Chapter Text
It almost felt personal, which had no right being anyway for two adventurous teens – it still did.
She saved her best friend at the cost of destroying her wand with one of the very first spells she had ever learned from her parents; an evil castle obliterated, a greater scope villain disappeared, and a shaky truce crumbled in the process.
For a brief moment, it seemed all hopes of ever doing magic in the palm of her hand had been lost. As she had hugged her best friend, one revelation had seeped into her mind: she had lost the one family heirloom that was passed down from generation to generation all thanks to her being at the mercy of a greater evil that not even she could have ever imagined.
All this would not have happened had they been too reckless for their own good - that or they had not shared their sandwiches in the first place.
But then, there was a glimmer of hope, in the form of a tiny unicorn who was able to revive the wand and bring it back to a somewhat modified version of what the young princess was wielding when she first got it from her parents, sans half of the star being lost somewhere in Mewni. It was ‘cleaved’, as one of their faithful companions put it – to bond together or to break apart; there was very much a big emphasis on the latter as it stands.
After some discussion and clearing up back at the Butterfly Castle, it was time for the teens to get back to Earth and regroup after what felt like the longest day of their lives so far. Unbeknownst to them and the Diaz family en route back, however, a strange, hooded figure out in the distance, was watching them.
The radio in his ear cackled in static, and a ragged voice came through.
“St. Olga’s to ‘AC’, what’s your status?”
“It seems your hunch was right.”
“You found the princesses?” A menacing female voice said to him.
“Yes, ma’am. And it looks like they’re on their way back to Earth.”
“Hey, just so you know, if you do this, traveling back in time and all…” The ragged voice quickly became skeptical, seeming they know about the risks about the plan that ‘AC’ had possibly devised.
“I know what I am getting into,” The figure interrupted with confidence. “I can’t assure you that it is fully foolproof. After all, I’m working double duties now thanks to you. You won’t hear me complaining though.”
“Well, let me remind you that your so-called duties barely matter to us right now. You’re only there for one purpose: get those princesses what they deserve, or don’t come back at all.” The female voice grimly said, before hanging up on him.
“Whatever you say, English.” The figure quipped before doing the same.
Whoever this figure was, he understood that he had to respect their authority or suffer the fatal consequences. Or possibly not, considering the state of St. Olga’s after the revolution that ensued before.
“I never truly asked for this kind of job, but if it gives me an excuse to cause a little chaos, then I’d gladly do it. My other ‘duty’ might say otherwise or agree with me – or both.”
The other duty in question is for the Squeaky Cleaning Company, or simply known by their nickname, the “Cleaners”. The only caveat was that they have never been heard about ever since they fell off the radar all those years ago today – so how would it be possible that he would be working for a near-extinct association from Earth?
Needless to say, his goals are far beyond anyone’s understanding, at least not yet.
Using his tracker gadgetry, he switched radio channels to the other side, only to hear chaos ensue just by hearing gunfire and explosions bang in his ear – from the way he flinched at the sound, he knew that it was bad. Various voices of cleaners were blurting out as it sounded like they were pinned down hard.
“We are being ambushed, repeat, we are being ambushed! They’re after us!”
“Get the lead out! Payne and Sax are – aagh!”
“The guys in the van aren’t waiting for us any longer. We have to go back to the site now! God forbid they don’t follow us there!”
That last quip only meant one thing: They were on their way back to the area where he was stationed in the first place.
“As if I didn’t need any more complications to this debacle. So much for being foolproof.”
Without hesitation, he pulled out his special dimensional bowie knife and headed back to said area: a condemned building at the brink of demolition soaked under an army of dark skies in New York City. His first instinct was to get back to his planning spot fast.
“Connors? Where the hell have you been?” said one of the cleaners in his direction.
“No time to explain.” The cloaked figure said hurriedly, keeping his secret in check.
Upon arrival to his spot, he got a good look of the plans, top to bottom. It was largely detailed with string theories and photographs that he has devised. It became clear to this confident bounty hunter that he’d not only eliminate the precious cargos, but to do it the only way he knew how – if one would call sending them back in time and eliminating them as collateral damage a way to cause chaos.
Not being one to be disturbed, he simply pointed at the door, magically slamming it shut behind him. He removed his jacket cloak, revealing himself to be one of the many henchmen of the “Company”, jumpsuit, pistols, attitudes, and all, as well as sporting a single red strand of hair in front to boot, mainly because it looked cool, not to mention it glows every now and then.
He made a voice log before making his next move:
“So, we’ve got two princesses and two new curveballs into the mix. Things just got a whole lot more interesting. At the very least, if I keep myself intact like this for the long run, this bounty hunting schtick might pay off big time once more. I think it’s time to start here – Isolation Point…”