The Overlord Saga
Vol I. Past, Present, Future
Chapter 8: The Second Play
It was approximately 3:55 p.m. when the main gates opened to reveal the Overlord’s army and the Overlord knew immediately that they were running late. It was a long complicated story, involving the Soul-Keeper misplacing the Overlord’s toothbrush (then again, everyone wondered why he even HAD her toothbrush in the first place, but that’s another story for another day), which resulted in something short of the Apocalypse. The Overlord did not like her belongings (although, in the actual sentence she said, she replaced ‘belongings’ with ‘things’) getting touched, and when she had yelled this across her domain, a few giggles, several snorts, and a raucous ‘that’s what she said’ (curtesy of Tinkerbell) had driven her almost off the deep end. If there was anything she hated more than a misplaced toothbrush, it was a snarky underling that thought he could be funny.
The Overlord stood in a silent, brooding rage with her scythe hung over her shoulder. Truthfully, the toothbrush hadn’t been the main reason of her anger, though, the other underlings could only theorize why she had chosen the toothbrush out of all things to get upset about. It was the Advisor’s belief that she was stressed out with the 200 soul donation to God that had her frazzled, though, the Ninja-Lord insisted it was the Insurgent Leader’s insults that were finally getting to her. However, the Soul-Keeper stated that the Overlord, in all of his many years of knowing her, tended to have these episodes once a month and had learned it was best to just give her some space and a large bar of chocolate. However, he did not dare say this to her face in fear of becoming the scythe’s next victim.
“You’re late!” the Insurgent Leader yelled, pointing directly at the Overlord.
“No. The Overlord is never late. She arrives... She arrives... Hell, the party starts when she arrives.” the Overlord retorted, “And thus, we may commence, my compact competition.”
“Short jokes? Really?” the Insurgent Leader yelled, drawing his sword.
“Hmph. Five minutes to prepare and talk to your generals,” the Overlord ignored him and turned to her Soul-Keeper. Grabbing him by the shoulders, she looked directly into his eyes and whispered, “Do you have it ready?”
“Of course! Microphone included,” the Soul-Keeper nodded.
“You’ll be doing it. My voice is a little sore,” the Overlord cleared her throat.
“Oh gee, I wonder why. Probably because you screamed your head off all morning,” the Soul-Keeper said sarcastically, then flinched at the Overlord’s piercing glare.
“I can make you suffer. Remember that,” the Overlord warned.
“Oh sure...” the Soul-Keeper remarked.
“I can demonstrate my ability right now if you’d like,” the Overlord said flatly.
“Baby, we can go to the Dungeon for that,” the Soul-Keeper said in a low voice, his hand sliding down his stomach. Automatically, the Overlord slapped the Soul-Keeper on the shoulder, then turned to face the Insurgent Leader.
“Ready yet?”
The Insurgent Leader gave a curt nod of the head and lifted Muramasa up with both hands. As the Overlord moved the scythe to where it was in both of her hands, the Soul-Keeper’s voice could be heard as the Insurgents and the underlings circled around the two combatants, “AND HERE IS THE FIGHT THAT WILL DECIDE FATE, DESTINY, AND THE FUTURE!”
“Those are all the same thing, Soul-Keeper...” the Advisor commented.
“THIS IS THE DUEL THAT WILL GO DOWN IN HISTORY AS THE FAMOUS DUEL OF THE MOST AWESOME EPICNESS! IT WILL BE IN TEXTBOOKS. IT WILL BE LEARNED OF. IT WILL BE-” the Soul-Keeper continued.
“Can we start now?” the Overlord asked.
“Oh fine, go ahead,” the Soul-Keeper replied.
The Insurgent Leader charged forward while the Overlord remained motionless except switching the scythe to her right hand only. She watched as he swung the massive sword at her head before ducking under the blade and leaping forward. The scythe in her right hand, she moved alongside the Insurgent Leader, swiping at his belt in one single motion. Slicing the belt apart in one blow and ripping a part of the pants, the scythe came within an inch of the Insurgent Leader’s skin, but didn’t touch it. The Insurgent Leader tripped as his pants slid down, causing him to stop his charge and look down in horror.
Almost immediately, a stereo brought by the Soul-Keeper began playing some popular rap beat. Grabbing a wireless microphone, the Soul-Keeper started rapping.
“Pants on the ground, pants on the ground
Looking like a fool wit’ ya pants on the ground.
Wit’ ya gold in ya mouth
Hat turned sideways
Pants hit the ground
Call yourself a cool cat!
Lookin’ like a fool
Walkin’ downtown wit’ ya pants on the ground!”
As the underlings began erupting in laughter, the Overlord stabbed the ground with the handle of the scythe and laughed, “It’d be bad form to kill a guy with his drawers showing. Have a wonderful day, Insurgent Leader.”
“You...” the Insurgent Leader hung his head as the Overlord trotted pompously by, laughing all the way. The Insurgent Leader watched, in horror, in embarrassment, but mostly in disbelief, some strange part of him wondering why the Overlord would ever want his pants on the ground to begin with. In a sudden outburst of rage, he grabbed Muramasa and swung at the Overlord’s back, watching as the longsword sliced her cape in horizontal halves.
The Overlord stopped in her tracks. Every underling knew instinctively to step back, the look in her eyes so menacing that it might’ve even caused the Devil to pee his pants. Turning on her heel, the Overlord glared down at the Insurgent Leader, then said, “You. Owe. Me. A. New. Damn. Cape.” She narrowed her eyes and pointed at him, “Got that, shortstuff?”
“You owe me new pants!” the Insurgent Leader protested.
“Your pants, my cape, which is more important? Yeah, that’s what I thought,” the Overlord snorted, then called, “Underlings, return to the Fortress. We’ll let the Insurgent Leader clothe himself properly before we steal his soul.”
“Aww, but that’s not as fun...” the Soul-Keeper began.
“Now!” the Overlord barked, then added, “I have a date with Jesus to make. And I’d rather not be late...”
As the underlings and the Overlord returned, the Insurgent Leader could be heard calling at their retreating backs, “I’ll get you for this, False One! I promise, you won’t get away with this!”
---
As the Overlord sat in her large armchair, a glass of tea in one hand, she stared at the bush in the corner of the room. Sitting in chairs by a table were the Advisor and the Soul-Keeper, who both had been urged to not talk during the entire meeting with Jesus. The Overlord explained that, while Jesus was very loving, he could be very by-the-book, the “book” being the Bible. Inhaling deeply, the Overlord lifted a hand, then cast a brilliant white flare of magic at the bush in the corner.
“Get Jesus for me,” the Overlord said to the bush, and a dialing noise could be heard from the bush.
“What’s that about?” the Advisor asked.
“You have to specify which higher being you want to talk to. I accidentally called Lucifer one day. We had a pleasant chat, yes, but it was still awkward. Especially since he claims that he wants me to join his side during the final days of the Earth. He really had the nerve to tell me that,” the Overlord remarked.
“Yes, child?” Jesus said on the other side of the holy phone-bush.
“Hello, Jesus, how are you?” the Overlord said pleasantly.
“I am well, and how are you?” Jesus replied.
“Now, now, I’d tell you I was fine, but I think that would be lying,” the Overlord answered lightly, rising from her chair with the glass of tea in her hand.
“I know what you came to ask me, child,” Jesus replied, “And I cannot grant you that favor.”
“200 souls is a lot to spare,” the Overlord protested, almost choking on a swig of tea.
“And you have that amount that you can spare,” Jesus replied.
“Yes, but I need them,” the Overlord responded stubbornly.
“Need them? Or want them?” Jesus asked in a very calm, professional voice.
“Need them!” the Overlord insisted.
“You see... I will tell you why God has done this,” Jesus replied, “You have grown greedy in these past decades, Overlord. And it is time you gave back to us what we have given to you.”
“What did he-?” the Advisor began, but was cut off.
“We gave you the powers that you have now. The powers that led to your uprising,” Jesus reminded the Overlord strictly, “We allowed the palace you live in to remain when it should have crumbled long ago. We did this... all for you. And now, you deny us 200 souls? Think of it as a rent for living here and having your powers.”
“Rent? The Overlord doesn’t pay rent!” the Overlord exclaimed, “This is ridiculous.”
“Call it what you must. We need those souls... and you cannot afford to lose us. Your spiritual life depends on us, does it not?” Jesus asked.
“I’ll see what souls I can spare,” the Overlord said sourly, “But this is still unfair. I shouldn’t have to give so much to you guys.”
“And we should not have given you those powers all of those years ago,” Jesus remarked.
“Whatever, Jesus. I’ll call you once I’ve made the transfer,” the Overlord replied and the fire in the bush suddenly went out. She turned and glared at the Soul-Keeper and the Advisor, her left eye twitching. “Screw that.”
“I wouldn’t say that to Jesus,” the Soul-Keeper warned.
“Overlord!” the Advisor gasped. “He’s Jesus Christ, you should be more respectful!”
“He should be more respectful of me! He owes me!” the Overlord yelled. “Well... Sort of... Okay.... Maybe not... Not really... Ughhh!” She slammed her fist down on the desk, causing Nard to jump from where he was asleep by the fireplace. “I’ll deal with that later. Hmph...”
“Send Sexist and Tinkerbell. They’re useless, they’re disobedient,” the Advisor suggested.
“No, those two stay. I want them to suffer,” the Overlord scowled, “Advisor, I need you to take a census of the underlings here. Find the ones that serve me no purpose any longer. I’d like it after dinner sometime tonight.”
“That’ll take ages to complete!” the Advisor complained.
“The Overlord demands it!” the Overlord snarled, watching as the Soul-Keeper and the Advisor quickly left her office.
As the doors slammed shut behind them, the Soul-Keeper glanced at the Advisor, grinning behind his mask. He whispered, “I told you... Every... month.”
“Soul-Keeper!” the Advisor scolded, slapping him hard on the shoulder, then stalking away to go start the census.
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