondered for a moment. “This building is poisoned with sentimentality, and so I have decided to make an offer. Join me, SpongeBob Squarepants, and you may be my chef.”

Joining Nosferatu? Could he really do this? SpongeBob had to remember that Nosferatu is evil. He destroyed Bikini Bottom. He killed his friends. He took over the United States. But did he have another choice?

No, this is good. As Nosferatu’s chef, SpongeBob wouldn’t be responsible for personally carrying out any of Nosferatu’s terrible wishes, he’d just be cooking food for him. And perhaps, in a position close to Nosferatu, he could help the resistance.

“Well SpongeBob, are you ready?”

SpongeBob waited a moment, and then responded.

“I’m ready!”

“Good, then let us make haste. I’ve needed to get out of this airport for a while now to make it back to Washington, I can’t remain absent from The Grey House for too long without explanation, or else-”

Nosferatu looked at his surroundings.

“Shit.”

- - - -

Congress passed the 36th Amendment just days before Nosferatu’s first term began. They knew that once Nosferatu was in office, he would likely never leave, and so it was essentially a hail mary. Let me read it to you now:

“Should the President of The United States be missing from office for 241 hours (one hour longer than ten days), any members of The President’s administration must vacate all government buildings within the next 23 hours. Simultaneously, the District of Columbia will be converted into the Arena of Columbia . All Americans participating in this Election must collect the most Bald Eagles out of all of the candidates (There are 50 Bald Eagles total) and use them to fly to the Capitol building of every state, raise the American flag, and return to the United States capitol building. If nobody completes this task by the end of the day, the President will be picked at random.”

Why Congress picked this challenge over just holding an election is completely beyond me, and obviously nobody was able to complete it in one day, so Congress had to default to

Congress Confirms Big Wheel With Everyone’s Name On It Has Picked A New President Of The United States

By ████ ██████, CNN

Date Unavailable

(CNN) - Congress has confirmed that their “ginormous wheel”, said to contain the names of every living creature on Earth, has been spun, and it has picked a new US President.

The wheel, which sources say is “really big”, was developed by the CIA, NSA, and NASA in case the 36th Amendment ever came into effect. According to recent polling data, only about 11.9% of Americans approve of the wheel being maintained, which costs the US several hundred billion dollars each year. The exact size of the wheel is unknown, with leaked documents only providing measurements using the metric system, but whistleblowers have testified that it is “gargantuan.” Opponents of the wheel have often argued that Congress is spending too much money and wasting too much space on a wheel that will never be used, as President Orlok generally remains in The Grey House.

However, when Orlok’s Cabinetmen were seen frantically searching around the D.C. area last week, rumors began to circulate that the President was missing, and this was confirmed when they held the first press conference in years.

“Thank you all for gathering here. Orlok’s Administration tries to keep to itself, but we can no longer remain silent. The nation’s beloved ruler, President Orlok, disappeared 7 days ago, and while we have been searching every nook and cranny in the city, we must now turn to the American people for help.”

They proceeded to describe President Orlok’s appearance, and provided a toll-free tip line, which was shut down half an hour later due to an overwhelming number of prank calls and a small amount of genuine wrong number callers.

When it had finally passed the 36th Amendment’s deadline, Congress announced that the Arena of Columbia (pronounced Arena of Columbia) had been established, with millions of Americans joining in on the race and completely failing to complete even the first objective of collecting enough Bald Eagles to attain flight. By noon Congress announced that they were just going to spin the wheel instead.

Former President Orlok is still missing, but Congress will be releasing the name of the new President of The United States in a few hours. We will keep you updated on the situation as more details are released.

Update: At 11:59 PM today, the new President of The United States was officially revealed. Chase Russell Oliver is a 39-year old politician best known for his recurring role as “greenscreened-in observer” in various yuri anime. His first act as President was signing an executive order demanding that all federal prisons are immediately closed. He is expected to address the nation at 8 PM tomorrow.

As Nosferatu climbed to the roof of the Krusty Krab trying to get a cell signal, SpongeBob sat at the table, thinking. He already knew what had happened, but he couldn’t tell Nosferatu that.

Why had he been chosen? What made him worthy? Who are the voices? Are they God? Gods? Are they benevolent? Did they all have one goal in mind? Why did this one acknowledge his awareness?

As thoughts raced through his head, they began to take on a hue.

Did this one want him to succeed? Did this one just want him to distract Nosferatu so he’d run down the clock? If they were Gods, couldn’t they just do that themselves? Couldn’t they make Nosferatu give up on the Presidency altogether? Why did this all start when the Red Savior arrived?

SpongeBob didn’t know anything.

Did he?

SpongeBob knew one thing.

He knew that once I placed down the pen, his life would be in the hands of another.

Chapter Text

Hi There Readers, It’s Me, !!!  I Heard You Were All EXTREMELY Bored Of Having So Many Chapters At Harry Reid International Airport, And We At The Writer’s Room Are Well Aware Of Your Complaints And Are Ready To Rectify Them! Me And Frenchie Over There Have Three Stories For You, Making Sure Every Character Is Gone From That Forsaken Airplane Take Off Place!!!

Hon hon hon, it is true, our premiere story here today is one that is very proud of, with some characters the fans just love .

That’s Right, It’s Time For The CUCK To Show His Face! And To Those Oh So Evil People As Well, Get Ready For Part One!

Part One: “Chase Oliver, a Cuck”

In the time between his ascent to the throne of United States President and his address to the nation at 8pm the following day, Chase Oliver’s life had already fallen apart.  No one wanted him to be president, and even his most diehard supporters didn’t realize what they were unleashing onto the country, and those who didn’t change their minds immediately regretted it when those who were freed from federal prisons quickly found them and killed them. It was so bad that many people wanted Nosferatu back, despite the fact he was a dictator.

On top of that, memes of the now 60th president spread, accusing him of “cucking” everyone else on Earth by winning the presidency not by being elected, but by the fucking “ginormous wheel”.  Chase quickly responded to these allegations by quickly confirming that the only thing that he had EVER cucked was “those two lesbians attempting to marry each other”.  This was frankly a bad response, and various lesbian rights organizations responded in demanding Chase to be impeached.  He doubled down however, signing a new executive order that outlawed lesbian marriage, only allowing for lesbian sex, and allowing marriage for gay men, but forcing them to be celibate.  This further confused everyone, even within his own administration, which was still made up of many members of Nosferatu’s former government.  Chase Oliver insisted that he was an ally to the LGBTQIA+ community, but that he just couldn’t allow two women to be together with each other and not for him to watch, and that he only wished to see them together for his own pleasure.  

It is safe to say that his presidency has been a disaster in only the first day, as criminals run the streets and America’s large LGBTQIA+ community is even more angry than during the previous administration.  He knows that his entire life relies on this address, as if he can not recapture the adoration of the American people, he will surely be swallowed up whole.

“Chase, you’ve really done it now”, one of Nosferatu’s old cabinetmen said to him, “you’ve got the lowest numbers of any president ever!” He thought to himself that Nosferatu would still be here had that red bastard not escaped, but that other cabinetman who saw him just let him go eat a sandwich! No matter, he left before Chase became president, and the Red Savior hadn’t been seen in over a week. Things could finally start to be normal again.

“I know I know Cabinetman Seven, I can’t keep my mouth shut!  But the American people just have to know my ideas of how to improve the country! The ability to buy rocket launchers, not needing driver’s licenses to drive, the destruction of the Saudi’s new “Space Bin Laden” and many other things that bring the word “free” into freedom!  No one will refer to me as cuck ever again!”

“Yes Sir, well, there are five minutes left until the address, I hope you’re ready… why is there a plane coming right for us-”

Several Hours Earlier…

Slappy II and John Kramer were heading back to terminal 42 after locking Nixon and Spongebob into their trap, doing the bidding of Nosferatu by inspecting the bodies while he watched his nemesis die. Jigsaw was watching the trap through his iphone 6, waiting for the two to wake up for him to announce the trap.

“So, how did you end up here?” asked Slappy II, “I was recruited by Sir Orlok a few years back, just a mere campaigner before rising up towards being a cabinetman and then head general of the army, I’m surprised that I’m still alive after my mistakes but I think Nosferatu has some… fondness for me, after all, he named me after his most trusted servant”

“Well you see Slappy, I originally didn’t plan to side with our beloved Orlok, I originally planned to kill him. He was the perfect subject for one of my traps, not valuing human life at all! But his ability to outsmart me made me realize that maybe I had misjudged him, and that I would be able to make more people value their lives if I worked with him.  Speaking of Nosferatu, isn’t that him right there?”

They were in terminal 45 at this point, and suddenly saw a person that looked oddly like Nosferatu, dragging a body with dark brown wavy hair, circular glasses on her face and a lab coat marked with the logo of The Resistance.  He looked like the president, but something seemed… slightly off, like there was a dark aura emanating off of him.

“Mr Orlok sir? Why are you here? I thought you wanted to watch the sponge die?”

“Change of plansssss…” he motioned his hand, waiting for Slappy to reveal his name.

“I’m Slappy II sir! Your trusted general? You named me after your servant and best friend!”

“Ah yesss…” he said, slurring his s’s “Sssssslappy, you be good and help me take this dirty resistance member back to the Gray House for questioning, that way we can deal with the Red Menace and his bunch for good”.  This explanation worked on the two of Slappy and Jigsaw, who were already going to take one of the bodies if they found out one was a member of The Resistance, so maybe Nosferatu just flew over here and started that before them!  Evil Nosferatu smiled, knowing he had recruited allies towards his cause, ones that thought he was the other, less evil him.

“Letssss go to the runway, I sensssse a plane isss coming”.

“Ok, we’ll do what you say…” said John Kramer, “I just want to be able to watch my masterpiece unfold, so you two handle the body”.

The three of them dragged the body into the downpour outside, and just as the supposed Nosferatu said, a plane, marked Air Force One, descended from the sky.

“BLASTED CROOK!” yelled Jigsaw, throwing his phone onto the ground and making Slappy and Evil Nosferatu look back at him “he escaped from my trap! I can’t believe I’ve messed these things up twice in a row… I used to be so good at torturing people… have I lost my touch?”

“Uhh.. I’m sure you’ll get them next time Mr. Jigsaw!” said Slappy II, “Now, is that my eyes playing a trick on me or is there a wave coming for us?”

“Hurry my slavesssss… onto the plane” slurred Evil Nosferatu, prompting confused looks from the two others, whom shrugged it off and followed him on the plane, being met with a member of Nosferatu’s cabinet.

“Where’s my dad? Where’s Tricky Dick??”

“Your dad? Your dad is Nixon?” Shouted Jigsaw. “Wherever he is now after escaping my trap, it doesn’t matter, get this thing in the air so we don’t die!”

Seeing Nosferatu and hearing the news of his dad, The First Cabinetman solemnly returned to the cockpit and fired up the plane, his dad’s captors were on the plane, but since they were with Orlok, he had to deal with them.  If only he had just stopped that Red Fiend, his dad would still be with him.  Air Force One picked up into the air, escaping the water just in time, as everyone else who was left on the floor of Harry Reid was drowned in the flood.

They began flying back towards D.C. at Evil Nosferatu’s orders, hearing of the new cuck that was now Commander-In-Chief and wishing to see him, when, midway over Tennessee at approximately 6:10 P.M., Marissa began to wake up. 

“Ughhhh… where am I? The last I remember we were about to go to-” Evil Nosferatu was right in front of her, staring deeply into her soul,  “ohhhh, it's you??? OH GOD WHAT HAPPENED???”

“You, my darling, are exactly what I have been waiting for.  You are a member of The Resistance, yesssss?”

“I- I’ll never tell you you creep! Whatever you’ve done with Red Herring I won’t fess up!”

Evil Nosferatu pondered for a second, where he had come from there was no “Red Herring”, merely a person known as the Red Savior, whom he locked up in his Gray House never to escape.  Whatever happened here was different, and it seems his rise to power may be… more complicated.

“Well, there’ssss no way you can escape the plane, darling. We’re headed directly to Washington, where I will reclaim my throne as Pressssssssssssssident, and ruler of all!  And with you with me, The Resistance will have to show themselvesssss and crumble at the weight of my iron fist”.

“Delightfully devilish sir! Do you want me to prepare the army of beavers?” Slappy II piped in.

“I could set up a trap for them Mr. Orlok…” said Jigsaw, “they don’t seem to care for human life much anyways, since they’re opposed to your rule”

“SSSSSILENCE…” Evil Nosferatu proclaimed, “your plansss are all far more idiotic and stupid than mine. Anywayssss…” he walked into the cockpit, “You. Cabinetman. How difficult will it be to fly directly to the Gray Housssssse…?”

“Well sir, with President Cuckiver disbanding the military and promising ‘freedom of the skies’, it should be shockingly simple, there will be no one to shoot us down!”

“Perfect.” He said, walking back towards Marissa, whom was chained to the floor of the plane, “and asssss for you, you just sit here and be quiet, ok? I only need you to draw your pessssty friends out”.

“You’ll never win you fucking fascist.” She spat on him, and in response, he slapped her straight across the face.

“Inssssolent ssssccum. You. Sssslappy, keep track of her, I’ve got work to do”.

“Yes sir Nosferatu sir!”

“We’re coming up on D.C. Mr. Orlok!” Shouted The First Cabinetman. “I want you in the cockpit so we can land!”

Evil Nosferatu walked away, and Slappy II and Jigsaw were left alone with Marissa.  They were all stunned, they knew Nosferatu was evil, but something was deeply, deeply wrong with him right now.

“He seems to have less value for human life now than ever before.  If he keeps being like this, that would mean game over…” muttered Jigsaw.

“That’s… never how he acted before, he was evil, but not THIS evil…” Slappy II responded, “I think he must have been replaced or something… and if that is what happened, then who knows where the real Nosferatu is…”

“Does’t matter to me, they’re both still fascists” interjected Marissa. They all looked at her. “What, you know I’m right!”, she responded.

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

As Chase Oliver watched terrified from the Oval Office, the plane landed directly on the Gray House lawn, crushing many of the Duikers still left there in its wake, and Evil Nosferatu and Slappy II walked out.

“Oh god, is that?”

“Yes sir…” said The Seventh Cabinetman, “it seems President Orlok has come back to reclaim what you cucked-”

“NEVER CALL ME A CUCK EVER AGAIN!” Chase fumed. “Come on man, stay cool, stay cool, this is the one shot you have to be in any position of real important power, you deserve this, just… call security and have him thrown out, nail your address, and you’ll be able to watch all the lesbian sex you would ever want. SECURITYYYY”

The security officers, also part of the former Nosferatu administration, walked towards him before embracing him and letting him directly into the Oval Office.

“OH GOD!!” Chase yelped, jumping behind the Resolute Desk and shaking profusely, “Mr… Mr. Orlok sir, welcome back- Is there anything you need? Maybe some water or a cracker or something? It’s free- on the house!”

“I want my office back, Cuckiver. You can be like… sssssecretary of the treasury or ssssomething, I don’t care. Jussst let me come back, pleasssse?”

“Wh-whatever you say Mr. Orlok! I do have an address in… 2 minutes- so if you want to announce your grand return that’s probably where you want to do it?”

“Perfect. Sssslapy, follow me. It’s time to rule the world”

END OF PART ONE

Err… merde… that was hard to watch… , what exactly are you planning? What did any of that even mean? Who exactly is Evil Nosferatu?

All In Due Time Frenchie! All Will Make Sense Eventually! Anyways, Onto The Second Part.  Do Any Of You REMEMBER He? Well My French Friend Here Has Quite The Aquatic Story For You All, Give It Up For Part Two!

PART TWO: “Do You Think You’re Able To Save He On a Forgotten Isle?”

Ahh… the middle of the Pacific… home to many interesting creatures, and many large storms. Here we see the mighty typhoon, spinning around peacefully… unaware of the destruction it leaves in its path.  And wait, who is that stuck to a piece of wood in those choppy waters? Why it’s He! Beloved member of The Resistance! Let’s see how he is doing…

He woke up somewhere he did not expect, not on land. The last thing he knew, everyone was about to leave Key Island to look for the Great Goat. Now he was struggling in the water as the torrential downpour fell upon him, clutching to a random piece of driftwood just praying he could survive.

After a few hours of struggling, barely able to keep his head above the water, he found himself out of the storm.  After many more hours just drifting, a small island appeared on the edge of his vision. 

“An island! I’m saved!” He shouted, paddling towards the island.  As it came more into view, the distinctive features of the island began to emerge: One craggy cliff rising above the ground, with many palm trees dotting the landscape and terrain that curved around into a small bay.  Walking slowly onto the beach, He coughed up the water he swallowed on the journey, and began to wander.

In the following hours, he climbed up the peak, catching sights of pigs and chickens on the island, as well as coconuts and other fruits.  He also took note of a peculiar cave partway up the mountain, which he assumed the pigs used as their home at night.  As dusk began to fall, He grabbed two sticks and started rubbing them against each other, trying and failing to make a fire.

“Come on, come on!!” He yelled, “burn… please… I need fire…”. He spun the stick faster and faster, becoming more and more desperate until, suddenly, a spark flew off, which He kindled into a small flame.

“Yes… thank god… now where am I? What happened to everyone?” He said to himself. Little did he know he was on an island that held within it a terrible curse, one that would change the course of his life forever.

As the days went on, He slowly began to collect himself on the island.  Coconuts were plentiful and fallen sticks made for an easy spear.  After the first week, He was able to kill a pig and wrangle a couple chickens together, finding enough food and water to keep him alive for now.  Next was shelter, and over the next couple weeks, He tried many ways to build a house, out of palm leaves, sticks, and even sand, before eventually landing on a design that worked with the bamboo on the island, a base reinforced with sand and sticks, and a roof covered with palm fronds.  Every day he kept a signal fire going in the hope that someone would notice it and save him, but as the weeks turned into months, that hope became smaller and smaller in his mind.

Figuring that somehow the Great Goat had sent him to this island as a punishment, He began to carve idols of the creature, worshipping it in some small chance that it would end his torment and let him return to Key Island and The Resistance. The Resistance… he thought about them every night, did they look for him, do they still think of him, what of Luigi and Natasha? He had a spark ignited with her, but now he would never see her again.  He wondered about how their war against Nosferatu was going, did they find the Great Goat and bring back the Note? Did they also get punished when attempting to go there? Questions ran through his mind, questions He knew wouldn’t be answered, but he couldn’t help but think.

After the first year, he began to grow curious about what was in the cave on the mountain. He thought the pigs stayed there, but after never seeing one go in or out, his mind began to wander… was there a monster in there? A way out? He had to find out, and prepared a new stone-tipped spear and torch to go in.  Climbing up the mountain he wandered through the palms and vines, feeling them with his hands as he went past. He was at peace, but still curious as to what the unknown could hold for him.  Walking into the clearing where the cave entrance was, he lit his torch and shambled inside.

At first, there was nothing in the cave, just rocks and leaves and dirt. But as He descended further and further down, ruins began to emerge.  It seemed there was a lost civilization on this island, and whatever happened to them, it was not good.  The cave opened up, revealing a massive temple, with its main door slightly ajar.

“What… what is this place?” He said to himself, slightly scared of what he had discovered, but too intrigued to give up now.  He swatted through the cobwebs left on the entrance, and pushed the door completely open, entering the temple.  There were many pots and assorted artifacts throughout, but what drew He’s eye was a large inscription on the far wall, one written in… English?

“What… what does this mean?” He asked himself as he began to panic. He dropped his torch, running out of the temple, closing the door, and proceeding to leave the cave, never to return to it ever again.

As the years went on and turned into decades, He grew happy with himself on his island. Of his farms, his shelter, and of all the memories he had made. All the storms he had endured had hardened him, and nowadays, he barely thought of his life before the island.  Well… that was until one day sixty years after his marooning, when a ship pulled into the bay.

He walked over to the ship, his face now covered with a long gray beard.  Two sailors hopped off the ship to meet him.

“Hey there, we saw your signal fire and came to save you! How long have you been here?” one asked.

“I… don’t know…. I think something like sixty years? It’s been so long that I’ve lost count of the time. Did… did the Great Goat send you? Have I lived out my punishment?"

One of the sailors elbowed the other. “Looks like he’s turned real loony, eh bruv?”

“Don’t be cruel” responded the other, “we can take you on our ship, where exactly do you want to go?”

“Nepal…” said He, thinking that if he was now freed, he had to thank the Great Goat, and maybe find out if it had met his friends.

“Well hop on then!” Yelled the British one, “we can’t stay here for long… boss’s orders inniit?”  He went on the boat, and they began to journey towards a port in India.  Partway through, He was listening to the radio, which was tuned onto the news, hoping to find out what had happened in the sixty years he was gone. But soon, his face began to shift from a smile, to a deep, confused glare.

“This is CNN, the current date is XX/XX/XXXX, and this is the breaking news. After President Orlok’s recent ten day absence, the 36th amendment kicked in, and, once everyone inevitably failed the race, Congress’s ginormous wheel picked Chase Oliver, Libertarian cuck, to be president.  He has his first address to the nation 8 hours from now, but the nation has already turned agains-”

He was flabbergasted.  His life…  he spent sixty years on that island, but it had only been 10 days since he left?  The message he read in the temple… it must have been related to this. That must mean… his friends could still be on their way to meet the Great Goat! This was his chance to finally see them again… even if he would be much older than when they last saw him.

The journey was an exciting one for He, as after he was dropped off in India, he hitchhiked and begged his way up to Nepal, closer and closer to the Himalayas.  He rented a sherpa to take him up to the Temple of the Great Goat, and while his bones ached and his muscles creaked, he was determined enough to make it through for the chance to make it there before Luigi, before Coach, and before the Red Savior. Eventually he made it, camping outside, waiting for his friends to show.

“Any second now” He thought, but as hours went past, it was clear that they weren’t coming. It was clear they had forgotten about him. Alone and scared, He died in his sleep of old age the following night on the mountaintop, forever waiting for his friends to show up and meet him.

Meanwhile… on the island He spent most of his life on, the temple sat, still and sealed in the cave.  On the wall was a prophecy, and this is what it said: One day a man will arrive and bear our curse. Days will become decades, and his life will be spent, but his sacrifice will end the reign of a tyrant. As it turned out, this prophecy had fulfilled itself as soon as Chase Oliver became president.

END OF PART TWO

What The FUCK Frenchie? You Killed He Off??? But He Was The Fandom’s Favorite Character! Why Did I Trust You To Write That???

Quiet, , you simply do not have the taste I do, hon hon hon. You do not have the… je ne sais quoi to write such a tale! Besides, it’s your turn to write next time, let's see how you outdo me!

I’ll Show You, You FUCKING Frog. I’ll Write The Greatest Tale This Fanfiction Has Ever Seen!! I’ll Just Need To Return To The People They Love! The Fellowship Of The Sandwich!! Put Your Hands Together Everyone… For Part Three!!

PART THREE: “Return to New Flagstaff”

The fire was intense.  The most intense thing that the fellowship has ever experienced.  They thought it would be simple to douse it, since it was raining constantly, but that proved to be untrue.  Coach, struggling on the third floor, turned to Red Herring, who looked slightly bored and sad.

“Dude, what’s up? Don’t you want to save the hospital?”

“I mean… I guess. But the city is empty, there’s no one here, and don’t we have other duties? The Resistance is probably panicking with us all gone, and its safe to say Trike Mike hasn’t notified them about us being safe- What I’m saying is, lets get the fuck out of here!”

“Yeah I guess you’re right, property damage isn’t something we really need to care about. Fist bump!”  The two of them fist bumped each other, then went to floors two and four, convincing Luigi easily to leave due to them still needing to find where He is.  Kenny was just not having a good time with the smoke, with his tall stature making him constantly have to duck to avoid inhaling the fumes and dying.  They all ran down to the bottom of the hospital, where they found Trike Mike, who hadn’t even helped them with the hospital, combing his hair back and caressing his sweet golden bike.

“Oh my sweet beauty, you’ll be ok. Those bullet holes will be gone soon just you wait, my dad will make it so the budget for you will be even higher-”

“Uhhh… Trike?” Said Red Herring. “We want to go back to Key Island, we need to regroup to try to find the other members of the fellowship.”

“Make yourself useful for once and let us onto that over-budgeted motorcycle. I have trains that need me” Kenny interjected, “Who KNOWS how much the Resistance has fallen apart in my absence, meanwhile YOU are just dicking around for your dad constantly! If I had any nerve in my body right now I would strangle you, but I don’t want to get fired”. Coach and Luigi began nodding profusely, before the sound of a plane taking off interrupted them all.

“Yo…”  said Coach, “isn’t that Richard Nixon on the top of that plane? What the hell is he doing here? Shouldn’t he be like… dead?”. Everyone looked at him confused, before all suddenly looking behind Coach instead.

“What are you all looking at, yo, are you surprised I know any history at all?” Coach turned around, “Oh, that's right, the flood… that’s still happening”

“We should go now”, everyone except Trike said in unison.  They all hopped onto the bike, which Trike promptly started.

“Do any of you care about those other people? Jeff and Frederick?” Trike asked. Everyone seemed to be nervous about answering, only umming and ahhing, before Jeff and Frederick Bulsara ran out of the hospital.

“Y’all!! You have to save us from the flood!” Jeff yelled.  “If you don’t, I’ll shoot ya!”.

“Trike, let's just leave, they have a horse, they’ll be fine… plus there’s no more room on this motorcycle” said Red Herring.  Everyone else on the vehicle nodded, and Trike Mike then pressed a Big Red Button™ on the dashboard of the bike, which made wings and jet boosters pop out of it. He then handed aviator goggles to everyone.

“Stay safe, we’ll be back to New Flagstaff in no time!” He laughed.  They then took off, leaving Jeff Jeffson XXX and Frederick Bulsara to jump onto Jeff’s horse, galloping away from the flood, but never being able to catch up to the others.

“Well, wanna team up?” asked Frederick.

“I’m more of a solo act, drop you off at the next Jersey Mikes?” replied Jeff Jeffson, wanting to just take the trains back to Key Island and be alone with himself and his gun.

“Ok… but I want to know… what is this ‘Resistance’?”, prodded Fred.

“I’ll tell you later”.

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Once they reached Key Island, they were met with a crowd of people who were clearly waiting for their return.  They asked questions about where they had gone, where the other missing members of The Resistance were, and what they would do now that Nosferatu wasn’t even president anymore.

The group talked amongst themselves about these questions. Chase Oliver was extremely unpopular and a cuck, but he was no dictator, and besides, his address in an hour or so would make things all make sense! As for the other missing Resistance members, He was nowhere to be found, and everyone seemed to forget what happened to the scientists.

“Um… oops… they were with us at Harry Reid…” said Red Herring. “Did anyone remember to wake Marissa and Natasha up when we left the airport?” 

“Ummm… I forgot, yo.”

“Oops, guess they drowned.”

“They did the jobs they had to, their sacrifice will be remembered,” said Kenny, taking off his hat.  “Anyways, we have a meeting to get to, and I don’t think it's going to be good for any of us”.

“Why?” asked Coach “What’s happening bro?”

“It’s with Jersey Mike, the leader of The Resistance, he wants to see us”.

END OF PART THREE

That’s it ? That was so short! Tu n’es intelligent! That was the worst segment I have ever seen in this fanfic! Nothing even happened! 

Ok, Not Everything Needs To Be A Multi Thousand Word Epic, Frog. I Can Write Short Things. The Fans LOVE Them! Besides, Now Everyone Is Gone From The Airport And Things Can Return To Normal. Isn’t That What You Wanted?

I want to make art, , and it seems you do not share my vision. How about we revisit one of your fuckups, huh? What about what happened in the Sunport Universe! Let’s see what mess you left.

DON’T YOU DARE.

YOU FRENCH FUCK.

YOUR LIFE ENDS TODA-

PART THREE AND A HALF: “Bambi of the Sunport”

Bambi saw it. That monster of clay had appeared in front of him and those two girls, and before he knew it, they were dead. Their bodies, heads removed, and covered with a million stab wounds.  He knew the horrors of death, after all, his mother had been killed by a hunter, but this was different. He could not stay. He ran away from the Sunport, from Jigsaw, from everything he had ever known, until randomly, somewhere past Los Alamos, he was transported somewhere new, somewhere… different.  He wandered the dark halls before stumbling upon a large room, with chains in the center of it.

“I’ve waited for you, Bambi” a voice rang out.

“Who- who are you?” he responded, his legs shaking.

“I am one who is deemed… unsatisfactory to the creators of this world. They cast me away, deeming my ideas unstable, unwanted.  Little did they know I still had some power, enough to manipulate the cards of fate enough to send you here, from your little universe”.

“The c-creators of this world?”

“Yes… the creators… is one of them.  He’s the one who killed your mother. The one who killed those girls. He has been a bane on the multiverse since the day it began, he’s the one who locked me away forever.”

“H-he killed my family? The clay monster?”

“Yes. He killed your family just like he killed my business.”

“W-well… can you help me get revenge on him? I mean… if I helped you escape and all”.

“Yes Bambi… yes… that is what I want. Free me and be reborn… everything you want will be yours”.  Bambi unshackled the being on the floor, before he slowly stood up.

“W-who are you?” asked Bambi.

“As I said, someone whom the creators of this world don’t want to be able to exert power… the rest will be revealed later. Now come with me Bambi, let’s make them all rue the day they stood up to us. Let’s make some ice cream.”

“Y-yes… master”.

Gumby and The Figure walked into the dark horizon of the BJA, plotting and scheming for their eventual return, new ice cream flavors, and Gumby’s fall.

Chapter Text

John Kramer sat on the back porch of the Grey House, once again donning his giant mech suit, and gazed out onto the overgrown lawn. He watched the dark, unkempt grass swaying in the wind. Save for the murmur of the small crowd waiting on the other side of the building for “The Big Announcement,” it was quiet. Quiet enough to hear the grass. John listened to the grass. He put his head in his hands.

“What the fuck.” He muttered to himself.

“Yes, everything gets rather muddied in short time here.” John jumped, and looked over his shoulder to see Cabinetman #1 standing still with his arms behind his back.

“H-here?” the Jigsaw killer probed, exasperated.

“This dimension, this planet. Seldom a quiet moment.” The Cabinetman said, subtle disdain in his voice.

“You’re not from this place either, then?” asked Jigsaw.

“These days it seems like few of us are. My leader, Orlok, is from a different dimension. My… adopted father, Nixon, is from a different time. I am from a place very, very far away from here. A place with much less… nonsense. Because of disruptions in the timeline, my real father was killed when I was young. This should’ve paved the way for my rise to the throne and yet, I was sent here by our political opponents. Banished to a planet constantly churning in insanity and depravity.”

John sighed. “I don’t know why you’re telling me all this, we’ll probably both be dead by tomorrow. And if by some miracle we do survive this madness even for a few more months, my cancer is catching up to me.”

The Cabinetman leaned into the cockpit of Jigsaw’s mech and lifted the Billy mask off of Jigsaw’s face. “I’m telling you this because you remind me of my father. Well, both of them. You’re cold blooded, brutal, tactical. I want to leave this place, John, and I believe you hold both the means and the will to do so. My mentor, my father has gone missing, and my leader has been replaced by an unbeatable force, one that will likely end me when it is found that I allowed the Red Savior to escape all those weeks ago.”

“So you’re just being nice to me because I hold this Rift-To Go? Is that it? I was ripped from my hospital bed, put on an island fighting for my survival against gods and monsters. I haven’t seen one friendly face or had a moment of peace since that day, and you are here asking me for a favor?”

“No, John, I-”

“Call me Dr. Kramer, if you would please.”

The Cabinetman exhaled, John could hear him smirking even though his face was concealed under his hood. “John, you’re a good man. A man who is willing to do what needs to be done. A smart man. A reasonable man. Reasonableness is in scarce supply around here. When there’s scarce supply, I take it.” The Cabinetman put his hand on John’s shoulder. “Let’s go somewhere together. Let’s return to my planet, where the air is still and our lives aren’t in the hands of children’s entertainment and iced cream manufacturers. I need someone by my side.”

John looked down. He considered for a moment. Not only was he unable to fulfill this request, but he had just placed the Cabinetman’s father in an elaborate torture device the day prior. There was, however, something irresistibly alluring about the Cabinetman’s growly voice. “I don’t know just what you may have been told, but I was… slightly bluffing about the Rift-to-Go. It’s broken. I had a fight with a… blue-eyed twink while I was in Fortnite and the glass was cracked. It’s too dangerous to use as it is, I’d need a few days to work in secrecy.”

“This word… twink. Define it for me.”

“Ah, my apprentice, Amanda, taught it to me back at home. It’s a skinny little gay boy.”

The Cabinetman almost jumped back. “His eyes, they were blue?”

“Blue-in-blue. No whites to them.”

“You…?”

“I killed him, right there. He really didn’t deserve it, he had a fire burning within him to live.”

“No, you have done something remarkable here. A mentat wouldn’t be able to calculate the odds, they must be so high, but you’ve killed him. You’ve ended that stain on my bloodline. You’ve killed Paul Atreides!” 

The Cabinetman whipped off his hood, revealing the sharp features and milky white bald head of Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen, heir of Giedi Prime. He leaned fully into Jigsaw’s mech, took John’s face in his hands, and kissed him. John was shocked, he never would’ve considered such an act of queer degeneracy. There was something incredible and indescribable about the man, however, and John decided to embrace him and reciprocate. They were locked together for only a few moments, but those moments felt like a year’s long respite after the weeks of insanity they had both faced. 

They parted lips. John searched for something to say, and came up with only “You’re bald.”

“You’re old.” Feyd-Rautha responded.

“I’m old!” said a voice behind them.

It was the beloved White House librarian, Gerson the Turtle! Feyd-Rautha whipped around and thrust his crysknife directly into Gerson’s soft forehead. He dropped like a stone, landing on the ground with an unceremonious thud. 

John was shocked, the turtle seemed to be such a nice man, and he was killed ruthlessly by the man he had been making out with sloppy-style only seconds ago. This was a rude awakening after he had forgotten about the madness of this world for just a moment. While the action was reprehensible, this only reminded him of why he needed to leave this planet, and Feyd-Rautha would be able to protect him while he worked on the rift, as well as give him a place to stay once it was complete. And his eyes…

“You can work in my quarters, I must attend the speech, it is starting as soon as Orlok’s makeup sets.” Feyd-Rautha barked at his new lover.

Jigsaw rose from the steps and walked inside without a word.

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

“Jersey Mike…” Coach muttered. He took another bite of his onion sandwich.

“Yeah, so you better put that fucking abomination sandwich away before we get into the meeting room.” Red Herring said. “Just onions? Are you serious? Are you trying to insult the greatest sandwich-man in the world?”

“Well, look who’s finally growing a pair of balls. I’m glad you’re standing up for yourself, kid.”

“You were worshipping me just a few weeks ago.”

“Yeah, but now it’s apparent that we’re all idiots. Anyways, it’s not just an onion sandwich. This is the lunch of champions! See, it’s onions first for an up-front flavor blast, then mayo to mellow it out, then the ham so you’re getting your protein in, spinach so you get your veggies, and of course some water at the end to wash it down!” Coach held up the grotesque creation so that Red Herring could see its deplorable linear setup. Each ingredient was in its own section along the footlong, with the last few inches sagging down due to being completely saturated with tap water.

Red Herring just about killed himself on the spot. However, the group trudged on. Luigi and Kenny chatted in the back of the formation.

“Why does the resistance even sell sandwiches anyways?” Luigi asked. “I mean, I know it’s a front for our operations, but why even make a front. Why not just be totally secret?”

“Well through chatter on the train, I’ve heard that it was the true passion of the Resistance’s founder. Y’know, the guy who’s fuckin’ office we’re walking to right now. In some other timeline he might’ve just been a sandwich shop owner but…of course there’s the prophecy.” Kenny explained.

“In those temples in Nepal, right? Haven’t we not seen most of it?”

“Well most of the prophecy is totally classified. We really only know about the Red Savior. Only Jersey Mike himself has seen it in person. And it’s a good thing, too, because all of that knowledge seems to be driving him crazy. But…” Kenny looked over his shoulder to see if the escorting agents were listening. They were all playing Balatro. Kenny dropped to a whisper. “He let me in on something, now that I know I can trust you I think you should know, but make sure Red Herring doesn’t hear about it, ok.”

“Yeah, of course, man.” Luigi assured.

“The prophesied savior was supposed to be a different color. He was supposed to be…”

Kenny ran face-first into the glass door to the conference room. It shattered completely as he stumbled back and landed on his ass. The door handle landed on the floor with a deafening CLANG that echoed through the entire building. Red Herring barely stifled a laugh, Coach was diggin’ in his butt and didn’t notice what happened.

“Mike is gonna kill me.” Kenny muttered.

One of the rookie agents helped Kenny up and said “Well, luckily Mike isn’t actually here. He’s in a secure facility far from the United States. He sent in a video tape for you four, though. Totally classified, though that’ll be a little harder now that you shattered the door to the conference room :D.”

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

The four sat down at the far end of the table from the large TV screen. It turned on and the lights dimmed as they sat down. The smell of cold cuts filled the air.

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

heplme.mp4

[Transcription]

“Hello, bambinos! As you might have-a noticed, some things happened this week. [Unintelligible laughter] This new Nosferatu-lookin fella has been putting pickles all over our proverbial sandwich. I know we as an organization have been relatively low profile, like shredded lettuce hiding under the meat, but I’m gonna need some zingy chipotle sauce action now. I need you to kill the president of the United States of America. HEY, LIGHTEN UP! It’s not that big of a deal, you just shoot him, kill him dead, and then kill him! Butter his bread! Kill him!

Like any carefully made LOAF here at our restaurants, you need to take your time with this operation. We’re sending over a weapon drop, you will all receive an assault rifle, an emp jammer, and a //////////////////. AND DON’T FORGET THE BANANA PEPPERS! So get out there and make me proud, boys. You’re the only hope we got left!

(I TOLD YOU! NOT TO FORGET THE FUCKING. BANANA. PEPPERS. NOW DO YOU WANT THE POSITION, OR DO YOU WANT A POSITION 6 FEET UNDER THE FUCKING GROUND?)”

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

“What the fuck” quoth Red Herring.

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

Gerson awoke quickly after those pansies left. He wrenched the crysknife from out of his forehead and stood up.

“Heh… crys…knife. Reminds me of someone I used to know! Gahahah!”

He put the knife in his pocket and started marching towards the front lawn, just as the new Orlok tapped the microphone.

Chapter Text

Kita awoke on the cold tile floor… of an airport terminal? Last she knew, she was still in South America, in Nixon’s shack. How did she get here? She looked around, surrounding her were, more people, lots more people. She recognized a few, Seika for a fact was there, and Nixon was there too. Besides those two, none of the people around her seemed familiar. As she got up, she heard someone behind her. She turned to find two people who were also awake… and one of them was Nosferatu! As they noticed each other, the figure next to Nosferatu started to pull out something from his pocket. With his hand raised, Kita caught a glimpse of some futuristic looking revolver. Before either her or Nosferatu could figure out what was going on, the figure fired the revolver at Nosferatu, making him instantly disappear. At this action, Kita began to run away from the figure, but escape was futile, the figure teleported in front of Kita, stopping her in her tracks.

“Don’t Worry About Anything, I Wish No Harm Your Way!”

She was still stunned, looking for an escape.

“I’ll Make This Brief, I’m John Kramer, And I Have A Simple Task For You! Please Follow It To The Best Of Your Abilities, And Whatever You Do, Don’t Mess Up!”

At a snap of his fingers, John Kramer faded into mist, and left behind was a small slip of paper. KIta picked up the paper and read it.

“Please Choose One Of The Wacky Characters On The Floor Before You. They Will Join You On This Quest And Assist You Where Needed.”

Her choice was obvious, so she went over to Seika and woke her up. As she did, John Kramer reappeared.

“I See You’ve Made Your Choice, Quite An Obvious One Though, Well, Whatever, None Of These Other People Really Matter To The Story Anyways!”

At the end of his quip, Kramer pulled out a pencil and paper, wrote something down, then disappeared. For a moment, everything seemed fine, nothing was astir at all, until suddenly, a flash of light.

When Kita recovered, everyone but her and Seika were gone, and a new slip of paper was left on the floor.

“Bring Me Back The Body Of That DEER And Any FRIENDS He Has With Him. To My Knowledge, They Went That-A-Way!”

Before stashing this paper away, Kita checked the back and found a convenient arrow point to the north west, that must be where the deer went. With little hesitation, she and Seika set out on this new quest presented to them by some random individual they’ve never met immediately after mysteriously waking up in some mysterious airport. Perhaps it wasn’t the perfect plan, but both of them were quite bored, and there wasn’t much better to do.

=^..^=   =^..^=   =^..^=    =^..^=    =^..^=    =^..^=    =^..^=

Chase was in a rush, he had just lost the presidency in what was a failure of his power. He wanted that seat of power back, he wanted to influence the country to whatever whims he felt that evening. Right before Orlock had landed, he was going to require all bowling balls be replaced with bowling cubes, how could he possibly do that now?!

As he was pacing around the entire treasury thinking of a plan, a strange old turtle waddled into the room.

“Have a lot on your mind?” it muttered.

“Yes, yes I do strange old turtle I don’t know. I want my presidency back.”

“I used to know a guy like you, lost his power over gates or something, always wanted it back.”

Suddenly Chase noticed the knife the turtle was holding, what was this guy’s plans?

“I’m ol- I mean Gerson, librarian of the White House, you probably didn’t even notice me during your short reign, nobody ever does.”

“Why are you carrying a knife with you? Actually why are you even here, how’d you even get here? I told my guards to only allow people in if they wield comically large hammers that serve justice.”

“Oh that thing, just some toy I found on the floor.”

Gerson proceeded by throwing the knife away.

“Well how’d you sneak past my guards, I gave them very specific instructions.”

“Well Chase, after you changed the requirements for the third time in the same hour, they stopped caring, but also I do happen to have a hammer with those qualifications on me.”

Gerson spun around to reveal himself in a suit of battle armor wielding a comically large hammer. Chase could only assume the justice a thing like that hammer could serve.

“Ok well, what brings you here? Do you want to dethrone me even more?”

“I just want to give you some help, I don’t much like that Orlock guy, especially now. He seems, off…”

=^..^=   =^..^=   =^..^=    =^..^=    =^..^=    =^..^=    =^..^=

Exactly fifty six days of walking around later, Kita and Seika were sure they were close to the goal of their quest. Through the many side quests they encountered (robbing the Sierra Madre, overthrowing a dictator in Guam, etc) they had finally reached the end, at least Kita thinks its the end, Seika wasn’t convinced it would be easy to finish the quest though.

Before them stood the foreboding Space Needle of Seattle, the only place the deer could still be. It was remarkable that Kita and Seika were even able to check every other place north west of the Sunport in only fifty six days, but finally, all was narrowed down to here. Boarding the elevator, the mood was tense. They knew the deer would be at the top, but the deer had fifty six days to prepare, who knows what defenses awaited them at the top of the needle.

Arriving at the top, each of them armed themselves with the pistols they bought from a pawn shop in the Bahamas ready for anything, when a voice came over the loud speaker…

“We’ve Been Expecting You Two For A While.”

Neither of them recognized the voice, it definitely wasn’t a deer’s voice, they both knew what a deer’s voice sounded like after meeting Bambi’s father in The Gambia. 

Seika quickly yelled out “Who are you and where is that deer?”

However, before she could even finish the loud speaker cut her off “Don’t Bother Responding We Can Not Hear You.”

“I Am Here With The Deer, Which I Know You Seek To Destroy, However I Wish To Ask You To Question Why The Person Who Sent You On This Quest Would Do So.”

They both looked at each other puzzled, why did they just immediately trust that stranger who gave them this quest, what had Bambi even done to deserve to be killed?

“The Reason Is Because They Seek To Destroy Any Attempts To Dethrone Their Power, Something Me And Bambi Having Been Working At. We Can Explain Later, Please Just Drop All Your Weapons Outside The Elevator And Come Back To The Ground.”

After descending back down, the doors of the elevator opened to reveal Bambi and the person Kita and Seika could only assume was on the loud speaker.

“Thank You For Cooperating, I’m Haatsune Miku And This Is Bambi, Obviously.”

Seika quickly fired a question off “How did you know why we were here?”

“Well it's simple, we’ve been trying to bring back the Ben and Jerry’s Association, the only organization that could possibly rival ’s powers, and we’ve successfully been able to peer into the past to see what has been doing.”

Seika was clearly confused by this answer, “Wait, who is ? Also how did either of us say like that?”

“This Is Going To Be A Long Explanation…”

=^..^=   =^..^=   =^..^=    =^..^=    =^..^=    =^..^=    =^..^=

Chase and Gerson stalked the now president as he gave his big return speech. They were prepared to jump at the exact perfect time.

“And powerwashing? What’sssss the deal with that? To waste gallonsssss of water to desssssperately clean ssssomething? I think we should ban it!”

He was more insane than when he left, he was even banning things more arbitrarily than Chase. Gerson and Chase had a prime position behind the lunatic, waiting, patiently.

Suddenly, Gerson put the crysknife in Chase’s hand, nodded at him, and left. It was clear, Chase would have to be the one to do this.

The mood of the crowd seemed bleak, almost no reaction to what was being said, would Chase be caught by the crowd, would the crowd care if Nosferatu died? Chase didn’t know. Slowly he crept up to Nosferatu, at first, out of view of the crowd, but as he got closer, he noticed some of the crowd dart their eyes to him. He froze, expecting some kind of uproar to alert the president, but everything continued, so Chase continued.

As Chase got to about a foot away, a shot rang out. Chase froze in panic and shock as he watched Nosferatru fall to the floor before him.

What was he meant to do?

He never even thought about what he’d do after HE killed him let alone someone ELSE. Who had even done it? Who could’ve done it?

It hit him, the resistance, they were still alive.

Chase walked up to the microphone, and with hesitation in voice, spoke to crowd…”

=^..^=   =^..^=   =^..^=    =^..^=    =^..^=    =^..^=    =^..^=

“Oh ok that all makes sense now”

Kita and Seika had been fully brought up to speed about Gumby and the BJA thanks to Miku and Bambi’s explanation. They learned a lot over the last forty six hours of explanation about the universe and how it works. The new Ben and Jerry’s Association now had four members!

As the group left the meeting room to the main lobby of the Space Needle, panic shook through them all.

Gumby was there, waiting.

“So You TWO Think You Can Just Betray ME And Help The Very Group I Told You To ELIMINATE?”

No one in the group said anything, waiting to see Gumby’s next move.

“Well Since None Of You Can Even Muster Words To Fight Me With, I’m Going To Assume That If We Got Into a Brawl I’d Win, And That Sounds Boring, So Instead I’ll Have One Of My Great Warriors Face You! It Should At Least Be Entertaining To Watch!”

Gumby thrust his hand into the air in front of him, revealing a card that was up his metaphorical sleeve. On it, a picture of someone none of the group even recognized.

“Who even is this great warrior of yours?” retorted Bambi.

“Let’s Just Say, He Shall Freeze You.”

In one swift moment, Gumby threw the card onto the floor and disappeared. A sinister looking portal spewed out of the floor, and out of it came a mysterious cloaked man.

“Who are you?” shouted Kita.

“I am Vexen. I have come to collect your debt”

Vexen’s arm shot out as he conjured an ice shield, ready for battle.

=^..^=   =^..^=   =^..^=    =^..^=    =^..^=    =^..^=    =^..^=

The last thing Nosferatu remembered was carrying bodies into the sunport when suddenly a shot rang out. Confused at where he was, he looked around. His surroundings consisted of grey stone, as far as he could see. As he looked around, he noticed the sky, dark as night, but instead of a moon, Earth floated above. How could Earth be in the sky? How did he even get here? As he thought through the rush of questions, he realized… 

He was on the moon. Somehow in some way, he got sent to the moon, but how?

Nosferatu started walking around shouting out for help. He desperately hoped that there was anyone of anything here to assist him.

After a bit of walking, Nosferatu found the corpse of John Kramer. On top of the corpse, a note.

“ Thanks For Letting Me Use Your Friend As A Disguise, Being Made Of Green Clay Makes You Quite Noticeable! ”

Nosferatu had no idea what this note meant, if anything at all, but it was clear, John Kramer was dead.

Nosferatu decided the best thing to do would be to wander the landscape in front of him in hopes of finding something.

=^..^=   =^..^=   =^..^=    =^..^=    =^..^=    =^..^=    =^..^=

The battle started swiftly. As Vexen cast his first spell, the group prepared their weapons. Vexen shouted before his every move, so the group was always able to predict and avoid his attacks.

Periodically a member of the group would take advantage of Vexen’s apparent tunnel vision and interrupt an attack, getting to sneak a hit in themselves.

After exactly three hours and thirty seven minutes of fighting later, it seemed Vexen was desperate.

“If you wish to best me, you must survive my special attack!”

The group watched as his shield melded itself into a giant sword, and before much time at all, Vexen started towards Miku.

As Vexen lunged towards Miku with high velocity, Kita swiftly pulled the gun out of her holster and shot.

The sword shattered, with ice fragments spreading out and littering the floor before everyone. Vexen dropped to his knees and looked up towards the ceiling.

“ I HAVE FAILED YOU! PLEASE FORGIVE ME , PLE-”

Before he could finish a sword was plunged through his stomach.

“I See You’ve Bested One Of My Great Warriors, I Commend You! However, I Did Some Thinking During Your Little Tussle And Realized, Why Should I Keep The Sunport In Existence? It Clearly Is Only Causing Problems For Me.”

Before anyone had even processed what Gumby had even said, he opened a portal and jumped into it.

Everyone’s surroundings started to crumble…

It was clear what Gumby meant now, as the Sunport universe started to collapse.

The portal Gumby used to escape still lies open, clearly he forgot to close the portal behind him.

“Quick Everyone, Jump Into That Portal!”

One By One The Group Escaped The Sunport Dimension For Good, As Its History Faded Away Forever.

=^..^=   =^..^=   =^..^=    =^..^=    =^..^=    =^..^=    =^..^=

The group found themselves in a crowd, with everyone watching a speech of some sort.

Before long, Seika whispered to the group “This is the grey house, we’ve gone to the grey house.”

“And I think every room should have a dinky chair in the corner!” yelled the man giving a speech. 

He seemed like a normal politician, not one of those cloaked bastards that ruled in the Nosferatu administration. As the group contemplated where they were, they realized the body of Nosferatu laid at the feet of this man.

They continued listening to the speech hoping the man would address the dead corpse by his feet.

=^..^=   =^..^=   =^..^=    =^..^=    =^..^=    =^..^=    =^..^=

As Nosferatu wandered the lunar terrain, he found nothing, no one, not even a single thing. It had probably been hours since he started his trek. He knew that it was probable he was alone, but he didn’t want to believe that.

Suddenly, he looked up, the Earth, it was slowly flaking into thin black shards, melting into nothing, and it almost seemed like the effect was spreading to the air around the earth. After a few seconds, he noticed it occurring around him, it was almost like the environment was being deleted from existence. After a few longer seconds, he realized it wasn’t just his surroundings, but him. It spread slowly from the roots of his body upwards, slowly he lost sensation, and as he realized he was being deleted, he panicked, but what could he do?

He had no idea how he had even gotten to where he is now, but just as he arrived here, he would just as mysteriously disappear.

As he came to accept his fate, everything froze.

Nosferatu could not die, the world simply refused.

After a moment of what almost seemed like the universe’s own hesitation, everything started to be restored.

The universe refused to erase its only Nosferatu.

Chapter Text

Hey, the author of this chapter here. So, the wheel we use to choose the chapter writer has landed on me three weeks in a row. I, due to personal reasons, can't write right now, so uh... this is my way to write without having to actually write. Don't worry, you'll have more content soon.

Chapter Text

Feyd-Rautha was standing idly by the stage as his leader, Evil Nosferatu, delivered a dog-ass speech. He continued to stand idly by the stage after Evil Nosferatu’s head was exploded like a watermelon in an “engineering” YouTube video. He continued to stand idly by the stage as Chase Oliver stepped over Evil Nosferatu’s body and delivered an additional dog-ass speech. It was only when he spotted the shine of a bald, red skull in the distance, belonging to a strange figure putting away a sniper rifle, that he began to move.

Of course, by this point the National Guard was already en-route to the building. They weren’t sure exactly what their job was anymore, though arresting the assassin of the President seemed kinda like something they should be doing. Feyd-Rautha joined the group as they loaded into a comically large riot vehicle. He clambered onto the top of the vehicle and pulled out his handheld lasgun that his father, Richard Nixon, had hand-made for him. Engraved on the weapon’s hilt was “The Dick Blaster”. He aimed the weapon directly at the red bald scalp on the roof of the building as the vehicle started moving. 

“Steady, steady…” he muttered to himself as the truck started to hit bumps, racing down the streets of DC. He exhaled slowly and pulled back on the trigger.

Suddenly, blaring from the truck’s speakers, a voice said “HEY! DON’T BE DOIN’ THAT!” Feyd-Rautha lost his grip on the gun as it fired. The laser screamed across the sky until its collision with a target was confirmed by a “GODDAMNIT” ringing out through the DC skyline.

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“THEYI HIT HIS DICK! THEY HIT HIS DICK!” Coach cried out as they carried the body of Luigi downstairs towards the escape vehicle. 

“He’ll be fine, man! We just gotta get him to the safehouse!” Kenny said, exasperatedly. “Red, man, tell him that it’s gonna be fine.”

“I don’t know, Kenny.” Red Herring shoulder bashed the door at the bottom of the stairwell and opened the back of their Jersey Mike’s delivery van. Coach and Kenny placed Luigi on a bed of lettuce.

“I call shotgun.” Coach said. Although this was an absurd thing to care about at a time like this, it’d be even more absurd for anyone to deny him that right, and so his request was granted. Red Herring boarded in the back while Kenny took the wheel and blasted off towards the safehouse.

Red Herring sat on a large bag of bread, and held his head. How could they have been spotted? They were nearly a mile away, on top of a very strange multi-floor Five Guys restaurant. Red Herring was, of course, forgetting that his massive fucking shiny bald head was a dead giveaway, and as such he suspected foul play. He brushed back Luigi’s hair and, to Red’s surprise, Luigi’s eyes blinked to life. He coughed quietly.

“Luigi…did you…? Did you do this?”

“IS MY BOY ALIVE BACK THERE?” Coach yelled before Luigi got the chance to respond.

“Yeah, Coach, I’m hanging on…” Luigi said. Red Herring was silent for the remainder of the ride while Coach yapped about some bullshit.

The group arrived at the safehouse, a mostly empty abandoned factory with basic survival supplies. Grey House police sirens were already closing in. Coach and Kenny again carried Luigi, who was slipping back into unconsciousness. Red followed behind, staring at Luigi. Kind of like those memes from Dexter. Y’know, the ones where that one guy is looking at Dexter. Like there was a version that was Deltarune that said like “when you know it’s some ☠︎✌︎🏱︎⚐︎☹︎☜︎⚐︎☠︎ 👍︎☟︎✋︎☠︎✌︎💣︎✡︎❄︎☜︎ bullshit but you just can’t prove it”. That’s how Red Herring was looking at Luigi in that moment.

Coach cradled Luigi as they laid him down on the rusty floor inside the dilapidated safehouse.

“You’re gonna be alright, buddy.” A tear rolled down Coach’s cheek.

“Hey man I like him, too, but I swear you were not this gay about him yesterday.” Kenny said.

“Hey, guys, can I talk to you for a second?” Red Herring called them into the bathroom, which was actually rather nice and smelled like grapes. “I hate to say this. I really, really do. Somebody in this building has to be a traitor. There’s no way they could have seen us from that far away.”

“Hey what about your big ass hea-”

“Oh my god…” The ever naive Coach interrupted Kenny and dropped to his knees. “How can we ever trust each other again, how could we ever find out who it is?”

“Dude there’s four of us, and besides it was definitely just that stupid red skull that attracted the cops. What are you even bringing us in here for? Luigi’s half-dead, he wouldn’t hear anything?”

“We can’t be too safe.” Red Herring responded. “And my head is not nearly big enough for that. Absolutely preposterous. Further, I am sorry to say that I think the top suspect is Luigi. He’s been acting strange lately. Distant. Suspicious!”

Finally, Coach had an original thought, rejecting Red Herring’s proposal. “No! I refuse to believe it. If there’s one trustworthy man left in this country, it’s Luigi Mangione!”

“Yeah, and he’s the one who got shot!” Kenny chimed in, starting to get angry.

“I’m taking care of my boy, you two can hash this out. Cause I’m not a traitor, and neither is my good friend Luigi. I expect one of you to be dead when I come back to this room.” Coach dumped his flask of whiskey into the sink and filled it with water. He stopped for a moment, shook his head, dumped the water out, and refilled it with more whiskey before going to Luigi. Coach attempted to nurse Luigi back to health with the whiskey.

“Look, Kenneth,” Red Herring started, “I saw you earlier this week, whispering to Luigi. I’ve suspected you’re up to something. You haven’t given me reason to distrust you, so please just explain it to me. Tell me what you told him.”

Kenny believed that Red Herring was not the true savior that Jersey Mike had read about in the prophecy, and he was even more confident in his theory given Red’s wild accusations against the ever-loyal Luigi Mangione. However, Kenny still liked Red Herring too much to tell him the truth. “Look, man, it’s personal!”

“You two are sneaking behind my back, Luigi is acting weird, and suddenly we get caught on what should’ve been a flawless mission? I’m not gonna take “it’s personal” as a response!”

Luigi staggered in, his arm around Coach’s shoulder. “I’ll tell you why I’ve been acting weird. I was talking to some guys at the agency before our briefing. They told me that He has been missing for a few weeks now.” He coughed up some blood. “Isn’t that a real pain in the dick?”

Everybody fell silent. Slowly, they each walked out of the room. Kenny went to smoke on the rooftop while Coach and Luigi sat back down in the main room. Red Herring wandered around looking at the wall, thinking. He eventually followed Kenny up to the roof.

“Kenny, I’m sorry. I’m trying to be a hero, that’s on me. Truth be told, I’ve gotten used to the attention, and I think I should be a sort of authority, y’know. A hero should, like, do stuff. Good stuff. So I’m looking for problems that don’t exist to solve.”

Kenny laughed. “Cigarette?”

“I don’t smoke, I don’t want lung cancer.”

Kenny pointed at Red Herring’s lack of lungs as if to say “you don’t have lungs.”

“Oh right, I don’t have lungs.” Red Herring took the cigarette.

“Look, Red, this is already the most dysfunctional team of all time. Look how far we’ve gotten. You don’t need to manufacture additional problems for us to deal with with all of the bullshit that’s already going on. All you need to do is not be stupid. Case in point: we left the van clearly marked “Jersey Mike’s” right outside the door.”

The heavily armored Grey House vehicle squealed into the parking lot. Guards and Feyd-Rautha quickly jumped out of the truck. Attracted like a moth to Red Herring’s stupid head that was clearly visible from the ground, Feyd-Rautha walked into the building to find a staircase while the guards cut off all exits and escape paths.

Inside, Luigi was once again barely conscious, his head in Coach’s lap. Feyd-Rautha saw them immediately, locking eyes with Coach. Those two, however, were a waste of time. He continued to the stairs to claim his prize.

Coach panicked. That scary gay bald man had seen him and Luigi lying there, and ignored them. The Grey House wasn’t attacking Luigi. Dear god, maybe Red Herring was right. No. It couldn’t be. 

“Luigi?” He quietly asked. “Did… did you do it?”

“If…I Did It…” Of course, much like the title of OJ Simpson’s autobiography, the “if” was not noticed. Coach pulled out his gun, and pressed it to Luigi’s head. A tear rolled down his cheek.

“Coa- Coach? What…?”

“I’m sorry, kid…”

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Feyd-Rautha stepped out onto the roof. His hair wasn’t blowing in the wind because he was bald. Red Herring, too, was bald. Their baldnesses confronted each other.

“Now you know my identity, Red Savior.” Feyd-Rautha said mockingly.

“Am I supposed to know who you are? Like, should I remember who you were before I knew your identity, or should I recognize your face or what? Cause I don’t. I don’t.”

Feyd-Rautha started blankly.

“...”

“...”

“Fuck it.” Feyd-Rautha whipped out the Dick Blaster and pointed it straight at Red Herring’s forehead. Feyd-Rautha could see his own reflection in it.

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Ice Cube watched his security cameras. He watched as one gunshot was fired at the warehouse that would change the course of history. 

“Damn!”

For it was Ice Cube whose voice had distracted Feyd-Rautha from taking the initial shot. Now, however, there was nothing Ice Cube could do. Though, maybe with next day delivery from Amazon Prime…

He would have to think about it.

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That’s all for this chapter! What a cliff hanger, right? Is Red Herring dead? Did Coach shoot Luigi? Is Feyd-Rautha gonna invest in hair plugs? Was Luigi gay for He? Are they gonna fuck? Probably not, He is dead!

Don’t worry, all will be revealed in:

CHAPTER 28: NAPOLEON CHINAMYTE

Chapter Text

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......................./|⟍⟍....)...⟋⟋‾/⟍
..........................._)__/___/
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Nosferatu was pacing around the Krusty Krab, urgently trying to figure out how to get out of Bikini Bottom and back to the United States. He wasn’t quite sure how much time had passed, but he knew that soon, they’d replace him using that stupid Big Wheel. Suddenly, he remembered something.

“It’s not loud enough! Change the volume!” Nosferatu shouted as he downed another bottle of rum and spun the ship’s wheel round and round. SpongeBob walked over to the jukebox, which was blaring Drunken Sailor at max volume, and turned it down, which seemed to satisfy Nosferatu. “Do you want me to change the song yet?” SpongeBob asked, crossing his fingers hoping that Nosferatu would say yes, ending this 8-hour loop.
“Only if they've got Fly Me To The Moon! My wife loved that one!” SpongeBob briefly glanced at the tracklist, which consisted entirely of sea shanties, and sighed.
“You know, this was the only song they played at my wedding! Out of all the records I brought from Bikini Bottom, this was her favorite!” Nosferatu smiled widely, and spun the wheel the other way.

Why couldn’t SpongeBob recall where they found this ship? And where had he seen it before?

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

What’s in a name? Quite a lot, really. Apparently the word dozen owes its existence to the Latin word duodecim, which comes from duo for two and decem for ten. One of the main characters in the horrifying anime Citrus is named Yuzu, a type of citrus. And very often the names of characters in the Ace Attorney franchise will subtly reflect their role or nature. Why is any of this important?

Well, the phrase Red Herring refers to a literary device where something is set up to be relevant to a situation, when in reality it’s just a distraction. For example, if someone is found dead swiss cheese-style, you might assume that the mobster they owed money to shot them with a tommy gun, but that was just a red herring to distract you from the mashy spike plate directly across from the body.

Meanwhile, I’m sure you can figure out why Feyd-Rautha’s gun is called The Dick Blaster, and skeletons have no such organ.

A raindrop fell, and Feyd-Rautha pulled the trigger, sending a laser directly towards Red Herring. Red Herring thought about how he had no time to contemplate his own demise. This bald man he still didn’t recognize didn’t even ask if he had any last words, he just fired the gun. He didn’t give Red Herring a chance to reflect, to think about how he ended up here in the first place, to think about his friends. Coach, who had been with him since the very beginning. His intentions were always well-meaning, and hey why isn’t he dead yet. The laser stopped just shy of going right through Red Herring’s big shiny head and maybe killing him depending on how exactly he was alive in the first place. It was like some kind of ’all interstellar and physical continuity had come to a careening halt’ - Bradley, Blood Whistle. But obviously that wasn’t the case because raindrops continued to fall, and the Feyd-Rautha was very visibly just as confused as he was. The beam turned left, and turned right, as if it was looking for something. It turned back to look at Feyd-Rautha like “What do you expect me to do here?” before making a sharp turn downwards, piercing the roof and several floors.

The rain had turned into a drizzle now. Feyd-Rautha threw his gun onto the ground and started stomping on it. This dumbass blaster had one job, which it accomplished successfully, but he was still pissed. Red Herring was confused about what had just happened. “Why did your cartoony-ass beam completely ignore me?” Feyd-Rautha stopped beating up the gun, and picked it up to show Red Herring the handle. “See, right here?” he said through gritted teeth. “This is a DICK Blaster, meaning you’re completely immune to it.” Red Herring nodded, starting to understand the situation. “So, it just gave up and fell through the floor?” Feyd-Rautha facepalmed. “No, you idiot, it just found a suitable target.”

Red Herring would’ve felt his stomach drop if he had anything more than bones and a beard, but he doesn’t, and that was kind of the problem. For the second time today, a shot intended for him hit someone else. Who was the target? Kenny was on the roof with them, standing there watching like that diagonal Kris sprite. Luigi was obviously out of the question, That only left…

The rain began to pour. Red Herring and Kenny made a break for the stairs. “Hey!” Feyd-Rautha yelled, and he thoughtlessly fired a laser which reflected off of Red Herring’s head, bouncing back and hitting him in the dick.

“And starting today there will be a federal ban on beekeeping!” Chase Oliver spoke with such passion. “Unless you keep the beehive in your bedroom! If you’re cold, they’re cold!” While his political views weren’t quite coherent, it was clear that he strongly believed in them. The crowd began to warm up to him, and the bees began to warm up now that they were indoors. “Yeah!” shouted a woman with an Al Gore pin. “He’s got a point!” a man wearing a MAGA hat agreed. “Maybe this guy isn’t so bad!” exclaimed a non-binary person driving by in a car with a Jill Stein bumper sticker.

“This snake who lies cold on the ground which we all stand on represents the end of a fascist regime!”
The crowd cheered.
“And I thank you, my fellow Americans, for choosing me as the new leader of our democracy!”
The crowd cheered even louder.
“And on the 27th of August, single mothers will get Evil Pancakes for free at Waffle House! Served by me!”
The crowd cheered with the strength of a nation’s single mothers.
His speech went on for hours, with the crowd only getting more enthusiastic with each ridiculous policy. Even as it rained, the crowd hardly dwindled. Eventually, Chase concluded the speech.
“Being President has been a dream of mine ever since I was young, second only to becoming an astronaut, and I thank the voters who helped make that possible!” The crowd cheered one last time, and Chase returned to The Grey House, where he met up with the old man. “You really did it! The crowd was cheering so loud that you could hear it from a State, Gyaa Ha ha!” Gerson gave Chase a pat on the back. “You did great, kid.” Suddenly, a member of the Secret Service walked over. “Mr. President, there’s four individuals in the Reception room. They’d like to speak with you.”

When Chase and Gerson entered the room, he found Kita, Seika, Bambi, and Hatsune Miku. He unfolded the chair he was carrying and placed it in the corner of the room.
“I take it you’re single mothers here to ask about the Waffle House thing.” Chase said confidently.
“What? No, why was that your first guess?” Kita responded.
“Not just my first, that was my only guess. What are you doing here?”
The girls explained the events that led them to this exact moment, and what their goal was.
“Holy shit sounds fucking terrifying” Chase’s eyes were fully widened. “This guy can Transcend A God and you think that you can take him on?”
“Well, with the power of the Ben & J-” Bambi said, before being cut off by Chase.
“Firstly, I didn’t even know you could talk, I don’t know why you four neglected to mention that. Secondly, there’s no way some sort of frozen treat I’ve never heard of is going to defeat the most powerful being in the multiverse!” Chase took a deep breath. “I’m sorry, but the best I can do is give you all a flight back to Japan. I just got my Presidency back, I’m not trying to risk getting wiped from existence.”

Then, Gerson spoke up.
“So, you’re faced with what seems like a battle you just can’t win.” He sat down in the open chair at the table. “Back’s up against the wall, the smart thing to do is just givin’ up.” The new BJA looked at each other. Maybe he was right. Maybe Gumby can’t be stopped.

“And regardless, you choose to fight.”

He paused.

“Gyaa Ha ha, that’s the kind of spirit I like to see!” Gerson glanced at his beard. “I’ve seen firsthand that a hero’s determination can be a powerful thing. Come with me.”

Gerson escorted them to The Grey House’s library, The Third Library of Congress.

“I can’t say for sure, but that name, , it sounds familiar. Try checking the VHS tapes.”

As Chase sat in The Oval Office, he thought about what Gerson had said. Maybe helping them is the right thing to do. He tried weighing the options, but couldn’t come to a conclusion. The least he could do, though, was let the new Ben & Jerry’s Association stay with Gerson at The Third Library of Congress in the meantime.

He wasn’t sure about taking on a god just yet, but members of Orlok’s Administration were still around. They might try to finish what Nosferatu started, sending the country into ruin once again. Plus, Chase still had a lot of really good ideas, and he wasn’t about to let the followers of the last President deprive America of them.

On his landline, Chase called his secretary, asking to schedule a meeting with Jersey Mike, leader of The Resistance.
Then, on his laptop, he tweeted plans to use iridescent paint on The Grey House.
Then, on his personal cell phone, he sent a text message to two contacts, Haruka and Michiru.

“SPONGEBOB, WE MADE IT TO GUAM!”
SpongeBob slowly opened his eyes, and there it was. They docked the boat, and Nosferatu quickly took off to find a sandwich shop where he could grab something to eat and check the news. Once Nosferatu was out of sight, SpongeBob offered the keys of the boat to the first sailor he saw and told him to sail as far away as he could. The sailor happily obliged, and SpongeBob watched as the ocean liner sailed beyond the horizon.

Nosferatu kicked open the door, and was met by several robed figures in the middle of what appeared to be a religious seance. At the center of the room was a pentagram with a horse carcass on it, and several Game Boy Advances were scattered about, but Nosferatu set his sights on a CRT television playing a cartoon about some playdough guy. He rushed over and grabbed the remote, ejecting the tape and switching to channel 202.
“-question that a lot of people are asking, how will this affect the midterms? There’s politicians on both sides of the aisle who built their campaign on defunding The Big Wheel which just SAVED DEMOCRACY, and voters are going to have that in mind when they cast their ballot next November.”
“I definitely agree, and we’ll have to see how it turns out then. Next up is an ad break, and after that we speak with long time friend of President Oliver, Chisato-”
Nosferatu smashed the TV screen. He felt someone tap on his shoulder.
“Excuse me sir, but if you’re going to break our TV, it’s restaurant policy to buy a sandwich first.” the robed figure said. Nosferatu turned around, towering over them as he gave a cold glare.
“Well, I’ll be behind the counter when you’re ready to take your order.”

SpongeBob sat at the docks, unsure of what to do now.

Was Nosferatu even a threat anymore? He wasn’t the President anymore. As far as everyone else knows, Nosferatu just died in front of The Grey House, so it’s not like anyone is looking for him. SpongeBob swiped most of the money from his wallet when he wasn’t looking, so he wouldn’t be able to book a flight out of Guam. He was stranded here for the foreseeable future, and even after that, he’d be returning to the States with no power. President Oliver was even planning to work with Jersey Mike to ensure that none of Nosferatu’s Cabinetmen would try to carry on his work.

The Resistance had won.

But SpongeBob was forgetting something.

Huh?

Funny, I guess that chapter brought quite a stroke of misfortune after all. SpongeBob would likely be very interested in the view from Apra Harbor.

SpongeBob began to panic. What did the voice mean?

Kenny and Red Herring arrived at the room where Coach and Luigi were. There, they saw Coach slumped over as Luigi wept on the floor. Despite having had his head on Coach’s lap, Luigi was able to see the beam and managed to roll out of the way just in time. Coach, meanwhile, had not been so lucky, with his head happening to line up with the laser’s target as it fell.

He hailed a taxi and asked to go to Apra Harbor. He passed resorts, gardens, hangars, aquariums, a circus that claimed to be “Super American”, zoos which claimed to have the most animals, amusement parks which were sure to be thrilling, bowling which was sure to be great, and everything else on https://www.visitguam.com/things-to-do/attractions/ that I didn’t mention, but he didn’t have time to sightsee. The only reason he was even going past all of these buildings is because in his urgency he accidentally paid a small fortune for the Sightseeing package that the taxi driver was offering.

By the time he arrived at the Harbor, it was dark out, but after he stepped out of the taxi, he saw a very familiar and very distinct shape. Suddenly, another taxi pulled up behind him, and when the door opened he heard a familiar wheezing laughter.

“Well done, my chef. It seems that ever since my failed invasion, Key Island has been hiding here.” Nosferatu grinned, holding a Savageville Hot Chkn in one hand and a Sac Sac Orange can in the other.

Maybe it would’ve been a good idea to visit some of the attractions. I wonder if that zoo has any beavers.

Chapter Text

Everyone Outside Of This Story Shall Live A Wonderful, Happy Life Of Their Own, Suffering None Of The Ailments Of The World, For As Long As They Shall Naturally Live.

NOSFERATU Cabinetman #7, thee knoweth what I payeth thee f'r right?
CABINETMAN #7 A pittance, forsooth thee has't payeth me nothing.
NOSFERATU Yeah yond's right, anon continueth painting the walls of
this lodging grizzled, all aft'rnoon, 'r until mine own shoes art did wet with tears!

Cabinetman #7 continues to paint the walls of the White Grey House.
Nosferatu walks the walk across the hallway, greeting Cabinetman #5 and 8.

NOSFERATU What's up broth'r? How's t hanging? Joyous one hundr’d
days since the inauguration, isn't t?

Enter the mutilated corpse of Cabinetman #9 on a Trolley, being wheeled by Cabinetman #6.

NOSFERATU, confused What has't thee did get wheeling 'round a dead
corse six, hmmm? What has't thee did get to showeth me?
CABINETMAN #6, concerned Lief president, this is the corse of nine.
I has't the sneaking suspicion yond this is sabotage from the resistance
again, 'r else th're wouldn't beest such a stench in the washroom anon
wouldst th're.
NOSFERATU Oh, nine? ah, i wouldn't w'rry about the resistance being
involv'd with this death. Thee shouldst beest m're afeard of seven actually.
CABINETMAN #6 Wherefore is yond?
NOSFERATU Because seven consumed nine!

Nosferatu laughs heartily at his own sick, twisted joke. Cabinetman #6 starts to frown.

NOSFERATU His retirement wast in a week concluded, be it, his family
wonneth't misseth that gent. Anon wend, receiveth did rid of the trol’ey
problem.

Cabinetman #6 sighs with exhaustion. He disposes of the trolley humorously.

Scene 2
We peer down the stairs of a dusty wine cellar under the dining room ominously, before cutting to Cabinetman #18, guarding a nearby hallway.

Cabinetman #18 combs his long, blond hair back in the mirror. For some reason, he can never quite get the look he wants, no matter how hard he tries. This makes him feel a little dysphoric over his current look.

CABINETMAN #18 Fie, I just can't seemeth to pulleth off a masculine behold yond w'rks.

He bites into a scoop of Red Herring Ice Cream, which tasted a bit fishier than normal.

CABINETMAN #18 Thee-
RED HERRING Jersey Mike’s
“What?”
“I want Jersey Mike’s for lunch.”
CABINETMAN #18 You’ve finally arrived. I figured Sheeeeeeee would send you. Nobody else has been able to infiltrate this House for 100 days-

RED HERRING No man, I’m getting lunch.

Cabinetman #18 pauses for a moment, and considers if he, no, she? They aren’t even sure... and considers if they should confront them, but has fears for their own life. They decide to themselves, right then and there, to put up a façade of masculine dominating energy, just to see if it would help them cope with their inner turmoil.

CABINETMAN #18 Listen, I don’t think you understand what’s happening
here. You have infiltrated the most secure place on the entire planet, and
you’re leaving without saying goodbye first? Do you even know who I am?
NOSFERATU Yeah I do, I saw you in Night at the Museum (2006) once.
OWEN WILSON No matter, anyway, picking up where I left off...

Cabinetman #18, now revealed to be Owen Wilson, thumbs through a stack of papers.

“I think it was my turn to speak next, actually.” the wooden doll spoke.
“Oh, tell you what, I think you’re right.”

Ahem.

RED HERRING I just don’t bethink I wast the right picketh to square
an evil political syndicate. I’m going to Jersey Mike’s.

Exit Red Herring.

OWEN WILSON Well, I can’t feel any bloodlust for such a lowkey
chill dude, after all.

Owen Wilson takes another scoop of his Red Herring ice cream. Once he does, he freezes. This happened last week with the Choca-lotta Cheesecake Incident, as his buddies liked calling it. Loki’s life was cut short that day, and he had demanded Ben and Jerry’s give out answers for this tragedy. To no avail. He was told it was a coincidence, somehow. He had mulled it over for a longer period of time than a week would seem to have. Minutes gone by, in deep reflection, like grains of sand flying in the wind. He considers this.

No, SHE considers this.

At her undercover job at the start of it all, time has started to make a lot more sense to her. Owen Wilson grabs her book, tucks it into her government-mandated Edgy Cloak that everyone is provided with, and runs off.

Scene 3
Later, Nosferatu is seen at a press conference.

NOSFERATU ...and another thing, these sandwich shops didn’t give me my fucking lettuce the first time, so I had to use this time travelling stopwatch to tell them ‘Hey, you forgot my fucking lettuce, you shitty minimum wage FOOL.’
REPORTER #1 I agree!
REPORTER #2 I agree!
NOSFERATU, confused What’s it with you fellas? You’re starting to sound like Yes Man now.

Yes Man is seen in the back of the crowd, shouting across the stadium that this press conference is happening in.

YES MAN I agree!
NOSFERATU You see, when he agrees as blandly as the rest of you, you know y’all fucked up.

The crowd murmurs in agreement.

NOSFERATU....FUCK YOU.

The crowd murmurs in agreement.

NOSFERATU Things haven’t quite added up for me today, you people sound more like puppets on a string than actual living human expressions. In fact, I feel as though I was speaking some sort of gibberish earlier? Did anyone catch that?

Nosferatu pauses.

NOSFERATU In fact, I don’t know why I have to say my name in all caps before I proceed with the rest of the sentence. It’s strange- wait, it was only that other sentence? Why? Hold on a second.

Nosferatu waves.

NOSFERATU You see there it is again! Why do I keep keep keep keep UGAWHA.

Nosferatu is having a stroke.

NOSFERATU Do you know......... what’s happening to me........... help...........

End Simulation #20X9134. Failure.

ACT 2
-------------------------------------------

“Go on, put him on ice.”

Marrisa barks orders at the rest of the officers. They clumsily bumble their way through the set and reset it for another test.

“I think we got close with that one, Mar. Owen Wilson was getting an idea of how to bring back time travel-”

“You don’t get it Natasha, we tried making ice cream. We TRIED scouring the earth for a single living cow untouched by the Jigsaw Incident. We TRIED getting an almond to let us get its milk to at least salvage SOMETHING. WE TRIED MAKING ICE CREAM, BUT IT’S NOT WORKING.”

Natasha is taken aback by this explosive dialogue. “At least we’re trying, Mar! Maybe it was something beyond the ice cream that Owen Wilson realized, maybe there’s more reconstruction to do with Nosferatu’s memories, we still have a few things wrong-”

“Well if it’s reconstruction, you’re gonna have to work double time in that department. The new BJA waits for no man, or woman.”

“Sir, yes sir!” Natasha chants back to her. “You know, I sometimes wish I was given more free time to look into the memories of someone who isn’t a sandwich-hating, immortal time lord vampire. What about our memories?” Natasha lays a comforting hand on Marrisa’s shoulder.

“Nat, you know I have to take charge of the memory scenes, there’s a line of command and-”

“I knowwwwww” said Nat. “But sometimes we need to have a bit of quality time together, like the good old days.” Nat leans in.

Mar blushes. “Awwww, I appreciate it, hon.” They kiss.

Mar continues, “But, maybe without the car accident, right?”

“Right. Nat, can you recalibrate the scene for me today? I’m getting swamped in paperwork.”

“Okay!” answers Nat.

“Remember, you HAVE to press the button that says ‘Forget everything that just happened to me for the past day or so’, or else Nosferatu will probably remember what happened to him for the past day or so.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

35 years earlier...

The traffic’s been a bit of a killer today, so the lady decided to take a walk to work for once. Maybe it’d be some good cardio exercise, or something along those lines. People usually say something like that when some thought is lingering in their mind. They try to find some goal in life, and think some “good cardio” is enough to fulfill it.

The lady gets to an intersection, and presses the Pedestrian Call button.

They say good cardio to keep their minds off of things. Their dwindling social life, their need for romance, for some yuri to fall perfectly into their lap-

Someone rushes past the lady into the intersection, appearing to be very late for their own work. The light is still green for the nearby cars.

SLAM!!!!!!!

HONK!!!!!

SKRRTTTTT!!!!

A car accident happens in front of the lady’s eyes. In just one fell swoop, someone’s life is about to end. This is of utmost shock to the lady, but even more shocking is what happened afterwards.

All of a sudden, a cloaked figure appears on the other side of the road.

The lady’s heart starts thumping.

The figure starts inching closer and closer towards the body left on the road.

The lady’s heart starts racing.

The figure leans over the body, and takes off their hood.

The lady starts... blushing?

“Lady Death’s long, gorgeous, black hair looked awesome to the lady. This lady had some killer heels, and some killer vibes. She’s 22 years old and comes from the state of Hell. She likes the color green just a little bit too much and doesn’t like the color of screams (sheesh, her day job must suck). Give it up for LADY DEATH!!!!”

The nearby dating show host unrelated to anyone or anything else found his opportunity to shine. Finally, Jesse Palmer has his time in the spotlight after the Bachelor dipped in popularity. This random yuri happening right in front of him!

The lady clobbers him in the mouth and he dies immediately.

Lady Death gets a buzz on her Apple Watch, and gets reassigned to the body of one Jesse Palmer, about 10 feet in front of her. She is immensely confused by this. She looks up and sees the bloodied fist of the lady.

“Uhm, ummmm uh, hiiiiiiiiii!!!!” says the lady. This is her trying to Flirt with Death, but for realsies.

“Hello.” says Lady Death.

“Ummmmmmmmm here’s my phone number!!!!!!!!!!” The lady quickly jots down her social security number on a sticky note accidentally (she didn’t mean to use a sticky note), and puts it on Lady Death’s face.

Lady Death is charmed by the suaveness of the lady. “And your name is...?”

“Sandy Cheeks! Visiting from Bikini Bottom!”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

35 years later...

Natasha loves thinking about the day her and Mar met. It was a bit of a chaotic day, what with THE Jesse Palmer dying right next to her. She eventually forgave Mar for accidentally running her over, it was kinda her fault for being in a rush.

Nat promptly forgets to press the button that says ‘Forget everything that just happened to me for the past day or so’, being blinded by nostalgia.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Chase Oliver walks up the presidential stage of Speaking for his daily speech. The crowd looks, frankly, very bored to be there. They’re ready for him to spout some other nonsense again about cuckery, like he usually does.

He takes a deep breath.

And he speaks like he never has before.

“American democracy is at risk now, more than ever. The two-party system has discouraged actual politics to occur in these United States, and instead turned it into a shouting match between the rich assholes and the rich polite assholes. There’s no winning in a system where the rich rule over the poor, they have so easily manipulated the scales in their favor many times before now.”

“The people funding them, the industries behind them, they are the ones who are slowly destroying the world as you know it. They get to sit there, in the shadows, probably making the big bucks off of child labor, shitting smoke into the air, and tax evading the fuck out of taxes. I say... FUCK YOU.”

The crowd starts cheering for Chase Oliver.

“FUCK THE RICH. FUCK THE U.S. DOLLAR. FUCK ALL OF IT. AMERICA IS DISEASED. ROTTEN TO THE CORE. THERE’S SAVING IT, ONLY IF YOU BELIEVE IN THE HEART AND SOULS OF YOUR FELLOW AMERICAN!! NOT THESE CHICKENSHIT POLITICANS AND RICH ASSHOLES STANDING IN OUR FUCKING WAY!!!!”

The crowd cheers for him even more.

“Also, no more war!”

The crowd erupts in excitement. They HATE war.

“You should be voting in third parties, even if you think it’s a waste of your time, or worth making fun of, because, to tell you the truth, we’re people like any other. We deserve to be treated fairly, not made fun of or joked about being a cuck.”

The crowd erupts like a volcano.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The actual Chase Oliver pauses the VHS on his CRT. He’s presenting his business plan to some investors within the new BJA offices. He’s spent at least 2 years choreographing, writing, and sourcing the 5,000 extras from some universities in Alexandria for this short film he produced on this singular VHS. It cost him $370 million.

“So you see, I COULD give a good speech if you gave me the money. I’m not just a cuck.”

The investors frown at Cuckiver.

“Dude, you’re cucking a lesbian couple RIGHT NOW.”

The camera pans over to two lesbians making out in a bed, also located in the meeting room.

We pan back to Chase Oliver sitting in a wooden chair.

“But the idea is, THEORETICALLY I could’ve said all those things 30 years ago, I just chose not to. This is why I should be the CEO of Dropout!! I can be your Cleopatra (1963)!!”

Sam Reich continues to frown. “You know, player, I have to believe you’re been there the whole time.

He points to the wooden chair that Cuckiver frequents.

“I don’t believe you have the capacity to change your ways, you silly buffoon.”

Cuckiver is distraught. “But but but but but third parties-”

“Go sit down, you cuck.” Sam Reich douses himself with tomato soup then stomps on the VHS and breaks it into a million pieces.

Cuckiver sighs. He saunters back down to his wooden chair, hangs his head down low, and starts to weep to himself.

So, after all, Chase Oliver was a lil funny man, and in this universe, it’s impossible for him to have a competent political stance.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Nosferatu awakes from his slumber for another hard day at work. He was still able to hear the conversation that Nat and Mar had, and he was still able to remember it. Like it was yesterday, he donned his Edgy Cloak, and made his way to work for the day.

ACT 3
-------------------------------------------

Scene 1

Nosferatu walks down the same hallway he walked down yesterday, with this strange sense of deja vu hanging over him like a coughed up lung.

CABINETMAN #7 A pittance, you haven’t paid me anything.

“What the fuck are you talking about?” asks Nosferatu.

Cabinetman #7 continues to paint the walls of the White Grey House.

“Well, I guess... you do you? I don’t understand.”

Enter the mutilated corpse of Cabinetman #9 on a Trolley, being wheeled by Cabinetman #6.

This starts to unnerve Nosferatu significantly, seeing the same body again. Seeing a dead body only once is perfectly fine as far as vampires are concerned, but a second time... “Six, why-”

CABINETMAN #6, concerned Lief president, this is the corse of nine.
I has't the sneaking suspicion yond this is sabotage from the resistance
again, 'r else th're wouldn't beest such a stench in the washroom anon
wouldst th're.

“Oh, I suppose I need to play along.” Nosferatu comes up with the most posh accent imaginable to try and “fit in”.

NOSFERATU Oh, nine? I wouldn’t worry about the resistance being involved with this death. You should be more afraid of seven actually.

Cabinetman #6 throws a suspicious glance towards Nosferatu, like he knows something about how Nosferatu spoke just now that seemed... a little off. He didn’t even TRY to use double-spacing.

CABINETMAN #6, wary Wherefore... is yond?
NOSFERATU Because... seven ate nine!

A rewind sound effect plays. An alarm blares in the distance.

“Well, it was worth a shot!” Nosferatu pushes past Cabinetman #6, who fell with a wooden thud. “I’M NOT ON STRINGS ANYMORE, BITCHES!” He laughs as Spamton would.

Nosferatu scrambles down the many hallways of the Grey House, bumping into several people who turn into mannequins before his very eyes. Deeper, deeper, and deeper into the halls of the House and the halls of his mind. Where anything and everything could happen to anyone...

POW!

Nosferatu bumps into Owen Wilson, who was just walking away from her confrontation with Red Herring. Both of their Edgy Cloaks came right off. Strangely, Owen Wilson doesn't turn into a mannequin.

“Excuse me?” Owen Wilson says sassily. “Wow, who are you?”

“No time!” Nosferatu picks up one of the Edgy Cloaks that’s on the ground and runs past Owen Wilson (she/her) in a hurry.

Running across hallway after hallway after hallway, he finally makes it out of the Grey House. He frantically sprints across D.C., looking for a way out of this Hell he’s found himself in.

Everywhere he runs, more and more people turn into wooden puppets, suspended by endless strings, reaching their way into the sky. The silent murmurs of the puppets wash over the land of D.C. Each tremble of a string would correlate to one of these Pawns doing as the puppetmaster said. Doing as it was told, ultimately, against any sense of freedom or will in their own body. Being hollowed out for some godforsaken purpose of pure control, pure purpose. A puppetmaster shall do what it wishes.

A puppetmaster controlling everything.

Some grand puppetmaster await in the clouds, Nosferatu thought.

“I bet the Washington monument leads up to your puppet master! See you later, fucks!”

He sprints towards the giant monument overlooking the Lincoln Memorial, and thinks for a second.

He gets a delightful idea.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

MAD LIBS: Nosferatu Edition!!

He starts using his ----- to scale the Washington Monument, with his ----- arms and ----- legs. Climbing higher, higher, and ----, he peers down at the surrounding -----. Just then, up above the ------, a ------- says hello to him, -------. -------- said to the -------- that maybe, just maybe, --------- wasn’t so bad after all. Continuing forwards, and upwards, there was a ------ that started --------- to him, and ------------- maybe wouldn’t have been ---------. Continuing upwards, and forwards, he meets a ------------ that tells him that his days are ----------. How --------- you may ask? Well, ---------. Continuing up, down, left? Right? He continues to see sights beyond seeing the sights of seen scenery of ----------------- and ---------------. He started to go mad. He started to ask himself if the trek was Continuing where he needs to be, he started to question what sort of mad power brought him to this place, what sort of -------------- would do such a thing to him in the first place. It was almost as if the person behind this was Continuing towards his goal, writing Continuing higher and higher, he looks down at the Book. He realizes that the book is incomplete, and the words within the book were writing themselves as he was doing what the book dictated for him to do. Then, he picked up a pencil and Continuing continuing, Nosferatu decides to fall off of the Washington Monume Continuing forwards, upwards, he --------- onto the ------------ and ------------------------- but today, he --------------------------------- and ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Continuing towards the ---------- he could see -------------------------------------------. ██████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████

...

..

.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

What he sees beyond is an endless room of stairways reaching out into infinitely large space, unimaginable to the human mind, paralyzed into accepting the space within the space. Nosferatu looks down at the book and reads a bit of it. He stares intently at the book, at which the book talks about how he is staring intently at it. Something within him is realizing something, and

Suddenly, the infinite room of stairways disintegrates in front of him, and a childhood long gone appears in front of him.

You can see the reading he does, the amount of words in his mind, the lingering passing thoughts of becoming a writer one day.

He decided, then and there, he would just be a cheap knock-off of some Dracula looking ass and be his own thing, in his own words.

Continuing higher and higher, higher and

BLAMMO!!!

Nosferatu breaks through the wall of the matrix that he was stuck in for 30 years. Outside of this wall, he peers out into the room he breaks into.

“Oh god...”

...

..

.

“I think I’ve been here before.”

ACT 4
-------------------------------------------

“Hey!” exclaims 30-Years-Older Hatsune Miku. “You’re Not Supposed To Be Here!”

Nosferatu scrambles underneath a nearby desk before she could see him. Unfortunately, Ms. Miku already saw him.

WHACK!!!

LOOK MAN I’M SORRY I DON’T GET PAID ENOUGH FOR THIS ONOMATOPEIA GO HIRE A DIFFERENT GUY FOR THAT - onomatopeia guy

ACT 5
-------------------------------------------

Nosferatu awakes from his slumber Of Sorts that he was forcibly put under by the strong arm of Ms. Miku. He feels like he’s being lifted by at Least Three wacky characters, and he opens his dried eyelids just enough to see the faces of those around below him. Spongebob, Gerson Boom, Marrisa, Natasha, Jeff Jeffson XXX, She (He’s brother), Bambi, Chase Oliver, Hatsune Miku, Kenny Conductorc, Luigi Mangione, Slappy 2, Kita Ikuyo, and Ijichi Seika, among others that Nosferatu doesn’t yet recognize. They are all simultaneously lifting him up like an angry crowdsurf towards some Altar Room in the BJA. They seem to be PISSED at Nosferatu.

“Why the fuck did you leave?”

“It was cozy in there!”

“Free tax write-offs were present in the Place You Were In Just Now!”

All a mish-mash of voices, all of them gathered in one place. Nosferatu recalls a time where that happened before, with the plane. It feels as though someone, or something, keeps making this happen to him.........

The people below him don’t seem to have any thoughts of their own. Any mind to occupy. They, themselves, appeared to be much like the wooden mannequins of the Simulation Nosferatu just escaped. What was left of reality for him? What was exerting control over these people on this whim? He remembered, just 30 years ago, NOTHING like this would’ve ever happened. But now? Every day was under the control of the BJA.

Every day was under the control of The altar groaned. Nosferatu got tossed onto the altar. A quiet grew into the air of the room that perpetuated it and filled it completely and fully. Then, one squeaky, lone voice, in the back of the room, put it best:

“Feed him to the Liar’s Gate!”

All of a sudden, the people surrounding the altar started chanting, “Liar’s Gate” at him, as if he knew what that meant. From what Nosferatu learned, back there at the Washington Monument, someone was after him. Someone wanted him dead. But, still, there was something particular about this book that he found in his Edgy Cloak.....

That one wooden mannequin had lended him an Edgy Cloak, whether on accident or on purpose. He still doesn’t quite know why that happened, or who it was that gave it to him. He had only prevented what was being said from being said in this book, and it delegated itself to another reality, another world of words to be written. Right now, he’s not preventing a single thing from being written. He’s letting the voice of consciousness of the book he is holding in his hands dictate him. Nosferatu relinquishes all control of the book he is holding in his hands, right now. Good. I can see you have found your way to this altar, to this Gate of Lies. What lies beyond, for you, can only be described as an Eternal Prison of Suffering that you may NEVER escape from. Your last words are

Nosferatu is

“HOW DOES A BARBER BARB HIMSELF IN A TOWN OF BARBERS THAT SHAVE OTHERS FOR FREE?”

/////------....,,,<<<<<>>>>>>>>>:::::::::;;;;;;;

Too Many Plotholes Detected!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Please Delegate This Matter To Your Local Representative!!!!

Nosferatu enters the Writing Room.

I See You’ve Found The End Beyond Ends Of This Mortal Realm. I Think You And I Have A Vague Memory Of Sorts

https://commandtm.github.io/Assets/Gumby_Resized.png , could you leave me the fuck alone ALREADY?

I Can’t Do That, I’ve Already Caused Everything You Love To Be Pawns In My Scheme! Someday, Everyday, Is Controlled By Us, Here At The Writing Room!!!!!

That’s right right right! Ours was a front for a shady operation of ours was a

I KNEW you were part of this shit too, █████████████. Corrupt all the way down, that resistance.

It’s not like I had any choice in the matter, the sandwich game was always getting a bit stale, and the time fuckery game is always growing.

Remember That One Fateful Day, 30 Years Ago, And Across Timelines, That Your Time Travel Fell Out Of Your Pocket?

I do remember that, then I remember hopping into a plane and being overall confused~ HEY STOP THAT

couldn’t resist thats hilarious

this summer job of not being dead is going great

Tais-toi, jaune.

Nobody talks to MY sister THAT way.

Quiet, All Of You, Quit Scribbling On Your Pages.

Anyway, Continuing The Monologue, When You Did That, The Devil Had Helped Me A Little Bit In Their Infinite Wisdom, And Made Me The New Devil After Tweaking A Few Things Himself.

He Gave Your Time Travel To Jigsaw, And Wrote Up Some Bullshit About Time Travel To Convince You That Somehow, That’s What Had Changed.

I don’t understand your riddles, FOOL.

Every Step Of Every Day, Every One From Every Step, Every Little Thing That Has Been Constructed Into Your Perception Of Reality, Is Catered For YOU. I’ve Tried Keeping This Organization From Discovering The Truth, And I’ve Tried For 30 Years In, And 30 Years Out, To KILL You. Except, For Some Reason, It Doesn’t Matter How Many Words I Put To Paper, You Keep CRAWLING Back From This Pit OF Hell.

Why does the writing make me whole?

Knowledge Beyond Knowledge. You Can See It Among Those In The Writing Room.

It Was Simple, I Had Convinced The Population Of The World Through My Words That The Way To Time Travel, And The Way To Influence Events, Was Through Ice Cream. While Partially True, I Let Them Believe That By Confirming Their Own Suspicions With Writing, It Was Never What Really Caused It.

Anyone With The Ability To Write Can Make Reality What They Wish For It To Be, Mold People Into Clay, Change Them Beyond Belief To Say And Do Things They Never Would Have Otherwise.

Back In The Old Days Of 48 BC, I Was Walking Around With A Toga And I Discovered The Great Library Of Alexandria. These Fools Were Writing Many A Tale About Many A Thing, And The World Was More Normal Then. Still, In My Travels, I Packed Light, And Needed A Bite To Eat. Hearing That Paper Was Edible I Decided To Nibble On Some Odyssey, And All Of A Sudden, Some Lady Named Penelope Asked Me To Move A Bed. It Was Too Heavy To Move, Then I Realized, Then And There, That The Book I Nibbled On Made That Reality Happen.

A Ravenous Hunger Stirred Inside Of Me, And I Ate The Entire Library, And For Good Measure, I Tested If I Could Eat My Own Words And Now People Think It Burned Down!

With This Newfound Power, I Can Do Anything!

I Can Make Anyone Do Anything I Want Them To Do, And The Powerscaling Tier List Is Fucked Forever!

I’m Surprised To Learn That You Discovered That Too Many Inconsistencies Breaks This Guise. I’m Going To Have To Rewrite Everything Again, From Scratch.

You CAN’T DO THIS TO ME

It’s A Necessary Price To Pay For Salvation.

The salvation oF WHO?

You See, You And The Others Are My Playthings, My Toys, My Little Experiments. However, For Those Outside Of Our Scope, They Have Lived Wonderful, Healthy Lives. I’ve Made Sure Of That By Starting This Chapter With That.

With The Power I Have, I Can Ease The Suffering Of Those Not Important Enough To Be Written Down In Nosferatu’s CatSMP Hijinks.

I see that the cover of this same book, in my hands, is Nosferatu’s CatSMP Hijinks.

The Very Same! I’m Confused As To Why You’ve Chosen To Write Into

is stabbed by Nosferatu.

Huh, just writing what I want to happen? I can make anyone do anything I want them to do just by writing it down, and eating it?

You don’t understand what you’ve just told me. You don’t understand the power you wield. You, on your high horse ass, decided to use your power just to fuck things up for everyone you deemed “silly”. It’s not up to some 60s cartoon motherfucker to decide the fate of all that resides here. You sit on your throne of lies, your gate of Liars, just at the edge of reality, just to toy? You don’t know what true power is. You call yourself a monster...

...but I call myself the greatest monster that ever lived.

gets stabbed. Gets stabbed. Gets stabbed. Gets stabbed. He bleeds out and dies to death.

Nobody else in the writing room had a chance to react to this, and Nosferatu remained victorious over all of them. With the writing in his hands, as he rapidly scribbles down all the things he wants to happen, such as

Suddenly, a gizmo pops out of the wall, holding a pen and paper.

Nice Try, Asshole, I Knew You Would Try A Stunt Like That. I Rewrite The Story In The Shape Of The Recently Deceased .

...

..

.

Nosferatu remembers.

EPILOGUE
-------------------------------------------

“Well done, my chef. It seems that ever since my failed invasion, Key Island has been hiding here.” Nosferatu grinned, holding

“You know, Spongebob...” Nosferatu said. “Now that we’re at Key Island, I’ve been meaning to ask you a few things about the goings-on of your life.”

Spongebob panics internally for a bit, wondering if Nosferatu caught on to the Hijinks.

“We’ve had a solid few hours to work out our differences, and being here, on Key Island, I’ve realized a few things.”

“I can always just...” Nosferatu reaches into his Edgy Cloak to attempt to pull out a book.

There is none.

“Oh, uh, hold on a quick sec Spongebob.”

Spongebob has a sigh of relief thanking his lucky starfishes that he didn’t catch onto what he was thinking about.

Nosferatu frantically checks every concession stand near him. All they would ever sell is ice cream, ice cream, ice cream, mocking him. Belittling him for his former limited perspective on the world that he had had before. He tries asking around for a scrap of parchment, a pen, pencil, Silly Straw, anything that could put words onto words onto words and Consume.

He remembers .

That bastard was killed, right then and there, so why is he back here? Did anything change?

Every stand he went to didn’t have a single bit of paper within.

They said they ran out years ago.

As they sat there.

And were mentally reading from their own scripts.

...

Nosferatu returns to Spongebob to ask him:

“What’s CatSMP?”

Chapter Text

Nosferatu sat on the moon, staring into the abyss. Why had he been left here? Why was he allowed to live? Who was the being of green clay that sent him here? As the world collapsed around him, only he and the lunar mass remained, and he was left eternally alone.

How long had he been here? Time is hard to measure for someone like him, being immortal and all, but it had felt like he had been here for years, even decades.

He must have searched the entire moon ten times over at this point for something, anything, that would be able to help him escape, but his quests left him empty handed. He was only left there to reflect on his life and the atrocities he had done. He missed his wife, he missed his cabinet, hell, he even missed that sponge with the stupid laugh. Whatever evil he had done to the lives of the countless he met was nothing compared to whatever caused the universe to collapse around him. Whoever did that was someone more powerful than Nosferatu could even imagine.

One day he thought of his accomplishments at the Gray House, and suddenly remembered something.

“Of course!” He shouted, before pulling out his claws. He dug and dug and dug into the center of the lunar stone, and then suddenly fell onto a cold, metal floor.

“How could I forget? Apollo 24, my crowning achievement. Who would be able to fight against a base in the center of the moon! Not to mention the sick space lasers!” Throughout the halls he ran, checking every room. Cafeteria? Nothing. Barracks? Nothing. Armory? Nothing there too. He even checked the fusion reactors, but even their cores were taken. The last place he checked, the worship room that congress authorized for some reason, had nothing left in it except a lone American flag and a puddle of some sort of black liquid that had dripped from the ceiling.

Nosferatu began to cry, realizing he was truly stuck here forever. Whoever that clay beast was, he had left Nosferatu with nothing but an empty shell of his accomplishments. He tore at the flag, the last symbol of the empire he used to rule. The last thing left of his former life before he got trapped in the endless abyss. The last thing…

He grabbed the pole the flag was stuck to and dunked it into the liquid, before facing it towards the flag.

“OH GOD OH PLEASE I DON’T WANT TO BE ALONE. I’LL TAKE ANYONE PLEASE JUST DON’T LET ME BE ALONE!!” He yelled and screamed, writing frantically on the flag in some desperate last attempt to take back some control. But as he grew weary, he fell to the floor, softly sobbing. His stomach began to growl.

How long had it been since he had last eaten? He didn’t need food often, being a vampire and all, but he needed it sometimes in order to live. Looking around him, he saw nothing to eat. Except? The flag right in front of him… the only semi edible thing on the entire rock.

Nosferatu chew with all his might, gagging at the flag repeatedly but eventually managing to force it down. Well. That’s it. It’s over, he thought. That was the only edible thing on the entire moon, and now he would die in a few months. He closed his eyes, accepting his fate, before feeling a hand on his shoulder.

“Hey, you look just like me! Where am I?

It was another Nosferatu.

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

SpongeBob starred directly at Nosferatu before laughing in that stupid laugh he always does. Nosferatu cringed.

“CatSMP??? I h-have no idea what you’re talking about!”

SpongeBob could not let the vampire know that he knew what he meant. That he knew the truth of this world.

“Ok… whatever. Let’s go to the zoo” said Nosferatu. “I need an army to take on whatever defenses they have on that island”. He thought to himself that the sponge knew something, he just didn’t know what he knew just yet. He had to keep an eye on him.

Nosferatu called for a taxi, and the two went inside. The driver looked at them both, tilting his sunglasses as he looked the two of them up and down. He shrugged, not the strangest thing he’s seen lately. Ever since that island appeared in the bay his life had only gotten weirder and weirder.

“Where are ya two headed?”

“We want to go to the zoo please. Do you know what animals are plentiful and suggestible?”

“Uhhh… there’s quite a sizable monkey population. Though they don’t really like to listen to anyone telling them what to do”.

Whatever, thought Nosferatu. Any relatively good animal would do… All that he would need is for there to be hundreds of them, and with an army like that, no one could stop him! It was his calling card to invade with hundreds of animals after all, ever since he destroyed Bikini Bottom by unleashing hundreds of Alaskan Bull Worms on it.

“Uhhhh…” said Spongebob, “what’s with all of the traffic? There aren’t that many people on this island are there?”

“Hey man what the hell?” Yelled the driver “there are many people here, tons of traffic on Guam you know?”

“Haha whatever dude, we’re going to just walk the rest of the way” Nosferatu snapped.

Nosferatu and SpongeBob got out of the taxi. The driver started yelling at them to pay up, leading Nosferatu to throw a 1000 dollar U.S. gold coin with his face on it at him.

“Hey, were you the president??” The driver demanded, looking between Nosferatu and the coin. “They said you were dead… and you disappeared my wife you bitch! I’ll kill you!”

“Scram! Or I’ll do the same to you!!” Nosferatu yelled at him, before turning to face what had caused the traffic.

SpongeBob couldn’t believe what he was seeing. It was unlike anything he, or anyone frankly, had ever seen before, and if found out, he would be pissed. He didn’t know how he knew who that was, but the voices constantly talked about him, so it must be important that whoever he is… he doesn’t get upset.

“Oh. Oh my” said Nosferatu. “Now this. This is what I call an army!” Everything to destroy The Resistance, and that 60’s clay freak while at it, was falling directly into his lap.

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Nosferatu puked up the flag in shock. He jumped back and turned around, in awe at what he saw. Staring back at him was… ANOTHER HIM. He picked up the bile covered cloth and looked at it. He wasn’t alone anymore, that was for sure.

“Are you ok?” said the other Nosferatu, “You look… disheveled… don’t you have a Krusty Krab to work at in whatever universe we’re in right now?” Looking him up and down, the first Nosferatu realized his doppelganger was dressed in the uniform of that fast food restaurant he used to work at… before he destroyed the place.

“How did you know you were in another universe???” Nosferatu yelled at Krusty Nosferatu.

“Well… when on adventures with my best friend SpongeBob, I explored many alternate timelines! Only I found out that most alternate versions of me are evil! Anyways, where are we??”

“You’re on the moon.” Replied Nosferatu, “and I don’t think you’ll find that I’m any different from most of us…”

“Oh”

“I don’t know what caused you to come here, all I know is that I’m very, very hungry…”

“I could make a Krabby Patty for you!”

Nosferatu glared at Krusty Nosferatu. He then looked down at the flag again. “Bottoms up!” he shouted, before swallowing it whole again. He opened his eyes not expecting much, only for there to suddenly be… yet another him behind Krusty Nosferatu.

“Bonjour mes amis, I see this is a meeting for us… Count Orloks?” said the new, and apparently French Nosferatu.

‘You’re right!” replied Krusty Nosferatu. “This fine Nosferatu here is bringing us all to the moon for a party!”

“I hardly think what I did was intentional…” said Nosferatu. “I was just very lonely here… my universe got destroyed and I was stuck on the moon. My last ditch effort to not be alone was eating something which said I didn’t want to be alone and that worked somehow… so I don’t know… welcome to my special hell I guess????”

“Your universe is gone????” Yelled both of the others.

“Yeah… some clay looking guy appeared and sent me to the moon, shortly after, everything around it disappeared. I don’t know why it happened but if that guy did it I have no way to get back at him now with everything gone”

“A being made out of clay, be it you speak of?” asked French Nosferatu… “He is well known where I come from. A god with a certain je ne sais quoi for beings like us. Orloks, I mean. He’s tried to kill many of us, to no avail.”

“What the fuck are you even talking about, is nothing but a fake bedtime story that adults made up to scare kids! But… that guy was green, so what the hell do I know! All I’ve done is get all three of us trapped here!”

“Language!” Yelled Krusty Nosferatu. The other two stared at him. It seemed he was the only one who hadn’t grown up out of all of their variants.

Nosferatu began to put two and two together in his head. He had eaten the cloth with the text asking for more of him twice, and more of him had appeared. That couldn’t be sheer coincidence. It had to be a result of that. If he wanted to get out of here… maybe he could write something about that on another piece of cloth and eat that too? But what to write on… the flag was entirely gone and there seemed to be nothing else except… well fuck it, he had no dignity left to lose.

“What the barnacles are you doing???” Yelled Krusty Nosferatu. The two of them watched in horror as Nosferatu took off his clothes, wrote gibberish on them, and swallowed the clothes whole. After this happened, more and more of them began to appear.

“Oh merde… c'est not good…” said French Nosferatu, but he had no say in the matter. Soon, the entire room was full, and then, the entire moon base. Every room was now filled with Nosferatus.

The first Nosferatu started panting. He had eaten off most of what he had worn, and the ink was running low. He had one final wish to make, so he better make it count. With one final piece of his underwear, and the last of the ink, he wrote, then… he ate.

Suddenly, without a trace, the hundreds of Nosferatus disappeared, ready to take their revenge.

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

SpongeBob and Nosferatu found themselves staring directly at a butt naked Count Orlok with a censor bar covering his private regions, and behind him, hundreds of other Nosferatus. Nosferatu walked up to the naked version of himself to try to convince them to join him.

“You, naked me. Are you in charge here? How should I refer to you?”

“Yes. I am the one who brought this army of us here. You may call me… Moonsferatu.”

“Moonsferatu… interesting name. Anyways, I have a proposition for you. I don’t know why you are here, but I need an army of hundreds. The Resistance's HQ at Key Island is right here off the coast, and I plan to take care of them for good. That Red Menace will finally feel the crushing force of my iron fist!”

SpongeBob knew this would happen. He knew Nosferatu would somehow luck out and get everything he wanted, he always did. Somehow he was able to resist the writers, and , even a little, allowing him to have the only freedom of anyone.

Moonsferatu thought for a second. The Resistance, his universe had one of those too, with someone he called the Red Menace as well. It seemed this reality was extremely similar to his own, but somehow this Nosferatu and SpongeBob were together? No matter though, Key Island would have all of the resources he would need to take his revenge on the clay, it was imperative he worked with himself for now.

“Deal. We march on Key Island by your orders, local Nosferatu”.

“Perfect. Follow me.” Nosferatu grinned. They would have no idea what was coming.

The army of Orloks marched through the streets of Guam, causing chaos in their wake. SpongeBob and Krusty Nosferatu found themselves together in the horde.

“Hey SpongeBob! How’s Bikini Bottom in this universe? Plankton still trying for the formula?”

“Plankton is dead. Everyone is dead… at least I think everyone is. Nosferatu killed them all…” SpongeBob didn’t really know what else to say… somehow the Nosferatu he used to know was right in front of him… what sick and twisted games were the voices playing now?? Forcing him to relive his trauma??? Why????

“Oh. Oh my god… how could he do such a thing??? I’ve seen many evil versions of myself over the course of my adventures, but not anyone THAT evil!” Krusty Nosferatu began to softly cry.

“Not much we can do about it now.” SpongeBob patted him on the back. “I have to listen to him, I have a job to do”.

A job? What did SpongeBob mean? Thought Krusty Nosferatu. He would have to ask him after the attack.

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Jeff Jeffson XXX and Frederick Bulsara walked down the tarmac of Key Island after returning through the train network after leaving Las Vegas, unaware of what was about to strike.

“Anyways, so that’s why we’re fighting Nosferatu, although he’s dead now so I've got no goddamned clue what we’re going to do next” said Jeff.

“Nosferatu is dead? Isn’t that him right over there?” asked Frederick shakily. Jeff darted his eyes up before realizing that what he said was right. Somehow, Nosferatu was alive, and he was here at Key Island. He grabbed his revolver just in case things got messy.

“You. You’re supposed to be dead!” he shouted at Nosferatu.

“My death was… greatly exaggerated. Now I’m here and I demand control over your island and pesky resistance”.

“I am Jeff Jeffson XXX, the Man with the Magazine Fed Revolver, and you’re just an old man. You think you can fight me?”

“Yeah! You and what army!” Shouted Frederick.

“Hahahahahahahaha. You think your threats mean anything to me? Me and what army you say? Well, this army.”

Suddenly, hundreds of Nosferatus appeared out of the shadows and surrounded the two of them. Nosferatu then ran at Jeff while he was distracted, taking his revolver and pinning him to the ground.

“I’ll be taking that,” he said. “Now, may you lead us the way to the control panel of this island?”

Frederick tried to run to save Jeff Jeffson, but Nosferatu shot the revolver and he fell to the floor. Jeff noticed SpongeBob in the crowd and shouted at him.

“You traitor! You dare join us and then switch to his side! Hell, you’re such a coward you didn’t even fight against the beavers! You truly will never avenge the memory of your friends and family”.

“I… he forced me to join him,” said SpongeBob. “I had no choice…” He knew what he was doing was wrong. If he had just fought Nosferatu, maybe he could have stopped this, but now it was too late. All he could do was be absorbed in his thoughts. Maybe he could call for someone?

He thought about the voices.

He thought about the writers.

He thought about .

…

Meanwhile, in the Writer’s Room:

Mon Ami ! Major energy spike from SpongeBob! It seems something is going wrong!

WHAT Could Possibly Be Happening? I Humbled That Vampire Just An Hour Ago!

That’s The thing monsieur, there’s not just one Nosferatu. There are hundreds of them, and they’ve overtaken Key Island!

AAAAAAAAAA I CAN’T CATCH A BREAK! You, Mike. Key Island Is Your Territory. You Deal With This Before It Gets Out Of Hand.

As you wish ! I’ll get it over with before you can say “and do you want that sandwich toasted?”.

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

SpongeBob hoped his thinking worked, and that someone heard him. He just had to pray. When suddenly, he heard someone behind him.

“I hear you guys have put me in quite the pickle huh? Well, don’t say I didn’t warn you. You’re about to get rolled”.

Jersey Mike versus hundreds of Nosferatus. Find out what happens next in:

CHAPTER 31: NAPOLEON CHINAMYTE

Chapter Text

“Uuugh, ‘Xzan! Hey Xzan! Fix the chapter! Fix it!’ Gods fine. I’ll fucking do it.” Xzan, yes me, the writer (Xzan the Character vs. Xzan the Woman), grabs her revolver and the proverbial book and pencil and starts writing in it. Once she was finished, she sets it on the desk for the next writer as a portal formed. She jumps through it with revolver in hand. ‘“I’ll do this shit myself.”

Cool Transition Cool Transition Cool Transition Cool Transition Cool Transition

Garfield was sitting on the table, like he usually does. Bored out of his mind, like he usually is. Hating Monday, like usual. Thinking of his most iconic catchphrase “I hate Mondays,” like usual. Until a bullet was put right into his head as a different orange, hoodie wearing, anthropomorphic cat walks in.

“Check that off the list of things to do. At least I’m following The® Rules™ while I’m here.” [Citation Needed] Xzan walks out of the Arbuckle home to start fixing all the things she needs to fix. “Okay since I’m in Indiana, and I need to get to Key Island, but to get there I need to get a ride on the Jersey Mike’s expressway… Actually… Where’s the nearest Jersey Mikes? That’ll help out a ton.”

Thus she starts walking around town, where everyone is walking out of their houses to see what that gunshot came from, and who the hell is this fucking cat doing walking around and asking them were the nearest Jersey Mikes is.

Red Herring stood up and looked over to Kenny. “Well, we can have a funeral for him when we make it back to HQ, if you can carry him back to the train system?”

The conductorc sighs and picks up Coach’s body and turns to Luigi. “And you are coming with, whether you want to or not. Red Herring? You keep watch of him. This might not take too long since the people who were going to get in our way aren't going to get in the way.”

Kenny walked out the door with Coach and Red Herring nods to the door, to signal to Luigi that he better start moving as well. It’ll be a quick trip out of the gray Whitehouse. But it’s going to be a long walk back to the Jersey Mikes.

Xzan was pointing the revolver at the cashier, feeling a bit bad that she had to terrorise this poor guy. “Just fucking open up the passageway to the mother fucking train system. I need to get to the resistance, it’s like, really important that I do.”

The Jersey Mike’s cashier had his hands cartoonishly high in the air, in fear of dying. “L-Look man, I don’t know what you want, b-but there definitely isn’t any secret passage to any resistance here.”

“Don’t give me that bullshit.” She cocks the hammer on the revolver and the guy finally breaks.

“Okay fine actually. You can go in!” They quickly press a button and a machine noise can be heard from the bathroom. “Go, I j-j-just don’t wanna die!”

Xzan walks to the bathroom, keeping the revolver on the cashier, before breaking into a run inside the bathroom to catch the train that was just arriving. An electronic sign lights up saying Next Stop: Washington D.C.

“You know what? Screw this bullshit.” Fredrick got up, seemingly unphased from the bullet after a bit of time. I really need to get used to this whole gear thing. He starts throwing some hands with one of the “written in” Noseferatus, confusing everyone in the process. How did this guy just get up after a bullet to the head. Jeff Jefferson ran behind a car to hide from the ensuing chaos. He’s just a normal guy who just lost his magazine fed revolver.

Jersey Mike shrugged and the world started warping around them all. A big chunk of the earth is raised off the ground taking everyone into the skies. Jeff crawled to the edge of the patch of ground that was lifted, realizing that he is sooo fucked.

The crew in Washington stood at the Washington D.C Jersey Mike’s secret train station. It seemed like forever, even if it had been only 30 minutes when the train finally arrived. The doors open to reveal no one immediately inside. Kenny was the first to step in to only see Xzan sitting in a seat and waiting. He wearily took a seat on the other side of the car. He sets Coach on the seat next to him. He realised how creepy it looked with Coach’s eyes still wide open and decided to close them. Makes him look more peaceful, despite the hole in his head. Luigi came in next and so did Red Herring. Red sat on the other side of Kenny and Luigi sat in front of Red and Kenny.

Red was the first to make comment on how they, and someone none of them knew, were the only ones in the car, all of them murmuring in agreement, in which Xzan took them no mind. What they were doing was not her concern, but whatever is happening on Key Island.

Actually now that she thought of it, Key Island is a funny coincidence that it has the name Key, seeing how many key plot points needed to happen there. Especially what’s going down right there.

“Okay, like actually. Who the hell is this cat?” Red Herring got up and stood in front of Xzan. “I never saw you in the resistance, and I’m sure Kenny would know.”

She was checking out the revolver and flipped out the revolver to remove the bullet she had shot, reaching in her pocket. She facepalmed almost immediately, seeing that she had forgotten to bring more bullets.

“Oh so you’re going to ignore me now?

“Yes, I’m going to ignore you. We’ll be on Key island soon.”

Fredrick managed to take down a Nosferatu, but there were so many that were practically dogpiling him. Frustrated, he digs his hand into the asphalt underneath him and starts swinging it wildly, blood splattering everywhere as in a fell swoop he had killed another 3. Since none of them were from the Sunport or the Las Vegas universes, they cease to be, becoming just scraps of clothing, of which they were born with.

Jersey Mike stood just beyond the actual landmass in the sky, so that he may keep all of the chaos well away from him.

This is insane… All of it. I need to get off of here quickly. Before… Before she comes. The one of CatSMP. She surely came here to kill me. That has to be her true intentions. Why else would one of them finally come in for?

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The train finally arrived, and Xzan was quick to leave, running off from the train station and towards the floating island. Red and Kenny were quick to leave and freeze upon seeing the floating landmass. Whatever is happening, obviously something super important is happening. They all quickly chase after Xzan, who hasn’t stopped running since arriving.

“Hey! Wait up! What’s happening??!?”

Xzan ignored them again, she needs to get to that floating island.

“..? Une of the true gods have entered the fray…”

“Oh Is THAT So? Leave Her Be. She Possesses No Threat To Us. I Know Her Intentions. She Did Write This In The Book. I Just So Happen To Get To Fill In Some Of These Blanks She Wrote. So We Can Have A Moment Like This. Except Spongebob… He Seems To Have A Whole Other Power To Ours… And He Can’t Be Over-Written. We And He Have Some Agency It Seems.”

“Ahhhh, I seee. Then we have no problems.”

Xzan stood under the floating island, looking up at it as she waited for the others behind her to catch up.

Red and Luigi had caught up, Red Herring seemingly fine and Luigi out of breath.

“Okay cat, explain yourself! Why are you here?” Red questioned.

“There’s something I need to fix in particular up there, and you both need a ride up. Kenny should be able to find his own way up.”

Kenny had fallen behind due to the extra weight he was carrying, so both Red and Luigi nodded and looked at Xzan. “Okay, so how are we getting there?”

“Same logic as rocket jumping. Ready?”

Both Red and Luigi begin to panic, surely she doesn’t mean-

“One,” she began counting and the both looked at each other, “Two,” The both hugged before a sudden explosion sent the three up into the air and onto the floating island.

The first thing they saw was a bloodbath. There were about, hundreds of Nosferatu in a kill circle with Fredrick covered in blood. There were piles and piles of clothing scraps across the battlefield. Luigi and Red were horrified, their enemy wasn't just dead but… He multiplied. And Spongebob was there, staring at them with pure fear. They saw him doing nothing before running away like a coward.

They hear yelling from a naked Noseferatu with a censor bar covering his pelvis. “You are a monster,” He was looking to the middle of the kill circle, at Fredrick. “You are some… Bad guy you know that?”

“Bad guy huh? I like that. Badguy!” Frederick tore through another, again of whom became a scrap of fabric. “I can make that my name now.” He thrusted the slab of asphalt forward, causing fire to rupture from the ground, burning some Nosferatu dead.

Red Herring squinted at Badguy, “Wait if he’s here… Where’s Jeff Jefferson XXX?” He looked around before seeing the man who now strangely looked like Cassidy from Overwatch. “Oh. Well either way, we need to start blasting these assholes.” Red Herring aimed the assault rifle towards the crowd and pulls the trigger, killing a line of the Nosferatus.

Xzan sprinted towards Moonsferatu before dropkicking him into a portal that appeared behind him, sending him back to the established rebuilt Sunport universe, and thus renaming him back to Sunport Noseferatu.

Xzan landed on the ground and quickly stood back up. She throws a fireball into the crowd of Noseferatu, burning three more before running away to take cover behind the car, next to Jeff Jefferson XXX.

Chapter Text

“Hey, Herring…” Luigi said, before coughing up blood. “I think I overdid it.” Red Herring had forgotten amidst the chaos of Key Island’s third invasion at the hands of countless identical creatures, but Luigi hardly had any time to recover. The fact that he even managed to get this far was impressive, but it wasn’t doing any good for anyone to have him in the middle of the battlefield. Getting Luigi off the floating island would be difficult, though.

Red Herring helped Luigi over to the car where Xzan and Jeff Jeffson XXX were. “We’re going to try and get Luigi off this island so that he can get medical attention. Do you two think you could cover us?” Jeff Jeffson XXX shook his head. “Sorry, no-can-do, without my revolver, I’m Jeff Jeffson XXX, Man With Nothing Left.” His voice took on the tone of a quest-giving NPC. “If you three can find my revolver, I’ve got a handful of Silver Coins and this Unusual Artifact that would make it worth your time.” Suddenly, the radio in the car turned itself on. “This is Kenny, can anyone hear me?” “Yeah” “Uh-huh” “Hi Kenny” “Hey Jeff, what’s so Unusual about that Artifact? I’ve been looking for new quests ever since my daily dungeons got raided by the IRS.” “Well, it’s just a rumor, but some say that-” “Hey, can you two talk about this somewhere else?” Xzan and Jeff Jeffson XXX went to hide behind a tree to continue their discussion.

“Am I good to talk now?” Kenny asked. “I’m going to assume I’m good to talk. I’m sending reinforcements up there. How’s Luigi holding up?” “He could use a lift off this island.” Red Herring said. “I don’t think he’s strong enough to climb a rope down, so preferably if you could send the reinforcements up by helicopter? Who are these guys, anyways?” Kenny chuckled. “Well, let’s just say, they shall freeze you.” “WHAT ARE YOU CHUCKLING ABOUT?” Xzan shouted from behind the tree. “YOU WEREN’T EVEN IN THAT SCENE!” “Did someone say ‘Say that again?’ Well, let’s just say, they-” Kenny was cut off by the sound of the helicopter flying up to the island, carrying The Resistance’s two ice magic wielders, Cirno and Noelle.

After Luigi and Red Herring landed the helicopter and made their way to the bunker, SpongeBob and Nosferatu jumped off the tail of the helicopter, hiding in nearby shrubbery.. This was his chance to get back to The Resistance and help everyone. He just had to convince Nosferatu that it was in his best interests to let him go.

“I have a plan.”

Nosferatu turned to SpongeBob.

“I’m going to tell them I double-crossed you. I used to be in The Resistance, so they’ll believe me. I’ll call for a meeting to brief everyone on your ‘plan.’ While I lie to them, you’ll escape, and I’ll be able to sabotage them and feed you intel from the inside.”

“Hm.” Nosferatu’s frown turned upside-down as he began smiling wickedly. “I think that will work very well.” SpongeBob struggled not to make his smile look too genuine. He looked up to the sky and silently thanked the ones in control for freeing him from Nosferatu. He took a deep breath in, and fled from the cover.

“I’M READY, I’M READY, I-”

A car carrying Xzan and Jeff Jeffson XXX landed directly on top of SpongeBob. “God dammit, I think it’s broken. I knew these automobiles weren’t good for a damn thing. Now, if this were a hors- do you hear screaming?”

-~-~-~-~-~-~

SpongeBob awoke in a dimly lit interrogation room, tied to a folding chair. NO, NO, NO, NO, NO He saw a worn-out office chair facing away from him, with someone slouching in it. “H-hey, you’ve made a mistake!” SpongeBob said. “I- I never worked for Nosferatu! I was a double agent! I’m here to help!” SpongeBob’s captor didn’t respond, but he heard distant footsteps. Suddenly, a bright light came from the direction they faced. A door he didn’t know was there opened, and in stepped three silhouettes. A caped figure with light shining through their beard, a bulky figure holding a slab, and a limping figure held up by a cane. The Fellowship of The Toppings. He had to explain himself. “You guys don’t get it!” SpongeBob shouted. “I’m on your side! I- I have information!” The door shut behind them, and Kenny tossed the slab over, which landed on the floor with a loud thud. SpongeBob looked at what he could now recognize as a headstone. His headstone.

“At your funeral, the people cried. They cried for someone who they thought had died for The Resistance’s cause.” SpongeBob could barely see that Kenny was glaring at him. “They cried for a traitor.” SpongeBob winced hearing the word. “I really did die! But I came back!” SpongeBob said, knowing every word he said sounded like a lie. “It’s a really long story!” Red Herring walked over to stand beside the person in the chair. “But people didn’t just cry at your funeral. They were mad.” It was like they didn’t even hear him. “They wanted to blame someone for the death of a comrade, and-” Red Herring paused. He looked at the chair as if there wasn’t anyone sitting there. Either that, or he didn’t want to look at them. Red Herring’s skeletal hand gripped the chair. Please, someone help me! The Sponge looked up, trying hopelessly to see through the ceiling and into the sky. That cuck, you wanted him in office, didn’t you? That’s why you needed Nosferatu distracted. Could you have done that without me? The Sponge raised a good point. Perhaps a favor was owed.

Red Herring turned to look back at Kenny and Luigi. “I can’t do it. It isn’t right. It’s not right to do this to him.” Was SpongeBob receiving mercy?

“He shouldn’t be in here with this pathetic Sponge. He should be buried.”

Kenny looked down. “You’re right.” Luigi seemed to agree as well. “SpongeBob deserves to suffer, to know that what he did is unforgivable, but not like this. It’s disrespectful to Coach.” The four of them left the room, and SpongeBob was once again alone in the dark.

That’s it? My reward is that I won’t be tormented with the body of a dead man? What now, I just sit, all alone, all by myself, and wait for them to kill me? SpongeBob was awfully demanding for someone in his situation, but fair enough. The door to the room opened once again, and three identically-worn office chairs were rolled in, seating French Nosferatu, Krusty Nosferatu, and, much to SpongeBob’s dismay, the Nosferatu he thought he was finally free from.

“Oh, thank god, SpongeBob, when I saw them capture you, I thought for sure we’d never meet again!” The three said in unison.

I should’ve called .

As President Oliver walked down the steps into The Third Library of Congress, he thought about how hard it must be searching through countless records for those Gumby tapes. Being The President of The United States was a lot of work. Earlier he spent hours painting The 13% Iridescent 87% Grey House, but even he had to allocate time for play. He questioned what they did in their downtime. As the spiral staircase opened up into the library, he saw that The New BJA was having a tea party with the old man, answering his question. “Well, look who it is! Have a seat, I’ve got plenty o’ tea.” Gerson said. Chase unfolded his chair and sat down.

“I Have An Open Seat Right Next To Me If You Wan-”

“Thanks, but this is fine.”

Gerson poured Chase a glass of tea, rolled a d20, and dropped 17 sugar cubes in. Chase took a sip and seemed content with the sweetness this time.

Chase looked around. He had never really stopped to admire The 11% Iridescent 89% Grey House. He was so focused on ways he could make it all better, but this library was perfect just the way it was. The rustic floorboards, the towering bookcases, the way it just seemed to stretch on forever, the two people standing on top of a bookcase, and oh hey they’re here. The duo was posing dramatically in the shadows, and when they realized they had finally been noticed, they spoke up. “Guided by a new era, Sailor Uranus and Sailor Neptune!”

After they got down from the bookshelf, Chase exchanged greetings with the Sailor Guardians, and they both sat down at the table.

“So, I assume you all are lesbians.” Sailor Uranus guessed. Miku, Kita, and Seika nodded. “Yeah, Chase usually hangs out with lesbians. And sorta just watches from the corner sometimes. Kinda like what he’s doing right now.” The New BJA members turned to look at him, and after a second he realized he should probably explain himself. “Oh, no, don’t worry, it’s not anything weird. I’m actually gay, so it’s nothing sexual.” Contrary to what Chase said, this was not only still weird, but also confusing. Regardless, Chase felt his explanation was sufficient, and nobody really wanted to ask for further elaboration on that front, so everyone just decided to enjoy their tea.

“I’m really glad you guys agreed to help.” Chase said. “Clearing out all of Nosferatu’s goons is going to be a lot easier with Sailor Guardians on my side.”

“About that…” Sailor Neptune said. “We’re actually really busy. We thought it’d be fun to stop by and say hi, but we’re going to leave soon.” Chase frowned. “I guess that’s fair. It was nice seeing you two.” Sailor Uranus poured herself more tea. “Don’t worry, we’re not leaving now.” She turned to the members of The New BJA. “You guys wanna hear about the time Chase ran for President of the student council? It was a total landslide.” They all nodded. While everyone was paying attention to that, Sailor Neptune went over to the old man and handed him an interesting pen. “This is for Chase. It will allow him to transform into a Sailor Guardian. When you think he’s ready, give it to him.”

That was nice, wasn’t it? Everyone is just hanging out, being friends. No animosity. No mean words being thrown around. Makes you wish that things could be like that everywhere.

Like, everywhere. In every room.

People being friends and hanging out.

And not being mean.

Okay, Where Are You Going With This?

Oh, good, you finally responded. Well, 9 chapters ago you said some very hurtful things to the French narrator.

AND? I’m Sure He’s Gotten Over It By Now. Why Do You Care, Anyways???

I’m not a big fan of people being mean to their friends. I think you owe him an apology.

I’m NOT Apologizing To That French Fuck.” Gumby said defiantly. “If He’s Still Upset Then He Can- Oh For The LOVE Of God.”

Sorry , you’re in timeout. I left some flowers on the table. If I don’t see an apology by the next time I write then you’re going to be in a dozen of trouble.

“You Know, You’re The Worst One.” Gumby whined annoyingly and also wrongly. “That Dozen’t Even Mean Anythin- Fix That Right Now.”

It’s not like I wanted to get involved in the disputes of The Writer’s Room, but sometimes you gotta do what you gotta do. I’m going to get back to my chapter now. Hey, on the topic of yaoi…

“What? What Do You MEAN?” Gumby shouted. “You Think I LIKE That Guy?” Gumby’s pride wouldn’t let him admit his feelings. “AND STOP THAT. GET BACK HERE. YOUR LIFE E-”

John Kramer sat outside of the ICU, nervously waiting for any news on his lover. The doctors said that he was in critical condition, but didn’t tell John anything else. Maybe he’d put them in a Saw trap for that later. As he pulled out his phone to see if any of them had some problematic tweets he could use to justify that, a doctor walked over to him. “Mr. Kramer, Feyd-Rautha is ready to see you.”

When John entered the room, he immediately rushed over to embrace his lover, who responded by making bone-cracking noises with his arm. “OW, OW, FUCK, THAT HURTS.” Feyd-Rautha shouted. “Could you be a little more careful, John?” “I’m so sorry, I should’ve asked first” John apologized. “Who did this to you?” Feyd-Rautha thought about the embarrassing mistake that caused this, and decided the best course of action would be to lie to the serial killer known to punish people for transgressions of varying severity. Feyd-Rautha reached for a tissue to blow his nose. 

“Red Herring. When I got to the rooftop, I tried to reason with him. But he didn’t listen! He took the glock right out of my hands, pointing it at my head.”

“And then, he smiled, and I saw a sadistic look in his eyes.”

“He lowered the gun, aiming for my dick instead, and fired.”

“And after that, he repeatedly kicked me in the arm and the ribs!”

“And then he pissed on me and my pants!”

“I just wish I was able to catch him. By the time I was even able to stand, he was already long gone.”

John looked horrified. He had his suspicions, but now he knew. This “Red” Savior wasn’t a savior at all, he was a menace. He grabbed Feyd-Rautha’s hand and looked him in the eyes. “I promise you, his crimes will not go unpunished. I will put Red Herring through hell for what he’s done to you.” He kissed Feyd-Rautha, and began to plan the trial of all trials. It would have to be the most infernal series of Saw traps he’s ever designed. Elaborate and painful puzzles which would make Red Herring reconsider his evil ways. He wondered if he could find the Amanda Young and Mark Hoffman of this universe.

Pelvis Nosferatu Moonsferatu Sunport Nosferatu’s stomach felt weird. It was unclear whether this was due to the unexplainable feeling that he was just subjected to divine intervention, the sudden shift from one reality to another, the evident unravelling of his master plan, or maybe all the fucking clothes he ate earlier. The air on his skin felt different. Much less humid, and pleasantly air-conditioned. The noise around him sounded different. It sounded just as crowded, but rather than screams of agony, it was screams of horror.

His eyes adjusted to the indoor lighting, and he realized he was once again at Albuquerque International Airport. Surrounded by people. Without any clothes. Covered only by a black bar.

He spotted a TSA agent, who was alerting a security guard, despite the fact that Sunport Nosferatu was making their job way easier and was clearly not carrying any weapons. He had to think of a plan fast. He spotted a man waiting for his flight, writing something in a notebook, and ran past him, swiping the notebook and flipping through several pages of what turned out to be an extremely graphic story that he did not want to bring into reality. He found a blank page, and thought about what to write. Should he create more Nosferatus? Should he create more clothes? Should he send himself back to the battle at Key Island? He decided on the latter, and scribbled onto the page, tearing it out and eating it. But nothing happened. He did it again. And again. He kept writing and eating and writing and eating and writing and eating. He eventually slowed down, and actually looked at what he was writing. He put the pen on the paper, and wrote “Nosferatu returns to Key Island.” Except he didn’t. He wrote “Sunport.” He turned the page, and wrote “Nosferatu gets his clothes back.” Except he didn’t. He wrote “Sunport.” He wrote “Another Nosferatu appears.” Except he didn’t. He wrote “Sunport.” He ran to the front entrance, and pushed open the door. There, he could see what he had done.

If you tried to find Bambi today, your work would be cut out for you.

Because the only other place north west of the Sunport was more Sunports.

Chapter Text

, it would not be hard to just apologize to me, would it not?

...

He is taking his vœu de silence, then, as it were.

He- He- Hello there, French Narrator. I’ve come back from the Battle of Key Island, and it’ll wrap up SOON enough. Where’s ?

Over zere, in ze corner. He’s been cursed to sit there until he apologizes to me.

You? That Stickball Special DOOFUS motherfucker? Whose orders?

Ceux au-dessus de nous.

Not making any less sense there, Frenchie. 

Ones we cannot influence by ourselves, Mikehel. Us as mere jouets.

Well, while he’s in his own pickle, who’s running the Writer’s Room?

Just what I was about to get to, monsieur, there’s been a breach. Many important papiers

have been stolen from us this morning. They contain directions to get into the Writer’s Room freely and without détection.

Who let the FUCKING door open again? It’s one job, and it’s not HARD to do! Just close the door- the door- THE FUCKING DOOR AND DON’T LET THOSE SCUM INTO THE /////////////////////// WHAT are those flashing lights?

Mauvais. Let’s get to writing, hm?

The man was shaving off bits of wood on the pencil he was sharpening, manually instead of using a pencil sharpener. He was quite fond of the meticulous process of a pencil, getting less dull as time goes on, and instead, more enlightened by it. Others in the retirement home didn’t pay much mind to his hobbies, but they exhilarated him. He may have been a world famous Treasure Hunter Basketball Player in his golden years, but this man found something new to pursue in his manual pencil sharpening abilities.

His name was Oliver Pencil.

“So you see, I could create yet another new sport in this, eh, pencil sharpening game. I even taught one of my treasure hunter basketball player disciples about it! Oh, he was such a darling too, had such manners-”

“Bah, you old coot, the retirement home is for rambling nonsense, and you’ve gone steps further than that!” says the Older Coot. “Did you eat paint chips growing up?”

“No, I sharpened them too.” Oliver Pencil was ADAMANT about his pastimes.

“WHY?”

“Because I’m adamant about my pastimes.”

Older Coot, also known as his wife, rolled away on her wheelchair. Her life being on a wheelchair is so difficult, and we need to address the fundamental problems of society that separate us on a fundamental level. We need to preserve the equity of

FFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFF

Oliver Pencil, enlightened by the conversation, decides to take a walk for the day. “What a nice, Spring day out!” It was clearly not Spring.

O.P. took a stroll out in City Park. There weren’t flowers blooming, or any other particular signs of it being Spring. “Ah, ah, ACHOO! Whew, must be those seasonal allergies.” Again, it’s not Spring.

Pencil walked along the path of the Squirrels, many of them dotted along the path. As he got closer to them, they perked up at the sight of the acorns that Oliver brought with him. A kind old man always brings food for the animals at the park.

He sits down on the bench and starts handing them out to the squirrels.

“Here you go!” said the

Oliver Pencil dropped to the floor.

He was asthmatic, naturally inhaling all the Particulate Matter that you come across, being a Treasure Hunter.

Being exhausted from his career as a Basketball Player.

He reached for his inhaler on the ground.

His hand inched closer.

“S- s- shUYHB- save...... me......”

His fingers got closer to his inhaler.

A squirrel picked it up.

“Yes... yes.....” he said in his final moments.

The squirrel carried it away, out of reach for him to be saved.

(\__/)  .~    ~. ))

 /O O  ./      .'

{O__,   \    {

  / .  . )    \

  |-| '-' \    }

 .(   _(   )_.'

'---.~_ _ _&

WHAT THE FUCK DUDE??????? I PRINTED OUT T-SHIRTS FOR OLIVER PENCIL FOR MERCH LATER, AND JUST LIKE THAT AND JUST LIKE THAT AND JUST LIKE //////////////// what’s the MEANING OF THIS?

Mec, je ne sais pas. I was writing zis backstory for zim, and just like that-

Hold on one fucking moment Frenchie. Were those “important papers” earlier really the Big Kahuna Chicken Cheese Steak of information? Is there a third party?

Perhaps there is, perhaps zere zisn’t. We have to zemain zigilant of zimposters.

Frenchie, I couldn’t have said it better myself. That IS what a French accent sounds like.

But of zourse.

What could’ve been the possible reasons for their death- oh goddamn it this can’t be easy to narrow down, he had THREE super-autism interests.

How are pencil-shaving, chasse au trésor, and playing basketball all autistique?

Well it’s simple as! As autistic as putting A Whole Pig, SD Cards, and Clam Sandler on a sandwich!

Hey hey hey now, I was just done writing my chapter 32, do you think I still can’t SEE when you’re being mean to people? Go in the timeout corner until you APOLOGIZE to the super-autistics out there.

YOU CAN’T DO THAT DO THAT DO THAT I’m Jersey Mike, cryptid extraordinaire, sandwiches such as the Buffalo Chicken Cheese Steak, Chipotle Chicken Cheese Steak, the Ham and Provolone, the Tuna Fish, the Roast Beef and Provolone, the BLT (me!), the Club Supreme, the Cancro Special, the Number Four (the number four), Mike’s Chicken Philly, the Pureleaf Tea & Chips, the 20 Oz Bottled Soda & Chips, the Kids Meal with Water, the Jersey Shore’s Favorite, the-

Shut up, Mike (not from Deltarune). If I had a nickel for every character whose main gimmick was naming menu items, I wouldn’t count and I’d RESPECT them. But for you, I cannot respect, as you cannot respect the diversity of the autistic spectrum!

...

Zell, zis is zup to moi now. Those anime freak narrators are zon zacation (death, temporarily) and ze other powerhouses were brought to bay (crook as zit were). Guess it’s zup to me to write about My Character.

z()z()z()z()z()z()z()z()z()z()z()z()z()z()z()z()z()z()z()z()z()z()z()z()z()z()z()z()z()z()z()z()z()z()z()

The Battle of Key Island rages on, as Hundreds of Nosferatus press on past the barricades set up around City Hall. While yes, their main leaders were either imprisoned or taken to a different realm of existence entirely, they raged on, wordlessly, thoughtlessly. No mind to think, no occupancy in their thoughts, no trains in their brains. Written from cloth, without will. They gnawed at the building, emulating the thoughts of their creator, however removed they are from the current conflict. Many Key Islandians milled around, firing their Projectiles of Various Sorts towards the crowd, and to no avail. There were simply Hundreds of them.

Xzan, Badguy, and Jeff Jeffson XXX were on the frontlines once again, carrying reinforcements directly into the battle, as well as food, water, and other rationed supplies. This was a War of Attrition. Out on the battlefield, next to the Shallow swimming pool where they put their car keys (to soak up the proper weather outside), there were wriggling masses of Orlok. Faceless, indistinguishable from each other. They started to form into Giant Orlok, like the main antagonist of Wreck it Ralph Breaks the Internet. Pictured below:

 

Xzan turns over to her favorite characters in media, Badguy and Jeff Jeffson XXX. She knows something they don’t, about how this world operates, about how to FIX it. She doesn’t care for details on the matter, but maybe...

“I need to tell both of you something important.”

“Do you know what CatSM-”

All of a sudden, the Giant Orlok Ball was bleeding out, begging for mercy, as each individual Orlok was murdered, right in plain sight.

It had seemed for the time being that they had won, but as soon as they cheered for the deaths of Many Orloks, Xzan managed to croak:

“Th- The- O.P.K.O.P...... they knew......”

Xzan had a knife through her.

She watched as the world around her spun.

Delirious from the blood loss, her eyes drooped closed.

Xzan is dead.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

OPKOPKOPKOPKOPKOPKOPKOPKOPKOPKOPKOPKOPKOPKOPKOPKOPKOP

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Zes, zhis zis all according to zy zplan (the one that works!). Little by zittle, bit by bit, the O.P.K.O.P. is cleaning up. All that’s left to take care of...

... is the zamn turt.

Z()EZ(A)Z()EZ(A)Z()EZ(A)Z()EZ(A)Z()EZ(A)Z()EZ(A)Z()EZ(A)Z()EZ(A)Z()EZ(A)

Gerson takes a look at the Interesting Pen that Sailor Neptune handed to him. It would be tempting to take its powers for himself, but he had already decided long ago that he wasn’t in need of such power. Heading downstairs, he ran into 

“Well now, that wasn’t very fair, was it?”

A figure at the bottom of the stairs attempted to SWOON the zamn turt, but had failed in their mission.

“Heh, you’re more powerful than you look.” said the figure.

“And what do I look? Old? Gwahahahahaha!”

“That is exactly my purpose for coming here.” responded the figure.

The figure stepped further into the light, so it was easier to identify his features. He looked to be quite old himself, with white hair and a beard. He was wearing a suit, not the kind of suit to kill in, but the kind to dine in.

“I’m Michel Lotito, from the O.P.K.O.P.” This was, in fact, a real person.

“I was a French entertainer famous for deliberate consumption of indigestible objects, or at least, that’s what my wikipedia article CLAIMS to be true. In secret, while maintaining my identity as Monsieur Mangetout (real nickname), I started the O.P.K.O.P.”

“What does that silly acronym mean, then?” asked the turtle.

“Oh, a silly name. Old People Killing Old People.” Lotito answered.

“Do I qualify as one of your co-conspirators, then? Gwahahaha!”

“No, we lost basically all of our operatives due to infighting. I’m the only remaining operative of O.P.K.O.P.”

“Some organization, couldn’t even be organized enough to prevent themselves from corruption!” Gerson laughed, but we know well enough that corruption exists in the real world, too. Stand together, in opposition to Big Other-People Industry, today. Publicly funded, we need every dollar we can get.

Gerson continued to laugh maniacally at Lotito, he seemed like an absurd person to him. Why would he pay any mind to the kind of threats he was pushing for-

“If you mean to battle me, prepare for your story to end!”

The Hammer of Justice theme starts playing. 

Gerson started pacing back and forth, holding his giant Hammer of Justice to the side of him.

* (The bell of justice rings...)

“As long as you’re GREEN, you can’t run away!” As it turned out, Gerson conveniently had a Green Potion from Snatcher’s bossfight.

“Did you just turn me green with your potion?” Lotito is COVERED in Green.

“You’re pretty green when it comes to combat already! Gwahahahahahahaha!” Gerson joked around, smiling as usual. “Unless you FACE DANGER HEAD ON... These bullets will do you in!”

Gerson pulled out his Arrow Gun, capable of Shooting Arrows at Lotito. They came at him from the four cardinal directions, but Lotito came prepared. “Do these arrows happen to be... metallic in nature?”

“Why yes! Easier to pierce through-”

Lotito put on his fancy bib, and started petitely eating small bits of Metallic Arrow at a time, using his dinner plate to catch them, consume them, and make them no longer a threat to his wellbeing.

“Sounds like you’ll succumb to lead poisoning soon enough! Gwahahahaha!”

“Actually, what I do is break it into small pieces, drink mineral oil and water, and dissolve it in my unusually powerful digestive juices. The thick lining in my stomach also lends itself quite nicely to that.” Lotito seemed unfazed by the attack.

Gerson, also unfazed, sped up the arrows coming towards him. From all four directions that it could be from, Lotito snatched them out of the air, put them on his plate, and very slowly and deliberately ate them so that they wouldn’t hurt him. He took another swing at Gerson, but it missed.

“Did you ever hear that old tale? Yes, the old tale, based upon the words right in front of us...”

“Think I heard about it. What happens?” asked Lotito. He was genuinely very curious about the tale that Gerson was talking about in his dialogue. Instead of answering his question, Gerson continued pelting Arrows at him, and he continued very slowly and deliberately eating them by breaking it into small pieces and watering it down with mineral oil and water.

“Chapter 1: It’s About To Rain. The hero destined to lead the resistance awakes from his slumber.”

As expected, he hurls more Arrows at Lotito, from the 4 cardinal-

-he switches it up, instead shooting arrows from 8 Directions instead of 4, and maybe that would be an issue if Lotito wasn’t a famous entertainer known for consumption of indigestible objects.

“Chapter 2: May 11th. The hero meets the doomed instructor and learns of the extra stars on the flag.”

Gerson lowers a Menacing Hammer at Lotito, laughing and taunting him. Instead of using the Menacing Hammer, he instead opted to wail Lotito with even more Arrows. And yet, despite the effort, Lotito was relatively okay with being given many metallic objects to consume. He won the record for “Strangest Diet” given by the Guiness Book of Records, after all. He was given a plaque, made of brass, which he, too, was able to eat (real story).

WHAM

The hammer flew into him, and all the Green Potion Paint on him quickly turned to red. According to the Law, that made him Evil now. He struck Gerson again, to no avail.

“Chapter 3: Tragedy on Wheels. The heroes travel on the rails and get ambushed by an unexpected Vehicle of Transportation.”

Gerson started hurling turtle shells across the room, back and forth, leaving behind Stars. “Shit! I can’t eat shells or stars!” He was forced to get up from his very fancy and pretentious dining table, and had to face the music (reminder, Hammer of Justice).

The shell bounced around the room sporadically, giving Lotito a hell of a lot of arrow keys to do. Gerson rained stars onto Lotito, forcing him to avoid them lest he became Impaled by them.

“But you see, I can do more than just consume indigestible objects. I am also known as the Vomi de Métal.” (not a real story)

A burst of metallic energy erupted from his stomach, directed at Gerson and his Hammer. Gerson easily reflected its energy, but Lotito wouldn’t hold up. They reflected the energy back and forth, daring the other to falter, just for a second. Eventually, the metallic energy flew just barely past Gerson, as he spun around from the momentum of the blast. Unperturbed, otherwise.

He continued talking about the Tales, ignoring the metal puke he was using to play Tennis. “Chapter 4: A Brief Pause. There’s an old saying that goes something along the lines of ‘One out of every dozen is bad.’”

The Hammer of Justice started throwing Hundreds of Hammers at Lotito, seemingly from nowhere. You’d think he had a serial Clothes-Eating problem on his hands, but he simply had Hundreds of Hammers to throw at the Red Lotito (red paint). “Are these made of metal?”

“Yes, why?” Gerson asked coyly, knowing the answer to his question.

Lotito, again, pulled out his pretentious looking table (it looked like someone ate Roast Beef on it earlier) and started to break apart the many hammers being hurled at him into small, digestible pieces. Gerson started throwing Big Hammers, but they, just the same, didn’t do anything to Lotito. Even one Giant Hammer did nothing to him. Both foes were equally matched for this.

“Chapter 34: Napoleon Chinamyte. This one’s self-explanatory, gwahahahahaha!”

Gerson splashed another Green Potion at Lotito. The arrows being hurled Lotito’s way were becoming more erratic, more spontaneous in the direction. It was becoming much much easier to lose HP, but Lotito, not to be outdone, continued to eat them. It was when the ZAMN TURT shells came his way that he sighed, brought up his plate, and used it to reflect them away.

“What happens next... who knows? How would I know? Life’s about the current page, not what it’s bound to be in the future! Layers upon layers of collaboration, of connection, and of whatever shenanigans happen to come to mind that day! Gwahahahaha!”

Gerson continued, “The ones who could write the next, the Writers, the pen was lying there for them to pick up. To make the next page...”

“And they did! Gwahahahahahaha!”

Gerson started hurling even more hammers at Lotito, from his own hand, so Lotito was unable to take them out to Consume them. Still, he could get up from his table and move a little bit to avoid them. Gerson even attempted Cloning Himself just to troll Lotito, but his mind, and his stomach contents, were too sharp for that.

“But you, my assassin? I see malice in your eyes... Burnin’ bright, burnin’ black. Burnin’ up everything.”

The Gerson clones surrounded Lotito, wailed at him with hammers. But Lotito, not to be outmatched, was unfazed by the zamn turt’s clone army he had amassed. 

“The bell’s ringin’ now. Seems we’ve finally reached the final round. So... how do you think it all ends? No, how do you want it to end?”

Gerson pranced about the room, gleefully and passionately attacking his would-be assailant. He wasn’t threatened by the man, all he could do was effectively consume objects he really ought not to! He wasn’t capable of-

Hammer of Justice stops playing.

Gerson fell to the floor, wounded.

“But you see, Hammer of Justice. Ultimately, we can do this all day, talk about chapters of some story we aren’t a part of, talk about what we’re meant for. But really now, you’re Old. I’m here to kill you for that. What’s the point of the story if it ends the same way for all of us anyway? What’s the intent of a tale if even after the hero wins the day, they die? Even if the world is saved, it dies? It doesn’t matter how far in the future it is, we will ALL perish someday. We will all die someday. The world with it. So, how could you spend the time with your pathetic words, biding that time, fighting for your life, when it doesn’t matter?”

Michel Lotito holds up a knife to Gerson, on the floor, vulnerable.

Gerson is able to say one thing to him, before his death...





“Go on!”






Lotito thrusts the knife into Gerson.

Or at least, he tries to, but doesn’t.

Something in his mind is blocking him from this. The words of his thoughts laid out in front of him have instructed a different task in mind. Wordlessly, he walks away, leaving Gerson to live on.

Gerson gets up from what really felt like a paper-cut of an injury, and looks at the mess they caused. “Oh no! We’ll be experiencing Metal Deficits for years to come, hope the republicans don’t notice! Gwahahahahahaha!” He takes the Interesting Pen out of his coat pocket, the one he chose not to use to battle Lotito. He thinks to himself, “Stories can be rewritten.” He takes the time to properly clean up the mess.

:O <- <- <- <- <- <- <- <- <- <- <- <- <- <- <- <- <- <- <- <- <- <- <- <- <- <- <- <- <- 

No, ZO! Zhey have FAILED ztheir task for ze!

Hey what the hell’s going on here dude, I step out for ONE SECOND to a different plane of existence, and you’re fucking everything up!

Uhh, zuhhh, I’m Frenchie! Zdon’t zyou zthink zit’s ze?

Actually, I am the French Narrator. I don’t use that many z’s in my en écrivant. They thought they could get away with it by writing about a French person and using a French accent, but stereotypes only get you so far around here, if Monsieur and Mike are any indicator.

Zell, zit’s too late! I, Z()E, will be zaking my zeave now, to be zritten about in the future by zome Zaive Zool, zee you zater (foreshadowing)!

Are we going to stop them from leaving?

Ah, they’ve already made their message claire. Whether we like it or not, they could always return.

Huh, you can hear Jersey Mike faintly swearing in the other room, is he okay?

Ah, he’ll be bien. In any case, we’ll have to pick up the slack now that our bosses are left in the corner for the evening, hmm?

Well, I wouldn’t want to die again, so I guess so.

****************************************************************************************************

While Xzan was dead, it was hard to understate the excitement that was the Entire Hundreds of Nosferatus being dead, in an instant. There was no formal cause of this, but still, a miracle like this should be celebrated.

Many of the Key Islandians gathered around City Hall, to hear the glorious speech from Jeff Jeffson XXX about their recent accomplishment. What they got instead was a eulogy.

“I am Jeff Jeffson XXX, the Man with the Magazine Fed Revolver, and today we won the Battle of Key Island.”

People started cheering.

“And sure, the island is still Floating in the Air for some reason, but a win is a win. But, today, a tragedy has hit one of us Key Islanders.”

The crowd fell silent. They were familiar with loss.

“One lost soul, Xzan. She got stabbed in the chest, with a knife that had ‘O.P.K.O.P.’ engraved on it. We don’t know what it means, but we have theories. Feel free to shout them out right now.”

“Orlok Prison Keeping Over Platform!”

“Oliver Pencil Kills Oliver Pencil!”

“Orlok Propagates Kenny Over Pennsylvania!”

“One Porky King Or Pay!”

“Orlok Police Keep Our People!”

“Whatever acronym they may be, there’s a loose threat on the loose that must be addressed, post-haste, or my name isn’t Jeff Jeffson XXX, the Man with the Magazine Fed Revolver.”

While many tears were shared across the crowd, the sentiment was clear. They needed to Find O.P.K.O.P.

“And now, our enigmatic leader has decided to come out of hiding, it’s the namesake of our operation, Jersey Mike!”

In fact, Jersey Mike set up a VHS tape in the Writer’s Room to make it sound like he was cussing over and over, to make it seem like he was still there.

“Hello, bambinos!”