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After he and Mr. Wpnz had closed up the vortex that bent time and space, the two of them went spiraling in different directions into separate universes; their fates unbeknownst to the others.
Mr. Puzzles hadn’t seen him ever since. Yet years later, Mr. Puzzles had finally found a purpose in life.
No matter how hard he sought positive attention, no matter how many times he tried to make it big in the movie industry, he always managed to fail.
No matter how hardly he tried to seek companionship in others, he would only push them away even more. All relationships he ever had in the past were strictly professional. Leggie was just his sidekick; never, by any means, his friend. Meggie had shown him the light.
—And Mr. Puzzles had come to accept that.
He always succeeded, in a manner, but only when it came to being bad. He succeeded in being bad at succeeding. What a joke.
He threw his back over and hacked into the air, coughing and laughing as he realized what role he had been playing all along.
The fraud.
The menace.
Mr. Puzzles was always meant to be the villain, hadn’t he?
He already had a role and he didn’t realize it this entire time. The TV-headed man realized that to bring peace to himself, all he had to do was embrace it. He had to embrace his antagonistic role.
He was Mr. Puzzles, the villain of SMG4.
He won’t be a film director…. He will be a VILLAIN director!
Maniac laughs echoed throughout his dimmed, trashed up room.
…
He had compiled a database of all the villains he managed to hire and coordinate. They all shared similar goals and Mr. Puzzles was the master at executing them.
Sadly, he only had a handful of employees. So, when Bone Drone finally obtained the Universal Rift, Mr. Puzzles utilized it to the best of his ability.
The TV-headed man traveled universe after universe to find antagonistic fellows he could add to his ever-increasing collection of utterly bad people.
He found politicians and run-of-the-mill criminals, yes, but they were of no interest to him. He needed creative minds that entered with a BANG! Being a super villain was all about presentation, after all. It was harder than once thought to find someone villain-grade, at least by comical standards.
But the CTR man eventually found a world that was almost completely unoccupied upon first glance.
“Hello~? Any classical super villains here?”
He walked across the desolate place and found what seemed to be a building, crushed into tiny little pieces. There were blue emblems all over it and vaguely threatening phrases.
“Whoever you are, you certainly did a number on this place,” he noted.
Mr. Puzzles investigated the vandalized ruin and found a large vent that was greatly bent out of shape into something ovular.
“How queer.”
He clambered down the vent, losing his grip in the process and falling several feet down into an open room.
The first thing he noticed was a bulletin board filled with different directives and notes. It seemed to be separated into different sections, sorted by mission and mission type. Whoever made this seemed to be an assassin of some sort. It also proved that this world wasn’t totally barren of any life. Perhaps he just got unlucky and landed in an abandoned city.
“These look like the notes of someone truly villainous.”
Upon stepping a little closer, a camera popped out of the wall and scanned him. Its light turned red and it retreated back into its cemented confines. That probably wasn’t good.
Right when he made the decision to start leaving, Mr. Puzzle’s inexistent ears caught the sound of something pattering above his head. Something heavy knocked into the vent. The TV-headed man froze up in fear, then began to direct all the electricity within his body to his fingertips. He composed himself and held a finger gun to the area where the ‘villain’ might drop down.
Instead, he felt hands around his waist that adjusted his weight from being perfectly balanced to dragging down upon the gravity of being swung up. Mr. Puzzles was flung over the stranger’s head, then crashed down onto the floor, head-first.
A burning migraine seeped into his circuits as he twisted his body over so that he’d be lying flat on his back. Upon closer inspection of his face, the shadowy stranger recoiled and halted any further attempts at attack. The movie director’s mind came back to him after some quick rebooting and he got the chance to examine the metallic man before him.
Mr. Puzzles could tell he previously had hands before, but those hands were now replaced with huge multi-barrel guns that could probably switch out for a variety of other built-in tools. The man had glowing, golden eyes with pupils that were sharpened down to thin pricks; a row of sharp, yellow teeth; a tiny, x-shaped scratch above his left eyebrow; and two giant gun barrels for a hat that almost reminded him of a double pompadour. The knife hanging down from his neck grew further and further away. Mr. Puzzles leaned up as if to catch it.
“Do I… know you?” Even though the stranger asked the question, his eyes seemed wide and determined.
“Wpnz,” Puzzles finally responded.
“Mr…. ugh— Boxhead?” Wpnz asked as if he was genuinely begging for reminders of his exact name.
“Mr. Puzzles.”
“God, I’m so sorry! Man, Holy fucking shit, all of the names sort of just merged and mingled in my mind and…. Wow.”
He scratched his head with his gun hand, although it’s hard to tell if he actually itched his scratch.
“I must have snorted too much of that coke earlier. It’s… not really you, is it?”
His voice took on a more hopeful tone, taking the time to believe what he was seeing. A flurry of unknown emotions welded in his chest.
Mr. Puzzle’s felt constipated. Not in the literal aspect, just… in terms of his entire body. The electricity in his wires seemed to have clogged themselves somehow. The man was speechless.
“I thought you were dead.” The CRT almost whimpered.
“You thought I was dead?” Mr. Wpnz murmured. His voice would’ve been rougher but he had just been so astonished. His breath hitched and he scrunched his eyebrows between his index and his thumb, blinking multiple times not to succumb to the unexpected encounter. When his hand finally drifted away from his face, small dots of black motor oil made their way into his tear ducts.
The metal man had already accepted that he would never see Mr. Puzzles again. He had moved on. But here he was, now, before him. He took a deep breath and readjusted his gaze on the taller man.
Mr. Wpnz then locked his arm around Mr. Puzzle’s neck and unsheathed his actual hand on his other arm so he could noogie him properly; rubbing his knuckles vigorously across the surface of his head. The TV yelped in pain. “MAN! You’re looking good!”
Mr. Wpnz pulled away and his eyes trailed him up and down, getting a good view of Mr. Puzzle’s physique. He looked incredibly excited.
“How many years has it been?!”
The man shook his head, his swirling eyes turning into open dots. “Six?” Mr. Puzzles estimated; as he had been keen on counting.
“Or seven?” Mr. Wpnz proposed.
Mr. Puzzles scoffed, looking up in feigned tire and disgust. He covered his digital mouth and chuckled. The man before him smirked, then gasped.
“-And your face is so… animated! We finally getting good reception, ey?” He nudged Mr. Puzzles with his elbow. Mr. Wpnz couldn’t help but hug him again; if you’d call it anything other than a headlock.
Mr. Puzzles chortled and nudged him back, before swinging them around and separating them once again. His smile came back at full speed.
“Yes, and I see you’ve gotten a few upgrades yourself!”
The TV-headed man’s hand brushed against the walking weapon’s shoulder. Mr. Wpnz’s shoulder pads had two protrusions instead of just one on either side, and his facial features were a lot more smoothly sculpted. His animation was a lot more smooth too; his mouth matching his dialogue.
“I’m surprised you even noticed!”
“I do have a decent photographic memory with this CRT of mine.” Puzzles knocked on his head. “I totally don’t have a photo of you on my table or anything.”
Mr. Wpnz breath hitched and he pressed his fingers up to his eyelids again. Mr. Puzzles began to wonder if he was just in another one of his wacky Puzzlevision adventures. The metallic man’s shoulders jerked up: once, twice. That’s when the TV-headed man realized his old friend had been sobbing. “Goddamn.”
Mr. Puzzles didn’t know what to do. He just stood there and frowned knowing very well that he was the one who did all this. He is the one who made the stupid idea to time travel and create a rift in reality that required him and Wpnz to be separated from all of the others… and each other. Why wasn’t Wpnz more angry? Perhaps that is why he was breaking down right now, right before him.
Mr. Wpnz gradually spoke, “You’re one crazy man. One crazy, beautiful man.”
The sentient weapon trudged over to his kitchen counter and poured himself two mugs of the alcohol he picked up from his stool. “Want a beer?”
Puzzles muttered a ‘yes’ and they enjoyed a couple of sips at his rusty old table. Due to Mr. Puzzles’ freakishly long legs, he sat in more of a fetal position upon his chair.
As they were buzzing with conversation, Mr. Puzzles dazed back to the fact Mr. Wpnz had trouble remembering his exact name. Mr. Puzzles began to wonder if he had even thought about him at all. While Puzzles had made an entire altar for his late friend, rearranging it whenever he moved to a new location, Wpnz could have just entirely moved on since year 1. It hurt him to know, but wouldn’t you also gradually forget about someone you hadn’t seen in six to seven years? It’s unintentional of course, since you can’t help but forget to think about someone when you’re busying yourself with so many other errands and responsibilities. Wpnz had already been creating a life for himself, while Puzzles had been sulking in the ashes.
He was snapped out of his train of thought at the retained sound of his friend’s voice.
“Hey… and you got some more color on ya!”
Mr. Wpnz pulled on his red bow tie and snapped it back into place. The affected man laughed.
“I figured I needed a little more bedazzle.” Mr. Puzzles adjusted his tie and puffed out the sides, all smug.
Mr. Puzzles so desperately wanted to take Mr. Wpnz back with him. He wanted to rebuild all that they had lost ever since the incident. But there is no way Mr. Wpnz would leave a world that he had known for six to seven years, behind. Yet, it wouldn’t hurt to ask him the prime question.
“Hey, do you want to join an organization that I’m directing to spread mischief and chaos across hundreds if not thousands of galaxies?”