Number One
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"Are you a real villain?" asked Robbie.

Sheepishly, one of the clones replied, "Well, technically… no."

"Have you ever caught a good guy, like a real superhero?"

"Nah." Beside him, a different clone shook his head.

Clearly frustrated, Robbie said, "Have you ever tried a disguise?"

"Nah, nah."

"Alright!" Robbie boomed. "I can see that I will have to teach you how to be… villains!"

Before he knew what he was doing, Robbie's lips were wrapped around the thin end of a comically large saxophone. He pushed it away, but the music continued, the solo giving way to a loud and brash orchestral piece in F minor.

He recognized this… searching his memory, he found the episode he was looking for. Robbie's Dream Team, or something. But he hadn't been on this set for years! Lazy Town had wrapped filming for good in 2014, and he'd moved on. So why was he back here?

He glanced to the side, and saw three identical copies of himself playing a variety of instruments, in perfect synchronicity with one another. Evidently this was something they had rehearsed. He tried to get their attention, but their gazes were fixed on a point that seemed to move randomly around the space surrounding them.

As he watched, the three clones dropped their instruments and sprinted towards a warped metal catwalk that moved past several sets of themed clothes encased in glass jars. The music continued, though there was silence as they walked.

With a jolt, Robbie realized what was happening: this was the music video. He was supposed to be singing at this point - he could even remember the words. But why? The last thing he could remember was lying with a mug of tea in a hospital bed, post-chemo, browsing Twitter. Why was he here, and, more to the point, why was he Robbie again?

Of course the Internet had had their thing about his character, and Robbie - no, he chided himself, Stefán - had been more than happy to oblige. How could he complain? His GoFundMe had exploded following that video, and the attention of his fans had reminded him that there was something to fight for, even with his diagnosis.

Suddenly he was outside, concealed behind a tree. Something unnatural was happening here, and he figured he had until the end of the song to work out exactly what. A man in a blue costume ran past, and, after a second's pause, the clones moved out from an opposite tree. Though their actions were rehearsed, their eyes kept darting over to where he stood, telling him that they were at least partially aware of what was going on.

The three clones pulled a ladder out from behind a wall and propped it up against a nearby tree. One of them snatched a net from thin air and climbed it, then waited, motionless. Just as Stefán thought something had gone wrong, he saw a blue blur move past, and the three leapt back into action. The one on the ladder - Bobbie, was it? - swung the net and missed, before falling off the ladder and trapping the other two - Tobbie and Fobbie - between the rungs. Stefán smirked.

Not for the first time, Stefán found himself with no warning transported somewhere new. This time, he was crouched behind a wall, gripping a net in his hands. The three clones were eyeing him eagerly, their anticipation written on their faces.

For the first time since the start of the song, Stefán spoke, cautiously, feeling the words come back into his mind: "Now l-look at this net, that I just found!" As he talked, he felt a warmth flow through his body, and the clones' smiles grew even larger. He thrust the net towards them. "When I say go, be ready to throw!"

He waited for just a second, just long enough to see something move out of the corner of his eye, before screaming, in his best Robbie Rotten voice, "GO!" The blur moved past him unimpeded as the net fell over his shoulders. Grinning, he fought his way out of it, and turned to the clones to say "Throw it at HIM, not ME!" He sighed in mock-disappointment, swiveled on his heel, and muttered "Let's try something else."

He knew what was coming next, and was ready for it, as the banana peels materialized in his hands. "Now watch and learn, here's the deal, he'll slip and slide on this banana peel!" His hands on his hips, he threw back his head and cackled as the three clones simultaneously slipped on the three peels he'd laid out on the ground. "WHAT ARE YOU DOING!"

The clones climbed to their feet, ran behind him, and began attempting to wheel out a ridiculously oversized cannon. Stefán dashed over and helped them maneuver it into position. Once it was in the right place, he picked up a cannonball made of Styrofoam and pushed it down the barrel, before turning the dial on the side. This was the finale, Stefán remembered. He glanced behind the cannon and saw the three clones playing a game of football with Sportacus.

As he blundered towards them, he collided with a pail. He turned around and kicked the bucket away, towards the cannon, where it landed on a lever and pulled it down. The bang startled him, and he jumped into the air, where the cannonball caught him in the chest and threw him backwards.

The music rose to a crescendo as he flew through the air, landing unharmed on a cloth held by various members of the cast. He lay on the sheet, waiting for his moment. And it arrived:

"We are number one! We are number one! We are number one, hey, HEY!"

The Lazy Town sets began to fade away. Out of the shadows came two people, perhaps the best two people he could have seen at this moment: Julianna and Magnús. Stephanie and Sportacus. Unlike the surrounding buildings, these two were in their trademark vibrant shades of pink and blue. He felt a tear come to his eye as he noticed the puppets from the show were congregating around them.

"I…" He cleared his throat and spoke. "I know what this is." He was no longer speaking in his Robbie Rotten voice. This was him.

Sportacus stretched out a hand. "It's time, old friend."

Stefán grasped his hand like a dying man, and the three walked away together into the distance.

Rest in Peace Stefán Karl Stefánsson


He will forever be number one.

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