Multi-part story that takes place in the World of Crimson Justice, also known as the Crimson Justice Stories. Written and published on the same day, 10 September, 2025, though parts of the story were already written and planned on 23 August, 2025.

In memory of my dearest best friend in the whole universe. Thank you for making me realise my own kindness, and for showing me the beauty of the world you and I are part of.

Chelsea (2015 – 2023)

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It began as a rather typical day for me, one that consisted of me surveying universes, neutralising hostile forces from beyond, and lending a helping hand to whoever was in need. As I walked through the meadow, I checked my smartphone to see what the current date and time was. Not all universes were necessarily in sync with one another in terms of date and time, which meant there were worlds experiencing the early 21st Century whereas others could be in the middle ages or the distant future. I swiped one of my fingers against the screen while thinking to myself what day it was in my original universe. The screen nigh-instanteously changed the data, showing me a year that was clearly past my world’s expiration date but it was not the year that interested me, but the day and month: 10 September. That date reminded me of someone familiar, someone very near and dear to me. I could visualise it nigh-perfectly: her floppy ears, her eyes droopy and discoloured, a white patch of fur on her chest contrasting her reddish-brown coat, loose skin that bore the marks and signs of age and multiple pregnancies, a rhythmic motion produced by heavy panting, and nails that were a bit too lengthy and curvy—regrettably so. This mental image stirred mixed feelings inside of me, ones characterised by regrets and longing, wishing things could have turned out different—numerous what-ifs that would forever remain in the realm of speculation—accompanied with sensations that made me feel at home, loved, and cherished.

She was also something I had in common with many of my alternates across the endless macrocosm. She was someone we were reminded of whenever we saw a dog passing by, or whenever we looked at a specific series of pictures and photographs. Some of the alternates carried one of said pictures around in memory lockets, which could be in various shapes and styles; and others opted to carry some printed photos around in their pockets, which could also make for useful bookmarks; most of us had the pictures stored in our mobile handheld devices or in physical folders; and some did all of the above. The content of these pictures varied—some depicting a young man, or in the case of alternates of the opposite sex they depicted a young woman, or in the case of more fortunate alternates they depicted a couple or even a whole family, or in plenty of instances depicted other dogs—but they all shared one, universal constant: a reddish brown mastiff, a female Dogue de Bordeaux named Chelsea.

Throughout most realities she was part of, Chelsea was born in the mid 2010s and would live for several years—in some universes her life was tragically cut short either due to accident or disease, and in other universes she would live past the average life expectancy of a French Mastiff, but in most worlds she lived for less than a decade regardless of circumstances, which would not be surprising given a Bordeauxdog’s average life expectancy between 8 and 10 years. In my original world’s case, she died ten days after her 8th birthday. She was the light of my life during a period that felt increasingly turbulent and insecure—when I was still struggling to forge my own path, whether personally or politico-ideologically, only to be severely restricted due to my financial, social, and emotional reliance on others. Despite these limitations, I managed to spend a lot of time with Chelsea, especially in her early years before I decided to live elsewhere. I met her when she was roughly 8 or 10 weeks old, and I acted as her primary caregiver. It was a quite ironic circumstance, I thought to myself. For many years I voiced the desire of wanting a dog, yet I only got to take care of one by the time I had already made peace with the idea that my family would never get a dog. This was something I had in common with many of my alternates as well. Whether our primary caretaker was our mother or father, Chelsea as a puppy was introduced to us by an outsider who was in a relationship with our parent. Some of my alternates experienced a heartbroken scenario in which they could no longer see Chelsea due to their primary parent breaking up with their partner, though ultimately most of them were still able to see Chelsea afterwards due to certain agreements or arrangements they made with their parent’s ex-partner. Fortunately for me, I never had to experience such a scenario though the fear was real. Even before she passed away, I was afraid of losing her, whether as a result of my updated family breaking up, or Chelsea getting potentially stolen by dognappers, or Chelsea suffering from something fatal like getting gastric dilatation volvulus. Me worrying about Chelsea’s well-being never ceased.

But why? Why was I so worried about that dog, I asked myself sometimes. “She’s just a dog!” People, including certain comrades, would tell me. It was difficult to say. Even if I were to say that Chelsea made me feel safe and appreciated, and how I would never be afraid of her saying anything racist or queerphobic, those characteristics could never be exclusively attributed to Chelsea. Under different circumstances, I would have met another dog or a cat or some other animal that could make me feel safe, wanted, and in touch with my own affectionate expressions. But is that not how love works? Love is irreducible to any attempt of rational reasoning. Something always escapes the definition. Something always transcends the boundaries of our own words and conscious thoughts. Towards Chelsea I could only feel a sense of nigh-indescribable gratitude, appreciation for her being present in my life. Even if she slept throughout most of the day only to wake up for food and to give the family and me some hugs and kisses, her presence and actions meant the world to me. Some people would have perhaps described my younger self prior to meeting Chelsea as “attentive”, “sweet”, “kind”, and “gentle”, but it was only after meeting Chelsea and spending time with her that I not only became aware of my own tenderness but that I recognised deep value in it. Even in the current day, as I am facing the horrors of a world countless eons removed from my original reality, I refuse to relinquish the sentimental aspects of my personality. It was a kindness, which I always attributed to her being in my life regardless of whether that was true or not, I insisted on upholding it in order to keep her memory alive. Besides the myriad of photographs featuring her or the numerous journal entries containing mentions of her existence, this was the best way to honour her existence, I thought.

However, Chelsea was not just a thought or a memory from a distant past, she was a potential as well. As long as she was part of the ‘cycle of souls’, subjected to rematerialisations of an indeterminate yet limited amount, I could reunite with her, I reminded myself. Rematerialisation affected animals as well, especially animals that shared an emotional bond with a human in a past life, and still I had yet to sense Chelsea’s presence across the macrocosm despite all these years of hoping, wishing, yearning to see her again. Plenty of my alternates have met their Chelseas rematerialised in this multiverse, so what prevented her from being rematerialised? Granted, while there were means to actively invoke someone else’s rematerialisation, it still did not guarantee success. Interesting, I thought to myself. Even in a world in which the life of a human individual was no longer restricted to that of a single mortal life, the possibilities of life and death were still far from infinite and unlimited. But here was an important question: did I want to see Chelsea again? Was that in her best interests, I wondered. Ever since I rematerialised into this new reality, I have more or less abandoned everything that defined my past, defined me before becoming a full-time Crimson Justice.

Of course, that choice was completely voluntary on my part. As a Crimson Justice, I aspired to become a hero of justice, a symbol of hope, a shield against the nefarious and ethereal forces affecting this world. In a life committed to fighting relentless darkness, seemingly neverending, where would be a time and space for comfort and serenity? In my moments of weakness, I would descend to the Abyss, an ever-expanding and ever-evolving cosmological structure that existed ‘below’ the material world. There I would observe worlds, including universes that no longer exist, and moments of time and space reduced to mere fictions and phantasms divorced from the chain of causality that defines the self-transcending Material—i.e. The future becomes the present, the present becomes the past, and the past ceases to be only to remain as a phantasm that we express deference to on our own terms. At least, that was how other Crimson Justices tried to explain to me the way this reality operated. In the Abyss, I could descend to my original universe, when it still existed, and furthermore to a point in time when Chelsea was still alive. Despite everything about that world having been reduced to that of a mirage, I could sense it was my world, I could sense it was her, and I could sense that the man petting her was a ‘me’ that bore my existence yet did not exist on the same level as I did. This had its consequences, namely that I could not breathe the world’s oxygen or walk on the planet’s surface because these phenomena were just apparitions. I had to use the power of Exceediation to maintain my existence in the Abyss lest I wanted to be pulled back into the Material. Every time, I would try to approach Chelsea, no matter which point of the timeline, and pet her—or hug her, or give her kisses, or tell her how much I love her—only for her and the entire world, nay the entirety of the Abyss, to collapse and disappear only to be nigh-instantaneously recreated by a force beyond myself—the Transcending Void, most likely.

I suppose these little visits to the Abyss show that I am not that different from many of my alternates. Sure, not all of them visited the Abyss to see their versions of Chelsea, but they would either visit the Abyss for other matters or try to achieve all their wants and desires in the Material. Many of my alternates aspired to ‘having it all’, meaning that most of us wanted to play hero while simultaneously fostering a wide and dynamic personal life characterised by maintaining lots of friendships, having long-term relationships, nurturing time-intensive passions, or even raising whole families. In practice, however, our lives were incestuous in more-or-less every sense of the word: if we were not dating our alternates, we would date with someone else within the organisations and groups we would be involved in, and if that did not yield any results many would opt for casual hook-ups or become customers of professional ladies and gentlemen of the night. Same applied for friendships as well. Even if we were to look past our active movements, we would still look for ideological comrades in our potential friends rather than friendships for their own sake. In my previous life, I would have been more conflicted about this especially when interacting with communists in my country could make for a mentally agonising experience, but you know—living in an infinite multiverse helps with avoiding the insufferable ones. And as for keeping and raising pets which, while allowed, could get in the way when it came time to partake in certain missions and duties, especially if these entailed life-or-death situations or being constantly on the move. Would Chelsea be okay getting taken care of by multiple variations of myself? Would she not be confused by it all, I thought to myself. There would also be the option of having a pet tag-along and even use for combat purposes, considering the fact non-human animals could also harness the power of Exceediation especially when they share a strong connection with people. I shook my head as I thought about the negative consequences of such an endeavour. My heart would descend further than the infinite depths of the Abyss if something bad were to happen to Chelsea.

Ultimately, I could not deny this lingering desire to see her again, to hug her again. There were plenty of bordeaux dogs out there, including various alternates of my Chelsea, but I did not want any other Chelsea—I wanted my Chelsea, the Chelsea of my world. I checked my surroundings to see if anyone was in immediate need of help. No. I raised my left arm, imagining it become a blade that could cut through the fabric of reality itself. In one strike, my slashing arm created a man-sized tear in the air in front of me. The tear showcased a forest with a grassy landscape not all too different from my current location, but this new location had one critical and distinctive characteristic: it contained a path leading to a city, one of several headquarters of the League of Crimson Justices (LCJ) that housed many Crimson Justices, many of my alternates included. Hopefully, one of the searchers had already found her by now, I thought to myself. I walked into the gate, entering another world as I left the previous one.

Chelsea, I am not sure when we will see each other again. I am also unsure if this is the best decision, but in my heart of hearts I cannot abandon the hope of seeing you again knowing how this reunion is truly possible. In this brand new world, you and I could go on wonderful adventures, meet marvelous people, and overcome incredible odds. After being separated from you well for over a lifetime, I want to believe in this possibility.

As those thoughts ran across my mind, I took a deep breath and walked towards the city where my comrades are.