Mudslide [quest]

[Roy Mustang]

“Lieutenant Colonel,” Lieutenant Hawkeye entered the office with her usual promptness, “I think you’ll need to take a look at this urgently, sir.”

Mustang swiveled his chair away from the window, regarding the officially sealed document in her hands with a dour expression. He pushed aside a stack of transport requisition forms, covering a communicator that was linked to Scarlet team’s chatter as they cleaned up from their positions outside the spaceport. He would have to remember to check where Orion had ended up going with that fellow. Hawkeye’s face was impassive as he took the sealed envelope, but the colonel gave a despondent exhale as he looked at the office of origin.

“Who in R&D has the kind of pull that they’re giving me orders, Lieutenant?”

“Senior researcher Iness Apophis, sir. No obvious reasons for why she’s reaching out to us sir. One of her subordinates was the one who supplied us with the Noqual-mesh, so it’s possible that’s how she got the information, but the timing is unusual to say the least.”

“Seems like you’re getting popular, Lieutenant Colonel!” Second Lieutenant Breda remarked from his desk with a bit of a smirk.

Mustang glanced through the order with a frown. The order wasn’t even a mission, he was just being told to speak with her at his earliest convenience. He didn’t have time for politics and pandering, and this particular document was reeking of it. At the same time, he couldn’t afford any ill-will from someone in the upper echelons of Cytokine without exceptional reasons. This was an opportunity to sidestep a potential opposition in the future.

He pushed back from his desk and got to his feet.

“Yes, it seems I’m being asked to make a house call. Make sure none of our special guests cause any trouble while I’m away.”

---​

Mustang stepped into the laboratory observation room with a hardened expression. Despite its inopportune timing, this was likely to be an important discussion, assuming the planet survived long enough for his ambitions to even matter. Dr Apophis was down in the facility below, hunched over the shining blue form of a dead Akata that lay sprawled on the work table in the middle of the room. The streaks of purple that blotched the beast’s characteristically monochrome skin left little to guess on the reason for her study. Mustang nodded to one of the nearby technicians then reached for the comms.

“Dr., with all due respect, it is considered highly inadvisable to be so close to an unmade being for long lengths of time. Even when it is deceased.”

Dr. Apophis straightened up. She turned to face the observation window, though her face shielding prevented him from seeing her expression.

“I was on the team of scientists who proposed that directive to begin with, Lieutenant Colonel. If we’re to learn anything about how to counter this disassemblation process we need to understand how it works more thoroughly. Give me a moment to decontaminate and I’ll be right out to speak with you.”

Not the most encouraging of first exchanges.

Mustang nodded and proceeded out of the observation room. As he waited in the hallway he considered the likely trajectories of the approaching conversation. Senior Researcher Iness Apophis was a power player in the scientific branch of Cytokine. Born to high ranking nobility she had received the finest education Markov could provide, and had gone on to make notable improvements in the city’s zone reclamation machinery, as well as improved weaponry for Cytokine’s mechanized warriors. Her rank was officially military, but she had a much larger sway within Cytokine’s jurisdiction than even Mustang’s superior officer, potentially even a personal connection to Aaria herself if rumors were to be believed. She was not a woman to be making an enemy of.

Dr Apophis stepped out of the chamber-lock with a datapad in hand. Mustang stood at parade rest. He wasn’t under express orders to report to her, so it would be better to keep his pride held close to the chest for the time being. Dr. Apophis scribbled something in the data pad, then turned to Mustang with an appraising glance.

“So, you’re the one who keeps hounding after those unmade bastards? I thought your branch was focused on police work.”

Mustang blinked casually, ignoring the underlying question for a direct response.

“The planet isn’t secure yet, Ma’am. I find it difficult to spend as much time hunting criminals when the planet is barely clinging to life.” He answered with a nod.

“Quite.” Dir Apophis tucked the datapad under her arm and removed her glasses. She cleaned one of the lenses with a cloth as she spoke.

“It’s certainly high-profile work, these missions. From what I hear your name is being passed around for a promotion, even though you only became a lieutenant colonel a few years back.”

Mustang kept his face impassive, trying to read her mannerisms. She certainly spoke like someone who was more accustomed to giving directions than to dialogue, but instinctively he doubted that such a famously scientific mind would be looking for yes-men.

“I would be honored to receive such attention, Ma’am.” He replied reservedly.
“Oh yes I can imagine so! You’re well positioning yourself to be the new face of Markov’s defenders with your recent parade of posturing!”

Ah. So that was going to be her angle on the situation.

“Has there been a problem, ma’am?” Mustang raised an eyebrow, keeping his tone neutral, and taking shelter behind the shield of decorum. If she wanted to make accusations in a public venue, he would make sure she adhered to the same levels of propriety.

“I’ve no problem with your leveraging our planet’s misfortune, Lieutenant Colonel. Your little stunt back on Naussica showed up the ARC quite handily I think. However, there are some people who are beginning to question that you are acting in Cytokine’s, in Markov’s interests. Wondering if you aren’t just off on your own personal crusade. After all, we can’t have all of our rising young stars going rogue while Cevanti continues to hang by a thread.”

“I quite agree.” Mustang answered with a furrowed brow, “Though I hardly think my actions draw anywhere close to the behavior of Saren, Ma’am.”

“Oh of course not, Lieutenant Colonel. Nevertheless there are concerns.”

“And I suppose that my presence has been requested so that I might have the opportunity to quiet those concerns?”

“Mmm, now that’s a thought worth pursuing! Assuage people’s worries with a show of good faith! I can perhaps be of some assistance to you here, Lieutenant Colonel. As it happens I need a fresh shipment of Akatan biosteel. Most of our usual methods for acquiring the stuff have been well skewered by the unmaking at this point.”

She snapped her fingers.

“Oh! Speaking of! Make sure you get clean specimens. The unmade ones don’t process the organic steel the same way, and we’re still assessing whether or not it’s a viable alternative material in that state.”

“I can’t say I’d recommend trying use the unmaking, Ma’am.” Mustang commented dryly.

“Which is why you are a soldier and I am a researcher, Lieutenant Colonel.” Dr. Apophis remarked casually, “You solve that little issue for me and I’ll make sure to quell the more concerned members of our company about your antics, mmm?”

It was tantamount to a bribe, but Mustang wasn’t really in the position to argue.

“I’ll have some of my men start to-” he began, but Dr. Apophis spoke over him.

“It would look better if you led the effort personally, I should think. Make it clear to everyone watching who’s needs your putting first. Maybe take one of your pets along to show that they’re willing to actually assist the city rather than just glory hounding.” She eyed Mustang over the top of her glasses with a faint smirk.

“...Right.” Mustang responded levelly.

Either this woman was just an extremely abrasive person or she was trying to provoke him into some kind of reaction. It seemed unlikely that someone as connected as Dr. Apophis would really have such a shallow assessment of the cast of outsiders he had been operating with recently. The officer in Mustang wanted to argue on behalf of his men, but any soldier worth his salt knew this was a time to let himself be the dog. His aims were too high to let himself be derailed by a few barbs.

“I’ll see to it myself that we have them acquired within forty-eight, Ma’am.”

“Oh wonderful!” Dr. Apophis nodded without nearly as much enthusiasm as her words implied, “I need to be getting back to that dissection, but I am quite glad we had a chance to chat. Keep up the good work, Lieutenant Colonel.”

With a wave summary to a dismissal, she re-entered the chamber-lock. Mustang rubbed at his temple with a faint grimace, stepping around a pair of scientists and heading back towards the office. As if countering the unmaking of the very planet wasn’t hard enough, now he was tangling with biting, steely-skinned beasts.

And Akata too.

 

[Roy Mustang]

Mustang stepped along the catwalk with an air of relaxed pursuit. Jodie wasn’t the most popular of the hanger techs in Cytokine’s employ, but she knew the comings and goings of the more exotic mechs and ships that came through the place. He had already checked her pet project, but the old model walker was still hanging suspended in the corner, which meant that Jodie was on the floor, or rather, above it.

He found the grease-smeared woman arguing acridly with a datapad. He stepped to one side, poking idly at a crate full of unfamiliar metallic components as he waited. She glanced up at him, making an obscene gesture in response to his smile and wave, which only caused Mustang to laugh. After a few more gravelly barks into the datapad, Jodie slammed it down onto her workbench with a fervor that made a few of the passing technicians wince.

“You’re looking lively as ever, Jodie!” Mustang commented with a smirk.

She stormed over to the State Alchemist, snatching the metal item from his hands.

“Stop that, Roy.” she snapped, “What do you want, then? You here to check on your pets?”

“That’s a rude way to think of them.” Mustang’s tone was far more curious than judgmental.

“The little one gets mad if I try to treat the two of them like people.” Jodie shrugged, “Makes a point out of claiming their not beings like us or some shit. She keeps requesting more and more components for the repairs too, by the way. Gets all uppity when I tell her those things don’t exist here, like I’m holding up her work intentionally. Believe you me, I’d have them fixed up and out of my hair as soon as possible, but the big one’s missing some things that I haven’t even heard of before and they’ve got to improvise.”

“I see.” Mustang frowned faintly, “Improvising doesn’t strike me as either of their strong suits.”

Jodie snorted, “Oh it isn’t. You know the number of times I’ve been yelled at by a sprite robot for being part of a backwater luddite society these last few weeks? There ain’t a place in the Crossroads with better tech than we have here on Cevanti!”

“What about the tech we used to have here on Cevanti?”

Jodie glared at him for that particular bit of snark, but Mustang just gave her an easy smile in response.

“Thanks for keeping an eye on them for me, Jodie. I appreciate it.” He handed over a datachip of credits, which she took without further complaint.

“Don’t see why you’re still indulging the little gremlin. The war-mech might be totalled at this point. You’d learn more from taking them apart for analysis, I say. Less of a headache for certain.”
Mustang smirked faintly.

“I’m not sure we’re in quite that desperate a situation yet.”

Seeming to find their conversation over, Jodie strode back towards her workbench. She swept up her datapad as she walked away, raising it towards her ear.

“You done crying for your mama and ready to actually work with me here?” She barked into the device. The rest of her conversation faded into the shouting and machinery of the hanger.

Mustang leaned over the railing of the hanger bay, frowning. Ashe-0 was in poor shape yet again. It was obvious by now that she’d taken some serious damage holding their defensive line during the assault on Saren’s compound. She was in a low power state right now, and had been for the past two weeks. FAISE hovered around her, moving to and fro as she affected the repairs. The occasional shower of sparks or flashing light of a scan accompanied her efforts.

Presently, as Mustang watched from the catwalk, the floating repair bot stopped her work. Without having even looked up at him beforehand, she flew directly up towards him, closing the distance more quickly that he would have suspected. Mustang blinked in mild surprise, he hadn’t even thought she’d noticed his presence. She paused there, hovering in the air with her arms crossed.

“Does a lieutenant colonel have no more pressing duties to perform than watching the repair of a single soldier?”

“As it happens, FAISE, I was curious about how Ashe-0 was doing. Figured it would be better to ask you directly than send someone for a report.”

“How is she doing?” FAISE repeated, arms still crossed, “As far as her status, she weathered several full salvos from a railgun battery in the defense of your men, lieutenant colonel. And that’s on top of the host of software corruptions she’s been exhibiting since I found her.”

“Do you think she’ll be repairable?”

“I don’t work on impossible tasks.” FAISE’s response seemed entirely confident.

“Furthermore, I do not believe that you require this information for any purpose beyond your own curiosity. While Ashe-0 has elected to assist you with some operations, she is not under your jurisdiction, nor do I recommend you consider her an asset at your disposal.”

The corner of Mustang’s mouth turned downwards.

“I see.” Was all he said in reply. Better not to apply pressure and clarify the situation until Ashe-0 was present for it. The two of them seemed not to be agreed on their goals in the least. He would let FAISE dictate her version of reality for a while longer.

Besides, Ashe-0 wasn’t the only one of his “assets” that had been acting out of sorts recently.

---


“He’s doing what?” Mustang stared at Lieutenant Hawkeye incredulously. Her expression was stoic as always.

‘Chara told me when I ran into her at the shooting range. Were you expecting them to stay in the barracks, sir?” She asked with what seemed like genuine curiosity.

Mustang gave a defeated grimace. It wasn’t entirely unexpected that Hughes would have invited the Dreemurrs to stay with him, but he wasn’t entirely confident in the wisdom of the idea. He could see the line of reasoning to that result. Those two were barely more than kids at the end of the day, and civilians at that. They weren’t any more answerable to Markov’s authorities than any other citizen.

At the same time they were capable of battling the Unmaking more directly and effectively than the majority of the soldiers under Mustang’s command, if not all of them. On top of that, they had proven to be of special interest to some of the most dangerous personalities in the crossroads. The idea of them staying in a residential area long-term was not one that he particularly liked.

“I’ll need to make sure he understands what their situation is if they’re going to be staying with his family.” Mustang rubbed at his temple, trying to banish the memory of red eyes while he reached for the phone.

“Either way, I need Chara for an excursion, can you get a support team prepped for us? We’re going to be tackling an Akata target.”

“Of course, Sir.”

 

[Chara Dreemurr]

Chara leaned forward, half-falling asleep as she looked up at the Markovian daylight. There was always a thick haze towards the top of the city - it wasn’t the smog-covered, smoke-belching place people often exaggerated it to be, but it was true that there weren’t many days you were going to be able to clearly see the sky above. Despite the constant reports that it was due to the fires of industry, Chara had studied the place enough to know that much of it was just lasting damage from whatever the end had done to the atmosphere.

Despite that, for as much as Asriel had complained about it over the years, Chara found a sort of comfort in the concealing haze above them, flimsy as it was. How appropriate, she mused, that the princess of the underground felt far more comfortable with a roof above her head!

Of course, sometimes strange phenomena appeared in the sky. Right now, as she looked up, for instance, there was a shock of black clouds, alongside a peach-colored sun, shaded by the planet's rotation. Close enough that Chara felt like she could reach out a finger, and touch it…

And voila, as she did, her index finger met a rapidly reddening surface. “Oh? Sun’s not supposed to do that…” Chara mused.

“What the hell are you doing, Dreemurr?” The sun snapped, and Chara gave a sigh. “...Oh, sorry, Lieutenant-Colonel Roy Mustang.” She replied with an easy grin. “Your forehead’s rather large, so I mistook it for some kind of Celestial object. I suppose the sun wouldn’t be in that direction so early in the day, though. What a colossal slip-up on my part!”

Roy’s glare did not waver. “Answer the question. Do you have any idea how illegal what you’re doing is?”

Chara sat back in her very stretchy office chair, and looked around in mock confusion, both hands on the hastily - but finely - built stand she’d constructed.

“...I apologize, Lieutenant-Colonel Roy Mustang… I didn’t realize you wanted a hamburger so badly!” She replied with a snap of her fingers and an impish grin.

Roy leaned over the large counter she’d set up, dousing the flames of her grill with a snap of one hand as he set the other on the table. “You are a civilian, operating an illegal business selling hamburgers on a military base! Do you understand how that reflects on me?!” He asked, as Riza gave a long, withering sigh from behind.

Chara just motioned to the tables currently filled with soldiers heartily enjoying their meal, some chowing down with all the gusto of a starving Wolverine.

“...Well, that is quite the accusation, Lieutenant-Colonel Roy Mustang. Do you have any proof for either of those things?”

Mustang’s face went red. “Civilians are Not-”

“-Allowed to go on the operations we just went on, Lieutenant-Colonel Roy Mustang. Hence, I’ve technically been temporarily deputised as part of the Cevanti Military. You know, like a guard dog!.” Chara would note. “Or, that’s how the base commander clarified it when I asked a few questions.”

Chara didn’t miss the increasing shades of crimson as her own grin grew like a Cheshire cat’s.

“Of course, selling hamburgers is not really part of my official military duties, but I actually lack any of those at the moment, so I figured selling hamburgers was not a bad idea. And due to how zoning laws work, since there is no business license available for the area… I do not need to get one. So you see, I am actually fully within my rights at the moment.” Chara replied. “Of course, since I’m technically under your command, you could just tell me to stop, Lieutenant-Colonel-Roy-Mustang, and I’d be fully obliged…”

At which point, before the further enraged Mustang could reply, Chara loudly called out to the rest of the soldiers. “Sorry guys, Chief wild-horse does not care for my food. Looks like I cannot serve anything else!”

The groans, grumbles, and moans from dozens of soldiers were enough to leave even a battle-hardened veteran of Roy’s status from enraged to uncomfortable as men who had gladly put their lives on the line for him in the past now gave him a harsh stink-eye.

“I-I didn’t say that!” Roy replied, suddenly very conscious - even for a veteran, this was the type of thing to catch him by surprise.

“-so this last batch is free! Go serve yourselves up!” she added with a jovial smirk, leaving the grill open to a band of cheering soldiers. “...Now, what did you actually need?”

Roy looked about to figure out how to commit human alchemy by spontaneously combusting on the spot, before a hand fell on his shoulder, and with Riza’s reassurance, the Lieutenant-commander regained his composure.

“Come with me then, Dreemurr. You can deconstruct the stand after we’re finished talking.”

---

Once the two were further away, inside a shielded cab, Roy finally asked the question.

“What the hell are you doing, Dreemurr? Do you have any idea how far this undermines my authority? How it makes my competence look when I have this sort of clownish insubordination?”

Chara looked out the window. “I’m only technically your subordinate, Roy.”

Roy glared forward. “If you don’t explain yourself properly, you won’t be technically my subordinate.” the Lieutenant threatened. Chara doubted he truly meant the statement, but the weight behind it nonetheless stung just a little. “why?”

Chara gave a sigh. “Ironside, broadscales, Jones, and you all have one thing in common.” She replied, as Roy rolled his eyes.

“Can you explain without making it a lecture?” Roy asked.

Chara’s response was a flash of scarlet, as she summoned magic and leaned forward. “certainly.[/i]” The Youth replied in an unnatural voice, as she leaned forward, and Roy’s body stiffened again.

“That expression…” Chara replied, giving a smirk. “That is the expression of someone considering how to kill a monster, Mustang.” She replied, before leaning back, her eyes returning to their familiar hazel. “And I do not mean the race.” She added with a wry smile. “Your men have every reason to trust you. After many of them saw me with Saren? And the recent incident? They have many reasons to distrust me. Your decision to squirrel me away like a forbidden weapon has deepened those. I am a dog on your leash, Roy. If this is meant to protect me from Darkseid, it has also served to deepen the gap between us. So… I chose to use a tool Darkseid does not acknowledge. The power of good burgs, stupid jokes, and the crass back-and-forth a seedy merchant can spice one’s life up with. Someone they may wish to see alive.” She replied with an impish smile, looking at Roy and expecting a refutation.

To her mild surprise, Roy had no reply at all. It took him a few seconds before he even attempted to reply, as he seemed to be thinking something over in his head. There almost seemed to be laughter hiding behind the stern statement he had to make next. “...I don’t know what’s more ridiculous. The idea of defeating Darkseid with badly cooked cheeseburgers. Or the fact that your plans are starting to make sense to me.” He replied, as a smile started to spread across his face. “However, my problem remains. If you want to work with me, work with me.” He added with a cut tone. “I can’t expect you to act however I want you to. But I need to know, ahead of time. If you give me that from now on, it’ll be smooth sailing. If I can’t…”

Chara gave a shrug, before cutting him off. “-so, were you here to lecture me on hamburgers?” Chara asked, looking Roy up and down.

“No, I actually need you for something. A mission.”

Chara ran a hand through her hair. “...Very well. I assume the wolves have come out to try and minimize your credit?” She asked, looking Roy in the eye.

Roy’s response was a sigh. “They want me to show that we work well as a team.” He replied after a second, with an edge to his voice that let Chara know with certainty that was not the wording used. “So you and I are going to show them that. Are we clear?”

Chara gave a sigh. “Crystal. What’s the sitrep?”

1427 words

 

[Sans]

“Sir…”

* zzzzzzzzzzz

“Sir!”

* hehehehe… you wanna hear a funny…

“SIR!”

Sans suddenly snapped awake. Vision blurry, he turned his head to see a finely-uniformed and red-haired lady glaring at him with crossed arms. He shifted about, realizing he was buckled into a black-leathered seat folded all the way back for extra comfort.

* what

“The ship’s landed. You need to get out.”

* landed?

Sans glanced about. No one else sat besides him amidst the long row of leathered seats. The ship’s hull vibrated with a low hum and a set of thin, blue strips of light illuminated everything in a comforting, sleep-inducing haze. No wonder he had conked out the moment he had gotten aboard and gotten comfortable. The passenger seats were so soft and easily customizable!

“Yes, landed. Now leave before you start snoring again. We could hear it over the engine somehow. I still don’t know how that’s possible.”

* sorry, sorry. i guess you could say i… spaced out. eh?

Sans shot a pair of finger guns at the flight attendant. She didn’t respond. Her glare didn’t even flinch.

* … jeez, tough crowd.

Sans quickly unbuckled his seatbelt and slid out of the seat. He moved past the attendant as she sighed and moved to readjust his chair as he moved up the corridor. The muffled steps of his slippered feet echoed just a tiny bit as he walked down the painted arrows of the metal ship around him before finding himself at an airlocked door. He twisted the knob and opened it.

Sans coughed as the harsh taste of oily smog steadily made its way through the airlock and crawled down into his non-existent lungs. He stared out into a gray abyss of skyscrapers, each akin to a faded column that had been thoroughly greebled all around their outer textures. Bright lights eagerly flashed across every conceivable surface of the city; how anyone was supposed to get a wink of sleep in a place like this was beyond Sans’ comprehension. Black smoke arose from chimneys jutting out from factories off in the distance; they fluttered higher and higher before pushing through small, nearly imperceivable holes in the energy barrier that surrounded the entire city in pulsing, blue waves. Equally black clouds rolled out in the distance. Was it going to rain? What would even rain out here other than battery acid, anyway?

Sans made his way out of the spaceport and started to move through the large crowds of people. Never before had he seen so many people in one place. Even the Underground did not seem this crowded and clogged as this place, this City of Markov, where Darkseid and his forces had threatened and almost toppled. If it wasn’t for the gloom that hung over every civilian, Sans almost wouldn’t have believed he wasn’t walking through a dying city in a dying world.

Eventually, he stopped at a street corner where a coffee shop that almost certainly sold very artificial coffee rested close by. He tilted his head up as he heard deep rumblings reverberate overhead. He squinted. It sounded like choking engines, but not like the spaceship he had used to travel here. What could make that sound?

His question was soon answered as a trio of gunships traveled overhead, tri-engines glowing a harsh blue and white as plasma spewed out from its turbines. Pilots sat behind hazy, blue glass in their cockpits as they made their way across the skyscape of Markov. Rotating cannons sat still underneath the beaks of the vessel’s forms, no doubt ready to annihilate whatever unlucky bastard had incurred their wrath. He wondered what must have sent them. Who had ordered them, and for what reason? Perhaps they were going out to save people, or protect other people?

As Sans stood on the edge of the street, gazing at the military starships that flew overhead, it dawned on him. He had been so anxious to get here that it hadn’t even occurred to him that his entire investigation might have died on arrival.

He had no idea where the Dreemurrs lived.

He walked throughout the neighborhoods, giving little more than cursory nods to random confused passersby. Every house carried the same concrete walls and the same black doors and the same glowing street lights frequented by the same robotic drones that made routine rounds throughout with garbage bins and mail deliveries. If the Dreemurrs lived here, or had ever lived here, he had no way of knowing.

Sans rapidly tapped his bony fingers against his pants as he turned another corner and came across a bus stop of sorts. Some alien was already inhabiting it, and it looked almost as worse for wear as Sans did. Sans walked in its direction as he continued trying to think.

Simply asking to see Chara or Asriel would be a no-go, he knew. If they were fighting against Darkseid at all, then there wasn’t a chance in hell they would let some random skeleton in to see them even if the skeleton promised to actually tell a funny joke as a bribe. That would leave either Toriel or Asgore, and assuming he’d be able to see them, it wouldn’t matter, as he didn’t have a clue where they were other than in the City of Markov.

He sat himself down on the bus stop’s wooden bench. He continued to ignore the strange alien hobo who was giving him weird glances as he contemplated his predicament. What would the others have done? Papyrus, Gaster?

He found himself chuckling. He could hear Papyrus’ nasally laughter echoing in his cranium.

* SANS! JUST CALL EVERY SINGLE POSSIBLE NUMBER IN EXISTENCE UNTIL YOU HEAR ASGORE’S SMOOTH, VELVETY, AND WEIRDLY DEEP BLEATING! THEN YOU TELL HIM YOU WANT TO COOK HIM SOME SPAGHETTI AND MUST FIND HIS LOCATION! HE’LL BE SURE TO INVITE YOU OVER FOR BEING SUCH A GOOD FRIEND!

As his voice rang through him, he realized that the idea might have some merit to it. Brute force, after all, could solve almost everything, from finding your friends to cracking open a safe to guessing someone’s password. Unfortunately, it also sounded like a lot of work, and he really wasn’t up for having to put even more effort into this than he already had. Wasn’t it enough that he just wanted to find a goat man with a crown? Did he *really* have to call every number he could think of until he got to said goat man?

He consulted his inner voice once again and heard Gaster’s answer back to him.

* It’s quite simple, really. Simply uncover the IP address from the last known locations that King Asgore Dreemurr used to access the internet– assuming, of course, he knows how the internet works, which might be a bit of an issue, but whatever– and triangulate the–

Okay, that just sounded like even *more* work. Why couldn’t there be an easier solution? Preferably one that didn’t involve him calling numbers or being forced to do some weird hacker stuff?

* SANS, YOU LAZYBONES! HACKER STUFF IS COOL! YOU COULD GET YOUR OWN TV SHOW WITH THAT!

* And besides, the brute-force method, while horribly inefficient, is at least a guarantee of success! Surely, you are not going to give up now!

Well, he wasn’t lazy enough to give up, thankfully, but it wasn’t like he had many options! He didn’t have anyone he could ask, after all.

Suddenly, he narrowed his eyeholes.

He actually just might. In his research, he learned of a man who had been involved in both the Siege of Markov and the Defense of Nausicaa, and both times, the child of the Dreemurrs, Chara, had been there too. That man was Roy Mustang. If there was any man in the whole of the Crossroads who could find the King, and maybe even find Gaster, then he would be that man.

So, he ran the plan through to his inner voice.

* Yes… this might work. We just need to find him!

* WHOOPEE! FRIENDSHIP-MAKING!

Of course, trying to get to a no-doubt highly valuable and incredibly busy military man was not going to be easy, but it was certainly the best solution he had. He just needed to find out where he was. The first place to start, of course, would be a military base of some kind. But there’s no way they’d just let any old skeleton wander onto the base. He would have to sneak in, but how would he even sneak in there?

Once more, he heard the rumbling engines. He tilted his head up to find yet another squad of gunships zooming overhead. Whatever they held and wherever they were going, they were obviously in a huge hurry. Was there some sort of operation about to happen?

As he watched them pass by, he noticed what appeared to be an astronomically tall tower, thin as a needle, almost poking its tip into the dome shield a fair distance away. As the gunships grew into mere dots in the distance, he noticed the way they still hung relatively close to the tower: the spire was tall enough that one could theoretically touch one of those gunships if they were high enough up.

… Oh no.

* According to my calculations… that would be suicidal.

* BUT IT WOULD BE VERY FUN! YOU COULD GO SKYDIVING AT THAT HEIGHT!

He had to agree with the Gaster voice. There was no way he could even jump into those gunships. They were solid, reinforced steel or some other type of hard metal, and the rotary blades would turn him into bone meal. And assuming he got past all of that, he’d still have to worry about getting inside the ships themselves, which would, again, be impossible without…

… a way to phase through.

But he could do that. He had that ability. It’d be really difficult… but he could try.

* If one was close enough… you could certainly phase right through.

* YES! DEATH-DEFYING STUNTS!

His smile widening, Sans looked at the hobo sitting next to him. He gestured up at the spire.

* yo… what’s that tower thing? the one that looks like a needle?

“The Needle? I dunno… it’s just the Needle.” The hobo drawled, either too tired or too bored to even really look at the skeleton.

* can i get in?

“It’s open to the public, yeah, but only the stuff all the way up is for, like, technicians and stuff.”

* coo’. appreciate it.

Sans quickly slid off of the bench. As the hobo leaned their head back to get back to whatever they were doing, however, they grunted in surprise as Sans tossed a couple of credits their way.

“Wha… huh?”

* a token of thanks for my, hehe… needling.

As Sans began to head to the Needle, he swore he heard the hobo start chuckling himself.

---

Sans had to wonder why every easily guarded and sealed-off structure also had just as many entrance and exit points through a surprisingly spacious ventilation system that spanned throughout the entire complex, including, luckily for Sans, the very rooftop he was trying to get to. The biggest obstacles– aside from dust, errant fans, the general darkness, and a rather unhealthy number of sheer drops– were all the noises that followed from him crawling around the air ducts like an industrialized naked mole rat. More than a few times, he stumbled across rooms he was pretty sure he had no business being anywhere new, and it was only through the grace of whatever Arbiter still existed that the people in there were too distracted to notice his clumsy traveling above.

Still, moving about a series of metal tubes was absolute hell. He’d have to vent about it later.

Soon, though, he found a particularly long shaft shooting up with a metal ladder attached inside. A filtered light shined down from above in serrated patterns. The rumblings of day-to-day life echoed outside. He had made it to the rooftops.

Climbing the ladder, he eventually pushed the duct vane up and out of the way before climbing out and settling on the rooftop’s cobble-covered flooring. He took a moment to wipe away any remains of the various dust bunnies he had slain on his way through before looking up. The remainder of the Needle stood tall above, connected by what appeared to be various pedestals sat on concrete blocks everywhere. Catwalks and ladders were sprinkled around its base every once in a while as the radius of the tower they surrounded grew progressively smaller and smaller.

* couldn’t have just made an elevator, couldnt they?

He forced himself to ascend the nearest ladder and slowly make his way up the remainder of the Needle. As he got higher, the city below became smaller and smaller. The people, the vehicles, the shops and street lights became no more than little dots upon a metallic background. He heard the humming of the dome shields intensify as he got closer. Wind blew his blue jacket around, and several times the ladders and catwalks he traversed shook and squeaked in such a manner that he worried he would fall off. He passed by electrical boxes, tools, and the occasional errant warning sticker or piece of graffiti.

Finally, he stopped at another catwalk about halfway up the remainder of the spire. He felt the building shift underneath him as the wind blew about. He saw the tip of the Needle wobbling about as its spear-like top occasionally glanced back the epicenter of the dome shield. Down below, even the tallest buildings seemed like mere minor pieces of decoration in the collage of city life he had only just recently been a part of.

He didn’t come here to admire it, however. He was on a mission.

His skeletal fists gripped tightly around the rusted bars of the catwalk as he glanced around. For a while, he saw nothing, not even a single ship, and grew worried that he had come all this way for nothing. Soon, though, a trio of gunships just like the ones he had seen twice before came flying over. He wasn’t quite sure where they were going, but he knew for a fact that they would lead him somewhere close to where he needed to be.

Taking a deep breath, he slowly got up on top of the fence bars of the catwalk. He leaned back and forth, desperately trying to maintain his balance. If he was going to do this, he needed to jump… and he needed to jump good.

He felt the catwalk creak underneath him. Sweat coursed down his cheekbones as his smile faded. Was it too late to back out now? If he could just go back, he could pretend he tried and just… stop. He could go back to Erde Nona and pretend none of this had happened. Maybe he could apologize to Kagami? He could say it was a stupid little prank.

Before he could retreat, however, the gunships got closer and closer. They were elevated only a little bit below him. While he was close enough to be spotted, he wondered if any of them would bother to even look up. No one was supposed to be here. No one was stupid enough to be up here!

* Here they come. No backing out now, Sans!

* YOU GOT THIS, BROTHER!

Sans tightened up.

* it’s gonna be really tragic if this kills me…

Sans waited. The first of the gunships passed him by. They didn’t even seem to notice him.

The second soon flew past. He thought he saw the pilot glance his way.

As the third began to zoom by, he suddenly leaped off of the catwalk. As he fell, he felt his body dematerialize, and soon, he stood in a room of black with only a door on the other side.

He opened it and stepped through…

… and fell face-first into the cushion of a truck’s massive trunk.

He quickly dislodged his face from the cushion and looked around. It was incredibly dark, but judging from the echoing rumbles of the engine and the feeling of turbulence rocking everything about…

… He made it. He was inside one of the gunships! It seemed like it was carrying cargo of sorts– perhaps a couple of vehicles? He didn’t care, though. He was still alive.

He couldn’t help but smile as he laid back down into the trunk, eyes shut.

* maybe… just a little nap… a little victory nap….

* zzzzzzzzzz

2750 Words

 

[Roy Mustang]

Mustang stood in the transport, holding onto a ceiling ring with one hand. It was the same model of troop air transport that Rocket had piloted during their foray into the siege, albeit with the expected rotor and grav-lift propulsion systems instead of being carried by a repurposed medical robot. That day had been a panicked scramble, risky venture after desperate gamble taken in quick succession. Markov had proven herself tenacious that day. This, on the other hand, was the very definition of a routine mission. It was a chance for them to prove they were reliable.

His gaze turned from the window to the team occupying the transport with him. They’d been handpicked for this mission by lieutenant Hawkeye, two men who’d dealt with Akata before and three for whom this would be their first venture beyond the barrier. Even in the prolonged state of relative emergency it was necessary to keep the cycles of standard operating in motion to whatever extent they could. The fresh recruits couldn’t be assumed to know more than at any other point. He wasn’t sure that private Toms had even been out of basic training when the siege had happened.

The sixth member of the team sat dozing in one of the side-mounted seats. Chara’s head rested against the shoulder guard, the oversized nature of the harness only highlighted how irregular it was to be treating the youth like a soldier. The girl seemed to be feeling particularly capricious today. Trying to fly under the radar was a difficult balancing act, Mustang knew that himself. He was relatively certain the girl intentionally shirked responsibility she felt her powers came with. It wasn’t exactly something he could blame her for, but her flippancy was a tool the enemy could exploit. Even now, Mustang was fairly certain she was only pretending to sleep, but the implicit rejection of her soon to be starring role in their upcoming mission would be noticeable to the rest of his men, regardless.

Mustang sighed in minor frustration, then reached up to the overhead speakers. He pulled the microphone down to his face, bumping it intentionally so that the feedback sounded throughout all their headsets momentarily. With everyone’s thoughts interrupted and his team brought to attention, he began to detail the mission.

“Alright team. It’s a tag ‘em and bag ‘em mission, simple as they come! The lieutenant is coordinating our route with the long range scanners back at base. She’ll be directing us to suspected Akata nests. I’ll be waking the bastards up from their cocoons as we go, a bit of nearby heat and they get all curious to come out and play. Ideal case, should be only one target to bring down at a time. Benton will tell you just as quickly that it won’t be that easy.”

The rookies glanced towards sergeant Benton, who nodded in agreement. He’d tangled with Akata in the past.

“Akata have a nasty habit of lurking, and they seem to be communicating between each other over long distances. I fully expect to have to deal with more than one at a time. The primary offensive force for our little family today is the girl in the hoodie. Chara you’re not military trained, so I am starting you off on discretionary tactics, provided it isn’t putting the rest of us in danger. Chara can tell you more about how she can do what she does, but all you need to know is she’s going to be hitting the Akata harder than most of your weaponry. Your primary focus is on supporting her and covering your flanks. This is an assessment mission, so I will be reserving flame alchemy for coaxing the beasts of the cocoons, unless the situation calls for more drastic efforts.”

The last statement bothered one of the rookies quite evidently. Mustang didn’t know his name but he’d have to adapt. The last time Mustang had taken a routine expeditionary force outside the barrier, the Unmaking had slipped agents amongst his men. And that wasn’t even counting the predisposition to darksied’s influence that Chara seemed to be showing signs of. To Mustang, the assessment part of this mission was far less about their combat performance and far more about shoring up his now necessary paranoia.

“Benton. You’ve been on a few of these roundups before. What’s to know about downing Akata that isn't in the files?”

“The stuff they’re made of is close to metal itself. Direct hits is the name of the game, a glancing blow is just as likely to ricochet off as do anything to slow them down”

Mustang nodded in appreciation before he cut in.

“And make damn sure you report any bites! We have an antibody but we’ll have to get them in you fast to counteract that phage in their saliva. Our homeland forces are well busy with the Unmaking, I am not about to start an outbreak of void zombies inside the barrier, understand?”

A chorus of affirmations acknowledged the end of the briefing, and the pilot’s voice crackled into their headsets.

“I’m touching us down about a klik from the first cave, sir. ETA in about four minutes.”

Landing amidst the dense canopy of Cevanti’s forests was always touch and go. The fact that they were a single klik from the destination was better accuracy than Mustang had been expecting.

“Sounds good.” Mustang responded, then nodded to the team. He crossed to the trunk in the back of the land rover to grab one of the mesh nets they’d be using to haul the Akata back onto the transport.

“A routine mission. You’re trained to handle what’s out here with us. Shouldn’t be any surprises.”

He slid open the door of the locker and found himself face-to-face with a grinning skull. Mustang reared back reflexively as a child-sized skeleton tumbled out onto the transport floor. White lights winked into the empty eye sockets as it glanced around at the startled soldiers.

*come on guys, is it that surprising?
*everyone’s got a skeleton in their closet!

 

[Chara Dreemurr]

The snoozing shitlord in front of her was an implausibility wrapped in a blanket burrito of unlikeliness. Had this been any other monster snoozing in front of her, Chara would have immediately assumed it was some trick of Darkseid’s. However, this was the king, so in some ways, this was actually the most likely way to encounter him.

Although,as Chara drew closer, and her eyes met Sans, something felt… uncomfortable. It was like a heavy blanket sat across her shoulders, as her eyes met Sans’s skull-holes, and a slight shift to his smile, something invisible to those who didn’t really know Sans, indicated a similar discomfort, as they stepped forward. It was hard to explain, but it had that uncomfortable feeling of eye strain that came with looking at an optical illusion, the brain working overtime to process something.

Sans was a judge. Chara was a judge. Either of these could have been true, but both of these at the same time should have been untrue, and that distraction, along with Sans’s funny bone joke, let one of Mustang’s men pull out a weapon on the strange fat skeleton in their midst.

Chara’s knife immediately came out, guiding the barrel downwards before the soldier could blink. “Do not.” Chara warned, as Roy seemed almost exasperated as he locked eyes with Chara. “Unless you’d like to cause a large incident.”

“Explain quickly then, Dreemurr!” Roy snapped, though a look of frustration and a silent swear made the instant regret on Roy’s face clear - a look that said he didn’t wish that to leave his mouth, as the men looked to him. Chara kept her face neutral, and her heart as well - Roy had a bone to pick, and Chara understood it, but right now it was more important to handle what was going on in the moment. She could feel later.

Chara gave a sigh in response. “I still hold to my vow to protect Country and King..”

*king? i look like a king to you? kiddo, you might wanna get your eyes checked. How many kings you seen?

Chara turned to regard the skeleton, as a sidelong smirk filled her face. “Even less than usual, somehow. I have a feeling we both do not know each other. But still, a Sans is a Sans.”

As Chara gave a short bow. “But as it is also our first meeting… Greetings, I am Chara.”

Sans gave her a look, and this time a bit of seriousness crept into his voice briefly.

*that expression… that’s the face of someone seein’ an old friend. i don’t know you, kid, but i suppose you must know me, in some manner of speakin’.

I imagine that one’s pretty rough

Though, as he quirked his head and continued, it immediately left his voice.

*anyways, i’d feel like a numb-skull if i was interrupting anything important, just need a little help before I head out. wanted to have a chat with your folks. Check in about a couple things.

Chara’s face turned dark at the proclamation. “Toriel and Asgore are no longer with us.”

The younger Dreemurr’s heart wrenched as she saw Sans’s expression. That was a little closer to the all-too-depressed King she’d known.

Roy finally spoke up, though his voice had softened considerably from the last time he spoke up. “Dreemurr, I am… sorry, I have to interrupt this moment, but we’re minutes away from handling an Akata threat, and I can’t turn this ship around now. Can you ensure the civilian keeps out of danger?”

Chara looked back with surprise, as the words rang through her, before giving a wink and a look back to their new companion. “Sans?”

The skeleton looked back to her with surprise, before a harmonica flew from Chara’s hands, fast as lightning.

No one, Chara included, saw the skeleton move, before the skeleton put the harmonica to his lips, playing an experimental - and awful - note on the instrument.

*Heh. Guess it’s not my style. I’m a whole lot better on the trombone!

Chara groaned at the joke, as Roy gave a slow nod.

“He doesn’t need protecting.” Chara would say with a smirk. “He’s fragile, but I assure you it - doesn’t really matter.” the younger judge would say, meeting Sans’s eyes.

“If you need some catch-up, I promise I can explain everything after this mission. I think you will have to catch me up on quite a bit too. I am hoping whatever explanation you have disproves my theories.

“Theories?” Roy asks.

Chara just groaned. “Alternate timelines are stupid in concept, and I do not want to live in a world where I have to subscribe to their existence.”

788 words/post
2,215 words/thread

 

[Sans]

“Okay, so it’s gonna be a teabaggin’ mission.”

* you mean a ‘tag em and bag em’ mission?

“Yes- no. I’m pretty sure it’s a teabaggin’ mission.”

* that ain’t what i heard.

“Your face was shoved in a locker.”

* lock her? i barely know her!

“Gosh dangit…”

Chara couldn’t stop herself from giggling as she continued her attempt at an explanation of this mission Sans had so casually stumbled upon.

“We’re basically just hunting akatas. You know what those things are?”

* they have a nasty habit of lurking around where they don’t belong.

“Sound familiar?”

* not even a little bit. they don’t share my sense of humor.

The two of them shared in their laughter. The two of them had taken to a corner of the gunship away from the other soldiers, including the incredibly-miffed Roy Mustang, who was busying himself with spying on them both from the other side of the ship. He was surprised to see Mustang with such a stoic expression on his face. It was quite impressive, actually. If he hadn’t been paying close attention, he would have assumed that Roy simply didn’t care about his presence one bit. He did, though. He cared about him a lot, and if it weren’t for the fact that Chara knew who he was, there was no doubt in Sans’ mind that he would have been strapped in an interrogation room or something and be forced to confess whatever secrets that he had.

Not that he would ever tell them, of course. Not for his sake, but for theirs. Some secrets were best not shared with anyone.

That is, unless Chara told them.

* i’m surprised you haven’t asked how i got into this gunship.

“Simple. You probably teleported in or something like that while we were in flight so no one would notice you were on board.”

* … you’re not wrong.

Chara chuckled. “You sound peeved.”

* well it was quite the secret. heh.

He winked at her. * makes me wonder just how much you know. maybe you were the one following me, eh?

They laughed once again, but Sans couldn’t help but feel like it was just a bit more forced this time. The duo steadily fell silent as their laughter died away. The vessel carrying everyone jostled about with every twist and turn the pilot made; it felt like he was riding a rotating seesaw of sorts.

Sans glanced about. What DID Chara know? She told him he was a king, that the Dreemurrs were dead. It was weird enough that he would have been given pause even if he hadn’t seen what he saw within the Underground. The pictures of him and Papyrus in the throne room, the regal garbs, the way everything changed had chilled him deep down. Being in this new world, this new Crossroads, was a horrible feeling.

The only way it could be worse, of course, was if Chara spilled the beans on how everything worked. If she told them all about the anomalies, about the world between worlds, about time travel and alternative dimensions, then would this Crossroads even be able to be preserved? Would anyone even fight for it? He was fighting for it, but only because the stakes were simply that big, bigger even than just these Crossroads. How many Govermores had fallen to Darkseid? Could it even be counted?

Could Chara tell them about any of it?

He chuckled. Nah, that was impossible. She’d have no reason to. The bit about “alternative timelines” was just a dumb little joke. It didn’t necessarily mean anything, nor had to mean anything. Of course, if she said it again, then he’d have reason to worry. It was a pattern, if there was anything Gaster taught him, it was that patterns were very, very important.

* so…

Sans lightly scratched the metal wall near him. * your parents are…?

“They’re dead, yeah.”

* sorry about that.

“Nothing you could have done.”

* i’m not so sure about that.

“Were you around at Markov when they died?” Chara snapped just loudly enough to make Sans flinch ever so slightly.

* …. no.

“Then you couldn’t have done anything.”

* right.

Sans sighed. * and your brother, asriel… he’s still alive?

“Yep.”

* now ain’t that somethin’. hardly seems real.

“Oh, please, it’s–”

‘asriel as it gets.’

They paused as the same exact pun said with the exact same cadence promptly slipped out of their prospective mouths. Soon, both of them were bursting out laughing once again. This time, though, the laughter didn’t last so long nor was given the chance to die away. Roy Mustang saw to that.

“Hey, quit snickering over there and get ready!” Mustang said as he stomped over towards the direction of Chara and Sans. “We’ve arrived.”

788 words

 

[Roy Mustang]

Mustang was getting a headache. This theoretically routine operation was going awry at an impressively fast rate. They hadn’t even touched down and they’d discovered a stowaway that Chara knew personally enough to draw a weapon on of his men. Yet at the same time, the two of them were trying to establish very basic facts about one another amidst their near constant stream of childish jokes.

they clearly didn’t know one another as well as they claimed to, yet there was an instant trust between them. From Chara, one of the most paranoid people he knew! It was another one to add to Mustang’s growing pile of unaddressed mysteries. It was likely getting to some of the rookies as well. Soldiers knew how to crack jokes in the face of fear, it came with the territory. But several of these men were fresh. They hadn’t been outside the energy barrier yet and they’d be nervous. When you were about to risk life and limb out in the Markovian wilderness, there was only so much strange behavior you could adapt to. If their stowaway was an ally that was supposed to be reliable, he certainly wasn’t exuding that perception with his antics.

A new fit of pun-induced giggling drew Mustang’s gaze away from the landing zone as the craft descended. He needed to re-establish the air of professionalism before the mission started. If his men were too out of their depth they would fail to take matters into their own hands even when they were capable of doing so.

“Hey, quit snickering over there and get ready. We’ve arrived.”

Mustang grabbed a hold of a ceiling ring as the vehicle shook. the verti-burners were beginning touchdown.

“Sergeant Benton, I want you to take the squad out and establish the perimeter. Place those proximity screechers far enough away that the pilot can take off before any curious zoid gets close enough to see it. I need to have a brief word with Dreemurr and our stowaway.”

Sergeant Benton nodded and as the vehicle doors flooded their eyes with sunlight, the squad moved out. Mustang watched their positioning and form briefly. Once he was satisfied it didn’t need immediate comment he turned back to Chara and Sans. Chara was watching with an actively neutral expression, likely gearing up for yet another clash about autonomy and authority. Mustang held her gaze for a moment, then relaxed his posture and expression, putting his hands in his pockets.

“I’m not planning another lecture. I just want to give the men a chance to re-ground themselves in the training they’re prepared for before another pint-sized being with inexplicable knowledge and power materializes out of someone’s lunch.”

That kind of comment didn’t help anything. Mustang swallowed his irritation to take on a more conversational tone.

“You two know one another then?”

“The simplest answer to give is ‘mostly.’ in this case.” the girl shrugged.

*not the first time I’ve laid eyes on her. but I also don’t have eyes.

Mustang didn’t comment on either of their deflective half-answers.

“And you’re willing to help us hunt these beasts? You certainly don’t have the look of a warrior.”

*nah, that was more my brother’s goal.

“Would you prefer to stay here on the ship then?”

One of Sans’s eyes faded as he glanced towards Chara in what Mustang could only interpret as a wink.

*aw gee, do I look that lazy?

“Neither of us exactly stand at attention, Sans. He’s used to salutes and marching and stuff.” Chara offered with a casual aside.

*oh yeah? you can count on me then colonel mustard.

The skeleton waved a hand beside his head in what was either a horrendous attempt at a salute or a casual wave. He returned the bony fingers to his coat pocket, still grinning throughout the whole conversation.

Mustang’s comment was interrupted by the blaring of one of the proximity screechers. He grit his teeth, immediately rushing towards the vehicle doors without even a word towards the other two. This was either one of the rookies setting up the device wrong and telegraphing their location, or they had already caught something’s attention.

Mustang rounded the side of the transport to find Chara and Sans both already outside, staring into the underbrush. The proximity screecher had gone silent. It could simply have been a false alarm, but the oppressive quiet that clung to the Markovian jungle in front of them made him doubt it. Mustang slipped on one of his ignition cloth gloves, stepping up beside the two smaller members of his team.

*no metal birds singing, or folk birds or pop birds for that matter.

A shout and a burst of gunfire erupted somewhere in the brush to their left. Private Jasper broke into the clearing, firing erratically behind him as he ran. The sleek blue form of an Akata appeared, mere meters behind him. The man was panicking. He’d been told that glancing gunfire was likely to ricochet off the Akatan hide, but it took a certain degree of confidence to plant one’s position and stand your ground shooting when a full-grown Akata was bounding your direction.

*SNAP!*

A burst of flame exploded in the intervening space between soldier and pursuer. The Akata were frustratingly difficult to actually burn. Their skin and their cocoons both were all but impossible to scorch without more prolonged heat exposure than flame alchemy could easily provide. But heat was the main attractor that an Akata used to distinguish and track its prey. The explosion of flame in the area before the monster’s eyes flared up, the fire’s heat disorienting the monster and distracting it from its pursuit of Private Jasper. It cast its head to and fro, tentacle mane following in a delayed manner, as though underwater while on dry land. It howled in frustration, though the alien sound was almost a void more than a vocalization. The hollow call was taken up by more voices deeper into the jungle.

“Alright you two.” Mustang kept his arm raised, flanked on either side by the pair of judges, “Let’s see just how well you can handle some monsters.”

994 words

 

[Chara Dreemurr]

Chara looked over to Sans with a worried look, seeing the skeleton. “...You gonna be okay, old-timer?” she asked the skeleton.

Sans's reply was a flippant smile and a trademark wink.

* well, you might be working me to the bone here, but I’ll be alright. trust me, kid. how about you?

Chara managed a weak smile at the response, giving a smug retort. “I better be. My mentor’s standing right next to me, so the last thing I wanna look like is a weinie.”

Sans’s smile fell for shock for a moment as he Realised just who Chara was standing next to, pointing a bony finger to himself with surprise, before giving a short chuckle.

*Heh. Well, how about we see how much you really learned, kid.

“You really think you can keep up, old man?” Chara quipped back, before disappearing through a shortcut, popping up behind the Akata…

Only to bump into a big-boned ribcage as Sans popped up right behind her.

* going up!

Chara looked to see the familiar blue glow she knew all too well from previous sparring sessions lift the akata high in the air as the skeleton flicked his arm up. The Beast was sent flying with a snarl into the air by the Skeleton’s magical pull, but Chara knew it’d take something a lot stronger than this abomination to break his grip. It didn’t take any special deduction on her part to know what would come next, so she’d already leaped forward as she saw that arm come crashing down.

*LV 7→19*

The line of code filled her vision as she fearlessly leaped forward, crimson lining her knife as she cut a solid line through the Akata, the blade tearing through the armored carapace like paper as she struck the right spot, cleaving the helpless Akata in two.

*Phew…

The two exchanged deep breaths. The Metal-ghost had taken a rough position - they had to get rid of it in time to let everyone get their respective backs against the APC and set up positions, but Blue Soul and LV manipulation was tiring. They’d need to try and conserve their energy a little from here if the Akata kept coming .

Still, Chara had accounted for that. “Mustang, my companion here’s really good at causing damage to accumulate. If you have your men watch for Akata that appear to be weakening or breaking down, they’ll have easy marks to finish off. I’ll be looking for the same.” She said to the Colonel. “We’ll be relying on the power of the mighty flame alchemist to keep them disrupted, of course.” The Dreemurr stated confidently, as she stopped by his side for a moment.

The Men had all set up in rifled positions, as a small horde of Akata had appeared, As Chara placed her hands in her pocket. “...621, 570…” she muttered as a swarm of knives like hornets appeared above the arrayed soldiers, and the ravenous horde of animals was immediately beset by thousands of hornet-like blades, several falling to the swarm while others managed to take only glancing blows.

Some of these were soon consumed in a howling red blast, as a fallen knife in their midst sparked, then exploded in a burst of raw power and consumed several more in karmaic retribution.

Even more were taken out by a hail of gunfire, as the men started unloading, and the Akata began scattering, running this way and that.

*pretty persistent, huh?

Sans asked, as the Akata struck, attacking from every angle as they tried to pierce the perimeter Mustang’s men had created. Yet, every single attack seemed to be preempted by a man-sized bone striking out from the ground, the beasts constantly pushed away from any prey they lunged for before being taken out by the reliable arms the men with them had taken. Gone was the first flash of panic and with it came the reliable push of adrenaline as the men’s reflexes overcame their horror, and Gunfire trained for months at the range flew into an accurate barrage from their force of arms.

Chara gave a grin as she looked back at Mustang. “See? The old man does know how to handle himself.”

To her surprise, she noticed the slightest of shirks at the gesture, before he replied in an exasperated tone. “Your friend is capable, yes. Focus on the fight, Dreemurr!”

Chara was frustratingly left too confused by the sight to think of a good quip back, so she turned back to the battle, readying another barrage of crimson blades.

 

[Sans]

* you know, has anybody tried domesticating these things? i think they’d make good pets.

To emphasize his point, he promptly waved a hand and spawned in several long, white bones out of the ether and just as quickly embedded them into the metal hull of a particularly ornery akata harassing the perimeter line. The blows barely broke its stride, but as the seconds ticked by, the akata– which had so many bones sticking out of it by this point that it more resembled a malevolent porcupine than anything else– gradually slowed down behind the rest of the pack that it accompanied before lethargically flopping down onto its belly.

Sans turned his head to gaze at Colonel Mustang as he gestured towards the porcupine akata. * see? doesn’t it look cute?

The Colonel didn’t reply, not even with a smile. His stern stare remained affixed on the perimeter line and the hooded human, Chara, traipsing about it. Amidst her traipery, she called out.

“See, Sans? You ain’t gonna get nothing out of him! He’s a stone wall when it comes to this.”

* oh… akata be kiddin me!

He didn’t hear a response from Roy, but he most certainly heard a loud snort erupt from Chara’s nose.

“That one was a stretch and you know it!”

* i’d call myself the goat of bad jokes, but i’m a skeleton. by the way, look out.

With a lift of his finger, he promptly sent a small, newly-blued akata flying up into the sky just before it moved to pounce onto Chara and a couple of other soldiers next to her. He twirled the unfortunate creature about in a big circle, and despite the wide radius of its motions, a few soldiers within the perimeter line were laying down a barrage of firepower onto the akata like they were kids and they were beating up a shiny pinata. Sans merely added to its torment by badly singing a little ditty to himself and those around him.

* you spin me right round, baby, right round, like a record baby, right round round round

While he was busy rapidly discombobulating the airborne akata, Sans analyzed the current situation. All in all, things were going alright. Despite the visible tension and adrenaline-filled nervousness of a fair portion of the perimeter line, nobody broke and nobody faltered, and thus no one was injured in any substantial way. Nobody needed serious help, so thus, he felt no need to take things too seriously himself. As such, his actions stayed relegated to that of support: bones shooting into the already-injured, enhanced gravity on another, etcetera. Not once did he kill, however. They were just animals, after all, and besides, he didn’t need nor want his LOVE to increase even by a decimal point—although he had to wonder whether pincushioning and throwing the creatures into various trees wasn’t at least a little bit concerning on his end. He shrugged. It was a work in progress. Maybe Gaster would have better ideas for it once he found him.

If only he could say the same about the others, though. They were as merciful as any soldier could be, but their actions remained the same. He peered past the flashes of gunfire, the blades of grass cut apart by bullets, to the various akata corpses lying still, silent as they were in life, past the perimeter line. Why were they killing them again? It seemed like a lot of effort dedicated solely to their slaughter.

He didn’t know, and he didn’t figure he’d get a good answer out of anyone if he did ask, so he decided it’d be best if he just ignored it and continued with his antics while everyone else, particularly Chara, did all the actual work. He watched as Chara, the daughter of King and Queen Dreemurr, sister to the Prince— or at least should have been all of those things— slashed, burned, and otherwise slaughtered her way through the packs of akata that made their presence known and just as quickly fled in terror at her power. Sans couldn’t blame them. If he was around during the war between the Humans and the Monsters and the humans pulled moves like that out, he wouldn’t want to fight them either. Crimson fire spat out from her knife like a fiery whip, and every once in a while, she pulled out even more of them from the air, launched them, and erupted the earth with a great golden explosion. It was hard not to be impressed, but it was even harder not to be unnerved by it. Didn’t she say he mentored her? What kind of moves did he supposedly teach her, and why did she listen to anything he said like they were supposed to be good ideas?

Maybe he just needed to be glad the focus of her violence was on these animals and not on her fellow allies. If she were to ever do that, he wasn’t sure how much damage she could cause. The violence against another was a violence against one’s SOUL; as more is hurt, more is killed; as more is killed, the more the killing comes naturally, comes as expected, as necessary, as easy as breathing. He wasn’t sure how accurate such a statement was, but it terrified him nevertheless, even if his smile never faltered for longer than a moment whilst thinking on the subject.

A small selection of akata moved leftwards up a small crest close by like a river of rubbery, metal flesh, glowing eyes intensely focused on the line of soldiers busying themselves with securing their immediate front. Sans glanced about, his smile fading for a moment upon seeing that Chara, too, was busying herself with single handedly taking on yet another pack all by herself. No one except for him and Mustang seemed to even notice the approaching wave.

* hmm

Colonel Mustang glared at the encroaching horde. He lifted his arm up, the veins of his hand bulging as he brought two fingers together. Sans, instead, merely waved his hand and tilted his head almost like he was about to look away entirely. The Colonel didn’t even spare him a glance; why would he if he was barely going to move?

Just as he was about to snap, however, he hesitated. A twin set of skulls steadily morphed into existence, one low to the ground and another higher in the air, to face the upcoming pack. The akata, upon witnessing this, swiftly skidded to a halt just before them. They swerved about, baring their void-filled fangs, but absolutely nothing they did even got as much as a blink or a swivel out of the massive, gaping skulls.

All the while, Sans kept a hand behind his back, glancing out the corner of his eyeholes, waiting.

The akata leading the leftmost pack— a surprisingly small fellow compared to the others— seemed just about to charge forth at the skull blocking its path when it did a double-take. It stared up into the sky, its head cocked, and whatever aggression it had promptly dissipated into thin air. If it could make any noise, Sans was certain it’d be whimpering as it turned around and ran as far as its little legs could carry it. Soon, the rest of the leftmost pack began doing the same until the distant rustling and brushing of bushes and massive leaves was the only indication that they were ever even there.

“They’re falling back! They’re fleeing!” Someone shouted.

Whatever akata did not flee, however, did not make it. Through the hail of gunfire, bones, and knives, another akata soon joined the pile, then another, and only when the living crowd thinned away did Sans take note that the akata he had been pirouetting had long since stopped moving on its own. Sighing, he let it return to its natural color and had it fall onto the ground, joining its brethren amidst the heap.

Nobody moved for what felt like hours. The dull hum of the APC stationed close by intermingled with the distant cries of birds and the wind blowing tunes through logs, branches, and the flapping uniforms that the soldiers wore. They stood still, waiting for something, anything, to poke its head out or rush at them, but nothing dared try.

Eventually, Colonel Mustang lifted a hand and called out to the perimeter line. “Good work, everyone, good work. Let’s get down to business.”

The squad of soldiers merely nodded before they lowered their weapons. While a couple kept their attention focused on their surroundings, the rest marched over to the APC and opened its doors up. They drew out cages, cots, anything and everything that could be used to hold up a body and bring it safely into a vehicle. With their materials acquired, they descended upon the pile and began collecting them for departure.

As this happened, Sans simply stood by Mustang’s side, vaguely pretending to be observing them with the attentiveness that Mustang possessed.

* so, colonel muskrat

“Colonel Mustang, if you will. I don’t need two civilians deliberately mispronouncing my name for kicks.”

* oh, im no civilian, mr colonel.

Mustang raised an eyebrow. “But you– alright, what’s your rank, then?”

Sans pointed his finger guns at the Colonel. * royal assistant scientist.

“That’s not a rank.”

* it is back in my hometown.

“This isn’t your– gah…”

Colonel Mustang pinched his nose. “I can see where Chara got her… everything from, pardon my french.”

* that’s probably the nicest thing you’ve ever said to anyone, mister mustang.

“I’m sure. Now what do you want?”

Sans pointed a thumb towards the akata corpses a ways away. * tag ‘em and bag ‘em, right? what for?

“Routine training mission. Some of these soldiers haven’t even been outside the shields.” Colonel Mustang said as he gestured at the group working their way through the piles of bodies. “With Cevanti the way it is, we need them ready.”

* i see.

The Colonel glared out at the soldiers as they began carting the dead akata into the APC. If there was anything else to his expression, the Colonel didn’t give it away. He was as stoic as Sans could be, and it was impressive to behold.

Sans stuffed his hands into his pockets as he gazed out at Chara, who seemed to be passing the time playing hackey-sack with some small pebbles she found.

* she’s strong, ain’t she?

“Very.”

* one of the strongest i’ve seen. the old goat would be proud.

“As should you. You’re the one who trained her, right?”

* eh…..

Sans circled his hands about, a low grunt escaping from his bony smile. * i’m more concerned she’s gonna hurt herself, or someone else.

“... Really now?”

* yeah.

He looked up at the Colonel, snapping his fingers. * running around with all those knives? that’s an accident waiting to happen, colonel. she could trip and fall. safety hazard, right there.

Sans laughed and slapped his knee. Unfortunately, the Colonel didn’t even snort.

* god, you humans have no sense of humor.

“I’ve been rendered immune to these things.

* because of chara? god, i’ve got my work cut out for me, huh?

“Your work?”

* yeah.

Sans winked at him. * someone’s gotta keep an eyehole out for her, yeah?

1873 Words

 

[Roy Mustang]

Pun aside, it did seem that this newcomer was genuine about his desire to help Chara, despite whatever confusion was sitting between them. Mustang had a feeling Asriel would be relieved to hear that there were more people looking out for her. This was, in some tangled manner that Mustang was quite certain he didn’t really understand, her mentor. Aside from perhaps Asriel himself, this Sans would probably be the most equipped to navigate her personality well enough to be able to actually get through to her when it mattered.

Mustang and Sans each stood with their hands in their pockets, watching as the team loaded the Akata they had managed to take down into the vessel. Chara had volunteered herself to maintain a perimeter watch and disappeared off into the foliage. Mustang had noted that she often sought distance after conflicts, which meant something likely wasn’t sitting right.

“Tell me, Sans, have you been in the Crossroads long?”

*nah, i’m not really into all that pirate stuff.

“...What?”

*oh wait. you said crossroads, not crossbones!

*my mistake.

The unchanging grin on the skeleton’s face left Mustang with little to go on as to whether it actually had been.

“...In either case, how familiar are you with the Unmaking? Or, for that matter… Darksied?”

Sans Shrugged.

*doesn’t sound like a very good thing

* making stuff takes effort, so anybody going around and breaking it all again?

* well, you’d hope they have reasons for it.

“Reasons, huh…” Mustang frowned, staring at the ground in thought.

That was an interesting angle to consider. They’d always been treating the Unmaking as a fact, a natural force, a disaster to be mitigated. While that was how it tended to manifest against Markov, it wasn’t the truth of the situation. The Unmaking was controlled. It was a directed force, at least to an extent… and that implied an end purpose to the destruction it brought.

“I can explain in more detail later, but what’s important to make you aware of is that Chara has specifically been the target of the Unmaking’s agents in the past. She’s referred to Darksied as her job to fix. I know you’re both judges or whatever you call it, but I have concerns that she’s in o-”

His comment was cut short by a shout of alarm from the inside of the vessel. Mustang and Sans looked up in surprise as frantic motion broke out from one of the containment units. With a rending of metal, writing tendrils tore free, stretching and weaving high into the air.

“What the hell?” Mustang watched almost in disbelief as one of the slain Akata rose out of its containment unit.

No, perhaps it was better to say that the slain Akata was raised out of the container. All Akata had a mane of tendrils that weaved about as they moved. This creature’s mane still writhed with motion, but the tendrils had grown to a ludicrous size, nothing that the Akata could have sustained naturally. They were a discolored purple hue that only vaguely resembled its natural colors and the creature’s body hung limply in the air, suspended by its head from behind the morass of flailing limbs.

*well that sure looks bad.

“Everyone get back! It’s probably infected!” Mustang stepped forwards, his arm extended and glove at the ready. The squad was scrambling away as the bizarre monstrosity continued to crush and batter anything it could find within reach.

This was potentially real trouble. The Akata’s skin was naturally quite resilient to fire. It was speculated that they could survive the heat of re-entry into the atmosphere within their cocoons. His flame alchemy served to distract and blind their heat-based vision more than it could actually take them down. Given the mutated nature of this particular specimen, there was really no telling what effect, if any, this would have on the monster. But it was better than nothing. Mustang raised his hand.

*SNAP!*

The flailing mass of rabid tendrils erupted into flame. The boom of incinerated oxygen shaking the nearby trees. The creature didn’t even have enough existence to scream, though the flailing of its many limbs took on a much more frantic rhythm. The thrashing mess was decisively heading in his direction now and Mustang took a step back.

*well, it definitely noticed you

“...Tch. Very helpful.” Mustang grimaced.

*SNAP!*

Another explosion engulfed the thing, but it tore free of the smoke with purpose now, an irate fiery ball of writhing destruction. Its rampage slowed, the flames and tendrils taking on a distinctly blue hue. Mustang glanced over to see Sans, one arm extended, visible exertion on his features as he struggled to restrain the raging abomination.

*how’s this?

Sans glanced back at Mustang with the same ever-present grin, though Mustang could swear that he looked nervous.

*woo boy, this thing’s angry! i’m not too sure if i can keep this up…

The blue color that surrounded the mutated akatan corpse flickered. Steadily, with an untiring focus, it began to drag itself towards them. A flash of red streaked from the underbrush and then Chara was there. She skidded to a stop at the far side of the creature, knife in hand. Numerous purple slices appeared on the beast, and a few of the tendrils fell to the ground completely severed. She turned, eyes once more a striking shade of red. A swift arm motion and a salvo of daggers embedded themselves in the restrained monstrosity. The thrashing mass slumped to the ground.

“It was corrupted.” She stated matter-of-factly, “There is a rash of unmade foliage near what looks like the pack’s nesting grounds. We should cleanse the infection while we are here.”

It was not spoken like a suggestion.

Mustang raised a hand and scratched the back of his head with a sigh. This just kept getting better.

979 words.
5667 words total for thread

 

[Chara Dreemurr]

Chara was glad this little break into the Cevanti foliage gave her a chance to catch her breath out of view of the others. Was she really prepared to handle the FADE like this? Even with recent training she knew this was not the best she could do. Her years had taken much of her power from her, its last gasp burned out in Opealon not so long ago.

The logical, analytical part of her mind realised that she should have avoided it. She could have accepted Asriel’s loss - after all, Darkseid was there, and if she’d had her full capability, she should have been able to eliminate him in direct combat with such potent support on hand.

The more emotional part of her mind, that tainted part that had taken up so much more space, knew she couldn’t sacrifice her brother for a rule like that. Not anymore.

“some Judge.” The Fallen Child muttered to herself, as the armored personnel carrier rumbled in the background, carrying the majority of the soldiers as they went. Mustang had decided to send his soldiers into the relative protection of the vehicle as they moved out, looking for the unmade plantlife, and leaving the two to investigate - Chara knew her botany, after all.

Of course, Majority was the operative word, as Mustang’s voice finally called out. Chara didn’t bother to feign surprise - she’d been paying attention to the subtle footfalls echoing through the foliage as Mustang came behind her. There was no use hiding her basic competence from Mustang - indeed, it would be counter-productive given the current mission.

“Chara.” his voice echoed out.

“I take it you’re not here just to ask for my progress.” Chara volunteered with a sight.

“Just tell me about your guest, at least.”

“Must I?” Chara groaned.

“Not really. But I didn’t need to allow your insubordination in front of my men earlier. I don’t need to cede to every demand you make, but if you work with me, instead of against me, we can both make progress on our actual enemies.”

Chara thought about that response. “That’s a reasonable request. And we are allies for now. So I can work with it. Alright…”

The Dreemurr sighed as she finally knelt up, Her jeans wet from the moist ground beneath her. “Sans, in my timeline, was the king of Asriel’s race. He ruled with kindness and strength. He was a scientist in his off-time and the strongest monster of his race… in certain ways.” Chara added - though she wasn’t about to reveal his weaknesses, as she kept his relative fragility under wraps. “It was that version of him which gave me my role and trained me to fight.”

Mustang gave a slow nod, though it seemed like a lot of it took heavy processing from him.

“In that case, thank you for preventing me from starting an international incident.” He replied, looking a little nervous at the thought of accidental regicide. “But what do you mean by ‘version’?”

“Honestly? Can’t tell you. The technical answer could be alternate timeline, or a distortion in the crossroads, or simply some interaction with the oddities of our homeland and leaving to the outside world.” Chara notes.

“Wait… what?” Roy asked, his understanding now muddled.

“I believe he is from another version of events - one where he did not take kingship, I have died, and the great tragedy did not occur.” Chara replied.

“You’re sure it’s not just a different guy?” The Lieutenant asked, a little overcome by the implications.

“Positive. My eyes do not deceive me.” Chara replied, as that red flash shot through her vision and Roy flinched again.

Both of them paused for a moment, eyes locked as both shared expressions of surprise and embarrassment - before looking away.

“...I understand now.” The Dreemurr said, as they tried to collect themselves.

“...You really make this difficult.” Roy just said with a sigh, as Chara got up and started walking, checking a new group of ferns for signs amidst it’s leaves or code.

“I promise you, I am doing my best to meet you halfway, Roy.”

“Then why do you keep going off on your own? Why set up a hot dog stand just to spite me? Why do you continue to go off on your own, without contacting anyone, Chara? I get you’re not a kid, but you are on Darkseid’s personal shit-list, and I can’t-”

Roy stopped himself, and Chara winced, her experience letting her see ahead to the words that caught in his throat.

“I can’t help you without knowing-”

But Roy corrected himself with a sharp breath.

“I can’t stop Darkseid with an uncooperative team.” Mustang spoke up finally, “And if you don’t trust in the team you’re working with, it will lead to an early death.”

Chara was silent for a moment. Her heart fell warm as butter, then froze into lead as she finally took Mustang’s gaze. This time, her eyes stayed scarlet as she took in Roy’s gaze.

“I can’t.”

“Why?”

Chara gave a slight shake of her head, before replying,

“Would you do anything to save your world?”

Roy would incline his head towards her.

“I’d do whatever is necessary, yes.”

Chara gave a nod, a frown appearing across her face as suspicion and anger wrapped around Roy’s.

“Against Darkseid? Or anyone?”


"Just what are you getting at, Chara? The military of Markov is sworn to defend her people against any threat. I take that charge quite seriously."

Chara gave a long, slow sigh.

“Because that makes me, and my knowledge, a valuable resource against any threat. My life - or death - is an asset you may spend in the pursuit of defending your home and the people you care about.” Chara notes with a frown.

“I’m not ashamed of that. I joined my military to defend my nation. What does that change?” Roy asked, his temper starting to spark.

“I did not unleash my power in the siege of Markov. It was not out of simple selfishness, nor a desire to keep myself safe. It’s because I’m an older sister with a younger brother, and both of us could be considered valuable resources for the right people.” Chara notes, studying Roy’s face as she speaks.

Emotions whiled there. His lips pull back slightly, his tight-lipped features softening. Chara realizes his focus is broken, briefly, curiosity following with the set of his jaw breaking down as his pupils fall. Then, like a snake coiling, the harshness of his set returns, his jaw aligning, his eyes meeting Chara’s own,
“So - what, you’re worried I might sell you out?” Roy snapped.

“I worry you’ll look the other way if I tell you where my homeland is, reveal it to the right people who happen to have the scientific expertise to reverse engineer our technology. I worry a small spy drone here or an innocuous check-up going a little more in-depth on myself or my brother there might sound reasonable. I am worried that weapons will be developed, with the intent of deterrence, because why would anyone force you to fire them. I am worried because your willingness to commit violent acts in the name of your nation is burned into your code in a way I can see, Roy.” Chara replied.

“But you’re also one of my soldiers.” Roy’s response was clipped, fast, his pulse elevated.

“And one of your resources.” Chara notes, staring Roy in the eyes. “And I am fine serving as your pawn for the moment, to end this war, but I refuse to be responsible for the death toll piling up high in the next one. And humanity always has another war.” Chara replied, her tone finally starting to lose it’s even clip. “And you are more than a soldier - you are a patriot!”

“A patriot for my people! Not my flag!” Roy yelled out, and the sound cut across the foliage, almost high enough to pierce through the APC’s sound-proofing as the two worked.

Chara soundlessly exhaled, as the two faced each other, and Roy, for the first time Chara had ever seen him, looked genuinely tired, stress showing on his face.

“I am aware of what I’ve done. I know it can’t be erased. But before..." He trailed off briefly before continuing, "There are things that must be put to right. I will see that through.”

Chara’s response was lacking in emotion, depressed in tone.

“I-”

The girl’s voice was scratchier than it had sounded before, as she replied.

“Want to believe that. I do. But with every step of this war, you will be challenged. Humans - we - are not built to withstand that pressure.” Chara notes. “And you have duty, and responsibility to think about. If I share too much, speak too much on my past, I may put you in a position where you are forced to think about what is best for your people. It is better if you are not forced into that position.”

Roy looked frustrated, but beneath that, there seemed to be some level of understanding… and a hint of surprise. Though the frustration seemed to resurge shortly after.

“If you keep shutting me out, doing the bare minimum to work with me, Darkseid will win. We just saw how this went for Saren! He preys most on those who work on their own.”

Chara gave a shrug, a wistful smile appearing across her face. “Where do you think I got the idea for selling concession on base?”

Roy’s angry face was replaced with one of confusion and incredulity in a way Chara was delighted to see. “What.”

“Roy, half your squad was about ready to confuse me for a target before I figured out how to smuggle that stuff onto the base. It’s kinda hard to close any kind of distance when your soldiers figured I was some murderous goblin that stalked the night… so I used the one thing proven to always close the distance just a little bit. Good food and bad jokes.” Chara replied with a smirk.

Roy quieted for a moment as the thought crossed his mind. “...I… see the sense in that.” Roy admitted after a moment, though the words seemed to fight him as they came out of his mouth. It took only a second of silence before he asked. “Wait a minute! How did you get everything on site!”

“A magician never reveals her secrets, Roy.” Chara replied, as her teasing demeanour resurfaced. I-”

The two were interrupted by the sound of scratching claws against wood.

Both of them exchanged a wide-eyed look as the sound grew closer.

“...evil plants?” Chara guessed, as she looked to the treeline, trying to see what was making the noise.

The trail of decapitated trees cut a noticeable curve beneath its source, as both Chara and Mustang gulped. A metallic zoid, one that might have resembled a tiger, normally. The head was missing, covered in a strange fungus, and vines that not only wrapped around the headless chassis, but whipped out in different direction, striking like a whip as they cut through vegetation.

“Oh, that’s so much worse.” Chara gasped under her breath, as Roy’s glare pierced through the new opponent as a snap of his fingers put it to the torch.