Epic Sin Sum

A group of warriors stands in a great circle around a spire of steel. At its apex, a massive timer ticks slowly down towards zero. The moment that all hell breaks loose.

Cap’n Metalhead stood among them. Calm and collected on the surface, but ruminating and strategizing at breakneck speed, they were taking the time before the battle began to take stock of the situation. On their right, they could see Moshgrave, and beyond them Dan and Liz. To the left, Mischief, Olive, and Galeanne were visible, but the humidity of the early morning made it difficult to spot the other competitors.

Cap’n didn’t need to see them to know that they were all his comrades and fellow Based Ones, or their representatives, now pitted against each other in a battle to the death. The prize: one wish.

Each had been permitted to equip themselves with whatever weapons they had at their disposal. For some, that meant a selection of magically-empowered equipment. For others, their own two fists were enough. Cap’n was no exception, having brought some choice bladed weapons of their own choosing to the battle. More importantly, though, Cap’n was glad to have been able to bring one of the most important tools at their disposal: their notes.

Contained within the pages of the Big Bad Bestiary, that gift so treasured, among the existing entries on myriad creatures and critters, were a long series of notes and documents collated over the years, containing data on every form of life Cap’n had researched, all of which was annotated and sorted. Various other notes were in the mix as well, on a variety of topics they had researched, from occult philosophy to introductory engineering concepts.

Within this toothy tome was the full extent of the approximate knowledge Cap’n had obtained on many things, and, Cap’n hoped, the key to figuring out and documenting the weaknesses of the opponents Cap’n now had to face.

Just in case, they also brought along another little curio they had collected, a smaller, much older tome with a blue gem set into its cover. It was no small feat to have obtained this, as its origins lay within another universe entirely. In a pinch, Cap’n knew this book would get them out of danger, thanks to the power it contained.

The timer continued to tick down. Only a few more minutes before the carnage would begin. Cap’n looked again at the competitors closest to them. They counted themselves lucky that they started further away from some of the stronger competitors, it would give them time to put distance between themself and opponents like Goldspin or the Solar Moths. From what their dossiers on those two indicated, a direct confrontation with either of them at this stage would spell the end of Cap’s bid for the prize, and their life besides.

Cap’n considered their options. Alliance would be their best bet for survival in the early stages of the battle, and there were a few candidates nearby that would be suitable. Mischief was a good option, being generally amicable and cooperative as a contender, and possessing extremely keen senses which would be useful as an early warning system for danger. Additionally, her physical strength was above average, which would make her good in a fight. Perhaps there were better options, though.

Liz was a good example. Much weaker physically overall, though with a strange sort of durability born of luck and pluck, Liz’s main source of power was a deep connection to dark and strange magicks, which increased her destructive potential manyfold. More importantly, she possessed what seemed to be a rather potent grimoire, which, if Cap’n could obtain it, could prove to be a useful addition to their arsenal. However, there were a few complications. For one thing, their data file indicated that Liz was rather reckless and haphazard regarding the use of magick, and the collateral damage could end up rebounding onto Cap’n at an inopportune moment. Information collected about her disposition suggested that she’d be just as interested in alliances as Mischief, but a few anomalous data points hinted at potential complications, and the possibility of unanticipated betrayal. Still, Cap’n believed they could use her goofy affect to their advantage, exploiting it to trick her into giving up her grimoire, willingly or otherwise.

Dan was an interesting case with regards to alliances, having approached Cap’n before the tournament to extend his interest in allyship. Dan’s data file was rather thin, with much variance, making it hard to pin down his intentions and capabilities. Cap’n knew that he was an expert combatant, certainly able to take someone of Cap’s size and strength down in an equal one-on-one matchup without too much trouble on the back of his skill alone. Cap’n also knew Dan was a bit of a schemer, which, of course, could prove useful, but posed quite the risk. That guy always knew more than he let on, if he could help it. For now, Cap’n would keep their skeletal eyes peeled, observing Dan from a distance. Perhaps research could illuminate the situation.

The countdown had reached the thirty-second mark. Each combatant steeled themselves for the fight, having run out of time to formulate plans and take stock of things. Each checked their equipment in turn, plotted their immediate course of action once the battle commenced, and hardened their resolve.

The clock struck zero.

---

Cap’s escape was narrow, almost too narrow for comfort. The moment the timer started on this game of death, it was bedlam. Magical blasts and explosions everywhere, the earth quaking with myriad impacts. Having anticipated such a mess, Cap’n had booked it in the opposite direction, scrambling over rocks and tree roots – stumbling more times than they wanted to admit – to escape the fray.

So far, it seemed like their efforts had been successful. They stood now in a deep wood, tall, gnarled trees hanging over them. To Cap’s judgement, they seemed to be old-growth, and closer inspection revealed a thick coating of lichen and moss. Quite the humid forest, this must be. It would be a good place to secure food in future.

Ahhh, the future. If Cap’n was unlucky, there wouldn’t be a lot of that to go around. Thirty days and thirty nights remained until the games were over. Cap’n would have to make the most of each in order to seize victory. They began scribbling the beginnings of a rudimentary map in their notes.

Once that was done, Cap’n brandished the second ancient tome in their arsenal. Here, at the start of this death game, the demon contained inside this book was to be Cap’s one and only lifeline apart from their own wit.

Lacking in special physical strengths above that of the average bodybuilder, Cap’n wasn’t going to be able to contend with any of the stronger fighters for very long. They had a few weapons stashed away, and certainly knew how to use them, but their skills didn’t really exceed the level of the petty criminals of their hometown, which, while far and above that of even hardened gangsters of the average metropolis, still didn’t measure up to the veterans of that slimy burgh. Cap’n wasn’t going to win on the back of combat skill alone, that was certain.

Thus, only two avenues existed for Cap’n: guile, and the use of special powers of some kind. Lacking in the second category, Cap’n would focus on using the former to increase the latter.

The book in their hands was an illustrative example of their strategy. Smuggled through dimensions by their old pal Mischief years ago, the Book of Koridai was a magical tome that sealed away an ancient evil. Through some chicanery involving adjusting the hidden settings on the Slimeoid Machine, the two amigos had managed to bind the tome to Cap’s will, turning the evil Prince of Darkness, Gannon, into the begrudgingly loyal pawn of Cap’n Metalhead. Naturally, Gannon was none too pleased to be part of this arrangement, but that was none of Cap’s concern. The magical power possessed by the dark sorcerer had come in handy on many occasions, particularly for removing any shambling Juvies from their lawn.

Now, it would be their best bet at survival. Speaking the forbidden barbarous words, Cap’n summoned Gannon from within the book. As the incantation progressed, a dark mist issued forth from the pages, before the covers burst open, releasing a torrent of black clouds and crimson energy, coalescing into the beastly form of the dark lord, Gannon.

“WHO DARES AWAKEN ME FROM MY SLUMBER!?’

“Are you going to do that every time, Gannon?”

Gannon’s expression fell. “AHH, IT IS MY FOOL OF A MASTER ONCE AGAIN. HOW UNFORTUNATE THAT YOU DID NOT SUFFER AN UNTIMELY DEATH AT THE HANDS OF FATE IN MY ABSENCE.”

“Good to see you too, dude. Anyway, listen up. We’re in the middle of a death game right now. I gotta kill all my friends and their representatives in succession before they kill me so I can get a free wish, and you’re going to help me.” said Cap’n, punctuating their statement by pointing directly at Gannon’s face.

“SO, THE MENAGERIE OF FOOLS YOU CALL ‘FRIENDS’ HAVE FINALLY TURNED AGAINST YOU, HAVE THEY?”

“Ehhhh, not quite, this is more of a ‘for fun’ thing. Still gonna crush em in this, though.”

“YOU WILL FIND THAT CRUSHING IS MY SPECIALTY.”

“Good, that’s what I like to hear. Let’s get moving, we’re wasting daylight.”

The two set off into the deep woods together. Not much time had passed before they began to hear some odd noises.

It seemed as if every step they took was strangely echoed. When they’d stop, their footsteps seemed to take a moment too long to follow suit. Again, they’d continue along the forest floor, climbing over roots and shrubs, and again they’d come to a halt, only to hear an extra footstep sound from somewhere nearby, the direction hard to place.

A rustle in the bushes. Cap’n and Gannon both swung their heads around in confusion, and found nothing of note. “I think we’re being followed.”

“YOUR CAPACITY FOR OBSERVATION ASTOUNDS ME. WHAT OTHER WISE INSIGHTS DO YOU HAVE TO OFFER?”

“Don’t be so bitchy, Gannon.”

“AS MY GRACIOUS MASTER COMMANDS,” said Gannon, gritting his sharp, pointed teeth.

The loud sound of a branch snapping in two stops the pair in their tracks once again.

“Alright, I’ve had it up to here with this.” Cap’n reached into their inventory and produced a long, wooden pole, with a curved steel blade at its end. Holding their scythe tightly, Cap’n spoke tersely. “Gannon, get behind me, back-to-back. If you spot anything, blast it off the face of the earth. I’ll take this side.”

Magical lightning crackled around Gannon’s fingertips as he moved into position. “AS YOU COMMAND.” His yellowed eyes narrowed as he scanned the underbrush for signs of movement.

Silence reigned within the forest clearing, as if the woods themselves were holding their breath.

Then, the silence broke like a plate glass window as a growling monstrosity burst from the woods, obscured by the shadows of the canopy above. Radiating an odor of rotting garbage, it howled in what could have been agony or ecstasy.

It approached from the side, surprising Cap’n and Gannon both. They quickly re-positioned, now standing at opposite sides of the clearing with the creature between them.

On closer inspection, Cap’n realized, they must be up against Demadunk’s representative in the tournament, the culinary homunculus Mozz. Visible in the thin light filtering through the leaves above, Mozz’s oozing, cheesy flesh slowly secreted what must have been congealed pizza grease onto the grassy forest floor. The air turned rancid as the creature let out another guttural howl.

Gannon wasted no time, charging and flinging a bolt of lightning from his fingertips. Depending on one’s perspective, this was a poor move, as Mozz immediately roared in agony before bursting into flame as the thick coating of rancid grease covering their body ignited from the intense heat.

The creature’s full, horrifying visage was uncomfortably illuminated in the radiant light of the blaze, like something out of a 1980’s horror film. Its screams of pain reverberated through the trees as it flailed wildly. The smell of burning cheese began to permeate the clearing.

Mozz retaliated by charging towards Gannon on its long, gangly limbs, spreading flaming grease as it went, and leaving a trail of burnt and smashed trees in its wake. Clearly, the thing was deceptively strong.

Cap’n leapt into action, swinging at the creature’s legs with their scythe and severing them in a single blow. The thing toppled to the ground in a blazing heap, letting out another tortured howl. It now feebly crawled towards Cap’n in a blind, animalistic rage.

“Wow, I hate this thing. Let’s get out of here, it’s no threat anymore and I really wanna get downwind before I hurl.”

“UNDER NORMAL CIRCUMSTANCES I WOULD CHASTISE YOU FOR YOUR COWARDICE, BUT I’M INCLINED TO AGREE. LET US ABSCOND WITH ALL HASTE.”

The two quickly vacated the premises, leaving behind the horrible beast in a flaming heap that was sure to cause a rather conspicuous forest fire. Both felt secure in the notion that they would probably never see the thing again.

---

The going was rough on this terrain. As the chill mountain wind blew around them, Cap’n and their unwilling comrade, Gannon, trudged up the slope towards the next plateau.

“REMIND ME ONCE MORE WHY WE WASTE OUR TIME WANDERING AROUND THESE BARREN CRAGS?”

Without looking back at Gannon, Cap’n replied “Well, there are a few reasons. For one, it gives me time to consult my notes, and update my plan of action. After that fight a while back with that fuckin’ pizza monster, I don’t plan on being caught unawares again.”

Gannon scratched his wrinkled chin uncomfortably, remembering that unsettling creature of dough and dairy products. That thing stunk to high heaven, and what’s more, his unlikely master had never encountered the creature before, which made for a rather dicey situation. If things had gone sour, he might have remained trapped between the covers of the Book of Koridai for eternity, as it lay closed on Cap’s lifeless corpse. He returned his focus to Cap’s spiel.

“The second reason is that I have a hunch we’ll be able to get some observational data recorded up here. All we need is a good vantage point…” Cap’n grunted as they began to climb up a more sheer part of the slope, grasping onto the rocks with tough fingers of hardened slime.

“And this spot… should be perfect…”

Gannon floated up alongside Cap’n, nonplussed. “WHILE I HAVE NEVER KNOWN ONE OF YOUR… ‘HUNCHES’, TO STEER US WRONG, YOUR PRIORITIES ARE MISPLACED. EVERY SQUANDERED MOMENT SPENT ON SOME ROCK IS A MOMENT YOUR ENEMIES GROW STRONGER.”

Cap’n dusted off their cloak as they finished climbing up to the top of the plateau. “Oh hush, you old bag. I know exactly what I’m doing, and I know exactly what you’re doing, too. You’re going to suggest I loosen your bindings a bit so you can ‘cut loose’, and then take the opportunity to bump me off. Nah nah nah nah nah. Not gonna happen.” Cap’n wagged his finger a little too closely to Gannon’s face, and his expression darkened.

“TAUNT ME AGAIN AND YOU WILL REGRET IT ALL THE MORE WHEN MY BINDINGS FINALLY WEAKEN AND SET ME FREE.”

“Sure, buddy. And I’m the queen of New Newbiggins By-The-Sea, AKA Real, Actual London. Anyway, we’re here. If my calculations are right, the man we’re here to silently observe should be somewhere down below.”

The sky was grey and clouded as the two cloaked figures stood on the yellowed grass. A small, flat plateau, topped with a gnarled, dead tree, overlooked a massive, craggy valley below, with nary a sign of life to be found within it.

None, except for a lone figure standing on the gravel. Despite the dim light from above, he seemed to shine like a golden star, reflecting the wan light in a way that seemed to multiply its brilliance. It was none other than Goldspin, wearing his trademark pointed shades, which glittered with a emerald sheen.

“Ahhh, and there he is.” Cap’n busted out a pair of binoculars and a set of writing tools, setting the Bestiary on the ground in front of them. It trembled slightly with the cold touch of the earth, but a gentle stroke along the edges of its furry cover from Cap’n calmed it down. “I knew he’d be somewhere like this. That guy is anime as all hell, with a flair for epic battles. I’ve seen enough Dragon Ball to know he’d pick a spot like this, big, open, and barren, to wait for his first big confrontation.”

Focusing the binoculars to sharpen the image, Cap’n looked to see Goldspin standing solemnly in place, arms crossed and head raised, almost like a piece of Greek statuary, radiating a warrior’s pride.

“WHAT IS THE YELLOW FOOL DOING DOWN THERE?”

“Mostly standing around, menacingly, waiting for a challenger.”

“WE SHOULD UTILIZE THE ELEMENT OF SURPRISE AND TAKE THE OPPORTUNITY TO DESTROY HIM NOW.”

“Not yet. I know this dude, he’s got incredible amounts of physical strength. If there were any time to hop into a fight with him, it wouldn’t be now. Maybe after he fights someone else, when he’s tuckered out, but not now. Besides, I need to collect more data on his fighting style first. My understanding is that it’s very direct, but I need field data to confirm that. On top of that, we’re barely equipped to survive right now, let alone fight Goldspin. I’d have to rely on your sassy attitude and magicks to even make it out alive.”

“HMPH. COWARDICE.”

“Sure, dude.” Cap’n rolled their skeletal eyes, not dignifying Gannon’s remark with their attention. Cap’n knew Gannon always advocated a lack of self-preservation when he knew he couldn’t do harm directly because of his magickal bindings.

A few minutes passed without much happening. Goldspin stood stoically as ever, seemingly unaware of Cap’s presence on the high cliff above, who silently watched him while Gannon grew increasingly bored. The clouds moved briskly across the sky, as if in a hurry to be anywhere else.

Cap’n started as Goldspin altered their posture, seemingly in anticipation of something, before the excitement faded as he scratched his chin and returned to his pose.

“I GROW TIRED OF THIS. GIVE ME THE ORDER AND I SHALL MELT THE FLESH FROM HIS BONES, YOU COWARDLY WHELP!”

“That’s gonna be tough, he looks to be made of metal. Pretty sure he’s a robot anyway, judging by how the seams in his limbs look, so he probably has equally metallic bones. I know you have some serious firepower of your own, but unless you can create enough heat to exceed the melting temperature of steel, at the least, it’s gonna take a bit more than what you got. Still, it’s not a half-bad idea, provided we can actually crank the heat.”

Gannon’s taunt fell flat, with Cap’n firmly in analysis mode. He considered his options with regards to heat-producing magic. He was, indeed, capable of controlling flames sufficient to melt stone, but this was rather energy intensive, and the radiant quality of fire’s heat made it a poor choice for single targets or jobs requiring a speedy melt.

Lightning, on the other hand, would perhaps be more effective, if utilized properly. One would have to foster the persistence and girth of the electrical bolts, to maximize their heating potential.

“COULD NOT THE FORCES OF THUNDER AND LIGHTNING ACCOMPLISH THIS?”

“Not a bad idea, supercharged plasma does tend to heat things much quicker than simple flame. The electromagnetism factor could also come in handy against a robot, but I have a hunch it won’t be as much of a factor against Goldspin. Take a look through these for a sec.” Cap’n was holding another set of binoculars, more fancy-looking than the last. Gannon took hold of them and gazed through the viewport.

Visible through the binocs was Goldspin, in a variety of unnatural colors. “Red parts are hot, blue are cold,” explained Cap’n. “If this guy was powered by electricity, you’d expect to see hot areas where his processing units and power cables were, but nothing I can see matches up with that. Instead, there’s this big hot area right in his chest, radiating throughout his body. And look closer, do you see those weird eddy currents of heat along his outer shell?”

Sure enough, zooming in revealed a slight, rhythmic ripple in the temperature gradient along Goldspin’s outer armor layer.

“WHAT SIGNIFICANCE DOES THIS HAVE?” said Gannon, as he returned the thermal scope to Cap’n.

“Right now? I’m not sure. It suggests we won’t be able to rely on any EMP effects of your lightning magic to incapacitate him, but I think it hints at something more. I have my suspicions, but I’ll need more data.

“DATA, DATA, DATA. DO YOU SPEAK OF ANYTHING BESIDES DATA?”

Cap’n smirked. “Once in a blue moon.” They returned their attention to the valley below as Gannon sighed.

Goldspin was looking up, now, chin turned skyward. The clouds seemed to gather for a moment, before parting to reveal a figure standing on a tiny puff of cloud, zipping down from the sky before landing on the ground with a CLUNK some ten feet from Goldspin, whose gaze followed them on the way down.

“Aha! A challenger. Let’s watch them, the battle data we’ll gather here will be very valuable.”

“AT THE VERY LEAST THERE WILL BE SOMETHING TO ENTERTAIN ME AS I SIT HERE IDLY ON THIS SPIRE OF ROCK.”

The figure below, standing opposed to Goldspin, was also clad in shining metal. Opting for pastel and neon blues and pinks rather than Goldspin’s more modest golden color, they were about a head taller, despite having a slightly hunched-over posture at the moment.

Where Goldspin’s design seemed to try and capture the human form in metal, this new fighter instead took the humanoid body template as more of a suggestion. Their limbs were large and thick, connected by visibly hinged joints or magnetic connectors, and crackling with electrical energy. Their head and body was wreathed in cloud, and they regarded Goldspin curiously.

Cap’n knew this fighter from their notes as RoboDobot V2.

The two fighters began exchanging words, inaudible from such a distance. Cap’n produced a directional microphone, and, affixing the headphones to his skull, attempted to listen in. The howling wind made it difficult to capture the sound, but Cap’n could gather that Robo was by far the more energetic of the two fighters, and seemed to be itching for a fight. Goldspin, on the other hand, was seemingly composed, and remained stoic and proud.

Seemingly finished with the formalities, Goldspin held out his fist, offering a fist bump to begin the battle.

Robo responded by delivering a hard kick, delivered express via a backflip, to the fist, flipping Goldspin over four times and sending him flying backwards several feet, before he landed perfectly on his feet, in the same posture as before.

He assumed a fighting stance, and adjusted his sunglasses before rushing towards Robo at incredible speed, seemingly sliding along the ground. Robo dodged the incoming punch, but was blown back by a sudden spiralling gust of wind, kicked up by Goldspin’s attack.

Robo retaliates by stomping on the hard earth, sending out a shockwave which quickly dissipated before a pillar of stone rose out of the ground, lifting Goldspin several storeys into the air. Robo leapt into the air in hot pursuit.

They were met with a barrage of projectiles as Goldspin fired a series of tiny drill missiles from his fingertips, halting their advance and giving him the opportunity to jump into the air and perform a diagonal kick, hurtling like a meteor towards Robo.

Robo shakes off the projectile attack and coats themself in a protective layer of crystalline ice, warding off the impact of the kick. The ice shattered as Robo flexed their robotic actuators, and they grabbed Goldspin’s foot with their manipulators, swinging him around in a circle before letting him fly away, subject to gravity’s whims.

Goldspin, impossibly, rights himself in mid-air, before landing on his feet, skidding back a bit before coming to a stop. He seems to gather himself for a moment, and begins to focus his power, kicking up the dusty earth in spiralling currents. Suddenly, he’s gone from the spot, flying at bullet speed in a whirlwind spin with one foot extended in a spinning kick.

The kick collides with Robo’s hands as they attempt to resist its impact, but some mysterious force sends them hurtling away to the left, tumbling over themself.

Goldspin and Robo both hit the ground at the same time – one standing, the other in a crumpled pile in the dirt. Robo rights themself, seemingly annoyed, while Goldspin merely stands with his back turned to his opponent.

Robo’s frustrated affect seems to evaporate for a few moments, as their screens and facial expression go blank, before returning again shortly after. Robo looks more confident, now.

Their arm’s reconfigure into a new shape, as Robo’s wrists fold away to reveal a set of rotary cannons. They spin up and a barrage of ice crystals bursts forth in a torrent towards Goldspin.

On the defensive now, Goldspin is hopping speedily around, avoiding the spray of deadly ice that now chews up the very earth around him. The barrage moves to the right, Goldspin moves back. Robo tracks him as he moves, but he jumps left. The ground is increasingly becoming coated in sharp, icy crystals, and its once even surface is now raked with deep tracks where Robo’s icy onslaught has passed.

Goldspin changes tactics, standing in place and fabricating a large drill seemingly from thin air, spinning it up, faster and faster, before aiming it directly in the path of the ice blast.

Its rotation is fast enough to defend completely from the attack, sending a storm of ice crystals careening away from the battle in all directions. One flies just past Cap’s face, embedding itself in the dead tree next to them.

Goldspin presses the advantage as Robo turns up the juice on the icy barrage, trudging forward, drill in hand, pushing through the ice and frost, faster now, and faster still, until he’s in a full run, faster and faster he moves, sprinting towards Robo through the storm, until he’s there, and the drill makes contact.

An explosion occurs, but the smoke and dust make it impossible for Cap’n to see anything going on within. Flashes of light seem to emanate from the thick cloud, some seemingly created by lightning, others less identifiable.

Their frequency increases for a moment before slowing down again, and as the smoke clears, both fighters are standing, exhausted, across from each other.

Suddenly, Robo starts what seems to be a verbal assault, going on a tirade at the stationary Goldspin. Cap’n still can’t hear what they’re going on about, but Robo certainly isn’t pleased. Goldspin just stands still, like a statue.

When the verbal attack is over, Goldspin is still for a moment, before adjusting their glasses and saying something short.

Clearly, whatever he said wasn’t the response Robo was looking for, and the cloud-wreathed fighter rushed towards Goldspin, lunging with a blade of ice coated by lightning extending from their buster arm.

The two fighters began their dance once again, but something was different this time. Goldspin began to take more hits, and Robo exhibited a dodging ability above and beyond what they’d displayed up to this point. It was as if they could see more of Goldspin’s punches coming.

Gannon interrupted this scene by interjecting. “HARK, MASTER. GAZE AT THE VALLEY’S MAW. ANOTHER CHALLENGER APPROACHES.”

With an undignified “Wuh?”, Cap’n looked up from the binoculars, now mounted on a tripod standing over their notes, and saw, moving in the direction of the battle below, far into the distance, a speck. It moved quickly, trailing a cloud of dust and dirt in its wake.

Cap’n hurriedly aimed the binoculars in its direction. It was difficult to make out from such a distance, but as the focus knob brought the image into sharper relief, Cap’n was able to make out some kind of blackened creature.

Its surface was reflective, perhaps suggestive of a black carapace, and it moved rather quickly, sprinting across the dusty ground at speeds rivalling high performance sports cars.

It bore down on the scene of the fight, which continued to progress. It was increasingly clear that both fighters were evenly matched at the moment, but at any time either of them would bust out some hidden power to turn the tide.

Getting closer now, Cap’n was able to get a better view of the thing. It seemed insectoid in nature, having a tapered face, antennae, and, indeed, as Cap’n had suspected, a black, shiny carapace, which seemed to anti-glow with an inner darklight.

Cap’n recognized that aspect in a heartbeat. This creature was composed of antislime.

Flipping through the Bestiary, a hunch burning in their skeletal mind, Cap’n landed on the chapter about the Solar Moths, and understood. Moth was in the area.

Cap’n was beginning to have second thoughts about this recon mission now. They felt reasonably able to lay low and stay undetected up on this mountain, but the scale of the battle below had gotten uncomfortably large. They would have had to reposition soon either way, regardless of the intrusion of another fighter’s minion, but the addition of a third combatant made things too complicated to remain in place another minute.

Two pairs of eyes to hide from was bad enough, but a third posed too much risk.

More importantly, Cap’n planned to tackle the Solar Moths much later, and being detected by them could prove to be problematic given their hive mother’s capacity for remote surveillance. That telepathic connection between hive members was pesky, indeed. Plus, that super-charged Husk below looked pretty mean and dangerous.

“Gannon, it’s time we hid ourselves. I command you to cast a cloak of darkness to hide us from view.”

“AS YOU WISH, MY COWARDLY MASTER. MAKE US HIDDEN AND OBSCURE, CLOAK US WITH MANTLE OF DARKNESS PURE…”

For a moment, the view of the battle below blurred and distorted, before reverting to normal, with a slightly darkened tint.

From the outside, it appeared as if a gathering of black energy coalesced around the spot where they sat, before dissipating, revealing an unremarkable, empty plateau. Viewers of the scene would find themselves struggling to discern anything of note within the area the two now occupied, as if there were a blind spot in their vision.

Cap’n picked up their things, leaving behind a few stolen security cameras, hidden in a hollow in the tree, to watch the scene below, before setting off down the mountain whence they came, to take refuge in a cave they’d spotted somewhere along the path.

As they walked, shrouded by the darkness that hid them, Cap’n looked back towards the spot they had observed from. At that moment, they saw the insectoid warrior fly high into the air, as if from a ridiculously high jump, somersaulting multiple times before switching their stance in mid-air. Its legs extended out into a kick, and it shot like an arrow diagonally downwards. An explosion rang out, shaking the ground Cap’n stood on. They continued down the path.

---

The next day, Cap’n investigated the site of the battle, working their way down the cliffs until they reached the valley below. Craters littered the valley floor, along with wide gouges and other scars left by the fight. Here, a massive spire of ice extended incongruously from the rocky earth, glittering in the morning sun. There, a mangled mess of what appeared to be fulgurite. Broken drills were scattered throughout the area, of sizes ranging from that of one’s pinky finger to the size of cars. The trail of destruction extended all the way up the valley, towards another set of mountains.

“My, my, they certainly left quite the mess.” Cap’n rubbed their hands together. “More for us to analyze.”

Gannon rose from the pages of the Book of Koridai in a red haze of smoke. “YOU ALLOWED YOUR ENEMIES TO ESCAPE. HOW VERY SHAMEFUL.”

“I’ll grant you that it’s shameful, but you already know I’ve got a shortage of shame. Besides, if we’d jumped in, any of the fighters could have creamed us on their own. More importantly, they left so many samples for us!”

Cap’n eagerly dug into their inventory and produced a variety of items. Small metal measuring instruments, a pocket spectrometer, a sketchbook, the Bestiary and its associated notes, writing tools, a set of delicate leather gloves poached from the ruins of a jeweller’s shop, some magnifying glasses, and a worn Polaroid camera were all at the ready.

Having retrieved the video cameras from the observation spot, Cap’n knew the battle had been particularly violent. Cap’n had carefully recorded all the fighting techniques used by each party in the battle in their notes after waking up this morning, noting any interesting observations.

Robo, for example, seemed to have control over weather phenomena and the properties of gases and minerals, which they used to great effect in a fight. On top of that, their buster arms were a force to be reckoned with, able to put out highly destructive blasts of various forms of elemental energy.

Goldspin, meanwhile, seemed to be able to create matter out of thin air in the form of their trademark drills, no small feat. On top of that, Cap’n recognized another power GS possessed, something Cap’n tentatively referred to as “The Spin”. It seemed to behave similarly to Hamon or the Golden Spin of Jojo’s Bizarre Adventure fame, which Cap’n had closely studied ages ago as part of the Killer Entrance Exams back home. In short, it allowed GS to apply rotational force in a variety of ways to himself and his environment. Certainly an interesting ability.

The third combatant was more mysterious. Cap’s tentative name for it was “The Black Rider”. This Rider creature was obviously one of the Solar Moths’ myriad Husks. Solar Moths have a highly variable physiology, due in part to their cellular composition – inconsistent to the point of absurdity – and in part due to the ability of the hive mother to create entirely new phenotypes on the fly. The Black Rider must be one such example, having extremely powerful legs constructed similarly to those of grasshoppers, giving them explosive leg strength. The only other remarkable thing about them was their carapace, confusingly enough.

Unlike most Solar Moth exoskeletons, which are composed of a rigid, hardened layer of antislime protecting vulnerable innards of slime, the Rider seemed to have a composition closer to that of fiberglass insulation. Consequently, their structure was weaker and more vulnerable to piercing force, but this appeared to have been incorporated into the design. It seemed to possess the ability to regenerate itself when damaged, reforming the fibers around any foreign body in a thick tangle.

Exactly how that was possible was opaque to Cap’n. Their area of expertise was never cellular dynamics or anything in the world of the microcosmos, and the answer surely lay there.

In any case, the battle ended in a draw. Somewhere along the way, Robo got bored or frustrated enough to simply leave the battlefield, tearing what seemed to be a hole in space before hopping through and closing it behind them. GS, meanwhile, had to contend with the Rider, whose sticky, regenerating body made his drill-based attacks ineffective. Goldspin relied on grapples and throws, tossing around the Rider like a children’s toy with Robo absent, before fleeing the scene when it became apparent the Rider was durable enough to survive the onslaught. The Rider did not attempt pursuit, instead returning from whence it came, wherever that was.

The footage just about ended here, when the cameras went into power-save mode due to lack of detected movement. However, right at the end of the footage, the motion detector in one camera was triggered, some 5 hours after the battle was over. A small, feline creature, with wings and antennae, and pure black, like the Rider, trotted along the plateau, sniffing around before laying down for a nap, covering itself with its fluffy tail and its wings, whose eyespots leered directly into the camera lens before the footage finally ended.

When Cap’n retrieved the cameras, there was no sign of the Mothcat. Cap’n shuddered to think of the incident. Their notes made mention of this creature, but offered very little data to explain its nature. However, a gut feeling of dread and fear hovered just on the periphery of Cap’s awareness whenever they thought about the Mothcat. Something was deeply wrong with that creature, and they intended to find out what, but they couldn’t help but wonder what the cost might be if they succeeded.

Cap’n shook their head, regaining focus. There was research to be done. Cap’n diligently collected various samples from the aftermath left behind by the skirmish from the day before. Into Cap’s inventory went drill fragments, ice scrapings, scorched soil samples, tiny slivers of still-quivering antislime fibers, and a handful of shrapnel, composed of various fragments of multiple varieties of metal alloys. As they worked, they took various measurements on the now-empty battlefield. Crater widths, gouge depths, approximations on the heat of explosions, ambient radiation levels, both mundane and esoteric, all were recorded and tabulated, annotated with photographs and sketches.

When they were done, they returned to the mountain cave, much to the ever-impatient Gannon’s chagrin, to spend the remainder of the day analyzing what they found.

“Every little detail could mean the difference between life and death later, Gannon. These things take time to analyze, ya gotta trust the process.”

Gannon only grumbled in response. By the early evening, Cap’n had finished their work, having cross-referenced their notes with the sample data and the observations on the battle.

The results were rather interesting. The Rider samples more or less confirmed Cap’s suspicions about its origin with the Solar Moths, being composed mostly of an emulsion of slime and antislime stretched like cotton candy into a fibrous mass. The fibers were very thin, and behaved like fiberglass, embedding themselves into permeable surfaces when excessive friction was applied, and fragmenting under torsion. They didn’t ignite when burned, nor did they respond in any notable way to electrical impulses. Insoluble in water, and resistant to corrosion in most common corrosive chemicals, they were rather tough. Cap’n wished they had some more ornery chemicals to test on them, but their kit only held the bare essentials.

Meanwhile, the data collected on Robo was re-contextualized in light of residual thaumic resonance detected at the site of the battle. Cap’n had initially assumed that Robo was, well, completely robotic, operating on established, if esoteric, physical principles, but getting a reading of trace magical residue suggested otherwise. It wasn’t like any magical traces Cap’n had seen before, either. Most wizardly types left behind large, continuous swathes of magical energy, distributed in wide bands or sheets that had a kind of smooth, wavy consistency to them. Robo’s traces, on the other hand, were more discrete, consisting of angular shapes or intermittent, repeating pulses in complex patterns. They certainly didn’t resemble any spells Cap’n had heard of, but their effects seemed to be roughly analogous despite that. The topic practically begged for further research, but that would require getting close to Robo, whose disposition seemed unpredictable at best and dangerous to life and limb at worst, or so it seemed from the battle footage.

Most interesting of all were the samples associated with Goldspin. Getting a close look at the metal alloys in the drill fragments and trace fragments of GS’s hull on and around them, Cap’n initially had a hard time pinning down the composition. The alloy was unfamiliar, but after a bit more analysis it became clear that it was composed in large part of elemental gold, along with various tougher elements like titanium, tungsten, and osmium. Obviously the flexibility of this alloy was rather anomalous, given the acrobatics displayed by Goldspin in the footage, but interestingly it didn’t seem to exhibit as much bendability in the lab, being more rigid overall. Cap’n hypothesized that it must be a property conferred onto the metal by The Spin, or something along those lines. Whorls in the material’s molecular structure corroborated this.

In terms of durability, it was quite tough, being resistant to scratching, piercing, and denting, even by the toughest tools. However, the presence of gold seemed to reduce the melting point of the alloy by a fair bit, offsetting some of the heat resistance of the other constituent metals. Under extreme conditions, the stuff would surely melt, but whether or not such conditions could be engineered was another story.

Pondering over this, Cap’n turned to Gannon for advice, having run up against a metaphorical wall. “D’you think you have enough juice in you to melt this stuff?”

“GIVEN ENOUGH TIME, I CAN REDUCE ANYTHING TO A MERE PUDDLE. HOWEVER, TO DO SO IN A SHORT PERIOD WOULD BE… DIFFICULT.”

“Not really within your power, then…” Cap’s brow furrowed.

“ALL IS WITHIN THE POWER OF THE PRINCE OF DARKNESS, GANNON,” he began, but Cap’n had already tuned out his prideful tirade to focus back on the sample being examined.

Their analytical mind was firing on all cylinders searching for a weakness or flaw they could exploit. Cap’n had a feeling that the fact that the alloy had a composition based on gold might be the key, the question was how…

Bingo. Flipping frantically through their notes, Cap’n scrambled for the entry they were looking for.

“There. Aqua Regia.”

Gannon’s rant halted in its tracks. “OF COURSE! THE WATER OF KINGS, LION OF GREEN, DEVOURER OF THE SUN OF GOLD.”

“One part nitric acid to three parts hydrochloric, one of the only acids capable of dissolving gold, as held in ancient knowledge going back to the alchemists of old. Produces chloroauric acid in the presence of gold. If we could get our hands on a concentrated form of the stuff…”

“SAY NO MORE, MY MASTER. I SHALL TRANSMUTE AS MUCH AS WE NEED WHEN THE TIME COMES.”

“That’s what I like to hear.” Cap’n scribbled down a few more notes before shutting the book and packing up their things. “Alright, I think we’ve learned a lot today. Time to shift gears. We need allies if we’re gonna stand a chance against tough contenders like that, and I’ve already got some ideas as to who we could link up with.”

“SURELY YOU DON’T INTEND TO EMPLOY SOMETHING AS FLIMSY AS TRUST IN A GAME OF LIFE AND DEATH SUCH AS THIS?”

“Of course not, I carefully selected my prospects specifically because I intend to betray them as soon as it becomes convenient.”

“DELIGHTFULLY DEVILISH. WHO WILL BE OUR FIRST VICTIM?”

“Hmm… How about…”

---

“Hey, Liz! What’s the word?”

“The word is ‘boredom’,” replied the silver-haired mage from behind her sunglasses, “you’re the only actual person I’ve run into since the start, I was beginning to think I had accidentally walked out of bounds or something. Wouldn’t be the first time, heh heh!”

Getting on Liz’s good side had been almost too easy. Cap’n had nearly forgotten her presence in their contact list, but a few friendly words over the gellphone and Liz popped right over, perfectly happy to team up with another fighter for some, quote, “crime times”.

“Well, you picked the right fella to team with. I’ve been keeping track of a bunch of stuff, so I’ve got a solid idea of where some of the other fighters are. I already ran into a few of em, but I’m doing a sort of ‘incognito’ thing, trying to lay low.”

“I feel ya, I feel.” Liz scratched her chin and gazed off into the middle distance as they walked through the ruins of an old city, buildings crumbling and overgrown. “I guess you haven’t been into any fights yet, then?”

“No, there was one near the start. Got jumped by some kind of… I dunno, a pizza homunculus? Stunk like mad.”

Liz snapped her fingers and pointed at Cap’n. “Hey, I remember that thing! I ran into it, too. Not very strong, is it?”

“Well, it was strong enough to bust through multiple trees, but it folded pretty quick when it got set on fire and had its legs cut off.”

“Damn, you had a tougher time with it than I did, then. I just had to make a scary face at it, and then it ran off.”

“There’s no way, that thing was more feral than a rabid coyote!”

“It was a very scary face.”

Cap’n shrugged their shoulders. “Well, fair enough, I suppose.”

Gannon was safely tucked within the Book of Koridai, returned to his prison as a gesture of nonaggression. Liz reciprocated by stowing her guns and spellbook within her coat, and the two had been on peaceful terms since.

Of course, that was partially just a facade. Internally, Cap’n was in an analytical mode, logging and pondering all manner of observations and data points. Liz was one of the few fully human fighters involved in the tournament, and Cap’s solid grasp of hominid psychology was coming in pretty handy alongside the existing rapport between the two.

Something about Liz was bothering Cap’n, though. They couldn’t put their finger on it, but there was a certain distance in the way Liz spoke, that suggested… well, something. It was hard to say what at the moment, but Cap’n remained wary just in case.

The two were searching a set of metropolitan ruins on another of Cap’s hunches. The fighters in the tournament were an eclectic bunch, but Cap’n knew many were NLACakaNM natives, and they were bound to get homesick for city environs at some point. It’d be their best bet to find such fighters here, among the shattered tenements and hollowed-out businesses.

The going was slow, however. The close quarters offered by the narrow city streets mired the pair in the urban sprawl, and searching individual buildings, while rewarding in the context of loot-gathering, was decidedly not yielding much results related to their objective. Nonetheless, Liz and Cap’n journeyed on, chatting about anything and nothing as they went.

Liz was quite amicable, if a bit laissez-faire about the whole “death game” situation. She bore a certain confidence borne of luck and stubbornness, feeling secure in the idea that, even if she was fated to lose, she’d figure something out, or at least have a wild ride to look forward to. Cap’n had to catch themself almost admiring that strength and remember that their main objective was to backstab her when the opportunity presented itself.

In particular, Cap’n was exceedingly interested in the contents of her spellbook. Cap’n, as a scholar, was well-versed in all branches of lore, the subject of the occult arts being no exception. However, the practical aspects of such lore had generally eluded them, hence their reliance on Gannon for all things magical in combat.

Liz, however, seemed to have no trouble with this aspect of magic use. Rather, she had what seemed to be an overabundance of magic at her disposal, with backfires and inconvenient rebounds being frequent occurrences, if Liz’s stories were to be believed. Moreover, Cap’n noticed the way that Liz thought of magic was radically different than the accounts listed in the dusty tomes to which they were accustomed. It was as if Liz approached the art of magic from the complete opposite end from most mages.

In short, Liz’s viewpoint on magic was firmly rooted in the realm of practical applications, which, for an art as impractical and rich in theory as magic, was no small feat. Cap’n needed to get their hands on that spellbook, they had a hunch that its contents might be the key to finally applying all that they’d learned about the occult. At the very least, it was sure to have some useful spells inside, and the power boost was desperately needed at this stage. The less reliant on Gannon’s ornery attitude, the better, Cap’n thought.

It came to pass that the pair wandered into what must have once been the main street of the ruined city. Hollowed out cars littered the path before them, and the hollowed-out husks of skyscrapers loomed above. Coming to a large open square, Cap’n was reminded of photographs they’d seen of the fabled “New York City” said to have once been a major metropolis along the east coast of the United States before climate change had put it hundreds of feet underwater.

Then, from a leaning lamppost, a voice rang out as its owner emerged from behind the post.

“Wwweeelllll, weeeeellll, wellll. If it isn’t my old pals Cap’n Metalhead and LizWiz! What are you two nerds up to, huh?” A man clad in orange wearing a set of wraparound goggles stood before the two travellers, rubbing his hands together.

It was Dan, theatrical as ever. Cap’n spoke first. “Oh, you know, just moseying. On the lookout for any nerds and ne’er-do-wells, just like I assume you were doing.”

Dan scratched the back of his head. “Perceptive as ever, Cap, but also, uh, wrong. I was just in the neighborhood and thought I’d pop over and say hello two my two dear, dear friends.”

Cap’n could see clearly what Dan was doing. The man was a master of the art of speechcraft, with a silver tongue and a wily temperament. Dan’s reputation as a skilled combatant and hardened criminal preceded him, so, it seemed to Cap’n, he’d only approach another fighter – or fighters – if he had an ulterior motive. The question was, what?

Liz spoke up. “Well, that’s totally chill. We’re all friends here, after all. Plenty of room in the troupe, I say. Welcome aboard!” She punctuated her statement by extending her hand.

Dan took it in a firm handshake. “It would be my pleasure.”

Cap’n agreed, hiding their reluctance for the moment. Cap’n hadn’t planned to run into Dan so soon, but the addition of Dan into their group was a calculated risk, from Cap’s perspective. While Dan may be a more skilled combatant than both Liz and Cap’n, with their powers combined they would be able to overpower him. Dan must have known this before offering to join, Cap’n thought. That being the case, his goal must not be to immediately kill the both of them. Of course, that was no guarantee of their safety, far from it. It just meant that Dan was seeking something else from them.

At the very least, keeping Dan close meant it’d be easier to observe him. The problem with that, however, is that Cap’n would also be observed in turn. The file on Dan within Cap’s notes suggested he had a very similar fighting style to Cap’n, focusing on intelligence gathering before applying the tactics derived therefrom to swiftly end a battle. They had a hunch, though, that Dan’s version of the strategy may utilize a more shallow depth of knowledge, focusing more on figuring out a prospective enemy’s tactics and temperament than building a comprehensive profile. Cap’n would have to bank on that assumption, all the while dodging any verbal traps Dan might lay to coax out any details.

Whether Dan’s truncated tactics-based profiling or Cap’s more comprehensive profiling would prove to be more effective was up to fate.

The trio wandered together, off into the urban wilderness.

---

An opaque blanket of cloud shrouded the night sky, blotting out the stars as Cap’n, Dan, and Liz sat gathered around a fire sitting in an old metal trash bin, sheltered from the chill wind by three-quarters of what must have once been either a bodega or a hardware store. The branding was rather ambiguous, and the remaining products, eclectic.

Liz seemed lost in some kind of meditation or fugue state, muttering to herself and not responding when addressed, while Cap’n went over their notes and Dan idly drummed his fingers on his knee rhythmically.

The trio had spent the better part of the day wandering the full extent of the crumbling city, but hadn’t found much of interest besides some food, a few useful knick knacks, and some spare parts, enough for Dan and Liz to maintain their weapons and for Dan to slap together a crappy Glock knock-off for Cap’n to use as a sidearm. Cap’n suspected it’d make a much better bomb than a functioning sidearm, but nonetheless stowed it in their robes for safekeeping.

Cap’s time spent observing in the midst of their wanderings only deepened their suspicion towards the pair. Cap’n was confident now that both Liz and Dan weren’t acting entirely genuinely, and was beginning to form theories as to why.

Dan was a fairly simple case – he barely hid his Machiavellian streak behind a layer of humor, and Cap’n was certain he’d be the first to betray the group when opportunity knocked.

Liz, meanwhile, was an anomaly. Initially, Cap’n had her pegged for a useful, if naive ally, but her behavior had subtly changed when Dan had joined their group. Or, more accurately, her personality had changed, as if to better fit the new group dynamic. Cap’n almost missed the change entirely, catching it only after reviewing their notes and cross-referencing them with his gathered knowledge on human psychology. The results were clear: Liz’s change, subtle though it be, shouldn’t have been possible under normal circumstances, implying some deeper quirk working below the surface.

Cap’n supposed it wouldn’t matter quite so much as long as they kept up the appearance of a trusted ally. Liz seemed fooled, but Cap’n had no such illusions about Dan’s perspective on things. He was going to be a problem, if not because his role as an extra pair of eyes complicated things, then because he must have already intuited some parts of Cap’s plans.

Dan spoke. “Hey, Cap. I’ve been uh, meaning to ask. That big book of yours, whatcha got in there?”

“Oh, lots of stuff. All kinds of notes and whatnot, particularly on animals. Like, did you know that starfish evert their stomachs in order to feed? It’s a trick they use to get around the fact that shellfish hide inside shells that are hard to enter.”

“That’s cool, that’s cool. But, uh, why are you feeding it?” said Dan, punctuating the question by pointing at the Bestiary.

Cap’n was in the middle of feeding a knock-off candy bar to the book. It softly cooed in appreciation before slurping up the candy bar, wrapper and all.

“It’s hungry.”

“… Rriiiiiight.” Dan replied uncertainly.

I wonder why Dan asked me about the Bestiary, Cap’n thought. He’d surely seen them writing notes into the thing during their short stint as allies, so clearly that wasn’t what he wanted to know about. Think, Cap’n. If you were Dan, why would you ask about what is clearly a notebook?

A bit of pondering made the answer clear: Dan was curious about any special features the book might have. He was currently travelling with a wizard and a rogue scholar, the abilities of which would currently not be fully known to him. Learning about the powers and limitations of any special artifacts Liz and Cap’n were carrying would be of utmost importance to his interests.

Something about his line of questioning kept niggling at the back of Cap’s skull, though. It was as if there was a thread dangling infuriatingly in front of their face. Cap’n decided to pull on it.

A memory came back of their time in the city of slime, that Mecca of crime and villainy. A group of antiquarians had moved into town, and were drumming up support from the local petty criminals in order to reduce the workload of discovering ancient relics buried under the city streets. Daniel was at the forefront, but not as a treasure hunter, no. His motivation was nothing more than hunger and a sort of laissez-faire attitude towards history. Artifact after artifact was slurped down his gullet, digested fully and completely thanks to the gastronomic mutations they sold down at the walk-in clinic on the south side of the city. Wild times, they were.

But what did that anecdote have to do with Daniel now, in this situation? Cap’n pointed their glowing eyes Dan-ward, and caught his wandering gaze lingering for a moment on Liz’s spellbook before he closed his eyes and leaned back, resting his head in his hands.

Had Cap’n seen a touch of hunger in Dan’s eyes just then? Or were they merely projecting? Cap’n pulled the Bestiary just a little closer to themself.

The unsettling possibility that Dan might try and steal Liz’s spellbook before Cap’n could became uncomfortably clear. Such an outcome could prove disastrous if things got out of hand.

Considering the hypothetical future where Dan obtained the book, Cap’n tried to piece together what would happen. Dan would almost certainly eat the book, being unable to divine its occult secrets through scholarship. He’d probably gain some power in doing so, Cap’n had heard plenty of stories from his relic hunting days about Dan manifesting strange powers upon consuming magical items. More than likely, Liz would be quickly dispatched, as she surely wouldn’t give up her best source of power without a fight, and would only be able to rely on pluck and her weapons without it. At that point, Cap’s numbers advantage against Dan, the only real force keeping the fragile alliance intact, would shatter, putting Cap’n in hot water. At best, Cap’n would lose their opportunity for a power-up. At worst, Dan would use the power he may or may not gain from consuming the spellbook and press the advantage, removing both Liz and Cap’n from the game in one fell swoop.

This was unacceptable. Cap’n began discreetly writing notes and plans on how to evade this outcome, and hoped dearly that the alliance would survive just a couple days more. They needed an opportunity, and fast.

Just then, Liz started. “Bwuh, what did I miss, how long was I out???”

Cap’n replied before Dan could. “Roughly two and a half hours, give or take a few minutes. How was the deep meditation sesh?”

“Deep meditation?”

“Isn’t that what you were doing?”

Liz chuckled. “No, I just totally zoned out. Happens sometimes, you know how it is.”

Dan piped up. “Trrrruueee, Liz! Heh, heh… Anyway, have a fuckin chocolate bar.”

Dan lobbed a candy bar into Liz’s lap. “Ooh, thanks Dan!” She eagerly dug in to her new snack.

Cap’n shook their head, smiling faintly. As much as they were all in a life-and-death competition, they were all still friends, and the levity they shared was as sweet and refreshing as ever. Cap’n would almost feel bad when it came time to violently betray them later, but they knew what they signed up for when entering the tournament. Plus, it wasn’t as if most of them were strangers to casual friendly murder. The NLACakaNM upbringing fosters a certain cavalier attitude to such things.

Returning to matters of strategy, Cap’n continued to ponder their options. One way or the other, Dan had to go, preferably before Liz kicked the bucket and the opportunity to steal her spellbook was lost. That being the case, perhaps it would be best to collaborate with her for a time, presenting a stronger, more unified force against Dan. He probably wouldn’t have an answer for that.

Cap’n felt much more comfortable about the idea of taking on Dan two-to-one. It was likely that such circumstances presented a worst-case scenario for Dan, at least regarding his potential betrayal plans. Liz’s magics, combined with Gannon’s, should prove difficult for Dan to counter, that was certain. With Dan out of the way, it would be much easier to purloin the book from Liz, as well as remove her as an issue going forward.

Another option was to take the initiative and deal with Liz before Dan got the chance to. With spellbook in hand, Cap’n would surely be in a better position to fight Dan, or at least drive him away long enough to escape.

Both plans would be complicated by Dan’s presence. His close proximity would make it difficult to separate Liz from him for long enough to make them possible to execute. Still, Cap’n would have to figure something out. More than likely, Dan was going to intuit Cap’s plan before they had a chance to put it fully into action, so they’d need to come up with contingencies.

And so, Cap’n wrote on into the night…

---

Cap’n awoke from one of many half-sleeps to the light of the morning sun. They’d been careful to sleep with one eye open, as a preventative measure for having their things stolen. One part ingrained habit from NLACakaNM living, one part suspicion of their would-be allies, it had paid off: reaching down into their robes, they were relieved to find both tomes safe and sound, as they’d left them.

The camp was quiet and empty, apart from Cap’n, the inert remains of their campfire, and an undulating octarine portal floating off to the side. At Cap’s feet was a note, scrawled in sloppy handwriting.

“You spent a lot of time writing last night, so we decided to let you sleep. Out with Dan hunting for food in woods thru portal. - Lizwiz”

Well, that explained where everyone went. Certainly not ideal circumstances. Dan may have already made his move on Liz by now. The truth of the phrase ‘you snooze, you lose’ rang loud for Cap’n. They gathered themself and their things, summoning Gannon from his magical prison, and stepped through the portal. They could only hope they weren’t too late.

Cap’s stomach dropped as they passed through the portal, but really started doing some acrobatics when they reached the other side, immediately plummeting downwards. A few feet later, Cap’n landed squarely on their rear. Liz must have opened the portal slightly too high above the ground. Rather than make a judgmental quip, Gannon merely smirked, showing off his sharp teeth.

After righting themself, Cap’n examined their surroundings. They were standing on some kind of wooden boardwalk, linking together a multitude of trees in a grand airborne walkway several storeys above the forest floor. Visible in the distance, at the end of the path, was a wooden ladder extending down to the ground. They must be up ahead, Cap’n thought.

Descending to the bottom of the tree bearing the ladder, Cap’n found themself in a forest of very tall, very wide trees, mostly fir and pine, located on rocky, mountainous terrain. The air smelled of pine needles and spring water. Extending away from the ladder were a set of tracks that must have belonged to Liz and Dan.

“Alright, Gannon. Here’s the plan. We follow these tracks until we reach Liz and/or Dan. Then, one way or another, we gotta separate Liz from Dan. Once that’s done, we turn Liz against Dan and take him down together.”

“A SIMPLE SCHEME. BUT WHAT DO YOU PLAN TO DO SHOULD YOUR FEEBLE PLANS CRUMBLE?”

“No shortage of points of failure, true. Dan might already be off somewhere, Liz might not buy our argument for turning on Dan, and we could lose the fight with him. And, of course, all that is assuming we actually succeed in tracking them down. I concede that the circumstances are less than ideal. Shoulda stayed up instead of sleeping.”

“WELL, NO MATTER. IT IS SATISFYING ENOUGH TO KNOW I WILL GET TO CRUSH SOMEONE TODAY.”

“Good, that’s the enthusiasm I wanna see out there. Let’s roll.”

Cap’n had been careful to note down the tread pattern on both Liz’s and Dan’s boots in their sketchbook, so it was an easy task to differentiate between the two sets of bootprints extending into the woods. Following the trail was made more difficult by patches of bare rock, bereft of prints, but their past presence was revealed in the disturbance of branches and fallen needles.

At length, Cap’n arrived at what must have been a temporary camp set up by Dan and Liz. Rather bare-bones and empty, the two were nowhere to be found, but more tracks extended further up the mountain, while another set went off into the woods somewhere. The former seemed to belong to Liz.

Well, that’s convenient, thought Cap’n. This made things much easier, having the two separated of their own volition. Cap’n couldn’t help but wonder where Dan was, though. If he was even half as savvy as Cap’n assumed he was, he’d probably be skulking around somewhere in the shadows, perhaps even observing Cap’n at this very moment, ready to spring a trap when they reached Liz.

Cap’n thought hard. Such an outcome was clearly unacceptable, but how would they counter it…

They rubbed their lower jaw in deep thought before digging into their inventory. Rummaging around in the junk, Cap’n produced a roll of duct tape. Two more minutes of searching, and Cap’n produced some kind of green, spherical child’s toy of some sort, made of a thick plastic and around a foot and a half wide, along with a small remote control.

They placed these on the ground before slotting in batteries to both the toy and the associated remote. “This is gonna be so dumb.”

Cap’n flipped a switch and pressed a few buttons on the remote. The surface of the sphere, made up of multiple interlocking sections that hinged around two circular pivots on the sides of the sphere, flipped outwards, turning the left and right halves of the sphere inside out to reveal an inner core with an angry face printed on it. Freed from the inner part of the ball, a segmented tail flipped out to act as a support. Testing the remote, the inverted sections of the sphere now acted as wheels, rotating the whole assembly left and right. “So glad I kept this.”

“WHAT IN THE NAME OF DARKNESS IS THAT DEVICE?”

“This, my curious friend, is the Shell Shocker, by Tyco RC, subsidiary of Mattel. Marketed as an all-terrain, adaptable radio-controlled toy for children, it’s mostly water-resistant, and depending on the orientation of those flaps on the side, it can climb up slopes and tough terrain. Observe.”

Gannon watched as the sections of the wheel-like portion of the Shell Shocker rotated part of the way back to the sphere, transforming the smooth edge of the pseudo-wheel into a more serrated configuration. Cap’n then handily piloted the thing up a mossy hill, tossing hunks of moss into the air as it went.”Pretty cool, huh? Nabbed this thing ages ago, it’s pretty fun to play with. More important, though, is what we’re gonna use it for.”

Cap’n dropped the remote and brandished both the Book of Koridai and the roll of duct tape. With all the finesse of a gorilla in a library, Cap’n affixed the book to the Shell Shocker’s inner core.

They then retrieved the remote from the ground and pressed it into Gannon’s gnarled hands.

“You, sir, have a mission. You are to follow the tracks left behind by Dan, which extend roughly in,” at this, Cap’n pointed, “that direction. Once you reach him, you are to remain in the shadows and distract him from a distance. How you accomplish that, I will leave to your discretion, but it is of the utmost importance that you are not caught. I’ve yet to confirm this, but based on my understanding, if he catches you, it would be very bad.”

“AFRAID HE WILL USURP YOUR POSITION AS MY LORD AND MASTER?”

“No, I mean it’d be very bad for you. You shouldn’t interrupt me, ya know. I was* going* to say that he eats magical artifacts!”

Gannon’s expression changed subtly. “I THINK I UNDERSTAND YOUR MEANING. I SHALL REMAIN UNDETECTED, AND HARRY THIS ‘DANIEL’ WHELP FROM THE SHADOWS.”

“Good. If your book got ate and I lost you it’d be pretty problematic for me.”

Gannon sniffed in disgust. “SO, IT FALLS TO ME TO… COWER OUT OF SIGHT, CAST PETTY MAGICKS, AND… LOCOMOTE USING A CHILDREN’S TOY? YOU COULD SIMPLY FREE ME FROM THIS TOME AND ORDER ME TO SMITE DANIEL WITH MY AWESOME POWER, AND THE MATTER WOULD BE SWIFTLY CONCLUDED.”

“Gannon, buddy, pal, my chum, you should know by now I’m not that stupid. There’s no way for you to reach Dan without being let out of that book, and I know for a fact the moment that happens you’re gonna turn me into a pile of ash or a chimera or something stupid like that and fly away to conquer the realms, or whatever. Naturally, my genius presented a solution: make it so you can move the book. Now, I ask you, what is your mission?”

Cap’s patronizing tone flowed over Gannon like the smell of rotten meat. His jowls raised as he grit his teeth. “MY MISSION, AS YOU DESCRIBED IT TO ME, IS TO PILOT THIS HUMILIATING VEHICLE, FOLLOWING THE ORANGE FOOL’S TRAIL. WHEN I REACH HIM, I AM TO HIDE MYSELF, AND, RATHER THAN SMITE HIM OUTRIGHT, I AM TO… DISTRACT HIM HOWEVER I SEE FIT. THIS WILL GIVE YOU TIME TO DEAL WITH THE MAGE, I PRESUME?”

“Bingo-bango. You hit it on the head. When that’s done, I’ll give a signal. Watch the skies. When you see it, head back to this spot and we’ll rendezvous. If anything goes majorly wrong, send me a signal.”

“YES, MY MASTER.” Gannon took up the remote control, examining it dubiously for a moment, before figuring out the controls. The Shell Shocker, book in tow, rolled away at a blistering speed of 2 miles per hour, with Gannon trailing along behind.

As Gannon disappeared into the woods, Cap’n mumbled under their breath. “Can’t believe I didn’t think of that trick sooner.”

Cap’n didn’t like the idea of parting with their tomes for any length of time, but they knew Gannon was competent enough that he’d succeed in his mission, one way or the other. Maybe the Gannon they knew when they first met would have failed, but life in NLACakaNM had made them both hardier and more savvy. As long as Gannon followed Cap’s instructions – and he was magically bound to do so – he’d be alright.

Cap’n turned to the mountain ahead. It was time to get to work.

---

It had taken a bit of hiking to reach the cliff on which Cap’n now stood. Behind them was a stand of trees, listing slightly at an angle due to age. Ahead of them: the open sky and a vista of rocky country below. Slightly less ahead was none other than Lizwiz, sitting comfortably on the cliff’s edge drawing something in her spellbook.

Cap’n approached casually. “Hiya, Liz!”

Liz turned around and smiled in surprise, the sunlight glinting off her silvery hair and dark sunglasses. “Oh, hey Cap, you made it! Er, sorry about the portal positioning, heh heh! It always ends up just a little too high off the ground…”

“Hey, no problem. Listen, though. I gotta tell you something important.”

Liz raised an eyebrow. “Oh, what’s up?” She spun around and sat cross-legged pointing towards Cap’n before stowing the book in her jacket.

“Dan is gonna betray us.”

Liz looked surprised. “What makes you think so? He seems so chill.”

Cap’n started their mind racing before realizing that a long form, rational argument might not stick the landing for Liz. They pulled out their notes and opened the book to the pages on Dan, aiming them Liz-ward. They were dense, hard to read, rather esoteric and jumped back and forth non-linearly between points. “I ran the numbers,” Cap’n said simply.

Behind her sunglasses, Liz’s eyes crossed as she attempted to decipher the wall of text before her. She shook her head. “I’ll just take your word for it. So, what do we do?”

“We get him before he gets us. I’ve got him pinned down with a diversion right now, so we have some time to prepare. You got your spellbook, right?”

Liz tapped the book wedged in her coat pocket, grinning. “Always. Why, need me to cook something up?”

Cap’n nodded. “Whatever you got, Liz. Trap runes, pre-cooked magic blasts, general purpose combat spells, defensive buffs… the works. I get the feeling Dan won’t go down easy. Whatever you do, though, keep a tight grip on that book until the fight is over. My calculations suggest that Dan really wants to take it from you, and that-”

Liz cut Cap’n off with an uncharacteristically stern tone. “Over my dead body.”

Cap’n halted for a moment before continuing. “That’s the spirit I’m looking for. I’m not sure what would happen if he got his hands on your book, but I can’t imagine it being good. Remember that whole relic hunting biz from ages back?”

“Let me think…” Liz tilted her head in thought for a moment before Cap’s meaning dawned on her. “No… he wants to eat my spellbook??”

“Very likely yes.”

Liz nodded her head with determination. “Right, let’s go kick his butt.”

“Lets.” Cap’n gave a skeletal grin. “First, though, I gotta send a signal to my minion.”

Cap’n rummaged around in their inventory for a solid minute, until they retrieved a dusty roman candle, slightly past its expiry date, and some matches. Affixing the discount firework into the dusty earth, they struck a match on the rough surface of their skull and lit the fuse.

Brilliant, burning stars flew out of the tube of the roman candle with a whistle, one after another. That should be sufficient, Cap’n thought.

From there, the trip down the mountain slope was a lot quicker than the trip up. The two arrived at the makeshift camp without incident, and shortly after, the shell shocker emerged from the underbrush, trailing Gannon’s misty form behind.

“Good, you came back in one piece. How’d your mission go?”

Gannon replied gruffly. “THE ORANGE FOOL WAS HARD TO DECEIVE WITH MERE SMOKE AND MIRRORS, SO I ELECTED TO MAIM HIM AND WASTE HIS TIME. EVEN NOW, HE REMAINS DISTRACTED BY MY MONSTROUS THRALLS.”

“Thralls? Elaborate.”

“I BENT THIS FOREST TO MY WILL, IMBUING A STAND OF TREES WITH MY DARK POWER BEFORE COMMANDING THEM TO ATTACK THE MAN IN ORANGE. HE FIGHTS VALIANTLY, BUT THEIR WOODEN FLESH REPELS HIS ATTACKS.”

“Well, I suppose that’s good, that buys us a bit more wiggle room.” Cap’n rubbed their chin, deep in thought.

Liz spoke up, filling the gap of temporary silence. “So, this is that minion you were mentioning? The guy in the book you agreed to keep stowed away during our truce before we linked up proper-style?”

“Huh? Oh, yeah, that’s him. Calls himself ‘Gannon, Prince of Darkness’, but mostly he’s my minion, stuck like glue to that book and bound by slimeoid instinct to follow my every command. It’s a whole thing.”

“Neat. Well, it’s nice to meet you!” said Liz, smiling and waving politely.

Gannon merely glared at Liz, with an expression that might have indicated disgust. It was hard to tell, he had the worst case of resting bitch face in the known multiverse on account of looking super uggo at all times of the day and night, just a real horror show.

“Alright, here’s what we’re gonna do. We’re gonna take the offensive on this one. Working together, taking down Dan should be a cinch. He’s armed, so it’d pay to have some shields between us and his bullets. That’s where your thralls will come in, Gannon. A couple spare ones should keep us safe from gunfire, while we take the time to move in and bring the pain. I presume Liz will be at a distance, casting and shooting, while I’ll do hit-and-run tactics with my big dumb flaming sword. Any objections?”

Liz looked back and forth between Cap’n and Gannon, who were both silent. She shrugged her shoulders and said “Seems like a sound plan to me. I do gotta warn you, though – my magic kinda doesn’t discriminate between friend and foe.”

“That’s cool, just make sure to signal us before you do anything with a blast radius.”

Liz pointed finger guns Cap’n-ward. “You got it!”

“Sweet. Let’s roll.”

~~~~~

Following the staccato report of gunfire as it diminished in frequency, Lizwiz and Cap’n, with Book of Koridai in tow trailing Gannon behind, moved swiftly through the rocky woods towards the site of Dan’s skirmish. Here and there, Cap’n spotted the tracks of the shell shocker as it passed along during Gannon’s trip, making imprints in mud and trampling tufts of grass as it went.

At length, the gunfire slowed and stopped. As they came closer to its source, broken branches could be seen strewn along the trail of destruction, until they came to a pair of fallen logs. They seemed normal in most respects, apart from the grimacing visage hewn into the living wood on their trunks. Their roots extended from their undersides like crude legs, now inert and limp.

“So much for your thralls.”

“HAD YOU GRANTED ME MORE FREEDOM TO ACT, I WOULD HAVE CRUSHED THE FOOL.”

“Oh, hush, you.” Cap’n replied dismissively.

Further up the path were a handful more of the once-animate trees that must have harried Dan until just moments ago. They laid lifeless on the forest floor, among the dirt and sun-dried pine needles. Some were leaking sap through various splintered bullet holes.

It struck Cap’n that this was perhaps not the most opportune moment to face off against Dan. He’d clearly had little trouble dispatching the solid wooden minions Gannon had sent against him, which didn’t bode well for the upcoming battle. If the three of them cut loose, they’d probably still be able to overwhelm him, but the matter of actually initiating the battle was still up in the air. Cap’n didn’t feel like the element of surprise was going to be a significant factor to their advantage. If anything, Dan probably had already put together that Cap was making their move. That opened the door to the possibility that Dan might try and sway Liz over to his side with his silver tongue, reversing the situation. It hadn’t been hard for Cap’n to convince Liz to join them, after all. Why would it be any more difficult for Dan?

Cap’n supposed all that didn’t matter at this point. Since waking up this morning, they’d felt Dan’s schemes forcing their hands. They were more or less locked in to this course of action, now. All they could do was follow through, and hope that if things went sour that they could escape safely, and preferably not empty-handed.

Suddenly, the group stepped into a clearing, at the center of which stood a man in orange, his back turned to them.

He spoke in a theatrical tone. “Well, my, my. You guys sure took your time getting here! Missed the party…”

Dan turned to face the group. In his hands were a pair of pistols, polished and engraved. “Ahhh, but that’s okay! You know me, I’m a forgiving guy. Water under the bridge. Allll I wanna know is, which one of you goobers set this up?”

Liz looked a little antsy for a moment before pointing at Cap’n.

Cap’n feigned a hurt expression. “Now, why ya gotta do me like that, Liz?”

“Well, I mean, it is true.” said Liz, kicking a pebble on the ground. “Momma didn’t raise no liar.”

Cap’n shrugged. “Well, it’s true. I put ol’ Gannon here to the task of harassing you. I’d like to say it was all part of an elaborate prank, but I know that you know that’s a load of BS. You’ve been planning to double-cross us from the start, and we’re here to make sure you pay for it early.”

“Ah! Cap’n, you hurt me. To think you trusted me so little…” Dan continued, but Cap’n had largely tuned them out. Their mind was racing, trying to come up with a strategy for the imminent fight. Provoking Dan into monologueing had been a good move, it bought a little more time, though the more Dan spoke, the more the risk of Liz becoming a turncoat increased. Suddenly, a few thoughts fit into place.

Cap’n reached into their jacket and whipped the makeshift sidearm towards Dan, while he was in the middle of a sentence. It flew through the air like a tomahawk, and as it impacted Dan’s left leg, the trigger went off, causing the entire assembly to violently explode into a dozen pieces.

*I knew it!!! It was a bomb all along!!! *thought Cap’n.

Taking advantage of the moment of confusion, Cap’n barked a command at Gannon. “Veil of Darkness!”

Gannon’s clawed hands glowed with an unearthly light, and a black sphere coalesced around Dan, who was spitting and sputtering after being blasted with a mess of gunpowder and machine parts. The dark orb blackened more and more, until it was completely opaque, at which point it quickly reverted to being semi-transparent again.

From the outside, it seemed as if Dan was surrounded by a radius of thin black mist, whose outside border was hard-edged, like some cosmic artist had used a low-opacity pencil tool on him. The sphere was centered on Dan’s core, and followed him as he moved.

Dan coughed. “Oh, what the fuck is this, now??”

Gannon spoke up. “YOU ARE NOW TRAPPED IN MY ZONE OF DARKNESS. THE LIGHT OF DAY IS LOST TO YOU, NOW!”

Gannon spoke true. The view from inside the sphere was blacker than an inactive TV screen. Dan couldn’t even see his own hands in front of his face.

“Now he’s vulnerable!! Get his ass!!!” shouted Cap’n, pointing a finger Dan-ward.

Liz spoke up. “Sorry Dan, you know how it is! Besides, I’ve been dying to try out this new spell I came up with!” At the same time, Gannon was firing up a spell as magical energy crackled around his finger tips. Liz began to chant, book in hand.

“Oh, fire shrouded in smoke, frenzied blaze in darkest cloak, in the name of destruction, let the collapse of mine enemy manifest. Summon before me the root of thy power hidden within the lands of the kingdom of chemistry! EXPLOSION!”

Just as she finished her chant, Gannon loosed his spellwork, wreathed in fire and lightning. The entire clearing shook as a massive explosion manifested from a glowing sigil summoned by Liz’s spell, at the same moment as Gannon’s attack impacted its target. The shockwave smashed into Cap’n and Gannon, sending them head over heels into a nearby shrubbery. Liz alone remained standing, cackling with insane laughter as the flames singed her silver hair.

Dimly, as Cap’n collected themself, they thought That’s gonna be another forest fire for sure.

As the smoke cleared, the three fighters surveyed the scene. The clearing had been reduced to a smouldering crater, surrounded now by the last remaining trees that hadn’t been completely blown apart by the shockwave, wreathed in flame. The air smelled of burning pine needles, but Dan was absent.

The trio looked around for as long as they could, but the fire was spreading fast. They found no trace of Dan the orange man, and elected to leave the scene before getting toasted by a forest fire, secure in the idea that Dan had probably been incinerated instantly. Probably.

Had any of them been looking up at the time of the blast, they might have spotted Dan’s unconscious body careening through the sky away from the explosion, before landing gracefully onto a treetop, the force of impact and body weight bending, bending, and bending the trunk until his fall slowed to a crawl, before it snapped a few feet off the ground, gently depositing him into a large puddle. Gannon’s veil of darkness dissipated shortly after, and Dan was able to walk away from the altercation with only minor head trauma and superficial burns.

---

A hot wind blows across the dunes and through the cacti and stunted trees as Cap’n trudges along under the scorching rays of the sun. Desert lay before them in all directions, as far as the eye could see. All directions, save one. In the far distance could be seen a complex of rolling, grassy hills, and the hard-edged dividing line between the two biomes, separated by a paved strip. If Cap’n continued on their heading across the sandsea, they’d arrive there soon. The going was slow, and Cap’n felt as if each step took them neither forwards nor backwards, remaining ever in the same place.

It had been quite some time since their encounter with Dan in the woods. The smoke from the fires mercifully lessened the heat of the sun beating down on them, giving them a bit of respite from the desert’s oppressive atmosphere.

Liz hadn’t been difficult to fool after that whole debacle. Under the pretense of taking a short breather after the fight, they’d led Liz back to the cliffside where they’d found her. Feigning a deep interest in something below, they’d beckoned her to see, before firmly grasping the magical tome in her jacket pocket and shoving her roughly into the void beyond the cliff. Cap’n hadn’t seen Liz since then.

The disorganized collection of sigils, notes, and excerpts now hung on a bit of cord within their robes. Cap’n patted it with more than a little satisfaction. Sure, they’d felt a bit of regret in having betrayed their good friend after she’d been so trusting, but the book had proven to be exactly what Cap’n had hoped for: a passkey to all the secrets of magick.

Almost painfully practical in nature, it laid out, in straightforward terms, the steps required to produce tangible magickal results for a wide variety of spells, and filled in the gaps of Cap’s expertise in occult theory. Applying their expertise and scholarship, they’d turned the eclectic scrapbook of hedge-witchery and eldritch spellwork into the premier magickal tome of their generation. It was practically a whole new magical artifact at this point, on par with the Necronomicon or the Enchiridion. With this book in hand, even laypeople could gain a solid grasp of magical principles sufficient to cast a few spells, though a scholar of occult theory was best poised to make full use of its power.

Even before that, though, the thing had proven quite potent. Liz had been carrying some pretty hefty spells in there, some of which would have proven rather catastrophic for life on Earth had they ever been cast. The notes in the margins implied a madness that Liz had kept well under wraps during their short-lived alliance, and there were more than a few uncensored hazardous sigils that almost got Cap’n cursed for life within the pages.

Suffice it to say, it had been no easy task to reign in the book’s sharper edges. With that done, Cap’n was able to harness the full potential of the magic within, lessening their need to rely exclusively on Gannon for any magical needs. He had been stowed in the Book of Koridai since the beginning of Cap’s long march across this desert, consigned to his prison for excessive displays of attitude.

It hadn’t been all lucky breaks for Cap’n, though. Not long after obtaining the book, they’d had the misfortune of encountering Olive prematurely. She had her eyes on the prize, and began a long pursuit of Cap’n through multiple biomes, from ghost towns to rainforests to cave systems, and ultimately culminating in a showdown in a massive field of tall grass, under a gathering storm.

She’d made the mistake of giving Cap’n enough time to fully profile her, however. By the time the two combatants faced off against each other, Cap’n had already formulated a plan of attack. Utilizing the full extent of their power, Cap’n and Gannon focused on hit-and-run tactics, harassing Olive while evading her attacks. No simple task, given her ingenious application of an extradimensional mineral to enhance her combat abilities. It was precisely this mineral which Cap’n hoped to obtain by defeating her in battle, but the going was tough, and they sustained more than a few injuries over the course of the fight. Liberal application of healing magic stymied the worst of them, but it was a battle hard-fought, and the two fighters seemed evenly matched.

Applying more pressure, Cap’n hoped to force Olive’s hand in a particular way. They got their wish, but with interest. Cap’s sources suggested that Olive had access to the much sought-after Toon Force, that metaphysical phenomenon utilized by clowns and their ilk to defy physics, and that she would apply it in battle when pressed to her limit.

Apply it she did, but not before entering an unforeseen berserker rage that Cap’n hadn’t accounted for. She nearly turned the tide of the battle with that stunt, almost taking Gannon out of the fight entirely.

Still, Cap’n was able to put their plan into motion. Brandishing a prepared alchemical solution known to clown-hunters and anti-toon factions as “The Dip”, Cap’n doused Olive while she was shaking off one of Cap’s attacks, maiming her considerably and giving Gannon the opportunity to deal the finishing blow with a spell that separated her life essence from her body. They now carried it, manifested as a glowing ethereal flame, in a Mason jar hastily engraved with a magical seal. It served well as a lantern in dark areas, and as a magical catalyst for certain spells.

Before leaving the scene of the destructive battle, now ablaze due to the worsening lightning storm that grew above them as they fought, Cap’n was careful to retrieve the glowing hunks of Chatoyanite from Olive’s lifeless body before it completely dissociated into its constituent slime.

Each had been polished to a mirror sheen, and varied considerably in size and shape. There was one for every color of the rainbow, and each color had its own associated shape. Cap’s notes explained that each color variety crystallized into a specific shape. Red were octahedral, - bringing to mind a certain Angel from Evangelion – and radiated heat from within. Orange were semi-spherical, and seemed twitchy in Cap’s palm, wanting to twist from side to side. Yellow were ring-shaped, and glowed with an inner light. Green and teal behaved like liquids, being malleable and gel-like. The former seemed to buzz with an energy like static electricity, while the latter had an analgesic effect and closed the scratches and cuts Cap’n had accumulated in their palm. Cap’n had almost lost a few pieces of spherical blue Chatoyanite, which seemed to resist gravity’s pull and float upwards. Cap’n hadn’t divined the properties of the cylindrical purple Chatoyanite, but their notes suggested it influenced spacetime in some esoteric way.

The final type Olive was carrying, of which there was only a single specimen, seemed to have no color at all at some angles, shine with a rainbow glow at others, and reflect an unnameable color at still others. It wasn’t octarine, but something else. Cap’s notes named it “Heliotrope”. Its shape evoked a polygonal gem out of an old Playstation game, specifically Croc: Legend of the Gobbos. Its properties were unknown, but it was said to have some kind of extradimensional effect. This one, Cap’n carefully stowed deep within their inventory.

Also procured from Olive were a set of Chatoyanite-imbued weapons, which employed studs of orange Chatoyanite to multiply impact forces. She carried a studded baseball bat, well-worn, and a chainsaw with teeth augmented with the orange Chatoyanite. Cap’n !sidearmed the chainsaw, and stowed the bat for safekeeping.

They would have spent more time analyzing these new minerals if not for the rising flames. Having left the scene in haste, they hadn’t paid very much attention to their heading, which they were now paying for with an unintentional desert vacation.

Cap’n looked up from the sandy ground. Their destination was still on the horizon, as far as it had seemed minutes ago. This desert march was wearing down on Cap’s patience. They looked up. The sun shone down with a baleful red glow, obscured by the smoke of the growing number of wildfires Cap’n had produced in their wake.

I sure have caused a lot of wildfires throughout this thing, haven’t I? Cap’n thought. Maybe I oughta try and minimize that going forward… **Man, Smokey the Bear would fuckin HATE me…

Cap’n was tempted to kludge together a polymorph spell just to speed up the journey across this wasteland, but the spectre of the sunk cost fallacy whispered into their ear to keep walking. And walk they did, for what seemed like a long time, until suddenly the hills beyond weren’t on the horizon anymore. Now they were immediate and present. Cap’n had crossed the desert, but they were too tuckered out to celebrate. Instead, they made camp on the cool grass, pitching a small tent and taking what felt like the longest afternoon nap of their life. They’d set to the task of engineering uses for the Chatoyanite and picking a new destination after waking up.

---

It was truly a wonder what a bit of sleep could do to rejuvenate the mind. Cap’n, refreshed after their nap, set to work on their next bout of strategizing, analysis, and theorycrafting under the light of the full moon.

Using Olive’s life force as an impromptu desk lamp, Cap’n set up their work station, laying out the Bestiary, freshly fed with a stale bag of Doritos, next to the spellbook and the Book of Koridai, along with all of their writing tools and some Chatoyanite fragments.

Cap’n considered summoning Gannon to fill the silence of the evening, but decided against it. He could do to stew for a bit longer in his prison, Cap’n thought.

The first order of business was examining the Chatoyanite in greater detail. Cap’s sources suggested that the minerals before them had their origins in another universe entirely, and behaved under different physics. This at least appeared to be the case, given the manoeuvres Olive had managed to pull off with them. She’d made special use of red Chatoyanite in particular, summoning explosive bursts of heat and flame seemingly apropos of nothing by channelling its power.

How exactly she’d accomplished this was less clear. Holding a low-grade piece of red chatoyance in their hand, Cap’n flicked their arm outwards, attempting to coax out a response. They felt the crystal in their hand heat up a little, but not much else. The rock seemed to be responding, but not nearly enough. A higher grade piece, then. The sharp , polished points of the larger crystal dug into Cap’s palm as they repeated the experiment. The response was identical.

Kinetic energy wasn’t quite enough to coax out the heat within, then. Perhaps there was another factor at play. This time, Cap’n held the crystal while focusing their intent. This prompted a similar response in the Chatoyanite, but once again, it was weak and short-lived.

Combining both approaches proved to be more effective, resulting in a flash of light from the scarlet crystal and a short-lived fan of sparks. However, it suggested that this approach would require practice and skill which Cap’n had neither the time nor patience to foster. They’d have to find another way to manifest the power of the crystals.

The solution came via the spellbook. Flipping through its pages, Cap’n landed on a section about crystal resonance. The theory wasn’t reeally applicable in the case of Chatoyanite, but the idea of trying to induce some kind of resonance in the crystal seemed sound.

Flipping hastily to a chapter dedicated to vibrational magicks, Cap’n prepared another experiment. Setting the Chatoyanite on the grass, they stepped back several feet and uttered a throaty incantation, projecting a spectrum of vibrational force at the crystal. As the frequency increased, the crystal seemed to react more, glowing brighter until it began to indiscriminately sputter and spray like a firework at a particular frequency sweet spot, declining in activity as the vibrations sped up past that point.

They could be agitated with magick, then. Stowing the lower grade crystal, they held the finer quality Chatoyanite, and, focusing their intent, flung out their arm once more, simultaneously directing magical resonance at the key frequency, this time while turning up the amplitude.

The resulting explosion roared, reflecting off of the surrounding hills and off into the night sky with considerable force and blowing Cap’s robes back with a gust of hot wind. Cap’n sputtered, and counted themself lucky that they’d set paperweights onto their notes.

So, directed intent and kinetic energy combined with magically-induced resonance would draw out the power of the crystals quite nicely. Applying similar principles to the other flavors of chatoyance yielded similar results, though each type had a different frequency range it responded most to, and differing degrees of directed intent and kinetic energy required, relative to their special properties. Orange was by far the simplest, responding to practically any application of force and multiplying it, flying in the face of Newton’s laws of motion. It was rivalled in simplicity only by blue, which seemed to exhibit its properties with no stimulus at all, naturally opposing any forces applied to it, including gravity.

Given proper application of runic artifice and magical circuitry, Cap’n would probably be able to put together some crude devices that utilized chatoyance, though how effective they might be was anyone’s guess. Cap’n thought absently that this flavor of magitechnological kludging was probably not the way the denizens of the hypothetical alternate universe from which the crystals originated would have put together Chatoyanite-based devices. If only they had access to more data on the subject…

The thought of utilizing what little purple and heliotrope Chatoyanite they had on hand to jaunt over and procure said data crossed Cap’s mind, but they quickly rejected it. For one, the alleged properties of those colors vastly increased the risk involved in their use, given the consequences of activating their properties improperly. On top of that, Cap’n imagined that, in the event of their success, going so far out of the bounds of the arena might be grounds for disqualification.

Still, the purple might at the very least come in handy, if only they could figure out how to use it safely without borking spacetime up too much. They decided to put a pin in that for now, and consider other matters.

Carefully stowing the Chatoyanite in their inventory, one by one, they turned their attention to their strategic notes. The question of where to go next and what to do was a pressing matter on their agenda. It was likely many of the other contenders had bit the dust by now, and a quick tarot reading confirmed this, suggesting that, besides Liz and Olive, Mosh, as well as Heavy’s representative, had both been knocked out of the game. Cap’n silently congratulated themself on obtaining the spellbook once again, this magic stuff was going to come in* real* handy.**

**The matter of highest importance for the moment was figuring out how Cap’n was going to take on the strongest contenders. By their assessment, Robo, GS, and the Solar Moths were at the top of the proverbial food chain, given their destructive capabilities. They thanked their lucky stars that neither of them had seen fit to ally with each other. Such a grouping would wipe the floor with most of the other contenders, if Cap’s calculations were anything to go by.

Cap’n already had a solid plan for dealing with Goldspin, and with more firepower in hand they were finally in a position to put it into action. Before that, though, Cap’n thought it’d be best to come up with an approach for Robo and Moth.

Moth was by far the most complicated fighter to take apart. With the ability to create new soldiers on the fly – no pun intended – and to remotely view other parts of the battlefield via the telepathic connection of the hivemind, she was a force to be reckoned with. Not only that, but the matter of the Mothcat hadn’t yet been resolved. In hindsight, it was clear that it had been following Cap’n unnoticed, or at least exhibited some foreknowledge about Cap’s location. They’d been careful to cover their tracks when travelling to the site of the battle between GS and Robo, so it wasn’t as if anyone would have known to look there for Cap’n.

Cap’n shook their head. It wouldn’t do to get bogged down this early into the strategy sesh. Refocusing, Cap’n hopped back on their previous train of thought. How to deal with Moth…

Well, the most obvious way to dispose of the husks between Cap’n and the hive mother would be the use of fire. Cap’s notes detailed various aspects of the internal composition of the moth species, and most seemed to incorporate large quantities of petroleum-based plastics and other crude petroleum products, most of which were flammable. This wasn’t a surefire solution, however. Cap’n knew from the Rider samples they’d collected that not all husk phenotypes had a weakness to fire. The fibrous material making up the body of the Black Rider, for example, was, in fact, resistant to flame.

Perhaps their diet could be exploited, then. Solar Moths fed themselves on photonic radiation, otherwise known to laypeople as “light”. Naturally, any husk of weak enough will would be lured by the glow of a lamp of sufficient brightness. This probably wouldn’t apply to the hive mother, though, and the telepathic commands issued by her would likely override any instinctual pull towards a light. Perhaps if Cap’n procured a really big light…

Cap’n thought back to their experimentation with Chatoyanite for a moment. They’d discovered that the light-producing yellow crystals actually did not emit any detectable radiation, instead expelling a diffuse field of the inner light within, which passed through and permeated the surrounding matter in varying degrees. If anything, “light” was a misnomer for what the yellow crystal produced. Cap’n wondered what, if any, effect this glow would have on Solar Moths, before returning from their tangent.

Another tangent quickly took its place, however. Visible light is merely one flavor on the full electromagnetic spectrum. If solar moths could feed on it, then there was nothing stopping them from feeding on other forms of radiation as well. That was an interesting thought. Cap’n supposed that microwave ovens would be like fun rides for husks…

Something about this line of thinking was tickling Cap’s funny bone something fierce. On a whim, they produced a radio receiver from their inventory. Tuning it to the lowest frequency band, they slowly turned the dial upward, inch by inch. They reached the end of the dial, but nothing except static came through. Hmm. Cap’n thought for a moment that, unlikely as it sounded, maybe the solar moths had some kind of radio communication ability. It seemed a reasonable assumption, if they were able to take in EM radiation, why wouldn’t they be able to put it out? The theory seemed to be bunk, though. Back and forth the dial went, all Cap’n could hear was the chaotic background white noise of meaningless static. How disappointing.

Back on track, now, Cap’n tallied more options. Perhaps Cap’s past research on the solar moth species would be key in dismantling the danger they posed. They carefully arrayed the relevant materials in front of them and took in the full extent.

A few points jumped out at them off the bat. The aforementioned flammability factor was one. Another was their internal composition, primarily of solid or semi-solid antislime and liquid slime. This fostered a natural preference for humid environments, particularly those found underground, as the moisture in the air prevents the slime from congealing or hardening overmuch. That was something Cap’n could work with. If they could engineer the situation such that the confrontation took place in, say, the desert behind them, or one of the frigid mountain peaks that fringed the edges of the battledome, then they might have the advantage. Come to think of it, the necrotic nature of their antislime carapaces would likely render them somewhat vulnerable to the anti-ghost coleslaw of NLACakaNM cuisine. Cap’n supposed they’d have to dig into their notes later for that coleslaw recipe they’d saved.

Cap’n made a note and kept looking. Another angle had to do with their hive-building behaviors. In the wild, solar moth husks collected various bits of flotsam and trash with which to build their hive, cementing them together into a semi-organic mass held together by anomalous fungal growth. The spores were highly hazardous, being quite toxic and virulent, and originated with the cellular makeup of solar moths, which is more akin to slime molds than standard multicellular life. It was possible this would render them vulnerable to various anti-fungal agents and antibiotics. Into Cap’s notes the theory went.

Beyond that, it was hard to say if they had any other major weaknesses. Cap’n supposed sarcastically that bug spray might come in handy, but upon closer inspection this assumption didn’t seem quite so farfetched. The nature of solar moths was decidedly insectoid, almost universally so. On top of that, their physical makeup incorporated a lot of plastics, and as far as Cap’n knew, deet-based bug spray and other insecticides had a habit of melting through plastic if it was exposed to sufficient concentrations for a long enough period. Cap’n supposed it was also an option to try and enchant some weapon or other with their magicks to be especially effective against insectoid life, Minecraft style.

Cap’n looked at the spread of documents and papers and decided that would have to do for now on the topic of anti-Moth measures. The failure to discover anything in the area of radio signals bugged them a bit, but it seemed to them that they’d come up with a good spread of ideas. If they could only combine them together properly, they’d probably be able to pull through long enough to get past the husks she’d assuredly installed as bodyguards and reach the hive mother herself, at which point they’d have to make the best use possible of the opportunity for a one-on-one fight.

Ideally, though, Cap’n would put off such an encounter until the last possible moment. Even if they came up with a plan and executed it perfectly, there was no way they’d be able to survive an altercation with her. She was too strong, Cap’n knew that for certain. The best case scenario would be one in which they could exploit other contenders into softening her up or distracting her. For now, Cap’n would reign in the scope of their focus.

They were just about to move on and work on a plan to deal with Robo, but the sudden sensation of being watched made them freeze in place.

They looked up from their notes. Up at the top of a hill ahead, mere feet away from Cap’s spot on the grass, was a small, feline creature, with antennae and watchful, hungry wings.

The footage from Cap’s hidden cameras didn’t do it justice. Up close, the creature was almost invisible, its silhouette blending seamlessly with the night sky behind it, visible only by its monochrome white eyes and wing markings, which almost seemed to glow with an unearthly light.

Whatever this thing was, it was decidedly not a cat. This was something else, wearing the skin of a cat. It stood perfectly still, regarding Cap’n with an implacable expression. It neither blinked, nor breathed. Its gaze unwavering, the cat’s eyes stared in tandem with the massive eye markings on its forewings at Cap’n Metalhead. The mouth-like markings on its hindwings were likewise completely still, but if one stared long enough into their gaping maws they would see a thin, ethereal fluid dribbling off of the pearly white fangs.

All at once, a whispering voice seemed to permeate Cap’s entire body as the Mothcat spoke into their mind. “We’ve been watching you for some time now.”

Chills ran down Cap’s spine as the atmosphere of the area changed. For a moment, Cap’n thought they could see their own breath as they exhaled, but it must have been their imagination. Still, the air felt colder than before.

They ventured a response. “I suppose I should have seen this coming. You did give me a pretty big warning in my camera footage.”

The cat raised a paw and licked it performatively. The gesture was a mockery, both of Cap’n and of the feline form. “We suppose we did, didn’t we? But it seems you were too distracted with your own petty affairs to put it together. Unfortunate.”

“Quite.” Cap’n choked out nervously. Catching their breath, they continued. “So, to what do I owe the pleasure of seeing you?”

The whispers in Cap’s mind grew louder and more incoherent for a moment, filling their thoughts like a chorus of cicadas. Was this the creature’s equivalent to amused laughter? “You flatter us, Captain. To reward you for your patience and affability, we will get straight to the point. One of our vessels has gone rogue, and I want you to help us deal with the problem.”

Cap’n raised their brow. “What did you have in mind?”

The cat’s eyes narrowed, while its forewings leered over its shoulders. “We should illuminate the situation with context. You see, we recently put together a new type of vessel. You should be familiar with it by now, you’re carrying a few fragments of it. Its purpose is to break Goldspin, and thus, we have named it ‘Goldbreaker’.”

The Mothcat’s tail swished back and forth as it continued, its words reverberating inside Cap’s mind like bells in a clock tower. “The design was… imperfect, but nonetheless effective. The vessel was on track to complete its mission, but complications arose. We were forced to grant it a good measure more free will than we had initially planned…”

The creature’s paws idly extended and retracted their claws, which shone like tiny daggers. “When our will returned to take control of the Goldbreaker, it rejected us. It has since lost sight of its mission. During our absence it learned the wrong lessons, and now wastes its energy on frivolous concepts of ‘honorable battle’. We need to nip this in the bud. You have discovered a critical weakness in Goldspin, correct?”

Cap’n gulped. “For a given definition of the term, yes.”

The Mothcat’s wings bristled. “You will tell us this weakness, and in return we shall allow you several days of freedom before our hive embraces you into its ranks.”

Quite the ultimatum. Its commanding aura brokered no argument or negotiation. Dimly, Cap’n wished that they still had Dan as an ally, his capacity for speechcraft would have come in real handy right about now.

Cap’n exhaled for a long moment, and spoke. “My plan, such as it is, is to utilize Aqua Regia in order to defuse Goldspin’s defensive and offensive potential before finishing him off with extreme heat, likely source from intensive exposure to lightning produced via magic.”

The cat didn’t seem impressed. “Elaborate.”

Cap’n halted uncertainly before continuing. “Uhh, well, Goldspin’s armor is made primarily from an alloy of gold, anomalous though it be. Ancient alchemists have held for centuries that a combination of sal ammoniac – AKA ammonium chloride – and aqua fortis – AKA saltpetre and vitriol, which is just a fancy name for metal sulfates – creates an acid they named Aqua Regia, or ‘royal water’, so named for its singular ability to dissolve gold, an otherwise unreactive element. Today, Aqua Regia is typically produced by combining one part nitric acid with three parts hydrochloric acid.” In their stride now, Cap’n sat up straighter and spoke with more confidence. “I believe that the application of a sufficient concentration of Aqua Regia should dissolve and/or weaken any golden components GS might be made of, including but not limited to their armor. The remaining metal components within should melt under sufficient heat, and lightning seemed the best way to apply that heat in a short period of time. Is that a satisfying explanation?”

The creature’s wings twitched. “We suppose it will have to do. We honestly expected more from you, but this will be sufficient for now.” The cat’s eyes regarded Cap’n with derision. “Your underwhelming performance has been noted, and your future rank in the hive has been demoted. When next we meet, your days as a free skeleton will be at an end.”

The Mothcat then slowly turned, and sauntered leisurely over the hill and out of sight. Their wings watched Cap’n hungrily until they completely passed out of view.

The oppressive atmosphere that choked the small camp lifted like the lid of a casket, and Cap’n clutched their chest, breathing heavily. After catching their breath, they scrambled over to the hill where the Mothcat had stood moments ago. Standing on top, they could find no trace that it had ever been there. Not a single disturbed blade of grass, nor any tracks to speak of. It had simply vanished.

This was going to be a problem.

---

Cap’n had explained the situation to Gannon before they set off. It was now a race against time and their own wits: if they couldn’t find a surefire solution for dealing with Moth, it wasn’t likely they’d survive the tournament much longer. Cap’n estimated that they had, at most, one week before Moth’s forces converged on Cap’s location. It was thus imperative that they make the most of their remaining time.

To that end, Cap’n had searched the spellbook for something that could provide a mount, to expedite travel somewhat. They’d found nothing specific, except one spell scribbled in the margins. After deciphering it and installing it on a new page as a proper entry, it seemed like exactly what they needed.

One incantation later, and Cap’n was the proud owner of a magically-summoned Toyota hybrid, seemingly a 2009 Supra. Why it was a Supra and not any other car was anyone’s guess. It seemed to be pre-owned, it was a little dusty, and the license plate read “TH3-K1NG”. Additionally, it had been modified with a few luxury features, as evidenced by the slot installed in the ceiling for a TV screen. The screen was absent, however, having been violently ripped from its socket at some point. Peculiar. Discarded snack packaging and paper cups littered the floor of the car.

Cap’n cleared out the trash and set themselves up in the back seat, arraying their notes and tools in an eclectic mess on the seats and centre console. It was a little cramped for an office, but it would have to do. Gannon merely narrowed his eyes, having an idea of whose car this might be but remaining silent on the matter.

Cap’n spoke up. “Hop in the front seat, you’re driving.”

Gannon looked uncertainly at the steering wheel and pedals before begrudgingly seating themself. “The wheel turns us left and right, the pedal on the left makes us go, and the pedal on the right makes us stop. The lever next to the wheel tells the car to let us start going, but you can also switch it so the car drives in reverse. To start the car, turn the key next to the wheel.” Cap’n helpfully added.

Gannon looked around for the pedals, lever, and key that Cap’n mentioned. They discovered all but the last, finding an empty keyhole.

Cap’n looked up and noticed Gannon’s confusion. “Look up.”

Gannon’s head whipped upwards, nearly hitting the ceiling of the car, and their gaze landed on the sunshade, where a set of keys sat wedged between the shade and the ceiling. On the keychain was the key to the car, as well as a metal ornament in the shape of a crown.

They retrieved the key and inserted it into the lock, twisting it until the car started with a satisfying purr. “WHAT IS OUR HEADING, MY MASTER?”

Cap’n was examining some charts they’d put together mapping out what they’d seen of the arena so far. “I’m thinking we wanna head past these hills back towards the centre of the battle dome. I’ve got a hunch people are starting to bunch up now.”

It took a while for Gannon to get the hang of driving, but he took to it surprisingly well. They were on their way.

Cap’n set to work tinkering with spellwork almost immediately, crafting new spells, preparing pre-cooked versions for quick use in combat, and simplifying complex incantations where they could. A small plastic bag of trinkets and costume jewellery served well as materials for enchantment, though the intricate work was made more difficult by the bumpy conditions as they passed through a large gravel pit. Cap’n also conversed with Gannon abut subjects magical and strategic along the way.

By the time they were finished, the car was passing through another biome, the ruins of a small town. The architecture was different than the haunted town that Olive had chased Cap’n through, certainly less threatening and ominous. Mostly just sad and melancholic. Cap’n was about to lose interest when both they and their driver saw something peculiar.

At the border of the town was a veil of greyish mist, which shouldn’t have been possible in the noon-day sun. Visibility was poor, but nonetheless Cap’n could clearly see the landscape beyond. It looked… wrong. Seeming to encroach on the terrain surrounding it, a vast expanse of dead, grey grass dotted with stunted, leafless black trees greeted the pair as they rolled along. Something about the way the environment looked in that misty haze made Cap’s brain itch. It must have been the shaky runes that seemed to appear on various surfaces when they unfocused their eyes just right. On the trees, on the grass, hell, they could even see runes floating in the mist. There was some seriously bad magicks at work in there.

“Hey, Gannon, maybe drive us around that mess.”

“A WISE DECISION.” Gannon turned the wheel, and gave the haunted grey expanse a wide berth.

Cap’n supposed this might be the work of Thinbug. Another insectoid collective, Thinbug had a grasp of some pretty mind-bending magical powers, or so Cap’n had heard. Cap’n was plenty content to let someone else deal with that whole mess, this sort of eldritch chicanery wasn’t any business they wanted to be mired in, especially not now.

As they drove away from the ominous grey wasteland, growing like mold just outside the border of the abandoned town, Cap’n breathed a sigh of relief. It might have been their imagination, but they could almost hear whispers in their head the longer they looked at the blighted environment behind them. All that had stopped when they’d turned around and fled the scene.

The pair passed now into an expanse of shrubland. Cap’n turned their attention to the Moth problem. Clearly, the solar moths had known Cap’s location all along, and were likely still tracking them. This wasn’t a problem they could easily solve without serious expense in time and energy, so they elected to leave it be.

Instead, they considered the personality of the Mothcat. From where Cap’n was standing, it seemed to hold the pride of a god or demigod within itself. Whether this was a byproduct of their feline body or not was up in the air, but it had the consequence that Mothcat was assured that they’d already won the tournament even before talking to Cap’n.

Considering the situation from Moth’s perspective, there was essentially only one outcome: Cap’n is assimilated into the hive, in one form or another. Whether it be by force due to refusing its ultimatum or by force at a later time due to accepting it was irrelevant.

That level of sureness was dangerous, though. Prone to falling apart under unforeseen circumstances. A devious plan began to hatch in Cap’s mind.

It was probably a bad idea, and would certainly cost Cap’n the element of surprise on Goldspin, but…

Cap’n looked up from their notes. “Okay, here’s what we’re gonna do.”

Talking and drafting plans at the same time, Cap’n began their spiel. “Our main goal is to find Goldspin, wherever he is. When we get there, he’s probably gonna be fighting that Black Rider – or I guess they’re called ‘Goldbreaker’. We move in, and tell them that Moth is on their way to destroy GS.”

“WOULD THIS NOT DRAW THE IRE OF THE MOTH HIVE?”

“Exactly. They don’t expect us to cave to their ultimatum and then turn around and ruin their plan, now do they? It’ll piss them off, and they’ll get disorganized. Right now, their plan relies on us laying down and dying like good little feedstock for the hive. In fact, their entire plan is built on the assumption that we’re incapable of putting up meaningful resistance. Thus, the best way to break their morale is to do the opposite of that, throw them off. Psychological warfare.”

Gannon’s mouth spread in a thin line and their brow furrowed. “THIS PLAN… IT IS EXTREMELY RECKLESS.” A toothy grin spread its way across his face. “I LIKE IT. FOR TOO LONG HAVE WE COWERED IN THE SHADOWS. THE TIME HAS COME TO BE AN AGENT OF CHAOS AND DISCORD. WE SHALL BREAK THE SPIRITS OF THOSE BUGS AND TURN THEIR PLANS UPSIDE DOWN.” Punctuating this, Gannon slammed on the gas, revving up the engine and sending the car speeding across the dusty earth.

“Yeah, that’s the enthusiasm I’m looking for! If we’re lucky, we’ll even be able to get GS and that Rider fellow on board with us for a time.”

“I BELIEVE OUR CHANCES OF THAT ARE SLIM, BUT IT WOULD CERTAINLY BE A BOON.”

“True, very true. What I want most, though, out of all the outcomes, is to get the Rider and GS to work together.”

Gannon quirked their eyebrow up. “WOULD THEY NOT BE MORE OF A NUISANCE AS A PAIR?”

“Maybe, but not as much of a nuisance as a unified Moth hive with Goldbreaker in tow, and no Goldspin as a counterbalance.”

“HMMM… YOU MAKE A GOOD POINT.”

“This could still backfire in a lot of ways. For one thing, GS and the Rider might attack us immediately, which would sort of invalidate the whole scenario. There’s also no guarantee that Moth won’t immediately bust our chops for going against their will.”

“I HAD ALSO CONSIDERED THIS. THE INSECTS MAY DIRECT THEIR IRE SOLELY AT YOU FOR YOUR INSOLENCE.”

“I’m definitely banking on Moth being too occupied with cleaning up the mess we make to deal with us immediately. Still, we have at least some control of that part of the situation. For one thing, we have this sweet ride, and they don’t. We can peel out pretty quick, and from there, I’m thinking we rely on your darkness magicks as a smokescreen to throw the bugs off our trail.”

“A WISE DECISION. THERE IS NOTHING IN ALL THE REALMS THAT ISN’T WITHIN MY POWER TO HIDE FROM VIEW.”

“For now, we focus on reaching Goldspin before Moth does. Hey, d’you mind if I put on some tunes?”

Gannon looked quizzically at Cap’n. “THIS CARRIAGE HAS THE POWER TO PLAY MUSIC?”

“It does indeed. Observe.” Cap’n produced a CD from inside their inventory, reaching over the console and sliding it into the slot on the instrument panel. A moment later, the heavy bass of a phonk beat pulsed through the speaker system, causing the seats to resonate with the rhythm of the music.

The Toyota hybrid sped off into the distance, kicking up dust and dirt as it went. Their destination: a certain gold robot.

---

By the time the Toyota pulled up to the scene, the battle had already been going on for some time. Goldspin and the Goldbreaker were in the “slugfest” stage already, and were just standing in the midst of the towering husks of skyscrapers, trading blows one after the other, almost politely taking their turns punch by punch. Goldspin took a left in the jaw, staggering back before sending a right hook into the Rider’s gut, sending it reeling before it retaliated in turn.

It was a fight very unlike the encounter Cap’n had watched them have before. Then, the Goldbreaker had dropped in like a bolt of lightning or a laser-guided missile, striking quickly and relentlessly. That was an attempted assassination. This, however, was a duel.

The thundering blows halted and slowed momentarily as the hybrid sports car screeched to a halt on the gravelly earth nearby, but quickly regained their groove as Goldbreaker pressed the advantage.

Cap’n stepped out of the back of the car, climbing onto the roof brandishing a megaphone. “HEy-” The microphone wasn’t on. They flicked a switch, and began again. “HEY!!”

Both fighters turned to Cap’n. Goldspin spoke up, voice synthesis modules whirring to life. “Do you mind? We’re sorta busy clashing our warrior’s souls to see who comes out on top.” Goldbreaker nodded in agreement.

Shouting above the howling winds of battle, Cap’n replied back. “Nah, nah, that’s cool! I just sorta thought you should know that Moth is out to kill you. They got this whole ace in the hole thing, gonna totes dissolve your armor and kill you, quick style! She’s probably on her way here right now, even!!”

Goldspin looked into the pale eyes of the Rider in black. “Did you know about this? Was this a set-up???”

The Goldbreaker vigorously shook their head before speaking in a gravelly, garbled voice, like that of a chorus of cicadas attempting to approximate English.”I was not aware of this. I’ve been disconnected from the hive ever since my last conversation with the hive mother. It… went poorly. But, I assure you I had nothing to do with this. This is supposed to be an honorable duel to determine who is superior, I wouldn’t dare-”

Goldspin put their hands up defensively. “I get ya, I get ya. Cap, where are you getting this from?”

The megaphone amplified Cap’s reply. “Straight from the horse’s mouth, or, more accurately, the cat’s.”

The Rider’s eyes widened. “You actually *spoke *with the Mothcat and lived???”

The megaphone was getting a little grating now. “Yeah, she said I ‘flattered’ her, or something. I guess that’s part of why she didn’t kill me outright.”

The Rider looked quizzically back at Cap’n. “She totally wants to assimilate you into the hive, you know.”

“Yeah, that’s why I’m here. She decided to be sporting and give me a few days to spend however I like before she chases me down and turns me into a husk, so I figured I’d do the only logical thing and ruin her element of surprise.”

Goldspin crossed his arms. “Wouldn’t that piss her off, like, a lot?”

Cap’n nodded. “Pretty much, yeah. Anyway she’s 100% gonna ruin your epic duel if nothing gets in her way.”

“What are you implying?” Quoth the Rider. “I’m not going against my own hive mother, we’re… well, the closest approximation in your tongue is ‘family’.”

“Have it your way, then. She’ll come in here with her forces, douse your pal Goldspin in Aqua Regia, and then chew him up like tin foil, and that’ll be that.”

The Goldbreaker clenched its fist. “But…! I have to prove I can beat him myself and complete my mission! Under my own power!! It wouldn’t be a fair fight if she did that…” It put its hands on its head. “Gahhh…!” The Goldbreaker began pacing uneasily back and forth across the dirt.

Goldspin looked back and forth between Cap’n and the Rider. “Hey Cap’n, you know that gold doesn’t get dissolved by acids, right? It’s uhh… what was it… ‘non-reactive’?”

“Aqua Regia is a special case. Ancient alchemists used to use it to dissolve gold all the time.”

“Damn, alchemists were some cool motherfuckers. How’d Moth hear about this stuff?”

Cap’n looked a little sheepish standing on the top of the car. “Well, uhh, she sorta forced me to tell her about it.”

Goldspin started tapping their foot on the ground. “Lemme guess: you were gonna use the stuff on me?”

“… Maybe?”

Goldspin seemed to ponder for a moment before regarding Cap’n resolutely. “Alright, here’s what’s gonna happen. You, bug guy.”

The Rider snapped out of their anxious reverie and locked eyes with Goldspin.

“We’re gonna put this fight on hold for now. If we keep this up, and if half of what Cap’n says is true, we won’t be able to finish it anyway.”

The Goldbreaker chittered angrily. “Nrrrrgghhh… fine. But this isn’t over!”

Goldspin merely nodded before turning back to Cap’n. “Cap’n. Your ride is pretty sweet. Make some space, we’re coming with.”

Cap’n nearly dropped the megaphone. “Huh?”

Goldspin continued. “You could be working with Moth and trying to double cross us. So, as insurance, we’re getting in your car. If there’s any funny business, we’ll bust it up, and you with it, before resuming our duel.” GS turned back to the Goldbreaker. “Is that acceptable?”

It thought for a moment before throwing its hands up. “I don’t have any better ideas, much as the idea of going on, of all things, a car ride with you pains me.”

“Great. I call shotgun.”

The Goldbreaker growled in anger before stomping off to the back door of the car. Cap’n uneasily seated themself in the leftmost seat, leaving space inbetween them and the Goldbreaker, while Goldspin sat leisurely in the passenger seat, resting their metal feet on the dashboard. He turned to Gannon in the driver’s seat. “Why so nervous, gramps? Your first time behind the wheel or what?”

Gannon bared their teeth. “YES. NOT THAT IT’S ANY OF YOUR BUSINESS, YOU YELLOW BABOON.”

“Yeesh. Touchy fella, isn’t he?”

Cap’n piped up from the back seat. “You don’t know the half of it.”

The Toyota uneasily reversed its heading and drove off, with its two new passengers in tow, before disappearing into a cloud of black haze which manifested around the car, dissipating to reveal air where once had been a motor vehicle.

---

Cap’n certainly hadn’t planned to be in the same car as GS and the Black Rider, but they supposed that this suited their plans well enough. If anything, it had been easier than expected to get the two to tolerate each other. Still, they would have preferred to avoid the current situation. It felt as if they had multiple guns pressed to their head, one from Moth, who was assuredly furious at being bamboozled out of an easy victory against GS, one from GS himself, poised to cave in Cap’s skull the moment he felt like the current arrangement didn’t suit him, and the Goldbreaker, for pretty much the same reason as GS.

Cap’n attempted to make idle conversation as they drove along a long and empty road. They turned to the insectoid warrior in the seat next to them. They were glowering out the back window after a bout of seat-kicking failed to get a rise out of Goldspin. “So… what do you go by? Mothcat said you were called ‘Goldbreaker’, and when I first saw you I called you “Black Rider” in my notes, but I haven’t been sure about what you’d actually consider to be your proper name.”

Their antennae twitched as they thought over Cap’s question. “Well, I guess the hive mother’s answer would be the most accurate, but now I’m not so sure. She did designate me ‘Goldbreaker’ when I was formed, but I think I consider that more like a title now, and a reminder of my mission. ‘Black Rider’ does sound strong and distinguished, but… what am I the ‘Rider’ of?”

Cap’n thought over how they could explain their choice of codename without sounding like a huge nerd, but before they could answer, Goldspin spoke up. “Is it because they look like Kamen Rider or something?”

“Err… yeah, it is.”

The Black Rider tilted its head. “What’s a Kamen?”

Goldspin answered. “Japanese for ‘mask’. Basically Kamen Rider was a guy with a mask that kinda looks like your face, drove a badass motorcycle and fought evil by punching and kicking it real hard. Never watched much of it, was more of an anime guy myself.”

“So… ‘Kamen Rider’ is a character in some television show?”

Cap’n rubbed the back of their head sheepishly. “Pretty much. I saw you out there on that gravel pit ages back, and you reminded me of him. You even do the same kick move as him, the Rider Kick.”

Goldspin turned around, and adjusted their glasses. “Actually, it’s called a Red Hot Kick.”

The Rider shook their head silently in embarrassment at the blatant nerdery on display. Collecting themself, they asked a question. “This… ‘Kamen Rider’. Is he strong?”

Cap’n nodded. “I’d say, yeah. Fights mutants for a living, has the strength of a grasshopper blown up to human proportions.”

“Hmm.” It was difficult to see through the solid mask of the Rider’s face, obscured further as they turned around and looked out the window, but those who knew them well would notice the smug satisfaction they radiated upon hearing that someone had associated them with someone so strong. Perhaps “Black Rider” might do as a moniker…

Goldspin turned to the driver, the dark wizard Gannon. “You’ve been pretty quiet for a while. What’s your story?”

Gannon looked exasperatedly at his passengers. “I CARE NOT FOR YOUR FOOLISH PRATTLE, BUT IF I MUST…”

Gannon breathed a large sigh through their beastly nostrils before launching their spiel. “IN MY WORLD, I WAS KNOWN AS THE GREATEST AND MOST EVIL SORCERER IN ALL THE REALMS. I AM THE PRINCE OF DARKNESS, GANNON. REGRETTABLY, I WAS SEALED AWAY IN AN ANCIENT MAGICAL BOOK BY A PITIFUL EXCUSE FOR A BOY HERO, AND IN THE FULLNESS OF TIME THAT BOOK PASSED INTO THE POSSESSION OF YONDER CAPTAIN METALHEAD. THROUGH MEANS I STILL HAVE YET TO UNDERSTAND, THEY BOUND ME PERMANENTLY TO THEIR WILL, AND NOW I SERVE THEM.” Gannon’s teeth clenched. “A CIRCUMSTANCE WHICH IRKS ME TO NO END.”

“Yikes, dude. Sounds like a raw deal. Why do you keep this old dude locked up in a book like that, that’s kind of a jerk thing to do.”

Cap’n raised their finger matter-of-factly. “Firstly, you know the instant he gets out he’s gonna turn me into pink mist, right? Secondly, by his own admission he’s an evil prince of darkness, he’d 100% start causing problems for everyone else.”

Gannon helpfully added. “THEY SPEAK TRUTHFULLY. THE MOMENT I ESCAPE MY BONDS IS THE SAME MOMENT YOUR DAYS WILL BE AT AN END, AND THE MOMENT I BEGIN MY NEW TERRIBLE REIGN IN THIS WORLD, CASTING A VEIL OF DARKNESS OVER EVERY REALM UNTIL ALL LIGHT IS SNUFFED OUT FOR GOOD.”

“Alright, I take it back, keep him in there. Wow.”

Gannon grumbled and kept on driving.

They drove on until it was night. This road seemed endless with how long they’d been travelling on it. Gannon almost lost focus for a moment, beginning to tune out the background noise of the open road and the sparse conversation between the passengers mingling with the music playing in the CD player, but then something caught him off guard.

A shadow passed up ahead along the road, just outside the path of the headlights. On alert, now, Gannon kept their eyes peeled.

It was when the car crested the top of a hill that the situation became apparent. Up ahead, a dozen or more eyes stared back at the oncoming car, shining reflectively in the pitch darkness of a cloud-covered night.

For one, terrifying moment, Gannon and Cap’n thought that maybe they’d been had and that they were surrounded by solar moth husks, but the one source of illumination on the road ahead made it clear that this was not the case.

Standing in the middle of the road was a humanoid figure, gangly and hunched over. The entire creature was engulfed in flames, but its glaring eyes were still visible through the inferno. It was Mozz, but this time they weren’t alone. All along the roadside, a crowd of Mozz doppelgangers stood silent vigil, staring unblinkingly at the Toyota rolling down the road towards them.

Mozz, in flames, let out a haunting groan, echoing across the plain, and rising in pitch and volume, until it became a haggard, animalistic scream. It was joined in chorus by its compatriots, until the entire area became a cacophony of bloodcurdling howls.

“What are those things?” asked the Rider.

“What the hell? I thought I punched that thing’s head off…” Goldspin answered unhelpfully.

“Floor it, Gannon!!” shouted Cap’n. Gannon didn’t need to be told twice. The tires screeched and the engine roared as Gannon’s foot slammed into the gas pedal, sending the car speeding along at a buck-twenty, slowed only by a head-on collision with the burning Mozz they’d fought at the start of this mess.

For a single, horrible instant, Cap’n, Goldspin, and Gannon got a good look at the burning monster before it met the car’s bumper. The thing had been regenerating constantly, its face scarred by burnt cheese and bread which formed and reformed as it burnt to ash with the heat of the flames consuming it. Its legs, such as they were, had been replaced by charred breadsticks, partly carbonized, with dough exposed beneath. The regeneration of the grease on its surface perpetuated the fire that struggled to consume it whole.

Then, metal met pizza, and the creature was sent flying into the air, landing with a wet thud behind the vehicle as it passed.

They hit a fair few more Mozz clones, splattering pizza guts across the road, but causing very little damage to the car, all things considered. Either Mozz was very light, or the front end of this thing was extremely durable.

After a bit of panic, everyone in the car turned around to see that they’d passed through the crowd of Mozz, and breathed a collective sigh of relief.

Having gathered themself, Cap’n answered the Goldbreaker’s earlier question. “Those things are a creature called Mozz, some kind of animate food beast made of pizza and hatred. I was under the impression there was only one of them, but it looks like there’s a lot more now.”

“You don’t think they’re multiplying, do you?” asked Goldspin.

“It sure looks like that’s what happened. I only fought one Mozz, and it sounds like you did too. In fact, I think the one on fire that we hit first is the same one me and Gannon fought around the start of the tournament. I didn’t see any other Mozzs on fire in that crowd, so they must be different ones. The big question is ‘why are they multiplying?”

Goldspin made a dismissive gesture. “Whatever the reason is, I’m just glad they’re still super weaksauce. If they can’t even handle getting hit by a car, they’re not worth worrying about.”

Cap’n nodded, internally uneasy. “Maybe…” They had no reason to believe there was an upper limit to how much Mozz could multiply, so clearly their smallish numbers back there must have been due to the special conditions required for them to grow in number. Nonetheless, the possibility of having to fight over a hundred of them later was decidedly not appealing, even with the power they had access to now.

Speaking of power, Cap’n returned their focus to a bit of craft they were working on. In their lap was a set of light gauntlets, which they’d manifested through a clever bit of creation magic. All along the surface of the gauntlets’ armor plates were a series of sockets, varying in shape and size. Those had been the trickiest part, custom-editing the sizes and shapes of the slots had been a real thorn in Cap’s side, but this car trip presented an opportunity to use up the downtime to nail down the details on this piece.

The other difficult part had been the intricate runic inscriptions magically etched into the surface of the armor. These carried complex magical formulae, linking the item to the wearer’s will, and pulling from the surrounding aetheric field to generate magical resonance in accordance with that will. As it was now, this was a set of gauntlets that converted ideas and desires inputted into it directly into corresponding magical resonance. The device was incomplete, though, right now all it would do was vibrate a bunch.

The final touch was required. From inside their inventory, Cap’n retrieved the choicest specimens of each flavor of Chatoyanite in turn. They carefully slotted each crystal into its corresponding socket. In went red, slotting into a diamond-shaped socket. Then orange, to a circular socket. Yellow fit into a slot shaped like a ring, while green and teal were portioned into bowl-shaped depressions covered by a one-way magical barrier facing inward. Blue fit into a spherical socket, and even purple was incorporated, fitting into a half-pipe-shaped slot.

Each crystal darkened as it fit into its slot. This, Cap’n knew, meant the device was working as intended. In the absence of any will input, the runes were set to transmit negative magical resonance, suppressing the effects of the crystals. This was a countermeasure to flavors of Chatoyanite whose effects activated passively, such as blue. In blue’s case, without this suppression effect, the gloves would float into the air like balloons, never to be seen again.

The Black Rider had been watching Cap’n work on this for some time, and finally spoke up. “What are you making, there?”

Cap’n, absorbed in their work, was startled by the question, but quickly collected themself. “Well, this is a new piece of gear I’m working on. Not sure what I’ll call it, yet, but I’m thinking of using the tentative name ‘Chatoyant Hands’, or something to that effect.” In their groove, they sat up straighter and continued. “Basically, after I beat Olive I grabbed these crystals off her, she had a small collection of them. They’re packed with some kinda power I don’t fully understand, but I learned I can draw out that power if I can get them to resonate correctly. So, to that end, I put together these gloves, which use magic to get things to resonate. Slot in the crystals, and wham, power up.”

Goldspin was paying attention now. “So, what are these crystals, are they like, Chaos Emeralds, or Infinity Stones, or what?”

“Ehhh, kinda, but not really. They have a wide variety of powers, kinda like Infinity Stones, but I don’t think they’re limited in number like Chaos Emeralds. I have a handful of crappier specimens of the stuff. I think that, wherever they come from, they grow like minerals do.”

“So, where do they come from, then?” asked Goldspin.

“That’s not an easy question to answer, but… I’m almost certain they don’t originate on Earth. Minerals like this simply don’t exist here.”

“So, what, did aliens bring them here, or something?”

“That’s a possibility, but I don’t personally believe it. Having examined them, I have to believe my sources when they say that it’s of extradimensional origin. These things exhibit properties that fly in the face of physics, and I don’t even need a degree to see that.”

The Rider piped up. “Wait, hold on. If they break the laws of reality, shouldn’t their existence be impossible, or shouldn’t they at least not work?”

“One would think so. In my experience, though, artifacts, alternate physics, and magic systems that originate from other worlds tend to enter ours relatively intact. What effects this has on the stability of our universe, if any, is a question I leave to physicists, but suffice it to say, on the topic of ‘how does the universe cope with having multiple conflicting systems of magic/physics operating all at once?’, the answer is decidedly ‘it doesn’t’.”

Both warriors seemed to ponder this, while Cap’n set back to work. One last finishing touch was required.

They put on the gauntlets and the Chatoyanite set into it briefly pulsed as the runic magic spun up and began operation. All seemed to be working as intended. They reached into the back of their inventory. Truthfully, they weren’t sure if this was a good idea, but Cap’n had always been a stickler for consistency, and it wouldn’t do to have every flavor of Chatoyanite in this thing except for the most mysterious one. Out came the shining piece of Heliotrope Chatoyanite. Held in between both gauntlets, Cap’n took a deep breath. Here goes nothing, they thought.

Holding the crystal in both hands, Cap’n began the integration process. It wouldn’t have done to make a slot large enough to fit the heliotrope crystal, it would have taken too much space. Instead, they’d integrated the runic circuitry such that the magic itself formed a shaped slot fit for the Chatoyanite. The crystal began to levitate between their hands as the magic did its work. Slowly, it became more and more insubstantial, before fading away in a small shower of sparkles. Heliotrope had been installed into the gloves. The surface of the metal took on a bright, pearly quality, exhibiting a variety of lustres and color bands depending on the viewing angle. The device was done.

Cap’n looked on their handiwork, satisfied. With this, the matter of making the fullest use of Chatoyanite was settled, with minimal cost. This would supplement their arsenal nicely, affording them some real shock-and-awe abilities without requiring them to cast lengthy magic spells, or prepare spellwork in advance. Now it was just a matter of learning how best to apply the properties of the gems themselves.

Goldspin looked back at Cap’n from the passenger seat, eyes hidden behind their emerald glasses. “Y’know I was worried for a second that you were gonna use those to double cross us after you were done making them, or something lame like that, but that has entirely vanished in the wake of how sick those gloves look.”

Cap’n looked again at the shiny surface of the gauntlets on their hands, whose lustre was ever changing and shifting. “Y’know, you’re absolutely right. These things look radical.”

The Rider was unimpressed. “Tch. Style offers no tactical advantages whatsoever.”

“Debatable.” replied Goldspin, simply and definitively.

Cap’n had already shifted focus back to the gloves as a small, quasi-friendly argument started between GS and the Rider about the tactical advantages of looking cool. Now was a good opportunity to test some of the low-level practical applications of the gloves in a safe environment. They certainly wouldn’t want to figure this stuff out on the fly in the heat of battle, after all.

Pulling out their notes, they stretched their hands and began testing. The Bestiary sat closed on their lap. Holding their hand over its cover, Cap’n willed the book to open and flip to the chapter they’d been writing on the topic of Chatoyanite.

A pulse propagated through the gloves and the orange, green, and blue crystals began to glow. As Cap’n had predicted, the book opened of its own accord and flipped page after page in a whirlwind of paper before landing on the desired chapter. Telekinesis get. Cap’n smiled in satisfaction. This was a fantastic idea.

They found themselves able to generate both sparks and frost, heal small wounds, and flick bits of grit so hard they embedded themselves into the seat in front of them. They were particularly interested in the powers of the purple crystal, so they tentatively experimented with them on the small scale. With a bit of experimentation, they were able to teleport small objects, form small, localized wormholes, and transport small objects a short distance into the future. They couldn’t help but feel like this power was perhaps a little too much to handle, though. They decided against sending objects to the past, or otherwise experimenting more with time manipulation, at least for the moment. They didn’t bother testing heliotrope’s capabilities because they still struggled to conceptualize how they would even do so. Cap’n might be a powerful wizard, knowledgeable scholar, and literal miracle worker at this point, but their brain didn’t exactly operate at higher dimensions. Extradimensional chicanery was probably beyond them, but they were open to the possibility, at the very least.

In any case, these gloves were quite the boon. Cap’n looked up from their handiwork, and saw that Gannon had somehow been roped into the discussion Goldspin and the Rider were having, offering his own opinions as if they were gospel before getting clowned on by the combined forces of the two warriors. Cap’n caught themself smiling. It was easy to forget that everyone in the car was part of a death game where only one victor could survive and get the big win. Of course, death was familiar and blasé for Cap’n and their friends, and everyone would get back up at the end to laugh about the whole thing afterwards…

For the moment, though, there was tunes, there was banter, and there was the road. It wouldn’t hurt to let this moment continue a while longer.

Cap’n and company sped off into the night, carried by the steel and composite carriage of the Toyota.

---

The next day passed in much the same way the previous had. Speeding along, the Toyota ferried the group across an asphalt sea that seemingly had no end. The car’s crew was beginning to become restless, and to doubt the capabilities of its navigator.

Tired of endless driving, Cap’n and company stepped out of the car for some fresh air. Goldspin and the Black Rider both started stretching their arms and legs almost immediately, while Gannon surveyed the horizon with apprehension and Cap’n consulted their charts.

After examining them every which way, twice over, Cap’n threw their arms down and scratched their head in bewilderment. “Well, I can see three possibilities at this stage. Possibility one, we’ve entered some kind of spatial anomaly, and this road has been repeating. Frankly, that’s not very likely. Possibility two, the battledome is much, much larger than I anticipated and we’re way off the beaten path right now. Plausible, but I don’t personally think it’s true. Possibility three, the battledome has a big, long, two-lane road that runs the circumference of the arena, and the curve is subtle enough that it looks like we’re travelling straight. Not sure I like the implications of that, to be honest.”

“So, really, either way we’re lost, is what you’re saying?” said Goldspin, unimpressed.

Cap’n threw their hands up in surrender. “Pretty much. But! It’s very likely we’ve shaken Moth off our trail in the process. Hard to figure out where we’re headed if we don’t know either.”

The Rider chimed in, not pausing in their stretching routine. “That would be a really well-executed plan if you had actually come up with it on purpose.”

Cap’n let out an exasperated sigh. “Ain’t that the truth. Hey, did we always have a busted brake light?”

The Toyota’s left brake light was dark, unlike its counterpart on the right side. The casing seemed mostly undamaged, if a bit scuffed and stained by drops of congealed pizza grease.

The Rider was still stretching. “I got hungry, buzz off.”

“Fair enough.” Replied Cap’n, simply. “Any ideas about what to do next, anyone?”

Nobody offered a thing, but Goldspin raised his hand. “I’ll be honest, I don’t have any ideas about how to get un-lost, I just really wanna take this thing for a ride.”

Cap’n looked at Gannon, then back to Goldspin. “I guess that’s fine, as long as you don’t total it. Action is better than sitting around waiting, even if it isn’t really useful action.”

“Fuckin’ sweet.” Goldspin slid over the hood to the driver’s side and seated himself behind the wheel, feeling up the surface of the wheel cover. Rolling down the windows, he propped his arm up on the door, almost immediately projecting the platonic ideal of comfort behind the wheel.

And, just like that, the group was on the road again, this time with Goldbreaker in the passenger seat, relegating Gannon to the back seat with Cap’n.

It wasn’t long into the drive, though, before something happened. Adjusting the rear-view mirror, Goldspin spotted a point moving up the road behind them.

“I think someone’s tailing us, guys.”

Each passenger turned to face the rear window, and, sure enough, the speck was plain to see. It sped up, moving closer until it pulled up alongside the car in the other lane.

It was Robo, floating at high speed on a cloud, sitting comically in a seated position miming the posture of a driver, honking a non-existent horn and yelling “BEEP BEEP HONK HONK” in a mockery of the Toyota’s driver.

Goldspin only looked stoically at Robo for a moment. Silence passed between them for a bit before Goldspin let out a small chuckle. “Okay, that is pretty funny.” He flicked on the switch for the four-ways, and pulled slowly over to the side of the road before coming to a stop.

Robo did much the same, pulling their cloud-car into a parking position across both lanes before miming opening a non-existent door to exit their vehicle, which dissipated into mist before evaporating completely. They walked over, nonexistent pad and pen in hand, before asking Goldspin, “So, did you know how fast you were going?”

“I assure you, officer, I was driving well above the speed limit. There is no need to be upset.”

Robo feigned surprise. “Oh, well everything seems to be in order then.” They were about to walk away, but stopped. “Except…”

They sauntered over to the rear of the car. “Yup. That, right there, is a non-functional brake light. Tsk tsk.” Robo waggled their finger. “Classic traffic violation. You know what that means…”

Goldspin merely lowered their sunglasses with one finger, looking at Robo over them.

“It means… I get to FLIP YOUR CAR OVER WOOPAH!!”

Robo suddenly kicked the underside of the car’s fender, sending it flying into the air tumbling over itself. The passengers were tossed about, as Goldspin was the only one with the presence of mind to wear their seatbelt. Unflappable, he maintained the exact same position throughout the car’s flight. A jolt passed through the entire car and its passengers, and despite careening through the air, the car landed perfectly on all four wheels, the suspension dissipating the force of the impact, which kicked up a cloud of dust.

Robo gaped for a moment before grasping the bridge of their nose in exasperation. “Ok, I gotta be real. How the FUCK do you keep doing that?”

Goldspin replied. “Goldspin always lands on his feet.” Sunlight glinted off his emerald sunglasses.

He stepped out of the car, followed shakily by his unlikely comrade, disoriented by the car’s spinning flight through the air.

“My my, Goldspin. You’ve been busy, look how many friends you made! Too bad you all fell into my Spatial Infinity Road Trap!!! Shoulda paid more attention to where you were driving, hah hah!!”

In the background, Cap’n could be heard saying “Oooohhhh, that makes sense…”

Goldspin stepped forward. “I’m guessing that if we beat you, then your Special Infinite whatever trap will shut down?”

Robo shrugged their shoulders. “Well, I dunno, I mean, probably, y’know, maybe, I didn’t really check, I mean, y’know….”

Goldspin cracked their knuckles. “Those odds are good enough for me. You wanted to fight anyway, right? We didn’t exactly finish our battle from last time.”

“You’re damn right, we didn’t!! Cuz yoooouuuuuuu…” Robo pointed at the Black Rider with a robotic, segmented finger. “had to waltz in unannounced and steal my thunder.”Robo laughed at their own pun. “Hah! Thunder.”

The Rider fired back. “It wasn’t as if I had any choice, I wasn’t my own person back then. I’m still not going to let you take my mission away from me, though. Goldspin is mine to defeat, no matter who gets in my way.”

Robo gaped in amazement. “Ho HO?! This bug has some serious guts!! It’s too bad, though. I found Goldspin first, which means he’s actually mine, not yours. Tough luck, bug boy.” An image of a sad clown displayed on the TV screen that made up Robo’s torso.

Robo’s attention shifted before the Rider could offer a rebuttal. “And heyyyyy, if it isn’t Cap’n Metalhead? Why, uh, why are you here?”

Cap’n wracked their thoughts for a moment, looking extremely tired. “It’s… it’s a whole fuckin, thing.”

“Huh. Sweet gloves, by the way, very stylish. Who’s that old crotchety ugly guy, I don’t recognize him.” Robo was pointing at Gannon.

“I AM THE GREATEST SORCERER IN ALL THE REALMS, THE PRINCE OF DARKNESS, GAN-”

“Yeah, I just realized I don’t care.” Robo turned their attention back to Goldspin while Gannon spat and sputtered at being ignored so blatantly. “So yeah, anyway, I’m gonna fight you now, Tell your buds to buzz off, already.”

The Rider stepped forward. “I just told you, I won’t let you stop me from fulfilling my mission. Goldspin is mine to fight!!”

“Ughhh, oh my god, fine, if you wanna save him from me so bad why don’t you marry him or something, jeez. You. Cap’n.” Robo snapped their fingers and pointed at an empty spot next to them.

Cap’n looked confused.

“Are you dense? These nerds want a ‘fair fight’ or whatever, so get over here and balance out the scale. NOW.” They punctuated their statement by folding out their cannon arm and pointing it in Cap’s direction.

They looked anxiously between Robo and Goldspin. He gave a cautious nod, and Cap’n obliged Robo’s demand. Gannon began to follow along, but was halted by an order from Robo. “You stay out of this, old guy.”

Cap’n begrudgingly returned Gannon to his prison in the book and stowed it inside their inventory. “Oh, what? He lives in a book? Weird. What is he, like, your boyfriend or something?”

Cap’s eyes widened. “NO, gods, anything but that. He’s more like my minion or servant.”

Robo shrugged. “Huh. Kinky. ANYWAYYY now the numbers are equal, or whatever, and we can fight. We cool?”

Goldspin’s metal nose wrinkled with dissatisfaction, and the Rider’s antennae bristled, but he nodded and took a fighting stance.

“Cool.” Robo raised their hand, snapping their finger. All at once, the air turned frigid, and frost formed on the sparse vegetation growing on the dusty ground.

Goldspin’s opening move was the same as it had been in the first battle, but the frozen ground sent them sliding further than they expected, straight into the welcoming arms of Robo’s grapple, which they turned into a chokehold.

“Predictable!”

Robo adjusted their grip again, and slammed Goldspin into the ground, facefirst, before swinging them again the other way, slamming their back into the dirt, finally tossing him away into a heap. He quickly righted himself, but seemed surprised that he’d been so thoroughly whomped.

Robo pressed the advantage and pursued, but the Black Rider remained in place for a moment, regarding Cap’n. It seemed to be communicating something with its gaze, before it put its palm to its face. “Right, I forgot. You lesser beings aren’t hooked up to the hive telepathic network. Look, these circumstances aren’t acceptable. You’re with us, right?”

Cap’n looked back at Robo, who was still harassing Goldspin, keeping him on the defensive. Cap’n nodded at the Rider. “Good. Let’s show this fool not to let their guard down so easily.”

Truth be told, Cap’n was feeling anything but ready for this fight. They knew as well as anyone that the power Robo wielded was not to be trifled with. Additionally, Robo’s psychological profile suggested this battle would turn very nasty very quickly once the group stopped dancing to her tune.

Still, Cap’n decided to take courage in spite of everything. They were stronger than ever with the Chatoyant Hands, and they’d prepared a healthy stock of spells beforehand. It was now, or never. Cap’n cracked their knuckles, and formed their hand into a crude gun shape, nonexistent crosshairs aimed straight at Robo. They pulled the trigger.

The red Chatoyanite glowed blindingly in tandem with the green, and an explosion rocked the battlefield between Robo and Goldspin, sending both reeling back.

Robo whipped around to face Cap’n. “What the hell, Cap!! You’re supposed to be on my side!!”

Cap’n feigned ignorance. “Sorry, I just bought these gloves, and I didn’t read the manual. Also watch out on your right!!”

Robo put their guard up, turning right to block an attack that wasn’t coming. They took a flying kick to the head from their left from the Rider, which made a small explosion on impact. Cap’n hadn’t noticed it before due to the distance of the video cameras, but the Black Rider’s melee attacks were packed with explosive chemicals similar to gunpowder, making them rather threatening and bombastic. They’d have to make a note of that later. “Sorry, I meant my right!!”

Robo glared poisonously at Cap’n before refocusing on the fight. Cap’s intentional blunder had given Goldspin the opportunity to gather himself, and now he and the Rider were pressing the advantage, with Robo on the defensive this time.

Cap’n had bought some time, and began to observe the battle. They needed to come up with a way to beat Robo quickly and at low cost, otherwise it was going to become a slugfest. They could tell Robo’s firepower exceeded what they’d bothered to show off up to this point, and if things dragged on for too long, the Rider would surely go down, and GS soon to follow. Without them as backup, Cap’n was next on the chopping block for sure.

More firepower was necessary. Cap’n equipped their sword, of black steel and wreathed in flame. It seemed to react to the red Chatoyanite in their gauntlets, and the flames surged violently, shifting from chaotic orange fire to a thin, blue torrent surrounding the blade. The sword roared like a jet engine, but the heat seemed to flow around Cap’n without burning them. “Oooh, I like this new development!” They experimentally spun the sword around in a lazy circular arc. As the flame brushed the dirt, it melted and charred into a glassy mess. Cap’n guessed that their original idea that fire’s radiant heat wouldn’t be sufficient to melt their metallic enemies wasn’t as true as it once was.

They were initially brewing a plan involving some scheme to generate a large enough magnetic field to fry their internal components, but Cap’n supposed that ganging up on Robo with brute force would suffice. Goldspin probably wouldn’t be impressed, but they stood with the Black Rider on this one. Robo had to go.

Cap’n rushed in, superheated sword in hand, and swung wide into Robo.

Her left arm impacted the ground with a mighty thud, the cloud layer surrounding it dissipating to reveal the metal components within, which crackled with electricity briefly before going silent. The part that once connected to their chassis had been cut cleanly like a hot knife through butter, and was glowing yellow with the heat.

“FUCK, my arm!!!” Robo glared at Cap’n. “OOOOOHH you are all gonna get it now…”

All at once, Robo’s remaining arm flipped into its cannon configuration, and a wide variety of symbols and lines of code displayed themselves on Robo’s torso screen, only some of which Cap’n was able to identify. They climbed up the screen in a long procession at high speed, culminating in a large alert that read “PROGRAM EXECUTE”.

The entire atmosphere of the arena changed in an instant, shifting from frigid and icy to oppressive and hot. Below Cap’s feet, they could feel the ground vibrating or resonating strangely.

“Hit me with a hot sword? Well, let’s see how much you like heat when the fucking ground turns into lava!!”

Robo wasn’t joking, the ground seemed to be heating up at a rapid pace, the sparse grass and plants in the area were beginning to smoke as the scant water that made up their tissues began to boil.

Goldspin was undisturbed, their metal body helping them to resist the worst of the heat. The Rider, meanwhile, had begun hopping up and down, maintaining their composure while keeping their feet off the ground as much as possible. Cap’s gloves kicked into gear and awaited a command from their wearer.

At first, Cap’n tried to channel the heat away from themself, but there was nowhere to channel it to besides the air – which was already hot - and the sword, which might start to melt if it got much hotter. Instead, they elected to attempt levitation. The azure blue gem on the gloves shone with a steady light as Cap’n became lighter and lighter, until they were able to leave the ground entirely.

“Hah! Look at little Cap’n, trying to float away like a balloon. Well, you know what balloons, do.” Robo aimed their remaining arm Cap’n-ward. “They pop.”

Cap’s eyes bulged as a barrage of flaming bolts flew towards them like missiles. They flailed in mid-air for a few moments before, mere instants before the projectiles hit their mark, the orange gem kicked its power up and sent Cap’n flying off to the side. The flaming blasts went wide, but Robo kept shooting.

Cap’n had to quickly get the hang of flying, narrowly dodging Robo’s attacks all the while. It helped that the flame projectiles had a much longer travel time than the icy bullets they’d seen them use before, but not much.

Robo’s distraction gave the other two fighters an opportunity to move in, which they did. She could only attack one person at a time with an arm missing, and so she ate the double Rider Kick (or, from Goldspin’s perspective, the double Red Hot Kick) they delivered to the back of her head. Her face hit the liquefying ground, getting molten bits of dirt stuck to her face.

The barrage let up, giving Cap’n a moment to act. If they couldn’t move the heat somewhere else, they’d just have to reverse it instead. The red gem suddenly surged to life, but rather than brightening to radiate its light over the area, it darkened to a nearly jet black color, with an aura of deep red around its margins where it met the gauntlet. Air currents surged through the area, spiralling towards the gem as the heat was sucked into it, reducing the temperature enough to keep the ground solid. The Rider’s toes were still being toasted, but at least the rest of them was no longer at risk of being cooked.

Robo was furious. “Rrrraaaghh! When did you get those fucking gloves, anyway?? What other shit can they do that I don’t know about?”

Cap’n answered quickly. “Got em, like, yesterday, and they can probably do a lot of things you don’t know about. Hell, they’re doing thing’s I don’t know about.”

“Grrr! Just because I can’t melt the ground doesn’t mean I can’t turn it into a liquid!” At this, Robo stomped on the ground, sending a shockwave that caused the earth to literally ripple like water. Goldspin began to sink, lifting their feet like they were standing in quicksand to avoid going under. The Rider, meanwhile, seemed to have no problem staying above ground, being much lighter and continuing to hop. Robo’s feet opened to reveal rocket boosters, which carried her into the air where Cap’n resided.

“I’m more agile in the air than you, Cap’n! Whatcha gonna do now??”

Robo locked on to Cap’n and fired a chaotic barrage of elemental blasts. Fire mingled with lightning, ice inlaid with rocks and hunks of metal joined the fray, while spinning blades of water danced with stakes of crystal.

Cap’n, thinking quickly, cast one of their premade spells, uttering the required power word. “Defense!!”

A bubble of hexagonal segments manifested around them, absorbing the barrage completely. This spell made them impervious, but only for a few moments. Under better circumstances, the incoming attack would then be visited upon its source with equal strength, but that wouldn’t matter in a second if Robo kept up their barrage, which they almost certainly would.

Praying for success, Cap’n held out their gauntlet and imagined being behind Robo. The world blurred for a moment as the purple Chatoyanite glowed, and Cap’s stomach dropped. A moment later, the view was entirely clear, with nothing but the blue sky, obscured as it was by heat haze and condensation. It had worked!

Behind them, they could hear Robo’s victorious laughter be cut short by confusion, and then a moment later the sound of what must have been the activation of their Reflect spell visiting carnage upon Robo. The sounds of the jet engines roaring under Robo’s feet ceased after the barrage was done, and she plummeted back down to earth, crashing into the viscous ground with a thud that decidedly implied rigidity. All at once, the ground returned to its previous state, leaving Goldspin’s left foot stuck mid-extraction. He wrenched it out of the ground, shaking off clods of dirt before returning to a battle stance. The Black Rider stood beside him, resolute.

The landscape seemed to shift for a moment, too. The horizon seemed to be flickering, revealing entire other biomes in the distance. “It’s working!” Cap’n shouted. “We gotta finish her somehow!”

“And kick them while they’re down? I don’t vibe with that, Cap.” Goldspin stood stoically in place, waiting for Robo to get up. The Rider looked incredulously at GS before looking back at Cap’n, giving them a look that seemed to suggest they should overrule Goldspin’s honor on this one.

Cap’n brought out Gannon from the Book of Koridai. “With me, Gannon!” Out came Cap’s spellbook close behind, pages flipping seemingly of their own accord – guided by the Chatoyant Hands – to the relevant pages in anticipation of the upcoming spellwork.

The two sorcerers began weaving magic in tandem. Magical lightning danced from the prince of darkness’s fingertips around Cap’n and himself, some flicking towards Robo’s dazed body, while Cap’n uttered incantations which seemed to agitate the purple Chatoyanite on their gauntlet. The efforts of both wizards created a hazy door in space, which opened up a pathway between this location, and somewhere else. All at once, a pile of boxes branded “Spamazon” tumbled out of the portal, their contents spilling into the open air. Out of the boxes came a rain of shiny metal objects, shaped similarly to hockey pucks. Goldspin’s sensors alerted him to step backwards, and he hopped back a few feet further away from Robo, still prone on the ground.

As the metal objects fell on and around Robo, the circuitry within began to spit and sputter, their torso screen flashing wildly in a seizure-inducing display of electronic suffering. Robo seemed to swear and sputter, but their speech was unintelligible, garbled by a chaotic signal and the popping and cracking of the speaker in their voice synthesis module. Electricity ran unbidden across their motherboard, and the rhythms of electronic logic ran off the rails before coming to a halt. The last thing to display on the screen that made up Robo’s chest was a blue screen with an error code in white text.

The battle was over, with Cap’n having delivered the final blow: a truckload of high-quality neodymium magnets, straight from a Spamazon warehouse.

Looking around, the ragtag group was standing back in normal space again. In the distance, the road crested a hill before disappearing from view. Portside from the road was the barrier that marked the edge of the battledome, starboard, the open wilderness, dotted with a few stunted trees.

The gravity of what had just happened hit Cap’n like a ton of bricks when they touched down on the ground, the Chatoyant Hands’ many gems returning to their inert state. They stood a little unsteadily before regaining their balance.

Goldspin was the first to speak. “Y’know, I woulda liked a bit more time to actually have a fair fight with Robo. Pretty lame of you to attack someone on the ground like that, if I’m being honest.”

Cap’n looked into the opaque surface of Goldspin’s sunglasses, breathing heavily and searching for something articulate to use as a rebuttal. All they could muster was “Man, whatever.”

The Black Rider seemed to be concentrating on something before piping up. “We’re definitely out of that trap or whatever that was, now. I’m picking up hive transmissions again. Great news, they have no idea where we are!”

Cap’n perked up at this. “Did you say ‘transmissions’?”

“Yes, the hive communicates over long distances using what your tongue calls ‘electromagnetic radiation’. Now that we’re back in the dome, I’m picking them up again with my antennae.”

“I KNEW IT!!” Cap’n pumped their fist, smug and proud of having made the connection earlier. They went largely ignored as Goldspin continued the conversation. “You never told me moths could talk to each other on the radio. Neat trick.”

“… You’re not worried I was secretly sending info back to the hive?”

“Nah, you seem chill enough, and you fought well back there. I trust you.”

The Rider looked incredulously at Goldspin. “You confuse me. You and I both know my main mission in life is to beat you, right? I’m your enemy.”

Goldspin shook their head. “A little friendly beatdown never hurt any friendship I’ve been in. Cap’n can attest to that.”

Cap’n nodded. “It’s true, back home, friends fight and kill each other all the time. Violence is part of the culture.”

“Couldn’t have put it better myself. Sure, you may want me dead for reasons I don’t understand, but you’re my comrade, and I consider you a friend.”

The Rider shook their head in disbelief. “Your thinking is contradictory and irrational. I don’t understand you.” The insectoid warrior threw their hands up in surrender. With nothing better to do, each fighter returned to the car. Cap’n was the last, retrieving Robo’s severed arm, now cool enough to safely touch, and stowed it in their inventory as a souvenir.

Each fighter settled into their seat, with Goldspin as the driver, each more careful to fasten their seatbelts this time. Something was amiss, though. Where once had been an empty socket on the ceiling was now a folded rectangle.

Cap’n was about to mention it, but was interrupted by Goldspin turning the ignition key. The moment the engine spun up, the screen extended, displaying none other than Robo’s face.

“SURPRISE, BITCHES!! I INSTALLED MYSELF IN YOUR STUPID CAR!! I’M ROBO-CAR NOW!!! TOYOTA-ROBOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!”

Caught entirely off guard, each fighter panicked in turn, but of all people, Robo extended reassurance. “Ha ha ha ha, oh my god, you guys’s faces were priceless… hoo, wow. Chill out, guys, I’m not gonna hurt you. You totes beat me back there. Pretty cheap tactics, but, ehhh, no biggie. I’m officially out of the match, now. I just thought it’d be funny as hell to spook you nerds by installing myself into your car. I’ll be tagging along from here on out, so too bad if you thought you saw the last of me!”

The fighters collectively breathed a sigh of relief. They were not in mortal danger.

“Anyway, this ride is pretty swanky. Real comfy in here. Lemme see what we got for tunes. Eugh, trash music, get this crap outta here.” The CD in the drive spat out with considerable force, impacting Cap’s face rather painfully. Goldspin chimed in sheepishly. “I didn’t wanna bring it up, but yeah, the tunes have been pretty lame.”

“Lucky for you nerds, I come with a whole library pre-installed. Get a load of this:” The video screen, sitting inconveniently in front of the rear-view mirror, changed its display to a 144p rip of a Cowboy Bebop AMV of the song “Stress” by Jim’s Big Ego. Goldspin bobbed his head, and soon Cap’n did too. It was hard to deny this was a good tune.

The Toyota cruised on into the distance, bumping rad tunes and a radder onboard AI.

---

The crew of the Toyota were cruising down a forest road, now. Their heading had been clarified thanks to the navigation software Robo had installed, and they were now headed roughly towards the centre of the battledome, where it was likely they would find Moth and her minions.

There was really rather little else to do, Robo had indicated that the simulations they’d ran suggested that most, if not all the other contenders had bitten the dust at this stage of the game, with Cap’n and co. being obvious exceptions, as well as Moth herself.

Another particularly obvious exception was Mozz, whose presence seemed to have spread across the dome during Cap’s brief interlude inside Robo’s spatial trap. It seemed that Mozz had become as frequent a sight as the decaying road signs they passed on their journey. Cap’n had lost count at 127 Mozzs.

The conversation preceding this course of action had been rather tense, on account of how conflicted the Black Rider was on the matter. It’s true that Moth now stood in their way, intending to kill Goldspin outright. If her plan came to fruition, then their mission would be a failure. They wouldn’t be able to prove, to themself or to others, that they were, in fact, stronger than Goldspin.

But, at the same time, Moth was still their hive mother, their kin. To raise a hand in violence against her would be unthinkable, after all she’d done for them. Meticulously crafting this body for them, breathing purpose into the raw material, trusting them to fulfill their mission, even in her absence, and even granting them the freedom to do so at their own discretion.

It was Cap’n that tipped the scales. They knew little of the internal experience of the kin dynamics in the solar moth species, but they had an understanding of freedom, and of trust. If the hive mother loved and cherished the Rider like it insisted she did, Cap’n reasoned, then it would respect its autonomy, and perhaps even feel a secret pride in being surpassed.

Goldspin agreed. Room to grow was important for any free life form, whether they were flesh and blood, silicon and circuits, or carapace and antislime fibre. Even if Moth rejected the Rider for their insubordination, they’d still be justified.

This seemed to calm the Rider somewhat, even if taking advice from Goldspin rubbed them the wrong way. What both Cap’n and Goldspin said rang true in the Rider’s mind. Steeling their resolve, they declared that they would march right up to the hive mother and demand to be allowed to complete their mission. If they were denied, they would demonstrate their growth firsthand, and prove that they had far surpassed even the hive mother’s expectations.

Since then, the group had been cruising along down the road. Cap’n decided to make use of the downtime to draft up a plan to deal with Mozz.

The other fighters in the car hadn’t really dedicated too much thought to Mozz, despite the worsening problem of their multiplication. Goldspin and the Rider both felt secure enough in their own strength to fight off hundreds of them with ease. Cap’n suspected, however, that this exact mentality was part of the problem.

Clearly the method was bunk, Goldspin had already used brute force to deal with Mozz in the past, and yet, their numbers had only increased. Cap’n, too, had underestimated them, seeing firsthand the regenerative capability they displayed before running into Robo distracted them from piecing the puzzle together.

The flipping pages of the Bestiary stopped on an entry detailing the properties of some forms of slimeoid life. Many possessed the ability to clone themselves by separating part of their mass, and having it regenerate into a new individual, much like a worm losing its tail.

Bingo. The common factor between their account and Goldspin’s was that neither of them had elected to fully destroy Mozz. Cap’n had merely set it on fire and severed its legs, while Goldspin presumably punched it really hard before leaving the scene.

In both cases, pieces of Mozz would have been separated from its body, which, if Cap’s theory was correct, would have regrown into fully-fledged Mozz clones.

If that was true, then the only surefire method for defeating Mozz would be total annihilation, at the cellular level. Of course, given their increasing number, it was quickly becoming untenable to incinerate each of them individually. It would simply take too long. They were going to need a better solution.

The nuclear option, then. Cap’n pulled out the spellbook and began perusing its pages. Telekinetically skimming the pages, Cap’n landed on a spell for removing the ontological concept of something from a finite space. Stuck with glue onto the page was another piece of paper, which folded out to reveal a hasty, jury-rigged magical formula for applying the spell on a universal scale, with a copy of some profane magical sigil drawn in charcoal, all of which was in Liz’s handwriting. Examining it closer, Cap’n could tell it was legit, but the shaky nature of the sigil drawing and the chicken scratch handwriting suggested she wasn’t of sound mind when writing this, and upon closer inspection the incantation invoked some pretty dangerous powers. It was more likely to backfire and erase the ontological concept of the caster than it was to actually work as intended. They folded the insert back up and focused on the original spell.

Cast correctly, the ritual would apply a magical field over the desired radius – proportional to the magical catalyst used – and essentially delete everything involved with the desired concept from existence. The target concept was represented in the ritual with a sacrifice.

So, all Cap’n needed to do was to acquire a magical catalyst of sufficient strength to increase the radius to the size of the battledome, and get their hands on some pizza to use as the sacrifice, and boom. No more Mozz. Simple enough. They filed the plan away for the moment, considering it complete, and focused once again on the present. They could deal with Mozz once the more immediate and dangerous threats were dealt with.

Moth was going to be a tough contender. Cap’n could take comfort in the fact that she’d agreed at the start of this tournament to be sporting and hold back a bit. An unbound Moth would have certainly colonized the entire battledome at this point, spreading much faster than Mozz ever could have. Still, she’d be well-guarded, and there was no telling what else she might have in store. Goldspin was in particular danger, if she’d taken Cap’s advice to heart. He didn’t seem worried, though. When asked about it, he said he would simply avoid being hit by acid, and the discussion was over.

Cap’n supposed they would have to cover for him if things went south. Cap’n took the time to prepare a few spell ideas apart from their usual repertoire. In particular, they anticipated that the “Conjure Coleslaw Golem” spell they’d come up with would prove useful. Just in case, they also alchemically prepared some deet bug repellent, in the off chance that it worked against solar moths. They certainly looked arthropodic enough, so it might work, or so Cap’n thought.

The car passed out of a forested region and into a ruined city, which looked completely deserted and sterile. Nary a dust mote or floating trash bag to be seen, it was deadly quiet apart from the sound of the engine. As they entered, the Black Rider’s antennae began to twitch rhythmically, but it was Robo who chimed in first. “Hey, you guys, I’m picking something up on the radio I think you should hear.”

Through the stereo came the sound of a voice. It spoke authoritatively, undergirded by a subtle chittering. “Calling Husk GB-01: Come home. This message will repeat.”

“That’s her.” said the Rider, looking at the stereo with an unreadable expression.

“… I traced the location of the transmission, that’s probably where Moth is.” said Robo.

The rest of the trip passed in silence as each warrior emotionally prepared themselves for the upcoming encounter in their own way.

---

Down a long straightaway, the moths’ home base came into view. In what was once a public park, what looked to be a blackened, oily shanty village had been constructed. Surrounded by a mess of sticky-looking silk threads and metal debris, coated in some kind of mold, the architecture was typical of what Cap’n knew of solar moth hive-building practices. To the Rider, the image was bittersweet. Seeing their childhood home under these circumstances was a complicated experience.

There was no visible entrance on the outside, no drawbridge or gate. That raised the question of how they were going to enter, which Goldspin quickly answered thusly:

“Bug dude, take the wheel.”

Before anyone could offer a word of protest, Goldspin began climbing out of the driver-side window, and onto the hood of the car. Planting one foot on the edge and one against the hood, seemingly undisturbed by the gale-force winds created by the car’s high speed, they held their arm out and produced a large drill, spinning it up.

“Wha- we don’t have to do this!” the Black Rider said, scrambling into the driver’s seat to prevent the car from drifting off of the road. “They’ll probably let us in if I ask, this is really extreme!”

Robo popped up on the videoscreen. “Maybe, but I kinda like it. Sends a message! I vote we punch through the wall!”

“This is not up for a vote!!” The Rider turned around. “Cap’n, help me out here!”

“I don’t know, you’re the one behind the wheel! Do something about it!”

The Rider slammed their foot on the brakes, but it didn’t budge. They could only assume Robo had taken control of the car, as the gas pedal depressed itself of its own accord.

The Toyota barrelled down the road towards the ramshackle hive, heading straight for a field of silk threads. Thinking quickly, Cap’n kicked their gauntlets into gear, touching the interior of the car and resonating the blue gem. Suddenly, it seemed as if gravity had flipped for the car, and it began to plummet upwards, carried forward by inertia. The momentum carried them over the majority of the webbed traps that lay before them. Cap’n reluctantly let go of the car, and it began to slow its ascent, before starting to drop down like an arrow loosed from a titanic bow.

They began to regret this move when it became clear they had overshot the walls by a fair bit. The car was now pitched downwards, dropping like a bomb into the center of the shanty village. Briefly, before they arrived at the ground, Goldspin got a good look at the surface stratum of the impromptu hive. Gathered below were a throng of what appeared to be Mozz clones, but their bodies seemed twisted and blackened. Then, impact.

The drill did its work, excavating large quantities of earth. The car suddenly dropped again, as Goldspin drilled through to an empty void below.

The car twisted as it fell, landing once again on all four wheels, with Goldspin standing triumphantly and casually dropping their drill off to the side. It hit the ground with a violent thud, shaking loose a black dust from the ruined ceiling. Sunlight shone from the hole above, illuminating the Toyota like a spotlight.

Meanwhile, inside the car, the air bags had triggered and both Cap’n and the Black Rider were scrambling to exit after the ordeal.

As each fighter made their exit from the car, they took in their surroundings. All around the circle of light illuminating them was an inky blackness. Below their feet, the ground was coated in a layer of some shiny black substance similar to what they saw growing on the metal plates that made up the hive’s outer perimeter. Here, it was much thicker, and dotted with small, protruding spires. Cap’n supposed they might be the fruiting bodies of the fungal mass.

Then, two sets of monochrome white eyes opened up from within the darkness. One was small, and beady, while the other was much larger. The silhouette of the moth hive mother became apparent, her wings gazing with a feral hunger at the party gathered before her. The eyes on her wings had a piercing gaze which seemed to draw in the viewer, implying greater depth within.

“My child… you’ve returned to us. Our relief is immeasurable, but… did you really have to make such a destructive entrance?”

The Rider got down on one knee. “My queen, I apologize for intruding so… unsubtly. “

The hive mother’s voice echoed like a chorus of a thousand voices, the subtle undertones of her timbre lost in the radio transmission from before resonating through Cap’s bones. “It matters not, child. Have you been harmed? Are you well?”

“No, my queen, I’m unharmed.”

“You have done so well, my child. You were even able to bring the last two enemies of the hive before me, after so much energy spent trying to root them out from their hiding place. Now we can dispose of them and be rid of the last obstacles to our victory.”

“Actually, my queen, I came here to speak to you about that.”

The hive mother slowly raised her brow. “Oh?”

“I don’t disagree that Goldspin and Cap’n are the last fighters the hive must be rid of before victory is assured. However, it was you yourself who gave me the mission to dispose of Goldspin, and I still intend to fulfill that mission personally. Cap’n alerted me that you intend to interfere with this mission and kill him yourself, but I can’t accept that. I have to prove, both to you and to myself, that I am strong enough to defeat him in a fight, on equal terms.”

Moth’s gaze turned towards Cap’n briefly before focusing back on the Goldbreaker. “The skeleton speaks truly. It provided me with the golden one’s weakness, and we intend to remove him swiftly and efficiently.”

The Rider looked determinedly at the hive mother. “My queen, I humbly request that you halt your plan and allow me to complete my mission.”

The queen moth closed her eyes in an insectoid approximation of a grimace before letting out a heavy, growling sigh. “Child, you frustrate us immensely. We cherish you as a member of the hive, and we wish not to sully the gift of free will we have bestowed on you, but you must know this is folly. You force us to choose between the safety of a valued hive member and their autonomy, do you realize this?”

“I know you may think my request foolish or frivolous, my queen, but Goldspin is mine to fight. I must surpass him, on my own terms.”

Goldspin raised an arm in support. “You tell her, dude!”

He was met by a loud, violent hiss from the moth queen, before she returned her attention to the Rider. “Is this truly your wish? Can you not be swayed?”

The Rider took one long look back at Goldspin. He gave a thumbs up as the sun glinted through the ceiling on his emerald glasses.

“It has to be me, my queen.”

The hive mother sighed. “Then you leave me no choice. I will grant your request. You shall have your fair fight with Goldspin. I cannot, however, restrain myself against Captain Metalhead over there.” A long, clawed finger pointed towards the robed skeleton.

Their eyes widened. “Aww, come on.”

The Rider looked back and forth between the two, before shrugging sheepishly at Cap’n.

“This mess is all your fault. You just had to go and trample all over my plans, and stick your nose into business that didn’t concern you. Look at what you’ve done! My own progeny openly rebels against my plans. I respect husk GB-01’s wishes, as I do for all my children blessed with wills of their own, but I cannot forgive setting back my plans, and fostering this kind of behavior. I mean, for hive’s sake, a friendly rivalry? You went and ruined my element of surprise, and fostered a friendly rivalry between my own creation and the enemy? You’ve squandered my goodwill, Captain. I was originally going to incorporate you into this hive, an honor you clearly didn’t comprehend the significance of. I’ve been exceedingly generous, but that stops now. You are spare parts. I will administer your punishment personally.”
“Hey, you leave my buddy Cap’n alone, they know lots of stuff and let me drive their cool car!” shouted Goldspin, pointing dramatically at the silhouette-less eyes in the dark.

“Silence, machine. You have a battle to lose.” The sounds of two shelled fingers snapping filled the chamber, and a multitude of eyes opened, filling the darkness with constellations of unearthly light. The skittering sounds of insect legs carried a small horde of mutant creatures into a rough circle around Goldspin and the Black Rider, hemming them in and creating a crude fighting ring.

Upon closer inspection, within the masses of bladed limbs and moldy carapaces could be seen fragments of mozzarella and pizza crust, grown over with the fungal mass that coated the chamber walls.

“I may limited by sportsmanship to a small handful of husks, but no such limits exist for the number of thralls I may take. Even if I was under such a constraint, the pizza beast still counts as one fighter, despite its multitudes. Their minds are also especially pliable… certainly a useful resource. Now, with that distraction out of the way…”

The thud of the hive mother’s clawed foot could be felt under Cap’s feet as she dismounted from her inky black throne, invisible in the dark. Her form came into sharp relief as she stepped into the light. She stood over a full head taller than Cap’n, and her wings were resplendent in their horrifying beauty. There was a madness in the eyespots on her wings as they fixed their gaze on Cap’n, and the mouths on her hindwings gnashed hungrily.

“To think I ever considered extending an alliance to you, however temporary. Duplicitous rat… I’ll make this hurt.”

Goldspin hollered over the chittering mass of zombified Mozz clones. “You got, this Cap! Give her everything you’ve got! If you need me, I’ll be over here fighting with the Black Rider.”

Cap’n nodded and turned to Moth. “I’m not going down without a fight.”

“Good. It wouldn’t be satisfying if you didn’t struggle.”

Moth kneeled down, and the pupils of her eyespots widened to allow a pair of mantis-like husks to pass through from some unknown space into the black chamber. Their limbs like sabres, they glared unblinkingly with their compound eyes at Cap’n.

Cap’n brandished their spell tome, holding it telekinetically above them, and took aim at the two bugs with their finger, before using the same “finger gun” technique they’d used on Robo previously to fling the blade-armed husks away with two quick blasts.

Moth’s eyes widened. “When did you learn to do that?”

“On a road trip.” Cap’n responded, smirking. They produced two small styrofoam cups filled with coleslaw they’d prepared on the ride over from their inventory, horking one down in a single swallow and throwing the other down onto the ground. On the spot where it landed, Cap’n drew a sigil, burning it into the mold-covered ground with a ray of heat from their gauntlets before spitting into it and uttering a guttural incantation.

The upended container of coleslaw quickly began to pulsate and grow before surging to life as a golem of cabbage, dripping with vinegar and mayonnaise. It roared with new life, and directed its ire at Moth.

“Thralls! Swarm it!” At Moth’s command, a group of surplus Mozz zombies detached from the impromptu battle arena and began to dogpile the slaw golem, smothering it like a swarm of bees. The fungal mass which coated their bodies reacted violently on contact with the slaw, but the mass of bodies pressing down on the cabbage creature was too great nonetheless, and it was incapacitated. “A clever move, but you didn’t really think I’d failed to anticipate coleslaw, did you?”

“Tch!” Cap’n grit their teeth. They’d hoped their coleslaw golem gambit would have had more of an effect. Brute force would have to win the day, then. They equipped their flaming sword once more, and it surged to life with all the vigor of a rocket engine in the Chatoyant Hands.

The blue glow of the flame made uncanny reflections on Moth’s carapace, and partly illuminated more of the chamber, revealing translucent pods containing the remains of several of the other fighters in the tournament.

“Get a good look with that candle of yours, it’ll give you a glimpse of your future.” Suddenly, from below, a clawed hand seemed burst from the ground, swiping upwards at Cap’s chin, and barely missing due to Cap’s reflexes. “But don’t get too distracted!”

Moth charged at Cap’n in a full run before sending out a flying roundhouse kick. Cap’n attempted to parry with their free hand, but the incoming shin plate opened up to reveal a mouth with far too many teeth for their liking. It sank its many fangs into their arm painfully before the blue Chatoyanite in Cap’s gloves activated, reversing the bite force and pushing it away. Green slime oozed from the wound for a moment, until the teal crystal began to glow, sealing the holes.

This is starting to go south really fast, Cap’n thought. They needed a distraction.

Summoning Gannon from within the Book of Koridai, Cap’n issued a single command. “FIRE EVERYTHING!!!”

Gannon obliged as best they could, loosing a torrent of black magics towards Moth. Before they could reach their target, however, Moth’s silhouette suddenly melted and vanished, leaving only empty space for the magic attack to collide with.

Moth reformed right behind Gannon and took hold of the Book. “No more of that, please and thank you.” Their clawed hands grew in size, dwarfing Gannon, before forcefully squashing him between the book’s covers and holding them tightly shut. They then tossed the book into their wing’s eyespots, and they disappeared into the blackness within.

“There, that’ll give the hive something interesting to chew on. Now, where were we? Oh yes, I was about to crush you into a pulp.” Their hand, still massive in size, whooshed through the air on a collision course with Cap’n.

They fired off a pre-cooked reflect spell, which absorbed the impact and delivered it back in full, sending the hand careening away. The force was such that, due to the extended and stretched nature of the limb that carried it, the hand snapped off at the wrist before landing on the ground with a wet thud, dissociating into an inky black mess.

“Ouch!! Not.” Moth’s arm quickly regrew into its original shape.

Cap’n wondered if they were in over their head. That regeneration ability is borderline unfair, they thought. I have to come up with a way to actually put pressure on Moth soon, or else I might lose control of the situation entirely. Time to get creative.

Casting another of their pre-cooked spells, a pile of aerosol cans tumbled out of a small portal above Cap’n, raining them down somewhat clumsily onto the floor, where they rolled every which way.

They spread across the floor, prompting a chuckle from Moth. “I think you fumbled that one. You seem to have cast a ‘Summon Trash Pile’ spell.”

Cap’n merely kept a stoic expression, and the gems on their gloves began to resonate. Telekinetically depressing the valves on each can, a cloud of deet-rich aerosol spread throughout the room at the same time as Cap’n affixed a piece of cloth over their mouth to limit exposure. How a skeleton like Cap’n actually breathed was a question for the scholars.

The cloud of insecticide caused a reaction almost immediately. Moth began hacking and coughing, and everywhere the cloud touched, the black coating that covered the walls of the cavern began to fizz and bubble. The assimilated portions of the Mozz clones began to weaken and drop off, and even the Black Rider wasn’t unaffected. Noticing their distress, Goldspin suggested heading outside by pointing upwards, to which the Rider nodded between coughs. The both of them jumped out of the hole in the ceiling to continue the fight outdoors.

“Eugh, what is this stuff! It smells awful!” shouted Moth.

“Bug repellent.” Cap’n replied simply, partly muffled by a layer of cloth. “150% deet.”

Cap’n rushed towards Moth, sword in hand, but was stopped by the two mantis husks, which had returned from their short, explosion-driven flight. They clearly suffered from the effects of the deet cloud, but nonetheless took the brunt of the attack, chitin scorching and boiling under the blade of Cap’s sword.

The husks fell, but they bought Moth enough time to start flapping their wings, sending the cloud of poisonous spray wafting to the other end of the cavern. An oily layer still stuck to any surface it touched, emanating a bitter stench, but the danger it presented had subsided.

Cap’n swore under their breath. Acting quickly before the moment passed, they aimed hastily with their free hand, hoping to fire off some explosions and disorient Moth further. The first few shots went wide, before one which should have been a direct hit on the wings appeared to have no effect, that is, until a cloud of smoke and a delayed shockwave issued from within the eye itself.

That one must have landed in the weird impossible space she’d drawn those mantises from, Cap’n thought. Adjusting their aim a bit more, this time they hit their mark. Moth was toppled onto the ground, but seemed to melt and disappear again.

Cap’n had seen this trick before. They focused their intent and the purple Chatoyanite on their glove shone bright.

They appeared just behind Moth as she reformed herself behind where Cap’n had stood. In her moment of confusion, Cap’n swung their burning blade into her side.

Moth screeched in agony before her limbs reversed their orientation and clutched Cap’n in a chokehold. They were forced to let go of the sword by her unearthly grip, but before anymore damage could be done, Cap’n teleported away, leaving her empty-handed.

“You can create explosions from nothing, you can summon things from nowhere, you can teleport… What did you gain on that road trip???”

Cap’n didn’t offer a response, catching their breath from the chokehold they’d just escaped.

Moth took the opportunity to extricate the blade from her torso, which had reverted to its original state, smouldering with a low, orange flame. She flung it into her left wing’s mouth, which chewed it up into a mess of tattered metal ribbons. “I destroyed your sword. What now??”

Cap’n looked up at Moth and whipped out their sidearm: Olive’s chainsaw. The orange crystals imbued into the teeth resonated with the corresponding Chatoyanite on the Chatoyant Hands as Cap’n pulled the drawstring, spinning up its engine.

The chainsaw whirred to life, spinning faster, faster, ever faster, until the thing spun so fast that the very air whistled as it was cut by the orange teeth, passing in a blur leaving behind a glowing trail of solid orange.

“…Alright then.”

Cap’s eyes burned with adrenaline, and they suddenly vanished in a purple flash. The high-pitched whine of the chainsaw echoed through the chamber from behind Moth for an instant before she bent over at an unnatural angle to avoid the sideways swing of Cap’s strike.

She attempted a counterattack by sending another punch across the surface of the floor, coming upwards at an oblique angle, but it impacted the debris shield on the chainsaw as Cap’n moved to block the attack, the blue gem on their gloves shining as the impact force was redirected.

They pressed the advantage by going after the limb the fist was attached to, which was instantly reduced to a black mist by the speed of the spinning sawteeth.

Moth’s mandibles clicked together angrily. The awful smell of the bug repellent was getting to their head, it was maddeningly annoying. Their reflexes were beginning to suffer, but they kept their focus on destroying Cap’n.

Just then, a hand of cabbage plunged through the pile of Mozz clones off to the side of the room. The bug spray had weakened them enough that the coleslaw golem had been able to come loose from the mess, and it was beginning to free itself.

A single eyespot on their wings noticed this, and if not for it catching this event in its peripheral vision, Moth might have missed it entirely. They spat and swore under their breath in a violent patois of chittering insectoid sounds and English words.

Noticing an opportunity, Cap’n freed one of their hands from the handles on the chainsaw to fire off more explosions. Moth was forced to her knees, buying Cap’n time to telekinetically pull the golem out of the pile. Free from the mess of mutated bug limbs, it lumbered over to where Moth stood.

She hissed angrily and shifted into a black puddle, oozing some distance away from Cap’n before reforming, this time with a set of glands grafted to her arm. Concentrated, burning acid spewed from them in a thin jet towards Cap’n. If they’d had time to analyze the substance, they would have found it was similar to the chemical spray used by bombardier beetles.

Moving hastily, Cap’n raised the chainsaw into the path of the spray, but this merely changed the directed stream into a chaotic explosion of droplets, which flew in every direction, some landing on the golem, some landing on Cap’s robes and exposed skin, where it smoldered and fizzed, and some onto Moth herself, where it harmlessly slid off her carapace before fizzling on the ground.

Gritting their teeth through the pain, Cap’n raised their gloved hand and focused their intent.

This time, it was Moth who disappeared in a blinding flash of purple light. She was deposited directly in front of the coleslaw golem, who promptly wrapped its arms around Moth. Where the slaw made contact with chitin, the spectral makeup of the armor screeched and hissed, burning with all the force of an exorcism performed by the Pope.

Moth screeched in agony, and attempted to wriggle out of the golem’s grip. Cap’n would only get one chance.

They booked it towards the hive mother, before leaping and plunging the chainsaw towards her torso.

A pair of arms grew out of the surface of her chest and caught the sides of the chainsaw, feebly trying to slow the saw’s approach. The two struggled for a few agonizing moments, neither able to overcome the strength of the other under the circumstances, until Cap’s glove resonated with an orange glow.

Moth’s arms shook as they tried to resist the increasing force, but to no avail. Black, inky material spewed in all directions as the saw made contact, sinking into first her chest, and then climbing up through her head to exit the top of her skull. Cap’n, breathing heavily and absolutely covered with jet black hemolymph, stepped off of the limp body in the hands of the golem, dismissing it with a gesture, causing it to dissociate into an inert pile of wet cabbage.

As they turned, they were met with the figure of Mothcat, sitting placidly in front of them. The Chatoyant Hands glowed in every color, the heliotrope infused into the runic circuitry seemingly agitated.

Mothcat’s voice reverberated through every cell in Cap’s body. “Not bad at all. You managed to defeat my vessel. But, know this: if not for the rules of this game, you would have been converted into something useful for the hive back when I discovered you on that mountain. Consider this my congratulations for putting up such a good struggle…”

Then, the Mothcat sauntered off into the inky darkness, its silhouette disappearing from view.

Cap’n would have celebrated, but the hectic battle had drained them, and the unsettling parting words Mothcat had left them with brought on a cold sweat. They walked unsteadily back to the car, falling into the driver’s seat in a heap.

“That was HARD FUCKIN CORE, Cap. I could do without you getting bug guts on my upholstery, though. Anyway, do that fancy glove magic and get me out of this grody hole already.”

---

When Cap’n arrived back on the surface in the Toyota-Robo, they found the two warriors, bound by fate to do battle, in much the same way as they’d found them before: in the “slugfest” stage of their duel. This was a late-stage slugfest, though. Both fighters looked to be at the end of their ropes, each staggering back several steps before unsteadily righting themselves and putting their full weight into the next punch.

The area was littered with drills, converted patches of ground that looked like golden puddles, and bizarre eddy currents in the blackened dirt, mingling with scorched craters.

“Oooohh shit, Cap’n I think this is it! They’re about to go for the cross counter!!”

Sure enough, both fighters regarded each other for a moment, each sizing the other up from their disoriented state, before letting out a battlecry and charging in with one final punch.

Both fists brushed up against each other as they passed through the air, and both found their target on the opponent’s jaw.

The two fighters each staggered back several steps, their armor cracked and mangled, before stopping themselves, clearly with herculean effort.

Each stared back at the other as they struggled to maintain their balance, the Rider through their scuffed-up compound eyes, and Goldspin over their cracked glasses.

For a moment, it seemed as if time stood still, the only thing marking its passage being the breeze blowing on the dusty earth.

And then the Black Rider crumpled, falling to their knees and collapsing on the ground.

Goldspin limped over to their prone body. Robo gaped at the scene through the video screen. “Yooo, is he gonna finish him, Mortal Kombat style? Stone cold…”

Robo thought wrong. Goldspin reached down to the Rider, extending their hand. “Better luck next time?”

The Rider struggled to look up at Goldspin, their gaze unreadable as they considered his words.

A long moment passed before they grasped Goldspin’s hand, conceding defeat and mutual respect. The Rider staggered to their feet, aided by Goldspin, not triumphant, but nonetheless steadfast.

Goldspin pressed something into their hands. It was a pair of green sunglasses, cracked and worn. The Rider looked back up at Goldspin’s scratched-up face plate to see a pristine pair sitting on the end of their nose.

They clenched their fist, before silently bowing. “Until we meet again, Goldspin.”

The Black Rider limped, glasses in hand, towards the edge of the ruined shanty village, where Mothcat was sitting placidly next to a rift in space. It regarded the Goldbreaker silently with equal pride and concern before the both of them left the scene, the portal closing behind them.

Goldspin stood silently for a while, in quiet repose, before himself shambling towards the Toyota.

His trip was cut short. In an instant, a pencil-thin lance of blinding white energy issued forth from behind a piece of sheet metal with a loud ‘SPAK’ sound, piercing Goldspin’s cranium. Where the beam passed, the metal instantly began to glow yellow, then white, liquefying and spreading apart in a wide radius, effectively vaporizing Goldspin’s head. The beam continued on its path, giving the same treatment to the metal plating forming the walls of the shanty hive, and careening onward to the husk of a skyscraper, leaving melted, circular holes large enough to walk through.

Goldspin crumpled to the ground in a heap.

Toyota-Robo and Cap’n were left speechless. A maniacal laugh issued from the source of the beam, carrying itself into view.

It was Dan, seemingly back from the dead! He tossed a small, pistol-like weapon over their shoulder, the cylindrical cartridge extending from the top empty and smoking, while scrambling towards Goldspin’s limp body.

He seemed absolutely elated, on top of the world. He looked terrible, however. His bright orange coat was in tatters, the colors faded, and his goggles cracked, giving a viewer a clear look at the mad glint in his eyes.

Eldritch runes coated his exposed skin, which was pale and haggard. Additionally, a single demonic horn was poking out of his hair, and his hands ended in blackened claws instead of fingertips. As he howled and laughed, his sharpened canine teeth could be clearly seen.

He slid on his knees towards Goldspin, before ripping into his metal frame with sharp claws, peeling the metal armor back with unearthly strength. Twisted plates of golden metal were flung this way, and that, until Goldspin’s core, still glowing weakly with a warm light, was exposed to the air.

It was too late for anyone to intervene. Dan tore the core free from its housing and unhinged his jaw in a gruesome display, swallowing the Golden Core whole in a single, titanic gulp.

Almost immediately, his body began to glow with a golden light. It seemed as if all the air in the shanty hive began to move in lockstep, swirling around Dan in a spinning vortex. His unhinged laughter increased in intensity as the thing previously known as Dan turned its gaze on Cap’n.

A few things immediately became apparent to Cap’n in that moment. The first was that they really should have anticipated Dan surviving their assault on the mountain. The second was that Dan was acting rather out of character, likely a result of some negative mental influence or another, almost certainly of supernatural origin. The third was that the runes on his skin reminded them of the strange symbols hanging over that blighted region they’d driven by previously, connecting this phenomenon with Thinbug. In what way, they couldn’t be certain.

The fourth was that they just might be royally fucked.

The Chatoyant Hands surged to life as they squared up, with no time to equip a weapon as Dan catapulted himself off the ground towards Cap’n.

Cap’n deftly dodged a swipe from Dan’s claws, but was swept off their feet by a sudden force like a rug being pulled out from under them. Right, Cap’n thought. He’s got The Spin now.

Cap’n hit the ground with a thud, but converted the motion with orange Chatoyanite to send them bouncing away from Dan, giving them just enough time to right themself and parry another attack.

It impacted their left arm, which took the blow quite well, except for the sudden wrenching force that jolted through their bones, shattering their forearm from within.

The extreme pain stopped Cap’n dead for a moment before the teal crystal kicked in, mending the bone in record time, but leaving them feeling nauseous. They couldn’t let that happen again.

Another blow incoming, Cap’n raised their fist to block it, focused this time. They weren’t sure if this would work, but there was no time for experimentation.

Channeling counter-clockwise rotational force through the orange crystal, Cap’s fist impacted Dan’s, and a peculiar thing happened.

The blow stopped dead, all momentum cancelled out. Dan looked bewildered for a moment before swinging again. Cap’n parried the same way, the opposite rotational force cancelling out all Spin energy within the attack and sapping its momentum.

Cap’s eyes burned with adrenaline as they reached into their inventory hastily for a weapon. Out came Olive’s chainsaw, which swung wildly as Cap’n pressed the advantage.

A kick from Dan, on the defensive, impacted the side of the saw. All of a sudden, the teeth halted in place, and the gears of the chainsaw ground with an angry howl of mechanical agony before halting for good. No matter how Cap pulled on the ripcord, the thing wouldn’t start again. Dan had halted the saw’s mechanical action by applying a counter-spin, the force of which shredded the gearing system, rendering the weapon useless.

Cap’n angrily threw the thing to the ground in front of them and brandished Olive’s trusty baseball bat. In her hands, it had been a useful weapon for KO’ing her opponents. In the Chatoyant Hands, though, it shone with a blazing orange light, the Chatoyanite resonating between the glove and bat. Cap’n gave it a test swing, and the resulting force halted the swirling wind spiralling around Dan, sending a massive gust which buffeted them as if they were in a wind tunnel. Ohhhh, this will do nicely. Cap’n thought.

Cap’n raised their free hand, beckoning Dan to come and get them, if he could.

He bared his teeth, too long for a human mouth, and spun in a whirlwind kick towards Cap’n.

Cap’n focused their intent and the purple gem on their glove resonated. Faster than Dan could see, Cap’s hand reached out and grasped his foot before it could impact its target, Cap’s sharp-nailed fingers digging into his tattered boots.

Cap’n slammed Dan into the ground by his foot, gloves glittering like a rainbow. They wound up the bat, and brought it crashing down onto Dan.\

The impact was felt as far away as the buildings in the distance, whose windows vibrated with the shock. When the dust settled, Cap’n stood in a massive crater, cracked and rubble-strewn. The Toyota was upside down in a mess of sheet metal, and Dan himself was right at the epicenter, somehow still alive. Through sheer force of strength he had caught the bat prior to its impact on his body, and his arms shook as he held it in place.

Cap’s eyes widened before glowing with rage. They wrenched the bat out of Dan’s hands and swung again, sending another explosion of dust and debris in all directions.

Again and again, they swung the bat, more like a sledgehammer than a tool for sportsball, and each time Dan struggled feebly under the assault, catching the bat in its path before it could smash fully into him. With each impact, the blackened, rigid layer that covered his clawed fingers grew more to encompass first his forearms, then his elbows, and eventually his entire arms.

The ground caved in, unable to bear the stress, and the pair plummeted into the cavern below, now fully illuminated by the light of the sun to reveal the melted, oily remains of everything the mold touched. Robo was partly buried somewhere in the rubble.

“RRRRrrrghh!!! Why won’t you die?!?!”

Cap’n went in for another swing, this time going for a sideways swipe to catch Dan off guard. Anticipating another crushing blow, he put his arms out, but the bat caught the side of his arms, shattering them into sharp fragments which embedded themselves into the cave wall with a sound like a million nails being hammered in.

Dan growled and spat a hunk of noxious goo at Cap’s eye, sending them reeling back. He struggled to his feet before charging into Cap’n, winding his head back, and whacking Cap’s skull with his own.

Cap’n careened through the air, sliding along the ground before coming to a stop, aided by the sudden appearance of the cave’s outermost wall. They coughed up some slime before quickly struggling to their feet, shaking their head in an attempt to regain some composure that only resulted in a worse headache.

How the hell did he get back up from that??? Cap’s mind boggled at Dan’s persistence. Cap’n needed to wrap this battle up quickly. Looking down at their feet, they spotted their spellbook. They stomped their foot, the Chatoyanite-enhanced impact catapulting it into their hand.

The pages flipped themselves like a whirlwind, and Cap’n began chanting an infernal incantation. Sigils appeared all along the cavern’s walls, in a variety of colors, while the Chatoyant Hands cast their prismatic light across the cave.

Dan booked it at a full sprint towards Cap’n, crossing a third of the cavern in mere moments.

Cap’n spoke the incantation a little faster as Dan bore down on them. Their eyes locked on to Dan, and they finished their spell.

“INFINITE CRYSTAL PRISON, MOTHERFUCKER!”

A pink light gathered around Dan as he continued running towards Cap’n. He was mere centimetres away when his entire body was encased in transparent pink gemstone, its facets giving uncanny reflections of Dan’s enraged visage. The crystal floated inches off of the ground, levitating under its own power. Cap’n moved uneasily around it, seeing Dan’s eyes frozen in their gaze towards where Cap’n once stood.

“I hate to give you the Galacta Knight treatment like that, ol’ buddy, but a skeleton’s gotta do what a skeleton’s gotta do.”

Cap’n felt smug and satisfied about their one-liner for precisely a moment before the gravity of the entire encounter hit them like a ton of bricks. They stumbled for a moment, disoriented by the combined post-adrenaline rush and the head trauma of Dan’s direct headbutt attack.

They limped over to the center of the cavern, and drew a crude circle in the mushy black substance on the floor, which stuck to their finger. They then got up and shuffled over to one of the still-twitching Mozz mutants, crushed under rubble, and tore off an exposed bit of non-mold-eaten pizza. They carried it back to their circle, tossed it in the center, and placed Olive’s essence jar next to it. “Catalyst… check. Sacrifice… check. Let’s hope this works.”

Crossing their arms over the circle in a standing position, they recited the incantation they’d memorized for the spell. The pizza within the circle burned with an unearthly blue flame, while the jar glowed, resonating with the magics at work.

A wave of magical energy radiated out from the circle, slowly at first, but quickly speeding up until it exited the chamber entirely.

As it passed, all signs of pizza and pizza-adjacent materials vanished without a trace. Mozzarella cheese, pepperoni, crust… even pizza iconography and branding on decaying billboards and buildings was wiped clean, throughout the whole battledome.

Suddenly, party horns sounded and a cloud of confetti fell slowly like falling leaves around Cap’n. A voice the location of which Cap’n couldn’t place rang out. “CONGRAAAAAATULATIONS!! YOU WIN DA PRIZE!”

All around them appeared their friends and fellow Based Ones, applauding in celebration.

“Congratulations!” said Liz.

“Congratulations!” said Dan, back to normal and freed from his crystal prison.

“CONGRATULATIONS, MY MASTER!” said Gannon, projecting from the Book of Koridai on the floor.

“Congratulations!” said Moth and the Goldbreaker.

“Bleeeehhhhh…!” said Moshgrave, who did not appear in this story.

“Congratulations!” Said Goldspin, their head and glasses fully intact.

Each fighter in their turn offered congratulations, before the unknown voice spoke again. “WHAT… IS YOUR WISH?”

Cap’n thought for only a moment before replying. “I wish…!”

---

The salty aroma of the sea carried itself on the wind into Cap’s skeletal nostrils. Glittering in the light of the rising sun, the ocean greeted the prow of the ship with open arms, carrying it on the waves towards parts unknown.

Cap’n breathed deeply, taking in the scene. They checked their compass. Their heading was set. Turning the rudder towards adventure, and opening the sails to catch the winds of destiny, Cap’n Metalhead sailed, for the first time.

They shout out out for all the world to hear. “I’m Cap’n Metalhead, and I’m going to be King of the Pirates!!!”