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Chapter Text

The sky above his head was littered with artificial lights. Almost every inch of its surface contained some form of sky markers for traffic or garish, in-your-face advertisements.

Looming above all that was a massive ecological starship and even further than that, an immeasurable sub-space barrier made of inter-connected golden blocks that flashed now and then, reflecting the brilliance of Qlipoth the Preservation.

To think that this was the first sky he would see upon leaving Penacony. 

“Hmm, you seem relaxed,” Kafka said, “Not worried you’ll be caught? You are a wanted man now, after all.” 

“I could say the same to you, Miss Kafka,” Sunday replied, “A woman worth 10.899 billion credits sauntering casually down the streets of the IPC’s holy land. One can only wonder what a delightful scene might unfold if your perception filter were to fail.” 

“What better place to celebrate a successful mission? Pier Point…the other planet of indulgence and decadence that isn’t Penacony that is,” Kafka drawled. 

She tapped the perception filter device she was wearing on her waist carelessly. The two of them continued down the street, blending into the constant crowd of people passing through the thoroughfare. 

“You’re the one that decided to follow me off my starship, Birdie…”

“Would you have agreed to drop me off elsewhere if I hadn’t agreed to come along?” Sunday asked dryly. 

Kafka paused in her tracks, smiling faintly, “Check your script.” 

Sunday toyed with the corner of the paper folder she had given him earlier. He stopped himself. Fiddling with things was a bad habit for the Head of the Oak Family…

…but he wasn’t the Head of the Oak Family anymore, was he? 

Now he was a wanted criminal, a blasphemous sinner who had become the enemy of all he had sought to save… 

Slowly, he ripped off a corner of the paper folder, letting it swirl away from his fingers in the passing breeze. Sunday watched the fragment of paper disappear from the corner of his eye before it left his vision. 

Kafka led them to a block of luxury apartments. They stopped outside the door and Kafka rang the doorbell. 

“One of my colleagues will be joining us later. It’s our little custom to take some downtime before our next mission comes along,” she knocked the door again, “Open up, Bladie, it’s me.” 

The door opened. A sword shot out through the gap at neck level. Kafka tilted her head back, pulling out a gun in the same motion and aiming it squarely through the gap. 

The man standing on the other side of the door stared at them without any expression. 

“Must we do this song and dance every time I come home?” Kafka raised a brow.

Burning red eyes swept past Kafka’s face, pausing to fix Sunday with an intense stare. 

“Who’s this?” 

Sunday tilted his head. It was new to meet someone who had no idea who he was. 

“He’s the new recruit.” “I’m a hostage.” 

Kafka turned to look at Sunday, then turned to look at Blade again with a shrug, “What he said. Are you going to let us in?” 

Blade gave a grunt and lowered his sword, stalking into the apartment. Sunday followed Kafka in, casting one last glance at the view outside the apartment. 

The interior of the apartment was small and cosy. There was a living room filled with beanbags and a staggering amount of game consoles attached to a wide, wall-mounted screen next to an open kitchen and a corridor leading further in. The dining table in the kitchen was stacked high with a bunch of groceries which Kafka began to examine. 

“We’re short on milk. You two can start preparing dinner while I go get some,” Kafka announced, “Don’t. Burn down the apartment.” 

The front door closed behind her. The two men stared at each other, sizing each other up. 

“I am Sunday,” Sunday said. He paused to gauge Blade’s reaction, or rather lack thereof, “I’m a wanted criminal.”

No reaction. 

“I was the Head of the Oak Family in Penacony until recently. I tried to bring the Asdana system into an eternal paradise by manifesting the Order.” 

Still no reaction. Sunday examined Blade intently. 

“Blade,” Blade stated, “It’s better that you don’t know me.” He turned to the kitchen and picked up an apron from a hook. He stared momentarily at the teddy bear on its front and then began to put on the apron. 

There wasn't much information to go off. The name ‘Blade’, a coat with the Xianzhou Alliance aesthetic, a Stellaron Hunter…

Ah. 

“8.13 billion credits,” Sunday recalled.

Blade turned to face him, “What?”

“You don’t watch the news very often, do you, Mr Blade?” Sunday smiled lightly. 

“Hrm. Just Blade,” Blade growled, “Make yourself useful. Do you know how to cook?”

“Do you?” Sunday tilted his head curiously. 

“No,” Blade replied. He frowned at the kitchen table. 

It shouldn’t be too difficult. Robin used to bake cookies for him all the time back when they were kids. What was that dish his sister had made the one time…? “Let’s start with a souffle.” 

Sunday rolled up his sleeves, picking out ingredients on the table. What went into a souffle again? Eggs, flour, sugar, milk…ah, they didn’t have milk. 

He picked up a carton containing energized milky tofu spores. This would probably work since it had the word ‘milk’ in it, right? He tossed it into a bowl. 

What else…? Robin also mentioned before that it was good to add some salt when baking. A tablespoon or two probably wouldn’t hurt. Maybe three just to be sure. Well, five was a nice round number. 

“Do you know what you’re doing?” Blade eyed the murky, bubbling concoction with some suspicion. 

The eternal question. After recent events, it was a little difficult to give as clear an answer as he once could. 

He pushed aside the thought before it could start to pierce. 

“Let’s ponder it over as a thought experiment,” Sunday said as he pushed the covered bowl into the oven, “Consider the following options: One, perhaps this is an attempt to punish the wicked and atone for my sins by poisoning the Stellaron Hunters. Two, this is a heartfelt attempt at expressing gratitude for the gracious rescue of a lowly sinner…”

He straightened, smiling beatifically, “Which option would you choose, I wonder?” 

“False dichotomy,” Blade growled, “What are you, a man of the cloth?” 

“More of a…blasphemer these days, I’m afraid,” Sunday replied, “Much like you who was once an adherent of the Hunt.” 

“…are you seeking death?” Blade raised a brow. 

Sunday shook his head, reciting in a kindly tone, “The Odes of Harmony state that as long as one lives, even the most tainted soul has the opportunity to repent and to do good. Perhaps that is a perspective one who is famed for seeking death might consider.”

“I don’t want to hear it from a would-be god,” Blade snorted.

Sunday’s lips curled up like a cat that had seen its prey. He opened his mouth, about to continue, but both men paused as they heard an odd noise coming from the oven. 

“The oven is knocking,” Blade stated flatly. 

“That does appear to be the case,” Sunday nodded once. 

The two of them continued to watch the oven carefully. The knocking turned into a banging, and then a piercing, screeching sound shrieked out as something clawed aggressively at the inside of the oven. The oven door slowly began to deform. 

Blade gave Sunday a deadpan stare. 

“I believe…” Sunday slowly began, “You carry a sword, don’t you, Blade?” 

Blade growled, “Stand back.” 

Sunday took one step out of the kitchen before he paused, unable to resist glancing back. 

Blade’s sword flashed down on the bulging oven. 

Two hours later… 

“‘Don’t burn down the apartment’,” Kafka drawled. She sipped her martini, leaning back in her armchair. She closed her eyes briefly, savouring the bittersweet taste, “I think I remember saying something like that,” she nodded to herself, “Yes, I’m sure I did.” 

Blade glowered into his beer. Sunday was looking out of the window of the bar they were sitting in, his gaze transfixed. He had yet to touch the flute of champagne sitting in front of him.

There was a spire of smoke rising into the sky from where the apartment had been- it could be seen all across Pier Point for miles and miles. The IPC goons were probably still waging battle against the lifeforms that had emerged from the oven. 

Sunday heard himself laugh. A small, repressed chuckle bubbled impulsively out of him. He stopped himself, surprised. 

Blade looked at Sunday and snorted. 

“Troublemaker,” he said, “You’ll fit right in.” 

Chapter Text

In a narrow, dark service corridor, two figures walked briskly along. Away from the glitz and glam of the world outside, this was a space that never saw the light of day, hidden deep within one of the many skyscrapers packed densely across Pier Point. 

Eventually, the corridor widened out into a large chamber filled with rows and rows of servers. One of the IPC’s hidden information nodes. 

It was silent here. The intruders had somehow managed to pick a perfect time to enter, on a day where the ten minute maintenance of the security system was coincidentally delayed by an hour because of a careless intern spilling coffee on a control panel. 

“I don’t get you,” a voice rang out in that quiet space. 

“What do you mean, Miss Silver Wolf?” 

Sunday leaned against a server rack with his arms folded. Nearby, Silver Wolf cracked her knuckles and rolled her shoulders before beginning to type at lightning speed on a holographic console. 

“Why are you still here?” Silver Wolf asked. She didn’t stop typing even as she spoke. 

“If I’m not mistaken,” Sunday pulled out his words deliberately, “I believe you invited me to join you for this mission, Miss Silver Wolf.” 

“‘Demanded’, not invited,” Silver Wolf told him, “You owe me one for blowing up our apartment and all my game consoles.” 

“It appears that you’ve answered your own question, Miss Silver Wolf,” Sunday placed a hand over his heart, casting his gaze humbly to the ground, “Is it so hard to believe that I simply wish to atone for my sins?” 

Silver Wolf shot him a quick glance before she returned to work, “I’d believe that if you weren’t smiling so happily.” 

“I’m smiling again…?” she heard him murmur almost inaudibly behind her. 

“You’re lucky I always back up my progress after every game,” continued Silver Wolf, “Otherwise, we’d be having a whole different conversation, y’know?” 

“These games…” Sunday paused. In the dimness of the server chamber, his yellow-blue eyes glittered faintly as he folded his arms, “…why are they important to you?” 

“Are you serious?” Silver Wolf shook her head. She thought for a moment. He didn’t sound like he was disparaging her gaming habits. If anything, he just sounded genuinely curious. She shrugged, “Haven’t you played any video games before?” 

“Yes, I have,” Sunday replied. 

Silver Wolf actually had to pause at that. She turned around and stared at him for a moment, “You have?” she asked incredulously, “You of all people? Seriously?” 

Sunday nodded, “Is this truly that suprising?” 

Silver Wolf cupped her chin, “This I have to hear. A Family Head playing video games, huh? What video games have you played?” 

“Star Idol, Star Idol 2, Star Idol Gold Edition…” Sunday counted several games on his fingers one by one, “Promotional games can be an effective means of ensuring market relevance and popularity for a star.” 

“I’ve played those games before,” Silver Wolf drawled as she returned to her console, “…you’ve really got a terminal case of siscon, huh?”

Sunday tilted his head, “What is ‘siscon’?” 

“So you’ve never actually played video games for fun then?” Silver Wolf continued, ignoring his question, “Didn’t you ever have any kind of fun at all back in Penacony of all places?” 

He didn’t answer for a moment. Silver Wolf was tempted to turn around again but she had work to do. 

“You still there?” she called back instead. She was almost done. Just a few more lines of code… 

“…I took tea breaks on Sundays,” Sunday said slowly. 

Silver Wolf had to stop again. She stared at him flatly, “What?” 

“Tea breaks on Sundays,” Sunday repeated patiently, perhaps thinking that she hadn’t heard him the first time, “It was…a sinful indulgence,” he continued, “I spent a whole hour doing nothing productive and ignoring any messages that came in. It's deeply regrettable but I could have done more for Penacony in those wasted hours.” 

“No,” Silver Wolf finished up, her console winking out of existence as she got up. 

Sunday blinked at her, “No?” he repeated. 

“No,” Silver Wolf sighed, “No wonder Elio’s script wrote that we’d be delayed. C’mon, there’s something else we have to do before we leave.” 

“Do you always follow the Destiny Slave’s scripts without question?” Sunday narrowed his eyes. 

“Do you know how irritating it is when the scriptwriter knows which lines of script you’ll ignore?” Silver Wolf replied dryly. A spray can materialized in her hand and she tossed it at Sunday, “Take this.” 

Sunday caught the spray can, examining it carefully. 

He turned to Silver Wolf, eyes flashing with an unreadable emotion, “…Why?” 

“Would you believe me if I told you it was part of my script?” Silver Wolf stared back at him. 

Sunday considered her for a moment, and then asked, “…is it part of your script?”

“No,” Silver Wolf replied, “This is just…” she sighed, “It’s just something I realized we had to do.” 

Sunday let out a faint laugh, “Is that so?” he spread his arms, “Then please, lead the way, Miss Silver Wolf.” 

Silver Wolf nodded. She walked forward until she found a suitable spot, a large unobstructed patch of wall that could be seen the moment anyone entered the chamber. 

She took out another spray can and gave it a good shake before spraying it. Her usual trademark symbol appeared at once, taking shape across half the space. 

Silver Wolf turned and looked up at Sunday, “Your turn.” 

Sunday stared back at her, nonplussed. 

“Think of something and then just use the can,” Silver Wolf checked a non-existent watch on her wrist, “We don’t have all day.” 

Sunday turned to look at the blank patch of wall. He paused and then said, “It’s…been so long since I’ve drawn anything.” 

Slowly he raised his arm and an image began to form on the blank wall. 

Robin sighed as she let herself fall back onto her bed. Lazily, she kicked off her shoes and crawled over, putting her face on a pillow for a moment. It had been another long, fruitless day. She'd tried asking around and looking everywhere. Sometimes in disguise, even.

Nothing. There was nothing. There was no news of Sunday. None at all. Nobody would tell her what had happened to him. All she had was the notebook the Trailblazer had found. 

If she could just know he was alright…even just knowing for sure if he was alive somewhere… 

Her phone buzzed. Robin hurriedly opened it. There was a message. 

‘I FOUND IT!’ - Trailblazer uwu

All caps, huh? Robin stared at the message through half-lidded eyes, an awkward smile on her face as she typed a reply. 

‘What did you find?’ Robin typed back. 

An image file came through. Robin squinted at it. It was taken somewhere quite dark. A piece of graffiti? She zoomed in and then her eyes widened. 

It was an image of a Charmony Dove. It was coloured just like the one they had tried to raise when they were little…

…and it was next to another piece of graffiti. Silver Wolf of the Stellaron Hunters. 

Sunday was alive. 

Sunday was well enough to paint graffiti. 

Sunday was alive.

She let out a deep breath, tension draining out of her frame. Her phone buzzed again. 

‘u ded?’ - Trailblazer uwu

Robin chewed her lip. 

‘Nope, not dead! Where is this from?’ she typed back. Her heart began to pound in her chest as doubts began to arise. She wasn’t sure she wanted to know. She almost wanted to ask if this was real…

Another attachment, a link to a news article this time. 

‘Mystery Break-In at Pier Point, Silver Wolf and New Stellaron Hunter?’ 

Her mind inevitably swerved to the one place she did not want it to go. 

Sunday was a Stellaron Hunter now? 

Robin set her phone down and sighed, staring up at the ceiling. Emotions tumbled around inside her heart, flowing too quickly for her to identify. 

Slowly, she held her phone again and typed a reply. 

‘Thank you so much.’ No matter how she felt, this needed to be said. 

‘YWYW! Gimme tix 4 ur next gig!!!’ - Trailblazer uwu

Robin smiled and sent back an emote of herself giving a thumbs up. 

She stared at the conversation thread for a long moment and then slowly scrolled back up to the picture the Trailblazer had sent. 

It was a cute picture. Sunday somehow always ended up drawing things cutely since they were kids even though he always insisted that his drawings were meant to be realistic. 

Robin bit her lip. She looked around warily even though obviously no one was in her room. 

Somewhat guiltily, she downloaded the image and cropped it down to Sunday’s Charmony Dove. She stared at it again. It really was very cute, wasn’t it?

Her hand moved up to her settings, seemingly of its own will. Her wallpaper was changed. 

Robin stared at the damning graffiti on her phone and hurriedly locked the screen. 

Well, it was not like anyone else would be able to recognize it, right? She just had to avoid showing her phone to anyone else who might have seen a picture of their Charmony Dove, right?

Robin looked around again. She unlocked her phone. 

Her thumb moved on its own accord and downloaded the article as well. 

“This is just for research purposes,” Robin assured herself, “I just want to find out what happened to him.” 

Yes, that was a very reasonable conclusion. 

Her phone buzzed again. She jumped and juggled the phone, nearly dropping it. 

‘MARCH WANTS A TIX TOO!’ - Trailblazer uwu

Robin sighed in relief. 

‘OK,’ she typed back in reply. Her phone buzzed back again almost immediately.

‘u put it on ur wallpaper too dint u? :3’ - Trailblazer uwu

Robin forced on a smile as a vein in her temple began to twitch.

Chapter Text

“I shall ascend to the heavens,” a deep, reverberrating voice boomed, “Becoming the scorching sun.” 

In the darkness he stood for an interminable time, staring at the nothingness all around him. 

That voice, a familiar voice… 

A harsh spotlight shone down from above, turning his vision white. 

“Bathed in my light my people shall flourish, while all evil shall be eradicated.”

THEIR voice, his own voice, 107,336 voices singing, choking in forceful, triumphant unison before abruptly cutting out in a crash of twisted false gold and stained black, falling, falling, falling- 

Sunday opened his eyes and saw darkness. But it wasn’t that same fathomless darkness from before.

His eyes adjusted to the light. The dim glow from the constantly advert-filled skies of Pier Point filtered through the curtains of the a modest apartment somewhere deep within the urban sprawl. 

A gramophone on a counter besides the armchair he was sitting in. A bottle of wine sat on a glass kitchen counter nearby next to a few used glasses. 

Sunday closed his eyes briefly. 

“The dream is over…” 

This was when he’d normally be looking for a nice, dry financial report to work on. 

Avoid wasting time. Avoid being unproductive…being useless, because otherwise…

Almost reflexively, he rose from his seat to go look for one but then he paused, gazing at the gap between the curtains at that unfamiliar sky. 

Ah. There were no more reports to make. No more budgets to approve. 

There was only the script that Kafka had handed him. 

It lay on the coffee table, left haphazardly where he’d tossed it. He reached out towards it, running a finger along the edge of the file, almost, almost opening it again.

“Having trouble sleeping?” 

Sunday did not start. He’d sensed that she had walked in at some point during his contemplations. Instead, he simply raised his head, meeting Kafka’s gaze with a gentle smile. 

“…is Elio your god, Miss Kafka?” he asked softly.

Kafka stared at him for a moment. She walked over to the counter and leaned over it, pouring herself a glass of wine. 

“Why do you ask?” she shook her glass at him lightly, “Don’t tell me…you’re looking for some kind of redemption?” 

Redemption? If this was what redemption was supposed to be, moving from one god to the next, from the Harmony, to the Order, to the mysterious Elio… 

“You follow the script he gives you, giving up your agency and allowing him to dictate the steps that you take,” Sunday continued, “Doesn’t this mean you’ve given up on the concept of free will?” 

“Hmm…now that’s a tough one,” Kafka mused, circling the edge of the glass with a finger. She shrugged, “I don’t believe Elio is a god,” Kafka announced, “The choices I make may be scripted but I never expected to be saved by Elio or his script anyway.” 

But, if salvation was non-existent to begin with, then… 

“I don’t care whether free will truly exists or whether I’m fated to damnation or not. I still choose to believe in free will,” Kafka shrugged, “Because…somebody needs to take responsibility for my actions at the end of the day. Why not me?” 

“Heh…” Sunday sighed. He closed his eyes briefly, a breathy little laugh coming out of him, “…then consider this- What if I tear up this script right now? What if…in that moment when I was using my phone two hours ago, I was sending out a message to inform the IPC of our location?” 

“You didn’t and you won’t,” Kafka pointed out. 

“Because of the script?” Sunday asked dryly, “Because it says we will be dancing at a masquerade tomorrow?” 

He let out a short laugh, “I regret to inform you that it’s been many years since I’ve even danced. It’s quite possible that I’ve completely forgotten how by now.” 

Because it wasn’t appropriate for the Head of the Oak Family to get close to anyone. Because he was an impartial and dignified authority. Because he was a saint, tasked to bring salvation to the sinners by 107,336. 

Kafka set down her wine glass. She walked over to the gramophone and switched it on. Then she turned to him and offered him a hand. 

Sunday rose and took her hand, baring his teeth. 

They both slipped into a waltz quite naturally as the gramophone began to play. Slowly at first, as Sunday recalled the steps, then falling into sync with the music as time went on. 

“You could leave right now, Birdie,” Kafka’s breath was warm against his ear, “Steal a starship. Go anywhere you like in the cosmos.” 

“You’re free,” she said, pausing as they turned together. 

He gazed into her eyes, seeing his own reflection. 

“Do you choose to believe…I’m telling you the truth?” Kafka smiled. 

The lights in the living room flickered on. They both glanced up, watching as Silver Wolf trudged towards the couch with a yawn. 

“Hey, you don’t have to stop because of me,” she grumbled, “I just have to finish something.” 

Sunday walked over, curious. 

“A game, Miss Silver Wolf?” Sunday asked her, taking a seat on the other end of the couch. 

“Yes,” Silver Wolf frowned as she picked up a controller, “This level’s been bugging me the whole night.” 

The sound of footsteps caught his ear. Sunday glanced up in time to see Blade stalking into the living room. 

“Couldn’t sleep, Bladie?” Kafka asked from the counter. She poured a new glass for herself and slid a second glass towards Blade. 

“Too noisy,” Blade accepted the wine glass, frowned into the red liquid before he tilted back the glass slowly, “There’s no point trying to sleep.” 

Silver Wolf looked at Sunday thoughtfully for a moment and then passed him a second controller, “There’s a multiplayer mode,” she said, “Maybe some competition will help me clear the map faster.” 

Sunday tilted his head. He held the controller gingerly like it was some kind of alien device, staring down at the colourful buttons, “I’m not familiar with the controls.” 

“It’s not difficult. You just have to git gud,” Silver Wolf shrugged as she started up the game. 

The night continued on, moving slowly towards the day, towards the next line of the script. 

At some point, Blade had taken over the armchair, whetting his sword. The rhythmic creak of metal against metal slid through the air. 

Silver Wolf gritted her teeth, turning to Sunday with a look of suspicion on her face, “Are you sure you’ve never played this game before?” 

“It’s my first time playing this game,” Sunday told her dutifully. He tapped his chin with an index, “What was it you told me earlier…?”

Sunday waited until he had her full attention before he shot her a bright smile, “Maybe you just need to…‘git gud’ as they say, Miss Silver Wolf.”

“You…you are telling me, Silver Wolf, to ‘git gud’?” Silver Wolf’s normally dull eyes burned with a maniacal glow, “You don’t say? I’ll show you. I’ll show you all. I’ll beat you…off the leaderboard, just you wait.” 

Sunday leaned back subconsciously as he set down his controller, “I’ll…leave it to you then, Miss Silver Wolf.” 

Silver Wolf gave a growl, entirely focused on the screen as she started up the game again. 

Kafka’s chuckle lingered in his ears as she leaned against the armrest of the couch. 

“What do you think, Birdie? Are we sinners living in sin?” she murmured, glancing at him. 

Sunday’s gaze swept across the small apartment, at the dark presence of Blade hunching over his sword, at Silver Wolf baring her teeth at the screen. 

Living in a false semblance of freedom while knowingly, hypocritically following a script…

“…what a sinful, indulgent way to live,” said Sunday. 

But he found himself smiling as he spoke. 

Topaz scrolled through her phone with a grin. At her feet, Numby rolled around and around on the floor in a ball, making circles around the armchair she was sitting on. 

In the background, there was a constant racket from luggage being forcefully stuffed.

“If you’re going to insist on being in this room, the least you could do is to help,” Aventurine growled as he wrestled with another latch. The luggage case was bulging, almost bursting at the seams as he tried to stuff yet another luxurious coat into its confines. 

“Hey, I’m already giving you a lift to Pier Point, aren’t I?” Topaz shrugged, “The least you could do is to show a little gratitude.” 

“Why thank you, Topaz. I’m absolutely thrilled to be heading back to Pier Point,” Aventurine sighed as he finally managed to close the luggage case. 

Topaz looked up from her phone at that, shooting him a commiserating look, “It won’t be that bad. You did get a strong foothold to reclaim Penacony for the IPC.”

Aventurine blinked at her, “You really think so?” he asked hopefully.

Topaz shrugged, “Nope, you’re screwed. You broke a Cornerstone! That’s more valuable than a mere star system. But maybe Diamond will have mercy on you.” 

“Oh great,” Aventurine slumped, “That’s just peachy.” 

“At least you’ll not be in danger of meeting that winged psycho again,” Topaz pointed out, “Look on the bright side.” 

Aventurine shot her a look of distaste, “I’m not concerned about meeting him again at all. I’ve already beaten him at his own game once before. I’ll do it again if I have to.” 

“So that’s not why you’re still hiding in your room even after the Galaxy Ranger’s left the system?” Topaz tilted her head curiously. 

Aventurine coughed, looking away, “Of course not. Getting, ahem, mindblasted by that featherbrain was all…just part of the plan.” 

“Sure,” Topaz shrugged. She smiled happily to herself as she continued to look through her phone. Aventurine looked at her suspiciously. 

“What’s so funny?” 

Topaz tilted her phone to show him, “There’s a new Stellaron Hunter following Silver Wolf around. Look, they left this piece of graffiti in a server chamber at Pier Point. It’s so cute, isn’t it? Can you imagine a Stellaron Hunter drawing a cute little bird like that?”

Aventurine squinted at the graffiti skeptically, “I…don’t like it. It looks like a child’s doodle to me anyway,” he scoffed. 

Topaz rolled her eyes, “Well, it’s trending right now. Someone’s even started making t-shirts. It could be a good investment opportunity.” 

“What, while thumbing your nose at the almighty IPC by endorsing Stellaron Hunter merch?” Aventurine raised a brow, “You work for the IPC, in case you forgot.” 

“Hey, money is king in the IPC,” Topaz shrugged, “I’m sure Diamond won’t mind as long as my investments bring in revenue.” 

“Hmph, well it looks like I’ll have to think of some way to bring in revenue before I meet Diamond then,” Aventurine’s gaze narrowed calculatively, “If I can make enough money to buy my way out of this…well they do say that any problem you can throw money at isn’t a problem at all…” 

Topaz watched Aventurine go, grinning wickedly to himself as he exited the hotel room. She rolled her eyes and turned to Numby, showing the warp trotter her phone. 

“What do you think, Numby? Cute or nay?” Topaz paused, peering at the graffiti thoughtfully. Slowly, she said, “This bird…it kind of looks like Robin, doesn’t it?” 

Numby snorted cutely. 

“You’re right, it’s probably nothing important,” Topaz shrugged. She smiled as she scrolled through the ever growing list of merch, “…Stellaron Hunter Dove, huh?” 

Chapter Text

In the depths of space, a starship grew closer and closer to the golden glow of the Preservation's subspace wall, towards the home of the IPC, Pier Point.

Topaz paid no attention to the scenery outside the porthole. She kicked her feet up against the armrest of the couch she was lying on. She scanned the screen in front of her, completely absorbed.

‘u got the goods?’ she typed into her phone. 

‘Is this line secure?’ - starrybird 

Topaz poked her tongue out of the corner of her mouth in anticipation.

‘100%,’ her fingers flew across the keys, ‘show me the goods’

A short but painfully long pause. 

‘Alright, here’s the latest catalogue. Please don’t show this to anyone, thank you.’ - starrybird 

Whoever this starrybird was, they sure were polite. Topaz scanned the attached list greedily, quickly indicating the items she wanted. 

‘That’s a lot of items,’ starrybird typed back, ‘I don’t mean to offend, but are you sure you can afford this?’ 

Topaz’ brow twitched. Her salary had been a little lower ever since she had been demoted due to the whole Belobog fiasco. She already had most of her cash parked in illiquid investments… 

…ah what the hell, this opportunity was too good to miss. If only she could get her hands on even more merch to meet the skyrocketing demand… 

She turned to Numby. The warp trotter wiggled in her lap, sniffed, and then gave a grunt that sounded affirmative. 

‘throw in the custom pet headband n ill pay upfront,’ Topaz typed back. 

‘It’s a deal! Don’t tell anyone who you got the goods from, please and thank you!’ - starrybird

“Yes!” Topaz clenched her fist.

Besides her, Aventurine had been watching the whole sequence of events with a gimlet eye. He’d been in the lounge of the starship with her the entire time.

“What’s got you so excited?” Aventurine asked, “I can’t imagine you’re looking forward to reporting to Diamond either.” 

“Well no, but you see while you, on one hand, have been agonizing over how to make money,” Topaz smiled, “I, on the other hand, have actually been making money.” 

“Oh?” Aventurine sniffed, “Is that so?” 

“Yours’ truly has just secured an exclusive deal to distribute Stellaron Hunter Dove merchandise throughout this sector of the cosmos,” Topaz said lightly, examining her nails, “We’re only looking at oh, maybe about three hundred million credits in profits, maybe four. I could have made even more if I had more disposable funds at the moment,” she shrugged nonchalantly. 

Aventurine narrowed his eyes dangerously. A moment later, a sly smile crossed his face. 

Topaz immediately turned to face away from him, “No.” 

“I haven’t even said anything yet!” Aventurine grumbled, folding his arms. 

“The answer’s still ‘no’,” Topaz told him, “The last time you gave me a look like that you came up with a plan to break your Cornerstone.” 

“Well my plan worked perfectly, didn’t it?” Aventurine spread his arms.

Topaz turned around and shot him a pointed look.

Aventurine had the grace to look away. He coughed into one hand, “Well…hear me out anyway,” he continued, “I swear I’ve got a great idea this time.”

“Really…?” Topaz drawled. She sat up. Beside her, Numby tilted its head, clearly doubtful as well. 

“You need some funds to buy more merch, right?” Aventurine grinned. 

“Yes, and you need more money so Diamond doesn’t break open your head. So?” Topaz asked. 

“So, I hear you’ve got an invite for the Jepella ambassador’s upcoming charity ball,” Aventurine leaned forward and raised an index, “Get me in as your plus one and I’ll acquire that suspicious ‘cultural treasure’ of theirs’. We sell it off and split the proceeds fifty fifty.”

“That’s assuming you can even get a hold of the thing,” Topaz pointed out, “They seem highly protective of it from what I’ve heard. They’re probably only even putting it up at the ball because it’d be even more suspicious to bring a ‘cultural treasure’ over and not show it to anyone. 

Topaz folded her arms, fixing him with a stare, “How exactly are you planning to scam it away from them?” 

“‘Scam’ is a bit of a strong word, isn’t it?” Aventurine rubbed his index against his thumb, “Everybody likes a little wager...and when it comes to enticing others to play along, I’m practically the foremost expert in the cosmos.” 

“You’re so modest,” Topaz marvelled. 

“Come on now,” Aventurine said in a persuasive tone, “This is a good deal for the both of us. You don’t even stand to lose anything if this doesn’t work out.” 

His eyes flashed with a devilish gleam as he extended his hand, “Why not take a gamble?” 

Topaz sighed. She was probably going to regret this, but… 

“Okay, go on,” she said. 

Aventurine grinned like a shark, “So here’s the plan…” 

As expected, any party on Pier Point was bound to be extravagant. The whole atmosphere of excessive feasting and overflowing alcohol made it feel like he had never left Penacony, even if he was usually the one making an appearance as a VIP rather than actually participating in the festivities. 

Crystal meteorites decorated the chandeliers on the ceiling, their golden glow pointing down towards a stage with a group of musicians playing soft music on strange instruments. Red brocade curtains edged with gold trim hung between the gaudy crystal pillars lining the sides of the dance hall. 

Animal-headed Jepella were scattered throughout the crowd amidst attending dignitaries of various other species. The crowd of humans, non-humans, and everything in between glided, slid and writhed across the dance floor. Without exception, everyone and everything was dressed to the nines. 

In the midst of the swirling sea of masked faces, two tall, dashing figures were dancing together in a slow waltz. 

Both were dressed in dapper suits. One in a deep black tailcoat suit, and the other in a pure white dovetail suit. 

“What is the plan here, exactly?” Sunday asked. 

His dance partner gave a low grunt. They made a turn together. They passed by the main stage at the end of the dance hall. 

Sunday had long since noticed the grand display case in pride of place, containing a head-sized, jewelled egg. There were two tiger-headed Jepella standing beside it, armed to the teeth. 

It didn’t take a Genius to guess that the Stellaron Hunters were here to steal this jewelled egg, except… 

“Didn’t you read your script?” Blade turned together in step with him. He was a surprisingly good dancer for a crazed, mara-struck swordsman. 

Except…how was this theft supposed to happen, exactly? 

“My script said ‘Drop an olive approximately one foot away from the third table on the mezzanine floor. Go dancing and wait for the next step’,” Sunday recited, “But why?” 

Blade adjusted his snarling dog mask. Contrary to the aggressive mask, his red eyes were dull and placid beneath, “If it wasn’t in your script then you don’t need to know.” 

“How very helpful,” Sunday murmured, “In the meantime, we simply proceed to dance amidst the rich and powerful of Pier Point? With not even a perception filter device to keep us unnoticed? With nothing but a few flimsy masks preventing us from being recognized?”

These were all very legitimate questions he was asking here. He didn't...wasn't...allowed to just do things without full preparations. Sunday tapped his dove mask. It was covered in white feathers. He had no idea why Silver Wolf had been smirking so much when she handed it to him. 

“Wait and see, Birdie, you’re going to like what happens next,” Kafka called as she passed them, dancing along with a dazed looking stranger. 

Sunday watched her go by. She looked so perfectly relaxed. The eight-eyed half-mask she was wearing should have been frightening but instead it provided a grotesquely elegant contrast against her long, wine red dress. 

“Why? Does your script have more information than mine?” Sunday persisted, “Was there any reason as to why I was tasked to commit the crime of littering?” 

“I don’t know,” Kafka shrugged. She paused to snag a hors d’oeuvre from a passing waiter. The man she had been dancing with staggered off into the crowd, looking confused. 

Sunday stared at her, unimpressed. 

“My script just said ‘Tell Sunday ‘I don’t know’ when he asks’,” Kafka thought for a moment, and then added, “Also ‘Elio says hi’.” 

“Elio…” Sunday narrowed his eyes.

“It doesn’t even count as a crime,” Blade snorted, “Haven’t you ever scattered food accidentally while eating?” 

“No, I don’t do such things. I avoid eating in public where possible in order to prevent such inappropriate mishaps from happening to me,” Sunday replied pleasantly, “This has been a successful strategy until today.”

Blade stared at him blankly for a long moment. They finished one dance and started another. Blade shook his head slowly, almost disbelievingly. 

“I can’t believe I’m the one saying this…” he told Sunday as they whirled around, “...but you have issues.” 

Aventurine’s fur-lined coat flared in his wake as he strode into the dance hall. He wore his coat off his shoulders like a cape. The peacock mask on his face gleamed with custom cut aventurine stones. The rings on his fingers glittered and flashed with every movement he made. 

He was ready for battle. 

Topaz strolled casually in after him, wearing a ruby red dress and a horned devil mask on her face. Numby squealed in her arms. 

A raven-headed Jepella happened to walk by them. Aventurine couldn’t help a flinch. 

“Wow, that Sunday really did a number on you, huh?” Topaz raised a brow. 

“That’s not what happened at all,” Aventurine insisted, straightening his coat, “I just…don’t like feathers. It’s a personal preference!” 

He had absolutely nothing to worry about. The deposed Head of the Oak Family was probably skulking around in some alley in the Asdana system, hiding from the authorities like the wanted criminal he now was. How the turn tables. 

Aventurine smirked, preening to himself. 

“Uh huh…” Topaz folded her arms, “Anyway, I’ve gotten you into the zoo. What’s next?” 

Aventurine scanned the crowd. He grinned slyly as he spotted a pair of pig-headed and snake-headed Jepella sitting proudly at a table on a mezzanine level overlooking the dance floor. 

“Let’s go over there,” Aventurine said. 

A warm and friendly smile spread across his face as he closed in on the Jepella, inviting himself to sit down in front of them, “Hello, my friends!” 

The dog-headed bodyguards to the sides of the seated Jepella scrambled for their weapons but Aventurine’s expression didn’t change at all as he steepled his hands and leaned over the table. 

“I’m Aventurine. I’m a Stoneheart from the IPC,” he began, “It’s…a pleasure to make your acquaintance.” 

The snake-headed Jepella waved the bodyguards away frantically, wringing his hands together in an obsequious manner, “A Stoneheart! Oh my! I-I was under the impression we had only invited Stoneheart Topaz…who was s-supposed to be off-planet…” 

“That’s me! You sound a little surprised that I’m attending your masquerade,” Topaz said happily, drawing their gaze, “Aren’t you lucky my plans changed? Now you’ve got two Stonehearts attending your event instead of none.” 

The pig-headed Jepella shot his counterpart a glare before turning to face them with a fake smile. 

“I am Napoleon, chief ambassador of the New People’s Democratic Republic of Jepella,” the piggy drawled, “This is my personal assistant, Snivy. We’re…so honoured…to make your acquaintance, dear Stonehearts.” 

“Ah, so you’re the replacements for the Jepella Brotherhood?” Topaz tilted her head. 

“We’re nothing like the Jepella Brotherhood!” Snivy sniffed, waving a scaly hand, “Unlike those unenlightened savages, we actually give our slaves tea breaks! Once a week, even!” 

“Wow,” said Aventurine and Topaz together. 

Just wow.

Hypothetically…theoretically…if he were to set the Jepella ambassador on fire, would the room end up smelling like bacon?

“Indeed, the IPC can rest assured that we strive to maintain a humane and socially responsible workforce,” Napoleon continued with a wink, “Without reducing profit, of course.” 

Topaz exchanged a look with him. Aventurine shrugged. Well, it wasn't exactly wrong to imagine the IPC prioritized profits above all else...

“Since you’re so interested in profit, let’s play a game of dice,” Aventurine grinned, three dice appearing between his fingers as he spread his hands.

“If I win, I walk away with your precious ‘cultural treasure’,” he said, tilting his head towards the jewelled egg on the stage below. Aventurine reached into his coat. 

The Jepella bodyguards shifted their weapons at him, but Aventurine didn’t react. He merely chuckled as he set a cracked stone down on the table. 

“If you win,” Aventurine smirked, “You get a Cornerstone. What do you say?” 

Napoleon licked his lips, a greedy look in his piggy eyes, “Your Cornerstone appears to be damaged.” 

“It may have a crack or three, but it’s still a Cornerstone,” Aventurine grinned, “Come now, this is a once in a lifetime opportunity. Tell you what, I’ll even throw myself in as a bonus too. You’ll get to parade around an ex-Stoneheart. What do you think about that?”

Topaz covered her face with a hand. 

“Gamblers really do be gambling, huh?” she said.

Aventurine ignored her. She was probably just in awe of his genius. He picked up one of the golden mugs on the table, tossing its contents carelessly to the side. He slammed the mug upside down on the table, three dice rattling within.

“Three rolls of the dice, the one who guesses the most accurate total wins,” Aventurine raised his chin, “I’ll win…and then I’ll take that precious ‘cultural treasure’ off your hands.” 

“That’s ‘if’ you win, boy,” the piggy Jepella snorted. He motioned to one of his bodyguards to roll the dice, “You, do the honours.” 

“Y-Yes Sir,” the bodyguard stepped forward, shaking the mug once. The dice rattled and settled down.

“Eighteen!” Aventurine called immediately. 

“Thirteen,” Napoleon growled.

Topaz leaned forward, observing their game. Numby hopped off her lap, disappearing under the table.

The bodyguard lifted the mug. Three sixes. Aventurine smirked, “Looks like I’m right on the money.” 

“We’ll see,” the Jepella ambassador grunted, “Roll again! Six!”

“Three!” Aventurine gritted out, just a step behind. The mug went up, revealing the dice. One, two, three. A total of six.

“It seems I’m the winner this time,” Napoleon chortled smugly. 

“You cheated!” Aventurine bared his teeth in mock outrage. 

“And you didn’t?” Napoleon snorted back. 

“Weren’t you both cheating?” Topaz tilted her head, looking between them curiously. 

Well yeah, of course. But the piggy or his bodyguard must have somehow cheated against his cheating. How annoying. Still…

…Aventurine gave the pig-headed Jepella a poisonous smile. This was fine. Everything was fine. 

They’d just have to see who was the better gambler in the end and Aventurine already knew who that was.

“Let’s try again!” Aventurine sneered, “All in!” 

The bodyguard shook the mug. The dice rattled around and around. Topaz straightened, staring intently at the table-

-the hairs on the back of his neck rose. Someone was staring at him. 

Aventurine’s head shot up. 

In the middle of the dance hall below, a familiar pair of yellow-blue eyes met his gaze. 

He leapt to his feet with a snarl. 

He took a step forward. 

He slipped on an olive that some inconsiderate asshole had dropped on the ground. 

Startled, Numby charged out from under the table, bumping into a waiter. 

The waiter yelled, tripped, grabbed at a nearby curtain. 

The curtain rings snapped successively with little pinging noises, starting from the back of the hall all the way to the front. 

The hall length curtain rail shrieked and gave way, falling straight onto the display case like a lance. 

The display case shattered. 

The jewelled egg rolled out. 

A man with long, dark hair and burning red eyes leapt out of the crowd, doing a dramatic (and possibly unnecessary) flip as he caught the egg and then leapt again, diving gracefully out of a nearby window like he was in a movie. 

That winged bastard shot him a shit-eating grin. 

That feathered psycho wiggled his fingers one by one.  

“SUNDAY!” 

Aventurine raged as he struggled to his feet. By the time he got to his feet the ex-Family Head had already disappeared into the crowd.

A crate of merchandise was being shipped out of Penacony. It was one of many crates of merchandise. It moved along a conveyor belt, slowly inching towards a curtain of lasers.  

THEY snickered.

The laser steriliser shorted out for just one, insignificant second. The crate moved along, carrying a tiny, surviving insect egg on its underside.

Chapter Text

The air was filled with the slow, melodic strains of a violin. There was a faint scratching noise as the gramophone skipped over a groove in the record before continuing to play the next soothing track. 

“Hmm…” Sunday hummed. 

The shattered fragments of a jewelled egg sat on the coffee table of a tiny apartment. Sunday pushed an index through the debris, drawing a line through the pathetic pile of junk. 

Nothing. There was nothing but shards of smashed jewellery.

“It’s empty,” Blade observed from the nearby armchair. 

“Oh, so there’s no Stellaron inside?” Silver Wolf was sitting on the couch, her fingers dancing across her controller, “Hm. That’s a shame.” 

Sunday turned slowly to stare at her, “Stellaron…?” 

“Yeah, my script said the Jepella Brotherhood wannabes were trying to smuggle a Stellaron into Pier Point,” Silver Wolf scowled at the screen before her as a big ‘KO’ popped up, “They probably thought they were being so clever smuggling it past security inside a ‘cultural treasure’.”

This was new information to him. Information he probably would have cared to know about before the ball. 

But that wasn’t important now. What was important now, was… 

“There’s a Stellaron on Pier Point,” Sunday announced his conclusion. He looked around the apartment expectantly. 

Blade grunted. Kafka scrolled through her phone, continuing to scan the article she was reading. 

“There’s a Stellaron. On Pier Point.” 

Did they not hear him the first time? It felt like the statement had to be repeated. Sunday thought for a moment and continued. 

“A Stellaron left in the open could trigger a Stellaron disaster,” Sunday ventured, “Many lives could be at stake if a Stellaron fell into the wrong hands.”

Kafka gave him a pointed look. Sunday had the grace to cough and look away.

So he hadn’t made the best decisions with Penacony’s Stellaron but still, Aventurine had clearly been at the ball attempting to acquire it. Who knew what a crazed gambler would do with a Stellaron anyway? 

Kafka paused. She glanced up from her phone at last, “What does the script say?” 

Sunday pulled the script from his coat and let it fall onto the table, flipping it to the next page for all to see. 

The Stellaron Hunters all paused what they were doing to collectively peer down at his script. 

“It says ‘Do nothing’, huh?” Silver Wolf deadpanned. She shrugged and returned to her game. Blade leaned back and pulled out his sword to examine it. Kafka snuggled further into her armchair, crossing her legs.

Sunday stared at them. 

“I shall seek out the Stellaron,” he announced. 

“Uh huh,” said Silver Wolf. 

“I shall do what needs to be done,” he added, rising to his feet. 

“Hm,” Blade gave a grunt. 

Sunday clenched his fist, “I shall become the bulwark against destruction and save the people of Pier Point.” 

Kafka peered over her phone, raising a brow, “The script says ‘Do nothing’.” 

Sunday put his hand over his heart and spoke with an earnest expression on his face, “But it’s not appropriate to do nothing in the face of destruction.”

Blade continued examining his sword. Silver Wolf continued playing her game. 

“Alright then. Have fun,” Kafka said absently, “Don’t. Get into trouble.” 

At the front door, Sunday smiled beautifully back at them. Behind him, the sunlight fell through his halo, outlining him with a radiant, unreal glow. 

“I shall try to stay out of trouble…” 

He closed the door behind him. 

“…badly,” Sunday finished.

If people’s lives were in danger, if destruction was at the gates, then it was necessary to do everything he could to save them. 

All fired up, Sunday strode towards the streets of Pier Point, ready to save some people. 

The Stellaron Hunters watched Sunday go. The door of the apartment clicked shut behind him, leaving behind a peaceful silence. 

“He’s so getting into trouble,” Silver Wolf jabbed at her controller, “Wanna bet on it?” 

“Sucker bet,” Blade growled. 

Kafka reached for her script. 

In the lounge of Topaz’s starship, Aventurine paced back and forth restlessly. 

Topaz was doing something on her phone, probably looking at sales figures for that Stellaron Hunter merchandise she was buying and selling or whatever. 

But that wasn’t important now. What was important now, was… 

“I saw Sunday at the masquerade,” Aventurine hissed. 

Topaz nodded at her phone, “Uh huh.” 

“Sunday. At the masquerade,” Aventurine continued, looking at her expectantly.

“Huh,” Topaz said. 

Assured that he’d gotten her attention, Aventurine cupped his chin as he paced, “What’s his game? What is he scheming this time?“

There was no way that Sunday had just decided to appear there without some cause in mind. There was just no way that control freak could handle some unplanned, spontaneous encounter. 

Aventurine’s eyes narrowed. He lowered his head in thought as he continued to pace, “Perhaps…” 

Sunday’s conspiracy on Penacony failed and nobody seemed to know what happened to him. Sunday suddenly popped up again on Pier Point when the Stellaron Hunters were doing a heist. Sunday waved at him, the sheer frigging audacity… 

“Perhaps…” Aventurine raised his head, eyes gleaming. 

The reason why Sunday was on Pier Point. The reason Sunday had been casing the Jepella… 

Aventurine announced his conclusion, “Perhaps there’s a Stellaron up for grabs on Pier Point!” 

Topaz squinted, “Hm?”

“I’ll snag both Sunday and the Stellaron!” Aventurine announced. 

Topaz shrugged, “Hm.”

“I’ll plot around his plotting!” Aventurine added. 

“Uh huh,” Topaz offered. 

Aventurine clenched his fist, “I’ll show that winged bastard once and for all!” 

Topaz finally looked up at him curiously, “If you think Sunday is trying to draw you into his plot. Do you think that maybe, just maybe…” she paused delicately, “...you should not chase after him?” 

Aventurine stared at her, “But I can’t just sit here and do nothing. I’ve been waiting for an opportunity all along.” 

He wasn’t going to just let Sunday get away with a Stellaron. Who knew what that crazed ex-Family Head would do with a Stellaron anyway?

“If I can draw out Sunday and obtain the Stellaron for the IPC…” Aventurine narrowed his eyes speculatively. He turned and began to walk out of the lounge, deep in thought. 

“Good luck with that,” Topaz called after him, “Don’t get into trouble.” 

If fate was against him, if good luck turned bad, then he’d fight against it all with every fibre of his being. 

“I don’t need good luck,” Aventurine declared, “I’ll make my own luck!”

All fired up, Aventurine strode towards the streets of Pier Point, ready to make a killing. 

Topaz watched Aventurine go. The doors of the lounge clicked behind him, leaving behind a peaceful silence. 

Topaz looked at Numby. Numby looked at Topaz. 

Numby made a sound like a deflating balloon. 

Topaz unlocked her phone, typing in instructions to her underlings. 

“You’re right. Maybe I should make a few arrangements, just in case…”

Lying down on her bed, Robin hugged a Stellaron Hunter Dove plushie to herself. She rolled to the left and right and left, drawing back for a moment to admire the plushie. 

So smol, so round, so fluffy… 

Robin sighed as she snuck a furtive glance around her bedroom. It was slowly being encroached on by boxes. Crowding around the corner of her room, covering her desk and slowly inching towards her bed. If she wasn’t careful, she’d be sleeping on boxes soon. 

The boxes were filled with prototype samples- plushies and t-shirts and pillow covers that she’d been reviewing before arranging for mass production. 

She wasn’t worried about being discovered. No, she’d already moved past that point. She’d long since come to the realisation that it wasn’t enough to just know that Sunday was alright…

Robin sighed again. She looked around the room again. 

She wasn’t sure why, but she was starting to feel that there might be a slight problem developing here.  

“Maybe I should talk to someone about this,” Robin chewed her lip. 

But who could she talk to? For obvious reasons, anyone in the Family was right out. The Trailblazer… 

Robin’s brow twitched. Yeah, no. That unhinged yet strangely helpful person would never let her hear the end of it. Who else…?

“Ah!” 

Yes, there was one person she could turn to.

Someone who was reasonable and kind. Someone she could confide in and trust for an objective opinion. Someone who had inside information as a fellow Stellaron Hunter. 

Robin smiled as she quickly typed a message. 

‘Pardon me, Miss Firefly, but would you have a moment to chat?’ 

“Agh, please forgive me!”

“NO.” SAM boomed. 

“Nottheface-” STOMP. 

Inside the mecha, Firefly gave a sigh as the noise in the warehouse died doon. Peace at last. Another band of evil-doers wiped off the face of the cosmos. 

It was so relaxing to go on vacation after completing one of Elio’s scripts. Maybe after she was done here, she should visit the local night market and buy back some snacks and souvenirs for everyone-

-oh wait, there was movement in the corner of the warehouse. One of the crooks was trying to make a spirited crawl for the doors of the warehouse. 

Firefly shook her head. SAM’s arm went up, palm out, firing off a burst of flames, carbonizing the straggler in an instant. 

“That’s better,” Firefly nodded to herself. It wasn’t nice to make anyone suffer unnecessarily. 

After all, the doors were locked and there was no escape to be had in that direction. The only ‘exit’ in this warehouse at the moment was the hole in the ceiling which SAM had made when she jumpkicked through. 

DING, went SAM. Firefly paused in her contemplations, reading the quick line of text that scrolled across the faceplate of the mecha. 

“Miss Robin?” Firefly was concerned, “Is she in trouble?” 

The timing wasn’t the best. She needed to leave the warehouse before the cops could arrive, but then again it was better to know if something was going on in Penacony as soon as possible. 

Meh. Why not do both? She had SAM after all. Firefly opened a call line with this thought. 

“Hello, Firefly speaking,” she said as she jumped up and out of the warehouse, “Are you in any danger, Miss Robin?” 

“No! No, everything’s fine,” Robin quickly replied, “Well…there is one small matter I’d like to seek your advice on. Oh! Only if you don’t mind…” 

Firefly was touched. They’d only met very briefly before, but still, to think that out of everyone, Robin chose to seek her out. 

“I’m a little busy. I don’t know if I’ll be of much help, but I’ll do my best!” Firefly said sincerely, “Please, speak freely.” 

In the distance, sirens were sounding. SAM pulled up onto the roof of the warehouse, eyeing the helicopters closing in from the distance. 

“The thing is,” Robin began guiltily, “He’s gotten into trouble with…with many people.” 

“What kind of trouble?” Firefly was only half-listening, seeing pinpricks of light flying through the sky, drawing closer, “I can help you deal with those people.” 

Well, SAM could deal with it, probably. The mecha was built to put out a lot of firepower. 

“Thank you for the offer, but I wouldn’t want to trouble you, Miss Firefly,” Robin replied politely, “I already have a plan underway. I’ve created a comprehensive marketing plan to popularise him and show my support!”

“That sounds…great?” SAM leapt into the air, dodging half a dozen missiles and kicking one back at the helicopter that had fired it, “That’s certainly…a thing to do.” 

Not exactly what she would have chosen to do, to be honest. 

Firefly paused for a moment to catch her breath. 

Hang on, she must have missed it at some point in their conversation but who exactly were they talking about…?

“It’s only what my brother would have done,” Robin replied modestly.

Firefly frowned at the mention of Sunday. 

“I’m not sure he’s the best example to follow.” 

“Well, my brother might have made some terrible decisions, but he really is an expert in marketing,” Robin said sincerely. She sighed, “I think I’ve managed to get the ‘popularizing’ part right since the sales figures are doing really well, but I’m not sure if it’s really sufficient to cover the ‘showing support’ part.” 

SAM was busy punching a helicopter. She caught two words, “Showing support?” 

She’d only been half-listening. Maybe she missed a bit of context here and there, but…Firefly hesitated as she came to a conclusion. 

“Miss Robin…” Firefly asked, “...are you a fan of this guy?” 

A guilty silence followed her question. 

“W-well, I’ve always felt that he’s been there for me and supported me and, and, er…I know you might not agree after, well, everything that’s happened. But I find some of the things he does rather cute…”

Firefly felt more certain of her conclusion. 

“If you’re someone’s fan, then perhaps you can consider doing some of the nicer things your fans do for you,” Firefly said reasonably. 

Maybe it was a good thing for Robin to be someone’s fan. As a superstar, she probably only encountered fans, which could be a mixed bag. Maybe Robin could now enjoy the fun part of being a fan herself. 

“What my fans do…” Robin trailed off thoughtfully. 

In the meantime, Firefly finally managed to shake off her pursuers as SAM dove into a storm drain underneath a bridge. SAM’s form melted away to reveal Firefly. Firefly quickly switched the call to her phone. 

Finally, she had the space and the presence of mind to pay some proper attention to the conversation. 

Firefly raised her phone to her ear. She opened her mouth, ready to ask questions, “By the way, this person we’ve been discussing, who exactly-?”

“That’s it! I’ve got it!” Robin announced excitedly.

Firefly juggled her phone, nearly dropping it. She recovered quickly, holding the phone to her ear again, “W-What have you got?” 

“A fan club! That’s what my brother’s been missing! A Stellaron Hunter Dove fan club! That’s how I can organize a proper show of support! Thank you so much, Miss Firefly! I’ll get started on it right away!” 

The call disconnected. The phone beeped. Once. Twice. Thrice. 

Firefly stared blankly into space. 

Firefly transformed into SAM.

Firefly clenched her fist.

Fragments of metal and plastic slipped through SAM’s metal gauntlets, tinkling onto the ground as the phone was crushed and grinded into very tiny pieces. 

“WHAT.” boomed SAM. 

The shipping crate arrived in a nondescript warehouse at Pier Point. One of the sleep-deprived packers at the warehouse misread the delivery address and sorted the crate onto the wrong conveyer. The conveyer deposited the package into an automated delivery van which trundled out of the warehouse. 

THEY began preparing an Imaginary bucket of popcorn. 

At the bottom of the crate, an insect egg hatched, a tiny worm crawling into the base of the crate. 

Chapter Text

In the depths of Pier Point, Aventurine stepped into a church. Although there was no signage outside, there were rows of pews on the inside, and a confessional booth at a corner of the hall. 

Aventurine took a look at his phone. He looked at the church. No one was around. 

“So this is where the coordinates lead, huh?” 

Aventurine stepped into the confessional booth. 

Pier Point was huge. It was thousands of millions of square kilometres of surface area, all densely packed with streets and tunnels and people. Looking for one person amidst all these was like looking for a needle in a haystack. 

Aventurine had been prepared to go all in- to stir up the forces of the IPC and risk Diamond’s attention, but then his phone buzzed with a message just as he took his first step on the planet’s surface. 

No words. Just a set of coordinates and the logo of Silver Wolf. 

A wordless challenge. An obvious trap. 

Well, if the Stellaron Hunters, if Sunday dared to call his bluff, then he certainly wouldn’t find him wanting.

Aventurine sat down. It was dark and narrow inside, barely any room to spread his arms. The curtain over the entrance blocked the light. The barred screen between the booths reminded him of a cage. 

“This is ridiculous,” he muttered under his breath, “What, does that feathered bastard expect me to confess my sins?” 

Just as he was about to push the curtain open to leave, he heard someone sitting down on the other side. He froze.

A voice called through the window, muffled by the barred screen. 

“Father,” someone said from the other side of the booth, "I’d like to make a confession."

Was this part of Sunday’s trap? A scheme to somehow get one over him? Or maybe this was all a misunderstanding and the man on the other side was just a normal person who was unlucky enough to mistake him for a priest?

Well, if he had to take a bet…

With a sly smile, Aventurine sat back down. He was always ready to try his luck. 

“Go on then…tell me what you did,” he grinned. 

The booth went silent. Aventurine waited with anticipation. 

And waited. 

And then he waited some more. 

“Hello? Are you still there?” he asked impatiently. Talk about a mood killer.  

“Please excuse me,” the stranger replied politely, “It’s my first time in this position. It’s…rather relaxing sitting on this side, isn’t it? It’s no wonder so many people voluntarily do this.” 

What a weirdo. Aventurine wasn’t too clear on the specifics of confessions. He wasn’t particularly big on the idea of placing his faith on an Aeon himself, but who the hell came to a confessional booth to sit down and say nothing? 

“Aren’t you supposed to be asking for forgiveness for your sins here or something?” Aventurine raised a brow, “...don’t tell me you came in here because you lost a bet.” 

The other man let out a breath, “I don’t know what it’s like to lose a bet. I’ve never bet on anything in my life.” 

Aventurine perked up, curious despite himself, “What, never? Not even once?” 

“To bet is to risk folly, as my master used to say,” the stranger said slowly, “I could not afford to risk losing my value.” 

Master, huh? Aventurine wrinkled his nose. 

“‘Can’t afford to lose’? Everyone can afford to lose,” Aventurine tapped the panel between them, “Bet a hundred to make a thousand, bet everything to gain everything in return- that’s practically human nature. Look…haven’t you ever wanted anything really badly before?” 

“…I once wished to make the dreams of everyone around me come true,” the other man said.

Wow. So naively and earnestly said too. 

“Why?” Aventurine demanded, “Haven’t you ever wanted anything for yourself? Like wanting to make loads and loads of money, or buying your freedom, or…finding your family, anything like that?” 

“Indulging in worldly desires would only debase one in my position. So…I tried not to want anything for myself at all.” 

For some reason, it really annoyed him to hear how calmly this stranger said all these things. 

“This master of yours…is full of shit,” Aventurine finally said what was on his mind, “Thinking that you’re less of a person just because you want things for yourself is stupid. Never taking risks to get what you want is stupid. You, my friend, need to stop sitting in a giant pile of stupid .” 

There was a long sigh from the other side of the booth. 

Aventurine basked in the knowledge that he was right. 

“Confession really is quite cathartic, isn’t it, Mr Aventurine?” 

Wait a minute. 

“I didn’t tell you my name,” Aventurine hissed. 

Hold on a second. 

“Yes I know,” a familiar little chuckle rang through the screen, “I wasn’t sure if it was you at first, but thank you for the confirmation.”

It was him, that winged psycho…!

Aventurine whipped open the curtain and charged outside. His Cornerstone was in hand, he was ready to take action- 

Sunday continued to sit in the uncurtained, penitent side of the booth. His brows furrowed in thought as he stared down at a folder of papers in his hands. 

Aventurine waited with anticipation. 

And waited. 

And then he waited some more. 

“What are you doing?” Aventurine asked impatiently. How inconsiderate could you be to be busy reading when your nemesis was standing in front of you?

“Have a look at this, Mr Aventurine.” 

Aventurine stared at the folder he was being offered like it was a live snake. Annoyed at the faint smile on Sunday’s face, he grabbed the folder and awkwardly flipped it open with one hand while holding his Cornerstone with the other. 

The pages were mostly blank with only a few lines written on them with directions like ‘cross the road’, ‘turn left’, ‘you went right instead, didn’t you? go up’, and so on. 

“…what is this?” Aventurine finally asked, puzzled. 

“It’s a script,” Sunday told him, “The Destiny Slave’s script to be precise. It seems I’ve achieved its intent while trying to fail to follow instructions.” 

Sunday shrugged, almost helplessly. 

“I’m much less dissatisfied than I thought I would be, however,” Sunday continued, “After all, what are the odds that we would ever be able to speak so frankly without intervention?” 

This feathered bastard… 

“Were you even confessing for real, just now?” Aventurine demanded. 

The thought that Sunday had been playing him was irritating. The thought that Sunday had not been playing him, was even more irritating. 

“Of course I was telling the truth,” Sunday rested a hand over his heart, speaking piously, “The Odes of Harmony state that one should not bear false witness against one’s neighbour.”

“…do you even believe in the Harmony?” Aventurine eyed him doubtfully. 

“Well, I’m not sure if THEY still believe in me,” replied Sunday thoughtfully. He cupped his chin, relaxing in his seat, “I haven’t tried tuning once since the Charmony Festival. It’s quite possible that THEY have lifted THEIR blessing from me. I may not be capable of doing so anymore.” 

Aventurine continued to stare at him, “I’m going to have you arrested. I’m going to take your Stellaron for the IPC.” 

Sunday still didn’t try to run away. He leaned forward in his seat, resting his hands over his lap.  

“I don’t think that’s going to happen,” Sunday sighed, “Go on, Mr Aventurine, take a look at the next page of the script.” 

Curious, Aventurine turned the page. 

‘Congratulations, Aventurine,’ the script read, ‘Your wishes are about to come true. Take one little step to the right. /ᐠ. .ᐟ\ฅ’

Aventurine stepped to the left instead. There was a crunching noise in the rafters above. A wooden beam fell from the ceiling, collapsing onto the side of the confessional booth. 

Aventurine threw the folder to the ground, scattering papers everywhere. 

The side wall of the confessional booth gave way. 

The side wall fell over, knocking down a candelabra. 

The candelabra fell forward, dropping its candle. 

The candle rolled towards him and then finally bumped gently against his foot. 

Aventurine took a step back, “Ha, you missed-!” 

He slipped on a fallen piece of paper. 

The Cornerstone in his hand flew up into the air. 

The doors of the church opened. 

A certain snake-headed Jepella stepped inside, just in time to catch the Cornerstone. 

Aventurine staggered to his feet just as several dozen Jepella flooded into the church, all locked and loaded. 

Sunday stepped out of the booth, looking completely serene. 

“This is such bullshit!” Aventurine raged. 

Sunday nodded in commiseration, “Yes it is, isn’t it?”

In one of the many warehouses in Pier Point, Sunday sat in a storage room. This was not normally a place he would have hung out. Least of all with the very last person he expected to meet. 

“Your halo keeps poking the back of my head,” Aventurine grumbled. 

“I’m afraid I can’t do anything about that,” Sunday said. He tested the bonds around his arms, he looked around the storage room they were being kept in, at the bare shelves and the rather suspicious old bloodstains on the floor. He continued, “I appear to be quite tied up at the moment.” 

“Why are you so calm right now?” Aventurine asked incredulously, “Wait, don’t tell me…this must be part of some scheme of yours’. You planned to get captured by the Jepella so that you could locate the Stellaron. The Stellaron Hunters are going to be here any second now.” 

They waited for a beat. No Stellaron Hunters appeared. Sunday smiled.

“It’s quite liberating to not have to inform anyone of where I’m going,” Sunday paused and added, “I don’t suppose the IPC is going to arrive at any moment now?” 

Aventurine coughed, sounding almost embarrassed, “I don’t…typically arrange for backup because I, ahem, I have a Cornerstone.” 

“Your Cornerstone which you brought to face me,” Sunday said. 

“Yes,” Aventurine hissed. 

“Your Cornerstone which is with that snake-headed Jepella,” Sunday said.

“Yes,” Aventurine gritted out. 

“Your Cornerstone which you dropped after slipping on some paper,” Sunday continued. 

“Yes!” Aventurine growled, “You don’t need to rub it in. That script of yours got you caught too, didn’t it?” 

“Ah, but you see, Mr Aventurine,” Sunday said brightly, “I chose to follow my script this time.” 

Aventurine shifted in his bonds, “…are you smiling ?” 

Sunday paused and he realised that he was. He shook his head, continuing. 

“I’ve committed many crimes since I’ve left Penacony. I’ve vandalized, I’ve littered, I’ve participated in a heist and I've associated with wanted criminals. These are all things I would never have done before as the Head of the Oak Family.” 

A pause.

“...why are you telling me all this?” Aventurine asked.

“Because the Charmony Festival should have been the end of me,” Sunday said without any inflection, “I should have either lived in exile, watching over everyone’s dreams, or, as it happened, I should have been fated to death or imprisonment after failing in every possible way.” 

Seated on a chair, tied to Aventurine of all people, Sunday sighed. 

“For the longest time afterwards, I felt like I was in a dream,” Sunday said, “It didn’t feel real not having all those lofty expectations and dreams hanging over my shoulders. It wasn’t until I found myself trying to save the people of Pier Point, fighting and failing to defy Elio’s script, that I finally realised that I was awake.” 

“...I can’t understand you,” Aventurine said. He sounded frustrated, “You seem quite happy when you say all this.” 

“Perhaps I’m simply starting to become quite comfortable living in this sinful, imperfect world,” Sunday laughed. 

“Huh,” Aventurine sounded thoughtful, “So you’re actually kind of-” 

Before Aventurine could finish speaking, the doors of the storage room slammed open. 

“Well, well, well, we meet again, Mr Aventurine,” Snivy leered as he entered with two bodyguards, “And Stellaron Hunter Dove as well. So you two were working together to steal our Stellaron after all!” 

“Yes.” “No!” Aventurine tried to turn to glare at Sunday. 

Snivy sniffed, “Regardless, you’re both at our mercy now! And I regret to inform you that we’re fresh out of mercy.” 

“My colleagues are aware of my suspicions towards you people,” Aventurine sneered, “If anything happens to me, they’re going to search your holdings from top to bottom.” 

“Ha, that’s what you think!” Snivy snapped his fingers. One of the bodyguards came over with a new jewelled egg, snapping open a hinge to reveal a glowing, gem-like shape within, “Behold, we have yet another ‘cultural treasure’ with which to smuggle the Stellaron!” 

“Did you bring that out just to gloat?” Aventurine snorted.

“How petty,” Sunday added. 

“I don’t want to hear that from you of all people,” Aventurine shifted in his seat, nudging back with his elbow, “Remember when you took out those Cornerstones to wave in my face?” 

Sunday paused thoughtfully, “...would you like an apology, Mr Aventurine?” 

Aventurine froze, “...are you serious right now?” he asked, suspicious.  

“Would it kill the two of you to pay attention when your very lives are at stake?” Snivy fumed. He turned to the bodyguard holding the Stellaron, “Keep the Stellaron away and make sure no one touches it!” 

“There’s a thought,” Aventurine nudged Sunday again, “Why don’t you take this opportunity to try mindblasting them now?”

“If it turns out that the Harmony has indeed turned away from me, I might fail to ‘mindblast’ them as you say,” Sunday replied dryly, “If that happens, then enlighten me, Mr Aventurine, what do we do next?” 

“You!” If a snake could turn red, Snivy would have. The Jepella turned angrily to his bodyguard, “Why isn’t the egg closed yet?”

“Er…I think the hinge might be broken, boss,” the bodyguard replied sheepishly. Snivy looked around the store room, spotting a nondescript crate. 

“Put the Stellaron in there, then, and bring it along with us!” Snivy pointed at the crate. 

“Uh, sure thing, boss!” the bodyguard quickly complied. 

Snivy glared, wringing his fist at them, “You’ll rue the day you crossed the Jepella!” 

The Stellaron went into the crate. 

The Jepella exited the store room. 

Sunday and Aventurine both looked up as THEY started up a gut-busting laugh which echoed through the store room. 

They heard a shout from outside.

They heard a lot of things breaking. 

“Did you know,” Sunday stared thoughtfully at the ceiling, “Based on the Family’s research, as long as a creature is capable of having a dream, a desire, it can use a Stellaron.” 

Aventurine tested their bonds again. He flicked his hand, a metal chip appearing in between his fingers. 

“Good to know, but why are you telling me this?” Aventurine asked. He sawed the chip against the rope on his wrist. 

“Shipping crates that have been improperly sterilised sometimes carry invasive species,” Sunday continued, “Noblesse worms, for example. These creatures don’t have fully developed brains, but with the aid of an Aeon…” he trailed off. 

They both paused. There was a distinct, alarmingly loud chewing noise coming from outside now. Aventurine got one hand free and quickly started working on getting rid of the rest of the ropes tying them down. 

Aventurine bounded to the door and flung it open. 

A humongous, car-sized worm looked down at them through its many, beady eyes. It’s circular mouth was open, filled with countless, jagged teeth. It was growing larger with each passing second. The Jepella that were scattered all around it also paused to stare at the two of them. 

For a moment, nobody moved. 

Then Sunday grabbed the chip from Aventurine’s hand and threw it hard at a wall. 

The chip bounced off the wall. 

The chip hit an overhead lamp.

The lamp crashed down onto the worm, briefly disorienting it. 

Aventurine dived at Snivy, knocking the Jepella down and quickly searching inside the Jepella’s coat. He let out a triumphant laugh as he retrieved his Cornerstone, whirling around to face the worm. 

It had grown larger. It was almost the size of the warehouse now. It screeched, smashing its way through several storage racks.

Aventurine gritted his teeth, turning to Sunday, “Does that script of yours have anything else?” 

“Throwing your chip was the last action on my script,” Sunday shrugged beside him, “I’m afraid I don’t know what to do next.” 

“Well just stop grinning and do something!” Aventurine said, as he activated his Cornerstone. Giant chips were materializing in the air as Aventurine attacked. The Jepella were fleeing in all directions. The chaos was quickly spreading as people screamed and fled from the area. 

Sunday stood there, cupping his chin in thought. 

Do something? He didn’t know what to do. 

In this moment, there were no expectations, no obligations…there wasn’t even a script. 

In this moment, he was free. 

And since he was free, Sunday chose to simply do as he pleased. 

Sunday sang. 

The first few notes left his throat slowly, thoughtfully, hopefully. 

As he sang, he felt THEIR three-faced gaze, lingering for the briefest second from somewhere undefinably high above. 

The world turned fuzzy and colourful around the worm as it slowly collapsed to the ground, writhing and choking until it spit out a glowing Stellaron. One of the walls of the warehouse collapsed slowly, crushing the slowly shrinking worm. 

Aventurine landed beside him. He deactivated his Cornerstone, turning to Sunday with a grin. 

“You know, you’re actually not so-” 

At this moment, SAM drop-kicked through the roof. 

Chapter Text

“Good morning, Pier Point!” the radio cheerfully announced.

“This is the Interastral Peace Broadcast and I’m your host, Tracy Ixnay, coming to you live with breaking news! Early this morning, a giant worm appeared at a warehouse in Sector I-15. In addition, Stoneheart Aventurine was spotted nearby chasing down members of the notorious Stellaron Hunters…!” 

As the news report continued, soft, jazzy music played in the apartment. Kafka aligned the glasses on the countertop of the open kitchen. A few bottles of champagne sat by her elbow, standing in a small bucket of ice. 

“Preparing to celebrate, Kafka?” Blade asked, seated across from her.

A light smile drifted across Kafka’s face, “It’s a special occasion, isn’t it?” 

“Most people wouldn’t be celebrating an additional zero in their bounty,” Blade said.

“I have a feeling Birdie will appreciate it,” Kafka said, reaching out to retrieve a bottle. 

“If he makes it back in one piece,” Blade continued, observing as she poured out a glass. 

“Silver Wolf is there with him,” Kafka shrugged.

“So is Firefly,” Blade grunted. 

“So she is…” Kafka pushed the flute of champagne over to Blade and poured out a second glass. The golden liquid bubbled and fizzed, water condensing outside. Kafka traced a line on the rim of the glass. 

Almost teasingly she asked, “...are you worried about them, Bladie?” 

Blade snorted, “I don’t care for anything but my destined death.” 

Kafka chuckled lazily, propping her head against an elbow.

“Is that so?” she raised her glass, gazing across the quiet apartment. Neither of them made to leave the apartment, simply sitting where they were. 

“You never know when all this might come to an end,” Kafka murmured, “That destined death you’re looking for…it could come in your script tomorrow.” 

“But not today,” Blade muttered. 

“Not today,” Kafka said, “So before that day comes…let’s celebrate,” she said, raising her glass in a toast. Blade raised his glass as well. 

Their glasses met with an audible clink. 

Seated on the couch of their new apartment, Silver Wolf’s brow twitched. She paused the game she was playing and shot a look at Kafka, who was heading for the door. 

“We’re only going to be gone for half an hour,” Kafka said, “Just doing some clean up so the IPC doesn’t come knocking.” 

Silver Wolf turned to look pleadingly at Blade. 

Blade pretended not to notice, the traitor. He moved quickly, heading out ahead of Kafka without a word.

Kafka turned to Firefly and then to Sunday, looking him in the eye, “Don’t. Blow up the apartment.” 

The door closed behind her. Silver Wolf watched her last hope disappear. 

On either side of her, Sunday and Firefly sat on the couch. 

Firefly looked at Sunday. Sunday looked at Firefly. 

In between them, Silver Wolf gritted her teeth, trying to focus on her game. 

There was a time limited event she’d forgotten to clear but it was increasingly difficult to concentrate when it felt like the air above her head was about to catch fire.

Finally, she couldn’t take it any longer. 

“If you’re going to fight,” Silver Wolf hissed, “Take it outside the apartment. Don’t kill my gaming setup again.” 

“Fight?” Sunday blinked innocently, “Whatever do you mean, Miss Silver Wolf?” 

Firefly glared at Sunday. Her hands were balled into fists, “I-I’m not going to destroy the apartment, but…what is this person doing here?” she demanded. 

“I’d quite like to know that myself,” Sunday said pleasantly, “Nevertheless, it’s quite fortunate to have the opportunity to meet you again in a less…contentious setting, Miss Firefly.” 

Firefly stared at him suspiciously, “I won’t let you get away with your plans.” 

“Even if I simply plan to do nothing for the rest of today?” Sunday smiled at her.

Firefly turned to Silver Wolf. Silver Wolf sighed and paused her game again to nod at Firefly. 

“It’s probably true,” Silver Wolf grumbled, “He can’t possibly get into more trouble than he already has today."

Firefly didn’t seem to believe her. She continued glaring at Sunday, watching him carefully as if she was thinking about transforming into SAM at any second. 

Sunday cleared his throat, “I believe we may have previously gotten off on the wrong foot…” 

“...you think?” Silver Wolf muttered dryly.

“...but I would like to apologise for my words and behaviour towards you from before, Miss Firefly,” Sunday said sincerely, putting a hand over his heart, “I am currently reconsidering my stance towards…many things…and, as things are now, I don’t believe we’ll come into conflict again in the future.” 

Firefly bit her lip, although she’d already relaxed a little already, “...is that really true?” 

“Although it may be somewhat presumptuous of me,” Sunday declared, “I truly desire the opportunity to make amends and prove to you my sincerity.” 

Firefly hesitated, but finally sighed, “W-well, I suppose it would only be fair to give you a chance…” 

Silver Wolf relaxed, leaning forward. Finally things were settled and she could focus on her game.

“In fact, why don’t we take this opportunity to become acquainted?” she heard Sunday say over her head, “Are you familiar with the process of baking cookies, Miss Firefly?” 

“Um, not really,” Firefly answered tentatively, “B-but I’m willing to try…” 

Sunday and Firefly rose, heading for the kitchen. 

For one blissful moment, Silver Wolf was finally able to concentrate on her game. She could hear Sunday and Firefly talking and moving around in the kitchen, but she was fully focused on the screen in front of her. She was going to do it. She was going to manage to clear this time limited event before it ended and get all the rewards. All would be well.

Silver Wolf wrinkled her nose. 

There was a weird, slightly burnt smell in the air... 

Then her eyes went wide, “Wait a minute, Sunday’s in the kitchen-” 

“Good afternoon, Pier Point! This is the Interastral Peace Broadcast and I’m your host, Tracy Ixnay, coming to you live with a second piece of breaking news today!” the radio announced cheerfully, " A kitchen in an apartment complex in Sector M-7 has exploded in an act of terrorism, releasing a wave of unknown lifeforms onto Pier Point…” 

Within the lounge of her starship, Topaz sat comfortably on a couch. Aventurine sat beside her, frowning at the news broadcast playing on the screen before them. 

“You really are the biggest winner again, huh?” Topaz drawled, “You’ve got the Stellaron, you’re a hero who saved Pier Point, and…you even have a chance of not getting your head caved in by Diamond.” 

She leaned forward in her seat, “So why the frown?”

“That featherbrain managed to escape,” Aventurine hissed, “I was so close to capturing Sunday but he double-crossed me at the last moment-!”

“Are you sure that’s how that happened?” Topaz raised a brow, “I heard that the two of you were seen fighting against an Emanator of the Elation. Working together even, imagine that.” 

“It was just a temporary alliance of convenience,” Aventurine waved a hand dismissively. He clenched his fist as he continued, “I don’t mind being used, but he’s not going to get the better of me again with his Stellaron Hunter friends. I’ve even made sure to apply for his bounty to be increased!” 

“Huh,” Topaz pulled out her phone, checking Sunday’s bounty information, “You say that...but when bounties increase past a certain point, it in fact decreases the amount of people going after a potentially dangerous target.”

Aventurine wasn’t listening, “I’ll hunt him down personally! I'll make sure to settle our score…!”

Topaz shook her head. She paused to look at her phone and smiled, seeing the sales figures of her latest merchandise shipments.

“Let’s both make some more money on the way…”

Robin balanced on her toes, reaching up to adjust the new picture frame on her wall. It stood in pride of place, amidst photos from her first break out concert, from the first studio recording session she attended, the first birthday she celebrated with Sunday in Penacony when they were still kids… 

The picture frame contained a wanted sign. It had a front-facing picture of Sunday, followed by a large string of numbers below. 

It was a small detail, barely noticeable, but the Sunday on the wanted poster was wearing a pin on his lapel. 

A novelty Stellaron Hunter Dove pin. 

Robin took a step back. For a long moment, she simply stared at the wall, looking over all the photos. From the times when they were children, from the times that came after when they were adults...

She smiled, staring up at the wanted poster. 

“Brother, it’s your turn now,” she murmured, “May all birds fly free one day.”