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Late at night, a different decision is made. Instead of staying in the room with their sleeping mother and friend, a child sneaks out of their home, knife in hand, their destination determined to be—
“The playground? The one by the apartments? Why?”
Snowy shuffles backwards awkwardly, you notice. Whether it’s because of Susie’s intimidating height and appearance, the nature of his request, or the fact that he’s so desperate he cornered you just outside the bathroom to make it, you’re not sure. A combination of all three? Something you haven’t considered?
“Well… I… uh… Look, can you please just do this for me? I’ll make it worth your while, promise!”
Susie huffs. You get the sense that she doesn’t feel it will be worth her while.
After a moment of Snowy’s puppy-dog (drakey?) eyes, however, she caves, admitting defeat with a growling sigh. You step in while Susie fumes, telling Snowy that yes, of course the two of you will go on this mysterious fetch quest for him, yes you promise you won’t tell anybody else, no you’re not going to skip class to do so (this time). You would, however, like to know what the object objective looks like, where he remembers leaving it last, and ideally, why he’s being so cagey about the whole thing.
Because, in case it wasn’t clear, Snowy is being cagey. You’d almost think he’s smuggling drugs if not for the fact that you just don’t get that vibe from him. Snowy, doing or dealing drugs? You’d sooner see your dad kicking puppies.
...Unless they were criminal monster puppies, you suppose. Come to think of it...
“Well, uh, it’s… okay technically not in the playground, more in the alley behind it. Where the, uh, teenagers hang out! Me included. Apparently. Uh. And uh… it’s green? You’ll know it when you see it; it’s got my name on it! Can’t miss it!”
Snowy hesitates, voice seeming to catch in his throat. Susie moves to leave and head back to class. You follow suit.
Then Snowy’s words rush out of his constricted throat like water from a firehose, going so quickly you almost can’t understand him—likely the intention: “I’dgoandgetitmyselfbutIpromisedmyfriendsIwouldn’tsotherebye!”
Susie freezes, turning her head to look back at her surprisingly speedy classmate, but he is already gone, tail turned and hidden in the bathroom. When she realizes he’s not coming back anytime soon, she sighs, facing you.
“Well. Alleyway. Green. Snowy’s name is on it. Not vague at all.”
You shrug in agreement. The pair of you start returning to class.
“Still. Should be simple enough.”
“Okay, what the heck .”
You’re in the Dark World. A Dark World, you suppose. It’s not Castle Town. In fact, it’s arguably as far from Castle Town as possible: where Castle Town is mostly dark, lit by glowing fungi and the occasional disco ball (thanks Clover), this Dark World is lit up in bright primary colors, ground a shining plasticky red and sky a pleasant blue. There isn’t much of the former, thanks to the ocean of brown… muck surrounding your little patch of land, lapping against it like the tide. The latter is, off in the horizon, blackened by a pillar of pure darkness pulling from the earth.
A Dark Fountain, no doubt. Definitely not Castle Town’s Dark Fountain.
Troubling.
Both you and Susie are here on this bright red island with no other land in sight and only a trio of tan treelike structures for company. The ocean of brown seems endless. And even putting aside the fact that you don’t like getting wet unnecessarily, you get the sense that going skinny-dipping in the roiling sludge would not end well for you.
Susie puts that hypothesis to the test, digging a piece of moss out of one of her pockets and hurling it into the goop. It floats on the surface for a brief moment before it’s suddenly engulfed in brown, a loud schlorp dragging it down into the depths.
Probably not a good idea to try a boat, then. Not that you have one.
Susie snarls in frustration, sitting down angrily with a loud clunk before getting back up and resorting to just following you around impatiently. Thankfully, she doesn’t need to do so for long: after about two minutes of “tree”-examination, you find a hidden message on one of the trunks (PUSH THE OTHER TWO, NO COMMODORES ALLOWED), follow the instructions, and a secret trapdoor lifts up, revealing a ladder leading down, down down.
With nowhere else to go…
“Who even makes a ladder that long? And why would they set it on fire? Why?”
You don’t have an answer to that.
One harrowing ladder journey led to a long, winding tunnel, one you suspect to be far beneath the ocean of goop. Neither of you have any clue where it leads, but you’re both pretty sure it’s got to be better than just staying put on the island. Still, you’re both being cautious, anticipating any enemy action: your sword is mere moments from being out of its sheath, while Susie’s ax has already been materialized from wherever she keeps it normally, ready to chop some heads.
You wonder where Ralsei is.
Several minutes of tense walking later, Susie freezes in place, eyes wide.
“I hear voices.”
You follow suit, straining your ears, verifying that she’s not imagining it. And she’s not: they’re far away, indistinct, but they definitely do exist. You share several meaningful glances before continuing, even more slowly and cautiously than before.
The voices grow clearer and clearer as you continue down the tunnel. There’s definitely more than one distinct one, one that seems louder than the others as well. But before you reach a point where you can actually tell what each person is saying…
“!?!”
“!!!!!!”
...someone accosts you.
For the most part, he looks like a human. An incredibly muscular human, bare-chested and barefoot. Instead of hands, however, he has massive hatchet heads. And instead of a head, he has… an even more massive hatchet hand. Like an Ambyu-Lance, to an extent. The blade faces directly towards you, and you get the feeling he won’t be a pushover.
And as the fight commences, you’re proven correct. In these cramped quarters, there’s barely any room for you and Susie to dodge, allowing Hatchet Face to land heavy blows upon you with his axheads and axhand, dealing massive damage with every swing. Meanwhile, neither of your weapons seem to have much of an effect on the juggernaut you’re facing, both of them easily glancing off his thick skin.
ACTing it is, then.
Hatchet Face has eyes protruding out the sides of his… hatchet face. But no mouth, no face. Judging how he’s feeling is difficult, especially while he’s trying to chop you in twain. You compliment the shininess of his axes, which doesn’t seem to have an effect. Susie tries threatening him, to no avail. Your pleadings for him to simply let you past are ignored as well.
For a good while, you’re stumped. Then you notice something mildly peculiar: Hatchet Face’s attacks are dealing significantly less damage to you than they are to Susie, who’s already had to consume two CD Bagels to stay in the fight. He actively acts more viciously fighting her as well, with heavier ax swings and more malice in his eyes, to the point that, during one turn, his carelessness makes him slam his axhand into a wall on a wild charge. During your next turn, you quickly take some time to contemplate this: why would this particular Darkner hate Susie more than he would you?
Frankly, the answer could be anything: maybe he dislikes girls, the color purple, or an opponent with a shinier ax. But you take a shot in the dark anyway, making a wild guess and telling Hatchet Face that you’re both Lightners.
He immediately stops, eyes growing wide, axheads falling to his sides.
“!?!?”
You take the opportunity to SPARE him, ending the combat. And even though you’re no longer fighting, Susie still keeps her ax out, eyes wary of the brutish Darkner in front of you.
“What the heck was that all about?”
Hatchet Face makes a strange gesture with his axheads, giving you a slightly apologetic impression. He then points at you, Susie, and the tunnel leading behind him in succession, motioning for the two of you to follow him.
“...Okay. Whatever.”
Following Hatchet Face’s lead, you make much faster progress through the tunnels. It doesn’t take long for them to start sloping upward, and then you’re at another ladder leading upward. Climbing it (thankfully it’s a fair bit shorter than the other one) leads you to a large room, this one once again painted in bright primary colours. You’re back on the world’s surface again, you assume.
And this time, you’re really not alone. Six other individuals are in the room with you, Susie, and Hatchet Face: some kind of blonde head mechanical-spider thing, someone that looks like a more feminine version of Grillby, a whirling mass of glass, a black and white monster in a labcoat, and a Darkner so large they take up a third of the room all by themself.
But your attention is most drawn to the final figure in the center of the room, the one that looks to be directing the Darkners from an elevated platform.
He looks exactly like a Lightner. And not just any Lightner: a human Lightner. Black-haired, goateed, white-shirted, slightly dark-skinned, male.
The other occupants of the room don’t initially recognize your presence, all absorbed in their own tasks and pastimes. That all changes when Hatchet Face slams the flat of one of his axheads into the nearby wall with a loud thud, and then everyone’s attention is on the three of you.
“Well, well. Who have we got here?”
The Lightner in the middle nimbly jumps down from the dais, making his way over to where you and Susie are standing, still. He stops an arm’s length away from you, smiling slightly. Then realization dawns in his eyes.
“Ah. You’re Lightners, aren’t you? Oh, my manners: you can call me Jack. Apologies if Hatchet Face caused you any inconvenience.”
“Yeah, we are, and what was up with that?”
Jack chuckles slightly, shooting a glance at the aforementioned Darkner. “He’s been stationed underground to guard the secret entrance to our base. Something he should probably get back to.”
Hatchet Face straightens up at the obvious nudge, shooting Jack a sloppy salute and heading back down the ladder.
“Speaking of which… welcome! We’re the infamous Nine! Not that you’d know that, being Lightners and all, but… well—”
You ask if he’s a Lightner.
“Don’t interrupt me! Anyway, as I was saying, we’re the best pirates ever to sail the Woden Seas! We pull in the most loot of any crew, have an almost perfect record, and have never once gotten caught by—”
“There are nine of you?” Susie asks.
“Arrrrrrgh! Stop interrupting me! I spent, like, a week preparing this speech!”
Jack seems mildly annoyed. Both Susie and the glass Darkner seem to find this hilarious, but holds her tongue regardless. When he feels certain he’s not going to get interrupted again, he responds:
“No, there aren’t, but that’s going to change if you two join up! See, I’m the captain, obviously, and we’re always recruiting. You two both seem combat-ready, could help out against the…”
His voice comes down to a whisper.
“...the Dragon.”
“What dragon?”
“No, uppercase letters. The Dragon .”
“...what Dragon?”
The roaring mass of vaguely-feminine flames speaks up, dull monotone voice a sharp contrast from her flickering, burning appearance.
“Little while back, thanks to some strange knight, the Commodores got their hands on some weird dragon thing. They’ve been using it to oppress us pirates even more than they were before.”
Jack nods. “Since then, we’ve been pretty much the only ones fighting back against its cruel tyranny. And it hasn’t been going well. Your assistance could turn the tide. Will you join us? Become our eighth and ninth?”
It’s an interesting choice. Before you can make it, however, you hear a series of loud clanging noises from down below. In particular, you almost think you can make out the specific sound of Hatchet Face’s hand slamming into a wall, a vaguely muffled voice reading something out.
Jack hears it too and pales. “Uh oh. Everybody cheese it!”
And within moments, the ‘infamous Nine’ are all speedily out the door (in the case of the massive member, through a wall, leaving you and Susie alone.
The trapdoor opens again, and the person that comes out is not Hatchet Face.
He’s humanoid, with a silver visor covering his face and a predominantly dark blue body. Clearly robotic, mechanical, with obvious joints and screws. One arm is missing, while the other one holds a massive red-bladed halberd, twice as long as he is tall. Overall, you’re not sure if his appearance reminds you more of Queen or of Berdly.
He doesn’t open his mouth--actually, you’re not even sure if he has a mouth—but you still hear, as if played through tinny speakers, him talk, ask a simple query:
“You gonna fight me?”
You say no. He steps closer to you, tilting his head. Faintly, you smell copper.
“You don’t look like one.”
...You’re not sure how to reply to that non-sequitur. Don’t look like a what? Did he even hear you?
Susie gasps, materializing her ax in one hand. With the other, she points directly at his red halberd blade. His bright red halberd blade.
It’s dripping.
Hatchet Face was down there… fighting...
Looks like he lost.
“You’re telling the truth,” the tin man states definitively, his arm jerking downward, tip of his weapon pointed directly at you. His voice sounds recorded. You’re not sure if he possesses any sentience at all, at this point. A robot going through the motions, saying random things, uncorrelated with—
YOU’VE GOT THE [[LIGHT]]. WHY DON’T YOU [[Show it off?]]
You shiver.
SO BIG WE'LL STAND UP TALL AND SEE PAST THE DARK
“Kris… You okay?”
DO YOU WANNA BE A [HEART] ON A [CHAIN] YOUR WHOLE LIFE!?
You draw your sword, tell Susie to attack.
“You need a hospital?”
Perhaps.
“You’re a new face.”
You duck under a swipe from Armmaster’s halberd while Susie chops at his flank, an attack he does nothing to dodge. You see circuits and wires sparking and jerking in the many cavities the two of you have delivered. And yet, he simply continues pressing his offense against you even while his metal skin is torn open like a tin can, begins chuckling warmly, as if you’d just told him a hilarious joke.
It’s getting on Susie’s nerves too.
“Would you shut up?”
Armmaster launches another volley of attacks, ones which you’re barely able to dodge, then ‘responds’.
“I wouldn’t know.”
You wonder where he’s sourcing his dialogue from. Spamton’s seemed to come from sleazy pop-up ads, spam emails, malware. Armmaster’s dialogue, while less frenetic, makes just as much sense, maybe even less. And yet, it seems too specific to be literally just random.
“These guys. They knew I was coming?”
Even as you slice again at his weapon arm, you ponder. That almost made sense in context, if he was referring to the Nine. Probably a coincidence.
Susie voices your thoughts for you, thankfully allowing you to concentrate on evading a new attack of his, one where he launches lasers from the tip of his halberd.
“You mean the Nine? Yeah?”
“Could you have taken them in a fight?”
You have no idea.
Before he or you can respond, Susie finally lands a killing blow, lodging her ax into Armmaster’s neck and tearing it open like tissue paper. The robotic mannequin(?) flops to the ground, like a puppet with its strings cut a robot that just took an ax chop to the neck. His halberd falls out of his hand and the sparking about all of his wounds intensifies.
And still, he continues speaking. He doesn’t stop speaking. He won’t stop speaking.
“Are you aware of the Tinker classification?” he asks.
“Are you aware of the Tinker classification?” he asks again.
“Are you awaaaaaaaaare of _ Tinker classi-classi-fication?” he asks, a third time.
You are not aware of the Tinker classification.
“Are-” “are “oftink” “” clas” fic” “ ‘---- you the of”
The whole building shakes, even as Armmaster’s dialogue grows glitchier and glitcher, looping painfully. You step away from his still body, looking about for the cause. You think you catch sight of a flash of green at the window, but you can’t be sure, the building’s shaking too much for you to really tell.
“Tinke””r” Ti”nker tinker “class a”ware”
The roof comes off, bright blue and red fragments flying everywhere. One falls directly on top of Armmaster, crushing him completely. That, however, is not the centerpiece of your attention. You have something much, much bigger to be examining.
A massive green dragon, specifically. So big it holds the roof in one great green claw, red eyes staring down at you, sharp bronze teeth adding to the menace in the air. Susie gapes uncomprehendingly. On its chest is a massive television screen with a simple pixellated frowny face on it.
It’s huge, majestic. Terrifying. It spreads its wings, covered in bright green glowing circuits, opens its mouth, and roars.
You get the feeling you’re not in for a good time.
