The Road SAGA So Far:

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2A: The Match

“You’re coming for me. Those were the last words that you said, Petey. They were important enough for you to finish on them. And well… that just tells you everything about what’s happening here, doesn’t it?

Peter Vaughn, Universal Champion.

Desperate to prove himself.

In a hurry to fail.

The chaser.

Gotta say, it’s a rare sight. Kind of beautiful, if I’m being honest. You’re half-owning it too, so I’ll half give that to you, but the other half of you is all over the damn place with it. You know how big this fucking mountain is to climb, but yet, you think you’re the guy to climb it. Let’s break this down, bud, and have a looky-loo at your strategy here. You’ve been hitting the tapes, doing all the classic wrestling things to try and get a read on somebody who just doesn’t subscribe to the same philosophy as you.

‘Cause that’s gonna help, right?

Let’s run ‘em down: Chair shots? Sounds fun, bring ‘em on. Electricity? You uh… you know I’m the Master of the fucking Universe, right?

I HAVE THE POWER!!!

I am the power.

Zap me, cut me, club me, please me, daddy. Keep your secrets about what else you’ve got tucked away in your overalls. *COUGH*Tranq-Gun*COUGH* Me? I’m a doer, not a planner. I’m my own fucking weapon.

I am the fire.

Oh yeah, there’s that too.





For when I’m feeling a little frisky, ya know? Or for when I’m wanting to ruin a well-tenderised steak, just for the shits and giggles.

Oh… what, you thought choosing a contest where I can do whatever the fuck I want to you without rammification worked in your favour? Weird choice, bud. After all this talk about how you’ve found my weakness you then go on to literally give me everything I need to eat you alive. Cage the beast and see what fucking happens, cunt. I’mma tear the very foundations of your world down. And sure, interference is allowed, you’re right. But Peter Vaughn said he’s not going to do that, so we all believe him, right? HEY EVERYONE IT’S TOTALLY COOL, PETEY DEFINITELY ISN’T GOING TO PULL OUT ANY SHENANIGANS! Yeah… right. Denying something you were never accused of is an odd way to try and convince someone you weren’t gonna go there. Do or do not, Pete. Like I give a fuck. In reality, all you can do is try. Just like all the rest of them. Shit, why stop at twenty men, eh, Petey? Bring everyone you fucking know, arm ‘em to the teeth, and we can make a real party of it.

Jesus ball-popping Christ, man. Every time you open your mouth, you're proving the old cliche true. Three cages and I’m not locked in any of them with you.Yyou’re locked in them with me.

And you feel it.

That’s why your whole frame of mind is centred around trying to prove that you’re above me. If I can offer a word of advice, Pete, it’s to readjust your thinking. It’s a win for you if you can even make it to that top cage. But the Universe will belong to me again. No tricks needed.

I’m glad you’re asking the questions though. Am I supernatural? Heh… no. But I did tell you last time that you only know a little about what I am. That ambiguity’s the fucking point, boo. Again, go back and look at the right tapes, ‘cause it’s all laid out for you already. I don’t fight like a ‘god’. Although… Best! Compliment! To! Date! Thanks, bub! But no, not a ‘god’ but a God-Killer. Not a king but a king-slayer. I’m the fucking World-Beater. And this? This is my story. You’re just getting your ass beat in it.

You know, at first I wondered if your little issue with my name is a way for you to try and find something to throw me off. Lou thought I was trying to do the same to him when I called him by his first name rather than his title, but he misread the room just like you would be if you were trying that tact for yourself. Shit, Bobby Bourbon called me George, for Pete’s sake. Sounded a lot more whimsical than ‘Ails’, if you ask me, but you do you. When I thought a bit more on the topic, I figured that you’re not trying to get into my head at all. No… you don’t even understand me enough to know where to fucking start.

I get what you’re really going for though. Not wanting to scream my name? That’s fair.

You’ll be doing plenty of that on Sunday night!

OOOOOH!

Wait, that came out wrong.

Although… you do have that twink body I’m into. Probably about ten or fifteen years too old for my tastes though. Also, you know… you’re a bit of an ass.

And not the good kind, either!

Redux.

Tell me again how you ‘changed my life’. You said I’d deny that, and saying that sort of thing is putting a nice piece of tape over your mouth to block an old fashioned face fucking, but hey! I support your kinks! The thing is, it’s not a denial you’re going to get from me. It’s just a request for more information. Because somehow, right after rattling off all of the War Queens and less than Supreme Machines you’ve beaten, you say that I have been too successful lately? Mr. Three-Pete says that I have been too successful? And that somehow makes me soft? Fucking what? Winning just four fights in a row is such a feat in your mind that you somehow think I’ll start slowing down from here. Peter, Peter, My-Ass Eater, you know four isn’t even half of what I’ve done before, right? I mean, fuck me, that’s the total number of Ls I’ve taken ever. Say that again, Pete. Ever. Everything else in between those failings has just been a relentless fucking force of one thing:

ALIAS.

You know the drill, bud: All that it entails.

But hey, by your logic, with the run that you’ve been on, shouldn’t it be you running out of steam? That’s why I’m not picking up what you’re trying to put down, man. It’s one rule for you, another rule for me. But you explained yourself that this isn’t the way your career started. My man… it’s the way mine has always been. Perpetual motion. Unyielding. Uncompromising. Inevitable. So if you’ve hit a rare patch of luck, with the way you explained my own situation… shouldn’t you be over-fucking-due? I know that the Three-Pete phase in your life is already over, but even so. This isn’t the norm for you. And it’s time for you to come crashing back to Earth. From three cages high.

You helped make me? Ya boy here is doing what he’s always done. But you’re practically begging for me to make you. Well rest assured, I will, Pete.

I’ll make you my next fucking meal.”

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2B: The Freak Show


Drip.

Drip.

Drip.

Cold droplets of water seep through the cracks in the concrete above, splattering on the earth less than an inch from his face. As his eyes peel open, he recoils back from the dripping water on instinct before the fog over his mind starts to fade away. It takes several moments. He clocks that the droplets are just water falling from above, but the tunnel wrapped around his vision takes several more moments to expand. As more stimuli creep their way into his periphery, he rights himself against a wall to support his weight.

The water keeps dripping. A tiny well forms in the bare dirt where it lands and he scans across the ground. Fragments of stone and pebbles litter the surface, creating a bumpy, unforgiving plane. He rubs at his hip, it having borne most of his weight while he had been lying on the rough ground. A couple of small stones fall away from the denim of his jeans and at his touch, the ache creeps to the forefront of his mind. His world becoming internalised, the sensations spread outward from where he rubbed. His back begins to groan and his shoulder begins to tingle. His neck cracks, accidental at first, but then deliberately in an effort to return his body to some semblance of normal functioning. Moving down to his lower extremities, he extends and then retracts his knee several times to try and get the blood flowing again. But then the real source of concern kicks in: His head begins to throb. Pain seizes the sides of his temples and immediately both hands shoot up to his head. He cradles his entire skull, and finds a large lump protruding at the top.

"What the hell happened?" he mumbles aloud. Piecemeal memories stitch themselves back together. The orb - the portal - Mark Flynn - The Exiles - the underground compound - The Witness - the attack. He jerks up, wincing as his body tries to tell him not to. His eyes widen as he remembers the cloud of smoke and the screams of a community in chaos. He's wide awake now. "Witness?!"

No answer comes.

He struggles to his feet and for the first time his vision is clear enough to get a good look at his surroundings. On three sides of the hovel he finds himself in, brick and mortar push back against the earth itself. On the other, steel bars line the front of a cell. Enough space exists between them for the prisoner to get a good look at what lies on the other side, but there is not enough room for him to squeeze his body through. With weary steps he approaches the steel, taking two bars firm within his grip and shaking them with all his might. They don't bend or budge - merely clattering in their joints above.


“Fuck…” he says to himself. With no way through, he’s left to scan the scant space once more to find any way out. Nothing. Literally nothing but the dirt and a couple of rats. Upon his gaze they flit through the bars that he already noted he couldn’t fit through, and they bound their way up a rickety wooden staircase that looms over a stack of cardboard boxes. Elsewhere on the other side of the prison bars, a small metal workbench is pressed against a wall with a rusty red toolbox sitting atop it, and a pair of old metal lockers stand, slightly cracked open.

A loud, metallic rattle snaps the prisoner’s eyes back to the staircase. A door at the top bangs open and two young adults that he guesses are in their early twenties, enter the gaol.

“Well look what we’ve got here, Emily,” the man says. “I knew I heard something down here.”

“He doesn’t look too good, does he, Tyler?”, the woman - Emily - says as the two of them make their way down the stairs.

“I don’t know,” Tyler replies. “From the pictures I’ve seen from him, this is pretty much as good as he gets.”

“Poor bastard.” She shakes her head.

“Hey!” Tyler protests. “He ain’t a bastard!”

“Right,” she backs down. “Of course not.”

“Who the fuck are you guys?” the prisoner growls. “And what am I doing here? If you hurt anyone back at The Exiles’ Compound…”

“You’ll what?” Tyler snorts, unfazed by the threat.

“Hey! Relax, guys!” Emily says, looking back and forward between the two. She places her hands on Tyler’s chest, patting gently to encourage him to calm. Glancing back to the man seething in a cell, she urges him with her eyes to similarly compose himself.

He refuses.

“Let me the fuck out of here!” His hand smashes on the metal bar between him and the two wardens.

“Not happening,” Emily says. She turns to face him more completely, but is careful not to get too close. The prisoner’s body may not be able to fit through, but his arm certainly could. “Not until Dad and his friends get what they want from you.”

The prisoner stares quietly at the woman, lulling her into a sense of security. A quick smash of his hand on the bar makes her jump, and tells her he’s still a danger.

“He’s feisty,” Tyler remarks. Emily jumps again, and the prisoner catches the man’s hand pulling back from Emily’s lower half. “Nothing you haven’t handled before.”

Something in the wink Tyler gives to his partner gives the prisoner the chills.

“Let’s just KO him already so that we can get him up to Dad,” he says. “I’ve got a few better ideas on how you and I can spend the rest of our afternoon.”

“Always in such a hurry,” Emily sighs and giggles. “Have it your way though. I’ll get the gun.”

She moves over towards the lockers, and begins rummaging within. Tyler leers after. The prisoner tries to figure out their relationship, pondering how Tyler’s behaviour aligns with both of their comments about ‘Dad’. Tyler catches him staring and narrows his eyes and gives a look as if to say ‘what the fuck are you looking at?’ While he still wishes death upon the prisoner, Emily returns, rejoining her partner with a new tool in her hands. Looking like a small bubble gun that a child may play with, just made of metal rather than plastic, she points it in the prisoner’s direction.

“What the hell is that?” he asks.

She answers by pulling the trigger. It’s not bubbles that shoot out, but some sort of futuristic (2040, remember?) pulsating waves of translucent blue, emanating as rings that pass through the space between the bars and right towards the prisoner. He can’t get out of the way in time. The rings hit him in the chest, and he drops to the ground immediately. His eyes stay open, and his ears still work, as evidenced to him by the sound of the metal bars sliding up into the ceiling and a pair of footsteps approaching. Two faces enter his visual field, checking on his status.

“All good?” Emily asks.

“Looks like it,” Tyler replies. “Do you want his head or his legs?”

“Legs,” she answers. “You can go backwards up the stairs.”

“Ugh,” Tyler rolls his eyes. “Fine. Let’s do it.”

Tyler scoops his arms under the prisoner’s pits and hoists him off the ground. Emily slides herself between his two legs, and locks them under her arms on either side of her body. The prisoner knows exactly what is happening, but can’t do anything about it as he is carried out of his cell, and towards the stairs. They struggle as they make their way up it. Emily drops his legs a couple of times, whacking each ankle on the lip of the steps at least once. Tyler, in the lead, fumbles with the door, and tries to keep it propped open with his rear as they push the prisoner through.

A quiet beat drums in the prisoner’s ears, as he is carried across a floor in need of polishing. Giant fluorescent light tubes line the ceiling that he looks up to, and only every second one or so seems to actually work. Every now and then, an errant beam of technicoloured light casts across the ceiling as well, warping as the rays hit both the light tubes and the scattered beams and pipes that also weave their way across the roof. With a relatively straight path to walk across, Tyler and Emily only stop once to readjust their grip on the prisoner. The rest of the trip, even though it was longer than the one to get him out of the brig, goes a lot more smoothly.

Voices begin to be heard over top of the beat that grows with every step. Both increase with volume, but the voices win out and by the time the prisoner is discarded haphazardly on the ground - landing with a brutal THUD - he can make out the conversation clearly.

“...okay, but I’m not talking about when there are dogs, or cats available. I’m talking about there being no animals at all. Not even a rat. Not even an ant! How long until you start eating humans?”

“Like… eating their ass?”

“Didn’t I see you doing that last night?”

“Like a fucking buffet.”

“Look, you can start with the ass if you want. But are you going full canibal, right away?”

“If I can start with the ass, then yup.”

“I’d like to start with their soul.”

“How… how would you even do that? Where is the soul located?”

“...in the ass.”

“Fuck yeah!”

The prisoner thinks he hears a high five. He knows he hears Tyler clear his voice. The voices quickly die down in response. He had counted four, and with Tyler and Emily in the mix, that makes six. Six people he would need to fend off, while he can barely–

Ooh!

He tries to clench his fist. It doesn’t work, but his pinky finger twitches. Giving it another go, the finger twitches once more - to an even greater degree! Sensation is coming back to him!

But it’s not there yet.

“He’s up?” one of the voices asks, but the prisoner still can’t turn to put a face to the name. It does sound familiar

“Sure is, Dad,” Emily says. “Where do you want him?”

“Can we put him on a platform over a tank of water, and have people try to throw a ball at a target to try to dunk him?”

“Like a carnival game?”

“Can we at least make it funnier? Like, make the tank full of jizz, or maybe put some piranhas in the water?”

“Wait, do we have piranhas? Why haven’t we used them yet?”

“...No.”

“We don’t have that much jizz either.”

“Speak for yourself.”

“Your dick is robotic, it’s more likely to shoot out oil than jizz these days.”

“Same fucking thing.”

“Is it though?”

“Umm… are you sure we shouldn’t hand him over to the High Lord?”

“We will! But we can at least make a little bit of money off of him first. I’m sure Lord Cumquat will be fine with that.”

“...I don’t know.”

“Wow, you’re still all messed up from when you unloaded your true self against him and he just smacked you around like you were…”

“You to your dead wife?”

“Fuck you!”

“Umm…” Emily pipes up again. “That’s our Mom you’re talking about.”

“Can you just tell us where to put him?” Tyler adds, clearly growing frustrated.

Still lying on the ground, the prisoner tries to move his hand again, and now all of the fingers on both hands can wiggle. He continues to move them, trying to will movement back into the rest of his body.

“Is the holotube clean?”

“Does it need to be?”

“Vita messed it up pretty bad last night. If we want to get the best bang for our buck, we probably want the guests to at least see the poor sonofabitch, don’t we? Instead of just a blood soaked mess? He’s supposed to be our prime Freak!”

“Ahead of me, even?” Another voice. The prisoner realises that there are seven of them now! Taking the arrival of another person as an opportunity to test his limits again, he tries to move even further, being careful not to give anything away. His bicep twitches! He couldn’t have moved it further if he wanted to, but it’s a good sign that he’s improving. With that knowledge, he tries something a little bolder. As the footsteps of the newcomer bring them closer to where he lies, he slowly moves his eyes to the side, being sure not to do it in one sharp movement, lest it cost him everything.

He stifles a certain four-letter expletive (it having become the go to ‘huh’ statement on this journey). He knows the face of the newcomer.

Vita Valenteen.

She runs a finger alongside her lip, cleaning up a small patch of red from the side of her mouth in the process. Briefly, she flashes treacherous canines protruding from her upper gums. This, alongside her still youthful complexion, helps the prisoner understand what this means.

Eighteen years later and Vita is still a vampire.

“You know we don’t consider you one of the Freaks, Vita,” one of the other voices responds. He tries to roll his eyes in that direction. Gently… gently… gently… holy shit! It’s Bobby Bourbon! Bobby Bourbon is here! And is that… a metal nose? “Not like Taco, or Dick Powers, or…”

“Or Jimmy.” Was that… Thunder Knuckles? The prisoner carefully controls his eyes. It was!

“Either way, I’m still in your show every night, aren’t I?” Vita says.

“Yeah, but so is Barney, and he’s one of us,” TK says. “He gets to come and go as he pleases, just like you do.”

“Barney lives totally inside a supercomputer now!” Vita points out. "He went full robot and now he can't even walk if he wanted to!"

"Never go full robot," Bobby remarks.

“But that was his choice!” Who was that? He scrolls around the group again. Charlie Nickles! With breasts? What the fuck?

“Whatever, dudes,” Vita snarks. “You should hand ALIAS here over to the High Lord, or else you’re all going to get super messed up by him.”

“I told you guys!” the seventh, final mystery voice says. One last time, the man casts his eyes in a new direction. He can feel the muscles in his neck tweak at the same time. He’s almost there!

A gigantic figure falls into his line of sight. Big Money Oswald. He seems even taller than usual, but the prisoner quickly dismisses that as just a matter of perspective given that he’s laid out on the ground. Unless…

“Chill, Ozzy!” Bourbon says. “We have a plan! Look, Ems, Tyler, just take him out back with the rest of the Freaks, and we’ll have him on display in no time.”

“Nope!” Charlie interrupts. “It’s lunch time!”

“But Daaaaaad,” the two children whine.

“No complaining!” Charlie yells. “I held your dying mother in my arms…”

“After they killed her…”

Charlie ignores Vita’s attitude.

“...and I promised to raise you kids right! I'm a family man, goddamn it!” He seems to be wilfully ignoring the fact that they’re already grown adults. “That means that when I say it’s lunch time, I mean it’s lunch time. Now get over here!”

“Fiiiiiiiine,” they say, still complaining. Charlie whips off his shirt, revealing that the breasts he had appeared to be sporting were a mechanical pair, seemingly surgically built into his chest. Both Tyler and Emily - Charlie’s children, now grown and apparently back with their father - take up position on a teet each and start suckling. Charlie, meanwhile, looks like he is in pure ecstasy.

“What the fuck?” the prisoner says.

And the world stops.

All eyes fall upon him.

“I smell a rat,” Bourbon says, his metal nose extending out from his face. Some sort of radar seems to rise up from the top of it, and begins scanning the environment. “And urine. A lot of urine.”

“Yeah, I think that was Dick,” Vita says. Bobby nods, as if that is a perfectly normal thing to hear.

On the ground, the prisoner twitches. He tenses. And he releases.

Space Jesus leaps to his feet, ready for battle.


BOOOOOOOOOOM!!!

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2C: The Battle


~~An explosion rocks the room. More follow.~~

It all feels very déjà vu.

~~"We're under attack!" The voice of Big Money Oswald shouts above the chaos.~~

The prisoner swears he's played this game before.

~~Smoke chokes the air from the room. It rapidly grows denser, and even though the group of Bastards are only a few feet away from the prisoners, a hazy wall descends, completely blocking the view of them.~~

"Fuck…" ALIAS grumbles. He feels as though that expression is fast becoming a catchphrase of his in this world. His exasperation stems from remembering why this all feels so familiar. This is exactly how the assault on the Exiles compound began. And back then, as soon as he had said anything, something had taken him down.

He won't let that happen again.

Flinging his body to the side, he dives through the smoke and crashes into the ground with enough force to make everything that didn't already hurt join the pain party. He's really getting sick of being on the ground like this.

Doing his best to ignore the new pain, as soon as he hits the ground, he looks back to where he had been standing. A beam of violent orange light pierces through the fog accompanied by appropriate PEW PEW noises. It's a fucking laser beam! The source of the blast comes roaring through the smoke…

"ROOOAAAAR!" See? Roaring!

Bobby Bourbon bursts through the haze, the metallic nose in the middle of his face now emitting blast after blast of orange lasers.

"Why is he making that noise?" The prisoner hears Charlie Nickles's daughter, Emily, ask.

"I have no idea," her brother Tyler replies.

"Get off me, kids!" Charlie commands, still obscured from sight by the smoke. The sound of extra bodies - likely his two children - sliding onto the ground is heard. "It looks like there are more children who need to be nursed!"

"But Dad, I wasn't finished!" Tyler complains.

"You really need to learn to share," Charlie says. Though still thick enough to conceal the source of the explosions, the smoke has thinned enough for the prisoner to make out Charlie stepping forward, green lasers PEW PEWing from his cybernetic breasts.

"Oz, you know what time it is," TK adds from behind the fading cloud. "Let’s take our fucking pants off!"

Thunder Knuckles rushes through the prisoner's line of sight, his bare ass flapping with each stride. From the centre of his crotch, a metal contraption juts out. His own brand of red lasers begin firing from his dick laser. Only a few steps behind him, Oswald lumbers with gigantic, burly steps. Similarly pantsless, his ass is nowhere to be seen. The lower part of his body is all mechanical! Both of his feet come together and he leaps into the air! White laser-like flames shoot from his feet and he flies forward and into battle.

They're all fucking cyborgs!

The prisoner stays on the ground a few moments longer, just to make sure the coast is truly clear. He never saw Vita Valenteen leave, and Charlie Nickles's possibly incestuous kids are still lingering about in the back somewhere. No further movement seems to occur though, so he chances his luck. The sounds of battle ring out from the other side of the room, and that’s the direction that he bolts in. The smoke parts and he bursts out from it, just in time to see cyber-Oswald swat at a banana-lime blur. Ruby's added speed sends her flying into a wall, but just as Oswald seeks to take advantage, he is batted away himself by the strength of Unknown Soldier.

The Exiles are here!


Scouring the battlefield, the Bastard-Tamer spots the North Korean War Criminal holding a typical (by the standards of 2022) rifle in front of his eyes, sending round after round in the direction of Bobby Bourbon and Thunder Knuckles. Their respective nose and cock lasers are able to disintegrate most of the more dangerously-aimed bullets before they can hit their target. The shells they miss are far enough away that they can scream into the smokescreen behind the Bastards without much concern. Bobby and TK push forward. NK's assault is enough to slow their progress, but not enough to stop them. The time that he buys, however, gives Unknown Soldier time to arrive on the scene. As he did with Oswald, he clobbers Bobby into the ground, taking one laser out of the fight. TK turns his dick towards Soldier (something that most have learned not to do over the years), and Soldier grabs a hold of the cybernetic implant and lifts TK over his head by his member. Red lasers still fire, and Soldier is careful to point them away from him as he winds up a tremendous throw.

A burst of green shoots into his side. He drops TK, and topples down. He checks on the body armour around his torso, noting the burn marks upon it. As he turns in the direction of the attack, the gigantic metallic breasts of Charlie Nickles bear down on him.

"Got milk?" Charlie asks. Time slows as Soldier sees the green laser beams gather in the aperture where the nipple should be. He prepares to 'hail' for the last time.

Without even knowing what hit him, Charlie is spun in a circle. Just as soon as he regathers himself, Charlie is knocked back from the other side. Unknown Soldier is saved by the blur, as Ruby re-enters the fray. She zips around Charlie, keeping him from getting a clear shot away, while the North Korean War Criminal resumes his volleys at the rising Bobby and TK. A shadow casts over him, and the massive frame of Oswald comes crashing towards him following a leap enhanced by post-space-age technology. NK barely gets out of the way in time, but finds himself backed into a corner. Ruby and Soldier do their best to try and get to him, but the combined lasers of Charlie, Bobby, and TK keep them away. The prisoner starts to scramble through the carnage to try and help, but he's worried he'll be too late.

BOOOOOOM!

Another explosion rocks the building, and firing a similar rifle to the one wielded by NK, Frankie Duke comes storming into the melee. Oswald leaps to freedom, giving NK time to reposition himself. On opposite ends of the battleground, Frankie and NK take up stations and pepper the battle with bullets, helping Ruby and Soldier push The Bastards back. The tide looks to be turned, and the prisoner artfully dodges his way through (aided, of course, by The Exiles having no interest in harming him), falling in behind the shelter NK is tucked in.

"How did you guys find me?" he pants, trying to pull his body into the smallest ball he can to avoid any wayward laser blasts.

"It was quite fortuitous, Comrade ALIAS! The Witness had been working to pin down The Bastards for some time now." A burst from his semi-automatic damn near blows the Path-Finder's ears off. "They may have found us first, but no doubt that was a necessity in order to lead us to this victory! I could uh… use some more ammo, however."

The escaped prisoner follows NK's eyes to a steadily depleting belt of magazines, just as the War Criminal latches another into place in his gun.

"I can get some from Frankie?" he half-asks, half-tells. NK nods, and the War-Winner peeks his head out from safety. The Bastards continue to be pushed back, and ALIAS deduces that it’s now or never. He dashes out into space. Sliding over and then under the various pieces of furniture and rubble that block the path, he makes his mad run towards where Frankie Duke has dug in. It's only as he desperately slides around the side of an upturned table that he realises that there were no more bullets being fired from Frankie's corner.

He sees the reason why.

Frankie Duke is pinned to the ground, with his rifle drawn across his throat, cutting off his airways. Tyler Nickles is mounted atop him, choking Frankie with his own weapon. Emily helps to keep Frankie down, taunting him in the process.

"Oh, is the little orphan boy struggling to breathe?" she chides, oblivious to the irony that Charlie had mentioned her and Tyler's own mother having passed - at their hands no less! "You know what they say, the apple doesn't fall far from the tree! Hurry up and kill the little shit!"

"Yeah, that's gonna be a no from me, dawg," Space Jesus says. He boots Charlie's adult son in the side of the head, and as Tyler rolls away, Emily also jumps up in fright.

"You wouldn't hit a girl, would you?" she pleads.

"A girl?" In the middle of a firelight, the World-Eater actually laughs. "You're a Nickles, you barely even count as human."

Emily's eyes widen, and half a second later she lurches for Frankie Duke's rifle.

She gets it.

Right in between the eyes, courtesy of Frankie. Clumsily getting to his feet, Tyler grabs Emily by the hand and pulls her away.

"Forget this, let's get out of here, Ems!" he shouts.

"But what about Dad?" she asks.

"Fuck Charlie Nickles!" the son of Charlie says.


He tugs at Emily's arm again, and she acquesies. The two flee towards a blown-out window, and after pushing his sister through, he dives through afterwards. Frankie moves to follow afterwards, but ALIAS shakes his head.

"Let them go," he says. "NK needs ammo."

Frankie pauses for a moment, but understands. They’re not the fight.

The two turn their attention to the warzone again. Without Frankie's fire-power, The Bastards have been able to start pushing back. Eager to change that, the young Duke lets rip as the two of them sprint from shelter to shelter again. NK moves his ass as well, meeting in a makeshift bunker towards the centre of the room. United again, and able to focus their attention on the four major threats, their bullet shower comes just in time to halt a barrage of every Bastard's cybernetic lasers (nose, breasts, penis, and legs) firing at the same time on Ruby and Unknown Soldier. The two super-powered Exiles take a moment to recover, and just when it seems like the battle is about to be decided, another wrinkle is added.

Movement. To the side of the room.


It's Ruby who first catches a glimpse of Vita Valenteen lurking in the shadows - because of course it is. Vita is careful not to step into the sunny spaces that flood the room as a result of the windows and walls that shattered further with each explosion, but the sight of her old (but still young) friend stops Ruby in her tracks. A nose blast from Bobby Bourbon impacts into her shoulder. She drops to the ground.

"Ruby!!!" Soldier shouts, leaping into action. Running on adrenaline, he scoops her up into his arms and bolts from danger. NK and Frankie continue their barrage of bullets, but without the two superhumans in the mix, the Bastards find momentum again.

"They're closing in!" Frankie yells over the top of the battle. Soldier brings Ruby to rest behind the same barricade that the others are crouched behind. With nobody out in the field, The Exiles are pinned down and the Bastards know it. They begin to separate, spreading out so that they can fire on The Exiles from multiple angles. Frankie continues to fight, but the futility of the situation is becoming clear to him. "We're sitting ducks if we don’t do anything!"

"It was Vita," Ruby says to Soldier, explaining her lapse in concentration. With the guns still in their hands, NK and Frankie don't seem to hear it. But He does. "She's here. I saw her. I need to help her!"

"I don't know if she needs it," the Wolf-Skinner suggests, adding his opinion where it wasn't asked for.

"She does," Ruby says. She stares a hole through ALIAS's eyes, and gives the World-Eater a glimpse into her history; her pain.

"I'll go," he says. Ruby's face instantly softens as the offer takes her by surprise. "I'm not much help out here anyway, so let me do this. Let me help."

Ruby thinks for a moment, and turns to Soldier for silent advice.

"It has to be me," she decides. "I promised her that I'd help her if I ever got the chance. It has to be me."

"I'll go with you," Soldier promises, but Ruby shakes her head.

"No, you're needed here, my guy," she says. "Without you, everyone else will be flippin' toast."

"All three of you should go."

While the guns keep blasting, and the lasers keep PEW PEWing, somehow all of that seems to fade away.

Cue the Wonder Woman theme song.

Standing behind the under-fire Exiles, without concern for her own safety, is the woman known only as the North Korean War Queen. She is clad in the same all-black gear that the God-Killer had seen her in last time, with the same featureless white mask.

"I'll take care of these Bastards." Metal scrapes on metal as she unholsters her dual swords and a peculiar energy seems to sit upon them. The air quivers with an inexplicable tension.

Ruby doesn't need to be told twice. She takes off, faster than the others can manage, but not at her maximum speed. Unknown Soldier's face shows its concern, but he keeps it to himself. The Soldier-Butcher has noticed that about him in the rare moments he's been able to study that painted face. Whatever life this version of Soldier has lived, has led to him sharing his inner self through actions rather than through words. In this instance, his eyes are fixed on Ruby, who ducks into the shadows ahead and slips into a passageway.

Finding the darkness himself, alongside Unknown Soldier, ALIAS glances back. Aided by NK and Frankie, the War Queen dances from Bastard to Bastard, wielding her weapons with expert precision as she somehow deflects the lasers with her swords. Bobby Bourbon's robo-nose is sliced clean from his face and the War Queen turns her attention to Thunder Knuckles laser-powered phallus. There's no time to see the outcome, however, as they come upon the same corridor Ruby entered and dash inside.

It's dark and quiet. Only their breathing, and the rapid pumping of the stoic Soldier's heart make themselves known. The former prisoner assumes the organ must be larger than usual to fuel his inhumanely strong body, but a part of him also suspects it's related to his concern for the Ruby too. 'Jeez, how the hell did these two ever wind up together?' he thinks, but he doesn't say it aloud.

A commotion is heard up ahead. Both he and Soldier push harder, trying to close ground on their lightning quick companion. They emerge into a dim room in which the smell of copper, urine, and mildew permeates throughout. With only three steps in, he discerns the origin of the former. Blood. A pool of it that sloshes under his boot. He isn't given the opportunity to explore further, as the same noise that drew Soldier and him here pipes up again. The source of that is even easier to identify.

Just as Tyler Nickles had Frankie Duke pressed against the ground, Vita Valenteen holds the Super Dear-o against the wall. Her hands are wrapped tightly around Ruby's throat.

"Vita…" Ruby gasps. "Vita, it's me."

"I know who you are, dummy." The coarseness of Vita's voice is more unsettling than the words. "It's been twelve years, and now you rear your old, haggard face? You said you would help me! You said you would help find a cure!"

"Vita…" Ruby's voice begins to fade. "Vi…ta…"

With her vampiric enhancements, Vita seems intent on choking Ruby to death. ALIAS, having slayed a werewolf back in November, boldly assumes he can take a vampire too, and steps forward.

Unknown Soldier pulls him back.

"She tried to help you," Soldier says when the D’Ville’s Bane is behind him. Vita’s head snaps towards where the two intruders stand. Her eyes glow a terrible red and her face contorts into an unnatural snarl. Unknown Soldier, however, has seen worse. Hell, he's done worse. He steps forward, as calm as ever, hands raised to show he means no harm.


"She was captured," he says. "The day Centurion died, they were on their way to a place where they believed a cure for your condition could be found. But they were ambushed. They tried to fight but… Cent was slaughtered and Ruby was captured. They threw her into a fucking cell to rot."

"How would you know?" Vita hisses. Soldier can see that she teeters on the edge of losing herself completely. Both he and Vita know that it's a position that he can relate to. "You're more like me than you are her."

"No," Soldier says, still creeping forward. "The better statement is that you are more like her than I am. But I'm trying. I was there when she came in. I had been thrown in the same hole in the ground. They tortured her, just as they had already been doing to me. They experimented on us, and we were the lucky ones to even survive. I saw those fuckers carry Morbid Angel's body past my cell. We gained these powers but he, like so many others, weren't as lucky. When we finally were broken free by Smith and Flynn years later, Ruby tried to find you. She tried! But you had vanished off the face of the earth!"

"The Bastards took me in," Vita says. Some of the rage in her voice seems to soothe. "They made me feel like it was okay to be who I am. To be my true self."

She didn't explain what she meant by that, but to all in the room it was clear what she was saying. With the Bastards blessing and encouragement, Vita had been feeding. On humans.

"Vita…" Ruby rasped again. The grip around her throat had loosened as Vita's attention was on Unknown Soldier, but not enough for Ruby to break free, or to fully speak in sentences. She doesn't need to. Soldier knows what she was going to say.

"It was the Bastards that captured us." The revelation hits like a bullet. Vita’s hand falls completely away from around Ruby's throat and the hero slides to the ground. "All this time you were here, they never told you, did they? They're the ones who killed Centurion. They're the ones who sold Ruby and I, Morbid, and so many others off to be experimented on."

"It's true," Ruby says, trying to find her voice. "They're mercenaries, Vee. Selling people to the highest bidder. Whether it's the High Lord or some deranged scientist, all they care about is making a buck. It's how they get their cybernetic body parts. They trade in human lives!"

"Think about it," Soldier says, and his slow creep forward finally gets him where he had been trying to go. Not to Vita or Ruby, but to a lightswitch. He flips it and a bright, blazing white burns its way into the room. Everybody squints, but none are as affected as badly as Vita. When the clarity of her vision finally returns, Soldier's message hits home.

Around the room are cages.

In one, Vinnie Lane's former pet Taco gnaws on a human leg. Bulbous tumours grow on top of each other, weighing down every movement he tries to make. In another cage, an emaciated man sits in a puddle of his own urine, stripped bare with a rod attached where it shouldn't be. It's Dick Powers. Other warped figures haunt their own spaces, and looming above all is a gigantic, antiquated computer screen with Barney Green's face heavily pixelated in the middle. The screen stutters, and for a brief moment, Barney completely disappears.

These are The Bastard's Freaks, of which Vita has been the Queen Bee. And they're dying.

"I… I…"

"You don't have to say anything." Ruby embraces her, and Unknown Soldier actually smiles. ALIAS, having been the catalyst for this reunion, sets to unlocking the cages. The wretched and the damned stumble free, with ALIAS propping Dick up so that he can walk.

And walk they do. Back through the corridor and out into the main room, where the four Bastards are on their knees in a line. Some form of flexible steel cable ties their hands behind their backs, and connects them up with their similarly fastened feet. All four are gagged, and only a few feet away, the North Korean War Queen lords over them with her glimmering swords still brandished. Frankie Duke and the North Korean War Criminal rush to help the stream of degenerates filing into the room.

"Anyone who wants to come with, we'll have a transport here in six minutes," Frankie announces.

"Let's go," Ruby says to Vita, the two still clutching at each other.

"I… I can't." Vita pulls back.

"What?" She panics. She can't lose her friend again! "Of course you can! Come on!"

"No…" Vita steps further back. The eyes of the rest of The Freaks watch her carefully. "Rubes… I'm a monster."

"We can help you!" Ruby insists.

"You think you can, but really… I need to do this for myself." She looks around at the war-torn club, and then lets her eyes fall on the weary faces of The Freaks. Unknown Soldier carries the deformed Taco into the light and sets him down. "Look at all of this. I'm going to rebuild, Rubes. I'm going to give these people a home."

"If you're staying, then I'm staying too," Ruby says.

"You don't have to–"

"I want to," Ruby interrupts.

"And so am I," Soldier adds. Ruby smiles sweetly at him.

"Guys, we need you," Frankie pleads. Losing both Ruby and Unknown Soldier would be disastrous to The Exiles cause! They're among the heaviest hitters there are.

"I'm sorry, but–"

"Let them stay," the War Queen speaks. "The movement isn't about forcing our will on anyone else. That's not what He was trying to achieve."

She looks at ALIAS while she speaks, but he knows it's not him that she's really speaking of. It's their version of him. The one who is M.I.A. The one he is somehow supposed to replace. Frankie looks to NK for support, but finds none. Inside, he knows what the War Queen is saying is true. The freedom to choose must remain paramount. Without it, they would be just as bad as the High Lord.

"Our ride's here in one minute," he says, accepting what must be done.

Goodbyes are said. Some of The Freaks elect to return with The Exiles, others opt to stay with Vita. The Bastards, void of their cybernetics, are all loaded up to be shipped back to The Exiles base. The Legend-Breaker realises that he doesn't even know where that will be, given the attack that led to his capture.

Ruby and Vita both thank him, as he joins the queue to leave. But it’s Unknown Soldier who leaves a lasting imprint. Shaking his hand, he repeats a phrase that he had said when first discovering this time-travelling ALIAS roaming the city ruins.

"Hail ALIAS."

There's something in that statement that gives him the chills.

---

---

---

2D: The Reason

“So let me get this straight, Pete… you had a clause that if Jim Caedus died, you’d get the championship? Well now it all makes sense, ‘cause that sumbitch sure as shit self-combusted, didn’t he? And then, you got the championship. I guess we can add that to the laundry list of reasons why you’re not getting the respect you think you deserve. Woof.

You’re not going to hear me defending Jim here, Pete. The moment that he said that he didn’t want to cash in the way he then immediately went on to cash in, that cunt exposed his ass for all to see. But Pete, if you really want to know… I genuinely have no clue if the same clause is in my contract. I don’t even know if I have a contract for this, man, and the mere fact that you’re asking about it demonstrates how you’re not understanding the real difference between you and I. I’ll take my rematch as long as it serves my own mission, but contracts aren’t really my jam. Come on buddy, do better. You’ve said how you’ve been paying attention to my matches and that’s cool and all, but you’re going to need to pay attention to more than just those. I told you why about why I want the Universe last time, and if you gloss over that, bud, that’s on you. I just find it strange that you’re making the same mistake Chris did, even though he should be able to give you advice about it. He’s got you contingency planning around whether or not someone dies before the match, but he hasn’t passed a single piece of useful information about me onto you. I guess there’s a pretty easy explanation for that though: He has none. When I put Chris on his ass, his fatal error was the exact same mistake that you’re making: He didn’t understand who I was. No matter how many times I told the fucker that I wasn’t interested in accolades and incomes, Chris kept trying to put me into that bland old ‘hurr durr let’s rassle!’ box. But that ain’t me, Petey Vee. Never was.

I’m not seeking to be the greatest wrestler on the planet, man. Even if I’ve said it a million times, it doesn’t seem to be enough - I’m barely even a fucking wrestler! But when it comes to my fight - not yours, mine - I am un-fucking-relenting. And if you’re relying on Chris ‘I Couldn’t Beat ALIAS’ Page to get around it, then boy… your ass is grass and even Page wouldn’t smoke it.

…

…

- I fucking told you that wasn’t funny, Lance! -

…

You gave us an insight into how you started in this ‘business’, Pete, and you seemed interested in my own story. As I said last time, pal, I’m genuinely trying to help you here, so I’d be happy to oblige. It’s timely too. You seem to think I’d be okay with taking the Universe back through duplicitous means, but even when I cashed in to win it the first time, I fucking fought tooth and nail to keep it. And besides… taking it from you that way would deprive me of smacking you up and down those cages, wouldn’t it? And that… well that’s going to make this whole thing much more enjoyable. Perhaps it’s a fault of mine, then, that I want to make the fight harder for myself. But that’s what I’ve learned, Pete. If it’s not a good fight, it doesn’t do it for me. Not in the ‘getting my rocks off’ kind of way - we’ve already covered how you’re not my type. But in the metaphysical ‘meaning of life’ way. When I cashed in to take the Universe from Chris Page, it didn’t unlock the doors to my own universe that I was sure it was the key for. I needed to earn it the hard way. And I fucking did. And it led me to the answer of the exact information you were wondering about me.

It wasn’t my choice to do this. It wasn’t my choice to fight. It was the only option I was given after losing years of my fucking life. I was stripped of my independence; stripped of my freedom; stripped of my fucking dignity! You want to know what haunts me, you fucking dick? Find out who the fuck I am as a person, and then you’ll have your goddamn answer!

I know what I could have been, Pete. I know what the people that tried to control me wanted to make me into. That little tiff with The Left Hand that you mentioned? That’s what it was all about. People trying to use me for their own purposes. A year removed and I’m still talking about it because it’s all wrapped up in the reason I get up in the fucking morning. The reason I breathe. The reason I fucking bleed. You think you’re willing to do whatever it takes? You don’t even know what that means.

Newsflash, asshole: The Left Hand didn’t do this:





I did. To myself.

Because I fucking had to!

All that shit about the old you being a wimp and a coward sounds like a choice that you made. I was locked a-fucking-way for over a decade, and you think that mopping up shit for a living compares? Go fuck yourself. The old you might not be proud of your actions today, but the old me? He’d be fucking ecstatic.

You want to talk about being ‘out of control’ of your life? Well finally you’re talking my fucking language. Finally you’re getting half-way near the reason I stand here, telling all and sundry that I’m gonna eat the fuckers whole. Know that I didn’t come this fucking far to allow myself to lose control again, Pete! And I haven’t. Everyone tries and everyone fails. But I remain!

Hail ALIAS.

And to have your ignorance surface like this, after I’ve spent over a year singing the same fucking song? That just means I need to fight harder. I get that you’ve got your own story going on, and you’re doing a decent enough job flitting from one idea to another, but you need to hone in, buddy. Do like Mark Flynn would suggest and fucking focus. Understand, Petey, what I’m saying when I tell my own tale.

I have to do this. If I don’t… what’s left, man? I don’t have a family to run home to. Shit, I don’t even have a fucking home.

If I stop fighting, then I may as well stop living.

In short, I’m fighting for my future, Pete. And Exiles or not, you’re not a fucking threat to that. I can’t let you be.

And I mean… just so you know… you say that the Exiles aren’t a threat.

Bitch, they never were.”

---

---

---

2E: The Report


"Report?" The Witness asks of the North Korean War Queen, when she and her team - now dwindled to just Frankie Duke, the North Korea War Criminal, and possibly ALIAS - file into a small room (even smaller than at the previous base). The Witness stands, fully masked, looking out a window into The Exiles new home.

The displaced World-Eater doesn't know how many times the group has had to move. In fact, he doesn't really know much about the group at all.


But as the group had led him into another seemingly abandoned building - this one an old power station rather than a warehouse - he had picked up a sense of unease about the whole ordeal. Perhaps, he wondered, there weren't too many bases left. If any.

The path to The Witness's room hadn't led through the main hall this time. Even so, he hadn't picked up any urgency from either NK or Frankie to check in on their 'homes'. Looking over The Witness's shoulder and through the window, he sees that there isn't much developed in the way of infrastructure. It's probable, he surmises, that neither of the men even had homes here yet. They wouldn't compete for space, though. Even though he had only passed through the previous base the one time, he still recognised some of the weary faces mulling about. But there were so few of them now. The Bastard's attack had been catastrophic.

"Mission accomplished," the North Korean War Queen announces. "The asset has been reacquired."

"And the enemy?" The Witness asks again, remaining fixated upon his struggling community.

"Captured…" the War Queen replies, "...and placed in the shoot. Are you sure we have the resources to continue manning that? They should have been neutralised."

Neutralised. The outsider hears the world and translates it. She wants to kill The Bastards.

"Wait…" Frankie objects. The Witness raises a hand and snaps it shut into a fist, holding it in the air to send a clear message.

"Their employment?" The Witness remarks. He has no will to engage in debates about strategy at this moment, so he moves the update on, all the while still not turning around.

"None confirmed," the War Queen replies, obliging The Witness's desires. "We know The Bastards have worked for the High Lord previously, but it appears that in this instance they were merely trying to cash in on the Wanted posters. Circumstance rather than a deliberate act."

"Nothing is circumstantial." Beneath his heavy mask, The Witness's breath sounds effortful and mechanical. "There are less of your team."

"Zero casualties," the War Queen informs. "There were civilians being kept on site. Two of our–"

"They opted to remain of their own volition?" The Witness asks, before the War Queen finished.

"Yes."

"The movement requires them to be able to make that choice." His words are an echo of what the War Queen had said when Ruby and Soldier had decided they weren't going to return. Letting them hang in the air like that, he turns to face the group.

No.

He turns to face ALIAS.

"Our numbers appear to be growing less with every second that you are here in this world." Mark Flynn. Unknown Soldier. Ruby. Not to mention Corey Smith beforehand. ALIAS knows that The Witness has a point. One way or another, they’ve all left. "The resolve is still strong in those who remained, but it will not last. We need to act. Now.

We need you to stop the High Lord."

He feels the eyes of the others fall on him. Even the War Queen's. It causes him to squirm a little where he stands.

He is the World-Beater, right? The War-Winner. The King-Slayer. The God-Killer. Et cetera, et cetera.

"I don't suppose I have a choice in the matter?" It's a joke. A bad one under pressure, but a joke nonetheless. Based on the way The Witness and the War Queen reacted to Ruby and Soldier's departures. He emphasises the word 'choice' to try and sell it. Nobody is laughing.

With a movement of his head, The Witness instructs NK and Frankie to leave. They comply without complaint leaving ALIAS alone with the two masked figures. There is no specific gesture that follows. Just the vacant, expressionless stare of The Witness towards the North Korean War Queen.

She reaches a steady, calculated hand up to her mask and removes it.

The face underneath is older. Of course it is. But even though the features have aged; even though a scar runs across her eye; even though the joy seems to have been beaten from her over the years of hardship; he still knows who it is.

She was only a child when he last saw her, handing her back to her extended family.

"Paritegi…" he whispers in shock, saying her name for the first time..

He first heard it said as her grandmother took her away four months ago. Shortly after, it prompted a little research. Paritegi was the Korean guide to the underworld, venerated for her role at the boundary between two worlds. She was a goddess.

But to the visitor, she was more:

The Daughter of ALIAS lives.