---

Wearing shorts, Mirage was feeling the cold floor of the vent against his legs, as well as his palms, as he crawled. One could easily see from observation that the sections of skin going against the vent were slowly turning red, but despite the stinging sort of pain and itch from his scars, the pain in his stomach was still worse. Out of three possible outcomes, Mirage outstandingly managed to get the wrong one twice, before halting as he realized a particular scent was gifting itself to his nostrils. "Cheese," Mirage mulled, maybe he would've drooled if his mouth wasn't so dry. With a burst of confidence, he scuttled his way through the vent to find the source, and with it, a hatch that they could actually get through.

"Bingo," The legend vocalized his success, tilting his head to look back at the others and offer a quick nod before he poked his head out to look at the situation. He eyed the mousetraps, a bundle of them being placed around their exit. Quickly, he raised a hand to halt his fellow rescuers. "They were ready for something to come through here. Gimmie a sec." Now, Mirage might not have been an action spy, or much of an action hero now that he was a pipsqueak, but navigating something like this? Not much different from the 'Floor is Lava' they played before! Except there wasn't any ground for him, which was even more unfair with the still realistic possibility of, you know, dying.

Thankfully, humans were more capable than rodents. The traps were of simplistic engineering: Avoid the trip, and you wouldn't get snapped. The side facing the small heroes was obviously not intended to be picked up by large human hands, and Mirage wasn't sure if he wanted to risk lifting it. But there was a pretty easy, if not somewhat anti-climatic solution. Leaning down, Mirage's fingers graced as far as his little hands could along the ends of the most center trap, getting between it and the wall below the hatch. It took a minute, but he managed to push it far enough to give him a slight amount of leg room, to which he lowered down to finish the job. Unfortunately, while he slowly scooted the center trap forward, he got nothing but big whiffs of that wonderous cheese.

No possible people-meat. And he'd been to enough parties to know good cheese-- This stuff, despite being used for rodents, was effective clearly. Maybe that was just him starving and seeing it as more glorified than it actually was, but he didn't particularly care as he stomach growled at him like an agitated dog. He managed to turn back long enough to give the others the okay to come out, but with a warned 'Watch your step' considering he'd just made a straight path through the center.

However, perhaps to the complete concern of his fellow vent-pals, Mirage was feeling desperate and conflicted. While Sakura had tried to reinforce his decision, Kamek had made things feel a bit more... Vague. If this 'Organization' was bad, and this was supposedly the 'best route' of all their options according to them, then Mirage felt like there was something fishy. How could this hellhole be the best solution, at all? Mirage had been against the idea in the first place, his gut gave him nothing but terrible feelings about the place and it had been nothing if not proven right.

Even pushing that trap was... Pushing his capabilities, though. Mirage looked beyond, into the rest of the area ahead. Sakura, Rika, and Bella were all in danger. He said he'd buy time for the others, but how he was now, could he really do much? Nadia's words from before were starting to hit home with him, noting if he had just eaten, maybe he could have sprung out fast enough to stop the chefs from locking that door. To that extent, a more anxious part of Mirage's personality began to chew at him for not thinking of things beyond his own potential safety.

Without a word, Mirage pulled out the dart gun. He shot two darts, one to the side of the bar of the mousetrap, then one above it. The gun dropped to the ground as Mirage took his chance at the cheese, grabbing it and cramming it into his mouth. The trap activated, but the bar got caught on his platforms, allowing him to momentarily fester in his spoils. He almost melted as if he was the cheese, audible delight coming from him, though a ping of guilt too, as he turned and looked at the others. "Sowwy," He said, the cheese a comical lump as he swallowed it down. "Curse or no curse, I'm not taking risks with this rescue effort." He added to his apology, trying to explain himself. Justify the fact he betrayed the groups' no-eating idea, maybe? But the mixture of hunger and guilt he anxiously brought upon himself made it too much to resist. Like it or not, he'd partaken in food here now, too.

His eyes focused back on the area ahead. Multiple chefs, more forms than before. It seemed that his idea of coming this way would've been a terrible one, with how many people were here. But that didn't matter; They had a rescue to do, and who knows how much time there actually was to do it? With something in his stomach, Mirage was feeling a little scared of what potentially could happen, but also confident enough that he was ready to strike back against their large cooking oppressors.

"The girls need our help," He reminded, unnecessarily perhaps, but making his struggle with the food obvious. "Whatever way you want to run this, I've got this to still help out." He picked up the Dart Gun after wiping his hands on his shirt, but tucked it away as he spotted something seeming to hang from above them. He poked out for a moment, noticing a ladle hanging down. Nervously he gripped it, pushing up lightly which freed it from it's place before he quickly shifted it forward to make it fit back under to their momentary trap haven.

It was a bit heavier than something like Geralt's cool nail, but something blunt probably suited a guy who's extent of melee combat knowledge was right hooks and poking someone in the eyes. He figured if worse came to worse, he could give someone a decent smack at the ankle. Or, as he spotted what almost seemed to be sentient cups, they'd smash with one good swing.

Rather than make any sort of progressive move at the moment, he'd stay put until the three-man team had a more specific goal. There were a lot of options, and if they coordinated, they'd probably find a lot more success. "If we make a scene, it could buy some time. Dangerous, but that hasn't stopped us so far, right?" He decided to make his own input, that obvious anger from what he heard of Geralt earlier and how Link attempted to ram through the vent like a bull straight off a Gaea farm making him recognize that they'd known those girls longer than he did, but that didn't matter too much. Just meant they were very motivated, which he could get behind. He had a feeling things were about to get messy, and tried to mentally prepare himself for the potential chaos to follow.

---

Mao felt like he must've needed a new prescription for his glasses, the clang against Braum's greaves brought a moment of frustration, hands shaking from the impact, making him take a momentary focus of gripping his sword as to not drop it. A drop of sweat slowly slid down his forehead as he looked at his opponent, Braum having took notice of his presence, the hulking man even making the cocky ruler feel the willingness to retreat. And not a second too soon, either, as the force of the shield bearer's swing shifted his hair from the wind left behind.

"A simple miscalculation!" He audibly defended himself, more confidently holding his blade now that the shaking was subsiding. "And one I'll more than easily rectify!"

With Jesse's distraction, Mao lunged right back at Braum. He brought down his sword down upon the man, but as his strike connected, his pupils shrunk in response to the fact it had seemingly gotten stuck. It hadn't gone too deep, considering Braum's mass, making Mao realize the cause: Was he such a muscle-bound fool that it stopped his blade? Mao hadn't expected such bodily resilience, and a second miscalculation lead to more frustration, especially at Braum's irritating semi-friendliness. "Well it's a good thing I'm just getting started, then!" He boasted back, but this time was humbled by not being able to back it up. Braum's shield slam sent Mao to the ground, the only saving grace of the fall being that his sword tore at the man's flesh as it was yanked out during the descent.

Realizing the error of his ways, he tactically retreated. Mao rolled backwards, the building mist being something he attempted to use as cover. He'd get Braum for this, but for that moment, he had to compose himself before this brute actually smashed him to pieces. "Must just be getting weaker," Mao convinced himself, perhaps an attempt at maintaining a somewhat fragile ego.

On the bright side, this gave Mao a front row seat to seeing Sven's demise. Absolute obliteration, which would probably anger Midna, but after being condensed into animal form before, Mao had no issue with seeing him turn into nothing but a small, familiar glowing ball on the ground. Recalling his own experience with Ara Mitama, he noted that there were quite a few potential values to ending a life in this world. If but for only a moment, Mao eyed Gunnar, wondering if he could've gained some of his abilities if he'd just skewered the man. But even though the potential sounded great, he wasn't about to go through with it. Both because he was already on their side and it'd be hard to justify, and there was just... Something about the old guy. He was pretty good.

Shifting from the idea of killing people, Mao was brought to alert not by Braum, but rather by Ciella. The shift from another one of her wide-scale attacks made him think he might need to run, but there wasn't any time for that. As Mao attempted to move, he soon found the arrows from the sky being effective from their surprise factor alone. Multiple arrows pierced through Mao's body, one going through his leg which instantly sent him crashing to the ground with his movement attempt. The second tore into his shoulder, weapon instantly dropping from his hand as both impacts caused enough anguish to be audible.

In a series of unfortunate events, Mao had gone from confident and vengeful to a rather pathetic mess on the ground. Having one usable arm and leg meant he could barely move, but at least nothing had torn through something like his head. Soaked and battered, he wasn't able to do much about Nastasia and Shadow, let alone Ciella, without healing aid. So in a mess of wet sand, cold wet clothes, and his own blood, Mao remained on the ground.

But, being down wasn't entirely out. Mao shifted his off-hand under his coat, charging his Star magic in preparation for what retaliation he could manage if someone decided to bring themselves upon him. The metal made a rather difficult terrain for his mechanical limbs to travel on, but between them and his good leg, Mao felt he could potentially move himself somewhat if needed. But in his condition, he'd rather just stay put. He looked mostly dead, though most people in the arena could probably tell he was still alive just by the fact he hadn't ended up as a Spirit.

If someone approached, his heavy breathing would also be a clear sign of life. Trying to repress the pain in his leg and shoulder, not being weak enough to make a ruckus about his injuries a second time. He just hoped what defensive measures he had were enough to keep himself from being the victim of anyone deciding to make their way over.

Only after the trip across the Land of Adventure was about twenty minutes underway did Nero really get a grasp of its scale--and realize he’d made the absolute correct choice gunning for a vehicle to cross it with. These rolling plains, verdant forests, and breezy hills went on forever. The Bowsermobile made steady progress through the picturesque scenery under Banjo’s direction, skirting around craggy rocks and fording sparkling streams when need be, but they had a long way to go, and offroading was never a comfortable prospect. Nero dreaded running of gas but said nothing, since he couldn’t see how it would help. Instead he kept his eyes on whatever creatures he spotted from his rear seat throughout the course of the journey. Occasionally he glimpsed a creature from his own world, like buffalo or prairie dogs, but more often his searching eyes found fauna on the fantastical side. He could see prehistoric monsters from the long-necked giants to the raptors to strange ones that daffled his powers of description before they disappeared from his view. Unfamiliar birds walked the land or soared through the sky alongside bizarre mantas whose rumbling noises could be heard even on the ground. Once, an aggressive troll-like brute charged at the Bowsermobile from behind, but a number of well-placed shots from Nero and Pit convinced it to stay away.

Other than that, the trip across the Land of Adventure remained mostly uneventful. The majority of creatures that the team encountered seemed determined to mind their own business so long as the intruders minded theirs, and when the four encountered a small team of Lumbridge adventurers out on some quest they either greeted each other without stopping or simply moved along. Since they didn’t need supplies or have anything to do there the mercenaries skipped a stop at Lumbridge altogether and carried on northwest, until the green greens of the Land of Adventure finally gave way to arid badlands. It was about noon when the Bowsermobile finally choked its last, totally out of juice, and slid to a stop. Nero sighed and hauled himself from the car to land on the dusty road and stretch the cramps from his muscles. “Well,” he said, looking a few miles ahead to where an edifice of white concrete and gleaming metal rose stood alone, “We almost made it.” He regarded the weighty vehicle with a dubious stare, wondering if the others would be much good if push came to shove.

After a few moments of contemplation the devil hunter raised a finger and tapped it in the air a couple times, as if drumming up buried memories. “You know what, we might not have to push the damn thing. I remember seeing a giant, bright yellow truck at the gas station. It had to have been a tow truck.” He glanced between Banjo and Pit and settled on the latter. “Hey, you’re a speedy kid, right? Care to use all that energy to run down and let ‘em know we’re stuck out here?”

"I'm not a kid," Pit huffed. Despite the whole 'Kid Icarus' thing! He crossed his arms and leaned towards Nero, eyeing the devil hunter up and down. "Your gray head doesn't fool me, you're like, what, twenty? I'm probably older than you."

Nero rubbed his hair, a little embarrassed. “Ah. Sorry.”

The angel waved dismissively, taking no real offense. It might have been telling that even while Pit was rebutting the "kid" comment, his feet still started moving. He was a servant of a goddess, emphasis on servant, apparently. He thought Kazooie might be faster since she was a... roadrunner? No, what was it. Bre... something? Oh well. Considering she and Banjo were a package deal though, lugging the bear along might be tiring. "I'll go let somebody know!"



A half hour later the four arrived at Hammerhead. They were hot, tired, and sweaty, but things could have been a lot worse, and they’d made it to the waypoint Nero spoke of at last. Here they could rest and refuel both their ride and themselves before heading for the Dead Zone. The tow truck brought the Bowsermobile to a stop by a fuel pump and hopped out onto the tarmac. The truck driver, which he knew to be the daughter of the owner, gave the mercenaries a cheerful wave. “Y’all have a good one, folks! Lemme know if ya need anythin’!”

Nero waved her off, then wiped his brow. “Whew. Could use some water after that one.”

At their stop, Banjo withdrew the Lance from the floorboard that he had been using to reach the pedals from the driver’s seat and disembarked the Bowsermobile. He didn’t get in any hurry to refuel it, however, not knowing what the machine was powered by, and having never (canonically) dealt with refueling any vehicle he had ever driven. Not exactly the most acceptable excuse to be lazy for the moment, but he took it anyway to follow Nero’s lead on the afforded moment of downtime.

“Is that a restaurant over there?” Yuri said in between breaths, extending her finger out toward the nearby Grillby’s. The prospect of shade and a nice, ice cold drink sounded wonderful.

“Uh huh,” Nero replied, but his eyes only touched on the diner for a moment. Instead his focus lay squarely on the all-too-familiar van parked in front of the gas station. Though dirtied by ash and mucilage, dented and dinged all over, and scratched by monstrous claws in the course of its perilous journey, there was no mistaking it. A certain someone’s prized, tough-as-nails Minotaurus, in the flesh so to speak. A heavy sigh of relief welled up deep within the devil hunter, releasing the knotted-up tension in his core. “Go ahead, I’ll join ya in a second. Gonna see about our ride.”

"Aw, no more convertible?" Pit lamented. It had been kind of fun cruising around in King Bowser's car.

He was fanning himself with his wings, but it did little to fight the heat. He had no qualms about leading the way toward the restaurant, where hopefully it was a little cooler inside.

Nero made for the vehicle at a brisk pace, seeing nobody in the driver’s or passenger’s seats as he approached. When he slowed down beside it he thumped the door with an open hand. “Hey! anyone home?”

From inside he heard assorted thumps and clatters as fallen objects hit the ground, followed by a rush of footsteps. A moment later the door burst open, only narrowly missing Nero’s unmoving nose, to reveal none other than the sassy gunsmith he was looking for. Nico crossed her arms and gave a toothy grin as she looked down at him. “Hey, honey. Miss me?”

“About as far as I could throw you,” Nero told her, idly scratching his head, but his friend had no trouble at all discerning his true feelings. As she smirked he ran a hand along the van’s doorframe. “Guess you and your junker made it out of there in one piece, huh?”

With a haunted look she scoffed. “Barely! I beat that damn blast by just about ten minutes, give or take, an’ it still keeled my van right over and knocked me on my ass. Just about blinded me, too! When my head finally quit achin’ I went ‘n looked, an’ the whole stinkin’ city was one big crater. But it was startin’ to storm, so I flipped the van an’ hightailed it back here.”

She leaned against the doorframe, running a hand through her hair. Nero guessed it left quite the impression, but his mission was to see that same sight for himself. “So it’s all gone? Everything erased by the explosion?”

“Not quite.” His friend narrowed her eyes. “It’s crazy, but somehow, the Qliphoth’s still there. Just pokin’ right up out of the middle and reachin’ right up to the sky, all alone. Thing’s tougher than a two-dollar steak, that’s for damn sure.”

Nero grimaced, shaking his head in disbelief. “Great. Well, guess we’re not done after all.”

Twice Nico blinked in surprise. “What, ya mean we’re goin’ back there? You go off your rocker or somethin’?”

Shrugging, the devil hunter told her, “The Seekers wanted to check to see if they still needed to take out the boss, and I volunteered. Was hoping to run into you on the way.”

“Aw, so ya did miss me! I ain’t huggin’ ya, though.”

Nero treated her to a derisive snort. “So can you give us a ride or not?”

“Hmm…” With a mischievous grin Nico stepped down from her van. “Maybe if ya buy me lunch.”

Though he rolled his eyes Nero turned in the direction of the diner, and Nico followed him after closing the side door. “Jeez, you’re gonna squeeze me dry. Well, come on. The rest of us went to get something anyway, so what’s one more addition to the party.” They crossed Hammerhead’s dusty lot and stepped inside.

It wasn't hard to find the rest of his crew. They were seated together at one end of the bar, where someone had taken the liberty of ordering a whole pizza for the group. The pie seemed to have just recently arrived, soft steam was wafting from it, and a squeak of "hot!" came from somewhere among the four.

Pit had a slice in front of him, as well as a milkshake and a plate of sweet cake, making for an unusual pairing. The angel was swiveling on his stool slightly, not even close to tall enough for his feet to brush the ground, and he looked over at the door when the bell chimed. He noticed their new addition and smiled brightly at her. "One down, one to go! Hi there!"

Though she didn’t recognize the angel Nico was quick to return the smile. “Heya! Looks like we’re already in business!” With Nero following behind, who was trying not to think about how Pit seemed to be enjoying his savories and sweets in the same mouthful, she headed over and planted herself on an unoccupied stool.

Once the devil hunter joined her she treated him to an expectant look until he flagged down the waiter. “‘Scuse me. A breaded cutlet, please. And...a Grease Monkey’s Schnitzel Sandwich for the, uh, lady.”

The fellow nodded and went off to tell the cook. Nico crossed her arms in mock reproach. “Har har. Just ‘cause I do work for truckers don’t mean I eat like one.” She didn’t seem too put off, however, and Nero said nothing further. Instead he took a look around, both to see if the bear, bird, and medium were getting on as well as Pit, and to check out Grillby’s other patrons. Given the remoteness of the place there wasn’t exactly a crowd, but he noticed a portly old biker, a blonde girl who reminded him of Cindy on her phone, and a group of three very lost vikings enjoying a midday feast.

Yuri, much like she had on the car ride over, sat with her arms and tucked in close to her body as she picked her way through an egg fried crustacean bowl. A cup of coffee, steaming hot as per Heat-Man prerogative, sat half empty beside a plastic bottle of water that was completely drained. Every time Pit swiveled in her direction she swiveled away just as slightly, turning the pair into an odd metronome. Still, she looked pleased as punch that she hadn’t been necessary to find Nero’s friend. “It’s a pleasure to see you okay, miss.” She said. “My name is Yuri.”

Cordial and cheerful as ever, Nico greeted Yuri with a warm grin. “Nice to meetcha too! Reckon grumpy here told y’all all about me, then? Gotta say I’m kinda surprised. Wouldn’t a-thought he’d go and make even more pals.”

“We’re just trying to do what’s best for everyone,” Nero gruffed.

“Uh huh, sure.” The machinist didn’t buy it for one second. She leaned over to make sure that Banjo and Kazooie were still in two pieces. “Hey again. You two remember me, right? I didn’t do any fightin’ out there, but if ya need somethin’ made or fixed up, y’all won’t be forgettin’ my artisanry.”

With a nod, Banjo assured her, “Yes, ma’am. We remember,” save for her name. “It’s good to see you made it out okay, Miss.”

Two more plates arrived at about that time, the breaded pork for Nero and the sandwich for Nico. Despite her earlier protests the machinist dug right in, and when her friend looked at her askance she shrugged in reply. “You’re just lucky I’m the kind of sophisticated lady what likes German food.”

Nero snorted. “That stuff’s about as German as you’re sophisticated.”

“Huhuh! Thanks!”

“Hmm… All this food looks kind of familiar,” Banjo casually remarked when a filling entree he could still eat with his oversized hands was set in front of him. Sparing the reference little thought, Kazooie began pecking away at the plate-load of a singular side dish that came with the order, while both wondered who would be picking up the tab and how.

“Anything useful you can tell us about where we’re heading?” she asked Nico between beakfuls, taking her on her offer to help in not the most gracious of manner (nor considering the specifics of the offer). “Like, do we actually need to go back still, or...” While the idea of a return trip to the freshly obliterated Dead Zone didn’t exactly scare her the way it probably should have, she would be less keen to find out upon arrival that they were backtracking for little to nothing. She awaited an answer, expecting disappointment…

With a mouthful of sandwich, all that Nico could say for the moment was mmph?

“There are still the people who are missing. Seven, now that we found Miss Nico.” Yuri said, thinking back to the list of names on the mission bored. She turned her attention back to Nico. “Did you see any evidence of them on your way here? Ratchet? Noctis? A Doom...Slayer?” She had precious little information about these people besides their names and the mental images that those names called to mind, which wasn’t a lot to go on. Beside her, Pit was doing a poor job of hiding his snicker at the last name she listed off.

After downing her food with the help of a drink of water. “Uh, Noctis, yeah. I was curious myself, so I done asked around a bit. Guess he an’ ‘is friends took our warnin’ to heart ‘n hightailed it outta the Dead Zone. Came by here while we were still muckin’ around in there, then went eastish. The others, I dunno.” She bit off another piece of her sandwich and set the rest down, chewing while she thought.

“Thank goddess.” Yuri said.

“As fer the Dead Zone, it’s basically a big honkin’ crater, but somehow the Qliphoth’s still standin’. Dunno how it survived the nuke, but there it is, right as rain.”

“Figures.” Kazooie responded flatly, Banjo nodding with a soft sigh. They both knew better than to think it would be that easy.

Nero bristled, his expression sour. “That means our target is too--the Dead Zone’s ‘boss.’” He shook his head ruefully. “Couldn’t just give us a break and go down with the city, I guess. Since we’re on scouting duty, we should drive there and see what we can. Clear the way for the takedown team.” Raising his glass he finished off his water in a few long gulps. Kazooie wasn’t the only one who wanted to avoid the place, they couldn’t push their duty aside. Not given the state of things.

"Wait, what's a kly-fodd?" Pit asked, looking between those that had seen it before. It didn't sound very fearsome, but if it could survive that huge explosion... and wasn't even the area's boss? "Are we gonna have to deal with it while we're on clean up duty? Is it a demon? Zombie? ...zombie-demon?"

“A demon tree, more or less,” Nero replied. “We’re just handling recon, so we’re not taking it down just yet. But we’ll probably still need to defend ourselves at some point, so don’t relax just yet.” The devil hunter took a moment to consider his current surroundings. “Or, get your relaxing done while we’re here, I guess.”

"Don't have to tell me twice," Pit laughed. He returned to his food, but thoughts about the "demon tree" were still spinning around in his head. He ended up looking back and forth between his plate and his companions, pausing in his eating whenever a question came to mind.

"D'you think it's weak to fire because it's a tree, or since it's kinda demon-y it's used to fire?" He turned to Nico, eyes bright. "Could you make a flamethrower? Oh, does Nero's hand already shoot fire?"

He stopped after the words tumbled out of his mouth, another thought suddenly popping into his head. "I guess thinking about it doesn't exactly count as relaxing. Hehe, sorry."

“Can it shoot fire though?” Yuri asked, genuinely curious now that Pit had asked. “Or rockets? Laser beams?” Apparently nothing was now outside the realm of possibility.

"That would be so cool!"

“Hold your horses, partner!” Nico laughed. “I don’t suspect the tree’s weak to nothin’ after takin’ that nuke, but if y’all need flamethrowers, ya got the right gal! I can fix up a simple doohickey like that in my sleep!”

At the risk of inviting a relevant practical issue back to the table when advised to relax, Banjo decided to get ahead of their travel arrangements. “So… do we still need both vehicles, or would we rather carpool there?” A prudent question to be sure, but it would be a lie to say he wasn’t looking to subtract further operation, care or maintenance of the Bowsermobile from his list of responsibilities. Better to leave it with more qualified people in a safer area, lest it turn out, in the worst case, that the wrathful king held it dear, but mostly Banjo just wanted to take the trip a little easier. With already another on the itinerary, he figured it would be difficult enough.

Nero thought about it. “I think we should all take the van. Plenty of room, more storage, more protection, more everything.” He noticed his friend wheeling her hand around expectantly, and with a quick sigh added, “And a better driver.”

“No argument there,” Banjo concurred amicably.

Yuri smiled at the decision. The Koopa car had been too cramped for her tastes. It was just a quick turn or a sudden bump away from her brushing shoulders with the person seated next to her, and there was an inherent risk every time that happened of her seeing something she wasn’t supposed to see. “None from me, as well. A friend of my mentor had a van he would loan to us occasionally when she had to travel for work. They’re very comfortable vehicles. It should make for a pleasant ride.” She had no idea what she was in for.

A few minutes more and the freshly refueled mercenaries made their way to the freshly refueled van. They piled into its shaded, temperature-regulated interior, and once all were aboard with Nero riding shotgun and Nico behind the wheel, their driver revved the engines. A moment later the weighty vehicle was rumbling down the open road, Hammerhead left in its dust.

---

The roads of the Paved Wilderness lead steadily northeast through arid, craggy badlands, past sandy riverbeds and giant caterpillars of hardy shrubs. Despite the blasted hellscape that awaited them at the end of their journey, Nico’s passengers couldn’t do much but pass the time until they arrived. The terrain outside, at least, offered some distraction. They passed anthills several times taller than the average man, complete with rather large ants. Much taller were the strange curled spires that rose above the scrubland, inviting much wonderment. Some time later the van rolled through a region that looked as though it was made of cheese, though how sanitary said cheese might be was up for debate. There certainly seemed to be a couple vehicles parked here and there, be they tourists’ camper vans or trucks for hauling off nature’s cheesy bounty once harvested.

Most eye-catching, however, were the manmade elements of the region. Racetracks littered the terrain, weaved over and around one another. At one point, Nico nearly had to swerve to avoid an odd-looking machine as it soared off a natural ramp nearby. As it flew through the air the group could see a vehicle styled after a grasshopper, which landed a moment later on the next part of its racetrack and sped off down the road. Those who took it on themselves to look backward would find a frog bot, a stag beetle, and a whole host of other animal-themed racers in hot pursuit. The frog pulled away from the others, a mechanical arm extending from its top to reach out and grab a pole that stood up from the ground. It span at high speed, rising higher and higher, and finally launched back in the direction of the track to overtake the grasshopper in an impressive display of both courage and skill. The centipede tried the maneuver too, but ended up missing its mark and wiping out against a wall of rock. As it exploded in a shower of twisted metal Nico glanced in the rear-view mirror, eyebrow raised. “Well ain’t that somethin’. Sure hope people weren’t actually drivin’ those, huh?”

“We can only pray.” Yuri stutterd out. She hadn’t seen the crash. She turned away and shut her eyes tight the moment she had realized what was about to happen but that hadn’t blocked out the terrible, familiar, sound of the impact. It made her feel queasy.

Eventually the wastes gave way to rocky hills, their coats of green grass suggesting that at last the mercenaries had left the Paved Wilderness behind. Along with it went the sunny blue skies, clear as crystal, in favor as gray cloud cover. The team drew closer to their goal in near-silence; both pleasant exchanges and idle distractions were behind them now that they could see their target. Nero, Nico, Banjo, and Kazooie remembered the Qliphoth from their time in the Dead Zone prior, the coiled demonic trunk that rose like a colossal pillar from the ruined city’s center, its highest reaches unwound to interlace with the lowest point of the blanket of darkness that hung over the Dead Zone in a mad spiral. Now, however, the Qliphoth defied comparison. It hung over the city like a colossal balloon, or another planet, moored to the ground by countless cords, its ‘surface’ the interlaced canopy threads of pale trees whose trunks came together to meet at a single core. Only its bottom reaches could be seen beneath the storm clouds, but it couldn’t be much less wide than the city itself. When the van reached a hilltop just beyond Redgraccoon’s outskirts, the team could step outside and see from that overlook what lay below the Qliphoth--or rather, what didn’t. Of the cursed city nothing remained. Just a crater. Ashen stone blotched by a vast tract of tar, the shape of which Nero thought rather resembled a gigantic handprint.



The devil hunter could hear the rumble of thunder. It looked like it was raining over the city, liable to sweep his group’s way any minute now. He sighed. “Well. At least there’s no more zombies.”

"Yeah but there's that! Jeez, you guys weren't kidding!" Pit had been openly staring at the Qliphoth since they'd parked. It was exactly as they'd described, a demonic tree, but was so much bigger than he'd expected. No wonder it had survived the explosion. He was surprised they hadn't seen it way earlier during the drive, but the storm clouds prevented that he guessed.

Eventually he tore his eyes away to look at the crater around it. "Looks like there's nothing else, at least from up here," the angel said, "we going to take a closer look anyway?"

As hard as it was to rip her attention away from the demon tree, once she did Yuri was far more disturbed in what lay below it. Barren and lifeless, nothing to draw the eye, except for the liquid and its disquiting shape. “Black?” she said to herself, transfixed on it. She raised the Camera Obscura to her eye and peered through it down into the crater, using the camera's meager zoom to get as close a look as possible at the tar. It couldn't be the same thing. The Shadow Spring was sealed, forever, but Yuri wasn’t willing to give that liquid the benefit of the doubt about being natural. Not with that shape, and not with the feeling she was getting. She felt the hairs on the back of her neck stand up as the chill coiled up around her spine like a serpent.

“No, there is something down there. I can feel it. That crater is not empty.” she said anxiously to Pit, lowering the camera so as not to provoke anything. It was as she had feared when she had learned the name of this place. After an explosion like that, the only thing left were the ghosts. “I can’t tell how many, or how strong, but if we get closer I might be able to lead us around them. If not…”

She looked back at Nico, an idea inspired by their earlier conversation in the diner. “I don’t suppose you have a ‘ghost-busters’ arm stashed away in your van?” She asked. That was a cinematic special effect she wouldn't mind at all seeing in real life. “My Camera Obscura can drive off spirits if they attack, but I don’t know if all of your weapons would work on them.”

The inventor was forced to shake her head. “Sorry, hun. Ain’t a lot of ghosts where we come from, an’ bullets work pretty much fine on those we do got.”

"Guess you'll be depending on me then!" Pit said, puffing his chest out proudly. "I've got plenty of experience with spirits, specters, and all kinds of Underworld baddies. Ghosts won't be a problem!"

Yuri’s warning, meanwhile, had prompted some extra caution from Nero. The devil hunter couldn’t see what she saw or feel what she felt, but it was hard to deny that an odd feeling hung over this place, more palpable than those rainclouds. Even if he couldn’t see any active threats across the miles of desolation, the atmosphere was heavy, even disquieting. Like the sensation that gnaws one when visiting a site of historical tragedy, a place where vast amounts of people died. Nero knew that feeling from his last stint in Redgrave City, seeing all those flaky, human-shaped masses of bloodless matter. It was a heavy feeling.

“It doesn’t look like there’s anything else,” he confirmed Pit’s assessment after a few more moments. “Don’t know if we can get away with not taking a closer look, though. There could be pits or trenches we’re not seeing, or unstable ground, or hidden dangers of some kind. If we go back without at least trying to get an idea of any hazards, anything that happens to the strike team’s gonna be on us.” He rolled his shoulders and tramped forward, headed down the slope toward the crater. “Up here with me, Yuri. If there’s ghosts we’ll need you handy.”

The team proceeded in the direction of the Qliphoth. Though the rough terrain proved to be annoying enough to demand a bare minimum of attention paid to one’s footwork, it was hardly hazardous, and with no enemies whatsoever to be found the trek quickly got boring. Whether through instinct or response to that earlier sinking feeling, however, Nero kept his guard up and his eyes open.

As his crew drew closer to the crater he noticed only one real oddity, which took the form of the area’s vegetation. The land for a good distance beyond the crater’s perimeter on any side but the west -which opened straight into Empty Space- was green with low-lying grass, but that band contained no trees or shrubs of any kind. Way to the east lay the forest at the foothills of the mountainous area that eventually swelled into a range of peaks that separated the Dead Zone’s region from the Sandswept Sky. Its trees cut off in a notable abrupt fashion, not at the edge of the crater, but at the band. Though no botanist Nero thought that the trees right at the forest’s outer reaches facing the crater looked unwell; their color and stature set them apart. Some kind of radiation, maybe? Not a pleasant thought.

A grumble of thunder turned his attention forward, to where he could see a curtain of rain advancing out from the devastation to greet him. He peered into the oncoming rain, too paranoid to be at peace, and soon enough noticed something else that struck him as odd. He could see distant birds taking off as the wall of precipitation drew near, and they flew away from the city center with what appeared to be haste. And he couldn’t be sure, but Nero thought he saw the couple of flapping black dots that got caught in the rain suddenly fall but to earth again.

A handful of the crows flew overhead, their raucous cawing breaking his focus. Nero slowed to a stop, his expression cloudier than the sky overhead. Raindrops were starting to fall here and there, splashing on the grass and exposed stone. Suddenly he became aware of something descending a few hundred feet away. One of the noisy birds that had fallen behind now dropped to the earth, its wings and legs in the grip of spasms. A chill ran down Nero’s back. Something wasn’t right.

"Erm… Kazooie?" Banjo started, upon observing the ailing avian stock dropping like rocks in the rain. "You wouldn't happen to be allergic to rain, would you?" he asked in a half-assed attempt to rationalize the approaching phenomena.

"Not that I know of..." she replied simply, somewhat nervously. The sensation that something was dreadfully wrong was shared between them…

Yuri felt it too, and it piled on to her mistrust of the water. As a drop landed near her she instinctively took a step away from where it had fallen. “We should go back to the van.” She said, a sense of urgency rising in her voice as she began backing up. “There’s something wrong with the water.”

“Yeah, let’s go, go, go! Now!” Nero’s voice became a commanding yell that, along with the general sense of tension and disquiet, shocked everyone into action. The small group took off as if they had springs in their heels, sprinting over the disheveled ground back the way they came. Seeing the team headed her way in a real hurry, Nico quit lounging around the hood of her van and made for the driver’s seat. A moment later the engine of the formidable Minotaurus roared to life, but as it reached the mercenaries the swelling sound of rainfall was coming up behind them.

Like hellhounds at their feet, grasses and flowers sprouted from the naked earth in mere moments, growing to full size and then wilting in an impossibly short span of time. Frontrunner drops spattered against them. Just a few turned cloth ragged, then threadbare. A droplet’s touch could turn hairs gray, fray feathers, or age a body’s epidermis, making one’s skin thinner, paler, drier, less elastic, and even wrinkled or spotty. Of course, it lay beyond any unfortunate soul’s power to realize just what was happening, and they only felt the sting of what might as well be acid rain as it came down.

As Nero approached he could see slight blotches of discoloration on the roof of the van, but he focused instead on the door. Nico had thrown it wide open in preparation for abrupt departure; everyone could jump inside. But would that be fast enough? Nero, Banjo, and Pit all moved with superhuman speed, but Yuri had no such luck. The devil hunter turned and readied his Bringer to Wire Snatch the girl to safety.

Kazooie carried Banjo on the fleetest of feet in the scouting party, but in so doing faced her partner to the sky from which oily black droplets of stinging entropy fell upon him in their efforts to effectively outpace the encroaching storm that brought it. Banjo shielded his face as best as he could as splotches of grey burned into his fur, wore frayed threads into his shorts and backpack straps, and lightly weathered and rusted his belt buckle. Kazooie bounded for the van’s open doors, turning over to avert Banjo from further rain blight while she receded into the relative safety of his backpack, and Banjo tucked into himself to shield his from the rain and impending impact as he unintentionally became a living cannonball, clumsily barrelling in dangerously past Nico hailing them in.

"Ow, ow!" Though skeptical at first (after all, how dangerous could rain really be?), once the first droplet of water touch him Pit pulled his wings in as tight to his body as possible and ran all the harder. He was thoroughly convinced after that moment. What is wrong with this rain?! he thought, swatting at the falling water for all the good it did. He bodily threw himself through the doors of the van, probably leaving a dent in the interior where he'd collided with the steel. Dazed but unfazed, Pit scrambled up and out of the way, peering out of the opening. "Come on come on, hurry!"

Yuri wrapped her arms close to her body and kept her head down as stinging raindrops caressed her head and shoulders. Even the rain on Mt. Hikami had never been so accursed as to hurt like this. Was it the demon tree? The explosion? Or was whatever entity had left that print responsible? Regardless, all she could do was grit her teeth and run while knowing she would catch the worst of it.

Before she could get soaked, though, she felt something wrap around her chest. She could only see it was a wire before she was suddenly yanked through the air by a force strong enough to throw around whole demons. Luckily she was already mostly tucked in, so Nero was able to catch her and deposit her onto the van floor like a football. She looked up at him, breathing heavy, streaks of grey standing stark against the raven black of her hair. “Thank you.” She said.

Niceties could come later. Rather than reply to Yuri Nero hauled himself up to the front of the van, shouting, “Gun it, Nico!” even though he barely needed to tell her. Like an prodded beast the engine of the Minotaurus roared to life, sending the wheels into a frenzied spin that tore through the moss and loam of the former Dead Zone’s peripheral plains to speed the van on its way. The rocky terrain jolted it occupants violently, demanding their full attention just to avoid ricocheting around like billiard balls, but no amount of bruises compared to the threat of accelerated aging. With Nico at the wheel and the pedal to the metal, the van rocked and rattled toward and past the stormfront. It wasn’t long before they reached the road and could really start to pick up speed. The timefall, meanwhile, slowed down behind them.

Once the brutal jostling gave way to a smooth if not leisurely ride, and the mercenaries had the inclement weather squarely in their rear view mirror, they could steady their breathing and calm their frenzied hearts. Nursing a bloody scrape on his forehead, Nero cast one last, long look back, into the misty haze of deadly rain and the sky-high Qliphoth that loomed within. “Scary,” he breathed.

With the ice broken, Nico did not hold back. “You gotta be shittin’ me with that rain!” she fumed. “That bullcrap turned a coupla my curls gray and gave me a big ol’ wrinkle smack dab on my forehead! Lookie here, see? Just like my grandma’s, bless ‘er heart!”

“Caught a couple drops myself,” the devil hunter said dryly. “We got out in time, though, and we’ve got a hell of a report to give.” With a sigh he turned his gaze on the dusty road ahead. “And a long way back.” After wiping a backhand’s worth of sweat and dirt from his brow he got up, removed his coat, and went to hit the onboard shower.

The royal koopas and their mighty robot companion hammered on the door again and again and again with all their might. They making good progress right up until a scraping sound accompanied by yelling came from behind the door and something was slammed in place behind, barricading them out.

”GAAAH!” ”Owwwww” came a pair of cries as the first and final blow against the cupboard barred door jarred the arms of the father and son team, causing both to drop their hammer based bartering ram to shake of the pain.

”Well… this isn't going to work now.” Jr was forced to admit after rapping at the door and finding it completely unbudgeable now ”Did they at least get in ok?”

”They better!” Bowser replied, before stomping over and checking, only to find the troop of heroes turning to go the exact opposite direction they needed ”Hey. Where are you going! That’s the wrong way!” He roared after them.

When informed about the other way being blocked, he’d inform his son, who was instantly worried about his minion being all alone in her assault

”Aw shoot. Mimi! Mimi? Get to safety they aren't coming fast enough! He shouted, hammering on the door again, trying to get her attention.

---

On the other side of the door, the mon had figured this out on her own, though only after having to squeeze her way through the cupboard, and its contents as well as the door she’d originally tried to get through. Sneaking through solid matter wasn't exactly fast for the half ghost, who poked her ‘chest’ out through the front door of the cupboard to take a peek at what was going on. What she found was Sakura, Rika and a growing Bella all strung up over a fire. Which was not a good place to be, in her basic assessment. Plus, help didn't look like it was on the way, so even though there was just one big guy left, Mimi decided to be sneaky about this rather than try and fight the very very large man armed with a nasty nasty metal cleaver.

So the little cloth doll of a pokemon squeezed herself out of the cupboard and then started to slink and sneak her way around the kitchen, avoiding the chopping Larry’s gaze as she headed for the hanging girls, one of whom was just waking up from her shaking.

“Hmmmm. Wha. hmmm…. Oh hey Sakura. You ok? Why do I feel so... Toast?” Rika mumbled as consciousness returned and she looked around, and then down and found why she was feeling so warm. She did not take it well, crying out in alarm and struggling for a moment, only for the knot tied around her hands (and gauntlets) to shift a little and threaten to lose and drop her into the fire just as Larry had warned while she was out, causing her to freeze up.

After staring down for a few moments, she tried to breathe deeply to calm herself and then coughed as the smoke from the fire caught in her lungs.

“Urgh, bleh, awful”

She shook her head and wondered how they were going to get out of this. She could wiggle loose. And fall in the fire. She could shoot her guns at the hook holding her up. And fall in the fire. Even if she could swing herself and free herself at just the right moment to drop past the fire, that was still a long, long way to fall even with her gauntlets lowering her weight. Plus, even if she didn’t go splat, she’d just be leaving the others behind, and that wouldn’t do.

A more controlled cut to free their hands while still letting them hold onto the rope might give them options, and if that was something they went for, she did have an option for that. Kind of.

“I, uh, have half a pair of scissors in my pocket?” she offered, now thankful that no one had taken it off her, but there was a snag in that plan, which was “But I can't reach them. Sorry. Maybe that’s a stupid idea”

She really really hoped one of the others had an idea, or that help was on the way.

And help was indeed on the way, coming from above, around and, closest to them, slinking around the kitchen the long way, was Mimi, who, if/when spotted by the trio, would give a little wave before getting back to sneaking closer to them to help out however she could, be it scissor retrieval or distraction causing or simple moral support.

---

”I’m sure she’s laying low. Pretty sure we’d have heard if she wasn't, that little minion’s can be a real trouble maker” Bowser told his son, clapping the boy on the shoulder encouragingly when there was no response from Mimi, who was well out of hearing range of the door.

”I... Yeah I guess” jr replied uncertainty, before saying ”She’ll be fine. They’ll all” more confidently, entirely to convince himself that that was the case.

”Yeah, they will. Now, let's catch up to old Kamek. There’s gotta be another way around here somewhere, and I’ll bet he’s already got a lead on it” Bowser told Jr (and Blazermate if she wasn't already gone). He got a nod and the two set off at once, diverting their path only briefly so that Bowser could pick up Rika’s dropped doll

---

Kamek and Nadia had made good time working as a team to get the door open, and by that Kamek would have to admit it was mostly the fed Nadia, who magnet grappled the key down for him to catch, who did most of the work. Still, the koopa was there to be a receiver and so dutifully caught and slammed the passed key home into the lock, before spinning it with his dangling body-weight, opening the way and then dropping down into an awaiting Nadia’s arms

”ah. Thank you Miss-” he was in the middle of thanking her for catching him when the feral slipped and fell, tossing him aside just in time to avoid crushing him ”eek!”

The tossed turtle landed on his shell’s stomach on the soapy ground and, as koopa shells were wont to do, started sliding along the ground uncontrollably by. Normally he would have tried to stop this undignified skid at once by digging in his boots, but, unfortunately, the ground was slippery with the same soap that had tripped Nadia, there was nothing he could do but slide by the busy koopas, bounce off the far wall (ducking inside his shell to avoid bashing his brains out), and then come spinning all the way back, whisking by Nadia’s jet skiing traversal and sliding all the way back and then out through the door they’d unlocked and entered through, sailing right towards ”Sire look out!”

”Oh no you don't. Jr, get behind me and catch!” Bowser commanded his son, stepping right in the path of the out of control mini koopa shell. He stabbed the horns of his hammer into the ground and ducked under the head, forming it into a ramp that caused Kamek to launch up and over the king’s head, and right into a jumping catch by his son

”Gotcha!” jr cheered as he snatched the koopa out of the air like a basketball and then landed back on the ground, before dusting some of the suds off himself and the koopa before putting the old made young koopa down on his own two feet again.

”What are you doing, messing around? We have ladies to rescue!” Bowser demanded to know, to which the dizzy Kamek could only reply by pointing through the door and informing them that it was ”Slippery”

Forewarned, the king, the prince and his trusty swine all poked their heads into the washroom without slipping, and found the line of washers inside.

”Hey, are those our minions? What are they doing working for this place’s ghoul of a lady?” Jr asked as they spotted the troopas. Both he and his dad had zero interest in the fork like Volbonan (jr had never seen them anyway, and while Bowser did remember them from when he stole their stew to use it as the main course at his wedding , he certainly did not remember that that was what they were called) other than a brief thought of using them as weapons/climbing gear.

”Yeah they are!” Bowser agreed, handing over the porcelain doll to jr for a moment (who tried and failed to hand if of to Kamek because it was a girl’s toy) and then, despite the fact that the last set of his minions they’d encountered had attacked on sight, carefully stepped out onto the soap floor, puffed himself up as much as he could and then shouted at the turtley dishwashers commandingly ”HEY, KOOPA TROOPAS! GREAT NEWS, YOUR KING IS HERE TO LIBERATE YOU FROM DISH CLEANING DUTY. NOW QUIT SCRUBBING AND FORM UP! WE HAVE A SHIP TO CONQUER! Also I mean you’re really bad at it look at this mess there is soap everywhere, yeesh.”

Sakura was pretty close to limp, only barely adjusting herself to be as comfortable as possible in her captor's grasp. Sobbing quietly, her face twisted with fear and shame, she could do nothing but gasp as she realised her next perilous situation. Bound and tied! Hands over her head, feet dangling, hanging over an open fire. The butcher warned her not to struggle but she couldn't help it. Heat licked at her little legs. They started to sweat and she shifted awkwardly, coughing, at first as a by product of her crying but then as a result of the smoke she accidentally inhaled sharply. With a laugh, the big chef blocked the door entirely as her allies fruitlessly battered against it.

A blazing fire was beneath her, and all three Seekers were hung above it, ready to use ingredients. And all of it was Sakura's fault. Her stupid non-plan. What had she been thinking? She hadn't been thinking. Hunger and desperation had made her reckless. Of course there would be chefs nearby that would hear the noise, right? How could she not have predicted that?

The arguments and back and forths of the chef caught her attention. Clearly they did not like each other very much. Real people, not monsters, were the most dangerous thing onboard this ship. Opposable thumbs plus intelligence. It helped that they were four times her size, of course...and she had none of her training. This was the worst day of Kasugano Sakura's life.

The same probably went for Bella and Rika. They're lives had just begun. Rika was still unconscious, and Bella was being poked and prodded at by their cruel captor. Sakura squinted, spotting that Bella seemed to be...growing? Like she was seven. From one little snack? Mentally, Sakura kicked herself. If that magical undoing of their youngness curse kept up, in one short, full meal, Sakura could get to 14 years old and absolutely wipe the floors with these chumps. Sakura knew without a doubt in her mind that these fat bastards were cowards. If she was at her best, or even at her mediocre, she could punch their guts so hard they came out of their mouth before they could say 'bon appetit'. Impotent, indignified fury filled the little girl's heart, only causing more tears to spill forth.

Rika woke back up, and Sakura just stared at her, a harrowed expression on her face. Rika struggled briefly but, it was pointless. "I...I don't know." She said, voice quiet and small. She looked at Rika's back pocket and then up to her own bindings, and then to the long fall onto the flames below.

"...I guess...we just...hope they come for us. Somehow." Sakura sobbed, swallowing dryly. Rika had a pair of scissors, but there wasn't much they could do with that. "It's not stupid, I'm stupid. I'm sorry, Rika-chan...Bella-san...I'm sorry. This never should have happened." She hung her head a moment. While looking down, she saw MiMi, Junior's friend, come through the door. They really were coming for them. Mimi lifted Sakura's spirits, stopping them from being crushed entirely.

Gritting her teeth, the starved child thought to convey some information that might be useful. "Bella-san, you are getting bigger." She whispered to her Abyssal friend. "I think eating did it. In- in a good way. You aren't fat or anything-" Sakura said. She shook her head. "This is besides the point!" She whispered, coughing some more.

"I'm not sure how old you are, but...if eating just a little gives you some years, then maybe it's worth it? If I could eat enough just to get to 14 years old, I'm sure I could wipe the floor with all three of these chumps..." Sakura said, blinking away tears. "Kuso...kuso!" Sakura swore angrily to herself, squeezing her eyes shut as she lifted her legs up high to get away from the heat. But the hunger in her belly and exhaustion caused her to relent. Frustrated and defeated, the only plan she could think of that wouldn't make things worse would be to wait and hope for rescue. The idea of even more people putting themselves in danger on her behalf tore her up inside. Ideally they would focus on Rika and especially Bella first, since the Water Princess can still fight, even slightly.

As he departed to enter the hatch, Geralt made sure to turn and catch the nail that Kamek had sent back to him. Going it in such a small group, they'd need every advantage they could get.

Geralt was not having a good time in the vent. He was hungry, starving really, he was angry at having been kidnapped, and then at his friends having been RE-kidnapped, and this vent plan had turned out to be somewhat of a bust. There was no way to directly get to the girls that had been taken by the chefs. They kept on, however, despite the cold leeching their body heat to the point of pain and the extreme slope that sought to tumble them.

Thankfully, at the end of their path was a hatch that they could exit from. At the same time, a bunch of mouse traps were lying in wait for them right outside that hatch. Some were baited with cheese, and others with meat. Having followed behind Mirage, there wasn't much for Geralt to do but wait as he cleared the way for them. Emerging once it was safe to do so, Geralt frowned at the sight of Mirage taking the cheese from a trap that he'd cleverly prevented from springing and killing him.

Part of him was annoyed at Mirage for succumbing after having come so far. Part of him figured that they needed somebody who wasn't running off of adrenaline, anger, spite, and fumes at this point. Part of him was even tempted to grab a piece of cheese with his nail and dig in himself.

Still, thoughts of the various horrible ways curses could take hold against made it practically impossible to desire food at the moment. On some physical level, of course he wanted to eat. But on a deeper, psychological level, the thought of food repulsed him, knowing that it could cause him to become any manner of horrific mutated abominations. It could cause him to be stuck as a child forever. It could cause unchecked growth into a suitable meal for the chefs. Anything could happen, and it was that which kept Geralt from partaking himself.

"I'd prefer to keep to the shadows, personally. There's only three of us and at least a dozen of them. As much as I'd love to tear a path through these whoresons, I'd rather do so once the girls are safe."

The fight between Braum and Mao did not very well. Braum was just too big and too tough, and besides, he was an ally who wasn't in his right mind. Mao was probably taking it easy on him, or something. Jesse had made that mistake a lot recently, she felt.

However Jesse couldn't focus on that, for in front of her very eyes Uncle Sven, the man she had gone out of her way to take alive, was obliterated by Shadow magic. Exasperated, Jesse flung up her hands.

Then to make matters worse, even more friendly fire. This time pointed her way. Jesse swore as a large mass of watery spikey arrows engulfed the entire arena. Her Health shield burst as she shielded her eyes from the impact. "Ooow!"

Blood ran down her hand from a cut that had formed there, and Jesse gritted her teeth. Glancing over her shoulder, Mordecai and his bird were still alive. Mao seemed down for the count. The Phantom Thieves had gotten hit hard, too. Jesse didn't even know who to be mad at. Worst of all she wouldn't even be getting a debriefing, and if she did, it wasn't like she could just start firing people. This whole operation was a god damn mess. The sooner she got more of her powers back, the sooner she could stop having to reply on other people so much. Or maybe they would just realise their previous management was shit, and let her take charge.

(A little over a year ago and the last thing I would want would be people relying on me, but after stepping up as Director, shitshows like this just made me want to start filing spreadsheets. What are we gonna do about all this? This cannot go on.)

That blue villainess escaped into the shadow realm with her pet hedgehog. Joker, the one person here who Jesse was finding she could rely on, had the idea to use Sven's power on Nastasia and Shadow. A morph potion to turn them into small animals and start kicking them around.

(That sounds wrong.)

Point is, it was a good plan, but their problem was a lack of a reliable way of doing so. They didn't have easy access to the alchemists potions. Jesse approached the 'corpse' of Uncle Sven. Crouching over it, she scooped it up gently in her hand. Fusing with it was a no go. Turning into part spherical cartoon old man sounded absolutely dysphoric. From what Primrose had told her, and from what she had picked up from Mao and Joker, apparently dead or dying people and creatures could be convinced to join a team? Especially since Sven, while alive, had been under double mind control, maybe him helping her wasn't the most outlandish thing in the world.

Clearing her throat, Jesse started speaking for the first time this whole fight. "Hey there, uh, potion guy. Listen: I wasn't trying to kill you, right? I was trying to take you alive by making you big. Sorry about that. Your shitty 'teammate', who you probably didn't even like, is the reason you're dead. Join my team, and I'll give you a chance to turn that guy and your evil boss into funny animals as soon as they pop out of that black hole. Then, we win. Oh and, my name's Jesse, by the way." The redhead managed.

---

---

@Potemking@MULTI_MEDIA_MAN

---

Link hated the smell in this vent. He hated how it made his mouth water, even knowing what most of that savoryness was probably made from. It smelled so warm and inviting her started to drool. How could it be so cold in this tunnel when there were roaring cooking fires so nearby?

At least the sound of the chefs arguing with each other had drowned out any noise made by their crawling, which meant that when they finally reached their destination they still had surprise on their side. He waited in the back of the line, agitations making his shake as much as the old. What was taking so long? He just had to keep calm when Mirage called back that they were expecting someone to try this this.

They had to give him the second, and as Link crawled out he got the picture. This time the food definitely was the trap, each tempting morsel baiting a pressure switch. Mirage carefully disarmed one, but Link should have figured he was after the cheese. He watch, jealous, as the boy gulped it down. That was the last straw for him, especially with all the smells coming from this kitchen. He pulled the carrots he had pilfered out of his boot. Meager though it was it would perhaps give him the energy to make sure nothing went wrong. Enough to cut, at least, when it came to that.

They didn't crunch when he bit into them, at least not until he got to the cores. They were practically mush already, not something he would even feed to his horses, but good goddess was he ever grateful for it now. He would have offered one to Geralt, but the look the boy gave Mirage when he made this same dumb dumb decision was enough to tell him where the Witcher stood on the matter. "I'll get cursed if it means getting the people that aren't out of here."

As Mirage and Geralt pitched their strategies Link studied the room they were in. There were four pairs of eyes shared between five monsters in this room, only one of which he knew. The grotesque chef, a relievedly normal looking one, and a man in a dirty coat that he was almost positive had been the angry voice they had heard. Besides them were a pair of one eyed food monsters that were turning the other chefs scraps into delicious looking fried fish and the walking teacups wandering the floor and tables. He hadn't expected there to be so many, and the sight of a losing battle temporarily quelled the violence in his heart.

"Geralt has the right of it. Look." He whispered, pointing out the stairway across the room. "We didn't hear any other voices before. If we can make it down there I think we'll catch the big bald one alone." His hand audibly tightened around the knife in his hand as he spoke. "Geralt's nail was able to go right into that fish monsters hide. We can beat him, quickly and quietly."

"Wait until the guy working on the fish starts working again. If we keep to under things and move when the food sorcerers are busy transforming scraps, all we should have to worry about is the teacups."

---

---

---

---

Linkle smiled a satisfied smile as she tossed the boy his purse back. "Like my Grandma used to say, 'You don't learn how dangerous a cucco is until you've kicked one.'" Unfortunately, though the cat gang had been successfully subdued none offered a way down except the obvious. Going down was faster and easier than climbing up though, and along the way they collected themselves a hefty bounty of pons. Linkle even managed to beat Albedo to the bottom this time by taking a few daredevil drops that weren't nearly as hard on her as being pile driven into an ice sheet.

When they were both finally down and stepping out into the cool air Albedo suggested that she ride back and by a couple more badges with their earnings. She was going to argue that they could just pick them up on the way back, but when Albedo mentioned he wanted to sketch the village anyway she reconsidered it. "All right." She shouted behind her as she ran off toward the rope, whipping out her chain and zooming on up back to goat village.

It was lucky for both of them that there was clear line of sight between the blue flagpole and the badge seller, or else Albedo might have had enough time to paint a mural of the village.

Linkle returned a short while later, two shiny new badges pinned to her belt. The first was the stylish and purportedly bombastic Kombat Badge. She had no idea what it actually sounded like, but if it was as loud as advertised she knew just the person it belong with. She had no idea it even matched his naming scheme.

The other was...

"Hey Albedo!" She said, bounding up to him as she put the finishing touch on his sketch. "Check this out." She stood next to him and reached down to her belt to hold a thumb on the other badge. In a flash of light a floating, light blue camera flew out and hung in the air in front of them. "Smile!" She said, pressing down on the badge again. There was a quick click, then a few moments later the slot on the front dispensed a picture of the two of them. She snatched it out of the air as it flutter down and showed it off to him. "It's a magic Pictograph." She said, handing him the picture before digging into her sack and producing a few more photos that she showed proudly. There was one of her and the Badge Seller, one of her throwing's up peace signs with a pair of the villagers flanking her, one of her with a rather disinterested Goat caught walking halfway out of frame, then another that was the goat by itself. Still others were just pictures of the nearby homes, scenery, and a few random shots of the sky or half a villager with the subject just barely in frame. "You got me thinking just now... I know we move pretty fast. You keep finding things that you like along the way, but then we have to move along before you have a chance to really check them out because we're on my quest. So, I figured, whenever you find something you think is cool just say it out loud. Go 'Linkle, pic!' and I'll pic it! Then you can study it whenever you want."

With that she put away the handful of photos, not bothering to take back the one she had given the Alchemist, before holding the badge again to put the camera away. With that they were on their way once again, descending along the rope line down, down, down, below the clouds.

It wasn't long before Linkle had reason to use her new toy again, as vibrant color rose up out of the whiteness to meet them. She practically bounced on the grass as she landed and gawked at the natural beauty around her. The camera was out presently, spun in a few different direction and snapping indiscriminate pics. There was no need to be choosy when every direction was beautiful. "Reds a very powerful color. No wonder a goddess lives here. If I were a goddess I would."

She was so taken in that she didn't notice that they had landed in someone's front yard until they drew attention to themselves with a friendly greeting. A small furry man living in an enchanted forest in a small hut that almost blended in for the vegetation covering it. This was the thing fairy tales were made of.

She squatted down to speak to him at eye level. "Nice to meet you. I'm Linkle. This is Albedo." She figured this man must be a helpful sort from the way he spoke and how he wasn't all that surprised by people landing so close to his house. She hoped the cats hadn't been taking advantage of him. "We're here seeking the aid of the Goddess Freya. Do you know where she's living around here or the best way through the forest?"

Where was she? Where was she, where was she, where was she? Went Midna’s thoughts as she strained to try and detect Ciella in the swirling sand her (now departed) Vibrava had helped her fan out, only for the woman to announce herself high above where she’d been expecting her to go there!- wait fu- the princess’ thoughts and lined up vending machine throw where interrupted as Ciella blasted a massive, fast and basically undodgeable arrow spray that lanced through, well everything.

Including her.

Midna screamed with fury and pain as her partially healed body was once again hammered by the siren’s incredibly powerful magics which ripped through basically everyone and, worse, the arena itself, parts of which started teetering and tumbling into Ciella all encompassing vail.

Once it passed the princess hauled her once again practically broken body off of the ground with sheer magic and willpower and found that what she had been trying to prevent had come to pass. Ciella, through incompetence, callousness or malice, had torn through the remaining fighters, wounding ‘friend’ and foe alike and, worse, murdering the knocked out teenager in cold blood.

”nonono goddesses no!” she swore at seeing the girl’s spirit amidst the useless sand she’d failed to use to prevent her death. There wasn't time for grief or self loathing however. Everything was falling apart, and there were still intact bodies on the floor who were at risk of falling, Mao’s now among them.

In the distance, the unstoppable Shadow (who she knew had killed Sven but not why due to having her eyes shut while trying and failing to stop Ciella) and Ciella were the only two remaining threats, both wreaking havoc on either side and basically unstoppable in their onslaught/defensive void.

Three things to deal with then.

Well, four. She also did not want to die, and trying to confront anyone in her ruined state was bound to cause that.

So, with weak and bleeding arms, she pointed towards the two powerhouses, and sent the here so far worthless sand wrathfully screaming over the heads of the Thieves and towards the two titans of the arena. There the racing sand stream split in twain, one racing for Shadow as he emerged from his black-hole cocoon, and the other for Ciella, wrapping them both in their own personal densely swirling sand-tomb that would follow them wherever they went. This could probably prevent Shadow from teleporting away with his boss in tow if Ciella was taken out, and would definitely make hitting targets harder for both of them as the swirling sand obscured their vision and its mass of coarse grains lashed at their senses.


Rather than go to try and pick any direct flights in her weakened state (not only caused by the crippling her physical form, but also from her lack of aggression had resulting in the dragon dance boosted power fading away), after dropping her strength-less arms to her side the princess instead floated around the arena, using a large shadowhand to collect the bodies of the fallen, attempting to prevent them (and if she had too/could, anyone else) from plummeting into the void due to the ongoing structural collapse.

She also tried to prevent them from getting caught in more AOE by moving them, and herself, away from the remaining threats. If danger still came their way, then they were all getting hurled/a giant wolf ride away while she acted as a distraction. But hopefully the two remaining threats had their hands full at the moment.

Doing all this would also create a central medical emergency spot if a certain thief was able to be spared to help her and Mao out.

“Well, at least you found a hobby to entertain yerself with.”

In a corner of Al Mamoon that embodied all three Ds - dusty, dark, and dank - a young boy with a big head stood in a small square room tucked behind a secluded alley in one of the busier market districts, really just a storeroom nobody’s used in a while. Razputin Aquato, semi-famed junior Psychonaut and trained mental explorer, had been given the place as a joint bedroom/Headquarters by the Grimleal. Well, ok, he got it as a bedroom, but Raz decided to convert it into a base of operations shortly after realizing that his actual duties were going nowhere fast.

“This is serious, Agent Cruller!” At the moment, Raz was mulling over one of the room’s walls, covered in crude doodles and criss-crossing lines, a framework of theories and connections penned personally by Raz himself, each small section representing a part in the grander scheme - the Grimleal, Validar, a little crude version of Raz with big question marks in his head, etc. “I’ve been here for days and haven’t gotten any closer to figuring out what’s going on. This could be a psi-mergency, and nobody will listen to me!”

“Don’t you think I know that by now?” Instead of just talking to himself, Raz was in conversation with the voice inside his head. Literally. The wide, lopsided head of Ford Cruller stuck out from the side of Raz’s noggin, like a weird mushroom growing out of his ear. “I’ve been trying to contact Sasha and Milla, but they aren’t answerin’. I’ll keep tryin’ from my end, but in the meantime you need to keep your cool out here. You’re our point man on this, Raz, and we can’t have ya give in to your paranoia!”

Raz sighed, stowing his bit of chalk into his bag. “I know, I know. I’ll report back to you later today, Ford.” With a sound of a cork being pulled from a bottle, Ford’s head shrunk back down into Raz’s ear, knocking the boy off balance for just a moment. He turned back to his Conspiracy Wall, looking it over for the fiftieth time this week, in case there was still something he was missing…

A loud, insistent knocking shattered his focus. The sound itself was a curious one, since who in the world might be paying Raz a visit at this place? When the boy hurried to open the door, however, he found the less-than-delightful visage of a robed Grimleal acolyte waiting for him. That meant it could only be official business--potentially the first real official business to confront Raz since his appointment. That ceremony, such that it was, still stung a little; as exciting as the prospect of being in charge of a makeshift Psychonaut-esque organization of his very own made him, it was hard to see the whole thing as anything more than a publicity hunt. And this guy Chalard certainly didn’t look too happy to be involved with it. A look of irritation already set the old man’s wrinkles in a dour way, making it fairly clear that he saw the whole ordeal as more of a bother than a worthy cause.

“Looks like it’s your lucky day, kid,” the acolyte gruffed. “A whole troop of Resistance fighters just got dumped in the cell block at the Palace. I figured we were gonna torch ‘em, but there’s been some mumblin’ about ‘em bein’ brashwashed, so Lord Validar ‘imself said we oughta bring you in for sicko-analysis.”

“It’s psycho-analysis,” Raz said, meeting Chalard’s annoyance in kind. Tensions aside… “Brainwashing? Actual, real brainwashing?” Raz couldn’t help but get excited at the prospect. Psychics would only ever dream of encountering it, the act of not just suggestion or hypnosis, but a full rewiring of the mind. If Raz could find the cause of it and how it affected the mental realm, he could become a legend!

“This is what it might’ve all been leading to!” Without a further thought given to Chalard, Raz pushed past him, rushing off through the city towards Validar’s palace.

A good hour later, however, his enthusiasm had dampened. After all the questions had been asked and the attempts had been made, Raz was looking very defeated, a look that was way too common for him lately. Five prisoners, four valid candidates to project into, and yet again an utter failure to do so. He bent over to pick up his Psycho-Portal from where it landed on the floor and looked up to the last of the bunch, a man named Baz.

“Thanks for your help, at least,” Raz said.

Arms crossed, the churlish wrestler gave a shrug. “I still don’t really know what you were up to, and I sure as hell didn’t do much, but sure thing! The great Baz never turns down praise!”

Beside him, Klee held tight to her stuffed companion, Dodoco. Young children and prisons did not mesh, and even though she had only former allies nearby plus her friendly Uncle Baz to watch out for her, the long-eared girl had been terribly fretful the whole time. “Oh Jean, Jean, where are you?” she cried. “This place is so scary. Its way worse than when she grounds me...I promise I’ll never blow up any more fish! Just let me out, please!” The child tugged on Baz’s arm.

“Easy, kiddo,” the wrestler told her, patting her head. “I can’t get us out. Not with a whole lotta hullabaloo we don’t need. Right now we just gotta keep it together, okay?”

But Klee, still sniffling, could only give a halfhearted nod.

Raz looked between Baz and his younger companion, only a bit shorter than himself, and gave her a concerned smile. “Hey, don’t be too scared, alright? I’m actually pretty, uhh, close, to the people in charge around here. I’m sure I can put in a good word for the both of you so you won’t be stuck in here.”

Though his expression remained as inscrutable as ever behind his mask, Daemon’s stress could be heard in his voice the next cell over. “This is a goddamn mess. A real nightmare. I remember Nastasia hypnotizing me...and everything I did under her control. I’ve done some stuff I’m not proud of, but this crap takes the cake..”

“Goddamn mess…” Klee repeated, teary-eyed.

The bright white eyes beneath Baz’s mask went wide. “Hey, don’t say that-!”

Just then, however, Raz and the prisoners became aware of voices and footsteps from outside the cell block, and only a few moments later the doors flew open, flooding the dark and dingy interior with afternoon sunlight. After a couple Grimleal forerunners came through, two huge silhouettes moved inside, resolving into two absolute titans of men that a few of those recognized either from the warehouse raid or various scraps throughout the city. Goldlewis Dickinson cut an imposing figure, his unique blend of professional attire and southern charm the epitome of style and strength combined. Still, Big Band stood even taller and heavier, a trench-coated detective augmented with enough brass to supply an entire orchestra. Band kept a taciturn silence while Goldlewis raised a hand in greeting. “Howdy. Looks like we found more o’ yer friends.”

The two parted, revealed a procession of cuffed Resistance prisoners. The ominously-dressed Robin and tired-looking Tharja led them, with an unfettered fairy trundling along beside them. After that followed what remained of their former subordinates: the masked Witch Doctor, the enormous ninja Earthquake, and Daisy Fitzroy. Around them various Grimleal acolytes swarmed, weapons at the ready to make sure nothing went amiss. It made for quite the spectacle.

Raz was quick to reach them, practically running up to Goldlewis and Big Band leading the group in. “More Resistance members?” He asked, looking at the procession with squinted eyes, sizing them up for possible mental faculties.Then he looked back up to Goldlewis.

“Are you working for Validar, too? I’ve really been trying to get him to take me seriously. There’s something very wrong around here and I think it might be related to this string of…” He leaned in close, about as close as he could with the difference in size between them, and whispered, “brainwashing.”

The Secretary of Absolute Defense rubbed his head, thinking. “Well, I ain’t exactly workin’ for him. More like I’m a mercenary tryin’ to keep the peace. Help folks out. And yeah, we’ve got a pretty good idea ‘bout what’s goin’ on.” Through touch Goldlewis realized that his pompadour was mussed. “Aw, hell.” With a heave he set his enormous coffin upright and rapped on its lid. With a creak it slid open, revealing a nebulous, spacy haze within. From inside a long, spindly arm of similarly cosmic, gelatinous composition emerged with an ordinary mirror in hand, holding the object so that Goldlewis could see his reflection and get about fixing his hairdo with a handy comb.

Big Band, however, remained focused on the task at hand. “Uh huh, we’ve more or less got the scoop. The Resistance’s boss was the one jackin’ brains. Hypnotized a whole buncha people, then sent ‘em ‘round causin’ no end of trouble.” With a tiny mechanical arm he adjusted his hat, ready for the kicker. “But everyone here’s already cured. We freed ‘em before waltzin’ ‘em back.”

With each word Big Band said, Raz grew visibly more excited. Brain jacking? Hypnotism? Trouble? Things were finally getting up his alley! But then the kicker came, and he just as visibly deflated. “You did, did you?” He asked dejectedly, looking up at the new prisoners. “I’m… glad. Everyone’s back to normal now.”

Instead of letting him pity himself, Raz shook his head and glanced between Big Band and Goldlewis. “But you didn’t fix the actual problem, right? I’ve been here all day trying to get into people’s minds and it still isn’t working. It’s like something is, is blocking my access. Like a mass psychic manipulation in the city, or or, a whole other layer of brainwashing! Maybe that’s it!” He spun around to address the two mercenaries again. “Don’t you see? Something’s messing with people’s minds around here, and it might be related to this brainwashing. Everyone else could still be in danger!”

“He's right," came another voice directly ahead of an image to attach it to. “...Mostly." In marched Fox, brushing past a pair (or two) of anxious acolytes on guard, carrying himself with seamless, casual poise that came expressly with experience, interjecting at the latter end of the discussion he had overheard. This made a first for him encountering anyone who could remotely intuit their own condition, as well as that of everyone else, and he could all but safely infer through conversation as to how they managed. Yet another child psychic. He couldn’t even pretend to be surprised at this point. What mattered in this case was if the Grimleal took their apparent consultant seriously, and if they could get their theories and stories to line up. First came measuring him on his level of understanding, even if the grey-washed colors and ruby glow in his eyes belied any at all, for he was clearly different in this regard somehow. “How much do you know?"

It was pretty apparent just how seriously the kid’s concerns were taken when he all but lit up when a complete stranger told him he was right. Raz went into it immediately, very animated as he explained.

“Okay, so, as far as I’ve gotten down into this conspiracy,” he began, definitely calling it a ‘conspiracy’ because it sounded cool, “there’s something suppressing the mental impulses of everyone in this city. See, I have this device -” He pulled out his Psycho-Portal from his back, holding it up for them all to see. “It’s called a Psycho-Portal, and normally it’s supposed to let me project into people’s minds. But, well… I’ll just show you.”

With a quick 180 turn, Raz hurled his Psycho-Portal through the air. It spun as it sailed towards Baz, where, once reaching him, the door smacked him right on the forehead… and fell to the floor. Fox briefly regarded the awkward display with a faint expression of bewilderment, but was otherwise content to quickly dismiss it, where most might have begun to suspect the child of lunacy.

Raz looked back to Fox, pointing a thumb towards the demonstration. “It, uh, isn’t supposed to do that,” he clarified. “As far as I can tell there’s something that’s blocking the Portal from working, and I think it’s affecting me, too. Like a, a psychically enhanced wavelength, or- oh, subliminal messaging!”

“I know what it is,” Fox began with a terse, straightforward reply, “And it doesn’t want anyone under its influence knowing, which makes just about everyone else in the world.” Besides offhandedly raising the scale of the junior psychic’s theory, there was precious little more he could give him in the way of a straight answer that he would believe, for he, too, was among the influenced. Such was the nature of their internal rewriting by Galeem. He was half certain he could take them outside and point to the Lord of Light itself, and even the most rational of them would either somehow fail to see it, or mistake it for a second sun that never set.

That they thus far found only one apparent answer to this, and that it entailed practically beating it out of everyone they met one at a time, presented a number of obvious problems, not the least of which being that it would mean picking a fight with, as he put it, the rest of the world. Still, if they stood the chance of convincing anyone short of that, as he might have otherwise done to save everyone there some trouble, he would take it. Chances were that character was the deciding factor in that; a willingness within someone to exercise understanding, help out however they can, and do what they honestly feel is right even without knowing. Perhaps that was as good a filter as they were going to get. Though, it still didn’t solve the problem of how better to enlighten the young psychic on the matter…

“Oh, wow…” Raz was a mix of awe and apprehension. What he figured to be a fairly small-scale thing, at least compared to the whole rest of the world, turned out to involve… well, the whole rest of the world. For any normal ten year old, having to contend with a problem of that magnitude would make them pee their pants, but the prospect seemed only to spur Raz even further. He straightened his back as he addressed Fox.

“I might not know what exactly we’ll be facing here, but I’ll have you know that I, Razputin Aquato, will do whatever it takes to fend it off. If you’ll let me, of course. Please? Pretty please?”

Admittedly, he hadn’t expected that they might pick up another potential new recruit while they were there--certainly not one so enthusiastic as to volunteer. It was only two days ago that he was having to talk anyone into it, and the current day in which further complications (as if they needed any more) forced him into a longer walk to accomplish the same, which he was still working on. Truth was, it wasn't a matter of letting Razputin do anything. It was just as much his problem to share with the entire World, and he would sooner or later have to deal with it anyway, whether he wanted to or not.

“Guess you’ll find out soon enough.” Though he betrayed little sign of apparent enthusiasm about the young prospect, Fox couldn’t help but admire his gumption, and could think of more reasons to accept than deny him either way. Raz was unlikely used to such reception, but could consider Fox’s answer as a tacit welcome aboard. Next came finding out how he could be of immediate help to them.

“So, what do we do with them?” he asked his cohorts, Band, Goldlewis, and now Razputin, even making eye contact with Robin for a second to let him in on the pressing matter of the prisoners’ fates. It was less of a question of what he wanted to do, for nothing had changed there. He wanted them out and on their side--those they could manage--and expected that much was understood within his allied circle about his intentions. For lack of immediate direction or ideas less reckless than spontaneously inciting an actual rebellion, he wanted to feel his teammates out for ideas. “What’s next?”

Having concluded a quick debrief of a few Resistance members before they got closed in their cells, Big Band stomped over just in time to hear the boy’s question. “Right now, we wait. There’s one more chapter before we close the book on the Resistance, probably in the evenin’. Robin ain’t the boss and she wasn’t at that temple, so unless she skipped town she’s at the third hideout, Rocket Incorporated. Guessin’ things’re a li’l tougher over there. Hopefully their backups finds ‘em safe and sound.”

He paused a moment to check Goldlewis arguing with Azwel before looking through the cell block at all the prisoners. No matter how he tried, Band couldn’t shake a feeling of dread. “Once the rest roll up, that’ll be the whole dang Resistance, done and dusted.” He gave a wry chuckle. “What a difference a day made. Considerin’ what they’ve been up to that means better days ahead for Al Mamoon, but they weren’t doin’ it ‘cause they wanted to. The fault lies with the boss, but should the folks who actually did the killin’ and stealin’ get off scot-free?” With a brassy sigh he shrugged his massive shoulders. “I dunno. But it looks like these Grimleal fools just wanna ice ‘em all, no questions asked. Even precious li’l Klee, a kid you’re probably twice the age of,” he told Raz. “That ain’t gonna fly. The others feel the same. So when we’re all here at last we might have some tough choices to make.”

“They’re gonna…” Raz let the question hang, looking back towards the prisoners both old and new, taking particular notice of the scared little Klee still clinging to Baz. “They can’t do that! Everyone here was brainwashed, not able to act with their own free will! I knew the people in charge here were shady but I never expected them to be that bad.” Already in over his head, Raz made his way back towards the wrestler/pyro pair to retrieve his portal once more. While he was there, he gave Klee another look.

“Don’t you worry, I’ll keep my promise. You and your friend’ll be out of here soon enough.” Having hopefully eased the girl’s worries, Raz returned to the group, and gave Big Band a determined look. “It won’t be a tough choice for me, sir. We can’t let anything happen to these prisoners. They’re as much victims as the people they may have hurt. Even if that means going up against the ones on top.”

Raz let himself feel a little proud in the moment. As dire as the circumstances were and despite not being capable of understanding the scope, he knew that there were people who needed help that couldn’t help themselves. He might not be able to do the most he could for them right now, but he’d do all he can to make things right.

That’s what a Psychonaut does.

---

The Ace Cadet slipped into the next room after Nadia and Kamek - almost literally, but seeing Nadia go down right in front of him gave the monster hunter some forewarning about the condition of the floor. Pressing a hand against the wall for balance (and giving it the same suspicious glances he'd been giving his limbs for the past few minutes), the Cadet slowly made his way further down the room's perimeter. Unsurprisingly it was another section of the huge kitchen area the Maw housed, a washing station. He eyed the various occupants in the room, more creepy-looking humanoids, koopas, and some sentient silverware - all so engrossed in their tasks that even the ones that did look at the little intruders ignored them in favor of going back to trying to make a dent in the mountains of dishes. At least they wouldn't have to sneak through the room. Though getting through it might be a bit difficult given the soapy water all over the floor.

It didn't seem to be an issue for the front runners though, as Nadia slid over the ground with her fan and Kamek used his shell to swiftly traverse the - oh, wait, he was coming back. He watched Kamek slide right back out the door, and from it the voices of the other koopas in their party. So they'd be coming through soon. Well, time to start making some headway!

Inching through while trying not to slip would be painfully slow. Instead, the Cadet braced his legs and then shoved himself away from the wall towards one of the washing stations. He slid across the floor almost like it was ice, with his arms thrown out to each side to keep himself on his feet. He slowed to a stop underneath one of the free standing sinks, and crept his way towards the sink's legs to latch onto.

"Not so bad," he said to himself, "like dealing with a Mizutsune." Except that the imminent danger was not a leviathan but several strange workers, though it still didn't seem like they cared much at the moment.

The Cadet's movement was still slower than Ms. Fortune's, so by the time he'd made it to the other side she was already up on the conveyor and out through the dish slot.

"Hey, Nadia, what's on the other side?" He tried to speak into the slot, once again balancing on the wall and standing on his toes. She didn't answer, but there also wasn't any other kind of commotion that would indicate she'd been caught. She must have continued moving on. Without a nifty boost he wouldn't be following her through the slot, though he doubted he'd be able to fit through in the first place.

The Cadet reached up to the nearby door handle, stretching his arm out for it, but it was just out of his reach. One of his feet slipped and he stumbled around dramatically until he managed to right himself. Maybe he could drag over one of those rubbery mats or something...

Once Bowser and company came through the door into the room and start shouting the Cadet looked around at those he was addressing - and those he wasn't. If this actually worked it would be awesome, but if it didn't then he'd just have to find a way to open the door up quickly. While the gleaming dish washers' attention was focused on the koopa king, the Cadet got a head start in seeking something to help him get up to the door's handle and open it. Something like... oh, one of those planks of wood might work - at least to stop the slipping!

Alright, let's go! Ace Cadet slid himself toward one of the unoccupied planks. It was heavier than expected, but he was stronger than the average... whatever-year-old he was now. Pushing the wood was slow going but it was possible! He shoved the plank against the wall, and once it sat solidly on the floor he stepped onto it. Perfect! Even slightly damp the wood wasn't slippery at all. With a little more effort the Cadet reached up to the door knob and turned it, popping the door open.

"Yes!" He pushed through the opening and arrived in a carpeted area, with the sounds of plates clattering and open mouthed slurping not far off. Before venturing on the Cadet and reached back through the door, grasping the wooden plank and propping it just inside the door frame to hold the passage open. He peeked back at the koopa troop, waving at them and mouthing this way! before going on. He followed the noise to a restaurant, filled with food and ravenous diners. Since his disturbing vision the Cadet had no desire to eat or drink anything else in Maw, but even if he had he doubted he'd have been able to swipe anything off that table. Food was gone in seconds, devoured by the restaurant's patrons. He didn't watch the buffet for long, there was a much more important task at hand. There had to be a way into the room the chefs had locked themselves into. He spotted the swishing tail of Nadia still ahead and darted after her, hoping she had a plan - she certainly looked like she did anyway.

Sectonia's plan did work, a bit too well. She wasn't really expecting for shadow to be so much stronger than his allies. Blows that hurt Sectonia but she could withstand them, these ones though... It was a bit of a concern. Seeing her trick though, Shadow made another attempt to ram into the bee queen with his spiky body, although without the energy which allowed him to aim and hit her. This didn't hurt nearly as badly as the other one would've though, and Shadow only got one attack off before he was sent away and was dealing with Ciella, who had gone berserk at this point. Ciella arrow spray didn't hurt Sectonia as much as it did a few of her other allies, and her going berserk wasn't going to do well for anyone. Although while she kept Shadow distracted, now would be a good time to leave as they had decimated the resistance and all that was left now was Shadow and the ringmaster, which Ciella seemed to be handling fairly alright. (At least until she got hit by Shadow, but that was something for later.)

And with all the attacks from the two starting to destabalize the arena they found themselves in, with a few select minions being quite injured, Sectonia flew over and scooped up Midna and Mao, although as the latter was new and still 'Gleemed' she was a bit more hesitant about this one. "Right, best to get you minions out of here before you become one with the abyss." Sectonia said, helping out her two injured allies.

Shadow and Ciella, all too eager to tear into one another, launched into an all-out bout without delay. Throughout the northern half of the arena the duel between harpy and hedgehog, a cat-and-mouse chase in constant motion, made for quite the spectacle. It took the Agito only seconds to get a grasp on her opponent’s strategy, but stopping it was an altogether different beast. Again and again Shadow launched himself in a homing Spin Attack, quickly closing the distance on Ciella no matter how she dodged and easily evading her arrows. Well before he entered the range of her conjured wing-arms, however, he and Nastasia vanished into a vortex of distorted space, becoming an untargetable crumplezone of brutal damage to chew through anything in his way. Even a glancing blow from the mobile anomaly shredded skin and feathers, spraying blood into the air to shower down on the sand below.

Yet even in the midst of her mad fury, Ciella still possessed her cunning streak. A well-timed burst of speed right before the Chaos Burst hit her would bear her to safety, allowing her to charge an arrow or summon an ice boulder to try and hit Shadow as he emerged. After taking one too many such opportunistic strikes (which is to say, one) Shadow began warping and throwing Chaos Lances after re-appearing. Though Ciella possessed impressive firepower of her own and did not mind a shootout, Shadow’s efforts kept her on her toes. “Grr!” the Agito growled, wiping blood from her lip after a lance’s explosion scarred her face.

“What’s the matter?” Shadow taunted. “Having trouble with my strategy?”

“Your ‘strategy’ is as brainless as it is repetitive! Cease this insipid flailing and fight me,” Ciella threw back.”

Shadow smirked. “You’re calling me a spammer? Well, if it’s so cheap and easy, why can’t you do anything about it?”

Trading such barbs every so often, their fight raged on. Their single-minded focus on one another at the very least gave the victims of Ciella’s devastation time to regroup and rearm themselves. A little too eager to return to and end the battle, the Phantom Thieves paused at the edge of the destroyed section of colosseum floor. Looking back, their team seemed to be in pretty bad shape. Most of them needed healing before they could fight again, and not the gradual, piecemeal regeneration offered by Sectonia’s items, either. If the Thieves rejoined the fight right now, they realized they would be alone. Mona and Fox turned to their leader. “What’s the plan, Joker?” the feline asked.

The young man had already decided. “This is too serious for us to go it alone and leave them high and dry. If that lunatic does another wave attack, our allies might be done for. We’ll help ‘em out.”

Together the three headed back to the others. Mao lay front and center, seemingly on his last legs, and Mona hurried to heal him. “Joker, all the way?” When his leader nodded, Mona understood his task and called upon his Persona. Zorro manifested in a burst of azure flame, his dancing blade whipping up a restorative Diarahan. Unlike Diarama, this spell offered a full heal, but it consumed so much mana that Mona would be completely unable to participate in the fight itself. In just a few casts he’d go from a refreshed reinforcement to even more drained than his friends. Nevertheless, he moved between his fallen allies, casting one Diarahan after another. Gunnar and even Fuse, brought to near death right after his friend hearting by Ciella’s Veil Piercer, were quickly brought back to full. “You newbies better make the most of this!” he told them, having assumed by gleam-free eyes that Fuse was a newfound ally just like the Dragonborn.

Mona paused when he came to Jesse. The redhead seemed only lightly hurt, thanks to her barrier, but she was in intense conversation with the remains of Sven. “Oh right, that might work!” he murmured, watching as the spirit resonated with Jesse’s words. It reached out with threads of prismatic light, binding itself to her, and in the span of a few short moments a new Striker had been recruited.



For the moment, however, Mona couldn’t reach Midna. He’d assumed she would avoid Ciella’s onslaught by hiding in the shadows, but even with terrible injuries the imp was determined to make a difference. She gathered up her magic to hurl her shifting sands across the battlefield. In just a few moments a screen of sand gathered around both Ciella and Shadow, buffeting them with minor but constant damage over time and obscuring their vision. As incredibly annoying as it was, the Agito knew that to ignore Shadow for the sake of her indignation would invite destruction, and tried to focus on her enemy. There was just one problem--she couldn’t tell where he was. Suddenly on edge, Ciella whirled around in an effort to spot him, but her enormous wings and feathered hair made it difficult enough to see even without the sand. It quickly dawned on the Agito that it was taking her too long. She was going to get hit.

With all her might she twisted herself around a full one hundred and eighty degrees, spinning just in time to witness the sand-wreathed locus of distorted space bearing down on her from above and behind. Her intuition had been correct; Shadow’s pattern of attacking from behind whenever possible held. But it was too late to dodge now. She clenched her teeth and braced for impact, bringing her legs and arms together into an almost fetal blocking position, manifesting a Karmic Shield, and the next second Shadow made contact.

“KYAAAAAAH!” Ciella shrieked, feathers and blood flying as the Chaos Burst ground like a spatial blender. Thanks to the Karmic Shield’s reduced damage and her general toughness, however, the Agito persisted where Sven succumbed. Shadow pushed harder, digging deeper, and Ciella’s life drained away like water through a sieve. As she fought desperately to withstand Shadow’s brutality, Ciella brought her Siren arms around, their ethereal hands closing in on the distorted space itself. It was a terrible agony, as the harpy’s screams attested, but against all odds she endured. One hope kept her going: that no matter how bad it got, she needed to hold out only one second more. Just one...more...second…!

Shadow’s Chaos Burst ended, and the hedgehog disappeared from distorted space. Instantly he launched himself forward in an Air Shoes-propelled kick, smashing Ciella right in the eye, but then her hands closed around him. “Grah!” Five great arms of enchanted water snapped shut around his limbs and head, with the last yanking Nastasia off to squeeze her like a stress ball. “I am...the wings!” With a final pump of her wings Ciella rose higher, then fell backward. With her enemies in her clutches she hurtled downward in a deadly spiral. “Of DESPAIR!”

From within the Agito’s grasp howled a desperate, pleading cry. “BLEEEEEEEECK!”

Then the three smashed into the ground in a typhonic explosion of water. The whole arena shook beneath the impact, swaying wildly, and sand poured through the holes in the floor as the runoff washed most of the colosseum clean. Thanks to Midna’s efforts, Mordecai and Reinhardt had been retrieved and brought to safety in the lower part of the arena along with Braum. Shayne and Orendi’s spirits, caught up in the flow, drifted almost to the edge but did not descend. When the maelstrom died down it revealed Ciella back in her sylvan form, her arms and face very badly injured. All around the arena her Feral Shroud, the barrier cutting off escape for anyone in the terrible skirmish, broke down.

It was hard for Joker to imagine anyone surviving that, but at this point, it barely even surprised him that Shadow remained.

The hedgehog was down on one knee, his Chaos Boost dispelled. In front of him lay Nastasia, unmoving. Necronomicon reported her findings from a quick scan. “Unbelievable. She’s still alive. Although, I think her neck’s broken…” The morbid realization caused the Persona to trail off for a moment. “I’m not detecting any unusual brainwaves from Shadow. But he’s still-!”

Joker didn’t need her to say it. Even from her he could still see Galeem’s influence burning sunset-red in the hedgehog’s eyes. The fight wasn’t over. Shadow floated up with a smug look and began summoning a Chaos Spear to finish Ciella off for good. “Alright, rabbit stew!”

He and Fox were already on the way, but they had a lot of ground to cover, even just to get close enough for a shot from Joker’s Leena. Any allies with greater speed or long-range attacks, be they magic or technological, would be able to take decisive action.



Nadia, taken aback by the sight of so many ghoulish, bloated restaurant patrons, scooted over to a crouched screen. Until she got her bearings she wanted diner and server alike to see neither hide nor hair of her. Naturally, just a moment after taking cover she did get spotted, but for once she was glad for some unexpected company. “Ace!” she beamed, just about hugging the boy. Instead she settled for bonking shoulders with him, just like on the docks before the day’s whirlwind adventures began. In the conga line of trials and tribulations since the Depths she’d lost sight of her new pal, never even getting the chance to check on him after his unsafe and unpleasant flight courtesy of Moreau. Since then she’d been mostly concerned with either dying of hunger or the chefs determined to make kids food in a different way, and she felt bad for instinctively looking out for number one again. But here he was, pretty okay all things considered, and with the Koopa Troop back in the sudsy washroom it was just Ace and Nadia against the world once more.

Having gotten a couple extra moments to view the stomach-turning scene ahead of them, Nadia shared what she’d seen. “They’re packed wall to wall, like sardines,” she told him, the deliciously salty, oily fishes still on her mind. She could feel the weight of the tin she’d snatched, but just as with the Cadet, witnessing the grisly feast evaporated her appetite. “Its dark under the tables but we might be able to sneak under, between the legs of the benches and stools. I don’t think we wanna go up top. Those things aren’t picky about what they eat.” In fact, the guests reached for whatever happened to slide or plop down into arm’s length, scarcely even looking at what they mindlessly shoved toward their gullets. They didn’t even seem to notice when morsels got caught on one another or slid back out of their mouths onto the table, and just tried to push it in once more. It was a slovenly, morbid, almost dispassionate act of excess, without taste, without need, without end. Nadia shivered. “Its like food is their whole existence. If this is the curse, I’m glad I stopped when I did.”

Sooner rather than later, however, she and the Cadet needed to confront the feast. Observing for a few moments rewarded the pair with a realization. The Volbonians who regularly replenished the Guests’ interminable meal could only come from and return to a single food source: the kitchen. All Nadia and Ace needed to do was follow them.

Nadia led the way, scampering over to the tables. She ducked out of the lantern-light and into the shadows beneath, only to find after a moment that her plan had a flaw. The guests, messy as they were gluttonous, had allowed an incredible amount of food to drop to the floor, and a few of the eaters had followed suit. Like slugs they pulled themselves around on their bellies, sucking up and slurping down everything in their paths. “No good,” Nadia hissed. With poor visibility and no room to move, the kids could just as easily get lost as cornered down there. Sighing, Nadia climbed up onto an empty stool, and onto the table itself.

The guests didn’t really react. Nadia doubted they even saw her. As long as she and Ace could stay out of the way of their stubby little arms, she figured they’d be okay. That just left what route to take. From here she could see the route the servers took across the tables, although she wondered if they brooked no response from the guests because they weren’t edible in their eyes. Either way, it gave her a pretty good idea, and once she saw a Volbonian head down some stairs she pointed a silent finger in the direction she and her friend ought to go. Then, they had nothing left but to get there.

Nadia walked quickly to avoid making too much noise, staying close to untouched food where possible in the hopes that it currently lay beyond the Guests’ reach. She didn’t think twice about climbing on top of the loaves, fishes, cutlets, and stacked dishes to get a leg up. The first time she got a little too close to a Guest and the horrid creature reached out to her with his grubby hand, wheezing and whimpering in desperate lust, she just about had a heart attack and fell off the table. A little help, however, would get her back on track. “Thank you,” she whispered emphatically, and pressed on.

Caution gave the two steady progress, but not quickly enough for Nadia’s liking. Not with lives on the line. Before long she couldn’t suppress the thoughts of her friends getting cooked and butchered any longer. To hell with safety. She needed to rescue Sakura and the others now. She clenched her teeth and changed tact, suddenly jumping off the lid of her stewpot onto a Guest’s back. The beast of habit, hunched over her meal, straightened up in surprise, grunting as she flailed her arms. Nadia jumped to the next one over, and though it reeled like a stepped-on seal when she landed the feral moved on long before she could fall off. Then an idea hit her. Once she landed on another diner she slid her claws into the flesh of its neck, and with a gurgling cry the guest bucked backward. Nadia allowed its momentum to send her flying, and while the Guest toppled to the ground she soared over an aisle to land with a roll between two more monsters. One reached for her, but she shoved a ham into its paw instead and squirmed away.

This was the last set of tables before the stairs. In front of her sat a row of hungry Guests shoulder to shoulder, and the eyes of the one dead ahead had already lit up with greed. With a moan he launched herself from his stool as best she could, clambering onto the table to pull himself toward Nadia. Taking initiative, the little thief grabbed hold of a wine bottle like a club and rushed forward to slam it right into the Guest’s face. Nadia jumped on as the diner blurted out an exclamation of pain and fell backward off the table, riding the Guest through his stool all the way down to the floor for a very cushioned landing. She bounced off and rolled to a stop at the head of the stairs, where she turned to look back for Ace.

After a moment, however, the fallen guest stirred. He flailed and kicked wildly, smacking the already bent stool out from beneath a neighbor, who then fell alongside him. With beady eyes on Nadia the two slugged across the wooden floor toward her, forcing her to run for the stairs. She sprinted down as the ravenous tide rolled after her, barely making it in time to avoid the Guests that then plowed into a waiter. Fresh sushi dishes littered the ground around them, seizing their attention, and Nadia moved on. She’s reached the first floor.



Though this area was a single large room compared to the many smaller rooms of the restaurant upstairs, its added vertical space would do little for Nadia, and plenty of Guests remained between her and the dumbwaiter on the far side. Her heart pounded in her chest from both the tension and the chase, but as long as she was with the Cadet, she could make it through. Probably.

---

After Nadia and Ace the dishwashers had assumed that whoever came in did not mean to bother them, and with a very important task at hand, they planned to return the favor. Bowser’s loud and unexpected announcement, however, startled them unexpectedly badly. All of them jumped, with one koopa so surprised that his plate flew from his hands. It shattered against the floor with a loud crash, sending him into a panic as his coworkers flinched. A storm of hissed, urgent warnings flew Bowser’s way.

“Quiet!”
“Shh!”
“Not so loud!”
“Shut up!”

Despite his proclamations the washers did not believe him to be their king, and right now they had other issues. Now that Bowser got a good look, he could see that many of these rather high-strung troopers bore scars across their faces and arms. In just a few moments he could get a sense that these koopas lived squarely under the thumb of the chefs, and for how long was anyone’s guess. Fidgety, furtive, and meek, they seemed to possess almost no will to fight, except maybe when it came to getting a potential troublemaker in line. The nearest one jumped down to menace Bowser with a half-scrubbed pan. “Are you trying to get us killed!? You know the chefs are looking for any excuse to make us into turtle soup! We’re already in hot water ‘cause of the plates!” He pushed the pan into Bowser’s arms along with a scrubber, then tossed a dishrag to Junior. “Here, hurry up and get to work before they come in here and see you kids goofing off!”

---

Seeing Sakura heartbroken brought Bella’s spirits almost as low. She felt like weeping herself, whether from empathy, the pain of hanging by a rope around her wrists, the smoke in her eyes, or all three. With plenty of distraction and difficulty seeing it was difficult to take stock of the situation and arrive at any conclusion other than ‘this is bad’. Being cut off from their friends and left dangling over a blazing cookfire, with a heaping portion of killer butchers on the loose, made for a pretty bleak situation. But was it really that much bleaker than the other ones? They’d already gotten past a headless shadow monster and a flooded factory full of aquatic abominations. Armed with this information, Bella staved off despair, reasoning that if she, Rika, and Sakura could just keep it together they could hold out until their rescue.

With that in mind she craned her head around to address Sakura. “Don’t blame yourself, mon cheri. It was just bad luck. Could have happened to any of us, oui?” Any more encouragement than that, however, would have to wait. Her young friend had noticed something else, a detail that slipped away from Bella in the relatively brief time since the cafeteria, but a big one nonetheless. “I am?” As best she could, the Water Princess looked herself over, then glanced at the other meals-to-be, trying to get a frame of reference. “Humm...I think you may be right. My limbs...un peu plus long.” Though she couldn’t see it, her leviathan tail had benefited the most from her growth, straining against the bonds that tied its throat against her wrists.

She spotted Mimi, but unless the pokemon could lift all three girls off their hooks and over the fire to safety without Larry noticing, the situation wasn’t much better. For the moment, all Bella could do was wait and think. Something Sakura said got her gears turning, and one detail in particular concerned her. “Actually, I ate quite a lot,” Bella corrected. “I wanted to..” she paused to cough, straining to get her head away from the smoke. “Agh...I wanted to see if zere were...any effects. For ze team, remember? My tail and I just dug right in.”

Sakura’s plan seemed solid initially, the team’s current inability to eat food notwithstanding, but for reasons Bella couldn’t quite articulate something bugged her about it. She spent a few moments in quiet but furious contemplation, trying to put it together, before she realized. “Hold on, it may not be zat simple. This curse...it turned back time, yes? Zat explains everyone’s clothes. But remember zose other kids? They did not want to eat, yes? Zey must have known it would make them big...big enough for ze Janitor zat chef mentioned to send zem to ze kitchen. Like agneaux to slaughter.” Another coughing fit wracked her less-little body. “Z-zey weren’t cursed like us. Maybe ze food does not turn forward time to undo curse, but instead stimulate ze body’s growth.”

Her brows furrowed as she tried to puzzle it out. After a moment her intense expression turned on Sakura. “Listen, you trained as a child, right?” She awaited confirmation. “Well...if I am not wrong, eating could ‘skip’ us through many years of our lives. It would be like you reached fourteen without having ever trained a day. Or...” Bella became more worried. “What if we missed ze mark? We might pass our ‘current’ ages. What would happen if ze curse is zen broken?” At this point, without a lot of concrete knowledge on how exactly the food worked, she was just spitballing, but even then she found no end to the alarming possibilities.

---

Though Mirage could not resist the cheesy temptation laid before him, the boys reached the main kitchen’s first floor unharmed. Once there, however, they discovered even more trouble than they bargained for. Even with the added firepower of a magic nail, a sharp kitchen knife, and a bottomless dart gun, this didn’t seem like a fight they could win. If this ‘King of Cuisine’ character held sway over not just the stretch-faced chef but Larry too, it was hard to imagine him as a weaker combatant. The sushi chef didn’t look too deadly -or even very imposing- but the tempura wizards’ use of actual magic tipped the scales. Stripped of all their equipment and powers and locked into weak, frail bodies by the pervasive curse of the Resentments, the Seekers already had little to work with. Being transmogrified into actual food was more than anyone could stomach.

Unable to vent their fury in a straight fight, the trio strategized beneath their cabinet, wary of attracting the ire of chefs, wizards, and coffee cups alike. In a succinct fashion they bandied around a couple ideas, including the use of a decoy, but they soon settled on the stealthy approach. With the numbers and the area knowledge that the kitchen staff possessed, there wasn’t much of a choice. Luckily for the marauding sneaks, this place featured an incredible amount of clutter. At any time a good half-dozen projects seemed to be in progress at once.

The sushi chef possessed an entire station in the southeast corner near the dumbwaiter, complete with hibachi grill, and he also seemed to be in charge of plating. With a fastidious eye for detail he arranged and deftly sliced each roll, adding a dash of actual artistry that it was hard to believe would be appreciated by either his coworkers or his clients. In the eyes of the intruders at least, he could be written off; his station stood in the opposite direction from the stairs, meaning a trip in that direction could be a sizable and risky detour

At the central chamber, the stretch-faced chef labored at the pot roast to which he’d been assigned. Sizzling over a fire pit in a massive, green-sided cauldron of a pot, the stew existed in a state of flux that demanded constant attention, both ladling out its contents into tureens for delivery and replenishing the ingredients. Moving as quickly as his ponderous, doughy physique would allow, the hideous butcher threw in chunks of tough meat to soften, peeled potatoes, chopped carrots, and scattered seasonings. The carrot heads and potato peels went to the Tempura Wizards along with anything else the chefs didn’t need, transformed into deep-fried food to be stacked in heaping bowls and served. All three remained more or less stationary, unlike Antoine. The gray-haired King of Cuisine scuttled around like a beetle, attending to various dishes. He moved unpredictably between the ovens, shelves, stovetops, and mixing bowls, always on the hunt for some ingredient or another, spending a few seconds at a time before hurrying on. He presented a wild card, but as long as the kids were observant, they could make do.

The counter they found themselves under in the kitchen’s northeast corner harbored a selection of spices, vegetables, and herbs, as best they could guess. It featured at least one chopping block, although the one on the upper middle cook station served Stretch-face well enough for his carrots and potatoes. It was there that the communal knife rack stood, as well. All that meant that the chefs didn’t come by the kids’ hidey hole that often. Going west would bring them to a set of dirty sinks, going under which meant navigating past the various pipes and drains only to arrive at the stovetops and prep space that Antoine most frequented. Four large ovens lay stacked facing east in the northwest corner, offering nothing but impediment. Next to them stood a trough full of various meats, heaped indiscriminately beneath a chute in the wall probably fed by the efforts of the butchers above. Then came a row of drawer counters with various well-used machines, including a sausage maker, a pressure cooker, a fryer, a blender, a toaster, and a couple mixers, all dingy metal and very much in the crude style of the Maw. The stairs began right below where the counter ended, while mostly cupboards existed beneath the staircase itself, going all the way to the southeast corner where Fujimoto bent to his painstaking task. The drawer knobs looked rather climbable.

The lower middle station, on the other side of the fire pit, was where the Tempura Wizards did most of their work. Using some sort of hexes, they kept a couple metal carts rolling in a counterclockwise circle around the kitchen, offering convenient transport of both ingredients and refuse, which they took for transformation when the carts rolled by. Overhead shelves and racks kept a smorgasbord of pots, pans, and tools all readily available above just about every counter and sink. Less than perfectly organized, the chefs appeared to have just left various things lying everywhere, too, used and reused. Hopefully the disarray was merely the byproduct of a dinnertime rush, but the kids could by no means be sure. Dangling chains and needlessly long sausage links, some seemingly hanging from the second floor railing, swung hypnotically in the Maw’s gentle heeling. It was a lot to take in, but it made for a lot of options.



For a few moments Albedo’s eyes lingered on Linkle as she used it to take a flurry of pictures of their surroundings. Without a single dull angle available to either of them, she really could just hold down the button and let her new badge work its magic. In his own world of Teyvat plenty of people shared her enthusiasm when it came to the newfangled devices known as Kameras, delighting in their ability to capture a forever memory in but an instant. Albedo himself never partook, instead finding greater fulfillment in the painstaking act of artistry to immortalize the creatures and landscapes that captured his interest, but she did have a point. This composite world offered an unprecedented amount of variety, a canvas splashed with the colors of countless different places in remarkable density. Even if he managed to make a drawing a day of the fascinating things he encountered, it would easily take a lifetime to depict everything. He did not have that kind of time. So when it came to Linkle snapping pictures as she frolicked among the wildflowers, or even up in the Alpine Skyline, he did not mind one bit. However cruel the World of Light’s origins, it would be a shame to pass its wonders by.

Able to admire the scarlet forest later, the duo managed to reign in their enthusiasm and focus on the gardener. After Linkle gave her and Albedo’s names he introduced himself in turn. “They call me Tuley.” He bent down to pull out a scraggly weed from between a few fresh buds, which he flicked into a bucket of other unwanted flora he’d pruned from his own little slice of paradise. “Freya…” he repeated, stroking his whiskers. “Sorry miss, I dunno anyone by that name. If anyone does though, it'd be the Witch o’ the Woods.”

“A witch?” Albedo prompted him, hoping for more information.

“Mm-hm,” Tuley confirmed. “She watches over the valley. Most kind-hearted lady there ever was. Treats birds ‘n beasts like her own children. Even cares about the plants. Not many folks do.”

The alchemist was already writing in his notebook. “She sounds like just the person to ask. Do you know where she is?”

At that, Tuley shook his bearded head. “‘Fraid I don’t. I don’t get out much, but I heard her house’s tucked away somewhere secret. Can’t find it if ya go lookin’. Maybe you’ll run into ‘er, though.”

One benefit of showing little emotion was not looking discourteously disappointed. “I see, thank you,” Albedo told him. He gave a stiff wave goodbye, then rose to head over to the river of grass and flowers flowing between the trees. It looked like he was already leaving, but in truth he only went out of Tuley’s hearing range for a little privacy, where he waited for Linkle. Her arrival prompted the delivery of his plan. “This valley is quite large, especially for one who does not wish to be found. If this witch is secretive but loves animals, we may be able to draw her out with one. The cries of deer, boar, and elk can carry great distances when distressed. Perhaps we could hunt one.” He considered Linkle’s own kind nature. “Or pretend to do so. A nonlethal wound would achieve the desired effect. Either way, the plan is predicated on your crossbow.” He scrutinized her expression, wondering what Linkle thought.

---

Mao, in his injured state, originally assumed a prepping of attack may have been needed in case of an approach from a rather big and threatening Braum. However, as he laid atop metal and uneven amounts of sand, an attack never came. A part of him was on edge, slowly lifting his head to look back and see if a shield was just waiting to crash down on his head, but instead he found Midna coming his way, looking like an absolute wreck. However, she still had the energy to come over and relocate him to a better position, which he wasn't about to object considering his own predicament. Before her arrival, he dispelled his magic before rolling over to grab his sword with his good arm, then allowing the princess to scoop him up for a rescue. Weren't princesses usually the ones needing to be rescued? That's at least what his hero studies taught him, though he could think of a Terrifying Princess who had always been more than capable of taking care of herself. Especially with an axe within reach...

There wasn't much time to talk, with Mao finding himself dumped into a more central area gathered with the rest of the injured. Plus, being quite injured, he just wanted to complain for the most part. Thankfully, that weird cat-thing that disappeared from the upper floors had came back, and with it came a rather potent healing ability via whatever summon it wielded. Mao was surprised just how fast his wounds disappeared, quick to pull himself up and stretch his fully functional limbs. He felt reborn, like an all new Overlord! Except, unlike some heroes he read about, being beaten to near death did in fact NOT give him any sort of power boost.

"Finally," he scoffed, not intended to be a insult towards Mona, as he had actually got to healing him pretty quick. Instead, his reasoning was much more clear as he brushed a hand across his torso. "All that burning and itching is gone." He seemed less annoyed by the bleeding, as really, what was a day where you didn't bleed, right? But the damage he'd sustained upstairs had still been pestering him until now, and the relief was a huge blessing. Enough that he'd even grace Mona with a slight amount of appreciation, unknowing of his name but the closest thing he could relate him to was a Grimalkin, so he rolled with it. "Thanks, cat-thing." The remark was plain, but considering most of what came out of Mao involved either dissecting or butchering people, it wasn't too bad.

To business, it wasn't hard to take note of Ciella and Shadow's battle. It was quite brutal, and though Ciella's last attack left Mao sure that Nastasia was dead, Necronomicon was quick to make it clear she was still kicking. Even if her neck was broken. If it was up to Mao, though considering their healed ranks it obviously wasn't, he'd insist on just letting them finish one-another off since things were so close to being over. Considering Ciella's attack had nearly killed him, Shadow executing her on the spot didn't seem so bad. That being said, with the spirits around, it was clear there had already been a few casualties, even with the Friend Hearts that Mao had been throwing around. But there was definitely a colorful bunch left to save. Nastasia was obvious, and Shadow had caused quite a lot of the pain Mao had been feeling from upstairs, even if his part was only making sure everyone would be easy targets. Then with Ciella...

The brainwashing was one thing, but Ciella's treachery was another. As Mao saw it, she decided to attack them out of nowhere. Her wide-scale assault bringing her to the situation she was in now, one of which Mao was not feeling inclined to save her from. Though, without Midna's help, it was quite possible he could've been washed into one of those pits and dropped into that seemingly endless abyss he tested. And her goal was to get as many people out as possible. Which, he wasn't sure how she felt on that in Ciella's case, considering she was proving to be on quite a violence streak. But they didn't have time for Q&A, so it seemed he'd have to take action after all.

Mao, reinvigorated and with Necronomicon's speed boost, took off towards the floating hedgehog. Mao was quite gimped in the ranged department, but knew there were those behind him that could attack from a distance. He'd stay out of their way, allow them to do their thing, and then capitalize on the result of the ranged fighters once he managed to get close. Noting that despite the fact Shadow was still up, he was probably pretty weakened, and mixed with whatever ranged attacks he was potentially going to be hit with, a sword attack could be a bit too much. So he sheathed his blade mid-run, deciding he'd just take the classic approach to dealing with any stuffed animal: Beating the stuffing out of it.

Mao planned his exact attack during his approach. A leap, get up to Shadow's height, and considering his bare hands... That red stripe atop his head made a good target. He'd wind up and drive a fist down there to crack down on Shadow's skull, and hopefully put an end to his fighting, especially now that Nastasia was down. He'd deal with Ciella after, but for the moment she seemed way worse off than Shadow, and he felt it unnecessary to prioritize her. Maybe smacking the hedgehog down would be enough for the crazed and extremely injured Agito to realize not everyone was trying to kill her.

Not that Mao thought putting faith in her was a good idea, he was mostly hoping she wouldn't try to capitalize as well by striking him in the side. Even in her state, with the power she unleashed so far, he felt like she could possibly damage him severely. Keeping her from lashing out somehow seemed optimal, especially if they were still going to try and keep her alive, but he'd have to worry about that after Shadow was taken out of the picture.

---

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@Potemking@MULTI_MEDIA_MAN

---

So they had decided on sneaking. Unfortunately, pure stealth could only get them so far. They picked their way around the chilly pipes beneath the sink, but all they came up with at the end was a wall and an ogre guarding it. The head chef might have pent most of his time moving between places to gather ingredients and micro-manage his underlings, but he frequently and unpredictable returned to this particular work station time and time again. It made a trip across the open floor they would have to take unappealing to say the least.

Link thought for a minute about how to get past when one of the carts rolled on by. He wondered if they could just hide behind that, but that idea was dashed when the Head Chef walked around it on his circuit about the kitchen and scooped up a long slab of meat. That plan wasn't as safe as he'd like, but he looked back at mirage as another idea entered his head.

"Mirage, do you think you could stick a dart to that things wheels as it comes around the corner?" He asked, pointing the kitchen cart as it rolled past, then back at the corner they had come from. He could imagine the thing trying to roll with the dart sticking longways out of its wheel, tilting up and over and spilling fresh food all over the floor as it crashed into the opposite corner from the stairs. Or just stopping because of the dart and having the other cart crash into it. Either way it would draw eyes, maybe even anger if the Head Chef was as hot headed as he seemed, and that would take eyes off the corner they were trying to get to. "Try to do it right after the big lumpy one takes something and we could have a fight on our hands."

He wondered what would happen if the chefs got steamed enough. Would one of them end up on the menu then?

"After it tips shoot three more darts under here so the first one disappears. Then we can make a break for the stairs."

---

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Linkle considered Albedo's idea. They were after a woods witch. Witches didn't show up too often in the legends she knew, but when they did they were usually helpful. If a little capricious sometimes.

Contrary to his expectations Linkle didn't show any obvious discomfort at Albedo's plan. To a certain part of her it made an awful lot of sense. After all, if she heard something going after her girls she was going to come running. At the same time, though, that was the problem.

"Mr. Tuley said the witch loves the animals around here like her own kids. I get how she feels. If something was hurting my Cucoo's, though, I wouldn't show up looking to talk. I'd be spoiling for a fight. I wouldn't consider listening to them until after I'd kicked their butts, and that's just me. She's a witch. She could cast a hex on us that turns us into animals or something." Linkle didn't believe there was anything that could stop her on her quest, but the sheer inconvenience of being cursed into animal form wasn't unheard of when it came to the hero. She could imagine herself as a little strawberry blond bunny hopping through the forest, trying to kick monsters to death as they searched for the magic mcguffin that could turn them back. Maybe an orb, or a flower.

She briefly considered what Albedo would be in this scenario (she was leaning toward dog) when she stumbled on an idea.

"Can't you see, you know, elements and stuff?" She asked. "Like how you saw I wasn't stuffed full of 'light' back at Grilby's. If we could just find the place that has the most 'nature' then that's probably where the witch lives. We could go up on a flower to get a better view, and if that's not high enough to see I have a way to let you jump way higher than normal."

If this didn't work or was impossible or something they always had the hunting plan to fall back on.

---

They were both right. Mirage lowered his guard somewhat, setting his kitchen tool-turned weapon onto the ground as it'd be a pain to haul in a sneaking situation. He'd been letting his anger cloud his judgement on an approach, and upon closer observation of the kitchen it became very obvious that being too rash wouldn't help them. Observing the workers outside of their hiding spot, he slowly nodded. "Right. Just have to find a path through where we won't get detected." Sneaking was necessary sometimes, back in the games. But there it was really difficult, considering the wide range of skills and abilities combatants tended to have. These guys just seemed like average chefs, so maybe giving them the slip would be possible. Though, with the sheer forces around, and their frantic movements, it still looked plenty difficult.

However, Link seemed to have a plan. Those circling carts? Mirage glanced between them and Link as the plan was explained to him, his brain as a marksman thinking about the shot. "I might, but not from this angle." The area beside them had some pipes dangling down, seeming to be a sink of sorts. The carts turned from their table and went down towards that direction, so if he wanted a good shot at the wheels he'd need to relocate that way. Adding onto their plan, he realized this commotion could get the attention of their guest upstairs, too. "We might not be able to use the actual stairs, in case baldy decides to come down." He pointed out, gesturing towards the hooks and honestly sorta-gross looking sausages. "With all the commotion though, we can climb up those? Shorter distance than the stairs, and it ain't like these guys are gonna be sliding down them." Crash and dash, the plan was pretty much set in his mind.

Giving an O.K hand gesture to the duo of Link and Geralt, Mirage startled to scamper off towards the sink. They didn't want the commotion right next to them, after all. "Keep ready to run; I'll crash that thing and get rid of the evidence, then book it after you guys."

He took a few test shots towards the wall beneath the sink, refamiliarizing with the speed of his projectiles. The carts weren't the fastest, but risking a miss didn't seem ideal. All that was left after that was to study the carts, and wait for an opportune time to shoot. Link thought he should wait until the lumpy guy ended up grabbing something off the cart, to frame the crash as his fault, Mirage figured. Devious, and the type of trickery he could get behind. He kept low, dart gun in both hands. His tongue slightly stuck out the side of his mouth, trying to keep focused as there was no telling when the chef would give them an opportunity. And if he missed it, then who knew how long it'd be until there was another one?

His part was clear. Fire a dart, hit the wheel, tip it over, then pop off enough darts out of view to make sure that the chefs couldn't identify foul play. Then all he had to do was catch up to the other guys, and they'd possibly be golden. He'd done quite a bit of running today, and he definitely wasn't fond of having to go through it again... But this time felt less dangerous than balancing on those poles, or jumping the catwalks. At least, as long as he didn't get caught.

”They don't remember, remember Sire” Kamek reminded the king when the koopa’s rejected his rallying cry out of hand, far too scared of the abusive chefs to do anything for these nobody kids.

Bowser grunted disappointingly, before shoving the proffered pan aside (jr doing much the same with his dish rag) and then told the koopa that ”Yeah no. See these horns? See these spikes? These mean I’m Roy-al-ty, so I ain't doing no scrubbing work ya hear. And you're scared of those chefs? Ha! Just one look at us sent em running!” he gloated, even if it had been one look at Blazermate rather than him that had sent them scampering.

”We’ve dealt with a giant fish monsters and a weird floaty hand cyclops jerk already, a bunch of humans, freaky as some of them might be, will be no trouble once we get our hands on em. The big cowards had to barricade themselves inside one of the kitchens to stop us getting them! But we will, oh we will.” Bowser insisted, entirely sure they could take the chefs in a stand up fight.

”Yeah, we will. But come on dad we gotta hurry before they try and make soup out of Sakura and the ship girls” Jr said, already moving towards the exit Ace and Nadia had taken, now even more concerned about how the lives of his friends, and Bella, where at stake.

”But we could use a guide to get us round to another entrance swiftly, rather than bumbling around any which way” Kamek pointed out, before tapping his chest above his heart covertly.

”Yeah. We could. here” The koopa reached up and laid a hand on the shoulder of the closest koopa, who was only a cm taller than him and told him ”let me remind you of who I am” before using his leverage on his shoulder to pull him closer byjusnt and inch and headbutt him square in the face, before slapping a friend heart into him with a flick of the wrist from his chest to the koopa’s.

---

“I mean, it would have been nice to know what the plan was,”was Rika’s initial addition to Sakura and Bella’s conversation about the streetfighter blaming herself for the situation they were in, before realising that this was not helpful in the slightest and quickly adding “but there being more than one big baddy up here took us all by surprise right. Would have worked if there had just been him, I’m sure”

It was at this point that Bella’s increase in size was pointed out, and the (former?) princess started theorizing about how the food worked. Fattening the kids up so they could be turned into food was both terrifying and confusing to Rika, who couldn’t see the point of it all. Why use this rapid aging food to rapidly grow something like fish instead, other than to be intentionally terrible.

The evil/stupidity of the whole plan was something of an aside. What was important/ interesting, and possibly dangerous, was the aging or enlarging them. Bella had all sorts of fears about this possibly over aging them or causing trouble for if/when they undid the curse, but from Rika’s perspective there was one key factor that needed to be addressed right away, and that the woman’s tail, by which she was bound, had grown significantly even in comparison to the rest of her body. Which was a good and bad thing.

“So, uh, your tails got very big. Which I mean is good, because even if the food doesn't bring Sakura’s training back and just makes her, like, older but with Peach muscles, it will give us our big big guns back! So we can shoot these jerks! But, uh, a bit more of a current problem is that, and don't freak out about this, but it's kiiiiinda straining the rope. Holding you over the fire”

She really hoped Bella would not freak out, because Rika herself kind of was. As she frantically tried to look on the bright side “But its ok! Maybe you can, uh, toss yourself loose with the big long thing when it does break? Maybe? Or, um, lift yourself up to the hook? Is it strong enough to do that?”

While the girls dangled and worried about dropping in the fire, Mimi was left leaderless and without instruction inside the kitchen. There were a whole number of things she could do but after deciding trying to solo the massive man with his horrible metal clever was not good for her health, she was a little lost without direction in this artificial environment. So she went to get said instruction, which involved trying to creep up to the fire itself and hiding in/behind the pole of pots stacked up in front of the fire, and then waving up again, distracting Rika from her rambling as she herself spotted the little mon for the first time.

“oh, hey look. It’s Mimi! Can you get us down?” she shout whispered down at the little mon

The mon looked over the hooks, then down at the fire and shook its head. There was no way she was going to be able to lift them off even if she could get up there safely. She simply wasn't strong enough.

“Turn off the fire? Cut us down? Or get me something to eat?” the mon shrugged at the first (she didn't really know how fire or ovens worked), but she did nod the second (she could sneak her shadow up and hack at the bonds) and third (there was plenty of food, though she would have to throw it up for them to catch with her legs or mouth which would be awkward)

The question that she had to ask the others was “do you think any of those are good ideas?”

Link's decision to chow down on some carrots that he'd hidden in his boot got a small sigh from the child Witcher. He wasn't sure how wise his reluctance to eat at this point was. While he recognized that that was most likely his stomach talking, he couldn't help but wonder. His hunger was unnatural, obviously a means to force him into eating the cursed food, but it was also crippling him. In his current state, he'd be hard pressed to give more than a good throw or two of the nail he was wielding.

Getting another look at the kitchen arrayed before them, Geralt was reassured that choosing stealth, at least for now, was a good plan. His body probably wouldn't be able to support him for an extended run, unfortunately, and that meant that even if shit hit the fan, he'd need to either rely on the others to help him along, or hope that more backup came along in the nick of time.

Link's plan to distract the chefs was sound, as was the addendum of potentially sowing the seeds of discord among them by framing one for causing a mess. With how high-strung these guys seemed to be, it wasn't a bad plan. Geralt nodded along. "That could certainly work. The stairs will be a chore, or climbing might even be more so, but I should be able to manage, albeit slowly. Some basic Witcher training and a light body make for a good climber." He wasn't exactly looking forward to climbing a rope made out of sausage links, but he would do what he had to to get the girls out. His anger was still there, but it was simmering rather than flaring up. When he had the chance to unleash it, there would be hell to pay.

With the communication and preparation of the three boys coming together into a solid plan, Mirage took hold of his dart gun and began to bide his time. All waited for the perfect opportunity, eyes glued to the shining silver carts propelled in perpetual, cyclical motion around the kitchen by the sorceries of the Tempura Wizards. The movements of the other chefs and the sounds of food cooking provided ample distraction, but with the high stakes of his friends’ lives on the line and a snack of cheese to stave off the pain of hunger, Mirage’s focus was razor sharp. When Antoine transferred a fresh load of meat from the trough beneath the west-side chute his grip on the dart gun tightened, but only after the cart rattled and clanked all the way around the kitchen and the stretch-faced chef snagged a hunk of chuck steak did he take action. With the instinct and eye of a seasoned gunslinger masked by his childlike form, the illusionist took aim at the wheel and fired.

After a quiet but portentous pop dart flew silently and stuck against the inner fuselage of the cart right behind the wheel, so that the next second its turn ate the rubbery projectile up and lodged it right between the metal. It stuck fast and hard, but the cart did not stop when the wheel did. A human pushing it around would have felt the disturbance in an instant and ceased pushing the moment he realized something was wrong, but the autonomous spell driving the cart lacked any kind of awareness. Instead the whole thing jolted and, aided by the weight of its burden, tipped right over. A tremendous crash echoed throughout the kitchen as it hit the tile, scattering its contents to splatter and roll across the floor of the entire northeast section, right to where an aghast Antoine stood with his hands against his head. The malformed chef let out a strained, inhuman blurt of frustration and alarm, but it was the bellow of the King of Cuisine that bounced off the kitchen walls.

“You ABSOLUTE BUFFOON!” he yelled, thundering over from the ovens. Scared by the sudden clamor he’d accidentally jerked the four-meat pizza he’d just been putting in, spilling a bunch of its toppings into the oven’s blackened depths. Even the sushi chef over in his corner looked over, irate. “You worthless clod! Not happy just screwing up your own garbage, huh? You’ve got to bring us all down with you!” He grabbed the smaller chef by the doughy cheek and pulled, stretching out his face to an unnatural degree as his arms labored to prop him up against the counter behind him so that he wouldn’t fall into the fire. “If this were my kitchen, I’d have you fired, literally! The first and last time anything of yours is ‘well done!’ Disgusting imbecile!” With a final wrench he shoved the chef into the counter. Groaning hideously and rubbing his cheek, he slumped to the floor. Antoine, meanwhile, whirled on the Tempura Wizards. “You two, pick all this up right now! Its a damn good thing the guests don’t care if it’s been on the floor.” Still mad, Antoine surveyed the disaster one last time, but found no trace of outside interference and returned to his own meals with a huff.

At that point, however, came a weedy laugh from above. An unexpected complication peered down from the second floor with a wide smile. “Hahahaha!” Larry cackled, leaned his bulk over the upstairs railing. His unfortunate positioning delayed anyone’s ascent via sausage links--a trip made extremely difficult in the first place by the sheer exertion of hungry children being forced to lift their own weight at least a whole story straight up. “Everything okay down there? Oh, but don’t mind me. I’ve got a job to do! Hahahaha!” Larry gave a mocking wave and returned to his fish fillets, leaving the mess for everyone else to take care of.

Antoine scowled and bent to the task of salvaging his pizza. “Ingrates, every last one,” he muttered bitterly. “Not an ounce of cooking skill among them, except Fujimoto. Grragh. I’ve gotta get out of this hellhole...I’ve been working my ass off. She’s gotta appreciate all the quality I’ve put in by now. Just gotta go right up to her, tell her how it is…”

During the disturbance, which the captives upstairs knew must be the work of their friends already attempting a rescue, Bella kept her eyes peeled. Even as the smoke stung them and made them water, she stayed aware so that she could consider every aspect of the situation. The hubbub had put all of Rika’s hushed suggestions momentarily on hold, but now -and especially when Larry stepped away from the table nearby- she could afford to answer. “Extinguishing the fire would be great, but it would take a lot to douse this burning wood. And I’d rather not descend into the fire either by falling or growing.” Being taller than the other girls now, it was her feet that the flames licked every so often, forcing her to spend extra energy by bending them up and out of the way. Another attempt to wriggle her tail confirmed its extra length and weight. Even tied up she could sense the difference. At full size her leviathan tail weighed much more than she did even as an adult, and it was already on its way. Unfortunately her bonds put its head above the bar and hook she hung from, and firing at the ceiling served no purpose in her mind. Bella gritted her teeth. “If not for that man, we could figure something out. But he would notice and stop anything we might try.”

Chaos and calamity echoed through the arena as Shadow and Ciella went at it. A little part of Midna debated itself as to whether having the two powerhouses go at it front he start would have been a better or worse way to handle the madwoman (while another vicious part of her simply found Ciella’s screams of pain very cathartic), but after sending sand their way she stuck to her self given task of preventing ring-outs.

Using her own magic to hold her wounded form aloft, she relied on the concentrated magics of the outsiders to do all the heavy lifting work that she herself could not do. Her shadowhand hauled up the battered but not broken bodies of those of the the resistance (and Braum) she could fine down to the safest and most stable part of the arena. Considering two of the three were absolute beefcakes, this was easier said than done. She could at least relieve them of some of their heavier possessions for the duration of the trip, hammer and shield both were sent to the twilight realm, but that still left their bulk and the knight’s armor (of which was not going to try and strip the man of, easier as that may have made carrying him), which made Reinhardt take up most of her time transporting. The far leanly built Mordecai weighed as much as a feather by comparison.

The spirits of the fallen had their own burden on her conscience, though that weight was quickly banished when she summoned a spare jar from among the rebel’s stolen goods and repurposed it as a spirit holding container. She would not let their deaths be for nothing at the very least.

She was just in the process of dropping off Mordecai when the battle of bird and hedgehog came crashing down to the ground in a cacophonous finale.

”Goddesses” she swore as they smashed down, turning her shadowhand from man carrier to guardian arm just in time for it to guard against the deluge of water to slosh over the entire arena, threatening to sweep all of them into the cracks and down into the barrier. No, not the barrier, Midna realized as she hunkered among her rescuers and weathered the storm. Into the now exposed void below.

”Is she-?” Midna began to ask herself, only to see that Ciella had not in fact died, but she had been de powered and her arms and face where in ruin. It was unclear if she could still fight. If she couldn't, then it looked like she would survive for much longer, as Shadow lined up another energy spear to finish the job.

Midna could have tried tossing something, or using a stolen gun to shoot at him, to intervene but neither of those had good odds of hitting home due to distance, inexperience and her wounded state. Also frankly, at this point Midna didn't really care what happened to Ciella. Indeed, her dying here would make things so much simpler in the short term.

She didn't take action to try and ensure that occurred either however. Focusing on Ciella had already cost lives, and there were still rebels unaccounted for as either spirits or bodies. So once she was sure the 3 she had found were secure she set out, seeking the gunner, the warrior and the sniper’s avian companion to ensure they too were not at risk of falling or being caught in the crossfire.

She paused then, thinking of those she sought, and then turned to the sniper himself, tapping her chest and drawing out a friend heart. There was risk to reviving one of the rebels, she thought, but there was also a risk of leaving them behind undefended as well.

But she had leverage over this one, or so she hoped.

”You were controlled, now you are free. Now do me a favor and keep them safe ” she rapidly explained and then nodded to the two heavyweights ”from anyone with glowing red eyes while I go find your bird. Deal? Also try not to kill anyone, this nightmare has cost enough lives already”

If he agreed to act as guardian, and she believed him to be speaking honestly, then she’d use her shadow hand to toss him the Prowler (which she had taken from among the ruins of the entry office) for his troubles, after which the princess would do as she had said, and seek out his companion, as well as anyone else who who was out of it and was thus unable to protect themselves or keep themselves on level ground.