- - - — Present Day — - - -

Red woke up and ow ow ow...

Everything wet. Hand on his stomach. Not his.

He blinked, once, twice, groaned, and through the haze of delirious soreness he could perceive Clover's face floating over him, brows drawn down with worry. She seemed about as tired as he felt, though the few fireflies hanging around the ceiling might've just been casting strange shadows.

Another face floated close to hers, smaller and half-covered with wide circular glasses, some mousy brunette girl. Then, a tight feeling in his stomach, both painful and empty.

"Bacon," he said, words slurred. "Someone... need... food..."

Clover closed her eyes, sighing, and the mousy girl kneeling beside her drew back, and now Red felt the loss of contact on his skin. He frowned, looking up at her from what he now felt was the ground. "You're not supposed to touch people when they're asleep."

The mousy girl immediately lit up pink, and Clover chuckled with exhausted humor.

"I think he's fine now," the latter said.

"He better be," the former grumbled. "Stupid kid..."

As the seconds ticked by Red felt better and better. Slowly afraid to strain something or inflame an already disappearing soreness of muscle, he sat up and looked around.

Aside from Clover and the mouse there was a whole roomful of faces, most of them looking over at him, curious and as ragged as the next. One looked much like Clover, though sterner and with a few more wrinkles.

He looked groggily back at them, feeling alright now all things considered, even if his head hurt a bit. He reached up to hold it, felt something sticky, drew his hand back, and saw it covered with half-dried blood.

"... Metal." Looking down at himself, he noticed that his whole body seemed just about coated with the stuff, all up and down his exposed chest. "Dude, metal as hell. Wait." All at once, he recalled the last thing he had been doing, the memory crashing down on him like a falling anvil. "Wait, the fuck... no... I lost?!"

At this, Clover put him under the most exasperated of glares. "If you'd call 'almost bleeding out to death' losing, then yeah, I'd say so. Lila here pretty much regrew your entire abdomen."

Lila raised her hands and showed off the white glow that seemed to cling to them like translucent oven mitts. Slowly, the white light faded, and she reached up to adjust her glasses. "I wouldn't have even been able to do that with anyone normal. You're lucky you have so much Spirit. It's honestly kind of inhuman..."

Red didn't pay her any mind. Instead he threw himself back, head hitting the floor, hands covering his face. "Dammit, I had that Legolas-looking bastard too! He was right there!"

Groaning, he kicked his feet up and started stomping on the ground with loud thumps. The others moved away as he did, weirded out and also nervous at how much force he seemed to use.

"Not fair, dude! They jumped me right after I got done fighting some other lady!"

No one knew what to make of this outburst, particularly given their current circumstances, and Clover could see Red's complete lack of tension was starting to get on some nerves. All of them trapped there, disheveled and hungry and awaiting the possible end of the world as far as they knew, then suddenly this guy gets dropped on them after being announced as the troublemaker they'd all been framed for helping.

Clover would have been more than a little angry to see him this carefree too, had she not already been somewhat familiar with the boy's attitude. Either way, she had a few questions of her own. "What are you doing here, Red? How'd you even get in?"

Red's feet clattered to a stop and he sat up again, scowling. "Who cares about all that?" he said, waving her off. "I gotta get my rematch. Y'know where the bad guys went?"

"... The bad guys?"

"Yeah, y'know, the elf and the statue person."

"You mean Harmony," said Daphne, drawing forward.

Red grimaced. "I dunno, everyone kept calling 'em 'Director,' " he said, quoting with his fingers. " 'Director' this, 'Director' that... What was that thing anyway?"

Daphne shook her head, brow furrowed. "Harmony is a fairy, as Mystic a being as you'll find in the world. Usually they keep out of sight, enough that they don't develop language, or gender, or anything you'd find in any kind of society. Harmony is an exception in almost every way." Here she sighed, holding her forehead, and seeing her so distressed made Clover place a comforting hand on her shoulder. "They've even learned how to lie well enough."

Red grunted. "I guess they also learned how to gloat like a supervillan."

He stood slowly, afraid to strain anything, and the crowd around him took a wary step back. Now on his feet, Red held his hands out before him, flexing them open and into fists over and over, rolling his shoulders, stretching his neck, and he felt pretty good. Surprisingly good, in fact.

"Nice," he said, turning to Lila. "Hey, you were healing me, right? Sweet powers."

Lila looked at him with a crease between her eyes, unsure whether to feel flattered or offended. "Um, you're welcome?"

"Alright," Red said, hands on his hips. "Someone point me to this Harmony, then."

The others stared, silent.

When no one said anything, Red stared back. "What?"

Sam, sitting hunched over, his head propped up on folded arms, sighed up at him. "We're sorta trapped here," he said, pointing a thumb at the amber door nearby.

Red turned around to face it, then went to get a closer look. The crowd parted for him, silently watching the boy stride shamelessly through them until he came to the door and tried an experimental push. It didn't budge, so he knocked it with a dull tap. Seemed pretty solid, alright. "Did you try breaking it down?

"No," Sam muttered. "We just sat here happily."

Red nodded, the sarcasm lost on him. "Does look pretty tough... Okay." Feet wide for balance, the boy drew his arm back, fist curling.

With a sharp intake of breath, Red punched the door. A loud thwack broke through the silence, like something large and solid falling flat on the ground, but the amber door didn't budge

Daphne leaned close to Clover. "Who is that boy?"

"A Ranger from my Outpost," Clover said. She winced when Red punched the door again, much to the same lack of effect. "He's... new."

After a third useless punch, Red frowned and looked at his fist.

Then, a second later, the door began to glow. Something sizzled inside it, and soon enough a dark spot grew at its center. The spot grew and grew until fire suddenly erupted from it, burning in a ring around the newly made hole, expanding to the rest of the door, charring it all into thick black mush.

Daphne leaned close to Clover again. "You said he was new?"

"That wasn't him!" Clover said, standing up. She shoved her way through the crowding Scouts, and by the time she made it to the front the hole in the door had opened enough that they could all look clear through it and into the next room over.

Standing there, a reddened and steaming hand held out towards them, stood Malcolm. He looked about as well as he had that morning, if a little more dirty and heavy-eyed, but it had been a long day for all of them so who could blame him?

"Thank god," Clover said, stepping forward to hug him. It was a quick and tired embrace, but seeing it let the other Scouts know this wasn't an enemy, and they all visibly slackened with relief. "I was getting worried!"

"I'm not the one jailed up," Malcolm said, patting her back. Drawing away, he then sent Red a pointed glare. "And I'm not the one who got caught."

Red gave him a deadpan look. "Were you really expecting me not to get caught?"

"... I hate that you're right."

Well, no use staying here. Hands going into his pockets, Red stepped through the hole Malcolm had made. "Anyway, Four-Eyes, how'd you even— Oh."

Walking out, he noticed the bound and gagged security guards huddled against the wall. The two satyrs—for these had apparently been the two left to stand outside the cell—glared up at him, garbling through the thick knot made from what looked like strips sheared from their own togas. The same improvised cloth had been used to tie their wrists and ankles together, arms held behind their backs so they could only shift awkwardly around on the ground.

"Oh man," Red said, genuinely put out at the sight. "You're telling me you actually won a fight and I wasn't even there to see it?!"

Malcolm sighed, coming up to stand beside him. "Why do you have to be like this..."

The two Rangers looked down at the two guards, one with tired indifference and the other with clear interest. He'd seen it plenty in movies, but Red hadn't ever actually had hostages before.

The Scouts hesitantly stepped out of the cell behind them, noticing the bound guards at once. They began murmuring to each other, but no one seemed particularly troubled. Having just been held captive themselves, it seemed fair enough to do the same in turn, at least until they were all far away enough for it not to matter.

Red crouched before the satyrs and started poking one on the nose. The Greenkin pulled back, head shaking, but Red kept poking him anyway.

At that point Malcolm figured things here were about as under control as could be expected. He turned and walked towards Clover, who stood talking to Daphne and a couple of other Scouts. "So, what's the plan?" he asked. "They'll send someone to check up on you guys eventually. I heard them saying they'd send food, at least."

Hearing that, many of the Scouts closed their eyes, tasting a savory imagination after hours of forced starvation. Sam in particular held his stomach, mumbling something about how he should've gone for seconds at the opening ceremony, and even Malcolm struggled with the idea of waiting any longer for something to eat, having not had anything since early morning.

Daphne had gone through her fair share of hunger the last few days, but she could also see it was probably a bit too late to just sit and wait for a feast to fall on their laps.

"We'll have to try and break out," she said, arms crossed. "At least we're not too far up the Tree. Did you hear anything else?"

Malcolm held his chin, trying to recall the exact words. Even invisible he'd been scared standing there in the presence of the Councilmembers, not to mention all the guards they'd brought and thankfully left with. But thankfully, that hadn't gotten in the way of his ability to listen.

"They called it 'Operation Checkmate,' " he said. "I don't know what that means, really, but whatever it is, it's starting tonight. The fairy went up for some kind of ritual." Daphne's face tightened, and the Scouts seemed to all pale at the words. "I'm assuming that's not good?"

Clover shook her head, rubbing her forehead. " There's... well, there's a chance this ritual you're talking about is gonna end the world, basically."

Malcolm blinked at her, and the two stared at each other in silence until eventually he opened his mouth and said the only thing he really could:

"Uuuuuuha?"

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They explained everything they knew about the reports of crop failure, the strange blackening of harvests, the countless assassination orders to distract the RC while the High Council went ahead with plans that all of a sudden made all too much sense to Malcolm, considering what he'd found during his own investigations.

All the while, Red poked at an increasingly irritated satyr guard, not bothering to listen to whatever everyone else was talking about.

"Okay... that's pretty bad," Malcolm eventually said, walking over to the wall and leaning a hand against it. The whole world shifted under his feet, but somehow he managed not to fall. "We... we should tell the RC right away. Have them send some Enforcers here. I know they're busy with all the assassination attempts, but c'mon, if we just explain what's going on they'd have to come."

"We'd have to escape first," Daphne said, arms crossed. "Phone lines are cut, and you can bet any messages we could send by crow would get intercepted. Plenty of pixie guards up in the air, and all the security force seems in on it."

"Right." Malcolm nodded, and slowly but surely his blanked of cool resolution came over him. The fear and doubt receded, a small candle flame in his gut covered by a shell of hard steel. "Right. How long do we have?"

"I don't know. It depends how long this ritual will take."

Malcolm pushed off the wall, thinking. They needed some kind of timetable to plan around, if only to put their minds at ease.

Then, lightbulb! If the guards were in on it...

He turned to the two bound satyrs sitting nearby. Nearing, Malcolm crouched before the one Red wasn't mildly tormenting and pulled the gag off. Just as the greenkin made to shout for help, the bespectacled Ranger covered his mouth with a hand that grew warm against his skin.

"I'm going to ask you questions," Malcolm said, voice lacking all emotion. "When I take my hand off, you're going to answer them. Shout, and I'll burn your face off. Deal?"

The look in his eyes must've been particularly threatening because it only took a second for the satyr to watch fearfully, look down in acceptance, then nod. Watching the exchange while crouched in front of his own hostage, Red for the first time looked at Malcolm with something like respect. "Dude, cool."

Malcolm sent him a look, Not now please, then narrowed back on the satyr guard. "How long does this ritual your director is doing take?" he asked, and pulled back his hand.

The satyr's pupils dilated and shaking, he wet his lips and rasped out an answer. "A few m-minutes. T-Ten, f-f-fifteen, I don't know!"

Now Malcolm covered his mouth again, hand still warm. "Stop panicking," he said, not at all comfortingly. "Now, how long after the ritual will the crop failures start?"

Hand removed, the satyr took a steadying breath. "They'll st-start immediately," he said, wading through his words. "B-but it won't be all at once. The whole p-process... should be around a day. One farm after another..."

Malcolm covered his mouth again, thinking. A question suddenly drifted up into awareness, inspired by one of several stray comments he'd been lucky enough to hear. "Your director said the elf could be their Knight. What did they mean by that?"

When he pulled his hand back this time, the satyr didn't answer. Malcolm knew there was an answer when the satyr glanced away, jaw clenched. More than that, the other guard—still gagged and listening intently—seemed to still, for the first time too distracted to pay mind to Red's continued harassment.

"Tell me," Malcolm said, hand coming up. Spurts of steam sprouted from his fingertips.

"I d-don't know," the satyr said, head shaking. "They didn't tell us everything."

"You know. Tell me now."

"I'm telling you, I d-don't know anything about it!"

Before Malcolm could make another threat, Red waved for attention. "Ooh, let me try," he said, and took the other satyr's arm before, with absolutely zero preparation or warning, he snapped it at the bicep like a Kit-Kat bar.

The crack echoed and the satyr screamed into his gag, roiling and writhing in sheer agony, head banging against the wall in a repeated, arhythmic thwack. His whole body convulsed out of any control, pelvis plucking off the ground, tied hooves kicking against the hardwood floor, neck swinging all around like a bobblehead, eyes wide and crying, gag filling with the saliva of desperation.

Having watched these proceedings with sick curiosity, the Scouts now recoiled, mouths agape in muted gasps. Even Malcolm watched the unceremonious instant of violence with momentary surprise, the utter suddenness of it breaking through his careless facade.

Red was the only one smiling, holding the flabby arm he'd fractured up to them like he was showing them all some nifty trick. Eyes shining with pride, he looked over at the satyr Malcolm had been interrogating.

"Hey, tell us everything or I break this guy's other arm, okay?"

Malcolm's satyr was more horrified than anyone else, staring open-mouthed as his colleague shook uncontrollably, a tireless series of screams muffled by the makeshift gag. When he made no effort to speak—and who could really blame his needing a second to process the demand—Red hummed and followed through on his promise.

Taking his guard's other arm, he casually bent it at a ninety-degree angle, the snap piercing the air like a sharp drumbeat.

The poor satyr, both arms now broken, went through another round of seizures, tear streaks plain down his cheeks, eyes almost white in a rising insanity.

Nearby, Clover covered her mouth, gulping down the bubbling bile. "Jesus Christ..."

Now Red scratched his head, considering the body which roiled before him. "He's gonna run out of limbs if we go on like this... Maybe I should do the fingers before the legs?"

"I'll talk!" Malcolm's satyr said, shouting. One sharp look from Malcolm quieted him, though, and now he spoke in an earnest whisper. "I'll tell you anything you want, just... Shit, just leave him be!"

Grinning, Red gave Malcolm a thumbs up, and the latter didn't know whether to reciprocate or condemn it. In a moment he settled on neither—the situation was dire enough that they could talk about how fucked up that had been later.

Turning back to his satyr hostage, Malcolm dropped his burning hand. Threats weren't necessary anymore, clearly. "What is the Knight thing about?"

"It's a title," the satyr said, talking fast. "Or a codename, I'm not sure. The Council uses them for secret communications. Knight, Rook, Bishop, you know, like that board game. We're..." he gulped. "We're Pawns. At least, that's how we thought of it."

At this, Red barked a laugh. "You guys call yourselves pawns with, like, zero irony?"

So Silviamon wasn't the only one with a pseudonym. Malcolm supposed it made sense; Bishop might be the one handling all the files, but if the others had to be put in paper for whatever reason they'd need their real names hidden too.

"I'm guessing Alexander is Rook," Malcolm said. "The elf is the new Knight, Silviamon is Bishop... I guess the director is King?"

"Queen," the satyr said, glancing over and over to his friend, who still lay against the wall in utter agony. "There never was a King. Or if there was, we never heard about it! I swear on that!"

Malcolm narrowed his eyes, staring at the satyr. Eventually he nodded. "I believe you."

"What does it matter anyway?" Red said. He stretched his arms up, cracking a kink in his back. "The important thing is that we gotta stop this ritual, right?"

"Better to know everything now," Malcolm said, putting the satyr's gag back on. "It might end up being important. But for now you're right. No, wait." Standing up, he turned to Clover and the others, many of whom had chosen to look away throughout the interrogation. "Mrs. Fall was right. Our first priority should be to escape and let the RC know what's happening. We're surrounded and probably can't win a straight-up fight, but if even one of us gets away the Enforcement Bureau can definitely straighten things out."

Daphne nodded, so did Clover, and seeing them so confident made most of the other Scouts agree with little argument. Still, some remained skeptical or, more accurately, fearful. Five out of fifty eventually chose to stay behind—they'd only slow the others down, they said, and perhaps they would have if they were so quick to give up, so Malcolm figured it was for the best regardless of their intentions.

As the rest of them organized, strategizing formations and planning their route, Red raised a hand, still sitting by the two satyr guards. "Yo, Glowy Hands!"

Lila turned to him along with some others. Red waved her over, and after a few nervous glances she shuffled closer.

"Could you use your power to fix this guy's arms?" Red asked.

Now Lila's hesitation turned to surprise. "You... want to help him?"

"Sure. I mean, I'm not a total jerk." He watched her crouch alongside him, hands reaching for the satyr's arms. "How do you do that anyway?"

The guard was by now almost paralyzed in shock, so he hardly felt when Lila covered the place where his bones had fractured with glowing hands. The other guard sighed, mumbling something with what seemed a grateful expression.

"It's not really healing," Lila said. Doing her work seemed to calm her, and she spoke with soft confidence. This was the sort of thing she'd explained countless times before, and by now she had the whole speech practically memorized. "I draw out the body's Spirit and let it heal itself. The stronger the Spirit, the faster it gets rid of the damage."

Red nodded, watching the white light around her hands. "Is that stuff your Spirit?"

"Something like that."

"Woah. I've never seen any before."

Lila supposed he was new after all. "Most Tricks don't let you see it like this," she said. "Usually it gets used to make you stronger or faster or make something like fire the way your friend does." The light faded from her hands, and she gave an exhale. The satyr's arms were straight again, though he'd fallen unconscious at some point, so now she turned to the other one. "Okay. He's gonna feel sore for a while, but the bones should be set, so just tell him to take it easy. Er, whenever you guys end up getting untied, that is."

"Lila! Red!"

They both turned to see Clover with arms akimbo, gesturing at the rest. With one last look at the bound satyrs, they hurried over to the Scouts, who crowded around Daphne.

"We'll be going down the platform," Daphne said. "The tunnels are too risky, and since it's raining there's likely to be less folks hanging around outside. That means we're all coming out of this soaked, but I expect that won't be a problem for anybody." No one complained, even those who looked like they wanted to. "Good. If you have a ranged Trick, stay at the back. Same with you, Lila. If anyone gets hurt on our way down, we're counting on you to get them back on their feet."

The others looked back at her, and Lila bowed under their eyes, but she managed a nod. Standing next to her, Red raised his hand, and when he wasn't immediately called to speak, he started waving it around with growing insistence.

Daphne saw him fine enough, and with a strange look cleared her throat. "Yes? Do you have a question?"

"Yeah," Red said. "Where's Harmony? You guys said they went to their room, or something."

The Scouts stared, and this was beginning to feel routine, not that Red had been bothered by it before. Malcolm, standing among them, palmed his face. "You can't seriously be thinking what I think you're thinking," he muttered.

"What?" Red asked. "They're the boss, right? All we really need to do is beat 'em up and everything'll be fine."

"They're probably surrounded by guards."

"You mean a bunch'a pushovers like these two?" Red pointed over his shoulder at the bound satyrs. "I think I can handle it."

Malcolm crossed his arms. "Be honest, you're just looking to pick a fight."

"Duh." Red held up a hand, preempting a response. "But hear me out. You guys're gonna have a hard time gettin' away, and it'd help to have someone like me making a whole lotta noise somewhere else."

Daphne held her chin, considering it. "A distraction would make things easier..."

Clover grabbed her mother's shoulder. "Mom, we can't just send Red alone! He already almost died!"

"We can't split up either," Daphne said. "If we're making it out into the forest, we'll need the numbers."

Red sighed. How annoying. "I'm going whether you guys want me to or not," he said, hands twining behind his head. "So just tell me where Harmony is and I'll at least be going the right way."

Daphne, Clover, and Malcolm shared one last look between themselves. One clicked his tongue, another rubbed her temple, and the eldest settled a heavy stare on Red.

"Harmony's quarters are at the very top of the Tree," Daphne said. "Right by the Crow's Nest, though you'll reach their quarters first. Just go up the platform and you'll get there."

Red grinned, punching his palm. "Sweet. Heh, maybe you guys won't have to run after all, if I beat 'em fast enough."

A string of mutters met the boy, and Malcolm rolled his eyes. The purity of Red's simple mind was so complete as to be almost impressive.

But fine. The boy had proven himself completely uncontrollable, and it would take too much effort to try and hold him back. Maybe they'd even get lucky and Red would end up taking Harmony down after all. It wouldn't do much to avert the whole apocalypse scenario they were all on the precipice of—chances were the High Council had plenty of contingencies—but it might slow things down and give the RC more time to respond, at least.

Slowly, the Scouts quieted down and looked at Daphne again. She quickly picked up on the same feeling they'd all settled on.

Now or never. All their eyes trailed to the place they'd been trying not to look at: the opening that led to the platform outside, a half-circle void of darkness intermittently lit by faraway lightning. The sounds of rain had been muted all along, and it spoke quite a bit about the acoustics of the room they now stood in, but it had still been audible and had taken effort to ignore.

Once they walked out, it really would turn into an escape attempt. They'd have to fight their way out. They'd get hurt, and have to hurt others. Some of the Scouts looked over to the five who had already decided to stay behind, thinking it wasn't too late. More could opt out.

None did.

Daphne passed her eyes over them all, meeting each and every one of their gazes. "Everyone knows how important this is, so I won't go over it again. We have a mission. We have a plan. And we have each other."

Clover smiled, and though it was strained she raised her voice. "Let's save the world."

No one said it in turn. No one whooped, or clapped, or shouted in excitement. They were all too scared for that. But they did follow Daphne as she led them out of the room and into the rain, faces set, their walk committed.

Red and Malcolm stayed behind for a second as the crowd turned right onto the platform. The latter would go with them, and the former would turn left up the incline. For the second time that day, they'd be splitting up.

Malcolm struggled to find any words that wouldn't sound lame, and really he was still a bit annoyed at the other boy, so in the end all he huffed and let out the only thing he could think to say.

"Good luck. And don't die, I guess."

Red smirked. "Wouldn't that be a load off your shoulders?"

"That's not funny."

Looking at Malcolm, Red was a bit surprised to see the other boy really meant it. Smile softening, he raised a fist. "See ya tomorrow, then."

Malcolm glanced over, adjusted his glasses, and tapped Red's fist lightly with his. "Yeah," he said, lips quirked up. "See you tomorrow."

With that, the boys split off. Thunder boomed. Not five minutes later, a few more guards would arrive accompanied by a group of Saplings, all of them carrying boxed meals. They would find the bound satyrs sitting against the wall, as well as the remaining Scouts who raised their hands at once. It wouldn't take long for the alarm to sound out, and for news to spread:

The Eco-Scouts have rebelled!