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Rebel the Wolfgirl

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Rebel the Wolfgirl last won the day on March 16 2022

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About Rebel the Wolfgirl

  • Birthday 01/05/1998


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    Resident Bimbo Wolfgirl

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    Rebel the Wolfgirl
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    What you're reading right now.
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    is total crap.

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    -Anarchist politics
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    Live from Antarctica
  • Favorite Episode
    Tea at the Treedome
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  1. tbh, I wanna do something paganism (or spirituality more generally) related on here similar to @HawkbitAlpha's political dissertations.

    What would genuinely interest you?

    (note that because religion is one of those "hot button" topics, I will very likely have to keep it within the Squidward's House subforum, if not create an "invite-only" group if those who might be interested in such want it)

  2. Have you read Phoebe and Her Unicorn?
  3. "Can't Stand the Rezillos" has become one of my new fave albums as of late.

  4. I said I was the cops

    And your husband's in jail

    The state looks down on sodomy

  5. I wanna do a top 11 power pop albums thread

    1. Green Kirby

      Green Kirby

      You're perfectly free to do that if you want. I recommend putting it in the music section, since that is where it will be the most topical.

  6. So, after a LOONG unintended schedule slip, I am going to get back to work on Supreme: The Ivory Icon by setting up a proper schedule of release:  every 2 weeks on Saturday, starting on the 17th.

  7. OK, so I made a slight "Orwellian Retcon" to the first episode of Supreme: The Ivory Icon due to changing plot developments - initially the character of Professor Night was intended to be fictional, with his role as the actual Batman expy taken by Big Bang Comics' Knight Watchman. Now, though, it's the other way around; arguably this changes absolutely nothing, since it doesn't ruin my overall plans for said Batman expy, but it'll avoid the late realization and subsequent headache I would've had in regards to the first major storyline of "Supreme: The Ivory Icon".

  8. Hey, Mr. Buttercup, spin the wheel and try your luck.
  9. Gonna blam-blam at "Supreme: The Ivory Icon".
  10. Whatever Happened to the Man of Majesty? “This is an imaginary story...but aren’t they all?” -Alan Moore, opening narration of Superman #423 “...city of gold...need to get to the city of gold…” “Ethan, darling, wake up.” a soft, musical voice whispered in the darkness. Immediately, Ethan Crane bolted upright, breathing heavily and fumbling for the bedside lamp. With a sort of one-two-three twisting motion, he switched it on, the amber light illuminating the room. The bedroom was painted a dark blue, decorated with various pictures of the happy couple and a few paintings such as The Starry Night. Draped beneath the grey bedsheets, Ethan blinked his bright, ocean blue eyes a couple of times before turning to look at his wife. Emily Crane was a beautiful fair-skinned brunette thirtysomething; she and Ethan had married young yet the spark had never faded from their relationship. “You were talking in your sleep again.” she said, running a hand through his short platinum blonde locks. Ethan looked down at her other hand awkwardly, trying to find the right words as he subconsciously intertwined his fingers with hers. “I’ve been doing that a lot lately, haven’t I?” he asked after what seemed like an incredibly long time, although in truth it was more like 30 seconds. Emily gave a small nod. “You have, yes.” she replied. “It's rather concerning, if I’m honest.” Ethan considered his wife’s words: recurring dreams weren’t usually a problem, especially not vivid ones like he’d been having - the actual problem, he’d found, was that he couldn’t remember who he was...well, not entirely - of course, he knew he was Ethan Crane; 30 years old, married to one Emily Crane (nee Bonham) and a freelance artist who worked at local comic shop Dazzle Comics. He was 6’2”, weighing around 260 pounds; considering all that was pure muscle and taking his height into account, he had an incredibly intimidating figure, and was fair-skinned. It was just everything else outside of that he couldn’t remember; not his birthday, where he’d grown up, when he’d gotten married...nothing. As far as Ethan was concerned, he was a near-complete amnesiac. He hadn’t told Emily any of this, however, since worrying her into a mental breakdown was the last thing he wanted. His thoughts were interrupted by Emily sharply whistling and snapping her fingers in front of him. “Yoo-hoo, Ethan?” she semi-playfully called. “Oh, hmm?” came the response. Emily was frowning a bit at him now, and giving her patented Look. Ethan hated when she gave him the Look - that meant she was REALLY concerned now. “Are you sure you’re alright?” she asked him. “Because I think you really should talk about this.” Ethan looked deep into her eyes, wondering if she should know. Mulling his next words carefully, he answered plainly: “I...don’t know who I really am.” he admitted. “M-metaphorically, I mean.” he quickly amended. Emily’s gaze softened, and she tilted her head in an almost quizzical manner. “Oh?” she asked. “Is this a...quarter-life crisis of some kind?” “Yes!” Ethan nodded, inwardly breathing a sigh of relief. You have no idea just how right you are, Em, he thought. “It’s probably stress from work. You know, having to deal with whiny kids and all that.” “I see.” Emily replied. “Well, I hope all this can be over soon.” She gave her husband a peck on the cheek before lying back down. “I’ll probably make a therapist appointment tomorrow.” Ethan said before turning the lamp back off. “Good night, Emily.” The only response Ethan got was silence followed by soft, and frankly adorable snoring. Ethan chuckled, gently kissing his wife on the forehead before going back to sleep himself. His dreams, however, were no less troubled than they had been before: visions of a white void, a floating golden city, and thousands of people that looked like him, all dressed in a white and red uniform. He hadn’t known how long he’d had these dreams - months, years? Time was an utterly irrelevant illusion, it seemed. And that was what absolutely terrified Ethan the most. Dr. Maxine Winslow sat in her office awaiting her next patient; she was a black woman perhaps in her early forties, her dark hair styled in a bob and dressed in a grey pantsuit. Her office was sparsely furnished; a couple of small chairs, a larger couch where she was currently sitting, and a few bookshelves scattered about were all there were, with Dr. Winslow’s degrees and a couple of modern art pieces hanging on a wall. From outside, she could hear music loudly blaring; she smiled to herself. “That must be him.” she guessed. She watched as Ethan walked in, her eyes widening as she got a good look at him - from where she was sitting she seemed absolutely tiny in comparison to the living, white-haired colossus that stood in the doorway. “Dr. Winslow?” Ethan asked. He was dressed casually: a black Reverend Horton Heat T-shirt somehow managing to fit snugly around his absurdly muscular frame, dark blue jeans, and white tennis shoes; capping off the look was a pair of horn-rimmed glasses. Maxine immediately snapped out of her reverie and quickly put on what she referred to as her ‘work face’, her expression changing into a neutral one. “Come in, Mr. Crane.” she said, her tone flat and professional. “Have a seat, won’t you?” Ethan sat in the left chair, uncomfortably adjusting himself as he tried to find the right position. Maxine watched him, trying to keep a straight face. Once he was done, she pulled out a black notebook and pen. “So, Mr. Crane,” she began. “I understand you’ve been having strange dreams recently. Am I correct?” Ethan nodded. “Yes. It’s honestly very concerning to say the least.” “Well, you’ve come to the right place.” Dr. Winslow replied. “As an analytical psychologist, dream interpretation is one of my specialties.” She got her pen ready. “Tell me about these dreams, Mr. Crane.” “Well,” Ethan began as his eyes wandered towards the ceiling in thought. “I’m in a white void. I’m floating, no, flying, towards this massive city of gold - it seems nearly infinite, like it goes on forever and it contains hundreds of billions of residents.” Dr Winslow jotted all this down, her eyebrow raised inquistively. “Do go on, Mr. Crane.” “As I’m flying towards this golden city, it keeps getting further and further away from me.” Ethan continued. “Like something is preventing me from getting there. A-and there’s all these people that look like me…but they’re wearing these weird uniforms. Like red and white bodysuits with capes. Almost like…like…” “...superhero costumes?” Dr. Winslow finished with a knowing, amused smirk. Ethan’s eyes widened, and Dr. Winslow almost swore he leaped out of his seat at supersonic speed. “YES!” Ethan shouted, relief in his voice. “LIKE SUPERHEROES!” He caught himself shouting and sat back down meekly. “S-sorry.” Dr. Winslow laughed a bit. “It’s quite alright, Mr. Crane.” She looked at what she’d written and nodded. “Interesting. Very interesting.” She looked straight at Ethan, her gaze unwavering. “Mr. Crane, are you aware of how my line of work functions?” Ethan looked up to the ceiling in thought. “Something to do with unconsciousness, right?” Dr. Winslow nodded. “Yes. Jungian psychology isn’t about believing neuroses arise from trauma, at least not entirely. Instead we believe that they arise from an individual’s tensions within their psyche.” At this she retrieved a large drawing of three overlapping circles labeled CONSCIOUSNESS, PERSONAL UNCONSCIOUSNESS, and COLLECTIVE UNCONSCIOUSNESS. Written at the top was the word PSYCHE. “This,” she explained, “is how the psyche is divided. It’s more complex than this, but we’ll get into that later should you choose to come to my office again.” She then pointed to each circle, explaining what they meant - consciousness was the waking perceptions of the world and short term memories, personal unconsciousness was where long-term memories and subsequently complexes resided; Dr. Winslow further explained that while Freud believed complexes solely consisted of repressed trauma, Jung believed complexes were twofold, consisting of both positive and negative memories and the duality was necessary for healing traumas. Finally, there was the collective unconsciousness which was shared by all humanity. Here were the more primal instincts of humans, where ideas, stories, and dreams were born. “This is all fascinating stuff, Dr. Winslow,” Ethan interrupted, “but what does all that have to do with my dreams?” “Are you familiar with the idea of the ‘city of gold’?” Dr. Winslow asked him. “El Dorado, the seven cities and the like?” “Of course I am.” Ethan said. “They've got no horns and they've got no tail/They don't even know of our existence/Am I wrong to believe in a city of gold/That lies in the deep distance, he cried…” “I see you’re a fellow Genesis fan.” Dr. Winslow commented with a wry grin. “Now, in studying what this dream means, we need to figure out what archetype the City of Gold represents.” She put down her notepad and clasped her hands together, looking at Ethan. “When you hear that term, what is the first thing that pops into your head, Mr. Crane?” Ethan didn’t even need to think about the answer. “A paradise. An unattainable desire - that’s what the conquistadors who sought El Dorado wanted. Nothing but an impossible dream.” “Nothing is impossible.” Dr. Winslow said. “I think this ‘city of gold’ represents some kind of thing you desperately want, but can’t get to.” She paused. “Mr. Crane, what do you desire most?” the therapist asked kindly. Ethan looked away. “I…I can’t say. You wouldn’t believe me.” “Mr. Crane,” Dr. Winslow reminded him. “this is all confidential. You can tell me anything.” Ethan sighed, continuing to look down on the floor. “I don’t know who I am.” “Of course.” Dr. Winslow answered. “That’s why you’re here.” “No, I mean literally!” At this Ethan stood up from the chair. Tears breaking through, his voice starting to crack from emotion, he shouted, “I LITERALLY DON’T KNOW WHO I AM!” “Mr. Crane, if you could just sit down…” Dr. Winslow pleaded. The sight of this titan of a man having an almost full emotional breakdown worried her immensely; in fact, it terrified her. “I CAN’T JUST SIT DOWN AND TALK ABOUT THIS, DOCTOR!” Ethan shouted. “I HAVE NO IDEA WHO I AM, I HAVEN’T FOR GOD KNOWS HOW LONG! MONTHS, YEARS…NOTHING!” Dr. Winslow had to hold on to her chair as she felt almost gale-force winds blow her back into the wall, the windows shattering and the street outside now filled with a chorus of car alarms. Maxine slowly opened her eyes to see her office wrecked into oblivion, Ethan still standing amongst the toppled bookshelves and remnants of diploma frames hanging by the nails. He stared at her like a deer in the headlights. “D-dr. Winslow…I…I…” “...What are you?” she interrupted. “I haven’t seen anything like this, not since…since Supreme.” The word caused Ethan to freeze up. “W-what did you say?” he asked, his voice a soft whisper. “S-supreme.” Dr. Winslow repeated. “But he’s been gone for nearly 30 years.” “...That name…” Ethan muttered. “It kept cropping up in my dream.” Suddenly it all made sense to Maxine. “A-are you Supreme’s son?” Ethan paused. Something about that didn’t feel right, exactly, but he nodded anyway. “Y-yes. I didn’t know him.” Best to keep this up until you get some real answers, he thought to himself. “H-he named me after his friend, the other Ethan Crane.” A rather bold lie, considering as far as he knew, he didn’t know any other Ethan Cranes, let alone who this Supreme guy was, but it almost came naturally to him, perhaps this was that collective instinct Dr. Winslow talked about earlier. Dr. Winslow scowled a bit, looking at her notepad. “Hmmm, it’d make sense - Ethan Crane was one of Supreme’s closest civilian friends, and you do seem to be old enough to be his son.” She looked at her writings. “Though I’d imagine you don’t have many memories of your father, since Supreme died in 1986.” A feeling of dread settled over Ethan, and he nodded. “Perhaps these dreams are a manifestation of anxiety over your dad?” Dr. Winslow inquired. “I thought this type of therapy wasn’t about daddy issues.” Ethan joked. Dr. Winslow didn’t seem to smile in return. “Not entirely.” she reminded him. “Parental issues are but a singular aspect towards trauma, but they don’t explain everything.” She put the notepad down and clasped her hands together. “But that isn’t what I’m concerned with right now. You said you didn’t know - and I’m trying to get this straight here - almost anything about yourself?” “Aside from my name, age, my job, and my marriage.” he paused, quickly amending the bit about his supposed parentage. “I know nothing about myself. Not my childhood, who my mother was…nothing.” “Hmmm…a possible form of retrograde amnesia, perhaps?” Dr. Winslow speculated. “Though I’m merely a psychiatrist, not a neuroscientist.” Ethan made a mental note to get a CAT scan as soon as he could. “So what do you suggest I do?” Ethan asked. “Well, in case you aren’t aware, Jungian psychology can have some…unorthodox, sometimes even holistic, methods of treatment depending on the doctor.” Maxine replied. “What I’m going to recommend is rather unusual - are you aware of lucid dreaming, Mr. Crane?” “Yes.” Ethan answered, already knowing what she might be asking. “Alright,” Maxine said. “I want you to see if you can control what happens in the dream. See if you can get into this golden city.” She handed him a black spiral notebook. “This is going to be your dream journal. I want you to write down what happens in your dream, and next week we can discuss the results.” Ethan took the journal gratefully. “Thank you, Dr. Winslow.” he said to the woman. “And I-I’m sorry for destroying your office.” “It’s quite alright,” she said. “I can clean it up, if you’d like.” Ethan offered. Before Dr. Winslow could ask how he could, Ethan seemed to disappear for a minute, the same gale-force winds kicking up again; Dr. Winslow was forced to shut her eyes and when she opened them again, the office was as good as new. Maxine’s jaw dropped as Ethan appeared back in his chair, giving a small smile. “There we go.” he said. “Y-you…did all that?” Maxine asked. “Of course.” he replied. “It’s only polite.” “T-thank you, Mr. Crane.” Dr. Winslow said. “Anytime.” Ethan said. Getting up and walking towards the door, Ethan looked back at Maxine. “So, same time next week?” “Yes.” Dr. Winslow confirmed. “See you next week, Mr. Crane.” As Ethan left, Maxine smiled a bit herself. She was certainly going to find her sessions with Ethan Crane interesting. That night, after Ethan had arrived home from work (Mr. Tate certainly hadn’t expected him to show up given the earlier therapist appointment), he and Emily sat down to a nice dinner: meatloaf and mashed potatoes - his favorite. As they ate, Emily had inquired as to how the therapy session went; Ethan said it went well. She also asked him about his workday, and Ethan had responded that it was like every other day at Dazzle Comics - discussing what new titles a customer might like, talking about their favorites, and occasionally having to deal with the occasional irate customer…or perhaps his co-worker Billy Friday. “Oh, him.” Emily said, rather crestfallen. “He isn’t giving you or that Diana Dane girl any trouble again, is he?” Ethan rolled his eyes. “Not us, but he was harassing this little Muslim girl and her mother. Apparently, they were wanting to buy that new Knight Watchman and Galahad run, y’know, the one where Galahad’s now a 14-year old Pakistani-American?” Now Emily was not, in her own opinion, an avid comics reader like her husband was, but she knew just enough from Ethan’s workplace tales to keep up with current comic trends; apparently, in a bid to help broaden the readership scope and add diversity to its cast, Big Bang Comics (who were publishers of the Knight Watchman title since 1939) had decided to have the titular character choose yet another youngster to take on the mantle of his sidekick Galahad, this time choosing a high school freshman named Dhani Din. While the decision had gone very successfully, especially helping that at a couple points in Knight Watchman's history, the title of Galahad had been taken up by girls, unfortunately there was a small and very loud minority who decried this as “political correctness” in spite of not only the aforementioned fact, but as well as the fact that throughout its history, the comic book medium always had socially relevant messages in one form or another. Emily looked at her husband, narrowing her eyes in anger at the realization of what Mr. Friday might’ve done. “He didn’t.” she growled rhetorically. “He did.” Ethan said, sharing his wife’s understandable anger. “The little asshole called them all sorts of slurs, and said they didn’t ‘deserve’ to be comic readers.” “What an arsehole!” Emily agreed, crossing her arms. “Did Lucas do anything about it?” ‘Lucas’ referred to Ethan’s boss. “Because if you ask me, enough should be enough.” “And I agree with you.” Ethan said. “The little toad’s had more than enough chances to shape up and get his act together.” He pondered what to say next as he chewed a small bit of meatloaf, savoring the interplay between spices and gravy. “But yes, Lucas did say something about it. A lot of very loud and…colorful things.” Emily giggled a bit at the mental image of Lucas Tate cursing out Billy, but then her expression hardened back into seriousness. “What happened? Did he fire Billy?” “Honestly, I wish, but no. And not for lack of trying, either.” Ethan told her. “You need to remember, Lucas is only the manager. There isn’t much he can do without going through to the owner.” Ethan sorely wished that wasn’t the case, though - Billy Friday had been getting away with not only his gatekeeping behavior, but harassing women too, for way longer than Ethan would’ve liked. How many times now had he made lewd passing comments towards Diana, then outright deny he made any when confronted by either Ethan or Lucas? Ethan had lost count by this point, but he hoped his boss would finally do something about it. The uncomfortable topic was quickly put aside, as Ethan and Emily moved on to talk about other things. That night, as both husband and wife settled into bed for sleep, Ethan thought about what Dr. Winslow had told him at their session. Could he really control his dreams? Perhaps even figure out what this had to do with his lack of memories? He sure hoped so. Ethan took a deep breath, and drifted off to sleep, trying to focus on the fact that he’d be aware he was dreaming. Ethan found himself in the white void again - blinding white, as far as the eye could see. He was floating in the air, like before, and the city of gold was in the distance. He hesitated for a moment, unsure if he should move; perhaps whatever was keeping him from entering was still here. But he realized that this was his dream, and he could do as he pleased. So Ethan pushed himself forward just a bit, stretching out his right forearm as if he were flying…and he flew. Ethan smiled widely, and began laughing joyfully; he was actually flying. He began flying towards his destination, the fabled golden city, and was suddenly stopped by three figures, similar to the ones in his dream - one resembled him, but with odd proportions and too many muscles for his liking, another was a mouse it seemed, and another appeared to be a platinum blonde woman dressed in the same uniform the others wore; albeit instead of white, it seemed that the primary color was silver, not to mention that said uniform appeared to have a very large round hole in the middle showing off her rather, er, ample assets. That wasn’t even mentioning her boots appeared to be roller skates - and appeared to have a belt resembling a disco ball; put all together, she seemed to be the pure embodiment of the mid-to-late 70s. “There he is, gang!” the first figure gestured to the others. “The latest Supreme’s back!” “I’ll bet he’s-yeerk!-glad to see us again!” the mouse responded. Ethan stopped his flying, perplexed at the sight of not only a double of himself, but also what appeared to be a talking mouse. “Again?” Ethan decided to ask. “What does he mean again?” Actually, now that he thought about it, he seemed to know these people, almost like they were old friends. He slowly flew towards them, just enough to keep some distance between himself and the other three, just in case they were hostile…and yet, on some instinctive level, he knew they wouldn’t hurt him. He turned to his double and asked, “Excuse me, but who are you, exactly?” The man gave a warm, friendly smile and extended a hand. “I’m 90s Supreme, your predecessor. That big cheese over there,” he gestured to the mouse, a black and white-furred rodent, “is Squeak the Supremouse.” “Hey, who’re you calling -yeerk!- a big cheese?!” Squeak responded with a joking grin. “You helped save our behinds in the Battle of the Supremacy, ya big palooka!” 90s Supreme chuckled. “You’re right, you’re right, I did.” Ethan turned to the woman next. “Battle of the…Supremacy?” She rolled her eyes at him. “It’s our crib.” “...Crib?” Ethan asked. “Our pad. Our place. Ya dig?” Ethan seemed utterly lost. “Oh, right. Name’s Disco Dazzlin’ Suprema.” She likewise extended a hand. “I’m a ‘70s-era Secondary Supreme.” “Secondary Supreme?” Ethan asked, now even more lost from before. “You’ll want to come with us.” 90s Supreme said. “We’ll explain everything on the way to the Supremacy.” 90s Supreme flew off, followed by Squeak and Disco Dazzlin’ Suprema. Ethan hesitated for a moment before following them. The four of them flew for a bit, before Ethan;s eyes lay on their destination - a truly sprawling golden metropolis floating in the void; buildings made from the purest gold, reaching up to indescribable heights, sculpted in a sort of retro ‘40s Art Deco style. Looking downwards, Ethan could see that the entire city was built around a base of gold highways, and looking back up, he could see upon closer inspection via micro-sight (since when did he have micro-sight, he wondered?) that in the exact center of the city was a statue of…well, himself, lifting a globe; in fact, said statue seemed to be just one part of a larger, palace-like complex that had effigies of his likeness carved into it. “...Have I died and gone to heaven?” he wondered aloud. The three Supremes turned to look at him. “Well, no; you aren’t dead. In fact, that’s why we’re going to the Supremarch’s Palace - no other Supreme aside from me has shown up here before they’ve been revised. If it’s happened twice now, then I suspect something may have gone wrong.” 90s Supreme informed. “But you are right about the heaven part.” Disco Dazzlin’ Suprema interjected. “Every time a Supreme gets revised, they and their supporting cast end up in the Supremacy. Take me, for example - I ended up here…oh, around 1978?” “And me in the - yeerk! - 1950s!” Squeak interjected. “What’s a revision?” Ethan asked. 90s Supreme put a finger to his chin in thought. “Hmmmm…how do I best explain it…well, you know how stories like fairy tales, films, even comic books change with every telling, right?” Ethan nodded. “Yeah - it seems like every couple decades continuity gets thrown out the window, changed, re…vised…” Now it dawned on him. “Are you saying I’m just part of a story?” “Well, not in a literal sense, no.” 90s Supreme said. “At least, I’m not sure; none of us are. But in a metaphorical sense? Yes.” He then gestured to several other Supremes waving at them from below. “You see those other Supremes?” Ethan nodded again. “Every so often reality ‘revises’ itself, and the previous world disappears, only to create a new one and consequently a new Supreme with it. Like I said, I was the one to come before you.” “So you’re saying I’m the newest Supreme?” Ethan asked; even though it was rather obvious. “Duh, Captain Obvious.” 90s Supreme said playfully, placing a hand on Ethan’s shoulder. “B-but…” Ethan looked away nervously. “This seems all too much like…like…” “...a dream?” 90s Supreme asked as the four of them landed at the gates to the palace. “A hoax? An imaginary story? I thought the same thing when I first came here, but I termed it a ‘schizophrenic breakdown’.” Ethan paled. “...Wrong choice of words?” 90s Supreme finished. “I’m sorry, that was crass of me.” “It’s fine.” Ethan assured him. “It’s just…I can’t remember much of anything; that’s why I’m seeing a psychologist.” “Ahhhh,” came a new voice. Ethan, 90s Supreme, Disco Dazzlin’ Suprema, and Squeak turned to the new figure - a figure resembling themselves, with the exception of the gold crown atop his head. The latter three bowed, but the figure seemed to be focused on Ethan for the moment. “You must be the new Supreme. I am King Supreme the Fifth, the Supremarch of the Supremacy.” Ethan stood there, unsure of whether to bow like the others or if he wanted to shake his hand. “There’s no need to be afraid, son. I’m not going to hurt you.” “G-greetings, your majesty.” Ethan said, bowing. King Supreme the Fifth merely smiled at him. “There’s no need for formalities, you four. I’m the same as all of you.” King Supreme assured them. Once each of them rose back to their feet, he turned to Ethan. “So, I hear you have gaps in your memory, yes?” “Yes, sir.” Ethan answered. “I barely know who I am. All I know is I’m Ethan Crane. I’m 30 years old, am married with no children to one Emily Crane nee Bonham, and I work at Dazzle Comics in Omegalopolis, Ohio.” “Well, that certainly explains it - your past hasn’t been filled in yet.” King Supreme said. “Give or take, I’d say you’ve only really existed for about a year and a half so far. You barely know who you are simply because you don’t.” Ethan stood there for a moment, trying to comprehend this information; combined with what he’d just been told about revisions, this nearly threw him for an existential loop - instead of nearly breaking from what seemed like a sort of dreadful horrific realization, however, he quickly accepted it. “That…makes sense.” he concluded. “But that probably opens up a whole other can of worms that’s better asked later.” “You can talk about the metaphysics of it all with Supreme-Of-The-Future.” King Supreme said, dismissively waving a hand. “He knows about it much more than I do - I believe he’s at the Snackbar Supreme. Squeak, Disco Dazzlin’ Suprema, go with Nu-Supreme; he probably hasn’t had a bite all the while he’s been here! Meanwhile,” now he turned to 90s Supreme. “you and I should probably discuss this latest incarnation in my throne room.” “My thoughts exactly, your majesty.” 90s Supreme said, following the king into the palace; the door slamming behind them. Squeak, Disco-Dazzlin’ Suprema, and Ethan stared for a moment before Squeak piped up. “Soooo…last one to the Snackbar Supreme is a rotten limburger?” he challenged. “You’re on, rat.” Disco Dazzlin’ Suprema retorted, earning her a dirty glare from the Supremouse. With that, the two of them flew off at top speed supreme, Ethan, or perhaps ‘Nu-Supreme’ to them, being left in the dust. He followed, wondering to himself just what other Supremes could be like around here. Meanwhile, in the Supremarch’s Palace, 90s Supreme and King Supreme walked down the palace’s Hall of Supremes, a spiral-like, multistory room containing statues of all the other past Supremes that seemed to go on for eternity - carved ornately, like the rest of the the palace (and by extension the Supremacy itself) from pure gold, each statue was built under an ornate arch, labeled with the name of the particular Supreme they represented; 90s Supreme stared at them as he collected his thoughts - how to phrase his particular concern about Nu-Supreme appearing before he was revised much like 90s himself had. “Your Majesty,” he began, tersely and awkwardly, very nearly stumbling over his words as he spoke. “This new Supreme…” “Yes, I’m aware.” King Supreme said, his tone serious and businesslike. “Something must have happened during the revisioning process.” 90s Supreme nodded once, as if to concur His Majesty’s statement. “I was thinking something must have gone wrong; not severely, mind you, but very clearly there must be a, if you’ll pardon my phrasing, glitch in the matrix.” “Were you even around for that movie?” King Supreme asked absentmindedly, picking up on the reference. “Yes; I saw it with 90s Diana back in 1999, but that isn’t the point.” 90s Supreme continued. “Between the Battle of the Supremacy and now, something must have…well, caused the current revisoning to boink up a bit. Not severely, but just enough to cause a bit of deja vu. Really, think about it, your Majesty. Nu-Supreme lives in Omegalopolis, I lived in Omegalopolis; he works at Dazzle Comics, I worked at Dazzle Comics.” “Well, that’s probably just coincidence, 90s Supreme; sometimes a revision might repeat itself in the details-” “Yes, but Nu-Supreme showed up here before his world got revisioned just like I did.” 90s Supreme interrupted. “That can’t be a coincidence.” King Supreme fell silent for a moment, closing his eyes and lowering his head in thought. “Yes, and that’s what worries me - you mentioned the Battle of the Supremacy. I don’t need to remind you of that fateful day. It was our Ragnarok.” 90s Supreme nodded. “Yes. And yet, as you said, that was only one version of the Supremacy - ‘you can’t destroy an idea’ were your exact words, if I am recalling correctly.” “You’re right.” King Supreme said as they continued walking through the Hall, his gaze falling onto each and every statue. “But what does this have to do with the Battle?” “Well,” 90s Supreme said as he trailed behind his king, “what if, when that version of the Supremacy was destroyed, something happened in the subsequent revision once The End killed me?” 90s Supreme shuddered as he recalled The End - a faceless, monosyllabic man who thought of himself as the bringer of the apocalypse; he remembered vividly how he utterly slaughtered 90s Dax, Dianax…all the Daxes from various continuities who had attempted to destroy the Supremacy in the hopes of evil finally reigning over good. What they had failed to realize, however, was that the Supremacy could never be truly destroyed - it would just reappear, none the worse for wear, with all the Supremes of the past as good as new. And that’s what had happened in the Battle of Supremacy - 90s Supreme had, after the End had killed him, found himself in the Supremacy, his story ended and the world being subsequently revisioned for Nu-Supreme. “I hadn’t thought about it that way, 90s Supreme, but now that I am, you could very well be onto something.” King Supreme said as they reached the throne room, its doors carved with the symbols of his home planet Supron. Within was an elaborate throne, several more Supreme statues, and a few portraits of King Supreme’s most cherished memories - the wedding to both his own Diana Dane and Judy Jordan, his coronation as Supremarch, and the Fly-By welcoming 90s Supreme when the latter first arrived. Watching the king sit on his throne in contemplation, 90s Supreme was almost reminded of Rodin’s Thinker. “Hmmmm…” King Supreme asked his counterpart. “What do you suggest we do? As far as we know, nothing seems particularly wrong with Nu-Supreme or his world.” “As far as we know,” 90s Supreme emphasized to him, his tone measured and calm. “We don’t know if the current revision has any dangerous or devastating effects and I certainly don’t care to find out; I know you’d be saying the same thing.” King Supreme didn’t move or change his expression, only giving a small nod in acknowledgement. “That is true.” King Supreme said, thinking long and hard. “Perhaps we can keep an eye on Nu-Supreme…or should I say, you keep an eye on Nu-Supreme.” 90s Supreme quirked a brow. “And how do you propose I do that? It isn’t like I can go into the new revision - I don’t think that the universe would allow for it; it probably would end up collapsing reality. And besides, could you imagine the chaos of not one, but two Supremes flying around-” King Supreme raised a hand to silence him, and 90s Supreme complied. “That is why I propose a…rather peculiar idea, admittedly.” King Supreme spoke. “Do you recall that you built a sort of artificial Golden Gate to the Supremacy in your own revision?” “Yes.” 90s Supreme answered, remembering the piece of technology in question. He had only used it two times - once to take his Diana to the Supremacy, and another to call in reinforcements during the Battle of the Supremacy. Now, like everything else associated with him, it had come with 90s Supreme once he’d been revised, and now it sat, like so many other things, in his home as a sort of souvenir. He had a strong suspicion of what King Supreme was getting at, and while it was certainly a fascinating idea, he wasn’t certain about it. “Are you suggesting what I think you’re suggesting, your Majesty?” “That depends - what do you think I’m suggesting?” King Supreme asked rhetorically with a smirk. 90s Supreme could only respond by smirking back and chuckling, placing a hand on King Supreme’s shoulder. “Your Majesty, you’re a mad genius.” 90s Supreme said. He then raised his brow quizzically. “I have just one question, though. Is it possible?” King Supreme’s expression didn’t change; in fact his smirk only seemed to grow wider. “We’re Supremes. Anything is possible.” And with that, the two of them flew out of the throne room towards 90s Supreme’s home. Meanwhile, Nu-Supreme and the others sat at a table in the Snackbar Supreme: a food court located in the seemingly-infinite Supremall, the Snackbar seemed to carry every sort of food imaginable and some that hadn’t been imagined yet. Sir Supreme’s Ye Olde Pizza and Subs, for example was exactly what it said, run by a Supreme clad entirely in white metal armor out of Arthurian legend; apparently Sir Supreme was an imaginary medieval variant, and once he’d gotten past the knight’s seemingly impenetrable Middle English, Nu-Supreme found that he was incredibly amiable. “Greetings, thee musÞ bæ th' newesÞ Supremæ avatar. Ich am Sir Supremæ. H'w dī thee do, mīn o, man?” the knight said, his heavy accent echoing from inside his armor. Nu-Supreme quirked a brow, and politely shook the knight’s hand in return. “Indeed I am, Sir Supreme.” he replied with a polite smile. “So, what’s your story, if I may ask?” “Well,” Sir Supreme began, “Ich waſ th' bravesÞ ā̆thel-man in th' kingshipe ophe Omegalot, born bihofþe th' most wondrous Rochand a'd Queen Cranæ; Giftede th' kinekin supremium sworede sin hath bene in mīn dynastī for sīquār immemorial, Ich founede sin whan Ich helede intransiciọ̄n alofÞ a'd declarede 'I am Supreme!' Ich waſ transethformed, aſ if bī th' graceſ ophe Gog, intī th' mosÞ powerplenē̆rlī warrior in unexceptid th' realms!” Although Nu-Supreme barely understood a word, he understood just enough to get by - Shakespeare this guy was most definitely not. “So I can assume you went on all sorts of adventures, rescuing princesses, battling monsters, and the like?” Nu-Supreme guessed. “Sin a'd perexcellentlī much more, mīn aqueintẹ̄!” Sir Supreme laughed heartily, the sound echoing like tin in his helmet. “Ich spenÞ manī ain quesÞ battlende th' forceſ ophe th' demon nigromancien Dax aſ weī̆ple aſ tryende bihofþe wede th' beautiplenē̆rlī Ladī Danæ.” Nu-Supreme almost did a double take, looking between the knight, Disco Dazzlin’ Suprema, and Squeak. “Did he just say…Lady Dane?” Nu-Supreme asked. “Of course he did.” Disco Dazzlin’ Suprema replied in an ‘isn’t it obvious’ sort of tone. “Almost every Supreme has a Diana Dane or a Judy Jordan. Or even both!” Nu-Supreme took a minute to process this information, and much like his earlier conversation with King Supreme the Fifth, he gave a nod, raising his eyebrow. “Fascinating. How many Diana Danes have been there?” “Hundreds of them!” Squeak answered, gesturing to a pair of kids chasing each other; they both appeared to be about six or seven, the boy dressed in what looked to be a homemade version of the same costume all the other Supremes wore, his platinum-blonde hair styled in a sort of forward spike; the girl was dressed in a grey skirt and green shirt, her dirty blonde hair tied in a ponytail. She also was sopping wet from head to feet, and she certainly didn’t look too pleased about it. Nu-Supreme blinked once or twice to make sure he wasn’t seeing things - if he didn’t know better, these two kids looked like they had stepped out of a Sunday comic strip; their eyes appeared to be nothing but black (or bright blue in the boy’s case) dots, and the thick black outlines that seemed to form around them. “Take these two for - yeerk! - example. Nu-Supreme, meet Dainty Diana and Small Supreme!” The two kids stopped and turned to look at the Mouse of Might. “Dainty Diana and Small Supreme, this is Nu-Supreme!” “So you’re the newest guy, huh?” Small Supreme asked excitedly. Nu-Supreme nodded. “So what’s your story?” At this, Small Supreme grinned. Dainty Diana rolled her eyes in exasperation. “Oh, you had to get him started…” she muttered under her breath. Small Supreme waved her off dismissively, much to the girl’s irritation. “Relax - everyone wants to know about me!” “Yeah,” Dainty Diana continued muttering; after what had occurred not just a few minutes ago, she was in no mood for Small Supreme’s antics. “All of your single-digit fans.” “I didn’t hear that!” Small Supreme insisted, before regaining his train of thought. “Where was I…oh, yeah, me! So anyways, my continuity was…kinda weird. I didn’t have any real superpowers, so to speak.” Putting a finger to his chin thoughtfully, Small Supreme reconsidered his words. “Actually, it was kinda ambiguous, wasn’t it, Diana?” The girl nodded, her anger put aside for the moment. “It was - though nobody outside you believed any of it was real.” “Then how do you explain things like Radar not being where I left him and Darius Dax’s inventions working despite being made from cardboard?” Small Supreme retorted. “Because as far as we knew, Radar was a stuffed dog and Darius Dax was just a bully who liked giving you a hard time!” Dainty Diana shouted back, putting her hands on her hips. “Remember the Supremium Incident?” “THAT WASN’T ME! THAT WAS DARIUS DAX!” Small Supreme shouted, and almost immediately the two of them began arguing like…well, kids. They walked away, their shouts overlapping the other’s; Nu-Supreme, Squeak, Disco Dazzlin’ Suprema and Sir Supreme stared as the two kids disappeared into the distance. “Kids, am I right?” Disco Dazzlin’ Suprema said, chuckling. Nu-Supreme nodded in agreement. “Honestly, I’m glad Emily and I haven’t had kids yet. Much as we’d like, I honestly think both our careers take up too much time.” he said. The three other Supremes turned to look at him. “So you -yeerk!- don’t have a Diana Dane or Judy Jordan in your continuity?” Squeak asked with interest. Nu-Supreme looked at the mouse with a raised eyebrow. “I know Diana Dane, certainly, but she and I aren’t dating. I already said I was married, didn’t I?” Nu-Supreme replied, holding up his right hand to show off his ring, a simple gold band. Squeak, Disco Dazzlin’ Suprema, and Sir Supreme stared in awe. “Well, Ich'm not surprised, mousæ ophe mighÞ. If wẹ̄-self supremeſ can havæ othē̆r arch-villainſ in our continuitī̆se asidæ from th' Daxes, then hǒu 'ſ bihofþe saī wẹ̄-self 'ī̆ple havæ th' samæ lǒveship interestſ everī sīquār?” Sir Supreme pointed out. Squeak considered the knight’s words as he bit into his limburger and turkey sandwich supreme, and nodded. “I suppose you’re -yeerk!- right, Knight of Kindness!” the Mouse replied. “Continuities are funny like that, y’know?” Nu-Supreme spoke up. “I was gonna ask about that Dax thing. Sir Supreme mentioned a Dax, and Small Supreme mentioned a Dax. Are Daxes common?” “Not necessarily.” Disco Dazzlin’ Suprema spoke up. “My arch-villain was the fashionable yet dastardly Linda Loki.” Disco Dazzlin’ Suprema patted Nu-Supreme’s shoulder. “I wouldn’t worry about it. You probably don’t have a Dax in your continuity.” “So what’s your story?” Nu-Supreme asked. Disco Dazzlin’ Suprema blushed, shaking her head. “You really don’t wanna know, it’s kinda stupid…” “Come on,” Nu-Supreme teased. “Tell me.” Disco Dazzlin’ Suprema was saved from embarrassment with the timely arrival of Supreme-of-the Future; a bald-headed man with a rather large brain. He was followed by two other figures, a pale (bordering on almost clear) horse - or perhaps a pony, given her size, with a long white mane slightly curled at the ends and blue eyes, her particular costume designed to fit her quadruped frame. The other appeared to be a living, bleached-looking kitchen sponge, his own costume and hair awkwardly fitting around him - if Ethan didn’t know better, it almost looked like this particular Supreme was rather ill-conceived, with almost no thought put into him. “Hey, Supreme-of-the-Future! We’ve been looking for - yeerk! - you!” Squeak greeted. Supreme-of-the-Future gave the mouse a nod, then turned to Ethan. “Ah, you must be the latest Supreme variation, yes?” Ethan stammered. “Y-yeah, that’s what they keep telling me.” He looked over at the pony and sponge. “Who are those two?” The pony let out a small squeak of fright, hiding behind Supreme-of-the Future. The latter chuckled, ruffling her mane. “It’s quite alright, Supremare - this is merely the latest incarnation.” Supreme-of-the-Future said to the pony. Leaning close to Ethan, he whispered, “She’s rather shy and does not get out often.” Ethan nodded, and gestured to the sponge. “Who’s he?” “I’m Sponge Supreme!” the other figure replied, eagerly shaking Ethan’s hand. “Were you revised recently?” “Actually, that’s what we were wanting to talk to you about.” Ethan replied. “I haven’t been revised. In fact, apparently I’ve been here to the Supremacy a couple of times before.” Supreme-of-the-Future put a pair of fingers to his cranium in contemplation, closing his eyes in deep thought. “Hmmm, yes, so I have heard. Could you elaborate on that? If you were not revised, then how did you come across the Supremacy?” Ethan answered without hesitation. “I came here in my dreams - in fact, that’s what’s happening right now; I’m dreaming.” Supreme-of-the-Future’s eyes sparkled with realization. “Yes, of course! The Supremacy, and by extension us Supremes, exist in a realm outside space-time! So perhaps you were subconsciously accessing it through your dreaming.” “I gathered as much,” Ethan spoke up. “But how do these revisions work?” “Ah, I believe I explained this to your predecessor 90s Supreme; there are two schools of thought: when the first Supreme, who incidentally you must meet at some point, was revised in 1941 - or perhaps I should phrase it as his 1941, the idea of linear time is irrelevant since the universe is constantly being reborn and destroyed every time a Supreme gets revised - his energies resounded throughout the universe, causing it to recur in an infinite cycle of life and death. Alternately, there is the idea that the universe has always been this way and that we as Supremes are the first to notice.” Ethan regarded Supreme-of-the-Future’s words carefully, before the latter amended, “But who can say? Either of those two ideas could be incorrect, and perhaps it’s a bit of both. In any case, however, I advise you not to think about this whole thing too deeply. You are the center of your own story, Nu-Supreme. Ensure it is a good one.” With that, Supreme-of-the Future walked away, followed by Supremare and Sponge Supreme; the trio sat at a table a bit away from Ethan, Squeak, and Disco Dazzlin’ Suprema. The latter trio soon fell into idle chat, until their conversation was interrupted by the sound of a whinny. They - and by extension the whole Supremall - looked up to see 90s Supreme and King Supreme the Fifth in a chariot, being pulled by a flying horse, this one of a much more realistic appearance than Supremare and wearing a more ornate version of the cape common to all Supremes. Squeak bolted out of his chair, as did Ethan and Disco Dazzlin’ Suprema. “Your Majesty! 90s Supreme!” Squeak exclaimed. “You -yeerk!- finished your discussion already?” “Indeed we have, Squeak.” King Supreme replied. “90s Supreme and I are here to bring Nu-Supreme to the Palace to see him off.” “Are we not doing a Fly-By?” Disco Dazzlin’ Suprema inquired, tilting her head quizzically. “No, no, that was just a one-time event for 90s Supreme due to him discovering the Supremacy before he was revised, if you remember.” King Supreme replied with a chuckle. “Besides, even if we had a Fly-By for every Supreme that came here, then it wouldn’t be a special event, now would it?” Disco Dazzlin’ Suprema nodded in understanding. “Even if it’s just a private sendoff, can Squeak and I at least come with him? I feel like in such a short span of time, all three of us have become the best of friends.” “Yeah!” Squeak interjected. “It’d be rude to not at least -yeerk!- say goodbye before he leaves!” “Oh, alright.” 90s Supreme said as he and King Supreme got into the carriage’s front seat. “Come along then. You too, Nu-Supreme.” Ethan nodded, climbing into the back of the carriage. “Now, onward, Sirius, to the Palace!” King Supreme commanded. “Yes, Master. I hear and obey.” the horse telepathically replied. With that, Sirius the Stallion Supreme trotted forward until he began to float upwards; Ethan looked over the side of the carriage and noticed the ground getting smaller and smaller until it disappeared completely. Now that they were aloft, Ethan could only now appreciate the breathtaking void that surrounded the Supremacy. That still left him with a lingering question, however. “Where, exactly, are we?” he asked. “Supreme-of-the-Future mentioned that the Supremacy exists outside of space-time.” “Well,” King Supreme explained matter of factly, “the Supremacy encompasses the entirety of the dimension called Limbo. We keep the light entirely polarized so we can switch from day to night.” “But we only do so for special occasions, like the Fly-By for when I first came here.” 90s Supreme added. From below, Ethan could see every conceivable version of Supreme flying to and fro, along with every love interest, sidekick, and supporting cast, each one different and unique; Squeak and Disco Dazzlin’ Suprema pointed out each one to him - Captain Supreme, the Three Seargeants Supreme, a massive statue-like creature called Macrosupreme, a miniscule antlike Microsupreme, a lion-headed Fifties Supreme (who was suffering from the effects of Supremium, whatever that was), and even a Burtonesque Gothic Supreme brooding in some far corner of the Supremacy, talking in a circle with Grim 80s Supreme. Finally, the group landed at the entrance to the Supremarch’s Palace and followed King Supreme to his throne room. To a newcomer like Ethan - or Nu-Supreme, he mentally noted - the sight was breathtaking. What immediately caught his eye, however, was the large metal rectangle propped up against the wall. “Your Majesty,” Ethan asked, gesturing to the object in question, “what is that?” “This,” he replied with a flourish as he and 90s Supreme stood on either side of the object, “is a Golden Gate, created by 90s Supreme before he was revised.” “This little gizmo allows travel between reality and the Supremacy.” 90s Supreme explained. “It came with me when I was revised, and now I figured I’d give it to you.” “M-me?” Ethan stammered out. “I don’t know what to say.” He then reconsidered his statement, and then said, “Why me?” “Well, we figured you’d need some help figuring everything out, seeing as you didn’t realize you’ve only existed for such a short time.” King Supreme informed helpfully. “So 90s Supreme is giving you his Golden Gate so you can travel back and forth whenever you’d like!” Immediately, Squeak and Disco Dazzlin’ Suprema began cheering in excitement. “That means we won’t have to be apart for very long!” Disco Dazzlin’ Suprema said. “Yeah!” Squeak replied, quickly pulling out a scrap of paper and scribbling something down. “Here’s my address! Next time you come by, be sure to stop and say - yeerk!- hello!” Ethan smiled, taking the slip of paper and placing it in his pocket. He suddenly felt Disco Dazzlin’ Suprema pull him into a friendly hug. “Don’t worry,” Ethan told her once she let go. “I’m gonna come back.” “I know.” she replied. “It’s just…I don’t have too many friends, besides Squeak.” Ethan kept his reassuring smile. “Well, I’m happy to call you my friend, DDS.” At this, Disco Dazzlin’ Suprema snorted. “DDS? You make me sound like a dentist!” Disco Dazzlin’ Suprema let out a giggle. This caused Ethan to laugh too, and soon enough it spread to everyone in the room. Once the fits of laughter died down, Disco Dazzlin’ Suprema (Ethan noted to himself he should probably call her something else to ease the mouthful, and moreover something that didn’t sound like a dental practice) also scribbled down her address for Ethan. Once he put it in his pocket, he turned to face the Golden Gate. “Are you ready to go?” 90s Supreme asked him. Ethan took a deep breath, and nodded. “I’m ready.” King Supreme nodded, and extending his fingers forward in an open-hand motion, had several golden beams spring forth from his fingertips, slowly they began forming into a golden swirling vortex that eventually grew to cover an entire wall - or two, rather - of the throne room, with a staircase jutting out that seemed to almost defy logic; it consisted of 19 steps, each carved ornately with various pictures of various Supremes throughout the hundreds of various revisions. As Ethan began walking up the steps, he realized he almost forgot the artificial Golden Gate that 90s Supreme gifted him. Hoisting it onto his back with all his strength, Ethan found it barely weighed anything. Turning to the others Ethan waved. King Supreme waved back, with 90s Supreme giving a thumbs up. “Don’t worry.” 90s Supreme assured him. “You’re going to do great. Just remember - you are Supreme.” His confidence boosted, Ethan made his way to the vortex, taking a deep breath before stepping in. Feeling his very molecules stretch like bubblegum, Ethan was overcome with a sudden feeling of nausea as he fell through the vortex, letting out a terrified scream as he shut his eyes. Just as suddenly, however, he immediately felt himself falling onto a hard surface, feeling the cool breeze of the night over his skin. Slowly getting up, Ethan noticed that he was outside; his brain immediately began searching for answers as to how he’d gone from his comfortable Omegalopolis apartment to an unknown location, though his attention was immediately diverted as to where “here” was. Though it was dark out, Ethan immediately noted that there seemed to be lights shining on the outside of the large, castle-like citadel where he stood. He appeared to be standing on a balcony, overlooking a lush garden full of all sorts of familiar and unfamiliar plants, before a massive door with a keyhole; not only that, but the citadel appeared to be surrounded by a cloudlike cover; possibly for some sort of camouflage. Though the citadel was unfamiliar to him, he had the strangest feeling that he knew how to open it - rubbing his hands together at supersonic speed, a loud KRAKA-TOOM sounded from his hands and a single lightning bolt sprang forth, hitting the keyhole with apt precision. As if they had not been opened in years, the doors swung forward with a loud, aching groan, Ethan seeing nothing but darkness. Unsteadily walking forward, Ethan noted yet another set of stairs, this one seeming to never end. Slowly walking downwards, he began to explore this place, this Citadel; though he still had no idea what this building was, it seemed intimately familiar; perhaps this was that “backstory” the other Supremes were talking about. Turning a corner, Ethan entered what appeared to be a laboratory, filled with all sorts of equipment and computers that blinked and beeped, as if they hadn’t stopped working for decades. Admiring it all, Ethan was immediately snapped out of his reverie by an unfamiliar - and yet all too familiar voice. “Hello, Master. It’s been a long time, hasn’t it?” Ethan immediately jumped, the Golden Gate very nearly clattering to the floor. Before him stood a tall figure that looked just like a Supreme, yet something just seemed…off, almost mechanical about him. The figure smiled warmly, as if he’d been looking at an old friend. “W-who are you?” “Don’t you recognize me, sir?” the figure asked. “I’m S-1, your most faithful Suprematon.” ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------ Will the Platinum Paragon figure out the answers to his mysterious past? Who is this S-1, and what is this strange citadel that is obscured by clouds? Has Supreme fallen into a trap? If so, why does it seem all too familiar to him? Find out, in the next exciting “Supreme: The Ivory Icon”... The Coming of Supreme!
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