Miles stood dumbfounded on the dying planetoids.  He thought time to a stop state to deal with the unfolding crisis, and Thomas's two parting words slowed into an unrecognizable drawl.

"NonononoNOnono," Miles mumbled to himself, arms gesticulating frantically as he pulled numerous panels out of thin air.  Each displayed eerily silent, empty areas.  An empty black void with more floating panels.  The pocket dimensions belonging to all of Bryce's friends.  The infinity chamber-nothing there but static.  Tied to his life, then?  No, he had to be alive...  Black panels, black panels, over and over...

With a desperate expression, he waved the entire surrounding universe away with a gesture and appeared in a completely black space.  His head darted in all directions, then he waved the blackness away, too.  It was replaced by a wood-paneled room, empty.  He repeated the gesture.  An empty chair.  A bare mahogany desk.  A house full of frozen beings, none of them Bryce.  Back to the spot in front of Thomas.  He put his hands together and then pulled them apart, unfurling an exact duplicate of Glere out of nothingness.  The young god split into two, and one leapt inside.
Empty.  Not even junk.  The entire pocket dimension had been erased.

Miles slumped.  He remained motionless, save his eyes--darting back and forth, lost in his own internal monologue.

A hand on his shoulder snapped him out of it.

He spun in an instant.  "Bry-"

Shock covered Miles's face and he lost his concentration.  Time whirred back into motion with the dying roar of the spacecraft's engines and the final crackle of the firework.

"-done."  Thomas did a double-take at the unrelentingly black, well-dressed being in front of him before promptly being subjected to paralysis and falling over on his face.

"What a mess," said The Director.

"Director!" said Miles.

The Director nodded.  "The Chronicler.  I trust your search was as fruitless as mine?"

"I, uh, I can't, I mean, I don't-"

"Stop," The Director continued.  "Might as well come clean at this point.  I've been watching him through you this whole time.  I know you haven't found him, because I saw your search.  It was a few years of subjective time shorter than mine, but then I trusted that you would know how to find him better, anyway.  If there was one thing he was good at, it was hiding things from me." He paused and looked off into the distance.  "Things like how many things he was good at.  Guess that's a moot point now."

A swirl of blue, a green cape, a tangle of cloth, and a mess of roots had pulled themselves into the scene as he spoke.  The latter held a bottle of champagne aloft.

"So, do we start the party now or later?" Talis asked through a barely-contained smile.

"Just what do you have to do with this?" sneered The Composer.

"And just why would you care?" The Charlatan grinned to The Composer.

Talis popped the cork on the champagne.  "My, ah, late employer at the time was responsible for destroying that round 'Bryce' had cooked up originally.  Or, should I say, he was responsible for telling me to be responsible for it.  Held together by tape and spit, anyway."  He filled a few glasses that weren't in his hand a moment ago. "Things, well, haven't gone well for us since.  I'd name my suspect in The Executive's murder, but..." he nodded blithely to the pile of ashes that was Glere, "Speak not but good of the dead."  He extended a glass to the gathered throng.  "Champagne?"

"W...wait, do you mean uh-" Miles began.  He was cut off by a green cape sweeping between him and Talis.

"Well," said the Charlatan through his grin, taking a glass, "It's what Bryce would have wanted."

The Stranger, quiet thus far, hobbled forward to take a glass, but was cut off by The Composer upending them all in Talis's face.  She advanced on the monocled villain, her eyes narrowed to glowing white slits.  "You," she spat, "are a bootlicking lackey to a master who can't even keep his component molecules intact before a man who was just defeated by his own contestant."  Talis began to back up uneasily, and The Charlatan's grin somehow grew even wider.  "YOU have no battle, we're running it now.  YOU have no master, he's dead."

"Um, [i]presumed[/i] dea-" Talis began.

"YOU," The Composer repeated, "Have about [i]three seconds[/i] to explain to me why you're not worth the effort of scraping your remains off the bottom of my foot, and it took me two to say that."

"Excusemehavetogo,"  Talis blurted, before disappearing.  The Charlatan took a loud sip from his glass of champagne, and The Stranger shuffled awkwardly.

The Director cleared his throat. "So anyway," he began, after a pause that seemed appropriate, "Bookkeeping to deal with.  This battle needs a representative for All-Stars."  He gestured to Miles.  "Naturally, Chronicler, you are the first choice in this situation."

Miles stared blankly back at The Director for a moment.

He glanced down at his feet.

He looked back up.

"Hell no," Miles replied.  "W...With all due respect, I mean."  He nodded, then disappeared.

The Director turned to The Charlatan and Composer.  "Hrm.  Well, as you two have already...shall we say, 'commandeered' another battle, I would say you're out of the running.  I'd throw this one to The Observer like I'd originally planned for Battle Majestic, but..." He turned to The Stranger, who held his swaddled fists up to his chest and began vibrating excitedly, "I'd say we have someone else here who may prove himself capable."

The Stranger hopped about a foot off the ground and made the sort of sound you'd expect a chimpanzee to make when you tickle it. "YES!  Wait, really?  Super really?"

The Director paused a moment.  "You're making me regret my decision already, but yes," he cleared his throat pointedly, "Super really.  I skimmed The Exalted Exchange.  Good stuff there.  Well handled, good round choices, good characters.  Solid all around.  So, do you think you can-"

"YES," The Stranger blurted.  "I mean, I'm sorryforinterrupting, it's just, I will do a good job I swear!  Not as good as you I mean WOW, you're The Director and youstartedallthis and-" he smacked the mass of accessories where his face would be with his gloved hand and continued, "-rambling, yes, I wil absolutely love to!"

The Director, despite not needing to breathe at all, took a long breath.  "As I was saying, do you think you can wrap this one up for-" he gestured to where Thomas had fallen to the ground paralyzed moments ago, "-wait.  Where is our contestant?"