The subterranean chamber hummed with a frequency that made teeth ache and bones vibrate. Copper-toned metal, heavily riveted and rusted with age, rose in tiers around them like the ribs of a dead beast. The Celestial Transmutation Engine dominated the cavernous space, its massive gears interlocking and turning with a slow, grinding rhythm that pulsed in time with some ancient heartbeat. Turquoise static electricity crackled along its surface, casting shifting shadows across the cluttered workbenches and mountains of scattered blueprints that covered every available surface.
The air smelled of hot metal, old dust, and the faint, sharp tang of chemicals bubbling in glass vials that lined the heavy wooden workbenches. Somewhere in the shadows, a leaky pipe dripped with a rhythmic plink-plink-plink that mocked the frantic energy of the room's occupants.
Bianca Yvonne Clark stood at the heart of the chaos, her waist-length black hair escaping from a messy bun in wild tendrils that stuck to her grease-streaked cheeks. A pencil jutted from the tangled mass at a precarious angle, and her large magnifying goggles were pushed up on her forehead, catching the turquoise glow of the Engine. Her grease-stained overalls were worn open over a floral blouse that had seen better days, and her calloused hands—nails painted a chipped, cheerful pink—moved with practiced confidence across the Engine's control panel.
"Like, okay, so if I just, like, adjust this dial here—" Bianca twisted a heavy brass knob, and the Engine's hum shifted pitch, "—and like, reroute the energy conduits through the, like, secondary harmonic array—" she pulled a lever, and the turquoise static flared brighter, "—then I should be able to like, target the coordinates more, like, specifically."
Professor Manabu Kinsho followed in her wake like a frantic mother hen, his wild mane of silver-streaked chestnut hair standing on end, his dark brown eyes wide with horror. His rumpled sand-colored shirt was untucked, and his heavy, patch-covered utility apron—stuffed with lockpicks, calipers, and tuning forks—flapped with each agitated step. He waved his arms, his expressive eyebrows bouncing with barely contained panic.
"No, no, no! You can't just—you're going to—the energy conduits aren't designed for that kind of—" He reached for a lever, thought better of it, and instead grabbed at his own hair. "Do you have any idea what you're doing? That's not a targeting array! That's the primary energy synchronization matrix! If you overload the—"
Bianca didn't look up from her work. "Like, I know what I'm doing, Professor. I've, like, reverse-engineered Void Century tech before. This is, like, totally straightforward. I just need to, like, input a few more parameters, and we should be, like, good to go." She twisted another dial, and the Engine let out a low, groaning sound that made the stone walls tremble.
Professor Kinsho's face flushed a deep, alarming red. His voice rose to a screech that echoed off the cavern walls. "STRAIGHTFORWARD? STRAIGHTFORWARD? You're adjusting the primary energy synchronization matrix to target a specific location in—in—what are you even trying to do?"
"Like, to bring my friend back," Bianca said, with desperate conviction that cut through her usual verbal tics. "She's, like, out there, somewhere or whatever. And I'm going to, like, bring her home."
Charlie Leonard Wooley stood at the edge of the chaos, his vintage pith helmet—NEVER removed, even indoors—perched perfectly on his head, his round wire-framed glasses reflecting the turquoise glow of the Engine. His crisp khaki shirt and shorts were immaculate despite the dusty environment, and his overloaded cargo vest bulged with scrolls, ink bottles, and crumbling notebooks. His leather satchel was clutched to his chest, and he watched the scene unfold with the expression of a man who had long ago learned that attempting to intervene in technical disputes was a fool's errand.
He cleared his throat with a sharp, pointed sound. "Ahem!"
No one noticed.
Bianca continued to turn dials, her movements growing more frantic. Professor Kinsho continued to sputter, his face now approaching the color of a ripe tomato.
Charlie cleared his throat again, louder this time. "AHEM!"
Still nothing.
He adjusted his glasses, his polished but scuffed explorer boots shifting on the dusty stone floor. "I do believe," he began, in that precise, scholarly tone that had made him the terror of academic conferences across, "that the Professor raises a valid concern regarding the potential for—"
"GET YOUR HANDS OFF HER!"
The shout came from Jannali Bandler, who had been watching the exchange with growing impatience. Her full afro was covered by a stylish headscarf that artfully concealed her forehead—non-negotiable attire, always—and her large, expressive brown eyes were fixed on the scene with the intensity of a woman who had seen too much chaos to tolerate more. Her athletic, toned frame moved in a blur, and before Professor Kinsho could react, the edge of her retractable spear was pressed against his throat.
Gosan, her spear, hummed with the faint, predatory awareness of the Hatzegopteryx that lived within its metal. The weapon had eaten the Ryu Ryu no Mi, Model: Hatzegopteryx, and it was always hungry for action, always watching, always waiting.
"Yeah, nah, mate," Jannali said, her voice carrying that warm, melodic accent that could shift from friendly to deadly in a heartbeat. "Pull your head in. Let her work."
Professor Kinsho's eyes bulged. He froze, his hands raised in surrender, his face still flushed but now drained of color. "I—you—this is my laboratory! I have a right to—"
"Mate, I don't give a toss about your rights right now." Jannali's voice was flat, uncompromising. "My friend is trying to save her mate. You're gonna sit down, shut up, and let her work. Got it?"
Professor Kinsho swallowed hard, his Adam's apple bobbing against the edge of Gosan's blade. "Got it."
Jannali held his gaze for a long moment, then lowered her spear. She didn't step back. Her eyes swept the room, cataloging every exit, every potential threat.
"Good choice," she said.
Across the laboratory, Ember giggled.
The sound was high-pitched, almost childlike, and it echoed off the stone walls in a way that made the hair on the back of Charlie's neck stand up. The petite woman with the neon-pink space buns and mismatched eyes—one icy blue, one gold—darted between workbenches, her tattered black-and-crimson Lolita dress billowing behind her. Fishnet stockings ripped at the knees, boots with hidden blade compartments thudded against the stone floor, and the charred plush rabbit tied to her waist bounced with each frantic step.
Asper Pale was right behind her, his lanky frame hunched, his long, slender fingers reaching desperately for the tools Ember had snatched from his workbench. His slate-gray hair fell into his large, unblinking dark gray eyes, and his pale face was flushed with the exertion of the chase. A permanent callus on his middle finger was visible as he gestured frantically.
"Those are calibrated to specific mathematical tolerances!" Asper called out, in rapid-fire, breathless quality that emerged when he was stressed. "The torsion ratios are—you're going to disrupt the alignment of the—please—you don't understand the structural integrity requirements—"
Ember giggled again, spinning on her heel to face him. "Catch me if you can, Mr. Logic!" she sang, with the manic quality that made her so unpredictable. She held up the tools, her icy blue eye and gold prosthetic eye gleaming in the turquoise light. "I just want to see how they work! Is that so wrong? Is it? IS IT?"
Asper's fingers twitched in that familiar pattern—tapping out a simulated code against his leg, the mechanical click of his calculation wheel harness filling the space between his words. "The tools are not toys. They are precision instruments designed for—"
Ember threw a small wrench at him. It bounced off his shoulder.
"Oops!" she said, her voice dripping with false innocence. "My bad!"
Asper stumbled, catching himself on a workbench. His long, slender fingers gripped the edge, and his wide, unblinking eyes fixed on Ember with a mixture of frustration and something that might have been genuine confusion. "That was—that was unnecessary. The structural integrity of—"
"The structural integrity of what?" Ember sang, darting behind a pillar of copper piping. "Your feelings? Your dignity? Your—"
"I don't have those," Asper interrupted, his voice flat. "Feelings are illogical. Dignity is a social construct. The structural integrity of the torsion mechanism is what I'm concerned about."
Professor Kinsho, still recovering from his near-death experience, watched the chaos unfold with growing horror. "What—who are you people? How did you—this is my laboratory! My research! My—"
"Relax, mate," Jannali said, with a soothing quality that belied the edge of her spear. "We're not here to nick your work. We're just here to retrieve our mate and bugger off."
Ember squealed as Asper finally cornered her behind a massive gear assembly. She darted to the left, then the right, her movements unpredictable, chaotic. Asper lunged, his long fingers closing on her wrist—
And Ember buckled over, gasping for breath.
Her mismatched eyes went wide, and the manic energy that had animated her moments before drained away like water through a sieve. She clutched her chest, her breath coming in ragged gasps, and for a moment, the laboratory fell silent.
Asper froze, his hand still on her wrist, his wide eyes blinking in confusion. "Did I—I didn't—I don't think I injured you. The force of my grip was within acceptable parameters. I calibrated—"
"Don't touch me!" Ember's voice was different now—higher, more desperate, carrying a note of genuine fear. "Don't—don't—I can't—"
She scrabbled backward, her boots scraping against the stone floor, her neon-pink space buns askew. The charred plush rabbit dragged behind her, and her mismatched eyes darted around the room as if searching for an escape that didn't exist.
Asper released her wrist immediately, stepping back with his hands raised in a gesture of surrender. "I apologize. I didn't intend to—the physical contact was not—I should have—"
Ember's gaze snapped to him, and for a moment, her eyes were clear—focused, lucid, haunted by something ancient and terrible. She opened her mouth as if to speak—
And then the manic energy returned.
"Just kidding!" she shrieked, bouncing to her feet with a laugh that bordered on hysterical. "You should have seen your face! Oh, the face! The LOGIC FACE!"
She darted away again, disappearing behind a stack of blueprints.
Asper's shoulders slumped. He pressed his fingers to his temples, muttering something about "unquantifiable variables" and "unpredictable biological anomalies." His calculation wheel clicked in a rapid, staccato rhythm.
Professor Kinsho turned to Charlie, his eyes wild, his silver-streaked hair standing on end. "This is—this is—I don't—who ARE you people?"
Charlie cleared his throat. "Ahem!" He adjusted his glasses, his scholarly demeanor returning like a familiar coat. "Who we are is of little consequence, I assure you. We are merely here to retrieve our companion and be on our way."
Jannali smirked, her spear still held loosely at her side. "Yeah, what he said. So why don't you take a seat and wait quietly? We'll be out of your hair soon enough."
Professor Kinsho narrowed his eyes. "You're—you're pirates, aren't you? Or—or? You're not—"
"We're not here to hurt you, Professor," Jannali said, with a note of genuine reassurance. "We're just trying to save someone. Someone important."
Charlie cleared his throat again. "I do, however, have some questions about your work. The system you've been using. I've been studying for years, and I couldn't help but notice the way you've integrated the principles into the Engine's—"
"Not now, Charlie," Jannali said.
The transponder snail in Jannali's pocket began to ring.
The sound cut through the chaos like a blade. Ember's giggles faltered. Asper's muttering stopped. Bianca paused, her hand hovering over a dial. Professor Kinsho's eyes went wide with suspicion.
Jannali answered it, keeping her eye on the Professor. "This is Jannali."
The snail's mouth opened, and Galit Varuna's voice emerged—sharp, intelligent, restless with energy.
"This is Galit. Do you have an update?"
Jannali glanced at Bianca, who stepped away from the Engine and took the snail. She moved back toward the control panel, her grease-stained fingers wrapping around the shell.
"Like, yeah," Bianca said, with familiar cadence. "Like, I think I've, like, figured out how, like, this thing works. I just, like, need to input a few more, like, parameters or whatever, and we should be, like, good to go."
Galit's voice was relieved. "Good. We have a development."
Bianca paused, her fingers hovering over a dial. "Like, what kind of development?"
The snail's mouth shifted, and Galit's voice emerged, clipped, delivering a report he knew would cause ripples. "The very short version is that when we went to find the Oceti Ningthou, the Dual Flame Council, they requested an alliance with the Red Hair Emperor."
Charlie cleared his throat, with that precise, scholarly tone that made even the most dramatic revelations sound like academic observations. "Ahem! That adds a layer of complication to our situation. An alliance with one of the Four Emperors is not a small thing. The geopolitical implications—"
Galit's voice cut him off. "I am aware. However, I also agreed."
Professor Kinsho's eyes went wide. "You cannot be serious! An alliance with the Red Hair Emperor? That's—that's—"
Jannali cursed, "Bloody hell."
Galit's voice emerged again. "Who—"
Bianca cut him off, her voice sharp. "Like, ignore him. Like, what do you, like, need from us?"
"The other team is about to make a move," Galit said. "They're going to find Marya's last location and possibly retake the island. Get Marya back. The council is currently on the ship. They're secure." Galit's continued, "Since the Navy no longer has leverage over the warriors, we may have a shot at this, but—"
Jannali leaned in, her voice sharp. "But what, mate?"
"They know we're here."
Bianca's hand tightened on the snail. "Like, but they don't, like, know where we are?"
"Correct. But I assume they will be looking, so I'm moving the ship away from the port."
Bianca nodded, reassured. "Like, cool. We'll, like, stay hidden and stuff. I should be, like, pulling the trigger here, like, real soon too."
"Understood." Galit's said with finality. And then the line went dead.
Professor Kinsho's eyes narrowed, with the heat of a man who had just realized his sanctuary had been invaded. "Who ARE you people?"
Charlie cleared his throat, his voice carrying that precise, scholarly tone. "Ahem! As I said, who we are is of little importance. We are here to retrieve our companion and be on our way."
Jannali's smirk returned, her voice carrying a note of amusement. "Yeah, so wait quietly, yeah?"
Professor Kinsho's eyes narrowed to slits. His jaw tightened, his hands clenching at his sides. "This is—this is my laboratory. My research. My LIFE'S WORK. You can't just—"
Charlie interjected, his voice carrying a note of genuine curiosity that cut through the tension. "I do, however, have some questions about your work."
Jannali held up a hand, her voice cutting through the growing academic fervor. "Oi, you two. Save the nerd chat for later. We've got a friend to save."
Professor Kinsho's enthusiasm flickered, and his suspicion returned. "You're not—you're not going to destroy my research, are you?"
Bianca's voice cut through the tension from across the room. "Like, I'm not going to destroy anything, Professor. I'm, like, literally trying to save my friend."
Ember's giggles echoed from the shadows. "Save her! Save her! We're all going to save her!"
Asper, still clutching his salvaged tools, watched the chaos unfold with the expression of a man who accepted the universe's unpredictability. His calculation wheel clicked in a steady rhythm.
"Unquantifiable variables," he muttered. "Unpredictable biological anomalies. The entire scenario is—"
Ember darted out from behind a gear assembly, her neon-pink space buns askew, her mismatched eyes gleaming. She lunged at Asper—
And he buckled over, gasping for breath.
"No! No! I won't let you—"
Asper's voice carried the desperation of a man who had been chased too many times. "I didn't—I wasn't—please don't—"
Ember's laugh echoed off the stone walls, high-pitched and wild. "You can't catch me! You can't catch me! The Logic Man can't catch me!"
And then she was gone again, disappearing behind a stack of blueprints with a final, triumphant shriek.
Asper pressed his fingers to his temples, his wide eyes blinking in the turquoise glow. "The tools. My tools. The torsion ratios. The structural integrity—"
Professor Kinsho watched the chaos unfold with the expression of a man who had given up trying to understand the universe. "I don't—I can't—this is—"
Jannali clapped him on the shoulder, her voice carrying a note of genuine sympathy. "Don't worry, mate. They're always like this. You get used to it."
Professor Kinsho looked at her, his eyes wide with horror. "I don't want to get used to it."
"Too late," Jannali said. "You're already part of it."
The Engine hummed, turquoise static crackling along its surface. The stone walls trembled. And somewhere in the chaos of the laboratory, Ember's giggles continued to echo, high-pitched and wild, a constant reminder that in this world, nothing was ever truly under control.
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