THIS IS THE FINAL CHAPTER. ENJOY.


The sky above the club roiled with golden flames and unholy wails from invisible, tormented souls doomed to float above the heads of the damned for eternity. All was silent in the club; no one moved, no one dared to speak. Satan simply smiled his crooked, razor-sharp smile and lashed his tail in anticipation. Below the club's feet, eternally damned spirits of traitors, seducers, liars, cheaters, and politicians danced the satanic dance of the forbidden evils of mankind. There was nothing but silence and the wails of the tormented souls floating above.

The thoughts that swum through their heads were as varied as they were terrifying.

"There's nothing left in this old town – pick up your life and move it around. And what is here for me in Tennessee? Pick up your rifle and make a stand! You always said I should be like that guy, but guess what? I'm telling you – I'm not that guy! Who am I? I'm Andrew fucking Jackson, and my life sucks in particular!" Inside, AJ smiled with delight.

"Will I lose my dignity? Will someone care? Will somebody wake me up from this nightmare?" Tonks cried inside.

"Just gonna stand there and watch me burn – it's alright because I love the way it hurts. Just gonna stand there and watch me cry – well, it's alright because I love the way you lie. I love the way you lie!" Voldemort lustily sighed inside.

"I may be bad but I'm perfectly good at it – sex in the air? I don't care; I love the smell of it. Sticks and stones may break my bones but chains and whips excite me!" Inwardly, Bellatrix moaned with pleasure.

"Wake me up inside! Wake me up inside! Call my name and save me from the storm!" wailed Krum inwardly.

"Wow, what a bunch of fucking emos," muttered Satan. He could hear all.

Suddenly, a massive flaming supernova of sorts appeared on the horizon. It grew larger and larger as it slowly hovered toward the crowd.

Majestic and shining, like the Sun over the peaks of the Himalayas; beautiful yet dangerous, like a collapsing dwarf star.

Angel song seemed to emanate from its center – singing something vaguely sounding like "God Save The Queen" mashed up with "Zero" by the Smashing Pumpkins and remixed into a dubstep soundscape of majesty, epicness, rock, and utter confusion.

Inside the supernova one could make out a figure – no, a group of figures.

The supernova suddenly sped up and hovered above the pentagram table, emanating heat and frost and mystical energy and stardust and something smelling of incense and marijuana smoke. Once it was above the table, one could much more clearly see who was inside the nova.

Stephen Sondheim, J.K. Rowling, and Winston Churchill (who was curiously enough, riding a large winged lion) were inside the golden shimmering sphere of holy majesty, wearing matching silver robes and carrying what looked like diamond-speckled scepters of gold – no, platinum – no, gold. (One couldn't tell whether the scepters were gold or platinum; the gold light surrounding them made it hard to tell – oh, nevermind the bollocks, here's the Sex Pistols.)

The Holy Ones simply hovered above them.

Thunder and lightning crackled and exploded around everyone in the chamber.

The golden roiling flames above seemed to be sucked inside the godly supernova – everyone there, it seems, also appeared to be absorbed into the massive holy glowing orb of might and virtue and high-octane nightmare fuel and epic godliness.

Even Cthulhu was sucked in, although how he was transferred from his crevice in the abyss under the ocean to the burning plains of Hell, we shall never truly know...

In a flash, everything and everyone was gone. No one was spared. God works in mysterious ways sometimes. Life sucks sometimes; perhaps Andrew Jackson was right about that.

THE END.

Epilogue: Where Are They Now?

Nymphadora Tonks returned to the canon universe of the Harry Potter franchise, where she was reunited with her werewolf lover, Remus Lupin. She was properly killed off in the Spring of 1997.
Andrew Jackson went on to become a great success off-Broadway at the Public Theatre, transferring to Broadway in 2010 and playing 120 epic performances before being unfairly shut down by The Man. (Or was it those wealthy New England Congress fucks who tax us and play polo all day instead of defending the frontier?) He is now going by the name of Abraham Lincoln and is a professional vampire hunter. Yeah, he's just that badass.
Satan is still the Lord of Evil. And no, he was never elected President of the United States.
Viktor Krum was returned to Bulgaria, purged of his radiation poisoning and sins. He still plays Quidditch for the Bulgarian National Quidditch Team.
Bellatrix Lestrange was killed by an angry ginger housewife who called her a bitch.
Voldemort was killed by the Boy Who Lived when his wand backfired.
Sweeney Todd also pursued a career on Broadway, won Tonys up the wazoo, and eventually got a movie deal with Tim Burton.
Vlad Dracul was not really a vampire, but his life story inspired Bram Stoker to write the only great vampire novel.
No one knows what happened to the Zodiac Killer.
Jack the Ripper was probably an urban legend.
Alex DeLarge ended up back with his droogs. To learn more, watch the film "A Clockwork Orange." Also, read the book.
Bob was never truly an Antichrist, but many believe he is.
Spider-Man: Turn Off The Dark was not nominated for any Tonys.
Maximillian Robespierre was a French Revolutionary. Known as "Maximilien The Incorruptible" by his friends, he inwardly preferred "Seximillian Robespierre" as his nickname. He was guillotined by angry French rebels.
Josef Stalin was a bad man. But not as bad as Hitler.
Adolf Hitler was the second Antichrist.
Abu Abbas, as it turns out, was never an Antichrist.
Saddam Hussein was hiding in a hole when the US Army found him. He later died.