Dedicated to Kitty

Marshall focused his eyes on the Albuquerque desert he found himself in. The sun was beating down on him yet he did not sweat. He barely registered the heat on his face. The liquid horizon showed him the way he needed to go. Looking around, he saw no other option other than jumping off the cliff behind him. He looked down at himself and noticed he was in his jeans and a wife-beater top that was smeared with dirt. Even though he did not feel thirsty, he craved water and began his haggard march forward in hopes of finding civilization.

The sand was searing beneath his bare feet and he had never longed so much for his boots as he did then. His hair was becoming matted against his face; yet he still did not sweat. Marshall became more concerned that he was so dehydrated that there was nothing to sweat out. This though gave him more determination to keep moving forward.

Every step seemed like it took hours to take but eventually he saw an oasis in the distance. With a renewed sense of vigor he began to frantically make his way towards it. He had just about reached it when he felt a white hot pain against his back. The blast sent him to the ground; his face hitting the sand head on. Marshall pushed himself up onto his hands and knees and shook his head while wiping the sand from his face. Shaking, he stood up and spun around to face his attacker. He saw no one. Thinking he had imagined it, he turned back to the oasis. A cackle was heard from behind him. He spun back around; dizziness from the lack of hydration and sudden movement sending him onto his heels. He quickly regained his balance and focused his eyes to the sky.

There, silhouetted by the white hot sun was the figure of a man floating about 20 feet off the ground. The man continued to laugh at him as he descended from his invisible perch. Marshall rubbed his eyes in disbelief and squinted his eyes to get a better look at the man's face. His expression turned towards hatred as he realized it was Mike Faber.

What an unexpected sight it was. Not only was Faber hovering above Marshall's head but his hair was darker and spiky. It had lost the salt and pepper effect it had and was the color of the deepest black. He had his arms folded and he cocked his head to Marshall's right. Marshall followed the movement and saw for the first time the reason Faber was laughing at him.

Mary was chained to a rock; her head bowed in unconsciousness. Her hair fell over the top of her head and her body was stripped save for some rags keeping her semi-modest. Otherwise, her body was exposed to the elements. Marshall forgot his tormentor for a moment as he began to make his way over to her to check her vitals. A blast of fire stopped him in his path. Angrily, he looked back up at non-Faber.

"What do you want?" he shouted.

"I want many things," Faber sneered back at him, "on the top of my list is your death!" Marshall noticed a ball of energy charging between his hands and immediately kept on his path to help Mary. His effort was futile as the ball of energy crashed into his side and caused his body to fly several feet in the other direction. Again, he forced himself back to his feet and wiped his arm across his brow as he stared down his opponent. His heart lifted when he noticed that non-Faber didn't seem interested in harming Mary. Marshall gulped as non-Faber touched down to the ground with no effort whatsoever and began a slow walk towards Marshall.

Marshall took a deep breath and tried to figure out how to get him and his partner out of this situation relatively unharmed. He began to clench and unclench his fists with the rhythm of his breath and began to feel an unearthly power flow through his veins. He felt his skin stretch where his muscles seemed to grow bigger and an eerie light draped across his vision. He began to walk towards non-Faber with a menacing grin.

They both stopped walking when they were about ten feet apart. Staring into each others eyes with hate, they both waited for the other to make the first move. Marshall's ears pricked up at the slight sound of Mary regaining consciousness. That was enough for non-Faber to attack. Marshall's slight distraction became the opening he needed to begin the fight.

Marshall's head whipped back just in time to see non-Faber approaching him at breakneck speed. He kicked his body into action and began his own advancement. Their bodies collided with earth shattering force and immediately they were lost in a flurry of kicks and punches. Barely any pain registered as Marshall's focus was on getting this mother fucker what had been coming to him. After what seemed like hours, they pushed away from each other simultaneously. It was then that Marshall noticed that he too, was hovering above the desert surface. He shook out of his momentary reverie as a disc of light flashed in front of his face before making its way towards non-Faber. Non-Faber was able to dodge it and Marshall followed his sneer. Looking behind him, he saw Stan in a baggy orange workout suit. In a flash, Stan appeared at his side and it was then that he noticed six dots in two rows on his bald forehead.

"Go help Mary," Marshall pointed in her direction, "make sure she's okay." With a nod, Stan disappeared and reappeared at Mary's side. Marshall turned his attention back to non-Faber. More energy began to course through his veins and he felt himself growing stronger. He could almost feel his hair begin to stick straight up and lengthen. Some of it fell in front of his face and he noticed that it was getting lighter. Non-Faber had a look of disbelief on his face at Marshall's transformation. He took this opportunity to charge what felt like a really large amount of energy. Non-Faber seemed to realize what he was doing and began to charge one of his own. It seemed to take days for it to charge but once it was ready, Marshall hurled the beam of energy at his opponent. Non-Faber let his go as well and the two balls of energy collided with great force.

It took a lot of strength to keep up the force of his energy beam but he took pleasure in noting that non-Faber was having just as much difficulty. He could feel Stan's gaze fixed on him as if he was lending Marshall the strength to continue. The played reverse tug of war with the energy beams; sometimes Marshall's would slightly overpower the other, sometimes non-Faber's would get stronger. What seemed like hours later, Marshall heard Mary's voice in his head, You're stronger than him, the voice told him. She continued to offer him words of encouragement and telling him to kick non-Faber's ass. Marshall had long since stopped questioning everything that was going on. Mary's words were just the right amount of encouragement he needed to give one last burst of energy into his beam. Non-Faber let out a piercing shriek as the beam of light engulfed him. That was the last thing Marshall saw before everything went black.

He was awoken by someone shaking his shoulders. He opened his eyes and was met with the sight of Mary's face silhouetted by flickering light.

"Are you okay?" Marshall was frantic. He began checking her pulse on her neck and feeling her forehead. Mary wrestled his arms away and pinned him to the couch.

"It's me who should be asking that," she spoke sternly yet softly, "you were thrashing about and yelling incoherently. That must have been some nightmare you had." Marshall refocused his eyes and looked over her shoulder to the source of the flickering light. He saw animated images of spiky haired men fighting each other. He sighed. Mary followed his line of sight and her face softened to the look he got when she was teasing him. "Oh, did the big bad cartoons frighten poor widdle Marshall?" She pouted her lips mockingly and spoke in a condescending tone. Marshall reached up, grabbed her shoulders, and flipped her beneath him and began to tickle her mercilessly. She laughed until she was able to hoarsely cry out "Uncle!" Only then, did he relent and he settled back to finish watching his late night cartoons with Mary snuggled against his side.