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Just another boring day in Rosso’s, with nothing to do but chill out on the couch watching people beating the piss out of each other for no readily apparent reason. But today there weren’t even any fights to watch; they’d gotten pretty scarce lately, for some reason. Maybe people were just getting tired of the pointless dueling or something. Or not. Who cared?

The fact remained that MG was stone-cold bored out of his ******** gourd. There wasn’t even anything to eat—some a*****e had raided his secret stash of candy bars he’d hidden inside a month-old bag of moldy peas tucked away in the back of the freezer. And with no work for a half-crazy rogue mercenary, money was tighter than the corset of an 18th century, powdered-wig-wearing, opera-and-opium-loving harridan dandy.

Or whatever.

So there he was, sprawled out on the couch staring at a busted TV set like a deadbeat, with nothing to even contemplate doing that wasn’t incredibly boring.

That is, until space imploded right in front of him.

The middle of Rosso’s Place suddenly took on the guise of water swirling down a bathtub drain, or like one of those cool old screensavers that distorts your desktop in a spiral pattern when you quit ******** with it for a couple minutes. MG scrambled back over the couch and ducked behind it, peeking out to observe this bizarre phenomenon.

The whirlpool effect intensified: the subatomic, particulate aether that comprised what was generally conceived of as “reality” becoming so dense it achieved a tangible state, spinning more and more rapidly until a hole was torn in space/time.

“Neat.” MG said to himself, taking a picture of the freakish juxtaposition with his camera phone (which then exploded for reasons beyond the ken of normal science).

When the gateway had widened far enough for a person to pass through, and the din of the aetherial distortion was like a thousand voices screaming out dual cries of excruciating anguish and pleasurable ecstasy in unison amidst the roar of a class-five hurricane, a tall, lanky figure in a wide-brimmed hat strolled through it as casually as if he was walking through a field of posies.

The figure opened his mouth, seeming to say something important, but MG couldn’t hear a word of it over the ruckus caused by the space/time gateway.

Seeming annoyed by the noise, the figure in the large hat started pressing buttons on a device mounted on his wrist that resembled the love child of an espresso machine and a grandfather clock. Much to the visitor’s displeasure, the rift refused to close. MG could only watch as the man picked up a baseball bat from god-knows-where and started swinging it at the portal with reckless infuriation. Oddly enough, his swings caused the aetherial vortex to crack like glass, again and again until it crumpled in on itself and was nothing but a spinning wad of fragmented aether which the figure sent flying out the window with a final swing of his bat.

“Damn.” MG exclaimed, watching the knot of broken space arc through the air and land god-knows where.

”Damn.” The other man said in the exact same tone and inflection, sounding identical to his counterpart, only bluer. Upon closer inspection, MG noticed the other man looked exactly like him, aside from his clothes, brown hair, and yellow eyes.

“Who are you?” He asked, already knowing the answer but still needing to hear it.

”Me?” the other replied, ”I’m MG. Who are you, Mister Inquisitivepants?”

“I’m MG. The first MG.”

”Hah, that’s cool. I’m a big fan of your work, by which I mean our work, by which I mean MY work.”

“That totally makes so much sense. More sense than a federal penny stamper, stamping out cents all day long.” MG said with a grin he couldn’t help but show. “But how are you here? You were killed by The Everything Man.”

”Time travel, baby! I’m here to help you help me, so I can go back in time to help you help me. Awesome, right?” The other MG exclaimed, clenching his fist and giving his interdimensional metahuman counterpart a dynamic thumbs-up.

“Wow, what an incredibly fortuitious and clichéd piece of Deus ex Machina."

"I know, right?"

"Ok, I just have one more question.” Meta-MG said, standing tall and swinging his right arm out dramatically.

”Shoot.” Mecha-MG replied.

“Why are we so ******** amazing?”

”That may be the greatest question anyone has ever asked ever.”

The two MGs then proceeded to bump fists in a fashion so crazy amazing it destroyed a large array of awesomeness-scanning equipment maintained by a team of awesomeologists six states away.