User:Nighthawkifikation/Imagine Dragons

Summary
Sol and Laika head to a Renaissance Tournament to fetch a Holy MacGuffin, Excalibur. This isn't as easy as they thought. It wasn't easy to write, either.

Plot
You plummet downwards, turning round and round while increasing in speed, directly onto one of the offending grunts’ head. With your (SPIRAL SLICE), you easily tear him apart. His tissues, bones, muscles, and organs quickly dissolve into a red mist as you power through him. His arm, still grasping the sword embedded in the old man, turns limp and falls to the ground.

(DEAD).

                 The other two grunts are obviously caught off guard. You stare them down, before turning your gaze to the girl. However, as you do so, one of the grunts attempts to attack you with what they believe to be a trusty sledgehammer.

                 Unfortunately for him, his attacks do nothing to you but bounce off, thanks to your (STARLIGHT SHIELD). Everyone always seems to forget you have a thin layer of special sparkling stardust coating your body, like coal dust. It’s fashion that’s both fabulous and functioning. You turn around, rifle still in hand, and get a better look at him.

                 Your eyes take in the image of a short, stocky man. He’s bald, completely- he has no eyebrows or body hair- and it makes him appear especially silly. He wears what appears to be a repurposed wrestling singlet, composed of black spandex and thoroughly coated in a fine layer of mansweat. You feel thoroughly disgusted, but it’s not enough to pull your eyes away; it’s too hilarious of a sight to not investigate. He has a single plate of metal to shield his stomach and two hemicylinders of metal, what were probably once pipes, are wrapped around his shins to protect him there. It’s probably not the fastest or warmest outfit possible, but in the post-apocalypse, people take whatever they can get. Unfortunately, this has led to the abandonment of old fashion. You’ve already begun to miss jeggings.

                 However, as you took that time to scan that man’s appearance and concern yourself with fashion, your eyes were not watching the other man. A grave mistake. He took that chance to worm his lanky self around the girl’s body, holding a straight razor up to her neck. As you look at him, obviously not as in depth this time, you notice he has tons of bullets strung together and wrapped around his torso like belts and sashes. He probably should have picked a gun up at some point instead, but this is the post-apocalypse. It’s obvious that no one here ever got a good education.

                 “Oi, don’t move or pretty girl ‘ere gets it,” the man threatens with a cliché and in a stereotypical Cockney accent. You would point it out and question him on it (why are there terrible English accents in France?), but then you remember again that is the post-apocalypse. You totally forgot about how all of England (only England, not the United Kingdom, the British Isles, nor even just England and Wales) just sank one day into the North Sea like it was a Monty Python depiction of Atlantis. In retrospect, it was rather hilarious. How could one nation destroy itself in such a short matter of time? This man must have been fortunate enough to flee across the channel, you come to realize. What a guy. You would ask him for his story if he wasn’t trying to kill an innocent girl right now. Maybe you’ll ask him to write a book on it afterwards.

                 After remembering all of this wonderful lore and backstory, you begin to wonder what you’re going to do to get yourself and two innocents out of this one alive. You have no doubt that you could get yourself out of this one unscathed, but…

                 Oh, crap. While you were looking around to size up the situation, your eyes met the old man’s. He nods at you. He’s thought up a terrible plan and now expects you to play along. He’s going to get himself killed. Oh well, you sigh. You’ll have to salvage this situation. Maybe you can make it out of this one with one innocent living.

                 Starting his plan off to a bad start, the old man manages to muster up an incredible amount of strength and pulls the sword out of his chest. What an absolutely terrible idea. That’s first-aid 101, don’t pull things that are (or at one point were) stabbing you out of your chest. Unless you’re going to move, or something. Just stay perfectly still and keep the stabby things located inside of you where they can’t cut anything else and block off the veins like flood gates. Clearly, the old man didn’t know about this, for some reason. It’s like no one has an education in this day and age.

                 Blood begins to pour out of his wound like Niagara Falls, coating your porch in an ugly coat of crimson. You have no idea if blood is supposed to work this way, but hey, it’s the post-apocalypse. If blood doesn’t work this way, you could just blame it on the chemicals in the atmosphere screwing up natural biology and stuff. You don’t understand suspensions and you don’t intend to.

                 As the man deals with the recoil of unsheathing his sword in a show of extreme gore and blood, Extremo Baldie next to you points to alert his poorly-shaven comrade. You whip the rifle in your hand towards Baldie, smashing it into his neck and snapping his vertebrae out of place. That was very effective.

(DEAD.)

                  As you do that, the old man gathers even more superhuman strength (Seriously, how? The dude just got stabbed in the chest.) and cleaves Straight Razor’s head off. His arms fall and release the straight razor and his body slumps over. Everything he had (including his body parts) falls to the ground and form a rather hilarious pile, where his head is the cherry on top. That’s not how physics works, which makes the sight even more hilarious.

(DEAD.)

                 Instead of reflecting on the hilarity of the morbid gangster cupcake in front of you for any longer, you begin to ponder the strength of the old man who whips swords and knows nothing about first-aid.

<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal;tab-stops:.5in 1.0in 1.5in 2.0in 170.25pt">                 “Incredible!” You shout, not caring if any other street gangsters can hear you. You and the old man can handle them, no sweat. The girl? Well, she would be nothing but a poor doll for the gangsters to all lust over, but maybe that would make the situation even more hilarious to watch. Still, you ultimately decide to lower your voice anyways. “How did you manage to muster all of that strength?”

<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal;tab-stops:.5in 1.0in 1.5in 2.0in 170.25pt">                 Initially, the man has no response. He studies you. Once he can see that you’re not a threat, he gathers his breath and begins to talk. He speaks with an Italian accent and in labored breaths. “I worked for forty-five years of my life down at the docks of Salerno, hoisting crates onto and off of the boats… But… I fear that may have been the last of my strength…”

<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal;tab-stops:.5in 1.0in 1.5in 2.0in 170.25pt">                 Obviously. It’s not like you could just live through a sword wound like that, you realize in retrospect. Well, as long as you’re a normie like that without any cool superhuman powers or techniques.

<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal;tab-stops:.5in 1.0in 1.5in 2.0in 170.25pt">                 He begins to slump over, falling to the ground. You throw the energy rifle to the ground and grab him, quickly throwing him over your shoulder. Your outfit is going to be soaked in blood, no doubt about it, and that slightly aggravates you. You decide to bottle up all of your anger so that you can unleash it on the black behemoth like a Pepsi can grenade. Except instead of spewing soda into the immediate vicinity, you’ll spew raw revenge. Not served cold, either. You’ll be lukewarm, because lukewarm soda is the worst. You would say something about hot soda, but you’ve never attempted to boil soda. You’ll have to try it sometime, you consider, putting it on your mental bucket list. It’ll probably just boil down to sugar and water vapor, but whatever. It’d be pretty cool to watch, at least. <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal;tab-stops:.5in 1.0in 1.5in 2.0in 170.25pt;border:none;mso-border-bottom-alt: solid windowtext .75pt;padding:0in;mso-padding-alt:0in 0in 1.0pt 0in"> Blah blah

<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal;tab-stops:.5in 1.0in 1.5in 2.0in 170.25pt;border:none;mso-border-bottom-alt: solid windowtext .75pt;padding:0in;mso-padding-alt:0in 0in 1.0pt 0in">                 You quickly type in the access code to the north door. You’re not going to write it down here, of course. You know that someone else will read this guide eventually and you don’t want them to break into the Eiffel Tower and steal some Doritos out of your survival closet, provided that your Doritos survive long enough for that to happen. You now idly wonder how long it takes Doritos to decompose naturally without human intervention. You’ll have to run an experiment sometime, where you place large quantities of unbagged Doritos in various environments and record the times it takes for each to erode and join the soil. You can then run more various experiments where you plant crops in the Dorito soil and test for side effects. Maybe you’ll be able to grow Doritos like flowers soon. Now that you think about it, it’s the future. And a sci-fi space future, too. Based on the laws of the universe and happenstance, it is possible for there to be some point of existence where Doritos are being grown as crops. You’re definitely adding “find the boon of Dorito agriculture” to your bucket list.

<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal;tab-stops:.5in 1.0in 1.5in 2.0in 170.25pt;border:none;mso-border-bottom-alt: solid windowtext .75pt;padding:0in;mso-padding-alt:0in 0in 1.0pt 0in">                 “Are you going to open the door?” the girls asks, disturbing your thought train. You wish your thought train was as powerful as an actual train, capable of running over poor broads who dare to interrupt by standing before it. You’ll have to look into that some other time, like next episode.

<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal;tab-stops:.5in 1.0in 1.5in 2.0in 170.25pt;border:none;mso-border-bottom-alt: solid windowtext .75pt;padding:0in;mso-padding-alt:0in 0in 1.0pt 0in">                 You sigh and do as she wishes. She’s no princess, as far as you know. You just saved her life. She has no reason to be this sassy. You think about this for a while as you enter the Eiffel tower. You don’t have a reason to be this sassy either. You blame it on the stress of having a strange flying black man show up in the sky with the intent to kill you while also trying to avoid any unintentional racism derived from calling him black. Why couldn’t he have picked a better color? Why does he have to be such an edgelord?

<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal;tab-stops:.5in 1.0in 1.5in 2.0in 170.25pt;border:none;mso-border-bottom-alt: solid windowtext .75pt;padding:0in;mso-padding-alt:0in 0in 1.0pt 0in"> Blah blah

<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal;tab-stops:.5in 1.0in 1.5in 2.0in 170.25pt;border:none;mso-border-bottom-alt: solid windowtext .75pt;padding:0in;mso-padding-alt:0in 0in 1.0pt 0in">                 “I’m thirteen years old…” Kelly informs you.

<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal;tab-stops:.5in 1.0in 1.5in 2.0in 170.25pt;border:none;mso-border-bottom-alt: solid windowtext .75pt;padding:0in;mso-padding-alt:0in 0in 1.0pt 0in">                 The number dwells in on your conscience. “Thirteen years…” You idly mumble. Thirteen years ago, this girl was born. Thirteen years ago today, what were you doing? You can’t help but feel old.

<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal;tab-stops:.5in 1.0in 1.5in 2.0in 170.25pt;border:none;mso-border-bottom-alt: solid windowtext .75pt;padding:0in;mso-padding-alt:0in 0in 1.0pt 0in">                 “Thirteen years, yeah,” she repeats.

<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal;tab-stops:.5in 1.0in 1.5in 2.0in 170.25pt;border:none;mso-border-bottom-alt: solid windowtext .75pt;padding:0in;mso-padding-alt:0in 0in 1.0pt 0in"> Blah blah blah

<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal;tab-stops:.5in 1.0in 1.5in 2.0in 170.25pt;border:none;mso-border-bottom-alt: solid windowtext .75pt;padding:0in;mso-padding-alt:0in 0in 1.0pt 0in">                 You look at the old man, peacefully resting in his sleep. Or, attempting to sleep peacefully. His breaths are labored. He probably won’t survive the night.

<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal;tab-stops:.5in 1.0in 1.5in 2.0in 170.25pt;border:none;mso-border-bottom-alt: solid windowtext .75pt;padding:0in;mso-padding-alt:0in 0in 1.0pt 0in">                 You sigh, realizing what you’ll have to do if you’re going to do what is right. You quickly and silently conjure a diamond-shaped shard of energy and slice it into the old man’s neck. His eyes fly open, staring at you. He struggles to raise his arm. The site is grim, so you close your eyes and walk away. The shard disappears with your leave, you assume. Hopefully.

<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal;tab-stops:.5in 1.0in 1.5in 2.0in 170.25pt;border:none;mso-border-bottom-alt: solid windowtext .75pt;padding:0in;mso-padding-alt:0in 0in 1.0pt 0in">

<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal;tab-stops:.5in 1.0in 1.5in 2.0in 170.25pt;border:none;mso-border-bottom-alt: solid windowtext .75pt;padding:0in;mso-padding-alt:0in 0in 1.0pt 0in">Jules takes Kelly to another room before he mercy kills the old man

<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal;tab-stops:.5in 1.0in 1.5in 2.0in 170.25pt;border:none;mso-border-bottom-alt: solid windowtext .75pt;padding:0in;mso-padding-alt:0in 0in 1.0pt 0in">Blah blah

<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal;tab-stops:.5in 1.0in 1.5in 2.0in 170.25pt;border:none;mso-border-bottom-alt: solid windowtext .75pt;padding:0in;mso-padding-alt:0in 0in 1.0pt 0in">                 Kelly, resting on the couch with nothing better to do, stares across the empty room at the old fashion TV set. You know the type. Blah blah tv description

<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal;tab-stops:.5in 1.0in 1.5in 2.0in 170.25pt;border:none;mso-border-bottom-alt: solid windowtext .75pt;padding:0in;mso-padding-alt:0in 0in 1.0pt 0in">                 She picks up the remote control off of the table. Fingering and probing the dials and buttons, she eventually manages to find the on button. The television flashes to life with a single click.

<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:normal;tab-stops:.5in 1.0in 1.5in 2.0in 170.25pt; border:none;mso-border-bottom-alt:solid windowtext .75pt;padding:0in; mso-padding-alt:0in 0in 1.0pt 0in">

<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:normal;tab-stops:.5in 1.0in 1.5in 2.0in 170.25pt; border:none;mso-border-bottom-alt:solid windowtext .75pt;padding:0in; mso-padding-alt:0in 0in 1.0pt 0in">You take a seat next to her

<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:normal;tab-stops:.5in 1.0in 1.5in 2.0in 170.25pt; border:none;mso-border-bottom-alt:solid windowtext .75pt;padding:0in; mso-padding-alt:0in 0in 1.0pt 0in">

<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:normal;tab-stops:.5in 1.0in 1.5in 2.0in 170.25pt; border:none;mso-border-bottom-alt:solid windowtext .75pt;padding:0in; mso-padding-alt:0in 0in 1.0pt 0in"> <p align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt; text-align:center;line-height:normal;tab-stops:.5in 1.0in 1.5in 2.0in 170.25pt">YEARS IN THE PAST, BUT NOT MANY

<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;text-indent: .5in">A red robomech (with a rather dapper hat on his head) slowly walked down a forest road headed to nowhere yet somewhere specific, carrying precious cargo in its arms. This robomech was none other than Laika, who you are almost certainly acquainted with, and the cargo in his arms would be the sleeping body of Sol. However, Sol was certainly not the precious part of the cargo. The boy was entirely useless, however, what wasn’t useless was the fancy alien MacGuffin of a wristwatch that had affixed itself to his wrist and refused to let go like a 30 year old man living in the basement of his parents’ house.

<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt">                 You decide to abandon anymore nonsense related to that rather ill-conceived (in retrospect) analogy as you notice the boy waking up like a tiny infant in the robomech’s gun-arms. Perhaps Laika would have made a wonderful babysitter, had he not had actual deadly weapons capable of killing entire companies of men replacing his hands.

<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt">                 “Laika… Where are we?” Sol asked, sufficiently awake to (stuff here)

<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt">                 “A road,” Laika answered. He was a good protector and best friend, but unfortunately, Laika was not the smartest or the most aware being (arguably, neither was Sol, and Sol wasn’t even a good protector or best friend either).

<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt">                 “Oh… But where? And why are you walking in the middle of the road? What if a car would come by?” Sol queried, rather concerned. Out of all of the things he did would consider fighting, cars were not on that list, nor were the people who might inhabit one of those cars.

<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt">                 “I don’t… Know. Somewhere,” the machine-clad man hesitated to answer. He did not wish to disappoint his master. “And we don’t have to worry about cars. I saw some earlier and they all immediately drove away at subjectively high speeds. In fact, I think I’d like to have a car for my next robosuit. They seem much more helpful than gatling guns could ever be.” Perhaps Laika would be right, if they lived in a sensible world and not a world where the inhabitants seemed to come across combat at a disproportionably high rate. Really, it’s baffling how much violence one could find in this given world. If you didn’t know any better, you’d think this was an action show that was so cruel to its inhabitants you would consider it a comedy show, too. Fortunately, you do know better. This is real life.

<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt">                 “Oh…” Sol responded, feeling bad for the numerous people who had driven by on their way to who knows where, only to be scared off by a communist-red robot with machine guns, seemingly something out of an atomic era sci-fi story. Unfortunately for them, too, this was not a work of fiction, but real life.

<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt">                 Ultimately, you decide it’s pointless and moot to consider how cruel and unlucky this existence is and choose to be quiet and content with watching the boy known as Sol explore.

<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt">                 “So… Where are we… going?” Sol asked, unintentionally aiding you in your quest to get the narrative back on track.

<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt">                 “Well, when you were sleeping…” Laika began, before Sol began to interrupt the answer he had sought a few seconds before interjecting more of his own ingredients into the cooking pot of conversation.

<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt">                 “Oh, yeah… How long was I out? I thought I went to bed sometime in the morning… And now it’s…. Still morning?” Sol asked, taking note of the birds chirping nearby in the forest, the dew on the grass by Laika’s clawed mechafeet, and the sun’s position in the sky for probably the first time during their entire adventure. “What time does your clock say?”

<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt">                 “I don’t know, I can’t read,” Laika replied, unfortunately once again disappointing his owner with his own incompetency and idiocy. Sol was about to react to that statement, before the third member of their motley crew interrupted and forced him to react to another statement instead.

<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt">                 “Twenty-four hours, Sol. You slept for twenty-four hours like some sort of freak of nature. Had I not been monitoring your vitals, I would have thought you were dead, or perhaps more likely, in a coma.”

<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;text-indent: .5in">Perhaps the Omnitrix was correct in that Sol was a freak of nature. However, if that was to be true, then a long line of individuals throughout history would have been described as freaks of nature just as well. You see, the men of Sol’s family had a special talent that had been passed down through their bloodline for millennia: sleeping. On the sweet prehistoric morning the first man to bear the name Ezra took his hoe and planted his family tree’s seeds in the cold hard ground of Metaphoria, he began a long tradition. He rested upon the earth, letting his body warm the plants as he slept. This led to an important realization by all of his descendants; why work to solve your problems when you could just sleep through them? (The first Ezra man also died later in that same lumber. As a result of his forty-eight hour nap, he did not wake up to drink anything and died of dehydration. Instead of mourning, his wife constantly complained of how lazy and unintelligent her husband was to do nothing but sleep all day and to change their last name to a crappy reference of a one hit wonder band located millennia in the future. The survival of the Ezra family this long has been cited as proof that miracles undeniably exist.)

<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;text-indent: .5in">You close your hypothetical book of Ezra family history as the Omnitrix once again interjected her criticism-based humor into the mess of a conversation that had unfortunately been birthed.

<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;text-indent: .5in;line-height:normal">“In fact, maybe you are,” the Omnitrix continued to incessantly taunt Sol. “Maybe you’ve been in a coma since the beginning of your journey and everything you’ve experienced has been a hallucination. My, wouldn’t that be a massive copout! God must be one hell of a sick bas-“

<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal">                 “Alright, Trixie. Time to shut it.”

<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal">                 “Oh, we’ve devolved to pet names now, have we? Be careful, Sol. The more you acknowledge the existence of my persona, the more innocent bystanders probably imagine or even depict us as a couple together. Just you and me. Alex and Trixie. The old married couple.” In his mind, Laika laughed at this recent onslaught of Omnitrix quips. Alixie is such a cute ship name, he thought. Instead of writing another list of MacGuffins, he was now going to prioritize writing a crappy fan-fiction of a boy involved in a relationship with his wristwatch. Well, he would if he could. Unfortunately, Laika still lacked hands and guns are not the best tools for typing (you are encouraged to try for yourself).

<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal">                 Sol did not entertain his bipolar techno-bride with another response. He chose to stay quiet. After a few minutes of this stealthy sidestepping, he turned to Laika to speak (as with all children, oaths to stay silent stuck as well as a reused sticker onto Sol). He had realized something very concerning for all parties involved in the making of this epic. He had abandoned the earlier conversation, and with it, the plot.

<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal">                 “So… Where are we headed?” Sol finally answered, finally giving a chance for the plot to enter this world like a meteor rather ungracefully hurdling towards the earth and being incinerated in the process.

<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal">                 The stars of clumsily strung-together plot continuation proceeded to align as Laika began his response. “Well, earlier, while I was walking to California-” At that moment, you realize Laika is incapable of walking to California, as he had ended up going east instead. “I received a beacon from the Space King, calling nearby residents to a combat tournament...”

<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal">                 “Space King?” Sol asked, as thoughts suddenly began to reproduce in his head like hamsters (just as intelligent, too). How could one man rule all of space? The overextension of such an empire would doom it to failure from the start. In addition, you couldn’t even hold a medieval feast, as the vacuum of space would simply refreeze your turkeys, and how could you even consider titling yourself as “king” without throwing medieval feasts? This new form of quasi-universal government simply baffled the poor boy.

<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal">                 “Yes, that’s exactly what I thought!” Laika began, not bothering to explain the concept of space government because he too was too simple-minded to understand (However, Laika was also not concerned with understanding any of the world either and thus never even considered questioning said space government; for some, idiocy is a blessing). “Luckily, I’m unaffiliated with interstellar politics, so I can freely attend this event without any strong emotions. And that’s not all…. Apparently there’s to be a tournament, and if we win… We’ll get to grab a mighty MacGuffin, Excalibur!” Laika announced with such intensity and optimism that it could have moved birds to flight. And it did, because they were birds, and birds are rightfully scared of loud noises, including the noise exhibited through Laika’s voice.

<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal">                 “Incredible… But… Why did you stop walking, Laika?”

<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal">                 “Because we’ve arrived.”

<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal">                 Convenient, you think. Your ceaseless prayers to the plot convenience gods must have been answered. You simply cannot stand any more exposition and you believe your viewers can’t, either.

<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal">                 “If we’ve arrived… then where is the Space King?” asked Sol, looking around. Realizing he couldn’t get a good view from the robomech’s arms, he quickly rolled himself out of his mildly uncomfortable arm-shelf bed and fell onto the road. Unfortunately for Sol, falling onto asphalt is considerably much more uncomfortable than being in a trusted companion’s arms.

<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal">                 Now that he could see (well, once the tears that had now filled his eyes from the pain dispersed), Sol could get an even better look at their surroundings. There wasn’t really anything noticeable.

<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal">

<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal">(stuff)

<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal">

<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal">                 “Hmm… Alright,” Sol thought, cooking up an ingenious idea to pinpoint the exact location of the supposedly incredible MacGuffin boon that he had hyped himself up for. Raising a hand, he looked down, preparing to activate his Omnitrix. “I’ll use Alien 2… The next time we hear that announcer’s voice, I’ll follow the vibrations back to the source…”

<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal">                 “No, you’re not,” the Omnitrix rather respectfully denied Sol, as he recoiled in shock.

<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal">                 “What do you mean, I’m not?”

<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal">                 “First of all, I’m surprised you managed to deduce that the transformation you know as “Alien 2” can detect vibrations. I don’t recall if you learned about that power or not. Well, even if you did, I’d be surprised, because you have the attention span of a housefly diagnosed with severe ADHD.”

<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal">                 Sol likely would have tried to refute that observation with hastily strung-together counterclaims if he wasn’t busy not paying attention and thus proving the Omnitrix right.

<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal">                 “Second of all, we could just head the opposite direction of the birds. Your ‘method’ has too many variables to really be considered a practical one. Really, for everyone’s sake, for your next birthday you should really request an Occam’s razor alongside a regular one. It would be doing a great benefit to all of us.”

<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal">                 You’re not entirely sure if what the Omnitrix is describing could be applied to Occam’s razor, but you don’t really want to overthink anything right now. You just want to get to the plot.

<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal">                 Luckily, Sol’s attention span had recovered from whatever he was thinking about (probably intergalactic culture)

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<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal">                 “Aha! I found it!” Sol shouted, bending over to

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<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal">                 “Oh, what’s this?” The loudspeakers announced. “Two newcomers have arrived, from the backdoor!” Sol didn’t really care for this attention, but he supposed it was space medieval custom to do something like this. He charted it down as an ‘odd cultural thing’, as it’s truly best to not question strange customs and just go along with them until it gets a bit too freaky.

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<p style="text-align: center;">Okay, now here's where we run into trouble. The second half of the rewrite never even got outlined, so it just gets messy from here on out.

<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;text-indent: .5in;line-height:normal">While Sol had been staring out and viewing the arena, Laika had clambered up to the top of the stands. He tapped on the spot next to him with one of his arm cannons. “Sol, up here! It’s a spectacular view!” With that offer, Sol temporarily tore his eyes from the battlefield and hurried to join his comrade.

<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal">                 “Aha! I see some new people are just beginning to join our audience!” the loudspeakers boomed from up above. “For those just joining, be glad I’m here! Who am I, you find yourself asking? I’m Mr. Michael Phoan, your announcer for this event! Convenient, aren’t I? Anyways, let’s recap!”

<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal">                 Two chivalrous figures, clad in armor and clenching weapons, stood opposed. One clearly held the advantage, wearing a scarlet set of armor that reflected sunlight like the ocean’s waves. Despite its color, Sol had a feeling that it was not the armor’s genuine color. The outermost layer looked like fresh paint. The same paint covered his sword and a gemstone that ominously hovered over his head, as if he was a Sim. However, he was not a Sim, he was a coldblooded killing machine. The knight’s opponent was sadly not as fashionable, electing to wear nothing but rusted metal armor and a bucket for a helmet. Sol doubted the reliability of such rudimentary headwear as he quickly stole Hardeen’s hat back from Laika and placed it on his head. Yes, this was much functionable, fashionable, and comfortable. Perhaps we should all wear magician’s hats, Sol thought.

<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal">                 “Blood Knight, on my left here, has the advantage! With his control over blood, he can make his enemies bleed!” What terrible narration, Sol thought, overhearing this. He could be a better narrator than Michael Phoan. “Rust Knight, on the right, has no such powers!”

<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal">                 The fight started, as the two stopped

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<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal;tab-stops:.5in 1.0in 1.5in 2.0in 170.25pt">                 “Noooo!” Sol shouted, jumping out of the stands. He landed on the ground as gracefully as a bipedal cat (very gracefully, because I doubt you’ve ever seen a true bipedal cat) and rushed towards the Blood Knight. Sol apparently lacked any respect for the art of gladiating.

<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal;tab-stops:.5in 1.0in 1.5in 2.0in 170.25pt">                 “Oh, and what have we here!? It seems that a new competitor has entered the fray‽” the narrator interrobanged, studying Sol’s rush intently.

<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal;tab-stops:.5in 1.0in 1.5in 2.0in 170.25pt">                 “You’re not just gonna kill somebody!” Sol yelled, raising his arm in the run. He slammed down on the Omnitrix, requesting a transformation. The Omnitrix complied,

<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal;tab-stops:.5in 1.0in 1.5in 2.0in 170.25pt">

<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal;tab-stops:.5in 1.0in 1.5in 2.0in 170.25pt">                 “What are you guys even fighting for!?” Sol asked, a bit peeved and becoming more offended by the second. He was a ticking time bomb, where detonation means spunky teenager.

<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal;tab-stops:.5in 1.0in 1.5in 2.0in 170.25pt">                 “The thrill of the fight. Pride. Honor,” Blood Knight replied, staring off into the sunset. The waves of sunlight reflected off of his crimson armor. Had he not been trying to kill everyone, he would have been a total babe. “Everything.”

<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal;tab-stops:.5in 1.0in 1.5in 2.0in 170.25pt">                 What a cliché.

<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal;tab-stops:.5in 1.0in 1.5in 2.0in 170.25pt">                 “Excalibur,” the broken and defeated rust knight said, honest in her admission.

<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal;tab-stops:.5in 1.0in 1.5in 2.0in 170.25pt">                 “What?!” asked Sol and Laika. They had both memorized a few of the MacGuffins on the list, and they were sure that Excalibur was one of them. Besides, it was Excalibur. You don’t just have Excalibur and not tie it into the plot.

<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal;tab-stops:.5in 1.0in 1.5in 2.0in 170.25pt">                 “That’s right, folks!” Michael chimed in. “That’s a reminder of the bigger picture here. If you’ve forgotten or just weren’t here, our combatants are fighting for the legendary sword Excalibur! A mighty blade, but not only that! Excalibur is also the trophy of

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<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal;tab-stops:.5in 1.0in 1.5in 2.0in 170.25pt">                 “My name’s Robin,” she smiled.

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<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal;tab-stops:.5in 1.0in 1.5in 2.0in 170.25pt">Michael leaves for a pee break

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<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal;tab-stops:.5in 1.0in 1.5in 2.0in 170.25pt">                 “Pardon my french, Blood Knight… But… Tu es un perdant.” Laika almost forgot to laugh. Gadsio quickly pulled out his pocket notebook he had designated for witticisms and quickly jotted it down under ‘Mediocre’. He quickly

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<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal;tab-stops:.5in 1.0in 1.5in 2.0in 170.25pt">                 Sol’s new body was a very tall humanoid man who stood at a menacing seven feet tall. Despite his height, he was rather lithe. A frilly blood red carnival mask and red horns that curved upwards adorned his smooth white face. His ears pointed skyward, as if he was an elf out of some high fantasy novel. His eyes lacked all color and the sharpness of his jaw, cheekbones, and nose made him appear as if he had been chiseled out of marble. Moving downward, his white skin found itself concealed by stripes and splotches of various shades of reds. The topmost patterns were reminiscent of tiger stripes. Below the stripes, other patterns and shades of red could be found. Underneath the red, the alien’s muscles rippled. Even the tiniest of his capillaries bulged with raw power. (copy what I posted on the wiki) He clenched his fists tight in his hand as he slowly began to move upward with sickening sounds. A sick, contorted grin cracked along his face while he bit down on his lower lip. He was manipulating his own flesh into a twisted variant of flight.

<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal;tab-stops:.5in 1.0in 1.5in 2.0in 170.25pt">                 “Carne Vale!” The Omnitrix bellowed deep within Sol’s mind.

<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal;tab-stops:.5in 1.0in 1.5in 2.0in 170.25pt">                 The other fairgoers stared in awe, even Gadsio. “It seems that the Omnitrix knew that Haemophite DNA was the source of his MacGuffin’s powers, and is now countering it with an actual Haemophite,” he explained, although no one asked. It did help though, and for that Laika was glad. Of course, Laika felt other feelings besides the sudden glee. He also felt confusion. DNA? MacGuffins? What did those two even have to do with each other?

<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal;tab-stops:.5in 1.0in 1.5in 2.0in 170.25pt">                 “Now it’s time for a truly fair fight…” Blood Knight rumbled, as his tendrils of blood flew from his diamond MacGuffin and swirled around his blade, sharpening it. He raised his blade in anticipation of Carne Vale’s attack.

<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal;tab-stops:.5in 1.0in 1.5in 2.0in 170.25pt">                 Carne Vale did not attack, and continued to advance.

<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal;tab-stops:.5in 1.0in 1.5in 2.0in 170.25pt">                 “Get down from there, you coward!” Blood Knight taunted from within his heavy scarlet armor, shaking his blade with mild infuriation. Infuriation, and anxiety. Carne Vale simply radiated an off-putting aura of creepiness.

<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal;tab-stops:.5in 1.0in 1.5in 2.0in 170.25pt">                 Suddenly, without notice, Blood Knight’s blade stopped shaking. It began to tug and squirm out of Blood Knight’s hand, as if it was being spirited away by a ghost.

<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal;tab-stops:.5in 1.0in 1.5in 2.0in 170.25pt">                 “Wh-what!?”

<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal;tab-stops:.5in 1.0in 1.5in 2.0in 170.25pt">                 “Be careful! Don’t cut yourself on the edge!” Robin shouted with good intentions in mind. Even if this was a fight to the death, safety was still the top priority.

<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal;tab-stops:.5in 1.0in 1.5in 2.0in 170.25pt">                 The blade was forcibly pulled out of his grip, flying towards Carne Vale. The flying masquerader outstretches his hand and the blade paused before him. It slowly rotated, with the bloody armor it had been wrapped around in unwinding itself and flying towards Carne Vale. It began to form devilish tendrils sourced his back. When all of the blood had been stripped, the sword clattered to the ground.

<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal;tab-stops:.5in 1.0in 1.5in 2.0in 170.25pt">                 “Incredible…” Laika stared in amazement.

<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal;tab-stops:.5in 1.0in 1.5in 2.0in 170.25pt">                 “Carne Vale! Carne Vale!” The Omnitrix continued to maniacally laugh and echo into the caverns of Sol’s skull. His expression remained sick and twisted, nonchanging.

<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal;tab-stops:.5in 1.0in 1.5in 2.0in 170.25pt">                 Carne Vale crept closer and closer to Blood Knight. The blood on Blood Knight’s armor slowly uncoiled itself and flew towards Carne Vale, just as the sword had. The alien’s bloody tendrils expanded thanks to all the blood, becoming more intimidating than ever. (DESCRIPTION OF ARMORLESS BLOOD KNIGHT). When he was finally around a foot from the Blood Knight, now armorless, Carne Vale stopped twitching and fell to the ground. He rested like a bag of potatoes, in a slumped position. The blood he had stolen from his foe’s weapons quickly sliced him open and retreated into his own veins.

<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal;tab-stops:.5in 1.0in 1.5in 2.0in 170.25pt">                 ''Is he dead? Did that overexert him? Did my blood turn hostile and kill him? ''Blood Knight thought, feeling as if an act of God had just saved him. The entire experience had been very creepy for him, and he didn’t doubt that something weird like that could happen. Wasting no time, Blood Knight made a move for his blade.

<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal;tab-stops:.5in 1.0in 1.5in 2.0in 170.25pt">                 A movement was all he got, for Carne Vale suddenly stood up. The bloody tendrils jumped out from pores all over his body now, as if the stripes were coming to life. His face continued to twist as he extended his arms out in front of him, contorting them as well. Blood Knight stopped in his tracks; not because he was scared, but because now the bloody demon was controlling his muscles.

<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal;tab-stops:.5in 1.0in 1.5in 2.0in 170.25pt">                 “H-how will I… d-deal with y-you?” Carne Vale muttered. His voice lacked empathy. It was that of a psychopath or a schizophrenic, mumbling to themself. “Tendrils… they’ll rip you to sh-reds? C-can… I… Should I… Drain you of blood to see what h-happens? The possibilities are… A-are… They’re endless….”

<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal;tab-stops:.5in 1.0in 1.5in 2.0in 170.25pt">                 The Blood Knight felt immense fear. If this was god smiting him for what he had done, he swore here that he would become as devoutly religion as possible. A few tears were beginning to form, but without control of his own muscles, he couldn’t even cry. My joints… My joints… he begged internally, just as a depraved, whiney stoner would. If only I could move…

<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal;tab-stops:.5in 1.0in 1.5in 2.0in 170.25pt">                 The atmosphere was tense, with all parties still deciding on whether they should intervene. All clutched their weapons and stared with furrowed brows and clenched fist towards the duo, save for Gadsio.

<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal;tab-stops:.5in 1.0in 1.5in 2.0in 170.25pt">                 “It’s not wise to intervene. Just look at his power. I believe, should we anger him, nothing could stop him from turning on us,” the Spaniard stated. Under the Omnitrix’s bloodlusted influence, almost nothing could bring Sol down from his power high. This sort of edginess was a problem that all adolescents (especially of Carne Vale’s species) faced. “We must not even risk uttering another word, as we would risk drawing his attention to us.”

<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal;tab-stops:.5in 1.0in 1.5in 2.0in 170.25pt">                 With that, the other fairgoers lowered their weapons as they continued to watch the bloodshed and carnage.

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<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal;tab-stops:.5in 1.0in 1.5in 2.0in 170.25pt">                 Blood knight gets thrown

<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal;tab-stops:.5in 1.0in 1.5in 2.0in 170.25pt">                 The scarlet ‘tentacles’ slowly extended towards the diamond MacGuffin on the ground. They gingerly caressed it and wrapped around it, as they lifted it towards the sun. Its contents, a red ocean, gently swished and swashed and reflected the sunlight like a shard of glass. Carne Vale bathed in its light in one instant-

<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal;tab-stops:.5in 1.0in 1.5in 2.0in 170.25pt">                 -and shattered it in the text. The shards fell to the ground and scattered. The blood from the diamond spilled and nearly dropped to the ground, before curving up and flying to join Carne Vale’s aura. It seemed as if there were gallons, possibly even a lake, of blood within the diamond.

<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal;tab-stops:.5in 1.0in 1.5in 2.0in 170.25pt">                 Incredible, he has the power to shatter MacGuffins without even touching them… The untapped strength… The crowd stared in disbelief, save for Gadsio, who was not even interested in the MacGuffin. He turned away to study a motion near the entrance.

<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal;tab-stops:.5in 1.0in 1.5in 2.0in 170.25pt">                 Out of seemingly nowhere, the familiar ring of a microphone rang out amongst the fairgrounds. All heads turned to the stands, including Carne Vale’s.

<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal;tab-stops:.5in 1.0in 1.5in 2.0in 170.25pt">                 “And, I’m back from my pee break, and my oh my, what has transpired here?!” the familiar voice of Michael Phoan announced. Carne Vale, on edge and locked in a bloodlusted state, interpreted the man’s words as taunts and quickly began to hover forward to the stands with the intent of taking this new challenger out. Gadsio knew this, and could not let an innocent announcer die. He quickly rushed after him, attempting to save a life.

<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal;tab-stops:.5in 1.0in 1.5in 2.0in 170.25pt">                 Unaware of what was rushing towards him, Mike continued with his work of berating and taunting the tournament’s already-livid gladiators. “It seems like Blood Knight has been thrown out of the fray, and a new competitor has entered the fight!”

<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal;tab-stops:.5in 1.0in 1.5in 2.0in 170.25pt">                 “There’s no way Gadsio’s going to get to him in time…” Laika shuddered. He thought it impossible that his master would go berserk and kill someone like this, out of pure rage and annoyance, but it was going down before his very eyes.

<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal;tab-stops:.5in 1.0in 1.5in 2.0in 170.25pt">                 “Eh. Good riddance,”

<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal;tab-stops:.5in 1.0in 1.5in 2.0in 170.25pt">

<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal;tab-stops:.5in 1.0in 1.5in 2.0in 170.25pt">Gadsio snake-rushes, and then cauterizes the holes on Carne Vale’s body so his blood stops working

<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal;tab-stops:.5in 1.0in 1.5in 2.0in 170.25pt">                 Gadsio swiped the air with his sword. A wave of orange flames rushed out, before dissipating. None of them made contact with Carne Vale, but Gadsio still stood in a combat-ready stance. It was as if he had planned that.

<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal;tab-stops:.5in 1.0in 1.5in 2.0in 170.25pt">                 “What was Gadsio’s attack? I couldn’t see it from back here…” Laika wondered idly, hoping that one of his fellow bystanders would answer his question.

<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal;tab-stops:.5in 1.0in 1.5in 2.0in 170.25pt">                 “He released a wave of light heat… I’m not sure what he’s trying to do with it…” replied Robin, squinting out into the distance. “I think we should get closer.”

<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal;tab-stops:.5in 1.0in 1.5in 2.0in 170.25pt">                 Laika and the other spectators agreed with that, and together they made a dash closer to the fight.

<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal;tab-stops:.5in 1.0in 1.5in 2.0in 170.25pt">                 Carne Vale prepared to move his blood tentacles, but found it incredibly difficult to do for some reason. It was as if he was being smothered in heat. “Wh-what?” he choked, his voice dry. His large, pointed tongue was unable to retreat back into his mouth with all of the heat, and laid on his bottom lip.

<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal;tab-stops:.5in 1.0in 1.5in 2.0in 170.25pt">                 “I see you’re beginning to remember some senses,” Gadsio acknowledged, hearing Carne Vale speak. It was both comforting, to know that Sol was beginning to master this transformation, but also unsettling. What if the poor boy couldn’t control his emotions properly? That could only lead to a disaster. “But still, you must detransform.”

<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal;tab-stops:.5in 1.0in 1.5in 2.0in 170.25pt">                 Carne Vale continued to struggle with the smothering heat. His tendrils were still moving, albeit jittery and slowly. They didn’t pose much of an immediate threat.

<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal;tab-stops:.5in 1.0in 1.5in 2.0in 170.25pt">                 “And now, I will finish my attack,” Gadsio finished. He closed his eyes, and clenched his free fist while using the other to pound his spear on the ground. Flames instantly rushed towards Carne Vale, but not in a destructive fashion. They went neat and orderly to the source of the blood, burning and searing the flesh around his openings.

<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal;tab-stops:.5in 1.0in 1.5in 2.0in 170.25pt">                 The bloody tendrils, no longer connected to the Carne Vale, collapsed and spilled onto the ground. Carne Vale attempted to raise them, but no connection could be made.

<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal;tab-stops:.5in 1.0in 1.5in 2.0in 170.25pt">                 “Incredible!” Laika shouted. “What did he do?”

<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal;tab-stops:.5in 1.0in 1.5in 2.0in 170.25pt">                 “I think I understand,”

<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal;tab-stops:.5in 1.0in 1.5in 2.0in 170.25pt">

<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal;tab-stops:.5in 1.0in 1.5in 2.0in 170.25pt">

<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal;tab-stops:.5in 1.0in 1.5in 2.0in 170.25pt">                 “Whoa, whoa, whoa!” shouted a man, running over from the stairs. (description of the heir guy)

<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal;tab-stops:.5in 1.0in 1.5in 2.0in 170.25pt">“This seems like an inordinate amount of combat going on!”

<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal;tab-stops:.5in 1.0in 1.5in 2.0in 170.25pt">                 Of course there’s a lot of combat going on, you ditzy blonde, Sol thought, but with genuine teenage edge this time instead of biological hormones and chemicals relentlessly assaulting his nervous system.

<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal;tab-stops:.5in 1.0in 1.5in 2.0in 170.25pt">

<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal;tab-stops:.5in 1.0in 1.5in 2.0in 170.25pt">

<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal;tab-stops:.5in 1.0in 1.5in 2.0in 170.25pt">                 “As… Irritating as this chivalrous fellow is…” Gadsio started, as the blonde-r idiot played with his hair. “His suggestions have a bit of truth to them. At the very least, I think you should refrain from activating that transformation again, mi amigo.” Watching his fellow knight toy with his hair only made him more interested in toying with his own. However, this time with his mustache.

<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal;tab-stops:.5in 1.0in 1.5in 2.0in 170.25pt">                 “Omnitrix, is there a way that you can employ a child lock?” asked Laika, with due concern for his master-friend’s well being.

<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal;tab-stops:.5in 1.0in 1.5in 2.0in 170.25pt">                 “Yes, but why would I want to? That was (blood FUN),” the Omnitrix muttered, startling the knight in vane armor.

<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal;tab-stops:.5in 1.0in 1.5in 2.0in 170.25pt">                 Someone has edge issues, Sol thought, before realizing that his friends were considering limiting his powers. That was inconsiderably stupid, he continued to think (a record for him). Should his powers be limited, he wouldn’t be THAT strong. How would he defeat the numerous villains threatening to prematurely end the universe if he wasn’t an overpowered hero capable of godstomping everything within seconds?

<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal;tab-stops:.5in 1.0in 1.5in 2.0in 170.25pt">                 “Listen, guys, I don’t need a child lock. I can totally control that alien’s powers now.” Sol was bluffing. He totally could not control that alien’s powers, especially at that time. If he would have transformed again, he and the Omnitrix would have likely killed all of the fairgoers and doomed the timeline in the process.

<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal;tab-stops:.5in 1.0in 1.5in 2.0in 170.25pt">                 Before Sol could speak another word, a boy, appearing to be around the age of fifteen or sixteen, rushed up to greet Sol. Laika intently studied the boy. He was short and slightly wide. His eyes were a flat grey, as if one was staring into a cloud of smoke. His hair was black and messy, resting above his eyes and obscuring his forehead. Speaking of hair, his mustache was that of a younger boy’s who had not yet realized that he must shave. In contrast to his curls, his facial hair was sparse and straight. When he opened his mouth to speak, his canines were jagged like daggers.

<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal;tab-stops:.5in 1.0in 1.5in 2.0in 170.25pt">                 “That was simply incredible!” the boy spoke with eagerness. “The way you just… threw the red man out of the ballpark! Listen, I’m no fan of baseball… but if I was… That was the best homerun I could have ever seen!”

<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal;tab-stops:.5in 1.0in 1.5in 2.0in 170.25pt">                 “Yeah, cool,” Sol spoke, brushing off the compliment. He had a taste of victory, and now he wanted more. “Laika! That dude’s not going to be bothering us for a while. Let’s go fetch that MacGuffin!”

<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal;tab-stops:.5in 1.0in 1.5in 2.0in 170.25pt">                 With that, Sol and Laika made a rush for the sword stuck in stone. The boy watched with glee, his mouth open in the strangest smile anyone could ever possibly conceive.

<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal;tab-stops:.5in 1.0in 1.5in 2.0in 170.25pt">

<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal;tab-stops:.5in 1.0in 1.5in 2.0in 170.25pt">Fernando comes out of nowhere with his Firewall MacGuffin

<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal;tab-stops:.5in 1.0in 1.5in 2.0in 170.25pt">                 “Not so fast!” a Hispanic teenager shouted. A boulder, which Sol had inexplicably not noticed at all before, had provided exceptional cover for this teenager, who now moved left to block Sol’s path. Sol, of course, did not change his course because he was an idiot, and ran into the shield until collision. It was hot to the touch, as if he had unceremoniously dipped his fingertips into the toaster. He recoiled at its touch, throwing himself backwards until he collapsed on the dirt. He quickly burrowed his hands into the dirt to cool them off. The Latino began to laugh a hearty chuckle. “You can’t get past my firewall!”

<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal;tab-stops:.5in 1.0in 1.5in 2.0in 170.25pt">                 Piecing together what facts he had learned, Sol deduced that this MacGuffin’s powers revolved around defense and heat. He was happy that he knew what fire and wall meant, as well as the shape of a shield. Without those crucial facts of knowledge gleaned over the years, he would be entirely helpless in this situation. The longer he pondered this, he wondered how literal this MacGuffin’s name was. He could not see what this MacGuffin’s powers had to do with Internet firewalls. It was as if this MacGuffin had been haphazardly renamed last minute.

<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal;tab-stops:.5in 1.0in 1.5in 2.0in 170.25pt">                 “Well, what are you gonna do down there? Come on and attack me, tonto!”

<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal;tab-stops:.5in 1.0in 1.5in 2.0in 170.25pt">                 Sol didn’t know Spanish, but he felt as if that was not a kind word denoting friendship. He quickly rose to his feet, pulling his red hot hands out of the savory, cold ground. “Alright, but you asked for it! Literally!” Sol announced, as threatening as usual. He raised his wrist to his hand and prepared to engage in combat with this man.

<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal;tab-stops:.5in 1.0in 1.5in 2.0in 170.25pt">                 However, before Sol could do anything particularly foolish, the Omnitrix enacted its best safeguard: Common sense, an adaption time-tested by a millennia of ‘trial and error’. It pulsed with its familiar white light as it began to speak. “Sol, stop and think about what you’re doing. Do you know anything about this MacGuffin’s powers?”

<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal;tab-stops:.5in 1.0in 1.5in 2.0in 170.25pt">                 Sol clearly knew various factoids about the MacGuffin, such as those acquired through vision, audition, and somatosensation (the others were judged too risky to parse knowledge with, most of the time). “Of course I know about his dumb firewall,” he states, preparing to back up said factoids. “I touched it. It burned me. As long as it doesn’t touch me, or I don’t get burned, I win.”

<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal;tab-stops:.5in 1.0in 1.5in 2.0in 170.25pt">                 In an alternate reality, there is a Sol that becomes a lawyer. Never forget that fact.

<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal;tab-stops:.5in 1.0in 1.5in 2.0in 170.25pt">                 “Sol, I have studied the various forms of MacGuffinery for time immemorial. If it was that simple, I would have not interrupted you. Think about that.”

<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal;tab-stops:.5in 1.0in 1.5in 2.0in 170.25pt">                 Sol did think about that, for a good long while. “So you’re saying I’m underthinking this?” The Omnitrix did not respond to this, which rendered Sol further confused. He wished the watch would just elaborate its emotions through words, as it is remarkably difficult to determine body language from something without a true body.

<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal;tab-stops:.5in 1.0in 1.5in 2.0in 170.25pt">                 Eventually, the Latino man got tired of all of Sol’s thinking. That was the right thing to do. You can’t spend your entire life thinking, you realize. Eventually you must take action, or all of that thinking will be for naught. “Just attack me, tonto!” he shouted, firmly grasping his blue-grey shield with one hand.

<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal;tab-stops:.5in 1.0in 1.5in 2.0in 170.25pt">                 “Let’s dance,

<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal;tab-stops:.5in 1.0in 1.5in 2.0in 170.25pt">

<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal;tab-stops:.5in 1.0in 1.5in 2.0in 170.25pt">                 “Not so fast!”

<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal;tab-stops:.5in 1.0in 1.5in 2.0in 170.25pt">

<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal;tab-stops:.5in 1.0in 1.5in 2.0in 170.25pt">The Khatru arrives, Gadsio kills it but states “I cannot turn my back on its body…” so he cant fight the giant dragon

<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal;tab-stops:.5in 1.0in 1.5in 2.0in 170.25pt">

<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal;tab-stops:.5in 1.0in 1.5in 2.0in 170.25pt">Laika asks why Gadsio cannot move or turn

<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal;tab-stops:.5in 1.0in 1.5in 2.0in 170.25pt">                 “I’m afraid I cannot turn my back on its body. The Khatru have a… tendency to reform. Although, I did temper my spear’s point with a strong poison of my own creation, so it may actually be dead. I don’t consider it wise to risk it, though.”

<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal;tab-stops:.5in 1.0in 1.5in 2.0in 170.25pt">                 The shroud of clouds and mist began to fade, as the sublimination slowed. The figure of a man, albeit a clearly supernatural one, slowly became visible. Its skin, visible when not concealed by the creature’s armor, was not like any natural skin. It was like that of a mummies, without the bandages.

<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal;tab-stops:.5in 1.0in 1.5in 2.0in 170.25pt">

<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal;tab-stops:.5in 1.0in 1.5in 2.0in 170.25pt">

<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal;tab-stops:.5in 1.0in 1.5in 2.0in 170.25pt">

<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal;tab-stops:.5in 1.0in 1.5in 2.0in 170.25pt">                 “As they say on this planet, let’s tango!” Gadsio shouted, BLAH BLAH. That particular one-liner must have originated from the “absolutely terrible” section of Gadsio’s book on witticisms.

<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal;tab-stops:.5in 1.0in 1.5in 2.0in 170.25pt">                 With that final attack, the Khatru’s skin ultimately began to crack and falter. Blah blah. The skin ultimately shattered more and more, fracturing like glass and falling to the ground like dust and smoking a fine white mist.

<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal;tab-stops:.5in 1.0in 1.5in 2.0in 170.25pt">

<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal;tab-stops:.5in 1.0in 1.5in 2.0in 170.25pt">                 However, you will not be viewing that tango at this point in the narration and will instead focus

<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal;tab-stops:.5in 1.0in 1.5in 2.0in 170.25pt">

<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal;tab-stops:.5in 1.0in 1.5in 2.0in 170.25pt">Sol gets the huntmaster to be chased by the dragon while he says bye to Robin

<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal;tab-stops:.5in 1.0in 1.5in 2.0in 170.25pt">                 “Deliver my bow to my daughter…”

<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal;tab-stops:.5in 1.0in 1.5in 2.0in 170.25pt">                 “Y-your daughter?” Sol was not aware that Robin had a daughter. That only made the situation worse and sadder. What next? Did she also have a few pets at home that would need to be let out or they would die from lack of food? Did her aging parents rely upon her income? Something else sad

<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal;tab-stops:.5in 1.0in 1.5in 2.0in 170.25pt">                 “

<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal;tab-stops:.5in 1.0in 1.5in 2.0in 170.25pt">

<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal;tab-stops:.5in 1.0in 1.5in 2.0in 170.25pt">                 Laika quickly turned his guns towards the little goblin man with the intent to end his life, but Gadsio got there first. His rapier quickly found a new home under the Mekanist’s neck, held against the sickly green goblin flesh. With a single flick of his wrist, Gadsio could slice his neck and be over with it all.

<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal;tab-stops:.5in 1.0in 1.5in 2.0in 170.25pt">                 The situation was tense. Eventually, Gadsio sighed and broke the silence. Yet, his blade remained still in place. “I don’t lack honor. As much as I would like to kill you now, I must be chivalrous. Do you have any last words?”

<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal;tab-stops:.5in 1.0in 1.5in 2.0in 170.25pt">                 “Not at all. Just that killing me for that would be extremely hypocritical. You all are. By entering this tournament, she willingly risked her life. And she lost. That’s just how it goes.”

<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal;tab-stops:.5in 1.0in 1.5in 2.0in 170.25pt">                 But when she entered, she probably didn’t consider the fact that she would be fighting a mechanical dragon, Laika thought. He wanted Gadsio to get it over with and end this tiny, despicable man’s life already.

<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal;tab-stops:.5in 1.0in 1.5in 2.0in 170.25pt">                 “With that same excuse, I could just kill you here.”

<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal;tab-stops:.5in 1.0in 1.5in 2.0in 170.25pt">                 “Yeah, yeah, yeah… You could kill me here…” the runt began to crack up and chuckle as he suggested it. He sounded like a pig, oinking and squealing while his soul devoured the looks of despair and rage on their faces. “But, you’ll only worsen your situation! Without me to control it and give it orders, the dragon will run rampant!” Laika wondered about the truth of that statement. Was he bluffing? He wasn’t sure if the Mekanist’s technology had reached that level yet.

<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal;tab-stops:.5in 1.0in 1.5in 2.0in 170.25pt">                 Gadsio did not risk it. He pulled his blade from the runt’s neck and sheathed it.

<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal;tab-stops:.5in 1.0in 1.5in 2.0in 170.25pt">

<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal;tab-stops:.5in 1.0in 1.5in 2.0in 170.25pt">                 As Airtime stared at the metallic monster making a move for him, time seemed to slow to a testudineous crawl. As much as he desired to close his eyes hard so he could clear his mind and imagine something beautiful before he met his fate, he found that he couldn’t. Perhaps it was for a biological reason, such as that this species lacked eyelids (a most impractical adaptation), but maybe it was his own mind reinforcing him. He stared straight ahead at the beast, at its eyes full of lifegiving and lifetaking flames, its black metal, seemingly dripping and sweating as a result of the deadly heat, and the arrows that had been seemingly haphazardly shot at the beast.

<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal;tab-stops:.5in 1.0in 1.5in 2.0in 170.25pt">                 Seemingly.

<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal;tab-stops:.5in 1.0in 1.5in 2.0in 170.25pt">                 They’re beacons, he realized.

<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal;tab-stops:.5in 1.0in 1.5in 2.0in 170.25pt">                 From the sidelines, his comrades continued to shout words of advice and encouragement, believing that he could still manage to defeat the flying menace.

<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal;tab-stops:.5in 1.0in 1.5in 2.0in 170.25pt">                 “Inherit the winds, Sol!” Gadsio shouted.

<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal;tab-stops:.5in 1.0in 1.5in 2.0in 170.25pt">                 “Yes, that’s right, Sol! Do the windy thing!” Laika encouraged, his guns still rotating and at the ready.

<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal;tab-stops:.5in 1.0in 1.5in 2.0in 170.25pt">                 Hearing their words of encouragement, Airtime raised his hands toward the sky, not to admit his defeat but to concoct a deadly storm of a plan. Or rather, continue what Robin had started. Wind began to coil around his fingertips, spinning around and round like a cyclone. No, not like a cyclone. These were cyclones.

<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal;tab-stops:.5in 1.0in 1.5in 2.0in 170.25pt">                 The cyclones spun run round and round, gradually growing a size so large that they encompassed his entire arms.

<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal;tab-stops:.5in 1.0in 1.5in 2.0in 170.25pt">                 DO THE WINDY THING HERE

<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal;tab-stops:.5in 1.0in 1.5in 2.0in 170.25pt">

<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal;tab-stops:.5in 1.0in 1.5in 2.0in 170.25pt">

<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal;tab-stops:.5in 1.0in 1.5in 2.0in 170.25pt">                 “Hey… Where did the Mekanist go?” Laika pondered, turning around and scoping out the battlefield. The little goblin had vanished.

<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal;tab-stops:.5in 1.0in 1.5in 2.0in 170.25pt">                 “Wherever fools go,” Gadsio replied. “I think we might have managed to scare him off of the face of the Earth. Who knows if we’ll ever see him again?”

<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:normal;tab-stops:.5in 1.0in 1.5in 2.0in 170.25pt">

<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:normal;tab-stops:.5in 1.0in 1.5in 2.0in 170.25pt">

<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal;tab-stops:.5in 1.0in 1.5in 2.0in 170.25pt">                 “You know…” Sol said, as he stared out over the carnage and blood. “This wasn’t even really a Renaissance Faire. It was more of a gladiator tournament.”

<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal;tab-stops:.5in 1.0in 1.5in 2.0in 170.25pt">                 “I know,” King Leon sighed. “But it’s tradition to call it the Renaissance Faire. It can’t be changed easily.”

<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal;tab-stops:.5in 1.0in 1.5in 2.0in 170.25pt">                 “It could change here, all you’d have to do is rename it. That’s literally the only thing you’d have to do. Well, no, not really. But still. It’s simple. Just get a new gate and stuff. You’re RICH. You would be able to do it so easily-“

<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal;tab-stops:.5in 1.0in 1.5in 2.0in 170.25pt">                 “Tradition,” King Leon sighed as he walked away. Perhaps he was right. Maybe tradition is more important than efficiency or logic.

<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal;tab-stops:.5in 1.0in 1.5in 2.0in 170.25pt">                 No, you think. He was absolutely wrong. Tradition is just plain stupid and a godawful excuse.

<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal;tab-stops:.5in 1.0in 1.5in 2.0in 170.25pt">

<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal;tab-stops:.5in 1.0in 1.5in 2.0in 170.25pt">                 “Anyways,” Sol started, assuming a combat-ready stance and raising his left hand. “Gadsio… I suppose this means that it’s our time to fight…”

<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal;tab-stops:.5in 1.0in 1.5in 2.0in 170.25pt">                 “Or not,” Gadsio shrugged it off, turning to gaze off in another direction. Gadsio was not the type of person to willingly fight a child, especially under circumstances such as these.

<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal;tab-stops:.5in 1.0in 1.5in 2.0in 170.25pt"> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal;tab-stops:.5in 1.0in 1.5in 2.0in 170.25pt;border:none;mso-border-bottom-alt: solid windowtext .75pt;padding:0in;mso-padding-alt:0in 0in 1.0pt 0in"> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal;tab-stops:.5in 1.0in 1.5in 2.0in 170.25pt">(break here)

<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal;tab-stops:.5in 1.0in 1.5in 2.0in 170.25pt">                 “I need to go, uhm…” your companion mumbles, hopping off of your comfy couch.

<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal;tab-stops:.5in 1.0in 1.5in 2.0in 170.25pt">                 “Ah, gotcha. Bathroom’s the door labeled utility closet. Sorry if it’s kinda confusing, I only moved in here a few minutes ago myself.”

<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal;tab-stops:.5in 1.0in 1.5in 2.0in 170.25pt">

<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal;tab-stops:.5in 1.0in 1.5in 2.0in 170.25pt">

<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal;tab-stops:.5in 1.0in 1.5in 2.0in 170.25pt">

<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal;tab-stops:.5in 1.0in 1.5in 2.0in 170.25pt">POST-CREDITS SCENE

<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal;tab-stops:.5in 1.0in 1.5in 2.0in 170.25pt">                 Walking description

<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal;tab-stops:.5in 1.0in 1.5in 2.0in 170.25pt">                 “So… Umm… Gadsio. You seem to know a lot about MacGuffins, right?”

<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal;tab-stops:.5in 1.0in 1.5in 2.0in 170.25pt">                 “Yes, a considerable amount. More so than the rest of the inhabitants of our planet.”

<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal;tab-stops:.5in 1.0in 1.5in 2.0in 170.25pt">                 “Can you tell us what you see in here, Gadsio?” Sol asked, extending his arm. In his hand, he cupped the crystal ball MacGuffin.

<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal;tab-stops:.5in 1.0in 1.5in 2.0in 170.25pt">                 Gadsio peered into the ball, before shutting his eyes and sharply exhaling. He stopped in his tracks.

<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal;tab-stops:.5in 1.0in 1.5in 2.0in 170.25pt">                 Sol and Laika turned around to face him. “Wh-what?”

<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal;tab-stops:.5in 1.0in 1.5in 2.0in 170.25pt">                 “Nothing. It’s nothing…” Sol’s mind was flooded with solace. Gadsio resumed walking, so Sol and Laika resumed as well. From time to time, Gadsio looked over the horizon. He took in the beauty of the planet. It held an adolescent innocence. Mother Nature was astonishing to him.

<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal;tab-stops:.5in 1.0in 1.5in 2.0in 170.25pt">                 “I suppose I should be honest with you,” he sighed and closed his eyes. Elation began to drain from Sol like a balloon flying through the air. “I see the man who killed my parents and sisters, sitting on his throne of lies and deceit. But I know you cannot see the same.” Gadsio opened one eye, the eye that was closest to Laika. “Laika, what do you see in the ball? I know you cannot see the same.”

<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal;tab-stops:.5in 1.0in 1.5in 2.0in 170.25pt">                 Sol held out the ball in front of Laika. He saw nothing but winter and snow. Snow. Endless snow. When he was young, a child, Laika would always love to head outside and frolick around in the winter wonderland. He considered it B LAH BLAH PORCELAIN FLOWER BUDS

<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal;tab-stops:.5in 1.0in 1.5in 2.0in 170.25pt">                 If there was one thing Laika wanted to do before he died, it was to return home to see the snow one last time.

<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal;tab-stops:.5in 1.0in 1.5in 2.0in 170.25pt">                 “Home,” was all Laika needed to say. Sol looked down at the ground while Gadsio stared into Laika’s helmet, as if he could truly see through the black mirror and into Laika’s true eyes, his windows to the soul. In a way, he could. He understood the hiraeth.

<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal;tab-stops:.5in 1.0in 1.5in 2.0in 170.25pt">                 After letting the somber mood marinate, Gadsio decided to continue the conversation. “And you, Sol? I know you must see something rather intriguing, else you would have no interest in the sphere.”

<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal;tab-stops:.5in 1.0in 1.5in 2.0in 170.25pt">                 Sol looked up, still avoiding Gadsio’s gaze. Eventually, he sighed, and met the warrior’s piercing eyes. <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal;tab-stops:.5in 1.0in 1.5in 2.0in 170.25pt;border:none;mso-border-bottom-alt: solid windowtext .75pt;padding:0in;mso-padding-alt:0in 0in 1.0pt 0in">                 “Nothing. I see nothing.” <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal;tab-stops:.5in 1.0in 1.5in 2.0in 170.25pt">Break

<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal;tab-stops:.5in 1.0in 1.5in 2.0in 170.25pt">

<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal;tab-stops:.5in 1.0in 1.5in 2.0in 170.25pt">                 You’re pulled away from the TV screen as you feel a nudging on your shoulder.

<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal;tab-stops:.5in 1.0in 1.5in 2.0in 170.25pt">                 “Um, excuse me mister, but…”

<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal;tab-stops:.5in 1.0in 1.5in 2.0in 170.25pt">                 You turn around. Hey, your friend got back from her bathroom business. You honestly didn’t notice. If she hadn’t have nudged you, you might be still paying attention to that boy’s antics. What an absolute bore. You hope that the next time you tune it, it’ll be better.

<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal;tab-stops:.5in 1.0in 1.5in 2.0in 170.25pt">                 “Yeah?” You ask. You hope it didn’t come across as annoying. Most things you do generally do have that effect. According to Karma Court, at least, but what does the justice system know about the quandaries and qualms of the day-to-day everyman? Nothing, that’s what.

<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal;tab-stops:.5in 1.0in 1.5in 2.0in 170.25pt">                 You quickly shrug off any more thoughts of Karma Court, for the time being. Don’t want to seem too angry when you talk to easily impressionable teenagers. They’re edgy as is, they don’t need to see any other rebellious role models.

<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal;tab-stops:.5in 1.0in 1.5in 2.0in 170.25pt">                 “Well, um, listen…” She can’t force the words out. She’s stuttering. “I really don’t know what’s happening… First, we got attacked by thugs, and you literally vaporized one into blood mist.” You smile. She’s right, you are most definitely an edgy badass. “Then a mallet bounced off of you. You helped us inside, but now I can’t see my grandpa anywhere…” You stop smiling. Is this it? Do you have to explain the concept of mercy killing to this poor, sweet, innocent, precious teenager? This was why you never wanted to have kids. Oh, wait. Nevermind. She’s not done talking. Another reason to not have kids. “We come over to this couch, and you flick on the TV… And we watch this random boy who looks strangely similar to you having a bizarre adventure and turning into… monsters and stuff…”

<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal;tab-stops:.5in 1.0in 1.5in 2.0in 170.25pt">                 You sigh. You’ve had enough of this.

<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal;tab-stops:.5in 1.0in 1.5in 2.0in 170.25pt">                 “Listen, you’re not in your pants and you’re discussing stuff you think’s strange, which I find perfectly normal and explainable. I assure you, everything’s perfectly normal. You’re clearly just not very cultured. Along with that… Did you even flush?”

<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal;tab-stops:.5in 1.0in 1.5in 2.0in 170.25pt">                 The look on her face shows that she’s not having any of it. You think. You’ve never been good with body language. She points a finger over at the hallway she emerged from minutes ago.

<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal;tab-stops:.5in 1.0in 1.5in 2.0in 170.25pt">                 “Just… Look!” She screams into your ear. Fine, you’ll look. But you won’t be happy about it.

<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal;tab-stops:.5in 1.0in right 6.5in">                 Oh, god.

<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal;tab-stops:.5in 1.0in 1.5in 2.0in 358.5pt">                 APOCALYPSE NOW: “JULES”.

<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal;tab-stops:.5in 1.0in 1.5in 2.0in 170.25pt">                 You will definitely not be happy about this.

NEXT TIME ON SOL 10

OUR TRIO OF MUNDIVAGANT NOMADS HEAD OUT TO AN ISLAND EMBEDDED IN A VERY WIDE RIVER, IN SEARCH OF THE PANDORA'S BOX MACGUFFIN. SOL DECIDES TO TAKE THIS ONE ON HIS OWN, BUT CAN HE HANDLE THE PURE POWER RADIATING FROM INSIDE BOX?

MEANWHILE, JULES FINALLY ENCOUNTERS THE DREADFUL APOCALYPSE NOW. CAN HE DEFEAT HIM WITHOUT THE OMNITRIX?

Notes and Trivia

 * This episode combines portions of two drafts: an original draft and a draft for a one-parter, after I decided to split this episode into two halves to see if it would help me finish it. It didn't.
 * This is the episode that killed Sol 10.
 * I hate this episode with a burning passion.