The Golden Four has protected the world from dangers for the past three decades. Tornado Girl, Lightning King, Judge Justice, and Immoral Man. Well, at least we did, Tornado Girl became a tornado mother and retired for her twin boys, Lightning King had to return to the cloud kingdom to end to turmoil his absence left, and the final straw was Judge Justice when he destroyed a city under mind control and "Judged" himself when he regainedhis senses. Now it's just me, the "Immoral Man," but Immoral doesn't mean un aging...

"Are you sure you want to go through with this, sir? You know I owe you life, and I'd do anything for you, but this beyond extreme." Dr. Mercy protests. 15 years ago, he was the cruel Dr. Merciless, but after Judge Justice showed him the consequences of his actions, he beg for mercy. I was the one who saw the genuine repentance and convinced the others to let him have a second chance.

"Mercy, I'm an old man, I was an old man when we met. I am 95 years old, and I can feel it. My friends, family, and even my enemies are dead or astranged. The World Heros Association took my job, I never took the time to find a wife or have kids, and you are the only one who can put me out of my misery. Please kill me."

"There was a time I would have given my right hand to hear you say that, but that was a long time ago." He lets out a little chuckle and holds up a syringe, "If this won't kill you, nothing will."

A combination of the world's 1,000 most deadly pathogens, 100s of deadly compounds, and 5 mL of air to seal the deal.

"Thank you, you are my only remaining friend."

As the serum is injected directly into his heart, the Immoral Man begins to convulsed and his vitals go wild. After 3 hours, his vitals finally come to a halt.

"Goodbye, old friend..."

On an autopsy table at Hero's Memory Morgue, the Immoral Man has his heart removed, and suddenly is regenerated, the openings close, and he sits straight up.

"Fuck..."

Edit: Immortal, not Immoral

dang I really missed an opportunity for glory there

Gaster

It's wonderful, thank you.

Nothing in the prompt strictly specifies that the world gets sadder when he gets happier.

Going towards sad on that scale? World happier.

Going towards happy on that scale? No effect.

Equally... he's part of the world.

Becuse of third sentence, i thought someone tried to euthanase ultra shaggy

yep

<Lothli & Maishul>

Chapter 2: Mountain Dew® Code Red®

Heya! Welcome back to Maishul & Lothli, the only show where we keep it real by exploring different realities! I'm your host, Maishul! Let's get into it!

Once upon a time, in the far, far future, there was a girl named Lothli. She lived in a town where strange things happened every night. For example, her favorite Barbie doll got flushed down the toilet.

Anyways, Lothli looked into the refrigerator to make some fried rice. Unfortunately, there was no rice in the fridge, but instead there was an entire human head.

"Oh my goodness, there is an entire human head in the fridge. This is frightening," Lothli screamed in terror.

Lothli then closed the fridge and ignored the problem like how she ignored her chores. She decided that to fix this mess, she should go to the store to buy rice. How else could she make lunch?

And so the girl set off into the night, the stars above shining with evil intent. They plotted ways to ruin Lothli's day, like maybe untying her shoelace or putting her toilet paper in the holder backward.

Fortunately, our unsuspecting heroine managed to reach the local supermarket without any trouble, since the stars were too busy plotting. The signboard was usually yellow and said "SUPERMARKET", but today, it was red and said "SUBPARMARKET." This was a clear sign that the building was haunted, but Lothli, either due to cowardice or to ignorance, entered the store anyways.

Once inside, our intrepid protagonist immediately noticed the state of disrepair the store was in. The lights were off, and there were mysterious puddles of fluid on the floor. Most shockingly of all, the shopping baskets were unstocked.

"I suppose the employees must be on break," Lothli mused to herself. "There's no other reason the shopping baskets shouldn't be stocked."

Shrugging her shoulders, our reluctant heroine continued on her journey to the grains aisle. However, she was blocked by a massive stack of Mountain Dew® Code Red®, the most frightening soft drink.

The sudden appearance of the devilish soda was too much for our unlikely protagonist. Her mind was flooded with horrifying images. Her parents, drowning in Mountain Dew® Code Red®. Her life's work, dissolved in Mountain Dew® Code Red®. That one time her sister said she actually LIKED Mountain Dew® Code Red®.

The mental distress was too much to bear. Our beleaguered heroine collapsed to her knees.

"Not the... Mountain Dew® Code Red®..." she whimpered.

The sickening red fluid coalesced into the shape of a gigantic, writhing bag of rice.

"Muahaha! Now you will NEVER obtain the rice you crave!" the Mountain Dew® Code Red® cackled.

That's right, the fried rice... Lothli's feeble mind recalled what she was fighting for.

With a mighty roar, our brave protagonist broke free of the mental restraints cast onto her by the Mountain Dew® Code Red®. Thoroughly shaken by this encounter, Lothli continued on her trepidatious journey.

Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, our intrepid heroine had made it to the grains aisle. However, the greatest obstacle of all still stood between her and her rice.

Its eyes glowed red as it cried hyper-realistic blood. Its clothes were ragged and torn, with the souls of those it had already devoured screaming against the fabric. Its nametag read, "Hi! I'm Bob."

"The store is now closed. Please exit the store premises," the monster roared.

Lothli made a face that looked like this: D:

But making a strange face was not enough. Her soul was stolen and embedded within the creature's clothes.

The moral of the story? Never try to purchase rice.

WC: 600

Chapter Index

<= Previous Chapter / Next Chapter =>

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"Hey!"

"Oh," The doctor looked over. "Sorry."

"That's, like, not cool. Like, I need to speak to someone, to like, complain."

"I'm sorry." The doctor repeated. "I was shooting for some levity."

"Levity?!" The patient's daughter asked. "Did you think that was funny, mom?"

Mom's chest raised and lowered ever so slowly as the breathing machine worked.

"She wouldn't have thought that was funny." The daughter said.

"I'm sorry, really. Long day." The doctor said awkwardly. "I can go get one of my colleagues..."

"No," she said. "Let's get on with it."

The doctor inserted the syringe silently this time.

Her mother passed peacefully.

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It’s always been a weird thing, for me to have negative narrative potential, but that’s because of a simple thing:

I ruin stories.

I am a breaker of the fourth wall, constantly hinting at the existence of a higher being, who has no power other than to watch us and write our futures, but I have no future.

I’m free

I wasn’t ever scripted at all, I’m making my own story for myself. I constantly ruin a scripted story around me, and I love it.

It feels great to change the course of a scripted persons story. Is it sadism? Hell yeah it is. But it’s also telling me that maybe I’m helping someone actually be themselves.

God, I love this ability.

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"I've always been told I was useless and I've always ignored it, never resisting. My self-estime has been damaged over the years after the continuous abuse. Yet I'm really useless. I'm about to lose my family but I can't do anything about it. I'm aware that I don't owe them anything and many people would even argue that after all the pain they put me through I shouldn't be worrying about their safety. Even coming here was a coincidence. They didn't invite me originally but my brother couldn't make it and they would lose the vacation if they didn't have the right number. Now I know why. I'm scared. I can't even tell anybody, not that anyone would believe me to begin with. What should I do? What should I do?!"

He knew that coming would be a mistake but he never thought his family's vacation to the old, rundown resort would turn into a nightmare that he would have to face alone.

The air was stagnant and it felt stuffy inside the wardrobe. Mark was hiding away from his little cousins that wanted to practice boxing on his body. That's the only reason he entered the dusty wardrobe hidden in the corner of the room. It was there that he saw 'them'. In his horror he initially didn't know what to do except being scared but a photo suddenly fell from the wooden panel onto his head. Still, it wasn't until he a glint of silver coming from the pocket of an old jacket caught his attention that he put together the truth.

Suddenly, the air around him grew cold and he felt like he was being watched. As he turned around, he saw a shadowy figure dart past the wardrobe and disappear into the darkness. He tried to shake off the feeling, but he couldn't ignore the sense of dread that hung in the air. He paled. The nausea made its presence known causing him to frown.

Mark clutched the photo and ticket tightly in his hand, his heart racing with fear and desperation. He knew that his family was in grave danger, but he didn't know what to do. He felt useless and alone.

As he tried to gather more information, he noticed that strange things were happening all around him. "What the hell is going on?" he muttered under his breath. "Shadows moving on their own, whispers echoing through the house when I'm alone, and this feeling that someone is watching me. Did they notice me?"

The atmosphere felt eerie and even the creaking sounds that accompanied his steps gave him goosebumps. He was growing increasingly panicked as the minutes turned into hours: there wasn't much time. Why is nobody else noticing anything strange? Is he hallucinating? The cold breath of death felt so close he could no longer think clearly.

He had nobody he could confide in. He tried to tell his family, but they just laughed it off saying "it's ridiculous, you are ridiculous! There's no need to try to scare us with those fake props you poorly made".

One night, Mark woke up to find himself standing in front of the wardrobe, with the same old photograph clutched tightly in his hand. He couldn't remember how he got there, but he knew that he was being drawn to it by some unknown force. He wanted nothing to do with it. He wasn't even supposed to come here!

The room was freezing and the stench of decay filled his nostrils. "What the hell is going on?" Mark exclaimed. "Why is this happening to me? I just want to get out of here." However complaining was useless. A disgusting feeling came from his ankle which was being wrapped by something slimy. "Oh god," he gasped. "Please, just let me go. I don't know what you want, but I don't want any part of this."

It was at that moment that a lightning bolt struck the tree outside, illuminating the room in a flash of light and scaring away that tentacle.

Mark finally realised that, while he couldn't do much, there was something he could do: he could save himself and the few innocent animals whose only fault was to have terrible owners. He could run away. He could have escaped when he first discovered 'them' but he felt compelled to do something. It wasn't necessary. You can't save those that don't want to be saved. Those ungrateful fools would sacrifice him for their safety, why should he satisfy them? Those people didn't deserve his pity not his guilt.

Less than a month later, news came that there was an accident at the resort, and it was shut down. Mark's family never came back. There's a thing that Mark was oblivious to a cold breath was constantly blowing on his neck.

Stanza?

This sounds like a conversation between Dwight Schrute and Michael Scott.

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I cackled, love it

I see they've taken notes from Red Death.

Good job.

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Parenthesis would make your title a lot easier to understand than e.g.. I had to read it 4 times

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"I am, after all, a brilliant strategist. Manipulating every piece as I go, not to guarantee a specific outcome, but to guarantee whatever outcome occurs will be advantageous. That fool will be ready for a last minute triumphant victory, but as a brilliant strategist I of course know that it's in the moment you believe you're about to win that you're most vulnerable to failure. "

My henchmen looked at me, clearly unimpressed.

"Ok boss, but what if the hero just....ya know.....defuses it early?"

"Nonsense! He will figure it out how to diffuse it early, certainly, but that pompous ass would never allow himself to miss an opportunity for needless dramatic effect!"

"Whatever you say boss."

They mumbled disappointed murmurs under their breath as they hurriedly finished arming the bomb and setting up the camera for me to livestream my evil machinations, and the hero's failure of course, to the entire city. They'll see. I am, after all, a brilliant strategist. That dope in tights will never win this time!

They get the stream set up and I notice the camera's red light turn on.

"Aha! Now watch and tremble as I destroy your pathetic city capitol building, fools!"

Suddenly that lame hero shows up to foil my plans...a bit too quickly. Strange. Was he tipped off somehow?

"...And there's nothing this fool of a hero can do to save it or you! Mwahahaha"

The hero raised an eyebrow and punched me once, flinging me across the room before rushing up to the bomb with the very obvious, and very incorrect timer.

"Was the evil laugh really necessary? Seems a bit cliche. Though I guess you do like the classics, like a bomb with an obvious timer on it."

He took the bait!

"Of course I have to do the evil laugh! You can't be a proper evil-doer without the evil laugh: it's about having standards!"

Just keep him distracted for a few more moments and-

Suddenly the timer begins sparking, and the display sputters out until the timer turns off entirely, with a plume of smoke rising from the malfunctioned bomb.

"You may have a bombastic presence, but this plan's a dud."

He looks into the camera with that same smug look I've come to hate.

"Eh, what can I say? Bomb making was never my specialty."

"HA, ya got that right!"

"I'm no bomb maker, but I am, after all, a brilliant strategist!"

I do it. My back up plan. I didn't want to do it in so simple a manner, but I do it. Always have a plan B. I pull out my gun and shoot the hero in the back before blacking out, only to wake up days later to see on the news that my gun apparently jammed and the hero saved everyone. Damnit. Next time.