Your whole life, you've been trained for one thing, and one thing only... help your Master achieve domination over Paradox Space. And the Master in question, apparently, is the fucking twerp you're stuck with. Presently, he is beating his immortal clown guardian with a crowbar, and you feel like human Super Nanny watching it unfold.

"Uh... I don't mean to be rude, but perhaps we should focus on what's ahead?" You suggest, wringing your hands behind your back so hard you might break a phalanx or two. "What?" Caliborn turns his eyes from the clown wreckage, squinting his eyes at you, with his insufferable screechy voice at maximum potency. "Oh, right. Perhaps you're not totally useless. We should get moving. I have a Universe to wreck havoc in." And with that, he begins marching in a completely random direction, which is somehow the correct one.

Sweet horrorterrors.