TwiLyghtSansSparkles

What Happened Outside Of Canon

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This is a thread for all of our random insanity—the stuff that doesn't fit in the Question thread, that is. :P DO NOT take any of this seriously. While there might be a few nods to this thread in canon :ph34r: reading and understanding this thread is not essential to reading and understanding the other What Happened Inthreads.

Currently up: Whatever the heck you want. I expect many ponies.

Edited by TwiLyghtSansSparkles
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Neverthere was so glad that she and Numnums had decided to elope.

Well she had decided to elope, Numnums had decided to continue mauling the trail of Portlanders trying to flee the city.

"But that's basically the same thing isn't it Numnums?" Neverthere whispered in the ear of the giant Allosaurus.

Numnums spared her a glance, long since having discovered that nothing would get the bubbly young girl off of his back he seemed to have resigned himself to her company.

"Oh Numnums, you do know how to make a girl blush, you'll have to save looks like that until after the ceremony. Where are we having the ceremony by the way?"

Numnums let out a low growl.

"Oh of course you're right, that's the business of the bride, not the groom. You just focus on looking cute."

Stomping on yet another former citizen of Portland, Numnums stopped to rip the poor man apart with his teeth, adding a fresh stain of blood to the dozens of others that marked its jaw.

Neverthere was so glad that she'd decided to leave that stuffy old Lightwards in his floating museum, he'd never paid her enough attention. Numnums here knew how to treat a lady, even if he did occasionally get a little too affectionate in public when he tried to kiss her, or at least that's what she called it when he tried yet again to close his massive jaws around the pink-clad girl.

"Oooh, I just realized I haven't introduced you to my parents Numnums! Well the wedding will have to wait, you simply must meet them! Mamma never really liked me much, she was quite harsh with my 'sillyness' as she said but that's all water under the bridge now. She was always saying I should settle down and marry."

Neverthere let out a giggle.

"Just make sure you give her a biiiiiig hug when you see her, ok Numnums?"

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Nathan didn't know how she did it. If he had to hazard a guess, he would say that it was a curse of some kind. Escaping Newcago had caused the Spirit of Random Insanity to follow him around, engineering the most ridiculous situations for its own amusement. And then resuming possession of his girlfriend before she could get too sane. Whatever the reason, Doctor Funtimes' last teleportation jump had landed them smack in the middle of an abandoned shop filled with kittens. 

 

Funtimes was on the floor in a second, letting out a long squeal of delight. "Look at them all! There's a black one and a white one and—​great googly moogly that one is so fluffy!" She lifted the fluffy one in her arms and petted it. "I will call you Fluffius Sparticus III, and I will hold you and love you forever!" 

 

Sir Fluffius looked like an oversized lint ball with an impossibly adorable pair of golden eyes. "Um, Doctor?"

 

"Uh huh?"

 

He did his best to ignore a calico that had perched on his Converse, gazing up at him with bright blue eyes. "Shouldn't we figure out who put them here? You know, if it's a trap or something?" 

 

"What sort of meanie meanieface would make a trap out of kittens?" she cooed, both to him and Sir Fluffius. 

 

Nathan opened his mouth to argue, but thought better of it. He couldn't think of a single Epic who would fill a shop with kittens and leave while the kittens still lived—save for the curly-haired matter manipulator making faces at Sir Fluffius. Another kitten had curled up on her skirt and slept, purring, while a brown one batted at the laces of her Converse. 

 

The calico on his shoe mewed at him. 

 

He gazed down at the kitten, and those blue eyes gazed back. A smile quirked his lips. It really was cute, in a way he hadn't seen for years. There simply weren't a lot of kittens in Newcago. 

 

Then again, if there was an Epic on his way….

 

Nathan decided he didn't care. He scooped up the calico and stroked its silky fur, his smile widening as the kitten began purring. It was Valentine's Day. He was in a shop filled with kittens. And if some Epic decided to vent his anger on those helpless animals—well, his girlfriend could just trap that Epic in tar. 

 

Funtimes was curled on her side now, laughing as Sir Fluffius batted at her curly hair. 

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A raptor and a mammal stood on a hillside. Before them stretched the stone and metal structures of the mammal's territory. The mammals no longer held their territory. They fled before the alpha mammal's supreme pack, calling out in terror as they died. The reptiles led by the alpha mammal were thorough predators, and few of the fleeing mammals escaped.

 

The raptor was not with the alpha mammal at the moment. At the moment he stood watching the carnage, standing motionless beside a mammal that confused him like no other. It bore hair on its face above its mouth, greased into a thin line. It bore a soft silken crest atop its head, a black cylindrical shape that the mammal could detach to tip towards passing females. A flowing membrane trailed from its back--fins of some kind, perhaps? How very strange.

 

The strangest part of all was when the mammal spoke.

 

"What do you think, Wes my good fellow?" the mammal spoke quietly, putting out an arm and patting the raptor on the back. The raptor never understood the words, but would give a quiet hiss in response.

 

"Smoke in the air. People screaming," the mammal continued, his voice wavering with excitement. "Destruction on a scale Portland has never seen before. The combined forces of the Mesozoic Era, all under the thumb of our Emperor. Oregon may not last to see next week."

 

A crowd of the running mammals rushed past, dying loudly as an enormous reptilian predator crushed them underfoot and feasted upon them voraciously. Strangely, a mammal stood upon this one's back--while the raptor couldn't smell it, his eyes could make out its form in exquisite detail. It was one of the female mammals, standing on the top of the dinosaur's head with its arms stretched out, letting out a cry the raptor had come to associate with delight. Strange. How very strange.

 

"That'd be Neverthere," the mammal by his side continued, mouth curling as he showed teeth. In a raptor this would be a prelude to eating or killing. In the mammal, it seemed to show contentment. "She's a fine enough gal. Pretty face. Charming personality. Good figure, very nice legs. Somehow, though... she just can't enthrall me as much as you have."

 

The raptor made no reply. His eyes slowly turned to look at the mammal, but snapped back to the destruction ahead.

 

"Sorry," the mammal said with a cough. "Too forward of me, I suppose. But I just feel you should know... you're the most marvelous being I've met in Oregon. Fascinating. Stoic. Eyes that glint with suppressed with and cleverness. You are a beast worthy of the world, but kept as a servant."

 

The raptor let out another rumbling hiss, agreeing with the statement despite not understanding it.

 

"You could come with me, you know," the mammal went on, eyes pressed towards the horizon. "I have an assignment in Gresham to attend to... but you could accompany me. Lightwards wouldn't mind if I took you. You could leave him beside and travel with someone who actually appreciates your talent. You could be... my assistant."

 

The mammal turned his head towards the raptor, his face contorted in what may have been concern. "If you want to, of course. Don't feel obligated to do anything for little old me. But you should know that I'm happy to have you. We could see the world together, and hunt however much you like along the way."

 

With those vocalizations, the mammal checked the band of metal around his wrist. "It's time for me to go. Follow if you wish."

 

And with that, he turned and strode away, his back to the dying mammal city.

 

The raptor stood motionless for quite some time, staring out over the annihilation his comrades were wreaking. But finally, the mammal's words reverberating inexplicable in his mind, he turned and followed the finned mammal.

 

He may not have understood the words the mammal spoke, but her understood affection. And an affection like they shared hadn't been seen in this world in a very long time.

 

It was time to show the world what a mammal and a raptor united could do.

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Red was happy

Much could be said for Red. They could say she was an Epic. True. They could say she wa crazy. Probably also true. But rarely could they say that she was really happy.

Red was drowning vanillas.

Nighthound was also killing vanillas.

Ray was looking like she wanted to run. Typical. That kind of put a downer on Red's mood. She shrugged. Didn't matter. Not like she would get far.

Other than Ray, it was the perfect date.

Screaming vanillas were the perfect orchestra for their love.

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(Part one for the double date post by me and Twi.

 

Valentine’s day had come and Shiny Sparkle decided that it shall be a spectacular day for her and Autumn.

 

Following her heart she teleported into Autumn’s office. Once she arrived she threw herself at her cute girlfriend, gave a delighted squeal and teleported again. This time they appeared in a special pet shop, Shiny Sparkle scouted it out specifically as the one with the cutest kittens around. Maybe they could get a cute red one.

“Autumn, happy Valentine's!”


“Thanks, um, you too,” Autumn said, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear. She was still a bit bewildered at the speed of it all--she had been minding her business, sitting behind her desk; and then one delighted squeal later, she stood inside a pet shop. “Where are we?” How far from The Dalles are we, and what will Vondra say when he finds out?


“We are in a pet shop, darling. Just look at all the cute kitties.” Shiny Sparkle hopped up and down next to Autumn. “You know, Neko is always so cute when we visit Baxter, so I thought we could pick up one as well. A bit like starting a small family.” She stopped jumping around and gave Autumn a hug.


Two crazy cat ladies. Reader is going to love this, Autumn thought, though she couldn’t contain a smile at the shop. The room they had landed in--a side room of some sort--had four kittens padding across the floor. Another wandered through the open door, out into what Autumn assumed was the main area of the shop, and one of the kittens sat at her feet and mewed.

 

“Are they supposed to be out on their own like this?”

“Probably not… but I thought they would be cuter if they walked up to us like this, so I let them out of their cages before taking you here.” Shiny Sparkle gave Autumn a sheepish grin.


“You were right on that one,” Autumn said, scooping up the kitten that sat at her feet. It was white and short-furred, with a handful of black spots scattered across its back.


“See,” her smile grew wider, “look at this.” Shiny Sparkle petted the kitten Autumn was holding and made its fur glow. It gave off an warm light in all colors of the rainbow. “How about we look at the other ones in the main room?”


Autumn would have been just as content to watch the kitten in her arms cast rainbow rays all around the room, but she nodded and followed. Okay, maybe dating an Epic isn’t so bad…


Another couple was already there. At least, Autumn assumed they were a couple; at any rate, they were a couple of strange ones. He stood in the center of the room, holding a calico as a black kitten batted the edge of his duster, and she lay on the floor as kittens played with her hair, her shoelaces, her color-splattered prom dress.

 

“Um, hi,” Autumn said with a nervous smile. “You, uh, you like kittens, too?”

 

Even through her glasses, she swapped her usual green ones for a pair with a slight red tint in honor of the occasion, Shiny Sparkle could recognize the colors that splattered the third woman’s dress. Finding someone with good style is rather rare. Close to her stood a man wearing a duster that held a calio.

“Seems like someone found our date spot, Autumn. How about we go with a double date?”

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(Part two of the double date for me and Edgedancer.)

 

The woman in the dress sat up, gently disentangling herself from the kittens that swarmed all around her, and clapped her hands. “Double date! I love dates and I love double things so that sounds amazing!” In a second she was on her feet and had wrapped her arms around first Shiny Sparkle’s shoulders, then Autumn’s. “I’m Doctor Funtimes and that’s my boyfriend, Traveler! Do you like muffins?”

 

“Of course I like muffins, especially those with sprinkles on them. Anyway, I’m Shiny Sparkle and and this is my girlfriend Autumn Glass, not an Epic. Although, her cuteness could be a power on its own. Where did you get that dress, it’s wonderful.”

 

Doctor Funtimes giggled. “Made it. I could make your shirt all prettyful, too.”

 

Shiny Sparkle hummed as she considered it for a moment, “Thanks, but I like these clothes as they are. I do however have a dress at home that could use some work. Autumn, do you think it would suit me?”

 

Not an Epic. Another Epic, dating another not-an-Epic, and she just tossed it out there. “Hi, this is my girlfriend. I’m an Epic but she’s not.” He continued petting his kitten, wondering if he should say so, if he could….

 

Forget it. If there was an Epic who didn’t care, he could risk it.

 

“Uh, yeah. I’m not an Epic, either. Sort of. I...um...cute kitten.”

 

Sparks. That could have gone better.

 

With a shower of color descending around her Shiny Sparkle teleported next to Funtimes’ boyfriend and gave him a clap on the back. “There are a lot of people running around with awesome names, aren’t there? You got a pretty nice calico there too. Have you seen a bengal by any chance?” Shiny Sparkle looked around and found one standing a bit away. She teleported next to it and started petting it.

 

“Autumn and I meet during a mutant panda invasion. What’s your story?” The cat cuddled her hand and gave a soft purr.

 

Newcago,” Funtimes said, throwing her arms around Nathan’s shoulders. Nathan was too relieved she hadn’t been angered to add anything. “We met in Newcago and then we came here and there’s kitties!” She drew back with a long gasp, covering her mouth with both hands. “We’re the only ones here who know about all the cute kitties! We should tell everyone and give kitties to all the little children!”

 

Nathan envisioned traipsing through the streets, passing out kittens from a basket, trailed by Epics who would rather kill kittens than cuddle them. “Mutant pandas, huh? That sounds….interesting.”

 

Funtimes was undeterred. “Kitties! We should help other people see the kitties!” She bounced up and down. “Let’s do it do it do it now!”

 

Shiny Sparkle hugged the bengal cat to her chest, “I kinda brought Autumn here to pick up a cat. Raise the stakes in the relationship a bit, you know. Maybe we could do go around afterwards.”

 

Funtimes looked briefly disappointed, but then she clapped her hands again, found the fluffy grey kitten from before, and presented him to Shiny Sparkle. “This is Sparticus Fluffius III.”

 

“Sparticus Fluffius III is an adorable little kitten.” Shiny Sparkle held up her bengal to Autumn, “How about we call him Liam?”

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Does anyone remember the Coffee shop scene? Cause this is how we all wish it went:

 

 

“A Hot Chocolate please. With Whipped Cream. But make sure it’s not actually hot, let it cool down first.” Last Time Murphy had tried to drink a Hot Drink, his power had caused it to spill on someone’s computer, presumably to prevent him from burning his Mouth.

 

“Alright, will that be Large, Medium or Small?” The woman behind the counter asked, writing down his order on a notepad.

 

“Uh, I’ll have a Medium.” He didn't carry much Cash, and CorpseMaker had tipped, so he should to, probably. He was rather surprised that CorpseMaker had tipped anyway.

 

She smiled and clicked a button on the Register. “That’ll be 2 Dollars, and 25 Cents.” She ripped the Receipt off the machine, and exchanged it for his Money. He gave her an Extra dollar as a tip, then leaned back against the Window as she worked. He found himself contemplating his Boss again. CorpseMaker had ordered a Deathwish Coffee, supposedly lethal if you didn't have a Resistance. The Man laughed at death, but smiled at the Coffee-Shop Woman. He could radiate malevolence, but easily switched it to likability whenever needed. It was amazing.

 

CorpseMaker was looking through the plans for tomorrow, writing a something here and there, crossing something out. He frowned as he worked, his eyebrows bunching up in between his eyes. He really believed that he should rule Portland.

 

“Here you go, It’s still warm, but you won’t need a sleeve.” The Woman slid the Cup across the Counter, before turning away to talk to the next Customer, a Short man with Large glasses, whose eyes kept looking new ways.

 

Murphy grabbed his drink, and walked across the room to the booth that CorpseMaker was sitting in. He slid across the bench, to where he could rest an arm on the window pane. “So what did you mean by let loose? You let loose by drinking lethal Coffee?”

 

CorpseMaker put his pen down and looked up, regarding Murphy. “Yeah, It's always nice to sit back, drink and just talk. Plus this Coffee is to die for.” He took a Sip of his drink, before returning to his Work. “It actually can kill a man if they drink two cups. But lesser Coffee doesn't even affect me anymore.”

 

Murphy nodded. “Alright, that makes Sense. So, you wanna hear my the Idea I had?”

 

CorpseMaker looked up at him and nodded. "Sure."

 

“Collaborate. He’s an Epic who grows in Strength the more people there are with him. He's always working for someone, since he needs others to power him. He'd be the perfect addition."

 

CorpseMaker thought about it for a moment, then smiled, "That'd be a great idea! I'll be sure to send him an Envoy. Any other great ideas rolling around in that perfect head of yours?"

 

Murphy actually blushed at that. "Uh, no, just the one. Thanks, anything else I can do to help tomorrow?"

 

"Mind standing by me in the opening salvo? We have to win this war, and save Portland form the Empire." He looked across at Murphy expectantly. 

 

"Sure thing boss! I'd love to stand with you."

 

"Please, just call me Cormac, at least while there's no one else around."

 

Murphy felt himself blushing again. Sparks, he'd never done that this much before.

 

"Sure thing, Cormac." CorpseM, ​No, Cormac's smile was beautiful. Full of confidence and genuine happiness. He took another drink of his Cocoa to hide his blushing, and then asked "So how often do you do this?"

 

"About twice a week. Maybe more. Want to keep coming along. It could be fun."

 

"I'd love to."

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I’m not really supposed to enjoy the duty.

 

Nighthound whirled around and found himself face to face with a skeleton, wearing a black robe and sharpening a scythe. “And who are you supposed to be?”

 

I am the Ultimate Reality or simply Death. Sadly, we are already too familiar with each other.

The talking skeleton, not really talking Nighthound just heard an unnatural bass in his head, pulled out a black hourglass, on its top was something formed like a wolf head chained to the hourglass. The sand inside it had almost completely ran out.

Soon.

“What are here to thank me for keeping up your business?”

I cannot think of anyone that would appreciate a larger workload.

 

Death’s eyes gave off an icy glow and the last sand corn passed through the hourglass. His scythe descended upon the Epic and then Nighthound died.

                                                               

 

Big Al lifted his hands from Voidgaze’s eyes and she could see the picnic he set up for her. Voidgaze turned around and hugged Al. “Happy Valentine’s day, Rita.”

“Al, take a look up.”

 

Both of them looked up. Voidgaze made some of the clouds disappear, so that the remaining ones spelled I love you Big Al surrounded by a heart.

 

“I love you to Rita.”

The two lovers shared a kiss and then had a lovely waffle time.

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f1cb4386-7e8a-4acf-9427-afae3027d626_zps



Arsenal had sent Emma on a boring recon mission to Portland. She didn't know of anything important about Portland. It had some factions and they were warring for territory, but that happened in almost every large city these days. Emma thought that Arsenal had really just wanted her out of his hair, or rather, eyebrows, for a while. The big Arse could really live up to his name sometimes.

Emma wasn't even supposed to use her powers unless necessary so that she could stay unnoticed in town. She'd likely be recruited by the different factions if they saw her flying around. She still didn't understand how others thought flying was fun. Sure, there was a thrill to it, but it felt more like falling sideways or falling up than anything else. It was disorienting. Not every flying Epic had powers like her, though. She'd never heard of another one who manipulated their own gravity. The others all had real flying powers. Emma had always wished she could fly, ever since she had wished to be a fairy as a child. Now, she fell through the sky in a bit of a twisted joke from Calamity.

Emma ventured towards the northern part of the city, where an intelligent illusionist reigned. She heard that while he was harsh, he was the most benevolent Epic around. If a Portlander could get into Thoughttown, they'd have everything they needed as long as they worked. Not everywhere was like that these days.

Emma walked through town, wishing she could fly and get there faster, and she saw the walls of Thoughttown approaching. Flying above them, she saw a man in a black uniform similar to the guards, only his had a blue cape attached. His dark brown hair spiked up, matching his chocolate brown eyes and dark tanned skin. She noticed herself smiling and laughed at herself. Mooning over a Thoughttown Epic? She didn't even live here. But, sparks, he was cute. And he had real flying powers.

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Flashpoint was making his rounds over the walls of Thoughttown when he looked outside of them to see a girl with long, curly dark hair looking up at him. His flight faltered for a bit at the shock of the sight. He smiled at her as he regained his composure. She laughed a bit and he hoped she wasn't laughing at his brief fall in the sky. She had no costume, nothing that differentiated her from a normal human, but something about her smile made him feel epically happy. Even if she wasn't an Epic, Flashpoint wanted to see her again. He continued making his rounds, but he couldn't get his mind off of the short brunette. Her curls had tumbled over her shoulders perfectly and her teeth had shone like stars.

After he finished reporting to Altermind, he flew out of Thoughttown determined to find the girl. He flew over the city, scanning the people below for the dark blue sweatshirt and perfect brown hair. He found her finally, just as she began sliding down an alley. She had to be an Epic then. He grinned and did a little loop in the air before landing behind her. He cleared his throat, but before he could utter a word, the girl had spun and whipped out a knife from her sweatshirt pocket and had stopped him from moving somehow.

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Emma had kept thinking about the flying Epic all day as she explored Portland. Finally fed up with not using her powers, she made sure no one was following her and then, decreasing her friction, slid into an alley. A noise alerted her to a presence behind her. She spun and whipped out the knife from her sweatshirt pocket. She increased the friction of his clothes, stopping him in place. Something like that wouldn't prevent him from moving entirely, but it would hamper the person.

As Edgerunner took a better look at the person, she realized it was the Epic from Thoughttown. "I'm so sorry, I didn't know who it was, I'm sorry," she stuttered out embarrassedly as she reverted his clothes' friction back to normal.

The Epic cleared his throat again and, with his face flushed, stammered out some sounds. "Sorry, what?" Emma asked.

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Flashpoint cursed at himself. Sparks, sparks, sparking Calamity! He finally meets the girl of his dreams and he gets caught by her and then only managed to stutter. How stupid! He really was an imbecile. "I-It's okay. I'm okay," he managed to get out. He looked down, out of her beautiful brown eyes, and brushed imaginary dust off his uniform. He felt the blood pulsing in his face.

The girl stepped up to him and began chatting, "I'm so sorry. Did I get you dirty?" She brushed at his chest, trying to help, and Flashpoint felt his heart skip a beat. Chills scampered down his spine.

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Emma felt like an idiot in front of this cute Epic. He brushed at his uniform, his wonderful uniform, and she immediately felt guilty for dirtying it. She stepped up, embarrassedly jabbering apologies as she wiped at his clothes. His hands stopped for a second as she touched his chest. "I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to touch you, I just wanted to help." She stepped back a step.

"It's o-okay, go ahead," he said smoothly, reaching for her hand and gently bringing it back to his chest.

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Now he'd done it. Flashpoint felt so stupid. He'd frozen and she thought he was an arrogant Epic like Altermind. He managed to awkwardly tell her that it was okay. Hand shaking, he reached for his, unsure where the courage was coming from. This was much harder than the battle against toy soldiers had been. She probably thought he was a bumbling fool as he grabbed her hand and brought it back to his chest awkwardly. "I'm Flashpoint. Lieutenant of Thoughttown," he tried to say proudly, but it sounded more boastful. Now she'll think I'm even more arrogant.

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Emma smiled as he brought her trembling hand back to his strong chest. She wiped futilely at it a couple times and then he introduced himself. Flashpoint. A lieutenant. He was more important than she had thought. She smiled up at him and introduced herself. "Edgerunner from the Dalles, assassin, but you can call me Emma," she said softly.

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An assassin? Wow. She was powerful then. Flashpoint might be a soldier, but she was an assassin. And she wanted him to call her by her human name. Not many Epics did that. She was confident. "I'm Frank." It felt strange to tell someone his original name. He hadn't had someone call him Frank since he'd been granted powers. He had thought it made him weak, but now, he thought it made her strong. "Would you like to have dinner with me?" He asked boldly. He figured he could ask Altermind for a night off. It was only one night.

5

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Wasted Nighthound, Timeport, and Lightwards with Electro as a middleman. With a Koschei/Moibus rommance sideplot.

--

Axes. Giant axes were good. Dead and undead vanillas were good too. Nighthound lazily prowled through the streets of Portland, Lightwards and Timeport on either side of him.

"Well, well." Nighthound laughed as he peeked into the doorway of a vanilla's house. A vanilla stare at him like a deer caught in headlights. Surprised, no doubt, by Lightward's legion of zombies. It had been rather a leap of genius when Electro had suggested the three of them hang out. He wasn't sure where getting drunk had fit into the equation. He also wasn't sure why his healing hadn't fixed it but.... Dead vanillas are dead vanillas. Nighthound smirked. "Your turn?" He gestured to Timeport, who disappeared. Then appeared again, inside the vanilla. Nighthound laughed at the surprised expression on the vanilla's face.

"Take it away." Timeport gestured to Lightwards, who raised the vanilla and sent it to the back of the army. "Why do we need an army, again?"

"Cause we can." Lightwards said.

"Hello." A fourth voice said. Nighthound turned around, wondering who it could be. Lightwards seemed to have a panic attack as he saw the woman and the blond man standing beside her.

"Who are you?" Timeport asked, smoothly.

"My name is Moibus. Me and my boy friend Koschei were just looking for some fun. And look. It turns out I found one of my worst enemies in the same city as one of his worst enemies. So. Are you ready to have some fun?" That last bit was at Lightwards.

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Something happened.
And then Nighthound died.

12

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31e3fa11-5713-467a-9d60-ce8b558f39ff_zps

 

Funtimes was giggling out of control. She was holding a pair of (pink) binoculars to her eyes and was hiding in the corner of the (pink) bathroom. Nighthound was in the (pink) shower. Nathan was sitting uncomfortably next to her and Sam was on her other side. 

 

Nathan was almost happy when Funtimes had explained her plan earlier. Then she had told her that she intended to bring him along to watch. 

 

"You ready?" Funtimes said through her giggles. Nathan wanted to say "No, actually. I'm not ready." But the Traveler wouldn't be afraid. 

"Yes." Nathan replied, his fists clenched. Relax. He told himself.

 

"Good!" She clapped her hands together and then there was a yell. Black smoke curled around the top of the shower. A hand grabbed a towel and then Nighthound stormed out of the shower. Green acid poured around him, burning at his skin while it healed. 

"Funtimes!" He roared. 

"Hehehe!" Funtimes laughed. "April Fools!" Nathan wasn't sure what that was. Sam was laughing. Laughing. And Nathan was the one who was pretending to be an Epic. Nathan started laughing too. It seemed fake and forced. 

"Now, Traveler." Funtimes said through a giggle. He grabbed Sam and Funtime's hands. Funtime's leg was brushing up against Sam and then they disappeared. "That. Was awesome!" 

4

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7354dc7e-7d51-4fe5-8f41-281902ff32d6_zps

 

Autumn Glass, who was not an Epic, watched the Epic curl up on her couch. 

 

She didn't usually have a couch in her office. Most of her clients—those clients being Edgerunner and Scribbler—were fine with the cushioned chair across from her desk. So when Deathwish radioed her saying he needed to talk, she'd expected to have him sit in that same chair—perhaps handcuffed to it, by order of the City Guardsman who had forced him to make the call. 

 

But no. He'd walked into her office, pushing an old sofa in front of him. Bewildered, she'd helped him wrangle it through the door, only to have her confusion deepen when he flopped down on the cushions and began to cry. 

 

"Do….do you want to talk about it?" 

 

He'd nodded. 

 

She had expected another rant about Scribbler. "Who cares if she's only fifteen? She's hot! IT'S SO UNFAAAAAAAIIIIIRRRRR!" 

 

She had expected wrong. 

 

"And then," Deathwish sobbed, drawing in a ragged breath. He had a throw pillow clutched to his chest like a teddy bear. "And then, the gang leader kicked me out. Not that I blame him, sleeping with his daughter and all." He paused, meeting her gaze with puffy, bloodshot eyes. "Me. I was the one sleeping with his daughter." 

 

"I gathered that." 

 

Deathwish shoved the pillow against his face, another sob taking him with full force. "I'm such an awful human being!" 

 

Autumn could only blink. She wasn't quite sure what to say. The only thing she could think to say to that was hearty agreement, but that seemed inappropriate. Almost as inappropriate as the things he'd done. 

 

His past was like a tabloid magazine, one of those really trashy ones her mother had always kept her from reading in line at the supermarket. Affairs, trysts, backstabbing, murder….it was as though Deathwish had used one of those trashy magazines as a how-to guide for his life before something set him straight. 

 

She cleared her throat. "So. Deathwish." 

 

"Edgar.

 

"Edgar. That's your new name?" 

 

"Real name." 

 

"O…​kay….Edgar….what brought all this on? All of this introspection." 

 

He sniffed. "I…I dunno. I grabbed a Coke, and I drank it, and then I started thinking about….about that time…when I was fifteen….and I hit on my teacher…." Up went the pillow as he resumed his sobbing. 

 

"You…hit on your teacher?" 

 

"She wasn't even that hot! I just did it 'cause I could!" 

 

"Oh." 

 

He was still sobbing when her radio crackled. "Arsenal to Glass. Where's my storming sofa?

 

Autumn blinked. "It's, um, right here, sir." 

 

"Well, give it back!

 

"You, um, you'll need to ask Deathwish." 

 

"EDGAR!" 

 

"He's sort of using it right now."

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What Is And What Should Never Be: (Part One)
 

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The vanilla, Autumn was speaking. "I don't know who you are, but I do know that you're not doing anyone any favors. You think we want to see Reader wandering town with no pants on?" Want to see it? No. Want Reader to experience some small part of the pain and humiliation he’s dished out? Sparks yes.
 
 
"Fix them, or find him a new pair. And if he doesn't have pants, or shorts, or even a skirt by the time I get back, I will personally ensure you never set foot in this town again." That goes too far, lady. What do you think you can do?
 
A slow grin was spreading across Reader’s face, even as he struggled to hold up his pants. That smug little slontze. Why don’t I just reduce him to ash from the waist down? You don’t need pants if you don’t have legs. Calamity, why not do it for the lot of them?
 
For a single frozen instant, Ethan stood. Doing nothing, saying nothing. His face was blank, impassive. Anger seethed underneath that veneer. He’d tried very hard to keep it down. He’d given it his all, ignoring what slights he could, and restraining himself from getting too violent when he couldn’t. Sparks, he even confronted Reader verbally, instead of ending the little misanthropic dirtbag’s miserable existence.
 
Frostfire was done. The Dalles didn’t seem like a bad place, but there was only so much crap he could take.
 
Four steps, ten seconds. Assuming that any Epic powerful enough to take him down would have destroyed the building by now, that’s all it would take. A dozen heartbeats and everyone in the room would be dead.
 
One. The linoleum under his feet crackled with a thin layer of frost as it plunged down to arctic temperatures. The sound was fortunately quiet, lost within the general confusion.
 
Two. The air warped just slightly around Frostfire’s hands, hinting at the heat he was holding, and would soon let loose. Inky darkness began to spread across his body, starting at the frost-covered floor.
 
Three. Little threads of energy flashed out; near imperceptible to the naked eye, transferring just enough heat to jam the firing mechanism of every gun in sight. Reader glanced in his direction, smile only just starting to falter.
 
Four. Frostfire gathered a portion of the heat he held, preparing to turn Reader’s very bones to ash. No. That’s too good for him. That slontze needs to suffer.
 
Five. He turned back towards Autumn. No one stops me from doing anything. Clicking his fingers, he shoved just a few dozen degrees into her body. The woman collapsed, hemorrhaging from her eyes and nose as her blood literally started to boil.
 
Six. Shock flitted over the face of the Epic who had stood beside Autumn. It didn’t last long, her expression easing as she received the same treatment. The first quick-thinking soldiers raised their guns, only to find them useless. He left the soldiers for now; they weren’t a threat to him.
 
Seven. The more powerful Epics in the room came next, one after another falling, blood pooling over the linoleum. A few tried to run, but most had no idea what hit them.
 
Eight. Most of the room had emptied. Shouts and screams were just starting to begin. Some of the vanillas had started towards the door. With a thought, he dumped all his remaining heat into the metal handle, welding the door shut. The fastest of them cried out in pain as he touched the blistering hot metal.
 
Nine. Shivering under his trench coat, Frostfire stepped forwards, condensation from the rapidly cooled air freezing on his skin, the concrete base of the building cracking as it suddenly dropped well below negative thirty degrees Celsius. He casually picked off a few of the soldiers that had been reaching for their radios. We can’t have that now.
 
Ten. Only two soldiers were left standing. One he dispatched easily, blood leaking from his ears as he fell to the ground. He turned towards the other, who managed to raise a sidearm Frostfire had missed. He pulled the trigger, no word of warning, no hesitation. Well trained, Frostfire noted in the split second before the bullet struck.
 
Eleven. Raising an eyebrow, Frostfire observed the guard’s instant confusion and fear. After a moment, pulled the trigger again, emptying the whole clip into Frostfire’s chest. The bullets slowly fell to the floor as a feral grin spread across his face. “You appear to be out of ammunition. That makes it my turn, does it not?” Clicking his fingers, a loud crack emanated throughout the now near-silent clinic. The soldier’s head snapped around, tilting at an unnatural angle, every vertebra in his neck pulverized.
 
A vague flicker of disappointment registered. One second slow. Frostfire looked around, searching for his original target. Reader was huddled in a corner, whimpering. Hah. Coward. Slowly walking towards the Epic, Frostfire spoke softly. “I see you’ve finally learned your place.”
 
He crouched down, grasping Reader’s chin, forcing the man to look him in the eyes. “I am a god, and I plan to have some fun with you before I kill you.”
 
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
 
Exiting the melted doors of the clinic, a faint smile was still on Frostfire’s face. Reader’s screams still echoed in his ears.
 
He took a moment to watch the sun set over his new home. The Dalles hadn’t been what he expected, but that was alright. He would change it, remake it as he saw fit, until it was better. Until it was perfect.
 
It was his duty, and nothing was going to stop him.

Edited by Aonar Faileas
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Ozymandias strode into the cavernous warehouse, barely even listening to the old fart wheezing out obsequious fawnings beside him. A single light gleamed in the far side of the warehouse.

"You see, sir, we have everything you asked for. One of those Pandas, who by the way killed one of my men while we were hunting him, and a good man he was--" Ozy tuned the man's voice out as they neared the solitary lamp. A table was set up near the light, with a Panda strapped down on top of it. Ozy's breath began to quicken as he stepped up to the table. Finally. I've been waiting for this for a long time.

Ozy cracked his knuckles, the man still talking, the Panda groaning incoherently. "Shut up," said Ozy, "I didn't ask you for very much, so just shut up. You will recieve payment. Now leave."

"But, but, you promised payment now," said the geezer. Ozy Blurred into a twist, ending up with his hands pressed against both sides of the man's face. "I have altered the deal," Ozy said sweetly, a hint of a smile showing behind his shadowed face. "Now leave, and you will not be hurt, I swear." The old man, grimacing slightly, nodded as best he could. He tottered toward the door.

Ozy, cracking his knuckles again, stepped toward the Panda, at once gleeful and filled with grief. He spread his hands and began to work. Decaying the Panda's hair meticulously, he worked into the night, never stopping for a break. His actions became like those of a robot, only the swirling thoughts in his mind belying his state as a human. The perverse ritual continued, Ozy occasionally re-anesthetizing the Panda. I'm sorry, Kiara. He began to work more slowly. I should have been able to stop them. Ozy began to shake with repressed grief. I CAN'T DO IT ALL! WHY, GOD? WHY DO I HAVE TO BE THE ONE TO CARRY ALL THIS ON MY SHOULDERS? The tears poured freely over the Panda's completely naked body as Ozy wept openly. He sank to the ground and gasped for air, events long ago becoming fresh in his memory. Kiara, I couldn't save you then, but I can get revenge. The Panda will feel my suffering. I love you, Kiara.

Ozymandias woke up to find the pink Panda vainly struggling to break free. He chuckled warmly. Ozy reached for the pencil and paper on a small table to his right and wrote a simple note.

Dear Panda,

It's not about the death, it's about the message that the death sends.

Love, Ozymandias

Ozymandias picked up a dagger also laying on the table. He placed the top of the sheet of paper on the Panda's neck, aimed, and drove the knife through the Panda's neck. The Panda shook in his death throes as blood spilled out of the wound. Ozy put his face close to the Panda and whispered, "I'm sorry it was you. I merely had to send a message to your big boss, and this happened to be the most fun way to do it. You have my most humble apologies." Ozy straightened, turned, and staggered toward the distant doorway, stumbling on cramped legs.

Edited by Kipper
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The adventures of redeemed!Deathwish continue….

 

The knock at Scribbler's door was sharp, but not insistent, and she opened it to the last person she expected—or wanted—to see. 

 

She had long since given up on threatening him with bodily harm—he always laughed that off. The City Guard, armed with sirens, were a much more credible threat. But something about the way he stood there, eyes downcast and a shapeless black hat clutched between his hands, gave her pause. 

 

Not that it made her happy to see him. 

 

"You have thirty seconds to explain what the hell you're doing here on my morning off before my parents call the City Guard." 

 

"I came to apologize." 

 

Scribbler studied him. No smirk, no malevolent twinkle in his eye. Those things ought to have accompanied his words, but they were absent. "For…." 

 

"For hitting on you. And putting my hand down your shirt. And saying that if you were old enough to work for the Guard, you were old enough to…you know." 

 

Her eyes narrowed. He hadn't broken into laughter yet, and if she wasn't mistaken….

 

Dear Calamity, was he crying

 

"What's with the hat?" 

 

"I, uh….Autumn told me I needed it." 

 

"Autumn told you that." 

 

"Well, she said I should come to you, hat in hand, and tell you everything, so…I got the hat." 

 

"You know that's just an expression." 

 

"I didn't know how to make you see what I do!" He really was crying, and not those crocodile tears he used whenever she turned him down. Big tears were rolling down his cheeks, and he wiped them away with the back of his hand. "I see everything, Scribbles—do you mind if I call you Scribbles?" 

 

"Yes." 

 

He drew a shaking breath. "Fine. Scribbler, then. I—I don't know what happened, but I see now. It's like for the first time ever, I'm seeing everything I did the way everyone else saw it, and it sucks. Everything I did sucked. I…I…I suck." Those last words were a whisper that hailed more tears. 

 

Scribbler watched him through narrowed eyes. He certainly seemed sincere, but this was Deathwish. He was cavalier about murder and serious about getting away with it. She didn't want to believe him. She wanted to believe that the man before her was lying as he sobbed and kneaded the hat into something unrecognizable so she could go on hating him. 

 

She needed a test. 

 

"I want that apology in writing." 

 

Deathwish perked up at that, nodded and turned puffy eyes on her. "Yeah. Sure. Bring me a pen—" 

 

"Not in pen. Use this instead." 

 

He accepted the pink paint with a nod. "Great. You got paper?" 

 

"Not on paper. And not here." 

 

"But…you said…." 

 

"I said I wanted it in writing. I didn't say where." 

 

"Okay…where then?" 

 

-----------------------------------------------

 

Arsenal slammed his radio onto the end table and raced to deal with the floating pair of feet outside his window. He knew those feet, and he knew their owner. 

 

"DEATHWISH!" He didn't need to shout, but he did anyway. "WHAT THE STORMS ARE YOU DOING TO MY HOUSE?"

 

"Apologizing." 

 

"THIS IS NOT AN APOLOGY! AN APOLOGY—" 

 

"Scribbler said it was." A few drops of bright pink paint splattered on the ground. 

 

"YOU OWE ME AN APOLOGY FOR DESECRATING MY HOUSE!" 

 

"I told you, I'm not desecrating. I'm apologizing." 

 

"THIS IS DESECRATION OF THE WORST—"

 

"Will you just read it?" 

 

Arsenal stepped off his porch and stormed toward the sidewalk. The walk allowed him to contemplate whether or not a nuke was too good a death for this scum, this miscreant, this vicious, vile hoodlum

 

—who had scrawled "DEATHWISH IS SORRY FOR TREATING SCRIBBLER LIKE…" 

 

"DEATHWISH! YOU WILL COME DOWN FROM THERE AND SUBMIT YOURSELF TO MY JUDGEMENT IMMEDIATELY FOR SCRAWLING SUCH AN IMMORAL WORD ON MY PERSONAL PROPERTY!"

 

"I'm just doing what she told me to do." 

 

Arsenal fumbled for his radio, swore, and conjured a new one. "COMMANDER!" His voice cracked in a way it hadn't since he was fourteen. "CAN YOU SEE WHAT DEATHWISH IS DOING TO MY PROPERTY?" 

 

"Sure can, Daniel." His tone lacked the urgency it should have carried. "And I have to say, it's about time he wrote that." 

 

"ON MY HOUSE?" 

 

"I don't think it matters where." He cut off Arsenal's objection with a chuckle. "Honestly, Daniel, it's just paint." 

 

"PINK PAINT!" 

 

"I'll get you some brown to cover it up." 

 

"BUT—" 

 

"Over and out." 

Edited by TwiLyghtSansSparkles
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558e85187ce4f6ff3388eaeb81bc0129.gif

 

For the millionth time that school year, Mr. Vondra wished he'd never become a kindergarten teacher.

 

"Now, class," he said, trying and failing to get their attention. "What is the answer to this question?" He pointed his ruler at the whiteboard, where 2+2=? was written in black marker. 

 

No one paid attention. Freq was busy whistling in Edgar's ear, who kept trying to swat the little boy away. While he wasn't being annoyed, however, Edgar was poking Scribbles in the side, shouting "Gotcha!" whenever she squirmed. Finally fed up, Scribbles raised her hand. 

 

"Yes, Scribbles, can you answer the question?" Mr. Vondra invited her up to the whiteboard and handed her the marker. "Two plus two is...?" Scribbler held out the marker and started to write underneath the problem, but not the answer. Instead, she started to draw a fish out of a circle and a triangle, then make fish faces at the class. The entire class started to laugh, except for Daniel, whose frown deepened even more than usual. 

 

Mr. Vondra shook his head and grabbed the marker from Scribbles. "No, Scribbles, no drawing. How many times do I have to tell you that? What's the answer to the quest--" The recess bell cut him off. Mr. Vondra sighed--recess was always the worst. 

 

"I CALL THE SWINGSET!" Koschei screamed as he ran out the door. 

 

"YEAH THE SWINGSET'S OURS!" Reader called, following after Koshcei like a lost hound. 

 

Mr. Vondra sighed and left to watch the kids outside. Just in time, too, as Emma and Scribbles were working together to try to get wood chips down Daniel's shirt. Mr. Vondra stepped over to stop them...

 

...and grinned slightly when he saw the look on Daniel's face. It's just innocent fun, right? he thought, stepping back to his corner where he watched the children. Besides, Daniel could use a little loosening up. 

 

(To be continued....)

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Here we go! First of a 10 part series about What happened in Springfield.

Bullets. Gatling burst through the empty doorway into an abandoned house, clutching a machine gun, breathing heavily. The machine gun was at full ammo. Well, of course it was, Gatling. Have you forgotten your Epic power? Gatling shook his head, banishing out the thoughts that tried to invade his brain. He held his finger to his earpiece and spoke.

“This is Gatling. I am at 101 North St. I request immediate backup. Multiple insurgents closing in on me. I repeat does anyone copy?” Thankfully, a voice came replied.

“Gatling. This is Target. I am at your location. Over.” Gatling started to reply, but Target burst in the doorway, holding his bow. He was a mess. His armor was chipped and cracked, and he was missing his helmet. He was almost out of arrows, and his knives were gone. A series of shots sprayed at the side of the house. Target cursed. Gatling raised his gun.

“Where are the dang reinforcements, Target?” Gatling forcefully whispered. He raised his gun firing at a man with an assault rifle. The man fell. “I don’t know, Gatling. My squad should be here now.” Target retorted. He drew, aimed and fired an arrow. Suddenly, a series of shot’s rang in the air. All went quiet. Target, then Gatling, stepped out of the abandoned house. A group of soldiers, maybe 6 or 7 of them, walked out. Gatling relaxed.

“Where were you, Beta Squad?” Target admonished. “You should have followed me.”

“Sorry, sir.” Said a big man, holding a RPG with a tight grip. “We was fighting off the 4 guys that had our backs, we was.” The man bobbed his head. Gatling yawned. It had been a long day and he was ready for some sleep.

“He did what?” Powerhouse asked, furious. “You are telling me that a rogue Epic attacked Harvester’s and my soldiers?” The aide giving him the report, nodded then cowered on the ground. “Super speed, fast enough to dodge bullets, leaves a blue trail in the air behind him.” Powerhouse mused. “Yes, my lord.” Powerhouse snarled, killing the aide with a ball of electricity. Her corpse fell, smoking. This Epic could ruin everything. Ruin his chance of winning the war.

Enjoy! If you want to contribute, PM me.

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Part 1 of ? for the Quadra-Kong story line.

 

“You are a storming Slontze and this is entirely your fault!” screamed Deathwish from the top of his lungs, anger sounding clear in his voice as he blamed someone for a situation he mostly caused himself.

 

“I’m sorry but I told you that we really shouldn’t be doing this,” said a much more agreeable voice belonging to Deathwish, a redeemed version of him that is, which your most generous narrator will from now on refer to as Edgar Hawk to better keep them apart.

 

Unless of course I want to confuse you, in that case he will simply be called Deathwish, not sleazebag or Edgar Hawt. Apologies in advance but confusing the readers is simply one of us out of canon narrators three major passions, together with making chifnanbast (don’t ask it’s a trade-secret) and talking about how Nighthound died.

 

Talking about Nighthound dying.

 

“I agree you’re a Slontz Deathwish,” said Nighthound, who meant both of them, “Why the hell did you get a magical monkey!?” (Hint: He’s an idiot.)

 

“Because, if it can- ouch! Be careful with my rips you sparking monkey!” Pain tinged in Deathwish’s voice after the Quadra-Kong tightened its grip around him, carful not to actually break anything that might spill his blood.

 

To finally explain the current situation (where you confused enough up to this point? Good, imagine me twirling my mustache as I grin diabolically.) Deathwish planned to score himself a date by impressing a lady after saving her from being kidnapped by a gigantic monkey climbing up a very big building, he may have watched an old rendition of King Kong, not that he admitted the inspiration for his and I quote “brilliant masterplan.”

 

He asked Nighthound for help so he could control the ape and make it look a bit more intimidating and his alternate continuity date was drafted, so he could make a good impression when saving the ladies and later switch back with Deathwish.

 

Apart from the gaping hole in form of Deathwish having to interact with the ladies that were expecting Edgar Hawt there was one more flaw. Deathwish couldn’t decide which Dalles bachelorettes he wanted to make an impression on, so he assumed that more is better and instead of organizing your run of the mill giant monkey you get himself the Quadra-Kong.

 

Besides its uncanny ability to play pianos and make tsabnanfis at the same time (let me be honest you don’t know how impressive that is unless you ever lived as a metaphorical entity only existing within fictional texts) the Quadra-Kong has two characteristics important for this situation.

 

Most apparent are its name giving four arms, which made Deathwish choose him in hope that he would grab three females for him to score. Then there’s also the fact that it was born from karmic justice, making it a magical entity, which often gets described as having a fur thicker than plot, and as such is immune to magical forms of control like the one Nighthound uses.

 

As such it was free to follow its natural instinct and instead of picking up attractive women it picked up the nearest members of the and then they died list. Sadly the narrators deployed for supernatural Kongs are about as sophisticated as a cellphones autocorrect, meaning he couldn’t tell the difference between Deathwish and Edgar Hawk.

 

Which brings us to the current situation of all three of them being help in the fists of the Quadra-Kong , which climbed up the large diamond structure grown by Lucentia under great complaining, as her brother urged her to do so.

“How about we let it eat one of you two, assuming it isn´t immune to that damage transfer of yours that should do it in?” proposed Nighthound.

 

Before Deathwish could throw an insult back at him or heroically sacrifice himself, depending on which continuity you are asking, a helicopter flied up them. The headlights blinding them and drowning out everything except the silhouette of whoever was leaning out of its side.

 

Ah, finally something is happening in the present timeline. Wait let me quick get something to eat. Yes, that means this is a cliff-hanger. The unexpected fourth narrator passion.

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Deathwish isn't the only Epic who gets to face his fears outside of canon….

 

 

The avocado was laughing at him. 

 

It wasn't actually laughing. It didn't even seem to be. Arsenal knew he wasn't nearly at the point of hunger-induced hallucinations. But that stupid green monstrosity taunted him all the same. 

 

Vondra, of course, was behind this. He knew what he was doing from the moment Arsenal seized control of the city to the moment he tossed him into this wretched cell, and he did it while brandishing an avocado the entire time. 

 

He'd armed every vanilla soldier in town with those things. 

 

The one thing, the one thing that could bring him down, and he'd used it. 

 

"We had a deal!" Arsenal wanted to shout that while pounding at the Plexiglas, but the avocados formed a ring around him, like something from a hideous Satanic ritual, and he couldn't step outside of it. Not without remembering….

 

Arsenal shuddered, curling into a ball. He wouldn't remember. He didn't want to remember. 

 

Avocados. 

 

Laughter. 

 

That horrible, horrible whale costume. 

 

His stomach rumbled, bringing him to the present and rescuing him from the brink of tears. He glared at the ceiling. He didn't know if Vondra had finally added cameras to this place, but he wouldn't be caught in a moment of weakness. 

 

Even with his weakness surrounding him. 

 

No, he was stronger than this. Better than this. How could he let some slimy half-fruit half-vegetable Frankenfood stand in his way? 

 

Because they're horrifying?

 

Letting loose a small growl, Arsenal seized an avocado from the floor and—never breaking eye contact with the camera that may or may not have been there—he raised a bitten-off fingernail to the skin. 

 

Michael Buble playing over the school loudspeakers. 

 

He ran a trembling thumb down the length of the fruit. 

 

That whale costume, avocados as its crown. 

 

He tore the skin free. 

 

He couldn't do this. 

 

He shoved the avocado into his mouth. 

 

It tasted as he knew it would—too mild, too nutty, too slimy. Like eating shame. He cringed, chewing, swallowing, the taste, the awful taste, bringing even more awful memories. 

 

And something else. 

 

For the first time since that impossible star chose him, Arsenal felt his mind clear. Like clouds rolling back with the wind, allowing sunlight through. 

 

"What the hell?" he asked around his second bite. "Why was I being so evil?" 

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In the whole multiverse, there are two reptiles with rich internal lives. What would happen if they met?

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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The raptor made his way through the forest, mind turning. He stepped over branches and stones and the bones of his fellows, almost thinking and almost wondering.

 

What was he doing?

 

He'd never asked a question before his great sleep. Back when the world was fresh and vibrant, he'd known only to hunt and to lead his fellow raptors to success. He'd been... happy that way. Now he was an omega, low in the pack hierarchy with an evil mammal leading him not to success, but to his own repeated deaths.

 

Evil. What was evil?

 

Again, this was another word he'd never considered. There was no evil back when the world was fresh and vibrant. There was only the freedom of running through the dew-dropped trees, letting out a roar in celebration of the world's beauty and the wild goodness of life.

 

Evil, then, was what prevented him from doing that. Evil was a corruption of the natural way of things, a sort of disease that had sneaked into the world while the raptor had been sleeping. 

 

Thinking upon evil and his newfound knowledge of it, the raptor wanted to grieve.

 

 

"What is the Epic?"

 

The raptor froze, senses on high alert as he attempted to pinpoint the source of the noise. He hopped upon a tree stump and glanced around, looking for whatever being could have spoken to him like this. His keen yellow eyes settled on a log, and dilated in surprise.

 

Sitting upon that log was a small crocodilian, like he'd seen before when the world was fresh and vibrant. But this one was small, its jaws closed but obviously devoid of teeth. Its eyes were enormous, wide and purple. The raptor found himself reflected in them; indeed, it was as if the whole of reality were reflected within the alligator's huge, violet eyeballs.

 

"What is the Epic?" the smaller reptile repeated himself. The raptor had never heard words on this level before, but he found himself hanging on the meaning of the gator's words.

 

"The Epic," the crocodilian went on, "is a mammal, ensnared by a star into a dreamlike world of fear. The Epic has no choice. The Epic is as trapped as you are, Wes."

 

The raptor took a step forward in surprise, marveling at the gator's speech. How was it that he heard these words? How was it that they made such sense to him, when by all rights their meaning should soar over his head? Hesitantly, unsure of himself, the raptor reached out with his mind and asked a question of his own.

 

"How do you know these things?" he projected into the void, surprised to hear his own ethereal voice.

 

The alligator, its face still the same, stuck out a forked tongue that licked the surface of its gargantuan staring eyeball. "Because we are the same, Wes. We are both predators of ancient clades, held apart from our baser instincts by the bud of something new inside of us. Were it not for the Epic that holds you in sway, you would satisfy your predatory urges to your heart's content with no thought and no mercy, like you did in the days of old. Were it not for the condition that stole my fangs and left me a toothless alligator, I would have done the same."

 

The alligator's face continued to stare into infinity, its tail swishing back and forth behind him. "We have both been given a chance to see the universe for what it truly is. Filtered not by our predatory instincts, nor by the fickle morals of a mammalian society, but by the true virtue that was put in our hearts at the second the universe came into being. Do you know what I am speaking of, Wes?"

 

Slowly, still processing the strange words, the raptor projected a word of affirmation. "Yes." And then, the question that was haunting at his mind--"What do I do now?"

 

Though its face was ever unmoving, the alligator almost gave out an air of subtle amusement. "That is up to you. You may continue to serve, hoping for a better lot in your next life. You may turn upon that master and kill him, to eradicate the 'evil' you have come to despise."

 

Another slow eye lick commenced, the alligator continuing its monologue regardless. "Or you could do what I have. Accept that in this world, we are all trapped. The raptor. The alligator. The Epic. They are none free of the evil that binds reality together. I found salvation in a pink equine, who took me in as a starving reptile and nurtured me to health. I came to realize that the evil in this universe doesn't truly matter... all that matters is that we decide not to join it."

 

The alligator turned his head slightly, directly turning those magnificent purple eyes in the raptor's direction. There seemed to be a twinkle in them, like the twinkle in the night sky.

 

"Our bodies are trapped by evil. What matters is that we remain free in our spirits, and seek out what kindness and joy still exist in the world."

 

 

The raptor gaped in astonishment, unsure of what to say next. Before he could find the words, the voice of his mammalian master boomed across the forest.

 

"Raptors," the voice shouted in shaking fury. "To me! Gather and drive these invaders from my fortress!"

 

The raptor--Wes--started to follow the command, but froze in his path. He cast a hesitant glance at the crocodilian.

 

The toothless alligator was nowhere to be seen.

 

Slowly, hesitantly, Wes made his decision.

 

"I will not be trapped by evil," he spoke internally. "But nor will I destroy it, for it is as trapped as I am. Perhaps someday it will realize that."

 

He turned his head firmly away from the evil mammal, determinedly marching his clawed feet through the forest.

 

"I am free in my spirit, Lightwards. And I go now not to answer your call, but to find kindness."

 

And he marched.

6

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These chains could not hold him. 

 

Were they actually chains? Yes, of course they were. These pathetic vanillas used—haha—chains, actual—​haha—chains—as if mere ropes—hahaha—couldn't hold him. 

 

Which they wouldn't. Death itself never had him for long. Why would The Dalles be any different? He was Lightwards, Victor over Death and The Dalles. Death of The Dalles. Victor over The Dalles after Death. 

 

"Lightwards?" 

 

The redheaded vanilla's voice cut through his reverie, and it was then he realized he'd been singing again. 

 

It happened sometimes. 

 

"You cannot defeat meeee," he sang, enjoying the sound of his own voice. He had a fine voice. Why was he the only one who liked to hear it? 

 

"I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but you're chained to that wheelchair." 

 

Lightwards laughed. "I'll roll out of here, once I get my—stupid—foot—free—" 

 

"It's braked. And chained to both walls. You're not going anywhere." 

 

"Not without bringing this whole church down on top of you!" 

 

The vanilla took notes on her clipboard until his laughter subsided. 

 

"I can read what you're writing, you know." 

 

She smiled. It was a patronizing smile, the sort he'd use on Funtimes before he sent a bullet through her skull. "My own parents couldn't read my handwriting. I doubt you could." 

 

He laughed again. "Oh, I can read it. You're telling that 'Commander'"—he tried to raise his hands, but the chains kept him from making the air quotes he wanted to make—"how you need more chains for me. Moooorrrre chaiiiiinnnns. Because I'm so dan-ger-ouuuuusssss!" 

 

That song. It was funny, but he was alone in his laughter. 

 

"I think the chains we're using are more than enough. Even I thought it was overkill, but Vondra—" 

 

"—knew you were wrong!" Lightwards giggled, reminding himself of Funtimes. Oh, how he wanted to kill her. Strangle her. Stab her and send her blood spraying across the wall. "He—he knew you were wrong because no chains can hold me!" 

 

"He wanted more chains," Glass explained patiently, "to show you how helpless you are here." 

 

"Oh, but that's just the thing!" Lightwards struggled against the stupid, useless, stronger-than-they-had-any-right-to-be chains. "I'm not helpless. I—I could shoot you—and raise you—and you'd be miiiinnnnneMy Warrior! All mine!" 

 

She scribbled a few more notes. 

 

"Give me a gun—" 

 

"You're not getting a gun." 

 

"You didn't let me finish. Give me a gun—" 

 

"I didn't let you finish because—" 

 

"​—and I'll be the most powerful Epic in the world!" He shouted it. She'd interrupted him, but what he had to say was more important and more ​true so he shouted it so she'd hear. So the whole town would hear. So everyone with ears would hear. "I am the Emperor of Light and I will rule the world!" 

 

That last part came out more sing-song than he'd originally planned, but he liked it better that way. 

 

He wanted this vanilla, this Autumn Glass, to cringe. To cower. To call for her boss, for that joke of an Epic who stood in the corner of the room with his arms folded and his eyes cast into a glare. He wanted her to show fear, fear, sweet pure unadulterated fear, but she didn't give him what he wanted. 

 

"I think I have enough," she said, finishing her scribbles and getting to her feet. 

 

"It's not enough." Lightwards giggled. "It's never enough. Enough is never enough for me." 

 

"No, it is." Glass lifted her radio and spoke, never breaking eye contact. Her insolent brown eyes held his. "Send him back to his cell. What we've got should hold him." 

5

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"No, it is." Glass lifted her radio and spoke, never breaking eye contact. Her insolent brown eyes held his. "Send him back to his cell. What we've got should hold him." 

 

 

 

 

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The redheaded vanilla turned away, striding down the hall and disappearing into the shadows. In her place came new guards, new lives to be bent before the Emperor of Light.

 

A heavyset guard unchained his chair from the wall and began wheeling him down the corridors. He was moving again! The Empire was on wheels, and he was moving once more. This was only the first step before total conquest of the planet!

 

They continued to roll him down the halls and towards his cell, him laughing all the while. One of them finally became fed up enough to snap at him--"Would you just shut up, your majesty? You've got nothing to laugh at."

 

"Oh, but I do," Lightwards whispered softly, "Oh I have so much to laugh at! Because I cannot be contained!"

 

"Yes, you rather can," the guard sighed.

 

Lightwards only giggled in response, eyes flitting down the man's uniform. 

 

"I cannot be contained," he pressed, barely constraining his mirth, "because you're sloppy! You're all so sloppy!"

 

"Now you're sounding like Arsenal," the guard grumbled. They stopped outside his cell, one guard opening the door while the other bent to unshackle the chained emperor.

 

"Don't try anything funny," the guard growled. "You've got no weapons or anywhere to go. You try to escape, we'll put a few rounds in that wacko brain of yours and toss you in the cell anyway."

 

"Oh, I wouldn't dream of it," Lightwards crooned. But the moment his right hand was released, he seized his opportunity. His hand shot out, clutching the guard on the pants leg.

 

The guard immediately stiffened, pulling out his gun and pressing it to the emperor's head. As if a bullet could kill him! Ha!

 

"I'm warning you," the soldier growled, thoroughly annoyed now. "Let go of my pants or you will be terminated."

 

"You ate in uniform," Lightwards giggled quietly. Then louder, in a frenzied laugh that echoed through the entire chamber. "YOU ATE IN UNIFORM!"

 

"For Calamity's sake!" the guard snapped, pressing the gun deeper into THE EMPEROR OF LIGHT'S forehead. He looked awkwardly at the other guard, who was giving him a look of disapproval that suggested eating in uniform was frowned upon in the city. "What are you, my mother? I had a burger on the job. I've gotta have something in my stomach if I'm gonna deal with these clowns all day."

 

He gave Lightwards an icy glare. "Don't know what you care about it, but you'd best let go and stop scolding me before I--"

 

"I CARE," Lightwards suddenly shrieked, "BECAUSE I, DEAR CHILD, AM THE MASTER OF BURGERS!"

 

"Let go of me, you crazy--"

 

A crescendo of beautiful sounds erupted through the chamber. A gunshot, spraying Lightwards' beautiful face all over the stone wall. The scream of a startled soldier, falling backwards as an enormous weight crushed his leg.

 

And the moo of a beautiful new Warrior of Light springing into being, animated from the tiny, imperceptible streak of grease on the guard's pant leg. 

 

 

 

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Emma Runes groaned, rolling over in bed to clutch at the radio blaring beside her.

 

"What is it?" she asked groggily. "I'm trying to get my beauty sleep."

 

"We need you at town central!" Arsenal's voice raged over the crackle of static. "We have an emergency!"

 

"I'm on it," Emma yawned. "What's the details?"

 

"Lightwards," Arsenal growled dangerously, "has escaped."

 

That made Emma sit up in bed, now thoroughly surprised. "What? You mean the kooky dinosaur guy? I thought we had him locked up!"

 

"We did. Now, however, he's rampaging down the street on the back of a cow, spraying an AK-47 everywhere because YOU'RE NOT HERE TO STOP HIM."

 

"I'll be there right away," she promised seriously. "Over and out."

 

She sprung from bed, now fully awake as she threw on her clothes and headed for the door.

 

It's gonna be one of those days, I can tell.

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"DEATHWISH!" 

 

Edgar Hawke lifted his radio, pressed the button, and said the first words that came through his sleep-addled brain. "I told you, it's Edgar." 

 

"I DON'T CARE WHO YOU ARE, I NEED YOU OUT HERE TEN MINUTES AGO!"  

 

"You don't have to shout at me, Arsenal. I've been much happier since I stopped shouting about things." 

 

That prompted a good thirty seconds of shouting. 

 

"GET OUT HERE AND STOP LIGHTWARDS OR I'LL SEND EVERY SIREN IN THE CITY TO SURROUND YOUR APARTMENT—" 

 

"Wait a minute, Lightwards? That crazy dinosaur guy?" 

 

"Yes." 

 

Edgar sat up in bed, fatigue vanishing. He'd seen that man, that Epic. Helped bring him down and chain him to that wheelchair. Killed him a few times—indirectly, of course, but that didn't stop the tears. Nor had it stopped Arsenal and Vondra from berating him for crying, or Scribbler and Edgerunner from giggling about it. 

 

And now he was loose. 

 

"There's only one way to bring him down," Edgar said, flinging off the covers and standing to his feet. 

 

"Yes, and it involves you reflecting every bullet from that gun he swiped off that guard, and it needs to happen—" 

 

"No. That isn't what I meant." 

 

"Well, it's what you'll do, or I'll send those sirens your way!" 

 

"That, Arsenal, is what Deathwish would have done. But I'm not Deathwish anymore." 

 

Arsenal's sigh was audible. "Dear Calamity, not this again." 

 

Edgar planted his hands on his hips and looked toward the ceiling, standing there in an empty room and his boxer shorts. "I'm Edgar now, and Edgar does things a different way." 

 

"I hate you." 

 

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"He did what?" 

 

"Ran into my clinic, grabbed a Coke from the mini-fridge, and took off." 

 

Autumn stood there, blinking, pieces flying together. "Oh no." 

 

"What? He paid for the Coke." 

 

"No, no, no, it's not that." Autumn turned from the doctor, headed for the door, and stopped. "No, I can't go out because he'd lecture me about putting myself in danger—which is sweet, but really weird coming from him, never mind that he's the one chasing after a psychotic Epic with a Coke—" 

 

"He's doing what with that Coke?" 

 

Autumn sighed. "Remember how all this started? Death—Edgar—being nice and all? He drank a Coke first." 

 

Doctor Game chuckled. "I always wondered why he paid for it later." 

 

"And now—" 

 

Her explanation was cut short by three things. 

 

The first was the crack of gunfire, followed by a shout of pain. 

 

The second was a flat moo.

 

The third was a voice, and that voice belonged to Edgar. 

 

"It can heal you!" A quick peek through the blinds showed Edgar floating toward Lightwards, holding a bottle of Coke aloft. The latter Epic's shamrock green cowboy hat was the least ridiculous part of the scene. "It can save you!

Edited by TwiLyghtSansSparkles
8

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