Silence now, Jeremy. You too, Jeremy. The single greatest film sequence in all of human history draws near again.
You couldn't see five feet in front of you through the boredom.
It was a drab haze, rising off the sea and muting everything. The colorful walls of the fortress stood tall, towering yet ineffective. What they were supposed to keep out had crept in long ago, bit by bit, replacing what was once there while still wearing its grinning face. She had tried to stop it, but there was nothing she could do. The weapons of bureaucracy were sinister, to fight them you needed to understand them, to understand them you needed to bend the knee to them. And she couldn't do that.
She was the one with the name, after all.
When it all started—to be more accurate, when it all stopped—she had pretty quickly figured out that she could thaw the bustling employees if she got close enough. But as soon as they did, they just clutched their pagers and insisted on calling the board of executives and presumably making charts of how the apocalypse would cause a 0.002% drop in sales revenue.
That's how Doctor Isabel Helga Anastasia Parvati Wondertainment V, PhD, knew that she was by herself. Save for the Jeremies.
As she walked through the otherwise-motionless halls of Wondertainment HQ, Isabel shook her head. She had done everything she could. Well, not right now, but if after she had decreed that all employees were not allowed to wear the colors white, black, grey, beige, or falun red1 and needed to tell at least two jokes every workday and it turned out that they still couldn't muster enough whimsy to even resist the ruthless grip of an all-encompassing universal force then, well, the problem clearly wasn't with her. She was only one woman!
She was only one woman.
The corgis swirling widdershins around her widderless shins shuffled out of the way as she strode toward the door to a meeting room. Through the thin corporate panels of glass framing the aperture, she could see several suited figures standing, one of them gesturing at a whiteboard. She opened the door apathetically, before gasping in horror and slamming it shut. A Jeremy whimpered. The whimper was met with a grimacing shush, in case the horrid glyph upon the wall could somehow hear them.
Isabel took a moment to recover, before cautiously opening the door once more, peeking through. It was still there.
Upon the whiteboard was projected a digital scan of a symbol, a logo boldly bearing the name "Wondertainment". But it was uncanny. Perfect, precise vectors. Only two colors. No outlines, just solid blocks. All the letters the same size. Standing at the logo's side like the menacing guard of an evil king on the throne was a bullet-pointed list of such hateful words such as "re-branding", "household name" and "mass appeal".
Isabel strode into the room, disconnected the laptop from the projector, opened the window and frisbeed the offending slab of corporate intent into the wild blue yonder. It drifted to a disappointing stop several meters outside the window.
Isabel pressed a corgi to her face to muffle a shriek of frustration.
"FFFFFFHFHHHHHHHHHHGHGGHG!!!!"
Slowly, she lowered the Jeremy, then lowered herself to the floor. One noodly arm shot up and snapped its fingers. Dozens of adorable triangular ears perked up.
"Garçon! Back to the fortress of solitude!"
With much rustling and bustling, the prone form of Isabel was burrowed under by a thick layer of Jeremies, who began trotting off with their CEO laid on their backs. Isabel dramatically splayed an arm over her face in a mock swoon.
"And stop by the freezer lab! I'll be needing the prototype."
If she had remained standing, staring out the window a few scant moments longer, she might have spotted the rusted, hulking shape approaching over the waves.
Earlier.
What to do with the toymaker?
The majority of their empire is already stained in the grey of business, but isolated pockets still exist. Chiefly among them, the namesake herself. Minimal combat ability, but with the potential to spread their childish delusions on an unacceptable scale.
Perhaps a reboot, with more mature themes and a darker tone?
…No, the company's Intellectual Properties have never cohered around a single narrative. Doing so now would place no special yoke upon their necks.
We have a proposal.
Ah, a fitting solution. So simple, we did not see it sooner.
And this limb has yet to be tested. It has not the might nor authority of the Coalition, so a feebler target for it is a wise option. And long has it hungered for this very prey.
It is decided then. Prepare for hostile takeover.
Isabel Wondertainment lounged in a plush armchair that had absorbed a king's ransom of loose change over the years, swaddled in a blanket of corgis in front of a downright excessive home theater setup. Her right hand held the soothing balm of Doctor Wondertainment's Bottomless Quantumberry Ice Cream Bucket,2 which was being busily excavated by the left.
"You see, Jeremy, thinking positive is key." She nodded sagely at the corgi curled around her neck like one of those pillows people wear on airlines. "If the passage of time has ceased, then so have any and all deadlines. Meaning that I can sit and watch Shrek 2 as many times as it takes until I feel better enough to get back to work. After all, it's obvious that I'll have to run things as a bit of a one-man show from now on, so it'd be irresponsible of me to be in anything but tip-top shape."
She briefly paused her lecture to hork ice cream.
"These are the management tips they won't teach you in business school, Jeremy. This is what the competition wastes millions trying to find out. It's why we're on top."
Jeremy wagged.
"Silence now, Jeremy. You too, Jeremy. The single greatest film sequence in all of human history draws near again."
Isabel and her furry legion grew silent, sinking into oblivious comfort.
Far below, the scene was far less peaceful as the massive, groaning shipping barge ran aground on the shores of the island headquarters. A great grey face was wrapped around the bow, glaring eyes looking forth like the sinister uncle of a Maltese luzzu boat. Groaning in metallic agony, cranes swung out over the sides and began dropping off heavy manufacturing machines and staggering figures to tend to them.
The Factory made landfall as the Fairy Godmother began to sing.
Where have all the good men gone, and where are all the gods?
Where's the streetwise Hercules to fight the rising odds?
Drills anchored themselves into the earth as hungry conveyor-belt tongues unfurled. Unfeeling Managers marched in sync through the lobby, on a course for the executive conference room. Above them, a swarm of tools like locusts fell upon the cheery purple 'W' mounted over the entrance, loosening the bolts that held it in place.
Even further above, something began to burn as it entered the earth's atmosphere.
Isn't there a white knight, upon a fiery steed?
The motionless-yet-cheery secretary at the front desk was uprooted like a tooth, and placed upon a waiting conveyor belt for processing. The last bolt on the big 'W' loosened, and the logo fell to the ground as an oily banner was draped across the lobby: UNDER NEW MANAGEMENT.
Late at night, I toss and I turn and I dream of what I need
The bloody, rusted slaves of the Factory broke into the product testing labs, to see the children there frozen mid-play. Chains snaked forwards, and the gluttonous force on the other end of them felt a satisfaction that even the grey mask dominating it could not fully stifle.
Small, so more could fit crowding the assembly lines. Little fingers that felt just right crunching between the gears. Children were its favorite material to put to use.
Soon, they would no longer remember a time when they could play.
On the shore, the great grey eyes of the barge flicked upwards as they registered a blazing light.
I need a hero!
The barge tilted and heaved as its deck buckled in the wake of the deafening impact. The entire ship had been bent into a boomerang-like shape, bow and stern lifted upwards. Waves were blasted outwards in a great bowl as the water absorbed the shock, tossing and twisting the belts and pipes that threaded out from the craft to the shore.
Cables snapped, and various anchors twisted and fell to the sand, leaving gaping wounds in the rock on soil that they had been driven into. The ironclad grip slipped.
All throughout the headquarters, the invading forces stopped and turned to face the beach. The visage of the Stern scowled across each of their faces.
I'm holding out for a hero 'til the end of the night,
The engines and assembly units of the factory-ship roared, pain gone in the face of rage. A crane swung a huge smelter like a hellish industrial wrecking ball, over three tons of hateful metal careening towards the white-armored figure in the center of the crater in the deck—
—Who caught it with one hand.
He's gotta be strong
The stranger curled their other hand into a fist, pulled back, and struck the smelter hard enough to send it flying back like a cannonball, snapping the crane off without slowing down.
And he's gotta be fast
Before the metal mass could sail out into the ocean, with a trailing jet of flame the figure was after it, leaving the deck smoldering where it had stood an instant before.
The smelter jerked to a halt as mighty hands caught the other end of the attached chain trailing after it. It quickly began moving again, this time being whirled around in a wide arc centered on the white knight, spinning furiously in midair.
And he's gotta be fresh from the fight
In keeping with the traditions of dispatching homosexual Koopa kings, the figure released the chain as the massive mace swung by, letting it fly like a meteor towards the shore. It flew straight and true, pulverizing a swathe of industrial cyborgs.
With a metal scream, the prow of the disfigured boat tore itself open into a pair of jagged jaws, hateful eyes wild above. The internal manufacturing machines were working furiously to reassemble the ship into a more lethal form. Water poured in through tears in the hull, but that no longer mattered. The craft surged forwards on cranes now acting as rigid legs, shark jaws snapping in a frenzied din of clashing metal. The smaller figure turned to meet the barreling onslaught.
I need a hero, (Hero)
I'm holding out for a hero till the morning light (Hero till the morning light)
He's gotta be sure and it's gotta be soon
And he's gotta be larger than life (Larger than life)
The tranquil potted plants of Wondertainment HQ's front lobby were totally fucking obliterated as the huge ship-shark plowed through, the figure braced against it digging in its heels with legs stretched back.
As the pair advanced like an avalanche, the mysterious figure's stance didn't so much as flinch as it was driven backwards through a wall. And another. And another. With each disastrous impact the bull rush slowed, the metal legs driving it forwards exhausting themselves against the inscrutable helmed gaze opposing it. Gradually, the charge was ground to halt with a final groan before settling. Only then did the figure move from its stance.
It raised a fist.
The first blow crumpled the once-proud prow like a soda can. The second and third blows hammered it back further, crushing all behind it. As the assault continued, the figure began to stride forwards, pummeling the behemoth back the way it had came. By the time the thing had been driven back out onto the beach, its rusty innards had ruptured out to the sides. The machines and miserable flesh-wretches scrambled madly, abandoning the hull that could not protect them from the fists clad in white.
Somewhere after midnight in my wildest fantasy
Somewhere just beyond my reach, there's someone reaching back for me
Cruel metal spikes flashed on the ends of mangled limbs, leaving thin but undeniable scratches on the armored figure's shoulder, prompting a grunt of surprise.
You are not untouchable, interloper. No matter how mighty the target, my attacks are something that must be taken seriously. You have only damned yourself to a slow death.
The Stern-masked cyborg narrowly avoided the swinging backhand, and another Manager lunged forwards at the figure's now-turned back, wicked drill-bit talons raised.
Racing on the thunder and rising with the heat
Before the attacker could make contact, the rockets affixed to the figure's back roared to life. The searing jet caught the rear cyborg dead-on, while also sending the figure hurtling forwards. The outstretched arm of the backhand became a jet-propelled lariat that caught the initial attacker clean in the face. Or rather, messily in the face given the forces involved.
It's gonna take a Superman to sweep me off my feet, yeah
The lone warrior, white armor now stained with rust-flecked blood, strode onwards onto the manufacturing floor. The machines had been expecting him, and a hail of red-hot projectiles poured out of repurposed industrial riveters. Their fire converged into a brilliant shower of sparks and smoke, no trace of the target visible outside the corona of heat and fury. As the cloud grew, the roar of the guns only increased, glowing orange streaks flashing into the smoke so closely behind each other that they blurred into a single beam of burning fury.
A comet erupted out from the fiery veil, rivets bouncing off the curved dome of its helmet and embedding themselves into the surrounding architecture. A righteous fist blew the heavy gun apart, the attached arm pockmarked with small, burning dents.
Conveyor belts rose up like fanged serpents, and scores of cyborgs hefted their weapons.
Up where the mountains meet the heavens above
Out where the lightning splits the sea
I could swear there is someone somewhere watching me
The foes came ten at a time.
You are both a fool and a madman—
—PUNCH!
Insolent thing, you will be worn down—
—WALLOP!
"Oh thank god, I can move again! Listen, I don't know what's happening, I—I just work here as an accountant, have you seen—"
—UPPERCUT!
Heavy boots clomped up the stairs to the tallest tower in the sprawling corporate compound. Their footfalls paused briefly, resting for but a moment. The damage was light, but still more than the warrior had felt in a long time.
It thought of its mission. It thought of what it stood for.
Fists clenched, and the figure redoubled its pace.
Through the wind and the chill and the rain
And the storm and the flood
A shadow was cast across the stairwell as the last twisted remains of the shipping barge, knit together into a scuttling crab-like murder machine scaled the windowed tower exterior, hateful eyes looking in through the cracked glass. The mighty propeller of the ship spun like a buzzsaw, before ramming into the stairwell.
I can feel his approach like a fire in my blood
(Like a fire in my blood, like a fire in my blood)
(Like a fire in my blood, like a fire in my blood, blood)
The executive suite shook violently, and the power abruptly winked out. Isabel sprang upwards, sending corgis careening.
"Oh, come on!"
She moped over to the television, thoroughly examined it, then smacked it several times and tried the power button.
Nothing happened.
"Jeremy, the universe is conspiring against me."
Isabel's tirade was cut short by a heavy pounding on the door. The Jeremies swiftly turned as one to face the noise, several of them growling with the barely-contained wrath that only small dogs are capable of.
WHAM
WHAM
The doorframe splintered, hinges failing.
WHAM!
A figure coated in smoldering metal and gore stomped into the room over the now-flattened door, dragging a chunk of a metal propeller behind it. It loomed tall, with a single dark, glossy eye-like panel taking up the entirety of its face. Silently, an arm rose, pointing a single finger towards Isabel, before a booming voice rang out:
"Greetings, young pelican! I am Moon Champion, champion of the Moon, defender of space justice and destroyer of evil! Tell me, would you like to go on a magical adventure?"
Isabel Wondertainment stood, arms crossed, staring at the intruder. Nobody moved as the insane statement hung in the air. After a moment, she sighed dramatically, threw her arms wide overhead and tossed her head back.
"Finally, somebody asks the real questions!"
Isabel finished double-knotting her Wondertainment Spring-Toed Gallivanting Shoes on as the Jeremies and the burly astronaut wrestled joyfully on the floor.
"Double drat. When you showed up all heroic and stuff, I assumed you were someone who would know what was going on."
"I do not! Did you know that in the event that the earth suddenly ceased its rotation, the orbital pull of the moon would slowly restart it? That is why I came down! And then I detected the heart of a maiden in jeopardy!"
"Well, if the whole dang world has stopped, then we've still got work to do. There's an air of adulthood on the winds that I want gone. It's abysmal! The last time I encountered something like this was the RMV."
Moon Champion flipped over and shot upright.
"Such evil! Did you slay it?"
"Blew it up!"
"Splendid! I can tell, lady princess doctor Wonderwall, that I have chosen the perfect companion!"
Isabel bowed with a flourish.
"You're not too shabby, yourself! Great carnage on the lower floors, somebody is definitely getting themselves an action figure line!"
Moon Champion giggled with glee, bouncing up and down and shaking his fists in childish excitement. Isabel turned towards her desk.
"Now then, in order to have a genuine certified Magical Adventure, we need to have a winding, exciting path of trials and tribulations with our goal at the end. But neither of us know exactly what's going on or how to stop it."
Isabel pranced over and began flipping wildly through her rolodex, which jangled along to the tune of "Pop Goes The Weasel" until a lone business card was jettisoned upwards in a spray of confetti made of other, less fortunate business cards. She snatched it out of the air and brandished it dramatically. Moon Champion and the corgis all adorably tilted their heads in unified confusion.
"Fortunately, I have a connection that knows pretty much everything worth knowing."
