Goldenclaws HQ, Meeting Room
Young Mo and the rest of the council returned from their 30-minute tea break. Because apparently, even evil masterminds agreed that plotting felt smoother when done with warm tea and biscuits in hand.
“Huh? Where’s Duke William?” King Cassemir asked.
“Hmm,” Duke Emmerson replied with a shrug, “he said he needed a quick relief.”
“Tch! We all know what ‘relief’ means for Duke William,” Cassemir said.
The Meridinian faction let out polite, aristocratic chuckles—restrained enough to maintain dignity, but loud enough to count as participation. Young Mo smiled along, praying internally, and praying again that nothing catastrophic would happen.
Then the door opened.
Duke William stood there.
“Ah, terribly sorry,” he said with a bow, “I hope I wasn’t too late.”
He entered slowly, with unnecessary dramatic slowness.
“Hmph. Feeling ‘relieved’ yet, Duke William?” King Baldrik scoffed.
William didn’t answer. Instead, behind him, a squad of Goldenclaws steam armors marched in—shields up, discipline sharp, obedience depressing.
Young Mo didn’t react.
But he knew.
Something had gone very wrong.
“What’s the meaning of this?!” Baldrik scolded his soldiers.
“My apologies, Your Majesty,” the armor captain replied, “but Duke William requested our assistance for a security breach.”
The armors fanned out, circling the room into position.
“Duke William,” Cassemir said with a glare, “care to explain?”
“Yes. My apologies, Your Majesty,” William bowed again. “I happened to find that one of the guests’ entourage had suddenly gone missing.”
“And per security protocols,” the armor captain added, “VIP evacuation to the safe room is required until the threat is verified neutral.”
“Sigh,” Baldrik grunted as he stood up, “my apologies, gentlemen. Protocol is protocol. We can continue the meeting in the safe room while my men do their job.”
“No worries,” Cassemir said, also standing. “A security breach has basically become a cultural festival for rangers at this point.”
Chairs scraped. Capes adjusted. Boots marched.
Everyone moved toward the door.
Everyone but Young Mo.
The room paused, confused why Dillian remained seated, posture immaculate, dignity weaponized.
“What’s the matter, Dillian?” William asked, his voice now cold and suspicious. “Having difficulty moving?”
Young Mo replied with a calm, polite, cold smile.
“That’s weird,” William said.
He flicked his fingers.
The decorative flags dropped like fainting opera singers.
Several decorative flags on the walls fell like dead curtains. Behind them, glowing and humming ominously, was a massive ankh with two stripes—the Goddess’s holy symbol.
“When this holy contraption activates,” William said, “humans or other humanoids remain mobile. Unless…” he leaned in, “…you’re a demon masquerading as one.”
Shk. Shk. Shk.
The armors’ cannons locked onto Young Mo. He maintained his smile.
“Tch! Murican spies?!” Cassemir roared.
“Well, you got me,” Young Mo said, still seated and unbothered. “Pretty similar to the holy restraining spells the Vandorians used on Satan during the last war with Murica, no?”
“Indeed,” William smirked. “But consider this the latest upgrade.”
“So Murica already knows,” Cassemir muttered. “And Dillian is gone. Does this change our plans?”
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“I don’t think that’s necessary,” Baldrik said with his arms folded. “My intel from the Murican embassy ambush at Hearthguard Cairn confirmed their communication tools failed underground.”
“That means,” Cassemir said with a grave nod, “the Murican spies are absolutely not allowed to reach the surface.”
“Your Majesty,” Duke Emmerson stepped in, voice firm, “we must evacuate now. We can’t risk leaking more of our plans.”
“Very well.” Cassemir looked at Baldrik. “I trust you and your men will ensure no Murican spies leave this stronghold?”
“Hmph.” Baldrik replied coldly. “They and the secrets they want… will be buried in my headquarters’ deepest underground. Forever.”
A room full of antagonists stared at Young Mo coldly.
He stared back with a equal cold smile.
---
Langley, BICH Headquarters
RATATATATATATA
BANG BANG BANG BANG
Janet and several BICH officers stared at the monitors in collective denial as the Misfits’ audio feed revealed them violently resolving internal disagreements—with bullets. At the same time, Young Mo’s feed calmly disclosed his capture.
Mo blinked back into the present, returning from his clone’s vision.
“My clone got busted,” Mo said.
“Yes, sir…” Janet replied, rubbing the bridge of her nose, “I heard.”
“Goldenclaws and Meridinian folks have some annoying hardware,” Mo continued. “Upgraded holy-constraining spell. Purely mechanical, too. No need for priest sacrifices like last year. I guess Murica has infected many annoying parties with the spirit of efficiency and progress, maybe.”
Janet nodded. “I’ll forward this to the military. And what about your clone?”
Mo paused to think. The gunfight symphony continued in the background, providing inspiration for his thought process.
“We can’t sacrifice him,” Mo muttered. “We need the video recording of the meeting.”
“Understood, sir,” Janet said. “I’ll tell Megan to hurry and retrieve the Misfits, and coordinate rescue operations with them.”
“Sigh…” Mo exhaled, waving a hand. “Yeah. Do that. At least they’ll need to share some of our suffering for their stupidity.”
A BICH officer suddenly marched toward Mo, rushing.
“Sir. You have a call from the Pentagon,” the officer said. “They’re requesting an urgent meeting on Dwargonia. Their Grand Marshal, our Foreign Minister, and our Ambassador are confirmed alive.”
Mo brightened a little. “Well, at least that’s an update that doesn’t give me a headache.”
Then he glanced at the monitor again.
RATATATATATATA
BANG BANG BANG BANG
The Misfits were still fighting each other.
The headache returned. Mo sighed again, softer this time.
---
Dungeon Secret Room
Meanwhile, the prime contributors to Mo’s chronic migraine were still busy conducting team brainstorming on their differences through firearms.
RATATATATATATATATATA
Bella hosed the stone pillars and Kovalski’s general direction with her M240L. Kovalski hid behind a stone pillar that was no longer much of a pillar anymore.
“KYAAAHAHAHAHAHA!” Bella cackled, spiraling.
“WHY ARE YOU ONLY SHOOTING ME?!” Kovalski yelled. “THERE’S IVY AND THE CAPTAIN TOO!”
“Call it personal preference! KYAHAHAHA!” Bella answered coolly, refusing to release the trigger.
RATATAT— CLICK CLICK CLICK
The gun finally starved.
“Uh oh,” Bella whispered to herself, feeling dread creeping in.
Kovalski peeked out from his cover with a villainous grin.
“Uhh… 15 seconds?” Bella attempted diplomacy. “…please?”
PSSHT PSSHT PSSHT PSSHT PSSHT
Kovalski responded by chasing her while firing his suppressed MP5, excited to return the favor from the past few minutes.
“KYAAAAAA!” Bella shrieked as she ran.
“TAKE THIS, YOU IDIOT GIRL!” Kovalski barked with pure enjoyment.
“TOO BAD YOUR ‘PERSONAL PREFERENCE’ TOOK RIDICULOUSLY LONG TO RELOAD! HAHAHAHA!”
While those two were busy with their revenge game, Ivy silently slithered toward the pedestal like a raccoon approaching shiny crime.
She grinned when she saw the chalice—until a muzzle sprouted from the shadowy corner behind a stone pillar.
PSSHT PSSHT PSSHT PSSHT
Ivy side-leapt, rolled, and produced her Beretta M9 masterfully.
BANG BANG BANG
She fired back before continuing her roll behind another stone pillar.
“Captain,” Ivy said, panting but charismatic, “you should let me take the chalice. After that, I’ll share the Single Piece with everyone.”
Across from her, Irving reloaded his suppressed MP5, expression cold.
“Well, Ivy,” Irving said, “if sharing is the objective, then I should be the one to take it. I’m the highest rank here.”
“Yeah, you wish,” Ivy whispered.
She peeked out and dashed to another pillar.
“Well, Captain, too bad—this is adventurer business now!” Ivy shouted.
“That means me, the A-rank, outranks your B-rank!”
Irving twitched irritably.
“Tch,” he said. “You would’ve been a B-minus if you hadn’t broken into the Adventurer Guild to edit only your own test results and hadn’t even bothered to edit ours.”
PSSHT PSSHT PSSHT PSSHT PSSHT PSSHT PSSHT
He unloaded fully automatic bursts at her. Ivy leapt again, landing behind yet another pillar.
“AND I TOLD YOU ALL TO PAY FOR THAT!” Ivy yelled.
“YET NONE OF YOU EVEN PAID ME!”
Bullets, insults, and emotional baggage were heavily traded in that room.
---
Goldenclaws HQ, Boiler Room
Megan had now slipped into the boiler room—quiet and nimble.
“Overlord, I’m finally at the boiler room,” Megan murmured into her comm. “Sigh… there are so many patrols upstairs hunting us.”
“Good,” Janet replied, tone clipped and efficient. “Based on the idiots’ chatter, a maintenance path should connect to a deeper underground dungeon.”
Megan padded forward. The boiler room was a cathedral of industry—hissing pipes, piston-throbbing furnaces, and coal-fed bellies roaring like contained stars. The air tasted like metal.
Then she found it. A side corridor, half-hidden behind pressure valves and a stack of insulation crates. A narrow service tunnel descended into the darkness.
“Found it,” Megan confirmed. “By the way—what are those idiots fighting about now?”
“Well, there’s a lot of screaming and swearing about treasure and something called the Single Piece,” Janet answered.
Megan froze mid-crouch. “Single Piece?!”
“You recognize it?” Janet asked.
“Yeah,” Megan said. “I heard about it from a Ravendawn guard I used to hang out with in Dawn. Apparently, it’s the crown jewel of a mythical bandit king. Some Talvaris legendary treasure nonsense.”
“And the Misfits just found it?” Janet blurted. “Under Goldenclaws HQ of all places?”
“Either the universe loves them,” Megan said, “or it was setting them up for a punchline we haven’t heard yet.”
Static rustled. Janet was clearly talking to someone off-line, muffled but still audible.
“Megan,” Janet returned, “I checked with the old man. He wants you to grab the Single Piece if you can. He says he can use it to squeeze the Ministry of Finance for budget leverage… and maybe secure some nice bonuses for us.”
Megan’s grin unfurled—slow, villainous, and oddly cute.
“Kukuku… copy,” she chirped. “So the Misfits were a walking disaster and a holiday bonus fund. Who knew?”
Psssst.
Like… reading 20 chapters ahead fun?
It’s a little dark. A little shady.
But don’t think too hard about it.
??
Have fun in there.
