There was nothing left for him. His great metropolis, once so vibrant and bustling, its lights twinkling like thousands of artificial stars, was crumbling before his eyes. The only thing that remained of his friends were memories, precious intangible things that, in the reaches of his anguished mind, were already paling from the passage of time. They had been like brothers to him – no, closer than that even, if such a thing could be said. But now they too were gone, snuffed out as easily as candle flames in the breeze.

Slick's empire had been so grand, so mighty, and yet, just like the miracle of life itself, it had been as delicate as glass. And now it lay scattered around him in countless pieces, each little shard of memory cutting into his soul like a knife.

He had once though himself an independent man, but now he knew he had thought incorrectly. An independent man could move on, could let go of his deceased cohorts and carry on with his life, perhaps become content with picking up a few new ones along the way. But the very though of existing without his Crew revolted him. Oh yes, he had played the role of leader, he had called all the shots, but it had all been for them.

And only now that they were gone did he realize it.

Without his Crew, Alternia's most dangerous mobster, Spades Slick, was nothing.

His hand tightened around the pistol that asshole, Scratch, had given him. Its cold metal felt deadly wonderful, sensual even, against his skin. He hated Scratch, and in a sane world he would have never listened to that fucker's orders, but the world was no longer sane, and the finale Scratch's desires promised offered a kind of endless salvation to Slick's tormented soul.

The world's most sickeningly gorgeous woman stood before him, staring him down through her pale, almond-shaped eyes as though she were an angry cat. Her dress clung to every voluptuous curve like a glove, and its fabric glittered like the vast expanse of the universe as the city lights caressed her form.

How fitting for the woman who held the very fate of the world in her heart.

"Well, Slick?" Her silky voice spoke in mocking tones dripping with amusement. She rested a hand on her hips, tilting her body ever so slightly in a sensuous taunt. "Aren't you going to shoot me?"

She didn't think he had it in him. Didn't think he could pull the trigger.

How wrong she was.

She failed to see that this was the perfect of all ill ends for Spades Slick's dynasty. If his dream of growing old and rich with his three fellows was to be snatched from him before it even ripened, what better end was there than to go out with a bang, like a blazing star going supernova, all while settling his old score and simultaneously erasing himself and the last living thing he could ever say he loved?

There was nothing.

Taking deep, even breaths, he slowly lifted the gun, his expression sorrowfully stoic though his mind was in an anguished state of emotional discord. Without a moment's hesitation, Spades Slick fired one final bullet into the heart of the woman he hated as much as he loved. The woman whose very life was intertwined with the life of the universe.

Far off in the reaches of space, the unraveling began. Stars and worlds exploded in catastrophes both great and small, but all leaving gaping holes where space and time once stood testimony to reality. Planets were blotted out, galaxies winked away, further plunging everything that ever existed into darkness. The seams of the universe stretched and snapped, tearing the fabric of the world asunder and leaving absolutely nothing in its wake.

The entire time Slick knelt there, cradling the bleeding corpse of Snowman to his chest like the lover he always wished he could be. The earth quaked beneath him and the city lights around him flickered and died as his own undoing drew nigh.

Through a murky veil of tears, he gazed at Snowman's beautiful face, so impossibly serene in death. He gave her still-warm lips the only gentle kiss they would ever receive, and then, still holding her tightly, welcomed the unstoppable nothingness of the void.

Spades Slick's last thought was that maybe, in another world, in another time, the five of them might all meet again someday, only in a much happier, more loving, place.