::::ATTENTION NEW READERS::::

This is Part 3 of a hopefully 8 part series. If you have not read Part 1 or 2, please read it or else you may be completely lost and confused.

This is a connection story between Adventure Time and Regular Show, and not just a random "portal" cross-over, this story portrays both shows as if they are in the same universe.

Also, the ideas in this story were created BEFORE Margaret leaves for college in "Steak me Amadeus" in Regular Show and IMMEDIATELY BEFORE "Blades of Grass" and after "Apple Wedding" (which means his demon blood sword is broken and Mr. Pig and Treetrunks just got married) in Adventure Time. This means that there was no CJ yet, Finn never met his father nor got his arm cut off, and he is still dealing with Flame Princess.

This story is too large to make into one story so it will be broken up into multiple parts, spending time equally in both Regular Show and Adventure Time universes. Follow me, the author (GearSolidSnake), for the future stories after each one.

Enjoy!

Disclaimer: I do not own Regular Show or Adventure Time, all rights are reserved by Cartoon Network. None of these characters or these items are owned by me.

As always, the song for this chapter is "Goodbye Blue Sky"-Pink Floyd.

The soft wind flowed through the green oasis of the city park. Trees rustled as the cool summer air blew. A young, round headed child was busy inspecting the butterfly on a nearby bush. He held a large, swirly lollipop in one hand. His suit was elegant and fanciful, an open resemblance of his father's wealth.

He stood in awe at the bright colors of the harmless creature. As it fluttered by, the child laughed gaily. It floated just within reach, but flew further away when the boy reached out for it.

He went on enjoying his candy and frolicking in his father's park. A little ways up the path, he saw Skips. The boy considered Skips his closest friend.

Finally, his father came walking by. Skips came to meet him. The boy listened in, "Now, Skips, I think a gazebo here would look wonderful! You get a clear view of the lake, not to mention the- Pops, my boy!"

The man noticed the child. A young Pops ran to his father, "Daddy!" He ran up to his father.

"So, how's that new hat treating you?"

The boy raised a hand to his head. The top hat he wore was so comfortable, he practically forgot it was still on his head. "It's wonderful! It's the best gift ever!" Pops proclaimed.

Mr. Maellard chuckled at his son's innocence, "Hehe, that's great son!"

Skips, who wore a workman's brown shirt and suspended pants, asked the child, "Say, we're looking for things to add to the park. Any ideas?"

Pops' eyes widened. Oh, the possibilities! With excited energy, he proclaimed, "A Ferris Wheel! A circus! A giant petting zoo with the biggest animals!"

Mr. Maellard patted Pops' large head as a large signal to stop. "Only the best for you, Pops," he said.

A soft rumbling was heard. Pops looked upwards. "Dad, what is that?"

"Oh, that's just one of those aeroplanes."

"Can we get one of those?!"

"Maybe. Who knows."

Pops continued looking at the metal contraption. It glistened in the backdrop of the blue sky.

Many years later, that same rumbling was heard.

The light of the blue sky was clouded by unending darkness.

A proud city now stood a decadent ruin.

Fires dotted the town as buildings crumbled and lay in pieces.

The overhead highway, broken, only stood with small patches of road atop the support columns left over.

Cars were turned over and many were crushed by the concrete and bricks which flooded the streets.

The unlucky lay dead on the pavement Blood ran into the storm sewers.

The smell was distinct and nauseating. A hand reached out from a pile of rubble.

At the square, a now much older Pops lay with a large amount of rock and debris crushing everything beneath his chest. He was just another victim, another casualty of the battle.

Overhead, the few remaining American F-22s performed a fly over of the city. The roars of their engines rang out through the rubble. Their mere existence stood as a mere mockery. "We won!" The dead always disagree.

Did you see the frightened ones?

Still, many clung on despite the despair.

Did you hear the falling bombs?

Rigby walked through the empty, barren streets. Small pockets of fires dotted the road ahead. His head craned downward, keeping his gaze not on what's ahead, but rather the hard ground which he tread.

"Why did this happen?"

Everywhere sat death and destruction. The bombs decimated the town. Rigby tripped over a small piece of rubble only to crash to the ground.

He was still in a daze from what he had to do earlier. He stabbed Mordecai in the heart.

He deserved it. Mordecai killed Eileen. Mordecai gave him the book.

Mordecai deserved what he got.

He never did anything wrong.

"Then why do I feel so bad?" he pondered as he continued onward.

All around him sat death and destruction. The buildings stood as ghostly shells of their former selves. Chunks of concrete flooded down from the wreckage. Only very few remained untouched.

Elsewhere, a young robin ventured through the town.

She held a small glock in her hands. Her friend gave it to her. She eyed the lonely streets looking for a friendly face.

A mangled corpse of a young woman lay on the sidewalk. A crow descended and began to pick at the cheek. Two more joined in. The first one, with red liquid dripping from its beak, turned to the intruding robin. It gawked fiercely at the girl.

Margaret hid her eyes. The woman before her could not be more than thirty. That could have been her...

She sprinted away, face wet with anxious sweat. She clutched the remnants of a wall that was formally supporting a brick building. She shivered. The robin struggled to maintain her sanity.

The dried, foul air felt as though it was choking her. She gagged as tears trickled down. She leaned against the structure only for it to collapse under her weight. A small plume of smoke and dust scattered the area from the falling brick.

In empty anguish and anger she kicked the rubble.

A crow perched itself on a nearby light post. It eyed her viciously. Margaret took it as a sign to keep moving.

Did you see the frightened ones?

Benson stood alone on the road. He loosely held the AR at his knees. He peered at the grey sky hanging over the dead city.

Pops died on his watch.

He cringed.

Never again...

No one is dying anymore...

The flames are all long gone, but the pain lingers on.

A slumped body lay in a musty office hallway. His blood coated the wall behind him and stained his white shirt to a deep red.

A day before, he met his end at the hands of a friend.

The Ice Crown lay beside him.

His hands lay motionless on the ground.

Just another victim.

Goodbye blue sky.

The ice Crown doesn't give up that easily.

Goodbye blue sky.

Goodbye.

The body shifted as a breath of needed air was drawn.

Goodbye...

Chronicles of the Enchiridion Part 3: What's Left Behind

The body awoke completely. Its eyes opened hazily, as though awaking from a long sleep. He sat propped against the wall.

"What was I just doing? I... I think..."

He leaned over, putting his head into his hands. He felt groggy. For some reason, something couldn't feel right.

"Just keep it together Morde-... Simon...?" For some reason, he couldn't tell who he truly was. For some reason, those two names erupted in his mind.

The thick smell of blood now faded into a light aroma. The man looked downwards. His white beard was at least to his collar bones. Past it, his shirt was still coated in blood.

He panicked.

Quickly, he shuffled in his position, frantically feeling his chest for a wound. His breathing intensified.

Nothing.

Confused, he unbuttoned his previously white shirt. There was a patch of ice bridging the gap between his skin. It looked as though it was covering the wound. He hardly felt it as he brushed it with his hands.

He covered his bloody shirt by buttoning his suit vest. At least he didn't look as dead. Yet, inside he knew that he should not be living anymore.

For some reason, he felt different. An arm reached to inspect his face. There was no beak. In fact, the face itself was rather human in nature.

He turned.

Oh...

There you are...

The golden, ruby-encrusted Ice Crown sat on the ground beside him. It almost seemed to perch upon hearing its owners call. It stared right back at Simon.

"I... guess I should thank you for saving my life," he chuckled lightly. His voice was marked by insurmountable fear, and yet, relief.

His hands shook as they reached out for the tempting gold.

Its mere touch sent chills down Mordecai's spine.

He hilted the ice crown to a loop on his belt.

The man was at the same time, yet neither, Simon and Mordecai. Two broken memories.

Mordecai knew he was just fighting someone, or something.

He lost.

He didn't know why he fought or where he should be going. Simon didn't even know where the hell he even was. But if one thing is certain, the Crown is all he has left for the moment.

Simon slowly lifted to his feet using the wall for support. He then left the building, his destination unknown.

Rigby wandered through the destruction. He tread heavily as his feet trudged up and down with a systematic dullness.

"Rigby?!"

He froze. A voice rang out behind him with surprising fervor. He knew whose it was.

"RIGBY!" Margaret called out as her running footsteps pattered on the ground.

Rigby remained frozen. He hadn't seen her since yesterday. He pondered, "What do I tell her?"

He turned only to be embraced by an over reaching hug. Margaret wrapped her arms around the small raccoon.

The last person to really hug Rigby like this was Eileen. This felt foreign to him. But it was warm and caring.

With shaking arms, Rigby slowly returned the hug.

He closed his eyes and buried his face into her chest.

"I-I can't find anyone else," Margaret said still embracing the hold. Tears were beginning to form in her eyes. She was so relieved to finally meet a familiar face again.

Rigby knew hat was coming. With his on body shaking with anxiety, he replied, "I can't either."

Margaret let go. Rigby hesitated before retracting himself. Margaret wiped her eyes with her arm. She laughed with joy, "I can't believe I found you. I'd just about given up hope."

Rigby asked, "How did you make it out?"

"I hid in an apartment basement once everything started happening. When I woke up this morning, there wasn't even a first floor."

Rigby chuckled, his own eyes starting to water. Overcome with emotion, he awkwardly said, "I-I'm glad... you're still here..." They were both just relieved to find someone else; a friend. "I think it's just you and me."

The last phrase hit both of them.

They may be the last ones left that they know of.

Pops, Benson, Skips; they might already be gone.

Margaret saw the sadness in Rigby's voice. She opened her mouth to speak only to be met with another hug by Rigby.

"What did he mean by that? He's not saying..."

She began to piece things together. She noticed Rigby's clothing was gone; only the red bag remained. Rigby had ditched his blood coated wardrobe. She asked without ceasing the hug, "What happened to your clothes?"

Rigby hesitated, "Oh, I-uh, they kinda got really dirty. I-I slipped and fell in a mud puddle and-"

"Where's Mordecai?"

Rigby froze.

Margaret's heart began to race in anticipation.

She broke the hug and slowly backed a few steps away.

"Rigby... where's Mordecai?"

The raccoon stood there, unable to move. His eyes were locked somewhere off in space.

"R-Rigby, I need to know. Where's Mordecai?"

No response.

"Please, just tell me something, anything! What happened to him?!" she asked. A different kind of tear now gathered in her eyes. "Please!"

Rigby struggled to hide his feelings. Listening to her anxiety caused him to have tears of his own. He turned to the ground.

Margaret's face quickly changed to one of cold realization. "No... no, he-he can't. Rigby, he's-..."

She cringed. Her hands ran through the feathers on her head. She collapsed to her knees.

"He can't be dead! He-...augh!" Margaret cried inexorably. Her face welled as her eyes leaked out. She shook with each violent sob. She was at a total loss for words.

Rigby felt saddened for his friend. He reached out a hand to her shoulder. She immediately recoiled; "Get away from me!"

"Margaret-?"

"You killed him! Why?! Wh-y-y-y?"

"I-he... he would've killed me," Rigby lied. Mordecai gave him a chance to go.

"He was a dad," she responded.

Rigby tried to justify himself, "He-listen, Margaret, he killed Eileen! I-it wasn't my fault!" He also began to cry.

She lashed out, beating his chest with her fists,"You monster! You moster-r-r!" Her hysterics slowly died down as she was left kneeling on the ground, her face buried into her elbows.

Rigby, his eyes welling, "Margaret, please, I'm sorry!-"

He froze again. Why the hell is he apologizing?

Why is it that every single time he does something, its always the wrong thing! Every time! Why can't he do anything right?! "I'm trying at least, okay?! I tried and no I'm getting blamed for everything!"

He dried his eyes.

His attitude turned bitter.

Rigby said coldly, "He got what he deserved."

"Rigby..." she said looking up, her face still soaked with tears.

Rigby felt a ping of guilt only to shut it back out; "I did what I had to."

He turned and began to move away from the scene.

"Rigby," she weakly called from behind, "Where are you going?!"

He hardly noticed, nor cared.

Suddenly, his hunches flared up. His senses grew alert. The raccoon immediately shifted around.

Margaret held her handgun up. The quivering barrel trained on Rigby. He could see how angry she was.

Her finger hovered over the trigger. But there was something holding her back.

Rigby could see the hesitation in her eyes. She wouldn't do it.

He shook his head with pity, and continued to walk off.

Margaret, defeated, collapsed back into a sob.

As he abandoned his former friend in her emotional state, he felt no guilt, nor did he feel any remorse. She was in league with him. How could he not have seen it before. At this point, he didn't care what happened to her.

He muttered, "I'm not sorry."

The Lich was impressed. He didn't have to say anything.

Goodbye blue sky.

Goodbye.