Deus Ex Machina
A/N: I was rewatching some episodes a while ago, and Dan's line about serving Nemesis made me laugh. But, given the general craziness of the series... What if it was true? The idea bugged me long after I'd forgotten the episode in question, and eventually developed into a story... Hence this fic.
Written for the amusement of us fans, no money is being made off it. Dan, Chris, and all other Dan VS. characters are the property of their creators and/or the Hub. Nemesis is mythological and therefore public domain.
Chris had always known that his friend Dan had a flair for the dramatic. Who else would go to such lengths against ninjas, over cookies? And he often made references to literature and mythology, to the point that Chris could somewhat accurately guess the plots to stories he'd never read (not that Chris was, you know, illiterate or something, he just never got around to reading much), simply based on the context in which Dan referred to them.
"Which brings me to my current predicament", he thought, clutching his wounded friend tightly to his chest.
He thought that Dan had been his usual melodramatic self when he said that he served the goddess Nemesis. Heck, he'd even thought that Dan was making up the goddess' existence, until he made a Boogle search of Greek legends. But now, as the Grecian Goddess of Divine Vengeance Herself towered over him, he wasn't so sure. She grinned toothily at him (oh my God...dess... she even has the same teeth as Dan!). He recognized that expression, even on the face of a glowing, seven-meter tall Mediterranean woman: It was the same one Dan got when his vengeful scheming had come to fruition, and people ran screaming in all directions. And all this time, Chris had thought the phrase "The gods smile on us" was a happy one. He really should have known better.
Earlier that day...
"CHRIIIIIIIIISSS!" The half-Canadian flinched, dropping his eight quarts of olive-and-cheese salad... thing that he had bought to snack on. It was healthy! There wasn't even any meat it it! Dried tomatoes and sunflower seeds with garlic olive oil topped off the deliciously salty dish... and now, it was decorating the carpet. "Why is it always when I'm eating?" He mused, scooping the food back into its container.
"CHRIS! I NEED YOU TO HELP ME DESTROY THEM! QUIT STUFFING YOUR PIEHOLE AND COME TO MY AID!"
"Yeah, Dan, I'll be right there... um, actually, can it wait until tomorrow, Elise wants to have movie night-"
"Oh, we all know what that's code for! Traitor!" Sometimes Chris wondered if Dan took the Bro Code (and their friendship) just a little too seriously.
"Come on, we've had it planned for a week, please?" His phone buzzed, and he checked it. A text from Elise read 'Mild workplace emergency, not going to be home until late tonight, ttyl'. He groaned. There was no escape now. "Be right there, Dan." Now he was beginning to wonder why the intrusive little man hadn't already come up through the floor or something...
He opened the front door, where Dan had been knocking furiously. It must have been with his head- someone had actually managed to get a strait-jacket and some chains on him, and his feet were shackled together. Dan lost his tenuous balance and fell face-first into Chris' house.
"How did you get here?" Chris looked around for any sort of vehicle, stepped outside and looked on the roof just in case it was a plane, and dragged Dan to the garage. Dan ranted and raved incoherently as Chris sawed through the locks, and the instant the chains were gone Dan squeezed himself free of the jacket. Okay, Chris was definitely making sure to stay on Dan's good side forever. Once on his List was bad enough...
"...the injustice of it all! Chris, are you even listening?" Dan concluded.
"Uh, could you repeat that first part, Dan, I didn't catch that." Dan threw up his hands in frustnoyance (Chris had a whole vocabulary of Dan's moods, most of them different flavors of angry) and growled like a feral cat. No offense meant to Mr. Mumbles.
"Never mind! It'll take too long! Just meet me at my place in four hours with the things on this list!" Dan shoved said list into Chris's hands. It read:
Operation YOLO-Punk
1) Butter (4 cups)
2) Jumper cables
3) 57 rats (the WILD ones, no pets)
4) Seriously, why would anyone want pet rats? Tell them to take the ones in my apartment if they like them so much.
5) Motor oil
6) A bottle of Absinthe
7) A better name for my vengeance.
Chris sighed. It was going to be a long day.
Later...
"Fifty-Three, Fifty-Four, Fifty-Five... Aw, Come on! We're short two!" Dan ran around, looking for any missing rodents. "All I asked was for you to go alone into the dank, filthy sewers and capture fifty-seven disease-ridden rats! Is that really so much to ask for? Is it?"
Chris sure thought so. "Dan, does it really matter if we're missing two? Couldn't we use the ones in your apartment?" He paused for a moment. "On that note, how bad is your rat infestation?"
"It's not an infestation, Chris, they're free-range cat food-slash-toys for Mr. Mumbles," Dan said somewhat condescendingly. "To supplement her standard fare, of course. Besides, they eat the roaches. It's a whole ecosystem in here. A delicate balance. A circle of life, if you will."
"Uhh..." Chris' mind refused to continue down that metaphorical path through the horrifying implications.
"Let's get started! Chris, I need you to melt the butter and mix it with the absinthe, I'll get the explosives."
"Alrighty then."