Troy loomed, the colors of his outfit changing from green to yellow, as he turned into a much taller, more menacing figure - a Yellow Lantern. He held out his hand with his power ring and blasted Nico and Raph back, so hard they went crashing into the boughs of a nearby tree. Then he trapped them there with his ring, vines of yellow light pinning them to the branches.
His ring was strong. Far too strong to be easily broken by their green rings - or even Nico's spells. Clearly, this illusion had far more power here than they did.
"Don't listen to them, Abed. They're trying to make you see what they see, they're trying to control you. And you hate that, don't you? Nobody gets to control you. Nobody's ever managed to."
Abed stopped his squealing noise and recoiled from his friend, shaking his head furiously.
"My subconscious was trying to warn me," Abed said. "That's why you were invisible to them. As much as I want you here, a part of me knew you couldn't be. You left. You went to travel around the world. If this is real, you wouldn't have been there to get dragged into it with me and if this is all in my head, none of this is real and you're still not here."
"It can be as real as we want it to be, Abed," Troy went on. "It's just us now. We can stay like this, going wherever our imaginations take us. Forever. And it'll be more real than the Dreamatorium ever was."
"What about our friends?" Abed asked anxiously.
"What about them?" asked Troy. "We can make them here, just like we can simulate everyone else. That's how you treat them anyway, isn't it? Like they're simulations. It's too hard to figure out how to be friends with them when they're not doing what you want."
Around them appeared a group of people, floating around them in a circle. A tall man texting. A somewhat overweight black woman rifling through her purse. A young brunette woman organizing her binder. An older blonde woman wearing sunglasses and rubbing at her temples, clearly suffering from a hangover. An old man fumbling and nearly tripping over his own feet.
"What about Rachel?" Abed asked, and Troy waved his hand, and a young woman appeared next to Abed, a blonde woman with glasses and a crooked smile.
"Rachel. Rachels. You can have as many Rachels as you want. Princess Leia in a metal bikini Rachel." The woman's outfit was suddenly Princess Leia's metal bikini. "Green, dancing, hot alien babe from the original Star Trek Rachel."
Now the woman was a green Orion from Star Trek.
Abed glanced sideways at her and then stared at Troy accusingly.
"But it wouldn't be the real Rachel. If she can be anything, then she's not the one from our universe."
"It's better if she's not real, Abed. You already know what's going to happen, don't you? The real Rachel will get sick of you. It'll happen eventually - you know you can't stop it. She'll get tired of all the bits and the quirks and the things you do for attention."
"No," Abed said, shaking his head. "No, Rachel said I could stop worrying. She said as long as I didn't keep secrets or manipulate her that we'd be okay. She said I wasn't screwing things up."
"She was lying," said Troy, looming, his voice getting deeper and more menacing. "Do you really think that you'll have what you want out there? It'll happen the same as it always has, Abed, eventually everyone will get sick of you, and you'll go right back into that locker like before, where everyone can forget you. I mean, look at you, you can't even take care of yourself! You don't know how to file taxes, you have trouble tying your shoes, you can't even read analog clocks, and you were arrested by campus security for trying to duct tape someone's mouth shut for saying M. Night Shyamalan is a good director! Out there, by yourself, without me to help you? You'll be nothing! Because -"
"Because I don’t get married," Abed said, interrupting him, sounding as if he was referencing something, perhaps repeating something he told someone else. He was almost rocking slightly in the air, head weaving back and forth slightly. His eyes were somewhat glassy, though what he was truly feeling was impossible for Nico and raph to tell, whether it was what he saw as the truth hurting, or hearing something terrible use the voice of someone he missed to insult him. "I don’t invent a billion dollar website that helps people have sex. I don’t make it into Sundance, Slam Dance, or Dance Pants." He added, "Troy will invents Dance Pants in 2019. Don’t tell him; he needs to stumble onto it."
"...But I'm Troy."
Abed held up his fist and green light poured out of his Green Lantern ring in a wave, slamming "Troy" into a tree - freeing Nico and Raph.
"No, you're not," said Abed, his voice filled with absolute surety.
no subject
His ring was strong. Far too strong to be easily broken by their green rings - or even Nico's spells. Clearly, this illusion had far more power here than they did.
"Don't listen to them, Abed. They're trying to make you see what they see, they're trying to control you. And you hate that, don't you? Nobody gets to control you. Nobody's ever managed to."
Abed stopped his squealing noise and recoiled from his friend, shaking his head furiously.
"My subconscious was trying to warn me," Abed said. "That's why you were invisible to them. As much as I want you here, a part of me knew you couldn't be. You left. You went to travel around the world. If this is real, you wouldn't have been there to get dragged into it with me and if this is all in my head, none of this is real and you're still not here."
"It can be as real as we want it to be, Abed," Troy went on. "It's just us now. We can stay like this, going wherever our imaginations take us. Forever. And it'll be more real than the Dreamatorium ever was."
"What about our friends?" Abed asked anxiously.
"What about them?" asked Troy. "We can make them here, just like we can simulate everyone else. That's how you treat them anyway, isn't it? Like they're simulations. It's too hard to figure out how to be friends with them when they're not doing what you want."
Around them appeared a group of people, floating around them in a circle. A tall man texting. A somewhat overweight black woman rifling through her purse. A young brunette woman organizing her binder. An older blonde woman wearing sunglasses and rubbing at her temples, clearly suffering from a hangover. An old man fumbling and nearly tripping over his own feet.
"What about Rachel?" Abed asked, and Troy waved his hand, and a young woman appeared next to Abed, a blonde woman with glasses and a crooked smile.
"Rachel. Rachels. You can have as many Rachels as you want. Princess Leia in a metal bikini Rachel." The woman's outfit was suddenly Princess Leia's metal bikini. "Green, dancing, hot alien babe from the original Star Trek Rachel."
Now the woman was a green Orion from Star Trek.
Abed glanced sideways at her and then stared at Troy accusingly.
"But it wouldn't be the real Rachel. If she can be anything, then she's not the one from our universe."
"It's better if she's not real, Abed. You already know what's going to happen, don't you? The real Rachel will get sick of you. It'll happen eventually - you know you can't stop it. She'll get tired of all the bits and the quirks and the things you do for attention."
"No," Abed said, shaking his head. "No, Rachel said I could stop worrying. She said as long as I didn't keep secrets or manipulate her that we'd be okay. She said I wasn't screwing things up."
"She was lying," said Troy, looming, his voice getting deeper and more menacing. "Do you really think that you'll have what you want out there? It'll happen the same as it always has, Abed, eventually everyone will get sick of you, and you'll go right back into that locker like before, where everyone can forget you. I mean, look at you, you can't even take care of yourself! You don't know how to file taxes, you have trouble tying your shoes, you can't even read analog clocks, and you were arrested by campus security for trying to duct tape someone's mouth shut for saying M. Night Shyamalan is a good director! Out there, by yourself, without me to help you? You'll be nothing! Because -"
"Because I don’t get married," Abed said, interrupting him, sounding as if he was referencing something, perhaps repeating something he told someone else. He was almost rocking slightly in the air, head weaving back and forth slightly. His eyes were somewhat glassy, though what he was truly feeling was impossible for Nico and raph to tell, whether it was what he saw as the truth hurting, or hearing something terrible use the voice of someone he missed to insult him. "I don’t invent a billion dollar website that helps people have sex. I don’t make it into Sundance, Slam Dance, or Dance Pants." He added, "Troy will invents Dance Pants in 2019. Don’t tell him; he needs to stumble onto it."
"...But I'm Troy."
Abed held up his fist and green light poured out of his Green Lantern ring in a wave, slamming "Troy" into a tree - freeing Nico and Raph.
"No, you're not," said Abed, his voice filled with absolute surety.