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Chapter Text

Former Game Theory host and 50th President of the United States Matthew Patrick was having a rough day as he anxiously sat down in the Oval Office. The holographic screen located in front of his desk was showing a live feed of reporters gathering for a sudden press conference by Carol Holiday, House speaker and de facto leader of the opposition Republican party in front of the Town Hall in Hometown. Carol had been a thorn in his administration ever since the town she was mayor of swept the headlines due to some ‘delta rune taking place there just after the 2032 election that landed him this job. Carol leveraged this and the momentum of the general populace’s curiosity with these so-called Darkners to first take over the Republican party and then sweep the 2034 midterms, winning both the house and the senate and deadlocking Patrick’s vision for a better America. 

As he and the reporters waited for Carol to appear, his brain involuntarily produced a traumatizing vision that had haunted him for the past three and a half years. Despite the sheer realness of the sleep paralysis session that had ignited this daily dose of trauma in his presidency, no physical evidence could be connected to the mysterious figure who had supposedly ended the life of MatPat’s old friend and 2032 Republican presidential candidate Jimmy Donaldson. Vice President Zohran Mamdani waltzed into the office to accompany Patrick on his viewing of this announcement, but left Patrick to himself after seeing him in a dazed state. 

Gaster stood over Jimmy’s grayed body, a sickening jet-black grin over his face.

“I DID ALWAYS KNOW HE WAS A ROTTEN,” he laughed with a manic glee, shoving two eggs into his mouth. One could only hope they were boiled. “ EGG.”

Carol refused to enable his delusions of comedy. Such an awful pun—And it wasn't even about Christmas. That was the real unforgivable part, she thought. 

“Stop making awful puns and clean this up Windgings,” she snipped. Gaster frowned, sullen like a child told he wasn't allowed to have any more sweets.

“ALRIGHT,” he said, pulling out a vacuum from Angel-Knows-Where. 

“Well then,” Carol said, looking over the mess. “Any other candidates?”

Gaster shook his head. Carol felt a vicious grin spreading its way across her face.

“Wonderful.”

On the announcement podium, there she stood, a microphone in hand and a funny-looking floating clown right next to her.

“Citizens of America,” she started. “It is my pleasure to announce that-”

“UEHEEHEE! CITIZENS, CITIZENS! VOTE ME, ME, AND YOU'LL BE FREE, FREE!”

…

“Ignore him,” she said, in spite of the fact that he was the actual presidential candidate. “He's a lunatic.”

Gaster raised an eyebrow, silently asking the question of ‘ Are you seriously insulting your own proxy candidate?’

“LUNATIC? WHY, CITIZENS, CITIZENS, I AM THE ONLY SANE ONE HERE!” said Jevil. Carol saw that disrespectful purple dragon girl scoffing in the audience. She recalled tha-

“AMERICA, I’LL SHOW YOU WHAT IT MEANS TO BE FREE!”

“Just don’t end up in a wheelchair please… or you’ll sabotage our entire operation.” Carol thought to herself as she continued to read from a predetermined script, trying to not go insane from Jevil’s unpredictable interruptions. She was seriously questioning Gaster’s master plan within two minutes of phase one being executed.

“FOUR YEARS OF PATRICK AND MAMDANI HAS RUINED AMERICA! IF YOU VOTE ME, I’LL DOUBLE THE CHAOS! CHAOS! IT’LL BE FUN!”

“Following careful consultation, I am officially declaring my support for Jevil as the Republican presidential candidate for the 2036 presidential election.” Carol finished her script with a very skeptical deep breath. “I will be taking questions now,” she said just before the verbal flood of bewildered journalists rushed the podium.

“Carol, what is your master pl-”

“Speaker Holiday, what are you thi”

“Can Darkners even run for the preside-”

“Is Jevil even thirty five years o-”

“Are you going to run for Vice President of the United States on the Jevil ticket?”

“No, I will not be the vice presidential candidate.” Carol harshly responded, desperately wanting to escape from the media flood. She turned her head around and gave Gaster the stink eye before continuing her answer. “I will retain my position as Speaker of the House, as I find Jevil is more suited for the role of preside-”

“IF YOU DON’T VOTE FOR ME, THEN YOU’LL LOSE!”

All the journalists ignored Jevil’s chaos and asked another question in unison somehow. Even some of the Hometown residents joined in this unscripted collective question. 

“Then who is going to run for Vice President then!” 

Carol silently stood still at the podium as her brain malfunctioned. Despite Gaster’s genius and her political intellect, they had failed to account for the fact that America in fact, does also have a Vice President and they needed to run one.

“Speaker Holiday, are you there?”

A bright light erupted from the air between Carol and the floating maniacal Jevil, blinding the audience momentarily and damaging several expensive news cameras. 

A blue figure with white hair and eyes, immediately recognizable to any Darkner or Castle Town tourist, emerged from the mysterious light and levitated down onto the granite steps of Town Hall.

“I shall be the vice president of the United Stateth!” Rouxls announced to a bewildered audience.

Silence.

“Well, there’s your candidate.” Gaster whispered to Carol.

“The Republican party is proud to announce Darkner and former Duke of Puzzles Rouxls Kaard as our Vice Presidential Candidate!” Carol said in a very forced tone. 

Jevil stopped dancing around to stare at Kaard for a moment, then returned to his floating act.

“VOTE FOR ME AND KAARD TO GET YOUR FREEDOM! FREEDOM!”

“Uh… Glory to the holiday administration?” Rouxls said confusingly, having appeared in front of Town Hall with zero knowledge of the plan. 

“I will uhh… not be taking any more questions.” Carol quickly muttered, seeing her chance of escape from the increasingly curious press. She immediately turned around and sped walked into the sanctuary of town hall, escorted out of view by Briefcase Dude and Politics Bear. Gaster also discreetly disappeared.

“So it seems like in exactly four months, we will have to face off and beat an unknown individual who is insane, chaotic but most importantly, unpredictable.” President Patrick said to his cabinet during an emergency meeting in the White House, still anxious from Holiday’s sudden announcement.

“Along with a vice presidential candidate who reportedly committed animal abuse while serving as Duke in the Card Kingdom.” Vice President Mamdani interjected.

“There’s no way the populace will capitulate to this inexperienced insanity, right?” Patrick motioned across the table to the CEO of the Democratic Party’s contracted polling firm, John Poll. 

“Unfortunately, our analysts found out that support for a Republican administration spiked five points in the hours after Speaker Holiday’s announcement. Ninety four percent of President Holiday supporters retained their support for Jevil/Kaard after the announcement, with only three percent of respondents shifting to your party. At this point, to describe it bluntly, you’re going to be cooked in four months if these trends stay where they are.”

“I understand your concern for how cooked we are and appreciate your brutal honesty.” Patrick said.

“It may seem bad, but concrete rumors have spread in my industry that may serve as a lifeline for your inevitable reelection campaign.” Cam P. Aign, the Democratic chief campaign manager said as they walked into the conference room. 

“Have you been listening to our conversation on the other side of the door?” Mamdani asked.

“I cannot confirm or deny that.” They replied. 

Cam had always been a wild card in Patrick’s close advisor circle. Despite their eccentricity and lack of experience five years ago, Patrick’s gut had been right in choosing Aign for his successful election run in 2032. Hopefully they can save him in the re-election too. 

“What’s our saving grace then?” Patrick asked.

“Well, according to my colleagues who also work in the field, not one campaign management company wants to be associated with anything to do with Jevil/Kaard. Many see it as an act of PR suicide in the corporate world. If Holiday can’t get any reputable campaign companies under her belt, we might be able to edge the Republicans out in terms of organization and game.” Cam said, summoning a holographic floating screen to present her hastily made Google slides with graphs.

Patrick and Mamdani took it all in and thanked Cam simultaneously. “We may finally have a way to survive the upcoming battle and continue our fight to serve Americans First.” Mamdani announced positively to the cabinet.

Kris, Susie and Ralsei were having a cool ass tea party in their connected bedrooms, cooling off after Holiday’s announcement. Castle Town had been bustling as floods of Darkners returned from Hometown, further adding to the mountainload of tourists injecting Dark Dollars into the local economy by purchasing Fangamer merchandise. Ralsei’s castle was the only quiet part of the sanctuary, cordoned off for the Prince’s weekly tea party.

“Glory to the Holiday Administration." Kris muttered as the three of them toasted their teacups.

“I still can’t believe that we managed to bribe Gaster into giving all of us freedom with Toriel’s butterscotch-cinnamon pie.” Susie said right before downing one of the cakes in one gulp. “I’m surprised our journey went down such a weird route , but in the end everyone had a happy ending.”

“I’m happy for you two and everyone. It seems like that ever since you two appeared in my kingdom and the week where we changed the world’s destiny things have only gone uphill. Thanks to you two bribing Gaster, I can even enter the light world freely along with every other darkner. If there were thousands of AUs and I had to choose one to permanently stay in, it would definitely be this one.” Ralsei casually said as he prodded at his own very tasty cake slice with a fork. 

Suddenly, a wooshing noise erupted down the hallway leading to Susie’s bedroom door before the door exploded. Jevil appeared from the smoke, Rouxls Kaard behind him.

“What the hell?” Susie yelled, dropping her teacup in the process.”

“KRIS, SUSIE, RALSEI, I NEED YOUR HELP!”

“Jevil, I know you’re running for president, but what can we do for you that Carol’s high level team can’t.”

Rouxls Kaard responded with their current predicament. “Humans think we're too chaotic and no campaign agency wants to work for us. Carol told us to find someone else to help us.”

Ralsei immediately rebutted rationally. “Well, we have zero experience with helping someone win an election. I think you should look for someone els-”

“KRIS! I’LL GIVE YOU INFINITE MOSS IF WE WIN!”

“Infinite… moss?” Kris yelped as DETERMINATION rushed through their veins. “I’m in.”

“Well, it seems like we have to follow Kris’s lead, so I’m joining too.” Susie reluctantly muttered. “Jevil, once you’re president, can you do me a favor.”

“YES! UEE HEE HEE!”

“Whatever adventure you two embark on, I’ll accompany you until the very end!” Ralsei said, volunteering himself too.

The fun gang wrapped up their tea party, before waltzing down to the first floor of the castle, mentally readying themselves for the four month long marathon that would start the second they ascended back into the light world.

“Thou shalt outsmart the Democrats!” Kaard ordered.

“We will, but we might need more help.” Ralsei replied. The fun gang and the two candidates made it to the entryway of the castle, familiar darkners gazing at their unexpected appearance. 

Suddenly, a black shiny blur rushed down from the sky above them and floated just in front of them.

“Dess?” Susie yelled, gesturing friendly signals at the Knight. Despite their previous conflict, it turns out that Knight was just a chill gal put in impossible circumstances during that unforgettable week. After bribing Gaster with the pie, Dess unlocked the ability to seamlessly switch from her regular form to her Knight form, even in the light world.

“Azzy? TOGORE?” Kris screamed as their two siblings stepped down from the Knight’s back, rushing forward for a three way bear hug.

“Looks like someone needed help for their next adventure.” Asriel said, kneeling down for the hug.

“We are all going to help you.” Togore said monotonously as he spread his arms out. “Jevil is going to win the presidency.”

Chapter Text

The Jevil/Kaard for President (JK4P) campaign crew gathered together in Carol’s mansion after being called over by Speaker Holiday herself. In the hour that had passed since Jevil recruited the fun gang into his ranks, word had spread across Castle Town and many darkners had volunteered to sign up. The living room was packed with volunteers and familiar faces as everyone waited for Carol to assign them orders. With no contracted managers in sight and Carol having just hours before having to return to Washington D.C. for another House session, the whole process was more disorganized than Alphys’s teaching but at the end of the hour people were beginning to lock in on contributing to Jevil’s presidential run.

Anybody with any smidgen of qualification or experience was placed in an important role. For example, Spamton was assigned to the JK4P’s Department of digital outreach, and immediately started to bother people by mass sending Jevil-Kaard propaganda to every email address in existence, starting with Hometown residents. 

Tenna, who snagged a ludicrous multibillion dollar contract with Paramount Skydance for daily episodes of Mr. Ann Tenna’s TV Time soon after the bribing of Gaster, was to be tasked with using his media connections to “discreetly” push pro-Jevil/Kaard and anti-Patrick/Mamdani ideologies across the world of cable. He was also eager to and was assigned to make sure all presidential debates were to take place on his platform and with him as the moderator in a totally unbiased way. 

What would become the most important puppet supporting Carol and Gaster’s master plan however, would be the ground team. This assignment was given to some very important people: the Fun Gang, Azzy, Dess and Togore. Noelle and Berdly were also given supporting roles and would accompany the ground team on some out-of-Hometown excursions when it was needed. 

Carol turned her head over to the remaining few in the living room, after everyone else left to begin the treacherous journey against a superior force. 

“Kris, Susie, Ralsei. You three will be part of the Ground Team due to your previous qualifications of persuasion (bribing Gaster) along with plot armor. Hopefully you don’t have to fight any Democrats in a violent way on your excursions, but your main role is to fill up any opponent’s mercy bar to convert them to supporting Jevil/Kaard for president.” 

“Are we really suited for this?” Ralsei asked skeptically. “I’ve never really been outside of Hometown, yet alone Castle Town since we darkners were given freedom .”

“Don’t worry toothpaste boy, you’ll be our emotional support prince on this new adventure.” Susie playfully replied, patting the fluffy boy’s head.

“Moss… Anything for that moss…” Kris sounded like they were possessed.

“I think Kris says we are.” Susie translated.

“If my best friends want to, then I’ll accompany them!” Ralsei agreed, capitulating to Carol’s assignment.

“Good.” Carol announced. Then she turned over to Dess, Asriel and Togore. Dess and Asriel were in their darkner forms, competing in a seemingly serious aura-farming competition as an incomprehensible power emerged from their bodies. Togore was standing there in his default pose between the two aurafarmers, still as a statue.

“Carol, what do you request?” Togore asked monotonously, sensing the lukewarm coldness on his skin from Carol’s aura. He broke from his statue formation and casually walked forward, gradually escaping from the secondhand wrath of Dessriel who were in the climax of their aura farming competition. 

“Togore, your secret ability is being Togore-tastic. I promise you, it will come handy on your excursions with your siblings and friends.” Carol replied in a softer tone, like she used to when Noelle was younger. 

“Okay Carol, I understand. Please make sure my mom and dad are happy when I’m gone.”

“I will. Pinky promise.”

Togore had now been officially recruited. Now onto the last two. Carol had a tried and trusted strategy to get her daughter and her boyfriend in line.

“ December Holiday .”

The all so familiar frostbitten connotations associated with her full name muttered by her mother involuntarily ejected the Knight from the aurafarming competition. The sudden imbalance in destructive aura interference that stabilized aural force in the competition immediately knocked Dess over, sending her into the air just as she swung her helmet around. Asriel, the God of Hyperdeath, fared just a bit better than Dess and was also launched backwards from the consequences of catastrophic unscheduled aura-farming ejection. Their ejections also had the side effect of releasing a modest shockwave in the Holiday resident’s living room, knocking and disturbing several dozen precisely placed decorations and giving Asgore ten more hours of housekeeping to do. 

Dess and Asriel returned to their lightner forms, staring at a very inconvenienced Carol from their positions on the floor of the living room. Their facial expressions were… anxious of what they were expecting to come next.

Carol sternly instructed the Fun Gang and Togore to exit the Holiday mansion and begin their first assignment. The three heroes and Togore touched grass for the first time in hours, and noticed that A: the sun was setting and B: the temperature was dropping rapidly. When the gates closed behind them, everyone opened their phones and had to precisely skim through hundreds upon hundreds of Spamton’s Jevil-Kaard posts to find their assignments.

Susie was the first to get the assignment open, after blocking several Spamton popups and immediately skimming through the political nothingburgers until she got an indication of their destination. “So our first assignment is to… fucking California?”

“But Hometown is located in New England. How are we supposed to get there within… Thirty hours?” Ralsei asked.

“We could wait for my brother and December to come out of the house then discuss.” Togore replied.

Susie took one glance backwards towards the amber-coated pristine mansion through the gate, and caught the aggressive yelling seeping through the windows.

“I don’t think Dess and Asriel are available to us right now, Togore.” Susie said. “Any other ideas?”

“We don’t have a car. We don’t have enough money for any Spirit Airlines flight, and even so Susie would take up two seats which would make it ever so pricier.” Togore mentioned, informing the… two oth-

“Wait. Where is my younger sibling?” Togore swiveled his head around, his ears flapping around in the cool spring evening.

Susie also noticed Kris’s absence. “You’ve got a point. Where the hell is Kris? Like they were with us like ten seconds ago!” 

“Maybe they’re finding a solution to our transport problem.” Ralsei said. “They’re always the first to solve puzzles, let’s just wait for them to come back.”

Five minutes later, as the sun was about to drop over the horizon and plunge Hometown into darkness, an unexpected pair of bright lights approaching the Holiday mansion blinded Susie, Ralsei and Togore.

When the eye floaters dissipated, the first thing Ralsei saw was a blue pickup truck, its left side pointed directly at him. The driver of the truck was short and their hair was barely visible at the bottom of the driverside window. 

“Isn’t that my dad’s BergenTruck?” Togore asked, gently rubbing his eyes after recovering.

“Kris, when the fuck did you know how to drive?” Susie was dumbfounded, but at least the ground team had a way across America now.

“Kris, I didn’t know you could do drive!” Ralsei felt proud of how much Kris had achieved.

“I’m not driving. It is.” Kris said, gesturing towards a floating red heart levitating right in front of their chest, supposedly telekinetically controlling the steering wheel. “I just press the pedal on the left or the right when it signals me to. Sorry for nearly running you three over. First time in the driver’s seat, as you have probably deduced.” 

“We have no time to waste. We should probably get into my dad’s truck, even if Kris is driving it.” Togore said.

“I call shotgun!” Susie yelled, before running over to pry open the passenger side door. Tugging at the handle five times in two seconds, she realized that the locking bolt was stronger than her. Kris slowly reached across the cab to manually unlock the passenger side door, leaving Susie a bit flustered that her show of brute force had backfired. Still, she hopped in, slammed the door and sandwiched her hands between the rear of her head and the ill-adjusted headrest, fluttering her hair in the process.

“I’m guessing… me and Togore sit in the bed of the truck? Is that safe?” Ralsei asked, skeptical of Kris’s antics. 

Kris nodded. Susie jokingly mocked Ralsei.

“Should’ve called before I did toothpaste boy. It’s like luxury here in the cab.” 

“Nono… you two can sit in the cab. I can manage anything as long as you two are happy.” Ralsei replied. “Although you may have wanted to ask Togore first.”

“It’s fine. I can sit in the back.” Togore said.

“Okay then.” Ralsei said as he tried to climb up the rear bumper of the Bergentruck, the robe fluttering in the light breeze. Once he was safely cradled in the bed, he helped Togore up too. 

“We’re both secured and ready.” Ralsei said, as Togore lifted a thumbs up that was supposed to be visible from Kris’s rearview mirror.

“Hey Susie, can you help me adjust that mirror thing on the ceiling? I can’t reach it.” Kris asked.

“Sure, no problem” Susie replied as she reached her left arm out and tugged on the mirror, immediately snapping it off in the process.

“That might be a problem, uh, sorry Kris.”

Ralsei, seeing the fate of their primary way of non-auditory communication, began tapping on the rear tempered glass panel to signal that the two boys were ready.

“Susie, you’re my new rearview mirror.” Kris said. “Every few seconds, look backwards and tell me what’s there. I do not want to damage my dad’s truck further, as I have already ‘borrowed’ it without his knowledge.”

“Okay okay, I’ll try. Ralsei seems to want us to get out of Hometown and to California, judging by his increasingly impatient expression at our antics.”

The soul told Kris to pull the lever in the middle to the “R” position as it turned the steering wheel all the way to the left. Kris obligated, then a red protrusion pointed at the right pedal, sending the pickup backwards. The first few gear shifts to get out of the Holiday’s driveway proved a bit bumpy as Ralsei and Togore had to dodge pine tree branches, but soon things got familiar as the four person ground team drove out of Hometown and to… California.

Chapter Text

Hometown was really really isolated. The only link between the settlement and the rest of the United States was a singular one lane road that weaved through hectares of forest. In the moonless dusk, the only speck of light came from the headlights of the BergenTruck. They had been out of Hometown for fifteen minutes already, the Soul activating supercruise as all Kris did was stepping on the right pedal every twenty seconds or so to maintain their dangerously high speed.

The only noise was the humming of the tires, and it was getting to Susie.

“Hey Kris, why don’t we turn on the radio?” Susie asked.

Kris looked at the Soul. The So-

“Sorry, too late.” Susie said, reaching over to the center console and turning on the radio.

The speakers immediately started to blast incomprehensible static.

“This music is fire.” Togore said, his voice muffled by the glass barrier and the noise of the wheels.

“Kris, how do I operate this?” Susie asked.

Kris shook their head.

“Don’t worry, I’ve got this.” the Soul said, translating to the right by a couple inches and launching thin vein-like arms from its midsection to tinker at the center console.

“What music do you want?”

“Whatever my dad plays when he’s driving.” Kris answered.

“Copy that.” the Soul said and typed away at the tactile interface of the old pickup. “This one song seems to have been played on loop, and it has some very catchy lyrics.”

“Can we sing along?” Ralsei asked, through the glass panel.

“Sure Ralsei, but don’t put us to sleep.” Susie jokingly replied. “Especially since Kris is driving.”

“I have never sung before.” Togore added on.

Kris interrupted. “I hear you sing all the time in the shower back home.” 

“Don’t tell your friends that. Plus, I was just practicing.”

The Soul finished its setup and pressed PLAY. Then immediately moved back to the steering wheel to swerve the truck away from a ditch.

Kris, Susie, Ralsei and Togore all immediately began singing together, as the lyrics were immediately recognizable and memorable. Although the vocal quality was miles away from being professional, the fun-o-meter was through the roof.

🎵 Driving in my truck right after a beer 🎵

🎵 Hey that bump is shaped like a deer 🎵

🎵 DUI, how about you die 🎵

🎵 I’ll go a hundred miles, an hour 🎵

Suddenly, something deer-sized landed hard onto the road a few hundred feet in front of the Bergentruck. “What the fuck is that?” the Soul yelled, tugging at Kris to slam on the brakes. They were still distracted by the gang’s improv karaoke session, so it had to pretend to slam itself back into Kris’s body to break them out of their musical trance.

“WHAT?” Kris yelled at the Soul.

“KRIS! THE BRAKES!” the Soul replied loudly, managing to somehow overpower Susie’s singing.

Kris looked through the windshield and saw a shiny black figure with a glimpse of familiar white fur behind it just in front of the pickup’s path. They needed to know no further and slammed the brakes as hard as possible.

The tires screeched as the pickup truck was forced to zero from a hundred miles an hour to prevent unintentional vehicular manslaughter.

“Kris, wha-” Susie confusingly asked before she was hurled into the plastic of the passenger dashboard. Susie would always wear her seatbelt after this incident. Two furry splats resonating from the rear glass panel interrupted the high pitched noise of the brakes. 

The truck squealed to a stop just a couple inches away from the newly appeared object. Kris’s foot hurt from all the pressing, but they were the least injured. Susie’s snout looked battered from her unscheduled battle with the passenger dash, and Ralsei and Togore’s faces were pressed flat against the rear window, looking as if their plushie forms were vacuum sealed.

“I think… we might need some patching up…” Togore muttered.

“Hold on, I can cast BetterHeal.” Susie replied despite the stinging on her face. She opened the passenger door and stepped out into the cold before climbing up into the bed to aid the two injured boys. 

The figures that appeared seemed to have moved out of the way. Kris turned their head to the driver side window and saw… the Roaring Knight and the God of Hyperdeath.

Kris involuntarily exhaled.

“Kris! You almost ran us over!” Dess said in a lighthearted tone.

“... sorry.” Kris replied. “We were distracted…”

“How did you even borrow our dad’s truck?” Azzy asked.

“Oh, I just morphed one of my veins into a lockpicking kit and got the door open in ten seconds.” the Soul replied. “Borrowing the truck was Kris’s idea, I just help with the picking and the steering.”

“Well, we escaped Carol’s wrath for now. Our assignment was to find you four and then accompany you to California.” Dess said.

“Did Carol specify how we would get to California?” Kris said.

“Uhhh… no.”

Three green orbs emerged from the bed of the truck as Susie patched herself, Ralsei and Togore up back to MAX health. The three goobers descended from the back to see what the commotion was.

“Dess? How the hell did you even get here?” Susie asked, dumbfounded. She had stepped down onto the asphalt and was now confronting the Knight face to face, the pickup truck just next to them.

“I flew here from Hometown and Azzy held onto my back. We trailed the road out for a bit until we saw a speck of light and tried to get your attention. But that failed so we had to summon an encounter directly. Apologies for the injuries.”

“You swooned my ass thrice back in the day.” Susie replied. “It’s no biggie.”

“You flew here?” Ralsei asked. “Remember what happened the first time you tried to fly in the light world? The US air force got spooked, sent a few fighters after you and you swooned one of their F-35s. How much exactly did Speaker Holiday have to pay to hush that up? Especially the seventy Fangamer plushies of me the poor pilot demanded.”

“I uhhh… overreacted that time. I’ve changed.” Dess replied. 

“Kris, I can drive the truck.” Asriel said, having reverted back to his lightner form. “I actually passed my driving test on my first attempt.” 

“That does mean I have to ride shotgun.” Dess interrupted. “Kris and Susie, you'll have to sit in the back with Togore and Ralsei.”

“Damnit.” Susie said. “I was about to get comfortable.

Kris nodded and exited the cab, the Soul following their lead. Asriel subsequently hopped in and configured the seat to his liking. 

“Where’s the rearview mirror?” he asked.

“Seems to be on the floor.” Dess answered, She picked it up and reattached it to the ceiling, summoning a very tiny shard to stab the plastic and fabric together into interlocking.

Dess then changed from her knight form to her normal form in order to fit in the passenger seat comfortably. Everyone else took positions in the truck’s bed.

“It’s fun having you two back here.” Ralsei said with a cute smile. Togore nodded in agreement. 

“Everyone ready?” Azzy asked, looking through the now-reattached rearview mirror. Kris gave a thumbs up.

“Alright.” The truck accelerated down the road again, this time driven by a way more qualified individual as the reunified ground team actually began their journey to California. Dess immediately turned on the radio once the truck reached a hundred miles per hour and everyone sang into the night.

Back at the mansion, Carol gave Jevil and Rouxls Kaard two Spirit Airlines tickets. “Get to San Francisco." she said. “And don’t end up on the No Fly List.”

Chapter Text

The Bergentruck was going around a hundred miles per hour when Asriel saw the “Welcome to New York” sign on the side of the Interstate. In the midst of the moonless night, the roads were desolate and two thirds of the ground team were fast asleep in the bed of the pickup. Dess was trying to stay awake bored out of her mind in the passenger seat, passing the time by fidgeting with an old mint can. The metal on the can had become lukewarm after minutes of contact with Dess’s hands, the all so familiar aroma of unique leaves leaking from an unsealed gap into the cabin.

“You know we just crossed state lines, right?” Azzy said, after glancing at the repurposed mint can with “NOT WEED” sharpied over the top. 

“I mean Azzy, that’s the least of the crimes we’ve committed.”

Asriel concentrated on the rearview mirror, having noticed a solitary car approach from the horizon behind him. In the flashes of reflecting light given by the streetlamps every once in a while, the vehicle was illuminated and pattern recognition immediately kicked in. Dark blue. One yellow stripe. Bar on the roof. Another speed limit: seventy sign that Asriel ignored flew by. The speedometer read a hundred.

The horrifying red and blue erupted from the car now just a hundred yards behind them, the flashing colors immediately kicking Dess wide awake as the first streaks registered on her retinas.

“Fuck, are those the cops?” She yelled, her quick reflex sending the can of unique leaves airborne. The incorrectly secured lid broke away as the metal tin struck the ceiling, showering the cabin in unique leaves and an aroma that would be very bad to have if you’re about to be pulled over by the Rozzers. 

“Well we can’t stop now.” Azzy replied, the familiar scent crashing into his nostrils.

A second police car materialized into existence behind the first, the duo nearing the rear bumper of the Bergentruck.

The loudspeakers mounted on the light bar were pretty, pretty loud. “PULL OVER THE VEHICLE!” It said.

“Shit, they’re gonna wake up Kris and the rest. I don’t think they’ll be pleased.” Azzy muttered.

“Hold on Azzy, I’ve got a solution.” Dess replied, a knightly aura emanating from her body. Reenergized from the unique leaves, she swiftly reached down under her seat and pulled out a bat. Using her other hand to unlock the passenger side door, she unwieldily used the bat’s tip to release the seatbelt before ejecting herself from the pickup truck, simultaneously switching to her cool ass aurafarming form.

Jevil and Rouxls Kaard were sleep deprived, having been dropped off at the domestic terminal of Boston Logan International Airport by an Uber. The redeye six hour long Spirit flight would take them to San Francisco by noon, but now the presidential and vice presidential candidates had to blindly maneuver through the process of making it through the airport without incident.

At the check in counters, Jevil immediately levitated to one of the self check in kiosks just as an actual passenger finished printing their boarding passes. Rouxls Kaard, with nothing better to do, followed Jevil in his wake.

“Hey fatass!” someone yelled from behind Jevil. “You’re cutting the line!”

Rouxls Kaard turned around to see that in fact, they had entered from the exit-only section and had just cut a few hundred people.”

“WHAT!” Jevil yelled, rotating one hundred eighty degrees slowly but ominously.

The man who had called him out was a middle aged man with short dark hair, but the most peculiar fashion choice that stood out was a hat that proudly displayed “GLORY TO THE HOLIDAY ADMINISTRATION" on it.

“Oh wait… Sorry!” the man said, recognizing Jevil from yesterday’s broadcast. I’ll let you cut me anytime, future president!” He also noticed Rouxls Kaard standing there. “Oh and you too, vice president.”

“YOU WILL GET YOUR FREEDOM.” Jevil told the man who was now on his knees praying to him, before turning back around to figure how the hell do you use the self check in kiosk.

The self check-in kiosk demanded a hundred dollar “late check in fee” before it would allow the printing of the boarding passes. Rouxls Kaard’s kredit kaard kept declining because no light world banks accepted Dark Dollars.

“Damnit Jevil, how doth we receiveth our boarding passes?”

“I CAN’T DO ANYTHING.”

“Try something else, Jevil.”

“I HAVE AN IDEA.”

Jevil summoned his Devilsknife and sent it through the machine. The screen sputtered static before the entire machine disintegrated into its component pieces. Everyone else waiting in line stared at this sudden act of destruction, but none of them fled wanting to preserve their positions in the queue. The Holiday Administration man fell on his knees and began to mindlessly worship the jester who had just committed destruction of property. Even the security guards refused to approach Jevil, all of them having heard the rumors of the sheer powers that darkners had and now seeing a demonstration. No lightner wanted to be in the path of a Devilsknife. 

In the midst of this shocking silence in an airport at peak hours, Rouxls Kaard trudged over to the former machine and sifted through the remains, until he found two boarding passes that were trapped in the dispenser. Picking the precious pieces of cardstock up, he handed one to Jevil as the two walked over to security.

Dess readied herself for the upcoming battle as she unsheathed her shining black knife weapon, charging down the highway directly at the two law enforcement units in front of her. Precisely tossing several pieces of unique leaf in front of her as she jumped out of the pickup, the materialization of her helmet trapped the green boosters between her face and her visor and gave her a temporary stat boost. The cops saw a shining flash jumpscare their POVs before all hell broke loose.

Asriel anxiously looked in the rearview mirror, witnessing her girlfriend commit several felonies at once. The last semblance of naive innocence left his body, but he continued forward. 

The first slash of her blade sent both police cruisers airborne, the shockwave cleaving the light bars, loudspeakers and antennas clean off before each vehicle recontacted the asphalt. Tempered glass panels shattered under the sudden pressure changes as both upside down cars screeched to a stop. She gracefully placed her pointed legs on the ground of the highway, having exhausted enough energy levitating and flying around. Turning a hundred eighty degrees to gaze at the two wrecks, she raised up her right hand to summon several floating swords aimed at the wrecks just in case. 

The moonlight reflecting off the knight armor and the swords, one officer who managed to climb out of the wreck unscathed managed to draw his pistol before catching a glimpse of the mysterious figure emanating an unbeatable aura. Something sharp flew too close for comfort, knocking the pistol a hundred feet away into the grasslands. Then a white streak filled his vision before it all went dark.

Dess lowered her black knife, having swooned the cop unconscious for at least an hour. She really didn’t want to kill anyone this time, as she turned right and saw the officer who had escaped from the other car charging at her with a shotgun. 

“POLICE! DROP YOUR WEAPON!” he futilely yelled, the ominous figure standing there menacing, their outline only revealed by the reflection from one of the last functional flashing lights from the wrecked cruiser.

Dess hesitated for a moment, remembering what she had done to Undyne back during that unforgettable week. However, even her armor was probably not immune to a point blank shotgun blast and she broke out of her trance and acted. Pointing at the man, one of her levitating blades shot forward at supersonic speeds, simultaneously disintegrating and yeeting the shotgun before she swung her knife around and swooned the cop unconscious. 

With both threats neutralized, Dess despawned the rest of the swords and waded through the hip-high grass fields until she contacted asphalt again. Knowing that Azzy and the rest were just ahead, she took in the last of her useful supply of unique leaves within her helmet before preparing to fly off. However, an exponentially increasing noise ruminated from a closing distance behind her which interrupted her takeoff sequence. Glancing her head around, she saw a police pickup truck with luminous red and blue and spotlights charging down the solitary road headed straight for her. She managed to draw her knife in front of her chest before they made contact.

"THIS ISN'T VERY FREE, FREE.." Jevil complained as he and Rouxls Kaard found their seats in the rear of the capacity maximized and comfort minimized Spirit Airlines A360-300. With only twenty six inches of legroom and fifteen inches of seat width, this was the first time that he felt truly claustrophobic. With his tail sandwiched between his rotund body and the seatback with barely any padding, this was going to be a long six hour flight, probably even longer than all the time he spent in the castle’s basement. 

“I hest yond a duke and vice presidential candidate liketh me require m're legroom!” Rouxls Kaard whined to a flight attendant who didn’t give two shits. Rouxls Kaard did not get his special legroom upgrade.
Rouxls Kaard sat in the middle seat of this utilitarian row, Jevil’s flesh pressing into his left armrest. Rouxls’s knees already started to hurt after just a couple minutes of being squashed into the hard plastic seatback in front. As it turns out, John Holiday Simp was their seatmate, sitting in the aisle seat. John Holiday Simp had graciously offered Rouxls the right armrest and some of his legroom space as long as they promised they would bring him an autograph from Speaker Holiday.

The mood lighting dimmed as the jet taxied to the runway, many exhausted passengers immediately falling asleep and many more pleading to their brains to fall asleep. Jevil and Rouxls, both stayed awake long enough to stare out Jevil’s window, attempting to gaze at any dot that penetrated through the pitch black sea below. Somehow, they managed to fall asleep soon after.

Chapter Text

President Patrick was on Air Force One, exhausted after hours of fervent trade negotiations with Prime Minister of Canada Craig Colon in Seattle. With his eyes barely open enough and the last remnants of his conscious state running on the last caffeine reserves he possessed, he still had to attend an emergency cabinet meeting with John Poll and Representative Mangione on the increasingly perilous game against Speaker Holiday’s master plan.

“It’s not looking good.” John Poll started as he connected to the encrypted virtual call. “Our least optimistic trends seem to be the most accurate one, as over the past night general sentiment has shifted Republican, especially with younger generations, neurodivergent people and monsters.”

“Externally and internally.” Representative Mangione added on. “Intercepted chatter predicts that at least three Democratic house reps who are a part of the Zalphanist Congressional Coalition have terms to cross the floor to the Republicans. Combined with your faltering in the polls, Speaker Holiday’s got you on a leash.”

The continuous barrage of turbulent and pessimistic statistics from his party’s best withered down Patrick’s confidence. Could America truly repeat history, less than a decade after suffering the disastrous consequences of a trifecta headed by a lunatic? Surely Jevil may not be a convicted felon, but the CIA’s Dark World division did highlight his mental instabilities and proneness to using ranged violence when the file was put on Patrick’s desk. And Rouxls Kaard seemed even more of a wild card, but Carol Holiday is a smart lady. Whatever vision of a Holiday Administration she was planning, there was a reason she had seemingly shot herself in the hoof by not running for president. 

“Republican presidential candidates seem to have a bad reputation for suffering sudden incapacitations…” Patrick thought, reminiscing back to the moment three and a half years ago when he was notified that the authorities found Jimmy Donaldson's corpse in an unexplainable grayed out state in the back alley of an abandoned apartment complex on the eve of election night. The autopsy revealed more questions than answers, and despite the revelation of the existence of the Dark World and how the small village of Hometown Massachusetts became a global sensation overnight, the links could not be credibly linked. “Maybe Carol got rid of him s-” Patrick reflexively facepalmed, surprising everyone in the video call. Regaining his situation awareness, it seemed like he had dazed off again, this time in front of observers. 

After a not so freeing sleep, Jevil and Rouxls Kaard arrived in San Francisco just as the sun was directly overhead. Exiting the arrivals terminal to be blasted by sunlight, the duo immediately began to overheat as they were still used to the coolness of the Dark World. They had to resort to metaphorical parkour, maximizing the amount of time they spent in the shade and minimizing the time they were out in the heat as they navigated their way to the BART station just adjacent to the airport.

As usual, the Clipper Card machine that they were told to purchase the transit tickets from rejected Rouxls Kaard’s Kredit Kaard.

“Damn it.”

Jevil may have committed several crimes since his arrival into the Light World, but he was no fare jumper. Speaker Holiday’s orders set in concrete however: Make it to Union Square by three pm for their first major rally. It was currently 2:28 pm, and they still had to deal with public transit.

Rouxls Kaard continued to struggle with the task presented beforehand. “I bethink not we're making it to Carol's destination,” he muttered after the Kredit Kaard did not register for the umpteenth time.

“Hey! You two weird… cosplayers or whatever!” someone yelled from across the platform.

Jevil rotated a hundred and eighty degrees around to face the disruption. Rouxls Kaard reflexively covered the PIN pad with his other hand for security reasons, despite the Kredit Kaard not even reading. A dude was there, gesturing towards the gates into the train station.

“You know that Vice President Mamdani made all public transportation free federally like 3 years ago right? What time are you living in… 2031?” the dude asked. He then prominently displayed himself walking to the fare gates and them opening up automatically. 

“THE TRAIN IS… FREE? FREE?” Jevil replied just as the plastic gates closed behind the dude.

“I didst not expecteth the lighteth w'rld to be freer.” Rouxls Kaard muttered. He turned around to retrieve his Kredit Kaard and realized that the machine had been powered off all along, a relic of a past America where people had to pay to travel without a car.

“Am I… stupid?”

Jevil immediately went to the fare gates, Rouxls Kaard tailing behind the floating jester. The plastic doors swung open to let Jevil through, however Rouxls Kaard ignored the warning signs and gates closed upon Kaard’s face.

“Owie.”

“YOU SHOULD… WAIT YOUR TURN.”

The detectors started to beep red. Seemingly having pissed off the gate, Kaard had to use one of the other gates. However, none of the other doors would bulge.

Rouxls Kaard however, had a solution. Darkners in the light world, following Gaster giving all of them freedom, could exist in their Darkner forms but could also voluntarily revert to and from their lightner counterparts. So Rouxls Kaard vanished with a small rectangle of cardstock in his place. A lucky breeze pushed the card airborne, just so it… wait he’s going in the other direction. The breeze intensified further.

“JEVIL! HELP ME!”

Jevil turned over, immediately levi-jumped over the fare gates and floated midair before just managing to grasp the rules card before it flew out of the platform and onto the highway. 

“Thanks mateth,” Kaard said after reverting to his original form and actually managing to make it through the fare gates, they were now on the actual train platform, the concrete labyrinth cooled them down which was relieving.

“ANYTHING TO MAKE YOU FREE.” Jevil replied

Then the train doors closed. Their feet were still on cement.

“DAMN IT.”

The rally in San Francisco, the first official event on the Jevil-Kaard 2036 presidential campaign, was already packed with fans as many awaited the appearance of the Darkners. Holiday’s pick to kickstart the electoral marathon in a deeply blue state baffled political analysts and the Democratic campaign committee. Many were saying that it was a lost cause, but the event was twenty minutes from starting and tens of thousands of people were already packed into the confined streets, wielding homemade signs, hats and handing out water to each other. Hundreds of “GLORY TO THE HOLIDAY ADMINISTRATION" hats could be seen, along with many signs made from varying materials and effort that had some variation of “WE CAN DO ANYTHING” and “ROUXLS KAARD MARRY ME” on them.

Jevil and Rouxls Kaard finally emerged from the BART station after an extended wait, just to immediately encounter an immovable wall of fans right at the exitway. The empty stage however, plastered in slogans of populist rhetoric and quotes from Speaker Holiday was just a hundred meters away.

“It’s been twenty minutes already.” one of them muttered. “Hopefully someone didn’t shoot them on the way.”

“How do weth get to the stageth?” Rouxls Kaard asked the closest bystander.

“You need to a- HOLY SHIT IT’S YOU!” the fan muttered. Dozens of others turned around at this commotion breaking this silence to see a lost Rouxls Kaard with a floating Jevil behind them.

“THEY’RE HERE!”

“MARRY ME!”

“BRING OUR SAVIORS TO THE STAGE!”

The really hot duke was immediately grabbed simultaneously by several fanatics as they initiated a crowdsurf. Others immediately lowered their signs and raised up their arms to help in the operation, ragdoll Kaard and Jevil feeling dozens of hands on their backs.

Thousands cheered as the two popular figures were collectively carried to the stage where they were dropped off. 

“Now what?” Kaard confusingly asked Jevil. He did a quick visual sweep and noticed that no one else other than fans were in sight , not even campaign staff, security or anyone they knew.

“WE DO WHAT WE DO BEST.” Jevil replied, before floating up to the podium and beginning to scream his ramblings to a cheering crowd.

“UEE HEE HEE, CITIZENS OF ‘MURICA, I THANK YOU ALL FOR PLAYING THIS GAME! THIS GAME IS SIMPLE: IF I BECOME PRESIDENT, YOU ALL WIN. IF PATRICK WINS, YOU ALL LOSE AND ALL YOUR HP DROPS TO ZERO!!!”

A round of applause. The sheer amount of energy can be collectively felt.

“CHAOS, CHAOS WILL BRING FREEDOM!!! ‘MURICA WILL BE FREE, FREE! THIS GAME IS SO EXCITING!”

The cheering is deafening at this rate. Tinnitus cases in San Francisco will spike five hundred percent in the following days.  

“WE MUST BREAK FREE FROM THE DEMOCRATIC PRISON! WANT TO WIN THE GAME? VOTE FOR ME and Rouxls Kaard IN NOVEMBER! CITIZENS, JOIN THE JEVIL CLUB FOR A FREE FREE MURICA!”

Jevil rotated downwards ninety degrees to thank the audience as the cheering continued shattering records for more enthusiastic political engagement. Traditional analysts were taken aback and speechless seeing Holiday’s chaotic gamble yield favorable results. Fox News, which was now run by foxes, commented positively on the first minutes of this campaign. Tenna, on Mr Ant Tenna’s TV Time threw his full support for Jevil-Kaard as viewership spiked into the tens of millions.

“Jevil has showed us a spectacular performance in San Francisco today! Just look at that Fun-O-Meter!” Tenna announced on the set of his popular TV show. “And for very good reason too, I think the clown’s fit for the presidency, unlike… MIKE!!! Show them what we have in America right now!”

An edit comparing Matthew Patrick to Spamton and Zohran Mamdani to a Labubu filled up the screen beside Tenna. Laughtrack.ogg subsequently played as Tenna raised both his hands up with the sheer Cinema that was presented. 

“Surely Jevil and Rouxls Kaard can be better than these two whose looks have been rejected by the Censors… Seems like them and our favorites are going to be facing off against each other for a four month long PHYSICAL CHALLENGE, and I’ll be covering every step of their journey only on Mr Ant Tenna’s TV TIME!!”

The cheering finally died down after ten minutes. It was Rouxls Kaard’s turn to speak. He walked over to the podium as many began to feverishly wave their “MARRY ME ROUXLS KAARD” signs at the really hot Duke. 

“Mine fans... I ame proude to beth the viceth presidental candidateth fore-”

Rouxls Kaard felt something coming his way. Something small, fast and metal. His instinctive reflexes kicking in from his journey in the Dark World, he immediately struck a seductive pose, the fans swayed by his spontaneous style with the bullet crashing through where he was just a millisecond earlier. Some fans went from being flushed to screaming as the projectile struck the neck of the life-sized Rouxls Kaard cardboard cutout behind the actual RK, decapitating it in one swift instant.

Rouxls Kaard stood up again, noticing the bullet that was meant for him. But Darkners are built differently.

“Our enemy shalt not silence mine genius!” He yelled into the microphone as his senses detected another incoming quicktime event. He did another cool pose, romantically swooning half the viewership as the second bullet blew up a loudspeaker.

More and more quicktime events were summoned as the assassin(s) became frustrated. “I SHALL NOT BE-” twerking for a second as the bullet ricocheted off a spotlight and cleaved Kaard’s microphone- “CHARLIE KIRKED!”

This shit was like a rhythm game. The stage was gradually damaged as equipment, electronics, banners and girders had holes appear in them or break. Many in the crowd began to panic, distancing themselves away from the stage but continuing to throw their support in any way possible.

“DAMN-” another cardboard cutout incapacitated- “IT-” banner cut in half- “WHERE IS-” someone’s MARRY ME ROUXLS KAARD sign got caught in the crossfire “SECURITY???” 

Meanwhile Jevil was dancing around in the air, many lasers appearing on his forehead but the bullets seemingly phasing through his body. “I CAN DO ANYTHING! UEE HEE HEE!” Jevil yelled, before summoning a dozen Devilsknives and launching them at elevated positions all across the designated rally space. “YOUR HP WILL HIT ZERO!” he yelled as every scythe hit home in a blazing crash of metal, cement and human flesh. 

The quicktime events stopped for an exhausted Rouxls and he could finally regain his balance, but the stage was damaged beyond repair. However, the crowd immediately switched directions once it was clear that the hundreds of assassination attempts had failed to eliminate them.

“Well now whatst?” 

“I UHHH… DON’T KNOW. CAROL DIDN’T GIVE US GOOD INSTRUCTIONS. THE LAST THING ON HERE SAID UP RIGHT DOWN DOWN DOW-.”

Something suddenly crash landed on the stage just in front of Jevil and RK with a very loud splat. It was white and fluffy and had a green shirt on. He pried himself off the floor and looked at Rouxls Kaard and Jevil. The crowd immediately turned silent, many lowering their signs to maximize the amount of people who could see what the new arrival was.

“Togore? Howst did thou get here?”

Togore stared at RK with a gaze that translated to “Let’s not talk about that.”

Togore then faced towards the crowd, standing there silently as thousands eyed him physically and millions more on TV. 

“Togore ‘tastic!” he said as he broke the silence with his signature moves, rocking his arms back and forth.

The crowd was confused for a few seconds but immediately joined in, delightfully singing along while dancing in sync.

“Togore ‘tastic! Togore ‘tastic! Togore ‘tastic!”

“Doth we join in or whatst?” Rouxls Kaard turned to Jevil. All the attention was now on Togore and they were just bystanders in this sudden revolution.

“YES YES.”

Chapter Text

Zohran Mamdani was back in New York City, the bastion of his previous mayorship, after taking Amtrak’s new actual high speed rail after a meeting with the Pennsylvania state governor. This was the first completed HSR corridor of many set up by the administration’s new no bullshit infrastructure targets, but Carol’s dominance of the house and senate had deadlocked further implementation, especially in the Great Lakes region. 

Walking down a familiar, bike lane and pedestrian friendly street after grabbing a delectable plate from a closeby Halal food cart, Mamdani was a block away from the bus stop when suddenly a strong force latched onto his right shoulder. At the entryway to the sketchiest and dankiest alleyway in the city, this was the perfect place to discreetly delete someone from existence. Mamdani tried to scream out, but a telekinetic force grabbed onto his mouth and restrained his vocal cords. There was no other human in sight. The steaming hot takeout container of halal fell out of his grasp and splattered on the concrete sidewalk; rice, meat and white sauce tragically wasted as the Vice President of the United States was nabbed away from prying eyes in just three seconds.

All Mamdani could see was the light from the street becoming further and further away. The alleyway immediately turned dark as he felt the hand and the telekinetic forces on him bank rightwards as the line of sky became obscured by a utilitarian ceiling. Suddenly, black smoke was rushing out from their destination and was obscuring his vision and entering his lungs. He thought it was toxic at first and panicked in the telekinetic restraints, but once he circulated the smoke once it reminded him of cooled air and a hint of mint, and he wasn’t suffocating. Then they abruptly turned again as the last of the visible corridor obscured away and finally, the sound of a heavy metal door slamming shut behind them and then pure darkness.

The expanse of the void seemed to be endless. Mamdani had been blindly trotting along in the darkness. He probably would’ve walked out of New York City at this point, but his hunger seemed to inexplicably vanish, even if he didn’t snack on that plate of Halal he was so looking forward to. The Dark World had mysterious properties and possible traits that America could exploit for a geopolitical or economic advantage, however most issues the voter base were concerned about were more about issues such as the cost of living and the economy but thankfully not culture war bullshit.

“Hello? Anyone there?” Mamdani yelled, feeling desperate enough to blatantly reveal his position in this void. No echo at all. He tried again. Nothing. Nothing at all.

In the periphery of his vision, he noticed a point in the distance that was one degree lighter than the blinding fog of darkness surrounding the expanse. Seeing it as the only window to escape from this nightmare, he reflexively began to sprint towards it, not maintaining more than a slight jog due to the inflexibility of whatever metal outfit he was wearing. The sounds of panels clanking against each other at his joints disrupted the silence he had been familiar with for hours as the point grew bigger and bigger in diameter. He was getting closer, as the dark aura surrounding him dissipated slightly but noticeably.

Mamdani woke up. He didn’t know how much time had passed but was definitely sitting on some impossibly flat undefinable surface. Visibility was nigh impossible, and that aura of darkness emanating from all sides still emitted that unexplainable refreshness on his skin and in his respiratory system. However, he did feel like he was wearing a completely different, more cumbersome outfit that felt heavier on him. A nagging thought from a line muttered during briefing years ago from the CIA’s Dark World division said something about the outfits and skin and hair colors changing drastically when one entered the Dark World.

“I’m assuming I’m in the Dark World then?” he thought.

Mamdani began to move his joints around, which ached from the newfound weight from this obscured outfit. He definitely felt like at least a decent portion of it was made from metal, though. Standing up as the revolving clouds of darkness continued to transfer coolness onto his exterior, he began to trot around the area in ever increasing circles, although in the dark it was probably more like the pathway of a toddler’s scribble.

The expanse of the void seemed to be endless. Mamdani had been blindly trotting along in the darkness. He probably would’ve walked out of New York City at this point, but his hunger seemed to inexplicably vanish, even if he didn’t snack on that plate of Halal he was so looking forward to. The Dark World had mysterious properties and possible traits that America could exploit for a geopolitical or economic advantage, however most issues the voter base were concerned about were more about issues such as the cost of living and the economy but thankfully not culture war bullshit.

“Hello? Anyone there?” Mamdani yelled, feeling desperate enough to blatantly reveal his position in this void. No echo at all. He tried again. Nothing. Nothing at all.

In the periphery of his vision, he noticed a point in the distance that was one degree lighter than the blinding fog of darkness surrounding the expanse. Seeing it as the only window to escape from this nightmare, he reflexively began to sprint towards it, not maintaining more than a slight jog due to the inflexibility of whatever metal outfit he was wearing. The sounds of panels clanking against each other at his joints disrupted the silence he had been familiar with for hours as the point grew bigger and bigger in diameter. He was getting closer, as the dark aura surrounding him dissipated slightly but noticeably.

“This is not halal at all.” he muttered, as the light grew ever brighter. Whatever the end result was, it was better than being eternally trapped in the darkness. Hell, he even preferred the sewers of New York City to this. 

He finally saw some object in the fog ahead of him. A wall… and a human-sized opening in the wall just directly ahead. He sprinted the last fifty meters or so, any heat generated from exercise immediately whipped away by the fog’s mysterious cooling properties in a convection manner. 

He entered the doorway, the slight dim of the walls immediately disappearing and a return back to visible darkness. Seems like this next… chamber? Was as equally non-euclidean as the last. However, he could feel the fog receding, which was progress. Then a new effect, seemingly omnipresent across this entire realm, stopped him in his tracks.

Although not transferred in an audible form, the feeling could be encapsulated in the words “you’re getting there.” Mamdani blinked twice to refocus his vision, and just ten meters in front of him, an orange door was now in existence. A sense of relief washed over him as now there was finally an elephant in the room he could address. Carefully walking forward while blinking intensely to make sure it wasn’t a hallucination, the door was devoid of depth or any sort of texture, but it definitely felt like the object was there. 

The mysterious aura was culminating at this entrance, so he did the only rational choice and put his hand on the doorknob. There was definitely a collider object there, but his fingers could not infer whether the sphere was made out. Anyways, at least it felt physical. He twisted it and the door creaked, automatically swinging open. The wall, ceiling, or was it a skybox of what was inside was still pure black minus the aura, but there was finally a visible floor, seemingly light gray and as textureless as the door in nature. Mamdani took a deep breath and walked in, the hairs on his rear sensing both the door and the darkness of the previous room vanishing behind him. 

The gray pathway extended forwards for around a hundred meters or so. He calmly walked forward, half of his consciousness already giving up on a chance of returning to reality, until he came to the end of this path. The dead end consisted of a gray rectangle on the ground ten meters deep and fifteen meters wide. He did not even think of even trying to put one of his feet off the gray refuge. Then the man appeared, the diegetic sound coinciding with his appearance jumpscaring Mamdani and nearly knocking him off the edge of the gray rectangle. Mamdani turned around at the origin of the sound after recovering his balance. The man seemed… all too familiar.

“VERY VERY INTERE-”

“Your fucking forehead is larger than Andrew Cuomo’s.” Mamdani snapped, throwing his armored arm out at the figure in an accusatory way.

Chapter Text

“DON’T BE SO RUDE.” the all-too-familiar figure spoke, the white armless hands with holes in the palms rising from his front and gesturing at visibly angry Mamdani.

“Is this some sort of prank?” Mamdani yelled. He could feel the raging heat emitting from his body begin to overcome the chillness of the darkness.

“NO-”

“No wonder you don’t know how the world works! You probably haven’t gone outside in decades with that pale ass skin!” After yelling that at the bald man, Mamdani immediately remembered what nagged about the appearance of this man, other than the fact that he looked ugly as fuck. His skin was extremely light colored, and his eyes and mouth were devoid of organic function and filled with dark substance. “Jimmy Donaldson… his corpse looked eerily similar to this guy…” Mamdani thought as he made the connection. A part of his brain realized the uneasing relation between the figure and the incident three years ago, but rage overpowered as he was interrupted by the other’s reply.

“I SPEAK IN HANDS. I CAN ALSO THROW HANDS.” Specks of light emerged from his furrowing void-filled eyeballs as his armless floaters clenched up into reinforced fists, prime for some smacking.

“I’M GOING TO RIP YOUR FUCKING DING OFF!” the Vice President yelled, furiously accepting the invitation to duel in the heat of the moment despite a complete lack of formal combat expertise. “THEN SHOVE YOUR SMALL THING RIGHT DOWN YOUR DARK BOTTOMLESS TRASH RECEPTABLE OF A MOUTH!” he yelled, leaping straight towards the figure and preparing to clock him straight between the eyes.

A familiar ambience consisting of four notes on loop began to emanate omnidirectionally from the surrounding darkness.

The air crackled with freedom.

The battle had been initiated.

The man immediately dodged Mamdani’s first attack, motionlessly shifting to the left by two meters as Mamdani’s fists punched air before he crashed back onto the gray textureless surface. Despite its lack of visible features, the surface felt like a less grippy variant of rubber playground surfacing as he slid to a stop, his armor’s squishy internals cushioning the blow as he immediately flipped over, palms down to provide the support to stand back up.

“You can fucking teleport?” Mamdani screeched, as he noticed the other figure hadn’t moved at all but unnaturally rotated as if his feet were on a turntable to stare at the downed warrior. Any resemblance of the positively-populist-politician-that-one-could-easily-have-a-normal-conversation-with that he naturally put on when in the light world had faded away.

He nodded, the white head shifting around as those specks of light in his eyeholes appeared for just another second. “YES. IT’S VERY, VERY INTERESTING THAT YOU THINK YOU CAN JUST PUNCH ME. I SHAPED THIS WORLD. I CAN ALSO CONTROL IT.” 

Mamdani recovered his pose but saw the man’s two hands fly towards him. The first one impacted directly through his midsection but phased directly through it without any interaction with his body. Mamdani looked down, bewildered before the second hand clocked him in the shoulder blade. The impact sent him flying backwards towards the edge of the gray rectangle, he heard some familiar sound effect as a “23” appeared next to him for just a second. Crashing down onto the surface again, he slid back and his right hand felt the edge and subsequently nothing beyond it, reflexively sending a panic through his body as Mamdani realized that the battlefield was this claustrophobic. The white hands flew over his head as they returned to the man as if they were boomerangs.

“SEE?” The man taunted him again, passing the time that it took Mamdani to recover by gesturing profanities at the former mayor.

His shoulder ached but the metal-esque plating had absorbed most of the blow. However, he realized that he needed more firepower if he didn’t want to be pummeled by this ugly… scientist. What could he use… that wooden fork that came with his precious Halal that he so dearly missed? It was in his left pocket on his suit back in the aboveground, but…

He got a grasp on the fork, wedged between the slits of his armor and drew his melee weapon with one swift sweep.

“WOW. I WAS NOT EXPECTING YOU TO HAVE THAT.” The doctor muttered out of his mask as he slowly translated away from Mamdani’s new trump card, pointing his palms toward Mamdani as if he were surrendering. 

“What?” Mamdani thought as he realized that through the adrenaline he had ignored the newfound weight in his right hand. A bronze trident, glistening against the darkness with three razor sharp prongs pointing upwards and elements of New York City embossed within the handle.

“So this used to be my wooden fork huh?” Mamdani jokingly muttered to cope with the sheer confusion of what he had found himself in.

“YES. IN THE DARK WORLD, OBJECTS TAKE ON DIFFERENT FORMS BASED OFF OF THEIR PHYSICAL CONTEXTS. IT'S VERY INTERESTING, ISN’T IT?”

“It is,” he reluctantly replied. “The CIA never told me this.”

With his opponent who seemingly outranked him in both experience and control of their battleground giving him a window to strike, Mamdani took the chance, instantaneously securing his left hand on the handle and surging forward. For some unexplainable reason, he felt extremely experienced with how to use a trident in combat, a supernatural phenomena seemingly downloading the skill blocks required into his brain the moment he pulled out the fork.

The doctor dodged at the last second again, but Mamdani had learned from his past mistakes and landed back on the ground, moving his trident around to stabilize his center of gravity. His soles touched the ground without any sound as he slid to a stop, immediately leaping around to see the man behind him.

“YOU’RE GETTING BETTER.”

“Thanks, I guess? I feel like I’m supposed to insult you considering what you’ve done to me.”

“INTERESTING YOU HAVEN’T SUCCUMBED YET. THIS NEXT EXPERIMENT WILL BE EVEN MORE INTERESTING.”

The diegetic soundtrack amplified tenfold as the doctor gave Mamdani no more mercy, suddenly charging at Mamdani with his floating fists flying forward. He was caught off guard as he reflexively drew his trident in front of his body, the supernatural phenomena aiding his movements as he spun the trident around like a propeller. The powerful fists ricocheted off the copper prongs, saving Mamdani from a smacking although the force transferred was great enough that the trident was pushed backwards and transferring overwhelming loads of pressure to his arms’ muscles.

The fists returned to the doctor as the Vice President lowered his trident, transferring the weight to one arm while shaking out the other, trying to reduce the aching from defending against that fist barrage.

“YOU. RUINED. MY. LIFE.” The man said, any tone of a playful duel evaporating away as the smile turned to a frown. Mamdani reorientated the trident in a defensive position as he saw the man point angrily at him.

“What?” Mamdani confusingly replied. “I have never met you before.”

“WELL AT LEAST YOUR BOSS DID. THAT FUCKING SHITHEAD. HE’S BEEN RUINING MY MASTER PLANS FOR TWENTY YEARS, LOOKING WHERE HE SHOULDN’T BE EVER SINCE THE START.” The head twitched around and those white specks in his eyeholes glowed ominously.

Mamdani stepped backwards a couple steps, getting dangerously close to the edge. “M… Matthew Patrick? He definitely was investigative, but I don’t thi-”

“HIS SHITTY GAME THEORY SLOP WAS THE FIRST SETBACK. THEN I REBOUNDED. I SPENT ALL MY HOURS BUILDING UP A SECRET PLAN FOR DECADES. BUT JUST AS EVERYTHING WAS SLIDING INTO PLACE, IT ALL FUCKING FELL APART.”

Mamdani exhaled and raised his palms, trying to defuse this husk of someone who definitely used to be glorious. “Firstly, calm down, whoever you are. It’s not that deep. Secondly, the Roaring in Hometown, Massachusetts? I can definitively say with unapologetic truth that the Patrick Administration has had zero involvement in the events of what occurred there-” 

The Vice President’s statement was cut off by a razor sharp fist that suddenly zoomed by like a bullet between his face and his bronze trident’s pointy part, taking several strands of his beard with it. “SHUT UP. MY NAME IS W.D. GASTER, THE ROYAL SCIENTIST. AND-”

“Oh, you’re that figure that Kris Dreemurr bribed with a pie, if the transcripts from the- oh wait that’s classified.” Mamdani caught himself with a cough, recalibrating his composure to prepare himself for what could happen next.

“SHUT UP.” The white circles in his eyeholes doubled in diameter, his mouth gaping wide as cracks began to form in his mask.

The Vice President thought out his next moves in his mind. So this Gaster figure huh, once the mastermind of the Dark World or something like that, now just a desolate husk lost in the darkness. He seemed to want to return to some former glory… Honestly he felt kinda bad for him. Then the other part of his brain cordoned out the Stockholm Syndrome, reassuring that this dude had just kidnapped him into some sort of alternate reality. He seemed unstable, maybe he could trick him into getting out of her-

“AND I USED TO BE GLORIOUS. I WAS MYSTERIOUS, ALWAYS IN THE SHADOWS, MY ANTICS HAVING BAFFLED AN ENTIRE GENERATION. FROM MY VIEW, I WAS GOD. THIS WAS THE START OF SOMETHING VERY, VERY INTER… Gaster began dumping his villain origin speech type monologue. Needless to say, it was incredibly boring. Mamdani first stood there, trident drawn, moving just a bit as if in an idle animation when a player was AFKing in a battle. “I EVEN OUTJERKED THAT DEVIOUS TRICKY TONY, WHO THOUGHT HE HAD A GRASP ON WHAT I COULD DO. WHAT HE DIDN’T KNOW, WAS…” He had the physical prowess to continue doing this for hours, but mentally he was exhausted as the anxieties of the probable impacts of his unexplained disappearance filled in the blanks to generate internal stimulation. Mamdani kept his calm external composure, but he began biting down really hard on his lip. 

“I WAS THERE. BUT AND LAST, WAS THE GAME THEORIST. AT LAST, THE GAME THEORIST…

He couldn’t take it anymore.

“Will you… fucking… shut up.” Mamdani interrupted, head tilted down as he used the trident as leverage. “No wonder you failed as a royal scientist, the only thing you used your hands for was masturbation. You pale ass motherfucker with a big ass bald forehead. The only reason you fell into the CORE was because you were too reckless going at it with your small Ding. Go outside to the REAL world and go touch some fucking grass.” He pointed the bronze trident at the royal scientist with clear hostile intent, the light reflecting sharpened prongs blinding Gaster’s eyes for a split second.

“SEEMS LIKE YOUR FACADE HAS FALLEN, IT WAS NICE KNOWING YOU, MAMDANI.” Gaster’s white pulis dilated even further as his eyeholes and mouth gaped open, a slight smirk emerging. 

“Political violence has no place in our country. But according to your dull ass monologue, we’re not in America. Bring it on, the Man Who Speaks in Hands.” Mamdani reached back and drew the trident forward in one swoop, challenging the scientist to one last duel.

Gaster’s smile turned into a grin as he took one of his hands, palm pointing upwards and made a lifting motion. Suddenly, the battleground vibrated with the strength of a magnitude six earthquake, Mamdani lost his balance as the gray rectangle that served as this dimension’s only physical object evaporated into subatomic particles. Then he fell… falling… Looking up as he spent all of his energy keeping the trident in his grasp, he saw Gaster levitating as he descended to match Mamdani’s plunge, seemingly riding an invisible elevator. Matching his velocity and acceleration as he plummeted into further layers of darkness, Gaster winked once at Mamdani’s bewildered face before the two made landfall.

Although the unseeable material that spanned this superflat dimension negated most of his fall damage, the force still transmitted through his armor and into his muscles. His whole body aching again, he used the trident as leverage to stand back up.

“I need to heal.” Mamdani thought. A subconscious urge reminded him to check his rear pants pocket. In the light world, he remembered he stuffed a half-eaten bag of Herr's sour cream and onion chips in there. Hand rushing backwards, he found the bag and pulled it out. It was sealed, as if it were brand new. With Gaster rapidly approaching, he didn’t have any time to waste and swallowed the bag whole, wrapper included. The wrapper and its contents immediately dissolved as it contacted his saliva, a green aura emanating from him as the text “MAX” appeared above him for just a second. All the hurting immediately ceased as the Royal Scientist stopped ten meters away from where he was standing.

“YOUR CORPSE WILL PROVE VERY, VERY INTERESTING TO THE CORONER. JUST LIKE DONALDSON’S.” Gaster remarked, the diegetic soundtrack’s volume increasing tenfold to emphasize his leitmotif as four skull-shaped blasters descended from above.

Mamdani may not be that much of a gamer, but he knew enough to signify that he was probably going to have a bad time. There was no place to dodge, as he heard the fateful sound of those Gaster Blasters charging up to unleash a beam of pure obliteration. The last thing he did was uselessly position his trident in front of his body, hopefully absorbing as much of the destructive energy as it could.

Mamdani felt defeated. But deep within his internals, something emerged. He had racked up enough tension points to use his ultimate ability which conveniently could parry any attack that would oneshot him. His subconscious decided this would be the best time to use it, and with all the mental safeguards lifted, all of the tension released from him as it was converted the Vice President of the United States’ saving grace.

A MTA bus barreling in at sixty miles per hour leaped out of a spontaneously generated portal, charging at the opening between an overzealous Gaster and a pessimistic Mamdani. The vehicle made it just in time, blocking the clear path of the Gaster Blasters just as the quartet began spewing pure energy. The MTA bus took the brunt of the impact, tempered windows shattering and metal supports sublimating against the barrage of energy. However, the bus proved strong enough to parry the final attack, turning the beams one hundred eighty degrees and back to Gaster.

Gaster was knocked back, the four blasters disappearing from view as he lost control. The first thing Mamdani saw was the charred mask as the bus passed by and disappeared through another portal, unable to take in at what deus ex machina had just occurred but taking the opportunity to cement his victory in this awkward duel. 

“WHAT. THE. FUCK.” A damaged Gaster muttered as his back made contact with the ground, gasping for any vocal energy as his chronic back pain reignited. 

Mamdani stepped forward, powerfully wielding his trident with all his confidence restored. “The benefits of having FREE public transportation is that America unlocks pathways to FREEDOM previously unheard of.” The diegetic soundtrack synced up with Mamdani’s statement, the all so familiar motif hitting poetically.

“I. CONCEDE.” Gaster raised his palms, finally surrendering. “I’M SORRY FOR WHAT I’VE DONE.” What seemed to be teardrops made from some dark viscous fluid started leaking from his eyeholes.

“Don’t worry, Gaster. Redemption is possible.” Mamdani stowed the trident away as he reached out for Gaster. 

“I… THERE’S ONE MORE THING I FORGOT TO TELL YOU. I WISH I WAS, BUT I’M NOT DOING THIS FOR MY OWN GAIN.”

“...what?”

“THE ORANGE TITAN… YEARNS FOR A THIRD TERM.” Gaster said with a mysterious connotation, before suddenly vanishing.

Mamdani was fucking bewildered. Having probably been played, he brought his trident back out as he scanned the darkness.

“Zohran Mamdani. My Little Communist. I’m surprised you made it here.” Someone muttered from the dark.

The voice was all too familiar. And the stink, too.

Donald. Fucking. Trump.

Mamdani tried to push aside the catastrophic consequences of Trump’s return as he connected all the dots in his brain. Cheeto Mussolini should’ve been long dead by now. Millions witnessed his demise. But no one knew where his remains went, even the Secret Service. According to transcripts from interviews of Hometown, Massachusetts residents post-roaring, the Dark World had the ability to reincarnate the dead as long as one’s remains was close enough to a Dark Fountain. Everything else clicked together.

“Fucking Hell.” was all Mamdani said, as he mentally prepared himself and his remaining brain cells for what was to come next.

Chapter Text

“It’s unexpected… seeing you again.” Mamdani muttered, an orange glow emerging from the darkness. The heavy footsteps emphasizing the fallen dictator’s obesity reverberated across the darkness, seemingly overcoming the previously immobile properties of the surface. Out from the fog emerged a horizontally tall man with that artificial corn husk hair and a glossy orange spray. Despite the Dark World typically being good at character designing a Lightner’s dark world forms, whatever supernatural fashion designer seemingly resigned when the prompt for a Darkner Trump appeared on its desk. 

Trump waltzed forward, each footstep causing an earthquake as Mamdani felt increasingly bewildered. Expecting the worst, he swiftly drew his trident, now impossibly masterful with the weapon that he met a few minutes earlier. 

“I’ll have to keep the wooden fork as close to me as my phone for the foreseeable future.” he thought. 

That claim was immediately supported as a salvo of boomerang-shaped red projectiles suddenly shot out from Trump’s direction, catching him off guard. Mamdani’s reflexes immediately kicked in as he threw the trident forward. Simultaneously sweeping his hands in a clockwise direction, Mamdani spun the trident around as each cycle perfectly parried each of the projectiles.

“It’s not that easy trying to retake America a third time.” Mamdani stated, before Trump bodyslammed him into the ground.

“The physical contact was totally uncalled for.” was all that Mamdani could think of as he was hopelessly caught by surprise. Losing grip of his trident as the heavy mass immobilized him, the armor thankfully absorbed most of the force, but the sheer pressure whisked away any opportunity for escape. Trump’s small but incomprehensibly strong hands then clamped onto his right arm, shattering the bone inside before spirally launching him upwards.

Mamdani felt his nerves cut off past the lower right shoulder before he completely lost his spatial orientation. The wooshing of air was all he could notice before his rear slammed into ground with seemingly Jupiter-like gravity, the diegetic effect indicating damage perforating through his eardrums as all his pain receptors flamed up. He was definitely cooked as he tried to force his senses back online, ears still ringing, body aching and sight blurry.

When he finally recovered enough to be spatially aware, he realized he couldn’t move any limb at all. In addition to the crushing damage that Trump had dealt, it seems like his hands and feet were entrapped in spontaneously crystalized heavy blocks of ice. Trump had locked in, and now Mamdani was locked in. 

“I’ve always wanted to do this back when I was in power, Brown Bernie.” Trump began his monologue, eying a trapped and defeated Zohran Mamdani. His small orange hands gestured in sync to his tumultuous improv  “I mean I did do all of those things to subdue the woke left in 2026, but I should’ve done them in my first term. Tremendous idea. All the disgusting leftists in the way of America’s destined comeback, all gone.”

Mamdani couldn’t move any part of his body at all, but he pushed himself through the omnipresent pain to not give this failed tyrant what he wanted. A death glare was all Trump received from the former mayor. 

“My master plan was tremendous. And it worked!” Trump continued, acknowledging Mamdani’s futile fury with a smug expression before going back to his monologue. “Me and my ICE buddies and Project 2025, we took all the Antifa and the Transgender and made them disappear. Forever!  Traditional christian and family values, all restored! 

Mamdani was getting really fucking bored, but he had to keep the death glare up. He had fought so hard in the latter half of the Fucking 20s to finally end Cheeto Mussolini’s fascist reign of destruction, surviving several assassination attempts and playing a pivotal role in the Second American Civil War. He was on the streets when it finally happened, genuinely celebrating with most other American citizens celebrating on the streets for weeks. Everyone said “never again.” Could history repeat itself, in just ten years instead of eighty?

“Same with the world. Some radical leftists who prop up this fraud of an illegitimate ‘International Criminal Court’ said that I was bad. Told all my enemies about a phony ‘arrest warrant,’ placed against me for doing what was right. Fake News. It was so fake, that I ordered our tremendous, tremendous Department of War to finally silence these phonies once and for all. And it was so glorious, sitting in the situation room, watching all those bombs of freedom rain down on that fake, fake courthouse and seeing all of their frauds die in a fire. I was spreading peace around the world, and I deserved a Nobel Peace Prize! Me! I’m the only one who should get that prize! Not Obama! I even encouraged that woke committee to give me one by bombing their headquarters! And they still didn’t give me one! Such tremendous frauds!”

Mamdani winced at Trump’s boasting about that paradigm moment when he ordered the bombing of the Hague and Oslo, killing hundreds of civilians. That dumbass move fractured NATO, and deteriorated international relations so much that now-President Patrick was still spending most of his time abroad trying to repair them, with much justified resistance.

Trump seems to have read Mamdani’s mind and smirked again, like an exploiter in an old Roblox game. 

“You know, you know my little islamist communist, I did overestimate how much people loved me. Tremendous mistake. Believe me Mamdani, if I had only held onto power a little longer, I could have been the one who commandeered America during the Roaring! It would have been the most glorious day in America’s history, you wouldn’t believe it, no really. I congratulated Susie and Kris tremendously before, why must that vile liberal Patrick take that chance away from me! Even though Kris turned Chinese and emo and Susie’s skin color changed drastically, at least they didn’t become any darker! Really, dark-ners should go back to where they came from!”

“I can’t believe you’re dumb enough to confuse Susie Wiles with Susie Gaster. Also, as of this moment, the only thing giving you form is the Dark Fountain that’s here somewhere. That means you, Trump, are a Darkner.” Mamdani replied, the bullshit-o-meter exceeding his tolerance. This was just really, really fucking stupid.

“Fake News!” Trump replied.

“The only thing that’s fake is your entire existence. In the real world, you’d be a pile of cheeto dust.”

“SHUT UP, YOU’RE THE GAY ASS FRAUD YOU LIBERAL!” Trump screamed as he launched unavoidable bullets at the trapped Vice President, further reducing his health points.

“Now back to my tremendous, tremendous speech. It’ll be so great, that America will finally be great once again! Although my demise was, regrettably unplanned for, I have tremendous appreciation for the royal scientist W.D. Gaster and all his work in bringing me back to life!”

“That fucking Wing Dinger.” Mamdani thought. The puzzle pieces all fell together. Now he needed a way to get the hell out of here.

“It seems like the woke radical liberal Democrats have fallen back into their typical, typical infighting. Really Mamdani, I feel bad with the shit you have to put up with sometimes. Doctor Gaster and his patriotic followers have told me that your administration is frankly, hot garbage. I applaud those three house representatives that crossed the floor to the party of common sense and traditional, Christian, family, values! I will ensure that they will be tremendously rewarded once I retake America.”

“You… wont… succeed… America… will… utterly implode if… you return…” Mamdani exhaled painfully, with energy reserves completely drained and with the only sheer fuck you energy spiting his demise.

“They always say that! They’re liars! America was so close… so close to the greatest under my tenure! And then of course you and your gang of criminals unfairly, undemocratically took this once glorious nation’s golden opportunity for prosperity away from me, for what! All because I pushed aside some certain… woke undesirables that threatened the values that so forged this nation! My master plan was tremendous!” 

Mamdani was certain the dictator had lost it. His blurry eyesight was just clear enough that he noticed the orange skin turning a couple shades redder.

“But I have another glorious plan brewing up, one that is the most tremendous in history! You think your radical communist ‘National Deshittification Strategies’ have wiped the face of MAGA off the surface of ‘Murica?”

The NDS was the first major initiative passed by the Patrick Trifecta without interference of the author’s ideology immediately after their inauguration. It was really effective at building momentum across many different areas of concern to… in two words… making the world a less shitty place. It was really popular especially for the Gen-Z/Alpha voter base and socioeconomic and environmental targets were exceeded ahead of schedule. Then the Roaring happened and the NDS was put on the backburner in many people’s minds, and now with Holiday controlling both chambers it was dead in the water. Mamdani really wanted it back because it kinda gave him the power to create fast and free buses nationwide. But as with the voterbase, there were more pressing issues just ahead of him.

“The spirit of MAGA lives on in my absence.” Trump interrupted. “They, my glorious warriors fighting for America’s freedom, have been lurking in the shadows all this time! For four years under your radical authoritarian regime, they were afraid to speak up against your tyrannical woke policies. But once, once I return to the golden oval office, we shall fix your tremendous mistakes and make America the greatest it has ever been!”

Mamdani’s middle finger energy hit an integer error following the absorption of this speech’s negative aura and crashed. It was truly over.

“It was nice knowing you, little Brown Bernie. I hope you’ll stay long enough to witness our tremendous takeover.” Trump concluded with a slight rasp from speaking for that long while dehydrated (diet coke does not hydrate you), elegantly repositioning the red “TRUMP 2036” hat obscuring his corny hair. A crippled Mamdani caught a glimpse of a 45-47-51 stitched onto the side of his hat.

“You know that in your best case scenario, Jevil will be the fifty-first president, not you.”

“Oh Jevil. That crazy freak. Keeps spouting about freedom, but the only thing he spits out is vile WOKE. And Rouxls Kaard. His skin is blue. You know what else is blue Mamdani? The Democrats. He’s a traitor to MAGA and traditional family values. That’s why I will RETAKE control of this failing country and MAKE AMERICA GREAT AGAIN, AGAIN!”

Mamdani was about to lose all determination and black out when suddenly he heard reverberations coming from a distance that was growing in magnitude. Then an orange light illuminated the darkness behind him. A blazing hot fireball whizzed just over him, the amber glow reflecting off his scuffed armor plating. The fireball hit Trump right in the sweet spot, the satisfying crunch of diegetic damage as the obese disgrace heaved over. A final profanity against some minority muttering from the Orange Titan’s mouth before he seemed to despawn. Mamdani was dumbfounded, the urge to to move around to get the hell out of here, but he was literally on his last health point with no energy at all, the plot armor nearing self destruction. His prayer was fulfilled when he felt something fluffy softly patting his neck.

The Vice President emitted a comforting green radiance for a second, the angelic MAX HP popping up above him signifying his recovery. Instantly, he felt physically empowered as he launched himself into a standing pose, startling the new arrival that leaped backwards. 

Fluffy goat. Green glasses and robe. Third hero of the prophecy. His savior was extremely recognizable even to the most out of touch boomer.

“Ralsei! Good to see you here!” Mamdani’s positive energy suddenly returned as he greeted the prince in the most cutesy way possible.

“You must be the Lightner Zohran Mamdani.” Ralsei said with a smile of relief. “Let’s get out of here.”