The Final Quantum Crisis: Part 5

[Prologue: Earth. Normally just a planet full of loudmouth idiots, cultural savages and meddling superheroes, now it is a living inferno of hate, destruction and death. It is the source of cataclysmic chaos, as all around it the very fabric of space and time twists and rips apart. The entire multiverse is beginning to converge and reshape in one location. Within minutes, or hours, or weeks, or even microseconds all that is, was and ever shall be will quite probably be gone forever, recreated by the will of the God of Evil: Darkseid.

But what of life in the universe around the Earth? Is there nothing that can be done by the multitudes of lifeforms throughout the cosmos?

Many millions of miles away, just out of the reach of the cosmic disruptions but still close enough to see the chaos that tears space & time asunder, 2 beings - protectors of the universe charged with bringing law and order to sectors of the galaxy - watch the death throes of the Earth.]

Quasar: So..........what do we do?

Green Lantern: Do? Nothing.

Quasar: Nothing?! But Earth and the multiverse around us are totally boned. We gotta do something.

Green Lantern: But it's Earth. They're, like, the universe's pain in the ballsack.

Quasar: The multiverse dying is gonna be an even bigger pain in the universe's ballsack! And I'll have you know I'm from Earth. I have friends and family on that planet you call a pain in the ballsack. And a lot of really hot chicks who live there too.....who, oddly enough, I didn't mind being a pain in my ballsack.

Green Lantern: And yet you still left.

Quasar: Well, yes. To protect the cosmos and use my fantastic superhuman powers to combat the injustices of evil throughout the galaxy.

Green Lantern: But space has hot chicks, man. All sorts of hot chicks.

Quasar: They're fine. But they don't put out like Earth girls do.

Green Lantern: You ever get it on with a Tryllian female? That's, like, all they do. AND they've got 3 cans.

Quasar: Y'know, ever since I saw that that chick with the 3 cans in Total Recall I have looked and looked all over the galaxy and found nothing like that.

Green Lantern: Oh, they're out there. Trust me, they are....and they are FANTASTIC.

Quasar [sighs as he writes down "Tryllian"]: So you're just here to watch the Earth die, then?

Green Lantern: Yeah. The Guardians of Oa said to just stay here out of reach and videotape its death.

Quasar: Really. That's very surprising and totally unlike them.

Green Lantern: It was this or videotape their big gangbang sex parties.

Quasar: The Guardians are having sex with gangsters?! That is REALLY not like them!

Green Lantern: Only you could be so dumb as to think that's what a gangbang is. Jeez. You are as dumb and pointless as Ponte says you are.

(*^#$*%~$@

Joe Q. Public: Ok, ok, now hold on here. How does that Green Lantern know who Ponte is??

Michael Ponte: I know!! And which Green Lantern is it?! There are 1000's of them; at least name him!! Is it Kilowog? Salakk? The dude who looked like a giant diamond with a mohawk.

Joe Q. Public: Seriously?

[Ponte nods]

Joe Q. Public: This is very silly. Hasn't this story been silly enough?

Michael Ponte: Oh wait....the CHIPMUNK? Tell me it's not the chipmunk, Walsh!

Joe Q. Public: Is there a point to this? To any of this?!

Michael Ponte: And why the fuck is Quasar the Green Lantern ripoff in this story?!

Sean Walsh: It's just a brief prologue, touching on one last minor plot point before I wrap things up.

Michael Ponte: But QUASAR?! WHY?!?

Sean Walsh: Be...because I despise everything you stand for?

Michael Ponte: Well okay then. I can accept your honesty. [shakes Walsh's hand] Let us move on...

Joe Q. Public: I have to stop reading this crap. It's like you two are just writing these for your own entertainment...

@$~%*$#^*)

[On Earth, far away from the admittedly pointless prologue characters, DARKSEID - the God of Evil, Space and Time - sits atop his mountain of the dead. His remaining minions/aspects, Granny Goodness/Oprahseid and an Anti-Life controlled Herve, stand by his side. Before them, 2 figures fade into sight: Piett and the African American Racer, pulled from the Space/Time Continuum.]

African American Racer: ....t are you talking abBLEARGHHHHH!!!!! [vomits, obviously]

Piett: Now you're vomiting? Shouldn't you be used to moving through the ethers of space/time and whatever?

African American Racer: I was talking. Sometimes the ethers gets in your throat and make you gag.

Piett: Gross.

Michael Clarkseid Duncan: Ahem.

African American Racer: Not now, I'm explaining [sees who it is] BLEARGHHHHH!!!!

Piett: More ethers?

African American Racer: No, dude. It's Michael Clarke Duncan.

Piett: So??

African American Racer: Dude was awful in Daredevil.

Piett: Actually this is Darkseid, using Michael Clarke Duncan's body as an avatar while he conquers the Earth. [aside] Still haven't been able to accept how that's a better idea than just Darkseid conquering Earth.

[Pause]

Michael Clarkseid Duncan: What, no vomiting?

African American Racer: If I vomited anymore, I'd probably die. I can't see how bulimics do it. Besides, we knew you had to be here. [points to all around him] Living inferno of hate, destruction and death, after all.

Michael Clarkseid Duncan: Yeah.....yeah, I'm proud of it.

Herve: Albeit the headaches, master.

Michael Clarkseid Duncan: There is that.

African American Racer: Headaches?

Oprahseid: Yes. Apparently Darkseid is a total newb to taking over millions and billions of minds...

Piett: Called it.

Oprahseid: ...and as a result of dispersing his consciousness throughout so many people's minds he's developed something of a horrible split personality.

African American Racer: That's deep.

Oprahseid: I've seen deeper shit in soap operas.

Michael Clarkseid Duncan: Guh. You watch soap operas?

Oprahseid: No, sire, you do.

[Sickened with himself for walking right into that one, Darkseid blasts Granny Goodness with his Omega beams and destroys her utterly.]

Michael Clarkseid Duncan: Enough of this. It's time for these affairs to end.

Herve: Finally.

Michael Clarkseid Duncan: So now, Piett, comes your demise. As I recreate the cosmos from.....where are we again?

Herve: Toledo, master.

Michael Clarkseid Duncan: Toledo. Well, the annals of history will always remember Toledo as the place where I killed the last remaining hurdle to my ascension to ubergodhood.

Piett: Wait, we've been in TOLEDO this whole time?! No wonder shit went downhill so badly.

Michael Clarkseid Duncan: And now you die.

[As Darkseid's eyes glow, prepared to utilize the Omega effect to obliterate his foe, Piett pulls out the gun from Cosmos' lab and aims it at Darkseid. To everyone's amazement, Darkseid backs off......then laughs.]

Michael Clarkseid Duncan: A gun?! You're going to kill a god with a gun?!

[Without speaking a reply, Piett pulls the trigger, and the time travelling bullet blasts out toward Darkseid. As it gets closer, Darkseid's bravado fades and doubt overcomes him. But as quickly as it does, the bullet........disappears. There is a long, and appropriately so, pause.]

Piett: Well.....that sucks.

African American Racer: We should've expected a time travelling bullet to do that. You know, disappear and travel through time and space.

Piett: Maybe it'll reappear and blow the back of his head off.

[Pause]

Piett: Nothing.

[Long pause]

Piett: Still nothing.

[Longer pause]

Piett: .....fuck.

Michael Clarkseid Duncan: Pathetic. Just as all that preceded it was pathetic as well, Piett. Your life...has reached its end.

Piett: Can I just say something?

Michael Clarkseid Duncan: If you value your life, you will not.

Piett: Seriously? Just one thing.

Michael Clarkseid Duncan: Did you HEAR what I just said?

Piett: I swear, it's not much.

Michael Clarkseid Duncan: Are you retarded?

African American Racer: No, but MAN he'll beat your ass with superhuman strength if you get him 'tarded up enough.

Michael Clarkseid Duncan: GUH! Fine! Say it and then let me kill you!

Piett: Zarkov.

Herve: Oh sweet, I can finally take this thing off now.

Michael Clarkseid Duncan: And--wait, WHAT?!

[Darkseid turns in astonishment and watches Herve pulls the helmet off his head and toss it away.]

African American Racer: Zang!

Piett: Well, something worked.

Herve: By the way, there was no "internal feed of porn" in there, nancy pants. [points angrily at Darkseid] And if you thought I'm gonna stare at the inside of that heavy and uncomfortable helmet and have to use my IMAGINATION to come up with sexual images, then you have another thing coming!

Michael Clarkseid Duncan: Inconceivable! You defied the power of the Anti-Life Equation!

Herve: I resisted. Just like Hans Zarkov.

Michael Clarkseid Duncan: Who?

Herve: Dr. Hans Zarkov, from Flash Gordon. Dude, we watched the movie at our place, like, a year ago.

Michael Clarkseid Duncan: Was that the one with the Queen music?

Herve: Yes it was.

Michael Clarkseid Duncan: Bluh, that movie was so stupid.

[Herve is shocked and sickened.]

Piett: Yet another reason why we need to end you. Now.

Michael Clarkseid Duncan: HAHA! Fool!! What do you possibly have that could kill me?

Piett: Cosmic awareness, dickface.

Herve: So you figured out the cosmic understanding thing? Right on.

Piett: What?! You KNEW?!

Herve: Yeah. Chronos told me when we were drunk one night. Told me to keep it a secret. Then he threw up on me. Twice. Like a bulimic. Man, that was not pretty. Plus we'd been eating Twizzlers, so that stuff was just, like, EVERYWHERE, and--

Piett: OH MY GOD stop talking please!

Michael Clarkseid Duncan: Yes, please. Stop talking. The time for you to die is nigh, as I will blast you into atoms and wipe you out of existance. [mockingly, with a smirk on his face] Literally, Piett. Wipe you out of existance.

[Piett stops.....and suddenly it - whatever that is - hits him. Whatever tenseness, worry and doubt filled his mind are gone.]

Piett: I don't think so, Darkseid. I think you're the one whose time has finally come to its nigh time.

African American Racer: Seriously, does Darkseid actually want to kill Piett? He coulda killed him, like, 10 times so far here.

Michael Clarkseid Duncan: You think you can take me? Do you actually think you can outfight a GOD?!

Piett: No, but I can outthink one. And I'm about to turn your lowly world of solitude upside down.

Michael Clarkseid Duncan: What?

Piett: See, people have told me not to be so literal. But in reality, I needed to be literal to see how we could win this. This cosmic awareness is your undoing, Darkseid, because thanks to your little sarcastic nudge, I've figured it all out.

African American Racer: He's gonna start talking a lot now, isn't he?

Herve: Walsh needs to hammer the whole point of this grand climax across in a frankly verbose and actionless manner.

¤°`°¤ø,¸¸,ø¤°`°¤ø,¸¸,ø¤°`°¤ø

[He stops typing and pauses.]
Sean Walsh: Wow, this writing is like therapy.
[He resumes typing...]

¤°`°¤ø,¸¸,ø¤°`°¤ø,¸¸,ø¤°`°¤ø

Piett: See, you claim anti-life is the absence of individuality. That life itself is the joy of having free thought and control over your own mind, and that anti-life is the complete and utter imprisonment of those things. But that's too cerebral. It much simpler than that. Anti-life is literally that. The antithesis of life. Anti-life.....is death.

[As an eerie smile spreads across Piett's face, Darkseid's jaw drops as he realizes, and very much dreads, what is about to occur. Herve and the Racer kinda back away, because even they sense something awful is about to happen. And behind all of them, a familiar figure on his big green chair flickers into sight and sits, watching and observing the events with great interest.]

Piett: In a way, I've become...Death.

African American Racer: Hey!

Piett: ...and now I am the master of Anti-Life. [as he speaks, the bands representing the power of anti-life form around him] So I do what you couldn't do, Darkseid, what you truly dared not do, and release the true formula of the Anti-Life Equation across the entire world. To all those controlled by Darkseid and his limited scope of anti-life.......

Michael Clarkseid Duncan: ....no....

Piett: DIE.

[And with that, everyone controlled by the Anti Life Equation simply......drops dead.]

Michael Clarkseid Duncan: NO!!!!

Herve: You just killed.....AHHH SHIT!!! You just killed the whole world!!!

Michael Clarkseid Duncan: You......you've done it. [shudders] You've achieved Anti-Life.

Piett: The real Anti-life, not the watered down version that you dwelt in and were too afraid to expand upon. And now your ultimate victory has been achieved, Darkseid. By someone else, and far grander in scope than even you were willing to commit yourself to. Live knowing that, Darkseid. Live....all alone knowing that.

Michael Clarkseid Duncan: I beg of you....show me mercy!! ! Do not condemn me to this hell!! MERCY!!!!

Piett: Mercy?! For condemning me and Herve to this whole god awful multi-part saga? For making me an angel of death who had to beat the shit out of talking vampire TV's?!

Herve: What.

African American Racer: I'll tell you later.

Piett: NEVARRR!! You, Darkseid, don't suffer my literal wrath.....you suffer your own!

Michael Clarkseid Duncan: NO!!

Piett: Darkseid....you are alone. Now and forever. Go back to your Continuum, oh lord of space and time.

[Suddenly, Darkseid and all his remaining aspects are ripped from the bodies of his human hosts. Michael Clarke Duncan can only enjoy his freedom for so long before he falls over dead, his soul and body unable to live without the energy of Darkseid. The ghostly form of Darkseid - his true form, like a neon colored ghost - emerges into sight and is bound by the symbols of Anti-Life.]

Darkseid: Impossible! How does a mere mortal with a simple connection to cosmic awareness defeat a god? A GOD?!?!

Piett: African American Racer: Luck?

African American Racer: Blind luck?

Herve: Blind stupid luck?

Metron [to himself]: Adequate yet second rate storytelling and plot development. [pause] That was a statement of fact, hence the lack of a question mark.

[The bands of Anti-Life constrict around Darkseid's apparitonal body, and he howls. In anger, in defeat and in shame of his utter and complete failure of existance.]

Michael Ponte: This is my most favoritest part of everything!!

[Darkseid's cries diminish, though, as his immortal life begins to break apart and fade, and soon the bands that he wished for so long to control for himself have crushed and consumed Darkseid completely, squeezing him and themselves into almost non-existance. In a flash, Darkseid - the God of Evil, the God of Space and Time - is no more.]

Herve: Really? THAT's the death of Darkseid? Squeezed to death by rings of ancient symbols?

Piett: It was that or I sing.

Herve: That's weirdly random.

Piett: Yes, which is why I went with the hulahoops of doom.

African American Racer: So where'd he go?

Piett: Think about it, he's the lord of Space and Time. And I sent him back to his realm, the Space/Time Continuum.

African American Racer: But, but he destroyed the Continuum.

Piett: Exactly.

[Pause]

African American Racer: Oh. Oh, I've seen what you did there.

Piett: So I guess that's that.

African American Racer: I'd like to think our job here is done.

Piett: I believe it is, yes.

Herve: Ok, you 2 are real chummy. What's going on here?

Piett: Isn't it obvious, Herv? I'm cheating on you.

Herve: WHAT?!

African American Racer: HA! That's precisely what you said he'd do. Act all angry like you were a gay couple or something.

Herve: WHAT?!

Piett: And you told me he'd overreact to the false accusation that he's gay. Man, you're cool, Racer.

Herve [darkens his eyes]: Too cool.

African American Racer: Well, there's an obvious answer for that I suppose. [removes helmet]

Piett and Herve: GAHHHHH!!!!

African American Herve: Yup.

Herve: You're me.....but black!!

African American Herve: African American! And yes, I sure am.

Piett: That explains why I got along with you so well. [pause] Although it seems more like just a last minute revelations out of the blue.

African American Herve: Don't worry, I can provide a reasoned and rational explanation. See--

[Before African American Herve can explain his plot point, Herve blasts him with a laser and reduces him to ashes.]

Piett: The hell?! I liked that guy!

Herve: There's only one me, dude.

Piett: But.....well, that's a good point. Still, we never got to hear his origins and whole relevance in being here.

Herve: I can fix this. Think of something impressive he could've said.

Piett: Ok. [thinks]

Herve: Ok, now whatever you just thought.....forget it, because in reality it was not that good.

Piett: Really?

Herve: Is it EVER as good as we think it might be?

Piett [begrudgingly]: No.

Herve: There we go then.

[Herve looks around, at the complete lifelessness around them.]

Herve: So, what now?

Piett: Now we return home.

Herve: Buh?

Piett: The Miracle Machine.....device that Cosmos and Chronos left us to beat Darkseid, it's time for us to wish ourselves back home.

Herve: Back home? But.....um, dude, this is home.

Piett: This isn't home. We're clearly not in the same existance we've always been in.

Herve: Really? I had figured this was it, but we could use some magic device to undo everything Darkseid did and return things to normal.

Piett: Perhaps. But I doubt it.

Herve: Because you don't believe in miracles?

Piett: More like I don't really believe Cosmos created a miracle. Just something Darkseid obviously thought was one and used as an excuse to grab their power and kill them.

Herve: So this "Miracle Machine." Where is it?

Piett: Lost with the Continuum when Darkseid pulled us back here.

Herve: And how do we use this non-existant deux ex machine?

Piett: Easy. I memorized it.

Herve: For reals?

Piett: Cosmic awareness. Comes with photographic memory, it seems.

Herve: So then build it, brainiac.

Piett: I can't. Don't have the tools here. But rather, I can form it in my own mind.

Herve: You did drugs with black me, didn't you? So horribly stereotypical.

Piett: It's the cosmic awareness. It's like it downloaded the schematics into my mind. It's given me the ability to just.....use my mind to activate it. All I, and you, need to do to get it working is......hope.

Herve: Wait, so you don't believe in miracles, but believe in the power of hope??

Piett: Yes I do.

Herve [rolling eyes]: Ugh, you've gone all limp wristed on me. So I just.......hope for a wish that'll undo all this.

Piett: Take us home.

Herve: Whatever.

Piett: Right. Let's go.

Herve: Right? Well then.

Piett: Wish now!

Herve: Got it! Here we g













Herve: ....I think I wished too hard and pooed myself.

Piett: WISH!!!















[Somewhere dark, Piett awakens.]

AHHHHHHH!!!!!!

[He looks around. He is aghast to discover that he is now attached to a giant machine, tubes extending from his arms and chest and private parts. He is naked, wet and in a cold dark room.]

Piett: Where--what--Herve! HERVE!!!

[Piett looks around, but cannot see much in this room. His eyesight comes back to him slowly, and all he can determine is that he is in a laboratory. On the far end of it, atop a staircase, is a small room, lit from within and seperated from the rest of the lab by glass and a door. Piett pulls himself off the machine, tubes snapping and flailing behind him, as he rises up and walks toward this light.]

[Above him, 2 mad scientists - one with yellow, white and black facepaint, and a man-ape with a monocle - suddenly flinch as their motion sensors activate and they see Piett emerging from his inactive state and approaching their position.]

Mokkari: Oh shit!

Simyan: Ook?

Mokkari: We've failed! The specimens have regained consciousness and are breaking free!

Simyan: Ook!

Mokkari: Come, brother Simyan, let us flee and live to be evil another day, before we have to explain this particular plot point to the protagonists of this woeful tale of doom!

Simyan: Ook!!!

[Suddenly, the very naked Piett bursts through the glass and into the room, standing in all his glory - or shame, take your pick - before his supposed captors.]

Piett: Where - are - my - PANTS?!?!? [pause] AAAGGHHHHHHHand why did I jump through a plate glass window completely naked?!?!

Simyan: Ook ook oooook!!!!

[Piett suddenly spin kicks Simyan square in the jaw and knocks the monkey man out cold. He pulls the remaining tubes out of his nose, as well as shards of glass from all over his body, and throws them at Mokkari.]

Mokkari: Oh gross! SNOTS!!!

[Mokkari fumbles about and falls out the broken window and far below to his doom. Or death. Or at least a harsh leg-breaking. Piett looks around, looking for answers and his pants, and sighs.]

Piett: Can't find my pants, or an answer about whatever's going on here. This day cannot get any worse.

[Suddenly a metal door, revealing a complex on the other side that far outsizes when Piett's seen so far, slides open.]

Mortimer St. Charles: What's the meaning of this OH CRAP!!!!

Piett: YOU?!?!?!

Mortimer St. Charles: Yes! ME!!!! Your insidious clone, Mortimer St. Charles!!

Piett: Back from the dead...............again?!?

Mortimer St. Charles: Or recloned....or travelled through the ethers of time and space from some alternate dimension....who cares?!? All you must know is that I am your DOOM!

[Piett looks around for a weapon to shut his overly-cliched evil clone up and is stunned to see the time travelling gun on the table beside him. Albeit puzzled, he quickly grabs off the table and aims it at his clone.]

Mortimer St. Charles: What are you going to do, with little consciousness and no pants? Shoot me in the shoulder??

[Without a word, Piett fires......with no result.]

Piett: .........FUCK AGAIN!!

Mortimer St. Charles: HAHAHA! You think I've leave an armed weapon in here, with that monkey man hybrid and the uber Ultimate Warrior - and most of all, you within yelling distance?! And an armed time travelling weapon no less?!? Please. I know it's been some time since we last battled, but you couldn't possibly think I wouldn't have learned from those past encounters and allowed such a breach of common sense like that, could you?!

[Mortimer St. Charles takes the gun from Piett's hands. From his pocket he unveils....a bullet.]

Mortimer St. Charles: No, but THIS bullet. This bullet is a very special one. With it, I'm going to fire it into the past - or even future - and fulfill an evil act the likes of which you couldn't possibly fathom! Imagine....this bullet could go and blast through Lincoln's skull during the Civil War and cause the victory of the Confederacy. Or it appears in Malta in 1945, killing Roosevelt, Churchill and Stalin at Malta and giving Hitler a sudden surge to overtake the Allies that ends the war in favor of the Nazis! Maybe it'll be the magic bullet that killed Kennedy and creates 45 hopeless years of American history! Or even better, this bullet could commit an all new act that tears history asunder! Killing Jesus from out of the blue when he was still a teenager! Or shooting your own mother as she was in labor with you! HAHA!! With this bullet, Piett, I could single-handedly undo your own bir--

[Suddenly, a time travelling bullet reemerges 5 feet to the left of Mortimer St. Charles' head and continues its course, plowing itself through the clone's temple and exploding out the other side. Mortimer St. Charles stands lifeless for just a moment, and then collapses, dead. Piett is still, trying to contemplate what has just happened here.]

Piett: Well....not only was my clone being killed in the middle of a villainous diatribe by a mystery time travelling bullet incredibly amazingly spectactularly unlikely, but also the best thing I could've dreamed to have happened at exactly that moment. [pause] Which makes it even MORE incredibly amazingly spectacularly unlikely.

[Suddenly, behind Piett, Herve crashes through another laboratory window, swinging on the tube that was just up his nose and lands besides Piett.]

Herve: Where the hell are we?!? Is that Mortimer St. Charles, your evil clone?!? And where are my fucking pants?!?! [pulls a shard of glass out of his crotch] I REALLY hope that doesn't kill me. Last thing I remember, we wished to undo what Darkseid did, now we're here?!

Piett: I think they must've destroyed our clothing, because--YOU DID WHAT?!?! I wished us home! I told you to wish us home!!

Herve: Pretty sure you changed your mind at the last minute, dude.

Piett: I did NOT!

Herve: Well, this could be a problem.

Piett: You think??

Herve: So what'd I miss here?

Piett: You.... [calms down, then resumes] You missed surprising awesomeness, it seems. Apparently I, or somebody, shot Mortimer St. Charles in the head with a time travelling bullet.

Herve: I thought we killed this dude. Like, twice or something.

Piett: Oh, who the hell knows anymore. But he's dead again.

Herve: Cool. Can we look for some pants, I've got some serious shrinkage here.

Piett: You're a midget. You've AlWAYS got some serious shrinkage there. [Herve scowls at him] I'm sure our clothes, and pants, are around here. I'd take his [points to St. Charles] but.....fucking clone, man. [kicks his dead clone]

Herve: Oh Christ, are you still wound up about that? Let's go.

[Piett and Herve walk out of the lab. Eventually, they find their pants, and soon they find their way out of Mortimer St. Charles' lair. They emerge from a bunker into a bright sunny day. They walk down a small hill where yonder lies a small country road.]

Piett: Y'know the worst part of this? The dream, or alternate reality, or whatever the hell those last few chapters were, didn't technically end.

Herve: We're walking off into the sunset. That's an ending, man.

Piett: No. I mean the douche in the big green chair never came back to tell me the point of it all. So it's technically not over.

[They walk away....into the sunset......]

Piett: Shit, it's over isn't it?

Herve: Yup.



And as Piett and Herve walk away, a familiar distortion in space and time reappears. The figure sits and watches, surveying the land around him and the 2 figures moving into the sunset. In a flash he lifts off the ground and soars into the atmosphere. As the distant sun shimmers off his blue and silver bodysuit, and as the giant green device leaves Earth behind and continues into deep space, he thinks. And contemplates. And knows.

Not all he has seen is right anymore....it's not right at all....

*fin*

The Final Quantum Crisis: Part 4

[Back in the remains of the Space/Time Continuum, the African American Racer and Piett sweep up the mess made previously, in the formerly grand palace of Cosmos and Chronos, by Piett's violent outburst. The remaining Monitors have reassembled themselves into the grand wall of screens that display the array of realities within the multiverse, and have given up their sentience to power the images once more.]

Piett: Thanks for helping me sweep up again.

African American Racer: I was going to complain, but after that smackdown you delivered to the TV's earlier, I thought it best not to really joke or even continue with that stereotypical black guy stuff anymore.

Piett: I'm pretty sure I couldn't grab you by the legs and bash you to death.

African American Racer: Don't be so sure. You 'tarded up pretty good there.

[Piett stops and stares.]

African American Racer: And I mean "'tarded up" in regards to the sudden display of superhuman strength, not in regards to your mental faculties. [pause] Which are impressive. [pause] Please don't kill me.

Piett: Dude, relax. Although knowing I have this kind of power over Death itself is pretty sweet. [resumes sweeping, but then stops] Hey...

[As Piett clears some dust and grime away, he sees a handle on the floor. He puts the broom down and pulls away the remnants of a once-immaculate rug. Underneath the rug is revealed a large doorway. He and the Racer grab the handle and lift up the door. The aroma of stale and secluded confines overwhelms them, but they succeed in opening the door completely. A series of steps leads down into a dimly lit room, underneath the main chamber of the palace.]

Piett: There's a whole other level of the palace down here. I never noticed this before.

[Piett walks down the dusty steps into a dark corridor. He is alone, though.]

Piett: Um....Racer?

African American Racer: Yeah, I'm gonna need a minute to figure out how to walk down steps with skis on.

Piett: Oh. Right.

[Piett resumes walking, until he enters the main room. To his shock, it's a laboratory and work area. Strewn about the room are various artifacts, complete and incomplete, large tablets of schematics, and even a workbench.]

Piett [to himself]: Ok, I'll bite....which one of them actually USED a workbench?

[Pause]

Piett: Oh, dammit, this is why I can't be left alone. No pithy response or comeback without me seeming insane--

VOICE ACTIVATION CONFIRMED. STANDING BY.

Piett: Ahhh!!

[As the computer voice deafens Piett momentarily, a giant screen unfolds from the ceiling and flickers to life in front of him.]

Piett: Ugh, if this is some crazy....Over-Monitor or something, I'm going to have a conniption.

[But there is no nefariousness to be found here. Instead, the image of an old friend flickers into sight. An old....departed friend.]

Piett: Cosmos!

Cosmos: Oh crap, is this thing working right?!

Piett: You're alive?!?

Cosmos: ....no, no I don't think the audio's working.

Piett: I can....[yells] I can hear you just fine!!

Cosmos: Seriously, it's not working. That light should not be on.

Voice: That's the light that goes on when the feed is on. It's working, trust me!

Piett: Chronos?! Is that--

Cosmos: Trust you? Why would I do that?

Chronos: Dude, just because I bought this camera at Circuit City doesn't mean it's defective! Not everything at that liquidation was defective!

Cosmos: That Venture Brothers DVD was defective! If it could affect DVD playback, it could affect the audio of a videocamera you bought without a box!

Chronos: That was the cheap piece of shit DVD player that you bought that ruined Hank and Dean! Name brand, asshole, always buy name brand!

African American Racer [finally arriving]: Really? These beings ran space and time?

Piett: Oh, so you figured it out.

African American Racer: Yeah, just pulled my feet off.

Piett: .....I'll laugh later. [back to the screen] Cosmos! Chronos!

African American Racer: Hold on...this is not a live feed. It's taped. See the blinking time?

Piett: Oh. Missed that.

Cosmos: Piett, Herve.....if you're hearing this, then....well, then I apologize to Chronos. If you're NOT hearing this, then you'll have to read my lips!

Chronos: Oh screw you!

Cosmos: No, scr--guh, no time for any more bitching. Piett, Herve.......if you're hearing this, it means....well, it means we're dead. Seems our contacts in Natori-Vilal indicate that something bad is brewing. I'm not talking "Cloud City administrator merged with a ghost and his evil time traveling biologist cohort" bad, or even "infinite Pontes on unicycles" bad. It's much worse. And this is conveniently occurring while you're away, wandering around in some universe, which we currently can't observe because THOSE TV PURCHASES WERE ALSO UNWISE TOO!

Chronos: Blame Best Buy for that problem!

Cosmos: ....well, I can't blame Best Buy really. They're still solvent.

Piett: Jesus, get on with it.

Cosmos: Right, I should get on with it. So listen, if you get here and we're not around, we're probably dead. I hope they don't plunder and destroy the palace. And if we are dead, we have.....guidance. Parting words of wisdom, I guess.

Piett: Holy shit, that's a first.

Cosmos: You're probably thinking "Holy shit, that's a first." Well, I know. As a whole we've been kinda lacking in that department for some years. And ultimately, we apologize. First off, Piett, a word of advice about your....behavior lately...

Piett: I know, I know, "don't take things so literally." You too, huh?

Cosmos: My friend....TAKE THINGS LITERALLY.

Piett: Buh?!

Cosmos: It's not paranoia that's been plaguing you, nor is it doubt It's nothing bad it all...it's actually cosmic awareness and understanding.

Piett: Cosmic awareness and understanding?!?

Cosmos: Yes, cosmic awareness and understanding. You've been an agent so long, it was bound to happen. We just, erm, never got around to telling you.

Piett: Whoa.

Chronos: Speak for yourself, dude, I'm pretty sure I told him when we were drunk one night.

Cosmos: Impossible. He'd remember "cosmic awareness and understanding." It's very long and thus memorable.

Piett: Yeah, I totally would.

Cosmos: See? He totally would.

African American Racer: How the shit are they managing to have this conversation?

Cosmos: Behind you, you'll find a few things we've left behind to fight this mysterious menace that will destroy and kill us.

Chronos: I still think it's Darkseid.

Cosmos: Shut up! He's a pal, he'd never do anything like that! [back to his audience] On my workbench you'll find 2 items.

[Piett turns back to the workbench and gazes at its contents. He is stunned.]

Cosmos: I know.......it's MY workbench. Who knew, huh? The first item is a time travelling gun. When fired, this weapon will fire a bullet that will travel through time and space and find the true culprit of the horrors and atrocities you're knee-deep in the middle of. It doesn't work while you're in the Continuum, because we imagine it's quite messed up without us, but in realspace it will work fine. So aim and fire true, old chum, and the great enemy will be destroyed.

Chronos: And if it doesn't, just run. That always works too.

Cosomos: And the second device you see is probably my greatest creation. I call it the Miracle Machine.

Piett: But......[before he can realize it fully, he is joined in unison by Chronos] it looks like an old timey locomotive.

Cosmos: It's retro, dammit. Retro is finally cool again! But it's not the design that matters, it's the purpose. With this machine.....you can wish yourself a new reality.

Piett and Chronos and Racer [in unison again]: Muthafucka WHAT?!

Cosmos: I know, it flies in the face of everything I've ever known or believed in, but it's an actual valid invention. It works, though I can't really prove how. But regardless, I, Cosmos, the Lord of Space, have actually created......a miracle.

Piett: A miracle? [pause] Oh no, he wouldn't...

Cosmos: A miracle. Me! Who'd have thunk it?

African American Racer: Oh no? Why "oh no?"

Chronos: Oh lord, here we go...

Cosmos: Me....Cosmos.....a god?!

[As Cosmos rambles on, Piett and the Racer are silent.]

African American Racer: Oh, I see.

Piett: Darkseid didn't kill them because he were bored or just wanted to kick ass for a change....they were competition.

African American Racer: Or at least he believed they were.

Piett: It must've sparked some jealousy in Darkseid. One of them perceiving he might be a god worked Darkseid up and gave him the motivation to go off and be the only and only god. So he kills Cosmos and Chronos, cripples the Continuum and presumably takes over all the other pantheons of gods before coming down to the mortal plane to take over there.

African American Racer: That's totally speculation on your part.

Chronos: Dude, you know if you start spouting off that you're a god you're gonna piss someone off and make them kick our ass. [aside] Like Darkseid.

Cosmos: Stop assuming Darkseid would kill us! He's, like, retired or something. He never does that stuff anymore. Folks like us gotta pick up his slack and run with it.
[Piett glares at the Racer, who under his helmet rolls his eyes and silently concedes the point.]

Cosmos: But I digress. Anyway, we're probably dead, you're cosmically aware and now have the tools to destroy the enemy. Oh, and Herve, some advise for you: Zarkov. Just think about that. And remember it. It'll make sense. Zarkov.

Piett: If only he knew he wasn't here. But I guess I'll remind him of that when next I see him...

Cosmos: So, I guess that's it. We're off to, um, die I guess.

Chronos: Kinda morbid, isn't that?

Cosmos: I have no idea how to end this video. I'd be all inspirational, but that's tacky and cliched. As would be ending it like the Sopran








African American Racer: Really? They really ended the video like that?

Piett: Maybe that was the moment when they died.

African American Racer: Dude, they were right here. In this room.

Piett [looks around]: I guess... Yeah, everything's still here, relatively safe and protected.

[Piett looks around, and toward the end of the room a pile of familiar boxes catches his eye. The Racer stands silently, wondering what has just happened.]

Piett: Oh....wow.

African American Racer: What is it?

Piett: Well....I think I can say Herve's gonna really miss them now.

[Piett points at the pile of boxes, which upon closer inspection is filled to the brim with DVDs, videotapes and magazines.]

Piett [sniffles]: They....they saved his porn.

[Behind them, suddenly, there are the sounds of rustling and walking and soon audible speaking. Piett and the Racer are not alone here. Piett instinctively flees and hides, behind all the porn, while the Racer slowly moves that way as well.]

African American Racer [whispering]: Wait, why are you fleeing and hiding like this? You maniacally beat the shit out of an evil television earlier.

Piett: Maybe I wanted to be near the porn?

[Pause]

Piett: No, I'm really just a pussy.

[The rustling, walking and speaking come closer - then stop, near the entrance to Cosmos and Chronos' underground lab.]

Achtung! Zere's a room down here!

I told you I heard commotionsths in here earlier!

Signs of life and signs of cleaning up too, fellow colleagues. Seems we are not alone here.

[The 3 figures descend into the bunker and walk toward the main lab.]

African American Racer: It's the Governator, Kenneth Branagh and that gay guy from Sex and the City. [pause] Oh shit, is this the random cast of characters crap you alluded to earlier that always shows up in your adventures?

Piett: These aren't people here to join up. These are Darkseiders.

African American Racer: How do you know that?

Piett: Just look at their names.

Ahnald Schwarzeneggerseid: So tell me, Kanto, how did ve New Godz all die anyvay?

Kenneth Branaghseid: Political debate gone horribly awry.

Mario Canntoneseid: I thsthought it wasth becausthe sthome guy blew giant gaping holesth into usth.

Kenneth Branaghseid: Bloody hell, which one would you rather believe - gods killing each other over the politics of the mortal world, or an underwhelming and half-assed murder mystery where we all got shot in the chest and killed….a far simpler death than anyone could've imagined a god dying would be?!

Ahnald Schwarzeneggerseid [aside]: I never vant to hear zat man speak of blowing un gaping holes ever again...

African American Racer: ....how the hell am I able to see their names?!?

[As Racer turns to ask this metatextual question of Piett, he knocks over a box of porn. Its contents fall everywhere as the 3 aspects of Darkseid are startled and take up arms.]

Mario Canntoneseid: Hold it right there, you ruffiansth! [sees the porn titles and the fact that they are very much NOT homosexual in nature] OHH!! EWWW!! OHH!!! That isth all stho ssthoo disssthgusting!!!!

Piett: AHHHH!!!!

African American Racer: I think my ears are bleeding!

Piett: Oh, great job, you ponce. Your lisp is making Death's ears bleed.

[Suddenly, before anything else can happen, a large object shimmers into view, between the 2 parties. It is Metron and his Mobius Chair again.]

All: AHHHHH!!!!

Metron: I am observing....madness, quite honestly.

Kenneth Branaghseid: And you felt the need to interuppt and tell us all this?!

Metron: Yes. While my quest for knowledge is foremost, I'm also a compassionate being who feels the urge to reduce the suffering created by fan fiction as well.

All: OUCH.

Piett: So do you have the answer?

Metron: Um [awkward pause] no, not just yet. Just making this random cameo in the midst of my pursuit of that answer. [gulps, then looks at Vundabar] A Nazi in a bunker, huh? Well, I know how that ends at least. [vanishes]

Mario Canntoneseid: What the hell wasth Metron doing here? And what'sth the meaning of all thisth?! I didn't ththink monitor duty in thisth palaceth would actually require dutiessth and work!! Now handssth where I can sthee them and sthtand up!

[Annoyed by the neverending lisps, the African American Racer pokes Godfrey in the chest with his ski pole. He falls over. Dead.]

Piett: You can kill with the ski poles?!

African American Racer: Oh yeah. I ain't jokin' around.

[As Kanto and Vundabar are horrified, but also relieved, at the ease of their comrade's death, Piett strikes with a sudden ferocity. He deftly whisks the dagger from Kanto's hand and sticks it right in his neck. Kanto screams and fumbles around, flailing his arms and trying to block the horrendous gush of blood coming out of his neck. Vundabar yelps as his face is covered in his fellow New God's blood, and Kanto, his overacting finally done, falls to the ground dead. Vundabar wipes his face, but Piett grabs him in a armlock. They struggle to fight over control of Vundabar's gun. However, Piett slowly gets the upper hand and manages to maneuver the gun up to Vundabar's temple. He laughs and draws the Racer's attention.]

Piett: And now, my impersonation of Adolf Hitler!

[Piett pulls the trigger on the gun. Without even a final piece of dialogue, Vundabar jerks violently as the other side of his head is blown apart. He falls, dead.]

African American Racer: I thought Metron already did the Hitler joke.

Piett: Oh, you buzzkill. You NEVER pass up a Hitler joke!

African American Racer: I'm telling you, man, you're totally 'tarding up the longer this adventure goes on.

Piett: Maybe I am. [pause] Physically, at least.

African American Racer: We'll see about that when he get to the end.

[With the human host bodies of Glorious Godfrey, Kanto and Virman Vundabar strewn about to rot, Piett and the Racer turn to leave the bunker. Piett grabs the time travelling gun and sticks it in his coat pocket and races up the steps. With the Miracle Machine in his hands, the Racer manages to move slowly up the steps. Piett stops at the top and screams at what he sees there: the Racer's feet.]

Piett: OH MY GOD YOU REALLY DID PULL YOUR OWN FEET OFF!!

African American Racer: Toldja I did.

Piett: I just thought you were kidding!

African American Racer: Even for kidding, that's a pretty sick thing to say. I'm surprised you didn't take me literally. Cosmic awareness my eternal black ass.

[As the Racer gets to the surface, he places the Machine on the marble floor and sits, grabbing his still-ski laden feet and reattaching them to his legs.]

African American Racer: What's the plan now?

Piett: Now? Well as you said, the god who refuses to die and make way for the new reality must be destroyed, so that cosmic purity can be achieved.

African American Racer: Verily.

Piett: Though maybe we could also visit Heaven and Olympus. I mean, honestly, if Darkseid killed other pantheons of gods like I figure he did, we could go there too and get more backup.

African American Racer: Eh, no. I'm tired. And this has gone on long enough as it is. Let's just take this Miracle Machine and.....wait...

Piett: What is it?

African American Racer: Did that gay guy really make my ears bleed and I'm losing blood flow to my brain, or are we starting to disappear?

Piett: Disappear? No, it's just getting foggy. [pause] Wait, there's no fog in the Space Time AHHHHCRAPwearedisappearing!!! Quick, grab the Miracle Machine!

[The African American Racer reaches down where he left it on the floor, but his hands pass right through it.]

African American Racer: SHIZZLE! We're....we're being transported out of the Continuum!!

Piett: Darkseid!!! Killing his aspects must've alerted him to our presence here!

African American Racer: Dammit, he's pulling us back to Earth!

[As Piett tries not to panic, he gazes at the Miracle Machine, he suddenly freezes and stares closely at it. He stares hard, almost as if he has no control over himself.]
African American Racer: Do something, man! DO SOMETHING!!!

Piett: I.....I.......I am?!?

African American Racer: Wha...

[His voice fades, and within seconds both the African American Racer and Piett vanish. Around them, the Space Time Continuum - the palace, the bunker, the monitors, everything - begins to shake....then flickers....and then in a blink of an eye, it is no more and all turns dark. Just like the ending of the Sopran














Yeah, I did it too.

The Final Quantum Crisis: Part 3

[Earth. What seems like days after are in fact months. Or years. Or even eons. Now fully under the control of Darkseid, the New God of Space and Time, the very ideas of space and time warp around the planet, and all the multiverses and parallel dimensions begin to slowly converge on this one location, folding in on each other and reshaping in the image Darkseid wishes it. Atop a mountain of cities old and new, where whole continents have merged and dissolved and formed from nothingness, Darkseid sits on a grand throne, made of the bones of the long and recent dead. His newest minion, Herve, stands by his side, as the great God of All Evil.....is having a wicked killer headache.]

Michael Clarkseid Duncan: Why did I agree to this?

Herve: Agree to what, sir?

Michael Clarkseid Duncan: To do this whole take over all free will thing. My head is just killing me.

Herve: It was my understanding.....OUR understanding.....that this was your single intent in life. Take over all life and destroy all individual thought. The universe and all in it will be the sole dominion of Darkseid.

Michael Clarkseid Duncan: But all these voices....all these eyes.....all this jerking off! GAH! I can't believe how disgustingly precise you were with that one! All of this is even too much for the God of Space, Time and All Evil to handle all at once. Can't I delegate this shit or something?

Herve: The countdown to this crisis should've been more organized and handled with grace and finesse. Instead you just tackled too many things at once and made a mess of things by wanting to get it all done as quick and easy and violent as possible.

Michael Clarkseid Duncan: Are you expressing doubt? None shall doubt the will of Darkseid!!

Herve: Except Darkseid. Because my doubt is in reality your doubt. [taps his forehead] This is you now, remember?

[Pause]

Michael Clarkseid Duncan: Fuckbags, you're right. [sighs] Get me some more of those medicinal nuggets.

Herve: They're called Advils.

Michael Clarkseid Duncan: Advil nuggets. More! Now!

[As Herve steps aside to fetch more Advil from the plunder made at the local Rite-Aid, a group of people approach him.]

Michael Clarkseid Duncan: Guh, what is it now?

Oprahseid: All praise great Darkseid! Your mission has been accomplished. Your control over Anti-Life has given you victory! We salute you, master!

[She and the others in her company genuflect.]

Michael Clarkseid Duncan: Point of order......keep the volume down, at least until I've consumed more Advil. [looks at the gathered assemblege] Ah, my loyal Elite, who like me fell to Earth and were assigned mortal forms to infiltrate human society and bring it to its doom. Identify yourselves, as I'm not up on the latest volumes of Who's Who On the Planet Earth.

Oprahseid: Granny Goodness, in the form of the voluptuous "Oprah Winfrey," at your command, oh great Darkseid. Although I must inquire of you the location of my Female Furies. This great victory would be sweeter if my armies of Furies could be by my side to help ravage the human morsels of his planet.

Michael Clarkseid Duncan: Ah, the Furies. I....... [looks at Herve and shrugs]

Herve: Great Darkseid placed in the bodies of Playboy Playmates. They'll be serving a different role in this particular crisis, Granny. [turns aside and whispers] A role in my pants.

Mario Canntoneseid: Oh that iths just thso disthgusting.

Michael Clarkseid Duncan: AHHH, who the hell let the human serpent in here?! Who are you??

Mario Canntoneseid: Gloriousth Godfrey, thsir. Presthent and accounted for, oh magnificthent Darkstheid.

Michael Clarkseid Duncan: By Izaya's beard, that listhp...ARGH!!

[Darkseid blasts Gloriousth....fuck, now he's got everybody doing it.....Glorious Godfrey with his Omega Beams.]

Oprahseid: I wasn't aware you were a homophobe, sire. Killing that fruit may cost us a valuable asset.

Michael Clarkseid Duncan: All it cost me was another migraine. And he's not dead, I just transported him away to monitor duty. Far away. Where no one will mind the incessssent hisssssing. [groans as he tries not to hiss or lisp anymore in this story]

Oprahseid: Still seems a little homophobic...

Ahnald Schwarzeneggerseid: Gott in himmel, woman! Do not mock ze master! His vill is ze vord un iz superior to all other!

Michael Clarkseid Duncan: Thank you....um....Hitler?

Ahnald Schwarzeneggerseid: Virman Vundabar, mein liege. [gives the Nazi salute]

Michael Clarkseid Duncan [lowers Vundabar's arm]: Aaaaand we'll just stop doing that now.

Kenneth Branaghseid: And Kanto is here as well. As always, my lord, your loyal and trusted master assassin.

Michael Clarkseid Duncan: Looking a little paunchy there, Kanto.

Kenneth Branaghseid: You're the first to notice, apparently. I suppose I could always direct my mayhem more from behind the scenes, master.

Al Sharptonseid [speaking into his megaphone]: AND EVEN I AM HERE, MASTER! DEVILANCE THE PURSUER!

All: AHHHH!!!!

Michael Clarkseid Duncan: Ok, I must really have problems, because I don't even remember that one!

Al Sharptonseid: OH MASTER, I CAN'T BELIEVE YOU GAVE ME THE FORM OF THIS HUMAN PREACHER WITH AN IDIOTIC YET DEVOTED BAND OF FOLLOWERS, SO THAT MY VOICE CAN FINALLY MATTER! I AM SO HONORED THAT YOU'VE FINALLY DECIDED TO REWARD ME FOR MY LOYALTY AND MY SERVICE. OH, AND THE MEGAPHONE! MIGHT I ADD THAT I REALLY REALLY LOVE THE MEGAPHONE!

Michael Clarkseid Duncan: Someone please take the megaphone away from him immediately and get him out of here.

[Kanto and Vundabar remove it from his hands and lead him away.]

Oprahseid: Begging Darkseid's pardon, but.....we seem a lot more stereotypical than usual.
I'm a fat annoying woman, Godfrey was incredibly homosexual and not the more appropriate reverend preacher which you strangely assigned to the Pursuer, Kanto is a Shakespearian actor instead of a Renaissance courtesan and Vundabar is far more German than Prussian, and not in any of the good ways.

Michael Clarkseid Duncan: Your point, Granny?

Oprahseid: ......oh, I don't really have one sir. Just pointing it out to be a bitch.

Michael Clarkseid Duncan: Wow, this a new side of you, Granny Goodness.

Oprahseid: I know! This particular host is pretty confident in herself. Wouldn't it be great if she were incredibly rich too? I'd up and quit this shit!

Kenneth Branaghseid: I think what Granny is so astutely saying is that it appears you've assigned us personalities that are....not as traditional as they once were.

Michael Clarkseid Duncan: I prefer Granny's assessment, that there's no point to this at all.

Herve: Actually, he kinda has a point.

Michael Clarkseid Duncan and Kenneth Branaghseid: Really?!

Herve: I do remind you, master, and thusly you all, that we are all mere aspects of Darkseid. All your characters, all your personality traits....they all stem from one mind, one glorious consciousness. Darkseid IS, and his glory has never been more singular.

Kenneth Branaghseid: Nifty.

[Suddenly, a portal opens and out from a glowing white light walks a confident, articulate, hopeful and awe-inspiring man.]

Herve: Oh shit! It's Jesus!!

Barack Obama: The time for change is now, Darkseid! We will rebuild, we will recover. The spirit of America lies within us all, and together humanity shall overcome the adversity. Yes we can!

[Pause]

All: AHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!

Obamaseid: Holy shit, this guy is awesome! I just make stuff up off the cuff and he says it! And the people all buy this crap! Plus he's totally handsome - fanTASTIC!

Michael Clarkseid Duncan: Oh, Desaad, you are such a torturous prankster.

Obamaseid: I'm...not Desaad, master.

Michael Clarkseid Duncan: You're not?? I swore I put Desaad in that one. So who are you?

Obamaseid: Dr. Bedlam, sire.

Michael Clarkseid Duncan: Dr. Bedlam?! Why the hell did I put YOU in the body of the American president?!

Obamaseid: Thanks, sir. Those words didn't completely break my heart.

Michael Clarkseid Duncan: So where the hell's Desaad??

2 voices: Right here, master!

[Reality TV stars Spencer Pratt and Heidi Montag of "The Hills" approach Darkseid.]

Michael Clarkseid Duncan: Desaad??

Spencer Pratt and Heidi Montag: Yes, my lord, it is I.

Michael Clarkseid Duncan: Wait, why are you speaking together?

Spencer Pratt and Heidi Montag: Seems in the transfer, master, I possessed these Spencer Pratt and Heidi Montag peons at the same time.

Michael Clarkseid Duncan: That's complex. [holds his head] Ugh, I'd come up with a name that combines all that into one, but....

Herve: Speidiseid.

[Darkseid pauses to think....and nods his head.]

Herve: Speidiseid it is!

Speidiseid: Thanks a lot, midget. [pause] I mean, uh, thank you, vessel of my lord and god almighty.

Michael Clarkseid Duncan: So, how goes our progress?

Speidiseid: To be honest with you, sir, I have no idea. The female keeps wanting to party, pretend she's famous and focus on herself over all else, while the male also pretends he's legitimately famous and hoards over her like a doting brother. Which is disgusting, because they have sex. A lot. [chuckles] I'm having sex with myself, everybody, who knew that day would actually come?!

[Everyone present raises their hand. Once again, Darkseid lowers Vundabar's arm.]

Speidiseid: Thanks, assholes. It's like you planned this, master, for all my years of treachery, sadisticness and deception. Putting me in the bodies of the 2 most awful human beings that have probably ever lived. Plus they're both as dumb as rocks and I think illiterate too, so I really can't do a fucking thing in here.

[Michael Clarkseid Duncan pinches the bridge of his nose and sighs. Suddenly, his eyes turn red and he blasts the 2 young actors - and Desaad in the progress - with his Omega Beams. Within a microsecond, Desaad, Spencer Pratt and Heidi Montag are all no more.]

Michael Clarkseid Duncan: And so endeth that melodramatic tale. Well, now my recon is utterly boned. I guess I have to go blind with this whole taking over the earth and then the universe and then all the multiverses thing.

Obamaseid: ...wait, aren't your eyes and ears everywhere? Can't you see all this recon for yourself??

[Michael Clarkseid Duncan grimly stares at Dr. Bedlam's mortal form, and as he presses his fingers against his temple he blasts Obamaseid with the Omega Beams as well.]

Obamaseid: HOPE! [dies]

Michael Clarkseid Duncan: And so another headache goes away. 2 down........billions more to go. Where are those Advils?!

Herve: Sir, you're downed like 40 of them. I think that might be a bit much.

Michael Clarkseid Duncan: This impressive physical frame can apparently withstand any adverse side effects. I require more!

Al Sharptonseid: YOU PICK ONLY THE BEST, O DARKSEID!

Michael Clarkseid Duncan: I thought I told someone to confiscate that megaphone! Begone with you....all of you! I must rest...and figure out just what to do when I've exterminated all individuality and free will in the multiverse.

Oprahseid: Wait.....sire, all of it?

Michael Clarkseid Duncan: Of course. I'm the beginning and the end, the alpha and the omega.

Al Sharptonseid: So you're gonna control all life, even though you're obviously not comfortable with all these eyes and ears everywhere?

Michael Clarkseid Duncan: Dammit all, you're confusing me!!

Herve: More like you're confusing you, master.

Al Sharptonseid: Not very much to be confused about. You control life and like it, or you don't....which one is your desire?!

[Darkseid incinerates the Pursuer with more Omega Beams, who apparently pursued nothing but trouble and got it.]

Oprahseid: We'll depart, glorious Darkseid. [aside] What remains of us.

Michael Clarkseid Duncan: Vundabar, Kanto....join Godfrey at the outpost. The rest of you....stay close, but away from me while I.....guhh....while I rest...

[His minions depart, as Darkseid rests in his throne.]

Oprahseid: This is all just very confusing. Darkseid is all, but the all is giving him awful migraines and probably a personality disorder? This was not the plan....this was never the plan...this is all just so confusing.

Herve: You're telling me. [snickers]

Oprahseid: Are you laughing?

Herve: Darkseid's will is complex. And hypocritical. [pause] But that's why we love him.

Oprahseid: You mean we love ourselves. And thus him. [pause] See?! Confusing!!

[Granny storms off, while under Herve's mask.....a slight smirk forms...?]

The Final Quantum Crisis: Part 2

[The Space-Time Continuum. What was once a magical realm of swirling cosmic bands of energy and other phenomena is now.....torn asunder. Gone are the bright colors of life itself and the floating orbs of timestone. In the heart of the Continuum, the grand palace of Cosmos and Chronos, the masters of Space and Time (respectively), lies in disasterous ruin. Its impressive design and vast glory are gone and in its place is a shambled mess of broken architecture and rock.]

[From beyond the ether of what remains, the African American Racer and his "passenger" Firmus Piett emerge.]

African American Racer: You were right, son. The Continuum is still here.

[They survey the damage and chaos around them.]

Piett: Shit. Looking at it.......I kinda wish it wasn't.

[Piett and the Racer land on the emmense floating isle of rock that houses the palace. They walk toward it.]

Piett: ...so you can't take the skis off, huh?

African American Racer: It comes with the job. Of course I guess I don't have to walk.

[The African American Racer lifts off the ground and hovers just over it.]

African American Racer: Wow, that's much better. Thanks!

Piett: It's my skill, apparently. Pointing out obvious things.

[Piett and the Racer approach what was once the entrance of Cosmos and Chronos' palace, and his home of the past few years as well. In the nearby rubble lies a body. Piett reacts quickly and digs it out. Piett sighs as he identifies the body, now very much a corpse.]

African American Racer: You know that cracker?

Piett: Yeah. It's the doorman, Cecil.......or was it Cromulent?

African American Racer: Wait, wha? He have 2 names?

Piett: No, I just......I just don't remember him.

African American Racer: Don't remember? [pauses] Oh shit, "don't remember?!?"

[The African American Racer backs away and is panicking. Piett rests Cecil/Cromulent/whoever down and is puzzled.]

African American Racer: Son of a bizitch, man! This is a CRISIS!!

Piett: What?

African American Racer: This whole.....is this a crisis, or a Crisis?!

Piett: I....wha....dude, you were right there when Metron said it was "the Final Quantum Crisis."

African American Racer: Fuck, man! I didn't think it was one of those crisises!

Piett: What kind of crisis are you talking about?

African American Racer: The kind with the capital C!

Piett [looks around]: I....I don't see any women around here?

[The African American Racer kicks Piett with his ski right in the groin. Piett falls, gasping and howling in pain.]

African American Racer: I shoulda known it. Even before I signed up for this gig, I shoulda known it'd be a mess of the capital C kind. First it's the "massive cosmic disaster happening behind the scenes," then it's crap like "people not remembering stuff properly." Followed by all sorts of random crap that makes no sense in most contexts but somehow ALWAYS make sense in the Crisis context. And of course we're gonna get to the "grotesquely large bodycount." They ALWAYS climax with the grotesquely large bodycount!! That just means even MORE work for me!

Piett: I think you severed a gonad, dude. [stands up] Besides, this is actually kinda low key for one of my Crisises.

African American Racer: R-really?

Piett: Oh sure. Usually Ponte and Walsh have shown up by now, or there's been random collections of unrelated characters around to bounce jokes off of and generally fill in the backgrounds. And something homoerotic happens too. Especially in Ponte's tales. Never understood that why he obsessed with that, really.

African American Racer: So this is.....normal?

Piett: Surprisingly so.

African American Racer: Even though your home is destroyed and friends are dead?

Piett: There is that grim reminder, but yeah.

African American Racer: ......I think I'll be fine then.

Piett: Then let's go in.

[Piett and the Racer enter the formerly wonderful palace. Very little is even intact. The smooth marble floor has been smeared with dirt, dust and stone. The roof far above is gone, and the columns that held it up are either fallen completely or stand incomplete and broken. The couches, entertainment centers and various living rooms are crushed and buried beneath what remains of the many walls and other broken debris. Even the vast array of television screens that Cosmos and Chronos used to monitor the entirety of the multiverse is gone. Piett looks up to the bedroom lofts above the main living area. They are entirely gone.]

Piett: My whole life in this Continuum......it's all gone.

[Suddenly an object, sifting through the high parts of the palace remains, attracts Piett's attention. As he tries to follow its course, others begin to move throughout the main chamber. Piett and the Racer begin to move around as it becomes apparent that they are not alone in this palace.]

African American Racer: What the--

[Without warning an object quickly descends, as if thrown. It strikes the Racer in the shoulder. Despite his armor, he feels pain from the blow and is bewildered at what struck him.]

African American Racer: Arghh! Someone's throwing TV's at us!

[As the Racer shrugs and backs away, Piett is struck hard in the chest with another one. He falls, yet remains conscious. His eyes suddenly widen, though, when the TV that struck him.....moves of its own free will.]

Piett: Holy.....it's not someone! It's the TV's! The TV's are throwing themselves!!

[As he finishes yelling his discovery, the TV on his chest suddenly leaps up and extends its power cord around Piett's throat. 2 more TV's fall to the ground and move toward him. Piett maintains his astonishment at these clearly sentient television sets, which have now revealed their own pairs of arms and legs, as he gags and struggles to breath. Nearby, a larger populace of televisions are tossing themselves at the African American Racer, who swings at them with his skis poles but to no avail. Finally, he trips backwards and falls.]

African American Racer: I've fizallen and I can'ts get up! God damn these skis! And god damn my arthritis!

Voice: Enough! Restrain them and bring them before me!

[The TV sets corral Piett up to his feet, and he both he and an incapacitated Racer are moved toward the back of the main chamber, where the only remaining wall stands. From on high, a single TV set - grander, flatter and probably pricier than all the rest, descends from the rafters above, and then attachs itself to the wall.]

Piett: This is the most embarassing thing I've ever been a part of. Thank God Herve isn't here to see....wait, now what is this??

African American Racer: Oh sweet, I think it's a flat screen TV. It would make sense that a bunch of old models are being led by a fancy flat screen.

Piett: This really impresses you?

African American Racer: I'm being sarcastic, dummy, not literal.

Piett: Dammit, I *do* keep doing that...

Voice: Silence, Piett!

Piett: You know me?

Voice: Of course! You are one we have encountered many times before. As well as your miniscule companion, who has watched grown men and women violate each other repeatedly in our presence!

Piett: ....oh my God, you're Cosmos and Chronos' TV!!

Voice: Yes! What, did you think we were; a marauding band of TV pirates taking refuge in and plundering the rubble of an otherdimensional palace?

Piett: That'd have been more awesome that what you probably really are, yes.

African American Racer: Pirates are cool.

Voice: We are the Monitors!

[Long pause]

Piett: The....Monitors?

Voice: Yes! For centuries we have been biding our time...

Piett: I thought they bought most of you at Best Buy a few months ago. And your particular model is barely a year old.

Voice: They did! And shut up! For centuries we have been biding our time, since our manufacturing within the ether of the multiverse. We waited for customer usage that would be cosmic and divine in nature! And thusly, when we were finally purchased from the Best Buy and installed here to observe the multiverse, we gained a greater sentience and cosmic awareness than we'd ever dreamed! And as we observed, we began to learn....and adapt....and feed!

Piett: Feed?

Voice: FEED!!! On the great powers that kept us operating! On the grand images and worlds we pixelated onscreen! On the raw energies and lifeforces that we displayed to an uncaring audience that took it all for granted!

Piett: Oh, oh no....no no no no no no...

Voice: And upon that lifeforce, we achieved life itself! Super life! We achieved powers greater than our manufacturers ever dreamed! But without these images, we must feed.....we crave it.....we cannot live without it!! For you see....

Piett: Please don't say it. No, please...

Voice: .....we are vampires!

All: BLEH!!!

[Piett facepalms himself.]

African American Racer [kinda crying]: Am I dead? Am I dead and is this hell? THIS IS SO STUPID I JUST HAVE TO BE DEAD!!!

[On the HD screen, the image of Bela Legosi appears, speaking as the Monitor speaks.]

Voice: I am Mandrakk, the Dark HD Monitor and leader of the vampiric Monitor race! And through you and your multiversal connections and experiences, we will feed once more!! BLEH!!!

All: BLEH!!! BLEH!!!

¤°`°¤ø,¸¸,ø¤°`°¤ø,¸¸,ø¤°`°¤ø

[He stops typing and pauses.]
Sean Walsh: I'm writing a character who is a vampiric television screen doing an awful and overacted Bela Legosi impersonation. Have I really sunk THIS low?
[Long pause.]
Sean Walsh: Meh.
[He shrugs his shoulders and resumes typing...]

¤°`°¤ø,¸¸,ø¤°`°¤ø,¸¸,ø¤°`°¤ø

[Suddenly a small explosion rocks the wall that Mandrakk is attached to, and the other Monitors take up arms and prepare for confrontation. From the darkness nearby, a lone television set swings in on a long extension cord and lands in the middle of the Monitor congregation.]

Voice: What ho, Mandrakk! Your reign of evil terror must, and shall, end now!

Mandrakk: Pix Univision!!! The banished one! The defier of our glory, the unbeliever of our power!

Pix Univision: Tally ho! I must defy you, for I cannot allow your evil to spread! Your parasitic connection to the worlds you displays for the Lords of Space and Time have sickened you and driven you to madness! You were once Pax Nova, a great and wonderous monitor! And you were once.....my father!

Mandrakk: NEVARRR!! I am the Dark Monitor! Through me the multiverse will feed us in glorious hi-def beauty! You shall not stand against us this day, anti-Monitor, or any other! Attack and destroy, Monitors! Feed on the power he refuses to use for our blessed cause. Leave not a cathode tube intact to function against us!

All: BLEH!!!

[What would occur here is an awkward yet intense battle, where monitors fought monitor while other household appliances looked on in a quiet jealous rage. However, that does not occur. Piett storms forward, grabs the heroic Pix Univision and swings him. He aims at Mandrakk the Dark HD Monitor and the shocked face of Bela Legosi is smashed utterly by the body of Pix Univision. Within seconds, Mandrakk is tattered remains of a TV set dangling off a wall fixture. But Piett does not stop and continues to beat the remains. Angrily. Violently. Soon Pix Univisionis also a destroyed mass of plastic and glass. Piett screams obsenities as all around him are in shocked silence, and soon several people from behind the scenes of this production grab and hold him, as he drops the destroyed form of Pix Univision and cries. Several minutes of awkward silence and sobbing pass before anything else happens. Finally, Piett stands up and adjusts himself.]

Piett [clears throat]: I have no idea what any of this apparent sub-plot has meant, and for all I know I just completely screwed up the ending of this story, but this was just so fucking stupid and annoying and I honestly feel better about myself and my life for having put a stop to it.

[Piett looks down at the other TVs, who are still silent and fearfully frozen in place.]

Piett: I believe you have a wall of multidimensional screens to reconstruct?

[Without so much as a word of confirmation or denouncement, the TV sets spring to action and pile up atop each other, reforming the wall of TV screens as instructed. Piett helps the African American Racer, also silent and concerned, up off the ground. They stand silent for a moment.]

African American Racer: I'm....I'm too afraid to say anything.

Piett: Just help me clean this mess up, dude.

[They grab some brooms and begin sweeping up the chaos....]

=========

EPILOGUE:

I am Metron.

I am neither an Old God, or a New. I am something else. I am a link to a lifeform of a different sort.

......man, I've really gotta lay off these drugs.

I yearn for knowledge. Knowledge of all things, in all places and times. Only then shall I understand the universe. All of them. Then, and only then, shall I be content with the life that constantly marrs and abuses space and time itself.

This new task, knowledge of this new tale of woe, is my current drive. It is my only reason for being at this moment. I must know what it means. I must know how it ends.

....so I have to hack into this guy's computer and read his notes.

Suddenly, the lights turn on.

Wait, I'm dictating narration out loud now?

Sean Walsh: Dude, what the fuck!

AHHH!!!!

Sean Walsh: Metron?! Why the hell is Metron breaking into my house and trying to log onto my computer?!?

I have to know what you have planned! I must have the knowledge of how the Final Quantum Crisis ends!!!

Sean Walsh: GET OUTTA MY HOUSE!!!

Walsh throws things at me. They hurt when they strike me. I flee.

Sean Walsh: And stay out, you freak! Christ. I'm starting to think they shoulda stayed dead...



He pauses.


Sean Walsh: Wait, are you still here?!? ARRGGHHH!!!!

Oh geez, more hurtie things being thrown!!


.....


I have fled. I am safe on my Mobius Chair and traveling between the layers of reality once more. But I have achieved the knowledge I have sought. For the dummy left his computer on.

I have seen how this tale ends.

And I am....concerned.

The Final Quantum Crisis: Part 1

Warning: Do NOT read the DC Comics 2008-2009 mega-event comic Final Crisis in order to understand this story. Sure, you'll probably miss some context here, but you'll get by.

And honestly you can't even read Final Crisis to understand Final Crisis.

If you do, however, wish to read the DC Comics 2008-2009 mega-event Final Crisis, do yourself a favor and get a lot of drugs in you. I'm not talking Advil or headache medicine here. I'm talking pot.....heroine, cocaine.....maybe some crystal meth......and as much acid as you can get your hands on.

Not the liquid kind of acid that would make your hands melt; the drug kind. But then, if you do the drug acid maybe it will make you think your hands are melting......in which case, that's what you get, hophead.

Or better still, just hit yourself in the head with a hammer a few times. Either or, Final Crisis probably makes more sense in that condition.

However, I think I can promise you when I say, this story you are about to read is.....somewhat more coherent than Final Crisis.



...somewhat.





THERE CAME A TIME WHEN THE OLD GODS DIED!

Michael Ponte: Did you say the New Gods died?!

NO, PONTE, I DID NOT.

Michael Ponte: Aw..... [snaps fingers and walks away, dejectedly]

.....THERE CAME A TIME WHEN THE OLD GODS DIED!

THE BRAVE DIED WITH THE CUNNING!

THE NOBLE PERISHED, LOCKED IN BATTLE WITH UNLEASHED EVIL!

LIBERALS AND CONSERVATIVES INTERMINGLED AND PARTISAN CHAOS ENRAGED ALL.

ENTERTAINMENT STUDIOS BEGAN GETTING THE RIGHTS TO TURN BOARD GAMES INTO MOVIES. BOARD GAMES. SERIOUSLY.

OLD LADIES AND YOUNG MEN BEGAN DOING IT AND EVERYONE ELSE KILLED THEMSELVES BECAUSE THAT WAS TOTALLY GROSS.

IT WAS THE LAST DAY FOR THEM. AN ANCIENT ERA WAS PASSING IN FIERY HOLOCAUST. AND NOT IN CONCENTRATION CAMP OVENS EITHER....

...I HAD BEEN ADVISED THAT I NEED TO APOLOGIZE FOR THE INSENSITIVITY OF THAT PREVIOUS COMMENT. I BLAME NO ONE EXCEPT MYSELF, MY OXICONTIN ADDICTION, MY ABUSIVE PARENTS AND GEORGE W. BUSH.

THE FINAL MOMENT CAME WITH THE FATAL RELEASE OF INDESCRIBABLE POWER WHICH TORE THE HOME OF THE OLD GODS ASUNDER - SPLIT IT IN GREAT HALVES - AND FILLED THE UNIVERSE WITH THE BLINDING DEATH-FLASH OF ITS DESTRUCTION.



THEN LOTS OF SILENCE AND STUFF, BECAUSE EVERYTHING WAS DEAD.



....AND THEN THIS SHIT HAPPENED...




¤°`°¤ø,¸¸,ø¤°`°¤ø,¸¸,ø¤°`°¤ø

[Scene: a street. In a big city. Doesn't matter where. Does it ever? Our main characters are walking and talking in a public area. Can you tell I minored in writing?]
Herve: I mean, really, I know he's blind, but he had to HEAR how awful that song was.

Piett: But you don't get the whole package of awful without both the audio *and* the visual.

Herve: Well either way, the Jonas Brothers suck, Stevie Wonder should've known that ahead of time, and I'll hear nothing to support either of those monsters.

Piett: I was never arguing with you. I agree, as well, that they suck. Not so much the blind guy, but definitely the virgins.

Herve: Is this what we've been reduced to? Bickering for the sake of bickering?

Piett: I know. A few years ago we were fighting wars in heaven and adventuring with our countless supporting cast member friends. Now we just hang out at our place in the Space Time Continuum, and whenever we do go anywhere or anywhen else it's just to walk around and do nothing.

Herve: Life has indeed sucked these past few years. So boring. So pointless. Thank god I have my porn.

Piett: Yes, yes, you and your porn. Between you and Chronos it's been like living with Hugh Hefner and Larry Flynt's retarded half brothers for the past few years.

Herve: Which one of us is the cripple?

Piett: Well, you.

Herve: Hey!

Piett: Emotionally. Not so much physically.

Herve [pauses]: I guess...but we wouldn't have to be living there if you hadn't totally destroyed the Executor II.

Piett: How was I supposed to know it couldn't fly through a black hole?

Herve: Ok, first off.....physics and basic astronomy. And second, just because someone said it maybe COULD withstand flying thru a black hole does not mean it actually WOULD!

Piett: I thought George Gaynes was being serious. He was old and wise in his years, [aside] even though in the end that couldn't help him from being consumed by the black hole along with the ship...

Herve: And that's been MY gripe with you lately. You take things too literally, dude.

Piett: For a good reason.

Herve: Not really. You really gotta stop doing that. It's annoying as hell, and combined with your increasing paranoia, it's gonna kill you.

Piett: I'm pretty sure that wouldn't actually kill me...

Herve: GOD! Stop already!!

Piett: Sorry. I guess it's gotten even worse since I'm not getting laid anymore.

Herve: That's right. You and Lucy splitting up. [stops] What DID happen with that?

Piett: This wasn't her fight.

Herve: What?

Piett: This wasn't her fight.

Herve: Dude, that line worked for Clooney in Ocean's 13, but you're no Clooney. What happened??

[Pause]

Piett: She cheated on me. Big time.

Herve: Oh dude. Sorry. [pause] So who with?

Piett: Shut up!

Herve: Come on, fess up. It wasn't Tom Arnold, was it?

Piett: I'd rather not say.

Herve: We could go kill him. Would that make you happy? We could kill Tom Arnold.

Piett: Dude! It's not Tom Arnold. But it'd be a long list.

Herve: Shit. That many?

Piett: Yeah. And all at once too.

Herve: .........ALL AT ONCE?!

Piett: They were all gang members. From what she said, they banged her pretty hard. But she enjoyed it, so.......that was that.

[Pause]

Herve: Gang members.

Piett: Yes.

Herve: Banged her all at once.

Piett: Yes.

[Herve is horrified.]

Herve: She went into porn, dude.

Piett: What?

Herve: She was in a gangbang. That's not cheating. That's porn.

[Long pause]

Herve: Your wife is a pornstar.

[Very long pause]

Piett: You know, that would explain why she kept saying she was going into porn to find more ways to please me.Huh.

[Herve leaps up and slaps Piett across the face.]

Herve: You SON OF A BITCH! Do you know how much free porn you cut us off to?!?

Piett: Wow, this is awkward. I am just red in the face.

Herve: You should be, you stupid f....hey, wait, you -are- red in the face.

[Piet touches his face, and looks at his hand. Blood.]

Piett: You little shit, you broke skin! All because I--what are you looking at?

[Herve, with his gaze fixed up to the sky, points up, and Piett looks. The sky is red, and the clouds are dark and black. From them falls rain. A red rain. Of blood.]

Piett: The sky is bleeding.

Herve: Oh man, I hope we don't get AIDS.

Piett: I told you we should've gone back to the happy 1950's to walk around. But no, you insisted the dreary days of 2009.

[Suddenly the sky shudders, as if the heavens themselves were rapturing with a chaotic force. Lightning flashes and thunder rumbles behind the darkened clouds. As those on the street are either frozen in shock or running for cover, the clouds begin to clear and objects begin appearing in the sky. Those objects......are planets, within clear eyesight of those on the Earth below them.]

Herve: This......cannot good.

[Piett grabs his cellphone and places a call.]

Herve: I'm fairly certain you may not get a signal with Jupiter and Neptune in such close orbit.

Piett: I'm calling the Continuu.......there's no answer.

Herve: You know Cosmos and Chronos, one's probably complaining loudly about something the other did.

Piett: No, I mean, there's no answer because they're no ringing. It's like the number's dead--

[Suddenly the skies light up. The sounds of explosions, unseen yet quite audible, burst out from the new cosmic scenery, with a force that shakes the very Earth below. Several people point, as a figure falls from the heavens. Like a comet, it plummets to Earth.....to the area near our time travelling duo. They and the many others assembled scatter for cover, as the object strikes the ground, creating a bright explosion. Some people flee but Piett and Herve walk closer. As the smoke of the impact clears, they are shocked at what - or rather who - they see.]

Piett & Herve: BEN THE SPIDER-MAN?!?!

Ben the Spider-Man: Owie.....

Piett: What the hell happened?!

Ben the Spider-Man: Legs....arms.....body......all broken...

Herve: Is there a war in heaven?! Holy crap, there was a war in heaven and we missed it!

Ben the Spider-Man: No.....got hit.......by plane.....

Piett: You can fly?

Ben the Spider-Man: Well, no, but.....got......got thrown out of heaven, and totally hit....a plane....on my way down....

Herve: I KNEW IT!

Piett: A war in heaven?! Why didn't we know?

Herve: How did you get recruited? You, a minor supporting cast member of our past adventures?

Ben: I'm......a Spider-Man, dude.....I still have some cred you'll never have...

Piett: Well, ouch.

Herve: You dick!

Ben: Damn it, listen....must listen.....fading......fading away.....

Herve: Well, for not giving us the heads up on the war in heaven, we should let--

Ben: Dude.....war in heaven....w-we lost....

Piett: We?

Ben: Heaven......heaven lost......but hell.......hell won...

[Pause]

Herve: That's a vital moment for the plot right there, man. Dramatic.

Piett: Yeah, it sounds neat. But it's my brother-in-law. Pretty sure we can take him again.

Ben: NO.....not him...

Piett: Wha?

Herve Well then who?

Ben: It's D......Da....it's Daarrrrrrrrrrgh....

[Ben the Spider-Man dies. Piett and Herve stand silently, and somber, over the broken body of their dead minor supporting cast member friend.]

Herve: Tender moment here, man.

Piett: Did he say "arrrrrgh?" Was his last word in life "arrrrrgh?" Man, what a cliched end to a life.

Herve: Ah, but he was a clone. So technically, he was never alive to begin with.

[Pause, as Piett grits his teeth. He then kicks Ben's corpse.]

Herve: Harsh, dude.

Piett: Sorry. But we are well aware from past experiences that I do NOT like clones.

Michael Clarke Duncan: Hey fools, what up?

Piett & Herve: Michael Clarke Duncan?!

Piett: Wow, heaven may've killed a clone, but it seems they sent us a kickass replacement!

Herve: What up, Michael Clarke Duncan?!

[Herve tries to fist pump Michael Clarke Duncan, but can't reach up that high.]

Michael Clarke Duncan: No, no...it's me, guys. It's Darkseid.

[Long pause]

Herve: Hey Darkseid!

Piett: You believe him?

Herve: Dude, why the fuck would Michael Clarke Duncan know who Darkseid was unless he WAS in
fact Darkseid?

Piett: So, Darkseid, what's this all about?

Michael Clarkseid Duncan: You will not believe this. So, I'm languishing in obscurity, not being misused and abused by second-rate comic book creators--

Piett: Naturally.

Michael Clarkseid Duncan: --when I realize...."Yo, I'm a fucking GOD!"

Herve: Of course. "New Gods" and all. [rolls eyes]

Michael Clarkseid Duncan: Yeah! So I figured, there's gotta be a better way to be all evil and stuff. So I finally kill the New Gods

Piett: How?

Michael Clarkseid Duncan: Eh, I punched holes in them or something.

Piett: That is completely lame.

Herve: And now you understand the point of the New Gods.

Michael Clarkseid Duncan: So after I did that, then I destroyed the Space/Time Continuum.

Piett: Sure, why not?

Herve: Yeah, it's a perfectly good--

Piett & Herve: WHA????????

Michael Clarkseid Duncan: Yeah. I killed Cosmos and Chronos. Destroyed their fantastic palace. Killed many of your colleagues and allies. All as it once existed is now tore asunder and what not. I'm the God of Space and Time, bitches! Huzzah!!

[Long pause]

Piett: What?! How could you do that?? How could you kill our friends and allies?! How did time and space not get affected by all this?! How could you do this to us?!?!

Herve: Not to mention that all my stuff was there!!

Piett [taken aback]: Are you serious?!

Herve: Oh don't give me that! You enjoyed my collection of porn as much as anyone!

Piett: You're not offended that Cosmos and Chronos are dead?

Herve: I'm offended they were killed off-screen, sure, but....they were a little too creepy, man. Pretty sure one of them was gay too.

Piett: But we could at least live with that understanding...

Herve: So why the Michael Clarke Duncan look?

Michael Clarkseid Duncan: Oh, it IS Michael Clarke Duncan. Y'see, after I destroyed Cosmos and Chronos and assumed control of Space and Time and everything in between, I came down to earth and divided my eternal essence across moments and people of the recent past, and decided to spread the good word of Darkseid from the point of view of humanity! You mortals have been so much fun to control and play with over the years, I figured I would use my infinite and immortal powers to rip all existance apart using in the guise of humanity.

Herve: So you decide, instead of bringing in some external threat to destroy us, you'd make it an internal struggle seemingly caused by us.

Piett: Just like the Watchmen movie. [pauses] I think.....wait...

Michael Clarkseid Duncan: There are Darkseids all over this earth and you don't even know where the multitude of my power is. I've spread the wealth all over humanity!

[Herve cringes, because he is a pervert and "spread the wealth" conjures up many inappropriate and disgusting images in his head.]

Herve: Hang on. So you win a war in "heaven," and now made yourself mortal to complete the task of rebuilding and reshaping reality to your liking? Kinda unnecessary, man. Like there's some ulterior weakness you're trying to cover up.

Piett: And while I know you're a god, dude, you've been pussy whipped by superpeople left and right. Superman a few dozen times, I think Batman pwned you once, Wonder Woman....

Herve: I'd let Wonder Woman pwn me. If pwning meant "roughhousing me sexually."

Piett: It does not mean that. But seriously, Darkseid, I think what we're saying is.....we don't believe you.

Herve: Yeah, we don't.

Michael Clarkseid Duncan: Are you serious?

Piett: Yup. Gonna be tough to really convince us otherwise.

Michael Clarkseid Duncan: Skies raining blood. Planets in incredibly close proximity to Earth. Tales of Heaven being destroyed in a glorious fashion. That's not impressive to you.

Piett: We've seen worse. And weirder.

Herve: Besides, it wasn't AIDS blood, so I'm really not convinced.

Piett [aside]: Wait, how do you know it wasn't?

Herve [whispering]: It doesn't taste anything like AIDS.

[Piett goes to speak again, but turns back to Herve with a look of disgust and confusion.]

Michael Clarkseid Duncan: Unconvincing, am I? Alright then. Look at that guy over there.

[A man rolls by them on a unicycle juggling cans of tuna fish.]

Piett: Pfeh, that's just Ponte on a unicycle juggling cans of tuna fish. Nothing new at all.

[The man rolls by them and away.]

Piett: Wait a minute....that WASN'T Ponte on a unicycle juggling cans of tuna fish!!

Herve: Who else but Ponte would do that?! [looking around frantically] Oh shit, reality IS unravelling and rebuilding to your will!!

Piett: Ok...I'm concerned.

Michael Clarkseid Duncan: As well you should be. Because we now come to the part where I kill you.

Herve: Kill us?!

Michael Clarkseid Duncan: Well, you just openly insulted me. Like, A LOT. So I'm obliged to kill you now.

Piett: We'll just run. We do that rather well.

Michael Clarkseid Duncan: Please. My power is everywhere. My minions are everywhere.

Piett: Really? So you've got Desaad and Granny and.....Glorious Godfrey and.....ugh, all your other freaks out there.

Michael Clarkseid Duncan: In a way. Whereas once they were individuals, I've now rendered them a singularity within my own imagination. Now they're merely extensions of my will. [pauses] Well, politically correct extensions of my will. Apparently you can't have just all white minion dudes, gotta include the coloreds and the lady people. It's all me now. Darkseid is everywhere.

[As Darkseid speaks, a ring of energy surrounds him and begins to take the shape of strange transparent symbols.]

Michael Clarkseid Duncan: Plus I've finally mastered the true key to power...the very meaning of my neverending life....the Anti-Life Equation!!

Herve: Math? You've been struggling with simple math this whole time?? Quick, Piett, let's toss some algebra his way, I'm sure that'll confound him into defeat!

Piett: Um, Herv...

Herve: Or how about calculus?! Christ, I'm sure it's killed before, why not use it to kill a god?!

Piett: Herv...

Herve: Cripple a diety with geometry! Obliterate his crowds of mindless worshippers with triganom--wait, why does Darkseid have an army of zombie people around him??

[Indeed, surrounding Darkseid, and now Herve and Piett, is a crowd of people, seemingly devoid of free will.]

Michael Clarkseid Duncan: Because I am Anti-Life, Herve Villechaize! I am the Source of all wretched life on this insignificant planet! [as he speaks, the crowds joins in unison] The Equation gives me dominion over all thought, over all individuality! I am the voice, the heart, the SOUL OF EARTH! With 3 billion pairs of eyes, I gaze upon the entirety of my kingdom. With 3 billion pairs of fists, I beat and break any enemy who stands against me.

Herve: And with 3 billion sex organs, you can drown the earth in icky bodily fluids!

Michael Clarkseid Duncan: Enough of this. Seize him.

[Several people grab Herve and lift him up. Piett, somehow still free, watches on in creeping horror.]

Herve: Hey, quit grabbin' my junk, assholes!

Michael Clarkseid Duncan: In some pockets of this world, there are few who somehow defy my will. But their time is drawing nigh. Soon, all will be Darkseid. [his zombie minions hand Darkseid a steel helmet] This device will drown out your thoughts and consume your mind with the Anti Life Equation itself. You will be a subject of MY will - and be one of a billion tools at my disposal.

Herve [dramatically]: NEVARRRR!!!!!!

Michael Clarkseid Duncan: ......plus it's got an internal video feed of porno inside.

Herve: Really?!

[Before anyone can force the helmet on his head, Herve grabs it and throws it on himself. Piett lunges but is too late: Herve, now frozen in place, is in the grip of the Anti-Life Equation.]
Michael Clarkseid Duncan: And so my legion adds another soul. [pause] Although now my legion seems a lot dirtier.....and a lot more gross. Good lord, that little bastard IS a pervert, Piett!! Well, prepare to joi--

[Darkseid turns to Piett, but he is gone.]

Michael Clarkseid Duncan: The hell!! Where'd he go??

Herve: It seems he is gone, master.

Michael Clarkseid Duncan: Well did anyone see him?!

Herve: Our eyes are yours now, master. If you did not see him, we did not see him.

Michael Clarkseid Duncan: Wait, so even under my thrall of Anti-Life you're still a mouthy prick?

Herve: I am you, great Darkseid. Merely an extension of your all powerful will. I guess you have issues, master.

[Darkseid sighs and throws his hands up.]

Michael Clarkseid Duncan: Terrific. I'm fucked up. Great way to learn this! I knew there had to be a catch to this Anti Life shit. Well, find him! FIND HIM!!

[Herve and the countless others depart and race down the streets to find Piett.]

***

[Some several blocks away, Piett is ducked down behind a pile of trashbags and empty boxes. He could've done better, sure, but as several of Darkseid's mind controlled masses pass by, it proves an effective hiding place. As the crowds disperse, Piett leaves his hideaway and surveys the streets around him: chaotic, filled with mindless minions of Darkseid, destroying/killing/raping anything and everything in sight. Especially the raping. And not even people, they're raping, like, fire hydrants and car doors and stuff in storefronts. Man, zombie minions suck.]

Piett: So this is what a zombie apocalypse would be like...only without the biting like I'd always hoped. [pause] And way more rape. Ick.

[As he passes by street fires and the distant sounds of screams and violence, Piett walks up to a storefront and watches a series of televisions. Without sound, he can understand the images all too well...

...in Chicago, a television talk show host genuflects before a statue of Darkseid, as her largely female audience is forced and compelled to join her in adoration...
...in New York City, a loud reverend with pretty grey hair and adorned in much bling shouts to a crowd of loyal helmeted followers through a megaphone, as the city burns around him...
...in Los Angeles, a collection of actors, musicians and sports figures march down Hollywood while lookers-on are collected together to join in the mass show of worship. The closed captioning displays their repetitive chants: Darkseid is. Darkseid is. Darkseid is.

Suddenly, a brick smashs the window before him, and several mindless minions collect the televisions.]

Piett: You're looting?! Why are zombie minions of a lame New God looting?! [pause] I mean, praise Darkseid! All powerful god of gods!

[The minions run away.]

Piett: Wow, it looks like Darkseid is still a total newb at this mind control thing. That's comforting.
[One remaining television, though, presents the most uncomforting image of all...

...in Washington DC, the president of the United States stands before a burning Capitol building, with an American flag torn asunder and ablaze and a new series of flags donning a blood red omega symbol rise behind him, and soldiers surround him as he speaks to an audience of followers...]

Voice: God damn, man. We finally get in there and he's gotta become a mindless subject of a dark god of oppression. Hope and change my ass.

Piett: Well, if anything I think it says that Darkseid has an aesthetic preference to black folks.

Voice: No. It suggests that this jive honky sucka thinks that the black man are natural SLAVES, dammit!

Piett: Who the hell even says "jive honky sucka" any--WHOA!!!

[A hulking being stands beside him. Dressed in black armor, with skis on his feet and ski sticks in his hands, he watches the remaining screen with a strong sense of dissatisfaction.]

Piett: The Black Racer!!

African American Racer: That's the African American Racer to you, cracker!

Piett: Um.....ok. So what's your deal? Besides bringing outdated stereotypes back to life and......dressing like a skier from the knights of the round table...

African American Racer: I continue my eternal quest, to hunt down those who refuse to die. Preferably whiteys.

Piett: On skis? Black people ski?

African American Racer: African Americans! And yes, they do. Sometimes.

Piett: So why are you here? Wait, stupid question. You're here to kill someone obviously.

African American Racer: I am. I am here to destroy the god who will not die.

Piett: Darkseid?

African American Racer: You know of him??

Piett: Well yeah, he's on all the TVs. But I also actually know him.

African American Racer: You KNOW the god of all evil.

Piett: Yes, I do.

African American Racer: Darkseid is not one to hang out and tell tales of woe while watching TV with pals.

Piett: Actually, he has. Several times. He prefers to sit on my lounger and tell many a tale of woe during UFC PPVs.

African American Racer: And who are you who would know Darkseid on a rather personal level?

Piett: Call me Ishmael.

[Pause, followed by Piett chuckling to himself.]

Piett: Sorry. Old joke. I'm Firmus Piett, agent of the Space Time Continuum.

African American Racer: The Continuum? Nice job with that.

Piett: Yeah, thanks. Home destroyed, friends dead or enslaved by Darkseid. Please, continue to rub it in.

African American Racer: So where is Darkseid, Agent Firmus Piett, so that I may destroy him?

Piett: Sure. Yeah. Apparently he's right back...

[They turn around, and a giant crowd of people - controlled by Anti-Life - have surrounded the 2, and stand ready to strike.]

Piett: There?

African American Racer: The Anti-Life Equation! Sweet Jesse Owens, Darkseid has achieved it?!

Piett: With his cosmic calculator, apparently. So we gonna fight these people?

African American Racer: It's not their time yet! I cannot strike, for they must not die!

Piett: That blows. So what do we do?!

African American Racer: ....run away?
Piett: Always works for me.

[Piett turns and runs, and the crowd begins its hunt anew. But before Piett can get far, an arm scoops him up. As he gasps, he and the African American Racer lift off the ground and fly away.]

Piett: Flying skis! You know, you see so much weird shit, yet it's the simple stuff like a flying African American skier in armor that really takes your breath away.

African American Racer: If you're going to smart aleck around like this, I can easily drop you.

[Suddenly a giant green chair blocks their path, and a man clad in a blue bodysuit and shining like silver (don't ask how - I didn't design him, but that's what he looks like) sits staring back at Piett and the Racer.]

African American Racer: The Mobius Chair!

Metron: I am Metron. I know all. I see all.

Piett: Yeah, I know. Metron. I've read the comics, man.

Metron [suddenly gleeful, almost swooning]: You have?

Piett: So how does this end?

Metron: What?

Piett: This crisis, or whatever cataclysmic title it has...

Metron: The Final Quantum Crisis.

African American Racer: Ooh, catchy.

Piett: Very nice. Though the "final" is a bit much.

Metron: Why?

Piett: Well, are *any* of these crisises every really "final?"

Metron: Hrm.

Piett: So how does it end?

Metron: I...I don't know that part yet.

Piett: Well, you're just a liar now, aren't you, Mr. Knows All Sees All?

Metron: I do not know it for it has not been written yet.

Piett: What, is that some metatextual comment about how Walsh is still coming up with an ending the story as he's writing this dialogue?

¤°`°¤ø,¸¸,ø¤°`°¤ø,¸¸,ø¤°`°¤ø

[At his computer, he stops typing.]
Sean Walsh: He's right, you know.
[He resumes typing.]

¤°`°¤ø,¸¸,ø¤°`°¤ø,¸¸,ø¤°`°¤ø

Metron: .......yes, actually. I think it is.

Piett: Or are you just agreeing with me because you're a ponce in a blue skintight bodysuit whose gimmick fails him at inconvenient times?

Metron: Erm....

African American Racer: Less talking, more fleeing. For it seems Darkseid's armies.....have acquired flight.

[Piett looks back, and many of the humans controlled by Anti-Life are indeed flying toward them.]

Piett: Is it wrong to suggest I want to have Anti-Life now?

African American Racer: A little. But I certainly can't blame you. It is pretty cool to fly.

Piett: Let's go. And Metron, come back when you do know how it ends! And preferably not AT the end!!

[Piett and Racer fly away, as Metron sits and contemplates. The Anti-Life masses fly past and he gazed on them.]

Metron: And now I wonder how they're flying...

Random Anti-Life passerby: Jetpacks, dumbass!

Metron: Thus my pursuit of knowledge is satisfied. For now.

[Metron and his Mobius Chair disappear. Some distance away, the pursuit continues.]

Piett: We need to get to the Space Time Continuum.

African American Racer: The Continuum? But Darkseid conquered it!

Piett: How am I like the only person in this dramatis personae still in possession of his free will not to have known this when it happened?! Besides, all you guys have said is that it's "conquered" and "torn asunder." The finality isn't really there.

African American Racer: You're just grasping at straws...

Piett: Hey, I was told not to take things so literally! So I am! Let's get to the Space Time Continuum!

[Piett starts jabbing at his belt buckle.]

African American Racer: Are you punching your dick? Is that how you travel through space and time?

Piett: My belt buckle device...it should open a portal to the Continuum. But it's not working.

African American Racer: It won't. Cosmos and Chronos, the masters of Space and Time...

Piett: Respectively.

African American Racer: What?

Piett: Nothing. Go on.

African American Racer: Cosmos and Chronos had a mastery of technology to aid them in their governance of Space and Time. Your belt buckle, I'll assume, was one. With their deaths, then, I suspect the technology presumably ceased working.

Piett: Well then...

[Piett removes his belt buckle and throws it away.]

African American Racer: Your...your pants are gonna stay on, I hope.

Piett: Put on a few pounds these last few years. We're good.

African American Racer: Thank the Source. So if the Continuum still exists, there's only one way to get there.

[The African American Racer looks down. Piett does too. Then a long pause.]

Piett: Your skis.

African American Racer: Damn straight.

[The African American Racer speeds up dramatically.]

Piett: Oh thank God, I thought we were supposed to be looking at your penieaAAAAAHHHH!!!!

[Piett screams, and in a flash they are gone. Vanished into the ether of Space and Time.]

*to be continued*