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Chapter Text

The Sun shone brightly and burned the face of the leader of the Doom Lords, Master Doom, completely pressed to the ground. It was extremely difficult for her to blink and breathe, since she has been in the sun for three hours and no one comes to help her.

Where have these stupid lords gone? – Master Doom's head was thinking, suffering from the lack of body and strength, which she lost thanks to the cursed the Power of Friendship. – Did they fall through the ground? 

The last thought seemed very funny to the head and she couldn't help laughing, but then she started coughing quickly, as she also lost not only her body and magical powers, but also her frightening double voice. Now she began to wheeze, but it was unclear from what – because of Princess or because her throat was dry. 

An idea! – Master Doom exclaimed and abruptly started coughing several times, which, to her surprise, was able to attract someone's attention. Whoever it is, the best solution would be to ask a stranger for water, and then ask him to dig it out of the ground.

Rustling of grass, limping, heavy breathing (apparently also due to the heat), pushing a stick or cane on the ground and the mechanical sound of a wheel. She seems to know who it is, so this is her chance to call this old man with a prosthetic leg. 

Crankybeard tried to catch up with the young sailors who decided to run to the Castle, but the age and the prosthesis make themselves felt, but he, after grumbling a little, decided not to give up and catch up with his sea cadets as soon as possible and send them to the lighthouse after the party. But then...

Ugh! Heeeeey, help meeee! – that's a bummer, the old man fell, which Master Doom didn’t want to expect from people like him. When suddenly – Wow, I could! – She hears Crankybeard get up from the ground. By yourself. Probably sometimes the lack of responsive people has made him more independent and independent, which any elderly person from a retirement home can envy. 

And finally, the old man stands on his leg and prosthesis, holding his cane from him, and says in a thoughtful tone:

Hmm, I'm completely behind them... – after which his tone changes to confident and he resolutely says – But nothing, I know what needs to be done. – Cranky tapped the prosthetic wheel, the sound of a motor similar to the motor of a lawn mower came out of it, and now he can safely and quickly walk to the Unicastle.

Water! WAAAATEEEER! – in a hoarse and as if compressed voice, Master Doom calls Cranky to "get" to her as soon as possible. She was impatient to get out of the ground as soon as possible, when suddenly. 

AAAAAA, THE MONSTER! Old man Cranky screams in fear and begins to hammer Master Doom in the face with his cane so that he could not even close his eyes, after which he decided to drive his prosthesis over the face of this "monster", finishing him off for the last time. – And so that there is no spirit of yours! – he moves away from the head buried in the ground, spits right on her face and leaves the "killed monster", almost already reaching the Unicastle with a party. 

The sun goes below the horizon, but even this will not save Master Doom in any way (at least, she thinks so). She was terribly ill, her head seemed to "finally merge into a single whole" with the ground, her face was broken and burned due to the heat, and her right horn broke.

Here it is, my end. – she felt that she was going to die soon, that there was no salvation for her. She would like to cry, but she can't, because her face becomes harder and more imperceptible to her, she doesn't even have the strength to just force herself to let one small tear. But there are forces to just relax, close your eyes and take your death for granted. 

As soon as she closes her eyes and tries to relax, she is woken up by a familiar, overly loud voice that she recognizes from a thousand.

Master Doom, boss, I found you! – Master Malice spoke loudly and put his hand to his chest, showing the same respect for his leader – We found shelter for a start, working in a team, – A TEAM? A terrible word in Master Doom's opinion, which somehow has enough strength to listen to the cries of a big man - well, then I, as the strongest of the Doom Lords, went to look for you, boss! Can I help you? 

And then Master Doom looked away with a slight smile, and then at Master Malice, but now she took it away and screamed with weak aggression to the horned lord:

Bring back greatness! ... – Master Doom started coughing, and then choking, but she didn't give up and wanted to say the most important thing as soon as possible – or the Doom Lords!.... – and then she makes one last attempt to breathe normally, but unsuccessfully, and Master Doom dies. 

No, IT'S IMPOSSIBLE! - I broke a piece of earth and took the whole head of Master Doom out of it, hoping that she would survive – YOU CAN'T JUST DIE LIKE THAT! – and he runs away far from the Castle that no one suspected him. 

Master Malice brings their deceased boss to his survivors. Master Malice sobbed the most and loudest of all, although Master Plague, who understands better than others what it is, tried to comfort him. Master Papercuts is saddened that he did not receive a salary even during his Boss' vacation. Master Fear was struck and simultaneously frightened by the dead physiognomy of Master Doom, especially the worm that accidentally appeared from her mouth, which greatly frightened the squeamish Master Hazard. 

The Lords quietly and without any ceremony buried their boss not far from their old hideout and returned to Frowntown, where, as it turned out, no one is happy with them now, since the President has now called the Doom Lords "Enemies of the People." But Doom Lords know what to do.

Chapter Text

Today’s party in the Unikingdom is still going on, but Brock decides to leave in advance, taking some food with him.  Okay, a little more than just some food, but due to recent events, everyone’s tired and won’t want to cook.  So free food from the party it is; three pizzas, several cakes, wicked chicken wings and, of course, still-unopened cola bottles and marshmallow bags.  Brock starts his way home, counting on Master Frown still being in the kingdom and waiting for him. But he’s wrong.

“There’s no car”, Brock thinks to himself, looking at the parking space and scratching the top of his head, “But should I be surprised?  This is Master Frown, as he likes to say, hehe... How will I get home?"

Brock begins to inspect the territory, hoping that it was some kind of prank or his friend decided to go to the Unikingdom shopping center (if there is one at all).  Unexpectedly, the tombstone notices a couple of cabin boys eating ice cream with chips and marmalade on it, whispering something about past events at the party. Brock swallows the lump in his throat and greets them.

"Oh, hi guys! Are you by any chance my dad’s students?  Have you seen him around lately?”  The cabin boys synchronously point their finger at the old man, who surprisingly manages to almost reach them, but they run away, and Crankybeard is already starting to fall.  Brock manages to grab his father by the sleeve of his sailor suit and they straightened up.

”Hi, Dad! I was just thinking about you..."

"You never think about me-AAUCH! MY BAAAAAAAACK!!"  The old man falls to the ground on his back.  “LIFT ME UP, SON,” the old sailor asks in a guilty voice as Brock obediently lifts him up and sits him down on a bench.

Brock's father, Crankybeard, or simply the crankiest and grumpiest of old men, devoted his whole life to the sea; searching for treasures and uncovering the secrets of its depths until certain moments completely turned his life around.  He became disabled, his wife died of the Frowntown flu, and he quarreled often with his son, after which he couldn’t travel for a long time.  But everything changed two years ago, and now he’s decided to return to maritime activities again, but now as a mentor to young sailors and the organizer of a search team for treasures left by various pirates or respected historical figures.  The tombstones sit in silence for a while, but Brock decides to break it and offer his father something to eat from his bag.

"Pizza?"

“Oh, I remembered! I have to go home!"  Crankybeard gets up from the bench and wants to press the lever on his prosthesis to go faster, but the engine is already completely gone.  He curses in a whisper and looks at his son with a displeased expression on his face.

"Take me with you, son.  I don't know the city at all, and I need this thing get around on my own.”

Brock understands what his father means: he doesn't know the Unikingdom that well anymore. That's why he bought a wheel with a motor, so that he wouldn't need to deal with the outside world as much.  Cleverly thought out, but it doesn’t solve the problem with his vulnerability at night.  Brock nods and picks him up, holding the bag of food in one hand and his dad's decrepit but fleshy arm in the other to keep him from falling into the harbor.

"And yes, I really want pizza!" Crankybeard unexpectedly answered with a playful smile on his face.  He receives his cherished piece and immediately swallows most of it in one gulp.  “By the way, where’s this Hero of the Occasion?"

Brock gets embarrassed and explains everything he remembers, and his father only puffs. Besides, Brock has to admit that his friend just left without him.

***

The old tombstone and his son have already reached the harbor and are sitting on the deck.  The path leads to Frowntown, their hometown.  Brock had forgotten how long it’s been since he rode on the ship his father piloted.  He is suddenly overcome by a feeling of nostalgia and because of how touching the moment is, he takes a cake out of the bag and chews on a slice, looking at the beautiful starry sky.

"Dad, this is amazing!"  Brock can't help but get down on his knees to hug his old man and remember the good old days again, when he was still more like an itty bitty boulder than a tombstone.  But he realizes just what he’s doing to a man repulsed by physical touch and loosens his grip to get out of the embrace.

"I'm sorry-"

"It’s okay, son!”

“Really?"

"It's all right!"  Crankybeard had a sincere smile on his face.  “Brock, I've missed you so much.  You've become so dear to me at this moment!"  He turns away from his son to continue looking at the sea.  These words touch the young man greatly, because it has been too many years since they had quarreled and Brock decided to leave his old home.  Brock thought that his father would be very vindictive since he managed to get the title of "grumpy old man", but no.  Deep down, Crankybeard loves his son and, conversely, even began to encourage his blogging activities, which he previously considered a frivolous waste of time and harmful to his health.  He didn’t want to show it because he believed that his little boy Brock no longer needed a father.  Brock is a big boy, and he’s already a grumpy old man who no one wanted to care for.  But he hasn’t been abandoned; neither by his own son, nor his team of sailors.

The water gets stinky as they continue, which means they’re very close to Frowntown.  To the old tombstone, there’s no time to stop.  But his ship suddenly collides with old boats filled only with lifebuoys.  Brock deftly jumps off the deck and notices the cracks, reporting them to his father.

"Dad, the ship is damaged!"

"What?  I thought so too, but apparently..."  The ship begins to shake with the current and the other boats’ equally poor conditions.  Crankybeard panics and wants to save his Treasure (as he calls it), because it’s also very dear to him, but his son calls him to leave it behind.

"Jump!  Dad, jump!… Dad?”

The ship begins to collapse, but the old man reacts in time and decides to do a cannonball.

“I’ll catch you, I’ll catch you!”  Brock holds his hands high, walking from side to side.

BOOM!

Crankybeard falls to the ground.  But fortunately, he’s not in pain.

"That's it," Brock says, watching the waters gradually destroy the old ship.  Crankybeard gets up as quickly as he can and turns towards the shore, observing the tragedy: the destruction of his Treasure until only wood, sails, an anchor and a steering wheel remain in its place.  The old man can't help himself but get up to reach for a cane from the shore.  Brock is slightly confused by this.

"Where are you going?  The ship is gone!”

"No, I think I lost my cane here somewhere!  Help me find it!"  He has absolutely no idea where it is.

"Hey, you mean this?” Brock asks with a chuckle, pulling it out from behind his back.  The two of them start laughing.

***

The young tombstone accompanies his father home and hugs him for the second time that day, letting Crankybeard "steal” some goodies from his bag. And they don’t forget to exchange phone numbers in order to keep in touch more often.

"Oh, I almost forgot! Master Frown!”

"Well then go, that's where you live, too.”

"Yes, of course. See you again soon! Bye, Dad!”

He kisses his father goodbye and runs along the sidewalk to his apartment and not at all expecting the garage to smell of fried, namely burnt cloth.  He walks into it through the front doorand sees his best friend, Master Frown, in front of him with a bonfire covering his cloaks.

Chapter Text

"Yes, of course.  See you again soon!  Bye, Dad!”

Brock kisses his father goodbye and runs along the sidewalk to his apartment, not at all expecting the garage to smell of fried, namely burnt cloth.  He walks into it through the front door and sees his best friend, Master Frown, in front of him with a bonfire covering his cloaks.  The door creaks and Master Frown turns around, screaming loudly.  And with Brock screaming along, Frown throws an empty can of kerosene at him that hits Brock right on the forehead.

"Ouch!"

Fortunately, the canister was closed and not too wet.  The situation boils down to a quarrel.

"BROCK!  WHERE HAVE YOU BEEN THIS WHOLE TIME?  And why’d you leave me at that party?” his yellow-faced friend gave his usual sullen expression, but there’s resentment in his eyes, too.

"Maybe because I didn't feel as bad about it as you did?  And what do you hate about Unikitty and her friends now?“

"I just don't like her presence in general, and I hate ALL HER JOYFUL AND STUPID FRIENDS FROM THE UNIKINGDOM!"  He catches his breath a little, sitting down on an old mattress until Brock comes closer.  Then, looking at the fire, he continues his confession.  “To be honest, I don’t get why they forgive me. Are they completely idiots?"  He turns his whole body to Brock.  "I spoil everyone's mood there almost every day, so everyone should hate me even after a conditional ‘correction’, not kiss and hug me!”

"That’s called support, dude.”  The tombstone guy decides to sit down with his friend on the mattress.  ”Didn't YOU say yourself that you need people who won’t be indifferent to you?  They met you halfway and are ready to be friends with you, thereby supporting you.”

“I don't believe them!  There’s no way someone can just takes someone else and forgive them for taking over their kingdom right away!"  Master Frown crosses his arms over his chest, continuing to justify himself.  “Whatever, it’s the way of Princess Unibutt and her jerkish lackeys!"

Brock sighs, realizing that Frown’s way of thinking too realistic for Unikingdom.  It’s better to leave him alone and get out now.

"Okay, dude.  It’s up to you,” he says as he gets up from the mattress, "I'll just go..."

"NO!"

Master Frown grabs the bag that Brock was holding.  At this moment, the former Doom Lord's face relaxes; the wrinkles disappear, and his gaze is plaintive.

"Stay.  I need you."  Master Frown desperately clutches the bag with his hands, not letting go.

"Oh, okaaay…” his tombstone friend is a little embarrassed.  Why couldn’t his friend look back at the bonfire and talk more about himself?  But a particular thought dawns on him.

“Speaking of bonfire, it hasn't even gone out yet!  And I think I know what to do!"

Brock takes a pack of marshmallows out of the bag.  "Want some?” he asks.  Frown nods, taking out a skewer along with Brock and stringing several marshmallows onto them.

***

"Hey!”

Brock grabs a marshmallow and his friend, making said friend very indignant.

Frown decides to abruptly break off the kiss and apologize.

"Sorry, dude, but you're doing great!" chuckles Brock, but Frown doesn’t quite understand what he means.  But he still asks "Do you think I'm changing? Is it too late to start all over again?" to Brock as he chews on his marshmallows. 

"I don’t think it's too late to do anything nowadays!  My dad’s found so many hobbies for himself in just two years... in general, I think.”  He touches his friend's cheek with a gentle smile.  “So it's not too late for people to recognize you for who you are.”

But Brock starts to breathe in, followed by Master Frown, an unpleasant smell: almost all the marshmallows are turning black.  But miraculously, one marshmallow on Frown's skewer, placed a little farther from the fire, still looked decent.  Maybe it’s not as hot and rosy, but the immediate, sweet aroma is enough for them.  Master Frown wants to eat it, but decides to suggest to Brock that they somehow each eat half of it.  They greedily begin to bite into the sweetness, when suddenly Frown becomes aroused and removes the skewer to kiss Brock's lips.  He has no idea what Brock ate at that party, so he makes do with a simple, no-frills, but long kiss to surprise him.

Brock can't help himself but take part in it, but he wants to open his mouth and feel someone else's lips on his own.  Frown is a little uncomfortable with the smell of desserts and fast food, but at that moment he’s not thinking about anything and just focusing on the process.  He wants every touch of those lips, Brock realizes as he puts his hands on his waist and pulls his body closer, deepening their kiss.

They can't stop, because...

Frown decides to abruptly break off the kiss and apologize.

"It's okay!" Brock replies, maybe a little too excitedly.  He gazes back into the bonfire as it goes out, so Frown turns back the same way.

"If you don't mind, I can clean this up."  Brock points to the ashes left over from the extinguished campfire and smiles tenderly at Frown, who stands up and replies with a shrug.

“Well... okay."  Brock takes a broom and a dustpan, beginning to clean up.  And while the former Doom Lord is already close to the door, Brock confesses: "And yes, I liked your kiss.  Master Frown blushes and leaves the garage.

***

"Dude"

"Yeah?"

"Those cloaks that you burned, were they ALL?"

After a short hesitation, Frown replies,
"Of course, any wrong?"

"Nothing!"
And on that note, the yellow-faced man went to the bathroom, while Brock realized that his friend had lied to him by hiding his only cloak under the mattress.

Chapter Text

Frowntown, (Former) Master Frown and Brock's Apartment. 9:37 AM:

"I'm rich!”

Brock is brushing his teeth at this time, but when he hears his roommate's satisfied cry, he comes out of the bathroom with a toothbrush.

“What happened?"

"LOOK!"

His roommate displays his private mobile app for Doom Lords on his phone, showing that his Doom credit card has expired a long time ago.  The debt was transferred to him as the only Doom Lord with a preserved credit account.  "Do you know what that means?" Frown asks, his satisfied grin beaming with happiness.

"Hmm, did you re-open an account at FrownBank?"

“Quite the contrary!  Look carefully.”  He presses his smartphone directly to the tombstone’s unawakened face so he could see the number of zeros on the account.  Soon, Brock’s vision focuses on the screen and the surprise hits him like a kick in the face.  Over one trillion dollars!  He’s overcome with doubts and spits out his toothbrush on the floor.

”DUDE!  How is this possible?  I don't understand."  Brock scratches his head in bewilderment.

"Are you jealous?" Master Frown laughs, overjoyed since this discovery of "capturing” all the money of his hated colleagues, their boss, and her secretary after the destruction of the organization.  And *he’ll* be richer than Brock could ever dream of being from now on.  Brock is uneasy and slightly envious deep down, but at the same time, he wants to be happy for his friend.  But he still can’t due to circumstances.

“Are you sure you want to keep all that money in the account…?”

”Huh?  What are you talking about?"

"Don't you think it's a little wrong to keep all of it on your card that your former boss never meant to give you?"

Frown realizes what Brock meant and... he liked the idea.

"You’re *RIGHT*, Brock!”  He immediately grabs Brock by the breasts with one hand to voice his plan.  “I’ll go to the bank and get everyone to stand back and let the owner of this gorgeous Doom credit card all the way past ‘em.”

“Seems to me that a Doom coupon for activity will attract them more than-"

"No!  They’ll run and cower in terror, ‘cause when I show up this out of turn, anyone behind those counters will withdraw money for me!"

“But where’ll you put it, in a bag?"

"Exactly!  I’ll demand it!  It's both reliable and will make everyone envy me!  And only me!”  He went on another laughing fit, then noticed how Brock is watching his euphoria with a dissatisfied face and crossed arms on his chest.

“If you don't want to be happy for me, then take your toothbrush and fry omelets without me,” he orders with an arrogant tone.

"Are you sure?" The tombstone picks up his toothbrush from the floor, keeping a skeptical expression on his face.

"Of course!  Today is a responsible day," Frown replies, rubbing his hands together villainously.

***

Frowntown, FrownBank. 10:09 AM:

*The* Bank of Frowntown: the only one in the city where its people can issue an account, withdraw money from, take out a mortgage, and so on.  Doing so requires overcoming a long queue and not forgetting any documents for signing the contract, otherwise it’s back in line.  And since the bank is open from 10 AM to 5 PM, most people struggle to make it before it closes.  But this is only for ordinary citizens.  Frowntown celebrities and Doom Lords are given special bank cards, after receiving which they get access to the bank's mobile application.  They don’t have to bring documents and they can do everything out of turn, which is precisely the advantage of Master Frown as a Doom Lord, albeit a former one.

Although Master Frown woke up early, he’s in no hurry to get to the bank as soon as possible.  But as he’s whistling something to himself, without noticing it, he bumps face-first into the back of some tall citizen.  Frown dusts his face off and gets a good view of how long the line ahead of him is.

“Well, that's to be expected,” he thinks, "Let's get started!"

Master Frown runs up to the front of the queue of people, who do nothing but frown and groan as they watch the terrible man waltz past them.  He takes out his Doom credit card from his pocket, bragging to them.

"Look what I have!” he teases, “Do you know what this means?"  Because of this credit card, the weather changes and a cloud flies up to him, making the crowd tremble.  “Of course you know, cowards!  You have to give me a turn first, losers!”

As his triumphant, evil laugh rings out, lightning and thunder strike the ground, scaring him as much as the citizens, who are trembling even more now.  They obediently take a step back, letting the young man with the clearly-oh-so-special credit card pass inside in hopes that the thunder will stop.  The yellow-faced ex-Doom Lord is proud of himself, and he walks with relief through the entrance to the bank, showing his tongue and pulling back his lower eyelid just to taunt at the crowd one more time.

As soon as he opens the bank’s doors, he can’t believe everything is still just as... boring as it’s always been here, despite the newer furniture and clean walls (that he had painted over the last time he was here to lure the Unigang into a set up).

"So, first I need an empty window.  But where?"  He looks at the monitor listing all the windows and their availability, but they’re all occupied.  ”DAMMIT!" he loudly exclaims and runs to the nearest window, where some man is signing a contract.

"I need it more!"  Master Frown desperately pushes the client, but realizes that he behaved somewhat uncivilly, apologizes, and approaches the cashier.

"Gloom morning, Miss."

"I'm actually a ‘missus’.”

“That doesn't matter!"  The cashier sighs, but Frown continues.  ”I’m sure you know what I have in my hands and *who* I am."

The cashier checks the Doom credit card and the cardholder's data by number.  Everything matches.  Even the huge amount of money.  She doesn’t believe her eyes, and when she wants to enter the technical support number in the office phone, Frown whispers “They are real,”  to her.  The cashier almost presses the call button, but hangs up, getting down to business: withdrawing money from the large terminal reserved for celebrities and Doom Lords.  But the same man Master Frown pushed over stands up, and decides to poke Frown in the eye with his antenna in response.

"*Ouch*!"

"You need to ruin everyone's contracts, shithead!?”

"You'll regret poking me like that, Roland!”

Another one comes right his way.

“*Oww*!”

Despite the pain the yellow-faced man is in, he endures.  And the disgruntled Roland, not wanting to stay in the presence of the former Doom Lord, drives off on his tracks to the exit.

"Here's your money, Mr. Frown."  Finally, the moment of truth has come!  Before his eyes, the cashier stands on a stepladder and tries to pass a bag of money through the window, but it turns out to be too heavy.  And it makes her client laugh a lot.

When she finally manages to lift the bag, she doesn’t notice that she’s been holding it by the rope, and doesn’t let go of it in time.  She falls down, taking the bag with her.  Frown laughs from the depths of his soul.

“You’re killing me, lady!”  But when the former Doom Lord finishes laughing, he’s free to take the whole bag of money for himself.

“IT’S MINE!  MINE!  NOT YOURS!  MINE!" he screams, grabbing the bag and scurries off.  He carries his infectious laugh with him towards the open door, where two young men in caps and glasses are standing.

"OUT OF THE WAY!" Master Frown screams.  They react accordingly as he leaves the building.  He once again encounters the queue and gives them the same gesture he had shown only a few minutes ago.  Fortunately, he’s already at a good distance from the FrownBank, and calmly drags the money debited from the card so it won’t sit idle in the Doom credit card.

"Speaking of Doom credit cards…” Master Frown thinks to himself, but suddenly, out of nowhere, ninjas appear and surround him.  Some of them are armed, some take combat poses, and one of them smells like garbage.  But someone pushes that ninja aside like he was never there.

"Hello, Master Frown!" says an intrigued, echoing voice, "Or rather, Former Master Frown!"  Cecil, the Head of the President's Frowntown Ninja Group, appears in front of him and imperceptibly climbs onto the bag of money.  As one of the President’s top students, Cecil is almost like a younger brother to him (but more spiritually).

"That's exactly what we need."

"Oh right, guess I'm ready to take on this challenge.  *KYAW*!"

Master Frown uses the bag as a shield and manages to crush some of them into a flat stack of pancakes, with others having to be peeled off it.  He runs off and throws himself to the other side of the sidewalk using the bag’s rope.  And in their pursuit of him, the ninjas crash into lampposts, benches, trash cans, and the smelly guy between his legs into a fire hydrant.

"Whoo-hoo! Get it!"  But Master Frown doesn’t have enough time to continue his escape.  Cecil suddenly clings to his neck with a wet cloth to put him to sleep, and Master Frown can only try resisting and not let the chloroform work on him.  But Cecil is stronger and more agile, so he easily knocks himself and the former Doom Lord down to the asphalt.  And due to the impact, his victim’s grip loosens.  But physically weak as he is, he doesn’t lose his stamina.  Cecil beats what’s left out of him to and presses a rag to Frown's face.  In just a few seconds, Frown stops resisting and falls asleep.

***

Frowntown HQ, The Council Hall Of Doom Lords. 3:21 AM, 2-3 years ago:

"Ughhh, what happened... and?  WHERE AM I???"  The young man couldn’t see anything in the absolute darkness he woke up in.  And all that 21-year-old Alan Frown remembered was his successfully executed plan to destroy Graduation Day for the Architecture Students; after which he jumped onstage and said something, but Frown can’t remember exactly what.  Then someone stunned him by hitting him on the head from behind.  So he lost consciousness from there; made sense why he didn’t remember anything after that.  But what kind of place is this?

"Hello?  Is anyone there?"  All he got in response was his own echo, that did nothing but drift away.  He began to panic and scream at the realization that he was alone here.  All alone.

"HELP ME!  HELP!"  He almost bursted into tears, but no one was there to answer his calls.  Still just his echo and the darkness.  What if he died immediately after being hit in the head?  And is the Underworld really a place of non-existence?  Master Frown refused to believe it at all and he sat on his knees, whispering a prayer that this would turn out to just be a terrible dream.

*Click.*

"Surprise!" a deep male voice shouted, to which young Frown opened his eyes and screamed.  But the President of Frowntown only finds more fun in the stress he’s putting the young man under.

"Ahaha, you’re a real wuss!  Cool down, kid!"  With just those words, his yellow-faced captive calmed down and became confused.  The President of his hometown (or simply Mr. President), also known as Sensei Macho, is a towering big shot.  He won every election in a row since he first became the Head of Frowntown, and has excellent strategic thinking.  His old friend Arthur's father.  And Frown didn't like the President's insult and laughter, so he got up from the floor and scowled in his direction.

"WHAT'S SO FUNNY ABOUT THAT?  And WHY did you bring me here!?”  Frown could guess why he was being laughed at, but he still didn’t fully understand what was going on in this mysterious corridor with two long tables and a taller third one in the center, vaguely resembling a podium.

"What do you think?" the President proudly asked.

"ARE YOU KIDDING?  Everything I've done to your kid was years ago, why’d you wait this long to drag me to prison?  Or…”  Master Frown gulped with growing fear.  “…destroy me with your secret technique?"

"Wait, wait, wait!  I don't care about Arthur at all.  We’re not here because of him.”  The “Prez” jumped off the centered table and approached Frown, squeezing his shoulders.  "We’re here because of you."

A fire formed behind the podium, from which a figure tall and fearsome as a titan emerged before it went out.  It was Master Doom, known by everyone in Frowntown as the head of the City Council.

"Master Doom, meet your new Doom Lord!"  He shoved the “new student” down before the podium like a sacrifice.

"What does this all mean!?” Frown cried out, “I demand an explanation!  What kind of Doom Lords are these!?”

The “President laughs in his face again.  “I like your attitude, kid!  So ok, I'll explain it... consider yourself special…”

***

Frowntown's HQ, The President's Office. 12:22 AM. Present day.

"Ah!"  Master Frown wakes up, finding himself in an unfamiliar place, but in a circumstance he’d been through before.  This room is made up of the same cool colors that correspond to Frowntown’s main theme.  To his right is a window with a view of the city, and to his left is a dark gray cabinet with a limp flower in a vase and a pile of documents.  Awards for achievements in the construction of buildings, the production of machines, and even military merit from representatives of Action Forest hang on the walls.  And in front of him is a desk with a large monitor, more piles of papers on each side, a printer on the bedside table, and an armchair with its back faced to him.

"What is this?  Deja vu?" he thinks, grimacing.  Then someone chuckles from behind the chair before him.  And he can recognize that laugh anywhere.

“Of course it’s you.”

“Yes, yes, it was me!"  The President turns around to face Master Frown.  "Have a seat,” he suggests in a suspiciously affectionate voice, but still sits down across from him.  The elderly man crosses his arms near his mouth, watching him intently.  Master Frown, in turn, puts a serious expression on his face so to not look like a coward.  They’re good at this.  They’re silent for a while, continuing to stare at each other, but sweat begins to flow from Frown’s temple.  And as it does, the President breaks the silence while barely moving a muscle.

“So, Master Frown…”  He takes out a folder labeled Case No. 106 from the bedside table, opens it in front of him, and continues the conversation.  ”I heard rumors that the leader of the City Council,” (the unofficial name of the "Doom Lords”) “died on August 27th, late in the evening."  The face of Frowntown itself changed from relaxed to tense, and he leaned over a little from his chair to level face to face with Frown.  "Tell me, is this all true?"  He points several times at the photo of Master Doom.

"Yes, it's true!" replies Frown, continuing to maintain his calm and sullen expression.  Nevertheless, he got caught and is terrified that his peaceful, "luxurious" life could end here.  The blue-skinned old man leans back against his desk, peers at the photos from the case, and begins to giggle.  But it quickly evolves into his signature laughter.  His face is raised and his gaze is fixed on the ceiling as the laughter gets crazier and crazier.  But he stops when he punches his desk and leans on it even lower.

"Do you even know what you've done?" he whispers, putting his face a little closer to the former Doom Lord’s.  Then he presses his face even closer to the young man’s.

“Do you know what that means?” the President asks in a louder, rude tone, “Do you know what that means!?”

"No, Mr. President!  I don't know!"  Frown’s face wrinkles even more and buckets of sweat accumulate over his skin.

The President thought that the younger man he had pinned great hopes on, the only Doom Lord allowed to give himself his own villainous name, would respond in the expected way under these conditions.  The President walks away and turns his back to Frown, speaking thoughtfully.  His voice is calm and even a little plaintive, as if he’s about to cry.

"You know, you have no idea how much I counted on you.  Ever since I saw that first list of your dirty tricks and the descriptions of your actions, I realized that you were a natural born Doom Lord.  Maybe even a future leader."

These words touch Master Frown to the depths of his soul.  He relaxes his face and wipes away the sweat as the President continues.

"But when I found out that you had renounced the status of Doom Lord and destroyed Master Doom with an unknown force..."  He looks over his shoulder at Frown, radiating with anger that he can’t hold in.  He completely turned to face him, full of rage, and shouts "I WAS ANGRY!  AND STILL AM!”

Master Frown trembles, but realizes the discrepancy in his logic and calms down slightly.  "What about her other subordinates?  Like that big bully Master Malice, or smelly ol’ Master Fear?  And Master Haz-"

"THEY'RE WORTHLESS IDIOTS!"  The President slams his fist on the table again, making Frown scream in fear and several papers scatter around the office.

”Look at what you've done!  My documents are flying everywhere because of you!"  His voice gets a little calmer, but the situation itself doesn’t help at all, and only leads to a headache.  The President sinks back into his chair, stroking his forehead while Master Frown starts to look at the file with the Case.  It describes actions from August 27th from morning to late afternoon.  In such a relatively short time, he was able to upset the citizens of Unikingdom, then Unikitty herself and the inhabitants of her castle, finally earn a serious promotion, and receive a new villainous name: Master Big Frown.  That name really did suck!  And in even less time, he betrayed his organization, lost his position for disobeying Master Doom, and sided (albeit temporarily) with the princess.  By doing so, he deprived Master Doom of her powers and “condemned all of her organization to a meaningless existence”.

"What do you mean I doomed all the Doom Lords to ‘a meaningless existence’?”

"THAT'S WHAT IT MEANS!  The thing is, only Master Doom has magical abilities, and they don't!"

The President’s angry again but prefers to sit, clutching the arms of his chair.  "She gave them their powers and reasons to exist!  And even if they still had those powers, they’re useless and weaker than that unicorn bullshit!"

Someone knocks on the door, and the President can immediately tell who it is by how she does it: his secretary, Ellen.  She shakes a little while holding a coffee pot.

"You're late!  Get out of here!"

The woman vanishes from the gap between the office and the door in a flash, shutting it tightly behind her.

Ellen has been working as the President’s personal assistant for more than a decade.  Little is known about her past: she, like all the other citizens of Frowntown, lost her memory a long time ago and doesn’t remember much from before that moment.  If other citizens were able to easily restore their memory thanks to family albums, contact numbers, and news releases, then in Ellen's case, she had nothing of value.  So Mr. and Mrs. President found her and helped her settle down first as Master Papercuts, and then as the secretary of her current boss.  When Master Frown sees her, he thinks that she looked like him, as if she’s an unknown relative.  But the President distracts him.

"Don't impose nonsense on yourself!  You don't even look alike!"  Which is true.  After all, one day he discovered that Gluppycorn and Schmunikitti aren’t related to Unikitty and Puppycorn despite their similarities.  There are so many coincidences in this world that no one can argue with.  He felt the same way when looking at the tapestries in the Hall of Doom Lords, but it's impossible for the founder of Frowntown to also be part of his family.

"In general," the blue old man continues, crossing his hands again near his mouth, "I decided to ‘reveal’ the true face of the City Council.  I am destroying the Doom Lords!  Now they’re recognized as a criminal organization that deceived me and made all the citizens suffer at their hands.  Especially you!"  He points at Frown, who’s already furious over this.  He gets up from his chair and leans on the President's desk.

"You’re a traitor!"

"And what did you expect after your boss’s death?  Thank you posters from the citizens or fabulous wealth?"

"Actually, yes, but-"

Before the yellow-faced man can finish, the President laughs even harder, coughing a little.

“You want a kiss on the ass!?  From this day on, you are the Enemy of the People!"  He majestically gets up from his chair and walks towards the window.  “Who are you to doom your former colleagues to a life ostracized from the city folk they worked so hard to torment?”

"So?  I’ve been getting side-eyed by everyone in the Unikingdom for a long time-“

"But not in Frowntown!” the President interrupts again, even though Master Frown isn’t buying much into his claim, “The key word is Frowntown.  Thanks to the fact that you were a Doom Lord, you had immunity.  Now I'm taking it away from you!"

After their initiation ceremony joining the ranks of Doom Lords (officially called the "City Council"), each member received immunity to personal inviolability and absolute impunity on Frowntown and Action Forest's partial territories.  Thus, Doom Lords wouldn’t be thrown behind Frowntown Prison’s bars and were provided with special lawyers to help them out in Frowntown Court.  Unfortunately, due to the extremely high level of justice in the Unikingdom, but no less crime, immunity didn't work on Doom Lords there.  But fortunately, their prisoners are almost always there for just a maximum of a month or two.  There are still rumors that somewhere far away from Unikingdom there may be a top-secret prison for especially dangerous criminals, but that information is classified.

"Alright," Master Frown replies in his usual, harmful tone and gets up from his chair.  "Well, at least I'll get to live in peace with a shit-ton of money."

"Not anymore!"  The President stands right in front of Frown, lifts him by the hand, forcing him to hang in front of him.  ”If you’re the Enemy of the Peoples, then it’s ALL you can be.  And That's it!  Cecil!"

"Yes, sir?"

Cecil suddenly appears behind his boss, waiting for an order.  "I'm listening…”

"I demand that you withdraw ALL the remaining money from this bug-eyed wimp.”

"If you mean the giant bag of money with all the funds for the ‘Former Master Frown’, I already brought it in.  Can’t believe someone’s that stupid to make himself that easy of a target!’

“Perfect.”  The President lowers Frown's body to the floor, leaving him a bit of pain.

Despite the fact that the head of Frowntown is no longer in the best physical shape, his grip is still strong and even rough.  He's practically on the same level of strength as Hawkodile!  Frown’s arm hurt so much that he can't keep his balance properly and he presses himself against the wall, close to the window.  Three other ninjas emerge from the shadows with a sledgehammer, scissors, and a shredder in their hands.  Frown can't even imagine what they're going to do.

"W-w-wait!  Don't destroy the money!"

"We're not going to, but your Doom credit card sure won’t live to see another day!”  The President pulls out Master Frown’s stolen, ill-fated credit card and hands it to the ninjas with tools.  But he thinks about his former subordinate’s words only a second after.

"Although, I guess it’d be better to destroy the money too!"

"WHAT!?”

Even Cecil, who already planned to take some of this money along with the rest of the ninjas, was outraged.

"But sir!"

"THAT'S AN ORDER!"

The three ninjas begin to tear apart the credit card first, then proceed to the bag of money.

"You can't do this!” yelled Frown, still breathing heavily from the pain, “Aren’t you supposed to like money!?”  He’s already standing next to the door.

"Evil spirits emanate from this money!  Destroy them!"  The first ninja tries to cut it with scissors, but the attempt is merely in vain.  The second ninja, fussing with the heavy sledgehammer, decides to take a few steps back, accelerate, and smear the credit card with a scream.  But instead, he crashes into the first ninja and the sledgehammer only breaks the glass over one of the certificates.  So only the third ninja is able to destroy the credit card by dropping it into the shredder.  After he notices that it wasn’t connected.

The President applauds for the destroyed credit card and calls for Master Frown to destroy the money himself.  But Frown is nowhere to be seen in the office.  It infuriates him, but he soon calms down.

"Alright, let him go.  But in time he’ll remember my words and understand what it means to be an Enemy of the People!!"  His rich, sinister laughter rings throughout the city again.

Through Master Frown managed to escape from the old madman, he’s limping from the pain in his arm.  He finds the elevator and runs for it, but the surrounding office workers in tight, pale uniforms notice him.  First they only stare and blink, but one of them receives a live broadcast notification from the President of Frowntown himself.  And it’ll begin in 3... 2... 1!

*“My valued residents of Frowntown!  I, your President, have news for you!"*

"Dammit!" Frown thinks, deciding to run for the stairs, “I guess that's what being the ‘Enemy of the People’ means.”

*“You might’ve heard rumors that the City Council actually turned out to be a criminal organization.  Well they’re right!  They tricked us all, even me!"*

"How many damn floors are there!?” Frown asks himself, continuing to go down the Main Building of Frowntown’s staircase, "Wait! I can go the other way!"

*"Master Doom and her accomplices are guilty of more than 2,000 recorded crimes.  And there may have been even more.  For example…”*

"*AAAAAAAAAAAH!*"  Master Frown’s decision to roll down on the handrails and control his movements with his good hand isn’t a wise one for sure.  It’s inconvenient, but he sees it as the only way to get to the exit as quickly as possible, until…

*"Master Hazard.  He’s burned forests, wooden structures and monuments, and kept the Candy Corn Kingdom under his control until he ruined it all those years ago..."*

Master Frown's head flies off his body, but he surprisingly doesn't land as painfully as he did before.  His remaining body follows the head, but falls right onto his face.  He gets up, reassembles himself and leaves the building, not expecting the President to send his live broadcast to the ENTIRE TOWN.  Every citizen can watch it on any device and in any public place.  But what strikes Frown the most is the telescreen on one of the skyscrapers: the Architects' Office.

*"... And Master Frown, who I think everyone knows well about.”*

“Maybe because they’re constantly bourgeois in other countries, and not in this rotten city?" Frown sarcastically thinks.

*"Watch out for this little menace, because he is currently the only Doom Lord still lurking around our city.  Fortunately, he’s completely harmless and I have deprived him of immunity.  Therefore, all that is required from you is to ostracize him before he cause further trouble.  I will take care of the rest of other Doom Lords to ensure your the peace and boredom you’re all entitled to.”*

Frown is already almost home and his arm is starting to regain its strength.  He sees that his apartment’s garage door is wide open and runs right inside, closing it from the inside and leaning back against the wall.  And everything would have been fine if he hadn't noticed a cloak on the floor (the only one he hadn't burned yesterday) and  a cough from the door separating the house and the garage.  It’s from Brock, and he leans on one “shoulder”, ready to give what his friend can only assume will be an accusation.

"Dude, I don't understand what this is."

"Brock! I can explain!"

“Well then what’s the big deal about changing?  ‘Cause if you really are, would you have burned all of these things?”  His tombstone friend can distinguish his strong unwillingness to become a better person, but Master Frown feels something in his gut that something along those lines is possible after all.  And he can’t hide it anymore.  He goes up to Brock, pulling him into a giant hug.

"Yes, yes, and a million more yeses!” he frankly confesses, “I can't completely give up the past!"  He hugs Brock even tighter.  "You know I’ve just loved to spoil everyone's fun all my life!"

"Yeah, I get that."  Brock strokes Frown’s head a little, comforting him.

"I really want to change for the better, but I don't want to give up my tricks and pranks!”

"Yes, I know.  But I don't ever want you to change that about yourself.“

"What are you talking about, Brock?"

"I mean… I didn’t always your dirty tricks.  In fact, I kinda envied you sometimes.  And you know why?"

“Wait… seriously?  Why!?” Master Frown asks, not realizing that his face is a little red from everything that’s happening to him.

"Because you always knew how to be the life of the party!” Brock chuckles, holding his hands in Frown’s.

It’s true.  Master Frown didn't pay attention to that for a very long time because of the various, organized pranks that turned into failures throughout his life.  But he realized that if he hadn’t become a Doom Lord one day, he wouldn’t have developed the charm and persistence he was known for.

"Maybe you're right!  But I'll have to stop messing around the way I used to.  If I still want to ruin everyone's day, now I'll make them into some big special occasions out of spite!"

Brock rolls his eyes and pouts as Master Frown triumphantly laughs in spite of his current situation.

"And what about this ‘ostracism’ of yours, dude?"  It looks like he watched the live broadcast, too.

Frown takes his hands off where his friend's shoulders would be and hugs his own.  "I know I'm almost a criminal, but so was Unibutt’s gray, floating nerd.  So hoprfully, if they don’t bully me about it, they can protect us.”  But then he realizes that he doesn't have any money and has to come clean about it.

“Besiiiides, the President's ninjas burned all the money I withdrew from the Doom credit card, and we’ll be homeless again without their help!”

"Hmmm, that wasn’t what I expected based on the broadcast the President conducted."  Brock sighs, but has a hopeful solution in mind.  ”Don’t worry, though, dude!  This is no time to get all down in the dumps, because we won’t starve and we can still pay rent!"  The tombstone man takes out his phone to open a notification from Unitch in his Mail and display its contents for his friend.

"I'm rich…!”

Brock gained a million subscribers on his gaming channel.

Chapter Text

"YOU'RE LYING!" Master Frown replies, grabbing his boyfriend's smartphone to check his e-mail for authenticity, despite the message already being sent to the Mail application itself.  But Brock interrupts him.


"What about the message about reaching 100,000 subscribers?” he asks sarcastically, “Are scammers sending those out, too?"  The former doom lord snaps at himself, raising his face to the ceiling and slapping a hand on it.  He completely forgot that Brock has a silver Unitch button, and because of the pile of photos and posters with dinosaurs, he’ll no longer remember where it hangs.  Does Brock remember where he hung it?


But suddenly, there’s knocking at the garage door.


"Who’s that?” Frown reacts indignantly, “And why now?  Everyone’s on their lunch breaks at work!"  Still he, goes to the garage door and puts his hand on the floor to lift it.


He opens the door to see a teenage boy in a courier uniform in front of him with a box in one hand and a smartphone in the other.  He once brought them a lot of pizza paid for by Unikitty.

“Package for Mister uhhh, BrockRocks93?  Are you his neighbor or someth- AAAAHH, MASTER FROWN???"  The kid panics, completely forgetting about day he came to this very address.  He’s confused and trembles a little.  “The live broadcast ‘brainwashed’ everyone already”, Master Frown thinks, rolling his eyes.  And this delivery boy is convinced that Frown could still be dangerous, not wanting everything to go wrong.  But Frown just looks at him coolly.

"Brock, it's for you!"


“What?”


Brock comes up to the garage door and the courier quickly pushing the box towards him and starting to take pictures of him without any warning, confusing Master Frown.


"WHAT ARE YOU DOING?"


"I-I have to report him to the sender! HONEST!" The courier puts the phone in his back pocket and gently replies to the tombstone, "By the way I’m a big fan, Mr. 93. And I the pic won’t get out anywhere..."


"It's okay, dude!" Brock says to comfort the young man, reaching him so deep into his soul that it starts leaving the young courier’s body. But Frown puts it back in place, and the teenager comes back to his senses.


“Get OUT OF HERE!"


"Have a frowny day to you, uuugh!" the courier replies in an offended, sullen tone. He clutches his hat with one hand, getting into the car and driving away with the other.

Brock can't believe that his content is THIS viewable, even though it’s mostly just video game streams, reviews, and stories about himself. For him, the Silver Unitch Button was already the limit of his capabilities and he had no doubt that he would get it. But this is the Golden Unitch Button! He couldn’t even dream about it, because by that time he was mostly shooting more vertical videos from parties, something many Frowntown citizens couldn’t achieve themselves because if they don't relatives from other regions, they’re forbidden to leave their hometown and can only be content with that they know. But thanks to Brock expanding their worldview, many of his own people (especially children and teenagers) also want to get to know the Unikingdom’s princess and her friends.


As soon as the gray tombstone opens the box, ready to remove the bubble wrap from around the button, Master Frown decides to go over and looks it too. He considers this to be a prank pulled by way too many teenagers.


"Who did you sell your soul to? And did you really not think that many kids could have you- AAAAAAAAAAAH MY EYES!"

With the bubble wrap completely removed, the button is free to “dazzle" in Brock’s hands and ruin Frown's eyesight with its bright, golden light. Brock realizes that his friend hasn't been used to such a bright light since he remade the Unikingdom’s Castle to his image.


"It's not even real gold, dude!" he teases Frown with a laugh, who furrows his brows even more. 


"Fuck you, Brock!" His eyes, even though they’ve gotten used to the light reflecting off the button, still have an offended glare.


Brock gets up and takes a closer look at the button and thank-you note. Everything points to its authenticity, including a signature from Princess Unikitty herself and instructions on how to care for the button from Dr. Fox and Richard. So it's anything but fake.


But he notices that his friend is still standing sideways with the same displeased expression.

"Dude, you're not serious right now, are you?"


“I’m completely serious! It wasn't supposed to be like this!" He scurries back up to Brock.


"What are you talking about?"


"I should be the rich man of the house, not YOU!"


"What? Dude, you're-"


"Because I used to work my ass off everyday and you didn't, I liked to think that I was more of a breadwinner than YOU! You're sitting at home all day like a bland, useless fatass excuse for a housewife, while I put all the work in!….” He droops down to the floor, immediately starting to feel weak and insignificant. "But now you're recognized as some super cool guy... but HOW? WHY?" To hide his shameful demeanor, he leaves the hallway and hurries for the bathroom through their shared bedroom.


Brock wants to catch up to him and calm him down, but he decides not to this time.

***

"Eh, cheer up. I'm not whining about my fate-"


“’Cause no one asked you!” Frown screams at one of the Toilet Bros.

“Oh, okay..." The toilet closes his lid to face his own bowl in complete darkness.


The former Master Frown gets up from the cold, tiled floor and looks at himself in the mirror.

"Unhappy”. The only word that comes to mind as he stares at his own face. After all, everything he did from when he was a student to when he was a Doom Lord, was absolutely meaningless. But the yellow-faced man takes the will he still has left into his fist, tightening his frown.


"No,” he decisively scolds his reflection, “it's not me! I can do better!" He pokes at the mirror to try encouraging himself. ”Do you understand? This can’t be it!" He sets himself with a new task: to start life with a clean slate.


But three knocks at the door snap him out of this state of mind.


"Dude, can I come in?"


"Umm, not yet!"


"Okay then.”


The former Master Frown fidgets a little, then slaps himself in the face to get back to his "plan."

"First of all, you need to take a bath and relieve tension.” He turns on the taps, pours some shower gel from two almost empty bottles, hoping for a lot of foam. Then he prepares a towel and takes out a bathrobe from the bottom cabinet under the sink. By that time, the tub is less than half full, but there’s much more foam.


“But what did Brock want from me?” Frown thinks, “Something important…” He opens the bedroom door to loudly call for his roommate.


"Brock! Why’d you want me?"

"Oh, what? I was cooking to some music with my headphones,” Brock replies taking an earphone off, “And I've already finished everything up!” He takes the second off as he approaches his friend, hearing the sound of water pouring into the tub.


"You want to take a bath right now-"


"YES!" Frown interrupts with a firm reply before rubbing the bridge of his nose to calm down. "I want to get rid of all this tension, Brock. Do you understand that? I feel lousy, so have dinner without me." He simply closes the bathroom door right after.

Well, Brock is no stranger to dining alone. Not to mention that as a tombstone, he can naturally eat more and sleep less than most people, let alone Master Frown. Besides, he isn’t too worried about Frown eating at all tonight, so how can he say no to a slightly fuller plate? Even if he’s still too occupied with one thing: the Golden Unitch Button.


Brock takes out his smartphone, adjusts the camera mode and begins shooting for a vertical video, sitting down in the center of the sofa. The stream starts in 5...


4...


3...


2...


1…

"Hey dudes! It's been a long time,” he giggles, noticing the mostly positive emojis being sent out by his loving audience.

“I heard rumors not so long ago that my channel on Unitch collected... eh, yes, that's right, a million subscribers!"  Brock blushes slightly and scratches his head.  He’s unaccustomed to admitting he’s naturally as cool as everyone sees him.  ”I didn’t think I could hit that kind of goal, but..."

He notices comments about how he’s such a cool guy and that the viewers appreciates him.

"Thanks guys,” he softly laughs before preparing the table, “Well here it is!  The Golden Unitch Button."


Brock finally feels that all his hard work as a streamer wasn’t in vain, despite it was only being a hobby, and that it was for the sake of this hobby that he didn’t graduate from law school and transfer to journalism.  After all, he only took up street reports to help his young princess friend, but it led to a lot of other, overwhelming things for the Unikingdom.  How’d he win several nominations like “Best Speech" at the Unikingdom Awards that one year?  He’ll never know.


"Wait, what am I talking about?  Oh yeah!  I’ll have to think about what new content to put out, but I’ll put it out soon!  And it’s been real nice to see you on this little stream!  This has been your favorite coolest guy BrockRocks93, and I'll be waiting for you guys next time, haha!  See ya!"


"Phew."  And like that, the stream is over.


"Brock!"


"Ah?"  The tombstone almost drops his smartphone, not expecting to hear his friend's voice from behind.  He’s just come out of the bathroom is wearing his bathrobe with a towel wrapped around his head.  And his eyes are full of ambition.  New ambitions.


"I know what I'm going to do starting tomorrow!"


"So… what, dude?"

"I will start a new life by wiping this face of a former lord clean.”

Brock is rather surprised, but remains doubtful.  And all because of a single unburned cloak.  However, he can tell that his friend now thinks that being a Doom Lord is not a good idea.


Master Frown takes a couple of steps back and crosses his arms over his chest.
  “What?  Don't you believe me?"


"No, dude, I want to believe you.”


"But what's stopping you, huh?  We've already decided everything about the last cloak!  ‘Cause I’m definitely burning it!"


"I just uhh… understand how you feel and the kinds of overestimated goals you set for yourself.  I understand that a high income and work are more important to you than me or spoiling everyone else’s fun.”


Silence hang over the two roommates.  It’s not easy for them to even look into each other's eyes.  Brock, still sitting on the couch, moves away as Master Frown comes closer to him.


“I’ve just been thinking about that.”  Frown sits down on the sofa to continue the conversation.  "While I was in the bathroom, I really thought about everything I did as a Doom Lord and abusing my immunity.”


"So, can you be a bit more specific?”  Brock lies down on his stomach so his encouraging face can be below the level of his friend's.  It seems to Frown that there’s hidden sarcasm in his tone, but he continues to speak his mind.


“Well I mean that I’ve been thinking more broadly.  I realized that if I limit myself to that much luxury for the rest of my life and only think about work, I’ll become exactly what the Doom Lords wanted me to be for so long!  I mean, I'll never make friends, or worse..."


Brock touches his hand, rising from the couch and looking into his eyes.


"Or you'll lose them, I understand.”


Brock gently squeezes Frown's other hand with his.


"Yes,” Frown responds, “that's right."

Their faces get closer, their heartbeats accelerating in anticipation before they pounce on each other.

***

"That's it, do you believe me now?" the former Doom Lord playfully asks, leaning on his roommate’s shoulder and watching the last cloak burn.


"Yes,” the tombstone replies as he hugs him around the waist, “now I definitely believe you.”

Chapter Text

Frowntown. (Former) Master Frown and Brock’s Apartment
7:01 AM, Monday

    "Brock! I'm off!"

"Where’re you going this early, dude?"  Brock asks, yawning.

   "To the City Department!  My Doom documents are no good anymore, so I need to apply for new ones."

  "Yeah.  So in order to avoid queues, you decided to leave early, right?"
    
"WELL, NATURALLY!"

    "Don't forget that the schedule there is arranged terribly.  That’s why many working citizens ..."

    "Yes,” Frown replies in his annoying voice, "I know it's not like that.  I calculated everything the past two days to take into account what time I wouldn’t get into traffic, when I’d arrive, and how long these whiners would have to stand in line! AHAHAHAHAHA!"

But then Frown looks at his wristwatch.  The time was 7:05 AM.

    "I can’t waste anymore time!" He pulls himself together and kisses Brock on the cheek, unexpected for both Brock and Frown himself.

    Yesterday, the yellow-faced man parked his gloomy car in a way so he wouldn’t have to struggle with the garage door when it either constantly opened or he got stuck in it.  He jumps in, takes out the keys, and starts it up.  There were no other cars parked in front or behind, further simplifying his task to drive slowly to his destination.

***

Frowntown. The City Department
8:53 AM, Monday



    The Department building will open its doors at 9 AM, which is inconvenient for most Frowntown residents.  But they have no choice, since only one building is provided for this kind of “convenient” service, which is an understatement.  However, the Department is valued more than the Bank because of its importance.  That is why the building is open from 9 AM to 7 PM.

    Upon arrival, the former Doom Lord does not park in a paid parking lot, but behind the building.  He switches his car to mecha mode and covers it with camouflage in the form of fake bushes.  The police here are so stupid and the weather is not expected to be windy during the day.  Frown himself will have time to reissue his documents.

    "One minute left," he thinks to himself, comparing the time on his wristwatch with an electronic clock on a wall.

    For Frown, this is an important moment before he can begin to live a new life.  Very soon, he’ll be given the opportunity to apply for a new passport and take a photo for it.  There are only a few seconds left.  10… 9… 8… 

    7... 6... 5...

    4... 3... 2...

    *Punch*

"Go to the end, you pathetic scum.”  A healthy citizen blowing raspberries with a scar on his face covers Frown’s yellow face.

"Wait, what?"  He can't believe that a queue has formed on his way here, and if he reaches its edge, it seems bigger.

"Where did all these people come from?"  He snaps to himself, crosses his arms over his chest, and waits for his turn like everyone else.

    When Master Frown passed the Initiation Ceremony, new documents were made for him and old ones were burned in order not to be associated with his past, and thereby consolidate the Oath of the Doom Lord: to swear to bring chaos and destruction at any cost.  Even at the cost of his real name.

    But the former Master Frown doesn’t understand how Frowntown works through the eyes of an ordinary person, not a Doom Lord or a celebrity, and he already…

    “HOW THE HELL HAS IT BEEN AN HOUR AND A HALF ALREADY, I'M STILL STANDING IN LINE?"  He’s furious when he sees the time on the clock.

    But suddenly, he freezes at the sound of a police whistle.

    "Silence!  Do you think everyone likes standing in line?"

    "Oh, excuse me, Mr. Poo-Poo," Frown justifies himself in his sarcastic tone, "I'm not used to the fact that-"

    "Used to it or not,” the cop replies in a low drawl, “that does not absolve anyone from responsibility.  Especially when it comes to you, Former Master Frown.”

    Frown is a little scared, but he continues his argument.

    “Well I came here BEFORE everyone  else, and it's not fair to push me around ’til I’m last in line!"

    "Then watch the crowd.”
Alan sees that he is, again, the most extreme in the queue.  He’s furious again, but this time holds most of the rage within his fists, clenched in anger.

    The cop leaves him and, in an attempt to calm down, he does everything possible to wait for his turn.

    But he's still just WAITING.

***

Frowntown. The City Department

2:33 PM, Monday



    Even after 5 hours, the queue has no end in sight.  Alan is already coming to terms with his fate, after managing to lose his way several times now, thereby taking the edge off it over and over again.


    "Damn, let at least something pity me for coming here earlier than everyone else!" Frown prays to himself, when suddenly it begin to rain.


    The citizens, feeling the drops of water from the sky, immediately sigh.  Master Frown never understood that mentality, and doesn’t want to understand why everyone in this city sighs for any unpleasant reason.


    But a miracle is happening for the former Doom Lord! Some of citiznes standing in front are leaving the queue, freeing up quite a lot of space.


    "This is my chance!"  He decides to run unnoticed to the very front, empty seat.  It’s mean, but it's worth it.


    It would seem that there’s just a couple more people ahead before can enter the building… 


    But that’s not the case.

"Sorry, ma'am, we have no right to let you in wet.  Come back later"  A lady with a big nose runs away in tears from the entrance, hiding her face with a folder of documents and a light scarf.


    "And the rain’s getting worse,” Frown notes to himself, coming up with an idea, "I'll hide behind someone with an umbrella!"  And he finds such a person.  Standing right in front of him!


    The plan turns out to be as reliable as a Swiss watch.  And the poor man doesn’t realize who’s behind him.  No one can burn him down, as the townspeople have already broken the queue in droves and he only has to follow the man with the umbrella until his turn comes.


    "Next!"


    "My turn!" The former Doom Lord kicks the pink man to the ground and despite his sturdiness, he slips and falls face first into a puddle.  The pink guy is about to burst into tears and blame the man standing behind for what happened, but he knows the rules.  So he leaves with a sigh and a drooping head, letting Frown enter.


    Two guards starts to panic, but, remembering in time that he’s not really dangerous, they obediently let him in and sigh (but this time with relief).

***

"What's your reason for visiting the Department today, Master Frown?"


    "Isn't it obvious?  To change my passport!  I'm not a Doom Lord anymore!"


    "What's the difference?"


    "My passport doesn't have my real name on it and I demand to change it!"


    "Ooh, okay.  In this case, fill out this application and we will inform you within two weeks whether your new documents are ready or not.”

An employee of the Department submits papers to her client with an application to create a new passport and change his name, and Frown proceeds to fill them out.


    Unlike the bank, Frown has only been here once as far as he can remember.  In Frowntown, citizens receive their first passport upon reaching the age of 14 in the presence of a parent or guardian, and driver's licenses are made strictly from the age of 18. 


    "To be honest, it's strange that I know almost nothing about Frowntown, my own home, as if... I was brainwashed with all sorts of nonsense and I’m only just now thinking about it.”  Such thoughts occur to Frown as he fills out the application.


    Once upon a time, 10 years ago, if not more, a large magical wave swept over the entire planet, including the city, which erased everyone's memory.  However, if representatives of other regions did not remember only certain events and personalities, then Frowntown citizens forgot much more of them and restored their memories with photographs and videos that they successfully coped with.  But why exactly did the citizens of this gloomy city deserve such a "punishment"?  Why doesn't magic like them?


    "Ooh..."  Master Frown hears someone sigh and looks around from the corner of his eye to analyze who.  With not much luck, he keeps thinking "WHY IS EVERYONE SIGHING OVER EVERYTHING, DAMMIT?"

Frown rechecks everything in the application, signing and returning the sheet to the employee.  He sighs with relief.  ”Now you can relax and go home.”  And, leaving the building, he turns to the corner, and…


    His mecha is gone.


    "What's that?"  Two officers come out of hiding.


    "STOP!"


    "DON'T MOVE!"


    They grab the former Doom Lord and pin him against a police car.

***

Frowntown, Interrogation Room. Frowntown Police Station
3:45 PM, Monday



    What’s interesting is that Frown, being a Doom Lord, really had immunity to ALL the laws of Frowntown, so he was never arrested here and had every right to mess with everyone.  What is he being arrested for now?  Are cars with a mecha mode now illegal?


     He's still handcuffed and ordered to sit at a table.  The cops themselves went out to talk to each other, out of Frown’s view, but he’s seen this exact situation in the movies.  Now he wonders if they’ll use the “Good Cop, Bad Cop” tactic.


    The door opens and a police officer comes out.  He walks up to the Doom Lord with a folder in his hand and sits down opposite from him.


    "Eh, the former Master Frown.  I see you haven't changed at all."

    The look on the man of the law was strained, and his voice was growing tired.   But Frown sees that this fellow has a sense of justice and won’t stop with what he’s started.
 

    "How did you guess?"  Frown is not afraid of the policeman.  He’s sure that he is not guilty of anything.


    After that, the officer's eye twitch with an emotion to say "Is he kidding?" written on his face.  But he realizes that with people like him, you need to talk in a different way.


    "Eh, you really are a born Doom Lord," the cop answers, opening the folder and adjusting the collar of his uniform.


    "Did you just realize that now?"  But as soon as he squeezes it out, he’s hit in the face with a folder.


    "I'M ASKING QUESTIONS HERE, ASSHOLE!"  He throws the open document in front of the former Doom Lord.


    Frown tries to keep a signature… frown on his face and contain the pain after that blow, but because of the handcuffs, he can’t touch his sore cheek to reduce the pain.  All he can to do is familiarize himself with the case.

The case talks about his driver's license, which must’ve been withdrawn along with his car, since he acquired those through the Doom Lords, as well as depriving him of the opportunity to retake his license in 10 years.

    Everything would be fine, but there is one "but”.


    "Mister, uuh..."


    "Wang.”


    "No matter!  I noticed one discrepancy in the case here.”  He points to his monochrome copy of the driver's license.  ”That’s a copy of my license, but you didn’t get a copy of another one.“


    When the former Master Frown passed the Initiation Ceremony, he also passed for a license, but if a Doom Lord needed them, they were done strictly through another Doom Lord.  The only teacher and driving examiner was Master Malice.  The young Doom Lord had a lot of trouble with him, but it was worth it to get these rights.

***

Frowntown, Parking spaces reserved for exams by the Doom Lords City Council

5:49 PM



    Master Frown drives carefully as far as he can to Brock, slightly hits a cone as he parks, and jumps out of the car, flashing his own driver's license in front of Brock.  Brock is filled with joy and feels his friend's cheek.


    “My little Doom Lord’s getting a new toy!" he laughs, but Frown slaps Brock's hand and grabs his shoulder.


    

Maybe I’m "little" now, but believe me, Brock, soon the whole planet will hear the name of Master Frown and regret ever facing me!  AHAHAHAHA!"


    But Brock gets out of his friend's grip and gets into the car himself.  He has an idea.


    "By the way, dude.  I was thinking that maybe I should also study for a driver's license, because if you get hurt somewhere, and you’re not able to drive…”


    "Wait, but Brock, you're not a Doom Lord!  They won't let you!"


    The tombstone takes the keys out of the compartment.  "But I’m your ‘henchman’, right, dude?”  He starts the engine.

The unscheduled driving test begins.  Brock goes through everything as it’s written on the examiner's paper, without a single mistake.  Frown gasps with envy.  Brock is doing all this all for nothing, because no one in their right mind would drive a car for an illegitimate exam.


    "Does he have no conscience at all?" Master Frown thinks to himself, then slaps himself in the face from a sense of shame for his friend.


    Brock parks anyway, and Frown refuses to look at it until out of nowhere, he hears the voice of Master Malice.  He removes his hand and approaches the two young men, brazenly intervening in the conversation.


    "You see what happens when-"


    "I saw everything," replies the horned Doom Lord, putting Alan in a stupor, “Brock, you passed the exam perfectly.  Here's your driver's license!"


    "Wow!  It’s like, real!"


    "That's ‘cause it is real.”


    "WHAT DOES THIS ALL MEAN?"


    Later, it becomes clear that since Master Frown has an official "henchman" for his evil deeds, not only did he need a driver's license, but his henchman did too, anyway.  Brock didn’t tell his friend about it, so as not to aggravate him.  And so that he wouldn’t envy his cool coffin-like friend.  He just wanted to help him as both a henchman and a friend...

***

Frowntown, Interrogation room. Frowntown Police Station
4:10 PM, Monday

    "There are some more copies missing.  Where’s Brock's driver's license?” Master Frown closes the file folder and throws it towards Officer Wang, who can’t even comprehend that it was incomplete.  He takes the handcuff keys out of his back pocket with a disappointed sigh and releases the former Doom Lord from them.


    "Before you leave, I must say: we received these documents in order to seize everything related to the activities of the Doom Lords.  Therefore, it's not personal, but we have every right to ‘spoil your toys’ and never return them.”  The last part of his sentence sounded a little creepy to Frown.  His face is less gloomy and he wants to hurry home immediately.  ”And about Mr. Brock's driver's license: you should tell him to visit the President if this moment is out of the case, since it is not in our competence.”


    Frown is let out of the room, and he and the officer leave the squad through the back entrance.  But before he can scatter…


    “Can I at least get some things out of the car?  There might be some valuable stuff there!"  Mr. Wang assures him that there’s nothing there except the control panels and blasters stolen from  Dr. Fox.  Alan has to take his word for it.  The rest of his belongings, such as a smartphone and a watch, were given away.  Well, at least can fake a “Thank you!"


    Master Frown reaches the sidewalk with relief, when suddenly he gets drenched in a puddle due to a frantic driver in a hurry to go somewhere.  Apparently, that motorist stood in line for a long time.


    "I'm a native of Frowntown too, and I don't know my city at all!" he thinks to himself, shivering a little from the cold.  Not only does he no longer have a car, but he will also have to look for somewhere that can keep him warm.

***

Frowntown. (Former) Master Frown and Brock’s Apartments

 6:27 PM, Monday

    There’s knocking at the door.


    Brock opens it and sees his roommate in front of him, slightly smeared in something gray and covered in cloth from a car cover.  He isn't shaking, but his face is icy cold to the touch against his Brock’s warm hands.  After closing the door and letting his friend inside, Brock quickly runs to get a warm blanket and a hair dryer so that Frown can quickly warm up.

    "Unnecessary.”

    "But why, dude?"

    "I meant the hair dryer.”  Brock apologizes and returns the hair dryer to the bathroom. He soon returns with a tray of mugs: one is purple with a green joystick and with ‘Best Friend’ written in white, and the other is blue with the inscription of "Doom Lord”, albeit crossed out and hand-signed with “Friend" from Brock. Ther’s a wonderful aroma coming from the mugs that Frown has never felt before, which is strange. Although...

    He grabs a mug and drinks from it.  Fortunately, the tea has cooled down a little.

"Okay Brock, as if I wasn’t standing in line for the Department for way too long, I fell back to the end of the line A LOT!  I’m not to blame for this, they’re being cunning!"  The former Doom Lord drones on about how long he walked to get home, being without a car and money, a broken watch and a phone that he bought with his own money for his first salary, and how he starved and tried to find food without salmonella in the trash but was bitten by rats, in addition to the rent they’ve yet to pay.  "That's why I couldn't call you, you know?"

    "I get it, dude,” his tombstone-shaped friend replies, sipping tea, “Everyone in Frowntown lives like this.  And do you understand what the rest of them are like?  It's real good that there’s no more Doom Lords.”


    “IT’S NOT A DAMN THING LIKE THAT!  Thanks to that line of work, I found something that’s close to my heart!  Because-"

    "Because there’s no job that you could possibly want in this city?"


    "Exactly.”  Alan is pleased to think that a seemingly modest, healthy guy like Brock understood him perfectly.  Because he sometimes doesn’t, depending on the topic of conversation.  But after those last words from Brock, he gets up, holding something plaid on his shoulders.

    “Wait,” he asks, “how’d do you know that everything will be fine with no more Doom Lords, huh?"

    "Aeeeeee, well..."  The tombstone is a little surprised by his friend's question. He'll have to tell the truth now.
    “While you were away, I met the celebitties of Frowntown.  Aaaaaand from now on... I'm part of them..."

    "Holy s-"