THIS IS NOT CANON. REPEAT, THIS IS NON-CANON.
Ever wondered what would happen if Pinguinus and other users were sucked out of their cozy desk chairs and fell into the dangerous worlds of Multiverses? This comedic story explains what would happen.
BTW, anyone is welcome to write a chapter describing what would happen if they fell into the Multiverse. So, enjoy!
Part 1: Pinguinus in Planny-LandEdit
One fine Febuary day, Pinguinus sat in a chair and edited Multiverses. He was comfortable, and he was commenting on Styro's new story, Tirac of Novus. He couldn't wait for it to get started.
However, just as he started to write a new article, it happened.
ON THE DAEMON HOMEWORLD
Hectocapitus sat on his throne. "Activate the Plot Device!" he shouted to Indigo, his chief scientist. Indigo sighed. "Yes, my Lord," she said. And then, it activated.
Pinguinus suddenly fell through a portal, and landed right in Hector's throne room.
"Drat," said Pinguinus, expecting the worst.
Hectocapitus glared at the scrawny excuse for a human being. "Kill it," he said, "It sickens me."
"Yes," my lord," said Indigo.
Hectocapitus glared at Cthire's daughter. "DID YOU JUST SAY "LORD" WITHOUT CAPITALIZING IT?!?!?!?"
"Sorry, my Lord."
"You'd better be."
During this discussion, Pinguinus ran screaming out of the Tower, and onto the streets of Pandaemonium.
It was not long before he came across a group of Goblins, that were busy playing poker (?) in a tavern called "The Murky Dolphin." (??)
One immediately approached the frightened user, holding a large knife.
Just as Pinguinus started to faint from sheer terror, the Goblin lowered the knife and asked a question.
"Are you a Korgrath?," it said, thinking itself very clever.
Pinguinus began to feel braver. "Yes," he said confidently, "I am. Indigo made me just this morning."
It was then when Pinguinus thought of it. What he lacked in brains and bravado, he made up for in pure knowledge of Multiverses. He knew every nook and cranny of Obeidon; after all, he had helped to build it. It was his greatest, and only, advantage he possessed.
The Goblins immediately began obeying his every command. He then began to make his way to the one individual who might know how to get him home.
Only Snakesick could have been informed that she was simply the product of a fertile imagination overfed with H. P. Lovecraft and Brandon Sanderson without completely overreacting. She simply nodded and agreed that that was most likely the case.
"We've got to find a way to get me out of here," said Pinguinus finally, "before I get killed!"
Suddenly, Umbran and Bloodburn entered the tower.
"Seize him," said Bloodburn menacingly.
Umbran drew closer and closer. Just in the nick of time, Pinguinus had an idea. "Umbran," he said, "I am your father!"
Umbran snorted. "You are not."
"That's it," growled Bloodburn, "I'll do this myself."
Just before Bloodburn incinerated the user, a strange thing happened; a glowing light appeared in the sky, and Deus Ex Machina appeared.
"What in the name of Hectocapitus...?" began Bloodburn. The distraction this caused allowed Pinguinus to sneak past the both of them and flee. Snakesick followed, and they began to sneak through the city. How a forty-meter long bright green dragon snuck through a mostly black city is anyone's guess, but they did it.
Finally, they came to a ship: the Torment.
"Brilliant," said Pinguinus, "We can take this ship!"
And so they boarded one of the most powerful ships in the multiverse without any problems whatsoever.
After a long horizontal line, Hectocapitus stormed out of the Tower just in time to see the Torment lifting up out of the city. Growling to himself, he marched towards...
Once he got there, he marched to
controls and began to operate it. After a moment, he realized that
was not blasting Pinguinus and Snakesick out of the sky. He looked, and noticed that it had a small slot that said "25 cents."
Hectocapitus growled. He possessed no American currency; the mighty destruction of the Torment would have to occur another day. With terrible wrath, he roared and cursed the name of
Previously, on Welcome to Multiverses:
Pinguinus and Snakesick escaped from the wiki's most dangerous planet with little or no difficulty, in the most blatantly implausible adventure scene yet written. Following their escape, they journied to the planet Solin, where benign sapients ruled and nobody had ever bothered to type up any large predators. This seemed to be the perfect paradise for them. But, unbeknownst to our heroes, way overpowered dudes were engaged in interesting stuff, and the planet Solin was about to become a cosmic dust bunny...
"We're doomed!" bawled Pinguinus, who was not the worlds most macho guy.
"Relax", said Snakesick, "It's only an invincible living starship hell-bent on exterminating us puny organics. Nothing to worry about."
The two of them ran to the Torment, and somehow managed to fly off the planet bseconds before its destruction. Billions of Deraia died in a single nanosecond, and Snakesick cheered at the "pretty lights".
"It's like Styro always said," cried Pinguinus despairingly, "Nobody is safe! Wherever we go, somebody's Master Plan will kill us!"
Snakesick slapped him upside the head, bringing him to his senses.
"Wait a minute", said Pinguinus slowly, "We could go to Wazel! It's a collaborative planet, we won't have to worry about X or Nus there!"
And so they went to Wazel, which was only a few billion light years way from Solin.
They landed and clambered onto the surface. There was a flag flying above.. it had a menacing eyeball on it, that seemed to follow them everywhere they went.
"I know this place! It's Imperial Lepta. I created it, so it's currently the most awesome Wazelian nation."
They started walking, and soon came across a number of Leptans digging a trench.
"What the krag are you morons up to?", said Snakesick diplomatically.
"We're digging a trench," said a particularly enthusiastic Wazelian.
Another Leptan, their squad leader, spoke up.
"The Nivalis threat grows larger each day," he declared, pure, unadulterated propaganda spewing from his lips, "with this trench, we will keep the hordes at bay."
The trench was a foot wide and six inches deep.
"Nightshriekers can fly," pointed out Pinguinus, "Your trench could be a hundred miles wide and twice as deep and you still wouldn't stop them."
The Wazelians stared at their trench for a minute.
"I still think it's a good idea," said the squad leader.
"Indeed," agreed another, "The Nivalis will take one look at this baby and say to themselves, 'There's a bunch that knows how to dig a trench. We don't want to mess with them.' That's what they'll say."
The Wazelians continued to dig, more enthusiastic than before.
Pinguinus sighed, and started walking to the south.
On a small planet in an unspecified galaxy, something interesting happened. Bright, Plan-colored lights flashed, and a thundering noise shook the world.
And the Brotherhood of Hostile Things awakened.
Part 3: Toothless' StoryEdit
Quick Note: This is the one exception I am making to my no-fiction-writing rule, as this will be FUN! :D BTW, sorry I was unable to think of an inventive title :P
One day (it doesn't matter which one) Toothless was sitting on his chair and editing Multiverses (obviously he had a computer in front of him). Suddenly, a dark-purpley-cliche-coloured portal opened in the floor, and Toothless fell through, though somehow the chair didn't.
For a few seconds, his vision was blurred and he felt like vomiting, but then the sensation passed and he could look around clearly. As he did so, he recognised where he was; the inside of a Scarabian warship. There was only one problem with this; Scarabians didn't exist. He had invented them,
He was quickly proved wrong as a insectoid biped entered the room. It had four clawed arms and two legs, and a shell on its back. It was undoubtably a Scarabian. It looked at him with a puzzled expression, and raised a gun he recognised as a MTG, or Molecular Transfiguration Gun.
"What are you, and why are you here?" it asked.
"I'm here to help the war against the Verplaatsen," Toothless said, thinking quickly. If these were apparently Scarabians as he had imagined them, he hoped they would be in the current predicament he had imagined them in. "I got lost looking for the Disc Blasters."
This apparently convinced the Scarabian.
"Very lost," it said. "Walk about a mile down that corridor," it continued, gesturing at another door out of the room, "Then take a right. You can't miss it. Says 'armoury' on the door."
Toothless thanked it and walked off the direction he had indicated, regretting the dimensions of the Scarabian warships. It would take him almost half an hour to get there. He sighed and set off at a jog.
Half an hour later, Toothless reached a door labelled 'ƔǷɰȡҨϪ'. He suddenly realised he hadn't given the Scarabians a language, and thus he could not read what was written on the door. He decided that Scarabians wrote in English, and the words seemed to remould themselves, until they read 'ARMOURY'.
Toothless went inside. The room was enormous, perhaps as large as a football pitch, and filled by several very long shelves, which were filled with guns and claws of various shapes and sizes. Of course, he recognised them all; Electro-claws, Disc Blasters, MTGs, Heat-Seeker Machine-Guns, Heat-Seeker Rocket Launchers, and Stun Guns. They filled two-thirds of the room, and the other third was mounted with sets of Scarabian armour. Toothless tried to pick some up, but it would too heavy to wear, so he put it back.
Then, he took a Disc Blaster and Stun Gun, and left the room.
Realising he was lost again, Toothless wandered aimlessly along the corridors, looking for a Scarabian. Soon he came across a whole squad, in full armour, with Disc Blasters in hand, and a Stun Gun, MTG and Heat-Seeker Machine Gun tied to their belts. The rear two were carrying a Heat-Seeker Rocket Launcher.
"Hey!" Toothless shouted.
"What are you?" the leader asked him.
"I'm authorised," Toothless replied. "Otherwise I wouldn't have these, would I?" he said, showing the leader his weapons.
"Fine," the leader said. "What do you want? And quickly. We're due on a assault cruiser any minute."
"Where is this ship's captain?" Toothless asked.
The Scarabian leader laughed. "About 90 miles that direction," he said, pointing.
"Oh. Is there any quick way there?"
"This main corridor runs the length of the ship. Get one of the hover-scooters from the next room on the left, and just go that way. It can reach about 60 miles an hour, so you'll be there in a couple of hours. That's the quickest way."
The squad moved on, and Toothless sighed. Two hours? Why oh why had he made the warships so big?
IV - Styro's EndingsEdit
Yes. Well, actually there are two. Both can be considered canon, but if you really insist you can dismiss the other one. That's not counting this particular piece of writing.
If you have any idea what I am on about, make sure to comment.
If you don't, there will be a flying monkey wearing a fez, and it will die.
Actually, just shut up and read the story.
And lo, there was Styro. Sitting at the table, on a laptop. The power of tabs meant he could post on, manage, participate in, and laugh at no less than 27 and a half websites with subjects ranging from reef building, fossil collecting, guess that anatomical artifact and good old Multiverses patrolled by the COPs (that there stands for cool original plausible), a veritable Keith Emerson of the computer.
And then he died.
In a metaphorical sense, obviously. He woke from unconciousness in the middle of a forest. As he came to his senses, he realized what must have happened. There was probably no sense in tempting fate, but he did anyway. He had clicked this link, and then ended up in this wood.
Styro already knew how he got here, other than by clicking the link. He knew the process. Such sudden, unintentional, inexplicable travel featured in his mind.
Where here was, that was another question. One that remained unanswered until he heard unearthly shrieks as he stood in the forest.
Still, it wasn't that bad. He knew the ropes of this place. He had every advantage. And he knew exactly what would happen, because he had a Plan.
With this precognitive knowledge, he might take up stocks. That would turn out well.
Anyway, it was time to kick some serious butt.
Styro started walking through the Epsilon Forest, wondering vaguely where the Nephilim were at the moment.
It was not long before he happened upon the Terrortooth nest.
Styro wasn't too frightened. He knew everything about them, and what they could do. Explanations for everything.
He ignored them and walked on out of sight.
Then, he realized he was getting nowhere. He could stay here, but it would get a bit boring without anyone to shoot at him. So he found himself a pod of Non-Canonocity.
Inside, he made himself a tally of where to go next. He had a job to do.
Where was he going?
Lanka, of course.
Did you really have to think about that one?
In the middle of the Hills they slept they slept standby autopilot mode waiting for instructions from here from there from anywhere while their bretheren spread across the multiverse watching waiting and the skeleton blew away grain by grain and then the Rifts fluttered like the wings of chaos but they are not the reason temporary distraction the reason is bigger stronger crazier yet you all know in the back of your skulls because it is there there and all is not what it seems she really means it this time and we are all going to suffer and by the way the Wreakers are [NO PERMITIDO]
Styro cleared Kaventro's atmosphere, knowing exactly what would happen to the planet and its lifeforms and when. It wasn't anything to be concerned about right now though. They could wait.
He plowed on, directly through the Crossverse and into the Daemoniverse. There was no trouble. It wasn't odd.
Then he landed on Lanka. In front of a certain, large, dirty, steampunky, smoking factory and city. Its name need not be mentioned.
Inside the depths of the factory whose name need not be mentioned, Ravana sat, deep in thought. Like Styro, he knew things that every other Seven, and indeed the God of All Daemons, did not. He also knew that everything was going according to plan.
But yet he did not know the larger scale of things. He did not know of what was to become of him or his plans. The secrets in his life. The tragedies he would face. The battle he would ignite, with himself and all those smiling jesters beyond. He knew none of it.
However, he did know that a small, high-pitched Korgrath was waddling up to him, about to bring his some useless and likely annoying news.
"Master," it squeaked, "there's a small organic being outside your door that has managed to bypass all your security systems. What shall I do with it?"
Ravana furrowed his brow. "Bring him in."
The squealy Korgrath waddled up to the large door and opened it.
Styro walked in, looking around the room and admiring the furniture. He took a glance at the squat and squealy Korgrath that stood by the door quite sheepishly, and made a mental note to have him killed off in the next story.
"Well, who are you?" Ravana grumbled.
"You wouldn't believe me if I told you," Styro said.
"Just tell me."
"Do you know how much a plasma beam hurts, pitiful little soul?"
"Well, if you put it that way..."
And so Styro told Ravana who he was.
After the little being's speech, Ravana's eyes were substantially widened. This was either an extremely good thing or an extremely bad thing.
Before commenting on it further, he turned to the squealy Korgrath. "Dismissed," he grumbled at a noticeable volume.
The Korgrath jumped to attention, gave the best salute it could manage with its stubby little arms, and then left the room.
"Have you ever thought about changing that salute? It's a bit suggestive."
"We'll talk about that later. Are you really who you say you are?"
"And you know everything about me."
"Everything I've done, all the secrets I possess, everything that I'll ever accomplish."
"But you can find ways to help me with things."
"At least, you're perfectly capable of helping me with things and have the ability."
"Do you agree to actually doing that?"
"Sure," Styro said, as his neck was starting to ache.
"Well then," Ravana said. "This could be interesting."
I have a feeling you shall find out very soon.
Do not read this if you enjoy your sanityEdit
(Holbenilord, Styro and Toothless wake up in a large hall. The door crashes open and Hectocapitus, Bloodburn, Ravana and Deadflame storm in.)
Toothless: well, we're screwed now.
Bloodburn: You know why that is, son?
Bloodburn: cos me and my buddy Hecto 'bout to lay down some rhymes.
Hectocapitus: Yeah I'm h to the e to the c-t-o,
I'm comin' up so y'all get down low.
I'm the god of all daemons an' I'll show you why,
The dark lord who's gonna make you scream in the night!
I beat up the veiled ones, the julth and the notrox,
Now you gonna feel it as I slice all your hox off!
I'll rip you a new one and fill it with eyeballs,
Then use your blood to clean my neutronium-metal!
Holbenilord: You're proud of your armour, I heard it said
But I reckon your densest bit is your head.
You've won all these victories? Then tell me why
The angels and typhons still clog up your sky.
The ancient veiled ones, they seeded worlds,
The daemons can't even pronounce five-letter-long words.
So get back in your castle, go back and weep,
Cos the multiverse has been better invaded by sheep.
Ravana: You've done this before, human, I can see that's true,
But your race hasn't even returned to the moon.
I've conquered worlds in less than an hour,
Your earth is split into two hundred powers.
You've made nukes and rockets, but can't reach ftl,
Perhaps you'd be better off working than worrying about hell.
But you can't attack me, can't even try,
You baby, you're so scared I can tell you're about to cry.
Toothless: I'm the guy who made the verplaatsen, and the scarabians too,
And either of those could stomp your pathetic word-fu.
You put words together, well really that's great,
But it won't look so good with a nanodiamond boot in your face.
You're too scared of my races to leave your little, empty hovel
Bickering and chasing ships while my races time-travel.
Word on the street is you have something planned
But perhaps you should take your heads out of the sand.
Bloodburn: I'll rip you apart, little human, or boil you alive,
Then fire your bones at your verps while I skin and eat their wives.
I'll make a blanket from your hide and give it to Umbran,
Perhaps he'll use it to blow his nose or mop up dead daemon.
My name makes your blood burn, but don't get too hot,
Or you'll become a kind of mammal-based broth.
Our 'little space' was once filled with lifeforms,
We'll show you what it's like to be rendered down into quorn.
Styro: Well hey big red daemon, have I seen you before,
Are you one of the ones my Plan will deform?
My ideas will change the multiverse and beyond,
Your consecro? Your cykrons? Produced by my wand.
Who knows what will happen when it comes to the End,
You might be chosen and then you'll never mend.
Now get out of here, go back home,
Or I'll get X and Scarlet to leave you as foam.
Deadflame: Very nice, little guy, that caused quite a rustle,
But what can you do when you live only for fossils?
Your Plan will never begin, let alone end,
If I kill you now- and you're driving me round the bend.
Terrorteeth? Taxidermy? Who even cares?
Say I shoot a tt once and we'll see how it fares.
We're the original dragons, you strive only to copy,
But I'm hundred feet long and your work is sloppy.
Holbenilord: Well alright Deadflame, I can see you're quite flustered,
But I have a thing here that'll shock your neural clusters.
You see we exist, and you really do not,
You live only in those ODing on pot.
So keep up your boasting, I don't even care,
You can't even harm a three-legged hare.
I'll edit your article and make you be dead,
It's really your choice and it's on your head.
I don't think I've mentioned the fact that I could
Delete your article and that wouldn't be good.
Hectocapitus: (slinking off) this ain't over.
Holbenilord: yo users, remember this was the day when we took down the Dark Lord and his posse. Represent!
Crossover (Holben's fault not mine blame him)Edit
Blame Holben, it was his idea, I had no part in this, he's just forcing me to do this, and sorry Toothless that he thought of it first
Deep beyond the quantum foam entanglement strings, laying beyond all our understanding, the Black Guardian sat in an old little wingback chair and planned his usurpation of the universe. He was deep in thought. This time, he knew he would succeed, and that he did not need an odd kid with large eyebrows to do it for him, and that everything was going exactly according to plan and that
"You really are the thickest man in the multiverse, aren't you."
The Black Guardian turned around and saw Hectocapitus curled up behind him. "Honestly, you could do better with a smattering of particularly incompetent Adipose."
The Black Guardian adopted an annoyed face and then an expression of extreme pain as his old little wingback chair gave him a large electric shock. He got up off the floor and kicked the chair.
"Now who are you, I might ask?"
Meanwhile, the chair sighed to itself. People were always mistreating it like this, even when it wasn't locked in the closet. It had a sneaking suspicion it was Mr. Monteverde's fault, but never thought about it too much. Depression got in the way of everything.
Hectocapitus yawned. "How can you not know of me?"
"I have no idea as to who you are!"
The God of all Daemons sighed. "Hectocapitus."
"The Seven-Headed One."
"Inferno. Daemons. Daemoniverse. Obeidon? Hello?"
At that moment, the lights flickered, and suddenly there were a group of Weeping Angels in the room.
Hectocapitus furrowed his brow. He muttered, "Angeli," and then let forth a flaming Hellbeam onto the nearest angel.
"I hate you," Hector muttered, and turned back to the Black Guardian to speak. "We---"
The instant his back was turned, a Weeping Angel fluttered up and touched his neutronium-metal armor. And off he would---
Nobody was looking, so the angel touched him again.
Because of some inascertainable, insanely complicated, and probably implausible law of physics, the neutronium-metal armor was somehow deflecting the touch of the angel, thus explaining why the God of All Daemons stayed where he was and didn't warp off to 1969 or a similar timeframe.
Hector had not spoken since he last started speaking, because he was slowly turning around to face the angel, which by now was ramming its fists against his armor.
"Did you know an Angelus would never go around poking my armor?"
The Weeping Angel stopped, stared at Hector, and then promptly vanished in a puff of logic.
"Something funny is happening," Hectocapitus noted.
And then because of another inascertainable, insanely complicated, and probably implausible law of physics, they were all out of fakespace and in realspace. The chair, somehow, had righted itself, perhaps because the surroundings reminded it of the vineyards of France that it had always dreamed about. They always seemed so real and you could actually smell those grapes...
Quite simply, they were in the Universe now, and not Obeidon.
However, a strategically placed Dimensional Rift meant that there were now a platoon of Irihil, an army of Migo, three cassowaries, several hundred Verplaatsen ships, a good two-fifths of the Daemoniverse, the missing portfolio of Shakespeare plays (well, Marlowe that is), Rothel and his various minions, a Terrortooth (who was not at all angry but actually quite content at the moment because Leonardo diCaprio was scratching its belly), two Sriven, klingon ambassadors, a Lamia, and Plato standing in front of them.
A moment later, the bowl of petunias landed on the ground and crashed into a million billion bits.
You obviously haven't seen what the Daleks do then. Silly old buggers, they are.
"Well, I have to admit I wasn't expecting this," Hectocapitus said.
HOW FORTUNATE YOU WERE, the Lamia hissed, and skittered up to them. BUT ENOUGH OF THAT. THERE IS...BUSINESS TO ATTEND TO.
"What?" the Black Guardian said.
Hectocapitus flicked him aside. "Let us know of the business."
And then he saw.
He saw the End unfold and the imbalance in turmoil and the way the wind blew and how it all falls down and when it all comes together and who he really is and where the peace is and why it does happen and what it really is all about, and oh, sorry, it cuts off just before the bit about R'lyeh. Damn. He did see a very nice Serpent though, so that made it up a little bit.
JPT walked into Swarga Loka, looking for Ravana. After a few minutes, he found the infamous Daemon.
"Ravana, you have killed my precious Cyberteeth! WHY, WHY, WHY? THIS IS MADNESS!", he said.
Ravana stood there, staring at JPT.
"Madness? THIS. IS. RAVANA!", Ravana replied. Seconds later, JPT was thrown into space.
But Styro decided to save him. He pulled JPT back towards the planet, and rehydrated him.
"Ravana, we do not throw humans into space. No no no.", Styro said, wagging his finger.
And JPT decided to punish Ravana.
"I.... WILL.... PUNISH!", he said, and he then flicked Ravana in the eye in slow motion.
"All eyes turned to look as R'lyeh burst into existence."
Styro sat back, and felt a weight lift off his chest. He'd finished another Plan story, at long last, despite the constant interruptions and parasitism. He sighed with relief, and then got ready to post another tiny chunk of Beginning of the End onto Multiverses, grinning at how annoying his slowness had to be to the other users.
He took another sip of milk and then consumed a slice of pepperoni pizza, and was impressed by its tastiness. He wiped the cheese off his fingers before copying and pasting the section into the BOTE article. His mouse moved to the 'publish button'...
"Stop right there!" He span around to see a team of SWAT troopers leap in through the window, the glass shattering as they came through. One turned his carbine on the computer monitor and it blew apart under the shot. Styro dived down under the desk for cover, as one of the men grabbed his computer tower and smashed it against the wall.
Another reached under the desk and dragged him out, then pushed him up against the wall.
"Styracosaurus Rider, member of the Multiverses Wiki, you are under arrest for conspiracy and intending to damage the welfare of that wikia site. As a team from the NJPD counter-Plan division, it is our responsibility to-"
"What the heck are you talking about? Counter-Plan division?"
The sergeant stood up and held his head high. "Countering Master Plans since 1896 BCE. Even now, our international branches are busy capturing the users known as Pinguinus, Yuy168, and Horakoeri."
"What about Holben? He had the biggest Plan of all!"
"Ha. The agent going by the name 'Holbenilord' was one of us. Over the course of a year, he accumulated sufficient evidence to get all four of you locked away for a hundred years."
"This is a joke, isn't it?"
"No. This is deadly serious. Do you understand just how Multiverse-changing your Plan was to be?"
"Better than anyone. But..."
The man shook his head. "Every time someone constructs an original Master Plan, without stealing all of its elements from another author, it has an effect. It actually causes this Plan to occur. Most are pretty weak and happen billions of light-years away, but yours was extremely big. Too big to allow it to happen. You were toeing the line with your use of Lovecraft's and █'████'s ideas, but you changed enough for it to work."
"So... what do I tell my parents?"
"Everything has been prepared. They believe you have been recruited by the CIA for reasons that cannot be disclosed without damaging international interests. They were surprisingly unfazed."
"Yeah, that's them." Styro sighed. "Alright. What now?"
"We're taking you to the underground Montauk Prison. It's designed specifically to prevent you from coming up with Master Plans by giving you fun and productive things to do with your time, to share with like-minded people and with access to all the latest literature, technology, and everything else. However-" He narrowed his eyes- "the internet there is read-only."
"But I never finished all the stories I was writing! What about those on other wikis, too? And all the other things I was going to do! My secured, contained, and protected anomalous object!" He protested.
"I'm afraid you never will be able to finish those now."
"And who's going to feed my reptiles! And walk my dog!"
"We're having all your pets shipped off to some guy in New Zealand who goes by the name of JurassicParkTreasury on Multiverses. Your parents can look after the dog, though."
"But-" Styro began to complain, but then he was grabbed and put in a sack.
And with that, the NJPD Counter-Plan division leapt back out the window into the waiting helicopter. Its rotors accelerated as it left the house behind, shooting off into the distance.
Somewhere in a university in the state of New Jersey, a college student put a memory stick he had found on the floor into his computer. He was surprised when a video popped up without him even clicking anything, and a young teenager began speaking.
"Listen, I know they've found me, and I know that Holben's got all the evidence he needed. Here's what you have to do..."