After a bit of faffing about contingencies and plans were made in regards to the split and everyone was sorted into groups and heading off. Bowser was a little sad to see Blazermate go off with the other group, though he’d never admit it, even to himself. You don’t get patched back together by someone as often as Bower had by the robo medic without a small bit of sentimental attachment forming. However with the teleporter slowly spinning around on the back of the Bowser Mobile it was not like the other squad was really that far away travel time wise.

A few experiments with an unwilling Rabbid test subject before they set off proved that fact rather nicely.

Bowser’s own party included his family of course, but also, among others, the hamster and his magical girl robot, the robotized dancer on her goat, the lady link and finally the mercenary courier. That final member was proving to be the most unreliable of the bunch as he had decided to now raise the issue of payment for future services. After the king’s growled argument that he’d paid for the cowboy's tab was shot down by a “I didn't ask you to do that so it doesn't count” their argument was interrupted by the currior’s radio suddenly airing an unexpected news segment. Bowser was pleased to hear about himself on it, however briefly, and was also pleased to hear that Kamek had a suggestion. The old wizard floated along beside him on his broom and whispered into the King’s ear while ‘Mr. New Vegas’ chattered on.

”THE GUARDIAN’S SPRITE. THERE’S NO WAY YOU'RE GETTING IT ON YOUR OWN AND NOBODY ELSE IS GOING TO HELP YOU GET IT FIRST.” the king offered, repeating Kamek’s exact wording.

Eventually, after half a day traveling through the barren wastes between zones, they reached fertile grounds once more. While the land of Adventure was not quite as fantastical an area as the one around Peach's castle it did still host a number of colorful creatures, from cubic cows to horse sized running birds and strange flying giraffe trees. The Koopa Troop took this in on the move, continuing onward towards the town that would be their starting point for the subsequent expedition into the land of Adventures.

The journey was mostly uneventful until they passed particularly close by one herd of cows. Jr’s clown car, which had up until then been rolling along the ground in kart mode, suddenly took off. It turned quickly in the air as its mouth open up and out of this new hole a stubby cannon emerged. With a mischievous ”ha ha” jr punched a newly added button on the car’s control panel, causing a half inflated balloon to be spat from the cannon’s mouth, rocking the car back in recoil. The balloon then rapidly inflated as if flew out, becoming a flaming clown face like the one that had been fired by the sweet tooth back during the tiled road fight. The smaller homing fireball hurtled through the air until it struck an unfortunate clown, killing the hapless beast instantly in a small fiery explosion.

”I’m hungry” the boy explained before anyone could ask as he landed the kart and then rolled it over to his kill in-order to fetch his prize.

”And what else are the souls going to turn into other than beef?” he asked as he crushed the cubic cow’s sprite.

Bowser merely grinned at this display and kept moving, but the old Wizard Kamek was less amused.

”Young master, I am not entirely sure it is wise to go around killing and eating the spirits of strange cube shaped livestock.” chided Kamek from atop his broomstick.

”You’ve been eyeing those banana chinned dino’s since we spotted them.” jr talked back as he remounted his clown car.

”and you don't see me chasing after them now do you.” the old wizard retorted. When jr simply inclined his head a little to insinuate that maybe he should Kamek added ”and the effort required to do so would outweigh the energy provided by even the most delectable tropical fruit. Really young master, you simply must learn patience. We are, afterall, almost at our destination.”

And indeed they were. It only took a couple more minutes for them to arrive at the gates of the small town. The locals where guarded at first sending a quiet gang of jr heroes out to face them down, but once it became clear that Bowser had no interest in burning the town down, yet, they were allowed inside. They were, however, forced to leave their vehicles outside. Jr elected to stay behind, having more interest in working on his car than wandering around some rustic town, and so he and the remaining Rabbids became their ones keeping an eye on the convoy’s remaining vehicles.

After leaving the prince to his tools the king and his aged advisor walked through the streets of the town, watchful eyes following their every move, till they reached the guild hall. As soon as they had heard of its existence Kamek had advised they had there to find out more about the area. ”If anyone knows where the strongest being in this land is it will be them, be it a beast to be hunted or a hero in their employ.”.

The pair made their way inside, Bowser having shrunk down to fit inside, and headed for the smartly dressed woman sat behind the counter who looked to be in charge or at least in the know. They ignored the additional stares they received, having drawn a ton of attention already for their beastly appearance. Had Bowser come in his normal unaltered state blades might well have been dawn, but as it was the suited turtle and his robbed companion were as much a curiosity to the adventurers as they were a potential concern.

”YOU. WHERE’S THE BIGGEST, BADDEST, MOST DANGEROUS MONSTER IN THIS PLACE?” The king demanded to know, getting right to the point.

”If I may add too/clarify to your request sire,” Kamek quickly interjected in an attempt to not immediately sour relations with their first source of information ”We are here on a… quest of sorts, to slay the mightiest monsters in every realm of this new reality. Having just arrived to this one, we’d like to know more about it and where, perhaps, to start our search.”

Donnie's heart sank as he followed the van on his Disc. He should have known from the name "Dead Zone." He had thought it was merely a barren wasteland. That would have been par for the course. Instead, it was chock-full of ghouls and what looked like man-sized insects with vaguely humanoid features.

But it was mainly the undead he was concerned about. The Plague of Undeath, also known as the Blight, had not only killed his whole family while he was on the Wandering Isle, but it had nearly wiped out all life on his world. It still would have, if the Jailer of the Damned didn't exist. He did not hate the Forsaken, unlike most humans, but that did not mean he didn't take their more mindless cousins extremely seriously.

Some of the undead he was used to dealing with were armed with weapons, protected by armor, or even remembered some magical techniques from their former lives. But even the more mindless ghouls were capable of overwhelming an experienced opponent. There was a reason that, from the things he'd read, the Scourge had used them as shock troops. And that wasn't even getting into the diseases they could carry. Or the smell.

He didn't remember Detox. Catching something from one of those zombies could be disastrous. All in all, it reminded him far too much of the Plaguelands, and the Northrend conflict. The worst part was that he hadn't been adventuring at the time that war was fought, and didn't have nearly as much experience in this scenario. This could be bad.

Of course, he'd have to be blind to not also notice that Nico drove like a drunken dwarf going for a joyride in a stolen steam tank. While it definitely killed a lot of zombies (and shoving her still-burning cigarette into a bug's face was a nice touch), he was more worried for the integrity of the car. Shouldn't the windshield at least have been smashed in by this point? It had to be made out of sterner stuff than it looked.

Then the car had to stop at an intersection where there had likely been some kind of pile-up. Nero got out of the car, brandishing some kind of sword, and ordered them to deal with the zombies while he cleared out the insects.

Frankly, he'd probably have been more comfortable with those disgusting things than the zombies, but he was professional enough to know when to defer to the person with the most experience. Unlike Jak, Daxter, Ratchet, and Clank, who went completely gung-ho, he was going to stick to the plan.

"Very well!" he said to the demon hunter as he flew into the fray, Fists unsheathed. The first zombie didn't even have time to react before it was decapitated, the corpse falling over and leaving a Spirit behind. Quick as a flash, he grabbed it.

Well, this was what he was dreading: Holding an enemy's Spirit. He instantly decided that later on, he'd turn it into an object. Better than absorbing it, or worse, making it a Striker and potentially spreading diseases around when it attacked people. If there was something similar to the Blight responsible for this, he didn't want to be responsible for spreading it further.

He continued to fly around, rapidly slicing through his victims efficiently and mercilessly. It was as he was bearing down on his thirty-first target, however, that something slimy grabbed a hold of his left gauntlet. The tongue, as he soon discovered it was, was pulling with significant force, possibly enough to pull him off the Disc if he hadn't grabbed onto the flying artifact by hooking his right elbow over the edge of the Disc and clinging for dear life. He could have tried slicing it, but with both hands occupied, that was a bad idea. Instead, he tried something more creative. And fun.

He gunned the Disc, zooming across the street and dragging whatever it was behind him. He heard the sound of it being agonizingly pulled along the pavement, and risking a look back, he saw it was some kind of zombie with several growths on its head, growths that were bursting under the friction and releasing some kind of foul green gas as it left a trail of blood in its wake.

Having completely overpowered this long-tongued zombie, he gained altitude slightly and sent the zombie careening into a nearby group of undead, bowling them over, followed by intentionally crashing the zombie's face into the side of a nearby truck in a collision powerful enough to shatter its skull, send it flopping to the ground, and break the tongue as Donnie flew on, getting back to his feet.

Turning back to the gathering of ghouls that were attempting (poorly) to pull themselves back up after the Smoker-collision had knocked them into a loose pile, Donnie sheathed his handblades and fired a few Chi Bursts down at the crowd, blasting them to bloody giblets.

Unfortunately, it seemed that all the mayhem had attracted one of the insects away from Nero's gang, and it quickly entered his personal space, attempting to claw his face off. Donnie retaliated by grabbing its forelegs before they could meet his exposed jaw and throwing the thing over his shoulder, holding the shrieking insect off the edge of the Disc. He then stomped on its face, over and over, until the disgusting mockery of an insect stopped moving, before he dropped the inert corpse to the ground below, where the force of its impact caved in the roof of the car it landed on.

Ugh. I hate bug-monsters. They remind me of the mantids, Donnie thought to himself as he finished collecting the Spirits he had taken through rapid use of the Luggage (and grabbing the first zombie's Spirit item from where had dropped it), and unsheathed the Fists again, prepared to kill more zombies.

While the duo idly waited for the others to gather, they noticed--as it would be difficult not to--the builder bot setting up contraptions in the bed of their kart. The question of what the first one was answered itself with the help of a lesser Rabbid popping out of it… repeatedly, whereas the second was largely self-explanatory, obviously being an automated gun of some kind. The latter would no doubt come in handy to save them some of the work having to fight off whatever they run into while they drive, even if it did impede their frontal view somewhat. As she looked to lay down her third machine, she decided to strike up conversation with them for the first time since encountering one another, having not been formally introduced up to that point.

“Nice to meet you, Blazermate,” Banjo offered, returning her greeting. “I guess we’re doing okay. Thanks for helping us out back there, by the way.” Banjo had mostly forgotten about the events at the castle and their indirect involvement in them, and as Blazer had observed, they haven’t taken much of a hit since then. Thus, they’ve not needed her services and were otherwise unaware of what they were. To accompany her question to them about their reasons for diverging, she casually talked of “parts” and “upgrades” being her own.

“Why not do that here, then?” Kazooie suggested bluntly, referring to the fact that she was a machine about to leave a machine shop in search of practical self-improvement. “Wouldn’t that make more sense for you?”

“Oh hello Banjo.” Blazermate said at Banjo’s friendly greeting as she found a spot for her dispenser. As it built, she replied to Kazooie. “I’m a Medabot. Parts for me are a bit different than normal robots. For starters, nothing they had here was compatible with my medal, so it wouldn’t work.” Blazermate pointed to Din, who was heading off to the Land of Adventure “These spirits are compatible though! Heck, they’re even better than Medabot parts, as they let me fill slots that aren’t my arms, feet, or head. Not that I’d ever wanna give up such a cute face.” She said, striking a cute pose, which admittedly, was lessened because of her engineering overalls.

Kazooie did get Blazermate thinking, with the engineer soul inside her and her knowledge of being a medabot, why couldn’t she make her own upgrades? Even if they were only weapons she could hold, she had everything at her disposal in the form of scrap metal and a dispenser to craft things. And she hadn’t really given it a try, so she decided she would see what she could do when the dispenser was fully upgraded.

“How about you two? Are you looking forward to all the things spirits can do for you?” Blazermate said, her dispenser fully erected. All that was left for her to do now was upgrade it all the way, so she started hammering away at it with her fist, trying to keep the noise down so she could hear what everyone was saying.

“Y’know, I haven’t thought about it much, really,” Banjo replied. “This whole ‘spirits’ thing is kinda new to us. We didn’t even know about it until today.” Although they’ve been witness to plentiful demonstration of spiritual fusion within a matter of hours, they had yet to encounter any spirits that they could call dibs on that they would be okay with using, let alone one that would be suitable for them. That being said, it was hard to deny the apparent utility and appeal of them. Kazooie--envious of Din--would certainly agree.

“Hmm… Come to think of it, we too could use some ‘upgrades’ of our own,” Kazooie admitted. “Plus, it’d be nice to learn some new moves on top of our old ones… after we learn those again.” A tinge of frustration from her came out at the last part. Having to trek their way through a new, more perilous world with a fraction (or less) of their overall moveset carried over was certainly less than ideal, and they weren’t likely to run into someone who could ‘teach’ new techniques to them.

“As long we don’t have to steal them,” Banjo conceded. “I don’t wanna assimilate anyone who isn’t okay with it.” He was unsure how to work around the moral complications of the act, but understood the need to at the very least keep an open enough mind to entertain the idea, in recognition of their limitations. Time wouldn’t allow him to dwell on it before the new party were given their orders from the two leading them onward, setting off posthaste. The pair could put off contemplating the moral/philosophical implications of ‘spirit upgrades’ until such time as it became relevant or necessary for them to do so.

It didn’t take long for them to receive their first ominous sign that they were on the right track. A sheet of murky, unnatural cloud cover obscured the sun and sky the closer to the dead city they got, blanketing it under a false cover of night. Some ways down the road, after crossing over into the city limits, pre-mission discussion briefly resumed.

“So what is that you’re building, anyway?” Banjo inquired of the medabot, who had spent the entire drive working away diligently on her contraptions.

Blazermate listened to the pair talk as they drove, hammering away at her dispenser. The pair seemed to be at odds about what they wanted out of the spirits. Kazooie was right alongside Blazermate at getting upgrades, Banjo however was apprehensive. Seeing this, Blazermate said. “I’m glad I didn’t lose too many Medabot upgrades coming here. Only thing I’m missing right now is my heavy armored jet form. And to be honest, I rarely used that anyway. Don’t worry too much about the spirits Banjo. You only collect them from defeated enemies.”

Finishing upgrading her dispenser, Blazermate continued. “As for this, it’s a dispenser. It dispenses ammo and you can use it to craft stuff. It also heals anyone next to it. And as you guessed, the gun shoots things, and the teleporter… teleports people. Speaking of shooting people… Do you guys hear something up ahead?”

Ahead, zombies were outside the entrance to Redgraccoon City. As the cars whizzed past them, Blazermate’s Sentry beeped thrice in quick succession, before locking onto whatever zombie was near the automated gun and mowed it down with a barrage of bullets and rockets. Seeing as how these were standard zombies, the sentry made quick work of each one it could as the trolley drove by. “Haha, Man this thing is showing its worth, huh?” Blazermate said as she saw the devastation her automated gun did to the hordes of zombies. Due to the high volume of fire, Blazermate had to hit her sentry from time to time to reload its ammo, having the sentry run out of ammo in the middle of the zombie hordes would be a really bad thing.

All the while, Banjo tried to stay behind the van as it bulldozed its way through the clusters of lesser undead that got in it its way to avoid inadvertently using any of them as a speed bump himself, which, even without the distractions, proved a challenge on its own on account of the woman’s reckless driving (to put it mildly). The Trolley rocked on its wheels with every turn in its driver’s desperate attempt to keep up without rolling over. Luckily, Blazer’s sentry took some of the pressure off by making meat of those that even so much as looked their way--and then some. It couldn’t look everywhere at once, however, so there were a few stragglers that managed to wander uncomfortably close to Banjo. In the case that any made it onto the kart or within arm’s reach, Kazooie would pop out and jab at them with her beak to knock them off, if not to pieces.

It wasn’t long before they started spotting fiercer-looking creatures, the first couple of which the man riding shotgun in the van made effortless work of with astonishing ease and efficiency (with a hint of style). The party shortly arrived at a four-way intersection replete with abandoned vehicles and the shambolic remains of an attempted roadblock where more zombies and demons alike awaited them in greater numbers. They all rolled to a stop in the middle of everything, not terribly far behind the black quartet on their trail, and the white-haired man stepped out of the van, brought out a pristine, impressive looking greatsword, and called dibs on the demons that were previously minding their own business. The more trigger happy of their pack didn’t like that idea, so they opened fire indiscriminately into the crowd in spite of the demon hunter’s order. Regardless, everyone got to work.

Blazermate’s Sentry, being in a target rich environment, never stopped firing while Banjo navigated the trolley through the town as they followed the van. Even when they stopped at the crossroads, seeing as it still had targets in its range, it bombarded whatever was closest to it with its rapid fire miniguns and its quad rocket launcher which kept the group relatively safe within the sentry’s range. “I almost feel bad for the zombies… almost.” Blazermate said as she kept the sentry gun stocked up, but mostly just watched the carnage it caused alongside watching her ‘allies’ in the van doing what they were doing. Why that man with the sword wanted to get into melee range of slow moving zombies that looked frankly disgusting was beyond her. Leaning over to Kazooie, Blazermate said. ”500 zenny says he comes out a disgusting mess. Dunno why anyone would get close to these things.”

”Then you probably don’t want to look over here,” Kazooie quipped at Blazermate’s protest to an up close approach, knowing full well that her and Banjo would have to do exactly that. Being all but dry on ammo to join the firing squad or supply to do anything else, the duo were left to take care of the horde that crept up on the team from their flanks. Banjo leapt from the seat of the Trolley, and Kazooie opened with her Rat-a-tat Rap before Banjo’s feet hit the ground to knock off the first couple of zombies. Then, she tucked her wings around him as he dove forward into a rolling attack to bowl through the next few in a crooked line. He fluidly rose to his feet, already grabbing for the straps of his backpack while slipping it off to swing it around him in a whole spin and a half as a clumsy bludgeoning weapon--with Kazooie’s marginal weight addition increasing the force--to repel or dispatch the surrounding undead that were closing in on them. In the same motion, he threw his pack back on and kept going, front kicking one zombie away only for another to catch him by surprise when it grappled at him. He caught it just in time to enter it and himself in a clinch, but even for a burly specimen like Banjo, this simple fiend had a surprising amount of might behind it for its size and condition; perhaps more than most normal people could handle.

Even though Banjo likely boasted more than enough strength to force off his attacker on his own, Kazooie decided to chime in with two pecks to the creature’s face, granting her partner a clear opening to drive his shoulder into its abdomen (what was left of it) and force it into his grasp. He then proceeded to attempt using the living carcass as a battering ram as he continued charging forward through as many of the still standing horde as he could before having to discard his unwilling weapon. At that point, he would spin, grabbing the shouldered corpse by the ankles and slinging it at a row of its own to try and take them out. Regardless of the quality of his good work, the ursine wasn’t spared a second to dust his hands off before he felt himself suddenly being jerked back by a constricting tether tightening around his neck. He stumbled into a forced turnaround to get a look at its source--a different, special type of zombie--whilst instinctively grasping at the loops of tongue that strangled him and pulling away to stop himself being drawn in, but to no avail. His feet slowly slid along the asphalt despite his resistance until he stopped at a concrete barrier that he could plant one foot on, which unfortunately served to worsen the constriction.

Sensing that her partner was in trouble, Kazooie emerged and began jabbing at the monster’s tongue to force it to let go, or at the very least loosen its grip. In either case, Banjo would start grabbing extra lengths and wrapping them by segments at a time around his arms, shoulders, and torso to try pulling it to him until he had enough leverage to yank the Smoker off its feet. If he succeeded, he would let it fly past him to unravel himself while Kazooie grabbed a hold of the end of its tongue to try sending it into elastic rebound. He would then punch it away repeatedly with every return (possibly into other zombies), like a balloon tied to a rubber band, before smacking it down into the concrete with an overhead swing on the final hit and finishing it off with a Breegull Bash. Smoke would begin rapidly rising from the creature's remains, swelling into a vile green haze that the duo moved to find themselves out of as quickly as possible. Banjo stepped from the gaseous fog, coughing, with a fading spirit in his hand that him and Kazooie eyed curiously for a second before closing his fist around it to see if he couldn’t crush it into something useful… hopefully.

Blazermate could only roll her eyes at seeing the bear and bird combo running off into the frey. ”Of course. Welp, I’ll wait til my sentry cleans up more zombies before I do anything.” When the pair got pulled, She did notice that fact and went on a bit more of a defensive stance. She would need some way to make her sentry shoot the tongue of whatever thing pulled the pair. Thankfully a few moments later the pair emerged from where they were pulled. As they got in range of Blazermate’s healing beam, she put it on them, putting herself between her sentry and dispenser and using them both as cover as her sentry kept firing. They were mildly injured, but something told her things were going to get a bit tougher with all the noise that was being made.

---

Gene stayed silent in the back of the van on the trip through the Dead Zone, munching quietly on an orange. He gave a few small chuckles at Daxter's antics, but for the most part he just didn't feel in a talking mood. Too busy getting psyched up for all the demons and zombies they were about to beat down in the city... And boy howdy, were there demons and zombies to beat down.

Dead ahead were dozens, if not hundreds of zombies flooding the streets of Redgraccoon City. Some were weird... Bug demons, others were just standard undead. A sizeable chunk looked like the other generic zombies, but with different deformities. A few were big and fat, some had strange boils around their face and neck with long, slimy tongues. Gene decided that he did not want to deal with either of those two types of zombies.

Soon enough, the van came to a stop, Nero stepping out to personally deal with the bug demons. Not long after, the three duos went to work, Ratchet & Clank, Jak & Daxter, and Banjo & Kazooie, alongside the monk Donnie, going to town on zombies. There were a few rough patches and close calls, but mostly, everyone was doing okay. The robot, Blazermate if Gene recalled, was staying back to heal anyone while her sentry took down any monsters that got too close.

With a grin, Gene cracked his knuckles and stepped out of the van. "Haha! This is what I'm talking about! Time to go to town on these freaks!" Without another word, he sprinted right into the fray, throwing himself forward a roll and ramming through a group of zombies in the process. Two went down without much else, while the others went flying. Gene whipped out his Roulette Wheel, praying for a Shockwave...

The words "Divine Smash" greeted his eyes, and he charged forward, plowing through a zombie on the way to the others. Eh, close enough. Gene ran right at one of the zombies that was on the ground, and began to stomp on it repeatedly until, eventually, it died. In the meantime, however, the rest of the zombies had recovered and began to shamble towards him. So, Gene did what he always did...

He ran in and threw a right hook. He began to unleash a flurry of blows on the zombies, who were too mindless to think about blocking or dodging, making this a piece of cake. Every once in a while a zombie would lunge for him; the first time, his instincts saved him from getting pounced on, but eventually he got the hang of occasionally dodging in between combos. This was starting to seem too easy...

As if on cue, Gene heard what sounded like someone vomiting, and turned his head in the direction of the sound... Only to meet a spew of bile to the face. The smell was rancid, and the fat bastard that vomited on him looked almost pleased with his undead self. "You... YOU! THIS COAT WASN'T CHEAP, YOU JERKOFF!" He rushed towards the Boomer, delivering a flying kick to its belly...

Which promptly exploded, showering him with even more bile. On the bright side, he gained its Spirit, which looked vastly different from the other zombie spirits he'd been picking up. But that was about where the bright side ended, as now the rest of the zombies turned their attention from approaching the others... To focusing on him. Slowly, but surely, they began to shamble towards him, while a few sprinters came right at him. He defended himself rather easily against them, defeating them quickly, but considering he was stuck in the middle of a sea of undead who, mostly, were all focused dead on him, he wasn't too confident in his chances.

He only had one option... Well, two, but one would look way cooler so he decided to go with that one first.

He whipped out the Roulette again, praying for La Bomba...

The word "Grovel" appeared before him.

'No... No. No! Oh I'm so screwed...'

Against his will, Gene felt himself falling to his knees and bowing down before the undead approaching him. Needless to say, they didn't exactly give a crap about it in their mindless state. As Gene pulled himself back up, he knew there was just one thing he could do to escape...

So, he clamped a hand onto the Deistic Brace, and ripped it off, feeling the power of God flow through him. Arm glowing, Gene let loose, flying into the swarm of undead in a blur of punches and kicks. There were a few swipes and bites that got through to his body, but his skin was unbreakable; nothing could stop him when he unleashed the God Hand... Well, except another God Hand user that is. But Azel didn't seem to be around, so it was all cool!

Gene powered through the sea of zombies, eventually breaking through and winding up back in front of the van again. And just in time too! He could feel the God Hand's power draining, and he forced the Brace back onto his arm despite wanting to just cut loose and whoop ass. Luckily, Blazermate's sentry was doing a fine job on the zombies. "Jeez! Almost got my ass kicked there! Lucky I had this bad boy or I would've been done for!" He patted his bicep, staring out at the dwindling array of zombies. "God I need a shower... That fat boy vomited all over me!"

For the brief period he was with Linkle, Link seemed to be baffled. She spoke with such excitement and reverence, making him out to be a great hero, yet he knew he wasn't there yet. He didn't know whether to be bashful, proud, or what, but the end result appeared to be 'speechless'. Moving on like a whirlwind, Linkle left almost as quickly as she came, sending an entreaty before she rushed his way. Link answered her request to meet again with an energetic nod, then waved as Linkle went to help her friends. After a few more moments all the new arrivals were within Lumbridge, and the appointed guards were left to sort out their thoughts in curiosity and intrigue. Link knew one thing: if that girl liked people with his name and/or look, she'd be getting a kick out of this place.

In fact, on the other side of the Guild, another surprise lay in wait. While nothing of interest stood out to Linkle from the paddock she passed by on the way to her destination with her group, a brief journey beyond the castle would turn up another replete with birds. Anyone, but Linkle most of all, could tell the difference between chickens and cuccos.

Inside the Guild, Bowser's question scared the guildmarm half to death. In a whirl of papers she raced to answer the king koopa's question, settling at last on a contract card with a somewhat indistinct but still threatening drawing at the top. “H-here you are!” the poor woman stammered, not terribly assuaged by Kamek's interjection. “An F r-rank hunt, the toughest available right now!” So frazzled was she that she didn't even attempt to bring up the pool of bureaucracy and due process that adventurers were supposed to get through. Just handing out a dangerous quest to a bunch of newcomers not even signed up as adventurers constituted a despicable breach of professional procedure. The more she thought about it, the more the guildmarm couldn't bear to bring it up. After a few moments, against her every instinct, she cleared her voice to speak.

“S-sir!” she started, trying to get Bowser's attention. “I h-have to say, doing this is super...just, really out of line! There's a whole ranking system to go through, with certifications and such. Even the most promising newbies are supposed to start at C!” Despite her assertions, of course, the guildmarm couldn't to anything to enforce the guild's protocol.

Her situation did not go unnoticed. Well behind the counter, a robed figure turned to look with interest at the newcomers. Until now, he had evidenced no reaction to Bowser or his crew, but Kamek's words sparked a definite reaction. Walking over, he held up his hands in a show of surprise. “Weeeell, look what the cat dragged in! A whole herd of new faces, ready to put the screw to the rules and the baddest critters around, to boot!”

While anyone with half a brain could tell that outwardly the guy looked like the Master of Masters, given his garb, the fellow's manner was completely different. His voice, cheerful and quaint but with an unmistakable undertone of sleaze, harbored a certain compelling charisma, and the mystery man himself could not stop moving. Even with his features hidden, he looked every inch like an animated caricature.

The guildmarm's eyes went wide. “Guildmaster?”

Jiving up and down, he placed a white glove on the guildmarm's shoulders. She seemed to calm down, and her boss turned his attention to the others. “Now, normally it ain't how this works, but since it's a big week, I ain't afraid to make a bet or two.” He held up his other hand and twisted it about with a flourish. Nestled between his fingers were a number of cards, where none had been before. “See here, wheat? It's yer lucky number. Seven contracts, some easy, some tough. Last one's the hunt you seen already.” True to his word, the contract card given by the guildmarm moments ago was nowhere to be found but in the guildmaster's hand. One could picture the smug grin inside that hood. “In this neck o' the woods, things work a certain way, awright? You try that F-rank first, you'll be lucky to paint li'l missy Malon's new barn! Ankle on over if ya like, but don't come cryin' to me.”

He leaned forward, placing both hands on the counter. “But instead, howsabout youse folks wipe out summa these quests, huh? If I startcha at Rank C, anyone who participates in two of 'em gets to E, which ain't two shakes from F, y'know. Enough to give it to that monster but good!” Chuckling, he slid the cards across the counter, lining them up in a perfect row for inspection. “Plus, ya get all the quests' rewards. Betcha ain't seen a deal that sweet before! All I need's your Hancocks, right at the bottom.” His wiggling finger indicated one of the cards' dotted lines, where a signature or two need be signed.













Nero held back a moment before jumping into the fray, which turned out to be wise. While Ratchet display a refreshing inclination to trust the demon hunter's advice, Jak and Daxter held no such compunctions. Telling Nero that he asked them to come, which couldn't be farther from the truth, the pair just opened fire into the mobs. Nero sighed as the instant weapons discharge attracted every undead in the area immediately, also putting the empusa on guard—not that their vigilance meant much of anything to him. Worse, their aggression fired up Ratchet too, who sent a couple bombs hurtling at the empusa. The bumbling, insectoid demons took the blasts head-on and were sent sprawling to the ground, but a moment later they rose again. Jak's Morph Gun ripped through the zombie crowd next, and everyone else went to work.

From atop his hovering disc, Donnie struck down at ghoul after ghoul from a safe distance. Smart, given what Nero presumed to be a lack of immunity to whatever made these rotten wretched walk. Spending time to grab the spirits the zombies left behind left him low and open, and while it worked out for a while, he soon felt the sticky embrace of an abnormal zombie's tongue. It threatened to yank him from his ensorcelled platform and into the waiting, frothing maws of lesser undead beneath, but the monk held firm and put the disc into overdrive. One cunning maneuver later, the Smoker lay in a dubious pile against a crashed vehicle, filled the area with acrid fumes.

Nero watched as Donnie then found himself beset by an empusa, but just one presented little real threat. The fistfighter merely flipped it over and started pounding it, with Nero taking note of how many strikes it took to do the weak demon in. Even the weakest demons presented a non-insignificant challenge to conventional weaponry.

Meanwhile, Blazermate's turret plugged away the horde dutifully. It worked with mechanical precision, yet its inability to focus on more than one target at a time slowed its progress. That left Banjo and Kazooie with plenty of work to do, and despite their appearances they put their all into their closely-coordinated fighting. They dealt with a number of infected, barely avoiding bites on several occasions, and even dealing with a second Smoker that attacked from the flank without warning. In the end, the bear's instincts plus the bird's speedy pecks left the wretched thing dying in a cloud of stinging smoke. When he destroyed its spirit, Banjo received a stained paddle bat. While unremarkable, it would help make up for his lack of range, which against infectious enemies meant a world of difference.

Gene, staying away from Ratchet and Jak's wild shooting, wiped up his fair share of kills, too. His raucous brawling drew the attention of the obese shambler, however, and it vented its guts upon him in a nauseating shower. Its demise at Gene's indignant hand -or foot, rather- came next, but the Boomer left a parting gift in the form of a second helping of putrid sludge. Worse still, the smell seemed to aggravate the common zombies, the remainder of which flocked his way. Even with the efforts of his allies, Gene would have fallen beneath the onslaught were it not for the power of the God Hand. With its strength he laid waste to his attackers, their friends, and their friends' friends too. By the time he found himself back at the van, Gene had taken out the remainder of the horde thinned out by the gunners.

His foreboding words -a somber reality check- did sadly go unnoticed by Nero, who by that time took matters into his own hands. Walking with quiet confidence, the demon hunter approached the empusa. He placed one hand on the Red Queen's hilt and revved it like a motorcycle, complete with the roar of an engine and a spurt of flame. Then, in one motion, he shot forward, streaking across the pavement toward the demons to let loose a wide horizontal slash. Blood flew as his blade cut through, its force knocking the empusa down once more. Before the middle one could hit the ground, a wire hook zipped out from the elbow of Nero's prosthetic harm, buried itself in the demon's bad, and reeled it in like a fish on a line. An upward crescent slash carried it into the air, and Nero followed suit with slice after slice, hacking the demon into pieces. A final overhead blow through its body spelled its end and carried him downward into the empusa below.

The hapless demons could barely shriek before he renewed his assault. One, two, then two wide-reaching spin slashes that left them reeling. Gritting his teeth, Nero let out a cry as he extended his prosthetic hand. It thrust forward, opening up, and a burst of brilliant electricity thundered outward in a hand-shaped shockwave that blew them empusa into bloody chunks.

Exhaling, Nero turned to face the others. Everyone looked to be in one piece, with no serious injuries sustained. The gunk clinging to Gene, however, earned him a concerned look. “Yeah, get yourself cleaned. That stuff can't be healthy. Nico's got a shower in the van. After we reach the kids.”

At that moment, the vehicle rolled up, pushing through the cars and over corpses without much of a problem. Nico herself took one whiff of Gene and blached. “Wheeeew-ee! Yer one filfthy mister. I ain't havin' that stuff sittin' 'round in my van nowhere. Liable to be all kinds of diseased.”

Nero gave a sigh. “Well, we'll figure it out. First priority is that boy band.” He shook demon blood from his prosthetic and climbed in. The others could return to their vehicles if they wished, or just run up the street themselves. Nico didn't wait for them, instead forging onward in the direction of shouting and gunfire.

---

Cresting the hill brought the van onto the edge of a frenetic battle. A gigantic, swollen zombie had engaged all four, and while it sported a number of burns, oozing cuts, and bulletholes, it fought with outrageous intensity. Plain to see, the four could barely keep themselves out of its killer grip while sneaking a hit in every once in a while. Their fancy ride lay half-buried in a storefront and smoking, but right now, the Regalia was the least of their worries.

“Prompto, now!” the burly one yelled, barely wheeling out of the way of a brutal overhead slam while shearing off a chunk of gray flesh with a spinning strike. Seeing an opening, the straw-haired one fired shot after shot from his revolver, aiming for the Tank's comparatively small legs. It gave a snarl, tore a chunk of asphalt free from the street, and hurled it the gunslinger's way. Prompto dodged, and the greatswordsman, seeing his opening, made to hack at the Tank's damaged leg. But rather than chasing Prompto, the monster turned on the closer threat, poised to swat the boy's head into paste.

“Gladio!” Came a cry from afar, and in an arcane flash the messy black-haired one appeared, sinking his blade into the Tank's back. With a roar the monster reached up and threw the boy off, who tumbled across the hard ground with a yelp of pain. The Tank leaped after him, but at the last moment his target warped away, appeared near his glasses-wearing friend. “Guh!” he coughed, the wind knocked out of him. Too close, the Tank prepared to run the pair down, but a pair of bullets smashed into its shoulder from the side.

Gun smoking, Nero stepped up. He remained across the street, but now that he got a good look at it, the monster was even less pleasant than it seemed. A weird brownish patch of fleshy tumors and nodules dominated its chest and head, with red-bristled feelers extending from the mass. “Let's help 'em out,” he told his crew. “Watch your friendly fire.”

---

Soon after their conversation with Trevor had finished, Michael and Franklin prepared to hit the road once again, Michael getting into the driver's seat of the monster truck and Franklin getting back on his bike. The ride was a much more peaceful one than before, with nobody ambushing them out of nowhere. Still, the two criminals were on high alert, with Franklin driving ahead of the convoy so that he could spot any possible attackers before they struck. While most of the rabbit creatures had seemingly lost interest and left the group, the addition of the monster truck made up for the loss of manpower. Sitting at the helm of the massive machine, Michael felt confident that any attackers would be crushed beneath the truck's oversized wheels.

The terrain had also changed, the convoy leaving the desert-like area behind in favor for greener terrain. Franklin was especially thankful for the change in scenery, since it meant there would be less dust being kicked up in his face. After a quick stop to determine their destination, the convoy headed on to a nearby town.

From what Michael could tell, the town appeared to be more on the medieval side, judging by the buildings. Parking the monster truck near the rest of the convoy, Michael stepped out, Franklin appearing nearby on his motorcycle. The two continued on foot to explore the village.
There was certainly a wide variety of people here, a few of them stopping to stare at the newcomers. Michael gave a short wave as he walked by them, unsure of what to make of them. The two wandered around for a while, looking at the various buildings as they did so. Eventually, they came upon the general store, the two sharing a look and shrugging as they walked in. They didn't know what else to do, and maybe they'd find something useful.

Inside, they found that the kid with the hat had already beaten them to it. "Hey." Michael said, looking around as the shopkeeper spoke to the kid. Apparently, she was interested in some sort of hourglass, which was a quest reward and couldn't be sold. That got their attention- he had no idea what it was, but the kid seemed interested in it, and if it was some special reward it might be something useful. "A quest reward, huh? What's the quest?"

Geralt stepped out of the castle, somewhat disheartened by the experience. It wasn't a total loss, sure, but...well, now he'd need to come up with something to keep the folks back at the Guild from sending more people out here. Without Axii, it'd be a bit tough, though the sign also caused its own fair share of troubles.

Nonetheless, Geralt had managed to get himself the ingredients for a batch of basic Cursed Oil, not that it'd be much good against....most things other than werewolves. Come to think of it, cursed oil was practically werewolf oil. There weren't many cursed creatures in the Continent, and there were even less here in this Land of Adventure.

Shaking his head of the line of thought, Geralt made his way back to Lumbridge, ready to continue his search for anything that could give him an idea of just what the hell he'd gotten himself involved with in this crazy world, anyway.

As he approached the entrance to the town, his eyes widened and a tiny smile crossed his face: newcomers, and from the looks of it, there were a lot of them, almost all of them different species with some different sorts of technology. Maybe this would be where he'd get his answers. Surely they'd know something about what was going on.

But first he had to get past his....adoring fans. Again. Damn this place.

Jr was in the middle of polishing off the last of the flat stake (intentionally unseasoned so the boy’s immature taste buds could savor the pure taste of the flesh) he'd gotten from the cube cow when he heard screaming coming from the Bowser mobile. Or to be accurate, more and louder screaming than the stuff he’d been pointedly ignoring while having lunch. With an exasperated sigh the prince finally got up from where he had been sitting in the grass among his tools, grabbed his paintbrush, and went to investigate.

---

”I’M THE KOOPA KING. YOU’RE MAKING AN EXCEPTION.” Bowser informed the unfortunate Guildmarm as he reached for the contract she’d been in the process of handing over before she’d had second thoughts on the matter.

For a moment, it looked like they were going to get away with it. Then victory was swiped from under their noses by an unforeseen hand, wiping the evil grins of the Koopas’ faces once they realized they had been duped. Such is the fate of villains.

A Master of Masters look alike, who was referred to as the Guildmaster by his subordinate, came to the rescue of the Guildmarm. His hypnotically overly animated motions and charismatic words beguiled the king and mage long enough to steal away the F rank contract without them even noticing till it was far too late.

The pair managed only a few halting ”HAY”’s and ”But’s as the man laid down the law. They’d have to do C rank Quests before the F rank hunt if they wanted to stay in the Guild’s good graces and reap the rewards.

Once it was all spelled out to them the two turned away briefly to converse, Kamek asking the Guild workers to ”Give us just one moment to discuss this”

”We could just blow this joint and go deal with the Saurian right now. Whatever it is.” Bowser suggested, his quiet voice leaving much to be desired.

”It’s probably a very, very big lizard. Kamek suggested before saying ”and let’s not be so hasty to burn this bridge. We don’t even know if that’s our target.”

”You were the one who said they’d know!” Bowser whispered back loudly.

”Well, yes” Kamek admitted ”but for it to just be wandering around in the fields does seem a touch too easy? Best we make use of this Guild while we get used to the area and reap the rewards while we’re at it.”

Bowser grumbled, somewhat unconvinced.

”We do it their way and they’ll make a statue of you after we deal with the Saurian.” Kamek added.

Bowser grunted and then nodded. He did, after all, like statues of himself and it had been much too long since he had seen one. His doppelganger hadn’t even had any made in the captured castle, which was just another one of the many proofs that he was the real Bowser.

”ALRIGHT WE’LL DO IT!” the king announced as he turned back to the Guild-people, a clawed fist thumping on the counter and ever so slightly ruining the Guildmaster’s perfect card placement in the process.

”Which one’s sire?” Kamek asked before anyone else could.

The response was an ”UHH” followed by the king actually peering down at the cards while trying to quickly find out what he’d just agreed too.

Kamek shook his head slightly and then said ”You take a look over those sire, and get the troops in on the mission, while I go ask a friend of yours some questions.”

”Yeah yeah.” Bowser responded, waving his advisor off while he slowly made calculations of effort vs reward in his head and regretted agreeing to tasks that included straight up manual labor.

”I’ll be right back.” the old wizard said, before taking his broom, which he had been using as a walking stick, in both hands and then tapping the butt of it it against the floor once, causing him to vanishing in a small puff of smoke.

---

In the Dead Zone, on the back of the trolley, the teleporter suddenly deposited a small peasant child. The mischievous look upon his face was quickly wiped away at the sight of the crumbling ruins and hordes of zombies, to be replaced by an expression of utter, horrified, shock. Stunned in place by the sight, they vanished almost as soon as they had appeared once the teleporter spooled back up.

The boy rematerialised in his hometown and relief flooded his features for a few moments before he was roughly shoved off of the teleporter by a scaly hand.

---

The elderly wizard repeated in the hall of Peaches castle and set about finding the Master of Masters. The Masters of Guild and Masters' shared fashion sense, Kamek noted, ever so conveniently hid their eyes that should be glowing red if they were under the influence. While Bowser’s descriptions of all Galeem affected people as violent drunks had since been shown to be inaccurate, or at least hyperbole, the suspicion that the ever helpful stranger had reason to hide his own eyes remained even hen he was no-longer an exception. It was unlikely he would have keyed himself after all, and if he had how would he have known to do so? Still, suspicious or not he could potentially give them some information about his doppelganger, and that alone made him worth seeking out. Kamek also admitted to himself that perhaps he was being to quick to judge their own hooded figure, seeing as they had never formally met.

After interrogating a few toads he discovered that the Master of Masters had taken residence in highest tower of the castle. Then, after taking one look at the flight of stairs leading up there and receiving complaints from both his knees and grumbling stomach the mage thought maybe the meeting with the Master of Masters could wait just a few more moments.

”Lunch first.” he decided.

---

Jr eventually managed to chase of the local children who had been playing around the team’s vehicles, helped in no small part by the fact that they had been distracted by the arrival of a local legend and considerably less by the fact that he was the same age as most of them. The Rabbids, having been terrible guards that had joined in with the kid’s antics almost immediately, went with them for the time being as a result of peer pressure and a desire to avoid Jr’s anger.

Left without living targets for his tantrum he turned it on the teleporter ”why doesn’t this stupid thing have an off switch!” he complained before stepping onto it to register a complaint with the manufacturer.

---

When Kamek finally arrived at the Master’s new study he was just finishing polishing off the final banana of a bunch he had stolen from a large pile that had been amassed since the last time the team was in the area. Having been taunted by the banana necked flying dinos for the whole time they’d been in the land of adventures the fruit theft was well worth risking DK’s wrath in Kamek’s opinion.

The old wizard then proceeded to knock on the door of the study a few times with the butt of his broom before letting himself inside.

”Good afternoon, Master of Masters. I am Kamek, head mage of the Terribleness King Bowser.” The Koopa introduced himself while taking in the cloaked figure's new abode.

”I apologies for interrupting your work, but I was wondering if you know anything about someone referred to as the Guildmaster? Has the exact same outfit as you and talks like: ‘howsabout youse folks learn how things work in this neck o’ the woods’ Kamek asked, giving the limited details of the man including a somewhat impressive impersonation of the strange individual’s accent. ”They wouldn't happen to be one of the masters you are a master of?”

---

The prince materialised on the back of the trolley where the boy had been only a few moments ago, stepping off the porter to avoid the same rapid return journey he had.

”Hay Balzermate! why doesn’t this thing have an off switch! Or a safe mode or something that makes it less of glowy twerp bait” he immediately began complaining while taking in the surroundings. In the moments since the child had been and gone the battle with the hoard had ended in victory for the Dead Zone team, ”and while I’ve been dealing with stupid people in some lame hick town you’ve been fighting in a freaking zombie apocalypses!” after making the tragic end of a civilization sound like a cool thing to be involved in he jabbed a finger at the myriads of fading sprites that had been gathered or remained strewn across the ground ”and raking in the loot too!”

The boy then sat down on the side of the trolley and used his paintbrush to scoop up two sprites (a zombie and a demon) as they rode along. ”pretty weak looking tho,” he noted, cooling off slightly, as he crushed the entirely unearned sprites while looking to see where they were going.

”Oh wow,” Jr said as he caught sight of the infested Tank ”Now that’s more like it.”

”Drive me closer, I want to hit it with my paintbrush!” he commanded as he brandished said weapon towards their final foe.

@ProPro@Lugubrious@DracoLunaris

---

Linkle looked up as Bowser and the wizard started playing good guard/bad guard with the guildmarm and frowned at how obviously uncomfortable they were making the nice looking young lady. She absentmindedly let the gunpowders fall out of her hands and into those of the Courier and walked forward to give the boys a piece of her mind about that.

Turns out she didn't have to worry all that much, and Linkle's grin widened as none other than the Master of Masters swooped to her rescue first!

Or, at least, a guy who looked just like the Master of Masters. His mannerisms, though similarly energetic, the voice was all wrong had this slight but unmistakable twinge of sleeze to it. Besides, the Master could see the future. If you could do that it would take all the fun out of gambling. But if he wasn't the master they definitely shopped for clothes at the same place, so he must have been from the same world.

She sidled up to the counter as the man was dealing out the quest cards, crossing her arms on the table and laying her chin on them to watch him deal them out. She read them out one at a time, and wasn't surprised to see the rewards listed in rupees. If she got a few of these under her belt there was no way she wouldn't be able to square her self-imposed dept to Cid. If she just wanted money it would be easy to take the rock gathering job, something she was confident she could go all day at, but her eyes slid off that card and was drawn as though by some compelling force to the more urgent ones. Missing people and evil fish creatures took priority over cold hard cash.

Then again, it wasn't like the Guildmaster had said anything about only one quest to a person. It wasn't like they had somewhere they desperately needed to be either.

Speaking of the Guildmaster she looked up at him. "Hey?" She said to get his attention. "Do you know a man who calls himself the Master of Masters? He helped us out a while ago, and he dresses exactly like you." A sudden thought occurred, and she excitedly pushed herself up from the counter. "Wait, if you're the Guild Master, and he's the Master of Masters, does that make him your master? Do you have any idea where his eye would be?"

By now Bowser had turned back, his thump of the counter putting the cards askew and sending a tremor up Linkle's arms. He gazed down at the cards, clearly in deep thought, but it didn't seem that complicated to her. "Let's just do all of them." She said, already getting fired up. "Between the lot of us I'll bet we could knock all of these out in one day, team up on that big monster, and leave the town clamoring for more."

Blazermate's sentry gun kept most of the smaller zombies from approaching the Trolly and the van, creating a bit of a safe zone in the zombie infested city. Sadly due to how it worked, it couldn't do much damage to the big zombie that the van people were dealing with, with only the occasional errant rocket hitting the big brute. But thankfully the van people were keeping it at bay, so the only things that she had to deal with was the small zombies that kept perishing in the area, their spirits floating everywhere.

When Blazermate got an idea to scoop up some of the zombie spirits and crush them, a few more dangerous things happened. First, Gene went wading into the horde of zombies, and after a few moments, came back out covered in all sorts of nasty stuff and something extra, some sort of disease. While Blazermate wasn't sure if she could heal diseases, she was confident her medi-beam could at least hold it at bay. So she yelled at Gene to get closer to her so she could keep him healed, at least until they found some sort of cure or his natural immune system could cure him.

But that wasn't all that happened. Her teleporter sprung to life as it teleported... a kid? The child didn't stay for very long, apparently frozen in fear at seeing all the zombies before he teleported back. "OK... what are those guys doing...?" Blazermate said as a few moments later Jr. came through the teleporters. He seemed angry for a moment before commenting on all the zombies around and starting to join in the fight, pulling out a giant paintbrush and leaving zones of very colorful goop that seemed to just, act as barriers that zombies died in as they passed through the zone of colorful stuff.

"OK, now thats cool. Now I can grab stuff, thanks." Blazermate said to Jr, pointing out the Tank that the people in the van were engaging in. Thanks to Jr's paint holding back the zombies as well as Blazermate's sentry gun, Blazermate flew around to collect what spirits she could that were in relative safety, making sure to keep her healing beam on Gene. When she gathered quite a few zombie souls, she landed back on the trolly and began crushing each soul to see what items she'd gather from them. Any weapons that weren't going to be useful to her, she figured she'd break down into materials and see if she could make some new items out of them, following her ideas from before.

When she noticed that Jr's paint as well as her sentry gun had decimated pretty much all the zombie hordes, Blazermate decided that she should probably keep the trolly in line with the van people who had went up ahead. Seeing as Banjo/Kazooie weren't at the wheel, Blazermate decided to give it a shot. Thankfully the trolly was fairly simple to control, if a bit wonky with how it turned. She decided to drive the trolly, with Jr. aboard, to pick up Banjo/Kazoie and Gene from where they had found themselves as they devastated the hordes, telling them to get on.

The shouts from up ahead made finding where the van had gone pretty simple, and as Blazermate had the troly approach, her sentry gun got the big zombie that the van people were dealing with in its sights and began firing. "Oooh, thats a big one! Careful everyone!" Blazermate said, keeping her beam on whoever needed it as she parked the trolly in a safe area, her sentry gun laying down fire on the big thing.

What started as mere splotches and patches of green to enliven the otherwise barren terrain around it gradually gave way to lush, life-rich lands the further south the convoy traveled until it stretched out toward the horizon as far as they could see. They got an even better look at what awaited them in these plains of beginnings when Peach and gang decided to stop on top of a hill with a good view of it all. There was something inexplicably wondrous and uplifting about this place that brought a relieved smile out of Hat Kid. Then again, she was almost always smiling, but there was a better reason for it this time that couldn't be chalked up simply to her generally cheerful disposition. The sense of elation she felt just from being here was further elevated when receiving a signal she had been hoping for all day: her objective marker lit up, indicating something nearby, and it was on their way! Like that, she cut her sightseeing session short, started her scooter back up, and took off downhill forthwith in the direction of the town alongside the other more eager members of their party.

They were met at the gate by three who were assigned to keeping it: a teenage swordsman who’s coincidentally similar fashion sense Kid admired, a small mage about her size who acted as the trio’s mouthpiece, and a young mute swordsman barely older than her (if that). Linkle seemed ecstatic to meet the latter of the three, stumbling over her words and making everyone involved a little uncomfortable. Poor girl, only a day into their journey, and she was already starting to lose it. Who knew how much longer she would last at this rate. At least it didn’t hurt their chances as far as being approved for entry into town, and they were all soon cleared to do so on condition that they leave their vehicles parked outside the main entrance.

Hat Kid broke off from the group at the nearest opportunity to follow her hat’s waypoint into a general store. From the moment she pushed one of the doors open and took her first steps inside, her eyes were widely, wantingly affixed to one item in particular that sat (or rather floated) at the top shelf; something that had business being there, up for trade; a Time Piece. This made the first of several she would have to find again, and she was clearly happy to see its familiar aura and glow again, though it be diminished. She ceased her gawking when addressed by the remarkably diminutive shopkeeper, who was barely tall enough to see over the counter, nudging her to make a purchase. It was then when she finally took a cursory glance at the other items that she noticed the exclusion of a price tag on the only one she was truly interested in. A “quest reward,” he called it, instructing her to either hit the guild hall, or simply inquire him about the details. She, of course, opted for the second option, preferring to save herself a trip and cut out the middle man.

Her assignment: a missing persons case involving another client, apparently. Though, said client’s importance in the quest giver’s eyes may have been overstated slightly, with finding them being more or less relegated to being the optional objective. Stressed instead were the unspoken contents of her satchel, making it more retrieval than rescue mission. Sure enough, she should have little issue finding and recovering a valued key item; she was rather good at that. What bothered her, however, was the two professional criminals of their pack (or anyone, for that matter) taking up the same quest at the risk of cutting in on her much sought after reward.

It would have been unreasonable and uncharacteristic of her to openly object or complain about their prospect involvement, and thus refrained from doing so. She couldn’t fault them for not knowing better, after all, but she wasn’t exactly in a hurry to have to explain to them what they would be dealing with and why they shouldn’t, lest she further incentivize them. The best should could hope for was to beat them and whoever else may have accepted the mission ahead of her to it, which meant she didn’t have time to waste. She paused just short of stepping out of the door, shot a suspicious, determined glare halfway over her left shoulder toward the two men (without actually turning to look at them), and hurried outside before the store’s music drove her to insanity.

She hastened her trip back to the main gate with cap-assisted sprint and a few tumbling maneuvers with utterly cheerful disregard for any socially accepted conventions of public conduct, even leaping over the heads of a gruff-looking white-bearded mercenary and his fan club. She jumped to her scooter as soon as it came into view, started it up, switched hats, and headed south without hesitation toward her mission destination, where her new objective marker now guided her. With her compass still active, she would continue to periodically consult that as well.

After Linkle headed into town, Din was left with the guards and the child Link. He didn't seem to recognize her, so it was likely it wasn't the same Link she knew. Part of her felt compelled to use a friendship heart to wake him from his Galeem-controlled existence, but another part thought better of it. It wasn't like living like this hurt him, nor did it seem to make him hurt anyone else. And once Galeem was defeated, everyone would be free anyways. Besides, when the Link she knew saved her, he was also a kid, but she didn't really have a choice in the matter. She had been kidnapped and he, on his own volition, had set out to save her. Din could not in good conscious enlist a child to fight in a battle in which she had seen comrades get killed unceremoniously. The thought of freeing this child Link from Galeem's control, only to watch him die was more than Din could bear. She winked at the kid and said, "Like the girl just now, I'm also from Hyrule, though probably a different time from you. But you must know what Gerudo are, right? I'm a Gerudo dancer, and I'm about to put on a show in town, if you'd like to come and watch." With that, she left Link to continue his guard duty and headed to the square.

While her allies bothered the guild about finding jobs, Din resolved to help Linkle pay her debt to the rest stop owner of Hammerhead. Finding a good spot in the town square, Din began to project her voice and called out, "Come one, come all! And witness the amazing Din's exotic and entrancing dancing! Let her steps mystify and amaze you!" Casting the Spell of Summer on her position created a strange effect, like a spotlight aimed at her, despite it being a bright sunny day. She started by twirling the Rod of Ages like a baton, waving it and dancing around, flipping it into the air and catching it, while also using the Spells of Winter and Spring for magical, seasonal visual effects. Then Gogoat joined, and she got on its back, performing various balancing acts. Finally, she leapt from Gogoat's back and took to the air with her new wings, performing aerial acrobatics. landing with a flourish, she bowed, signaling the end of the performance, and waited to be showered with rupees. Hopefully this will earn some money, and while away the time until her allies have decided what quests to take and how they should tackle them.

Remembering something, he turned back briefly, grabbing the downed Smoker spirit (as the green gas had cleared), and shoved it in the Luggage.

Then Donnie paled as the carnage ended and he noted that Gene had gotten covered in some kind of foul green goop. It instantly reminded him of the Plague of Undeath. The Scourge would use Blight gas as a bioweapon, releasing the foul green gas to infect anyone unfortunate enough to breathe it in. Any who died would be revived as a mindless undead, serving the Lich King.

Of course, Gene was bathed in a liquid, not a gas, and it resembled vomit more than anything else. But still, he wouldn't have been surprised if it harbored whatever plague was animating these corpses. "Gene!" he said as he flew near the brawler, "That stuff might not just be diseased, it might make you one of them if left alone long enough! Trust me, I know from experience!"

Blazermate began calling to Gene so she could heal him, and Donnie said, "Good thinking. It could keep the infection at bay. Since this whole mixed-worlds thing wrecked my memory, I've been remembering some of the spells I lost. If I get lucky enough to remember my Detox spell in time, I should be able to cure it. Keep your healing beam on him until then."

Then they neared the four gentlemen with strange fashion sense who were fighting what looked like a huge, swollen zombie. It walked on all fours, and it resembled one of the Scourge's Abominations. And yet, it seemed even stupider than those. At least the Abominations were stitched together from several corpses, including their brains. And yet they could use melee weapons like meat cleavers and hooks! They could even talk, albeit like a brain-damaged kobold!

Whatever this thing was, it traded brains for even more strength and durability. A trade that seemed to be working out for it if these four couldn't kill it with all the injuries they had piled onto it.

In any event, he couldn't get close. He stuck to pelting it with Chi Bursts from his mount, safely out of reach.

That was before the thing picked up a car and threw it at him with unexpected accuracy. At full power, Donnie would have dodged it easily. But he was slower than he used to be. He got hit in the right arm, the impact completely shattering all of the bones and bending it at an unnatural angle. Yelling in pain, he cast Vivify frantically, until the arm knitted itself back together. Taking a deep breath, he inspected the armor. Thankfully, it had held up due to its magic, but it hadn't protected him from the blunt force trauma.

He needed to take this thing seriously.

He ascended a good eighty feet, to the very edge of Chi Burst's 40-yard range, to give himself precious seconds in the event he needed to dodge another improvised projectile. In-between letting his stamina recharge, he continued firing Chi Bursts down at the creature. Would this zombie just keel over and die already!?

Ratchet was taken aback by the apparent durability of these demons. By all accounts, they seemed to be the small fry of their kind, but the pack had taken an explosion from his bombbuilder head on and still gotten up. It seemed like he would have to take Nero’s words more seriously and not let his rivalry with Jak rile him up too much… But damn, it was so unfair! Jak already had most of his weapons, and had superpowers too! Ratchet was able to compete against Jak the last two times they met thanks to his enormous arsenal, why did he have to get pulled into this world without any of his guns?!

The lombax couldn’t waste another bombbuilder shot on the large swarms of zombies, or the demons. It took some time to regenerate its shots after all, and the city was not only swarming, but also would no doubt have much more dangerous enemies to deal with. Since the only weapon he pulled from those spirits was a tiny handgun, clearly a desperation sidearm, he had to conserve the big gun for when it mattered.

Meanwhile Jak was plowing through zombies with his Vulcan Fury. It’s piercing capabilities really took them down, as a single shot of blue eco could splatter a handful of the suckers and send them all flying. Add to that how rapid fire the gun was and entire swaths of the monsters were nothing but bloody chunks in only a couple seconds! After about five seconds of shooting Jak took his finger off the trigger to shoot Ratchet a smug grin, which Ratchet returned in a mocking way. Nearby Nero obliterated the empusa demons through expert swordsmanship and high-tech weapons that came with his prosthetic arm. Jak smiled, clearly impressed, while Daxter had a giant toothy grin.

”Why don’t we get a sword like that, Jak? Part zoomer-cycle, part sword, ALL danger! V-v-vroom!”

”Maybe we will, if we crush the right spirit.” Jak replied, switching the morph gun to its much more compact and easy to carry scattergun mode. He turned back to Ratchet. ”I’d say that’s about forty for me. Maybe you got one or two in that bomb blast?” he teased.

Ratchet would’ve turned red with the indignity if his fur would’ve showed it. With an expert flick of the wrist he threw his omniwrench toward the defeated empusas, collecting one of their spirits as the wrench returned to him. ”It wouldn’t be any fun if I left you in the dust the whole contest. Letting you get ahead, then overtaking you late game? That’s where the real excitement is.” He crushed the spirit, then stored whatever gear it created for him away in his extradimensional storage space.

”Yeah, sure, whatever you gotta tell yourself to sleep at night, buddy,” Daxter taunted. Ratchet opened his mouth to argue, but it was time to go. Nero and his associate in the van weren’t waiting any longer, not to mention the rest of his crew were ready to get going as well. They had to catch up with the four young men. Resolving to finish the argument later, Ratchet followed.

The van, and other associated vehicles, crested a nearby hill to come across a heated battle already in progress. One hulking behemoth of a zombie was engaged with the four they were looking for, and though they had clearly dealt their fair share of blows it showed no signs of slowing down. The four used some form of magic to stay alive, but clearly it was a struggle just to keep up. Good thing help arrived, signalled by Nero shooting the monster to get its attention.

”Wait, we’ve gotta fight that thing?! Daxter exclaimed, his voice cracking in obvious fear. Jak and Ratchet both turned their heads to stare him down, causing the little ottsel to backpedal. ”Heh, I mean, no problem! That’ll be too easy! We’ve taken on bigger and meaner bruisers back home no problem, right Jak? Why don’t you go all mean and nasty on him?”

”I’ve got something different in mind,” Jak replied, switching the morph gun to Blaster mode. ”When we first got here, the dark eco felt a lot closer, and I couldn’t use my light powers. But the darkness feels… Far away again.”

Ratchet perked up. If Jak was going to do what he thought, and he had Clank with him, this bad boy was absolutely toast! ”You’re gonna freeze time? You know Clank and I have got your back!”

Jak’s entire body suddenly enveloped in a bright luminescence, bright light shining down as if from the Heavens above. It all coalesced around his form, turning Jak into a being of the light. two wings made of pure light sprouted from his back to complete the change. ”I haven’t absorbed enough Light Eco for that yet,” answered Jak. Still, the change was impressive and with some powerful flaps he took to the air, Daxter hanging onto his shoulders. From above Jak began to fire shot after shot of yellow eco from his blaster gun, striking with long range precision damage to the tank’s head and upper torso.

Ratchet shook his head. ”No, it wouldn’t be that easy.” Flipping to the side, Ratchet Ratchet threw his omniwrench at the tank’s knee from behind to force it down, rendering it less mobile and less dangerous while everyone else unloaded into it.

---

---

Courier 6 listened closely to the guild woman as she explained how things worked around here, extremely hesitant to give out the ultimate quest to Bowser and the others as a first time mission. Though the Koopa King could intimidate her, the Courier knew and understood where she was coming from. There’s a certain way you build up status within new groups, after all. Everyone starts at the bottom and gradually proves themselves as they work up. That’s how he had to operate within the Brotherhood of Steel, within the NCR, and so many other groups. 6 was about to intervene himself when…

No.

That asshole?!

The guildmaster came sauntering over, and though he bore an uncanny resemblance to the Master of Masters (insofar as a dark cloaked and hooded figure that never shows their true appearance can resemble another), it was clear immediately from his body language and… Language language that they were, in fact, two separate people. Yet the relationship could not be denied. 6 intended to ask questions, to pull some information from this person to gain a stronger understanding of their organization, and just as he was about to speak… Linkle beat him to the punch and completely ruined any element of secrecy he’d be able to operate from.

Grumbling to himself, the Courier took one of the contracts and signed on it with a simple number 6. As Linkle suggested simply completing all of the quests, the Courier nodded in agreement. ”Couldn’t agree more. Already logged them all right here,” he said, tapping his trusty pip-boy on his arm. ”Automatically keeps tabs on all quests and jobs given. See?” He offered a look to Linkle and any others who wanted to give it a gander, scrolling through a number of quests from his own world still marked “OPEN,” as well as the most recent in the “COMPLETED” section: All the Way Home - Escort Bowser and Kirby safely to Mushroom Kingdom castle.

”I reckon I’ll go tangle with them wigglers first. Should be easier’n a bottle of whiskey if’n they’re like any other animals. From there I’ll head over a bit east to deal with them walking fish monsters. If any of y’all want to join me, I’ll welcome the company.”

After Din declined her offer, Peach resumed her trip toward the guild hall in the wake of her comrades, but she didn't stay on course for long. A familiar yell caught her ear and brought her to the doorway of the nearby smithy, where to her acute dissatisfaction she found Tora literally falling over himself for a couple of cute girls. “Really, Tora. Can't you show some self-respect?

In the span of a second, the princess's admonishment turned Tora's excitement to utter humiliation. Aghast, he struggled to pick himself up, crying, “Meh-meh-mehmeh!? Why you here!? Tora j-just admiring...uh, just...appreciating beautiful metalworking, yes! Peachy-Peachy know Tora loves all things engineering!” Laughing it off, the Nopon watched the meddlesome woman leave with a pointed glare before turning to the curious smiths, suddenly all business. “Ahem, meh! Please do not mind implication of meanypon princess, she not right in head.”

Nodding, he clasped his wings and adopted a dignified expression. “Now, Tora get to meat on bone. Come here to make repairs to dear companion, Poppi. Very little energy, could also use tune-up.” With some effort, he raised Poppi and gave her a nudge. The artificial blade willed her eyes to open, though their bleariness suggested a lack of focus.

Tora nodded approvingly, noting what a trooper his creation was. When he looked back to the smith sisters, however, he found disbelief -and some alarm- on their faces. “What are you doing with that poor girl?” the blonde one exclaimed, her hand dangerously close to a fearsome-looking axe. “And what's wrong with her body...?”

The others, especially the pink-haired one, looked no less menacing, and it took no more than that for Tora to start panicking. Waving his wings and sweating profusely, he wailed, “Meh! Don't get wrong idea! Poppi is Tora's creation, an amazing machine made to be like Blade. Tora want nothing more for Poppi than be happy and healthy! R-right, Poppi?”

He found his companion treating him to an odd look. At first it seemed more pensive than anything else, leading Tora to wonder if he said something wrong. Under duress, he tended to not think about what he said, instead speaking straight from the heart. However, Poppi's expression became a soft smile, and she gave a nod of confirmation.

At that, the smiths seemed to relax. “Well...” the blonde said after a moment, “If that's true, we've got no problem. Besides, you're sooo cute!” Their incredulity at the idea of a machine, known to them as a special kind of golem, faded away to be replaced by wild curiosity. They swarmed around Poppi, inspecting her material, joints, and exterior systems. Tora ended up the receiving end of almost as much attention as the smiths, Ramona in particular, prodded his fascinatingly ovular body, ran their fingers through his fur, and even picked him up. While he didn't like being picked up in particular, with the given circumstances, he hardly minded.

In the end, he discovered that the sisters had an active quest available: a simple mining mission, with the payout depending on the haul. Remembering his shield's drill, Tora declared, “Am perfect for job! If nice ladies just give small forward payment of crystals to revive Poppi, then Tora bring so many ores, you never have to mine again!” Quite taken with the adorable Nopon and his incredible friend, Ramona agreed, and after a few minutes Tora and an invigorated Poppi waltzed out of Lumbridge headed east.



While Bowser mulled over his options, the guildmaster switched his attention to the young, rabbit-eared lady asking questions. Regardless of his masked features, it became clear after the first sentence that the highly-animated individual knew nothing about any Master of Masters, at least by name. Since Linkle didn't allow him get a word in edgewise, however, he couldn't respond until after she mentioned the Master of Masters eye. That, out of everything said to him so far, seemed to catch him off guard. “Some babbo's lost peeper...? Now that's a puzzler, ain't it. Seen a couple special eyes 'round and about, but only one outta its head was on the...huh.”

A white-gloved hand reached into his hood to thoughtfully rub his hidden chin. “Nah, couldn't be. Ain't got the foggiest 'bout this stooge o' yours, li'l miss.” He watched, nodding his approval, as Linkle then expressed an interest in doing all the quests. The others, like the gunslinger, eventually picked their poison and got on their merry way. With go-getters like that, the guildmaster didn't imagine the whole lot of quests taking longer than a few hours.

Once the heroes left, he let out a low, growly chuckle. “We-he-hell, ain't that a pip.” Beneath his hood, a gleaming white grin manifested itself, and vicious seafoam-green eyes leered at the doorway. “Gonna have ta finger these bums to the boss.” Leaning down to the guildmarm, he told her, “Hold the fort. I'm takin' a powder.” So saying, he kicked his heels. A hole appeared beneath him in the ground, and he dropped into it with a corkscrew spin.

---

The new arrival to the general store was due a repeat explanation of the quest from Malo, but his first visitor didn't stay to hear it. Hat Kid's scooter sped her away from Geralt, Michael, and the others, and soon afterward, out of Lumbridge itself. Green grassland awaited her to the south, flat at first with scattered trees but growing hillier as she traveled. Her vehicle ferried her steadily onward, and where uneven terrain forced her hand, a little impromptu jumping posed no problem for the agile youngster. On the way, she spotted a herd of docile beasts grazing in the plains, and by chance passed worryingly close by to a huge, dangerous-looking ape just wandering in the open.

Eventually she came upon a wood, not large by any means but sporting unnaturally large trees. It stood in the shadow of one of the many rocky mountains that formed the Land of Adventure's western border. No road led inside, but a sizeable gap between the trees and surrounding underbrush offered a sort of path. It did not take long after proceeding down it to come upon a stony structure nestled among the trunks and vine-covered, mossy bricks. The door stood ajar, beckoning the adventurer inside, and a quick look at her compass hat confirmed that her objective lay beyond.

Compared to the entrance, the chamber immediately after left a lot to be desired in terms of structure. With jam-packed trees as its 'walls', the room featured giant mushrooms, aged pottery, a carved totem, and wooden stairs rotted away by moisture and time. Instead, a matted veil of creeping vines hung in their place, and to that leafy curtain clung a wretched spider, its grotesque limbs and odious head protruding from the torso of some long-dead corpse. A heavy, rolling door barred the way to the next room, a more ordinary chamber nevertheless infested by plantlife.

In its center, a brilliant spectacle caught the eye. A quartet of braziers blazed in various colors, and between them four walls of prismatic fire danced, barring the way to the plinth at the center. Between the bewitched flames, Hat Kid could glimpse the form of a merchant girl, still but otherwise seemingly unharmed. There could be little doubt as to her identity as Malo's esteemed client. Any experimentation would leave a singed Hat Kid aware that no amount of acrobatics would get her over the rather familiar flames, which extended upward to block her path. Thus, her attention was forced outward. Four corridors branched off from the room, one for each colored brazier. Since Hat Kid's compass zeroed in on the girl's location, the choice of where to go next lay with her.

---

Bustling as Lumbridge was, Din's dance did not go unnoticed for long. Passers-by found themselves entranced, both by her talent and her strange, exotic appearance, and before long a crowd gathered. Wide, sparkling eyes watched as she wove to and fro in the glow of her spell's light, and when her impromptu routine brought her into the sky, awed gasps and cheers filled the air along with her. For a few precious moments, performer and spectator were both lost in the wonder of the moment, forgetting about worries and cares, past and future alike. Though Din began to dance as a way to earn money, her art became much more, even if for only a short time. It was a wonderful moment.

Her onlookers knew it too, and when her dance concluded, glittering gems and coins flew through the early afternoon sun to land at her Gogoat's hooves. Rupies she recognized, but the other required a brief inquiry. The gold coins, as it turned out, were called zenny (G, to some), and found common use among the monster hunters and more serious-minded denizens of the town. They came plentifully, putting their individual worth low, but in the end Din and her helpful Pokemon counted 180 rupies and 835 zenny, which by her best guess meant a pretty profitable endeavor.

In bunches the townsfolk drifted away, except for one. The girl who remained approached Din a few minutes after her show with bright eyes. “That was amazing!” she bubbled. “You're such an incredible dancer! I'm more of a fortune teller myself, but I'd be so happy if you could give me any advice!”

Scarcely stopping to breath, she continued. “And are those real?” she asked, pointing out Din's new wings. “They look fake, but also like a part of you. Weird! But so cool!” Holding up her arm, she compared the wings to her own sash. “A whole new take on this sort of accessory. I try to wear stuff that's pretty but doesn't get in the way of fighting. Dancing is a part of my fighting style, so it's really important to me! So what do you say, will you help me out? I could read your fortune to pay you back!” Something occurred to her, shocking her into making an embarrassed bow. “Oh! I forgot to say, I'm Menat. It's great to meet you!”





Together, the new arrivals joined in on the offensive against the Tank, easing the burden on the four friends greatly. The wounded got a chance to restore their vitality with potions before rejoining the action. With more allies running interference, they could resume their hit-and-run team fighting in earnest, striking at the monster in turn to keep it from being able to focus on any one of them. If one of the boys did get focused, he would focus solely on defense and evasion, which Noctis in particular made easy with his warping ability. Meanwhile, the light-eco-powered Jak and Donnie attacked from above, completely avoiding most of the Tank's attacks while giving themselves ample room to avoid the odd projectile and lay on the hurt.

When Banjo & Kazooie's trolley appeared, however, the assault from the turret atop it drew the Tank's wrath almost instantly. Blazermate's 'safe place' proved anything but. A full volley of bullets plugged the monsters upper body as it thundered closer, until at only a few feet away, the sentry unleashed its missiles and buried the Tank in a sizable explosion. A second later, the thing roared as it charged from the smoke cloud and smashed the trolley aside. Most of the force hit the sentry, critically damaging it, but it also toppled the vehicle, and the sentry's ensuing impact with the ground totaled it.

The machine's sacrifice was not, however, in vain. The Tank's wounds were piling up, and another well-aimed chi burst from Donnie as the thing dawdled provoked an angry snarl, and it began to flail wildly. However, Ratchet struck from behind, striking its knee in a vulnerable moment to halt its movement. “Not bad!” Seeing a chance, Nero grappled in using Wire Bound, and in quick succession slashed again and again and again, finishing with an electric burst that staggered his gurgling target. A Wire Snatch snagged its arm, brought it back in, and set it up for the demon hunter to jam his prosethetic arm into its belly. A crushing blow forced him to dodge backward, but he left his arm behind, stuck in its flesh. As he watched, it reconfigured slightly, and began to beep.

Recognizing the detached device as a bomb, the four friends went to work. Ignis pulled it multiple smaller knives and strafed the target sinking them into the Tank's meat one after another. Noctis warped between each one, delivering a powerful strike before moving on, and Gladio punctuated the last one with a heavy thrust into the tank's back, leaving it stuck in place and unable to reach him. Prompto sidled up to Ratchet, nudging him in the shoulder to get his attention, saying “Now that's what I call an opening!” He raised his revolver and fired into the Tank's heat, encouraging Ratchet to do the same.

The last move in the sequence before Nero's Exploder went off belonged to either Gene or Banjo, whoever could better cash in the combo for massive damage and style.



A lack of reply to Kamek's knocking made self-entry the next logical step, but when he entered the room at the peak of the castle's tallest tower, the wizard discovered his person of interest absorbed in his work in the middle of a striking study. With only a few hours at his disposal, the Master of Masters had managed to fully take over the room, not just filling it with desks, tomes, parchments, and instruments, and other clutter, but transforming the room itself. Immaculate wood took the place of stone walls, the windows sported magnificent feats of stained glass, and fantastical glowing flower-lamps filled the room with soft radiance.

Only when Kamek drew rather close did the Master of Masters look up from his work, which at the moment appeared to consist of speedy writing in a book. “Oh, hey there. I recognize you. Gotta say, didn't see you coming. Although, I did kinda guess that that big goon needed someone to be the brains of the operation.”

The sorcerous koopa laid his inquiries down, prompting the Master of Masters to rest his head on a fist. After a few moments he replied, completely dodging the question. “Y'know, I'm glad you came. If you're already in the Land of Adventure, you're making real progress. Even after your friends took down that oh-so-evil overlord, I was worried you might all, I dunno, fall into a ditch or something. But it sounds like all's well, eh? Wouldn't mind more visits in the future, especially social calls, instead of business.” His vapid words came almost too easily, as if his mind was somewhere else.

Chuckling, he leaned over the back of his seat, letting his arm dangle as he held up his other hand. “But hey, don't let me holdja up. Now, I know that when you see this cloak, you're thinking 'man, this cat's got some serious, one-of-a-kind style!' Much as it pains me to admit, this coat isn't the only one of its kind. There's oodles of 'em, in fact. Just equipment to protect one against darkness. And to protect one's privacy, hoho!” Shrugging, he shook his head. “But for reals, I don't have the slightest clue about this 'guildmaster' fella. The 'masters' I'm a mentor to are the Foretellers. Kids with colorful robes and animal masks. Hey, if you see 'em, let 'em know where I am, alright?” His gaze turned to one of the stained-glass windows, falling across the countryside beyond.

When next his voice came, it came a little heavier. “I'd...like to see 'em again. Tell 'em I'm proud, despite all that happened.” Then, perking up, he addressed Kamek once more. “Whoa, drama alert! Sorry, little buddy. Anything else eatin' ya?”

Geralt ducked a bit when Hat Kid jumped over him and his wonderful fans, his eyebrow cocking as he looked at the strange device she got onto and rode off on. "Huh...never seen anything like that." He was curious, to say the least, but he also had other things to take care of. Namely, giving his report and figuring out who to talk to among these new arrivals. He gently made his way through the thankfully smaller group of people that crowded him this time and continued on.

Making his way back to the Guild Hall, Geralt halted a bit when he saw the giant monster...person...thing?...it reminded him of something, but he wasn't sure what...that was talking to the Guildmaster, who always struck him as an odd one. It was his manner of speech that did it, mostly.

Shaking his head, Geralt looked at the giant turtle monster-person thing, the....somewhat...normal looking guy, and the Guildmarm, before clearing his throat and stepping forward. "Back from that job. Had a...chat, with the werewolf. He shouldn't be bothering people anymore. To be safe, though, I'd steer folks clear of that area. He's not too keen on visitors. Gave me an idea on how to solve the problem for good, though." Sighing, Geralt shook his head. "Didn't do the job, though, so...no point in asking for coin." He looked back to the two newcomers and nodded, wondering whether he should speak. Trolls tended to be a touchy bunch, and he wondered whether this big guy was the same.

Yes. That's what he reminded Geralt of- a spiky troll. Best not to mention that. He much preferred keeping his limbs where they were and his flesh un-boiled. "New to the place, eh? Name's Geralt."

---

In the time after the fight, Gene quickly hopped into the shower of the van, not bothering to take his clothes off as they needed to be cleaned the most. Unfortunately for him, he didn't take into account the fact that wet clothes were uncomfortable as hell to move around in. Stepping out of the shower with nothing but a pair of tighty-whities on and wet clothes in hand, Gene reached into his pants pocket. He had a bunch of different outfits he'd bought, and they all could fit nice and neat into his pocket! ... Somehow.

As he rummaged around in there, his hand came across a pair of clothes. From the feel of it, they were still dry, too! Grinning, he pulled them out, only to find...

Oh God.

That freaky, awful, weird fishnet thing! It had feathers on the collar too! He didn't even know how he got it, one day he just... Had it! Suddenly, the van came to a stop. Oh no. He heard gunfire, and Nero's voice yelling at something. Then, there were the distinct sounds of combat, likely the others joining in on fighting whatever was outside. Crap, crap, it was too late to get anything else! Quickly, Gene began to put on the clothes, regretting his choice all the while. The others were gonna think he was some sort of sicko after this.

With a dramatic flair, Gene kicked the door of the van wide open, revealing him in all his glory.


With a yell of excitement, Gene ran out, fist raised... Only to stop dead in his tracks as he saw the big zombie the others were fighting. This thing was built like a tank! Oh, that's a good name, a Tank! He should pitch it to the others... Wait, now wasn't the time for coming up with names, now was the time for kicking ass! "Hey, freak! Over here!" he called out, before charging at the monster.

It was already weakened by the combined efforts of his allies and the boy band looking dudes. By the looks of it, the quartet were already here fighting it before the rest of them arrived; they had just finished up their little team combo. Having felt that the God Hand hadn't yet recharged in the time between the end of the earlier fight and now, Gene instead decided to go in for a few normal punches and kicks. This thing couldn't be much tougher than any of the Four Devas.

He continued his charge, delivering a leaping kick to the Tank! ... Which was very easily shrugged off. So, Gene began to let out his basic combo, finishing it off with a high kick! The Tank still didn't budge. Instead, it raised its beefy fists up high to bring them down onto Gene. Adrenaline pumping through his veins, Gene felt his honed reflexes saving his ass, and he found himself back flipping just out of the way of the attack.

Well, normal attacks didn't seem to do very well. He'd have to try a different tactic. With it decided, Gene whipped out the Roulette Wheel, and prayed for a Ball Buster... And the words "Ball Buster" appeared before him! Guess he still had some luck after all!

He turned around and, with practiced precision, delivered a backwards kick right into the zombie's big, ugly cajones. He must have still had feeling in his body after all, as his gross pale face turned a shade of blue, and twisted into a comically pained expression. As the Tank stood there stunned, Gene saw something in his mind's eye...



He grinned, and before he knew it, he was delivering a flurry of rapid punches into the beast's belly, as it began to twitch involuntarily at the beatdown it was receiving. Slowly, Gene began to yell, starting as a low growl but soon turning into a full on scream, as though he was voicing his fighting spirit. Faintly, he heard beeping, which slowly began to increase in speed and volume until...

An explosion!

Gene and the Tank were sent flying in opposite directions, Gene banging against the side of Nero and Nico's van and landing on his face. That... Hurt. A lot. Why didn't anyone tell him the Tank was rigged to blow? Well, hopefully it was finished off... Gene pushed himself up, groaning in pain, before rolling his left shoulder. He was probably lucky if it wasn't shattered. "Jeez, why didn't anyone tell me he was gonna blow up? I could've died!"

As they got closer to the infested tank Jr had a few moments to inspect his stolen loot. One was a strange red grenade covered in roots or vine like growth while the other... Jr sniffed the new hunk of flat meat and immediately wrenched in disgust. ”Ew! Gross!” Unsurprisingly zombie meat was not appetizing in the slightest.

The two items were left on the trolley as jr stood to confront the final enemy in the area. The hyper muscle freak was already taking a beating as the trolley drew closer to it. Magical blasts from flying heroes and bullets from the Gallem influenced allies tore at its flesh from all sides. It seemed unsure on what to focus, abandoning its pursuit of the other band and tossing the odd projectile at the hero party, until Blazermate’s sentry opened up on it. The crack of automatic gunfire and sting of bullets seemed to draw its ire far more than any of the other heroes’ attacks. With a roar it started to rampage towards Banjo's vehicle.

”Alright, nice work Blazermate!” jr called out cockily as the tank came for them. Yet that arrogance rapidly fell away it came closer, seemingly shrugging off the sentry's torrent of bullets like they were nothing. A ball of goop lobed from the paintbrush did little to help and so, panic gnawing at him, jr blindly grabbed for the weird ball and lobbed the first thing he found it at the tank.

As the slab of Rotten Flesh slapped the Tank in the face and it subsequently tanked the rockets of the auto turret too Jr’s panic erupted and he decided it might be good to get out of the way of the bullrushing monster. Snatching the Siphon grenade from the he leapt onto the teleporter and vanished mere moments before the tank plowed into the cart.

Jr found himself back in the village panting for breath, quickly stepping off of the teleporter to avoid being sent back into the arms of the juggernaut.

”Ok. Maybe I'll give this place a shot.” he concluded as he walked over to his clown car and stored the grenade inside it. After waiting a few moments to make sure the teleporter hadn't either exploded or dumped the tank into the village jr set of to find his father, correctly assuming that everything was fine on the other side.

---

”I'm glad we’re… surpassing your expectations I suppose.” Kamek said, slightly offended by the suggestion that they could have been so incompetent as to be foiled by a simple ditch. People didn't exactly reach his ripe old age without learning how to get across a few bottomless pits after all.

”A few of the heroes took it upon themselves to go into the dead zone too. Hopefully they are handling that as well as heroes seem to be able to handle everything.” he added informatively before the Master got round to answering his question.

”Well that is unfortunate” Kamek said in response to finding out that the Master of Masters and the Guildmaster where simply wearing a common protective garb from their home universe. Apparently his actual pupils did not even share his fashion sense. ”If I meet any of these proteges of yours I’ll let them know about this place.” Kamek promised. He did not sympathize with the master’s plight but more allies were always useful.

Despite the lack of much useful info Kamek did not feel like the trip had been a complete waste.

”I have to say, I do love what you’ve done with the place.” The room, part homely, part resplendent and was a far better laboratory than the dank and dark one he had woken up in yesterday. The assortment of tomes, equipment and parchments all arose a certain intellectual curiosity in the old Koopa. You did not master magic over decades without poking your nose in any and all opportunities to learn more after all.

”before I go, may I ask what are you working on up here? And what is this ‘darkness’ you mentioned?” he asked, squinting at the book the master had been writing before he entered.

---

While Bowser slowly and indecisively poured over the quests Linkle and the Curior came in to take a look at the available missions as well. Both ended up suggesting they simply do all of them rather than picking and choosing, which simplifies things somewhat, but the courier was the only one who decided on something specific to do first, namely capturing Wigglers.

”WOULDN'T UNDERESTIMATE THOSE WIGGLERS IF I WERE YOU. USE EM IN MY ARMY SOMETIMES. THEY GOT A SHORT FUSE AND TEMPER TANTRUMS LIKE A RUNAWAY TRAIN,” he warned/boasted.

Eventually, after much consideration, the king went with his gut. Which meant he chose the quest that had food as a reward. Even if it seemed a little too close to manual labor for his tastes, the King was willing to investigate the task if it meant securing a free dinner, something that would taste extra good after such an expensive lunch. Besides, likely he could just pawn of the quest to the whole team, get em to picks stuff up as they traveled across the zone.

Just after he was finishing up his thoughts and wondering how to find out the ingredients list he was interrupted. Looking up from the card he found a human with long white hair, plenty of scars on his face who was wearing chain-mail and a boat load of medieval weaponry. Probably an adventurer, Bowser concluded. The king checked his eyes and found them red, as expected, and that they had vertical slits, which was unusual. Probably. He wasn’t a human expert.

The man introduced himself as Geralt, and asked if they were new to the area.

”YEAH. WE ARE,” the king responded, missing that the question had been rhetorical, ”I’M BOWSER, THE KOOPA KING! SOON ENOUGH EVERYONE IN THIS TINY TOWN’S GONNA KNOW THAT, AND THEN EVERYONE IN THIS WHOLE MIXED UP WORLD WILL TOO.” he boasted thoughtlessly as he introduced himself. ”AND THESE TWO ARE SOME OF MY MINIONS.” he added, pointing at the Courier and Linkle.

Then he realized he could probably get some useful info out of this guy who was probably a regular in town. He double checked the ‘food for the hungry’ quest card and then spun it round for Geralt to see as he asked ”DO YOU KNOW WHO/WHERE THIS ‘MINA’ IS?”

@ProPro@Lugubrious@DracoLunaris@MULTI_MEDIA_MAN

---

Linkle ended up disappointed that there wasn't some sort of secret organization of helpful masters dotted across the landscape of this new world, each one eager and ready to push a certain group of heroic adventurers in the right direction.

He did, however, seem to know something about a lost eyes and Linkle leaned in eagerly only to be disappointed again as the master seemingly got cold feet about telling them. Cold feet, or he was playing hard to get! She gave him what she thought was a sly look. "Oh, I get it. We have to prove ourselves to get that kind of information. Well, challenge accepted."

In the spirit of getting on top of that challenge she turned turned to 6 as Bowser examined the dinner card. "I'll head out with you. That missing person, the wigglers, and the fish monsters are all to the south. We can just do all three." She didn't know what a wiggler was, but it sounded slime, disgusting, and (if what Boweser had to say about them was true) really strong. There was no point in him going off alone after something like that, especially some place so far from medical attention.

Before they could leave, though, they were greeted by an cat like man. At first Linkle didn't understand why the white haired warrior registered in her mind as "cat," but then she got a good look at his eyes. Slitted down the middle, like a kitties eyes. He asked whether they were newcomers, which Bowser took the time to answer and introduce them as his minions.

She poked her way out behind the Koopa King and gave Geralt a freimdly wave. "Hi Geralt, I'm Linkle, and if working together to make the world a better place make's me a minion then I guess that's what I am."

"This wear wolf friend of yours? She asked, wondering slightly what exactly a werewolf was. "They're not running around south of here, right?" She figured it was only right to ask. She didn't want to put off the locals by putting down one of their friends accidentally. She had been lucky nobody had been friends with that eagle robot.

Although not the most expeditious, Hat Kid’s ride south went smoothly, the gradual change in the landscape challenging her too little to affect that for her. The closest she came to a hiccup in her trip was when she found herself having to steer well wide of an enormous, scary-looking gorilla about as big as Bowser (when he wanted to be), but beside the occasional fauna, she spotted no other signs of life along the way. As far as she could tell, she was completely alone; she almost always was, so it was fine with her. It was good to have as little competition as possible, as thus far appeared to be the case.

After a while, her marker led her to a forest clearing at the southwestern edge of the province that bore no defined path inward but nonetheless formed an entrance that would be hard to mistake for accidental. The trail ended some ways in at an aged man-made entrance draped with overgrowth and tucked away amidst a couple of bare trees beneath a stone ceiling, which suggested something about its construction while raising questions about how anything grew there. For whatever reason, the door was left cracked by whoever went through it last, but it may not have been because they were leaving in a hurry. Her hat’s waypoint pointed inside still, with her Compass Badge attesting to the same, meaning whoever (or at least whatever) she was looking for lay further in. With her heading confirmed, she proceeded through, cracking the door once more and leaving her moped parked on the steps.

The interior of the first room was even more dense with un/natural growth, which made even less sense. The trees that closed the space in were thick enough to leave virtually no space between them. Even a bite-sized adolescent like herself would be hard-pressed to hazard fitting through the cracks, a gamble she might honestly prefer to sharing vine space with the giant spider that occupied it. It appeared to have hollowed out the decaying corpse of its last victim that now played host to it; something a child could have gone without seeing in person. Unless she felt like dealing with a parasitic arachnid (which she didn’t), taking where the stairs used to be was out.

She instead ascended the right totem and jumped to the adjacent tree fungus that made for an oddly serviceable foothold. Unfortunately, the distance from there to the next door was just too far for her to clear without coming dangerously close to the spider, but while she was there, she decided to check the pots around her for anything useful, only to end up accidentally nudging one from its perch. She nervously winced at her error when the sound of the brittle clay receptacle shattering against the floor rang out through the chamber at the risk of drawing the creature’s attention; this did give her an idea, however. If the spider approached, she would hang back in the shadow of the tree and wait for it to inspect the broken pottery before tossing another from cover to the closer corner of the back wall to draw it farther away. She would then carefully circumnavigate the room by platforming across the totems and other mushrooms, leaping and diving to the trunktop on the other side.

She aimed to be out of that room and into the next as quickly as possible, but found a second of momentary pause at the door when she failed budge it initially. Then with a firm push, the round, runic slab slid into place and all but wheeled itself out of the way, allowing the child ingress into the next chamber. Her eyes were drawn almost immediately to the center by the revolving glow of chromatic fire, and between them, her objective. The girl she was sent to find lay unconscious within the walls of flames that formed from the sconces and stood between her and the relatively easy fulfillment of her verbal contract… or so it would seem.

The child attempted to bound over flaming barrier, but as if possessing its own will to impede her, the phantasmal fires rose to hold her at bay. Strangely, it neither formed a solid surface for her to make contact against, nor did it burn her for trying. For all it amounted to, it may as well have been an invisible wall. She’d experienced this exact effect before, the remembrance of which prompted her to more carefully observe her surroundings. It was then she noticed that torchlight shone on the nearest corresponding corridor, clueing her in on how to solve the problem before her. Though, there was presently no clear deduction she could make as far as what the colors might represent or what order to do them in, but it did bear a haunting similarity to the Fire Spirits in Subcon Forest. If they were at all the same, they would each require a relatively simple condition be satisfied (that probably involved paintings, but there was no reason to assume that). All that was left was for her to decide which one to do first, and with little else to base her decision on, she drew from her last experience with this to make her choice… by starting with the orange one.

---

Neither of them really knew what to expect from itemizing the Smoker spirit, but the duo were nonetheless surprised, if unmoved by the result. From the destroyed soulmass a worn cricket bat materialized in Banjo’s hand, which alone took up the entire handle, so using it wouldn’t extend his reach by much. At any rate, melee weapons were largely foreign to the two of them, having never felt much of a need for them, but there was a chance that it might prove useful to them later. It was no multi-level, self-igniting greatsword outfitted with a combustion engine or anything...

With nothing left around for them to test their new bat on, Banjo tucked it away into his pack for later. Looking around at the now near empty scene that was but just seconds ago crawling with undead (and a pinch of hellspawn), there must not have been many heroes in the area. If there was, it would otherwise be hard to believe that they just left so many of these creatures alive (relatively speaking), given how quickly their small team was able to change that. Maybe all the other heroes were just busy… or in a hurry. The present heroes soon had that much in common as the demon hunter ushered them onward to aid the ‘boy band’ from before, who were currently in the middle of battling a heavier, stronger, muscular variant of zombie. Nero drew its attention off of the four boys the moment it entered his line of fire, outreaching that of Blazermate’s turret until she saw fit to drive it closer.

With Blazer in the driver’s seat, Banjo and Kazooie rode shotgun in their own vehicle while they moved up the street. This freed them to join in helping the others lay down fire on the massive Infected. Taking a seat at the rightmost edge of the Trolley, Banjo drew Kazooie from his backpack, brandishing her like a firearm, mimed the pump action of a shotgun, and let loose a six round volley of accelerated blue orbs, erm... eggs, to pile on to the damage the creature was already sustaining. The closer the kart got to the massive zombie with the turret and seat gunner/s going to work on it, the more they drew its ire, and the clearer it became that they were doing little more than further aggravating it as it charged them head-on like a gorilla, undeterred. Thankfully, the Koopa Prince, who warped in unexpectedly while no one was looking, picked this as a good time to warp back before anyone had to explain anything to his dad.

Seeing that they weren’t going to give the roided beast any pause or stop it from ramming them, Banjo tucked and rolled out over the rail of the Trolley, forcefully thrusting both feet like a spring at the vehicle’s side in an attempt to knock it and himself out of the way. He wouldn’t move the kart by much, but perhaps it might tip enough to help Blazer and her machines avoid a direct hit, for a hit was guaranteed and their current speed and distance. The vehicle was sent flying, and with it, its occupants, and Banjo managed to quickly put Kazooie away before hitting the ground in a log roll. The two recovered prone, looking up to see the others picking up the slack to keep pressure on the Tank from on high and up close. From their grounded position, Banjo leapt forward on all fours (yes, like a bear) with Kazooie poking out of the backpack to spit their two remaining fire eggs at the brutish zombie. By this time, Nero had finished making his move against it, so the duo were unfortunately unaware of him having planted a bomb on it that was liable to explode in the faces of any one of their allies that were hacking or pummeling away at the monster if any of the flames were to touch it. So much for watching their friendly fire...