AvengerVerse Holiday Special #2: New Year, Who Dis?
AVENGERVERSE HOLIDAY SPECIAL #2
NEW YEAR, WHO DIS?
"I'm dreaming of a white Christmas", The Avenger sang as he remain suspended in limbo. A long, six-month beard floated aimlessly in the void, along with his dirty outfit and what was almost assuredly his own waste. "Juuuust like the ones I used to know!"
Avenger stopped for a moment than began to giggle to himself. "Because the void is white! There's nothing but white! FOR SIX MONTHS!"
Yes Vengy, we know. Unfortunately, Avenger could not hear the narrator inside this limbo, so he giggled again and continued his song. "Where the tree tops...GLISTEN...and children...LISTEN...to hear...SLEIGH BELLS IN THE SNOW! THE SNOW!"
You're probably wondering how our intrepid hero found himself in this situation. Unwashed, losing his sanity, eating parts of his costume for sustenance. If you are a true blue Avenger fan, you'd have noticed his cape is half as long as it normally was. Also there are teeth marks in his utility belt, after he ran out of the snacks he kept there and tried to chew off bits of leather.
But the point is, Avenger got tired of waiting. He wanted to find his best friend and when his larger counterpart was sleeping, he attempted to use the Multiversal Remote (that's the device that makes dimensional travel possible) to go get him out of the negaverse, a dimension that is such the opposite of our multiverse that travel there is impossible, and you're not even guaranteed a way back. So it was pretty foolish that the Avenger let his emotions get the better of him and now found himself in the void.
With that exposition dump out of the way, let's turn our attention back to our half-caped friend.
"And may allllllll your Christmases....be white!" he crooned, before coughing up a piece of fabric that was his dinner. He quickly grabbed it and shoved it back in his mouth, hoping no one would see. We did.
As he had finished his daily session of crying and screaming into the void, Avenger now took a look at the multiversal remote. It sat in his hands, inert, completely without power. It didn't seem to work here, and as such, Avenger didn't know how to get back. He pressed the buttons and flipped the switches, and didn't even get as much as light.
He sighed. "536 would know what to do," he murmured. "I wonder if he even..."
As Avenger spoke, he noticed a shimmering in the distance. As if the very wall of the void itself was wobbling, trying to break open. Then, a popping noise happened and a hole ripped open. A voice began to call out..
"VENGY!" it said, but it was faint so Avenger couldn't make out who was trying to speak to him. "If you can hear my voice, hurry! This thing doesn't have enough power to stay on for long!"
At first, Avenger didn't even think what he was seeing was real. It wasn't the first time he hallucinated in here, after all. Your mind can play tricks on you when all you see is white for months and months on end. But then he heard the voice again, more forceful this time. That's when our hero realized he couldn't recognize the voice because he hadn't heard it before. Not exactly. It sounded familiar, but it was also different. Like an echo.
With no real idea of how to get to the break in the void, he started to swim. It seemed like the best idea. Except he was simply moving his arms and legs back and forth, not really getting anywhere.
"You can walk, you dumbass!" The voice from the other side shouted.
Avenger then realized he could walk, and immediately felt like a moron for not trying it before. He just assumed a void would be completely, well, void of any kind of structure. Yet here was a voice from a hole in a wall telling him it was.
"Move it!" The voice commanded.
Avenger got to his feet unsteadily, and began wobbling over to the hole. It seemed so far away, but as he began to take more steps, it grew bigger and bigger. He felt very uncomfortable, almost as if the work he was putting in to escape the void was actually causing it. But, the hero he is, Avenger pressed on and that's when a large hand stuck out from the hole. Not seeing any other alternative, he reached out and grabbed it. It gripped his wrist and pulled him through to an unknown world.
A large man, standing 6'5" and around 260 pounds stood in front of him, long jet black hair and a notable goatee. It was JC, but obviously not the JC that Avenger knew. And yet, it was. Somehow he knew it. He didn't look like the large mohawked man that now called himself the Bogeyman. This was a younger, happier JC. Eagle-eyed readers might notice that he looked strikingly similar to Luther Thunder on Earth #616.
"I'm glad you recognized me," JC said. "I figured you would."
"But how? You..."
"I'm not the JC of your universe. I don't know, face changes are tricky. Sometimes people can tell it's the same person, other times people can't. I'm no scientist, that's what I have my brother for."
"GI is a scientist?" Avenger said, bemused. He last encountered GI almost a year ago, when he handed off his spot in a gauntlet match to him. He didn't seem the scientist type, unless that science was growing new strains of weed.
"No, not GI. Jack." JC said, matter-of-factly. He didn't elaborate, and Vengy wasn't sure he wanted him to. Jack Frost was an insane man in most universes he'd been to, and a mad scientist variant scared him. "Luckily, he explained just enough. There are certain people in certain universes who have a differently-wired brain. All Jacks. Most Avengers, including you. A few others. I'm like, one of ten or twelve JCs that can see the weaknesses between worlds."
"Is that why I can hear the narrator?" Vengy asked, only just now realizing he could once again do so. "Welcome back, friend!" He said looking upward. You too, Vengy.
"I have no idea what you're talking about," JC replied bluntly.
The two were currently in some type of old, run-down warehouse. Avenger wasn't sure what Earth they were on, and he wasn't sure what was going on. But this JC seemed trustworthy, like a kindred spirit. Perhaps that's because in his world, he never experienced any real hardship. This JC wasn't beaten down by mental illness and betrayal.
"So," Avenger said, hoping to change the subject in his own mind, "how did you find me?"
"Jack," JC grunted, as the two made their way to an open area filled with staircases. Some went down, some went up. Most were broken or close to it. The windows weren't in much better shape. The rails were rusted and had tattered clothing holding them together. "He knew that your optimism would be what might help us turn this thing around."
"Turn what thing around?" Avenger asked.
Joe helped Avenger off of a rickety platform onto a larger, bridge-like platform that led to more staircases. It was likewise falling apart. As he did, he explained everything.
"You're not the only one who has met the Creator," he said. "Occasionally, one of us will meet him somehow. Through dreams, fantasies, whatever. Anyway, I have too. So have a few others. And that's why you're here. We need to lift his spirits with a classic good guys save the day story."
"This kind of thing makes my head hurt," Avenger complained. He didn't like contemplating the fact he wasn't real and tried to push it aside. He was usually successful.
"Let me finish," JC continued. "The Creator is in trouble. He's had a very rough year and doesn't want to write anymore. Why do you think the JC of your world is almost retired, or was in a coma? How do you think you got in that void?"
"I pressed a button trying to save Sam," Avenger replied, his voice almost a whisper. "Right?"
"Wrong."
"But, why would this Creator guy abandon us?"
JC thought for a moment, as if he were thinking of how to break some terrible news. "He doesn't have any confidence in his writing, for one. It's been beaten out of him."
The Answer, as he was still known in his universe, broke down everything. He mentioned how the Creator had a rough 2021, how the Creator went through many hardships and how, most importantly, the Creator had been battling borderline personality disorder, and how the treatment had made him feel worse. Part of the story that Avenger had heard before, in more detail. Borderline, after all, gives someone wildly shifting moods and makes them unable to properly react to emotional stimuli without the right skills. The Creator was slowly working on those skills, but felt like giving up. Losing the things he lost had nearly convinced him to do so.
"And so," JC finished. "Writing took a back seat. You didn't push a button, Vengy. The Creator just didn't know what to do with you."
Avenger liked to think his actions were his own, even his mistakes. This latest news was not funny and not a joke. He didn't like it at all. It made him feel terrible.
"The point is," JC added, "everything in existence is breaking down. We need you, because you're the best of us. You're the best of the Creator. You're his favorite."
"Aren't you his favorite? You've been around the longest." Avenger spoke up, finally.
"He puts a lot of himself into me. It's why people sometimes think he's talking through me, even though he never is. Point is, he doesn't like himself, so he definitely doesn't like me."
The last sentence seemed to pain JC, knowing that whoever had created him didn't like him, but he shook his head to will the negative feelings away. Avenger raised a finger, almost as if he wanted to ask something else, when suddenly the platform began to sway. It rocked back and forth and dust fell through the cavernous area they were in, seemingly without a bottom.
At the other end stood a large masked man, with two different masks sewn together. He was a mute and simply growled. The other was scrawny, more Avenger's size, with wild dreadlocks and a face painted up like a clown. That clown grinned like the Cheshire Cat, as it seemed he had finally found the prey he had been looking for. A third man walked up behind them, wearing a distorted version of the Avenger mask.
"I know who they are," JC replied. "They're rejects. Characters the Creator didn't want anymore. Phantasm. Prime. Spit."
Joe nodded to each one as he said their names. At the last, Avenger began to laugh."
"SPIT? What kind of Rob Zombie b-side name is that?" Avenger cackled, bending over and holding his sides.
"SHUT UP!" Spit yelled back. "I was during his angry teenager phase!"
"Some people never grow out of that phase in our line of work," JC said, smirking. It seemed Avenger finding humor in the situation was rubbing off on him.
"It's okay, little buddy," Avenger added. "I'm sure it's perfectly normal to model your entire personality on a shock rocker's entire body of work!"
Spit became furious at that and kicked a rail, which simply popped off and fell below. Phantasm remained silent. Prime put a hand on Spit and forced him back, stepping forward.
"What do you want, Prime?" Avenger replied, taking charge in his own pairing without realizing it.
Avenger stopped for a moment and looked to JC, who still seemed more tired. The energy was being sapped from him. Prime pointed at him to make another point.
"That one is barely clinging to life. A few choice words here and there because the Creator wants to abandon him but can't let go. JC is toxic. JC is bad for your mental health. And so is the Creator, if the people who said those things are to be believed."
Avenger didn't know what to do. Was it possible that beating these three villains would restore the Creator's positive outlook? It wasn't likely, but it was better than nothing. Perhaps that's all stories were, a way for the authors to analyze elements of their own lives and give themselves a form of self-therapy. Maybe creating was just a way to battle their demons in the only way they know how. Maybe...
"Enough theorizing, narrator!" Avenger interrupted. "It's time to fight!"
He stepped forward, ready to deliver as many superhero kicks as he needed to, but JC reached out and put a hand on his chest.
"Not that way," JC said. "There are three of them and this isn't exactly a safe fighting environment."
Avenger lowered his leg, as he was set to leap into battle. "Then how?"
"How else do you combat negativity? Why do you think I brought you here? Your positivity Avenger! Your hope! Do the thing that we're best at. The thing that gets us wins."
"You...want me to cut a promo on them?" Avenger said, unsure of the plan. It seemed kind of silly, when they could just attack them to stop it at any time.
JC shook his head. "No, I want you to cut a promo for your next wrestling match. You'll know it as soon as the Creator begins to type your words. He loves this, and we just have to remind him of that. You take care of the promo, I'll take care of the brute force.
JC stood up, and suddenly Avenger saw flashes of every JC in him. The one that ran ICW. The one that beat Jesse Williams for the OWF title. Another one that fought Hide Yamazaki and won. Another one that became tag team champions with his brother in the WWE, whatever that was. All those JCs and others, giving their strength, somehow to one, as he ran into a three-on-one handicap match on a rickety bridge in a warehouse in the middle of nowhere.
Avenger turned, facing you, the reader, and began to speak. Suddenly, he found that he DID know exactly what match he was booked for.
Avenger nodded triumphantly, as though the Creator was pouring himself into his speech. One last, desperate attempt to keep doing the thing he had been doing for so long.
"You know, I'm pretty simple. I don't really know that much about writing stories or what it takes to battle your own personal demons. I mean, I haven't even fought a real, actual demon yet! Mostly because the research requires watching the Exorcist and NUTS to that! Anyway, my point is, I'm supposed to give a big speech to tell my opponents why I'm going to beat them on December 29."
He stroked his chin, as if he were thinking of the words to say, but the words just kept coming to him without interruption. In the distance, JC had Spit (the person, not the liquid) on his back while he grappled with Prime and Phantasm, holding them back from interrupting.
"I don't know if this speech is going to win. I don't know if this will be great or if anyone will like it. Heck, maybe this whole thing is too meta and too inside and no one will like it! It wouldn't be the first time someone didn't like what I or my large friend over there had to say! 'Avenger's too much like a villain! JC is too mean! You guys bury people!' Whatever that means. But you know what? This isn't about them! It never was!"
Our hero's confidence continued to grow and to prove it, he spun around and gave a dramatic hero pose. As he did, JC's strength also began to grow, which he proved by hitting a big boot on Prime, knocking him off the platform into the chasm below.
Avenger then gained the knowledge of WHO he was facing at Final Fantasy. JC, meanwhile, threw his head backwards and connected with a headbutt on Spit, who went flying backward. He landed near Avenger but at the moment, wasn't a threat.
"And now I find myself against the likes of Nocturne, Cypher, Ataxia and Brandon Hendrix! I gotta tell you, true believers, I like my odds! Well for one, I already beat Hendrix. I superhero kicked him in his spooky mask and got the three count at UGWC Wrestlestock! A superhero always defeats evil, and evil slinks away until it can take a new form and come back. But it won't be enough, Brando! I've got another kick all set up for you!"
Vengy smiled as he said this. JC, meanwhile, was in a battle of bearhugs against Phantasm, with neither side prevailing. Spit was still trying to regain consciousness.
"Cypher? Who knows anything about him? I don't! He just sort of popped up out of nowhere, reminding everyone that The Matrix was probably best left to the 90s where it was created. If you ask me, he's probably more of a Reloaded guy. Maybe he's The Architect, sitting in a room rambling while the rest of us just want to get to the gosh darn action already! I don't know, but since there's no computers around, he'll have no operator to give him the exit from the face of #JUSTICE!"
"And Ataxia? Big spooky boi? Big deal! There's always gotta be some spooky guy who doesn't care if he wins or loses. That's fine, villain, because you lost the last time you were in Level Up and now it's gonna happen again! You're just another Zealot or Sebastian Steel. Heck, you actually WERE Sebastian Steel once, so maybe you are again!"
Spit steadied himself and grabbed a piece of the rail he broke earlier, before making his way to Avenger.
"AVENGER, LOOK OUT!" JC shouted from his nearby tug-of-war.
Spit swung at the Avenger, but Avenger ducked it and hit him with the most powerful SUPERHERO KICK he ever hit. The painted man didn't just go flying off the platform, he was knocked straight out through the window and far off into the distance of this nightmare world.
The world was beginning to repair itself all around him, as JC suddenly found his own strength and lifted Phantasm over his head, chucking him down into the chasm below.
As the last words escaped his lips, he turned to look at JC. JC smiled back at him and suddenly...
"I MISSED YOU!" Avenger said, leaping forward and hugging his companion. "Tell me, what day is it?"
"December 28, man. You keep asking me that, but it's not getting the device done any quicker."
Avenger chuckled and went back to the bed, sitting down. Was his experience a dream? Or did the Creator reward him for his hope by putting him back in his own reality, ready to continue his story? Only time will tell...