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. 

The End

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