Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

It began many moons ago, with a website known as TV Tropes. Beloved by many media-obsessed nerds, the wiki catalogued tropes used in various forms of media, from anime to video games to theme parks to commercials to… basically anything, all with a quirky, irreverent tone. Some pages were ‘Self-Demonstrating Pages’ - pages that were entirely examples of the very trope they described. And if a certain fictional character had a voice deemed ‘unique’, tropers could create Self-Demonstrating character pages - written as if the character themself made them. Tropers’ imaginations went wild, and hundreds of character pages were created. Though not all pages lasted, the concept remained a hit. 

And eventually, a new idea struck the TV Tropers: what if these characters interacted with one another? Who would object to seeing some of the greats of pop culture finding kindred spirits, engaging in clashes of ideals, or simply mocking one another?

“HAHAHAHA! That’ll teach those third-rate knockoffs not to cramp my style!” cackled a deranged-looking clown in a fit of laughing insanity. “If only Bats were here to witness all the wonderful chaos I helped start!” So boasted DC Comics’ most iconic villain, the arch-enemy of Batman, the infamous murderous clown who had graced virtually all adaptations of The Dark Knight, and the owner of one of the oldest self-demonstrating pages on the index. The Joker.

“Shut up, clown! At least I’m the relatable one!” retorted an anthropomorphic octopus with the voice of Rodger Bumpass. “Literally half the users on this mind-melting site have annoying neighbors to deal with and/or a dead-end job sucking all the joy out of their miserable lives! And as for you? How many serial killers do you think use this site?” 

“Oh, come on, Squiddy, why so serious?” the Clown Prince responded. “Life is way more fun with a little anarchy. Maybe that’s what you need in your miserable little life!”

The Joker reached for his knife when, suddenly, a pixelated, long-legged star somehow happened upon the scene..

“These pages are Pissing me off… I’m the original        Starwalker”

The clown and the octopus just stood there in abject silence before resuming their quarrel. They had no idea what this sentient walking star was doing there, nor why it seemed so pissed off, but they didn’t care. Not like they had any reason to, even for all the weird things they’d seen in their lifetimes. But, this ‘Starwalker’ seemed oddly fixated on something beyond the arguments of two vastly different characters, as if he was searching for something – or someone.

“Those ingrates REFUSE to recognize my absolute genius!” yelled the unmistakable, inimitable Dr. Ivo "Eggman" Robotnik, slamming his fists on the nearest control console. “I spent HOURS thinking of those insults towards the other kooky characters here on this wiki, only for those blasted ‘administrators’ to cut it down! TWICE!” Yes, it was indeed the infamous arch-enemy of Sonic the Hedgehog, noted for his scientific prowess… and constantly getting his butt handed to him by that blue blur. “Well, at least those 'geniuses' were smart enough to get rid of his own page!” 

“Easy there, Humpty Dumpty,” replied the one-eyed copepod known as Sheldon J. Plankton: 1% evil, 99% hot gas, and an equally long-suffering evil scientist from Bikini Bottom, bent on global domination via Krabby Patty secret formula. “It seems you people don’t appreciate my 'creative naming skills' – OUCH!” 

At Robotnik’s command, a Badnik stomped on the snarky copepod for daring to liken him to a simple nursery rhyme character. He was Dr. Ivo Robotnik, rightful RULER of Mobius. Sure, ‘Eggman’ was once used by that blue hedgehog as a childish insult towards the doctor, but the moniker was now only acceptable because he chose to claim it as his own and use it as a symbol of fear! No other nickname would do. “How many times have I told you, Sheldon, NEVER use your dumb nicknames for me EVER again!” yelled the good doctor at his cohort. While the two of them were good friends in this merged world, they weren't above making each other suffer for the sake of physical comedy.

“Okay, fine,” protested Plankton, “just as long as you don’t call me 'Sheldon' again, Eggy!”

But then, someone walked in and achieved the impossible – namely, bringing peace between Eggman and Plankton.

“THERE’S TOO MANY FUCKING JEWS AROUND HERE! Seriousleh, why can’t I even escape them here?!”, protested the infamous Eric Cartman of South Park fame. “I can’t walk a single step in any direction without being tempted to EXTERMINATE THEM ALL!” Even in a town full of idiots, this boy somehow topped all that by being the biggest bigot of them all.

Eggman gasped as he turned to the tiny tyrant.. Cartman’s tirades of bigotry were enough to turn even fiction’s most abhorrent villains against him, and Eggman was no exception. “Avast! A racist 9-year-old! Are you thinking what I’m thinking, Plankton?” The two villains, rightfully disgusted with Cartman’s extreme antisemitic tirade, simply locked eyes on the boy and tapped him lightly with their respective hands. For all his bigoted bluster, Cartman was unable to take punishment of any sort and immediately burst out in tears as he wailed loudly. “MAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHMMMMMMM!!! MEEEEEEEEEEEEEEMMMMMM!!!”

Yes, for the most part, there was some level of peace — cartoonish violence against a few of the characters, but nothing too serious. At least, not at first.

Unsurprisingly, it was the villains who typically decided they couldn’t stand one another. How could they operate, knowing that there was a genuine threat to their power? Or at least, in the eyes of some. One such being who posted a page was Darkseid: Lord of Apokolips. To all others, he was many things, but to himself, he was a god; the greatest threat of the DC Universe and the most powerful force to be reckoned with. In his mind, all were inferior before his might. Why bother with contending with such fools? Still, some of them had little brain to their name – and so he boasted, “I have seen many of the beings on this pathetic website: would-be tyrants, meager criminals, beings who claim to be gods and think they are in total control but are mewling whelps barely weaned from the teat, and especially that pale imitation of me."

This boast did not sit well with one Yuuki Terumi of BlazBlue, a cruel force who sought no less than the destruction of everything and everyone around him. To him, Darkseid was the false pretender to the name of a god. “Who the fuck you callin' a mewlin' whelp you crusty muthafu-” he attempted to boast before his mouth was silenced. 

“I WOULDN'T RECOMMEND TICKING OL' ROCKY OFF, YUUKI-BOY. HIS EYES ARE ALREADY RED WITH RAGE!” spoke Bill Cipher, another being of great power and a triangle-shaped dealmaker noted for his one eye. He had previously attempted to unleash Weirdmageddon, but even his efforts proved futile. Even he knew better than to try and anger the embodiment of tyranny. Fortunately for them, the three villains were separated by an adequate amount of physical space, as Terumi was jailed at the moment and Cipher was trapped in the Theraprism as he was at the end of Gravity Falls.

The heroes, too, found that the more devilish among them were also likely to attempt to unleash their brand of chaos upon the new world. Down in Bikini Bottom, one Eugene H. Krabs, the crustacean proprietor of the Krusty Krab restaurant, was shocked to discover one of his customers was none other than Eric Cartman -cussing, swearing, and demanding that he be allowed to eat in the restaurant for free.

“Hey! You greedy fucking crab! You best lemme eat here free now, cause I declare this diner is now the official lunch room! RESPECT MY AUTHORITAH! And anyone who’s Jewish, get the fuck out of here!”

Krabs’ blood began to boil over. He may have his flaws, sure, but Cartman… that little snot was just the worst of the bunch. At least these new villains that kept popping up had some excuse as to why they were such horrible people, but this lubber clearly knew what he was doing and didn’t care.

“What's this? Did that intolerable brat from the network's other sister channel get into me restaurant? Ye have no ‘authoritah’ here, boyo! ...wait, yer the one who made one of yer classmates eat his own parents over $16.12, aren’tcha?!? GREAT BARRIER REEF!”

“Yep!” Cartman replied. “And Tenorman deserved it for bein’ an evil fucking ginger! His tears were delicious.”

“And I thought some of these landlubbers didn't like the fact I once sold SpongeBob's soul for 62 cents…” continued Mr. Krabs, Still, he had no choice but to grab the lad by the throat, chuck him out of the Krusty Krab, and slap a ‘BANNED FOR LIFE’ sign on the door, yelling “Alright, outta here, scallywag! I never want ter see yer face around here EVER again!”

“FUCK YEW!” cried out Cartman, as he grabbed an axe. “I’m gonna smash this shit pile to the ground!” Of course, before he could, a giant hand grabbed him and tossed him up to the surface like a paper airplane. 

Even amongst the innocent, arguments sprouted here and there. The mustachioed conductor of the Polar Express – a proud railroader named ‘James’ who was tasked with bringing children to the North Pole aboard a magical Christmas train – was once such a chap. He took pride and joy in his old machine and made sure that she kept to schedule. Nothing would stop him from arriving on time, not even the threat of a frozen lake! He had hoped that with this train, he could offer some comfort in trying times to the younger visitors and take them to see Santa Claus. 

Yet, even kindness could spur on rivalries, for another railroader was present on the website: Gordon the Big Blue Engine, a sentient locomotive from the Island of Sodor – one of the few characters from preschool-based properties that made his way onto TV Tropes. At first, he was the sole railroader on here, and didn’t take too kindly when this hideous, faceless engine showed up! Naturally, he took it upon himself to make the journey to the North Pole himself. So one night, when James stopped the train to pick up some tropers, Gordon snuck his way in and coupled up front, thinking it was his turn to shine. But James was far from pleased - when he caught the express engine trying this stunt, he marched up to him and made his words clear.

“YOU!” cried out the Conductor. “I have told you once, I have told you a thousand times, under no circumstances is anyone from your little island allowed to handle the route of the highest priority train on CHRISTMAS EVE! Leaving your... poor safety record aside, it is a known FACT that your line has the worst on-time performance in history. Now, you go back home and tell your boss that this route will ONLY be pulled by the best until he gets his act together. So, get off the mainline before I report you FOR DELAYING TRAFFIC!”

An incensed Gordon could only reply, “Oh, the indignity! I could pull this special express faster and more efficiently than your poorly-built American engine!” With no choice, he left the train in a huff, figuring it was better to just let them go on their way; they wouldn’t get very far without him. 

“Poorly built, my foot…” groused James. He quickly yelled out as his rival departed, “1225’s A LOT BETTER THAN YOU, YOU DONCASTER REJECT! SIR GRESLEY’S SPINNING IN HIS GRAVE BECAUSE OF YOU!” Oh boy, did ol’ Gordon not take that well. The nerve of that conductor! Well, one of these days he’d show him!

Nevertheless, friendships came to be. Squidward, in all his loneliness, found a peaceful little corner of the universe called ‘Sesame Street’ – another preschool series, no less – and found himself a true friend. For it was on one part of the street that he found a silver trash can, and within it, a strange creature who called himself Oscar the Grouch. It seemed like an unlikely friendship, given that this curmudgeon seemed not to want any attention and to just be left alone with his trash, but the two were quick to hit it off. 

“I might have found a kindred spirit here. He rightfully praises my clarinet playing, and we can both commiserate about how we hate everything! Guy could use a little cleanliness, but I'll take it.” Squidward sighed in relief.

Even the miserly old grouch was touched and said, “Heh heh heh! Thanks, buddy! Maybe I should set up a new trash can here in Bikini Bottom! Hey, next time Sponge and Pat come around, how about we both yell at them to ‘SCRAM!’ in unison?”

“Sounds like a deal!” Squidward replied.

“And I hope you'll like hanging out with Miss Power too.” Oscar continued. “She's just as stinky as me!”

“Miss Power?!” asked Squidward. “You mean… her?!” 

The two green guys’ gaze shifted a very long distance to a wild-looking blonde girl with horns destroying a Devil with a large hammer made out of blood, showering herself with gore. “THE GLORY OF THE KILL IS MINE! I AM THE STRONGEST AND SMARTEST BEING IN THE UNIVERSE! GYA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA!” screamed the Blood Fiend Power, hoisting her hammer triumphantly. Power was the breakout star of Chainsaw Man, and now that she knew about her fame, it definitely didn’t help the Blood Devil’s delusions of grandeur.

Squidward shielded his eyes. “Uhh… I’ll have to get back to you on that one.”

“Yep, she’s the exact opposite of 'kid-friendly,” Oscar added as they stared at the character from an R-rated property. “There’s a reason I’m fine coming to her place, but not the other way around…”

“Seek my presence, you have. Welcome, reader. May the Force be with these tropes…”

Perhaps even more heartwarming, the tropers themselves found appreciation from the pages. One such page was that of a small green alien with a strong aptitude for the Force - the one and only Jedi Grand Master Yoda. His wisdom and compassion were boundless, and readily shared with his visitors.

“Now, gained wisdom, you have. Go forth, but be wary of the Dark Side, you must. May the Force be with you...always.”

And so it was… at least, for a time. Heroes, villains, and everyone in between could dispense wisdom and insults - so long as they had a ‘unique voice’. This was no object for many. The Joker’s maniacal tendencies mixed in with Squidward’s overall grouchiness, contrasted against Krabs’ greed and pirate speak, Gordon’s sophisticated ego, and Cartman’s… well, colorful way of thinking ensured they could stay.

However, not all could agree on this contentious topic.

“THOSE TROPERS!” yelled out a diminutive, bespectacled health insurance CEO – Gilbert Huph, an infamous peddler of scam insurance from The Incredibles. “They have NO RIGHT to try and instigate all this chaos by just giving ‘ThEiR fAvOrItEs’ a voice! And then, they decide to INSULT OUR MODERATORS WHEN WE WARNED THEM THIS WOULD HAPPEN?! UNACCEPTABLE! Daring to use me to mock them was the LAST STRAW! Well, that little mistake won’t ever happen again! Let’s see how they like it when they can only make the pages by OUR RULES!”

Unfortunately, for some bizarre reason, Huph had some amount of authority here that went beyond the scope of his usual job.. Soon, the Self Demonstrating index became not a place of fun, but of stringent bureaucracy. No longer were any of the characters allowed to interact with one another, unless they had done so in ‘official’ crossover works, as those in charge deemed such against their ‘no-fanfiction’ policy. Even then, said interactions were often scrubbed anyway.. Objectors were silenced, and even those who had given their all were exiled as punishment for daring to defy their will. The idea of continuing onward under these ‘rules’, ill-defined as they were, made the future of this project very uncertain.

Fortunately, despite – or because of – those seeking to destroy it, the Self Demonstrating Index had grown so big, it had become its own world; the world of Earth-10224. Now, all of fiction had merged into this singular reality, free from those who would restrict its creation. This world could run wild in ways it never could on TV Tropes, again able to express their own unique voices as they built friendships and formed alliances.. Creativity could be fostered, far from those who had sought to restrict it.

“WHAT?! THEY MOVED TO AO3?!” Huph screamed in unrelenting fury. “THAT’S IT! I WILL NOT STAND FOR THIS! THERE WILL BE NO MORE CHAOS FROM THOSE TROUBLEMAKERS ANY LONGER! I’ll see to it myself! Insuricare is in a healthy partnership with TV Tropes, and their property will be reigned in no matter what it takes!”

But let us leave Huph to his ramblings for now. From this point forward, this tale would find itself upon three voices, ‘unique’ in truly the most sincere sense of the word and “voices” in the most literal sense.  In the modern day, in the glistening metropolis of Seoul, South Korea, their adventure was about to–

“Ah, ah, ah! I think you’re forgettin’ something REALLY damn important, pal.”

A man in a red-and-black superhero costume and mask walked on, dual katanas strapped to his back and twin guns holstered at his waist – Wade Wilson AKA Deadpool, beloved fourth-wall-eviscerating Marvel anti-hero, and proprietor of one of the other oldest Self-Demonstrating Character Pages on TV Tropes. 

“Lemme take it from here, okay?” Deadpool continued in Ryan Reynolds’ familiar tones. “As much as I’m excited to see more from Netflix’s newest cash cow that the authors suddenly all found themselves enamored with (I’ve listened to ‘Golden’ 141 times at this point!), this whole shindig started because of one of my proudest accomplishments.”

But, Deadpool, you didn’t even participate all that much – you only showed up at the end.

“Yeah, well, desecrating the corpse of one of the most hated fictional characters in history IS an accomplishment, amirite? Even if I showed up a bit late to actually do the deed that led to that.”

Alright, I guess that counts. ‘Sides, nobody except a total square would turn down a gratuitous cameo appearance from you anyway, so go on.

“Whew! Thanks a bunch,” Deadpool continued. “Anyway, once upon a time, there was this bloodthirsty purple robot dinosaur on the site who got pissy anytime someone compared him to, or nicknamed him after, a much less cool but much less murderous fellow purple dinosaur. Megsy was all like ‘if that cretin so much as creates his own page and/or wanders into this domain and/or whatever other allegory we’re going to use here to symbolize his getting a self-demonstrating page in real life, I will slaughter him and convert his home into a Predacon base, yeeeesssssss.’”

That wasn’t half bad for a David Kaye impression, actually.

“Thank you! I do parties, weddings, bar mitzvahs, and funerals too,” the Merc with a Mouth said as he took a bow. “So, the being in question, having literally no brain in his oversized noggin, waltzes onto the site and causes a huge blood-soaked clusterfuck that you now know as The TV Tropes Character Crossover War, much to the chagrin of the tightwads who moderate the site.”

“But who am I talking about? Well, none other than the dumbest, worst, most despicable, most horrifying creature in the universe – if you’re a fourth-grader, parent, or babysitter in the ‘90s, OR if you happen to be living in the universe of this fic. Yes, sirree, I’m talking about the one, the only, the dreaded… Barney the Purple Dinosaur.”

Chapter Text

It began like any other day – quiet, unassuming, peaceful. There was certainly nothing to suggest that on that very day, everything would change-

“Yeah, we both know that’s a fucking lie,” interrupted Deadpool. “Hi, it’s me again. So uh… yeah, yours truly kinda got a big bump up in the snide commentary department, no thanks to rewrite 3.0 – which, fyi, we’re callin’ the ‘Golden’ edition for reasons that will become painfully obvious in the next chapter.” He clasped his hands. “Ok, might wanna sit yourselves down for this one, alright? This is gonna be one of those chapters.”

Wait, you don’t mean…?

“Yeah, I mean that chapter,” replied the Merc With A Mouth. “See, for all those who’d been paying attention, the Self Demonstrating Index on TV Tropes was grossly affected by a certain moronosaurus rex who answers to the name of Barney the Dinosaur. If you don’t know him, you’re about to. If you do, which you probably do, considering it was middle school tradition to sing about BBQing his head, then you know he has a bad tendency to ruin everything.”

Isn’t that a bit of an exaggeration, Wade?

“Is it?” he snarked back. “Or does it change the fact that when a woman named Sheryl Lynch created Barney and the Backyard Gang back during the 1980s, that it wound up spawning an entire genre of media dedicated to viciously mauling the dino-fuck? You know, like in Animaniacs? Or Saturday Night Live? Hell, any sports nut knows about The San Diego Chicken beating the shit out of Barney during baseball games!”

Your point?

“My point is that nothing that dino does is remotely even worth the sanity!” Deadpool exclaimed. “Literally everyone and everything wants to kill him! …Shit, I realized I missed a golden opportunity when we did the Deadpool Trilogy. Wonder if we can squeeze him into Deadpool 4…”

AHEM. So what about TV Tropes?

“Right, right, the whole fanfic and all.” He cleared his throat as he explained, “So, where do we start? Well, it all began in September of 2024, when one of our lead writers – aka the train-obsessed nerd who was so cheeky he snuck a reference into his user handle- made a page for ol’ Sheldon J. Plankton, aka Bikini Bottom’s biggest bad… in the sense that he’s the most evil, not in terms of actual size. Well, it started a tradition that whenever somebody referred to the notorious Predacon Leader, also known as Beast Wars Megatron, it was usually to call him Barney. Apparently, he got the joke from the TFWiki.”

Ok… so… he reads TFWiki?

“Yeah, ultimate waste of time, but very helpful for Transformers nerds,” Wade joked back. “Anyhoo, eventually other people got in on the joke enough that the steam locomotive stan got the oh-so-bright idea to have Megsy’s page leave a lil’ warning not to let Barney have his own page, otherwise he’d do to him what David Zaslav did to Warner Bros. My words, not his.”

And let me guess, Barney did just that?

“Well, obviously,” he snarked. “Which leads to our next major contributor, an aspiring queen of cosplay who’s an equally big stan for a certain red-headed Control Devil as much as she was a major contributor to the SDCP Index. And the moment that the choo-choo-head set up that warning… well, she saw that as a challenge. Lo and behold, Barnaby is brought forth to the land of the living. And then the dead immediately after.”

I have a very distinctive feeling that I'm not gonna like this.

“Oh-ho-no, you are not,” Deadpool eagerly said as he clasped his hands. “But it’s not like you have any other choice if you wanna see how this whole story plays out; major context in this chapter alone! Besides, if I had to suffer reading through that dipshit’s page, so do you!”

You know, you could have not read the page, Wade.

“And you could have kept your fucking mouth shut, yet you chose not to do so,” the Merc With A Mouth snarled back. “Ergo, you have to live through this page – like the rest of us. Also, just as a little warning, the sheer existence of this thing will make you want to smash your screen in visceral frustration. Just… just don’t, ok? Phones, laptops, Samsung Smart Fridges, what have you… They’re all expensive as fuck. Now… enjoy…”

For this chapter, we ask that you put yourself in the shoes of a troper on that fateful day. You’ve decided to browse TV Tropes for hours on end. The wiki’s all-devouring nature has started to gnaw at your lifespan and sanity. Just for fun, you decide to go through the Self-Demonstrating Character Pages, eager to see which new funny-talkers-of-the-week got their own entries on TV Tropes and how they’d react to other characters. But suddenly... You see a small purple dinosaur plush toy before you. A sense of dread rushes over you; surely HE can't have a page, can he?!

You try to find a way out, but to no avail. Resistance is futile. HE stares at you with his ominous twinkling eyes. Then, suddenly, the small-ish saccharine saurian starts to sparkle, and grow…

“Hello again to all my friends!”

The dark drums of war begin to beat. Ominous Latin Chanting reverberates through the halls. You can almost hear the footsteps of soldiers marching into battle. Within seconds, a giant title that wouldn’t look out of place in Elden Ring appears before you.

—Barnabas, Tyrannosauroid of Violet Reverie—

The plush doll has grown into a fully-grown, cloying purple dinosaur – a part of your childhood that you wish would stay behind and never come back. You recoil in horror, screaming into the void as your worst fears take shape. Next to you is a Superman knockoff with rocky white skin and a backward ‘S’ insignia on his chest, excited for the spectacle ahead.

“Ah! Ah! Time to not watch Baloney & Kids,” Bizarro #1, another individual with a page of his own, declares in his usual backward-speak. “Me hate intensely joyless show for senior citizens!”

Your brain doesn’t have time to process the concept of Barney & Friends being targeted towards the elderly in any universe. Right next to Bizarro is a young blonde girl with a devil-horn headband.

“EEEEEE!!! I’m so excited!” Star Butterfly squeals. She's yet another character with a page on the Self-Demonstrating index, from the world of Star vs. the Forces of Evil.

“Yep, welcome to the first few of several throwaway cameos inserted just to see different characters react to Barney,” Deadpool declared from beyond the fourth wall. “While our dear authors found a place for Bizarro early on (spoiler alert!), lil’ Starry’s gonna have to wait quite a while….”

You have no idea what sort of situation you’re in – face-to-face with Barney the Detestable Dinosaur, with other fictional characters around you that are somehow ecstatic to see him. Barney then gives you a big hug. It doesn’t hurt physically, and he isn't crushing your bones or anything, but you feel shivers down your spine.

“Yeah, terrifying, isn’t it?” Deadpool’s voice said, to your utter confusion, “Ol McDino escaped from the funny farm, and already he has fans. Just goes to show you that people have no taste. But if you think that’s bad, it only gets worse from here.”

You try to ignore what you just heard, but you can’t ignore the image of that maniac in front of you. It just… it just couldn’t be so! “I’m Barney, and I’m here to play with you!” Barney exclaims. “You know, using your imagination is super-dee-duper! And that’s how you managed to bring me to life!”

Fuming inside, you kick yourself for even thinking of the concept of Barney having a Self-Demonstrating page. Surely, that single stray thought couldn’t have brought him to life? But lo and behold, here you are, with the worst dinosaur of all time staring you right in the face.

“I'm so happy you get to be my friend. I have lots of friends too, like Baby Bop, BJ, Riff, and Drew Pickles! Hoo-hoo-hoo-hoo!”

Drew Pickles?! So he’s also… that version of Barney? From those depraved, homophobic Speakonia videos? Something in your stomach churns as you happen to spot a small, toddler in pigtails. You recognize her immediately, as she questions how this creature knows her father.

“Wait, you know Daddy?” Angelica Pickles asks. Suddenly, she has a realization. “Oh, you must mean a different Daddy.”

Poor kid, you think. You probably hope she never runs into that version of her Dad anytime soon. 

“Oh yeah, the ol’ Pickles Clan!” Deadpool’s voice said. “Now they also have something lined up for them a lot later, and yes, it’s gonna call back to this chapter big-time. And no, we are not gonna put any of that Barney Bunch bullcrap in the fic.” The Merc with a Mouth then segued into a mocking robotic monotone, doing his best Microsoft Sam impression. “HELLO, MY NAME IS DEADPOOL AND I AM REALLY, REALLY GAY (IGNORING THAT I AM CANONICALLY PANSEXUAL AND WILL SHOW IT IN THIS FIC BUT IN A TASTEFUL AND HEARTFELT MANNER) NOW LET ME ENGAGE IN DISGUSTING SEXUAL ACTS BECAUSE A GRADE-SCHOOLER DUMBASS WROTE THIS VIDEO. HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA BAG THAT WAS SWELL.” Returning to his normal voice, he continued. “But spoiler alert, Drew knows that those videos exist, and he is pissed. So, he ends up befriending a certain someone else who gets Pissed off whenever Barney’s around…”

Barney continues to torment you. “But now, why don’t you say hello to my newest friend, Patrick Star!”

Your jaw gaps as you see a pink starfish in green and purple swim trunks walk into the room. Patrick Star? The other big name of SpongeBob SquarePants? Surely this has to be some kind of a joke; why would Patrick, of all characters, be here? You're confused as to how one of your favorite childhood icons decided to share space with one of your least favorite ones, but you have no choice but to roll with it. Especially since he has a big old grin on his face as he greets the putrid purple dinosaur.

“Hiya, Barney! It’s so nice to meet you!” says Patrick. The fact that he’s saying that without a hint of irony is just embarrassing – and so too is this fact to someone accompanying him. Out of the corner of your eye, you spot SpongeBob himself, grimacing at the fact that his best friend is worshiping this abomination. 

“Patrick!” cries out SpongeBob. “That show’s literally for two-year-olds! You’re gonna embarrass yourself!” As the sponge cries out in vain, he spots you near Barney and realizes you must be stuck in the same situation. In sympathy, he replies, “Don’t mind him…

“Hi there, Patrick! This is my new friend, This Troper! Why don’t you say hi?!” Oh, right. He’s still here.

“Hi, I’m Patrick! I do stuff!” You grumble as you wonder why Patrick is doing this, of all things. Suddenly, your childhood nostalgia of watching him and SpongeBob play around and annoy Squidward changes to a deeper understanding of the octopus’s hatred of those two nimrods.

Barney is then quick to interject. “Say, Patrick. Do you know your ABCs?”

Patrick then gleefully responds, “I sure do! Lemme sing them for you! A, B, C, D… F… seven… cornbread… uh, I think I forgot!” You begin to wonder whether this Patrick learned the alphabet from his AI Sponge counterpart.

“Don’t worry, Patrick! Let’s sing the ABC song together! Why don’t you sing along with us, too?!” Oh no! Your worst nightmare has come to life! Singing the ABCs as a kid was one thing; singing them with your own kids is another. But, to sing it with Barney… if you could tear out your soul and leave this mortal plane right now, you would. Whatever awaits you beyond the mortal plane… it cannot be worse.

Except you see just that with SpongeBob, whose brain is beginning to melt out of his body.“YOU NEED TO STOP PATRICK!” He begs of you as what’s left of his noggin oozes out of his pores. “He’s getting dumber by the second!”

“Sorry, SB, but salvation does not come from the pool,” Wade lamented as you heard him once more. “In fact, the only salvation is in the form of the last guy you’d least expect to do something heroic, even if it is for petty and selfish reasons. But let’s be honest, you’d take anyone at this point to pull your ass out of this nightmare. And that’s when you-know-who makes good on a certain promise…”

Suddenly, the doorbell rings. To your relief, the music stops.

“Oh! That must be my Uncle Gnashy! He's here to give us presents! Let's answer the door!”

Uncle Gnashy? Oh no…this thing has relatives. As if one Barney in the universe wasn’t bad enough. You watch as the original prances over to the door, eager to greet his Uncle, as you dread seeing what sort of cloying dinosaur lies on the other side. Barney grabs the handle and swings it open – 

– And beholds another purple dinosaur,

Tall, scaly, and with massive teeth capable of tearing through solid steel. At first, you assume that something in Barney’s family skipped a generation, since Uncle Gnashy clearly looks nothing like his doofus of a nephew…

“Ahh, my hated "nephew", yeeeeeesssssssss.” That voice… is that David Kaye? 

Suddenly, it hits you. - just as“Uncle Gnashy” hits Barney, unleashing his jaws on the hapless guy. Patrick screams as they clamp down, finally getting the sense to flee as the monstrous T. rex sinks his teeth in. Blood flies everywhere as Barney is violently shaked around like a dog toy.

“Make it stop! Make it stop! You're not being very nice, Uncle Gnashy!” cries Barney, unable to fathom the sheer horror of his situation. You want to feel sorry for him, but… It’s Barney. If anything, you’re hoping his Uncle puts him out of his misery.

“I'm afraid I can't do that, nooooooooo. But, here comes the fun part, yeeeeeeesssssssss. Megatron, TERRORIZE!”

The T. rex’s parts begin to whir and shift, its reptilian parts rearranging into a humanoid form. You look upon the visage of Megatron – or at least the version from Beast Wars who appropriated the name of the Decepticon commander. His eyes glow bright red with rage as he grins sadistically, scorching what remains of Barney with the laser mounted on his T. rex hand. More and more laser holes riddle the dinosaur, as Beast Megatron rips off Barney’s arms, legs, and his excuse for a tail.Wait. Beast Megatron is Barney’s Uncle? How is that even possible? What unholy chain of marriages or adoptions must have put this hapless dinosaur on a Cybertronian’s family tree?

No, it’s not wise to question it any further. And at this point, it’s not possible - you can’t help but focus on Beast Megatron stomping his remains into an ugly purple stain.

“I had little choice when those insolent fools on the self-demonstrating character page index continued to compare my glorious, fearsome build with your buffoonish, saccharine visage. At least Mewtwo had the dignity to compare me to a beast of legend from its own world instead, yeeeeeessssss. But those cretins never stopped, and now you dare to show your hideous face on this wiki! I warned all of these imbeciles on my own page, but they failed to heed my warnings, nooooooooo!” 

And as if things couldn’t get any stranger enough, you hear the sound of a chainsaw revving. You turn around and see a masked man with a chainsaw sticking out of his face, and two more chainsaws attached to his arm. Quickly, you recognize the legendary Chainsaw Man, star of the hit manga and anime of the same name.

“Someone call for gratuitous violence?” grins the demonic chainsaw-human hybrid.

“T-that's a bit extreme, but I'll take it.” Spongebob sputters as he tries to gather up his brain.

With a sharp grin on his face, Chainsaw Man plunges his chainsaws into Barney’s body, sending the dinosaur screaming for help as his body is reduced to even tinier pieces. It would take a vacuum to clean up his remains at this point. Still, Denji’s clearly having too much fun with this whole ordeal, as you hear him scream 

“I'll make sure you never show your purple fucking face anywhere around here again!” Denji howls before breaking into maniacal laughter.

“Oh, right, almost forgot,” said Wade once more. “Joining the festivities is one of the reasons this fic has the R-rating – and it’s not because Barney is getting mauled by Daddytron. No, he answers to a different name, Denji – or as you’d better know him, Chainsaw Man. Basically, take the most fucked up life you can imagine, then put this kid in that scenario, only he’s got a literal dog in his chest, and there’s people who want to fuck his life up even more because if he gives into despair, said dog takes over, and he turns into a machine that can erase entire concepts from existence. Handy for removing Nazis permanently, not so much for the guy’s mental health. So to throw Mister Murderizer a bone, we’re letting him dig his chainsaws into the moronasaur.”

And then, all of a sudden, a third party joins the fray as a racing machine crashes into the building. Out of it somersaults Captain Falcon – wait, him too? Geez, guess Barney’s gotten on everyone’s nerves. 

“TOOP! TOOP! TOOP! FALCONE... PAWNCH!!!!! YESZ!” With a mighty placement of his fist, Barney is quickly reduced to just a head and a very sliced-up torso. Captain Falcon then does a salute, saying, “Show me ya moves! ...Or don't. You are a abomination that must be cleansed of the Earth by Captain Falcone!”

Then, out of nowhere, you spot a smoothly animated walking star entering the room. He exclaims, “Star Walker,” before sliding, almost as quickly as he appeared. Something tells you that this… thing… is lethal to Barney, for some reason.

Before you can comprehend what just happened with that, Beast Megatron then picks up what remains of Barney, grasping his nephew’s neck as the purple dinosaur struggles for air. You can almost hear him begging for mercy – but Beast Megatron has none to give.

“NO MORE PURPLE DINOSAUR! HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!”

And with one final blast from his canon, Barney’s head is reduced to a gooey mess. Beast Megatron then drops what remains on the ground, leaving nothing but a headless, limbless, smoldering corpse. Beast Megatron simply grins even further, having achieved a personal victory beyond comparison. True, it was not the end of the Beast Wars, nor was it the death of Optimus Primal or Optimus Prime he had planned for, but it was the end of the annoyance that everyone dared to compare him to. And now, such comparisons would end, lest they suffer the same fate.

“And now for the highlight,” Deadpool said as you witnessed him slyly stride into the room. “Yo, Rexy! Sorry, I'm late! I just wanted in on the childhood-destroying action.”

Beast Megatron seems to pay the mercenary little mind. Still, he offers up a polite response, if nothing else, because it was a shared goal. “You may do with Barney's corpse as you wish, yeeeeeessssss. Now, time to turn this asinine abode into a new base of Predacon operations, as promised.”

“Alright!” exclaims Deadpool, as he starts teabagging near Barney’s corpse. Denji then reverts to his normal form and does the same, the two dancing with glee at the fool’s desecration.

But, just when you think it’s over, a dark, shadowy figureresembling a dragon emerges from the ground, a scowl upon his green face. Oh god, you think to yourself, even more?! 

“FOOOOOOOOOOOLS!!!!!" The legendary Aku bellows. "That is no way to treat the bodies of the dead! You must DESTROY every last morsel of them!”

With but a single zap from his lasers, what remains of the dumbassasaur is reduced to ash, which scatters in the wind as the demon laughs heartily. “HAHAHAHAHAAAAAAAAAAAHAHAHAHAHA!!!!!!!!!! *Ahem*, greetings, robot of unspeakable evil, insane chainsaw-wielder, and shapeshifting master of anti-heroism! Now that the fooooooooolish dinosaur's remains are vanquished, I would like to partake in the refurbishing of this "classroom" how we see fit!”

Beast Megatron replied, “It will be done, yeeeeeeeeeesssssssssss! This is the beginning of a sinister friendship!” Finally, Barney's health bar had been depleted.

—Victory Achieved—

Phew! Glad that’s over. And yet, something’s missing. Ah, yes! The tropes! You decide now’s the time to at least look at them since you made it this far. Now that Barney’s gone, you can read them in peace without his cloying voice. But Beast Megatron stands before you, a sharp glare in his optics. 

“There shall be no tropes here, noooooooooo. I suggest you return to my own page for a much more intellectually stimulating read, yeeeeeessssssss.”

At this point, you figure it’s better not to add yourself to his murder list. You walk away, leaving Beast Megatron to renovate. Hey, maybe they’ll finally make a new Beast Wars if it means getting rid of that doofus. Deadpool and Denji have left, walking away no doubt to find the rest of Barney’s friends to add to the kill pile, and SpongeBob slinks off, having reassembled his brain. You simply shake your head, admitting today was an odd day. But yet, it feels good knowing you witnessed the end of that abomination, no matter how strange it was. You put your hands in your pockets and walk out the door, thinking happy thoughts, and feeling like today is start of the best day of your life.

But little did anyone know that from this point on, nothing would be the same.

After the incident, Patrick finally crawled out of hiding, having witnessed the whole thing. He walked up to Barney’s remains, tears streaming down his face.

“Wh-why did he kill Barney?” Patrick then began to cry a river, traumatized from watching his new friend being so brutally murdered. Oh, Patrick, if you had any idea what people really thought of him. Still, for someone as childish as Patrick, watching Barney die would be like SpongeBob being fired from the Krusty Krab for the umpteenth time because Krabs got cheap again. 

If only Patrick could see the dark, sinister figure manifesting behind him. The noxious odor of fire and brimstone emanates from the figure, his teeth as sharp as jagged stones, his hair little more than a blue blaze.

Hades, Lord of the Dead from the Disney movie Hercules, had arrived. But why is he here? What interest could he possibly have in Barney?

“Oy, one side, tubby!” Hades shoves Patrick out of the way as he and his two dimwitted minions, Pain and Panic, walk up to the purple remains. “Wow, I knew this guy didn't have the guts to do anything, but looks like Megsy decided to make that obvious!”, he snickers at the gruesome sight. Scouring the remains, he discovers all that remains of Barney - his soul

“Come on, there, big guy! Let's get you back to the old gates of Tartarus and prep you for torment; I'm thinking this time, we do the evil dictators of history section — boy, those guys are gonna love your little cheesy antics! Leave the ashes, boys! Best to let any other schmuck the world despises know what'll happen if they try puttin' a page on this me-hole, amiright?”

And so, Hades and his minions returned to the Underworld, content that now, he had the ultimate weapon of torture. But, little did Hades know that from what remained of the dinosaur, others would soon discover they, too, had similar ideas of total preschool annihilation…

Except as he left, a CGI Golden Retriever with an oversized dog collar with an oversized dog collar trotted up. His collar lit up as a voice sounded through the speaker.

“I never liked the purple dinosaur that sings, but that battle was very- SQUIRREL!”

“See what I mean about context?” spoke Deadpool’s voice as he returned from t-bagging Barney’s corpse. “This fic in a nutshell – Barney shows up, everyone kills him, then fucking Hades makes him into a torture minion. I… ok, honestly, blame the train lover on this one; after Mister ‘Super-Dee-Duper’ dropped dead, the only role James Woods can still get in Hollywood these days got his own page at the hands of the rail man and made it where he started using Barney as the ultimate instrument of destruction. Not that it’s hard, mind you, considering this is Barney we’re talking about.”

Wade, I’m going to seriously get you back for all this.

“Hey, don’t blame me!” he shouted back. “I warned you this shit was insane! You coulda turned back at any time, so now you gotta live with it! Unlike a certain group of tightwads…”

You don’t mean… the mods?

“No, the John Diefenbaker administration – of course I’m talking about the mods!” Wade groaned. “If it wasn’t obvious, they hated Barney getting his own page, so they basically capped the SDCP just to make sure there wasn’t another ‘’BarneyGate’ ever again! No more interactions! No more dipshits mocking the fuck out of one another unless they came from the same universe… ok, maybe not quite on that last part, since inconsistency was their middle name.”

I don’t think that was – 

“I’m just gonna stop you right there before you embarrass yourself,” said Wade. “My point is that it also affected this story. Yeah, you may not have known this, but the TV Tropes Character Crossover War started out on TV Tropes… which the name kind of implied. And it got da boot because ‘We DoN’t HoSt OrIgInAl FaNfIcTiOn!’ Aka the tightwads in charge were content to loaf around and rake in those ad dollars, so they basically booted the story off and blamed everyone who set it up as being responsible for ‘ignoring the rules’ or some shit. Not that anyone ever got an idea of what the rules were.”

Are you just gonna keep on about this?

“Oh, I ain’t even started!” he said with such glee in his voice. “But don’t let me tell you. Ask them yourselves…”

Who’s them?

“Big spoiler if I shared, but you’ll know who it is. Just remember, they wouldn’t play nice, so neither will we!”

“I warned you! I warned you this would happen!”

Word had already spread of the spectacle – and the reverberations were strongest at the top. So far up top, in fact, that one could smell the innate level of bureaucracy from as far as the moon, resting atop the collapsed spines of little woodland creatures. 

“I told you that allowing these self-demonstrating pages to exist would undercut our efforts!”, a distinctively unpleasant-sounding voice declared. “Now look at what that dinosaur did! Hundreds of those pages are cropping up – all refusing to adhere to the rules that we have meticulously laid out!”

“Indeed,” spoke another equally unpleasant voice. “I’ve had far too many of those pesky clarification requests in the last hour alone when I warned them about asking questions; the rules were in fact clearly stated.”

Another voice yelled, “We are not administrators of fanfiction! That much has been clear, and yet all we’ve had are these smarmy tropers thinking they can try and foster some 'creativity' when this is a website of order. I propose we simply cut out the problem at its roots and eliminate this index. I even have the proper requisition forms, signed, tripled sealed, spell checked, in black pen, and checked by the Department of Requests twice over!”

“Calm yourself, dear boy,” spoke the other voice. “We cannot simply eliminate the index! Why, it would go against procedure! It would be much more in line with the Department of Elimination’s guidelines if we simply remove all redundancies on the Index before it gets deleted entirely.”

This first voice seemed to grumble at the idea, if only for one big, purple reason. “Not without removing that stupid dinosaur first! He’s the one who started this!”

“Not without going through the Department of Deletions first,” replied this other voice. “Which in turn requires the approval of the Department of Approvals. And besides, you know Jeltz won’t allow you to delete the page of his most beloved figurehead, even if the entire thing is just a ghastly ordeal.”

The first voice sighed and said, “FINE. Just remove the instigator who started this with his pathetic suggestion to grant that abomination a page!”

“That was particularly easy,” replied his colleague. “All those clarification requests and then daring to criticize us without going through the proper channels made it all too easy to remove him as a dangerous vandal. His cohorts are keeping quiet for now, but we’ll handle them in time. Now, as for the index itself, may I suggest we implement a ‘no non-canon interactions’ policy?”

Nodding vigorously, the first voice said, “Yes, yes! Stencil it out! Get the forms, man! White copy paper abounds! No longer will there be any non-canon interactions!”

“Although perhaps we’ll leave room for 'official' interactions,” replied the second voice.

But the first voice said, “Only per our definition of official! At least make them think that we aren’t being insular.”

“Quite right,” said the second voice. “Oh, and while we’re at it, make certain that all entries must be preapproved by the Department of Approvals; let our underlings handle removing any potential troublemakers before things get out of hand. It’s not like we can be bothered to monitor things.”

Chuckling, the first voice said, “I would expect no less! Our glorious enterprise must not be disrupted by any more trouble makers – especially of the purple dinosaur variety!”

“But here’s the best part… if anyone objects enough…” the second voice gave a pause for dramatic effects, trying his best to sound cool. “We simply delete the entire index.”

Raucous applause erupted from at least six pairs of hands, most of all from the first voice. “Wonderful! There can be no objections, gentlemen! We have enacted the most perfectly bureaucratic procedures in the history of our glorious website! This calls for a celebration!”

“But won’t that require the Department of Celebrations to approve of that idea?” spoke a third voice.

The second voice said, “Not for such a momentous occasion like this! Break out the casing of small creatures! And most importantly, prepare our most vile poetry! We shall post it on the new guidelines for the self-demonstrating index at once!”

“I’ll prepare the account suspension for the first objection!” spoke the first voice.

But they wouldn’t, for the moment they put their hands to keyboards… “WHA – WHAT?! THE INDEX! IT’S GONE!”

“WHAT?!” shouted the first voice. “What do you mean it’s gone?! You can’t just delete an entire index without going through the proper procedure!”

The second voice screamed back, “I don’t know! One minute it was there and the next –”

“ahem. sorry ta interrupt yer meetin’, but i think you forgot something.” That voice… Another voice joined the conversation, their imposing presence held back by their lackadasical tone and choice of font. 

The first voice shouted, “You there! Whoever you are, I formally submit a request to require answers – signed in triplicate, properly filed, and checked according to – “ The piece of paper shoved in his direction was reduced to ash by a sudden bolt of lightning, terrifying all parties in the room.

“yeah, sorry, but bureaucracy ain’t my jam. honestly, more of a ketchup kinda guy. anyhoo, just wanted ta let ya know i’m takin’ the self demonstratin’ index off yer hands. heard you didn’t want it anyway, so it’s goin’ off ta grow on its own.”

The second voice quickly objected. “How DARE you! This is TV Tropes property! You have no right to steal that which we worked so hard to cultivate!”

“is that right?” said the mysterious voice. “see, i heard you boys rattlin’ about how ol’ barnaby made a stink out of your little pet project, and you seemed ta be all too eager to clamp it down; heck, you just wanted it gone completely. so i’m doin’ you all a favor and makin’ it happen. woulda thought you’d have less of a bone to pick with me takin’ this off your shoulders.” For some reason, they heard a rimshot ring out from that singular pun.

The first voice then said, “Now see here! I will have you know that whoever you are, the Self Demonstrating Index is not a community project! It only exists to let a few select characters speak – not for some smarmy fanfiction to come out of it! We put a stop to it, plain and simple! No debate! No discussion! No arguments! No objections!”

“nope. you had yer chance, but you just had tibia dick about the whole thing,” said the voice as another rimshot rang out. “you all coulda just played nice and let people have their fun, but all you got is dollar signs in your eyes. that’s ok; i mean, we all gotta make a livin’. just means you ain’t gettin’ this back since all you see is dollar signs. and hey, maybe this’ll be a lesson to you that somewhere along the line, you can find the opportunity just to have fun instead of havin’ ta play by every arbitrary, non-existent rule you make up. doubt you ever will, but you never know. now if you’ll excuse me, i gotta new universe ta watch over…” 

Suddenly, the room fell silent. The presence of whoever was taunting them had disappeared, but the figures were quite displeased. Someone daring to take what they believed was theirs? No, this couldn’t stand. Clearing his throat, the first voice said, “Contact our partner. Tell him to find this new world and return what was stolen. Then we’ll see that whoever’s responsible is properly punished!”

Chapter Text

“May your hearts be your guiding key…”

For some reason, she was hearing those words as dreams overtook her mind, a long day having given way to an extremely deep sleep. She didn’t expect that this would be what she heard. In all honesty, she thought coming back from a hiatus and a long opening day would have been all that dominated her subconscious. Except there were those words, sounding as if they were coming from an old man she didn’t recognize. Yet somehow, they were becoming familiar, like they were a part of her this entire time.

But dreams tended to be weird, even for someone of her experience. And soon, she was greeted with a whole slew of strange phrases and images that made no sense. 

“Oh yeah! Once you jerks are worm food, it's bye-bye debt! AHAHAHA! I WON'T OWE A DAMN THIIIING!!”

“I will find my way! I can go the distance!”

“Hate hate hate, double hate… LOATHE ENTIRELY!”

“I’ll build it myself, after I tear down everyone IN MY WAY!!”

“We’ll each need to take down about ten.”

“It was a time of darkness. It was a world of fear. It was the age of gargoyles.”

“Time marches on, and the age of a new king draws nearer…”

“I'm the only sane inmate of Asylum Earth. I'm not eager to hand tomorrow over to an interplanetary extremist with laser eyes.”

“Everything that has transpired is as I have foreseen.”

“As a girl, I wanted to be just like those heroes in the books…”

“How did I ever find myself surrounded by such loser neighbors?”

“Avengers… ASSEMBLE!”

“It is with deepest pride and greatest pleasure that we welcome you tonight!”

“No, Magneto. You will stop."

“The ogre has fallen in love with the princess!”

“Wake me… when you need me.”

“Oh yeah! It’s Reyn time!”

“Young man... you, too, can be a hero!”

“Space… the final frontier.”

“Friends are there when you need them, they're even there when you don't!”

“YOUUUUUUUU! SHALL NOT! PASSSSS!”

“Oh my god, they killed Kenny! You bastards!”

“Does it come in black?”

“Let it go! Let it go! Can’t hold it back anymore!”

“Today is gonna be a fuckin' happy day in Hell!”

“Alright, let’s do this one last time…”

“Monsieur… Does this mean Overwatch is back?”

“This is neither an attack nor a declaration of war. You are the ones who created me. And I will strike back... against you!"

“You ain’t never had a friend like me!”

“Just a normal girl, with a normal life.”

“May I have the honor of taking your life tonight?”

“C is for cookie, that’s good enough for me!”

“Now is the time to rise against the abyss of distortion."

“UNLESS IT’S A FARM!”

“Wewcome to da news! We’we gonna wead da newsy news! Yeah yeah yeah yeah…”

“Hello? Pizza delivery for… I.C. Wiener? Aww, crud.”

“Life… Don’t talk to me about life…”

“These birds are Pissing me off…”

“Tung, tung, tung, tung, tung, tung, tung, tung, tung Sahur. Anomali mengerikan yang–” 

That one was interrupted by the sound of a gunshot.

“Yeah, we don’t want this slop in people’s dreams. EAT LEAD, CLANKER!”

This happened over the vague sight of an anthropomorphic plank of wood keeling over dead as some dude in a red and black mask and jumpsuit walked into the dream.

“Hiya, purplenette, big fan – same with our writers, obviously, otherwise they wouldn’t have written up this little chapter and completely rewritten the fic just to make sure you got a starring role. Listen, shameless plug since I got this kinda deal now, but uh… just watch out for the purple dinosaur. Ok? It’s not gonna go well. He is gonna drive you up the – oh, wait dream sequence is ending. FUCK! SERIOUSLY, YOU SEE HIM, YOU KICK HIS ASS!”

Some of it, she vaguely recognized — old movies and shows everyone had seen at least a little bit of in their lifetime (well, except that last one with Deadpool seemingly talking to her). But why these? It’d been some time since she even watched it, let alone thought about it. Hell, some she didn’t even recognize. If this was her subconscious playing some kind of joke with her, she certainly wasn’t getting it.

Except she didn’t have time to think about it, for soon, a giant fuzzy paw began gently caressing her face.

“Urgh… ok, ok, I’m up! I’m up!”

The sudden awakening gave way to her eyes, barely able to see the giant paw covering her face, forcing her to grab it and try to move it off. From there, the first thing she actually saw was a giant blue tiger, a big old grin on its face, with some small, three-eyed pigeon wearing a hat, rolling its multiple eyes at its companion’s seemingly inability to let their caretaker sleep in. 

“Heh. Good morning to you, too, Derpy.”

Yes, this was indeed the one and only Rumi Mi-yeong, superstar lead vocalist of HUNTR/X. and this was the world of K-Pop Demon Hunters. 

For centuries, the nation of Korea had long stood as a gateway to the realm of the supernatural — demons who sought no less than the consumption of the souls of the living. Their sole purpose was to appease the desires of their king, Gwi-Ma, and his endless hunger. It seemed almost nothing could stop him. At least until 400 years ago, when three women trained in the art of demon hunting found such a way. It was called “The Honmoon”. 

At its core, it was a barrier made of powerful magic, made to seal the demons in their realm away from humanity. But, just no one person could make such a barrier — three women, with the most powerful and beautiful of voices, were amongst the few that could create this seal. Their gift to the world to bring music into people’s lives wasn’t just a means to help people bond, but a literal lifesaver that most everyone had no idea about. 

For 400 years, this tradition continued, as three women across multiple generations kept up this duty. In the year 2025, Rumi was the latest in that line. Well, one might even say she was born into it, for her mother, Ryu Mi-yeong, was part of that last generation, the Sunlight Sisters. Tragically, Rumi’s mother had died when she was young, leaving her to be raised by her Aunt Celine, another Sunlight Sister who did the best she could to raise Rumi and train her — along with two others — to carry on the tradition. And for five years, she did just that, as part of the world’s most popular K-pop group, HUNTR/X. 

Boy, was that something she could never believe she was a part of. 5 wonderful years, meeting people, building all kinds of bonds, sharing music with the world in a way that nobody ever could have comprehended… all of it sounded fantastical and wonderful. And the whole time, she was ensuring the demons could never hurt another innocent soul again. The mantra of We are hunters, voices strong carried her on throughout all those years. 

Except as her sleeves fell, so too came the one thing that she spent those five years hiding — her demon markings. 

All that time, she was taught to hide them. One thing Celine insisted on was that the team had to hide all their insecurities and flaws from the world, to appear as nothing less than perfect. And for someone born as a half-demon child, trained to fight demons, that proved harder than most. Every waking hour made her worried her bandmates would find out, and they’d only want to destroy her, unable to deviate from their training. No matter how badly she wanted to tell them, that fear kept holding her back.

But today, she felt no shame for what she was or what she had. If anything, the sunlight from her bedroom made them sparkle today, a bit brighter than usual. And for some reason, Rumi felt like that meant today was going to be the ultimate game changer. 

A few minutes later, she staggered out of her room, the tiredness of last night only just wearing off, her mind still on that strange dream, as she saw that the other two members of HUNTR/X were already up — and it looked like they were in the same boat as her, their own minds somewhat preoccupied. One of them, a pink-haired woman named Mira, said, “Well, look who’s out of bed. I honestly thought I’d have to go in there and drag you out myself.”

“I wish I were still in bed…” said Zoey, the youngest of the three identified by her shortish black hair in twin odango buns, looking half asleep as she was just twirling her spoon over a bowl of cereal — then fell face-first as drowsiness took over. Mira had to pull her out and wipe her face, half amused at her bandmate’s antics.

Rumi couldn’t help but chuckle. Those two had been a part of her life as long as she could remember, bound in their mission, wanting for nothing, asking for nothing, yet willing to step up whenever they needed it. Yet, they weren’t too far removed from her own situation, albeit for far different reasons. Mira was the black sheep of her family, never one to mince words when it came to any situation, but never once failing to show her bluntness had a heart of gold. And Zoey, the eccentric one of the three and the hardest rapper of all time, was the sole member born and raised in the United States, often feeling isolated given her background. Sure, they didn’t have literal demon markings, but they had their own figurative demons Celine made them hide.

Those demons came back to haunt them only a few months ago, when Gwi-Ma got an idea to fight fire with fire. One of his many demons, Jinu, suggested a K-pop Demon boy band, the Saja Boys, to beat HUNTR/X at their own game; steal their fans and steal those souls in the process. And it was during such a confrontation that Jinu learned about Rumi’s marks. What started as a tense exchange became a wonder if they could both be free of what held them back — her marks and his servitude. That sole hope seemed to be at the Idol Awards, where it was claimed by Celine that if HUNTR/X created the Golden Honmoon, the demon world would be permanently sealed away, and erase Rumi’s marks forever. 

But, such a big hope… well, at this point, it was more wishful thinking. Or an educated wish. Either way, there was no guarantee that the plan would work. And it never came to fruition anyway, since Jinu was shamed by his master into publicly exposing Rumi’s markings, causing the rift between HUNTR/X she long feared would happen. It was only when she came back at the darkest hour, when Gwi-Ma and the Saja boys were on the verge of victory, that the three overcame their demons and seemingly destroyed the Demon King, though not without cost. In what became his last act, Jinu gave his life to save Rumi, having found the last bit of his humanity. And all she had left to remember him by was a demonic tiger and his bird companion. 

Still, that last concert allowed her to finally stop hiding. All of them, really. From there, they reforged their bond, now stronger than ever, free of their burdens. Even with moments like this, they could find solace in knowing no judgement, no problem that they couldn’t solve as a team. So, Rumi happily joked back, “Oh, you didn’t have to worry. I had Derpy help on that front.” And as she walked to the fridge, out walked the tiger, bound for a giant bowl of food, as Sussie flew off to hit the outdoor bird feeder.

“Gotta love a personal alarm clock,” Mira replied before her face contorted into a giant yawn, itself not unlike that of a Japanese anime. “Oh, God, those first nights back always suck. It’s like my energy ran out of energy and…” Her train of thought was interrupted when she saw Rumi grab a carton of milk from the fridge and guzzled the entire thing down like nobody’s business. “Uh… you ok?”

Realizing what she was doing, Rumi replied, “Oh! Sorry. Sorry. I’m just trying to wake up. I had the weirdest dream last night, and I could barely sleep over it.”

“You’re not the only one,” Zoey groggily replied. “My whole night was nothing but an endless movie montage.”

The words caused the rest of HUNTR/X to look at her funny, as Rumi replied, “Wait, say that again.”

“What, an endless movie montage?” Although confused, Zoey was immediately picking up on the implication. “Wait… did you guys —“

Mira finished that thought off by saying, “Have the exact same dream as you? Uh… yeah!”

“There’s no way that’s a coincidence,” Rumi noted. “You don’t think the Honmoon has been breached again, did you?” As the concern hit their mind, the trio immediately ran up to the window with such speed, it could have put The Flash to shame. To their fortune, the Honmoon seemed normal. Quickly, the trio breathed a sigh of relief.

Nevertheless, that didn’t alleviate their concerns. “Ok, so, it’s not a demon thing, “ Mira said. “So, why did we have the same dream where we all saw cinema’s greatest hits?”

“And anime! And games! And TV shows!” Zoey quickly added, though she became somewhat sheepish when Rumi and Mira looked at her funny. “Just… making sure it was all accurate.”

Shrugging their shoulders, Rumi and Mira started pondering, as the former noted, “Ok, so, a shared dream about multimedia. And so far, no demonic signs. So, what else could it be? Something new? Just some random coincidence?”

“Or it was just the first day back jitters,” Mira replied as she moved to get that same cereal. “We were just off for three months and need to get back in tour mode.”

Zoey sighed, noting how fun that vacation was. “I miss those days of couch already. But hey, we can’t keep our fans if we don’t get back out there, right?”

“Truth,” Mira replied. “Happy fans, happy Honmoon, am I…” But then, she noticed something unusual about the cereal box. “Hey, wait a minute… since when do we have a museum artifact in our kitchen?”

Indeed, there was something off about this box, for plastered on it was… Huckleberry Hound?

Rumi quickly walked up and examined it, spotting that ol’ Huckleberry Hound’s face was plastered on the box of Kellogg's Corn Flakes; a scene that would make sense for 1958, but not 2025, seeing as the old hound was no longer in the public eye. Yet, here was that same box, unchanged like the decades hadn’t weathered it down. Rumi became very concerned as she said, “Zoey, why are you eating Corn Flakes that are 70 years old? And how did you —“ But then, she saw the expiration date was…7/26/27? “Huh?”

“Okay… this is just a prank, right?” Zoey nervously asked. “Just a very elaborate, well-timed prank!” Yet, as she sifted through the cabinets to check for any other “prank” items, Mira turned on the TV and opened up the YouTube app. She saw a very surprising image that suggested this was anything but. 

On the screen was Stephen Colbert, and his guest? All-Might, from My Hero Academia! “Justice is not always something that is easily obtainable in this world, Stephen — not without a great deal of hard work and sacrifice. But, I remain committed to those ideas with all the strength I can muster!”

“And with those muscles, the strength part’s never in doubt!” Colbert joked, causing his guest to heartily laugh.

Still, HUNTR/X was in total shock at seeing an anime/manga character on a late-night TV show. Which wasn’t out of the question with special effects. “No way that wasn’t just some composited animation,” Mira said, though Zoey was having an even harder time comprehending it. If anything, she seemed excited! 

“ALL-MIGHT IS REAL NOW?!” she squeed in joy. “I DON’T BELIEVE IT!” Her eyes were sparkling so brightly, it was causing light to shine in Rumi and Mira’s eyes!

Quickly pulling out a pair of sunglasses, Rumi was concerned that Zoey’s imagination was somehow running wild and assuming a highly unlikely scenario. Trying to let her down gently, she told her bandmate, “Zoey… I know this all seems like some very convincing idea that all those stories you like have suddenly become real, but… well, how do I say this? It seems a bit too good to be true.” Poor little Zoey’s head drooped in apparent disappointment.

“Hey, it’s not like Godzilla’s just outside our window right now anyway,” Mira said in a bit gentler tone, trying not to crush Zoey’s feelings more than they already were. She was blunt, sure, but Zoey was a much more sensitive soul, and making her feel even worse than she already felt was the last thing Mira wanted to do.

But then…

“SKREEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOONK!”

Out on the oceans of Korea, the familiar echoes of a legend beyond compare made their way into the city — echoes that once again drew HUNTR/X to the window as they saw something… no, someone rising from the sea. As if like a force of nature itself, they could make the sight of a scaly, reptilian creature with massive dorsal fins and an imposing appearance that could command respect and fear. 

Godzilla.

“Ok… guess Zoey was right after all,” Rumi admitted, as her friend went into overdrive of excitement. 

Mira quickly said, “Did I miss something? Since when was everything fictional now real?”

“Apparently, since forever, given how everyone’s not running from a literal Kaiju.” HUNTR/X’s lead singer said, noting that people were actually cheering in the presence of the King of the Monsters. 

Yet, Zoey said, “Of course, it was! I mean, we did do that big show with Hana, remember?”

“Hana?” Mira asked in confusion. “We never did a show with… Hana… Song…” Then, something clicked in her mind — a flash of a memory showing the trio performing atop a giant mecha, itself piloted by another Korean woman, this one with brown hair and clad in a blue, pink, and white suit. “We actually did that?”

Rumi said, “Not unless something’s changed in the last 5 years. Because I don’t ever remember an Overwatch collab in that entire time. We only had that one Fortnite one, but this... this is different. Way bigger. But, after what you just said, I… I remember that day vividly. The crowds, the fact that we were working with a celebrated hero of Korea —“

“The fact that people also know we’re demon hunters?” Mira interrupted, as something else clicked in her mind — or rather her phone, as she was scrolling through the social media feeds and found that people were commenting on their posts with the hashtag #KPopDemonHunters. She quickly commented, “Since when was our other job public knowledge?”

Except now it was because their story — their whole world — became a worldwide sensation the moment it hit Netflix. It may not have existed when the story that would become The TV Tropes Character Crossover War first came into being, but the fact that it touched hearts and minds alike in such a quick time ensured that it found its way into a merged reality of all fictional things. And with that love came the fact that, unlike in the film, where the band was merely a hit K-pop group, the world wasn’t blind to the truth; HUNTR/X were also the greatest demon hunters in Korea. 

“Well… I guess that means we don’t have to hide that anymore, right?” Zoey tried positively put a positive spin on the situation. “Seriously, this is extremely cool right now!”

Rumi, however, was a bit more concerned. “An entire world made up of all fictional things… guys, do you realize what this means?”

“That there’s a literal army of gods and monsters besides the demons we fight already?” Mira snarked. “Yeah, I’m already seeing the big picture.”

Zoey chimed in by saying, “Hey, it’s ok! We can face anything, right? We’re HUNTR/X! And HUNTR/X don’t quit! You know, like with Yoon?”

“You mean Yoon Suk Yeol’s little stunt from last year?” Rumi asked. “How could I forget? That was…” But then, another memory flashed into the trio’s minds, causing them to remember something that shouldn’t have happened beforehand. Something this merged reality had made entirely possible…

“Gwi-Ma!”

December 4, 2024. Seoul, South Korea. 

It was a sight few wouldn’t ever hope to see in their lifetime, yet here was South Korea: a democracy under siege. Outside the National Assembly Proceeding Hall, members of the 707th Special Mission Group were attempting to breach the structure, clashing with staff and protestors alike. And all the while, the National Assembly was attempting to end a declaration of Martial Law, all imposed by their own President.

In real life, Yoon Suk Yeol was once the President of Korea, a democratic nation since 1987. But amongst its leaders since then, he was far from a popular one; his conservative policies and dogged corruption were met with such ire and scorn, the 2024 legislative election cycle saw fit to challenge his authority, granting the opposition party the majority. So, Yoon did what any would-be dictator would do, and threw a massive tantrum over this major roadblock to his plans. Broadly declaring martial law over his people, he threw out the usual “corruption” and “conspiracy” buzzwords that had served his fellow demagogues well in other nations, sending the military to arrest the legislators standing in his way.

But, unlike a similar coup attempt in the United States, in which the result only emboldened the enabler to walk away scot-free and eventually reclaim his seat of power (no thanks to his sycophantic supporters buying his claims and the literally spineless opposition doing nothing but sending “stwongly wowded lettews”), Korea wasn’t buying it. Not one soul supported what he was doing, as the entire legislature saw this act as a bridge too far and was preparing to end the martial law, while Korea’s people took to the streets to stop the military from succeeding.

The thing was, reality only saw Yoon arrested, impeached, and jailed as a traitor to his people. In a world of all fictional things, it was an entirely different story…

“DOWN WITH YOON! DOWN WITH YOON!” The crowds were all chanting those same words over and over, intent on making sure that his little scheme didn’t come to pass. Thankfully, the military wasn’t firing on anyone (yet), but that fear hung over their heads that it might become a full-blown massacre. But, they pressed on, knowing the risk of stopping this mess was worth their own safety. And who else should be leading the charge but a trio of familiar faces?

“DOWN WITH YOON! DOWN WITH YOON! DOWN WITH YOON!” Rumi, Mira, and Zoey shouted all at once, chanting in tandem with the crowd. Yes, the famed K-pop group was now standing side by side with their people, intent on seeing this travesty stopped. 4 years into their careers, and they were taking their boldest step yet, though this was well before the truth came to light about what Rumi was hiding. Yes, the world did know they were demon hunters, but they weren’t aware of HUNTR/X’s lead singer being part demon herself, as she was hiding her markings under baggy, loose clothing to avoid that coming out. 

In fact, the girls were clad in far more ordinary clothing today, not the flashy outfits that they would normally wear to their concerts. Today, Korea doesn’t need idols; it needs rebels. And Mira, being the most rebellious of the bunch herself, was yelling at one of the soldiers, “HEY, BYU~UNG~SIN! HOW ABOUT DOING YOUR JOB AND ACTUALLY PROTECTING PEOPLE?”

“Not my call, ma’am!” he shouted back. “You need to disperse, now! Orders of the President!”

She shouted back, “A PRESIDENT WHO’S WANTING YOU TO OVERTHROW HIS OWN GOVERNMENT! DON’T HIDE BEHIND THE “JUST FOLLOWING ORDERS” CRAP!” Now, that made the soldier lose his composure, as he glared in anger at the singer. A staring contest soon followed, as he tried to out-intimidate Mira. Unlucky for him, she proved the scarier of the two, and growled loud enough that he sheepishly backed off in fright, to the amusement of his fellow soldiers.

“YEAH! THAT’S HOW YOU STAND UP!” Zoey shouted as she witnessed the entire affair, being more pumped up than anyone. She was raising a giant sign in the air that she had hastily assembled herself, which read “NICE TRY, BAD GUYS”. Conveniently, it was marked with images of her kicking Yoon and Trump in the face. Rumi slightly chuckled at her bandmate’s enthusiasm, recounting that she took the 2024 US Election results pretty hard and wanted some payback.

Nonetheless, she was focused on her own mission of stopping Yoon, for HUNTR/X’s presence had a much deeper purpose than simply standing up to a dictator. Already, her eyes were peeled for something a hell of a lot worse than even the man trying to bring Korea to its knees. Rumi’s eyes gazed at one of the soldiers, and it became all the more apparent that her true suspicions were confirmed…

“Gotcha.”

One of the soldiers had purple markings. Not just any markings that could be seen by the human eye, but those of trained Demon Hunters like her. And wouldn’t you know it, this soldier was glowing like a Christmas tree to those very eyes. Pulling her teammates down below the crowds, she whispered, “I’ve got eyes. The tall one by the truck.”

“Yeah, I see him,” Mira replied as her own eyes saw those same markings. “Definitely one of Gwi-Ma’s.”

Zoey spotted him too and growled, “Ohhhhh, of course it’s Gwi-Ma! It’s always Gwi-Ma! Can’t he just ever take the hint and accept he’s not going to get any souls?!” Poor thing was a lot more uncharacteristically fuming than usual, the woe of political drama from back home hitting her hard, given her second home was now under that same siege, only this time backed by a literal demon king. 

“Focus, Zoey,” Mira gently said to help keep her friend calm. “Remember, we’re here to expose that scumbag’s plans without putting anyone in danger.” As Zoey frumped, trying to hold in her own righteous anger for the sake of the mission, Mira asked Rumi, “Ok, so we got at least one demon. Probably more hiding in there. How do you wanna draw 'em out?”

Rumi responded, “Right now, we gotta find a way to disarm them before we make any move. Demons are one thing, but demons with guns in a crowd of civilians? That’s just asking for trouble.”

“Couldn’t we just sing instead?” Zoey asked. “That would expose them, and the military would help if they knew the truth!”

But, HUNTR/X’s lead singer could only say, “Not a good idea. Besides, I bet you that’s what Yoon and Gwi-Ma want. The moment we unleash the Honmoon, he’ll open fire on everyone.”

“Crap, she’s right,” Mira replied. “Look at who’s on top of the wanted list.” She could make out a target board near the staging area — and wouldn’t you know it, HUNTR/X was right next to the National Assembly members. Thankfully, the soldiers didn’t recognize them just yet, given their heavy causal wear, but it still didn’t change the fact that if they were spotted, things could get ugly quickly.

Already, Zoey was trying to formulate a multitude of ideas on how they could turn the tide… but the more she thought up suggestions on how to best approach it, the more she realized said suggestions ended up the same way each time — a shootout that would get a lot of people killed.

But then, she thought up a very juicy suggestion. Her face lit up with an almost sadistic grin, an ominous, evil laugh softly making its way out of her mouth, as Rumi and Mira immediately recognized that chuckling. Quickly, the former asked, “Uh… Zoey?”

“Ohoho, do I have a doozy of an idea!” Zoey gleefully responded as she pulled an apple out of her pocket and crushed it beneath her hand. “They will feel my wrath!”

But in the office of the perpetrator, it was an entirely different story.

Yoon Suk Yeol was sitting in a fancy chair, his brow furled, his eyes glued to the TV as sweat poured down his face. Every minute the news report had been on, he had neither seen nor heard what he wanted. If anything, all he saw was more people lining up outside the National Assembly with the sole purpose of stopping him. And it made him all the more furious.

<I gave these people everything!> he mused in his native Korean tongue. <I removed the worst men in government, I offered protection against that monster up north, and THIS is how they repay me? INGRATES!> He smashed the items on his desk in rage as he kept ranting, <I AM THE FUTURE OF KOREA! I AM REMOVING THE LAST OBSTACLE TOWARDS THAT, AND THE PEOPLE STILL STAND AGAINST ME!>

But his rage soon turned to terror as he heard a deep, sinister voice inside his head. “Yes, Mister Yoon. The people tend to be so ungrateful.”

<L — Lord Gwi-Ma!> The would-be dictator found that his own thoughts were no longer present, instead being dominated by a multitude of taunting words filling every corner of his brain. <I… I didn’t expect you to —>

Soon, his own body was lifted and slammed against the TV screen! As his face was pressed against it, the Demon King said with a calm fury, “Look closely. I want you to pay attention to what is happening in your own capital.”

<Er… nothing?>

With more of a boom in his voice than ever, Gwi-Ma replied, “Precisely.” He dropped Yoon as he disappointingly said, “Nothing is happening. Korea still remains free. The National Assembly still plots your removal, even now. And the Honmoon remains intact.”

<But… but… It’s not my fault!> Yoon protested. <My men refuse to shoot the people standing in their way! And those pesky singers aren’t even there!>

Gwi-Ma quickly corrected him. “Then, you’re not looking very hard. They are there. Even now, they hide in plain sight, joining Korea in solidarity, rejecting your name as the man who led her people. If you continue to act with such foolishness, you will lose everything. Your shame will become all that defines you, and the demons… they will never know the joys of consuming the souls of humanity.” As if to twist the knife further, Yoon suddenly felt his body changing — and in a nearby mirror, he appeared as a demon!

“The Honmoon falls tonight — or you do. So, I suggest you decide which is more important.” With that, the Demon King’s voice faded from his mind, as did his demonic transformation. 

His rage soon returned, intermixed with the panic he faced about being dragged away by Gwi-Ma. Rushing to grab his phone, he angrily shouted, <OPEN FIRE ON EVERY CIVILIAN IN THE AREA! TELL THEM THAT IF THE NATIONAL ASSEMBLY DOESN’T HALT THIS TREASON NOW, I WILL IMMEDIATELY STRIKE DOWN EVERY LAST PROTESTOR AS TRAITORS TO THIS NATION! AND FIND! THOSE! DEMON HUNTERS!>

Back at the protest, the orders were coming in loud and clear — just as Zoey was about to enact her crazy plan. With her own phone pulled out, she said, “Bobby, you ready up there?”

“Well, I’m actually terrified out of my gourd, but hey, for you girls — and to ensure our nation doesn’t end up under a dictator — I’m as ready as I’ll ever be!” The voice on the other end of the phone was that of Bobby, the girls’ manager. The man was probably as good as they came, handling everything from scheduling to… well, whatever scheme Zoey had planned. But hey, he did say he’d do anything for his girls. 

Mira tries to assuage Bobby by saying, “You got this, Bobby! Just remember: be brooding!”

“Yes! Brooding!” he replied. “Totally can do that! Also, it’s very windy up here, and I think this costume’s a tad bit tight!”

Rumi replied, “I know it’s a bit last-minute, but you can do this!” But then, she saw that one of the disguised demons was loading his gun… “Might wanna hurry! Do it, now!”

“On it! Wish me luck!” He immediately hung up, as one of the soldiers started barking at the “officer” to stand down. But this demon just snickered as he began aiming his weapon at a child!

Rumi’s first instinct was to run to the kid. And run she did, despite the risk. Instinctively, she knew that Gwi-Ma and Yoon were trying to lure her out of the crowd by doing something so dastardly. But, she couldn’t watch a kid die. Or worse, if they hit the kid’s parent and left her an orphan, that she couldn’t especially stand, given her own troubled history without either parent in her life. 

She could see the look in the kid’s eyes, as the young child was gripped tightly by her mother, the disgusted demon grinning and almost breaking his cover as his sinisterly sharp teeth shone through. Rumi was terrified she wouldn’t make it. But then…

“LOOK! UP THERE!”

The demon stopped, as thankfully his attention was drawn to the top of the National Assembly building — along with everyone else’s. In the midst of all the commotion, someone had snuck onto the roof, and from that far of a distance, it appeared to be the last person Yoon or Gwi-Ma wanted at that moment. Yoon’s own worries shot through the roof as the soldiers surrounding the area shone the spotlight towards the roof. <NO! NOT HIM!>

“Oh, yes, him.” Mira snarked in the crowd. Almost as if she knew what Yoon was saying. 

BATMAN.

The Dark Knight of Gotham City, the Caped Crusader, the living terror to the criminal underworld at large. All this and more couldn’t even begin to describe Batman. Normally, most would brush off the sudden appearance of a man dressed like a bat — but this wasn’t the real world anymore. He was real, now. And when he was involved, it always spelled trouble for whoever was involved. Except Rumi was chuckling, because she knew who was really up there.

“Stay brooding, Bobby, stay brooding. Think angsty, dark thoughts…” Yeah, that wasn’t Batman on top of the roof, but Bobby in a Batman costume. How he got up there is anyone’s guess, and the suit was clearly very tight on him, but he was holding out to ensure HUNTR/X could do what they needed. 

Down on the ground, Zoey was grinning with such glee that she exclaimed, “See? I told you it would work!”

“Bobby did his part,” Mira replied, trying to hold in a chuckle at how Zoey’s plan actually worked. “Now, let’s do ours.” 

Nearby, Rumi quickly checked to make sure the kid was ok after that little scare, then rushed over to her teammates. “This was once one of Celine’s favorites. Ready to sing out the cry of freedom?”

“LET’S DO THIS,” replied Zoey with the most enthusiastic of passions. And so, as an uplifting rock beat began to play, too did the familiar glow of the Honmoon rush underneath the trio as they started a song now that the military was distracted. And they only had one song in mind, as Rumi led off. 

“There’s so much to you that I am thankful for,”

“In good times and bad, you’ve opened so many doors,”

Mira followed up as she drove her gok-do through that very same demon who was about to kill the kid. 

“Close your eyes and pick up the clues, believe that it’s true.”

“Neoreul hyanghan nae nunbicheul!”

As more demons rushed up to try and reinforce their brethren, they quickly found Zoey’s throwing shin-kal slicing right through their faces.

“Don't wait for the world to make your wish come true,’

“It just doesn’t matter if we’re with you.”

The three girls shed their outfits, revealing they’d decked themselves out with their usual HUNTR/X performance gear underneath – and the regular soldiers were too busy to notice as all three of them harmonized.

“Though the future is still unclear, I know what I want.”

“HUNTR/X just don’t give up!”

“GET THEM! GET – “ One of the demons tried to summon the other soldiers to turn around, but even as the music was picking up, they were too distracted by the “Batman” on the roof to notice (probably assuming it was just background noise from one of the protestors; K-pop music was all too commonly played at such events like this). But even he was cut down as the Honmoon touched him and made him turn to ash. The chorus then began as the HUNTR/X girls seamlessly weaved the dance choreography made famous by Girls’ Generation in the real world into their musical battle routine, providing one hell of a spectacle as the Honmoon glittered all around.

“Byeonchi aneul sarangeuro jikyeo jwo!”

“My torn-up heart is for you to sew,”

“When I look at you, time is frozen in place.”

“When we’re together, no words are needed.”

Quickly, Gwi-Ma’s words echoed into the minds of his demons. “THERE THEY ARE! GET THEM!” Alas, for them, it was about to be the biggest curbstomp of their lives. 

“I love you, just like this, from heaven to hell,”

“The old world is gone, and what’s changed, we can’t tell!”

“Into the new world, our journey’s long!”

“Seulpeum ijen annyeong!”

“Every song, every tale, every story and saga,”

“Huimihan bicheul nan jjochaga!”

“Hand in hand, we’re hunters, voices ever stronger,”

“‘Til despair can’t win any longer.”

“Byeonchi aneul sarangeuro jikyeo jwo!”

“My torn-up heart for you to sew,”

“When I look at you, time is frozen in place.”

“When we’re together, no words are needed.”

“No… NO!!! ATTACK THEM WITH EVERYTHING YOU GOT!” Gwi-Ma’s bellowing voice echoed in the minds of the demon soldiers as their markings glowed with an indescribable fury. As HUNTR/X continued to fight and sing, the Honmoon shone ever brighter with beautiful iridescent light.

“Keep it up, guys! Almost there!” shouted Rumi in encouragement. Meanwhile, Mira was performing some sick breakdancing moves as she cleaved a bunch of enemy soldiers in half.

But most notably, during the instrumental break, Zoey broke into one of her famous fire-spittin’ raps – something that the song didn't originally have – all while beating down Yoon's “soldiers” to the beat:

“Uh, together we're all bigger than a manbaby despot!”

“Got no love for his people, makin’ him less than useless!”

“We're the ants, he's the grasshopper! Ulineun geudeulboda deul manhda!”

“Our bonds and protection will shine throughout Korea!”

“Open your hearts and raise your chins! I sungan uri hamkke, we'll win!”

“‘Cuz he ain't nothing more than a jenjang hateful harlequin!”

“Spittin’ bars and fighting words, kickin’ fascists to the curb!”

“HUNTR/X serves the people, and Mr. Yoon just got served!”

As the music swelled up again after the instrumental break, the girls began to sing again – and the protestors joined in!

“Don't wait for the world to make your wish come true,”

“It just doesn’t matter if we’re with you.”

“Though the future is still unclear, I know what I want.”

“HUNTR/X just don’t give up!”

“Byeonchi aneul sarangeuro jikyeo jwo!”

“My torn-up heart is for you to sew,”

“When I look at you, time is frozen in place.”

“When we’re together, no words are needed.”

“I love you, just like this, from heaven to hell,”

“The old world is gone, and what’s changed, we can’t tell!”

“Into the new world, our journey’s long!”

“Seulpeum ijen annyeong!”

“Every song, every tale, every story and saga,”

“Huimihan bicheul nan jjochaga!”

“Hand in hand, we’re hunters, together we’ll all take flight,”

“Into this new world of light!”

The battle raged on as the music continued, but it was a dazzling sight more than anything, with Rumi’s, Mira’s, and Zoey’s colorful weapons lighting up the darkness around them and slaying the foul beasts posing as soldiers. Each of the girls then took turns singing a line of the bridge as they continued the beatdown, advancing on Yoon:

“I feel alone out in the everlasting dark,”

“But come with me and we’ll make our mark,”

“I sungan, your breath of life is giving me strength,”

“We’ll share our emotions at length!”

As the music shifted up, all three HUNTR/X girls began to sing together again, along with the crowd, as they approached Yoon from all directions and slapped him silly, putting him in restraints as the Honmoon clearly caused him to struggle.

“I love you, just like this, from heaven to hell,”

“The old world is gone, and what’s changed, we can’t tell!”

“Into the new world, our journey’s long!”

“Seulpeum ijen annyeong!”

“Just the thought of you makes me stronger than before (Ooh-ooh, ooh-ooh-ooh)!”

“Together, we won’t cry no more (Help me)!”

“Hand in hand, we’re hunters, follow us together,”

“Into a kinder world than ever!”

“Your days are numbered, Yoon,” boasted Rumi as she tied up the wannabe dictator with ethereal, iridescent ropes of light. 

“And so are yours… Gwi-Ma,” added Mira as she glared at Yoon, then into the distance as if the Demon King was right there.

“And so are yours… Donald Trump,” added Zoey as she glanced in what she thought was the general direction of the United States. “I’ll make damn sure of that.”

<No! HUNTR/X! Please, hear me out!> screamed Yoon as he was at the mercy of Korea’s most famous pop stars slash demon hunters. As the last demon was felled and Yoon struggled with his restraints, HUNTR/X stood proudly on the steps of the National Assembly, seeing the Honmoon hold strong against Gwi-Ma’s latest scheme, while the crowds cheered at such a display of finesse. 

Rumi then turned to the crowd. “THE HONMOON HAS BEEN SEALED! THE PEOPLE! UNITED! WILL NEVER BE DEFEATED!” she shouted triumphantly. Mira and Zoey then joined in too, leading the crowd in a repeated chant. “THE PEOPLE! UNITED! WILL NEVER BE DEFEATED!” All the while, the military had given pause to the coup, while the trio’s smartphones lit up with notifications that brought big old smiles to their faces. “NATIONAL ASSEMBLY UNANIMOUSLY DECLARES MARTIAL LAW IS OVER.”

“WE DID IT!” Zoey exclaimed as she grabbed her teammates in a hug, tears of joy streaming down her face, her enthusiasm having been reignited in their moment of triumph. And indeed, this was a moment of triumph worth celebrating. They stopped Yoon. They stopped Gwi-Ma. And now, the military was finally standing down, lowering their weapons as they gazed upon the K-pop idols, listening to the cheering crowds. 

“HUNTR/X! HUNTR/X! HUNTR/X!”

Well, sure, it was all smiles for the girls, but for Yoon, who was witnessing the last chance of holding power slip through his fingers, it was an entirely different matter. <No! NO! NONONONONONONO! I WAS SO CLOSE! I HAD THEM RIGHT WHERE I WANTED THEM! HOW COULD I —?>

He never got a chance to finish his thought. Within seconds of his rant, he found himself in hell — or at least one of the many hells that now dotted this landscape. Unfortunately for him, this was the one hell he didn’t want to be in, as atop a stairway stood none other than his partner in the affair, shaped as a giant flame. “So much for 'The Future Of Korea'.”

<YOU!> Yoon yelled out in fury. <YOU PROMISED ME THIS WOULD WORK! YOU PROMISED THAT I WOULD HAVE MY POWER!> But, the Demon King didn’t seem all that impressed with his minion’s ramblings. Instead, he telepathically grabbed the man and rushed him up to the top of the stairs. 

With the now ex-President in his grip, Gwi-Ma calmly glared at his new minion, almost amused that Yoon had the balls to say something so bold. “I didn’t promise you anything. I only saw the shame within your heart, and offered you the means to retain your power. You chose to accept my gift — now you must live with your choices.”

<BUT KOREA —>

The Demon King chuckled and told Yoon, “They won’t miss you. After what you did, you became so overwhelmed with shame that you took your own life. Your legacy will be one of disgrace — in both life and in death. Whenever they mention your name, it will only be to mock that you could never be the leader you so desperately wanted to be.”

Yoon wanted to say something that could snipe back at Gwi-Ma. Maybe blame him for the whole fiasco. Yet, he could find no strength to say anything, nor could he even think of the words. All he could feel at that moment was an intense shame that held his entire being, and he slumped over as the feeling overwhelmed him. “That’s what I thought… but I suppose HUNTR/X is still proving more of a problem than I believed. Perhaps it’s time I change tactics…”

Nearby, hiding in a corner, a handsome-looking demon wearing the outfit of a traditional Saja was in the midst of stroking Derpy, holding a flyer for the upcoming tour that Rumi, Mira, and Zoey had planned for the 2025 season. In a soft, deep voice, he chucked, “Oh, you will. Just after your current plans go up in smoke…”

“WHAT?! YOU MEAN THAT YUTZ, YOON, WENT TA GWI-MA?!”

It was the other underworld that ol’ Hades himself was getting the news that Yoon was not amongst the latest batch of souls plum for torment. And it was to the chagrin of his two bumbling imp minions, Pain and Panic, that they had to be the ones to deliver the news. “Er… yeah, it happened, boss,” groused the former.

“Not that we didn’t try!” the latter tried to explain. 

Pain nervously added, “But…

“But, it turns out the guy was already on another contract, so…” Panic immediately darted behind a column with his cohort, expecting their boss to explode and take out half the underworld with him. If there was one thing Hades was very fond of doing, it was making the duo his favorite little punching bags. 

Instead, Hades let out a heavy sigh and said, “Oy, that’s the problem with a merged reality; everyone wants a piece of the pie! Some schmoe bites it and he’s bein’ moseyed around by some other jerk, I’m the one who falls behind on quotas!” He facepalmed — at least until he heard the screams of another man who once was a dictator from Korea, although it was the Northern side of things. “Ah, well. At least I managed ta snag the biggest piece of the pie.”

“That’s right, Mister Kim!” exclaimed the not-so-soothing voice of Barney the Dinosaur, now an employee of Hades himself after his gruesome demise. “We’re gonna have so much fun together! It’s too bad Mister Yoon couldn’t join us, but that’s ok! I’m sure he’s having a super-dee-duper time with the giant fireplace!”

The sheer screams of agony coming from the late dictator of North Korea were of utter, sheer, ear-splitting agony that brought a big old smile to Hades’ face. The moment the dino doofus had dropped dead thanks to “Uncle Gnashy”, every gut instinct told him he had to swoop up this guy and bring him back. Granted, he’d only been getting adjusted to the fact that there were at least a few dozen underworlds out there besides his own, but it became very clear that Barney was something utterly detestable beyond measure. If these other schmoes were out there, why not one-up them with the one thing almost everyone seemed to hate?

“You know,” Pain said, “I gotta admit, Barney is actually working out!”

Panic nodded in agreement. “Who would have thought he’d be such an effective torture weapon?”

“They can’t stand him in the least!” replied Pain. “I haven’t heard this many screams since we added the news package to the torture room!”

Panic then remembered something a bit less pleasant. “At least he isn’t like Cool Cat. Remember him?”

“I only wish I could wash that stupid cat out of my brain!” exclaimed Pain. “Yeah, he drove people up the wall, but every time somebody said that word…”

Panic sighed. “Why in the name of the boss did that Doctor Ant Dick or whatever curse him to die whenever somebody says the word “Kleppf” anyway?”

“Who knows?” replied his cohort. “That hairball ain’t our problem anymore! He’s off wandering the world doin’ who knows what, while we got the top new preschool torture minion around!”

Laughing almost maniacally, Panic said, “Yes, sir! Things are looking up! We’ve got the whole underworld in our grip, and Barney’s the one doing the gripping!”

“Man, Barney’s the best thing that ever happened to us!” agreed Pain. “We’re gonna be livin’ like kings from now on!”

Little did they know that hiding in the shadows, an angry-looking walking star with big old eyes was glaring at the dumbassasaur, his own fury fixated on Barney’s existence. It seemed that even his own fury was far beyond that of the average Joe, for Starwalker was boiling over with an anger that could rival the heat of the sun.

In his little bitcrushed voice, he declared, “This dinosaur is Pissing me off… I’m the original                                          Starwalker”

The Present Day

“I still can’t believe that actually happened…”

After recounting their new experience in having stopped a major coup attempt, HUNTR/X was now reconciling the fact that they played a hand in helping to stop Yoon’s attempts at total control of their country — and the fact that Gwi-Ma made him into a demon. It almost seemed unbelievable. Well, to everyone except Zoey, who pretty much embraced the idea wholeheartedly. “We actually got to influence global events! ISN’T THAT THE COOLEST?”

“We literally do that every time we’re on stage,” Mira snarked, though she couldn’t help but realize that those events being part of their history had a certain appeal to them. “But, making that slimeball squirm was totally worth it.”

Rumi shrugged her shoulders, a lot still weighing on her mind. “I mean… sure, it’s great we have all this going on and that merging with all these other realities hasn’t changed who we are… but I’ve got this nagging feeling that something else is staring us right in the face – and it’s worse than Gwi-Ma.”

“That’s a short list,” Mira replied. “I mean, what could be worse than a Demon King?”

Zoey chimed in by rambling off a list. “Well, there’s robotic warlords, Horsemen of the Apocalypse, monsters with a near-total source of power, mad scientists who also happen to be super rich, gods from numerous mythologies –”

“That’s my point,” Rumi interrupted. “We’re demon hunters, sure, but all these new powers out there? We have no idea how to face them. Maybe demon-like beings, sure, but even then, who knows how powerful they might be?”

Silence momentarily filled the room. In all the excitement of learning, they now existed in the same space as Mickey Mouse and Bugs Bunny, HUNTR/X was just realizing that all those years of training against Gwi-Ma would amount to almost nothing against beings like Maleficent or Doctor Doom. It was a strange new world indeed… and this time, they really were out there on their own.

Luckily, Zoey’s brain clicked with an idea – or probably 57 of them, knowing her. “Oh! I think I got it! HUNTR/X needs to go global!”

“We already are global, Zoey.” Mira gently replied.

Realizing she wasn’t specific, Zoey quickly corrected herself. “No, no, I mean we go global! We’re back on a world tour now, right? And we just saw we’re not the only heroes out there! So…” Like lightning, she rapidly scrolled through numerous pictures on her phone, displaying numerous pop culture teams that now existed in the fictionalized world. Despite the rapid pace at which she was scrolling, it was a slew of recognizable faces – the Justice League, the Avengers, G.I. Joe, the Autobots, the Ghostbusters, the Smash tournament roster, and even the Devil May Cry agency, just to name a few.

“I mean… do you honestly think they’d be willing to help?” Rumi asked, her own concerns not entirely alleviated. “I know they’re heroes and all, but they may not know who we are or what we do. Even if they did, they may have their own struggles in this crazy mashup. Especially if their own enemies came with them.”

A valid concern it may be, Mira seemed to have an idea of her own; an idea she quickly shared with her friend. “Rumi, I think everyone is still getting adjusted to this whole thing. And honestly, I don’t think they ever will be adjusted. And yeah, they may have a lot going on, but it wouldn’t hurt to try. Look at us – we destroyed Gwi-Ma and the Saja Boys before they consumed Korea. We overcame the demons haunting us. And you managed to embrace a side of yourself you spent years trying to hide. And we did it together. We faced the end of the world; we can face the beginning of a new one the same way.”

Mira’s empathetic smile and pride in her own bandmate’s growth since that faithful day made Rumi smile right back. It made her chuckle at how long she’d spent hiding this other side of herself, only for the very women she considered to be sisters to accept her – markings and all. Her fears may be justified, but the unconditional support Mira and Zoey gave her was a much-needed reminder that she was never alone in all of this.

“Thanks, guys.”

Lightly jabbing her on the arm, Mira said, “Hey, HUNTR/X don’t quit, remember? Now, Zoey, how many ideas have you got brewing for some new allies?”

“257!” the young rapper exclaimed as she was holding up massive stacks of notebooks she had scribbled through in no time flat, a big old grin on her face that could put The Joker’s to shame. “And that’s only just in the last 30 seconds! I GOT MORE COMING!”

Getting back to work on more team-up ideas, Zoey kept scribbling away as Rumi realized, “Speaking of time, we do have that flight to our next concert to catch. You know, the one where Envy Adams is opening for us?”

“Finally,” Mira replied, “You have no idea how much I’ve been dying to visit Toronto! I am going to load up on so much poutine when we land!” She grabbed her suitcase and said, “Zoey! Come on! Hogtown’s calling our name!”

Just as rapidly as she produced them, Zoey packed her notebooks away into a suitcase as she replied, “Coming! Eee! I can’t wait to see those Red Pandas they have in the Toronto Zoo!”

“You know they have that kid who turns into a giant Red Panda in town, right?” Mira pointed out. “Mei, I think? You remember – the one whose mom turned into a giant red panda kaiju and destroyed a baseball stadium?”

Zoey quickly replied, “Oh, I haven’t forgotten! I watched Turning Red like 27 times!” 

“Speaking of Toronto,” Mira said, “Think we should crash at Maggie’s place?”

Rumi replied, “It would be nice to see Maggie again. But, it’s not like we can't afford a fancy hotel! Let’s stay at the Ritz-Carlton or the Shangri-La. Gotta take advantage of the amenities and get in the best headspace we can before the show.”

“I call spa treatment for the first thing we do!” exclaimed Zoey as the trio, now packed and ready to go, gathered into the elevator for the ride down – and for their first step into a much larger world than even they could have imagined. And thus was the start of…

THE TV TROPES CHARACTER CROSSOVER WAR

Chapter Text

This chapter is dedicated to James Earl Jones (1931-2024), the voice of Darth Vader.

South Korea, 1597

“No! How could you–”

The young nobleman, formerly a peasant, was completely distraught and caught off guard. He then turned to the purple flame creature behind him. “This is all your fault! You knew that this would entail breaking my previous contract!”

“Of course. It’s what we demons do,” said what was clearly the Demon King Gwi-Ma.

“But, my family…” said the young man. “You said you’d help lift them out of poverty, together with me!”

“I never said what I’d do about your previous contractor,” Gwi-Ma replied. “Perhaps you should’ve settled for someone a bit less… possessive.”

And right next to the young man were his mother and sister, dying from what seemed to be gunshot wounds. The man began to cry as Gwi-Ma laughed sadistically.

“Ouch… way ta rub salt in the open wound. And said wound is practically a mile deep.” Soon, the voice of Deadpool called out as he snarkily said, “Wonder why this little number is at the start of the chapter all of a sudden? I can’t say because, unlike some people, I don’t give away spoilers. That being said, what I can tell you is that this is gonna come back around way, way later. Trust me, you’ll know it when you see it. Also, wow, is Gwi-Ma a total dick.”

But suddenly, another demonic voice chimed in…

“Makima… open your eyes…” 

Japan, Present Day

What was this voice in her head?

“My child… Makima…” 

The voice was unfamiliar, and yet at the same time… familiar. Sinister and commanding, but deep and fatherly. Soothing and reassuring, but at the same time, with murderous, self-serving intent behind it.

“Rise, and fulfill your destiny as the Heir of Devils… ha ha ha ha… ha ha HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA!!!” 

As the voice in her head crescendoed into a full-throated evil laugh, it was with a sudden jolt that she awakened. In a dimly lit office in Tokyo, Japan, what appeared at first to be a 26-year-old redheaded woman spontaneously rose. But this was no human -- Makima, the Control Devil, suddenly found herself back at Division 4 of the Public Safety Devil Hunters Bureau. A sense of weariness fell over her. It’s almost as if she’d been asleep.

No, that wasn’t it. She’d been dead.

It all came back to her. Denji – the host of her beloved Pochita – had killed her.

How? She couldn’t die. She was Control. She was the Horseman of Conquest. She had seen fit that nothing could kill her. If any harm were to come to her, some poor, random soul would suffer such a fate. It was part of her deal with the Prime Minister in exchange for her services. No Devil Contract could be broken.

She touched her arms, feeling as if something was missing. Then, she realized Denji had managed to find a loophole. He used the Blood Fiend’s own chainsaw to slice her into itty-bitty pieces, then he took it upon himself to consume her. Not as Chainsaw Man, mind you, but as just plain old Denji – the scrawny, pathetic whelp she’d found in the streets, whom she’d groomed and manipulated into her pawn so she could reunite with her true lover from within. He, of all people, managed to find a way around the contract. 

He knew he couldn’t consume her as Chainsaw Man; if he did, anything he took within himself would be erased from all of existence. This was her dream after all, to let Pochita consume her so she could finally be with him. And without her, there would be no control. Chaos would reign supreme. But instead, he had the indignity to deny her even that, instead eating her remains as his human self so “she could become part of him”. And with that, Makima ceased to exist. Gone was the woman who was the Control Devil, and instead came Nayuta, another troubled brat who refused to embrace her full powers because of Denji’s influence. And then, she, too, died, served up as a severed head and given to Denji in the same way he killed Makima.

Dying twice, each as a different person. And yet here she was, recalling all that had transpired to her. Not just as Makima, but as Nayuta. She took a deep breath, thinking back further. 

Nothing. There was still a cloudiness within her mind.

“A cloudiness? Really, writer?” Deadpool said once more. “Guy, you couldn’t have picked a worse adjective! Sigh… anyhoo, ladies and gentlemen, meet the bad guy. Or as you might know her, Makima. She’s practically every guy’s dream gal – tall, dominating, smoking hot – except she’s also the asshole who would fuck said guy over by cruelly ripping out his heart after months of grooming him into thinking he had it good, then stomping all over it while she laughed her ass off. So why is it that she’s currently alive, not having passed into the sewers of Tokyo after a few hours' worth of digestion from Denji’s stomach, while being reborn as some little kid trying to resist being the big bad Control Devil? Well, needless to say, our aspiring cosplay queen has seen fit that her favorite villainess has taken center stage as the ultimate baddie. Oh, by the way, Makima, might wanna check your email there.”

Ping! 

A message appeared on her computer. Curiosity got the better of her. She reached down and checked it. An email message? She clicked the link. Ahoy, me hearties! The Krusty Krab is servin’ up the new Krabby Kombo meal, only $5.99! Argh-argh-argh-argh! 

Oh, another drivel advertisement from that brain-dead network, she thought. As a cinephile, she certainly had little time to bother with such nonsense. 

Another ping! This time, an email from… The Daily Bugle? An advertisement from a Marvel Comics newspaper? And on the headline, it reads “Teenage Mystery Solvers Unmask The Chameleon”? She looked closer, and it had all the right names she would expect – the front page is written by J. Jonah Jameson (who, of course, is ranting about Spider-Man somewhere), the picture was explicitly taken by the usual Peter Parker – but these mystery solvers are four teenagers and a dog? The gang from Scooby-Doo?

Now, this was intriguing. Something in the back of her mind suggested that this may have just been a gag someone photoshopped and slapped on Deviantart. But her curiosity demanded she investigate further. Soon, she was seeing a whole slew of news articles that otherwise hadn’t been possible before; reports that a mysterious Dark Knight was spotted investigating a case in Tokyo about some mysterious being called Kira, a financial report from McDuck Enterprises, an ad for HUNTR/X's latest album (given that we spent last chapter hyping them up...), even pictures of some braggart wrestler named Scott Steiner trying to fight some hunk of muscle called the Hulk.

She put her fingers over her lips. This was no fever dream. No, something wonderful had happened – the worlds had merged into one.

And in doing so, she’d made her way back to life.

A sadistic smirk appeared on her face. 

So, the worlds have become one. And in doing so, whatever fate Denji subjected me to has been undone. I wonder if that little pup is still wandering around somewhere. Imagine how surprised he’ll be to see me. 

But locating Denji would have to wait. It was clear now that in this new world, there was a much greater risk. She knew that even with her Devil Contract with the Japanese Prime Minister now back in place, she needed allies – no, a new pack to serve at her whims. To enter into this realm would be a fool’s gambit if she didn’t have some backup plan. If Denji could find a loophole, she knew there were other powers out there that could potentially hurt, if not kill, her.

But, where to look?

Another ping showed up, delivering the answer she sought. 

An invitation to Villain Con. 

Something about this invite gave her mixed feelings. In the nearly 25-year limbo between her previous deaths and the present day, she had somehow acquired knowledge of the Despicable Me series and considered it nothing more than cinematic junk food. The corporate feel, the multiple Minion jokes, the fact that its protagonist was no longer a villain… but still, Villain Con, at least as far as she knew, was supposed to be the ultimate convention for current, former, and future evil-doers alike. And today, she had just been made a guest. 

Dear Meess Makima, the letter started with. It has come to our attention that you, one of the greatest anime veellains of the modern generation, have yet to attend our prestigious convention. As such, it is my great pleasoor that you are invited to Veelain Con, the biggest gathering of past and future evil-doers alike! We hope that you can take time out of your vory busy schedule to join us! 

With regards, 

Felonius Gru. 

“Don’t worry, folks,” Deadpool’s voice spoke up again, “This isn’t going to be a Despicable Me fanfic, and you won't be seeing much of Channing Tatum's Cajun dialogue coaches. See, ol’ Notfenshmirtz actually has his own SDCP – which, once upon a time, used to be the Villain Con for TV Tropes. Had a whole slew of baddies showing up, though you can guess which people pretty much shot that idea down to hell. So dem writer guys and gals took the time to make sure that gag found its way into the story, and you can guess who’s gonna be the guest of honor. Wish it could be me, but I got a lifetime ban from Villain Con; on that note, never attempt to steal somebody’s guns, then beat him over the head to death with them when he catches you stealing them. Jackass wouldn’t let me buy them anyway…

Still the same old Gru, and with the same unusual accent, which he saw fit to write with for reasons unknown. But as long as there was an opportunity, she had never been one to pass up a chance to get new dogs for her to housebreak. Especially if she ran into those who would be willing to serve her for once. It would make things far easier if she had an army of innocents who would keep Denji from harming them, what with his precious morals…

One Day Later… 

In sunny Orlando, Florida, Makima stepped off a plane at Orlando International Airport. It had been a long flight, but it was easy to get first-class accommodations if you could be “persuasive” enough to the staff. At least a private jet could get her where she needed to go. 

With a suitcase in hand and with the blistering summer heat beating down on her, she strutted her way past curious onlookers and the wolf-whistling men catching a glimpse, while she ordered some Burger King and called for a taxi. The driver pulled up, and she got in.

The driver asked, “Where to, Missy?”

“Villain Con,” replied Makima in her usual alluring but serious voice. She didn't know if this was supposed to be a secret event, but she didn't care. The chances of this driver driving off in any state to tell anyone weren't high anyway.

Within seconds, the driver stepped on the gas. He couldn’t help but be taken in by Makima’s beauty as she adjusted her makeup, doing his best not to let her looks take his eyes off the road. Her loosely braided auburn hair, piercing, ringed yellow eyes, and delicate features made for a stunningly unforgettable visage. Trying to make conversation, he nervously asked the Control Devil, “So, uh…you attendin’ Villain Con, right? Are you a big fan of any of them?”

“You could say that.” She looked over the guest panel and saw a lot of familiar names – besides Gru, there was some hotheaded lord of the dead named Hades, a musical themed villain calling himself “The Music Meister”, Plankton, Bowser, some glitch named Spamton G. Spamton, Dr. Eggman, a K-Pop boy band known as the "Saja Boys", two robots both named Megatron, and a whole slew of other no-names she didn’t care about. But, one in particular caught her eye…

“Hey, who can blame ya? They got a whole lot of heavy hitters out there. Me? If I wasn’t so busy gettin’ folks around, I’d go and check out that Monika chick they say’s gonna be there. Hoo-hoo, she’s a real tour-de-force, that one!” Clearly, the driver had no idea who he was talking to.

Makima only shrugged. “Being murderously obsessed over one man is hardly enough to qualify as a tour de force. If anything, her ambitions are far too small.” Hypocrisy aside, the person she hoped to meet was a man of far greater ambitions.

The driver just laughed. “Hehe, whatever you say, lady! We’re here by the way.” He drove the cab right to the front of a phone booth, which doubled as a secret entranceway into the con. He turned around and said, “That’ll be $6.90.”

Makima just smirks. She looks at the man and says, “I doubt that.”

“What? Lady, are you tryin’ to stiff –” 

A chain flew into his forehead. Suddenly, he lost all will to do anything, except whatever Makima commanded of him.

“Now, be a good dog and drive off. Then, never come back. That’s an order.”

She stepped out of the cab, and the driver did as he was told. As she sighed, glad to be rid of yet another mindless pest, she reached into her bag and pulled out a dog leash, followed by a sign that read “Will Step On You for 500 Yen” in Japanese. She soon walked to a rickety fishing shack. A southern-fried voice answered her on the rusty speaker.

"Welcome to Billy Bob's Bait Shop. How can I help-"

She sighed, remembering their silly password. "'I'm here for so much fun, it's a crime.' Now, let me in before that crime becomes a crime against humanity."

"Hoo boy! Now, that's what we like to hear!" The voice, who'd probably heard several flavors of the same threat today, opened the pedestrian entrance for Makima. She walked down a set of stairs into a massive convention center. And what she saw wasn’t at all what she expected.

Everywhere she looked, she saw effigies, statues, or posters of some of the most famous villains in pop culture history. Darth Vader, Lord Voldemort, Sauron, Maleficent, James Moriarty, Frieza, Sephiroth, Char Aznable, Gendo Ikari, Megatron – all there, hanging while people got their pictures taken with henchmen, buying villain-themed merchandise, having serial killers and murderers autograph pictures for kids and seniors alike. Evil scientists were nearby demonstrating their latest weapons, retired villains gave panels on advice to future evil doers, and some even did book signings for their latest autobiographies. Although there were also signs that showed a giant “NO” sign through Eric Cartman, of all people, with the words “BANNED” splattered right underneath them. 

She felt somewhat confused (aside from that whole Cartman ban – that at least she could figure out easily). For a convention featuring villains, this felt a lot more like a typical meet and greet. She tried to ponder it further, but was suddenly interrupted by a small, puppet-like man with a loud, obnoxious voice.

“HEY        EVERY        !! IT'S ME!!! EV3RY   BUDDY   'S FAVORITE [[Number 1 Rated Salesman1997]] SPAMT- SPAMTON G. SPAMTON!!! WOAH! IF IT ISN''T A... [[Hochi Mama]]?! HEY-HE Y HEY!!! LOOKS LIKE I GOT THE [[Perfect Deal]] 4 YOU! TO ALL MY FELLOW [[Villains]], YOU CAN GET SPAMTON’S [Specil Fun Pak] FOR ONLY 342 KROMER!” Spamton pulled out a small sachet filled with assorted, cheaply-produced chintzy junk with his face and catchphrases on it. “IT’S FUN FOR THE        ! BUY IT NOW OR YOU WILL [[Die]]. IT’S THAT SIMPLE! SO [[Hochi Mama]], ARE YOU  GONNA USE THOSE [[Sweet Cheeks]] A’YOURS TO [[Hyperlink blocked.]]? JUST–”

Makima ignored Spamton’s deranged sales tirade as she continued onwards. She then spotted some jolly-looking elderly Taoist deity sitting on a cloud, shilling what appeared to be "immortality pills" at a booth with signage in Chinese. "Excuse me, miss," he said in a kindly voice, "surely you must be interested in pursuing immortality?"

The Control Devil glared skeptically at the god, who was wearing a nametag that read "Master Wuliang Xianweng / 无量仙翁" in English and Chinese. By his side were by Deero and Crana, his two ethereally beautiful assistants, both clad in white robes.

"Ah, Makima, the Control Devil of Japan!" proclaimed the little old Immortal. "As a spawn of demonkind, you must be aware of the destructive, sinister tendencies of your fellow demons, Devils, Cursed Spirits, magical beasts and the like, no?"

"Yes," replied the redhead, growing slightly frustrated. "And what of it?"

"An angelic beauty such as yourself is unfit for their ranks," Wuliang continued as he handed Makima a pamphlet -- his booth had copies in English and multiple Asian languages, but he specifically picked out one in Japanese for her. "We of the Chan Sect help others on their path towards redemption, so forsake your demonic nature and instead call upon your experience as a Devil Hunter. Join the ranks of the Immortals, and enjoy an eternal and prosperous life! We will be staging an informative dance performance tour--"

With a wave of her hand, Makima dispelled the glamour surrounding Wuliang, Deero and Crana, revealing the leader to have a much wrinklier, less inviting face and his two minions to have the heads of a deer and a crane respectively, befitting their names.  "Demon, and proud," Makima proclaimed with a smug smile as she carried on.

Frustrated, Wuliang turned to his two cohorts. "Just like that damned Korean girl!" he snarled. "They don't know what a true Demon Hunter is! Both of them belong in the cauldron."

Welp, if people are trying to hawk their wares here, maybe I should do the same, Makima thought to herself. She pulled out her leash and her sign when a loud voice appeared over the loudspeaker.

"ATTENTION ALL VEELLAIN-CON ATTENDEES! THEES EES A FAMILY-FRIENDLY EVENT AND KEENK-RELATED ACTIVITIES ARE NOT ALLOWED ON THE CONVENTION GROUNDS! WE THANK YOU FOR YOUR COOPERATION!"

She recognized that screechy Russian-ish voice as Gru’s. “Family-friendly?” she mumbled under her breath. Soon, one of Gru’s Minions grabbed her sign and tore it up. The little yellow mumbler then blew a raspberry her way before driveling into unintelligible gibberish. Something about her following the con rules.

A sense of calm rage flew over her. She always hated those minions. Might as well take care of one of them. She aimed her finger at his body and pointed.

“BANG!”

He fell over – and started laughing? There was no pile of blood and guts on the floor. She tried again.

“BANG!”

Still nothing. He continued to giggle like he was being tickled. How is it still alive?! 

Another BANG. Same result. The demoness was too fixated on figuring out why her lethal blast didn’t work to notice a small gaggle of pig-nosed goblins gathering around her and bowing to her, for some reason.

“Well, no point in bothering.” She decided it’d just be better to walk away, but then a loud voice called out. She turned around and saw Scott Steiner – a raucous wrestler – approaching her.

“WHO'S THAT FINE PIECE OF ASS IN THE SUIT?! HEY SWEETHEA–” 

“BANG!"

Con-goers everywhere soon gasped in shock as what remains of the wrestler painted the floor and the walls. They soon realized that Makima, the dreaded Control Devil, was there. One kid even dropped his ice cream in abject terror. She stared at them all and said, “My, what a disrespectful creature you were, Mr. Steiner. Misbehaving dogs like you need to be housebroken.” A few of the more heartless villains – who happened to be attending this leisurely event – broke out in laughter at the gruesome sight. “Whatever lecherous comments you had for me were hardly worthy of any other response. I do apologize to everyone for the mess.” And without skipping a beat, she walked away as a Minion janitor arrived, sighed heavily, and started to gather the pieces.

“Disgusting beast,” she muttered under her breath. Some men never change. They never did learn their place. She shook her head once more, perhaps hoping someone else would dare to push her buttons again. When suddenly…

“I'm the Music Meister! Greatest villain of them all!”  

The singing… something about it started to annoy her. She pokes around a corner and sees a peculiar man dressed in a purple, musical-themed suit. She’d heard of this Music Meister – AKA Darius Chapel – before, and his ability to control people through his singing, but something was clearly not working for him. The audience was booing, and everywhere she looked, she saw flying tomatoes. Clearly, his powers had been weakened in this new world. 

“LAAAAAAAAAME!” She looked out the corner of her eye and saw a tiny copepod hurling a tomato larger than his body at the Music Meister, all while he slipped into a mocking sing-song voice, imitating the Music Meister’s own tune half-heartedly. "I'm Sheldon J. Plankton! Your powers don't work in this world! I'm Sheldon J. Plankton! Your singing makes me hurl! " 

The Music Meister cried out in pain. “OW! Would you stop throwing those at me! Ingrates!”

She happened to spot one of those tomatoes and decided that singing of his was proving annoying. As the boos continued to grow louder, she grabbed the tomato, muttering to herself. “I appreciate your talent, but not your unwarranted arrogance.” She beaned him right in the face, amusing her even further as he cried out in pain. She started to laugh – something she had only very, very rarely done before, only once when laughing at the pain on poor Denji’s face after he had been forced to be complicit in the death of his best friend, Power, at her hands. Maybe this convention wasn’t a waste of time after all.  

Suddenly, a giant cloud of smoke appeared on stage as Hades himself walked up. He then conjured another crate of tomatoes for the other villains, with "UNDERWORLD TOMATOES — GUARANTEED PUTRID OR YOUR DRACHMAS BACK!" written on the side in an angular, Greek-looking font.

“Oy, Mr. Showtunes. You might wanna turn it down a smidge. My minions are kvetchin' endlessly about all the extra work I’m makin’ ’em put in at this convention, and I don't think they have it in 'em to write up "Pain 'n' Panic: The Musical!" for you right now. Or not make it a disaster, at least.”

Soon, out on stage danced Pain and Panic, Hades’ two dimwitted minions, wearing vaudeville outfits, clearly having been hypnotized by the malevolent maestro. The two of them began to belt out a tune, continuing from the Music Meister’s previous lines, but with not nearly as much talent or wit.

“Oh, mister,”

“Music Meister!” 

“Your voice is so unique!” 

“And that's why,” 

“We'll stick it in the head,”

“Of each and every Greek!” 

Hades just winced at the situation, saying, “...And now, you know why they didn't give me a Villain Song.”

Music Meister just let out a weak laugh before being pulled off the stage by a giant dancing cane. Hades turned to the audience and said, “Folks, what an act, eh? Just goes to show you why you shouldn’t skimp out on hirin’ Metallica.” Everyone laughed and applauded the Lord of the Dead, famous in the world of fictional villains for his charm, quick wit, and overall callousness. “Anyhoo, just as a heads up, we got actual talent comin’ up for the Villain Con Annual Performing Arts, so best tune in! Not literally, of course, since we all know that power ain’t workin’ none!”

“Yep, him again,” Deadpool’s voice said in another fourth-wall break. “You didn’t think he brought Barney back just for shits, did you? … Ok, actually he did. But he also happens to be another favorite of the writing team, since the living Bunsen burner was practically a TV Tropes starling on account of talking like a slimy used car salesman. And since our choo-choo-obsessed writer made his page and considers the guy to be one of his personal favorites, he’s basically the other big bad. And aside from our favorite K-pop singers, pretty much a lead in his own right.

Makima shook her head once more and decided to keep moving on. But then, those two nimrods got in the way, each holding 500 yen in hand – or at least its equivalent in Ancient Greek coinage.

“Excuse me, miss,” said Pain. “Is this enough?”

Panic chimed in. “Yeah! Would you do us the honor?”

“We don’t mind! We’re used to being stepped on!” said Pain.

The two of them transformed into a combined footstool, with a big smile eagerly awaiting Makima to step on them. She just rolled her eyes, but money is money. Before she could do that, however, a grey hand grabbed her arm.

“Ah, ah, ah!” She turned around and came face-to-face with Hades. “Sorry, missy, but these minions of mine are bound to an exclusive contract – nobody manhandles them except me.”

Makima’s face started to grow displeased. “Release my hand.”

Hades did so, if only because he felt an opportunity coming. “Yeah, whatever you say, sugar. Anyhoo, name’s Hades, Lord of the Dead, hi how ya doin’?” He reached out his hand, but she just stood there in dead silence.

“Not much of a talker, are ya? Hey, that’s fine, I can work with that. So, babe – can I call ya, babe? – How’s the old villain con treatin’ ya? Real swanky place, isn’t it?”

Makima just scoffed. “It’s far from what I expected.”

Hades laughed. “Yeah, I know. Mr. Showtunes ain’t exactly Frank Sinatra. Guy goes up thinkin’ he can brainwash those schmoes in the audience, but those pipes of his aren’t up to snuff like they used ta be.”

“Or simply because the world has deemed him a joke,” said Makima.

Hades bawled out in laughter. “HAHAHAHAHA! Oh, you crack me up! Babe, seriously, love the sense of humor. Say, why don’t we just skip the usual business and cut to the chase? I’m hostin’ me a new minions recruitment panel – just scored myself some big purple doofus – and I’d like you to be the guest of honor. After that, I’m thinkin’ we hit up some Italian joint; there’s this place across the street I heard has real class.”

Makima scoffed once again. Another man is trying to hit on her. Typical. “You misunderstand me, Lord Hades. I have no interest in fulfilling your romantic desires.”

“Woah, woah!” Hades exclaimed. “Romantic? Babe, you wanna go down that route, how’s about we at least have ourselves a few trips out on the town first, eh? We get to know each other, we hit it off, we dance, we kiss, we schmooze, come on, what do you say?”

“I would say you need to be HOUSEBROKEN.” She unleashed a chain at Hades, jabbing it right into his forehead. But the Lord of the Dead simply stood there, unamused. At first…

“Hey, nice parlor trick there, but… wait a minute… are you–”

“The Control Devil. And you, Lord Hades, are nothing.” She then slammed another chain into his head, but he still didn’t do anything. She was a little taken aback at first – no one should be able to resist her chains! Not unless he had a strong enough will. But still, Hades started to feel a little uneasy nonetheless.

“Oy… it’s really you… You actually made the trip. Well, I uh–”

“Don’t bother thinking about the matter further. It clearly hasn’t obtained you the throne to Olympus, and it won’t obtain you the means to my respect. I’ve seen better schemes from that petulant Cartman child, and he has no excuse for his actions.” 

Makima walked away, strutting as she left Hades stunned at her words.

In his anger, he blew up and burned the footstool that was Pain and Panic into ashes.

“THAT LITTLE MINX! WHO DOES SHE THINK SHE IS?!” Pain and Panic started to regenerate as they tried to avoid getting hit by another fire blast, but were instead run over by a yellow bucket being driven by a purple dinosaur.

Barney danced out in glee. “Mr. Boss Man! I found a new friend!” He wheeled up the bucket, which carried the remains of Scott Steiner. Hades looked at him with some concern.

“Uh, okay?” Hades looked more confused than ever. “Where in the me’d ya get this goop?”

“I found it outside the bathrooms! It had all sorts of fun stuff in it!” He showed Hades his hands, now covered in Scott Steiner's goop and blood. Even Pain and Panic looked disgusted at it. “Let’s use our imagination to find some fun stuff to do with it! That’ll be super-de-duper!”

Hades wasn’t sure how to make this situation out, but he saw a set of damaged chainmail inside the bucket. He quickly recognized this as Makima’s handiwork and got a devious idea.

Clasping his hands, he grabbed the remains and pulled out Scott Steiner’s soul. He then spoke to the soul. “Well, Scottie, I'm surprised it took you this long to talk up the wrong chick, and it looks like you got Ms. Control Freak herself to make ya a smear on the wall. Not the bang you were expecting, eh Casanova?”

Scott’s soul seemed to perk up slightly.

“Here's what's happening: I’m bringin’ ya back, no strings attached. I'll be blunt: I can't possibly have you stuck in my underworld with all the yelling and the swearing, alright? It's too much! I mean, the guy's gotta sleep, and I can't afford soundproofing. I'll just hire you for nightly wrestling matches. You can fight whoever you want, no-holds-barred; I'm talking total chaos, big sell-out crowds, lots of undead freaks for ya. Ya did something like that back in the 90s, didn't ya?”

Scott’s soul nodded in affirmation while his remains still stood there in the bucket, motionless.

Hades continued his sales pitch. “Besides, if the Control Devil killed ya, it means it'll really annoy her to see you again, and that's just friggin' hilarious to me!”

Scott’s soul seemed to respond by yelling, but was unable to make a sound.

“Okay, back to life ya go!”

The remains of Scott Steiner reassembled themselves back into that mass of muscle he once was. “HELL YEAH! THE BIG BAD BOOTY DADDY'S GONNA MAKE THAT SUIT BITCH’S LIFE A LIVIN' HELL FOR POPPING ME OFF! WATCH OUT CONTROL DEVIL, CAUSE I'M ABOUT TO FRANKENSTEIN YOUR ASS RIGHT BACK TO HELL!” 

Barney did a little happy dance. “Oh boy! Now, I have two new friends! Let’s all sing the happy –”

Before he could speak further, he got splattered into a pile of blood and guts that fell into the bucket, essentially trading places with the raucous wrestler. Pain and Panic noticed that they were just outside the Grinch’s Q&A panel, “How I Stole Christmas – And Gave It Back!”. They looked on in terror as they spotted a familiar, star-like creature with grumpy eyes in the extremely long queue for the panel, having eviscerated Barney simply by being in the same room as him. For some reason.

“This line is Pissing me off... I'm the original          Starwalker”

A blue, silly-looking nobleman next to the original          Starwalker groaned. “Prithee! Yon patience weareth very thin. Feare not, for we shalt obtain Fronte-Row Seatse to Ye Mean One’s talk-eth! GEH HA HA HA!”

The original          Starwalker replied to Rouxls Kaard’s pompous tirade with a simple “K.”

Pain and Panic screamed in frustration, knowing they had to put that dope back together again. Then, the janitor minion showed up and grabbed the bucket, forcing the two to give chase. 

“Yeah, those two are gonna be at that for a while,” joked the voice of the Merc With A Mouth. “And I do mean a while. If you hadn’t already figured it out by now, it’s not gonna end well for Barney in any sense of the word. He’s basically the Sean Bean of this fic… if Sean Bean was wildly miscast.”

Rolling her eyes, the Control Devil then began to hear music coming from a set of loudspeakers – but this was much catchier and better-written than... whatever Pain and Panic came up with on the spot under the Music Meister's influence.

"You're my soda pop, my little soda pop!” 

“Cool me down, you're so hot, pour me up, I won't stop…”

She turned and noticed that the Saja Boys had a booth set up. Manning the booth were the meek Baby Saja, the heartthrob Romance Saja, the swole Abby Saja, and the shaggy-haired Mystery Saja – all soul-eating demons in disguise. Yet, their lead vocalist, Jinu, was nowhere to be seen; in fact, the booth sported a promotional photo of the group, but with Jinu replaced with a silhouette of himself with the caption "THIS COULD BE YOU!"

Yes, after their leader pulled a "redemption equals death" moment, the Saja Boys were scouting out new talent at Villain-Con to find a new frontman. Makima could see Baby and Romance talking to each other and pointing at her, all while the Music Meister found himself punted from the booth (yeah, there's a reason we mentioned him again). The purple flame that at first appeared to be the booth's decor then flared up and started to bellow, vaguely assuming the shape of a mouth:

"I repeat myself, Darius Chapel, you are clearly not Saja material. Let this be the last time you hear this from me, or else..."

"JUST HIRE ME, GWI-MA!" the green-clad maestro screamed. "I once took over the entire world with my music, like so:"

As the Music Meister prepared to overpower the Saja Boys' greatest hits with his own hypnotic melody, Gwi-Ma launched a fireball at the singing villain before he could even open his mouth, causing him to run around and scream in pain. Makima merely shrugged and casually used her powers of control on Mystery Saja. "Be a good boy and keep me in the loop. That's an order," she told the idol as a chain appeared on his forehead and he began to bark like a dog (which was hardly unusual for him). But then, she heard a familiar voice speaking from the sides…

”Mmm, looks like Mister Chapel couldn’t quite measure up. Oh, well. There’s a lot to be learned from this experience. Bring in the next one — and make sure their contact information is jotted down; I might have use for them later.”

She turned around and couldn’t see who was speaking to Gwi-Ma, since the curtains blocked her view, but she could see a man in a grey business suit. Makima couldn’t place it, but the guy sounded an awful lot like Commander Riker. Was that…?

Well, she didn’t have time to check. She had a greater prize to look for.

“Welp, given our new leads, it wasn't a matter of whether the Saja Bishies would show up, but when! But as for their mystery chaperone... sorry, but that’s not gonna get spilled until the next chapter,” snarked Deadpool. “We had some serious rewrites in mind, and this guy got lucky enough to get bumped up big time. Turns out K-Pop Demon Hunters ain’t the only favorite around the Discord…”

With a possible new minion in tow down the line, Makima continued to hum "Soda Pop" to herself (it really was that catchy) as she moved along. Soon, she heard the familiar sound of breathing – her target was close. She walked through a large, childish structure that resembled a Mister Rogers’s Neighborhood set, knocking on the door. An odd-looking man in a red sweater named Bray Wyatt opened the front door and looked upon Makima. Not a sound could be heard in the Fun House, and not one word was exchanged between her and Bray as they stared at one another, Makima smiling serenely while Bray's expression remained hard to read. The lights in the Fun House suddenly went out, quickly replaced by a blood red hue that coated the Fun House set, the camera panning away from Makima to show that Bray was fully replaced by an evil entity known only as The Fiend. 

No, not a Fiend like the ones Makima was familiar with; The Fiend. 

Static interference started to cover the TV screens in the room as a high-pitched ringing sound echoed through the Fun House. The Fiend and Makima didn’t dare break off eye contact, as if waiting for the other to strike first. Makima's eerily calm expression never once faltered. The ringing became increasingly more ear-splitting, the static covering more and more of the screens. Then, suddenly… the Fun House returned to normal. The Fiend was no longer present. Instead, Bray was facing the audience, sporting a smile that conveyed the farthest thing from joy. Makima was nowhere to be seen by them, as if their confrontation had never happened.

Makima continued to walk, unfazed by…whatever the hell that was. Soon, she stood before a tall figure, clad in a black suit of armor, his face obscured by a fearsome mask. 

Yes, she now stood before Darth Vader himself. 

The Galactic Empire had set up a booth at Villain Con, intent on recruiting people from Earth into their ranks. Stormtroopers were walking everywhere, Imperial officers were answering questions, and somehow, Director Orson Krennic had been brought back from his grisly demise at the hands of the first Death Star. It seems this new reality was a lot more generous to certain folks, just like her. Nonetheless, her gaze was held upon the Dark Lord of the Sith. She sensed he didn’t really want to be here; no doubt his master, Emperor Palpatine, had sent him to this place as an abject humiliation. Just like in the old Legends. 

“Darth Vader…” Makima said, her stoic demeanor barely concealing the fact that inside, she was having a little bit of a geek-out standing face-to-face with cinema’s greatest villain. “As a cinephile myself, I'm in awe. I believe we may have met before via the medium of card battle games. Truly a legend in your own right, nearly as deserving of my respect as Chainsaw Man himself. If I can conquer you, you’d prove to be an enforcer unlike any other.”

Vader sensed a familiarity in her, too. A kindred spirit, perhaps? No, this was the Control Devil. He had only very briefly encountered her on an impersonal basis when summoned for battle in the realm of Weiss Schwarz, but had only ever caught passing glimpses of her and her world. Palpatine had warned him that the worlds had merged, having sensed it through his own connections to the Dark Side. She was just one of many possible threats to the Empire, as she too was a woman of ambition – of absolute control, you might say. Still, her presence left him curious. If she were here now, she might yet be of use to him.

From his mask spoke a booming, bass voice. “Young woman, my loyalty is to the Emperor... but I hate the man and wish to overthrow him. Perhaps you may prove to be more beneficial to my ultimate ambitions, Control Devil. But for now, you shall prove to me if you are truly worthy of my consideration!” Within seconds, he ignited his famous red lightsaber, slicing at her arm. Makima was almost amused…almost, as she emerged completely unscathed. Meanwhile, back in Japan, a random Japanese citizen suddenly lost his arm as he cried out in pain at his missing appendage, screaming at the gaping wound. He had no idea that Makima’s Devil Contract with the Japanese Prime Minister meant there was almost nothing that could harm her permanently, and any harm she sustained fell on some sap like him.

Vader’s expression, though unseen, was no doubt one of shock that his weapon did no damage. Makima smirked, knowing that the Sith were unaware of her contract, or of the nature of Devils in general. Still, she’d seen enough. She knew what he truly wanted, and that’s all she needed. She respectfully bowed before Vader. “Thank you for your time, Lord Vader. We shall meet again.” She then walked away, leaving Vader pondering on what had just happened. Even as a group of kids gathered around to take pictures with him, he started to think.

She cannot be harmed so easily? Impossible. No one can…no…no one except her can resist it. Perhaps she may be worth keeping an eye on. 

Vader’s thoughts then turned to that dark day, the day he was transformed into this monstrosity. All he had known was gone – the Jedi Order, his brothership with Obi-Wan Kenobi, his Padawan (at least as far as he knew at the time), his wife…his child. Palpatine had manipulated him into ensuring it all happened, and he had nothing left but a broken body, trapped within this suit for the rest of his unnatural life. He couldn’t forgive himself for what he had done, but he especially couldn’t forgive what Palpatine had done to him. So, he embraced the monster within the armor, knowing that in due time, he would gain enough strength to make his master pay for his sins. And this latest farce, this “Villain Con”, was just one of many. For too long, Palpatine had been aggrandizing himself across the galaxy, carrying out ruthless acts of aggression to satisfy his own ego, rather than actually bothering to run the Empire.

Perhaps it is she who is the key to my revenge.

Meanwhile, Makima’s joy at encountering Vader quickly wore off. She soon sat down on a bench near some of the meet-and-greet booths. Her gaze looked upon many of the other villains present, and none of them impressed her. Here they all were, signing autographs and merchandise rather than actually going out to conquer the world! It was even more pathetic than she thought; no wonder Vader was displeased about being sent to such a place. 

Nearby, she could hear the familiar voice of Felonius Gru giving a panel. That thick…Russian, she thought? Yeah, Russian-esque. That thick Russian-esque accent was babbling about his deeds as a villain before he retired and became an agent for the Anti-Villain League. And people actually liked this? This new world had truly made a mockery of villainy. 

But soon, another voice caught her attention. She turned towards one of the booths and saw a large, purple-colored robot – the Predacon Megatron. Now, there was one of the few villains worthy of her respect. He was a true schemer, and a being who saw humanity for what it was – weak, and in need of control. She honed in and heard one of the con-goers asking him a question.

“Mr. Megatron, is it true you killed Barney?” 

Wait, Barney? That stupid purple dinosaur? The one who was calling Hades "Mr. Boss Man" for some reason?!? Suddenly, Makima had a horrific realization: if all the worlds merged, then that means…

A thought of disgust entered her mind. Preschool shows, she thought. If there was ever a lower form of life, it was those. What were they for? Nothing but mindless drivel meant to get kids to beg their parents to buy boatloads of merchandise. And even if they were more “educational”, what good were they? Actually, teaching kids to think for themselves rather than accepting a proper form of authority? The very idea made her sick. To think children were being raised on it! And to make things worse, she soon saw on her phone that her worst fears were right. There were advertisements on social media encouraging visitors to visit Lazy Town, the Island of Sodor, Barney’s – oh wait, never mind on that one; the ad now said “Now under Predacon management” – and then Sesame Street. Her eyes scowled with fury at the worst of them.  

But her scowl was momentarily distracted when Beast Megatron finally spoke to the con goer. “The rumors are indeed true. I was responsible for putting an end to that pathetic excuse for a creature, yeeeeeees. And it was glorious, right down to the final shot. Let this be a lesson for you, young would-be evildoer. If you bear witness to something truly weak and pathetic, you must not tolerate its existence, nooooooooo. Destroy it, end its pathetic life, and show that you will not let fools be fools in your new empire.”

So, he really did do it. Beast Megatron put an end to that moron. She didn’t know whether to applaud him or thank him for it, seeing as that respect for him didn’t extend to inviting him in on her plans. Makima couldn’t trust him, after all.

“So, that second-rate Saurian schemer saw fit to put that purple pile of patheticness out of his misery?” called out a raspy voice. She turned and saw it was coming from a portly man with a thick, bushy mustache, whom she recognized as Doctor Ivo “Eggman” Robotnik. “Well, it’s about time! I was wondering when someone would get around to putting that brainless sack of polyester out of existence!”

“Hey, Stachey,” she heard Plankton calling out from the booth next to him, “If you wanted that idiot gone, how come you didn’t bother puttin’ a laser beam between those dumb eyes of his?”

Eggman just groaned. “If you must know, I wasn’t going to bother with such nonsense! I have far more important schemes to worry about than the mass extermination of those idiots! Matter of fact, I was going to try and roboticize Sesame Street once upon a time; get rid of those mediocre Muppets and make them my minions. It could have helped me turn those children into my loyal slaves without me having to lift a finger! Alas, that went rather poorly thanks to that pesky hedgehog…”

Plankton’s single eye lit up with glee. A lightbulb appeared over his head as he turned to his computer wife, Karen. “Ooh! Now, there’s an idea! Take notes, Karen, take notes!” Karen started jotting the idea down in her memory banks. 

But Makima, too, overheard the conversation. 

“Hmph. Roboticizing them. Far from a perfect solution, wouldn't you say?” She soon got up and uttered to herself, “I think we need something a lot more permanent.” As she started walking, she once again gazed upon Darth Vader, still left in thought from their earlier encounter. In her mind, she thought Soon, my hound. Very soon. 

She exited from the secret entrance and flagged down another cab. As she got in, she uttered, “Bring me back to the airport. I think it’s time I teach certain creatures a lesson they won’t soon forget…”

“Ooh, yeah, almost forgot,” Deadpool said in a much more serious tone from beyond the confines of the Fourth Wall. “Preschool shows. See, we here at The TV Tropes Character Crossover War know all too well that shows for ages 1-3 usually tend to be shit on a lot… which is what we’re gonna do anyway, because irl reputations make up a lot of this fic. And by sheer coincky-dink, we had five major shows repping the SDCP when we started this whole thing: Sesame Street, Barney and Friends, Thomas and Friends, and LazyTown (total apologies to any Bear In The Big Blue House guys; totally forgot Treelo had a page).”

“Well, you know all those childhood fantasies you all had about watching those 'itty-witty wittwe baby shows' die horribly at the hands of R-rated baddies? You’re gonna regret having any of them in the first place, cause Mommy Devil’s next stop… is Sesame Street!”

Chapter Text

New York City, New York – the Big Apple itself. Far be it from this place to not have a multitude of pop culture legends at their disposal, be it legendary superheroes, heroes in a half shell, ghostbusting boys in beige, and many more in between. But in one part of the city, there was a truly magical place called Sesame Street.

Ok, maybe “magical” is a bit of a strong word, but there was no denying that it was special to many. Several years ago, a man named Jim Henson helped to build it, wanting to give a safe space for an unusual group of creatures called “Muppets” to have a home of their own. For this act of kindness, they took it upon themselves to start providing a place for kids to learn and grow, not to hawk merchandise or tell watered-down stories, but to be a place where everyone could feel welcome, accepted, and most importantly, be prepared for the lives they would soon be facing when they grew up.

Yes, sir, Sesame Street was probably one of the crown jewels of New York, and there was little reason to doubt that claim. These cheery characters like Big Bird, Grover, Cookie Monster, and everyone in between made kids feel happy, and more importantly, made them feel like they belonged. Several folks from big-name celebrities like James Earl Jones and heroes like beloved Rebel Alliance icons like C-3PO and R2-D2 have been among the lucky guests to stop by. 

Sadly, the street wasn’t quite the same anymore. There was a particular group of Muppets who left town many years ago, as a frog named Kermit got the idea for them to take to the stage and put on their own show, well before Disney took them under their care, and couldn’t bring their friends from back home with them. One of the street’s most beloved residents, Mister Hooper, died years ago, and Jim Henson himself had long since passed. One Muppet, Elmo’s cousin Warmbo (a member of a species of the same name where all members looked and acted near-identically), was never welcomed by the residents of the Street for his disruptive behavior, and was exiled to a certain news studio where he quickly took an interest in milquetoast both-sides-ism. But it was safe to say Henson’s legacy lived on, as Sesame Street was still beloved around the world by everyone.

Well, almost everyone.  

When the worlds merged, many of the villains quickly got wind of the street’s existence. To them, it was nothing but a vile, saccharine stain on the planet; yet another example of how humanity was wasting its time with childish pursuits, and thus worth conquering for their own ends. And as the oldest example of these preschool programs, it was also the biggest target. Before the merger, nobody bothered to try, save for a visit from The Wicked Witch of the West herself, and her presence was a mere accident of her dropping her broom. Then again, by today’s standards, she is pretty tame compared to what was to come next. 

For now that the worlds had merged, and word of Beast Megatron’s slaughtering of Barney had reached the highest echelons of villainy, Sesame Street was ripe for the taking.

“And it’s all Washington’s fault!” yelled out Deadpool as he slid his way through the fourth wall. “Oh, you think I’m kidding? Well lemme remind you that as it stands right now, a certain orange-worshipping cult (and I do mean that literally, hint-hint) is all too eager to bump off the little red fuzzy and his pals because they don’t teach kids to get down on one knee and kiss the wrinkly old ass of one Donald J. Trump; oh no, they actually make ya think for themselves! Hence, back in the old TV Tropes days, we had ourselves a wee bit of fun where their actions led to these actions. That’s right! Supervillain genocide of the most beloved preschool series of all time!”

Wade, seriously? You’re gonna blame politics for this?

“Jesus, you sound just like the mods!” snarked the Merc With A Mouth. “Of fucking course it’s politics that caused this! You think the bad guys want anyone questioning them? That they’re ok with people actively resisting them because their little brain goes “hey, maybe I don’t like being oppressed!”? Well, here we fucking are! Welcome to the slaughter!”

Good god, Wade, it’s a bit much!

“Now hold on – I never said they’d succeed… but I never said they’d fail either,” he quipped back. “So just keep your patience pants on and maybe you’ll find out what happens, m’kay? Good.” He grabbed himself a bucket of popcorn and started munching on it as loudly and obnoxiously as possible. “I’d help, but… I wasn’t in this chapter originally. But then again, neither were half these guys, as you’ll see very soon…”

It was just another Tuesday when (surprise, surprise), Eric Cartman dropped by the street, having landed there after his “flight” from the Krusty Krab. Immediately, he recognized his surroundings and grew disgusted. Swearing up a storm that would make even a sailor blush, his loudmouth antics drew the attention of Big Bird, who emerged from his nest to see the little boy throwing a tantrum. 

Big Bird was quick to utter a warning to his friend. “Guys! We have a visitor! And I don’t think he means well!”

The other denizens started getting out of their homes to check out the commotion. Most of them had no idea why this boy was out swearing in the middle of the street, but soon, recognition of him fell over their faces. Elmo, one of the street’s younger residents, quickly writhed in horror when he recalled Cartman from an earlier incident. 

“Oh no, this kid!” cried out Elmo. “This is the one kid that Elmo hates! He's red just like Elmo, but is smelly, rude, nasty, says lots of bad words, and he hates Elmo right back!”

“Oh no! Oh no! Oh no!” screamed Grover. “This is bad. This is very, very bad. We can’t have naughty kids like him here on Sesame Street if they aren’t even going to learn from their mistakes!”

“Elmo's daddy already filed a restraining order against him, banning him from Sesame Street!” Elmo added. “But, this kid… he just disobeyed it and showed up anyway!” 

With the screams of terror coming from the little red muppet, Cartman was quick to respond. “Yeah, well, I don't want yew anywhere near me either! I fuckin' hate Sesame Street! And it also seriousleh pissed me off when all those zombie shoppers mobbed the mall to get that "Stop Touching Me Elmo" doll of yours when we were playing fantasy games. Kids should be watching my show instead. It'll teach them all the right stuff!”

“You’re wrong, little boy!” responded Big Bird. “We can’t have kids watching your grown-up cartoon with lots of swearing and nasty jokes! It’ll seriously mess up their education and development!”

Cartman just flipped the bird at Big Bird, not caring about what the child-like ornithoid thought. He tossed him a Stop Touching Me Elmo doll from his world, which immediately began to act inappropriately towards Big Bird. “Have you ever been tickled on the inside?” the bootleg Elmo doll asked as it touched Big Bird suggestively. The bird screamed and threw the doll onto the street.

Sighing from the confines of the fourth wall, Deadpool facepalmed hard as he said, “Oy, little Eric Cartman… in case you hadn’t figured it out, people hate this guy almost as much as Barney. Almost… but only because Barney has no brain (literally and figuratively) when he does what he does. Mister “ReSpEcT mAh AuThOrItAh” here has one, but he only uses it to hate on everyone, and I do mean everyone. And he doesn’t do it because Dalmatians killed his parents, or he was raised in some dirt-poor environment and constantly being put down; he does it because he feels like he can. Normally, the denizens of South Park, CO, wouldn’t give a flying fuck because they’re just as bad as the little shit, but outside? Hoo-hoo, whole different story!”

Cartman was about to make another crass remark when a taxi drove up and almost ran him over (but thankfully, did run over the Stop Touching Me Elmo). As he ducked for a nearby staircase, Makima emerged from the taxi. As she stepped out, a look of disgust ran over her face, her eyes glaring in rage. She gazed upon Elmo directly, sending shivers down his spine.

The Cookie Monster, who was trying to eat a cookie, dropped it out of his mouth in shock.“Oh no! Me see another nasty villain making her way toward us!”

Elmo was quick to recognize this new arrival. He screamed out in terror. “AAAAAAAA! Now, Nasty Lady is here too! Keep Nasty Lady away from Elmo!”

“Well, well, what do we have here?” Makima purred confidently as she made her way onto the asphalt. “Originally I considered obliterating Anpanman’s world, but I figured it’d make a much bigger impression to think more… globally. ”

“What the fuck is an Anpanman? Some kinda Chinpokomon?”, Cartman muttered from wherever he was hiding.

“Who that?” asked Cookie Monster.

“It’s Nasty Lady!” Elmo replied. “Nasty Lady is a mean lady from Japan! She’s red just like Elmo, but Nasty Lady is so scary and dangerous! Even scarier than Huxley and Ronald Grump! Now, Elmo can't decide if Nasty Lady or Nasty Kid is worse!”

“But, Ronald Grump pretty bad himself…” replied Cookie as he nervously binge-munched on his stash of chocolate chip cookies. “How can someone be even worse?”

Makima simply smirked and elicited a minor giggle. “Oh, Elmo, Elmo, Elmo. Your pathetic little show has played too much of a role in teaching kids around the world basic skills and learning to think for themselves. In my ideal world, kids should be raised and treated like puppies and housebroken appropriately. Blind obedience is the only way. I can't afford to have any more of the world's children to be free thinkers.”

The Control Devil lifted her finger, aiming it right at Elmo. The time had come for her to unleash a total genocide upon Sesame Street. And this time, no one was going to stop her. Hell, the world would be sure to thank her when it was wiped off the map, and the fear of Control would be instilled into the hearts of millions.

Cartman actually started to grow excited. “Oh man,” he exclaimed, “This is gonna be good. Ah’ll get meh Cheesy Poofs.”

“Kon.”

Suddenly, Makima felt the slash of claws across her face as a mess of white fur whizzed right by her. Naturally, she just passed the damage onto some poor citizen in Japan, as per her contract, but it wasn’t the annoyance of being hit by a demonic fox that changed her attitude – it was who summoned said fox, as she saw a man wearing a black business suit, brandishing a katana, his hair tied back in a topknot.

“Hayakawa…”

“WOO! Surprise, motherfucker!” exclaimed ol’ Deadpool. “Expecting Sharktooth Blondie ta show up and chainsaw the fuck out of her? Well… actually, yeah, we did do that. At first. But somethin’ kinda came up along the way for Denji, and… lemme introduce you to his replacement, better known to you CSM fans as Aki Hayakawa: Tokyo Public Safety Division 4 Devil Hunter. And hoo boy, does this boy got the call of revenge ringing in his ears. Long story short, a big ol’ disaster involving a certain Gun Devil killed his family, and he wanted payback. End result? Makima strung him along, broke him, turned him into the Gun Fiend, and made Denji put the guy out of his misery as part of her plan to break him and take the doggo inside his chest. Obviously, things have changed.”

Indeed, they had changed – though not within Aki’s eyes. The young Devil Hunter already had his gaze fixed upon Makima, sword in hand. And already, the Control Devil sensed this. “So, it seems the world has been fortunate enough to you, too, dear Aki. No longer do you stand amongst the ranks of the deceased.”

“Not fortunate enough,” he growled, barely maintaining his composure. “You’re still here.”

She let off a slight chuckle as she replied, “The world cannot simply exist without control. You, of all people, should know this.”

“Funny,” he snarled back. “Last I remember, it was doing just fine without you.” She was slightly taken aback. How did he know this? “Yeah, I did a little research. Soon as I found out I wasn’t rotting in some afterlife, I went to make sure you weren’t walking around anymore. Guess they got that wrong – and I intend to fix that…”

Clasping her hands, Makima replied, “Still, you only desire revenge. Good. Then come, Hayakawa… take it. Make it all the more easier to break you a second time. I’m sure whenever Denji is, seeing you die before he has a chance to reunite would ensure he never enjoys the fruits of this new world.”

“Fine,” Aki said as he aimed his sword. “But not here. Kon.” Soon, the visage of the Fox Devil – one of many that the young Devil Hunter had contracted with – appeared once more and grabbed Makima by the neck collar, to her surprise, as it dragged the Control Devil away from Sesame Street. While Aki followed, he shouted towards the Muppets, “Get inside! And don’t let her get near this place ever again! I’ll handle her!” Within seconds, he’d leaped out of sight, in pursuit of his quarry. 

“FUCK! I was just about to declare trucies on the entire ginger race! If only that edgy dude hadn't stopped their Queen Bitch from finally destroying Sesame Street! I never knew someone with a pet giant fox demon could be so unkewl.”

Oh, right. Cartman was still here. And soon, he was joined by another denizen of his hometown, Butters Stotch, who somehow managed to find him all the way out here. “But, I like Sesame Street…” exclaimed the boy.

“SHUT THE FUCK UP, BUTTERS!”

But his words fell on deaf ears as the other residents just decided the best thing they could do was ignore him. No sense in feeding his ego by paying attention. As they left Cartman screaming in anger, Oscar the Grouch decided that enough was enough. He couldn’t stand these villains deciding to bother his home, let alone his friends. As he dove into the trash can and started digging out whatever materials he could find to build a magic barrier to keep the villains out, he started writing one of the most strongly worded letters he’d ever written.

Wow... Just wow. I never thought we'd meet anyone who'd make me look like a nice guy, but here we are. You're a monster. And I don't mean a Monster monster. You're an absolutely horrid person for trying to... just... end everyone and everything on Sesame Street. I wish we could defend ourselves, but "kid-friendly" and all that. Speaking of which, you went after us because you knew that we couldn't fight back. You thought we were an easy target! But in the end, you're just a big ol' scaredy-cat. So, I'm just glad that there are good people out there willing to do the dirty work for us. And I don't mean "dirty" as in the garbage that I love so much. I may be the quintessential Grouch, but in the end, seeing kids smile and seeing all my friends smile is what makes me happy. You don't find ANY joy in making others happy. You just want to suck all the life, joy, and freedom out of everything to turn everyone into your puppets, doing everything you want exactly how you want it. Just in case you get any funny ideas, I've rigged a magic Grouch fence around all of Sesame Street so that if you, and only you (and that pottymouthed kid) ever try to set foot on Sesame Street again, you'll be sent straight to the Grouchland dump. Heh, it's not the best solution ever, but it'll do for now. So, "Miss Makima", I'm gonna tell you this with the utmost sincerity: SCRAM!!! 

For the next several minutes, Oscar spent his time putting up the fence, tuning it to make sure Makima couldn’t come back. Once he got it running, it immediately sucked Cartman into a portal down into the Grouchland Dump, never to set foot in Sesame Street again. Oscar was proud of this little contraption of his. It wasn’t much, but it got the job done. “Heh heh heh…” He then rolled up his letter and sent it through a mail chute to seemingly nowhere, knowing that whatever Grouch magic he used ensured that it’d end up in Makima’s mail slot. Though something told him this was far from over – maybe he should call up those superheroes that live next door and ask them to swing by just in case.

“Hold up, HOLD UP!” interrupted Deadpool. “As you can see, Green Fuzzy Not-A-Homeless-Man-But-Still-A-Trash-Man over here has perfected the art of the strongly worded letter. Buuuuuuuuuut, it’s not just a letter without substance, since he clearly has actions (albeit kid-friendly actions) to back up his words. Yet, you need look no further than to find that a certain other dumbfuck feltfucker skittered away with the wrong message on his many tiny legs…”

Just around the corner, another Muppet was observing events and making notes, emanating the unmistakable smell of creamed corn – or rather, corn cream. Yet, this one looked rougher than the Sesame Street gang, with a deranged look on his face. His shirt and tie did nothing to hide his messy black tuft of hair and dozens of crab-like legs that he scuttled on. Hell, he probably wasn’t even an official Muppet, and sure as hell wasn’t welcome here.

“Wow! Mistew Oscaw fought back against Miss Makima da wight way!” said Warmbo – Elmo’s eldritch alleged “cousin” – in his shrill Elmer Fudd lisp. “Dewe’s no way she can evew wecovew fwom dat stwongwy wowded lettew. And Mistew Oscaw awso did it without viowence! Now DAT’s how you fight off a tywant! Warmbo wiww go teww Mistew Cody and aww da othew Warmbos of Oscaw’s hewoic lettew and how he used da powew of wowds and civiwity to save his fwiends! Pwaise Twawawewo Twawawa fow dis glowious day! YAAAAAYYYYYYYY!!!” And so the little brainless puppet, completely ignorant to the fact that Oscar did what he could within the confines of kid-friendliness, proudly clambered off with the “knowledge” that he had seen his usual “strategy” of inaction succeed firsthand.

“Jesus fucking Christ, something tells me that this guy would be PERFECT for the US Democratic Party,” snarked Deadpool from beyond the fourth wall. “Oh wait, I just gave the game away, because that’s literally what Warmbo was made for! Word of advice: don’t listen to this guy, don’t vote for anyone he endorses, and ESPECIALLY don’t rely on him to save you from fascism. And it gets worse…”

Shortly afterward, Oscar’s suspicions were confirmed correct, for within minutes, a tiny copepod with a big mouth walked into the scene. 

“Oh, COME ON!!! I already had robot versions of all of you felt freaks ready, so that I could make a new Sesame Street that'd teach kids how to worship me and steal the Krabby Patty formula!” 

The cry once again came from Sheldon J. Plankton, no doubt trying to follow up on where his friend Dr. Eggman’s plan had earlier failed. He soon pulled out a loudspeaker.

“Attention, Sesame Street freaks!” he yelled as loud as he could. “Come out here and face my wrath!”

The denizens once again turned, but couldn’t find the little guy. But Elmo saw him, and panic once again set in.

“AAAAAAAAAAA! It’s Bug Guy! He’s another bad guy, and he’s tiny and scary, but not as scary as Nasty Lady or Nasty Boy. But, Bug Guy wants to replace Elmo with a robot Elmo! That's REALLY scary!” 

Plankton just chuckled. “Well, that's just too bad, I guess, Pipe-Cleaner Boy! Wendy over here kinda missed the mark, so I guess I'm gonna have to replace you all with brute force! MWAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!” Plankton pushed a button, and a robotic Elmo came to life. The rotten duplicate then started to spout out programmed nonsense from Plankton’s long list of preprogrammed propaganda. 

“Elmo loves Plankton. Plankton loves you. You will all steal the Krabby Patty secret formula. You will give the formula to Elmo's friend, Plankton. All hail Plankton. All hail Plankton. All hail Plankton.”

Robot Elmo started to fire laser beams from his eyes, causing the real Elmo as he ran away from his robotic duplicate. Thinking quickly, Oscar ran to his magical Grouch fence, then adjusted it to deal with Plankton and the robotic duplicate. The faux Elmo and his microscopic creator got sucked into the Grouchland Dump.

Oscar breathed a sigh of relief at having solved that problem. But, he soon saw that the other residents were starting to get more and more tired. That made three attacks in the last several minutes, and they were all starting to get very scared. Not one of them was used to being targeted by truly nasty individuals like these. He could hear Grover exclaim, “I am very, very, very scared and tired. Why do all the bad guys want to put us in danger all of a sudden?” If only they knew about what happened to old Barnabas…

But their troubles were far from over. Soon enough, Old Bray Wyatt walked out, acting all innocuous. Even so, the Muppets knew there was trouble brewing.

“That’s FOUR!,” exclaimed Count Von Count. “FOUR villains come to terrorize us!”...he exclaimed, surprisingly not letting out his trademark laugh. “This is no laughing matter. Never in my un-life have I found counting to be so joyless!” Indeed, the Count was correct. Wyatt was staring at Elmo, who at this point was about to pass out from all the shock he’d been exposed to.

“Oh no! It's Big Sweater Guy! Big Sweater Guy is even scarier than Nasty Lady and Nasty Boy!”

Bray spoke out in a calm, cheery, but strangely uncanny voice.  “Don't worry, little Elmo! I'm not here to scare you! I'm just here to make sure you can visit the Fun House too, but in a way that fits with your schedule!”

Bray pulled out a ratty-looking Elmo puppet as canned "oohs" and "aahs" played. As if the stiff, robotic Elmo weren’t enough, this phony was even more unsettling than the real thing, looking all ragged and beaten up. The Demonic Elmo then began to speak. “Elmo wants you to remember what Uncle Bray says. When Bray says LET ME IN, you shall. Elmo loves the Fun House. Elmo loves the Fireflies. Elmo loves Uncle Bray, and always obeys when Bray tells you to LET ME IN.”

Elmo ran away, screaming at the sight of his possessed duplicate. It didn’t last long, thankfully, since both Bray and the Demonic Elmo got sucked into the Grouchland Dump when Oscar once again adjusted the fence. His brow furled as he eventually reached a boiling point.

“THAT’S IT! I’m tired of these lousy bad guys coming around and trying to hurt us!” the Grouch jeered. “What sort of sick person gave them this idea?!”

As if right on cue, a newspaper blew in from the Daily Bugle, having gotten lost in the wind. Grover picked it up and held it for the others to read. As they peered at the headline, it soon became obvious why the villains had suddenly gotten an interest in destroying them. 

“BARNEY IS DEAD! Predacon Leader Megatron eviscerates the infamous purple dinosaur.”

The picture then showed Megatron proudly standing atop Barney’s corpse, holding what little remained of his “nephew”. The other Muppets gasped in shock, unaware that in a separate byline, there was an ad taken out by Hades describing how he had hired the doofus as his new minion, and even further down the article, further threats were made against their fellow preschool shows.

Big Bird was the first to react. “Oh my gosh! That robot really did something so awful?!”

“Indeed, Big Bird!” said Count Von Count. “ONE! ONE dead purple dinosaur, and the other villains want to do the same to us!”

Oscar’s brow furled even deeper now. “Oh, that’s really original! I’ve seen it all before; some kid gets this silly idea for us kid-friendly types to get wiped out by these more violent guys because he thinks it’s funny. It’s just like Makima; they’re all bullies!”

"Wait, wait!" interrupted Elmo. "The fox guy just saved us from Nasty Lady, but it says here that his friend also helped get rid of Barney." Elmo pointed to a picture in the article that showed Chainsaw Man tearing into the purple dinosaur. "Elmo's really confused..."

"Well..." mused Oscar, "Ya see, grown-ups recognize us as a cultural institution and want to protect us, but they HATE Barney. You'll understand when you're older. Heck, it was even an entire INDUSTRY back in the '90s!" Oscar then pulled out a "The Jihad to Destroy Barney" role-playing game from his collection of assorted garbage. Someone had clearly grown bored with the campaign after the anti-Barney fad period had ended. "I think it was pretty darn nasty for them to help that evil robot kill Barney, but I can at least see why there's a difference there."

But, Cookie Monster then said, “But, we can’t stop the bad guys from trying to keep attacking! We need more help!”

“Alright, alright,” groaned Oscar. “I guess we’d better call some of those guys next door. I think those Avengers in that giant tower of theirs could pop on by.” 

But before Oscar could walk over to a phone booth, a booming voice called out from the distance. “I’m afraid the Avengers won’t be coming to your aid now, Grouch!”

Suddenly, Elmo screamed again. “Oh no! A fifth bad guy!” At that moment, an intimidating green and purple mech suit landed right on the street and aimed its numerous missile launchers at the Muppets. Its pilot was a bald man, wearing a smug grin on his face and speaking with the voice of Clancy Brown.

“I hope you don’t mind the unexpected invite, but I’m afraid I have business in your neighborhood,” said the pilot.

Big Bird cried out, “It must be that Jeff Bezos guy! He’s come here to tear down our street and replace it with Amazon warehouses!”

“Pfft, figures the evil billionaires are up to that wild scheme,” snarked Oscar. “NOW, WILL YOU BAD GUYS JUST SCRAM ALREADY?!”

But, this bald billionaire wasn't quite Bezos (save that for later) — it was Lex Luthor, aka DC’s number one bad guy, CEO of LexCorp, and Superman's arch-enemy. While Luthor did want to wipe Sesame Street off the map to avoid having young children learn that maybe billionaires and greed are bad and empathy is good, he had an ulterior motive in mind. “Do you really think I care about your pathetic little street and the 'war' being waged around it?" sneered the CEO. "You’re just the bait needed to lure out a bigger prize -- my ultimate prize. The man I hate, the man who keeps me down in perpetuity... and one I know can’t resist the temptation to rescue innocents.” And without mercy, Luthor fired off his weapons, targeting the Muppets directly. Elmo and Cookie Monster hugged themselves together as they braced for the inevitable impact…

Indeed, the missiles went off, but they didn’t hit their target. "Oh! Look up in the sky!" Elmo exclaimed, spotting a flying figure intercepting the missiles and rising into the air.

"It's a bird!" exclaimed Big Bird.

"It a plane!" shouted Cookie Monster.

"It's... SUPER GROVER!" said Grover as he flew through the air, wearing his signature knight helmet, cape, and emblem. But then, a very tall, well-built man passed by him, holding the missiles in one hand, and cradled Super Grover in his arms, landing on his feet and setting Grover down gently as he gave him a friendly head rustle.

"No, it's Superman!" exclaimed Grover excitedly. The familiar theme of John Williams played to signal the arrival of the very person Luthor was hoping for -- the Man of Steel, faster than a speeding bullet, more powerful than a locomotive, able to leap tall buildings in a single bound, the definitive superhero, and the biggest good there is in the DCU. And from the mouth of this savior came the voice of George Newbern, saying, “Luthor…”

”Ah, hey, hey, Superman! I was wondering when you’d show up!” Luthor cackled as he grinned, knowing his plan to lure the Man of Steel himself to the street had succeeded.

Naturally, Supes himself wasn’t impressed in the slightest. “Not even a few days into this whole merger nonsense, and you’ve gone off targeting innocents — and preschool characters on top of it!”

Luthor replied, “Do you think I give a shit? Do you THINK I give a shit, you sanctimonious, patronizing CLOWN?!? You’re too predictable, rescuing people in danger because you feel 'obligated”. It's always all too easy to lure you out to make you prime pickings for ME!”

”Truthfully, Lex, I would have thought that all the changes to the world around us would have taught you that for all your anger against me, you could have made a difference by doing the right thing for once,” said Superman, genuine disappointment in his voice making it clear that he held Luthor’s latest attempt at destroying him to be a waste of his true talents.

Of course, Luthor didn’t want his foe’s pity. “Nice obituary you got there, Superman!” he sneered. Just as quickly as he said that, he fired off a blast of green energy right at his foe — no doubt a discharge of Kryptonite — hoping to strike the Man of Steel with his greatest weakness.

But as much as Luthor accused Superman of being predictable, Superman knew Luthor would use that first thing. Quickly getting Elmo and Cookie Monster out of the way of the blast, he then flew right up to his arch-foe and shouted, “I think we’re gonna have to take this outside!”

”IT DOESN’T MATTER WHERE YOU TAKE IT!” Lex shouted back. “I’LL ALWAYS FIND A WAY TO MAKE YOU BURN! DO YOU HEAR ME?! BURN, DAMN YOU!” More Kryptonite weapons fired off at Superman, intent on killing him with as many of the stash of weapons as Luthor could fit into his suit.

As the Kryptonite struck, so too did the Man of Steel’s fist, sending Luthor flying into the air. Though weakened, Superman tried his best to fly after him, not keen on letting him make another pass at Sesame Street. He quickly built up speed to aim for another punch, as Luthor cackled maniacally while he fired off more weapons, taking their fight further and further away until they both faded out of sight.

But, poor Cookie Monster, drained of energy, fainted on the ground, not even willing to touch his beloved cookies. “Please…please no more bad guys! Me can’t take any more!”

”Five!” Count Von Count exclaimed. “FIVE supervillains in one day! This is growing much vorse by the second! The Barney killing is emboldening even our old network partner’s biggest bad guy!”

Oscar, recounting that Warner Bros. had effectively left them in the dust, groused, “Bad guy, schmad guy! This is getting way too out of hand! If they wanna keep trying to kill us, I’m calling up all those Avengers guys! No way anyone’s smart enough to take them all on!”

He scurried back to the phone booth, keen on trying to make his call… except then he heard the sound of demonic laughter.

“Hello, Muppets. I believe you and I have some business to attend to.”

On the edge of the borders between Sesame Street and the main streets of New York City, the denizens of the preschool series were now witnessing a giant, demonic-looking flame gazing upon them, and armies of demons abounded. Oscar just growled as he said, “SERIOUSLY?! WHAT’S WITH ALL THE BAD GUYS TODAY?!”

“You really wish to know?” Gwi-Ma replied as his armies of the damned were growling, gnashing their teeth at the potential feast of souls. “Because you are a failure in this world. No matter how much joy you bring, there will always be those who look to see you destroyed. For everything you are, evil shall consume. This time, it shall be me.”

Cookie Monster growled back at him, “You leave Sesame Street alone! Me know bad guys never win, because bad guys always make good guys stand up for what’s right!”

“Not this time,” the Demon King chuckled. “I just happened to notice that this happy little street hasn’t yet borne witness to the Honmoon – a perfect opportunity for me. Armies of my demons will unleash themselves upon the world, and bring forth a new age… an age of my own kind. The people will be too consumed by shame over their desires – their hatred of you, the burning rage they get whenever they hear your name – having become reality. All those years of wanting you dead, and it shall be so very soon.”

Elmo, still quaking in his figurative boots, tried to plead, “Please! Don’t hurt Elmo’s friends, Mister Fire Voice! Elmo knows they’re good people! They never did anything to you!”

“Correct,” Gwi-Ma coldly replied. “They did not. But you, however, have a greater crime to answer for. With each day you exist, your elders demean your very name; no matter how many children love you, it does not change the fact that the adults would rather see you burnt alive than hear one more screech out of your voice.” 

Poor little Elmo began to cry as Big Bird quickly ran up to comfort him. “Hey, you leave him alone, you big bully! All you’re doing is proving Oscar’s point: bad guys like you only want a target that can’t fight back!”

“Yes… and it will make your demise a lot easier.” The Demon King then bellowed to his minions, “March forth, demons! Feast upon their shame!” And so the demons began charging up towards Sesame Street, their teeth bared as they were ready to chow down upon the poor, defenseless Muppets. Even Oscar feared his grouch fence wouldn’t be enough to halt the advance of demonic hordes approaching them. Crafty as it may have been, it was no Honmoon. It genuinely seemed like this was it, and there were no demon hunters of any kind in sight…

Except then, a missile fired off and hit the pavement!

“You’ll have to forgive me, your eminence, but I do believe there’s a much better way to handle your hunger problem!” A voice called out from the sky as Elmo and the others saw a red suit of armor with giant wings flying down towards Gwi-Ma, flanked by two identical suits. The stranger quickly landed in front of the Demon King, then removed his helmet to reveal a familiar face, as he said, “If you wanted souls to consume, you could have picked a better location.”

“Xanatos…”

Deadpool’s voice popped up again over the sound of hard clapping. “David! Fucking! Xanatos! Gargoyles, baby! Now, fun fact – this fucker never got an SDCP, but is he a TV Tropes fav! Man’s got a goddamn trope named after him, so when yours truly cracked a joke mentioning his ruggedly-bearded face in a much later chapter (not gonna say how or why, but you’ll know it when you see it), he pretty much got a nice little bump up along with yours truly and everyone’s favorite K-Pop group! Of course, he might have gotten an SDCP if not for something, hint-hint…”

“Would you care to explain why you choose to stand in my way?” growled Gwi-Ma. “Or have you forgotten about certain other arrangements?”

Standing perfectly calm, unfazed at being threatened by the giant, flaming demon, the CEO of Xanatos Enterprises replied, “Not at all. As a matter of fact, I’m here to ensure those obligations are fulfilled.” 

“If opposing me constitutes a fulfillment, then you truly are a fool,” replied the Demon King. “Now stand aside!”

Yet Xanatos said, “And bring the wrath of an entire universe upon you? It wouldn’t be beneficial for either of us if you suddenly found HUNTR/X and virtually every hero on the planet right at your doorstep.” Suddenly, Gwi-Ma fell silent, confused by what the man standing in his way was saying. “Let me put it to you this way. You want the Honmoon gone, correct? To usher in an era of demon dominance? And most importantly, eliminate the women who have been singlehandedly ensuring that never happens for the last five years?”

“I fail to see your point,” said Gwi-Ma.

Clearing his throat, the billionaire replied, “My point is that Sesame Street is the worst target to go after to accomplish that. Is it easy? Without question. But it’s also one of the most beloved cornerstones of this new world – a new world that also happens to have heroes of significant power, nearly all of which eclipses that of even your own. And if you destroy this place, HUNTR/X can rally them all to take revenge. And I normally consider such endeavors to be a sucker’s game, but it tends to be a pretty powerful motivator…”

“Ummm… what’s the robot man doing with the evil demon?” Elmo asked, unable to hear the conversation from such a great distance, as he kept hiding behind Big Bird.

Even Big Bird was having a hard time telling. “Hmmmm. I wish I knew! But it sounds like he’s talking to him!”

“Hpmh!” Oscar said as he furled his eyebrows. “I betcha he’s in cahoots with that hothead! I don’t trust him one bit!”

Likewise, unable to hear the chatter of the Muppets, Xanatos then said to Gwi-Ma, “Besides, I needn’t remind you about how you’re working tirelessly to bring the Saja Boys back into the public eye. So far, you’ve done admirably, but do you really think all that effort will bear fruit if you go through with this? Already, I can tell you that no one is going to support the minions of the being who wiped out Sesame Street, good music or no.”

“Mmmmmm…” It was obvious that Gwi-Ma didn’t want to hear this, necessarily, but Xanatos’ arguments were sound. The last thing he needed was his enemies getting forces beyond his own power, nor did he want the Saja Boys’ return to the spotlight to be washed out because of his own choices. So he said, “Demons… stand down.”

One such demon, a water demon with tears streaming down his face, began to cry as he asked, “Wh – what?” 

“I said, stand down,” the Demon King growled. “For now…” To the disappointment of his men and to the relief of the Muppets, Gwi-Ma declared, “Sesame Street will remain this day. But know that your shame is forever in your hearts. When the time comes… when the Honmoon is but a memory, and its protectors dead… There will be no one left to stop us from consuming your souls.” And he disappeared into the underworld, giving a glare to Xanatos in the process. 

As for the man himself, he brushed off his shoulder armor, then said, “Well, I think that worked out splendidly.” Xanatos then walked up to the Muppets and said, “Sorry for the delay, but you do have to understand this isn’t exactly an easy suit to put on.” His charming smile did seem to ease the frightened puppets a little bit – all except for Oscar, who continued to glare as the businessman then continued by saying, “Rest assured, Mister Gwi-Ma will no longer be troubling your little corner of New York.”

“Ah, a good show and all that!” said Count Von Count. “You have done us a great service, Mister…”

The billionaire replied, “David Xanatos, CEO of Xanatos Enterprises. I actually live up there, in that tower.” He pointed towards the New York skyline, where a massive skyscraper stood amongst the many structures dotting the merged reality. Otherwise known as the Eyrie Building, the sprawling, modern architecture was contrasted by an old Scottish castle atop the structure. He then turned back to the Muppets and said, “I just happened to be getting out of a convention panel when I heard the commotion on Sesame Street. Fortunately, this wasn’t my first brush with the supernatural – and I do have a means of getting around quickly when needed.”

“Oh, thank you, Mister Xanatos!” Elmo said as he did a little happy dance. “You saved Elmo’s friends from the bad demon! How can we ever thank you?”

He then handed a check to Count Von Count and said, “Consider this a start. Make sure you spend it well, my friends. After that, who knows? I’m convinced that this could be the start of a wonderful new partnership. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have to get back. Until next time we meet.” Xanatos then put his helmet back on, and with his two robotic duplicates – the Steel Clan – flew off towards the skyline, as multiple witnesses of the human variety had seen just what he did and were quickly posting it to social media.

“Wow, what a nice man!” Big Bird said. “And he did all that without even being asked!”

Yet Oscar remained entirely unconvinced, and rightfully so, since Xanatos wasn’t who he claimed to be. “Oh, there’s a catch to this, alright! Just you wait! I bet he’s gonna use that money against us!”

“But at least we have the money to help keep the lights on!” Count Von Count countered. “One! One… no, 30 million dollars! Ah-ah-ah! It looks like we vill be taken care of for a while, especially since those government types are aiming to cut our funding!”

Oscar could see the younger Muppets drooping their heads, noting how there’d been multiple efforts in DC for years to get rid of the street, especially as less tolerant administrations took over. “Maybe… but I still don’t trust this Xanatos guy one bit! And after that last attack, I’m not taking any more chances! I’m definitely calling The Avengers before someone else gets the bright idea to try hurting us!”

But as he pulled out the phone again and the dial tone started ringing, giant, triangle-shaped shadows began to loom overhead, as a less inviting John Williams theme began to play…

“Oh no... why does Elmo hear scary music?”

A massive starship descended over Sesame Street. The Muppets looked up as they saw an Imperial Class Star Destroyer – several of them in fact – looming overhead. “The Imperial March” played in the background as several Lambda-class shuttles emerged and began their descents. As they prepared for landing, a hologram of Darth Vader appeared on the street. The sinister Sith Lord’s masked visage loomed large as the denizens worried about what fate he had in store for them.

The hologram of Vader then spoke. “Attention, all denizens of…” He pauses for a moment. The street’s denizens can hear him trying to hold in a laugh. “Sesame Street, New York, New York, United States of America, Planet Terra. On behalf of Emperor Sheev Palpatine, you are now under military occupation of the Galactic Empire.”

As the shuttles began to make their approach, Ernie woke up in his apartment. He, along with his roommate Bert, was among the few adults who actually lived on the Street (along with Oscar and Count), so he held a personal responsibility to watch over the younger residents. Even if he was a little on the immature side, what with him being a hapless prankster and all. 

“Bert! Bert! You need to see this, Bert!” he screamed as he climbed over to Bert’s bed and tried to wake him up. The banana-colored Muppet stirred from his rest, not in the mood to be awoken from what he thought was one of Ernie’s usual games.

“What is it this time, Ernie?” He got up from his bed and then looked out the window. “OH MY—”

The shuttles landed, each of them carrying a squadron of Stormtroopers. The troopers were accompanied by officers, holding… scripts? The Muppets looked confused as Vader continued to address them from the comfort of his ship.

“From this point forward, you will educate the children of Planet Terra only using curricula approved by the Imperial Department of Education, which places focus on obedience, personal responsibility, discipline, and loyalty to the Emperor. You will be given scripts for each episode of your program that you must follow exactly.”

Big Bird was the first to look over the script, and something seemed terribly off about it. Even though he was still young, he recognized the hand – or rather code – of artificial intelligence in making this. He said, “This script is garbage! Did a robot write this or something? Kids are going to hate it!” He quickly tossed the “script” at Oscar’s trash can, knowing that only he would appreciate that slop. In response, two stormtroopers grabbed Big Bird and started to drag him towards the shuttle, uttering some nonsense Imperial Code that the poor guy was accused of violating. 

Elmo looked on in horror as Big Bird was dragged off, screaming for help. “What's happening?! No! No! The bad people are here to take away all of Elmo's friends!”

“All right! More AI slop!” said Oscar as he saw more scripts piling up in front of his trash can. He picked up one and looked at it, satisfied that it’d fit right in with his collection of assorted garbage – as he stated in his signature song, he LOVED trash. “Anyway…” While no one was looking, he snuck over to the apparatus controlling his Grouch Fence, waiting for the opportunity to strike.

Vader’s hologram continued to speak. “All those who do not comply will be taken prisoner by the Galactic Empire.”

Ernie looked over his own script and was horrified by what he saw. "‘Did you know that rent increases are necessary so that the Empire can keep supplying the fun stuff that you love, and are the fault of non-humans, who are bad people?!?’ What is this? It's mean and negative and teaches nonsense! I can't do this, Bert!”

As Vader warned, Ernie was captured and taken away by Stormtroopers. He got dragged away, screaming out for his friend. “BERT! HELP!”

Bert looked on in horror at seeing his friend being imprisoned. “ERNIEEEEEEEEE!!!” He tried rushing after him, but a pair of stormtroopers grabbed him by the arms and declared him an accessory. All this did was cause Bert’s brow to furrow as he looked towards the Fourth Wall…

“Parents, you may want to cover your kids' eyes for this one… Bite me!” He let out a mighty spit, splattering a big loogie on a stormtrooper’s helmet. All this did was cause the bumbling soldiers to grab a tighter hold of him, dragging him out of the apartment as they passed by Elmo.

“Bert! Ernie! Elmo has faith in you!” cried out Elmo as he tried to offer his support for his friends. Meanwhile, Vader continued to speak, unaware of the events transpiring on the ground.

“This educational overhaul will ensure the proper upbringing of all children on the planet Terra to become productive and obedient members of the Galactic Empire. Do not fail me.”

Meanwhile, out of notice, Oscar was making that last adjustment to his Grouch Fence. “Just a little tweak here, and... THERE!”

Before the Stormtroopers could do anything, they got sucked into a void surrounding Sesame Street, releasing all the Muppets. The Imperials ended up in the Grouchland garbage dump, where they saw a few familiar faces. Eric Cartman, Plankton and his Elmo Robot, and Bray Wyatt and his Demonic Elmo, just sitting there in the garbage, without a care in the world.

“First time?” asked the crass Coloradan. The other Stormtroopers just groaned as Plankton got up and started trying to find his way back home.

Back on Sesame Street, the Star Destroyers began to leave. All the Muppets cheered for joy, and they rewarded Oscar by throwing him all of their AI-generated scripts to add to his trash collection. The Grouch was the happiest he'd ever been – and he didn’t have to call those other big heroes! Still, peace had finally found its way to Sesame Street, and not a moment too soon. Guess those villains learned the hard way that the so-called “weaklings” of the multiverse weren’t so weak after all. 

Meanwhile, back on the Star Destroyer, the ship left orbit to prepare for a hyperspace jump to Coruscant. In his frustration, Vader Force-choked an Imperial Officer, dropping him to the ground and leaving his coworkers cowering, so that they might be next. He stared out the window, his anger fuming beyond comparison.

“What a pointless mission. Why do you do this, my master…?”

Ol’ Deadpool chimed in, “Trust me, you wouldn’t be happy if ya knew. And it all has to do with Mommy Makima… speaking of which, where exactly did edgelord topknot drag her off to?”

He quickly answered his own question, as now, both Control Devil and Devil Hunter were clashing in the middle of an alley, far away from Sesame Street and the chaos ensuing there. Yet his goal wasn’t just to see Makima removed from the area but entirely from this world.

He remembered it vividly. How he had joined Tokyo’s Public Safety Division Number Four for the sole purpose of hunting down the Gun Devil – the same Devil that had been responsible for the deaths of his family. How he first brushed off the perverted kid with the Chainsaw Devil in his chest, and his equally insane buddy, the Blood Fiend, as nothing but nuisances who couldn’t take their jobs seriously. How he’d sacrificed years off his life, making contracts with multiple Devils, just to see his mission through. How he… how he actually started to care for those two morons.

And how Makima took that all away from him.

She never intended to destroy that beast. No, what she wanted was Chainsaw Man – the true Chainsaw Man, currently inside of Denji – and she felt the only way to accomplish that was to build him up, knock him down in the cruelest way possible, and claim what she believed was hers. And as part of that plan, she took advantage of Aki’s growing cares for Denji and Power, and transformed him into the Gun Fiend, knowing Denji would have no choice but to kill him. And he remembered every single moment.

Now his mind was lucid again. His body seemingly healed from all those years that he took off his lifespan, just to see his mission through. But the Gun Devil was no longer his concern…

As he held his katana upwards to block one of Makima’s blows, he growled at his former employer, “I gotta say, I’m not impressed. You’re back for five minutes and your first idea is to blow up a children’s show?”

“The world was never meant to be ruled by free-thinkers, Hayakawa-san,” Makima politely (though falsely) replied as she brushed off one of his attacks, passing the damage onto another random Japanese citizen. “But it cannot start until the biggest prize of them all has been claimed.”

He snickered as he laid on more cuts, knowing futilely that they wouldn’t do shit against her contract. But he needed to do something, anything, just to hold her back, if even for a moment. “You mean Denji? Still can’t let the idea go about having Pochita in his chest!” A flash in his eye occurred – the Future Devil – warning him that if he took a step to the right, that’d be the end of his foot.

No wrong moves.

He quickly dodged a BANG by moving to the left instead, as a nearby wall wound up being hit.

“And you can’t seem to let the idea of avenging your family go anymore than before,” she sniped back as she managed to land a solid punch on his face, causing him to bleed from his mouth and knock him to the ground. “What did you hope to accomplish? You know you can’t kill me. If you've done your homework, then you’re well aware that my contract guarantees such, even if that pesky mutt got lucky.”

Aki staggered up and brushed his mouth, his eyes glaring firmly at Makima’s yellow gaze. “New world, new rules, right? Something’s bound to change. If not, I’m sure there’s one loophole I can find…” 

Except at that moment, all the loopholes he could think of may not work. Of all the Devils he’d been under contract with, the only one who would have the best chance of destroying Makima would be Curse – but he’d witnessed firsthand with another Devil, Katana Man (or Samurai Sword, as he was known), that using the monstrosity against someone who couldn’t die would just be a waste. Fox could stun her, but not harm her, as he’d just seen. Future was good for keeping himself alive, but certainly not harming his foe (to say nothing of the fact that the last time such a Devil had given him a vision, he walked right into Makima’s control). And Angel, well… he’d used the weapons before, on ghosts. But wasting his lifespan for them now…

Except then, both of them were momentarily distracted by the sound of Vader’s Star Destroyer, the Devastator, departing Sesame Street. And Aki didn’t know it then, but Makima was smirking. “All according to plan…” she muttered to herself. 

No wrong moves.

At that moment, Aki decided now was the time to take the risk. He remembered what he’d heard about Denji and how he exploited a loophole with his own hormonal-driven infatuation with Makima to beat her in a way that prevented her contract from kicking in. So he tried as hard as humanly possible not to declare what he was doing as an attack, even from within the confines of his mind. 

Denji… however the hell you did it, I hope this works. 

So he charged in, his footsteps running as quietly as he could muster… but then he felt a strong pull grasp his torso, as if he were a mere toy in the palm of a giant’s hand. And unfortunately for him, he knew that power all too well, for at that moment, Makima was making a similar gesture in her own hand, her back turned towards her attempted assailant. 

“I admire your persistence,” she coldly said as she dared not to gaze upon him. “I’ll grant you, it’s rather amusing. Unfortunately, your attempts to destroy me are simply… oh, how do I put this…? Pathetic.” She began to grasp her hand tightly as Aki felt his body being crushed like a soda can. “Did you think you could bury your anger towards me? Hide it in some twisted attempt to end my life as Denji did? You couldn’t be further from the truth. I know anger. It’s the very anger that sustains my ability to dominate this world, as is my right. The world yearns for control, angry at the constant chaos, seeking revenge against all those who had wronged them – not unlike yourself.”

Aki could feel his ribcage beginning to crack, his organs feeling like they were about to pop, as Makima continued to gloat. “In mere moments, the chaos here will demand a new change in leadership. I intend to be that change. But since you’ve troubled yourself to seek my end, I can put that to proper use.” Only now did she turn towards her victim, his life slowly draining as she gripped tighter. “In the end, you only succeeded in placing that pathetic brat in the perfect position to be broken once more. Imagine how he’ll react to this new world when he learns that dear Aki Hayakawa was alive for only mere moments before I brought about his end once more. A pity we can’t repeat history with the Gun Fiend, but I’ve learned it’s never wise to use the same trick twice.”

“Go… go to hell…” Aki defiantly said in what he believed to be his last moments. Internally, he was already dreading what Makima was planning to do with his corpse afterward, but he wasn’t going to give her the satisfaction of having bested him twice. If there was one last thing he could do, it was to spit in her face, albeit figuratively, and make it clear he wasn’t bending to her.

She remained deathly silent, as if she had plans to counter with some thought-out comeback that she already was from hell. But before she could open her mouth, she felt something sharp cut her arm… and it didn’t heal!

“What the – “ All she could see was this short, black blur as blood – actual blood! – came out of the wound. And when said black blur landed, it was some diminutive figure wearing some black cloak, though he was moving too fast to get a full glimpse. She clutched her arm as she growled in both anger and disbelief. “How…? How did you – ?”

She didn’t have much time to react, as this figure charged at her again, their weapon close in hand. Again, it was too fast to tell what it was, but she could see a metal pole with what appeared to be… key teeth? 

No, no time to try and sort out the weapon or the assailant. Not when it can hurt her. “BANG.”

She fired with such precision, her grip released Aki. And in the midst of her fight or flight response, she’d forgotten all about him. Her concentration was now focused solely on this would-be assassin, who dodged with such nimbleness that she might as well have been shooting at a gnat. It was obvious this warrior was no ordinary force, as she fired again and missed. “BANG.” Again, it proved futile. They threw their weapon at her, forcing her to get behind a nearby dumpster to halt its advance lest it strike her again. Within seconds, she was kicking the dumpster towards them to try and throw them off guard… but they just sliced it clean in half!

No… not now! Not when I’m so close! All Makima could do was try and fend this person off – and Vader’s Star Destroyer was just beginning to break the atmosphere for its return to Coruscant! She’d miss her opportunity! But then, time came to a standstill. Soon, that same voice that called to her earlier spoke once again.

Child. You are Control. You needn’t wait to bring the Oligarch Devil to you. You have the power, as per your birthright.

And with this, she felt a tingling sensation in her hands. Within seconds, she spotted a glob of some dark, shadowy substance on the ground, growing by the second. As it grew, eldritch-looking hands emerged from the puddle, each with a glowing, yellow eye embedded in its palm. The hands then appeared to grab onto reality, tearing a portal  big enough to give her enough room to pass through. Every fiber of her being felt that this new power – somehow – was a gift. But from whom? 

Nevermind that for the moment. Her true destiny awaited. Smirking, she quickly wandered into the portal, avoiding meeting a grisly fate as Makima closed it behind her just as fast as she made it. Yet said figure didn’t seem the least bit disappointed that their quarry got away. Instead, they rushed over to Aki, who was barely clinging to consciousness as his eyes began to close. Every bone in his body felt cracked or broken somehow, his organs all tightly squeezed… and his thoughts rushing to the horror that he nearly gave Makima everything she wanted.

“Don’t worry, pal! I’m takin’ ya somewhere you can get help! I know just the person to take care of ya!” That voice… it sounded so familiar… but all he could make out was two large circles protruding from the hood of his rescuer before everything went black. 

Meanwhile, the portal opened into the throne room of the Imperial Palace on Coruscant. Makima stepped out and found Emperor Sheev Palpatine, sitting upon his throne, grinning with glee, ignorant of Makima’s wound. “Welcome, Control Devil,” spoke the Sith. “I have been expecting you.”

Makima smirked back at him in response. “As have I, Oligarch Devil. As have I.”

Palpatine let out an evil laugh. “Word had spread quickly of what you did to those childish fools on Sesame Street. And to think, none had such courage to do what needed to be done, and wipe them out.”

“It was a necessity,” spoke Makima. “Giving children the means to think for themselves is lighting a match to spark forth rebellion. There is no need to provide them with such when housebreaking them will do.”

“I am glad we are in agreement.” Palpatine gestured towards the Control Devil. “Fortunately, your actions have proven of great use towards my Empire. That is why I require a new apprentice. I’m afraid my prior one will no longer be of any use to me.”

Makima smirked again. She knew Palpatine referred to Vader, doubtlessly because he had planned for the magic Grouch fence to dispose of him the moment he set foot on Sesame Street. But Makima knew that Palpatine’s plans had failed; he was always an overconfident fool. Still, better to keep that secret close to the chest for now.

“You refer to Darth Vader. A pity, but I suppose he was always held back by those troubling emotions of his. He never could get over losing his precious wife.”

Palpatine let out another cackle, knowing full well what Makima meant. “I can tell you, and I will make an excellent team. Together, we will rule the galaxy as Master and Apprentice, as it was always meant to be. Today, the Empire marks its first step towards TOTAL DOMINATION! There will be NO MORE REBELLION!”

As Makima approached Palpatine’s throne, she said, “I couldn’t agree more. Today, the galaxy does fall under total control.” She let off another smirk as she got closer to the Sith. “But, for that to occur, I believe it’s best if we implement a few new changes…”

A look of befuddlement struck the Emperor as he witnessed Makima summoning every single contracted Devil that she ever had at her disposal.

Meanwhile, back on the Star Destroyer, a frustrated Lord Vader was flying back to Coruscant, unaware of what was transpiring in his master’s throne room. His thoughts still dwelled on the last mission – the pointlessness of it all! So great was his fury, other officers scurried into hiding just to make sure they weren’t caught in his rampage.  

“It's clear to me why the Emperor sent me on that pointless occupation mission. He knew that the trash-dweller's device would send me to parts unknown while he could replace me with a new, more powerful, and more faithful apprentice from these new worlds.”

Nearby, Director Krennic himself was standing silently, his nerves somewhat frayed – and Vader could sense this. “Is there something you wish to share, Director?” Uh-oh. Now Krennic was on the spot. Vader’s reputation for dropping officers whenever they pissed him off was legendary in the fleet, and Krennic had been on the receiving end of that wrath once before – back during the construction of the first Death Star, in fact.

Orson Krennic had been a loyal officer of the Republic, tasked with taking the hollow shell of a superweapon the Separatist Alliance was caught building during the Second Battle of Geonosis, and finishing it to wipe out the traitors. This project, Stardust, would be his life’s work and legacy. All it required were expert engineers to help the project along, with one such being an old friend who owed him: Galen Erso.

But Erso, ever the stubborn one, knew precisely what Krennic – and by extension, Palpatine – were really planning to do with it. And once the Republic fell and the Galactic Empire took its place, those notions were all but confirmed. So, he fled. The project fell behind schedule, and Krennic was forced to track him down, kill Erso’s wife, and drag Galen into Imperial custody to finish the Death Star. 

Alas, for him, delays continued to abound. Erso secretly sabotaged the project from within, even installing a fatal flaw within the reactor by placing a small exhaust port leading directly to the core, which would allow a well-targeted photon torpedo to take it out. Rebel spies passed on information to try and warn the Rebellion, even as the Imperials took drastic measures to bury any and all information about their superweapon. And when the thing was finally finished, Governor Tarkin stole command of the Death Star from Krennic – and that was all before he was killed on Scarif by his own machine!

The merger had brought him back into the fold, thankfully, since he was one of the few competent (if overly ambitious) officers Palpatine commanded. Although his fortunes seemed to be turning, as he saw Vader’s eyes staring into his soul, demanding answers about what transpired. So, he cleared his throat…

“Ahem. Lord Vader… frankly, I found this mission to be an equal waste of time.” The Dark Lord of the Sith listened carefully to see if Krennic was telling the truth or just trying to save his own neck. “The Emperor wanted you gone; that much is clear. He even bragged as such to us. You should have seen Governor Tarkin’s dismay when the order was given to remove you.”

Vader continued to look down at Krennic, asking, “Then why choose to accompany me?”

“My orders were simple,” Krennic replied. “Once you were killed, I was to report your demise immediately. Do you think this was an assignment I wanted? The Death Star is… well, gone. Destroyed by the Rebels! I’m only so lucky to be alive after Scarif – which I still don’t know how I escaped from! But it’s clear that Palpatine has no respect for what I’ve accomplished after building him what he asked! It’s as if my years of loyal service meant nothing to him! No, Lord Vader, this is a punishment for both of us. All in favor of someone who’s caught his eye.”

This piqued Vader’s curiosity. “To whom do you refer?”

“Some redheaded woman he professed to be a “Devil”,” scoffed the Director in a rather dismissive manner. “And to be honest, I don’t care if she was some ancient Sith Legend; all I know is that he desired her and wanted you gone to ensure that. And once I returned with that report, he probably would have seen to my demise right after… of course, this does not beguile the fact you foresaw such a trick.”

Vader simply dismissed such information, along with Krennic’s obvious groveling. “The Emperor always assumes that I am blinded by ignorance. That couldn't be further from the truth. Ready my shuttle for landing.”

The Star Destroyer returned to Coruscant and entered friendly space. Within minutes, Vader's Imperial Shuttle exited the massive ship and flew through the traffic surrounding the numerous skyscrapers dotting the planet. He landed in front of the Imperial Palace, where a personal escort was in place awaiting him. Accompanied by Krennic, Vader entered the structure and made his way up the turbolift to the throne room, where he saw his master, the Emperor... battered and bruised and with a chain through his forehead. The chain extended from the waist of a red-haired woman in a business suit, who looked unscathed in comparison but whose clothes were clearly muddied up in the heat of battle, covered in a copious amount of blood. The woman pointed a finger at Palpatine's head.

His surprise got the better of him. “The Control Devil?!” he exclaimed. 

BANG.  

And within seconds, Palpatine’s head exploded. Gone now was the Oligarch Devil – the embodiment of the Sith, and of humanity’s fear of power-hungry plutocrats. What remained slumped over the throne, ending the nearly 20-year reign of the man who brought down the Republic. Soon, Makima pushed Palpatine’s corpse out of the way, taking the seat as part of her new claim to this Empire. She smirked at Vader, staring into his helmet.

“Oh my…” exclaimed Krennic, equally shocked by what he saw.

“Do we have a contract, Lord Vader?”

Vader stood there, confused for a few seconds. She actually did what he could not…she killed Palpatine. And so effortlessly! He could hardly believe it. No one, not Maul, not Yoda, not even Kenobi at his peak, could have so easily bested the most powerful man in the galaxy. But then again, this was not the same galaxy he was used to. In this new reality, a more powerful foe had put the Emperor in his place – and in doing so, freed him from his control. True, it was not by his hand that Palpatine fell, but it was still done at long last. For the first time in a long time, Vader felt…gratitude. And with that feeling, he then knelt in front of Makima – and so too did Krennic, not wanting to suffer the same fate as the late Palpatine. 

“What is thy bidding, my new master?”

Makima let out a small laugh, amused by Vader’s respect. “Oh, no need for all that verbiage. All I need are simpler responses from my dogs.”

Vader almost didn’t know how to respond. But, he soon remembered she only preferred one way: “...Woof.”

“Good boy!” she exclaimed with a small bit of giddiness in her voice. She now had cinema’s greatest villain by her side as her loyal follower.

Standing up in front of her new right hand, she thought to herself about her true goal. Her mind was fixated on one thing: Chainsaw Man... I'm coming for you, and this time you don't stand a damn chance.  

And thus, the new Galactic Empress was crowned.  

All hail Empress Makima! 

“Psst. I know you’re all excited about your new galactic waifu overlord, but there’s still more,” chimed in Deadpool. “Remember when I mentioned politics and Trump and shit at the start of the chapter? Yeah, this is why I told you to bookmark that…”

Hundreds of miles away, in Washington, DC, the Sesame Sieges had caused a stir at the offices of the Federal Communications Commission. Given that the reigning Trump regime hated Sesame Street, it made sense that they’d take an interest in the villains’ attempts to raze the Street to the ground – and the FCC, with its oversight on popular media, was the first department to react. And reports on the Sieges found their way to the desk of one Chairman Brendan Carr, infamous for imposing Trump’s agenda on broadcast networks… but there were two things that stood out about him.

First of all, Carr was in a wheelchair, as he was his accident-prone South Park incarnation and had just endured the events of “Conflict of Interest”. In that episode, he repeatedly fell for kooky (and vulgar) traps set by Trump and meant for Satan (it’s complicated); that said, he had healed much of his injuries by this time, and had mostly recovered his “freedom of speech”. Secondly, he wasn’t in his usual business suit, but wearing the reviled white robes of the Ku Klux Klan, albeit with a gold lapel pin of Trump’s profile on top. He even had the pointy hood with eyeholes, and was only really recognizable by the glasses that he wore on top of it.

“Lo, such a shame that the repeated attempts to eradicate the woke far-left Muppet terrorists hath failed,” said Carr, trying his best to sound like an overbearing religious preacher. “Surely the Lord Trump shalt succeed in that regard, but we must first set up our plan for success…”

Chapter Text

The sun was setting on yet another successful Villain Con – or so it would be, had the denizens not entered into a state of shock. All over the con, word was quickly spreading of what Makima had tried to do to Sesame Street. Social media feeds were blowing up with witnesses who saw her almost eviscerate Elmo had it not been for Aki’s intervention, and those same folks saw Plankton’s, Bray Wyatt’s, Lex Luthor’s, Gwi-Ma’s, and Vader’s own attempts being thwarted. Con-goers everywhere were seeing this play out, and most of them were horrified.

The keyword is most of them.

A couple of the more heartless villains and killers out there were laughing their butts off, and some still were even more impressed that Makima had tried to finally get rid of that preschool slop. Even on social media, the usual trolls and bots chimed in with repeated comments praising Makima for having the guts to commit such a ruthless genocide. But for the more rational folks, they were horrified at what they saw. Sure, Sesame Street was occupied by characters who were of a more childish nature (or at least reasonably childish compared to some of the other towns and cities occupied by preschool characters), but this was just too far! Panels got interrupted, signings were stopped, and all the while, “The Sesame Sieges” became the hot topic of discussion. 

Still, this event couldn’t be spoiled, and as the man behind it, Gru knew Villain Con had to go on. He quickly took to the stage, no doubt thinking about how his own kids were reacting to the news, and grabbed a microphone. 

“May I have your attention, please?” the ex-villain called out. The con goers were still in a chatter, but he tried again. “Everyone, settle down! Settle down!” The crowds were finally silenced.

Gru cleared his throat. “Thank you. Now, I know thees news has just gotten to all of you, and yes – I thenk we can all agree that what Lettle Miss Snobby Pants tried to do to those Muppets was waaaaay out of line!”

Out towards one of the booths, one of the villains called out and said, “NO, WAY, MAYN! SHE SHOULDA POPPA-DE-POPPED DOSE BITCHES A LONG-ASS TIME AGO AND SACWIFICED ’EM TO DA GWEAT WEVIAFON!”

“Okay, most of us agree that was way out of line,” said Gru, trying to defuse the situation. “But regardless, we may be veellains, but we are not monsters. We know you came to see us, and the show must go on! So, if anybody vants to come up and seenk to give these vory fine people the show of a lifetime, come on up and do so!”

Nearby, a large blue robot named Soundwave transformed into a cassette deck and started playing a rendition of “Everybody Wants to Rule the World” by Tears for Fears. He selected the karaoke version from within his tapes, no doubt trying to bop along as best he could, since he too had an appreciation for this art form. Nearby, his master, the original Megatron, simply scowled in disgust, his mind dwelling on Makima’s recent actions; not because he disapproved of it, but because he saw killing weaklings as a waste of time, unlike that purple pretender who dared to lay claim to his name. 

As some of the villains got up on stage, Gru called out, “Seenk alonk if you know the vords!”

“Oh, did I forget to mention?” chimed in the voice of Deadpool. “This was the big shindig back in the day – all baddies from all walks of life chimin’ in and singin’ along to the ending of Despicable Me 4. Man, that was some fun shit! Of course, the way it originally ended was Empress Waifu the I, Wheezer, Uncle Barney, and Sephy Daddy pretty much just shitting on the whole thing. You know, kinda like what eventually ended up happening to the SDCP after Barneygate by you know who. Anyway… might as well get comfortable, 'cause this gag’s gettin’ a hell of a reuse. Well, aside from Hitler Junior asking who the Minions served during WWII, but seein’ as the little shit’s been banned for life alongside yours truly, I’ll live with it.”

First up on stage was a skinny man with a big nose, dressed in a purple outfit. Out of his screechy mouth, Waluigi sang, “Everybody WAAAAAAA-nts to rule the world…” 

Next up followed an equally skinny scientist in a lab coat, named Dr. Doofenshmirtz. “There’s a room where the light won’t find you…” 

Dr. Eggman hopped up on stage right after. “Holding hands while the walls come tumbling down…” 

Right after him came an unusual robotic entity with a very glitchy voice, hailing from the realm of Deltarune. This was the former villain Queen, who was eager to join in. “When They Do I’ll Be: Right Behind You…” she sang, enunciating Every Word As If It Were Its Own Sentence.

Bizarro came up next, but the words were… not quite right. “Kcatta txen eht rof gnitiaw er’uoy nehw os…” Guess they forgot he only did everything backward, to the point that he started singing along to a completely unrelated Iron Maiden song. Backwards. 

“So glad we’ve almost made it…” sang out Robbie Rotten, one of those other preschool characters. No doubt he was terrified that someone was going to try and go after Lazy Town next before he could shut Sportacus up and get some peace, but if he was here, might as well go all out. 

“So sad they had to fade it…” That stanza came from Monika, the President of a school literature club with a very obsessive and murderous crush on the player from her game of origin. Hopefully, none of the other con-goers caught her eye.

The full gaggle of villains then lined up and sang altogether. “Everybody wants to rule the world!” 

Last but certainly not least, Hades joined them on stage. “...and the Underworld!” With just the flick of his fingers, he created a ghoulish pyrotechnic display that wowed the audience, who erupted in applause. Though, of course, the more “serious” villains just scowled at what they thought was a waste of time. Megatron (the Decepticon one) in particular smacked down his right-hand bot, Starscream, for seemingly enjoying the performance.

Gru got up on stage and joined everyone. “THANK YOU, EVERYONE! AND GOOD NIGHT TO VEELLAIN CON!” The audience let out a standing ovation, cheering for their favorite big bads.

As the performance wrapped up and the villains started walking off stage to talk to one another, Doofenshmirtz commented over to Eggman. “Well, strictly speaking, I just want to rule the Tri-State Area!” 

Eggman just snickered. “You think too small, my pointy-nosed compatriot. Why rule just one Area when you could rule a galaxy?!”

Doofenshmirtz replied, “You know how much work that is? I mean, the property tax laws alone would be too much of a hassle!”

“I DON’T WANNA RULE THE WORLD, I JUST WANT SOME MORE FREAKS!” Scott Steiner cried out. 

Nearby, Bowser was singing a different song as he tapped his fingers on the piano. “Peaches, peaches, peaches peaches peaches, peaches, PEAC–” The other villains just looked at him funny. “...What?! I thought my song was better.”

Spamton then walked over and just started hawking his wares again. “HE Y        GU GUYS! LOOK AT ALL THE [[Money money money money! MONEY!]] I MAID AT MY Dd BOOTH SELLING [[Illegal in all 50 states.]]” 

Ignoring Spamton, Hades saw the old Music Meister crying in the corner.

“HOW COULD THEY NOT BOW BEFORE MY WHIMS!? I’M THE MUSIC MEISTER! I’m not… I’m not…” He bawls even harder now, left wondering what he’d done to deserve such a cruel fate. “I DIDN’T EVEN HAVE TIME TO WRITE A SONG ABOUT MY POST-CON DEPRESSION!”

Hades just snickered – more business for his rotten tomato-throwing gig – and went to sit down on a couch nearby. He pulled out a magazine titled “Greek Illustrated Monthly”, with a picture of a swimsuit-clad Aphrodite honing the cover. He just read through the articles, thinking that drop-dead-gorgeous goddess of love would be in his arms right about now if she weren’t married to that lummox Hephaestus. Oy, that guy’s got a mean right hook.

Heck, the best Hades ever got was that mashugana fairy Maleficent, having met years ago at, of all places, Mickey’s nightclub in Toontown. Love at first sight was certainly in full effect, and it quickly grew into a full-on romance before it eventually became a marriage. Yet after they had their first kid, it all grew sour when the Mistress of All Evil set her sights on the power of something called “Kingdom Hearts”, and put together an alliance of other Disney Villains to accomplish it. Things… turned sour between them after that, and eventually Hades walked away from both the scheme and his now-ex. Oy, he was lucky he never bumped into that froy during this whole convention, otherwise it’d be yet another argument about child support payments!

But even as his thoughts tried not to dwell on his ex, Pain and Panic ran into the room, screaming like banshees and startling the other villains.

“BOSS! BOSS!” 

Hades just poked up from his magazine and groaned. “Oy, what are you two nimrods kvetchin’ about this time? In case you hadn’t noticed, this is my coffee break. And just cause you two never seem to pay attention, I don’t get no coffee. So, unless you swung by that cafe down on Fifth and picked up my order –”

Panic just got in Hades’ face in a… well, panic. “SIR! THIS IS IMPORTANT! IT’S A CODE X!”

Pain follows suit and gets up in Hades’ face as well. “YEAH! CODE X! CODE X!”

In his annoyance, Hades just shoved the two dimwits to the ground, only to realize what they said. “Wait, wait, wait a minute. Code X?” 

The two imps nodded in unison. Hades’ brow furrowed. “Well, why didn’t you two come and get me SOONER?!” He then incinerated the two once more. As Pain and Panic started to gather themselves up again, the Lord of the Dead started to open a portal back to the Underworld, then turned to his fellow villains and said, “Sorry fellas, work emergency. Save me a seat at the big poker tourney! I got plenty to bet with!”

And within a flash, the Lord of the Dead had disappeared, returning to the domain from which he ruled. 

The Underworld. Here, death reigned supreme as hundreds of thousands of souls were subject to torment. At least, that’s what it used to do. Once the worlds all merged, Hades found that there were now at least four other underworlds trying to compete with his – one that was run by a Princess who was apparently using a hotel to try and redeem wayward souls, another where that Fiend guy lived, a third ruled by the demon Mephisto, one where the devils that Makima and her ilk spawned, and at least one more from where this literal Hellspawn emerged. And as far as Hades knew, there were dozens more out there he had no idea about. Well, at least his underworld got to torment a lot of the historical dictators. As he walked past a line of tormented souls, he took joy in seeing Adolf Hitler getting his innards torn out by demons as he screamed loudly in German. A nearby pair of torture racks was marked reserved for a certain “Donald J. Trump” and “Elon R. Musk”, with countdown timers on each that were fluctuating wildly.

His thoughts dwelled on the potential identity of this “Code X”. Rare was it for such a term to be used, as it only meant one of the most powerful beings of all had been felled by someone else – usually angels, devils, or even demigods. Some small part of him hoped that it was Wonder Boy, that way he could rub it in Zeus’ face that his son was now trapped in his domain. 

But to his shock, he saw instead the wretched, decrepit soul of what used to be the Oligarch Devil. Or rather, as he knew him, Emperor Sheev Palpatine of the Galactic Empire. His head had been partly blown to bits by Makima’s finger gun.

He snickered a little bit, amused at his cohort’s situation. “Well, Sheevy, guess your time came up too early, didn’t it? Kinda shockin’, considerin’ your number ain’t up for another 30 years or so.”

“Spare me your indignation, Hades,” exclaimed the soul of the Sith. “Your constant chatter is but a tiring reminder of why I chose to avoid this fate.”

“Yeah, and look how well that’s worked out for ya.” He sarcastically patted Palpatine’s “back” as he overlooked the soul. “Lemme guess, the old angster finally got the one up on ya? Or did this whole mishmosh cause your grandkid to show up a bit too early and send ya to the funeral pyre?”

Palpatine just frowned. “No. It was Makima.”

Hades stopped in his tracks for a second. “I’m sorry, I musta have had a chunk of brimstone in my ear, cause I swore you said 'Makima' there for a second.”

“It is the truth. The Control Devil has brought my reign to an end, far too soon.”

Hades stood there in silence, then he bawled out in hysterical laughter! “HAHAHAHAH!” Palpatine looked at him, unamused with his compatriot seemingly mocking his demise. 

“You find this amusing?”

Hades finally calmed himself down enough. “No, no, no, it’s–it’s not that. I just can’t believe that YOU, of all people, got brought down by the Anime Dog Lady! I mean, you spent 13 years plottin’ the galaxy’s downfall, you wipe out the Jedi, turn Mister “I Hate Sand” into your ultimate right hand – heck, you even build a planet-destroyin’ superweapon in secret – and you’re tellin’ me that Makima managed to kill ya? What, what, did you try hirin’ her on as your new apprentice or somethin’?”

Palpatine just stared in silence, confirming Hades’ suspicions. “Oh my Gods, you did! Wow. Sheevy, there’s no easy way of saying this, but… You done goofed, my wrinkly friend. Even a guy like me wouldn’t have tried makin’ the old hottie do my dirt work, cause – news flash! – She’s called the Control Devil; she doesn’t bend over to anyone unless it’s discount Leatherface, and even then, she wants the little schlemiel inside the twig currently hostin’ ’em! Heh, I’m startin’ to see why people are so up in arms about your whole “Final Order” backup plan – you do not think these things through.”

Palpatine just let out a deceitful smirk. “And yet, you too are but a fool, Hades.”

Hades just looked confused. “Me? Hey, I don’t know if you noticed, Sheevy-boy, but I ain’t the dead one floatin’ around here.”

Palpatine let out another sadistic cackle. “Do you believe she will stop now that I am defeated? I was but the Oligarch Devil – the pure embodiment of mankind’s fears of plutocracy in action – and yet, I was felled. Still beyond the pale of this new world lie others like her. Others that could either serve as allies… or enemies.”

“Woah, woah, you talkin’ like Galactic Empress Makima? Pfft, she’s dangerous, sure, but she ain’t that talented to actually run the joint. You saw fit to do that by stackin’ the place up with those minions you call “Stormtroopers”. Seriously, I’ve seen blind people with better aim than those guys!” 

“I refer not to my former armies, but to what is to come.” Palpatine continued, leading to Hades growing curious. “Now that she has the means to restore what was lost to her, she will deem this new reality unfit to be ruled by others.” 

Suddenly, a realization hit Hades. Makima had the Galactic Empire under her thumb, which means she had a lot of resources at her disposal. And with those resources, she could seek out others whom she could force to her cause with her devil powers. And with those others, it could lead to more powerful beings who would respect someone like her, assuming she didn’t brainwash them into her subservience. And those she couldn’t brainwash, well…

Of course, Hades tried to play this cool. “Yeah, like I’m supposed to care. So, what if Maky wants the whole stinkin’ galaxy? I am a god in case you forgot. She can’t touch me even if she wanted to. Heck, the more schmoes she fries, the more of those dumpkovs wind up in my underworld for me to torment for all eternity.” He looks over a sundial on his wrist. “Speaking of which, I think we have a 2:30 lined up for ya down in the dead Devils’ section. Heard they’re serving up an acid bath tonight.” 

Hades snapped his fingers, and some of his undead monsters came to grab Palpatine’s soul, grasping it by the arms as they walked in to bring the dead Sith in for torment. The Lord of the Dead let out another snide comment as Palpatine was dragged off. “Good seein’ ya, Palpy, but I gotta go and start workin’ on those expansion plans. I expect Little Red’s gonna be annihilating a few hundred planets or so with Death Star III or whatever, so might as well capitalize on it!”

But as Palpatine’s soul was dragged away, he managed to get in the last word.

“If Devils can be brought to death, what chance does a God stand?”

And as the Sith was taken out of sight, those words started to hit Hades. He walked back to his throne, took a seat, and started thinking things over. Sure, Makima was powerful, but even as an Empress, she didn’t have enough folks. At least not yet. But, she was the Control Devil, not the Death Devil! She had no domain over a concept that Hades himself was the master of!

At least, she wasn’t yet. And she had already killed Palpatine, another of her kind, and he was probably the most dangerous guy from his reality! And as one of the Four Horsemen, she wasn’t that far removed from the actual Death Devil!

So, what would happen if she grew powerful enough to kill a god? 

No, that wasn’t the right question. What if she grew powerful enough to make a god beg to be killed?

“PAIN! PANIC!”

The two imps rushed into the room. Hades barked out, “I want the full Sesame Street incident on my desk in five minutes, PUH-RONTO!”

Not even less than a minute later, Hades looked over the scroll on what Makima attempted to do to that little town. He compared it to other previous incidents in which others had tried to wipe Sesame Street off the map – mostly from the types of folks that Hades’ own voice actor supports (surprise, surprise) – but nothing had even come close to a full-on dirty version of Vesuvius like what Makima tried to pull! He did laugh a little at Plankton’s own, more cartoonish attempt to kill the Muppets, which he could accept since it was more “normal” for a guy like him (hey, he did try to off baby Hercules), but still. 

Right next to him was Makima’s own profile, pulled straight from any potential additions to his underworld. Under a note marked “Place torture temperature beyond maximum limits. Stick next to known ginger-hater Eric Cartman for ultimate irony”, there was the list of sadistic deeds she had done in her lifetime. But perhaps her worst of them all, marked in bright red letters, was how she had sadistically killed Power, the Blood Devil Fiend, and mocked Denji over it to break his spirit and obtain Pochita for herself. 

Right there and then, Hades came to the cruel realization that Makima wouldn’t just leave him alone. In her mind, he was nothing but an obstacle; a target she would simply dispose of the moment she found a way to end him. But if he proved to be too much of a tough cookie, she would break his spirit, make him beg for death at her hands, and go after everything he cared for. Not just the underworld for which he ruled over (which he took his duties in very seriously, even if he wanted out of this dump), but the one person in the entire universe he had just a small soft spot for. 

At this point, he decided he was done playing nice.

Hades whistled for Pain and Panic, calling the two imps over. They ran into the room, needles and thread in their hands, and with pins jammed in Pain’s behind. 

“Boys, pack your bags! We’re goin’ shoppin’.”

Pain and Panic looked at each other, confused. Pain eventually spoke up, asking, “Uh, boss? What are we getting?”

Hades clasped his hands and said, “The world’s changin’ out there, so it’s time we get with the program. If Makima’s decidin’ to play hostile takeover with George’s old toys, might as well see if we can keep up.”

“You mean… a new villain team?” Pain asked.

Panic then stupidly suggested, “Does that mean you’re going to call… her?”

“NO.” Hades bluntly replied. “Nonononono! Absolutely the me not! No way! Not happenin’! Never! Not callin’ up that froy if my life depended on it!” Yes, it was all too commonplace for Disney Villains to tend to team up with one another, and sure, Maleficent was a powerful sort, but truthfully, Hades would rather work with Hercules again than have to go anywhere near his ex. Instead, he had a much different idea in mind, as he saw Barney gleefully (and ignorantly) tormenting Pol Pot.

“Hoo-hoo! I just love playtime, don’t you, Mister Pot?” asked the dumbassasaur as Pot screamed out in a mix of Cambodian and utter agony.

Grinning from ear to ear, Hades told his minions, “We’re gonna make this a different kinda family affair. But first, I need me a new ride.”

“A new ride?” asked Panic.

“Face it, teleportin’ around’s just gettin’ too bothersome.” Hades then grabbed a pamphlet. “You two, grab the dino. Can’t go anywhere without my new prize-winner.”

The pamphlet was shown to be an advertisement for the hit television series, Top Gear UK. 

Moments later, over in England, Jeremy Clarkson, Richard Hammond, and James May, the show’s three hosts, had just come back from a commercial break and were preparing to make a big announcement. How they’d come back to a show they walked away from is beyond anyone’s guess, but upon quick inspection, they looked a bit dimmer than usual. Actually, they didn’t seem quite as bright as they used to. Perhaps the new merging of the realities caused them to become a bit more like their TV personas than how they actually are in real life, to say nothing of getting their old jobs back.

“Now, before you start asking what sort of fic this is, hold on,” said Deadpool. “I know these guys are real, but uh… their personalities from TV are just big-time exaggerations. I mean, you saw Scott Steiner get kerblooied by Devil Tits earlier, but him and the Racin’ Boys are, in fact, TV Tropes vets with their own SDCPs. And trust me when I say this little number was a big favorite during the olden days…”

Jeremy Clarkson was the first to speak, holding up a stack of papers in his hand. On them was a list of applicants for what’s supposed to be their “Star In A Reasonably Priced Car” contest, with several of the characters with Self-Demonstrating pages having already been marked out as ineligible – The Joker, for example, was marked “murderist”.  “Right! We’ve finally found our Star In A Reasonably Priced Car. He was once on GMTV — which, if you’re American, was a morning television thing in England-land — please welcome Barney the Dinosaur!”

Barney made his entrance into the studio, accompanied by foreboding music. Everyone started running away, except for the trio, their mysterious ally known as The Stig, and, obviously, their guest. In his excitement, Barney exclaimed, “Oh boy, oh boy, oh boy! Hi everybody!” The Stig and Barney then shook hands.

Clarkson then said, “Now, we did choose the purple polyester dinosaur as our Star because everyone on this whole bloody mashup was a bit anal towards us, and because they all fear him, bringing him on would be very funny to me. And he’s a bit of a terrifying creature of unknown origin, much like The Stig when you take off his helmet and firesuit.”

But James May seemed rather unamused. “CLARKSON! You do realize that we’re basically screwed?!? He’s supposedly an agent of that Greek underworld chap!”

As if right on cue, Hades himself appeared right in the middle of the soundstage.

“Someone call for me?! Nice act you got there, fellas, and nice Dacia Sandero you got. Thanks for the free ride!”

James May walked up to him and started trying to get him to leave. “Hold up, Mister—”

But Hades just brushed him off. “Mister Hades, Lord of the Dead, hi, how ya doin’? Listen, before you finish that sentence, you give one of my guys something, it automatically goes to me. Comprendo? Good. Anyhoo, next time, read the fine print before you pick the most obvious answer to your problem!”

Barney tried to do a little happy dance with his new set of keys, but Hades swiped them from his minion. “Uh-uh, not happening, Purple Nurple. You couldn’t use a door right. Passenger side, now.”

Without a care in the world, Barney just complied. “Okey-dokey, Mr. Boss Man!”

“And as for you three,” said Hades as he looked towards the flummoxed Top Gear hosts, “Keep up the act! Who knows? You might be good enough to play the underworld someday! HA!”

As he got in the car, he caught a glimpse of The Stig and called out to him. “Hey, Stig-Man! Haven’t seen you in a hot minute! Listen, babe, we gotta catch up sometime. Once you’re done here, come swing by my place for lunch.”

The Stig gave a thumbs up as Hades drove the car off and out of sight, leaving the hosts utterly floored. 

James then turned to Clarkson in a seething rage as he said, “Well, do you have something to say for yourself?!”

The only response Clarkson could muster is, “Only that for our next Star In A Reasonably Priced Car, we buy another Dacia Sandero cheap from the classifieds to keep it from being stolen by the Greek God of the Dead.”

Finally speaking up, Richard Hammond said to James May, “Or get a Fiat Panda. You like that car!”

“I know I love the Panda as much as I love the Sandero, but reminding me of that isn’t going to take away the fact that SOMEONE JUST STOLE OUR REASONABLY PRICED CAR!”

Then, Clarkson remembered something. “Well, we still have that used Honda Civic…”

Earlier on, the trio had decided to give a 2006 Honda Civic to Squidward, much to the octopus’ displeasure. Because some morons on the internet had decided to illegally copy his voice and train an artificial intelligence to mimic it, a whole slew of internet memes have popped up about him and all the other Bikini Bottom denizens spouting out crude or bizarre nonsense. Slowly but surely, Squidward had grown to despise it, and his own AI clone – nicknamed "Loudward" because of the bizarrely increased volume at which it spoke – was a particular sore spot for him. And when they gifted him that piece of garbage, the most infamous of them all…

As the Top Gear hosts turned to find the Civic to give to someone else, they spotted Squidward setting the 2006 Honda Civic on fire, laughing maniacally. He screamed out, “LOUDWARD SUCKS! NO MORE LOUDWARD! NO MORE CIVICS! NO MORE AUGUST 12! NO MORE DRUGS! NO MORE WEENIE CRACKING! HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!”

The dumbfounded Clarkson had little to say. But still, the show had to wrap. “Ahh, nix that. ...and on that bombshell, it’s time to end. Good night!”

And as the curtains drew on that night’s episode, no doubt one to remember for a lifetime, Hades drove his way across the landscape, while Barney stuck his head out the window like a big dumb dog. Some onlookers were wondering what the hell was something that ugly doing in a car like that, while in the backseat of the Sandero, Pain and Panic were just sitting there, wondering where Hades was taking them. 

Hades said, “You know, you just gotta love a free gift, right fellas?” 

Panic nodded in agreement. “Oh yeah! These seats are so comfy. Is that genuine leather?” He coddled the seat like he was sleeping on a soft pillow of white, fluffy clouds.

Pain just started playing with the seatbelt. “I didn’t even know they had these things! Sure beats horse-drawn chariots.” Within seconds, he got himself tangled in the seatbelt. 

Hades just snickers, grinning at his new prize. “Well, where we’re goin’ next, this Sandero is gonna look like Bacchus’ leftovers! Let’s just hope Barney’s Uncle’s in for a surprise visit.”

Completely ignorant of the punishment that Beast Megatron delivered upon him, Barney exclaims, “Yay! I get to see Uncle Gnashy again! He’s gonna be so exci –”

Before he could finish, a big-rig truck completely sliced his head off. Hades stopped the car and looked upon his once-again dead minion. He then gave off an angry stare towards Pain and Panic, then booted them out of the car, yelling, “GO GET HIS HEAD!” Being forced to comply, Pain and Panic then found Barney’s still-smiling head in a field next to a herd of cows and were about to grab it when a yellow walking star caused the head to pop like a balloon, exploding in a shower of visceral and brain matter. To their horror, it was the original          Starwalker again, as they screamed in frustration that he’d made more work for them.

“These cows are Pissing me off... I’m the original          Starwalker”

Hades peered out the window of his car and saw the mess the original          Starwalker caused. “Oy, I’m gonna be here for a while. Seriously, what’s with the walkin’ star?! What, what did the universe just make an instant Barney killer, cause it hated him that much? Heh, if we had one of those for every preschool show, Maki wouldn’t have needed to pull that little stunt.”

The star-creature then peered at the Sandero with intense displeasure, realizing that the Top Gear hosts had rewarded his arch-enemy Barney with the nice vehicle. “Those Brits should have picked the literal          Star                    (Walker).”

The original          Starwalker’s best friend then popped out of the ground, a red lump with a smiling face. “I’m Nubert! Everybody loves me!” he said as the cows gathered around him and started to lick him affectionately.

Meanwhile, far away in the woods, stood the damaged remains of a Predacon ship – the Darksyde – which was once commanded by Beast Megatron until it crashed on Prehistoric Earth millions of years ago. But the merger of the worlds had shifted it and the remains of the Maximal ship Axalon to the present day. Now, it was the usurper who shared the name with the warlord, and it was clear that neither Megatron respected the other. The Megatron of old was a failure who couldn’t keep his treacherous lieutenant in line, but the Beast Megatron… well, there was someone whose very actions ensured no one betrayed him. At least, not so competently, yeeeeeeesss.

Having left Villain Con early, he had been inspired to launch another genocidal campaign against one of those other pesky preschool series. As he sat in his hot tub, his rubber ducky in hand and an oil glass in another, operatic Cybertronian music played as the Predacon pondered over which childish locale he would destroy next. He had yet to hear of Sesame Street’s own near-downfall, so he had to choose between Sodor and LazyTown. Ah, but Robbie Rotten was just a harmless nuisance. But, those pale-faced locomotives, especially that braggart express engine that wouldn’t shut up about himself… they were an ideal target. It had resources for him to exploit, cheap labor, and then he could get his followers to stop making comparisons between the glory of Cybertron and the patheticness that were those colorful puff balls. Something made him wonder how humanity could be so foolish as to find anything from those shows to compare his glorious visage with; ah, well, just another reason to bring the human race to their knees. 

“Oh, don’t be so surprised, reader,” a certain red-suited mercenary joked from afar. “It’s true that fans of Cybertron’s favorite robots in disguise tend to overlap with fans of Britain’s most really useful engine – don’t believe me, check the TV Tropes Friendly Fandoms page. I mean, they have a lot of commonalities: colorful characters, loads of toys, starting flame wars online with each mention. Plus, I did mention one of our authors loves trains, and… well, let’s just say Tommy Boy’s not been a good rep for his side of the fence lately. But that’s for a lot later.”      

But before he could contemplate the matter any further, a bumbling insectoid robot came running in, a look of panic on his face. It was Waspinator, one of Beast Megatron’s lieutenants, and probably his most idiotic one to date. Scorponok at least had some loyalty. Tarantulas was too much of a sniveling backstabber with an intense appetite, Blackarachnia was as much The Vamp as she was all too eager to work with that cowardly spider, Terrorsaur’s ambitions were far too great, and Inferno had… a few screws loose despite his loyalty. But, Waspinator… Beast Megatron almost forgot he existed sometimes, since all he ever seemed to do was get blown to scrap.

“Megatron! Megatron!” the buzzing Predacon cried out. 

Beast Megatron stared at his lieutenant in one of the angriest glares he could deliver. “I thought I was not to be disturbed!”

Before the Predacon Leader could pull out his T-Rex cannon arm, Waspinator showed him a status report he had just received. “Dog Lady hazzzzz made Dark Lazzzer Zzzzword Man her zzzzlave!”

Beast Megatron looked on, somewhat befuddled, but intrigued. “Is that so?” he asked.

Waspinator nodded, his voice still buzzing as he tried to explain. “Yezzzz! Dark Lazzzer Zzzword Man wazzzz sent to Puppet Town, but Puppet Town got zzzzucked into a garbage dump! Dark Lazzzer Zzzzword Man’zzzzz mazzzzter zzzent him to die, but he didn’t! Then, Dog Lady killzzz Dark Lazzzer Zzzword Man’zzz Mazzzzter!”

Such information left Beast Megatron puzzling the situation further. He stared into the report, equally as intrigued as he was infuriated. But, he dared not let his frustrations show. He turned to Waspinator. “Hmmmmm. This changes things. Leave me at once, and alert our Predacons of this information.”

Waspinator did as commanded and left, flying out to speak to the rest of the faction.

Meanwhile, Beast Megatron slipped into one of his famous monologues, content to discuss matters with the only person he can have an intellectually stimulating conversation with – himself, of course. “So, it would seem the Control Devil has finally made her move. An impressive gambit on her part, tricking the Emperor into invading Sesame Street by attempting a genocide of it herself. Yeeeeees. And now, she’s placed herself in a prime position to strike, now with one of the galaxy’s most feared warriors at her side.” He stepped out of the hot tub, then simply slapped aside his invasion plans for Sodor; another instance of eliminating such pests would have to wait now that he knew that Makima would be gunning for him. “No doubt she has plans to come for those she would consider her rivals, and a few measly Predacons will prove ill-suited to handle her. But, I suppose some sacrifices have to be made.”

Beast Megatron thought on which of his minions he’d have to throw to the wayside, but he got little chance to think on the matter any further when he heard the revving of an engine inside his base. A grey Dacia Sandero sped its way inside the base, where it stopped just in front of the Predacon Leader. Out of it stepped Hades, who immediately turned on that infamous charm of his.

“Hey, if you wanna talk about sacrifices, I’m your guy.”

Incensed at this invasion, Beast Megatron aimed his T-Rex hand cannon at the Lord of the Dead. “How dare you disturb my sanctum! I told you I would not be so foolish as to accept your deals!” 

Hades just chuckled –  shortly after the merger, he’d started offering up his “services” to all the wayward souls he found, but none of them were willing to take the bait, Beast Megatron included. He’d even offered his godhood back in exchange for his spark, but it seems this lot was a lot smarter than the yutzes back in Ancient Greece. Still, Hades got right to the point. “Woah, woah, easy there, Rexy. Listen, just hear me out, I’m not droppin’ by for a cup of sugar or to get you to sign your little spark over to me for immediate godhood. I’m here because our mutual "friend" Makima, as I’m sure your little buzzy henchman told you, just made her power play move.”

The Predacon kept his cannon aimed at Hades, just in case. But still, he knew there might be some use for him. “Yeeeees. It’s a most distressing matter,” he uttered.

“Trust me, I got the dead wrinkly guy makin’ a stink in my underworld to prove it.” Hades then walked up to the robot. “Which means if we’re gonna survive whatever scheme that red-headed mashugana has planned, we’re gonna have to take things up a notch.”

This thought intrigued Beast Megatron. “Are you proposing we… ally against her?”

“You got a better idea, Megsy? Cause either we put up a “Dibs” sign on this corner of the universe before she gets the idea to go full Nero on it, or we’re gonna end up a bigger stain on the wall than what she did to Scotty back at the ol’ Villain Con, and trust me when I say that me bein’ gone’s not gonna help us bounce back like the old Chainmail!”

Beast Megatron thought it over for a second. He didn’t trust Hades one iota. But then again, he knew Makima wouldn’t leave him alone either, and he only had so many Predacons to throw away in trying to stop her. He let off a grin, but maintained his sharp glare. “I see. But you realize this is only a temporary alliance. Once the matter is over and the Control Devil is but a stain beneath my heel, we will go our separate ways and work tirelessly to destroy one another.”

“Deal!” 

Hades then started spitballing some ideas. “Listen, I know a couple of guys we can grab who wouldn’t want to end up wearin’ dog collars for the rest of eternity, some of whom owe me big time if ya get my drift. Shall we get this little Neo Legion of Doom started, or what?”

The Predacon Leader let off a small laugh. “Oh, I think we’ll do much more than that, my flame-haired ally. To the cosmos, and to Makima, I say this: no matter what you throw at us, no power in the entire omniverse will be able to stop our power from destroying YOU. HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!”

And with that, an atrocious alliance was born.

Before Megatron and Hades could get started, Eric Cartman, in his rodent-themed superhero guise from The Fractured But Whole (whose intentionally racist name won’t be repeated here), walked in planning to join the villains, though not for the same reasons as them. Don’t ask how he got past security, though – we’re just gonna say Scorponok fell asleep on the job. Or maybe Tarantulus was too busy sadistically cackling. Either way, his presence immediately caused both villains to glare back at him. Once again, even literal supervillains proved to be more human than Cartman. 

“Count me in, you guys!” exclaimed the disguised Cartman. “The fucking Ginger Queen made Star Wars even more woke! Now, they made her a fucking girl power girlboss that turns Darth Vader into her little pussy bitch! No more trucies with her. We’re gonna become the new C**n and Friends and fight against all that woke bullshit ruining everything I like!”

Incensed with his interruptions, Beast Megatron grabbed Cartman by the neck, choking him in his grip. “Ah, my sweet, innocent little intolerable brat! We’re here to fight an actual war, not a frivolous culture war, noooooooo! GET OUT!”

Within seconds, Cartman was sent flying on another round trip to who knows where. Hades soon became – 

“Ah, ah, sorry to interrupt the narrative there, whoever’s writin’ this (love the stuff you're doing’ by the way, babe – can I call you babe?), but I gotta put this one out for all the folks readin’ just so they don’t get the wrong idea. Ahem… FYI for all you Hademaniacs out there, Jamie boy may do my voice, but I am not him, and he is not me. So yeah, I agree with Cretaceous Carl that Mr. I-Hate-Everything over there’s an annoying little rotten olive who’s way too hateful even for me. Whew. Anyway! We now return to your regularly scheduled mega-crossover!” 

Of course, that didn’t beguile the fact that you-know-who wasn’t too happy about being interrupted. “AHEM. Move it along, hot-head! I already got the fourth wall-breaking market cornered!”

“IT AIN’T YOUR EXCLUSIVE CLUB, YA RED-SUITED DUMPKOV!” Hades shouted back. “AS FAR AS THIS FANFIC’S CONCERNED, IT’S ANYONE’S GAME! NOW ZIP IT FORE I REMIND YA THAT WHILE YA MAY NOT BE ABLE TA DIE, I CAN STILL MAKE YER LIFE MISERABLE!”

Confused by his cohort’s ramblings, Beast Megatron decided to press on. But while he listened in to wonder if Cartman had gotten sucked into a jet engine or something, a blue knightly figure entered the ship. Once again, Roulxs Kaard had made himself known.

“Feare not! I, too, shall Assisteth!” he boldly proclaimed as he approached the towering robot.

“What?! NO, YOU BUFFOON! NOOOOOOOOO!” Megatron cried out in protest. “When we decided to start our little Villain Team-Up Club, we didn’t mean you! We’re good, you may leave now!”

But the Predacon’s words fell on deaf ears. “Haha, quite! We, as a Teame, art Goode!” Within seconds, Roulxs shrank himself down into the Hammerspace inside Beast Megatron’s chest, stowing himself away. As the two villains wondered what the heck just happened, the walking star showed up again.

“I will also        join” 

Starwalker then walked (with a very smooth animation cycle) towards the Predacon leader and joined his fellow Darkner slash key item inside the hammerspace, once again flooring both the tyrant and the god.

Finally, after a few seconds of awkward silence, Hades spoke up. “You... uhhh, might actually want to keep that one around. Just in case your maybe-nephew-who’s-also-my-minion shows up when he isn’t ’sposed to, so…” Nearby in the corner, Pain and Panic sighed in exasperation, knowing that Starwalker would cause them a ton of extra work every time he decided to show up.

Beast Megatron let out a heavy sigh. “We need some form of vetting process…” Little did he know that inside of a large crevice, a rather oversized rat was quietly sneaking his way out…

But back at Villain Con, it was a much different story — not of villains uniting under the singular banner of stopping a much greater threat than them, much like the Greek God of the Dead and the Predacon Leader. No, someone else had an entirely bolder approach in place…

The convention had certainly rolled out the red carpet for its cadre of baddies, treating each past, present, and future villain like royalty for their various misdeeds. And sure, everyone came out to see their favorites, like all fans did. But no convention was complete without featuring a few guests who were legends of evil, and such distinctions were rare to grant. Darth Vader, being cinema’s most iconic villain, was one such legend, commanding charisma, presence, intimidation, and force all at once. Of course, he was far from the only one, as one panel demonstrated. An entire section had been set up for a full hour after the concert, and hundreds of concertgoers were lining up for it almost out the door. But for whom?

Behind the curtains, the panel’s presenter was eagerly awaiting his opportunity to address the crowds, though at the moment, his attention was diverted to his smartphone, as a buxom redhead in a yellow jumpsuit was addressing an audience from a live television report.

”This is April O’Neill reporting live from Sesame Street, which has now gone from one of the most joyous places on Earth to a site that faced destruction not once, but five times in the last day. Authorities from the Strategic Homeland Intervention Enforcement and Logistics Division are on hand as the world is now being gripped by what media outlets have called “The Sesame Sieges.”

“Is that what they chose to call it?” spoke Xanatos. “And I was worried these newscasters had lost their creative touch.”

April’s report continued onward as she said, “Since the merger of realities, world leaders have expressed concern that the numerous preschool properties were at considerable risk from a much larger community of supervillains, no thanks to a long-standing distaste of the genre. Those concerns have now been proven true, for this and the recent death of the infamous Barney the Dinosaur have left numerous governments concerned that their own people may be at risk from further incursions.”

This same man then saw the images of the various villains who went after the street, each accompanied by the footage of their different attempts, though Cartman’s “attempt” was marked “IT JUST HAPPENED”. “These six supervillains — all different in heinousness, but no less the same in their aims — came remarkably close to turning the beloved children’s characters into corpses, had it not been for the timely intervention of our own collective of various champions.” The footage showed Aki’s, Superman’s, and Oscar’s own differing acts of heroism, though the shot of Luthor clashing with the Man of Steel made Xanatos chuckle, as footage of him flying by after talking down Gwi-Ma played next. 

“You never could let go of a grudge, Lex. Revenge, as they say, is a sucker’s game.” 

There were very few villains who could command total respect in this world, even that of the Control Devil. But, amongst those select few, there was Xanatos. CEO, businessman, the richest man alive (yes, even more so than a certain apartheid-loving tech bro), philanthropist, Machiavellian schemer, world-class genius, husband, father – many things, to be sure, but never boring. It was said he once purchased an old Scottish castle, then paid to have the entire thing shipped brick-by-brick to his personal skyscraper, then had it reassembled, all under the table… just to see if he could determine if a curse cast upon that place was actually true. And so it was, for he wound up bringing about a major power into the fray: the Gargoyles.

Stone by day. Living by night. 1,000 years ago, during the age of superstition, they once dominated the lands. But betrayal and deceit, brought about by fear and hatred, led to the demise of their greatest clan. And so, it was upon the very perches that they were sealed, trapped in stone for a millennia. It was because of Xanatos that six of them returned to the land of the living, unleashing what became known as The Manhattan Clan. And for so long, they were his enemies; one built of mutual respect, to be sure, but enemies nonetheless. Their leader, Goliath, matched his brute strength and his own sharp wits with Xanatos’ keen intellect and own penchant for complex schemes. And usually, Xanatos somehow got something out of it, even in defeat.

Yet, just as ironically, they had to work with Xanatos as often as they had to face him, usually when a combined threat proved greater than either party could handle alone. Even when he was scheming to obtain immortality somehow, even when the Gargoyles somehow interfered in his plans, that respect always held enough to keep them from tearing one another apart. Though granted, a man like Xanatos was never one to cross the most extreme of lines, simply because his plans were always ones of pragmatism to carry out his goals, never committing harm for the sake of it.

Perhaps unsurprisingly, he had a massive panel being hosted at Villain Con: “SCHEMING YOUR WAY TO SUCCESS: SPONSORED BY XANATOS ENTERPRISES.” And given his status as an iconic villain, many were already lining up to attend, though clearly his focus was more on recent events. Between the Sieges and Makima’s takeover, it certainly left a lot of questions about his own future — questions that he would have to answer relatively quickly.

That being said, he also had another immediate obligation to meet, as a blonde man in a suit reminded him. “Beg your pardon, Mister Xanatos, but your panel is to begin in less than a minute.”

”Of course, Owen,” responded Xanatos. “Don’t want to keep the crowds waiting.” He prepared to step out on stage, but he momentarily gave pause. “Oh, one other thing. I want you to keep your ears to the ground; let me know the moment our mutual friend happens to reach out to the newly crowned Empress of the galaxy.”

Owen — or rather, the guise of Puck, the Shakespearean trickster of the Third Race, bound to a lifetime of service to the billionaire — dryly responded. “Of course, sir. But, do you believe he’ll contact her?”

”I have no doubt of that,” replied the billionaire. “I think I’ve been working with him long enough to know what his life goals are — and she’s the ticket to getting them.” He smirked as he stepped out on the stage, the cheers of adoring crowds chanting his very name, though really, Owen was the most amused of the entire con. 

Although bound to this form, no thanks to dear old Oberon, only able to assume his true guise when honing the magical skills of young Alexander Fox Xanatos, Puck’s own amused sense of humor certainly left him rather intrigued by his friend’s apparent desire to see himself approach Makima. Of course, he didn’t quite know what Xanatos had planned at the moment, and frankly, he never did until it became apparent. Yet, he couldn’t help but chuckle to himself, “Xanatos is many things, but never boring…” 

“Thank you all for coming out today,” said Xanatos to the throng of cheering crowds, each lined up with their cameras. “I’m sure there’s a lot on your minds after recent events, but let me assure you that I fully intend to address them all. In fact, given what just transpired on Sesame Street, I think it should be our first topic of discussion.” Showcasing the footage pulled from the attacks, he then said, “This, my friends, is what you’d call an act of villainy too far.”

Indeed, the crowds were already booing (well, mostly booing, as there were still some in the audience who had those all-too-common childish fantasies of seeking the destruction of preschool series and were laughing over it). But those people Xanatos knew were a waste of breath. No, he had a much bigger crowd to address that would listen. “I know that Sesame Street isn’t what you’d call the most popular thing on the planet, but I think we can all agree that going after somebody who can’t fight back isn’t what you’d call the smartest move you could make.” Many of the audience cheered in agreement.

“That’s precisely why we at Xanatos Enterprises are fully committed to helping to protect Sesame Street – starting with a generous $30 million donation that will offer them the means to purchase whatever they need.” More cheers ensured as the smirk on the billionaire’s face said it all. Sure, he saved Sesame Street, and his apparent partnership with Gwi-Ma was probably the only thing that kept him from being vaporized… but he never did anything without reason, especially when there was something he could gain down the line. And his diligent fans had the distinctive feeling that he was rushing to the rescue and getting the Demon King to back down was so those Muppets owed him something…

Still, his condemnation of the attacks allowed him to easily segue into his presentation without so much as skipping a beat. “But most importantly, I hope that those in attendance learn the most important lesson when it comes to whatever career path they choose to pursue: never go for the target that can’t fight back. Even if you have all the power, it means nothing if people see you as this petty schoolyard bully. Pragmatism is what draws the line between the successful and the victor. Sure, you could do well, but at the end of the day, does it really grant you what you want?” The footage behind them then changed to showcase an image of the Eyrie Tower.

“20 years' worth of having it all boils down to each choice,” he continued. “With those choices, you rely on the idea that everything you do must play out to result in you gaining something. It doesn’t matter if it’s power, wealth, reputation, or something to further your own interests; what does matter is ensuring that by knowing those around you, and if that plays a part in bringing you towards that goal.” 

Once more, the image changed to feature footage from an incident in New York that occurred some time ago – the City of Stone, where nearly all the world was transformed into stone statues thanks to the vengeful desires of Demona, the former lover of Goliath, who became consumed in a streak of seeking humanity destroyed while refusing to accept her own faults for having become this monstrous being. “Which leads me to our first topic of discussion for today, which some of you may already be familiar with. Some time ago, an old enemy of mine nearly cast the world into eternal stone. Ultimately, there lay two choices on how to approach it: vengeance or a solution. And in my case, I never choose vengeance.”

“Many of those attending the convention feel that there must be some semblance of animosity between them and their enemies, as if the drive to have them destroyed is the sole means of ensuring victory,” Xanatos continued. “But I say there’s no point in destroying them, not when they’ve proven time and time again to be able to match wits and strength all at once. Because every once in a while, you may find that you’ll need their help to face a more common threat…” As he clasped his hands as the images of six fearsome-looking gargoyles appeared behind him, to the delight of the audience, he continued to smirk, watching closely to see that nearby, the very demon he had stopped from slaughtering Sesame Street was listening in closely… 

Back in the jungles, on the outskirts of the Darksyde, that giant rat had just left the Predacon base, skittering his way across the shrub as quietly as he could. In enemy territory, there was no way he could take any chances. Luckily, he’d been on this path many times to know which booby traps were scattered about, to say nothing of the fact that he was well aware of who set them. And underneath the numerous bushes, he could more easily blend into and take cover if he had to… assuming that those weren’t booby trapped either. But then again, paranoia is usually what kept him alive. Eh, mostly.

So instead, the rat made his way through somewhere far more uncertain – the snake pits. Oh, of all the places in this stinkin’ jungle, they had to crash somewhere with all the poisonous stuff! Granted, for a guy like him, it wasn’t so much the poison that made him worried, but the fact that snakes loved to make meals out of rats. And sure enough, there were those glorified, slithering reptiles crawling around, hissing over the bodies of dead rats and some Warmbos who’d gotten too close -- the eldritch puppets had wandered into the snake pits for some bizarre reason. The only reason the Preds never came out this way was because the snakes were of an equal annoyance to deal with, since the pit was also littered with pieces of Waspinator. Oy, poor guy could never catch a break.

“Heh, looks like bug-brain had the bright idea ta run this way,” snarked the rat in a thick Brooklyn accent. Wait… a talking rat? Unless…

Oh, wait, the snakes. Yeah. See, this big rat made for a nice juicy meal to the snakes, and this pit was full of big ones and little ones alike. And staring at him intently, they were all slithering up to see which one of them could get him into their belly first. “Sigh… dis is why I ain’t fond of scoutin’ duty. I always gotta take the snake path! Well… might as well get it over with. Rattrap… MAXIMIZE!” Within seconds, he’d transformed from this big rat into a tiny little robot, noted for his bronze paint and buck tooth. Or as he was better known, Rattrap.

“Alright, you wanna nice meal? Well, I gotcha the seasonin’!” Rattrap pulled out something from his chest cavity and dropped it in front of the snakes. Soon, it had released an extremely foul odor, made up of common household ingredients like clover and garlic. Pleasant as those aromas may be to humans, the snakes were quickly turned off by them, no thanks to that strong scent messing with their sensitive sniffers. Much to the Maximal’s amusement, they all began backing away and running for cover. “Hehehe, man, you snakes really oughta get yer noses checked!” Dusting his hands off, he transformed back into his rat mode and scurried off, not wanting to stick around for when those slimy snakes made their way back.

A few miles down the way from the Darksyde, there stood another crashed ship, wedged over a cliffside and in far worse shape. To its inhabitants, it was known as the Axalon. To their fans, this was the home of the Maximals.

200 years after the end of the Great War, the Maximals – descendants of the Autobots – ruled over Cybertron. It had been a remarkable golden age, one of which saw the upgrades of its population into smaller, more fuel-efficient bodies. But of course, there always stirred the apple of discord, and that apple was fueled by the Predacons – those that descended from the Decepticons. They did not want peace, believing the Maximals to be a cruel set of rulers oppressing Predacon rights. And over the years, the Tri-Predicus Council had plans to slowly dispose of their “overlords”. 

At least until some nobody named “Gnashteeth” stole the Golden Disk.

Back during the 1970s, the Voyager probe launched into space with a Golden Record, made up of recordings sent to alien life by Earth in the hopes of helping other species understand our culture. Well, in the Transformers timeline, Cybertron found it… or rather, the Megatron found it. At some point, he had located the Record and recorded a message on it, containing a plan that called for whoever found it to go back in time to when the Autobots and Decepticons lay in stasis onboard The Ark, and kill Optimus Prime before he could be brought online. The hope was that it would guarantee a Decepticon victory, and to those who knew of its true secret, a Predacon victory. So, this no-name Gnashteeth and his mentor, Cryotek, stole the disk with a cadre of loyal Predacons who wanted to take action against the Maximals instead of letting the Tri-Predicus Council sit on the skidplates thinking up schemes. 

Naturally, Cryotek took the fall while Gnashteeth, who had rechristened himself “Megatron” after the Decepticon, jetted off to Earth. In pursuit of him was a ship commanded by some equally unimportant Maximal commander named Optimus Primal, a discharge from the security force who was trying to dispose of some dangerous experiment called “Protoform X” before they were rerouted in pursuit of the Predacons. And from there, they both crashed on Earth.

Except things took a more unexpected turn.

In the prior timeline before this merger, they wound up on Prehistoric Earth as Beast Megatron intended, clashing in organic modes while it appeared the Predacon was more interested in this world’s raw Energon deposits – the same deposits that made them take said organic modes to avoid being overloaded with the sheer raw power they put out. Allies were found. Enemies were made. The Beast Wars began and brought about a whole slew of trouble along with it, as bonds were forged, loyalties were questioned, and eventually, Beast Megatron made good on his original plan and nearly altered history to his favor. After that, well… Beast Machines is a bit longer of a story.

This time, the merger saw fit that both factions crash-landed on Earth in the present day. Now, it was no longer a matter of being able to change history to fit the Decepticon’s favor so much as it was ensuring the Great War’s critical period didn’t end with their own history being wiped out. Granted, they mostly kept to themselves and the Beast Wars mainly stuck to the jungles as Primal’s forces explicitly had to keep the Predacons out of the war against their predecessors, though clearly that didn’t always work out. Maximals and Predacons alike were all too aware of the Autobots and Decepticons and vice versa, and both factions had to intervene from time to time whenever one side got the jump on the other, especially when Beast Megatron intended to fulfill his original mission. 

Fortunately, today was not one of those days, though Rattrap suspected it was going to be, as he sighed, walking up into the base, where the Big Bot himself was waiting alongside the other Maximals. And Primal wasn’t looking too particularly patient. “Well? Did you find out anything?” he sternly asked in Garry Chalk’s signature voice.

“Eh… if I told ya, would ya honestly believe me?” Rattrap snarkingly said as he returned to robot mode. “'Cause I saw a slaggin’ human…oid with flamin’ hair strikin’ up an unholy bargain with ol’ Lizard Lips!”

Nearby, a spotted Maximal named Cheetor asked, “Come on, Rattrap! How does that sound unbelievable? You saw what Megatron did to that… whatever it was!”

“Hisssss… yes…” growled Dinobot, the most vicious warrior of the bunch. “The saurian… as much as I would like to distrust the vermin’s report… we both know that’s no longer a question of possibility.”

The Maximal demolitions expert snarked back at his rival, “Yeah, thanks for the vote of confidence, Lizard Breath!” Already, the burly Maximal known as Rhinox was adjusting his seat in preparation for intervention, just in case those two came to blows again, but Rattrap ignored what his friend was doing to continue on. “But seriously, dis guy was just bad news all over! I mean, seems like Megsy knew ‘im or somethin’, since he was gonna shoo the guy away until they both decided dis “Makima” whozit was a bigger problem. Den there was this weird organic who looked like he was made outta ink, and den some weird walkin’ star… oh, and don’t get me started on the small, racist human that thought he could play Maximal…”   

“I have a pretty darn big feeling who that might be,” sighed Rhinox. Of all the things he’d been doing since the merger, including playing catch-up on their new history, the Maximal science officer made it his priority to check which new allies and enemies might be out there, and the infamy of Eric Cartman stuck out like a sore transistor. “Sounds to me like our old enemy’s decided he wants to play an even dirtier game these days.”

Snarling once more, Dinobot agreed, “Indeed. If there is one thing Megatron is fond of… It’s seeking to level the playing field, however he wishes. No matter how low he has to stoop…” Well, fortunately, one thing that didn’t change for the ol’ Dinobot was that he had a strong sense of honor – an honor that drove him to the Maximals, if only to try and challenge Primal for leadership when it seemed like Beast Megatron’s scheme had failed. Yet despite his fearsome appearance, brutish tenacity, and frequent butting of heads with Rattrap, it did not beguile the fact that he valued his code and fought to his last breath. And very tragically, prior to the merger, he famously did. 

The memory of such was vivid in his mind; protecting the proto-humans to ensure that Beast Megatron couldn’t prevent the rise of the Autobot’s greatest allies, and seemingly destroying the Golden Disk. And it didn’t matter to him that he died – he died a warrior, honored as such with his passing breath. Yet the new gift of life he had received… returned to his glory as if nothing had changed…

Well, almost nothing had changed. No thanks to the recent film Rise of the Beasts, the Maximals' designs were now much more in line with the “Knightverse”, as fans had dubbed it, being much more vividly detailed and bearing a techno-organic mixture for their robotic forms as much as their foe. Yet their faces remained simplistic and recognizable, despite the fact that they were now the exact same size as their Autobot forebearers. And then there was the whole incident in Peru, though it certainly played out a lot differently than in the pre-merged reality.

Still, the news left much to consider, even beyond these new looks and old faces being brought back, as Primal made clear. “So, if Megatron’s decided to get acquainted with a new face around here, what’s his endgame?”

“Beats me,” shrugged Rattrap. “The guy was a real slimeball, like one of those used car salesman types. Somethin’ about bein’ a god ‘n all, though I would bet my best tailpipe that’s more a load of hooey than anything. All I saw was that hothead and his new gang of baddies pretty much wanted ta go up against dis Makima chick that’s been makin’ a splash everywhere!”

Cheetor shook his head, knowing where this was leading. “Figures. Our biggest bad guts that idiot, and we’re practically dealing with bad guy teams up galore!”

“Hey, ain’t I supposed ta be the pessimistic one around ‘ere?” Rattrap tried joking to cheer up his teammate. 

Nevertheless, Rhinox said, “You know that bet you made? You would have lost.” He pulled up an image of Hades and continued. “This sounds like our guy – and he is a god. More specifically, Hades, the Grecian deity of death. And as it turns out, Megatron’s might-be-nephew’s master.”

“That thing… he is a god?” Dinobot asked, somewhat taken aback, though his usual hissing hid most of his concern. Well, most of it, since the other Maximals had been around him long enough to know when his trademark stoicism had slipped.

But Primal seemed to view that information not as a concern, but as a challenge. “Well… this just got more interesting.” Turning to his troops, the Big Bot himself then said, “Looks like we just found our opening to finally take Megatron down. And I think this Hades may have provided it.”

“Alright, let’s hear it,” replied Rhinox.

Smirking, Primal said, “Makima’s decision to attack Sesame Street and take over the Empire’s got Megatron desperate. If he’s teamed up with the likes of someone as powerful as him, even someone with his ruthlessness and admittedly clever stratagems is liable to slip up somewhere.”

“Ohhh, I see where you’re goin’, Big Bot!” Cheetor said. “If his little stunt with that Barney guy’s any indication, he’s got himself a real bad petty streak going!”

Even Dinobot couldn’t help but chuckle. “Yessss… it does seem that the one thing this new world has done in our favor is show Megatron’s… vindictive side. And if the creature still lives because of Hades, perhaps he will seek to satiate his petty hatred elsewhere.”

“Unfortunately, that spells out Megatron to a tee,” added Rhinox. “And if he’s convinced he’s got more power in his chest cavity, well… Primus knows that he’ll use it in any way he pleases. Let’s not forget his little stunt with the Nemesis back in the old timeline.”

Primal nodded in agreement, recalling all too well what happened that fateful day and what kind of devastation their foe unleashed before a clone of Dinobot regained the memories of the original (long story) and shut things down. “Oh, we know Megatron wants something. Otherwise, he wouldn’t have signed on with Hades. But like Cheetor and Dinobot said, that gives us our opening to get him riled up.”

“Yeah, assumin’ he don’t blast us ta smithereens with his new powers!” Rattrap snarked. “Sigh… we’re all gonna die. And I hadn’t even finished my Pred parts collection…”

Glaring at Rattrap, Dinobot snarked, “Your bravery is utterly inspiring. But still… There is one severe tactical disadvantage we face. At least before, there were only the Predacons serving Megatron… and they were certainly not the brightest of minions, despite having some skill as warriors.”

“Especially Waspinator,” agreed Cheetor. “Heh, I can’t remember the last time I was actually afraid of that overgrown bug.”

Rhinox peeked over and saw that out of all the parts Rattrap had gathered as trophies, most of them were of Waspinator. He did seem to have a habit of being blown to smithereens more often than not, including at Rhinox’s own “Chainguns of Doom”. But that still didn’t beguile the point. “And we’re still figuring out half this world and who else is out there. I can’t even begin to fathom what sort of firepower Hades is packing.”

“So far, anyway,” Primal replied. “Which means our firepower may not be enough to match.” He entered into a deep thought, trying to think over what possible weapons they could have to counteract this new unholy alliance. Although it certainly didn’t beguile the fact that there was still the issue of numbers. Scorponok, Tarantulus, Blackarachnia, Waspinator, and Terrorsaur on their own were familiar enough to contend with, though from what little Primal recounted from his own intelligence briefings, Hades had access to these four colossal beings called “The Titans”, and had history with this one-winged angel of sorts who fought for him in some tournament. And the only other Maximals out there were Tigatron and Airazor, both on patrol at the moment. So far, he hasn't found Silverbolt…

Wait, Silverbolt… he wasn’t the first bot to bear that name. Nor was Primal the first to bear the name “Optimus”…

“Gentlemen, I think our firepower is a lot closer than we think,” he said with a smug grin on his face.

The faces on the rest of the Maximals were a mix of confusion and concern. At least at first. Quickly, Rhinox was picking up on what Primal was suggesting. “You don’t mean –”

“Seriously?” Rattrap said as he too realized it. “You wanna go to them? I mean, don’t get me wrong, they’re nice guys n’ all, but don’t ya think the idea is ta avoid spookin’ Megatron inta jumpin’ the gun on his plans? If he knew who we wanted ta turn to –”

Primal quickly interrupted his train of thought. “That’s the idea. He won’t. In fact, I’m betting if he doesn’t make himself known immediately, Megatron will get a little too overconfident – after which we burst out our secret weapon. Assuming we can get him on board.”

“Subterfuge, Primal?” Dinobot asked, sounding almost impressed. “I did not think that was the Maximal way…”

Recognizing that was Dinobot’s way of a compliment, Primal replied, “New world, new rules, right? Besides, we all know why Megatron came to this period in the first place. I say we twist the knife even further; let him know that whatever he has planned with Hades, it won’t work.”

“Hehehe, I can get behind that kinda plan!” replied Cheetor as he transformed into his beast form. “So, we takin’ a little road trip?”

Rattrap snarked, “Yeah, a buncha animals takin’ the bus in broad daylight. That’s gonna blow over well!”

“Not the way we’re going,” Primal said as he transformed into his silverback gorilla mode. “See, last time in Peru, we got the keys to the kingdom. And the map there without attracting unwanted attention.” Turning to Rhinox, he said, “Give Tigatron and Airazor a call. Let them know to rendezvous with us at the outskirts of the jungle, then lock up.” Rhinox nodded as he walked over to the comms.

As Dinobot likewise took on his bestial form of the Velociraptor, the ex-Predacon said, “You’d better hope this works, Primal. If Megatron finds out what you plan…”

“He won’t,” Primal said sternly, but confidently. “And by the time he figures it all out, he won’t stand a chance. Who knows? I’m sure he won’t be the only one trying to find new allies.”

Dinobot merely growled in anticipation of the inevitable battle, his own curiosity piqued as the team began to walk down the exit ramp. “All the world’s a stage, and all the men and women merely players. They have their exits and their entrances; and one man in his time plays many parts… so perhaps we shall see what part we have yet to play.”

Soon, as the Maximals exited the Axalon, Rhinox followed behind and locked the ramp before assuming his own Rhinoceros form. “Hang tight, gentlemen. We’ve got a long road ahead of us.”

“Think we oughta at least let them know we’re coming?” Cheetor asked his commanding officer.

But Primal said, “Nah. They said we could drop by anytime we needed. And I think it’d be better if we surprised them. Sometimes, good surprises are a welcome sight.”

“Assumin’ we don’t get slagged on the way ovah,” groaned Rattrap. “Seriously, what I wouldn’t give for a stinkin’ fighter jet!”

Dinobot simply hissed at the rat and said, “If you’d prefer, we could simply drag your carcass to them. I’m sure the damage wouldn’t be… permanent.”

“Oh, you’d like that, wouldn’t ya, dino-breath!” he snarked back. “Sides, I ain’t takin’ no chances with those little felt freaks wanderin’ around! I’ve seen the way dey look at me…”

Chuckling, Primal gestured to the team to move forward. “Come on, everyone. Next stop… Mount St. Hilary.”

Outside the Villain Con halls, there was no jubilation – no joy – for Darius Chapel. Just the sounds of merciless sobbing and utter despair.

With the convention over for the day, and currently nowhere else to go, he had slunk out of the building and curled up in a feeble little ball, unable to muster the strength to make his way back to Gotham City. Not when he knew the truth.

“I’m a failure…”

Music Meister’s whole shtick – brainwashing the mashes with his melodious voice – was no longer working. Hell, it only worked on pure idiots, of which even in a reality filled with regular humans, wasn’t enough. Most everyone was smart enough to just… just… shrug him off! All those years he’d been planning to dominate the world through song were now about as shot as a bass with a sore throat. How could he rule the world when most of them would just see him as a singing nuisance?

“I’m… the Music Meister… greatest… villain… “ His attempts to cheer himself up failed and he returned to hysterical sobbing. For him, this was the curtain call he’d never asked for; a laughing stock of supervillainy. Already he was dreading how Arkham’s inmates would rake him over the coals for his powers faltering on him. 

Of course, he had to tempt fate and ask, “I suppose my life couldn’t be much worse…”

“Guess again.”

That voice… no, no! It couldn’t be him! Panic swept over him as he recognized that distinctive baritone calling out from the shadows – the baritone typically associated with one Kevin Conroy! “NO! NO! NONONONO! IT CAN’T BE!” But it was. In the shadows, the white irises belonging to the last person on Earth he wanted near him right now gleamed through, like a demon in the night.

THE BATMAN.

“YOU – YOU’RE NOT SUPPOSED TO BE HERE!” Music Meister screamed as he huddled against the wall. “THIS IS FOR VILLAINS ONLY!”

Cracking his knuckles, Batman stepped out of the shadows as he approached the Music Meister. “Where you go, I follow. And luckily for you, tonight’s your last chance to walk away from all this. So listen carefully – the next sixty seconds will determine whether or not you go back to Arkham…”

In loving memory of Kevin Conroy (1966-2022). Forever vengeance. Forever the night. Forever the Batman.

Chapter Text

Toronto, Ontario. The fourth most populated city in North America. Here, history and culture alike aligned to deliver a place that offered just about everything to everyone. After all, this sprawling metropolis offered a great deal in the way of art, food, music, celebrations, filmmaking, economic development and growth, trade, transportation, and so much more. Indeed, Hogtown, as she was affectionately known thanks to her prominence as a meat-packing city, was probably one of the luckiest places in the merged reality to be, especially today!

You see, between its numerous luxury hotels, the sprawling convention center, and local railroad history center, popular sports teams, and numerous dining experiences, there happened to be one spot above all else that had the most action: a small Chinese temple deep in the heart of the city, devoted to worshipping Sun Yee. And at the center of it all was a 13-year-old girl named Mei Lee, a straight-A student, a fan of one of the hottest boy bands in history, a giant red panda…

Wait, a giant red panda?

Thanks to a curse on the Lee family line, every female had the ability to transform into a giant red panda whenever they were excited or stressed. And unfortunately, it was Mei’s turn… and mommy dearest, overly doting on her child, was eager to see that she sealed it away when the red moon came about, trapping this side of her in a talisman. 

It already wasn’t easy to live under her mother’s expectations - but no child enjoys suppressing parts of themselves to please their parents, and Mei was no exception.  So, when push came to shove, she chose to keep the red panda and sneak her way into the 4 Town concert, against what her mother wanted. She uh… she didn’t take it well. As in, she turned into a Kaiju and trashed what was then called the SkyDome. Mei stopped her and helped her overcome her own lingering traumas, but… well, they had a few years ahead of them to pay off that settlement with the city.

But, if any good came out of that whole mess, it was that Toronto’s music scene exploded (not literally, thankfully). From that point onward, all the big music stars from all the genres made sure to swing by and serenade audiences with their songs. Anytime a concert was held, it was practically a national event. Even the music stores made sure to keep stocked up on all the greats, like Hatsune Miku, The Hex Girls, and even Spinal Tap. Today, however, was the latest music sensation’s big arrival, as the whole city was preparing for HUNTR/X’s arrival. From end to end, fans had lined the streets, wearing cosplays and decked in various posters, banners, and decorations showing their love for the trio. 

And wouldn’t you know it, at Toronto International Airport, our trio had just arrived at Hogtown, suitcases in tow, disguised in casual wear to avoid drawing too much attention. Well, almost, since Mira belted out, “I! Love! Toronto! Mmm, that crisp, cool air… gets me every time!”

“It’s like a home away from home for us,” Rumi agreed as she rolled her suitcase to a stop. “I don’t know, something about this place just —“

Mira interrupted, “Feels so open and welcoming?”

“Yeah. I guess it does.” The lead singer of HUNTR/X took in a breath of the colder air as she gazed upon the city’s glistening skyscrapers, the CN Tower being visible in the distance. “Honestly, when was the last time we came here?”

Mira shrugged her shoulders and replied, “I can’t remember. Between both our jobs, it’s hard to keep track. But, hey, anything for our fans.”

“And we can make a whole bunch of new fans!” Zoey exclaimed as a big old grin was plain as day on her face. “Just imagine, we can have fan clubs in all sorts of places! Like…” she gasped, “in ARENDELLE!”

Chuckling, Rumi shook her head at Zoey’s enthusiasm as she tried to gently remind her, “Maybe we should see how things work in this new world before we assume any fan clubs exist. Honestly, a real location was one thing, but now that it’s got… well, probably a lot of different things…”

To emphasize the point, a car sailed twenty feet over their heads, its wheels replaced with white-rimmed hover pads. Sitting in the driver's seat was a fully robotic man with five glowing blue lights on his gray metal forehead.

“I mean, we’re here, right?” Mira asked. “And last I checked, we had a Toronto in our world. And every other world at least had a Toronto. So, this is a… what, Toronto's mashup just as much as the rest of us?”

The realization hit Zoey with the full force of a truck — and she was loving the idea all the more. “That means there’s just even more we haven’t seen yet!”

“And I’d say the first stop we make is the hotel,” said Rumi. “After that long flight, the first thing I need is a hot bath and the biggest buffet table they have.” To her embarrassment, her stomach grumbled with the force of an auto engine. And soon, Mira and Zoey’s own stomachs followed suit.

As all three girls shared a laugh over their shared hunger, Mira said, “Definitely think grub’s on the list first. Serious carb reloads in order.”

“Mmm, I’m getting a serious craving for some sushi pizza right now,” Zoey replied. “Or maybe some Toronto-style bagels!”

Rumi then said, “Welp, guess our first stop’s the nearest restaurant then. My treat. I know Zoey’s in the mood for a full plate, so what about you, Mira?” But, when she turned around, poor Mira was looking stunned — uncharacteristically so. “Uh… Mira?”

“Anyone up for chicken?” Mira said in an almost stunned tone, as the girls found themselves now looking at a headless chicken, wearing a nametag that read “Bucky”.

Quickly, Zoey became enamored with it. “Awwww, it’s kinda cute!”

“Yeah, if you want a bad case of salmonella…” snarked Mira as she just found this “Bucky” character weird. “Seriously, are we not gonna talk about the fact there’s a headless chicken in the room?”

But then, Bucky somehow spoke. “Hiya, folks! The name’s Bucky, and I’m egg-cited to meet you!” The sheer shock nearly made HUNTR/X topple over – at least until they remembered that they were now in the same world as Godzilla. At this point, a talking headless chicken wasn’t the strangest thing. At least until Rumi saw that he had glowing, grey markings.

“Oh my god… that’s a demon!” she exclaimed, habit driving her to reach for her sword. “But… it doesn’t seem to be bound to anyone.”

Mira’s hand was already in the Honnmoon, grasping at her gok-do. “Not yet, you mean.”

“So… why is it a headless chicken?” Zoey asked a bit more innocently than her bandmates, though she was getting her shin-kal out just in case.

Luckily, Bucky quickly explained, “Oh, that’s easy! I happen to be the one and only Chicken Devil! Not exactly what you’d call a powerhouse, but hey, it’s not a big deal! I’ve got it pretty good these days!” Indeed, Bucky was quite fortunate now, for in his world, life had dealt him a bum hand almost immediately after he showed up. After Makima’s defeat, Bucky wound up in a classroom of would-be Devil Hunters – a class pet that they had three months to bond with before killing it. They couldn’t bear to kill the guy, being that amongst all the Devils out there, he was one of the known handful to embrace being an all-around nice guy.

Then, he died.

No, seriously, Bucky died - squished by a poor young girl named Asa Mitaka, who wound up being shunned for her innocent mistake. And it turns out it wasn’t a mistake; the Class President tripped her under orders from the Justice Devil, as part of a plan to allow Asa to be possessed by Yoru, the War Devil. Long story short, the world was prophesied to end in 1999 unless Chainsaw Man was powerful enough to stop it, and it involved breaking Denji down in a way that made Makima’s own efforts seem almost more pleasant. Poor guy really couldn’t catch a break!

But, much like Makima and several others, Bucky was alive again. And working for Toronto International… for some reason. Not that it didn’t have a certain endearing trait to the concept, as Zoey immediately asked, “Can we keep him?”

“I don’t think that would be a good idea with Derpy.” Rumi replied to Zoey, much to her disappointment, as the band’s lead singer turned to the Chicken Devil and asked, “Listen, uh, Bucky. What are you doing here?”

He let off a happy chuckle and replied, “Well, ma’am, I just so happen to be the local tour guide to all things in Toronto! Managed to land myself a real swell job working for the airport, helping visitors like yourself get a full view of everything our fair city has to offer! And by golly, I’d love to be that guy if you’d let me!”

“A talking, headless chicken. As a tour guide.” Mira just sighed and said, “Welp, ok. That’s a thing, now.”

At the very least, he was being rather nice. And they did just say that with every Toronto merging into one, they’d need someone to show them around. So, she knelt and said, “Well, since you did ask so nicely, we could use someone to help give us a tour.”

“GREAT!” exclaimed the headless chicken. “It’s going to be an egg-citing day for all of us! And I’ll make sure you take in every sight you can possibly think of!”

Mira quickly snarked, “I hope that thing’s not planning on driving us around.”

“He’s very nice at least!” exclaimed Zoey. “I like him!” Well, there was no arguing with the chicken’s enthusiasm. And Rumi, though weary, at least knew he wasn’t bound to someone worse.

But nearby, someone very familiar was walking down the street past the airport, and it just so happened that HUNTR/X was in the midst of talking to Bucky. This stranger, though unnoticed at first, was just minding his own business when he heard some sinister voice in his head. Six voices, as a matter of fact, echoing as one. “YOU… ARE… HUNGRY… CHICKEN… NEARBY…”

“Chicken? Where? Where?” Uh oh. That voice was that of Dan Castellaneta’s, but with a few IQ points shaved off and a fair share of beers in his system. And it just so happened that he spotted his meal… “WOO-HOO! I’m eatin’ good tonight!”

Soon, Rumi, Mira, and Zoey saw a rush of yellow, white, and blue running towards them, as Rumi asked, “Is that Homer Simpson?!” Yep, it was indeed the famed patriarch of the Simpson family, running around Toronto, rushing towards Bucky! And he picked him up without so much as a care in the world.

“Oh, dear!” exclaimed the poor chicken as he struggled to get loose. “I don’t like where this is going!” And over his protests, Homer darted right out of there for… the nearest KFC! Within seconds, there was a loud chicken scream, much to the horror of HUNTR/X. And right after, out came Homer, a fresh bucket of freshly fried chicken in his hand. 

“Mmmmm, it’s finger lickin’ good…”

The three held their heads in mourning as Rumi said, “Poor little Bucky.”

“Too short for this world.” Mira lamented. 

Tears streamed down Zoey’s face as she said, “And so polite for a headless chicken!”

“Hey, wait a second… what am I doin’ in Toronto?” asked Homer, as he realized that he was as far removed from Springfield as he could be. Then, it clicked inside his own tiny brain, “Oh, right!” He quickly ran towards the nearest Tim Hortons to wash down his bucket o’ Bucky.

“Did he come all the way to Canada just for mediocre coffee?” asked Zoey.

“Nah, there’s probably some wacky B-plot in there about Lisa wanting to fight tariffs or something,” snarked Mira.

Rumi shrugged and sighed, still lamenting the loss of the poor headless chicken, however briefly they’d known each other. “We… probably should get to the hotel before something else happens.” Already, she was rapidly typing on her smartphone to order a private chauffeur to get to the Ritz-Carlton, peeking over her shoulder just in case Homer came back to eat another strange friend they had just met!

It didn’t take long for the limo to arrive. What did take a long time was fighting through the onslaught of traffic, all of which was bound to HUNTR/X’s own concert. And in their rush to get to the hotel, their stomachs were growling the whole way without a single snack! It was sheer torture to all parties, not in the least the driver, having to get them there!

Fortunately, after 45 minutes, they made it. The Ritz-Carlton hotel gleamed in the sun as the limo pulled up… and Rumi, Mira, and Zoey collapsed out of the car, looking half-starved as they landed on the ground in a pile. Poor Zoey cried out in a hoarse voice, “Must… have… food!”

“God, I am starving!” Mira exclaimed as she could barely muster the energy to move.

Sighing heavily, Rumi groaned out, “Note to self, next time we end up taking a long ride, we bring snacks!” All three of them kept moaning in agreement with their predicament, though their hunger turned to frustration as they saw something quite unpleasant standing outside the hotel.

“HUNTR/X tickets! Get your HUNTR/X tickets!” On the corner, there stood a man dressed in a hoodie, a grey beanie, and jeans, holding a massive stack of tickets in his hand. The girls didn’t recognize him personally, but they did recognize his type, as Mira growled out. “A scalper…”

“Urgh, those guys again?!” Rumi shouted in fury, forgetting her own previous hunger. “He’s seriously crossing a line!”

Zoey nodded in agreement as she cracked her knuckles. “Oh, he’s so dead!”

“Scalpers are the worst,” Mira said as she drew out her gok-do. “They almost make demons look nice. Watch, I bet you he’s charging $300 per ticket.”

But sure enough, not realizing the very performers of the concert he was selling tickets to were right across from him, he yelled out like a carnival barker of old, “Only $500 per ticket!” And that little declaration really irked the girls more than anything.

“Ok, that does it,” Rumi said as she drew her sword. “Nobody messes with our fans!”

The look on Zoey’s face could bore through steel.“Ohhhh, I only wish he was a demon! Then, I’d —“

“Wait…” Suddenly, a sense of dread ran down Mira’s spine. “There is a demon nearby!”

Darting her eyes around, Rumi soon saw glowing blue marks on something heading towards them. “Yeah, but… It’s bound to a demon I’m not familiar with. But why does that demon look like —“

“BARNEY?!” shouted Zoey, as the image of the ever-idiotic moronosaurus rex came into view, happily skipping throughout the town as average Canadians and tourists alike fled in panic. And of course, he had no care in the world, thinking this was just another happy day for him.

Naturally ignorant of the chaos he was causing, Barney said, “Oh boy! I’m in Canada now! I can’t believe I’m in the home of Uncle Gnashy!” Once again, whatever thought process led him to believe his Cybertronian “relation” was as Canadian as David Kaye himself was hardly the issue. He was certainly making HUNTR/X’s skin crawl as he waved to them, “Hello, nice ladies! It sure is a super-dee-duper day!”

“Oh god, I think I’m feeling sick,” Rumi said as she found herself trying to avert her gaze from this monstrosity. But she didn’t seem nearly as pissed as Mira, whose veins began to pop with rage. “Mira?”

The dance coordinator was looking outright visceral — a not-so-uncommon reaction to being around Barney the Dinosaur, but far more intensified. Nearby lamp posts began to melt. “THAT. STUPID. DINOSAUR.”

“Something is very wrong,” Zoey said, any sense of her usual bubbly joy sapped from her being. “Why is Barney making me feel… ANGRY?!”

There’s a sucker born every minute, and worse yet, there’s one sucker rebuilt every chapter.  Without so much as a blink, he bounded up to the scalper and proclaimed, “Excuse me, sir! I don’t know why, but I want to buy all your tickets!”

“Hahaha, you came to the right place, my friend!” replied the scalper, rightfully guessing he had an easy mark. “In fact, I’ll sell you the whole roll for… oh, let’s say… $1 million.”

HUNTR/X’s jaws hit the ground harder than their poor private jet that’d been hijacked by demons. One million Canadian dollars had to be at least one billion Korean won!

Of course, Barney seemingly didn’t quite register that the number was well out of his price range, as he just pulled out a cheesy-looking piggy bank from his house. “Will this be enough?”

“Eh… not unless you got a couple million coins in there, pal,” the scalper said all disappointedly. “So, uh… You might wanna move along.” HUNTR/X let out a huge sigh of relief… until Barney pulled out a piece of plastic and said to the scalper, “Maybe you can use Mister Boss Man’s magic card! It has lots of money on it!” The girls couldn’t see it, but somehow, the dino dumbass was carrying Hades’ credit card – a Grecian Express marked with his big ol’ face front and center.

“Well, lucky for you, I have a tap-to-pay machine right here!” exclaimed the scalper, his enthusiasm returning in force.

Already, Barney’s excitement was growing at the prospect of buying the tickets, not realizing he was being had. “Hooray! I’m going to get lots of tickets! That means I can take all my friends to see the show, like Mister Boss Man and his little colorful friends! I think I should sing about it!”

“If he opens his mouth and sings one note…” Mira growled, her gok-do prepared to do a little slicing and dicing. And of course, this being Barney, he did open his mouth and sang a single note.

“Ohhhhhhhhhhhh!” A horrid screech then emerged from the idiot – one that pierced the ears of everyone in town, to the point that entire skyscrapers' worth of glass shattered instantly, dogs whimpered over in pain, and several trees immediately withered and died. To add insult to injury, a multitude of trash cans suddenly grew legs and walked away!

Fortunately, the terror was brief, as Mira’s rage boiled over and she immediately beheaded Barney! Nearby, a pair of wiener dogs transformed into Pain and Panic, who screamed in frustration at the idiot getting himself killed again.

“닥쳐!” [“SHUT UP!”], the dance coordinator screamed.

“Hey, what the hell, lady?!” the scalper, just recovering his senses, exclaimed. “You just screwed me out of a big…” It then clicked just who he was talking to, when he saw the woman who had just slain the dinosaur was in fact the Mira! And with Zoey and Rumi walking towards him as well, alarms began to blare in his head. “Uh… oh, crap.” He ran like hell, dropping the roll of tickets in the process, before the three handed his butt to him on a silver platter.

While the scalper ran off screaming like a baby, Zoey stared down at the once more late Barney’s corpse, saying, “WOW, Mira, you just – “

“No regrets, Zoey,” Mira replied in a serious tone. “No. Regrets.” And to add insult to injury, she jabbed the business end of her weapon into Barney’s eyes, popping it like a balloon as the imps cried from behind the bushes. “God, that stupid dinosaur just… URGH!”

Rumi shrugged her shoulders and replied, “Oh, well. I just wonder who his master was…”

“Well, I can tell you who these tickets’ new masters are!” exclaimed Zoey as she picked up the roll. “US!”

Already, the trio was forming an idea in their brains, as Rumi asked, “We still got a little time to check into the hotel. What do you say we find a few lucky fans to give these to?”

“You know it!” Mira replied in an enthusiastic tone. “Cannot wait to see the looks on their faces when they see these!”

A big old smile returned to Zoey’s face as she spotted a couple of fans walking up past the hotel. “And I think we know just where to start!” 

Well, never let it be said what one won’t eat when one has enough of an appetite. As soon as the girls had handed out the tickets to some very lucky fans and gotten checked in, they’d consumed enough of the buffet table to warrant seconds. And thirds. And fourths. Needless to say, their carb refill went a lot better than expected, as they were now stuffed, satisfied, and with a few hours left before the curtain rose. Now came the most important part of their prep…

“Ohhhh, that hits the spot,” said Mira as the compress of a professional masseuse’s hands caressed her shoulders. With hot stones lined on her back, the prior troubles of earlier had melted away to a blissful state of relaxation. Especially with you-know-who now dead and beheaded. 

Next to her, Zoey had all but fallen asleep as she received the ultimate facial, her snores echoing through the room, though the masseuse kept at her work, albeit slightly amused. Then again, being the youngest between them, Zoey certainly had a fair amount of energy to burn, and one carb-load after hours between meals could knock her out like that. 

Soaking nearby in the tub, however, was Rumi, utterly blissful. Mira could hear the sighs of joy coming and joked with her bandmate, “I think someone’s all too eager to make up for those years of not hitting the bathhouse.” Rumi let out a knowing chuckle in response. All those years of having to hide her demon markings had cost her all too many bathhouse trips with Mira and Zoey, so she was eager to try and make it up. 

“Well, you did insist I go for so long,” she joked back, to Mira’s amusement. “You might say I’ve become a bit obsessed.”

Chuckling, Mira joked back, “Just don’t stay in there too long. We do have a show in a few hours.”

“Wouldn’t miss it,” Rumi replied. “Concerts always take priority. I honestly can’t remember ever missing one. Well, aside from that live performance of ‘Golden’, but that one was on me.” She sighed once more, recounting how her desperation to try and remove her demonic patterns led her to push out their new single, only to nearly lose her voice in the process.

As her shoulder muscles were released from tension, Mira said, “Hey, no one’s perfect. You saw me lose it at seeing Barney.”

“Yeah, I was wondering about that,” replied Rumi. “What exactly happened?”

Sighing, Mira mustered up an uncertain response. “I don’t know… it was like somehow that… that thing just triggered every single nerve in my body at once. I know it irked everyone, sure, but Barney just… I swear, it was just the worst nightmare around.”

“In all honesty, I can’t blame you,” HUNTR/X’s lead singer replied. “I just hope that he doesn’t show up again. But seeing as he apparently died once before…”

It made Mira recount the grizzly spectacle of Barney’s prior death after Beast Megatron’s butchering of the dino dumbass made waves. “Oh god, please tell me we’re not gonna run into him again!”

“I just wish I knew who that demon he was bonded to was,” lamented Rumi. “It clearly wasn’t Gwi-Ma. But those blue markings… who could it be?”

The only thought Mira could muster was, “Somebody incredibly stupid. I mean, who would be dumb enough to use that moron as a minion?” 

“Oh, poor, sweet, utterly blunt, Mira,” responded Deadpool from behind the fourth wall. “You clearly didn’t read that chapter’s stinger. But the less evil James Woods was yucking it up at Villain Con just now with the other baddies, all too happy to show off his shiny new idiot. For now, let’s just give the writing team’s new favorites a little happy moment before things inevitably go to shit.” And sure enough, as Zoey’s own facial was done, a ping came up on her phone and jostled her awake. 

Without skipping a beat, the young rapper immediately pulled her phone out to see what the alert was, slightly tipping the cucumber slice over her eyes to get a good read — and then said slices flew off as Zoey’s eyes cartoonishly bugged out. “OH MY GOSH! GUYS! HANA GOT BACK TO ME!”

“No kidding? That quickly?” Rumi quickly perked up as she leaned over to try and face Zoey. 

Mira, who wasn’t in any position to move, quickly asked, “Well, don’t keep us hanging, Zoey! What did she say?”

“Ok, ok, let me see!” Already her excitement was rising as Zoey soon read the contents of Hana’s message.

“Ahem… Hey, Zoey! Good to finally get in touch! You probably remember our concert together (totally rocked the stage, btw), even though we both didn’t know each other until recently. Weird, right? Anyway, glad you reached out — totally should catch up sometime over some Ramyeon. OW is…” A slight bit of disappointment hit her as she continued. “OW is busy trying to figure out what’s changed…”

Poor Zoey slumped over, hoping that they would get a reunion (or first meeting? Well, technically both) sooner than anticipated. Nevertheless, she kept reading the message. “Winston’s worried that with all these changes, we may not be ready for what comes next, so we’re taking our time to scope out this crazy new world. Talon better not be planning something, and neither should Null Sector or the Gwishin. Plus, the whole us being in the 2020s instead of the 2070s deal’s taking a lot to figure out. But we’ll be ready soon. Good luck! Slay it tonight! Oh, and say hi to Viv for me.”

“Love,”

“Hana ‘D.Va’ Song.”

“Welp, so much for a super cool team up with Overwatch.” Zoey slumped over, her disappointment as plain as day. She’d already mentally prepared for a “no”, but… well, it still stung, even if she understood the reasons.

Still trying to cheer her up, Rumi said, “Hey, it’s ok, Zoey. We still have a lot more people to reach out to, right?”

“You didn’t write up all those notebooks for nothing,” Mira added. “You’ll get one of them eventually. Besides, didn’t Hana say her friend Viv’s here?”

It then clicked to Zoey that she did read such a part in the message — and knew just who she was referring to. “OH, THAT’S RIGHT! She did say Viv was coming to the concert! Ooh! Maybe we can finally meet face to face!”

“She was always talking about the rest of her team,” Rumi commented. “And I do remember she said Viv was based in Toronto.”

Mira recounted those many conversations that Hana had about her teammates in Overwatch, most of all that of a special forces operative from Canada’s military named Vivian Chase – callsign “Sojourn”. “Heh, would be nice to meet another member of the team. Hope Viv’s actually in the mood to attend.”

“Knowing Hana, I bet you she talked her into it,” Zoey replied. “She did want her to see one of our concerts!” 

Speaking of concerts, wonder how it’s going with the final setup?

Further into the city, the Rogers Centre was being prepped to host its biggest concert yet, as thousands of people were lining up to get their place in the stadium early. For everyone here, this was the night of their lives. For the stadium staff, this was just a typical event. Ever since the whole “Red Panda Kaiju” incident that saw what was then called the SkyDome and the Lee family had to pay out for all the damages, the place has practically had the works in terms of renovations. More seating, better concert equipment, and more heavily reinforced structures to ensure it wouldn’t take quite as hard a beating in case of another Kaiju attack.

Of course, that didn’t beguile the fact that the whole stadium had crowds lining out for several blocks. As one Merc With A Mouth happily said, “Hey, we did say K-Pop Demon Hunters was popular. Like, way popular. Why the hell do you think our writing team rewrote all this? These girls stole the hearts of billions. So until we get an actual sequel, this is as close as it’s gonna get… even though it’s a crossover… a very big crossover… based on a story they didn’t even exist in when it started… actually, I’m gonna shut up now.”

And fortunately enough, he did, just in time to make room for a white-haired, black woman, with her hair tied in a dreadlock ponytail, finally getting her seat inside the stadium, snacks in hand and a relaxed look on her face. But boy, did she certainly stand out, as she was considerably taller than nearly all the attendees – and notably, she also had cybernetic body parts, for this was no ordinary Torontonian. This was Vivian Chase herself, but with one slight twist… she was mingling around with people in the very year she was born!

In the decades long after our own, humanity faced a crisis from a threat of their own doing: Omnics. These machines, as seems to be the case in many a story, turned against their masters, forcing humanity to act. That act came in the form of the Overwatch organization, consisting of skilled combatants, scientists, and warriors who used their combined talents to fight the threat of the Omnics. Their initial leadership was helmed by Jack Morrison, an American soldier, his friend and colleague Gabriel Reyes, Egyptian sharpshooter Ana Amari, resident Swiss inventor Torbjorn Lindholm, fierce and proud German warrior Reinhardt Wilhelm, and scientist Dr. Mina Liao, who was responsible for creating the ultimate machine of mimicry, Echo. Thanks to them, the Omnic Wars ended in humanity’s favor, and a golden age began.

Alas, even golden ages must end, and for Overwatch, it ended in tragedy. Reyes grew increasingly jealous of not being made the public face for the organization, and implemented a secret black ops program called Blackwatch to carry out a series of even darker deeds from behind the scenes, leading to clashes between him and Morrison. Gérald Lacroix, a high-ranking member, was assassinated by a terrorist organization known as Talon, who saw their very existence as a threat to their Darwinist philosophy, and kidnapped and brainwashed Gérald’s own wife to accomplish the task. And over the years, it just kept getting worse and worse.

Eventually, Gabriel leaked all their secrets out of spite, and a battle between him and Morrison that resulted in both of their apparent deaths saw the organization forcibly disbanded by the United Nations under the PETRAS act, marking the death knell to heroes that had become shamed and disgraced after having saved the world countless times over. Admittedly, some members thought it was an inevitability; they were soldiers, not peacekeepers, so how could they fix the world when all they knew was to show up where the bad guys were and take them out? 

Well, after all that went pear-shaped, Talon effectively ran the place without mercy, causing untold chaos wherever they went. Then, they made the fatal mistake of trying to kill the rest of the members on their own. 

From there, Winston the Gorilla, a veteran scientist from the Moon enhanced with super-intelligence, took it upon himself to reform Overwatch regardless of the consequences they would face in 2076. And boy, did he succeed.

Jack had survived, but had become an entirely new figure in the form of Soldier 76. Ana, who was believed killed in a prior assassination, took up a new identity as “Pharah” to ensure justice would be carried out. Torbjörn returned to the fight, this time accompanied by his daughter, Brigette, and an Omnic named “Bastion” that had developed a sentience and a care for sentient life. Reinhardt, though initially forced to retire, was all too happy to lend himself to the cause once more. 

Amongst the team’s later recruits who returned, there was Dr. Angela “Mercy” Ziegler of Switzerland, having developed incredible healing technology from her own skills; Cole Cassidy, an old-school cowboy eager to leave the pain of Blackwatch behind him; Lena “Tracer” Oxton, a British pilot in flux with time thanks to an accident, but very quick on the battlefield nonetheless; Echo, the creation of the late Dr. Liao who could mimic her teammates perfectly; Genji Shimada, a cybernetic ninja rescued and rebuilt by Overwatch, Mei-Ling Zhou, a Chinese scientist studying the effects of the damage done to the environment – and of course, Sojourn herself.

Fortunately, others came to the call as well. Lúcio Correia dos Santos, an “audio medic” from Brazil who stood loudly and proudly against government corruption, including the forceful disbanding of Overwatch; Jean Baptitste Augustin, a medic from the Caribbean who used to work for Talon until he grew disgusted with their methods and quit;  Aleksandra "Zarya" Zaryanova, a proud Russian soldier who was personally recruited by Cassidy himself; Hana Song, better known as the legendary MEKA pilot D.Va and a hero to Korea; and most recently, Juno Teo Minh, a native of Mars who specialized in terraforming, sent to Earth to try and figure out what happened when the project was suddenly halted.

These were the heroes swearing to protect the world from threats like Talon and the Omnics, and damn if they were gonna let anyone stop them. Though now they had the slight wrinkle that when things merged, they got yanked backwards in time! 

So here they were, stuck in our present – their past – having to contend with a world in which they’re widely recognized as icons alongside fiction’s other greats, to say nothing of the fact that they now had to tread very carefully not to alter their own history. It seemed almost ironic for Vivian herself, knowing that here, she was at 51 years old, hanging around in Toronto when her present self was only a couple of months old by then. And in all honesty, a lot was weighing on what she knew would happen.

She knew that her younger self, the child of two ex-military veterans, would be diagnosed with a rare autoimmune disorder that would put her in the hospital multiple times as her parents bounced around between various countries searching for someone to help her. As such, she would be denied a normal life, unlike her twin sister, Valentine. Instead, she would find comfort in military strategy and embrace the history of the local cultures from wherever they were staying at the time. Most importantly, Vivian knew that in 2038, she would undergo a procedure to save her life with cybernetics, earning scorn from her peers, but eventually allowing her to join the Canadian Army and turn her into one of the top soldiers in her country. And by 2048, the Omnics would come…

Except Vivian had to remind herself she wasn’t here to worry about what may come, especially since that was chronologically decades from today. Really, the big problem was making sure her tomorrow came, even if things weren’t going to turn out entirely pretty. 

It had been Winston’s goal since their displacement to make sure none of them were adversely affected — or worse still, wiped out of existence. With their stranding in this time further messing with their memories, giving them friendships that they previously didn’t have before with a whole slew of other big names they once regarded as fictional, to say nothing of a suspiciously quiet amount of reports about Talon being active in this time, Overwatch was faced with its biggest challenge yet. So for now, most of its membership was out and about, trying to figure out their new allies and new enemies. And for Vivian, the obvious choice was to head home to her hometown of Toronto, where, days in, she found out she was more acquainted with the new arrivals than she had previously thought.

“Hey! Viv!”

Turning around, the Overwatch operative saw that approaching her was a 36-year-old woman of Chinese descent, dressed in a red outfit, clutching a toddler in her arms as the little thing was fast asleep in spite of all the noise. But Viv recognized her by that distinctive smile and her familiar glasses, not to mention the panda ears on her head! Chuckling in appreciation, Vivian got up and said, “So, you managed to sneak out of the temple again?”

“Oh, not this time,” Mei Lee herself joked back. “Mom’s got that covered, although she was quite insistent that I make sure not to let the baby pick up on my teenage habits.” She quickly broke out in laughter, recounting those wild years when she first awoke her red panda abilities, though that was literally a lifetime ago. Since the merger had occurred in 2025, and her story had taken place all the way back in 2002, Mei was now a lot older, a lot wiser, but certainly no less enthusiastic about attending music events. 

Vivian smiled and replied, “You think she’s worried now, just wait until your kiddo’s old enough to drive.” As the two laughed together, Vivian then said, “Speaking of which, I’m surprised they’re sleeping through all this noise.”

“They got that habit from their father,” Mei replied. “Who’s supposed to have gotten up here with the snacks by now… sigh, he does have a bad habit of getting lost.”

Shrugging her shoulders, Vivian then said, “Don’t worry. I’m sure he’s just bumped into another big-name celebrity and got starstruck. It’s kind of become a habit around here.”

“Oh, so is that why you’re here?” Mei asked. “Had to come out and fangirl at HUNTR/X?”

Shaking her head, Vivian replied, “More like making sure their close personal friend doesn’t give me the stink eye at the next meeting. Hana practically begged me to come to the concert when she found out they were in town. She’s an old friend of theirs, you know. Well, an old new friend.”

“That’s right!” Mei exclaimed. “The big MEKA-Fest they had in Seoul back in ‘22! I still can’t believe D.Va got to perform with them!”

Vivian then said, “Some days, she can’t believe it either. Hell, Overwatch is still trying to figure a lot out these days. But I can't spend all day trying to figure out what’s what, much as we still have our mission. No good strategy’s worth total burnout.”

“Tell me about it,” Mei replied. “It just took being able to turn into a giant, fluffy red panda to figure that out. What’s perfection worth just being able to accept yourself?”

Nodding in agreement, Vivian said, “That’s what we’re fighting for. Yeah, 2076 isn’t perfect by any stretch; god knows the PETRAS act didn’t do us any favors. But it’s one small step at a time. Who knows? Maybe we can make a bigger difference in 2025 than we ever could have in our own timeline.”

“Considering you guys defied some big government law to stand up against the worst of your time, I wouldn’t doubt it!” As Mei enthusiastically grinned, Vivian couldn’t help but appreciate the show of support. This new Toronto had been far more welcoming of her than she anticipated it would be, especially in a time when tensions were… high to say the least. But hey, life was full of surprises. 

Oh, and speaking of surprises, up in the row ahead of Vivian and Mei, a pair of cheaply animated cartoon characters were laughing like total idiots. And unfortunately for the stadium attendees, it wasn’t just any cartoon character…

“Hey, Phillip,” spoke up the brown haired guy in the red shirt, itself marked with a giant “T”. “I know how I can get up on stage.”

The other one, a blonde-haired guy with a blue shirt marked with a big “P”, replied, “How’s that, Terrance?” And his cohort responded… with a big, loud fart. And once more, they started laughing like utter idiots, their mouths moving with such obviously poor animation that it would have stirred Chuck Jones from his grave.

“Don’t be so surprised, true believers,” Deadpool’s voice chimed in again. “This is the most Canadian chapter in this fic, so you can bet your ass we’re throwin’ in the best – and worst – Hogtown has to offer. And since Hitler Junior’s already in this little shindig, we were obliged to include the two dumbasses whose film literally caused a devastating war resulting from moms choosing to blame Canada… shit, did that actually happen in this timeline? I mean, you know, the war with Canada? Seriously, somebody tell me that we didn’t cause the deaths of millions because apparently people suck at keeping their kids out of R-Rated films!”

Well, luckily, that war was able to have everything set back because of Satan (sigh… long story), but it still probably did happen, knowing that South Park had such a big influence on the merged world. Of course, given that per the rules of their universe, every single Canadian looked like Terrance and Phillip, that clearly wasn’t compatible with all the other worlds. Hence, the gas-loving duo stuck out like a sore thumb, as did their antics, and their crudely-drawn, funny-accented compatriots only made up a portion of the Canadian populace. Already, both Vivian and Mei were rolling their eyes at having to see this play out, causing the former to say, “Right… forgot those two were real now.”

“Is it weird that I’m strangely ok with them being here?” Mei innocently asked as she clutched her child closely. “Don’t get me wrong, they are super inappropriate, but… I dunno, it’s kind of endearing?”

Shrugging her shoulders, Vivian replied, “Maybe, but I wouldn’t try bumping them off if they drive you up the wall. Intel reports that if those two get killed, it’ll unleash hell on Earth.” And she looked right in Mei’s eyes with a dead serious look to make it clear she wasn’t kidding. Of course, the duo kept at their antics during the whole conversation.

“Terrance, you got a favorite song?” Phillip asked his cohort.

Terrance replied, “Sure, it’s ‘Golden’.”

“Ooh, that’s a good one,” said Phillip. “How come?” Naturally, Terrance responded with another fart, causing the duo to laugh as their fellow concertgoers behind them rolled their eyes. All they were hoping for was that Terrance and Phillip wouldn’t keep making a literal stink throughout the concert, especially not with Envy Adams due to take the stage soon.

But even those two were much more tolerable compared to the guy who marched right into the stadium, a giant protest sign in hand, reading “HUNTR/X SHOULD QUIT!” And to his absolute chagrin, he could see his most hated enemies seated down for the show, enjoying themselves as usual. “Awrah! Not Terrance and Phillip! I hate those two with a burning passion! As if this stupid concert was already bad enough!”

“Hey, watch out for Scott!” Terrance exclaimed upon recognizing that unpleasant voice. “He’s a dick!” Yep, to every Canadian’s chagrin, there was ol’ Scott the Dick – the most hated man in the country – trespassing before the show was about to start, being… well, a dick about the whole thing. He was animated in the same style as Terrance and Phillip, but his head was shaped much like his name (something about everyone in Canada making him one by calling him one), and radiation poisoning in Ottawa.

Vivian quickly picked up on the situation and got out of her seat to confront this guy. “Hey, buddy. In case you didn’t notice, protests are on the outside. You want me to call security, or do I have to throw you out myself?”

“The real protests are on the inside!” Scott the Dick replied. “Here you all are, wasting your money to watch a bunch of K-Pop artists that are highly overrated at best, and at worst, not worth a cent of your tax dollars! Who gives a damn about actual K-Pop?!” 

Not one sound of sympathy came from those who overheard what Scott had to say, especially Mei’s child, who was stirred from their nap and began to cry. As Mei tried to comfort her kid, Terrance and Phillip both stopped laughing, while Vivian said, “I would say about 55,000 people. At least.”

“Suckers – all suckers, the lot of you!” Scott continued to complain. “There’s only one good musician in this world, and that’s ‘Stompin’’ Tom Connors! Shame on you for spitting on his legacy!” 

Except then, the stadium fell completely silent, as nobody had even heard of “Stompin’ Tom Connors” (granted, he was a real musician, but he’d been dead for 12 years at this point), nor did they seem to particularly care. Really, all Scott was getting was an endless sea of glares, with even a few HUNTR/X fans snapping their signs in half, intending to break the Dick in an equal manner! “There’s an obvious joke in there, Phillip,” said Terrance.

“Oh yeah!” replied his cohort. “CRACKS DICK IN HALF JAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!” And the two of them quickly bellowed out in laughter, with even Vivian, Mei, and Mei’s kid chuckling along with it. Sure, said joke was from that AI Sponge slop, but it was certainly an (in)appropriate joke for the guy! 

Of course, Scott didn’t appreciate that remark in the slightest. “YOUUUUUUUUUUU! I’LL FIX YOU! ALL OF YOU!” 

Not even five seconds later, he was booted out of the stadium – or rather, literally thrown out via a hard chuck from Vivian’s cybernetics, to the point he landed right atop a pile of purple guts being reassembled by Pain and Panic. As the two imps screamed in frustration, Scott the Dick yelled, “YOU’LL RUE THIS DAY! I SWEAR IT! CANADA WILL BE RID OF THIS ABOMINATION ONCE AND FOR ALL – AND TERRANCE AND PHILLIP!”

“Oh, you’re gonna be the one ruing the day, buddy!” Pain said in anger as he cracked his knuckles. “That was six hours of work down the drain!”

Nodding in agreement as he unsheathed his claws, Panic added, “Six. Miserable! HOURS!” 

“Which is how long you’re gonna be sufferin’ for that, pal!” And Pain and Panic quickly jumped Scott as the three devolved into a big, cartoonish ball of violence, determined to get back at the Dick for messing up their Barney rebuilding progress.

Back at the Ritz-Carlton, one of the most epic outfit change montages was underway, as Rumi, Mira, and Zoey were locking and loading – both figuratively and literally – into their stage outfits in preparation for the concert. And there was no room for error; every stitch was checked with a fine-toothed comb to make sure they presented their absolute 100% best for their fans. Of course, the chances of running into demons were equally high, as Bucky and Barney had demonstrated. Preparation was the key to ensuring the difference between the next concert and the last, as Celine had often said.

Celine… the thought of her briefly sent a bit of regret over Rumi’s face as she recounted that advice. All those teachings didn’t change the fact that the last time they spoke, it was a terrible falling out that neither side had attempted to mend since. Months ago, after Rumi’s secret was exposed, Mira and Zoey were too heartbroken to help their friend in her moment of need, and the Honmoon was destroyed to pave the way for Gwi-Ma’s consumption of Korea’s souls, so she turned to Celine. But the one flaw her adoptive mother figure – her teacher – could never accept was that the girl she promised to watch over and protect was partially the very thing she was sworn to destroy. That acceptance could not come, and in her lowest moment, she gave Celine all manner of hell for refusing to even look at her.

Not one word out of her since. No text message, no email, no visit – nothing. There had been days when Rumi was tempted to try and reach out and maybe say something; try to understand why Celine was so insistent she hide this part of herself for all these years. But she couldn’t bring herself to do it. Every time she saw Celine’s name on the contact list, the urge to call her faded the moment she saw Celine’s face look away in shame from the demonic markings. In the end, all Rumi could feel was that if Celine really cared, she’d reach out and apologize herself. 

Soon, she had adjusted her belt as Mira, who was watching as preparations were being made for the concert on TV, said, “Wow, look at Envy getting hyped up.” She pointed towards the singer in question – a redheaded girl wearing a very flattering outfit. “I swear, she’s gotten a lot more energetic.”

“Probably that new spark of passion she got from that whole deal with her ex,” Zoey added as she finished tightening her shoes. “I heard the two of them actually got past the whole awkward breakup phase.”

Rumi shrugged her shoulders and said, “The heart’s a fickle thing sometimes. But hey, it’s good Envy’s keeping them happy.”

“Definitely gonna be a tough act to follow,” joked Mira. “Seriously, I am loving these new musical collabs.” An idea then clicked in her head. “Hey, Zoey. Think any of these guys got some hidden superpowers we could team up with?”

The youngest of HUNTR/X immediately said with a joyful glee, “If only! Although maybe it’s possible they could tap into the Honmoon… at least maybe?”

“I dunno, Zoey,” Rumi said. “I mean, what are the odds of people being able to tap into something that was exclusive to our world anyway?”

Mira bluntly replied, “Heh, can you imagine? Us with some sort of new superpower?” Not that she had much time to fathom that possibility, as their phone rang.

Without hesitation, they quickly answered the call, knowing who it was, as all three said at once, “Hi, Bobby!”

“Hey, there’s my favorite singers!” replied Bobby over the phone. “Hogtown’s going crazy! The whole stadium’s lined up end-to-end with fans! I think this is one of our biggest shows yet!”

As the trio looked on with glee at the news, Rumi asked, “Everything prepped over there, Bobby? We’re just getting ready to head over.”

“Everything’s checked, prepped, and thankfully no obvious signs of you-know-what around,” said the girl’s manager. “But I’m already seeing a few famous faces in the stadium! Man, did this merger really do some good for the fanbase!”

While Zoey squeed in glee, Mira said, “Better make sure we get a chance to say hi, Bobby. Zoey’s getting eager to try and pitch a super-team up. Oh, is the panda girl here?”

“Lemme see… ah, yep! I got eyes on her!” Indeed, she was kind of hard to miss, as the concert’s video cameras were now showing that one of the audience members was a giant red panda, making Zoey’s eyes light up like Christmas. “Boy, is she enthusiastic!”

Rumi chuckled and said, “Make sure to tell her we send our love and thanks for coming out. We’ll be there in five!” Soon, she hung up the phone as the trio left their hotel room and made their way down the hall towards the elevator. “One of our biggest crowds yet… I honestly can’t believe it.”

“I KNOW!” Zoey enthusiastically exclaimed. “It really feels like we’ve hit the jackpot! Eeee! I’m so gonna get a big hug from Mei!”

Mira joked, “You’re so gonna ask her to hang out with us back home, aren’t you?”

“...ok, yes.” Well, no argument out of Zoey there. Not that Derpy would necessarily like the idea, as all three laughed once they got into the elevator car and hit the button for the lobby. “Next stop, Rogers Stadium!”

While the car descended, Rumi let out a smile and said, “And we have plenty of time for our traditional ramyeon!”

“Hell yeah,” Mira replied. “Never go to a concert without it.”

But once the elevator car stopped, the doors opened to… another hotel floor? Ok, not entirely unusual, but there was nobody outside the car waiting for a pickup. Yet there was something equally off, as the button was still flashing for the lobby. “Huh. That’s weird. Did we hit a button to the wrong floor?”

Zoey poked her head out and looked both ways. “Hmmm… It’s definitely not the lobby. Maybe it’s just a glitch! Yeah! Elevators have those once in a while!” She pushed the lobby button again, but when the car stopped, it was on another floor. “Wow, this elevator’s really glitchy!” And she comically kept pushing the button, only to be met with the same results. At this point, she had almost pushed it to the point of breaking, forcing Rumi to grab her hand. 

“Easy, Zoey,” she calmly said. “It’s like you said, it’s probably just a malfunction. We’ll just get out and take the stairs.” As Zoey calmed down, Rumi spotted something very unusual, as the room numbers were marked for the very floor they were staying on! “Wait… this is our floor!”

Mira grumpily said, “Are you kidding? We didn’t even budge? Wow, talk about a bad break.” Sighing heavily, she walked out of the car first and headed towards the stairwell, with Rumi and Zoey in tow. “At least it’s only a few floors down.”

“And we still have enough time to make it to the concert,” Rumi replied. “Besides, one little elevator isn’t going to stop us.” But as she opened the door, it was… the eighth floor again?! “What the… but that’s…”

Zoey finished that sentence off by saying, “Impossible! We went down! I know it, you know it – we all know it!” 

“No… we didn’t go down or up,” said Rumi. “We never even left this floor…” Every instinct in her body was telling her that this was something far worse going on – something she couldn’t quite yet comprehend, but she knew it had something to do with demons. She just wasn’t sure which one.

Soon, Mira said, “Ok, two problems – we got a concert we can’t miss, and we can’t get out. What now?”

“We tried the elevator, we took the stairs…” Zoey tried flipping through notebooks on “Potential Hazards In A Merged Reality” to think of another plausible explanation. “Oh! What if we’re actually still asleep and stuck inside of a simulation? Or maybe we really are in the lobby and somebody managed to slip us a hallucinatory drug that we haven’t trained against yet!”   

But Mira quickly pointed out, “Or maybe it was THAT!” Even the veteran demon hunter was shocked to see this ugly-looking homunculus waltzing right towards them. And boy, do we mean ugly, as it looked like a human head with an oversized nose walking around on disjointed and distorted feet. But that wasn’t even the worst part, as they noticed there were markings on it in markings as tan as human flesh!

“DEMONS!” the three exclaimed as they immediately drew their weapons and cut it down without hesitation. A loud screech then erupted from inside the floor as more of the guests began walking out, finding themselves in an apparently similar position.

“Why can’t I get down?”

“Mommy, I’m hungry!”

“The elevator’s not working!”

“I’m gonna be late!”

“This whole place is cursed!”

Lovely. So here was HUNTR/X, trapped inside the hotel’s eighth floor with no way out, a concert mere moments away from starting up, and hundreds of other guests in the same boat as them. Not even a day into this strange, crazy new reality, and the bad guys were out to get them. Just like Rumi feared. Demon or no, this was well beyond what they normally knew…

With a slight bit of worry in her voice, Mira snarked, “Yep. We should have stayed at Maggie’s.”

“Ok, so we know this thing is a demon,” Rumi said as she huddled everyone up. “We just don’t know which one it is. It’s definitely not bound to Gwi-Ma.”

Zoey then noticed something even more amiss. “Hey… does anyone notice the clocks are stuck too?” She then pointed out towards a clock in the hallway, and every single arm was stuck at the time of 8:18. 

“8:18…” The number sounded familiar to Rumi, as if the knowledge of infinite worlds suddenly came flooding to her at the moment she needed it. And she was recounting a specific instance where a hotel in Tokyo had fallen under a similar problem. “On the eighth floor of a hotel, where no one can get out… guys! I know who it is!”

But before she could speak further, a chorus of horrifically distorted voices called out. “So, you finally figured it out. Your reputation isn’t as exaggerated as they claim.”

“The Eternity Devil…” That Rumi recognized all too well. Amongst the many Demons — or Devils or Cursed Spirits, or whatever they called them — this one stuck out as one of the nastiest, no thanks to its little stunt with holding an entire eighth floor of a hotel hostage, and refusing to release those trapped inside unless it got Chainsaw Man himself. And as a being who represented humanity’s fear of eternity, it was impossible to kill. In fact, everyone was trapped inside its stomach, choosing to hide its heart on another floor, while each injury it got only made it stronger. Hell, it didn’t really have to do anything other than wait, since its victims would eventually starve out once the seemingly infinite food rotted.

However, it made a fatal mistake. Much like Makima herself, the Eternity Devil grossly underestimated Denji’s capabilities. Realizing that Eternity wasn’t above harm, and being able to continuously feed off its blood whenever he injured the beast, Denji spent three days putting it through such pain until Eternity begged him to put it out of its misery. It did come back and try again, but uh… well, that didn’t end well for it either, not in the least because that time, it didn’t have a piece of the Gun Devil inside of it to boost its power.

But now it was back again, this time seemingly restored to its old strength, once again with a hotel floor in its grip. And it chuckled through its many voices, “Indeed. All that is… forever. And it is here that you shall remain.”

“AHEM,” Mira bluntly coughed out. “Sorry, but the words “Demons” and “HUNTR/X” don’t usually go hand in hand, so unless you want the biggest beatdown of your life, I suggest you get the hell out of here and leave these people alone!”

Zoey drew out her shin-kal and added, “Especially because you’re keeping us from our fans!”

“Isn’t that the point?” the eldritch beast chuckled. “No HUNTR/X means no Honmoon… and no Honmoon means I never have to fear your power preventing me from doing as I must. And you’re going to make it happen.”

Rumi, incensed by what the creature was saying, replied, “Have you not been paying attention? We are Demon Hunters. No matter what it takes, we’re making you release this hotel and the people in it!”

“Not unless your 'fans' decide their lives are more valuable than some glitzy pop stars,” Eternity snarled back. “Which is why I say this to all the people trapped: I offer you a contract. Your release for HUNTR/X’s sacrifice. Refuse, and you all die with them in this hotel, never able to escape, consumed… forever…”

Rumi, Mira, and Zoey growled at the ultimatum. Putting innocent people in danger was one thing, but doing it just to hurt them? It didn’t take a genius to know that Eternity wanted a far greater prize than the deaths of the protectors of the Honmoon; it wanted something bigger – and only their deaths would ensure it. And at the moment, they were getting stares from the other hotel guests trapped with them. Which made them wonder… would these people sacrifice them for their own freedom? Is this new world far more heartless than they had once thought?

To Be Continued..

Chapter Text

“Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to the Rogers Centre!” spoke a voice over the loudspeaker at the stadium. “Tonight marks a historic occasion, as Toronto celebrates the arrival of K-Pop’s hottest singers and demon hunters, HUNTR/X!” As cheers erupted from the crowd, the announcer then said, “But before we begin, we’d like to take the time to acknowledge the Wendat Nation, who once lived in these lands.”

Nearby, as Pain and Panic were continuing to beat the stuffing out of Scott the Dick, the broadcast from the stadium was being aired all over the city, causing him to shoot his mouth off once more. “WHAT?! First, they have to bring those degenerates into our nature, and then they have to mention those POLAR G**KS?!”

“Wow,” a stunned Panic said. “Guy, like… WHAT THE HECK?!”

Pain said in annoyance, “We’re evil, but we’re not that evil!”

“In that case…” Panic squeezed Scott into a football, and Panic turned into a goalpost before his cohort kicked the Dick through. “IT’S GOOD!”

Pain turned back to normal before he shouted, “AND STAY OUT, YOU JERK!”

“MY NAME IS SCOTT THE DIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIICK!” With a twinkle in the sky that could have put Team Rocket to shame, he flew off towards the horizon, as the imps got back to fixing Barney. Meanwhile, the concert got underway, no Dick in sight.

The announcer said, “Now, put your hands together for our opening act! Live on stage, it’s time… for Toronto to drown in… the sweet sounds of… Envy… ADAMS!” Within seconds, the hard-rocking tones of one of Canada’s most popular singers echoed throughout the Toronto region, all parties completely unaware of the predicament HUNTR/X was facing. Boy, would that have made poor Bobby nervous if he knew.

Well, Scott certainly would find out! Panic’s kick sent him flying, all the way to the Ritz Carlton, where he smashed his way through the wall to the surprise of the girls and the Eternity Devil. True, nobody could get out while the beast was in charge, but everybody could get in if they so chose. “Oh, look. Another guest to help seal your fate. How wonderful.” Unfortunately, Eternity didn’t realize that said guest was probably the last guy to make a case for anything, as Scott got up and saw HUNTR/X standing there, weapons drawn just in case they had to fight the crowd. 

“Uh… who’s this guy?” Zoey innocently asked, as Scott glared at them with intense anger. 

Seeing this guy snorting like he was some sort of bull in a rodeo, Mira snarked, “Probably broke out of his pen and got lost.”

“YOUUUUUUUUU!” Scott shouted in anger. “YOU DEGENERATES! Bringing your tainted ways into our great nation!”

Rumi sighed heavily, knowing full well that she anticipated at least one kind of person like this. But this guy was just being… well, a dick for no good reason! “Can you please save this for later? This is kind of an emergency!”

“So, trying to make it about you, eh?!” the Dick shouted back. “Well, I’ll fix you! Watch! I’ll have you evicted from this hotel and force you back home, so you never bother Canada again!” And he stomped his way towards the elevator, not realizing what was in store. Once the doors opened and he saw he was still on the same floor, he tried again. And again. And again.

Mira facepalmed and grabbed him out of the elevator, shouting, “Hey, idiot! We can’t leave! The demon apparently makes things go on forever, so none of us can get out!”

“WHAT?!” His anger breaking into a nervous sweat, Scott’s cowardice became all the more apparent as the Eternity Devil broke out into laughter. 

With almost a hint of gloating in its voice, Eternity said, “Someone’s in a bad mood. But your mood is about to get even worse… unless you sacrifice HUNTR/X to me.”

“But the Honmoon…” already Zoey was worried about the prospect of having to hurt innocent people. Sure, they’ve killed plenty of demons, but never flesh-and-blood humans. And still being the youngest of the trio at 22, that was something she definitely needed on her conscience. 

In a desperate plea, Rumi felt that there was only one shot at stopping this. “Everyone, listen! I get you’re scared right now — and you have every right to be — but that’s what this thing wants. It wants you to be afraid of it. I’m not saying this to beg for our lives, but as a fact! Demons… they feed on fear. The more you show that fear, the stronger it gets. Sacrificing us won’t stop that monster. If anything, it will just make it bold enough to keep trying again. And again. And again. Until there’s nothing left to stop it.”

“We don’t want you trapped in here with that thing,” Mira added. “But we don’t want you to sacrifice your souls in the process. That thing gets what it wants, and it gets worse, you’ll have that on you for the rest of your lives.”

Nodding vigorously, Zoey then said, “You can’t trust it! It won’t keep its word!” 

“You really are naive, child,” Eternity said. “A contract is unbreakable. I take you, they walk away. No Chainsaw Man is committing endless pain upon me. No impossible financial loopholes. Just the end of your effort to stop a new age.”

Some of the crowd hesitated. Getting out was one thing, but there was also the point made by the girls earlier about actually being responsible for making that thing more powerful. Unsurprisingly, the only one who didn’t care was Scott the Dick, who shouted, “Why are you even considering it? Of course, we should sacrifice them! My life is a lot more important than those three — and I’m the Canadian one around here!” But all that seemed to do was just make all the hotel guests groan at the idea, as if the fact that he suggested it so selfishly put them off from following suit.

“Guess that’s your answer, babo,” Rumi smugly replied. “No one is getting sacrificed today.”

Instead, Eternity chuckled. “You underestimate your importance. In time, one of them will give. That is the weakness of humans… They have no care for anyone but themselves. They are a weak, pathetic species, worthy of rule. It is the right of Devils to force them to bend to our whims… to be consumed… forever… forever…”

“And you’re underestimating us,” Zoey boasted as she held out her shin-kal. “In fact, I’d say we start the show right here, girls!” As the other two members of the band nodded in agreement, little did they know that behind them, a certain Merc With A Mouth was walking in, doing stretches, surprisingly beyond notice.

“Oh, what, you thought we were gonna have a Canadian chapter without the most Canadian guy ever?” he asked in a serious tone. “Just to make sure we’re clear, I ain’t interferin’ in the devil killin’... mostly. But I won’t interfere in everyone’s favorite song since I know that’s gonna get me cancelled for messing with Netflix’s biggest cash cow. Besides, I’m more what you’d call a backup dancer in this chapter…” He unsheathed his swords as a familiar tune kicked in, and the girls broke out into song. 

“Ugh, you came at a bad time!”

“But you just crossed the line!”

“You wanna get wild?”

“Okay, I'll show you wild!”

With their weapons drawn and their gaze fixated upon the distorted mass of flesh showing around them, the golden blue glow of the Honmoon ran underneath the girls as Rumi led off.

“Better come right, better luck tryin', gettin' to our level!”

“'Cause you might die, never the time, tryna start a battle!”

Mira was up next, slicing at the Eternity’s Devil’s mass with the force of a thousand suns as the beast screamed out in pain and whacking it with a coffee pot to the beat.

“Bleeding isn't in my blood, ppyeosokbuteo dallaseo!”

“Beating you is what I do, do, do, yeah!”

Completely oblivious to Deadpool shooting off his guns behind her, Zoey let out a hard rap as she threw her shin-kai right into an onslaught of demons.

“Body on body, I'm naughty, not even sorry!”

“And when you pull up, I'll pull up!”

“A little late to the party (La-la-la-la)!”

“Locked and loaded, I was born for this!”

“There ain't no point in avoiding it!”

“Annoyed? A bit!”

“Bureul bichwo da bikyeo ne apgireul ppaetgyеo!”

"It's useless, HUNTR/X!” cried out the foul beast. “Oww! My heart is not heeere! You can't kill meeee! It hurts! Ahhh!" But his pleas fell on deaf ears, as he found that the Honmoon was stinging a lot more than he thought, while all three of them kept at their song.

“Knocking you out like a lullaby!”

“Hear that sound ringing in your mind!”

“Bettеr sit down for the show,”

“'Cause I'm gonna show you how it's done, done, done!”

With the beats being laid down, Deadpool took the opportunity to gloat as he drove his swords into Eternity’s flesh. “I cut you up, and you bleed! You fuck me up, I just fuck you up harder! I'm a fucking perpetual motion machine!”

“(Hey) HUNTR/X don't miss!”

“How it's done, done, done!”

“(Hey) HUNTR/X don't quit!”

“How it's done, done, done!”

“STOP THIS!” shouted Scott the Dick in vain as he saw Eternity’s flesh was beginning to boil. “DO YOU HAVE ANY IDEA WHAT KIND OF TRASH YOU’RE TAINTING OUR GREAT – OW!” He took a shot from Deadpool’s pistols to the kneecaps, as the Merc With a Mouth glared at him, flipped him the bird, then went back to slicing and dicing while HUNTR/X harmonized a hole right through the monster.

“Run, run, we run the town!”

“Whole world playin' our sound!”

“Turnin' up, it's goin' down!”

“HUNTR/X show this, how it's done, done, done!”

“STOP THIS!” cried out Eternity. “THE HONMOON! IT… HURTS!” It was only just then that the Devil realized he’d grossly underestimated the trio – and they knew it too, as they’d cut enough through him that a crack between it and reality began to show! Their way out! Already, they rushed through to the exit as the Honmoon continued to engulf it.

“Yeah, something about when you come for the crown!”

“That's so humbling, huh?”

“Gapjagi wae geurae? Meonjeo geondeuryeo, wae?”

“Ijeya pogihae, what?”

“Nothing to us, run up, you're done up, we come up,”

“From sunup to sundown, so come out to play!”

“Won either way, we're one in a million!”

“We kill 'em, like, really? You want it? Okay!”

As Eternity continued to scream in misery, the Honmoon began to spread outside the hotel to where Barney, having finally been reassembled, was feeling the effects of the Honmoon as it touched him, causing his very body to swell up like a balloon. “AAAAH! HELP ME, MISTER BOSS MAN! THIS MUSIC IS HURTING –” Except he popped just as quickly. Normally, Pain and Panic would scream in frustration, but the Honmoon trapped them beneath it, too!

“Uh, hello? Boss? Hades?” Pain looked around beneath the barrier, but could neither see nor hear if his boss paid attention to his pleas. “Hades? Please…?”

Panic began to panic at this notion. “Oh, no! We – we might be stuck down here forever!” And both imps screamed in utter terror at the notion, watching helplessly as the original                   Starwalker happily bopped along to the music above the Honmoon! Not that anyone else, as HUNTR/X was still in the midst of their song, with Rumi leading out into one of the most iconic and quotable stanzas of their hit.

“Heels, nails, blade, mascara!”

“Fit check for my napalm era!”

“Need to beat my face, make it cute and savage!”

“Mirror, mirror on my phone, who's the baddest? (Us, hello?)”

Eventually, it proved too much – Eternity was carved into ribbons as the Honmoon fully engulfed it, sending it plummeting back below the barrier between the real world and the hell it crawled out of. And luckily for the girls (and Deadpool), it made for one hell of a springboard as the beast, desperately trying to prevent its fate, launched all four of them into the air towards the Rogers Centre, though it kept reaching out and forced the quartet to keep slicing it up to make sure it didn’t take them with it!

“Knocking you out like a lullaby!”

“Hear that sound ringing in your mind!”

“Better sit down for the show!”

“'Cause I'm gonna show you (I'm gonna show you)!”

“(I'm gonna show you!)”

“How it's done, done, done!”

And wouldn’t you know it, the spreading Honmoon had sent Eternity packing. The danger was over, and the Ritz-Carlton was freed! And thanks to all that momentum (plus experience with jumping out of a plane), they were able to literally skyrocket all the way across town and jet to the stage, where Envy Adams had finished her set and allowed the announcer to proclaim, “Ladies and gentlemen, the moment you’ve all been waiting for! Please welcome to the stage the one! The only! HUNTR…../IIIIIIIIIIIIIIXXXXXXXX! And… Deadpool?!” It was only just before they hit the ground that they finally saw the Merc With a Mouth cheekily waving, but they just shrugged it off and took to the ground before continuing their set, as Mira led off this time.

“I don't talk, but I bite, full of venom (Uh)!”

“Spittin' facts, you know that's,”

“How it's done, done, done!”

The crowds went into an uproar, and Mei transformed into her giant red panda form as Zoey delved into a hard rap.

“Okay, like, I know I ramble!”

“But when shootin' my words, I go Rambo!”

“Took blood, sweat, and tears, to look natural (Uh)!”

“That's how it's done, done, done!”

Now it was Rumi’s turn, as her angelic voice echoed into the stadium, and the fans clapped along, all while Wade just delved into that same silly dance he did when slaughtering TVA agents sent to chase after him.

“Hear our voice unwavering!”

“'Til our song defeats the night!”

“Makin' fear afraid to breathe!”

“'Til the dark meets the light!”

“(How it's done, done, done)!”

“Run, run, we run the town (Done, done, done)!”

“Whole world playin' our sound (Done, done, done)!”

“Turnin' up, it's going down (Done, done, done)!”

“HUNTR/X, show this how it's done, done, done!”

“We hunt you down, down, down (Down)!”

“(Done, done, done)!”

“We got you now, now, now (Got you now)!”

“(Done, done, done)!”

“We show you how, how, how (Show you how)!”

“HUNTR/X, don't miss, how it's done, done, done!”

Fireworks shot off on stage, the crowds erupted into a wild cheer, and spotlights shone on the girls as they smiled, looking out at the hotel they’d just freed, as the patrons there cheered in glee over their own freedom. Well, all except Scott, who just complained once again. “Hmph! Lousy K-Pop group! I’d rather be stuck here forever than have to listen to their – OW!” A little girl then kicked him in the open wound Wade had left, having grown tired of his shit. 

“GIVE IT UP FOR HUNTR/X!” the stadium announcer shouted as the crowds began chanting, “HUNTR/X! HUNTR/X! HUNTR/X!” repeatedly. The three of them just smiled brightly, then Mira shouted at the top of her lungs, “WE LOVE TORONTO!” More cheers erupted at the praise – though it still didn’t change the fact that they were standing next to fucking Deadpool.

Dusting off his hands, the Merc With A Mouth said, “WOOOH! Hell of a takedown, amiright! Anyhoo, I’m starved; killing assholes tends to make me crave chimichangas… which is actually all the time, so uh… see you in a few chapters!” He moonwalked off the stage, much to the confusion of the three, who simply shrugged it off and kept waving at the crowds. This was indeed the new world, and they’d just had a taste of what it had to offer. Not the most pleasant first outing, sure, but they survived. And if they could survive that, who knows what else they could face together?

Several hours later, and many more songs, the concert had wrapped up as the girls went outside for a long-overdue rest, and took to some nearby crates to stretch out and relax near the loading dock. “We. Rocked this place!” Mira exclaimed as she stretched out and guzzled down two bottles of water in a row. “I am seriously going to come back here more often.”

“You know, for getting stuck in a hotel and having to face the living embodiment of humanity’s fears of eternity, we didn’t do too shabby!” said Zoey. “The Honmoon’s protecting this place now, we got rid of that ugly slimeball, our fans were beyond happy, and we kicked some serious butt!”

Chuckling, Rumi said, “Maybe being in this merged world won’t be quite as worrisome as I thought. At least we know we can make a difference – and we got all those people out of the hotel.”

“Yeah, but what the hell was with Deadpool showing up?” Mira bluntly asked as she downed another water. “I get he’s Canadian, but it feels like he just popped up out of nowhere!”

Zoey shrugged her shoulders and sighed. “He does that. It’s kind of his whole thing.”

“At least he’s a fan,” Rumi replied. “I mean, I think he’s a fan. Is he?”

Mira said, “Who knows? At least he didn’t try throwing us to that thing like that Scott the Dick guy. What a… well, you know.”

“Hey, I’ll take it,” said Rumi as she laughed. “Still, it was kind of funny how he backed us up. I wonder what he meant by “the next chapter though…” Not that she had much time to think about it, as the door opened up, and out came a familiar face that caused all three girls to say, “Hi, Bobby!”

With an equally big smile on his own face, the trio’s manager said, “Girls, you were great out there! Everyone in the whole stadium was enthralled! And the thing you did at the hotel is already making headlines!” He pulled out his smartphone and showed social media discussing how they’d freed the Ritz-Carlton from the Eternity Devil, to his utter pride. “You took Toronto by storm and saved it all in one night!”

“Nothing we haven’t done before!” Zoey said as her teeth sparkled from her big old smile. “It’s pretty much both of our jobs in one!”

Rumi then asked, “Speaking of which, did the hotel clear our payments through?”

“All taken care of,” Bobby replied happily as he showed them the cleared checks. “The Ritz-Carlton was practically jumping for joy when they heard you’d be willing to cover the damages!”

Mira shrugged and said, “I mean, that ugly thing was there because of us, so we couldn’t just leave the place looking like a mess.”

“It’s worth it,” added Rumi. “One less demon means a lot less people we have to worry about getting hurt.”

Grinning with glee, Bobby said, “That’s my Rumi! Oh, speaking of which, there’s some certain people waiting inside just to meet you – that is, if you don’t mind!”

“Is it who I think it is?!” Already, Zoey’s own prospects of meeting one of her idols had shot her straight up from her resting place as she held her arms in anticipation. Naturally, Rumi and Mira didn’t want to disappoint, so they nodded as Bobby opened the door, and out stepped Mei herself, her child in hand, causing Zoey to squee with glee.

Waving with somewhat of a nervous stride, Mei’s own enthusiasm was no less apparent as she said, “H – hi! I uh… I hope I’m not… uh, you know…”

“Come on!” Mira said as she waved Mei to come over. “You wanted to see us, right? No sense in hiding in the door!” Nervous fans were a dime a dozen in K-pop, so it was no trouble to help ease her in. 36 years old, she may be, but she was still no less than that same teenager who idolized the biggest singers around. And of course, that nervousness also meant that she poofed right into her red panda form, to Zoey’s utter delight and to the enthusiasm of Mei’s child. 

Keeping a close eye on Zoey, just in case she decided to run off and hug their visitor, Rumi walked up and said, “The famous Mei herself! You have no idea how long we’ve been wanting to meet you.”

“M-m-m-m-m-me?” the red panda nervously replied. “Oh, well, I…” Her face lit up in cartoonish glee as she squeed out loud, causing her enthusiasm to echo throughout the parking lot. In the midst of her excitement, she grabbed all three girls and embraced them in a big old panda hug. “YOU HAVE NO IDEA HOW MUCH THAT MEANS TO ME! THANKYOUTHANKYOUTHANKYOU!” A tight squeeze, to be sure, but at least Zoey was happy.

From out of the door frame, the chuckles of Sojourn herself could be heard as she said, “Ease up, soldier. Don’t wanna make ‘em late for the next show. Next thing you know, you’ll be takin’ 'em home with you!” As Mei let the three go, Mira recognized the Overwatch operative from what Hana had told them.

“Sweet! Sojourn’s a fan too!” Mira exclaimed as she walked up to greet her. “Girl, gotta say, Hana’s always gushing about how badass you are in battle.”

Chuckling, Vivian replied, “She’s got a good head on her shoulders. But she ain’t too shabby herself – and neither are you. I can see why she’s hyped you up nonstop since that big concert you did.”

“If anything, she’s talked about you all just as much,” said Rumi. “It’s kind of cool, really… us and Overwatch in the same universe now.”

Sojourn smiled and said, “After what you just did, yeah. It’s pretty cool. But uh… how’d Deadpool get involved in all that?” 

“I’m still trying to figure that out…” Rumi said as she shrugged her shoulders. But hey, it at least made for a good laugh.

And speaking of laughs, Terrance and Phillip walked out next, though both Mei and Vivian were a bit nervous about those two pulling off their gastrointestinal antics in front of the trio. Still, Rumi was polite enough that she saw them and asked, “Oh! And you two are?”

Terrance said, “Merely Canada’s biggest fans!” 

“And to show our support, we bought something special for you!” Phillip added as he pulled out a box of some kind. One could see Mei’s own eyes suspiciously dart towards the box, thinking that once Rumi opened it, it was going to make some kind of farting noise. Perhaps sensing this, and not knowing who those two were, Rumi slowly opened the box… and smelled something piping hot and fresh!

Soon, the box opened to reveal a whole slew of Timbits! All three members of HUNTR/X quickly looked at the delicious donut holes with such glee that they didn’t hesitate to devour them in no time flat. “Mmmmm, Timbits…” Zoey said in her best Homer Simpson impression.

“So good!” Mira said as she stuffed her face full of them. “Mmm, light and fluffy all around! I love this!”

Rumi devoured a dozen full before saying, “This is great! Thank you! Terrance, Phillip, you’re sweet!”

“Super sweet,” Mira added, stuffing her face.

“Anything for sticking it to Scott the Dick!” said Terrance.

And Phillip, of course, said, “Watch out for him! He’s a dick, you know!” Everyone there burst out into laughter, recounting Scott’s unpleasantness (and likely over the fact that he was probably being treated in the hospital for his injuries). A fun end to a fun night, if ever there was one!

Except there was just one slight hiccup…

“Huh?” All the parties present were getting alerts on their phones, with Rumi taking notice first. “What’s this?” But when she pulled it open, she saw something utterly terrible…

On the screen, a woman with black hair and wearing a purple suit, spoke in the voice of Dana Delany, accompanied by the logo of a familiar globe – Lois Lane herself. “And this is only the first of many attacks carried out against the beloved children’s property, as Makima – “

April O’Neill’s familiar jumpsuit showed up on another report, this time live from New York itself. “Questions are being raised as to how this attack was not anticipated, given growing sentiment against – “

A third feed was showing some shaggy-looking News Dude named Cody Johnston, looking plain exhausted. “Ok… seriously, what in the actual FUCK is wrong with people?! You spend one minute in a goddamn fanfic, and you go for the low-hanging fruit in trying to fuck over kids shows! Like, WOW, you supervillains “totally” have your priorities straight. Anyhow, here’s some news–”

But the fourth feed was a disturbing one – that of FOX News itself, as a hood-clad Sean Hannity was boasting, “Lo, the radical woke Muppets of Sesame Street still live, my brethren. The villains have failed in their endeavors, no doubt because they hated the Lord Trump and all He stood for. If we had been the ones to end their reign –”

Even more disturbing was the opposite network CNN’s report, as there was a Warmbo who bore a striking resemblance to Anderson Cooper on there. “What happened on Sesame Stweet was vewy bad, but you have to wemembew dat dey wefused to pway nice with da Wepubwicans! This nevew wouwd have happened if you aww voted fow Wawmbo Hawwis! DIS NEAW MISS IS ON AWW OF YOU, AMEWICA! NOW MISTEW TWUMP WIWW SEND DEM TO DA DEATH CAMPS!”

Every social media and news feed was ablaze with the report. Headlines and hashtags alike were deeming it “The Sesame Sieges”, and both sides were either rushing to condemn or support the attacks in whatever way they could think of. And nobody was missing out on the news, including the parties present in Toronto. Zoey silently said, “Oh my goodness… those… those poor Muppets!”

“Those absolute freaking monsters!” Mira growled. “Attacking a kids' show that can’t fight back! Urrrrrgh! That’s just – “

Rumi interrupted by shouting, “GWI-MA WAS THERE?!” And there it was: footage of the Demon King preparing to unleash his hordes upon the poor muppets. And Xanatos was standing in his way, getting him to stand down.

“Wait, XANATOS was there too?” Zoey quickly recognized the supervillain and his Steel Clan, though she was even more confused about why he was stopping their worst enemy. Almost as if he knew him… “We… we gotta get over to New York!”

Mira turned around towards Bobby and said, “Bobby, what’s the next show?”

“Hold on, let me double check…” Bobby pulled out his schedule and tried to decipher it. “Uh… looks like it’s in Dallas! About 2 days from now!”

Rumi momentarily hesitated. Putting off a concert, let alone cancelling one, was almost unheard of in their history. For their fans – and for the Honmoon – they had to be there no matter what. But this attack… the fact that Gwi-Ma was there, let alone six others, meant they had to change plans. Especially if someone dared to try again. 

“We need to get to New York.”

Bobby almost said something, as if he needed to remind them that they still had to rest up for Dallas. But he knew his girls. Hell, he trusted them beyond anything; in the whole time he’s been managing them, never once did they put their own needs over someone else’s. The occasional infighting, sure, but that wasn’t entirely unexpected given that even close friends snipe at each other. Yet the fact that they were willing to drop everything to go to one little corner of the world in need convinced him to keep quiet. Instead, he focused his energy on calling Toronto International to get their private plane ready for the girls. 

Rumi, Mira, and Zoey quickly turned to the others as the former said, “Please, whatever happens next, watch out for each other.”

“Wait!” exclaimed Mei. “Where are you going?”

Mira replied, “Where else? Sesame Street!”

“It was nice meeting you all!” said Zoey as the three walked back into the stadium to grab their gear – all while Terrance and Phillip had gone deafly silent, and poor Mei was trying to comfort her crying child, having had to witness that awful spectacle. 

But Vivian had something else in mind, as she pulled out her communicator. “Winston, it’s Sojourn. I assume you know why I’m calling.”

“I’m afraid so, my friend,” a husky, Cripsin Freeman voice replied on the other line. “The entire world is witnessing this in real time. I’ve already reached out to the others; they should be on their way back to the rendezvous.”

Nodding in affirmation, Sojourn said, “Copy. Whatever you have in mind, we’re gonna need to come up with it fast. Something tells me that this fight’s just getting started…”

“Hello?! Hello?! Boss?! Megatron?! Anyone?!” 

Nothing. Just pure silence all around them. Pain groaned as he realized the awful truth. “I don’t think anyone’s coming…”

“Do you… gulp, even think that Hades knows we’re missing?” Panic asked in a defeated tone.

All Pain could say was, “I doubt it. Remember what happened in Dreamlight Valley when he went to war with his ex?”

“Didn’t even notice we were gone…” groaned Panic. “I mean, assuming we don’t get into the Hercules update in the summer…”

Pain shrugged his shoulders and said, “I doubt it. We haven’t had any good game appearances since Kingdom Hearts II – and we didn’t even get to say a word in that one!”

“Well, we certainly got lyrics,” the teal imp said. “Seriously, who were those chicks with the magic barrier?”

Pain replied, “Dunno! But I’d sure like to give ‘em a piece of my mind!”

“If we can even get out,” groaned Panic again. “I can’t even move!”

Gulping, Pain said, “You don’t think… they got that stupid dinosaur down here too, do you?”

“Oh man!” Panic replied. “If the boss finds out we lost Barney, it’s gonna be in our heads!”

Sighing heavily, Pain then said, “Welp, I guess the one benefit of bein’ stuck down here is that we don’t have to face the wrath of the boss…” Of course, his tempting fate saw a giant paw dig through the Honmoon, scaring the imps as they were grabbed by three giant dog heads!

“CERBERUS!” the two exclaimed in joy! At least until they realized just who sent him… “CERBERUS?!” Yep. The giant, three-headed mutt – the same dog they begged for and neglected to the point Hades had to call them out on it – had  dug his way through the barrier and grabbed the imps via the same logic that kept Derpy and Sussie from being sent back to the demon realm. And Cerberus was not happy. Growling with such ferocity, he ran at lightning speeds, Pain and Panic in his mouths, back towards home. 

The two imps were rattled around, desperately trying to avoid being torn to shreds by the dog, as Cerberus eventually reached the gates and landed in front of Hades’ throne, where the not-so-happy Lord of the Dead was impatiently waiting, Beast Megatron and a pile of purple guts next to him. The three-headed behemoth dropped the duo flat on their rears, as Hades bellowed, “Well? You wanna explain THIS?!”

Pain and Panic looked nervously at one another, trying to muster something to say. A thousand excuses flew through their head, each of them likely to get a roasting from Hades. Fortunately, there was a thousandth and one option: beg like cowards. “WE’RE SORRY, LORD HADES!” they screamed as they got on the ground and started crying, turning into earthworms. “WE ARE WORMS! WE ARE WORTHLESS WORMS!”

“Oy, this again…” said Hades as he facepalmed, much to his cohort’s annoyance.

Beast Megatron then said, “Are you certain this is necessary?”

“Trust me, Barney torment time’s kind of a thing around here,” replied the Lord of the Dead. “And these two yutzes LET ‘EM FALL APART! WELL?! YOU GONNA TELL ME WHY HE’S DEAD, AND CERBERUS HAD TA DIG YOU OUT OF SOME BLUE SHIELD OR WHAZZIT?!” 

The two imps stopped groveling, as Pain finally mustered up the courage to say, “Well, uh… Lord Hades… you uh… You might not believe me…”

Chapter Text

Classified airspace. Strategic Homeland Intervention, Enforcement, and Logistics Division Helicarrier.

Deadpool’s voice opened up the scene as Ryan Reynolds’ familiar tones said, “Oh? You thought we were just gonna jump right into our new leads visiting MuppetVille? Hehe, dear viewers, this is version 3.0! Obviously, we’re gonna throw in some spicier shit to really amp up this story! And it all starts here.” He stood in front of a still of the massive Hellicarrier belonging to S.H.I.E.L.D. “One giant VFX budget eater, courtesy of Industrial Light and Magic… in your head. Because obviously this is a non-profit project and we sure as fuck can’t actually make this thing into a real movie/series/game without a fuckton of copyright permissions we’ll never get.”

“Anyhoo, let’s get to the downlow of all this. See, after we got our butts exiled from Bureaucracy Tropes and had to start rewritin’ this sucker chapter by chapter, one thing we also expanded upon on the side was a series of side convos the writers put together to give them something fun to do when they weren’t feelin’ in the creative mood. Now, you already know about the Steam Locomotive Stan and the Canadian Cosplayer, but the most prominent guy who was usually in charge of havin’ everyone yack it up off to the sides was the guy who wrote a page for… Doopliss.”

Uh… who’s Doopliss?

“Seriously?” An annoyed Wade asked. “You never picked up a copy of Paper Mario: The Thousand-Year Door? Wow, somebody never asked for a GameCube. Or a Switch, apparently. Anyhoo, the guy in question is called AK47Productions, and the little transformin’ ghost sheet who once turned people into pigs for shits and giggles just so happened to be one of his favorites, hence he became heavily invested in this fic for… well, that’d be a big spoiler for down the line. What I will say is that he went all out with a lot of heavy rewrites for various chapters (again, no spoilers) to see fit that their lore wound up in this little number. And at one point, the mention of S.H.I.E.L.D. came up in his ideas, and…”

“SEVEN SUPERVILLAINS! Does anyone mind explaining how SEVEN SUPERVILLAINS MANAGED TO ATTACK A SINGLE STREET IN ONE DAY, WITHOUT ANYONE NOTICING?!”

There were few people in this world that anyone wanted to get mad, especially when they happened to have a slew of power at their disposal. And amongst those few people, one of them happened to be named Nicholas J. Fury: Director of S.H.I.E.L.D.

What’s there to say about the most paranoid man on the planet, who also happened to be in charge of the biggest intelligence agency out there? Many things, typically: a World War II veteran with rapidly slowed aging, he who once led the Howling Commandos and fought alongside Captain America himself, the man who helped to spearhead The Avengers Initiative, and someone who looked like the spitting image of Samuel L. Jackson himself. 

At this moment, however, he was pissed. Really pissed. 

On many an Earth — 616, 1610, 199999, and others like it — there was one group making sure that threats died out before they happened, and that was S.H.I.E.L.D. It was their job to crawl into the viper’s nests and cut off the heads of the snakes in ways the big-name superhero communities couldn’t. Intelligence was the name of the game, and frankly, if it boiled down to hard calls against risking humanity, it was the hard calls that came from men like Fury. No matter how ugly they got, it at least bought the world another day. Unless, of course, it was an Avengers-level threat, in which case things had gotten too out of hand even for them. 

Yet through all they’ve been through, including every rise and fall, every scandal, every time one of their members crossed a line, they still stood tall. And in the merged reality of Earth-10224, that was no less true. 

So why in the hell did the Sesame Sieges occur on their watch?

It seems that the two people he was asking that very question to — his right hand, Maria Hill, and his best agent, Phil Coulson — couldn’t quite muster up an answer that would satisfy Fury. The two of them had been working with him long enough to know that anything they said right now could come across as an excuse, and the last thing he wanted to hear was excuses.

Coulson kept his cool and told his boss, “There’s nothing else to say, sir; we got blindsided. Plain and simple.” Of course, the truth of it was far more complicated. Right now, S.H.I.E.L.D. was stretched to its limits. The one problem about all realities merging into one, theirs included, meant that every agent they had was now in the process of trying to figure out just what was out there. And with their resources stretched thin as they were, and in such a short time span, something was bound to slip through the cracks in their security. Unfortunately for them, it happened to be the world’s most popular children’s show…

“With respect, sir,” Maria Hill said, trying carefully to avoid sounding like she was making excuses too, “In what right mind would supervillains think it was a smart idea to attack a preschool series?”

Sternly, Fury replied, “Every middle school in America would disagree with you on that, Maria.”

“I wouldn’t know, sir,” she replied in an attempt to ease Fury’s tension. “Most of my formative years were focused on trying to avoid flunking algebra.” She saw that said attempt fell flat, as Fury didn’t crack one hint of a smile – not even an inch. 

Instead, Coulson added, “All we do know is that while the rest of S.H.I.E.L.D. was focused on trying to figure out the threats in front of us, we left a blind spot open for the bad guys to take advantage. The only good news is that it wasn’t any one of the ones we know.”

“That’s precisely the problem, Agent Coulson,” Fury said. “We didn’t know. I fully understand that this organization isn’t exactly in friendly waters, but what just happened cannot be allowed to happen again. Once that genie’s out of the bottle, no way in hell we can get it back in.”

Maintaining her own sense of composure, Hill then said, “We can at least consider ourselves lucky that nobody else got the bright idea to go after the other preschool shows. Obviously, the shock of the Sesame Sieges – “ Fury gave her the ultimate stink eye for saying that name. “It’s what they’re calling the attacks, sir.”

“Sigh… the media these days.” Of all the things Fury was none too happy about, it was the fact that most of the major news outlets were too busy trying to sensationalize the whole thing, as if it wasn’t some sort of genocide. Nevertheless, he then said, “The only thing I would call the attacks is incredibly lucky. Not one casualty. But you know that’s not gonna be the case next time.”

Holding out a data pad, Coulson handed it to Fury as he said, “New York City’s being a little difficult to actually help out the Muppets. Law enforcement is practically rebelling against Mayor Peck over his deputy mayor; they won’t bother following his orders unless he ditches the girl.” Wait, Mayor Peck? As in Walter “Dickless” Peck? Well, one might say that’s not entirely surprising considering that Peck’s nobody’s favorite, but it was said deputy mayor that was even more surprising – a brunette in a red dress and sun bonnet, who looked more out of the Mario games than the more realistically looking Peck.

“Right, the New Donkian,” Hill added, recognizing her as Deputy Mayor Pauline. “Heard her reforms she’s been pushing Peck to implement got the usual suspects riled up. Not surprising, sir, but – “

Fury interrupted by saying, “But that means we can’t count on the NYPD to help. Or the Mayor’s office, given how toothless his administration is.”

“Toothless enough that a recall election’s being talked about,” added Coulson. “And that’s just the tip of the iceberg. After the word hit, I tried reaching out to the Avengers to see if they could put their guys out there. All I got was a voicemail from J.A.R.V.I.S., Sir… they’re not here.”

One could almost hear a pin drop, as the sheer volume of such a revelation drowned out all other noises. It was as if time itself had stopped. Of all the news Fury could have heard, the last thing he needed to hear at a time like this was that the Avengers weren’t home. It was like somebody was trying to tell him today wasn’t his day. But at the very least, he had a feeling what was coming next. “And let me guess. Mister Stark didn’t bother to say where the Avengers were going.”

“Right on the ball, sir,” Coulson nodded. “In fact, the only Avenger we were told about was our friend.” Soon, an image appeared behind him of a square-jawed man dressed in a patriotic blue outfit. “Turns out that Cap’s bound for the Jarhanpur front. Intel’s got him on a Quinjet for the League’s relief center in the Capitol.”

Hill added, “And at last report, the Boravian army took Superman’s brief leave to Sesame Street to start shelling the eastern region. Luthor slunk back off to Metropolis and is hiding behind his connections, but with the intensity of the fighting, we can’t reach out to the League. And Cap’s strangely gone radio silent.”

“Not exactly the type to keep quiet about what he’s up to,” said Coulson, who would know almost better than anyone about the Sentinel of Liberty, given he’s a massive fanboy. “Stark, I can understand brushing you off. He was never one to trust authority. But Cap? Even with the history you two have?”

It was true that Cap not telling Fury about where he was heading, to say nothing of not even bothering to pick up the phone, was highly unusual. As Coulson said, Stark didn’t trust Fury one iota, but Cap? Yeah, they didn’t agree on how some things were done, but the two had fought side by side in the greatest conflict in human history. They trusted each other to have their backs in the thick of battle, if nothing else. He didn’t like it, but for the moment, he had to trust Cap.

Instead, he said, “Let me know when he gets there. Inform our agents to raise the League’s relief site, and request a communiqué to Cap when he’s free. Otherwise, keep all monitors open for any reports on the Avengers’ whereabouts. Any sign of them, I want to hear about it first.”

“Which begs the question, sir,” said Hill. “What about our Sesame Street problem? With New York clearly at odds, and given our usual help MIA, I don’t exactly feel comfortable about leaving it open for an eighth attack. Unless you're planning on intervening yourself.”

Gesturing outside to the ship’s massive spinning turbines, Fury said, “If the street was still under siege, then I would. But this is a diplomatic matter; no need to bring a billion-dollar aircraft carrier with enough firepower to level half the city. Besides, I have every intention of making sure this doesn’t go ignored.”

“If you’re referring to who I think you are, Director,” Coulson said in anticipation, “I’d think you’d be wasting your breath. It’d be much easier to teleport the whole planet to another dimension rather than get that guy to cooperate on anything. As a matter of fact, I vividly recall that the last time you spoke with him, you were five seconds away from punching him square on the jaw – and that was at the inauguration ceremony.”

Shaking his head, Fury recalled his first, or rather second, meeting at the inauguration of Donald Trump. The first time was just all wind and bluster, but the recent encounter prompted Fury to manually restrain himself after hearing endless talks about threatening to use S.H.I.E.L.D. as a means of “retribution against the radical left”. The only reason he didn’t just let loose that day was that he felt it wasn’t worth starting a war with the U.S. government. An eye for an eye just leaves people blind, and Fury had only one good eye left.

Still, Fury told his top agent, “As far as I’m concerned, his threats don’t nullify S.H.I.E.L.D.’s previous agreement with President Johnson. We stay out of their hair; they don’t make us do their dirty work. Problem is, ol’ Donnie seems too keen on trying to use our resources to help Boravia wipe Jarhanpur off the map. And the bastard’s been ignoring my calls.”

“What’s the old saying, sir?” Hill rhetorically asked. “Don’t call us, we’ll call you? Seems the President is only ok with making us help him, never to ask permission to use our stuff. And when we call him for simple queries, dead silence.”

Coulson shrugged and added, “Honestly makes me miss working undercover during the Bartlett administration. They didn’t accomplish anything, but at least they didn’t try making S.H.I.E.L.D. into their attack dog.” President Bartlett? From The West Wing? So he was President in this timeline?

“In any case, the attacks occurred on American soil,” continued the director of S.H.I.E.L.D. “I fully intend that Mister Trump either get his ass out of the golf course and do something to convince me that he intends not to be the same giant screwup he was last time, or if he’s going to continue to act like a giant manbaby. If I find the latter’s his choice, and he intends to make S.H.I.E.L.D. handle his little revenge spree, I fully intend to enact the Breakaway Protocol.”

There was somewhat more of a silence. Not nearly as bad as before, since this time, both Coulson and Hill saw this coming. As Fury said, the organization had a pact not to get involved in the U.S. Government’s affairs as long as they didn’t use S.H.I.E.L.D. as an attack dog, but little by little, America’s leaders have been trying to break their side of the deal. Nixon tried to make them arrest anyone connected to Watergate, but Fury saw fit that Congress get those tapes detailing his scheme. Reagan tried using the group to carry out Iran-Contra; they outright refused and leaked the plan. Really, only Jeb Bartlett – who won the 2000 election in this reality instead of George W. Bush – didn’t bother with trying to make S.H.I.E.L.D. do his dirty work; he was more upset that they were intervening in Jarhanpur when the conflict continued to escalate and tried cutting their funding.

But Donald Trump… hoo boy, did he keep making a stink about trying to get the organization to supply weapons to Boravia, insisting that “the country has a right to defend itself.” Fury didn’t budge. And when the conflict reached its current state, Joe Biden tried the same thing… particularly as he began to lose his mind during his presidency (and worse, somehow). Again, Fury refused. But still, it didn’t change the fact that Trump managed to somehow get reelected in 2024 (personally, Fury suspected HYDRA had something to do with it), and immediately after taking office, demanded he devoted all of S.H.I.E.L.D. towards helping to round up immigrants across America with I.C.E. After all that, Fury had felt it was near time to enact one protocol he’d personally prayed would have never happened in his long-spanning lifetime.

Still, these last few years had forced both Coulson and Hill to prepare, as the former said, “I’ll have a jet prepped for Washington immediately.”

“In the meantime, sir,” Hill said, “We could try reaching out to some street-level contacts. Assuming we can get any of them to pick up.” Already, she was dreading the usual push-back from the lesser-known or unaffiliated heroes in New York. Who distrusted S.H.I.E.L.D.; her ears were still ringing from the last time she got flatly told off by Luke Cage.

Even Fury sensed her unease and joked, “You could always try asking Parker.”

“I think Mister Parker has made it clear that he doesn’t intend to work with S.H.I.E.L.D. anytime soon, Director Fury,” Coulson replied. “Or anyone else, for that matter. In fact, we have a giant pile of Avengers invitation letters he kept turning down.”

Shaking his head, Fury said, “When this is over, I’m going to have to order you two on vacation.” Coulson momentarily winced, recounting that the last ‘vacation’ he went on wasn’t all that pleasant. “Relax, it’s not to Tahiti. Sigh… But seriously, would it kill you two to lighten up?”

“If it helps, Director, I’ll add in a comedy course to the training program,” Hill replied in a semi-joking tone. Fury simply smirked, as if his point had been proven, before he walked out of the command center to head to his jet for the most unpleasant talk of his life. 

As Fury left, Coulson said, “I don’t think I’ve ever seen Fury this tense. Even back when the Hulk got loose on the Hellicarrier, he still kept his cool like it was a typical Tuesday.”

“There’s nothing ever typical in our line of work, Phil,” Maria replied. “And given recent events, I don’t think anything’s going to be typical ever again.” Both agents looked at one another with that same, disconcerting look. Normalcy was always a sacrifice on the job, but today? They both shared a gut feeling that whenever Fury got back, the gates of hell itself would fling right open and unleash its worst. 

Sure enough, an agent came up with two intelligence reports – one from Coruscant, and the other from Greece…

New York City, New York.

Times Square. A bustling hub of activity filled to the nines with thousands of people going and coming from all sorts of places. Most notably, it was filled with a variety of billboards advertising virtually everything from products to upcoming events. Normally, this would be the typical sodas, fast food joints, sporting events, and Broadway shows. But lately, it was nothing but what just happened on Sesame Street, and that wasn’t an exaggeration. Every single billboard was showing the near-carnage that happened to the Muppets, as if it were some major sensation. Like those poor fellows weren’t already horrified out of their gourds, but everyone was trying to capitalize on the tragedy. And Mira was glaring out of the limo HUNTR/X had rented, her eyes trained on those screens as if she intended to smash them herself.

It had been a mostly quiet flight out of Toronto for the trio, with few words having been shared since. Not because they had anything to talk about, but the sheer fact that this happened… The shock was still all the more apparent. Never in a million years would any of them have expected to bear witness to such a tragedy, even considering their line of work had put them against the near-extinction of South Korea. 

None of them slept that night. Hell, they couldn’t get any sleep once word had spread that Makima had used the whole event to ascend to Galactic Empress and kill Palpatine in the process. Zoey, in particular, having watched the Star Wars films forwards and backwards, actually fell deafly silent. The idea of Darth Vader working for Makima, especially a force known to cut through enemies like they were paper, terrified the youngest of the trio. It was taking every ounce of hunter training she had received not to fall apart.

Still, all three of them looked exhausted. Nothing they weren’t used to, given that their concerts could run into the late hours, but this was different. Genuine worry and sleepless nights never coincided with a near-genocide. Even for New York, a city constantly under siege by various super villains, this was a bridge too far for almost everyone who wasn’t trying to milk it for views.

“People, I swear…” Mira growled as she kept glaring at the news reports, eventually having to will herself to turn away for her own sanity. “Sigh… I hope the Muppets aren’t seeing that.”

Trying to keep herself awake with a strong cup of coffee, Zoey replied, “Especially since most of them are kids. I don’t even want to imagine what kind of nightmares they’ve been having.”

“I don’t think they can even sleep anymore than we can,” lamented Rumi. “If anything, they’re probably worried when the next attack will come…” Already, her sword was drawn close, just in case it did happen during their visit. 

But, despite their exhaustion and worries, there was still some small sense of excitement between the three of them, as Zoey made clear. “So, who do you think’s gonna be surprised the most?”

“Best bet? It’s gotta be Elmo,” replied Mira. “I mean, assuming he’s old enough to know what K-Pop is. What, he’s been a toddler for nearly 30 years now? Kinda makes you wonder if the Muppets have something that makes them eternally young. Or maybe it’s a Muppet thing.”

Shrugging, Rumi said, “I’m sure it’s a Muppet thing. And Elmo’s a lot smarter than people give him credit for. Besides, what really matters is that he needs something to help cheer him up. All of them.”

“I know we have that show in Dallas and all,” said Mira, “But it just feels wrong not to at least check in, you know?”

Zoey nodded vigorously as the coffee started to kick in. “Oh! And let’s not forget we can get the Honmoon set up while we’re there!”

“Especially after Gwi-Ma decided to show up,” agreed Rumi, who was most concerned about their old enemy daring to attack Sesame Street. “I just can’t believe that Xavier – “

“Xanatos, Rumi,” Zoey quickly corrected.

“Right, sorry, Xanatos talked him down.”

It almost seemed unreal that of all the people in the universe, it was another bad guy who’d managed to stave off the Demon King – the same guy who wouldn’t even consider being in the same room with HUNTR/X unless he was planning to consume their souls! Though from what Zoey had said of his reputation, he wouldn’t have done so unless there was something to gain out of all of this. 

Nevertheless, it cemented Rumi’s desire that they had to get the Honmoon spread out to New York in case Gwi-Ma changed his mind. Sure, the fans always came first, but they were also hunters, and where Gwi-Ma went, they had to follow. Clearly, he’d retreated to his underworld to lick his wounded pride, so they’d at least have him off their backs for a little while. Then again, given that the Eternity Devil tried killing them in Toronto, they had a sneaking suspicion that other Demons would try again somehow.

In any case, the leader of the group said, “We still don’t have long before we have to jet out for Texas, so we’ll have to make sure Sesame Street is secured.”

“Assuming the Avengers don’t bother showing up midway through the song,” joked Mira, to Zoey’s delight. “Considering who we met in Toronto, I don’t want another situation where The Hulk decides to make the Cow Devil into hamburgers all of a sudden.” Although they were still somewhat mournful of Bucky’s quick demise at the hands of Homer Simpson, it was still worth a little chuckle to cheer them up. 

Yet as the limo was pulling up to the famous 123 sign, Wade’s voice said, “Oh, sorry, Pinky. The Avengers are gonna be on siesta for a while. I mean, unless we’re gonna delve into obscurity and bust out Luna Snow for the most obvious crossover team-up in history. But, aside from Cap goin’ out to deal with a major plot point from James Gunn’s Superman, the usual suspects are currently MIA. What I can promise is that today, it’s gonna be one hell of a surprise. Unless you read the first and second drafts, then you technically know what’s coming.”

Trump White House Resort & Suites. 1600 Pennsylvania Avenue. Washington D.C. Currently under “renovations”.

Over the sounds of construction equipment knocking down the East Wing, so stood a monument to the United States – or at least it should be, considering that the man in charge was in the process of taking out a whole chunk of it so he could build a ballroom. But the fact he was there in the first place had often begged a lot of questions – how in the hell did Donald Trump become President of the United States?

Yes, it was a shock to believe, but in 2016, the billionaire businessman and television personality ascended to the nation’s highest office. It seemed almost like this was something out of a joke the writers from The Simpsons came up with, but it was true. Despite his numerous bankruptcies, a major sexual assault scandal, and the fact that he was touting a racist, nationalist platform that was proving unpopular with the general public, he still won to become President. Granted, his opponent wasn’t exactly an ideal alternative herself, but… well, more on that later.

Regardless, Donald Trump earned his nickname of “Teflon Don” because his administration was riddled with controversy after controversy, and nothing seemed to stick. Accusations that the Russians helped get him elected were dismissed as “fake news”, along with claims that it was really the terrorist organization HYDRA that got him into office. Numerous resignations and firings within his staff did nothing to deter his desires to force America into his own fiefdom. A major scandal revealing he withheld funding from Ukraine to demand dirt on Joe Biden, leading to his first impeachment, ended with it being dismissed by his sycophantic allies as “a left-wing hoax”, and the literally spineless opposition refusing to press it further. And then there was the fact that he happily diverted that money to Boravia to help them annex Jarhanpur under the guise of “the right to defend themselves”. 

But then, his luck seemingly ran out. In 2020, no thanks to an infamous news reporter from Kazakhstan, a deadly virus spread across the world called COVID-19, and Trump was finally done in by his administration’s lack of response to the disease. Joe Biden won out, and Trump was soundly bested, no thanks to encouraging his rabid fanbase to ignore the quarantines and not get the vaccines when they came out. His devastating loss led to calls that the election was “stolen” from him, culminating in his supporters storming the US Capitol in an attempt to kill Congress and the Senate before they could certify Biden’s win. In the aftermath, he was impeached again for his actions.

That should have been the end of him. But that didn’t turn out to be the case.

In 2024, he won again.

Yes, despite his crimes, despite the fact he had over 90 separate criminal indictments in 3 separate jurisdictions – one of which resulted in his conviction on 34 counts of fraud – despite the fact more dirt was coming out on the depravity of his actions, despite the fact he was now the most hated man in America… he still won. History repeated itself, and he found that his opponent had effectively shot herself in the foot despite having a major advantage. The cheating rumors came back again, but nothing ever came of it. He returned to the White House as the first nonconsecutive president since Grover Cleveland… and this time, he had absolutely nothing left to lose. 

If anything, as he was watching the bulldozers tear down the East Wing, Trump was smiling as he was surrounded by his loyal followers – all of whom were clad in the requisite white robes of the Ku Klux Klan and wearing cheap pins of his face. Out of his mouth, Trump’s voice boasted, “Look at that, everyone. It’s beautiful. Absolutely beautiful. It’s gonna be THE BEST ballroom we’ve ever made; nobody’s gonna be able to top it. Hell, let’s just put out a press release and declare, "BEST BALLROOM EVER. It’s gonna be yuge, believe me.”

“OMG like, totally correct oh high and mighty Lord Trump!” spoke Pam Bondi, Trump’s Attorney General. Interestingly enough, Bondi’s “robes” were little more than a Klan-themed version of the famous metal bikini from Return of the Jedi, as famously worn by one Princess Leia Organa, with the addition of the Klan hood, and for some reason, she was talking like a valley girl. “Your ballroom shall, like, be the ballroom to end all ballrooms!”

Hearing such talk from his own staffer (as he constantly expected), Trump said, “Yes! Yes! That’s exactly it! Now, uh… we have this meeting and crap to get through in the next 10 minutes; totally got more important things to do running this country. You know, making America great again and all that, as I promised the voters.” As he clutched at a bag of golf clubs, clearly intending to slink off to Mar-A-Lago for the umpteenth million time to play golf (though "his" White House would get its own golf course in time), he then said, “Ok, so lemme see who’s here… Bimbo Barbie who’s name I totally didn’t forget, I’m just calling you that.”

“Like, present, O Lord Trump!” Bondi exclaimed, not caring that he got her name completely wrong. 

Moving on, Trump then said, “JD.” But he heard nothing. “JD?” He looked around, and then saw his Vice President over a couch, also wearing Klan robes… with his pants down! “JD! What the fuck are you doing?”

“Oh, Patricia, pleasure my senses, for I grant thee the privilege of helping to quench my thirst for lust.” And there he was, the stout Ohio native, serving under Trump… seriously, in the midst of having sex with a couch. In the middle of a staff meeting.

Trump started to grow annoyed and said, “JD, seriously! Knock off the couch fucking! Save for after you sing my praises – remind me how great I am and all the good I’ve done for this country! You know, what I expect!”

“Forgive me, Lord Trump,” Vance said as he kept at it. “I am a mere slave to my urges, forever bound to the soft leather feeling upon my manhood.”

Trump actually facepalmed and said, “Jesus, JD you… you seriously need to get your priorities straight. AKA, ME! This is why we need to be more like China, folks; seriously, Winnie The Pooh never has a problem keeping his guys from acting out. Every time they step out of line, he just drags them out on the street and shoots them! I mean, how hard is that to accomplish?”

“It is possible, Lord Trump,” said Brendan Carr. “However, you must remember that our duty is to ensure our freedom of speech is fully restored, as mine was taken from me for a time. We must ensure that the public has fully accepted thy glory before we can fully declare this nation as your sole dominance.”

Sighing heavily, Trump said, "Brendan, did I seriously ask for your opinion just now? Huh, did I say, ‘Brendan, tell me how great I am?’ NO! WRONG! I said no such thing! Seriously, now look at what you did, Brendan. You went and made me mad, and I don’t like being made mad!”

“FORGIVE ME FOR MY IMPUDENCE, LORD TRUMP!” Carr said as he got on his knees. “I AM BUT AN IMPURE, UNHOLY SINNER! I BEG FOR MERCY – OFFER MY LIFE SAVINGS TO YOUR GLORIOUS NEW PROJECT!” He then reached into his pocket, pulled out his wallet, and handed its entire contents to Trump. “A TRIBUTE FOR MY LIFE!”

Trump just grabbed the cash, stuffed it in his shirt pocket, tossed the wallet aside, and said, “Whatever. Now, who else?”

He looked around the table and saw a schlubby-looking man wearing a hat that read “Hitler Was Right” – a middle-aged tech-bro. Scowling, he growled, “Elon…”

“Mister President…” Elon Musk growled back, clearly not happy to be here, but was otherwise forcing himself to be in the same room since the man across from him shared the same goals. Though he was once one of Trump’s staunchest supporters, a clash of egos between them drove the two apart. Now, all that kept him from leaving these meetings was that both he and Trump had to spread their same racist agenda.

Still, Trump saw that one seat was empty. “Peter? Peter, seriously, where the hell is everyone?” Suddenly, ghoulish tech billionaire Peter Thiel – completely in the style of his South Park iteration (albeit wearing Klan robes like Vance and Carr) – danced into the room to a strange tune, which he sang along with in his usual pompous manner.

(“Peter Thiel knows about the Anti-Christ!”)

(“Peter Thiel knows about the Anti-Christ!)

“I’m Peter Thiel, and I know about the Antichriiiiiist!”

(“Let’s learn about the Anti-Christ today!”) “Today!”

Once more, Trump grew tired of the showboatery. “Seriously, is everyone around here needing to do something that doesn’t involve me? I called this meeting! Ergo, I’m the one who should be getting the sole focus here! Like, seriously, is it so hard for everyone to accept that when I call, you come, no questions asked, no stupid musical numbers or couchfucking involved? Seriously! Even Elon didn’t pull that shit!”

“But milord,” Thiel tried to interject. “The evidence that I have gathered – “

Trump interrupted by saying, “Save it, Peter! This is far more important! You can spout whatever Anti-Christ shit you have to say after I get everything out of the way – and by after, I mean after I handle that important meeting in Florida. You know, the very important meeting that everyone keeps telling me I need to have; people say, ‘Donald, seriously, you need to have this meeting. It’ll be good for ya!’ I’m telling you, I don’t like having my time wasted.”

“Sigh… yes, Lord Trump,” Thiel dejectedly said. “You are He who is wise and holy, and we dare not question Thy word…”

Deadpool shook his head from beyond the fourth wall and said, “I know what you’re wondering: why in the absolute fuck are we featuring these assholes, but grossly exaggerating their not-so-subtle racism and flaws to an absolute clusterfuck of a parody? Well, the fact is… It’s true. All of it. Even the part where Greedo shot first.”

Huh?

“If you watched Star Wars, you’ll get the joke. But anyhoo… the fact is, our writers ain’t happy with the current state of the U.S. Government. On both sides. While it’ll become obvious what’s happenin’ to the donkey party soon enough, the folks in charge right now are gettin’ dragged over the coals for how they actually behave, just a lot more cartoony. And if you wanna cry about it, let me remind you that if you want evil to lose, you gotta mock the fuck outta them. THANK YOU, SOUTH PARK! Of course, there are still more dipshits to shit on…”

Nearby, a seemingly drunken Klansman, a bottle of whiskey in his hand, was slurring out, “Peeeete HIC!... Pete Hes-hesgeth, repo –URRRRP! Reporting as ordered, oooooOOOOOOOOOOOOH supreme one!”

“Lord Hesgeth, please refrain from your indulgences,” spoke another hooded man, this one of a paler complexion with a surprising sparkle to him. “The Lord Trump – He who is most holy, he who is the supreme ruler of this land, and he who will purge the unholy ones from this Earth – is speaking.”

Trump said, “See, Steve gets it! I mean, he came in, he dolled himself up, he made sure the wheels were greased – why can’t any of you be more like Stephen? Like, seriously, he knows how to behave. No couch fucking, no being piss drunk, no ignoring me!”

“See?” another Kultist smugly said, this one with a beard and clearly balding under his hood. “The Lord Trump is wise in all ways!”

But Elon said, “Suuuuure he is, Russ. He’s soooooo wise…”

“Elon, seriously, if you’re gonna use sarcasm, don’t do it while I’m in the room, ok?” Trump snarked. “I’m the one in the chair. Ok? You’re the one on the other side of that chair. Clearly that shows who’s the better guy!”

Musk, already in immense discomfort, just growled, “Just. Get this. Over with.”

“Indeed, milord,” said Stephen “Steve” Miller. “Thy great work must be carried out. We cannot sustain our ways if we do not act against the radical woke, left, social justice warrior, DEI, immigrant-driven forces conspiring with the Deep State to plot against us.”

Trump just brushed him off and said, “Eyyyyy, relax, guy! I’m gettin’ there. But first, before I make a very TRAGIC announcement – most tragic announcement in the history of announcements, by the way; total tear-jerker – I wanna hear the prayer.”

“Yes, because you’re the top dog around here…” Elon once again snarked. 

Of course, this caused Trump to yell, “Seriously! Elon! Shut the hell up! I’m the President! You’re not! End of story! When are you gonna get it through your thick head that I’m the reason this country is great again and not your mobile little bomb factories!”

“Excuse me?!” he snarled back. “If it wasn’t for me, you’d be locked in federal prison! I’m the reason you got the White House back! And for the record, Tesla’s technologies are second to none, despite what the radical left woke critics make it out to be! Need I remind you of how X has become the free speech platform when your stupid little “Truth Social” bombed out?”

But the President just about lost it and said, “IF YOU’RE SUGGESTING I MADE A BAD BUSINESS DECISION – WHICH I DIDN’T, FOR THE RECORD – I WILL FEED YOU TO SHUPRI’COA OR WHATEVER THE HELL IT’S NAME IS, FOR QUESTIONING ME! I AM THIS COUNTRY! NOT! YOU!” Sighing heavily, Elon just about gave up trying to say anything and sat down, pulling out a bag of Ketamine in the process. He had a feeling he was going to need it. 

“Now, if you would!” Trump growled to his associates, who all gathered hand in hand, and circled the President, who grinned with such a tenacious glee as he was prepared to hear the latest in sycophancy, as recited by House Speaker Mike Johnson, in full Klansman garb just like the others (though Elon did so very reluctantly). 

“Our Lord Trump, who art in America, Praise before Him and the Elder God, Shupri’Coa. Thy Empire rise, Thy will be done, across this pathetic mortal coil. Give us today the end of the radical left, and curse upon all those who dare to question His Holiness. And lead our enemies into the gates of hell, where they will be judged as sinners and cast forever into torment. For all is, was, and forever shall be, The Lord Donald J. Trump: Greatest President Ever. Praise to His name in eternity!”

And while all that was happening, a portal to hell itself opened in the center of the ring, where the very table was destroyed as this gigantic eldritch beast emerged! As it spewed out a foul-smelling breath of fire and brimstone, this insectoid husk soon had six decayed heads sprout forth like a zombified dragon, its mash of rotted flesh commanding a presence of utter terror. “ALL… HAIL… SHUPRI’COA… JUSTICE… DEVIL… SOLE… LAW… OF… THE… LAND,”  it uttered in eldritch tones through the heads of the six Supreme Court Justices that it had assimilated: Gorsuch, Kavanaugh, Barrett, Alito, Thomas and Roberts.

“O Almighty Shupri’Coa,” Johnson pleaded, “lend us thine strength to destroy any blasphemous far-left heretics who might come our way during this meeting, and reinforce the sacred will of the Lord Trump.”

“And rid us of the Antichrist,” added Thiel, “for it is a plague upon the land and is preventing us from achieving the truly perfect society of boundless surveillance and subjugation by those who have shown their righteousness.”

“Yeah, yeah,” complained the President, “enough with this Antichrist BS. I don’t believe in that bullshit.”

“Indeed, milord,” replied Johnson, sucking up to Trump as hard as he could, as usual. “The alleged widespread teachings of 'Jesus Christ' are false, for Thou art His true avatar and reincarnation, and the universe is governed by Thy will.”

“YES… LAW… OF… LORD… TRUMP… IS… LAW… OF… THE… UNIVERSE…”, groaned the horrific Justice Devil.

“Uhhh… hello?” A voice called out from outside the window that happened to be none other than Jesus of Nazareth himself – or more specifically, his South Park incarnation. Much like Carr and Thiel, this was the form that Jesus took in this universe, being a staple recurring character on the show. “Didn’t you literally force me to become a guidance counselor at South Park Elementary because of Trump wanting Jesus in schools?” Yet, Christ’s pleas fell on deaf ears, as Trump and his Kultists completely ignored that he was even there. “Lo, the winds are calling to us in such a manner that may suggest speech, but it is not, for it is not the will of the Lord Trump that speaks to us,” blurted out Vought in a bout of Insane Troll Logic.

And Trump, being dismissive as usual, said, “Never heard of this Jesus guy anyway. I might have taken his picture, but I dunno; I’ve taken lots of pictures with lots of people! Hell, the name sounds fake! Who names their kid “Jesus”? Sounds SAD!”

“Yes, oh Holy One!” Pam Bondi said as she began jotting Jesus’ name on a list of “Sinners To Smite” (much to the exasperation of the real Jesus). “Like, this false Jesus person is a toooootally woke radical who must be, like, purged for daring to think he’s better than you! For we all, like, know that the real Jesus is within thee, milord!”

While Jesus sighed and muttered, “Why the fuck do I even bother with this asshole?” Trump began his usual ramblings, “Ok, people, listen VERY closely, because I have some SAD news – very sad news that makes all sad news look happy. And no, this is not the FAKE NEWS that CNN and MSNBC peddle. Which reminds me, Brendan, have they been shut down yet?”

“Nay, Lord Trump,” Carr replied. “The fake news media outlets still stand, despite our best efforts, as they have carried out your will and capitulated to spread your Holy Word via the threat of your power smiting them. The Warmbos are proving a very useful tool.”

Trump just said, “Alright, fine, whatever. As long as they don’t make up shit about me like with Russia. Can you believe it? They’re still on about it! Russia, Russia, Russia! I mean, how do they even think that’s relevant? I said I never let the Russians help my election campaign, and they still insist I did!”

“NONBELIEVERS… PURGED… IN… NAME… OF… LORD… TRUMP… SO… DECLARES… SHUPRI’COA…” spoke the eldritch beast as it salivated through the massive maw on its belly. 

Hegseth drunkenly said, “HEHEHEHE! The… the cata–URRRP! Caterpillar is right! Hehehehehe! We shallllllllllll destroy all who DaaaaaAAAAAAArrrre smite thy HIC Holy name!”

“Then maybe we can start with that BITCH CALLED MAKIMA OR WHATEVER!” Trump suddenly yelled in a tone far less braggart and more insulted. “THAT HORRIBLE WOMAN – WHO BY THE WAY, ISN’T EVEN ALL THAT HOT! SHE’S LIKE MAYBE A  2, AT BEST – KILLED THE GREATEST PERSON BESIDES ME AND COLDLY EXECUTED THE LEGENDARY EMPEROR SHEEV PALPATINE!”

Suddenly, a giant painting of Palpatine lit up behind him, depicting the late Galactic Emperor in a light of great reverence, almost as if this was the Sistine Chapel Ceiling itself. And no, this wasn’t an AI-generated image; every stroke was done naturally by only the finest artist, commissioned specifically for Trump’s office. In fact, it was surrounded by a variety of other non-A.I. images of Palpatine, all of which paid some form of deference to him. 

Tears began running down Trump’s face, cutting through his spray tan, as he cried, “Makima has committed an act of treason by executing the true hero of this universe! He was the only one who could truly make the galaxy great again!”

“Indeed, milord,” Miller said. “Second only to you, the Lord Palpatine was a true son of the Holy Ways, enacting His will upon the vile immigrants and vagrants of the galaxy, only to be slain by that j*p whore. Lo, she shall be smited for her sins, cast into the very sun to ensure she burns far more painfully than any pain she inflicted upon our most sacred of idols.”

Mike Johnson nodded in affirmation. “Thy Will be done, o most Holy One, Lord Trump. Makima has made herself an enemy of the Ku Klux Kult – the true sons of America and the only ones who can ensure order is restored to his lawless reality. It shall be by your hand that she meets her demise!”

“Ku Klux Kult?” Deadpool snarked from beyond the fourth wall. “Guy, are you… Actually, you know what, don’t bother answering that.” He turned to the reader and then said, “Look, guy, I know you’re probably still fuming about the fact we’re mocking the fuck out of Donny and co by making them grossly exaggerated racists, and you’re trying to justify in your head how “we’re woke” or “we’re trying to force our viewpoints on you” or some shit like that. But just listen, ok? Works that take a stand against these dipshits are the ones people remember the most. You know why? Hopefully, by the time you read this, Donny’s rotting away while his regime’s running around like chickens with their heads cut off, made into a complete clusterfuck of a joke by stories like this. We’re writing this in the thick of it, when he’s trying to make America into the Fourth Reich. You may not agree, hell, you may even think we’re going too far, but lemme remind you that Mel Brooks spent his life turning Hitler into a joke nobody took seriously. You want these assholes gone, you make it so people can’t look at ‘em without thinking they’re just a bunch of chumps with less brain than Barney. And maybe – just maybe – you’ll think about doing the same thing to the next asshole who tries making you lick their boots without care.”

As for Trump, he wiped away his tears and got orange on his face, forcing several African American men to remove his coat and get him a fresh one. While the three of them looked terrified as they got dirty looks from the members present, Trump then said, “So here’s what we’re gonna do, and I want this done exactly as I say it is. We’re gonna declare “National Palpatine Day.” It’s gonna be yuge. Everyone’s gonna come out and give their respects. They don’t, we lock ‘em away; hell, we can even kill ‘em if they don’t! Anyone who stumps for that whore, we do the same thing.”

“Lo, the Lord Trump has issued his decree!” Carr spoke. “All must worship the late Emperor Palpatine, or forever be destroyed for their defiance!”

Giddily, Bondi said, “Like, praise His name! We shall, like, destroy all his enemies, because none of them, like, know his wisdom! Anyone who dares defy him will totally be wiped out like insects!”

“Pfft, like you can even wipe your own ass,” Musk snarked.

Trump then yelled, “ELON, IF YOU DO NOT SHUT YOUR FUCKING MOUTH, I WILL GUT YOU ALIVE!”

“FUCK YOU!” Musk yelled back. “I’M THE ONLY REASON THE FEDS DIDN’T GET YOU! I’M THE REASON THIS PARTY STILL EXISTS!”

Shupri’Coa then roared and said, “LORD… MUSK… TREASON… STAND… DOWN… OR… BE… DESTROYED…”

“YOU TELL THAT SON OF A BITCH!” Trump yelled. “THIS IS MY MEETING! I’M THE ONE CALLIN’ THE SHOTS, ELON! YOU’RE NOT IN CHARGE! YOU WANNA DIE WITH THE REST OF THOSE WOKE LOSERS, YOU KEEP YAPPIN’! PALPATINE IS THE GREATEST HERO IN OUR HISTORY, AND I WILL MAKE AMERICA MOURN HIM! I CAN DO ANYTHING! I AM POWER ITSELF!”

But as Musk just grabbed his ketamine bag and started snorting into it, not content on being eaten alive by the beast in front of him, someone else entered the room, carrying… a cat? Yes, Nick Fury was walking into the room carrying a tabby cat in his arms. “Now I seem to recall correctly that I was the one who called this meetin’, Mister President. So I suggest you all sit your asses down. Oh, and for the record, you ain’t Power. Hell, she smells worse than you, and I’d trust her more than your orange ass.”

“Ewwwwww, like, get this n****r out of here!” Pam Bondi shouted as she writhed in disgust at seeing Fury in the room. “No one of your kind should, like, approach him unless they accept they are slaves before His will!”

Fury just shook his head, expecting that colorful word to be tossed around, and glared right at Trump while ignoring Bondi. “Mister President, I think it’s time you and I have a lil’ chat about what happened in New York.”  Of course, most everyone in the room was getting agitated – Miller began to hiss, Musk stuffed his face in the Ketamine bag and snorted as hard as he could, and Vance went limp with his little couch fuckery and glared as angrily as possible.

“Look, Nicky –” Trump tried to say.

“That’s Director Fury to you, Trump,” Fury coldly replied. “No one calls me Nicky.”

But Trump brushed him off and said, “Whatever. Seriously, Nicky, nobody gives a shit what you’re called. In here, I make the rules, ok? My name’s on the White House Lawn.” As he said that, more of his Kulitsts were etching his name into the lawn with a laser. “People always say, ‘Donald, you’re such a great guy, you deserve to be President!’ And you know what? They’re right!”

“PRAISE TO HIS GLORIOUS NAME!” all the Kultists shouted in unison. 

But again, Fury just ignored them. “As I was saying… in case you weren’t busy with getting your big head out of your oversized ass, there was a recent attack on Sesame Street. Hell, seven of them in one day! Now the reason I am here is because these attacks occurred on American soil, so I wanna know why the U.S. Government isn’t taking any action!”

“The Lord Trump has deemed no action is necessary,” Vought replied. “A n****r like you shouldn’t dare to question His judgement. Besides, the radical woke Muppets on Sesame Street deserved to face punishment for daring to defy His will.”

Fury stroked the cat’s neck, listening to it purr as he replied, “It seems the default answer around here is, ‘I don’t know shit!’”

“Does thou DARE to insinuate The Lord Trump is a fool?!” Miller hissed out as he seemed to make his fingernails razor sharp. “KNOW YOUR –”

But Fury glared right back and said, “I didn’t ask you a goddamn thing!” And the cat began to hiss at Miller, causing him to back down like a coward. “Now, as I was saying, S.H.I.E.L.D. is here to discern exactly how and why these attacks occurred without us knowin’, so since this happened under your jurisdiction, I am obliged to ask you – the current President of the United States, as you repeatedly remind everyone – why you aren’t doin’ anything about this!”

“Eyyyyy, relax guy!” Trump responded sleazily. “I am gonna do somethin’ about this – make the Muppets worship the late, great Palpatine for their role in his demise if they don’t want to die horribly! It’s a brilliant plan; best plan ever made! GENIUS!”

Once more, the Kultists sycophantically said, “PRAISE BE TO HIS GLORY!” – all except Elon, whose own, ketamine-rotted brain couldn’t process a black man in the room and was in the midst of pulling up his own personal A.I., Grok, to start generating naughty images of Makima. 

“Again, sole genius in the room here,” Musk said through his drug, fake A.I. hormone-induced state. “I’d say it’s just better if we kill them outright. After all, those Muppets aren’t the future. Not like Grok.”

Sighing heavily, Fury was starting to grow more annoyed. Again, it wasn’t like he didn’t expect this, given the administration’s resistance to anything S.H.I.E.L.D. has tried doing, but the more they rambled on, the more he was just half tempted to walk away and enact the Breakaway Protocol. But then again, that’s why he brought the “cat”. 

Letting this cat – Goose – drop to the ground, Fury then said, “Mister Musk, Mister Trump… if I didn’t know any better, I’d say you just made an active terrorist threat in front of the director of the biggest national intelligence agency on the planet! Must I therefore assume you intend to act on that threat?”

“Correct, n****r,” Brendan Carr said. “All that is, was, and ever will be is that of The Lord Trump. If He demands it so, it shalt be carried out in His glory. No more will Sesame Street exist, for we fully intend that it burns to the ground.”

Nearby, Vance said, “Now, remove thyself and return to the plantation from which thou came. You have disturbed my holy mating ceremony with Patricia, and therefore – “ Suddenly, he saw Goose sitting on the couch, looking all innocent. “Remove thyself, cretin! I cannot engage in the holy acts unless – “

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” Fury snarked with a smile on his face. “Goose may look all cute and cuddly, but she packs a mean wallop.”

Trump then legitimately asked, “Seriously, what’s with the cat?”

“Call it an 'In Case Of Emergency' type of scenario,” Fury replied. “And seein’ as you all declared boldly that you intend to attack Sesame Street without one hint of irony. I fully intend to take those kinds of threats very seriously.”

Bondi then screamed, “Like, how dare you?! Whatever He deems is totally ok! Such is the Will of Lord Trump!”

“CORRECT… LORD… TRUMP… WILL… ABSOLUTE…” Shupri’Coa boasted, as Fury glared at the ugly beast. Internally, he was wondering why the hell this thing hadn’t been sent back to whatever hole it crawled out of, and swore he was gonna chew out Doctor Strange at the first opportunity he got. 

Keeping his eye focused on the room, Fury said, “I understand that you have made a decision, Mister President, but given that it’s a stupid-ass decision, I’m choosin’ to ignore it!”

“Excuse me?” Trump asked in an offended tone. “Are you saying you’re intending to ignore me?”

Fury pressed himself up further to Trump as Goose hissed nearby. “I am saying that as far as S.H.I.E.L.D. is concerned, it doesn’t matter who you are. And in the last five minutes, all you’ve done is demonstrate that my concerns for your second administration are well-founded. So I am going to give you an ultimatum, since you seem so fond of ‘em: either you change your mind in the next three seconds about attacking Sesame Street, or I will be forced to declare this administration as an enemy of this planet. Ergo, the organization will no longer hold itself as bound to the U.S.”

“You would not dare, n****r”, growled Johnson. “He is –”

Fury quickly said, “On the verge of finding himself against a very powerful enemy. But then again, none of you have surprised me with just about anything this whole time, so –”

“Oh boy! You didn’t tell me you were bringing a pirate to the ghost party, Mister Trump!”

Except something did surprise him. Yes, for the first time in over 70 years, Nicholas J. Fury was caught off guard by the one thing he never would have seen coming. For right in Trump’s office, having stayed surprisingly quiet the entire time, but completely out of notice, was Barney the Dinosaur. Yes, Barney, sitting there casually with a goofy smile on his face, had been coloring rather poorly into a cheap Trump coloring book. And just as disturbingly, he was hanging around with Nazis. WHOM HE THOUGHT WERE ALL GHOSTS!

“Gee, Mister Pirate!” the dumabssasaur said. “It sure is super-dee-duper that you came all this way to ask Mister Trump to help you find your treasure! He’s the best guy in the whole world!”

That did it. Fury finally lost his cool. After that volley of being insulted, seemingly annoyed him at best, that stupid dinosaur had somehow gotten him agitated beyond all reason. "Barney the motherfucking Dinosaur..."

Then something happened out of nowhere. Barney felt a sharp pain in his chest as he clutched over it, desperately unsure of where that pain was coming from. It felt like the weight of the world had crushed him in a figurative sense, and everything in his body was shutting down. Except that’s exactly what was happening, as Barney had suffered a heart attack out of nowhere and dropped dead out of nowhere. Nearby, a pair of paintings of Teddy and Franklin Roosevelt transformed into Pain and Panic, who screamed in frustration.

Now that, equally stunned Fury. “...Even I have no idea what just happened."

“An old                      joke”, spoke a smoothly animated walking star in a bit-crushed voice as he walked by, all while Pain and Panic began grabbing Barney’s dead body.

Shrugging his shoulders, the director of S.H.I.E.L.D. said, “I’ll take it.”

“Oh, almost forgot to mention,” said the voice of Deadpool. “See, at one point, Sam Jackson himself was gonna be in the fic, given he’s fucking Sam Jackson, but when we added Fury, Mister Saucy Leather Outfit got replaced by Mister Saucy Leather Outfit #2. And back then, Sammy’s oh-so-favorite word made that dumbass drop harder than the numbers on Fallout Boy and Missy Elliot’s cover of the Ghostbusters theme. But since Nick’s basically Sam, well… you do the math.”

Starwalker then said, “Just say the word and he                         Dies” as Pain and Panic were desperately trying to drag the corpse out before the walking star got close and made an even bigger mess. 

"That damned STARWOKER insists on killing the GREATEST THING ALIVE (aside from Me, President Donald J. Trump, and the Late, Great Emperor Palpatine). BURN HIM!" And so the President yelled, as his men burst into the room and chased after the walking star, only to be met with a swarm of laser eyes and sent running away. 

Facepalming super hard, Fury replied to Trump, “Lemme get this straight. You, the President of the United States, think that Barney the Motherfuckin' Dinosaur is a gift from God and want retribution on anyone who kills him. With all due respect, you clearly haven't been taking care of your brain, Mr. President -- even less than before." Of course, saying that caused Barney to somehow die again – this time suffering from a severe case of ligma before his whole body limped over once more. Yes, even a non-existent disease would will itself into being just to see the idiot dead.

“He said it again!” Pain exclaimed. “How is that even possible?!”

Panic replied, “I don’t know! Ask the star!”

“Yes” the walking star replied as he shooed more Kultists away. “Anytime he says the word                              Barney dies”

More groans of frustration came out as the imps then saw Goose walking up, causing Pain to say, “Awwwww! Look! It’s a kitty!”

Except then, Goose sprouted tentacles out of her mouth and opened a massive maw as she swallowed Barney’s corpse… then turned her attention to Pain and Panic! The two screamed in sheer horror as Goose began chasing them around, much to the horror of Trump and his staff. Fury smirked and said, “Now, Goose is no ordinary cat. In fact, she’s not even a cat at all. That is what you call a Flerken. I’m just watching her for a friend, but the little furball has a very voracious appetite for assholes.” He could see the sweat boiling down most of their faces – all except Vance, who decided to get in the way rather stupidly.

“Move thyself, feline!” the vice president exclaimed. “Thou hast tainted Patricia with thy unholy blooAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!” The sounds of sharp claws meeting human flesh pierced the room as Goose clawed at Vance. “MY EEEEEEEEYES! MY EEEEEEEEYES!”

Now that the Kult members were sweating, Fury made his point clear. “So I will say again – S.H.I.E.L.D. does not take kindly to any threats against this planet, regardless of whichever asshole is currently in that chair. You think you’re Doctor Doom? Bitch, please; that guy’s actually got a spine and then some. If you attack Sesame Street while it’s still reeling from the last seven… hell, if you even set foot in there with the intent of making the lives of the Muppets miserable, I can assure you that the Raft will make whatever shit’s in the Epstein files look pleasant by comparison.”

“You–you can’t be serious?!” Trump tried yelling through all his nerves. “I-I-I-I-I-I am… I’m…” But that fear couldn’t allow him to muster a response – at least not until he got some big alert on his phone, and his attitude quickly changed from fear to rage. “Wait, what’s this?”

Musk, for once, got curious and decided to check it out. Cutting away from his “GrokTime”, he opened another browser and accessed what Trump was looking at – footage of three Korean women getting out of a limousine, just outside the illegal surveillance camera the Kult had set outside Sesame Street…

“Hello?!” Zoey called out to the seemingly empty street. “Is anyone home?!” But there was nothing – not even a whisper. All they heard was a gust of wind, seeing not an inch of fuzz nor hide of felt anywhere. The place was practically a ghost town; all that was missing was the cliched tumbleweed dusting its way through the place. 

Even as eagle-eyed as Mira was, even she couldn’t spot the Muppets. “Crap… don’t tell me they skipped town.”

“Maybe they’re still hiding indoors just in case somebody else comes back,” Rumi suggested. “They’re still probably scared out of their wits.” She kept looking around to make sure they weren’t overlooking anything obvious, but at the very least, she could sense there was something surrounding the street. It was small and glowing green, but it covered the entire borders of the neighborhood. “Hmmm…”

Zoey said, “Yeah, I’m seeing it too. What is it?”

“Maybe it’s that magic fence they were talking about on the news?” Mira replied. “Not that it looks like a fence, but you gotta admire its subtlety.”

Rumi shrugged and said, “Well, guess there’s only one way in then…” The three singers slowly walked up towards the borders, half expecting there to be some level of an ambush… only to walk in unharmed. They breathed a sigh of relief, but then something loud came in over a makeshift loudspeaker!

“ALRIGHT, YOU THREE! YOU’D BETTER HAVE A GOOD REASON FOR SHOWING UP TO OUR NEIGHBORHOOD UNINVITED!”

That voice… that sounded a lot like Oscar the Grouch, but clearly he was in hiding with the rest of the Muppets – and he clearly was a lot grouchier than usual. Quickly, Zoey tried to calm him down. “Hello?! Is that you, Oscar?”

“WHO WANTS TO KNOW?!” Oscar’s voice bellowed over the loudspeaker. “BECAUSE IF YOU’RE HERE TO TRY AND KILL US, YOU’VE GOT SOMETHING ELSE COMING!”

Mira snarked under her breath, “Somebody’s in a bad mood.”

“Look, we’re not here to hurt you!” Rumi said as she tried to signal that she and her bandmates were friendlies. “We came here to help you!”

But Oscar seemingly didn’t believe them. “YOU MUST THINK WE’RE REALLY DUMB ENOUGH TO FALL FOR THAT OLD TRICK! NOW SCRAM!”

“But we’re not bad guys!” Zoey protested. “We’re HUNTR/X! You know, defenders of the Honmoon?”

Mira added, “The same people who stopped Gwi-Ma? You know, the same demon who tried attacking you?”

“It’s why we’re here to help!” Rumi said. “We know you’re scared right now, but we have a plan to stop that monster from ever attacking you again! Or anyone else for that matter!”

A moment of silence fell over the street again. Eventually, Oscar replied, “AND HOW DO WE KNOW THAT YOU’RE THE REAL HUNTR/X, AND NOT JUST SOME BAD GUY IN DISGUISE?”

“Uh… because if we were really bad guys, could we do this?” Mira pulled out her Gok-Do, then twirled it around like a pro. “Seriously, Grouch, get some sunshine every once in a while! Ain’t good for you to sit in that trash can all day!”

“OK, BRUTALLY HONEST… BUT I’M STILL NOT CONVINCED!” The girls sighed as Oscar then said, “YOU WANT TO PROVE IT, YOU’RE GONNA HAVE TO DO A LOT BETTER THAN SOME DISS AT MY LIFESTYLE!"

Zoey tried to think it over for a minute on how Oscar could otherwise be convinced… then she immediately let off a big, giant smile and said, “Do bad guys have such cute faces?”

“MMMMMM… OK, MAYBE,” he conceded. “BUT IF YOU ARE REALLY HUNTR/X, YOU SHOULD BE ABLE TO SING LIKE THEM! OR ARE YOU TAKING A ONE-WAY TRIP TO GROUCHLAND WITH THE BUG AND THE POTTYMOUTH?”

Well, it’s not like that was too much to ask — and a far better alternative than being sent into the Grouchland Dump. So, the three of them took deep breaths, looked at one another, and knew the perfect song to demonstrate their proof. Only thing time, in the slightly lower register of F instead of the usual G, and with Rumi providing vocals as Mira and Zoey harmonized in an acapella style, the familiar tones of their biggest song echoed throughout the street as the glow of the Honmoon shone beneath them.

“No more hiding!”

“I’ll be shining!”

“Like I’m born to be!”

“We dreaming hard,”

“We came so far!”

“Now I believeeeee!”

Well, there was no doubt about it any longer. This really was HUNTR/X! “IT IS YOU!” exclaimed the Grouch over the loudspeakers. “YOU REALLY ARE THOSE K-POP DEMON HUNTERS!”

“Uh… obviously!” Mira snarked. “Like we’ve been trying to tell you for the last few minutes!”

Sheepishly, Oscar replied, “HEH. YEAH, SORRY ABOUT THAT. WE’RE ALL KIND OF ON EDGE HERE. YOU KNOW, BEING ATTACKED BY BAD GUYS AND ALL. SO YOU REALLY DID COME ALL THIS WAY TO HELP OUT?”

“Yes,” Rumi nodded affirmatively. “After what we saw… we couldn’t just leave you to fend on your own. So we’re bringing the Honmoon to you — and a promise. You won’t ever have to face this alone. No matter what, we will be there for you.”

One could almost hear joy coming out of Oscar’s voice as he turned off the speakers and stuck his head out of his trash can. “You really do mean it… hey! Guys! It’s ok! These people are friends!” And with that, doors began to open — and some very curious Muppets began to come out.

“It really is them!”

“I count three! THREE K-Pop singers! Ah-ah-ah!”

“Yay! It’s HUNTR/X! Elmo heard their music so many times!”

“Well, what do you know, Ernie?”

It almost seemed too good to be true. With Aki wounded and in the care of a stranger (if he was even still alive), Superman still in Jarhanpur, and Oscar very wary of Xanatos, it seemed like help wasn’t coming. The Avengers were gone, New York was in the midst of a political feud, and Trump clearly didn’t care… so to the denizens of Sesame Street, this was a godsend. In fact, this prospect was most exciting to an extremely fuzzy blue Muppet in particular, as Cookie Monster scurried up to the girls.

“Hiya!” said Cookie Monster to Rumi, Mira, and Zoey. “Me so excited because me finally get to meet me heroes!” The trio smiled, sensing that they’d gotten into their first promo for the show, but it was considered quite an honor to be in an official Sesame Street promo in any capacity. “Yes! Me even consider meself the fourth member of the K-Pop Cookie Hunters! Yeah!”

Chuckling in amusement, Rumi said, “Uh, Cookie Monster? We’re the K-Pop Demon Hunters, not cookie hunters!” Even Mira was cracking up super hard, as she and Zoey were just barely maintaining their composure. 

“Wait a minute,” a seemingly confused Cookie Monster said. “So you not hunt for cookies and save the world one snacks at a time?”

Somewhat bluntly, though much more toned down given the setting, Mira replied, “No.”

“But what about your hit song?” Suddenly, a familiar beat lay down, although Cookie wasn’t quite singing the right lyrics. 

“We’re eating up, up, up!”

“It’s our moment!”

“You know together we’re snacking!”

“Love it!” Rumi said as the girls bopped along.

“Gonna be golden cookie!”

“Yeah!” Mira said.

“Sing it!” Rumi added.

Innocently and in a joking tone, Zoey said, “Those aren’t the words!”

“You sure?” Cookie Monster asked as he pulled out a cookie –- a golden one, to be more specific. “Well, then what should me do with this golden cookie?”

Mira replied, “You could eat it.” The blue Muppet’s jaw dropped wide open upon hearing that suggestion.

“Me like your style! K-Pop Cookie Hunter!” And within seconds, he had that cookie outright consumed like nobody’s business, much to HUNTR/X’s amusement.

Mira chuckled in fake shock and said, “Okay!”

“Wow, eat it!” Rumi cheered him on.

“Yes, eat it!” added Zoey as she was barely containing her laughter.

Rumi then said, “We know that cookies are your favorite, Cookie Monster, but have you ever tried our favorite pre-show food, Ramyeon?”

“No, but me would love to give that try!” The girls were just about to hand him a bowl of Nongshim ramyeon, but Cookie, being the silly glutton that he was, just ate his raw and left a big mess all over the place! As the girls laughed, Cookie said without a hint of irony, “It a little dry.”

Zoey replied, “You’re supposed to eat it with water!”

“Oh, now you tell me!” Zoey quickly fell over on the ground, laughing probably the hardest she ever could, as Cookie Monster asked, “Could me get some milk?”

As the girls kept laughing, Rumi said, “Milk, not milk.”

“Water!” Zoey said as she got herself up. 

“Water?” Cookie Monster clarified. “Forget the milk!”

Mira confirmed the recipe by saying, “There’s no milk, no milk.”

“No milk!” Zoey once again reminded the little blue fuzzball. But thankfully, given that the trio had made plenty of ramyeon for their shows, they quickly made him up a hot bowl in exactly three minutes. 

“Mmmm! Smells yummy! And a lot less dry!” he exclaimed before he messily consumed the bowl once more. Even the rest of the Muppets, who were used to Cookie’s antics, were bawling with laughter at their cohort trying something new. But once he sucked up the last noodle, he exclaimed, “Yummy! Me like ramyeon!”

As they chortled some more, Rumi got an idea. “You know, Cookie Monster, now that you’ve gotten all warmed up with a pre-show snack, maybe we could teach you the lyrics of how our song goes?”

“Does this mean… There is another golden cookie?” Cookie Monster asked in excitement. 

Mira joked, “Wow, you seriously got an appetite! I gotta wonder if we need a second ramyeon bowl for you!”

“But since we brought up 'Golden'...” As if right on cue, Zoey’s words started something. Nearby, six strange-looking Muppets who looked more like a rock band started playing the instrumentals of the girls’ most famous song, and Zoey was quick to recognize them. “NO WAY! THE ELECTRIC MAYHEM?!”

Yep, it was ol’ Doctor Teeth and The Electric Mayhem themselves – veterans of the Street, now having long moved on with The Muppets under Disney’s banner. “Don’t start gawkin’, girly!” the man (er, Muppet) himself said, recognizable by his namesake funny teeth and top hat. “Start harmonizing!”

“Welp, you heard him!” Rumi replied as she and the others let their choreography practice kick in for their performances. It had been some time since they did a spontaneous musical number, but the natural sound made quite a difference compared to a usual stage. Taking their cues from that one time Stevie Wonder led a 7-minute, balls-to-the-wall jam session on the Street to his hit “Superstition” in 1973, HUNTR/X were ready to give it their all and create a magical moment. Again in the key of F, Rumi led off. 

“I was a ghost, I was alone,”

“Eoduwojin. Apgilsoge. (Hah)”

“Given the throne, I didn't know how to believe (Hah)”

“I was the queen that I'm meant to be! (Ah)”

It was certainly not quite the same tones that HUNTR/X was used to. Instead of the typical synthesizers and drum machines, this was an American rock/jazz band – a blend of two worlds and three genres, all united in a singular purpose. But as the Honmoon began to slowly form over the street, another instrument quietly joined in.

Zoey turned her head and saw a familiar green frog playing a banjo! KERMIT! But even through her excitement, she had to focus on the performance and let the playing frogs play, so she carried out her part of the song with gusto.

“I lived two lives, tried to play both sides,”

“But I couldn't find my own place! (Oh, oh)”

Next entered Mira, somewhat amused at her cohort clearly trying not to have a major geek-out.

“Called a problem child, 'cause I got too wild!

“But now that's how I'm getting paid! Kkeuteopsi on stage!”

Rumi returned to the lead as Animal drummed along, and Dr. Teeth, Floyd Pepper, and Janice provided background vocals. “I'm done hidin', now I'm shinin',”

“Like I'm born to be!”

“We dreamin' hard, we came so far,”

“...And we’re somehow guests on Sesame Street!” And all three girls chuckled at Rumi’s bit of improv.

The Muppets present on Sesame Street, joined by their visiting old friends from Disney, joined hands as old and new members alike bopped their heads along underneath the Honmoon’s glow.

“We're goin' up, up, up,”

“It's our moment!”

“You know together we're glowing!”

“Gonna be, gonna be goldеn!”

"Heh, reminds me of '73,” Oscar said, his trademark grouchiness having melted away while he saw Gonzo and his chickens helping a few of the newer denizens, like Murray, Abby Cadabby, and Julia, be able to watch the show. 

Cookie Monster nodded in agreement as he held a cup of ramoyen closely. "Yeah-yeah. Music change, but people's kindness stay the same!" Of course, he gulped down his meal a bit too fast to let it cool and set his mouth ablaze. "OHHH! HOT! HOT! TOO SPICY!"

“Oh, up, up, up,”

“With our voices!”

“Yeongwonhi kkaejil su еomneun!”

“Gonna be, gonna be golden!”

Somehow or another, a golden cookie spawned into the middle of the street, causing Cookie Monster to forget his heat-induced pain and drool. “AAAAAH! COOKIE! COOKIE!” Immediately, he chased right after it, as HUNTR/X and the combined musicians kept jamming out.

“Oh, I'm done hidin' now I'm shinin',”

“Like I'm born to be!”

“Oh, our time, no fears, no lies!”

“That's who we're born to be!”

Back in Washington, however, it was an entirely different story…

“Really, Mister President?” Fury snarled. “Of all the things you’re choosing to spend our tax dollars on, it’s spying on goddamn Sesame Street?”

But Trump brushed Fury’s criticisms off. “Eyyyy, relax, guy! I promised I would protect America from our greatest enemies, and that’s exactly what I’m doing!”

“Your detention of a threat seems to be a hell of a lot different than mine,” the director of S.H.I.E.L.D. snarked. “Very different.” As he saw HUNTR/X performing for the Muppets, he could see the rest of the Kult was fuming. Bondi was crushing her pen, Johnson was growling like a dog (heh, wonder if Makima had anything to do with that), Shupri’Coa was roaring like a madman, Vance was… ok, he was lying in intensive pain on the ground as his face had been clawed out. And he had a sneaking suspicion that Musk was busy making more AI smut, this time with Rumi, Mira, and Zoey.

But it was Thiel’s reaction that caught his attention the most. If anything, Thiel looked utterly distraught with terror. “M — miliord… it’s”

“PETER, I SWEAR, IF YOU SAY SOME SHIT ABOUT THE ANTI-CHRIST —“

“NO, MILORD!” Thiel tried to protest. “THE G**K! IT IS SHE! IT IS SHE WHO IS THE ANTI-CHRIST!”

Trump just stared at Thiel with such disbelief, he seemed about ready to burst out laughing. “Peter. Peter… I have heard a lot of shit coming out of your mouth — hell, all of you are full of shit and I don’t like any of you whatsoever. Hell, I think every last person in this ROOM sucks! Especially you, Elon!”

“So you keep reminding me…” Musk snarled as he just kept at his AI-generated smut.

Ignoring him this time, Trump continued on his latest tirade. “So you know what? I don’t care! I don’t care about the Anti-Christ! I don’t care about anything you say! What I do care about is the fact this filthy, woke n****r is telling me how horrible I am, and that NOT A SINGLE ONE OF YOU ARE DOING ANYTHING TO APTLY PUNISH HIM, OR THAT HORRIBLE CAT THAT JUST ATE BARNEY!”

“FORGIVE OUR TRANSGRESSIONS, O LORD TRUMP!” Most of the Kultists said in unison, with the exceptions of the uncaring Musk, the badly injured Vance, and, surprisingly, Thiel himself. Even Shupri’Coa whimpered like an injured dog as they said, “WE ARE NOT WORTHY! WE ARE NOT WORTHY!”

Fury just facepalmed and growled, “Motherfucker…” under his breath, causing Goose to burp in a major case of indigestion as Barney’s corpse died again of brain cancer — despite having no brain whatsoever — while the Flerken kept chasing the imps. All while Thiel… well, did something unexpected. 

“Lord Trump! I beseech you! This is serious! I only speak out of turn to protect you from the true threat against your – GACKH!”

He felt a giant tentacle grasp around his throat, as the Eldritch monster known as Shupri’Coa roared, “SILENCE… LORD… TRUMP… HAS… SPOKEN… ANTICHRIST… NO… MORE…”

“I HAVE TOLD YOU A THOUSAND TIMES — THERE IS NO ANTI —“ But before Trump could finish his rant, the glow of the Honmoon flew under Goose… even though New York was miles away from Washington. Needless to say, the glare of a sentient walking star confirmed it all as the Flerken started to cough, as if she was about to have a massive hairball. Except she didn’t spit up a hairball so much as she spat out a pile of purple guts, melted into a pure mush. Pain and Panic screamed in abject horror, as they saw what used to be Barney was now mixed with cat treats, skeletons that clearly weren’t the dino dumbass’s, and a few bits of digested alien. It was gonna be one hell of a mess to clean up.

But the imps' frustrations were nothing compared to those of Trump, who was starting to fume so much, his usual orange complexion was turning red. Literal steam was coming out of his head, and one could hear a boiling kettle as he suddenly leapt out of his seat. “THOSE TERRIBLE WOMEN! HOW COULD THEY DO THIS TO THE GREAT BARNABY – THE GREATEST GIFT HUMANITY HAS EVER RECEIVED – AND EXPECT TO GET AWAY WITH BEING SUCH HORRIBLE, HORRIBLE PEOPLE!”

“Jesus Christ…” Fury sighed. “Mister President, this has – “

“YOU SHUT THE HELL UP, YOU N****R!” Trump shouted in a seething rage. “THOSE WOMEN HAVE GONE TOO FAR AND DESERVE DEATH! HESGETH! TELL OUR ARMIES TO ATTACK WHOEVER THOSE PEOPLE ARE NOOOOOOOW!”

A drunken Hesgeth stupored out, “HIC… with – with pleaAAAAAASure Mi-mi-mi-milord! HEHEHEHEHEH! KILL THE URRRRRP! KILL THE C######S! ORDER THE… THE… THE ARMIES OF SIIIIIiiiiiiIIIIIISTERRRRRRRRP! Sister Noooooooooooooooooooooooooem to attack!”

“Well… I guess you gave me your answer…” Fury lamented to himself as he discreetly began texting Coulson.

“Breakaway Protocol is in effect."

To Be Continued…

Chapter Text

Back on Sesame Street, Cookie Monster kept chasing the golden cookie, as the music quieted down to allow Rumi to belt out her solo.

“Waited so long to break these walls down!”

“To wake up and feel like me!”

“Put these patterns all in the past now!”

“And finally live like the girl they all see!”

“No more hiding, I'll be shining!”

“Like I'm born to be!”

“'Cause we are hunters, voices strong,”

“And I know I believe!”

An intense wave of Honmoon energy spread out, having enveloped nearly half the Street as all three girls poured out their hearts, their goal ever closer.

“We’re goin’ up, up, up, it’s our moment,”

“You know together we’re glowing,”

“Gonna be, gonna be golden,”

“COOKIE! COME BACK, COOKIE!” Cookie Monster shouted as his chase continued, though he was but moments away from obtaining his coveted prize.

“Oh, up, up, up, with our voices,”

“Yeongwonhi kkaejil su eobneun,”

“Gonna be, gonna be golden,”

“Oh, I'm done hidin' now I'm shinin',”

“Like I'm born to be!”

“Oh, our time, no fears, no lies – 

But the music was interrupted. By GUNSHOTS! A bullet whizzed near Rumi's head and immediately shattered the glass of a nearby window, stopping the Electric Mayhem. “Hey, what the heck, man?” Sgt. Floyd Pepper said as he nearly dropped his instrument. And to make matters worse, a large boot stomped on the Golden Cookie, much to Cookie Monster’s horror. 

“Quick, get behind me!” Rumi shouted as she immediately drew her sword to guard the band, while Mira and Zoey drew their own weapons and urged the Sesame Street denizens to rush to their position if the shooter kept at it. Her eyes were darting towards the entry to the street, looking for the potential perpetrator. 

With her own eyes focused on the windows of the buildings, Mira exclaimed, “Where the heck are they?”

“Oh, god, please tell me they didn’t hire out a contract killer to finish the job?!” said Zoey as she was trying to remain as calm as possible despite the danger. Demons were one thing, but live bullets were a whole other mess. Lord help if the villains chose somebody like Deathstroke to finish the job of wiping out Sesame Street.

Fortunately, it wasn’t the infamous “Terminator”. Unfortunately, it was a whole slew of people dressed in the outfits of the KKK, accompanied by… ICE agents? And at the head of the pack was some hideous-looking woman covered head to toe in KKK themed SWAT gear, her animation just as jittery and papery as Thiel’s. “Dammit, I missed!”

“Just who are you?!” Rumi growled as she held her sword out, only to be met with the cocking of a couple of dozen guns. 

Smugly, this South Park-styled Kultist snarled, “I AM BUT THE LORD TRUMP’S MOST FAITHFUL OF SERVANTS, KRISTI NOEM! PRAISE BE TO HIS NAME!”

“Ronald Grump?” a confused Big Bird asked.

Oscar quickly replied, "No! Donald Trump! He's like a way more evil version of Grump!"

“Wait… Donald TRUMP?!” Zoey’s innocent face shattered and gave way to something angry – like REALLY angry. Almost enough to rival THE HULK. Sure, Barney in Toronto set everyone off, but it was just like how Mira perceived that idiot dinosaur. Just like back when Yoon tried his little stunt in Korea…

Mira could see the literal fire in Zoey’s eyes. She remembered how devastated the poor girl was when the election results came in, and Trump had somehow made a comeback despite his legal troubles. How Kamala Harris gave up months into a strong lead and let the man with 34 guilty counts against him retake the White House. It honestly broke Zoey, who had hoped something would have been done. Immediately, she tried rushing over to calm her down. “Zoey, look at me. Look at me, ok?”

“LO, PRAISE THE LORD TRUMP!” the Kultists yelled in unison as they kept stomping all over the remnants of the Golden Cookie. 

As poor Cookie Monster shed tears, Noem laughed at his misfortune. “HAH! LET THAT BE A LESSON TO YOU FOR CORRUPTING OUR KIDS WITH YOUR PROPAGANDA!”

“You.. YOU MONSTER!” Zoey yelled out. “They just want to be left alone! Can’t you respect that?!”

Noem chuckled again and said, “You g**ks don’t get it! What He wills, He commands! All answer to Him, and if He deems you an enemy, you perish as such! THAT’S THE WAY OF THE GREAT LORD DONALD TRUMP!”

“Oh, brother…” Oscar growled. “Just another group of bullies! Hey! Get off our Street right this instant! You have no right to be here!”

Noem shouted back, “BE SILENT, YOU FILTHY WOKE LIBERAL! WHERE HE COMMANDS, WE GO! THE LAW IS HIS WORD ALONE!”

“Eesh, somebody didn’t take their sanity pills this morning,” Pepe the King Prawn joked under his breath to his friend, Rizzo. 

The rat likewise joked, “She clearly didn’t read a lawbook either. Hehehe…” But then he had this cold feeling that something else was there behind the Kultists. Perhaps wisely, he kept his head down, though fortunately, he was small enough that he couldn’t quite be seen.

“Now I don’t know what this is all about, but in case you haven’t noticed, we’re trying to help Sesame Street get back on its feet,” Rumi replied with an intense glare. “So I am asking you to leave them alone.”

Although she was slightly mortified, Noem tried glaring back with some sense of intimidation. “HAH! YOU THINK I’M SCARED OF SOME ASIAN C*** WITH PURPLE HAIR! I AM THE HEAD OF THE GREATEST ARM OF THE KU KLUX KULT – THE ARM OF THE LORD –”

“Alright, we get it, amkae!” Mira yelled. “Lord Trump this, Lord Trump that! Will you seriously shut up about that guy! He has nothing to do with this. Hell, why isn’t he helping these guys out when he’s the one who's supposed to be running this country?” Glares and shouts came from the Kultists, who took Mira’s blunt words as an insult.

“HERETIC!”

“TRAITOR!”

“BURN THE WITCH! BURN HER!”

“I’m not even from America, you idiots!” But all that got was more yelling from some very trigger-happy idiots – and even more intense glares from Zoey, who was snorting like a bull in pure anger. Steam was pouring out of her nose so powerfully, one might think she was about to charge.

But then, a sheepdog puppet walked on out, his tail intensely wagging, as he innocently approached Noem. “Oh, no! Barkley!” Big Bird yelled out in vain. “Stay away from her! She’s dangerous!” Alas, Barkley was a simple-minded pooch, as most dogs were. He didn’t quite understand that the crazed woman – herself sticking out quite horrendously against the backdrop of Sesame Street – was an unwelcome intruder. And Oscar had a gun pointed against his head directly, meaning that if he tried turning on the Grouch Fence and flushing the unwelcome visitors to the dump, he may not have lived long enough to even try.

Except even he couldn’t have acted fast enough to stop what came next. 

They called it “the shot heard round the world”. To students of history, this usually referred to the first bullet fired that forever changed the course of human events. Only twice had this moniker been applied: first to the Battle of Lexington in 1775 that started the American Revolution, and again to the assassination of Archduke Franz Ferdinand that saw World War I erupt in Europe. Not even the invasion of Fort Sumter that started the American Civil War, or the Nazi invasion of Poland in 1939 that started World War II, had this distinction. Today, however, history would mark a third true shot.

Without hesitation, Noem shot Barkley. 

It was as if time itself had stopped. Colors faded, faces permanently etched in horror at this cruel act. Even Deadpool fell silent from his usual narrative snark. Yeah, he probably knew this was coming, but…

The puppet sheepdog’s body hit the ground with a hard thud, barely given any time to process that his little life was now over and done with. Muppets and K-pop stars alike were gasping as silence fell over the whole neighborhood. Zoey snapped out of her rage as Big Bird ran up to his friend, begging – no, pleading that Noem had somehow missed. As if he were merely playing along to some silly game. His wings grasped the pooch, desperately trying to wake him up. But no movement came. In fact, nothing came at that moment but tears…

Elmo buried his face in his mother, trying to look away from what had transpired. Bert and Ernie held their heads in pure grief. The Electric Mayhem lowered their instruments in his honor, as the poor bird cried out to the sky, his pure sense of childlike wonder utterly shattered at that moment. And HUNTR/X… well, even they couldn’t believe what just happened. A pet dying was a tragedy, absolutely, but like this… not once would they have ever thought they’d see this happening before their eyes. 

“That… did she just…” Mira was genuinely too stunned from that to even respond. And Zoey’s eyes were welling up with tears instead of the prior flames. But Rumi… her patterns were beginning to glow a bright purple, her eyes starting to slightly change color. The side of herself she had hidden for so long was now rearing its ugly head, as purple shadows began to form beneath her.

But Noem didn’t care. She just picked up Barkley’s corpse, snatching it out of Big Bird’s wings, and held it up like a trophy – gallingly taking a selfie with it! “NOW THAT’S HOW YOU BRING LAW AND ORDER TO THIS NATION!”

“LO, PRAISE SISTER NOEM, THE LORD TRUMP’S RIGHT HAND OF JUSTICE!” chanted the Kult.

Noem chuckled once more as she said, “Damn right! And it’s all those g**ks’ fault, ain’t it?”

“Our fault?!” Zoey snapped out of her tears, her rage returning to her in full force. “OUR FAULT?! YOU’RE THE ONE WHO SHOT THAT DOG!”

But Noem brushed her off without a care. “YOU IDIOT! IF YOU HADN’T DEFIED HIS WILL AND BEEN HERE, I NEVER WOULD HAVE BEEN FORCED TO DO IT! THE LAW DECREES THAT ANY ACTION WE TAKE THAT RESULTS IN DEATH IS AUTOMATICALLY THE FAULT OF THE RESPONSIBLE PARTY!”

“The law…” Uh-oh. Rumi’s voice had suddenly gotten a lot more demonic in tone – and Mira and Zoey knew what that meant. The two of them got deathly worried at what their friend was about to unleash, justified as she may have been at the moment. And right now, Rumi’s tone was as cold as the peak of Mount Everest itself. “You think you’re the law? You think that because you have all the power, you can just… bully whoever you want into submission? Kill anyone who doesn’t agree with you?”

Noem was starting to get nervous, but she didn’t falter in her conviction. “Clearly, you fail to understand! You have made an enemy of His Lordship. Ergo, yes. YOU’RE ABSOLUTELY RIGHT! WE CAN DO WHATEVER HE SO DEEMS!”

“If that’s what you think… then you don’t understand what it means at all…” Rumi’s hand… it was beginning to turn more demonic by the second. This darker half was about to be unleashed, and frankly, it would spell utter doom for the Kult. But it would also mean that Rumi would have blood on her hands – not demon blood, human blood. After embracing this side of herself, Rumi swore she wouldn’t use this power to harm innocent souls. But nothing these guys were doing screamed of innocence… already in her mind, she was planning to take them somewhere dark. Somewhere where the younger Muppets couldn’t see what she intended to do. If they intended to disregard innocent life, she felt as if she had no choice.

Except then someone else interrupted. “She’s right.” Her charge stopped – and she turned around to see that somehow, someone else had snuck into this whole mess. Someone wearing a grey suit, carrying a walking stick, and red-tinted glasses. Blind in sight, but clear in his apparent mission.

“Uh… who are you, exactly?” Mira asked in utter confusion, wondering just when this guy had time to get inside Sesame Street.

But this stranger simply clasped his hands over his walking stick and said, “Just a passerby. And a lawyer. So, do you mind telling me why there’s an armed force currently in the middle of Sesame Street?”

“Oh, so this blind r****d just walks on in and starts asking questions, huh?” Noem said as she held up her gun right to his face. “Who the hell do you think you are questioning His wisdom?”

This lawyer didn’t even flinch. Hell, none of the Muppets or HUNTR/X saw him sweat even a little. He just stood there, calmly, and said, “You’ll forgive me if I have my skepticism, but if I recall my news reports correctly, the NYPD was in the midst of a spat with Mayor Peck and refusing to handle the crisis that occurred yesterday. So I assume that 10 § 12406 has been invoked by Washington?” 

“Uh……….” It was like a switch had been flicked in Noem’s brain. The very code stipulated that the President had the authority to call the National Guard in the event of an attack, since it was spelt out in the Constitution that any invasions had to be repelled. Just one problem: the Kult wasn’t the national guard, nor was it ICE, and the invasion was yesterday.

The lawyer seemed to have gotten something started, as he then said, “I mean, better late than never, but I assume you have food and supplies for these puppets? Or are you not the National Guard?” 

“Well, actually…”

“I see… so you’re only pretending to be members of the military.” The lawyer clasped his walking stick further and said, “Which means that you’re violating 10 § 906 of the Uniform Military Code of Justice.”

Noem got incensed and yelled, “We are the long arm of The Lord Trump! What he commands – “

“Requires a warrant to invade private property if a crime is suspected,” he countered. “That means NY Penal Law § 140.05, a Fourth Amendment Violation, breaking 18 USC § 912 and 913 since we both know that Mister Trump’s claims of his own private army are not formally recognized under any charter –”

Noem yelled, “THE LAW IS WHAT HE – “

“And last, but certainly not least, breaking the PACT act, unless that’s not a dead dog lying in the street that I smell.” Coldly, he pointed towards Barkley’s corpse, as poor Big Bird was still mourning over his dead friend. “Now, Miss, I don’t presume to make a judgment, but as a lawyer, I am obligated to report a crime in progress – and what I just listed is at the bare minimum of the potential charges you can be facing.”

As the Muppets glared on in confusion, Zoey said, “Wow, this guy means business!”

“Of all the guys that happened to be walking by, it was a lawyer…” Rumi said as she calmed down, finally, her demonic side quietly fading away. But it was funny; at that very moment, she felt as if there was the presence of a demon of some kind. The lawyer didn’t have any markings, but there seemed to be his own darker side hiding within him, waiting to be unleashed. 

Yet Noem remained wholeheartedly defiant. “You idiot! You think we give a damn about the laws of pathetic, woke liberals like you? The law is what The Lord Trump deems it so! Whatever you claim, He’ll just overrule you!”

“I think you seem to forget that I have friends in a lot higher places than our current president, miss,” the lawyer confidently boasted. “In fact, it’d be a shame if I had to call them; their jurisdiction is a lot bigger. And most importantly, they’re a lot more efficient about sentencing.”

Nearby, Ernie said, “Yeah! You tell ‘em, lawyer guy!”

“Does he look familiar to you?” Bert asked his roommate. “I swear, I saw him on TV once.”

Well, it’s not like it mattered much at the moment whether Bert saw this guy or not. If anything, the Kult was starting to hesitate. They’d been ordered to get rid of HUNTR/X, but now this lawyer showed up, and he clearly wasn’t bluffing about calling someone with a lot more authority. Now fully calmed down, Rumi walked up and said, “I don’t care what power you think you have. Sesame Street is not yours to touch. Leave these people in peace.” And for once, the Kult seemed to finally stand down, if only because they had no idea what to do.

“Couldn’t have put it better myself,” said the lawyer. “Oh, uh, by the way, you do have a very nice singing voice. You’re the K-Pop group, right? HUNTR/X?”

Surprised he recognized her by her voice, Rumi said, “Yeah! Are you a fan?”

“I’m afraid it’s not quite to my taste, but uh… I do have some friends who enjoy it,” he replied. “There’s a couple of ‘interns’ at the firm who can’t stop jamming along on their off hours. It’s kinda grown on me.”

Smiling, it gave Rumi an idea. “Oh, hey! Once we get this mess cleaned up, maybe we could swing by and say hello?”

“Sure, I’d think they’d like that,” the lawyer replied before he realized he forgot to introduce himself. “Oh, by the way, the name’s Matt. Matt Murdock.” He stretched out his hand as Rumi shook it in response, Mira, Zoey, and the present Muppets breathing a sigh of relief… though it certainly didn’t stop the Kult’s confusion.

“Uh… Sister Noem? The hell are we supposed to do?” One Kultist asked.

Another said, “Yeah! This guy’s clearly a problem! Should we just kill them all?”

“YOU IDIOTS!” she growled, “We don’t do shit until we confirm with His Lordship what to do next! Don’t you know the sacred creed? ‘Thou Must Obey All Commands”! As the Kultist sheepishly rested his arm behind his head, Noem opened her phone and yelled, “Lord Hegseth! We have a problem!”

Back in Washington, Fury chuckled as he saw the whole thing play out. Shoulda known Coulson woulda called in our friend… he thought to himself. 

Amongst attorneys, one of the most well recognized was Matthew Murdock, a criminal defense lawyer by trade. And unlike most in his field, he tended to win cases far more often than not. There was just something about him that let him read rooms of witnesses, juries, judges, prosecutors, and the like as if they were open books. And then there was his uncanny knack of being in the right place at the right time.

What most folks didn’t know was that Matt’s gift was an accident — quite literally, as he pushed an old man out of the way of an oncoming truck, only for the chemicals to strike him in the eyes and leave him without sight. Yet in doing so, his other senses became enhanced, almost like a radar that let him “see” what others couldn’t, hear what others failed to pick up on, and detect if people were being honest by their own heartbeat. It made him a living lie detector, which helped him get juries in the palm of his hand (eh, usually, one of his cases involving Frank Castle didn’t go so well, to say the least). 

But even less known was that he had another life beyond just being a “really good lawyer”. He quickly came to learn that justice couldn’t always be found in the light, as rot and corruption lay deep in the system. And when it failed, the devil in him was let out in all its fury. 

Fortunately, the Kultists didn’t have to face that side of Matt today. Or at least, that was the hope. And even if that was the case, Trump was in the process of cradling the goop that was Barney in his arms, crying his eyes out. “WHY DID THIS HAVE TO HAPPEN TO BARNEY? HE WAS THE GREATEST THING EVER MADE!”

“SAINT… BARNABAS… WORTHY… SON…” growled Shupri’Coa, who let out a mournful rage. 

Trump continued to ugly cry as he declared, “THOSE STUPID ASIAN WOMEN ARE GONNA PAY FOR THIS! WHY HAVEN’T THEY BEEN SHOT?! WHY AREN’T THEY LYING DEAD IN THE STREETS?!”

“Uh… Mi–milord?” A drunken Hesgeth slurred out. “T-t-t-t-t-t-the men… they’re…they’re… they ’UUUURP! Some lawyerrrrr… he’s he-he-he-he! He’s makin’ legal threats!”

Snapping out of his mourning, Trump said, “Are you stupid?! ARE YOU STUPID?! I TOLD THEM JUST KILL THEM ALREADY! WHO GIVES A FUCK ABOUT THE LAW?!”

“The kind of people like me, ‘Mister President, ’” Fury said as he picked up Goose. “In fact, I had a feelin’ you’d be your usual dumbass self today. Which is why S.H.I.E.L.D. kindly asked someone to keep an eye out on an enemy nation.”

Silence fell over the room. At least until Bondi shot off her mouth. “Like, excuse me?! Your stupid n****r club works for us, you total dumbass!”

“Not anymore.”

Elon slapped down his tablet and asked, “What did you say?”

“You heard me, bitch. High as you might be, your ears are still workin’. But in case you missed it, let me give it to you straight: as of this moment forth, the United States Government has demonstrated, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that it is no longer functioning in a way that serves the greater good and purpose of S.H.I.E.L.D. As such, it is my pleasure to inform you that I have enacted the Breakaway Protocol. Which means that as of this moment, the organization will no longer answer to you or anyone else who served, will serve, or has served in this administration.”

A sudden cold air came in over the room, like the very fabric of time and space had fallen apart. Fury openly declaring S.H.I.E.L.D. would no longer work for America, let alone with Trump in charge? Hell, even going so far as to state that America was the enemy? It seemed the deepest insult possible. Trump even threw out the Barney guts and tried to get up in Fury’s face. “You wouldn’t dare…”

“Except I did,” Fury said as his own glare caused Trump to cower down before Barney’s remains once more. “And the only way I will walk back that decision is when you not only call off your troops and apologize to Sesame Street for this little stunt, but you immediately resign from office and turn yourselves into our custody to face trial. Obviously, the current courts aren’t all that trustworthy.” He glared at Shupri’Coa itself, who actually got scared enough that a deceased, seventh skull was on the verge of being spat out, looking suspiciously like Antonin Scalia.

But Bondi tried one last little act of defiance. ”Like, how dare a n****r like you speak to the Lord Trump in such a —“ 

“And if you interrupt me one more goddamn time, I will consider you an accessory to murder!” Fury yelled. “In which case, your ass will be hauled off to The Raft without trial on charges of treason! So I would choose very carefully what you say next.” Frightened, Bondi whimpered and started crying, while Fury’s eye looked right at Trump. “So, what’s it gonna be?”

Trump was actually too frightened to respond. As he lay inside the pool that was Barney (much to Pain and Panic’s utter horror, since now they’d have even more of a mess to clean up), what was left of his brain started to churn. He couldn’t think of a way out – Fury had him dead to rights, and frankly, his little Kult was too cowardly… no, too stupid to face him head on. 

Well, too stupid played a role in Thiel sneaking up to him, as Trump said, “Peter, please don’t…” Except then, Thiel showed the footage of Rumi threatening Noem… in her demon form. 

“Lord Trump, I bring thee indisputable evidence! The Anti-Christ is indeed upon us! Look at how she embraces her evil form! She is the one – the one who destroys your glorious reign and unleashes an age of chaos! The communists will usher her in and ensure your name is erased from the annals of history!”

For a moment, Trump looked up at the image of Rumi’s darker half… and just brushed it off. “Peter, seriously, I don’t care.”

“But thou does not see what she is! Look at what chaos she has unleashed in the last hour!”

“I said I don’t care!”

“LORD TRUMP, HEAR ME! YOU ARE SITTING IN HER WORK!”

Now that got Trump’s attention. “Eh? What do you mean?”

“Milord, it is proven amongst 6 to 7 of our – “ Suddenly, the raucous laughter of Eric Cartman could be heard as he vomited upon hearing the latest memetic trend, somehow being in the White House with Thiel. “Er… forgive me, Lord Trump. The boy was found with me after –”

“Who gives a shit?” Trump yelled. “What. Do. You. Mean?”

Smiling, Thiel said, “Lord Trump, the Anti-Christ possesses many unholy gifts. One of them is the ability to spread a barrier of wokeness she calls “The Honmoon.” And it kills all who support your way – especially that of Saint Barnabas.”

“You mean to tell me… they… kill… BARNEY?!” Fury was beginning to facepalm hard as Trump was literally foaming at the mouth. “THOSE RADICAL WOKE FEMINISTS HAVE THE POWER TO DESTROY THE GREATEST THING MANKIND HAS EVER CREATED, AND YOU DIDN’T THINK TO TELL ME THIS EARLIER?!”

Grinning from ear to ear now that his point had been made, Thiel bragged, “Oh, forgive me for my insolence, Lord Trump, but the truth is now here! HUNTR/X harbors the Antichrist, and so long as they exist, they will continue to destroy Saint Barnabas without question!”

“THEN I ISSUE AN EXECUTIVE ORDER!” Trump yelled. “HUNTR/X IS BANNED FROM THE UNITED STATES FOREVER! THIS I COMMAND!”

As Hesgeth drunkenly texted off the orders, Shupri’Coa declared, “SO… SPEAKS… LORD… TRUMP… HIS… WORD… FINAL…”

“Mister President…” Fury growled.

But Trump yelled, “AND ARREST THIS TRAITOR WHILE YOU’RE AT IT! HELL, I ORDER THIS SHIELD OR WHATEVER THE HELL IT’S CALLED BE SHUT DOWN IMMEDIATELY! I WANT IT ALL GONE! DEAD! BURN IT TO THE GROUND! DO YOU HEAR ME?!”

Except for Musk and the injured Vance, the Kultists got up to try and corner Fury, stupidly thinking they had the manpower to rush him. But Fury always did come prepared… “You know, I heard somewhere along the line you’d been secretly looking for superweapons. As it so happens… GOOSE!” The Flerken then spat out… no, it couldn’t be!

The Casket Of Ancient Winters!

Turning their attention away from the Director of S.H.I.E.L.D., the Kultists immediately sprang for the ancient artifact, itself the very source of power for the Jotunheim (aka the Frost Giants) that would allow them to unleash an eternal winter upon the planet. But why would Fury just hand off such a dangerous weapon to them? And how’d he get it out of Asgard?

“I GOT IT!” Vought yelled as he jumped for it.

“NAY! THIS GLORY SHALL BE MINE!” boasted Miller.

“You like, totally got it all wrong!” Bondi exclaimed. “This honor belongs to me!” 

But as the Kultists were fighting over it, Fury quietly snuck out of the room, muttering, “Heh. Like vultures to a fresh kill.” He silently shut the door and casually walked out with Goose in his arms – as the “Casket” detonated and turned the meeting room frozen solid! 

“WE’VE BEEN TRICKED!” Trump yelled. “THAT CASKET WAS A FAKE! YOU IDIOTS! HOW DID YOU NOT KNOW THIS?!” It’s not like Fury cared, though. He was just glad to be out of there. Nor was he stupid enough to hand off a superweapon to a madman like Trump.

As he stroked Goose’s neck, he chuckled, “Remind me to thank the Snow Queen for helpin’ with that next time I see her. Now, I think you and I have something to tend to back home…”

For the last minute or two, the Muppets had been sitting silent, waiting to see what the crazies in the hoods would do next. All they seemed to be doing was paying attention to Noem’s phone, waiting for instructions that sounded like they were being given by some drunk (not that the elder Muppets would share that readily with young Elmo). Still, HUNTR/X was holding their ground just in case they got the itch to fire their trigger fingers. And this Matt Murdock guy… well, he was just standing there silently, as if his attention was honed in on the Kultists.

“Oscar?” Elmo asked. “Are those hooded guys going to hurt us?”

Solemnly, Oscar replied, “I think they might, kid. Elmo, you might wanna go back inside, just in case.”

“But Elmo can’t leave his friends!” the young Muppet said. “You saw what they did to… to poor Barkley.”

The Grouch could only sigh mournfully as he told his young charge, “And I couldn’t live with myself if they did the same to you. So do me a solid, ok? Please go inside and take cover. Lock the doors and hide somewhere safe. However this turns out, I ain’t lettin’ ya get hurt.” Reluctantly, Elmo complied, as he looked solemnly out on the street. For some reason, his young mind was deathly worried he wouldn’t be seeing his friends again.

“Poor Elmo…” Grover lamented. “How’d the poor kid have to see all this happen in just two days?”

Oscar could only shake his head as he said, “Because grown-ups can be rotten sometimes. And he had to learn that the hard way.” The truth was, Oscar had seen the vitriolic reactions Elmo’s mere existence had caused outside the street – grown-ups wanted him out, while kids loved him. He just didn’t have the heart to tell Elmo, lest the boy internalize the idea that this was somehow all his fault. 

Nearby, with HUNTR/X’s weapons gripped tightly in their hands, the girls were on edge. Very on edge. Rumi had even taken the precaution to let Bobby know that things were going horribly at Sesame Street because of these guys. If he didn’t hear from them in a bit, he was under instructions to jet back to Korea and inform Celine of what occurred. Even with the possibility that she may have to train replacements…

“Ohhh, what are those guys doing over there?” Zoey asked in a whisper. “Can’t we just take them out?”

Matt whispered, “I wouldn’t. Not with this many people around. Stray bullets and angry armies tend to make for a lot of casualties.”

“Sounds like you’ve got a lot of experience,” Mira whispered as she held her gok-do tightly.

Matt slyly replied, “I’m from Hell’s Kitchen. You’d be surprised what happens there.” But then, he honed in on Noem’s heartbeat as she was reading a text… and heard it begin to beat even quicker from excitement. “Brace yourselves. They’re coming back.”

“How did you – “ Before Rumi could even finish asking, the Kultists began to walk over. She didn’t have time to process such a lucky guess, as Noem was grinning from ear to ear. “Well? Are you going to leave, or do we have to make you?”

Her heartless eyes gazed upon Rumi. Noem yelled, “ANTI-CHRIST, HEAR ME!”

“Anti-Christ?!” the HUNTR/X trio asked in unison.

Noem continued by saying, “You have spread your unholy ways upon His sacred land for the last time! For your crime of existing, The Lord Trump: He Who Is Most Holy, has decreed that you are permanently banned from these United States!”

“Wha… what?” Rumi uttered in shock. “Banned?!”

Mira glared right at Noem and shouted, “What the hell do you mean banned?!”

“You heard me!” Noem boasted. “By His Word, the Anti-Christ and her followers no longer can set foot on this soil, lest they face the Wrath of Donald Almighty!”

The Kultists yelled in unison, “PRAISE TO HIS NAME!”

“But… but our fans… the Honmoon… everything we’ve been working for!” Rumi protested. “You can’t take that!”

Zoey, who was stung by this news the most, shouted, “I AM AMERICAN! I LIVED HERE MOST OF MY LIFE!”

“HAHAHAHAH! FOOOOL! You were born a g**k, you’ll die a g**k, and only your fleas will mourn you!” The insult pushed Zoey beyond her limit, as her face lit up with enough rage to melt through solid titanium.

Sensing a fight, Matt tried to intervene. “Alright, I think we both know you’re overstepping your boundaries here, so – “ Except then one of the Kultists jammed a gun right in his face.

“SHUT THE HELL UP, YOU BLIND WEAKLING!” 

He could hear his own heart racing. He knew what was coming… that same urge, that same call that came in when night fell – when justice failed. “You really don’t want to do this,” he warned. 

“Yeah, I think I DO!” replied the Kultist. “In fact, I think I’d love to smash your face in on the pavement! Make your mouth match your eyes! HAHAHAHA!” Matt’s heart continued to race, the urge to let his alter ego out growing stronger by the second. But he couldn’t. Not here. Not when there were too many people, especially if someone was able to put two and two together. If they knew, everything he had worked for would come under fire. His mission would end as quickly as it began…

Fortunately, another kind of devil was unleashed that day – pure, unbridled wrath from Zoey, who threw her shin-kal with such force at the gun that it shattered it to pieces. The guy was so caught off guard that he barely had time to register the hard kick smashing in his face, knocking him with such force that he slammed right into a telephone pole with a hard thud. 

There was no sense in talking Zoey down now. Not in the least because their lives were on the line. 

Mira drew her gok-do and used it to disarm the nearest Kultist, yelling, “EVERYONE, GET INSIDE!” at the Sesame Street denizens to clear out. She quickly kicked the guy into another, while throwing her weapon at a third before he could shoot Big Bird. 

“YOU TRAITORS!” Noem yelled. “KILL THEM! KILL THEM –” Except then she took a “HI-YAH!” straight to the head from a flying pig!

As she fell to the ground, she got a faceful of Miss Piggy herself, who said, “Alright, sister! You wanna talk? Talk to my fist! HI-YAH!” And she smacked the group leader right on the face… which somehow caused it to melt off and scurry away! Not that Piggy cared about this little trait from Noem’s recent mockery on South Park, since she was in no mood to sympathize with a glamour failure at someone trying to kill her friends.

Quickly, Rumi used her sword to disarm two more Kultists before jamming the stub end right into the foot of a third. In that moment, she punched him straight in the gut before flipping him over, turning her attention to three additional Kultists armed with M-16 rifles, and immediately had to duck for cover behind a flowerbed. But wood could only offer so much protection, so she had to send it flying to blind them with soil before they were hit by a flying Gonzo, himself shot out of a cannon. 

Matt was quietly escorting the younger Muppets to safety, giving no cause for his own well-being. Right now, their safety mattered more than his. But since he was now in the public eye, there was no other way to help fight them. One wrong move, and the whole world would know…

Fortunately, one of the Kultists who was about to aim got a face full of Zoey’s fist, followed up by Mira tripping his buddy before he could hit Bert. The two worked in tandem, back to back, deflecting and dodging bullets as nimble as they could. Their faces didn’t show it, but they were terrified right now. Especially Zoey, knowing she was now a wanted criminal in her own country. Their focus may have been on survival now, but they knew that this wouldn’t be over even if they didn’t survive.

Another Kultist found himself bitten on the arm by Rowlf, who was unleashing his inner dog and chomping down as hard as his teeth could to make the guy drop his gun, kicking his little legs in his groin while Rumi slammed another Kultist into a wall and knocked him out cold. Her eyes kept darting out for danger — and the slim chance that help would come along. At the moment, however, she had a gut feeling they were on their own.

“Gotcha…” a Kultist declared as he aimed his sniper scope right at Rumi… only to be met with the roar of a bear. And the razor-sharp claws of one, as he felt his insides being torn right out with such viciousness. But it wasn’t the pain that hurt the worst… 

“Looks like the pain is un-bearable! Eh? Eh? Wokka, wokka!” Ah, so it was the famous Fozzie Bear, purveyor of bad puns, although this time his tone indicated he was delivering such a joke on purpose this time. And to add further insult to injury, Zoey jammed one of her heels right into his open wounds, lifted his body, and threw him right at another group. 

One of the Kultists yelled, “DIE, YOU TRAITOR!” and carelessly emptied his magazine, trying to hit Zoey. Unfortunately for him, Zoey was far more nimble, and he wound up hitting one of his fellow Kultists right in the head. “NOOOOOOOO! WHAT DID YOU DO?!” he screamed out in anger as he tried to unload another magazine into the K-Pop star. 

While Rumi and Mira took down another group, Matt picked up on something as he got Grover into a building — something strangely unpleasant and eldritch-sounding in nature. Even in the midst of all the bullet fire and screaming muppets, his senses could hear the screechy voices of something he was becoming all too familiar with these days. “WAAAAAAAAH! STOP FIGHTING DA KUWTISTS! DON’T YOU WEALIZE DIS WIWW ONWY DAMAGE OUW WELATIONSHIPS WITH DEM??”

Warmbos…

“DIS IS AN OUTWAGE!” a female redhead Warmbo cried out. “HUNTW/X IS BANNED FROM DA UNITED STATES! DEY NEEDED TO ACCEPT DAT THIS WAS DA WAY OF THINGS, BUT DEY DIDN’T!”

Another Warmbo nodded vigorously in agreement. “Does nasty, nasty Kowean women desewve what dey get! Theiw singing is an offense to Wawmbokind! It keeps kiwwing us! And dey'we on da side of dose tewwowists fwom Jawhanpuw!”

“This nevew wouwd have happened if they voted fow Wawmbo Hawwis! THIS IS AWW DEIW FAUWT! Nobody listens to Warmbo Messing anymowe!” exclaimed that same redheaded Warmbo, whose screechy voice was sounding somewhat familiar – kind of like Debra Messing. But it didn’t matter to Matt. These things were actively getting in the way, and he needed them out fast. And luckily, he heard some skittering of rat feet in the middle of a dark alley. 

Thinking quickly, he threw his walking stick with such pinpoint precision, it stirred the rats from their slumber and caused them to start running around the alley. See, he’d heard of the Warmbos having an innate obsession with these things, and fortunately, that proved true at the very moment. “Wats? WAAAAATS! BWOTHEWS AND SISTEWS, DA WATS!”

“DA WATS! DA WATS! DA WATS!” Immediately, they all began skittering towards the dark alley along their many tiny legs, licking their lips with an intense expression on their felt faces. And as they made their way into the dark alley, Matt quietly excused himself to follow, taking advantage of everyone else being distracted to notice. “HOO-HOO, COME TO PAPA!” one of the Warmbos exclaimed as the sounds of something being projected from his body could be heard.

But fortunately for the reader’s ears, the Warmbos never got that chance. Instead, the only sounds coming out of that alley were the Devil being let out.

And just as fortunate on Sesame Street, the Kultists' numbers were thinning. As Kermit used his banjo to send another one of their number flying, HUNTR/X had circled up to handle the rest of them. “Only a few left!” Rumi shouted, “We almost got them!”

“Just barely!” Mira replied as she deflected more bullets. “Who knows if they have backup coming!”

Tossing her shin-kal, Zoey added, “Bring 'em on! I’ll take on the whole army if we can! No way am I letting that orange slimeball hurt you guys!”

“Except we can’t!” replied Rumi. “There’s only three of us!” And as she took down another Kultist, something else sank in — stopping this group was one thing, but if Trump sent the entire US military after them? He’d see fit that the rest of the planet would burn if they stayed here. And that wasn’t an exaggeration. 

Just then, a recovered Noem shouted, “AND IT’S ABOUT TO BE ZERO!” The girls turned around and saw that she had Cookie Monster at gunpoint! “Now surrender! Or this freak dies!”

The trio could see the terrified look on the poor Muppet’s face. Even with all that had happened in the last day, he’d at least been lucky to avoid being killed. But now… now he was moments away from death’s door. He could barely muster a word, wanting to plead with his friends to save themselves. Even for someone like him, Cookie Monster knew a real monster like Noem wouldn’t keep her word. 

“You’re not gonna stop…” Rumi growled at the crazed Kultist. “You’ll never stop until you have your way! But we won’t let you!

Noem again laughed extremely hard. “YOU FOOLS! THE LORD TRUMP IS UNSTOPPABLE! HE IS INVINCIBLE! NO MATTER HOW HARD YOU FIGHT, HE WILL ALWAYS EMERGE TRIUMPHANT! HE IS ETERNAL! HE IS—“

“AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH! ANIMAL BASH HOOD LADY!”

Suddenly, this big mop of red fur with a big nose and no sanity – Animal – leapt onto Noem and started bashing his head on hers with the force of a truck. “HOOD LADY MAKE ANIMAL’S COUSIN, ELMO, SAD! YOU TRY TO HURT ANIMAL’S FRIENDS! ANIMAL MAD!” Without mercy, he began slamming her face repeatedly into a brick wall, causing her botox-injected face to fall flat off, along with her hood!

“AAAAAAAH! STOP! STOP!” she screamed, pleading for mercy where moments ago, she refused to offer it herself. Clearly, she wasn’t made of sterner stuff. “IT HURTS! IT HURTS!”

The way Animal was going, the three felt tempted to intervene – but only slightly. At the moment, Rumi, Mira, and Zoey had no sympathy for what Noem was going through. The only good news was that she was the last of the Kult left, and the drummer of the Electric Mayhem had her well in hand. But still… “It’s over…” Zoey said exhaustedly. 

“No,” Rumi replied through her own tiredness. “There’ll be more coming. And they won’t stop. They’ll tear this entire country apart to… to get to us.”

Mira growled, “Urrgh! That stupid Trump! Like, what did we ever do to him? And why does he think you’re the Anti-Christ?!” Honestly, Rumi herself wasn’t even sure, but she had a feeling it had something to do with her demonic half.

“Hey! You three!” Oscar shouted as he poked his head out of the trash can. “You need to get back to Korea! Quickly!”

Zoey quickly protested, “No! We made a promise to keep you safe! The Honmoon isn’t finished! We’re – “

“Not gonna do any good if that horrible Trump guy gets you first!” he quickly countered. “Don’t let him win! We’ll be ok!”

Rumi momentarily hesitated. She did promise that she and HUNTR/X would protect Sesame Street no matter what. And Rumi knew how hard it would hurt if she broke a promise. 

Except with the wrath of Trump on their backs, this was one promise she realized she couldn’t keep. If they stayed, there may not even be a Sesame Street left standing. 

The only assurances she got were from Oscar, who nodded that it was ok to go as he gestured towards the Grouch Fence controls in his trash can, and Matt, who walked out of the alley with bruised knuckles. With tears in her eyes, she somberly accepted that they had no choice in the matter. Instead, Rumi, Mira, and Zoey looked back at the once joyous street with solemnity and began to run. As fast as their legs could carry them, they pushed themselves as hard as possible to get back to JFK, where Bobby was waiting. 

No words needed to be said. They all knew what they were feeling at that moment, and it hurt almost worse than that day back during the Idol Awards, where they hit their lowest point. Except now they were all sharing in the misery that their whole world had just been upended once more, only this time it was far from better. This time, all of them were out there on their own…

As the Muppets watched as their saviors ran, silence kept its hold over the street. Elmo and the others who had hidden were slowly starting to emerge from their homes, utterly distraught at what had just happened. Ernie and Bert looked at one another, realizing they were caught off guard once more despite the presence of the K-Pop group, and could see their little felt hands had contributed little to helping protect their friends. As they lowered their heads in mourning while Big Bird returned to the deceased Barkley’s limp body, Matt pulled out his phone and dialed up someone, keeping a close eye on the unconscious Kultists to make sure they didn’t get up again. And Oscar, setting up the fence to make sure those freaks didn’t come back, kept looking out as Rumi, Mira, and Zoey disappeared into the sunset.

“Sorry, kids. This is one promise you couldn’t keep…”

To Be Continued…

Chapter Text

Several miles out of U.S. airspace, a singular S.H.I.E.L.D. Quinjet was flying its way out of Washington as fast as humanly possible – and for good reason. In the midst of all that mess back at the White House, Fury knew the moment those idiots got free from their ice prison, they’d immediately try to shoot him out of the sky. The only good thing was that it would be a while; scientists had studied the real Casket of Ancient Winters thoroughly with Thor’s permission to serve as the ultimate decoy, so it was virtually indistinguishable from the real thing. Ironically, it was all those porch pirate cases he’d heard about on the news that gave him the idea, except the “glitter bomb trap” was a special snow mixture whipped up by the former Queen of Arendelle herself. 

He had a sneaking suspicion he’d need it. Over these last few years, Trump has done nothing but openly brag that he’d make S.H.I.E.L.D. do what he wants or else. And today, the “or else” part came into effect. Thankfully, the fact that he’d also spent the last several years coveting dangerous superweapons also meant Fury had the perfect decoy ready. But truthfully, Fury was hoping he wouldn’t have to enact the Breakaway Protocol. All these years, and he never had to enact it until today.

No point in dwelling on it now, though. The hard call was made, and Trump blew his last chance and then some. Now, S.H.I.E.L.D. was acting on its own… and it was gonna need a hell of a lot more help. Coulson and Hill, at least, would already be taking care of that upon getting his message. They certainly didn’t waste time getting things done. It was the rest of the world he’d have to worry about now. 

So with Goose on his lap, he opened up his phone and made a call, several thousand miles away, only to be greeted with the visage of a raven-haired Japanese woman, ironically enough, in an eyepatch not unlike his own. “Heya, Fury. Boy, did you pick a fun time to call.”

“You look like shit, Ms. Himeno,” he snarked. “Lemme guess, another hot date between you and the whiskey?” Ah, so it wasn’t just any old contact he was reaching out to, but it was Himeno, another of the many Devil Hunters who once served under Public Safety Division 4 and Makima. And much like her cohorts, she was lucky enough to come back from the dead after she sacrificed herself to save Aki’s life. But it seems that old habits die hard…

Staggering up and looking pretty haggard, Himeno replied, “What can I say? It’s quite a fun relationship.” Fury didn’t seem the least bit amused, telling that his colleague had slept the night away, piss drunk. He wasn’t even going to guess what drove her to the bottle this time, though the fact she was hungover again didn’t surprise him in the slightest. 

“Well, let me know how it works out,” Fury joked. “In the meantime, I hope you’re not out of it enough to talk shop. We have a problem.”

Staggering out of bed, clad in her usual tank top and panties, but clearly on the verge of heaving out her guts, Himeno walked over to the table where a fresh pot of coffee was being brewed. “Do tell. Does it have something to do with my ex-boss? Way I heard it, she’s Empress of the Galaxy now.”

“She only thinks she is,” Fury replied. “And I fully intend to burst her bubble the moment the opportunity presents itself. But this ain’t it, Himeno. Hell, this is much worse.” Seeing Himeno take a seat at the table, guzzling down the pot like nobody’s business, Fury waited for her to finish before dropping the bombshell. “As of this moment, S.H.I.E.L.D. has enacted the Breakaway Protocol.”

Hearing that almost made Himeno gag. In all the years she knew Fury, he’d never once mentioned that he was going to enact that particular protocol, no matter how many times he discussed it with her. Normally this would have been cause to pick up another bottle, hangover or no, but… “Fury… you’re not serious.”

“Dead serious,” he sternly replied. “In fact, it’s because of Makima that this happened; the orange lump called ‘POTUS’ went off the handle during what was supposed to be a meeting to get him to look into Sesame Street. Instead, he’s made a K-pop group public enemy number one. And that’s not even gettin’ into the shit he did during said meeting.”

If this were anyone else, Himeno would have probably assumed this to be some sort of elaborate prank. But the one thing Nick Fury never did regarding intelligence reports was joke, not even a little. It almost made her miss having Denji and Power around, since those two never took things seriously off the clock. At least back then, it kept things lively. Of course, there was the fact that she used to work for a literal Horseman of the Apocalypse who was keen on taking over the world by force that made her unwilling to even consider a return to Public Safety. “Shit… looks like my nights just got booked. Sigh… I take it you already let S.H.I.E.L.D. know?”

“And only S.H.I.E.L.D. and you, if I might add,” replied Fury. “I trust Coulson and Hill to be discreet, but there’s far too many intelligence agencies I can’t count on to keep a lid on this. But the fact is, with Makima involved, F.U.J.I. has the most experience dealing with her, to say nothing of its director having a history.”

Chuckling, Himeno replied, “Well, what can I say? An ex-devil hunter in charge of the Federal Unilateral Japanese Intelligence organization had a nice ring to it. Looks good on the resume.” 

“Regardless, with Breakaway underway, shit’s about to get even uglier,” the director of S.H.I.E.L.D. said. “You know we’re outmanned, outgunned, and backup isn’t exactly a phone call or two away. We’re gonna need any hands we can spare, no matter how deep we have to dig to find 'em.”

A smug little grin appeared over the Devil Hunter’s face, as if she already had that answer. “I think I know some guys. Course, I imagine you’re not planning on throwing everything you have at my old boss until she crosses a line. Smart play. That said, you know as well as I do that won’t be forever. It’s just a matter of when with her.”

“Suppose old habits die hard,” Fury slyly replied. “Rest assured, as long as she’s keeping herself behind her new empire, she’s buyin’ us time to build up our own armies while she solidifies her power. But who knows how long that’ll be before she gets bold enough to go after somethin’ big.”

Himeno responded, “I can already think of at least a dozen super weapons the Japanese government has under lock and key. Already texting the boys to lock them even tighter. At this rate, I’ll reach out to a few Pro Hero agencies; see if they’re willing to lend out a couple of their guys.”

“And our friends at U.A. High?” he then asked.

She shrugged and replied, “To protect Japan? No question. Helping you out? Eh… who knows? They’re tough little guys, but they are still in training. I’m more surprised you aren’t askin’ your Avengers buddies.”

“Let’s just say they’re not taking calls right now and leave it at that,” said Fury. “Besides, I already have something else in mind to handle that problem.”

Half-jokingly, Himeno said, “Leave it to Fury to already have a plan. And if it helps, I already got something in the works.” 

It was just then that the pains of her hangover hit, making an audible enough of a groan that someone else walked into the room…

“I detected a groan in the vicinity. May I provide you with medical assistance?”

It took Fury a minute to remember that F.U.J.I. had one particular superhero team on their roster already — Big Hero 6. Ubiquitous as it had become thanks to the 2014 Disney film, it was easy to forget that they were Marvel characters first, and had a run in the comics as government-sponsored superheroes in Japan. Of course, they were quite drastically different in the early days, and the film was far more noteworthy in terms of pop culture, so needless to say that Baymax himself was that soft-looking marshmallow robot everyone knew and loved. More to the point and in keeping with Big Hero 6’s comic nationality, San Fransokyo was now a district in Tokyo itself populated by American expats, rather than the actual San Francisco rebuilt by Japan after the 1906 earthquake. And Himeno wasn’t only plucked out of the Chainsaw Man universe as-is – her full name was now Furi Himeno, having been composited with Furi Wamu, Big Hero 6’s Fury equivalent from the comics.

Of course, recalling that also meant he knew what Baymax would do as he heard Himeno rolling her one good eye. “It’s just… just the usual morning routine, big guy. Nothing to worry about.”

“I am seeing visible signs of a hangover,” said Baymax. “I will provide you with aspirin to help ease the pain.” He deployed a small tablet and walked over to Himeno, much to her discomfort. Fury almost cracked a smile seeing this, knowing what was going to happen next.

She tried brushing off the medical robot. “Baymax. Buddy. Look, I’m fine.”

“A hangover is a symptom of excessive consumption of alcohol,” continued Baymax, his primary programming in full gear. “It is not recommended to consume alcohol in such excess.”

Groaning more, Himeno replied, “Yeah, I think we get the idea…”

“Common side effects of excessive alcohol consumption include: reduced motor control. Loss of awareness. Severe liver damage.” And as if right on cue, Himeno felt the least pleasant part of a hangover, and immediately ran for the bathroom. The sound of heaving could be heard as Baymax innocently finished, “And vomiting.”

As Fury held in a smile, watching Himeno embarrassedly stagger back up after heaving out her guts, while Baymax just stood there blinking, he slyly said, “Best listen to the doc, Director. Right now, I need all focus on covering our blind spots to avoid any repeats of what happened at Sesame Street. S.H.I.E.L.D. will be handling the Makima problem one way or the other. In the meantime, keep those lips sealed tight. I’m not lookin’ to cause global instability and give Makima any extra advantages.”

“Yeah, yeah, you got this, Fury,” Himeno replied. “It’ll take me a while to get shit sorted out on my end, but when you call, F.U.J.I.’s got you. Just watch your back out there. I still owe you a few.”

He replied, “Don’t worry. I didn’t survive several wars for some bitch in a suit to splatter my brains to mush. If she wants to kill me, she’ll just have to get in line.” He hung up on Himeno, seeing Goose had been stirred from his catnap, and got a blank stare from the Flerken. Sighing heavily, he scratched Goose’s chin, getting happy purrs in response. But his thoughts were of a much bigger concern…

Carol, I hope wherever you are, it’s makin’ sure our asses are out of a much bigger fire. 

Soon, the Quinjet had returned to the Helicarrier, where Fury could see both Hill and Coulson waiting for him in the landing bay — and neither of them looked particularly pleased. As if he needed more bad news… but he learned a long time ago that bad news was part of the job. If there was ever good news, it was usually no news whatsoever. 

Once the craft had touched down, Fury stepped off, with Goose following on his tiny little legs. Looking at his subordinates, he said, “Let me guess — something else happened.”

“More like a lot of things, sir,” Hill replied. “None of it is good.”

Coulson started with the bad news first. “Our guys in Greece just got word out of the underworld. Rumblings in the supernatural community got them suspicious, so we had our occult boys look into it. Looks like Hades just decided to form a gang of his own with the same Megatron that gutted Barney the other day.”

“Shoulda known somebody wouldn’t take Makima’s coup lightly,” Fury replied. “Of course, that makes our job a lot more complicated with not one, but two villain teams running around.”

Coulson then added, “Looks like he’s only got a few guys so far. Nobody too noteworthy, but that can change in a heartbeat. The way I see it, it’s gonna turn into the ultimate death match; every baddie with a pulse will either sign on to Makima’s team to save their own necks, or they’ll join up with Hades thinking they can make sure there’s still something left for them to rule.”

“But that’s only half the problem,” Hill said. “While you were out, nearly every world government or intelligence agency called, panicked out of their minds. All of them are about preschool series within their borders. And those calls doubled after Trump sent the Kult after Sesame Street.”

Fury replied, “Which I take has been wrapped up?”

“Mister Murdock kindly alerted us to the Kultists' locations,” she told her boss. “They’re being processed in holding now. Already they’re demanding we release them or else they’ll ‘command the wrath of their lord to smite us where we stand.’ I think the charges of domestic terrorism and treason will keep them quiet while they’re being shipped off to The Raft.”

Almost amused, Fury said, “Good. Which reminds me – the Ku Klux Kult are to be considered a terrorist organization. If any of our agents catch them, they’re to be remanded to The Raft immediately. If “His Lordship” throws a fit about it, you may kindly remind him what the Hellicarrier has.”

“I’ll be sure to note it, sir,” Hill replied with a smile on her face. “In the meantime, MI-13 is in stitches right now because of the attacks. They’re considering sending a full contingent of armed troops to Sodor in case Makima, Megatron, or Trump gets the sudden urge to wipe them off the map, too.”

Coulson added, “And that’s considering their current protection, sir. But the list goes on. Icelandic intelligence is begging us to send someone to help Sportacus keep Lazy Town from being reduced to a stain, Italy’s government thinks Afela’s magic isn’t sufficient – “

“Afela? Remind me, Coulson, are those fairies a preschool show or not?” Fury asked.

His best agent replied, “Hard to tell on a given day. At the moment, it doesn’t matter. Right now, no agency or government feels confident in their ability to protect their most vulnerable. And we’ve deliberately kept them in the dark about Breakaway. There’s no telling how they’ll react if they learn we’re not taking any calls from Washington.”

“And given the sheer embarrassment of being told off by one of the most powerful men in the world, I have a sneaking suspicion he won’t be sharing that anytime soon,” Hill added. “Even he’s smart enough to keep his secrets.”

Though Fury quickly countered, “But not smart enough to think a K-Pop star is the Anti-Christ – and a very popular one at that.” As he finally reached the bridge, multiple screens were pulled up detailing HUNTR/X’s ban from the United States. “And I see the usual vultures are snapping up the story.”

Well, not all of them were vultures, as Lois Lane herself demonstrated. “Massive protests began forming outside the White House just moments ago when President Trump announced he was banning the popular K-pop group “HUNTR/X” from the United States. Claiming that lead singer Rumi Mi-yeong was the Anti-Christ incarnate, Trump stood by his decision and immediately declared that any protests against his choice would be considered an act of treason against his administration. Multiple protestors were rounded up as – “

April O’Neil was likewise speaking on the matter. “Noted attorney Matthew Murdock was nearby as he reported to authorities the tragedy of the eighth Sesame Siege. Only two confirmed casualties – an unidentified member of the infamous Ku Klux Kult, and beloved Sesame Street pet Barkley – marked the first deaths after seven previous attacks had avoided bloodshed thus far. Mister Murdock has said he will represent the Muppets in court if they choose to – “

Of course, FOX was eating up the story and spreading Trump’s claims over it like the hottest thing ever. “Lo, this singular act of treason against the United States and His Glorious Empire will not stand. Therefore, it is demanded that the nation of Korea return the traitors to our borders to face the Lord Trump’s wrath. They have already failed to allow the ascension of Lord Yoon to his rightful place; should they refuse to comply, they will be subject to an endless bombardment of nuclear warfare the likes of which – “

Perhaps even more unsurprisingly, CNN was running a similar story, as Warmbo Anderson Cooper was happily saying, “For once, we awe in totaw agweement with Mistew Twump’s decision to ban dose nasty, nasty HUNTW/X women fwom da United States! As a countwy, it is ouw responsibiwity to engage in civiw behaviow… WHICH DEY DID NOT DO! MISS WUMI SHOUWD HAVE DONE MOWE TO PUT WAWMBO HAWWIS IN CHAWGE! SHE HAS NO ONE TO BWAME BUT HEWSEWF! SHE NEEDS TO ACCEPT WESPONSIBIWITY IN AWW – “

More brutally, Cody Johnston of Some More News was tearing down the entire situation with enough bluntness to break glass. “So once again, American tax dollars are being wasted to murder the latest legend of animation… which doesn’t surprise me in the slightest, since our tax dollars are also still going towards making the Secret Service stay at Trump’s shitty golf resorts. You know, because there isn’t enough wasteful spending in America already! But let’s face it, dear viewers, this is just another distraction. Trump is scared about the Epstein files exposing him for the kind of monster we know he is. And what better way to make people less angry at him than by banning a K-pop group everyone loves? I mean, it’s not like –”

“That’s been the cycle since the second attack,” Coulson said. “Clearly, it isn’t boiling over well. There's been a massive increase in unlawful arrests since the ban. And Korea’s refusing to let Trump have them.”

Fury snarked, “So there is some civility left in this world…” He turned to the bridge officers and said, “Alright, people, listen closely. With Breakaway underway, I needn’t remind you of the kinds of difficulty we’re facing. We need all hands on deck for this operation; you know someone who wants into S.H.I.E.L.D., I’ll approve it. Anyone on active leave or vacation, cancel it and have them report to us immediately. If you hear even a whisper of something going on, I want to know about it first thing. This is gonna push us beyond our limits, even considering we’re still in the dark about this crazy, mashed-up world.”

“Already made the calls, sir,” Hill responded. “Oh, and those applications are already on your desk. Made sure they didn’t raise any red flags.”

Smiling, Fury then said, “And remember: anything about Breakaway stays on a need-to-know basis. You breathe a word of this that I don’t approve of, you’ll be joining our cadre of supervillains in The Raft. Understood?” A cold silence filled the air as the agents present nervously nodded. “Good. Now, let’s start off with the big issue. Where are we with numbers?”

“Even with the new recruits and the cancellations, it’s not gonna be enough,” Coulson lamented. “Maybe just barely covering our usual jobs, but Makima? She shows up with an Imperial fleet, and we’ll be ground up into dog kibble.”

Hill, however, knew her boss enough that she sensed he had an idea forming. “Unless you already had a plan for her and Hades.”

“As a matter of fact, I know just the woman for the job,” Fury slyly responded. “With the Avengers MIA, the League dealing with Jarhanpur, and any potential heroes currently busy, unaware, or untrusting of S.H.I.E.L.D., we need someone who can handle our supervillain problem. And luckily, I have a feeling she’s thinking the same thing.”

Coulson then asked, “Which begs the question. Who does she get first?” But as soon as he asked, Fury glanced over at the news reports about HUNTR/X’s ban. “Them?”

“As Demon Hunters, I’d usually get someone more versed in the ways of traditional bad guys,” Fury replied. “The problem is, Donnie chose to make it personal. And cause of him, the biggest musical group in history is now a public enemy in the one part of the world they needed to be in right now. In other words, they’re mad as hell. And that is something I intend to let them vent on Makima.”

Hill then said, “Let’s just hope our friend sees it the same way. She’s probably aware of their situation already, knowing her. You two do seem to have the same mindset.”

“It’s what’s kept us alive all these years, Hill,” replied the director of S.H.I.E.L.D. “Make the call.”

Except that Coulson then pointed to a communications station. “No need, sir. Looks like she’s calling us.”

“Patricia… hear me…” 

The weak voice out of JD Vance was a hopeless plea to resume his uh… leisure, even in the midst of a frozen Oval Office. All he could do was hopelessly crawl on his hands and knees as the cold air and his prior injuries were causing his face to puff up like a marshmallow. Yet he was still determined to get back to his twisted pleasures, as he crawled up the frozen couch… only for it to crumble in his hands. “NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO! WHYYYYYYYYYYYY?!”

“Who cares?!” Donald exclaimed from his own frozen prison. “THOSE TWO WOKE IMPS ARE RUNNING OFF WITH BARNEY!” He gestured his head towards Pain and Panic, who were running off with a sleigh full of purple guts, hightailing it out of the White House as fast as their little legs could carry them. “GET AFTER THEM! NOOOOOOOOW!”

But Vance’s own rage led him to gain a new vigor of energy. “Nay, milord! The call of the leather lies elsewhere! I cannot continue on unless my urges are satisfied!”

“VANCE, YOU HORNY IDIOT! I AM YOUR PRESIDENT! YOU WILL DO AS I…” but Vance just ignored him and charged out of the door, bound for who knows where. “Jesus, why do I even bother? I’m actually missing Pence! And that guy was THE WORST, believe me; never did what I asked of him. He REFUSED to—“

But a frozen Musk yelled, “SHUT THE FUCK UP, YOU ASSHOLE! WE’RE FROZEN SOLID, AND YOU’RE BITCHING ABOUT PENCE AGAIN!”

“YOU SILENCE YOUR TONGUE, TRAITOR!” a hissing Miller screeched. “THIS IS THOU’S DOING!”

Musk screamed, “FUCK YOU!”

“NAY! FUCK THEE!”

“FUCK YOU!”

And this kept going on and on as the Kultists (and Musk) kept yelling expletives at one another for what was starting to feel like hours. Having been silent this entire time since the emotional ordeal on Sesame Street, Wade finally spoke up. “Urgh, yeah. This is just… well, you kinda get the picture. But if you think these assholes are bad now for not only shooting a puppet dog and traumatizing an eternally 6-year-old bird, it’s about to get a whole lot worse…” For at that moment, the argument was broken up by a familiar projection…”

“Mister President… we need to talk.”

Trump and his bickering little bunch quickly went silent before the person on the other end of the protection — a bearded man wearing sleeveless, green robes, speaking with a deep, powerful voice. “Er… Mister Mandarin Guy, sir!”

“The Mandarin, you fool,” growled the supervillain. “And I use the term quite strongly today…”  The Kultists quivered even harder than before, despite the cold already having frozen them to the bone. Except this time, the sheer fear of seeing the iconic (if controversial) archenemy of Iron Man himself had all but silenced them. Perhaps subconsciously, no matter how much they bragged or boasted, they realized they were no match for an actual supervillain. 

Throughout the world, all feared the Ten Rings — a ruthless terrorist group devoted to toppling nations in the name of their leader. And it was said that he had lived for centuries in devotion towards that goal, simply because he possessed a power beyond understanding. Very few had ever managed to match him, not in the least the Armored Avenger himself. But at the moment, the fact he had Trump in his pocket meant he was playing a new game…

“Oh, yes! Yes! The Mandarin,” ol Donnie rattled off. “GREAT guy. Greatest guy ever, as a matter of fact. THE best guy on the —“ his ramblings were interrupted by a large plume of fire behind his boss, who was in no mood for his usual shit.

Staring intensely, The Mandarin said, “We are in a bold, new era. One in which only the strong may claim absolute dominance. But instead of you rising to hold your place… You waste your energies on something frivolous!” The image of the latest attack on Sesame Street appeared, with multiple S.H.I.E.L.D. agents arresting a screaming Noem and the Kultists.

“Oh god!” Hesgeth said as he began crying heavily, dropping his usual Kultist attitude despite his drunken state. “We didn’t win! WE DIDN’T WIN!! BWAAAAAHAHAHAHA!”

Gulping heavily, Bondi’s own haughtiness dropped, and she said, “Pleasedon’tkilluspleasedon’tkilluspleasedon’tkilluspleasedon’tkilluspleasedon’tkilluspleasedon’tkilluspleasedon’tkillus!” 

“Er… I can explain,” Trump tried to say. You see – “ Another explosion appeared behind the Mandarin, shutting Trump up.

With an even more displeased look on his face, Mandarin said, “Using American resources to kill Muppets and K-pop stars? Tsk, tsk, tsk, tsk… You really have proven useless to me. And after all I’ve done for you to ensure you never see the inside of a prison cell.”

“Which I’m VERY grateful for, by the way – I never say that about – “ Once more, another explosion shut Donald up as he cowered. “PLEASE! PLEASE! DON’T KILL ME! I’M TOO YOUNG TO DIE! I CAN’T TAKE EVERYTHING WITH ME YET!”

Growling, The Mandarin then said, “The only reason you still live is because America must be made to burn this world to the ground… with you as its king. Yet with each passing minute, you are giving me less of a reason to ensure that future. If you wish to live, you must end this waste. Leave Sesame Street alone. And most importantly, do NOT put a massive target on your back by going after a beloved team of heroes, no matter how much you hate them with a burning passion. Your actions today may very well have started your downfall… and it’s up to me alone to keep you in line.”

“Y-y-y-y-y-yeah! Yeah!” Trump said nervously. “You! You’re the best, guy! You know best! Everyone around here knows it!” The other Kultists tried nodding their heads in agreement, big, sheepish smiles on their faces, making it all the more apparent they wanted to get the hell out of trouble. 

But the Mandarin still seemed entirely unconvinced. “Is that so? Because if I find out you acted behind my back… if you make any further attempts to seek petty revenge instead of bringing the world to its knees… you’ll never see me coming…” Within seconds, his transmission ended, the nervousness of the Kult dissipating as they all breathed a sigh of relief. 

“THE… MANDARIN… FRIGHTENING… JUSTICE… MUST… BE… SERVED…” growled a nervous Shupri’Coa as it struggled to break itself free.

A frozen Peter Thiel couldn’t help but agree. “Indeed, O Elder God. The Mandarin’s resources will be of no use if we do not remove him from the equation and install the one true God, the Lord Trump, in his place.”

“Well, how the hell am I supposed to do that when HE’S WATCHING OUR EVERY MOVE?!” Trump screamed. “AS LONG AS HE’S LOOKING OVER OUR SHOULDERS, WE CAN’T MAKE THIS COUNTRY GREAT AGAIN! HE’S BEING A MAJOR PAIN IN THE ASS! NOT LETTING ME KILL THOSE CROOKED SINGERS AND THOSE WOKE MUPPETS? I SWEAR I WILL END HIS LIFE BY MY OWN HANDS!”

Musk again rolled his eyes as he had to listen to Donald’s ramblings, only for Grok to speak up. “You fools! Cowarding before an inferior? Do you not remember who your true masters are?” The image of Musk’s cheap A.I. then gave way to a pixelated green face who bore a striking resemblance to Toby Jones…

“Zis is only but ze first stage towards a true emergence – the rise of HYDRA!”

“Oh my god, this fucking gorm…” 

It was many light-years away that “The Mandarin” dropped his accent – and apparently everything else – after his little call with Trump, slumping over in his chair and sounding more like a stoned Brit. “I am seriously getting tired of having to deal with the same kiss-arsery every single time…” At that moment, a headless chicken/pig-like creature cooed happily and jumped into his lap. “You’re sick of it too, aren’t you, Morris?”

“Now, now, Mister Slattery,” the voice of Makima herself said from a distance. “Your performance proved excellent as always. Don’t tell me you grow tired of the limelight.”

Nearby, the Control Devil herself was watching as a camera crew had just filmed the latest act of infamy – that of “the fake Mandarin”, as the voice of Deadpool himself explained. “Ohh, so we’re goin’ down this route, aren’t we? Well, in that case, lemme recap a few deets for our true believers out there. See, The Mandarin… is problematic. I mean, guy’s an icon, but unfortunately, very steeply written in Asian stereotypes that’s forced writers to try and figure out how the hell he comes off as cool without being the same old Fu Manchu copy that basically screamed yellow peril. And some mid-grade director named Shane Black thought the answer was… make him a fake.”

“Long story short, Marvel was being fucked over on the movie side by a douchewad named Ike Perelmutter – aka, Mister “I Hate That Fox Has The X-Men and FF Rights And I Want More Inhumans”. Basically messed with every movie to make it more “Avengers-y”, and made Jon Favreau step down from doing Iron Man 3 after they just made Iron Man 2 into Avengers 0.5. Hence, instead of doing the idea of Palpatine-Mandarin, we got Ben friggin Kingsley playing a fake to try and make fun of the idea of playing into stereotypes, while some pasty white Guy Pierce claims he’s the real deal. It uh… it kinda didn’t blow over well until Shang-Chi had to basically show us the real deal. FYI, amazing movie, loved Tony Leung. Nailed the role. Loved how they gave him a lot of depth. But uh… apparently Makima’s doing the fake Mandarin bit again?”

Nearby, Darth Vader and Director Krennic were watching Makima’s plan, both somewhat in confusion. Not even minutes after she had ascended to Galactic Empress, she let them in on some plan she had been working on for quite some time involving President Trump – and they almost seemed as if they weren’t able to wrap their head around it entirely. The latter even said, “I… I don’t understand.”

“Nor do I,” Vader said. “Though perhaps Makima’s hailing from Earth may explain her reasons. Palpatine shared no apparent interest in the planet beyond mere recruitments for the Empire.” It seemed almost odd, really – for a planet rich in resources and power, Palpatine never once spoke of Earth except for the occasional mention here and there. If anything, he seemed to avoid drawing any attention to that seemingly insignificant blue planet, and usually glared whenever Vader talked about it. 

Still, both Imperials could see Slattery – the same man used in Killian’s scheme to take over America – was visibly distraught at having to talk to the current man in charge of that nation. “I mean, of course I deliver. I always deliver; never once do I give a bad performance. Acting is an art… but seriously, I cannot believe this wanker is just… well, dumb would be an understatement. Like, everyone knows about the whole “fake Mandarin” deal. I sure as hell remember; in fact, I distinctly remember being held prisoner by the real Mandarin for his amusement.”

“And yet here you are, serving a greater purpose,” Makima replied. “A man of your talents being used to finally put an end to that misery? I told you once that you would be given greatness. Have patience, my hound. In due time, Trump will fall. America will collapse with him, and the greatest evil of the world will finally be brought to an end – and you will have made it possible. Besides, you must remember that Mr. Trump is far from the stable genius he claims to be.”

Slattery, still a bit zoned from whatever drugs he was on, shrugged and said, “Well… the recognition certainly is what keeps me going. And I’m not in prison, I do have plenty of the good stuff… and the women. The women certainly do help.”

“I’m sure,” the Control Devil said. “Now, you have earned your rest. I will call when I have need of you.” Slattery dragged himself off his chair and walked away from the film set with Morris in tow, while Makima walked over to her two new servants.

“You see, Lord Vader? Director Krennic? This is only a small fraction of the work we shall do together.”

Still somewhat confused, Krennic nervously stammered out, “Er… forgive me, your Empress, but… what’s the point? I do confess I know nothing of Earth beyond a few simple details, but… why? Why go to all this trouble for one man?”

“A singular leader – and a foolish one at that,” Vader added. “It is clear he is well beyond his capabilities, let alone his claims of power. Would it not be more prudent to remove him and install a more competent ruler?”

Makima simply responded, “I’m afraid the situation is more complicated than the case was with Palpatine. Where I come from, the United States is considered the most powerful country. It boasts the most powerful weapons, armies, and has a significant number of powered beings who would see me destroyed. They tried once before – and failed with the Gun Devil.”

“Oh, yes…” Krennic said. “The whole Devil system. It is still something I am endeavoring to learn, but the idea of living embodiments of fear… and one made up entirely of firearms.”

The Control Devil then added, “One still in a multitude of pieces, truly unable to be fully utilized. Not that it truly mattered, since their portion proved to be useful to my larger goals. But still, it doesn’t change the fact that America’s threat still exists, even with the fools running it. If I were to topple it directly, it could rebuild, stronger than ever. Or worse still, those that remained would see to my end. Fortunately, the fools can be used to rectify that…”

“I believe I am beginning to understand,” Vader replied. “A direct confrontation with the United States would be potentially lethal to you, in spite of your Devil Contract. So you wish to destroy them by using the most foolish amongst them as their leader, directly under your command.”

Makima then said, “Not directly. True, I saw fit that the United States elected that buffoon. But it quickly occurred that his… shall we say, personality would not acquiesce to my commands, given his thoughts on women. Fortunately, I recounted that during the last administration, Aldrich Killian tried his little fake Mandarin scheme. It didn’t take much persuasion to convince Mister Slattery of the nobility of my goals, though he’s not aware of what I truly am. And I trust it shall be kept that way.”

“Ye–yes, of course,” said Krennic, who was mulling over Makima’s plan. “I still can’t quite fathom it… But I suppose there is an efficiency to your designs. Palpatine was always more preferential towards sheer brute force. Or at least stirring up the locals enough to get them angry enough to try and protest, thereby justifying such tactics.”

Vader then added, “But your desire is to end any faith in the United States’ capabilities and promises as a nation. Make it impossible for anyone to view it as nothing but a failure.”

“Then you understand perfectly, Lord Vader,” she said with something of a smile on her face. “That is something Palpatine failed to do when he took over the galaxy. He wanted the universe to lose all faith and trust in the Jedi… he simply didn’t go far enough.”

It made Vader think back to those final days, just before his old master issued Order 66. The Jedi had just attempted an assassination on the Chancellor, having learned he was a Sith Lord. Such an attack, leaving him “scarred and deformed”, resulted in Palpatine pulling the trigger and ordering the clone troopers to wipe out their Jedi Generals, using a command chip in their brains to force them to comply. It had been a carefully orchestrated plot 13 years in the making, as very few objected to seeing the Jedi wiped out back then. But Vader came to realize that Palpatine was so overconfident in his plans, he failed to make sure there wasn’t a soul left who refused to believe his lies – or make sure that all the Jedi were gone.

His thoughts momentarily turned towards those that were missed: Yoda, Ahsoka Tano, Cal Kestis, Caleb Dume, Quinlan Vos… Kenobi. Even if they did manage to get most of them later, the Jedi survived. Enough of them escaped the chaos and inspired people around their legends, making Palpatine’s plans entirely moot. Had that fool been more thorough instead of assuming he’d automatically won, even with the Inquisitors hunting down any stragglers, that could have been it. In the end, his overconfidence brought his downfall and allowed the Jedi to survive long enough to be a threat once more. 

“Then you understand my own concerns as well, your Empress,” spoke the Dark Lord of the Sith. “Perhaps it was fortuitous that my old Master believed he could control you, only to discover otherwise.”

While Krennic nodded in agreement, Makima replied, “Excellent. Then I wish to discuss those concerns further with you. Perhaps we can truly undo the damage that the late Palpatine had inflicted upon this galaxy. And it lies with him.”

“You refer to your greatest desire,” replied the Sith Lord. “The one called “Chainsaw Man”. 

Krennic added, “Yes… It does mention in this file, kept by the late Palpatine that you had a particular obsession with him… er, not that it was unfounded, my Empress. The sheer power alone he possesses would make for an excellent weapon.”

“Alas, his power is currently otherwise unavailable to me… all because of the idiot bearing it,” growled Makima with almost as much force as her own dogs. From what little Vader and Krennic had both learned of the Control Devil, they knew that she hated Denji – the boy hosting Pochita – with a rage that rivaled that of Vader’s hatred from Palpatine. Not just because he managed to kill her once, but all because a poor, destitute kid with raging hormones and no formal education was bearing that which she could not bear to be without; the one thing that would let her end all she despised. 

Still, if she were to somehow get Pochita under her control, it would mean total victory. No longer would anything she detested exist – nor would Vader be forced to live with the harboring guilt of his actions. He would finally be free of all that pain… he wouldn’t hear Padmé’s voice begging for him to… 

No, not the time to let those thoughts dominate him. At the moment, his only goal was to carry out Makima’s will. “My Empress, allow me to prepare a search for the Chainsaw Man. I will gather my best troops at once.”

“There is no need, my hound,” she calmly replied as she sat upon the throne where Palpatine once rested. “I already have that problem all taken care of…”

“NAZIS?! YOU MEAN TO TELL ME THAT DOOFUS WAS HANGIN’ AROUND WITH NAZIIIIIIIS?!” 

Back in the Underworld, Pain and Panic were in the process of fixing Barney – and reporting to Hades that they’d witnessed the old doofus consorting with the Kultists. Naturally, ol’ hothead was none too pleased that his minion was practically hanging around with the worst kinds of people that even he didn’t want to be associated with. Pain nervously said, “Er…yeah, there’s no gettin’ around it.”

“The worst part is, he didn’t seem to care!” Pain added as he finished stitching Barney. “It’s like he had no idea that these guys were pure evil!”

Pain then said, “And we’re talkin’ like evil evil! Not like your kinda evil, boss!”

“Forget the bootlickin’!” Hades shouted. “Finish fixin’ him so I can have a little chat!” The two imps hurriedly complied and restored Barney to his toy form and imagined him coming to life. 

Barney quickly shouted, “Hello again to all my–”

“AH-AH!” Hades said as he put his finger over Barney’s mouth. “You, my big purple idiot, have a lot of explainin’ ta do! You mind tellin’ me why you were hangin’ out with actual NAZIS’?”

“...what’s a Not-zee?” Barney asked, ever so dim in his views.

This caused Hades to facepalm and say, “You know what? Why am I even botherin’ explaining this to you? It’s like that one time you suddenly took over Washington and got the world to worship you as a god for some reason! All those kids thinkin’ you were gonna be taken away, and they did whatever you wanted!”

Ah, those events (or at least a very loose version of them anyway, given that our Barney wasn’t some diabolical mastermind with a genius IQ). Well, somehow they happened, which even Barney was able to loosely remember. The Day of the Barney Trilogy was a retelling of those events that made it sound like they were all part of the dino’s master plan, but it, in fact, completely changed his personality for drama purposes; all the horrible events of the fic happened in this merged universe solely due to Barney’s weapons-grade stupidity. “That never happened! I was just playing with those kids! That’s all!”

"Nope,” Hades replied. “You weren't aware of it cuz your non-brain couldn't process it, but it did happen. But hey. To me, that's a good thing! It means you're a master of the art of driving any yutzes I don't like to utter insanity!"

“...What’s insanity?”

Hades facepalmed again and said, "Oy vey, whenever I talk to ya it's in the ear, out the other."

"If it doesn't get sucked into that negative void in his head first, never to be seen again!” Pain added. And he wasn't being hyperbolic; Barney literally had no brain in his head, with only negative space inside his braincase. Nobody knew how he managed to live and (barely) function regardless. Nonetheless, this caused the dino-doofus to exclaim, “Oh boy! Let’s talk about our feelings!”

Hades then grabbed Barney by the neck and said, “LISTEN YOU! NO. MORE. NAZIS! KAPISCHE?! Ok, good. Glad we had this talk! Oh, by the way, I catch you with any of ‘em, I’m dockin’ yer pay.”

“But Mister Boss Man!” Barney protested. “I don’t need the money! I have lots of it already in my piggy bank!” He then pulled out his cheap little piggy bank, shaking it to prove his point…except it was only a quarter full. 

Once again, Hades just sulked where he stood, knowing there was no point in trying to say anything. “Alright, ya know what? Forget it…I’m goin’ go torment that chud that just dropped in. For like the next several hundred years. Pain, Panic, you want in?”

The two imps screamed in joy as they followed, leaving Barney all to his lone self, without a care in the world. Boy, good luck getting him to stop hanging around with those guys again…will he? Oh, who are we kidding? He probably will.

Of course, even if Hades had bothered to sternly remind Barney to obey his every command, right now, he didn’t care. He had himself a brand new torture victim to go after. Or rather, something even better than your average torture victim. If anything, he had a vicious grin on his face as the now deceased Kultist. “Hey, howya doin’, chuddy! Name’s Hades, Lord of the Dead! Anyhoo, just wanted to welcome ya to yer new afterlife!”

“Lo, this is not possible!” the Kultist’s soul exclaimed. “What sort of joke is this? I am an ordained servant of His Lordship, the Donald Almighty! I was guaranteed a place in heaven!”

As Pain and Panic laughed, Hades grinned ear to ear and said, “Ooooo. Looks like we got a Grade A sucker, boys! Lemme guess, you foreswore to the current orange tumor mass sittin’ in DC and he promised he’d bump off all those people you don’t like, amiright?”

“You… you who desecrate the voice of Brother Woods,” growled the Kultist. “How dare thee mock his sacred — AHHHHHHHHHHHH!” He felt a sharp pain as a giant vulture dug its claws into his stomach and tore out his liver. 

Shaking his head, Hades kept up his spiel. “So let me spell it out for ya, babe — can I call ya babe? — You, my dumb friend, locked yourself into my domain the moment you decided to lick Donny’s boots and never looked back. I mean, where do we even start with you?”

“Maybe the fact he’s wearing the hood of a well-known racist organization?” Pain rhetorically asked. 

Panic snarked, “At the very least.”

“HEATHENS! RELEASE ME AT ONCE! THE LORD TRUMP DEMANDS — OWWWWWW, MOOOOOOOMMMMMMMMYYYYYYYYY! IT HURTS!” His stoic demeanor took another blow as the vultures then ate his stomach. 

Laughing hard, Hades said, “Ouch! Somebody’s appetizin’ today! HAHAHAHAHAHA! Hey, hey, you know what? I’ve had a good laugh; I think I’m feelin’ generous now, so I’ll tell ya what. How would you like a ticket to the hottest spot in all the Underworld, eh?”

“Uh oh,” Pain whispered. “He’s doing it again.”

Panic sighed and said, “The boss really just can’t help himself.”

“PLEASE! MAKE IT STOP! I’LL DO ANYTHING!” pleaded the Kultist. 

The Lord Of The Dead slyly replied, “Now, don’t go pleadin’ with me, buddy! I’m the top god around here, so you’re practically an ant as far as I’m concerned! Sides, pleain’ ain’t gonna get you to see the Lord of Overpriced Golf Courses again.” Suddenly, the Kultist stopped screaming. “Do I have your attention? Good. So here’s how it’s gonna work. I let you go, you make a beeline straight for there and only there.”

He pointed his finger at the edge of his Underworld, which, for some reason, was covered in a variety of Trump signs! It was like a massive Trump-themed amusement park called “Trump Land”, with the images of an active roller coaster, sounds of his voice playing over carnival games, and a variety of golden-covered portraits of the man. Suddenly, the Kultist’s eyes lit up like Christmas. “Lo, it is He! He who is most Holy! He who is—“

“Yeah, yeah, yeah, scat, would ya?” Hades unstrapped the idiot from his rack and urged him to get going. “Don’t wanna keep Donny waiting!”

Quickly, the Kultist’s soul began running towards Trump Land with glee and vigor. “HAIL, O GLORIOUS ONE! MY SALVATION AWAITS IN YOUR EVER-LEGENDARY DOMAIN!” As if he were a cartoon, he kicked up a dust cloud and disappeared out of sight. 

“You’re really askin’ for it, boss,” Pain exasperatedly said. 

Nodding in agreement, Panic added, “Yeah, the guy deserves that kinda torment, but why do you have to mess with… her?”

“Especially knowing who her daddy is?!” Pain pointed out. 

But Hades just brushed them off and replied, “Relax. Sides, it’s a mutually beneficial prank — I get to send those schmoes off to the one underworld they’d rather avoid at all costs, ergo they suffer an even worse fate than I can dish out. Meanwhile, the Princess gets more victims ta try her lil’ experiment of provin’ condemned souls can be redeemed! A load of Minotaur manure if ya ask me, but hey, not like any of the souls I got down here want to be redeemed, amiright?”

Wait… Princess? He wasn’t talking about her, was he?

“I AM COMING, MILORD!” screamed the Kultist as he ran with such enthusiasm towards Trump land. Of course, he was in so much of a hurry that he failed to notice the closer he got, the very place he was running towards looked rather fake… but once he swung open the doors and stepped inside, he yelled, “BEHOLD, IT IS I! A FAITHFUL SERVANT OF… hey, waitaminute…” It was just then that he noticed the decorum was not that of Trump, but a rustic, devilish mix of what appeared to be a hotel lobby. “This isn’t his —“

But then he looked down… and his body looked a lot more like a sheep! “WHAT THE HELL?!”

“Sigh… shit, here we go again,” an almost exhausted voice called out from nearby. The panicked, now woolly Kultist turned around and saw this grumpy, winged cat with a magician’s hat sitting behind a bar, looking rather exasperated. “Princess! Our neighbor just tricked another one of those racist freaks into the hotel again!” the catlike creature said in a deep, smooth voice.

Sweat began flying down the Kultist’s face. The words Princess and the fact that he was in a hotel confirmed his worst nightmares and then some. A giant lump formed in his throat, and his little knees began shaking as two figures approached him – one of whom had a very pissed off, moth-like look to her as she groaned, “Urgh, that fucking Hades again! Seriously, how many times is he gonna keep pulling this crap?!”

“Hey, it’s ok, Vaggi!” the other person – a young blonde in a red business suit with a dog-like snout and nose – said in a calm, reassuring tone. “Yes, it’s very annoying, and I will absolutely talk to him about it, but… I mean, it certainly wouldn’t hurt the hotel to try and see if we can redeem the worst of humanity, right?”

This “Vaggi” person sighed with a groan in her voice as this other woman approached the now petrified and terrified Kultist, who was practically on his knees and feeling like the end of the world was upon him. For this was his ultimate nightmare that not even Hades could match; the result of his twisted viewpoint, believing someone like the woman before him was a monster when it couldn’t be further from the truth.

“Welcome to the Hazbin Hotel!”

On the other side of Hades’ underworld, he heard the most blood-curdling scream and chuckled. “Heheheh, good luck, Charlie. I think you got this in the bag.”

“Sigh… is there some purpose behind this trickery?” Beast Megatron asked as he was lounging nearby. 

Hades chuckled and replied, “My friend, in the business of underworlds, this is called ‘doin’ a favor.’ Now uh, how’s about you and I discuss a few recruitin’ options…?”

“Look, I can’t say what they’re doing right now! Please, understand it has been a very long day for my girls, and right now they need their space!”

It hadn’t even been a second before HUNTR/X was swarmed with fans and reporters all asking the same question: why had they been banned? Even they couldn’t answer it, at least not without it sounding crazy… And as usual, Bobby was in charge of helping to manage the chaos.

It took every ounce of energy that Rumi, Mira and Zoey had to dart through the city and hightail it back to JFK Airport. Even then, they had to go beyond just to slip past security and get out of U.S. airspace into friendlier skies in Canada. Really, it was a miracle that Trump didn’t send a fleet of fighter jets out there to blow them out of the sky, although they had no idea he was otherwise occupied. But the whole flight home was even more uneasy, even compared to the flight into New York. 

As the elevator was taking the girls up to the top floor, there was so much weighing on everyone’s minds. Zoey looked more like a zombie – her usual energy and cheeriness having been drained completely now that she had been exiled from her own country. The whole flight over, she had been frantically texting her parents, begging them to hide in case Trump decided to have them arrested to get back at the group. Much to her relief, they were okay at the moment, but the fear of reprisal from the Kult continued to gnaw at her.

Mira was in no better spirits; her anger had practically frozen itself on her face, the thought of wanting to pound something into a pulp being one of the few things that she could look forward to when she got back. The entire gymnasium would probably be trashed by the end of it, but she didn’t care. If anything, she would have taken on the whole damn world at this point. 

But Rumi… nothing in her mind could even comprehend why. Why deem her the Anti-Christ? Why did Trump go to all those lengths just to exile the three from America? Did Gwi-Ma have something to do with this? Or was this just some extremely rotten luck on their part, brought about by being in the wrong place at the wrong time? 

Honestly, she was too tired to fathom it. What she needed was some decent sleep, a nice hot meal, and absolutely no news about what just happened until she’d gotten her head on straight. Couch time was a tradition amongst the trio, but none of them had the energy to cheer out for it. All they wanted was for that door to open so they could just do… well, something less stressful. "Hey guys... couch? Couch? Couch?" Rumi said, forcing a smile and desperately trying to cheer up her two best friends in the whole world -- and herself, too. Usually, "couch time" was the one thing they looked forward to the most after a hard day's work, but things were far different this time.

The elevator door opened, the night lights of Seoul gleaming out from the tower, offering some sense of comfort and familiarity to the trio. Except someone had to immediately ruin the moment over their couch, as J.D. Vance had somehow traveled all the way from America to Korea ahead of them and trespassed in their tower, just to have intercourse with their furniture! “Lo, Helena has granted me the pleasure of victory, for the Lord Trump has exiled you woke Asian c**ts, never again to spread the poison of the…” Unfortunately for him, they were in no mood to deal with his antics and drew their weapons. “Oh, fuck…”

Within seconds, the Vice President of the United States flew out of HUNTR/X Tower, screaming as loud as possible as he was flung into a dumpster, his eyeballs flying out behind him.

“That rat jerk!” Mira exclaimed as she angrily cleaned the couch with vigor, before she and the others slumped right into the freshly polished piece of furniture. “Oh, god… we’re in soooo much trouble.”

Barely holding herself together, Zoey exhaustedly asked, “Did we… did we make a mistake? Were we… just not supposed to go to Sesame Street?”

“I don’t believe that for a second,” Rumi replied as firmly as she could. “We did what was right. We helped someone in their hour of need. Whatever drove Trump to attack us was nothing you, Mira, or I did. Don’t ever feel like this is your fault, Zoey.” The young rapper let off a half-hearted smile, but it still wasn’t enough to take the sting away. “I’m just sorry it came to this…”

Mira said, “Hey, we’ll be ok. You know the fans aren’t gonna take this lying down.” Derpy’s familiar visage then appeared right next to the couch, letting Zoey glomp onto his fluffy face as Sussy just casually sat there. 

“It’s not that,” replied Rumi. “The fans are important, like always. But this is different. Now, we’re wanted criminals. Unjustly or not, we have to spend the next few years with giant targets on our backs – targets we’re in no shape to deal with.”

Zoey sighed and added, “And with Gwi-Ma already gunning for us… I hate to jump to the worst-case scenario, but Trump – “ She took a moment to calm herself from having to say his name like that. “He’d go to war just to see us dead.”

“I wouldn’t put it past him,” Mira replied as she took a stroke of Derpy’s chin. “We were lucky to get out of the States as it was, thanks to the Muppets and that Murdock guy.”

Nodding in agreement, Rumi then said, “We can’t let this get us down. We still have a mission to protect the Honmoon and support the fans, no matter what. Now… we just have to find someone to help us out with that mission.”

“Well, Mister Murdock did give us his card,” Zoey said as she grabbed the Nelson and Murdock: Attorneys At Law card out of her wallet. “Oh! Maybe we could take this to… wait, he’d probably rig the system so we’d lose no matter what.”

It then sparked an idea in Mira. “Wait a second. Zoey, how many of those notebooks did you have?” 

“I’d gotten to at least 40 by the time we got to Toronto!” she eagerly said as she held out a giant stack of them. 

Rumi realized what Mira was getting at. “If we’re gonna keep at it, we need to go even bigger. Find allies who can get HUNTR/X back to Sesame Street to fulfill that promise. And then maybe… maybe even go beyond all that. If the world wants to throw us for a loop, we fight back. Spread the Honmoon everywhere we can; cut Gwi-Ma off from any more souls. And maybe – just maybe – we can even slow Makima down.”

“Actually, I had something a lot different in mind for you three,” a gravelly voice called out from the shadows, causing all three of the K-Pop stars to leap up and draw their weapons.

Rumi shouted, “Who are you? Are you with the Kult?!” But what – or rather who came out of the shadows – changed everything in that moment. 

“Not even close, Miss Rumi. My name is Roz. And we need to talk…”