Author's Notes: Here we go, the final part to Original Crisis. I'd like to thank every single person who read this; you are the ones who make this all worth writing, especially those of you who have been generous enough to stick with me through the chapters. I've had a truly fantastic time writing this thanks to you, and have both lived one dream and taken a step towards fulfilling even bigger dreams. My greatest wish is that anyone who reads this can experience at least some of the fun I had writing it, not because it's some special masterpiece or anything, but just because, I think that's what this kind of writing is about, you know :D? Most special thanks of all to bustahead, for letting me use her characters Arson and Reiko, and Hade. She's an awesome writer and even moreso an awesome friend and person, so, thanks for making this possible at all, busta :).
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Reiko held his nose tightly shut with one hand, and the offending nappy in the other as he carried it with a kind of reverent terror to the sanitary bin. Discarding the object, he turned back to its producer, grabbing a fresh diaper and getting to work replacing the old one.
He supposed most would expect that having saved the world he would demand some allowances with such, menial tasks. And it was true this; task he found especially menial, but, he didn't save the world because he wanted it to owe him one. He did so because he believed it to be worth saving, the way it is, even if it could be better. Thus here he was in the middle of the afternoon finishing the community service time that he was doing for Vlad. He took honest satisfaction in doing something, even if he didn't enjoy it, because it needed doing. He was where he was needed. And, judging by the nearby escalating crying, he was needed, badly…
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Meanwhile, at the Temen-Ni-Gru, things were getting back to chaos as orderly as possible. After the issue of replacing their costumes and other details, Dante and Vergil had put aside their differences long enough to thank the trio for saving the fandom formally. Zone would never, ever forget the expression on the elder son of Sparda's face as he was honour-bound to thank a hamster. Shortly after, arrangements were made for Arson, Reiko and Zone, who had been healed up by supernatural means (naturally), to leave, while Dante and Vergil did their best to continue with the canon by taunting one another about the various unspeakable horrors they'd seen the other subjected to (literally, unspeakable, this story would be removed if we spoke of them), until they broke into a fight. As the trio left they passed Lady going the other way, who Zone was able to get to shoot at him without even pausing in stride with a very immaturely-mature flirt. Arkham was also on his way, and when they pointed out Jester had been killed, he replied that he'd been working on his own comic routine. He showed off his comic smile, which sent Arson running, screaming from the tower…
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Speaking of Arson, he was sat in front of the TV playing the computer when Reiko came back, having done his remaining five hours of service. Walking into the room, having hung up his coat, he bent down, and was about to ask Arson what he was playing. Then he saw the blazing inferno on the screen, "The Sims again?".
"Hahah, wrong!" the hybrid cried, and before Reiko could interject, he grabbed the game case and showed it to him. Reiko looked at the title, which read Sims 2.
"I stand corrected" Reiko laughed, noticing that the people burning to death were doing so with a lot more personality and animation than the last time. "Well, as long as it's fun. Where's Zone" he asked curiously.
"I dunno, he said he had something to take care of and would be back soon" Arson answered distractedly.
"He did? I wonder what he's doing?" Reiko mused…
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The grass was faded green, partially because of the low mist that seemed to cling to it. Hanging motionless, impaled on the limp blades, it resembled a thick, grey carpet. Around him, were tombstones, Zone walking through the rows on his hind paws, his front pair occupied. It was hard to sense direction here, but… There.
Coming to the spot he looked out over the crest of the gently sloping hill, seeing the countless graves of the forgotten. It was not a special spot by any grand means, presenting a good view, and little else. Only to him did it hold any true significance, as it was where he had stood, when he first felt terror at being in this place.
Now, he was here willingly, no longer afraid. He had a task to do, so, he started, taking a couple of minutes with what he'd brought. Then, he stood back, admired it for a moment, and left, going back to his friends…
Behind him, two blue roses formed a Z with a plaque, on which was engraved "Loved dreams, never die"…