Previous Post The Moderator Saga: One More Day “Nothing makes sense to me anymore,” Dean K. Fox asserted to the friends and family members who had gathered in his low-rent, one-room apartment in Parodiopolis. “That’s one of the reasons why your loved ones asked me to stage this intervention for you,” Dr. Maximillian Valium reminded the working-class nerd who was the secret identity of the former New Lair Legion member known to the public as CalmSereneFlunkyBoy… “Whatever it is that’s troubling you, dearie, we’ll help you through it,” Dean’s frail, elderly Aunt Meg reassured him, “but please, stop insisting that you’re that awful CSFB… character! Why, if it were true, I don’t know that my heart could take it!” “Yeah, seriously, daddy-o, that joke is about as uncool as Khrushchev,” disapproved William “Billy” Blake Jr., who had forgotten fighting Dean as the second Great Red Dragon, “especially since you know what that CSFB… crumb-bum did to my dad!” “But … your dad is alive, like you, and leading that team of rogue hero hunters, the 1.21 Gigawatts!” Dean shook his head. “And you’re my mom, not my aunt … and as long as I was doing the right thing, you’d believe in me and support me, no matter what!” “Dean, baby, I know you’ve been hurting since we broke up,” April Alice Apple sought to soothe him, “but these impossible dreams are hurting you even more. You say we got married, and even raised a kid together, but we’re way too young for any of that!” “I say it because I remember it,” Dean insisted, “and even the stuff that we all remember the same doesn’t make any sense. How did Billy’s dad ever get roped into working for the government, if Billy never died, and his death never set off the sequence of events that drove his dad over the edge? What actually happened during my membership in the New Lair Legion, if they never knew my secret identity? And what about everything else that happened, with everyone else who knew that I was CSFB…? And … while I’m at it, why would a guy who can create his own Silly Suit out of Impossibilitium have to resort to selling photos of himself to the newspaper whose editorials attack him as a criminal?” “As if I wouldn’t spot that day-glo menace a mile away, much less working as a freelancer in my offices,” scoffed J. Jonah Jerkson, publisher of The Daily Trombone. “You’re the classic hard-luck hero,” Dr. Valium explained patiently. “People can relate to your unceasing uphill struggles and identify with your imperfect personality.” Dean blinked and cocked his head to one side. “In this … reality, I’m a stupid, selfish, luckless, loveless loser who’s permanently frozen in post-adolescence, with no potential and no aspirations for future improvement,” he squinted sidelong at Dr. Valium. “As The Moderator would point out, that makes you an ideal everyman,” Dr. Valium conceded with a chuckle. “You’re a perfect example for the average person to emulate.” Dean startled everyone by whipping a pistol out of his waistband and waving it around. “Snagged this from a mugger who’s been posing as me,” Dean growled through gritted teeth. “I still couldn’t stop him from getting away, though, or snatching one of my Sticky String Sprayers … and I never thought to cancel my credit cards, that he also stole, because apparently, it’s my lot in life to be written as an idiot,” he laughed brayingly. “And what do you think you’re going to do with that, then?” Dr. Valium snorted dismissively. “Because you’re not going to shoot us.” “Why not?” Dean shot back, as he cocked the gun. “It’s not like any of you are real.” “But you don’t know that for certain, do you?” Dr. Valium discerned astutely. “And you’re too much of a hero to risk killing innocent people.” “My real friends and family were the ones who made me a hero,” Dean snarled, as he pressed the barrel of the snub-nose to Dr. Valium’s forehead, “and you took them away.” Dr. Valium didn’t even flinch. “The people here are the only friends and family you have left,” he spat out impatiently, “and this is just one more day in the rest of your life, so the sooner you learn to accept the sacrifices of living this life, the better off we’ll all be. It’s the only way that’s left to you.” Dean lowered the revolver. “You’re right,” he finally flashed a serene smile, “except it’s not one more day, it’s the last day … but there is only one way left to me.” And with that, he raised the Saturday night special to his temple and pulled the trigger. __________ Dreamcatcher Kokopelli Foxglove jerked upright from the virtual reality simulator, as the bland pastels of his Impossibilitium Silly Suit flared to life as screaming neon. CrazySugarFreakBoy! was back, and he was righteously pissed. “The sleeper has awakened,” CSFB! grinned in gleeful outrage. Dr. Valium and The Moderator barely had time to back up, as CSFB! tore through the security forces surrounding him in a fluorescent flash of vicious vengeance, and escaped from Herringcarp Asylum with almost insulting ease. “You told me these treatments would keep him pacified,” The Moderator recalled. “It should have been everything he ever could have wanted,” Dr. Valium breathed deeply, trying not to tremble, “but … he actually chose to commit suicide, rather than live out the life of his superhero idol. He’s such a willful contrarian that he was literally willing to die, just to … spite me. He must be the most hateful human being alive.” The Moderator nodded. “And now, thanks to you,” he noted, “the most hateful human being alive is on the loose, and more dangerous than ever.”

CSFB!'s friend Lara Night would have been the first to point out that nobody is better at telling fantasy from reality than CSFB!. Their plan was doomed from the start.