A/N Various items I do not own, in no particular order: Superman, Batman, Spiderman, my house, my clothes, my computer, Mario, The Mushroom kingdom, Ganondorf, Tabuu, Sonic, Bowser, The Master Chief, The Halo Rings, Eragon, Solid Snake, an orbital laser, toast, my soul, sunlight, Link, Zelda, Luigi, Shadow, Omega, Cackletta, Ridley, and Captain Falcon.

However I do own: The Moon, which I have a royalty of .04% on for every reference. The Game, which you just lost and owe me ten dollars for entering into. and a set of dominos.

I was perfect once.

My footsteps heralded the approach of divinity, my hands brought healing and mercy, my eyes pierced infamy, my voice carried wisdom to the foolish.

I was the flagbearer of righteousness; no cause that I joined could fail.

I was the fashioner of divine tools: master of a thousand crafts.

I was the knight of shining armor; defining poem, ballad, and haiku.

I was the hero who descended into the darkness; led light where there was none.

I was the champion of endless battles; the sword that bore my hand would not shatter.

I was the consort of kings, emperors, and legends.

I was the one who made paths straight, and comforted the distraught in their woe.

To me did the champions rally: the orphaned, the abused, the loveless, and the morally lost.

Upon me was the pivot of the ages; the wheels of fate were chained to my will.

But alas, I was, and they were not.

Subspace was alive.

Not sentient, but alive. Like an animal, feeling but not comprehending what was around it.

The darkness twitted and scrabbled, blue and purple cavorting together with the atmosphere of a guilty act amongst the shadows. Lightning cartwheeled as a third party. Freed from the bounds of gravity, it clung together in bars of white iron, spiraling down vortexes and exploding into sheets of spiderweb.

Together they danced, convicts that would never be pursued, cavorting wildly in a bedlam that defied rational thinking and was unshackled from the bonds of structure.

Mostly.

The Animal knew but one challenger, a single speck upon its speckless garment; a thorn that refused to be removed.

lighting did not touch its worn buildings, purple and blue did not reflected off of its motionless structures, darkness could not stifle its light. In a maelstrom of madness, it was an oasis of sanity. A place where the rules of the universe vacationed and took refuge from the darkness.

A castle were another chaos reigned, were other darkness lingered.

This darkness did not speak of its status. It did not whisper of its brilliance or worth. It did not have need for titles or recognition. The noise from the outside disappeared; the chaos of the storm violently hushed; snapped it into order by the darkness' voiceless power.

It was totally silent, for it was thinking.

And waiting.