Without wasting time on deliberation, Joker’s two allies engaged the Resistance fighters that threatened his plan to go after Nastasia, and as ever Mao did not hesitate to get his hands dirty. Protected by his shield, Braum was just about invincible from the front, but with only scattered pieces of that navy blue armor on his person he could not boast an impregnable defense from other angles. Being much, much smaller than his target, the little overlord had only so many options when it came to picking a target, so with sword in hand he struck at Braum’s calves. After all, human fragility means that a single slice through the right tendon would topple the big man where he stood. In the heat of the moment and poor light of the arena, however, Mao only realized that his opponent happened to be wearing greaves when a metallic
clang rang out and the impact jarred his hands.
The failure of Mao’s surprise attack alerted Braum to his presence, and as the demon backpedaled to avoid a guaranteed counterattack, the Heart of the Freljord spun to deliver it. The weight of his enlarged shield meant he couldn’t lift it fast enough to strike normally with, so instead he left it standing there and came at Mao with a giant hook. He poured enough strength into the dizzying punch to scatter Mao’s teeth across the arena, but the blow came slow enough that the overlord could flee the danger zone and live to chew another day. A second later his longsword carved through the air once again, this time aimed for a more exposed part of Braum’s body. The hunk of scrap metal that slammed into Braum’s back, nearly doubling him over, gave Mao the perfect opportunity. But even then he couldn’t catch a break. His steel drew blood, but even with demonic might stopped short of bone, stymied by dense muscles, tough sinews, and formidable gristle. And even as pain twisted his face, Braum threw his diminutive opponent a manly smile. “Come now, friend! It’ll take a lot more than that!” He then grit his teeth, and with bulging muscles lifted his oversized shield high enough to slam it into the ground, creating a tremor strong enough to throw Mao off his feet if he didn’t jump. In a way, his efforts seemed almost more like showing off than a real attack. Not every human, it seemed, was made of tissue paper.
After hurling some debris into the fight between Braum and Mao, Jesse turned her attention to settling her score with Sven. He’d hindered her with an unwelcome transformation last time, but without a brainwashed defender getting in her way, the FBC director saw no reason to change her plan. This time, it went off without a hitch. Electricity flew far faster than glass vials, and the old alchemist couldn’t prevent Jesse’s reality-altering revolver engorged his already-sizeable midsection. After only a handful of shots his stubby legs could no longer support him, at which point his last ditch attempt to throw a potion at Jesse caused him to teeter forward onto his stomach, where he could to little but wheeze and wriggle, totally defeated. Even then the parautilitarian took no chances, recycling the metal she’d pelted Braum with to nudge her corpulent opponent further away from the fight.
Joker, meanwhile, had reached his target. Though he’d launched into a sprint the moment he’d landed after jumping off Braum, kicking up sand with each footstep, he slowed as he got closer. In his peripherals he caught sight of billowing mist as it filled the colosseum. Remembering Ciella’s attack from the conference room, he readied himself for any purple circles or blue charged shots, but other than that did not trouble himself too much. It wasn’t just caution that took the wind from his sails right now, either; rather, the sight of Nastasia all alone invoked a mixture of contempt and pity. Without any allies left, the little secretary was trying to pick up one of the alien rifles a Vandal left behind, but it was too heavy for her. She couldn’t so much as get it out of the sand, let alone wield it. Joker approached at a saunter with his hands in his pockets, watching without sympathy as Nastasia strained to raise the weapon. “Out of bodies to throw at us?” Unceremoniously Joker kicked the rifle from her hands to slide across the floor, and when his own hand came down it held his new revolver, leveled at his enemy’s head. It was empty, but she didn’t know that, and a gun offered a lot more intimidation than a knife. Sure enough, Nastasia fell flat on her rear, whimpering. Though pretty sure by now that she needed to get her hands on his head in order to brainwash him, Joker remained a good six feet away. “Game over. Release everyone you’ve enslaved and announce your surrender, or else.”
The next few moments, however, made it a challenge to keep his focus on Nastasia. As it turned out, despite Jesse’s best efforts, Sven’s part in the battle had yet to conclude. Sectonia, generally annoyed by her nemesis and frazzled by the explosion of his Chaos Lance after she’d blinked out of the way of a direct hit, decided to take a little revenge for being used against Ciella earlier by doing a little using of her own. Sven craned his neck upward in confusion as the giant wasp appeared before him, only to disappear again a moment later. Her departure, however, revealed a sight that made his eyes go wide in terror. A nebulous vortex of distorted space, like a malignant rift in reality itself, bore down upon him like a bowling ball careening toward a lone pin, but something in Sven’s gut told him that he wouldn’t be spared. Spittle flew from his mouth as he shrieked, his panicked voice pleading, “Shadow, stop! STOOOOOOOOP-!”
His cry for mercy gave way to a wordless howl of death, but only for a brief moment. The next he was gone. Destroyed. The Chaos Burst tore through the arena’s metal floor, leaving a hole in its wake. A moment later Shadow flew back out, totally ignorant of what happened, to engage Sectonia once again. “All you do is run!” he snarled, and after curling up he launched himself at his foe in another Spin Attack. This time he did not use Chaos Burst, but relied on his Spin Attack’s homing ability to chase Sectonia down wherever she fled and slam into her like a spiked wrecking ball.
Neither Shadow nor Sectonia got very far. After Ciella disappeared into her mist, Midna got busy trying to prevent whatever she had in store. Thanks to the healing received from Mona’s persona she could hustle over to the fight by the arena entrance without too much pain and enact a plan to reveal the Agito before she struck. The beat of her Twilit Vibrava’s wings swirled sand into the air, reminiscent of the storms she’d endured while fighting the Flygons the previous day, and Midna fanned the flames with some extra sand pulled from her own realm. Despite her front-row seat to Sven’s disturbing demise, she managed to whip up a bonafide sandstorm, purging Ciella’s mist from the bottom-most portion of the colosseum. With her machinations laid bare, the Agito couldn’t possibly launch her surprise attack.
It was a clever plan. But the wrong one.
Right on schedule, Ciella revealed herself, but not among the combatants at the bottom of the arena. Instead, she appeared at the top in a spinning flourish, then with wings fanned out and claws outstretched, began a quick charge. In front of her a gargantuan purple AoE appeared, covering the whole arena except for the areas beside and behind her. It filled much, much faster than the circular ones created by Hail of Arrows, almost fast enough that someone could blink and miss it. “Sink into the abyss of despair!” Ciella cried, and she fired.
A hundred arrows blasted forth, a veritable spike wall of water that stretched from floor to ceiling, flooded the arena in a single colossal wave. They pierced everything in their path, including support columns and the arena’s walls, creating so many holes that the entire structure groaned under the weight. Heroes and villains toppled end over end, a huge chunk of their collective vitality depleted in an instant.
After a few moments, a wounded cat reached out a plaintive paw. “Zorro...help him!”
As Mona’s Diarama went off, Joker coughed a mixture of blood and water, then got up to his forearms and knees. Soaked, sandy, and nearly skewered, he still lived, but his first thoughts were not of himself. “Fox? Fox!” Remembering his friend’s acid burns, he feared that not enough of Fox’s health remained for him to survive Ciella’s onslaught. His panicked gaze, however, landed on his friend’s outline, hurt but alive as well. “You made it!”
Breathing heavily, Fox nodded. “Before it struck, Mona managed to restore me.”
Joker’s eyes landed on the little thief. “Great job, bud. Seriously. Make sure you heal yourself up, too.”
“Sure thing,” Mona replied, wearing a smile despite his sorry state thanks to the rare praise.
The Phantom Thieves rose shakily, watching Ciella as she flew over. Assured of victory perhaps, she maintained her composure, even as that vicious spark still burned within her eyes. Nastasia saw her too, having staggered to her own feet ahead of most of the others and noticed the lack of barrier about her person. “My overshield…” Unprotected and alone, she looked around in fear until her gaze landed on a black-and-red hedgehog. “Uh, hello? Earth to Shadow? Save me already!”
Shadow grunted in anger, but he could not disobey. He teleported to Nastasia’s position, and the secretary jumped up to cling to him like a koala.
Gnashing her teeth, Ciella extended a claw. “No, you don’t!” A chunk of ice appeared above them, being one of the fastest attacks the Agito could get out, but even as it fell Shadow and Nastasia disappeared into distorted space. It devoured both ice above and floor below, and as Shadow propelled it forward from within Joker was forced to dive headlong out of the way, lest he share the same fate as Sven.
“Drat. I was so close…” As he got to his feet he realized that the arena itself was shaking dangerously. The damage already done to the support pillars and walls plus Ciella’s assault and Shadow’s destruction of the floor combined to make the whole place a lot less structurally sound. Entire sections of ground had been cut out by now, limiting the space non-fliers had to work with. How a hypothetical falling floor would interact with the Ciella’s Feral Shroud Joker couldn’t say, but he didn’t want to find out. “We’re on the clock.” A quick look around confirmed that Ciella seemed to be focused on the last of the Resistance, less a fight and more of a hit-and-run chase. It looked like Shadow couldn’t keep himself and his boss inside that black hole of his for long, although that hardly made up for him being able to pull all this crap in the first place. Whenever he emerged, disoriented by his blind charge, he invariably executed another Spin Attack at the nearest enemy that became another Chaos Burst on the way. That could be capitalized on. But how?
Joker’s assessment terminated on the spirit of Uncle Sven, floating above a section of uneaten ground. “There,” he said aloud. “Necro, tell me everything you say about that morph potion he used on us.”
After deflecting an incoming call with a muttered
we’re kinda busy right now the Persona complied. “Based on my scans, it was a total physical change. No attack, no defense, none of my buffs, nothing. You were basically helpless. Are you thinking…”
“That’s a win condition,” Joker nodded. “If we can just tag them with that power, we can beat them.”
Necronomicon contacted him again. “Hate to rain on your parade, but there’s no guarantee that anyone’ll get that power from fusion. Even your luckiest Persona could end up with, I dunno, just that bouncy potion.”
Sighing, Joker readied his knife. Mona and Fox stood by his side. “Guess we’re doing this the hard way then.” The Thieves ran and jumped their way across the arena toward where Ciella and Shadow were going at it. This was the final stretch.
Tora and Poppi
Level 9 Tora (56/90) Level 9 Poppi (56/90) Level 4 Big Band (12/40)
Location: Al Mamoon Northwest - Obelisk Temple
Primrose’s
@Yankee, Fox’s
@Dawnrider, Yoshitsune and Sora’s
@Rockin StringsWord Count:The news that the other half of Yellow Team was neither picking up nor returning Fox’s call was all that Tora and Poppi needed to ready them for another long run. When asked if the rest could help them out sans their resident space animal, they collectively stood behind Skull’s response. “Yeah, no sweat! We can go another couple rounds!” The boy smacked his fist into his palm. “You go on ahead while we mop up the rest of those Resistance jerks!”
“Take care now,” Panther added, addressing Fox, Band and Goldlewis together. “Make sure those goons don’t try any funny business. We’ll be back before you know it.”
Arms crossed, Azwel looked indignant. “Goons!? We’re right here, you know.”
Ignoring him, Tora jumped into the air, pumping his wing like a fist. “Meh-meh, let’s go!”
With the dutiful Es as their guide to the main base and Sora as extra firepower the Seekers ran off, leaving the stay-behinds, Grimleal, and Lautrec to sort things out. Throughout the proceedings the knight, freed from his jail cell down in the Khamoon dungeon only to be apprehended by the Grimleal as a precaution, had kept quiet, but after watching Yellow Team go he approached the remainder to explain his own situation and plead for his release. As it turned out, the Resistance had captured him while he was minding his own business and locked him up, waiting for their boss to come and hypnotize him. With Robin reluctantly backing him up, Lautrec received both a pardon and his release from Kan-Ra, and the embraced knight strode away with his brazen armor gleaming in the afternoon light.
It didn’t take much running for Tora, Poppi, Primrose, Yoshitsune, and the others to start feeling the fatigue accumulated by all their running and fighting since lunchtime. Luckily, Skull and Panther had a solution ready, which the dancer recognized as the same that rejuvenated them after their post-palace hospital visit. Al Mamoon, the fair desert city of anachronism, featured more than a few vending machines along its dusty streets, and the Phantom Thieves came to a stop in front of the first machine they found. “Okay, just a second,” Skull said, retrieving from his pockets the coins dropped by the shadows encountered in Madarame’s Museum of Vanity. “It ain’t just ‘cause I’m thirsty, either. This stuff’s got power in the Metaverse. It’ll perk ya right up, for real!” The machine rattled and dispensed an Udagawa Soda, which he pulled out before turning to Panther. “Whaddya want?”
“Uh, Earl Green for me.” Once the Thieves had their drinks, they stepped away from the machine to down them in a hurry. Sure enough, the beverages restored some of their health and spirit, replenishing enough stamina that they could fight at pretty much full strength again.
Though healthy as could be, Tora liked the sound of more energy, and stepped up to the machine next. He scoped out the choices while he scrounged up money. His options were Second Maid, a sugary lime juice, Manta, a salty-sweet juice cocktail, Earl Green, an energy drink based on tea, Ultimate Amazake, a liquid dessert of fermented rice, the banana-flavored Udagawa Soda, Miso Starfish (which appeared to be invertebrate brine in a can), and Dr. Salt NEO, a workout supplement. Predictably he snagged an Ultimate Amazake, which proved to be just a little too sweet for even his rather immature palate. Still, it did the job. He felt refreshed and ready to run.
Being relatively fresh himself Sora need not try anything, which was lucky since he had no money on him, but unless the rest wanted to lag behind they needed to slurp something down quickly. After that, they were on their way. Short and very quick, Es turned out to be difficult to follow, and holding back to make sure nobody got left behind didn’t fully solve the problem. With the work day drawing to a close the streets were crowded with people on their way home from their jobs, out shopping, or on the hunt for a place to eat. After a while of dodging and jostling Tora and Poppi nearly lost Es after a super-sized duo of
futuristic wrestler and
blue-collar alien separated them. “Not so fast!” Tora wheezed, running out of the way of a
snake-in-a-mech. A
musical fracas by the side of the street momentarily distracted him, but the Nopon managed to reorient himself on Es’s mop of blonde hair. “How much farther, meh!?”
“There,” Es deadpanned.
Not much farther ahead stood
Rocket HQ, the office building that housed the Resistance’s primary headquarters. Judging by the skeleton crew of Grimleal acolytes, Yellow Team had come to the right place. Once through the open doors they came upon a scene of utter havoc, with acolytes here and there picking through an office space utterly demolished by breaking waves and wanton weapons fire. Laharl reclined in one of the few remaining office chairs, somewhere between sulking and relaxing. Tora ran over. “What you doing here?” he asked. “Where everyone else?”
Without a word the surly demon pointed in the direction of the stairs where he last saw Mao’s team. The rest was up to the Seekers.
Practically the moment Nadia went quiet, Mirage spoke up. He cut through the panic-fueled indecision and quickly got the situation back into perspective, noting the various options at hand before choosing one for himself. Rather than deliberate further, Geralt -looking a lot more mad than Nadia had seen him thus far- started barking orders. Nadia knew they had the right idea. There wasn’t time to stand around and think about what to do; they just needed to do something. With their numbers, they could afford to spread out and try some of everything. Ace seemed really out of sorts for some reason, appearing pretty much normal despite his accounts of changed arms, but the others leaped into action. The Koopa and Blazermate started attacking the door. Link, Geralt, and Mirage, armed with various weapons from nails to knives, fretted not about their own lives but forged onward into the unknown, squeezing themselves one after another inside the vent.
Nadia found herself envying their decisive selflessness, wishing she had it in her to be so noble. But self-deprecation could come later. Now was the time for heroics. “I’ll go around,” she announced. “Gonna claw those assholes’ eyes out!” As the boys and Mimikyu disappeared into the narrow passageway she turned tail, putting the locked door toward the south in her sights. Since Blazermate seemed more focused on Bowser and son’s attempt to beat through the door by force, Nadia decided to get the key. As she scampered toward the door she held her magnet up toward the central table, willing it to show the same power it revealed while fighting Moreau. Obligingly the key slid off the edge and into her waiting grasp. Though a little wet with blood for her taste she held tight long enough to chuck it at Kamek, who’d positioned himself right below the hanging padlock. A young koopa might not be able to do much, but he could grab and jump, and with all the energy his starving body could muster Kamek leaped upward to drive the key home. As he dangled he wrenched the key sideways, which both unlocked the mechanism with a satisfying click and slipped it free from the latch. He fell straight into Nadia’s arms as she ran below him, and with a swift kick the door swung inward. Though a small victory, the efficiency of the whole maneuver, having taken only a couple seconds, hyped her up. “Nice! One step at a time!”
Two steps into the next room Nadia’s feet flew out from under her, and she went down. A last-second toss spared Kamek a full-bodied splat onto the ground, hard enough to drive the wind from Nadia’s lungs. As she gasped the feral looked around, trying to figure out what happened. The ground was weirdly slick, and it quickly became apparent why.
This place appeared to be a washroom, its tiles soaked with soap suds that gathered into foamy drifts around the sinks piled impossibly high with dirty dishes. Still recovering from her fall, Nadia had a moment for an incredulous stare at the precarious pillars and pots, plates, and bowls, stacked way, way higher than even the tallest chef could reach. Her upward gaze brought her attention to a large porthole window above a white cupboard, although she couldn’t see anything beyond it but a deep, dark blue, occasionally interspersed with bubbles.
Outside? she mused, having almost forgotten that this whole place was one mammoth submarine. Maybe her time on the docks of Little Innsmouth explained how she’d gotten used to the gentle heel of this place in the water. Her examination of the place also turned up two more doors to the east and west, with the westward one accompanied by what looked like a food delivery cart. If her spatial awareness served her well, that door led out into the hallway the crew originally came in through, the same one that bordered the dimly-lit cafeteria on one side. A big, smelly bucket labeled ‘scraps for Moreau’ on the other side of the door suggested that the kids weren’t the only ones served by that cart, either. Neither were the chefs the only ones at work. Throughout the washroom a crew of
living forks and even a couple
toque-wearing koopas seemed to be hard at work, so busy soaping and scrubbing that none gave more than a cursory glance at the intruders
Since none of them felt like getting in the way, Nadia focused instead on the other door. Going eastward, it granted access to a room directly south of the one the butchers fled to, which hopefully offered a north-facing door of its own. As she rose to her feet, however, Nadia realized that getting over there might be tricky. The soapy tiles might not warrant a second glance from those heavy-set chefs, but for a lightweight child they presented a real issue. Kamek might try asking the koopas for help, but time was of the essence, and Nadia planned to solve this problem herself.
But how? Even if tiptoeing or dragging herself on her belly worked, the kitten knew, it would take more time than she had. Could she climb up onto the counters and go around the sinks, maybe?
Or…A lightbulb went off in Nadia’s head, and with a smile she knelt, then reached back to switch on her fan. The next moment she was sliding right across the floor like a hovercraft. In doing so she cut the trip down to just seconds. Ahead of her she could see light pouring both beneath the eastward door and through its keyhole, but rather than faceplant while trying to jump up and get at the knob with soapy hands the feral fixed her eyes on the slot on the side at head height. Dirty dishes came through to land on a small conveyor belt and be dumped into the nearby sink. Trying to jump would lead to another painful fall, but Nadia already had another great idea.
Man, I’m on a roll! She shut off her fan, then while still sliding took it off and put it in front of her. After climbing on top she got boosted up to the conveyor. From there she could fetch her fan with her magnet, then push it through the dish slot before squeezing through herself. She nearly got stuck halfway through, no doubt thanks to all the food she’d gobbled up, but a little extra effort popped her through.
Nadia landed with a roll, realizing the moment she hit the ground that it wasn’t tile, but carpet, and a narrow stretch of carpet at that. She found herself on some sort of wide balcony, mostly wooden planks, that overlooked a long, two-story hallway running north to south. Speaking of north, Nadia looked that way to see no door leading into the kitchen where her friends had been taken, and smacked the carpet in anger. “Rats!”
A curious grunt sounded out from the other direction, drawing her attention instantly. Her eyes went wide as she spotted another
hideous chef, twin to the first. Where his brother's face stretched wide, however, his mushed inward, forming a fishlike pucker beneath a mop of greasy hair. Having been leaning against and looking over the balcony in the southeast corner, a lit cigarette in hand, he looked over slowly enough that Nadia could skitter away just in time and hide behind a
decorative vase. Her tail protruded, but the chef didn’t seem to notice. Instead he gave a heavy cough, put his cigarette out on the railing, and turned to take hold of a meal cart behind him, laden with a very large, bulbous sack. He pushed it into the
room to the south and closed the door behind him.
That left just one option. Nadia scurried over to the balcony railing, where the carpet that extended in front of the washroom door proceeded over a bridge across the hallway, no doubt the way the second chef came in. As she crossed she spotted a dumbwaiter on the floor below, left side, right beneath the butchers’ kitchen. “Bingo!” It was currently open, with a few Volbonian waiters removing its contents to distribute throughout what Nadia just now realized must be a massive Japanese-themed restaurant. She wrinkled her nose. “Ugh, I hate sushi.” Then again, what this place actually seemed to be serving revolted her a whole lot more. Furthermore, she recognized the decor--the same sort that she saw at the Maw’s entrance. The realization lit a fire inside her.
We must be near the top! Once her friends were safe, they might actually be pretty close to escaping! She glanced back as the Runaway dropped down behind her, then looked back at the path ahead. Nadia just needed to get down there without breaking her ankles or alerting the staff. She couldn’t fit or break through the bars of the railing either, so that meant traversing the restaurant itself until she found a way down.
After crossing the bridge, however, she found that the trip might be a whole lot easier said than done. The moment she stepped inside the dining space she beheld a scene of
breathtaking gluttony. Rows and rows of Guests, the same sort that waddled out of Tyl Regor’s sealab, sat hunched in booths and benches that creaked beneath their weight, shoveling food into their faces. Whenever one even got close to running out, a Volbonian came by with a ‘fresh’ platter to top off their never-ending feast. The sight robbed Nadia of her appetite, although she gulped in apprehension. It wasn’t hard to imagine one blindly snapping her up as she climbed by. Still, she had no choice. For the sake of her friends, the little feral sprinted onward.
After padlocking the door, Larry and his calloused accomplice hurriedly tied the hands (and in Bella’s case, the tail) of their new meat before hanging them by their ropes over the blazing cookfire that dominated one wall of the two-story kitchen they’d fled to. “No wiggling now!” Larry cautioned his catches. “Unless you wanna roast early!” Laughing, he sauntered off until a sudden uproar alerted the cooks to a concerted effort to batter down the door. “Huh?!” Taken by surprise, Larry motioned toward the stretch-faced chef. “C’mere, gimme a hand!” Together, the two dragged a laden cupboard in front of the door, blocking it so thoroughly as to crush and chance of smashing through. “Bahaha, no need to rush!” Larry cackled, patting the shelf. “Once we’re done with the appetizers, we’ll grab you for the main course!”
His laughing trailed off as a racket resounded up from the nearby stairs, and a moment later
Chef Antoine appeared. “What the hell’s all this ruckus?” he seethed, wiping his fingers off on a bloody apron. “You both should be working, we’re barely keeping up as it is! The King of Cuisine does not disappoint!”
“Just some extra ingredients,” Larry leered, poking Bella in the tummy. As she whined, Sakura might realize for the first time that her friend looked both taller and heavier than she remembered. If she’d been a girl of four before, she now looked maybe six, or even seven.
Her attention shifted back to Antoine, who did not look pleased by Larry’s suggestion. “Lunatics, what use is meat like that? Woeful that it is, our clients care not for quality, but quantity! We must focus on greater portions!”
“Some King of Cuisine you are!” Larry shot back. “We oughta be proud of our craft!”
“Craft? What craft!? A back-alley bloodletter like you wouldn’t know quality meat if it hit you in the face!” Though smaller than the butcher, Antoine got right up in the man’s face. “And if you don’t finish your fillets right this instant, I’ll show you exactly what I mean!”
For a moment there was silence, save the crackle of the flames and the simmering of the cookpots. Then Larry turned away in a huff to head back to the giant fish he’d been cutting up for Fujimoto’s sushi, grumbling under his breath. Antoine glowered at the blocked door before addressing the stretch-faced chef. “Come with me downstairs. I need you to handle the pot roast.” The two departed, leaving Sakura and the Abyssals alone with Larry. In anger the butcher struck his cleaver against the bars of a cage filled with
Aggrolls,
Minimakis, and
Noodlers, then grudgingly returned to his task.
The trip through the vents turned out to be more complicated than any of its crawlers would have liked. A few feet brought them to a T-junction right in front of the vent’s opposite end, but rather than a hatch it terminated in a grate, screwed on both very tight and from the outside. From there none of them could do much but take in the kitchen’s smells and the chefs’ argument, then turn to go down the other way. After another dozen feet it turned right and sloped downward at a forty-five degree angle, steep enough that it would be tricky not to fall straight down. At this point the sheer coldness of the metal also started to take a toll, hurting any exposed skin that came in contact with it. Nevertheless, the little heroes carried onward, making their way down to the main kitchen’s first floor. There the frontrunner found a miracle: a hatch rather than a grate. Through it he could emerge beneath a counter. They were in.
Immediately there was a problem. Beneath the counter lay five mousetraps, arrayed right around the vent. Three of them offered chunks of cheese, and two morsels of meat, but the cheese in particular provided a strong temptation thanks to its potent small and far less dubious origin. Unlike the food in the cafeteria, Mirage couldn’t just ignore this. It lay right in his path, demanding confrontation. Still, simple mousetraps would not be the end of the vent-goers’ story.
Once past them, the heroes had only the entirety of the kitchen’s first and second floors between them and their friends. On the first floor they spotted Antoine, stretch-face, and
yet another chef hard at work, with the unfamiliar face single-mindedly focused on making sushi. Once he finished a batch and plated it, he pushed it into a dumbwaiter and closed it, causing the other side (presumably facing a restaurant of some kind) to open. The others worked on dishes of their own, including a jumbo-sized meaty lasagna and a huge pot roast. The roast featured a slab of meat far too large to be a child, but that did little to abate the newcomers’’ fury. They thought only of revenge and a way forward, but even that turned up a couple issues. Scattered around the place were
Scalding Coffee Cups, superheated caffeine spirits that served double duty as chef stimulants and pest control. Though quite hot, they presented only a minor threat compared to the duo of
Tempura Wizards who busied themselves using their magic to transform otherwise worthless scraps of food into tempura. It didn’t take a genius to intuit that the same might apply to any unwelcome guests. Still, with all of the stuff around there were a huge number of both places to hide and potential weapons to find, offering the heroes many ways to go about their business.
Old Mill
Location: Frozen Highlands - Alpine Skyline / Wildwood Glades
Linkle’s
@GentlemanvaultboyAlbedo paused and quietly turned to face Linkle as she approached the cats. Though she possessed only good intentions, she did not let them off the hook easily, but instead did her best to make them realize the foolishness of their actions. As she revealed to them the degree to which she could have destroyed them and went on to describe the brutality a less merciful victim like the Stranger might inflict, the fuzzy burglars listened with round eyes and mouths agape. Her final words of advice provoked a vigorous round of head-nodding, the young gang thoroughly intimidated and ready to mend their ways. When Linkle asked for Albedo’s pouch, which the alchemist himself actually forgot about in favor of his sketchbook, one cat returned the stolen coinpurse sheepishly before scampering off to hide behind her toy drum.
A moment later the Skullgirl joined Albedo on the edge of the cat burglars’ loft, and received from her new friend an impressed nod. “Well done,” he told her, his voice soft and flat as ever, but Linkle could tell that he meant it. With the situation handled the duo, delayed but not aggravated by the feeling of totally wasted time, could leave the old mill behind. Without a windglider, getting down wasn’t as easy as it could have been, but neither Albedo or Linkle had too much trouble. Plus, during the descent they divert more attention to picking up pons, and by the time the pair reached terra firma all their climbing had amassed them a decent stash. “That’s probably enough for another badge, if not two,” the alchemist observed. “If you want to ride back over to the village and get them, feel free.” He held his chin in his hand as he looked out through the crisp alpine air at the lively little mountain town. “I had considered sketching the village from afar anyway, so I would not mind.”
Whatever Linkle decided to do, the next step of their journey lay on the opposite end of the old mill’s plateau, and it began by taking hold of the flagline that plunged downward into the sea of clouds that blanketed the misty valley. As he descended, hanging once more for his life from a mere rope, Albedo could feel the air getting steadily warmer. It remained cool, but no longer freezing, and he could appreciate the change if not the manner in which he encountered it. Before too long the clouds swallowed him up, and for a few moments he could see nothing but pure, unadulterated white, in every direction.
Then came the color.
Click for musicEmerging from the whiteness in a puff of fog, Albedo descended into a valley of breathtaking splendor. Below him stretched a forest of bone-white trees and vivid scarlet leaves atop a blanket of gorgeous wildflowers, their petals crimson, azure, indigo, and violet. Mossy green boulders dotted the tough, golden taiga grass. The flagline came to a stop at a tree in the front yard of a
quaint little hut covered in clovers and yellow flowers, its white-bearded dweller out front tending to his garden. The sight of Albedo, moving gingerly among the flowers as if afraid to dispel some beautiful illusion, made him chuckle. “G’day,” he said, holding up a paw in greeting as he leaned on his hoe like a staff. “Lovely bit o’ forest, eh? They call ‘em the Wildwoods. Some folks live here ‘n there but for the most part it’s pristine. Makes every day a blessin’.”
“Indeed.” Albedo looked around slowly, trying to take it all in. “No matter what my time in this world amounts to, I expect I won’t soon forget this.”
With a soft smile, the gopher held onto his stick. “I reckon you won’t.”
His mission momentarily forgotten, Albedo left it to Linkle to inquire about Freya.
