Irrelevant

Confrontation

I arrive at the comedy club. Wait, how am I supposed to find Nameless? He could be anyone. Neither of us thought this through huh?

I see Marcie. She wears a cute blue dress that compliments her yellow eyes. "It's me," I explain, my borrowed form that of Prototype 50, "over here."

I wave at her, she smiles and waves back. She sits at the table and smiles again.

"How you been?" I ask.

"Fine," he replies distantly, "you?"

"Pretty good," I smile, "pretty good. Actually, there's something I need to tell you. See, Antihero-"

"Is not our problem. Don't worry about that genocidal maniac. It's not like you know them, right?"

"Righhhht... it's not like I know them. Anyways, what you been up to? Anything interesting?"

Well, I guess I should play along until the opportunity to kill her presents itself.

"I've been working on some sculptures," I explain, "it's something I do off camera."

"You sculpt?" She asks.

"Yeah," I reply, "mostly simple stuff. Like 1:1 perfect statues of heroes at their greatest moments in combat, that sort of thing."

"You call that simple?"

"Yeah. It's easy."

"How long you been doing that?"

"Thirty billion years."

"And, again, you say that these perfect recreations are just simple?"

"Yup. Just something I do for fun. It's not like they're any good."

"Oh come on, I'm sure they're great. Could I see one?"

"Sure. Got a photo on my phone."

He takes out his phone and shows me a photo of a gorgeous statue of Reaper serving as a harbinger of one of the entities while facing Hatred. The attention to detail is unbelievable. There's not an ember out of place.

"This is amazing!" I exclaim, "Why aren't you famous yet?"

"I'm nobody," he replies, still distant, "I just steal the form of others. There's no me, just others."

Well, this took a turn. "That's not true," I smile, "you are somebody. I mean, I'm not talking to Prototype 50, I'm talking to you, Nameless."

"Yup," he replies, "I'm nameless. I'm a nobody."

"Nameless, I assure you, you are somebody."

"Can you prove that? Can you prove such a wild claim?"

"Well," I hold his hand, "I agreed to come here with you, didn't I? I didn't agree to come with Pestilence or Prototype 50, but you, Nameless."

"Hm, I guess that makes sense. Although I just have one question."

"What is it?"

I don't wanna do this. She's the only one who truly understands my pain, and helps me get through it, but... she's still Antihero. It must be done.

"If you truly agreed to some here with me," I sigh, "is it because of some sort of feelings you have for me or... because you want to erase me?"

"What?" I ask.

"I'm not an idiot. Marcie," he replies, "you're Antihero. I saw you with the mask. You must be stopped, but before I kill you, I just wanna say, thanks, for showing me my true self. Goodbye."

"Wait!" I exclaim, "I'm not Antihero! I can explain!"

"Well you better have a damn good explanation then, cause I'm afraid I can't take any chances."

"Antihero is my father. I was just trying on the mask."

"Nice try, but I would never call for such an obvious lie."

"Ah ah ah," a voice chuckles, "I wouldn't be so certian."

There's a scream from the crowd. Antihero stands on the stage, with his soul erasing sword to Dream Reaper's throat...