Names mean nothing to me anymore - not after all the ones I heard for me.
Sherrinford Armstrong, a version hiding away in a mountainous retreat who fought monstrosities from beyond.
Maven Braunze, some subterranean mage with a gung-ho attitude whose world fell into nothingness.
A cosmic pilot on the brink of death, navigating around black holes with a battered technologist.
Doctor Zodiac, an adventurer with a band of merry maniacs out to save the world from villains too hammy to believe.
Do you see now?
At the centres of them all, I saw a face.
A high rising widow's peak, dark hair, gleaming dark eyes and a deranged grin - a face splitting into fractals of his own various incarnations, and a name uniting them.
A mad god, a poet, a screaming lunatic, a master and a slave to a mental multitude.
But still the same core.
Now, I feel that this had reached the necessary conclusion.
Apologies, but I doubt that dessert will do either of us good.
Look - out there.
The sun is rising.
Time to close this chapter, and start anew.
Farewell. I do hope you enjoyed the meal.