The Good, the Rad, and the Snuggly

[Dr. McNinja]

Doc rubbed his forehead, where the Stormtrooper had hit him. Luckily, it wasn’t anything serious, but the force that the Stormtrooper was using certainly could have done a lot more damage. He would have to ask Judy to check him for concussions later.

Of course, if he would ever see Judy again. She didn’t seem to have come to the Omniverse, and frankly, he was sitting in a cell with the most deadly man in every single alternate universe. The man that Dr. McNinja had sworn to fight and kill.

“Doctor.”

Doc scowled at the other man in the cell.

“Radical.”

King Radical sat cross-legged in the cell, hands on his knees, back noble and straight, in the opposite corner of the cell from Dr. McNinja. They had been in this staring contest of wills for a few hours as the Stormtrooper craft hovered to wherever it was going.

“You know, where I’m from,” King Radical said, “You'd call me ‘Your Majesty.’”

“Yeah, well, where I’m from, I call you terrorist,” Doc replied with a scathing tone, “So consider ‘Radical’ a compromise.”

King Radical stifled a laugh. He then pulled something out of his robes. A wide cardboard box.

"Battleship?" he offered, "We use it as a form of divination in the Radical Lands, and we might as well pass the time."

The ridiculousness of playing Battleship with his mortal enemy befuddled the physician so much that he shrugged and nodded.

King Radical warily passed Dr. McNinja a board and two graphs. After a minute of tense silence, the two mortal enemies had prepared this round of such an intimate game. The danger in the room was set by a hair trigger that seemed to rest on their fingertips.

"After you," King Radical said. His voice was coated with spite.

After a pause, Doc called out, "L10."

"Lucky guess," Radical said. "Hit."

Dr. McNinja scribbled in the squares. King Radical thought for a moment. Dr. McNinja gripped his pencil so hard that splinters were entering his nails. Finally, King Radical inhaled a deep breath through his nostrils, and sighed.

“I want to ask you a question, Doctor.”

Dr. McNinja scowled, “Yes?”

“Why do you hate me so much?” King Radical straightened his sicknasty shades as he scribbled in the results.

"Because you're reckless and you don't have to answer to anyone."

The King shrugged, "Frankly, you're the same way. Ah, yes. It's my turn. F5."

"Miss. And I'm not going around blowing up doctors' offices," Doc snapped. "L9."

"Is this what your war on me is about?" King Radical scoffed, "Because the Cumberland mafia blew up your office without my permission?"

"There were patients in there!" Dr. McNinja shouted.

"None of them got hurt, and I rebuilt your office."

"No, you did not. It was Agent Bearclaw."

"Please," Radical sighed, "Agent Bearclaw worked for me."

Dr. McNinja frowned. Actually, that made total sense. Agent Bearclaw was transformed to be more radical than his original lame self. Only King Radical had that kind of power.

"Also. L9 is a miss."

"Well, either way, I know you're up to something," Doc snarled.

"A1. And how would you know this?"

"Hit," Doc muttered, "You told me."

King Radical raised one eyebrow, and moved nothing else.

"Your future self told me," Doc explained.

"Ah, yes. After you activated Chuck's time jump," the King said, "How was the future?"

"Terrible," McNinja replied, "The dinosaurs took over the planet. I10."

"Hit. I was afraid that would happen," King Radical nodded.

They sat warily for a few more minutes, staying as still as statues even when filling in squares. Dr. McNinja scowled.

"What were you up to?"

King Radical snorted. "Call your shot."

"Tell me what you were up to."

"I said, call your shot."

Dr. McNinja felt a certain apprehension in the air. He had asked this before, and did not receive a clear answer. Somehow, he felt that once King Radical told him, that Dr. McNinja had become a liability in Radical's business. He felt that knowing the answer to that question would kill him. No matter how Radical answered that question, Dr. McNinja felt that he would not leave this cell alive.

"A6. Now tell me."

Anticlimactically, King Radical sighed and rubbed his chin.

"You're like a broken record," Radical muttered, "Fine. I'll tell you. It's not exactly like I can pull it off anymore. I was going to turn Cumberland into a huge robot and use the resulting Radical energy to bring my kingdom into your universe."

Dr. McNinja blinked.

"Also, hit."

Doc marked a tally on his notepad. "Would that even work?"

"Oh, yeah, sure," King Radical said, "We turn cities into robots in the Radical Lands all the time. B7."

"Nope."

"Damn, that time I was sure..."

Dr. McNinja stared at his sheet. So far, the two of them had similar locations for their ships. All of their hits were in the exact same place; they also shared misses. At the moment, their board might have seemed to be the same.

Almost the exact same.

"Have you rigged this game?" Doc growled.

King Radical frowned, genuinely offended. "Doctor, in the Radical Lands, Battleship is a sacred ritual that takes place between two enemies in order to form a peace treaty or to continue war. Cheating in this game is sacrilege."

"Hey, I've never been," Doc snapped back. "There's no way I would've known that."

"Well, now you do," King Radical grumbled, "That being said, I can't help but notice that we have very similar boards."

The two squinted at each other, trying to catch some evidence of foul play. When both had decided that this was a clean game, Doc sighed.

"Well, you're about to win, anyways. I concede."

King Radical chuckled. "Excellent. I have vanquished my greatest foe. And now you must pledge allegiance to me."

Doc snorted. "We're not in the Radical Lands. Those laws don't apply."

"They seem to. After all, I think our game must've given us wise advice."

"And what advice is that, may I ask?"

"Give me your chart."

Dr. McNinja picked up his sheet of paper and handed it to King Radical. Behind those shades, Doc could tell his eyes were scanning the sheets rapidly. The King grinned.

"I see."

"What do you see?"

"Doctor, Battleship prophecies are delivered in the form of a visual pun. This... This prophecy is one I've only heard legends of."

"What's it say?"

"This prophecy marked the beginnings and the ends of the two Great Radical Empires, and even founded the Holy Church of Dunk-slam."

"And what does it say?" Doc growled through grit teeth. "Stop playing games with me. Just tell me what your shamanistic ritual says."

King Radical flipped the two sheets. The two had, in fact, put their boats in the exact same place.

"The Radical Lands are trying to tell us," King Radical announced, "that you and I... are in the same boat."

Dr. McNinja sat on the floor of the Stormtrooper Patrolship hull. He blinked unceremoniously, uncomprehending, then whispered, "You rigged a game of Battleship to make a bad pun?"

"No," the King grinned, "I rigged a game of Battleship to prove a point."

Doc choked up, throat strangled by the thought of such a sacred rite like Battleship had been ravaged thus.

"But..." Dr. McNinja choked, "you said... You said you would never cheat in a game of Battleship. You said so."

King Radical snorted. "Please. We would never use it for divination. Battleship is lame."

That was the last straw. Doc unsheathed his katana.

"Now that is sacrilege."

"Watch yourself," the Mountain Dew Monarch boomed, "You heard what the Stormtroopers said. We are going to be executed, and if we cause any trouble inside our cells, we would be disintegrated completely."

Doc flinched.

"Put your sword away."

Dr. McNinja scowled, then, to his utter humiliation, sheathed his katana.

"If we want to get out of here alive," King Radical whispered, "we have to work together."

"Never."

"Doctor, all I wanted for Coruscant was for it to see how radical free will can be. I had to stoop down to debate for basic rights like Freedom of Mad Skillz."

Dr. McNinja squinted. "That's not a real thing."

"Of course it is. Now listen. You and I will have to work together to escape. I only know one person in this Omniverse who has demonstrated to be sicknasty enough to survive the Radical Lands."

"Is that why you got one of your men to sacrifice himself?" Doc snarled. "To catch my attention?"

"George of the Wrestling Bacon Strips was a loyal servant," Radical pouted. "His murder was totally lame. But it was necessary to liberate Coruscant. It was necessary to enlist you."

King Radical stuck out his hand.

"Please," he whispered, "I need your help."

Doc scowled. He didn't like having to work with this terrorist, but at this point, there was no way he could escape Coruscant alive. So he clapped King Radical's hand.

"Until I get out of here alive."

King Radical smiled. "Until we get out of here.... partner."

"So that's what that feels like," Dr. McNinja thought.

They each slid their own fingers across the other's. When their fingers were no longer touching, their hands curled into fists. They lightly tapped each other's knuckles with their own, then, upon impact, withdrew their arms and made explosion noises with their mouths.