Re: Fools! There will be a King!

[Miranda Frost]

"I said... Its time to get up!".

By how her watch read, it was now four o'clock A.M. Fairly early for normal folk, but for warriors and military types, loud awakenings like these should come as a regularity. Well, even for most military personel this was over-the-top. Using just a bit Omnilinium, she supplied herself with a semi-automatic pistol. As such a weapon really wasn't her style, and that she was really doing this out of the spectacle of it, she had it loaded with blanks.

She smiled behind her mask, her fresh jaw muscles burning. One. Two. Three. Four. Five. Six. Seven. Eight. Empty. By the time she dropped the gun, sending it skidding and scraping across the stone floor. Miranda sat on an unused bunk, watching the others each get up in their own way.

Zack's eyes seemed to snap open almost immediately upon her entry, but for reasons uknown to her he stayed in bed. Drake however hadn't budged an inch. Miranda sighed and shook her head, her body aching as she stood up, forced to walk over to his bunk.

"You....rockheaded.... dumbass... I said get up!", she growled kicking hard at the bed's front right leg. It collapsed and crumpled in on itself. It was amazing how this world seem to work for her. At first she assumed her amazing strength was only because of her prosthetic arms, though in reality her legs were just as strong. Goes to show why one should never skip leg day, not that she could really. Missing both arms could do that for you.

"Alright alright! Just shut your trap would ya?", the one armed maniac said, slowly setting his body upright, a hand running over his scalp.

Miranda, for one, was content; tired, but content. Maybe even better with the red armored machine-man and Zack already ready to go. Talk about quick recovery. Colonel glanced over at the others and walked out of the door way, presumably to wait on the others as they finished their preparations. She wondered if the man even slept. God knows Miranda didn't. Zack was about to walk out as well when his eyes met hers.

Miranda's brow furrowed, the small amount of nerves she possessed that day completely apparent to Zack.

"What?"

"You didn't sleep well did you? You.. got bags under your eyes"

"I didn't get any sleep Zack... which is why you're driving. You seem like a truck person, eh? I hope you enjoy the 'stick'.", she giggled softly, her voice muffled by the normal, steel mask she had wore. This time though, something was off. Her voice no longer sounded digitized, but genuine. Of course her voice was rough and somewhat deep for a woman, but the environment she was used to living in done that to her.

"Before you ask... I spent my entire night summoning shit, our raggedy ass truck included", she yawned again and tossed -ack the keys. If he couldn't guess what really had changed with her over night, then it would be some time before he would come to that conclusion. That alone amused her to some extent. Given her mental state, it really didn't take much to. Oh how she wanted to crash onto that bed that second, but no, she had to wait until the y at least got to the truck. By what the troopers had told her the night before, the next castle was at least two to three hours depending on if they ran into trouble on the way there. Good news was that the ground was more than ten time stable than the road they had crossed the day prior. The road was, for the most part, heavily guarded. The drive was long, but it should be much quieter.

Zack walked out and Miranda followed, a gloved hand sliding against the smooth stone walls. Zack was well within grabbing distance, should her legs give out.

Regenerating her face took nearly all night. The process of summoning her face as carefully as absolutely possible was painful. So painful in fact she had to recruit some help from a few guards to stand watch over her while she went through the process, to keep her from inflicting any damaging the fortress. The summoning had drained her and the pain had numbed her.

"Just... follow this corridor down to the... back entrance. The vehicle is ready."

[Zack Fair]

As they stepped outside, Zack paused when he looked at the truck. It may have been freshly summoned, but it looked old and rusted already. It was a simple two seater, so only one other person would be able to ride up front. They could maybe squeeze a third in the bench seat upfront, but it wouldn't be very comfortable.

The morning sky of the Ashen Steppes looked the same as it did at any other time of day. It was covered with thick back clouds, and the wind swept the loose ash around like always. The suffocating air was complimented by the dry heat. He waved his hand as he walked over to the truck to blow a bit of the gunk away from his face. Zack wasn't quite sure he would ever get used to this place.

"You spent all night summoning and all you could come up with was this piece of junk?" Zack joked as he stopped by the driver's door. Miranda gave a less than amused look in response, but Zack simply let out a loud laugh as she walked around the back. If he couldn't have a little fun, he might go crazy in this wasteland.

Zack placed his right hand against the body of the truck, closing his eyes and concentrating a little bit. He summoned forwards some raw Omnilium and began to infuse it with the truck. He was only making a small addition, so he assumed that it wouldn't take too long to get it set up. There was no fixing this thing up completely, so it was just a matter of comfort and utility at this point.

Of course, he recognized that most of Miranda's effort and energy had gone into her self restoration project, so a little time to sit and nap would certainly help her get back on her feet. As he heard the others milling around the area, he opened his eyes a few minutes later to see that his addition was complete. A simple latch that would hold the Buster Sword against the truck, so he wouldn't have to worry about cramming into the front seat with it. It would take a little wear and tear from the road, but he'd just touch it up with Omnilium during some downtime, like he always did. If the spirit of Angeal was watching over him, he'd have to get over this one.

Zack placed the Buster Sword into it's makeshift holster. Four latches held it in place, two high and two low on either side, while another piece of metal went into one of the holes in the blade to prevent it from simply dropping. He smiled, impressed with his own creative thinking, but looked around to see the others showing little to no interest in his handiwork.

He shrugged it off and opened the door, sliding into the driver's seat. Miranda had been kind enough to leave the keys in the ignition, so he turned them and listened as it weakly tried to start. After a few misfires he let go, and the truck sat in silence. He hesitated, and then turned the ignition again, this time pounding on the dashboard once with his left fist. The truck roared to life, and Zack shook his head. Another of his old trucks for making things work had made the jump to the Omniverse with him.

He unfolded the map and took a look at it to get a feeling for the route they would be taking. The road was supposedly better this way, but the Koopa Troop had an odd way of looking at things, so he didn't really know what to expect. He simply set it down on the seat beside him, so whoever ended up riding shotgun would be able to take a glance if they needed.

He rubbed his eyes and blinked a few times. This air wasn't the best to wake up to, so it was taking him a bit to get his energy going. So for now, he just adjusted his seat and waited for the others to be ready.

[Tearen Wover]

Just everyone else was in the truck and ready to roll by the time Drake came sauntering out of the rear exit of the fortress. He was dimly aware that someone had tried to wake him up earlier, but he was notorious for benefiting from the sleep of the dead. His minor cybernetic implants tended to get him on his feet in a jiffy, when he decided to actually turn on the rousting system, but usually there was no point. The smuggler blinked blearily into the ash laden wind of the steppes and held a pleather sleeved arm up to his face, keeping the worst of it out of his sullen eyes. He watched dully as Zack made a sword holster on the side of the truck's bed, pulling a thin cigarette out of his satchel and lighting it up.

The wind was actually pretty harsh today, and the human secondary was glad he had a hood and hat to keep the soot out of his eyes. Drake also took the liberty of wrapping a damp handkerchief around his nose and mouth. No use dying of black lung before the job was done. Yes, he was aware of the irony with the cigarette and stuff. Whatever. Drake was more melancholy about the fact that he wasn't going to be the one driving. After all, he was really quite good at piloting just about every conceivable vehicle ever devised, so in a just world he would have been behind the wheel. Prime privilege, apparently. Drake rose the cigarette to his lips, only for it to be blocked by the handkerchief. Hmm.

"Tch."

Consigned to the smokey fate of the truck bed without nicotine, Drake climbed up onto the bare metal and gripped the truck's driver's side rail with his right hand, with his back up against the cab. Never in a million years would he be doing this, but unfortunately, there was that whole brainwashing thing going on, so he couldn't help it. Impulse control was never his strong suit.

[Albert Wesker]

It had been a long, uneventful night. Usually there was something to keep him occupied. Some task or other that he could devote his processes to so that the long, silent hours didn't drag by with their incessant march of minutes stretching into an obscured, dull haze.

The soldier navi had spent a short time testing the extent of his skills, as they functioned here in this...this "Omniverse". He had had very little time, thus far, to really take stock of his predicament, beyond the initial cursory examination shortly after his initial arrival to the...Nexus, it had been called by that Nealaphh person in their Monotruth book. Aside from that, and some infrequent fiddling with his weapons in his time in the blasted landscape of the Ashen Steppes, he hadn't spared any time to truly think about his predicament.

Over the course of the night he had sought to correct that problem.

And as Miranda sounded the wake up with a gun, of all things, Colonel was drawn back to the waking world from his introspective ruminations on his current condition. He rose to his feet, an idea suddenly in his mind. He spared a passing glance at the others as they made the effort to rouse themselves from their sleep before making his way out of the room. He caught wind just as he left earshot that Zack was going to be driving again today. He didn't quite scowl, but his perpetual neutral expression did turn just a shade or three darker. Oh boy.

He emerged into the ever-present haze of heat that was the general 'outside' of the sulfurous verse. Over the course of the next several minutes he went about putting his mind to the task of working with the Omnilium he had once again. It was time to bring some heavy weapons into play, if they were going to continue on this task of tracking down bandits. There was every chance such firepower wouldn't even be needed, but there was just as much chance it would be a definite plus to have it.

His continuing struggle to breathe, impeded by the heat and ash swirling exorbitantly through the air, did not help his concentration any. Several minutes later, however, he was finally able to lift the imposing form of the Colonel Cannon and heft it up onto one shoulder. Its weight bore down on him heavily, and he was forced to grudgingly admit that he'd lost more of his strength than he cared to admit. If he tried to fire this beast without bracing himself beforehand, he'd wind up knocked flat, or blowing his arm clean out of alignment. It was a disappointment, but it was good to have the weapon back, all the same.

It took only a few short seconds worth of focus to dismiss the huge cannon, leaving only a few wisps of blue light as it flashed out of existence in the blink of an eye. He slowly flexed his hand, curling it into a fist and opening it again, suddenly reminded of the fact that he was still new to the prospect of feeling the weapon in his hand. It was disconcerting, to put it mildly. Squinting his eyes and letting out a pronounced huff to blow the ash out of his face's immediate airspace, he trudged back toward the truck his companions, for the moment, had gathered about.

It certainly didn't look like much.

But then again, he might not have been the best judge. Objects in the physical world had always looked a bit strange to him, as a whole.

Taking one look at the cab of the truck, and then down at the energy blade taking the place of his hand, humming innocuously, he let out another deep sigh of annoyance. "I think It might be best if I ride in the back." And he clambered his way into the bed of the beat-up looking vehicle, doing his best to not jab Drake with his saber, and settled in as steadily as he could.

He looked ever so slightly more displeased than usual, but that may very well have just been the heat. It was hard to tell.

[Miranda Frost]

All aboard.

Miranda could never forget the day her training was complete. Transportation was something that her town lacked. There was nowhere one couldn't reach on foot. There were no roads exiting the town either, save for one lone railroad. The old machine's peeling red paint was nearly indistinguishable from the rusted metal beneath. Besides the engine itself, there was only car attached. Only two would be carried this time.

Miranda couldn't forget the rain that broke the three year drought the morning of their departure. The sky's sorrow brought joy and means to celebrate to the people of her home town. It was funny actually. The dense rain hid her heavy tears. She knew well what lay at the end of those tracks. Her mother did as well.

While the air had cooled from the rain outside the train's cabin, the atmosphere inside had remained hot and humid. November was glued to the cabin's window, watching the desert go by with that stupid grin on his face. He always lived in the present, not caring about what carried them there or what lay ahead. He never believed in a set destiny, a predetermined timeline. In his mind it was all fluid rather than concrete. There was nothing he couldn't change.

He was a fool.

Free will was an illusion. There seemed to be choices, though all paths were laid out from before they were born. It can be devastating to know what lay ahead, knowing that all ones efforts will amount to nothing against fate's torrent.
The skies wept because not even the will of the planet can change its eventual fate.

Miranda knew what lay ahead, even if her mind could not accept it. She remembered her body trembling the entire trip. November would glance over and try to pry into her emotional walls and fail miserably. Miranda could not afford to spoil the endgame.

"You couldn't believe it even if I told you", Miranda had told him. She nearly had to hit him to get him to back off.

__________________________________________________________________________________

Her sleep came fast, even with the rough ride that the truck provided. Her muscles relaxed for the first time in what would seem an eternity. Had she been awake, she might have complained about how sore she was. Instead she sat limp with her lone eye closed while her substitute remained opened and active, shining its weak like across the busted dash board of the truck. The lack of proper windows let the wind play at Miranda's hair without her consent.

To some her face may appear blissful in comparison to the facade she wore when she was awake, a side buried deep down only to return in a state of unconsciousness.

[Zack Fair]

Once everyone had loaded up into the vehicle, Zack had leaned heavily on the horn to announce their road trip had begun and taken off down the road. That had been awhile ago, and his few attempts at conversation with his "co-pilot" had been largely ignored. Now Miranda slept as peacefully as someone like her could, while Zack drove absentmindedly down the road. He glanced over to the sleeping girl again and rolled his eyes, wishing she'd thrown Drake or even Colonel in the front.

But instead he was stuck driving in relative silence. He'd turned on the radio, and was impressed that it didn't seem to phase Miranda in the slightest, despite the volume he had to keep it at to actually hear it since this thing didn't come with windows. Miranda had skimped out on the speakers as well, but at least it was functional enough to hear.

So he listened intently to a broadcast from the Vasty Deep. Some sport that he couldn't begin to understand was being played. It sounded like fun, and the announcers were into it, so he just tried to figure it out as he mindlessly listened.

Before long, the road took them into a cavern, so he was forced to turn on the bright lights on the vehicle, which thankfully worked. They drove past rivers and lakes of lava, all of which Zack intently watched for some sort of hazardous environmental malfunction like they'd experienced before. Their information turned out to be right, though, and the road was much more stable.

Zack kept glancing at the map, grumbling something about the sleeping girl in the passenger seat being the navigator. There were a few twists and turns in the road, but before long they came upon a gigantic lake of lava. Nestled in the middle of it was a massive fortress that looked every bit as stereotypical as the last fort they'd been to, except this castle looked a thousand times more massive and grand.

He drove up to it, stopping a decent distance away from it. Walking the rest of the way would be no problem, but it was far enough from the entrance that the security this place had would feel comfortable. Zack pounded his first against the horn twice to get a good double honk out of this piece of junk, announcing their arrival and waking Miranda. She looked around while he locked in the parking break and opened the driver side door.

"Mmm?" Miranda groaned, still sleepy after her long night. "We're here? You managed to not kill us?"

Zack grinned back at her as he slid out of the truck. "Look around. We might be dead and in hell, after all."

Miranda groaned and pushed her own door open, wondering when Zack would tire of that joke. She stepped out of the vehicle and onto the rocky surface, looking up to see they were indeed well underground at this point.

Zack, meanwhile, pulled his sword from the sheath he'd made for it, and briefly inspected it. It had a few scrapes and scratches from where it rode, but nothing that would take terribly long to patch up. He decided he'd get to it later. He heaved the massive blade over his shoulder and it rested on his back like normal, then walked around to the front of the truck, standing on the opposite end of the hood from Miranda.

"Nice place, though," Zack commented with a straight face, crossing his arms as he looked up at Bowser's castle. "Maybe he'll give us the number of the sculptor that can make your face into a door."

"Let's just see if they'll let us in," Miranda said, looking back to Drake and Colonel for a second, then back to the castle.

Zack nodded and pointed forward, seeing that their arrival had gotten the attention of the guards near the main entrance. A few were on their way out to greet them. They were more of the same Koopas and Goombas they had seen before, only they looked much more serious than the ones they'd met way out in the boondocks. He shot a glance to Miranda, then walked around to the front and leaned against the hood, keeping his arms crossed while he waited on them to arrive.

[Tearen Wover]

Drake spent a majority of the truck ride simply brooding and dicking around on his Dataverse device. The tell-tale wires of earbuds snaked their way up under his hood, which was really the only remotely comfortable part of riding in the back a beat-ass pickup over lava plains. Despite the oppressive heat of the verse, the truck, or at least Zack, was able to keep things moving at a decent enough clip so as to make a slight breeze flow across the deck that Drake and Colonel sat in, hunched over like two homeless dudes.

Well...a homeless dude and a robot. Fuck. Whatever.

At some point, despite being constantly jostled by a solid metal frame, Drake managed to drift into a distant half-sleep; aware of the world but staunchly stuck in the mind that raced behind closed eyes. By the time they got to this fortress place, Drake was sore and stiff as a motherfucker, and as he vaulted himself over the rail of the truck bed, he hit the ground with a prolonged groan. With a vindictive tug, the smuggler yanked his makeshift face mask away from his scarred features and immediately plugged a cigarette between his chapped lips. As Drake simultaneously stretched and wandered around to the front of the truck, even though everyone else was still inside. Oh wait, shit. They were probably gonna drive the rest of the way. Shaking his head, Drake quickly clambered back into the ass end of the truck, trying to avoid the glances that were being tossed his way.

It seemed as though they were gonna be waiting for a little longer, so being the addict he as, Drake immediately whipped his dataverse device back out and started poking around the message boards again. He froze slightly when he came across something rather auspicious indeed. Turning his phone around, Drake held it out for Colonel to see.

"Dude, have you seen this?"

Some asshole was gonna try and lynch Bartleby. Nealaphh. Whatever.

[Albert Wesker]

Aside from a few short minutes of activity, most of which involved looking blankly out over the hellish wastes, Colonel had been silent and still. Had it not been for his eyes remaining wide open and full of the look of attentiveness that hadn't left them since his arrival to the Omniverse, it might have seemed like he'd fallen asleep himself. Or died. He didn't exactly exhibit the typical rise and fall of his chest to mark whether he was breathing or not, and the air that blew by effectively masked an auditory indication as to whether or not he was still breathing. The blade of energy that served to replace his right hand might have gone out if he had actually died....maybe....but that was neither here nor there.

Behind his unblinking stare he was focused intently on running over possibilities and plans of action in his mind. He was still mostly unaware of the specifics of what exactly was going on here, beyond that they were hunting down bandits. Having plans in mind for any eventuality he could think up was all he could really do. It wasn't very entertaining to have such thoughts be the only ones to occupy his mind, but...

He wasn't built to be an entertainment Navi.

When they finally ground to a halt at the fortress, Colonel merely craned his neck around the side of the truck, looking toward the imposing structure in the distance. "It's definitely a fortress," he said simply. As always, his tone was flat and devoid of humor. He cast a glance at Drake as he clambered back into the bed of the truck. "I take it we're driving the rest of the way?" The smuggler just shrugged, pulling out what Colonel could only guess to be some kind of Dataverse device. For his part, the soldier navi merely returned his attention to staring out at the scenic hellscape on display around them, keeping his ears alert for anything out of place.

At least until Drake spoke up, showing something on his phone. A quick glance had Colonel's attention solidly caught, and his eyes narrowed ever so slightly. "Doesn't look like Nealaphh is all that popular." If there was a bounty out on him -- not only that, but apparently multiple bounties out on him -- it was only safe to assume one of two things. One, he was extremely unlikable in person and had made some people with weight to throw around angry. Or two, he was as dangerous as he seemed to be intelligent, and had done something to warrant said bounties.

It would be something to look into later. But for now...

"That makes things more difficult..." He simply shook his head, turning his attention back out to nowhere in particular.

[Miranda Frost]

The fortress was massive, bigger than any they had seen before. If the leader of this nation had moved to this one, the king of Koopa's ego must be just as big. Constructed of black stone blocks as thick as tall and thick as she was tall, this bastion was no farce. It stood high and imposing like a mountains and its guards were no joke either. Even as she stood, her eyes scanning over its walls, a small detachment of red-shelled koopas led by an older blue shell approached. Above them upon the ramparts wide cannons were set in place, trained upon Miranda and her small band.

The battle ready formation of walking turtles came to an abrupt halt, blocking the party's way to the fortress gates. The blue shelled koopa walked his way up to Miranda.

"Don't mind the welcoming committee, things have been eh.. hectic to say the least for the past few days. Now then, what brings your fine crew here?", the blue shelled commander said, peaking around Miranda's form to get a glimpse of zack, Drake, and Colonel. No doubt he was wondering about the strange assortment of people gathered here. It wasn't hard to tell their origins were clearly different from each other's... especially in Colonel's case.

Miranda sighed and slightly unzipped her coat, pulling a rolled up piece of parchment from its right internal pocket. She unrolled it and handed to the height-challenged being before her. "We were told there were bandit problems. We are here to clean up this mess of yours."

"Oh dear. I'm sorry to say that these notices are at least a year old madam."

"You better be kidding me. Finding this King Bowser of yours was no cake walk.", she replied, her face reddening in frustration.

"No. I'm not. It doesn't mean we can't use your assistance however. We have been hearing rumors of an organisation being formed without approval of His Excellancy himself. We haven't been able to approach this organisation."

"So you... know nothing about the people we would be hired to find?"

"No, though we have reason to believe that this organisation is behind two crimes against Bowser and his subjects. The first is the massacre of the entire North village some twenty miles from here. The second is the robbery of an important artifact that was held deep within this fortress's dungeons. Our king has been on edge lately, believing this organisation sponsored by the Empire, based in a verse neighboring ours, though without proof, he cannot justify military action.

"I see. Find out who these criminals are, stop them, and report back. Simple". Miranda turned and began to walk away before remembering that she really didn't know exactly where this North Village is supposed to be. She turned quickly on her heels, facing the commander once again. "How exactly do we get there?"

"Go back the way you came for one mile and take the road leading off the road you traveled to get here... but wait! you reaallly must inform Bowser of your actions while you're here. Come, I will try and get you an audience."

[Zack Fair]

Zack stayed where he was while the Koopas spoke to Miranda. He was perfectly comfortable leaning against the hood of the truck while he listened to them talk to her. Something told him that maybe it wasn't the best idea to allow her to be the voice of this strange little band, but he couldn't resist seeing how it would go. Her word choice was rough and could use some refinement, but he was impressed, overall, with how she spoke with the Koopas.

He was much less impressed, however, to learn that the bandit problem was old and irrelevant news. He shook his head and looked out to the lava moat that circled the fortress, still listening. The lead Koopa mentioned something about a new organization being formed, and that they could help with battling it instead. That was much less appealing to Zack. Bandits were a universal evil, but when it came to politics between two organizations, that line was a little bit more blurry.

It wasn't something he was willing to write off just yet, however. He wanted to learn a little bit more, and see what the deal was with this North Village. Then he'd decide if this was worth it. So, Zack turned to get back in the truck, when suddenly the Koopa called out for them to stop. It suggested meeting with Bowser, which he was glad to know they were on the same page about something, for once.

"You can leave your..." the Koopa paused as it studied the truck, a look of disbelief plastered on his face. "...uh, your vehicle, here."

"Thanks!" Zack cheerfully replied, lightly tapping the hood and causing the radio antenna to break free of it's mount, and fall to the hood. He looked at it for only a brief second before shrugging and following the group of Koopas across the bridge that passed over the molten river.

They entered the grand castle, and Zack looked around in awe at the elaborate interior. Koopas of various races were hurrying in and out of the large entry room. They traveled deeper into the castle, a route their escort clearly knew quite well. Finally, they stopped just outside a grand door that obviously led to the throne room.

"Wait here," the blue shelled leader instructed them, with Drake silently mouthing out his exact words, unnoticed from the back. These people sure were predictable.

The lead Koopa opened the door just enough to slip in, then closed it behind him. Zack crossed his arms and looked up at some of the paintings, mostly of Bowser but there were a few that were very likely his children. Miranda was already tapping her foot impatiently, which was a contrast to Colonel's calm exterior.

Slowly, Zack began to pace back and forth. More than anything else, he just hated waiting.

[Tearen Wover]

Drake sighed as the group passed beneath the granite maw of the koopa king that stretched into the ember flecked darkness above. The entire aesthetic of the place screamed evil, and based on what Drake knew about Bowser, he certainly did try to portray this sort of persona. That being said, the smuggler wasn't exactly sure just how Nealaphh expected someone like him to convince a tyrannical turtle monster to fight another tyrannical monster.

The paintings were charming enough, but Drake could feel their eyes burning into the back of his neck as he shuffled past. The color scheme of the place was also of note for its sheer lack of variety. Everything was dull, grey, hewn stone, with singed red carpets lining the centers of the hallways. Wrought iron sconces held flickering torches, and as usual, the occasional superfluous lava pit could be seen bubbling in the middle of hallways that they passed by.

When the group finally arrived in the receiving room, Drake casually pulled a cigarette out of his bag and ignited it as he delicately held it between pursed lips. Suddenly he hard a sharp hiss from his left. One of the red shelled koopas pointed to a large, carved sign that hung high overhead.

'NO SMOKING'

Ah yes. No smoking in the castle in the volcano. Drake heavily considered stamping the cherry of the cigarette out on their precious red carpet, but it would be ill advised for a diplomatic mission. Regarding that, Drake needed to have a word with Miranda.

The secondary approached her as she stood with what was most likely a scowl on her face, staring aimlessly back down the hallway they had traveled. Again, there was something different about her. It was subtle, but Drake had a good feel for these kinds of things. There was a slight brightness in her that she hadn't had last night, which was odd, considering she'd been up building a stupid pickup truck. Shaking his head slightly, Drake cleared his voice and spoke in a hushed tone.

"Ehem. So, anyway, like I've been saying, I've got business to talk about with Bowser for my own uh...faction." he said, his gravelly voice carrying the wind of fatigue in its intonation.

"Mm." Miranda said, still looking straight ahead.

"So...I know going after these bandits is your thing, and I'm totally on board for that. I'm just gonna need to negotiate a little with the King after we get the terms and all that settled."

"Mmhm." Miranda uttered, her eyebrows flattening out into a nonplussed stare. Wow, she was really occupied with something. Drake just let out a sharp sigh from between his puckered lips and turned around to wait to be called into the chamber.

[Albert Wesker]

Outwardly, Colonel remained the picture of perfect calm. He merely followed along behind the others, his unblinking stare flicking from one side to the other, taking in details and curiosities of the place. Designed more for intimidation and ostentatiousness than any sort of tactical bearing such a fortress might normally be used for. Confusing layout, looked like it was intentionally designed to confuse any would-be interlopers that didn't have a guide that knew the place. When the blue-shelled koopa that had been guiding them instructed them to wait, even Colonel's implacable facade cracked with a deep huff of annoyance. It was all so predictable it was becoming rote at this juncture. It was exactly what he had expected, only even more bland and monotonous.

Dealing with apparent royalty under such tenuous circumstances was rarely ever expedient or enjoyable in any fashion, but this was just dull.

To pass the time, Colonel once again produced his dataverse device. In hushed tones, he made a simple order, "Run a search for any readily available information on this Bowser. I'd rather not walk in entirely blind."

"At once, sir!" came the rapid response of the navi occupying the device. It took only the work of a few moments before the search was completed. "Search complete. Minimal information available, here is what was located."

The information that had been found was scarce, indeed. If nothing else it gave the soldier navi some idea of what he was dealing with here. "Well done." He read through it as quickly as he could, not wanting to be caught waiting when — and if, for that matter — they were actually called in for an audience. From what he was seeing, good King Bowser wasn't known for being the most...amiable of monarchs. Hopefully their meeting wouldn't go as poorly as some of the recorded attempts at meeting with him had in the past.

A sudden, deep rumble of a roar, echoing clearly through the doorway their blue-shelled guide had gone through grabbed his attention, and the following snarl of "YOU JUST OFFERED THEM AN AUDIENCE WITHOUT MAKING SURE I WASN'T BUSY FIRST?!"

The mood in the hall outside the room went through a sharp turn, and even Colonel looked dumbfounded for once. He just slowly blinked, lowering his dataverse device to stow it away again. "It's never a good time for some people," he said flatly.

Another dim grumble resounded through the door before it creaked open, their blue-shelled guide poking his head out, looking sheepish. "I, uh...my apologies. His Ghastliness will see you now." And he pushed open the door the rest of the way, a second koopa guard taking hold of the opposite door and hauling it open as well.

Deep red carpet ran the length of the room, heading down an aisle flanked by torch sconce-toting columns in the shape of....some kind of monstrosity's head. Judging from the paintings in the hall, they looked to be in resemblance to King Bowser himself.

"Subtle, huh?" Drake offered, drawing a collective look of mild displeasure from every koopa within earshot, and a short chuckle from Zack.

Approaching the throne, they finally laid eyes on the big reptile himself, heralded by their blue-shelled guide. "King Bowser, this is the group I mentioned."

"Yes, I can see that," the giant turtle of terror grumbled, clacking his clawed fingers against the arm of his throne. Fiery red eyes glared down at the group of four assembled there, looking from one face to the next. "So. What it is you came here about?" He squinted his eyes in either suspicion or thought, it was hard to tell. "It can't really have been about that bandit notice, not as old as it is."

Colonel remained unimpressed, his usual cold mask of neutrality not cracking under the immense weight of the turtle tyrant's gaze, and he merely turned a sidelong glance at the others. They were the ones with business here.

[Miranda Frost]

[/i]"What do you pissants want?"[/i] was the general feel of the giant Koopa's expression of greeting. The dragon, err no... turtle.. ah well... Koopa's form was quite on the rotund side, but Miranda knew herself that had to be all muscle considering how heavy the shell the King was carrying around. So far first impressions were great. Miranda respects the strong.

She brushed the ash colored hair from her face and stepped foreward into a kneel. The King Koopa maybe honest in his own right, but Miranda was not. She cared little for these pleasantries. but the self-interested Bowser may enjoy such treatment. FIrst impressions mattered greatly. This being controlled a huge bit of the Ashen Plains. Kinda hard to travel within those boundries with a pissed monarch wanting your head on a stake.

She rose from her bow and crossed her arms, a smirk forming behind her steel mask. "I guess the real question is, 'What do you want?'.", She unrolled the old flyer at her side and presented it to the King. "We initially wanted to state our interest in this job, but i guess news can move slow in this country.", she chuckled and balled up the sheet of parchment, slipping the crumpled remains in her pocket.

"However, I hear there maybe something else floating about. While we are here perhaps we can assist on that end. ", she turned and gestured to the others with a light wave of her gloved hand. "But know that each of us is here for our own reasons. We each have a different... eh... price."

"Where are my manners, Dear King? Allow me to introduce myself. I am Miranda Frost, Commander of the Black Knights, 4th Chapter, 8th Division.", she announced, the hollowed title echoeing from the stone walls to her ears. What's a commander without her men or a banner? She sighed and glanced up at the King who returned his blazing gaze over them, a pointed claw scratching at his chin.

And then there was the finger tapping on her shoulder. She turned her head and found Zack trying to get her attention. What could really be the problem here?

"You were a Knight? You dont look very... 'Knightly' to me. Didn't you say you were a Raider?", Zack asked out of dumb curiosity.

And there it was. Miranda sighed and slipped a black glove from her hand. Gripping the leather glove by its fingers, she turned and with a loud "Snap" Miranda slapped the Soldier before slipping the glove back over the exposed mechanical workings of her hand. She would have been sorry for him, but it just felt too good.

He covered and rubbed his face, now crimson and swollen from the impact. He whined and called out to her, taking a few steps back. "What was that for?!" he asked in a fairly loud and confused voice. She simply shrugged and looked at the others. Colonel himself returned her gaze in his usual stoic manner while Drake looked away. The heavily scarred man probably was wondering the same things. She bet he was glad not to be the one to ask that question.

"I'd introduce yourself if I were you. Only then we can get to the nitty gritty terms of service"

[Zack Fair]

For just a second, Zack went briefly cross-eyed at the impact on his face. What the hell? He rubbed his still burning cheek while wincing a bit in pain, shooting an annoyed glare to Miranda while she looked at the other members of their group. Granted, he had no idea what had possessed him to ask her that question here and now, right before Bowser, but he certainly hadn't expected that level of reaction. After all, he'd kept it in a low voice to not attract much attention.

He tilted his head a bit as the feeling came back into that side of his face, and at the same time he flexed his jaw just a little bit just to make sure it still worked. That had been a hell of a hit, for just a glove.

Deciding that they didn't need to get into any sort of squabble right before the Koopa overlord, who they were hoping to get some info and work out of, he let it go, for now, when Miranda didn't answer his question of just what the hell that was all about. He knew one thing, and that was that he certainly wouldn't be asking anything more about where she had come from, since it apparently triggered that sort of response. He'd been respectful towards her injuries and her past, but that evidently didn't get him any credit, so he'd just keep on focusing on the here and now.

"Yea, I'm Zack, by the way," he said, briefly raising his arm up as if it were roll call. The Koopa King looked to him and snorted, clearly unimpressed with the dysfunction of the group before him.

He pondered what titles he could add onto it, but decided that simply his first name covered it for now. Bringing up his position as a first class member of SOLDIER or his former affiliation with ShinRa in general was a moot point, as he'd obviously left all of that stuff behind when he left the organization. It had turned him into a bit of a vagabond, and it was hard to process the thought that all he had worked towards in his life had been thrown out the window. It was certainly sobering, but he was again forced to remind himself that this really wasn't the time or place to be milling that over. So he left his introduction as simply that. Zack.

The Ex-SOLDIER shrugged as he glanced around, briefly, then looked back to Bowser. If he ever found that piranha plant that had told him about the bandits, he'd have a few words for him about staying current with the news. Then again, he could easily imagine word traveling somewhat slowly here.

He shot a look over to the group once more as he waited for someone to speak. Colonel was stoic as always, Miranda was still snarling about whatever had offended her, and Drake already looked like he wanted to change the subject. Zack realized he'd have to get the ball rolling.

"Bandits or not, you still have a problem that could use a little outside help, right?" Zack asked as he returned his gaze to Bowser for the final time. "That's what we're here for, and we're pretty good at it."

Zack glanced amongst the group, realizing that he was, of course, making a pretty wild assumption based on the limited experience they all had together. After all, Drake's grand arrival was pretty much the most impressive thing that any of them had done in front of each other, but he had a pretty good feeling about the team. So he spoke with plenty of confidence, hoping it would be enough to persuade the turtle-like overlord.

He gave one more shrug and a grin. After all, what did the guy have to lose?

[Tearen Wover]

Some people might assume that Drake would be utterly snide and dismissive of egomaniacs, such as Bowser. Certainly, the smuggler had no real respect for authority, and did find such people tiresome. On the other hand, one must remember that Drake also had zero sense of pride or shame, so Nealaphh really had made the correct choice for the person to pander to Bowser's ego. In the back of his mind, as Drake marched forwards and threw himself to the ground in a grovelling bow, he was slightly concerned what the others, especially Miranda, might think of the ensuing display. Ultimately though, being eternally resigned to a state of ennui, Drake didn't especially care. He had a job to do.

The Smuggler bent down on one knee and inclined his head downwards, removing his cap and holding it over his chest. His right hand extended to the side, as if pleading the good king to heed his desperate words. Drake's voice adopted a pitiable, awestruck timbre, dripping with an excess of drama and gravitas.

"Greetings, your most Wicked Highness. I am, if I may be so bold, Drake Oneir, of the Omniverse Institute."

Bowser said nothing, still leaning to the side on his throne, chin held in a clawed hand. The other hand tapped restlessly on the arm of his throne. He wasn't used to this kind of treatment from anyone other than his Koopas, let alone another Prime. It was kind of weird, but in a good way. Maybe.

"My Master, Nealaphh, seeks your gracious assistance in its hour of need. Perhaps you have heard that the Institute seeks to slay that noisome and terrible beast, Volvagia. Truly, a blight upon all of the Ashen Steppes. A beast whose offspring even now, ravage your keeps and harry your people."

Bowser blinked.

"Uh..."

Drake continued, knowing that if he stopped talking he would give the King a chance to actually process the words and make see through the facade that was going on here.

"If you could find it within your black and nightmarish heart to lend the aid of your noble Koopa Troops to this cause, Master Nealaphh would be forever indebted to your kingdom and kin. There is no request that could be made so as to be unequitable in exchange."

Unequitable, was that actually a word? Was it supposed to be inequitable? Fuck it. Keep talking.

"Already Nealaphh has garnered the help of Ambrosia and the Gorons of Death Mountain. Together, surely we all can end this savage threat to the prosperity of the Ashen Wastes, and will be a tribute to your ongoing and malicious legacy of power and wisdom."

Bowser blinked again. Now he was sitting up in his throne, pressed back into the cushy trappings with a notably bewildered expression.

"Uhhh..."

"Please, King Bowser. In all of your dark potency, lend your aid to the Institute. The Steppes need you. The Omniverse..."

Drake now rose his gaze to look deep into the contracted pupils of the marshmallow dinosaur idiot. It wasn't often he got to make this much of an ass of himself to such productive ends.

"The Omniverse needs you!"

[Albert Wesker]

The giant of a turtle from hell stared at the group before him with his expression unmoving, locked into a twisted grimace of irritation and confusion at the sheer unlikeliness of the situation. When Miranda mentioned there being other trouble they might be able to assist with, barring the situation from so long ago with the bandit issue, the monarch only narrowed his eyes. "Yeah, maybe there is some other trouble," he grudgingly admitted, his eyes sweeping to one side to fix the nearest koopa with a positively incendiary stare. The poor turtle, even not facing his king to see it, shivered reflexively. The incompetence sometimes on display among his Troop was infuriating...

Then his eyes snapped back to Miranda in the space of a single blink as she made mention of introducing herself. It really wasn't like the giant turtle tyrant cared...but he just let out a low huff of breath, only faintly laced with smoke and said nothing. Miranda Frost. Some unnecessarily fancy title about knights or something. Fascinating. He resisted the immense urge to roll his eyes. "Yeah, yeah, great, fantastic....nice to meet you."

The ensuing kerfuffle when Miranda smacked one of her companions upside the face with her glove didn't even draw so much as a smirk from the tyrant. Not even another irritated huff. It reminded him too much of the moronic nature his own troops displayed for that.

When Zack spoke up an introduced himself, it only drew a "hmph" from the king. Such an informal introduction. Refreshing. "Yeah, bandits aside there's always trouble around here. Not all of it from the outside." A small jet of flame whuffed out of each nostril as he let out an irritated growl. "At this point we don't have the luxury of turning down outside help."

And then there was the next one, and oh boy was this one a treat. It wasn't exactly a bad feeling, per se, but it was just plain odd. He could only blink at the nonstop torrent of stupid pleading and attempts to sound pitiable that came falling out of the mouth of the man that introduced himself as Drake Oneir.

When he finally finished with his whole spiel, ending with his "The Omniverse needs you!" Bowser could only slowly lean forward, one scaled hand over his eyes, letting out a long, deep breath of frustration. "Right, right, yeah....we'll talk about that when we get to terms and whatnot. Not like we don't have the turtlepower to spare..."

He lifted his eyes, his expression having adopted an annoyed, bored cast, ready to get this over with more than anything, and settled on the final one among the odd group, who had said nothing to this point.

The soldier program lifted his sword arm up, across his chest, point crossing over his opposite shoulder, and inclined his head. It was an odd gesture, but it wasn't easy to figure out what it was: a salute. "My name is Colonel. I am a soldier, initially here by chance, and have signed on to assist in the matters of Miranda and Zack in quelling the bandit problem." He dropped his sword arm back down to his side. "Though with that issue seeming on the back burner, I'll still lend my sword to the other issues at hand." He paused for a moment, before he added, "....and I am also a member of the Omniverse Institute, and would second the request of Mister Oneir. That would be further reason for my lending assistance and compensation enough."

The giant dino-turtle just clacked his claws on the arm of his throne, slowly leaning back once again. "Right...all well and good." He turned to the koopa he had terrified with the weight of his disapproving gaze moments before. "Did you manage to get that report about the incident written up?"

The comparatively tiny turtle snapped to attention and nodded in the affirmative. "Yes we did, Your Surliness!"

"Great. Get a copy made for each of these guys." He waved a hand lazily at the collection of four, and the koopa saluted and scuttled off with all due haste. He turned his gaze back to the motley collection of Primes before him and leaned forward, arms resting on his knees now. "Right then...I'm guessing you'll be wanting details on what this is all about." Without waiting for a response he growled out another whuff of fire. "Suffice to say someone broke in and stole a very important item. And only that item."

He closed his eyes, looking very much agitated as he continued, one foot tapping incessantly at the floor. The ground below it seemed to crack and splinter as his claws clacked against it. "How they got in, much less managed to avoid detection, we don't know. Who they were or why they even wanted it, we don't know. But the item they took....it's not good to have out there who knows where. It's got an important function and it could do some real badness in the wrong hands." He snapped his eyes open, the glare of the many torches flickering in the angry glare he directed down at the group. "I'd bet my throne some unsavory group that moved into the Steppes lately has some connection to all this. It just stinks of conspiracy and it's too convenient to be unconnected. And that whole massacre of North Village...." He shook his head. "Despicable. Completely unnecessary. Can't even conquer something if it's dead and gone."

"And one last thing...." He lowered his voice. "Call me paranoid or crazy, but I'm positive the Empire is involved in this somehow. They're got a spy here, or a double agent or something. Always watching. No idea what for, but with those crazy bunch? It doesn't really matter. So keep your heads down." He leaned back in his throne. "Take care of that particular issue and I might have a little something extra for you all when this is said and done. I don't like uninvited guests."