Cody Hollywood adventures

Chapter 3: Universe-Hopping and the Momoathorn

The graveyard fell silent, the chaos of bone-chucking and Time Cop-defeating action finally over. Cody Hollywood stood triumphantly among the scattered bodies of the Continuity Police and Time Cops, his golden tuxedo still shining brightly under the dim moonlight. Dusting off his sleeves, Cody adjusted his collar with a smirk, admiring his work.

As he stepped over the pile of defeated enemies, one last Time Cop staggered to his feet. His face looked strangely familiar-a dead ringer for the rapper Tom McDonald, right down to the braids and tattoos. The Time Cop sneered, wiping blood from his mouth as he stumbled toward Cody.

"Hey, you liberal f**k," the Tom McDonald lookalike spat, his voice dripping with anger. "Those guys you just took down? They were heroes of America. Worth more than a damn in your country. And guess what? I'm Canadian."

Cody raised an eyebrow, slowly turning toward him. "Oh yeah?" he said, his smirk fading into something much colder. "Well, let me tell you something, buddy."

In one smooth motion, Cody pulled a gleaming knife from his belt and hurled it at the last Time Cop. The blade sailed through the air, striking the man square in the chest. He let out a choked gasp, stumbling back as the force of the throw knocked him to his knees.

"KEEP MY COUNTRY'S NAME OUT OF YOUR DIRTY CANADIAN MOUTH!" Cody roared, his voice echoing through the empty graveyard. He strode forward, leaning over the fallen Time Cop with a dark grin. "Also... my knife."

With a swift yank, Cody pulled the knife out of the man's chest, wiping the blood off on his jacket before slipping it back into its holster. The Time Cop's eyes rolled back as he collapsed onto the ground, motionless.

"Now, where was I?" Cody muttered to himself, glancing around the chaos. "Oh yeah... finding Jack."

Cody cracked his knuckles and looked down at the diamond-covered skeleton of Jack "Blackthorn" Connolly. The truth was, Jack's presence was still needed in the multiverse, and Cody wasn't about to let his friend's legacy die in a grave. But if this Jack was nothing more than bones, then it was time to find a living, breathing Jack in one of the countless alternate realities.

With a flick of his wrist, Cody activated the portal generator he'd swiped from the Time Cops earlier. The swirling vortex of energy erupted before him, lighting up the night like a fireworks show. Without a second thought, Cody stepped through the portal, determined to track down an alive version of Jack "Blackthorn" Connolly.

The first universe Cody hopped into was disappointingly mundane. He found himself in the middle of a dusty, old saloon, the stench of whiskey and cigar smoke heavy in the air. Cody scanned the room, his eyes quickly landing on a short, stout man playing cards at the corner table.

It didn't take long for Cody to realize this was some alternate version of Jack-just... smaller. The man barely reached Cody's chest and didn't seem to carry the same outlaw swagger that his old friend did.

Cody sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose. "This is... not it," he muttered, backing out of the saloon before anyone could notice him.

The next universe he landed in was worse-much worse. Cody emerged in the middle of a desert, the sun beating down on his golden tuxedo as he stumbled across the sands. His eyes widened in horror as he spotted Jack-or at least a version of him-crucified on a makeshift cross, his body limp and lifeless under the scorching sun.

"Yikes. Definitely not this one," Cody said, wincing as he quickly punched in new coordinates on the portal generator. Before he left, he gave the crucified Jack a quick salute. "Sorry, buddy. Wrong universe."

The third stop brought Cody to a smoky casino, filled with the clattering of poker chips and the ringing of slot machines. This version of Jack was very much alive-too alive, actually. Cody found him at a blackjack table, surrounded by cheering gamblers, his fangs glinting as he flashed a wicked grin.

"Gambling Jack? Yeah, no thanks," Cody muttered, shaking his head. He could already see the trouble this Jack would cause. Besides, he wasn't here to save the multiverse with a vampire gambler.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity of universe-hopping, Cody found himself standing in front of a version of Jack Connolly that looked like he'd walked straight out of a superhero movie. This Jack was tall-really tall-muscular, and had a wild, untamed look about him, like a cowboy crossed with a warrior god. His long hair flowed down his back, his beard thick and unruly. He looked a lot like Jason Momoa, but with a more dangerous edge.

Cody's eyes lit up as he took in the sight of this new version of his old friend. "Well, well, well. Looks like I found myself the Momoathorn," Cody said with a grin.

Jack-or Momoathorn, as Cody had already nicknamed him-glanced over, his eyes narrowing. He didn't look amused. Cody took a deep breath and stepped forward, trying his best to sound diplomatic.

"Look, man," Cody began, "I know you're probably busy being all... you know... awesome. But I'm in a bit of a situation here. I need a Jack Connolly to help stabilize the multiverse, and, well, you're probably the best candidate I've seen so far. Way better than that gambling Jack or the one who got crucified. So what do you say? We treat you better than the blue superhero team universe and the red superhero team universe ever could."

Momoathorn stood up, towering over Cody, his muscles rippling with tension. "You were just leaving," he growled, his voice low and threatening.

Cody blinked, raising his hands in a gesture of peace. "Whoa, hey, I'm just trying to-"

Before Cody could finish, Momoathorn's massive fist connected with his chest, sending him flying backward. Cody crashed through a swirling portal, the force of the punch launching him across dimensions.

When Cody finally landed, he found himself in what appeared to be the saddest, most desolate version of the multiverse. He stood in the middle of a rundown bar, the air thick with the smell of stale beer and broken dreams. There, slumped over the counter, was a version of Jack "Blackthorn" Connolly who looked like he'd seen better days. This Jack was drunk, his once-fierce eyes glazed over, his fangs barely visible beneath a scraggly beard.

"Of course," Cody muttered, rolling his eyes. "Out of all the Jacks, I get stuck with this one."

With a sigh, Cody scooped up the passed-out vampire outlaw, slinging him over his shoulder. He activated the portal generator one last time, returning to the Time Cops' base of operations.

Back in the sterile, futuristic base, Cody dropped the drunk, unconscious Jack onto the cold floor. "Alright, boys," Cody said, looking around at the defeated Time Cops. "I got your Jack. Now let's fix this mess before I have to deal with more of you continuity nerds."

As Cody waited for the inevitable fallout, he glanced down at the sad, drunken version of his old friend and sighed. "Guess we'll have to make this work, huh?"