Legends: A Story of Lies [Star vs. The Forces of Evil, Gravity Falls, Big Bad Beetleborgs]

[TricksterPriest]

"What the heck happened to you guys?! Did the job Vexor gave you go bad?!"

Jara, holding her hand over the broken section of her mask, shook her head. "I do not want to talk about it. Fix my mask."

Noxic recoiled from them. "YOUR MASK BROKE?!"

Typhus nodded. "Yeah, that blue Beetle brat…"

Jara turned to let her mask glower at him.

He quickly changed the subject. "But even worse, Kombat Knat betrayed me."

And now Noxic was just confused. "Typhus, your creations are like your kids, ain't they? Don't they love you?"

Typhus growled. "I thought he did… but then he met a girl who got him all messed up."

Noxic threw his hands up. "Of course. It would be a woman that'll get a guy thinking crazy!"

Click to shrink...

Milly: Why are they freaking out about the mask?

Zero: Presumably she doesn't take hits to the face often. It says something about how much better the kids are getting that she took a real hit.

CC: They do say women lead men astray.

He stopped. "No offense, Jara."

"Some taken."

He continued. "But still! Can't you just turn him off, or yank his chain, or anything?!"

Typhus looked down. "After Kamaza, I made sure to never make another monster that just blindly follows orders. Something that obedient and unthinking only causes trouble, baby."

His powerful hands tightened into fists. "I just didn't expect Kombat Knat to just drop everything and run off after that human. He went after her like a moth to a lamp."

Jara spoke up. "That energy that woman radiated."

Typhus mulled over it. "You think that's it? She really was a bug zapper, huh?"

Noxic scratched his metal head, pondering. "Geez, that's unlucky. The one time you need a creepy bug monster, and he gets led off by a bright light."

Click to shrink...

CC: It's not really a thing to get offended about, the heart wants what the heart wants.

Milly: Huh, surprisingly considerate for a monster boss.

Zero: It's simple logic, blind obedience is a bad idea. It means something cant think on it's own.

Zero: .......ohhhhhh. Now I get the reference.

Milly: ?

Zero: Shego is "The Radiance" from Hollow Knight. Kombat Knat has been bewitched by her light, just like how The Radiance bewitches those glimpse it's searing light.

Milly: Ok. What's Hollow Knight?

Zero: *facepalms* Never mind.

He pounded his fist into his palm. "Hey, why don't we try to get him back?"

After a few moments of pondering going out there again and thinking about how defiant Kombat Knat was to him… Typhus raised his head. "Yannow what? At the end of the day, there are lots of things worth dying for, and a whole lot of them are better than being under Vexor's thumb."

A long silence fell as the three Magnavore commanders let Typhus' realization sink in.

With that to consider, Noxic withdrew his suggestion. "Yeah, you're right."

Even Jara, as she removed her mask with her back to them and held it out for Noxic to take, agreed. "May Kombat Knat find his destiny, free of Vexor…"

Typhus nodded in agreement. "Yeah, bathed in radiance, baby."

Click to shrink...

Kallen: Sounds like these guys aren't on board with whatever Vexor is planning.

CC: Perhaps they'll jump ship later?

Trollouche: Vexor strikes me as the kind of boss who will discard minions if the prize is big enough, but not before.

Misao heard the click of the necklace and blinked in surprise. She was no longer in the Vanderhoffs' living room. She was suddenly adrift in an endless, star-filled void, far away from any celestial body but surrounded by them in every direction and a haunting ethereal light not-unlike the Aurora Borealis of the northern reaches of the world.

"Wo bin ich?" She asked aloud, her voice echoing only in her head. "Was ist das?"

Despite the infinite expanse, she cannot help but feel she is not alone in this emptiness. Realizing her hands and feet were free, she flailed around, and turned in place.

"Ist hier jemand?!"

She stopped, and gasped.

Looking over her was an impossibly sized figure, a giant that took up most of the void in front of her. It was solid black, blocking out the stars behind it, and outlined in the aurora. As she adjusted to comprehend its scale, Misao's eyes widened when she realized that it was humanoid and shaped like a woman. The long-haired feminine figure's only other feature besides its size, were two piercing eyes that glowed a vibrant green as they stared down at her.

Looking to her right, Misao gasped and found a second figure, this time that of a man. He too looked down at her, his eyes a piercing blue. However, the light that outlined him was whiter and only the edges swirled with color. As she began to turn, she realized she was surrounded by more of the figures.

A wolf outlined in red, as its white eyes seemed to cast contempt upon her.

A man with a blue outline, sharing the green eyes of the first figure, his wild hair barely tamed in a ponytail.

A younger-shaped figure, with a light-yellow outline, and softer green eyes.

Another younger figure with straight cut long hair, their outline a gentle pink but eyes glowing yellow.

A final violet outlined female figure, with eyes that were a lighter shade of blue than the others, almost icy.

Click to shrink...

CC: "Where am I?" "What is that?" "Is anyone here?!"

Kallen: .......Ok, wtf is this shit?

Trollouche: I'm totally lost here.

CC: Reminds me of that trip I took into your mind. Any clue who the phantoms are?

Trollouche: Not a one. This is new.

Milly: Does anyone know who these guys are?

CC: Search me. *shrugs*

Misao turned in place, looking at them all, as tears began to fill her eyes and flow down her cheeks. "I'm sorry… I'm… I'm so sorry…"

She stopped and looked up at the first figure. "I… I don't… I… no… I can't do it again."

Curling forward, Misao began to sob. "I can't do it anymore. Please… let me give up."

"No."

Misao stopped her whimpering when she heard her own voice. She looked back, and she was staring at herself, bathed head to toe in a silvery light, and her hair a radiant alabaster. Her glowing copy outstretched her hand to her, palm outstretched for her to take it.

Immediately, Misao rebuked her. "No?! NO?! After everything you want to keep going and subject us–subject them to… we're just going to do this again?!"

Her twin nodded. "Yes. Because we love them."

Misao began to cry again.

"Who does this to the people they love…?"

And just as quickly as she spoke, she was rebuked.

"We have no choice!"

Those words gave Misao pause.

Her twin in silver and white continued. "We can't stop. We can't give up. We can't go back…"

Misao knew what she was going to say, even as she didn't know why she knew.

"… We can only go forward."

Click to shrink...

Trollouche: *eyes widen*

CC: What?

Trollouche: Endless pain, unending sorrow.

Trollouche: A lifetime of regret

Trollouche: *rueful laugh* Oh Misao, what dark sisyphean task have you set yourself to?

She looked at her own outstretched hand, beckoning her. Raising her head, looking up and around at the silent monolithic figures in the darkness, and then over her shoulder at the first one. She felt her burst of uncertainty and fear melt away and a resolve surge to take its place.

Why she felt these emotions, why she was so afraid before and so determined now… she didn't know… but she understood that taking the hand outstretched to her would give her the clarity she desired, and the direction to place this burning in her chest.

As the last of her tears dried, Misao reached out and took her twin's hand. The other Misao smiled,and nodded to her.

"Say it."

Words that Misao'd never heard before burst to the front of her thoughts, words that if she spoke, she knew she could never take back.

She didn't care.

"Tetractys Grammaton."

Click to shrink...

Trollouche: "Even if I go to hell, I will live to the end of this world. And if the world does not come to an end... I will destroy it with my own hands!"

Trollouche: In another world and another story, a man who had lost everything made this unholy vow as the symbol of his hatred for all things.

Trollouche: Well then Misao Darlian, as one devil to another? Let us see where your resolve shall lead!

The last thing anyone had seen was Kombat Knat's jaws close like a bear trap on Mabel's head.

Then in the next instant, the monster was stumbling forward like a drunk stuck deep in a bottle.

Mabel was gone.

Not lifeless in his jaws, not headless on the ground. She had simply vanished.

After regaining his footing, a very confused Kombat Knat opened his jaws, but nothing came spilling out. "Ah?"

Marco turned to Hunterborg, relieved. "Super Speed is awesome."

Hunterborg was looking around, and then turned to Marco, Jackie, and Star. "… That wasn't me…"

Ron pointed past him. "Uhh… guys?"

Everyone looked in the direction direction he pointed and found Mabel alive and on the other end of the pool. She was alive and intact, and looking up at Misao.

"… Wow…"

The smaller girl stood, wearing from neck to toe a body fitting suit glowing as if it were made of white light with fitted crome plates on her arms, legs, and hips that sparkled and gleamed from the light the suit generated. From her back a pair of large, segmented, and telescoping protrusions extended upward, a full head taller than her, before curving downward to stop at just above her feet. A hazy light radiated from these wing-like protrusions–and on closer inspection, the source appeared to be transparent feathers made of glass.

Click to shrink...

Kallen: .....What the hell just happened? Why is she wearing powered armor?

Trollouche: The wheel of fate is turning.

Kallen: Lelouch, explain this shit!

Ron turned to look at Junior. "Hey! What did you put on her?!"

Junior, still staring at Misao, just shook his head. "… I do not know, but I am glad I did."

Kim, much more cautiously, moved towards Misao. "Hey, um… whatever that is, I think you need to take it off."

Hunterborg, concerned, was already in communication with Dipper. "Hey, we got a problem."

Over at the Beetle Battle Base, Dipper and Janna looked up at the whited-out screens that had been showing them the battle and recording various sensor data.

"… Yeah," Dipper said, "I think you do."

Evading both the Strikerborg and Stingerborg, Shego landed back on the pool deck and stopped when she saw Misao and her light show of an armor. "What the heck is this?"

She looked towards Kombat Knat. "Hey! Don't just stand there looking gruesome, we need to go!"

The light that had been in front of her, was now behind her, and Shego turned to see Misao standing on the railing that separated the pool deck and the backyard. She was staring directly at her, the black and blue dye that colored her hair draining away slowly, leaving it white at the roots.

Down in the backyard, Stingerborg and Strikerborg both gave a start at how abruptly Misao appeared.

Click to shrink...

CC: Curious, her hair is whitening?

Milly: Kinda reminds me of this old anime called Slayers. That happened to the main character when....

Milly: Uh oh.

Rakshata: I must have the data on this! Think of the advancements for SCIENCE! *_*

Shego, after a moment of surprise, smirked and lunged forward to swing an energy laden blow at Misao. In an instant she was within arm's reach, but right as her hand reached Misao, the girl was suddenly just beyond it, even the trail of her energy not coming close.

The villainess gawped in surprise, but undeterred moved forward and swung at Misao again, this time with a left. Misao was again out of her reach.

Now she was confused. She hadn't seen the girl move to defend herself or evade. "How are you…?"

She quickly lashed out again, this time with a kick, but again it fell short of Misao.

It was when she drew her leg back, that Shego noticed two things that made her blood run cold.

First. Misao had not moved from the spot she had first appeared in.

Second. Shego had not moved from the spot she'd attacked Misao from.

Quickly, Shego looked Misao over, trying to figure out what was going on–and right away her eyes locked onto the dye evaporating from her hair, leaving white in its wake. It was several inches longer, but still moving at the same slow rate she had first noticed.

Shego blanched. "… Wait…"

With ferocity she attacked, and once more her attacks failed to reach Misao. Again, Misao did not move, and neither did Shego.

Kim tilted her head to the side as she watched Shego fight in place, swinging at Misao like she'd developed a very acute case of near-sightedness. "… Shego…?"

Marco and Jackie were similarly stumped by the villain's sudden passion for shadow boxing.

"Now I am even more confused," Marco admitted.

Panting heavily as she stopped, Shego focused her attention on Misao's hair. More of it was white than it should've been in the few moments she attacked her, but it was still changing at the same rate.

What was happening became starkly clear to Shego.

With a knowing look, Misao nodded. "Give up."

Shego put her hands up. "I surrender."

Click to shrink...

Trollouche: *mocking laughter* Hahahahaha! What's the matter Shego? Afraid to take one step forward?

CC: Or have you yet realized the trap you're in? The terror that surrounds you and could snuff you out at. any. given. moment.

Trollouche: To advance is to cross the line of death. You cannot even perceive the manner of your defeat. Choose your next move carefully, the clock is ticking.

Kombat Knat, seeing his radiance in danger, ground his teeth together. The hateful light coming from the girl, trying to pull him from his radiance, it would not stand. He would not allow it.

Her glow would not be outshone by another, he would die bathed in her light.

"YOU WILL NOT OUTSHINE MY RADIANCE!"

Misao turned her attention to Kombat Knat as he yelled his war cry and lunged towards her. Her scowl deepened into a glower, as she looked at his widely-opened maw and what those teeth had threatened just a moment ago.

The wings of the armor began to glow brighter, as Kombat Knat neared.

And in the next instant, a halo of light appeared above the town of Echo Creek, briefly lighting the night sky.

Click to shrink...

Zero: 消えろ！ (DISAPPEAR!)

Stingerborg answered first. "Yeah, we're okay, but… Kombat Knat is gone."

"Wait, gone? Did he shrink?"

"No," Stingerborg answered, "He's just not here."

Strikerborg scanned the area. "He didn't shrink down, he just vanished."

Lowering her guard after Kombat Knat blinked out of existence, Kim looked around. "What happened to the creepy bug monster?"

"You got me, but if he's gone, he's gone," Marco said before calling to Misao. "Uhh… Misao? Are you okay?"

"And what happened to your hair?!" Star asked.

Misao brought up a few strands and examined them. Her hair, from root to tip, was completely white.

Click to shrink...

Kallen: What. The. Fuck. Was. That?!

Trollouche: Dust is dust.

Kallen: *holds Lulu by the lapels of his jacket* Explain this shit, you jackass!

Trollouche: *chuckling*

Kallen: What's the joke, what's the fucking joke?!

Trollouche: She is. It's absurdity made manifest!

Trollouche: The most unassuming and harmless looking person of the echo creek kids, was the one everyone should have been wary of from the start!

Trollouche: Hahahahahaha, the greatest danger was always hiding in plain sight!

Kallen: ......... *suddenly realizes what just happened* ........Holy fuck.

Trollouche: Ahh, now you get it. Dust is dust, when faced with something beyond it's ability to comprehend.

Turning to her, Misao beamed, and the armor just dissolved away, leaving her in her clothes she'd been wearing prior. Then she leaped into Mabel's arms joyfully.

"Mein liebe!"

Mabel sagged in relief and cuddled Misao close. "Oh good, I was worried for a second. Suddenly you had armor, and Shego was shadowboxing you, then that monster just disappeared and I'm like whaaaaaaaa?"

Burying her face in her chest, Misao just shook her head. "It's… okay. It's so very okay… I am exhausted… and I will explain after I've slept for the next two hundred years."

She hugged Mabel tighter, and the taller girl began to stroke her now white hair.

"Okay… just stay here where it's safe."

"I don't think I've ever felt safer."

Mabel giggled and nuzzled the top of her head.

Star, like a blur, ran up to and hugged them both. "Challenge accepted!"

Without hesitation, Mabel and Misao welcomed her into their embrace, with Misao agreeing. "Ja, thank you so much, Star. You fought so bravely."

Jackie joined the hug, followed by Marco, and Misao sniffled. "You did all this for me… it's almost too much."

Strikerborg, made it onto the deck with Stingerborg and walked over to the group with Hunterborg–but didn't make the hug awkward with their heavy armor.

"Of course, we did it for you," Strikerborg said. "You're our friend."

Click to shrink...

Kallen: ......So that's it? Nobody is going to comment or ask anything?

Trollouche: Doesn't look like it.

Kallen: ARE YOU KIDDING ME?!

CC: Tsundere-chan, let it go.

Kallen: Like hell! What the hell is this bullshit?! She pulls out something completely out of context and erases Kombat Knat, and NOBODY is going to ask what the fuck that that was?!

Milly: Noooope. Because it's not important to them. :3

Kallen: *is incredulous at this shit*

Nunnally: Kallen, can't you just be happy they saved their friend? :slight_smile:

Kallen: *slowly facepalms*, groaning I am getting so many Lelouch vibes off her right now. ¬_¬

Trollouche: What the fuck did I do-

Kallen: BECAUSE SHE'S JUST LIKE YOU IN HOW YOU KEEP EVERYTHING FUCKING SECRET!

Nunnally: *pulls Kallen's ear* Kallen, please. Let them enjoy the moment of the battle being over and their friend safe.

Kallen: *grumbles and sits down* Fiiiine. Can't really blame them for being happy.

Kallen: But I'm still right about her being suspicious like a certain purpled eyed jackass I know. ¬_¬

Shego, still not resisting, just patiently allowed Kim to cuff her hands together with a pair of heavy, hand-encasing shackles that sent a disruptive surge of energy through her and nullified her powers. She wasn't even paying attention to Kim, just staring at the two hugging friends.

"So…?" Kim asked.

"So what?" Shego asked.

"Why suddenly so agreeable?"

Shego finally paid her a glance, and smirked. "If you have to ask, I'll never tell."

Kim rolled her eyes. "Figures."

Click to shrink...

Trollouche: Yeahhh, Kim would never believe it. It's something you have to experience to understand.

Kallen: Hell, I only barely believe it after connecting the dots. >_<

"We had a tracking device on her!" Mabel revealed.

Junior stared at Mabel, blinking. "I checked her for devices, I removed all of them!"

"And you were thorough," Misao commended. "You missed a secret compartment, however."

With that, Mabel reached into the cleavage created by Misao's shirt, and pulled out her cell phone. "Victoria's Secret compartment."

Junior's mouth fell agape, as he stared at Mabel's phone, then at Misao's chest, then abruptly at Mabel's face.

"I never would've looked there."

The girls all burst into loud peals of laughter. Marco, his face red, averted his eyes from Misao and Mabel while Star gently petted him atop his head in consolation. Ron rolled his eyes, as the girls all enjoyed their inside joke.

Click to shrink...

Milly: *rolling on the floor laughing*

CC: *laughing like a hyena*

Leloucia: Oh ho ho ho ho ho!

Kallen: Hah! Now that's funny!

Junior, grimacing, just shook his head. "Mierda…"

Shego, however, was surprisingly forgiving of Junior's screw up. "Hey, it's okay. You're not that guy, SSJ."

Junior looked over at her. "Oh?"

"You never would've looked there, and I'd have taken your hand off if you reached in. Learn from your mistakes and do better. Maybe have an EMP device set up to fry any electronics…"

"Or a faraday cage?" Junior suggested.

Shego brightened. "Yeah, perfect. A little pricey, but they pay for themselves quick."

Click to shrink...

Trollouche: True, reaching into a lady's cleavage is a bit uncouth. But! There is another solution.

CC: Oh?

Trollouche: Hold her upside down by her ankles, shake till something falls out. :smile:

Kallen: How the fuck is that better??

Trollouche: What? She's not being groped or molested?

Milly: I swear to god you have no sense of shame, Lulu. raised eyebrow

Trollouche; Oh come on! I am all about equality of the sexes. I just don't give lip service to putting women on a pedestal.

Trollouche: Worst case scenario, I'd have Bitch Tornado pat her down and do a cleavage check.

CC: And Victoria's other secret compartment? :3

Trollouche: .......If she's actually hiding something there? Then she earned the victory. sweatdrop Even I'm not willing to do that kind of check.

"WHAT THE ACTUAL FUCK?!" He held his hands towards his damaged fire pit, then towards the pool deck, then to his chewed-up lawn riddled with wrecked Unmanned Gears and Beetleborg AVs.

"YOU TRASHED MY HOUSE!"

Marco answered quickly. "And?"

Trip focused all of his hatred on Marco. "Oh no… don't you fucking start."

In Dipper's stead, Marco would clap back with all his might. "No need to worry, we're done."

He began to hyperventilate. "You… you…"

Staring at the group who invaded his home, shaking, tears began to well in his eyes before he erupted.

"… WHAT THE HELL IS WRONG WITH YOU PEOPLE?!"

He pointed back and forth between them. "You… whatever you want… you just do whatever the FUCK you want, and you act like there are no consequences for you! You're fucking POOR! You're fucking LOSERS!"

Click to shrink...

CC: Hmm? You're still here?

Trollouche: I'm amazed he has such poor survival instincts.

Nunnally: Oh dear, I'm sorry. You're not very smart, are you? *sweatdrop*

Leloucia: The hilarious part is that he was enamoured with Turdina.....*cringes* Gods be damned, why? Why did Marco come up with such an absolutely terrible name?? *facepalms*

Tamaki: The fuck is this asshat going on about being rich? He's not a noble, he just has money. *raised eyebrow*

Kallen: Some people think money makes them god.

Ron recognized him. "Hey, that's the kid Dipper punched in that video."

Marco gave Ron a sidelong look. "Would you believe that he is still angry over that?"

"It's why we're even here," Stingerborg lamented.

Trip screeched. "DON'T TALK LIKE I'M NOT HERE! DOES IT EVEN FUCKING MATTER THAT I CAN HAVE YOU ALL KILLED IN AN INSTANT?! YOUR FAMILIES?! EVERYONE YOU KNOW?!"

Kim turned to the others. "What is wrong with him?"

Strikerborg answered. "He's well along in a mental breakdown."

Star piped in. "It really is like Jeremy Birnbaum…"

He slammed his hands onto his chest. "I'M TRIP VANDERHOFF, MOTHERFUCKERS! I'M A FUCKING MILLIONAIRE! OUR FAMILY OWNS HALF THIS TOWN! I OWN HOUSES IN LAS VEGAS! IN BRAZIL! IN FUCKING WASHINGTON DC! MY DAD COULD GO TO THE WHITE HOUSE AND HAVE YOU ALL LABELED AS TERRORISTS!"

Mabel walked over to him.

"THE ONLY REASON YOU EVEN GET TO KNOW ME IS BECAUSE I CAME TO YOUR POOR ASS PUBLIC SCHOOL SO YOU COULD SEE WHAT A REAL HUMAN BEING LOOKS LIKE!"

Click to shrink...

Kallen: Wait, really? That's it?

Milly: Yeah, he got pissed off because he got caught on tape being punched for being a dipshit.

Rivalz: Affluenza ahoy huh.

Rivalz: I may not be nobility, but even I know that you don't make threats like this unless you're prepared for the consequences.

Milly: Yep. This guy wouldn't even rate as a baron. And even if he was higher?

Milly: The amount of shit he's stirring up is enough to get his ass disinherited.

Trollouche: Blood feud it is!

He stopped for a moment, breathing heavily, sweat and tears pouring down his face, before he shrieked at Mabel.

"YOU'RE NOTHING! YOU'RE NO ONE! YOU WILL NEVER HAVE ANYTHING I HAVE BUT YOU KEEP ACTING LIKE YOU'RE FUCKING PEO–"

Taking him by the shoulder, she punched Trip in the stomach, and the boy collapsed to the ground, squealing and bawling like a horse with a broken leg.

She stared down at him as he curled up into a sobbing ball and shook her head. "It's about time you stopped trippin'."

With that she turned to walk back over but stopped when she saw Van standing in the doorway, hesitantly.

Extending her hand, Mabel gestured to him. "Do you want any?"

Van just shook his head no.

Mabel smiled, and walked back over to the group. "I thought so."

"This is the guy who bullied me since I met him," Stingerborg said quietly as Trip sobbed and whimpered.

Ron looked at the Blue armored hero. "What does someone have to do to have a kid turn out like this?"

Jackie answered him. "Everything wrong."

Marco nodded in agreement.

Star sighed. "I don't think he's ever been hugged."

Stingerborg cut deeper than his blade ever could. "Look at that guy, and tell me with a straight face there was ever anyone who wanted to?"

As Misao embraced Mabel again, the taller girl did give Trip a quick look back, then just shook her head no.

Click to shrink...

*C&G crew golf clap*

Rivalz: He had it coming.

Rivalz: Also, nice one liner!

Kallen: One punch? Really? *shakes her head in disgust* What a little bitch.

Milly: Surprising that the older brother is smart enough to know how badly they screwed up. :3

Nunnally: I feel sorry for him. Everyone should know what a hug is like.

The sound of cars pulling into the Vanderhoffs' driveway caught everyone's attention. A dark SUV followed by a sedan, and another dark SUV pulled in and parked in plain view of the pool. From the two SUVs emerged a half-dozen men in black not unlike Brittney's guard detail for the dance–armed with submachine guns and wearing dark sunglasses at night. Two more such men exited the front of the sedan, but from the back emerged two women.

As the men with guns spread out and began to secure the premises, the two women walked through the hole in the wall the Blue Stinger AV made and past the wrecked Fenrir to make their way up onto the deck. Coming to a stop in front of the group of teenagers and the captured villains, the smaller woman–barely taller than Misao–stepped forward.

On closer inspection, everyone realized she was identical to Misao in almost every way, apart from being slenderly built as Star or Kim and having short black hair and dark eyes. Looking back and forth between the group, she nodded in greeting.

"So… you are the people who have been protecting Misao," she said.

Trip looked up at the woman, while Van blanched and took several steps back. The kids all looked at one another and back to her as she continued.

"Before anything else, please…"

The woman bowed deeply to them.

"From the bottom of my heart, thank you for everything that you've done. Without asking and without reward, you placed yourself at great risk to take care of her, and I do not think enough gratitude exists for that."

She stood upright and introduced herself. "My name is Momiji Hyuuga, and I am her mother."

Click to shrink...

CC: Oh my, is that the sound of impending doom I hear? :3

Rivalz: Bets on how pissed Momma Hyuuga is?

Milly: No bet.

Momiji greeted them. "Hello, Dipper, Janna. That's almost everyone… where's your Grandfather?"

Hauling the Schwanzstucker over his shoulder with one hand, with Waddles trotting alongside him, Shermie arrived onto the pool deck and walked over to the group gathered by the fire pit. "Right here. Good to see you again, Maple! It's been what, 15 years? You look great."

Momiji's eyebrows rose. "And you look… alive, no offense. A man your age being in such… shape."

Marco gawked for a moment at Shermie just lugging around an anti-tank rifle like it was nothing, then spoke up. "Uhh… kind of an understatement."

Jackie whispered to Mabel. "… Is it okay if I think your grandfather looks kinda cool?"

Mabel remained cheerful. "I don't wanna answer that."

Star kept her questions to herself, while Misao and Kim both coughed in unison.

Luckily Waddles trotted up to Mabel's feet to change the subject. "Oh, look, it's my little man!"

Snorting in greeting, Waddles gracelessly stood up on his hindlegs to be picked up. Before Mabel could, Misao immediately scooped him up and hugged him close.

Momiji stared at Waddles, surprised. "… Ah… a pig?"

"His name is Waddles," Mabel said as she patted his side. "And he's an angel."

Click to shrink...

CC: I do enjoy older men, and he is a fine specimen for his age. :3

Milly: Definitely a silver fox.

Nunnally: I understand and feel Mabel's pain right now. *strained smile*

As everyone's attention turned to Kim, she explained. "The Magnavores are just cosplay villains… and you guys are cosplay heroes taking care of them."

"Oh yeah!" Star said, before she turned to Shego. "You said that cosplay villains are pretty cringe, right?"

"Extremely," Shego replied.

Junior had to agree. "It is awkward whenever a supervillain or superhero appears dressed up as someone fictional."

Shego continued. "It's especially weird when they expect you to play along–like this is a LARP or something."

Strikerborg shivered. "Eugh, just hearing you describe it like that makes me cringe."

Turning to Mabel, Shermie asked. "I'm not too caught up on this new lingo, how bad is this 'cringe', girlchik?"

Mabel sighed explosively. "It is the worst, Sherpa. When you're cringe, you're causing people to have secondhand embarrassment for you. You never want to be cringe, you want to be based."

"And that's no problem for you," Misao added. "You are very based, Sherpa."

"Not too sure what that one is either, but if you gals think it's swell, then I am happy to be the basest guy around. It's like hip, right?"

Click to shrink...

Milly: Wow, that sounds so fucking stupid.

Milly: Supervillainy, ok. But just wearing the costumes and fighting an actual villain/hero with no abilities and expecting them to play along? Seems like a fast way to get to the emergency room.

Mabel gave her Sherpa a hard look. "We'll sort it out after we finish establishing the new status quo."

"Avoiding the subject of based vs. cringe," Kim said.

"Which in of itself is kind of cringe," Strikerborg chirped.

Kim gave Strikerborg a sharp look not-unlike Mabel's to Shermie. "Most people will just write off the cosplay fights as a bunch of nerds slap-fighting, and not actually a struggle for the fate of existence."

Shego did a double take. "Hold-up–"

Curtly Momiji nodded to a guard. "Gag her."

One of the bodyguards immediately slapped a wad of very sticky tape over Shego's lips. Indignantly and impotently, she bristled.

Click to shrink...

CC: I think his lingo is fine personally.

Milly: You are the definition of out of touch in some ways, CC.

CC: Considering how bad modern slang is? I'll take that as a compliment.

Trollouche: head desking Op-sec motherfucker, DO YOU SPEAK IT?!

Turning his attention back to Momiji, he quickly spoke. "Please, it was… it was all a joke… a prank, right? We–"

"No," Momiji said sharply, cutting him off. "My daughter cloned your brother's phone. I've read every message you and your brother sent back and forth to the people you were hiring to torment 'Pine Tree', his sister, and 'the fat foreign chick.'"

Trip blanched and shrank away from her.

"Though we have a distant and complicated relationship, Misao is still my daughter, and I love and cherish her deeply," Momiji informed the brothers. "In fact, the main reason we have such an arrangement, is because my greatest fear is that my business and reputation will cause people who wish me harm to harm her."

Despite being a full head shorter than Van, she seemed to loom over both brothers in presence. "It has happened before, and the people who attempted did not live to regret it."

Van visibly flinched, while Trip whimpered and shut his eyes tightly in terror.

"Sadly, for you, you will."

Click to shrink...

CC: How does that expression go? Oh yes. S.O.L.

Rivalz: Shit out of luck huh. Seems like it. :3

Kaguya: Oh it's about to get worse. n_n

"Here's what's going to happen: Your father, Thaddeus Vanderhoff II is going to wake up in his hotel and find that his credit cards have been canceled, his bank accounts emptied and closed, his business shut down and sold, and all of his personal property sold off."

Trip collapsed onto his backside. "… What?"

Mabel whispered to Dipper. "… Thaddeus?"

Dipper whispered back. "I think that's worse than mine…"

"Everything he owns–and by extension everything you own–is now property of several shell companies owned by Hyuuga Heavy Industries that will soon vanish into the aether themselves when their purpose is complete. The property that Zoom Comics currently occupies, for example, has already been paid off and signed over to Nano Williams. The trust funds with your respective names for them, have been similarly signed off on and the money dumped into numerous charities all in yours and your father's names."

She opened her hand to them. "That is not all. As I speak, efforts are being completed to remove you from pertinent legal documents relative to the state of California and the United States of America. You are penniless, landless, and by the sunrise you will be nameless."

Van, still looking down, murmured. "… Even our names…"

Trip's glasses slipped from his nose, as the totality of what he'd been told sank in. "… Why?"

Momiji looked down her nose at him.

"Because no one is above facing the consequences for their actions."

Click to shrink...

Leloucia: *demon queen laugh*

CC: *evil witch laugh*

Kaguya: *loli ojou laugh*

Leloucia: Behold, Damnatio Memoriae!

CC: An ancient roman concept, "condemnation of memory."

CC: It means purging someone from official records and all memory of them is to be accursed.

With a curt nod towards the fate of the brothers, Shermie walked over and ruffled up Mabel and Dipper's respective hair. "Honestly, it's better than what I woulda done to them. Nobody messes with my grandkids."

A scary gleam filled Shermie's glasses, obscuring his eyes. "Nobody."

Jackie, still looking at the massive gun, nodded. "Yeah, I'm actually surprised you didn't make their heads explode with that thing when you had the shot."

The gleam was still there as Shermie whispered back. "What makes you think I wasn't tempted?"

Ron turned to Kim. "Uh KP, is letting them do this okay? I think this is way outside of our general moral compass."

Rocking her head from side to side, Kim shrugged her shoulders. "The way I see it; they so weren't going to stop until somebody died. If this is how they wanna deal with it, then… okay?"

"Kim, that's not very lawful good."

Kim wagged her hand. "Neutral good… lawful neutral…?"

Misao turned her attention to Ron. "If someone messed with your friend like that, what would you do?"

Ron opened his mouth to answer, and the words almost spilled out. "I would have a lengthy discussion about trying to hurt someone I cared about. I'm more of a lover, than a fighter–or whatever THAT was."

The ominous presence permeating Shermie vanished as he chuckled. "I just hope you never have to worry about something happening to you and your paramour here."

Click to shrink...

Trollouche: Careful what you wish for, Mr. Sherman. You just might get it.

Kallen: Honestly, putting a bullet in these two might have been kinder. And yeah, if someone put a head on somebody I cared about, I'd be gunning for their ass too. ¬_¬

Kaguya: Lawful good?

Leloucia: D&D term. It's a term describing moral alignment. It's not an absolute thing. For example, I'm lawful neutral, CC is true neutral, Milly is chaotic good, etc.

Kim gestured to Ron. "We're best friends…"

Ron finished. "… But we've never been like that, no. As a matter of fact, she's not here, but I have a girlfriend. And KP's got her own boyfriend."

The other kids stared in surprise at Kim and Ron.

They both stared back.

"What?" Kim asked.

Jackie looked stricken. "… My ship…"

Mabel pouted at Ron, sniffling. "You're not single…?"

Hunterborg hung his head. "Damn, that's what they meant by never meet your heroes."

Dipper gingerly put it forward to the human members of Team Possible. "Honestly? We all kinda thought that you were… um…"

Click to shrink...

Milly: *sniffles* The fate of a ship sunk. So sad.

Rivalz: I mean, I kinda thought they were a thing too.

Kaguya: So, who's the boyfriend?

Milly: Not a clue. Probably someone who doesn't want to get kidnapped as "hostage for Kim Possible #26"

Ron gestured to them. "See? That makes sense."

Kim could not accept that. "What? When?!"

She looked between Marco and Jackie. "What about Jarco?!"

Star gasped in excitement. "Ohmygoshshewatchesmyvlog."

Junior piped up. "It's very good. Please update it more?"

Jackie was similarly starstruck. "Oh my gosh, Kim Possible ships me with Marco."

She turned and looked at Marco and Star. "… OT3?"

Marco paled. "Stop playing!"

"Who said anything about playing?" Janna suggested.

Pointing at her, Marco quickly answered. "By way of you implying anything as real, I know it to be a lie!"

Janna chuckled mischievously; Jackie shot a muted glare at her.

Star, however, looked rather thoughtful.

Click to shrink...

CC: Oh ho ho ho! It sounds like Kim Possible gave her an idea!

Nunnally: Oh I do hope she follows up, they look so cute together.

Milly: A triad isn't the hardest relationship to do, just gotta be honest about expectations.

Jackie chimed in. "Oh no, they're cool, now."

"They are?" Drew asked, as Marco rolled his eyes.

"Believe it or not, Jackie cut a deal with them," he said. "They promised they won't try to kill us as long as she remains their 'connection.'"

A chorus of "Ohhs" resounded, and Marco blanched.

"Wait, does everybody know about the weed?" He asked the others.

Hunterborg nodded. "Yeah, bruh, her family owns the only dispensary in Echo Creek. My parents buy from them all the time."

"Yeah," Strikerborg said.

"You didn't know?" Stingerborg asked him in turn.

"… Not until Saturday," Marco admitted.

Misao chimed in. "I have yet to partake, but Sherman Farm is her distributor, so I know it's good."

Click to shrink...

Trollouche: Better living through herbal chemistry.

Kaguya: One dispensary for a city that size? Surprising.

CC: Thinking of ordering from Sherman Farms, asshole? :3

Trollouche: If they could deliver to us, I would.

Walking up to her, Momiji embraced her daughter. "Well, I won't keep you from your new home any longer. There is still much to be done here, and I need to get this back to HHI."

As she pulled back, she held the necklace Señor Senior Junior placed on her.

Looking at the necklace, Mabel spoke up. "That thing that Señor Senior Junior put on her, what is it?"

Ron was curious as well. "… And why did it have a super cool armor in it?"

Kim grew curious. "Is it something like Project Centurion? Why did he put it on her?"

Momiji looked at the necklace, and then at the group. "To answer what it is, this is a weapon called Type-0. My company is developing it for dealing with things like the Magnavores… and worse. As for why he put it on her…?"

Momiji turned to Junior, who looked away. Shego went stiff and stared at Junior wide-eyed.

"I did not know what it would do," he admitted, "I put it on her to find out what exactly what the weapon was… I did not realize it could do that."

Click to shrink...

Kallen: The million yen question.

Rakshata: I can understand the desire to understand it, but I believe a scientist could have gleamed more from that than someone like him could.

Trollouche: Who dares wins. Was it worth, Mr Senor Senior Junior? :3 He's lying btw.

CC: Oh?

Trollouche: That isn't what he said when he put the device on her.

CC: So he did know something.

Kallen: So why is he lying now?

Trollouche: The other million yen question.

Watching Shermie's white SUV pull out of sight, Reiko looked down at Momiji. "So… now that she's used it, do you suppose she's awakened?"

"I could tell the moment we spoke to one another."

Momiji shut her eyes and let a smile grace her lips. "I don't think this has happened before, where she's been with people like this… I hope this is a good sign."

Click to shrink...

CC: Hmm.

Trollouche: Shilling for your thoughts?

CC: Just a feeling. That the winds of destiny may have just changed. :3

 

[The Ero-Sennin]

The following represents an unfinished scene and may be altered or dropped at a later time. Thanks for reading!

Warning: Good ol' fashioned turn of the 20th Century cultural mores.

---

|Echo Creek, 1899|​

In 1847, a caravan of California-bound settlers led by Bonson Bonner descended into a valley northeast of Los Angeles following word of another party of California settlers being devastated by poor preparation and a particularly cruel winter while trying to find their fortunes further north. With this decision, some clever dealings, back-stabbings that would make the Northwest family proud, and a battle against some extremely determined marsupials, the settlement of Echo Creek was established.

For the next few decades, Echo Creek would grow and flourish, going from a small settlement to a prosperous rival of neighboring Los Angeles in short order. A pastoral town centered around ranches and vineyards. Echo Creek became known for being a restful retreat for visitors back east–a place where one could relax and find peace from the hectic world at their own pace.

Then, in 1890, Oil was discovered.

By 1899, the vast stretches of rolling cattle land and rows of vineyards that one could look on from the slope of the valley were gone–replaced by a forest of iron and steel wreathed in the haze of industry. Echo Creek was all but no more, a cloistered city center surrounded by oil derricks and pumps, siphoning the vast reserves of black gold that lay beneath the Earth.

The nascent Southern California oil boom has made Echo Creek extremely prosperous. But even as wealth is pulled straight from the Earth and into pockets, the ravenous need to overflow every cup has seen the aforementioned forest of metal spread. It climbs the hills–spreading into neighboring lowlands and valleys of the San Gabriels. To the remaining farmers and vinters in Echo Creek, the growing forest approaching the edges of their lands is an inevitable progression–heralded by an inexorable force that would sooner see fertile grounds turn to worthless dust if it meant one drop more of the bounty beneath.

Three such heralds stood on the other side of a plain wooden fence separating them from the front yard of a farmhouse overlooking the encroaching forest. In the afternoon heat, the men were dressed in loose white button down shirts, blue jeans, boots, and wide-brimmed hats iconic of the formerly wild west. The leader of the men, holding a stack of papers in his hand, held them aloft like a flag of truce–displaying it to the man who stood on the porch armed with a double-barrel shotgun.

"Now Mr. Baldwin, there is no need for any of this hostility. We're only here to persuade you to consider the handsome offer that's been presented."

The bare-chested, bearded man on the front porch of his home closed the breech of his loaded shotgun, and answered promptly–his voice heavy with contempt. "Handsome offer?! You boys come here demanding I accept not even half of what my pappy paid for this land, just so I can watch my family starve while you oil jockeys get rich?! I'll tell you what, you can take that offer of yours and see if the Devil himself will take it! Then you come back to me!"

The man holding the papers raised his other hand. "Whoa, whoa, whoa…! Hold on there, sir! This does not have to resort to violence!"

"You come past that fence and I'll have every right to!" Mr. Baldwin raised the shotgun and aimed at the three men, everyone involved aware that at this range all he would have to do is squeeze the triggers of his weapon to solve most of his problems. "I'll leave you right where you fall so the Sheriff knows it!"

The two men accompanying the paper holder went to their left sides. The man to the negotiator's right reached straight down with his left hand, while the man to his left reached across his own front, to shiny revolvers nestled none too snugly in their holsters. Seeing this, the man holding the papers called out. "Hold, damn it!"

He looked back at Mr. Baldwin. "We don't need to start somethin' unavoidable, gentlemen. Cycles of violence happen when you shoot one man, then another man shoots back, and the shooting goes on until something truly tragic happens and a family loses everything."

Mr. Baldwin narrowed his eyes at the negotiator's word, understanding full well their intent.

"This can all be resolved peacefully-like; you can take the offer, we can leave, and we won't have to come back." The man shook the papers again. "It's either that, or these tense and meaningless confrontations keep happening, sir, until someone slips and does something they can't take back."

"I'm plenty firm where I stand," Mr. Baldwin replied. "The only ones here having a problem with slippin' are you boys with the oil on yer shoes and blood on yer hands."

Lowering the papers, the man trying to negotiate realized that terms would not be arrived at so easily. "This is the best deal you're going to get, sir."

Mr. Baldwin's attention shot past the three men and to the path behind them as his opponent drawled on.

"Men with less land than you have made much more agreeing to close, it's a seller's market."

Behind the three men, the voice of a young man called back. "A seller's market? Oh Mr. Hutchinson, do go on."

The men beseeching Mr. Baldwin turned to face a caucasian man with a dark goatee and mustache calmly stepping off a bicycle and setting it against the fence bordering the path up to the home. In spite of the afternoon heat he was impeccably dressed in a purple suit over an orange vest and a yellow ascot tie with purple top hat. He carried in his hand a cane he slipped from a basket aligned with the legs of the bicycle's front fork. Twirling the cane and setting it down, he began a leisurely stroll to the three men, beckoning them as he did.

"As a matter of fact, I would like an appraisal of my own land while you're in the neighborhood. Because I've heard that you've–" He stopped when he saw Mr. Baldwin on his porch, and recoiled a full step back, his dark eyes widening in amazement.

"My word," the newcomer addressed the man he called Hutchinson, holding the papers. "Are… are you shaking down a white man?"

Hutchinson glowered at the newcomer. "Well if it isn't the alleged Doctor. This ain't a matter involvin' you, son. Why don't you hop on your fancy bicycle and mosey off to where you came?"

The newcomer shook his head. "I'm afraid I'm here for an appointment. Mrs. Baldwin is several months along and I'm here to perform a weekly checkup."

"The hell you are," Hutchinson replied. "A sane man wouldn't trust a snake like you with a haircut, let alone his wife and child."

The man in purple brought a white gloved hand to his chest, as though in pain. "Don't besmirch my handiness with a blade either. I've cut plenty handsome heads of hair in my time, and guarantee you won't find a closer shave west of the Mississippi or south of Skagway–but I digress."

He gestured past the men to Mr. Baldwin, and then side to side, indicating the farmer's land. "I was under the impression that your employer was more discriminating when it came to land acquisition. Are you genuinely out here going back on what I recall was… your word?"

Hutchinson's glower intensified. "This is strictly business, it's something a new resident like you wouldn't understand."

"Oh, my disciplines are wide and varied, Mr. Hutchinson. I'm no stranger to the 'You and Yours Discount.'"

"You and Yours?" Hutchinson repeats.

"You and Yours. A buyer offers to take the land from you at a lower price than what it's actually worth… one you accept so that nothing happens to you and yours."

He looked to his right, at the derricks off in the distance. "I've lived here in these parts long enough to see it as the standard model of business. Except, it would appear your employer is all out of Mestizo and Tongva to force off their lands, so they've gone after the white growers and herders. I applaud the progressive shift, but it's no less abominable."

Hutchinson's left eye twitched. "Good God man, you talk too much."

The newcomer walked right up to the three men, his lips curved up in an amicable smile. "Sirs, I am a man of confidence, it is my nature to talk a great deal."

Seeing hands moving to revolvers, he stops short and brings up his left in a halting gesture. "With that in mind, I would like to make a counteroffer on behalf of Mr. Baldwin here."

Hutchinson rolled his eyes. "You're no one's representative, Hill–"

It all happened suddenly, explosively. The cane in the newcomer's right hand came up and smashed into the chin of the man on Hutchinson's left. The man on his right reached across for his revolver, but found it already snatched clean from the holster by the newcomer's white gloved hand. Hutchinson himself dropped his papers, for the pistol in the shoulder holster he wore, when the glint of sun off steel stayed his hand.

The cane clattered to the ground, and Hutchinson looked at the slender, razor-sharp knife that slipped from the purple sleeve of the man's suit.

Underneath the brim of the man in purple's top hat, a cold and level voice calmly intoned. "You'll pass on the closest shave of your life, Mr. Hutchinson, take your man I've dinged good, and you'll leave these fine people alone."

Hutchinson, persuaded by the metal against his jugular and the man to his right holding his hands up in quiet fear, slowly nodded.

Dropping the knife, the man in black pulled the pistol from Hutchinson's holster and gave it a look in surprise. It wasn't a revolver, nor was it one of the unmistakable Mausers that were becoming popular back east. It was a black, slide-operated semi-automatic pistol with the magazine stored in the handle. "Good God man, how much are you being paid to afford one of these Brownings?"

Stepping aside, he gestured to the two men with both guns as he used his foot to slip the revolver of the downed man from its holster and kick it away. "Go on now, be on your way and don't let me find out that your employer has sent anyone else up this hill to start persting people for their homes."

Hutchinson glared at the man, as he and his remaining associate complied, gathering up the third man and leaving. "Don't you worry, none! We'll be coming straight for you, Hillhurst! You'll see!"

Dr. Aloysius Hillhurst watched the three men go staggering off, headed towards several horses tied up at the very edge of the property. Satisfied to see them go, and doubly sure his coat was well-lined with the ammunition of the heavier weapons the men kept on said horses, he turned towards the Baldwin farmhouse.

And stared at the barrels of the Baldwin farmhouse's shotgun. "… Well."

Mr. Baldwin gestured with a quick upward motion of his barrels. "You'll be on your way, too. I don't need the sympathies of no damn Mexican lover."

Putting the pistols away, Dr. Hillhurst picked up the cane and knife–slipping the latter back up his sleeve. "No good deed goes unpunished, I see. No worries, I have no intention of lingering."

Dr. Hillhurst returned to his bicycle, climbed onto it, and spared the farmer a final look before he rode off. Making sure Hutchinson and his friends were well ahead, he began coasting down the long slope from the verdant hills overlooking Echo Creek and down into the haze of the derrick forest that surrounded the town and stood on every other block.

---

Meet the man who started it all...

 

[The Ero-Sennin]

It's been a minute. A long minute. With my work on Legends resuming (including a lot more 1899 stuff), it's time for the blood to get flowing here.

= - = 7-EX = - =

|Final Result|​

"Kombat Knat has been destroyed," Vexor reported to his generals. "With that, we've lost a key asset."

The Magnavores were gathered in front of Noxic's workshop, Vexor looking at the mostly finished project with his back to his minions. "A new approach will be needed to deal with our enemies."

He turned just enough to look back and address them. "Any suggestions?"

Jara spoke first, and forcefully. "We must lure them out onto a battlefield of our choosing, where they cannot escape to their precious base or school–even if they escape the Gaohm Zone."

Typhus agreed. "This is the third time our guys showed up at that school of theirs and they pulled out some muscle or firepower that made life harder for us."

"That dump they call a base is a no go, too. Anti-Teleport, big honkin' guns, and all their kit is there too," Noxic complained.

Jara spoke. "We need a comprehensive strategy. Not merely throwing things against the wall. We need to take what we have learned from each of these encounters and use it to gain the advantage! These are children with ruinous powers at their fingertips playing at being heroes, not soldiers fighting a war, this should not be a puzzle for us!"

Vexor faced Noxic's workshop. "All of you are correct."

Noxic was surprised that he was being praised. "We are?"

Jara was given pause. "What is it?"

"This is a war, and we are warriors," Vexor began, "We've crossed swords with the Melzard Tribe and survived the attentions of Bill Cipher. Though limited in resources and clarity, we do have the advantage of experience and tenacity. Most importantly, however, we are free to prosecute this war as we see fit. To our own tune, at our own pace, and not to the convenience of the enemy."

Typhus and Noxic looked at each other, before the latter asked. "So… what, we're going to start doing stuff after they go to bed or somethin'?"

Jara understood what Vexor was getting at. "Yes, exactly that. At night while they sleep, during the day while they hide behind their pet troll. From the start of this, we have been the ones who control when a battle begins, and we must press that advantage!"

"Yeah, okay, but what if they decide to fight us anyway?" Noxic asked.

Vexor chuckled. "Then it is even better for us."

Now that part Jara was a little lost on. "What do you mean?"

Vexor gestured to Noxic's workshop. "This will be a war of attrition. And this is our weapon to win that battle."

He turned to face them. "So let them come in the night, let them break their social obligations to play hero. We will wear them down with battle after battle, and their delusions of heroism will allow them to fall exhausted at our feet."

Typhus punched his palm into his fist. "All right! Let's fight a real war! They won't know what hit them."

"You're still gonna need that order of Scabs, right, Vexor?" Noxic asked.

"They are essential to the plan." He then turned to Jara. "And this force will need a commander. One able to work in the field, independent of you."

Jara nodded. "Then we have some comics to read, there is one I have in mind for what you ask."

Vexor tilted towards Jara in a nod. "I expect nothing but good results."

@@@@@​

Sitting in the back of the Hyuuga Heavy Industries SUV, Shego worked her jaw and rubbed her face against the door to finally peel the sticky tape from her mouth. The moment it was free, she turned and looked at Señor Senior Junior, who was seated peacefully on the other end of the bench seat at the very back of the vehicle. He was wearing the nervous, goofy smile of a man hoping to not get his face bitten off but knowing he likely will.

Rather than bare her fangs to start tearing off strips of his face, she broke into a dangerous smile. "So… Junior… can you answer me a question?"

"Yes, of course," he quickly and obediently answered as two of the armed guards got into the front seats and the SUV started up.

"What…" Shego began quietly, prompting Junior to brace himself for the vocal eruption to follow. "THE FUCK?!"

Junior recoiled, pushed back just as much by the fury in her voice. "YOU HAD A LITERAL MAGIC BULLSHIT POWERED ARMOR IN YOUR BACK FUCKING POCKET, AND YOU PUT IT ON THE FUCKING HOSTAGE?!"

Junior shrank with every boiling word from her mouth. "Look! Look! Please understand, I had to do it!"

"YOU KIDNAPPED A FUCKING HYUUGA JUST TO HAND HER BACK ON A SILVER PLATE TO HER MOM, AND FOR NOTHING!"

She threw her head back against the door and its bullet-proof window.

"I HAD TO FIGHT A MAGICAL FUCKING GIRL, SSJ, DO YOU UNDERSTAND HOW BULLSHIT THAT IS?!"

When Shego didn't start screaming again after a few moments, Junior let out a sigh. "I suppose that you would not understand."

"You're right, I don't." Shego snarled. "So, enlighten me, SSJ. Why did you go through all the trouble to hunt down and kidnap Misao Darlian? If we just took that thing that you gave her, we'd be running the world instead of scores!"

Junior responded promptly. "Do you remember when I said that this was a matter of family pride?"

"It's why I've been on board with this until very recently."

He winced at the growl Shego trailed off into but maintained his composure. "Running scores is fun. It is the most fun I have ever had, and I have learned a lot from you, Shego. What I've learned has opened doors for me that my wealth alone could never, and I want to step through them."

Curiosity replaced Shego's anger. "Hold on, what are you trying to say here, exactly?"

"I am saying that by kidnapping the daughter of one of the most powerful people in the world–who can do anything up to and including taking everything a billionaire has and vanishing his children–I have proven that I am worth more than just my father's name or money."

When he put it like that, Shego couldn't be mad anymore. "You little shit, I get it now! You pulled the big one and lived."

"We pulled the big one and lived," Junior corrected her.

Shego chuckled. "Every time I think I'm going to demote you to paycheck provider, you remind me that you're the best I've worked with, SSJ. Man, now I wonder what's next for you."

Junior let out a reluctant sigh. "Sadly, you will have to wait and see."

Wariness returned, and Shego gave him a look. "Huh? No, the second I get a gap with these restraints off, we're out of here."

He shook his head. "No, I mean, this is the end of our association. From here on out, I doubt we will see each other again."

The SUV pulled to a stop, and Shego immediately noticed flashing lights outside. "Huh? Wait." She turned back to Junior. "What's going to happen to you?"

Junior shrugged his shoulders. "That's up to fate, I guess. Either way, it's been fun." He brightened. "Oh, and do not tell my father, please? You know how he gets worried about me, okay?"

The door opened, and an LA County Sheriff grabbed Shego and pulled her out of the car. "Up to fate…? Junior! I need a little bit more context?! What's going to happen to you?!" She yelled as she was dragged out of the vehicle.

She kept shouting, asking what he meant, before just calling out his name, before the closing of an armored police van's doors cut her voice off.

A few moments later, the flashing lights receded as the Sheriff's units drove away to take her to lock up. A few moments after that, the door to the SUV opened, and in climbed Momiji Hyuuga.

"I've heard stories about Shego having a good partnership with you, but hearing her actually concerned for someone else was… odd," she admitted while she closed the door and sat beside him.

Junior nodded. "She is a good teacher who values competence, innovation, and assertiveness. You don't even need to appeal to her ego, she likes if you do something she hadn't thought of."

Momiji weighed on that with a hum. "That is something I will keep in mind for later, thank you."

As Momiji buckled herself in and the SUV got moving, Junior asked. "So, what happens now?"

Momiji reached into her pocket and pulled out the strange necklace that Junior had given to Misao, and activated the armor that allowed her to defeat Kombat Knat. "You completed an impossible task, even if it did end with you being arrested. You demonstrated all the qualities needed during your trial–patience, daring, cunning, ruthlessness, restraint, and determination in the face of unwinnable odds."

"Once I knew Kim Possible was on my trail, it was certainly over," Junior admitted. "But those other guys… I did not expect them to be so aggressive!"

"If you only knew," Momiji said with a small laugh. "But you will soon enough. You'll know everything, and that will be your true final test."

Junior looked disappointed. "There is still one more thing?"

She nodded. "A simple yes or no question: Do you believe you can handle the truth of what you are becoming part of?"

Señor Senior Junior's disappointment vanished, but before the joy of success could reach him, he stopped and considered the question. "… That is a good question." Slowly he nodded. "I believe I can. I accepted this trial and every risk that came with it, the truth should be no different."

"Good answer," she said before reaching over and unlocking his handcuffs.

"Welcome to the 47, Señor Senior Junior."

@@@@@​

In the back yard of the Pines' home. Mabel opened the back yard's gate, carrying a box stacked with closed cardboard trays. "Hey, brocephalus, the food's here! Also, the Beetleborgs all made it home without a problem."

Dipper, sitting at the other end of the picnic table across from Kim, nodded to his sister. The Pines twins, Marco, Jackie, Janna, and Star were gathered with Team Possible, waiting for the victory feast that they ordered on their way back from the Vanderhoff residence. Misao was already in bed. Worn out as she was after her the day, she'd gone straight up to their room and fell asleep with Waddles in her arms, leaving everyone else to socialize as the evening deepened into night.

"Okay, Dipper and I have Steak Picado! For Kim we have a Chicken burrito," Mabel announced as she went around the table. "For Ron and Rufus, we have Tacos and Nachos, Chile Rellenos for Janna, Aguachile de Camarón for Jackie, and Nachos for Star and Marco!"

"Thanks Mabel," Dipper said as he took his tray, before he turned his attention back to Kim, Ron, and of course Rufus. "So, I wanted to say thanks again for coming to help deal with this, especially on such short notice."

"It's so no big," Kim assured him, "We do short notice all the time. Plus, I got to spend a day in LA–even if it was The Mathter causing you trouble I'd be here."

Marco chimed in. "After fighting Shego, I'm gonna say I'd rather fight the Mathter."

Star protested. "Math is way harder than fighting Shego, what are you talking about?"

Ron was in full agreement. "Yeah, Shego is just trying to kill us. Math is actual torture."

"Thank you!" Star exclaimed in vindication.

"Still," Ron then conceded, "Even if it was the Mathter, I'll come out here so I can visit the Tex-Mex Mecca… Bueno Nacho Headquarters."

At that, Marco made a face. "Oh yeah, I forgot that you like that stuff. Honestly? Bueno Nacho sucks."

Ron's mouth dropped open, as he slowly turned to stare at Marco, Rufus joining him.

Kim rolled her eyes and turned back to Dipper. "Anyway, we've actually been waiting for you to get back to us about Shego and SSJ after Mabel first gave the heads up."

"We would've gotten to you sooner, but as you saw, we've been dealing with other business." He explained.

"About that," Kim replied, "If you need our help with the Magnavores, don't hesitate to call again, they sound like bad news."

"I'll keep that in mind, you were crazy out there."

Kim preened under his praise. "Heh, thanks."

"What do you mean Bueno Nacho sucks?" Ron asked, as if Marco Diaz just insulted his family and Rufus.

"Exactly what I mean, it sucks," Marco explained.

Jackie, beside him, agreed. "It totally sucks."

Ron looked directly to his left at Star. "Tell me you've had Bueno Nacho and tell them that it doesn't suck."

"Ooh, that means Good Nacho, doesn't it?" Star asked. "I've had Bueno Nachos, made by Marco."

"Thank you," Marco said to her.

"But Bueno Nacho the restaurant? Is there even one in Echo Creek?"

"Like ten years ago, yeah," Jackie explained. "It went out of business in like a year because no one went."

"How is that possible?" Ron asked.

Janna, who was eating her chile rellenos, looked over. "Britta's Tacos kicked its butt, that's how."

"Yeah," Marco continued, "A big chain making glorified lunch food isn't competing with authentic local flavor."

Ron looked down at the cardboard container, and then turned his nose up. "Well, I'm not eating this, then."

Kim looked away from Dipper. "Ron, just eat the food."

"No, not until they stop disparaging the good name of Bueno Nacho!" Ron declared.

Kim stared at him. "You mean the same Bueno Nacho that changed the entire menu and got rid of your Naco Night discount?"

"It's a misstep on their part, but I'm still going to stand up for them!"

Janna called over. "Bueno Nacho is a multi-billion-dollar corporation. You don't need to defend its honor."

"I'm practically its Employee of the Year!" Ron retorted. "I put the Naco on the menu! I even get royalties for it… though my parents and our accountant said I can't touch it until I'm eighteen."

Dipper perked up and looked at Ron. "You're finally gotten paid for it? How much?"

"Since I get a percentage of every sale, it's about a hundred million dollars."

"WHAT?!" Dipper, Mabel, and Marco shouted at once.

"Wow, you could buy a peerage in Mewni with that cash," Star said.

Jackie was impressed and disturbed. "That many people like Bueno Nacho?"

Janna leaned over. "There's no accounting for taste, babe."

"They should be held accountable!" Marco demanded.

Ron shook his head. "I really thought we could be friends…"

Mabel, ever the benevolent, finally weighed in. "Boys! Boys! There's no need to fight over who's better, Bueno Nacho or Britta's Tacos. What matters now, is that we kicked Shego and Señor Senior Junior's butts, and have good food to celebrate."

She held up a wad of cash measured in 50s and 100s. "Good food that we didn't pay for!"

Dipper stared at the money. "Mabel, where'd you get that from?"

"I took it from Trip's bedroom just before we left, it was just lying around all willy-nilly!" She waved the money back and forth. "We don't have to worry about petty cash for the rest of the school year with this!"

Dipper figured as much. "Oh, well, okay. Hopefully there's more when we go back after the cleanup."

Ron, fine with not fighting over food, still had a lingering issue with that. "Is that okay? Just… taking their stuff?"

Dipper nodded. "Ron, even as I'm fairly certain Misao's mom is part of some huge shadowy organization that controls the world from the shadows and allows her to get away with what she did, I'm perfectly fine with what happened to Trip and Van and I'm glad we never have to deal with them again."

"This really feels like some kind of crazy dream now," Jackie admitted from where she sat between Marco and Janna. "Not only are we done with those turbo dweebs, but I got to fight Shego, too. Shego! And I did pretty good."

"You did better than me," Star grumbled, figuratively and literally sore about getting knocked out by Shego during the brawl.

Dipper looked over at Jackie as she stuffed several lime-cooked shrimps into her mouth. "Yeah, I have to say… you went really hard against her and that Goblin idiot. I wish we had you on sooner."

Jackie smiled as she swallowed her food, then replied. "It'd be nice if Marco, Star, and I could dodge like Kim or take a hit like the Beetleborgs, but I'm still ready to fight the Magnavores anytime."

Star, with a mouthful of chips, suddenly raised her hand as she tried to speak. "Ooh! Ooh! I'm working on something for that!"

Everyone turned to Star as she forced down her food, coughed, then eagerly explained. "Flabber isn't the only one who can magic up some armor and superpowers!" She placed a hand on her chest. "I am planning cool magical armor for everyone who is not a Beetleborg!"

Based solely on his own experience with Star's magic experiments, Marco felt uneasy at her declaration–but stopped short of expressing that concern out loud.

Jackie, Mabel, and Janna on the other hand, were immediately hooked, with Mabel gasping aloud. "Let me help design the armor. LET ME HELP DESIGN THE ARMOR! I HAVE SO MANY IDEAS!"

Jackie was enamored. "Dude, can I have like an ocean theme? There's a thing I wanna do with it!"

Janna hummed, and then chimed in. "I want something dark and cool. Like Raven from Teen Titans–with just as much leg on display."

"Huh," Dipper said, "You'd square up if you had armor?"

"Nah, but I would be there to look good."

Star squealed at the support she had for the effort. "I'm already working on the materials for it. According to the Magic Instruction Book, my Mom has her own armor she wears for battle, so I'm going to ask her where she got the materials from and then grab them myself."

That Marco could comment on. "Is that a good idea? Your Mom might find out what's going on."

Star dismissed it. "Pshaw. All I have to do is tell her that I'm studying at all from the book, and she won't even care about the smaller details. She'll just think I'm being more 'studious and queenly' or something."

Ron chimed in. "It's not too much to ask for something like that for us, would it?"

Kim turned to him. "Wade's already working on something, so it's no big."

At that moment, the Kimmunicator app in Kim's phone chimed and she perked up. "Speaking of…" She pulled her phone out of her pocket and brought it to her ear. "Hey Wade, what's the sitch?"

She paused and brightened even more. "Oh, hey!" She turned towards the gate leading to the driveway. "You're at the right address, come on back!"

Ending the call, she turned to the others. "I thought it was Wade, but it's just our ride."

The gate opened, and the others looked over to see a young man step through. He was tall, almost as tall as Dipper and Mabel, with the physique of a quarterback. He had a handsome face free of the ravages of puberty, slicked back neck-length brown hair, light brown eyes, and wore a blue v-neck sweater and black cargo pants.

Seeing him, Mabel, Jackie, and Star all stopped to stare at the high school heartthrob straight out of a magazine, while Janna raised an eyebrow and Dipper took note of the discrepancy of their reactions.

"Hey," he said as he let the gate close, "So you guys are the monster hunters I heard about, right?"

Kim jumped up from her spot at the table and bounded over to him, before throwing her arms around his neck and hugging him. "Babe!"

The young man laughed as he hugged her back. "Hey, Kim! I'm glad that you're safe." He looked over at Ron and Rufus. "And you guys, too. Wade told me you kicked SSJ and Shego's butts."

"Bro, you know it!" Ron replied as Rufus clasped his paws together and waved them back and forth over his head like a reigning champion.

Smiling up at the young man in adoration. Kim turned to the others. "Since he's here, let me introduce you. This is my boyfriend, Eric."

@@@@@​

In the parking lot of Echo Creek Academy the next morning, the discordant, mediocre tunes of a keytar echoed off the sides of the school and its new sports complex. Sitting on the hood of a beat up 1980s two door coupe was Oskar Greason, a young man in disheveled gray cut-off shorts, purple high-top sneakers, a brown t-shirt, and red bandana. His brown hair covered his eyes as he divided his attention between the electric green keytar he held, and the smartphone that was propped up by its case on the hood of his car beside him.

On the screen of the phone, the interior of a typical all-American suburban home could be seen. On the plain dark gray couch that was normally the center of the universe for such shows, two young African American men in plain suburban clothes were sitting.

The older of the two, in his early twenties, wearing a pair of Ray-Ban sunglasses and having long, tightly braided hair pulled up into a messy upward pointed bunch was sipping a drink. The younger brother, a high-school aged, lean young man with immaculate waves in his short cut and well-styled hair, was staring up at the ceiling of their home.

"So… what happened?" The older of the two asked.

"I asked Melissa to go to the dance with me." The younger brother replied.

"And what happened?"

"She said no–she's already going with somebody."

The older brother lowered his drink and looked at his brother. "With who?"

The younger brother shook his head. "Some foreign guy… I think she said his name was Aintcho Beeswax."

A moment hung as the older brother turned and looked at his despondent brother, the camera closing up to his face and the studio audience rumbling in amusement as he lifted up his Ray-Bans to look at his brother directly.

Oblivious to his brother's stare, the younger man sighed. "How am I gonna beat a foreign dude, man? You know how fresh their drip is."

As the older brother rolled his eyes and the studio audience laughed out loud, Oskar was right there with them, chuckling as he hit three notes on his keytar to make a "Wah, wah, waaah" sound effect.

Still laughing, Oskaar fiddled with those notes, trying to make a song out of them, before another boy walked up to him. "Yo, lil bro."

Oskar stopped and looked at the young man, a sandy-haired caucasian boy wearing–in spite of the already warm morning promising an even hotter day–black jeans, a thick black hoodie with the picture of a mustachioed man in his late 40s wearing a hard hat on its front, and a black baseball cap with a deer skull in the center.

His clothes appeared extremely damp.

Oskar stared at him before replying with a slow surfer-esque drawl. "Hey, sup?"

"You take requests?"

Oskar nodded. "Yeah, sure bro."

"Hotel California?"

Oskar thought about it. "That's like… a grandpa song. I'm more into indie-electro fantasy folk-punk."

The hoodie-wearing boy shrugged his shoulders and walked away. "Aight then, play on brother, play on."

"Word," Oskar said, almost immediately forgetting the encounter happened at all as he resumed playing.

"Oskar Greason!" Principal Skeeves yelled at him from the edge of the sports field. "Knock off that racket! The football team is trying to practice!"

Oskar looked up from his keytar and called back. "You're not my Mom, dude."

Principal Skeeves glowered at the boy, as he began to play the keytar even louder in protest. Beside him, the school's usual blonde-haired, mustachioed janitor turned to the Principal as they resumed walking. "Why do you even let him park car here?" He asked with a thick Slavic accent.

"Because I'm dating his mother," Principal Skeeves replied. "And she'd take my head off if anything happened to him while they're having their 'disagreement.'"

"What is disagreement?" The janitor asked.

"That she's dating his former High School Principal." Principal Skeeves grumbled back as they headed down along the bleachers under the school, where in addition to the sound of Oskar's keytar playing bouncing around, they could hear the echoing cries of crows in a spot up ahead. "Oh great, the crows have gotten to whatever's died back there."

A strange smell had been reported coming from this part of the sports field, just behind the bleachers. With no one willing to go near, it was down to the Principal and the Janitor to resolve the matter.

"Good thing I have gloves and bag, should be enough for a raccoon," the Janitor said before going back to the previous subject. "I did not take you for a dating man."

"It's all in how you play the game, my man," Skeeves boasted.

The janitor got a good long look at the principal. Short, wide, bespectacled, a hairline less receding and more in full rout with a bad combover of a few lines to delay the advance of age in vain. "… It must be pay to win."

Principal Skeeves gave his janitor the hardest possible look. "You're lucky you're the only janitor in this entire state who doesn't mind dealing with Star's messes."

"Mental preparation is key," the Janitor replied before they were stopped by the sudden fluttering of numerous crows startled by their arrival.

The cawing birds flew around them in every direction, scrambling to race into the sky and flee the two men shielding their faces. When the last of the crows fled, the men lowered their arms and looked into the tucked away spot behind the middle of the bleachers.

Both men stood in silent, growing horror at the sight before them. The entire alcove created by the bleachers' metal supports was splattered in dense, bright red blood. It covered the backs of the bleachers, the pillars, and almost every inch of the concrete ground. The stained remains of a human lay strewn in the splatter, the end of a right foot, a bit of organs, and the torn off remains of a skull from the eyes up lay in the mess, along with a set of broken eyeglasses.

At the end of that long, unbroken silence, beholding the gruesome mess in front of them, the Janitor spoke.

"I quit."

= - = 7-EX = - =​

Let the blood flow…

 

[The Ero-Sennin]

Holy crap, folks, we are back with Volume 8. Expect a release every Saturday and Wednesday until the completion of this Volume. Strap in guys, new enemies, new allies, and new question are coming in hot. Brace yourself as the Story of Lies reaches into the past and connects to the present in order to fight for the future.

A special warning: Several chapters of Volume 8 (and for the next several volumes) are set during a time period of extreme racial prejudice and traditionally sexist views towards both men and women. Reader discretion is advised.

= - = 8-1 = - =

|Echo Creek, 1899|​

In 1847, a caravan of California-bound settlers led by Bonson Bonner descended into a valley northeast of Los Angeles following word of another party of California settlers being devastated by poor preparation and a particularly cruel winter while trying to find their fortunes further north. With this decision, some clever dealings, back-stabbings that would make the Northwest family proud, and a battle against some extremely determined marsupials, the settlement of Echo Creek was established.

For the next few decades, Echo Creek would grow and flourish, going from a small settlement to a prosperous rival of neighboring Los Angeles in short order. A pastoral town centered around ranches and vineyards, Echo Creek became known for being a restful retreat for visitors from back east–a place where one could relax and find peace from the hectic world at their own pace.

Then, in 1890, Oil was discovered.

By 1899, the vast stretches of rolling cattle land and rows of vineyards that one could look on from the slopes of the valley were gone–replaced by a forest of oil derricks wreathed in the haze of industry. Echo Creek was all but no more, a cloistered city center surrounded by oil derricks and pipes, siphoning the vast reserves of black gold that lay beneath the Earth.

The nascent Southern California oil boom has made Echo Creek extremely prosperous. But even as wealth is pulled straight from the Earth and into pockets, the ravenous need to overflow every cup has seen the derricks spread–climbing the hills and spreading into the neighboring lowlands and valleys of the San Gabriels. To the remaining farmers and vintners in Echo Creek, the growing industry approaching the edges of their lands is an inevitable progression–heralded by an inexorable force that would sooner see fertile grounds turn to worthless dust if it meant one drop more of the bounty beneath.

Three such heralds stood on the other side of a plain wooden fence separating them from the front yard of a farmhouse overlooking the encroaching forest. In the afternoon heat, the men were dressed in loose white button-down shirts, blue jeans, boots, and wide-brimmed hats iconic of the formerly wild west. The leader of the men, holding a stack of papers in his hand, held them aloft like a flag of truce–displaying it to the man who stood on the porch armed with a double-barrel shotgun.

"Now Mr. Baldwin, there is no need for any of this hostility. We're only here to persuade you to consider the handsome offer that's been presented."

The bare-chested, bearded man on the front porch of his home closed the breech of his loaded shotgun and answered promptly–his voice heavy with contempt. "Handsome offer?! You boys come here demanding I accept not even half of what my pappy paid for this land, just so I can watch my family starve while you oil jockeys get rich?! I'll tell you what, you can take that offer of yours and see if the Devil himself will take it! Then you come back to me!"

The man holding the papers raised his other hand. "Whoa, whoa, whoa…! Hold on there, sir! This does not have to resort to violence!"

"You come past that fence, and I'll have every right to!" Mr. Baldwin raised the shotgun and aimed at the three men, everyone involved aware that at this range all he would have to do is squeeze the triggers of his weapon to solve most of his problems. "I'll leave you right where you fall so the Sheriff knows it!"

The two men accompanying the paper holder went to their left sides. The man to the negotiator's right reached straight down with his left hand, while the man to his left reached across his own front, to shiny revolvers nestled none too snugly in their holsters. Seeing this, the man holding the papers called out. "Hold, damn it!"

He looked back at Mr. Baldwin. "We don't need to start somethin' unavoidable, gentlemen. Cycles of violence happen when you shoot one man, then another man shoots back, and the shooting goes on until something truly tragic happens and a family loses everything."

Mr. Baldwin narrowed his eyes at the negotiator's words, fully understanding their intent.

"This can all be resolved peacefully-like; you can take the offer, we can leave, and we won't have to come back." The man shook the papers again. "It's either that, or these tense and meaningless confrontations keep happening, sir, until someone slips and does something they can't take back."

"I'm plenty firm where I stand," Mr. Baldwin replied. "The only ones here having a problem with slippin' are you boys with the oil on yer shoes and blood on yer hands."

Lowering the papers, the man trying to negotiate realized that terms would not be arrived at so easily. "This is the best deal you're going to get, sir."

Mr. Baldwin's attention shot past the three men and to the path behind them as his opponent drawled on.

"Men with less land than you have made much more agreeing to close, it's a seller's market."

Behind the three men, the voice of a young man called back. "A seller's market? Oh Mr. Hutchinson, do go on."

The men beseeching Mr. Baldwin turned to face a Caucasian man with a dark goatee and mustache calmly stepping off a bicycle and setting it against the fence bordering the path up to the home. In spite of the afternoon heat he was impeccably dressed in a purple suit over an orange vest and a yellow ascot tie with purple top hat. He carried in his hand a cane he slipped from a basket aligned with the legs of the bicycle's front fork. Twirling the cane and setting it down, he began a leisurely stroll to the three men, beckoning them as he did.

"As a matter of fact, I would like an appraisal of my own land while you're in the neighborhood. Because I've heard that you've–" He stopped when he saw Mr. Baldwin on his porch, and recoiled a full step back, his dark eyes widening in amazement.

"My word," the newcomer addressed the man he called Hutchinson, holding the papers. "Are… are you shaking down a white man?"

Hutchinson glowered at the newcomer. "Well, if it isn't the alleged Doctor. This ain't a matter involvin' you, son. Why don't you hop on your fancy bicycle and mosey off to where you came?"

The newcomer shook his head. "I'm afraid I'm here for an appointment. Mrs. Baldwin is several months along and I'm here to perform a weekly checkup."

"The hell you are," Hutchinson replied. "A sane man wouldn't trust a snake like you with a haircut, let alone his wife and child."

The man in purple brought a yellow fingerless-gloved hand to his chest, as though in pain. "Don't besmirch my handiness with a blade either. I've cut plenty handsome heads of hair in my time and guarantee you won't find a closer shave west of the Mississippi or south of Skagway–but I digress."

He gestured past the men to Mr. Baldwin, and then side to side, indicating the farmer's land. "I was under the impression that your employer was more discriminating when it came to land acquisition. Are you genuinely out here going back on what I recall was… your word?"

Hutchinson's glower intensified. "This is strictly business, it's something a new resident like you wouldn't understand."

"Oh, my disciplines are wide and varied, Mr. Hutchinson. I'm no stranger to the 'You and Yours Discount.'"

"You and Yours?" Hutchinson repeated.

"You and Yours. A buyer offers to take the land from you at a lower price than what it's actually worth… one you accept so that nothing happens to you and yours."

He looked to his right, at the derricks off in the distance. "I've lived here in these parts long enough to see it as the standard model of business. Except, it would appear your employer is all out of Mestizo and Tongva to force off their lands, so they've gone after the white growers and herders. I applaud the progressive shift, but it's no less abominable."

Hutchinson's left eye twitched. "Good God man, you talk too much."

The newcomer walked right up to the three men, his lips curved up in an amicable smile. "Sirs, I am a man of confidence, it is my nature to talk a great deal."

Seeing hands moving to revolvers, he stops short and brings up his left in a halting gesture. "With that in mind, I would like to make a counteroffer on behalf of Mr. Baldwin here."

Hutchinson rolled his eyes. "You're no one's representative, Hill–"

It all happened suddenly, explosively. The cane in the newcomer's right hand came up and smashed into the chin of the man on Hutchinson's left. The man on Hutchinson's right reached across for his revolver, but the newcomer took his cane in both hands and bashed him in the jaw with the head of the cane. Hutchinson himself dropped his papers, for the pistol in the shoulder holster he wore, when the glint of sun off steel stayed his hand.

Hutchinson, frozen, looked at the slender, razor-sharp blade connected to the head of the cane and pulled from its shaft to be placed at his throat.

Underneath the brim of the man in purple's top hat, a cold and level voice calmly intoned. "That's Doctor Hillhurst, friend, Doctor Aloysius Hillhurst. Now, you'll pass on the closest shave of your life, Mister Hutchinson, take your men I've dinged good, and leave these fine people alone."

Hutchinson, persuaded by the metal against his jugular and the two men unconscious at his sides, slowly nodded.

Keeping the exposed blade in his cane held to Hutchinson, Dr. Hillhurst pulled from Hutchinson's holster and gave it a look in surprise. It wasn't a revolver, nor was it one of the unmistakable Mausers that were becoming popular back east. It was a black, slide-operated semi-automatic pistol with the magazine stored in the handle.

"Good God man, how much are you being paid to afford a Browning?" He asked in amazement.

Stepping aside, he let the blade slide back into his cane as he disarmed the other two men as they regained consciousness. Keeping his newly acquired Browning pistol held on them, Dr. Hillhurst gestured to them with the gun. "Go on now, be on your way and don't let me find out that your employer has sent anyone else uphill to start pestering people for their homes."
Hutchinson glared at the man, as he and his groggy associates complied, gathering themselves and leaving. "Don't you worry, none! We'll be coming straight for you, Hillhurst! You'll see!"

"That's Doctor Hillhurst!" Dr. Hillhurst called after the three men as they staggered off, towards several horses tied up near the dirt road. Satisfied to see them go, and doubly sure his coat was well-lined with the ammunition of the heavier weapons the men kept on said horses, he turned towards the Baldwin farmhouse.

And stared at the barrels of the Baldwin farmhouse's shotgun.

"… Well."

Mr. Baldwin gestured with a quick upward motion of his barrels. "You'll be on your way, too. I don't need the sympathies of no damn Mexican and Injun lover."

Putting the pistols away, Dr. Hillhurst turned on his heel and strolled away on his cane. "No good deed goes unpunished, I see. Worry not, I have no intention of lingering."

Dr. Hillhurst returned to his bicycle, climbed onto it, and spared the farmer a final look before he rode off. Making sure Hutchinson and his friends were well ahead, he began coasting down the long slope from the verdant hills overlooking Echo Creek and down into the haze of the derrick forest that surrounded the town and stood on every other block.

@@@@@​

"No Saloon! No Saloon! End the sale of Wine and Booze! No Saloon! No Saloon! End the sale of Wine and Booze!"

Dr. Hillhurst could hear them as he rode down Echo Creek's main thoroughfare, the dried and caked dirt leaving a trail of dust behind him. Looking ahead, his hand atop his hat, he frowned when he saw a gathering of women in wealthy-looking dresses of the Victorian style raising white signs lettered with red paint.

They were marching back and forth on the wooden walkway in front of an old Mexican-built saloon, a place he had every intention of visiting after his errands. In front of the town's post office, right next door to the saloon, a small crowd of residents hurled jeers and insults at the protesting women. Across the road from the saloon, more residents pretended to ignore the rabble as they ducked into the town's biggest bank.

Riding wide around the protestors and their detractors, Dr. Hillhurst brought his bike up to a post outside the post office and tied it up securely. Seeing the well-dressed doctor, some of the protestors' opposition broke into cheers and greeted him quite warmly. One man in particular stepped forward, the head of the Echo Creek Post Office.

"Hey, Doc! You know, you treat that bicycle better than most treat their horses!" The middle-aged, rotund man greeted him with a lingering Irish accent as he walked over.

Dusting himself off, Dr. Hillhurst turned to the man. "Afternoon, Harrison, what's the news today?"

Harrison O'Durgeson looked at the crowd of protestors and shook his head. "Oh, the same old. Ms. Bonny's gotten it in her head to have the saloon shut down because it's a 'blight on the community.'"

Dr. Hillhurst looked up at the sunny sky, tinted a light sepia by the faint fumes collecting in the town thanks to the oil derricks in every direction. "Here we all are, choking in the noxious fumes of industrial potential, but the saloon is the blight, of course."

The two men had a laugh and looked on at the protest. At the center of the rabble was a particularly elegant woman dressed more slenderly than her peers, her dark green dress inlaid with crystal accents that made her appear like a peafowl. Indeed, her large hat, protecting her from the shade, sported several large feathers from a peacock, pinned in place by hat pins adorned with pearls and other rare stones.

"Across this great nation, as society moves forward into the next century, the vice of alcohol continues its relentless scourge!" The beautiful, narrow-faced, brown-haired woman declared vocally over the chanting. "It steals husbands and fathers from families, sons from the arms of mothers, and workers from the factories propelling our country!"

She scanned the crowd as she continued. "The moonshiners, brewers, and…" She stopped when she saw Dr. Hillhurst. "… The vintners that profit off the suffering at the hands of alcohol are only one arm of the unholy alliance! The other are the bars and saloons that serve as the middlemen between upstanding men and the temptation of sin!"

Dr. Hillhurst visibly cringed. "And they say I talk too much."

Harrison nudged him. "The lass is looking your way."
"I would much rather lock eyes with a gorgon." Dr. Hillhurst turned away from the protestors. "So, anything in the mail for me?"

Harrison nodded. "As a matter of fact, I was surprised to find a letter addressed to you, my boy, instead of the usual packages."

Dr. Hillhurst was intrigued. "Just a letter?"

Reaching into the dusty brown apron he wore, Harrison pulled out a single envelope and handed it to him. Looking at its face, and finding it indeed addressed to him, Dr. Hillhurst sought the name in the corner and his lips curved downward.

"… Benjamin Wintersmane…"

"Wintersmane?" Harrison was surprised. "Of the Cape Hatteras Wintersmanes?" He gave him a nudge. "Now I'm curious. What business does a scoundrel like you have with a young man of such high society?"

Dr. Hillhurst tucked the letter in his coat. "He and I shot a man in Skagway, just to watch him die."

At the skeptical look Harrison gave him, Dr. Hillhurst broke into a grin. "Truth is, he and I were associates and co-owners of a claim. Though I stayed in Skag to keep anyone from trying to snatch it from under him while he did the real work."

"That sounds more like you." Harrison looked at where the letter had been placed. "So, still in business with him?"

"Afraid not; he sold the claim without so much as a flake and we parted ways soon after."

"Wait, wait–if you didn't make any gold off the claim, then where'd you come up with the money for that land your fancy little château sits upon?"

Waggling his eyebrows, Dr. Hillhurst answered candidly. "I ran a business of separating fools' gold. It was quite lucrative."

Harrison found that confusing. "How'd you…?" At the persistent waggling of the doctor's eyebrows, realization dawned on the postal clerk. "… Ohhh!" He burst into hearty laughter and slapped the doctor's back. "You scoundrel!"

Dr. Hillhurst laughed with the clerk, before he patted his chest where the letter lay. "Well, if this is all, I'm going to stop by Hidalgo's and enjoy a much-deserved meal before I ride back. You're free to join me, old friend."

Harrison chuckled. "You know? That doesn't sound like such a bad idea. He's open now, in fact. We can just go through the back entrance and leave the furies to their wailing."

"I beg your pardon, Mr. O'Durgeson?"

Both men stopped and froze as the crowd of counter-protestors thinned and broke to reveal the woman who'd been making an exhaustive speech about the evils of saloonery.

"Women standing up for a righteous cause aren't furies, or harpies, or whatever slur you're quick to call them."

Harrison gave the woman the side-eye. "Aye, I agree, Ms. Bonny. That's why I'm not."

Dr. Hillhurst nodded. "The man speaks the truth, Ms. Blakesfield-Bonner. We cynics only disparage the ill-intentioned and sinister."

Emily Blakesfield-Bonner's brown eyes narrowed into a contemptuous glower at the sharp-tongue jab thrown without a care in her direction. "A man as well-spoken and intellectual as yourself wastes his gifts on being a poor example to the community."

His shoulders slumping, Dr. Hillhurst leans onto his cane and heaves a weary sigh. "There is a difference between being a patron, and patronizing, Ms. Blakesfield-Bonner. I engage in one, you are a virtuosa in the other."

Harrison's chuckling at the sharp spike in tension between the two was interrupted by the sound of gunfire erupting from inside the bank across the street. As the townspeople looked on, several men in dark clothes with bandana hiding their faces stormed out of the building firing revolvers in the air, and in seconds people were scattering in every direction.

"Damn it all," Dr. Hillhurst exclaimed. "Of all times to do this sort of thing."

Emily gasped and nearly swooned at the sight of the mayhem, while Harrison scrambled for the door of his post office. "Good God, man, get to cover before you get shot!"

The three bank robbers, still shooting into the air, turned from the bank towards the saloon and post office–and the short alleyway between them. One stopped, however, when he saw the well-dressed teetotaler. His eyes, flying wide, burned with rage as he aimed his revolver at her.

In the very instant before he could shoot Emily dead, a whip swung down at high speed and struck the weapon from his hand. As he screamed in pain, the other two robbers turned to look.

A woman emerged from the haze and dust kicked up by the panic. She wore a pink skirt with tassels and matching vest over a magenta-colored shirt with rolled up sleeves, and black boots that came up to her knees. Atop her head, covered in chin-length black gradient colored hair, she wore a pink ten gallon hat with a magenta cheetah-print band around its base. In each hand she carried a pair of long, whips with pink handles that matched her fashion. The one she had used to strike the first bandit twirled through the air above with the deft movements of her right hand, while the whip in her left remained coiled in her grip.

"You boys picked a fine time to rob a bank," the woman in pink declared with a bright but rough voice, "I was on my way to make a deposit."

As the first robber gripped his hand in pain, the other two turned their weapons on the newcomer, who lashed out with the whip in her right hand. The whip, aimed with sharpshooter precision, slapped the revolvers from the hands of both men. As she brought the whip in her right back, she uncoiled and struck with the whip in her left, bringing it up to clock the robber to her left in the side of the head.

The last man quickly tried to reach for a second gun, but the intervening vigilante brought her right-hand whip down and wrapped it around his ankles, bringing them together, while her left-hand whip caught his shoulders and bound his arms together. With a quick tug, she dropped the last man down with a thud.

"Though now I'll be making a dropoff at the jail, too," she quipped before the onlooking townsfolk broke into cheers.

For a bright moment, the chaos brought by the villains and the order restored by the whip-cracking woman brought an end to the divide between the saloon protestors and their detractors. All gathered around her, applauding and praising the woman as she got to rounding up the robbers.

On the outside of the crowd, still in front of the post office, Dr. Hillhurst made an unkind face in the direction of the woman in pink. "Ugh… so tacky."

"You are one to talk," Emily snapped. "You, who wears a mask of civility to fool the unsuspecting into handing over their hard worked for money."

Doc Hillhurst took offense to that. "There you go again, the prima donna of patronizing."

Emily's arrogant glare turned to something baser at his chiding. "You belong in a cell alongside these evil men."

Dr. Hillhurst's heart sank. He looked over at the three men on the ground, being mocked and insulted as the brave vigilante bound them up for carting to jail, and then turned his gaze back to Emily.

"Madam, this misery and evil is not the product of ill minds, but empty stomachs. Offer a man enough to feed him and his, and he'll do whatever is necessary."

He went back over to his bicycle and untied it. Harrison walked over to him, concerned. "What about lunch?"

Climbing onto the bicycle, Dr. Hillhurst turned to his friend. "Good man, I can't bring myself to it. Something ghastly has stolen my appetite."

Harrison yielded. "Take care of yourself. I'll see you tomorrow."

With a nod to Harrison, a quick glance at the heroine of the hour, and an acidic glare for Emily, Dr. Hillhurst pushed off and rode towards the town's limits.

The long ride was hilly and grueling on the rocky dirt path, but it improved immensely as Dr. Hillhurst escaped the forest of derricks and the ever-present miasma that hung around it. As the brown tint faded into the bright vibrance of the world, the young man took a deep breath and let his lungs fill with the clear air rolling off the mountains and valleys towards the distant Pacific Ocean.

As the hilly fields began to transition to rows of trellises overgrown with vibrant grapevines, Dr. Hillhurst reached into his jacket and pulled out the letter sent to him. He looked at the sender's name again, before looking ahead.

"Benny… what have you been up to all this time?" He asked aloud as he crested one more hill and his home came into sight.

It was a simple Victorian style two-story home; painted white with a gray tile roof and surrounded by a matching white fence. The house the ultimate prize for all of his dealings in Skagway, and ironically the source of all his troubles presently.

Still, as he rode past the open gate and up to the front steps, Dr. Hillhurst couldn't be happier to be back at his mansion.

Until he noticed the young man, a boy really, slumped unconscious on his front steps.

= - = 8-1 = - =​

Fun Fact: Echo Creek isn't a real place in Los Angeles, and in canon it takes a bunch of motifs from various parts of LA to make up its own little locale. Against my better judgement, I've put Echo Creek somewhere in LA for the sake of my ability to write this story.

Spoiler: Where Echo Creek is located in Legends

Echo Creek has entirely replaced the city of Pasadena in Los Angeles, thank you. Also don't @ me about all of the earlier geographical errors that may result about this revelation.

 

[The Ero-Sennin]

I know I said Wednesday and Saturday but I didn't have to fly cross country on the last Saturday. Whatever, nevermind. Here we are with the next chapter of Legends Volume 8!

= - = 8-2 = - =

|419|​

The bell ringing outside of its normal time caught the attention of the students of Echo Creek Academy. As all attention was drawn to the PA system speakers in classrooms and hallways throughout the campus, a shaken-sounding Principal Skeeves spoke.

"Attention students; effective immediately all classes and activities for the remainder of the day have been canceled."

In Miss Espinoza's Calculus class, Misao, Heather, and Brittney all looked up in surprise hearing the announcement.

"School buses are on their way, and parents have been notified of the cancellation of classes. All students are instructed to leave the campus and go straight to your homes and not remain on campus following the final bell for any reason, under any circumstances."

In her classroom, Jo leaned back in her chair. "That's weird…"

"Furthermore, all classes will be canceled for the remainder of the week and will resume next Monday. So, pack up your books and start leaving the school, you are all dismissed."

In Miss Skullnick's class, Marco and Roland stared at the PA speaker and looked at one another. The other students present in class looked amongst themselves, murmuring in bemusement at the unexpected and sudden end of classes.

Star Butterfly and Mabel Pines, naturally, took it for what it was.

"SURPRISE VACATION~!" Star sang as she leaped from her desk. She then began to dance, walking in place while thrusting her horizontally held wand out in front of her. "School's out! School's out! Let's shout! It out! School's out! School's out! Let's shout! It out!"

"Ooh! Ooh!" Mabel called out as she stood up and celebrated with her, hands on her knees and twerking her hips while windmilling her hair around.

"Yes, Star, Mabel, your disdain for secondary education is well-known," Miss Skullnick said. "But just because classes are canceled doesn't mean homework is."

Both girls stopped celebrating like they'd just won the lottery, with Star turning to the troll woman in despair. "Miss Skullnick, come on! Be an ally!"

"I am," the teacher replied, "By not giving you kids a chance to slack off. You're to read chapters five and six and answer the review questions at the end of both."

Star collapsed dramatically to her knees. "Noooooooooo!"

Mabel rested a hand on her shoulder, with equal gravitas. "Our freedom was stolen from us…"

Miss Skullnick shook her head. Luckily, she was paid enough to put up with Star, both financially and in the intoxicating power of being a superhuman monster.

Getting up from his desk, Marco called over to both. "It's just two chapters, we can knock that out in a day, and you'll have the rest of the week to yourselves."

"But Marco," Star whined, "Math is hard…!"

Jackie chimed in. "After yesterday, I'll take AP Calculus class with…" She stopped and blinked. "… Miss Espinoza?"

That didn't sound right to say for some reason.

Marco agreed. "Yeah, AP Calc is no joke."

Forgetting how strange that sounded, Jackie smiled at Marco. "Right? I quit after a few classes because of just how intense it was."

She had an idea. "Hey, why don't we hold a study group at the spot?" She was referring to Hillhurst, of course. "Since we have the rest of the day, we can go knock out the homework and then decide what we'll do with the rest of the week."

Mabel gasped. "Good idea! Later on, we can go to the Bounce Lounge–"

Star waved her hand. "Oh, no, we're still banned."

Mabel pouted, then grew even brighter. "We could go to St. O's!"

Star snapped her fingers, making guns of them to point at Mabel. "Now you're talking!"

Roland turned to Marco as Jackie joined Mabel and Star on plotting the rest of their week. "Priorities, right?"

Marco shrugged his shoulders before he looked up towards the PA. "I wonder what's going on."

"Man, I don't know," Roland said, "But Skeeves sounded freaked out."

He didn't even sound worried during or after the fight yesterday, when a whole student got kidnapped off campus by a supervillain that literally blasted her way in.

Marco moved to get out of his seat. "I'm gonna go see what's up."

Roland got up first. "Nah, it's good. I'll go ask around and link up with Jo on the way. See you at the spot."

@@@@@​

In the depths of the Beetle Battle Base beneath Hillhurst Mansion, Andrew McCormick and Dipper Pines stood in front of a box-shaped device the size of a kitchen island, topped with a white glowing glass surface. On the very center of the surface, a Big Bad Beetleborgs comic was placed face up–Issue 99.

"All right," Dipper said as he hit a few buttons on the device's digital console. "Scanning Issue 99."

With a hum the machine began to work. A beam of light the width of the glass surface shot up and crossed the surface from left to right, penetrating the comic and scanning all of the information held within from cover to cover. Reaching the other end of the table, it swept back twice as fast, before repeating the cycle at its initial speed.

As Dipper watched the scanner work, Drew looked to his right over at the main monitors where Misao would normally be seated. On the screen, an image of the monster of the issue appeared–a green robot with red arm-cannons and a pair of missile launchers on its shoulders, the right having two tubes while the left had six. Following that, various pages featuring the Magnavore in action appeared on it before they turned into blocks of text detailing its feats and abilities.

"No melee ability… can roll along the ground at high speed… arm cannons fire energy blasts… right missile launchers are for heavier targets while left missile launchers are for agile targets…" Drew stopped mumbling and nodded. "Yeah, that's all comic accurate for Death Launcher. Wow… it's amazing how this thing can't connect to the net properly but can just read and sort data like this."

"Magic computers, man," Dipper said.

Drew turned to him and smiled. "Think of how many Vs. debates you could win with this thing. I could probably get Jo to shut up over who would win between Batman and Doctor Doom."

Looking up from the console, Dipper had to know. "… Batman would win, right?"

Drew's face fell. "… Dude…"

With an offended look, Dipper grew insistent. "But Batman would win."

Before he could commit to the debate, something he knew he'd regret, Drew's phone buzzing in his pocket came to his rescue.

"Hold that thought." Forever, he hoped, as he pulled out the device and looked at the screen. "Roland's just messaged me."

Roland said:
Hey, m'boy, school just let out and they don't want us coming back until Monday. Something's up. I'll hit you up when I know more.

Drew turned to Dipper. "They just canceled classes for the rest of the week."

That gave Dipper pause. "Why?"

Not even the fallout of Shego and some monsters attacking the school earned a day off.

Drew shrugged his shoulders. "I don't know, but Roland said he'd look into it."

There was nothing to do but wait, then. Dipper was fine with that. "All right , so we're at 99 now, how many comics do we have left to scan? And how many are we missing?"

Drew turned and started sifting through the piles of comics. "Of every comic I have, the only ones I don't are Issues 60, 100, and issues 108 through 120."

Dipper couldn't help but snicker. "That's not bad, all thinks considered. Why do you have such a big gap in your collection?"

"Issues 108 through 120 were movie tie-in issues for the tenth anniversary, and they're a lot rarer than most because the movie never materialized in 2000. I don't have Issue 100 because that's the hundredth issue milestone, and I don't have Issue 60 because that's the five-year anniversary and the anniversary copies don't get reissued."

He noticed Dipper was grinning at him and rolled his eyes. "Go ahead."

"… What about Issue 69?" Dipper asked.

He knew it. "Ugh! Look, there is no Issue 69. Art Fortunes says he didn't want people collecting it just because it was Issue 69, so he skipped 68 to 70 and even said back then that he was using that time to take a break from drawing."

That was kind of lame, Dipper thought. He'd actually kind of hoped there'd be some kind of mature edition for number 69, but oh well. "Is there a way we could get those anniversary comics, and the movie tie-ins?"

"Sure, Nano has them, she lets us borrow the rares to read like all the time." He looked off to the side pouting as he grumbled. "But won't give a discount for actually buying them. Hmph."

That gave Dipper an idea. "You know, we do have two exceedingly generous and unfathomably wealthy friends now, right?"

Drew stopped pouting, as he realized that. "… Huh, we do."

"When we all meet up, we'll talk to Misao about buying up those rares."

Breaking into a smile, Drew could not wait. "Hopefully she'll say yes."

He looked down at the pile of yet to be scanned books, and saw Issue 137, featuring Saberizer on the cover. His smile dimming, he looked up at Dipper. "Hey, should we include comics with monsters we've already beaten?"

"We may as well, just in case they come back or something, somehow," Dipper replied.

His battle with Saberizer crept up in his memory, as Drew conceded. "If you say so," he replied as he set aside the comic to maintain the order. "Can I ask you a question?"

"Is it why do I think Batman would beat Dr. Doom? Because I have a PowerPoint."

Drew was confident he didn't. "No, it's about the real Magnavores."

Dipper was glad Drew didn't call his bluff, because he didn't have a PowerPoint ready outside of his head… yet. He had a whole week to work on one, at least. "What's on your mind?"

"You've noticed how different Jara, Typhus, and Noxic are from the comics, right? How they don't act like, well… comic book villains."

An interesting question, Dipper wondered where Drew was going with this thought. "They're definitely not out to backstab each other, that's for sure. They also seem to be… I guess for lack of a better term sociable?"

"Except for Jara," Drew quickly said.

"Yeah, except for Jara," Dipper agreed. He wasn't about let Drew know that he found Jara aesthetically pleasing though, body shape and physique-wise. "Typhus especially seems like he's just out there to have fun."

"And both times he's fought at the school, he was courteous enough to back off and leave when Miss Skullnick told him to."

Dipper wondered if that was more because Miss Skullnick was actually that powerful. He'd have to ask Star or Marco about that. "You think there's something there?"

"I don't know," Drew admitted. "Maybe I'm seeing things… but what if there's, I don't know… humanity there?"

It stuck out so sorely with him, Jara's reaction to Saberizer's defeat. "And I'm not just talking about them being almost friendly. When I beat Saberizer… Jara came at us like she did after because she was distraught. Then yesterday, she definitely gunned for me because of it."

"So, you think they might have some kind of decency deep down, because they care about each other, and their minions?" When Drew nodded affirmative, Dipper mulled on that. "That would certainly put the Magnavores higher up than Bill. At the same time though… I doubt we could do much with that. If they do actually have feelings like that, then they all must definitely hate us for beating them up and killing their guys."

Drew visibly flinched but didn't outright cringe. "Maybe there's something we can do about it… but I'm not sure how to approach it."

Letting out a hum, Dipper nodded. "You're hoping for a peaceful resolution, huh?"

"I'd like that, yeah."

Dipper wondered if Drew feared a negative response. "Yeah, I'd like one, too." Seeing the tension bleed from him confirmed it. "These guys are from the Nightmare Realm, though, the same place a needy, whiny, insane triangle who decided to make his issues everyone's problem came from."

On top of that, he added. "Also, while the three of them seem like they might be cool. We don't really know much about Vexor or what his biz is. For all we know he could catch wind of us trying to hug it out and pull some stunt to take advantage of it."

Very good points, Drew agreed. "So, we should be cautious, but optimistic?" At Dipper's nod, he smiled. "I was worried you'd be more against this."

"Are you kidding? Between my Grunkle Stan, Mabel, and Pacifica Northwest, I'm firmly a believer that people can change for the better–we can't count them all out."

"Even the Vanderhoffs?"

Dipper immediately backtracked. "Okay, there are some cases that are really just rotten to the core and beyond redemption."

Both boys had a chuckle at that, before Drew finally got a message from Roland.

Roland said:
Nah, whatever is going on has got Skeeves FREAKED. I just got yelled at to leave school or I'm eating a suspension.

Drew didn't like that. "Principal Skeeves told Roland to leave or he's getting suspended."

Dipper didn't like that. "… And now I have a bad feeling. One sec."

Leaving the scanner to run, Dipper went to the main console and began typing away on the keyboard. The window showing the Combat Mecha Death Launcher disappeared and multiple windows appeared in its place. The largest of the maps was a static map of Echo Creek Academy and its surrounding neighborhood, while the others were text transcripts of police radio chatter, with indicators connecting the windows to emergency service units at or approaching the school.

"That's… a bigger police response than both the fights at school," Dipper said in surprise.

Drew walked over staring at the screen. "… What's going on?"

Dipper read some of the codes popping up in the transcripts. "419, 10-2…" He stopped and frowned. "Wait, 419?"

Drew turned to him. "What's 419?"

"That's… 'dead body reported.'" Dipper's face hardened. "10-2 also means no lights or sirens."

The revelation was startling. "Where did the body come from?"

Dipper shook his head. "I don't know, but I have a very bad feeling about this."

A dead body could mean anything, but there had been three battles with the Magnavores at Echo Creek Academy within a week. All of them were violent enough that a dead body could not be ignored at the scene of them.

"There's a good chance the police will pay us visits… Mabel and I maybe, Star and Marco definitely."

"Should we tell them what's going on?"

"No, we can talk about that when everybody meets up here. Tell the group chat to come to Hillhurst however they can, and to not draw attention."

Drew couldn't help it. "Ask your sister, my sister, and Star not to draw attention–"

Dipper rolled his eyes. "Yeah, I realized just as I was saying it."

@@@@@​

The buses had arrived, and both teachers and students who had cars were making their way out of the school's parking lot, creating a bit of a traffic snarl where the school's driveway met the street. At the front of Echo Creek Academy, Marco, Jackie, Mabel, and Star were heading down the sidewalk towards their bus, watching the chaotic scene.

"Even teachers are leaving," Mabel said. "They want everybody gone."

Star rested her hands on Marco's shoulders. "We're going to get the homework done today, right? There's so much I wanna do! I want to hang out with Pony Head, stay up late watching cartoons, spar with Jackie–"

"Work on that magical armor you talked about?" Marco asked.

"Oh yeah, that too!" Star quickly said.

Marco wanted to be there to supervise that. "Yeah, we can do the homework as soon as we get to Hillhurst."

He looked at Jackie. "You're a math whiz, too. You got my back?"

"Dude, of course!" Jackie looked back and noticed Misao hurrying towards them. "In fact, Star and Mabel, you've got three math geniuses to help get the homework done."

Misao reached the group and immediately caught Mabel in a hug. "What is happening? There wasn't even a monster!"

Star looked back at Misao as Mabel patted the new arrival's head. "Do not look a gift warnicorn in the mouth, you don't want to get your face bitten off."

"I just started my own classes," Misao lamented. "Can I have one normal school day?"

"You're asking for too much," Marco said.

Misao pouted. "I know, but still… I was having fun! I don't know why everyone is so afraid of Miss Espinoza."

"I'm thinking about going back if you're there," Jackie said to Star's chagrin.

"Jackie, no! Don't fall for Calculus' seductive wails!"

The simultaneous rings of everyone's phones called their attention to their devices. Marco, Star, Jackie, Mabel, and Misao all produced their phones to see a message from Drew.

Dr00 said:
Something weird's going on, everybody meet up at Hillhurst ASAP.

"And there's Dipper," Mabel said.

Marco was worried. "I wonder what he's figured out." He looked back toward the school. "Or what Roland found out for that matter."

Star pulled out the Dimensional Scissors. "Well, we should go straight there, right? Jo and Roland will catch up."

Before anyone could agree, a car horn honked repeatedly, drawing everyone's attention to a cranberry-colored minivan parked waiting in the school's drop-off lane. Inside the driver's seat, a woman was waving and calling to them.

"Miss Darlian! Reiko hired me to give you a ride!" She called out. "Don't use the scissors, hurry up and get in!"

Any concern that this stranger wasn't legit disappeared as Misao quickly hurried to the van. One by one, Marco, Star, Jackie, and then Mabel climbed into the van, Marco taking the front seat while the girls piled into the back. As soon as they climbed in and the door started sliding closed, the driver put the van in drive and pulled out of the pickup lane.

"Danke schön," Misao thanked the woman. "We didn't need the ride, but it we're grateful nonetheless."

Mabel leaned in to get a good look at the woman. "Yeah, it's nice of you to show up but um… how'd you know to be here?"

The woman, who had dark red hair and eyes a darker shade of the same color, and in general reminded all of them of an older Kim Possible, pointed to the Police Scanner radio on her dashboard. "The police are coming to the school, and I think the press will be close behind them."

Naturally, the mention of police had the teens alert. "Why are the police coming?"

"I could not tell you, but it sounds serious," the woman said. "As your Fixer assigned to you by Hyuuga Heavy Industries, it's my job to make sure if any law enforcement contacts you, it's through me." At a stop sign she looked back at the group. "My name's Elise Dinkleman, and I'm with HHI's American Legal Department."

Jackie brightened. "Oh, wow! Our own lawyer!"

"Not just any lawyer, a Fixer!" Mabel said. "Our own under the table problem solver who gives us peace of mind when dealing with stuff we can't! My Grunkle Stan always dreamed of having one at the Mystery Shack, but Soos was too sweet, and Wendy was too indiscriminate with her violence."

Elise nodded as she left the stop sign. "That's about right, a Fixer can't be too nice, but they can't be a hammer treating every problem like a nail."

"Ugh," Star groaned, recalling Hammer Kong.

Jackie asked. "So, besides being our legal team, what else can you do for us?"

"As long as it's not something trivial like grabbing you Britta's–I'm not your servant–or killing a guy–I'm not a hitman–the things I can do for you are pretty broad. You need someone investigated, you need info on something behind a layer of clearance or two, or you just need some fine print on a contract read? I'm your woman."

She patted the steering wheel. "I'm a pretty good wheelman, too, and I drive non-descript vehicles that don't stand out too much in a line of traffic."

Star leaned in. "Man, we could've used you while dealing with the Vanderhoffs."

Elise pointed back at Star. "Exactly. I handle people like that by showing up at their door and telling them that they'll be in a world of legal pain if they don't stop their crap. HHI does not care how much money you got."

As they pulled up to the intersection leading to Echo Creek's main street, Marco pointed to the left. "Turn here, we're going to Hillhurst Mansion."

"I was told that creepy spot was your hideout," Elise said as she made the turn. "When I was a teenager, I was dared to go inside and have a look around, but I chickened out."

"Oh, you're local?" Marco asked.

"Not from Echo Creek, I'm from Van Nuys, like thirty minutes away, right next to North Hollywood."

Jackie made a face. "Eugh, North Hollywood…"

"What's wrong with North Hollywood?" Elise asked.

"You know exactly what's wrong with North Hollywood," Jackie replied.

Star looked back and forth between the two. "Is it as bad as Glendale?"

"No!" Both said together, before Elise clarified. "Let's be honest, all of North LA is screwed, now with Echo Creek being full of weirdness, too."

Mabel and Misao, who were not from LA, had new questions. Marco, who was from LA, also had questions.

The first one came up right away. "So how much of what we're involved in have you been told? Because Dipper is going to ask when he meets you."

"I have been briefed on everything by Reiko, including your association with the Big Bad Beetleborgs. Try not to surprise me too much, okay?" She asked.

Misao spoke up. "You're sworn to Attorney Client Privilege, then, when you learn their identities."

"Naturally, Miss Darlian," Elise replied.

The group chat buzzed again, and Marco looked at his phone.

Jo said:
Hey, not to alarm anyone, but the police are swarming all over Brittney's little sports complex and a van marked Coroner just pulled in to go to the back. This might be bad.

As Marco read the message, Drew responded.

Dr00 said:
Meet with Roland and get to Hillhurst. We'll talk about it there.

"Oh…" Marco did not like that as he began to text back. "We might be in trouble."

Marco said:
Star, Jackie, Mabel, Misao, and I are on our way. HHI sent a lawyer to pick us up and they're bringing us to the Mansion.

Dr00 said:
Wait, we have a lawyer, now?

Janna Banana said:
Sweet, a Fixer.

Dr00 said:
A what ?_?

Marco lowered his phone and looked back at the others as they reviewed the group chat.

"The Coroner?" Jackie asked. "Did somebody die?"

"We were all in class, there are witnesses," Mabel said.

Misao frowned. "What if it was from yesterday? Maybe Señor Senior Junior's robots attacked someone?"

"Somebody would've noticed that." Jackie said, concern creeping into her voice. "Right?"

Star held her hand up. "I fixed the school up just this morning before class, remember? If anybody had gotten hurt yesterday, Marco and I would've found it then."

Marco was as shaken as Jackie. "Yeah, but that doesn't change that the school has been involved in three violent attacks and now there might be a dead body. We're going to be the first people they ask about it. Well, us and not the Beetleborgs."

Mabel sank into her seat. "Ugh, this sucks."

She looked at Elise. "Well, at least we got a lawyer."

"One that's going to keep you out of trouble with this one," Elise promised.

Her passengers shared looks tinted with varying levels of concern. All agreed that this was a serious situation, now, and worried about how this was going to turn out.

= - = 8-2 = - =​

Crime is afoot, I'm sure it's not something that will become an immense problem later.

 

[The Ero-Sennin]

The first of many.

But I digress. Let's get back on schedule!

= - = 8-3 = - =

|The Dragonslayer|​

The world was aflame.

Bright pink fire scorched the earth, boiled the seas, and even clung to clouds–eating away at them. The blaze spread out in every direction, rolling like the swells of a raging sea. Above the intense firestorm, sleek delta-winged police craft with front-facing windows and blue and red spinning lights atop their hulls braved the heat as they headed towards the center of the inferno where a titanic being stood.

It was a feminine figure, neon pink in color with short magenta hair. Her face was grotesque, dominated by a large-lipped mouth filled with massive, jagged teeth, and she sported two sets of horns, three going straight down the top of her head to the back, and two massive ones that curved up and then out from the sides. Her limbs from her upper arms and thighs down were made of fire, and she wore a red cape and red high-heel shoes.

In spite of the tremendous flames that her body generated, keeping the police craft from getting too close, the monstrous creature was in no good shape, holding her limp left arm as she looked back at the police craft in defiant contempt.

From the vehicles, a commanding voice of authority spoke. "Pyronica, there's nowhere left for you to run. Surrender now and this doesn't have to get worse than it already is for you!"

Her eye narrowing and starting to glow, the fiery being Pyronica let go of her left arm and pointed her right hand at the cops. "I've said it before and I'll say it again! You'll never take me alive, copper!"

"Suit yourself," the voice said. "And by the way, we're Titanium not copper. We learned our lesson from the last time!"

Pyronica lowered her hand slightly. "… Crap."

"But we're the least of your problems."

Pyronica's eye flew wide, when she saw the glint of metal moving extremely fast through the air above the flames she created. She barely had time to throw her injured left arm up before something crashed hard into it, the blow knocking the fiery monster off her feet and sending her crashing onto her backside against a hill.

Letting her arm fall to her side, a large gash cut into it, Pyronica sat up and stared with a mix of anger and panic at her attacker. It was a much smaller creature, human sized, adorned in gold-trimmed black armor with helmet, gauntlets, cuisses, and greaves made of a polished black bone and a chestplate fashioned from the head of a red-eyed black dragon. The armor was completed with a black and red cape that unfolded out into a pair of draconic wings keeping Pyronica's attacker aloft.

"You pigs must be really desperate," Pyronica sneered, "If you're contracting out to scum like Dragonslayer Barla!"

Barla, a seemingly human-appearing woman beneath the armor, smirked in amusement at Pyronica. "You really aren't so tough without Bill Cipher to hide behind, are you?"

She thrust her right hand forward and a stream of fire shot towards the armored warrior. "I'm tougher than you, skank!"

Barla threw herself into the flames, diving through and scattering them away before swinging her sword and cutting down Pyronica's arm from palm to shoulder in an instant. As the fiery monster screamed in pain, Barla circled around her back and then dove for her other shoulder.

"Where are the rest of your Henchfriends, Pyronica?! Was Cipher really the glue that held you weaklings together?!" She taunted as she closed in, before swinging her sword and cutting off Pyronica's already injured left arm at the shoulder.

Roaring in pain, Pyronica clenched her teeth as the row of horns down the back of her head lit up bright pink before the same light appeared in her horns. A tremendous blast of pink light shot from her sole eye, focusing from a pink ray of fire into a bright blue laser as she tried to kill Barla with a look.

"You're the last person in the whole Nightmare realm to be calling anyone weak! Fight me without that armor, and then see how weak I am!" The flame monster screamed as she fired her laser.

Barla was a blur, leaving trailing afterimages behind herself that Pyronica's laser slashed apart before she reached the monster's face and kicked her in her large lips. With a shriek, Pyronica was thrown back and crashed into the ground so hard her laser cut out.

Groaning, Pyronica focused her vision on Barla, who glowered down at her with far less amusement than before.

"Why would I take this armor off for someone as wretched as you?" She asked as the mouth of the dragon head that made up her chest plate opened. "You're not even that hot."

Pyronica was offended as a yellow glow began to shine from the dragon's mouth. "Oh screw you, I'm at least an eight!"

Barla rolled her eyes as the glow grew brighter. "Eh, six and ha–"

The glow vanished, Barla with it.

Pyronica stared at the spot in the burning sky where Barla had been, then looked around. There was no sign of "The Dragonslayer" anywhere. "Uhh… what just happened?"

She then noticed the sky around her was filled with dozens, if not hundreds, of police craft. All of them training weapons on her.

Looking at her injured state, and then at the cops, Pyronica bowed her head down.

"Darn it, Bill, why'd you have to go and die like a chump?"

@@@@@​

The searing heat of a burning sky was replaced by the relatively cool, stale air of the Magnavore's mausoleum lair for Barla, as she landed in a heap at the foot of its central sarcophagus. Her cape falling limp down her back after losing its dragon-wing shape, the armor-adorned woman coughed several times as she expelled superheated gas from her lungs and adjusted to a different air, temperature, and gravity.

"What…?! Where…?!" Barla demanded as she looked up, and the first thing she saw was Vexor staring down at her, surprised.

"It truly is the armor of a–" Vexor was cut off when Barla gripped her sword and leaped for him.

"Vexor G!" She roared, swinging her sword down–only for it to clash against Jara's blade as the Magnavore General intervened.

"Barla!" Jara called out. "Stay your blade!"

Seeing Jara, Barla's eyes flew wide before she jumped back, like she'd seen a ghost.

Keeping her sword pointed at her for a moment, she lowered it slowly, her surprise all over her attractive face. "… Ja-Jara…? Is that you?"

Jara lowered her weapon with the same slowness. "It's been a long time, Barla, I see you've been taking care of the armor I made for you."

A long tense moment passed between the two, before the sword in Barla's hand vanished in a flash of black flame. Letting out a squeal of joy, she threw herself at Jara, meeting her with a hug that the red-wearing Mercenary General enthusiastically returned.

"It really is you!" Barla said as she held Jara tightly. "I've lost count of the years since we last met!"

"It has been too long, too long," Jara said as she patted Barla's back. Taking her by the shoulders, she stepped back. "You've gotten stronger since I last saw you."

"You as well," Barla said before she looked at Vexor and grew suspicious. "But what are you doing working for him?"

Jara let out a grunt. "He is a long-term client. He is also why we are both no longer stuck in the Nightmare Realm."

Barla stepped back in surprise. "Wait, this is not the Nightmare Realm?"

"Correct; somehow through Cipher's trickery we were able to escape."

Vexor chimed in. "I am in the process of learning how this came to be–and also conquering this world, which is where you come in."

Barla scowled at Vexor. "Conquering this world?"

"Of course," Vexor said, "The Magnavore Tribe's mission is to rule the stars: Whether they burn here or scream there."

Jara turned to Barla. "As far as clients go, I personally would not call him the best." She looked back at Vexor pointedly before returning her gaze to her. "But by us coming here, he's certainly provided more than any prior."

She reached out and took Barla's hands. "And once we understand how we were able to escape the Nightmare Realm, we can bring the others as well. Zaiking, Illuba, Gorgodal, and Hidra… we could all be reunited!"

Barla liked the sound of that but noticed a name missing. "And Saberizer, as well."

Jara fell quiet, tense, and Barla's eyes slowly widened. "… Oh."

Vexor cut in. "But before we can discuss such reunions, we must focus on the business at hand. Barla, Jara speaks highly of you not only as a powerful warrior, but as a skillful commander and tactician. The Magnavores need a leader in the field to command our forces and strike against our powerful enemies."

Barla once more scowled at Vexor. "I see."

Jara moved, taking Barla by the shoulder. "Vexor, I will bring Barla up to speed. For now, I believe you had research to attend to?"

Sensing the tension in the air, Vexor conceded to Jara's request with a gesture of his right hand. "Very well, I will leave orientation to you. After all, this operation is yours to command overall."

Jara nodded, and both women vanished in a burst of flame. Turning away from where they stood, Vexor summoned to his hand a new book: a biography on Art Fortunes. He opened to the page he left off at and resumed reading.

Both Jara and Barla appeared atop one of the many indistinct piles of metal scrap surrounding Noxic's workshop. The compound was now a hive of activity, with many scabs working to finish all of the workshop's facilities. Noting it, Barla directed her full attention to Jara.

She was unhappy, they both were. "Jara… why are you working for that self-important, chitinous slime?!"

"It is not a simple answer," Jara replied. "But the shortest way I can explain is there is a debt owed that I have yet to repay."

One she did not want to divulge, Barla respected Jara to not press for details, but stuck to the point. "Regardless of your reasons, he is still a criminal. One who wishes he could be as much a terror as Cipher, Nukus, or Vilor–"

Jara huffed. "You have been doing work for law enforcement in our time apart, haven't you?"

"And?" Barla asked. "It is good money. In fact, before you summoned me here, I was putting another of Bill Cipher's 'Henchmaniacs' away. It was Pyronica."

Jara was impressed. "Who else did you capture?"

"Keyhole, 8-Ball, and Hectorgon. I made sure to capture them first because they could break out the others."

Jara nodded. "Pragmatic as always."

"Do not change the subject, however–"

"I am making a point!" Jara cut her off. "You are not a cop, Barla, you are a warrior. We are beholden not to law or lords but to the battlefield, and to those who we call comrades."

"So is Vexor a comrade?" Barla snapped back at her.

"He is a client," Jara snarled in turn, "No more and no less."

Barla remained tense, glowering at Jara, and reluctantly yielded to her friend and superior. She had more pressing questions anyway. "What happened to Saberizer?"

Jara tightened her hands into fists. "Saberizer fell in battle here, only days ago."

She knew something had happened, but still hearing it shocked Barla into stunned silence. This was a tremendous loss for Jara, and after escaping the Nightmare Realm, too. "How can it be possible, are the warriors of this world that powerful–?"

"They are…!" Jara stopped herself from exploding at Barla and pulled back her wrath. "… Children armed with powerful weapons. It is a game of pretend to them, playing hero and treating us like we're villains in their fantasies."

Reaching out she grabbed Barla by her shoulders. "That is why we need you, Barla! To show them that it is not a children's game that they can go home after, that there are no rules or safe zones, that this is war, and we are warriors!"

The mask concealed her face, but Barla didn't need to see it. She felt Jara's emotion in her words, and how she gripped her shoulders. Her frown deepened into a scowl, as she nodded. "I understand. Which one killed Saberizer specifically?"

Jara's tension eased, and she nodded. "I will explain the enemy we're facing in detail. Right now, I should introduce you to my fellow comrades under Vexor."

Barla tilted her head. "Oh? These are comrades?"

Jara turned and looked over the edge of the scrap heap they stood on. Down on the ground, both Typhus and Noxic waited patiently.

"So…" Noxic said. "You gonna introduce us, or am I gonna have to make increasingly rude and offensive guesses?"

Barla stared at the two other Magnavore Generals, then turned to Jara. It bore repeating. "These are comrades?"

"Hey, I don't know what anyone's told you, but Typhus, me, and Jara are the best buds you'll ever meet!" Noxic called back up.

"Yeah, we roll deep! Ride or die, baby!" Typhus proudly added.

Barla had concerns. "Jara… what have you gotten into?"

"In spite of all appearances, they are good friends," Jara reassured her, before calling down to them. "This is Barla, one of my comrades from my Mercenary Army."

At that, Noxic's tone changed. "Whoa, hey! Another Mercenary badass? Well, shoot, a friend of Jara's is a friend of mine. Welcome to the team, Barley!"

"Barla," Jara corrected.

"What did I say?" Noxic asked.

Typhus, ever the gentleman, patted Noxic on the shoulder and threw some more reassurance Barla's way. "Hey, don't worry about this guy. He always messes with the new guys on the team."

"They don't gotta be new," Noxic corrected.

"Yeah, well, still don't worry about him. Noxic's the coolest."

"Cooler than cool!" Noxic boasted.

"This guy's buildin' our army, how cool is that?" Typhus gestured back to the many Scabs constructing the workshop, and when Barla actually saw the machines at work she was impressed.

"They're a buncha mooks, but even a mook can be a problem with the right orders," Noxic said. "With you and Jara callin' the shots, we might actually beat down them Beetlebums, and their friends!"

Finally, a name for their enemy. "Beetles…?"

"I said I'll explain it more in depth," Jara said, before she looked back towards her comrades. "And since we're all here… there's no time better than now."

With that she stepped to the edge of the pile. "I will tell you what we are up against, our plan for defeating them, and your role in it."

@@@@@​

"A dead body was found behind the school, in a hidden off spot behind the bleachers of the new sports field right near one of the back entrances of the school. From what Drew and I overheard on the Beetle Battle Base's police scanner, it was really, really messy."

With Roland and Jo's arrival at Hillhurst, the group plus their new legal representation were gathered on the front porch of the mansion. Jo and Janna both cast her side-eye looks but otherwise treated her presence as a non-threat while the discussion of this morning's events continued.

"Like I was saying on our way here," Marco said, "The police are going to ask if we know anything about this."

"Which we don't," Jo said. "None of us were in the back of the school during any of the fights since last week."

Mabel asked. "Could it have been someone attacked by SSJ's robots?"

Dipper shrugged his shoulders. "I don't know. When you guys were fighting them, did they look like they'd been… used?"

Marco, Jackie and Star all shook their heads. None could recall seeing any signs of blood splatter on any of the Fenrir they fought.

"They'll probably be asking him and Shego questions about it, too," Drew said. "What are we going to do about this?"

Dipper shook his head. "There's no we, here. You, Roland, and Jo gotta start staying even further away from us in public."

"Man's right," Roland said. "The heat just jumped up a bunch, m'boy."

Jo pouted. "This means we can't be seen associating even at Zoom, because unlike in the comics people can rub two brain cells together."

"Most of the time," Dipper said.

Mabel was even more reassuring. "You'd be surprised what dots people don't connect."

"Yeah, but see how long it takes for Nano to put it together, cuh," Roland pointed out.

Dipper and Mabel both stared blankly at Roland. "There's no way Nano doesn't know you're the Beetleborgs." They said in unison.

Roland stopped. "Damn, you right."

Janna smirked at Drew. "Looks like you'll have to sneak over if you wanna hang out, Sad Kid. Don't worry, I'll leave my bedroom window unlocked."

Drew did a quick double-take. "What?"

Star leaned closer to Marco and whispered. "She's not being subtle anymore."

"No, she's not," he whispered back.

He looked to the others and asked the important question. "Besides doing our best to not be incriminating… what are we going to do about this?"

Elise looked up from where she stood off the porch. "May I suggest nothing?"

When they all looked at her, she continued. "Unless a monster is actually responsible for this, I advise you stay as far away from this case as possible. Leave it to the police to investigate, and for me to tell them that you're not involved if they come to question you."

She looked back and forth between them. "Besides that, under no circumstances are you to talk to the police by yourselves, nor are your families. When they come to speak with you and I'm not around, don't say anything at all, not even a yes or no. Just tell them to speak to your lawyer, me."

She reached into her pocket and offered a stack of cards that Mabel reached out to take from her. "Give them these so they can contact me."

Janna nodded in agreement as she took a card from Mabel. "Don't talk to the pigs. So, what I already do when they bother me."

"How often does that happen?" Drew asked.

"I'm very good at it. I haven't seen the inside of a station yet."

"Better than us," Mabel said. "We spent a week in county."

"Nice," Janna praised, finger guns and all.

Dipper hummed. "I still don't know what Soos did to get those charges dropped."

Jo was displeased. "So… we're not going to investigate a possible murder? One that might've happened while we were otherwise preoccupied, or worse… happened indirectly because of our actions?"

Drew felt tension creep through him at Jo's observation.

"Yes, that's exactly what you need to do," Elise said before addressing the Beetleborgs directly. "Even with your identities still secret, coming near something like this will put you on Authorities' radar. If you get associated with this as the Beetleborgs, the cops will want to know who you are under the helmets to find out why you're so invested."

Roland nodded in agreement. "We gotta stay in our lane: Fight the Magnavores and save the universe from the Nightmare Realm. Leave the street level crap for the street level peeps."

Drew wasn't so sure about that, and as he looked at Jo he could see she wasn't either. They seemed to be the odd ones out, though, as everyone else exchanged nods of agreement.

"Fräulein Elise," Misao began.

"Ah, just Fräu," Elise corrected.

"My mistake," Misao bowed her head in apology, before making her request. "Can you gather as much information for us as you can, please?"

Elise smiled. "Of course, this is exactly what I'm here for."

Drew took a deep breath but kept his concerns to himself. He decided he'd talk to Jo about it later and come on to a consensus with her about what they should do. Steering clear of something like this just didn't sit right with him at all.

"Besides that, do you guys need anything? Want anything?"

Marco had an idea. "Can you go to my parents and tell them what's going on?"

"Of course, I'll swing by your place on the way into town." She nodded to the Pines. "I've already spoken to your Grandfather."

Dipper nodded back to her. "Thanks." He turned to address everyone. "I don't like this, and I get the vibe that some of you like this less." He looked at both Drew and Jo. "But most of us like dealing with cops even less than that."

"Preach," Janna and Jackie said in unison.

"So yeah, until this becomes something we can't ignore, we're staying as far away from this as possible."

"Fine by me," Star said. "Cops are kinda lame."

"I wanted to be a cop when I was in middle school," Marco muttered.

"But now you don't, which is good!" Star said, before pecking him on the cheek. "Because I'd never date a bootlicker."

"Same!" Janna and Jackie said together once more.

"In the meantime, we have our own crisis to worry about," Dipper continued. "We need to start figuring out a few things about the Magnavores. Like where they're hiding, what they're planning to do next, and what their connection to Art Fortunes is."

He looked at Hillhurst Mansion. "We also have to figure out why Flabber is the one who made them coming into our world possible in the first place, and why there are monsters even living here at all."

Star spoke up. "Yes! We also need to get better weapons and armor! In fact, if not for the distraction of homework, I'd be getting that done right now!"

Dipper knew what she was getting at but took the bait anyway. "What is it, math? I'll do it for you, just give me your book and which chapter."

"Do mine, too!" Mabel quickly said.

"Sure."

This annoyed Marco. "Hey! Don't cheat for them!"

Dipper didn't like upsetting Marco, but… "We have a week to ourselves, Marco. Just let Star have this so next time we fight no one gets ragdolled like we did by that Goblin kid."

Marco grimaced, before remembering they had a lawyer. "Say, Ms. Elise?"

Elise looked over at him. "Yes?"

"There's somebody else I wouldn't mind you looking into…"

|= - = 8-3 = - =|​

Barla was one of those villains from Juukou B-Fighter who couldn't be adapted into Big Bad Beetleborgs. If you see the episode she appears in, you'd see why. Still fanfiction has no such limitations, so Barla the Dragonslayer is our enemy of the arc.

 

[The Ero-Sennin]

And we're back on schedule fully! See you on Saturday.

|= - = 8-4 = - =|

|Wolfy's Room|​

As the Beetleborgs and their allies concluded their meeting on the front porch of Hillhurst Mansion, Mums stood by the window, just out of sight with his head as close to the glass as possible. Just a few feet away, Fangula and Frankenbeans watched with quiet anticipation as they waited for Mums to report. Even further away, by the organ, Flabber floated upside down with his arms and legs crossed, exchanging side-eyes with the Pipe-ettes when not glowering at the eavesdroppers.

"What are they talking about, Mums?" Fangula stage whispered to the mummy.

Mums gestured for Fangula to be quiet. "I'm trying to listen!"

"I wanna know!" Frankenbeans yelled out.

Mums gestured wildly for quiet. "I can't listen if you're being loud!"

"Can you at least tell me if that woman is coming in? I'm starving!" Fangula yelled. "And I'm fairly certain I can have a bite from her without getting weird looks from the rest of you!"

Flabber interjected. "Fangs, you will always get weird looks from us."

"We'd ask if you've looked in a mirror, but…" The Blue Pipe-ette chimed.

Fangula looked towards the organ and its occupants, affronted. "That is modern poppycock! We can be seen in mirrors just fine!"

Flabber lined up his shot and took it. "He's right, girls, the only reason mirrors don't work with Fangs is because they break when he looks in them."

He actually got a laugh out of Mums with that one before he caught himself and rotated his head 180 degrees to snap at them. "Hey, can you knuckleheads be quiet?! They're talking about dead bodies and not talking to the police. I think they killed a guy!"

"Oh, first they bring us weed, and now murder. I'm proud of them," Fangula said.

"One of us! One of us!" Frankenbeans chanted.

Flabber, who could hear everything outside just fine, rolled his eyes and snickered with the Pipe-ettes before Dipper opened the door and stepped in.

"Hey, we didn't kill anybody," he informed them.

Mabel stuck her head in through the doorway. "And stop eavesdropping!"

Mums and Fangula threw their hands up in disappointment, while Frankenbeans shoulders drooped.

The rest of teens filed in, as Flabber floated away from and allowed the Organ to swing open. "Are you guys okay?"

Drew shrugged his shoulders. "Whatever's going on is outside our wheelhouse–"

"For now," Jo sharply said.

Dipper nodded. "There's not a whole lot we can do, and we already have enough incidents that'd have the police bothering us. We don't need more."

Jackie nudged Marco's side. "Hey, dude, since we're here and Star's homework is taken care of, maybe she should come along."

Marco remembered. "Oh yeah." When Star gave him an inquisitive look, he explained. "You want to explore the house with us?"

Star lit up and caught both Marco and Jackie in a hug. "I'd love to!"

This drew the attention of the monsters. "Hey, you guys looking for Wolfy's room again?" At Marco and Jackie's nods, Mums was interested. "Count us in, too!" He turned to Frankenbeans and Fangula. "Hey you bums, get moving."

Janna was tempted to see this werewolf den, and looked over at Drew. "Hey, Sad Kid, want to go along?"

Drew looked over at Dipper. "You don't mind?"

Dipper shook his head. "All I've got to do is scan comics, you're cut loose."

Jo brightened. "Roland and I can help you with the comics."

"Yeah, not like there's anything else going on for the rest of the day," Roland added

Mabel and Misao were already headed down. "Misao and I will brainstorm ideas for the armors~!"

"Awesome~!" Star sang back. "We'll be back with any and all dramatic revelations!"

After the two groups cleared the living room, going their separate ways and the organ closed, the Pipe-ettes turned to Flabber.

"Flabber baby," the Blue Pipe-ette said. "Is it a good idea for them to be sniffing around Wolfy's crib?"

Flabber folded his arms and hummed. "Well, if the house wants them to find it, then I can't tell the house no."

The Green Pipe-ette hummed. "Why do you think it wants them to find it?"

The Red Pipe-ette said, "Maybe it thinks Marco is Teodoro."

Flabber and the other two Pipe-ettes looked at their Red counterpart, bemused.

"… Who?"

@@@@@​

With Hillhurst behind her, Elise drove her minivan back into Echo Creek proper. She was already on the phone with her superiors. "The kids described the person who attacked them over the weekend: African American male with darker complexion, 185 centimeters in height, dripped out fashion–but hey this is LA–and is armed with a walking stick that contains a katana. Does that match anybody on the database?"

"No," Reiko replied, "but I know who you're talking about. We made contact just this morning. He sounds like an amateur but is professional enough to know that he's not getting paid, so he has no more business with the team."

Elise didn't expect that. "You saw his face though, right? Does he look like anybody specific?"

"Yes, actually, Gabriel Ronzell Haley."

Elise slammed on the brakes, a fortuitous event as she'd just come up to an intersection with a stop sign. "Hold on, what?!"

"It honestly explains why he hasn't appeared on the show…"

Checking the intersection, Elise resumed driving. "Does his family know that he's going around beating people up for money?!"

"I reckon not, but the Haleys have been candid about him being troubled and starting trouble since he moved in with them from Go City. This is a dark turn, though…"

"Dark turn? This is scandalous, the kind of scandal that gets shows put on hiatus and an entire family under a microscope."

"It would be if they kept it a secret. Gabriel's patterns of behavior are already known and his family struggles to rein him in. The fact that he hasn't killed anyone, especially the kids, says that he has some restraint at least."

Elise didn't think so.

"But speaking of restraint, there's something more intriguing about that whole matter you're not taking note of, Dancing Shadow. Even as it's right there in front of your eyes."

Elise stopped at a light, and wondered what Reiko was getting at, before it dawned on her. "… He dog-walked three of them."

"Exactly."

"Who is this kid?"

"We'll work on finding that out. Right now, though, he's left Echo Creek for Glendale and isn't interested in carrying on now that the ex-Vanderhoffs are no longer in town. His car was spotted parked at a hotel where we confirmed he checked in. I recommend you not tell them where he is, because Marco, Jackie, and especially Star want to run it back."

"Them doing anything there is almost certainly going to involve Law Enforcement, so yeah. I'm not."

"Atta girl. Is there anything else?"

"Nothing that I can collect on my own besides maybe some details on what they found at Echo Creek Academy."

"We've already got Medjed on the case, there. Expect something by the evening when the police are done gathering evidence."

Waiting, something Elise didn't mind doing, but didn't know if the kids would be as patient. As she turned on the street leading to the neighborhood Marco, Star, Dipper, Mabel, and Misao lived in, she replied. "Well, they have a busy day ahead of them. So hopefully they can wait until then. Right now, I've gotta let Marco's parents know that they have a lawyer, now."

She frowned when she saw an unmarked police car parked in front of the Diaz home. "… And not a moment too soon. I'll call you back."

"All right then," Reiko responded, "Be safe out there, Dancing Shadow."

@@@@@​

Down the unrealistically long hallway of Hillhurst Mansion did Marco, Star, Jackie, Janna, Drew, and the resident monsters go. As if to accommodate the larger group, the hallway seemed a little higher and wider than they all remembered their last times down them, reminding them of the supernatural qualities of the house even as they discussed its residents more.

"Wolfy is the only monster who can come and go as he pleases," Mums explained to the kids as he puffed a pipe packed with the good stuff courtesy of Jackie. "And he abuses the heck out of it. He only shows up every few decades!"

Fangula sniffed. "You'd think he would have the common courtesy to just die, but right when you think you'll never see him again, there he is to be a disappointment on top of an annoyance."

"Ever wonder why Werewolves and Vampires don't get along?" Janna asked aside to Drew.

"I blame World of Darkness," Drew replied.

Janna looked surprised. "You know about World of Darkness?"

"Roland, Jo, and I used to play it when we started High School," Drew revealed.

"When?" Janna asked, before Fangula answered the question he listened in on.

"Vampires and Werewolves actually get along just fine," he informed them, "I just don't like Wolfy. Also, World of Darkness? I wish things were that nice here!"

Drew challenged that. "Are you kidding? If we got Beetleborg powers in the World of Darkness, we'd be tearing down Vampire Society to its foundation."

"Sure you would, blood bag," Fangula teased back.

Marco looked back at Fangula in turn. "Your personal opinion aside, why is Wolfy allowed to leave like he does?"

"Why are you imprisoned here?" Star asked.

Mums answered them. "If we knew that, we'd figure out how we could escape. Not even Flabber knows why we're here."

Fangula sniffed haughtily. "I've always suspected Wolfy knows, which is why he doesn't stick around. So, he doesn't let it slip."

Mums gave Fangula a withered and withering look. "You know, I always thought the same thing! Ever since Wolfy locked Flabber in the organ for us."

"What was that about?" Drew asked.

"That jerky jester was gettin' on our nerves because of those hippies we drove off." Mums explained.

"The Manson Family," Janna said.

"Yeah, those guys. They made themselves at home, and their boss smooth-talked Flabber into becoming his friend while the rest of them were cleaning out the house and pawning everything they could for cash."

Fangula nodded. "We tried to terrorize them into leaving, but half of them were so high all the time that they thought we were hallucinations. Flabber making sure we couldn't hurt them didn't help!"

Frankenbeans, a few synapses firing in his brain, then cheered. "Then Wolfy come back!"

Mums pumped a fist. "He sure did! He stuffed Flabber back into the organ, threw all those bums out and scared them so bad they cut their hair and got jobs!"

Janna snorted. "Oh no they did not."

"What happened to 'em?" Mums asked.

"Like, Manson and half of them went to jail and the other half died when they tried to kill some washed up actor dude. It was hardcore."

Mums cackled. "That's even better! Dang hippies!"

Drew looked around. "Flabber is that true? You were friends with Charles Manson?"

The tiniest Flabber appeared on Drew's shoulder, looking guilty. "Well… you had to be there, kiddo. He was a really charismatic guy."

"He tried to start a race war," Drew said, "And ordered his followers to kill people."

Flabber had a blank look for an instant. "Race war…"

"Yeah, dude, not cool," Jackie said.

Flabber snapped out of the momentary funk. "Well, I had forty years to to think about that in hindsight!"

"Forty-five but go off," Janna corrected.

"And I'm never going to make a mistake like THAT again."

"Instead, you've made new, more exciting mistakes!" Star cheered.

Marco didn't think that was worthy of praise.

Neither did Drew. "Mistakes Flabber is helping us fix. And doing a good job."

"Perhaps if Wolfy comes back," Fangula said, "He won't stuff you back into the organ this time."

"I hope not," Flabber said. "I'm really starting to like True Blood."

Drew and Marco both made faces of disgust, while Jackie and Janna nodded like Flabber's opinion was so obvious.

Star brought the conversation back to Wolfy. "So, what do you suppose Wolfy does while he's gone?"

"How would I know?" Mums asks. "He doesn't talk much, and only brings souvenirs for Frankie. He just goes into his room, and we don't see him again until he decides to leave."

Marco hummed. "When does he normally show up?"

It took a moment, but Fangula answered. "Actually, the only time he ever shows up is not too far away."

"Yeah!" Mums said. "Every time he's shown up it's been around Halloween, and he leaves not too long after."

Janna rubbed her chin. "A mysterious werewolf of few words, who comes and goes as he pleases, darkly just in his actions… but obfuscating in his habits…" She sighed. "Yep, the monster-lover in me is intrigued."

Fangula opened the distance between himself and Janna slightly but visibly.

Mums knew he had nothing to be concerned about.

Frankenbeans' attention was elsewhere entirely. "Wolfy Door!"

There it was, different from the last time encountered. Rather than being across from an alcove it was in the middle of the otherwise unremarkable stretch of hallway. It was exactly the same as before, featuring the locked door and the name plate reading "WOLFY" and "No Entrar" to dissuade intruders.

"Spanish?" Drew asked.

Marco stepped up to the door, Jackie and Star joining him. He stared at the knob, before looking at his former crush and current girlfriend. "Here it is… it's definitely the same door."

"Do you think it'll still open for you?" Jackie asked.

"I don't know," Marco admitted as he reached for it.

Mums stopped him. "Hold on a second, there's something we gotta check first!"

The Mummy patted Frankenbeans on the back. "Go on ahead, Frankie. Give it a go, just like before!"

"Okay!" Frankenbeans said as he stomped up to the door.

Drew turned to Mums. "I don't get it."

"Frankie and Wolfy are friends, so the door should open for him!" Mums explained. "If it doesn't… then we got even more questions than you brats do!"

Stepping aside, Marco let Frankenbeans come up to the door. The massive man-thing took the doorknob and turned it.

Nothing happened.

Frankenbeans gave it another, harder turn and only jiggled the knob.

A moment of silence passed, before Frankenbeans' shoulders drooped again.

"… Wolfy no like me?"

Everyone else turned and stared at Marco.

"… And now I have more questions," Mums confirmed.

Fangula leaned closer, scanning Marco over. "I don't understand. Why, of all people, did it turn for you?"

As Frankenbeans plodded away from the door, sniffling, to be consoled by Mums, Marco shook his head. "I don't know. I've never been to Hillhurst before, and I don't think anyone I know has."

"I tried," Janna said, "But you guys scared and chased me and my peeps off."

Mums patted Frankenbeans on the back. "There, there, dummy. You hear that? You scared the witch! Wolfy will like that."

Drew rolled his eyes before he asked Marco. "Maybe it has something to do with your ancestors?"

"I don't think any of my family was in Los Angeles before my Dad emigrated up here," Marco replied. "And my Mom's not a native, either."

Star walked over to the door, examining it, and hummed. "Well, maybe you have a long lost relative. Someone who was here a long, long time ago when the house wasn't haunted."

She placed her hand on the doorknob and turned to Marco. "And because of that relative, you can turn the lock like–"

Click.

Everyone's attention shifted from Marco to Star.

Star was looking at the doorknob in her hand, wide-eyed. Slowly, she turned to them, her bright blue eyes wide and dilated. "… It opened for me…"

"… Okay…" Marco said. "Maybe it… uh… opened because Star's magical, and she's cast a lot of magic on me. So, I'm… magically radioactive and the door just opens for me."

"I don't think it works like that, Marco," Star said before she thought about it. "Does it?"

Drew decided to test that. "Well, I'm magical thanks to Flabber. Let me try."

Star let go of the doorknob, and it clicked closed again. Walking up to it, Drew took it. "If it opened because Star and Marco are exposed to magic, then I should…" He stopped. "Huh. It's not turning."

He stepped back, and then tried something else. Everyone behind him watched as the doorknob jiggled, but refused to turn even as Drew concentrated his telekinetic powers on it.

"… Okay, that's enough power to rip somebody's arm off, I think," he said. "It's not turning."

He stopped with his telekinesis. "… This is very weird."

"We've tried everything to get in. Knocking the door down, punching through the wall, using Frankie's head as a battering ram. Fangs even tried to turn into a swarm of insects and get under the door. Nothing works," Mums lamented as Janna tried opening the door, followed by Jackie. The knob didn't bother. "Why are you two able to open it?"

Jackie just flat out said it. "… Maybe they mean something to Wolfy."

"Only way we'll know for sure is if we open it," Janna said, before turning to the chosen two. "Well?"

Marco and Star shared looks, before they walked up to the door. Placing his hand over the doorknob, the former began to turn it when the latter placed her hand over his. Looking at one another, they nodded and turned the knob together.

Click.

The door opened, and with a creak it swung open to reveal a dark room with no windows. The shape of furniture immediately stood out. A four-post king-sized bed draped with purple curtains adorned with countless specks that made it look like a starry night sky. Beside the bed was a desk, and across the room from the bed was a massive armoire with a pair of large double doors at the top.

The room was empty beside that, and unlike the many unused rooms in the house there wasn't a mote of desk to be found. It was spotless and pristine.

Holding up her wand, Star stepped into the room and held the wand out in front of her. "Whoa, it's…" Her shoulders dropped. "… just a bedroom."

She turned and looked at the curtains over the bed and found that the sheets matched. "Love the bedspread, though… reminds me of something."

Marco walked in and looked around, Drew, Janna, Jackie, and the monsters gathering at the doorway.

"Star, can you get us some lights?"

Star nodded and held up her wand. As the half-star in the bell began to glow, several gas-powered lamps kicked on with blue magical flames before they cooled to yellow, casting the room in a comforting glow. Something else lit up, however, a purple glow shone from the topmost drawer of the armoire just before the double doors–the mark of a Crescent Moon colored a smoky amethyst purple.

Looking from her wand to the armoire, Star turned to her boyfriend. "Marco… the room's reacting to my wand."

Marco stepped up to the armoire and placed his hands on the drawer's handles. "This closet thing is also… huh?"

As soon as he touched it, red glowing lines spread out, illuminating intricate swirls that spread across the front of the armoire, all of them converging to a lock between the drawer and the main doors of the armoire–where a keyhole in the shape of the letter S sat.

Marco let go of the armoire, before slowly turning to Star. In the shocked voice she used when he opened the door, he whispered to her. "… It reacted to me…"

They all had questions.

Drew, Jackie, Janna, Mums, Fangula, and even Frankenbeans.

As Marco and Star's gazes met, both wrestled with the most important one that everyone was thinking in that moment.

Why them?

|= - = 8-4 = - =|​

Next time: A dive back to 1899.

 

[The Ero-Sennin]

Who is Teodoro? Let's find out!

= - = 8-5 = - =

|The Hunter and The "Doctor"|​

The wind howled loudly over the San Gabriel foothills, as a figure beneath a solitary pine tree dug furiously with both hands to excavate as much dirt as possible. He had excavated a long, but reasonably deep trench, before he collapsed beside it in exhaustion briefly. With several deep breaths the young man, wrapped in a Mexican serape with a black-colored wide brimmed hat dangling off his back, unneeded at such a late hour, pushed himself back up onto his knees and looked down at the hole.

Reaching to his side, he picked up a long, tightly wrapped bundle and threw it in the hole. He followed it with a second wrapped bundle, before heaving into the far end of the hole a large pack that hit it with a heavy thud. With the same urgency, he began to fill the hole with the dirt he carved out of it–packing and punching it down until it was as level and undisturbed as the rest of the loamy soil surrounding the pine tree.

As he sat there, still labored in his breathing, the wind picked up even stronger. The tree above him swayed, its branches creaking from the strain, as the gusts caught his serape like a cape and blew it out to his right side.

Slowly, the figure stood up, a young man wearing a faded red shirt and faded brown trousers. He turned away from the tree and looked down the hill it stood at the summit of. At the base of the hill, looking up at him, an immense, misshapen man stood silently. Looking like a conglomerate of human body parts, stitched together in the shape of a powerfully built man evocative of Frankenstein's monster, the abomination stared hatefully at the boy in turn as electricity crackled from the two bolts screwed into the sides of its head and arced down his body down to his feet.

The young man, despite his exhaustion, reached with his right hand and to a holster on his hip. He gripped the handle of a silver-polished Colt Single Action Army revolver, and narrowed his tired brown eyes at the creature.

"Prey that thinks it can stalk the hunter…" he said to the beast as it hunched lower and growled at him.

After a tense moment, his grip tightening on the weapon, he yelled. "… Is just prey that is eager to die! Come on, then!"

The creature obliged. It leaped, hurtling up the hill and leaving a torn up crater where it stood, flying towards the young man as he drew the revolver and aimed it between the beast's eyes.

@@@@@​

When Dr. Hillhurst brought the unconscious young man into his home, several things were readily apparent. First of all, he was Mexican, and he had spent a very long time out in the elements. His deeply tanned skin was dry and warm to the touch, reflecting a lot of walking out in the bright sun. His clothes, consisting of brown pants, a red long-sleeve shirt, a dark-brown colored sombrero with even darker, reddish splotches all over it, and a brown and green-striped serape meant to keep the sun off his body.

He was a young man, mid to late teens, with a youthful face, dark brown hair, and a beauty mark under his right eye. Judging by his shallow breathing and previously mentioned warmth even out of the sun, Dr. Hillhurst was fairly certain he was dying of heat exhaustion.

"Exposure…" He said aloud. "If I recall correctly…"

Getting up from where he left the young man on the couch. Dr. Hillhurst hurried out of the room and into his kitchen. Soon, he returned with a pitcher of water and a damp cloth. Pouring the water onto the cloth, he removed the young man's serape and began to dab it onto his face and exposed arms to make sure they were moistened.

As he continued to loosen his clothes to let his skin breathe, Dr. Hillhurst stopped when he noticed on his belt at his right hip a silver revolver–a Colt Single Action Army. It was while checking his other side that he noticed something even more unusual.

"… Is that a C96?" He looked at his belt and found that he even had spare, if used, stripper clips for reloading the gun in a hurry. "… How'd you get hold of something so fancy?"

It then occurred to him that the stripper clips were empty, and the slide of the Mauser was pulled back in its holster. "… And what were you using it for?"

He looked at the Colt and slipped it partly from its holster. All the cartridges had been fired, as well, and the boy's belt had not a round left to reload it.

Sliding the gun back into the holster, Dr. Hillhurst stepped back and brought a hand to his chin. "… This is unsettling…"

A well-armed young man with well-used guns usually meant bad news. Especially with a rising crime rate courtesy of the forest of derricks spreading like a cancer in Echo Creek. However, a young man wielding a fancy new semi-automatic with a bespoke caliber would be the talk of the town both below and above board.

Dr. Hillhurst had also never seen this young man before. He knew every Mexican and Native resident around Echo Creek as a matter of neighborly course, and the young man was not one of them. Nor did his distinct face match any of the usual notorious suspects' description down at the Post Office.

"Where did you come from…?" He asked the young man aloud.

As if he'd said the magic words, the young man's brown, bloodshot eyes opened, and he moved with a practiced, efficient swiftness–drawing the Mauser from his holster and pulling the trigger repeatedly as soon as it was aimed in Dr. Hillhurst's face.

The loud, impotent clicks of the empty, slide-locked pistol filled the living room of the house, as Dr. Hillhurst stared down the barrel of the gun at the young man's face.

"I see you didn't need much, to come back around," the doctor replied cheerfully despite the weapon pointed between his eyes. He picked up and offered him the pitcher of water. "You must be thirsty, drink up."

Staring, surprised, at the man's completely nonchalant response to being used as impromptu target practice, the young man looked at the pitcher and immediately dropped the Mauser to take the it and gulp down some water.

After the first taste, he paused with a gasp of surprise, before he all but upended the pitcher into his mouth, draining the whole thing in great, greedy gulps.

"Yes, with all the oil drilling going on over the hill, I have to be very careful with the water I pump out. I've taken to using some English water treatment techniques–London is beyond hope for ever having anything drinkable, but it works wonders here."

As soon as the water pitcher was empty, the young man took Dr. Hillhurst's hands into his own and bowed his head in gratitude. "Thank you," he said in a raspy voice, "Thank you so much… you've saved my life."

Dr. Hillhurst was relieved. Pulling the gun on him must've been a reflex; he seemed genuinely grateful now that he had his wits about him. "It's the human thing to do, friend, there's no need to thank me."

Letting go of his hands, the young man looked around. "When I crossed the border, I was told to come to this place, because there was a man who was friendly to Mexicans who needed help. Are you Aloysius Hillhurst?"

Dr. Hillhurst frowned. "Doctor Aloysius Hillhurst, but yes."

The young man's brow furrowed. "My apologies, I was not told you were a doctor."

Pinching the bridge of his nose, Dr. Hillhurst sighed. "I paid a lot of money for that Doctorate…"

At the young man's puzzled look, Dr. Hillhurst waved it off. "Nevermind all that. What's your name, friend, and what brings you so far north?"

The young man nodded. "My name is Teodoro Ysidro, from El Desemboque in Sonora."

Dr. Hillhurst was surprised. "On the Gulf? Good Lord, young man, what are you doing all the way up here?"

Teodoro did not mince words. "My village was destroyed and everyone in it was killed."

Dr. Hillhurst recoiled with a start from the young man. "Everyone?"

"Yes," he said with a stiff nod. "They came in the night. Beasts that showed no mercy to anyone, they slaughtered men, women, and children then burned all they did not take. Those that escaped, they hunted like animals, and left none alive."

That was horrific. "… They hunted you as well?"

Teodoro shook his head. "No, I hunted them. My father, brother, and I survived the attack and chased them… but they were too many and overwhelmed us. I escaped, my father and brother did not."

Dr. Hillhurst looked at the darker stains on his hat and shirt, and quickly realized that they were all from blood, dried and baked into the fabric by the hot sun that must've beaten on the boy for weeks.

One could easily call his story made up; a lie meant to cover grisly deeds to explain his lack of ammunition.

But Dr. Aloysius Hillhurst was a man of confidence, and his years of experience taught him to identify those who spoke with confidence, and those who spoke with a clarity that could only be truth. Teodoro's story spilled from his mouth with complete sincerity, tinged with the horror he'd experienced and relived behind his wide eyes that were otherwise empty.

"Good Lord," he muttered, "And you made it up here… all the way to Los Angeles?"

Teodoro nodded. "I had to, I followed them here."

Dr. Hillhurst gave pause. "… Say that again?"

"The sons of bitches are here, I tracked them here and I will hunt them down until they are dead." With the water in his system, Teodoro spoke more firmly and with increasing anger in his voice. "That is why I came here. They say you make ammunition, and don't turn away Mexicans."

He looked at his two weapons. "I need as many rounds as you can make."

Dr. Hillhurst hummed. "I've never made 7.63 Mauser before, but if you have a few shell casings, I can work with it."

Teodoro was relieved. "Thank you." He then reached into a bag on his hip, and produced several bars of metal he handed to him. "The rounds for the .45, I need them made from this."

Dr. Hillhurst looked down at the weighty bars in his hand, and his eyes flew wide when he realized what he'd been so plainly handed. The bars were solid, pure silver, each weighing a kilo and there were easily two dozen of them tightly tied together.

Feeling the weight of the silver in his palm, Dr. Hillhurst quickly set it aside. "How long have you been carrying that on you?!"

Teodoro stared at him, puzzled. "It came with me from my family. We melt them down for ammunition."

Dr. Hillhurst was, to say the very least, incredulous. "Ammunition–?! What the devil do you shoot with this?! Demons?!"

Without an ounce of hesitation, he replied. "Yes."

Dr. Aloysius Hillhurst was a man of confidence. As a man of confidence, there were opportunities born every minute, as well as the people who provided them. Twenty-four kilos of solid silver did not simply fall into a man's hand like this, confidence or otherwise, expressly delivered by a child who spoke of "hunting beasts" and shooting "demons."

A less discerning man would take the silver, melt it down, and gloss up the weight in rounds as a replacement. That less discerning man whispered in Dr. Hillhurst's ear to do just that. That same confidence of his, however, gave him pause.

Once more, this boy was far too forthcoming and sincere. His was a naïveté that would get him killed anywhere else, especially in a land so hostile to his kind. That told him two things that weighed gravely on him.

Dr. Hillhurst nodded. "I can do that for you, but it will be costly."

Teodoro understood. "I have no money, but as long as I am here, and those beasts are, I will repay you however I can. I will do work for you, whatever you need, so long as it does not involve harming the innocent."

When was the last time Dr. Hillhurst had an assistant? Quite possibly too long. The last one didn't work out when the Lady Bonner offered him a better price for his services rendered.

That set his ventures back several weeks and he was still bitter about it.

"I'll do you one more, Ted–can I call you Ted?"

Teodoro didn't get it. "Ted?"

"Teodoro? Theodore? Ted is short for it."

Teodoro lifted and dropped his shoulders. "I do not mind."

"Ted, as it turns out I am past due for an assistant to help keep my affairs in order and my posterior unkicked. In exchange for making your ammunition and providing you free room and board here, I'll need you as my right hand while I attend to some troublesome dealings in the town over yonder hill."

The young man made a face of disgust. "That oil field is a town? How do people live there?"

"That's the thing," Dr. Hillhurst said. "They don't, and that's what makes the dealings so troublesome."

The price didn't seem too steep to Teodoro at all. "Again, as long as I do not harm innocents, I do not care what you need me for."

Dr. Hillhurst beamed. "Outstanding, lad. You are in good hands."

A new dilemma erupted. "… Though, if I'm going to be making this many rounds, I'll need brass, and I have a shortage."

Teodoro looked down at his pockets, and produced another three dozen bars of silver, much to Dr. Hillhurst's disbelief. "I only brought silver with me."

"How much of that have you been carrying with you?!" He shouted in exasperation.

"… I buried a pack nearby with all that I could take from my home."

Dr. Hillhurst's mouth dropped open. "Did you live on top of a silver mine?!"

Teodoro gave him a blank look. "No, a fishing village."

Dr. Hillhurst shook his head. "Nevermind, Ted, nevermind." He got up. "Now then, you get some rest. There's water in the kitchen and an icebox with food you can prepare. Make yourself at home and don't worry about doing anything for the rest of the day so you can recover. I have to write down an order for some brass and find the strength to go back into town to submit it."

He shook his head in dismay. "I'll have to make a deal with a devil or two to see it filled."

= - = 8-5 = - =​

Huh, lad seems familiar.

 

[The Ero-Sennin]

Whoops, missed another day. Probably because I was locked in on another bit of writing. Nevertheless! The next chapter of Legends Volume 8 is here!

= - = 8-6 = - =

|Offensive|​

At Britta's Tacos, Brittney Wong tore into an overly stuffed burrito as she watched her best friend Sabrina Backintosh meekly stare at her smartphone. The phone sat on the picnic table in front of the restaurant, Sabrina swallowing heavily as she tapped her fingers on either side of it.

Brittney took another bite and chewed, her eyes narrowing as Sabrina's fingers inched towards the screen before retreating back to their starting position. The mousy, clumsy cheerleader was sweating profusely, and trembling like a chihuahua in the midst of a panic attack.

Chewing and swallowing, Brittney set down the burrito in its cardboard container, before she lashed out for the phone. "For fuck's sake, Sabrina!"

Sabrina was faster, snatching up the phone in both her hands and shrieking at her friend. "I CAN DO IT, BRITTNEY!"

Backing off, Brittney rolled her eyes. "Are you going to do it before the Heat Death of the Universe?"

"I'm gonna!" She assured her best friend. "It's just…" She sighed. "I had so much fun with him Saturday, but that was the biggest dance, that was YOUR dance. I don't know if he'll say yes if it's not for something big and important like that."

Brittney gave her a probing look. "Sabrina Backintosh. The fact that Andrew McCormick had fun with you and wasn't a sniveling simp the entire time like some kind of dweeb means that if you asked him out… he'd probably say yes." She rolled her eyes. "I mean, come on! You spent the entire dance attached at the hip and you were chugging whipped cream at the end of the night like nobody was watching you two be the most adorable goobers alive!"

She slapped the table. "You have chemistry! You get along! Ask the boy out already before Heather Summers or Janna Ordonia do!"

Sabrina did a double take. "Wait, Janna's into him, too?"

"I've heard rumors," Brittney said before pivoting back to her point. "But that just means you need to square up, get your pom-poms out your purse, and STAKE YOUR CLAIM!"

A fire burning in her eyes, Sabrina lunged for her phone and held it up to her face. "I… I'll do it!"

With great determination Sabrina began texting out a message.

Sabrina said:
Hello Andrew! I hope this text message sees you well. I wanted to tell you again that I had a very good time at the dance and I hope you did too!
I was hoping that since we had so much fun, that you would like to hang out again. We could go see a movie, grab some food, or even take a walk down Santa Monica Pier! Or all three! Actually, all three sounds really good, it could be an entire afternoon and it'll be super fun!
I'm sorry I'm rambling, but I'm super nervous, I've never asked a boy out on my own before. And you're like the coolest boy I've ever met. So anyway text me back! Thank you for taking the time to read!

"And… SEND!" Sabrina said like she was pushing through the last rep in a set of fifty. Sagging in relief, she then threw up her hands in victory. "I DID IT! I ASKED A BOY OUT!"

Brittney finished her burrito in the time it took Sabrina to write out that text. "What did you send him, Tolkien, a manuscript?"

"I'm nervous! I rambled!" Sabrina snapped back at her. Her eyes then flew wider, and she let out a frightened squeak before she shrank back.

Her reaction alerted Brittney, who looked behind her and jumped when she found a young man walking up to her from her blind spot. He had brown, unkempt sandy brown hair underneath a black baseball cap with a deer skull in its center. He wore a pair of baggy black jeans and a white t-shirt with the picture of a scowling, fair-skinned, glasses-wearing man with short black hair and matching dark eyes.

"Hey, ladies," the young man greeted.

Brittney stared at the face on the shirt and felt a strange sense of déjà vu as she tried to recollect where she saw his face before. Her eyes then widened before she looked up at the young man's face, his eyes hidden by his hat and hair not unlike Oskar Greason's.

"Hey…" She said with a suspicious tone before asking. "… You wouldn't be TC Darnell, would you?"

"That depends," the young man used his thumb to tip his hat up, revealing gentle-looking eyes that were an unusual shade of violet. "Are you Brittney Wong and not the kind of girl who'd blow up a man's spot?"

Sabrina was less nervous. "Ah… TC Darnell… the artist?"

Brittney nodded, recognizing him. "Yeah, it's him."

"In the flesh," he confirmed.

She looked at his shirt. "Is that a new shirt design?"

"Mmhm!" He replied. "Just finished it like an hour ago. I actually just had a dozen made." He gestured to a duffel bag that he had set at his feet. "When I thought I saw the daughter of one of LA's better known patrons of the arts and thought… 'maybe I should hit her up, see if she wants a shirt.'"

"Of course I want a shirt," Brittney said without hesitating, before she added. "But what are you doing here in Echo Creek? Weren't you in Paris just like a month ago?"

"Paris, Tel Aviv, Dubai, Shanghai… I went to a lot of places a month ago, selling shirts like crazy." TC reached down into the bag and pulled out a pair of white t-shirts that he then handed to Brittney before tossing one in front of Sabrina. "I've done so much traveling it's actually pissed off a few of my sponsors, so I'm laying low for a bit."

Sabrina stared at the face on the shirt, not experiencing the strange sense Brittney had. "Excuse me, um… my friend's told me about you. Where do you get the ideas for your shirts?"

"The faces? Well, I do a lot of traveling, and I see a lot of faces. So many faces that after a while they blend together, and I can barely remember any save for specific features that just grab me." He gestured to the shirt. "So, I draw the faces from memory and use the features that stand out or strike me. The result is a face that doesn't exist… but is familiar to someone in some way."

He smiled at the girls. "You might've seen someone with glasses like these, or eyes, or haircut… maybe even been frowned at by a particularly mean teacher. You don't remember where you've seen this face, but it sticks out and it creates that feeling that this person who doesn't exist might have been someone you knew."

Sabrina held up the shirt given to her, and saw the face of the bespectacled man glaring at her. Now that she saw it up close, she got what he was trying to say. That scowl sent a chill through her, like she'd seen it before. "… I see what you mean, it's kind of creepy."

TC shrugged his shoulders. "And that's why I draw them, so people can feel something."

"Well," Brittney said, "Are you planning on making anymore while you're here?"

"A few more," TC said as he watched Sabrina fold her shirt up. "I have an idea for one that I'll get started after dinner tonight."

At that moment a familiar and unsettling sound filled the air. Soon as she heard it, Brittney's left eye twitched and she shot to her feet, scanning the sky. "… Are you kidding me?!"

Sabrina, TC, and everyone else dining in front of or waiting in line at Britta's Tacos looked up as the shadows of the vespoid-shaped Magnavore Jet Fighters passed overhead. There were two flights of four of them, flying high and circling wide over Echo Creek like vultures searching for a meal.

"They… they're attacking again?!" Sabrina asked, in disbelief. "They just attacked yesterday!"

Brittney already had her phone to her ear, calling Star. "I guess they got tired of acting like Power Rangers villains with that monster of the week crap."

TC looked down the street and frowned. "Uh… girls? We should run."

Both followed where he was looking, and Brittney almost dropped her phone when she saw that what was once an empty street was now crowded with dozens of those Scab monsters from last week. They stood in square formation, their bodies twitching and jerking in anticipation, moving in an inhuman fashion.

At the very front of this formation, Barla stood with her black dragon armor gleaming in the sun and the eyes of the dragon head on her chest alight with malice. Raising her hand above her head, her sword materialized in it with a burst of flame. Looking at the otherwise peaceful neighborhood and gawking pedestrians and drivers stopped and staring at them, she pointed her sword forward and shouted.

"ATTACK!"

@@@@@​

"Flabber, can you explain any of this?!" Marco demanded as he and Drew cornered the phasm in Wolfy's room. Behind them, Jackie and Star were examining the still glowing armoire, while Janna laid on the bed and stared at the ceiling of the four-post bed.

"I honestly can't!" Flabber said. "It was so long ago; I can't remember anything. My memory before… oh… 1920 is really fuzzy, guys!"

"Come on, is there anything at all you remember?" Marco pressed. "This is important. What is this place to me and Star?!"

Drew was wrestling with the implications of this room. "This random abandoned house in the hills outside of Echo Creek is connected to a magical princess from another dimension, the guy she was chosen to live with… and only became relevant to us on the day we all met… what the actual hell?"

"Huh," Mums said from the doorway. "When you think about it like that. It almost sounds like you brats were meant to be here."

Marco and Drew turned to him, shouting together in exasperation. "That's the screwed-up part!"

Flabber knocked on his own head with both hands. "I'm sorry! I really am, I just can't remember anything too far back. Wolfy would probably know!"

Star confronted the monsters. "What do you remember?!" She demanded.

Fangula shrugged his shoulders. "Nothing? We didn't wake from our slumber here until the Doctor passed in the 1930s. And some of us weren't keen on getting up even then."

Mums discreetly pointed at Fangula without looking at him. "This guy."

"If I'm going to wake up, I will wake up beautifully," Fangula declared.

"You must be sleepwalking champion of the Vampire Dimension," Mums muttered.

"I'll end you, mummy."

"Well, do you remember how you got here?" Jackie asked.

All three monsters shook their heads. "All we know is that one day we were here. There's a bit of a blank for me from about… 3500 years ago to 1939 AD."

"No remember," Frankenbeans said. "Only remember doctor make Frankie… then wakey wakey in house."

Fangula huffed. "I remember everything from my turning in my home dimension, coming to this dimension in 1730, and everything from then to about 1898."

Drew stopped overthinking the idea of destiny. "What happened in 1898?"

Fangula shrugged his shoulders. "I had a bite to eat, tucked into bed, and then woke up in 1948."

"None of this makes sense," Drew said.

"Wait, you're from another dimension?" Janna asked and went unheard.

"No, we just don't have all the facts," Marco said as he went for his phone. "Welp, time to call Dipper and have him do his mystery stuff."

Star's phone abruptly rang.

Worship the queen and you might could pass! Keep it real, these bitches couldn't wipe my ass!

"Wait, Brittney?" Star said as she pulled out her magic mirror compact. "Hey, Brittney this is a bad time–"

"Yeah, it's a bad time!" Brittney shouted. "Those Magnavore guys are attacking downtown! They've got jets and everything! People are running around trying to not get blasted or beaten up!"

Star looked around at the others. "The Magnavores are attacking Echo Creek."

Drew grew alarmed. "Wait, they're actually attacking the town, now?!"

At that moment, the house's PA clicked on and Misao called out. "Everyone, come down to the Beetle Battle Base right now! The Magnavores are attacking the town with Jet Fighters and a lot of Scabs! We're getting the AVs ready!"

Star turned her attention to the Magic Mirror. "Brittney, we'll be there as quick as we can!"

Without a moment's hesitation, she ended the call and used the Scissors to slash open a portal to the Beetle Battle Base, the teenagers all pouring into the command center where Roland and Jo were already transforming into the Hunterborg and Strikerborg. Dipper was already at the main console with Misao, both watching the computer screen as transcripts of police and EMS reports poured in and a map of Echo Creek's downtown, specifically the vicinity of Britta's Taco's, radiated red.

"How many are there?" Drew asked as he summoned his Beetle Bonder.

"At least a few dozen scabs and eight jet fighters," Dipper said.

Marco didn't like that. "A few dozen?! Where'd they get that many?!"

Drew sneered. "Today is just non-stop question after question." He held up his Beetle Bonder. "Beetle Blast!"

In a flash he transformed and turned to his fellow Beetleborgs. "Let's get to work!"

"We were waiting for you, twin," Hunterborg said.

Strikerborg pumped her fists in excitement. "I get to take to the air again." She looked at Misao. "And I'll definitely be mindful of what's happening on the ground."

Misao called back to Strikerborg. "I trust you!"

As the Beetleborgs turned and raced to their AVs, Dipper looked to their less armored friends. "Are you guys going out there, too?"

Marco looked at Star and Jackie, then at Dipper. "Well, we have to."

"Armor or not," Jackie said, "There's a lot of those Scab guys, right? We need everybody who can fight over there."

Star held up her wand. "I have a temporary solution. I don't know how long it'll last, though."

Mabel stepped up. "Then count me in, too!" There was no question from anyone. After Mabel's performance last week and yesterday, her joining was welcomed. "So, magic us up, girl! We have a town to save!"

Nodding, Star held her wand aloft. "RAINBOW SENTAI BATTLE ARMOR!"

With Star's command, the wand flashed to life and sprayed rainbow-colored energy that swirled out around herself, Marco, Mabel, and Jackie. The light spread over the four of them, becoming a bodysuit-like forcefield that was at its thickest a half-inch. It covered them from head to toe, sporting devil horns on Star's "helmet", a karate-belt shaped addition around Marco's waist, a whole shark tail sticking from the back of Jackie's suit, and the top of Mabel's suit shaped like the sweater she wore.

"I dub us… the MewRangers!" Star declared.

Marco turned and looked at her. "… We're not calling ourselves that."

Star stopped. "Right, got a little carried away." She focused and held up her Dimensional Scissors. "Let's get going!"

@@@@@​

It was chaos. People were running for their lives as they were chased by weapon-brandishing Scabs. Tires were screeching as townsfolk driving into the chaos abruptly turned around and drove away–only to abandon their vehicles and dive for cover as the Magnavore Jet Fighters dove low and strafed the streets.

Amidst the chaos, Brittney, Sabrina, and TC ran around the corner from the mob of Scabs and sprinted up a side street. Dudley was standing beside Brittney's G-Wagen while enjoying a bowl of pozole purchased from the restaurant for his lunch break. He'd barely noticed the chaos that was beginning, until he saw his brand-new employer and her companion approaching with another young man he did not recognize.

"Dudley! Get us out of here, before we get jumped!" Brittney shouted at her butler.

Despite the alarm in his charge's voice, Dudley could not help but feel elated to be called by his real name. "Is everything well, Master Brittney?"

"DOES IT LOOK LIKE IT?!" Brittney yelled at him before a quartet of Scabs fell from the sky and landed around her, Sabrina, and TC, blocking their route to Dudley while several more charged up behind them.

TC looked at the monsters, then at the two girls in his company and their elderly, doddering butler who began walking towards them. He hefted his bag. "Okay, we're getting jumped. How do we not die?"

"Pardon me," Dudley said as he approached them. "But disperse so that I may escort Master Brittney and her companions to safety–"

The Scab nearest to him turned and immediately brandished its flame-shaped blade, while making a sound between a screech and a swarm of metal wasps buzzing angrily in warning.

Still walking up to the Scab, Dudley lowered his right arm and then in a much faster motion reached up and plunged a stiletto knife into the dead center of the Scab's head.

"I was not making a request," he said as the Scab crumpled, dissolving into a pile of dying metal wasps.

The other Scabs immediately took more interest in Dudley, swarming towards him. But the seemingly innocuous old man calmly and efficiently dispatched each as they approached in the same manner, stabbing them clean through their heads as soon as they entered his range of attack.

Brittney, Sabrina, and TC watched, mouths agape, as the butler calmly walked around them and used his methodic violence to clear remaining the Scabs before stopping behind them and slipping the stiletto into his jacket.

"… Could you always do that?" Brittney asked as the last of the offending Scabs began to decay.

"Yes," Dudley replied.

"… Did your former employers know that?"

"Master Brittney, they couldn't be bothered to know my name."

Brittney and Sabrina looked at each other, then back at Dudley.

He clearly had the patience of a Saint for not murdering them himself.

"Now then, please get to the vehicle so that we may depart safely," Dudley ordered.

The girls quickly complied, TC not so much. "Hey, I'm not heading the same way you are. So I'm going to abscond elsewhere. You guys be safe."

Sabrina looked at the chaos down the street. "Are you sure?"

TC flashed her a smile. "I'll be fine, don't worry! I'll see you around… enjoy the shirts!"

With that he crossed the street and ran up it before ducking to his left into an alleyway. Shrugging her shoulders, Brittney took Sabrina's hand and led her off to the G-Wagen.

"Let's go, Star will be here any minute now and we don't want to be in the splash zone!"

The very moment they reached the car, Brittney's words rang true as the Green Hunter AV came around the corner in front of them and thundered past towards the corner and Britta's Tacos. Looking across the street in front of him, behind his helmet Roland scanned across the street at the Scabs causing havoc, target markers appearing over each of them. The blaster turrets atop the hull of the Hunter AV opened fire, the beams pummeling the Scabs without striking any of the fleeing pedestrians they were chasing around.

"God damn there's a lot of them!" Hunterborg said before his AV was rocked by several laser bolts from four strafing Magnavore Jet Fighters.

As the four crafts pulled out of their dive, bursts of laser fire from in front and below caused the fighters to spread out. Climbing to meet the ascending Jet Fighters, the Red Striker AV committed on the leading Jet Fighter, Jo ripple firing blasters that ripped through the fighter.

The exploding fighter came apart, becoming a cloud of dying and decomposing metal wasps that the fan-driven beetle-shaped fighter blasted through.

"And a bunch of fighters!" Strikerborg said as she chased after the lead Jet Fighter's wingmate, while keeping clear of bolts fired by the other two Jet Fighters that had quickly come around to pounce on her.

As the aircraft cut across the sky, down the street from the Hunter AV, the Stinger AV arrived on the scene and with the same machine precision opened fire on another group of Scabs. "How many of these things are they able to summon at once, now?"

A group of Scabs charged towards the Stinger AV racing towards them, brandishing their weapons. After making sure the path was clear of innocent people on the ground, Stingerborg lowered the horn of his AV and floored it, crashing through the crowd and scattering them away or running them under its wheels.

When he passed through the crowd, however, he came upon Barla, who brandished her sword and swung it down to meet the horn of the AV. With a clang, the Stinger AV came to an abrupt halt, and Drew lurched forward in his seat. "Ah… what the…!?"

Seeing Barla's face, his eyes widened in alarm. "Ah, crap, they got Barla?!"

Looked it, but the strength she used to proceed to flip the Blue Stinger AV into the air was anything but. Rather than flail, Drew recovered and worked the controls, firing off emergency thrusters that righted the AV and brought down on its wheels.

"Hunterborg, be careful!" He shouted out. "She's strong!"

"Man, I just saw her do that!" Roland called back as he fired blaster bolts at Barla.

Under the hail of fire, Barla spun her sword to cut down two bolts before swinging the blade twice to smack aside follow up shots. "Get out of those machines and fight me properly!"

The mouth of the dragon chestplate opened and fired a continuous beam that smashed into the Green Hunter AV, pushing it backward and damaging it.

"Hey, are you all right?!" Drew asked.

Roland nodded. "I'm good, it should be able to make it back."

Drew released the controls. "I'm going in."

Roland nodded. "You got this, cuh!"

Stingerborg launched himself from his AV and landed in a crouch in the middle of the chaotic street. Hearing him land, and his AV retreat, Barla turned and brandished her sword at him.

"The blue one who defeated Saberizer."

Stingerborg pulled out the Input Magnum into his left hand, then deployed the Stinger Blade over his right arm. "Yeah, I did."

Barla nodded. "That's a shame. I never got to measure myself against him after I received this armor." With that she prepared to attack. "Show me the determination you had that allowed you to defeat him!"

At once the two attacked one another, Stingerborg opening fire with the Input Magnum in Beam Mode. Barla raced straight in, the energy shots glancing harmlessly off her armor before she got close enough and slashed him across his armor chest with a downward diagonal stroke.

Sparks flying from his armor, Stingerborg tried to recover and strike back, but Barla was faster and swung upward vertically, cutting upwards over Drew's armor and knocking him off his footing completely.

Inside the armor, Drew was even more alarmed. She hits harder than Saberizer!

"I'm not done yet!" Barla shouted as she struck Stingerborg with a flurry of slashes, her arm and the blade she wielded a blur as sparks flew from the armor with each hit.

The barrage of attacks came to an abrupt halt when the Green Hunterborg caught her arm in the Hunter Claw. When Barla looked to her right, Hunterborg was aiming the Input Magnum at her face.

As soon as Roland fired, Barla turned her head, the Beam Bolts deflecting off the side of her helmet to hit the staggered Stingerborg in the chest and arm.

"Shit–!" Hunterborg yelled out before Barla pulled him in and punched him in the head. As he stepped back, she used her sword to pull him in front of her, then yanked her blade out from the grip of the claw. She then struck Hunterborg with a rising diagonal cut, disappeared, and reappeared behind him to strike Stingerborg with a descending strike in the opposite direction.

Turning around as Stingerborg toppled, she lunged to stab Hunterborg in the back but passed through his after image. His attempt at a super speed attack was foiled when she effortlessly parried the Hunter Claw from closing around her neck, then brutalized him with six quick, heavy hits that knocked him off his feet.

Landing on his back, Hunterborg looked at Stingerborg, who was getting up. "Hey, twin? I'm kinda mad that Strikerborg got to fight Hammer Kong but we're out the gate with this shit."

"Me too," Stingerborg said before Barla came at him again. When she swung her sword this time, however, Stingerborg successfully blocked and then parried the blade aside.

I have to go straight to using telekinesis to move myself! Drew thought as Barla recovered from the parry and countered his riposte. To her surprise, her next quick blows were either stopped out right or countered.

"There it is!" Barla said. "So you can fight!"

"It doesn't matter if I can or can't, I have to!" Stingerborg shouted back.

Sparks flew as their blades clashed again and again. "I have to protect people from creeps like you! So, don't make this out like it's something I'm doing for fun!"

Once more Barla was parried, and Drew winced from the pain of moving his arm with such violence. "The last guy who talked that kind of shit, I cut him and that sword of his in half!"

Rather than moving himself with his Telekinesis, he moved Barla, grabbing her and throwing her with all his might into the side of one of the cars abandoned and burning since the start of the attack. She went into it with such force that she went through the frame, rending it in half before hitting one of the picnic tables in front of Britta's tacos and reducing it to splinters.

Shaking her head, Barla sat up. "What did he hit me with? Telekinesis?"

That wasn't what actually bothered her, though as she watched Stingerborg enter a combination on his Input Magnum and open fire upon her with a blue ray of frosty energy. Quickly her cloak transformed into a set of wings, and she launched herself into the air above the freezing beam.

Stingerborg watched her race into the sky, high above him. "She can fly, too?!"

At the Beetle Battle Base, Dipper watched the battle unfold with chagrin. "She's not in any of our databases, I don't think we've gotten to her comic yet."

Misao turned to Janna. "Janna? Go take Gargantis out, so you can support them. They're going to need more firepower."

Janna perked up. "Wait, really?"

"Yes!" Misao said. "Schnell!"

As Barla rose above the battlefield, she looked down and found a sight she didn't expect. Her Scabs were under attack, not by the Beetleborgs but what appeared to be the others Jara described.

On the ground, Marco high-kicked a Scab in the head with such force that its head disintegrated, before he switched and kicked with his other leg to strike another Scab in the chest, throwing it onto its back. Behind him Jackie, armed with another spear, slapped another Scab terrorizing some civilians across the head before she quickly brought her weapon back and stabbed it where a human's nose would be.

Twisting the spear, she wrenched the weapon out of the Scab's head and spun the weapon around before using the razor-sharp head of the weapon to cut deeply into two more Scabs and then stab a third.

Marco dipped his body while sidestepping the wild swing of a Scab's short sword, before he back handed it with his right fist and then delivered a left cross that wrenched its head at a bad angle. He then turned and swung the back of his right heel into its neck, snapping the head off completely. As it dissolved, yet another Scab jumped in, succeeding in stabbing Marco in the chest and causing him to stumble back.

Star's spell held, with only a few sparks flying from the contact. "Is this what it feels like for the Beetleborgs? I felt that!" He crossed his arms to block a vertical swing from the Scab, before Mabel intervened with a flying drop kick that sent the Scab crashing to the ground.

Marco capitalized, running up to and bringing his foot down on the robot's head, crushing it and cracking the pavement underneath.

"I'd be having a lot more fun if they weren't messing with people who've got nothing to do with this, and my tacos!" He shouted out.

"Yeah, we have a lot on our minds!" Star, further behind the others, shouted as she raised her wand. "Rainbow Avalanche!"

The stream of rainbows crashed into multiple Scabs, battering and then tearing them apart while also avoiding nearby civilians scrambling for cover. Turning towards a Scab, Star swung the wand at it as she shouted another spell. "Super Heart Slap!"

A light in the shape of a heart appeared around her wand as it connected with the Scab, both blowing its head off and sending its body flying. "I am so happy for this distraction!"

"And so many things to break!" Mabel cheered as she grabbed a Scab that cut across her magically armored body, doing no damage, and picked it up to slam onto another Scab that joined in the first's attack.

As soon as they were down Jackie fell on them both, stabbing one and then the other each in the head. She then turned and swung the weapon like a golf club, bodily bisecting another Scab's head. "So many things! I don't like that there's so many, dude!"

Barla observed the brawl with interest as she noticed most of the civilians caught up in her attack either open the distance from the brawl or film it with their phones. Another thing she noticed from on high was the universal flashes of red and blue as police established a perimeter around the area rather than barging straight in.

"… They're not moving in themselves," she said aloud.

A cascade of energy bolts danced off her armor and she looked down to see the Stingerborg and Hunterborg shooting up at her with their Input Magnums. Unharmed by the weapons, she merely sniffed in derision–before much heavier bolts slammed into her back, causing an explosion that propelled her forward.

Stopping herself, she turned around to see the Red Striker AV hovering there, its beam cannons swiveling slightly to focus on her before firing another barrage.

"You didn't forget about me, did you?!" Strikerborg asked as Barla swiftly evaded the next attack. "Well, of course she'd evade now."

As Barla turned and attacked, Jo redlined the throttle and evaded the lunge before pivoting the fans and accelerating away. "Hey, Misao!"

"Ja?" She asked.

"I'm going to need to focus on flying, can you shoot for me from the Battle Base?"

After a brief moment, Misao answered. "As a matter of fact, I can! I'm connected to the Red Striker AV, now!"

"I figured you'd be able to." With that, the Red Strikerborg pulled her AV into a high-speed climb.

Barla gave pursuit, scanning the sky for the Jet Fighters she came with. To her surprise there were none. "Did the red one shoot them all down that quickly?!"

Above her, the Red Strike AV's body flipped over while the fans kept driving it upward. Seeing the barrels, Barla stopped and boosted back. Turning completely over upside down, Jo flipped the fans to match the body's orientation and plummeted straight down. As the Red Striker AV fell, Misao locked the beam cannons onto Barla and fired with a precision that surprised both the Dragonslayer and Strikerborg. Almost every bolt from the short burst hit, engulfing Barla in smoke.

"Whoa, nice shooting!" Strikerborg said as she adjusted the throttles to flip her AV over, then oriented them to race away from the cloud.

"Nice flying!" Misao complimented back. "How do you do it so well?"

"Please, I've played every Reddle-centric flight shooter since I was eight! Sure, they were buggy and some of them triggered epileptic seizures for some weird reason, but they taught me a bunch about how this thing moves!"

Dipper, overhearing that, said aloud. "It may have to do with the fact that anything Beetleborgs related comes from the Nightmare Realm and adaptations are some kind of cognitive hazard. I mean… look at the movie."

Misao nodded. "That makes sense."

As the smoke cleared, Barla was taking aim at the Red Striker AV with her Dragon Chestplate. As the dragon's mouth began to glow, however, she was bombarded again from the ground by Stingerborg and Hunterborg. Once more, the weapons did nothing to phase her.

"Useless!" Barla declared before opening fire. The beam shot across the sky, and she was certain the attack would hit, but the Red Striker AV narrowly rolled clear and used said roll to come back around at high speed.

"Holy crap!" Strikerborg said as she closed in, Misao targeting and striking Barla a few more times. "Barla is freaking crazy!"

Drew followed the Dragonslayer's movements across the sky. "That armor is too tough for the Input Magnums, and Strikerborg is literally just annoying her."

Star, fortunately, had a solution to that immediate crisis. "Honeybee Tornado Swarm!"

A beam of yellow light from Star's wand struck Barla, and quickly manifested in a swarm of extremely angry honeybees that began stinging her everywhere they could reach to no effect.

"Is this some kind of joke?!" Barla said before a portal opened directly above her, revealing Star aiming her wand at her on the other side.

"SUPER RAINBOW FIST PUNCH!"

A massive rainbow-fist connected with and smashed Barla down into the street below before dissipating into a festive colorful cloud.

In the fist-shaped crater made by the impact, Barla stood up. "… How…?"

The Dragon chest plate's eyes lit up, and Barla quickly brought her sword up to parry Stingerborg up and away as he attacked from her front. As he was knocked off his footing, her whole body flickered to block Hunterborg swinging the Hunter Claw like a sword.

"You should stay down!" She snapped at him.

"Stop your yapping and box!" Hunterborg shouted back.

As if teleporting, both switched places, their weapons meeting again, before Hunterborg abruptly vanished and then appeared on Stingerborg's other side, slammed into the ground by a haymaker from Barla's free hand as she appeared above him.

Before she could move with her own super speed again, Stingerborg grabbed her with his telekinesis while entering Crash Mode into the Input Magnum. He jammed the barrel of the weapon into her face and opened fire, performing the equivalent of a mag-dump until an alarm warned him of overheating.

When he pulled the weapon back, he was surprised to see a demon-like mask over Barla's face, before it opened to reveal her own unarmed visage and the dragon's mouth opened to blast Drew in the chest with another beam.

Freed from his telekinetic grasp, Barla raised the sword over her head with both hands and plunged the blade down from overhead to impale Stingerborg through the chest.

Using his telekinesis, Stingerborg threw himself out of the way of Barla's blade. As the weapon slipped deep into the ground, almost to the hilt, Barla looked to her right at him, before movement to her left prompted her to rip her blade up out of the ground to strike Hunterborg in the gut with the pommel.

As Hunterborg was doubled over by the attack, Strikerborg dropped from her AV and landed in a crouch behind her, the Striker Plasmar already spinning at max RPM.

"TORNADO SPARK!" Strikerborg yelled, the large bolt of energy generated from the weapon slamming into Barla and throwing her down the street, towards Britta's Tacos.

Before she could smash into and destroy the restaurant, she was struck by another Rainbow Fist Punch that knocked her into the street next to the restaurant.

Barla shook her head, surprised again by the force of the blow, before Marco fell on her with a flying kick she blocked with the flat of her sword. Putting both feet on the blade, Marco jumped off it, avoiding Barla's parrying slash.

Star slid under Marco, wand aimed for her chestplate. "Winterstorm Hyperblow!"

And then Barla was blasted with a beam of ice that completely encased her. As her chestplate's eyes flashed and the thick ice began to crack, Mabel came running in from her left, jumped, and performed a flying roundhouse kick that shattered the ice and sent Barla stumbling towards the center of the intersection.

"All together now!" She shouted out. "JUMP THIS LOSER!"

Barla raised her sword and swung before Hunterborg intervened with super speed and blocked her strike. As soon as their blades met, Jackie used her spear to catch the sword between itself and the Hunter Claw.

Barla broke the lock and slashed both Jackie and Roland. Star's protection barely held for her, but the wind was still knocked out of her as she caught herself. Roland, having taken the brunt of the hit, outright tumbled along the ground away from her.

Just as quickly as those two were discarded, Marco slammed a right hook into the side of the Dragonslayer's head, surprising her with the force of the strike. She performed a sweeping strike with her sword, but Marco ducked under it to bring up his right heel to connect with the other side of her head.

Barla felt that one, too.

These children…! She thought in disbelief as she recovered and swung her sword down. They're not fighting like children at all!

Jackie interrupted her slash even as Marco jumped clear, stabbing her just above the chestplate with the spear. "Dude, go down already!"

Both she and Marco turned and connected roundhouse kicks to Barla's chest, actually knocking her off her footing before Stingerborg grabbed her with telekinesis again. As Marco and Jackie jumped back, Strikerborg stepped in and punched Barla in the stomach with all her might, lifting the Dragonslayer off her feet.

Stingerborg then slammed her into the ground, and Strikerborg raised her left foot to stomp Barla down and create a hole in the street with her and Barla at the bottom of it.

Lying at the bottom of the hole, Barla stared up in surprise at the Red Strikerborg. "… Such ferocity!"

Strikerborg raised her foot again. "Yeah, we're not playing around!"

There was a blast of light and Jo was sent flying from the hole by an energy blast from the chestplate's mouth. As Strikerborg left the hole, Star leaped over it, aiming her wand straight down at Barla. "THERMONUCLEAR BUTTERFLY BLAST!"

Barla's eyes grew wide. "Thermo–WHAT?!"

A column of rainbow colored light soon rose from the hole in the street, which then became a localized explosion that shot skyward above Echo Creek. Out of the very small mushroom cloud that rose from the street, Star came flipping out and landed with Marco, Jackie, Mabel, and the Beetleborgs.

"Good hustle!" Mabel praised them.

Star looked at Jackie. "You okay?"

"I'm fine," Jackie replied. "Thanks for the protection."

Star beamed. "Just imagine how good the real armor will be!"

Marco called over. "Uh, guys? Focus. There's no way she's done."

He was right. Barla immediately leaped from the smoldering crater of Jo and Star's creation, and she landed with enough force to crack the pavement beneath her feet. Slowly, she walked towards the group, her eyes narrowing as she lowered her sword rather than raise it for a new attack.

"It is to my understanding that Vexor wants some of you alive," she said as she reached the middle of the intersection in front of them. She pointed at Star. "You." She then pointed at Stingerborg. "And you. "If you surrender now, then this chaos will cease, and I will allow the rest of you to leave without further harm."

"Yeah, no," Strikerborg snapped back.

"What kind of offer is that?!" Mabel asked. "Sure, we'll give you the keys to conquering the Earth, what's the worst that could happen?!"

"Oh, the worst that will happen is if you refuse," she said before she was engulfed in a black, flame-like aura–both her own eyes and the dragon chest plate's glowing an ominous yellow through the darkness wreathing her.

Dipper did not like that. "Guys, she's ramping up the power!"

Those protected by Star's spell could feel the heat and pressure radiating from her through the protection. Jackie in particular was stunned. "Dude, how is she so strong…?!"

"It's that armor," Jo said.

Something about what Barla said, however, had caught Drew's attention. Stepping forward, he called out to her. "Go ahead. Do your worst."

Barla paused. "Hm?"

Marco looked at Drew. "Hey, maybe not call the scary dragon lady's bluff?"

Drew ignored him. "I said go ahead and try. We're not going to surrender anyone to you, and we're not going down without a fight, either!"

Star agreed with him, raising her wand like a batter anticipating a fast ball. "Yeah! You want the smoke? You're getting it and the fire!"

Marco shrugged his shoulders and got ready to fight. "Yeah, we're just getting started and you're by yourself out here."

Jackie aimed her spear at her. "We're not afraid of you."

Hunterborg prepared the Hunter Claw. "We've beaten enough of you clowns to know we'll beat you, too!"

Strikerborg punched her palm, creating a thunderous sound. "So come on, square up!"

A few moments passed, and the group of warriors watched Barla's grip tighten on the blade and her teeth clench, hints of frustration that gave away her hoping for them to fold rather than call.

Underneath his helmet, Drew almost felt vindicated. She's different from the others.

Out of nowhere, Janna joined the call. "Hey, Sad Kid. Can you link up what you're seeing to Gargantis?"

Drew gave a start. "Gargantis?" He didn't hesitate to comply. "But wait, hold on. It needs the Input Magnums to work, how is it connected?"

Atop the hills that formed the valley Hillhurst Mansion sat in, a massive Hercules Beetle-shaped robot with a black, silver, and yellow body stomped into position, shaking the ground beneath it. Its upper horn, shaped into the mix of a jet fighter with a very, very big cannon, was lowered and aimed into the town.

Inside the cockpit of the machine, Janna sat in the middle of set of five seats that made up the cockpit. "Don't worry about that, just um…" She broke into a grin when Barla as Drew saw her appeared on the panoramic cockpit screen in front of her, and the position data allowed Gargantis to lock onto her with its main weapon, the Beet Cannon. "… Get clear."

Stingerborg looked back at the others. "MOVE!"

Everyone scattered clear, to Barla's confusion, as inside the cockpit Janna received an alert that the Beet Cannon was ready to fire. "Satisfy my destructive urges, Gargantis!" She called out. "Beet Cannon, FIRE!"

The Beet Cannon erupted, the multi-colored beam passing over Echo Creek and reaching Barla as she turned to see it. Her eyes widening, she tried to move but realized she was being held in place by Stingerborg's telekinesis. She closed her eyes tight before her mask slipped over it and extra armor covered her exposed arms and legs.

The beam smashed into her, pushing her up the street and carving a narrow trench into it, the angle of the blast eventually drove her under the street and then under the ground and sewers beneath that before it finally cut out.

Strikerborg looked at the damage done, then at the distant Gargantis. "… Dude."

Jackie was of the exact same thought. "Uh… dude."

Star was in awe. "… That was so cool…!"

Steam hissed from vents along the barrel of the Beet Cannon, as Janna hugged herself in satisfaction.

"Oh yes, that felt good."

There was a small explosion, as Barla erupted from the ground and landed behind the crater she made, parts of her now full armor still glowing red hot and wisping smoke as she glared death at her opponents. She looked around, seeing no signs of her remaining Scabs, and realized that the other four must've destroyed them.

"A fine display," she commended them, "But this is only the start."

With that promise, she raised her sword to her chest in salute and vanished in a burst of black flame.

= - = 8-6 = - =​

I think the biggest take away from this chapter, is everything that happened in this chapter.

 

[The Ero-Sennin]

And with the end of the battle, we walk into the aftermath of the battle.

= - = 8-7 = - =

|Defensive|​

As Barla observed, a police perimeter had been established by the authorities, the Echo Creek Police Department was bolstered by the LA County Sheriff's Office, Los Angeles Police Department, and Glendale Police Department. Throughout the battle, SWAT Teams from the latter departments had gone in and aided in the evacuation of civilians from inside the perimeter, while several heavily armed units proceeded closer to the scene.

Overhead, the Magnavore Jet Fighters had kept manned news helicopters out of the scene, but large quadrotor drones had no such concerns and had their cameras on the battle right up to the moment a great flash of light beamed down from the San Gabriels and ended the fight in an instant.

When some of those cameras pointed towards the source, they saw no sign of the new attacker. News reporters from all over Los Angeles were covering the incident broadcast all over the city.

"… As you can see right now, whatever attacked the monster invading Echo Creek has vanished. We're unsure if it was another attack from the magical girl, Star Butterfly or something else."

In the Diaz home, Rafael and Angie were both cheering in relief at their son and charge standing victorious again. Elise, however, had her face scrunched in consternation. Behind her, standing by the door, were two plain clothes Detectives of the Echo Creek Police Department. An African American male in his late 30s with short-shaved hair, wearing a suit and sunglasses, and a Japanese American woman in her late 20s with bright red hair, and her own styled suit and sunglasses combo.

"For those of you just tuning in now, we're covering yet another attack on the town of Echo Creek by heavily armed and aggressive members of an unknown organization. As previously, this attack has been foiled by a group of young people local to the area, described by some as 'teenagers with attitude' and 'a bunch of weirdos.'"

In Middleton, Colorado, Ron Stoppable looked up from his meal at Bueno Nacho at one of the televisions in the restaurant showing the crisis underway in Echo Creek. "I wouldn't call them weirdos, they all seemed pretty cool."

Across from them, Kim Possible had a worried expression. "Well… so much for no one taking them seriously…"

Next to her, Kim's boyfriend Eric narrowed his eyes a bit. "Yeah, if the news is covering it like this, then they're no longer small-time heroes getting into cosplay fights, are they?"

Seated beside Ron, Bonnie Rockwaller fed a nacho cheese slathered tortilla chip to Ron's naked mole rat Rufus, while she leaned against Ron. "So… are you guys going back to help?"

"If they ask," Kim replied.

"This is just the latest in a series of escalating incidents that came to the attention of law enforcement in the Los Angeles area, following the sighting of Unidentified Flying Objects and the discharge of energy weapons in the airspace over Echo Creek, and a more dramatic incident the following day where a Goodyear Blimp was attacked and brought down. The crew of the blimp in that incident suffered only minor injuries and are expected to make full recoveries."

At his home, Shermie Pines watched the news grimly, his attention focused on the drone image capturing his Granddaughter and their friends standing out in the open–clearly in discussion over their recent battle. His right hand rested atop Waddles head, the pig lazing on the couch next to him. "Haven't seen this kind of craziness downtown since the King riots."

He looked down at the pig. "Think girlchik will mind if you tag along for some good ol' fashioned gunrunning? If they're making the evening news, don't think I can put off the trip any longer."

Waddles, looking at the TV, oinked in agreement.

"A government source who's spoken under condition of anonymity has stated that the serial escalation of the conflict in Echo Creek has been brought under the scrutiny of not only state but Federal law enforcement–going as high as the Department of Defense."

Dipper and Misao stared at the latter's phone, after the latter received a text message from Elise advising her–urgently–to bring up the local news and watch.

"Maybe sending Janna out was a bad idea," Misao said.

"No, we needed the firepower to push her back," Dipper decided. "And we may need even more of it."

He looked up at the main computer screen and two windows open on it. One showing Gargantis' current status and the other showing Gargantis in an alternate configuration: its large silver carapace opened and the three AVs mounted on its unfolded back.

"… And we've just received word that the police are slowly closing the perimeter on the teenage vigilantes, in order to detain them for questioning."

The news was only reporting what was already happening, for on the street in front of Britta's, the LA County Sheriff, LAPD, and Glendale Police Department SWAT Teams that had been creeping towards the group exited their cover and approached them with Carbine Rifles, Submachine Guns, and Shotguns trained, shouting orders to get on the ground and place their hands behind their heads.

Unsurprisingly, given they'd just fought an extremely powerful creature from another dimension, they were not immediately moved to comply by the display.

"Oh, the cops are here," Jo said, "This is not surprising but still very inconvenient."

Jackie was downright indignant. "Dude, I am not getting arrested for helping people."

It was about then that Dipper called in. "You guys need to get out of there, the cops are moving in to arrest you."

Mabel chimed back. "They're trying!"

Roland was tense. "So… we have to exit."

Drew agreed. "Yeah, but how without them getting really determined to chase us down?"

Misao radioed in. "Our legal representation says that you can disengage and leave the scene as long as you don't make any aggressive action but suggests that one of you should stay to distract the cops. She'll get you out without any charges."

Marco looked at the others. "I'll give them someone to take in. You guys get out of here."

Jackie looked at him, worried. "Dude, don't."

"If Elise says she can get one of us out, then fine. It'll give them someone to yell at."

Mabel nodded. "And feel good about themselves for not being able to do anything else."

"The po-po do be like that," Jo lamented.

Drew turned to Marco, grateful. "Thanks, Marco… and be careful, okay?"

"Yeah, bruh, you're a real one," Roland praised.

Jackie looked even more conflicted as Marco looked back at them and offered a weak smile.

Star, on the other hand, quickly caught Marco in a hug. "Thank you, Marco. I'll see you soon, okay? I'm not going to deactivate the spell so they can't rough you up, too much."

Marco hugged her back. "Thank you, mi cariñito."

Pulling from her, Marco placed his hands behind his head, got down on his knees, and then laid flat on the ground. Star quickly cut a portal open with the Dimensional Scissors, and she, the Beetleborgs, Mabel, and lastly Jackie took off through the portal. As it closed behind them, the combined SWAT Teams rushed over and placed Marco–still under the protection of Star's Rainbow Sentai spell–in handcuffs.

Overhead, the news channel drones captured the scene in the highest quality, a reporter offering a play by play.

"… The police are moving in and have detained one of the vigilantes, but it appears the others have used some kind of portal technology to escape apprehension…"

At Zoom Comics, Heather watched the unfolding news with a hand over her mouth in quiet shock. At one of the tables, Alfonso and Ferguson were in disbelief.

"Dude… they got Marco," Ferguson said in dismay.

"Free Marco! This will not stand!" Alfonso declared. "This is considered by the Pixie Kingdom an act of war!"

Behind the cash register, Nano scowled angrily at the pathetic display on television. "I'm about to go down to the station and flip that whole mother upside down!"

As Heather nodded in agreement, she noticed out the corner of her eye someone walking past the front of the shop outside. It was TC, now wearing a black hoodie with the same picture as on his t-shirt and pulling the hood up and over his hat as he walked.

In a living room not too far from Echo Creek, a young man with messy black hair and lighter brown highlights running through it, dark blue eyes, and dressed in a stained blue hoodie and baggy beige pants sank into his couch with a look of utter disgust as he watched the police, and the media reporting make a big show of apprehending one of their suspects.

"… From 'young people local to the area' to 'vigilantes' in the span of a news report," the young man said bitterly. "That must be a record."

Getting up, he grabbed the television remote and threw it with all his might into the television screen. It struck with such force that it punched a hole through the screen and out the back. He turned away from the destroyed TV and headed for the stairs to his room.

"Whoops, looks like Dad will have to use his next paycheck for a new TV."

@@@@@​

At Noxic's workshop, the factory assembling Scabs was well underway, with Noxic himself nodding appreciatively as he oversaw the work. "The first batch did pretty well, overall. I gotta say."

Jara sat at a table; her right hand flat on its surface while she stabbed the spaces between her fingers at increasing speed with her short sword. "They could be better, though. Why haven't you bothered?"

Noxic placed his hands on his hips. "The Commander Types are a few circuit-boards removed from my bespoke creations. I ain't giving any of those to Vexor!"

Typhus, who was sitting across from Jara, chimed in. "The Commanders also have their own personalities and can talk. And uh… you know how that sorta thing goes with Noxic, baby."

Noxic turned around to face Typhus. "Hey! The Commanders work! I programmed them based off Jara, so they got discipline, honor, and all that warrior stuff she likes!"

Jara almost stabbed through the table. "… They do now?"

Quickly, her mechanical friend backtracked. "Conceptually, on paper. I haven't actually built any Commanders nor programmed their AI."

This was a lie.

Jara knew this.

Noxic knew that she knew. And so did Typhus.

Barla arrived before she could properly interrogate Noxic about the last known status of these conceptual, on paper, units programmed after her likeness. The black dragon armored warrior was in one piece, physically at least, and her armor had receded to its lighter state. Her face, however, bore a mask of turmoil that even Noxic could recognize at a glance–being friends with Jara for so long had taught him much.

"Barla!" Jara said as she yanked her sword out of the table. "The Scabs were destroyed, but their last report showed you doing well. How did the battle end?"

Marching up to Jara, Barla grabbed her shoulder and got close to her. "You are underestimating them."

Jara's mood soured. "I am doing no such thing! They are children, Barla, they are not like us!"

Without hesitating, Barla shouted right back at her. "We were children once, too, Jara! We were once unsure and without focus, surviving by providence, and winning by any means because we had nothing else but the determination to survive!"

Noxic almost physically lit up and rushed to Typhus' side. "Hey, buddy! More Jara lore!" He whispered excitedly.

"Shut up, I'm tryna listen!" Typhus whispered back.

"You called them children playing out a fantasy," Barla said sternly. "I saw none of that when I faced the one who felled Saberizer. Or as the others actually fought like they understood their mission."

Jara sneered. "They read comic books like they are addicts. Anything that comes out of their mouths is probably taken verbatim from that trash."

"Conviction is more than words! I think you've spent too long with your client to remember what that is!"

Barla's words sent a flash of fury through Jara. "I remember what conviction is just fine! There is none of that with any of those children. Much less the Butterfly or that blue-wearing lucky idiot!"

"Lucky is surviving one battle. How many have you fought with them that has seen you come back here, stewing in your injured pride and resentment?" Barla demanded. "How many times did they best you before you thought to bring Saberizer here, only for HIM to be defeated?! You call that luck?!"

"I call that being saved by their powers, not by anything of their own!"

Barla's eyes flashed yellow, before she viciously slapped Jara across her face. The force of the blow was enough to knock Jara's mask clean off, sending it clattering to the ground towards the pile of scrap that bordered Noxic's workshop. Armored cape and all, Jara staggered to the side, frozen in shock.

Her face twisted in rage; Barla seethed. "You are not the Commander I fought alongside. The woman who helped me defeat a Star Eating Dragon and forged its body into this armor as a mark of pride and confidence in my abilities."

Tears welled up in Barla's eyes. "You're nothing but a pathetic shell, so torn up over being beaten by 'mere children' when the woman I remember would have been impressed and sought to bring them into her ranks. Or would regard them with actual respect."

She turned away from her. "I'm confident that Saberizer would've acknowledged being defeated by that boy in the blue armor. In fact, I am certain he did. What I do not know is what happened to you that made you so wretched."

She glanced back at her, but only briefly. "From now on, I will be taking orders only from the client. Do not show yourself before me, Jara. I cannot bear the sight of you."

With a nod, Barla disappeared in a burst of black flame. Left wrecked in her wake, Jara slowly sank to the ground, still frozen in shock and disbelief.

Typhus and Noxic had been so excited for Jara lore, but now they most certainly were not. Both looked at one another, unsure of what to do as they looked from Jara to her dislodged mask, and then back at her. She was not facing them, thank goodness, so neither could see her face–or the look they could only imagine on it.

Unsure of what to say, Typhus got up from the chair. "Hey, Jara, baby… do you need a minute…?"

It felt like an eternity had passed, before she replied. "More than a minute."

Typhus nodded and turned to Noxic. "Hey, we gotta get ready for phase two anyway. Let's give her some room."

Noxic agreed. "Hey, Jara, if you need to blow off some steam, you can have a couple Scabs to trash. Just give the command, okay?"

With that, Jara's two companions nodded their heads and also departed in flashes of fire.

Left alone in the workshop, Jara looked at her mask, lying in the dirt but facing as if to stare back at her. It was a face she'd gotten so used to seeing that she'd long forgotten what her actual face looked like.

Slowly, she brought her fingerless gloved hand up to her right cheek. Touching her skin, she almost flinched at the sensation as she kept staring at the mask.

"Barla…" She said quietly. "… You could never understand. You never will."

Vivid images flashed behind before her eyes. Comrades frozen in stone, locked in horror, casting long shadows beneath a light that caused even the sun to leave a shadow. Of a smiling face like an angel in the terrifying heart of that incandescence, with glowing marks on its cheeks.

She shook her head, banishing that nightmare from her sight. The pure rage and vile disgust the memory stained in her almost drove her to retch, but she held her composure.

"I cannot, I will not accept defeat from those things, even if I must die."

Once more she shook her head as the image of Star Butterfly jumped at her.

"Not another Butterfly, and certainly not a child treating our lives and pain like a game–a joke."

The image of the Blue Stingerborg haunted her with as much searing pain.

"Not after that day."

@@@@@​

Marco had been taken to the Echo Creek Police Department, and promptly brought to an interrogation room in handcuffs. Rather than a concrete room with a cold and intimidating atmosphere, it was rather cozy and professional with a carpeted floor, comfortable couch and a chair beside it, a desk and chair combo across from the couch, and a wooden door. It seemed like a school counselor's office–except for the CCTV cameras in each corner of the room.

Since he'd been taken into custody, he hadn't uttered a word to anyone, as instructed. The police didn't make it easy, either, trying to strike up a conversation about everything on the way to the station and from the unloading zone to this interrogation room. Since they did not take him in for booking, he realized that he was not under arrest, which made him wonder why they had him in here.

Good, Elise really will get me out of here without trouble, he thought, before he looked around and realized. Wow, I've been detained by the cops… this is gonna do big numbers at school.

He couldn't not be excited by that idea. Not only was he technically taken into police custody, but they had to get the SWAT Team on him, and it was on some BS reasonings. The bad boy was actually a hero, and still getting heat for it!

A thought then occurred to him, that the main reasons he wanted to be a bad boy was so that people would not drag him for being the Safe Kid… but since that day a few weeks back, he was friends with people that were already more important to him than popularity.

The door opened, then, and Marco looked up as a woman wearing a lime-green business casual suit walked in. At first sight, everything about the woman screamed "Karen", from her shoulder length blonde hair, the light makeup applied in vain to hide the lines of middle age, and the sheer contemptuous look she had the very moment she looked down on him. In her left hand she carried a clipboard with a single sheet of paper on it.

"Mr. Marco Ubaldo Diaz, am I correct?" She asked with the enunciation of a teacher who had a delinquent dead to rights.

He didn't reply, exercising his right to remain silent while avoiding eye contact with the woman. She looked at the paper again, then let out a short quick laugh. "You're in High School, so I don't need to ask if you realize your initials spell out MUD."

That stung. Marco really didn't like his middle name, but he held his tongue. She was trying to get a rise out of him, get him to say even one word.

Seeing that she got nothing, the woman took a seat at the desk and folded one leg over the other. "My name is Tara Bouger, I'm a special investigator with the Glendale Police Department, working as part of a task force with the Echo Creek Police Department, Los Angeles Police Department, and LA County Sheriff's office."

She tapped on the paper. "Young man, do you realize how much trouble you're in, with what you've done, today?"

Marco almost immediately wanted to ask, "What do you mean what I've done?" but once again, he realized she was trying to get him to do exactly that. He held his tongue and kept looking away from her.

Tara's eyes narrowed at his lack of response, and she looked down at the paper. "From the looks of things, you're running around with a very dangerous looking crowd. Getting into fights in the streets, causing property damage, and wielding some pretty exotic weapons with the intent to harm."

She looked up from the paper at him and got no response. "To say nothing of the people you're fighting with, who we have no idea what kind of crap they're on. What is it? A rival gang? Another cosplay crew muscling on your turf? Is there someone pulling some strings, giving you an incentive to get out there and cause trouble?"

Again, Marco said nothing.

"Because we don't know what's going on," she continued, "Which is why we had to arrest you."

Marco knew he wasn't arrested. He was being detained but not arrested. He did not realize cops could just lie like that.

"Are you going to keep quiet like this? Because we need to know what's going on before people start getting hurt, Mr. Diaz, so we can work together here and bring in whoever is responsible for all this violence."

Bring them in? Marco really could not imagine Jara, Typhus, or even Noxic obediently being booked like common criminals. It would never happen, not in a billion years, and he was pretty sure no one in this police station could bring them in if they tried.

Tara leaned forward slightly, her eyes hard despite her empathetic appeal. "Who's making you do this? Who's putting you out there in harm's way, kiddo?"

Marco glanced out the corner of his eye at Tara, and when she sat back to wait for his answers expectantly, he looked away again. This seemed to get a rise out of the woman, who bristled slightly at Marco's silence.

"It's in your best interest to come clean," Tara explained. "We've got you attached to a lot of things, and how that plays out for you in court depends entirely on if you can clarify how involved you are."

She was trying to scare him with threats of facing a judge. Was Marco a criminal? Of course not, he was fairly sure coming to the defense of others and defending himself was not a crime. Not that he'd speak up to defend himself. He was starting to wonder what she'd say next to try to scare him. Maybe something about his school record and how badly an arrest would look for his future?

"And we want to avoid that," Tara continued. "You don't have a record, and from what we know about you… you're a top student at your school with healthy college prospects. UCLA isn't going to like any kind of gang affiliations."

Huh, he called it.

Also, gang affiliations? Kim did say that cosplay heroes and villains were a thing, how bad was it?

Both he and Tara sat in silence after that, Marco stonewalling her efforts at getting any words from her and the woman clearly not liking the impasse. Every so often he'd glance at her, and see the corners of her lips tug downward, or the wrinkles on her forehead furrow as she sought an angle or opening to get him to speak up.

Suddenly, a small smile played on her lips, like she'd found something. "You don't want to worry your parents, do you?"

Marco tensed. She was going there, wasn't she?

"They seem like decent folks, but you and that exchange student living with you… your actions aren't going to reflect kindly on them," she pointed out. "Especially if we can find proof that your parents are encouraging this kind of reckless endangerment."

She stopped. "I mean, most certainly your exchange student friend will have to go back to her home… wherever that is, but…" She looked at the paper again, then at his face. "You do realize if your father does get in trouble for this, he's going back to where he came from and will never be allowed back here, right?"

Anger flashed over Marco's face, and he slowly looked back at the woman. He'd seen that look in her eyes as their gazes met, a genuine enjoyment that she got a reaction out of him, a pleasure in that she knew exactly what button to hit and how hard to hit it.

It reminded him too much of that vapidly smug and superior face of one Trip ex-Vanderhoff.

"We don't want that any more than you do, Mr. Diaz," she continued. "So, cooperate with us here. Tell us what's going on."

Marco stood stone still, staring at the woman, everything but his lips moving as he shook in anger.

The door opened, and two Echo Creek Police Department Detectives walked in. An African American male in his late 30s with short-shaved hair, and a Japanese American woman in her late 20s with bright red hair. Both wore sharp suit and sunglasses combos, and both were accompanied by Elise.

"Special Investigator Bouger, I am Detective Xavier Bishop of the Echo Creek Police Department, and this is my partner, Detective Mirai Hashimoto." The first detective introduced himself in a deep commanding baritone. "With us is the legal representative for Mr. Marco Diaz, Elise Dinkleman."

Marco sagged in relief when he saw Elise. Finally, he could get out of here. In that brief moment, he had never been angrier at anyone. Not even Trip, not even Toffee… he was already exhausted, and this felt like the worst night of his short life.

Tara stood up and greeted them. "Oh, detectives. Lawyer."

There was an icy, and dismissive tone when she said lawyer, like she was speaking to an insect.

"Yes, I am a Lawyer," Elise replied. "With Baxter and Taylor. You've heard of them, yes?"

At the mention of "Baxter and Taylor," Marco saw a glorious thing. All the color seemed to drain from Tara's formerly smug face as if she'd just been locked in a room with a very large, very hungry grizzly bear and there was a freshly killed deer leg tied directly to her neck.

She quickly coughed and tried to recompose herself. "I'm sorry, d-did you just say Baxter and Taylor?"

Elise reached into her pocket and produced a card. "Here you go, in case you want to contact me in the future."

Tara took the card and read it, that paleness of her face gained a greenish hue that was starting to match her obscenely bright business dress.

Detective Bishop grimaced at the woman's reaction, and then looked at Marco's beaming countenance. If he hadn't had the same reaction Tara had when Ms. Dinkleman introduced herself, he'd be enjoying it as much as he was. "We're releasing Mr. Diaz into her custody. He's not been charged with anything, so he's not under arrest."

He turned to Marco. "Sorry about this, son, you're free to go."

"I hope you've been keeping my client good company, and making him feel both welcomed and safe," Elise continued. "He's had a rough day, and it would look pretty bad on all the departments involved if he had anything to complain about."

She turned to Marco. "Well, anything to complain about?"

Marco was now smiling ear-to-ear. "Nope! Everything was fine actually. I didn't have anything to say, but she sure did make the minutes fly talking about nothing at all."

He turned to Tara, still smiling. "Right?"

At that moment, Marco was pretty sure he got a glimpse of pure hatred as Tara looked at him with an impotent fury that dwarfed Trip ex-Vanderhoff's rage and his own for Trip in turn. Three words had punched this woman's soul out of her, and if she didn't want to get it suplexed on cement, she knew she could only respond with one.

"Right," she replied like she was being forced to bow in supplication by the Echo Creek PD Detectives.

Tonight was a great night; Marco would do it all again just for this. 10 out of 10, no notes.

"All right," he said. "I'm ready to go."

Elise nodded and gestured for him to follow her. "Right this way, Marco, your family is waiting at home with pizza and wings."

"Sounds great, I'm starving," Marco said as he followed Elise out of the interrogation room.

As they left and the door swung all but shut, Tara whirled upon the two detectives. "You must be out of your God Damn minds if you actually believe that that… that punk has the most powerful law firm in this country as his representation!"

"He does," Detective Bishop said. "We checked the Bar; we called their office. Elise Dinkleman is an attorney employed by them, and they have record of Marco Diaz being a client of Baxter and Taylor effective yesterday. Him, Star Butterfly, Mason and Mabel Pines, and Misao Darlian. The daughter of HHI's Momiji Hyuuga Misao Darlian."

Tara recoiled. "Wait… the daughter of…" She looked a bit dizzy at that. "Momiji Hyuuga does not have a daughter."

Detective Bishop's partner spoke up. "She does, they keep it kind of low profile because… well… when Shego attacked the school, yesterday… she was after her."

Detective Bishop pinched the bridge of his nose. "That… is another can of worms we don't want to open."

Tara dropped back on the couch, deeply shaken. "So… that's it? We can't touch any of them?"

Detective Hashimoto sighed. "Nope. At this point, you'd need the DoD to actually go after them now. And given that Baxter and Taylor represent some of the Pentagon's most important contractors…"

Slowly, the blonde shook her head. She was struggling now with the earth-turning revelation. "When you called Glendale to assist; you guys implied that this was just another bunch of SheZows running around causing trouble."

"We thought that, too, until this afternoon," Detective Hashimoto said in consolation.

"From what we have been told so far, the situation is very difficult and at the moment may possibly be a global-scale threat," Detective Bishop explained. "We'll be getting a full brief on the situation by the end of the week. But for right now, we need to downplay and diminish this to avoid causing a panic."

Tara snapped alert, then, and glared at the two detectives. "A global-scale threat? And we're just leaving it to a bunch of punk kids with guns?!"

"I did say it was difficult," Detective Bishop reiterated.

Detective Hashimoto shrugged her shoulders. "Shoot, we let Kim Possible get away with it."

"Kim Possible isn't a costumed delinquent causing property damage and making a show about it!" Tara snapped back at them.

「しょうがない。」 Detective Hashimoto simply said in Japanese, earning a nod in agreement from Detective Bishop, before she switched to English. "What can we do?"

"I believe there's also an implication that we should assist however we can," Detective Bishop said. "It may be unacceptable to some of us, but for the third time… this is a difficult situation. If we don't like it, how can any of them like it any better?"

Tara had heard enough and got up from the couch to push past them. "Detectives," she said as she reached the door and stopped. "Take it from someone who is familiar with the mind of a vigilante: they are degenerates who do as they please because they have powers, a secret identity, or a cult following. They love it and they will lord it over those we who are bound by duty to uphold the law. If they get too powerful? The law itself will break down and they will become the law."

She pointed at both of them. "Do not hand your balls over to these brats. Pentagon Lawyers or not, we are the law. We enforce the law. And we must not let any costumed freaks think they can flaunt it. Or their friends."

With that she marched out of the room.

The redhead detective looked up at her partner, left eyebrow raised way up. "… X, she is really the last person to be talking that shit."

Detective Bishop pinched the bridge of his nose. "I know, Mirai, I know."

= - = 8-7 = - =​

New enemies, new allies, and... seemingly random people who don't like the police? Who knows!

 

[The Ero-Sennin]

I'mma tell you here, SheZow is going to play a surprising roll here in the story...

= - = 8-8 = - =

|Off the Hook|​

Riding shotgun in Elise's minivan, Marco basked in his victory this evening. He was an enlightened man, he saw for himself and understood now why his friends all regarded the police with suspicion. In some ways he was disappointed, in others elated, but beside all that he was confident he'd be reluctant to trust another policeman so implicitly like the Safe Kid in him once would.

"I'm proud of you, kid. They really tried to screw you over, but you stuck to the plan and now you get to sleep in your own bed tonight."

"Yeah, I'm really surprised… I also kind of understand now why rich people act out like they do."

"Right?" Elise flashed him a quick smile. "Don't abuse it, or we'll dump you in a deeper hole than the one we put Trip and Van in."

Marco raised his hands in supplication. "Message received! I am ten toes on the ground and dug in; I'm not going to take advantage of you or what you're doing for us."

Elise didn't need to hear that. "Of course you aren't–I was just teasing. You're a good kid, you're all good kids… and that's why I'm here to help you so this isn't as hard as it's going to be."

As hard as it was going to be. After fighting Barla, Marco implicitly got the meaning. These fights were going to be harder, and they were going to need a lot of help to get through them at this rate. Not just his friends, but their families, and people like Elise running interference for them and speaking when they can't.

They were also probably going to need guns. Lots of guns. "I'm not going to lie. The idea of it getting harder worries me. This new one we're fighting was tough. And now they're attacking the town itself? What do we do about that? What if they start attacking at different times, to try to throw us off? Or go after other places?"

Marco tightened his jaw as Elise shot him a glance. "What do we do if there's something worse out there than Vexor and the Magnavores?"

A good question, Elise wondered that, too. "Hope that when you run into it, you'll be ready."

She smiled encouragingly. "We'll make sure you are."

@@@@@​

"Has he answered yet?" Brittney demanded as Dudley pulled the G-Wagen into a neighborhood between where the battle took place and their school. Beside her, Sabrina checked her phone and shook her head.

"It was sent but he hasn't read it yet," she lamented as Dudley pulled up to a line of houses that bordered the town's eponymous creek. "Maybe he's busy."

Brittney considered today's battle and nodded. "Yeah, or maybe he got caught up in the fight today, too. Who knows."

"I hope he's okay."

At that, Brittney snorted. "I'm sure he'll be fine." She insisted, even as she decided to check something when she was done here. "He's going to text you soon, don't freak out before then, okay?"

"I'll try." Sabrina was having a micro-freak out every several seconds since they escaped the battle.

"We have arrived, Master Sabrina," Dudley informed.

Sabrina managed a weak smile. "Thank you, Dudley. And thank you for protecting us earlier."

Dudley nodded back to her. "Of course."

As Sabrina climbed out and closed the door and began to walk up the driveway towards the side of her house, Brittney turned to Dudley. "Say, Dudley, what do you suppose are the odds that Drew is one of the Beetleborgs?"

"Extremely high, Master Brittney. I was there the first day that the Pines Twins arrived in Echo Creek, he, his sister, and Master Roland associate with them."

Brittney scowled. "It's good circumstantial evidence, but I won't be satisfied with that. I need you to take me to Star Butterfly's house."

"At once, Master Brittney." As Dudley put the car in drive and pulled away from the curb, he noticed the edges of his vision begin to blur.

Staring at her message to Drew and the sent icon, Sabrina sighed as she reached the side door of her home, that would reach her kitchen. As she went into her pocket for her keys, movement from the corner of her eye made her jump, and she spotted TC in his hoodie step around the corner from her house, from the direction of her backyard.

"… Mr. Darnell?" She asked in confusion.

TC looked just as surprised to see Sabrina. "Oh! You made it out of there all right. I'm glad."

"I-I was about to say the same thing…" Sabrina said. "It's good that you're safe but… what are you doing behind my house?"

TC looked back. "I got out of there by running to the creek and hiding under a bridge, luckily none of those Scabs noticed me so I was able to book it. I was actually just climbing over the fence to go back to the street when I noticed you. What are the odds, huh?"

She agreed. "Yeah, one way or another I didn't think we were going to meet again."

"Oof!" TC said with a laugh. "That one hurt."

Sabrina managed a nervous chuckle herself. "Well, again I'm glad you're okay… but I should get inside."

"Oh, of course!" TC said as he lifted his hat up slightly. "But before I leave, I want to ask you something."

Sabrina paused. "… What?"

"I don't normally ask this to specific people, but…" TC's smile grew. "Would you like to be on a shirt?"

@@@@@​

"What do you mean you hot-wired Gargantis?!" A disbelieving Jo demanded. "You didn't need to hot-wire it!"

"No," Janna conceded, before she snapped her fingers and pointed at Jo, "But I wanted to."

Jo stopped and weighed on that. "You know what? That's fair, go on, Queen."

They were all gathered in Star's room at the Diaz household, after receiving word from Elise that Marco was already on his way home. Food had been delivered, soft drinks were served, and Star was waiting downstairs excitedly for Marco's return. With the crisis regarding Marco not a crisis at all, the atmosphere was slowly easing its tension.

"However she wanted to do it don't matter. She stood on business," Roland pointed out.

"Big business," Mabel agreed.

Janna hooked an arm around Misao's shoulders and pulled her close, poking her chest with her other hand as she pointed at her. "It's thanks to this guy. As soon as we saw how Big and Bad Barla was, she had me out there."

Misao giggled. "Danke schön."

Drew, opening a soda with his mind, held the can up in salute. "And you drove her off when we needed you to. That's some Super Sentai timing."

"Super Sen-timing," Mabel chimed in.

"I'll remember that one," Drew said.

Jackie was sitting at the end of Star's bed, drizzling some ranch dressing over her slice of pizza. "So, when Marco gets back, we need to talk about how we're gonna fight that Barla chick. She was way too strong."

Jo was in agreement. "Yeah, what's up with that? Everything we hit her with she just shrugged off like she was early-career Brock Lesnar."

"2002 to 2004: The worst period in professional sports entertainment history," Janna lamented.

"The key to defeating her lies in the Big Bad Beetleborgs movie tie-in issues," Drew said.

"108 through 120?" Dipper asked.

Drew nodded. "She was the main villain throughout that entire year of comics, but it was revealed that she was only the herald for the arrival of the movie-only villains."

"And since the movie didn't come out those comics haven't been recirculated and are rare as hell," Roland added to explain their rarity.

"Non-canon, too, until the movie finally does drop," Jo felt she needed to add.

Jackie looked around. "So, we're getting them, right?"

"Ja, of course!" Misao assured her. "Very first thing in the morning we will go to Zoom Comics and I will buy them from Nano, paid in cash."

"And the other rares we're missing," Drew said.

Jackie relaxed. "Sweet. You've read those comics though, right?"

"Obviously I have not," Jo said.

Drew shook his head. "Never got around to it, because, well…"

"I have," Roland said. "And believe it or not… they're actually not very good."

Jo nodded. "Because Marvel was being pushy about them, and the Chairman insisted that each comic have a guest artist and writer to make a big deal about the brand."

"It went poorly, because suddenly Art Fortunes had to work with people he'd never worked with before at best, or outright hated at worst, and it showed on the pages." Roland continued. "The writing was mid, the art was all over the place, and the story was so janky because of problems with the film production that in hindsight they're all a really hard read."

"Speaking of working with Art," Dipper said. "Misao, is there anyone you can connect us with to maybe get a meeting with him?"

Misao brightened. "I have a friend who is working on the new Beetleborgs film. And my would-be host family, too."

Silence reigned in the room, as everyone stared at her.

It was then that Misao realized… that this hadn't come up before. "Ah."

Jo, being Jo, broke the silence. "You know people working on the Beetleborgs film?! Who?!"

Misao shrank some, becoming smaller than she already was. "Um… Cynthia McDougal–"

Jo screamed. "YOU'RE FRIENDS WITH FUCKING REDDLE?!"

"We went to middle school together in Switzerland!" Misao quickly explained.

Roland shook his head. "Jo, chill. It's not like we could've used this info earlier, we've been busy!"

"Yeah, so much has happened… and is going to keep happening until we deal with the Magnavores for good," Drew said.

The door opened, and Star stepped in. "Guess who's back from doing a bid~!"

Marco walked in. "Hey guys!"

"MARCO!" Mabel, Misao, and Jackie all shouted at once, before Jackie beat them to running up and hugging him.

"Dude, how was it?" She asked.

Mabel and Misao reached him next, joining the embrace. "Yay, you weren't police brutalized!"

Janna then spoke up. "You didn't snitch, did you?"

"I didn't snitch, I didn't talk at all!" Marco snapped back.

"Relax, I knew you wouldn't."

No longer mobbed by the huggiest of girls, Marco went over to Star's bed and sat on it, both Star and Jackie joining him on it as he grabbed a chicken wing from a box. "Anyway, I got some bad news."

"Bad news how?" Dipper asked.

"Well, the Glendale Police Department is part of the police task force thing that swarmed us."

Everyone who was from Los Angeles in the room made faces of disgust.

"Okay, I'll bite," Dipper said, "What's the deal with Glendale?"

"Glendale PD has its own superhero," Jo said. "Or rather, its own supercop, and she's a massive bitch."

"Yeah, she is," Marco said before all but biting through the bone of his chicken wing. "She tried to make me talk by threatening that my Dad would get deported."

Mabel made a face. "That's foul."

"Dude, saying it lightly," Jackie seethed.

Roland dropped her name. "Yeah, she'd say something like that. Freaking Tara Bouger, also known as Major Blast II."

Jo continued on. "If you look up the word Karen in a dictionary you will see her face next to it. She hates superheroes, brown people, and dogs."

"She hates people not being inconvenienced by her in general," Janna said.

Drew sighed. "It's been nice, but if she's got legal permission to act here, next time the Magnavores attack we may end up fighting her, too."

"You mean we'll get to fight her," Jo said. "I don't know about you guys, but if she does pull up? She's getting exactly what she deserves."

"Well, yeah, but it's going to be annoying."

Dipper wasn't too concerned about police interference. "As long as we stay focused on the Magnavores, the police and any pet supercops they have won't be able to do much without it being a bad time for them. We just need to keep our heroism above board."

He looked at Star. "Which means after we're done here, you should get back over to Britta's and clean up the mess."

Star nodded. "I can do that; I wanted to do that! But, you know, the cops."

Drew spoke. "So tomorrow we have to pick up the comics with Barla in them so we might have some understanding of how to defeat her, and we have to prepare for what might be another Magnavore attack as soon as tomorrow… and somebody died at our school under suspicious circumstances that we're not allowed to go near."

Mabel brought up the bright side of it. "Hey, at least we have the rest of the week off."

Janna was about to add another important event from today, when Drew remembered. "Oh yeah, and there's that room in Hillhurst that reacts specifically to Star and Marco, complete with a magic armoire that will only open for them."

The room went quiet as Dipper slowly turned to look at Star and Marco.

"I'm sorry… what?!"

Marco, Star, and Jackie all nodded in unison. "It's true. It's weird."

Janna further confirmed it. "We were all freaking out until the Magnavores gave us something more important to worry about."

"Did you open it?!" Dipper demanded.

Marco shook his head. "We couldn't, we're missing a key."

Dipper had to know. "A key, what kind of key?"

"I don't know," Star said, "It was shaped like an S."

"An S-shaped Key?"

"Yeah, the letter S," Marco said. "We're not sure about what it means."

Roland hummed. "An S-shape, huh… I think Nano might know; we'll ask her tomorrow."

Dipper was now going through the same implications Drew had. "… Wait, what does the house mean to you and Star? Why are Flabber and the Monsters there? Were we supposed to be there?!"

"Oooh, a strange destiny? It wouldn't be the first time!" Mabel said.

Dipper turned to Star. "We need to go back to Hillhurst right now, I need to see this!"

Star reached into her purse and pulled out the Dimensional Scissors. "I wonder if we'll be able to go directly to it."

She snipped open a portal, and sure enough, it led directly to Wolfy's Room. "Oh, hey, it let me in–" Dipper all but bolted through the portal into the room. "Hey! That's our room!"

"And that's weird!" Dipper shouted from the other side of the portal.

As Star, Jackie, and Marco followed in after the others, Drew got up to follow when he felt his phone slip from his pocket. Stopping, he picked it up as the screen came on and showed a message from an unknown number. "… Huh…?"

Opening his screen and going to his messages, he stopped when he began to read it. "Wait, this is from…"

He trailed off, as the edges of his vision started to blur, like tears were starting to form in his eyes.

@@@@@​

In her driveway, beside her house, Sabrina was surprised at TC's offer. "M-me? You want to put my face on a t-shirt? I… but my face is so… normal…"

TC laughed. "Nonsense! I think you'd look great!"

She wasn't sure. "But… doesn't' that go against your theme? The whole point of your artistic vision?"

TC shrugged his shoulders. "Well, you see…"

A car at the end of the driveway honked its horn, startling both of them. Recovering from her fright, Sabrina looked at and recognized the car before its driver opened the door. "Wait…"

Heather stepped out of her Audi. "Oh, hey Sabrina!"

Sabrina was confused. "Uh… hey, Heather… what's up?"

"I was on my home from work, when I saw you and just remembered I forgot to tell you some things about Drew, and…!" She stopped when she noticed TC. "Oh, I'm sorry, who's this?"

Sabrina brightened, mainly since they were going to talk about that boy she liked. "Oh, he's…!"

TC raised a hand, laughing. "Actually, hold on a sec." He reached into his pocket and pulled out his phone. "Oh shoot… my agent is blowing up my phone like crazy, worried about me. So I gotta bounce."

He gave Sabrina a smile. "Take care of yourself, I'll see you whenever, but who knows…"

He nodded and tipped his hat to Heather. "Nice meeting you."

With that he headed down the driveway and began walking down the street, bowing his head low and pulling his hoodie down over his baseball cap. Watching him go, Sabrina looked disappointed. "Oh, just my luck."

Heather turned to her. "Who was that?"

"TC Darnell, the artist," Sabrina revealed.

Heather tilted her head. "… Who?"

Sabrina paused, and then got a bit awkward as she realized. "… I guess he's someone who'd only hang out in Brittney's circles, I only know about him from her, myself."

She pulled out the t-shirt he made. "He gave me a t-shirt he made just today."

Heather's eyes grew wide when she saw the shirt. "… Oh! I know who you're talking about, now! He's that t-shirt artist, who does the weird faces!" She turned and looked back the way TC was walking away in. "Wow… and he just gave one to you?"

Sabrina nodded. "He gave Brittney one, too. I was so surprised."

Heather glanced back at her car. "Say, you wanna go hang out? I know Britta's is off the table, but there was some stuff I wanted to tell you about Drew since you're going to be asking him out."

Sabrina looked at her house. "Well, I just got home, but…" She wanted to know more about Drew. "… Actually, would you like to stay over for a bit?!"

Heather nodded. "More than anything, let's go inside."

While Sabrina and Heather headed inside the house, Drew gave a surprised start as he recognized the message and his face colored. "Uh… wow."

Janna suddenly leaned over his shoulder. "What's up, Sad Kid?" She read the screen, and her eyebrows rose. "So… Sabrina wants another taste, huh?"

Turning to her, and extremely aware of her nearness, Drew was unsure of her intent. "Well, is… uh… that a problem?" He asked.

Janna looked at the phone, and then him, smiling. "No, if she wants to hang out, you should hang out. She's cute, you're cute, be cute."

Patting him on the shoulder, Janna leaned close and whispered. "But be gentle, Sad Kid, you might be too much for her~"

"H-hey!" Drew snapped as Janna swept off–snapping her fingers and pointing at him like they were guns–and headed for the portal. "Look, are you into me or not?!"

Janna stopped at the portal and looked back at him. Jo, Roland, Mabel, and Misao all looked at the two of them.

Finding herself on the spot, Janna nevertheless remained entirely cool. "Well… isn't that obvious?" She stepped into the portal. "Don't let that discourage, you though, I'm generous."

With that she headed through to check out the hilarity in Wolfy's room.

Everyone still in Star's room turned to look back at Drew. Jo was surprised that it just happened, Roland was proud and happy for his boy, while Mabel and Misao were both watching all their ships sail with excitement.

Drew… just didn't know how to respond to this.

"… Huh."

= - = 8-8 = - =​

That was a close one.

 

[The Ero-Sennin]

And with this, we close out Volume 8. I hope you've enjoyed the read, and look forward to the next one. It's already well underway, and there's going to be quite a few changes, twists, and turns as we start to go beyond the borders of Echo Creek.

= - = 8-9 = - =

|The Heroine|​

When night fell in Echo Creek, strange moons illuminated the dark. Perched atop towers almost 150 feet tall, the harsh, unrelenting light of Carbon Arc Lamps pierced the haze created by the town's Oil Derricks and danced off the metal with the same vibrance as the sun. It was an unearthly sight that Dr. Hillhurst found both unsettling and excessive.

So much light and yet it made an already contaminated place appear more hostile to life.

Letting gravity take his bicycle downhill, he coasted to the edge of town and to a pace no faster than a casual stroll as he made for the heart of the town and the vicinity of the Post Office. The Arc Light, still several blocks away, beamed down unmoving across the night sky, causing buildings to create long and threatening shadows in the alleyways of the few buildings not replaced by derricks… to say nothing of the crisscrossing tangle of darkness cast by the derricks themselves.

Turning left at the corner adjacent to the post office, he rode down the dusty road past nothing but oil derricks, heading further into Echo Creek and the domain of Emily Blakesfield-Bonner. The everpresent haze and fumes of oil and the steady, noisy chorus of slowly working pumps was nauseating, making him yearn to cover his mouth with a handkerchief, as futile as that would be.

For several minutes he rode on, fighting his disgust at the forest of progress, before his destination came into view. A foundry hard at work even at this late hour, the night shift workers taking on the task of casting the metal that spread the damnable derricks.

Securing his bicycle at the entrance, Dr. Hillhurst dismounted and covered his mouth with a bright orange handkerchief as he headed to the foreman's office. Reaching it, he gave it a brisk knock, before taking the knob and letting himself in.

"Mr. Backintosh, are you in?" He called as he stepped into the office. "I need to speak with you about an order."

A deep, annoyed voice called from the shadowed back of the office, lit by a small arc light in the ceiling. He was a typical factory man, broad shouldered, strongly built, with a full head of dark brown hair and matching eyes that burned with contempt in the low light. "The hell do you want, Hillhurst?"

"Doctor Hillhurst," he happily corrected.

"Fuck off with that," Mr. Anthony Backintosh barked at him. "I'm not dignifying a Diploma Mill Doctorate. Now what do you want, Hillhurst?"

Dr. Hillhurst played coy. "Oh, nothing much, I just need brass for… Mauser 7.63mm and Colt .45–"

"Mauser?!" Mr. Backintosh cut him off. "Who the hell did you talk out of a Mauser on this side of the world?!"

Dr. Hillhurst smiled, having piqued the bitter man's interest. "It's not mine, a client came right to my door asking for ammunition in Mauser. I couldn't believe it myself, until I saw it. It's pristine, Anthony, the well-used weapon of a man who does well by it."

Mr. Backintosh glared at Dr. Hillhurst as he steepled his fingers. "I take it you have an example for me to work from?"

Dr. Hillhurst reached into the pocket of his coat, and produced five shell casings, before handing them to him. "Look, ye mighty, and despair."

Mr. Backintosh picked up one of the casings deposited on his desk and marveled at it. "Fucking hell… that's real 7.63mm…" He turned it over and looked at the bottom of the cartridge. "… Avameros…?"

Dr. Hillhurst hadn't noticed that. "Avameros?"

Mr. Backintosh held it up. "The headstamp… I know this. Avameros is short for Avalon Armeros, a custom cartridge and firearm manufacturer that only does work for European nobility."

He set the cartridge down. "Be honest with me, Hillhurst. How'd you get hold of this?"

Dr. Hillhurst hummed, before he answered. "European nobility, hmm? Like I said, it's not for any weapon of mine; a client commissioned me and I'm here to pay you to get the brass made."

He reached inside his jacket and pulled out an envelope. "I need it made quickly, so I'm paying up front the full price for a standard order, with the promise of double that when the job's done."

Dr. Hillhurst tossed the open envelope onto the desk. Mr. Backintosh could see a considerable amount of money inside. The foundry foreman looked up at the alleged Doctor, intrigued.

"I was going to charge you extra for the work in machining something in a rare caliber, but you're a step ahead. I can't say no to money like that, especially since we're making these damn oil pipes at a loss."

"At a loss–?!" Dr. Hillhurst stopped and scowled. "Don't tell me…"

He nodded. "Revolutionary as she is, no one trusts the innovations of a woman whose family's history is wreathed with deceit and trickery that would do the Northwests offense."

Dr. Hillhurst made a face at that name. "Of course."

"Nevertheless," Backintosh continued, "I'll get started on this tonight. You'll have enough brass to arm a company by the day after tomorrow."

Dr. Hillhurst beamed. "Oh, Anthony, you are my savior in the night. My client and I are immensely grateful and wish success and happiness to your family for generations to come–"

"Get the fuck out of my office," Mr. Backintosh said curtly, with no patience for Dr. Hillhurst's eloquent praise.

"Fine! I'm leaving, asshole!" Dr. Hillhurst abruptly declared, with a quick laugh before he was out the door.

As he walked back out into the putrid night, Dr. Hillhurst pondered what he learned. "Avalon Armeros, shooting demons with silver, hunting beasts…"

He hummed. "Are you what I think you are, Teddy?" He mused aloud. "I may have to consult the Master for his wisdom on the matter…"

When he turned towards his bike, however, he found it gone from where he left it. "… The Devil…?"

He looked down the street, and saw a young boy perched upon it, looking at him with a big smile on his face. Locking eyes on the ruddy young man, Dr. Hillhurst saw red.

"Hey! You look like you can barely read, lad, what makes you think you can ride–?!" To his dismay, the boy turned and rode off on the bicycle as fast as he could. "Damn it to hell!"

He broke into a run after the fleeing thief. "Get back here! That derailleur is not patented yet!"

The bicycle thief only laughed as he pumped the pedals as hard as he could, quickly picking up great speed. "Shows what you get for not keeping an eye on–"

His taunt turned into a scream of terrified disbelief as he found Dr. Hillhurst almost within arm's length of grabbing the back of his shirt and yanking him bodily off the bike. Turning away, he kept screaming as he rode faster, trying to stay ahead of the sprinting doctor.

Cutting a hard right, the boy aimed for the alley between two buildings, narrowly escaping a grab and ducking down it. Staggering to a halt, Dr. Hillhurst took several deep breaths before he sprinted down the alley, disappearing into the darkness after him.

"Get! Back! Here! I've outrun Soapy's boys in a dead heat, you won't get away from me!"

His boast echoed in the alley. The smack of a fist against his face immediately followed.

The blow stunned the doctor, and he collapsed against the brick masonry wall of the warehouse before a pair of strong hands lashed out from the dark and shoved him into a gaslit clearing. Stumbling to a stop, Dr. Hillhurst turned around and stopped when a familiar face strode out of the dark towards him, his dark eyes grim but his lips curled in a satisfied sneer.

"Hutchinson, my boy!" The Doctor said as he backed up with hands raised. "Fine time meeting you this late…"

"I said I'd be coming straight for you!" Hutchinson swore before he swung at Dr. Hillhurst, who deftly sidestepped the swing despite his fading dizziness.

"I seem to recall!" He said before he evaded another punch. "But I assumed you'd be coming to my door, not luring me in the alley by stealing my bicycle." He ducked another and circled around Hutchinson, putting his back to the way he came out of the alley and facing his assailant. "That's not very straight for me, good man."

He noticed more figures moving in the dim light, the two associates that he'd bested earlier in the day along with Hutchinson outside of the Baldwin homestead. The boy who took his bike was in the back, grinning like a loon in anticipation. His lips dipped into a frown. "I say, you're serious about this, aren't you?"

"I want my piece back, Hillhurst."

"Doctor Hillhurst," he corrected, "And I'd gladly exchange it for my property had you thought of just that. As it stands, you've taken my bicycle and assaulted me, so I'm afraid only one of us is coming out of here satisfied."

"Yeah, the three of us," Hutchinson said as he raised his fists to brawl.

Dr. Hillhurst shook his head. "I said one of us."

The world fell quiet as Hutchinson lunged towards him, and slowed to a crawl. Staring at him, and the two other men moving in the shadows, Dr. Hillhurst's mind began racing as he analyzed their approach.

Three men, unarmed. Man on the left, mild signs of concussion from earlier blow to jaw. Man on the right, cracked jaw from previous chin strike. Point man, Hutchinson, smells of alcohol. Responsiveness lowered due to consumption of three glasses of whisky.

He sniffed.

Four glasses. Liquid courage.

He watched as Hutchinson began to raise his arm.

Hutchinson will attempt a wild haymaker. Evade by moving out the path of the punch and striking him in the liver.

Sure enough, Hutchinson swung his haymaker and was immediately punished with a blow to the liver.

Crack his ribs on his right side to evacuate air in his lungs, then uppercut to chin, he'll fall back into the man on his right.

He struck Hutchinson again, then landed an uppercut. Sending the man stumbling into the man on Dr. Hillhurst's left. Looking right, the Doctor saw his opponent coming at him with both hands clasped above his head, to bring them down like a hammer.

Five glasses of whiskey, desperate, afraid. This is all he thinks he can do. Right jab him in the nose, then left cross in the jaw. He will crumple straight to the ground.

Dr. Hillhurst did just that, quickly punching the man in the nose. As his hands dropped to cover his broken nose, the "Doctor" slammed a left cross into his jaw, and in short order the man sank to the ground, properly concussed. He looked at the man he used Hutchinson to knock down, and he was clutching his unconscious leader in his arms like a fallen brother in battle while staring at Dr. Hillhurst in terror.

Two drinks, just sober enough to realize how outmatched he is.

"PA!" He heard the boy who stole his bicycle in the first place exclaim in horror, before rushing to the other unconscious man and trying to stir him. "Pa, wake up! Wake up!"

Seeing that, Dr. Hillhurst sneered in disgust. "Of course, men of low character would dare to pass a legacy of violence onto their children."

He turned and looked down the alleyway, furious. "I do recall saying something to the effect of offering a man enough to feed him and his, and he'll do whatever is necessary. A hypocritical, contemptible wretch like you would of course take and twist it into the vilest of things, Ms. Blakesfield-Bonner!"

Two sets of footsteps approached from the darkness, before the elegant and composed Emily Blakesfield-Bonner stepped into the dim arc light. Far from the impassioned teetotaler who spoke of shutting down dens of sin and the virtues of sobriety, she wore a cold, malicious stare that bore through Dr. Hillhurst–a deep and wide hatred that only dared show itself at night.

His hands folded behind his back; the man who walked beside her remained in the dark. Dr. Hillhurst noted him, before focusing on her.

"Is it no wonder that men turn to crime in this town, your town? You drive them from their homes, turn verdant, lush land into oil-soaked, dead dirt, force them to work for next to nothing in your factories, and then take every fruit of that labor for yourself. Oil, and broken men, that is all you are interested in producing."

Emily sniffed at Dr. Hillhurst's damning words. "It is not for nothing that men break in the service of progress. Every drop of oil drawn from the earth fuels and lubricates the machines of industry that will turn this country from an afterthought to a great power. I facilitate it, the sacrifice of those who work for me ensures it."

Dr. Hillhurst wished he'd brought a gun, or even his cane to strike this woman down and dead where she stood. "And that is all they are, broken pieces of your great work–"

"Exactly," Emily said sharply. "Men who can be replaced and will be. Who need nothing but to know their place and will be rewarded for it. Those who cannot, who will not, have no place in this world… let alone in my sight."

She stepped aside, and the man who accompanied her stepped forward. In the low light, Dr. Hillhurst was surprised to see, of all people, an Asian man approach him slowly. He was close to his age, maybe older, and wore the popular attire of the Chinese Immigrants who'd settled west and south of Echo Creek near the sea and the heart of LA.

Dr. Hillhurst's anger was obfuscated by astonishment. "… Is… is that a Chinese man?!"

Emily nodded. "I've grown weary of the fancy martial arts you keep hospitalizing my hard-working employees with."

"Bartitsu, it's all the rage in London," Dr. Hillhurst quipped.

"Whatever barbarism it is, I've chosen to fight it with barbarism." She nodded to the man. "Ping, deal with him."

Dr. Hillhurst rolled his eyes in disgust. "That's probably not even his name."

"I did not hire him to know his wretched life story, only to put an end to yours."

The Chinese Man, whether his name was actually Ping an irrelevant point, slipped his hands from behind his back and bowed to Dr. Hillhurst before assuming a front stance with his right hand and foot leading. As with Hutchinson and his boys. Dr. Hillhurst's mind began to race as he sized up his opponent.

Stone cold sober, breathing even but deep and open, pulse at rest. There is no tension in his body, only anticipation in his nerves. This man is not like those I've dealt with. I need to be quick and decisive if I am to defeat him. This mustn't register on an emotional level.

Dr. Hillhurst looked at his hands, then his feet, then back and forth as his hand reached for the handkerchief in his coat pocket.

First, I'll distract the target by throwing my handkerchief at his face, then block his blind attempt to grab, and counter with a cross to his left cheek. Then, discombob–

The next thing Dr. Aloysius Hillhurst knew was that he was being punched in the face repeatedly by the Chinese man, who'd grabbed him by the collar of his suit and began using his face as a speedbag with his other hand.

Behind the Chinese man, Emily smiled in satisfaction as she watched the subject of her ire take a long-awaited beating and listened to the sounds he made with each hit.

"Urk! Ough! Oof! Damn it–! D'oh...!"

"Honestly this is so long overdue," she said, "I've only known you for a less than a year and it feels like you've antagonized me for an age."

"Bleh–! Paddy–! Guh–!"

"Do you have any idea how much it costs to pay for the medical expenses of the men you've put into the hospital?"

"Of! Poit! Zort! D'apples!"

"To ensure that they and their families don't go hungry? Do you know how it feels to be in their shoes?"

She raised her hand, and the Chinese man immediately ceased punching Dr. Hillhurst.

Panting, his face already swollen in spots and blood trickling from the corner of his mouth, Dr. Hillhurst looked at Emily. "… I… don't know… do you know how it feels to be the farmers… whose lives, wives, and children are threatened by those same men if they don't give up their land so you can grow oil instead of food…?"

Emily made the most hateful face. "You talk far too much."

"I will… however… give credit where it is due. I am stunned that you've hired a man–for the first time–based entirely on the skills he possesses, and not the color of his skin." To the martial artist, he said to the man in note perfect Mandarin. "Congratulations on breaking the racial barrier, I hope you're being paid the thirty-five cents she pays her white thugs."

Ms. Bakersfield-Bonner recoiled. "You speak that gibberish?!"

The Chinese Man let Dr. Hillhurst go and answered in perfectly fluent English. "Thirty-five cents?! I'm only being paid twelve!"

Right away she realized what he did and scowled at the "Doctor" before snapping at her newly hired muscle. "It's more than your kind should get, now do your job or you don't get paid at all!"

The threatening crack of a whip made everyone in the alley jump and go very still. All looked up to see a feminine figure standing on the roof of the warehouse, illuminated by the larger Arc Lamp shining on the town. It was the gaudily dressed woman who'd foiled the robbery earlier in the day, the sequined jewels in her attire and the S-shaped ring on her right hand ring-finger gleaming fabulously in the light.

"Rest assured, amigo," she said to the Chinese Man, "You won't get your medical expenses as generously covered as the lady's white thugs either. So, reconsider your risk against reward."

The man didn't need to be told twice, turning and fleeing down the alley while flipping Emily off and saying some very colorful things in his native Mandarin. After watching him go, Emily looked up at the interloper with a fierce scowl as the other woman casually stepped off the edge of the roof, fell over thirty feet, and landed in a neat crouch unharmed beside Dr. Hillhurst.

Dr. Hillhurst gave a bloodied smile at the woman. "Never in my life have I been so fortunate to see someone so offensive to my eyes."

The woman stood upright and tipped her hat to Dr. Hillhurst. "Doctor."

She then turned to Emily. "Ma'am. I do believe that a lady of your standing need not be out so late. It's dangerous out here; you have no idea what could happen to you if you keep going 'round unattended."

Emily's cold gaze attempted to lance through the woman but was met with a smile that concealed not a threat but a promise. Huffing, she turned away. "'Doctor' Hillhurst, I hope this is the last time I have to lay eyes upon you."

"Hey, me too," Dr. Hillhurst replied. "It is dangerous out here, after all."

Scoffing, the socialite pulled out a handkerchief and threw it onto Dr. Hillhurst's face. "Wipe yourself off, Doctor, you live to see another day."

With that she walked into the alley, disappearing into the yawning darkness. The remaining conscious man of Hutchinson's trio dragged his boss out, while the simpering bike thief hauled his still unconscious father out after.

Dr. Hillhurst, taking his bike, stood it and rose to lean on it, when his savior came to his side and helped him stand. "Now, hold on, Al. You look like you took a bad beating there…"

He turned to her and smiled. "Really, you are too kind. SheHaw, was it? Are your sure I cannot call you Ja–"

"Not while I'm on the clock," she cut him off. "What in tarnation are you doing getting into fights at night with that whore's whores?"

"It was an ambush," Dr. Hillhurst said. "They used my one weakness, my attachment to personal property."

"And that you talk too much."

"I thought you were here to help!"

"Anytime and always," she said as she got him on his bike, took it by the handlebars, and began rolling him down the alley. "But I reckon you've been recklessly doing as you please, expecting none of it to catch up to you–and now that it has, you need to be told how you messed up, so you won't again."

Dr. Hillhurst sighed, as if to swoon. "Oh, SheHaw, if I could hold romantic desire for another. I would fall to my knee and ask you to be my bride."

"And I would laugh in your face at the very idea."

"Is it possible to love someone more platonically?"

SheHaw laughed as she wheeled Dr. Hillhurst out of the alley and pointed them both in the direction towards his home. "So, what was it this time?"

"She's making her way up the hills, going after the white homesteaders now. That woman's appetite for oil is insatiable."

With a snort, SheHaw shook her head. "Of course, she would."

"I stepped in, as usual, earned a rare prize from her polite young men, and that should've been that. I didn't even rough them up as much as I normally do."

"You've been at it with her for months, did you think she'd never be able to pull a new trick out from under her skirt? That you'd always just throw a few guys around, run them off, and receive all the thanks, beef, and wine you can stuff into your big mouth?"

"Sadly, the whites are a lot less grateful for my service to the community, so I think I'll be seeing less of that in the future," Dr. Hillhurst lamented. "While we're on the subject of disappointment: she was right there, you know… you could've slammed that whip right between her eyes."

"Oh yes and kick off the mother of all riots aimed at anyone darker than a caramel. Why yes, I would like that on my conscience." SheHaw scoffed. "She only plays this game because it's as much good publicity for her as it is for you."

Dr. Hillhurst fell quiet after that as he conceded to that point. The reason he was alive, the reason Emily Blakesfield-Bonner was alive, was because the latter treated it as a game… and if she lost, she'd make sure no one else could enjoy their victory.

Dr. Hillhurst swore one day he would throw it away and kill her, but it would not be this day. "You have to admit, though. The fact she actually hired a Chinese man to fight me is shockingly progressive for her."

That prompted a laugh from the heroine. "Hah! At this rate, she'll hire a negro next."

The thought filled Dr. Hillhurst with wonder. "Good Lord, I'd gladly let the man punch me all day if it got him paid his twelve cents an hour."

A softer, kinder laugh left her. "… And that's why I bother to rescue your worthless hide, Al… you never make it about you. Some man of confidence you are."

Dr. Hillhurst leaned against SheHaw and chuckled. "Ah, but that's exactly how a confidence game begins in earnest. You never make it about yourself, that's how you get the mark to trust you."

= - = 8-9 = - =​

SheHaw, like Yee Haw? Believe it or not, I watched SheZow for this (don't, like Big Bad Beetleborgs it's wasted potential and effort at every possible level even for its time), and for a show with so many god awful, I mean absolutely horrific puns... not introducing Old West SheZow as SheHaw was a wasted opportunity. Anyway, see you in the next one!