Evil Never Sleeps - Chapter 31 - Makuta52 (2024)

Chapter Text

“Are you sure about this?” The skepticism in Kanon’s voice was so palpable, it could have probably been held as a solid object.

“I ain’t sure about anything!” Boomtower guffawed. “But what’s a little shock between teammates, yeah?”

“I am amazed you aren’t just a charred metal husk by now.”

“Been there, done that. A good half dozen times even!”

“Not really a feat to be proud of.”

The Coppelion and the tower warrior were the only two in the training colosseum, the Frontier’s night sky hanging overhead while modern stadium lights illuminated the field and bleachers. No Kuros had been willing to volunteer for this little exercise (who could blame them?), so the duo had done the laborious task of setting up about thirty to forty generic cardboard standups all over, red bullseyes sloppily painted on each.

Boomtower proudly beat his chest with a fist twice over, a ringing gong of a sound reverberating. “I can take it! Just charge yourself up as high as you can go and aim for my center chest! I’m sure to absorb it, just like I did with Gritta’s shadow powers!”

Uncertainty swelled up in the Coppelion. “As much as I can go, huh?” Kanon looked down at her hands, her gloves already taken off and jammed into her jacket pockets. “If you had asked me a month or so ago to hit my limit, I would have gladly taken you up on that offer. Now, though…”

“What? Scared or something?” Boomtower chuckled.

Kanon glowered at him. “No.”

“Then what’s the hold up?”

“The doc said not to force myself. Don’t want to…” She paused, clenched and unclenched a fist, her eyes downcast. “Don’t want to damage the base.”

“Really, THAT’S the concern? FEH!”

Boomtower turned away from Kanon, shifting his whole weight and stared down one of the lights at the far end of the stadium. The air around him began to crackle, his chest cannon filling with red energy. Without warning, he launched the sinister projectile, kicking up dust as the blast careened through the air and collided with the faraway light fixture. It burst into a noisy cavalcade of glass, electricity, and flame, debris showering onto the bleachers with a sonorous, ear-piercing clatter.

“What the hell did you do that for?” Kanon’s shout was mostly ignored, Boomtower’s hearty laughter at his wanton destruction being far louder.

“Scarecrow, Schwarz, and that quack doc may be our superiors, but we’re STILL our own bad guys!” Boomtower insisted, shifting back around. “Power is power! And what I know about this villain alliance junk is that the longer it goes on, the more people are gonna show up. And WE gotta show THEM that WE’RE top dogs around here!”

“I don’t need to go around blowing up things to know how strong I am,” Kanon countered. “Especially in our own home.”

“Hmph. And here I thought you and I were more alike.”

Kanon raised an eyebrow. “Really now.”

Boomtower shook a fist. “Both of us were created as nothing but pawns for a plan we didn’t know the full scope of! Stronger than any of the dumb-dumbs we got stuck with-”

A bolt of white lightning zoomed past Boomtower’s head, just close enough to jolt his circuits a little. Kanon scowled. “Don’t call my sister dumb.”

“Not who I meant! Sheesh!” Boomtower stamped his foot. “Don’t you hate losing? Getting looked down upon? Thinking you’re disposable, able to be swapped out by anyone else at the drop of a hat?”

Kanon shifted at that. That was not what she expected out of the bot. The verbiage wasn’t especially eloquent or flowery, but she understood it all the same. “You’re not… wrong. Just thinking about that goody two-shoes Ibara getting the upper hand against Shion and me grinds my gears.” She didn’t mention that it had been Ibara herself who extended a hand to save the Ozus from the collapsing Iron Spider. One Kanon had refused. “I didn’t think you of all people would care about that kind of stuff.”

“Well sometimes I do, not that anyone ever cares to ask how old Boomtower is feeling.”

“Now who’s the one being touchy?”

Boomtower grumbled something unintelligible before shaking his head. “When that stinkin’ Lord Zedd came back around and faked an alliance with Void Queen, he had this sniveling little scientist make a perfect recreation of me to serve as one of their generals. Called him something hokey, like Boomblaster. Can you believe it? They literally could have brought me back, like they had been doing already, but no! They went and stole MY robotic code and created a fake to serve them! That just burns me up to no end!”

Kanon let out a short sputter, couldn’t hold it, and let out a laugh. “Who would have thought big, bad Boomtower was worried about being benched.”

“I’m NOT worried ‘bout nothing!” Boomtower insisted, stomping a foot for emphasis. “I’m just taking precautions and making sure our oh-so smart and scary leaders don’t mess up and make the same mistake my other bozo bosses did!”

“I think you’re getting steamed up over nothing.” Kanon folded her arms. “We don’t have to prove ourselves to anyone here.”

“Even if that were the case, which it ISN’T, I still WANT that power up.”

“Yeah, yeah, I hear ya, I hear ya…”

Kanon tucked a hand underneath her chin, cast a thoughtful look away from the pleading, increasingly grumpy Boomtower. Doubt was written all over her face – Sever’s admonishments and Shion’s worry still weighed heavily on her mind. And deep down, she knew not to overexert herself. Not until Sever found enough information about the Ozu’s biological makeup to help keep their unknown lifespan from being cut short.

…however long THAT was taking. He was too busy with everything else. Looking at Pandora’s Box, helping Adiane with her new mech, getting sidetracked by Chris. Besides, hadn’t SHE been the one that started up the Fabrication Machine? The thing that was a key instrument to the Federation’s whole stinkin’ plan? Without her, how much longer would they have waited to find something to house the stupid souls? She didn’t remember hearing a “thank you” from anyone back then, either…

“You know what. I’ve made up my mind,” said Kanon confidently. “Let’s do this.”

Boomtower guffawed with glee. “ALRIGHT! That’s what I’m TALKING about, sparkplug!”

The hulking brute stomped a few paces back and held his hand aloft. In a flash, his sizable claymore materialized into his hand, which he then stabbed into the dusty sand flooring. “So what I’M thinking-”

“Woah, you are? Very impressive. Proud of you!” Shion snickered.

“HA. HA. I’m THINKING that you shoot electricity into my chest, I let it collect there for a second, then my sword acts as a lightning rod and sends a shockwave to wherever I point!”

“Sounds like you’re just shooting a regular blast with extra steps.” Kanon shrugged. “You’re the one getting zapped, though, so I guess you call the shots.”

“You’re darn right!” Whether Boomtower was downplaying the risks of this experiment or was genuinely ignorant of the repercussions was anyone’s best guess. Either way, he spread his arms to either side of him. “NOW LIGHT ME UP!”

Kanon took one more look at her hand, studying the creases in her palm. A flash of Shion’s worried face appeared there.

“You can tell me anything, sis.”

“You can still talk to me about stuff.”

“Any time, sis! I got your back!”

Kanon couldn’t help but smile a little. She didn’t deserve a stupid, caring sister like Shion. Not after everything she pulled back in Tokyo. Not when it had been her plan to destroy everything, fully intending to go down with the ship. Shion had obediently gone along with her, the idiot. Stupid. Moron.

No. Kanon was the idiot this day.

“It’ll be okay…” Her whisper did nothing to reassure herself, but she mumbled it anyway.

The Coppelion’s hair rose up on their ends, small jolts sparking from her fingertips that soon became long arcing strands around her body. Kanon shined bright, brighter than any of the stadium lights above her. Stray bolts licked at the air, some close enough to strike at the nearest light fixtures, completely overloading and shorting out their power. That was all normal.

What wasn’t normal was the way her was body shaking. Not in anticipation. More like she was about to spasm out of control or shut down. She gritted her teeth, steeled herself. No. She was stronger than this. She could handle this. She had to.

An absolutely gleaming charge of lightning had built up in her right hand when Boomtower called over, his shout just barely louder than the intense static ringing in her ears. “Alright, sparkplug! Hit me with your best-”

He never finished as Kanon let out a raging cry before launching the condensed, thunderous blast at the tower robot. Through all the intense light, the Coppelion had actually managed to compact the shot into a smaller, if barely manageable, burst, just like Boomtower had wanted. It was fast, faster than any projectile the bot could have produced, and hit its target in the dead center of his chest.

An overwhelming surge of energy coursed through Boomtower, blue bands of energy rippling around his body. The power from the Nephrite Orb Void Knight had ordered him and Mucus to steal way long ago had NOTHING on whatever this was. A lesser creation wouldn’t have been able to contain this amount of power. Boomtower was, of course, no such thing.

“WOAH! Hey now! This is some serious STUFF! HA HA!” Boomtower guffawed loudly. “I could get addicted if I’m not careful!”

He snatched up his claymore, overclocking his circuits to funnel all of the borrowed electricity from his torso into his arm, and then into his blade. It instantly took on a fearsome glow.

“Let’s see what a mega charged Boomtower can do with this kind of power!” he bellowed before flinging the sword outwards. It slammed into the ground, the impact sending exactly what the bot had wanted: a rumbling shockwave that fanned out around the arena. It struck each and every one of the training dummies, their cardboard frames instantly blasted into smithereens.

Boomtower couldn’t hold in his laughter. “Oh, yeah! Who’s the best? I’M THE BEST! HA! Wait until Mucus and Slyther get a look at the new and improved, super powered Boomy! Better yet, wait until those RANGERS do! You better look out, Pine Ridge, ‘cuz with Boomy and Sparkplug on the loose, your final days are numbered!” He shifted around to face the Coppelion. “Ain’t that right, Kan-”

He had never froze up before. Not once, not ever. Not at Void Knight, or at Ooze, definitely not at the Rangers. He didn’t think it was in his programming.

But there was Boomtower, a proverbial robotic deer in the headlights at the sight of Kanon as she lay face down in the sand. The girl was completely out cold. Not even the faintest zap of light around her. A splatter of blood stained the ground just before her, and more was dripping from her mouth.

That was the story that Boomtower had told the others in the laboratory, save for anything that came from Kanon’s own thoughts.

An overwhelming and tense blanket of dread laid heavy as the older Ozu was placed in intensive care. The small, short breaths of air that fogged up the non-rebreather mask affixed to her face wasn’t as promising a sign as Sever would have liked, but it WAS confirmation that she was still alive. Minami had been quickly found, instantly on the pulse despite the lack of proper medical equipment present. A heart rate monitor and IV drip were fashioned out of necromech parts and hooked up to Kanon. It would have to do for now.

It wasn’t long before the lone remaining founder in the castle was alerted to what had occurred, Suigintou with Kurumi in tow entering the lab to add to an already sizable audience watching over Kanon’s medical emergency.

Aside from Sever and Minami, who were busy attending to Kanon, Chris, who had been roused from her nap to the urgent news, sat with Shion, hand-in-clammy-hand, as Shrike stood to the younger Ozu’s side. Shion had exploded when Boomtower entered the lab with her limp sister, a horrified, tearful mess of panic and fury. She surely would have pounded the bot into infinitesimal pieces hadn’t Shrike and Zeltrax been there to restrain her, their combined power just barely enough to hold the Coppelion back. Chris had been the one to calm her down, able to pry Shion away from the unconscious Kanon to allow the ones with medical knowledge to treat her, but again, just barely.

Boomtower had slouched onto the opposite wall from Shion, head down in an uncharacteristic moment of solemn quiet. In addition to Zeltrax and Adiane who had already been in the lab, the likes of Gritta, Schwarz, Zurgane, and Octoroo had gathered as the news spread throughout the castle.

Suigintou scanned the room, gaze falling on the pallid, faintly breathing Kanon. She had barely known the two superpowered siblings, the most interaction with them was at breakfast earlier that day, and even then it had only been the younger. She and Kurumi weren’t privy to Boomtower’s early anecdote, so her question, however unsympathetic, came out regardless. “What happened?”

“Ask the big… stupid blue robot…” Shion’s voice was a hushed rasp, her legs pulled up to cover her face.

“Hey now, don’t say that,” said Chris gently. “He… didn’t mean to. I’m sure of it.”

Boomtower didn’t say a word, barely shifted in his spot.

“WHAT. HAPPENED?” Suigintou repeated, louder this time.

Sever interjected here, coming up to his platform with Minami at his heels. “Kanon overexerted herself during a training session with Boomtower in the coliseum. I know not the duration or full extent of the usage, even from Boomtower’s account. But…” His voice dipped, grew low. “She is very unwell.”

“I can see that.”

“Her body composition isn’t one-for-one like a normal human,” Minami added, flipping through a clipboard of mad scribbles. “The Coppelion were heavily experimented upon, their DNA stretched and reformatted and combined with other species, not to mention pumped with all manner of-”

She flinched when Chris sent over an incensed side eye, something she rarely ever did. It prompted the mad nurse to gulp, change up her wording mid-sentence. “Um. It’s difficult to get a read on what’s wrong with her. Is what I’m trying to say.”

Suigintou spun to face Boomtower, eyes narrowing. “And you? Anything to say on the matter?”

Boomtower slowly looked up. His voice came out groggy and low. “I didn’t… I didn’t think that’d happen to her… she said she could… I thought she said… I didn’t think-”

“Yeah, I bet you DIDN’T!” Shion cried out of nowhere, her free hand clawing into the laboratory wall behind her, wrenching the metal as if it were mere paper. “You were only ever thinking about yourself! Trying to make yourself stronger! Like you ever c-cared about big s-sis and… and-!”

She buried her face in her arms and knees. She didn’t want to talk anymore.

Boomtower made no rebuttal.

“Poor girl,” Gritta whispered, her arm interlocked through Schwarz’s. “Is there anything that can be done?”

“You two ARE scientific prodigies, aren’t you?” Zurgane questioned Sever and Minami, folding his arms. “Well… fix her! Or something!”

“I was a coroner! Mostly!” Minami threw up her hands. “I CAN treat people, and I’m not totally unfamiliar with nonhuman biology… but that was because of my little stint with the Twenty Faces and at the cafe. I wouldn’t trust me with a scalpel, especially with anyone inhuman! No offense to anyone in the room.”

“We’ll keep that in mind, ooh aah,” Octoroo grumbled.

“As I’ve stated once before, robotics and cybernetics are my field of expertise. My skill in medical knowledge has improved some, and I have treated the sisters before, but I wouldn’t call myself a specialist in nursing sciences.” A stinging memory of the past jolted through. His family’s souls spiriting away out of his grasp. His ultimate failure to protect what was more precious to him.

He wouldn’t let it happen again.

“I will do what I can,” he affirmed.

“The girl in white, Alice, she is a healer, isn’t she?” Kurumi asked. “Can’t she do anything to allay Kanon’s condition?”

Zurgane shifted awkwardly. “She is… indisposed, at the moment.”

“Isn’t this an emergency?”

“IN. DIS. POSED. THAT’S. FINAL.”

If everyone’s attention wasn’t solely focused on Kanon’s predicament, they might have noticed the dent in one of Zurgane’s shoulder pauldrons.

“She wouldn’t be of much help,” Chris said sadly, shaking her head. “Her magic artes ARE suitable for healing. It’d soothe Kanon’s pain, but it won’t cure her of…” She trailed off, unable to finish. She couldn’t bear to, not when she was still holding Shion’s hand.

“Then it would seem we are in need of a specialist,” pondered Schwarz. “A scientist or doctor that understands biology at an extraordinary or enhanced level.”

“Why, that can’t be hard at all, ooh ahh!” Octoroo chimed it, waddling about. “The multiverse is so vast, and we have Sever’s probes scouring every cranny and nook… Surely we would be able to find one such expert that would be up to the task of stabilizing our friend, off the book!”

“You did it again, you blabbering squid,” Zurgane snarled. “Annoying.”

Octoroo co*cked his head to the side. “Did what?”

“And even if they aren’t feeling up to the task.” Adiane pounded a fist into an open hand, a wicked smile painting her face. “We can be persuasive.”

“Time is of the essence. Let me begin a search…” Sever approached his station, instantly running through the database of cataloged worlds already collected by his network of surveillance drones. Despite such rudimentary knowledge when he had first worked experimented with Pandora’s Box and its transdimensional capabilities, they had already scouted hundreds of worlds and recorded their findings. So much potential, so many possibilities. There HAD to be something, someONE, out there that can be the ticket to saving Kanon’s life. And, by proxy, Shion’s.

World upon world flashed by in the holographic display, barely giving the others a chance to observe them. Not that they’d be able to tell if they held the solution to their ally and friend’s ailment from a glance. Kurumi flicked a concerned look towards Suigintou, noting a cold passivity in the Rozen Maiden. Colder than how she normally was.

“You are… awfully calm, considering the circ*mstances,” said Kurumi, hushed.

“Am I?” Suigintou was less quiet. “Is that so out of the ordinary?”

“I know I said to leave certain decisions to the others, but now would be a time where some leadership could be what the others need.”

Zeltrax didn’t need his keen warrior senses to make out what was being spoken out – Suigintou wasn’t doing much to quiet her voice anyhow.

“Such apathy can begin to spread doubt on a group’s opinion about their ruling authority,” Zeltrax pointed out, voice laden with suspicion.

Kurumi frowned. “I can’t say I disagree, but eavesdropping is rude.”

“Talking with other pretty girls right in front of me?” Adiane shoved Zeltrax playfully. “How cold.” Her sole eye fixed onto Suigintou and Kurumi, sly and judgmental. “DOES our humble leader have anything she’d like to say in regard to this situation, I wonder? Words of wisdom or guidance, perhaps?”

Suigintou soon found herself with many stares drawn to her. “It would appear my standing as a leader is being put to the test. Fine. You won’t like what I have to say, but I will speak my mind,” she huffed. “It sounds to me that Kanon was cautioned beforehand not to overuse her powers. This is the consequence of not heeding those warnings.”

Shion flinched but remained silent. It was noticeable enough for Shrike, who growled wordlessly. Chris was also quick to pipe up, “Hey! That’s unfair!”

“Yeah, what are we supposed to do?” Minami added in, fuming. “Just sit around with our thumbs up our asses?”

“Mysterio and Kneesocks came for you in your time of need,” Kurumi reminded the Rozen Maiden.

“I never-” Suigintou stopped short. It would have been so easy to write them off as unwanted during her time in New Meridian, injecting themselves into her own personal mission… but then she’d be lying to herself. She also knew she wouldn’t have gotten very far back then, had it only been herself and Kurumi. “This is different.”

“I don’t believe it is.”

“And don’t even think about saying it has something to do with spreading the Federation’s forces too thin,” Adiane added. “Not only do we have the remaining Shadow Line nobles-” Gritta and Schwarz waved at this. “-we also have our two absentee proxies. I assumed that was their whole role in being recruited.”

“Well… it’s also because I like them and they’re our friends,” Chris mumbled. “But go off, I guess…”

“Tch.” Suigintou’s eye twitched. Scarecrow and Takano made this look so easy.

There was a faint hissing deep within her. It made her skin crawl as it morphed into a low cackle. The Skull Heart panged annoyingly, like an itch impossible to scratch. “You’re their leader, aren’t you? They should listen to whatever orders you give them. But look at the way they argue back. Perhaps they need a forceful nudge to be reminded who’s in charge.”

“Shut up. No one’s talking to you.”

“You are.”

“I said shut up.”

“Suigintou?” Kurumi placed a consoling hand on the Rozen Maiden’s back. She found it to be concerningly hot, the soft warmness that was their connection as medium and maiden feeling distant.

“It’s unfair, isn’t it? Always unfair,” the Skull Heart mocked, adopting a false tone of consolation, of pity. “You suffered, the electric girl suffered. But look at them all. Appearing out of the woodwork to help a friend in her time of need. Where were they when YOU needed them?”

“You don’t-!”

“And now they question your authority? When you helped make them who they are? Isn’t that just-”

“I SAID SHUT UP!”

Her shriek was accompanied by her jet-black wings exploding outward, easily startling the others. As if they weren’t already considerably bothered by her apathy towards Kanon’s dire situation and self-contained mutters. Their gazes all fell on her of varying degrees of emotion: fear, concern, irritation.

She didn’t take it too well. “What are you all looking at?” Suigintou spat. “Don’t look at me like I’m some pitiable disgrace!”

“Suigintou, no one said that,” Kurumi, looking the most concerned of all, told her.

“You’re the one suddenly going off into crazy town.” Minami did little loops with her fingers around her head.

Octoroo waddled forward, one hand spread out towards the others. “Now, now, everyone, settle down, oowaah. I’ve seen this before. The burden of leadership is heavy upon the shoulders of those who carry it. Why, it wasn’t too long ago where I saw this same stressful affliction take hold of Master Xandred while I was but a soldier.” He shook his head, facial tentacles waving with the motion. “My, where does the time go? I truly do feel so much older!”

“You totally FORCED that one! I’m going to wring your little squid neck, you annoying babbling wizard!” Zurgane snarled.

“I do believe we also came to the conclusion that your former master was a monstrous, uncaring tyrant who felt nothing for his subordinates at any point during his rule,” Schwarz reminded the Nighlok. “Not exactly someone to aspire or look up to.”

“Also an unwavering alcoholic, if I recall that bottle that was on his ship correctly…” Gritta tacked on quietly.

“O-Ooh ahh! Such slander… still, I do know some special remedies that can… cure… um…” When Octoroo turned back around, he could practically see the burning hatred manifesting in Suigintou’s skull irised, pink-hued eyes, boring into his squat little form. “O-Or perhaps I may have spoken o-out of turn. I-I’ll just, um, get back in line, then…”

He went to shuffle away, but found his path blocked - someone else had stepped up to confront Suigintou.

The Skullgirl glowered at the new contender: Shion, red-eyed, top lip biting down over her bottom, hands balled so tightly into fists they were beginning to turn purple.

“What. NOW you’ve got something to say?” Suigintou rasped. “Here to defend your sibling’s foolish actions?”

Shion sniffed twice. Stiffened. Then…

“J-Just because you hate your sisters so much doesn’t mean you can insult other p-people’s families!” the Coppelion shouted, voice echoing around and out the laboratory. “Not everyone is as h-hateful and spiteful as you! Some of us LOVE our sisters, care about OUR families, and wouldn’t know what to do without them! N-Not that YOU would know ANYTHING. ABOUT. THAT!”

A stunned silence fell over the workshop. No one dared make a sound, utter a word. Just stare in awe at Shion. Or gape in fear at Suigintou, whose body became awash with azure flames. Stray flicks from her blaze threatened not just the machinery, but all those present, with Octoroo, Minami, and Gritta backing away with simultaneous yelps.

“Suigintou, please! Calm-!” Kurumi attempted to take hold of her partner, only to back away. The blue fire was hot, hotter than it had ever been in New Meridian. Back then, it was not but a cool wisp on her skin - now it threatened to boil the spirit whole. “What…?”

“Stop this!” Sever shouted, once again surprising the others with a quickness they would not have expected from the cyborg. He flung his arms out, shielding his patient behind him. “You’ll harm Kanon!”

Similarly, Shrike and Schwarz went into defensive action, taking positions to either side of Shion. The Stalker’s eyes shined a vibrant, angry emerald, while the general’s hand rested upon the pommel of his blade.

It was the latter’s stance that bothered Suigintou most. “Even you, general?”

“I am loyal to the Federation, but I cannot condone an outburst that would do harm to our own friends and allies,” Schwarz answered. “Even if it’s from one of my leaders.”

That just made Suigintou angrier, burn hotter.

“How cold of them. They’d be nothing without you, and yet after everything, they turn on you, just like that.” From within her, the Skull Heart tittered mockingly. “Some allies. Some team.”

“STOP. TALKING!”

“Pitiful Suigintou. Poor little Suigintou. Betrayed by her first family, untrusted by her second. What an unfortunate state of affairs.”

“I SAID-”

“Suigintou, please! Who ARE you talking to?”

The Skullgirl blinked rapidly. Her head was starting to spin, pain blossoming behind her left eye. She palmed it, the horde of confused and irate faces bearing down on her. Through the haze, only one truly seemed worried, her hand reaching out but unable to take hold of Suigintou.

Her fire dimmed, the flames evaporating in an instant. Not because she wasn’t still outraged, but because it felt like all her energy had finally been spent BEING angry. “Fine. Do whatever you want,” were the final words she spat out before she flew out of the laboratory.

“Suigintou, wait!” Kurumi called out for her, taking a step forward. By then, however, the Rozen Maiden was gone.

“What’s her problem?” Minami sneered. “She always like that?”

“From what I’ve observed, yes,” Zeltrax answered.

It was Gritta’s interjection next that stopped Kurumi from starting a fight with the warrior. “S-She’s prickly, but this is something different. T-There’s that… thing inside her now, right? The Skull Heart?”

“Yes… I know it isn’t exactly subservient to her, but I figured it would at least follow her will to some degree…” said Kurumi, now more worried than she already was.

“You can’t trust ancient magics like that. Like. At ALL,” warned Chris. “If it’s got a voice and, worse yet, an attitude, you can’t let your guard down for a second. It’ll use whatever dirty trick in the book to turn you into something you're not. Flip your whole personality from the inside out!”

“Don’t I know the feeling…” Gritta grumbled, the memory of her most monstrous moments after consuming the emperor of the Shadow Line rearing its ugly face.

“I dunno, sometimes it’s simpler than that. It’s called bipolarism,” Minami stated astutely, wagging a finger.

“Minami, you’re my friend and I care about you, but please stop talking for a few minutes,” Chris sighed.

Kurumi considered the others’ words. Her eyes fell over Shion, Shrike, and Schwarz all in a row. The Coppelion looked like she was holding strong, but the spirit could see she was shaking. She couldn’t parse if it was from residual worry for her sister’s condition or the adrenaline from standing up to Suigintou. Probably a little of both. On a normal day, an attack on her girlfriend’s character would be cause for the spirit to lash out, especially considering what she knew about the Rozen Maiden against what the others did. However…

She nodded at them. “I’ll handle her. You all worry about Kanon.”

Schwarz nodded back. “Go. Be with her.”

The spirit lingered just a moment longer, gaze drifting to Shion. Even with her emotional shivers, she never once took her eyes off of Suigintou, Kurumi had noticed. “Your sister is lucky to have you.”

She clearly wasn’t expecting that comment, given her stern expression melting into something softer. “It’s… the other way around, really.”

Kurumi gave a small hum of affirmation before departing.

Once the spirit was well out of earshot, Shion deflated, running both her hands through her hair and shaking her head. “Aaaaaaah… I was just trying to sound cool, b-but that was actually really scarrrrryyyy!”

“You were very brave against the raven girl,” Shrike complimented, a small ghost of a grin on his rotting teeth.

Now THAT was a compliment that got Shion to shine. “You really think so?”

“Short though she may be in stature and temper, Suigintou is still our leader and a force all on her own,” Schwarz stated. “It took real strength to stand up to her in such a fashion.”

“Even if… maybe your comment was a little… much…” Chris mumbled quietly to herself.

“Not bad, kid,” Adiane said with a smirk.

“Yes, fantastic, she won a verbal spar,” Zurgane spat. “Can we forestall the rest of this melodrama and focus on the task at hand?”

“I’m surprised YOU are gung-ho about this. Is the mighty Zurgane losing his edge?” Octoroo chortled. “You do seem to spend a good deal of time with that Alice girl.”

“S-Shut your mouth!” Zurgane sword, shaking a fist. “A new mission promises new challenges, new opponents to face and defeat, proving our warrior prowess. Nothing more!”

“Ooah, is that so?”

“As it so happens, in the midst of all… that, I was able to pull up a few suitable locations of interest from the catalog of worlds the drones have visited,” Sever stated. A few more taps on his control panel, and three images of select locations shimmered into view along the holographic display. From left to right: an aerial shot of a sprawling academy with a large tower in the very center, a sizable, staunchly rectangular hospital, and unassuming hole in the wall, stuck in a futuristic downtown area and drenched in a never-ending downpour.

“One is LITERALLY a hospital, though,” Adiane sighed.

“This organization of ours must have the most specific and strangest track records,” Schwarz mused to himself. “What with the attacks on educational buildings and castle deconstructions.”

“Please let’s not tell Kneesocks about this one,” Gritta urged. “She might pull all her blue hair out if she has to keep making tallies for either.”

Sever ran through the holographic files the drone had recorded and stored in the collective memory banks. “As ludicrous as it sounds, this site does seem to be rather promising. Hakoniwa Academy, otherwise known as the Sandbox Academy, is quite a revered and well-respected institution. A healthy student body, many diverse clubs, more than exceptional funding.” Sever paused, optics rotating. “The drone reported that there was constant construction redone, reports of peculiar situations and events occurring on the campus. Some geological scans say there are-”

“Okay, okay, doc, we get it! They’re rich and we should shake ‘em down for pocket change some time!” Shion leapt up onto the platform beside the necromech scientist. “But can they SAVE big sis?”

“I was just getting to that,” Sever assured her. “Of course there’s a nurse’s office on campus, but the scans of the academy reveal multiple laboratories and medical bays hidden either deep underground or sequestered away from prying eyes.”

“Sea… quest… errr…”

“Hidden,” explained Minami. “It means hidden.”

“OH!” Shion dropped a fist into an open palm. “I knew that.”

“No. No, you didn’t.”

“Bah! The only school I’d want to tear down is the Wind Ranger Academy!” Zurgane sneered. “There’s no challenge in facing preschoolers.”

“I wouldn’t be so hasty to dismiss that.” Adiane jabbed a thumb over her shoulder, towards the reactor that held the Sorcerer's Stone. “Noir told me that the fight with the witch students to get that thing was no easy task.”

“The fight with those so-called meisters was also a challenge, from what we were told,” Schwarz added.

“Scanty was very… expressive in her recounting of the mission,” said Gritta.

“I do not know all of the details, but from what the probe projected back to us, it seems that many members of the student body are especially gifted,” Sever recounted. “A variable collection of skilled youngsters that are sought after and brought together by the academy as qualified leaders of tomorrow. One school newspaper the drone found used the word “superhuman” in some instances. It may very well be battles between them that have rendered the school grounds in constant need of refurbishment.”

“You should have led with that,” Zurgane huffed.

“Furthermore, that same newspaper that had been scanned stated something along the lines of a “Flask Plan,” that had recently been overturned by the school’s reigning student council,” Sever continued. “Some sort of scheme in enhancing and creating more superhuman students and unlocking the fullest potential of their talents.”

“Well. That doesn’t sound super suspicious at all,” Chris deadpanned.

“YES! It’s perfect, just like something out of a battle manga!” Shion’s eyes gleamed. “There’s ALWAYS got to be a doctor or something at a school like that to heal all the students’ injuries! There’s just GOTTA be!”

Sever’s optics rotated. “That’s certainly a possibility…”

“There’s no time to debate this! It’s all or nothing! Kanon… Big sis’s life is at stake here! I…”

She balled up her hands into fists again. “I can’t… lose her.”

If the cyborg still had an organic heart, it would have paused for just a moment, seeing the Coppelion in such a state. The pain was not the same, but the feelings were all too similar to Sever for him not to understand.

He placed a hand upon Shion’s shoulder. “You won’t. I promise you. We WILL save Kanon.”

Shion fought back tears and nodded. “R-Right!”

“Not to interrupt such a touching moment, but we’d better get moving if we want to see that promise fulfilled,” Adiane cut in.

“What’s the plan, then?” Zeltrax asked.

“We storm the school, find a doctor, fight anyone who gets in our way, take the doctor back with us, and save Kanon,” Shion said confidently.

“That’s not really much of a plan.”

“Well, we’ll improvise!”

“Maybe we shouldn’t let the human sledgehammer lead the charge,” Zurgane grumbled.

“NOT human!” Shion exclaimed.

“This IS a school, isn’t it? Schools have clubs,” Chris pointed out. “Maybe you could fake being in some cosplay club. Say you’re all getting ready for a tokusatsu convention.”

“Toku what now?” Zurgane, Zeltrax, Octoroo, Schwarz, and Gritta all looked at her in befuddlement.

“It’s… uh.” Chris stopped short. “You know what, never mind. It’d take too long to explain.”

“In any case!” Octoroo waddled forward, staff in hand. “With my new expertise in world hopping magic, arriving there will be a cinch!” He turned to Shion. “Since this is a matter most personal to Shion, perhaps she should choose who will accompany her.”

“Me?” Shion pointed at herself. “Lead a team? O-Oh, um… I’m not really sure about that. Big sis was always better at leading and… stuff.”

“Must I reiterate the human sledgehammer comment?” Zurgane rasped.

Shrike’s eyes shined emerald again. “Insult her again, and I’ll rip that armor of yours apart!”

“Is that a CHALLENGE?”

“Hold your horses, big boys. Tear each other’s gears and wires out AFTER the mission is over.” Adiane glided across the lab and up the platform to join Shion and Sever. The older woman sized up Shion again. “I’m best in a Gunman, but I’m no slouch in hand-to-hand combat either. We can call the shots together, lead these bozos in the right direction.”

Shion liked the sound of that. Less complicated to her. “Okay!”

Adiane smirked. She always appreciated quick obedience. “Alright then. We’ll go with as small a crew as possible. It’ll be difficult not to make a scene, but we’ll do what we can up until that point.” She raised her tail, stinger jabbing at the air as she rambled off names. “Zeltrax, Shrike, Zurgane, Octoroo. Plus us two. That’s sufficient, I think.”

“Not myself?” Schwarz asked. His stoic tone wasn’t much different from how he normally was, but there was just the faintest bit of a wobble that Gritta noticed. Disappointment, if however slight, at not being chosen. She felt a little bad thinking how cute it was.

“I meant no offense, general. Just wanting to keep the team compact. Also to appease the boys and their combat addiction without making it into an larger and distracting contest.”

“That actually makes some sense,” Zeltrax agreed.

“I’m still taking offense to it,” Zurgane hissed.

“It’ll also be a real test of all of our skills. The first mission as Federation members for the lot of us, I’d wager,” Adiane added. “Give the big wigs something to chew on about our usefulness when we come back victorious.”

“I’d hardly say this is the time to be showing off.” Sever shook his head. “But whatever suits you while managing to succeed in your mission… but you MUST make haste. Now.”

Shion smiled then, the first genuine one since this situation began. “Don’t worry. We got this, doc!”

A creaking of heavy metal came from a silent corner of the lab. Boomtower rose from his spot, trudging towards the center of the lab. “I’m coming too.”

Shion scowled. “Nuh-uh. Not allowed. Banned.”

“Indeed, the biggest and loudest of all of us here after Zurgane?” said Octoroo. “We’d lose whatever semblance of stealth we had, low enough as it was to begin with.”

“Well, because you said THAT, now I vouch for him to join,” Zurgane snarled. “We can always use extra firepower. Especially if these superhuman kids end up being as challenging as you all claim school students tend to be.”

“Kehehe… cheating on his bromance with the other guy, how juicy!” Minami giggled.

“Shouldn’t you be attending to the patient or something?”

Minami’s response was to stick out her tongue and make a most unflattering sound.

“If Shion says no, then that means no,” Shrike snarled at Boomtower. “You have already caused enough problems this day.”

Boomtower glowered at the Stalker. Kept silent for a few beats, then spoke in a volume most distressing. Not because it was too loud, but the exact opposite: it was bizarrely quiet for him: “I was created without a shred of remorse in my circuits. Void Knight made me a war machine, through and through. I don’t feel anything like pity or sadness or any of that junk. That’s organic weakness. I’m not SUPPOSED to feel bad for causing pain to others.”

He paused for a second. Head tilting towards where the weak Kanon lay, barely alive. “But I do. Just this once. And despite everything my programming is telling me, I wanna save this ONE person who gave some actual kind of attention to me. Me, some… loudmouthed idiot who only knows how to destroy. Then I’ll go back to selfish, boom-blasting ways. But for now…”

The bot looked to Shion. “I’m beggin’ ya here. Let me come. For your sis. For my fr… for Kanon.”

Shion glared at him, eyes having only just finally stopped being so red after everyone else’s support. She definitely was still mad at him. The small nagging part of her brain that knew that Kanon probably DID go too far with own powers was drowned out in flinging all the blame upon Boomtower.

Her sister was everything to her. How could a big bucket of bolts who only cared about being strong and hurting others possibly understand? No way he was being THAT honest with her right now.

But… Kanon did seem to enjoy his company. And Shion knew her sister hadn’t enjoyed anything in… in a really long time.

Shion leapt over the platform railing to stand before Boomtower. He easily dwarfed her, but with her strength, and at this range, she could easily punch him through at least four or five levels of the castle. Give or take. The desire in her for that kind of cathartic retribution was strong.

She reeled back a fist… only to extend a finger to point right up to Boomtower’s face.

“Okay. You can come. But you behave. Okay?”

That surprised everyone. Boomtower most of all. “Wait, really?”

“Yeah. Can’t make up for being a butthead by just sitting around here doing nothing, right?”

Boomtower nodded slowly. “Guess makes sense.”

“Even though she already said no…” Zeltrax muttered.

“Then it’s settled,” Sever announced, something resembling a commanding tone seeping into his voice to address everyone. “Shion and Adiane will lead a team consisting of Zurgane, Zeltrax, Octoroo, Boomtower, and Shrike to Hakoniwa Academy. The mission is to locate someone who may know something about this Flask Plan or a doctor of substantial merit and bring them back here to heal Kanon. Chris, Minami, and myself will watch over her in the meantime.”

“Perhaps Schwarz and I will try to see if Alice is available,” Gritta added. “Perhaps even ask mother if there would be any shadow creatures she could develop to help sustain Kanon’s health.”

“Again, I wouldn’t bet on Alice’s assistance for the time being…” Zurgane grumbled.

“What the heck was she doing?” Chris held up her hands. “Making out with Ruler?”

Zurgane went rigid.

Chris’s eyes went wide. “Wait, hold on-”

“Can we just get a move on, already? We’re wasting time here!” the warrior sputtered, dodging the question.

“Aighty oh! One portal, coming right up!” Octoroo hopped to it, wielding his staff aloft. Dark magics circled around the looped finial at the tip, shadowy mist that floated ominously in the air before phasing through the projection of the school grounds still on display. It pulsed a few times before separating itself, forming into a spinning vortex in the center of the lab.

“And there you have it!” The Nighlok declared proudly.

“I am… not sure I want to contemplate how the merging of science and magic worked there just now.” Sever placed a hand over his masked face, as if a headache were coming on.

“It was simple, really! All it took was applying an information leeching addendum to a transportation spell to steal the universal coordinates of the holographic image you provided and let the dark, unexplainable sorceries of millennia old Nighlok magic do its thing and create a stable spacial bridge between here and there!”

The room went awkwardly quiet. No one really had the know-how to dispute whatever mystical babble just came from him.

“I’m… I’m gonna go get some drinks,” said Chris, surprisingly exasperated.

“Ooh! Bring me something too!” Minami chirped.

“You’re one of the doctors on duty!” Zeltrax reminded her.

“And aren’t you a little young to be drinking?” Adiane added.

“No way, I’m twenty-five!” Minami replied.

“Like hell you are!”

“Enough!” Sever cried, a gangly finger extended toward Octoroo’s portal. “All of you, go now! Scour every inch of that school and find someone, quickly! Kanon’s life depends on your success.”

“You heard the man!” Adiane spun a finger in the air. “Let’s roll, boys.”

The beastwoman led the charge, followed closely behind by Zurgane, Zeltrax, and Octoroo. Boomtower cast a glance at the bedridden Kanon before he too filed suit and stomped through the vortex.

Shrike stood vigilant at the portal’s edge, but did not enter just yet. He waited as Shion walked back over to her sister, expression falling back to solemn disquiet. The Coppelion were already pale enough, most likely due to their genetic heritage, but looking at her now, Kanon seemed devoid of any color. The light brown of her hair seemed to be wilting, her face sunken in. Her hand, which Shion took into her own, felt so frail, so light.

It almost made her miss Ibara. She wondered if that girl and her little squad back home would know what to do. Had some magic concoction that could save her sister.

But they weren’t here. Not this time. Just Shion.

So she’d find a way. Herself.

“Everything will be okay, big sis,” whispered Shion, giving her sister’s hand the gentlest of squeezes. “I’m gonna find someone who can fix you, maybe fix us both. And then everything will be awesome and great and normal again.”

That was what the younger Ozu kept repeating in her head all the way up until she stepped through the portal, Shrike following right behind her. Within seconds of their departure, the vortex swirled into nothingness.

Chris padded up to Sever, a hand resting upon his forearm. “You… think they’re gonna be okay?”

The cyborg heaved a sigh. “I can’t say I’m not worried for them.” Perhaps sending a bunch of habitual brawlers who live for combat on a wild goose chase for a savior who may not even exist wasn’t the brightest of ideas. But with so few options and even more limited time, they couldn’t afford a second. Not with the condition Kanon was in.

He placed a hand over Chris’s own. “We will just have to put our faith in them. Have a little hope.”

Chris beamed a little at this. “Yeah. Hope.”

“Am I getting that drink today or not?” Minami asked.

“No.”

“Oh, come on!”

“And so the green one came zooming towards me, right? Like some crazy speed, like something you’d see with another Lancer. Not like me, of course, because, well, obviously I’m faster than any ordinary human. But I guess FOR a human you could consider her fast. Fast enough to zip around and get a few cuts on me. Honestly, I could handle a bit of that, but THEN she started aiming for my tail. Can you believe that? MY TAIL! That’s just rude and inconsiderate, totally unsportsmanlike. Especially when her purple girlfriend joined in and started going for my throat and hair! Two-on-one’s TOTALLY cheating! I guess it didn’t matter in the long run because eventually I got the upper hand on them, because I’m a Servant so obviously I did, and I smacked them around some until they got knocked out. And, for the record, I did NOT demolish the building we were fighting inside of. Because it would have fallen onto my poor, precious, pink head. Tell THAT to those stinking snappy demon sisters back home.”

That was the long-winded, haughty answer Elizabeth had delivered when Scarecrow and Takano returned to their shared hotel room, finding the Servant a bit roughed up but not too worse for wear, as well as her two assailants gagged and bound plopped right onto the living room couch, glaring daggers at all three of them.

“Uh-huh…” had been Takano’s response. Scarecrow’s was “Why on Earth would you bring them back to our hotel room?”

Elizabeth hummed to herself. “I dunno. Further punishment or something? They assaulted me, after all. That’s a villain-y thing to do, right? Eye for an eye?”

Scarecrow groaned, running a hand down his emaciated mask. “I suppose I should be impressed you were able to tie them up yourself.”

“Huhhhh?” Elizabeth frowned, hands on her hips, puffed out cheeks, tail swishing about. “I AM Elizabeth Bathory, you know! I may not like to focus on my own history too much, but I still HAVE all the skills I did back then – torture techniques included!”

“Right. How could I be so… ignorant.”

“Are you making fun of me?”

Takano ignored the two’s squabbling, instead taking interest in the weapons of Elizabeth’s assailants. The satchels of scissors and the sheathed sword had been set in the corner of the room, blood cleaned off from the sharp steel. Less about letting them rust and more not getting the room messy – a surprising consideration on Elizabeth’s part, all things considered.

“Quite the unique set here. As are you two, I suppose. A serial killer pair, in this day and age?” Takano quipped, secretly chuckling at the irony of her words. A part of her would have imagined Japan would see more peaceful days in the future. Clearly, that wasn’t so, not that it bothered her much. “How charmingly vicious.”

The two, Otoya and Satori, matched her gaze. The former was clearly agitated, eyes slanted and radiating anger, the latter, however, was less so. Two giant yellow orbs, almost unnerving in their largeness. As if they saw right through Takano. Curiously strange.

Wait. Scissors. Something clicked, then. Right before dinner, she had skimmed the dossiers Yuri had handed them. A few bullet points had popped out to her, but she had all but set them aside to focus on enjoying her meal with Crane. Now, it was coming back to her…

“Ah ha…” Takano chuckled. Her slanted eyes fell upon Otoya. She never flinched, even as Takano came forward, looming over the purple-haired killer. “Otoya, Otoya… now there’s a name that rings a bell.”

“It does?” Scarecrow asked. He actually HADN’T skimmed the documents. All too preoccupied with making reservations and fixing up his suit. He’d never admit that it had been a long… long time since his last formal date. The last thing anyone needed to know was much he wanted it to have gone right, for once…

“What did they call you in the papers… oh, right. The Jack the Ripper of the 21st Century! How quaint.”

Whether it was the laugh that followed or the knowing of the nickname, Otoya’s hardened glare turned into one of surprise. Satori, for her part, seemed unbothered. Clearly made of sterner stuff.

“Don’t be so incensed. If anything, this is the mother of all coincidences,” Takano smirked, beginning to pace around as she spoke. “We paid a trip to your ‘alma mater’ and managed to acquire your profile from your school’s administrator, and on the same night you attack our friend here. Truly fate is funny like that, isn’t it?”

“If you wanna call it that,” Elizabeth yawned.

Otoya, of course, couldn’t give much of a reply. Her eyes definitely didn’t hide her desire to do something terrible to all three of them, though.

“Glare at us all you want, my dear, but it won’t be what gets you out of this situation,” Takano continued. “I’m all too familiar with having unbearably bad luck in her life, but I was also the one who managed to turn it around. With my own power. And that was before my latest venture, of which I’m experiencing quite a better rate of success than before…” She chuckled. “But I guess I’m rambling now, aren’t I?”

Low, muffled grumbles, most likely of disinterest, came from Otoya.

“Though it might sound like lunacy, you have yet to realize what an advantageous position you’re in. So. Here’s what we’re going to do.” Takano leaned over, eyeing both Otoya and Satori. “I am going to take off both your gags. We’re going to have a proper conversation between us, and if I like what I hear from you, I may just divulge exactly why you’re in a good spot right now. You’re NOT going to bite my fingers off, or speak with too much disrespect, or I’ll leave you to the mercy of Elizabeth, who I’m sure would love to finish what you two started.”

“You bet I am!” the Servant crowed from across the room.

Takano stared directly at Otoya now. Her amber, half-lidded gaze meeting Otoya’s steely aquamarine eyes. “Do we have a deal, Little Jack?”

Otoya kept on staring in irate silence. It almost seemed like she wasn’t going to respond at all…

But she eventually nodded. Slow and deliberate.

Takano smiled. “How wonderful.”

She hooked a finger around Otoya’s gag and pulled, letting it fall down the killer’s neck. As she gulped in a few breaths of air, Takano repeated the gesture on Satori. While Otoya pitched something of a coughing fit, Satori steadied her breathing, expression never faltering. Scarecrow was impressed – the verdette seemed fearless. That intrigued him.

When Otoya stopped sputtering, her once cheery, overly friendly voice came out as a rasp, “Don’t expect a thank you for that.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” Takano replied.

Otoya swiveled a look over towards Elizabeth. “And don’t think WE’RE finished, either. I’m going to GET my little piece of that lizard tail of yours.”

“DRAGON!” Elizabeth practically leapt out of her seat. “I’m. A. DRAGON!”

Scarecrow put a hand on her shoulder, attempting to force her down. “Calm down.”

“You wouldn’t like it if they called Strawman, would you?”

“No. Still. Calm. Down.”

Elizabeth seethed, but relented, flopping back down and muttering curses under her breath.

“Haha! You guys are funny,” Satori laughed. An airy, light sound. “How exciting. Haven’t been in a pickle this peculiar in a while, have we, Otoya?”

“Not really the time, Satori.”

“Oh. You must be serious. No Satorin?”

“How can you NOT be serious right now?”

“You should know.” Satori swept her gaze from Elizabeth to Scarecrow to Takano. “Comes with the profession. If these three really wanted to kill us, we’d already be dead.”

“Your girlfriend is quite perceptive,” Takano chuckled.

“I know. It’s one of her many good traits,” Otoya sighed. “It’s her inability to take things seriously that I’m not a fan of.”

“Huuuuuh?” Another airy drawl. She sounded almost amused. “But not taking situations seriously is your whole persona. Until they go awry. Then you get oh-so very upset.”

“S-Shut up.”

“Got it in oneeeeee.”

“I kinda get it, actually,” Elizabeth butted in, earning stares. “I’m… not used to looking back at my OWN story, because it’s ANCIENT history to me. But. Being cutesy and polite, friendly and welcoming. It lures people in, makes them drop their guard. And stuff.”

“If you knew this, why did it happen to you?” Scarecrow asked.

Elizabeth went red. “W-Well! How was I supposed to know there were serial killers running around the place? Japan seemed so peaceful!”

(If anyone tuned into the news then, they’d find a number of stations showing footage of a beloved local restaurant billowing with a sickly gas, and two masked individuals fleeing the scene, presumed to be the perpetrators. A poor, frightened, babbling waiter that worked at the establishment would claim up and down it was a Shinigami and his bride.)

Otoya laughed. “Peaceful? Yeah. Okay, Elichi.”

“Don’t call me that.”

“I guess she’s got the right of it, though,” admitted the purple-haired killer. “It’s all too easy to lure in people with a smile and an upbeat personality. No one ever expects the cheery one to do anything bad until a pair of shears are halfway through your abdomen.”

She looked to Takano then. “So. You went to Myojo, then? That’s where you found my info?”

The blonde looped around the room, fishing out the Black Class dossiers from a night stand cabinet. “The head chairwoman was kind enough to give us a few details, yes.”

“Guess personal privacy is the only thing that’s been murdered tonight.” Despite this, Otoya sighed, almost dreamily. “What fond memories, though. I was having the time of my life there.”

“A shame you got kicked out so early,” Satori giggled.

“I was able to sneak back in.”

“Just to get caught and thrown in prison again.”

“I thought you promised not to bring that back up.”

“Did I? I don’t rememberrrrr.”

Takano snapped her fingers twice. “Ladies. Cute as your routine is, let’s stay on track, shall we?”

“Bossy, much?” Otoya grumbled.

Takano glowered at her for a second before instead focusing on Satori. “You weren’t a part of the Tenth Year Black Class, Miss Satori.”

“Nooooope! Different school altogether, different prefecture and everything,” Satori admitted. “Aichi Symbiosis Private Academy. It was originally an all-girls school, but once it went co-ed, the girls were given permission to wield weapons for protection against the boys.”

“You want to take back your statement about how safe this country is?” Scarecrow said to Elizabeth. She just stuck out her tongue at him.

“How delightfully violent. Japan really has become so more entertaining,” Takano chuckled. She pulled one of the loveseats tucked into the corner of the room out so she could sit. Folding one leg over the other, she rested a hand in an open palm. “You girls have sufficiently gained my attention. Tell me how you two met, and I promise to release you.”

“WHAT?” Elizabeth snapped, practically knocking over Scarecrow with a lash of her tail.

Otoya was incredulous. “I’m actually in agreement with Elichi… what?”

“Ahaha! I think we’re winning them over.” Satori kicked her feet some in joy.

“Y-Y-You can’t! I… you… them! UGH!” Elizabeth whipped around to face Scarecrow. “C’mon! Talk some sense into her!”

Scarecrow took a seat himself, clearly unbothered. “Takano knows what she's doing. Besides. Since you’re such a strong, fast Servant, you’d be able to protect us should they try anything. Right, Elizabeth?”

Elizabeth grinded her teeth. “Fine, whatever! If we’re stuck listening to these psychos, I’M getting myself something tasty!” With that, she stomped out the hotel room door, slamming it behind her.

Scarecrow sighed. “She’s going to realize all too late she’ll need money…”

“Leave her be.” Takano smiled at the two bound killers. “The floor is yours, my dears.”

Otoya clearly didn’t look ready to divulge any information. Satori shifted her weight, leaning into her girlfriend’s back. “We’re already this far in, might as well play along.”

“This is so humiliating,” Otoya grumbled. She heaved a sigh. “Fine. Guess it’s story time with Otoya and Satorin.”

Otoya Takechi was the eighth member of the Tenth Year Black Class, enticed just as much by the reward of receiving anything she desired should she succeed in killing the target as she was in being allowed to kill freely within the bounds of the academy. Of course, she learned the hard way the limits of such rules. She was the first to send out the letter of intent to the target, using the guise of another – her very own roommate – to dispel suspicion. Otoya had been laying on the charm to the target, cheerfully befriending her both in and out of class, telling lies through smiles and promises of protection to let the girl’s guard down. She even managed to dupe the target’s actual protector, locking her away while Otoya went in for the kill…

But it all fell apart. The protector got free, and even the target managed to slip out of her bounds, knocking Otoya out the very same way she had done to her. Time expired, and Otoya lost the game. Furious, she had attacked the arbitrator the next day… which was her BIGGEST mistake. Had she stayed her hand, maybe she would have just been let go, sent out into the world, the only loss being her unsatiated bloodlust. But attacking Nio cost her that freedom, and it was back to prison for her.

It didn’t hold her for long, though. She knew how to escape. She had done so a few times in the past. They thought that more guards or advanced security technology would stop her. Not so!

Otoya snuck back into Myojo, ready for a do-over. On her own terms.

She was thwarted again. This time stopped by one of the only remaining members of the class at that point. The rich snob. How was she supposed to expect the girl faking her weak constitution was actually a cyborg in disguise? That should have come off as more surprising than Otoya being a serial killer!

Even though she got her own cuts in, she was no match for Sumireko Hanabusa’s advanced prosthetics. She remembered seeing stars when being punched across the girl’s private room, slamming up against the glass. Then Nio returned, literally popping out from a hole in the wall.

That was it, though. Her two attempts at taking out the target at Myojo slipped right through her fingers. And this time they sent her to a newer prison a few prefectures over. They had long forgone rehabilitation despite her age upon learning just how many murders she had gotten away with.

The events of her failure would replay in her mind as she twiddled through the day. Incarceration in Japanese prisons was dull enough, but especially more so for her. Workshops and tasks involving cutting tools, such as woodcutting or cooking, were strictly off-limits to her. Apparently, her new home had been informed of her last escape, how she used a pair of kitchen shears to injure a cook and wound a few guards right around the shift change. That meant a lot of yard duty. Pulling weeds wasn’t so bad… the first three days. But someone on the prison staff must have had it out for her. Perhaps a relative or close friend to someone she had axed? Whatever the case, baking in the hot summer sun for weeks on end may just have done her in.

She was about two months into her time when Satori arrived. Another sweltering day, scrapping at the same bed of grass as the day before. Holes were starting to form at the end of some of the fingers of her gloves, the once unblemished gray material dirtied from repeated weed evisceration.

Otoya worked her shift in stern contemplation – her little sing-song hums had led to her getting barked at one too many times for her liking, so she had resolved to keep silent during work hours. Focus on the task at hand, no matter how absolutely boring.

The sight of flowing, lime-green locks caught her attention. Captivated her, even. Even as guards snapped at her to get back to work, Otoya watched as the new inmate, looking as old as her, she had guessed, crossed the field. Even at the distance, she could see Satori's wide eyes. A small, calm smile on her face.

The face of a monster. Just like Otoya.

In a shocking instance, luck smiled upon her. Satori Tamaba was to be placed right in her own personal cell, just across from Otoya’s own. Usually, personalized, single cells were given out to those who were especially well behaved. For those of Otoya and Satori’s ilk, however, it was for the others’ protection. Otoya always got a kick out of that.

However, even at such a close distance, Otoya wouldn’t be given a chance to speak with Satori until a week or so after she had arrived. Not for lack of trying, however. The three-hour break time for inmates should have given Otoya more than enough time to find wherever Satori had wound up at. She learned later that the verdette’s break-in process involved a good deal of solitary before being allowed to commingle with the others. Again, presumed safety reasons.

It was about halfway through the second week of the new girl’s arrival that Otoya finally managed to spot the girl. She hadn’t been in the rec room, nor any of the fewer smaller rooms for additional educational purposes for those wishing to learn new skills for when they were discharged. No. Otoya had found Satori in the outdoor area. Just. Staring out through the tall, barbed wire fence.

What an oddball, Otoya thought. Though, who was SHE, of all people, to judge?

She saddled up right next to Satori. If the verdette had noticed Otoya’s approach, she didn’t make any sign of it. So, she attempted conversation. “Whatcha looking at?”

“That’s the direction of the school I used to attend,” said Satori. There was no pause or jolt from her, just an immediate reply. “The people I want to murder are back there. Don’t want to forget the way.”

It took all Otoya had to not burst out laughing, jamming a fist against her mouth. The guards would’ve cut their time short if she made a ruckus. That wasn’t the answer she had been expecting, but she loved it.

“You’re a riot! Already plotting their deaths after only just getting here,” Otoya said through stifled laughter.

“Been plotting it well before then.” Satori turned then, two golden eyes, fish-eyed and deep as the void despite their brightness. They were just as stunning as they were monstrous. Otoya was entranced by them. Or maybe trapped was the more sufficient word? “Sometimes you just get sick of the people you’re stuck with. Don’t you?”

Otoya fought through the twin lighthouse beams of Satori’s stare to give a reply. “Oh, like you wouldn’t believe. I could rattle off my own hit list as if I was going out for groceries!”

That earned a short laugh out of the new girl. “I’m Satori Tamaba.”

“I know. You’re right across from my cell.”

“Oh.” Satori co*cked her head to the side. “That makes you Otoya, then.”

“That’s me alright! They warned you about me during your onboarding?”

“No. I heard about your capture on the news.” A pause. “Your second capture, I guess.”

“Bleh.” Otoya stuck out her tongue. “Lame. Not a good first impression.”

Satori shook her head. “Not at all. I’m jealous, really. About twenty-seven known victims, among an unspecified number of other unsolved disappearances. I think that’s impressive.” She co*cked her head completely to the other side. Otoya hadn’t noticed if she was blinking or not. “DO you know your total kill count?”

Huh. Actual praise. She’d never had gotten that before. Otoya threw her arms up, linked her hands together behind her head. “Well. Can’t say I remember the specific number, some of them all kind of mesh together, y’know?” She smiled. “I remember the way some of them screamed, though.”

Satori made a complete O with her mouth and clapped rapidly in amazement. “Spoken like a true psychopath. I’m honored to be in your presence.”

“Oh, pfft. Stop it. What I want to know.” Otoya stuck out an index finger, inched it close to Satori. She hooked a few stray strands of the verdette’s mop of hair and twirled them around. “Is the story behind how a pretty face like YOU winded up in a dump like this.”

Satori hadn’t recoiled like Otoya had half-expected, just merely… stared. “Well, it goes something like-”

She was interrupted by the blaring of the prison siren, indicating that recess was over. “Oh come ON!” Otoya whined.

Satori laughed, a light, disarming sound. “It’s not like we’ve got anywhere to be, you know. We can continue the story later.”

“Hmph. You bet we will, Satorin!”

The prison staff’s worst fears true right then and there. The two most dangerous inmates had become friends with one another after just a single conversation.

Once the daily work was complete, Otoya and Satori spent the free period together, separated from the rest of the inmates to talk, going over the worthless schools they attended and the soon-to-be victims that were once their respective classmates. Sometimes, in hushed tones, they’d discuss the best way to off a person. Otoya learned Satori was not only a swordswoman, but a proficient, calculated one at that.

“So your school let all the girls carry around weapons, any kind they wanted, and had the right to do whatever they wanted with them to the male students… but not actually kill anyone.” Otoya sighed. “Laaaaaame.”

“I agree. The others in the Supreme Five Swords got close but we all faltered,” said Satori. “So embarrassing.”

“I don’t see why you’d even bother with that Fudo guy. He sounds like the most basic of basic guys – though I guess the martial arts thing is at least a little interesting. But not by much.”

Fudo Nomura, the delinquent that challenged the private academy’s head disciplinary squad so he could merely leave campus whenever he wanted. He needed to earn stamps from each of the Five Swords to do so… and he had. Along with a bit more from each of the young women there, even Satori for a time, though she hated to have admitted it.

“I don’t know what I saw in him. Beating me was impressive, a first really, but…” Satori frowned, a redness in her ears. “It shouldn’t have MEANT anything at all.”

Hearing Satori had middling feelings for a guy like Fudo had disappointed Otoya in a way she wasn’t too happy to confess, even to herself. At least it had, until Satori had added the asterisk of “both sides still appeal to me” after that original admission. It lit something in Otoya that she hadn’t felt in… well. Ever, really.

“Well. I personally think you’ve got SOME kind of mettle to think you could kill him AND the other four. Weren’t they your friends?”

“We were all Supreme Swords, but it's not like we were all buddy-buddy with each other. It was less like friends and more like the strongest students joining together. A fake kind of club. Pretty sure Warabi would call me a monster behind my back.” It seemed like the first time Otoya ever saw Satori’s brow knit up with anger. “Wish I had at least cut out her tongue. She had the most annoying laugh.”

“Maybe we can make a return trip.” Otoya ambled a little closer. Green and purple hair were practically melding together. “Make her pay. Make them all pay. Wouldn’t that be fun?”

“I’m not opposed. Though I also kind of don’t care about them. Let him have his dumb harem without me.” Satori whispered, unaffected by the closeness. “We’d have to get out of here first anyhow. And I’m not leaving here without my sword.”

“I’ll take that into consideration.”

“Are you planning something?”

“Maybeeeeee…”

That something ended up being a breakout. It took another two and a half months of prep work. Staying in line, not attracting attention outside of the obvious – they were already inmates to be observed closely, but them together? There may as well have been a hundred different spotlights on them at any given moment. Still, if there was one thing Otoya was adept at, aside from murder, it was keeping up an act. It was a bit absurd, to feign obliviousness and weakness while already behind bars. But she did what she could to lessen the amount of eyes on her.

Satori was somehow even better at it. There was just this… air around her. Truly a girl that didn’t really fit this world. Otoya laughed away the idea of her being an alien… but then she remembered Sumireko, her robotic megaton punch, and the month-long bruise it left on her stomach that still stung if she ran a finger over it the wrong way, and suddenly it didn’t sound AS absurd.

Otoya had memorized a good deal of the layout of the prison. The subtle shift changes, some of the guards' quirks. The laundry truck delivery and departure times. There was a moment, in just four days’ time, where a new laundry shipment was going to come in. And gossip around the rec room said it was going to be right around a guard change, just before recess ended. That was just enough for Otoya to work with. It was a long shot, and would mostly involve a lot of “make it up as you go” in the later half, but with Satori, it might just work.

The day she was going to spring the idea, Satori had a visitor. It had eaten up most of her rec time, so Otoya hadn’t a chance to ask about it until the following day.

“A younger sister, huh? You never mentioned her before.”

“I didn’t think it’d matter. I thought…” A beat. Satori was unreadable. “I swore she would have all but forgotten me.”

“Blood is thicker than water. Or so I’ve heard.” Otoya shrugged. “My family disowned me AGES ago. I never think about ‘em.”

“If only Misogi HAD disowned me.”

“That… came out of nowhere. What did she say?”

“That she missed me. That she hoped I was doing okay in here. Asked what I would want for a gift.” A dry laugh. “I swear. She’s a stupid little girl.”

“Aw. She cares.”

“She shouldn’t.” An edge appeared in Satori’s voice, so sudden and sharp it actually surprised Otoya. Satori placed a hand over the left side of her face. “She was a cute girl. Cuter than I. Got all the attention from our parents. I was jealous and wanted what she had. So I hurt her. Gave her a permanent scar around her whole left eye. Stole her name, her identity. I became Satori, SHE became Misogi.”

She balled her hand into a fist. “And yet she never left my side. Like a puppy. A stupid puppy. I stole her life. I scarred her, ordered her around, made her an extra to my schemes against Fudo… yet she never left me. Never thought ill of me. Even now she came to me…”

Compassion wasn’t really Otoya’s forte. Deceit and murder and pain and the pleasure that came from that, that she could do. That she could understand. Empathy wasn’t really in her arsenal.

So she had nothing to respond with. No consoling words. The talk of the escape plan died in her throat – the very least she could do in light of this unexpected heart-to-heart was let Satori only have to worry about one thing at a time.

They had both left for bed that evening without exchanging any other words.

Otoya was used to sleeping for a maximum of four hours. A weird little habit she developed once her murderous life had begun. Can’t stay in one spot for too long, after all.

Still, it was weird when only after two and a half hours her cell door was split off its hinges. She had all but seconds to quickly scuttle off her futon before the door fell forward and flattened her head. When her blurred, half-asleep vision finally cleared, there stood Satori in the door frame, wielding a sharp blade. Her eyes gleamed in the night, inhuman. Otherworldly.

Hot.

“We’re leaving.” Satori said sternly. She tossed something across the floor towards Otoya. One of her satchels, a sliver of sharp steel glinting from within.

Otoya wasn’t usually one to be ordered around. But in this one instance, she didn’t have to be told twice.

“And then we killed something like twelve or thirteen guards between us, Satori managed to cut through the steel fence in the courtyard, and we fled into the night.” Otoya finished her retelling.

“Aaaaaaaand?” Satori nudged her.

“What? Did I miss something?”

“Mm-hm.” Satori nodded. “The part where we ran for fifteen blocks, were completely out of breath, and before I could ask if you were alright, you kissed me.”

“I don’t think you understand how attractive you looked covered in three other peoples’ blood.”

“And I tasted all three of them, and more, on your lips.”

“Was it or was it not hot?”

“Mmmmmmmm. You got me. It was.”

“Groddy…” Elizabeth blanched. She had returned halfway through the story, disappointedly with nary a drink or snack in her arms.

Scarecrow looked at her. “Your nickname in life was literally-”

“The Bloody Countess! Yes! I KNOW. Don’t REMIND ME.”

Takano clapped. “Awww, such a lovely tale of bloodshed and kindred spirits.”

“Yes, we’re very happy together.” Otoya wiggled about. “Now cut us loose, my wrists are starting to hurt.”

“I guess not THAT happy together…” Satori sighed.

“You know that’s not what I meant.”

Takano slipped a hand into one of Otoya’s satchels and flicked out a pair of scissors. “It’s a shame, really. In the end, neither of you got the revenge you were hoping for. On any of your former classmates.”

“Maybe we did, and I just didn’t tell you,” Otoya snapped.

“With a sad*stic ego like yours? Yes, my dear. You would have.”

“You know…” Satori began.

“Shut. It.”

“You’re so mean to me.”

Otoya rolled her eyes. “Would it be nice to finish what I started with Harucchi? Yes. Would it be nice to gut Azuma and Nio and Sumireko? Also yes. You don’t think I haven’t looked them up and tried? They’re professional assassins! Some have dropped off the grid permanently, and others don’t sit still in one spot for too long… except for Nio but…” she shuddered. “No. I’d need more time for her.”

Takano gave a quick glance to Scarecrow. He met it with a nod.

“You never asked why us three decided to visit Myojo Academy,” said Takano.

“Should I care?” Otoya spat back.

“Temper, my dear, temper. As you may have guessed, we’re not exactly from around here. Less than tourists, more… opportunists, you could say. We were in the exact market for ones of your ilk, but perhaps not as terribly bloodthirsty.”

“You’re looking for a killer who isn’t… a killer.” Otoya wrinkled her nose. “What is this, some kind of riddle?”

Satori gave a lilting laugh. “An assassin with a good-natured heart! I’d say that’s rare… but it sounds exactly like the rest of Supreme Swords. Or at least Rin or Mary.”

“Actually… now that you say that aloud… Harucchi fits the bill as well.” Otoya glared at Takano. “Why, though? You want to kill someone you don’t even know just because WE want them dead?”

“We’re the leaders of a syndicate who have some lofty ambitions, you could say. Our plan involves a little bit of finesse, a little bit of travel… and a lot of death,” Takano told them. “Like I said, we’re not from around here. Far, farther from here, in fact.”

“You know… I should have probably figured that.” Otoya cast a glance at Elizabeth. “She’s ABSURDLY strong. Some cuts from me and Satori should have been enough to make anyone keel over. And even I can tell those horns and that tail aren’t just some fancy, expensive cosplay.”

Elizabeth grabbed at her tail instinctively. “No touchy!”

“A supervillain society, maybe?” Satori pondered aloud. “Like from comic books?”

Scarecrow chuckled. “Something like that.”

“We’ll divulge all our secrets to you, if you agree to work with us. Help us find one of your old enemies and slay them, and afterwards, should you impress us, you’re free to join our syndicate.” Takano smiled. “I think you’ll find like-minded folks already a part of our gruesome family. I’d imagine you fit right in. Many benefits for you, I’d say. All-in-all, a rather enticing offer, wouldn’t you agree?”

Otoya chewed on the inside of her cheek. After getting thrashed around by Elizabeth, getting looked down upon and then divulging the last couple months to these strangers… she didn’t like it. It’s not like killing would ever go stale. Not with Satori by her side. The only reason at this point to cooperate was to NOT be killed immediately. Given what they were hoping to accomplish, these three weirdos turning Otoya and Satori over to the police didn’t seem like something they’d do.

She didn’t like or trust any of them. The feeling seemed mutual from Elizabeth, and this Scarecrow guy sitting in the corner all spooky like was absolutely shady. Takano was definitely the most unnerving of them all, though. Otoya knew her type – because she WAS her type. She saw it in the blonde’s eyes. A pretty face, who sold lies with a smile and a soft voice to get what she wanted.

…maybe Takano knew that. That they were cut from the same cloth. Like Satori said, they could have killed them at any point… but they sat and listened to everything Otoya said. Sure, there was still the chance that they were just waiting for the information they wanted and THEN they’d kill them. Keep up the act for as long as possible. Again, though, they could have just tortured them into that information, not ask to partner up.

Another nudge, this time a loop of green fluttered past her vision. “I’m willing to take the gamble on them,” said Satori. “If it’s a free ticket that gets us to Fudo or Haru, I’m game.” Then softly so only Otoya could hear. “I know you want to, too.”

And she was right. Otoya DID want that.

She looked up to Takano. And nodded.

“Okay. We’re in. Untie us already. We’ve got murders to plan.”

“I-In my h-humble de-de-defense, I think I a-absolutely k-killed it out there.”

“And you think that just somehow magically gets you off the hook?”

“...k-kinda? W-Wasn’t l-like you w-were doin’ m-much entertaining-ing.”

“I wasn’t HERE, you nimrod!”

“W-What was t-that? My h-hearing’s n-not so good anymore-ore. Something-ing about r-rods and r-rims?”

“CUT. IT. OUT.”

“You know, you have no one to blame but yourself for having him programmed to be a smartass.”

“You’re NOT helping, babe.”

Despite the unanimous applause from Ozzie’s audience, no one was coming to their evening entertainment’s defense when the club’s owner returned, finding the doppelganger of his number one showman strutting about and stealing the limelight. Robo Fizz’s entourage were unable to make a sneaky getaway, halted by the irate demon bouncer Enmu had put to sleep earlier. As such, the whole crew was plucked up and forced into one of the managerial meeting spaces in the back of the club. Enmu, Barry, Seryu, Bogie, and Meme (whose multiple copies had all faded away the instant the Demon King of Lust had appeared) were smushed together onto a single couch, made to watch as the original Fizzorolli hounded his mechanical counterpart. Asmodeus oversaw the whole scene, glare poking out from over folded arms. Though, he didn’t appear completely cross - he found his leading man’s tantrum quite adorable.

“Where do you get the GALL to come up onto MY stage and perform in MY name?” Fizzoroli sneered, extending a finger to prod his robotic double’s chest.

“I g-get the g-gall from YOU, D-DIPsh*t-sh*t!” Robo Fizz countered, mimicking the action with slightly more force behind his poke.

“Again, he’s got you there,” Asmodeus quipped, suppressing a chuckle.

“OZZIE!” Fizzoroli cried.

“I-I don’t g-get what t-the problem i-is,” Robo Fizz spat. “I w-was only d-doing what I w-was programmed-d-d to do-do.”

Barry chuckled. “Heh. He said doo-doo.”

“Could you PLEASE, for once, read the situation we’re in and NOT be crass, you psychopath?” Seryu hissed.

“Could YOU not be such a stick-in-the-mud? And where do YOU get off calling ME a psychopath? Hypocrite much?”

Now it was Bogie’s turn to giggle. “Hehe. You said get off.”

“I am surrounded by degenerates,” Seryu groaned, burying her head into her hands.

“Does… does she not know what Ring she’s in?” Meme asked Enmu, the Lower Moon very unfortunately wedged in between her and Bogie. For any other man, it may have been a dream come true. For Enmu, he felt suffocated and, for once in his life, uncomfortable.

“She’s… having a hard time accepting her ultimate fate,” he muttered.

“That’s, like, half of everyone in all Hells. Or, at least, most of the really unfun ones.”

“Yeah, I don’t like those.” Boogie shook her head. “Unfun-”

“Isn’t in your dictionary, I know,” Meme sighed.

“Do I say that a lot?”

“Literally all the time.”

“Huh. Y’know, I never really thought-”

“HEY. PEANUT GALLERY.” Fizzorolli looped over to glower at the five. “Shut your mouth holes, I’m TRYING to argue and belittle one of my many, many robotic incarnations, and it’s already difficult enough to do that once I realized I may very well just have a fetish for that sort of thing. So could you KEEP. IT. DOWN?”

“No one here’s louder than you, dickhe*d,” Meme scowled.

Fizzorolli almost began a new shouting match with Meme, only for his glare to fall on Bogie. “Hey, wait a tick. Didn’t I fire you?”

“Uhhhhh… nooooo?” Bogie gave him a cheery smile. “Actually, I think what you meant to do was give me a raiiiiise?”

Fizzoroli rolled his tongue around his mouth as he thought. “Um. No. Definitely remember giving the order to fire you.”

“That must have been the… other… cute clown demon girl on the staff? I’m Bogie with an “ie,” the other girl’s name ends with an “ey,” but I could understand your confusion-”

“This place ain’t big enough for two clowns running around, let alone three.”

“I also have the names of everyone employed here at the moment,” Asmodeus added, scooping up a black clipboard from the desk behind him. He fished out a pair of reading glasses from his front coat pocket and scanned the document. “Says it right here, Bogie. Employment terminated.”

Bogie frowned, shoulders dropping. “Oh poo.”

“Ha, ha!” Robo Fizz pointed. “Y-You said-”

“SHUT IT, ME- I mean YOU!” Fizzarolli shouted. “Oz, can’t you, like, super banish these schmucks to some nth dimension, or force ‘em to work in your factory?”

“You wouldn’t just want to kill them?” Asmodeus responded.

“No way! I wanna make ‘em regret ever crossing ME for the rest of their miserable unlives!”

Asmodeus frowned, an ever so slight facial movement. Something that Enmu picked up on. The Lower Moon had to work for it, being careful where he placed his hands, but he eventually freed himself from the couch, almost falling right in front of everyone. He regained his composure quickly before addressing the club’s owners. “Gentlemen, I… apologize for any disturbance we may have caused in your club tonight. As you can see, we’re more or less a motley crew of our own, just hoping to relieve a bit of pressure off all our shoulders. Our robotic compatriot here steered us in the direction of your establishment to ease off some tension. It wasn’t… exactly our intention to upstage anyone.”

“S-Speak f-for yourself-elf,” Robo Fizz sputtered with a low hiss.

Fizzoroli looked the Lower Moon up and down, scowling all the while. “I recognize that tone. It’s a bootlickin’ tone. The tone of someone faking it to either get something they want or to get out of a sticky situation. And, brother, we all know which one y’all are leaning towards.”

“I wonder about that, actually.” Enmu tapped at his chin. “Surely you heard the audience upon your arrival? Did your robotic double and dear Meme not put on quite the exciting performance?”

“Are… are you trying to NEGOTIATE your way out of this? You’ve got some balls to do that!”

“I confess that we did inadvertently overtake your place of business for a moment, that we can’t defend.” Enmu chose his words cautiously. He was confident in his skills as a wordsmith, it was partly the reason why he managed to stay in Muzan’s good graces whereas the other Lower Moons had been slaughtered. That didn’t make these two demons any less dangerous, but he’d wager getting through to them would be easier than speaking with his former leader. “And you may find this hard to believe, but we truly had no ill intent behind it. No maliciousness, just a bit of fun.”

“You’re right. I DO find that hard to believe, ya joker,” Fizzorolli hissed, tongue flicking out of his mouth. “Still Hell, ya know.”

“Of that, I am aware.”

“Take it that you’re the one managing this little squad of yours, then.” It was less of a question from Asmodeus and more of an already presumed truth looking for secondary confirmation.

“Indeed. Just a couple of wayward souls, though for some of us this predicament only makes our own personal situations twofold.”

“I swear we need a dictionary if we’re gonna be hanging out with this guy any longer,” Barry groaned.

“I pity you, truly. I can’t even say having a brain would improve your standing any better,” Seryu huffed.

“HEY!”

“I love it when someone talks all fancy-like.” Bogie placed her hands against her face, blushing. “I knew a French guy once. He tasted like a chocolate souffle.”

Robo Fizz, somehow going unnoticed, rose up from behind the couch, whispering in the jester woman’s ear: “Tu-Tu es un joli-i bouff-fon.”

Bogie squealed hysterically, kicking her feet erratically.

“Please, get a room already,” Meme huffed, shifting her whole body away from her friend to avoid having her foot smashed by the demon clown’s surprising strength. “You know where they are, after all.”

“What do you mean twofold?” Asmodeus queried, actually somewhat curious.

“OZ! Whaddya doing? You’re not ACTUALLY giving these yahoos the time of day, are ya?” Fizzorolli hopped back over to the demon king, extending his legs to be eye level with him.

“I don’t normally tolerate anyone skipping the queue or having my little froggy’s showmanship duplicated-” Asmodeus held out a hand and pinched Fizz’s cheek, shaking it a little. The imp shook his head in retaliation, unaware that his blush was showing through the clown makeup. “-but I was told by the staff in-charge that these trespassers, whoever they were, put on a heck of a show. Said that the actual line-up for the evening canceled on us. Even Meme pulled her weight.”

“Gee. Thanks. Only took me forever to get my chance up on stage,” the succubus grumbled.

“Would you rather I listen to Fizz? I can get you on the assembly line to check for defective vibrators with no breaks for the next quarter century lickity split.”

Meme grew contemplative for a second. “...do I-”

“You do not get to test them out.”

Meme pouted. “Buzzkill.”

“Anyway, I can tell at least you three ain’t from around these parts,” Asmodeus continued, glancing from Enmu to Seryu to Barry. To the latter two, he said, “You two bickering bozos got a whole rankness about you, so I’m guessing y’all wound up somewhere in Greed after you kicked the bucket.” Then, to Enmu. “You, my eloquent fellow, I actually can’t get a good read on. Ain’t feeling like you were from any of these Rings. More like one of them older, more traditional Hells from old Biblical times. And THAT is a most peculiar thing that I, again, wouldn’t normally make my business, but the mystery of it intrigues me.”

“That’s a leader of an entire Ring for ya,” Barry quipped. “Read us all like a book!”

“Your novel is about as complex as a children’s picture book,” Seryu snarled.

“Bitchy hypocrite!”

“Moronic psychopath!”

The pot finally boiled over, and the two were at each other's throats, tackling each other off the couch and rolling around the room. The spell that affected them faded from both their minds in this instance, Seryu not caring of the pain reverberating in her forehead when she slammed Barry’s head into the floor, likewise the serial killer ignoring the wave of pain in his chest when he kicked the former Jaeger off of him with a boot.

“Oh no! They’re fighting!” Bogie yelped.

“I-I know!” Robo Fizz gasped. Then, after a beat, “W-Who a-are we placing b-b-bets on-on?”

“The armored guy, for sure,” Meme replied. She fished out some bills that had been tucked in between her stockings, swiped up from many of the club patrons during her performance.

“H-How come?”

“Wasn’t Little Miss Green a cop?”

“Oh ye-e-eah! Makes s-sense!”

The two killers tumbled around the floor, all curses and punches, until eventually Asmodeus stepped in, picking both up roughly by their collars. “Alright, kiddos, knock it off. You want to bludgeon each other to death, go to Wrath. If you want to hate-f*ck, we can-”

“I’d rather DIE again!” Seryu spat, arms still flailing about.

“That can be ARRANGED!” Barry threatened, gloved hands just aching to grab at his jingling butcher’s blades.

It was there that the King of Lust saw the magic that linked the two, red static barely visible to others but clear as day to him. “Huh. What’s this here? A weak ass looking bonding spell? No wonder you two are so irritable, latched onto each other like this.”

“Not like we had much of a choice,” Barry said bitterly. “Guy who yoinked us up outta the drink from Greed basically forced us into servitude. Especially after THAT one slaughtered so many of his men.” He tried to kick at Seryu with his stubby legs, but to no avail.

“They had it coming,” Seryu huffed, folding her arms. “If only I had Koro with me, we would have made short work of that sexist imp Crimson and all his criminal lackeys.”

The namedrop must have meant something. Enmu noticed the original Fizzorolli flinch, the imp’s face blanching, while Asmodeus instantly flared up, already bright blue collar flaring up into burning neon flames, his trio of heads turning an enraged red. “WHAT was that name you JUST SAID?”

For the first time since arriving in Hell, Seryu actually felt fear creeping into her. “C-Crimson? He’s this crime lord in Greed that-”

“OH, I KNOW who he IS!” Asmodeus raged. His flames reared up, easily reaching the ceiling and instantly heating up the room. Bogie and Meme held onto each other in terror, knowing full well the power of one of the leader’s of a Ring. When Robo Fizz tried to do the same to Enmu, however, the Lower Moon swatted the robot away with a hand. “That little f*ck had the NERVE to kidnap and hurt MY little Fizzie! Thought he could BARGAIN away my whole company for him, the little TWAT!”

He brought Seryu and Barry right up to his main face, enraged eyes boring into the two of them. “WHERE IS HE?”

“H-He moves from safe house to safe house!” Barry gulped, holding up his hands. “Didn’t tell us any particulars! You know, a “he calls us” kinda arrangement!”

“We – well, at least I – have NO loyalty that wretch,” Seryu exclaimed. “He bonded me to THIS freak, after all!”

“Does it ALWAYS come back down to name calling with those two?” Fizzorolli asked Enmu.

Enmu shrugged. “Like children.”

“That sucks. And not in the fun way.”

“I now see where your robotic duplicate gets his lecherous behavior from.”

Though rage still coursed through him, Asmodeus managed to regain some composure, shrinking to his more normal self. He flicked a look over to Enmu. “You’re in charge of these schmucks, right? You’d vouch for them?”

“I can’t say that I’ve had the displeasure of meeting this Crimson myself, but, in a rare instance that I can assure you does not happen often, I… sympathize with their plight, being somewhat chained myself,” replied Enmu.

“What’s that mean?” Fizzorolli asked suspiciously.

“I was released from a prison cell some Hells away, just as our gracious host astutely guessed. I’m at the mercy of an impudent idiot calling himself king. Others like me are forced under his servitude, though we managed to trick the fool into allowing me access to travel across the various neighboring rings under the guise of recruitment,” Enmu exposited. “Does the name Malebolgea mean anything to you?”

Asmodeus made a face (three, technically) at that. “Yeah, one of the old timers. He and his ilk are older than most underworlds, dating way, waaaaaaaaay back. One of them old “make a deal, oops, you got duped, dumbass” types. His version of fun’s a lot more twisted. Far, far more pain and very little pleasure, unless it’s for himself, from what I remember. Can’t say that I’m much of a fan.”

“HE is this despot’s boss’s boss. My associates believe they’re planning something wicked for the mortal realm, which seemingly involves the consumption of my and all the souls of everyone imprisoned in his keep.”

“Wait, what?” Seryu blinked.

“We’re gonna get EATEN?” Barry yelped.

“Hard pass, I’m not into vore,” Meme blanched.

“Oh, I am!” Bogie’s proclamation silenced the room, everyone’s stares falling onto her, a mix of total surprise or complete revulsion. “Well… I AM!”

Fizzorolli nudged his robotic double with an elbow. “Still into that, Romeo?”

Robo Fizz gave it a thought. “Ya know-”

“Jeez, don’t answer that, you freak.”

“I-I’M Y-YOU!”

Enmu cleared his throat. “...As I was saying. The situation does not bode well for myself and the other souls trapped there. I already sold my soul to a leader who cared little for me, my fellows, or our individual success. I will NOT be sticking around for it to happen again, especially with how involuntary it is this time around.”

“We’re staging a jailbreak!” Bogie blurted out, quickly clamping her giant hands over her mouth afterwards. “Sorry, were you waiting to do a dramatic reveal? My bad.”

“I think you’ve lost talking privileges for the evening, girl,” Meme told her.

“Because of what I said earlier? Am… Am I being KINKSHAMED? In LUST?”

“That right?” Asmodeus hummed, amused. “Got a lotta guts trying to force your way topside. Ain’t too many who can get away with that unless they got a special trick up their sleeve.”

“Like a special little book they get from f*cking a demon prince,” Fizzaroli snickered.

“That’s an… awfully specific trick,” Enmu replied.

“Sure is.” The jester didn’t elaborate, instead skating over to eye up Enmu. “Quite a tall order for a bunch of ragtag dinks like you guys. Especially since you’d go for this second-hand, busted-up version of me rather than booking the OG original!”

“H-H-Hey, pal!” Robo Fizz jumped over, sliding right in between the Lower Moon and his progenitor. “I w-wouldn’t be s-so dec-crepit-pit if y-you thought t-to give j-just a fraction-n of a s-sh*t to repair me!”

“Fella, friend, buddy. You’re based on ME. You should KNOW that my time is valuable, I can’t just go around, willy-nilly checking up on every robo me to see if they need a tune up.”

“You l-literally NEVER v-visited Loo Loo Land-nd ONCE, but I b-bet you cashed all t-those big f-fat f-f*cking r-royalt-ties from MY perfor-formances, didn’t you?”

“That’s show business, babe. f*cking rickety ass slope.”

“I-I got a-ate by a f-f*cking DRAGON!”

“We took care of that, by the way!” Barry chimed in.

“Should warn you that Crimson’s men probably already came to pick it up and will try to sell it back to you under a different name at an exorbitant price,” Seryu added.

“Whaddya want, a f*ckin’ medal and a congratulatory handjob?” Fizzorolli hissed.

“I think the only person who would benefit from that would be Enmu…” Bogie replied with a disappointed sigh.

“An offer I will politely decline,” Enmu replied.

“What, I’m not GOOD enough for you now?” Fizzorolli spat. “Oh, wait, I forgot, you went and picked up the cheap knock-off first!”

“F-f*ck YOU!” Robo Fizz wound his legs up like dual springs and lunged – only for his way to be blocked as he collided into Seryu and Barry, the two placed in front of his path by Asmodeus. “O-Owie…”

“Alright, y’all, I think we’re getting off track here, lettin’ tempers fly a bit too easily,” said the Demon King of Lust.

“You’re one to talk…” Meme muttered.

“What was that?”

“Nothing!”

“Uh-huh, I thought so.” Asmodeus turned to face Enmu. “Alright, devil from beyond these Rings. Though I’m demon royalty myself, I gotta respect a freshly released sinner working towards a coup d’état against a dope imposter. Plus, even though Fizz ain’t too happy about all this, your crew’s timely arrival did save us from dealing with the headache of a mildly frustrated, especially horny crowd. Plus your little tidbits about Crimson were… informative. I think we’ll just call it even across the board, especially after I do this.”

He brought a hand over towards Seryu and Barry. To most in the room, it was as if he was grabbing at empty air, but really, he snatched up the red tinged magic that kept the two bound. It took little more than a strong squeeze, and the invisible strand was severed, barely a few sparks of staticky ruby red crackling in the air to denote it was ever there in the first place.

The action seemed to resonate with the now unchained. Barry stared at his metal mitts. “Huh. I don’t feel so… burdened, I guess?” He made a fist and pounded his metal stomach twice. Outside of an annoying clang in her ears, Seryu found herself no worse for wear.

“So the spell is broken…” she murmured to herself. Her eyes instantly narrowed, glaring daggers at Barry. He was doing much of the same.

Seryu’s arm instantly opened up to reveal her spiked ball and chain, while Barry unsheathed two of his butcher’s knives.

No words were exchanged between the two. Mostly because before either could launch a strike at the other, Enmu let out an exasperated sigh, held up his left hand, and muttered a command: “Sleep.”

Seryu and Barry instantly went limp, their eyes losing their fury as both flopped onto the floor.

“Whatever are we going to do with those two?” said the Lower Moon with a shake of the head.

Fizzorolli crawled up Asmodeus’s arm and onto his shoulder, a bewildered expression on his face. “Ozzie, you serious about this? Like, c’mon, they-”

“I know what they did, my lil’ froggy. But this is still my club, and I still call the shots. ‘Sides.” He grinned at Enmu. “I think this one’s a keeper. Gonna really shake things up down here something fierce, I can tell.”

The Lower Moon felt a little pride in that, and gave a short bow. “Your compliments do not go unappreciated.”

“But, uh.” Bogie jabbed a large finger at herself. “Am I still fired?”

“Yes,” Fizzarolli answered coldly.

“Aww…”

“D-Don’t worry ‘bout it-it, baby.” Bogie found her hands and arms softly bound by metal, Robo Fizz’s hands taking hers. “Y-You still g-got lil’ old, w-worn down me t-to make you laugh, amon-mong other-r things.”

That was more than enough for the clown demon. She giggled, pulling the robo jester into her embrace. “Works fine for me! Hehe!”

“You can go ahead and cut me loose too, chief,” said Meme. “I can already tell that even though my performance was a hit, I feel like my next time on stage here won’t be for a long, loooong time. And these guys are cooking up something interesting. I feel like I won’t want to miss it.”

“Well, don’t let the door hit your fat ass on your way out, lil’ miss internet pop star,” Fizzorolli snorted.

“Hey. Eat sh*t.”

“Alright. I think that’s enough for tonight. Y’all get out of here before I change my mind,” Asmodeus ordered. “Demon’s are real fickle, you know.”

“Oh, we’re well aware,” Enmu replied. He flicked his eyes down at the two sleeping at his feet. “Miss Bogie, if it’s not too much trouble.”

“You got it, new boss!” She replied cheerily, skipping across the room. Robo Fizz slunk off of Bogie to let her hoist Seryu and Barry up onto her shoulders using her monstrous strength.

The crew filed out of the room out into the club proper, one by one. There weren’t any parting words from anyone, no goodbyes, no “See you next Tuesdays.” Robo Fizz turned to give one final pointed glare at the original. He opened his mouth ever so slightly, faltered, and eventually resigned himself to simply leaving, a biting remark left dead on his tongue.

Enmu trailed behind, giving a short wave at Ozzie’s owners. “Well, it certainly might not have been the evening we were all expecting, but it certainly was an exciting one, wouldn’t you say?”

“It was something, alright,” Fizzorolli grumbled.

“You give ‘em Hell out there, little devil.” Asmodeus smirked.

“But of course,” was Enmu’s response before closing the door behind him.

The Lower Moon found his compatriots out on the street, the neon pinks of Lust’s many other establishments still coloring the forever night of the Ring. He was not surprised to find the demon bouncer from before on the ground outside the front door, groaning as a comical lump grew from the top of his head.

Meme was the first to spot him approaching. “Well, what’s the plan now, boss man? Because I’m gonna be real, I talked a big game in there just to stick it to the big guy, but really, this had better be something good. I’m going to be pissed if I just quit Lust’s number one nightclub for a crazy ass side gig.”

“Oh, but think of the FUN!” Bogie rocked back and forth on the balls of her feet, the sleeping Seryu and Barry bouncing upon her shoulders. “I think it’ll be exciting to go back topside! Lots of laughs and lives to take up there!”

“So glad that you’re so enthused,” said Enmu. “However, I fear we still have plenty of work ahead of us. At the very least, one more Ring to investigate before returning to our home base. Though, I suppose prison is the more apt term in this situation.”

One passing remark DID stick out in the back of Enmu’s mind, however. Fizzorolli, the original, offhandedly mentioned something about a tome of some kind. Asmodeus seemed to be aware of its powers as well, about returning to the surface. In the ownership of a demon prince, someone different to himself, a king? Enmu would have to ruminate on it later.

“Ahhh-hhhh, m-man. And here-here I was h-hoping the big f-fella woulda-a taken pit-pity on me and g-give me a tune up-up.” Robo Fizz extended his arms, doing typical warm-up stretches but with the added goofiness of his gangly limbs drooping around from being so long. “Y-Ya think your do-douchebag of a king has a repairman-man in one of-f his cells-ells?”

“Who’s to say?” Enmu replied with a shrug. “With any luck, by the time we return, we’ll have a proper revolutionary who could do this job for me.”

“Awwww, but you’re doing such a good job so far!” Bogie complimented, flashing a thumbs up. However, this messed up her balance, and the unconscious Barry rolled off her shoulder, landing onto the ground with a sonorous clang. He did not wake, but his head did dislodge itself from his body and started rolling down the street. “Oops!”

“D-Don’t worry! I g-got it!” Robo Fizz proclaimed. However, when he went to retrieve the escaping helm, his oversized limbs got wrapped up in eachother, forming a pretzel-like shape that left him unable to do much of anything. “Uh. S-Someone help?”

Meme laughed. “Oh yeah. This team is TOTALLY ready for regicide.”

Enmu merely sighed. He would not appear weak and agree with her. He did, however, secretly wonder if his cohorts at Kamoshida’s keep were having any luck in his absence.

He’d be rather cross if they had up and escaped without him.

Lucky for the Lower Moon, that wasn’t the case. Through whatever infernal deal he had made with Corset, the longer Kamoshida remained in his keep, the more strength he was building up. That meant more of his own personal demonic force could be conjured to patrol the corridors of the castle, as well as the sprawling catacombs underneath. This meant more vigilant, distrusting eyes monitoring both the Violator and the Watcher along every pathway, every corner, and leaving very little wiggle room for either to scout out souls from the ledger-turned-candidate list. The influx of Kamoshida’s forces DID see to more and more successful captures of sinners lost in the winding hellish valleys that surrounded the fortress. Which meant more able bodies for the two traitors’ secret agenda.

The Watcher observed in real-time (whatever little that meant in a place where time didn’t have much meaning) as the ledger’s pages filled with new names, carefully keeping tabs whenever an exceptional soul’s misdeeds caught his eye, as well as any dripped in red ink. One or two or twelve would probably come in handy the longer this charade dragged on, so he took care to memorize those he thought were worth remembering should a golden opportunity arise.

He had taken quite a fancy to one such barbaric soul, a supersoldier locked deep in the bowels of the prison with impressive strength comparable or even greater than any hellbeast, when Kamoshida’s harsh snapping interrupted his reading: “You’re really obsessed with that thing, aren’t you?”

The demon refrained from narrowing any of his six eyes. It was not an easy feat, nor was feigning compliant servitude to this dullard. The man rarely ever left his throne, as if it were the source of his power. His meals and entertainment, what little of the latter that could be provided at this stage, was always brought to him. Kamoshida was, at the very least, acting the part of a king in that most basic regard.

“Your personal forces are bringing back more souls by the day. Certainly impressive, yet one mustn’t dally when dealing with inventory,” the Watcher replied, closing the ledger.

“They’re not grocery store items, idiot. They’re prisoners.” Kamoshida thought about it for a second. “Oh. Well. I guess they ARE gonna be food for the big Malbolge. Guess you had the right of it.”

“Your words are-”

“Shut up. Your ass kissing is starting to annoy me.”

The Watcher twitched. He may very well hate this man more than he ever hated War. And War had KILLED him. “Duly. Noted.”

Kamoshida rolled his head around, eyes lazily scanning the room in pursuit of something he already knew wasn’t there. “For all the furnishings and gold and everything, this place is still so dulllll. Who the hell wants to rule an empty castle with no subjects? That asshole Corset…” He glared at the Watcher. “Where’s your other half anyway? Didn’t think you could be so far away from each other because of that spell or whatever.”

So. He clearly doesn’t know, or care about, the specifics to the Watcher and the Violator’s dual bondage. Unsurprising really, but the demon kept a mental note of it. “The clown has been… hard at work looking for some potential subjects among those captured, ones who would pledge undying loyalty and be of some use to you, my king.”

“And he’s not using the book?”

“Ultimately, he decided to trust his gut. I believe his exact words were ‘I’ve got a keen eye for the really good sh*t-bags down here.’”

“Well, if I’d trust that guy with anything, it’d be knowing about his own bloated, oversized gut,” Kamoshida joked, snickering to himself.

Neither the Watcher nor the Berith soldier guards standing guard around them laughed.

“Ugh. This is why we need ACTUAL people in here,” Kamoshida growled, slamming a fist into the armrest of his throne. “A king needs- no, DESERVES a proper court!”

Again, he glared daggers at the Watcher. “And where the hell’s that little fruit that you set loose? Emma or whatever? You’re in for a world of hurt if he skipped town the moment you let him out.”

“My king, where would he go?” the Watcher replied, floating from one side to the other. His spindly fingers clutched at the fanciful chair, making Kamoshida inch as far away as he could while remaining seated, a grimace painting his face. “Hell is still Hell. Try as he may, try as he might, no matter which variant of this place he may venture to, there’s no way back to the land of the living. Or at the very least, not one that doesn’t require much strife and sacrifice. Even dead, a soul still has much they can lose. Besides, you said so yourself. You have a direct line to Malebolgia himself. One quick call would be all it would take to land Enmu in a pit of misery and pain unlike anything he could possibly imagine. And that would be… unideal, I’d wager, yes?”

The Watcher’s flowery verbiage wasn’t meant to be lies, just wordy enough to dissuade Kamoshida from doing anything rash. In truth, the Watcher was getting antsy for Enmu’s return himself. Realistically speaking, there really WAS nothing he could do should the Lower Moon decide to abandon them. The Watcher only had the other demon’s word to go by, putting trust in that he’d pull his weight as repayment from being released from his confinement. That sort of trust would have made him the laughingstock of every Ring imaginable, but it wasn’t like he had many options to work with.

Blind faith was for idiot mortals and the dimwits in Heaven, after all.

Whatever the case, his wordplay had the desired effect on the king, Kamoshida bitterly claiming, “It’s your head if you're wrong. We clear?”

“Transparently, my lord.”

The throne room doors opened up, a gleeful cackling as ratty boots squeaked across the tile flooring. “Hey, hey! What’s with all the long faces? Someone die up in here? Smells like someone did.”

“As usual, your attempt at humor is painfully unfunny, Clown.”

The Violator, still in his human disguise, placed a hand across his chest, faking hurt. “Oh, you wound me so. And here I thought we were finally bonding. Since we’re. You know. Bonded. Heh.”

The Watcher rolled his many eyes.

“First order of business, find us a better court jester,” Kamoshida snarled. “And this room was perfectly pleasant until you rolled your fat ass in.” He pinched his nose, scowling as the Phlebiac came closer.

“Oh, my most sincere apologies, your grace. Would it appease you if I were to shine your shoes? Mayhaps fetch you a spot of wine?” the Clown giggled.

“You’re quite jolly for someone trapped down here.” Kamoshida eyed him with suspicion. “It’s infuriating. What are you up to?”

“What? Little ol’ me?” He flashed a cheeky, sh*t-eating grin. “Don’t you trust your friendly neighborhood Violator?”

“OUT WITH IT!”

“So testy, sheeeeeesh!” The Clown thumbed his nose, sniffed. Adjusted his trousers. “Well. For your information, while you were bumming around waiting for our little yokai friend to come back home, I took the liberty of doing some one-on-one interviews with a few of the castle’s inmates. Turns out there’s a good couple that are just DYING to get to know their king better. Just finished setting up a little presentation panel in your honor.”

“You released confined sinners, told them everything about me, and then expect me, ME, to just waltz into a room with all of them in it?” Kamoshida spat. “Trying to get the jump on ME? Do you take me for an idiot?”

The Berith guards around them each rose to attention, brandishing their golden tridents as their helmeted gazes all focused on the Clown.

“Pinky! I’m hurt! C’mon, bucko! The second I’d try something, I know you’d be bringing the wrath of old M-Bolg down on me, and trust me. I KNOW what that’s like. I’m not really up for feeling it again anytime soon.”

“I still don’t trust you.”

“It ain’t like we did it without supervision. You’ve got goons walking up and down the joint like it’s Alcatraz.”

“Not a particularly far off description…” the Watcher muttered.

The Clown shrugged. “Aw well. We had live entertainment worthy of a king all set up for ya, but if you ain’t interested…”

“I’m not,” Kamoshida affirmed.

“Suit yourself.” The Phlebiac did an about face, slowly padding back out the throne room. “A real shame. One of them’s a smokin’ hot blonde.”

“Bullsh*t.”

The Clown held out a hand. “HE’S got the ledger. Look her up yourself. Last name’s Ward.”

The Watcher didn’t appreciate being out of the loop of whatever inane scheme his fellow demon had concocted. He could, however, discern the truth from the Clown’s words. The Watcher flipped open the ledger, filing through its many pages, scanning through name after name until his eyes fell upon the one the Clown had mentioned. A quick skim of her misdeeds up above was enough for him to know this was the one his cohort was talking about.

Similar to how he selected Enmu, the Watcher ran a gnarled finger across the sinner in question’s name. In response, a bright light lifted right from the page, swirling around the floating demon he flicked it over towards Kamoshida. He recoiled in his throne, hand raised to smack the wisp away until it took the faded visage of a woman, short-haired with a playful smirk. The image winked at him before compressing into a orb, bouncing across the throne room floor and exiting entirely, leaving a trail of light in its wake.

Kamoshida did not hide his intrigue well, making an audibly hard gulp and brandishing a new look in his eye, that of a fiendish predator willing to forego caution in the hopes of satiating his personal desires. “I’ll gut you if you’re lying, Clown,” he threatened, though he was already sauntering out the chamber. The procession of knightly demon guards followed in his wake, with the Phlebiac stepping out into the corridor to give the king and his soldiers the necessary berth as they marched along.

The Watcher flew over to his bonded partner, brow narrowing in triplicate. “What, exactly, do you think you’re doing?”

“Ehh?” The Clown stuck a bulbous ring finger into his ear, picking out something festering and yellow before flicking it casually across the hall. “I’m just doing my own thing. I told you I would be.”

“You are jeopardizing the plan!”

“No, just advancing it in my own, special way, bright eyes.”

“I will curse you from the very bowels of the greater beyond if you screw this up for-!”

But his rotund partner was already sauntering down the hall, large, grubby hands jammed into his wrinkled pant pockets. “Yeah, yeah, right, right, whatever. Just shut up and come watch the show, you prude.”

The Watcher now remembered why he chose the Charred Council from all the other ruling parties across the various Hells.

Because everyone in Malebolgia’s regiment were a bunch of assholes.

Regardless of his feelings on the matter, he followed – were the Clown to be slain for his misconduct, he at least had better be there to see it right before he was snuffed out afterwards.

The book’s wayfinder light led Kamoshida’s assemblage through most of the length of the upper floor of the castle, arriving at a chamber at its farthest most end. It still retained much of the same decor as the rest of the palace, though one whole wall seemed to have been replaced with massive floor-to-ceiling windows that gave a expansive view of the domain Kamoshida’s Palace resided in. A wasteland pockmarked by chasms with faraway realms smoking in the distance wouldn’t normally make for Kodak moment, but the neighboring mountain sporting a lava fall did attract some attention, mostly because it was the most colorful thing on display outside.

Inside, however, was a different story. A sizable square something sat in the middle of the room, hidden by a black velvet tarp with two individuals standing before it. The taller of the two – far too tall to be your average imp - very easily fit the more traditional clientele one would expect to be residing in Hell. Donned in thick black robes with twin tubes snaking out from the hood’s neckline. Pale hands, with crooked, elongated fingers and even longer fingernails, were steepled expectedly, clearly anticipating an audience. Two unblinking eyes stared out from a vertical bone white mask.

It would have been a chilling sight for Kamoshida to behold… if his attention wasn’t totally stolen by the other member of the duo.

She was the spitting image of the wisp conjured by the ledger: an attractive young woman, with short blonde hair with pink dyed tips. She wore black, short-sleeved blazer with matching miniskirt and thigh high boots, a red tie complimented by a pair of equally red gloves. A small little cap topped on her head completed the look.

Kamoshida was so lost in her emerald eyes that he almost didn’t hear her when she acknowledged him. “Oh my! YOU must be the head honcho around here. Mister King Kamoshida, what a delight to finally meet you!”

“W-Well. Finally. Someone recognizes proper authority around here.” Kamoshida puffed out his chest. “But you’ve got me at a bit of a disadvantage. You are…?”

The woman’s boots clacked along the tile flooring as she walked up to the pink-skinned despot, flashing a smile and a wink. “Catherine Ward, at your service, my lord! But please, by all means, call me Cathy!”

A spunky, upbeat blonde. Kamoshida liked those. He liked those a lot.

“What’s a pretty little thing like you doing down here, Cathy?” Kamoshida asked, yellow eyes looking the woman up and down.

“Oh, a dreadful tale!” Cathy placed the back of a hand over her forehead. “I was but your humble prison warden, looking after terrible sinners and… reeducating the ones who acted up. My methods weren’t too well liked in the state prison I worked at, but one particular eccentric decided to pay me quite a hefty sum to indulge in a unique little experiment of his. I became one of his angels to toy with a little brat and her psychotic bodyguard. I was supposed to break them.” Her smile faltered then, eye twitching. “But they managed to get past all my devious little tricks and traps and got the better of me.”

Out of earshot (as if it really mattered, given where Kamoshida’s attention was), the Clown crooked a finger for the Watcher to lower himself. “That’s just the Cliffnotes version. It’s even juicier in full.”

The Watcher nodded at that - Ward’s name HAD been written in crimson, after all.

“Kids. Horrible little sh*ts, all of ‘em. Used to be a volleyball coach at a high school, but they didn’t appreciate my, ah, Olympian methods of practice, you could say.” He accentuated this with a flex of his chest again.

“Ah, more’s the pity. They clearly didn’t deserve a modern-day Adonis such as yourself.” Cathy managed to close the distance between herself and the king, drawing a few circles through the regal cape hanging from Kamoshida’s shoulder.

The only one in the room who didn’t notice Kamoshida grinning like an idiot was Kamoshida himself. This Cathy absolutely blew that bratty heel Ann out of the water, of that he was sure of. Plenty of not-so-savory thoughts were beginning to swim around in his head… only for a passing glance to ruin it all, as Kamoshida’s gaze met that of the figure in black, the thing’s eyes still trained on him.

“Aw Christ, what the hell-!” He jerked back on instinct, throwing up his arms in alarm. Cathy hopped away a step to avoid being smacked herself. No one saw the amused smirk that flashed across her face at the king’s surprise. “Do you MIND, ugly? Having a bit of a private conversation with the lady here.”

“You are speaking at a volume that dictates it is anything but private,” the thing responded, a low, calculative timbre to its tone. “It” was clearly male.

“Oh? We got a tough guy here, huh?” Kamoshida snarled. He whipped about, glowering at the Clown and jabbing a finger at the robed figure. “You did good with Cathy, but you f*cked up inviting the freakshow.”

“Hey now, we’re all freakshows down here. Comes with the territory.” The Clown ambled his way in between the king and the other, the Watcher floating idly by. The Phlebiac jabbed a thumb over his shoulder. “He’s not here for voyeuristic pleasure - don’t think he has that sort of kink on him. Not judging if you do.”

The thing made no reply, but it was clear he was unamused.

“Guess not. Well, either way. Our dark beanstalk of a friend wasn’t let out just for his good looks. He’s got just as much experience as Cathy does in corralling folks. If not more so.”

“And I should care, because…?” Kamoshida snapped.

The robed figure cleared his throat. “The fat one has explained your situation to me-”

“Oy.”

“-and I believe that my skills will be of some use to you. I once held prominent status as the head manager of the Grace Field Farm, overseeing the production and shipment of some of the finest minds across our world.”

“What… does that even mean?” Kamoshida asked.

Cathy sidled up close to the king again. “I had a bit of a chat with our ogling friend here. His was a split world, one of humans and another of his kind. Demons, of a sort.”

The demon’s eyes slanted. “That was a term that the humans of that world put upon us. My race never accepted such a crude distinction.”

Cathy pursed her lips, her bubbly personality souring. “Buddy, you’ve got monster eyes, big claws, horns, and are freaky tall. You’re a demon.”

He snorted. “If it makes you lesser things understand our history better…”

“You’re earning strikes left and right here, pal,” Kamoshida snapped. “I don’t care if tubby let you out-”

“What’s with all the fat shaming here?” said the Clown in disbelief, holding out his hands like it was some bad joke.

“It’s your fault for choosing that form,” the Watcher noted.

“Gee, thanks for the input.”

“SHUT UP!” Kamoshida bellowed. His guards rapped their spears along the ground, a loud thumping reverberating across the room. Kamoshida stomped up towards the robed demon. There wasn’t as much a size difference as one might expect, the king’s athletic build able to match with the demon’s even if the latter was still, in the end, taller. “You’ve got two short paragraphs to explain your usefulness and why I shouldn't haul your fugly ass back into the pit you came from.”

The demon eyed Kamoshida with what was clearly disgust. Not even his mask could hide that much. “Grace Field was one of four premium farms, meant to cultivate the minds of the children kept there until they were ripe. Once properly mature, they were sent exclusively to high ranking officials and royalty of our race.”

Kamoshida didn’t like the tone the thing was taking with him, even less the implications of his words. “So… your kind ate kids?”

“Technically humans of any age range,” the demon clarified. He took a wretched finger and pointed at his own head. “Brains, in particular, were more than just a delicacy. It was the brains of humans that allowed our species to gain sentience, gain culture, and thrive. More than that, they were necessary. Should we not have our required fill, the chances of reverting to a primordial, animalistic state grew exponentially.”

“That’s all kinds of f*cked up,” the king scoffed. “Human farms. What the hell… what are the kids, stupid? No way they’d study under your delightful watch.”

“They were unaware of their surroundings, and we had proxies. Human nannies that… took care of them.” A change in pitch, ever so slight but clearly present, clearly agitated, came from the pause in his explanation. As if something about the concept annoyed him. Personally. Whatever the case may be, he shook it off just as quickly. “The history of the facilities does not matter now. What does is my ability to notice potential. You seek especially potent, wicked souls of the damned? I can root them out for you.”

The king was not especially convinced. “Wasn’t that supposed to be YOUR job, Clown? Did you REALLY just force your duties upon an already doomed sinner?”

“Ayyyy, king baby, come on! Ain’t it just typical of upper management to make the interns do the dirty work for them?” the Clown replied jovially.

“That doesn’t work because YOU’RE not upper management! You’re BARELY management!”

A hand drifted across Kamoshida’s cheek, followed by a little tug on his cape. Cathy was so close to him, eyes gleaming like gemstones. “Oh, my poor king. Surrounded by so many incompetent stiffs. They told me all about your sh*tty situation, needing to collect all the souls for an unappreciative boss. You shouldn’t be burdened with such unnecessary grunt work.”

“Y-You’re telling me, babe,” Kamoshida sputtered, feeling his cheeks redden.

“You can leave Mr. Doom and Gloom to me, us two wardens can handle categorizing all of these wicked sinners.”

The demon scratched at the bottom of his mask, in lieu of a chin. “You know… names were not so easily bestowed in our society. The rabble who lived outside of the main colonies may have claimed some to emulate humans, and so too did the royalty and the especially wealthy. A name garnered power… status… a sense of being.”

“Yeah, yeah, okay, shut up,” said Kamoshida absentmindedly. “You’re ruining the moment.”

The demon’s hands shook with rage, a shaking that would have traveled up the entirety of his body had the Watcher not intervened, flying over to whisper into his fellow monster’s ear. “As one without much of a proper name myself, I sympathize with your plight. It’s nice to be addressed as someONE, rather than just ‘it’ or ‘someTHING.’”

“I do not require your pity,” the demon spat.

“All the same, I’d say you require a moniker. Even something as simple as a title would suffice. Wouldn’t you agree?”

The demon did, but was too proud to admit to such. His life in the caste system of his home world was not especially grand, even though his work had been important (at least, he believed it so). Even those frivolous nobles that wasted time hunting humans for fun, wasting valuable resources that could be better utilized to keep their race from devolving into savage, brainless animals, had names.What he wouldn’t have given to wring the necks of that louse Luce or those two psychopathic siblings, hadn’t those humans they had hunted rose up and run them all through.

Perhaps they had wound up down here, just like he did. What a coup it would be, he imagined, were he to stroll by through their very cells, for them to look up and see HIM on the other side of the bars.

Him. The-

“Warden,” he finally muttered. “That shall be my name. It’s simple but clear to all what my role is.”

The Watcher nodded along. “I agree.”

“Well. This wasn’t… a complete waste of time, I guess,” Kamoshida announced. “At the very least, my court has at least one competent new member.”

Cathy chuckled at that.

“But I was promised entertainment, Clown. Where is it?”

“Oh, keep your crown on,” the rotund demon replied, sniffing. “I promised you something neat, didn’t I? All courtesy of our new pals.”

He looked from Cathy to the newly named Warden, both of them nodding along. With a gnarled hand, the taller demon took a handful of the dark covering that had gone unacknowledged for the length of their introduction and pulled. What it revealed surprised even the Watcher: a glass box, in the center of which was a small table with some sort of children’s game, as well as three sinners bound and gagged. It was a wonder they hadn’t heard them struggling, but the glass must have been soundproofed, the Watcher guessed.

One was a thirty-something man with a mustache, no other especially defining features standing out aside from the wild fear in his eyes; the second a well-built blonde man in camo, aviator glasses hiding his eyes but not the scar that ran under his left eye; a third was ostentatiously dressed by comparison: a woman with silver hair in fanciful purples and golds, ornaments on matching chains dotted with sky blue gems dangled from a bulbous hat. She had a similar air to her as Cathy, which may be why she was staring directly - and murderously - at the lady warden.

“Well, well. What do we have here?” Kamoshida arched a brow.

“Remember all those traps I mentioned before? Watching over such nasty lawbreakers just wasn’t enough for me. I wanted to get creative when dealing with troublemakers,” Cathy explained. “Just a little amusem*nt for myself to watch them wriggle and writhe, hoping to see just how badly they’d fight for salvation.”

“That’s hot,” Kamoshida chuckled.

“I’d think it more of a waste of precious resources,” the Warden began. “These three, however, we’ve deemed as… unnecessary.”

“Thanks, but no one asked for your opinion, fugly.”

The Warden kept silent, knowing Kamoshida would never believe him were he to reveal it was Cathy who personally selected these three. He did, however, mentally add another five different ways to ways he would like to see the king dead. A steadily growing list that had begun the moment the two were introduced.

“Reminds ya of those Saw flicks, don’tcha think?” the Clown gave a nasally laugh.

“Of course you would enjoy such gore-riddled drivel,” the Watcher grumbled.

Cathy pulled out a riding crop (from where, no one was sure) which was adorned by a myriad of miniscule buttons on its hilt, making it more remote control than weapon – though, what IS a crop if not a controller for cattle? Either way, she pressed a few switches. The cuffs that bound the three prisoners within the glass box came undone as she spoke into the device. “How are you, my wicked little sinners? You’re on speaker now, and in front of royalty no less! So give a warm welcome to our king, Lord Kamoshida!”

As expected, no one applauded. Rather, the man in camo slammed his shoulder into the glass. “Get me the f*ck out of here, you pieces of sh*t!”

“W-What is this…?” the other man, face practically drained of all color, asked pitifully. “What the hell do you want from us?”

“To torture us, presumably,” the lone woman in the glass cell spat. “It’s what I’d do, were I in that bitch’s shoes.”

“Oh, naughty, naughty!” Cathy tutted, wagging a finger. “That’s no way to speak to the person who has your life literally hanging in the balance. Or did you all not notice where you were standing?”

They looked down at their feet, each blanching in realization. Each stood upon a large red X, slightly discolored glass and slits in the ground delineating them as trapdoors.

“Oh this is bullsh*t!” the army man snapped. “You playing games with us?”

“More like you’re playing games between yourselves,” Cathy chuckled. She pointed her crop towards the small table between each of the sinners. “You’re all awful people, but I’m not so cruel as to not give you all a fighting chance to redeem yourselves, if however slight.”

“Hmm… that thought rings a bell…” the Watcher scratched at his head. “Was it not Lucifer’s spawn who-”

“Shhhhh, no talking during the performance,” the Clown shushed. “Also, don’t mention that name. You’re gonna ruin my mood.”

“Lucifer?”

“No. The other one.”

“I didn’t say another…” Once he realized his bonded partner was ignoring him, he made a nonverbal grunt, and drifted over towards the Warden. He seemed like far more agreeable company.

“Before I start giving out the details of today’s game, let me introduce our three contestants who will be playing today!” Cathy started on the left with the normal looking man. “First up is Dan! Full name Daniel Alastair Jones! He isn’t anything too bad – unless you count all the abuse he flung his girlfriend’s way. Tried to lord over her like she was just a thing to be owned. Bad boy!”

“N-Now hold on,” Dan stammered. “I… I know I probably- DEFINITELY know I took things too far. B-But Sarah… she gave me no choice! She just HAD to go back to that psycho of a friend of hers!”

“Who you shot and almost killed.”

“It… it wasn’t supposed to happen that way. I just wanted to talk-”

“Sure you did, hot stuff.” Cathy interrupted. “But you got yours, didn’t you? That… thing got to you. What was it you said? It wore you like a human meat suit?”

Dan seized up. It wasn’t just fear in his eyes at the mention of his grisly passing. True, unadulterated terror lay in his pupils. “T-That thing… oh God…” He hid his face in his hands. “Please… don’t make me remember…”

“A thing?” the Watcher repeated aloud. “Taken over by a demonic force?”

“Heh. Worse,” the Clown snickered. “Little cosmic parasite named Akrasiel.”

The Watcher flinched. “What did you say? Akrasiel? No… no that’s not… it shouldn’t be-!”

“Calm your jets, old-timer. He’s been atomized.”

“That’s equally as distressing! Akrasiel is one of the children of the Old-!”

“ZIP IT! No more TALKING!” Kamoshida commanded. “First good bit of fun I’ve had since I started running this joint and all your gabbing is f*cking it up! Next person who speaks out of turn is getting put in the glass box next!”

They got them to shut up. The Watcher shot the Clown a look that most assuredly translated to “We’re talking about this later.” The Clown’s response was to do the one-fingered salute.

“Anyway, moving along from the severely punished Dan-” Cathy began.

Dan had broken down into simpering, choking sobs. So much for all that testosterone fueled, masculine pride he had built up over three decades plus worth of life.

“-next we have Captain John Davidson. High ranking member of the mercenary group Extra Order.”

The captain pounded a fist against the glass. “Not a single person alive should know my real name.”

“Think about what you just said for a moment, dear captain.”

“f*ck you.”

“You were quite the cruel one on the battlefield, weren’t you, captain? Lots of people’s blood on your hands. Probably not remorseful about that at all, are you? What did Liberia ever do to you, anyway?”

“It’s called ‘war’ and ‘getting paid.’ Shouldn’t have to explain myself to a bimbo like you.”

Cathy’s eye twitched. “A-Aha. Well, I’m not the one who got head over heels and got blown sky high by a bunch of ragtag pirates off the coast of Roanapur, did I? Pretty pathetic for someone toting such a high kill count, hm?”

“You stupid f*ckING-”

Cathy pressed a button on her control prod. Davidson’s screaming was rendered mute, a comical mime barking wordlessly as spittle flew at the glass. This lasted for about eight straight minutes until the mercenary was huffing and puffing for breath. He eventually stopped to take in gulps of air, totally winded from what was assuredly very pleasant things to say about Cathy.

“Feh. Dogs of war, amirite?” Kamoshida chuckled.

Once the volume was turned back on, Cathy continued. “And lastly, that lady over there is Koukaku.”

Then silence.

“Well?” said Koukaku, turning a flippant hand. “Where’s MY backstory explained?”

“I don’t like you very much. So. I don’t want to tell it.”

Koukaku’s expression soured. “Bitch.”

“Come now, no need for two beautiful women to fight, especially not in front of the king,” Kamoshida chortled. “This may be the last day of her unlife, Cathy. Might as well give her some sort of eulogy, even if it’s just saying who she was.”

Cathy considered it for a moment. “If that’s what your highness wishes, who am I to deny it? She was an esteemed commander and warrior of the Koran army. They fought for supremacy in some alternate earth. There might have been a dragon involved.” She shrugged. “Honestly, it sounded like some bad role-playing game.”

“Don’t trivialize my people’s struggles and liken them to tabletop chicanery!” Koukaku snapped.

“You were literally the invading party. A totalitarian and very hated one, at that. Don’t try to feign innocence, dearie.”

“Why don’t you let me out of this cage and we have ourselves a REAL fight, you cowardly witch. Get me my leg enhancers, see where all your big talk goes then!”

“Mmmmmm, no. I don’t think so.”

“Alright, introductions are all through. Get with the game already!” Kamoshida urged. The Clown, the Watcher, and the Warden all kept silent, as per their “king’s” orders, but really, they were all hoping for the same.

“As you command!” Cathy laughed before addressing the three sinners. “Unless your eyesight has failed you since dying, you should be able to see the board in front of you.” The game in question appeared to be some strange variation of whack-a-mole. Little plastic imps jutted out of dirt mounds along with three colorful plastic hammers and a single six-sided die. “It’s simple, really! There are twenty-five dirty, nasty imps trying to crawl up out of Hell! And all you have to do is mash them back down to where they belong. Easy, right?”

“Probably shouldn’t try releasing this game commercially,” the Watcher whispered. “Some down here might say that it’s racially insensitive.”

“I warned her not to specifically use imps,” the Warden whispered. “But do you think she listened to me?”

“A lot of that going around…”

They both glared at the collective that was the Clown, Cathy, and Kamoshida. None of them were paying any attention to the two muttering demons.

“Buuuuuuut here’s the catch!” Cathy announced. “A few of the nasty critters are volatile. Smack the wrong one, and it’ll pop right out and escape! And that’s no good, which means punishment for you!”

“A-And punishment means…?” Dan gulped.

Koukaku tapped her foot on her X. “Death, clearly.”

“Bingo!” Cathy smiled.

“So it’s literally just a game of chance?” Davidson sneered. “What the f*ck!”

“You should be honored! At least one of you will survive this harrowing ordeal and get to survive another day down here.” Cathy turned around. “If his majesty deems it so.”

Kamoshida laughed. “The pretty lady’s got the right of it!” He snapped his fingers, and one of the Beriths dropped its weapon and got onto its hands and knees for its master. Kamoshida sat upon the soulless knight, a makeshift throne just for him. “If luck is on your side, then you’ll survive. I’ll even give the winner a slightly nicer cell, maybe some leftovers from one of my meals.”

“Ohhh, see? How generous of our lord!” Cathy clapped. “So. Get to playing!”

There wasn’t much of a point to the three putting it off. They literally had nowhere to go. Dan, Davidson, and Koukaku barely looked at one another as they approached the board, each scooping up a toy hammer.

“I guess we should roll to see who goes first,” Dan said, going for the die.

“Ah f*ck that. I’M going first,” Davidson snapped.

“Guess chivalry’s dead, then,” Koukaku muttered. “...just like the rest of us, I guess.”

“I ain’t dying with YOU two losers!” With the ferocity of a war-profiteering madman, Davison slammed his hammer down upon one of the twenty-five plastic imps. There was a dinging sound, delineating that he chose correctly and was safe. For now.

He smirked a greasy, canine-filled smile before looking over to Dan. “Your turn, puss*.”

“Now that’s just. Ugh. Whatever.” Dan studied the board for a moment, as if there was any possible better choice in a game of random chance. He struck one of the corner imps. Another ding. He was safe.

A relieved sigh slipped through gritted teeth. “Your turn,” he said to Koukaku.

“No kidding.” She was neither aggressive like Davidson, nor meek like Dan. She took a few seconds to think over her decision, and followed through. Ding.

And so the game continued. More imps were pushed into the ground, one by one. At a glance, it didn’t seem so harrowing, but the longer it went on, the more tension began to creep into the chamber. At least, for the three sinners forced to play. Kamoshida was having a ball, on the edge of his knight-turned-seat. Cathy watched on, a buttery sweet smile laced with sad*stic pleasure at her victims’ fear; this was clearly old hat for her. The Clown’s only downside to the whole thing was the lack of proper snacks. A sentiment the Watcher and the Warden did not share, too intrigued by the rising pressure coming from the players.

Dan had devolved into a sweating mess, his forehead glistening and shirt drenched. He hit another imp… and was safe. “Christ…”

“Heh. Don’t think he’s helping you down here,” Davidson mocked. He was putting on a cool act, but was internally grateful that in death he was allowed to keep his shades. The board was getting scarce, and his eyes would have betrayed his worry.

“F-f*ck you man.”

“Take pity on him, war dog,” Koukaku scolded. “We’re all in the same situation. We might as well-”

“f*ck that. If you think this game of chance makes us equal, you’re dead wrong,” Davidson snaps. “I don’t want to hear it from an uppity broad like you.”

Kouhaku’s eyes slanted. She didn’t say anything else – clearly words were wasted on him Fine. She’d spare nothing more for him, and simply hit her next target.

Ding.

“f*cking finally.” Davidson slammed his hammer down.

BZZ-BZZZTTT.

The buzzer was the last sound Davidson heard, aside from his own confused rebuttal of “What the f-” before the trapdoor underneath his feet opened up, swallowing him up whole. Dan and Koukaku both recoiled, their backs slamming up against the glass walls.

“Uh oh! There goes sinner number one!” Cathy announced in a sing-song tone. “But wherever did he go? Well, if the audience would kindly look outside…”

She flicked her crop in the direction where everyone’s attention should go. The lava falls burned bright and hot, still the only worthwhile thing to see across the hellish vista. That is, until the site of Davidson’s body suddenly appeared, launched into view as a muffled boom came from underneath them. His screams echoed as he flew across the valley and into the fiery cascade, his form lost to the smoldering reds and oranges.

Kamoshida applauded loudly, kicking his legs out like a toddler. “Ha, ha! Nice! Now THAT’S what I’m talking about!”

“How… did you manage to construct such a contraption?” the Watcher whispered to the Warden, now realizing he hadn’t asked about the entire glass ensemble to begin with.

The Warden pointed a crooked figure at the Clown, who was guffawing right beside the king. “He… has his ways.”

“News to me…”

“O…Oh god…” Dan muttered, seemingly on the verge of tears. His frightened, wide eyes fell on Cathy. “P-Please… I-I’ve suffered enough! Can’t you just-?”

Cathy put her arms in the shape of an X. “Sorry! Not how the game works. But hey, it’s just down to two now! Just have to hope that granny here makes the wrong choice, and then you’re home free… figuratively!”

“I look the EXACT same age as you, you cow!” Koukaku snapped.

“Alrighty then, final two contestants!” Cathy said, clearly ignoring Koukaku. “It’s sudden death time! Who will fate smile upon today?”

They found their anticlimactic answer within four turns, as Dan nervously smacked an imp, and the same buzzer sounded off. Dan’s feeble cries were a delight to the audience, sadly cut short as he too plunged into the flaming river.

Cathy shrugged. “Well. Not exactly the ending I was hoping for, but-”

“Bitch!” Koukaku hissed.

“-let’s give it up for our remaining sinner! Guess that’s another day of unlife for you. How… lucky.”

“I swear, the moment I’m freed from here, I’m going to tear you apa-!”

Koukaku’s threat went ignored as Cathy pressed a few buttons on her controller. The die that went untouched the entire game exploded into an uncolored mist, completely filling up the glass box. Koukaku’s coughs slowly went silent as she went limp, collapsing unceremoniously onto the floor.

This time, Kamoshida gave a standing ovation. “Bravo, bravo! Finally! Someone who knows how to have a little fun around here.”

Cathy curtsied. “You’re too kind, your majesty.”

“Please, for you, Cathy, Suguru works just fine.” He stretched some, letting out some breaths. “Hooo aaahh… all that fun made me hungry again. Won’t you join me for a meal, Cathy? Let the rest of these yahoos clean up the mess.”

That earned him a number of scowls, none of which he cared to acknowledge.

“Oh, I’d be delighted and honored,” Cathy replied, clapping her hands together. “Buuuuttt… I AM a bit partial to my toys. I want to make sure they aren’t ruined if they should be mishandled by monstrous care. They’re delicate things, you understand, right?”

The slight weakening of Kamoshida’s overjoyed smile was enough to showcase how he really felt, but he managed to keep up the act. “I… suppose that’s fine. Only for you though. Guess it’ll give the cooks some time to make something good. Join me later in the throne room when you’re all finished.” He instantly scowled and gave a sweeping gesture towards the demonic trio. “You follow Catherine’s orders as though they were mine. Understand?”

“No prob!” The Clown responded.

“Of… course,” the Watcher muttered.

The Warden gave the slightest possible nod he could muster.

“Good,” Kamoshida sneered. “f*cking freaks…”

He and his entourage of knights left, then, marching right out of the chamber to leave the quartet and the fallen “winner” of Cathy’s game. Five seconds after the door shut behind the knightly entourage, Cathy’s entire demeanor dropped, her sugary smile completely flipped, now a scowl of irate revulsion. She was quick to stomp over to the Clown, slamming a boot hard onto his foot.

He yelped comically, bouncing around and holding the damaged foot like a cartoon character. This would have made the Watcher laugh out loud, by far the funniest thing that he’d seen since being free – if only his bonded partner’s pain hadn’t transferred to him as well.

“What the f*ck was THAT for?” the Clown snapped.

“You know EXACTLY what that’s for,” Cathy replied, just as venomously. “You said he was a prude, not a total f*cking loser! I could feel his eyes on me the ENTIRE time!” She shivered.

“Well, can you blame the guy?”

Cathy slammed her foot down on the Phlebiac’s other foot. Again, he howled, this time flopping over like a fish out of water.

“Could we please stop this?” the Watcher winced. He didn’t have feet to experience the exact same agony of his fellow demon, so his suffering was centralized around his abdomen. And it wasn’t pleasant. “As much as the buffoon deserves it, it’s affecting me as well. And I can’t explain the parts of our plan he left out if I’m in pain.”

Cathy sniffed. “Fine. I got it out of my system anyway.” She folded her arms over her chest. “I got the gist of the scheme anyway. Trick the idiot into letting his guard down, scout out other souls down here until we have enough to revolt, and then…” She paused. “I guess the actual escape portion of the plan is in development, but I assume that’s the ultimate end goal.”

“And you’re… not against it? Working with sinners?”

“Oh, all that back there? I might be theatrical, but I’m not totally blinded by the bullsh*t that I’m selling. I did horrible things to condemned men under the pretense of justice, and I LOVED it. Every single solitary second of it. I sinned just as much as the people I tortured and antagonized. Besides.”

She flicked her crop towards the Warden. “You paired me up with this guy. And he eats babies.”

“That is a significant underrepresentation of my people and our customs,” he replied, vertical eyes narrowing.

“You didn’t say I was wrong, though.”

The Warden grumbled something too low to be heard behind his mask.

“I suppose you have no objections to the plan, my friend?” the Watcher asked, an attempt to ease the robed figure. Despite his ghoulish tendencies, he appreciated the Warden’s placid demeanor and cadence.

Clearly, he must have understood this, as he nodded back at the demon. “I understand its intricacies well enough. I can’t say I’m not curious about what other beings reside within these halls of the damned. It just feels… right, you could say, to be in this kind of role again.”

“Yay for introductions.” The Clown managed to throw himself into a sitting position, keeping his feet tucked in under his bulbous stomach so as to not receive a third brutal stomping from Cathy. “Woopie, we’re all “friends” now.” He said this while making air quotes with his fingers. “And the show seemed good enough to fool King Dipsh*t, so there’s that too.”

“I aim to please,” Cathy replied smugly.

“Yeah, yeah.” The Phlebiac looked over to the unconscious Koukaku. “What about her? Gonna launch her into the drink too?”

“Despite my desire to, I’d rather not.” Cathy was cross. “Kamoshida probably wants her just as much as he wants me. Maybe I can avoid his bedchamber altogether if she’s around, so give her that fancier cell. Or whatever. I have… dinner to attend. And you-” she pointed to the Watcher. “Are coming with me.”

“And that is because?” the demon asked.

“Because I don’t want to be alone with that pink sicko, I’m still mad at HIM, and HE freaks me out.”

The Watcher looked between the Clown and the Warden. “That’s fair, I suppose.”

“Oh, bite me, you floating sack of sh*t,” the Clown hissed.

“Don’t forget, I am OWED an explanation regarding Akrasiel.” The Watcher turned to the Warden, holding out the ledger. “I figure you will use this to its fullest?”

The Warden eyed the infernal register for a moment before using his spindly fingers to pluck it from the other demon’s grasp. He flipped through it some, a hint of delight in his eyes. “I assure you, I will.”

His horrible nail was already beginning to trail down the names, jabbing little marks into the parchment next to names penned in crimson. This would be far more interesting a roster than some classroom of snot-nosed brats used for upper-crust dinner parties, he could tell. Just how many wretched souls could he acquire in this place, he wondered.

And, more importantly, how many would he be able to keep for himself?

The Warden was salivating already.

While walking along the cobblestone streets of Halloween Town, Sucy came to an odd realization about this world. For as frightening as the decor was and for as determined as the townsfolk were in wanting to scare the living daylights out of people, the place was actually, to her surprise, rather calm. Sure, the architecture of the buildings was sporadic, haphazard some construction companies may say, what with all the strange angles and odd shapes, and it was still populated by ghosts, goblins, skeletons and every other monster that went bump in the night, but the fact that most of them greeted her and Crona with a smile made the young witch think this place wasn’t as truly petrifying as everyone let on.

“Still,” she said to Crona. “I could see myself retiring to a place like this. Maybe specifically THIS place.”

“You definitely do seem to fit in well,” the meister replied. “Those witch sisters from before took quite a liking to you.”

“If only they’d let me have a word in edgewise. Couldn’t talk much about myself through all that cackling.”

“I’m just glad they’re all so welcoming, even to off world visitors like us.”

“Welcoming? I think the word you’re looking for is annoying,” Ragnarok grumbled. The demon weapon wasn’t in a physical form, having grown tired of all the pleasantries from the Halloween Town citizens and was speaking from within his meister. “What’s up with them? I thought they’d be all killer clowns and vicious cannibals, not “Hi, can I borrow a cup of sugar” types. LAME!”

Crona was tempted to slap their stomach, where Ragnarok’s voice was radiating from, but they knew it’d be more trouble than it was worth. “Oh, can’t you just be positive for once?”

“NEVER!” A little cackle. “But I suppose I could change my tune if you were to go get me some chocolate.”

Crona sighed. “It’s always give and take with you, isn’t it?”

“C’mon, bud. I’m LITERALLY a part of you. You should know how this relationship works by now.”

Sucy held a finger to her chin. “You know, I can’t think of the last time I had anything to eat. Maybe some lunch is what we need.” She then looked up into the night time sky, seeing the full moon bathing the entire town in its glow. “Or a midnight snack, I guess.”

Crona held up a small coin pouch that jingled in their hand. It was black with orange spots, spider silk thread tied shut around its opening. “Jack did give us some spending money, said to get familiar with the town while he, Sally, and Spawn look for a place for us to rest while we’re here.”

“You know, normally I wouldn’t complain about getting free cash. But I think we should have some say in where we’re going to be living. We’re a small team, but we’re still A team. I’m worried Spawn will keep treating us like kids forever.”

“Did you actually WANT to go house hunting? Stand around while Jack and Spawn haggle with some vampire or ghoul over whether or not we could have their house?”

Sucy hadn’t considered that. “Maybe. It’d be funny to watch Spawn get annoyed.”

“I think he’s always annoyed at something.”

“I know, right?”

The two shared a laugh (Ragnarok groaned at their revelry, but with the chance of getting some delectable treat in his sights, he held his tongue). The town was built in a way where all the roads seemed to lead back to the town square, the centerpiece fountain continuously flowing with icky green bile. Sucy and Crona had already taken a look at certain landmarks of the town, such as the town hall, the outside of one famed mad scientist’s laboratory, and the pathway that led to the fabled pumpkin patch, supposedly Jack’s main domain.

On returning to the courtyard, they found a few tables and stands had been quickly set up, with a number of townsfolk gathered around, chatting and laughing with one another. The quartet of vampires all chuckled among themselves, each holding a pint of viscous red in their claws. The Harlequin Demon was arguing with the Wolf Man through bites of a burger with meat that clearly wasn’t cow, something about being able to scare more kids than the werewolf ever could. The large Behemoth, who usually had an axe lodged in his forehead, was using the tool to cut chunks of what looked like a giant piece of licorice, and was handing it over to the Cyclops to package up to ship to parts unknown.

“Wow, this is quite the bustling place,” Sucy observed, peeking around at the stalls. “As if every day was the witch market.”

Crona nodded – it was hard for them not to think of home, either. All of the candles and skull furnishings looked so similar to the decorative architecture of the DWMA.

Of course, just thinking about home once made the meister frown a little. They wondered how Maka was doing. How everyone was doing.

Crona was beginning to worry they’d be doing A LOT of sullen wondering the longer he was away.

“Welllllll, shoot! What’s the long face for, new friends?” A gleeful cackle startled Crona, making them jump. The laugh came from the Clown with the Tear-Away Face, leaning so far out of his stand he was practically falling out of it. It was painted with bright circus colors, with multiple flags poking every which way and a big top tent ceiling covering the entire stall. Assorted and strange delicacies were arranged at his table: cotton candy, hot dogs, popcorn – common circus or fair delicacies. “Saw you newbies at the rehearsal earlier. You got the look down with your outfits, but you seemed a little lost. Didn’t have the routine down, I betcha. But it’s alright, everyone’s like that at first. You’ll learn it soon enough!”

His yellow toothed grin, bulbous nose, and wild eyes weren’t exactly the most welcoming features, but it was already too late to not converse with him. “Yeah, we’re new in town,” Sucy told the clown. “Friends of Spawn, if you know him.”

“Sure I know that fella! One of Jack’s old pals, swings by once or twice in a blue moon.” The Clown scratched at his forehead. “Doesn’t seem to like me very much, though.”

Then he belched. Crona flinched at the disgusting sound. “I-It sure is anyone’s guess why…”

“Anywho, how’s about a welcoming meal?” the Clown threw up his hands. “Come on, take a gander! It’s on the house, to celebrate your first time in Halloween Town!”

“O-Oh, well, that’s quite kind of you,” Crona stammered. They opened up the coin bag they had been given. “But we couldn’t possibly just-”

Sucy had, however, already swiped a hot dog and a small popcorn from the clown’s corner. “Thank you kindly.”

“Hehehe, little lady’s got an appetite!” the Clown cackled. He looked to Crona. “Come on now, don’t be shy! Pick something for yourself, little… erm. Whatever you identify yourself as!”

They were going to decline, somewhat unsure of his wares (the meat on some of the kebabs looked like it had little insect legs attached – some of which were still wriggling around), but from within the meister came two tremors. One was their own stomach – Sucy had the right of it, Crona really couldn't remember the last time they had something to eat. They thought maybe back at home, with Maka but… no. They had left. Filling their stomach had not been on their mind at all that day.

The other rumbling wasn’t even their own. A hungry, distorted gurgle, eager for something sweet. “The cotton candy, get the cotton candy, it looks DE-LISH!” Ragnarok demanded. Crona could almost feel him drooling from within them, which was a common yet totally disgusting feeling they never had truly managed to get over.

“C’mon, Crona,” Sucy urged with a nudge of her elbow. “Gotta keep up our strength, or something. Akko would say something like that if she was here.”

The meister folded, the three-way attack from Sucy, Ragnarok, and their own stomach getting the best of them. “O-One hot dog and one cotton candy then, if that’s okay.”

“Coming riiiiiiiiight up!” the Clown cackled, spinning around on his tiny unicycle and preparing the snacks at a breakneck pace. The hot dog ended up looking pinker than the cotton candy, while the sugary confection had some sort of mysterious flakes in it. Crona wasn’t about to ask, it wasn’t theirs to eat anyway.

“T-Thank you,” said Crona, with the slightest of nods.

“Enjoy, new friendos!” He jabbed a finger down the lane. “The others have already gone ahead and set up some tables and chairs for lunchtime! Maybe they used some of the older ones – might find some ABC gum underneath if you’re lucky!”

“ABC?” Crona queried.

“Already Been Chewed,” Sucy answered.

“W-Why did YOU know that?”

“Good potion ingredient.”

“R-Right.”

Sure enough, the picnic tables were old and rickety, built out of what were, presumably, the same bleached, long dead trees that made up the forest just outside of town. The two students found a table of their own, earning a few cursory glances from the townsfolk.

“Do we really look so out of place here?” Crona wondered aloud, feeling the stares of the vampires on their back.

“Maybe. Not really something I notice,” Sucy responded through nibbles of her meal.

“You… really aren’t too bothered by that kind of stuff, are you?”

“Just used to it, is all,” she replied nonchalantly. “Even though Akko was the one who drew most of the stares at Luna Nova, we all collectively got side eyes from everyone.” She smirked. “Us troublemakers just sort of gravitated towards each other, I guess. Even then, I was the designated ‘weird girl’ of the group.”

“That’s not very nice of a title…” Crona mumbled.

Sucy shrugged. “Eh. Again, I’m used to it. I know who I am. Shouldn’t have to change to fit someone else’s desired view of me.”

Crona shifted in their seat, a melancholic smile appearing. “Maka used to tell me something similar… a lot of times, actually. I guess I was also the weird one at the DWMA. Though, I wish someone would have given me that kind of advice a lot earlier.”

Before Sucy could respond, Ragnarok sprouted from his meister’s back. “Jeez, you’re such a downer! Also GIMME!” His little hands swiped at Crona’s hand that held the cotton candy. With a sigh, they complied, letting their partner snatch up the confection. A giant mouth with equally pearly white teeth formed on his bulbous face, with which Ragnarok used to chomp his treat. Sucy found the transformation equal parts comical and creepy.

Through bites of the cotton candy, Ragnarok sneered, “Y’know. I know you’re dreary by default, but for someone who preached so much about moving forward, you sure like to fixate on the past a bunch. Just forget all that junk. ‘Bout Medusa, becoming a Kishin, all that crap.”

“R-Ragnarok!” Crona hissed, half-embarrassed, half actually annoyed.

“What? I’m LINKED to you, moron. I know what’s on your mind all the time.”

“Medusa… that was your mom, right?” Sucy asked cautiously. “I thought I heard that name before from one of your classmates. She was… bad, right?”

She instantly regretted saying that, watching as Crona’s already wistful expression became more crestfallen. “You could say that…”

“If it’s going to upset you, we don’t have to-”

“It’s… okay. If we’re going to be on the same team, you should know. I haven’t exactly talked about myself much to you or Spawn anyhow.”

“As long as you’re okay with it.”

Crona nodded. “Lad- um. Medusa was my mother, and… well, I guess the black blood that she put inside herself was my father, weird and morbid as that sounds. She gave birth to me for the sole purpose of seeing if a biological creation could become a Kishin, fusing me with Ragnarok to achieve that.”

If the demon weapon had a comment to make, it was surely drowned out by him gobbling up the remainder of the cotton candy - plastic cone included.

“She was… not a good mother. She saw me as a test subject first, a pawn to order around, and her child last. I did… a lot of bad things for her. Fed Ragnarok souls, helped Eruka and Free with their missions. Worst of all, I attacked Maka and the others time and time again. It was… horrible. I was horrible. I was lucky they were able to forgive me… twice over, even.”

Sucy frowned. This wasn’t exactly what she had expected to hear today. Not on their supposed “fun” tour around town. Still, morbid curiosity got the better of her, asking “Twice over?”

“Yes…” Their voice had grown so tiny, so small. Having finished his treat and seemingly grown bored of the recollection, Raganrok had disappeared. Neither Crona nor Sucy had noticed. “Lord Death made me a trial student of the DWMA after Asura’s release and Medusa’s defeat. It was a tough transition, but I was getting help from Maka and Soul and the others. Plus Miss Marie – she wasn’t there when you were, but she was a Death Scythe and a teacher at the academy.” A sliver of a smile reappeared. “She was kind, a little spacey and bad with directions, but patient and pleasant with me… even after I betrayed her. Medusa had survived her fight with Dr. Stein – you, um, didn’t meet him either. He and Miss Marie are on a honeymoon together – and had me make Miss Marie drink a spell that would enhance Stein’s madness…”

“And you couldn’t fight back. Because she’d hurt your new friends,” Sucy surmised.

Crona nodded solemnly. “Maka and Soul left during the middle of the great big fight between the DWMA and Arachnophobia, just to come save me and Miss Marie. If they hadn’t… well, I really don’t know what would have happened, I guess. I really owe them everything. I owe everyone everything. And… um.”

They trailed off, suddenly distracted. Sucy leaned forward. “What? What is it?”

Crona pointed. “We… uh. Have company.”

Sure enough, there were some curious onlookers peering at the two from the other end of the picnic table. A chubby kid with pale skin and his eyes sewn shut, a one-eyed mummy with raggedy bandages, and a little bat-like demon child whose wings were larger than its entire body.

“Oh shoot, they’re looking at us,” the Mummy Boy mumbled.

“Are you sure they see us?” the Corpse Kid replied.

“Oh, I’m sure, Ethan.”

“Good. Because I can’t. Not with these eyes!”

“How are you so good at stealing all the candy, then?” the Winged Demon said accusingly.

“I, uh, have a good sense of smell!”

“And an even bigger appetite!” His mummy friend laughed.

“Um.” Crona attempted a small wave at the three. “Can we… help you?”

With their not-so-stealthy mission compromised, the three Halloween Town kids hopped up to either side of the picnic bench where the two students were seated: Ethan sat next to Sucy, while the Mummy Boy and the Winged Demon taking spots to either side of Crona. “Whatcha guys doing here in Halloween Town? First time visitors?” Ethan asked.

“We saw you guys with the big scary demon guy with the cape,” said the Mummy Boy.

“It seemed like you guys knew Jack too!” the Winged Demon chirped.

“Well, you’re right about all of that, I guess,” Sucy replied. She ignored the way the zombie kid next to her was “looking” at her small popcorn. He looked totally ravenous. “Some not-so-nice people messed with all of us, so Spawn thought to ask Jack for some help.”

“Spawn! That’s right, that’s his name!” The mummy cried, looking over to his bat-like friend. “You owe me three bags of candy corn.”

“Oh, whatever,” the Winged Demon said with a roll of their eyes.

“Not-so-nice people? Like the boogieman?” the zombie boy queried.

“Shhhhh! You’re not supposed to talk about him!” The mummy shushed.

“It’s not like he’s anywhere in town. Jack said so himself!”

“He mentioned some sort of boogieman when we were at his home,” said Crona. “Oogie Boogie, I think it was?”

“That’s him! The meanest, nastiest guy in allllll of Halloween Town,” the Winged Demon proclaimed.

“My mom and dad told me he used to be old friends with Jack, a long, long time ago,” said Ethan. “They both wanted to be the head of Halloween Town, but Oogie got too competitive and greedy, and all he did afterwards was try to torment and bug the whole town.”

“Literally! He infested the whole place with creepy crawlies!” The mummy child shivered. “And I thought having to deal with scarab beetles wiggling in my sarcophagus was bad.”

“Jack never mentioned anything like that to us,” Sucy hummed.

“Must be something personal,” Crona thought aloud.

“Well, I bet Jack would make short work of these not-so-nice out-of-towners!” the Mummy Boy chortled. “He’s beaten Oogie a bunch of times. He’s as strong and fearless as they come!”

“There’s a lot of these bad guys,” Sucy warned. “They come from all kinds of different worlds, and they’ve already hurt a lot of people. Friends of mine and Crona got…” Sucy thought twice about her words and stopped short, shaking her head. These kids didn’t need to know all the gruesome details. “That’s why we came here. Hoping to get help. Make a plan to stop them before anyone else anywhere gets hurt.”

The zombie and bat children shivered at her ominous words, but the mummy seemed unconvinced. “No way they’re THAT scary. I don’t believe that.”

“They really are, though…” Crona mumbled.

“Well, maybe YOU’RE just chicken!”

Sucy frowned at this, turning into a full-on glower when the bandaged ghoul began making mocking clucks, making their other friends giggle. All at Crona’s expense.

Not on her watch.

“Oh, you’d be running from them if you KNEW just how bad they were,” the young witch said. She slowly reached into her satchel, both hands digging around, instinctively finding what she was looking for. She pulled out a small mortar and pestle, along with a few vials of strange looking ingredients, and a fistful of green mush that Crona hoped was just a grody looking clump of modeling clay. Sucy plopped the paste into the mortar along with some of the different additives, black flecks of something, tiny pieces of bone, a few strings of moss, and a singular mushroom, all ground up by her quick mashing with the pestle. The kids were instantly curious, beady eyes watching her movements.

Crona was too, utterly confused as to what she had planned. Their eyes met, and Sucy gave them a quick wink before dropping in the last component of her impromptu concoction: just a drop of some glowing purple substance that soaked right into the mush. The mixture shook within the bowl, an odd little dance on the table that surprised the kids into rearing back. The mush then freed itself from its confines, plopping down onto the table, pulsing about as if it were alive.

“You think this boogieman is so scary, but you haven’t seen anything like these guys we fought.” Sucy shifted her tone, as if she were telling a ghost story at a campfire. “Their leader is a horrible man in a big black coat, wearing a mask of dead flesh and wielding a fiendish scythe.”

As if responding to her voice, the mush shifted about, contorting and stretching, until a miniature version of the Scarecrow stood upon the picnic table, tiny scythe included.

“Woaaaaah,” chorused the kids.

“And at his side is a frightening woman. She may be human, but she’s smart and cruel, and can command the respect of even the most fearsome of monsters.”

Again, the mush changed, this time taking the small form of Takano.

“Well, that’s not SO scary,” the mummy said. He pointed at the Corpse Kid. “His MOM is way scarier.”

“Heeeey!” Ethan cried.

“There’s a living doll, with raven wings so large they can blot out the sky! And a man with a bowl for a head who uses gas to trick people into believing what isn’t actually there. Even a demon girl, skin as red as flame with crazy eyes who wields guns of glistening gold!” Sucy continued, her little blob of clay changing to suit the villain she was describing.

“A-And…” Crona finally spoke up. “A witch that uses explosive tadpoles that can blow up a city block. An immortal werewolf who can lock you in a giant cube f-forever.”

They knew it wasn’t forever, they had seen Free use the Independent Cube before. It could barely last an hour. But this storytelling was… kind of fun. It took their mind off of things, even if it WAS their enemies they were talking about.

“And last and certainly least,” said Sucy. “Is this newt girl with pink hair, wearing a gaudy dress with a laughably fat tail and horns so big she can barely keep her balance.”

The mush took the form of Elizabeth Bathory, the proportions this time scaling to how the witch described her.

“She might be their strongest member, but only because her singing is so horrible, so painfully terrible, that it keeps you from fighting back.” She eyed the Mummy Boy, and so did the fake Elizabeth, the animated thing growing tiny wings to fly up into the little ghoul’s face. “And it sounds just… like… THIS!”

Despite not having any sort of lungs within its mushy form, the tiny Liz suddenly shrieked, rattling the Mummy Boy’s ears. The sound was so grating even the creation seemed not to like it, because in seconds it POPPED, splotches of goo splattering the table and the mummy’s face, much to his dismay.

Ethan and the Winged Demon laughed at their friend’s misfortune, but apparently their giggles, along with the loud cry from earlier, were enough to gain other towns folks’ attention. “THERE you little ragamuffins are!”

The five at the table all turned to watch as a large woman in a faded floral dress, zombified just like Ethan was, hobbled towards them. To her side was a far skinnier man, equally as dead-looking, with frizzy hair and a prominent, round nose. As they approached, the Winged Demon muttered, “Uh oh. Busted.”

“I thought I told you to stay by my side, Ethan!” His mother, Bertha, scolded. “And after we just graduated you from the leash.”

When his friends snickered at this, Ethan grumbled, “Ahhh, ma. You know I HATE the leash…”

“That’s not BACKTALK I hear, is it?”

“Oh, don’t be so hard on him, dear.” Her husband, Ned, stepped in. “Boys will be boys. Always up to mischief and what not. Can’t really blame them, can you?”

“If you keep spoiling him, he’s gonna wind up like those little trick-or-treating hooligans that pal around with that no-good boogieman!”

“Oh, ma. We don’t play with those guys much,” Ethan sniffed. Under his breath, where only Sucy could hear, he added quietly, “They’re mean.”

Bertha made a “harumph” sound, nodding. “You certainly shouldn’t!”

Ned took a gander at Sucy and Crona. “Who are your friends, Ethan?” He saw the Mummy Boy with dripping mush coming from his one-eyed face. “Getting into food fights already? How lovely!”

“Get this! These newcomers came looking for help from Jack!” the Winged Demon chirped. “Pals of that heckspawn guy.”

At this, Bertha recoiled, gasping. “I THOUGHT I saw that dangerous looking fellow in town! Jack may be his friend, but I bet there’ll be nothing but trouble and danger from him!”

“He’s a protector, Bertha,” Ned waved a hand. “All those spikes and chains are for show. He’d never lay a hand on anyone here in town.”

“Who told you that? Devlin? At one of your late-night card games?”

“Actually, yes, he did. He’s a devil from down there. He knew all about hellspawns and other demon folk.”

“Hmph!” His wife gave a passing glance at Sucy and Crona before fixing her glare at the three young monster boys. “Alright. You had your outside time for the day, you hooligans. You all have fright homework to get to.”

“Awwww, maaaaaan,” they all groaned.

“JEEZ, and I thought Medusa was a sh*tty mom.” Suddenly, out sprouted Ragnarok, bulbous eyes slanted. “This lady’s a MONSTER by comparison.”

Bertha screeched at this, throwing up her (admittedly short) arms and running down the lane, the other townsfolk peering out at the commotion. The Wolfman and the Harlequin Demon both cackled at this, the former howling, “Yo, Ned! Your wife finally had enough of you?”

“Ha, ha, very funny.” The corpse father ran a hand down his face. “Alright, you heard your mother. Let’s get going, you’ve played around enough for today.”

“Dang it…”

“Bummer…”

“If you say so, dad.”

The three began shambling away, heading towards the zombie family’s home. Ned stopped short though, turning to Crona and Sucy. “I hope the boys didn’t bother you too much. They’re curious little buggers, but they’re not bad kids.”

Sucy opened her mouth, but Crona cut her off. “T-They were fine. Nice little kids.”

Ned let out a thankful sigh. “That’s good to hear. Hate to have them break one of our core edicts, right from our town’s very anthem! Being frightful is our job, but we’re not mean. Jack works really hard to make Halloween Town a welcoming place for all scary folk to call home. Why, we’ve had exchange students flit in and out of here from other worlds every so often, but only for a few weeks at a time. It’ll be nice to see some new faces actually manage to stick around for a wee bit longer! Wouldn’t do any good to scare you all off so soon for all the wrong reasons.”

“Isn’t that a bit counterproductive to like… everything here?” Sucy asked. “Scaring, I mean?”

“I guess you’re right about that!” Ned laughed, hard enough that he started coughing up dust. “Oh, and please don’t mind the missus, either. She just hasn’t had her acid bath today. She isn’t that grouchy… normally.”

“I-I’m sure…” Crona replied. Ragnarok rolled his eyes.

“C’mon dad! Mom’s stuck in the doorframe again!” They all heard Ethan’s voice down the road.

“Oh boy.” Ned shook his head. He gave a short wave to the students. “You try to enjoy yourself in town, okay? And remember! Life’s no fun without a good scare!” Then, he raced off, preparing himself mentally for the lecture he’d receive once he’d freed his wife from her predicament.

After relative calm had been restored to their table, Sucy said, “They’re so weird here.”

“But you probably like that, don’t you?” Crona asked knowingly.

Sucy nodded. “Yeah. I do.”

They shared a short laugh together. Ragnarok groaned. “Saps. The both of you.” He leaned down, prodding his meister in the cheek with a hand. “We were the DEMON Swordsman, Crona, we-”

“Swordsperson.”

“Yeah, yeah. We WERE that. We HAVE power. You could have made those kids eat a dozen knuckle sandwiches if you wanted to. You sure didn’t need Miss Gloomsville here to protect your scrawny behind.”

A stray piece of mush found itself flying through the air, hitting Ragnarok straight in the eye. He made his torment known: “AHHH, MY EYE! I’M BLIND! GAH-!”

“That’s what you get,” Sucy huffed, wiping her finger.

“Even if we have that power, using it on harmless kids like that… it’d make me no different than the average schoolyard bully, wouldn’t it?” Crona explained. They reached behind them and plucked the wayward fleck out of their partner’s bulbous eye. “I’m sure Maka wouldn’t approve of it either.”

“I’m sure she’d be proud of you.” Sucy offered them a smile.

“Yeah… and, um. Thank you. For the whole clay story thing. You didn’t have to.”

“Yeah, well. No one picks on my pal.” She eyed Ragnarok, who returned a steely glare of his own, but said nothing, just folded his tiny arms around his tiny body and looked away. Sucy shrugged. “You really shouldn’t be so hard on yourself, though. If there’s one thing I do agree with Ragnarok, it’s that you should stop ruminating on the past. Letting it dictate your every move in the future… it’s gonna mess you up. Big time.”

She smiled softly. “I know a big idiot back home who never lets any of her failures get to her. Sure, she stumbles and falls. A lot. More times than anyone can count. And sometimes she makes it everyone else's problem. But you know what she does? She gets back up and moves on. Keeps going. And I think that’s cool. Just like how I think it’s cool that you’re still working hard to try and change.”

Crona blinked. “You… you really think that?”

“I do. But uh. If we ever go back to Luna Nova for anything… don’t tell Akko I said any of that. Her ego probably won’t be able to handle it.”

“S-Sure.” All of the witch’s words were just what the meister needed to hear… and then some. “Thanks. Again.”

“Any time.”

“Ah! There you are!”

Sucy, Crona, and Ragnarok all turned, Jack’s gangly arms waving at them from down the road, Spawn and Sally following right behind. Any of the townsfolk nearby were quick to call out to the skeleton, shouting hellos and sending praise his way, which, by his very nature, he always returned, thankful for all the support.

“Ever the socialite,” Spawn muttered, his cloak instinctively drawn over himself.

“Imagine what it’s like just trying to go out for groceries,” said Sally.

“Oh, it’s not that bad,” Jack replied.

“Jack, you’d stop and help a family of nightcrawlers cross the street if you had the time.”

Jack looked hurt at this. “But… but what if they need to get somewhere soon? I couldn’t just-”

Sally placed a hand on his cheek. “I’m kidding. It’s what I love about you.”

The skeleton blushed. “Oh, you…”

“Dang. It must hurt to be such a third wheel,” Sucy joked to Spawn.

He grunted. “Enjoying your time out?”

“You could say that.”

“Were you able to find a place for us to say?” asked Crona.

“Yeah, yeah!” Ragnarok piped up, suddenly interested. “Some place big and scary with a huge fridge and tons of cabinets for snacks!”

“Ragnarok, don’t be selfish.”

“What? We’re trying to save the multiverse, aren’t we? I think it’s only fair we get accommodations appropriate to our heroic standing.”

“You. Calling yourself a hero,” Sucy snorted.

“Whatever it takes to get some grub around here!”

“I think you’re in for a delightful surprise, then!” Jack told them gleefully, smiling with all the energy of a child let loose in a candy store. “It took a little bit of convincing, but I think we found you all the perfect place to act as your base of operations!”

“And just how haunted is the place?” Sucy asked.

“Oh, only mildly so.” Jack leaned over, cupping a bony hand over his mouth while the other pointed a finger at Spawn before whispering, “He helped scare out the more stubborn of the ghostly squatters.”

“I know you’re talking about me,” Spawn deadpanned. “You’re not even doing a good job hiding it.”

“What? Me? Never!” Jack instantly jumped up, holding his hands up in defense. His smile was still a mile wide as he gestured to everyone. “Come, come, everyone! Let’s go take a look!”

And just as quickly as he arrived, Jack bounded back down the street towards the secret new abode he’d been hyping up, his long-legged stride practically getting him there already.

“You know, for the so-called Pumpkin King and head of such a scary town, he sure is awfully cheery,” Sucy pointed out.

“He’s just an excitable sort,” Sally explained. “Once Jack finds a new interest, a new thing to do, he’ll engross himself in it to the point of obsession. It’s… definitely led him – and the town – into some trouble. You heard his story about Christmas.”

“Oh.” Sucy and Crona said together, nodding. “That makes sense.”

“But that’s just another part of what makes Jack who he is. His flights of fancy are endearing. So long as someone’s there to keep him from tumbling down too many rabbit holes.”

“If only it were on better terms,” Spawn grumbled. “This isn’t a vacation for us. We’re trying to make sure the Federation is stopped before they cause any more harm. It’s not supposed to be track-and-field day.”

“And we understand that. Well. I do, at least,” Sally told him. “Just be patient with Jack. Humor him with some fun before getting down to the more serious business. He considers you a close friend, after all.”

It was true. Spawn wasn’t a dullard; he was aware of how moody and hard-headed he could be in all things. His years as a hellspawn left him distant and without many allies, and he’d be the first to admit that was no one else’s fault but his own. Jack, however, was the one oddball in a thousand worlds friendly and patient enough to tolerate Spawn, even if their encounters were few and far between.

He looked over his shoulder. Sucy and Crona had started up a conversation between themselves, the young witch hoping there’d be a room for a personal cauldron for herself. Which then spiraled into them who would best to ask FOR a cauldron, the two witch sisters being the obvious first suggestion the meister brought up.

Things have changed. Of that there was no doubt. Perhaps it was time to consider changing as well.

“Sure,” was ultimately Spawn’s muttered reply. This got Sally to grin knowingly.

It wasn’t long before the group stood before their new home. Just a short walk away from Jack’s house, basically making them neighbors. To say it was an odd domicile was to admit forgetting what town everyone was in. Tall, grim, and made of carefully arranged stone, it wasn’t clear right away if it was a two- or three-story home. At a certain angle, the house looked like some sort of rounded lizard’s head, a pair of circular and triangle windows on the highest most floor resembling that of the creature’s face. A cavernous gap lay halfway through the structure, an unconventional staircase arching out of said gap and into a spacious yard – a tongue, of sorts. All of this was enclosed behind a stone wall, just a head shorter than Spawn himself, with an iron gate to match.

“Welcome, friends, to your new home away from your homes!” Jack crowed, making a sweeping gesture from the others to the home.

“Huh.” Sucy looked it up and down. “Weird. Kinda impractical. All for the aesthetic.” She smiled. “I like it.”

“It does look nice…” Crona’s eyes kept falling back to the house’s open maw. It made them a little uneasy, even if snakes and lizards were fairly different. They weren’t about to turn away from the offer just because of a flighty comparison that Jack couldn’t possibly have known about.

“Once, this was known as the lizard house,” Jack explained. “I do believe, once upon a time, a crew of bipedal lizardfolk used to call this place home. Gila monsters, if I recall. That was before I was crowned King of the Pumpkin Patch, though, and they’ve since moved far, far away. Something about not paying the Undersea Gal proper rent? It’s been otherwise abandoned, only a few stray ghouls and specters haunting it themselves, but they’ve graciously left for you to stay here!”

“Graciously?” Sucy sent a curious look at Spawn.

“Do I really give off the impression I would intimidate some ghosts out of a free place to stay?” asked Spawn, somewhat insulted.

“Do you want me to answer that truthfully?”

“Do YOU want to sleep outside?”

“That’s teammate abuse.”

“There ain’t gonna be no weird elongated lizard face stuck in the front door talking to us the moment we try to enter, is there?” Ragnarok asked.

“That’s an oddly specific question!” Jack laughed. “But no, as charming as that would be, there isn’t a hide nor scale of any sort of creature.”

The demon weapon nodded. “Good. ‘Cuz that’d be annoying.”

The inside of the house was as spacious as it was peculiar. In essence, it wasn’t too dissimilar from a normal house, at first glance. The front entrance opened up immediately into the living room, which connected to a kitchen area. The stairwell is where the atypical architecture began to rear its strangeness. A couple of smaller rooms on the second floor, like a bathroom and storage closets, bordered around a sizable door that led to the outside staircase.

“Weird,” Ragnarok muttered. “Who’d ever want to use THAT as their exit?”

“I quite like it!” Jack announced. “I’d call it eccentric. Experimentive, even!”

“Question answered,” Sucy giggled, and Crona couldn’t help chuckling along.

The top floor was where the bedrooms were located. Four of equal size and each just spacious enough for some personal customization. Sucy nodded approvingly. “Oh yeah. We could fit a cauldron in here. No problem.”

“You’re rather fixated on that,” Spawn noted.

“Haven’t had a chance to do any kind of casual witchcraft or potion making since we hopped over to Crona’s world. The Sorcerer’s Stone did most of the heavy lifting for everyone back home, but sometimes it’s nice to do some classic brewing.” She giggled, sharp teeth showing. “I wonder what kind of unique ingredients I can find in this world.”

“Such a wei-”

Ragnarok’s insult was cut off by a sudden exclamation of Jack. “Oh, that’s such a lovely idea! Nothing like a little bit of fun hocus-pocus to break in a new home!”

He turned to Sally. “I’m sure you’d be the perfect teacher for Sucy here! You know better than anyone in town how to make a good concoction.”

For the first time, the group saw Sally frown. “Not that I don’t disagree, and I would absolutely love to show her around town some more. But Jack. Aren’t you going to see the doctor, to ask him about how he can help Spawn and the others?”

And, also for the first time, they (even Spawn) saw Jack sweat. Though, they weren’t exactly sure how, given his anatomy. “Well, yes, that is true, we were going to make a snappy little visit to see him, but you know, it’d be such a short venture, just a quick in-and-out, and it’s not like all of us have to be there, and I’m sure that-”

“Jack.”

He stopped mid-sentence.

“I know what you’re trying to do, and while I’m a little endeared by your efforts, you can’t exclude me from that conversation,” said Sally firmly. “Even if it is HIM.”

“I… I know…” Jack hung his head, arms drooping.

“What’s… going on?” Crona asked, confusion written over their face.

“Ugh. A DOMESTIC fight? That’s like, the lamest kind of fight,” Ragnarok huffed.

“The doctor they’re referring to is the most brilliant mind here in Halloween Town,” Spawn explained. “Smarter than some of the buffoon evil quacks over in my world, at least. He and Jack are the most knowledgeable when it comes to other worldly matters – no offense.”

Sally sighed. “None taken. You’re not wrong about the facts, at least.”

“Then why are we talking like going to see him will be worse than pulling a tooth?” Sucy asked.

“Because it WILL be worse than that. That man is an egotistical, uncooperative blowhard.” Sally’s expression morphed from composed perturbation to wistful apprehension. “He’s also the closest thing to a father I have. Whom Jack is trying, in all his overprotective kindness, to have me avoid.”

Jack stood, chuckling awkwardly while poking the tips of his index fingers together, like a child who had been caught red handed stealing from the cookie jar. “At least you acknowledge my attempts, heheh… eh…”

“Though I’m not too fond of admitting the doctor’s genius, Spawn is right,” Sally continued. She looked out of one of the circular windows, where a majority of Halloween Town could be seen. Just on the other end of town stood another building atop a hill, a tower with a huge rounded top, like a wayward research station of some kind. “If you want any chance of learning about how to better travel through the different worlds to stop these villains of yours, the best chance you have is to speak with Doctor Finkelstein.”

Finding and purchasing a secret evil lair can be so difficult, no matter how well the economy is doing. Sure, there’ll always be a market for some gang of rapscallions or recluse supervillain in need of a hideaway home to return to at the end of a long night of criminal debauchery, but imagine the long and frustrating documentation it takes to actually procure one! Not to mention the specifics: it’s got to be remote but not TOO far away from major metropolises, lighting has to be moody but still decent enough for those with bad eyes, indoor plumbing and air conditioning are a MUST – it's not the stone age anymore, people.

With all that taken into account, the abandoned observatory tucked into the mountainside just barely visible on the outskirts of St. Canard was quite the steal for the Phantom Blot. Literally. The place had long since been forgotten, the inky supervillain only finding out about it because of a five-year-old flier for an astrology conference he found buried underneath a mountain of other ads and notices on a community bulletin board at some dingy dive bar on the bad side of town. Rumor has it that the devious Quackerjack had tried to convert the observatory’s massive telescope into a cannon to launch his fiendish toys all over St. Canard, but apparently, he only managed to shatter the giant lens and soon realized the undertaking of converting such a large instrument for his nefarious purposes was far too much work. The tabloids reported that he’d simply begun tossing his creations from a stolen pickup truck into the streets.

Unfortunate. It probably would have made for a very entertaining and wacky episode of a Saturday morning cartoon show. But that’s neither here nor there.

What WAS here at the observatory was the Phantom Blot and his newest associates, making an ironically clean getaway from both the St. Canard police and the city’s “beloved” costumed crime fighter. Slyther instantly regretted turning himself and his cohorts back into their original forms, with Scanty, Kneesocks, Dahlia, and Warren all pouncing on him the moment they were normal sized again. The poor magician had to endure being strung up from the observatory rafters for twenty minutes before Mysterio had Eruka and Free, who were found about halfway up the trail to the home base, get him down. With that all squared away, the successful heisters lounged around the lookout, with Warren and Dahlia debating on how the loot would be divided.

“Listen, grannie, if it wasn’t for all your grenades and what not, we could’ve made off with even more expensive gizmos instead of just all the cash from the visitors’ pockets,” Warren chastised. The pool of earnings had been laid out on a table – a sizable collection of coins, bills, jewelry, and other belongings the convention attendees had coughed up as to not be shot by the feline gangster.

“Oh please. This is all chump change anyway.” Dahlia waved a flippant hand. “Besides. What good were you and that little piddly thing you call a gun? I’m amazed you could figure out how to work that children’s toy.”

“Hey, hey now! I ain’t about to be called dumb by some broad who got her main firing weapon plugged up by an oversized cork stopper.”

“How would I EVER be able to prepare for something so absurd in my life?”

“You fought that little redhead with her entourage of Saturday morning buffoons, didn’t you?” Kneesocks asked. She and Scanty sat at another table along with Eruka and Free. During their sprint back, the witch and the werewolf had passed by a burger joint, yoinking some huge order from a poor sap on his way home to share with him and his neighbor’s family. Nothing was better than stealing and eating food from someone who was willing to give to others out of the goodness of their hearts. It made the relatively subpar hamburgers just that much sweeter. Which wasn’t a typical taste for hamburgers, but free food was free food. “Would that not seem like something she’d do?”

Dahlia’s frown was visible through her veil. “Unfortunately, you’re right. That little nutbar from Avian would certainly pull a stunt like that.”

“Ha! See?” Warren said smugly, having no idea what was being discussed, and not really caring. The minor victory in their verbal spar was more desirable than context.

He was less smug once Dahlia’s arm cannon swung over to face him. “Though, if I recall, you aren’t much of a toon yourself, are you? Care to wager if this ‘grannie’ can’t aim straight?”

Warren chuckled nervously, instinctively pushing as much loot as he could towards her. “D-Did I call you a broad? Slip of the tongue. I meant to say your SHARE would be broad. Heheh…”

“Uh-huh.” A particularly shining band of pearls caught Dahlia’s eyes, which she delicately plucked between two fingers before stashing it away.

“Man. Sounds like you guys had a lot of fun,” said Free between sizable chomps out of his hamburger, cheese and condiments getting into the fur around his mouth.

“Oh for- c’mon, Free. Show some decency, will you?” Eruka stood up, a fistful of napkins in her grasp as she rubbed them over the offending foodstuffs. “You’re not an animal.”

Free looked down at his transformed state. “Uh…”

“You know what I mean!”

“Oi, I take offense to that!” Warren snapped.

“This is starting to get old,” Scanty muttered. Her undignified stature of her chin resting in the palm of her hand with her elbow atop the table was reminiscent of her blonde angelic rival – an easy connection Kneesocks could have reprimanded her sibling for, but she let slide in favor of not having to deal with the argument afterwards. “Don’t you have something you want to say to Free, Eruka? Something important?”

Eruka seized up, cheeks growing flush. “N-No. Nothing of the sort!”

“Really now.”

“Yes! I just want him to look presentable. Is that so wrong?”

“Not particularly. You just seem to care a lot about his well-being.”

“H-H-He’s my teammate! A f-friend even! What’s it to YOU anyway?”

“Just an observation. Don’t mind me.”

“Don’t pick fights even if you’re bored, sister,” Kneesocks told her. “It’s very unbecoming of you.”

Scanty grumbled into a bite of far too salted French fries. Her eyes drifted until the next most interesting thing appeared in view, and though she wouldn’t exactly describe Slyther as such, his posture was curious. One hand on an ear (or, at least on the side of his head, wherever the robot’s ear might have been located), the other on his hip, and a foot tapping rather impatiently.

“What’s the matter, Slyther?” the demon sister called over. “You’re not still upset over our little venting session, are you?”

The robotic magician did a double take, as if he had heard Scanty’s question but needed a few more seconds to process it. “What? Oh. No. Not at all. That’s just villains like us being villains. I should have expected such a reaction.”

“Then what IS it that you’re doing over there?”

“Trying to make a call.”

“To who?”

“Maybe to Miss Nunya,” Warren snickered.

Free scratched his head. “Who’s Nunya?”

“Nunya busine-!”

Three sodas worth of fizzing pop were poured onto the feline, courtesy of Eruka. Dahlia placed a hand over her veiled face. “Great, now everything’s going to smell like wet cat.”

“Who ARE you trying to contact, Slyther? Is it urgent?” Kneesocks asked.

“I haven’t heard from that loudmouth dippy doo of a mushroom in a while. She’s usually so insistent on calling me at least once a day that it’s a little vexing for her to just stop,” Slyther replied. Once again, he tried to make a call, but the connection only produced static. “And after I went through the trouble of having the Soul Sever install cross-world cellular calling into my systems. Little green dummy must have forgotten to charge her phone.”

“Awwwww. Slyther misses his little sister,” Scanty chuckled.

Slyther almost fell over from that. “A-Absurd! That’s not the case at all!”

“I can see you reddening through your blue paint job.”

“Lies! Slander! I just don’t want to be held accountable if she gets into any ridiculous trouble!”

“Suuuuuuuure.”

“Ooooooh!” He turned upwards, towards where the main observatory platform was located. “Mysterioooooooo! I’m being bullied down hereeeeee!” He paused, his voice echoing around the building before adding, “Againnnnnnnnnnnnnnnn!”

“You may as well forget that avenue of assistance,” said Kneesocks, also looking upwards. “Our dear leader’s got his head lost in the proverbial cloud nine.”

“More like the proverbial ink blot,” Scanty added.

Sure enough, Slyther’s wails fell on deaf ears, with Quentin standing at attention just behind the Phantom Blot. The black cloaked villain had the anti-gravity ray placed upon a workbench, its many compartments and mechanical inner workings exposed. Tubing and wires, energy radiators and fluctuation capacitors and a dozen of other odds and ends that Quentin, tech wizard though he claimed to be, hadn’t the slightest idea of what they could be. Sure, he was able to create many deceptive contraptions of his own, but some of the jargon the Blot had began rattling off sounded exactly the same kind of nouns Doc Ock or the Tinkerer would have used.

That really wasn’t what he was captivated by, though. It was the passion, the raw, exhilarating ardor coming from the Blot’s words. His smarts and ingenuity were impressive, but just the way he talked, the confidence and bravado radiating from his jetblack form. A younger Quentin starting out in the world of supervillain crime would have made this man his idol. Hell, the CURRENT Quentin was making the Blot his idol.

“And then I said, ‘The late Mickey Mouse? OH, I like the sound of that,’ right before I kicked him in the behind with a boot,” the Blot laughed heartily, twirling a screwdriving around his fingers. “Of course, that schmuck of a do-gooder hasn’t shown his face around here in some time. Went to go play pretend king or something or other. Guess he thinks he’s too GOOD to be my personal nemesis. Not that I care – less for me to have to worry about.”

“Yeah. Totally. I get that,” Quentin replied. He didn’t really.

The Blot gingerly brought down a steel plate to cover up the complicated mechanical insides of their prized weapon, securing it with some precisely placed screws and giving it a smack with fist for good measure. “There. Those calibrations should enhance the flow of the anti-gravity particles and stabilize the firing. Shouldn’t shake as much in your hands.”

“Yeah, that’s… that’s awesome.”

The Blot raised a brow. “Are you alright? You seem to be in a daze.”

Even if they were nothing but two little ovals over a dark coat, the fact that they were peering right at Quentin broke him out of his reverie. “O-Oh! No, no, I’m fine! Just… totally impressed by your hi-tech know-how! It’s leagues above what even I could do, I dare to say it’s even better than some of the top minds from my world!”

His fellow supervillain laughed, getting up from his workbench and clapping a hand on Quentin’s shoulder. “Such praise is unnecessary, but appreciated all the same.”

The Blot went to the back of the platform, a sizable work desk reminiscent of an office cubicle set up. A corkboard with various photographs and newspaper clippings were pinned there, most notably pictures of Professor Von Drake and Scrooge McDuck with sharpened ballpoint pens jabbed into their heads. Various blueprints and assorted plan notes were spread about, all speckled with splats and smears of black. A coffee maker also rested here, which was the Blot’s main target. “Coffee, Mr. Beck? Apologies in advance, I don’t have any cream or sugar. I’ve never had guests before. You’ll just have to take it as I do.”

“I can handle a little bitterness. Our successful heist is all the sweetener I need!” Quentin proclaimed.

The Blot guffawed again. “Well said!”

He retrieved the two coffees and handed Quentin his cup. He actually wasn’t the biggest fan of straight black coffee, but he wasn’t about to prod his host over something so trivial. It was still interesting (if a bit confusing) to watch as said host held his own cup to his masked face, somehow actually managing to sip the warm beverage through his inky black cloak.

Quentin took courteous small sips as the Blot spoke up again. “I must say again that this has been one of the most enjoyable capers I’ve ever pulled off! The Money Bin fiasco was one of my most deliciously deceptive maneuvers I managed to do, but this joint venture with your little rag-tag bunch was a blast! I’m so glad you managed to run into that little weasel Warren, otherwise I’d have missed out on such exhilarating payback against that quack Von Drake.” After another sip, he added, “And, of course, getting to meet such delightfully rotten company such as you and yours.”

As was his nature, Quentin was unable to stop himself from taking a bow. “Now who’s the one giving unnecessary praise? …actually, no, I’ll take it. And more, if you have some to spare.”

“Haha!” The Blot slapped a knee. “It’s so hard to find someone who actually GETS it. The art of being a super criminal. The joy of the chase, the stardom, no matter how infamous! Your name in the paper, on wanted posters, on television! Sure, it’s all negative, but-”

“Any publicity is good publicity!” Quentin finished.

“Exactly! See? You DO get it! I’ve been running solo for so long, it’s like a breath of fresh air to be a part of a team again.”

“Aw, don’t tell me you don’t consider Warren your little kitty-in-arms.”

“An employee who I share a cordial relationship with. But not on the same level as an actual, REAL team.” The Blot sighed, shaking his coffee cup from side-to-side, watching the dark liquid spin around within the Styrofoam. “Way, waaaaay back when, I tried a little team up with some who I assumed were like-minded crooks and creeps from both cities, but it couldn’t have gone more sideways. Far too many dissenting opinions, too many of us wanting to be in charge.”

“Perhaps a bit ironic to hear this from me, but ego IS always hard to manage,” said Quentin in some attempt of consolation. “Can’t say I’m very different. Back on my home world, before I met this current crew I run with, I was a member of a sinister syndicate looking to do just about every evil crime in the book! But most of all get our shared vengeance upon an annoying wall-crawler that had defeated us time and time again!”

Now Quentin was the one sighing. “It wasn’t always sunshine and rainbows, though. Sure, we had some good times – just chilling in any number of hideaways around New York – but we also had plenty of grievances, even for a united team. My illusions and animatronics didn’t always go well with the others’ more… hands-on approach to solving our problems.”

One in particular always liked to tell Quentin not to overdue things… as if it wasn’t the persona that he took YEARS out of his life to craft, create the perfect image of what he WANTED to be and ACT.

“Unfortunate – for them,” the Blot told Quentin. “You were marvelous at the expo, and, for once in my villainous life, that isn’t hyperbole. I’m sure your old teammates would be slack-jawed to see the way you command your new squad.”

Quentin spared a glance over the platform railing. Kneesocks had begun calculating shares of the spoils, much to the dismay of Warren, while Scanty and Dahlia had begun comparing their firearms. Free laughed heartily as Eruka and Slyther began doing minor magic tricks, transmogrifying the toys found in the stolen kids’ meals into various ridiculous shapes, sizes, and colors. It was goofy. And silly. Kind of dumb.

And something that probably never would have happened with the Six.

Quentin found himself weirdly smiling. “Yeah. You know what? They would be-!”

A rancorous THUD shook the entire facility. Quentin blinked before leaning over the railing with a shout, “Dahlia! What are you DOING down there?”

“Why do you ASSUME it’s me first?” She shot back venomously.

“Is that a trick question?” Scanty snickered.

“It came from the front door!” Warren yipped.

“Think it’s that pesky purple do-gooder come to finish what we started?” Slyther queried.

“Impossible!” the Blot shouted. He was quick to descend the staircase that led to the lower level, Quentin trailing just behind after taking a moment to put his helmet back on and snatch up the anti-gravity ray. “This is a remote, secret location! There’d only be one other person who’d know about it! And she’s not welcome here anymore!”

Underneath his helmet, Mysterio blanched. Something in his chest knotted as he did a double take and repeated the offending word: “She?”

“Well, I guess this mysterious ‘she’ has come to say hello,” said Kneesocks, her scythes instantly drawn.

Free cracked his knuckles after running an arm across his mouth to remove any excess food Eruka had missed. “I’m ready to throw down, anytime, anywhere! Let ‘em come!”

Eruka palmed her face when she saw the remains of ketchup and mustard staining the werewolf’s fur. “Why do I even bother with you…”

Warren snickered. “Because you like-”

The witch grabbed him by the small of his neck. “S-SHUT UP! Not another word! Or you’ll learn a whole new definition of what it means to skin a cat.”

“You women are horrifying…”

The observatory front doors were pounded upon, again and again, with the same rhythmic drumming of a battering ram slamming into the gate of a medieval castle. No one was totally sure what to expect on the other side, but they got their answer after one final powerful strike. The entrance exploded inward, the front doors clattering onto the floor. When the dust settled, a lithe figure in a black biker jacket stood before them, unkempt raven-hair framing her scowling face. She was a duck, a good deal taller than Darkwing, but far from heroic. In her grasp was a gigantic paint brush pen, its bristles frazzled from the repeated assault against the front door.

“AH HA! I was RIGHT!” she sneered in self-congratulation. “Ever the classical, commonplace crook of tradition, aren’t you, Blottie? Can’t give up your ramshackle, rickety residence no matter how outrageously outdated such banal scenery is!”

“Good heavens, someone help the poor lass!” Slyther cried. “She swallowed an entire dictionary!”

“Oh no, not THIS lady…” Warren could already feel the headache coming on. And no pushover co*ckroach assistant to administer him ibuprofen this time around.

The talkative mallard scanned the Federation before sniffing, “Well. The news, as foolishly feeble-minded and dimly dense as they are, were at least right about your new second-string subordinates you recruited to sabotage that egregious electronics expo. Guess you FINALLY learned to expand your egotistical ethos to include some other piddling palettes of proportionate pitifulness.”

Dahlia cast a glance over to the demon girls. “She talks like a more exaggerated version of you two.”

“We do NOT sound like her!” Scanty fumed, stomping her foot. “What’s wrong with having an advanced level vocabulary?”

“I see you’re as hyperbolic as ever, my dear,” the Phantom Blot sneered. “Ever the one to have the last twenty words in any conversation.”

“You… know this bird?” Mysterio asked in what someone might have construed as concern.

“Unfortunately. Splatter Phoenix. St. Canard’s self-proclaimed artistic arsonist extraordinaire. Though all I see is a flippant ignoramus who couldn’t even order anything off the value menu without turning the date into a half-hour lecture.”

Mysterio’s heart plunged into the depths of his chest. “D-Date?”

Scanty and Kneesocks exchanged glances. “Oh no.”

“Worst mistake of my life,” the Blot replied, shaking his head. “I thought the thematic similarities between our styles of villainy would mix like complimentary colors. But ink and obstinate pretentiousness just don’t mix.”

“Ha! As if you can throw stones,” Phoenix spat. “I thought I could learn a thing or two from one of the original superiors in villainy, but your charm ended the moment I realized just how stuck in the past you are! Ink blots here, ink blots there, it’s nothing but black and white with you! Such pedestrian malfeasance is barely worth hanging on a refrigerator, let alone praising for the sake of antiquity! An asinine, outdated dead-beat stuck in the past of the good ol’ days should step aside and let the aspiring up-and-comers take the stage and lead the world into a villainous tomorrow!”

The Blot leaned over, whispering to Mysterio, “She thinks she’s all that, but she’s nothing but bluster. Your pageantry far exceeds her by MILES.”

Normally, such an acknowledgment of the hard work he puts into his extravagance would have brought Mysterio to the moon, but all he could utter was a low “Uh-huh…”

“And so you, what?” The Blot returned his steely glare upon Phoenix. “Saw an ACTUAL successful villain’s plan on the news and thought to swoop in and steal all his hard work from under him? Well, my dear, I’m afraid you’ve bitten off far more than you can chew, if you haven’t realized.” He spread out his arms wide, emphasizing the group that now stood with him. “But I’m a reasonable man. I can let you off with a warning if you take you and your oversized brush and skedaddle on out of here. Maybe try painting a portrait or two. Take your mind off of being such an immature brat.”

Phoenix let out a snorting laugh. “As if I’d bend a knee to your cavalcade of sideshow simpletons! You really think me such a buffoon that-”

“Yes.”

“LET ME FINISH!” She shrieked, pulling at her hair. “Of COURSE I’m not insipid enough to come facing your preternatural petulant posse alone!” She craned her neck, shouting out, “Get in here, you wretched, reprehensible reprobates!”

A gaggle of faces stormed into the observatory to join Phoenix. A heavyset bird dressed in blue with an apron and a bandanna around her forehead, wielding, of all things, a broom; a rotund walrus also clothed in blue, with a top hat and bowtie, flanked by three short penguin henchmen; and a small scruffy… guy, one could say, in overalls, riding atop an alligator.

The maid cried out after scanning the observatory. “Oh my! What a horrible mess! Destroyed equipment, ink splotches this way and that and-” She gasped, eyes wide at all the food wrappers tossed aside. “Trash, trash, and more trash! This place is a disaster!”

“I’d say,” the walrus droned. “The set design here is atrocious, barely enough for a low budget post-apocalyptic affair, let alone something worth my time and expertise.” His trio of minions bobbed their heads in single-minded agreement.

“Well, Iiiiiiii love it! Not much of a techie myself, growin’ up in the bayou and all that, but I can appreciate a place wide enough for me and my earnings!” The smallest miscreant of the bunch, now revealing a thick Cajun accent, announced loudly before hopping off his scaly steed. “Ain’t that right, Gumbo?”

His alligator, apparently named Gumbo, rose up on his hind legs and nodded.

The Blot studied each of the foes now presented before him…

…and roared with laughter.

“Phoenix, my discursive dear, if this is your way of a joke, then I must say, hats off to you!” he cackled, needing to place both hands on his knees lest he fall over. “If the assignment was to round up some perfect grade D-LISTERS, then I’d say you passed with flying colors. Which, given your predilection, should make you oh so very proud.”

“Hey now!” the maid squawked, bushy eyebrows knitted angrily. “I used to work for F.O.W.L.! I’m no filthy, middling pickpocket!”

“And just how well did that serve you, Miss Pine?” the walrus posited. “Every criminal this side of St. Canard knows about your utterly embarrassing melodrama featuring Steelbeak. And frankly, my dear, that’s a stain you WON’T be able to wash out.”

Ammonia Pine grew beet red. “W-W-WHY YOU-! Don’t you EVER mention his name in my presence, Tuskernini you louse, or I’ll be cleaning out your mouth with something far worse than SOAP!”

“Uh huh, sure, sure,” Tuskernini yawned, clearly unintimidated. “Though, I suppose every great production needs a cleaning crew. You certainly bring more to the table than the little ragamuffin and his pet lizard.”

Now it was the “ragamuffin” turning red. “This here’s why I can’t STAND you uppity city folk, always talkin’ in your haughty-taughty language, thinkin’ you’re all better than ol’ Jambalaya Jake!” He stuck a stubby, grimy finger towards the walrus. “And for your in-fo-may-she-on, Gumbo is an alligator. Though at least some big shot movie maker could get at least THAT right!”

Gumbo nodded vigorously, but, for the most part, wasn’t paying much attention to the squabbling of his peers. The creature’s eyes drifted towards the half-eaten fast-food delicacies across the room.

“Oh no,” muttered Scanty. “I really hope this isn’t what our opponents see when WE bicker back and forth. It’s so annoying.”

“I don’t think you want the answer to that,” Dahlia chuckled.

Mysterio shook his head around. Even though his thoughts were in a confused place right now, he was still in charge of this mission, and he would see it to completion. Even if it meant taking out some unexpected arrivals. He took a step forward, his cape bellowing out behind him as he jabbed a finger at Phoenix. “FOOLS! You dare sully our moment of triumph with your incessant jabbering? Ha! I have no tolerance for glory hogs, especially considering none of you ARE pigs.” He paused. “At least. I don’t think any of you are. I’m… not sure what the little guy is.”

Jambalaya scrambled on top of Gumbo. “Well, I’m glad you asked. I’m a proud-!”

“SHADDUP, JAKE!” Phoenix snarled before jabbing her own accusatory finger at Mysterio. “You’re out of your spheroid shaped mind if we’re all here JUST to steal from you kaleidoscopic ignoramuses!” She turned her glare on the Blot. “We know alllllll about your little stunt with the Money Bit.”

“Really now?” Blot cast a sideways glance over at Warren.

“Oh come ON now, that’s hurtful! As if I’d tell any of these screwballs about the gig!” Warren protested. “I’m a cat of my word… mostly!”

“I thought he was a rat,” Free mumbled.

“FREE, COME ON.” Eruka was about ready to tear her hat asunder.

“For once, your two-faced, miserly minion isn’t to blame. Our head patron figured out your machinations all on her own.”

“Head patron?” Blot repeated.

“OUTTA THE WAY, you bunch of screwballs!” A shriek echoed from outside, its owner stomping into the observatory, practically bowling over Tuskernini and his penguin henchmen. Heavyset and more traditionally garbed like Ammonia, this anthropomorphic dog wore a red coat over a purple dress, a small khaki sunhat, and a black bandit mask over her eyes. A quaint little handbag, styled with flower petals, dangled from her arm. She seemed meaner than any of the others gathered, a permanent scowl painted over what was normally a conniving but otherwise motherly disposition. She locked onto her target the moment she finished pushing through the others, her eyes practically forming into daggers right then and there at the Phantom Blot. “YOU.”

“Ah. I see. That makes sense,” he replied, glaring back. “Tonight’s dish is meant to be revenge then, is it?”

The woman shook with rage. “Blot, you slimy two-timing, rotten, oily cretin you! And to think there might have been a time where I respected you! Bein’ a no-good, lowdown crook is one thing, but having my poor boys take the fall for your little stunt with the Money Bin? That’s just criminal!”

“Um. Yes. That’s the point.”

“Let me guess,” Mysterio cut in. “The matriarch of the goons you mentioned early?”

“Indeed so,” Blot answered. “Ma Beagle. I’m surprised she hasn’t simply gone off to the elderly villains’ retirement home… or into a private casket boat ride down the river.”

“Oh my, how vicious!” Slyther piped up.

“I think you sometimes forget who you’re working for,” Scanty sighed.

Kneesocks adjusted her glasses. “I’ll be generous with you all: if we count your tag-along minions, you match our numbers exactly. However, you assuredly do not match us in combat power.”

“And you are giving us our one and only chance to walk away, our tails dangling between our legs?” Tuskernini asked mockingly.

“No. Simply telling you the facts of your poorly designed attack plan before we dispatch you all.”

“Oh, we’ll see about that!” Phoenix sneered. Dropping the battering ram paintbrush onto the floor, she removed a pair of smaller, normal brushes from the satchels around her belt. With quick, meaningful strokes through the air, the paint congealed into the forms of strange creatures: venus fly traps with faces of rottweilers and vultures with helicopter propellers in the place of wings.

“Minion creation magic?” Eruka upturned her nose. “Or some crude facsimile, by the looks of it.”

“Heh. Nothing we can’t handle.” Free’s wolflike grin was wide and toothy. “This’ll make up for not getting to fight earlier!”

“Looks like we’re all on the same page, then!” Ma guffawed. She reached into her handbag, pulling out a spiked baseball bat, gruesome nails rusted and nasty looking.

“Oy, toons. Gimme a break!” Warren groaned.

“She better not be a magician!” Slyther hissed. “That’s MY thing!”

“Oh, we all are, you walking blue refrigerator!” Ma smiled manically. “Gonna make you all disappear SIX FEET UNDER!”

With their insults exchanged, the two sets of villains charged, colliding into one another in the center of the observatory. Ma Beagle and Phoenix were dead set on going after the Blot, which Mysterio wasn’t about to let happen. He fired the anti-gravity ray again and again, with Phoenix managing to dip, dive, duck, and dodge out of the way. The wayward shots struck various pieces of debris that were scattered around, the room’s space beginning to fill with sheets of metal and broken tiles. This gave Ma Beagle perfect projectiles to whack with her bat, sending them flying towards the Blot. He’d retaliate with a firearm of his own: an ink blaster that splattered the objects in their tracks, leaving them gooey, floating messes.

All this garbage being thrown around would have driven Ammonia mad if she wasn’t too distracted defending herself from the onslaught of Scanty and Kneesocks. Which was strange in and of itself, considering all the bird was equipped with was a broom, yet she was dexterous enough to swing it around with such speed and ferocity to not only counter slashes from Kneesocks, but block shots from Scanty’s pistols.

That last bit in particular brought out the worst in Scanty. “How in the HELL are you doing that? It’s just a BROOM!”

“Titanium alloy, sweetie!” Ammonia laughed. “Never underestimate an expert cleaner!”

“That’s the most- GRMMPH!” Scanty lost the ability to snap back when her opponent quickly flicked out a bar of soap which landed directly in the demon girl’s mouth.

“That ought to wash out that potty mouth of yours! Ha!”

“Sister!” Kneesocks cried. “You’re going to PAY for that!”

Ammonia twirled her broom with all the fluidity of a master ninja, before crooking a hand towards the remaining demon sister. “Bring it!”

While Warren chased down the slippery trio of penguins, Slyther approached their master head on. “Fancy yourself a film aficionado, do you? Well, let’s see if the silver screen is any match for the art of the stage! WHAMO!”

He fired a blast point blank from his staff, its swirling energy crackling through the air. However, instead of turning its target into a puff of smoke, Tuskernini unveiled a classic film camera, rounded film magazines and all, and flicked it on. The strange device shined a light on the incoming blast before completely absorbing it, as if it were a hose instead of a camera.

“What the-!” Slyther was incredulous.

“Like it? A little device I invented to keep a certain meddlesome fowl’s obnoxious gadgets from ruining my suits,” Tuskernini chortled. “It absorbs incoming projectiles and, with the flick of a switch…”

He demonstrated, flipping one such lever with the faintest flick of a finger. The movie camera sputtered some before opening its lens and shooting out the same blast of magic Slyther had just fired. The ringmaster barely had time to sidestep out of the way, nearly tripping over his own cape in the process, the magical shot hitting a support beam nearby, weakening it considerably.

“And don’t think it only just reflects recent attacks, either, my good tin man. I’ve got a plethora of shots stored up during the experimentation phase!”

Tuskernini punctuated this by pulling the trigger of his makeshift weapon again, but instead of a fiery blast of energy, out came a volley of tomatoes. Slyther spun round and round, catching the ruby colored fruits in his own vortex and sending them elsewhere – one even managing to splatter into one of Tuskernini’s waddling cohorts, giving Warren ample opportunity to tackle the other two.

“Quite the contraption! But it doesn’t look very stable,” Slyther huffed.

“Alas, I’ve yet to fine tune its inner workings.” The walrus grinned fiendishly. “It should be enough to make short work out of a buffoon like you!”

“Well, then, put your money where your mouth is, pal!”

Eruka, for one, was not having a fun time, stuck having to deal with the rambunctious and speedy Jake. “Would you just sit still already? You’re freaking annoying!”

Her Tadpole Bombs were just barely missing as Jake scampered around, his tiny stature allowing him for some surprising maneuverability. “Well, shoot, little miss froggy! You fling out them little toadstool explosives mighty fast, but nowhere near fast enough to knock out ol’ Jake! Betcha that gal Macawber I hear about could run circles around you!”

He shimmied up the unstable support beam that had been struck by Slyther’s blast, blowing a raspberry. Eruka’s cheeks puffed out like her namesake creature. “Free! Crush this guy will ya?”

“A little busy, here!”

Free was hot on the heels of Gumbo, who had slipped by in all the havoc and held the remnants of the fast food the Federation had all been gnawing on. Just like his owner, the alligator was surprisingly quick on his feet, even while bipedal and chowing down on a half-eaten hamburger.

“UGH! Fine! I’ll destroy this creep myself!” Eruka spat. She conjured up a dozen tadpole bombs, flinging them all upwards at where Jack was taunting her from.

“Geronimo!” Jake called, sliding down the damaged beam, just narrowly avoiding the witch’s bombardment as they exploded one-by-one. The explosive barrage was enough to finally dislodge the metal from its place, the girder falling straight down.

Right towards Eruka.

Time seemed to slow down as the chuck of metal grew closer. A witch of her caliber could have made it levitate, or change into a different state of matter, or make it disappear altogether. But, in that sliver of a moment, she lost focus, the sight of the encroaching beam emerging from the smoke caused by her own attack freezing her up. The most she could do in the time she had was close her eyes, hold up her arms and expect the worst.

Where there was probably supposed to be a final clattering of steel instead came a loud bark of “That was a STUPID idea!”

Eruka’s eyes shot open, a completely different shadow covering her. “F-Free!”

Sure enough, the werewolf towered over her, muscles bulging as his claws dug into the steel beam. He was huffing and puffing, but Free was holding his own.

“C’mon Eruka, you’re better than that!” He flashed her a sharp grin. “What would the Mizunes say if they heard you got taken out by a stupid piece of metal like this?”

“F-Free… you… saved me?” Eruka stuttered.

“Oh, now don’t you go getting soft on me. Can’t have you kick the bucket before I do, yeah?”

“...but you’re immortal.”

“Shoot. I guess you’re right!” He guffawed loudly, stupidly.

“You’re… such an idiot…” Eruka grumbled, her cheeks reddening.

“Awww, ain’t that sweet Gumbo?” Jake said, leaning up against the alligator. Gumbo was trying his best to open up a packet of ketchup to put on the last of his chicken nuggets, but was finding it difficult with his sharp alligator claws. Jake smacked his forehead. “Good help is so hard to fish up outta the bayou, I tell you what.”

With a horrible snarl, Free flung the beam off of him like an amateur javelin thrower. It hurtled in the air towards the cajun criminals. In that exact moment, Gumbo dropped the sauce packet, which bounced away from him. The gator snapped his claws in irritation, and chased after the dropped condiment, getting out of harm’s way. Jake, who had still been leaning on his minion, stumbled over the gator’s tail and flopped onto the ground.

“Why you useless overgrown lizard! I outta turn you into a new pair of shoes for all the good you- uh oh.”

And that was all the illustrious Jambalaya Jake could get out before the beam struck him head on, crashing right through the wall of the observatory and tumbling down the mountainside.

“Ha, ha! Bullseye!” Free throw up his arms in victory! “Did you see that, Eruka? Did you how I-”

He was interrupted, his muzzle completely covered up due to Eruka fiercely pressing her lips up to his. Free’s eyes went wide in surprise, completely and utterly dumbstruck.

When Eruka finally let go, her face was completely red. “D-Don’t r-r-read too m-much into i-it, okay?”

“Uhhhhh…” Free wasn’t sure what to think.

“Oh for the love of- can the lovebirds get OFF the battlefield if they’re gonna stand around being disgustingly mushy?” Dahlia rasped. She was being swarmed by Phoenix’s paint creatures, hounding her with tooth and claw. There weren’t exactly many of them, but they moved erratically. Less of a challenge and more annoying than anything. When one venus flytrap dog hybrid tried to bite at the elder assassin’s ankles, a compartment opened in her knee, unleashing a conclusive blast that smeared the paint creature across the floor.

“Lowlife vermin.” She hissed, bringing her gun arm around to blast at a pair of helicopter vultures. They, similarly, exploded into multicolor splatters. Dahlia at least could take joy in dying the floor in vibrant reds and pinks, her imagination connecting the charnel dots.

“Hey, hey! Watch the vermin talk!” Warren snapped, having put one of the penguins into a headlock while another pulled at his tail. One of Phoenix’s vulture-copters was going in for a strike on the feline, but Dahlia intercepted it with a blast of her own. Purples and yellows poured down over Warren, turning into a sopping mess. Again.

“You look good in those colors,” Dahlia chuckled.

“Gee. Thanks.”

Mysterio and the Blot managed to move their two-one-two with Ma Beagle and Phoenix up to the observation deck. Ma had smacked the Blot’s custom firearm out of his hands, but like his oily namesake, he was proving to be slippery enough to avoid becoming a smear himself.

“STOP! NOT! LETTING! ME! HIT! YOU!” Ma snapped with every swing of her bat. Though she continuously missed the Blot, his private workstation was not so lucky.

“You should be THANKING me, really, Ma,” the Blot mocked. “I gave your boys a roof over their heads! Three square meals a day!”

“Behind BARS!”

“Semantics!”

Across the platform, Mysterio had taken a brief moment away from the anti-gravity ray to unleash what remaining bat minions he had leftover from the expo heist. They were few, but they were enough to annoy Phoenix, dive bombing her endlessly.

“This pitiful parade of pathetic peons won’t stop me! I’ll see you strung up over the St. Canard bridge with a sign that says- YEOW! Hey!” One of the impish creatures had landed onto her ratty mane of hair, biting and yanking on it. “Don’t pull my hair, you miserable malcontent!”

“Would you just… DIE already?” Mysterio snapped. Usually, in a spar with such a sharp-tongued adversary, he’d have any number of mocking boasts set up to distract his opponent into making mistakes. Or, really, just for him to gloat and play the part. Right now, though, he was upset. Genuinely. Perhaps even uncharacteristically so, he noticed. The revelation of Phoenix’s relationship with the Blot riled him so much more than he expected. The confusion mixed into worry which bled into embarrassment that transformed entirely into ire and hatred for the duck artist. He started betting a lot on the Blot… more than just newfound friendship. But now he wasn’t sure WHAT to think anymore. He’d ask but-

“Quentin, BEHIND YOU!”

“Huh?”

Mysterio barely had time to turn as his world exploded with light, Ma Beagle’s makeshift weapon smashing into his helmet. Glass shards scattered everywhere, a sliver cutting Quentin just under his eye. He felt himself knocked back into the railing, vision blurred as four spinning, overlapping versions of the mean matriarch raised the bat over her head.

“Say goodbye to your little playmate, Blottie!” she cackled.

“NO!” the Blot cried. He attempted to stop her, but was intercepted by Phoenix, having freed herself from the grip of the remaining winged annoyances and smashing them into smithereens.

Quentin may have been a tech expert, but he hadn’t worked in the film industry for nothing. He knew how to do his own stunts… as well as the precise timing for when to make the miraculous dodge out of the way of a lethal blow.

Which came just a millisecond as Ma flung the weapon downwards. Quentin dove to the side of the railing, kicking off it with his foot. The already suspect stability of the platform in addition to losing one of its support beams from Eruka’s earlier attack loosened the metal considerably, resulting in Ma slamming into the railing, knocking it right of its hinges. It came loose and fell - with Ma and half the platform along with it.

“What? No!” Phoenix shouted.

“Oh yes!” Blot responded, managing to use that surprise to look around the criminal artist. “Why don’t you follow along, dearie!”

“Hey, HEY, no, STOP-!”

But the Blot did not stop, and pushed Splatter Phoenix off the side to tumble along with Ma and the dislodged platform.

Slyther noticed the fastly approaching shadow overhead, and instantly cried, “HEAD’S UP, EVERYONE!”

Villains on either side scattered about, looking for the safest place to avoid the incoming platform. It landed with a rancorous, horrible sound, kicking up all manner of smoke and dust. This most definitely infuriated Ammonia, who gagged through the thick cloud. “Oh, to heck with this! Ain’t no revenge mission worth THIS amount of clean-up! I’m gonna be showering for DAYS now!” Her squawks of dismay could be heard even as she dashed out the front door. Similarly, Gumbo, having finally gotten his fill from stolen meals, found the hole his longgone partner had been flung out of and scrambled away.

Scanty poked her head out from under the debris. “Kneesocks! Kneesocks are you-”

Seconds later, Kneesocks popped out right beside her. “No need to shout, I’m fine.”

“Oh, so you are.”

Similarly, Slyther, Dahlia, and Warren all jutted out of the rubble. Free held a transformed, petrified Eruka in his arms, though it was less about the falling metal and more the closeness of his protection. She was the reddest frog one would ever find this side of St. Canard.

Quentin observed this from his spot up above, sighing in relief. He flopped over, energy totally spent. He could have gone for a little nap, right then and there, if not for a shadow suddenly coming into view above him.

“Quentin? Quentin, my man, are you alright?” The Blot’s cartoonish eyes were full of worry.

And he was close. Very close.

This got Quentin to shoot up, almost banging his own head against the Blot’s. “F-Fine! Yes! Totally all part of the plan! Exactly what I had in mind.”

“Really now.” The Blot looked around. “Well. If your plan involved making sure I never get my deposit back on this place, then. Mission success.”

“You… didn’t get a deposit for this place,” said Quentin.

The Blot chuckled. “Guess if you’re cognizant enough to remember that, then you must be alright.”

“We’re fine too, down here. In case either of you cared!” Scanty snapped from down below.

Quentin rolled his eyes. “Yeah, yeah. Your leader’s recovering. Hush up.”

“Oh, you’ll ALL certainly be hushing up once I’m done with you!”

From out of the dust came the rotund form of Tuskernini, his penguin posse snickering as their boss pointed the anti-gravity ray at the Federation. The cannon was sparking, frayed cords poking out from its innermost components.

“What?” Quentin was at attention. “How’d THAT guy manage to get the ray?”

“It fell from up above, and it just was far too shiny a trophy to resist,” the walrus mocked. “Such a surprising twist in the final act, wouldn’t you say?”

“Pal, I ain’t sure if you noticed, but you're down quite a few friends,” Warren snapped, still flicking paint out of his fur.

“True enough, but I imagine I can turn the tables once I do THIS!”

A few knobs on the cannon’s control schemed marked a range in the area, as well as general power output. Tuskernini changed both of those to eleven.

“Don’t, you insipid fool!” The Blot cried. “Can’t you see that the weapon is damaged!”

But the villainous film director did not care, merely declaring, “Now for the unkindest cut of all!”

Everyone braced for the worst as the cannon began to charge up, sputtering sparks of green forming at the barrel. Tuskernini pulled the trigger-

And the blast instantly reversed itself, the stress from the overworked settings causing the energy to right back into the wielder and his cohorts. The cannon fell apart, splitting into multiple pieces and falling onto the ground as a shimmer of green enveloped Tuskernini and his penguins.

“Oh dear. That wasn’t in the script,” he muttered.

“No sh*t,” Dahlia rasped.

“Really hoping to rise up in the film industry, are ya?” Warren snickered.

Sure enough, Tuskernini and his crew were beginning to float, arms and legs flailing about helplessly.

“Wait, no, hold on now! G-Get me down from here!” He slapped his henchmen. “What do I pay you for? Help me NOW!”

The trio all glared at him - he didn’t pay them anything.

“Sayonara, old sport!” Slyther guffawed.

“I could pop him like a balloon with one shot,” Scanty said, holding up one of her pistols.

“Same here,” added Dahlia, aiming her sights onto the floating walrus. He was surely a large enough target.

“Would it not be a crueler fate to watch him fly off into the stratosphere and suffocate to death?” Kneesocks pointed out.

“Jeeeeeez…” Free scratched at his neck. “That’s hardcore. Don’t you think, Eruka?”

“S-S-Still so close…” the witch babbled, her eyes swirling around.

They continued to watch as their enemies flew up and out the broken skylights on the observatory’s ceiling, all the way until their cries for help could no longer be heard.

The Blot helped Quentin descend the stairs, careful with their steps as to not have the remaining portion come collapsing down. “Well. That was a… sufficiently engaging battle, I guess.” Quentin murmured. “Just another W for the Federation.”

“Perhaps not…” the Blot sighed. His gaze fell upon the fragments of the anti-gravity cannon, little fizzles of energy zapping about in vain. “All that hard work, gone in an instant.”

“Well. It was still a thrilling heist,” Quentin replied. “Going to remember that one for quite a while.”

The Blot was incredulous. “But… the earnings… the whole reason you came here.”

Quentin waved a hand around. “This was just for fun anyway. Besides, we still got the loot from the visitors of the expo, don’t we?”

“Yeah.” Warren looked around the destroyed room. “Somewhere around here anyway.”

“It’s not like we have an entire evil laboratory that could be utilized to restore the anti-gravity ray in some way, shape or form,” said Kneesocks.

“Yeah… that would be nice.” The Blot blinked. “Wait, you have one of those?”

“Didn’t I tell you that?” Quentin replied.

“No, you didn’t.”

“I’m sure I did.”

“I would have remembered if you did.”

“Hmm… I’m just not so sure about that.”

“Ugh. They’re gonna be in a loop forever,” Scanty groaned. “Eruka, could you just get us home already?”

“Y-Y-Yeah… sure… no problem.” She gave a weak thumbs up.

After scooping up the remains of the anti-gravity blaster and fishing out as much loot as they could from the wreckage, the Federation made their departure through a portal conjured by Eruka. No one said any sort of goodbyes to the toon world, not even Warren sparing a second glance as he hopped in through the vortex, only a cackle of “Bon voyage!” before stepping on through.

Blot did, however, take a final look around his dilapidated base, and shrugged before facing the portal. “You know, I don’t believe I was given a formal invitation to join your little cabal.”

“Really? Are you-”

“Oh please, don’t start that up again, my friend.”

The two chuckled together.

“Well. Since you're so incessant. WOULD you be interested in joining?” Quentin asked. “Fairly sizable syndicate, filled with devious minds bent on universal conquest. Personal rooms and a fairly large kitchen too.”

“Oh, how quaint.” The Blot paused. As if he actually needed time to decide. Well… considering I don’t have much of a base anymore, and I’ve got more than a few new enemies that will be gunning for me.” This close, Quentin was able to see the crease of the smile through the Blot’s veiled face. “I might as well take you up on your offer. If you’ll still have me.”

“I warn you. We don’t have dental.”

“I’ll figure something out.”

“Hey, you guys done, or what?”

The two supervillains found Scanty poking her head back through the portal. “Eruka’s about to pass out. Can’t sustain the portal forever.”

“Why not?” Quentin asked belligerently. “It’s magic!”

“Ask the caster, not me.” With that, her head disappeared.

“So snippy.”

“I think I’ll enjoy this Federation of yours just fine,” the Blot said with a laugh.

With that, the two stepped through, the portal shimmering way seconds later.

A rumbling came from the debris moments after they departed. Ma Beagle and Splatter Phoenix both rose, sizable bumps on their heads.

“Ya shoulda warned me your ex had some nasty friends,” Ma muttered, still clearly woozy.

“Oh… why don’t you… you…” Phoenix opened and closed her eyes one at a time. For all her robust vocabulary, being banged around sure didn’t help her brain formula complex sentences showcasing her verbosity. “Oh, just shut up, you old hag.”

A slight tremor came from above them, and a loose beam fell down, clanging the two on their heads. They both groaned before falling backwards into the wreckage, eyes screwed up in pain.

“Aww man…”

“Please don’t tell me you were expecting this place to look like an ACTUAL sandbox.”

Shion’s disappointed grumbling and pouting face gave the obvious answer. Adiane let out a heavy sigh.

Hakoniwa Academy was just as sizable as Sever said it would be. Had any of the members of the team been present for the raid against Luna Nova or tagged along with Scarecrow and Takano to Myojo Academy, they would have been able to join the debate of which of the three schools was the largest. Classroom buildings, of which there were plenty of, were blocky and tall, uniformly white, though there was the occasional lavender or blue roof resting overhead that bucked the trend. Directional maps encased in glass were all over, revealing all the amenities the expensive school had to offer: multiple sports fields, a giant indoor swimming pool, dozens of lecture halls and even on-campus living quarters for those with especially deep pockets. And, most noticeable of all, an imposing tower practically touching the sky in the exact center of the campus, a clock set at the very tippy top of the structure.Though, one needn’t a map to find the towering high-rise looming overhead.

All in all, a halcyon depiction of an academic institution. To an unaware public, it’d sound like lunacy to accuse such an idyllic paradise of anything shady or corrupt.

But the Federation, shady and corrupt themselves, knew better.

“Why do they make these maps so indecipherable? The pictures and lettering are far too small!” Zurgane bellowed, trying to get a read on where the group was.

“Ooh ahh, perhaps the great warrior Zurgane is in need of some glasses!” Octoroo chortled. “A shame, just however will he get to any of his classes?”

Unfortunately, there was no defense this time around for the Nighlok wizard, and he received a hard smack on the back of his head for that. “STOP. IT.” Zurgane growled.

“Owaa ow ow…”

“Come on, guys! Stop messing around!” Shion cried, waving her arms around. “We gotta hurry and find a nurse’s office or something. And with a place THIS big, I bet there’s more than one!”

“Don’t forget those secret laboratories Sever mentioned,” Zeltrax added. “There might be clues to their whereabouts if we dig deep enough.”

“We could always ask the student body.” Adiane gave a mocking chuckle. “Oh yes, excuse me? Might you know where we can find the insidious underground bunker where your superhumans are being experimented on? We were hoping to get a looksee.”

If Zeltrax had any visible eyes, they would have slanted at the beastwoman. “Very funny.”

“I like to think so, yes.”

Adiane felt a spark in the air and grimaced. “Boomtower, Shrike. I better not turn around and see you glaring at each other.”

“HE’S the one lookin’ at ME…” Boomtower muttered.

“I. Am. Not,” Shrike affirmed with a snarl.

“HEY!” Shion ran up in between the two, hands on her hips. “I said we’re gonna BEHAVE on this mission! No infighting or arguing until we find someone who can help big sis!”

“Then tell HIM to stop looking at me with those big green eyes of his!” Boomtower rasped.

It was true: Shrike’s eyes were still glowing an insidious, intimidating emerald.

“Zombot. Come on. No fighting.”

“He never said he was sorry for what he had done.”

“Maybe…” Shion replied quietly. This WAS true. Boomtower never verbally apologized for his actions. “...But he’s here to save sis. Make amends and stuff. That’s enough for me.”

Shrike let out a contemplative hum, which sounded more like rusted gears grinding against each other. His eyes dimmed. “Very well.”

“So glad you all got that out of your systems,” Zurgane huffed. “Now maybe one of YOU can read this infernal map and get us in the right direction already!”

“Calm your jets, battle boy.” Adiane flicked her tail around, stinger skating right by the ninja warrior’s masked face as she stepped up to the map. She studied it for a moment, eye darting around, matching the symbols with the index provided. “So. Looks like we’re close to the center portion of the campus.”

Her tail jabbed towards a particular building just a short walk ahead of them. It opened up like a wide U, the central tower lining up perfectly symmetrical behind it. “THAT is the main building where all grades have classes in, as well as the student council room.” Her mouth creased curiously. “Apparently they have something called the Suggestion Box there.”

“Perhaps we can suggest them to make these maps easier to read for certain individuals,” Octoroo snickered.

“Maybe we can SUGGEST calamari for LUNCH TIME!” Zurgane roared.

Octoroo yelped, scuttling behind Shrike.

“You really should learn to keep your trap shut,” Boomtower mumbled.

“That’s RICH coming from you, oo ah,” Octoroo hissed.

“Uh. Hey, you. Um. Guys? You all lost or something?”

A sudden, new voice from behind caught the Federation members’ attention. They all swiveled, finding two students, a boy and a girl, both clad in the academy’s verdant green uniform. The boy had blond, spiky hair, a bit unruly for a traditional Japanese student, like a delinquent being forced to reform his ways. He was carrying a stack of notebooks about half his height. The girl had flowing locks of brown, tied up into a long ponytail, and glasses over studious, purple eyes. Both of them wore armbands, each a lighter shade of green. The boy’s read “General Affairs Manager;” the girl’s “Treasurer.”

“Oh shoot. Busted already!” Shion yelped.

“You’d figure with a campus this size, we’d have been noticed sooner,” Zeltrax pointed out.

“Not helping!”

The boy, the one who had spoken, raised a brow. “You guys from a different school or something? I didn’t hear about any other campuses making visits today.” He looked to his companion. “Did you?”

She shook her head. “Not that I’m aware of.” Her eyes narrowed at the team. “A little suspicious to see so many people out and about during classes. Especially with such… unique attire.”

“U-Uh no, um… well about that…” Shion stuttered. It wasn’t like she couldn’t talk to people. She liked to gab just like everyone else. It had just been so long since she had to solve a problem without the use of her fists that was messing with her. That was always Kanon’s expertise.

Chris’s suggestion soon popped into her mind. “Uh… yeah! We’re, um, with the Cosplay Club! Or, maybe we’re trying to start up the Cosplay Club? Yeah, one of those!”

Boomtower lurched his arms forward in dismay. “Oh we’re so doomed.”

The boy looked at each of the members, top to bottom, his eyes… oddly NOT suspicious in the slightest. “Huh. Odd that you’re forming a club this late into the semester, but that’s fine. Definitely grade A craftsmanship on those suits, that’s for sure. I think Kouki is into that toku stuff.”

“Toku what?” came a collectively confused, four person reply.

“Uhhh…”

“It’s true,” the girl sighed. “He fancies Ultraman over the other kinds, if I remember correctly.”

“Who the heck is Ultraman?” Boomtower co*cked his head.

“I dunno, but I already don’t like him,” Zurgane gruffed.

“Hopefully there isn’t a team of multiple variations of him, oo ah!” Octoroo blubbered.

“Don’t mind them. WE’RE the brains of the outfit here,” Adiane cut in, trying to take attention away from the brainless muscle. “Shion here and I wanted to make sure the club’s initiation went smoothly. The others here simply testing the functionality of their costumes. Making sure the terrain on campus isn’t too unwieldy.”

“Terrain?” The glasses-eyed girl raised a brow.

“Ohhh, gotcha. I get that. My mom has a habit of showing up here every once and a while. Make sure I’m staying on top of things. Such a pain.” The boy faltered. “Not saying that YOU’RE a pain, of course.”

Anger veins popped over Adiane’s forehead.

“Hehehe…” Shion snickered. “Thanks for everything, mama.”

“DO NOT. EVEN. START.”

The brunette sighed again. “Very smooth, Zenkichi.” She turned back to the team, pulling on her armband. “Well. You’re in luck, strange and dubious Cosplay Club I’ve never heard of until now. I’m Mogana Kikaijima, Secretary of the Student Council. My clueless friend here is the General Affairs Manager, Zenkichi Hitoyoshi. We were just on our way back to the Student Council’s office. We’ve got plenty of copies of club registration forms there, and the student council president just so happens to have an open schedule today.”

Zenkichi smiled. “She’s always idolized superheroes and justice doers when she was a kid, so you’ll probably win her over for those outfits.” His smile dropped a little afterwards. “Kouki too, I suppose. Either way, definitely can see you getting approved right then and there.”

“Right…” Zeltrax mumbled. “Heroes…”

“Could you do that for us?” Shion clasped her hands, getting close to Zenkichi, wide-eyed. “Show us the way to the Student Council Room, that is?”

“I don’t see a problem with that,” Zenkichi replied. “Do you, Kikaijima?”

“No, though I advise that those of you in costume move quietly as you can, or remain outside the building entirely,” the secretary advised. “Students are still taking classes.”

“Ah, c’mon, there’s no harm. No one will even notice them.”

Boomtower looked to Zurgane, who then looked to Zeltrax. Octoroo was the one who piped up, “We’ll be on our best behavior, oo ah!”

“Man, really dedicated to your roles, aren’t you?” Zenkichi laughed.

“What is this guy, an idiot?” Zurgane muttered under his breath.

“Just roll with it, I guess,” Boomtower urged.

Kikaijima sighed. “Ever the lax one, aren’t you? Even with… THAT guy still out and about, causing trouble.”

Zenkichi’s mood shifted, a heavyset frown appearing. “Yeah, well… I try not to talk or think about him. Puts my mood down, and the prez’s.”

“What guy?” Shion looked back and forth from both students, genuinely curious.

“Just… a bully, you could say. Causing some problems for the Student Council. Especially the prez. Really the whole school at the moment. But don’t worry about him. Let us handle it.”

“Let me at him!” Boomtower, for the first time since the incident back at the castle, actually boomed, punching a fist into an open palm. “I’ll squash him flat!”

The sharp eyed Kikaijima fixed him with a glare. “No. You won’t. Fighting is prohibited on school grounds, and will be met with disciplinary action.”

“You don’t-!” He began, before finding the annoyed stares of his fellows all around him. Boomtower promptly doubled back. “Right. School rules. My bad.”

“We couldn’t ask guys from the regular student body to go in like that anyway,” Zenkichi sighed, as if his very spirit was being sucked out the longer they lingered on this topic.

“Zenkichi…” Kikaijima muttered.

“Oooooah? How curious…” Octoroo chortled quietly to himself.

The blonde shook his head, flashing an attempt at a smile. “Anyway, let’s show these guys to the prez so they can get back to… whatever classes they probably should be at right now.”

“Okay!” Shion punched a fist into the air, beginning to frog march right behind the two student council members as they made for the central classroom building.

“Shion.” Shrike rasped. “Isn’t there something else you should ask them?”

“Huh?” The Coppelion’s eyes were like question marks.

“Something IMPORTANT.”

“O-OH! Y-Yeah, you’re right!”

Shion whipped around, clamping a hand down on Zenkichi’s shoulder. His response was fast and fluid; spinning about to knock the Coppelion’s hand away and taking up a defensive stance. It was almost mechanical, the more battle trained members of the team noticed.

After a beat of staring back at the equally surprised Kanon, Zenkichi laughed awkwardly. “Sorry about that! I’ve been grabbed enough times that it's become an involuntary reaction on my part.”

“N-No! My bad, I didn’t mean to spook you.” She really hadn’t. She also hadn’t meant to use any of her enhanced strength to snatch at him, but he was able to get out of her grip within seconds. That was impressive in its own right.

…this was also the first time in a while she was talking to a boy around her same age-range. And… a pretty alright looking one at that.

“Oh man, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to catch you off guard like that.”

“W-Wha? Me? Upset?” Shion shook her head profusely. “No, I’m fine!”

“Are you sure? You’re all red.”

“N-No way! Couldn’t be!”

She was, though.

“Zenkichi!” Kikaijima snapped. “Look at this mess you’ve made now!”

Sure enough, the boy’s reaction to Shion’s grip forced him to all but abandon the litany of documents he had been holding. Now they lay, fallen and scattered across the ground.

“Aw crap,” Zenkichi slammed a hand across his face. “That one’s on me.”

“Oh dear!” Adiane’s scorpion tail slid in between the two, the beastwoman taking hold of Shion’s shoulder and forcing her back a few steps. She placed a hand across the Coppelion’s forehead, tutting, “That little bit of excitement must have been too much for you, my dear. You’re just a tad warmer than usual. It must be that strange, one-of-a-kind illness that only afflicts you and your SISTER.”

“This is NEVER gonna work,” Zurgane muttered.

“Not with THAT attitude!” Octoroo hissed back.

“My, if only we knew the way to the nurse’s office. Surely a school of this prestige has some prodigy doctor among its halls,” Adiane went on.

If Kikaijima wasn’t suspicious before, she sure was now. “Just who exactly ARE you all? I’m starting to think that-”

“T-The Cosplay Club, like we said!” Shion blurted out. “A-And r-really, it’s my big sister that is the main head of us, and she’d be here to do this… with me… but… but…”

The image of Kanon hooked up to those machines back at the base, pale as a ghost, flashed into her mind. Her body froze up, heart clenched at the mere thought of it.

“She’s sick… and…”

This time, it was Shion feeling an unexpected hand upon her shoulder. She looked to find Zenkichi beaming down at her. “Looking out for your older sister, huh. That’s really commendable of you.”

Shion blushed hard. “Uh, well, um… it’s nothing, really-!”

“How’s about this?” Zenkichi jabbed a thumb in the opposite direction. “We just so happen to know a couple wizzes who know a thing or two about fixing people up. One’s kinda odd and the other’s… prickly, but I can’t think of anyone else on campus who knows the human body any better than them.”

“H-Hold on!” Kikaijima jabbed a finger at him. “You’re not leaving me with this mess! At least help me pick it all-!”

But it was too late. Zenkichi was already off on a sprint. “It’s fiiiiiine! You guys don’t need me to do paperwork anywaaaaaaay!”

All the Federation members cast looks of uncertainty and bewilderment at one another. In the end, though, three acted on instinct: Shion, Adiane, and Shrike all hoofed it behind Zenkichi, leaving Zurgane, Zeltrax, Boomtower, and Octoroo in the dust. The latter of which yelped after them: “W-Where do you think you’re going without us, ooooh ahhh?”

“You guys impress the president with your “costumes,” and we’ll figure stuff out on OUR end!” Shion laughed. She ended up stumbling over her own foot, but Shrike was there to catch her, pulling her up into a princess carry. “Oh, thanks zombot!”

“It’s Shrike,” he muttered.

“Behave yourselves, boys! Or mama’s going to be REALLY UPSET when she gets back!” Adiane warned them with a laugh.

The group of armor-clad warriors, plus a blubbering Octoroo and a despondent Kikaijima, shouted after them, their collective cries of disapproval left in the dust.

After a good run that significantly separated the two parties, Shion had the bright idea to finally ask, “Um. So. Where ARE we going?”

She received her answer in just a short while, after what seemed like trekking across most of the campus. A particularly old looking school building on the far end of the academy. It looked like it’d fit better at a steel mill than an educational institution, what with its odder architecture and paint job. Maybe it was just the name, but the others could feel a significant feeling of gloom coming from within the building.

“This is Ghost Babel,” Zenkichi began, though he looked just as perplexed as the others. “Honestly, I’ve really only been here a few times. Did some extensive body training to fight a different bully hanging around the school.”

“Spoooooooky…” Shion said, taking a gander of the rust-colored building after Shrike put her down. “Reminds me of the castle.”

“The what?”

“Uhhhh- home! I mean home. Where we live.”

Adiane used the broadside of her stinger to bop Shion in the back of the head. “Don’t go calling our home a dump now, DEAR.”

Shion scowled. “Whatever, MOM.”

“YOU-!”

“Settle. Down.” Shrike grumbled.

“You don’t give the orders here!”

“You guys really are into your roles, aren’t you?” said Zenkichi, wondering if it was paper mâché or some kind of animatronic that got the older woman’s tail to move. He wasn’t about to ask, though, given the owner’s temperament.

Despite the hard-edged exterior and horror short story worthy name, the inside of Ghost Babel wasn't much different from any other school building. Really, now that Shion got a look inside, she had to do the impossible and bite her tongue not to say anything. It made the military science academy she and Kanon trained at to hone their Coppelion powers look like a dump. Second hand. With every passing polished window, every sleek looking classroom, she grew more annoyed. An entire building, wasting away, abandoned on a whole other world, while she and her kind were stuck molded to be weapons for an uncaring government. Expendable weapons, at that.

A firm, cold hand gripped her shoulder. She whirled around to stare, feeling ready to punch the teeth out of whoever touched her, only to decompress as she met the other’s cool, green gaze. “W-What?”

“You are agitated,” Shrike told her.

“No I’m not.”

“Your expression says otherwise.”

“So what?”

“Do not let anything blind you. Not anger. Not sorrow,” the Stalker advised. It was hypocritical of him to say, considering his past. The festering wound left when Hester deserted him, the white-hot rage that engulfed every waking minute of that betrayal. It had consumed the dead man, dragging him further and further until he had truly become the monster he was now. Had Hester’s feelings of renewed life ever reached him, he wondered if death would have even stopped him.

Perhaps he was like the necromech scientist. He simply did not want to see the same fate be repeated in someone else. Someone who actually cared.

“Keep to the promise,” he breathed. “The promise to your sister.”

Shion’s breathing hitched. The anger didn’t ebb away, not really. Just morph with clarity. Yes. It WAS a waste of time thinking about anything that didn’t factor into the mission. Anything that didn’t lead to a future where Kanon was healthy and by Shion’s side again. If the wasted riches of this abandoned, underutilized academy REALLY still bothered her… she and a whole swarm of Federation people could return later and raze the school to the ground.

AFTER Kanon was safe.

Shion blinked away the stray remnants of what almost became tears. “O-Okay.”

It was then that Shrike felt a tap on HIS shoulder. He found a chuckling Adiane wearing a very mocking grin. “Look at you. The robot uncle who cared.”

“You mock as though the same will not happen to you.”

“Me? Ha! That’s a laugh,” Adiane sneered. “A willing protege is more trouble than it's worth.”

“You speak from experience?”

The scorpion woman sniffed. “Wouldn’t you like to know.” She wasn’t exactly in the mood to relive memories of a certain failure of a servant that kept barking, over and over again, to serve at her every whim. She wondered if HE survived that blast as well…

Great. Now she WAS thinking about him. Now she was going to be in an even fouler mood than she already was.

“Tell you what. We drop this discussion right now, and if the day comes where I ever DO get a worthy apprentice, I’ll… I don’t know. Pay to have all your parts refitted to gold. Or let you pilot the Sayrune 2.0 for a mission.”

“I will hold you to that.”

Despite all their chatter, Zenkichi never once questioned them. Either completely in the belief that everything they said was part of some bit involving this club they’ve fabricated into being, or having completely deduced their lie and faked ignorance to eavesdrop. Whatever little good that would do for him, given the lack of substantial information about the Federation.

Either way, he led them to a classroom a few stories up in the building. The sign hanging from above the doorway plainly read “LAB” even though it looked no different from any other room they had previously passed.

“Now, don’t be alarmed with who’s inside, no matter who it is. Again, one’s odd… okay, they’re BOTH odd, but he’s more so. I think. And the other is prickly. And has an… interesting look to her. Don’t be alarmed when you see her.”

Adiane pointed at Shrike. “We hang around with HIM on a daily basis. I think we’ll be fine.”

Shrike replied with a low growl, but nothing more.

“Fair enough… I guess?”

With that, Zenkichi opened the door and stepped inside. “Yo, anyone in here?”

Shion, Adiane, and Shrike entered behind the blonde, finding a completely repurposed classroom. Partially a study, with multiple leaning towers of textbooks, papers, and folders struggling to stay upright covering a desk, spilling out onto the floor and even engulfing the swivel chair there. Majorly a nurse’s office-turned-laboratory, with every piece of scientific equipment possible visible, most notably sharp tools for dissection and sample collection.

And in the center of the room, turning to face the invaders in her domain, was a student - at least, if the white sailor uniform with the school’s insignia on her sleeve was anything to go by. One would be forgiven from being unsure, considering it would be her bandaged face that drew gazes, rather than her attire, though the sleek blue leggings (which was actually a full bodysuit underneath the regular clothing) were a choice. For it was amid that myriad of mummy-like cloth that cut through short, spiky azure hair and obscured most of her face, leaving openings only for her mouth and her left eye, that one other unique piece of apparel stood out: a knife, jutting right out somewhere right above where her right eye would be.

Youka Naze glared at Zenkichi and his three tag-alongs. “Of course I’m here. This is MY room, after all. What do you want?”