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Chapter Text

Torchbearer walked through the vast emptiness of Trench. Clancy had been taken away to Dema, yet again. Torchbearer had been getting tired of this. Of course, he had to be the one to bring him back.

As he led his fellow banditos through the large continent, he wondered how many more times he'd have to do this. He hoped it would be the last. 

He had escaped from Dema quite a while ago, and he had been free. The bishops couldn't control him anymore, but still he felt trapped. Trapped in being the leader of the banditos, trapped in having to bring Clancy back, every. damn. time. He wanted to escape. Well he had already, but wanted to know what was beyond Trench, Voldsøy, and the Paladin Strait.

Clancy had been dragged back to Dema by Keons. All the other Bishops looked at him angrily, except Keons. He looked quite disappointed, and possibly sad. Apparently they had found out about his rebellious music, as citizens couldn't keep a secret.

"Clancy, my child, we see you haven't been exactly aligning with the Sacred Municipality of Dema's worldview. It seems that you have been, shall we say, 'coercing' citizens to believe your ideas through music", Nico explained. Clancy tried to protest, but Nico wouldn't have any of it, as he continued without listening to what the little rebel was saying "I assume you'd like to avoid punishment so let's make an offer;" Clancy he looked up at the tall figure donned in the scarlet cloak. He added, "How about you make music for our city—Promote vialism and we will not harm you"

The bishops promptly left promptly, to let him decide, but Keons lingered for a moment, looking at Clancy with sad eyes. He left before he could ask anything. Now that there was silence, Clancy pondered the severity of the situation. He could take them up on the offer, but it would go against everything he believes in. He then wonders what the Torchbearer would be thinking right now. It was quite dark—although that didn't give him a clue about the time, as Dema had no sun—he assumed that the banditos would be in their tents, at camp, asleep. Torchbearer was his knight in shining armor, always there to save him, with a soft smile on his face, never tired of having to retrieve Clancy everytime.

In the middle of the night, our Torchbearer awoke by the sounds of soft rustling of the leaves. The fire had almost gone out, but he was certain that the eternal flame couldn't be blown by a mere breeze. "The wind was working overtime," he thought. Normally, he'd have been upset at Clancy's absence, but he had gotten used to it.

Suddenly, he got up. He got out of his tent, pulled his bandana up to his nose, stepped into his boots and walked over to the campfire, where his torch was standing, stuck into the ground. He pulled it out, and started walking. Then sprinting. He was running, running away from the responsibility he was forced into. If Clancy had the right to escape, why didn't he? Suddenly, anxiety flew into his mind. He was a fast runner, he knew that, but what he doubted was if he was silent enough. He was afraid that the banditos would hear him and drag him back to camp. He felt a twinge of guilt at the thought of leaving them behind, but he didn't care anymore.

He ran till the camp was far out of sight. He was still in Trench, of course—it was a huge continent. He checked in his pocket and pulled out a compass still pointed east. Ever since his escape from Dema, his instincts were to always run eastwards, no matter what. His compass wasn't like the ones in the cement city, those ones were rigged. The banditos had learnt to make their own compasses by now, they were smart enough.

He wandered through the landmass. From the corner of his eye, he could see a figure quite far away. He couldn't exactly tell who it was, due to various reasons. The dark night shielded the identity of the figure. At first, he thought it was a bandito sent to retrieve him, but he couldn't see if they were wearing a jumpsuit or yellow tape. So, he concluded it was not a bandito, but rather an escapee from the city. His first instinct was to go to them and help them navigate the land. He was kind, and maybe that's why he was so troubled. 

Angstrom Levy was exploring new universes that he hadn't been to before. He had recently discovered universes where [titlecard] never existed. This one seemed to be just a vast expanse of a grassland, quite boring, huh? Quite evidently, he was lost. To his surprise, he could see a person, holding a torch. He pulled the hood of his grey sweater further to hide his face from the inhabitant. 

Unfortunately, he could see the man was walking towards him. Angstrom thought of teleporting away, but something about the man's presence made him stay. He noticed as he got closer, the person looked quite like drummer of that one band. Twenty One Aircrafts?  Was that the name? Well, something along those lines, but he didn't care. 

Torchbearer approached the man dressed in the depressing grey colour. It looked like a slightly warmer hue than the assigned outfits of the Cement City. He brushed it off as maybe he couldn't see well in the darkness. But he could see the difference in color clearly. He could never forget that shade of grey. Everytime he rescued Clancy, he'd be dressed in those clothes—and even before that, he himself used to wear those sad greys. 

"Are you an escapee?" Inquired Torchbearer.

"Huh?" Questioned Angstrom. Escapee from where? Was this place more interesting than what he had thought at first? 

"I'm lost" He deflected. 

The man wielding the torch shrugged and said, "Leadership is my strong suit."

They walked up to a place equally as barren as the rest of Trench. He could've taken the wanderer to the cottonwood trees, but that was his and Clancy's thing. The branches of the tree, when broken at the nodes, looked like they had a small star inside of them. Torchbearer had to help Clancy break them, as he could never figure out how to do it himself. Seems like he always needed Torchbearer's help. 

"Hey, uh..." Angstrom started, not knowing the inhabitant's name. 

"Torchbearer" He completed Angstrom's sentence. 

"I'd like to ask a favour from you." He began. Torchbearer hummed in interest. 

"Where I'm from—" Torchbearer interrupted suddenly, "you're not from Dema?"

"Huh?" He replied. "Uh, no." He continued. "Where I'm from, there's some people, who don't exactly like me, and want me dead." Torch stopped walking, and asked why. "I wanted to make the world a better place, and certain people didn't quite like that. I need your help to defeat them."

Angstrom pulled down the hood of his grey sweater, and revealed the monstrosity hidden beneath. Torchbearer looked in shock. 

"They turned me into a monster, Torch"

He gripped Torchbearer's shoulders tightly, and made intense eye contact with his crazed eyes.

"You'll help me, won't you?"

Torchbearer hesitated—he couldn't give such a big favour, at least he couldn't make this decision in such a small frame of time. He opened his mouth to answer, but before words could comeout,  the land beneath his feet disappeared and he was dropped in a totally new environment. 

Chapter Text

It was bright, sunny, and bustling with people. Torchbearer hadn't seen such a great amount of people, ever since he had left Dema—which was a LONG time ago. He saw people dressed in various colours and styles. He noticed a few heads turning to look his way. 

Torchbearer looked around in the crowded atmosphere. A short woman, possibly in her early twenties, came up to him excitedly. She held a small notepad and a black ballpoint pen. She asked him for an autograph. He looked at her completely puzzled. An autograph? Was he famous? He normally signed the ends of his letters with a simple 'T.B', so he assumed that's what she wanted. He took the pen from her, and signed the notepad while she gushed on about him being such a wonderful drummer, and how he saved her life. Then it clicked, she must've also been a citizen, who heard the rebellious music he and Clancy made. He would've said something, but the newness of the situation silenced him. She walked away shortly after that. 

Donald saw Angstrom Levy walking down the city street. There was someone else alongside him, but he didn't know who that was. A person seeming to be in costume, and holding a torch in broad daylight. That was a fire hazard, wasn't it? 

"Sir... you should see this"

Cecil walked over to where Donald was standing and placed a hand on his shoulder. The man walking next to Angstrom looked quite like the drummer of that one band forty two air hostesses. The band which you could never avoid anywhere you went in 2016. Cecil gestured to a random employee to send some GDA soldiers after them once they were in a more secluded area. 

Torchbearer let Angstrom lead him through the strange land. It was odd to have someone else to follow, but he didn't have any complaints. The crowd thinned out as they walked. 

"Finally, some room to breathe"  Torchbearer thought. 

Suddenly, he saw people armed in green and black armour appear out of thin air. Angstrom summoned a portal and escaped immediately, leaving Torchbearer to fend for himself. He didn't know what happened next, as he was immoblised by their extensive technology. 

When he awoke, he was attacked by the cold, sterile environment produced by the fluorescent lights. It sent him into a flashback of being in Dema. The same cold and detached atmosphere caused by the neon. Except, here, it was much brighter than Dema could ever be. 

He looked around, taking note of his surroundings, although the bright lights hurt his eyes which had gotten used to darkness. He was laying on a bed—something he didn't have the comfort of using in a long time. His torch was near him, but it was just out of reach, and was encased in glass. It stood on a stand. 

Tyler and Josh were in a greenroom in Washington DC, just after playing a show for a great audience. Both of them simultaneously got phone calls from "The Pentagon" and "The Government". Obviously, that was a scam, so neither of them picked the calls up, and went about their days. 

"It's truly strange, sir, the flame hasn't dimmed once. Even if we cut off the oxygen supply, it is still burning." Donald said to Cecil as they approached the room in which the doppelganger of Joshua William Dun (as Cecil was informed of his name) stayed. They had tried to call the members of the band, but it seems they were too busy to pick up calls from the US Pentagon. 

They notice the man awake, and also very confused and scared. 

"Who are you? Where am I?" Questioned Torchbearer. 

Cecil stayed silent, allowing Donald to answer. 

"The man to my left is the Director of the Global Defense Agency, and I am his assistant. You are in the United States Pentagon."

Upon hearing that the nearly bald man was in a position of power, he tensed up; he was probably just like the Bishops, cruel and depressive. He had no idea about this world, so he just kept asking questions, about Angstrom, the land, and many more things. None answered completely. 

Chapter Text

Back in Dema, Clancy is still here. Back in his living quarters, still waiting for the return of his Torchbearer. He had decided to produce music for Dema to promote Vialism. He hopes Torchbearer would arrive before he releases the record. The Bishops' surveillance on him have increased tenfold. The idea of Keons watching him soundsd quite nice, but he shook these thoughts from his head.

The Banditos were quite worried as their leader was nowhere to be found. They sesrcher far and wide, but couldn't find him. They concluded that he must be in Dema. They made a plan spanning the next two weeks to get him (and Clancy) out of there, provided he was there. This was a huge risk for them, as there was a possibility of him not being there, which put the Banditos at risk of being captured. But, where else could he go? Voldsøy couldn't even be considered because it was so far away, and there was no way he could've gotten there so fast.