War of the Universes
Chapter Two: The Second Hero
Hank Hill was falling. Falling through an empty world, unable to move his body, unable to shout, just watching the darkness all around himself...
A faint voice called out to him. It was unrecognizable at first, but, as it grew louder, Hank realized that it was from his friend, Dale.
"Haaaaaaank... Haaaaaaank."
Through the darkness, a large figure approached him. As it grew near, Hank felt terror throughout his entire body as it slowly became recognizable...
It was a large, floating mass of lasagna with Dale's face.
Ring ring.
Hank opened his eyes, but sleep overtook him once more and they closed once more.
Ring ring. Ring ring. Ring ring.
"Damn it," he muttered, sitting up and reaching towards the nightstand for his glasses. After putting them on, he slung his legs around the bed and reached for the phone, picking it up. "Hello?"
"Hank! Hank! You gotta come quick!" It was Dale.
"Uh, Dale, it's two o'clock in the morning."
"Exactly! There's still time! Come over qu-" Dale's voice fizzled off.
"Dale?" Hank looked at the phone as the signal cut off. He sighed, hanging up the phone. His wife, Peggy, got up on one arm, rubbing her eyes at him.
"What's the matter Hank?" Her voice was groggy from sleep.
"I don't know, Dale's excited about somethin'."
"Probably just another opossum," Peggy said, rolling back over and closing her eyes. "Just go back to bed," she said through a yawn, her breathing becoming shallow once more.
Hank would've liked to do just that, but something was bugging him. His dream, the same one that had plagued him for many nights now, and the call he had just received. Were they connected?
Determined to find out the answers, Hank got out of bed and walked over to the closet. Upon opening it, he began to look through his assortment of white shirts and light-blue jeans, all of which were the same, but he could tell the differences that nobody else in the world would be able to point out.
After getting dressed, Hank quietly made his way through the house to the front door, walking past the kitchen where Bobby was sitting on the counter, digging in to a large tub of chocolate ice-cream. Hank backed up back to the kitchen and looked at him.
"Bobby? What are you doin' son?"
"Uh, science experiment?" Bobby gulped down the ice-cream in his mouth after talking.
Hank sighed. "Damn it boy, put that up and go to bed." Hank shook his head and went to the front door, proceeding to leave the house.
Bobby never stopped eating the ice cream.
Hank drove his red Ford F-250 to Dale's, arriving there in no time at all. Pulling into the driveway behind Dale's pest-control van, Hank noticed the garage was cracked a little. As he stepped out of his truck, Dale stuck his head out from the garage.
"Psst! Hank! In here!"
Dale lifted the garage a bit, looking around suspiciously. Hank ducked into the garage, and Dale put it down low again.
"What is it you wanted to show me?"
"Hank, you're never going to believe this! There I was, driving down the road on a nightly patrol, when suddenly: This huge rat ran past the van!"
"My God, not this again Dale."
"But this time it's true I tell you! Look!" Dale moved over to a small ice-chest nearby, opening it and pulling something out. He brought it to Hank and showed it to him. It was a large curled-up, pink toe of sorts with a claw at the end.
"Bwahhh! What the hell is that?" Hank took a step back.
"It's one of its toes! I chased it down to Strickland and I cornered it! It put on one hell of a fight, but I snagged the stupid rodent!"
"How does that prove anything?"
"Just look at it!" Dale waved the toe in Hank's face. He moved back, knocking it out of Dale's hand. It landed near the garage. "It's pretty crazy. Probably the chemicals the Government's been putting into the atmosphere, mutating local rodents!" Dale bent over to pick up the toe, but, suddenly, something reached into the garage and grabbed it, scampering off. "Hey!"
Dale lifted the garage, a shadowy figure running off quickly.
"It's him, Hank! Let's go!" Dale quickly ran over to his van, hopping into the driver's seat. Hank reluctantly got in, and Dale backed up and quickly drove off.
"Dale, I hate to say this, but I think you've gone off the deep end again."
"No, you're right Hank. With this discovery, I'm in the deep end! The Government's gonna be all over me after this. So, once I kill it, it'll have to stay in your freezer!"
"Hwat? Keep it in your own damn fre-" Hank was cut off as something suddenly leaped onto the windshield of the van. They both yelled, and Dale, unable to see anything, began to swerve around, eventually running straight into a tree...
Hank looked up, his vision blurry and his head a bit fuzzy. He held onto his head, looking over at the driver's seat. Dale wasn't there. Hank groaned, unbuckling his seat-belt and opening the van door, stepping outside.
"What the hell happened..." Hank stumbled out from the van, which was completely smashed in the front. The airbags hadn't deployed at all. Hank opened the compartment to find a lot of bug sprays and cigarettes. "Damn it Dale... But that does explain a lot." Hank grabbed one of the bug sprays, examining it.
Hank never saw the large figure approaching him from behind, almost twice his height, until its shadow loomed over him from the nearby street-light. He turned and looked up at it. It was a large rat-man creature, staring down at him with pure-black eyes.
"Bwahhhhhhhhhhhh!" Hank quickly sprayed it in the eyes with the pesticide. It squealed, rubbing its eyes, and he ran. After a moment, he looked over his shoulder to find the rat-man was gone. Suddenly, he ran into somebody and he turned to them.
It was Dale. "Hank, did you see it too?"
"Mother of God, what was it?"
"Told you I wasn't crazy! Everyone always doubts the crazy man. They said all the harmful chemicals in my van and my house were killing my brain, but look whose crazy now!" Dale threw his hands up in the air, hollering in joy...
That's when Hank noticed something... Odd.
"Uh, Dale. You seem to be bleeding a bit."
Dale dropped his arms, feeling his neck, looking at the redness now on his hands. "Oh yeah, I guess. We did just get into an accident, ya' know."
"Then what's that?"
Hank pointed at Dale's nose, where a small strand of something that appeared to be, perhaps, a noodle was hanging down. He snorted, slurping it up into his nose.
"Who knows. Let's just get out of here before the feds show up," Dale said.
"Dale, we have to tell somebody about this, right now. I've been your friend for a long time running, and I've put up with a lot of your crap, so, right now, I have to say: You are not crazy." Hank continued on, unaware that the rat-man was slowly creeping up on him. Dale listened, nodding, smiling, ignoring the large rat-man coming up behind Hank, its claws reared back...
In that moment, before the rat-man struck, something flew down from the sky, slamming into the ground behind Hank, slicing off the rat-man's head. Hank turned, yelling and backing away from the scene. The object was a longsword, with what appeared to be the top of a propane can at the base of its handle.
"God dangit, I'm done with all of this," Hank said, shaking his head and walking past it.
"Wait up, Hank!" Dale growled after him, walking up to the sword and grabbing the handle. As he did, it electrocuted him. "Gah, what the-"
"You comin'?" Hank turned to Dale, who stepped back from the sword, grabbing his head, seemingly in pain. "Dale?" Hank moved forward to help him.
"No, get away from me! It's... It's taking over, Hank!" Dale fell to his knees. What appeared to be blood started to pour from his eyes, nose, and ears, but, looking closer, he realized that it was more pasty, like tomato sauce. Hank watched in horror as Dale's skin began to melt into a sort of goop, his human structure becoming nothing but a pile of peach sludge with a red hat. Noodles began to seep through his body like a big tangle of spaghetti, before weaving together like a basket and forming, to Hank's horror, a large lasagna. Dale's glasses fell to the ground, shattering.
"What... Did I die in the crash? Is this hell?" Hank sighed. "I knew I should've gone electric."
The large mass of lasagna suddenly began to float in the air. Noodle strands came out from its sides, wiggling about as if it were its arms.
"Hello, Hank Hill. At last, we can meet in person."
"What the hell are you? Oh god, listen to me, I'm talking to a lasagna!" Hank shook his head.
"You are a threat to my people, and you must be punished." It began to slowly float towards Hank.
"Stay away from me!" Hank looked around, eventually settling on the sword. He grabbed it by the handle and pulled, but it didn't come out of the ground. He put both hands on it and started to tug on it. The lasagna's pasta arms extended out towards Hank, who continued to pull, and pull, and...
Finally, the sword came loose from the dirt, coming up and slicing through the noodle arms. The lasagna growled, pained by this. Hank looked at the sword, surprised by how it seemed to weigh nothing in his hands.
"You shall perish!" The large lasagna flew at Hank, who lifted the sword up to protect himself. The lasagna flew right at him and got sliced in half by the sword, spewing tomato sauce all over Hank's shirt and pants, though the two halves came back around, coming for Hank again. The sauce on Hank's clothing began to sizzle and corrode it. He realized it was acidic. "It ends here, Hill!" The lasagna halves grew closer and closer and...
Suddenly, a bright pillar of light came down from the sky, enveloping Hank. The lasagna hit it and was knocked back. Hank looked up, holding the sword towards the sky.
"God, now there's aliens? Dale was right about everything!" Hank suddenly started to float up towards the sky, kicking his feet in surprise. "Bwahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh-" His yell eventually disappeared as he ascended past the clouds above...
TO BE CONTINUED
In: The Third Hero
