HROT 2: Brink of Annihilation

Prologue

A ripple of chaos echoed throughout the universe.  Unrest was abundant wherever you went.  War, violence, and treachery were seeping into every corner of the world.  Tired Kitty was dead, leaving the inhabitants prone to conflict.  The Doctor was slain as well, allowing inter-dimensional travel, which was becoming an increasing problem as more and more inter-dimensional beings were raiding the universe and wreaking havoc.  No matter where you looked, the fate of Harout's creation was bleak.

Upon the sleeping Creator's galactic mattress, two figures still raged in a bitter conflict.  Blazing A, last living god of Harout's dimension, held back the ongoing laser blast, which was coming from the tubby titan known as the Warnger, who was determined to awaken Harout Doumanian and bring an apocalyptic end to the universe to avenge his fallen son.

"You'll never get past me!" Blazing A exclaimed as he desperately blocked the laser firing from the Warnger's modem belly.  "Stop this meaningless assault and go back to your home!"

The Warnger snickered.  "I see you weakening, A.  Eventually, your strength will give out, and you will die, and I will bring this universe the justice it deserves."

Blazing A gritted his teeth.  The Warnger was right: His strength was giving out.  Tears seeped down his face as he hoped and prayed that his son and friends would come to assist, before the fate of the universe was out of their hands.

Down on HROT, capital planet of the universe, the mood was somber.  It was nighttime in the woods, and crickets chirped near a house by the river.  In the backyard, a congregation of weary soldiers gathered around a great pile of wood, upon which two bodies were lying.  One was a young lady with long brown hair and an ugly gash in her neck.  The other was a chunky young man with a thin hole carved through his belly and out his back.

Two living men stood over the corpses, their hands folded as they prepared to address the group of seven standing at the foot of the woodpile. One of them, a taller fifteen year old with brown hair, spoke first. "It's with heavy hearts that we must gather here today to commemorate the lives we lost in the war with Pore," he said. He was Tony Ogle, son of Tired Kitty and slayer of Pore's field commander and closest friend. He had led the group's forces into battle and fought valiantly.

The other man was a shorter eighteen year old with darker brown hair. His eyes were sullen and weary as he spoke. "We lost six good people in the war: Alex Katz, Jamie Bond, David Byland, Robert Desrosier, Cheesecawk, and"—he choked on his words momentarily—"Scott Foreman. In addition, we also lost Tony's cat Cuntessa and Jamie's horse Gober. Unfortunately, we have only been able to recover the bodies of Jamie and David, but this funeral is for them all." He was Kyle Taylor, son of Blazing A and the key to the war with Pore, as Pore had captured him and tortured him, prompting his dear friends to come to the rescue. He was still skinny and frail from his time in captivity, and he looked visibly weaker than normal, but he did his best to hide his discomfort.

The audience's demeanor darkened even more. Those seven people were Leon Dovesi, Kieran O'Neill, Alicia Katz, Michael Yacovetta, Crunk, The Fosters, and Hovermind. Ass Cat, Tony's surviving cat, leapt onto a tree stump and mewed as he watched his master on the pile.

"They should still be here," Alicia remarked bitterly. Her eyes were moist as she thought of her brother Alex's violent demise.

"Yes, they should," Kyle agreed. "They all deserved better than what they got. Regardless, they laid down their lives so the rest of us could live, and we will not allow them to be forgotten."

Tony raised a torch, and Kyle did the same. "We owe everything we have to these warriors," Tony said, "and now, we put them to rest." With that, he and Kyle dropped the torches upon the pile, and as the fire was set alight, they both leapt from the pyre and landed among their friends.