They were a serious pair, those two. Metatron, lord of the angels and representative of heaven, was dressed in white, an ornate halo floated above his head. His face was wizened and stern, with a long white beard reaching down to his chest. Baal, the lord of the demons and representative of hell, was dressed in red and black, a large crown perched atop his head (a relic from a bygone era). His face was angular, gaunt, and clean shaven, ugly as a spider yet apologetic. Both were dressed in fine business suits, though this is only a fairly recent choice on their part, their attempt at modernization (after all, who’s gonna take two weirdos in robes and cloaks seriously). Seeing that the two lost souls had entered the room, Metatron raised his head a bit, saying, “Ah, Misfit, Mr. Krockman. Please, have a seat.” “Well I don’t see why I wouldn’t. We are in my off-“, Krockman snarked, only to be cut off by Misfit coughing and shaking his head no. Taking the hint, Krockman stopped talking and sat himself down. 

 

Once everyone was settled, Baal began, his voice coarse and tired, “Now then gentlemen, I’m certain we all know why we’re here, yes?” “Yes sir, we understand perfectly,” Misfit said in reply. “And we perfectly understand that whatever actions you take are necessary.” “Indeed, necessary action must be taken,” Metatron quipped as he stroked his beard. “Mind you, Mr. Krockman, we do acknowledge that you are quite effective as the leader of Limbo; always getting the job done (even if the methods are unorthodox). However, we are dealing with a situation that can’t simply be overlooked. Something must be done about this.” “I quite agree, sirs. I quite agree,” Misfit said, causing Krockman to cast a side glance towards the older lost soul. “If disciplinary action must be taken for the parade, so be it.” When Misfit said this, an awkward silence filled the room. 

 

Staring at the pair, Baal asked, “The parade? You mean the Thousand Scrap Night Parade? The one in New York?” “Yes,” Misfit answered, growing a bit confused. “That is what we’re talking about, right?” “Of course not,” Baal answered, shaking his head. “Normally, we would be upset about that, but we were assured by the Great Will of the Universe itself that such an event was... inevitable. Mind you, Metatron and I do not approve, but if it was foretold by the Will itself, so be it.” Furrowing his brow, Krockman asked, “So if you’re not here about the parade, why are you guys here?” Inhaling a bit, Metatron answered, “We’re actually here about a certain issue in Limbo itself, one that you are responsible for. Are you familiar with one Emily Sanchez?” Hearing this, Krockman face palmed and muttered, “Oh goddamn it.” 

 

“You see, Mr. Krockman, when you came to power, you promised us that you would fulfill all the preset obligations... including reaping duty,” Metatron continued, his kind eyes and serene voice hiding a hint of malice. “However, in the past year of your reign, you’ve not only flagrantly flaunted your power, you’ve also brazenly ignored your reaping duty... both times I might add.” Hearing this, a look of hatred crossed Krockman’s face as he retorted, “I can’t believe you’re actually throwing that back in my face again. Did you really think I would kill my own kid cousins? Of course, that didn’t stop you from sending an angel of death to do your dirty work for you.” “Yes, we understand that we overstepped some boundaries and that you may have been a bit biased about reaping children, especially your cousins,” Baal explained hastily. “But the fact remains, sometimes children’s lives are destined to be cut short. We take no pleasure from it, but it’s the truth. However, it’s another matter entirely when you’re reaping adults, especially when your refusal racks up a lengthy list of indictments. Indictments that Metatron will now read out.” “Indictments?” Krockman stated incredulously. “Jesus Christ.” With that, Metatron put on a pair of dainty reading glasses, pulled out a list, and began to read it out. 

 

“Indictment 1: refusing to fulfill reaping duty,” the angel read out. “Indictment 2: revealing the true nature of the universe to your charges (though, given recent events, this is honestly a moot point). Indictment 3: kidnapping another of your charges and sent them to Limbo while still alive. Indictment 4: sent the original charge to Limbo with no way back, also still alive. Indictment 5: allowing said original charge to form her own hotel, and go mad with power.” Staring at Metatron, Krockman interjected, “Yeah, I’ll take responsibility for the first three, but the last two happened without me knowing about them.” 

 

Glowering down at the lost soul, Metatron retorted, “It doesn’t matter if you don’t take credit for the last two. You’re still responsible for all of it, and other than the second indictment, these are all serious issues. Now either you take care of it or we’ll be forced to banish you.” “As if you guys really need an excuse to banish me,” Krockman snarked. “I mean let’s be honest with ourselves, this has nothing to do with Emily or the others. It all comes back to the fact that you guys were so busy fighting each other for control of the universe, that an unaffiliated third party (I.e. me) swooped in and took it from right under your noses and you still haven’t gotten over it.” Having heard this, Metatron and Baal were fuming. “Mr. Krockman, are you aware that your future is on the line?” Baal said, slowly losing patience at this point. “Yes, but are you aware that if you get rid of me, the deed to the universe still stays with the rest of the Seven New Gods?” Krockman retorted smugly. “They’re also loyal to me and my choices, so they’re not really going to be helping you any time soon. Also, considering neither of you have jurisdiction in Limbo, you can’t exactly kick Emily out yourselves, can you? So really, what does banishing me really accomplish?” Having heard this, the powers that be were stumped. Finally, after a few minutes of silently deliberating amongst themselves, Metatron and Baal got up from their chairs and left the office. Before he left, Baal turned towards Krockman and ordered, “Just get the job done, Mr. Krockman, and we do expect results.” With that, the angel and the demon left, leaving Krockman and Misfit alone. 

 

Staring at the door, Misfit sighed deeply in relief. “Well, seems like we got off pretty easily there,” he said as he wiped his brow. “I suppose you’ll be taking care of Emily soon. When will we be doing that?” Krockman simply looked at Misfit, completely stone faced as he answered, “How bout never? Does never sound good enough for you?” Surprised by this, Misfit asked, “N-never? What do you mean never? You this couldn’t be any easier. Just do the job that you were asked to do in the first place.” “Well it’s the principle of it all,” Krockman explained. “Those guys have no upper hand here and they know it. They’ve screwed me over enough times already. Might as well play it out as long as possible.” “Unbelievable,” Misfit said incredulously. “You’re just going to keep ignoring the problem, leave Emily and the others here in Limbo, leave my daughter and my friend at False Orchard for spite?” “Bingo,” Krockman said as he got up. “I mean, except for the last part. That’s just sad. Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m heading out for a drink in the mortal realm.” Growing angry, Misfit shouted, “You can’t ignore this forever! You know that!” Krockman only dismissed this as he left, holding up a middle finger with one hand and making a farting noise with his mouth and the other hand. 

———— 

 

Entering the mortal realm, Krockman found himself in a small town in Minnesota, snow slowly falling on the street that night. Looking around, he saw a little bar on the nearest street corner, rustic, quaint, yet with an almost Eastern European style to it. “Alright, perfect,” Krockman said to himself as he made his way to the bar. “Nothing too fancy. Just go in, get drunk, and forget about everything that’s happened. Shouldn’t be too hard.” When he entered the bar, Krockman made his way to the counter, unaware that every eye in the bar was watching him. Seating himself on a barstool, Krockman did not even bother looking at the bartender as he said, “Yeah, hi, I’m kind of in a rush here, so just get me the strongest stuff you got, make it quick, and money ain’t an object.” Without saying a word, the bartender silently went to work as the lost soul massaged his brow. 

 

As he was waiting, Krockman felt a dainty hand on his shoulder, the smell of perfume in the air. “Hey there, big guy,” the woman said as she gently dug her fingers into the lost soul’s shoulder. “Care to have a little fun tonight? I promise to be gentle if you like, or I can be as rough as you want.” Looking up at the woman, Krockman said, “Lady, I don’t know what you want, but I’m engaged, do I suggest you find someone else.” That’s when he noticed something odd about the woman. Her skin was pale... deathly pale. In fact, the only part of her that had any color were her blood red lips, purple eyes, and platinum blonde hair. It was then that Krockman finally noticed the other patrons, realizing that were just as eerily pale and were now staring at him with blood red eyes. Growing uncomfortable and hearing the bartender place his drink on the counter, Krockman slowly and silently reached behind him, grabbed the drink, and took a swig; only to gag at the weird, metallic taste. “Oh god! That’s rank!” the lost soul shouted between coughs, noting the weirdly gloppy red drink in his hands. “What even is this?!” At that moment, he felt the bartender tap his shoulder, causing Krockman to come face to face with the barkeep’s pale skin and fanged grin. “Bloody Mary,” the vampire bartender answered. “Emphasis on ‘blood’.” 

 

Looking around and realizing that everyone else in the bar was a vampire, Krockman grew nervous as he said, “Okay, look, I’m having a pretty rough time lately, so whatever you guys are planning, I suggest you take it down a peg. I don’t want any trouble.” “Oh, we aren’t going to hurt you,” the bartender explained in a calm tone.  “In fact, we’re grateful for what you’ve done, Mr. Krockman.” Staring at the crowd, Krockman smirked, saying, “I take it you guys saw the HBO press conference. Well, if that’s the case, then you should know that I’ve single handedly created an entire fantasy kingdom from Seattle, including vampires like you. So don’t get any funny ideas, alright?” The bartender only smiled, saying, “Actually, I believe it was a friend of yours that created the vampires (Lamar, I think). But you did do a majority of the work over in Seattle. Can’t deny that, now can we.” “Fine, Lamar created the vampires, but that’s not the...” Krockman retorted, only to realize something. “Wait... how do you even know that?” “We know a lot of things, Krockman. The Council’s been keeping an eye on you for quite awhile,” the bartender explained. Looking surprised, Krockman asked, “The Council?” “The Council of the Inhuman Race,” the bartender answered, “I am Finn, the vampire representative of the Council.” 

 

More confused than ever, Krockman asked, “Okay, I’m kinda lost here. What exactly is the Council of the Inhuman Race, and why are they ‘thanking me’?” “We’re a loose group of, shall we say, fantasy beings who try to live in peace with humanity,” Finn explained in a casual tone. “You see, long ago, the world was inhabited by all sorts of different beings: elves, dwarves, fairies, goblins, those sort of things. However, we were eventually displaced when humans rose to power, being relegated to myths, legends, and folktales. We vampires took the hardest hit, what with the whole drinking blood thing; though in our defense, we only drink animal blood, but that mostly entailed livestock (which the humans took personally).” “So, like, what? You guys were planning on overthrowing humanity or something?” Krockman asked, no less confused than he was before. “No, no, nothing like that,” Finn explained, shaking his head in disagreement. “Even if we did plan something, it wouldn’t have mattered. You made sure of that when you created a world where we could all coexist. Sure, there was a bit of culture shock early on, but we’ve adjusted pretty easily (can’t argue with offers of expired bags of blood from the blood bank).” 

 

At that moment, the vampire woman that tried to seduce Krockman spoke up, saying, “Speak for yourself, Finn. Some of us prefer the old ways.” “Don’t start that up again, Beatrice,” Finn retorted, placing his hands on the counter. “We can’t go around enthralling people and turn them into our slaves. It’s that kind of shit that got us in trouble in the first place.” “Uh, you guys did what now?” Krockman asked, growing concerned. “Oh yeah, we used to do that,” Finn explained. “It’s nothing too serious, just drink a little bit of a person’s blood and transfusing some of our own into the wound in order to make them more subservient. Most modern vampires don’t do it anymore, so no big deal.” “Oh, well as long as most of you aren’t doing it anymore!” Krockman snapped sarcastically when a thought occurred to him. “Wait a minute, Beatrice was it, were you trying to enthrall me back there?” “Well yeah,” Beatrice answered sheepishly. “But only because you ruined everything for me. I had a pretty good system going for me. I find some guy, enthrall him, live the good life for a couple of weeks, then move onto the next guy.” Looking Beatrice over in her fashionable clothes, Krockman said, “So basically, you’re a gold digger.” Hearing this, an offended look crossed Beatrice’s face. “So what if I am? You’re not the judge of me,” she retorted, folding her arms across her chest. “You are the guy who screwed everything up. You owe me one rich guy!” At this point, Krockman was fed up with everyone’s shit, especially this woman’s. However, the more he thought it over, Krockman began to form an interesting plan; one that sent shivers of feverish delight up his spine. Finally, with a condescending smile, he said, “Alright then. I’ll find you a new guy. Just take me to a bar that doesn’t include blood in its drinks, and we’ll call it even.” Rolling her eyes, Beatrice said with a huff, “Fine, deal.” With that, the two left the bar, making their way on the most awkward bar crawl ever. 

 

As they were walking, Beatrice looked over at Krockman curiously. “You seem weirdly able and willing to help me enthrall a guy,” she asked skeptically. “Didn’t you used to be one yourself?” “Yeah, but that doesn’t really mean anything to me,” Krockman said in reply. “I mean let’s be honest, humans really aren’t that great. What exactly have they accomplished that’s so wonderful?” Thinking it over for a bit, Beatrice answered, “Well, they gave us smartphones.” “Oh, don’t get me started on smartphones,” Krockman said in exasperation. “Nothing against them personally, but can you explain to me what the point of creating the greatest piece of personal technology man has ever possessed, equipping it with a camera, only to use it to take a picture of your self eating a slice of pizza, upload it onto Twitter or Instagram or whatever, and just awkwardly stand by for validation?” “What’s wrong with pizza selfies?” Beatrice absentmindedly asked. Hearing this, an irritated look crossed Krockman’s face. “No body gives a fuck about your pizza!” Krockman snapped. “It’s one thing if you made the pizza yourself, but these are usually from Papa John’s or Domino’s. The only people who give a fuck about your pizza are either in the same room as you are, eating the pizza, or they’re just using the selfie as an excuse to post their own pizza selfies and awkwardly stand by waiting for validation. Fuck your pizza and the box it rode in on! Your weird choice of hubris is sucking up my bandwidth!” After hearing, Beatrice grew quiet, stunned into silence. 

 

When they finally arrived at the bar, Krockman looked around cautiously, making sure no one was around. “Alright then, you wait out here,” he whispered. “I’ll go find someone inside.” “Fine then, just be quick about it,” Beatrice snapped impatiently. “Just out of curiosity, how exactly are you going to do it. You have to be subtle about these kinds of things.” Rolling his eyes, Krockman said, “Will you calm down. I got this. I’m actually gonna put a little something into the guy’s drink when I find him, sort of just ‘pre-thrall’ him for you.” “You’re gonna slip him a mickey?” Beatrice asked, a little unnerved. “Not gonna lie, that seems a little shady.” “Yeah, well considering what we’re doing, I think we’re past the point of having the moral high here,” Krockman retorted. “Now just wait out here. It won’t take to long.” As Krockman went inside, he heard Beatrice call out, “Make sure he’s rich!” Krockman only grunted at this in annoyance. 

 

After a few minutes of waiting, Krockman came back out, this time accompanied by a fairly attractive young man. He was dressed in a t-shirt and jeans, a pair of glasses perched on his nose. He had a dazed look on his face, probably a result of whatever Krockman gave him. “Well, what do you think?” Krockman asked, pointing at the man. Looking the man over, Beatrice smirked, saying, “He looks handsome,  but is he rich?” “He’s a programmer,” Krockman explained in an annoyed tone. “He makes a pretty decent living, above average I believe. He’s good enough for your purposes. Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m going back inside and getting wasted.” With that, Krockman went back in the bar, leaving Beatrice and the programmer alone. Looking the man in his dazed eyes, Beatrice grinned as she leaned in towards his neck, biting it and drinking some of his blood. After that, she took out a needle and pricked her finger, squeezing a few drops of blood into the bite marks. With the ritual complete, the man looked over towards his new mistress, completely enthralled. 

 

Smiling at her catch, Beatrice said, “Well hello, handsome. What might your name be?” “I am Theodore,” the man answered in a monotone voice. “My friends call me Ted.” “Well then, Ted, why don’t we go back to your place (or rather our place), and get to know each other a little more... intimately,” Beatrice said seductively as she embraced her knew play thing. Ted only blinked a bit before answering in a more lucid tone, “Oh sure, I just got to stop by GameStop first. I have to pick up a game I preordered.” “Excuse me?” Beatrice said in reply, more confused than offended. “I’m your mistress. I make the orders around here, not you.” “Oh come on, it’s only ten minutes out of our way, and I’ve been waiting for this game for weeks,” Ted explained. “It’s that Maneater game, the one about the man eating shark.” Strangely, for some reason, hearing about this game piqued Beatrice’s interest. “Um, a man eating shark you say,” she said, scratching her head a bit, not noticing that her usually soft, silky hair was becoming a bit shaggier. “That actually sounds kinda cool.” “Yeah, and you can actually upgrade your shark with all these cool mutations,” Ted continued excitedly. “There’s like bone armor plating and teeth that can electrocute your prey.” “Seriously? That’s so cool!” Beatrice said with genuine excitement. “Come on, we’ve gotta see this!” With that, the pair made their way down the street towards GameStop, while the vampire tried to ignore how tight her pants were getting.” 

 

The next morning, Krockman was slowly getting up from the sidewalk, his head throbbing like hell. He could hardly remember what had happened last night, though he did have brief flashes of memories: rushing through the streets, ransacking a shawarma cart, being chased by police who somehow became contact drunk when they got near him, setting fire to an inflatable waving tube man, and punching out a bear.  Thinking it over, Krockman face palmed at this, groaning as he said to himself, “Oh god, how much did I drink last night?” Looking around, he noticed he was in front of a house. Hoping whoever lived inside had some aspirin, Krockman walked up to the front door and knocked. 

 

After a few minutes, the door opened up, revealing a familiar looking young man. When the man saw Krockman, a smile crossed his face as he said, “Oh hey, it’s you again. The guy from the bar last night. The one that gave me the love potion.” Hearing this, memories of the night before began to flood Krockman’s head. “I... I gave you what now?” “I know, I know, it’s technically not a love potion,” the man said in reply. “But what else would you call something that you drink to make yourself irresistible to women.” Looking confused, Krockman said in an unsure tone, “Um, sure. Hey listen, um...” “Ted,” the man said as a reminder. “Right, right, Ted,” Krockman said in reply. “Listen, this potion I gave you... did it actually work?” “Oh yeah, I actually met someone outside the bar,” Ted answered cheerfully. “She’s a vampire, had this whole aloof diva thing going on, but after a while, she loosened up a bit.” “Loosened up? How do you mean?” Krockman asked. At that moment, a familiar voice shrieked from inside the house, screaming, “Wally Warbler fucking cheats!” 

 

While Krockman was caught off guard, he was surprised to see Beatrice walking in from the other room, only she looked... different. No longer the sleek, seductive man eater, she now looked more like a gamer nerd. Her once silky soft hair was thick and shaggy, a pair of purple glasses perched on the end of her nose. Her chic, fashionable clothes were traded in for a sleeping shirt emblazoned with bats. While the shirt was still pretty baggy, it could not hide the fact that she had gotten a little chubbier, mostly in her lower half; her thighs rubbing together and her hips and belly roll pressing against the shirt. Rubbing her brow, Beatrice slowly made her way towards the front door, leaning against the frame as Ted looked her over. “Still having a hard time playing Cuphead?” he asked nonchalantly. Looking over at her beau, Beatrice said in reply, “For a game that looks like a Betty Boop cartoon, it’s hard as balls. Like, seriously, how hard should it be to kill that freaking bird?” 

 

It was at that moment that Beatrice noticed Krockman. “Oh, it’s you,” she said unenthusiastically. Seeing this, Ted asked, “Do you two know each other?” “You could say we’re aquatints,” Beatrice said as she folded her arms across her chest. “What’re you doing here?” Rubbing the back of his neck, Krockman answered, “Um, I drank a bit too much last night, and I came by to see if could borrow an aspirin.” “Oh sure, anything you need. It’s the least I can do,” Ted said before turning towards Beatrice. “Hey Bebe, do you want me to get you anything?” Rubbing her brow, Beatrice answered, “Just get me a bag of AB+ please. I need a serious pick me up after dealing with that stupid, cartoon death bird.” “Sure thing, Bebe. I’ll be right back,” Ted said, giving the vampiress a peck on the cheek. With that, Ted went back into the house, leaving Krockman and Beatrice alone together. 

 

Looking smugly at the vampire, Krockman smirked as he said, “So, Bebe huh? When did he start calling you that?” “Sh-shut up! I think it’s cute,” Beatrice retorted, blushing so much that her pale skin turned bright pink. “Anyway, it doesn’t matter what he calls me. Once I’m done, I’ll just kick him to the curb and it’ll be back to business as usual.” “Sure it will,” Krockman said, trying to hold back his enthusiasm. “But just out of curiosity, do you feel any... different than you did last night?” Looking confused, Beatrice said, “No, I don’t. What kind of question is that?” “Oh, nothing, just simple curiosity,” the lost soul said in reply, his grin far too wide to ignore. “Here’s another bit of curiosity for you: how long are you going to stick around before you ‘kick him to the curb’?” Hearing this, Beatrice thought it over before answering, “I don’t know, maybe like a year... or two.” Seeing Krockman raise an eyebrow at this, Beatrice blushed fiercely as she quickly added, “I mean he’s a real nice guy! I’m not just gonna dump him after just a week. Plus, he’s got all these cool games and stuff, and we were planning on going to Comic-con later this year.” Smile at this, Krockman simply said, “Well, obviously, you can’t miss that.” 

 

At that moment, Ted came back, carrying a bottle of water and an aspirin in one hand and a blood bag in the other, a bendy straw sticking out of the spout. “Okay, I got the AB+ and the aspirin you guys asked for,” Ted said as he handed everyone their drinks. Taking the water and the aspirin, Krockman popped the pain killer and took a sip from the bottle. “Thanks, I needed that,” he said with a sigh. “So, you two lovebirds have any plans for tonight? I’m just curious.” “Well, we were planning on catching a movie later tonight,” Ted answered as Beatrice blushed. “They’re showing the first Star Wars movie for George Lucas’ birthday. You wanna join us?” Shaking his head no, Krockman said in reply, “Thanks but no thanks. I actually got to get going, but it was great meeting you two. You guys have fun.” With that, Krockman left the two, nerdy lovebirds to their own business. As he was walking away, Krockman quietly nursed his bottle of water as wild plots flooded his mind. “Well that was a fun little experiment,” he thought to himself, a sinister look crossed his face. “I wonder where my next stop will be?” 

———— 

 

Back in Limbo, over in Fort Abraxas, Kama, Teddi, and the other scraps were happily reminiscing about the Thousand Scrap Night Parade. “Man, that was the best gig we’ve had yet,” Jimmy said as he leaned back in his chair. “My band mates were going nuts.” “Glad to here it,” Kama said, folding his arms across his chest. “Of course, I wasn’t expecting Kasa and that Elton friend of yours to hit off like they did. Honestly, I was more surprised that Kasa was gay than by anything else.” Hearing this, Kasa blushed as he nervously said, “W-well, does that really matter?” “No, no, it’s not that big of a deal,” Kama hastily said. “I’m just curious why you never told us.” “Well... I never really thought to bring it up,” the umbrella scrap answered. “It’s really my own business, don’t you think?” Nodding at this, Kama said in reply, “Of course, of course.” 

 

It was at that moment, the door to Fort Abraxas opened up, revealing a stranger. He was a scrap, an enlightened scrap judging by his height. He resembled a thirteen year old boy with shaggy red hair and glowing green eyes, dressed in a blue tunic with a chest plate attached to it (with a strange medallion emblazoned in the center), a pair of gray pants held up by a leather belt, and a pair of boots. His hands were bandaged and strapped to his back was a large, wooden sword with strips of sharpened metal bolted along the edge. The scrap looked around, taking notice of the confused and surprised looks of the others as he sauntered his way into the room and sat himself down. Looking up at the group, the strange scrap said, “So, how was the parade?” 

 

Looking at the scrap and realizing who it was, Jimmy asked, “Holy crap, Calibur? Is that you?” “Why yes it is,” Calibur answered nonchalantly. “I suppose none of you were expecting to see me back here so soon.” Staring at the sword scrap in shock, Kama asked, “But... but how? How did you manage to pull it off?” Smiling at this, Calibur answered, “Well, I went on my own personal quest, you see.” Hearing this, everyone at the table groaned. “Are you seriously still going on about that?” Kama asked in an annoyed tone. “You do realize that you were being used as an errand boy, right? You weren’t exactly accomplishing anything.” Looking at the sickle scrap, Calibur merely smiled as he said in reply, “That is true, I was mostly an errand boy. However, I also found out recently that I lead the charge towards the Ruins of Babel back when Krockman was beginning his empire, and I was the one who struck the crippling blow against Orschwitz. That’s actually what my quest was about: to finish what I started. Thanks to me, Orschwitz has been rendered powerless and is no longer a threat to anyone. Although, it certainly doesn’t have the same gravitas as ripping up shoes and lusting after toilet ghosts, but we can’t all be like you, can we Kama?” When Calibur said this, everyone grew quiet. It was very clear to them that this was not the same scrap they all knew. Nobody said anything after that, too nervous of having their egos cut down by a tongue sharper than its owner’s sword. 

 

After a few hours of awkward chatting, everyone decided it was time to hit the hay. As Calibur was getting ready for bed, he noticed Teddi was staring at him. Eyeing the teddy bear scrap, Calibur asked, “Can I help you with something?” “I was just curious,” Teddi said as she looked up at the enlightened scrap. “Was it really that easy to reach enlightenment? I thought it involved a whole bunch of strife or whatever (at least, that’s what Kama told us).” Hearing this, Calibur nodded his head, saying, “Interesting. Well, I suppose that strife differs from person to person. Everyone has their own demons to face.” Looking worried, Teddi explained, “See, the thing is, ever since Bathory tried to hurt mama, I got a lot more interested in enlightenment. I want to be strong so I can defend her. I’m not sure how I’m going to be able to pull this off.” Studying the little scrap, Calibur gently patted her on the head, saying, “It’s alright, Teddi. Your time will come, and you’ll be ready for it. For now, just try to get some sleep, okay?” Smiling demurely at this, Teddi softly said in reply, “Thank you.” With that, the little scrap went off to bed as the residents of Fort Abraxas went to sleep. 

 

Later that night, Teddi had a strange dream. She was in a funeral home, surrounded by large coffins in the embalming room. As she tried to make sense of her surroundings, Teddi saw a long line of morticians enter the room, their faces shrouded in shadows. Following after them was a pair of interns pushing along a gurney. Teddi was mortified to see that it was Chad laid out on the gurney, only his nose seemed different (almost like a separate prosthetic). When the gurney was wheeled into place, the morticians surrounded it, their now exposed faces seeming a little too eager. Before Teddi knew what was going on, the morticians began setting out placemats on the gurney, followed by plates, napkins, silverware, and wine glasses topped off with a nice Cabernet. That’s when she noticed the lead mortician was none other than Cedric Byrnhem, his wide smile beaming as he held out a carving knife and meat fork and posed as if ready to carve a thanksgiving turkey. Before Teddi could do anything, the interns from before (now revealed to be Orschwitz and Skipper) appeared before her, pushed her out of the room, and slammed the door in her face, ending the dream. Bolting up in her bed, the poor scrap was hyperventilating. Although she did calm down and laid back down in bed eventually, she refused to sleep. How could she after seeing that?