The palace guards were shouting orders and information back and forth, trying to figure out a way to free the trapped one and continue their mission. The shrieking groan of a decaying security door being torn apart silenced them, as they redoubled their efforts. They had him free, but the acid and heat had damaged everything over time.

They heard many sounds that hadn't been heard before, but the slow and even hone of blade on stone was not something they expected. It chilled them to the bone, and they requadtrupled exfiltration efforts as the sound grew closer. Louder and louder, closer and closer; every second it drew nearer, the suits grew weaker, coms got spottier. Second by second, the memorized chronology that every palace guard had drilled into them was counting down to their doom. Tick, tick, tick.

The acid, methane, sulfur, everything wanted them to die. They went into the dungeon to find a corpse but found a murderous labyrinth full of traps set by themselves. If not bad enough to be stuck in the dark, far underground, with lethal atmosphere, traps, and failing equipment; they were being approached by something. A something that can tear through an iron door like paper.

All but two of the guards had scaled the hole that was once a stairwell with the help of cables from their compatriots, the sounds stopped. One guard managed to get his rifle's lamp to flicker to life. He found himself staring at a huge, black figure that soaked up the light, with a massive sword in it's hands.

"HOSTILES"

The call rang out with the sound of plasma rifle fire following immediately after. They had one left to retrieve, he was hooked up before hand, but they were having to drag him up. They were offering covering fire as he kept firing down the stairwell. They maintained covering fire despite weapons malfunctions from the acid and heat.

They realized that the half corpse still had the trigger depressed after they hauled him up. They fought a covered retreat against the unseen enemy. They only got so far before the acid started eating them alive in their decaying metal coffins.

The commander breathed his last laboured breath monitoring an improvised barricaded in armor that had been melted through with the vague shape of a plasma rifle in his hands. It was level six. The power didn't work there, either. The acid was far more tame, but more than enough to kill.

The Hazardous Conditions Armed Power Rescue team didn't waste time. Their mission was to find the guards and pull them out, period, end of discussion. They had been ordered to do so, nothing more, and nothing less. They were really unsettled when they found most of the remains of the guards.

The ramshackle defensive barricade was rusted in place with an odd color, courtesy of the mixture of acids and poisons. The guards were accounted for, dead, and half of one completely missing, but the HCPJS had recovered them. Their job was done, it would be up to investigations to figure out the rest.

Investigations took two weeks to salvage the death boxes of the suits, one having to be opened up to retrieve Intel. The box had suffered severe corrosion, beyond that of the others due to the suit being heavily breached, but it held a clue. The Investigations Department concluded multiple points of interest and caution. The first point being that either the palace needed to be relocated or large quantities of neutralization agents would have to be poured down the dungeon.

The second point was that something cut the guard in half at the waste, but only after he opened fire. The camera footage was not useful due to faceplate clouding from acid exposure. The third point was that the acid at the penultimate level of the dungeon was able to dissolve the circuits of the acidic atmosphere detection circuit, exceeding the voracity of most molten salt acids.

The fourth point was that the heat was lethal within a minute. The fifth point was the radiation being far beyond expectations. They were of the opinion that nothing could survive down there, but had no plausible explanations for how those conditions came about outside of someone creating them. The discussion was up for debate, and there were squadrons of soldiers on rotation to guard the dungeon entrance.

Costan had defended himself from the trigger happy moron and quietly watched from the shadows, tailing the guards in their overzealous retreat. The intermittent plasma fire was interesting but unpleasant. They managed the occasional hit on him, but the weapons had lost most of their punch because of the acid damage. They set up a barricade and stayed there, maybe sleeping like the lazy bastards they secretly were.

Costan watched and waited for hours, but they were completely still. Their armors no longer made the quiet hissing and clicking sounds associated with power armor life support. "Did they die on me?" He was about to go and check when he heard the pounding of power armor boots on the stone floor. Then came the bright flood lamps of the approaching soldiers. He caught a glimpse of the regalia, HCPJS.

"Found em."

"How many?"

"Six and a half."

"The fuck, half?"

"Yes, the upper half."

The others were quick to close in, looking at the barricaded corridor. Costan tried for another look around the corner.

"Movement." The soldier had his weapon up and trained on where Costan's head had been. The others responded, but their leader calmed them down. "We are only here for these seven, no need to start a fight with whatever the fuck tore him in half. Just keep us covered while we extract them."

Two of the twelve replied with a firm "Yes Captain."

Costan kept his distance, but tailed them to the exit. The past years in prison had given him a lot of time to think, too much time, in fact. He had long analyzed what he could do to get things rectified, and the answer was nothing. There was nothing that he could do to get his life back under his own control, aside from becoming the villain. He followed them to the exit and came up with a strategy, a very hideous, heinous, insidious plan. That one opening fire on him was the last straw, and now he would be their enemy.

Costan waited and listened to the chatter of the soldiers and guards from the other side of the door. The thirtieth birthday ball for the triplets was coming up in a few months, and the chemicals would soon be dumped into the dungeon to neutralize the acids. Then he remembered the teleportation spell that never went off.

Costan reconstructed the magical spell chain. The trigger spell had fell apart during the friendly fire incident, so he fixed it all. This time random stuff wouldn't drop, live mines and nastier things would. He waited until the week before the party. The trigger words were happy birthday. Costan also left many horrible traps throughout the dungeon.

The day before the party, Emperor Karcos remembered that Costan was one of the triplets, and demanded that someone at least get in touch with him. It was too late to bother, for Costan had left the dungeon. Costan had left a week ago, and was becoming a problem for the Empire. They had completely reinvented the power armor just to survive in the dungeon, but discovered many traps beyond the "HAPPY BIRTHDAY, LIFE IS A JOKE AND DEATHS THE PUNCH LINE HA HA HA" inscription that was carved into the stone.

Costan had beaten a person as gently as possible when he reappeared in his house. They kept claiming it was their house and something about a lease, blah blah blah. Costan didn't care, for nobody cared about what tragedies happened to him.

"You have two minutes to drag yourself off of my property before I kill you. I don't care about your lease, it was never anyone else's right to lease, sell, or do anything with any of my properties or belongings. You better get to crawling."

Costan wasted no more time on people, because nobody ever listened to him anyways. He would be using an older and more reliable method of communication from then on. Violence is always an option, it's often also a question and an answer. Costan took liberties with that one's data pad and entertainment devices, sending out two orders and an ultimatum, before dumping their belongings out on the road near his house.

It was a long road, but he had done it. Costan was about to invade Snok and reclaim himself. It was only a matter of time until he was whole again. Then he was falling and hit the floor. Waking up, he was angry and the reality sunk in. He was still in the dungeon, but at the bottom of a stairwell with a HCPJS guy saying "shit, I dropped it".

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It was all a dream and maybe also a hallucination. Costan was really sad, the gods had gone back and sealed everything when he had temporarily died from the brain hemorrhage when he was ordered to placate the goddess. He was an emaciated eunuch at the bottom of the dungeon. He closed his eyes again, silently praying for the sweet release of death.

Death was not forthcoming, however, he was forced to live from intravenous injections and a feeding tube. The reason for the HCPJS was because of the low oxygen levels at the bottom of the dungeon. Some of the guards sent to retrieve him almost died from oxygen deprivation. He laid there and dreaded his own existence for a month before they forced him to get up by talking on and on about his siblings and parents. It made him sick listening to it.

He had been unloved by any of them. He never had a birthday celebration, only was he forced to celebrate those of others. They took everything from him and these bastards dared to force him to live and listen to them fanboy about those cretins. Costan was seething with rage as he took the proffered walker and beat the one what never shut up with it.

Captain Giagan was not surprised at the fact that the loud mouth was being beaten with a walking aid. He knew Costan had developed a deeply seeded hatred for his family and the entire palace. There was no mystery as to why someone who unceasingly praised the Royal Family in Costan's ear was on the receiving end of his wrath. He didn't expect how weak Costan had become, however, the one being beaten was being overly dramatic. The blows from the light weight walker had no actual force behind them, Captain Giagan took all of the fury until Costan got tired and went back to bed.

Captain Giagan was not expecting to have to spell it out for the dietitian, but it had to be done for everyone's well being. How does someone so dim end up working in the palace? "You don't proselytize the people who ruined someone's life to the person who's life they ruined. You moron."

The next day was a new adventure, with Costan making his shambling path all the way to the kitchens. The medical staff didn't notice him leaving or being missing until Captain Giagan called them to take Costan back to the medical wing. The scene was something more alike that of a soap opera than reality.

"You're damned right I stole the Emperors pangolo steak, and until he gives back everything he took from me you can look forward to him never getting his meals on time. Bastards left me to starve in the damned dungeon for years and think you have the right to say a gods damned thing about it? Huh, shut up. It's my steak now, bring me some beer you little shit."

Every day, four times a day, for months this happened. Every time it was a fresh and new rant, dressing down, or string of insults. It was always focused on the head chef and Emperor, so everyone else just rushed out another dish for the Emperor while Costan was distracted yelling at the head chef and any guards who were unfortunate enough to come and investigate the disturbance. It usually resulted in a two to five minute delay between when the Emperor got his food versus anyone dining with him.

With the blatant reporting on the status of the Royal Family, the absolute drama of Costan's petty revenge became a well appreciated read for almost ninety percent of the population. Even Emperor Karcos could be found laughing at why his own meals were delayed. Costan, the black cat of the Royal Family, the subjugator of worlds, genius inventor, and combat badass was being a complete nuisance on the kitchen staff. They refused to let Costan leave the palace despite him being thirty, officially an adult.

When he learned that everyone just found it to be amusing, Costan decided to step it up a notch. Not only did he swipe the Emperors first meal, he took the second and third they had prepped in reserve. He then proceeded to steal the electrical breakers for the kitchens and use them to clog certain toilets throughout the palace, a true catastrophe for those uppity shits.

They replaced the breakers and toilets, but offered no further reactions. That pissed Costan off more, so he swiped some cleaning supplies and distilled part of his own piss to make small bombs, one for every toilet. They had to relocate everyone for the three months it took to replace all of the plumbing. Costan managed to slip out of their guard during the move.

Costan had remembered the address of Karkar's father, Captain Cankar. He snuck his way there, expertly avoiding all of the street cameras, patrols, and pedestrians. He was being extremely sneaky, right up until Cankar's back porch lights came on automatically.

Captain Cankar had been sitting at his kitchen table, having dinner with his wife and a couple friends. They had just passed out the cold beer when the yard lights came on. They all noticed the large individual in the middle of the yard. One started a live stream while Cankar discretely grabbed a pistol and opened the screen door to confront the trespasser. The voice they heard sounded like a teen got caught sneaking out.

"Hi Mister Cankar."

Cankar was not having the innocent act and pointed the weapon right at the trespasser's face. The hood came down to reveal Costan's face, but Cankar didn't relax. Of the many reasons why Costan would be there, only Costan would know.

"What are you doing here Costan?"

"Was hoping to catch up with Karkar and have a couple beers, but I guess that won't happen."

"If so, then why come like this?"

"The palace guards didn't exactly let me leave, so I gotta be sneaky... And he's live streaming, isn't he?"

"That doesn't matter, you're going to stay right there until law enforcement arrives."

"You're a grouchy fucker, you know."

"And you're supposed to still be in the dungeon."

"They let me out on medical, almost starved me to death. Like four years with no food will do that." Costan immediately bolted away, but Cankar got one shot on him before he cleared the neighbors fence.

The live stream was viral from the words Cankar and Costan. The Emperor was speechless from it. He never said that Costan was innocent, and now people are shooting him. He quickly had an aid put out a public service announcement about how Costan was not the murderer, but accidentally imprisoned due to suspicion. It didn't reach far enough fast enough.

The next thing he saw was footage from a news shuttle about how Costan the murderer was surrounded and trapped within a warehouse. This didn't end well. As soon as they touched the door, a charge went off, but didn't cause nearly as much damage as it should have. Murphy was watching with popcorn. The improvised anti breaching charge should have killed everyone in the front of the building, but he made it act like a big flash bang.

Murphy liked Costan, but knew that he had to get caught or he would end up being "the bad guy", none of the gods wanted Costan to be the villain because he could be a world ender. They didn't want him to this or that, but they didn't want him dead either. It was like they wanted him to just lay in a jail somewhere and exist in obscurity. Murphy thought that was hella depressing, but no matter what, Costan had to get caught even though he hadn't done much of anything.

Murphy forced the other gods to watch, because it was what they asked for. They watched as Costan was shot full of holes even as he surrendered. They assumed the surrender to be a ploy and shot until their weapons were dry. They reloaded, then sent a bomb unit to check him as he bleed all over the floor. With the clear, they cuffed his hands and feet before checking for vitals.

They confirmed that he was alive and threw him into an old ground car, slamming the door shut on his tail. The car was turned away from the jail due to the blood leaking out of it and sent to the hospital instead. The gods were silently cursing the "most likely" plan, because the now tailless Costan would definitely not be willing to help them with anything. The doctors set the broken bones and sewed the holes shut, then left him restrained to a bed under police guard.

It wasn't until the investigations unit showed up, after some representatives of Venom Company, that the pucker factor of what the law enforcement had done kicked in. That was one of the Venom Company munitions stores, specifically the one for explosive munitions and destructive devices. The flash and bang was a malfunction in an anti breaching charge that should have reduced those officers to a chunky salsa and it was a miracle they hadn't destroyed a few city blocks by pursuing the owner of Venom Company into that warehouse.

Costan was soon moved to the medical wing of a maximum security prison while the prosecutor tried to wrangle with what charges to actually go with. Captain Cankar dropped the trespassing charge after the PSA. The prosecution was left with use of a destructive devices, evasion, and malicious mischief. Most of the judges didn't want to press anything more than malicious mischief, due to the fact that everyone was very trigger happy due to large scale miscommunication.

"The defendant was in his own warehouse of explosives and they chased him there with weapons drawn, often shooting at him as he ran from a credible threat to his life." The public defender paused to point at the map with photos strewn about it.

"The law enforcement officers landed shots on him here, here, and again at this intersection before he entered his companies warehouse using his security code." He took a breath and picked up again. "He, likely, deployed the anti breaching charge as a means of defending himself. While the usage of traps is illegal in unoccupied structures outside of warfare, he was occupying his own warehouse and thus falls under the coverage of a private security operation."

"While the charge of evasion is technically valid, it is not in the spirit of the law, and not is it in the letter of the law to fire on site of a fleeing criminal, unless the circumstances that they are posing a direct and immanent threat to officers or civilians. The charges of creating, possessing, and using unregistered destructive devices unlawfully are not applicable due to them being registered, manufactured, stored, and used by Venom Company and its lawful owner. Most of these charges are inapplicable to the defendant in this case."

"Malicious mischief also is not a suitable charge for my defendant. The only suitable charge is the deployment of a lethal device against law enforcement, but even that was a last resort. They were not cleared to enter that warehouse and disregarded the locked door and posted warnings."

The trial took a month, and Costan got ten years for deployment of a destructive device against law enforcement. It would have been fifty years, but it was in self defense. The officers didn't get off without charges of excessive force and negligent discharge of weapons. Each shot from the miriad of weapons were mere millimeters from setting off something.