For as long as humanity has been around, the pattern has repeated itself. Over and over and over again. As if the universe is nothing more than a machine, or worse, a game. Over and over, it has happened, is happening, and presumably will be happening again in the future. Eternal recurrence. The hero of a thousand faces. The Hero's Journey has been repeating itself throughout history without even a hint of failure. Always, there is an incident. A war, a battle, a death, someone going missing, or just an oath sworn under ill-timed moments. But it is always the same, the Young Hero arises from cosmos(the order of the home), and goes out into the chaos(the larger world) to fulfil a task. Rescuing a beloved one. Finding a long lost parent. Completing a sacred oath taken by their ancestor thousands of years ago. That, in and of itself, doesn't matter. And it ends the same. The hero with a thousand faces rides out and fights the foe, faces evil forces, and comes back stronger and wiser, having completed their goal, rescued the girlfriend/boyfriend/spouse/pet/child/parent, etc. and probably saving the world somehow.

But why does that happen. Scholars have wondered this for ages, or at least as long as people started to notice the pattern. Started to notice that when the third son of a peasant went out on a journey that his older, smarter, and stronger brothers have failed, he will inevitably win and marry the princess. Started to notice that young girls who passed three sacred tests would come home from the woods carrying the dead wolf on their backs. Started to notice that a hero, almost always in dark times when all hope seems lost, arises from nothing, and restores order in a thematically satisfactory manner. If one asked them about their journey, about their strange quest, they would note that in hindsight their sudden meteoric rise from assistant pigkeepers to high kings seem a bit unlikely. That the lowly and poor bard who would somehow kill the evil sorcerer when a thousand warriors could not do it, rescuing the sultan's daughter, and becoming royalty in some far off land, isn't particularly probable nor even suitable for kingship.

Thaumaturgic researchers, alchemists, practical historians, and proto-archeaologists, all came together to try and find out what exactly was going on, and why. Funded by worried kings, powerful merchants, archmages, and other high lords who were increasingly incapable of getting marriage alliances because their sons kept running away after getting rescued by handsome knights from dragons, and that their daughters kept getting saved by noble bandit princesses, who were oh-so-dashing. And always, these people were heroes. Out on a great and powerful journey. Leaving their home behind, to brave the chaotic unknown. Nothing in the world could ever hope to stop them. No army could stop them, no force could bar their way for long, and no wizard could hold them with powerful magic. That's concerning on multiple levels.

Of course, the best way to find out was quite simple. The powerful scholars set out to define precisely what the Hero's Journey needed, in order to engineer one. And it was clever. A volunteering dragon kidnapped a princess, who's father was in the know about the operation. A call was sent out into the land for some brave soul to try and rescue her. Predictably, normal knights, and various worthy people tried and failed to rescue the princess. But one day some peasant boy came around, dirty as if he had lived in a mudhole, and swore to rescue the princess and defeat the evil dragon. Which immediately marked him as one of the thousand faces of the primordial hero. The dragon was informed, and instead of fighting the peasant boy directly, it told challenged him to do something. The dragon gave the boy a magical gem that was attuned to find out the source of all heroism, which would theoretically work, but in practice, it had been impossible for ordinary people to use it, as the quest that the gem led them on usually killed them, or at the very least horribly maimed them.

The peasant boy accepted this challenge in exchange for getting the princess freed upon his return. All he had to do was to follow the glowing light of the gem's internal magical tracking spells to the target, and then open the gem. Of course the boy wasn't told about this, and was just told it led to someone who could order the dragon to release the princess. The peasant, being a hero but not a particularly intelligent one, followed the instructions without thinking. Through dark mountains that would have been the death of ordinary men. Through dry deserts that even camels would have balked at, he walked. Across tumultuous oceans, under the mantle of the Earth, through the sky. Until something broke on a mathematically impossible level, opening a strange fractal hole in reality, which the peasant boy walked through.

On the other side he opened the gem as instructed, and inside the various mages and scholars emerged, telling the boy to head home and tell the dragon that the package had been delivered, upon which the dragon would release the princess. That otherside, was the outside of time and space; a realm of raw firmament, raw potentiality. Of the is-not becoming the what-is. And there, like an obsessed mad creature, was the source of the Heroes. The originator of the Journey. A terrible thing, made from many creatures. A knight in shining armour, a dread wolf that walks on two legs with its infinitely wide maw filled with trillions of sharp teeth; a vicious dragon spewing forth unreal fires burning away at creation, a princess of impossible beauty that was painful to behold, a peasant boy or girl of unmatched plainness. All of them standing in the same place, their particles sharing the same space, merging and unmerging like some incomprehensible thing that cannot decide what shape it should have.

"What do you think?" the Director asked.

Phil knew better than to imagine the Director did not already have an explanation - possibly the explanation. However, looking at the corpses slumped all over the lab, he had a feeling that he did not want to know the answer.

"They triggered the Omega intruder Defense" Tony pointed out - even the normally unflappable lunatic was silenced by the sheer scope of the disaster before them. Not a quip from him since the moment of entering the lab. "Nerve gas. All dead within a couple of minutes or less."

"They triggered it" Steve echoed, looking around the carnage disbelievingly "Why? What could have been... It can't have been mind control - the labs are well insulated against it."

The Director nodded "They did this of their own will."

Steve and Tony glanced at each other. "Project Alpha" Steve said with an air of finality. It was not a question. The Director had no intention of denying it. After all, this was the entire reason he had summoned the team here.

The time for secrets was over. He now knew what Project Alpha had discovered. He now knew how it all worked. That kind of knowledge was not the type one man could bear alone - not even a man like the Director.

"They figured it out?" Tony frowned - this is not really his area of specialty. "That crackpot theory of Richards'..."

"They figured it out" the Director confirmed, his tone heavy. "And they decided they could not live with it."

"And we are here because?" Natasha asked.

The Director met her eyes calmly "To see whether we can live with it."

"Do we get a choice?" Bruce asked "You know, regarding we get told or not?"

"You can walk out that door" the Director shrugged "Go right ahead, if you wish.."

No one made a move. The Director smiled. He knew his people.

"The Hero's Journey" he could almost hear the air quotes in his own words.

It sounded pretty pretentious, when you put it like that. But the fact of the matter is, that was what they were - heroes.

Screwed up, of course, occasionally emotionally constipated, almost always with the survival instincts of a squirrel on crack cocaine. Yet...heroes.

People who got back up every time they were knocked down. People who stood in the dark to hold it at bay. Scarred people, crazy people, dangerous people.

People who did what had to be done. People who held the monsters at bay. Their defense against darkness and whatever dwelt within.

Heroes. Stories of a specific pattern, repeated throughout the ages. One in a million chances. Freak accidents. Mutations. Chances. They came up, one way or the other. Always following a pattern. And now...now they knew why.

"You - or rather, they - found the Guide." Steve said.

The Director nodded "In a manner of speaking, yes."

"And..."

"We are not human."

A stunned silence greeted the pronouncement. Not even Tony laughed. They knew, instinctively, that this was no trick, no joke.

The Director gestured around the place "This is not earth."

"Then?"

"We are the Immune System."

"Excuse me?"

"Humanity's immune system. Earth - earth as they know it - is one plane among many, one plane amidst a sea of chaos. A sea from which things creep out, again and again and again. Reaching out for earth. For humanity. Infections. Things that would devour humanity, body mind and soul."

"And we...we are..."

"The defense. Formed of their collective subconscious. Formed to be their defense. Formed between them and the madness out there. The Knight. The Atoner. The Spy. We are here, buffers against the things that crawl out of the dark."

Locked in eternal battle. there will never be a time when earth as they know it will be safe. There will always be one crisis or another. There will always be things to fight, things out of the true humanity's vast nightmares. Things they will have to battle here, hold at bay, forever and forever.

They, the archetypes, the heroes, the guardians carved out of humanity's dreams. The last line of defense for a world that stranded them in eternal strife.

The first discoverers had been unable to bear that weight - they had chosen to die, instead. Perhaps some of his team will choose the same, the Director supposed, noting how pale, how still, they had gone.

But that wouldn't matter. They would not be allowed to stay dead. Not for long. Not for real. There will be a miracle recovery. A deal made. Time Travel. Somehow, the dead will not be allowed to rest.

They are the archetypes. They are the dreams. They will never be allowed to die. They will return. Again and again and again.

I've been stuck in the elevator for a very long time with Giselle, Armelinda, and Kylie. It's weird. Our hair hasn't grown. Nobody has had to pee. Yet it's obvious that a lot of time has passed because Giselle is deconstructing. Armelinda and Kylie have barely done more than check their makeup, talk business, and nod sympathetically as Giselle dissects her past.

For a long time I've known that I am a supporting player in Giselle's life. I've also realized that Armelinda and Kylie are sidekicks. Tropes. They could be any two pretty girls who care about their pretty friend and support her narrative. Right now they are planning the next social media ad blitz.

What I haven't known until now is my role in this story. I thought I was an unlikely and more perceptive sidekick. Not pretty in the traditional sense. More like an advisor than a sidekick. After all this time to reflect in this elevator I realize that I am The Mentor. Usually the mentor is older, not a peer, but I'm an old soul. I am the one who provides Giselle with information and psychological support. I gently nudge her decision-making. And she gets the credit. It's been that way since we were kids. Unlike the other three I majored in literature in college. So while Giselle has been deconstructing and

My conversation with Giselle in the elevator has been a lot of back and forth, helping her deconstruct from her parent's influence. She's been stuck in the cave. We've spent far longer on the threshold. We graduated from college and opened an online fashion outlet that is reasonably profitable. The four of us have found SOs with whom we are reasonably happy. We each have purchased decent starter homes in okay neighborhoods where we park our mid-priced medium-sized SUVs. No bumps in the road. No personal growth. Just day after day of walking our respective poodle mixes and getting massages.

Until this elevator. And nothing bad had happened in here either. Except that I've realized that we are as physically stuck as we have been metaphorically stuck.

The elevator doors open. We are greeted by a friendly man in basic business attire.

"Right this way."

"Do you remember why we're here?" Giselle whispers.

"We've been in that elevator so long I've forgotten," Armelinda whispers back.

Kylie shakes her head and I shrug.

We are led into to a conference room and asked to sit.

"I hope the wait isn't as long as the elevator ride," Armelinda jokes. She's the funny one.

The door opens and a person walks in. They fill the room. I can't describe it any other way.

"Allison. We need to talk."

I look at my companions who seem to be calmly sipping on coffee and looking at a screen in the conference room.

"They aren't having the same experience right now. They are listening to a new designer pitch their small clothing line. It will be a big break for all of you."

"Sorry? I'm not following."

"Allison. You figured something out in the elevator didn't you?"

The eyes hold me. I feel exposed. Known.

"I kept you there long enough for Giselle to work through what's been holding her back. And for you to understand your role in her story."

"Who are you? What is this?"

"I am the writer of the story you are in, among others."

"Well, couldn't you have just put the thoughts in our heads then?"

"That doesn't always work. Not for this type of story. Giselle thinks she's in a romantic comedy right now. She's had a sparkling life with funny little inconveniences and cute skirmishes with her love interest. But in that elevator she's remembered the traumas of her childhood. And they are dark. She hasn't told you everything. She will. And her boyfriend. She will tell him."

"I suspected something when we were kids."

"Of course you did. I made you perceptive. Maybe too perceptive. You were not actually supposed to realize this isn't your own narrative. The trick of writing life is that everyone needs to think they are the main character in their own narrative and also as supporting characters in their loved ones narratives. Otherwise mental health devolves quickly."

"Am I going crazy? Is that what this is?"

"Not at all. It's just that Giselle's narrative is central to affecting change in the world. Yours isn't. It's not that you don't matter on a micro level. Just not so much on a macro level. Except in the way that you influence Giselle. So far you have done a stellar job. But now it's Mike's turn to take that role."

"So it will get serious with them."

"Very."

'Okay, so I'm the mentor. How am I supposed to ment."

The writer smiles.

"When the time comes you will say wise things. Beautiful, memorable things. You will hear them in your head as they come from your mouth. It will feel natural at the time. It will be soon. And then your part in the story will be over."

"Over?"

"I can't tell you what a joy you've been to write. I've tried and tried different versions to get the same result. In a story like this, the main character must experience loss. The thing with her parents is the start. But, on order to move where she needs to be even Giselle's positive ties with her past need to be severed."

"Me."

"You."

"Where will I go?" I know already but I want to make them say it.

The kindest, gentlest voice answers, "Your death is pivotal. It will bring movement, wisdom, strength, empathy, power into Giselle's character. She and Mike will become forces for good in the world. Armelinda and Kylie will become three dimensional."

Tears roll down my cheeks. "It's hard to take. Not mattering in my own right."

They nod, "For what it's worth, writing you has been one of the delights of my infinitely long stint as a life writer. I have tried killing off every other character in hundreds of thousands of drafts. I broke the wall to tell you how much you mean. Giselle's childhood trauma is good for a few more years. She'll need you for that. I promise to write in some delightful surprises just for you. You won't remember this conversation. But from now on your instinct will be to live as if every day might be your last."

"Thanks for that, I guess."

Giselle, Armelinda, and Kylie are standing, laughing, talking excitedly to the young man who met us at the elevator. Beautiful clothing samples hang around the conference room. I am sitting, dazed. My coffee is cold. My mind wandered. I get up to go and stand beside Giselle. I sense she is going to need me.

It took so much to get here. Upon identifying the Hero's Journey cycle, scientists began observing it. They found the core pieces of the cycle- a powerful enemy appeared somewhere, put a person or group of people in danger, and an underdog nobody went on a journey to get stronger and ultimately defeat the enemy. Each cycle had its own variations, of course, but those were the key elements that always occurred. Once the pattern was identified, committees were formed and billions of taxpayer dollars were spent carrying out tests and experiments to figure out why this kept happening. After decades of work and fifty seven cycles, they determined that some source from an alternate dimension was somehow causing the Hero's Journey cycles, sending signals or radio waves or something to Earth.

Gary was a little fuzzy on the technical details, but it didn't really matter. The sciency folks had opened a dimensional rift and were sending him through to figure out what exactly the source was and see if he could stop it. Gary was one of the engineers for the project. Well, not for the inter-dimensional portal side of the project. He worked with the appliances in the building that the development team worked in, but he considered himself just as much a part of the team as anyone else. They'd sent him through because he was expendible and they didn't know what would happen on the other side of the portal, but Gary didn't mind. He got to be the first person to travel through a dimensional portal, and he thought that was pretty darn cool.

But when he did step through, all thoughts of dimensional travel left his mind. One second he was in the lab, the next he was in what looked like a regular living room. It was floored with soft carpet and the walls were painted a creamy beige. A brown fabric couch sat against a wall, opposite a wide flat-screen television. There was a coffee table in front of the couch with a party-size bag of Cheetos, open and mostly empty, laying on it. On the couch under a soft-looking plaid blanket lounged an androgynous human, watching the television and holding a bowl of Cheetos in their lap.

This was not what Gary had been expecting.

The being looked up from the TV at Gary and smiled. Cheesy orange dust was smeared all over its face.

"Hey!" it said with a wave. Cheeto dust also covered its fingers. It looked back to the screen. "Have a seat, watch some TV with me."

Not sure what else to do, Gary walked over and took a seat on the couch next to it.

"Thanks," he said.

Sitting next to it, he was increasingly certain the being on the couch was not human. It looked human, sure, but it had an sense of immense power around it. The air almost vibrated with the sheer force coming off it. There was something else that Gary couldn't put his finger on, but he knew instinctually that it wasn't human. The couch was soft, though, and the being had invited him. He laid back, getting comfortable.

"What are you?" Gary asked, direct but not brusque. He was not one for subtelty. The being snorted.

"Who cares?" it replied, not looking away from the TV. "Just chill and watch the show with me." It ate a Cheeto.

Gary did not. Instead, he looked around the room. There were no windows or doors, no apparent entrance. It was just a self-enclosed room. He also noticed that the dimensional rift he'd come through was gone, but he stayed calm. The scientists on Earth would come get him, and the whole situation was really quite comfortable.

"Where did you get the Cheetos?" he inquired.

"Does it matter?" the being's responded indifferently.

"Are you the one that causes the Hero's Journey cycles?"

"Yeah."

"Why?"

"'Cause it's fun." It nodded at the TV. "Stop asking questions and watch. This is the good part."

Gary looked at the TV. It showed a small, dire-faced woman with a sword and a ragtag group of friends fighting an evil wizard. Gary recognized this as the current Hero's Journey that was happening on Earth. The woman dodged a fireball and lunged, piercing the wizard's sternum with her sword.

"Ahh, you can't let 'em get close, bro. That's where they get you," the being commented through a mouthful of Cheetos. It shook its head at the TV and offered the bowl to Gary. "Cheeto?"

Gary took a couple. He liked Cheetos.

"I always like this show. Earth is one of the better worlds I've created," the being said while the hero and her friends left the wizard's residence to share the news of their victory. "Still, after fifty seven seasons, it gets a little dull. I've been thinking about cancelling it."

Gary pondered what this would mean for Earth.

"Sure, I can understand that," Gary agreed with the being. "But can you cancel the show without canceling the planet?" The being looked over at him.

"Oh yeah, that's your home, isn't it? You seem like a pretty cool guy, I won't hurt your planet when I cancel the show." Gary was relieved. "There are plenty of other shows about Earth to watch, too."

"Thanks."

They watched the show in silence for a while.

"Hey," Gary said, "you created Earth, yeah? And you cause the Hero's Journey to happen? How much do you control on Earth?"

"Everything," the being replied.

"Do you think you could do something about war and disease and global warming? Those kinda suck."

"Sure, I could do something about them," the being said. "But it's much more fun to watch you all figure it out. You don't learn anything if you don't work your way through the challenges."

Gary thought about that as the two of them continued watching the TV and waiting for Earth's scientists to reopen the portal. Eventually, a portal did appear and Gary stood up to leave.

"This is pretty nice," Gary noted. "Can I come back here sometime?"

"Nah," the being replied. "I'll have to block portals. Your scientists have figured out how to get to me here and I don't want them messing with me. Actually, if you don't mind, would you ask them to not try to come after me again? Also don't say too much about me. I like to be mysterious."

Gary was a little sad about that. There was something exceedingly comfortable about this place. He agreed to the requests, though, and waved goodbye as he stepped through the portal back to Earth.

The scientists cheered when they saw him. The first inter-dimensional trip had been a success. Several of them rushed up to him, asking about his experience.

"Well," Gary said. "I struck a bargain. The Hero's Journey cycle will end, but we can't open any more portals."

And despite the demands and even threats of the scientists, he wouldn't say any more about it.

When he got home that day, he found a note on his kitchen table next to an odd cube with a button on it.

​

It was nice hanging out with you, Gary.

I hope you don't mind, but the next time you check your bank account you should find that you're a multi-millionaire. Also, push the button on this cube.

~~~

​

The note was not signed, but it didn't really need to be. He examined the cube and pushed the button. Suddenly, he was back in the room with the being.

"Hey Gary!" it waved from the couch. "Have a seat, let's watch TV."

Gary smiled and sat down and they watched TV.

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[deleted]

"Cycle 168 has just concluded," a scientist announce out loud, "results of analyzation shows 94% similarity with that of the last cycle."

"Interesting...so it is a loop," Antoine mumbles, "is the suspect from last time still there?"

"Yes sir," the researcher confirms.

Antoine then reaches for his earpiece and speaks into it, "he's there, find him and apprehend him."

It has been confirmed that there is always a figure that would be there for the final showdown every single time. It can't be the hero's bestfriend as he's always right there with him nor can it be his love interest since she's always in the hospital, so, who else could it be? This might be the key to solving this never ending cycle, which is why scientists have colluded with mercenaries to help them capture this figure.

Normally they'd ask for help from the military, but as records suggest, they're too loud and seeing military vehicles on the site will capture attention. Mercenaries on the other hand doesn't catch as much.

A few hours later, the hired mercenaries returned with the suspect. The leader pushes the suspect to the ground and leaves after receiving payment.

"Well, seems like we finally have you in custody," Antoine approaches the figure, "are you going to say something?"

The suspect stays silent.

"Seems like we'll have to deal with you another day," Antoine clicks his tongue, "take him to confinement, we'll see what information we can extract from him tomorrow."

The suspect stayed quiet the next day as well, and the next, and the next, not even the torture methods work on him. He seems to be keen on keeping his mouth shut.

"Just speak up already, it'll be easier for all of us," Antoine tries to reason after an entire week of not being able to extract information.

"It'll be easier for me, not you," the suspect finally speaks.

"How so?" Antoine asks.

"Unfortunately, I am unable to answer that."

After that, he goes back to being silent. Giving up, Antoine finally contacts a friend he knows that has never failed to extract information from anyone, even the most stubborn of people. Thankfully, she was available for the week and immediately flies to the lab and gets interrogating.

"Hm....give me 2 days of complete silence and seclusion, I'll be able to get something out," she says after looking through the records Antoine and his team has collected in the past week.

Thankfully, two days later she did come back out with a lot of intel, one no one else could've gotten.

"He says he's the 'Keeper of Stories' or some sort. His job is to make sure each story is retold perfectly to keep the legend going. He also told me to not try and stop this loop as there will always be a way for him to keep it flowing."

"What if we kill him?" Antoine asks.

"Then a new one will be appointed, that's how it always is," the friend shrugs, "oh and he wants to talk to you."

After seeing his friend off, Antoine went into the confinement room to privately speak with the keeper.

"Finding me is your biggest mistake," is the first thing the keeper says once the door to the room has been shut, "you scientists have gotten more and more arrogant."

Antoine looks at the keeper, confused by his words. As scientists, it's his job to find out the secrets of this world and understand it, in his point of view, there's nothing wrong with wanting to know as to why the same cycle has been repeating throughout the century.

"Elaborate," Antoine demands, grabbing a chair and sitting down.

The keeper sighs, "Well, since the damage has been done, might as well go through with it."

"Long ago, when the first cycle of this story began, the hero and the keeper are friends, good friends. The hero is a brave daredevil while the keeper is wise and a genius. The keeper guided the hero to his final goal and once reached, a book appeared before him. This book has strange markings on them."

--------------------------

"I've never seen a book with such design...how exquisite..." the keeper thought to himself.

"[] come on! You're going to miss the celebration!" the hero called out to his dear friend.

"I'll be there! Just give me a moment," the keeper calls out.

Out of curiosity, the keeper opens the book and a blinding light engulfs the room and he got transported.

--------------------------

"Legend has it that he was never heard from again, of course, that is to the general point of view. To some of us who are chosen, this cycle repeats over, and over again. A new keeper will be chosen once the last hero finish their story to make sure it will repeat without fail."

"I still don't understand why it's our biggest mistake," Antoine leans on his chair.

"The story does not end there...."

--------------------------

"If anyone were to find out about you and those who will come after, everything will be reset back to zero, and the world that shall be built will be nothing but the stuff of imagination," a voice says.

"What does that mean?" the keeper asks.

"It means your existence has to be kept a secret, and it will be your duty to choose your predecessor. [ ]"

--------------------------

"Wait wait, then what?" Antoine asks with urgency.

"I'm afraid that's only something the original keeper knows," the keeper stops and looks at the clock, "it seems like our time is up. Good bye, seeker of truths."

"Wait-!"

A loud, ear splitting bang came from the keeper and everything turned white.

​

The cycle will repeat itself, over and over again until the end of time, it just happens to have ended in this timeline.