As Clone and Twilight left Batmane's world. Twilight poked Clone in the side.

"Aren't you going to apologize?" she asked. Clone was puzzled.

"For what?"

"For being gone for so long?" Twilight sighed and slouched.

"Nah they understand. Don't you audience?" Sorry. "Anyhow, we know where the Pure are. Now we just have to get there." Twilight perked up.

"Shouldn't we report this to the authorities? Isn't there someone in charge of this?" Clone shook his head.

"Yes and no Twilight. The Council of Writers could assign someone to take care of this, but they're always busy with important matters."

"Important matters? Like what?" Twilight asked.

"Like discussing if Fifty Shades of Gray is a legitimate story was the last thing I heard." Twilight tilted her head.

"You mean that story about that girl that wants a guy to do sexual things to her?"

"Yup. Before it was a Twilight Fan Fic. Now it's being read by all the famous people." Twilight frowned.

"How is THAT more important than a monster that can suck the character out of a creature?" Clone placed his hand against his helmet. Twilight was right of course. The Council had always made poor decisions like these.

"It's their decision Twilight. I wish I had more say but, I don't. I used to." Twilight stopped in her tracks.

"Used to? You were on the council?" Clone chuckled.

"Oh yeah, well not me, but also me at the same time." He looked down at Twilight, who was trying to piece it together. "Right. I told you about my predecessors right?" Twilight nodded.

"There were many different versions of yourself that goes into alphabetical order." Clone found a chair and motioned Twilight to sit.

"Well, before me was ClonetrooperJay. He was a member of the Council. He was a strange type of guy, always had his pockets full of jelly beans and smiled like it was nobody's business." Twilight chuckled a bit. "But he was also a very serious type of guy. He was known as the type of man you respected, but also feared."

"Why was he feared?" Twilight asked.

"He wasn't always the nicest guy with characters. One time, a character was trying to break into the real world. He had to destroy many different forms of entertainment to do it. Remember the Ultima series?" Clone asked.

"Wasn't that a game?"

"It was. A character known as, "The Guardian", wanted more control of my world, so he slowly began to degrade his game. Eventually the last two games of the Ultima series, 8 and 9, destroyed the franchise. Characters were horribly deformed, and changed into scraps of their former selves. The Avatar, the star of the game, suffered the most. Years of story destroyed. But that's where ClonetrooperJay came in. He didn't say anything. He only stared at the Guardian when they had him before the Council. He managed to pressure the Council to make the Guardian a joke. He was sent into the Void and replaced with a Guardian that acted like the typical villain." Clone looked to the ceiling of the hotel. It had a glass ceiling, showing the Void to any who looked at it. "I think me and him would have bumped heads a lot."

"Did you get a chance to meet him?" Twilight asked. Clone turned back to Twilight and crossed his arms.

"No. No Clonetrooper is supposed to meet a previous one. There are cheap tricks sure, but you know the saying, 'This town ain't big enough for the two of us' right? Twilight nodded.

"Well, only one Avatar of one writer can be stored within the realm. If you had me and Jay meet, it could destroy everything." Twilight walked over to Clone.

"So there's no way to ask him for help?"

"Well, I have his knowledge. It's not him, but it's what he knew. And he knew nothing that could help us." Clone scratched the back of his neck. "It's weird I know, but the knowledge and wisdom we usually get helps us in the long run. I'm lasting a lot longer than my first incarnations." Clone began walking down the walkway to their destination. Twilight followed.

"How long until we get to the Pure's door?"

"Difficult to say, probably half an hour or so." Though the hotel was designed to get people right where they needed to go, to get to new places, they needed to walk to the door to get there. With that, Twilight has many lingering thoughts. Thoughts about who Clone was. A writer? A god? An alien? She didn't know, and she needed to find out. To learn about Clonetrooperkev, she needed to go to the beginning.

"So... how did ClonetrooperJay . . . you know?" Twilight motioned towards Clone. He gave off a sad energy.

"How did he meet his end?" Clone asked. Twilight nodded. The story on how Jay met his end was not heroic by any means. It was a death that left people feeling angry and sad. "Well, it's a story, and we have time."

"And time is the fire in which we all burn?" Twilight asked with a big smile. "Did I get the quote right? You told me to watch Star Trek to understand humanity." Clone shook his head.

"Not that movie Twilight. Never Star Trek Seven." And audience, if you like that movie, that's fine. For me, it was a boring plot that killed off a Sci Fi Icon. But Clone put his hands in his pocket and began telling the story.

The history of the Realm spans for thousands of years. Before creativity, there was the Realm. It was full of the thoughts of the creatures of the universe. Chaotic thoughts that ranged from the curious to the hideous. When the first Avatar was born, it appeared to be the stuff of nightmares. But, it managed to do that which all creatures have trouble doing even to this day, it conquered its fears. This Avatar cleared the realm, and became known as, "The First". Through its bravery, the realm became organized, creatures had clear thought and purpose. And this allowed for more writers to come in and get their Avatars. The First has vanished from the sights of the rest of the Avatars, but people still speak of it. Some say that you can still see it when you have a burst of creativity. Few say that it'll visit you during a story and give you a clear direction for your story.

That was the beauty of The First. It simply told it's story and moved on. For other Avatars, however, that wasn't enough. Many writers possess something that is quite dangerous. An ego. An ego is what brings nations to its knees. An ego is what leads to both success and failure. And it can lead for a search for power. The power, in this case, is the source of all creativity, "The Well". The Well contains the source of the writers powers. The ink within their pens. The magic, the science, the order, the chaos. All that begins with The Well. When a writer looks into it, it can lead to any sort of possibilities. The writer could become the greatest writer the world has ever seen. Or it can lead to one who would kill an entire race. But all the more dangerous, are the ones who want the power of The Well to themselves. The power of god, all to themselves.

One such writer went by the name, "Charreol". Charreol loved writing stories about himself and Pokemon. How he, the first Pokemon Human hybrid was the most powerful in the land, and everybody loved him. He possessed the powers of both writers and characters. He claimed he had the strengths of both, and the weaknesses of neither. He could do no wrong, or so he said. So he made, what he thought, was a clear and good decision. He would conquer the stories of other writers, control the realm, and take the power of The Well to spread his greatness. At first, nobody dared oppose him. He didn't do enough to warrant the full response of the Council. That was until he wanted to change the continuity of Pokemon itself. The creator, Satoshi Tajiri, called for the capture of Charreol. The Council has a group of protectors and enforcers known as, the "Defenders". They are the Council's will, and perform their actions to perfection. Some say they are made up of writers who went insane and have this as their reality, the only place that makes sense. But whatever they are, characters or writers, they get their tasks done.

Finally, he was captured, and brought before the Council. The Council resides in a tower that has the Council members sit on chairs positioned at each level, much like a spiral stair case. ClonetrooperJay sat a level that wasn't too low or too high. It was just right. He wore a white jacket with a black and white scarf with white tap dancing shoes and black pants. His helmet had a giant visor, he liked to analyze everything. Next to him on both sides were writers that he trusted with his life. They always argued about the ruling the Council passed, but today was a day unlike any other. This writer, the one responsible for the deaths of writers and characters alike, the destroyer of worlds, would receive what he deserved.

The leaders of the Council fell to three writers who received immortality for their works. The three were Shakespeare, the cruelest of the three, Fitzgerald, and Davies. The three looked to this writer, with the look of a humanized Charmander, who was cuffed and secured, and the eyes of pure hatred. It's the type of hatred you saw with only a few writers, even though they're enlightened by seeing the Realm and the Void, they still found a way to hate.

"Why don't they just send him into the void and get it over with?" A writer close to Jay asked. Jay listened to everything around him. Everything that would give him a chance to win in a situation. Listening was an art style, and he declared himself a master. But here, there weren't any murmurs of wanting a better way or wanting this writer dead. They wanted him in the void, never to be seen again. Shakespeare made his voice known.

"Is there anyone on the Council that would speak for this . . . writer?" Shakespeare's question lingered for a short while. No one would take Charreol's side. They could understand why he did those things, they could feel bad for him, but they wanted him punished. He wanted to control creativity, and that was a crime that could not be overlooked.

"If not," Shakespeare continued, "we shall banish him to the void." Shakespeare nodded over to Davies who opened the portal to the void. "Are there any last words before you're forgotten?" Charreol looked up at the Council, looking at every member.

"You are all scum. I had a perfect future in mind for everybody. It was going to be beautiful. It was going to be paradise." He stepped forward. "Is this what I get? For wanting to make life worth living I am cast out? Am I truly evil?" Jay had heard enough. He made his voice known.

"If you really wanted to make life better, you wouldn't have killed so many. Despite what people may say, there's always an alternative. Always a better way. I stand here and say, you're small, you pathetic creature. You're small and alone." The Council was shocked by Jay's words. True, he had been cold before, but this outburst was unexpected. Charreol smiled.

"I may be small and alone right now ClonetrooperJay, but you should know my power is great. I didn't limit myself. Even here..." He clenched his fists, he made his power known. "Even in this place, you can't take my powers away. And with my last act in the Realm, I kill you!" He screamed and sent a stream of orange energy to ClonetrooperJay. The stream went straight through him. He grabbed himself in pain and began a long fall to the floor. Many things happened while he was falling, Shakespeare ordered the Defenders to throw Charreol in immediately, writers cried out in shock and in anger, but they were not worried for Clone. They were worried for their own lives. Charreol was tossed in, and with a last act of defiance, he screamed,

"NONE OF YOU ARE SAFE! I WILL NOT BE THE LAST!" With that, he disappeared, and the Void was closed off. Some of the Defenders rushed over to Clone. His body was shaking in pain.

"Mr. Trooper? Are you alright?" One of the Defenders asked. Clone laid on his back, his voice full of anger and sadness.

"That son of a bitch! I could have done so much more!" The Defenders thought that these were his dying words. But the older writers on the Council knew better. Suddenly, the Defenders caught a surprise when Jay's body started to glow blue. "No! I want to stay me! It can't end like this, it just can't!" The blue light overtook him and shined brightly, blinding everyone in the room. When the light stopped, everybody looked down at ClonetrooperJay. He was still wearing the same clothes, but was different. His shape was different and more noticeably, his helmet was different as well. Every time a Clone changed, certain things like the helmet changed as well. This Clone sat up and looked at everyone. Some looked horrified, others looked confused. Fitzgerald, walked over to Clone and kneel-ed down next to him.

"How are you feeling my boy?" Fitzgerald's question bounced in this new Clone's head. How was he feeling?

"Sad. Very, very sad." Clone stood up and took his scarf off, letting it hit the floor. He looked at it for a second, and began leaving the room.

"What's your name now my boy?" Shakespeare asked. Clone let that question stew a bit.

"It begins with a K, and I'll let you know when I have the rest figured out." He left the room, not returning to that room for as long as he could manage.

"So you've never went back since then?" Twilight asked. Clone stared off into the distance, he remembered all the pain that he went through when he first came into the world. Pain that Jay gave him.

"No, I don't like that place. And frankly, I don't think the Council likes me."

"Why's that?"

"Well before, I was completely with them on every matter. But now that I'm me, I've found that I can only disagree." Twilight sighed and looked at the ground.

"I've found myself to be in that situation sometimes as well. The Princess makes eccentric decisions at times." Clone turned his head to Twilight and laughed.

"Yeah, I can see how a Princess who throws all her problems on to her citizens could cause some distrust." Twilight frowned at Clone.

"Hey! Celestia isn't perfect, but she tries." Clone laughed again.

"Yeah, that she does. Anyway, we're here." Twilight turned her head to the door. It wasn't anything special, it was just a simple door.

"I was expecting more doom and peril at the villain's door." Clone knocked on the door.

"You should know better than that Twi'. Don't judge a book by it's cover."