Mikasa had appreciated the pizza at first, but as she ate it for the third meal in a row, she realized that its novelty was wearing thin. It was filling, however, and she would not complain about that. She shoved a second piece down her throat as Dante took another sip of coffee.

"So… I got quite the interesting visit last night."

Mikasa reached for a third slice.

"Old dude, long beard, had a little yellow fuzzy thing on his shoulder. He had this really neat idea."

"What?" mumbled Mikasa through a mouthful of crust and sauce.

"He offered to help organize a little fighting tournament. Devil May Cry, Too will cater and host the event, and since we're technically a local business, the town's agreed to give up the coin as the grand prize."

Mikasa swallowed, and wiped a stray string of cheese from her lips.

"Don't you think that could go very wrong, really easily?"

"Maybe," admitted Dante, scooping up a slice of pizza with his off-hand. "But iff erryfing gosh to heck inna hanbashket," he held up a finger and swallowed. "Then I'm the best guy to have around."

Mikasa shook her head, almost smiling. She was definitely feeling better than she had-it had taken the majority of the last two days for the constant stream of pizza to replace the nutrients she had lost to the cakes. Business had been glacier-slow, Mikasa believed there may have been a customer that showed up while she was trying to sleep- could that have been the bearded man? What she had gleaned from the often-absent Dante is that he meant well, but was little more than a man-child with a particular obsession with appearing as dramatic and dangerous as possible, often by throwing his coat into the air, juggling his sword, and throwing darts, usually simultaneously. He was harmless, except when he made stupid decisions, like trying to catch his coat on his legs, or inviting every fighter nearby to the front door.

"Sure you are," she groaned. "But if it's all the same, I'd rather not get caught up in anything."

Dante contorted his face into something that resembled a watery-eyed, young dog. "Aw, but come on! This is a chance for your friends to show up, right?"

"I guess you're right," relented Mikasa. "But I'm only around to look for them. I don't need to fight."

"No, no you don't, unless you feel particularly motivated to sign up."

"Okay, yeah. Whatever."

"Good to hear that you're on board. The entrants will be showing up in about ten minutes."

Mikasa froze, a piece of pizza halfway through her mouth.

"Wha-?"

"Yep. I'm going to go start fixing some sundaes," said the man, hopping away from the table.

Mikasa grumbled a few curses as she got up from the table and returned to the little mat she'd been spending most of the past two days on. It was sheltered from the light by the pool table, the legs of which formed a nice little nook for her to store her 3DMG. It had a full tank of gas and a complete set of blades, since she didn't have a chance to use it before they had gotten captured and separated. She clipped the system back on, straightened out the wrinkles in her jacket, and tied her scarf back around her neck.

Might as well look professional.

She wandered back to the bar to find it covered with ornate glass dishes filled with a fluffy white substance and topped with something pinkish. Dante was assembling them at a truly remarkable speed, shoveling the fluff out of a large paper drum while ladling the syrup from a pot.

Maybe that's why he juggles swords while throwing darts.

Dante looked up from his work, still cranking out sundaes at an astonishing rate. "Hey, why don't you grab the guestbook from by the door? You can do the registration, just grab a table from in here and move it outside."

Mikasa nodded back. She may have preferred not to do the work, but it would put her closer to reuniting with her team- the registration desk would be the first place for them to show up, right? She picked up a nearby table and slung it over her shoulder, snagging the guestbook on the way out. She shimmied the bulky table through the door and set it down lightly, sliding it to just underneath a window. Mikasa placed the book in the center, opened it to the first page, set the attached pen in the middle, and prepared to wait. As it turned out, she didn't have to wait long.

The air in front of the table parted, sliding away to reveal a dimly-lit room. Two figures stepped out of the darkness and into the desert sun, and the air sealed back up behind them. Mikasa had seen some very unusual things as of late, but this was among the strangest. She would have been more concerned, but since the people that walked through the mysterious doorway did not seem to be attacking, she assumed they were there for the tournament, and pushed the guestbook forward for them.

They could not have been more different from one another. On the left, a tall, dark figure, clad in a heavy, sleek body suit and a dramatic cape. His head was completely covered by a skeletal-looking helmet with buglike eyes, and he seemed to be emitting a rhythmic click-wheeze-click sound. His companion to the right was a young woman clad in an oddly-patterned deep blue dress and matching cap. Her platinum-blonde hair (which bore more than a passing resemblance in color to Dante's) was cut into a very short bob, which framed her golden eyes against her pale skin. It was an otherworldly sort of beauty- Mikasa figured it was what the royalty looked like. The helmeted figure arrived at the table first, stomping his way into place with a few more clicks and wheezes.

"Is this the location of the tournament?" he asked, the words booming and modulated almost beyond understanding.

Mikasa nodded. "Apparently. Are you two a team?"

"We are," he replied. He took the pen and scribbled something into one of the columns. "Where do you wish for us to go?"

"Oh, I'm not the organizer," pointed out Mikasa. "I'm just doing registration. I'm sure everybody else will be here soon enough." The helmeted man nodded, but stayed put. Mikasa quickly realized that his companion was staring very intently at her.

"Can I help you?"

The new girl blinked, and drew a large, ancient-looking book from nowhere in particular. She paged through the yellow sheets, occasionally looking back up at Mikasa, until she found what she was looking for. She pulled something out from between the pages and held it out- a card, and a familiar one at that. A woman stood over a huge, feral beast, seemingly under her control. At the bottom of the card, a set of characters read 'VIII'.

"Strength," said the girl. "Am I correct?"

Mikasa remembered that card- it had been some time ago, but she was certain she still had it in her room somewhere. The version this perplexing girl had was different from hers, of course. Mikasa's was hand-drawn by Adam, with thin, ornate lines, while this one used a bolder, more minimalistic style. But it was certainly the same thing, the eighth major arcana of the tarot, Strength.

"Yes," she said, half-stunned. "How did you-"

"It stands for not only strength of mind and body, but control over the bestial nature of humanity," interrupted the newcomer. "I sense that you have already begun your journey to learn the true meaning of Strength."

Mikasa was not exactly sure what to make of all of this, especially when she was soon to be overwhelmed with registrants. She smiled and nodded to the girl and waved her and the helmeted man away, slumping back against the wall behind her.

So she knew about the tarot cards… I knew Adam traded a few of those around, but I'm certain I still have mine. So how did she know? Is the book of hers some sort of guide to the deck, or divination with it?

She could have kept going for quite some time, but Mikasa became sure that she had no real answers. And she was also sure that it shouldn't be such a concern- there was no benefit that girl could really gain from knowing something as trivial as that. But as the other warriors began to flood in from the road, Mikasa couldn't stop pondering what she had said.

Control over the bestial nature of humanity… already begun my journey… Could it have something to do with what Masamune told me? That'd have to be it.

A light tap on the head brought her eyes back from the sky to the tall, bearded man in front of her.

"Has everyone signed up?" he asked.

Mikasa shrugged. "I don't know. A lot of people have. Why don't you take the book, if you're the guy organizing this?"

"I suppose I could ask and make sure," agreed Gandalf, picking up the guest book and walking away. The crowds were beginning to form themselves into circles that Mikasa was sure would be used for each fight. She wandered back in the door- it was comparatively quiet in the bar, with only a few patrons appearing to grab a sundae or beverage. Mikasa found a seat and slumped into it.

How did that wear me out so much? Dealing with people, I think. I've had enough of them for one day.

Mikasa was about to put her head down and take a nap, when she realized that she had forgotten something very important.

"The guest book!" she shouted. "I wasn't looking for my friends!" A few patrons gave her a disapproving look, and put a few extra paces between themselves and her.

"What's the trouble, now, little one?" asked a lightly accented voice from the bar. Mikasa turned to find an odd-looking woman approaching her, a little too long-limbed for her own body. She wore ornately-decorated glasses, and held a strawberry sundae with one hand and her spoon with the other.

"Oh, I- I meant to be looking for my other team members out there as they signed the guest book, but I didn't. I got… distracted." It was not something that happened to Mikasa often.

"Don't you think your friends would have noticed you and said something if they were signing up?"

"I- yes, they would, you're right," realized Mikasa. "So they must not be here after all."

"Who knows if they might show up later, though," warned the woman. "You'd probably better keep on out there, looking for them."

Mikasa was a little unsure why someone would be nice enough to help her with such a childish mistake, but she was not going to complain about it. She nodded to the woman and charged back out the door.

"Each team will field a single fighter for every round. If they are too injured to continue, another may take their place," explained Gandalf, standing in the absolute center between the crowds. "If your team wins the round, you move on to the next round. But a single failure will eliminate your team from the tournament."

Mikasa found it a little ironic that a single old man could set up a fighting tournament better than the Master of Games, but knowing his true intentions made his actions seem slightly more logical. The teams were already producing the fighters for the first round, but Mikasa was having trouble seeing further than the closest circle of warriors. She watched a small, plump man in overalls enter the ring, tightening his gloves and tipping his hat.

I've seen him around before. What was his name?

"Mario," said the woman's voice from an uncomfortably close distance. Mikasa was surprised to find the same lady as before leaning against the wall next to her. "He seems like a gentleman, but rumor has it that there's more to him than meets the eye."

Idle gossip was not Mikasa's favorite thing, but since the only group she could see didn't include any members of Team Mockingjay, she guessed there could be worse ways to pass the time, and replied with an "Oh?"

"I haven't asked him myself," the woman continued, "but I have a close friend that plays card games with him on occasion. And though my friend's assertions that Mario always cheats at Go Fish are highly suspect, it seems as though he may actually be a shifty sort of fellow."

Mikasa rolled her eyes, specifically in a direction that would not be visible to the woman, lest she be offended. "Really?"

Mario's opponent, a white-robed man bristling with knives, stepped forward, bowing.

"Salutations, Signore Mario," said Ezio politely. "You know, I had an uncle named Mario."

"Is that-a so? What-a coincidence."

Ezio rose back to his full height, drawing a sword. "A coincidence, and no more! I would never associate myself with someone who makes a mockery of il popolo Italiano!"

"What's-a your problem, paisano?" snickered Mario, adopting a fighting stance and lowering the brim of his hat.

"Really," continued the woman. "He lives in a place called the Mushroom Kingdom, but he's not a local. Originally, he was from a world not too different than mine. Somehow, he traveled through dimensions and ended up there, and proceeded to make a fuss. He thwarted a kidnapping attempt on some royals and got in good with the higher-ups- and made quite the stack of cash, too. Then he used the funds to travel to the Flower Kingdom, their mortal enemies. Turns out they were suffering from a kidnapping, too, so he goes and rescues another princess and the warring nations decide to give him the disputed territory as a reward! And the funny thing is, the same terrorist was pulling the strings both times. Awful suspicious, don't you think?"

Mario leapt into the air, simply jumping over Ezio's slash. A sturdy boot found purchase on Ezio's head, and carried the plumber behind his foe safely.

"Very suspicious," mumbled Mikasa.

"My friend's theory, is that he's got a deal worked out with this Bowser chap. Every time the bank accounts are looking a little thin, the bloke goes and stages a kidnapping. Mario comes to the rescue, saves everyone, and pays a cut of his prize to him. Manipulative bastard."

Ezio spun around to face his opponent, sheathing his sword and extending two small blades from the undersides of his heavy gauntlets. "Do not test me," he warned.

"Do you really believe that?" asked the scout.

"Well, I don't really care. It's what my friend thinks," she replied. "But it goes to show that not everyone is quite what they seem."

"Let's-a go," taunted Mario, who had to immediately duck under one of the Assassin's hidden blades. The plumber threw himself forward, sliding between the taller man's legs before somersaulting to his feet. He clenched a gloved hand, which began to emit flames. Ezio turned again, obviously agitated by Mario's antics, and lunged toward him a second time.

Mikasa looked back at the woman, who was pushing up her glasses by the bridge. "What do you mean by that?"

"I meant exactly what I said, dearie," she smiled, heading towards the door of the bar. "Now, I wonder if he's finished making that lolly…"

She slipped back through the door, and Mikasa returned her attention to the fight. Mario had leapt out of the way again, putting a fair bit of distance between him and his opponent.

"Would you quit running and fight me like a man?!" snarled the Assassin.

"If that's-a what you want," said Mario, opening his clenched fist. A volatile sphere of energy fell from his hand, bouncing across the ground until it reached Ezio, at which point it burst into flame. The Assassin's robes caught alight, and the man flung himself to the ground, rolling and yelping with pain.

"Già abbastanza! I yield!"

Mario snapped his fingers, and the flames subsided instantly. He wandered back into the crowd, and Ezio's team members rushed to his side.

"Are you all right?" asked Leonidas.

"Sí, Sí," gasped Ezio. "My robes are thick enough that the flames did not burn me- but they would have if I had let them go any longer. In that time, my opponent would have defeated me, I am certain."

"It is a shame that we have been eliminated," the Dovahkiin mused. "I would have liked to face your foe. I fight best when on fire."

"I somehow doubt that," said the Spartan.

"Look at that, the little bastard cleaned up." Mikasa found the tall woman at her side once again, this time spinning a green lollypop between her fingers. "Maybe I jinxed things a little, talking about him like that."

Mikasa raised an eyebrow at the sweet. "So, you asked Dante to make… a piece of candy?"

"Dante, is that his name? I don't know if I'd call him a poet, but he certainly is a chef. That strawberry compote- to die for."

The scout was unsure of how to respond, but as luck would have it, she did not have to. The woman poked her in the face lightly, smiled, and was absorbed by a purple disc of occult-looking characters that appeared above her head and traveled down her body, zapping her away.

What the hell was that? Mikasa wondered, scratching her head. Too many confusing things are happening here. I don't think I'm going to run into anyone I know- no sense wasting any more time.

She looked up at the sun to gauge her direction, adjusted her bearing to the north, and immediately ran into a cloaked figure.

"Oof," she grunted, falling backwards. The cloaked figure spun to its feet, extending a hand down to Mikasa's level. The scout took it and was hauled upwards. The face hidden under the wide-brimmed fedora was immediately familiar.

"Honey?" she said aloud. "What are you doing-"

Honey clamped a hand over Mikasa's mouth.

"Ssh! Don't say that out loud!"

She removed her hand, allowing the scout to speak under her condition.

"What are you doing here?" whispered Mikasa again.

"I'm being followed. You know that big dinosaur guy, Megatron? He's got himself a team and they've been hunting me since the start of the round. I've been making a fool of them the whole way."

Mikasa couldn't claim to know Honey all that well, but from the little she could discern of her character, it did not surprise her that she was treating this like a game.

Some people have more courage than sense.

"Well, shouldn't you get going, then?"

"Aw, you don't get it," cackled Honey with a wicked grin. "That's what they'd expect me to do. What they don't expect me to do… is sign up for this tournament."

"Honey, I don't think that's very smart."

"I do," snapped Honey. "Now where do I sign up?"

"The organizer is a tall guy with gray robes and a beard," sighed Mikasa. "He's probably wandering around, so you'll have to-"

Honey shot into the air, tucking her arms in to perform a double-full backflip before landing on top of the bar's roof.

"Gray robes?" she called back down to Mikasa.

"And a beard," moaned the scout.

"Got it," shouted Honey, leaping from the roof back into the crowd.

Mikasa was concerned with Honey's plan of action, but she knew that the girl's appearance might have been a godsend. If she could not locate Team Mockingjay, Honey might be her next best option. Mikasa wasn't exactly sure why she could tolerate the girl- or rather, the machine, as Honey had explained- but she had a feeling it was because her headstrong impulsiveness reminded Mikasa of Eren. Admittedly, a more-capable, wisecracking version of Eren, but the similarities were still there. Her brother had meant a lot to her, but did she really need a surrogate for the time being? No, but a friend was useful. Conflicted as she was, Mikasa decided to stick around and escape with Honey. Surely the android would help her find her team.

Honey shoved her way back through the crowd, emerging a short distance from Mikasa.

"It worked, I'm in as 'Harriet Kidman'. If there's a hundred guys between me and them, I don't think it matters if my disguise is paper-thin."

"So who do they have you lined up against?" asked Mikasa.

Honey smiled. "Somebody I've never heard of. A team called 'Dark Prophecy' or something. Should be fun."

This narrative has been purloined without the author's approval. Report any appearances on Amazon.

Dark Prophecy… have I seen that somewhere before?

Honey headed back toward the crowd, waving Mikasa along. The scout followed her to the second-nearest circle. Honey stepped into the center slowly, her long wrap billowing out into the air. It made her look a lot more intimidating than she did in her sun dress- or perhaps, simply more appropriate to the situation.

"All right, let's get this started," she roared into the crowd. "Who's first?"

Heavy boots stomped into the ring, followed by a click and a wheeze. It was the helmeted man Mikasa had seen before- Dark Prophecy is what he had written when registering his team, she was sure. The black, blank, buglike eyes etched into the faceplate gave a death glare to nearly everyone around the circle at once. A slight breeze picked up his cape, billowing it to a far greater size than Honey's wrap- amplifying his dramatic presence. Even though no one in the crowd seemed familiar with the black-suited man, everyone seemed very, very concerned about his presence.

A sucking sound was followed by another heavy click, and a long wheeze.

"I… am your opponent," echoed the deep, mechanical voice.

Honey, undaunted, laughed into his helmeted face. "Well, duh! You got a name, mister?"

The man extended a gloved hand toward the girl, holding it open in the air. One by one, he began to curl his fingers inward. Honey's expression quickly changed from one of smug confidence, to one of surprise, and then one of pain, as she slowly rose into the air, clawing wildly at her own neck.

The man's words reverberated out, cold and processed, into the charged air of the ring.

"You will address me as Darth Vader. Now, die."

He flung his extended arm downwards, and Honey was slammed into the ground by some unseen force. The man reached to his belt and drew a small, silver cylinder, on which he depressed a button. With a crackle and hiss, a glowing shaft of red energy extended from the device, and Darth Vader brought it to his side like a blade.

Mikasa may not have been facing the mysterious swordsman, but she felt the beginnings of panic set in.

Honey's in trouble- she has to change forms to use her own sword, and if she does that, she'll risk getting spotted.

"Okay," Honey gasped, picking herself up. "You've got some decent tricks. But a big guy like you won't be fast enough to catch me." She sprung forward, telegraphing a right hook as she sprinted toward the man. Just before reaching him, she shot her right foot upward into an axe kick, having feinted the punch- but her clever attack did not find its mark. Vader had simply disappeared.

"Where-"

"Foolish," wheezed Darth Vader from behind her. He extended his arm again, and Honey was jolted into the air as if by some invisible hand. She hovered above the ground, and slowly spun to face him.

"How did you-"

"I find your lack of understanding… unsurprising," echoed the man's modulator. "A droid such as yourself could never sense the Force."

He could tell? Wondered Mikasa. How? Honey is a pretty convincing human.

"The force?" struggled Honey. "What's that?"

"An energy field that binds all life together," explained the man. "Those who sense the Force's flow can learn to manipulate it, as I do."

Honey wriggled in place, to no avail.

"Well, you learn something every day."

"It will be the last thing you process, droid," growled Vader, swinging his energy sword at the girl. Mikasa began to push her way back through the crowd- if Honey was dead, she would have to find some better way back to her team. She stopped when she heard an unfamiliar sound- a crash, followed by an elevated pitch of the energy weapon's hum.

Don't tell me.

She turned back around, and saw that Honey's disguise had dissolved in favor of her sleeveless leotard, her eyes now burning with the same crimson as her suddenly-shorter hair. A thin sword was held to her side, blocking the blade of energy from slicing the android in two.

"Sorry," she grinned. "I should have told you to look away while I was changing."

"An illusion?" asked Vader. "And a lightsaber-resistant sword?"

"It's no illusion," growled Honey, shoving the glowing red blade away and skidding to a safer distance. "It's the real deal. My Kuchu-Genso-Kotei-Sochi Drive allows me to reconfigure air molecules on an atomic level. Wrap your universal life-force around that!"

"So you used that device to create your weapon, with materials that can withstand my saber. But why did you change your outfit?"

Honey shrugged. "Freedom of movement, or something," she suggested, looking down at herself. "Or maybe to let the girls get a little air. When you're a red-hot warrior of love, sometimes you can use such assets to your advantage!"

"Preposterous," roared Vader, dashing forward with inhuman speed. Honey blocked his slash again, twisting her Silver Fleurette to force the masked man to slip forward. She finished her counter with a roundhouse kick into his gut, destroying the complex-looking machine that was strapped to his abdomen.

"GHAKK," he coughed, the click-wheezing suddenly becoming erratic.

"What's up, Darth? Technical difficulties?" Honey sneered as the man collapsed to the ground. "Where's your life-binding energy now?"

"Most… impressive," he strained. "I… could not sense your…. true power. The next…. time we meet, I… shall not hold back."

He coughed again, crawling back out of the ring on his knees. He was helped up by the girl in the blue dress, who wrapped an arm underneath his and hefted him to his feet. With her free hand, she drew her book, the pages turning on their own accord until she seemed to find what she was looking for. A card floated up out of the tome and into the center of the ring, hovering at Honey's eye level.

"Chariot," said the girl. "Number seven. You burn like a flame, but is it truly for others, or to create an illusion for yourself?"

The card then floated back to the book, which the girl closed before hauling Vader away.

Honey gave the departing girl a skeptical look. "All-righty then... who's next?"

Mikasa rushed into the center of the ring. Honey grabbed her by the shoulders, frowning.

"Whoa, hold on a minute. I'm not fighting you next."

"No, listen," shouted Mikasa, shaking her head. "You changed- if those people are really that close behind you, they probably saw you. They know you're here."

"Yeah, but how likely is it that they can get through all of the fighters here? There's no way they can just barge in and interrupt everything."

A bit of dirt next to Honey's foot exploded up with a crack to announce that it had been hit by a bullet. Standing above the crowd was a purple Tyrannosaurus Rex, and perched on its head was a woman clad in heavy tactical armor.

"This tournament is over, yesss," cooed Megatron. "Anyone who wants to get shot can stick around."

"Not again," wailed Gandalf, hastily retreating. His own team followed his lead, and were soon joined by nearly everyone there. Warriors scattered in every direction, soon leaving the town nearly vacant.

"Hey, Mikasa," whispered Honey. "You know that motorcycle sitting behind the building?"

"How do you know about that?"

"Doesn't matter, just go get it."

"Fine," sighed the scout, not too disappointed to be out of the line of fire. She was genuinely surprised to see Megatron again, she thought for sure that he had found better things to do since Dio had shown up.

Though for him, perhaps chasing Honey counts as "better things".

"Was that Mikasa Ackerman there?" the Predacon mused, his words looking unnatural as they were spoken by a gigantic, fanged mouth. "It has been a while since I saw her… since she sliced my head off."

"Forget about her," shouted Honey. "You're here for me."

"That I am. You've proven to be quite the thorn in my side. But I'm here to send a message, and the message is that if you do not stand with us… your life will become a living hell."

Major Kusanagi leapt off of Megatron's head, landing fist-first with a heavier-than-usual thud. She raised her bullpup assault rifle, locking Honey into her sights.

"You've got a lot of nerve, Kisaragi," grunted the police officer. "How can you call yourself a hero, turning that club into a deathtrap?"

"I'm pretty certain I made sure that everyone left," retorted Honey. "And how do you call yourselves heroes, chasing me around on some madman's orders?"

"You have to be pretty sadistic to come up with a scheme like you did," hissed the Major, changing the subject.

"I said I was a warrior of love," smirked Honey. "I never said I was nice."

"Oh, that's fine," snapped Rex, emerging from behind the dinosaur, one of his arms converted into a gigantic sword and rested over his shoulder, his clothes in varying states of disrepair. "It's just making me have a hard time believing that you're supposed to be the good guy in all of this."

Honey's eyes widened. "You're still alive?"

"Nanomachines, chica!"

"Well, that figures. How about your best buddy?"

The huge man moved out from his cover behind Megatron next, his clothing in similar distress. Unlike Rex, he did seem to have been damaged by the explosion, as large chunks of his flesh had disappeared to reveal the metallic, skeletal workings underneath.

"Looking as charming as ever, I see," she jabbed.

"All right, I've got a few strawberry sundaes left," announced Dante, carrying a few dishes outside. "So who wants so-"

He noticed that the tournament had seemed to have disappeared, and that there was something of a confrontation occurring.

"Let me go back inside and get my sword," he said.

"Actually, I'll take one of those," said Rex, waving Dante over. The bartender reluctantly came, and handed over the dessert. Rex, who had one free hand- since his other, which was currently a sword, was not an ideal utensil- simply chomped down on the ice cream without a spoon.

"Ay, la salsa de fresas… İque rico!"

"I'm… glad you like it?" said Dante, backing towards his establishment.

Tobio sprinted up next, sliding to a halt next to Rex and sampling a bit of the sundae before addressing Honey.

"Listen, this doesn't have to be so bad," he pleaded, wiping strawberry compote off of his face. "If you just work for Joe, we can be friends and everything!"

"Thanks, but no thanks, kid. I don't want to work for your crummy boss."

"Then you will be terminated," droned the large, half-burned man, drawing his scoped pistol.

"It ends here, Kisaragi," growled Megatron, converting into his robot mode and aiming his dinosaur-head-beam-cannon arm towards her. Honey gritted her teeth. Mikasa wasn't back with the motorcycle yet, which meant that she didn't have any options left. She had lost this time, and she was doubtful she really could have taken them all on anyway. She'd have another shot next round, no doubt, and she would again stand by her beliefs, regardless of the cost.

Oh well. It's been fun. Or rather, an annoying sort of diversion. Like trigonometry, or eggs Benedict, or a Hail Mary. So really not fun at all.

The guns fired first, followed by the bellow of the beam cannon's charged particles, but Honey was surprised that she hardly felt them ravage her body. Actually, she really felt no different at all. She blinked her eyes and looked directly into the bright purple in front of her- yes, in front of her. The beam, and evidently the bullets, was being stopped. The light faded, and the gunfire halted, and Honey was astounded by what she saw. In front of her stood a man, clad in orange martial arts garb, with the most ridiculous head of hair she had ever seen.

"Excuse me," he said. "Have any of you seen a girl carrying half of a red pair of scissors? I've been looking everywhere and I just can't seem to find her."

"Holy Mary, full of grace," stammered Honey.

"Insolent organic garbage!" roared Megatron. "How dare you interrupt our battle?"

"I just wanted to check with you guys, that's all."

"We have not seen her! Now, you will pay for obstructing our business!" screamed the Predacon, charging another blast of his cannon. He fired, and this time, the man simply deflected the blast away with the back of his hand, as if swatting a fly. The errant beam of energy fizzled away as it careened off into the sky. The man did not seem very impressed.

"You know, you could learn to be more polite."

"I take orders from no one," snarled Megatron.

"Really, I wouldn't want to have to hurt you guys."

"Like you, a mere organic, could possibly harm us?"

"Um, Mister Joe? He did just totally shrug off that beam," warned Tobio.

"That means nothing. He may have mastered the art of defense, but he must be so specialized that he could not hurt a cyberfly."

"Well, if you want a demonstration otherwise," laughed the man, bringing his open palms together in front of his stomach. "Kaa…." He began to chant.

"Joe, I'm not sure about this," gulped Motoko.

"Yeah, this hombre really seems like he means business," agreed Rex.

"Me…..haa…." A blue sphere of energy began to gather between the man's hands as he brought them to his side, circling them around one another to cradle the ghostly-looking ball.

"Blessed are you among women and blessed is the fruit of your womb Jesus," continued Honey.

"I'm not concerned by your little light show, organic," Megatron spat. "Come on, let's see the best you can do, yesss."

"Me…"

Dante rushed outside, his sword in hand. Upon seeing how the situation had declined further, and upon noticing the man charging a ball of energy in his hands, he quickly returned to the building.

"Pray for us sinners now and the hour of our death, Amen," finished Honey.

"HA!" screamed the man, thrusting his hands into the sky. The ball exploded into a gigantic pillar of blue-white light, tearing apart the clouds and boiling the air as it ripped into the atmosphere. The beam screamed with a rushing, undulating pulse, a sound not unlike the secret child of a hurricane and a volcano. It shattered the windows of every building in the town, and ripped the wooden planks from the walls. It shook the earth and splintered the very surface of the desert with even more cracks and crannies, the arena itself terrified of the attack's power. For nearly five seconds, the white-hot scar ebbed into the sky, informing the Transcendent Technomorphs that perhaps they should not trifle with this man. Then, the beam dissolved away, leaving a glowing speck high above them that Honey suspected was burnt ozone.

"What was that?!" screamed Mikasa, towing the motorcycle alongside her.

"Oh, hi, Mikasa, thanks for the bike," gasped Honey, rapidly exchanging her leotard for a white racing suit and matching helmet in a burst of flame and nudity. She flung herself over the machine, which roared to life underneath her. "Sorry, gotta run, bye!"

She revved the motorcycle up and sped away, disappearing behind a trail of dust.

"Hey, but- wait!" cried Mikasa, stuck once again.

"I'll see you guys around," said the man in the orange gi, waving goodbye to the Transcendent Technomorphs and vanishing with his fingers to his forehead.

"Madre de Dios," whispered Rex, in awe.

"Will you buffoons stop standing around slack-jawed, and start after the girl?!" roared Megatron, attempting to return some sense to his troops. The team shook themselves out of their shock and sprinted away after Honey, leaving Mikasa alone once again. The disgruntled scout fell back onto her hindquarters and wrapped her arms over her head in despair.

Yeah, I had better crawl back into the bar and give up. I'm never going to get out of here.

A house across the street suddenly imploded, as if something had crashed down through it from above.

"I'm okay!" insisted a voice from inside the house. "Adam broke my fall!"

"Ruby?" Mikasa gasped. "Adam?!"

The artificial man pulled himself out of what was left of the building's front door, with the Huntress in tow.

"Mikasa, what a pleasant surprise! We came when we saw the light from Easton. Is there anyone else here?"

"Not from our team. There's the guy running the bar back there, but he's friendly."

"Great," shouted Ryuko, touching down in a typically rough manner in the center of the road. "I wanna get myself a whiskey sour before we head north."

Mikasa frowned. "North?"

"Yeah, north," replied Ryuko. "Where those jerks that teleported us are. We'll go and clobber 'em."

"Do you really think we can just go back and try again, when we don't even have everybody with us?"

Ryuko, I believe she has a point.

Yeah, you're right, Senketsu. It wouldn't do us any good to rush in and get scattered again.

"So what do you have in mind, instead?"

Mikasa almost smiled. Finally, she had found her team- or rather, they had found her. While she often wanted to avoid them outside of the rounds, she realized that she really did appreciate them, regardless of their quirks. Of course, being around to save your life helped, too.

"A friend of mine is being hunted by Megatron, and a new team he's formed," explained the scout. "If we can catch up with them, and knock them out, she'll be willing to help us, I'm sure."

"Oh, it's not that Honey chick, is it?" Ryuko groaned. "I don't know what it is but there's something about her I can't stand."

"It is that Honey chick and she'd be perfect for sneaking into the Night Terrors' base."

"Fine, we'll chase her down," Ryuko relented. "But first, my drink." The four walked back into the bar, where Dante had begun to clean out a few cups.

"So these are your friends?" he asked Mikasa.

"Yeah. I'll be hitting the road."

"Is there anything I can do for you, before you go?"

Ryuko threw herself onto a stool, scowling. "I'm gonna need a whiskey sour, hold the whiskey."

"That's just… lemon juice," said Dante.

"Exactly. Now get to it."

Dante shrugged and began to prepare Ryuko's drink. Mikasa turned to her friend, sighing.

"These last couple of days have been pretty rough. I sat here eating 'pizza' for every meal, and then got to watch a fighting tournament fail spectacularly. What did you do?"

"I got arrested, grabbed a coin, beat up a rage beast."

"Technically, Ruby and I defeated the rage beast," noted Adam, putting a hand out to halt Ruby's spinning on the bar stool.

"So, you know, the usual," sighed the girl, receiving her drink from the bartender and downing it in two hearty gulps.

Mikasa walked to the door, swinging it open and standing aside to let her allies through. "We should get going. She'll be moving pretty quickly."

"Wait," groaned Dante. "Did she take my bike?"

"Yes."

Ryuko leaned a little further over the bar, almost uncomfortably close to Dante.

"What kind of bike are we talking about here?"

"It's a custom, two-liter hyper-sport cruiser with a candy-red metallic flake under a burnt orange lacquer, modified fenders and tank, and double storage bins," he wept.

Suddenly, Ryuko stood next to Mikasa at the door. "Well, come on! What are we waiting for? Let's go save Honey!"