@Lugubrious@ProPro@Stekkmen@Yankee@MULTI_MEDIA_MAN

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Linkle didn't have hardly any time to celebrate sinking both those shots into the monsters neck before it let out a scream that crashed into her like an enraged Bracyadose. Her whole body shook, he crossbows clattering to the ground as her hands went instinctively and uselessly to her ears.

he couldn't block it out, the noise being carried down her rabbit ears to shake her brain. She stumbled back in a daze as it ended, her vision blurry, one set of ears ringing like bells and the other still well enough to recognize the rhythmic thump thump thump made by the footfalls of a charging animal.

It occurred to Linkle that she hadn't given thought to what she would do if the explosions didn't go off, or weren't powerful enough to stop the monsters charge. Like with most Linkle Ideas™ the consequences were just something to be dealt with after. The obvious answer was get out of the way but that wasn't happening until she got her legs back under her and judging by how loud those stomps were getting she didn't have that kind of time

She threw out her arms instead in a desperate attempt to mitigate the damaged from getting blown up again. Oh Hylia if this didn't work out she was going to get blown up again! A full on explosion this time too, not just a close call. She was pretty tough, it wouldn't kill her outright, but she'd seen what this thing had done to Bowser. She wasn't as tough as Bowser!

As these felling built up, powered on by the stress she was under, something strange began to happen. The temperature around her began dropping rapidly. Her hair started to sparkle in the golden light then lifted unnaturally and in a flash transformed from blond to blue. Ice started to coalesce in front of her outstretched hand, growing and growing until it formed a crude and uneven semicircle of waist high ice wall.

Of course she didn't have the time to appreciate what she'd just done either, because at that point the crystals went off just like she planned and sent new sharp pains into her already tender ears. She wasn't even in any position to appreciate the incredible monster\dragon throwdown going on almost right in front of her.

In a small puff of smoke final Koopa striker ran out its timer and its sprite returned to Bowser Junior. The match was over, and the Koopa troop had come out well ahead of the farmhands, of which none remained standing. Kamek had being incredibly effective once he no longer had to worry about protecting him, Bowser Jr thought glumly. The young prince was equally depressed about the fact that he was now preventing his father from participating in the battle, even if being cradled in Bowser’s grasp was comforting.

While the king kept jr and hat kid out of harm's way the battle raged on around him. It may have been coming to a close now that most of the thing’s forces had been dealt with but danger still remained. One of the last of the abominations, an invisible horse of some kind, managed to harm the human sniper Michael before Linkle revealed it with a shower of explosives and Peach blasted it clean in half with her shotgun.

It was fair to say that while Bowser was mainly looking out for danger that might threaten the children he couldn’t help but keep one eye on the Princess as she raced around the battlefield. While from Bowser’s experience his unrequited love hadn’t exactly been a slouch when it came to fighting but here and now she was on fire. As much as that might cause issues for him down the line he couldn’t help but admire her as she made mincemeat of their enemies.

The other threat remaining was the Brachydios. It, however, was in the middle being mobbed now that it was the only really notable threat on the battlefield. Nearly everyone who wasn’t out of action or dealing with the plow horse was getting stuck in. This included Kamek who, after he had finished his coaching of the Dry Bones’ football attack (sending them to guard Bowser’s side after they were done) and dropped off Mimikyu so the Pokemon could keep jr company, had swooped over to lend the rest of the team his support by casting his enlarging spell on the wounded and imperiled Courier.

This ganging up by the heroes, while clearly effective, did run the risk of them getting in each other's way, something perfectly exemplified by the arrival of the Ace Cadet at Bowser’s feet after he was blown off of their quarry’s back by the appearance of a friendly dragon. Rather than get up and rejoin the very busy fray the warrior instead approached Bowser to offer the king a healing potion for his messed up face.

”WHAT? YEAH SURE THAT WOULD BE GREAT BUT MY HANDS ARE A BIT FULL” Bower replied when offered, referring to the two children he was carrying.

Not wanting to continue to be a burden to his father any longer Jr insisted that ”I’m fine papa, you can let go of me now.” before attempting to clamber his way out of his position pressed against Bowser’s chest.

”Hmm. Alright here,” Bowser said as he lifted his son up and popped him on his shoulder, ”sit tight.”

Then he reached down, took the proffered potion with a nod of thanks, and downed it in one big gulp. The healing quickly suffused into his body and began mending what it could of Bowser’s injuries.

”AHHH, that’s better,” Bowser sighed contently as the pain dulled thanks to the Ace’s tonic.

”Now. Hmm,” Bowser glanced around the battlefield for something to do as he pocketed the potion bottle and added it to his collection. The Ace was handling the rest of the horse and the chaotic mess that was the Brachydios was a bad place to go while carrying children, so Bowser decided to deal with something safer. ”Lets get your car back,” he said to Jr before stomping off to retrieve Jr’s Clown car that had been freely floating about after the boy had been knocked out of it earlier.

Jak had a small, barely noticeable grin that nonetheless held a large amount of joy, the kind of look you’d expect to find on someone who’s more than a little crazy. The yellow eco container attached to his morph gun filled up to the brim, giving him unlimited access to his gunplay once more. Now that’s what it’s all about! He couldn’t wait to try out this new harpoon setting courtesy of that felled angel. The discussion of radios to keep in touch barely registered over his enthusiasm for the new gun mode and unrestricted access to mowing down enemies.

By contrast, Ratchet paid very close attention to what Captain Howard had to say. It made sense that someone from a world with vastly superior technology would overlook something as simple and primitive as a radio. Heck, Ratchet almost forgot to think of it himself! Good thing he had Clank to keep him on task.

Then Jill, the officer at the computer, reported some news about a fight, not that they needed her confirmation. Gunshots were rather loud after all. Someone needed to get to some civilians and others needed to check out what was going on with that fight. Plus something about some pages taken by someone named Lucatiel, there was so much going on it was hard to keep it all together, wasn’t it?

”We’ll go to the West side for the civilians,” Jak said rather curtly.

Daxter shook his head surprised. ”Go to the civilians? The safe job? Jak, buddy, not that I don’t appreciate it, but are you ok? Didn’t take one too many hits to the noggin?” Daxter knocked on his friend’s head a couple times. ”Why aren’t you jumping at the chance to throw us into the most dangerous, deadly situation?”

Jak shook his head. ”You heard him. Killer’s blending in with the civilians.”

Daxter audibly gulped, then comically fell to the floor. Jak practically had to drag his little buddy by the leg before Daxter willingly got up and walked on his own power.

”I’m heading for the fight,” Ratchet added. ”If this guy wants to kill some more, there’s a good chance he’s causing the ruckus. Besides, we need those pages from Lucatiel.”

Then Blazermate offered to come with, and asked if Ratchet could carry them both. ”Sure, Clank mostly stays in spirit form until I need him anyway, and I’m pretty strong.” He hefted up his large omniwrench to show off before stowing it away again. ”Anybody is welcome to come with me.”

With that, the lombax was off.

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The hit was a big success! The brachydios showered blood down from its neck, tons of shotgun pellets opening a large wound where the monster would have one of its largest, most crucial veins! The cherry on top was an extra hit that Linkle struck into the wound, unexpected and uncalculated for on the Courier’s part but a boon nonetheless! If the group were smart, they’d know all they had to do was to pull back and let the monster bleed to death. Honestly it wouldn’t take long, maybe a few minutes at most and it’d grow weaker, slower, and more tired the whole way through. Pulling back was the safest, most prudent option.

So of course everyone did the exact opposite of that! Not like the thought occurred to the Courier himself, being a crazy wild card and all. Where’s the fun in dropping such a big monster through those sorts of tactics? Naw, he intended to be close enough to see it draw its last breath and that meant he had a front row seat to watching the damn thing get all kinds of messed up by the makeshift minefield he and his donphan had made (which was completely intentional and not accidental in any way whatsoever, everything went perfectly according to plan). What happened next though? Definitely not in the plan.

The brachydios went on a rampage and charged, with the Courier right in its path! It wasn’t an intentional attack on him, the beast was simply crazed at this point, but that hardly mattered in the slightest. Under normal circumstances he couldn’t beat the monster in a foot race. Only one thing could save him: another dose of Turbo courtesy of the GRX implant. But with only 3 doses left and 24 hours to refill, could he risk it against future challenges? Well he couldn’t exactly risk getting stomped into paste here, could he?

Unfortunately activating the GRX was a process that required concentration and took a second to kick in, time that he didn’t have. Everything turned to slow motion, but not from the chem in his brain. It was the sensation of time slowing when one realizes they are in mortal peril. The brachydios’s large front claw slammed against his torso with a sickening crack and the Courier went tumbling away. His duster, more durable than it looked, and his sub-dermal armor protected him from being outright killed, but only just. He coughed up blood and groaned despite the pain, a sensation he practically lived with by now, and forced himself up by the palms of his hands. The Courier gazed upon the battlefield for his animals and quickly caught sight of them. Drumstick was keeping her distance, only a mount and not a trained combat animal. Ivories followed through on its last order and pursued any remaining husks. The proud donphan with a warrior’s heart had caught sight of the horse-like monster attacking their sniper and was rolling at high speed to slam into it.

”Ugh… Come out… Bug… Foot.” In a flash of light the heracross emerged from its pokeball, ready to help.

“Hera! Cross cross! Heracross!” It pounded its bug-fists together ready for a fight, but quickly was taken aback by the sight of its trainer. “Heracross?” it said both confused and worried.

”Help me up.” Bugfoot immediately set to do so, grabbing the Courier by his shoulders and lifting him to his feet. The Courier then used this extra stability to grab two items from his bag: a stimpack in one hand, and the Equalizer pickaxe. It’s special properties immediately filled him with incredible strength, allowing him to stand all his own again. ”Thanks. I got it from here…” he trailed off, staring the brachydios in the eye.

“Heracross!” Bugfoot gave a heartfelt salute with a giant smile (as much as a bug can smile) before vanishing back into his pokeball.

What happened next was rather unexpected. The koopa wizard Kamek came by, casting his gigantification spell on the Courier. Woah, he suddenly got… Big. Huh. The feeling, it was, well, it didn’t dull the incredibly pain he fought through but that’s what the stimpack was for. ”Much obliged, pardner,” he said before glaring back at the brachydios one last time. ”HEY VARMINT! HOW’S ABOUT YOU CHECK OUT MY BIG IRON?”

And with that the Courier charged forth, screaming bloody murder. It didn’t matter that he had cracked ribs or internal bleeding. It didn’t matter that even with the gigantification was was still a fair bit smaller than the monster. Self preservation? He lost that instinct a long time ago, already a walking dead man. Right now he was just a courier with a message, and that message was thus: In the wasteland, you don’t fuck with the mailman!

Courier 6 closed the gap, pickaxe in hand. GRX implant activated: 2 doses remain. He swung the Equalizer hard as he could at the monster’s head, then again and again and again. His swings were untrained, but they were brutal and they were powerful. A couple swings weren’t angled right and bounced off the creature’s armored hide, but more made their mark until finally he only had one more swing’s worth of turbo-time left. He brought it up from under, aiming to embed the pickaxe into the open wound his shotgun made. He swung with such force that he broke the handle, rendering the weapon utterly worthless. Time returned to normal, his strength reduced to nearly nothing in the face of his injuries, and the Courier injected himself with the stimpack before bleeding out.

The wiggler hat activated, spreading the stimpack’s healing qualities to the posse all around, skipping over the brachydios itself. It wasn’t going to completely heal the Courier of his wounds, but if the damn thing survived then he’d at least be able to tango with it again.

Linkle's plan worked. Geralt had to stop and cover his ears at its enraged roar, but her plan to trick the beast into harming itself worked like a dream. The Brachydios charged at her, and activated the strange crystals, which exploded under it. The kids seemed to get hurt a bit by it, too, but they were hanging in there.

Frankly, the others were absolutely devastating the Brachydios. Between Euden transforming once more into his dragon form and pinning the gigantic monster to the ground, the Cadet stabbing it in the eye, the metal girl transforming and started pounding into its back, the princess was shooting it in the head with her strange-looking weapon, and the Courier had been boosted to massive size and was pounding an equally-massive pickaxe into its skull, the monster was on its last legs.

Geralt was in there as well, having taken his spot alongside the monster's exposed belly. Slipping silver from its sheathe, Geralt unleashed a torrent of flames at the monster's underside with Igni, before thrusting his sword into the soft, exposed flesh and cutting away. While the Courier was bashing its skull into fragments and Poppi was shattering its spine, Geralt was making its insides into outsides.

When the Courier finally ceased his relentless assault with his now-broken weapon, he stepped back and removed a small needle-like instrument from his pack and injected it into himself, which activated the....patently absurd hat he was wearing. It was effective, though, because Geralt felt himself coming together as the effects of whatever it was the Courier had just used spread to him. Sighing in relief, he withdrew his sword from the Brachydios, confident that somebody had to have left it dead or close enough. He still watched the monster for signs of life, however. Overconfidence may be a slow and insidious killer, but a monster that size?

One lucky hit was all it would take for most of them. Geralt was sort of undead, living, proof of that. Pitchforks...whoresons!

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Death had sought a way out of this place ever since he first arrived in this strange land. A way to get back to his own world so he could finish the mission he set out for in the first place, to free War from his imprisonment by the Charred Council. Despite his efforts, however, he was not able to achieve this task and nothing he has done so far brought him any closer to finding a way back to his world. Death has since redirected his goal to rejoining the former group he was once apart of. There was still so much of this new world that he did not yet understand and he thought seeking his former partners would be beneficial given that they probably knew more than him. He still remembered some of them, especially the two he fought beside in that canyon, Zer0 and The Courier. Death had to venture back to the place he originally abandoned the group and follow along the path that they took, utilising clues and whatnot to do so. Eventually, The Rider was able to track the trail of the group into a dark, nightmarish area ripe with all manners of evil known as the Dead Zone. Ghouls and monstrosities of all sorts were very much prevalent in this area and Death regularly had to fight his way through the creatures just to navigate through the place. It was a difficult task as ever since he first awoke in this strange land, he had become weak, not as strong as he once was. Most of his capabilities that he had prior were lost or weakened and he has not been able to regain them as of yet which meant that he had to fight hard just to survive.

Luckily, he had begun to get closer and closer to the source of the trail he was following. Soon enough he should able to reach the group he was attempting to meet up with, wherever they were. The Reaper had eventually found himself in some form of subway station. As usual, there were a few unholy creatures lurking about that Death had to quickly dispose of. It took some time due to his weakened nature but once it was done The Pale Rider was about to continue on his search for this group when he felt a presence that made him stop in his tracks for a moment, a familiar one at that. It felt as though this presence belonged to something he had faced back in his world but he couldn’t quite place exactly why. He waited for this presence, whoever it belonged to, to reveal itself.

From beneath his bony mask he scoured the station with molten orange eyes. With the wandering dead that pervaded it slain, themselves far meatier than the ancient corpses strewn about the post-apocalyptic earth he knew, a profound stillness filled the entire place. In the dusty silence the horseman could hear even the most subtle noises as if they were thunderclaps. Drip-drip-drip went a sprikler system near a jagged seam in the concrete ceiling, its pipes no doubt damaged by whatever rupture left the crack. The faintest whistle of wind passed over the exit a few hundred feet away, where stairs led up to the surface.

Naturally, when ponderous, plodding footfalls began to echo through the station, he could hear them clear as day.

The sudden loudness proved to be a problem, however. The noise resounded through the whole area, its source nearly impossible to locate. Death did not need to wait long to find out, though. An explosion of bricks and dust from one of the walls shattered the ominous peace that had settled over the station, and through the opening heaved a hulking mound of misshapen flesh. It had no eyes, but it could sense the horseman, and it released a wordless, guttural bellow that shook the underground. Putting one pimpled trunk in front of the other, it approached, its cages clutched like massive flails ready to pound Death into paste.

The Horseman immediately jumped back in response to the lumbering abomination moving his way towards him. One quick glance and Death knew this would not be an easy foe to take down, especially not in this weakened state he was still in. He was going to have be careful with this encounter or this could turn bad really quickly. From what he was able to gather on the beast’s appearance, it would not be easy for him to cut through it with his scythes like he had been able to with the monsters he had encountered previously.

Faced with an overbearing foe, Death chose to bide his time and wait for a good opportunity. The jailer, however, charged forward, letting out and then swinging one of its chains. A bulky, dented cage flew up in an overhead arc, careening down at the Horseman from above.

Seeing the attack coming due to his patience, Death rolled to the side to avoid the blow. He saw this as an opportune time to counter attack while the creature was recovering from its attack. The Horseman used the beast’s arm as a way to get closer to its upper half. Once up there, Death began swiping his scythes at anything that seemed even remotely like flesh. He wanted to see just how much damage he did to this thing while also making sure to look out for any sign of a potential weak point. He didn’t have much time left before the beast would recover and notice exactly where he was so The Reaper prepared himself for another possible attack, if that creature could even reach up here.

Death’s scythe-blades cut deeply into its blobby skin, drawing copius amounts of vile brownish blood, but they didn’t seem to hit anything vital. The Jailer swatted at him ineffectively, bulky and slow. Only when the shriveled yellow corpse inside the cage on its chest mimed a thrashing motion did the demon take real action, bucking like a wild bronco to throw Death off. It threw one of its cage-flails over its shoulder, trying to crush Death if he didn’t get off.

The Jailer attempted to get The Horseman off to no success but what really caught Death’s eye was the corpse that was inside one of the cages attached to The Jailer’s body. The beast seemed to mimic whatever action the caged creature performed and he made sure to take note of that. The frantic bucking and swaying the abomination had started forced Death to latch his scythes into its skin to keep himself steady. It had worked and he wasn’t in danger of being thrown off anymore but that was before he noticed a rogue cage flinging back straight at him. Death managed to pull his scythes out of the gross flesh and in front of him to block the impact but the force of it sent him flying off The Jailer anyway. Luckily, he landed on his feet and it took only a short moment for him to steady himself, ready to continue the fight.

With a screech, the controller body directed the bleeding Jailer to attack. Three pustule clusters on its swollen left side turned from greenish to angry red, pulsing like infected sores. Wheeling its cage-flail around, the Jailer started windmilling it in a circle, like a gigantic, bone-crashing lasso sending sparks up from the ground as it whirled. With the limited confines of the subway station, the flail almost covered the whole horizontal area, and as the Jailer moved forward it threatened to bash Death with vicious force.

Death, upon thinking about the situation, had come to the conclusion that the creature in the cage was the one giving commands to the bigger of the two. However, there was no way he could get to it with The Jailer still alive. So Death’s first course of action was to deal with this beast and fast. Unfortunately, the creature had started its next attack with a wide spinning sweep. Thinking fast, The Horseman turned and ran up the wall of the subway behind him until he was high enough to where he was just out of range of the beasts flailing. Once he was, Death pushed himself from the wall, launching himself at the monstrosity again. This time he planned to deal with the unusual looking clusters that had appeared on its left side as he thought that it was too obvious for that not to be a weakness of some kind.

A speedy wallrun brought Death out of the way of the cage just in time, causing it to strike the masonry instead in a burst of dust and stone chips. The shock of the impact jarred the Jailer out of its rage, causing the pustules to lose their red color. It also allowed Death to fling himself onto its body and cleave into the luminous warts with his scythes, splattering them in quick succession. Instantly the Jailer slumped over in pain, the skulls all across its grotesque form rattling, and out of the central cage popped the undead, looking bewildered.

The Reaper’s plan had worked like a charm and he had successfully managed to slay the foul fiend. He jumped off of The Jailer as it fell, landing safely on the ground as the large creature toppled over completely. Now all that was left was the one that was in the cage. Death didn’t want to take any unnecessary risks and finished the job quickly, coming from behind the grotesque looking monster and slicing it clean in half.

However, all was not as good as it seemed. The slash dug deep into the controller’s body, but before it could bite clean through, the whole Jailer spasmed to life again, throwing Death off. It staggered to its feet, the cage door slamming shut on its controller, before the undead burned with green, spectral flame. It shook itself like a wet dog, dislodging a couple cadavers that rose, bone swords in hand, to run at Death.

The Horseman rolled backwards to create some distance between the newly summoned minions and himself. This certainly was becoming a much more difficult task that what was initially thought. The minions rushed at him and Death prepared himself to intercept. Cutting them down quickly and effectively, he made sure to keep one eye on the Jailer in case the abomination attempted to strike him again with its cage flail.

Lowly undead made for little challenge, but even as they toppled back into death, the Jailer came at the nephilim once more. It stepped forward as though to swing its cage-flail, but right before it let rip the controller twisted in the opposite direction, and the Jailer lurched forward to try and bash Death with the cage lodged in its flesh-mass.

The Horseman had not expected such and action from the terrible monstrosity and it had caught him off guard a second time. Death moved to dodge out of the way but wasn’t able to make it all the way. A part of his body had been hit by The Jailer’s cage bash and Death sprawled out onto the floor mid-roll due to this. Things weren’t looking too good for The Pale Rider but he picked himself up from the ground nonetheless. He wasn’t about to give up so easily. Death thought to try that trick he had attempted on the creature beforehand. It had found success then, surely that success could be repeated.

With ugly laughter, the Jailer stepped forward to finish Death off. It swung its flail again, sweeping from right to left. The attack flew out to meet him without any regard for his surroundings, including a bench, a couple of trash cans, and a pillar.

Again Death jumped high into the air to get clear of the creature’s massive sweep attack. After which he would land on the thing’s arm and run along the mass of bulbous flesh to get to its warts. Killing the beast now should give him enough time to finally put an end to the true mastermind of the two, who was still safely locked in his little cage. Once more the monster fell, incapacitated, and the caged undead was vulnerable. Just in case, Death checked over the Jailer’s corpse to make sure it wouldn’t come back a third time before turning his attention towards the corpse. The Reaper connected his to scythes together into one long scythe-staff, stabbing the weapon into the thing’s gut and wrenched it. The corpse then split in half, its top half slowly sliding off and onto the ground, finishing the wound he had inflicted on this corpse previously.

Death had won the fight but he had been injured during it, which wasn’t good. He wouldn’t be able to fight that effectively in his current state, not against the monsters that prowled this desolate place.Stepping out of the subway station and back onto the main streets, Death observed his surroundings once more to see if there was anywhere he could take shelter. He ended up continuing along the trail the group he was tracking had left behind that he was able to pick up on. It took some time and Death had to avoid most of his encounters that he would have in order to avoid any conflict and potentially more injury. Eventually, a peculiar building stood out to him among all the others and this was the RCPD. The Horseman thought that if anyone was around, it would be there and so he moved to enter.

Against his instincts, Fox left the others to nurse their wounds as he made a mad dash for the main hall. He knew that personnel should not be traveling alone, but not everybody moved as fast as he. Little more than an orange blur through the corridors, leaving bluish afterimages in his wake, he sped past any potential danger and ended up almost slamming through Ratchet. “Whoa!” Fortunately having reflexes as fast as his feet, he angled himself a few degrees to the side as he slid to a stop. He was talking before he came to a full halt, although he needed a second take to confirm that Blazermate was in fact riding on his shoulders somehow.

“Everyone's okay!” he declared, his voice jubilant. The papers flapped in his hands. “And I got the clues. Lucatiel just forgot, is all. C'mon, let's hurry back to the others! Might be able to catch 'em before they head out.” He fell silent as he looked over his shoulder, seeing no sign of anyone following him. “Although, you might want to head over to Luca and the others. Leon and that tattoo guy are with her. Up to you, but I've gotta disseminate this info.” After an affirming nod he sped off again.

A few moments later he reached the main hall. Pretty much everyone was there, except the masked kid, Louis, and one or two others. Even Kai had returned from her patrol, no wounds or anything. “Listen up, everyone!” he shouted excitedly. “Here's everything we need to know about the ghost. It's called a 'Preta'.” Clearing his throat, he started to read.

“Preta Insight. A Preta is a type of ghost widely known throughout Buddhism, Hinduism, and related religions,” he began, mispronouncing the unfamiliar words. “It is said to be a ghost that suffers wit heternal hunger and thirst. There is a belief that those who committed deadly sins, such as thievery, while living will be reborn as a Preta. Thai people also believe that harming your parents will result in direct rebirth as a Preta. The Preta is usually depicted as a tall creature, as tall as a palm tree, a hand as big as a fan-palm leaf, and a mouth as small as a pinhole. It will live its life suffering...uh, with all the sins it has done.”

Howard looked at Banjo, Kazooie, and Ms. Fortune for confirmation. The catgirl nodded, her expression unusually serious.

“Chapter 2. A Preta is a lost soul trapped in the eternal torture from its sin. The agonizing hunger and thirst cause it to mourn painfully and creepily all night long. A food offering is the only way to calm the wandering Preta. Set up an offering on the table with colorful tablecloth and one lit scented incense. One, put food on the tableware. Two, put a scented stick on one of the...tableware. And three, light the scented incense.”

Murmurs spread throughout the room. The situation was still bleak, but Fox's instructions seemed very definitive. If the ghost could be banished, the impassable darkness surrounding the station would surely fade. Things weren't exactly good out there, but with a serial killer on the loose in here, it suddenly seemed like a much better option.

"Nice going," Captain Howard congratulated him. "We'll be out of here in no time."

Of course, the Preta needed to be dealt with first. But who would bell the cat? Kai, having been observing everything going on, observed, “Funnily enough, it looks like we have all we need. Incense, tableware, and food.” She glanced at the cup noodles retrieved by Donnie earlier. “As long as it doesn't have much taste.”

Ghalt snickered. “Anything tastes good if you're hungry.”

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Level: 1
EXP 3/10
Word Count: 2,856
Current Location: Dead Zone, RCPD (Chief's Office >> Third Floor)

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Carrying the treasures salvaged from the private collection room, Nero made for the main hall, leaving Joker to follow. The young thief lagged behind somewhat, still on the hunt for some discovery, and it was that unwillingness to throw in the towel so soon that led to his first real find. As he followed in Nero`s footsteps back toward the safe area, a faint noise reached him. Its quietness, borne not of weakness but distance and obstruction, almost prevented its identification, but Joker could tell what it was. A scream of genuine terror, welling from the depths of the chest and pumped through a ragged throat, drifting to him from the above.

Part of the third floor could be seen from Joker`s current position, since it too had a walkway that ran around the perimeter of the main hall, but unlike the second floor no stairs provided a way up to it.

There had to be a way up there. Despite not wanting to leave Nero alone so suddenly, the thief couldn't couldn't shrug off the fact that there was someone in danger. So Joker allowed his third eye to guide him, looking for a way up. Though he felt like he had to hurry, or it would be too late to save them, whoever they are.

While no convenient ladders or chandeliers appeared to be hanging around, there existed enough for nimble hands and sharp wit to exploit. Before him stood a bannister by the stairs, a hefty wooden railing running parallel to the great window stretching up the main hallls back wall, and finally another bannister. Climbing atop it would lend enough height that a good jump could get Joker a grip on the elaborate archway holding up part of the third floor walkway, and from there he could climb up to the third floor. With the lack of footholds, it meant a lot of strain on any prospective fingers and biceps to hoist oneself up, but short of a grappling hook nothing would be faster.

"Note to self, get Mona to help me make a grappling hook." Joker said, as the thief made his way through the quickest path up for him. It took a bit of stubbornness to pull himself up, with the strain working against him.

The sound from before led him down the walkway. One after another he tried the doors he encountered, making a steady loop around the third floor, but all were locked until the last. When he tugged open the eastward door, which lay almost directly above where he stood when he heard the scream. Its handle offered significant resistance, and when it slid open, an eerie fog spilled forth. A wall of mist hung in the threshold, and when he crossed it Joker found himself in a room far larger than East Storage had any right to be. All sorts of junk lay strewn about and piled high, some up to the ceiling. The stink of fear hung in the air, and of ozone, riddled with the sickly-sweet smell of blood.

A few feet away, a young woman sat huddled against a crate. She held her head, her palms in her eyes, rubbing furiously as if to try and dispel some sort of affliction.

Joker carefully approached the woman, not wanting to scare her. "Miss? Is everything alright, are you hurt?" He asked her, searching through his pockets for some medicine in the case that she needed it.

The girl responded to his presence instantly, indicating lucidity. She looked up from her hands, regarding Joker briefly with suspicion in her eyes. It soon faded, however, leaving only the fatigue and sharpness of long suffering. "Shut up!" she whispered, creeping up to look over the crate. "Fine for now, but not if he sees us." The word carried a certain gravity, and the moment she said it, Joker could feel a certain tension. Some sort of presence, not too far away, was quickening his beating heart.

He visibly tensed up, pulling out his rebel knife. With his free hand, Joker offered to help the girl up. "I can help you out of here, I know a few others that can protect you, if you can trust me on this." He whispered, looking around cautiously.

A blank stare. "You're...going to try and fight him?" A humorless chuckle escaped her. "Good luck." Still, she took his hand and got up into a ready crouching position. Movement farther inside the room caught her attention, and she narrowed her eyes to watch with bated breath.

The two saw a man stumble around a corner, knocking over a few cans. He moved with desperation rather than caution, and the reason why soon became apparent. A red glare fell upon his back, a baleful, evil luminance, and a moment later a doctor appeared. He held in one hand a crude, brutal-looking beatstick, and around the other danced sizzling bolts of electricity. His target's gaffe prompted him to raise his hand and release a crackling wave that rolled over the man and across the floor. The corrupt spark flooded his system, tearing a terrified wail from his throat, and in his panic he could not evade a crushing blow from the doctor's blackjack. Blood flew as pain spurred the wounded man onward, giving him a precious moment of speed to escape a deadly second blow. He darted past a pallet and threw it down to block the doctor's path, and when the killer stopped to kick it to pieces, he escaped into the gloom.

Joker's new acquaintance had clamped her hands over her mouth to avoid screaming herself. Clearly his corrupt spark had touched her too.

The thief cursed under his breath as he watch the Doctor attack the man. He drew his handgun and fired at the killer to draw attention to himself. "Stay behind me!" Joker told the girl, getting into his fighting stance.

For a moment the sound of gunshots confused the killer, as though he'd never heard them before. The bullets, aimed hastily and in the dark, did not strike him, but the image of a survivor exposed and vulnerable filled his vision. With eyes and mouth pried open by disturbing instruments, he let out a wild cackle and started to move. He approached with long, purposeful strides, forgoing electricity to ready to blackjack instead.

As the Doctor started to approach him, Joker brought a hand up to his mask. "Come, Arsene!" In a blue flame, the mask burned away, a shadow obscuring most of his face. Behind him, his persona appeared in the same flames, though Arsene could have been mistaken for another demon, something about him was different.

Joker commanded the phantom to use Eiha against the killer, before the thief slashed at him with his knife.

The spell struck the Doctor dead-on, but the hulking killer bulled through the dark magic. Rather than trying to dodge Joker stood his ground and lashed out with his knife, yet still his adversary didn't stop. He took the dagger's cuts without flinching, already having raised his club. He slammed it down on Joker with outrageous strength, halving his health in one mighty blow.

Well, brute force went south. The thief was lucky to still be standing. Or alive for that matter. He just hoped he could distract the Doctor long enough for the two survivors to get to safety, but it was obvious he wouldn't be able to defeat the killer by himself.

Motioning his acquaintance to get out while she could, Joker lured the Doctor away from the entrance as best as he was able to. Maybe there was something he could use among the junk to help?

The girl only glanced incredulously in the direction of Joker`s motioning, at the impassable fog wall in the doorway, before sprinting away herself. She pivoted around a stack and headed in the direction taken by the other survivor. If her actions were anything to judge by, escaping was not an option at the moment. Meanwhile, the Doctor began his pursuit. He began to pursue his new target with gusto, relishing the chase.

The thief kept firing his gun at the killer, focused on evading any attacks targeted at him. Playing Cat and Mouse with a deranged psychopath wasn't really a good idea, if he was honest, but he could trap him if he timed things right.

A few stray bullets struck the Doctor, but he kept on coming. His huge, intentful strides allowed him to marginally outpace Joker, not by much, but by enough that he grew steadily closer and closer, that perilous red glare falling heavier and heavier on the thief`s back. Around him shelves, boxes, and various items rose like the walls of a hedge maze, hemming him in and limiting his options, but those same objects provided a glimmer of hope. If he could collect his thoughts long enough to suppress the primeval terror of being chased, a whole assortment of potential gambits lay within his grasp, waiting to be used.

Then, the idea hit him. If he could find and gather enough supplies, the thief could quickly make some megido bombs and such to give himself an advantage. Joker maneuvered around the Doctor to grab what he can. He had to get the killer off his trail, so he decided first to make a smoke bomb to help him hide.

A near missed crushed an antique clock instead of Joker`s head as he swerved around an obstacle. The Doctor moved around it to resume the chase, but he`d lost ground. When it came to a straight line he could evidently outpace any survivor, but his cornering wasn`t quite so fast. When given a moment Joker rummaged in the darkness, searching for anything of use to make a bomb. If the encounter had happened in an armory, he might have been in luck, but there was too much to sort through. After a few moments another survivor, noticing Joker`s predicament, shouted to get the Doctor`s attention. The killer looked away only a moment, but it was enough for the dark-clothed youth to slip away into the shadows, and without hesitation the Doctor started off after his new prey.

A few tense moments passed. Then Joker ran right into the other male survivor from before. "Get down!" he urged, crouching behind a ratty sofa. A pitiful look lurked behind his glasses. "You new? Nevermind, we have a sec. Let`s heal each other." Without any prompting the guy started patting Joker down, and in bizarre fashion, his health actually started to return. He healed the thief right back to full, then waited expectantly.

Joker nodded to the other male. Once healed, he used the bit of medicine he had with him to heal the other male as thanks. "How long has everyone in here been dealing with that guy?" He asked him, worried for the survivors.

The guy`s face became the picture of resignation. "A very long time. Not always the same place, or the same killer, or the same people. Sometimes we power on the generators and escape. Sometimes we die." Still on alert, he glanced above the sofa. In the distance, the red light emanating from the Doctor illuminated the helpful man from earlier on his shoulder. "The killer can`t off us himself. He downs us, then puts us on the hooks, and the Entity takes us away. If we had a flashlight we could blind the killer to let that guy escape, or pull down a pallet, or just wait `til he`s on the hook and pull him off." He spoke matter-of-factly, all too familiar with his subject material.

"Think there's any flashlights in the boxes? Or a generator nearby?" Joker asked him. He couldn't really hide the disbelief on his face that no one else in the area knew about them, or the nutcase in a doctor's coat.

His new acquaintance nodded. "Yeah, just look around. Two generators are online already. Saw another along that wall." With a tilt of his head he pointed out the north-facing wall. "But even if we do escape this trial, we`ll be thrown into another soon enough. It`s a vicious cycle."

He couldn't believe it. There had to be a way to help them escape, to break the cycle, but what? "...Has any of you tried fighting back?"

An incredulous shake of the head was his reply. "We`re just normal people, man. Hungry, tired, scared. The killers are brutal. We can`t fight back."

"I might be able to help you with that." The thief weakly smiled a bit. "Though I sure as hell can't fight him myself, we might need the others to help."

The announcement provoked a miserable chuckle. "Yeah? How?"

"There's more than one way to win a fight." Joker looked around. "We can set up a trap to deal a heavy enough blow to him to finish him off, but it'd take too long to go through all this junk normally."

The guy shook his head. "Lead the way, then."

"Call me Joker." The thief introduced himself. "And you're...?"

"Dwight Fairfield," he replied, as if it didn`t matter.

Thanks to the info he got from Dwight, Joker knew how to set his plan in motion. Before the Doctor could string up another survivor on a hook, him and the others could force him onto it instead. The thief gathered a few flashlights, and a couple of med-kits just in case they had to heal someone. The construction materials were set up to trip the Doctor, with the furniture acting as the hiding spots for the survivors.

Now to wait.

The Doctor worked tirelessly. A sudden change in the atmosphere interrupted the stakeout, and part of the ceiling turned to ashes. Long, black limbs, spiderlike and spiked, extended downward over another hook at the other end of the large room. As Joker and Dwight watched, they pierced the survivor hung there -the man from earlier- and pulled a soul from his body to carry away into the void. Dwight shook his head; there was nothing he could do now. A scream reached the two, and after shifting his angle Dwight could see the Doctor picking the girl up and carrying her on his shoulder. He made a beeline for the hook, only to come to a stop. Some crap had been piled in his way right in front of it, short enough to step over but still irritating. With a grunt the Doctor started smashing the makeshift `trap` using his foot, while the girl wiggled furiously.

A risky move, Joker grabbed a flashlight, and came out of his hiding spot to face the Doctor. He whistled to get his attention, and once the killer turned around, shone the flashlight in his face with the intent to stun him.

The Doctor spun around only to receive a blinding glare straight in the eyes. "Nngh!" His grip loosened just enough for the girl to slip free. She hit the floor running and was off, unaware of her fellows` plans. Growling, the Doctor released a wave of maddening electricity to try and force Joker back.

The thief stood his ground, even if he had to hold back a pained yell from the corrupted spark, and rushed up to tackle the Doctor onto the hook. While not the heaviest of men, he managed to push the stunned killer across the remains of the tripping hazard. He went over, his own weight working against him, and fell on the hook. It stabbed through his chest, electricity arcing between himself and the metal hook, as he attempted to get off. He tried once, and the faint outlines of needly legs appeared around him. After the second try they materialized fully and bent in to impale him. The Doctor grabbed onto the legs to hold them at bay, uttering an incoherent stream of rage, but there was nobody to save him. After reeling back the limbs of the Entity sank into his flesh, dragging a odious soul from his body, and into the dark sky beyond the ceiling it went.

Going limp, the leftover body turned to ash, leaving behind the killer`s spirit. Around the room the fog began to dissipate, including the barrier blocking the door out of here. Strangely the room itself seemed to get smaller, collapsing bit by bit until it returned to its ordinary size.

Throughout the whole thing, Dwight was speechless. "That...worked?" he breathed, not daring to hope. The girl joined them, just as baffled. "We can`t be free...right, Min?"

"Never underestimate the will of a Phantom Thief. But if you're still unsure, well, we'll just have to see for ourselves." Joker smiled, pointing to the exit.

The others followed his lead, still at a loss. They pushed through the door without incident, finding themselves inside a normal building. Both almost collapsed, fighting to keep themselves steady. Whatever this world held, they were free from the nightmare, and they were alive.

Glad that they were free, Joker lead them back to the main hall, hoping to explain his sudden disappearance.

Between Linkle’s bombardment, thunderous sniper fire from Michael, miniature earthquakes, the rampaging of two enormous drakes (which now included Bowser), some of her teammates’ conditions, the hits she had taken herself, explosions of ‘color’, and the persistence of their opposition, things were starting to get a little too stressful for Hat Kid. The ‘husks’, the dead people… they just kept coming! Bowser and the warrior hacked and mauled the Thing to death, and yet, they wouldn’t relent. The child was to join the others in whittling down the back line after diving out of the Koopa King’s way, but the rapid, successive pileup of stress over such a short period left her young, relatively delicate psyche addled. With a helping of sensory overload to compliment the situation, she couldn’t focus on anything long enough to decide where to direct her attention. She pressed her palms to her ears, hoping to block out the horrific and chaotic noises around her, pinched her eyelids shut to avert her sight from the maddening color and its lesser heralds, and tried to shake the onsetting insanity from her head until, eventually, she just… stopped thinking about it.

When she opened her eyes, all she could see was the otherworldly color that filled them in random, abstract patterns like lingering hypnagogia. It was kinda pretty, actually. She didn’t see what the big deal was; why anyone would go insane just from looking at it for a prolonged period. It’s just color. Was it considered unnerving simply because it and its emissary were from space, and that frightened people by virtue of being incomprehensibly foreign (i.e. alien)? She’s been to space. This wasn’t the worst, or weirdest thing out there. Besides, it simply isn’t worth worrying about; none of it is. Life is hard enough, stressful enough already. Who needed more hardship; more stress? She didn’t have to prove herself to anyone. Whoops… there she goes thinking again. Probably best she didn’t do that. Too much of that can be dangerous...

Fortunately for her, someone (plural) was around to help. In her hypnotic daze, she hadn’t noticed anything going on around her, that the horde of farmhands had been cleared out or that she had been picked up and safeguarded from the conflict while she sat entranced. Strangely enough, what had finally roused her from her stupor was the decline in stimulus that had become white noise for her during the past minute or so, followed shortly by the Brachydios' roar. No more screaming scarecrows, no whip cracks from the foremen, less gunfire and explosions than before, and the splendorous dawnlight to overtake the Borealic night, the horizon goldening on the other side of the hill where her allies could be seen doing good work on the draconic beast. She poked her head out of the confines of Bowser's cradled top hat to see all of this for herself, and suddenly, she felt… inspired.

The swordsmen and the cowboy had worn down the monster considerably, managing even to sever its tail, and they did it all while facing half of the same horde her and the others contended with. They only just received reinforcement from Peach and Poppi after their own dragon (NOT Bowser) pinned it down. Kid decided that she was feeling good enough to want in on the action herself, and considering the now favorable odds, what better time to tackle their actual objective; the thing they had come for in the first place, in the name of somehow forwarding their journey. Just as she was about to urge the Koopa King on toward the battle, believing that he would be all the more useful there, he started to go… the other way. Perplexed as to his intentions, but not all that curious about them, she decided she would make her own way over… with a little borrowed help from Bowser anyways.

Looking down at the rim of the King's hat she lay in, a devious, half-lidded cat-grin crept onto her face, an idea having formed in her head as she receded back into the confines of the giant headpiece. Having been in it for as long as she had (which wasn't much, but didn't need to be for her), she had ample time to get a good look at what she was working with. Besides, it was a hat; of course she knew how to use it. After another second of silence from her, the hat's mechanical boxing arms sprang forth unexpectedly to loose itself from Bowser's grasp, and its new wearer's tiny feet popped out through the opening to gently meet the top of the koopa's head following a rising flip.

Just as soon as she landed, she lept spiraling into the air toward the battle, with the hat’s arm outstretched to act as a propeller to carry her further. She wasn’t so much wearing it as it was simply encasing her entire form, and either ceased to be the case when she used the diminishing momentum from her spin to hurl it at the Brachydios like a frisbee to clobber the monster in the head with one of the mechanical gloves. With still a little more distance left to cover, the child dove for the hat on its return flight to bounce off and send it reeling back for a second hit. Expecting she could probably get no more hits out of it than that, she elected this time to merely springboard off of the rebounding top hat, still wearing Terry’s Cap.

“PAWAA-” she broadcasted excitedly, rising at an angle with a small, flaming fist raised. Time dilated for a split second, her burning hand above her shining vividly even in the daylight, as she smiled widely and winked at no one in particular. “DANKU!” She came crashing the rest of the way down onto the drake’s head with, of course, a Power Dunk--another borrowed technique that she this time called out in convincingly accented Engrish (despite being an actual English speaker). Though her hands and power were wittle little, the monster was considerably weak, so it was worth seeing if she could make something of it (and if the flair was worth it).

First strange-looking animal people, then fish monsters, and now walking alligators. If Phoenix hadn't barely escaped impalement earlier today, he would've guessed he fell asleep at the local zoo again.

After the, err, kerfuffle at the lake, Phoenix was happy to return to Lambridge, where his savior had been quick to abandon him. He didn't mind, of course. What, was he going to march off into more danger just because he managed to throw a shoe at something? No thanks. Phoenix was more than okay with the mundane.

But the rest of the day wasn't as conflict-free as he hoped.

"Pat, I've been telling you all afternoon, that little girl wasn't trying to murder you. She was just playing with a hoop and a stick."

Phoenix was sitting inside of a bizarrely modern-day diner (or at least more modern than the medieval nature of the town), sipping on a strawberry milkshake as he talked with his new-found 'friend', a very short alligator man who was currently trying to find said little girl in the darkness outside.

How did he end up with the skittish alligator as company? Well... he didn't really know. Phoenix left the guild building and was on his way to his makeshift office when Pat bowled him over, terrified of a simple girl batting around a hoop in the road. Ever since then, Pat followed Phoenix wherever he went, jumping at shadows and boogeymen that only existed in his head, and always relating to the attempt on his life by the stick-wielding child. Apparently, Pat figured that - in his own words - "people in suits hardly ever do a hit because then their suits would be all bloody!", so Phoenix ended up being his confidant and protector against his will.

(At least this place has actual air-conditioning...)

@Lugubrious@ProPro@MULTI_MEDIA_MAN

---

By the time Linkle blinked her eyes opened it seemed like the situation had changed. The most apparent changes were Euden and Courier, who were literally changed, but they were only two of the people piling on to the now downed monster. Even Poppi had gotten back up and flown into the fray. Between the lot of them it looked like the monster was pretty well handled, even if the fighter were all little knocked around themselves.

Well this was as good an opportunity as any, than.

She walked up to the edge of the weird ice wall, something she sort of understood where it had come from but decided she could think about later, and summoned a friend heart. She looked between her two prospective targets. Geralt, Euden, Geralt, Euden... One was huge, an easy target, and had shown up out of nowhere to help. Plus that dragon form was really really cool. On the other hand if she was being honest with herself she was still kind of sore Geralt had shaken off the heart before. Besides, Din was into him. Higher priority. Geralt first.

She summoned up the heart, nocked it like you would an arrow in her simple bow, and fired it right at The Witchers open back. She was about to do the same to the dragon boy but then the Courier stepped back, stabbed himself with something, and then activated his amazing hat. The worm thingy whirled around, releasing a red mist that seemed to float down all around them. As it soaked into her the spiral charm on Linkle's belt began to shine, and all of a sudden sound came back into world. She could hear something other than a constant ringing again, and the gash on her leg that had steadily been leaking her life blood onto the ground closed up by itself. In fact in a few short moments Linkle felt totally fine, not an ache or a pain in her entire body.

The light of the charm faded silently, and unnoticed by her.

Blazermate was pretty happy that Ratchet was alright with her hanging off him. While she was light, with medabots naturally being fairly light and her being even lighter than normal due to being able to fly, she wasn't sure if she was lighter or light enough for him to carry both herself and Clank. but his reassurances and explanation worked for her, and she nodded.

Hopping onto Ratchet's shoulder, much like his robot friend Clank did, Blazermate was off with the Lombrax. As they made their way around, looking for some of those missing pages. As the duo (trio?) made their way out of the hall, Fox bumped into them, apparently running from something and having news. Fox told them that his exploring party was behind him, and he seemed like in a hurry as he pushed past the two and made his way to the main hall.

"Hey, wanna check on who went out with Fox or hear what he has to say? I'm fine with either, although I think that looking for Fox's party might be best. He was injured, maybe the killer was there?" Blazermate said, tapping Ratchet on the shoulder with her healing arm. Now instead of hanging off Ratchet, she held onto his shoulder with her demon hand, with her legs around his waist so she could at lesat use her medi beam if needed. She would do whatever Ratchet wanted to do, as while fox was injured, he wasn't too bad off, and he was going to the rest of the group.

Having used the Uber Heart and knowing what it did, Blazermate felt like she had a grasp of how to properly use it. Seeing as they'd soon get into a fight, she started to heal Ratchet to build charge. This didn't seem to build ubercharge though, instead she felt a power resonate within her medal, something she hadn't felt in a while. The feel of the Medaforce and its energy had returned to her, as if her medal was waking up after her encounter with that crazy murder hobo with a camera. The Uberheart also reacted to her awakening of the Medaforce, and Blazermate felt like if she channeled the Medaforce through this uberheart, it could make people glow like before.

"OOh, now I know what Jak meant about getting his magic back. Feels like I can finally use the Medaforce again. This cute bot isn't just a healer now!" Blazermate said to Ratchet, pausing her healing for a moment to do a small victory arm pump before continuing.

---

"I'll do it," Donnie said, immediately and without hesitation. "I use magic on a daily basis. Calming evil spirits isn't my wheelhouse, but I know enough to get this prepared." He looked at the pitiful offering, the Cup Noodles. "And now that I've thought about it, those noodles aren't even cooked, and we only have one shot at appeasing Pichai. The last thing we need is for this to backfire, and we need to act quickly before the killer attacks again. So I know I'm going to regret this later, but...."

He magicked the Luggage into existence again and opened it up, rummaging around in its cavernous interior until he found what he wanted: A wrapped ration. He opened it up, revealing a mouthwatering meal, the kind of thing he could only have cooked in his prime, and with ingredients that could only be found in his home universe.

"Azshara Salad. Made from five different types of exotic plants added onto a Surf and Turf recipe. The magic in its ingredients it'll even make you a tiny bit quicker for about five minutes, and the whole thing is enchanted so it'll never go bad. I want to make sure he never bothers us again until we are out of here. That's why I'm using this."

Then he took the requisite materials from the satchel and the Preta pages from Fox. "Now, let me just practice this once or twice and make sure I've got everything set up...."

A couple of practice runs later, it was looking perfect. He didn't light the candles or the incense, of course. Wrapping up the Azshara Salad, he prepared to leave, closing and dismissing the Luggage as he did so.

"Okay, let's do this," he said, picking up the whole ensemble, placing it in the satchel. "I'm heading to the library. And I'm going to need others to come with me in case it doesn't work and we need to put him down." With that, he walked away, ritual kit slung over his shoulder.

With the end of the bizarre battle in sight, others soon joined Peach and Poppi in finishing the Brachydios off. Euden, in his draconic form, held down the monster long enough for the Courier, Geralt, and even a plucky Hat Kid to do their work. Then, with his shapeshifting time up, Euden got out of the way and left the Brachydios to his friends' mercy. After growing to enormous size thanks to one of Kamek's hexes, 6 bashed its head again and again with a giant pickaxe, with such ferocity that he eventually snapped the shaft of his weapon into pieces. Meanwhile, Geralt burned away the meager scales that feebly sought to protect the beast's belly before carving it up, making a brutal mess of the Brachydios' soft parts. Finally, the child -having sufficiently recovering from her stress- grabbed Bowser's hat as she prepared to deliver a coup de grace. If any possibility of the monster still being alive remained, it was squashed for good as Hat Kid bashed it with a couple punches from her protector's well-armed top hat, sprang off it on the return, and then donned her Fatal Fury hat to end with an exuberant bang.

The blow sank into the monster's hide as though it were butter, hastening its reduction to ash. In a matter of moments the once-mighty Brachydios went from a sad carcass to dust on the wind, with only a scant few seconds available for any prospective carvers to do their work. In the middle of the ensuing pile, however, it left its spirit, containing within an image of the monster still blazing with rage and pride.

Tora watched the whole thing unfold, feeling a good bit better after receiving a strong potion from the Ace Cadet. While he didn't say much, the look of relief and gratitude on his face spoke loud enough. He stared at Linkle freeing Geralt, and shortly after, the Courier using his ridiculous new hat to spread the effects of his medication across the whole group. Though confused as to how exactly that worked, Tora did not care to look that gift horse in the mouth. When Poppi wearily trudged back over to him the Nopon could clap his wing on her back in adulation. “Hooray! Horrible fight is finally over!”

Above the battlefield, the splendorous sky had already begun to fragment, that marvelous golden void returning to the distant epochs and planes from which it had been dreamt. Upon the fatigued, wounded heroes now shone a silver moon and twinkling stars, comforting in their stillness and normality. They illuminated a blighted farmstead overlooking a great step, and miles away flickered the lights of the Hamlet and Lumbridge. Around the battlefield, the heroes pieced themselves together, trying to shake off the stress that had settled over them like coats of candlewax. No fatalities, the Nopon realized, manifesting a joyful smile. Tora broke out into a spinning, bouncing dance around his gathered friends, cheering for a job well done. Quite unable to restrain herself, Poppi joined in, doing a sort of jig with her hands on her hips. They danced without any care for an onlooker's judgment, since after getting a peek at true madness anyone present would be hard-pressed to see such a thing as anything more than blowing off steam, or wholehearted celebration. The battle, after all, was won.



A short time later, Tora rolled onto his back, breathing heavily but still grinning. He lay there in the dust of trampled fossils and stared up at the stars, so familiar and welcome. Now that the adrenaline had run dry, every movement took a concerted effort. He felt ready to fall asleep there and then. Poppi saw him fighting to keep his eyelids open and smiled. “We should get back to town. Poppi bet everyone need long rest after that.”

Peach nodded, only just realizing how tired she was herself. As horrible as the hilltop battle had been, she couldn't picture it keeping her awake. Whether or not she'd have good dreams, of course, was another matter. She took a step and almost fell over, holding her arms outstretched to keep her balance. “Wooh...ugh. I don't know if I should drive.”

Crossing her arms, Poppi peered down the hill. At its foot sat Brother Grimm, just where the group left it. “Poppi could do it. Watched Peach on way here, and since it just wilderness, should be pretty easy.”

Nodding sleepily, Peach told her, “Thank you,” before looking around at everyone else. She glanced at the koopas' newly-recovered clown car, then at Michael leaning on Franklin's shoulder, then the various spirits scattered around, then Euden, who'd become human again and recovered what was left of his shoes. “Let's...make sure everyone's okay to travel, then get going. The sooner we're back in Lumbridge...the better.”

---

The trip back passed by like the start of a dream. Those able to sleep could nod off at any time, especially after the somewhat rugged terrain of the Ancestral Steppe gave way to flat plains. With minimal difficulties Poppi got the monster truck cruising, ferrying the heroes back to a well-deserved rest.



A few seconds turned into a minute, which became two, lapsing into four. For whatever reason the bird guy kept looking at Phoenix, staring with a wide-open eye from his seat in the Clik Clak Diner where the lawyer and his newest self-determined client had settled down for the time being. He didn't get any food, and the waitress didn't come over the ask, no doubt familiar with the habits of this particular customer. Phoenix was a little familiar as well, but the two never really met. Jeremy Warton, better known by his preferred pseudonym 'Germ Warfare' to anyone who cared to interact with him, stood out as a loner and a bit of an oddball. He couldn't even be considered a Lumbridge resident, since the feathery fellow seemed to prefer to forego living in the town in favor of a tree in some nearby woods instead. Like so many of the folks in the World of Light he came across with no friends or family from his home, and when asked, he'd only ever say he was 'from somewhere.' Nothing particularly unusual or interesting stood out about him, but he remained a mystery, which meant Phoenix couldn't imagine why Germ chose to stare at him this particular night.

Some time after Pat satiated his paranoia and settled down for a milkshake, a brusque squawk reached him from the booth where he knew Germ lurked.

“'Ey.”

When he looked he found Germ leaning over the seat back, looking at him again.

“Saw ya talkin' to Houndmaster yesterday. Lawyer, lawman, makes sense. Gotta suck to have to explain what you do to people.” Like this diner, and Phoenix Wright himself, Germ stood out as a rare spot of modernity in the decidedly old-fashioned town of Lumbridge. Everything from the rafters of the tallest inn to the muddy bottom of the river Lum that split the town screamed 'medieval', but here he was. Maybe Germ, at least, was used to being an outsider. “Tell me about another case you solved,” Germ said.



“Wait a moment!”

Barely had Death gotten a few steps closer to the police station than a cautionary voice sounded out from behind him, urging him to stop. When he turned he saw a young man in classy albeit edgy garb, very slender but still capable-looking. A gas mask covered his face, and from atop it stared a red eye, its opposite beneath the man's hair. “There's some sort of barrier around the place,” he explained. “Once you notice it, you're already stuck inside.” He scanned the windows, looking for activity. “A lot of people are trapped in there.” he murmured. “And now I know there's a killer on the loose in there with them. And unlike me, they'll stay dead.”

For a moment an ugly, angry look possessed him, but he suppressed it a moment later. Clearing his throat, he addressed Death again. “Forgive me, you're hurt. Here, this will help.” He cast some sort of blood magic, sending a red mote into Death that instantly healed a portion of his wounds. “Now then. I will go back inside, of course, but unless you want to be trapped until our little problem is resolved, you should steer clear.” He lingered with the Horseman another moment, in case Death harbored any questions or helpful hints for him.



Not noticing Joker's detour to the third floor, Nero headed down to the assembly in the main hall. There he deposited his newfound loot and lent an ear to what everyone had to say. He'd hoped for good news, but instead Blazermate had something to share that made the whole situation a lot more complicated: there was a killer running rampant. A few groups departed to different parts of the station in order to gather the civilians. Nero watched them go with a wincing sort of expression, hoping that none would run into this knife-wielding psycopath. Since everyone knew what the guy looked like thanks to the medarot's testimony and the killer let her go specifically to tell the others, Nero doubted that he would still be trying to blend in with civilians, but anything could happen.

When Fox appeared, bearing nothing less than exactly what everyone needed, the devil hunter couldn't help but chuckle. “Well, alright then.” Scratch one problem. All that needed to be done was the offering itself. Fortunately, Donovan Lee stepped up to the place. The survivors could not have asked for a better proposition than a ritual-experienced monk with pre-prepared, nonperishable chow. Summoning that luggage was a handy trink, now that Nero took note of it. What Nico wouldn't give to get one of those.

He stood around while Donnie rehearsed the act of placing food, placing incense, and lighting incense. Nero didn't know who could mess up such a simple process, but at least it didn't take too long. During that period, a group returned from the western wing. Ratchet and Blazermate reappeared alongside V, Lucatiel, and Leon, all three of them restored by the medarot's healing talents. By the time Donnie finished practicing a few volunteers were already ready to accompany him, Nero among them. Ms. Fortune wanted to come along too, looking eager to get back at the ghost that spooked her before. “Okay, let's go. No time to waste.”

Captain Howard nodded. He, Jill, and Ghalt would be staying behind to make sure that all the civilians gathered together in one piece, and that no away teams failed to return. “Good luck up there, kids,” he told them, his face determined. It was past time everyone got to safety.

A handful of seconds after Nero's group left, Joker appeared from a side door with a couple of unfamiliar civilians. He looked worse for wear, both hurt and rattled, and those with him looked haunted. "What happened?" Howard asked, suddenly feeling responsible for the kid getting lost.

---

The dispersion party moved quickly and in single file, every pair of eyes flitting between corners and shadows in a constant, vigilant search for unknown assailants. Fortune's baby blues on particular maintained a high alert, peering into darkness inscrutable for her allies, but even she turned up nothing. As such the crew arrived in the Library in only a couple minutes, wherein it proceeded to the second floor and finally to the incongruous door the feral, the bear, and the bird explored earlier. Since Donnie carried the supplies Nero took point, pushing into the unknown adjunct with a steely expression.

Nothing but dilapidated wood and quaint talismans. His breathing steady, Nero took a left and led the way into a longer room, littered with the hefty splinters of a brutalized table. In its left wall lay she shutterless window Fortune remembered, an unceremonious cut-out square that looked out into a stygian blackness. Now it was the others' turn to comprehend the existence of impossible space, and shudder. This time, however, no giant ghoul loitered outside to give a maleficent look or to try and smash a hero flat, so everyone could march across the room and to the stairs on the other side. Nero ducked around a hanging strand with large, disk-shaped beads, placing his mechanical hand on the banister as he turned at the halfway point. The room directly above the splinter hall appeared to be some sort of workshop, with a few large desks and plenty of both cloth and rubber scraps, but no ghosts.

Still in single file the crew pressed on through a handful of other rooms. In one of them, the largest, the only other door was locked, and when Nero suggested the group retrace it steps, the door them came through turned up locked as well. After that, however, the first could be opened, and everyone headed through.

As Nero neared the fifth door he came to a sudden stop, motioning for quiet. A heavy, raspy breathing could be heard, like an asthmatic fighting for air. The devil hunter nodded and made ready, trusting the others to do the same. When the fifth door slid open, it revealed a much larger room. Cabinets and cupboards lined the walls, but only rectangular tables stood out in the copious floor space. Most notable, the room didn't have a roof, exposing the pitch-black above, and the enormous figure that hung within. The Preta loomed over the southern wall, above a small table with nothing on it except candles in the four corners. Movement drew the ghost's attention, causing it to reach out one massive, bony hand as soon as intruders stepped inside.

Nero's body went on autopilot. In one fluid motion he drew the Red Queen and slashed at the incoming hand, only for the blade to pass straight through as if nothing were there. Before he could register what happened the giant hand closed around him and began to pull him close, but Nero activated his Gerbera arm to blast out of the deadly grip and toward the back of the room. Fortune slid under a table, hiding herself from the Preta's gaze. “Under cover!” she hissed, and grudgingly Nero obliged.

The Preta watched the room, its roving eye looking over all quadrants. If it saw someone it would reach down to grab them, too fast for something its size, but otherwise it simply searched, picking up a table at random every dozen seconds or so. From the moment it stole the first one, Nero knew that his team was on a timer; they needed to avoid getting caught while setting up the offering, but their hiding spots wouldn't last forever.

”Wait what!” Bowser exclaimed as his hat suddenly started moving on its own. As Jr and Mimikyu looked down with curiously at the wiggling hat the hat wearing kid suddenly popped out of it to take a look around. Jr waved weakly at her but the girl was far more interested in the state of the battle and luminous sky hanging above them.

”Oh right.” Bowser said upon seeing the girl. He’d assumed she’d be out of it for the rest of the night.

”Hey, you. You're finally awake. You were… hay wait where are you going?” Bowser was saying before the hat kid vanished back into the hat and began rummaging around in there. ”GAH! Watch what your doing in there! You could activate the...” he warned before Hat Kid got a hang of the controls and promptly deployed the boxing glove arms. The child bashed her way out of his grip before running off back towards the fighting.

”HAY COME BACK!” Bowser yelled after her with concern, but the girl just kept on going and nobody could stop her.

”Least she’s useful. Unlike me.” jr muttered morosely as the Hat Kid launched herself into the fray with an impressive set of Mario-esque flips and hat tosses/bounces before delivering a brilliantly bright flaming down smash to the beast’s head. With that final blow, the last of a furious assault that had been made by the rest of the gang while Bower retreated, the Brachydios was done for. It’s form dissipated into rapidly vanishing ash, leaving behind nothing but its sprite.

”Huh. Well. Glad that's over.” Bowser said before continuing after Jr’s car

”Yeah right. Any moment now something even more horrible is going to pop out and try and eat us.” Jr predicted. Fortunately for everyone involved, he was completely wrong.

Instead everyone finally had time to get their affairs in order, their heads back on straight or, in the case of Poppi and Tora, do a victory dance.

Bowser and Jr reclaimed the princes’ clown car by using Mimikyu as a long armed grappling hook. Meanwhile Kamek got his remaining Dry Bones to gather up all of the sprites (that went immediately claimed by others) and stuffed them into Bowser’s ever expanding collection of bottles so they could deal with dividing them once they were less exhausted.

The Koopa Troop readily agreed with the princess's suggestion that they head back(Bowser didn't even bother to try and claim the idea as his own). They piled into the Brother Grimm with the others as soon as they could, making the return trip just a touch more cramped than the outward one due to jr, Kamek and Jr’s car being added to the passenger list. The still hopelessness afflicted Jr was encouraged to get some sleep by his guardians and soon fell asleep, curled up by his father's side with the Mad Mantle acting as a blanket and Mimikyu enthusiastically taking the role of a stuffed animal.

---

Donnie’s eyes went wide as he caught a glimpse of Pichai’s grotesque form for the first time. It was huge, imposing, and apparently, it was invincible to mundane weapons judging by what happened to Nero when he tried to slice at it. He needed to move quickly. Wondering at the architectural impossibility of this place could come later. He figured it was a magical construct anyway.

He took Ms. Fortune’s advice, ducking behind a dusty old table, fear forming a pit in his stomach as the preta’s single red eye shone its baleful light across the room.

Donnie was a big man compared to some of the others here. Azerothian humans had taken a completely different evolutionary path than humans of most other worlds represented in the World of Light. He hadn’t evolved from apes. He was technically an Old-God-corrupted, Titan-built machine. To be more specific, he was a distant descendant of the offspring of Titan-forged Vrykul--a species of eight-foot-tall Viking-like warriors--afflicted with the Curse of Flesh, cast out from their families due to their deformed and weak physiology.

This meant that Donnie, like most male Azerothian humans, was actually rather jacked, and his armor made it even harder to fit a low profile. He wasn’t a rogue either. He had cat-like agility and reflexes, sure, but stealth was not his forte in the slightest.

As a result, to say that Donnie was having a hard time was an understatement. As Pichai’s red gaze passed by the couch, he spotted a table to his right, temporarily out of Pichai’s cone of vision.

He booked it, the metal and leather armor making slight squeaking and clanking noises as he did so. He was sure he only had a few seconds at most before Pichai tried to grab him as he did to Nero, so he had to work quickly. He grabbed the entire pre-made ritual kit from his satchel and began to set up the food offering like a man possessed.

He worked quickly, but ambitiously. A smarter plan of action might have been to set down one element at a time before retreating into hiding. Evidently caring little that the project was meant to satiate it, the Preta released an almost metallic screeching noise and reached down with its giant fingers to seize the monk.

Donnie reacted on autopilot. The monk rolled out of the way, narrowly dodging Pichai’s grasping hand. Unfortunately, Pichai’s pre-emptive attack caused Donnie to knock against the table and spill some of the ingredients for the ritual, including about a third of the food.

Thinking fast, he began to pick them up and tried a more desperate gambit. This thing was clearly a monster and Pichai was an asshole, but this might work?

“OI, PICHAI!” he yelled, “DO YOU ALWAYS ATTACK PEOPLE WHO ARE TRYING TO SET UP FOOD OFFERINGS FOR YOU?! GIVE ME FIVE SECONDS AND YOU’LL BE CHOWING DOWN ON THE BEST FOOD I COULD MAKE!”

The Preta attacked again while Donnie was still speaking, this time with a massive slam meant to crush him where he stood. Having drawn the specter’s attention and being unable to ease back into hiding, he could no longer finish the ceremony. A portion of salad lay on the floor, and the incense sticks had been flung farther.

Nope, that didn’t work. In fact, it had made the situation even worse for Donnie. Still, there were two-thirds of the salad left, and since Donnie had drawn its attention, he couldn’t be the one to finish it, not without going back into hiding.

So, why not be a distraction?

“Fine then, if you won’t listen to reason, catch me if you can, fiend!”

With that, Donnie ran for it. He had a lot of stamina, a lot of agility, and could run pretty damn fast. Whenever Pichai tried to grab or strike him, a quick roll, flip, cartwheel, or dodge would be all it took to avoid those hands. And he could keep this up for a while.

While it was clear that Donnie’s diplomacy gambit--which itself hadn’t been a bad strategy, given that Pichai was once human--had failed massively, the others would probably tell he was trying to make the best of it, and the offering was free for anyone to pick up where he left off.

---

Death stopped and turned quickly to face the owner of the voice that had just called out to him. A rather young human dressed in a strange outfit stood across from the Horseman. The two things about him that stood out the most were the unusual mask and the man’s red eye. Death listened as the stranger explained that the building he was about to enter had a barrier that prevented escape once inside. There were apparently people already stuck inside there which Death knew that this was most likely to be the group he had been searching for.

The Reaper was still suspicious of this stranger, especially when he noticed the masked man flashed an angry look for just a moment. However, he apologised and casted some form of magic towards Death which healed some of the Horseman’s wounds. It seemed the stranger intended to go inside and Death, not having any questions for the moment, joined him.

Once the two entered the RCPD through the main entrance, Death noticed what the man was talking about previously involving the strange magic that surrounded the place. Trying to exit the building through the way he just came but not getting any luck in actually leaving, Death sighed to himself as he turned back to join the stranger. The Horseman could see that there was quite a few people situated in the Main Hall and he wondered if this was all or if there was any more elsewhere. ”Who, out of all of you, is in charge here? I have been informed that you’ve got a killer loose in this building.” The Horseman would be inclined to offer up his help to these people should they need it. And it did seem like they did, given that they were all trapped and had an active threat in the place with them.

And just like that the, quest was complete! Well, maybe "just like that" was a bit of an exaggeration - it hadn't been easy for a lot of them, but the whole crew was alive and (mostly) well. The pain from the Ace Cadet's own wounds dissipated with the effects of the Courier's wide reaching healing. The hunter made quick work of the already injured plowhorse, though as if in a flash by the time he turned back to observe how the team was faring against the downed Brachydios, the battle was over.

A quick glance in the direction of Michael and Franklin to make sure they were okay now that all the threats were gone, and the Cadet began his jog back over to the other side of the hill.

"Nice job guys!" he cheered, "a few more of those and we'll have a nice set of ar--wait wait it's body! Aw man, the carves!"

The young man was dismayed as he watched the Brute Wyvern's corpse turn to nothing but ash, nothing left behind but it's spirit. He wasn't quick enough to reach it in time, but once reaching the glowing, ghostly image of the Brachydios he was more intrigued about the spirit itself. Earlier in the Guild Hall he'd seen the members of the group squash the things and get items - and as tempted as he was to do that now, Cadet was more than used to the Hunter's Guild taking the biggest portion of hunts and handing out rewards to the hunters later. Instead, he pushed it closer to the nearest Dry Bones, and joined in on turtle skeletons' cleaning up the area. Physically, he was fit as a fiddle - but for some reason he was a little tired, when normally he'd be looking to accept a new quest already. Maybe dealing with all the totally new sights, sounds, and in general craziness of the night? Yeah, probably. Helping the Dry Bones was a good way to wind down after the battle's high tension, plus getting a good look at the still mysterious spirits was helping him get over missing his chance to get any souvenirs from the monster's hide.

With the battlefield picked clean, Cadet made his way back to the group's ride and plopped himself into the back with a goofy grin on his face. "Everybody's all right, right? I think that went pretty good."

Whether it was the snug fit making for warm and kind of comfortable conditions, or the smooth cruise back into town or both, Cadet found himself dozing a little. Some of the other occupants of the vehicle were already snoring, so he figured it as alright to join in. His body didn't ache more than usual after a big hunt, but his mind was still trying to wrap itself around a lot of new concepts. Most of them he easily accepted, but it was still like flexing muscle that some would argue the red head didn't use often enough. Surrounded by the rest of the squad, Ace Cadet tucked his arms around his torso and let his consciousness drift off for the remainder of the ride.

In quick succession the four teams departed. Nero, Donnie, and Ms. Fortune went to hunt down and banish the Preta, while Jak and Daxter joined Eddie and Tess going east to round up civilians. Ghalt opted to throw wide the door to the west office and call it denizens in. Kai and a roughed-up but still-determined Leon led the way up the stairs toward the hall prefacing the fortified safe room where the youngest and most vulnerable of the survivors had been stashed. Ukyo and the Black Mage remained with Ghalt, Jill, and the Captain to keep an eye on everyone in the main hall, along with the newly-returned Joker. If the killer was hiding among civilians, no shortage of precaution could be taken. The rumble of thunder rolled down from the sky, shortly followed by the patter of raindrops on the roof.

With all thoughts on spirits and psychopaths, nobody was prepared when the front door flew open to admit nothing less than a terrifying reaper. V's eyes snapped to the intruder, and Griffon perked up. Bearing gaunt greenish skin over lean muscle and molten orange eyes glowing in a mask of bone, the ghoulish invader carried twin scythes by his side and a cold, inhuman bearing. Instantly the survivors trained a dozen weapons on him, even as the stranger stood still to demand their leader. X-baton in hand and wearing a grim expression, Howard stepped forward. “I'm the one in charge, but if you thin..!”

A collective gasp went up as someone stepped out from behind Death. From tooth to toe, there was no mistaking it. “Louis?” Howard murmured. “But...Blazermate said you died.”

Louis closed the door behind him and shook his head. “Not really. You see, I am a Revenent. A corpse stimulated into reanimation by a BOR parasite in my heart.” His clinical tone cut through the others' amazement, encouraging them to regard this knowledge as nothing special. Before long, a couple were nodding as if what he said made total sense. They'd seen weirder, after all. “When about to die, I disperse and regenerate at the mistle I rested at last. It so happened to be in the basement laundromat across the street.”

V closed his eyes, the hint of a wry smile on his face. “'A dead body revenges not injuries,' hm?”

“Well, thank God you're okay,” Howard exulted. “That means as far as we know, this killer has no real casualties. And...it's good to have you back, son.” In a more peaceful situation the Police Captain might have walked forward a couple yards to clap Louis on the shoulder, but instead he took another look at Death. Throughout the commotion the Horseman hadn't done anything aggressive, or even suspect. “Friend of yours?” he asked, curious, before offering an explanation. “There is, somewhere. Teleports, freezes things with his camera, has a knife.” His eyes fell on the teleporter constructed by Blazermate. An inert metal device, promising safety somewhere far from here, if only it worked. “But we're getting out of here soon. Right now, some folks're on their way upstairs to deal with the ghost that's trapping us here. In fact, they could probably use another person or two.” Joker, the only one present who could be spared aside from the new arrivals, received a couple looks. “But if you want to find the killer, be my guest. There's this furry yellow guy, Ratchet, who went with his medic to find him. You could catch 'em if you hurry.”

---

A minute passed in relative quiet. Rain continued to fall, drumming steadily. Survivors and present fighters conversed in low tones, with some distribution of supplies going on. To prepare for evacuation the last of the stockpile in the east office had been brought to the main hall. At first nobody noticed something different, but gradually the sounds of shuffling, thumping, and rattling became too loud to miss. The crowd fell silent, straining to hear, and when familiarity rang within that noise a jolt of cold terror lanced throughout the room. Maybe it was the dead quiet, but the rain seemed to fall harder. Outside, a flash of lightning. Taking a deep breath, V moved toward the main door and peered through the keyhole.

Outside the wind whistled through the wrought-iron fence, but he could see only the bulbous, haunting dark. Its nebulous contours, touched with a sort of bluish distortion -from the moon, maybe- contorted into every ghoulish visages imaginable, playing devious tricks on the eye. “Whew,” breathed Griffon, looking out through a crack between two of the boards on the door's window. “Nothin' but the heebie jeebies, huh V?” Then V blinked twice, refocused, squinted, and found that he didn't need to imagine.

There were hundreds of them. Maybe thousands. Zombies, demons, and things still worse. V's heart beat wildly, and his breath came ragged through clenched teeth, but after a moment he saw they weren't moving.

“They'll keep for a short time,” came a low, exotic voice from the other side of the door, so faint that V wondered if he invented it. “See that you use it well.”

The advice shocked V into activity, and he staggered backward from the door, fighting to keep himself upright with his cane. “Whoa, whoa, whoa!” shouted his familiar. “Easy there, champ! What, you see something?”

The poet rounded on the assembled survivors. Assuming the voice -if it existed- belonged to an ally, he concentrated on the bigger picture. “Stay. QUIET,” he told them, looking around while the command lingered to make sure there would be no panic. “A horde. A gigantic one. It's holding still for now, but not for long.” Tapping his cane, he summoned Shadow to join him. The survivors, having already more or less known, erupted into action, some preparing and some panicking, and some just trying to keep the whole situation under control. This wasn't the first time the station had been attacked, but without some sort of miracle, it would surely be the last.

@Lugubrious

---

Linkle broke out into a fit of excited giggles as the monster dissolved into ash before her eyes. It grew into a high and hearty laugh as she thrust both fists into the air, the golden light seeming to vanish in response and restored the normal night sky. Seeing Tora and Poppi's celebratory jig inspired her. She kicked the ground and sent herself spinning on the tips of her toes like a prima ballerina, only stopping after enough revolutions to get good and dizzy. She caught herself woozily on the ice wall, leaning down on it with one hand to keep herself from tumbling over until her vision stopped moving. She pointed at the spirit of the defeated Brachy. "Look's like our job's done, huh?" She said, then waved at the spirit. "Well, toodles Mr. Lizard Monster."

She pushed herself off the ice wall and started to walk away, but stopped when she noticed something. More ice had grown up from where she'd pulled her hand way, reaching out toward her.

Oh, right!

She extended her hands toward the wall again, hovering her hands over it and trying to do... something. How did you do magic? She thought about how she triggered her big attacks, abut taking the power you built up during battle and then pushing that out. She breathed in deeply, tried to build up power in herself and send it out toward the wall. To her amazement more ice began to build up, stretching up to try and meet hr hand. She wiggled her fingers, sweeping both hands over the crest of the wall and her grin grew along with it. She clapped both hands to her chest. "This is what you do?" squealed, looking around at what was now the start of a modest ice hut. "You are so cool! I've got to ask Ryu your name." Catching her reflection in the ice, though, she frowned slightly and pulled up a strand of her new luminously blue hair. The stuff managed to catch the moonlight and almost sparkled like rupees as she turned it over. "I hope this isn't permanent." She muttered, then suddenly dropped it and held her hands up defensively to her own reflection and whoever else might be looking through her eyes. "Oh, no offence or anything! I just like my hair. Yours is really pretty too."

If the reflection had any complaints it didn't voice them. Linkle nodded to it, turned, and walked around he wall to see how everyone else was decompressing. While the Staloopas busied themselves with gathering up all the spirits of the slain monsters most the crew seemed to be headed back to the monster kart. She decided to follow along with them, sprinting up as though she hadn't just spent all day fighting things and hoping into the back of the kart, extending a hand over the side to help anyone that wanted up into the bed. She was particularly insistent about it when Euden came along, as though telling him not to bother with something as silly as stowing away again.

"I think that went better than good. I think we did great!" Linkle said in an excited whisper in response to the Ace Cadet, careful to not wake the dozing Jr. She leaned forward eagerly. "Guys, we did it. Between the lot of us we did all the quests in one day." She extended a hand for a high five for anyone willing to take her up on it.

---

As the party rode back through the plains some of the others chose to dozed off, but not her. She was still gripped by the sort of jittery energy that could keep someone going all night. She took the time as they drew closer to the light of town to play around with her ice, cupping her hands and conjuring crude cold shapes that she let tumble over the side into the fields. Cubes, pyramids, stars, balls, basically building blocks you play with as a little kid.

It was still bothering her, though, that she couldn't figure out how to turn back. Dropping a piece of ice that had shaped into a small arch she turned to look at Euden. She supposed she could ask this of Poppi too, seeing as she'd shown off how she could transform, but she was driving right now. "Pssst." She went, trying to get his attention. "Hey Euden. When you want to stop being a dragon, what do you do? Do you just think really hard that you want to be human you again?"

The Courier remained standing, breathing heavily, panting large deep breaths as the blood trickled down his face. At his current size the normally small droplets splashed into small puddles on the ground. The brachydios lay before them all, dead and melting away, just as all life seemed to do in this perverted world of Galeem’s creation. He was thankful, as even though the stimpack healed him it wasn’t a 100% heal. He wasn’t looking forward to tusseling more with that monster, but he stayed vigilant, stayed in battle mode. He had no useful weapon on hand, just the broken handle of his pickaxe, but his brain hadn’t made the switch yet so he was ready to shove the sharp, jagged end of the stick into anything that approached him that he didn’t like.

Of course, no such thing happened as he finally allowed himself to calm down. Kamek’s spell wore off, reducing the Courier (and his broken weapon) to normal size. Everyone went about gathering up spirits and readying themselves for the journey back to Lumbridge. The Courier flitted his eyes around, taking it all in but not participating. So that was it, then? It wasn’t the boss of the area. The creature didn’t have the same effect as the larger, more evil Bowser when it died, so it couldn’t be one of the guardians. Dammit all! So much effort, so much ammo used, and for what? Nothing of note. And worst of all, he went and did it for free.

”I ain’t aimin’ ta take that beasty’s spirit. Too much explosion, not at all t’my likin,’” he drawled to nobody in particular, making his intentions known. Damn, and it would’ve been a great spirit to have, too. A great gun, or maybe armored scales, or hell even as a striker it’d be beneficial. But no, the Courier had his morals, as few and far between as they were. If he didn’t stick to them, what did he have in the end? He sighed, having to resign this whole situation as a personal bust. ”I fuckin’ hate workin’ fer free,” he mumbled, stepping over toward Drumstick.

Ivories returned to him, and to his pokeball, and the Courier mounted his chocobo. ”Ready for a run back, girl?” Drumstick squawked happily, relieved to finally be out of danger. ”Yeah, me too.”

He paused a moment to look around them, up into the sky. The golden light had faded, something which he took note of in his own unique way. ”And now the sky stopped raining popcorn too. Damn, this whole thing really was a massive bust. I hope the guild reward fer that varmint is worth it.”



The Courier spurred his mount into a full run, keeping pace with the large monster truck.

---

Once the whole group arrived back in Lumbridge, the Courier called out to everyone without getting off Drumstick. Those who were still awake anyway, though he was certainly loud enough to wake all but the most heavy of sleepers. ”I don’t aim to be restin’ tonight. Got too much to do. After we regroup an’ get our reward, I plan on settin’ out back to that rest stop we passed by to get here. Going to use their shop and parts to built me a new robot friend. Any hombres willin’ to come with me can, lord knows I could use the help. I got enough black coffee to keep two more people fully energized.”

---

---

Ratchet acknowledged Fox as they passed by (nearly crashing together, really) and briefly returned to the main hall where it was discussed how to appease their ghostly attacker. Donnie went ahead and took it upon himself to conduct the ritual, even using his own food stores rather than the plain dry cup of noodles they had lucked into. Ratchet felt the situation was in good hands and that his talents would be best suited elsewhere. After all, there was still that serial killer to look out for, and he was the one with the best chances of taking that jerk down.

”Since Fox’s group didn’t get into the kind of trouble we were expecting, I’m heading back out. I’m thinking this kind of guy is more likely to strike if I’m separated from everyone else, but Blazer, you can tag along again.” With that, Ratchet took off, this time running toward… Anything. He wasn’t even paying attention, just exploring the police station at random. Wherever luck took him was where it took him, but he made sure to avoid where the gatherings and crowds were. This serial killer had outed himself, and they worked best by targeting people who strayed from larger groups, so sticking to the empty, quiet rooms was how Ratchet would lure this “artist” out.

---

Jak was running alongside Eddie and Tess, heading east to gather more civilians, when something caught Daxter’s eye. The ottsel’s head froze in place as they ran by a window, his neck stretching out as his body kept moving, only to slingshot back as though his frozen head were some sort of immovable anchor in space.

”Jak, buddy ol’ pal of mine?” he said, rather quietly and calmly. ”WE GOT PROBLEMS!” The thin veneer of a calm mind quickly exploded into the mess of anxiety and fear Daxter had been choking back.

Jak doubled back to where his friend was and looked where Daxter had looked: out the window. A massive gathering of monsters had taken place: zombies, demons, creatures they hadn’t seen or yet encountered, all monstrocities and worse yet were the sheer number of them! Hundreds, maybe thousands, and the army was growing still larger. Jak’s eyes got big.

”Yeah. That’s a problem. Come on.” Jak grabbed his ottsel friend by the neck and yanked Daxter along, where they caught up with the other two quickly.

”We gotta fix this mondo problem extra fast, guys! I don’t want to be zombie chow! They don’t even season their foo-oo-ood!” Daxter cried little sobs as he elongated the word. Luckily, unknown to them, the ritual to satiated the ghost keeping them all trapped was already under way! Of course things weren’t going on track, but hey, when did things ever progress smoothly in the life of a couple intrepid heroes?

”Move it, civilians!” Jak barked, gesturing with his hands authoritatively.