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Legends: A Story of Lies [Star vs. The Forces of Evil, Gravity Falls, Big Bad Beetleborgs]
- Thread starter The Ero-Sennin
- Start date
Volume 8 EX: Resolution
The Ero-Sennin
Shitposter no more
- Joined
- Oct 2, 2014
- Messages
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- 32,964
Been a while since this place has been active. Here's a capper chapter to bring it all together. Volume 9 is underway, had to do a bit of writing for 1899 arc and prepare for the story's scope to broaden, because things are about to get very complicated in Echo Creek.
Within the crypt hideout of the Magnavores, Barla emerged in a burst of black flame, walking up to Vexor as he read through the biography of Art Fortunes. Turning, he lowered the book and gestured to her with his unoccupied hand in a palm up, polite greeting.
"Dragonslayer Barla, it is good to see you returned alive; I sensed tremendous power during your battle, to the point it interfered with my scrying."
Barla nodded. "The battle was intense, more than I was told to expect."
Vexor found that curious. "Oh?"
"I've been told that these were children playing games, that when faced with a strong opponent, their resolve would shatter, and they would be exposed as the naïve fools Jara claimed they were."
Vexor detected how Barla's tone dipped and how she spat out Jara's name, when they had been so close at their reunion. However, he focused on Barla's observation. "I see."
"When we fought, however, they held their ground. No, when they saw the difference between us, they only attacked with greater intensity, determined to keep hitting me until something broke." She stopped and shook her head. "Even after all their efforts to harm me failed and I told them to surrender, they did not care and offered to continue fighting."
Barla looked at her scuffed and scorched armored gauntlets. "That is not the mindset of children pretending, that is a warrior's commitment to stand and fight, something that is supposed to be respected."
Vexor weighed on Barla's report. Despite the tremendous power he mentioned before… the battle was inconclusive. Indeed, Barla's armor bore the brunt of their ferocity. These were ominous signs regarding the success of this operation.
There was a greater concern, however. "Is everything well between you and Jara despite this error on her part?"
"No, and in the future, I will not associate with Jara directly. I will take orders from you, but not her. Nor will I join her on the battlefield unless otherwise commanded."
It was as Vexor worried. "What has brought this on?"
"Jara has demonstrated leadership, strategic, and combat ability not meeting the standards she had set out for her own Mercenary Army. For that, I have deemed her unfit as a warrior and leader and will disregard her as such."
A complication, and one that Vexor did not particularly care for. In less than half a day, the two mercenaries had gone from joyously reunited comrades to being on no speaking terms whatsoever. To say it could be a liability in future operations was an understatement. If their enemies learned of this discord, it would be a disaster.
He did not want to resort to this, but he had no choice.
"May I suggest, Barla," he began, "That you set aside this enmity towards Jara."
Barla did a double take. "Excuse me?"
"Since we arrived in this world, I have observed that Jara has not been herself in battle. Something has shaken her since our campaign started, and I fear that the death of Saberizer has deepened this trauma."
The Dragonslayer stared at Vexor in profound confusion, not expecting that explanation of Jara from him of all people. "… Ah… I see."
Vexor gestured to her. "In summoning you, it had been my hope that her morale would be boosted, and she would return to form. However, I see that has not happened."
He turned away from her, walking towards his sarcophagus. "Going forward, I suggest that the two of you discuss your differences in my presence, so that I may mediate and moderate your disagreement, and that you both may come to a resolution that does not interfere with or otherwise derail our campaign."
Reaching the end of the massive stone container, Vexor turned back to Barla and noted the strange look she was giving him. "Is something the matter?"
"No, it's not," Barla said. "As a matter of fact, what you've suggested is well-reasoned and sensible. I just wasn't expecting it from Vexor Gaohm."
"Oh?"
"From what I've understand, you're an insane egotist who thinks himself superior to both brothers of the Melzard Tribe and Bill Cipher."
Vexor chuckled. "That being true does not make me an insane egotist, Barla."
There it was. "How do you figure yourself superior to The Lord of Nightmares, The Abyssal King, and The One-Eyed Beast?"
Vexor gestured outward with both hands. "For all their power, the brothers of Melzard bicker like children, and that pointless, perpetual spat leaves them easy prey to the likes of Bill Cipher, who himself claimed to be all-powerful and brilliant in his insanity–but was little more than a trickster punching down upon lower beings. In every story I've heard of him, his undoings were against minds only slightly cleverer than the common ape."
"What you said about the Melzard isn't untrue," Barla admitted, "And honestly I've packed up enough of Bill's Henchmaniacs to see that in his absence they are more pitiful and non-threatening than he advertised them as."
She gestured to him. "Still, you'd never defeat any of them if you came to blows."
Vexor chuckled. "That goes without saying. However, through avoiding such blows, clarity of vision, and excellent fortune through the folly of our foes… I never have to."
He lifted his right hand aloft. "We are no longer prisoners of the perpetual entropic hell that is the Nightmare Realm. We can claim this reality for ourselves, and with time we can take any other reality we please while those fools we left behind burn in their prison."
With a sweep of his right arm, he gestured in the direction of Hillhurst. "Dealing with our enemies here is no different. Choosing how we engage them, disengaging as we see fit, manipulating the situation so we do not have to engage them. That is how the Magnavores will conquer this world, and then the stars, and then every corner of existence. That is why your assessment of them after this battle is so important and why resolving whatever conflict you have with Jara is even more so."
Barla was sold. More than convinced, she was impressed by Vexor. Of course he would have such an ego. Not only has his small group survived in the Nightmare Realm… they had gotten out.
"I see," she said softly, before she spoke louder. "Thank you, Vexor, for your criticism and advice. As… difficult as it is for me to bear it, I will speak to Jara and arrange that we settle things before you."
Vexor brought his hands together, grateful. "Ah, thank you, Barla. We can ill-afford any in-fighting. Fortunately, the next phases of our operation are in the hands of Typhus and Noxic, so you will have time to approach your friend."
Barla nodded. "Very well, I shall."
With that, Barla disappeared again in a jet of black flame. Alone in the crypt once more, Vexor folded his hands over his abdomen, as he began to pace around the sarcophagus, calculating a change to the strategy he set forth. One thing was for certain, he realized.
"I must be more hands on in my management of these four," he stated to himself.
It was well after nine in the evening at the Diaz Household, and most everyone else had gone home after the hearty meal to celebrate Marco's safe return. Only Dipper stayed behind, sitting on the edge of Star's bed as Marco–extra tired from the long and climactic day–lay on the bed directly beside him.
Star was in her closet, moving things around inside the strangely large room looking for the Magic Instruction Book.
Dipper huffed in amusement, trying to distract himself from the fact he was sitting so close to him. "How hard can a giant book be to find?"
"You want to go in there and help her? Be my guest." Marco cast a dark look towards the closet, remembering the last time he was in there. "I'm not setting foot in that heap again without my own Beetleborg armor."
"That bad, huh? Sounds like Mabel's closet."
Marco sat up, concerned. "Wait, is having messy closets just a thing that girls do?"
Dipper shrugged his shoulders. "I don't think we can put Mabel or Star in the same category as other girls."
There was a loud rumble and thump, before Star let out a grunt in frustration. "Ugh, it was on my bed when we left earlier. Glossaryk, did you move the book in here?"
Almost immediately, a voice replied from under the bed. "Well, I'm not going to just let it sit around in the open. While I don't mind Janna having a look, that Jo girl has an evil glint in her eye."
Dipper and Marco both looked down at the floor just off the edge of the bed, as another, larger rumble filled the room. A large, dromaeosaurid dinosaur leaped out of the closet, Star perched upon its back and gripping its reins. She was dressed like she was auditioning for a spot in a Predator remake.
Both boys jumped back onto the bed, Dipper instinctively putting his arms out to shield Marco behind him, as Star leaped off the dinosaur and then slapped its flank.
"Go back inside, Sprinkles Refreshing," She commanded. With a loud coo, like a pigeon with the deepest possible voice, the dinosaur stalked back into the closet and the door shut behind it.
Star laid down on the floor to look under the bed, then reached under. "Well, then you can come out now…" She pulled back, the leather strap that bound the book gripped in her hand. "… Because we need to talk!"
She dragged the massive Magic Instruction Book out from under the bed like she was pulling a tire through a roadside drainage pipe to unclog it.
Emerging like said tire, the Magic Instruction book opened with a thud to reveal two pages: The first featuring snakes in varying shades of purple zigzagging across the page, and the second bearing a bleached white skull with glowing blue chains extending to the corners of the page–as though to lock the contents beyond it. And from the very center of the book itself, Sir Glossaryck of Terms emerged from a circle of blue light, floating with his legs folded beneath him and his arms tucked into the sleeves of his shirt in front of him.
Dipper's attention darted sharply from the locked page to Glossaryck, who was facing Star.
"Also, you didn't even offer me any food," he continued grieving over why he hid. "Maybe Glossaryck wanted some pizza and chicken wings, did it ever occur to you to ask?"
Staring back at him, Star slowly shook her head. "Not really, no."
Marco hit upon an idea, but kept it to himself, as Star pointed at Dipper. "But I did bring Dipper!"
Glossaryck turned around, the book's pages flipping towards the front and concealing the pages he emerged from, to face the indicated young man. "Oh, you… did?"
The little blue creature stopped and stared at the younger Pines Twin, an expression that a human could mistake for surprise appearing on his features before he floated up to and began circling around him as if examining a statue. "… Hmm…"
"Uhh… hi?" Dipper asked as he followed Glossaryck's path around him.
Glossaryck didn't respond, instead humming in interest as he came around in front of him. "… Curious."
He floated up to Dipper's face, and pushed up his curly bangs, revealing the Big Dipper-shaped birthmark on his forehead. "… Fascinating!"
Dipper's eyes narrowed slightly in annoyance. "Do you mind?"
Glossaryck pulled back and inserted his right hand into his left arm's sleeve. "You really are the Pine Tree; then Bill Cipher is truly dead."
"I hope so," Dipper said. "And don't call me 'Pine Tree' or 'The Pine Tree' or 'Conifer' or any nickname like that."
The strange creature nodded. "All right, Mason it is!"
"DIPPER," he corrected sharply.
Marco looked at Dipper. "Wait, your name's really Mason?"
"Do not call me that," Dipper said. "The only names I will answer to are Dipper or Tyrone."
Marco wasn't sure about that one. "I don't know if this is racist, but you do not look like a Tyrone to me."
"It is, and he doesn't," Glossaryck said.
This was getting off to a great start, said no one. In fact, everyone in the room with comprehensible minds thought the opposite as Star intervened. "Glossaryck! I said we needed to talk!"
"Right, of course," Glossaryck said. "But it's late, and I wasn't offered any pizza…"
Marco knew he'd go for it, and countered Glossaryck's childishness. "We have some leftovers, and it's still a bit above room temperature."
That changed Glossaryck's tune completely. "Do you, now? That's when it is the best for eating."
Dipper had to hand it to Marco as he continued bargaining with Glossaryck. "And you'll get all of it when you tell us everything we need to know without any riddles or cryptic wordplay."
"Yeah, no metaphors, either," Star said.
Glossaryck gave them all a disappointed look. "You're really taking the fun out of this."
"Well, it's the fate of the world," Star argued. "Maybe two!"
The tiny blue man's expression brightened at that. "Well, when you put it with such actual concern, how can I disagree? What would you like to know?"
Dipper was the one who asked. "You've been around for a long time; did you know a Dr. Hillhurst?"
Glossaryck went unusually still as he hovered in the air–like a figurine locked in time and space where he floated. The only thing changing was his face, his eyes widening as old memories resurfaced behind his diamond-shaped pupils.
"Huh, that is a name I have not heard in a long time," he said with the interest of a wizened sage being reminded of an old life. "Dr. Aloysius Hillhurst?"
"Yeah."
Glossaryck appeared to understand, and his next words confirmed it. "His house is still there, isn't it? And you found something in it you need my help to open."
The three teens all shared surprised looks.
"Can you?" Star asked.
Glossaryck shook his head. "Nope."
Marco jumped on that. "Are you able to?"
"Nope," Glossaryck repeated.
"Why?" Dipper asked.
"Because it's not my place to, and as it's not my place, it is not something I can open," Glossaryck explained. "Magic is funny like that. What I can tell you, is that you've probably primed two of the locks… you just need the third key:"
He waved his hands like someone exaggerating a mystical artifact. "The Warden's Ring."
Now they had even more questions. "And what's that?"
Glossaryck made good on his promise of straight answers. "It's a ring of great magical power, bestowed once upon a time to a group of powerful warriors called–well–Wardens."
Star asked. "Like… Jail Warden?"
"Warden is a funny word with multiple meanings, but in this case, it means protector," Glossaryck explained. "The Wardens were once guardians of Magic, serving to protect all dimensions from The Forces of Evil."
"Like Mina Loveberry, the Solarian Warrior!" Star said excitedly.
Glossaryck's expression shifted to one of mild distaste at the mention of that name–if only for an instant–as he confirmed Star's suggestion. "Erm… yes, like her."
Something that made this little weirdo uncomfortable? Marco was curious. "Who's Mina?"
"Oh, just Mewni's greatest warrior. She's basically our Kim Possible," Star explained.
Marco stopped. "Why haven't we called on her?"
"Because she'd tell my Mom," Star explained, "And that would be that."
Glossaryck agreed. "There are other reasons to not want to deal with Mina, but we'll go with that as the most pertinent one."
Expecting more details later, Dipper stayed on topic. "So, what happened to the Wardens?"
"Most of them are gone now," Glossaryck said. "The Warden of this dimension is one of the last. If not the very last one."
"What happened to them?" Dipper asked.
"It varied. Some simply lost their lives in the line of duty, grew old and passed on, or fought in a big civil war to try to conquer the multiverse and wiped themselves out. What I know for certain is that there's hardly any left. The last Warden I knew was a friend of Dr. Hillhurst, who took it upon herself to be the protector of this dimension."
There sounded like a lot was going on back in Dr. Hillhurst's day. "How much do you know about what happened with Dr. Hillhurst?"
"Yeah, why is there a shrine that only reacts to Star and I?" Marco asked.
"Not a terribly great deal. I only met Dr. Hillhurst briefly," Glossaryck said as he looked from Marco to Star, "As your Great-Great Grandmother Celena did not rely on me as much as other bearers of the wand."
"Great-Great Grandma Celena came to Earth before?" Star asked, surprised.
Glossaryck nodded. "Of course. This dimension has a long history with Mewni. Celena visited here, your Grandfather on your mother's side is from here–"
"WAIT, WHAT?!" Star shouted.
"Your mother didn't tell you?" Glossaryck asked, before he realized the pointlessness of bothering. "Oh, who am I kidding? With how she foisted you on your father and Royal Guard and only steps in to discipline you, it's no wonder you barely know anything about her."
"My mother didn't…" Pausing, Star took a moment to reflect. "… Okay, yeah, she did do that. A lot."
Marco and Dipper shared awkward looks as the conversation took a turn despite their best efforts.
Star, prescient of this, valiantly stopped making this about her. "Anyway! You don't know why Great-Great Grandma came here, right? Did you find out… at all?"
Glossaryck shrugged his shoulders. "Honestly, it wasn't something she talked about at all, to anyone. Not that she talked about much of anything, there's a reason she's called Celena The Shy."
"So how do we find this Warden?" Marco asked. "If this all happened that long ago, then she's probably as long gone as Celena."
Glossaryck stroked his beard.. "That's true. Given how the Warden Ring survived through the ages into the last century, however, I don't doubt that she passed it on to a descendant."
"How do we find her descendants, then?"
The tiny creature chuckled. "Oh that one's easy: just look for the strongest person around dressed in pink, and you've found this world's Warden."
"Pink?" The three said in unison again, before Marco's eyes shot wide in recognition.
"… There's no way," he said suddenly, in awe and a little fear of the coincidences he's encountered today.
"Who…?" Dipper asked.
Marco looked at Glossaryck, then at Dipper and Star. "I think he's talking about SheZow."
A moment of silence passed, before Dipper asked. "… The same SheZow who got run out of her hometown on a rail and has not appeared since?"
Another moment of silence passed, before Marco palmed his face with both hands. "Of course…"
Star rested a hand on Marco's shoulder. "Don't worry, Marco! I'm sure we can find SheZow, and who knows… maybe we can get her to help us against the Magnavores!"
Dipper agreed. "She's right. After everything that happened to her, I think SheZow would love to have a comeback."
Surprisingly, Glossaryck was on the same page. "I wouldn't mind meeting a Warden after everything that was said and done with them."
"Then we have another thing to ask Elise about," Dipper said. "I feel like getting the armoire open will answer a lot of questions about Hillhurst Mansion, Flabber, and the monsters."
Glossaryck perked up. "Ooh, I'd like to meet them, too. You wouldn't mind introducing me some time, would you, Star?"
"Not at all," Star said.
"We'll probably need to bring the book over to the house anyway," Dipper said. "Something this useful should stay in the Beete Battle Base"
That was a good point. Before further plans could be made, there was a knock at the door. When all looked over, Angie opened it and peeked inside.
"Marco, Star, there's someone outside who wants to see you, one of your classmates," she revealed.
Marco turned to her. "Huh, which one?"
"Brittney," Angie revealed.
The three teens all looked at each other, and then at the time. What could Brittney Wong want at this time of night?
With the help of the Dimensional Scissors, Drew and Jo stepped into the small backyard of their home, fenced off and out of view from their cul-de-sac neighbors in their almost identical and prefabricated clay shingle-roofed homes. Looking at one another, they nodded and crept around the side of the house and reached the open garage door containing their family's vehicles.
"There's no way Dad's not up," Jo said. "He's going to give you shit."
Drew shrugged his shoulders, as they went to the door leading to the kitchen. "I mean, yeah? School got cut early, and we've basically been no show all day. What else is he going to do but bitch at me?"
Jo couldn't help her snicker at Drew's harsh attitude. She was even more amused when Drew simply stepped into the kitchen rather than attempt a discreet entrance. He strode ahead of her, headed into the living room.
Mr. and Mrs. McCormick were both waiting, turning to look at Drew simultaneously as he came into the living room. Mr. McCormick, his expression droll and unimpressed as always at first, grew genuinely surprised when he saw his son's bandage-free and unblemished face. Mrs. McCormick, her own usually down-cast if not neutral look lit with genuine concern, moved to rise from her seat, but then stopped in confusion when she saw Drew's face and the general lack of concern in both her children.
"Andrew…?" She began, before Mr. McCormick raised his hand up off the armrest of his chair in a calm, halting gesture. Pausing, she quietly yielded to him as she retired back to her chair but stayed on the edge of it.
Drew and Jo's gazes lingered on her as they turned to their father, who did not bother to rise and was schooling his expression as he adjusted his glasses with two fingers. His gaze was locked on Drew, looking at him in the same way one would look at a crack they had just discovered in their car's windshield after an already bad day.
"Where have you two been? Why did you not come straight home after school?"
"We were hanging out with Roland," Drew said, before Jo could.
"At Zoom?" Mr. McCormick asked, sounding like he'd take that affirmative and then call Nano for the security tapes to be sure.
"No, we were practicing karate all day," Drew explained.
Sensei Brantley didn't have cameras in his dojo.
Mr. McCormick found that unusual. "Since when do you practice karate?"
Jo stepped in. "Since a couple weeks ago, Dad. We practice over at the Hill-Trank Plaza like three times a week."
Their father narrowed his eyes in suspicion. "Aren't you two a little old for karate kicks?"
"You're never too old to start," Jo argued. "Plus, it's something for us to do beside read comics all day. That's something you've been on us about, right?"
On Drew about, but Jo was in something of a fighting mood and throwing some shit back in a hater's face.
Expressing his doubts, and wanting to focus on his son, Mr. McCormick let out a dismissive hum before gesturing at Drew's face. "What happened to your bruises, and the bandages?"
Bringing a hand to his cheek, Drew blinked owlishly before he shrugged his shoulders with the same dismissive energy. "Oh, I guess I got better."
"Better, huh?" Mr. McCormick scrutinized Drew's face before looking him up and down. "No… I think you lied about getting beaten up. To try to get sympathy to go to your dance."
Drew lowered his hand from his face. "Uh-huh, and since when could I expect sympathy from you?"
Silence fell on the McCormick household's living room following that. Mrs. McCormick drew back slightly, her eyes widening slightly with apprehension as Jo looked up at her brother, impressed.
Drew stared his Dad down, feeling the same intense defiance that he faced Barla with earlier. "Full disclosure, Dad. On Friday and Saturday I snuck out of this house under your nose to attend the homecoming game and to go to Karate, and I'm glad I did, because both times I ran into Brittney Wong–who showed more human decency to me than you have in my entire life and took me to get treated for all those injuries you scoffed at me having and still grounded me."
He slipped his left hand into his pocket and gestured with his raised right palm from side to side. "All so I could go to the dance, which I did while you were out playing charade date night with Mom."
Jo held up her phone, showing a picture of a selfie she took with Drew, Roland, Sabrina, Janna, Chantal, Megan, and Brittney. Drew had his arms over both Janna and Sabrina's shoulders as all three beamed at the camera, Roland was tipping his hat with his cane and smirking while a grinning Megan hugged his side. Chantal and Jo were making cute pouty faces at the camera, while Brittney simply had an expression of being too glamorous for any picture even with remains of pie on her face.
It was such a good picture, being completely ruined by the news of Dipper breaking the news at what happened at Hillhurst some few minutes later.
"See?" Jo said. "Drew even danced with a cheerleader, it was so much fun."
Mr. McCormick stared at the image on the phone, his face fixed but his eyes giving away his confusion. He looked up at his son, who folded his arms and quietly dared him to say something passive-aggressive.
He did not disappoint. "Even with the picture, I find it hard to believe that's you."
"Yeah, well… that's really always been your problem." Drew said, before he began counting on his fingers. "If I get hurt; it's my fault. If I stand up for myself, I'm wrong. I fail at something, I'm not good enough. But if anything happens to go my way? You cannot believe it, or that's not right–like in your eyes I'm supposed to be a loser who's not allowed to have anything."
Drew let his hands drop to his side. "I have a great idea, Dad. How about you keep your passive-aggressive mind games to yourself, because I'm not afraid of them–or you–anymore. Just listen to your shitty Eagles and pretend you're the most normal guy in the world who needs to bully his own son to feel like he's achieved anything in life."
With that, he turned and headed upstairs. "Oh, and Don Henley and Glenn Frey would call you a loser if they ever met you!"
Jo watched her brother go, then looked at her parents. Her mother was ashen, her normally tired eyes wide with shock as she covered her mouth with her fingers.
Mr. McCormick, however, just sat frozen, watching Drew ascend the stairs. Jo could see it in his eyes. The irrational contempt, the indignity of being told off by someone he looked down on like he was an insect.
She hated that look so much, and she still didn't understand why he was like this.
If she could do it, she'd just walk up and swing at his face.
With all of her might.
"… Jo, go to your room," Mr. McCormick said flatly. "Don't be like that loser."
No, he wasn't worth it and never would be.
"Sure thing, Dad," she said as she headed up the stairs. "And he's right, you know."
Rather than bother to hear anything he had to say in reply–he thankfully didn't–Jo walked over to Drew's room and tapped on it. "Hey, it's me."
A few locks turned before the door opened. Drew was sitting on his bed, looking at his phone as she stepped in and closed it behind her.
"So…" She began. "… When are we ending this relationship?"
Drew looked up at her. "Honestly? We can do it anytime, now. Trip and Van are gone, and after dealing with Barla, and Jara? Why am I afraid of that piece of shit?"
"I'm surprised you haven't force-choked him out, yet."
"He is not worth any of that."
"Oh good, we're on the same page."
Drew looked at Sabrina's message again. "Dad's just a bitter jackass who's made my entire life about being lesser than him. If there's anything worse than your personality being 'having money' it's building it around your own son being your sworn enemy for life."
"Some Manga Gendo Ikari bullshit, just without our Mom being a giant robot."
"Or you being a weird clone of her I have conflicted feelings about."
"Ew."
Both laughed at the absurdity of their lives being anything like Evangelion, before Jo gestured to her brother. "Say the word, and I'll drop the hammer. And by the hammer I mean Nano. Dad will be gone and we'll probably find out why he's even got it out for you."
"Honestly? At this point I don't even care about the why. I really just want him gone like the 'Hoffs."
"Bet!" Jo said brightly. "You don't even worry about it, then. Just focus on dealing with the bad bitches and bad bitches causing you problems and leave the rest to me."
Drew chuckled. "Yeah, thanks." He looked down at his phone again, at Sabrina's awkward yet eager text asking him out. "I'm probably going to be busy this week, so I'll be happy to have another pain in my neck gone by the end of it."
"So we can focus on the real aches, right?" Jo went to open the door. "By the way… Sabrina or Janna?"
"… Between them and Heather, I don't know," Drew admitted truthfully. "I don't really know how to deal with girls."
"Don't look at me, I don't know how to deal with girls either and I'm pretty sure I'm one," Jo said.
"Well, I've always liked Heather; with Sabrina… I dunno, I don't think I've ever hung out with a girl who just likes me, and Janna…"
She fascinated him, as much as she got on his nerves.
Drew smiled. "I don't get Janna."
"Cryptids I do understand. Of course you don't get Janna. I don't think even Star or Mabel get Janna. I think the only person who actually knows Janna's whole deal is Jackie, and maybe Marco, since I know she would mess with him, too."
Drew remembered his conversation with Janna about Jackie the other day. "I got that feeling they were close."
"Close? My brother before The One Above All, for a while I thought those two were dating." Rather than give Drew a chance to entertain that mental image, she quickly jogged his attention
"If you want my dogshit observational opinion?" She continued. "I think Janna is a ball-buster specifically to deflect anyone away from actually getting close to her emotionally."
Drew knew that was something Jo did, and he was pretty sure she came to that conclusion first because of that.
Jo then shrugged her shoulders. "That, or she's just a tryhard who wants people to think she's this macabre wannabe witch. You know, like how Marco tries too hard being a bad boy."
That sounded more reasonable. Janna didn't come off as someone who wasn't confident in herself or had a life at home she wanted to hide.
"I guess," Drew said, "But I still don't understand what she meant by being generous."
"What else could she mean?" Jo asked, almost incredulous.
"You tell me, you're the smart one."
"Academically speaking, yes, and my ability to break things down mechanically… but have you seen the social disaster I've been the last couple of weeks? I was about to turn this into a group project."
Drew winced. "Fair enough."
"Me being the hammer… erhm… ugh." She stopped and sighed. "I'm not going to use hammer puns anymore." She stopped and restarted. "Me being the blunt bitch that I am, I suggest you inquire to Janna directly. Not on the phone, face-to-face with her and don't let her misdirect or sly-talk you. Figure out where you two stand, and if she's really implying that she wants to make you into Blue Beet for real."
Obviously Jo was harkening back to her complaints about Blue Beet in the comics being basically a western-written harem protagonist, but Drew was a comics nerd, he had to make a deeper cut. "I hope not, Blue Beet did literally die and had to be brought back to life."
"That was a good storyline, though," Jo pointed out.
"Oh, the best Art Fortunes ever written, hands down. I'm just not too keen on the dying part because the resurrection half of it is probably not possible."
Jo wholeheartedly agreed with that. "Well, just leave keeping you alive to me and Roland. Good night, broseph."
Drew chuckled. "Picking up on Mabel's thing?"
"What? It's cute," Jo snapped back before she left his room and let it swing closed.
Looking at the door with a small smirk, Drew used his telekinesis to secure the locks before he lay back and held his phone above his face with both hands to look at the screen.
Sabrina said:
Hello Andrew! I hope this text message sees you well. I wanted to tell you again that I had a very good time at the dance and I hope you did too!
I was hoping that since we had so much fun, that you would like to hang out again. We could go see a movie, grab some food, or even take a walk down Santa Monica Pier! Or all three! Actually, all three sounds really good, it could be an entire afternoon and it'll be super fun!
I'm sorry I'm rambling, but I'm super nervous, I've never asked a boy out on my own before. And you're like the coolest boy I've ever met. So anyway text me back! Thank you for taking the time to read!
For now, he decided he'd hang out with Sabrina. She was nice, and it wasn't complicated or inscrutable like Heather or Janna.
Drew said:
Hey Sabrina. I've been thinking a lot about the dance, too, and it was nice to hang out with you. I don't know when I'll next be free, but how about on Saturday we take that walk to Santa Monica Pier? I've always wanted to go to the Aquarium over there and walk along the beach.
He hadn't even set his phone down after sending that message, when he got an abrupt reply.
Sabrina said:
OMG YES!!! Okay! I'm going to ask Brittney if Dudley can give us a ride there! I can't wait to see you again!!!
Drew rested his phone on his chest and looked up at the ceiling.
"… Can't wait to see me again?"
If someone had told him a month ago that a Cheerleader would ask him to a dance and then want to go on a date with him after, he'd have called that person an insane idiot and wondered who was playing a prank on him. Even now, he was having a hard time believing it was really happening.
He wasn't, however, going to say it didn't feel amazing.
Star, Marco, and Dipper walked outside the Diaz home to find Brittney and Dudley standing outside of the former's G-Wagen. Brittney had her arms folded, like she'd been waiting for them to show up, while Dudley was standing straight, with an elegant and dignified air about him.
Marco almost didn't recognize the guy. "Wait, is that Dudley?"
"Good evening, Master Dipper, Master Marco, your Highness," he greeted. "Master Brittney would like to have a word with you."
It was Dudley, Marco was about to ask more about how he came to work for her, but Brittney derailed that with her inquiry. "So, I'm gonna cut to the chase: I think the McCormick kids and Roland are the Beetleborgs."
The three froze where they stood, surprised that she would just come out swinging with that. All three shared quick, wide-eyed looks.
Rather than take their reaction as validation, Brittney took the time to explain her reasoning. "Drew and Roland were in at the dance and Jo wasn't, but the Red Beetleborg showed up to fight that hammer idiot, and only after it was done, did Jo show up for the dance."
The three looked at each other again, then at Brittney.
"I also watched all the videos posted of the fight before that, over at the creek bridge. You guys were all gathered around and waiting for the Blue Beetleborg to come back from wherever he went… and when he got back, he seemed like he got roughed up. Then look who's going around like a freshly bruised mummy unwilling to explain how he got them besides 'I got roughed up by monsters?'"
The three looked at each other a third time, then at Brittney.
"I'm not here because I'm going to snitch or blow up your spot," she continued, "I'm here because I don't want any of my friends getting hurt because they don't know what they're getting into. And also, because I want to know how I can help."
Dipper… did not expect this. "Are you serious?"
"Dead serious," Brittney snapped back. "I'm not the two and three quarters bitches from before the dance. I want to move on to making sure me and mine are safe."
Marco looked at Star, but Star was now looking at Brittney with the biggest smile on her face. "Star, wait–"
Star turned to him. "No, no this is good. This is really good!"
She went over and took Brittney's hands, surprising her. "If we have Brittney on our side, that means we have effectively the power of THREE Princesses backing us up!"
"I don't know…" Marco was concerned about the number of people knowing getting bigger.
"Plus, Brittney has access to big tough dudes with guns and robots who can cover us!"
Brittney frowned. "Hold on, that Hench Co. thing was Daddy letting me use his account. I can't just do that."
Dipper asked. "But if you could do that, would you?"
Brittney nodded. "Pfft, duh! Of course! I'm already writing up a proposal to get them full-time as security for the school. I want to be able to graduate this year and not have classes be interrupted by monsters and supervillains."
Star turned right back to Dipper and Marco, both of whom still had suspicions. "I don't know…" Said the latter, "I mean, what brought this on?"
She sighed at her boyfriend's understandable reluctance, knowing he missed some context. "Marco, before you get weird about it? Brittney and I? We're cool."
She hugged Brittney for emphasis, and despite being unused to the affection–let alone it being from Star Butterfly–Brittney returned the hug.
"Like I said, the beef is squashed," the Queen Bee of the school declared. "And I want to help out because this involves me, I have a lot of money, and I want to invest in not being bothered by those Magnavore creeps."
That was shockingly pragmatic, not as shocking as Marco realizing that the end of conflict between Star and Brittney was actually real. "Okay, there is a lot flying at me tonight and I'm really tired from fighting monsters and not breaking a Karen's neck."
"Oh, me too!" Star pointed out. "I am about to crash."
Dipper, tired himself, nodded. "All right. We'll get you in touch with our representative then, and you can talk to her about how you can help us out. Just as long as you don't do stuff like you did last week and nearly get your face slapped off."
Brittney whipped her hair and sniffed arrogantly. "I would've taken his arm off if Miss Skullnick hadn't jumped in."
"Sure," Dipper and Marco said as one, while Star genuinely believed Brittney absolutely would've done it… somehow.
Satisfied with tonight's meeting, Brittney stepped back. "I'll leave you to get rest, then. I mean it when I say I want to help, and I'm willing to take orders on how to best do it so this nonsense will be over with sooner than later."
Marco had his doubts about such a commitment, but having people who could help honestly felt good. "All right, I believe you, and if Star and Dipper are cool with it then so am I."
"I am so cool with it!" Star said.
Dipper nodded. "Yeah, me too. Welcome to the coalition, I guess."
Brittney noted that none confirmed that the Beetleborgs were who she suspected, but she was fine with that. If they were okay with her helping them, she could wait a bit to find out for sure.
Still, she had one more question to ask before she got in her G-Wagen. "One more thing."
Star rejoined Marco's side. "What's up?"
Brittney pointed between the two of them. "Are you two dating?"
"Nope!" Both of them said in unison. Dipper was impressed at the speed they answered, even as he was reminded of this unfortunate turn of events for himself.
The young woman rolled her eyes. "Ugh, I get it; you don't want people knowing if you're mashing faces, but believe me? Everybody already thinks you are–StarFan13 ships you for Pete's sake. So, cough it up, I won't tell anyone if you are, and tell everyone that you aren't."
Sharing one more look, and with a consenting nod from Marco, Star answered her. "Okay, we've just started dating, and we're kind of too busy to be up front about it."
Marco nodded. "Yeah, let people think what they want to think, and otherwise mind their own business."
Brittney could respect that. "Okay, that's all I wanted to know."
Though, now she was curious about how Jackie Lynn Thomas factored into their whole dynamic. Her gaze lingering on Marco before she turned away, she decided it wasn't her business.
Dudley nodded and tipped his hat to the three teens, before letting Brittney into her car and going to the driver's seat. The G-Wagen then pulled a U-turn and drove off down the road to its destination in Upper Echo Creek.
"I'm… not used to Brittney talking directly to me and not throwing an insult in there somewhere," Marco admitted.
"If you want, you can imagine she was insulting you," Star suggested.
Marco laughed. "No, no… I'm going to roll with this one. Besides, after dealing with those cops? It's nice to know that there are people on our side who aren't just our friends and family."
Star smiled. "Yeah, it is."
"So, uh…" Dipper began, drawing their attention, as he rubbed the back of his neck. "… Before I leave, can I just say something, myself?"
"Sure, what's up?" Marco asked.
"You're not going to veto Brittney joining up, are you?" Star asked.
"No, not that… this is a personal thing, and I think I should get it off my chest and out of the way before we start getting into drama on top of fighting." Dipper said. "Back when we first met, I was… kinda into you?"
Star froze where she stood, and she looked from Dipper and back at Marco–whom Dipper was speaking to.
Oh no, he chooses now to just drop it on him? She thought in alarm.
Marco stared at Dipper, blinking slowly. "… Wh… huh?"
"And… I'm not saying this as a confession thing, or some vain hope that you'll be into me, too…" He stopped himself from trying to ramble on. "I'm just putting it out there so we're all on the same page and it doesn't get weird."
Marco processed that for a second. "… Ohh… You liked the Princess Marco look, right?"
Dipper nodded. "Well, yeah." Before Marco could reassure Dipper that he wasn't the first guy to be tripped up by his Princess form, he continued. "But I also liked what I saw after you changed back."
"Yeah, well you're not the–" Mouth open and hand raised for the aforementioned reassurance, Marco paused, and then his face colored slightly. "… Oh."
"Sorry, for springing this on you, man. I just wanted to get it out of the way, like I said…"
Marco held up his hands, his reassurance now stronger than ever. "What? Don't be sorry! I'm just surprised, I never thought a guy would just come out and say he liked me liked me."
Honestly it was both validating and relieving, especially after finding out that Trip had been into his feminine persona. Funny as that was. People with taste besides Star thought he was hot, and he could live with that. Enjoy it even.
Dipper was relieved that it didn't get weird, and he hoped it wouldn't get weird later. Between fighting the Magnavores and working with Star and the Magic Instruction Book, he had a feeling he'd be close to Star and Marco going forward a lot more.
"Anyway, I'm going to get home. You guys take care, all right? Don't stay up too late," he said.
"I wasn't kidding about wanting to crash," Marco promised. "Later, Dipper."
Star was likewise happy that nothing melted down or even came close to a runaway reaction. "I'll make sure Marco gets his beauty sleep! As long as you get yours, Dipper!"
Waving, Dipper headed up the street towards Shermie's home, and both Star and Marco turned towards their house.
"Dipper has a crush on me," Marco said.
"Yep," Star said.
He looked at her. "Did you know?"
"I'm pretty sure everyone else knows."
Marco stopped at the door. "How did I not notice?"
"A general combination of you being extremely focused on first Jackie Lynn Thomas and then me, combined with all the schooling, teaching, and fighting you do on top of being already awesome."
Marco laughed a moment after that. "And here I thought I was the PHD."
Star then placed her hands on his shoulders. "But Marco, the important thing is… how do you feel about this?"
How considerate of her to ask him. "I mean… Dipper's a tall handsome guy, but I have a girlfriend. That girlfriend is you."
Marco stopped. "Wait, are you looking at this like a yao–"
"Whoa! No! Nonononono–!" Star insisted. "Marco, I just don't want there to be drama. If Dipper likes you, he likes you! If you like Dipper, you like Dipper!"
Marco tried to get a word in edgewise, but then Star hit him with a curveball he didn't see coming. "Same with Jackie Lynn Thomas! If you like her, you like her! I won't mind because Dipper and Jackie are people I like, too! And I like seeing all the people I like hanging out and being happy with people I like! Which is you, who I like, a bunch!"
Immediately, Marco recalled the interaction from the night before, after Misao was rescued and everyone was discussing their shipping being wrecked on the awful rocks of reality. Specifically, he zeroed in on what Jackie had said that had been at the back of his mind since.
"… OT3?"
He had just said he was exhausted, but the implications of what he just learned were going to keep him up for at least half the night, now.
At least if he didn't confirm it. "… Star, I'm going to ask you this very slowly, and you are going to answer me slowly, so you have as much time to think about your answer as I do."
Star nodded, perceptibly slow. "Okay," she said, matching his verbal cadence.
He reached up and placed his hands on her shoulders. "Are you saying, in all confidence, that it's okay if I want to date Jackie Lynn Thomas and/or Dipper, even while I'm dating you. Like… an open relationship or polyamory thing?"
Star answered, with powerful slowness. "I do not know what polyamory means, but I do know that I am okay with you dating Jackie Lynn Thomas and Dipper, and me… because I would like to date Jackie Lynn Thomas and Dipper and you, too."
Suddenly Marco looked around, like he was scanning for hidden enemies or the paparazzi about to ambush.
"What's wrong?" Star asked, with the same slowness.
"You don't have to do that anymore," Marco assured her. "I'm just making sure Janna's not hiding somewhere and this is a bit."
"It's not a bit, I swear," Star said. "I am down for the OT3.. or OT4, I mean… it's up to you what you want to do. Jackie and Mabel both say that communication and being on the same page is important in this kind of thing."
Marco thought he'd be able to sleep on this, but now he knew he definitely was not going to. "Are… are you sure?"
Star pulled Marco in and hugged him. "Of course I'm sure, Marco. The bad guys are getting stronger, there are other people messing with us, and all I want is for my friends to be happy. All my friends, and the guy I am totally in love with."
As Star continued, Marco slowly brought his arms up and returned the hug.
"If we're all fighting for each other as much as we are alongside each other, then nobody can beat us. Ever."
Beneath a highway bridge crossing the Los Angeles river, just off a bike path that ran underneath it, TC sat on the edge of the river, beside the torn apart remains of a human body. In his right hand, he held a strip of skin and connected flesh, blood dripping from it, while in his free hand he held his phone, watching video of the battle at Britta's Tacos. He frowned when he happened to catch sight of himself incidentally fleeing during the fight captured by a news camera.
"Guess I'm not going back to Echo Creek anymore," he mused aloud. "For the best, Brittney didn't give off the vibe I was hoping for. Those Vanderhoff boys fell off the face of the Earth, too, so… no safe harbor."
He took a big bite out of the strip of flesh. "Maybe there's somewhere in the Palisades I can chill. I can't be sneaking around like this anymore. I am too rich for this shit."
CLACK
Alarmed, TC turned and looked with wide eyes down the edge of the river. Gabe stood there, with his shirasaya held in front of him, driven so hard into the concrete shore that it was cracked and split beneath it. In the dark, he couldn't see his face, but the way his face gripped the shaft of the shirasaya in his right hand, while his left hand pulled the hilt of his sword out of the lacquered wooden sheath.
"Too rich?" Gabe greeted him calmly as he pulled the sword. "Ain't nobody too rich for an ass-beating, fuck nigga."
TC tossed aside his meal and stood up, blood dripping from his hand as he closed his phone screen and put it away. "How the fuck did you find me?"
"I'm more embarrassed that I didn't find you sooner," Gabe admitted.
Drawing his sword fully, he held it out at his side as he walked towards TC, using the sheath like a walking stick. "You really out here killing people in broad daylight, and tryna hide out in Echo Creek. Not only is you sloppy, you're dumb, too."
TC narrowed his eyes, practically bristling at the remark. "Can't fault a nigga for being hungry."
"You ain't allowed to say that shit," Gabe shot back. "Now turn the fuck up or get cut the fuck up–I don't mind either way."
Baring his teeth, TC lowered his posture as his violet eyes took on an unearthly glow. "Oh, my pass is revoked, too? Guess I'm switchin' to the hard R, then. I don't need to be smart or clean, Goblin. I got luck on my side, and I know I'm stronger than you."
Gabe stopped, and his neutral expression finally shifted into an unamused scowl. "Nah, you ain't getting away this time."
With that he shot towards TC at high speed, pulling back his sword to swing down, as the hoodie-wearing young man's lips split into a blood-thirsty grin, and he leaped at him in turn.
Legends: A Story of Lies Volume 9 will be here in the Spring... I hope.
= - = 8-EX = - =
|Resolution|
|Resolution|
Within the crypt hideout of the Magnavores, Barla emerged in a burst of black flame, walking up to Vexor as he read through the biography of Art Fortunes. Turning, he lowered the book and gestured to her with his unoccupied hand in a palm up, polite greeting.
"Dragonslayer Barla, it is good to see you returned alive; I sensed tremendous power during your battle, to the point it interfered with my scrying."
Barla nodded. "The battle was intense, more than I was told to expect."
Vexor found that curious. "Oh?"
"I've been told that these were children playing games, that when faced with a strong opponent, their resolve would shatter, and they would be exposed as the naïve fools Jara claimed they were."
Vexor detected how Barla's tone dipped and how she spat out Jara's name, when they had been so close at their reunion. However, he focused on Barla's observation. "I see."
"When we fought, however, they held their ground. No, when they saw the difference between us, they only attacked with greater intensity, determined to keep hitting me until something broke." She stopped and shook her head. "Even after all their efforts to harm me failed and I told them to surrender, they did not care and offered to continue fighting."
Barla looked at her scuffed and scorched armored gauntlets. "That is not the mindset of children pretending, that is a warrior's commitment to stand and fight, something that is supposed to be respected."
Vexor weighed on Barla's report. Despite the tremendous power he mentioned before… the battle was inconclusive. Indeed, Barla's armor bore the brunt of their ferocity. These were ominous signs regarding the success of this operation.
There was a greater concern, however. "Is everything well between you and Jara despite this error on her part?"
"No, and in the future, I will not associate with Jara directly. I will take orders from you, but not her. Nor will I join her on the battlefield unless otherwise commanded."
It was as Vexor worried. "What has brought this on?"
"Jara has demonstrated leadership, strategic, and combat ability not meeting the standards she had set out for her own Mercenary Army. For that, I have deemed her unfit as a warrior and leader and will disregard her as such."
A complication, and one that Vexor did not particularly care for. In less than half a day, the two mercenaries had gone from joyously reunited comrades to being on no speaking terms whatsoever. To say it could be a liability in future operations was an understatement. If their enemies learned of this discord, it would be a disaster.
He did not want to resort to this, but he had no choice.
"May I suggest, Barla," he began, "That you set aside this enmity towards Jara."
Barla did a double take. "Excuse me?"
"Since we arrived in this world, I have observed that Jara has not been herself in battle. Something has shaken her since our campaign started, and I fear that the death of Saberizer has deepened this trauma."
The Dragonslayer stared at Vexor in profound confusion, not expecting that explanation of Jara from him of all people. "… Ah… I see."
Vexor gestured to her. "In summoning you, it had been my hope that her morale would be boosted, and she would return to form. However, I see that has not happened."
He turned away from her, walking towards his sarcophagus. "Going forward, I suggest that the two of you discuss your differences in my presence, so that I may mediate and moderate your disagreement, and that you both may come to a resolution that does not interfere with or otherwise derail our campaign."
Reaching the end of the massive stone container, Vexor turned back to Barla and noted the strange look she was giving him. "Is something the matter?"
"No, it's not," Barla said. "As a matter of fact, what you've suggested is well-reasoned and sensible. I just wasn't expecting it from Vexor Gaohm."
"Oh?"
"From what I've understand, you're an insane egotist who thinks himself superior to both brothers of the Melzard Tribe and Bill Cipher."
Vexor chuckled. "That being true does not make me an insane egotist, Barla."
There it was. "How do you figure yourself superior to The Lord of Nightmares, The Abyssal King, and The One-Eyed Beast?"
Vexor gestured outward with both hands. "For all their power, the brothers of Melzard bicker like children, and that pointless, perpetual spat leaves them easy prey to the likes of Bill Cipher, who himself claimed to be all-powerful and brilliant in his insanity–but was little more than a trickster punching down upon lower beings. In every story I've heard of him, his undoings were against minds only slightly cleverer than the common ape."
"What you said about the Melzard isn't untrue," Barla admitted, "And honestly I've packed up enough of Bill's Henchmaniacs to see that in his absence they are more pitiful and non-threatening than he advertised them as."
She gestured to him. "Still, you'd never defeat any of them if you came to blows."
Vexor chuckled. "That goes without saying. However, through avoiding such blows, clarity of vision, and excellent fortune through the folly of our foes… I never have to."
He lifted his right hand aloft. "We are no longer prisoners of the perpetual entropic hell that is the Nightmare Realm. We can claim this reality for ourselves, and with time we can take any other reality we please while those fools we left behind burn in their prison."
With a sweep of his right arm, he gestured in the direction of Hillhurst. "Dealing with our enemies here is no different. Choosing how we engage them, disengaging as we see fit, manipulating the situation so we do not have to engage them. That is how the Magnavores will conquer this world, and then the stars, and then every corner of existence. That is why your assessment of them after this battle is so important and why resolving whatever conflict you have with Jara is even more so."
Barla was sold. More than convinced, she was impressed by Vexor. Of course he would have such an ego. Not only has his small group survived in the Nightmare Realm… they had gotten out.
"I see," she said softly, before she spoke louder. "Thank you, Vexor, for your criticism and advice. As… difficult as it is for me to bear it, I will speak to Jara and arrange that we settle things before you."
Vexor brought his hands together, grateful. "Ah, thank you, Barla. We can ill-afford any in-fighting. Fortunately, the next phases of our operation are in the hands of Typhus and Noxic, so you will have time to approach your friend."
Barla nodded. "Very well, I shall."
With that, Barla disappeared again in a jet of black flame. Alone in the crypt once more, Vexor folded his hands over his abdomen, as he began to pace around the sarcophagus, calculating a change to the strategy he set forth. One thing was for certain, he realized.
"I must be more hands on in my management of these four," he stated to himself.
@@@@@
It was well after nine in the evening at the Diaz Household, and most everyone else had gone home after the hearty meal to celebrate Marco's safe return. Only Dipper stayed behind, sitting on the edge of Star's bed as Marco–extra tired from the long and climactic day–lay on the bed directly beside him.
Star was in her closet, moving things around inside the strangely large room looking for the Magic Instruction Book.
Dipper huffed in amusement, trying to distract himself from the fact he was sitting so close to him. "How hard can a giant book be to find?"
"You want to go in there and help her? Be my guest." Marco cast a dark look towards the closet, remembering the last time he was in there. "I'm not setting foot in that heap again without my own Beetleborg armor."
"That bad, huh? Sounds like Mabel's closet."
Marco sat up, concerned. "Wait, is having messy closets just a thing that girls do?"
Dipper shrugged his shoulders. "I don't think we can put Mabel or Star in the same category as other girls."
There was a loud rumble and thump, before Star let out a grunt in frustration. "Ugh, it was on my bed when we left earlier. Glossaryk, did you move the book in here?"
Almost immediately, a voice replied from under the bed. "Well, I'm not going to just let it sit around in the open. While I don't mind Janna having a look, that Jo girl has an evil glint in her eye."
Dipper and Marco both looked down at the floor just off the edge of the bed, as another, larger rumble filled the room. A large, dromaeosaurid dinosaur leaped out of the closet, Star perched upon its back and gripping its reins. She was dressed like she was auditioning for a spot in a Predator remake.
Both boys jumped back onto the bed, Dipper instinctively putting his arms out to shield Marco behind him, as Star leaped off the dinosaur and then slapped its flank.
"Go back inside, Sprinkles Refreshing," She commanded. With a loud coo, like a pigeon with the deepest possible voice, the dinosaur stalked back into the closet and the door shut behind it.
Star laid down on the floor to look under the bed, then reached under. "Well, then you can come out now…" She pulled back, the leather strap that bound the book gripped in her hand. "… Because we need to talk!"
She dragged the massive Magic Instruction Book out from under the bed like she was pulling a tire through a roadside drainage pipe to unclog it.
Emerging like said tire, the Magic Instruction book opened with a thud to reveal two pages: The first featuring snakes in varying shades of purple zigzagging across the page, and the second bearing a bleached white skull with glowing blue chains extending to the corners of the page–as though to lock the contents beyond it. And from the very center of the book itself, Sir Glossaryck of Terms emerged from a circle of blue light, floating with his legs folded beneath him and his arms tucked into the sleeves of his shirt in front of him.
Dipper's attention darted sharply from the locked page to Glossaryck, who was facing Star.
"Also, you didn't even offer me any food," he continued grieving over why he hid. "Maybe Glossaryck wanted some pizza and chicken wings, did it ever occur to you to ask?"
Staring back at him, Star slowly shook her head. "Not really, no."
Marco hit upon an idea, but kept it to himself, as Star pointed at Dipper. "But I did bring Dipper!"
Glossaryck turned around, the book's pages flipping towards the front and concealing the pages he emerged from, to face the indicated young man. "Oh, you… did?"
The little blue creature stopped and stared at the younger Pines Twin, an expression that a human could mistake for surprise appearing on his features before he floated up to and began circling around him as if examining a statue. "… Hmm…"
"Uhh… hi?" Dipper asked as he followed Glossaryck's path around him.
Glossaryck didn't respond, instead humming in interest as he came around in front of him. "… Curious."
He floated up to Dipper's face, and pushed up his curly bangs, revealing the Big Dipper-shaped birthmark on his forehead. "… Fascinating!"
Dipper's eyes narrowed slightly in annoyance. "Do you mind?"
Glossaryck pulled back and inserted his right hand into his left arm's sleeve. "You really are the Pine Tree; then Bill Cipher is truly dead."
"I hope so," Dipper said. "And don't call me 'Pine Tree' or 'The Pine Tree' or 'Conifer' or any nickname like that."
The strange creature nodded. "All right, Mason it is!"
"DIPPER," he corrected sharply.
Marco looked at Dipper. "Wait, your name's really Mason?"
"Do not call me that," Dipper said. "The only names I will answer to are Dipper or Tyrone."
Marco wasn't sure about that one. "I don't know if this is racist, but you do not look like a Tyrone to me."
"It is, and he doesn't," Glossaryck said.
This was getting off to a great start, said no one. In fact, everyone in the room with comprehensible minds thought the opposite as Star intervened. "Glossaryck! I said we needed to talk!"
"Right, of course," Glossaryck said. "But it's late, and I wasn't offered any pizza…"
Marco knew he'd go for it, and countered Glossaryck's childishness. "We have some leftovers, and it's still a bit above room temperature."
That changed Glossaryck's tune completely. "Do you, now? That's when it is the best for eating."
Dipper had to hand it to Marco as he continued bargaining with Glossaryck. "And you'll get all of it when you tell us everything we need to know without any riddles or cryptic wordplay."
"Yeah, no metaphors, either," Star said.
Glossaryck gave them all a disappointed look. "You're really taking the fun out of this."
"Well, it's the fate of the world," Star argued. "Maybe two!"
The tiny blue man's expression brightened at that. "Well, when you put it with such actual concern, how can I disagree? What would you like to know?"
Dipper was the one who asked. "You've been around for a long time; did you know a Dr. Hillhurst?"
Glossaryck went unusually still as he hovered in the air–like a figurine locked in time and space where he floated. The only thing changing was his face, his eyes widening as old memories resurfaced behind his diamond-shaped pupils.
"Huh, that is a name I have not heard in a long time," he said with the interest of a wizened sage being reminded of an old life. "Dr. Aloysius Hillhurst?"
"Yeah."
Glossaryck appeared to understand, and his next words confirmed it. "His house is still there, isn't it? And you found something in it you need my help to open."
The three teens all shared surprised looks.
"Can you?" Star asked.
Glossaryck shook his head. "Nope."
Marco jumped on that. "Are you able to?"
"Nope," Glossaryck repeated.
"Why?" Dipper asked.
"Because it's not my place to, and as it's not my place, it is not something I can open," Glossaryck explained. "Magic is funny like that. What I can tell you, is that you've probably primed two of the locks… you just need the third key:"
He waved his hands like someone exaggerating a mystical artifact. "The Warden's Ring."
Now they had even more questions. "And what's that?"
Glossaryck made good on his promise of straight answers. "It's a ring of great magical power, bestowed once upon a time to a group of powerful warriors called–well–Wardens."
Star asked. "Like… Jail Warden?"
"Warden is a funny word with multiple meanings, but in this case, it means protector," Glossaryck explained. "The Wardens were once guardians of Magic, serving to protect all dimensions from The Forces of Evil."
"Like Mina Loveberry, the Solarian Warrior!" Star said excitedly.
Glossaryck's expression shifted to one of mild distaste at the mention of that name–if only for an instant–as he confirmed Star's suggestion. "Erm… yes, like her."
Something that made this little weirdo uncomfortable? Marco was curious. "Who's Mina?"
"Oh, just Mewni's greatest warrior. She's basically our Kim Possible," Star explained.
Marco stopped. "Why haven't we called on her?"
"Because she'd tell my Mom," Star explained, "And that would be that."
Glossaryck agreed. "There are other reasons to not want to deal with Mina, but we'll go with that as the most pertinent one."
Expecting more details later, Dipper stayed on topic. "So, what happened to the Wardens?"
"Most of them are gone now," Glossaryck said. "The Warden of this dimension is one of the last. If not the very last one."
"What happened to them?" Dipper asked.
"It varied. Some simply lost their lives in the line of duty, grew old and passed on, or fought in a big civil war to try to conquer the multiverse and wiped themselves out. What I know for certain is that there's hardly any left. The last Warden I knew was a friend of Dr. Hillhurst, who took it upon herself to be the protector of this dimension."
There sounded like a lot was going on back in Dr. Hillhurst's day. "How much do you know about what happened with Dr. Hillhurst?"
"Yeah, why is there a shrine that only reacts to Star and I?" Marco asked.
"Not a terribly great deal. I only met Dr. Hillhurst briefly," Glossaryck said as he looked from Marco to Star, "As your Great-Great Grandmother Celena did not rely on me as much as other bearers of the wand."
"Great-Great Grandma Celena came to Earth before?" Star asked, surprised.
Glossaryck nodded. "Of course. This dimension has a long history with Mewni. Celena visited here, your Grandfather on your mother's side is from here–"
"WAIT, WHAT?!" Star shouted.
"Your mother didn't tell you?" Glossaryck asked, before he realized the pointlessness of bothering. "Oh, who am I kidding? With how she foisted you on your father and Royal Guard and only steps in to discipline you, it's no wonder you barely know anything about her."
"My mother didn't…" Pausing, Star took a moment to reflect. "… Okay, yeah, she did do that. A lot."
Marco and Dipper shared awkward looks as the conversation took a turn despite their best efforts.
Star, prescient of this, valiantly stopped making this about her. "Anyway! You don't know why Great-Great Grandma came here, right? Did you find out… at all?"
Glossaryck shrugged his shoulders. "Honestly, it wasn't something she talked about at all, to anyone. Not that she talked about much of anything, there's a reason she's called Celena The Shy."
"So how do we find this Warden?" Marco asked. "If this all happened that long ago, then she's probably as long gone as Celena."
Glossaryck stroked his beard.. "That's true. Given how the Warden Ring survived through the ages into the last century, however, I don't doubt that she passed it on to a descendant."
"How do we find her descendants, then?"
The tiny creature chuckled. "Oh that one's easy: just look for the strongest person around dressed in pink, and you've found this world's Warden."
"Pink?" The three said in unison again, before Marco's eyes shot wide in recognition.
"… There's no way," he said suddenly, in awe and a little fear of the coincidences he's encountered today.
"Who…?" Dipper asked.
Marco looked at Glossaryck, then at Dipper and Star. "I think he's talking about SheZow."
A moment of silence passed, before Dipper asked. "… The same SheZow who got run out of her hometown on a rail and has not appeared since?"
Another moment of silence passed, before Marco palmed his face with both hands. "Of course…"
Star rested a hand on Marco's shoulder. "Don't worry, Marco! I'm sure we can find SheZow, and who knows… maybe we can get her to help us against the Magnavores!"
Dipper agreed. "She's right. After everything that happened to her, I think SheZow would love to have a comeback."
Surprisingly, Glossaryck was on the same page. "I wouldn't mind meeting a Warden after everything that was said and done with them."
"Then we have another thing to ask Elise about," Dipper said. "I feel like getting the armoire open will answer a lot of questions about Hillhurst Mansion, Flabber, and the monsters."
Glossaryck perked up. "Ooh, I'd like to meet them, too. You wouldn't mind introducing me some time, would you, Star?"
"Not at all," Star said.
"We'll probably need to bring the book over to the house anyway," Dipper said. "Something this useful should stay in the Beete Battle Base"
That was a good point. Before further plans could be made, there was a knock at the door. When all looked over, Angie opened it and peeked inside.
"Marco, Star, there's someone outside who wants to see you, one of your classmates," she revealed.
Marco turned to her. "Huh, which one?"
"Brittney," Angie revealed.
The three teens all looked at each other, and then at the time. What could Brittney Wong want at this time of night?
@@@@@
With the help of the Dimensional Scissors, Drew and Jo stepped into the small backyard of their home, fenced off and out of view from their cul-de-sac neighbors in their almost identical and prefabricated clay shingle-roofed homes. Looking at one another, they nodded and crept around the side of the house and reached the open garage door containing their family's vehicles.
"There's no way Dad's not up," Jo said. "He's going to give you shit."
Drew shrugged his shoulders, as they went to the door leading to the kitchen. "I mean, yeah? School got cut early, and we've basically been no show all day. What else is he going to do but bitch at me?"
Jo couldn't help her snicker at Drew's harsh attitude. She was even more amused when Drew simply stepped into the kitchen rather than attempt a discreet entrance. He strode ahead of her, headed into the living room.
Mr. and Mrs. McCormick were both waiting, turning to look at Drew simultaneously as he came into the living room. Mr. McCormick, his expression droll and unimpressed as always at first, grew genuinely surprised when he saw his son's bandage-free and unblemished face. Mrs. McCormick, her own usually down-cast if not neutral look lit with genuine concern, moved to rise from her seat, but then stopped in confusion when she saw Drew's face and the general lack of concern in both her children.
"Andrew…?" She began, before Mr. McCormick raised his hand up off the armrest of his chair in a calm, halting gesture. Pausing, she quietly yielded to him as she retired back to her chair but stayed on the edge of it.
Drew and Jo's gazes lingered on her as they turned to their father, who did not bother to rise and was schooling his expression as he adjusted his glasses with two fingers. His gaze was locked on Drew, looking at him in the same way one would look at a crack they had just discovered in their car's windshield after an already bad day.
"Where have you two been? Why did you not come straight home after school?"
"We were hanging out with Roland," Drew said, before Jo could.
"At Zoom?" Mr. McCormick asked, sounding like he'd take that affirmative and then call Nano for the security tapes to be sure.
"No, we were practicing karate all day," Drew explained.
Sensei Brantley didn't have cameras in his dojo.
Mr. McCormick found that unusual. "Since when do you practice karate?"
Jo stepped in. "Since a couple weeks ago, Dad. We practice over at the Hill-Trank Plaza like three times a week."
Their father narrowed his eyes in suspicion. "Aren't you two a little old for karate kicks?"
"You're never too old to start," Jo argued. "Plus, it's something for us to do beside read comics all day. That's something you've been on us about, right?"
On Drew about, but Jo was in something of a fighting mood and throwing some shit back in a hater's face.
Expressing his doubts, and wanting to focus on his son, Mr. McCormick let out a dismissive hum before gesturing at Drew's face. "What happened to your bruises, and the bandages?"
Bringing a hand to his cheek, Drew blinked owlishly before he shrugged his shoulders with the same dismissive energy. "Oh, I guess I got better."
"Better, huh?" Mr. McCormick scrutinized Drew's face before looking him up and down. "No… I think you lied about getting beaten up. To try to get sympathy to go to your dance."
Drew lowered his hand from his face. "Uh-huh, and since when could I expect sympathy from you?"
Silence fell on the McCormick household's living room following that. Mrs. McCormick drew back slightly, her eyes widening slightly with apprehension as Jo looked up at her brother, impressed.
Drew stared his Dad down, feeling the same intense defiance that he faced Barla with earlier. "Full disclosure, Dad. On Friday and Saturday I snuck out of this house under your nose to attend the homecoming game and to go to Karate, and I'm glad I did, because both times I ran into Brittney Wong–who showed more human decency to me than you have in my entire life and took me to get treated for all those injuries you scoffed at me having and still grounded me."
He slipped his left hand into his pocket and gestured with his raised right palm from side to side. "All so I could go to the dance, which I did while you were out playing charade date night with Mom."
Jo held up her phone, showing a picture of a selfie she took with Drew, Roland, Sabrina, Janna, Chantal, Megan, and Brittney. Drew had his arms over both Janna and Sabrina's shoulders as all three beamed at the camera, Roland was tipping his hat with his cane and smirking while a grinning Megan hugged his side. Chantal and Jo were making cute pouty faces at the camera, while Brittney simply had an expression of being too glamorous for any picture even with remains of pie on her face.
It was such a good picture, being completely ruined by the news of Dipper breaking the news at what happened at Hillhurst some few minutes later.
"See?" Jo said. "Drew even danced with a cheerleader, it was so much fun."
Mr. McCormick stared at the image on the phone, his face fixed but his eyes giving away his confusion. He looked up at his son, who folded his arms and quietly dared him to say something passive-aggressive.
He did not disappoint. "Even with the picture, I find it hard to believe that's you."
"Yeah, well… that's really always been your problem." Drew said, before he began counting on his fingers. "If I get hurt; it's my fault. If I stand up for myself, I'm wrong. I fail at something, I'm not good enough. But if anything happens to go my way? You cannot believe it, or that's not right–like in your eyes I'm supposed to be a loser who's not allowed to have anything."
Drew let his hands drop to his side. "I have a great idea, Dad. How about you keep your passive-aggressive mind games to yourself, because I'm not afraid of them–or you–anymore. Just listen to your shitty Eagles and pretend you're the most normal guy in the world who needs to bully his own son to feel like he's achieved anything in life."
With that, he turned and headed upstairs. "Oh, and Don Henley and Glenn Frey would call you a loser if they ever met you!"
Jo watched her brother go, then looked at her parents. Her mother was ashen, her normally tired eyes wide with shock as she covered her mouth with her fingers.
Mr. McCormick, however, just sat frozen, watching Drew ascend the stairs. Jo could see it in his eyes. The irrational contempt, the indignity of being told off by someone he looked down on like he was an insect.
She hated that look so much, and she still didn't understand why he was like this.
If she could do it, she'd just walk up and swing at his face.
With all of her might.
"… Jo, go to your room," Mr. McCormick said flatly. "Don't be like that loser."
No, he wasn't worth it and never would be.
"Sure thing, Dad," she said as she headed up the stairs. "And he's right, you know."
Rather than bother to hear anything he had to say in reply–he thankfully didn't–Jo walked over to Drew's room and tapped on it. "Hey, it's me."
A few locks turned before the door opened. Drew was sitting on his bed, looking at his phone as she stepped in and closed it behind her.
"So…" She began. "… When are we ending this relationship?"
Drew looked up at her. "Honestly? We can do it anytime, now. Trip and Van are gone, and after dealing with Barla, and Jara? Why am I afraid of that piece of shit?"
"I'm surprised you haven't force-choked him out, yet."
"He is not worth any of that."
"Oh good, we're on the same page."
Drew looked at Sabrina's message again. "Dad's just a bitter jackass who's made my entire life about being lesser than him. If there's anything worse than your personality being 'having money' it's building it around your own son being your sworn enemy for life."
"Some Manga Gendo Ikari bullshit, just without our Mom being a giant robot."
"Or you being a weird clone of her I have conflicted feelings about."
"Ew."
Both laughed at the absurdity of their lives being anything like Evangelion, before Jo gestured to her brother. "Say the word, and I'll drop the hammer. And by the hammer I mean Nano. Dad will be gone and we'll probably find out why he's even got it out for you."
"Honestly? At this point I don't even care about the why. I really just want him gone like the 'Hoffs."
"Bet!" Jo said brightly. "You don't even worry about it, then. Just focus on dealing with the bad bitches and bad bitches causing you problems and leave the rest to me."
Drew chuckled. "Yeah, thanks." He looked down at his phone again, at Sabrina's awkward yet eager text asking him out. "I'm probably going to be busy this week, so I'll be happy to have another pain in my neck gone by the end of it."
"So we can focus on the real aches, right?" Jo went to open the door. "By the way… Sabrina or Janna?"
"… Between them and Heather, I don't know," Drew admitted truthfully. "I don't really know how to deal with girls."
"Don't look at me, I don't know how to deal with girls either and I'm pretty sure I'm one," Jo said.
"Well, I've always liked Heather; with Sabrina… I dunno, I don't think I've ever hung out with a girl who just likes me, and Janna…"
She fascinated him, as much as she got on his nerves.
Drew smiled. "I don't get Janna."
"Cryptids I do understand. Of course you don't get Janna. I don't think even Star or Mabel get Janna. I think the only person who actually knows Janna's whole deal is Jackie, and maybe Marco, since I know she would mess with him, too."
Drew remembered his conversation with Janna about Jackie the other day. "I got that feeling they were close."
"Close? My brother before The One Above All, for a while I thought those two were dating." Rather than give Drew a chance to entertain that mental image, she quickly jogged his attention
"If you want my dogshit observational opinion?" She continued. "I think Janna is a ball-buster specifically to deflect anyone away from actually getting close to her emotionally."
Drew knew that was something Jo did, and he was pretty sure she came to that conclusion first because of that.
Jo then shrugged her shoulders. "That, or she's just a tryhard who wants people to think she's this macabre wannabe witch. You know, like how Marco tries too hard being a bad boy."
That sounded more reasonable. Janna didn't come off as someone who wasn't confident in herself or had a life at home she wanted to hide.
"I guess," Drew said, "But I still don't understand what she meant by being generous."
"What else could she mean?" Jo asked, almost incredulous.
"You tell me, you're the smart one."
"Academically speaking, yes, and my ability to break things down mechanically… but have you seen the social disaster I've been the last couple of weeks? I was about to turn this into a group project."
Drew winced. "Fair enough."
"Me being the hammer… erhm… ugh." She stopped and sighed. "I'm not going to use hammer puns anymore." She stopped and restarted. "Me being the blunt bitch that I am, I suggest you inquire to Janna directly. Not on the phone, face-to-face with her and don't let her misdirect or sly-talk you. Figure out where you two stand, and if she's really implying that she wants to make you into Blue Beet for real."
Obviously Jo was harkening back to her complaints about Blue Beet in the comics being basically a western-written harem protagonist, but Drew was a comics nerd, he had to make a deeper cut. "I hope not, Blue Beet did literally die and had to be brought back to life."
"That was a good storyline, though," Jo pointed out.
"Oh, the best Art Fortunes ever written, hands down. I'm just not too keen on the dying part because the resurrection half of it is probably not possible."
Jo wholeheartedly agreed with that. "Well, just leave keeping you alive to me and Roland. Good night, broseph."
Drew chuckled. "Picking up on Mabel's thing?"
"What? It's cute," Jo snapped back before she left his room and let it swing closed.
Looking at the door with a small smirk, Drew used his telekinesis to secure the locks before he lay back and held his phone above his face with both hands to look at the screen.
Sabrina said:
Hello Andrew! I hope this text message sees you well. I wanted to tell you again that I had a very good time at the dance and I hope you did too!
I was hoping that since we had so much fun, that you would like to hang out again. We could go see a movie, grab some food, or even take a walk down Santa Monica Pier! Or all three! Actually, all three sounds really good, it could be an entire afternoon and it'll be super fun!
I'm sorry I'm rambling, but I'm super nervous, I've never asked a boy out on my own before. And you're like the coolest boy I've ever met. So anyway text me back! Thank you for taking the time to read!
For now, he decided he'd hang out with Sabrina. She was nice, and it wasn't complicated or inscrutable like Heather or Janna.
Drew said:
Hey Sabrina. I've been thinking a lot about the dance, too, and it was nice to hang out with you. I don't know when I'll next be free, but how about on Saturday we take that walk to Santa Monica Pier? I've always wanted to go to the Aquarium over there and walk along the beach.
He hadn't even set his phone down after sending that message, when he got an abrupt reply.
Sabrina said:
OMG YES!!! Okay! I'm going to ask Brittney if Dudley can give us a ride there! I can't wait to see you again!!!
Drew rested his phone on his chest and looked up at the ceiling.
"… Can't wait to see me again?"
If someone had told him a month ago that a Cheerleader would ask him to a dance and then want to go on a date with him after, he'd have called that person an insane idiot and wondered who was playing a prank on him. Even now, he was having a hard time believing it was really happening.
He wasn't, however, going to say it didn't feel amazing.
@@@@@
Star, Marco, and Dipper walked outside the Diaz home to find Brittney and Dudley standing outside of the former's G-Wagen. Brittney had her arms folded, like she'd been waiting for them to show up, while Dudley was standing straight, with an elegant and dignified air about him.
Marco almost didn't recognize the guy. "Wait, is that Dudley?"
"Good evening, Master Dipper, Master Marco, your Highness," he greeted. "Master Brittney would like to have a word with you."
It was Dudley, Marco was about to ask more about how he came to work for her, but Brittney derailed that with her inquiry. "So, I'm gonna cut to the chase: I think the McCormick kids and Roland are the Beetleborgs."
The three froze where they stood, surprised that she would just come out swinging with that. All three shared quick, wide-eyed looks.
Rather than take their reaction as validation, Brittney took the time to explain her reasoning. "Drew and Roland were in at the dance and Jo wasn't, but the Red Beetleborg showed up to fight that hammer idiot, and only after it was done, did Jo show up for the dance."
The three looked at each other again, then at Brittney.
"I also watched all the videos posted of the fight before that, over at the creek bridge. You guys were all gathered around and waiting for the Blue Beetleborg to come back from wherever he went… and when he got back, he seemed like he got roughed up. Then look who's going around like a freshly bruised mummy unwilling to explain how he got them besides 'I got roughed up by monsters?'"
The three looked at each other a third time, then at Brittney.
"I'm not here because I'm going to snitch or blow up your spot," she continued, "I'm here because I don't want any of my friends getting hurt because they don't know what they're getting into. And also, because I want to know how I can help."
Dipper… did not expect this. "Are you serious?"
"Dead serious," Brittney snapped back. "I'm not the two and three quarters bitches from before the dance. I want to move on to making sure me and mine are safe."
Marco looked at Star, but Star was now looking at Brittney with the biggest smile on her face. "Star, wait–"
Star turned to him. "No, no this is good. This is really good!"
She went over and took Brittney's hands, surprising her. "If we have Brittney on our side, that means we have effectively the power of THREE Princesses backing us up!"
"I don't know…" Marco was concerned about the number of people knowing getting bigger.
"Plus, Brittney has access to big tough dudes with guns and robots who can cover us!"
Brittney frowned. "Hold on, that Hench Co. thing was Daddy letting me use his account. I can't just do that."
Dipper asked. "But if you could do that, would you?"
Brittney nodded. "Pfft, duh! Of course! I'm already writing up a proposal to get them full-time as security for the school. I want to be able to graduate this year and not have classes be interrupted by monsters and supervillains."
Star turned right back to Dipper and Marco, both of whom still had suspicions. "I don't know…" Said the latter, "I mean, what brought this on?"
She sighed at her boyfriend's understandable reluctance, knowing he missed some context. "Marco, before you get weird about it? Brittney and I? We're cool."
She hugged Brittney for emphasis, and despite being unused to the affection–let alone it being from Star Butterfly–Brittney returned the hug.
"Like I said, the beef is squashed," the Queen Bee of the school declared. "And I want to help out because this involves me, I have a lot of money, and I want to invest in not being bothered by those Magnavore creeps."
That was shockingly pragmatic, not as shocking as Marco realizing that the end of conflict between Star and Brittney was actually real. "Okay, there is a lot flying at me tonight and I'm really tired from fighting monsters and not breaking a Karen's neck."
"Oh, me too!" Star pointed out. "I am about to crash."
Dipper, tired himself, nodded. "All right. We'll get you in touch with our representative then, and you can talk to her about how you can help us out. Just as long as you don't do stuff like you did last week and nearly get your face slapped off."
Brittney whipped her hair and sniffed arrogantly. "I would've taken his arm off if Miss Skullnick hadn't jumped in."
"Sure," Dipper and Marco said as one, while Star genuinely believed Brittney absolutely would've done it… somehow.
Satisfied with tonight's meeting, Brittney stepped back. "I'll leave you to get rest, then. I mean it when I say I want to help, and I'm willing to take orders on how to best do it so this nonsense will be over with sooner than later."
Marco had his doubts about such a commitment, but having people who could help honestly felt good. "All right, I believe you, and if Star and Dipper are cool with it then so am I."
"I am so cool with it!" Star said.
Dipper nodded. "Yeah, me too. Welcome to the coalition, I guess."
Brittney noted that none confirmed that the Beetleborgs were who she suspected, but she was fine with that. If they were okay with her helping them, she could wait a bit to find out for sure.
Still, she had one more question to ask before she got in her G-Wagen. "One more thing."
Star rejoined Marco's side. "What's up?"
Brittney pointed between the two of them. "Are you two dating?"
"Nope!" Both of them said in unison. Dipper was impressed at the speed they answered, even as he was reminded of this unfortunate turn of events for himself.
The young woman rolled her eyes. "Ugh, I get it; you don't want people knowing if you're mashing faces, but believe me? Everybody already thinks you are–StarFan13 ships you for Pete's sake. So, cough it up, I won't tell anyone if you are, and tell everyone that you aren't."
Sharing one more look, and with a consenting nod from Marco, Star answered her. "Okay, we've just started dating, and we're kind of too busy to be up front about it."
Marco nodded. "Yeah, let people think what they want to think, and otherwise mind their own business."
Brittney could respect that. "Okay, that's all I wanted to know."
Though, now she was curious about how Jackie Lynn Thomas factored into their whole dynamic. Her gaze lingering on Marco before she turned away, she decided it wasn't her business.
Dudley nodded and tipped his hat to the three teens, before letting Brittney into her car and going to the driver's seat. The G-Wagen then pulled a U-turn and drove off down the road to its destination in Upper Echo Creek.
"I'm… not used to Brittney talking directly to me and not throwing an insult in there somewhere," Marco admitted.
"If you want, you can imagine she was insulting you," Star suggested.
Marco laughed. "No, no… I'm going to roll with this one. Besides, after dealing with those cops? It's nice to know that there are people on our side who aren't just our friends and family."
Star smiled. "Yeah, it is."
"So, uh…" Dipper began, drawing their attention, as he rubbed the back of his neck. "… Before I leave, can I just say something, myself?"
"Sure, what's up?" Marco asked.
"You're not going to veto Brittney joining up, are you?" Star asked.
"No, not that… this is a personal thing, and I think I should get it off my chest and out of the way before we start getting into drama on top of fighting." Dipper said. "Back when we first met, I was… kinda into you?"
Star froze where she stood, and she looked from Dipper and back at Marco–whom Dipper was speaking to.
Oh no, he chooses now to just drop it on him? She thought in alarm.
Marco stared at Dipper, blinking slowly. "… Wh… huh?"
"And… I'm not saying this as a confession thing, or some vain hope that you'll be into me, too…" He stopped himself from trying to ramble on. "I'm just putting it out there so we're all on the same page and it doesn't get weird."
Marco processed that for a second. "… Ohh… You liked the Princess Marco look, right?"
Dipper nodded. "Well, yeah." Before Marco could reassure Dipper that he wasn't the first guy to be tripped up by his Princess form, he continued. "But I also liked what I saw after you changed back."
"Yeah, well you're not the–" Mouth open and hand raised for the aforementioned reassurance, Marco paused, and then his face colored slightly. "… Oh."
"Sorry, for springing this on you, man. I just wanted to get it out of the way, like I said…"
Marco held up his hands, his reassurance now stronger than ever. "What? Don't be sorry! I'm just surprised, I never thought a guy would just come out and say he liked me liked me."
Honestly it was both validating and relieving, especially after finding out that Trip had been into his feminine persona. Funny as that was. People with taste besides Star thought he was hot, and he could live with that. Enjoy it even.
Dipper was relieved that it didn't get weird, and he hoped it wouldn't get weird later. Between fighting the Magnavores and working with Star and the Magic Instruction Book, he had a feeling he'd be close to Star and Marco going forward a lot more.
"Anyway, I'm going to get home. You guys take care, all right? Don't stay up too late," he said.
"I wasn't kidding about wanting to crash," Marco promised. "Later, Dipper."
Star was likewise happy that nothing melted down or even came close to a runaway reaction. "I'll make sure Marco gets his beauty sleep! As long as you get yours, Dipper!"
Waving, Dipper headed up the street towards Shermie's home, and both Star and Marco turned towards their house.
"Dipper has a crush on me," Marco said.
"Yep," Star said.
He looked at her. "Did you know?"
"I'm pretty sure everyone else knows."
Marco stopped at the door. "How did I not notice?"
"A general combination of you being extremely focused on first Jackie Lynn Thomas and then me, combined with all the schooling, teaching, and fighting you do on top of being already awesome."
Marco laughed a moment after that. "And here I thought I was the PHD."
Star then placed her hands on his shoulders. "But Marco, the important thing is… how do you feel about this?"
How considerate of her to ask him. "I mean… Dipper's a tall handsome guy, but I have a girlfriend. That girlfriend is you."
Marco stopped. "Wait, are you looking at this like a yao–"
"Whoa! No! Nonononono–!" Star insisted. "Marco, I just don't want there to be drama. If Dipper likes you, he likes you! If you like Dipper, you like Dipper!"
Marco tried to get a word in edgewise, but then Star hit him with a curveball he didn't see coming. "Same with Jackie Lynn Thomas! If you like her, you like her! I won't mind because Dipper and Jackie are people I like, too! And I like seeing all the people I like hanging out and being happy with people I like! Which is you, who I like, a bunch!"
Immediately, Marco recalled the interaction from the night before, after Misao was rescued and everyone was discussing their shipping being wrecked on the awful rocks of reality. Specifically, he zeroed in on what Jackie had said that had been at the back of his mind since.
"… OT3?"
He had just said he was exhausted, but the implications of what he just learned were going to keep him up for at least half the night, now.
At least if he didn't confirm it. "… Star, I'm going to ask you this very slowly, and you are going to answer me slowly, so you have as much time to think about your answer as I do."
Star nodded, perceptibly slow. "Okay," she said, matching his verbal cadence.
He reached up and placed his hands on her shoulders. "Are you saying, in all confidence, that it's okay if I want to date Jackie Lynn Thomas and/or Dipper, even while I'm dating you. Like… an open relationship or polyamory thing?"
Star answered, with powerful slowness. "I do not know what polyamory means, but I do know that I am okay with you dating Jackie Lynn Thomas and Dipper, and me… because I would like to date Jackie Lynn Thomas and Dipper and you, too."
Suddenly Marco looked around, like he was scanning for hidden enemies or the paparazzi about to ambush.
"What's wrong?" Star asked, with the same slowness.
"You don't have to do that anymore," Marco assured her. "I'm just making sure Janna's not hiding somewhere and this is a bit."
"It's not a bit, I swear," Star said. "I am down for the OT3.. or OT4, I mean… it's up to you what you want to do. Jackie and Mabel both say that communication and being on the same page is important in this kind of thing."
Marco thought he'd be able to sleep on this, but now he knew he definitely was not going to. "Are… are you sure?"
Star pulled Marco in and hugged him. "Of course I'm sure, Marco. The bad guys are getting stronger, there are other people messing with us, and all I want is for my friends to be happy. All my friends, and the guy I am totally in love with."
As Star continued, Marco slowly brought his arms up and returned the hug.
"If we're all fighting for each other as much as we are alongside each other, then nobody can beat us. Ever."
@@@@@
Beneath a highway bridge crossing the Los Angeles river, just off a bike path that ran underneath it, TC sat on the edge of the river, beside the torn apart remains of a human body. In his right hand, he held a strip of skin and connected flesh, blood dripping from it, while in his free hand he held his phone, watching video of the battle at Britta's Tacos. He frowned when he happened to catch sight of himself incidentally fleeing during the fight captured by a news camera.
"Guess I'm not going back to Echo Creek anymore," he mused aloud. "For the best, Brittney didn't give off the vibe I was hoping for. Those Vanderhoff boys fell off the face of the Earth, too, so… no safe harbor."
He took a big bite out of the strip of flesh. "Maybe there's somewhere in the Palisades I can chill. I can't be sneaking around like this anymore. I am too rich for this shit."
CLACK
Alarmed, TC turned and looked with wide eyes down the edge of the river. Gabe stood there, with his shirasaya held in front of him, driven so hard into the concrete shore that it was cracked and split beneath it. In the dark, he couldn't see his face, but the way his face gripped the shaft of the shirasaya in his right hand, while his left hand pulled the hilt of his sword out of the lacquered wooden sheath.
"Too rich?" Gabe greeted him calmly as he pulled the sword. "Ain't nobody too rich for an ass-beating, fuck nigga."
TC tossed aside his meal and stood up, blood dripping from his hand as he closed his phone screen and put it away. "How the fuck did you find me?"
"I'm more embarrassed that I didn't find you sooner," Gabe admitted.
Drawing his sword fully, he held it out at his side as he walked towards TC, using the sheath like a walking stick. "You really out here killing people in broad daylight, and tryna hide out in Echo Creek. Not only is you sloppy, you're dumb, too."
TC narrowed his eyes, practically bristling at the remark. "Can't fault a nigga for being hungry."
"You ain't allowed to say that shit," Gabe shot back. "Now turn the fuck up or get cut the fuck up–I don't mind either way."
Baring his teeth, TC lowered his posture as his violet eyes took on an unearthly glow. "Oh, my pass is revoked, too? Guess I'm switchin' to the hard R, then. I don't need to be smart or clean, Goblin. I got luck on my side, and I know I'm stronger than you."
Gabe stopped, and his neutral expression finally shifted into an unamused scowl. "Nah, you ain't getting away this time."
With that he shot towards TC at high speed, pulling back his sword to swing down, as the hoodie-wearing young man's lips split into a blood-thirsty grin, and he leaped at him in turn.
= - = 8-EX = - =
Legends: A Story of Lies Volume 9 will be here in the Spring... I hope.
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Delta/Soul
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Damn, that ending is foreboding. So TC is a Creature of the Night, like a Vampire or something else?
Also good to see the Heroes are getting more help and resources against the Magnavores.
Also good to see the Heroes are getting more help and resources against the Magnavores.
The Ero-Sennin
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TC is something that our heroes and even our villains aren't quite ready for...
Delta/Soul
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So… Marco and Star are going for a polycule that includes Dipper and Jackie (so far). And Drew is facing his own relationship issues with whom to date involving Sabrina and Heather. Let's see how this plays out.
Character Index and Biographies (Volume 1)
The Ero-Sennin
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There's a lot of Legends right now, and there's a LOT of characters including Original Characters and Characters from other smaller series. So, let's talk about the characters, and separate them by volume and series of appearance. We'll start with our main characters and those who appear in Volume 1 of Legends.
Character Info
Volume 1
|Gravity Falls|
Character Info
Volume 1
And so we reach the end of the character bios for Volume 1. Fun fact: There aren't actually quite a great deal of Original Characters here in Legends. One of my goals has been to keep those to a minimum, and there will be more as the story goes on, this story isn't about them and no one's going to take the spotlight from our heroes.
See you when I cover Volume 2... or when I get some art done for these characters...
Character Info
Volume 1
|Gravity Falls|
Name: Mason "Dipper" Pines
Alias: Pine Tree, Tyrone
Alignment: Good
Sex: Male
Race: Human
Nationality: American/Israeli
Hometown: Piedmont, California
Personality: Clever, curious, adventurous, and brave. Dipper Pines is always on the hunt for a new riddle to unsolve and mystery to uncover. His time spent in Gravity Falls in the Summer of 2010 has made him into a wiser and even more mature young man than he already was.
His determination to uncover the truths in the world has made him an independent and reliable young man. He's far from grown, however, and still regularly finds himself outside his depth even in matters that he's confident he can handle. Fortunately, he can trust and rely on his twin sister to guide him through the mistakes of his youth.
Background: When he was 12 years old, Dipper and his older twin sister Mabel were shipped off to Gravity Falls, Oregon to spend the summer with their Great Uncle Stan Pines while their parents sorted out their marital problems. What appeared to be a long summer at the home of a boring crackpot scammer relative's tourist trap turned into many adventures with the paranormal, weird, and ultimately a clash with tremendous forces for the fate of the universe. This experience changed Dipper down to his very core, transforming him into a mature and assertive young man willing to take risks to uncover truths and defy evil.
After learning of Star Butterfly and her antics in Los Angeles, he did not hesitate to organize a trip there to investigate Star and what she was doing here. He had no idea, however, that this decision would lead to becoming involved in yet another critical battle for the fate of the universe...
Alias: Pine Tree, Tyrone
Alignment: Good
Sex: Male
Race: Human
Nationality: American/Israeli
Hometown: Piedmont, California
Personality: Clever, curious, adventurous, and brave. Dipper Pines is always on the hunt for a new riddle to unsolve and mystery to uncover. His time spent in Gravity Falls in the Summer of 2010 has made him into a wiser and even more mature young man than he already was.
His determination to uncover the truths in the world has made him an independent and reliable young man. He's far from grown, however, and still regularly finds himself outside his depth even in matters that he's confident he can handle. Fortunately, he can trust and rely on his twin sister to guide him through the mistakes of his youth.
Background: When he was 12 years old, Dipper and his older twin sister Mabel were shipped off to Gravity Falls, Oregon to spend the summer with their Great Uncle Stan Pines while their parents sorted out their marital problems. What appeared to be a long summer at the home of a boring crackpot scammer relative's tourist trap turned into many adventures with the paranormal, weird, and ultimately a clash with tremendous forces for the fate of the universe. This experience changed Dipper down to his very core, transforming him into a mature and assertive young man willing to take risks to uncover truths and defy evil.
After learning of Star Butterfly and her antics in Los Angeles, he did not hesitate to organize a trip there to investigate Star and what she was doing here. He had no idea, however, that this decision would lead to becoming involved in yet another critical battle for the fate of the universe...
Name: Mabel Pines
Alias: Shooting Star, Hambone
Alignment: Good
Sex: Female
Nationality: American/Israeli
Hometown: Piedmont, California
Personality: Mabel is a free-spirited girl full of energy and kindness, with an optimism and humility that pairs perfectly with Dipper's steadfast determination. Like her brother, she learned many hard lessons and facts about herself in Gravity Falls, putting herself a bit ahead of the curve of her peers. As such, she has developed a strong, independent streak and seeks–like her brother–to prove herself mature and responsible.
Still, she is not above falling back upon her old bad habits. At her worst, she can be thoughtless–even cruel–and her optimism can leave her blind to unfortunate realities. Nevertheless, she can rely on her brother to take her hand and help her face the worst a cynical world can offer.
Background: Since her adventures in Gravity Falls, Mabel has grown, in many ways, into a kinder, more compassionate version of the manic wrecking ball that tore through that remote Oregon town when she was twelve. Despite a busy career as a championship level Cheerleading Captain, she gave it all up without a second thought to accompany her brother to Los Angeles, simply for a chance to make a new friend out of Star, but would come to find so much more once she arrived...
Alias: Shooting Star, Hambone
Alignment: Good
Sex: Female
Nationality: American/Israeli
Hometown: Piedmont, California
Personality: Mabel is a free-spirited girl full of energy and kindness, with an optimism and humility that pairs perfectly with Dipper's steadfast determination. Like her brother, she learned many hard lessons and facts about herself in Gravity Falls, putting herself a bit ahead of the curve of her peers. As such, she has developed a strong, independent streak and seeks–like her brother–to prove herself mature and responsible.
Still, she is not above falling back upon her old bad habits. At her worst, she can be thoughtless–even cruel–and her optimism can leave her blind to unfortunate realities. Nevertheless, she can rely on her brother to take her hand and help her face the worst a cynical world can offer.
Background: Since her adventures in Gravity Falls, Mabel has grown, in many ways, into a kinder, more compassionate version of the manic wrecking ball that tore through that remote Oregon town when she was twelve. Despite a busy career as a championship level Cheerleading Captain, she gave it all up without a second thought to accompany her brother to Los Angeles, simply for a chance to make a new friend out of Star, but would come to find so much more once she arrived...
Name: Sherman "Shermie" Pines
Alias: N/A
Alignment: Good
Sex: Male
Race: Human
Nationality: American/Israeli
Hometown: Echo Creek, California
Personality: Shermie is an easy-going, laid-back, and freethinking man despite the long and eventful life he's lived. He has fully embraced the retired life, living off the savings he's accrued through his life and partaking in various hobbies including grilling, comic book collecting, and target shooting.
A worldly man, he is a bit behind on the times and doesn't particularly bother to try to keep up. So he may come off as old-fashioned, but he is anything but conservative in his mindset. Were it not for his lengthy military service in multiple countries, he'd be accused of being an old hippie with his disdain for authority and enjoyment of recreational drugs. His relationship with his younger brothers is... tense at best. He cares very little for Stanley and Stanford, hardly pardoning the extenuating circumstances behind their conflict, though deep down he also blames himself for not being there when it all began in the first place.
Though he is a peaceful man in his twilight years, he is not at all above or against violence, and he is the biggest supporter of Dipper and Mabel handling their business as the young adults they are rather than children many try to box them up as. He will, however, not hesitate to fall upon like the wrath of God anything his grandkids cannot handle.
Background: The elder brother of Stanford and Stanley Pines, Shermie left home at a young age and would spend the next thirty years of his life all over the world fighting in wars and getting wrapped up with various people, cultures, and organizations. By the early 1980s, he finally returned to the United States but settled in Los Angeles rather than back in his native New Jersey to raise his family. After his only son moved out and on to start a family of his own, he has since lived in blissful retirement, the leisurely monotony broken up by visits from his child and grandchildren, who he spoils rotten at every opportunity and doesn't hesitate to accommodate at their request.
Alias: N/A
Alignment: Good
Sex: Male
Race: Human
Nationality: American/Israeli
Hometown: Echo Creek, California
Personality: Shermie is an easy-going, laid-back, and freethinking man despite the long and eventful life he's lived. He has fully embraced the retired life, living off the savings he's accrued through his life and partaking in various hobbies including grilling, comic book collecting, and target shooting.
A worldly man, he is a bit behind on the times and doesn't particularly bother to try to keep up. So he may come off as old-fashioned, but he is anything but conservative in his mindset. Were it not for his lengthy military service in multiple countries, he'd be accused of being an old hippie with his disdain for authority and enjoyment of recreational drugs. His relationship with his younger brothers is... tense at best. He cares very little for Stanley and Stanford, hardly pardoning the extenuating circumstances behind their conflict, though deep down he also blames himself for not being there when it all began in the first place.
Though he is a peaceful man in his twilight years, he is not at all above or against violence, and he is the biggest supporter of Dipper and Mabel handling their business as the young adults they are rather than children many try to box them up as. He will, however, not hesitate to fall upon like the wrath of God anything his grandkids cannot handle.
Background: The elder brother of Stanford and Stanley Pines, Shermie left home at a young age and would spend the next thirty years of his life all over the world fighting in wars and getting wrapped up with various people, cultures, and organizations. By the early 1980s, he finally returned to the United States but settled in Los Angeles rather than back in his native New Jersey to raise his family. After his only son moved out and on to start a family of his own, he has since lived in blissful retirement, the leisurely monotony broken up by visits from his child and grandchildren, who he spoils rotten at every opportunity and doesn't hesitate to accommodate at their request.
|Star vs. The Forces of Evil|
Name: Princess Star Butterfly
Alias: Star the Underestimated
Alignment: Hero
Sex: Female
Race: Mewman (with some Human and Demon ancestry)
Nationality: Mewman
Hometown: Butterfly Castle, Kingdom of Mewni
Personality: Star is a happy-go-lucky, friendly, energetic, charismatic and courageous young woman from a fantastic world of monsters and magic. Quick to go on adventures and very quick to throw herself into a fight, she takes on any new challenge with an eager and excited smile. As a result, her arrival on Earth and meeting Marco Diaz, she has dedicated herself fully to learning more about this world, making new friends, and defeating the forces of evil. Her stay on Earth has been more enlightening than she'd like at times, however, and dealing with problems from Mewni that have followed her to her new home has caused her to question what she always knew in her sheltered upbringing–and as she learns more about Earth and its culture, those questions are getting harder.
Background: Upon her birthday, Princess Star Butterfly received the Royal Magic Wand of Mewni, and began preparing to take the throne. Within an hour, she'd set much of Butterfly Castle on fire. To avoid risk of further harm, her parents Moon and River Butterfly sent her off to a safe, boring dimension where she could burn off all of her excess energy without causing harm to Mewni–after all, Earth has no magic, monsters, or any serious threats to Star or Mewni. What was the worst that could happen?
With the defeat of a longtime nemesis, Star is looking forward to enjoying the rest of her school year with Marco… but something seems to be wrong with her wand.
Alias: Star the Underestimated
Alignment: Hero
Sex: Female
Race: Mewman (with some Human and Demon ancestry)
Nationality: Mewman
Hometown: Butterfly Castle, Kingdom of Mewni
Personality: Star is a happy-go-lucky, friendly, energetic, charismatic and courageous young woman from a fantastic world of monsters and magic. Quick to go on adventures and very quick to throw herself into a fight, she takes on any new challenge with an eager and excited smile. As a result, her arrival on Earth and meeting Marco Diaz, she has dedicated herself fully to learning more about this world, making new friends, and defeating the forces of evil. Her stay on Earth has been more enlightening than she'd like at times, however, and dealing with problems from Mewni that have followed her to her new home has caused her to question what she always knew in her sheltered upbringing–and as she learns more about Earth and its culture, those questions are getting harder.
Background: Upon her birthday, Princess Star Butterfly received the Royal Magic Wand of Mewni, and began preparing to take the throne. Within an hour, she'd set much of Butterfly Castle on fire. To avoid risk of further harm, her parents Moon and River Butterfly sent her off to a safe, boring dimension where she could burn off all of her excess energy without causing harm to Mewni–after all, Earth has no magic, monsters, or any serious threats to Star or Mewni. What was the worst that could happen?
With the defeat of a longtime nemesis, Star is looking forward to enjoying the rest of her school year with Marco… but something seems to be wrong with her wand.
Name: Marco Ubaldo Diaz
Alias: Princess Marco Turdina, Safe Kid
Alignment: Hero
Sex: Male
Race: Human…?
Nationality: American/Mexican
Hometown: Echo Creek, Los Angeles, California
Personality: Responsible, organized, down-to-earth, and cautious, Marco is almost everything that the impulsive, chaotic, and reckless Star is not. Smart and straightforward, he takes pride in his orderliness, and his individual skills from his high marks in class to his martial arts prowess. However, he is without question eager and able to throw himself into danger–in the name of defending his friends and those close to him, but also for the fun of it.
In spite of his various skills, Marco is a young man with troubles attached to self-image and a fear of being ridiculed. Though Star abruptly entering his life has helped him begin to overcome some of his hangups, others remain firmly entrenched and still more have appeared thanks to her and grossly limit his potential. Some, however, would see Marco's humanizing shortcomings and call everyone fortunate that he has them…
Background: Always labeled as the "Safe Kid" by his peers for his cautious nature, Marco's entire world was turned on its head when Star Butterfly crashed into his life. Since her arrival, he's seen and done things well outside of his comfort zone, and has found himself craving the adventures and relishing the time he spends with Star during them.
Even when it's a little bit more than he should be handling…
Alias: Princess Marco Turdina, Safe Kid
Alignment: Hero
Sex: Male
Race: Human…?
Nationality: American/Mexican
Hometown: Echo Creek, Los Angeles, California
Personality: Responsible, organized, down-to-earth, and cautious, Marco is almost everything that the impulsive, chaotic, and reckless Star is not. Smart and straightforward, he takes pride in his orderliness, and his individual skills from his high marks in class to his martial arts prowess. However, he is without question eager and able to throw himself into danger–in the name of defending his friends and those close to him, but also for the fun of it.
In spite of his various skills, Marco is a young man with troubles attached to self-image and a fear of being ridiculed. Though Star abruptly entering his life has helped him begin to overcome some of his hangups, others remain firmly entrenched and still more have appeared thanks to her and grossly limit his potential. Some, however, would see Marco's humanizing shortcomings and call everyone fortunate that he has them…
Background: Always labeled as the "Safe Kid" by his peers for his cautious nature, Marco's entire world was turned on its head when Star Butterfly crashed into his life. Since her arrival, he's seen and done things well outside of his comfort zone, and has found himself craving the adventures and relishing the time he spends with Star during them.
Even when it's a little bit more than he should be handling…
Name: Janna Ordonia
Alias: Janna Banana
Alignment: Good
Sex: Female
Race: Human
Nationality: American/Filipino
Hometown: Echo Creek, Los Angeles, California
Personality: Janna is a dry and crass young woman who does as she pleases in defiance of convention. With a curious heart and love for the weird and macabre, she is more at home in scrapyards and cemeteries than in comic book shops, and is drawn to and attracts similarly dark souls to herself. In spite of her off-beat nature, she has no problem being friends with the hyperactive Star and the responsible Marco. As a matter of fact she holds no small affection for both–that is usually sublimated into strange pranks and invasions of Marco's privacy and personal space.
Janna dislikes appearing emotionally vulnerable, keeping people separated from herself with walls of weirdness and indifference. Hidden is an observant side as well, an awareness of the strangeness around her that drives her to delve deeper into the unusual world she lives in, searching for what lurks in the dark.
Background: Growing up alongside Marco Diaz for all his life, she often featured as a background character in it until his family took in an Egyptian foreign exchange student named Akil. Her time spent with Akil brought her closer to Marco, and even after Akil returned home, she remained in his orbit. Something about him caught her attention, and she began sticking close–but still strangely at arm's length from the young man.
She would begin to get much closer again, however, when Star Butterfly arrived at their school from Mewni.
Alias: Janna Banana
Alignment: Good
Sex: Female
Race: Human
Nationality: American/Filipino
Hometown: Echo Creek, Los Angeles, California
Personality: Janna is a dry and crass young woman who does as she pleases in defiance of convention. With a curious heart and love for the weird and macabre, she is more at home in scrapyards and cemeteries than in comic book shops, and is drawn to and attracts similarly dark souls to herself. In spite of her off-beat nature, she has no problem being friends with the hyperactive Star and the responsible Marco. As a matter of fact she holds no small affection for both–that is usually sublimated into strange pranks and invasions of Marco's privacy and personal space.
Janna dislikes appearing emotionally vulnerable, keeping people separated from herself with walls of weirdness and indifference. Hidden is an observant side as well, an awareness of the strangeness around her that drives her to delve deeper into the unusual world she lives in, searching for what lurks in the dark.
Background: Growing up alongside Marco Diaz for all his life, she often featured as a background character in it until his family took in an Egyptian foreign exchange student named Akil. Her time spent with Akil brought her closer to Marco, and even after Akil returned home, she remained in his orbit. Something about him caught her attention, and she began sticking close–but still strangely at arm's length from the young man.
She would begin to get much closer again, however, when Star Butterfly arrived at their school from Mewni.
|Big Bad Beetleborgs|
Name: Andrew "Drew" McCormick
Alias: Blue Stingerborg
Alignment: Good
Sex: Male
Race: Human
Nationality: American
Hometown: Echo Creek, Los Angeles, California
Personality: Drew is a comic book nerd somewhat out of place in the modern discourse of gatekeeping, identity, and contrarianism. A true geek, he has little problem sharing his enthusiasm for comic books and superheroes with others. He holds an idealistic naïvete about heroes and heroism, and dreams of being a hero like those in his favorite series, the Big Bad Beetleborgs.
In spite of being an open and accepting comic book fan, he is critically lacking in self-esteem in other areas in his life due to both his upbringing and targeting of bullies throughout his childhood, and would much rather be the heroes in his comic books than himself. Which in itself is a shame, because his ability to persevere in the face of his hardships gives hint to a much greater figure than he can imagine.
Background: Drew has never had the most positive upbringing. Living between a narcissistic father, a competitive and aggressive younger sister, and daily torments from two bullies wealthy enough to live beyond consequence, Drew has spent much of his life engrossed in comic books, and many of his interpersonal bonds are founded on that love. It is then no surprise that the most important event in his young life is the result of wanting to be the hero in his favorite book; the consequences of that desire, on the other hand…
Alias: Blue Stingerborg
Alignment: Good
Sex: Male
Race: Human
Nationality: American
Hometown: Echo Creek, Los Angeles, California
Personality: Drew is a comic book nerd somewhat out of place in the modern discourse of gatekeeping, identity, and contrarianism. A true geek, he has little problem sharing his enthusiasm for comic books and superheroes with others. He holds an idealistic naïvete about heroes and heroism, and dreams of being a hero like those in his favorite series, the Big Bad Beetleborgs.
In spite of being an open and accepting comic book fan, he is critically lacking in self-esteem in other areas in his life due to both his upbringing and targeting of bullies throughout his childhood, and would much rather be the heroes in his comic books than himself. Which in itself is a shame, because his ability to persevere in the face of his hardships gives hint to a much greater figure than he can imagine.
Background: Drew has never had the most positive upbringing. Living between a narcissistic father, a competitive and aggressive younger sister, and daily torments from two bullies wealthy enough to live beyond consequence, Drew has spent much of his life engrossed in comic books, and many of his interpersonal bonds are founded on that love. It is then no surprise that the most important event in his young life is the result of wanting to be the hero in his favorite book; the consequences of that desire, on the other hand…
Name: Josephine "Jo" McCormick
Alias: Red Strikerborg
Alignment: Good
Sex: Female
Race: Human
Nationality: American
Hometown: Echo Creek, Los Angeles, California
Personality: Jo is an aggressive, combative, but surprisingly intelligent tomboy. A comic book lover like her brother, she's happy to throw down with the most densely bearded of aficionados and come out triumphant in her knowledge. Also like her brother, she has a strong sense of justice, but has no problem dispensing it in the name of doing the right thing.
Jo despises being looked down upon for any reason, and always endeavors to be on top. Her fearsome, opinionated attitude has gotten her into plenty of shouting matches, and physical altercations to boot–but it has distanced her from others, leaving her only real friends Drew and Roland. Nevertheless, she is close to those she cares for, and when the stars align and she can be the person she wants to be, she is a reliable friend.
Background: Jo grew up favored in her household over her brother, whom she is barely a year younger than. Like Drew, living with a narcissist has greatly warped her interpersonal behaviors, but in a different direction from Drew, and as a result she is isolated from others and doesn't do well at making friends. So when the opportunity to become a hero like in the comics came along, she took it on… and the consequences that came with it.
Alias: Red Strikerborg
Alignment: Good
Sex: Female
Race: Human
Nationality: American
Hometown: Echo Creek, Los Angeles, California
Personality: Jo is an aggressive, combative, but surprisingly intelligent tomboy. A comic book lover like her brother, she's happy to throw down with the most densely bearded of aficionados and come out triumphant in her knowledge. Also like her brother, she has a strong sense of justice, but has no problem dispensing it in the name of doing the right thing.
Jo despises being looked down upon for any reason, and always endeavors to be on top. Her fearsome, opinionated attitude has gotten her into plenty of shouting matches, and physical altercations to boot–but it has distanced her from others, leaving her only real friends Drew and Roland. Nevertheless, she is close to those she cares for, and when the stars align and she can be the person she wants to be, she is a reliable friend.
Background: Jo grew up favored in her household over her brother, whom she is barely a year younger than. Like Drew, living with a narcissist has greatly warped her interpersonal behaviors, but in a different direction from Drew, and as a result she is isolated from others and doesn't do well at making friends. So when the opportunity to become a hero like in the comics came along, she took it on… and the consequences that came with it.
Name: Roland Williams
Alias: Green Hunter Beetleborg
Alignment: Good
Sex: Male
Nationality: American
Hometown: Echo Creek, Los Angeles, California
Personality: Laid back and comfortable in himself and identity, Roland enjoys working part time at his family's comic book shop and poring over his favorite books with his closest friends. He readily bonds with Jo over comic debates, but appreciates Drew's live and let-live attitude with regard to the comic fandom. He is an avid trash-talker, however, and running his mouth has gotten him in plenty of trouble with his friends, his peers in general, and his family.
Background: The son and grandson of successful business owners, Roland has grown up all his life a respected figure in Echo Creek's community. Though he is humble and plays ignorant of his position and privilege in the community, he is well aware of it and even more so aware of the checkered past his family conceals behind the image cultivated by his grandmother. His love of comic books, fostered by his family and his longtime friends Drew and Jo, and that aforementioned checkered past were all big factors in accepting a chance to become a superhero… and despite all appearances, he's more prepared for it than even he knows.
Alias: Green Hunter Beetleborg
Alignment: Good
Sex: Male
Nationality: American
Hometown: Echo Creek, Los Angeles, California
Personality: Laid back and comfortable in himself and identity, Roland enjoys working part time at his family's comic book shop and poring over his favorite books with his closest friends. He readily bonds with Jo over comic debates, but appreciates Drew's live and let-live attitude with regard to the comic fandom. He is an avid trash-talker, however, and running his mouth has gotten him in plenty of trouble with his friends, his peers in general, and his family.
Background: The son and grandson of successful business owners, Roland has grown up all his life a respected figure in Echo Creek's community. Though he is humble and plays ignorant of his position and privilege in the community, he is well aware of it and even more so aware of the checkered past his family conceals behind the image cultivated by his grandmother. His love of comic books, fostered by his family and his longtime friends Drew and Jo, and that aforementioned checkered past were all big factors in accepting a chance to become a superhero… and despite all appearances, he's more prepared for it than even he knows.
Name: Heather Summers
Alias: N/A
Alignment: Good
Sex: Female
Race: Human
Nationality: American
Hometown: Echo Creek, Los Angeles, California
Personality: Heather is a friendly, kind, and charismatic girl, who is popular with her peers (especially Drew). Despite her "popular girl" status, she is an avid comic book reader and nerd–which is why she works part time at Zoom Comics as a Barista. She cares greatly for her coworkers and boss, and for her favorite regular customers Drew and Jo.
Background: A normal girl in a crazy noisy town, Heather is considered one of the most popular girls at Echo Creek Academy and is the object of affections of many of her peers. Consciously aware of this, especially of the crush Drew has on her, she gently keeps her distance from those who make advances towards her, but there's no mistaking when she has a soft spot for someone.
Alias: N/A
Alignment: Good
Sex: Female
Race: Human
Nationality: American
Hometown: Echo Creek, Los Angeles, California
Personality: Heather is a friendly, kind, and charismatic girl, who is popular with her peers (especially Drew). Despite her "popular girl" status, she is an avid comic book reader and nerd–which is why she works part time at Zoom Comics as a Barista. She cares greatly for her coworkers and boss, and for her favorite regular customers Drew and Jo.
Background: A normal girl in a crazy noisy town, Heather is considered one of the most popular girls at Echo Creek Academy and is the object of affections of many of her peers. Consciously aware of this, especially of the crush Drew has on her, she gently keeps her distance from those who make advances towards her, but there's no mistaking when she has a soft spot for someone.
Name: [REDACTED] "Nano" Williams
Alias: Big Nano
Alignment: Good
Sex: Female
Race: Human
Nationality: American
Hometown: Echo Creek, Los Angeles, California
Personality: Energetic, sassy, and very much in-your-face; Roland's grandmother, whom everyone in town affectionately refers to as "Nano" believes that old age is a state of mind and she does not subscribe to it. A daredevil and an adrenaline enthusiast, it's hardly unusual to see her riding her motorcycle, practicing martial arts in the park, or starting it with any troublemakers who show their hides on her turf. Past that, she is a loving and doting matriarch of her family, teasing and pranking her son and daughter-in-law in good fun, and spoiling her beloved grandson.
In spite of her extroverted nature, however, Nano likes to keep many things to herself. Her family knows to never ask her about the days of her youth, and anyone outside it is quickly deterred from trying.
Background: A woman with a great deal of history, one she keeps to herself, Nano settled in Echo Creek in the late 1980s with her son Aaron after a relatively nomadic life on the backroads and side alleys of the country. Inspired by a visit to Gravity Falls in the early 90s, she opened Zoom Comics and quickly became not just a successful business owner but a pillar of the community in Echo Creek and the larger LA Metro area.
Nowadays, Nano can be seen practicing Tai Chi in the park, riding her motorcycle, or running her comic book shop alongside her son and grandson, but wherever she goes she cannot be missed.
Alias: Big Nano
Alignment: Good
Sex: Female
Race: Human
Nationality: American
Hometown: Echo Creek, Los Angeles, California
Personality: Energetic, sassy, and very much in-your-face; Roland's grandmother, whom everyone in town affectionately refers to as "Nano" believes that old age is a state of mind and she does not subscribe to it. A daredevil and an adrenaline enthusiast, it's hardly unusual to see her riding her motorcycle, practicing martial arts in the park, or starting it with any troublemakers who show their hides on her turf. Past that, she is a loving and doting matriarch of her family, teasing and pranking her son and daughter-in-law in good fun, and spoiling her beloved grandson.
In spite of her extroverted nature, however, Nano likes to keep many things to herself. Her family knows to never ask her about the days of her youth, and anyone outside it is quickly deterred from trying.
Background: A woman with a great deal of history, one she keeps to herself, Nano settled in Echo Creek in the late 1980s with her son Aaron after a relatively nomadic life on the backroads and side alleys of the country. Inspired by a visit to Gravity Falls in the early 90s, she opened Zoom Comics and quickly became not just a successful business owner but a pillar of the community in Echo Creek and the larger LA Metro area.
Nowadays, Nano can be seen practicing Tai Chi in the park, riding her motorcycle, or running her comic book shop alongside her son and grandson, but wherever she goes she cannot be missed.
Name: Vexor Gaohm
Alias: Vexor G.
Alignment: Evil
Sex: Male?
Race: Unknown
Nationality: Magnavore Tribe
Hometown: The Nightmare Realm
Personality: Vexor is intelligent, self-assured, and calculating. From the formation of his small group of villains, he has prided himself on being able to outsmart and outplay the larger parties that hold control over the incomprehensible boundary between dimensions. He is also inquisitive and surprisingly open-minded, eager to explore new situations and solve the problems presented to him practically.
For all his self-proclaimed attributes, Vexor is manipulative, coercive, and has no qualms about punishing his minions if they ignore him. However, he is strangely sensible in his methods and savvy, which can be held as proof of why he has survived so long.
Background: The leader of the Magnavore Tribe, it is unknown how he formed this group, or how powerful it was back in the Nightmare Realm. However, once he came to the Nightmare Realm, he did not hesitate to begin a campaign to conquer not just Earth, but the entire universe.
Alias: Vexor G.
Alignment: Evil
Sex: Male?
Race: Unknown
Nationality: Magnavore Tribe
Hometown: The Nightmare Realm
Personality: Vexor is intelligent, self-assured, and calculating. From the formation of his small group of villains, he has prided himself on being able to outsmart and outplay the larger parties that hold control over the incomprehensible boundary between dimensions. He is also inquisitive and surprisingly open-minded, eager to explore new situations and solve the problems presented to him practically.
For all his self-proclaimed attributes, Vexor is manipulative, coercive, and has no qualms about punishing his minions if they ignore him. However, he is strangely sensible in his methods and savvy, which can be held as proof of why he has survived so long.
Background: The leader of the Magnavore Tribe, it is unknown how he formed this group, or how powerful it was back in the Nightmare Realm. However, once he came to the Nightmare Realm, he did not hesitate to begin a campaign to conquer not just Earth, but the entire universe.
Name: Noxic
Alias: Combat Mecha Army Commander Noxic
Alignment: Bad
Sex: None [Identifies as Male]
Race: Machine Humanoid
Nationality: Magnavore Tribe
Hometown: The Nightmare Realm
Personality: Noxic is happy-go-lucky, chaotic, and obnoxious. Noxic is a villain who loves to cause trouble, get into fights, and laugh at the mayhem in his wake. Having little respect for authority figures, especially Vexor, he is the most rebellious of his subordinates and often receives physical harm as a result. He is also careless and indifferent to his mechanical creations, and their contempt for him in turn.
However, when it comes to the people he calls his friends, he is not only intensely loyal to them but also thoughtful and considerate of them, to the point of being quick to provide emotional support for as much as fight for them.
Background: A machine intelligence occupying a mechanical body of his own design, how Noxic came to be shackled to Vexor's will is a long and irritating story, but he gets through it by causing trouble with his fellow Magnavores Typhus and Jara, whom he considers his best friends.
Alias: Combat Mecha Army Commander Noxic
Alignment: Bad
Sex: None [Identifies as Male]
Race: Machine Humanoid
Nationality: Magnavore Tribe
Hometown: The Nightmare Realm
Personality: Noxic is happy-go-lucky, chaotic, and obnoxious. Noxic is a villain who loves to cause trouble, get into fights, and laugh at the mayhem in his wake. Having little respect for authority figures, especially Vexor, he is the most rebellious of his subordinates and often receives physical harm as a result. He is also careless and indifferent to his mechanical creations, and their contempt for him in turn.
However, when it comes to the people he calls his friends, he is not only intensely loyal to them but also thoughtful and considerate of them, to the point of being quick to provide emotional support for as much as fight for them.
Background: A machine intelligence occupying a mechanical body of his own design, how Noxic came to be shackled to Vexor's will is a long and irritating story, but he gets through it by causing trouble with his fellow Magnavores Typhus and Jara, whom he considers his best friends.
Name: Typhus
Alias: Bio Lord Typhus
Alignment: Bad
Sex: None [Identifies as Male]
Race: Unknown
Nationality: Magnavore Tribe
Hometown: Nightmare Realm
Personality: Gregarious, boisterous, but easy-going, Typhus loves excess in everything from eating to drinking to fighting. In battle, he's quick to praise his opponents even as he taunts and grinds them down with his regenerative abilities, before clobbering with his monstrous strength. To his friends he's even kinder, quick to be a place of comfort and support, and even wisdom when they're low.
Despite his brutish nature, Typhus is extremely intelligent, with a profound knowledge of biology, chemistry, medicine, and genetics. It is with this knowledge that he is able to create his monsters from his own body, giving him his moniker, The Bio Lord.
Background: A long lived resident of the Nightmare Realm, Typhus' rough past and skills has seen him cross paths with many powerful denizens. It was this complicated past that led him into the servitude of Vexor. Owing his life to Vexor, Typhus serves him reluctantly, but his friendship with Noxic and Jara has made it easier.
Alias: Bio Lord Typhus
Alignment: Bad
Sex: None [Identifies as Male]
Race: Unknown
Nationality: Magnavore Tribe
Hometown: Nightmare Realm
Personality: Gregarious, boisterous, but easy-going, Typhus loves excess in everything from eating to drinking to fighting. In battle, he's quick to praise his opponents even as he taunts and grinds them down with his regenerative abilities, before clobbering with his monstrous strength. To his friends he's even kinder, quick to be a place of comfort and support, and even wisdom when they're low.
Despite his brutish nature, Typhus is extremely intelligent, with a profound knowledge of biology, chemistry, medicine, and genetics. It is with this knowledge that he is able to create his monsters from his own body, giving him his moniker, The Bio Lord.
Background: A long lived resident of the Nightmare Realm, Typhus' rough past and skills has seen him cross paths with many powerful denizens. It was this complicated past that led him into the servitude of Vexor. Owing his life to Vexor, Typhus serves him reluctantly, but his friendship with Noxic and Jara has made it easier.
Name: Jara
Alias: Mercenary Army Commander Jara
Alignment: Bad
Sex: Female
Race: Unknown Humanoid
Nationality: Magnavore Tribe
Hometown: Nightmare Realm
Personality: Confident, no-nonsense, and pridefully arrogant, Jara is a consummate mercenary, Jara relishes martial combat and challenging strong foes. Loyal to her companions, she often takes a big sister or motherly role to Noxic and Typhus, often leading them into battle and stunning them with her prowess.
Her arrogance, however, is her greatest weakness. When challenged, Jara does not do well. Especially when she is challenged by someone she sees as weaker than her. Other, deeper issues haunt her, and when things go bad, she tends to spiral severely.
Background: Leader of a once powerful army of mercenaries, Jara wound up in the employ of Vexor after a crushing defeat at the hands of a Butterfly long ago. In spite of the proud face she puts on behind her mask, she is deeply scarred by her past experience, manifesting as a distant aloofness from her friends.
Alias: Mercenary Army Commander Jara
Alignment: Bad
Sex: Female
Race: Unknown Humanoid
Nationality: Magnavore Tribe
Hometown: Nightmare Realm
Personality: Confident, no-nonsense, and pridefully arrogant, Jara is a consummate mercenary, Jara relishes martial combat and challenging strong foes. Loyal to her companions, she often takes a big sister or motherly role to Noxic and Typhus, often leading them into battle and stunning them with her prowess.
Her arrogance, however, is her greatest weakness. When challenged, Jara does not do well. Especially when she is challenged by someone she sees as weaker than her. Other, deeper issues haunt her, and when things go bad, she tends to spiral severely.
Background: Leader of a once powerful army of mercenaries, Jara wound up in the employ of Vexor after a crushing defeat at the hands of a Butterfly long ago. In spite of the proud face she puts on behind her mask, she is deeply scarred by her past experience, manifesting as a distant aloofness from her friends.
Name: Thaddeus "Trip" Vanderhoff III and Van Vanderhoff
Alias: N/A
Alignment: Bad
Sex: Male
Race: Human
Nationality: American
Hometown: Echo Creek, Los Angeles, California
Personality: The Vanderhoff brothers are the poster children for affluenza: Cruel, sadistic, petty, and completely disconnected from human empathy thanks to a life of nothing but wealth and privilege. Utterly without real friends or relationships that aren't about their money or position in Echo Creek's society, they simply do not care and relish being able to lord their wealth over those beneath them. They are, without doubt, the worst people in town.
Background: The half-brother sons of Echo Creek's most prosperous real-estate developer, Trip and Van are a pair of bullies who go largely unchallenged in Echo Creek thanks to their phenomenal wealth and ability to leverage it against any obstacles in their path. Their favorite target is Drew McCormick, and from their first meeting they've done nothing but torment him for their own amusement and nothing else. Someone should punch these dipshits in their faces.
Alias: N/A
Alignment: Bad
Sex: Male
Race: Human
Nationality: American
Hometown: Echo Creek, Los Angeles, California
Personality: The Vanderhoff brothers are the poster children for affluenza: Cruel, sadistic, petty, and completely disconnected from human empathy thanks to a life of nothing but wealth and privilege. Utterly without real friends or relationships that aren't about their money or position in Echo Creek's society, they simply do not care and relish being able to lord their wealth over those beneath them. They are, without doubt, the worst people in town.
Background: The half-brother sons of Echo Creek's most prosperous real-estate developer, Trip and Van are a pair of bullies who go largely unchallenged in Echo Creek thanks to their phenomenal wealth and ability to leverage it against any obstacles in their path. Their favorite target is Drew McCormick, and from their first meeting they've done nothing but torment him for their own amusement and nothing else. Someone should punch these dipshits in their faces.
|Original Characters|
Name: Misao H. Darlian
Alias: FaithfulPony371
Alignment: Good
Sex: Female
Race: Human
Nationality: German/Swiss/French/Japanese
Hometown: Geneva, Switzerland/Berlin, Germany
Personality: Misao is bright, extroverted, and assertive. It is natural for her to plunge headfirst into any situation and pull along anyone within arms reach with her. This, combined with her beauty and positive nature, makes her quick to connect with almost everyone she meets.
Being a generous and gregarious girl from a wealthy family, she has no issue with spoiling herself or those she considers close to her. On the other hand, when crossed, she has a fearsome temper–and rarely holds back her wrath when those close to her are in danger.
Background: The daughter of Hyuuga Heavy Industries CEO Momiji Hyuuga, and Hyuuga Medical Works Chief Researcher Edward Darlian, Misao has lived a sheltered upbringing among wealthy elite throughout most of her life in Europe. Educated in Switzerland and the South of France, she chose the final year of her schooling to spend it in the United States and was invited by the famous Haley Family from their decades and generations spanning sitcom "Our Family" as an exchange student. Expecting to spend the last year of youthful freedom immersed in American High School Culture, she never would've imagined that forces beyond her comprehension were moving to ensure that she would end up in a weirder and wilder situation than any private school in Beverly Hills could hope to provide.
Alias: FaithfulPony371
Alignment: Good
Sex: Female
Race: Human
Nationality: German/Swiss/French/Japanese
Hometown: Geneva, Switzerland/Berlin, Germany
Personality: Misao is bright, extroverted, and assertive. It is natural for her to plunge headfirst into any situation and pull along anyone within arms reach with her. This, combined with her beauty and positive nature, makes her quick to connect with almost everyone she meets.
Being a generous and gregarious girl from a wealthy family, she has no issue with spoiling herself or those she considers close to her. On the other hand, when crossed, she has a fearsome temper–and rarely holds back her wrath when those close to her are in danger.
Background: The daughter of Hyuuga Heavy Industries CEO Momiji Hyuuga, and Hyuuga Medical Works Chief Researcher Edward Darlian, Misao has lived a sheltered upbringing among wealthy elite throughout most of her life in Europe. Educated in Switzerland and the South of France, she chose the final year of her schooling to spend it in the United States and was invited by the famous Haley Family from their decades and generations spanning sitcom "Our Family" as an exchange student. Expecting to spend the last year of youthful freedom immersed in American High School Culture, she never would've imagined that forces beyond her comprehension were moving to ensure that she would end up in a weirder and wilder situation than any private school in Beverly Hills could hope to provide.
Character Info
Volume 1
And so we reach the end of the character bios for Volume 1. Fun fact: There aren't actually quite a great deal of Original Characters here in Legends. One of my goals has been to keep those to a minimum, and there will be more as the story goes on, this story isn't about them and no one's going to take the spotlight from our heroes.
See you when I cover Volume 2... or when I get some art done for these characters...
Last edited:
Delta/Soul
Versed in the lewd.
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This Akil character mentioned in Janna's Biography is most definitely going to have a chapter or mention in the future.
Power in Pink
New
The Ero-Sennin
Shitposter no more
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Volume 9 is done, and now I'm going to start posting it! Things take surprising turns both past and present in Echo Creek!
When Teodoro woke, the mid-morning sun was already slanting in through the high windows. The last thing he remembered was the meal he'd prepared in Dr. Hillhurst's kitchen the night before—and collapsing onto a bed in one of the house's guest rooms, full to the point of near-bursting.
He slipped from the blankets, set his feet on the hardwood floor, and looked out the window.
It was already so late. He normally did not wake so late, even on the road, and never at home.
A pain ached in him.
Home.
Closing his eyes, he took a deep breath to force it down, and rose to dress.
Descending the stairs into the grand, over-decorated foyer and walking into the sitting room moments later, he took in the details he hadn't noticed before: the antique organ dominating the far wall, the suit of medieval armor, and a dozen paintings of stormy landscapes and stern-faced men—making ridiculous faces.
He did a double take at those before his attention was drawn to the woman tending to a bruised and bloodied Dr. Hillhurst on the same couch where the "Doctor" had treated him.
The woman—with dark hair fading to blonde at the tips, and dressed in a simple white dress under a brown jacket—turned to him when she heard his arrival.
Her warm, hazel-colored eyes lit up. "Well, howdy. You must be the young man Al warned me about!"
She rose and offered her hand for a shake. "Jane. Jane Monroe. Pleasure's mine."
"What happened to him?" Teodoro asked, voice sharp even as he took her hand and shook it—in a fashion both measured, polite.
She hooked her other thumb over her shoulder at Dr. Hillhurst. "Al here got himself in a scrape down in town."
Teodoro's eyes flicked past her, narrow with concern. "Is he all right?"
"Oh, he'll be his ornery self again by supper. Don't you worry none," she assured. "How are you, darlin'? You were half-dead from exposure when he found you, wren't ya?"
"I was," Teodoro replied, flatly.
Jane blinked. "… You're blunt as a kick to the teeth, huh?"
"There's no point in mincing words."
She laughed loud and sudden, a surprised bark that nearly made him jump. "Oh, you two are gonna get along like a house on fire."
Teodoro wondered her meaning as Dr. Hillhurst, stirred by her laugh, groaned awake.
"Oh, Ted, you're awake. Ready to get that ammo made…?" He greeted groggily.
"Ready," Teodoro answered, clean and sharp.
"Excellent. In spite of various inconveniences, your order is in. Jane here was even kind enough to bring the first shipment—.45 and 7.63x25, as we discussed."
Jane nodded. "And there's more coming. By the time I'm back from town, ol' Backintosh'll have the next batch ready. I'll have it back here before sundown."
Dr. Hillhurst sat up slightly, wincing. "And I'll have the rounds requested ready by morning. Lucky for us, the bastards only went after my face—my hands are still good for a night of fine work."
Jane smirked. "That's what you tell all the ladies down at the saloon, huh?"
Teodoro flushed—his cheeks blooming a startled pink. That a woman would speak like that left him momentarily speechless.
"Oh, it's true," Dr. Hillhurst replied without missing a beat. "Ask any of the ladies. My needlework is impeccable—there's not a stitch I can't mend."
Trying to shake off his fluster, Teodoro pressed forward. "Who did this to you?"
"Remember those… troublesome dealings?"
He nodded once. "Tell me who. I'll handle them."
Jane raised an eyebrow. "Eager, aren't you?"
"I made a deal with him," Teodoro replied. "He was hurt upholding his end, and I will not let that rest on me."
"Trust me, son, Al would've taken that beating whether or not he was helping you," Jane said. "But I like your integrity."
"Thank you for the compliment," Teodoro said evenly, "but I still want to know who did this."
Jane glanced over at Dr. Hillhurst. "Zealous kid, huh?"
"In him burns a righteous flame," Dr. Hillhurst said, "and it will blaze regardless of any attempt to dissuade him. Regard him as a man, not a child, Jane."
Jane turned back to Teodoro. Looking at his face—so young, so fresh—but none of that youth reached his eyes.
Something about that hollow stare made her want to hug him tightly, an unfamiliar maternal urge that caught her off-guard and made her hesitate uncomfortably.
Dr. Hillhurst shifted, settling further back into the cushions. "I'll tell you what, my boy. Sooner or later, those contentious bastards will come to my doorstep again. When they do—they're yours."
Teodoro shook his head. "No. They're God's."
Jane was at a loss. The ease, the lack of hesitation to speak of such things—it chilled her.
"Just… don't make a habit of killing people on your land," she said quietly. "That'll only invite more trouble."
"There's only one way to deal with monsters," Teodoro said. "Thoroughly."
Jane opened her mouth to push back—but stopped. Instead, she sighed and walked to the door, snatching a weathered brown fedora from the rack.
"I'll leave the doctor to you. I've got my own troublesome dealings to tend to."
She exited briskly, the door slamming shut behind her.
Dr. Hillhurst groaned as he sat up straighter. "Pardon her, Teodoro. Jane does quite a bit of charitable work for the community, and bloodshed appalls her."
Teodoro looked toward the door, then back to him. "That's her concern."
Shaking his head, Dr. Hillhurst pushed himself to his feet. "Well, I'm rested enough, my vision's no longer doubled, and my bones are intact. Come on, lad. Let's talk while I show you the workshop."
Outside, Jane approached a pale brown horse tied to a trellis post, the saddle a dusty blend of pink and tan. She climbed into the stirrups.
"Come on, Sheila," she said gently, patting the horse's side. "Duty calls."
Moving up the dirt path, Jane guided her horse past the rows of Dr. Hillhurst's sprawling trellises until they gave way to the tall wild grasses beyond the vineyard.
As she scanned the open fields ahead of her, she slowed.
Her gaze was drawn toward a rise in the ground off to the right, eyes narrowing as she caught something—movement? A glint?
She frowned.
After moments of scrutiny, she looked away, ahead.
"… Get along now," she murmured to Sheila, giving her a light nudge.
She spared one final glance behind her right as the horse walked on, then looked down at the ring on her right hand index finger: a pink band with a diamond-studded silver "S." It shimmered in the light as she stared at it.
A few moments after horse and rider fell out of sight, a figure slowly rose from the tall grass she'd eyed. Hutchinson, his face purple with bruises and jaw held shut and swathed in gauze, looked back the way Jane rode, then down at Dr. Hillhurst's home.
"All right," he snarled through clenched teeth.
He hoisted a sawed-off Remington Model 1897 into both hands as one by one, six more men rose beside him—guns drawn, holsters unlatched, shotguns at the ready.
"We're putting an end to this once and for all."
Taking his cane from beside the door, Dr. Hillhurst headed out and motioned for Teodoro to follow. "Come along—I'll show you the shed."
Teodoro followed closely behind, like a duckling trailing its mother. Dr. Hillhurst led him around the side of the house to a sizable outbuilding tucked behind the main house. He opened the door to reveal a well-equipped gunsmith's workshop.
Inside, rows of firearms lined the walls: shotguns, lever-action rifles, and revolvers in varying states of construction and repair. The smithing table was covered in tools and small parts, and beside it sat two heavy buckets—both filled with freshly acquired brass casings.
Teodoro's eyes widened. "You have so many…"
"I do make weapons for my neighbors," Dr. Hillhurst said, stepping inside. "Because without the means to defend it, liberty is just a privilege waiting to be taken."
Teodoro nodded. "You need more than having guns for that, though."
Dr. Hillhurst gave a tired smile. "Far more."
He settled into a swiveling chair, then turned to face the boy with one of the .45 casings in hand. "But let's not talk about my guns. Let's talk about yours."
Teodoro met his gaze.
"There's something I've been meaning to ask, friend. What's your association with Avalon Armeros?"
"I don't know them personally," Teodoro replied without hesitation. "But my father bought my weapons from them."
"The Mauser and the Colt?"
He nodded. "Yes."
"Can you tell me more? About your family?"
Teodoro paused, and stood still for a moment. Dr. Hillhurst watched as his empty expression still managed to darken with what was no doubt a storm of recent memories raging behind his all-but unblinking eyes.
What felt like an eternity, Teodoro took a long, deep breath. In—and out.
"We hunt monsters," he answered plainly. "We have since we arrived in Mexico two hundred years ago—and before that, in Spain. We have never known peace, and never will, not as long as monsters draw breath."
He said it so mechanically, like he'd been told it a thousand times.
From someone he listened to unconditionally.
Dr. Hillhurst felt a pang of guilt, as he realized he may have set off something in the man with his question. Still, he pressed on.
"Real monsters, not men acting like them."
"There is little difference," Teodoro said darkly. "But I've seen both. Werewolves. Vampires. Demons. The dead who won't stay dead…"
He drew the revolver from his right holster, flipped it in his hand and held it out to Dr. Hillhurst, grip-first.
The gesture surprised the "Doctor", but he took the gun carefully and examined it.
"The bullets we use aren't just silver. They poison. They strip power from the unnatural—weakening them until they're no more dangerous than a man. Then they die."
Dr. Hillhurst turned to the Mauser holstered on the boy's left side. "And the Mauser?"
"I use that when I don't want to waste silver," Teodoro replied.
"Logical." Dr. Hillhurst smirked. "How handy are you with steel?"
"I rarely miss with my pistols," Teodoro admitted. "But they're not my strength."
"No?"
"My strength is the rifle. And the saber. I've hidden them both… in case you couldn't be trusted."
"Smart," Dr. Hillhurst said, a little impressed.
Teodoro paused. Then, almost imperceptibly, he smiled.
"… But I think I can trust you."
"Oh?" Dr. Hillhurst raised an eyebrow. "You've seemed a touch wary, until now."
"I collapsed on your doorstep and awoke with water, shade, and a cool rag on my forehead," Teodoro said. "You could've stripped me of everything I had and left me to die—but you didn't. You saw my silver, my guns… and still never once considered betraying me."
Dr. Hillhurst let out a low chuckle as he handed the revolver back. "Well. Within five minutes of meeting you, I understood two things: first, monsters exist—and you kill them. Second, if I'd tried to rob you, even while you were half-dead… you'd have still found a way to kill me first."
The smirk on Teodoro's face widened ever so slightly as he holstered his weapon.
"Smart."
Dr. Hillhurst laughed lightly. "Let's get to work on that order of yours. I'll need to melt down the silver first."
"I can do it," Teodoro offered. "My father taught me how."
That caught the doctor's attention. "A man of many trades. All right then—the forge is outside. Think you can manage it?"
Teodoro stood. "It shouldn't be difficult."
He only took two steps past the door before something caught his attention. His sharp eyes tracked movement up the vineyard path—and he spotted Hutchinson and his men just coming into view before the corner of the house broke line of sight.
He stepped back inside quickly.
Dr. Hillhurst turned, surprised at his sudden return. "Something wrong?"
"There are armed men approaching the house," Teodoro said flatly. "They didn't see me."
The doctor's face fell into a grim line. "How many?"
"Seven."
"Were any of them bandaged around the head?"
"Yes. The one leading them."
"Damn it, Hutchinson… you've been warned enough."
Without further discussion, Dr. Hillhurst rose and moved to the wall of finished firearms. He reached for a lever-action shotgun, thought better of it, and swapped it for a pump-action model. He tossed another to Teodoro, along with a box of shells.
"Here you go, lad. Looks like we've got some of those troublesome dealings to settle."
With quick, precise movements, Teodoro chambered a round, flipped the shotgun over, and loaded six more into the magazine tube. His hands were smooth, automatic. Dr. Hillhurst had only finished loading his second shell when Teodoro was finished.
"Do we warn them?" he asked, voice calm.
"They're on my property with guns drawn," Dr. Hillhurst replied, loading his third shell. "So, no."
Teodoro glanced out the window.
"Do we show mercy?"
Dr. Hillhurst didn't even look up. "They're on my property with guns drawn."
He racked the pump, chambering a shell.
"So, no."
Teodoro nodded sharply, and both he and Dr. Hillhurst hurried from the shed toward the kitchen entrance of the house. By the time they reached the living room—ducking behind the thick stone-and-timber walls near the front window—they could already hear the crunch of boots and rattle of metal approaching through the front yard.
Then came the blast.
A single shotgun roar echoed through the valley, scattering birds from the trees. Hutchinson lowered the weapon, teeth clenched and gun smoking as his posse spread out from behind him to his flanks.
"HILLHURST, YOU CHARLATAN! SHOW YOURSELF! I WANT MY GUN BACK, YOU DAMN SNAKE!"
Behind the window, Teodoro raised an eyebrow. "What gun?"
Dr. Hillhurst casually drew the polished M1899 from inside his coat and handed it over. Teodoro turned it over in his hands and gave a subtle nod.
"I see why he's angry."
The silence from the house seemed to goad Hutchinson further. He raised his shotgun again, voice cracking from rage.
"FINE THEN!"
Pointing his barrel down the right side of the house, he barked orders. "Emmett, Sean, Kelsey—you circle to the back!"
Then, gesturing to the other side, he barked: "Horace, Max, Ivan—you're with me! We're going in loud!"
But before his men could take a step, a sharp crack split the air like lightning.
Hutchinson screamed in pain, stumbling forward and dropping his shotgun. Clutching his rear like it was aflame, he rolled onto his side, gasping and whimpering.
Behind them, SheHaw recalled and coiled her whip with ease.
"Howdy, fellas," she said coolly. "I don't seem to recall any of y'all being deputized, or any warrants issued. So what brings you to a man's home with steel drawn?"
Teodoro stared out the window, eyes narrowing at the pink-clad woman standing tall with a coiled whip in hand.
"…Who is that?"
Dr. Hillhurst let out a deep, audible sigh.
"Sweet relief, my good man."
Outside, the armed men turned their weapons toward SheHaw as Hutchinson staggered upright, fury burning through his bruised jaw.
"This ain't none of your concern, woman!"
"Oh, it's plenty my concern," SheHaw called back, whip in one hand, stance defiant. "Now come on, boys—leave the doctor be. No reason for this to get messy."
Already sore and losing face, Hutchinson snapped, his voice ragged. "That fraud's no doctor! And the fact you call him one says plenty!"
He leveled his gun at her. "HILLHURST! COME OUT HERE OR WE'LL KILL YOUR WOMAN TOO!"
Inside, both SheHaw and Dr. Hillhurst grimaced at the very with disgust.
"I'd rather be shot dead than be called that man's woman!" SheHaw fired back without missing a beat.
Dr. Hillhurst was of a similar thought. "I'd rather be shot dead than be any woman's man…"
Hutchinson barked an order. "Ivan—grab her before she tries anything!"
Ivan, the largest of the crew—a bald, barrel-chested brute with a braided beard—stomped forward, fists twitching.
One of the younger posse members, Emmett, shifted uneasily.
"Uh, Hutchinson? Ain't SheHaw basically the sheriff?" He asked.
"She ain't no sheriff! She's a pink flamingo who thinks she's handy with a whip!" Hutchinson snapped.
As Ivan loomed over her, SheHaw looked up with a calm warning in her eyes. "Big fella, I wouldn't go puttin' hands on a lady, now."
Emmett took a step forward, more panicked. "Ivan, wait—don't antagonize her, she's—"
Ivan sneered. "In old country, we remind women of place with hand."
Then he struck her.
The blow echoed like a hammer on steel. SheHaw's head turned slightly, but her stance held. She didn't fall. She didn't flinch.
Inside the house, both Dr. Hillhurst and Teodoro instinctively winced.
Ivan's smirk evaporated. His hand trembled. He recoiled, grabbing his wrist with wide eyes—his bones buzzing with pain.
It felt like he'd slapped a statue of bronze coated in velvet. Something was very, very wrong.
His eyes widened when she glanced sideways at him, their gazes locking. She heaved a sigh.
"… Welp."
SheHaw pivoted and uppercut Ivan with a rising blow so fast and precise it was as if time skipped a beat. The brute's feet left the ground. He tumbled end-over-end through the air, over the heads of Hutchinson and the posse, and landed flat on his back with a solid thud—right at the foot of Dr. Hillhurst's front porch.
Inside, Teodoro, who had already leveled his shotgun, eased off.
"Some relief."
Dr. Hillhurst smirked, pleased.
"For us, not them."
Outside, the posse froze in horror at Ivan's limp body.
The shock didn't last, as SheHaw exploded forward.
She slammed her fist into the jaw of the man beside Sean—Kelsey—and he collapsed like a sack of bricks. Horace, trying to raise his pistol, got it wrenched downward by SheHaw's grip, just in time to catch a spinning backhand across his cheek.
Emmett blinked at the sight, whispered a "Nope," and broke into a full sprint—booking it back up the hill.
Hutchinson and his last two men—Sean and Max—raised their weapons just in time to catch the full fury of SheHaw's twin whips. With a single spiraling spin, she lashed both braided cords outward. The crack of the strikes hit like gunshots, and both men dropped.
That left Hutchinson.
"YOU DAMN MONSTER WOMAN!" he roared, letting off a panicked blast from his shotgun.
She charged straight through it, buckshot splashing off her body like raindrops.
Before he could rack the next round, she seized him by the neck, lifted him clean off the ground, and planted him spine-first into the dirt.
Hutchinson, stunned, lay frozen on the ground, staring at the sky. The dust hadn't even settled when SheHaw stepped on and ground the heel of her boot into the side of his face.
"From flamingo to 'monster,'" she said coolly, leaning closer. "Why don't you show a little more respect to the woman who just saved your life, Abner?"
With a grunt of pain, Hutchinson spat, "Saved…? You saved his…!"
Dr. Hillhurst, shotgun against his shoulder, strolled out with Teodoro behind him.
"Oh no, Mr. Hutchinson. Rest assured—if you stepped into my home, you and your boys would be leaving very dead."
He glanced to the edge of the road, watching Emmett flee. "Although… it seems you did miss one."
SheHaw turned, catching sight of the retreating man. From her belt, she drew a dark pink hair comb with a handle curved into the shape of a boomerang.
"Just a sec," she said.
She hurled the comb. Spinning, it arced cleanly through the air, a glittering blur, towards the back of Emmet's head—
THWACK!
He dropped like a sack of potatoes.
The comb spun back, and SheHaw caught it midair without missing a beat.
"Ted, go collect the young man," Dr. Hillhurst said as he accepted a length of rope from SheHaw, "so we can get these gentlemen tied up and carted back to town."
"Is that a good idea?" Teodoro asked, walking toward the unconscious Emmett.
"If I had my way," the doctor called after him, "they'd all be dead and cooling somewhere on my property. But alas, I'm burdened by decency."
SheHaw shot him a look. "I appreciate you shouldering it."
Together, the trio moved methodically, hoisting each man to his feet. One by one, they blindfolded the dazed attackers, bound their wrists, and tied the ends of their lead to the back of Sheila's saddle.
"I'm taking these boys into town," SheHaw said, climbing onto her horse. "They'll cool their heads in a cell."
Dr. Hillhurst leaned on his cane. "You truly are a gem, SheHaw."
"You two gonna be all right?"
"We'll manage," he replied.
Teodoro said nothing, but his eyes lingered on the bound men—watchful, weighing.
"Just holler if you need me," she added as she adjusted her reins. "I'll hear it from downtown."
With that, she rode off, her unusual chain of prisoners trailing behind. Both men stood silent as she descended the hill.
"She's naïve," Teodoro finally said.
Dr. Hillhurst sighed. "She's not naïve, she's made a deliberate vow to never take a life."
"…Why?" Teodoro asked, genuinely puzzled.
The doctor smiled faintly. "Well, for one, as long as she's wearing that ridiculous getup, twelve-gauge buckshot at point-blank may as well be birdshot from five hundred yards."
The young man scowled at SheHaw's retreating form, then turned to Dr. Hillhurst. "Who do those men work for?"
"Hm?" Dr. Hillhurst gave a short breath. There was no use being coy. "Emily Blakesfield-Bonner. Los Angeles' rising oil tycoon. You've likely seen her derricks scattered across the countryside on your way here—most of them are hers. The oil's made her family obscenely rich, even more than they already were."
Teodoro didn't seem surprised that one of the region's most powerful figures was a woman. "Why are you and she at odds?"
"Because she's a vulture," Dr. Hillhurst answered bluntly. "Echo Creek used to be a proper town—before she tore it down and turned it into an oil field."
He turned and headed toward the house. "And if you don't give her what she wants, she sends men like Hutchinson to take it. From your cold, dead hands if necessary."
A dark thought flickered in Dr. Hillhurst's expression, a ghost of a memory. A bitter conversation in a shotgun shack on the edge of the world.
He tightened his jaw for a moment, and shook his head.
"It is, to the horror of some, the human condition."
Once SheHaw was out of sight, Teodoro followed. "I disagree."
"Oh?" Dr. Hillhurst looked back over his shoulder.
"Evil people are rare, but they cast long shadows.," Teodoro said. "They die, and their evil dies with them."
Dr. Hillhurst grimaced as he stepped up to the porch. "If it were so simple, I'd take an axe to that entire family tree myself."
He paused, turned, and regarded the younger man. "But it takes more than killing to uproot what truly poisons a place."
Teodoro frowned. "So what would it take?"
Dr. Hillhurst gave a tired, sardonic smile. "For me to have as much money as Ms. Blakesfield-Bonner, honestly."
Teodoro stared at him, not quite sure if he was joking.
A booming crack shattered the quiet of Echo Creek, turning heads and sending horses skittering in panic. But it came from neither gunshot nor SheHaw's whip. Just down the street from the saloon and post office, one of Emily Blakesfield-Bonner's newest oil derricks had collapsed in spectacular fashion.
The noise drew a sizable crowd of locals—who fell silent and parted like wheat before a scythe when she stepped onto the scene herself.
Striding past them in a long burgundy skirt and ivory gloves, Emily surveyed the splintered wreckage of the drill and its surrounding derrick with no small annoyance.
At the center of the commotion stood the befuddled foreman, scratching his blonde head with four fingers while clutching his fedora between thumb and index like a child caught in a storm. He didn't even notice her approach until she spoke.
"Mr. Armberg, what in Heaven's name happened?!"
He flinched and turned. "Ms. Bonner! It's… it's bad. We hit something. About twenty feet down. Drill bit overheated and snapped clean off."
"Twenty—" she began, stopping herself mid-word. A flash of irritation crossed her porcelain features before she recomposed. "Then dig it up."
"Yes ma'am. We'll have it cleared by morning."
Before she could follow up, Mr. Armberg stared over her shoulder. "Uh… ma'am? Is that Hutchinson?"
Emily turned.
Sure enough, down the main street rode SheHaw, tall in the saddle, trailing a string of beaten and bound men behind her like a pink-clad reaper. The crowd stirred, whispering as the town's most infamous vigilante led local men—known for keeping the law—straight to jail. Chief among them: an unconscious Hutchinson, slung over her horse like a sack of meal.
Emily gathered the front of her skirt in her hands as she turned sharply and stormed over.
"SheHaw! What is the meaning of this?!"
The vigilante tipped her hat with the air of someone long used to drama. "Afternoon, Ms. Bonner. Just the lady I hoped to see. You'll never guess where I found your boys."
Emily's eyes narrowed at the state they were in. "Wherever they were, I assure you, it was not at my behest."
"Save your breath. An investigation'll make that clear." SheHaw gestured behind her. "What's clear already is these men came armed onto another man's land, and I stopped a massacre."
From the chain of prisoners, Emmett squawked. "W-we weren't gonna shoot anybody! It was Hutchinson's idea to go over and talk! He just wanted his gun back from Hillhurst!"
"Hillhurst?" Emily repeated, stunned.
Emmett's desperation poured out like a leak. "Please, Ms. Bonner! I can't go to jail! You know my Pa—he'd never forgive me!"
Emily's surprise turned to a look of calculation, then realization.
Her expression sharpened, as she spoke with a voice frigid and final to the young. "Shut up, I had no part in your foolishness, I will not absolve you of it."
She turned to SheHaw. "I have warned them to avoid that man plenty enough."
SheHaw huffed. "Without your consent."
Emily glanced once at Hutchinson's limp form, and leveled that cold gaze onto SheHaw.
"As you just said yourself, SheHaw: save your words. I await your investigation, and I will expect restitution for this attempt to tarnish my name."
Their gazes locked—Emily's iron to SheHaw's flame. The moment lingered, silent and razor-edged.
Finally, the vigilante gave a low "Giddyup, Sheila," and rode off leading her procession.
As she passed, Emmett cried out one last time, pale with terror. "Please don't tell my Pa…!"
Emily didn't answer. She turned back to Armberg and her crew. They'd wisely kept their eyes down.
None of them dared meet her gaze.
"Utter a word of what just occurred," Emily said, her voice like dry ice, "and you won't have to worry about this broken drill—because it won't be your problem to solve."
With that, she turned sharply and stormed toward the center of town, the crowd of onlookers quickly dispersing from her path to escape her cold, tightly coiled fury radiating from her with each step.
In the opposite direction, as SheHaw neared the jail, the man draped over her horse groaned and shifted.
"…Damn monster… can't leave well enough alone…"
"I could say the same for you," SheHaw replied flatly, not even turning to look at him. "Maybe a night in the can'll finally steer you off this path to destruction."
Hutchinson sneered, his voice thick with exhaustion. "You think there's a judge in this town who gives a damn we tried to string up that Skagway charlatan? We won't even see one—we'll be out before sundown."
SheHaw's lips thinned. "And if you go back there, I won't save you next time."
"You saved him."
She shook her head. "That man's more dangerous than you realize. If you keep poking him, he's going to poke back—harder. And if this keeps going back and forth there'll be nothing left but scorched earth and blood-soaked dirt."
"Then maybe you should go wrap your whip around Hillhurst's neck and yank until it snaps."
"That's nonsense," SheHaw said coldly. "Killing him would just make it easier for you to do whatever you want."
"To who?" Hutchinson snarled, raising his head just enough to look back. "A bunch of dirt farmers? Mexicans? Poor folks pretending it's still 1870?"
Even bruised and broken, he sneered. "It's time you started thinking about progress, about what's good for civilized folks—rational people—trying to bring order to this damn world."
SheHaw slowed her horse and looked out across what was once Echo Creek. A forest of oil derricks—jagged wood and steel skeletons—rising from the earth where once a town stood, spread across the land like rot.
Her hand gripped the reins tightly.
"… Is this what you call progress?"
Power comes in many forms.
= - = 9-1 = - =
|Power in Pink|
When Teodoro woke, the mid-morning sun was already slanting in through the high windows. The last thing he remembered was the meal he'd prepared in Dr. Hillhurst's kitchen the night before—and collapsing onto a bed in one of the house's guest rooms, full to the point of near-bursting.
He slipped from the blankets, set his feet on the hardwood floor, and looked out the window.
It was already so late. He normally did not wake so late, even on the road, and never at home.
A pain ached in him.
Home.
Closing his eyes, he took a deep breath to force it down, and rose to dress.
Descending the stairs into the grand, over-decorated foyer and walking into the sitting room moments later, he took in the details he hadn't noticed before: the antique organ dominating the far wall, the suit of medieval armor, and a dozen paintings of stormy landscapes and stern-faced men—making ridiculous faces.
He did a double take at those before his attention was drawn to the woman tending to a bruised and bloodied Dr. Hillhurst on the same couch where the "Doctor" had treated him.
The woman—with dark hair fading to blonde at the tips, and dressed in a simple white dress under a brown jacket—turned to him when she heard his arrival.
Her warm, hazel-colored eyes lit up. "Well, howdy. You must be the young man Al warned me about!"
She rose and offered her hand for a shake. "Jane. Jane Monroe. Pleasure's mine."
"What happened to him?" Teodoro asked, voice sharp even as he took her hand and shook it—in a fashion both measured, polite.
She hooked her other thumb over her shoulder at Dr. Hillhurst. "Al here got himself in a scrape down in town."
Teodoro's eyes flicked past her, narrow with concern. "Is he all right?"
"Oh, he'll be his ornery self again by supper. Don't you worry none," she assured. "How are you, darlin'? You were half-dead from exposure when he found you, wren't ya?"
"I was," Teodoro replied, flatly.
Jane blinked. "… You're blunt as a kick to the teeth, huh?"
"There's no point in mincing words."
She laughed loud and sudden, a surprised bark that nearly made him jump. "Oh, you two are gonna get along like a house on fire."
Teodoro wondered her meaning as Dr. Hillhurst, stirred by her laugh, groaned awake.
"Oh, Ted, you're awake. Ready to get that ammo made…?" He greeted groggily.
"Ready," Teodoro answered, clean and sharp.
"Excellent. In spite of various inconveniences, your order is in. Jane here was even kind enough to bring the first shipment—.45 and 7.63x25, as we discussed."
Jane nodded. "And there's more coming. By the time I'm back from town, ol' Backintosh'll have the next batch ready. I'll have it back here before sundown."
Dr. Hillhurst sat up slightly, wincing. "And I'll have the rounds requested ready by morning. Lucky for us, the bastards only went after my face—my hands are still good for a night of fine work."
Jane smirked. "That's what you tell all the ladies down at the saloon, huh?"
Teodoro flushed—his cheeks blooming a startled pink. That a woman would speak like that left him momentarily speechless.
"Oh, it's true," Dr. Hillhurst replied without missing a beat. "Ask any of the ladies. My needlework is impeccable—there's not a stitch I can't mend."
Trying to shake off his fluster, Teodoro pressed forward. "Who did this to you?"
"Remember those… troublesome dealings?"
He nodded once. "Tell me who. I'll handle them."
Jane raised an eyebrow. "Eager, aren't you?"
"I made a deal with him," Teodoro replied. "He was hurt upholding his end, and I will not let that rest on me."
"Trust me, son, Al would've taken that beating whether or not he was helping you," Jane said. "But I like your integrity."
"Thank you for the compliment," Teodoro said evenly, "but I still want to know who did this."
Jane glanced over at Dr. Hillhurst. "Zealous kid, huh?"
"In him burns a righteous flame," Dr. Hillhurst said, "and it will blaze regardless of any attempt to dissuade him. Regard him as a man, not a child, Jane."
Jane turned back to Teodoro. Looking at his face—so young, so fresh—but none of that youth reached his eyes.
Something about that hollow stare made her want to hug him tightly, an unfamiliar maternal urge that caught her off-guard and made her hesitate uncomfortably.
Dr. Hillhurst shifted, settling further back into the cushions. "I'll tell you what, my boy. Sooner or later, those contentious bastards will come to my doorstep again. When they do—they're yours."
Teodoro shook his head. "No. They're God's."
Jane was at a loss. The ease, the lack of hesitation to speak of such things—it chilled her.
"Just… don't make a habit of killing people on your land," she said quietly. "That'll only invite more trouble."
"There's only one way to deal with monsters," Teodoro said. "Thoroughly."
Jane opened her mouth to push back—but stopped. Instead, she sighed and walked to the door, snatching a weathered brown fedora from the rack.
"I'll leave the doctor to you. I've got my own troublesome dealings to tend to."
She exited briskly, the door slamming shut behind her.
Dr. Hillhurst groaned as he sat up straighter. "Pardon her, Teodoro. Jane does quite a bit of charitable work for the community, and bloodshed appalls her."
Teodoro looked toward the door, then back to him. "That's her concern."
Shaking his head, Dr. Hillhurst pushed himself to his feet. "Well, I'm rested enough, my vision's no longer doubled, and my bones are intact. Come on, lad. Let's talk while I show you the workshop."
Outside, Jane approached a pale brown horse tied to a trellis post, the saddle a dusty blend of pink and tan. She climbed into the stirrups.
"Come on, Sheila," she said gently, patting the horse's side. "Duty calls."
Moving up the dirt path, Jane guided her horse past the rows of Dr. Hillhurst's sprawling trellises until they gave way to the tall wild grasses beyond the vineyard.
As she scanned the open fields ahead of her, she slowed.
Her gaze was drawn toward a rise in the ground off to the right, eyes narrowing as she caught something—movement? A glint?
She frowned.
After moments of scrutiny, she looked away, ahead.
"… Get along now," she murmured to Sheila, giving her a light nudge.
She spared one final glance behind her right as the horse walked on, then looked down at the ring on her right hand index finger: a pink band with a diamond-studded silver "S." It shimmered in the light as she stared at it.
A few moments after horse and rider fell out of sight, a figure slowly rose from the tall grass she'd eyed. Hutchinson, his face purple with bruises and jaw held shut and swathed in gauze, looked back the way Jane rode, then down at Dr. Hillhurst's home.
"All right," he snarled through clenched teeth.
He hoisted a sawed-off Remington Model 1897 into both hands as one by one, six more men rose beside him—guns drawn, holsters unlatched, shotguns at the ready.
"We're putting an end to this once and for all."
@@@@@
Taking his cane from beside the door, Dr. Hillhurst headed out and motioned for Teodoro to follow. "Come along—I'll show you the shed."
Teodoro followed closely behind, like a duckling trailing its mother. Dr. Hillhurst led him around the side of the house to a sizable outbuilding tucked behind the main house. He opened the door to reveal a well-equipped gunsmith's workshop.
Inside, rows of firearms lined the walls: shotguns, lever-action rifles, and revolvers in varying states of construction and repair. The smithing table was covered in tools and small parts, and beside it sat two heavy buckets—both filled with freshly acquired brass casings.
Teodoro's eyes widened. "You have so many…"
"I do make weapons for my neighbors," Dr. Hillhurst said, stepping inside. "Because without the means to defend it, liberty is just a privilege waiting to be taken."
Teodoro nodded. "You need more than having guns for that, though."
Dr. Hillhurst gave a tired smile. "Far more."
He settled into a swiveling chair, then turned to face the boy with one of the .45 casings in hand. "But let's not talk about my guns. Let's talk about yours."
Teodoro met his gaze.
"There's something I've been meaning to ask, friend. What's your association with Avalon Armeros?"
"I don't know them personally," Teodoro replied without hesitation. "But my father bought my weapons from them."
"The Mauser and the Colt?"
He nodded. "Yes."
"Can you tell me more? About your family?"
Teodoro paused, and stood still for a moment. Dr. Hillhurst watched as his empty expression still managed to darken with what was no doubt a storm of recent memories raging behind his all-but unblinking eyes.
What felt like an eternity, Teodoro took a long, deep breath. In—and out.
"We hunt monsters," he answered plainly. "We have since we arrived in Mexico two hundred years ago—and before that, in Spain. We have never known peace, and never will, not as long as monsters draw breath."
He said it so mechanically, like he'd been told it a thousand times.
From someone he listened to unconditionally.
Dr. Hillhurst felt a pang of guilt, as he realized he may have set off something in the man with his question. Still, he pressed on.
"Real monsters, not men acting like them."
"There is little difference," Teodoro said darkly. "But I've seen both. Werewolves. Vampires. Demons. The dead who won't stay dead…"
He drew the revolver from his right holster, flipped it in his hand and held it out to Dr. Hillhurst, grip-first.
The gesture surprised the "Doctor", but he took the gun carefully and examined it.
"The bullets we use aren't just silver. They poison. They strip power from the unnatural—weakening them until they're no more dangerous than a man. Then they die."
Dr. Hillhurst turned to the Mauser holstered on the boy's left side. "And the Mauser?"
"I use that when I don't want to waste silver," Teodoro replied.
"Logical." Dr. Hillhurst smirked. "How handy are you with steel?"
"I rarely miss with my pistols," Teodoro admitted. "But they're not my strength."
"No?"
"My strength is the rifle. And the saber. I've hidden them both… in case you couldn't be trusted."
"Smart," Dr. Hillhurst said, a little impressed.
Teodoro paused. Then, almost imperceptibly, he smiled.
"… But I think I can trust you."
"Oh?" Dr. Hillhurst raised an eyebrow. "You've seemed a touch wary, until now."
"I collapsed on your doorstep and awoke with water, shade, and a cool rag on my forehead," Teodoro said. "You could've stripped me of everything I had and left me to die—but you didn't. You saw my silver, my guns… and still never once considered betraying me."
Dr. Hillhurst let out a low chuckle as he handed the revolver back. "Well. Within five minutes of meeting you, I understood two things: first, monsters exist—and you kill them. Second, if I'd tried to rob you, even while you were half-dead… you'd have still found a way to kill me first."
The smirk on Teodoro's face widened ever so slightly as he holstered his weapon.
"Smart."
Dr. Hillhurst laughed lightly. "Let's get to work on that order of yours. I'll need to melt down the silver first."
"I can do it," Teodoro offered. "My father taught me how."
That caught the doctor's attention. "A man of many trades. All right then—the forge is outside. Think you can manage it?"
Teodoro stood. "It shouldn't be difficult."
He only took two steps past the door before something caught his attention. His sharp eyes tracked movement up the vineyard path—and he spotted Hutchinson and his men just coming into view before the corner of the house broke line of sight.
He stepped back inside quickly.
Dr. Hillhurst turned, surprised at his sudden return. "Something wrong?"
"There are armed men approaching the house," Teodoro said flatly. "They didn't see me."
The doctor's face fell into a grim line. "How many?"
"Seven."
"Were any of them bandaged around the head?"
"Yes. The one leading them."
"Damn it, Hutchinson… you've been warned enough."
Without further discussion, Dr. Hillhurst rose and moved to the wall of finished firearms. He reached for a lever-action shotgun, thought better of it, and swapped it for a pump-action model. He tossed another to Teodoro, along with a box of shells.
"Here you go, lad. Looks like we've got some of those troublesome dealings to settle."
With quick, precise movements, Teodoro chambered a round, flipped the shotgun over, and loaded six more into the magazine tube. His hands were smooth, automatic. Dr. Hillhurst had only finished loading his second shell when Teodoro was finished.
"Do we warn them?" he asked, voice calm.
"They're on my property with guns drawn," Dr. Hillhurst replied, loading his third shell. "So, no."
Teodoro glanced out the window.
"Do we show mercy?"
Dr. Hillhurst didn't even look up. "They're on my property with guns drawn."
He racked the pump, chambering a shell.
"So, no."
Teodoro nodded sharply, and both he and Dr. Hillhurst hurried from the shed toward the kitchen entrance of the house. By the time they reached the living room—ducking behind the thick stone-and-timber walls near the front window—they could already hear the crunch of boots and rattle of metal approaching through the front yard.
Then came the blast.
A single shotgun roar echoed through the valley, scattering birds from the trees. Hutchinson lowered the weapon, teeth clenched and gun smoking as his posse spread out from behind him to his flanks.
"HILLHURST, YOU CHARLATAN! SHOW YOURSELF! I WANT MY GUN BACK, YOU DAMN SNAKE!"
Behind the window, Teodoro raised an eyebrow. "What gun?"
Dr. Hillhurst casually drew the polished M1899 from inside his coat and handed it over. Teodoro turned it over in his hands and gave a subtle nod.
"I see why he's angry."
The silence from the house seemed to goad Hutchinson further. He raised his shotgun again, voice cracking from rage.
"FINE THEN!"
Pointing his barrel down the right side of the house, he barked orders. "Emmett, Sean, Kelsey—you circle to the back!"
Then, gesturing to the other side, he barked: "Horace, Max, Ivan—you're with me! We're going in loud!"
But before his men could take a step, a sharp crack split the air like lightning.
Hutchinson screamed in pain, stumbling forward and dropping his shotgun. Clutching his rear like it was aflame, he rolled onto his side, gasping and whimpering.
Behind them, SheHaw recalled and coiled her whip with ease.
"Howdy, fellas," she said coolly. "I don't seem to recall any of y'all being deputized, or any warrants issued. So what brings you to a man's home with steel drawn?"
Teodoro stared out the window, eyes narrowing at the pink-clad woman standing tall with a coiled whip in hand.
"…Who is that?"
Dr. Hillhurst let out a deep, audible sigh.
"Sweet relief, my good man."
Outside, the armed men turned their weapons toward SheHaw as Hutchinson staggered upright, fury burning through his bruised jaw.
"This ain't none of your concern, woman!"
"Oh, it's plenty my concern," SheHaw called back, whip in one hand, stance defiant. "Now come on, boys—leave the doctor be. No reason for this to get messy."
Already sore and losing face, Hutchinson snapped, his voice ragged. "That fraud's no doctor! And the fact you call him one says plenty!"
He leveled his gun at her. "HILLHURST! COME OUT HERE OR WE'LL KILL YOUR WOMAN TOO!"
Inside, both SheHaw and Dr. Hillhurst grimaced at the very with disgust.
"I'd rather be shot dead than be called that man's woman!" SheHaw fired back without missing a beat.
Dr. Hillhurst was of a similar thought. "I'd rather be shot dead than be any woman's man…"
Hutchinson barked an order. "Ivan—grab her before she tries anything!"
Ivan, the largest of the crew—a bald, barrel-chested brute with a braided beard—stomped forward, fists twitching.
One of the younger posse members, Emmett, shifted uneasily.
"Uh, Hutchinson? Ain't SheHaw basically the sheriff?" He asked.
"She ain't no sheriff! She's a pink flamingo who thinks she's handy with a whip!" Hutchinson snapped.
As Ivan loomed over her, SheHaw looked up with a calm warning in her eyes. "Big fella, I wouldn't go puttin' hands on a lady, now."
Emmett took a step forward, more panicked. "Ivan, wait—don't antagonize her, she's—"
Ivan sneered. "In old country, we remind women of place with hand."
Then he struck her.
The blow echoed like a hammer on steel. SheHaw's head turned slightly, but her stance held. She didn't fall. She didn't flinch.
Inside the house, both Dr. Hillhurst and Teodoro instinctively winced.
Ivan's smirk evaporated. His hand trembled. He recoiled, grabbing his wrist with wide eyes—his bones buzzing with pain.
It felt like he'd slapped a statue of bronze coated in velvet. Something was very, very wrong.
His eyes widened when she glanced sideways at him, their gazes locking. She heaved a sigh.
"… Welp."
SheHaw pivoted and uppercut Ivan with a rising blow so fast and precise it was as if time skipped a beat. The brute's feet left the ground. He tumbled end-over-end through the air, over the heads of Hutchinson and the posse, and landed flat on his back with a solid thud—right at the foot of Dr. Hillhurst's front porch.
Inside, Teodoro, who had already leveled his shotgun, eased off.
"Some relief."
Dr. Hillhurst smirked, pleased.
"For us, not them."
Outside, the posse froze in horror at Ivan's limp body.
The shock didn't last, as SheHaw exploded forward.
She slammed her fist into the jaw of the man beside Sean—Kelsey—and he collapsed like a sack of bricks. Horace, trying to raise his pistol, got it wrenched downward by SheHaw's grip, just in time to catch a spinning backhand across his cheek.
Emmett blinked at the sight, whispered a "Nope," and broke into a full sprint—booking it back up the hill.
Hutchinson and his last two men—Sean and Max—raised their weapons just in time to catch the full fury of SheHaw's twin whips. With a single spiraling spin, she lashed both braided cords outward. The crack of the strikes hit like gunshots, and both men dropped.
That left Hutchinson.
"YOU DAMN MONSTER WOMAN!" he roared, letting off a panicked blast from his shotgun.
She charged straight through it, buckshot splashing off her body like raindrops.
Before he could rack the next round, she seized him by the neck, lifted him clean off the ground, and planted him spine-first into the dirt.
Hutchinson, stunned, lay frozen on the ground, staring at the sky. The dust hadn't even settled when SheHaw stepped on and ground the heel of her boot into the side of his face.
"From flamingo to 'monster,'" she said coolly, leaning closer. "Why don't you show a little more respect to the woman who just saved your life, Abner?"
With a grunt of pain, Hutchinson spat, "Saved…? You saved his…!"
Dr. Hillhurst, shotgun against his shoulder, strolled out with Teodoro behind him.
"Oh no, Mr. Hutchinson. Rest assured—if you stepped into my home, you and your boys would be leaving very dead."
He glanced to the edge of the road, watching Emmett flee. "Although… it seems you did miss one."
SheHaw turned, catching sight of the retreating man. From her belt, she drew a dark pink hair comb with a handle curved into the shape of a boomerang.
"Just a sec," she said.
She hurled the comb. Spinning, it arced cleanly through the air, a glittering blur, towards the back of Emmet's head—
THWACK!
He dropped like a sack of potatoes.
The comb spun back, and SheHaw caught it midair without missing a beat.
"Ted, go collect the young man," Dr. Hillhurst said as he accepted a length of rope from SheHaw, "so we can get these gentlemen tied up and carted back to town."
"Is that a good idea?" Teodoro asked, walking toward the unconscious Emmett.
"If I had my way," the doctor called after him, "they'd all be dead and cooling somewhere on my property. But alas, I'm burdened by decency."
SheHaw shot him a look. "I appreciate you shouldering it."
Together, the trio moved methodically, hoisting each man to his feet. One by one, they blindfolded the dazed attackers, bound their wrists, and tied the ends of their lead to the back of Sheila's saddle.
"I'm taking these boys into town," SheHaw said, climbing onto her horse. "They'll cool their heads in a cell."
Dr. Hillhurst leaned on his cane. "You truly are a gem, SheHaw."
"You two gonna be all right?"
"We'll manage," he replied.
Teodoro said nothing, but his eyes lingered on the bound men—watchful, weighing.
"Just holler if you need me," she added as she adjusted her reins. "I'll hear it from downtown."
With that, she rode off, her unusual chain of prisoners trailing behind. Both men stood silent as she descended the hill.
"She's naïve," Teodoro finally said.
Dr. Hillhurst sighed. "She's not naïve, she's made a deliberate vow to never take a life."
"…Why?" Teodoro asked, genuinely puzzled.
The doctor smiled faintly. "Well, for one, as long as she's wearing that ridiculous getup, twelve-gauge buckshot at point-blank may as well be birdshot from five hundred yards."
The young man scowled at SheHaw's retreating form, then turned to Dr. Hillhurst. "Who do those men work for?"
"Hm?" Dr. Hillhurst gave a short breath. There was no use being coy. "Emily Blakesfield-Bonner. Los Angeles' rising oil tycoon. You've likely seen her derricks scattered across the countryside on your way here—most of them are hers. The oil's made her family obscenely rich, even more than they already were."
Teodoro didn't seem surprised that one of the region's most powerful figures was a woman. "Why are you and she at odds?"
"Because she's a vulture," Dr. Hillhurst answered bluntly. "Echo Creek used to be a proper town—before she tore it down and turned it into an oil field."
He turned and headed toward the house. "And if you don't give her what she wants, she sends men like Hutchinson to take it. From your cold, dead hands if necessary."
A dark thought flickered in Dr. Hillhurst's expression, a ghost of a memory. A bitter conversation in a shotgun shack on the edge of the world.
He tightened his jaw for a moment, and shook his head.
"It is, to the horror of some, the human condition."
Once SheHaw was out of sight, Teodoro followed. "I disagree."
"Oh?" Dr. Hillhurst looked back over his shoulder.
"Evil people are rare, but they cast long shadows.," Teodoro said. "They die, and their evil dies with them."
Dr. Hillhurst grimaced as he stepped up to the porch. "If it were so simple, I'd take an axe to that entire family tree myself."
He paused, turned, and regarded the younger man. "But it takes more than killing to uproot what truly poisons a place."
Teodoro frowned. "So what would it take?"
Dr. Hillhurst gave a tired, sardonic smile. "For me to have as much money as Ms. Blakesfield-Bonner, honestly."
Teodoro stared at him, not quite sure if he was joking.
@@@@@
A booming crack shattered the quiet of Echo Creek, turning heads and sending horses skittering in panic. But it came from neither gunshot nor SheHaw's whip. Just down the street from the saloon and post office, one of Emily Blakesfield-Bonner's newest oil derricks had collapsed in spectacular fashion.
The noise drew a sizable crowd of locals—who fell silent and parted like wheat before a scythe when she stepped onto the scene herself.
Striding past them in a long burgundy skirt and ivory gloves, Emily surveyed the splintered wreckage of the drill and its surrounding derrick with no small annoyance.
At the center of the commotion stood the befuddled foreman, scratching his blonde head with four fingers while clutching his fedora between thumb and index like a child caught in a storm. He didn't even notice her approach until she spoke.
"Mr. Armberg, what in Heaven's name happened?!"
He flinched and turned. "Ms. Bonner! It's… it's bad. We hit something. About twenty feet down. Drill bit overheated and snapped clean off."
"Twenty—" she began, stopping herself mid-word. A flash of irritation crossed her porcelain features before she recomposed. "Then dig it up."
"Yes ma'am. We'll have it cleared by morning."
Before she could follow up, Mr. Armberg stared over her shoulder. "Uh… ma'am? Is that Hutchinson?"
Emily turned.
Sure enough, down the main street rode SheHaw, tall in the saddle, trailing a string of beaten and bound men behind her like a pink-clad reaper. The crowd stirred, whispering as the town's most infamous vigilante led local men—known for keeping the law—straight to jail. Chief among them: an unconscious Hutchinson, slung over her horse like a sack of meal.
Emily gathered the front of her skirt in her hands as she turned sharply and stormed over.
"SheHaw! What is the meaning of this?!"
The vigilante tipped her hat with the air of someone long used to drama. "Afternoon, Ms. Bonner. Just the lady I hoped to see. You'll never guess where I found your boys."
Emily's eyes narrowed at the state they were in. "Wherever they were, I assure you, it was not at my behest."
"Save your breath. An investigation'll make that clear." SheHaw gestured behind her. "What's clear already is these men came armed onto another man's land, and I stopped a massacre."
From the chain of prisoners, Emmett squawked. "W-we weren't gonna shoot anybody! It was Hutchinson's idea to go over and talk! He just wanted his gun back from Hillhurst!"
"Hillhurst?" Emily repeated, stunned.
Emmett's desperation poured out like a leak. "Please, Ms. Bonner! I can't go to jail! You know my Pa—he'd never forgive me!"
Emily's surprise turned to a look of calculation, then realization.
Her expression sharpened, as she spoke with a voice frigid and final to the young. "Shut up, I had no part in your foolishness, I will not absolve you of it."
She turned to SheHaw. "I have warned them to avoid that man plenty enough."
SheHaw huffed. "Without your consent."
Emily glanced once at Hutchinson's limp form, and leveled that cold gaze onto SheHaw.
"As you just said yourself, SheHaw: save your words. I await your investigation, and I will expect restitution for this attempt to tarnish my name."
Their gazes locked—Emily's iron to SheHaw's flame. The moment lingered, silent and razor-edged.
Finally, the vigilante gave a low "Giddyup, Sheila," and rode off leading her procession.
As she passed, Emmett cried out one last time, pale with terror. "Please don't tell my Pa…!"
Emily didn't answer. She turned back to Armberg and her crew. They'd wisely kept their eyes down.
None of them dared meet her gaze.
"Utter a word of what just occurred," Emily said, her voice like dry ice, "and you won't have to worry about this broken drill—because it won't be your problem to solve."
With that, she turned sharply and stormed toward the center of town, the crowd of onlookers quickly dispersing from her path to escape her cold, tightly coiled fury radiating from her with each step.
In the opposite direction, as SheHaw neared the jail, the man draped over her horse groaned and shifted.
"…Damn monster… can't leave well enough alone…"
"I could say the same for you," SheHaw replied flatly, not even turning to look at him. "Maybe a night in the can'll finally steer you off this path to destruction."
Hutchinson sneered, his voice thick with exhaustion. "You think there's a judge in this town who gives a damn we tried to string up that Skagway charlatan? We won't even see one—we'll be out before sundown."
SheHaw's lips thinned. "And if you go back there, I won't save you next time."
"You saved him."
She shook her head. "That man's more dangerous than you realize. If you keep poking him, he's going to poke back—harder. And if this keeps going back and forth there'll be nothing left but scorched earth and blood-soaked dirt."
"Then maybe you should go wrap your whip around Hillhurst's neck and yank until it snaps."
"That's nonsense," SheHaw said coldly. "Killing him would just make it easier for you to do whatever you want."
"To who?" Hutchinson snarled, raising his head just enough to look back. "A bunch of dirt farmers? Mexicans? Poor folks pretending it's still 1870?"
Even bruised and broken, he sneered. "It's time you started thinking about progress, about what's good for civilized folks—rational people—trying to bring order to this damn world."
SheHaw slowed her horse and looked out across what was once Echo Creek. A forest of oil derricks—jagged wood and steel skeletons—rising from the earth where once a town stood, spread across the land like rot.
Her hand gripped the reins tightly.
"… Is this what you call progress?"
= - = 9-1 = - =
Power comes in many forms.
The Ero-Sennin
Shitposter no more
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I'm afraid that's a you situation.
EvaUnit01
The man who stands at the top of AAWWEESSOOOMEEE
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Gonna need you to be more specific about what you don't understand.