Prologue
Six Years Ago
The country previously known as “New Freedonia,” was a squalid hellhole. A land of rocks and mud, and not much else. The people there were too worn down and tired from years of civil war and bloodshed to even remember what their national language was, let alone who was actually in charge of their government. Anarchy ruled the streets, and the war of all against all raged day and night. The country was on its last legs… which was why its liberation was accomplished in less than two hours. Kasos Octavio Victavious IV had seen to that. For the last twelve thousand eight hundred and seventy-seven years, he had been on a mission to take over all of existence, one dimension at a time. Thus far, he had accomplished his goals with no great difficulty. He had arrived in this dimension a week ago, and was already well on his way to cutting it down like all of the rest. He had taken over this country in hours, and promptly renamed it “Victavia.” Few of the peasants of the land even bothered to stand against him, and the ones who tried were soon taught a lesson. He needed someplace quiet to make his preparations for the doom of the rest of this world, and Victavia just so happened to be the first place he landed in this dimension. It was thus the first country to face his wrath, but the rest would soon follow. They’d fall like dominoes; all it would take was a nudge. The slightest effort from him, and everything in his path would collapse. This world was HIS. He absently looked around the interior of his new throne room. Still, it wasn’t the most picturesque spot he could have chosen to launch his plan. This was a target of opportunity though. Most of the buildings in his new land were rather shabby, and it would take time to bring them up to the quality he was used to. On the plus side, there were plenty of peasants around to see to it that his renovation plans were taken care of. The fools would do anything for food, never suspecting that each meal brought them closer and closer to dooming their world. He leaned back in his throne. The throne had been the first thing he had ordered his new servants to construct for him. It wasn’t as elegant as some of his thrones in other dimensions, but it would have to do until he could take over a country with greater wealth. Victavia barely had a supply of gold on hand at all, and what little they did have, scarcely covered the arms of his throne. Pitiful. Kings shouldn’t be forced to sit on what was, in effect, a glorified lawn chair. His new lands did have one advantage though: the people here left him alone, and didn’t ask for constant supervision. They were content to stay in their new homes and eat their new food. They performed their functions, and he could use his time to focus on more important things. They seemed to almost welcome the arrival of his strong hand to guide them and lead them into his glorious future. They were fools. He looked down to glare at the pewter cage attached to his belt, and the small ball of blue light which hovered inside. Eight-hundred and two years ago, Kasos had been forced to kidnap Princess Rayn of the Fairy Folk of the Meadow from her home dimension. At the time, he had abducted the insect in an attempt to extort her father the king into revealing the location of the hidden power of the Fairies. The fool had not yet relented though, and as such, Kasos was forced to put up with her constant yammering at him. He would break her spirit though. The strain would get to her one day soon, and she’d… “<I think that guy’s talking to you again, Ty.>” His prisoner chimed at him in the tingly language of her people. She flew closer to the wall of her cell, indicating that he should focus on the man standing a few feet from them. “<You should probably pay attention. Might be good if one of us was.>” He blinked. His visitor was indeed talking to him about something. Still? This meeting was so tiresome. He needed to start forcing one of his new peasants to have these meetings for him. Kings shouldn’t be bothered with such trifles. It was like a god being asked to observe an oscillating fan, and then expecting him to be paying attention to what the fan was doing. Who CARED what it was doing!?! It was a FAN! The man known as “Commodore Cruel” had arrived in Victavia an hour before, and had spent the time since going on and on about some club he was the leader of, which he apparently wanted Kasos to join. The idea that Kasos would have any desire to commit “crime” was asinine. The concept of “crime” implied that there was some authority greater than himself, who could set rules on morality, conduct, and legalities. Kasos acknowledged nothing superior to himself. If he desired to commit some act, then it wasn’t “criminal,” it was obviously the “right” thing to do. His actions were the result of his choices, and thus, could in no way be viewed as “wrong.” He was perfect. Crime was impossible if you were perfect and in charge of all creation. When YOU wrote the laws, you couldn’t POSSIBLY break them. Kasos also didn’t need the man to tell him about any of those people or their idiotic club. He already knew who the man was, and what he wanted. The Consortium of Chaos was a super-villain organization in any number of different dimensions, and the staff was usually the same. Kasos didn’t need to hear about any of those people again, as he had already killed them dozens of times, on dozens of different worlds. He didn’t need introductions again. They were so tedious. Everything was growing tedious to be perfectly honest. Always the same actors in the same play. Their roles may switch around with each production, but the essential show remained unchanged. And it always ended the same way: with Kasos pulling the curtain on their little ensemble, and taking his bow on the stage alone. It was HIS spotlight, and HIS stage, and HE was the only member of the cast or audience who mattered. All of existence would be a solo act soon; a one man show starring, directed and written by HIM. He did not share the spotlight with anyone. He slouched further down in his chair and rested his chin in his palm, not bothering to listen or even to try to keep the boredom from showing on his face. It didn’t matter. The Commodore didn’t matter. The only thing in the multiverse that mattered was Kasos. PERIOD. As such, it didn’t matter if he offended the man or not. It didn’t matter if he strung him up in the driveway, or embraced him as a “friend.” No matter how he chose to deal with him, the man would die with all the others. He was already dead, Kasos just hadn’t yet decided when to actually kill him. Thus, it really wasn’t worth the effort to listen to what he was saying. The man chattered on and on, using an inordinate number of words which started with the letter “C.” “C” was a rare one. The different versions of the man always seemed to choose one letter to focus on in each dimension, and Kasos had only seen two or three Commodores choose “C” before. His personal favorite was the Commodore who chose to use only “X” words. He barely spoke at all, and Kasos enjoyed the silence immensely. He was almost sorry when he had to kill that one. Almost. His prisoner made a buzzing sound. “<I think he’s waiting for your answer, Ty.>” She had taken to calling him that several hundred years before. Apparently, she had gotten sick of “You bloodthirsty tyrant!” or “You egotistical tyrant!”, and had decided to shorten it to “Ty” in order to save time. Either that, or she had simply forgotten his actual name. He didn’t care. Whatever she chose to call him would be only temporary anyway. She and everyone else would soon be calling him by a NEW name: “Master.” He rolled his eyes. “Let him wait. This is MY land, and I am its king. If he wants me to rescue his pitiful band, then he should be willing to wait for the privilege of hearing my voice.” “<…Also, he’s not deaf, so I’m pretty sure he can hear you.>” “Again, I simply do not care, Highness. I will not be rushed, by you or anyone else! Am I understood!?!” She leaned her back against the side of her cell, and sighed. “<Suit yourself. You always do.>” She made an absent, disinterested humming sound. “<So, we going to join up with them this trip, or not?>” He grabbed for his goblet of wine and took a thoughtful swallow. “Do NOT rush my decisions. That is NOT your place. I will issue my decree on this matter when I am good and ready.” This was something new. He had killed countless versions of those people, but they had never asked him to actually join them before. At least, he couldn’t remember it happening before now anyway… but to be fair, it was rather hard to understand people’s words when their mouths were filled with blood. It was entirely possible that they could have asked him to join at least once before, and he had just been unable to recognize their gurgling as an invitation. In either case, he had no desire to join them or anyone else. A “team” implied that he couldn’t do everything on his own. That he needed help. And he didn’t. She busied herself by straightening her iridescent wings. “<Personally, my vote is ‘no.’ I don’t want to. I find them annoying enough when we only have to look at them for the ten seconds it takes you to kill them, so I can’t imagine how bad living with those losers would be. I think we should just gut him now and be done with it.>” He slowly placed his goblet down on the arm of his throne. “You would rather that we not become a part of his organization?” She nodded. “<That place is a dump, and the people are nuts.>” And the decision was instantly made. Kasos shot to his feet and strode towards the Commodore. “I have considered your offer, and have decided to accept it. I look forward to gaining your servitude, and the things it will bring about.” …Like your deaths, and his hostage’s misery. Kasos smiled evilly, very pleased with the way this was working out. He had been planning on telling the man “no,” but if that’s what Rayn wanted him to do, then he’d sign up for the Consortium right now! HA! He’d join them for a few months, just to drive his hostage crazy. Besides, if he was a part of their “team,” killing them would be all the easier. They’d never even see it coming. Kasos enjoyed playing mind games with his prisoner. She needed to be shown that HE was in charge. He was in control of her destiny. HE decided if she lived or died! As such, he never missed an opportunity to REALLY annoy her. Forcing her to live with those rejects would be just what she deserved! Someday soon, she’d reach her breaking point and snap. BEG him to free her from the horrors living with the Consortium was foisting upon her. The indignity of someone as magnificent and regal as herself, being forced to wallow in the foul sty that was their Lair. He dwelt with some satisfaction on the image of Rayn weeping piteously at his feet and crying for mercy. The Commodore looked just as excited at Kasos’ acceptance as he was. “Capital! Your commitment is to be credited! At your convenience, please choose a codename for your criminal contrivances.” Yes, of course. He had forgotten about the Consortium’s asinine use of code names. It was ridiculous. Everyone should know EXACTLY who was killing them: KASOS! He didn’t need to hide behind some juvenile pseudonym which would disguise his greatness. He was proud of everything he did and said. It was RIGHT. It was an HONOR to be struck down by someone as perfect as himself, and using any name but his own would rob his opponents of that privilege. He opened his mouth to refuse, but then a new idea occurred to him. He glanced down at his captive, and then back at his new co-worker. “You can call me…Tyrant.”
