It was high noon on yet another scorching day for what remained of the world, when a man with a bag over his head was being dragged across the pavement, carried with a hand under each arm by Nathan Fillion and Clint Eastwood.
"Jesus Christ, are we nearly there yet? 'Cause my knees are killing me." The man beneath the hood spoke gruffly, as though being bound and dragged was nothing more than an annoyance.
"I think you'll make the last of the journey just fine." Emily Deschanel said, walking behind them, seemingly putting a great deal of effort into not smashing the hooded man's head in with the baseball bat she carries in one hand.
"And what'll happen to me when it is over?"
"Well that's not really up to us." Nathan Fillion said as he and Eastwood stopped and pulled the man up onto his knees. Fillion removes the bag from the man's head. "It's up to her." But the man can't see, it takes him a few moments for his eyes to adjust in the light.
When they do he finds himself looking at some steps, so he lifts his gaze further to see three women. On the left was Natalie Portman, her face showing nothing but disgust and contempt for him - wearing jeans, shirt and a jacket with a sword strapped to her back. On the right was Kristen Bell, wearing cargo pants and a brown duster with a pistol strapped to the outside of her right thigh. And in the middle, sitting on what could only be described as a throne made of a thousand swords all melted together, was Emma Watson; wearing a dress torn around the hem, the axe still by her side, propped up against the throne by her right hand.
Staring up at the three women, he wasn't surprised at all that it was Portman who spoke first.
"Danny McBride." Her voice as filled with contempt as her face showed it.
"Sup bitches. Emma, I see you've done alright for yourself. Natalie, I didn't know you survived. I'm rather pleased that you did."
"Can't say the feeling is in any way mutual."
"This can't be all of them." Kristen Bell addressed Eastwood.
"No ma'am, there were about two dozen of 'em."
"And Channing Tatum. But he seemed to prefer death to being separated from this one." Fillion broke in.
"So where is he now?" Watson asked.
"He was a problem." A smaller, lighter voice said to McBride's right. He turned his head to see Chloe Grace Moretz.
"So what did you do?" Watson followed on.
"I eliminated the problem."
"Good." Watson said, looking at McBride intensely.
"You killed my bitch?" McBride said, aghast, "It's probably for the best. I was considering finding a new one anyway." Finally, McBride started to look around, to see where he was. It looked like a football stadium with a huge chunk of one stand ripped out of it, and a giant metal mesh cage taking up the middle of the field.
"What about the other?" Watson asked over McBride's head.
"We found no trace of any of them." Deschanel answered, sounding incredibly disappointed in herself.
"Franco's house had completely collapsed in on itself." Moretz said, "There was nothing left."
From what McBride could see, there were hundreds of people in the stands, some watching him, others seemed to be waiting for something. Most of them appeared to be eating. And just like that, McBride felt his stomach rumble.
It was only when Bell spoke to him that he realised how loud it had been. "I think you've eaten plenty for a lifetime."
After seeing Neil Patrick Harris playing cards with Alan Tudyk McBride turned to see all of them looking at him. "Are you sure? I don't see a hell'uva lotta guys around. You ladies called me up for some much needed dude-meat huh? Well, not to blow my own horn, but, I think I can do something for you."
For a long time there was only silence after that, with the possible exception of the fierceness of Chloe Grace Moretz' eye-roll that arguably caused as much noise as McBride's stomach had.
It was Bell who eventually broke the silence. "Yes, no, and not if my life depended on it."
"Please, if my life depends on it, don't do it." Portman broke in. "I'd rather not have that on my conscience."
"Okay, and especially not if her life depends on it."
"Enough." Watson said with an air of finality, getting to her feet, grabbing the axe and walking over to McBride, slamming the end of the axe down in front of him. "Now, the others, where are they?"
"The others? They killed them all."
"Not them."
"Oh, you mean Franco and his band of arseholes?" Watson nodded. "Oh, you don't have to worry about him, he ain't gonna have the chance to rape you ever again." McBride said it all with pride and glee, and almost as though he had done her a favour.
"Whoa, whoa whoa, hold it." Bell cut through, "James Franco raped you?"
"No, he didn't. But I got the impression that he was probably the only one who wouldn't have." she turned back to McBride. "The others?"
"I went back to Franco's after-" he cut off quickly, checking himself and transitioning into "-he died, and we found Jonah's body in the ruins, though there wasn't much left of him. And the ones that ate him went a little- off afterwards."
"You mean after they ate a corpse?" Deschanel said rhetorically.
"Hey, in these times, you do what you gotta do to fuckin' survive. Don't tell me none of you haven't even thought about it."
"I'll admit it." Bell said, "I had a couple of fleeting thoughts, before I ran into Emma anyways."
"The others?" Watson pushed on.
"Don't know what happened to Robinson. But while I was eating- just eating I saw a pair of blue beams shoot through the sky from where Jay and Seth had run off to."
"So you're trying to tell me that you're the only one left?"
"Hey, that's just the way it is."
"I don't mean to interrupt what you've got going here," Eastwood broke in, "but we did deliver as promised."
"I contracted five and only four return." Watson replied, "Where is Michelle?"
"Rodriguez?" McBride responded quizzically. "She was with you? Well that certainly explains a whole lot."
Watson looked at the four of them, and though Eastwood gave nothing away Fillion looked sad and weakened, Deschanel started crying, and Moretz looked harder – which she would not have thought possible before now. "You ate her." She didn't even look at McBride.
He laughed in response. "Of course I did. She was pretty good too." He ran his tongue over his teeth as he spoke, as though still savouring the taste, "Much more tender than that arsehole Franco, curiously, I think she had more muscle too. And those titties! Damn those titties-"
Suddenly Chloe Grace Moretz whips out a butterfly knife and in an instant the blade is against McBride's throat. "Shut your fucking mouth you cocksucker, or I'll cut off your tongue and shove it up your arse so far you'll be tasting your own shit long after you're dead."
Upon seeing Moretz threaten McBride Deschanel leans over to Fillion and whispers so only he can hear. "You remember what she was like before she was like this?"
"There was a before she was like this?" he replied incredulously.
"No." Deschanel responded sarcastically.
"You ate James Franco?" Natalie Portman asks quietly.
"Everything but the balls. I keep them in a jar of vinegar and apple juice." everyone is looking at him, an entirely new kind of disgust filling them all. "It's a pretty good snack for the road."
"Even the dick?" Kristen Bell wondered, "I've heard that guys are a little adverse to eating cock."
"Bitch, I demand that I get the dick." McBride said matter-of-factly, "nothing is more satisfying than symbolically consuming another dude's manhood. But that's just the point isn't it? Girls, welcome to the end of the world. Rules don't matter any more, trust me, the only way to live no is without rules. You do what you want, when you want, regardless of-"
McBride was cut off abruptly as Moretz slams her elbow into his face, smashing his nose so hard blood comes gushing out. With his hands bound together and lashed to his ankles, he can't do anything to cover his nose, try as he hilariously might. When he can he looks up at the young girl. She just stares him straight in the eye and says, "Something like that?"
"You little piss-ant, you know what I'm gonna fuckin' do with you?"
"What cocksucker? You'll bleed all over me?" She goes to hit him in the face again, but Fillion pulls her back and shoves her to the side.
"Look, could we hurry things along a bit?" Fillion pushed along, looking forward to being rid of McBride.
Watson slowly turns her head to Portman, "The cage." Portman smiles and walks around behind McBride, drawing a knife. Watson looks back to McBride, but speaks over her shoulder. "Tudyk!"
At the call both Tudyk and NPH stop what they are doing and pick up the large trunk they were playing cards on, bringing it over at the same time that Portman cuts the bonds at McBride's ankles and pushes him to his feet. As Portman has pushes McBride toward the cage in the middle of the field Tudyk and NPH put the trunk down in front of the group and step back. "Tudyk." Fillion nods to him.
"Muscle Man." Tudyk responds, standing up. "Seen Brain Boy?"
"Not yet."
Emily Deschanel steps forward and kneels down, opening the trunk. While Portman is pushing McBride into the cage with the tip of her knife. "Come on Nat! We had some good times on the set of Your Highness."
"You hit on me every day and tried to grope me whenever you could!"
"Like I said good times."
Watson had paid McBride no attention, still looking at the four in front of her. "Food and munitions, as agreed." Deschanel looks from their new stockpile to Fillion, who nods, and she closes the trunk again. "And of course, you're welcome to stay."
"Maybe." Eastwood says, as he walks over to Bell. He leans into her ea and whispers something that no one else can hear, handing her a piece of folded paper addressed simply to 'Smurfette'.
When he pulls away Bell grabs his arm, and with water in her eyes says, "Thank you." Eastwood nods and moves away.
"Please tell me that motherfucker is gonna die." Moretz still sounded as disgusted as before.
"Oh, you don't have to worry about that." Watson reassured her as they all turned to the cage, the door being closed behind McBride, hands and feet free from the ropes that bound him.
Suddenly, everyone in the stadium was watching what was happening, silence but for McBride stumbling around the cage, starting to climb out before Portman swipes at his hands with her sword.
Watson gestures across to the side of the stadium, where a pair of men stand beside a giant crank. The two of them get to work, turning the crank, and a box rises out of the center of the cage. McBride turns to see a large, horned, wingless demon jump out of the box and run about the edge of the cage a little bit.
"Oh fuck me!" McBride whispered, before yelling, "Fuck you all! You hear me? Fuck you all!"
The demon stalks Danny McBride around the cage, but with nowhere to go and Portman not letting him climb out, there is only one way it can possibly end. Emma Watson, Natalie Portman, Kristen Bell, Clint Eastwood, Nathan Fillion, Emily Deschanel, NPH, Alan Tudyk, Chloe Grace Moretz and a few hundred others watching on as Danny McBride is pulled down and annihilated by the demon, screaming, "I love you Hermione! I love you! Hermione! Hermione! I love you!"
In Hell, there is a massive burst of flames on a rocky outcropping and when it dies back down Danny McBride is standing there. He opens his eyes and surveys the fire, torture, and pure lack of hope that covers everything he can see.
He smiles, and declares, "Daddy's home." Suddenly he gets hit over the head with a large rock, his face smacking into the brimstone at his feet.
Standing in his place is Michelle Rodriguez. "Welcome to my world, bitch."
Meanwhile, over at the Hole.
"Bum, bum, buh-nuh, buh nou." A hand reaches up out of the Hole and grabs the grass at the edge. "Bum, bum, buh-nuh, buh nou." A second hand reaches up and grabs the grass at the rim. "Bum, bum, buh-nuh, buh noughhhhhh-bouh, nough-h-h-h-h-." The hands pull and Jason Segel appears out of the Hole, wearing sunglasses and chewing on a cigar. "On the day I was born. The nurses all gathered 'round." He swings a leg up and out. "And they gazed in wide wonder." He tries to push himself up more. "At the joy they had found." He falls back a little, but doesn't lose his grip. "The head nurse spoke up." He rolls over the edge and out of the Hole. "Said, 'leave this one alone'." He rolls over onto his hands and knees. "She could tell right away." He pushes himself up. "That I was bad to the bone. Bum, bum, buh-nuh, buh nou." He looks back into the Hole. "Bad to the bone. Bum, bum, buh-nuh, buh nou." He turns, and starts walking away, off in no direction in particular. "Bad to the bone. Bum, bmh, buh-nuh, buh nou. B-B-B-B-Bad. Bum, bum, buh-nuh, buh nou. B-B-B-B-Bad. Bum, bum, buh-nuh, buh nou. Bad to the bone..."