CHAPTER SEVENTY NINE

LXXIX
No, really. Hades, upon finding out that Mischa was, if anything, a worse assistant than Saul, let him go. Having no friends or family, he simply wandered around aimlessly until he saw a house in ruins. Moving closer, he realized that there was, in fact, an epic battle occurring: a battle between his former friend and his former boss.

“Mischa!” cried Josiah. “Thank goodness you’re here. Help me defeat these fools. Then get my car washed, and pick me up dinner.”

When Mischa answered, he wasn’t trembling.

“No, Mr. Malum. I quit,” he declared. “I’ve decided to take control of my own life. This means not taking orders from you anymore.”

“Dammit Mischa, you can’t quit! I own you!” said Josiah, clearly panicking now that the odds continued to pile against him.

“You do not own me anymore. Oh, hello, Cyprus,” said Mischa, noticing his should-be wife for the first time. “Hey, are we getting married or what?”

“No. We’re teaming up to take down Josiah,” replied Cyprus, not taking her eyes off the Secretary.

“Oh, well that sounds good too. Hello Comrades!” he said, waving to John and Bill.

“Yes, hi, Mischa,” replied John. “All right then. All four of us will attack him at once; there’s no way he can stop that many people.”

“Don’t be so sure of yourself, mailman,” spat Josiah. “I didn’t become Secretary of Evil by not being able to fight four people at once, you know.”

“Perhaps you can fight four, Mr. Malum. But can you fight…eight?”

“Yes,” said Josiah. “Yes, I can fight eight.”

“Oh,” said Mischa. “Well, there are eight now.”

Indeed there were. The four-on-one battle was just about to begin, when who should appear but Magentabeard, along with the entire crew of The Pirate Ship! They were back from their adventures and ready for action, ready to come to the aid of their friend John.

“Arrggh, mateys!” yelled Magentabeard. “How be ye?”

“How did you guys get here?” asked John. "Not that I don't appreciate the help, but to be honest, I've sort of forgotten all about you."

“Yarr, a few hours ago we crashed into an iceberg and died, but on our way down to the Underworld we met up with Mischa here, and he told us that you all might need some help!” said Magentabeard. “Now, who’s the scurvy cur we need to teach a lesson?”

“The man made of metal, Comrade,” said Mischa.

The intensity of the battle with John had stripped some of Josiah’s flesh off; patches of his metal skeleton were now clearly visible.

“All you fools do is talk, talk, talk. I don’t care if there are four, eight, or a million of you; I won’t rest until you’re all dead! Then my evil plan shall commence, unchecked by you scum!” proclaimed Josiah. “Now die!”

He charged forward, directly at Ron Goldstein. Ron dodged and Josiah ran into what remained of one of John’s walls; then Magentabeard took out his pistol and fired off a shot, which did no damage thanks to Josiah’s metal bones.

“Arrgh, his bones are as dense as hardtack, mateys, and not nearly as delicious!” said Mischa. “We’ll have to find another way to kill him!”

“I know the way,” said John. “Magnetism.”

“Oh,” said Plank Walkin’ Pete. “I can control magnetism.”

“Yarrr, you can?” exclaimed Magentabeard. “Why didn’t you say so, you moron?!”

“You never asked. Sorry.”

Pete focused intently on Josiah, attempting to use his powers of magnetism to tear the man apart. Unfortunately, nothing at all happened.

“Oh. Guess I forgot how. Sorry.”

Josiah killed Pete, then turned to the rest of them.

“Who’s next?”