Welcome to the Restaurant. Feel free to wander the halls or take a seat in the bar. If you'd like a table for yourself, simply ask a waiter. Our windows give excellent view of the End, wherever in the Restaurant you are.

John, the bartender, the proprietor, the sole owner of this oddity of an eating place, scrutinised the pane of glass from which those phrases were hanging on. It was a very well-made sign, very modern, assuming the customer came from any point in time before a 21st Century in which Earth is still a planet, because otherwise it would look rather gaudy. Either way, it wasn't the material he was bothering with---the decoration in the place was hodgepodge of so many styles from so many age, nothing is gaudy if you don't stare too long at it---but the words. Are those really the best words he could muster? But how else to make people feel at ease in a place where you can watch the End of the Universe right outside the window? The food is nice, he supposed. Anything anyone can think of, his cooks can make. And the drinks are excellent, of course, because he's serving them.

He sighed, and decided to continue cleaning the bar instead of bothering with the sign. It's pretty quiet that day. Only a couple of customers on the tables, mostly humans and humanoids, although there's also that group of Eeldritch horrors taking up a big table in a faraway corner, busy with themselves. He tried to eavesdrop on them earlier and was quite disappointed to find out that they were simply playing cards, not planning an apocalypse.

No one was at the bar for him to serve, which was a bit of a shame. He kind of wanted someone he could listen to.

He wondered what the day is going to bring him.

Well, the first thing it brought him was an explosion.

A boom rippled througout the restraunt, complete with a flash of blue light, and a figure fell through onto the floor, mid-scream. It hit the ground hard, the faceplate of its helmet cracking the tiles of the floor, the figure rolling to its feet, akimbo guns held out at the rest of the room.

"Huh. Not... Not what I expected purgatory to be like to be honest." The voice was synthesised and crackly, but when the guns vanished and the figure took her helmet off, it was replaced by a rather... handsome? Handsome was perhaps the right word, despite the fact it was a woman under the helmet. Human too- with dark brown hair, tanned skin with soot marks on it, an angular jawline... Yes, handsome was the right word.

Taking in a deep breath, the figure dusted herself down, scattering soot and dust across the floor, before standing up properly, giving an awkward wave to the patrons, before looking around and realising she was in a... diner in outer space? Well, not the strangest thing she'd ever seen...

Walking up to the bar, she placed her helmet down on it and tossed her hair back, plopping her gloves inside said helmet, followed by two metal... 'Blocks' was the best thing to call them, carefully placing them inside the entire setup.

"Hi, sorry for the mess. Awfully sorry, but do you happen to know quite where I am, when I am, and do you guys have amarula? I need a fucking drink."

A huge blob dragon walked through the door "oh hey John who's that you are listening to" not waiting for an answer he said "the space time eddie waas a bit ruff today and I got sent to prehistoric earth before I got here. Soooo..... who's the... girl?... I guess

The bartender didn't even bat an eye at the newcomer's explosive entrance. He pressed a button behind the bar and a small drone-like robot popped in from a door in the back. It went straight to work fixing the floor, using its Alchemy-powered crane arms. It won't take longer than a minute.

In the meantime, John beamed his most welcoming smile and said his most well-practised words, "Welcome to the Restaurant at the End of the Universe. An amarula, you say?" He put the cloth he was using to clean down and glanced at the lines of bottles behind him. Their shapes and the marks stamped on them, if you notice at all, constantly shift in subtle ways. "I'm sure it's here somewhere. Just relax for now. You've had quite a day, haven't you?"

His sort-of friend the dragon blob popped in just as he went to look for the right bottle. John sighed. "Hello, Zig. She's a newcomer. Please don't bother her... too much." The bottle was right there in a corner, Amarula. He filled a glass and served it to the newcomer. "Here you go. I hope it's to your liking, Miss." He turned to the amoeba. "And what would you have?"

She looked with some interest at the drone, before realising she had seen similar to it constantly. Nothing new. The huge amobea... That... No, that was new. She had seen a lot in her trips around the known universe, but that was quite something. Maybe she had taken a knock to her head and was hallucinating. "Restaurant at the End of the Universe, huh?" She looked outside, watching as a hydrogen flare sparked and burst, bright blue light shooting across the... Well, 'glass' would have to do.

"So, I see they cracked a building-sized temporal bubble, huh." She shrugged, before taking the shot glass and downing it in one, the creamy liqueur burning pleasantly on the way down. "Hell yeah I've had a day. First the ship I'm infiltrating undergoes explosive decompression and I get blown out into space. Then I have to use my guns as a jetpack to get back inside, almost freezing to death."

"When I finally get inside, I kill my mark, and whaddayaknow, the fucking plasma generator of the ship is destabilised by the decompression, and I get caught in the blast. I mean, I've had shit luck, but really?" She indicated for the bottle to be passed over, before pouring out another shot and taking it. "On the bright side, I'm here now. This is a Restaurant, you guys serve food?"

The Authoress

She'd heard of this particular dimension. The Authoress peered at the sign in front of her. If she could feel anything, she would be mildly amused. Or perhaps not. Perhaps she would be horrified at the prospect of the End of the Universe. As it was, she did not feel anything as she stepped away from the sign, eyeing the rest of the place. It had only been a minute ago (at least, in this particular dimension) when she had stepped through a particular portal in the Randomer that she'd dismissed far too many times before finally deciding to approach. What she'd found was unexpected but not surprising in the least. She's been to stranger places.

There didn't seem to be many patrons. Nor were there any characters of which caught her interest immediately. The balance here was maintaining equilibrium; she had no need to work just yet. She wouldn't mind having a break. Time was abundant for her, anyway.

Shoving her hands into her cardigan's pockets, she debated heading for the bar or settling down at one of the many empty tables. She didn't make a habit of interacting with characters unless she was creating one of her stories manually but she also knew that interaction led to events and events meant more stories taking place. With that thought, she went over to the bar, sitting down a seat away from the woman suited in armour.

"May I have a coffee?" she said. Though her tone was polite, her disinterested expression made her seem somewhat bored. "I'll have it black."

"Hey John I'll have a whiskey and gin please" he said said with a wink. "And who might you be 'malady" Zig said with a mocking bow to a woman in a blue cardigan who had a ordered a coffee

The coffee grinder in a corner of the bar whirled to life on its own, as if it could hear the new customer's order. It took only a minute between that and a cup of steaming black coffee for the new arrival. "I see this is your first time here, Miss? Well, I hope you have a good time. If anyone is bothering you," he eyed the dragon amoeba, "just tell me about it."

John turned to the other newcomer. "That sounds exciting, at least! So what does that make you? An assassin? A bounty hunter?" He took a brief moment to check a panel under the bar, which told him that the generator is running just fine, don't worry about me. "We do serve food, of course. Anything you want in particular?"

For his too-loyal customer Ziggletrox the Destroyer, he barely noticed his hand serving the drink. Must be the millonth time he did it by this point.

The Authoress

She nodded to the bartender in response, her mug of coffee warming her palms. For a brief second, the Authoress idly considered discovering his name with a quick look through his mind but dismissed the thought as soon as it came. She preferred her experiences authentic and untainted from 'cheating' with her abilities, especially for such petty things.

The Authoress tilted her head towards the dragon amoeba, unperturbed by his derisive greeting. Here was the question that she had been wondering since she'd stepped into this dimension: was she the Authoress? Or did she want to adopt another personality to experiment for a bit? She already knew all she needed to know about this dimension the second she'd stepped into it; there wasn't much of a story to it but that was why she did the things she did. She could still establish herself as another mere character; she'd only just gotten here, after all.

Coming to a decision, she did a double-take before giving a tense, shy smile, her indifferent demeanour melting away. "I-I'm Sandra," said the Authoress, her grip tightening on the mug in her hands. Curling slightly into herself, she was the very picture of nervous awe, as though she was an ordinary person who had never seen a talking amoeba in her life. "Um. And...you are?"

"He's already being an annoying bastard is what he is. Zig, that's what the bartender called him." She waved her hand vaugley at the huge amobea. Seemed like a contradiction in terms, but here she was, looking at a giant amobea whilat pouring herself amarula shots. "Yeah, I'm a bounty hunter. Sandy FUCKING CAINE!" She clapped her hands loudly, before pouring herself her fifth shot.

"God I love this stuff, reminds me of home." She laughed to herself. "So, Sandra, how'd you get to this wonderful little temporal anomaly?" She tried pouring more liquer out, only to get a few dribbles, the bounty hunter relctantly dropping the bottle. "Give us another one please? I need to drown out the little voice in my head that tells me this is where you go when you die."

"Oh, and uhr... You guys do American Fries? Or chilidogs, sure fuckin' sonic over here."

"Hay speak to me with more respect, my name is Ziggletrox the destroyer and I used to destroy planets, but you can call me Zig.
Sandy FUCKING CAINE could you please stop dropping those F bombs"
And "Sandra" don't try to trick me, like you I'm immortal, I also have telepathy and John probably has figured out what I'm talking about, but I won't tell miss Caine"

"Okay, that's enough, Zig. Stop bothering her, please" John said sharply. It was a threatening sort of please, the sort you do not want to argue with, the sort that tells you he'll drag you out, screaming, if he has to, at the first sign of trouble. And all the regulars know he has the means to do it.

"And, Miss Cane." He turned to the bounty hunter, who seemed to be getting a bit too tipsy a bit too fast. Still, he couldn't help dangling the bottle in front of her. "I don't think another one of this is wise, do you think? Well, at least not now? But we do have, hmm," he took a second to check the panel under the bar. "'American' fries. And chilli dogs. I can have the boys whip them out quickly."

And now the girl. Sandra. No, she didn't look like a Sandra, but he wasn't going to question his customers. If she says her name is Sandra, and if she looks like a nervous, scared teenager, then by all means, she is a girl named Sandra who's a nervous, scared teenager. He smiled at her, in a way that he hoped would look comforting. "Sorry about these two. They're a bit on the rowdier side, apparently. Where are you from, Sandra?"

The Authoress

'Sandra' shifted uncomfortably on her seat, shifting towards the suited woman, who, despite becoming increasingly drunk, was decidedly the lesser of two possible dangers. She turned her attention towards her mug, letting the scent of fresh coffee grounds waft into her nose. Much to her relief, the bartender had intervened, thus excusing her from having to respond.

This was interesting. The Authoress had no problems if her cover was blown - this was, after all, a rather self-indulgent experiment. However, it was indeed rare for her to cross paths with a being that saw right through her mental guards. While she was certain that this "Ziggletrox the Destroyer" character did not possess the abilities that she did, she was also aware that she was not in the company of the usual characters who she would encounter in the dimensions she travelled to.

There was that feeling again. Something had been nagging at her ever since she'd entered this place, an underlying sensation beneath her thought processes. There just wasn't something right about this dimension.

A burst of yellow and green flared in the corner of her vision and 'Sandra' whipped her gaze towards one of the restaurant's more opulent windows, watching in wonder as the atoms collided against each other. She turned back to bartender, eyes widening at his needless apology. "Oh! No, no, it's alright! I'm a bit used to strange-I mean, people. People like these, I guess? It's a risk I'm fine with taking everytime I use my power, which is basically just walking between worlds or something like that." She allowed her attention to drift back to her coffee, hesitating slightly before taking a sip - which then turned into a gulp. As she set the mug back down onto the counter, the Authoress gave it an appreciative nod. That was some good coffee. Top-notch quality coffee that matched her multidimensional standards was pretty rare to find.

"Me?" said 'Sandra', looking back up at the bartender. "I'm from Earth. Well, obviously, not from the Earth in this world...universe? Where I'm from, humanity hasn't developed space restaurants yet." She tilted her head, adding an afterthought, "Though there's Chicken Invaders so I guess that's close enough."

"Hayo, sorry about that 'sandra', I haven't seen an immmortal being in ages. so what your 'story',
hehehe like my little pun. Hey, John could I have another whiskey and gin, oh and chilli chilli cheese burger" said Zig while thinking about the hitch hikers guide to the galaxy.

John, the bartender, sighed as he served another drink in front of the dragon amoeba. "You know sometimes I have no idea why I keep letting you have this. Keep thinking I might regret it someday. Or you will." Did that sound like a threat? Maybe he would have made it sound like one, on the first time that the perpetually drunk amoeba was here. At this point, John was just tired. "I'll get you a cheeseburger if you take a table. I don't want you making a mess on my bar again."

The girl, at least, seems nice. He gave her a smile. "Ah, Earth! That beautiful blue-green planet where things keep happening. How is it in your version of Earth? Any invasions? Alien technology? Magic? State leaders making fool of themselves? And what in the universe is Chicken Invaders?"

---

'...Our windows give excellent view of the End, wherever in the Restaurant you are.'

Cledwynn, the half-ghost construct abomination of the stars, read the words upon the panel of glass within his head. An excellent view of the End. The End of the Universe.

There had been stars for miles, and as time glazed over the mechaghost, each star began to look the same, much as how snowflakes, with exposure for years on end, would stop being vivid patterns resembling some old lady's crochet, and would start looking like no more than mere white dots against windows and roofs, combining with the rest of said dots and forming a bland mass of designs that, while intricate at a glance, became dull over time.

Space was no different. And neither was dying. But that was a different story for a different time, perhaps a different timeline and a different world.

If he could find one.

For now, though, his interest was thoroughly collected in spades like heaping pounds of trout flip-flapping against each other, all scooped up in a net the size of a junior mountain. From within, he could already see a few guests, monsters and humans alike. No spirits though.. perhaps, he wondered, there was a policy? 'No shoes, no shirt, no human body, no service'?

He laughed at the joke he told to no one in particular but himself as it resonated in his mind, and for a moment he had to think that no matter how absurd it sounded, it could have been true, even if by odds of 1% to a whopping 99%.

The metaspirit gave another look into the window, and despite having no lungs, he took a deep breath, deep enough to blow an unsuspecting pig's house down- if it were made of hay, at least- and placed a hand to the restaurant's door. He had the thought to barge in and make a dramatic entrance so that it would possibly hide the nervousness that was quickly building up, but he also knew that it could go badly.

Plus it just wasn't his style.

So, instead, he gently pushed the door open without a word.

From within, he could see others with greater detail, and somehow he could see the End of the Universe with much greater clarity.

Thus, as he took a seat for a moment, it was from that point on that he realized that this, this Restaurant of sorts, would certainly take him for a ride like any cordially casual-formal event should. He would of course have to actually talk to someone, or be talked to for that to happen, but he would get to that whenever it was time.

For now, he eyed the very innards of the Restaurant, and its patrons.

For now.

"Hi Cledwynn, how's it hanging."

The Authoress

"It's...alright," said 'Sandra', seeming unsure of her own words even as she uttered them. As far as she could tell, the...dragon ameoba? That seemed to be the right phrase to describe Zig. The dragon ameoba seemed harmless enough, if not a little too drunk from the way he was acting. She raised an eyebrow at his comment, bafflement evident in her eyes. "An immortal? What are you talking about? I'm barely past sixteen."

The Authoress could care less about another being knowing her true identity but he was starting to encroach on dangerous territory, from the pun he gave out. Well, no, calling it dangerous territory would be a little extreme but the Authoress liked taking extra precaution, especially when it came to protecting certain parts of her life from nosy telepaths. She supposed Erised could be considered one, if the younger girl wasn't already in the same situation as hers. She dismissed the thought from her mind.

As she took another sip of her coffee, the Authoress put up a few more mental barriers, forming an immovable mental stronghold. Honestly, it was no surprise that the ameoba had gotten as much information as he did. She'd grown lax in her time alone, managing the balance in different dimensions, save for the instances Erised would pop up just to make her work difficult. Still, telepath or not, possessing nearly all the powers the multiverse had to offer made her far superior whenever she wanted to, so she had virtually nothing to worry about.

Then again, stories with no problems were always dull.

'Sandra' grinned at the barkeeper. "You don't know Chicken Invaders? It's a game, kinda like Space Invaders but with chickens! As the invaders! My little brother can never put it down. I just like the graphics." The dimension itself, however, held nothing of interest for the Authoress. She preferred stories with more complexity, thank you very much.

"My Earth's pretty normal, actually. I mean, compared to the weird stuff I've seen in other 'Earth's, everything's really boring. The only 'magic' I've seen is my own power." Her expression turned thoughtful and she leaned forward with her elbows on the table. "I've been thinking about that. It's kind of weird that all my life, I'm ordinary, and then all of a sudden, I get this power. And that was last year! Maybe it means that there's something going on, some...magical thing that's happening to random people? Like in the cartoons, ya know?" She shrugged, leaning back.

"But nothing else weird has happened. I've just been messing around, travelling to other worlds when I'm bored and getting back from almost dying just in time for dinner." Tapping her fingers on the side of her mug in idle rhythym, 'Sandra' frowned at the coffee swirling sleepily in it as though she was thinking hard about something. She looked back up at the bartender, hesitated, before finally continuing.

"Well...something strange did happen today, though. All the worlds I've been to have always been alternate Earths, but I've never managed to travel to somewhere completely different. Like, in space." Her last two words were emphasised with a wave towards the windows. She paused. "What...happened to the Earth here?"

Meanwhile, the Authoress was slightly regretting the fact that she wasn't herself right now. She could sense a nearby planet folding into itself and it would've been a spectacular sight to see if 'Sandra' wasn't purposely averting her gaze from the windows.

"... Beg pardon?"

What did he just say? Wait a moment.. what WAS he? She? It. Whatever. The humble ghostagonist's devil's tails slumped before pointing at an angle towards the hulking, dragon-like creature thing that just called his name.

It actually really threw him for a loop. What if he was on a hit list via the god that cursed him, and this restaurant was just a big setup to lure him into a crowd of serial killers out to destroy him piece by piece, maybe for ransom or just the thrill of the kill-

He had to chuckle at this, and he did. His laugh came out as smooth as you would expect it to come from a half-spirit, and it was as shrill yet smooth as anyone could expect. The peculiar thing was that his voice wasn't the same way. He didn't sound demonic normally- perhaps he did that during his confused, somewhat panicked little chuckle to put forth intimidation? One as analytical as Cledwynn had to put forth all plans, as well as contingency plans, even the slightest of blueprints. The cranial ones, anyway. There were no true paper-made blueprints, no written thought processes, not even scrawls of crudely angled numbers scratched onto half-torn sheets of papyrus. Nothing like that. Just a man-ghost-bot and his brain. And his heart too, though it wasn't significant for thought.

Well, it was, but that was beside the point. He decided inwardly that he didn't need to think about that at the moment.

Instead, he shifted, turning his body towards that which had just greeted him.

"How is it that you know my name?"

"don't worry I'm not some annoying god out to get you I'm an immortal being who has telepathy, oh and 'sandra' who is this Erised I'm hearing so much about... hmm?" Zig turned to miss caine and started moving his drinking hole "so why are you here?"