You and Scaramouche were always at each other's throats. The rivalry was legendary, spanning years of skirmishes, insults, and bitter enmity. You could never have imagined a world where you weren't enemies, let alone something more.

The sun was setting, casting a blood-red hue over the battlefield as you and Scaramouche clashed yet again. Sparks flew as your weapons collided, each strike fueled by years of hatred.

“You’ll never beat me, Scaramouche!” you shouted, dodging his lightning-fast attacks.

He smirked, his eyes glinting with malice. “We’ll see about that. You’ve always been too weak to stand against me for long.”

You lunged at him, and just as your blades met in a blinding flash, a strange energy enveloped you both. The world around you dissolved into a vortex of light and shadow.

When the light faded, you found yourselves in a serene suburban neighborhood. Confusion washed over you as you looked around. This was definitely not the battlefield.

“What…where are we?” you muttered, lowering your weapon slightly.

Scaramouche looked equally bewildered, his usual arrogance replaced by uncertainty. “I don’t know. This place feels…familiar, but…”

Before either of you could process what was happening, a pair of children came running toward you, laughing and calling out, “Mom! Dad!”

You and Scaramouche exchanged horrified looks. The children, a boy and a girl, tackled you both with hugs, oblivious to the weapons in your hands.

“What’s going on here?” Scaramouche demanded, trying to maintain his composure as the little girl clung to his leg.