Chapter 2

Quite coincidently enough, that was the beginning of the end of the world. If there is in fact a hell, and historians had all the knowledge of the universe at their disposal, then said historians would be in dire want of paper in which to theorize on Douglas Adam's worth as a prophesier. They would probably use Nostradamus as an adjective in reference to said, not the historian said, but the entire theory about historians theorizing. But of course none of this is being said, only written down, and one can argue that writing is only a form of thought. Logia! Which when you think about it pretty funny actually. Hahha haha. Seriously though said theorizing is an apt metaphor when one would think about the end of the world. The only difference being that instead of aliens it was a being of such utmost power that he could destroy the world in a flick of his nonexistent fingers. He was currently a bat. A bat without fingers at that, which if one bothers to think about it would make him a different Species, perhaps Genius, From Over Came Phil King Dastardly; Life. Hahha haha. That of course referring to the beginning of the reality coming into existence, as that most certainly is the beginning of any end of anything inclusive in the reality, and for convenience's sake, god bless her soul, let us refrain from going any further into that infinite regression. But back to the bat, he was currently enjoying life on Earth, get it, he's a bat, he flies, doesn't touch earth. Hahha haha, classic. The end of the world would be a while yet, at least by his hand. Did I mention the Nietzschean Dragon, because how can you have a superman when it's a superdragon. The limits of reality are truly boundless! Hail Eris! Hail Discordia! I-E!E?

It was a lot of pain, so much pain. It felt as if her whole life was pain, had been pain, twenty-two long years of pain, and there was only more pain. Pain?!?! There was pain! Pain! Why was there pain!?!? It felt like her body was being turned inside out to put it mildly, or so it seemed. She exited the swirling portal of greens and purples into a world of blacks and whites and grays and what seemed like a distant and haunting memory of pain. She felt nauseous and nauseousness often and this case being no different, leads to vomiting. Rather unpleasant.

Dawn finished after a few fake stops and sat down, her head still shaken up by the temporary planal sickness and lack of color in the world. She fell onto her back and could see the mask man staring down at her.

"Quite done?"

Dawn stared into the mask that filled her vision for a while before answering. "Yes, I think so."

"Good…bye then. Place to go and people to see, my avatar will take care of some of your needs in the meantime. I hope you have a pleasant time and set things right with the world."

"Wait, whaa?

From her vantage point, Dawn could see the mask being drawn down by coils of darkness. She turned around to see it disappearing into a swirling vortex on the ground not unlike the one she had come out of. Once it had disappeared the body it had left, now kneeling, stood up. She could see the figure was albino, only with yellow eyes. Which really isn't albino, but he had white skin so it doesn't really matter. He looked down on Dawn and smiled.

"Ah the hapless fool, welcome to Nothing."

"Hapless fool?"

"What? Oh, I was being sarcastic, fortunate sage."

"Ok… Nothing?"
"That's where we are, this reality."

"Then we're in Nothing."

"Yep. Nothing is perfect by the way, but just in case it isn't we need you to help the holy FRN organization. If you'll just follow me I'm sure we will eventually get to wherever we need to go."

"FRN?"

"French Royalist Necromancers."

"I see."

"Logia."

The two stared at each other for a moment or three before the avatar set out at a brisk skip down the road the portal had dropped them off near. She looked at the slowly fading portal and dismissed it in her mind; Dawn rushed to catch up and enjoy Nothing as much as she could. She chuckled silently and kept a steady pace behind him, observing as an art critic the different shades of grey she could see.