The Universe's Mixer

Gary trudged through an expanse of the City park covered in snow, a red bundle under his arm. His breath was short and wheezing, as he hadn't stopped moving since he left the Asylum. Now, finally spent, he slumped into a snowbank and did not move for some time.

"Gary..." called a familiar voice, sounding far away.

Confused, Gary struggled to bring up the bundle. He unwrapped the red jacked he'd stolen and revealed the blood-drained visage of his friend, still wearing his cowl and mask.

"Gary..." the voice squalked softly again. The head was no more alive than it had been a moment ago.

"Roy?" Gary wearily asked the head.

"Over here, fatass," the voice beckoned, dreamily.

Looking further ahead, Gary saw the blue, spectral form of his recently dead friend. With sudden energy, he declared, "Holy shit! Roy, you're a Jedi!"

"Gary ... I died a violent death. My spirit can't rest until I've been avenged. You must..."

"Wait, why are you wearing your costume?" inquired Gary, interrupting.

Roy looked at himself curiously at first, then in disbelief. "Aw, what the hell is this?" The colors were indistinct, but he was clearly wearing the uniform of a Monarch Henchman. Roy attempted to grip his clothing, but his hands passed right through his body. "I don't believe this! Don't I get an angel gown, or a ghost sheet or anything?"

"I know, right? It's not like your clothes died," Gary agreed.

"All right, that's it. I'm gonna kick that clown's pasty ass. I am not showing up to the afterlife in this getup." He seemed to have a little trouble making a fist, as his fingers kept passing through his hand. "New plan, Gary: you find me some way to come back to life so I can get my revenge."

"Sweet!" cheered Gary. "Just hold on a little while, okay? I think I gotta collapse from hypothermia for a bit."