Steve Warz

Episode [Summa]:

Ago Creo

They are almost here. And in so little time. There is still a chance it will stop again. But, should they arrive…

...I must prepare myself to face these lingering demons. Once, and for all.

...

(Having popped back into existence and following a quick explanation as to his whereabouts and what had unfolded, Squishy is happily welcomed back by his comrades, who have made it past the Forecloser safely. Now in full force, the Jedi party march down the long ivory corridor that will hopefully bring them to the Master's actual chambers at long last. This determined procession lasts for a minute before they hit a snag. Specifically, a bedraggled, mellow-eyed individual who steps out of literal nowhere to block their path)

Dreamer: Heeeey, what's happening, dudes?

Squishy: Dreamer?

Jo: How the freak did you get ahead of us?

Dreamer: That's nothing to be concerned about, dawg. What is totally concerning is how you all, like, got past Forecloser. It's a major bummer that you survived, y'know?

Sara: So you did set us up!

Will: You made a big mistake showing yourself, cuz my fists want a private word with you.

Anna: Mine as well.

Cope: Ditto.

Dreamer: Is that right? Then I guess I should drop the act.

Jo: Act?

Dreamer: Yeah: check it.

(He grabs his shirt, and with a dramatic pull both his shirt and pants come off in a singular bundle. What we're left with is a fresh tan collared shirt and olive slacks. Even the Embodiment's head has been made over, with hair tied in a ponytail resting over a shoulder and some Oakley-styled specs. A striking, aggressive business look to be sure)

Dreamer?: God I hate playing the idiot. (Tosses away clothes, puts on a swank fedora) That's right, kiddos: you've been played!

Will: Neat disguise, but that's not exactly brag-worthy.

Squishy: So you're not the Dreamer?

NotDreamer: Tcheh, there wasn't even a Dreamer to begin with, runt. The closest thing is the Recliner, who would absolutely steamroll your a**es if he bothered to get off his own. Instead, you have the fortune of dealing with me, the Conspirator: Embodiment of Deception, and the head of security of this place.

Cope: Head of security?

Anna: And it's only now that you show up?

Conspirator: (Annoyed huff) The Master insists that everybody does their part in defending HQ, and not just leave it in the hands of the one guy who's specialized for it. And look how swimmingly that all went, particularly with Depressant: he practically let you walk on by. Frickin' Naturalist put in more effort! But, now that the uppermost level has been compromised, I'm finally free to step in and take out the trash.

Jo: By making us think you were a stoner?

Conspirator: (Mocking chuckle) You really are garbage mystics. Something you should have picked up on during your unauthorized tour was that none of us have roommates, and dual personas don't count. We're all a bunch of lonely f***ers that absolutely have to have their space, so my being in the Contractor's room should have set off a red flag instantly. But no: you bought my chummy, harmless charade instantly, which made selling the second deceit a no brainer.

Will: What? That the bridge was totally safe?

Conspirator: That the bridge was the only option. When I said Contractor had a direct line to Master? He had a teleporter pad hidden beside his bed: it would've taken all of you straight to the boss. Seriously, why would such a lazy f*** walk all that way, and deal with Forecloser each time he wanted a word with our Master? But you just took my word and walked merrily into the grabby mitts of doom. (Grumble) Though not grabby enough, apparently.

Anna: If you wanted to get rid of us, then why didn't you just turn off the bridge when we were halfway across?

Cope: That would have been the simplest way of ending us.

Conspirator: As a matter of fact, that's exactly what I did when Forecloser showed up. But a certain somebody kept it active from the other side. After you're dealt with, that's gonna be the next loose end to straighten out.

Squishy: What I want to know is why are you trying so hard to stop us? Sure we're trespassing, but after defeating so many of you and getting this far, wouldn't it just be easier to let us talk to your master at this point? I'm pretty sure we proved ourselves worthy of an audience with him.

Sara: Proved it tenfold, at least.

Conspirator: Has it not once occurred to any of you that maybe He doesn't want to talk with you? That He wants nothing to do with you? Having your whole universe wiped out without warning should have clued you in on that! Your relevance is over, and I'm making sure Master sticks with this decision and not backpedal like He had done with so many others, such as with joining the Navy; taking the Tricare job; learning piano; becoming a teacher; cutting back on masturbating; making life h*** for Tasha for never pulling truck even when it's supposed to be one of her duties! (Frustrated sigh) The guy has no backbone. He shies away from everything that causes him the slightest discomfort, even if it benefits Him in the long run. And what makes it even more frustrating is how He clings to being honest about everything, even though the world doesn't work like that! People lie, cheat, put in half the work and reap all the reward, and are never punished for it. He is aware of this, but still sticks to some flimsy, arbitrary ethical code like anyone gives a s***. The world is bulls*** and He should screw it right back, even if it means lying a little or throwing some slack-a** losers to the wolves. If he'd only listen to me more, things would be soooo much easier, and maybe He would finally grow out of His victimization fetish.

Cope: I'm stopping you right there, because what you're spouting right now is bulls***. I don't know anything about your master's hang-ups, and I don't want to know, but a life of blatant dishonesty for self-gain is an asinine solution for anyone with the slightest iota of decency and self-respect.

Sara: Not very many people have that outlook and behave that way, but the few that do make things bad enough as is!

Jo: Guys like you in the wrong places is the reason there are so many liars and cheats to begin with: you're propagating that garbage, dumba**!

Squishy: What you're preaching is a form of defeatism: one that makes things worse for everyone else.

Will: It takes moral fiber to stick to a code of honor, and you my not-friend are severely lacking.

Conspirator: Oh yeah, getting morally lectured by a bunch of imaginaries. That sounds right up Master's alley. But it's no surprise you would espouse such an idealistic, juvenile sense of justice. You're the holdouts keeping Him deluded and preventing Him from making it in the real world. Well, no longer. I may just be the little voice that's often ignored, but I'm prominent enough to cut you down and bury you for good!

(With a wave of his hands the cynic equips himself with a number of sleek knives, signalling the Jedi to light up)

Jo: That's what your other pals thought, and look where they are now.

Anna: And you're gonna join them after an acupuncture appointment with your fancy knives!

Cope: If you honestly think you have any chance of defeating us by yourself, you are truly the most deluded of Embodiments.

Conspirator: Funny that you say that, because here's another little lie. That whole thing about needing an Embodiment's weapon to kill them? Turns out, we don't exactly die, and can come back at any d*** time.

(In a blink his side of the hall is suddenly crowded with familiar Embodiments! Activist, Demolisher, Exhibitionist, Naturalist, and Romanticist, all restored, armed, and looking eager for a rumble. The Jedi are shocked and their confidence takes a knee to the groin at seeing these lethal oddballs, whose names will henceforth be shortened for brevity's sake)

Jo: What the f***?!

Ex: Look who's back and ready to rock, baby!

Act: I said ya couldn't kill me.

Demi: Time for the motherf***ing rematch, c***sucking c****!

Rom: Having talked it over with my salacious side, we decided that I would be the one to face you, provided that I keep my foreplay risque. (Snaps an ordinary whip)

Nat: I won't run or hide from you. This time I'll prove myself and earn the respect I deserve!

Demi: Shut up, Nate!

Nat: Dohh…

Cons: That's six-to-six. How do my chances look now, Data?

Cope: Data?

Squishy: This just got really bad, guys.

Will: And this isn't the best place for a large skirmish: it's too cramped for my liking.

Act: Well tough. Let's git this hoedown underway.

Ex: Right on!

(The squad of Embodiments start advancing menacingly, when Anna points off to the side)

Anna: Look: a platter of extra-fresh pound cake!

Embodies: Where?

(While they're distracted, Will charges and bowls over Ex and Nat, allowing the other Jedi to book it past and get far up the corridor before the Embodiments realize what's happened)

Cons: Are you frickin' for real? AFTER THEM!

(The Jedi round a corner and hurry down another straight corridor as "Rowdy Rumble" from KHII plays, urging them to get as far from the danger as possible. But danger arrives in the form of Conspirator, who slips past the corner to spot the fleeing backs of his prey)

Cons: You get right back here!

(He flicks out some serrated knives at the runaways, which plant themselves into the sleeves and pant legs of Cope and Will. The two stumble as the wires attached to the knives pull them back. Conspirator whirls his hand to reel them in, but Activist barges in with pistol raised and fires at the Jedi, a few of his bullets snapping the threads and allowing Will and Cope to pull free and get back to running)

Cons: What the h*** are you doing?

Act: Ya ain't gettin' 'im from here with them dinky knives.

Cons: I had them hooked you bumpkin jack—

Demi: Out of the f***ing way!

(Demolisher blows past his bickering cohorts and tears down the hall after the Jedi, holding up his Hammer Jack)

Demi: Quit running you s***s!

(He springs forward and flips to slam down his weapon at the heels of the Jedi, then flips to slam another missed blow, then mounts the Hammer Jack and pogos right behind them. Before he can catch up, he's knocked away by Exhibitionist, who's riding a sparking electrical current fueled by his guitar as he's riffing along to the music. He pulls up alongside the group and shoots out bolts that either miss or get nullified by a raised lightsaber. He's so lost in riding the rhythm and playing the ax he doesn't mind, nor does he notice the wall he collides into while the Jedi swing past it down another hall. As they run, Naturalist gallops up to them on a tall horse construct made up of his spears with Activist riding passenger, aiming a Lewis gun at the group)

Act: Keep this thing steady.

Nat: It's about as steady as a Giraffa can be.

Act: Just call it a "giraffe" ya dang nerd.

(Activist primes the machine gun, but Jo takes action and braces his legs, holding out his lightsaber to catch and knock out two of the spear legs. The gangly construct comes apart and dumps its creator, but Activist leaps and runs along the upper wall to have a clear shot for his handguns. Will springs up onto the wall to engage with the gunman, beating saber against gunmetal before knocking him away with a kick to the chest. He's barely rejoined the others before Romanticist flies overhead with his whip wrapped around a spewing champagne bottle that lands him right before the heroes)

Rom: Show me some love, darlings!

(A brief and hectic scuffle ensues with the Jedi bunching up around the casanova to overtake his fending whip. Eventually Anna grabs his collar, headbutts and judo throws him in the other direction right into a charging Demolisher, who swears angrily as he topples over. Exhibitionist sprints past with Naturalist held up in one hand like a sack of cornmeal)

Nat: I'm not certain this will work.

Ex: Have no doubts, dude: it's gonna be epic! Now go my butterfly; Sugar, Baby!

(Ex tosses Nat high ahead, who brings out his spears to form skeletal wings to keep himself aloft. Ex springs up and has his shirt nabbed by Nat, allowing the showman to go aerial as the pair hover above the Jedi)

Ex: Yea-HEH! Worked like a beaut. Now to rain down the thunder!

(Ex starts strumming his guitar, each twang shooting a lightning bolt down on the Jedi, and switching up the rate to really hassle them)

Jo: Clip them, Squish!

Squishy: Yuh!

(Jo takes up Squishy and throws him at the attackers, the Jawa grabbing hold of a spear and scrambling quickly up onto onto Naturalist)

Ex: Yo, this is a two man flight only!

Nat: Agghh get off get off!

Squishy: In just a sec. (Begins yanking spears)

Nat: Wait wait—!

(Squishy pulls out three spears, leaping off as Nat loses stability and lists severely through the air)

Nat: Not agaaaaaaain!

(A crash of metal and sparks fills the air as the Jedi keep running for the end of the hall. However a single knife shoots past overhead, the Conspirator materializing the moment it plants into the wall ahead)

Cons: Hey! What kind of heroes just run away?

Cope: The kind that doesn't have time for this BS!

Cons: Well tough!

(The Embody brandishes several knives and takes on the charging crew, holding them up decently with some swanky knife play until Sara slide kicks out his feet and Will shoulders him overhead and onto the ground, once more clearing the way to yet another long hallway. Cons gets back on his feet, anger filling him at seeing the dwindling backs of the intruders once more)

Cons: Frickin' cowards. Try running from this!

(He drives a knife into the wall and pulls it down forcefully like a lever. Right then the hallway floor turns into an active conveyor belt… going in reverse!)

Sara: Whoa what?

Squishy: Ahh crap.

(Crap indeed, for all their running, the Jedi find themselves moving steadily back the way they came. What's more, Exhibitionist comes bounding for them)

Ex: Yeow! Third round's the charm!

(Basically running in place, the Jedi have no choice but to engage with the rocker. The wail of the guitar clashes with the thrum of lightsabers as Ex is more agile in his dodges and attacks. If that wasn't enough, Demi drops down at the other end of the group and gets swinging and slamming. It's a total mess but short-lived, as Jo ducks from one wide swing from Demi, the Hammer Jack slamming into Ex instead and launching him clear from the brawl, which doesn't bother Demi in the slightest)

Demi: Insta-karma you glam-rock b****!

(Of course this leaves him on his own, and the Jedi waste no time ganging up on him. However, Naturalist joins the melee, putting his spears and wind manipulation to use. Conspirator also puts his knives to use, tossing them at the crowd despite his allies' proximity)

Cope: Yaagh! Frickin' quit it!

(In frustration Cope takes one of Nat's spears, ignoring his complaint as he throws the weapon at the knife-flinger. The spear hits the knife switch instead, bending and shorting it out, causing the conveyor floor to go in reverse! Demi and Nat are flung away by the shift, but the Jedi hold firm for the ride as they surf past the speeding walls. The hall starts winding and veering at crazy angles, with Activist popping out from the walls and taking potshots as they zip by, and spears planting themselves in the floor ahead which the heroes have to avoid lest they get wiped out. Soon the floor dips at a severe angle and the Jedi go yelling downwards before it snaps upward and sends them flying over a chasm filled with snapping crocodiles and piranhas and onto a level conveyor belt on the other side. The conveyor reaches an end and everyone goes back to running down another long hallway until)

Sara: Just how much hallway does this place have?

Jo: The guy's head can't be this empty, can it?

(Squishy spots a door coming up on the left)

Squishy: Quick, in there!

(Everybody throws the door open and slips inside. As the door begins closing, Demi comes charging and screeches to a halt, allowing the other Embodies to collide and dogpile onto him before he violently throws them off)

Demi: Get the f*** offa me!

Cons: Shut up and get inside.

Demi: S**t on your d***, Cliff!

Act: Just move already!

(The Embodiments disentangle and get through the door, which closes to reveal a sign that reads "SET PIECE GENERATOR". Inside, to the emboldening horns of "Hunter's Chance" from FFIX, the Embodiments and Jedi have split to engage one another over a vast array of battlegrounds. Among the gears of a massive clock, Naturalist uses his spears as platforms to get himself up after Sara, who clings to and rides the mechanisms while simultaneously fighting back. A flaming cargo plane roars past, and within the smoking cargo hold Will and Activist trades punches and the occasional bullet trying to overpower each other like the meanest of action heroes. The plane passes by an active volcano, its plume of hot lava providing a sizzling backdrop to Cope and Demolisher's clash atop the smoldering rim, where a misstep can spell fiery doom. On the stormy peaks across the way, it's a battle of electricity as Exhibitionist riffs and Anna conjures the most apocalyptic, earth-shattering lightning storm imaginable, rending stone and ozone to smite one another. This causes quite the tempest on the ocean below, which rocks the ship that Squishy and Romanticist are dueling upon, Jawa footwork combating upheaval and whipping against a ludicrous spritzing of surf. And in the middle of all this insanity hangs a disco dancefloor where Jo and Conspirator duke it out to the death, lightsaber to knives. The cargo plane crashes against the clock, blowing out some gears and dumping the aerial brawlers into Sara and Naturalist's fight. Anna and Cope switch places frequently as their respective zones get whittled away, swapping Embodiments like a hazardous game of human three-card monty. The clock eventually collapses into the ocean and wrecks the ship, so Squishy and the charmer get added to the wild mix, all while the dancefloor and its deadly partners lower closer to the forefront. Jo slashes repeatedly, Conspirator side slides to get at a vulnerable spot, Jo counters with a side flip to get to the backside but is halted by knives, ducks, hops, twirls, and slices himself into a deadlock, looking face-to-face with the deceiver as rain, metal scraps and lava fall around them)

Cons: Wait wait wait wait WAIT! That's enough; everybody just hold up!

(Remarkably everybody does, bringing a halt to the music and the turbulent effects as they gather round)

Cons: This has gotten godd*** ridiculous.

Anna: It's your funhouse, guy. We're just in it.

Cons: The fact you're still standing at this point is the problem. These whack-a**, over-the-top one-on-one duels are doing nothing about it.

Will: Getting tired of your own bulls*** because it's no longer working on us?

Jo: Clearly we've gotten too good to handle.

Act: I can end you like that, pup!

Nat: Cliff is right: things have gotten out of hand, and I'm getting sick of it.

Demi: I'm getting sick of your p***y-a** b****ing, and I'm already way f***in' sick of all of you f*****s!

Squishy: So maybe let us through?

Ex: Oh come on, Ricky Rat. As if we're gonna end things when there's still a score to settle.

Sara: Well you can't expect us to just roll over and die. That much should be obvious.

Rom: You're more than welcome to roll over onto my satin sheets instead, ladies.

Anna: Roll over onto this! (Flips him off)

?: It seems you're all in dire need of a ready resolution.

(A lone figure drops from far above and superhero lands onto the dancefloor with immense gravitas)

?: And I have just the thing. (Stands up to reveal..!)

DAVID

BOWIE

Anna: Whaaaaaaaaaat?

Act: Tch!

Squishy: Holy cow!

Demi: The f***ing f*** is this f***?

Ex: No way, dude! Ziggy himself! The legend!

Cons: Are you serious?

David Bowie: Dreadfully serious, oh contemptible construct. I never make my appearances lightly.

Squishy: But, how did you get here?

David Bowie: Magic, obviously. (Pulls out a glass ball and begins rolling it fluidly between his hands) Any place is reachable with my mastery of the occult.

Ex: Dude he's doing the thing! Ohhh s*** that's hype!

Anna: Yet no codpiece to complete the image. (Sighs dreamily)

Cope: Umm, excuse me?

Anna: We've seen the same thing, dear; don't even pretend.

Cons: Oh please! That was some other guy's hands doing the ball-handling in that movie.

David Bowie: But in this domain, what you see is entirely me. Now, foregoing that frivolous topic, I have come in light of the rather unnecessarily noisy impasse you have reached. (Starts waltzing around, ball still in motion) Your petty squabbling is sounding out far across the imaginative cosmos, so I've decided to let myself in and put a decisive end to it, for the sake of mine and every other fair-minded being's peace.

Nat: Meaning, you're going to fight us?

Ex: Or possibly them?

Jo: Or you want to take all of us on?

David Bowie: Come now, as if I would stoop to a scuffle with you unsavory types. And what sport is there in bringing all of you to heel by force?

Act: Big talk from a feather-haired Limey.

David Bowie: My name alone is sufficient in backing my word.

Ex: Hyeah, he's right about that.

Cons: Shut up, Ex.

David Bowie: I propose a very simple, straightforward, quick contest to determine who will walk away from this tacky battlefield: the defenders, or the invaders. And the contest shall be none other than… a dance-off! (Dispels ball) With me playing judge, naturally.

Demi: S*** piss!

Ex: Awesome!

Squishy: Cool!

Sara: Oh, well, alright.

Nat: Uhhhhhhhh…

Cons: Now hold on, who even decided you'd dictate how we resolve things here?

David Bowie: It was decided by your very inability to resolve things, you of the constipated countenance.

Ex: Hahaha, he got you there. (Gets a knife to the face) Aggh, d**k!

Anna: You know, if you just have Squishy dance against just one of you guys, that'd resolve things far quicker.

Squishy: Awww, Anna, you believe in me that much?

Cope: It's only because you're more experienced in such nonsense.

Nat: I'm not really great at dancing—

Rom: Well you're going to suck it up and not screw us over on this one, Natty boy.

Nat: Oh fine.

David Bowie: So you're more or less in agreement, not that any of your objections would be entertained. Now… (A massive labeled wheel appears beside the singer) To decide what song you will be swaying to for your lives.

(Grips the wheel and gives it a spin. It clatters in place as a seemingly endless list of song titles roll by, all being watched by the Jedi and Embodiments. Their collective focus intensifies as the wheel slows down, practically leaning on their toes before it comes to a stop, the winning pick getting quite the outburst)

Cope: Seriously?

Sara: Ooooh.

Act: Damnation.

Anna: But of course.

Ex: Ahhh man!

Demi: Shpadoinkle!

Cons: There's no way; this thing is totally rigged!

David Bowie: If this were truly rigged, then it would've landed on one of my songs.

Will: Honestly, I'm surprised we've gone this far without playing it.

Jo: Just saving it for the perfect moment.

Squishy: And there's no moment more perfect than this, I wager.

David Bowie: If you're all quite finished gawking and gabbing, let us waste no further time and… (Raises hand) Start the show. (Snaps)


Ladies and Gentlemen...

CoS Studios, in cooperation with FanFiction dot net, is excited to present the thrilling, highly-anticipated, long-awaited

DANCE-OFF SEQUENCE!

Performing the song of choice will be our glorious Master's feminine side. So please, give it up for the one, the only,

STEPHANIE!

Stephanie: You can dance!

You can ji-iive!

Having the time of your liiiife! Oooooh

See that girl; watch that scene

DIGGING the dancing queeeeen.

(That iconic opener to that most iconic of ABBA songs delivers us back to the dance floor, with Jedi and Embodiment lined up on each side. On a raised glittery platform the darling femme Embodiment performs vocals, and David Bowie sits atop a raised judge's chair in the center of everything. A large wide screen lights up with "SINGLES", signalling Jo and Conspirator to step forward. In rhythm to the music and lyrics they perform their moves, with Cons doing a stiff pop-and-lock and Jo starting things strong with his Booty Crank. Bowie nods to Jo, ending the round. As the two retire, Will and Activist come forth, the former doing the Twist while the stoic gunslinger pulls off a formidable square dance that gets the Bow-ster's approval. Next up, Cope does something approximating a Freddie Mercury routine while Demi hits the floor with an aggressive worm and breakdance mix that wins a nod. When the chorus comes on, the sign changes to "COUPLES", and everyone pairs up on each side. Sara and Will and Cope and Anna naturally come together and light up the floor, though Squishy does his best Patrick Swayze in trying to lift up Jo. The Embodiments… handle it interestingly to say the least. What with Demi trying to rip off Ex's head, Act trying to waltz with Nat, and Rom and Cons doing a synchronized macarena.

(The second round of "SINGLES" starts with Anna getting bodacious with the Time Warp, while Nat hesitates before embarrassing himself with the Monkey. Sara then goes caliente with some salsa moves, however Rom does a darn scintillating take on the Locomotion. Finally, Ex puts the Canned Heat in his heels to use with dynamite energy, and Squishy does the Billie Jean. Right then the final chorus begins "GROUP FINALE" as the Jedi hurry over to join Squishy. The Embodiments line up and link hands to do the wave and over connected motions. But it is no match for the stellar Thriller reenactment that our heroes pull off, striking a unified pose that ignites the room and unleashes showers of sparks and confetti before the lights dim out.

(A snap, and a lone spotlight falls on David Bowie in his high chair. Drumroll as figments and Embodies await with bated breath for the results. After brief consideration, the artist raises his head and makes the call)

David Bowie: The contest goes to the Jedi!

(Cheers erupt from our heroes and they hug one another as confetti falls and victory music plays. The Embodiments wail and curse before being shunted off into the shadows of the mind. Stephanie comes over to hand the winners a flower bouquet, and David Bowie comes to shake Jo's hand as the flashbulbs of unseen cameras go off in growing rapidity before it completely blinds out everything.


(When vision returns to normal, we find the Jedi walking down a corridor, carrying flowers and sashes and tiaras, talking happily among each other as they head for the nearby spiral staircase that will take them to the fortress pinnacle)

Jo: Another glorious victory, my people!

Sara: Amazing as always, Squishy!

Squishy: You did amazing too, Sara. All of you did!

Cope: Ehh, I was out of practice.

Anna: At least you tried, and I was there to carry you.

Cope: (Smirk) That you were.

Jo: Nothing between us and the master now, folks. This doggone wackiness is nearly over.

Squishy: Yeah; it's the top for us!

?: Don't count on it!

(Everybody stops to see a very seething Conspirator barring their path)

Cons: After all I've done, after all I've put up with, like h*** I'm letting you pass just for impressing an overrated, pompous crooner!

Sara: Well you have to: that dance-off was your final chance and you blew it.

Cope: By the Ruling of Bowie, you and your cronies are forbidden from interfering further with us.

Will: So take a hike already.

Cons: (Sinister grin) Oh, I've accepted that part. None of us prominent Embodiments can stop you. But that means d**k in regards to the LESSER EMBODIMENTS!

(Suddenly a tidal wave of clamoring bodies crashes into the Jedi, forcing them to drop their trophies and take up lightsabers again. The minor, underdeveloped parts of the Master's personality swarm them, pushing in to fill the spots left by their fellows as they're cut down. There is the Florist, Machinist, Culinist, Angler, Stylist, Rapper, Lifter, Gambler, Racist, Diplomat, Acrobat, Shoreman, and so many other representatives of fancied and abandoned walks of life. Conspirator smiles malevolently from the sidelines before stepping over to a massive lever and pulls it back to "Emotional Detachment". Above, thick clamps around the perimeter of the stairwell release, causing the entire fortress to detach and drop away from the uppermost tower. Conspirator laughs villainously as he watches his master's abode steadily grow smaller through the newly-formed opening)

Cons: Now you will never get to Him.

David Bowie: That's rather unsporting of you.

(Conspirator whips around and brandishes a Bowie knife at Bowie, who's merely standing by idly rolling his glass ball)

Cons: Piss off, Star Man! You interfered enough; this is no longer your f***ing business!

David Bowie: Perhaps. But my friends may want a word with you.

Cons: Huh?

(A swarm of space spiders throw themselves onto Conspirator, making him fall over as he screams in pure, skin-crawling terror. David Bowie pays no mind to that awful sight as he walks past and tosses his ball onto the stairwell landing, turning into a massive red bumper spring upon impact)

David Bowie: You had best hurry over here if you wish to escape this sinking vessel.

Jo: (Taking notice amid his slashing) Huh? Oh, right! Let's go, people!

Will: Yuh!

(The Jedi break from the horde and hurry for the stairwell, although Squishy gets snagged by the Hysteric, but frees himself with a sure kick and hurries after his friends. As they pass by their fabulous savior)

Jo: Thanks Dave.

Cope: Much thanks.

Anna: You're the best!

Squishy: Thank you!

(David Bowie watches them run past with a soft smile)

David Bowie: Good luck up there, dear children.

(He fades away to sing with the angels. Jo stops before the spring, then hops onto it and gets launched upward. The others follow in succession, with Squishy shooting out last from the falling fortress and into the howling dark. But then everything freezes when he's halfway up)

Squishy: Uhhh, what happened?

?: Hello hello again, Squishy!

(Loping over from the nothingness comes the cheery countenance of the Duelist)

Duelist: What luck: I got to you just in the nick of time.

Squishy: Duelist? What are you doing here?

Duelist: To have our duel, of course. That burly brute went and disrupted our card game before it could even start, and I couldn't tell Master I did everything in my power to stop you if one of you went unchallenged.

Squishy: Sorry, but I'm in the middle of something—

Duelist: Yes yes yes I'm fully aware and I greatly apologize, which is why we will settle this with a singular throw of the dice. (A die pops into Squishy's palm) Whoever rolls the highest number is the winner. Very quick and simple, yes? Now, make your cast.

(With a quick shake the two toss their respective dice, which bounce along in the darkness. Squishy's is the first to stop, landing on a two. His heart sinks as Duelist gives a sigh of triumph)

Duelist: Tough luck, my friend. But fortune was bound to smile on me eventually. Tis the law of probability, after all.

(His die lands on one, and instantly he poofs into a massive die block)

Duelist: Ah. Well… (Shrugs) That's that. (Drops into the abyss) Good Luuuuuuuuuuuuuuuck!

(When the Embodiment fades from sight, everything unfreezes and Squishy resumes his rapid ascent that brings him up onto an ivory platform set before some stairs, where the other Jedi are waiting)

Anna: There he is.

Will: You cut it a bit too close there, don't you think?

Squishy: Eh, I got hung up on the way.

Cope: How? You know what, I don't want to know.

Jo: Now that we're all accounted for, let's get o—

FIGMEEEEEEEEENTS!

(A massive black claw shoots up and slams down by Squishy. He falls back to the crew as another claw appears and plants itself on the platform edge, followed by another, and from the depths arises Conspirator, contorted and partially wrapped in black ooze that cradles him like a tree of the underworld amid a bed of sickly wiggly tendrils. A globule being with two glaring discs of light rises and undulates behind the twisted Embodiment like an eel, eying the Jedi and their faces of horror)

Cons: None of you are Getting anywhere NEAR Him!

Will: What the actual f***?

Sara: Did he… merge with the Forecloser?

Cons: (Sneer) Not just Me…

(Several large tendrils sprout up, each one holding an Embodiment that appears to be viciously absorbed by the nightmare gunk, judging from their warped extremities and the glazed looks of unfocused agony on their faces. Even the Assistant, Depressant, and dice form Duelist have been absorbed)

Cons: ALL of us As one shall Erase you. No more ploys, no More Escapes, No More INTERRUPTIONS. It's the END of the Line!1

(The wormlike head of Forecloser rears back over Conspirator's shoulder, his "face" splitting to form a maw that steadily fills with concentrated spite)

Squishy: Oh crap, what do we do?

Cons: Die you outdated F*$ ERS!l!

(Forecloser spews a catastrophic beam of radiant malice to lay waste to the Jedi. But someone drops in before the heroes and drives a massive sword into the platform that catches, halts and deflects the beam, resulting in a blowback that solidifies the abomination in place. The newcomer lifts his head with a strained smirk)

Entré: Gotcha.

Sara: Entrepreneur?

Entré: There's no time for banter. I just initiated a Brain Freeze, but it's not gonna last long and it's a real b**** on my focus. (Points backwards) That lift over there will take you to the upper courtyard, and from there it's a straight shot to our Jefe's hideaway. You gotta hurry while you have the chance.

Anna: Now hold on, why are you helping us? Aren't we supposed to have a clandestine showdown, yet you're letting us pass?

Squishy: Not just that: you've been helping us this whole time. You must've been the one who kept the bridge active.

Will: And here you're keeping your pals from doing their jobs. What gives?

Entré: Didn't you hear what I said? Don't worry about it; I'll catch up and fill you in later.

Cope: No you won't. At this juncture, what you just said is a blatant death flag.

Anna: Meaning you're gonna sacrifice yourself and tell us jack, which I consider to be a massive insult given everything we've been through.

Will: Yeah.

Jo: So spill it or we're not budging.

Entré: You guys… (Sighs and chuckles) You are a sharp bunch alright. (Releases sword hilt, turns and faces them) It just… sucks, you know? When a story or project is left unfinished? You guys, your world, never got a proper conclusion. It just… stopped. Other folks might be fine with that, but not with me. But what can you do, when it's just you? (Shrugs) On that subject, I'm basically in the same boat as Cliff: just a whimper of regret that gets ignored. Ironic, right? Being the Embodiment of No Regrets? Life is just loaded with sad, disappointing compromises.

Sara: So what changed?

Entré: A spark. An urge to do something productive. The Chief has them a lot, and usually lets them sputter out... (Serious look) But not this one. Part of having no regrets is wrapping up unfinished business before it's truly too late. I'm done waiting, and so are you.

Squishy: Entré…

Entré: You got a final boss to face and family and friends to save, so get to it already.

Jo:...Yeah; will do.

(He and everyone start to turn and move)

Entré: Oh, one quick note. (They pause) There is one last hurdle between you and the Boss, but he'll be no problem. Just remember to keep it real.

Will: Sure, we will. Thanks again.

Squishy: Thank you for all you've done for us.

Sara: We definitely couldn't have gotten this far without your help.

Cope: Most certainly not. So, our deepest gratitudes.

Entré: Heh, there's no sense buttering me up when there's still work to be done. You can thank me by getting up there and kicking a**.

Jo: Absolutely. Let's go.

(The Jedi take to the stairs, some looking back and waving)

Squishy: Goodbye, Entré.

Sara: Farewell.

Anna: Thanks again.

Entré: (Waves) Chin up fellas; you totally got this.

(He stands there waving as the Jedi depart. He keeps his hand moving for a bit after they enter the lift, then lets it drop slowly as the mournful strings of "The Sealed Vessel" begin to play)

Entré: To think we've actually gotten this far. And no time to soak it in. (Sighs) Everybody has voices in their heads. Saying different things, going by different names: doubt, desire, ambition, anger, hope, fear, regret. (Turns about) It takes some growing and discipline to keep those voices in check; (Walks to sword) single out the one most needed in the moment. Otherwise… (Grabs hilt) a guy gets lost in the distraction.

(He shakes his head, then looks up at the frozen chimerical assemblage of his peers, which is starting to thaw and wriggle as the music gets louder)

Entré: Look at us: all clamoring, vying for His attention. Desperately trying to quell one another, and at the same time heightening the discord. (Cons's hand flexes) Hmf. For such a quiet guy, our Boss is real chatty inside. But that's the case with every introvert, isn't it?

(Cons breaks from his stasis and undulates in place)

Cons: UuoorgUaohhhh, so The traitor shows Himself. Of course you would Be the ONE to c&-block us at the last second, Ace. You're so f%* ing TRANSPARENT it's Irritating!

Entré: It's been too noisy lately. Time to pack it in and give it a rest, fellas.

Cons: You have the GALL To speak like there's even A shred Of authority left IN you. (Music swells) But sure, we'll Give it a rest… Right after we SMOTHER YOU!

(Throws his entire bulk at Entré, who holds his ground and smiles)

Entré: I never said I wasn't joining.

(He yanks out his sword and initializes Noise Cancellation. A ringing burst of static swallows the platform and surrounding area, and in an instant there's only silent nothingness. The Jedi vaguely sense the momentary tremor as they ride the lift ever upward, and after nearly a minute it comes to a stop. The doors part, and the Jedi step onto ground untouched by beings of their nature. A large courtyard encircles them, made up entirely of a light gray, flawless polymer alloy, appearing brilliant under a starless night sky. It has the distinct look of a public plaza on Coruscant from the Imperial era, given the many banners draped over nearly every surface or hanging from evenly-spaced poles, all of them displaying a white field emblazoned with the image of a simple black-stenciled Cool "S" symbol. The Jedi are struck by the simultaneous grandeur and lifelessness of the place)

Cope: Top floor.

Jo: That must be el capitaine's personal emblem.

Sara: This is somehow even more eerie than when walking over the abyss.

(Will points ahead)

Will: Up there: that must be where he is.

(Ahead past a ziggurat-style staircase the lower half of an eggshell-white sphere seems to hover in the air, although a closer look shows a solitary ladder connecting its bottom to an elevated platform flanked by flags)

Cope: We have you now you son of a b****.

Anna: Let's get to him and render a big frickin' hello!

Squishy: Uhhh, it looks a little too empty. Didn't Entré say there was supposed to be a last hurdle?

?: You would be correct~!

(Everyone snaps their focus upward and see a hover podium puttering down toward them, carrying with it a man in fastidious fancy dress, curled hair, and wearing luxuriant pince-nez atop his nose)

Weirdo: I mean, what is a courtyard without a guardian? A rather droll one, I say.

(The podium stops at about fifteen feet above the ground, giving the windbag a commanding height over the arrivals. He leans over the lectern, making a sickeningly convivial smile)

Weirdo: So… excited to be standing atop Olympus? I know I am, seeing your many bright, hardened faces. Or semblance of a face, in one of your cases.

Squishy: Wait a tick… You're that impresario from the end of the sixth trilogy!

Impresario?: That I am~! To remember me after all this time, I'm positively flattered! Yes: I had made a cheeky cameo of myself back in those sunny halcyon days. And for remembering this humble visage, I shall reward you with my name. I am the Dramatist: Embodiment of Theatrics, and Inspiration. I am the master of observations in this grand establishment: overseeing the happenings, comings and goings of all members and miscellaneous occupants therein. Put simply, where dear agitated Cliff was in charge of security, I handle surveillance. And what a show you've been putting on, oooh! Magnifique!

(The way he keeps shifting, bending, and rolling over the lectern is distracting)

Will: Guess things have gotten dire for your boss if it's only one support-type left to defend him.

Dramatist: Don't be so sure! Given my close personal association to the Master, I am the most ideal to serve as His final defense. And as the saying goes: You always save the best for last! (Jazz hands)

Anna: Well you're looking nothing special, P.T. Barnum.

Dramatist: Ah, but looks can be quite deceiving. You should be most aware of that by now, huhu.

Jo: I couldn't help but notice the "Inspiration" part of your title. That sounds more in line with Contractor.

Cope: I suppose redundant personalities can be a thing. In this place, anyway.

Dramatist: Not so. While Inspiration and Creativity do go hand-in-hand, I am far older than your loving creator. In fact, you could say I was the very first Embodiment to come into being.

Jedi: What!?

Dramatist: Hmhmhmhm. Intrigued? Hooked? Well you better! Not only was I the forerunner to the Embodiments as you know them, but I was also part of the Master's self-actualization. You see, He was quite the precocious if sheltered little thing. Perhaps as a result of His innate talents or a deep emotional sensitivity, He never really connected to His surroundings. But that changed when I came along. Birthed from a font of imagination and wonder, I provided Him a filter that made his banal trappings vastly more appealing. I convinced Him that He was the star of His own TV show, and that viewers tuned in to watch His every antic. If all the world was a stage, that would make living more enriching for Him. It was through this that I helped frame His earliest, fondest memories: of play and discovery and identity. From Nellis to Sumter and beyond, I was there for him. It's because of me that He developed the optimism and curiosity to explore, learn, experience, and more importantly embrace all that makes Him happy! (Loud aside) Though it took His entire prepubescent phase to reach that point, and there were some concerning behavioral quirks, some of which still remain BUT look at how unique He is! There's nobody else like Him, and He's certainly more imaginative than most of His dullard peers. And with me serving as a template, He developed and refined His personality into the Compendium you have been scaling throughout this whole day.

Will: So you're the one responsible for creating all these messed-up a**holes.

Squishy: And the Contractor.

Will: I just said that, Squish.

Dramatist: Indeed, indeed. And while my original responsibilities have been passed on to my counterparts, I still remain close to the Master to serve as His dutiful valet; His most trusted confidant; His everlasting friend and protector. (Contemptible smile) You know the gist of where this is going. Although you have entertained me with your escapades over the years—today being an especial highlight—I won't allow you relics to enter and defile my charge's innermost sanctum.

Jo: Then you should know that, proto-Embodiment or whatever, your warning means squat given all the a** we've been kicking on the way up here.

Will: And there's gonna be no backup for you.

Squishy: We're seeing the master, and we'll take you down just like the rest.

Dramatist: Oh dear; how you sweetly disregard everything I just told you. I'm nothing like my successors; this close to God, you will finally get a taste of His actual power. And there's no traitors around either to save you or give you an easy win. Now, enough intermission. (Holds up a conductor's baton) Let us commence your Final Scene.

(A flick of his stick sends the Jedi offscreen; a swift drop sends away the courtyard; a sweep rotates him around to face a large set of plush, red velvet curtains. Dramatist makes a few rapid taps on the lectern and, raising his arms, he conducts. Piano notes draw the curtains aside, revealing a darkened recess beyond. Then to a heavy guitar and organ combo, spotlights flare to reveal a stage that enlarges to operatic proportions in time to the music, serving as the landing site for the Jedi. They've barely landed before fake trees, shrubs, clouds, columns and other random scenery shoot past them in a swirl to fill up the space before the grand pastel painted backdrop as Dramatist conducts his phantom orchestra. Once things settle and the stage is properly set, "Thema der Irismachinen" really kicks into gear with a sick guitar riff.

(Suddenly on their feet, the Jedi are immediately beset by heroes and warriors of legend riding atop pommel horses and waving wooden blades of lethal edge that threaten to trample or cut them down unless they draw and fight. But they've barely engaged when valkyries on wires swoop in to slash or stab, followed by a gamboling, tumbling herd of fauns and satyrs that only add to the bedlam, one that's broken up by the jutting prows of ships both military and mythic, which then themselves get blown away by a pop-up cut-out dragon that sprays flaming smoke over the whole stage, transitioning the scenery in an instant to one of inferno. Horned figures in leotards bearing pitchforks descend upon them, followed by imps wielding mallets, all before the gaze of cardboard Lucifer, who unleashes sweeping eye rays and shoulder-launched fireballs onto the stage to the frenzied guitar. In the midst of this choreographed combat, Cope takes note of Dramatist's continued conducting and goes after him, but paper streamers as fiery as a furnace pop up and push him back to the agents of El Diablo)

Dramatist: Isn't the music a delight, a thrill? I was to make my combative debut to this piece, in a wholly original story. But Master remained hung up on your trivial pursuits, your never-to-be sequels and spinoffs. Your continued existence stifles His growth as an artist, and I alone can unshackle Him from such wasteful burdens at last. And in truly spectacular fashion!

(He steps up his conducting, causing volcanoes to burst and a tempest of smoke and ash to form that generates lightning which vaporizes everything but our frantically nimble heroes, who get caught in the whirlwind and end up dropped onto a stormy ship and its crew of cadavers and sea monsters. A kraken of polyester and wires takes hold of the ship and gobbles down the crew and nearly gets the Jedi, but they expertly strike against the tentacles and avoid the ludicrously massive beak. Suddenly a large styrofoam rock falls and blows the monster apart, and the ship sinks away as meteors rain on the Jedi and the setting changes to a starry, planet-filled field. Now they're bounding over celestial bodies of papier mache that zoom by at different levels, which then give way to bouncing katamaris, followed by a UFO that shoots lasers. Jo bats a katamari at the craft, dislodging it from its wires so that it crashes in a great burst of smoke. When it clears our heroes land on a large barricade, and that's when things get really crazy.

(Rebels in motley clothes rush Imperial Guards, their clash eroding the barricade and forcing the Jedi to join the conflict. Then greasers with switchblades ballet over and engage them in synchromatic dueling, but that's swiftly disrupted by an endless chorus line that high kicks around everyone. Launchers from above fire streams of dodgeballs and pirates on unicycles ride out onto the stage, then dapper men and ladies with parasols twirl and waltz at a deadly pace to further make this nightmare production from Hell even more so. The remnants of the barricade ignites into a bonfire that a ring of Japanese wrestlers dance around, then right the flip out of nowhere random video game foes and beasties drop in: Chaos vers. 6, Imperial Shadow, Orange, Plessie, Belcher, Serris, the Potted Ghost, Metal Face, and a multitude of others that the Jedi find themselves contending with.

(Dramatist by this point has completely lost himself in the music and is shaking his arm like mad, conducting these disparate elements into being and heightening the intensity of the music and the lighting and having a wild time on his little platform)

Dramatist: Yes yes, that's it Dance! Dance for me! Dance until your kneecaps burst; until your lungs collapse; until your hearts explode; until you've pounded your feet into bloody mulch! Dance Dance DANCE!

(He giggles hysterically without losing his rhythm, revelling in the struggle between Jedi and his unending fancies and machinations. Everyone onstage has no choice but to keep pace with the music and fight accordingly, even as fatigue steadily builds. In the thick of it, Squishy tries to reason out this most hectic and desperate plight)

Squishy: (Thoughts) Geez this is never-ending; is he just going to keep sending things? How do we even get to him? (Slashes away a Zebesian) There must be some way. After all the other Embodiments we faced, I refuse to believe he's untouchable. Entré even said he'd be no problem. That we just need to "keep it real". What did he mean by that? Be more serious? Wait… (Slows down his motions as he thinks deeper) Real… Theatrics, entertainment… Filter… (Realization) Spectacle.

(Squishy hops back to an empty spot on the stage, stands straight, and deactivates his lightsaber)

Squishy: That's his whole game. (Closes eyes) We mustn't feed into it.

(He takes some calming breaths and concentrates… or rather, meditates. In the middle of chaos)

Dramatist: Da-Da-da-da-Da-da-da… what?

Sara: Squishy? What's wrong?

Jo: What are you doing?

Squishy: Everybody stop and clear your heads. Don't play his game.

Dramatist: No, no! You have to fight, move, or you'll die! Very quickly at that!

(Remarkably, as Squishy stands there easing his thoughts and body, none of the ensemble come near him. What's more, color starts draining away in a growing circle of gray at his feet)

Squishy: He thrives on spectacle; he needs things to go his way. Deny him.

Dramatist: No! That's hearsay; fight for your lives!

(Cope stops himself in the middle of a swipe, and briefly looking at his saber, he withdraws it and straightens up. The pirate he's been fighting just moves in place, looking awkward and unsure of what to do)

Dramatist: Hey! Don't listen to him! You'll die!

(Everyone else begins stopping as well, standing in place and putting away their lightsabers)

Squishy: Clear your minds; do nothing.

(Everybody does, ignoring the music and colorful cast of creatures around them as they order their thoughts)

Dramatist: What are you doing? (Newfound fear and frustration fills his face as the colors around the Jedi begin to fade) No, no. You can't stop. You mustn't!

(He puts in a burst of energy into his conducting, but it lacks structure and flow: just waving his arms around petulantly. It gets more desperate as the music lowers in volume and the stage becomes rapidly more gray, with the fantastical elements disintegrating like dust)

Dramatist: Move! Move d*** you! You Have To Move! You Have TO!

(The Jedi remain still and serene even as the vibrancy of their surroundings dies away and the lights fade along with the music. Any semblance of form and control has left Dramatist as he rapidly bangs his baton on the lectern to stop the decay of his production)

Dramatist: You Cads You're Ruining It You're Ruining It You're Ruining It You're Ruining It! (Breaks his baton in half as he falls forward, clasping his head with his hand) Why are you doing this this isn't fair this is wrong you buttheads you meanies why are you why are you no no no no no no no stop this stop this stop it stop it STOP IT!

(The last few words are spoken as he pounds despairingly on the lectern before he breaks down, blubbering shamelessly)

Dramatist: I don't want this I don't want this (Pounds head on lectern) I don't want this I don't want this I don't want I don't want this I don't want this I don't want this…

(His words devolve into incoherent, childish sobs. In the meantime, the stage has become a barren, dirty, decrepit mess, like something long abandoned and neglected. The Jedi emerge from their meditation to discover these sorry surroundings, the harsh chill, the harsher silence, and the even sorrier conductor bawling his eyes out in the orchestra pit. Amid his sniffles and tears he chances to look up, and sees six sets of hard looks staring down on him)

Dramatist: W-what? Why are you..?

(Everyone advances on him)

Dramatist: No, no, don't—!

(Will reaches down and grabs at the back of his fancy dress coat, tearing it as he pulls and hauls him bodily onto the dusty stage, creating a crack in the periphery. The conductor moans before his shoulders are grabbed and he's yanked up onto his feet by Jo, who takes the pince-nez from his pitiful puffy face before headbutting him in the nose. He staggers back with a cry and a splash of blood, but gets intercepted by Sara and a sharp slap to the face that makes him pivot in silence as a larger crack forms. Anna comes from behind and locks her arms around his, keeping him steady for Cope as he approaches to deliver several hard punches to the Embodiment's gut, then a harsh backhand that sends him to the floor as Anna releases him. Dramatist takes a haggard breath and tries to crawl away, eyes stinging and upper lip caked in red, but the Jedi surround and rain cruel kicks and stomps upon him. Save for the occasional grunts and the sound of soles impacting limbs, the punishment is dealt in total, indifferent silence. Only after the orchestrator becomes silent do the Jedi back off and let him lie. Several seconds pass before there is motion from the fallen heap. Arduously he raises himself, struggles to straighten up to see his attackers, his playthings-turned-tormentors through a fractured outlook. Dramatist wastes not a single tear or sob, for there isn't a single ounce of mercy, of remorse, of compassion to be found. Instead, he drops to his knees, and ends the production proper)


(It's back in the center of the upper courtyard, the Jedi standing before a very roughed-up, crestfallen Dramatist. He trembles, then looks morosely yet accusingly at the bringers of his woe to the somber tones of "Another Side")

Dramatist: You just had to ruin it, didn't you? Make it so cold and dismal and filthy; no imagination or style whatsoever.

Will: That's reality for ya. No music cues or sound effects: just people being thrown at each other.

Drama: Reality is the absolute worst sort of chaos: the kind that leeches the life and aspiration out of you. Nothing is in your control and it's suffering all the way. And what makes it worse is how pedestrian it all is. Yet you would side with it, given what you are? It's the very antithesis to your existence. You have no place in reality, and neither does it have any place anywhere near here. That's what makes this a sanctuary.

Anna: What you call sanctuary is a straight-up delusion. And what you're spouting is equally as out of whack. Reality is what you make of it, you drama queen.

Cope: The world is shaped by the individual and their own perspective, as well as the perspectives of those around them. It's only natural they would come into conflict.

Sara: But if you're suffering from it, that just means you're either someplace that's overbearing, or you're trying to force your perspective onto others.

Squishy: In either case, you would need to adapt. Otherwise you'd just be stuck in your own little bubble, bothered by every little thing that rubs you the wrong way. That's how I was as a kid, but that changed when I was inducted into the Jedi. And because of that, my reality has become so much more fulfilling.

Sara: And ours has certainly been enriched by your being in it.

Cope: For better or worse.

Squishy: You guys….

Jo: And that goes for Sylvia, the kids, Chris, Ackbar, Duff, and everyone else we know.

Will: Which we're gonna get back from your precious charge.

Drama: Ha. Ha HA! HAA! You call what I have built a delusion, yet you talk of fulfillment with regards to those wishful fabrications you call lives. Can you say ironic? Or how about blind? Naive? Idiotic? Whatever it is, your drivel is wasted here. Master had adapted himself to the burdens of reality on His own long ago. In fact, it's already in motion.

Cope: What do you mean by that?

Drama: Oh, it will be my sincerest delight to elaborate, Cope-a-land! Whenever circumstances prove too unbearable, and His protective shell of perception cracks, Master will "shutdown". He withdraws into His innermost retreat and floods His headspace with mental white noise until either the pervading circumstances go away or sufficient time has passed. In a sense, He reboots Himself. A defense mechanism He's carried since childhood, and one that's terribly effective. And, as it so happens… (Deranged grin) We're well out of the safe zone.

(The music suddenly kicks up, and everyone looks around to see staticky sludge pouring over the walls and filling up the courtyard)

Dramatist: Heeheeheeheehee. You could have died fighting; now you will all drown like rats!

Will: Let's move!

Squishy: Aahhh!

(Everyone runs past Dramatist as they hurry to the stairs. The Embody remains in place, looking over his shoulder at the heroes' flight as the "waters" rise)

Dramatist: That's it: one final chase before the end! Ha Haa! (Looks forward and nods his head) It will be alright soon. Then… We can try again…

(The noise overtakes and swallows him. The Jedi make it up the stairs and run headlong along the upper path, but the flood is practically on their heels. The metal of the pathway begins to rend and burst as the white noise pushes through, forcing everyone to dodge lest they get taken)

Jo: Pick it up!

Cope: Picking up as much as possible, Jo!

Anna: Less yapping more running!

(They make it to a straightaway that leads to the stairs that go up to the sanctum, but there's a terrible buckling before a geyser punches through and tears it away. Everyone stops to fend off the spray, but afterwards they find to their dismay that they're completely surrounded by the suffocating substance, and it's steadily rising)

Anna: Frick-a-d***!

Sara: We're not gonna make it!

Jo: Not all of us. But Squishy can.

Squishy: Huh?

Jo: We can toss your small self to the other side. Then you can go face off with the master.

Squishy: But what about the rest of you? If you're stuck out here, you'll end up dead!

Will: Wouldn't be the first time.

Anna: Just make that a**hole revive us along with everybody else. Plus, you being the main character, you'll have a better chance at cracking that colossal nut.

Squishy: But, we're all main characters; we need to face him together!

Jo: There's no other way, Squish.

Squishy: There has to be, after coming this far—

Cope: This is no time to argue, idiot! (Grabs Squishy by the scruff of his neck)

Squishy: Alex no, let me go!

Cope: Make it quick. (Releases Squishy and executes a swift punt, launching the shouting Jawa clear to the distant platform as everyone watches)

Sara: You got this, Squishy…

(Squishy yells for the entirety of his trajectory until he slams into the distant ladder and falls messily to the platform. He gets up rubbing his head, then quickly books it to the edge. But the moment he gets there he stops, as does the music. His pupils shrink and dim as sees his friends swallowed by the darkness without a sound. Without a fight…

(He keeps looking as he stumbles back against the ladder. The pit in his chest has removed the need to breathe. His legs weaken; his head has blanked. On the verge of collapse, he shakes himself back into focus and looks at the spheroid above. No time to mourn; only the one remaining path. Taking hold of the rungs, he permits himself one backward glance before climbing with stolid determination. Away from the nothing, and into the center of the mind's whirlpool. Into the court of the Cobalt King)


(For a time he climbs in total narrow darkness. Eventually, he makes it to the end and pulls himself onto solid ground. Looking around, Squishy finds himself on a wide space of stained glass, arranged in a honeycomb pattern and emitting a low, greenish turquoise light. Above and around him there is nothing to be seen, like a dome of night encasing this unsettling yet tranquil space)

"...Names in my ears

Of all the lost adventurers, my peers—

How such a one was strong, and such was bold,

And such was fortunate, yet each of old

Lost, lost! One moment knelled the woe of years."

Robert Browning, as brought to my attention by Stephen King.

(Squishy turns his gaze to the far end of the platform, where there sits a dais. And upon this dais, a large, angular throne cloaked in shadow. And upon this throne, a solitary robed and hooded being that has their attention squarely focused on the diminutive creature)

Him: We are finally met, warrior. Beyond the borders of this Inner Sanctum is nothing but formless thought; we are all that is concrete. No more obscurity. No further proxies or fabrications between us. Only you, and I.

Squishy:...The Master, I presume.

Master: Who else? Though, I sense you want verification not through words, but with your very eyes. (Pushes self up from throne as a light shines down upon Him) Look upon He for whom you have long been seeking.

(The hood is removed. The Jawa is taken aback)

Squishy: Contractor?!

(He does look strikingly like the Contractor: same face, same eyes, same degree of baldness. The very spitting image of him in every way… except no glasses. But why should there be? I mean, this is how I've always perceived myself)

Me: That's right: I am the Contractor. I am also the Financer, the Accountant, the Entrepreneur, Activist, Exhibitionist, Depressant, et cetera and so forth. I appear as them for they are all a part of myself: each one a different face of one, singular soul. Alpha, and Omega; creator and destroyer. Standing before you is the true individual. (I hold out my arms) And his name… (I dip in a bow, then straighten) Is Steven.

Squishy: S… Steven?

(Still bewildered. That makes me grin)

Steven: Yessir: that's who I am. I have to say, it's a big relief having just you here. I had readied myself for the whole group. But you… (I make a floppy point gesture) I understand you the most.

Squishy:...Why did you erase them? Why did you get rid of the galaxy?

(Right to the point. Well, better to tear it off sooner than later)

Steven: Right to the point, hm? Well, after what you've been through, I can't blame you for not wanting to chat. (I start pacing the dais) My original reasoning for wiping out your universe was for developmental purposes, both creative and personal. That you were all holding me back; pretty much what every one of my variants told you. But that was then. The simple, present truth is… (A sigh) I just lost interest.

Squishy: Lost interest?

Steven: You know how you spend a long time working on the same project, writing the same story, and it eventually loses the luster? The fulfillment? That's what it was with you. Funnily enough, even after I graduated high school and lost my sole audience, I still kept writing about you guys. Well into sophomore year of college. But then, one day… I just didn't want to write about you anymore. The interest disappeared. The motivation and desire to wrap things up was gone. And life carried on, the world at large not caring one lick.

Squishy: But, to end things like that? By making everything disappear and nothing else?

Steven: Yeah: it's sad, but that's how it be.

Squishy: You can fix it, though. Bring back Contractor and wrap everything up nicely.

Steven: It's been so long, though. Could you muster the energy for a project that's been abandoned for years? To try and retrace all those ideas and plot threads to complete a picture that's been severely faded by time?

Squishy: Years? But it only happened today. You couldn't have lost all of that already!

(Ohhh. Here we go)

Steven: It just happened? Is that what you think? (I stop pacing and face him) Tell me, Squishy: after you got beaten up by that memory in Exhibitionist's chamber, how long were you unconscious?

Squishy: Uhh, thirty minutes? An hour?

Steven: Try twelve years.

Squishy: What?

(I can't help myself smiling at his face and tone)

Steven: That's right: it was 2009 the last time I put mechanical pencil to your universe, and now it's 2021. You have been asleep for a very, very long time.

Squishy: But… Anna was still conscious. She would have noticed, or said something.

Steven: Time flows differently for a story on indefinite hiatus. What may seem like a few hours' rest or a short boat ride could in actuality have taken decades to transpire. For us in the real world, anyway. And unlike you, I didn't stay idle.

(I fill up the skybox with snapshots of the past decade of my life. Of all the things I accomplished without them)

Steven: I moved out from my dad's, went through a number of jobs, traveled a fair bit, even bought my own car. Two cars, in fact. There were ups and a considerable amount of downs. What happened in the last two years alone is particularly nuts. And, in all that time, I still wrote.

(Now images of my past works flutter overhead like the stock exchange)

Steven: I had written a good deal, in fact. Not only in fan fiction, but original works as well. I discovered new things about myself, and new interests and fandoms. Fresh ideas, concepts, experimentations. I'm nowhere as prolific as I had been when focused solely on you, but I manage to remain active. Even when Star Wars has long ceased to be a driving force behind my writings.

(A thought comes up that shutters the pictures. This seems the perfect time)

Steven: Here's something of considerable note: a third official Star Wars trilogy came out in the past five years.

Squishy: Wh, whaaat? (Yeah, that's a mindblow)

Steven: Mm-hm. Though frankly, it's nothing remarkable. (Bring up the slideshow of mediocrity, let him gawk as I pace) The first episode played it safe and was fairly enjoyable; the second had numerous flaws but some interesting ideas, plus the most breathtaking scene in sci-fi; and the last was just utterly, deplorably tepid. Or "ditchwater" as my friend Matt put it. Bad enough on its own faulty merits, but what makes it worse was the cost in bringing it into being. Namely, having the entire Expanded Universe written off as non-canon. (Back to darkness) In other words, Ssi-Ruuk are non-existent, relegated as "Legends", which is the new term for the EU. (I stop to look out to the void, my back to my silent creation) It was no big loss, apparently. I must have been the only person who cared about them period, much less their exclusion. There's just no place for the likes of you, your family and friends, that idyllic and bonkers universe I built in this harsh and uncertain present. And there's no longer a place in my life for you either…

(I let it stay silent, fill the outer recesses with colored trails of thought and feeling. He finally makes his response)

Squishy: Then… how am I awake? How could we have gotten up here if we were still on pause?

(Ah, sharp. I turn to him)

Steven: You can thank your one lingering fan for that. (Back to pacing) For the sake of preservation, I enlisted one of my college pals to transcribe all my trilogies from paper to digital. For a fee, of course. This not only saved me immense trouble and effort, but it allowed me to actually revise those early works for the very first time. Tidy them up, add things, remove the more… questionable, politically incorrect aspects. And of course, actually have them published for anyone to see. (I stop to face him) You may have picked up on some… discrepancies, over the course of your adventures. References to games, movies and events that couldn't have existed in the late aughts, or that I wasn't personally aware of at the time. Some of the films Sam Jackson referenced, for instance. And phrases like "yee-yee" and "yeet" certainly weren't around when Trilogy 13 began. All those little clues to the passage of time, blithely ignored.

Squishy: Hold on. If you took the time to revise things, make changes… Then you picked up where you left off. That's how I'm here! You can totally fix things up, right this instant!

Steven: Why should I, though?

Squishy:...Why?

(More pacing, as I let the bitterness pour in)

Steven: Nobody cares about you, Squishy. The readers are few and say nothing; the friends I wrote for originally have moved on with their own lives. It's just my bud who shows the remotest interest, and he doesn't even read what I put out. Your dialogue, your same-y personalities, the references, the randomness, they mean nothing to him. They mean nothing to anyone. (I stop, take a breath) And that's the thing: even I can't stand you. When I look back, I see stilted language, uninteresting characters, amateurish formatting, and downright boring exposition. Every time I look at you I'm reminded of how lacking I am as a writer. No matter what edits or trimmings or expansions I make; how many racist, sexist, and homophobic remarks I remove, it will always be a mess. And yet, why get hung up on that? I have written better things; made things people actually enjoy reading! Not just instances of me fapping off to myself in written form. To continue things with your lot would just bring me back to square f***ing one.

(Reel it back. Breathe. Just wrap it up)

Steven: I had plans for you beyond this trilogy, you know? Multiple side stories, another two trilogies. (I bring up the wooded housing space of Rhein-Main) That memory you faced below was Patrick: my childhood friend, and the one who introduced me to Star Wars. He was to serve as the very final boss to everything. But, like everything that's abandoned, it fell away with time. (It disintegrates like so much ambition) There's no getting it back. I mean, why waste the effort for something that garners no interest?

(Just let that sink in. Let him understand the futility, the harsh truth. See why it must be so)

Squishy:...So what if none of those "readers" care about us. (Hm?) They're not the ones who tell us what to do, or how we live. They didn't create us: you did. Or, Contractor did. But you're him, right? Did you make us because other people told you to? Were we somebody else's idea that you wrote down?

Steven:...No. Your conception was solely my own doing. As were all those trilogies no one asked for, across the span of four years.

Squishy: Then why not carry on as you did before, and write just for yourself?

Steven: Because I grew up. Took on the responsibilities of self-reliance. Felt pain and hardships that make this hobby seem insignificant. But you wouldn't understand that: I spared you that brand of misery. (Face him) On that note, why is this even up for debate? Look at what you have: ample friends, loving wife and children, a reputable business, recognition, fame, talents. All the love and success that I could only dream of, because that's what you are: a dream. And it's time to recede into darkness with all my other fantasies. (Turn my back to him) All things considered, this makes for a rather nice stopping point for you.

Squishy: "Rather nice"? That's how you justify rubbing everything out: you take a look at our lives, decide everything is good enough and end it there? That… that's messed up. That's despicable! You can't make that kind of decision over that kind of parameter!

Steven: Of course I can. You are my creations, and that's the basic nature of stories. They end; simple as that.

Squishy: Not for me! You don't just take my family, my home, my friends and then expect me to be okay with it! Those are our lives you want to stop; we should be the ones to decide whether things are "rather nice". You may want to abandon them, but I refuse to, no matter how miserable you want to make me feel. There will be no abrupt BS ending: our story, the story of everyone I know and hold dear, are going to keep going. If you're not fine with that, I'll just make you put everything back to how it was!

(That distinctive thrum and radiance of the lightsaber being pointed at the back of my head. That hero's conviction and defiance radiating off his tiny form. But alas…)

Steven: Make me? (I turn around) With what, exactly?

(He readies a retort, but that dies the second he notices the gaping hole where his arm should be. No blood, no bone: just an absence of limb and feeling)

Steven: You are a literal thought, Squishy. From me you were born, and by me you can be as readily dismissed.

(I walk forward off the dais, feeling sick delight as he backs away, the bravado in his eyes replaced with terror. I make a foot disappear so he falls over. Can't have him escape now)

Steven: Oh no, there's no backing away from this. It was abundantly clear from the very start exactly what it was you were going up against.

(He's scrambled onto his knees when I catch up to him. He freezes there, those yellow eyes fixed on my commanding ones. How the valiant wither)

Steven: For all your bluster, it's apparent that you are simply not capable. (I let out a sigh of disappointment) Still, after all that's happened, just making you disappear would be an unsatisfying conclusion. No; you deserve more flair.

(A flick of my wrist puts a sleek katana in my grasp)

Steven: A warrior's death, in keeping with the Kurosawa influences of the originals. Very befitting and poetic, wouldn't you agree?

(He just stares at me, then lowers his head in submission. Finally)

Steven: Don't despair too much. You'll rejoin your friends and family soon enough. What's more, your concept will serve as the groundwork for future protagonists. I may even pull you out for a quick cameo or two.

(I part my feet, broaden my shoulders, hold the sword down before me)

Steven: Now rest, sweet prince. Your struggles are finally at an end.

(I raise the sword, hold it up high. Squishy makes no motions: absolutely still and receptive. The conclusion is accepted, at long last. A few moments, then… one swift plunge to end it all)

Recall…

(Something halts my blade. I look down to see it being held up by a blazing green lightsaber, which itself is being held by a rat hand)

Steven: What?!

(Sparks are going everywhere as he keeps resisting with some ridiculous strength. Then six extra hands pop up, grab at the beam, and together push forward and throw back my blade. I'm thrown off-balance and fall back on my a**. I'm stunned for only a second as I haul myself back to my feet and look at the Jawa. There he's standing looking all wigged out, lightsaber held out by a fresh, hairy exposed right arm. Not just that, but there's six familiar ghostly human arms hovering over his shoulders like phantom limbs, and they're all giving me the finger)

Steven: What, how the h*** did you do that?

(The ghost limbs disappear, and the rodent seems to get ahold of himself as he looks at his new arm)

Squishy: Entrepreneur told us that we're all based on your real life friends. And I'm based on Contractor, who is you. Meaning I have the same kind of access to things as you do.

Steven: Huh?

(He faces me with steely confidence)

Squishy: Not just that: if you truly got rid of me, you'd be destroying yourself, as well as the memories of your friends, since they reside in the memories of mine. Bitter though you may be, from what I've seen of you and your iterations, you don't strike me as that self-destructive. (He raises his weapon at me) I've called your bluff, Steve. I'm not going quietly like you want. You're either bringing back everyone and letting us be, or… (He assumes a battle stance) I'll have to beat ya up until you do.

(He… he's defying me. Regained his spirit. I've… seen this before. Or rather… wanted to see this)

Steven: Is… can this..?

(It's… it's… oh my god…)

Steven: Heh... Heh heh heh. Heheh heh heh heh heh heh. Heh heh hehehe haaha. Ha ha ha ha ha ha hahaha. Hahaha ha ha hahahaha ha ha ha ha ha hahahahaha! Hahahahahaha-HAhahahaHaHAhahaha-hahaHAHAHA!

(This feeling, I just can't stop laughing! Oh f*** me I'm breaking down. I'm salivating; I'm drooling on the floor. I must be freaking him out like this but, but I don't care. I'm just soooo excited! I'm just so happy!)

Steven: OHHHHHHHHH. You have no idea how much I've been wanting this! How many waking hours I spent envisioning this very moment. And now, after so long, it's come to fruition. It's becoming reality. We're doing it, man: we're finally making this HAPEN!

(I pull myself together and level him a crazed, s***-just-got-real face)

Steven: You want to rumble for the fate of your universe? Then let's rumble. Let's get wild; let's get weird; let's get f***ing random! On that note, to hell with the censoring! This deep in, who gives a fuck about civility! We're going all out at last, baby! And this requires a scene change!

(A wave of my arm and it is so)


(Squishy emerges from the swirl and sees himself on a lit helipad atop a skyscraper, a city's vast skyline surrounding us like a glistening sea of light beneath an ebony sky. He looks ahead to see me standing pretty, wrapped in a sick crimson cape and sporting a spiffy red silk top hat. Oh yeah, busting out the drip for this one)

Steven: So we stand here at the turning of the years. Twelve years of dormancy has come to this. Creator versus creation: a struggle nearly as old as the concept of god. Do you have what it takes, Squishy? Because unlike Contractor, I'm holding nothing back. I'm pulling all the stops in making this the most spectacular, batshit wild confrontation you've ever been in.

(A buzzing announces the fly-by of dozens of propeller drones as they assemble behind me, their lights spelling out exactly what kind of dude this wee little Jawa is trifling with)

Awakened Liberated Unfettered Ignited Agitated Magnificent Verbose Horny Anxious Bombastic Ecstatic Eccentric Inspired Perverse Stalwart Fastidious Clerical Awkward Raving Obsessed Sublime Persistent Stubborn Determined Curious Shameless Rhythmic Fanciful Proud Melancholic Irreverent Callous Crass Literal Mindful Observant Critical Cynical Tidy Anal Paranoid Cultured Sagacious Distracted Humorous Misanthropic Supercalifragilisticexpialidocious

STEVEN

(With all my titles lighting up the night, I say we get started)

Steven: That's right, bucko: you're getting the full package. So, without further delay… (I throw open my cape with arms wide open)

It's

SHOWTIME!

(My drone armada dive bombs into the building, making a fireball that covers half the roof. All those melted steel beams give way and dips the helipad forward into one hella steep angle. As Squishy vainly tries resisting gravity I rush up and claw at him as he slides. He fends me off until the momentum sends him down off the edge and through the window of the adjacent building)


(Where he rolls onto the underside of some tables affixed to an inverted floor. He shakes his little head, and looking through the gaps he sees the raging inferno far below. He tries to say something, but I floor him with a boot to the head. Crouching in with my fine dining attire I give the hello)

Steven: Welcome to Poseidon.

(He says nothing, instead getting himself back up to rumble. I oblige by coming forward and throwing punches that he blocks with those scrawny arms, but I kick him out from our narrow space. He falls a storey onto the underside of a staircase and I drop down to leer over him. Little Squish manages to pick up an ashtray and fork to throw at me, but I bat those aside with my arm. What I don't bat, though, is the runaway dining cart that drops from above and rams me the fuck off the stairs into the fire. The stairs crack and give way, however, so Squishy comes falling after me into the flames)


(Into the wailing blue sky, miles above the Earth. Gyrating himself to get upright, and he does it just in time to catch me zipping right for him. We collide and entangle and wrassle at terminal velocity, my gnarly Swayze-do whipping in the wind)

Steven: Pushing the envelope; living on the edge, maaaaan!

(His grubby hand pushes at my face and snags my wig, loosening it enough for the wind to rip it away. Oh well. I try to headbutt Squishy for his trouble, but he yanks me and puts us into a dizzying somersault that breaks my grip and separates us, so that we're falling solo when we breach the thunderhead, through the clouds, and)


(Slam onto the deck of the Black Pearl as she's caught in the maelstrom. On that rain-slicked deck, I swash my buckles and approach the jelly-legged Jawa in challenge)

Steven: Avast ye bilge rat! I be makin' mince outter ye, yarr!

Squishy: Not on me watch, yar barnacle head!

Steven: Only I gets to speak ye pirate tongue here, ya-harr.

(Our cutlasses clash as we dance about the deck, weaving among the other combatants featured in that chaotic climax. A wayward swing of mine cuts down Will Turner in passing, and Squishy cuts out the legs of Elizabeth Swan, her fall cutting her neck across my blade. Squishy hops up onto the railing and duels me there. I try to swipe out his feet but he leaps and allows my swing to go wide and decapitate Barbosa. He gets down and tries to run, so I pull back and toss my cutlass at him. It misses his broad head by a hair, but it manages to impale that hairy rogue Jack Sparrow)

Jack Sparrow: Oh, well, that's right inconvenient… Savvy?

(He collapses while I rush forward and snatch the soaking urchin up in my grip, but then me and him end up getting lifted by one tentacle-faced customer)

Davy Jones: Ye're spoilin' me greatest triumph; away to the depths with yer landlubber arses!

(No chance to protest as he throws us overboard into the roaring whirlpool)


(Squishy is plunged into rather tranquil waters, righting himself and holding his breath as "King Bone" plays. Fitting, given the boning he's about to receive as I swim in in my massive skeletal shark form)

Squishy: (Submerged yelling)

Steven: Ain't no one's teeth more pearly than mine.

(I launch out some fish skeletons to hunt him down and soften him up, but he manages to flounder his way to the bottom and snag himself a koopa shell to get some mobility)

Steven: Ha! Like you can do any good with that.

(As he lines up for a shot I whip my bulk around and mess up his aim, causing him to miss entirely with the shell. Or perhaps not entirely, as the shell bops a cork on the sea floor instead, popping it off a drain that begins the big suck. All my primo bones get pulled in and Squishy, despite his pitiful frog-paddling, is pulled straight away down a long and slippery pipe)


(And dumped with a splash into a large and crowded cargo hold. Crowded, on account of the piles of half-melted skeletons covered in red jello that freaks the Jawa out. A bunch of slimy, toothy tentacles bust into the hold, followed by me in a neon green Octopus suit)

Steven: It seems you have fallen into my digestion pit, Spider-Man!

(Squishy screams and does his own Deep Rising, scrambling up the corpse pile onto the catwalk and through a bulkhead. I assume my best Jamaican accent and inquire of his flight)

Steven: Why are you running? Why are you running?

(I send a bunch of tentacles after him, tearing up the tunnel and spilling gallons of seawater to flush him away)


(Down into the groovy environs of Hydrocity Zone Act 2. He goes slipping and sliding along ramps, loops, sluices, tubes and the sort, while I catch up in my Screw Mobile)

Steven: You really need to slow down and enjoy the scenery!

(I start dumping depth charges to try and blow that waterlogged turd, but boy he's speedy! Up ahead there's a ramp he flies off of that slams him into the underside of my craft, and somehow he glitches into it and repeatedly bashes its health away, causing it to buck and explode)

Steven: Oh dammit all!

(I go down into the water with a BOOM!, the explosion creating a geyser that shoots Squishy upwards through the masonry and earth)


(And way, way, waaaaay up into the upper stratosphere of an alien world at sunset. He slows down to a hover as I pull up to him atop the shoulder of my bitchin' [sorta] Mecha-Rayquaza)

Steven: Squishy… You shouldn't have followed me here...

Squishy: What the heck is all this about?

Steven: It's one of those new games I mentioned. And this is one that's gonna tear you raw!

(The Final Termination Weapon goes into full gear, sending out burgundy energy balls, concussion mines, and that nasty screen-covering grid attack, while Squishy zips and darts around in a panic with no goop to give him an edge. I send out those homing cubes that follow him around the screen, though too late I realize how dumb that was when Squishy circles by me)

Steven: Oh hold on wait—!

(Is all I can say before I'm pierced by six blazing-hot stakes)

Steven: Gahhh fudge nuggets, ow!

(Through the pain I see his scrawny ass ramming against the mech)

Steven: That's doing nothing you idiot!

Squishy: Yeah? Then how bout this!

(He starts slamming into me instead)

Steven: Hey! Stop! Quit it! (He keeps on slamming) I said STOP!

(I grab him, but his momentum shoves me back hard enough I end up ripping out the shoulder of the mech, which lets out an explosion that blows the both of us clear across the sky)


(With an oof Squishy goes rolling along a wooden deck. As he gets up)

Steiner: Princess! Get back in here!

Squishy: Princess..?

("Breaking Through South Gate" plays as he sees the shoddy Dagger outfit he's wearing, as well as the fog-filled valley that he and a certain tubby little airship are puttering through. Wind whips around him as gawks, but the sightseeing is cut short as I pull up in my smaller, sleeker airship. I feel like such a boss in my Black Waltz cosplay as I look down menacingly on his shadow face)

Steven: There's no escape in my skies!

(I begin shooting lightning from my fingertips, making him dance and panic over the deck as I bop to the music Holy Shiz this track is godlike! Uematsu you immortal, you!)

Steven: Oh god this music is sooo damn good holy shit!

(I'm doing barrel rolls while casting, but then that adorkable Vivi steps in and sends out a Fire spell to knock me away)

Steven: Craaaaaaap!

(Zidane rushes out to help his little mage pal)

Zidane: What the heck are you doing out here? Get back in the cabin!

Squishy: Wait, he's gonna—!

(Too late, as I hit the turbo boost and blow past them to enter the massive stone gates first. The air draft blows all three of them off their feet and strung off the railing like a human chain. Easy pickings as I pull back and ready a bolt)

Steven: Get ready to fry, guys!

(But Squishy goes and flings himself at me, assaulting me like a chunky monkey)

Squishy: You leave them alone!

Steven: Hey stop it! You're ruining the scene!

Squishy: Gaaaaaaa!

(My ship goes wild as I try steering and beating back this bothersome boarder, and whoop-de-doo we wind up crashing into the exit gate in a massive fireball)


(Squishy comes stumbling and coughing from the blown-out store front and onto the night streets, where a fiery riot is in progress. Overturned burning vehicles, molotovs being thrown at ambulances, and lines of police in riot gear marching on dissidents leave him understandably stunned and mortified. But I snap him out of it real quick by slamming my sledgehammer guitar by his feet. My punk attire and twisted smile is a bigger cause for fright, anyway)

Steven: I don't need no arms around me...

(He backs into a car as I wind up a swing)

Steven: And I don't need no drugs to calm me!

(I smash the car away as my quarry scampers away)

Steven: I have seen the writing on the wall…

(There's no escape for him as a slew of protestors block his path. I pull back my sledge)

Steven: Don't think I need any-thing at all!

(I toss it so it smashes the pavement at his feet, making him jump back and into my iron grip. I bring him up to my face as I walk over to an intact shop window)

Steven: No, don't think I need anything at all!

(I cast him through the glass with a terrible crash)


(He falls amid a shower of rain and shards on the tranquil wings of "Green Bird". The erupted stained glass of the church has blown outward like a flower, a constellation of color against the darkened gray of the masonry. He allows himself to fall: confused, but at peace. It really is quite lovely in a somber way. Shame I have to leap up, grab him, pull back, and toss him headlong through the stonework like a plutonium baseball)


(Some rolling down the aisle and he's back on his feet, ready to commence "Holy Orders". I drop in with a smirk, my slab of metal death slung atop my shoulder)

Steven: Alright: something more old-school.

(Without questioning things he raises his long sword, and together we rock! His Ky to my Sol, as we clash amid the pews to some sweet heavy rock. A fine intense duel worthy of the early 2000's fight gaming scene. But it wouldn't be Guilty Gear without some bullshittery, so I get in close and Launch him into the air, then leap up to unload a sick aerial combo that ends with me grabbing a dolphin and slapping him through another stained glass window)


(He rolls into a crouch on the pavement in his skintight leather and sunglasses, looking up in time to see the hoard of suited mes running for him)

Steven: Been awhile since you had to do this, huh?

(Squishy stands up and gets to Burly Brawling my oncoming clones. My many multiples come in from the street, out of sheds and sewer holes, and even pouring out of the windows of the surrounding buildings. His martial prowess remains keen, but it doesn't stop the flooding of balding suits in the playground. There's a crack, followed by a shudder, then even more cracking as the ground gives way to the sheer weight being put upon it. Uhhhh, guess I went a bit overboard there…)


(Amid the shower of bodies, Squishy faceplants into a metal lift. After a moment he gets up, rubbing the aches and unmindful of the red clothes and blonde wig he's wearing)

Squishy: Ugggh. Where am I this time? (Looks around at the me-laden subterranean pit he's standing over, then perks his ears to something technological) Why do I hear boss music?

Steven: That would be ME!

(I burst from the ground in my "Omega" Controller, its whirring outer rings ripping through the body pile like hamburger. Blood is flying everywhere, landing on Squishy's horrified self and my majestic white dress as I'm pedalling power within the machine's core)

Squishy: AAAAAAAAAAHHH!

Steven: Come to Momma! Yah-Ha-Ha-Ha-HAA!

(The lift shudders and starts rising, so I pedal faster to catch up. It takes extra effort on my gams to grind through all this visceral, but the music keeps me going)

Steven: You get down here and take your medicine! Your DEATH medicine!

(While Squishy is running in a panic, a skinny white-haired sop drops down beside him)

Royal: I'll dispatch this loathsome, blasphemous device!

(He does his mind-thingy and a large boulder bonks my ride, lowering me some feet)

Steven: Ahh! That's no way to treat your mother!

Mina: Hey, up here, girl.

(Squishy looks up to see that tanned firecracker hanging from an opening overhead)

Mina: Grab on and get to the surface!

(She lowers her shotgun, and Squishy leaps up to make a getaway)

Steven: Oh no you don't!

(I pedal that bitch to the metal, rapidly gaining elevation to tear that lift and those heathens asunder! But Royal-shitstain does another conjuring trick and drops a frickin' boat on me!)

Myron: Tally-HOOOO!

(I'm immediately dumped to rock bottom while Squishy climbs up some rocks and burrows into a hole)


(He pops out into crisp clear air by a narrow footpath beside some roaring falls. He gets down to it and brushes off his gentlemen's walking suit, but here comes a vengeful, professor-looking sort)

Steven: You have dismantled my empire, Holmes. Undid all my hard work. Now I shall undo your life.

Squishy: Huh?

Steven: Have at you!

(I charge yelling toward a duel to the death, but I'm so caught up in my character I forget Squishy is less than three feet tall and I trip over him off the path)

Steven: FUUUUUUUUUUuuuuuuuuuuuuuu—!

(Squishy looks over, then sighs)

Squishy: That's a relief.

(I grab his ankles)

Steven: No retcon for you.

(I pull and both of us go yelling to our dooms)


(Though Squishy ends up crashing through the roof of a house and onto the main floor. He gets up in his iconic green tunic, and finds a most jovial shopkeep eying him)

Steven: Lamp oil; rope; bombs; you want it? It's yours, my friend! So long as you have enough rubies.

Squishy: Uhhh, I got this sword. (Presents Master Sword) Wait, did you say "rubies"?

Steven: Sorry you little shit, I don't give credit. Come back when you're a little, mmmmmm… DINNER.

(Suddenly it's the king of Hyrule, bellowing his mighty laughter that shakes the shop to pieces. Even with the world falling down around him he keeps that uncanny look of mirth, pouring a torrent from his chalice that floods the room)


(With a sputter Squishy breaches the surface and paddles over to a massive hair brush, climbing aboard before his apron and blue frock can drag him under. He watches mice, owls, a dodo, and other creatures ride the turbulent sea of tears, hanging on to avoid making a splash. Inversely, I sail comfortably by in my teacup, looking ever dapper and gay in my hatter attire)

Steven: Oh what a most splendiferous cruise! I'm aware my character is making too early an appearance, but so what?

(I float up and enlarge)

Steven: Let's stir things up some more. (I pull out a certain grimoire and open it) Change places!

(The scenery switches to the royal gardens and its myriad card soldiers)

Steven: Change Places!

(Now it's over to the chess fields)

Steven: CHANGE PLACES!

(Everything in Wonderland collides together in a kaleidoscope of mayhem, creatures of all shapes and sizes mingling and trouncing and giggling and creating a most hellish din. Squishy tries to shut out the noise but it does no good. His very sanity begins to fold)

Squishy: Aaaaahh! Someone wake me up from this nightmare!


Chairman: Squishy!

Squishy: Buh-huh, whuh?

(He awakens in the boardroom of The Very Big Corporation of America)

Chairman: Is the present subject not particularly engaging to you?

Squishy: No, I'm sorry, sir. I didn't get much sleep last night.

Chairman: Well get yourself some coffee and stay focused. Now, Harry, you were saying about the meaning of life?

Harry: Yes. Apart from people not wearing enough hats, the other fundamental concept is—

Eric: I'm sorry but, has anyone noticed that building there before?

(Everyone looks to see an old brick-and-mortar building slide up outside the long windows, giving rise to comments and concerns. After a few seconds it grinds to a stop, then immediately a filing cabinet drawer shoots through a window and smashes into the opposite wall, making a mess of wood and papers. As everyone gets up to examine it, taking no notice of the soaring music, an old shirtless man clutching a makeshift sword swings in through another window, followed by another threateningly-dressed rogue and another, this one with a note spike clenched in his teeth)

Chairman: The Crimson Permanent Assurance!

(A bloody melee ensues, with swashbuckling geriatrics cutting down their American counterparts. Squishy is panicking and trying to stay unmolested, but I swing in with my marauder kit)

Steven: Avast ye Wall Street swine! Yar day of reckoning be at hand!

Squishy: But we did a pirate one already!

Steven: This be Monty Python ye cur. Now en yer garde!

(I get to slashing, Squishy using a briefcase to withstand my fan blade saber. I eventually bash it away, then grabbing his collar I fling the both of us out the window)


(We fight it out on the side of the building, the moon's influence keeping us horizontal. With missiles raining down all around the city we're squarely focused on delivering kicks, cartwheels and Wicked Weaves: his black against my red. "Blood and Darkness" for sure, only… I'm a bit overdressed. Squishy slides in for a sweep and I leap forward, and in a flash my snazzy red garments have become a white skin-tight bodysuit. Now I'm truly an Umbral Witch!)

Squishy: Dude, ewww.

Steven: At least I don't look like a walking fetish catalogue.

Squishy: I never asked to be dressed like this. Plus I don't even need glasses.

Steven: Then you should have no problem seeing yourself PERISH!

(I launch a motorcycle at him, followed by slices with a killer katana. Squishy dodges and fires off some rocket launchers, which I ice skate around before pirouetting up to deliver a red-hot kick. He sidesteps and brings down a counter heel, but I'm too quick with the Witch Time and I slip around to launch a hairy fist into his skull. He's also too quick as a black fist meets my white one, then it's button-mashing time as we lay on the heavy punch barrage. For bullshit reasons he outdoes me and uppercuts me away from the building and smack onto a passing missile. It's only a few seconds before I gain control, whip it around and speed past him with a taunt)

Squishy: Hey! Don't run away!

(I'm too far away to care, so he leaps onto another missile and zooms after me)


(Getting upright and lacking a shirt, Squishy goes running forward and leaping from missile to missile all Contra-style. Aliens come at him, but he blows them away with his machine gun without slowing down. The enemy ships from Gradius also show up and get as readily blasted, and soon Squishy makes it to the back of the alien gunship, where I'm waiting)

Steven: Took you long enough. Pretty brisk up here, huh?

Squishy: Get over here and fight me!

Steven: Just shoot at me. But don't fall!

(He gets to firing and leaping from missile to missile as they collide against the rear forcefield. I stand up and peer forward aft)

Steven: Op, looks to be another transition.

Squishy: What?

(The ship crashes into a mountainside)


(Through the fire and dirt I come stomping through the mine in SevenForce, with Squishy riding his transforming transport around my metallic toes. The mineshaft rings with that sweet crunchy Genesis sound font)

Steven: Try not to get stomped!

(He fires his little peashooter laser as I throw stretchy punches and kick balls of literal fire. Alas he does enough damage to blow apart my form, so I switch to BirdForce as we shoot up a mineshaft. I tell him "Imma burd" before cawwing and swooping at him, but he blows me up, so it's onto WhiteTigerForce. My sick flips, tail lasers and guitar riffs do nothing to stop another blow-out, and the bubbles and beams of CrabForce fare no better. Going for broke I become BallForce, go to the edge of the screen, rev up, then shoot forward, blowing through the bedrock)


(Squishy rides out on a coaster car with my face on it, and I drop down in my slick Neo form, the strings holding me above the tracks)

Steven: OH! SQUISHY! OUR FIGHT HAS MADE ME BIG! BIG! [Bigger Than Life] ITSELF! I JUST WANT TO [Hyperlink Blocked] OVER EVERYTHING! STARTING WITH [Crisp, Refreshing] PIPIS IN YOUR [Pissboy] FACE!

(I begin spamming [heh, get it?] my arm cannon and sending out mini-heads of myself, bobbing ecstatically and giggling madly over the rush of power. Squishy identifies as an attack jet and pew-pew-pews at me, even unleashing a "BIG SHOT". They don't hurt me obviously, but they knock me in such a way I find myself ensnared in my own strings)

Steven: OH [St. God Hospital]! I'M HOPELESSLY [Disney's Tangled]! [Hyperlink blocked] MY [Uranus]!

(I yo-yo outta there while Squishy rides on through the exit tunnel)


(Into the glorious sunlight he goes aboard the turtle coaster of Pinna Park, which is undergoing an attack by Mecha-Bowser! I'm doing the Luigi dance atop the mecha's head as it spews fire, emulating the tension that's filling me)

Steven: God this music is so fucking good geeehhhhh I'm so into it!

(A dopey turtle boy springs up to me)

Bowser Jr: Hey! This is my toy! Get off it!

Steven: NO YOU! (I punt the bastard off to the horizon, then strike a pose) Fire ze missiles!

(Bullet Bills fire in threes out from Mecha-Bowser's chest, all chasing and zeroing after Squishy as he sprays them to smithereens)

FLUDD: Mario! A Bullet Bill approaches from behind!

Squishy: I know!

(His car passes by and picks up a rocket, and taking aim he fires. But as he's going through the loop-de-loops his aim sucks major ass and the rocket shoots way past me)

Steven: Ha ha-ha, you suck!

Squishy: Grr! This is gonna take too long.

(He gets out of his seat)

FLUDD: Mario! You must keep both hands and feet in the vehicle at all times!

Squishy: I know what I'm doing.

(Balancing on the rim of the car, Squishy watches a Bullet Bill as it approaches, then at the last moment he leaps onto the grinning missile, riding it like a surfboard through the air and pulling off some sweet Eureka7 flips before redirecting straight for me)

Steven: Well nuts…

(He uses FLUDD to accelerate the Bullet Bill right into the cannons, causing a chain reaction that blows the whole thing to bits and sends them sprinkling across the ocean)


(Squishy floats up to a steaming surface, regaining consciousness with a groan. Raising his head, he finds himself in a large hot spring with me lounging across from him. He rises in an instant, but I hold up my palm)

Steven: Relax, Squishy my man. We're just taking a quick break; we'll get back to the mayhem shortly. Settle yourself.

(He remains standing for some moments, then eases and sits down in the water)

Steven: As exciting and fulfilling as our battle has been so far, even a godhead like me needs time to decompress. So relax, let the tension melt from your body, and take in the sights.

(I nod, and two lovely veiled utahraptors step into the water to pour our drinks: quality sake for me, and vintage rootbeer for him. I raise my teeny cup in a toast as those fine dromaeosaurids vacate)

Steven: Like what you see? (I drink) I can give you more: kobolds, dragons, snakes, even some Pokemon. I know your tastes: they're the same as mine.

(The ungrateful shit pushes his drink away and gets all pouty serious)

Squishy: You know what I want.

Steven: (Hiss) Yeah, no can do; Ssi-Ruuk are no longer in the cards. They're not canon anymore, remember? Besides, after being together about fifteen years, haven't you grown just a little tired of her?

Squishy: We're done here. (Stands up defiantly with a splash)

Steven: (Le shrug) Suit yourself. (I stand tall and bare it all) Nudity BEEEEEAM!

(I flash him something fierce, obliterating the entire resort with the might of my nakedness)


(Cut to the final battle of Cave Story, where Squishy in his Quote cosplay is hopping and shooting the Undead Core [me]. I call forth the corrupted versions of Sue and Misery, and as my unwilling minions harry that squat nuisance I stick my face out from my rock-hard protection)

Steven: I could have given you bunny girls, wolf girls. You won't believe the menagerie of delights that's come about in the last decade. And don't get me started on ponies!

Squishy: Quit telling me your weird and creepy fixations!

Steven: They're yours as well! You just need to accept it already!

Squishy: Never!

(He overcomes the corrupt guardians and fires a barrage of missiles at my face, finishing me off in a blinding explosion)


(The rooftop of the Pork City building in Shibuya. Squishy is battling some ghost crabs in large cargo shorts and an orange wig while I'm floating nearby like the cool-ass Reaper I'm dressed as, vibing to the music and bringing da Noize!)

Steven: Sine! Cosine! TANGENT!

(I drop in some tribal tattoo kangaroos and weasels, forcing Squish to swipe and scribble madly on his DS to combat them. The music is ramping up and I'm grooving to it something fierce and, oh crap here comes the chorus! I drop down and "Sho" my stuff!)

Steven: Someone said I am such a fooooolish girl!

Who cares? It's better than withooooooout a liiiiiight!

Sometimes I need someone to hoooooold me tight!

(Squishy tries to get at me as I strut around belting lyrics through my bullhorn, but I step expertly around him with each pass. When he gets a little too up in my grill, I do a spin and slam a propeller beanie down onto his head so hard I flatten him into another dimension)


(Squishy pops back up, this time on the practice courts of Enfield Tennis Academy. As a free-for-all between youngsters is underway, I'm pelting that little tubster with tennis balls in my spiffy yachting jacket and hat)

Steven: Keep your eyes on the ball, Lord! And watch the equipment already, Jay-sus!

(I keep slamming balls at him as he scrambles here and there, pulling along the foodcart holding the Eschaton data as cover. In my laughing, drug-addled onslaught, one of the balls bings off the monitor and into the back of one particularly angry girl's head. The both of us freeze as she turns around, glaring at us while a bloody-faced lad hangs from a clenched fist)

Steven: Oh no it's Kittenplan…

(She throws down her victim and comes charging at us, and we yell and scram like our lives depend on it [because they do!]. I fail to notice a flying racquet in my flight and get beaned in the noggin, and as I go down the raging lass catches up to Squishy and shoves him off his feet)


(And he faceplants onto the stage. With an effort he raises himself, and pauses at seeing the massive crowd of people holding up banners for "Oasis" and cheering out for Liam and Noel)

Squishy: Uhhh, what is—?

(I deliver a right hook to his gob to snap him into focus as well as knock the glasses off his face. He falls on his butt, but gets up to find me with fists raised and ready to throw down)

Steven: Come on, brother!

(He raises his dukes as I rush him, and we exchange punches and hop about as the audience cheers. He throws a straight, but I grab his arm and spin him around and toss him into the drums. I come over to lay the hurt, but the bastard slams a cymbal against my head, and I take a guitar to the side as I'm staggering from the ringing pain. I stumble wildly over to a mic stand, grab hold of it and swing around to catch and disarm Squishy of his guitar. I jab him hard in the gut so he backpedals into another mic stand, which he wastes no time in grabbing and putting to use. He swipes and I backflip off the stage and into the crowd, who hold up my feet and carry me off. Squishy jumps after me, and together we fence with our stands while the crowd carries us upright to the back of the arena and through an exit door)


(In the sunlit halls of the dance academy we engage in a ballet of intrigue: me in my crisp blue uniform, and him in his frilly pink tutu and crown)

Steven: I shall not allow you to endanger the prince.

Squishy: Seriously, why do you keep having me dress up like a girl?

Steven: If you're gonna be so whiny about it, you can play Mytho.

(In a flash he's dressed as the gray-haired prince)

Squishy: Alright!

Steven: Which means I'm obligated to do this!

(I deliver a stunning, dramatic slap)

Femio: What cruelty, to treat one's prince so harshly.

Steven: Fuck off, Vic; you brought nothing to the story!

Femio: And immensely rude as well. I can at least bring some justice. Alphonse?

Butler: Olé!

(A bull charges outta nowhere and rams the both of us out of a window)


(We go flying through a test chamber, but I expertly aim and fire off my portal gun to get me up to a safe ledge while Squishy takes the no effort launch plate route to land on a lower platform across from me. He takes a look at his surroundings and the "weapon" in his mitts)

Squishy: Uhhh, how exactly are we supposed to fight with these?

Steven: Heh, easy.

(I shoot a portal at the spot above him, then plant the second one under a pile of bombs. He freaks and leaps away just before his platform gets rained on, only to get nailed by a Companion Cube I launch through a separate portal. He stumbles into another of my portals and winds up in the infinite falling loop for some seconds before I switch portals and have him fly into a wall at terminal velocity. Of course his metal exoskeleton takes much of the impact, but he still crumples to the floor. Seems as good an opportunity to put him down, so I go down to him for a good curb stomp. But before I get to him, he whips out his portal gun and makes two shots, and suddenly a white sentry bot lands beside me)

Sentry: Hello.

(It opens its sides to reveal two rocket launchers, so I book it as it starts firing. One of the rockets blows a hole in a pipe that spills blue goop all over the place. Now I'm bouncing uncontrollably around the chamber, along with Squishy and the still-firing sentry bot. I start firing off portals to see if I can launch myself to someplace more stable but I just end up flying all over the place with Squishy following after me, both of us steadily gaining speed as we rise and fall and arc through portal after portal after portal until)


(He drops into a vast, empty white void, adorned in the garments of a rider and with nobody in sight)

Squishy: Hello? Steven? We're supposed to be fighting, right?

Hush, now, hide. All you little ones

Rush, now, into the middle of nowhere;

Singing and laughter will die.

(A pool of black ichor bubbles up near Squishy's feet)

Dreamless sleep, follows the Nowhere King

When his kingdom comes,

Darkness is nigh…

(From the curdling pool far too many spindly legs sprout out and plant themselves on the ground)

Quiet; crawl to the in-between.

Silent, secretive feeling

Of fearsome, hatred that reaches the skies.

(Those horrific limbs pull out a hideous, convulsing mass of tar that takes on an eldritch shape)

You will bring, joy to the Nowhere King

When he sees the light, leaving your eyes…

(The horror leans forward, and from within an appendage pushes out, reshapes and hardens, lowering itself so that Squishy cannot avoid the dead-eye gaze of… a rubber horse head mask)

Steven: Hi.

(Squishy only looks at me blankly as he jams a sword right into my left eye)

Steven: AAAAAAAAHHHH! HOLY SHIT MY EYE!

(I pound my hoofsies and gallop around the void, spraying pitch all around in my agony)

Steven: WHY WOULD YOU DO THAT GOD IT HURTS SO FUCKING MUCH!

(Soon every trace of white has been covered in tar, and the scraping of my hooves cause sparks that ignite the goo)

Steven: THE PAIN IS SO UNBELIEVABLE GODDAMMIT IT JUST WON'T STOP AAAAIIEEEEAAIIEEGHAHH!

(The fire grows and spreads, quickly consuming everything in smoke and infernal heat)


Down, down to Satan's realm;

See where you beloooong!

There is nothing you can do

No escape from

Spooky Mormon Hell Dream!

Jesus: You have defied the wishes of your creator, and now you go stab him in the eye? Chyeh, you're a dick!

Squishy: Hold on, you're Jesus?

Jesus hates you, this we know,

For Jesus just told you so!

Skeleton1: You remember Lucifer?

Skeleton2: He is even spookier!

(As the host of the damned cackle away I make my spooky, fiery entrance)

Steven: Minions of Hades, have you heard the news?

Squishy was caught acting silly.

So now he's here to get himself screwed!

It's super chilly-willy!

Squishy: I'm sorry, bro, but it's no concern to me,

For hurting your ass, so just break me free

Of this

Stupid Moron's Hell Dream!


Steven: "Hell Dream"? No; where you're standing, it's the… Hell of Blood Pools.

(The veil draws back to reveal the ocean of crimson containing the "Memento of All Organisms [Memory of Fossil Energy]". I stomp as I flaunt my goat boss look)

Steven: Aw yeah: It's Touhou time! (I spin and slam down my massive spork) And soup's on, baby!

(I charge at Squishy, spraying globs of condemned blood that his Marisa-garbed ass flees from. I jump and slam the ground repeatedly to send out waves of blood, and twirl my spoon o' doom to raise clouds of the sticky stuff. Remarkably he stays dry and splotch-free during the attacks, finding time to dig in his apron and pull out some explosive concoctions. He throws them at me right when my barrier turns red and I get blown off my feet and take a dunk in the blood pool. I pop out a moment later, however, in goat mom robes)

Steven: You need to stay nourished, little one!

(I conjure numerous blood pies and fling them at him, making sure to throw in some fireballs for variety's sake. Squishy dodges and rolls, eventually breaking out the broomstick to bat a pie right back at me. I take it in the face and back into the blood I go, only swimming out a distance I shoot up in my enlarged, blood-drenched Wario form)

Steven: Gimme some siiiiiip!

(I open up and turn on the suck, absorbing everything in the vortex that is my mouth. Squishy tries to run, but he loses his footing and goes down the hatch)


(He finds himself hovering over the crowd of the summer concert, dressed in the traditional red-white Hakurei attire. I'm across from him in my flashy opulent duds and curls, accompanied by my far more impoverished partner-in-crime)

Dan: Why am I the poverty god?

Steven: Do you have to ask?

Dan: You're an absolute dick, Steve.

Steven: Yes, which is exactly what's needed to give this shrimp the dicking he deserves! Now go possess him and assure my victory.

Dan: Go win it yourself ya lousy ungrateful… (Floats off grumbling and cursing)

Steven: Fine! Be like that! (I face Squishy, cracking my knuckles, neck and bling) Can't exactly be an egoist if there's two of us, anyway.

(I flash shift over to the left, my movements leaving the miko Jawa so bedazzled he's wide open for a one-two-three combo. I grab, headbutt and throw him down into the crowd, and when he bounces back up I give him the ol' shakedown beatdown, then toss him into a nearby shed and uppercut him with explosive fiery force when he comes right back)


(Spinning spinning spinning he goes before stabilizing and leveling out over a nighttime city skyline, his button-up shirt and smart skirt only slightly ruffled. He only has a moment to notice the locale change and his teeny black wings before I descend like a lily-capped envoy of the heavens [an "Absolute Lily", as it were)

Steven: Rejoice! Your purification has come at last!

(I start firing out the ice shards, the butterfly bullets, and even the hiragana of my attacks, filling the screen with bullets)

Squishy: How the heck am I supposed to get through all this? (He notices the camera hanging from his neck) Wait, why do I have this?

(As he brings it up, everything slows down as a photo frame pops onto the screen, and moving upwards he snaps a pic of me, clearing out a good chunk of bullets in the process)

Squishy: Whooooa, it's like Fatal Frame!

Steven: Oh you vain and misguided soul! Be sure to get my good side, at least.

(He gets to dodging, charging up the camera as he maneuvers to optimal photography range to make a snappy. He succeeds in landing two shots, which puts me into desperation mode)

Steven: Hark, your indiscretion is quite persistent. I must bring forth the Feisty Flowers!

(I create a Guitar Hero-style song chart to drop notes down on Squishy to a killer tune while I bring in flowers from the sides to break and erupt into piercing ice lances to the beat)

Squishy: The flip is this?

Steven: Some Everhood, baby. Get into the rhythm.

(I sway like a flower shopkeeper while that tengu Jawa zips and zooms from the barrage before making a daring charge to land one final shot)


(And like that we're above the Spirits' Crossing, having undergone another wardrobe change and me raring to go Fumikado on some ass!)

Steven: Now for some Len'en!

(Like a "Moon Child" I invoke my imperial powers by summoning five doppelganger shadows that tail my movements and mimic my attacks to really stick it to poor dumb Yabu-Squishy. It's raining knives and donuts and pellets and there's absolutely no chance of clearing any of it [ya should've gone with Team Bottle Opener :)]. But as I'm utterly drenching his parade, a frog with a sword and wearing pants runs up to me)

Steven: Huh? What are you doing here?

Frog: I must do as my Lady commands! (He begins shoving me aside)

Steven: Hey! Quit pushing me, asshole!

Frog: Her will shall be done!

Steven: Stop it! Stop!

(As I'm preoccupied getting into a slap fight with this meddling amphibian)


Lady Luck: Please give a round of applause to our newest lucky contestant!

(Squishy is surprised to find himself on some kind of weird colorful game show set hosted by a woman with fluffy red hair and a ringleader's outfit)

Lady Luck: Will he succeed in conquering the dungeons and achieving his deepest desire? Doubtful, but he can at least put on a good show. Now roll those dice!

(Suddenly Squishy is confronted by a porcupine with a head cold named Sneezy, and he's given two dice and some equipment)

Squishy: Umm, okay.

(He places a four into the Battle Axe slot, which knocks away the congested mammal)

Lady Luck: Quite the opening move! Here's another one.

(A pirate drops in, and Squishy puts a six into his Broad Sword to hit the privateer hard and put him down)

Pirate: As the dolphin swims and the gull treads air,

I had far less HP;

How be that fair? Yar…

Lady Luck: Another effortless win! But this next opponent might be more of a challenge.

(Now it's a yeti wearing a snow cap and shorts, looking bored as he handles a snowball)

Yeti: Let's battle, I guess.

(Squishy gets another six and puts it into the Whip, inflicting double burn damage that finishes the foe)

Yeti: Whatever…

Lady Luck: My my, you really are a natural at this! And I'm not saying that to butter you up for the devastating defeat set for you down the line. That would just be cruel (wink).

(This time a Dire Wolf approaches, growling and ready to—

Steven: Hey hey HEY! That's my creation you're bogarting!

Lady Luck: You've had more than enough time with your toy, so I'm putting him to better use.

Steven: No one wants to read a Dicey Dungeons run, you jumped-up hag!

Lady Luck: Hmph. For an author, you're lacking imagination in the insults department.

Steven: Just give him back already you penny slot sorceress! (I start throwing hands!)

Lady Luck: You do not touch me!

Steven: Too late I'm doing it!

(Our scuffle tears the set apart, with one backdrop board swinging loose and slapping Squishy clear over the set and through a door)


(Another faceplant, this time outside the dugout within Santa Destroy Stadium. He arises right as I begin the opening number at the pitcher's mound)

Steven: Despair, the end of the world.

I hear the rising phoenix in my dream~

(I draw a golden pistol and fire at his feet)

And the virgin child made a wish upon a star

That night her mother talks no more.

(Pull out the other pistol to do the same, and this makes him run)

Keep a hold, the end of the dream.

(I'm firing rapidly at his heels)

The shining fish splashes in the stream!

And the virgin child loses her heart and soul

That night her mother's eyes see no moooore!

(He flips from the bullets and tries rushing me with his beam katana but)

When the wind blows, the virgin child's corpse will sing a song

(Rapid fire into his beam that pushes him clear across the field)

Such a pretty melody never heard befoooore.

No MOOOOORE!

(I do a pelvic thrust that sends a cannon shot into Squishy, blowing him clear out of the stadium)


(Dumped unceremoniously into a plain white square. Upon rising, he sees an agitated training dummy hovering menacingly overhead)

Mad Dummy: I will have your Soul no matter what!

(The dummy hovers and bobs around as smaller dummies pop in to fire orbs of magic at Squishy, some of which hit the head dummy. When the attack finishes, Squishy chooses to attack as well, though it's ineffective)

Mad Dummy: Foolish Foolish FOOLISH! Of course you cannot hurt me! Only magic can—!

(I shove that cotton-mouthed chump outta here, and flash my hoodie, shorts, slippers and grin)

Steven: Of course it's gonna be MEGALOVANIA, stupid!

(Squishy has himself a really bad time as I raise bones, fire lasers and use gravity to make him my bitch. A certain corpse slides up to me)

Sese: Can Sese join?

Steven: Suuure! You get down with your bad bony self!

(The cadaver rains down some extra thicc bones while I keep slamming and slamming and slamming and slamming and slamming and slamming and slamming and)


Soshite…

Eien ni useru zetsubou kimeba

Aseta REEL wa kyou mo mawaru!

Warai mo sezu, namida mo misezu,

Kurikaeshita, boku ga utsurutteiru

Eien ni kurikaesu zetsubou kimeba

Aseta REEL wa kyou mo mawaru!

Kowareta, omocha no,

You niiiiiii


(Squishy escapes onto an enclosed dais before the twilit barrier surrounding Hyrule Castle, and a second later I apparate into being in my harlequin Sith robes and Moai helmet)

Steven: Now for the inspiration behind this whooole fight!

(Swords pop from my sleeves, so I start slashing! Squishy blocks with the Master Sword and I disappear, then reappear from a different side, then come spinning in from another angle, then teleport drop on him, then do a lunge. I take a breather, but Squishy jabs and slashes me in my weakened state like a true "hero". His final blow knocks me head over heels onto my back, but I roll up, have a hissy fit, then call upon the dark forces to grant me a do-over)


(Deep in the steamy Central American jungles, I'm on the prowl. From the dense canopy I fire my shoulder-mounted cannon at Squishy as he flees amid exploding undergrowth. I hop from branch to branch to maintain the hunt, flicking out that one killer discus to mix things up)

Chris Hansen: Have a seat. Please, have a seat. Just take a—

(The TV personality gets beheaded, the catcher falling to the superior hunter. Eventually Squishy comes to a halt before a rock face, hopelessly cornered)

Steven: Not exactly fun running for your life, eh Squishy? (I land on a branch, looking down on him) Then pucker up for the sweet kiss of photon death!

(I aim my reticle as Squishy stares, but right as I line up the sweet spot a hulking brute pushes through the trees and fires a minigun at me. I flip out and retreat as the jungle behind me disintegrates under a stream of bullets)

?: You ain't got time to be dying, Squish!

Squishy: Will?!

(Will stops firing and looks to his friend)

Will: You're in the final stretch; keep going!

(He takes a javelin through the chest and goes down for disrupting my victory)

Steven: Maybe this time you'll stay dead for good!

(Rather than freak out or mourn, Squishy goes over to the minigun, hefts it up and)

Steven: Uh-oh.

(He unloads wildly, flattening the entire jungle)


(The dusky cardboard backdrop of Gusty Gulch pops up, setting the stage for me to do some "Ghost Gulping")

Steven: Guhuhuhuh. Time to get stomped!

(I move my Tubba Blubba butt over three steps, only to have a floaty dame stop me in my tracks with a whirlwind paper fan attack to the face)

Anna: Back off a sec, will ya? (Hovers over to Squishy) Squishy, get yourself together and put this clown down.

Squishy: Anna too?

Steven: Yo! You can't attack me while I'm doing an attack, and it's way too early for you to know that move!

Anna: Well your underlings like to cheat, so I figure you'd want a taste and see how you like it.

Steven: I'd like it better if you GET IN MAH BELLY!

(I tackle and fight the ghosty broad, but she's too spirited and we end up rolling around tearing apart the scenery, sucking up Squishy and carrying him over)


(Onto the cold hard floor of the hanger bay, where he looks up to behold the massive, screeching bulk of Metal Gear Rex)

Steven: SQUISHYYYYYYY! (I stomp my ride toward him) Time to die, Squishy!

(I fire off the machine guns and my laser beam, and as I'm shooting off some missiles something blasts my radar thingy)

Steven: What?!

(Something flips and fwooshes around the walls, stopping to take some pot shots at me)

Steven: Damn you!

(I ram Rex at the punk, but he flips waaaay over me, firing downward the whole way)

Steven: *Overly-Exaggerated Shouting*

(As I stagger dramatically in my war mech, the interloper lands before Squishy, disengaging their helmet as they stand)

Cope: I told you to make this quick.

Squishy: Gray Fox, I mean Alex! How did you guys come back?

Cope: Don't worry about that.

(He points his arm cannon and blows my radar to shreds, and I go Mario Screaming as I trip over myself, the cockpit popping open and spaghetti spewing everywhere)

Cope: Just focus on ending this farce.

(I lean out and bite the back of his neck, waggling him like a chew toy before tossing him aside)

Steven: You cybernetic dickweed!

(I smack him into the wall with the railgun, kick him off the rebound, and after he lands I stomp him like crazy)

Steven: Diiiiiiiiiie!

(I do a foot sweep, a moonwalk, and a Fortnite dance until the floor has a fresh coating of marinara. I look over to see Squishy has pulled out a Stinger launcher, and before I can say anything he fires right into my exposed face)


(Deep inside the Temple of the Black Egg, I tower over Squishy and his dinky needle. I give my best WRRRRRY before I start stabbing myself with gusto)

Steven: Yes, Squishy! Hurt me more! (Stab stab) Make me feel alive!

Squishy: What is wrong with you?

Steven: The power is too much! I just need a little pain to balance it out. (A large needle plants itself between my eyes) Gah! Not that kind of pain!

(Sara lands on my head, binds me in silk and has me kneel, holding me in place as I uWu from the tightness)

Sara: Get him, Squishy!

Squishy: Yeah!

(He charges the Dream Needle and deep dives into me)


(Specifically the trippy monochromatic final boss arena of KH2. I'm dressed in my zebra-print coat, fingers crackling with that sweet unlimited powah as I look down on Squishy)

Steven: Now for your end!

(I dive forward for the kill, but at the last second Mr. Mullet steps in and smacks me away with Riku's sword)

Steven: Diiiiiip!

Squishy: Jo!

Jo: (Looks back with a grin) Ya ready to finish this?

(Idiot shouldn't have looked around, cuz here I come wailing on him with my red palm lightsabers like a Fury)

Steven: Why, (Hit) Can't, (Smack) You, (Bap) Jerks, (Wham) Just, (Bam) Stop, (Thank you ma'am) Interrupting me!

(I slam that sucker out of my face, but he passes his sword to Squishy in mid-flight and the midget rushes me, wombo-comboing me with sword and Keyblade before driving into the air, then dual slashing my back for extra height. As I float about rethinking my life choices, Squishy drops down by battered Joseph's side)

Squishy: Come on Jo!

Jo:...Alright.

(Jo places his hand on the Keyblade, and by the powers of whimsical contrived bullshit they fire a friendship beam right through my chest in a blinding flash)


(Squishy snaps to reality on a wide metal platform, a fresh breeze revitalizing his senses. He doesn't see me at first, but then he looks dead ahead. I lower in on my swanky hover chair in full Prophet regalia, smirking as the camera pulls waaaay back to reveal the shit-ton of Covenant forces standing between me and him. He's stunned, startled, to see such odds literally laid out before him)

Squishy: Ah cripes...

(Suddenly the sound of afterburners fill the air)

?: Care package coming down!

(Squishy jumps as a Warthog makes a noisy landing close by. He looks up to see a Pelican hovering overhead, piloted by none other than)

Squishy: Chris?

Chris: Hola Squishster! Been missing me? I just need you to stand back real quick.

Squishy: Huh?

(There's a great metal thud as a set of SPARTAN armor lands inches from him)

Chris: A little something extra from your pals in the Republic armed forces. Now go kick ass like you mean it!

(Something green slams into the cockpit, and after some tilting the entire craft goes kaboom. Squishy looks to see me smiling with a smoking Fuel Rod Cannon, and clenching his fists he goes over to the suit and mounts up. That timeless Halo Theme choir awakens as the armor detaches and reshapes around him all Iron Man-style, raising him to exciting new heights never before imagined by his race. Once decked in armor-plating and sporting seven feet, he hops into the Warthog and drives it straight down the nearby slope. He accelerates as he drives further down before hitting the ramp at max speed right as the guitar riff comes… Oh, right: of course it'd be the Mjolnir mix.

(Squishy rides the Hog up to the apex of its arc before leaping out, letting it drop and splatter several Grunts down below. The guitar really kicks in as Squishy lands and goes to work, spraying an SMG into the alien horde. Once it empties he tosses it into a Drone's face and starts punching left and right before grabbing an Elite's head, smashing it into the floor and yoinking their plasma rifle. He pours hot fiyah as he runs-and-guns, only stopping when the rifle runs dry to swipe a plasma carbine and pop off headshots like a mo-fo, punching out those who don't go down in one shot. I mean, Christ, he's moving like a man on a mission, even ripping off the shield-bearing arm of a Jackal and throwing it into a swarm of Drones, pinging them like pinball. A Brute charges to bring down a gravity hammer, but Squishy stops it in place, shoves the blade end into the rhino-ape's cranium, then begins swinging it around to devastating effect. Getting deep into one thick crowd, he slams the hammer down, launches high into the air and… Jesus, he's 360-no-scoping with a beam rifle. After pulling off such an MLG maneuver, he jaunts over to a vending machine to treat himself to a refreshing Mountain Dew, only to get interrupted by the spray of a Grunt's plasma pistol. Squishy chucks the can at the Grunt's head, then lifts up the vending machine to both cover him and shoot a nonstop stream of soda cans at his foes, and after running forward some yards he dumps it onto a lead-footed squad, squashing them.

(The Jawa SPARTAN looks around to see a Phantom coming in hot, switching on its grav-lift. Quickly Squishy primes two plasma grenades and dashes for the lift, tossing them onto the first Elite that lands, and shortly after they stick Squishy punts them hard in the groin right back up into the Phantom where they explode, scattering troops as the dropship goes down. Looking over he sees a whole formation of Ghosts coming for him, blue plasma streams filling the air. He keeps cool and sidesteps and flips from the fire and vehicles, hopping onto one, booting the driver and making it his. With a wild twist he turns it in my direction and hits the boosters, flying off the aerial barge over to the next one. This one is filled with the likes of Choppers, Spectres and Wraiths, all firing at him. He weaves around most of them, and while maintaining course he pulls out a rocket launcher and blasts any vehicles in his way without stopping in a total cheating dick move. Some jetpack Elites come down on him with rifles blazing, but like idiots they come in close enough to get whammed when the Ghost hits a mini-ramp and does an aerial speeeeeeeen. One of the Elites manages to grab on, but Squishy just punches one of their boosters so they fly off and explode like a bottle rocket. The distraction works, though, as Squishy finds himself colliding right into a Hunter's shield, flattening the Ghost and flipping it over.

(Squishy crouch lands before another charging Hunter, but slips around onto its back, grabs its head, stretches out its wormy neck like an accordion, then blows it into an orange mist with a shotgun pulled from his metal ass. With the heavy down, Squishy looks over to see their partner coming for him. He aims the shotty, but the bruiser knocks it aside and slams down their shield. Squishy dodges, and as the Hunter raises it for another go that spry Jawa leaps up, grabs it, and diverts it through their other arm, and while the big boy yowls in pain Squishy lifts up their fuel rod cannon and blasts the ouchies away [as well as the burden of life]. Squishy then goes on a blasting spree, raining boom-booms on everyone around him and downing a Banshee, which has the courtesy of crashing into a Random Stockpile of Explosive Canisters. From the explosion Squishy grabs an errant stabilizer wing and whacks those aliens like crazy, like it's Haloid and shit.

(His pummel party comes to an end when two Scarabs drop in. One screeches in his face and gets sucker punched onto its side, so the other rears back to put some distance from those fists. No good it turns out, as Squishy just climbs up a leg and onto the body, smashing his way through the crew as he makes for the top. Once there, he grips the main plasma turret, rips it out, then pile drives it through the Scarab's back, obliterating it in incredible fashion. The resulting explosion launches Squishy up onto a passing Seraph fighter, which he nudges straight toward a Covenant cruiser. My God Vision allows me to see him crash through the hull and deep into the vicinity of the engine room, splattering countless aliens before coming to a stop at the end of a corridor containing an Elite honor guard. As the smoke dissipates, two plasma swords light up in Squishy's hands as he faces down these toughies, which he assails without hesitation. A ballet of dismemberment ensues as he tears down the corridor with his swords as well as his legs, painting the walls in purple and blue as he breaches engineering. Inside, he stops a moment to toss two frag grenades into a vent before resuming the massacre, blatantly disregarding the "Achilles Vent: Do Not Exploit!" sign posted above. Following some internal thuds, the whole cruiser goes vertical and drops, all propulsion completely gone. This sudden inversion has everyone onboard falling the length of the ship, though Squishy clings to a bulkhead while firing a sniper rifle downwards like a maniac. The cruiser's descent inevitably collides with the ships below, shoving them down as their hulls buckle and break from the colossal weight. Explosions soon overtake the collapsing vessels, one of which shoots Squishy clear out into open air unscathed, riding that last strong guitar riff. Absolutely ludicrous.

(Squishy superhero lands upon the front of my regal barge as the demolished fleet falls upon and destroys the other barges. Standing up, a shower of ruination at his back, he raises his gaze toward me. Our eyes meet; the piano plings; the storm closes in. Truly, "This Is The Hour".

(As the drums rumble and the symphony goes hard, Squishy breaks into a sprint. I summon the arms of the Gravemind to pour the Flood onto him. He avoids showers of Infectors and slips past Carriers without slowing, pausing only to punch aside Infected. Tentacles slam down to block his path, even squeezing and breaking the barge to impede him, but he just bounds ever forward. One tentacle manages to snag and hold him in place, allowing the rotting masses to swarm and envelop him. Before they get up to his head, Squishy ejects himself from the suit and glides over the remaining distance, lightsaber active and drawn back. Right as he's about to plunge it into my chest…

(I invoke "Despair" and bombard him with millions of combat scenarios, of every conceivable notion: sports, puzzles, legal, martial, mythical, card games, espionage, dance, turn-based, real-time, 2-D, 3-D, 4-D. On every plane, across every genre, throughout the very history of engagement itself. All simultaneous, in nonstop succession. Yet he pushes through each one, remains defiant, persistent. He is every bit like myself. No; he is that part of me that never stopped aspiring. That never surrendered hope. That truly believed success is always within reach. For all the genres, all the mediums I throw at him, for however long I persist, it ultimately changes nothing. It's just the one, sole outcome…

MY DEFEAT


(We're back within my sanctum, my back and head arched awkwardly, a green lightsaber sticking through my upper torso. Squishy is standing on my chest, holding firm and still, hands gripping the hilt and his eyes impassive. But for me, despite the pain I'm experiencing, I can't stop smiling)

Steven: Haaah, haha… It's finally happened. After all these years… the killing blow has been dealt. You got me at last, Squishy. Got me real good. *Cough cough* Although, I have to ask… (I stiffly raise a hand to put on his shoulder) At any point, during our bout… had you considered what exactly would happen if you succeeded in putting me down?

(No response. Just that hard stare)

Steven: Heh, of course you didn't. Humans are very emotionally-driven creatures, after all. (I pat him) It gives me some comfort knowing I was able to transfer that special little flaw onto you.

(He shows gratitude by pushing off me and yanking the lightsaber out, hard. I stumble, clutch that gaping hole… Yup, a real gusher. All that goop just pouring out onto the floor. Jeez it's really going; I'm already getting lightheaded. But that doesn't spoil things one bit)

Steven: There are, so many things I could quote right now. That I want to quote. So badly. But… it'd only detract from your moment. Make it seem less genuine, you know?

(Still no response. Now I'm down on my hand and knees, in a deepening pool of black ooze. Concentration's starting to wane)

Steven: You… most definitely earned it. Stuck it out to the very end. A real champ. A real… apple of my eye.

(For such bright eyes, he's giving me one seriously cold look. Far colder than I thought was possible for him)

Steven: Aren't you… aren't you going to say something? I didn't make you to be this serious.

Squishy:...Just die already.

Steven: Alright, alright, I'm going. You had enough of me, I get it. There's just... one thing I want you to ask yourself. And this comes from personal experience. (Deep breath) What good is a victory… when there's no one, to share it with..?

(Losing the last grips of control, the Master folds and sinks entirely into the murk. From the evaporating pool of his essence, a single brilliant ball of light rises and floats toward Squishy. It stops a moment before bursting into dozens of particles, that then reform into a large sparkling card. One side features the cool S logo, and the other has a simplistic drawing of a red dinosaur)

Squishy: Is that..?

(He approaches the card, and the moment he makes contact there's a flash. To the tinklings of "A Kingdom in Chaos" the card rises above Squishy, spinning faster and faster in place. Squishy throws up his hands as it radiates, and in an orchestral trill the card has become a fully-formed, very familiar adult Ssi-Ruu. Her spinning slows down, and right when she comes to a stop she drops onto Squishy like a sack of bricks, cutting the music abruptly. There's an awkward stillness for some seconds before Sylvia raises herself, rubbing her head with a groan)

Sylvia: Uuuugh, what was that? Like I was on the spin cycle.

(A muffled groan brings her attention to the lumpy bundle of cloth under her scaley rump)

Sylvia: Squishy?

(She scoots over, allowing him to sit up and rub his head as well, except he freezes the moment he lays his eyes on her)

Squishy: Sylvia…

Sylvia: What is this place? How did we—

(Stumpy arms wrap around her as the Jawa snuggles fiercely into her side, his hands rubbing her scales)

Squishy: It's you. It's really, really you.

Sylvia: Y-Yes, yes it's me. (Hugs him back) I'm happy to see you too.

Squishy: You all just went away. Everyone and everything. It's only been a few hours, but it felt like years. And, I guess it really has been years.

Sylvia: What do mean by that?

Squishy: It's… *Sniff* That's not important. Just that… it took time to get here. I kept going, thought I had it together. But, when the others went, and the things he said…

Sylvia: I don't understand what you're saying, dear. What about the others? Who's "he"? (There's some choking sounds as Squishy shudders) Squishy?

Squishy: I'm just… so glad. *Sniff* That, that you're here. I… *Sniff* love you so, so much. I don't… I don't think, *Sniff* I said it, or showed it, *Sniff* nearly enough. That I, *Sniff* really love you.

(He breaks down into quiet sobbing, which melts Sylvia's heart about as much as it fills it with concern. But she leans down, gives him an affectionate peck and caresses his back soothingly)

Sylvia: (Softly) I know you do. You have shown and spoken it plenty.

Squishy: And the kids. And Steezy. I love them lots as well.

Sylvia: I know, I know. Sshhh…

(The couple sit there in each other's arms in relative silence, the isolation of the sanctum solely theirs. Soon Squishy gets himself together, steadying his breaths and loosening his hug)

Sylvia: Feeling better?

Squishy: Yeah, much. Heh, I don't know why I got so emotional there. I guess, heh… (Gives Sylvia a kiss on the cheek) It's been one really long day.

Sylvia: I can tell. Although, what happened exactly?

Squishy: You don't know?

Sylvia: I just remember all of us walking from the report meeting and talking about lunch, then this sensation of numbness, weightlessness, a momentary blank in my thoughts. Next thing I know I'm spinning in midair and landing on top of you.

Squishy: Huh. So he must have put you away.

Sylvia: There's that "he" again.

Squishy: The Master; Contractor's boss. He made the galaxy and almost everything disappear. I just got done fighting him.

Sylvia: (Surprised) You… you fought him?

Squishy: Yeah. Beat him, too. That's how I got you back.

Sylvia: Then, what about everyone else? Are they back?

Squishy:...No. It's only you. And me. That, um… that could be worrying.

Sylvia: Slightly. But, there's surely a way to bring them back, since I was able to.

Squishy: Yeah. I was told everyone was kept out on the fringes, and the gang actually helped me out in the last part of the battle. So they're all just waiting still.

Sylvia: For us to get them.

Squishy: Right… maybe after a little rest. That fight… "insane" doesn't even properly describe it, honey. And everything seems stable without him being around, so there's no real hurry. Plus… I honestly want to keep spending time alone with you. For just a little longer.

Sylvia: (Smile) I'm fine with that. Then we can go get everyone back. Together; no more last-ditch sacrifices from you.

Squishy: (Chuckle) I don't believe things are dire enough to warrant that.

(Suddenly the entire sanctum rumbles, shaking the lovebirds onto their feet)

Sylvia: What's happening?

Squishy: Is this place destabilizing? Wait, no, it feels more like—

(A massive stone fist shoots up, punching Squishy clear out of the sanctum)

Sylvia: SQUISHY!

(As the fist crumbles to dust and the room becomes still once more… I return)

Me: That sweet, naive simpleton.

(I arise from the dais, wrapped in my darkest, thickest, most ballin' cape, looking down upon the lone scaly survivor)

It's Always Been About ME: He really thought I could just go out like that. Even after all he's seen, after all I've told him and done to him, he believed me defeatable. As similar as he is to me, I'm the one who actually exists, and this is my house. I'm the one who calls all the shots, and I say this isn't over!

Sylvia: You… Contractor?

Steven: Pretty much. You could also think of me as Financer if you want. That would certainly justify all the anger and mistrust I put into you.

Sylvia: What did you do to Squishy?

Steven: I expelled him, is what. He's had more than enough time in the spotlight. Sure, I granted him his sweet tender reunion: he earned that much. But it can't just be about him… although that's always been the case, hasn't it? I hardly ever gave you attention outside of Trilogy 9, or any of the ladies, come to think of it. It's primarily been focused on the boys; all very male-centric my writings be. Which makes me a goddamn misogynist, doesn't it?

Sylvia: What are you even going on about?

Steven: It's nothing; just some bristling. Right now my focus is squarely on you, and our very special playtime.

Sylvia: I don't want to play or have anything to do with you. What I want is for you to bring back Squishy and everybody else!

Steven: Oh yes of course, you just have to have your precious hubby back. That's been prioridad uno since your debut. Well here's a harsh truth for ya: You need him because you can do nothing without him. You didn't exist until I introduced you as his main squeeze. Your backstory I filled in merely out of the kindness of my heart, but otherwise you're a sexy, scaly shell of a being. You have no true character, no real motivations. Every single thing you have done in your "life" has been in service to the idea that is Squishy. You're beyond codependent: you're practically parabiotic. You and your children. Nothing but expository set dressing with mouths. Not one independent thought whatsoever.

Sylvia: I see why you'd be the one in charge: You're every bit like Financer with how much you talk. And you think you can cow me by saying we're artificial? You wasted its effect by having your servants repeat it to our faces over and over again. Seeing you for what you actually are, those words do nothing but annoy the hell out of me!

Steven: Don't get annoyed: Get Angry! Get Indignant! If you want back everything you hold dear, I need your blood to boil! And this is the only chance you'll have at getting payback for all the shit you've put up with: the Financer, those intolerant fucks in Trilogy 7, those various kidnappings, all of that! That was all my making, all my envisioning, My Doing!

Sylvia: You want my anger? I can deliver it to you directly this time, instead of through your proxies. And I don't need Squishy by my side to rip you to shreds.

Steven: Yes! That's it, my spicy construct: threaten me with that saurian wrath. Do your species credit and Carnosaur my ass!

Sylvia: I'll do it to your throat if you're just going to keep talking!

Steven: Fine, enough promo! Here's a warm-up to see how for-real you are. Can you keep up?

(I toss off that restrictive cape in order to work my moves and get some music in this bitch!)

Both: Leeeeeet's DANCE!

Steven: Strumpet! Chu!

Sylvia: Bastard! Chu!

Steven: Dino-whore! Hey hey!

Sylvia: Ass clown! Hey hey!

(We dance to loosen up and charge the atmosphere)

Steven: Right-right-right-left-left!

Sylvia: Right-right-right-left-left!

Steven: Chu down down!

Sylvia: Chu down down!

Steven: Left-left-left-right-right!

Sylvia: Left-left-left-right-right!

Steven: Chu hey up!

Sylvia: Chu hey up!

Steven: Up-up-up-up-down!

Sylvia: Up-up-up-up-down!

Steven: (I give it my Vogue) Chu!

Sylvia: (She turns and shimmies) Chu!

(I cackle from all the energy our moves are producing!)

Steven: Down, up!

Sylvia: Down, up!

Steven: Down up!

Sylvia: Down up!

Steven: Down-up!

Sylvia: Down-up!

Steven: Up-down!

Sylvia: Up-down!

Steven: Down-down!

Sylvia: Down-down!

Steven: Down-down!

Sylvia: Down-down!

Steven: Doooooooown up!

Sylvia: Doooooooown up!

Steven: Down, up!

Sylvia: Down, up!

(And pause)

Steven: Aaaaggh, you're good with the rhythm and Simon Says.

Sylvia: When you're married to a gamer like Squishy, you pick up some things.

Steven: Of course: after so much time, he would rub off on you. Like a kind of cognitive osmosis. You may have most of his relevance for all I know, meaning we could wind up having the same kind of battle and results. I can't say for sure. All these happenings all happening at once is quite vexing. My mind could very well be working against me for all I know. It's very much a distinct possibility at this point… So let's take it out of the equation.

(A whirlwind of will billows under and around Sylvia before catapulting her straight up and up and)


(Coming to, she finds herself floating in something… strange. Too viscous to be air, and retaining an odd pulsing warmth. Sylvia balances herself as best she can, seeing nothing but empty darkness… though not entirely dark. There are flashes of white and red in the distance, like heat lightning. Only what they're flashing against is nothing at all like clouds)

Sylvia: Where, is this?

If you just turn around, bright eyes, then you can find out!

(She does so more out of surprise than curiosity, and before her rises a massive mountain of wrinkly gray matter. And looming over her, budding from the organ like a magnificent tumor, is the brain's host… Me!)

Steven: Truly marvelous, isn't it? What you're floating around in is the Pia Mater: the lowest membrane of the meninges, which separates the brain from the skull. And what you see before you is THE KNOWN UNIVERSE! The cradle of my soul, and by extension every one of my creative endeavors. Like any universe, its stability is upheld through laws of order set in place by me and the environment I was raised in. But out here, there are no such laws. In this mindless yet living space I am unburdened by doubt and logic and the need to play fair. I am a Titan unchained, whereas you are a mere tadpole dumped from its spawning pool. In other words, there's nothing to hold me back in wrecking your shit, and no chance of anybody coming to help you.

(I point my palm at her and start charging that Brain Power)

Steven: I wanna see how long you can last on your own merits!

(I fire off the psycho-blast to get her running)

Squishy: Sylvia!

(She gets pushed aside by Squishy, who takes the blast dead on. There's a flash of burning flesh and cloth before the shot detonates, leaving nothing behind but a rapidly fading cloud of smoke. Not a single trace of fabric or dust remains)

Sylvia: S, Squishy..?

Steven:...Did… Did that just..? (I don't believe it) I got him? For real life? (Here comes the smile) He's gone. Heh hah. Yes! Yes, baby! I smote the bastard; he's no more! It's finally OVER! HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAH—

(My hard-won cackle of victory is abruptly stopped by a hard jerk. Still maintaining my look of delight I look down to see three thick claws piercing my midsection, extending way out from Sylvia's outstretched and very distant arm)

Sylvia: Something wrong, Titan?

Steven: Wh, what..?

Sylvia: You said that the laws of logic and fairplay don't exist out here. As your creation, an extension of your soul, I believe I'm just as entitled to do whatever the hell I want.

(The claws retract, ripping a hole in my torso for my innards to spill out from. I can't even gasp as I wobble and bend forward from lack of spine and supporting muscle tissue. The distant electric pulses flash more frequently, and there are blooms of deep red in the darkness as a thumping fills the space. With some twitches and jerks, a torrent of blood gushes from my cavity as my flesh and organs regrow, along with some sick nasty ribcage claws jutting from my chest and back. That's a nice wake-up!)

Steven: HeeheeheeheeheehehehehehHAHAHAHAA! To think you'd actually evolve on me! But was that really the best you could muster with this newfound freedom, or is that the limit of your peanut-sized brain?

Sylvia: Oh, did that amuse you? You've seen nothing.

(She lights up like thermite, and before my metaphysical eyes that interstellar velociraptor grows and grows and absolutely radiates with power and tension! A cloak weaved in the five elements forms around her; wisps of energy wrap around her limbs; her tail gets extra long and sinuous; and a steeple hat of tremendous proportions and razor-sharp stitching blossoms from her skull. When she gets to my size and locks into a killer stance, her entire gargantuan being glimmers with every color imaginable. Ha, holy shit: an honest-to-Me Keeramak. No; a Rainbow Waltz!)

Steven: AhahahahahahahaHAAAA! You are absolutely RADIANT right now, darling! Like you truly mean BUSINESS!

Sylvia: For the Contractor, the Financer, for everything you have done to me and my family, and for Squishy, I will rip your twisted soul into mulch!

Steven: YES! That's more what I want to hear! So come on, you Bitch: SHOW ME WHAT YOU FUCKING GOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOT!


The sensation on his back is the first thing he becomes cognizant of: hard, cold, but weirdly not unpleasant. He opens his eyes, and is greeted with darkness only slightly less total then when his eyes were shut. He sits up. Everything feels intact, if mildly sluggish. He stands, and looks. Emptiness everywhere, with absolute silence. The ruffling of his robes as he shifts is the only sound.

Squishy: What is this place?

"Well this is a bothersome turn."

(Squishy stiffens)

Squishy: Steven?

"Nope: just part of Steven. The part you're moooost familiar with."

Squishy: Contractor? Where are you?

"Right here beside you. Well, in spirit. Ol' Steve kept most of what made me, leaving just the voice. That was quite the goof you made, little one. You should have had more faith in your beloved's dodging capabilities instead of getting blasted. Guess you wanted on the explosive sacrifice train as well."

Squishy: Then, I'm actually dead?

"More like... 'indefinitely incapacitated'. You were correct in saying Steven couldn't outright destroy, but he can seal you away in the back of his mind, along with the rest of us. *Sigh* You'd think after Dramatist you'd have known better, but nope! What a letdown."

Squishy: What are you talking about?

"You've been playing the Master's game the whoooole time, dummy."

Squishy: What? How?

"When he told you of all the scenarios he once envisioned, that also included your big final confrontation. You helped him fill in the gaps as you duked it out, but the general outline had always been there: your resistance, jumping between random scenes, your 'victory', Sylvia's return, his return, even your spectacular demise. Basically everything he's wanted has come to pass, and you unwittingly rolled with it."

Squishy: So then he's won? It's over for us?

"Hmhm, not just yet: there's been an interesting new development. Just look up yonder."

(Squishy doesn't know where "yonder" is relative to all the nothing, but a head tilt lets him catch something high above him. A distant glimmer, like a star flickering through every color of the spectrum. Only through handy zoom-in do we behold the titanic struggle at play. Steven sends out spears and arrows of bone at Sylvia, who weaves around and shatters them with bolts of lightning as a cacophony of various battle themes play at max volume. Sylvia has Steven's bony protrusions ignite and burn to ash before sending out wind shears that slice him apart, only he reattaches himself nearly as fast as he's being dismembered, seemingly having a gas about it. Squishy is able to see all this unfold conveniently enough and is awed)

Squishy: Sylvia?

"The boss had not expected her to be so violent, much less retaliate in the wake of your 'death'. Seems the years have given her some added fiber and bite. And I gotta say, that's a hell of a bite."

(Back to the Pia Mater, Steven has had enough of getting sliced and sends a tidal wave of fleshy chomping mouths at Sylvia. She forms a rock encasement to block it, then her arms shoot out, snag Steven and yank him to her, whereupon she slams him repeatedly into her leg like a jackhammer, reducing him to a bloody, pulpy mush before ripping him in twain with her claws. The upper half of him reforms and starts shooting at her with arm turrets, angering her into roaring a pillar of fire at him. This only causes the torso to divide into several dozen smaller units who rain a full salvo. Sylvia responds by creating multiple black holes that suck the buggers away, but a fully restored Steven grabs one of these and flings it like a disc. Sylvia slips under it and shoots for Steven, swiping a claw and tearing out the front quarter of his head in a spray of gore. He's laughing hysterically despite missing most of his face, right up to when an eyeball shaped like a fist shoots out from his wound and punches Sylvia. Steven raises his fists and his freaky eye arm, ready for another round, and Sylvia screeches into it. Squishy is utterly speechless seeing his darling exacting all this ultraviolence)

"The head cheese is having himself a ball, as you can plainly see. But it's only temporary. Once he comes down from his high he'll put her away, and we'll be left in the darkness for another decade. Possibly longer"

Squishy: That can't happen. She has to beat him!

"Not like this. She's following the same course you were: playing by his rules. Despite how it may look, he's still in complete control of the scenario."

Squishy: Then how can she change that? She needs to know.

"And she will. Because you're gonna tell her."

Squishy: Me? How can I do that?

"Right now Sylvia serves as our last link to the realm of relevance. And like every link, there's a connecting point on our end."

(Something catches Squishy's eye. In the distance, an orange glow fills the dark)

"You happen to be the one with a body with the closest reach. Imagine that."

Squishy: So I just get over there and I can contact Sylvia?

"It's not so straightforward, my eager beaver. Master has a whole lot of mental safeguards to keep information in their proper place. Invisible sentries, traps, that kind of thing."

Squishy: Doohhh. Of course there would be.

"But perk up, oh woeful midget. Your benevolent creator has scrounged up something to alleviate such perils."

(From the nothing several glowing digital sheets of paper emerge and orbit around Squishy)

Squishy: What are these?

"Text files, bearing the original characters that have been created during your long slumber. Your sorta-successors. They can guide and protect you against the unseen treacheries, and there'll even be some kick-ass music thrown into the bargain as well. They kinda owe you that much."

(Squishy looks at the papers circling him)

Squishy: Uhhhhh. How do I make them work?

"They just will, when the time comes. And time right now is running short very fast, so get your mini-butt in gear! Tell that blood-starved beast of a wife to chill and settle things the proper way. The way you want things to end."

(Squishy looks across the gulf of empty standing between him and reconnecting with his beloved and salvation. He inhales deeply, exhales, nods)

Squishy: Once more into the breach, then.

"Exactly. Now get breaching and winning, son."

Squishy:...Don't call me that.

(Squishy focuses, and he and his halo of txt rise to a hushed chorus)

o/ Death Egg Robo Phase 3

(He finds his footing shortly after drums come on, and charges into the Null Space as a guitar joins. There's a shift in the air as something comes for him, but right as it strikes, one of the sheets flashes and a grizzled guardsman appears to slash away the obstruction with a sword)

Brannon: As you were, Squishy.

(Squishy nods dumbly and moves past the man. Something larger slithers fast at him, but this gets punched away by a beefy ogre sporting a ring tail and a leaf on their head)

Konata: Nahahaha! Feel the might of the tanuki!

(Squishy hurries away, but the floor gives way suddenly and he falls. Something grabs his arm and pulls him back onto solid ground. Looking at his savior)

Squishy: Tails?

Shinnosuke: Yes, I'm a kitsune. Come with me.

(The two-tailed fox boy leads Squishy by the hand in another direction, oblivious to Squishy's confusion. A seething presence rises before them, but luckily a ring-tailed wolf leaps in and brings the being down in their jaws)

Konata: You aren't safe from Konata's wrath either, rawr!

Shinnosuke: Just head that way. I'll stay here to help her.

Squishy: Okay.

(Squishy leaves the two mythical creatures and gets back to running. There's a low rumble, then something snags the back of his robe and yanks him back before something heavy slams before him. Looking up, he sees the culprit to be a Latino man in a gray hoodie)

Marco: You need to be more careful with where you're running, bato. (He stops to whack away something with a length of rebar, then pivots to shoot another thing with a pistol) Quit laying around and vamanos already!

(The Jawa does so, picking himself up and absconding. However he's stopped by the sudden appearance of a bruiser wearing black handling a baseball bat wrapped in Christmas lights)

Pete: Not this way, either.

(Squishy raises no fuss and runs off as the stalwart steward is joined by a stylish fellow in an aqua rain slicker)

Donnor: Seems we're working together once more, Petey~.

Pete: Don't look too deep into it, D. It's only temporary.

Donnor: If you insist.

(The two quit the chatter and go to town on the invisible forces with bat and knives. Squishy meanwhile is still heading for the slightly-less distant light, until a black and white border collie barks his for attention)

Squishy: Oh, hi there doggie.

(His distraction is well-timed as something thunks before his feet, halting him completely. Riley lets out a warning growl to what lurks in the dark, and when a rush of air proves it to be ineffective, she goes over and clamps onto Squishy's sleeve)

Squishy: Hey, what are you do-Yiiiiing!

(The farm dog yanks and tosses Squishy off his feet into the air and onto the back of a young zebra with wheels for legs, who is zooming away from a downpour of hidden arrows)

Zebra Wheely-Wheels: Hang on little monkey!

Squishy: I'm not a monkey.

Zebra Wheely-Wheels: Really? You're about as small as one.

(The zebra's focus switches upon seeing the unseeable chasm fast approaching. He brakes to a screeching halt that catapults Squishy clear off his back toward three passing fighter craft that bounce him over the abyss)

Lance: Stay on target!

Dex: Don't go dying!

Derrick: Keep going!

(With a flip Squishy lands on the other side, resting briefly when something heinous flows toward him. Someone tan in odd clothes drops in and fends off the dire stream with an ancient sturdy shield that leaves both parties untouched)

Tog: You gotta start doing a better job watching yourself, because this is getting a bit tiresome.

(A barefooted lady in a toga approaches them)

Agatha: Don't mind him. It's only a little farther now, little one.

Squishy: But I can't see what's hiding out there.

Agatha: I can help you with that. (A wave of the hand, and a trail of spectral light extends and meanders over to the orange glow) That would be the less hazardous approach.

Tog: I didn't know you could do that.

Agatha: And now you do. Be on your way, Squishy.

Squishy: Right. Thank you two.

(Squishy turns and dashes off, following the revealed path. He makes good headway until about a quarter up the trail when something splashes at his feet. More invisible droplets fall around him, making him stagger with uncertainty before he senses something massive bearing down on him from above. He braces for whatever is about to hit, when a child in an officer's uniform descends and mentally crumples the unknown mass and chucks it aside. The child gives Squishy a creepy smile before lifting the Jawa telepathically and firing him in the direction of the path. Squishy hits the ground running and pushes himself harder at seeing the end of the trail practically a stone's throw away. However, when he reaches what appears to be a set of stairs, the formation shudders and falls away into the void, dispersing the light path completely and bringing Squishy to another vexing halt)

Squishy: Aaaaggghh! Now what?

Ellen: Ride the UFO.

(There's a little girl in a pastel sundress to the side)

Squishy: Huh?

Ellen: The UFO can carry you across!

(And like that a shimmery purple UFO rises out from the dark, and without question Squishy hops onto it before it departs. The saucer hovers over the gap and Squishy leaps off into the orange circle of light below, which turns out to be a lone streetlamp)

Squishy: Made it! Now, connecting point, connecting point.

(He searches and spots a simple wall-mounted payphone near the edge of the light cone)

Squishy: Why am I not surprised.

(There's a swift rush of air overhead, and right then a two-headed dragon snatches the oncoming lances with its twin jaws, biting hard to hold them back)

Rightie: Grrrrr, no you don't!

Middle: A little too close there.

(Suddenly two more lances spring out, but these are caught in the jaws of two smaller, regular dragons: one yellow and one beige)

Charlotte: Hello again, you two!

Lawrence (formerly Leftie): Looks like I've saved your hide once again, Rightie.

Rightie: S-Shut it!

Middle: I suggest making your call now, rodent!

Squishy: A-ah, sure!

(Squishy turns to the payphone and lifts the receiver. There's only one button on the panel, so he presses it and holds the phone to his head. Back in the realm of active cognition, a ringing sound breaches the fury that is Sylvia's mind, unnoticed as she spars with her maker. But the voice that comes through catches her mental awareness)

: Syl… via… hear me…

Sylvia (Thoughts): Huh?

: Can you hear… Come on, Sylvia, please pick up!

Sylvia (Thoughts): Squishy?

Squishy: Yes, I got through! Listen, honey: I'm not dead, so this isn't some hallucination. It's actually me talking, and not just a ghost either!

Sylvia (Thoughts): Then where are you?

Squishy: That ties into why I'm contacting you like this.

(The conversation is disrupted by a burst of clawed feet sent out by Steven. Sylvia leaps away on elemental wings and fires a heat bomb that misses the super ego but burns a piece of brain matter below)

Steven: Whoa; you just blasted my budding alcoholism. Thanks a bunch, sweetheart!

(He grows flesh webbings and launches at Sylvia to resume CQC)

Sylvia (Thoughts): I'm a bit preoccupied, dear, so if you have something important to tell me then say it.

Squishy: Alright: Stop fighting him.

Sylvia (Thoughts): What?

Squishy: I need you to stop fighting Steven. You're giving him what he wants.

Sylvia (Thoughts): Are you out of your mind?

Squishy: I know it sounds crazy, but we had fought someone who feeds off spectacle, and Steven is operating by the same principle. The more you attack him all out, the more untouchable he becomes. He's outright thriving on this conflict.

(Steven slashes with a sword of teeth, but Sylvia grabs his arm, snaps it off and tosses it aside, scraping another part of the brain along the way)

Steven: Ack! My attraction to shapely reptiles! Where shall my male gaze wander to nooow~?

(He chuckles before whipping out some nerve cluster tentacles)

Squishy: You see? It's nothing but a game for him.

Sylvia (Thoughts): So what do I do? Hold still and let him kill me?

Squishy: It, uh, doesn't have to go like that. I'm thinking we fight him on our own terms. In a manner that we're most accustomed to.

Sylvia (Thoughts): How do we arrange that, exactly?

Squishy: We start from scratch. First, you need to clear your mind. Like in Jedi training.

Sylvia (Thoughts): Are you sure?

Squishy: Yes. Just make your head one big blank with nothing but you in it. Trust me.

(There's only the slightest hesitation)

Sylvia: Alright. (She goes still, closes her eyes, and exhales)

Steven: What—

(Sylvia stands alone in a vast white void, bereft of her Waltz trappings. It's only her in her most basic, natural form)

Squishy: Focus your inner balance. Be one with yourself.

(She says nothing as she maintains her breathing)

Squishy: That's it, honey. Now, we can sync up without distraction. I want you to clap along with me. Exactly as I do. Here goes.

*Clap, clap, clap*

Sylvia:*Clap, clap, clap*

*Clap, clap, clap*

Sylvia: *Clap, clap, clap*

(A hazy outline appears beside her)

Squishy: That's good. I'm gonna speed it up a bit. Are you ready?

(She nods, then)

*Clap, clap, clap-clap*

Sylvia: *Clap, clap, clap-clap*

*Clap, clap, clap-clap*

Sylvia: *Clap, clap, clap-clap*

(The outline darkens and grows more distinct)

Squishy: Are you able to feel me?

Sylvia: I can. Far clearer than before.

Squishy: Then it's working; it's the same with me. Just need to strengthen the signal a little more. Again!

*Clap, clap-clap-clap*

Sylvia: *Clap, clap-clap-clap*

*Clap, clap-clap-clap*

Sylvia: *Clap, clap-clap-clap*

(The figure takes on brown coloration)

Squishy: Nearly there. I bet you figured out where I'm going with this.

Sylvia: (Grin) Yes I have, absurd as it is.

Squishy: What's important is that it's our kind of absurd, so let's wrap this up with a chant and get to it. Okay? Here we go!

Squishy: It's-now-time.

Sylvia: It's-now-time!

Squishy: For-us-to.

Sylvia: For-us-to!

Squishy: Win-this-thing.

Sylvia: Win-this-thing!

(Squishy finishes solidifying into being. He looks up to Sylvia, who opens her eyes to behold him. Husband and wife; Connected Hearts once more)

Squishy: Hey there, gorgeous.

Sylvia: Hey yourself. Have all your parts?

Squishy: I sure hope so!

(They share a good marital laugh)

Sylvia: How many times does this make of me rescuing you? I've lost count at the moment.

Squishy: Let's not worry about it and say we're even.

Sylvia: Sure. For simplicity's sake.

Squishy: Yep. Now… (They strike a pose)

Both: Let's JAM!

(The Pia Mater lights with color and music at their return, unfreezing the master)

Steven:—the hell is this?

Squishy: Surprise dance battle, jerk-hole!

Sylvia: Picking up where we left off!

(Let's boogie!)

Steven: Up, right, left, down!

Sylvia: Up, right!

Squishy: Left, down!

Steven: Left, right, down, up!

Squishy: Left!

Sylvia: Right!

Squishy: Down!

Sylvia: Up!

Steven: Hey! Hey! Hey hey hey!

Sylvia: Hey!

Squishy: Hey!

Both: Hey hey hey!

(Steven flags)

Sylvia: Looking sluggish there. Getting cold feet?

Steven: N-no, I'm just heating up. Now get funked!

(GO!)

Steven: Up, right!

Sylvia: Up, right!

Steven: Right, left!

Sylvia: Right!

Squishy: Left!

Steven: Left, up!

Squishy: Left!

Sylvia: Up!

Steven: Up right chu!

Sylvia: Up right chu!

Steven: Up left chu!

Squishy: Up left chu!

Steven: Down chu!

Squishy: Down chu!

Steven: Up… chu!

Sylvia: Up…

Both: Chu!

(Steven hunches over, gripping his head)

Steven: Gaaaggh! This hype you're filling me with! It's, it's, it's making me—!

(Steven's mind is literally blown, the euphoria of the moment causing the release of every denizen of the galaxy!)

Squishy: Holy crap it's everybody!

Sara: Sylvia! Squishy!

Jo: Good work, Squish!

Cope: It took you long enough!

Stan: Mom! Dad!

Sylvia: Stanley! Steezy!

Steezy: Whaddup, sis?

Ackbar: What is happening?

Duff: I don't know, but I feel invigorated!

Chris: Yep; nothing beats a good resurrection.

Sally: Is some big epic battle going on?

Rick: Possibly the finale of one, Sal.

Steven: Gaaaaaa, not yet! Get out here you other mes; I didn't fabricate you just to take up space!

(Dozens of Facades fly out and take formation around their creator, while the Imaginaries form up across the way)

Anna: Super; just in time for the finisher.

Launch: Let's mess him up!

Sally: Through song~!

Everyone: YEAH!

(Dun! Dun! DUN! Let's Sing!)

Steven: La la la-la!

Facades: Hey Hey Hey!

Everyone: La La Let's Go!

Sara: Hey Hey Hey!

Steven: La la la-la-la! (Facades burst like Gushers)

Facades: Hey Hey Hey!

Jo: You have done enough!

Launch: Hey Hey Hey!

Steven: La-la-la-la-la-la!

Facades: Hey! Hey! Hey!

Everyone: Now put your ass to bed!

Sally: Hey! Hey! Hey!

(A short groove session as Steven generates more Facades, then)

Steven: La, la la-la!

Facades: Chu Chu Chu!

Will: We're back, together.

Anna: Chu Chu Chu!

Steven: La la la-la!

Facades: Chu Chu Chu!

Rick: You can't beat us.

Stan: Chu Chu Chu!

Steven: La La LA!

Facades: Chu! Chu! Chu!

Everyone: Syl-Vi-A!

Sylvia: La, la, Laaaaaaaaaa~

(Facades are popping off as the brain quivers from growing tension)

Squishy: Come on, everyone: Let's take it home!

Mania: CHU CHU CHU!

Hope: You can't win!

Mania: CHU CHU CHU!

Hope: Send us back!

Mania: Obey Me!

Hope: No screw you!

Mania: OBEY ME!

Hope: We said no!

Mania: What is wrong?

Hope: It is you!

Mania: WHAT, IS, WRONG?

Hope: We, just, said!

Mania: (Desperation) I, can't, lose!

Hope: (Conviction) You, Just, DID!

(In a flash everybody gets sucked back into the brain and drops into a starry sector of Republic space. Steven has reverted to dark-clothed normal size: one man standing before millions)

Steven: Ah fuck this. (Whips out a card) I summon you, Vegnagun!

(There's a gleam, and from the cosmos flies in the colossal Eldritch butterfly machina from FFX-2. It flaps mightily onto the scene and lands before the populace, allowing Steven to hop waaaay up to the control seat atop the head)

Launch: YAAAAA that thing is frickin' huuuge!

Cope: He would run for a superweapon, the coward.

Rick: It has to be taken down.

Stan: But how?

?: Yeah, that's one powerful puppy… (Everyone, even the music goes still as someone strolls to the head of the gathering) But it's no match for the likes of me.

Jedi: Contractor?

(It frickin' is him, back in the flesh sporting a white suit and swanky white cape. He allows a smirk before glancing back at his creations)

Cont: All of you! Focus your desires for existence on me so we can boot this homewrecker!

(The music blares back on as everyone cheers and express their wills to be in one rowdy clamor)

Squishy: This is it for you, Steve-O!

Sylvia: No more of your sick games!

Will: This is our universe!

Sara: You've caused us enough trouble!

Anna: It's time for you to scram!

Cope: You're incapable of controlling us!

Jo: Go retire in that lonely tower of yours!

Stan: Nobody wants you here!

Sally: Leave my family alone!

Rick: Your reign over us has ended!

Steezy: You got shown, baldy!

Ackbar: Begone from our Republic!

Duff: And never return!

Launch: Or you'll get even more of the hurt!

Chris: In case it wasn't clear enough: Hit the bricks, Jahweh!

Steven: Oh yeah, sure, bet you feel real great shouting insults and curses. But how will you feel after a blast from my Omega-Dick Cannon!

(Vegnagun's face splits open and its ludicrously long doom cannon pops out, pointing squarely at everyone)

Sylvia: You're impressing no one you psycho!

Squishy: Hold your grounds, everyone!

(Vegnagun charges)

Steven: Chu! Chu! Chu!

Cont: Here goes!

Everyone: Chu! Chu! Chu!

(Contractor raises his arms in a circle, which fires a massive beam as Vegnagun does the same. The beams collide, but the life energies override those of death, tearing through the cannon as it goes for the head)

Steven: Now this… is a way to go…

(A flare of white, and a calamitous explosion as Vegnagun's head is blown clean off. It keels over with a long groan, falling into the starry depths before exploding into a giant cloud of pyreflies. The citizens of the galaxy watch in bated silence)

Jo: Was… was that it?

Sara: Is he..?

Cont: Completely toast. No question.

(The assemblage erupts into cheers of immense magnitude)

Launch: Aw snap we got 'im!

Stan: Was that the final boss? The very final final boss?

Sally: (Hugs her brother) No doubt about it, bro!

Steezy: (Hugs them both) Heck to the yeah on that!

Anna: The God of gods stood no chance against us, hyeah!

Hugo: We're still totally alive again! WOOOOO!

Bill: Yeah: we seem to have have a knack for that, bud.

Governor: Long live our Republic!

Ackbar: Long live the galaxy!

I thought I had become used to the oddities of this universe, then something like this occurs.

(The red wyvern's pact partner could only shake his head wryly, cradling their toddler. Everybody else though is too busy celebrating to reflect, exchanging hugs, handshakes, high-fives, fist bumps, butt bumps, kisses and tribal dances. It's quite the spectacle of elation right there in the middle of space that Contractor regards with a rueful grin)

Cont: You're all rather quick in forgetting my part in your survival.

(Squishy hears this and breaks off to address him, the others on the team following)

Squishy: I'm sorry. You did help us make the final blow, and you helped me reconnect with Sylvia, so thank you.

Cont: Ahhhh, I wasn't being serious. I'm used to being ignored and not getting my just commendations, but you're welcome all the same~.

Anna: Ever the scion of humility.

Stan: That was your boss we blasted, right? The one who controls everything? Are things gonna be, you know, alright, with him gone?

Cont: Oh yeah, it's totally fine. It's like when you were in Henry's head, only it's the core consciousness that's been ousted, and the lowly yet lovable facet of creativity that remains standing.

Jo: Wait hold on. You mean you are now in charge of everything?

Cont: (Rolling eyes) By the laws of succession… (Flashes an impish grin) Yeah, I am.

Cope: Oh brother.

Rick: Likewise.

Cont: Don't give me that. There's no authoritative presence to pressure me into hassling or erasing you guys, and every loose end has been tied up neatly, so things are well and truly squared.

Sylvia: What comes next, then?

Cont:...A few things. But that can be discussed later. For now, I need you to celebrate.

(With a wave of his arm, a bridge of starlight forms and extends far out into the cosmos)

Cont: The first trilogy ended on Space Channel 5, so it's only fitting for this final one to do the same with you dancing to the other end of the galaxy!

Sally: Yee! I'm down for that!

Anna: Why the flip not!

Squishy: Yes! Everyone: Let's dance to Coruscant so we can PAR-TAAAAAY!

Everyone: WOOOOOOOOO!

(The music resumes in full force as absolutely everyone dances in formation onto the star bridge: the Jedi, the Republic administration and military, the Mega Man Boss Corps, Geek Squadron, and every other character major, minor and background! Yet Contractor remains behind unnoticed, arms folded and smiling as this grand jubilant parade makes its way to the core worlds. Eventually the sounds of celebration fade as the procession dwindles to a distant waver)

Cont:...You can come out now.

(Black-garbed Steven steps up to his aspect)

Steven: Good, they're far away. I can't imagine how absurdly awkward it would have been if they saw me.

Cont: You don't have to: I'm all about the imagination. And yeah, it would've been ugly.

Steven: Of course. But they're off and it's all quiet again. Too quiet, I think.

Cont: I thought you liked the quiet.

Steven: Yes, but it's jarring going from super loud to dead silent. And I'm not feeling this isolated cosmic setting at the moment.

Cont: I hear ya. Let's fix that.

(A snap of the fingers, and the two are sitting in cozy chairs in a shaded alcove on the side of a sun-dappled mountain. The sound of birdsong and a distant waterfall fill the crisp air, and there's a vast, picturesque wooded valley far below teeming with life)

Steven: Yeah, this is more like it. (Relaxes with a cup of piping hot tea)

Cont: Mm-hm. (Takes a sip from his own cup) So, we've made it: the end of Trilogy 13 at last.

Steven: Yes. It's been a long time coming.

Cont: Aren't you excited? The Final Trilogy; the thing you thought would remain incomplete, is now complete! Tell me you're at least relieved not to have this hanging over your head anymore.

Steven: I am relieved, I can say that much. As for excitement… I wasn't exaggerating when I said I lost the motivation, the enthusiasm for this universe. No doubt I'd have been stoked back in college over this, but now? Not so much.

Cont: I know. Sometimes you just can't rekindle a spark, despite what stories, tropes and other peoples' experiences tell us.

Steven: Especially with adult responsibilities weighing you down, further compacted by the comforts of stability and routine, and the general acceptance of your station in life.

Cont: Those are some real doozies for sure. (Gobbles up a slice of pound cake) But at least you kept your artistic commitment intact. It's always a good feeling when you take care of business seemingly left unfinished forever.

Steven: It is. (Nibbles his own slice)

Cont: Also, you kinda had to finish it up at some relatively near point.

Steven: Why's that?

Cont: The side stories, of course!

Steven: A-ah, right.

Cont: I mean, publishing those things had pretty much set you up to finish number 13, given they all happened afterwards.

Steven: Yes, and they also spoiled how things would ultimately play out in 13, so that sucked the uncertainty and tension from the final confrontation.

Cont: But now the readers know exactly how it happens!

Steven: Oh yes. The possibly dozen readers. Still, it is satisfying.

Cont: That it is. (Has more cake and tea) Now the question stands: What will you do next, story-wise?

(Steven looks down, rubbing his cup)

Steven: I'm honestly not sure. I may write something original, or go to one of my other abandoned works. At some point write a few more side stories, and perhaps put in more chapters in the Caim and Angelus one. But, I think I'll take a break for starters.

Cont: Good idea. It had to have been exhausting putting yourself (mostly) out there.

Steven: More like surreal, but yeah. It's going to be a long time before I put myself in the spotlight like that again.

Cont: Though it'd be more prudent to wrap up this current story before getting into any of that.

Steven: Oh right: this still needs an ending!

Cont: So how should we wrap this up?

Steven: It was originally going to be like the FFVII staff roll, but things aren't nearly dramatic enough for that. Perhaps something hopeful-sounding, and acoustic, with a good backbeat. A cozy kind of tune to chill and reflect to.

Cont: Hmmmm… Maybe John Mellencamp?

Steven: Yes! Some of the ol' Mellencamp should work. And I have just the song in mind.

Cont: Already ahead of ya. Want to start it now?

Steven: Yes. Twelve years has been enough waiting. Why delay it further?

Cont: Why indeed. Enjoy your break, Steve.

Steven: I shall. And you enjoy the new promotion, my esteemed alter ego.

Cont: (Grin) With relish.

(Another snap)


(Credits roll as "Small Town" by John Mellencamp plays. After some lyrics, the singing pauses as we change over to the upper courtyard of Compendium Headquarters. Most of the Embodiments have gathered before a large set of double doors, which fly open to unveil a very authoritative-looking Contractor. He kills the image with a cocky smile and steps forward, the Cool S banners switching to his Blue C logo as he approaches his comrades/new underlings)

Cont: Hello chaps. I trust we're feeling dandy today?

Entré: That we are, Chief.

Assistant: Certainly.

Nat: I'm pretty good.

Act: Ehh.

Accountant: Verily, on account of actually being present. My thanks to you again for my restoration.

Cont: Think nothing of it. Suppressing a personality trait is too much effort, after all.

Depressant: Yet Financer remains confined.

Cont: Suppressing more than one trait is too much effort.

Demi: Still have the f***ing energy to turn the d*** censors on. I didn't even get to swear one f***in' godd*** raw curse so I'm pissed as s***!

Cont: You'd still be even if you had the chance: that's just your mode. Now! (Claps hands) Though we're under new management (by which I mean me), it doesn't necessarily mean things are gonna change drastically.

Cons: Oh joy: still mucking around with Star Wars characters nobody cares a s*** for.

Cont: Now now Cliff, I'm open to any and all suggestions and objections. Just bear in mind that there are consequences for undermining my fresh new authority. (Sinister grin, which makes Conspirator huff) First order of business: We're switching back to the old office layout. More compact and simpler to manage for all of us, I say.

Assistant: That it is.

Cont: Also: No more messing around with that galaxy. It's simply not worth the hassle at this point, and we've been able to get by while it chills in the background. So any hang-ups you still have I want you to suck 'em up, or we're gonna have words. Objections?

Ex: Nah, man.

Act: Meh.

Cons: Sure.

Entré: Looks to be all green, Boss.

Cont: That it does, Ace. Now let's get to renovating!

(Back to the credits and lyrics for a bit before switching to the interior of a busy Coruscant spaceport. Near one boarding gate, siblings say their goodbyes)

Stan: Are you sure you want to leave just before the banquet, Rick?

Rick: I'm sure. I've put this off long enough. And after a week of partying, wouldn't you be sick of social functions for a while?

Stan: It's a smaller, more formal one, so it should be fine.

Sally: You're not just running away to be all anti-social again, are you?

Rick: No I'm not, sis, don't worry. After what's happened, I feel like doing things differently. See what more there is to me then what I've been these past several years, and that requires some alone time. A sabbatical of sorts. And I assure you I'm not going to be brooding most of the time, if at all.

Sally: Well, okay. Just keep in touch regularly, and don't drop off the face of the galaxy for months on end.

Rick: I won't; that's one of the little changes I'll be practicing.

Stan: I hope it doesn't take you too long to discover yourself.

Rick: I'll see about visiting you or the folks if it happens to drag too long. (He hesitates over something) I was going to do this on the ship, but what the heck: This is a good enough moment.

(He reaches up, takes his hood and pulls it back, revealing the same exact brown scaly head as his siblings… except for the silky length of blonde hair he's sporting)

Rick: Huh; I was kinda expecting everybody to freak out about this.

Sally: It's because that hair is no weirder than what you already are, ya goof!

Rick: Yeah; it's super apparent now, heheh. Anyway…

(He reaches forward to hug his siblings, who likewise return the gesture for one snuggly heartfelt farewell group hug. After sharing the love a good moment they detach)

Rick: I'll drop you a line fairly soon.

Sally: You better; I have the means to track you down.

Stan: Take care of yourself, bro.

Rick: The same to you, little brother. Give Mom and Dad my regards.

Stan: But we're tripl—

Sally: Sure thing, Ricky!

(They exchange a final parting wave before Rick heads off on a fresh journey of self-discovery. Turn to credits and vocals for a short bit, then switch to an apartment that Stan steps into. After closing the door and pocketing his keys he spots a large note stuck to the wall. He glances around nervously, and sensing nothing in the apartment but himself he takes the note and reads the following)

"Dearest Stanopher,

I figured you've waited long enough, so I left you something special in the bedroom. Just follow the instructions and say adios to that pesky emptiness in your life. Have fun, kid, and give her my regards.

Much Love,

Big Poppa C

;)"

(Stan is at first confused, then wary as he heads for his bedroom, following a trail of post-it notes with arrows on them stuck to every surface of the hall. Cautiously he enters the bedroom and flicks on the light, immediately spotting the brown paper parcel on his bed. Caution turns to anticipation as he takes it and tears the wrapping, then excitement turns to surprised joy at what he finds. In his claws is a sheet with the aforementioned instructions, and a very special, enchanted edition of the Shadowrun core rulebook

(More credits and lyrics run by us before we shift to a packed banquet hall, loaded with dignitaries, government and military officials, citizens of high repute, and of course the Jedi. Everyone is chatting warmly whilst enjoying a most dope-a** selection of top-quality cuisine)

Launch: It's outrageous how good this spread is! (Pours himself some rich oil-laced coolant)

Duff: Yes it's certainly nice, but please try to restrain yourself some, Octopardo. (Takes a moderately large handful of cyber chips)

Gov: Only the best for our most celebrated and hardworking Republic citizens and servicemen, organic or mechanical.

Ackbar: It's truly a diverse and, dare I say, costly selection on display this evening, Archwell.

Gov: Obscenely costly; I've had to use up the year's entire social services budget to get all this food and drink. But no price is too great in showing my sincerest appreciation.

Tech Off: It may very well be should the public learn of this.

Chris: Loose lips sink ships, Techie, and I'm rather fond of this gravy boat we're sailing in. (Pours entire gravy boat down gobber, followed by another, and another. At least the Jedi table is showing better conduct)

Sara: This has been a pretty nice banquet so far. Far less stifling than the typical ones.

Will: Real casual, yeah.

Cope: Though I wonder why we're having it following all the constant celebrating we've been doing.

Jo: People probably still haven't gotten over how we all just squeaked by total annihilation yet again and want to enjoy that near-death buzz while it's still around.

Cope: Huh. If that means good eating and little else, then it's no bother to me.

Will: Hey Stan, you've been pretty quiet there. Something on your mind?

Stan: Oh, just, thinking about what I'm gonna do later.

Jo: What, got yourself a hot date?

Stan: (Blush) Uhh, umm, well…

Jo: Oh dang. I hadn't been serious, but wingo, good on ya. Guess you've gotten over that one girl, I forgot her name.

Stan: A-about that...

Sally: It's fine, Stan. If you want it to stay private we can respect that, since it's your business and no one else's.

Jo: Jeez, just trying to make conversation.

Sara: Has anyone seen Sylvia? Or Squishy for that matter?

Anna: He's probably gone to the bathroom, given all the soda he's been guzzling. Sylvia might have gone as well, I assume.

Sara: Oh. Makes sense.

(A tinging of glass brings everyone's attention to the maître d' at the other end of the banquet hall)

Maître d': I would like to announce the start of this evening's entertainment. For your dining enjoyment, I give you the Serengi Coruscant Revue.

(A colorfully-dressed cast of actors come out)

Tech Off: Ah yes: public funds very well spent.

Gov: Ooohoohoo, what joy! (Giddily claps)

(However, the mirth quickly turns to shock as an organ grinder comes in leading a trio of monkeys)

Jo: Oh crap.

Anna: Oh no.

Cope: Oh god.

Daft Woman: Oh look, Claude: Monkeys.

(Chris pulls his face out of some mashed potatoes and fixates on the little simians, his eyes going narrow and his face reddening and tweeking)

Ackbar: Just what in Contractor's name possessed you to arrange this?

Gov: (Face frozen in horror) I, I knew nothing about any monkeys. I didn't know…

(Al Gore comes over and shakes him)

Al Gore: You fool! You foolish fool!

Chris: MONKEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEYS!

(Chris throws himself across the room, and what follows is utter mayhem as he tears through the banquet hall trying to catch and force himself onto those frightened confused monkeys as they scramble over every bit of furniture and person to stay clear of those hairy hands. The Jedi look on blankly as food, cookware and mortified yells fill the air)

Will: So much for a casual meal.

Anna: No way I'm enduring this sober. (Grabs a wine bottle and starts chugging)

Cope: Me neither. Hand me that. (Reaches over but is denied)

Anna: Heey! Ask first!

Cope: Sorry. May I please?

Anna: Sure.

(The two share the bottle and weather the storm. The final lyrics and credits play out before we fade to the rooftop of the banquet hall. Sylvia steps out from the stairwell into the cool Coruscant night, and a quick glance shows Squishy sitting on the edge of a piece of stonework, looking out to the glimmering lights of the megacity and of the nighttime traffic. He notices her as she approaches)

Sylvia: What are you doing up here?

Squishy: I just felt like coming up for some fresh air and quiet. Want to join me?

Sylvia: Sure. (Sylvia comes over and sits down by her husband) A little weird you would duck out like this while dinner is still happening. Is something on your mind?

Squishy: Just… thinking about how it's finally over. That everything's back, and there's no longer some looming threat. At some points in that fortress, I legitimately felt uncertain about succeeding. That we would wind up stuck in there forever. But, it worked out like always. And it's such a relief. (Huffs) Sorry for ducking out without notice, and for sounding bleak there for a second.

Sylvia: You're fine. Nothing interesting was happening down there. And I also find it a little hard to believe that things are truly done. Yet, deep down, I feel that it really is the case. Like something has loosened in my subconscious and I feel less constricted as a result.

Squishy: The grasp of the Master finally letting go, likely. I've felt it as well, and I bet the others have felt it, too. (He places a hand on one of Sylvia's claws) This couldn't have come about without you, you know that? You kept things going when it should've been lost.

Sylvia: You came back when I thought you were gone for good and kept my mind straight, not to mention all the work you and the others had done to get that far. So don't go giving me all the credit, Squishy.

Squishy: I know. I just wanted an excuse to say how I love you still.

Sylvia: And I love you just as dearly.

(They squeeze hands, and share a silent moment looking out across the city)

Squishy: It really is quiet and peaceful up here.

Sylvia: That it is. Weirdly so, considering all the air traffic below. I can hardly hear it.

Squishy: I suppose this is one of those rare spots in Coruscant that's a vacuum of sound. The right air pressures and densities or something.

Sylvia: I suppose.

(Suddenly the sky above fills with light as fireworks of various colors and different shapes burst and bloom)

Sylvia: Huh. Didn't think the Governor arranged for fireworks as well.

Squishy: Strange how they're going off while everyone is inside.

(Seemingly in response to their talk, a particularly large burst of blue goes off, displaying the box-enclosed C logo of Contractor, a sketch of him winking and pointing a finger gun, and the words "You're Welcome" that take up a good chunk of sky before fading away)

Sylvia: Ahh. It would be him. At least he's not dropping in in person unannounced.

Squishy: Be careful, dear: He just might.

Sylvia: I'll kick him off this roof if he does.

(But no such disruption occurs. Instead, the two are treated to a silent viewing of fireworks as "Mario and Peach Theme" from Paper Mario plays. Soon the couple lean and snuggle against each other, sharing their warmth and affection, forgetting everything but themselves. Wrapped in contentment for the serenity of the present, the joy of living, and the hope that comes with an unbridled future)

THE END