Title: "Queen's Gambit"
Serial Segment: Chapter 1
"Type": Crossover/Relationshipper-centric
Subtext: No. Subtext? What subtext? Never heard of the stuff. ;-)
Rating: PG [SC], [L]
Spoilers: Possible Spoilers for "The Deliverer", "Maternal Instincts", "Back in the Bottle", "In Sickness and in Hell", and "Eve"
Continuity Placement: By the necessity of certain events, this story must take place in an "alternate" Xenaverse, the main reason being that these selfsame events invalidate the majority of Season 6. At the very least "Friend In Need" cannot be worked into it. Anyway, it is valid up through the end of Season 5 at least and takes place sometime after that.
Historian's Note: No known historical inaccuracies noted.
Synapses: Joxer wakes up after his death to find himself in some ethereal realm along with a certain former DC Comics costumed vigilante.
Author's Note: I wrote the first draft of this little ditty right after Joxer's demise in April of 2000. It helped me over the pain and loss (*sob*).
The Series Finale has dictated certain continuity breaking events, but I still feel that it holds up.
In addition to that, this was the very first Fan Fiction story I'd ever written, so I suppose that's some sort of personal milestone, and always a handy excuse to explain the lack of quality in a given piece. :-)
The story is, as the Type says, a Crossover story. And while one gets the maximum amount of enjoyment out of the story by being conversant with the two "universes" involved, I do feel confident that the story is strong enough and clear enough to be understood and enjoyed by even those that *aren't* familiar with each fictional "Universe" featured.
And while on the subject of other "universes", at the time this story was written certain fates of certain characters had not been revealed as of yet. Since then these fates have, so the continuity breaches extend to the material in this other "universe" as well.
Oh, and one last, last, thing. Comments are always welcome. Even bad ones. I'm just as much a glory hound as the next guy. Remember, there's no such thing as "bad" press. ;-)
Archival Permission: Yes. But I'd like to know first. (Like anyone would *want* this tripe! ;-)
Disclaimer: All characters within are the sole property of Studios USA and/or Renaissance Pictures and AOL/Time Warner. The use of herein characters is for private use only. No infringement is intended, either expressed or implied. All rights reserved. Copyright 2003.
QUEEN'S GAMBIT
By Rupert Brown
Prologue
Cold. A cold that chills one to the marrow. Cold unlike anything before, yet tantalizingly familiar. Vacant. Silent.
All enveloping.
What was this place? How did he get here? What had happened? All these questions and more passed through Joxer's mind.
Confusion reigned as he looked himself over, as though for the first time.
"It's a kicker, ain't it? Who would have thought you'd end up spending eternity in your work clothes."
Joxer wheeled around as the voice sounded behind him.
"The name's Queen. My friends call me Ollie," said the man as he shook Joxer's hand.
"Looks like you bought it too, eh?"
Still dazed, the most Joxer could manage was a bewildered, "Huh?"
"The big dirt nap. The long sleep. Pushing up daises. A long walk off a short pier."
Joxer's eyes went wide at the implication. "You mean I'm-"
"Dead? Beats the hell out of me. One minute you're flying above Metropolis with your arm stuck in a bomb and the next,"
the man made a grand sweeping gesture, taking in the great expanse of nothingness all around them, "you're here."
"For all I know this could be the physical manifestation of someone's mind. You see some weird stuff in my line of work.
My motto's just go with the flow. What's your name?"
"J-Joxer," Joxer replied, still trying to absorb the enormity of it all.
"Joxer," the man repeated, familiarizing himself with the name. "Not any worse than 'Kal-El', that's for sure."
"You're the first person I've seen since I've been here," the man went on. "Come on, looks like you could use a bowl of
chili." And with that, he led Joxer away through the ether.
Chapter 1
Some time later (if indeed time even existed in this place, for there was no way to keep track), Joxer was rested, well fed,
and beginning to fully grasp the implications of his situation.
While mulling over his 3rd bowl of chili, Joxer studied the enigmatic stranger before him.
He was blond, of decent height. About as tall as himself, Joxer thought. Clad in what could only be described as a costume
of some sort. Not unlike anything he had seen before, but not wholly familiar either. Sort of like what Autolycus wore.
The predominate theme had to be the solid color of it all, that being green. Something like that of a woodsman, what with
the thick high boots and gloves. And perhaps that's what he was, for it would surely explain the great bow and feathered
arrows he carried upon his back.
Perhaps the most striking feature though was the Van Dyke beard he sported, along with the odd hat he roguishly wore upon his
head. At least that Joxer could readily identify. Amarice had worn one just like it when he'd first met her.
But by far, the most prominent thing about this man had to be the easy way with which he both spoke and held himself. The
attitude of one who is fully secure in their abilities, if not maybe a little vain as well. A man you could like well enough,
but on his own terms. All in all, not that much different than Xena, Joxer thought to himself.
He immediately wished he hadn't.
Thoughts of Xena opened up the flood gates of his past, and what he could only guess were the recent circumstances that led
up to his being, well, here. Wherever "here" was. And that brought home the feelings of loss, pain, and loneliness. Which
in turn brought him back to his reminiscing of how things were. It was a vicious circle.
He was so immersed in his thoughts that he didn't realize he was speaking aloud at times. The word spoken most often being
the name "Gabrielle".
Ollie knew what Joxer was thinking, even without the benefit of the occasional outbursts. He himself had thought along what
he rightly assumed were the same lines.
His life, his "death". The things he had done wrong, the people he missed. Yes, he'd had the same thoughts. He also knew
the danger from such a line of thinking.
If you weren't careful it could drive you crazy. Bearing that in mind, he endeavored to strike up a conversation at the
latest utterance of the name "Gabrielle".
"Don't tell me," Ollie said. "You had a girl, but somehow things got screwed up between you, and before you can fix it,
blam, you're here." He punctuated this with a vague wave of his hand.
Joxer was startled out of his reverie. He hadn't been aware that he'd been talking out loud. He blushed and looked
sheepishly at his feet.
"Come on, out with it." Ollie pressed on. "A guy can only listen to himself for so long."
Grateful for the chili, and feeling the need to talk to someone, Joxer haltingly, falteringly, began to tell his story.
***
"Rough stuff," Ollie remarked at the end of the narrative. It was certainly as wild as anything he'd ever seen. Though that
whole 'evil spawn' bit sounded like something straight off 'Jerry Springer'. "'Your demon child killed my son!' Next on
'Springer'." It was all he could do to stifle a laugh. He knew it wasn't funny, but Ollie was forever the satirist.
In a lot of ways, his own life paralleled this kid's in a general sense. Falling for a blond. Going through some rough times.
The bologna hitting the fan and screwing everything up. And then, before you can make things right, you end up in the happy
hunting grounds, or whatever this place was.
Dinah Lance, his 'one true love'. Ollie couldn't help but snort at that. Brother, how hokey did that sound? Next thing you
know, he'd be spouting clichés like "Truth, Justice, and the American Way!" But whether hokey or not, he couldn't deny the
truth of it.
He did it to himself of course. No one to blame but him. He'd blown it, no two ways about it. Seemed like his whole life
was nothing but one big string of gags at his expense. "So I guess this is the big punchline," he thought bitterly, while
looking around the featureless void for perhaps the billionth time.
With an effort, Ollie dragged his mind back to the present. Yeah, this kid sure had a tale to tell. Ollie especially
thought that this Xena character would get along grand with Dinah. Both strong, stubborn women who were never beholden to
any man, but weren't above using their devastating charm and beauty to get what they wanted if the situation demanded it.
Ollie couldn't help but chuckle at the thought of a reversal of the old adage, 'Men wanted them and women wanted to be them'.
And both had been through so much pain. They only needed to be held in someone's arms and told it would be all right. To be
told--
"Damn," Ollie thought to himself. "Circular thinking."
It was over between him and Dinah before he ever ended up here. He hadn't been a part of her life for a while, and it was
probably all for the best anyway. He was a conceited, cynical old codger. She deserved better. Hell, by now she probably
had a dozen prospects to choose from. She could even be married for all he knew.
"And besides," he tried to convince himself, "there's nothing I can do about it now anyway. Nothing except beat myself up
over it and act like a damned dog chasing his tail. And all that'll get me is a one way trip to the funny farm."
"Then again," he thought, "that could be where I am now."
"So, how about you?" Joxer asked. That brought Ollie's mind back to the land of the living. So to speak.
"Me? Well, let's see... It all started on a dark and stormy night when mister and missus Queen brought forth into the world
a bouncing baby boy named Oliver..." And taking that slightly self-effacing tone he always did when talking about himself,
Ollie launched into the account of his own life.
***
"This guy's been around the block a few times," Joxer thought to himself. He was especially intrigued by this Dinah lady.
She reminded him of Gabrielle, and he felt certain the two of them would get along if they were to ever meet.
Both had started this 'game' (as Ollie called their life of adventuring, something else Joxer had in common with this man)
at an early age. Both had been trying to prove something to themselves and their parents. And both had become hardened due
to the pain that later came in their lives.
Rape. Beatings. The loss of a loved one. Joxer's eyes welled up as he thought of the hurt Gabby had been forced to endure.
And the thought that he wasn't there to try and make it go away. She'd been lost to him for so long. So long.
Funny that. He knew intellectually that he'd gone on with his life, married Meg, raised a family, grew old and died; but it
seemed as though it had happened to someone else, not him. He seemed to see the past 25 years as though through someone
else's eyes. He just felt no connection to it all. And what made it all the more strange was that everything up to Gabby
and Xena's disappearance was so distinct. Everything up to that point felt more real somehow. More like the present in
someway. The way he thought, the way he talked, everything. Even his appearance was that of a young man. He wasn't
thinking as an old man looking back on life, but as a young one who has looked into a crystal ball and knows what the
future would/did bring. It was strange, but in some way it seemed only natural.
Is this what death is like? The thought brought him back to his surroundings, and the man talking animatedly before him.
"So there I was, in my shorts, with a tequila shooter in one hand and a blonde in the other when..."
Yeah, this guy had definitely been around the block. But like himself, he had always gone back to the woman he loved.
"Huh," Joxer said to himself, "at least this 'Dinah' loved him back. All I got was a nose tweak and the cold shoulder."
Feeling down in the dumps already, Joxer allowed himself to indulge in some self-pity.
"What's wrong with me anyway?" he asked himself indignantly. "I'm good looking. I can cook. I can play the lyre. I can show
the ladies a good time. Rrowr..." he finished with a waggle of the eyebrows.
"I take a bath once a month whether I need it or not! I'm quite a catch!" And with that, he puffed out his chest some and
lifted his chin up. The very portrait of a man who is self-assured and confident.
And he just as quickly deflated back into his dejected slump at his next thought.
"What 'I'm'? The only thing 'I am' is dead." He was right back where he started; though not quite. For it wasn't just
sadness anymore that reigned, but more than a little anger now. Anger at why he was here. Anger at the events that had
led up to it. Anger at all the stuff that had gone wrong, not just with himself, but with Gabby, and Xena too. All the
things that could've been, might've been, but hadn't been.
What had he done to deserve this? What had any of them done? They'd atoned for whatever misdeeds they'd done, hadn't they?
They'd tried to live good lives, do good things, hadn't they? So why this? Why all the 'punishment'? Were the Fates to blame?
But Xena always said we made our own fate. So where did that leave them?
"No-where, that's where," Joxer thought. Right back to square one. Is this what Tartarus was like? Going from one sad
thought to another, each leading to others, that in turn formed one big circle of torment for all eternity? Best not to think
at all.
"That shouldn't be too hard," Joxer snorted. He was forever being accused of not thinking as it was. His father. His
brothers. Random strangers. Even Gabby had all but told him at one time or another that he never thought. That he was some
sort of brainless idiot.
"Gosh darn it," he thought, "I am not a brainless idiot. Who was it that figured out the secret of the black powder in
Chin, huh? Me!" And he jabbed his thumb to his chest to emphasize the point.
"Who was it that stopped a whole army without shedding one drop of blood? Me!"
"And who was it that nursed the great Xena back to health? Me, Joxer The Mighty, that's who! Ha, Ha!" And with that, he
bounded to his feet and burst out in a chorus of 'Joxer The Mighty', heedless of the slightly quizzical look of his companion.
Once he had finished, he felt much better, better than he had yet in this place. If not a bit embarrassed by doing it in
front of this stranger.
"Don't worry," Ollie said, once he saw it had registered on Joxer's face what he'd just done, "I had a friend who would bust
out in this cornball oath. Heh, I can still hear it now: 'In brightest day, in blackest night..." Ollie chuckled at the
memory. All kidding aside, those were good times.
Him and Hal traveling across the country, opening each other's eyes to the world around them. And though Ollie had always
called him a square, Hal had taught him a thing or two about the way the world worked. Though he'd never let Hal know it.
He'd never hear the end of it.
Thinking about Hal still made him sick. It had ended all wrong. As wrong as anything can end. Ollie had done what needed
to be done, but he had never felt right about it. He'd known Hal, been closer to him than anyone, with the possible
exception of Barry Allen (and it was a shame about him too), and nobody would ever convince Ollie that Hal had gone renegade
on his own. It just wasn't in Hal's make up to snap like that. Something had to have influenced him. Batman be damned.
"Man," Ollie thought for the millionth time, "things really did hit the fan."
Ollie had always wondered where Hal had ended up after "Emerald Twilight." Wherever it was, it wasn't here, that much was
for sure. And for that Ollie was glad. Hal had never deserved the kind of silent torture one endures by being alone.
But, Ollie reflected, he wasn't alone anymore. For whatever reason, this kid had been plunked in this same place. Well,
he'd wanted the company, and though he hated to think some other poor slob had to go though all this, he was determined to
show the kid all there was to know.
"Come on," Ollie said to Joxer as he rose from his log. "Time you saw the 'Money Shot' of this here picture."
And with that, he led a curious Joxer away into the mists.
Serial Segment: Chapter 1
"Type": Crossover/Relationshipper-centric
Subtext: No. Subtext? What subtext? Never heard of the stuff. ;-)
Rating: PG [SC], [L]
Spoilers: Possible Spoilers for "The Deliverer", "Maternal Instincts", "Back in the Bottle", "In Sickness and in Hell", and "Eve"
Continuity Placement: By the necessity of certain events, this story must take place in an "alternate" Xenaverse, the main reason being that these selfsame events invalidate the majority of Season 6. At the very least "Friend In Need" cannot be worked into it. Anyway, it is valid up through the end of Season 5 at least and takes place sometime after that.
Historian's Note: No known historical inaccuracies noted.
Synapses: Joxer wakes up after his death to find himself in some ethereal realm along with a certain former DC Comics costumed vigilante.
Author's Note: I wrote the first draft of this little ditty right after Joxer's demise in April of 2000. It helped me over the pain and loss (*sob*).
The Series Finale has dictated certain continuity breaking events, but I still feel that it holds up.
In addition to that, this was the very first Fan Fiction story I'd ever written, so I suppose that's some sort of personal milestone, and always a handy excuse to explain the lack of quality in a given piece. :-)
The story is, as the Type says, a Crossover story. And while one gets the maximum amount of enjoyment out of the story by being conversant with the two "universes" involved, I do feel confident that the story is strong enough and clear enough to be understood and enjoyed by even those that *aren't* familiar with each fictional "Universe" featured.
And while on the subject of other "universes", at the time this story was written certain fates of certain characters had not been revealed as of yet. Since then these fates have, so the continuity breaches extend to the material in this other "universe" as well.
Oh, and one last, last, thing. Comments are always welcome. Even bad ones. I'm just as much a glory hound as the next guy. Remember, there's no such thing as "bad" press. ;-)
Archival Permission: Yes. But I'd like to know first. (Like anyone would *want* this tripe! ;-)
Disclaimer: All characters within are the sole property of Studios USA and/or Renaissance Pictures and AOL/Time Warner. The use of herein characters is for private use only. No infringement is intended, either expressed or implied. All rights reserved. Copyright 2003.
QUEEN'S GAMBIT
By Rupert Brown
Prologue
Cold. A cold that chills one to the marrow. Cold unlike anything before, yet tantalizingly familiar. Vacant. Silent.
All enveloping.
What was this place? How did he get here? What had happened? All these questions and more passed through Joxer's mind.
Confusion reigned as he looked himself over, as though for the first time.
"It's a kicker, ain't it? Who would have thought you'd end up spending eternity in your work clothes."
Joxer wheeled around as the voice sounded behind him.
"The name's Queen. My friends call me Ollie," said the man as he shook Joxer's hand.
"Looks like you bought it too, eh?"
Still dazed, the most Joxer could manage was a bewildered, "Huh?"
"The big dirt nap. The long sleep. Pushing up daises. A long walk off a short pier."
Joxer's eyes went wide at the implication. "You mean I'm-"
"Dead? Beats the hell out of me. One minute you're flying above Metropolis with your arm stuck in a bomb and the next,"
the man made a grand sweeping gesture, taking in the great expanse of nothingness all around them, "you're here."
"For all I know this could be the physical manifestation of someone's mind. You see some weird stuff in my line of work.
My motto's just go with the flow. What's your name?"
"J-Joxer," Joxer replied, still trying to absorb the enormity of it all.
"Joxer," the man repeated, familiarizing himself with the name. "Not any worse than 'Kal-El', that's for sure."
"You're the first person I've seen since I've been here," the man went on. "Come on, looks like you could use a bowl of
chili." And with that, he led Joxer away through the ether.
Chapter 1
Some time later (if indeed time even existed in this place, for there was no way to keep track), Joxer was rested, well fed,
and beginning to fully grasp the implications of his situation.
While mulling over his 3rd bowl of chili, Joxer studied the enigmatic stranger before him.
He was blond, of decent height. About as tall as himself, Joxer thought. Clad in what could only be described as a costume
of some sort. Not unlike anything he had seen before, but not wholly familiar either. Sort of like what Autolycus wore.
The predominate theme had to be the solid color of it all, that being green. Something like that of a woodsman, what with
the thick high boots and gloves. And perhaps that's what he was, for it would surely explain the great bow and feathered
arrows he carried upon his back.
Perhaps the most striking feature though was the Van Dyke beard he sported, along with the odd hat he roguishly wore upon his
head. At least that Joxer could readily identify. Amarice had worn one just like it when he'd first met her.
But by far, the most prominent thing about this man had to be the easy way with which he both spoke and held himself. The
attitude of one who is fully secure in their abilities, if not maybe a little vain as well. A man you could like well enough,
but on his own terms. All in all, not that much different than Xena, Joxer thought to himself.
He immediately wished he hadn't.
Thoughts of Xena opened up the flood gates of his past, and what he could only guess were the recent circumstances that led
up to his being, well, here. Wherever "here" was. And that brought home the feelings of loss, pain, and loneliness. Which
in turn brought him back to his reminiscing of how things were. It was a vicious circle.
He was so immersed in his thoughts that he didn't realize he was speaking aloud at times. The word spoken most often being
the name "Gabrielle".
Ollie knew what Joxer was thinking, even without the benefit of the occasional outbursts. He himself had thought along what
he rightly assumed were the same lines.
His life, his "death". The things he had done wrong, the people he missed. Yes, he'd had the same thoughts. He also knew
the danger from such a line of thinking.
If you weren't careful it could drive you crazy. Bearing that in mind, he endeavored to strike up a conversation at the
latest utterance of the name "Gabrielle".
"Don't tell me," Ollie said. "You had a girl, but somehow things got screwed up between you, and before you can fix it,
blam, you're here." He punctuated this with a vague wave of his hand.
Joxer was startled out of his reverie. He hadn't been aware that he'd been talking out loud. He blushed and looked
sheepishly at his feet.
"Come on, out with it." Ollie pressed on. "A guy can only listen to himself for so long."
Grateful for the chili, and feeling the need to talk to someone, Joxer haltingly, falteringly, began to tell his story.
***
"Rough stuff," Ollie remarked at the end of the narrative. It was certainly as wild as anything he'd ever seen. Though that
whole 'evil spawn' bit sounded like something straight off 'Jerry Springer'. "'Your demon child killed my son!' Next on
'Springer'." It was all he could do to stifle a laugh. He knew it wasn't funny, but Ollie was forever the satirist.
In a lot of ways, his own life paralleled this kid's in a general sense. Falling for a blond. Going through some rough times.
The bologna hitting the fan and screwing everything up. And then, before you can make things right, you end up in the happy
hunting grounds, or whatever this place was.
Dinah Lance, his 'one true love'. Ollie couldn't help but snort at that. Brother, how hokey did that sound? Next thing you
know, he'd be spouting clichés like "Truth, Justice, and the American Way!" But whether hokey or not, he couldn't deny the
truth of it.
He did it to himself of course. No one to blame but him. He'd blown it, no two ways about it. Seemed like his whole life
was nothing but one big string of gags at his expense. "So I guess this is the big punchline," he thought bitterly, while
looking around the featureless void for perhaps the billionth time.
With an effort, Ollie dragged his mind back to the present. Yeah, this kid sure had a tale to tell. Ollie especially
thought that this Xena character would get along grand with Dinah. Both strong, stubborn women who were never beholden to
any man, but weren't above using their devastating charm and beauty to get what they wanted if the situation demanded it.
Ollie couldn't help but chuckle at the thought of a reversal of the old adage, 'Men wanted them and women wanted to be them'.
And both had been through so much pain. They only needed to be held in someone's arms and told it would be all right. To be
told--
"Damn," Ollie thought to himself. "Circular thinking."
It was over between him and Dinah before he ever ended up here. He hadn't been a part of her life for a while, and it was
probably all for the best anyway. He was a conceited, cynical old codger. She deserved better. Hell, by now she probably
had a dozen prospects to choose from. She could even be married for all he knew.
"And besides," he tried to convince himself, "there's nothing I can do about it now anyway. Nothing except beat myself up
over it and act like a damned dog chasing his tail. And all that'll get me is a one way trip to the funny farm."
"Then again," he thought, "that could be where I am now."
"So, how about you?" Joxer asked. That brought Ollie's mind back to the land of the living. So to speak.
"Me? Well, let's see... It all started on a dark and stormy night when mister and missus Queen brought forth into the world
a bouncing baby boy named Oliver..." And taking that slightly self-effacing tone he always did when talking about himself,
Ollie launched into the account of his own life.
***
"This guy's been around the block a few times," Joxer thought to himself. He was especially intrigued by this Dinah lady.
She reminded him of Gabrielle, and he felt certain the two of them would get along if they were to ever meet.
Both had started this 'game' (as Ollie called their life of adventuring, something else Joxer had in common with this man)
at an early age. Both had been trying to prove something to themselves and their parents. And both had become hardened due
to the pain that later came in their lives.
Rape. Beatings. The loss of a loved one. Joxer's eyes welled up as he thought of the hurt Gabby had been forced to endure.
And the thought that he wasn't there to try and make it go away. She'd been lost to him for so long. So long.
Funny that. He knew intellectually that he'd gone on with his life, married Meg, raised a family, grew old and died; but it
seemed as though it had happened to someone else, not him. He seemed to see the past 25 years as though through someone
else's eyes. He just felt no connection to it all. And what made it all the more strange was that everything up to Gabby
and Xena's disappearance was so distinct. Everything up to that point felt more real somehow. More like the present in
someway. The way he thought, the way he talked, everything. Even his appearance was that of a young man. He wasn't
thinking as an old man looking back on life, but as a young one who has looked into a crystal ball and knows what the
future would/did bring. It was strange, but in some way it seemed only natural.
Is this what death is like? The thought brought him back to his surroundings, and the man talking animatedly before him.
"So there I was, in my shorts, with a tequila shooter in one hand and a blonde in the other when..."
Yeah, this guy had definitely been around the block. But like himself, he had always gone back to the woman he loved.
"Huh," Joxer said to himself, "at least this 'Dinah' loved him back. All I got was a nose tweak and the cold shoulder."
Feeling down in the dumps already, Joxer allowed himself to indulge in some self-pity.
"What's wrong with me anyway?" he asked himself indignantly. "I'm good looking. I can cook. I can play the lyre. I can show
the ladies a good time. Rrowr..." he finished with a waggle of the eyebrows.
"I take a bath once a month whether I need it or not! I'm quite a catch!" And with that, he puffed out his chest some and
lifted his chin up. The very portrait of a man who is self-assured and confident.
And he just as quickly deflated back into his dejected slump at his next thought.
"What 'I'm'? The only thing 'I am' is dead." He was right back where he started; though not quite. For it wasn't just
sadness anymore that reigned, but more than a little anger now. Anger at why he was here. Anger at the events that had
led up to it. Anger at all the stuff that had gone wrong, not just with himself, but with Gabby, and Xena too. All the
things that could've been, might've been, but hadn't been.
What had he done to deserve this? What had any of them done? They'd atoned for whatever misdeeds they'd done, hadn't they?
They'd tried to live good lives, do good things, hadn't they? So why this? Why all the 'punishment'? Were the Fates to blame?
But Xena always said we made our own fate. So where did that leave them?
"No-where, that's where," Joxer thought. Right back to square one. Is this what Tartarus was like? Going from one sad
thought to another, each leading to others, that in turn formed one big circle of torment for all eternity? Best not to think
at all.
"That shouldn't be too hard," Joxer snorted. He was forever being accused of not thinking as it was. His father. His
brothers. Random strangers. Even Gabby had all but told him at one time or another that he never thought. That he was some
sort of brainless idiot.
"Gosh darn it," he thought, "I am not a brainless idiot. Who was it that figured out the secret of the black powder in
Chin, huh? Me!" And he jabbed his thumb to his chest to emphasize the point.
"Who was it that stopped a whole army without shedding one drop of blood? Me!"
"And who was it that nursed the great Xena back to health? Me, Joxer The Mighty, that's who! Ha, Ha!" And with that, he
bounded to his feet and burst out in a chorus of 'Joxer The Mighty', heedless of the slightly quizzical look of his companion.
Once he had finished, he felt much better, better than he had yet in this place. If not a bit embarrassed by doing it in
front of this stranger.
"Don't worry," Ollie said, once he saw it had registered on Joxer's face what he'd just done, "I had a friend who would bust
out in this cornball oath. Heh, I can still hear it now: 'In brightest day, in blackest night..." Ollie chuckled at the
memory. All kidding aside, those were good times.
Him and Hal traveling across the country, opening each other's eyes to the world around them. And though Ollie had always
called him a square, Hal had taught him a thing or two about the way the world worked. Though he'd never let Hal know it.
He'd never hear the end of it.
Thinking about Hal still made him sick. It had ended all wrong. As wrong as anything can end. Ollie had done what needed
to be done, but he had never felt right about it. He'd known Hal, been closer to him than anyone, with the possible
exception of Barry Allen (and it was a shame about him too), and nobody would ever convince Ollie that Hal had gone renegade
on his own. It just wasn't in Hal's make up to snap like that. Something had to have influenced him. Batman be damned.
"Man," Ollie thought for the millionth time, "things really did hit the fan."
Ollie had always wondered where Hal had ended up after "Emerald Twilight." Wherever it was, it wasn't here, that much was
for sure. And for that Ollie was glad. Hal had never deserved the kind of silent torture one endures by being alone.
But, Ollie reflected, he wasn't alone anymore. For whatever reason, this kid had been plunked in this same place. Well,
he'd wanted the company, and though he hated to think some other poor slob had to go though all this, he was determined to
show the kid all there was to know.
"Come on," Ollie said to Joxer as he rose from his log. "Time you saw the 'Money Shot' of this here picture."
And with that, he led a curious Joxer away into the mists.