Work Text:
“Alright, cut!” The cameraman shouted as soon as Supa finished throwing the objects on the floor.
“Do you want to see the recording?”
But the question never quite registered. Supa’s gaze was locked into the single object that had been left on the counter: a potted plant.
Everything. I must throw everything on the floor. It’s the only way.
A loud crash echoed within the room.
“Supa, no!” A little too late, the cameraman rushed to stop him. “I told you, not the…”
His words were interrupted by Supa’s tight grip on his shoulder. Before he could even process it, however, he had been launched into the floor. Supa’s eyes ran through the apartment, in search of any objects he could get his hands on. As soon as the filming equipment entered his field of vision, he walked up to it, promptly knocking all of it off.
Not enough. Must throw everything.
With only one thought in his mind and a face showing nothing but mechanical determination, Supa headed out of the apartment, knocking off on his way everything he could find: framed pictures on the walls, lamps, random objects lying on counters, the furniture said objects were lying on… not a single entity was left unthrown.
“What’s all that noi… huh???” Upon returning to the entrance hall, Zeph was greeted with a terrifying sight: every single object thrown on the floor while an expressionless AD carry approached, rapidly and ominously. Before Zeph could even react, he was already headed to the floor. “Someone stop him!” He shouted. But it was futile, for Supa could not be stopped, not until he had thrown every single thing he could possibly throw.
He finally reached the door but, instead of opening it, he ripped the handle out and threw it on the floor. He felt, however, no frustration upon seeing he could no longer open it: before he could feel anything at all, he was already tackling the door, causing it to crash on the floor. He entered the elevator and plucked out each and every button before throwing them and proceeding to do the same with the wires that were now exposed. But alas, the elevator was now no longer functional, which meant he had to take the stairs. The door leading to the staircase was also knocked down, followed by the handrails. Supa then reached the ground floor and continued to throw doors on the floor until he was free.
And, so, the threat had been unleashed on the streets of Berlin, ready to throw everything he came across.
The first thing Supa saw once he was outside was the traffic lights. He knew what he had to do: pull it out of the ground and throw it on the floor. The drivers, confused, began to crash their cars, but Supa knew the solution to this: he grabbed in his hands each one of the cars and threw them on the floor. Then, he threw the lamp posts and benches. It was not enough.
He then set out to continue his journey. However, the sound of sirens was growing ever closer and louder, police officers confused as to how one single person could have thrown lamp posts, streetlights and even cars on the floor, all on his own. Not knowing what to expect, they left their cars with guns in hand, but their bullets were no match for Supa’s unyielding determination to throw everything on sight – and out of sight too, as they were too fast for eyes, but not too fast to be caught and thrown; nothing was safe from being thrown.
The police officers weren’t strong enough to keep their guns from being seized and thrown. They were also not strong enough to keep themselves from being seized and thrown. Supa then climbed up on their police cars and ripped the sirens out one by one, before throwing them all on the floor. The people around him felt relieved, as the sound of the sirens was very annoying. Supa threw their relief on the floor as well, along with the people who felt it and the cars he had climbed on.
It was, in fact, quite confusing to think he could throw such an abstract concept as “relief”, but such confusion is no more: Supa has thrown it. Supa then threw every law that defines what he can or can’t throw. Supa then throws the past tense on the floor as well. No, dear reader, we are not breaking the fourth wall. Supa is throwing the fourth wall.
Supa now sees himself in a strange, all-white world, with the exception of the words. He throws the words. He throws each and every one of the text formatting tools and then the Word document they were in. He throws the anime character in the wallpaper image and then he throws the author’s computer. However, he is not restricted to it – he sees the website where the story is published. He throws the website, the URL and the internet itself, as a concept. He extends his hands to the reader on the other side of the screen – which he also throws – and grabs you, then launching you into the floor.
Supa sees the line between this story and material reality. He throws the line on the floor. He throws the absurdity of seeing material reality while being in a story about someone that exists in said reality. And, as soon as he discovers that there is a version of him that exists in this reality, he quickly rushes to him and throws him. However, throwing the “him” in material reality isn’t enough.
Supa holds material reality in his hands. He then runs into a problem: floors are part of material reality, which means he’s not quite sure where to throw it. He then imagines a hypothetical floor, where he throws that problem. Now, without any more problems, he throws material reality on the hypothetical floor.
Supa now stands on the hypothetical floor. Now that he’s thrown both story, reality and the line that separates them, there’s only one thing left to throw. He closes his eyes and swings forward, finally smiling in satisfaction upon realizing that, as soon as his body crashed on the hypothetical floor, his mission would be complete.
He then came to a realization: as soon as he’s thrown as well, he would be reunited with all the objects, people, concepts and laws of the universe he threw, all put together in one place. Everything would, then, return to normal, as if nothing had been thrown in the first place. Therefore, he was certain that he would not throw the game against Heretics, for, if everything was thrown, nothing was thrown.
Supa smiled as he crashed on the hypothetical floor and, with it, on his own reality.
Finally, he thought to himself. Now we win.