Eye for an Eye

[Android 17]

Seventeen stumbled his way through the white land.  Despite being alive, he felt increasingly sluggish with almost every single step he took.
 
The hell is this place!
 
The cyborg held back a frown as he paused and look at what lay before him.  He was about a mile, mile and a half from the fountain, and in front of him, he could spot at least three grayish walls on the horizon.
 
Not walls... The center was a different color. Doors? Passageway?
 
While his muscles were still stiff, the machine-hybrid managed to traverse the last mile or so that separated him from the door-looking shape.  As he drew closer, he could confirm his suspicion that he was looking at a big old archway.  Dull gray stone outlined an area that seemed to shimmer as he drew closer to it.  With a faint smile, he walked up to the arch and started to reach out toward the wavering white wall.  He stopped right before his fingers brushed against the surface and paused for a thought.
 
What’s the worst that can happen?
 
“I mean, Death Number 8 probably won’t be any worse than the first three.”
 
Wait, does the last one count? The thought made the young man twist up his lips and furrow his brow.  Technically, he’d resigned himself to oblivion, but there hadn’t been that wonderful split-second burst of horrifying, skull-splitting agony that usually came before the darkness.  Then again, the prospect of being able to make a lot of ‘nine lives’ jokes probably would make any accidental death worth the cost.
 
So the man leaned forward and let his hand touch the surface.  Upon impact, it met no resistance and passed through to whatever lay on the other side.
 
Can still feel it. Seventeen wiggled the fingers he couldn’t see and grinned at the familiar sensation of skin brushing against skin.  After clutching his bony digits into a fist, he stepped through whatever the wall was made out of and into whatever lay beyond it.
 
At once, the machine-hybrid’s eyes and nose were assaulted by a mixture of sulfur and ash.  A forearm moved over the top half of his visage as his other hand clamped over his mouth and nose.  For a few moments, he just stood there as the new environment washed over him—dousing him in whatever unnatural blend of dust and particulate floated in the air.  When he finally dropped his arm and hand, he found himself partially amused by the scene in front of him.
 
Hell?
 
All the tropes were there:  Active volcanoes, lava-filled cracks in the ground, and a black-red skyline that could fill any sinner with instant regret.
 
Unfortunately, the artist here was missing some of the details.  Hell was a little darker than this place, and there was just a little more red involved in the equation.  If this was supposed to be the Underworld, it was the poor man’s edition.
 
In the cyborg’s head, words that didn’t belong to his thoughts passed through. ‘This is not the world you know…’

[Android 17]

“Right, this is ‘the Omniverse’,” Seventeen muttered as he turned back to the doorway. Before he’d come this way, he’d seen at least two other gray shapes on the horizon, which meant the white world must have had a lot of exits. Maybe one of them was a place with a little less fire and brimstone? “Yea, let’s take door number two.”

The raven-haired warrior moved to head back to the Fountain area, but before he had the chance to exit, a gruff voice called to him. “You okay, Buddy?”

At the sound of the man, Seventeen paused mid-twist and turned to see a disgruntled-looking individual crouched over the remnants of a broken wagon. Although they were the only ones in the area, the machine-hybrid placed a hand on his chest. “Me? Yea, I’m good. Y’know, I just like to enjoy the paranormal view. It’s very nice this time of year.”

A grin spread across the man’s stubble-coated countenance. “You look about a fresh as I’ve seen them come… you either running from something or you still haven’t figure out how to summon new clothes.”

Now wholly interested in the words coming from his new friend, Seventeen turned to face him and lifted a brow. “You’re the second person to say something like that to me in the last…”—the cyborg glanced down at a watch that didn’t exist—“Ten minutes?”

“So you’re a prime?” The man questioned as he pulled apart what seemed to be a partially ruined box and scowled at the contents.

“Sure?” Seventeen said as he started to walk toward the man. As he drew closer, he realized that his friend must have been some type of merchant. His wagon, which now sported barely a wheel and a half between both of its axels, was loaded with small wooden cases. From a quick glance, many of them were scuffed, splintered, or altogether busted in one place or another. A few of the more shattered ones were spilling out some sort of white powder or grain, and from the size of the cart, it was obvious it probably could have carried a few more cases.

“You land hard?” The man asked as he tried to push together the shattered parts of a box. All he accomplished was to let more of the contents spill out on the ground around him. “Damn.” He grunted as he set the pieces in the wagon.

Seventeen stopped a few yards away and dropped down to the same level of the man. “Yea, let’s just assume that.” While he hadn’t lost any memories, the machine-hybrid certainly didn’t know what the fuck was going on to him since his plummet into the crumbling galaxy. “I’m trying to put together a puzzle, and I think the cat swiped a few of the pieces.”

The man shook his head even as a smile spread across his face. “You’re in the Omniverse, bud. You see the white guy at all? Maybe he told you some stuff that’s kind of blurry or jumbled… like a video that won’t stop buffering?” The cyborg nodded his head. “Yea, you’re a prime. Means you can work omnilium with your thoughts.”

“Omnilium?”

“You must have hit your head hard. I heard he shows you it before he lets you wake up.”

“He?”

“White guy. Omni. He created this place and pulls all you primes here.” The man remarked as he started to silently count up his containers.

“Are you a prime?” Seventeen asked as he reached down and touched the ground beneath his feet. I don’t have boots… how did I not notice that? Like he’d expected, the soil was borderline barren, and even wiggling his toes did little but knock up little puffs of dust. When he did glance up, his acquaintance was shaking his head.

“A prime summoned me… I’m a secondary. Primes can summon things and people and even abstract stuff like abilities.”

Seventeen furrowed his brow. “Sounds silly.”

A laugh came out of the man’s throat, and much to Seventeen’s amusement, that single laugh became nearly a half minute of full-bodied guffaws before his new friend regained his composure. “Damn, I don’t think I’ve laughed like that in a few days.” He said before wiping some moisture from the corners of his eyes. “Silly? You don’t know the half of it, yet. They got a place that’s just all ice on the other side, and then there’s the one that’s just a giant forest with a town filled with talking ponies.”

“Talking ponies?”

The man nodded his head. “Fucking talking ponies, my friend. Then you got Count Dracula.”

The android scowled. “Like the guy in the movies?” His friend nodded and grinned. “You’re shitting me, aren’t you?”

“Not even,” the man responded. “You’re the first person I’ve met who’s read that book. Most people just think I’m crazy.”

You come from a world where people can get strong enough to blow up planets, dumb ass.

[Android 17]

“Yea,” Seventeen muttered in response. “So this place is like some kind of weird cosmic melting pot? And the white guy with the rainbow ball brought us all here for something?”

The man shrugged his shoulders. “No one knows. Rumor has it that Omni lives in some secret place and only a few people have seen him. Two of them help run Darkshire.”

Seventeen shook his hands. “Yea yea, neat, but what does this mean for me?”

A soft laugh escaped his new pal. “You weren’t some kind of god where you came from, right? I hear those types have the hardest time adjusting when they come here.” The cyborg leaned back and scowled, which caused the other man to let out a few hearty laughs. “You were, weren’t you!”

“Shove it,” Seventeen spat back, although his tone was about as far as one can get from anger. Even so, his new friend just continued to laugh for a few more moments before once more regaining his composure.

“Well if you were, you can expect close to nothing. Everyone loses everything when they wake up in the Fountain of Infinity. Omni wants you to work for something, after all.”

With a smile, Seventeen tore off a stray strand of his jeans. “The guy could have at least given me some fresh clothes.”

“Eh, you can make new ones. You just have to focus and like, visualize that stuff. Apparently that makes it work, unless you’ve got a really dull mind or something.”

At that, the machine-hybrid laughed. “I was a poet in high school. I got this.”

Seventeen turned his attention to his thoughts. In his mind, he pictured himself strolling down the street in his usual attire. When he opened his eyes and looked down, he still saw shredded blues jeans and naked toes. “Didn’t work.”

His friend laughed again. “It takes some time. Ya gotta be patient or else it won’t happen.”

The machine-hybrid frowned before he closed his eyes once again. He made the same mental image where he was walking around in his normal clothes, and to keep it simple, he left out his coat and the armor he occasionally donned. Once the image had sat in his head for a short while, he started to feel a strange warm sensation wash over his body. For the next few minutes, he sat and focused on the idea of fresh clothes, and when he opened his eyes, a grin spread across his pallid visage. The Timberlands that normally encased his feet had returned, and his blues jeans were as fresh and crisp as the moment they were bought form the store.

Standing up, Seventeen reached a palm up to his chest and patted the black t-shirt he always wore. A glimpse showed that his white, long-sleeved undershirt had also been reborn. “Excellent,” the cyborg muttered as he pushed up his sleeve to reveal the multi-purpose tech piece he wore on his hand. While it had usually served as a watch, the display was blank, but a little icon showed that it was charged.

“Sword is there, too,” his acquaintance remarked as Seventeen reached back and felt the familiar grip of the Power Sword. With a swift motion, he unsheathed the blade and brought it in front of his face. On the polished face of the katchin-infused weapon, he saw that he was no longer bruised and marred by his previous battles. “Very nice,” he concluded as he resheathed the sword and looked to his new friend.

“Yea, it’s always neat to watch that.” Seventeen’s acquaintance reached forward and shifted a box so that it aligned a little nicer with those stacked above it. “Some people think being a prime must be a curse, but I imagine it’s gotta have its perks.”

True. Despite this new revelation, the machine-hybrid didn’t know how much he enjoyed the notion of losing everything he’d once had. The idea that years of training and condition had been flushed down the toilet was enough to make him want to find this Omni fellow and chop him in the balls. “You said I can do other stuff, right? I could fix your cart?”

The man shook his head. “No, it’s my fault. My partner betrayed me and stole some of my goods.”

“So those are drugs!”

A solid shake of the head from his friend caused Seventeen a small degree of consternation. “I look like a dealer to you?” The man laughed as he scooped up some of his spilled stock from the bottom of his cart. “I’m a salt merchant,” he added as he let the white granules spill from his downturned palm back onto the boxes.

“There’s a market for that?”

“Oh, yes. People love salt, don’t you?”

Seventeen thought for a moment and nodded his head. “Yea, potato chips and stuff.”

“…and other people use it for other stuff,” the merchant laughed as he pointed in what seemed to be a random direction. “Minas Tirith and the duchies pay a great deal for the stuff, and there’s a lot of untapped salt veins here in the Ashen Steppes. It was supposed to be a lucrative arrangement between Stefon and I.”

“Your partner who betrayed you?”

“Aye.” The man scowled as he glanced at the horizon. “He’s out there still, probably going to sell the goods to some middle man.”

Seventeen glanced into the interior of ‘the Ashen Steppes’ and frowned. After that moment passed, he looked back down at his new friend. “You want me to go get your stuff back? You seem kinda gassed.”

“You’d do that for a stranger?”

“Stranger?” Seventeen laughed. “You’re the only person I know in this place.” At that, the raven-haired warrior stepped forward and offered a hand. “I’m Seventeen, by the way.”

The merchant stood up and reached for the cyborg’s hand. “I’m Ronald, Mr. Seventeen.” With that, the two men shook hands for a brief moment before Seventeen turned his gaze back to the volcano-dotted horizon.

“Any clue where your pal went?”

Ronald shook his head. “He betrayed me about two hours back thataway.” The man pointed straight ahead. “I chased him in that direction.” Seventeen followed the merchant’s finger as it moved to the left—the android didn’t have it in him to admit that he had no idea where north was at in this world.

So even though he was uncertain and had only the world’s vaguest directions to go on, Seventeen clapped a hand on Ronald’s shoulder. “I got this.”

“I’ll stay here, then,” Ronald remarked as he reached into the cart with his hands. When the man lifted them back into view, they were cradling what seemed to be an elephant gun with a little exhaust pipe at the rear of the barrel. As Seventeen watched, the man thumbed a switch, and the old-looking rifle let out the very non-old sounding thrum of energy-based munitions. “Bess here can handle most,” he muttered nonchalantly as he dropped back onto his haunches and seemed to relax for the first time in a while.

“Sounds… sounds good, Ronald,” Seventeen said with a smile as he turned his focus toward ‘thataway’ and started to jog.

[Android 17]

Ronald was a mile or so behind him before the cyborg ran into anything of interest.  His route took him to the bank of a small lava floe that bisected what was otherwise a seemingly commonplace stretch of barren, reddish soil.

Seventeen paused at the bank of the rivulet-sized barrier and smiled faintly.  The last time he’d seen lava, he’d been locked into a swordfight with an old nemesis.  While that confrontation hadn’t been the end of that particularly rivalry, it had been a watershed moment in the cyborg’s old life.

That’s when she and I were reunited…

Reaching behind his head, Seventeen drew the Power Sword and held it out in front of his face.  His trip to the Underworld had set in moment a cascading series of events that led to heartache, fatherhood, reforged friendships, and ultimately a trio of untimely deaths.

It’d be the one in the middle that’d stuck, ushering Seventeen into the afterlife.  From there, he’d spent a few years training under demigods and getting to watch as the world rolled by without him.  For a while, that’d been pretty entertaining, but before too long, the itch to involve himself drew him back to the world of the living.  After that, it was the horses and the dragon and oblivion once again.

“And now whatever the hell this place is,” the cyborg spoke aloud as he sheathed the sword and took a few steps backwards.  With a running start, he cleared the rivulet of lava, but when he landed on the opposing bank, his thoughts were more on the fact that he should have been able to easily clear a body of water ten times as wide as the lava floe.

Ronald wasn’t lying… This place got me good.

How good would have to wait a little longer.

For now, Seventeen pressed forward in the direction of his merchant friend’s betrayer. If Ronald’s former partner was dragging his own cache of boxed salt, the cyborg had a genuine chance to catch up if he kept a decent pace.

***

The machine-hybrid knew he was close when he found the corpses amidst some scattered wooden shards and salt.

It wasn’t the corpses that unnerved him—the cyborg had seen and caused enough death in his day to be used to it—it was the identity of the victims.

Those are turtles… Anthropomorphic.  Turtles.

He dropped into a crouch next to one of the bodies and rolled it onto its carapace to reveal a pair of comically oversized eyes widened in terror.  The creature’s mouth hung open in a final scream, and given the lack of puncture wounds, it looked as if the deed had been done through some form of blunt-force trauma.  A few yards away, two of the turtle’s friends were lying in similar states.

Sorry, guys. Seventeen frowned as he traced a small rut in the ground that bisected the crime scene.  While it was erratic and occasionally ceased to exist, the broken line followed a straight path. He must be dragging it in something.

If Ronald’s ex-partner was dragging his stolen goods, the man was probably moving at a snail’s pace, unless he has some major muscle mass.

As the cyborg moved to stand, something exploded near his feet.  While none of the fire caught hold of his clothing, the concussive force was more than enough to throw the wiry fighter, causing him to barrel sideways before stopping against one of the turtle corpses.

Through blurred vision and momentarily impacted hearing, Seventeen heard a distinct word thrown his way as he stumbled to a vertical position.  “Killer!”

Another fireball came whirring through the air, and this time, the sphere smashed into his chest.  Now adorned with a handful of tiny fires spreading across his shirt, the machine-hybrid found himself face-up on the ground with his senses still grossly impacted by the sudden assault.

“I didn’t do anything,” Seventeen groaned as he rolled onto his gut to smother the small flames.  He felt the dry earth scratch against the exposed flesh of his chest and stomach. Need some spare shirts…

“You are surrounded by my fallen kin,” an awkwardly squeaking voice shouted as a whoosh of air predated another fireball.  On this occasion, something akin to instinct kicked in, and the raven-haired warrior rolled hard to his left as the blast crashed against the ground.  Although his movements were sluggish, he scrambled to his feet and looked to see that his assailant was a turtle in wizard’s vestments.  Aside from a different colored shell, the creature was identical to the corpses that littered the ground around the cyborg.

“I’m trailing someone,” Seventeen shouted as he telegraphed the next fireball.  Before another could make its way in his direction, he drew his sword and chucked it toward his attacker.  “Check it.  It’s clean.”  The sight and sound of the weapon being tossed at him stopped the turtle from continuing his attack.  “Your pals were beat to death.  Probably with hammers or clubs or something.  I’m following the guy… he left a trial,” the machine-hybrid gestured to the faint, broken line that led off toward the merchant-turned-betrayer-turned-reptile killer.

“You lie.”

Seventeen shook his head.  “You think I just magically washed their blood off me?”

“It’s possible.”

Smart ass. The machine-hybrid didn’t know what the wizard turtle was truly capable of, and if he could avoid it, he’d rather not find out.  “Then let me prove it.  You can have the sword, and you can follow me to the killer.  If you don’t like what you see or if you think I’m leading you into a trap, you can put a fireball in me without me being aware.”

For a few moments, Seventeen was certain that the wizard was just going to start lobbing fireballs again, but after a short deliberation, the turtle’s features softened just a little.  The creature walked over to the sword and plucked it from the ground before using it to gesture off in the direction of the line.  “March.”

“Try and keep up,” Seventeen grinned before breaking into a sprint toward his target.

[Android 17]

With the turtle trailing him by a few paces, the machine-hybrid still managed to cover a lot of ground.  Unfortunately, the further he went, the worse the environment around him became.  What had once been flat, barren earth was now uneven and jagged.  Dried soil had been replaced by dirt so desiccated and so devoid of the touch of liquid that most of it was cracking apart.

The dust and silicate in the atmosphere had become thick enough that it now resembled a thin layer of fog.  Every few minutes, Seventeen had to take a moment to wipe his face, and each time, his hand came back looking blacker and blacker.  The closest of the volcanoes which once contributed to the panoramic view were now within a few miles of his location.  At a closer distance, he found himself marveled at how they just seemed to never stop erupting.  The nearest one—something in the ballpark of about two hundred meters tall—had been spewing lava since his arrival in the Ashen Steppes.  

With the ground in front of him turning into a sharp incline, Seventeen finally came to a stop and shouted the question without looking over his shoulder.  “Do they do this all the time?”

“Who?”  The turtle yelled after a short pause.  Seventeen pointed toward the nearest volcano.  “The volcanoes?  Yes, most of them have a very fixed schedule.  It’s when they veer from their normal schedule that you want to be worried.”

In his head, the machine-hybrid pictured some sort of massive super volcano exploding like an atom bomb and drowning the whole place in burning lava and toxic smog.

“Great place to live,” Seventeen shot back as he eyed the terrain that lay before him. Easy. With a smile, the machine-hybrid jogged forward and jumped.

A few yards back from the start of the jagged incline, the turtle wizard watched as the skinny, pale man jumped forward and proceeded to crash into the ground a beat later.  Dust and swear words flooded the air around the crumpled form, and it was at that moment that the reptile knew he wasn’t trailing a killer.

“Was something supposed to happen?”  The wizard asked, biting back a snicker as Seventeen rolled onto his back and clutched at a freshly bloodied kneecap.

“I could fly before,” the cyborg spoke through clenched teeth.  “I could teleport, too.”

“You’re a prime, then?”  The turtle asked as he walked over to Seventeen.  When the raven-haired fighter nodded his head, he was rewarded with a laugh from his former accuser.  “Ah, that’s got to be rough.”  With a final snicker, the Power Sword was dropped at its owner’s feet.

“You believe me?”

The turtle gave a short nod.  “No one stupid enough to do what you just did would be capable of so efficiently murdering those koopas, unless you’re the greatest actor since Mickey Mouse to enter the Omniverse.”

The fuck is Mickey Mouse? It was a question for another time.  For now, the cyborg nodded his head and returned his sword to its sheath.  “You say you’re a koopa?”

“Technically, I’m a Magikoopa.”  When the turtle saw the confusion on the man’s face, he frowned.  “Magic.  Koopa…”

Seventeen shook his head.  “No, I get that.  So is koopa like, your species?  Or your clan?  Or your job?”

“It’s just what I am,” the turtle replied as he snapped his fingers.  A swirl of lights danced around the reptile’s body, and when they faded, a blue robe was left behind.  Atop the mage’s head, a blue felt cap appeared.  “See?  Magic.”

With a grin, the cyborg gestured to the jagged landscape in front of them.  “You wanna magic us through this, then?”

The ‘magikoopa’ smirked as he reached beneath his robe.  He first produced a pair of sunglasses, and once those were in place over his eyes, he retrieved a small scepter.

“Name is Joe,” he remarked as he started to swirl the scepter.  A faint shimmer started to appear above the turtle’s head.  “Just do me a favor and hold onto your undergaments.  This can be unpleasant.”

Before Seventeen could pose the very serious question of how magic and underwear were related, there was a blinding flash.  He felt his stomach drop down into his pelvis before the world came roaring back to life.  After the initial burst of renewed reality, the machine-hybrid realized that he was lying on the ground.  “You could warn me, you know.”  He groaned as he willed his wobbly legs to obey his commands.  “It’s commonplace to tell someone before you decide to shunt them through space-time.”

Joe the Magikoopa shrugged his robed shoulders and pointed with his scepter to something behind the machine-hybrid.  “Lookit.”

Seventeen craned his neck around and spotted the figure just a few hundred feet away.  While it was impossible to tell at this range, it looked like a large man dragging something across the scorched earth.  “I think that’s our guy.”

“Then let’s get him,” Joe declared, eliciting a smile from the raven-haired fighter.

With that, the two moved to catch up to the thief.

[Android 17]

By the time they were within a couple dozen yards of the thief, he was ready for them. Seventeen caught the subtle motion as the man dropped the rope he was using to drag the makeshift sled. There was a faint glimmer before a giant blast of energy came screaming at the twosome.

“Duck!”

The machine-hybrid dove to the wayside as the bolt of energy roared passed him. Slightly less agile, Joe held up his scepter and winced as an impromptu magical barrier flashed to life. The defensive measure soaked up most of the impact, but there was enough kick in the blast that it got through the shield and smacked against the turtle’s chest.

With Joe now feeling on the ground, Seventeen popped back into a vertical position and threw out a hand. A burst of energy sprang forth and caught the thief in the shoulder, causing him to fall backwards onto his haunches. Rather than press the assault, the cyborg simply glanced at his extended palm and frowned. In his head, he’d put enough into that attack to blow a hole in the thief, and instead, he’d done little more than smack his target in the shoulder.

Something tells me that I’m not going to like this place.

As the machine-hybrid waxed philosophical about his predicament, his opponent stood up, shouldered his gun, and loosed another thunderous blast.

Seventeen twisted and threw himself forward as the super-heated lance of energy tore through the spot his head had occupied a few moments earlier. Unlike the last time, he rolled through the leap and ended up on his feet at the end. Wrenching the Power Sword from its sheath, the cyborg closed the distance and swung the blade at the man’s face. The merchant growled as he parried the attack with the barrel of his rifle and caught his opponent in the chin with the stock of the weapon. There was the sudden taste of blood in Seventeen’s mouth as a second bash knocked him off balance.

“Night night,” the merchant snickered as he shouldered the weapon and moved for the trigger. Before his finger could act, a fireball crashed against his chest and shoulder.

Seeing the opening that Joe had made for him, Seventeen stepped forward and smashed his boot into his opponent’s shin. There was an audible snap as the bone splintered under the impact. Pain and fear took over as the man screamed and pulled the trigger, loosing a bolt into the sky above the opponents’ heads. Although this hearing had been reduced to a dull ringing noise, the cyborg’s resolve hadn’t wavered. With the sword clenched in both of his bony hands, he put on his best baseball player impression.

The first vicious swing smashed against the center of the merchant’s rifle, knocking the gun from the man’s panicked fingertips. Before his opponent had a chance to pull back, Seventeen once again teed off, and this time, the baseball was the other man’s skull.

While he knew the Omniverse would take some getting used to, the machine-hybrid was more than satisfied to learn that the old adage of ‘katchin beats anything’ was still in effect. Upon impact, the Power Sword crashed through one side of the man’s skull and exited the other with a spray of chunky, gray-red gore. A beat later, a corpse with half a head hit the ground in front of the cyborg with a wet thump.

“And the crowd goes wild,” Seventeen whispered beneath his breath as he sheathed the sword and watched the man’s blood sputter out onto the dry soil.

[Android 17]

Ronald’s former partner was dead.

With the Power Sword dripping blood on the ground next to him, Seventeen tilted his head to try and get a better angle at the corpse. Much like the salt merchant, his partner had a similar ‘peasant’-style dress and the appearance of someone who hadn’t bothered to shave or shower in a few weeks.

“Well that guy’s dead,” Joe the Magikoopa remarked as he walked over to the cyborg. The reptile was rubbing a bruise on his head from when he’d been knocked backwards, and aside from some scorching on his plastron, he seemed all right. “How you know it was your guy?”

Seventeen picked up the firearm and turned it around. The heavy metal stock of the firearm was dented and stained with blood and strips of flesh. “Also,” the machine-hybrid remarked, pointing into the makeshift sled that the dead guy was dragging. “Pretty sure if you take that back… you’ll find that they probably belong in those koopas’ mouths.”

Joe frowned as he knelt down and plucked the necklace up out from amid the boxes of salt. About half a dozen bloody teeth were tethered to the rope necklace. “Disgusting,” the reptile scowled as threw the ghoulish jewelry into a nearby pool of magma. The teeth made slight popping noises—far too similar to the sound of popping corn kernels for Seventeen’s taste—before vanishing into the molten rock.

“I’mma take this back… you want to come with me?” Seventeen asked as he grabbed the rope that the dead merchant had used to drag the cart.

“I can’t,” Joe replied after a moment of silent contemplation. “I should report those murders to the tower.”

“Tower?”

“This is Koopa country,” the magically-inclined turtle remarked. “King Bowser’s got eyes and ears in most places.”

Seventeen held up his hands and laughed. “You might as well just be making up names.”

Joe furrowed his brow, but after a moment, he relaxed, certainly recalling the knowledge that his new friend had only been in the Omniverse a short while. “Just head about a half day’s march from the Nexus gate, and you’ll run across a stone tower. That’s one of the outposts, and it’s the one I’m going to. They’re always looking for extra surface eyes, if you want a job.”

The cyborg chuckled. “You need a job in this place?”

“Easy way to make omnilium… you’re gonna need that if you want to be anyone.”

“You got lots of that stuff… the uh?” Seventeen asked before trying to correctly pronounce the word in his head. “Omnilium? Yea, omnilium.”

The koopa shook his head. “I’m a secondary, so I can’t do diddly with it. Since yer a prime, you’ll have more use of it… trust me.”

Seventeen nodded his head. “I do.” The raven-haired fighter paused for a brief moment. “Yea, I guess I’ll be there later today.”

“Sounds good!” Joe declared before twirling his scepter and vanishing in a blast of light.

[center]***[/center]

A few hours later, the cyborg let out a sigh of relief at the sight of Ronald standing in the same spot. When the salt merchant saw friend approaching, he grinned widely and rushed to help Seventeen drag the stolen merchandise the rest of the way to his disheveled cart.

“I can’t believe you got this back for me!” Ronald declared as he hooked a large arm around the cyborg’s scrawny shoulders and squeezed the smaller man against his large girth. “I owe ya!” He added before glancing down to the sled. “What happened to Jack Ass?”

With a smile, Seventeen shared the sad news. “You might say that your old friend found himself in over his head.”

Ronald stared blankly for a few moments too long, but eventually, the salt merchant’s eyes widened and a grin returned to his face. “Serves that bastard right!” He boomed as he hugged the machine-hybrid one more time. When he peeled away, he grinned and clapped a hand down on Seventeen’s right shoulder, eliciting a wince from the smaller man. “Here, you deserve this!”

Before the cyborg could ask any questions, Ronald gave him a small crate. Seventeen looked down at it and stifled a snicker as he turned his gaze back to the smiling visage of the merchant. “Thanks… bud.”

The larger man shrugged his shoulders. “It is some good stuff! You’ll find some value in it! And you can always extract the omnilium from it, if you’d rather do that.” When the machine-hybrid made one of his recently trademarked ‘confused beyond words’ face, Ronald smirked. “Just like summoning… only backwards. I’m sure you’ll figure it out!”

“So what do you do now?” Seventeen asked as he glanced down at the barely operable cart of salt boxes.

“To Camelot,” Ronald remarked. “Remember, I sell out of Minas Tirith. Camelot is a far more pleasant verse than this. If you’re in the area, you should stop by. I’ll give you a discount,” he added with a grin as he waved goodbye and started for the gate.

“Oh hey!” Seventeen shouted after a few moments. Once his new friend paused and glanced back at him, the cyborg continued. “There’s some kind of awkward stand-off at the Fountain thing. I’d avoid that at all costs if I were you.”

“Thank you, Mr. Seventeen!” Ronald replied with a wave as the machine-hybrid turned and started for the interior of the Ashen Steppes.