The Climax Part 1: Ghosts of the Past (vs. Dom/Sicko)
Jun 24, 2019 19:26:57 GMT -5
The Anarchist, Kyle Shane, and 1 more like this
Post by David Hunter on Jun 24, 2019 19:26:57 GMT -5
**The following is a detailed report lifted from interviews with David Hunter on behalf of The Council of Dimensional Travel and Circumstances, authorized by senior council member Jack Hunter. Any unauthorized copies of this report is punishable of up to twenty years in Council holding as well as a $500,000 dollar fine, or equivalent in whichever currency the offender pertains to.
For the sake of reference, this report was first filed on June 24, 2019. Due to its dense nature, it has been split into parts for convenience. Please see further parts for further analysis. As of present, David Hunter is under Council holding for an indiscernible amount of time. It is of note that he is allowed access to his job and a brief period outside of holding of up to two hours.
Further evaluation as it pertains to David Hunter will be assessed at the discretion of senior council members Jack Hunter, Professor Paradox, and Jack Spicer at a future, unspecified date.**
It’s like a factory in here. Or at least like the manufacture line in League of Extraordinary Gentlemen. You know, when Sean Connery and the Gang went to stop Moriarty and the Misfits and one of the bad guys drank all of Hyde’s juice and turned him into totally-not-Red Hulk?
No?
Whatever, the point is, David Hunter enters the door that leads to this manufacture line that looks like the one in League of Extraordinary genetleman.
How'd he get here? He was following Larxene—the cloaked babe with blonde hair and a penchant for fancy knives—for a while through countless corridors with countless rooms. Seriously, it’s like Castle Obliv—
Oh wait, it is Castle Oblivion, duh. They must’ve been able to secure it before the timeline caught up. Funny how dimensions work.
It’s actually not.
It’s actually pretty fucking confusing.
Nonetheless, this Castle Oblivion that is still Castle Oblivion and not the Land of Departure as of yet is apparently where Noxorus and his gang of many malicious minions have called their base of operations. Apparently it’s still fairly uncharted by the Council so they wouldn’t really think about it in terms of where bad guys would hang out.
It's as ironic as they are, apparently, ingenious.
David, adorned in a black shirt with a purple unicorn on it with a broken horn and his standard blue jeans, follows Larxene through a door. Why is he here in Castle Oblivion? Because he finally decided on what he wanted to do! Do you get to see it?
**Addendum: According to the council they are not legally obligated to show you. See the disclaimer at the start of the report for reference.**
The backpack he’s on is new, but fairly ignored by the various villains he’s caught the eye of.
Speaking of catching eyes, David’s manage to fall on a laser.
Sorry, let me correct that.
David’s manage to fall on a Laser, sitting in the middle of the large room. Not unlike the three found on Earth, this one’s main difference is its size. What the Council’s lacks in substance, this one makes up for in sheer size. What Mr. Silver’s lacks in room, this one makes up for in simplicity. What Jack’s lacks in ingenuity, this one makes up for in convenience.
It’s big, yes, but it’s fairly easy to work with. Pick a location on the computer, than a dimension, press a few buttons, boom, voila, instant laser beam via the Cyclonian crystal used as its power source.
It’d be a hell of a catch if it wasn’t presently in the hands of the biggest bad ever.
“Here he is boss. Untouched and unscratched, just like you asked,” Larxene says.
David looks over at Noxorus, presently watching over the room.
“It’s okay Larxene, I know you wanted the foreplay too,” the former says.
She grabs a knife, looking to aim it at David. Noxorus holds his right hand up.
With a huff, she puts the knife away. David hears her stomping off behind him. To his credit, he is too focused on the magnificence of the Laser.
“Impressive, isn’t it?” Noxorus asks, his trusty sword in both his hands, the point of it aimed towards the floor.
David shakes his head, getting himself back together.
“What, Larxene? Nah, Wuya has her beat anyday.”
He moves his head to the right, narrowly avoiding a knife which flies by his ear. It collides against the floor with a repeated clang.
“Must you taunt her?” Noxorus asks.
“Do I need to? No. Do I want to? Absolutely, but enough pleasantries. What’s up with the Laser?” David asks.
Noxorus smiles at this, his black, rough, scaly skin crinkling a bit with the movement.
“The master plan. Powered under the Mistress’ Cyclonian crystal—”
“I believe she prefers Master,” David interjects.
I suppose of all people you would know firsthand.
“—with parts stolen from the lab of Stanford Pines, the most intelligent and successful dimensional traveler not part of the council, and through other technology gathered via the Sorting Hat’s ability to navigate us to where we need to go, I present to you the most powerful interdimensional laser ever built,” Noxorus finishes.
“I’ll admit it, it’s quite a sight,” David says.
He moves forward, joining Noxorus at his side. His backpack is facing the crystal while the two of them continue to talk.
“And all of this would be but a pipe dream were it not for your assistance. I know having you as a freelancer would be the key, and your continued support is exactly what we need to finish the job,” Noxorus says.
David glances over, raising an eyebrow.
“Come again?” he asks.
Noxorus loses the smile, but continues to look out over his menagerie of villains. Dr. Animo, Mercury Black, Grimmel the Grisly, Blackfire, Poison Ivy, Vlad Plasmius, Noah Kaiba, Giovanni, Bloody Mary, and that’s just who David can see on first glance.
The worst of the worst, and all done by removing players who make zero difference at an exact time. And that’s the keyword: time.
It’s all about when you remove them. Whether it be Dark Ace after his exile from the Cyclonian Army or Bloody Mary before the big fight that killed her, the key ingredient to amassing the largest army of villains is to know when to take them so that the time stream and dimensions as a whole don’t collapse. It’s also why Noxorus didn’t set-up his home base in the Prime Dimension. If that collapses than everything else goes with it, which means everything he would’ve worked for would’ve been pointless.
This is why Noxorus is the only person who could’ve done it. Where did he come from? Who is he? Why this huge plan? Nobody knows, and nobody’s been able to pinpoint so much as a hint.
“David, you have been serving me well these past few months. Despite your personal worries getting in the way countless times, you have succeeded at every task I’ve given you. This is why I want you to join me.”
Wait what?
“Wait what?” David asks.
Noxorus continues, “With you at my side, with your contacts and relations, we can make sure this plan goes off without failure. You’ve proven countless times why you’re the best person for it. Join me officially, and everything you ever wanted can be yours.”
Meanwhile—
“Your father? Dead within an instant. Your mother? She’ll be back like what you did never happened. Miss Schuyler? Her love returned tenfold.”
Right, meanwhile—
“That annoying, omnipotent voice that narrates your every movement?”
“Wait, you can hear him?” David asks, damn near screeching in confusion.
“Consistently and persistently. His role? Null and void. Forever,” Noxorus says.
I would very much like for that not to happen.
“Huh. As tempting as that might be—”
Oi! David!
“—I think I’m going to pass. I like what you have going on here Nox, I do, and I hope you succeed. But this was only ever going to be an employer, employee deal. Now that this baby is complete, my job is done. If you don’t mind, I’d like to take my favors now,” David says.
Don’t scare me like that again, you bastard.
“Hm…disappointing,” Noxorus mutters. “But a deal is a deal. Name your prices, I believe you have three.”
“Favor number one, let Dark Ace's contract go. You have plenty of capable pilots, some nearly as good as him. As nice as having the best would be, you can live without him,” David says.
“Unfortunate, but okay. Granted,” Noxorus.
“Favor number two, amnesty to a select number of people: myself, my sister, my step-mother, Argit, Angelica, and Dark Ace,” David.
“No mention of your father?”
“Eh, he can rot in hell for all I care.”
“No Mr. Daemon? No Mr. Pedrosa? Nio? How about that frog princess you’re so keen on avoiding?”
“What, Max? Nah. Good luck killing an immortal guy though. And I like Nio, but he’s been around too long. As for…her?”
David puts his fingers to his chin, thinking a bit.
Eventually, he shrugs.
“Yeah, sure, throw her on there.”
“Your list is reasonable. Granted, although you and your family—barring your father—were always to be spared. I owed you that much.”
“And finally, favor number three,” David begins. “Once you’re done with this bad boy, I want it.”
“You’re referring to the Laser?” Noxorus asks.
“Yes, although if that’s overstepping some kind of boundary than I’d like one built for me,” David says.
“The former is impossible, but the latter can be done. Granted. I cannot express how sorely I am displeased with your decision, but alas, it was yours to make. Please, David…stay safe in the coming war. The portals will be popping up at random, but all those sent out will know who to avoid,” Noxorus says.
David offers the lizard alien his hand, to which the lizard alien accepts. David grips the rough skin of Noxorus before they shake.
Once they let their hands go free, David begins making his way back towards the door he entered in.
“Oh, and David?” Noxorus asks.
David stops, glancing over his shoulder at the big bad.
“Let Dark Ace know of his newfound freedom. I’d like to find a suitable replacement as soon as possible,” the lizard alien says.
David nods, silently accepting the final request.
As David passes by more villains, matching eyes with a lot of them, he keeps on remembering why he's here and what he's doing.
It's something completely innocent and nothing at all worthy of guilt.
So says I.
Me.
And David too. David too, as well, thinks this.
David himself eventually reaches the door that he came in.
He opens it, exits through, and closes it, as quickly as he can without looking like he's in a hurry.
Cause he kind of is.
He releases a sigh, which is unfortunately cut off by a knife against his throat.
“What do you want Larxene?” David asks, annoyed.
With the knife close, Larxene’s bosom pressed against his back, and David himself right against the door, he is in no position to retaliate.
“Just a warning, from me to you. Once the portals start forming, even with the embargo on your life, well…let’s just say that…accidents tend to happen in battle. What’s stopping you from becoming one of those accidents?” Larxene asks.
“Me,” a familiar yet still hauntingly seductive female voice says.
The heat starts to rise, and not just because there are literal boobs pressed into David’s back. No, because of a green flame forming next to both of their faces.
The knife is removed from his throat and the fire dissipates in the air.
Larxene looks back at Wuya, dressed in her usual red robes and looking none too pleased at her protégé/sex toy’s life being threatened.
“Wuya, the queen bitch. Nice to see you—”
One swift elbow to the back of Larxene’s skull later and her body collapses to the floor before she can finish her sentence.
“That is going to be a bitch to recover from,” David says.
“Does he have it?” Wuya asks.
The zipper on the backpack opens up, and two furry hands hold up the crystal that belonged to Master Cyclonis, the one that was previously sitting on the laser in the last room and was swapped for a near identical fake.
Almost got caught. Apparently that lizard fuck can hear me? Damn near narrated the shit too.
The crystal returns inside, and a furry, familiar, mostly friendly face pops up.
“Heya Wuya,” Argit says.
“Argit,” she responds, the ice flowing through her tone.
Argit returns inside the backpack, zipping it back up.
“You have maybe five minutes until he notices. Mercury and I will try and distract him for as long as we can, but look who we’re dealing with. Dark Ace is waiting for you by the exit. You might not make it before he notices the crystal is a fake, but there’s plenty of rooms to hide in,” Wuya says.
David nods his head, beginning to make his way past her. Unfortunately, she grabs him by the arm.
“Hold it. I will need one thing from you before you go,” she says.
“Wuya, we don’t have time—”
She places a quick peck on his lips, just enough to interrupt him, take him off his guard, and make me damn near vomit.
She steps back, winking over her shoulder.
“Try not to die, alright?” she asks.
Argit’s voice pops out from the backpack.
“I would’ve assumed that you, of all people, Wuya, would be supporting this fucker until the end,” he says.
“What can I say?” she asks, brushing a few knuckles against David’s right cheek. “I’m not the mistress of most evil for nothing.”
She waves her fingers behind her, entering through the door back into the room with the Laser.
After another few seconds, David shakes his head to get himself back into the game. He turns around and begins to hustle through the hall in front of him.
“Now I remember why 13 year old me couldn’t resist her,” he says.
Argit pipes up again, “To be fair, 22 year old me still can’t.”
I swear, between an empress threatening your life explicitly and getting a boner and whatever the hell the thing was with Wuya, David’s taste in women leaves something to be desired.
And that’s not even mentioning the frog princess situation.
David hustles, trying to act natural while going at a brisk pace, through the deep white walls of the castle. Rushing down steps, skipping banisters, and ignoring Argit’s distress cries of pain, he eventually manages to reach the last floor…before the PA system kicks in.
“To all of my henchman contained within,” Noxorus’ voice can be heard. “It appears we have a traitor amongst us. If you see the conniving twit that is David Hunter, or his companions Dark Ace and Argit, you are authorized to attack with intent to kill.”
“There’s our queue,” Argit still muffled voice says.
He opens up the backpack, hopping out, crystal in hand. David ditches the backpack, throwing it to the floor to rot.
“I’ll make a break for the hangar, you find a room to hide in!” Argit says, bolting down the hallway as fast as his little legs can run.
David glances around the hall he’s in, looking at a few doors. A few of them have obvious traps in them with nameplates signaling who or what these rooms belong to.
I mean, David might be a dumb-ass, but even he knows rooms that say ‘Safe Room’, ‘Break Room’, and one that just says ‘Chamber of Waking’ are clearly just rooms where people are waiting to ambush him. That last one was just an obvious trap and nothing important at all could possibly be contained within.
Eventually, he finds one he likes: there's no nameplate on the door. He opens it up, revealing a room engulfed completely in darkness. Taking only a few seconds to ponder—most of which was filled with wonder why there is a room full of darkness in this everlasting white—David just kinda shrugs, which is clearly an appropriate response if I have ever seen one.
David enters the room, closing the door behind him. He fiddles with the knob for a few moments, stumbling upon a lock. With the door now sealed and locked, he turns around to lean against the door.
He sighs, closing his eyes to relax, sitting down and slumping to the floor.
He does not expect to hear a voice.
“Holy shit, I wasn’t expecting to have a visitor like…ever,” the voice, decisively feminine says.
He also wasn’t expecting the voice to be a high school teenager.
With another sigh, David opens his eyes, coming face to…corporeal face.
Ghosts.
She’s a ghost.
It’s a ghost.
I’m a ghost.
We’re all ghosts, hey!
“Who the fuck are you?” David asks.
“Uh, rude much?” the ghost asks.
Considering her attire is literally just a red kimono, wrapped around her slim body, David (and me by association) is fairly certain she’s eighteen. Her blonde hair and ruffled clothing leave him to also assume her death was unexpected.
As deaths tend to be, I suppose.
Not that that’s any of David’s business.
“That figures, the first semblance of a human I see in months and he’s a total douchebag,” the ghost continues.
“Oh, my apologies,” David says, his voice taking on a sickly sweet tone to counteract her somewhat innocent approach to this situation. “I was expecting to walk into this stupidly white castle, fuck up the big bad’s plan by taking the crystal, get the hell out of here before anybody important notices, get my ass back home, have a very cheap bottle of beer, and then go on to wrestle a couple of giant-aped pricks. Oh, and I almost forgot, not be caught by anybody, even annoying teenage ghosts.”
Most people would look at David’s tone, decide that’s enough, before turning around or leaving. Or retaliate with a punch to the schnoz.
And if I may quote a controversial internet reviewer: this isn’t most people!
Especially because she technically isn't even a person anymore.
“Wow, somebody’s got issues,” the ghost says.
“Understatement of the fucking year…” David mutters to himself. “Nonetheless, I am forced to repeat myself: who the fuck are you?”
“What, you ever see a musical before? I know it only made it to off-Broadway, but I’m at least worthy of being remembered. I’m not more popular in death than in life for anything, you know…”
David rolls his eyes, standing up to unlock the door. He peaks his head out, checking to see if anybody is walking by or investigating the hall.
“Doesn’t ring a bell babe, sorry,” he says.
When she clears her throat, David closes the door. He turns around and stares at her, fairly unimpressed, as she strikes a pose Madonna wouldn’t even pass an eye at.
The ghost speaks again, adding an edge to her voice, “Heather Chandler. Leader of the almighty Heathers, Queen of Westerburg High, and—”
“A mythic bitch, yeah, I remember now. My sister was obsessed with the show when it came out a few years back. So tell me Heather, what brings you to Castle Oblivion, forward to 'random dark as fuck room'?” David asks.
“Well, if you must know—”
Oh we must, we must.
Through gritted teeth, she continues, “If you must know…”
She begins speaking normally as David opens up the door to check the hall once more.
“…apparently the Laser needed spectral energy from some kind of spirit. They wanted to use some kind of…green portal to get some of it—”
“That explains Vlad’s presence…” David adds-in, mostly focused on the hall.
Heather continues, “—but all of the ghosts inside put up too much of a fight. Well, except one, buuut…”
“Nobody wanted the Box Ghost.
All three of us manage to say at the same time, which is still a bitch to format properly.
“David Hunter, nice to meet you. So, what brought you into the Game, Miss Chandler?” David asks.
He opens the door, beginning to creep down the hall towards the hangar entrance on the other side. Waaay on the other side. He continues to shift his glance around the hall, trying to avoid getting caught down this massive corridor with no discernible hiding spots but more obviously trapped rooms.
Heather just continues to follow, floating along aimlessly.
“Heather, please. Miss Chandler is sooo ’89. Anyway, I was just getting done with my usual haunt of that traitorous cunt of a Heather when a couple of them caught wind of me. Couldn’t tell you who, exactly, but they smelled strangely like wet puppies and fake fur,” she says.
“Jasper and Horace are in too? Neat,” David pops in.
“I haunted them for a bit but they needed my energy and who was I to say no? I haven’t technically been needed since 1989. Thirty years of haunting somebody who doesn’t care about being haunted gets so boring. Honestly, you’re the best person I’ve seen in forever.”
“And isn’t that just a fucking mess of a sentence. I appreciate the tip Heather, but if it’s all the same to you, I’m kind of busy not wanting to di—”
“Tall guy in labcoat on your right,” Heather says.
David sneaks into a door, not bothering to see what it said. Lucky for him and for me, I suppose, there’s nobody inside. In fact, it’s a bathroom, so really we lucked out on all fronts there.
David sees the ‘tall guy in labcoat’ pass by: Professor Membrane, who is probably the smartest person he’s seen so far, and isn’t that just a fucking mess of sentence.
“Thank you for that,” David says.
He exits the bathroom, continuing the walk towards the hangar door. We're almost there, a solid minute or two and he’ll be scot free.
“Can anybody see you or is it just me? Not sure how this type of haunting works.”
Heather is happy to help, “Oh, it’s just you. To be honest I’m trying to blow this lemonade stand. Any more time in that room and I’ll start trying to haunt that weird albino bat…demon…thing.”
“Bartok’s back in the game? Thought that fucker retired.”
“Oh I think I remember that one. Always hung out with that corpse, right?”
Says the woman with draino coming out of her—
“So is that omnipotent voice always a thing or…?” Heather asks.
“Oh, you can hear it too? That’ll come in handy. Hey, if you’re not doing much after this I wouldn’t mind adding you to my crew, or whatever's left of it anyway. Not really a crew so much as a group of people I hang out with and sometimes go to war with. You'll love it. Lots of illegal shit,” David says.
"How about booze and drugs?" Heather asks.
"Copious," David
"Bitchin," Heather.
Oh cool, somebody to constantly hear my thoughts and narration. And from the dumb-ass who tried to drink draino.
“Shut up Heather,” Heather mutters.
Sorry Heath—wait, no I’m not!
“Pretty sure his name is Josh,” David says.
“Sorry, force of habit.”
“Nah, I can dig it,” David says with a smile.
He reaches the door to the hangar, his hand on the knob.
“I can’t guarantee I’ll always be there, I still have my main haunt of Veronica to take care of, but I’ll be sure to stop by more often,” Heather says.
David opens the door, revealing the hangar where Dark Ace’s ship is presently waiting.
Along with a collection of stormtroopers, all aiming their laser rifles at David.
Behind them, Dark Ace and Argit are tied up against a pole while Larxene lingers next to them, tossing the crystal up and down in her hand.
Noxorus is next to her, his sword bared and his scowl quite noticeable.
Heather decides to speak, “Now is not one of those times. Good luck David! Good luck Heather!”
Apparently my name is Heather now.
Miss Chandler then kind of fades back into the air, seemingly disappearing to leave David to his fate.
On the plus side, at least this means he’ll be kept busy. Hopefully he can make it by the next Trauma.
If you need me, I'll be watching some YouTube. Good luck David!
For the sake of reference, this report was first filed on June 24, 2019. Due to its dense nature, it has been split into parts for convenience. Please see further parts for further analysis. As of present, David Hunter is under Council holding for an indiscernible amount of time. It is of note that he is allowed access to his job and a brief period outside of holding of up to two hours.
Further evaluation as it pertains to David Hunter will be assessed at the discretion of senior council members Jack Hunter, Professor Paradox, and Jack Spicer at a future, unspecified date.**
It’s like a factory in here. Or at least like the manufacture line in League of Extraordinary Gentlemen. You know, when Sean Connery and the Gang went to stop Moriarty and the Misfits and one of the bad guys drank all of Hyde’s juice and turned him into totally-not-Red Hulk?
No?
Whatever, the point is, David Hunter enters the door that leads to this manufacture line that looks like the one in League of Extraordinary genetleman.
How'd he get here? He was following Larxene—the cloaked babe with blonde hair and a penchant for fancy knives—for a while through countless corridors with countless rooms. Seriously, it’s like Castle Obliv—
Oh wait, it is Castle Oblivion, duh. They must’ve been able to secure it before the timeline caught up. Funny how dimensions work.
It’s actually not.
It’s actually pretty fucking confusing.
Nonetheless, this Castle Oblivion that is still Castle Oblivion and not the Land of Departure as of yet is apparently where Noxorus and his gang of many malicious minions have called their base of operations. Apparently it’s still fairly uncharted by the Council so they wouldn’t really think about it in terms of where bad guys would hang out.
It's as ironic as they are, apparently, ingenious.
David, adorned in a black shirt with a purple unicorn on it with a broken horn and his standard blue jeans, follows Larxene through a door. Why is he here in Castle Oblivion? Because he finally decided on what he wanted to do! Do you get to see it?
**Addendum: According to the council they are not legally obligated to show you. See the disclaimer at the start of the report for reference.**
The backpack he’s on is new, but fairly ignored by the various villains he’s caught the eye of.
Speaking of catching eyes, David’s manage to fall on a laser.
Sorry, let me correct that.
David’s manage to fall on a Laser, sitting in the middle of the large room. Not unlike the three found on Earth, this one’s main difference is its size. What the Council’s lacks in substance, this one makes up for in sheer size. What Mr. Silver’s lacks in room, this one makes up for in simplicity. What Jack’s lacks in ingenuity, this one makes up for in convenience.
It’s big, yes, but it’s fairly easy to work with. Pick a location on the computer, than a dimension, press a few buttons, boom, voila, instant laser beam via the Cyclonian crystal used as its power source.
It’d be a hell of a catch if it wasn’t presently in the hands of the biggest bad ever.
“Here he is boss. Untouched and unscratched, just like you asked,” Larxene says.
David looks over at Noxorus, presently watching over the room.
“It’s okay Larxene, I know you wanted the foreplay too,” the former says.
She grabs a knife, looking to aim it at David. Noxorus holds his right hand up.
With a huff, she puts the knife away. David hears her stomping off behind him. To his credit, he is too focused on the magnificence of the Laser.
“Impressive, isn’t it?” Noxorus asks, his trusty sword in both his hands, the point of it aimed towards the floor.
David shakes his head, getting himself back together.
“What, Larxene? Nah, Wuya has her beat anyday.”
He moves his head to the right, narrowly avoiding a knife which flies by his ear. It collides against the floor with a repeated clang.
“Must you taunt her?” Noxorus asks.
“Do I need to? No. Do I want to? Absolutely, but enough pleasantries. What’s up with the Laser?” David asks.
Noxorus smiles at this, his black, rough, scaly skin crinkling a bit with the movement.
“The master plan. Powered under the Mistress’ Cyclonian crystal—”
“I believe she prefers Master,” David interjects.
I suppose of all people you would know firsthand.
“—with parts stolen from the lab of Stanford Pines, the most intelligent and successful dimensional traveler not part of the council, and through other technology gathered via the Sorting Hat’s ability to navigate us to where we need to go, I present to you the most powerful interdimensional laser ever built,” Noxorus finishes.
“I’ll admit it, it’s quite a sight,” David says.
He moves forward, joining Noxorus at his side. His backpack is facing the crystal while the two of them continue to talk.
“And all of this would be but a pipe dream were it not for your assistance. I know having you as a freelancer would be the key, and your continued support is exactly what we need to finish the job,” Noxorus says.
David glances over, raising an eyebrow.
“Come again?” he asks.
Noxorus loses the smile, but continues to look out over his menagerie of villains. Dr. Animo, Mercury Black, Grimmel the Grisly, Blackfire, Poison Ivy, Vlad Plasmius, Noah Kaiba, Giovanni, Bloody Mary, and that’s just who David can see on first glance.
The worst of the worst, and all done by removing players who make zero difference at an exact time. And that’s the keyword: time.
It’s all about when you remove them. Whether it be Dark Ace after his exile from the Cyclonian Army or Bloody Mary before the big fight that killed her, the key ingredient to amassing the largest army of villains is to know when to take them so that the time stream and dimensions as a whole don’t collapse. It’s also why Noxorus didn’t set-up his home base in the Prime Dimension. If that collapses than everything else goes with it, which means everything he would’ve worked for would’ve been pointless.
This is why Noxorus is the only person who could’ve done it. Where did he come from? Who is he? Why this huge plan? Nobody knows, and nobody’s been able to pinpoint so much as a hint.
“David, you have been serving me well these past few months. Despite your personal worries getting in the way countless times, you have succeeded at every task I’ve given you. This is why I want you to join me.”
Wait what?
“Wait what?” David asks.
Noxorus continues, “With you at my side, with your contacts and relations, we can make sure this plan goes off without failure. You’ve proven countless times why you’re the best person for it. Join me officially, and everything you ever wanted can be yours.”
Meanwhile—
“Your father? Dead within an instant. Your mother? She’ll be back like what you did never happened. Miss Schuyler? Her love returned tenfold.”
Right, meanwhile—
“That annoying, omnipotent voice that narrates your every movement?”
“Wait, you can hear him?” David asks, damn near screeching in confusion.
“Consistently and persistently. His role? Null and void. Forever,” Noxorus says.
I would very much like for that not to happen.
“Huh. As tempting as that might be—”
Oi! David!
“—I think I’m going to pass. I like what you have going on here Nox, I do, and I hope you succeed. But this was only ever going to be an employer, employee deal. Now that this baby is complete, my job is done. If you don’t mind, I’d like to take my favors now,” David says.
Don’t scare me like that again, you bastard.
“Hm…disappointing,” Noxorus mutters. “But a deal is a deal. Name your prices, I believe you have three.”
“Favor number one, let Dark Ace's contract go. You have plenty of capable pilots, some nearly as good as him. As nice as having the best would be, you can live without him,” David says.
“Unfortunate, but okay. Granted,” Noxorus.
“Favor number two, amnesty to a select number of people: myself, my sister, my step-mother, Argit, Angelica, and Dark Ace,” David.
“No mention of your father?”
“Eh, he can rot in hell for all I care.”
“No Mr. Daemon? No Mr. Pedrosa? Nio? How about that frog princess you’re so keen on avoiding?”
“What, Max? Nah. Good luck killing an immortal guy though. And I like Nio, but he’s been around too long. As for…her?”
David puts his fingers to his chin, thinking a bit.
Eventually, he shrugs.
“Yeah, sure, throw her on there.”
“Your list is reasonable. Granted, although you and your family—barring your father—were always to be spared. I owed you that much.”
“And finally, favor number three,” David begins. “Once you’re done with this bad boy, I want it.”
“You’re referring to the Laser?” Noxorus asks.
“Yes, although if that’s overstepping some kind of boundary than I’d like one built for me,” David says.
“The former is impossible, but the latter can be done. Granted. I cannot express how sorely I am displeased with your decision, but alas, it was yours to make. Please, David…stay safe in the coming war. The portals will be popping up at random, but all those sent out will know who to avoid,” Noxorus says.
David offers the lizard alien his hand, to which the lizard alien accepts. David grips the rough skin of Noxorus before they shake.
Once they let their hands go free, David begins making his way back towards the door he entered in.
“Oh, and David?” Noxorus asks.
David stops, glancing over his shoulder at the big bad.
“Let Dark Ace know of his newfound freedom. I’d like to find a suitable replacement as soon as possible,” the lizard alien says.
David nods, silently accepting the final request.
As David passes by more villains, matching eyes with a lot of them, he keeps on remembering why he's here and what he's doing.
It's something completely innocent and nothing at all worthy of guilt.
So says I.
Me.
And David too. David too, as well, thinks this.
David himself eventually reaches the door that he came in.
He opens it, exits through, and closes it, as quickly as he can without looking like he's in a hurry.
Cause he kind of is.
He releases a sigh, which is unfortunately cut off by a knife against his throat.
“What do you want Larxene?” David asks, annoyed.
With the knife close, Larxene’s bosom pressed against his back, and David himself right against the door, he is in no position to retaliate.
“Just a warning, from me to you. Once the portals start forming, even with the embargo on your life, well…let’s just say that…accidents tend to happen in battle. What’s stopping you from becoming one of those accidents?” Larxene asks.
“Me,” a familiar yet still hauntingly seductive female voice says.
The heat starts to rise, and not just because there are literal boobs pressed into David’s back. No, because of a green flame forming next to both of their faces.
The knife is removed from his throat and the fire dissipates in the air.
Larxene looks back at Wuya, dressed in her usual red robes and looking none too pleased at her protégé/sex toy’s life being threatened.
“Wuya, the queen bitch. Nice to see you—”
One swift elbow to the back of Larxene’s skull later and her body collapses to the floor before she can finish her sentence.
“That is going to be a bitch to recover from,” David says.
“Does he have it?” Wuya asks.
The zipper on the backpack opens up, and two furry hands hold up the crystal that belonged to Master Cyclonis, the one that was previously sitting on the laser in the last room and was swapped for a near identical fake.
Almost got caught. Apparently that lizard fuck can hear me? Damn near narrated the shit too.
The crystal returns inside, and a furry, familiar, mostly friendly face pops up.
“Heya Wuya,” Argit says.
“Argit,” she responds, the ice flowing through her tone.
Argit returns inside the backpack, zipping it back up.
“You have maybe five minutes until he notices. Mercury and I will try and distract him for as long as we can, but look who we’re dealing with. Dark Ace is waiting for you by the exit. You might not make it before he notices the crystal is a fake, but there’s plenty of rooms to hide in,” Wuya says.
David nods his head, beginning to make his way past her. Unfortunately, she grabs him by the arm.
“Hold it. I will need one thing from you before you go,” she says.
“Wuya, we don’t have time—”
She places a quick peck on his lips, just enough to interrupt him, take him off his guard, and make me damn near vomit.
She steps back, winking over her shoulder.
“Try not to die, alright?” she asks.
Argit’s voice pops out from the backpack.
“I would’ve assumed that you, of all people, Wuya, would be supporting this fucker until the end,” he says.
“What can I say?” she asks, brushing a few knuckles against David’s right cheek. “I’m not the mistress of most evil for nothing.”
She waves her fingers behind her, entering through the door back into the room with the Laser.
After another few seconds, David shakes his head to get himself back into the game. He turns around and begins to hustle through the hall in front of him.
“Now I remember why 13 year old me couldn’t resist her,” he says.
Argit pipes up again, “To be fair, 22 year old me still can’t.”
I swear, between an empress threatening your life explicitly and getting a boner and whatever the hell the thing was with Wuya, David’s taste in women leaves something to be desired.
And that’s not even mentioning the frog princess situation.
David hustles, trying to act natural while going at a brisk pace, through the deep white walls of the castle. Rushing down steps, skipping banisters, and ignoring Argit’s distress cries of pain, he eventually manages to reach the last floor…before the PA system kicks in.
“To all of my henchman contained within,” Noxorus’ voice can be heard. “It appears we have a traitor amongst us. If you see the conniving twit that is David Hunter, or his companions Dark Ace and Argit, you are authorized to attack with intent to kill.”
“There’s our queue,” Argit still muffled voice says.
He opens up the backpack, hopping out, crystal in hand. David ditches the backpack, throwing it to the floor to rot.
“I’ll make a break for the hangar, you find a room to hide in!” Argit says, bolting down the hallway as fast as his little legs can run.
David glances around the hall he’s in, looking at a few doors. A few of them have obvious traps in them with nameplates signaling who or what these rooms belong to.
I mean, David might be a dumb-ass, but even he knows rooms that say ‘Safe Room’, ‘Break Room’, and one that just says ‘Chamber of Waking’ are clearly just rooms where people are waiting to ambush him. That last one was just an obvious trap and nothing important at all could possibly be contained within.
Eventually, he finds one he likes: there's no nameplate on the door. He opens it up, revealing a room engulfed completely in darkness. Taking only a few seconds to ponder—most of which was filled with wonder why there is a room full of darkness in this everlasting white—David just kinda shrugs, which is clearly an appropriate response if I have ever seen one.
David enters the room, closing the door behind him. He fiddles with the knob for a few moments, stumbling upon a lock. With the door now sealed and locked, he turns around to lean against the door.
He sighs, closing his eyes to relax, sitting down and slumping to the floor.
He does not expect to hear a voice.
“Holy shit, I wasn’t expecting to have a visitor like…ever,” the voice, decisively feminine says.
He also wasn’t expecting the voice to be a high school teenager.
With another sigh, David opens his eyes, coming face to…corporeal face.
Ghosts.
She’s a ghost.
It’s a ghost.
I’m a ghost.
We’re all ghosts, hey!
“Who the fuck are you?” David asks.
“Uh, rude much?” the ghost asks.
Considering her attire is literally just a red kimono, wrapped around her slim body, David (and me by association) is fairly certain she’s eighteen. Her blonde hair and ruffled clothing leave him to also assume her death was unexpected.
As deaths tend to be, I suppose.
Not that that’s any of David’s business.
“That figures, the first semblance of a human I see in months and he’s a total douchebag,” the ghost continues.
“Oh, my apologies,” David says, his voice taking on a sickly sweet tone to counteract her somewhat innocent approach to this situation. “I was expecting to walk into this stupidly white castle, fuck up the big bad’s plan by taking the crystal, get the hell out of here before anybody important notices, get my ass back home, have a very cheap bottle of beer, and then go on to wrestle a couple of giant-aped pricks. Oh, and I almost forgot, not be caught by anybody, even annoying teenage ghosts.”
Most people would look at David’s tone, decide that’s enough, before turning around or leaving. Or retaliate with a punch to the schnoz.
And if I may quote a controversial internet reviewer: this isn’t most people!
Especially because she technically isn't even a person anymore.
“Wow, somebody’s got issues,” the ghost says.
“Understatement of the fucking year…” David mutters to himself. “Nonetheless, I am forced to repeat myself: who the fuck are you?”
“What, you ever see a musical before? I know it only made it to off-Broadway, but I’m at least worthy of being remembered. I’m not more popular in death than in life for anything, you know…”
David rolls his eyes, standing up to unlock the door. He peaks his head out, checking to see if anybody is walking by or investigating the hall.
“Doesn’t ring a bell babe, sorry,” he says.
When she clears her throat, David closes the door. He turns around and stares at her, fairly unimpressed, as she strikes a pose Madonna wouldn’t even pass an eye at.
The ghost speaks again, adding an edge to her voice, “Heather Chandler. Leader of the almighty Heathers, Queen of Westerburg High, and—”
“A mythic bitch, yeah, I remember now. My sister was obsessed with the show when it came out a few years back. So tell me Heather, what brings you to Castle Oblivion, forward to 'random dark as fuck room'?” David asks.
“Well, if you must know—”
Oh we must, we must.
Through gritted teeth, she continues, “If you must know…”
She begins speaking normally as David opens up the door to check the hall once more.
“…apparently the Laser needed spectral energy from some kind of spirit. They wanted to use some kind of…green portal to get some of it—”
“That explains Vlad’s presence…” David adds-in, mostly focused on the hall.
Heather continues, “—but all of the ghosts inside put up too much of a fight. Well, except one, buuut…”
“Nobody wanted the Box Ghost.
All three of us manage to say at the same time, which is still a bitch to format properly.
“David Hunter, nice to meet you. So, what brought you into the Game, Miss Chandler?” David asks.
He opens the door, beginning to creep down the hall towards the hangar entrance on the other side. Waaay on the other side. He continues to shift his glance around the hall, trying to avoid getting caught down this massive corridor with no discernible hiding spots but more obviously trapped rooms.
Heather just continues to follow, floating along aimlessly.
“Heather, please. Miss Chandler is sooo ’89. Anyway, I was just getting done with my usual haunt of that traitorous cunt of a Heather when a couple of them caught wind of me. Couldn’t tell you who, exactly, but they smelled strangely like wet puppies and fake fur,” she says.
“Jasper and Horace are in too? Neat,” David pops in.
“I haunted them for a bit but they needed my energy and who was I to say no? I haven’t technically been needed since 1989. Thirty years of haunting somebody who doesn’t care about being haunted gets so boring. Honestly, you’re the best person I’ve seen in forever.”
“And isn’t that just a fucking mess of a sentence. I appreciate the tip Heather, but if it’s all the same to you, I’m kind of busy not wanting to di—”
“Tall guy in labcoat on your right,” Heather says.
David sneaks into a door, not bothering to see what it said. Lucky for him and for me, I suppose, there’s nobody inside. In fact, it’s a bathroom, so really we lucked out on all fronts there.
David sees the ‘tall guy in labcoat’ pass by: Professor Membrane, who is probably the smartest person he’s seen so far, and isn’t that just a fucking mess of sentence.
“Thank you for that,” David says.
He exits the bathroom, continuing the walk towards the hangar door. We're almost there, a solid minute or two and he’ll be scot free.
“Can anybody see you or is it just me? Not sure how this type of haunting works.”
Heather is happy to help, “Oh, it’s just you. To be honest I’m trying to blow this lemonade stand. Any more time in that room and I’ll start trying to haunt that weird albino bat…demon…thing.”
“Bartok’s back in the game? Thought that fucker retired.”
“Oh I think I remember that one. Always hung out with that corpse, right?”
Says the woman with draino coming out of her—
“So is that omnipotent voice always a thing or…?” Heather asks.
“Oh, you can hear it too? That’ll come in handy. Hey, if you’re not doing much after this I wouldn’t mind adding you to my crew, or whatever's left of it anyway. Not really a crew so much as a group of people I hang out with and sometimes go to war with. You'll love it. Lots of illegal shit,” David says.
"How about booze and drugs?" Heather asks.
"Copious," David
"Bitchin," Heather.
Oh cool, somebody to constantly hear my thoughts and narration. And from the dumb-ass who tried to drink draino.
“Shut up Heather,” Heather mutters.
Sorry Heath—wait, no I’m not!
“Pretty sure his name is Josh,” David says.
“Sorry, force of habit.”
“Nah, I can dig it,” David says with a smile.
He reaches the door to the hangar, his hand on the knob.
“I can’t guarantee I’ll always be there, I still have my main haunt of Veronica to take care of, but I’ll be sure to stop by more often,” Heather says.
David opens the door, revealing the hangar where Dark Ace’s ship is presently waiting.
Along with a collection of stormtroopers, all aiming their laser rifles at David.
Behind them, Dark Ace and Argit are tied up against a pole while Larxene lingers next to them, tossing the crystal up and down in her hand.
Noxorus is next to her, his sword bared and his scowl quite noticeable.
Heather decides to speak, “Now is not one of those times. Good luck David! Good luck Heather!”
Apparently my name is Heather now.
Miss Chandler then kind of fades back into the air, seemingly disappearing to leave David to his fate.
On the plus side, at least this means he’ll be kept busy. Hopefully he can make it by the next Trauma.
If you need me, I'll be watching some YouTube. Good luck David!
