The star died; despite everything I did, everything I tried to do, that’s how this story is going to end, unless you listen to me this time.


Right, sit rep for those not keeping up and for my own meta-purposes. I’ve woken up dead, I’ve accidentally caused the outbreak of a zombie virus, I’ve fought a massive zombie bodyguard who turned into a weird love child of Dwayne Johnson, The Joker and Sid Vicious. I’ve defied death (TWICE) and got hit on by some hotty vampire with Frankenstein as an assistant. I’ve fallen to my death, defied it again, and got deep with a lycan. I’m starting to think that that last part might have been concussion.  Either way, I feel in control of all my faculties and I am at my endgame, or there abouts. Two parts stand between me and victory. I am completely shitting myself at the thought of getting hit by that monster again.

Ah well, I click my neck and head towards the nearest door; this was lucky as I narrowly avoided begin crushed by a 300-pound mammoth body that turned into Angel Delight as it reached the garden.

“That lycan is gonna be pissed!” I exclaimed, to nobody in general. I stepped closer to the large pizza wondering what the hell was going on. I recognised the green clumps of hair in the gloopy mess and realised I’d just been replaced in the job of eliminator. Denzel Washington was here! I looked up to the tower and spotted a small red blip in the hole in the wall and realised that either Denzel was looking into playing Ru Paul or it wasn’t that famed actor of such great films such as…

Shit, it was The Equaliser.


1954 steps later, I was standing in front of the vampiric angel who looked pretty pleased with herself. I saw no sign of the little man with the god complex but I’m sure that if I kick this door to swing back on itself…

“Owwie!” A faint voice cried behind the solid oak; found him.

“Very good, Mr Spy,” said the vampire as she glided towards the hearth. “I was not expecting you to make it back up here so thought I’d come do it myself. Never send a man to do a woman’s job, no?” She picked up a goblet of what I can only assume was merlot, as no self-respecting would be seen dead drinking blood before 12. “What in hell’s name are you wearing?!”

Ah, she had noticed my pit stop on the way up here. I had picked up a sword and shield with light armour and was pulling my best Zelda impression. His name is Zelda, right? Here was my Ganon; my endgame. Oh, and that last fucking closing line. Right, let’s bullshit our way out of this one like we always do!

I readied my sword, preparing to tackle the dragon of a woman. She was a very attractive dragon. Not like Smaug or Wales, but like the dragon in the Beowulf film in 2009. As I prepared to face what could possibly be my actual ACTUAL death, I remembered a night back at the academy; the place I had learned the tricks of the trade.

We sat around a hearth, not too dissimilar to the one in this very room, and we were talking to our commanding officer over a dram of liquid fire. He had been sharing old war stories and reminding us that once we leave, we were on our own. We were about to leave when Jenkins asked the commanding officer the question we had all been creating rumours about since we started the academy.

“Sir, how did you get that scar on your side of your head?”

He chuckled at this; something that we had not expected. He drained his tumbler and then cracked his knuckles. He stretched in his chair.

“Let’s just say this, my boys. One day you’ll find yourself fighting for your life and it’ll seem completely normal to you but to the outside eye it’s completely bonkers!” he chuckled again.

“What does that mean?” Asked Jenkins.

“I got this scar in a previous life. It was the reason I came to the academy, but not a student. I came as a consultant. I was held at gunpoint by a woman who was at large to the MI6 for stealing information. She wanted me to save the life of her pet badger in the middle of my living room.”

We looked at him in absolute shock and confusion.

“Now I know what you’re thinking, performing a vasectomy on a badger using your wife’s shoes with a gun to your head suggests a serious situation.”



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