After Ren and Mitzy’s antics and Meen-Tra’s subsequent scolding, the hodgepodge group rattled their way down the Mire road. The party made all haste toward Murkspire. Mog and Nosh took point, their keen eyes scanning the way ahead. Hecate traveled in the rear, his sphere of detection invaluable.

  Camo did his best to entertain the rescued prisoners – anything to keep their minds from the devastation. The enterprising frogkin had put on a kettle, powered courtesy of a monster core from Ren. “Well, I think it's fair to say that my anti-gravity teapot has really paid off! You wouldn’t believe the scrolls I had to sign to build the thing – that Talon, he’s a real stickler for the rules; fire hazard compliance, mana relief valve, child safety protocols–”

  Ren chuckled as he listened to the aptly named Camo explain the Spires' permitting structure. The listening orcs tried to decide which was worse-the [Apothecary]’s stories or the looming threat of devourment.

  Draven and his new kindred spirit Hecate enjoyed a rune-stick, as the two took turns piercing each other's smoke rings -- while Mitzy dozed in the crook of Spike's shoulders – demonstrating yet another excellent use of gnomish utility chord.

  Ren had to admit, things were looking up – not the colossal shamblers, or dragon worm, as he was affectionately calling it – but the new faces. Hecate, Mog, Nosh, Camo, and even Meen-Tra. He smiled at the sandal maker, her face smashed into a pile of rags, as she too slept.

  There was, however, one unexplained face, and Ren wasn’t sure where to begin, and that was saying a lot for someone like him. No, what he had was an Earth problem, or more importantly, a –

  “Ren – come in, Ren, this is Pat. Do you have an answer?” Pat asked over the comms.

  “Are you sure you're from Earth? How do I know you’re not an AI, sent from the future to trick me into a patricide?”

  Ren was bad at movie references, but the point still stood – he didn’t know anything about Pat, and they...they weren't like anyone from Earth he'd ever known.

  Pat insisted that they and DG4 could evolve into a warship, and wondered if maybe Ren didn’t want to join them in a throuple. Pat insisted that it wasn’t a romantic throuple – they didn’t go in for men, they had repeatedly assured Ren, not that he cared – his concerns were…more meta.

  Pat was painting a kind of Transformers situation, and Ren had to admit they were definitely headed down some type of road.

  “Listen, Ren, I’m not Peter Thiel come to give speeches on the antichrist while I operate an AI surveillance company for the federal government – and I don't own a Silicon Valley tech company named after a Lord of the Rings magical all-seeing eye. That’s just not who I am, ok?”

  Well dang it, Ren had to give it to them. Pat was definitely familiar with the modern manosphere. He kept tabs on people like them – Ever since his mother’s death.

  Americans were saying the craziest things – fake news was out, podcasters and influencers were in, and those with power had been saying the craziest things. Ren’s mother always told him the revolution would not be televised, if only she’d lived to see what social media had become.

  Killed by her own – now wasn’t the time for reminiscing; he had enough on his plate.

  “Alright, Pat, you’re from Earth, I get it – but that doesn’t mean I want to go full Voltron with you two – I’ll admit that I can…feel DG’s emotions, but how does that turn us into a battle blimp?”

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  “Well…I was thinking more along the lines of a Power Rangers kind of situation. I always found their colour coding to be on point, and we already have green and black covered, so maybe you could be the yellow?”

  Ren sighed, “Power Rangers? Just how many – Look history lessons aside, Pat, I like running around on my own two feet, and my class rocks.”

  DG whistled encouragement while pushing feelings of pride across their bond. Ren still wasn’t used to that, and their connection only grew stronger. So he did have to face the very real possibility of…developments — he wasn’t sure what the right word was.

  Was he being evolved? Or transformed – was he an experiment, were they all? Did God play video games? Ren didn’t know, but he had to consider all possibilities – after all, magic was real.

  “Yoo Pat – what’s your class?”

  “[Pat in the hat].”

  …

  “I’m sorry, what?”

  “My class is [Pat in the hat] – over.”

  “I see, what does it do?” Asked Ren.

  “Not sure. I don’t have any levels – that's a thing, right? My MaxTech helmets' telemetry seems to have been incorporated into my DG4 space – and there was the quest thing – but I’m not sure where that came from. I have the party window, which is very well done in terms of aesthetics, but that's not a skill – it's from a quest reward.”

  “Look alive yee! Thurs turble comin!”

  Hecate’s voice boomed, causing a ripple of panic. Ren fell back, positioning himself atop the rear wagon. He stood tall, looking for any sign of disturbance.

  “Twas a neat trick afore lad, I wunna be so quick ta try again.”

  Ren was sure he’d met Hecate before – he just couldn’t pin down where from. That was a problem for another day; he had impossible odds to beat and death to defy. He moved to step off the wagon when Mitzy loudly cleared her throat – pulling him up short – he looked to the mecha, who was pointedly staring at his shoulder.

  The spikey-headed [Echo Runner] looked to his shoulder – then back down at Mitzy, before dusting off his hoodie. Mitzy nodded forcefully as she cleared her throat again, insistently.

  “Would you like a – ride?” Ren asked tentatively.

  Mitzy drew Rivetlock and fired off a shot before Ren could so much as blink, sinking its claw into his shoulder. Mitzy let out a small cry that sounded suspiciously candy-related, as the pink prissy missy pulled herself onto his shoulder. She landed with a soft thud, drew open his hood, and jumped inside – where she rocked back and forth. Once comfortable, she proffered Ren an innocent smile, as he balked over his shoulder.

  “Let us be off, I’ve gumballs to make, and these overgrown sugarless shrubs are standing in my way.”

  Ren nodded as he stepped off the train and broke into a run. He didn’t know about gumballs, but he could definitely use some chill time.

  “This levitation thing you got going is quite impressive. My wafflestompers are jealous; these bad girls come in handy. They’ve saved me more times than I care to remember. More separatists have fallen to their tricks than it is decent to mention.”

  Ren held up a hand, “Question, separatists are people?”

  Mitzy nodded, “Technically, but anyone who would–”

  Ren continued, “People are people, whether beastkin, or a – whatever Pat is. The point is they aren’t born evil, right?”

  “Ren, they don’t have any SUGAR!” She was on her boots – gripping his hair blades while pressing her face to his head in a manic attempt to make him understand.

  “I see, well, that is terrible, Mitzy – honestly, that's just terrible. What if you brought them sugar – what if you could liberate the… separatists from their sugarless hell?”

  Mitzy released Ren, a faraway look in her eyes, as a single tear ran down her cheek. “T-that’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever heard – do you really think I could –”

  The rustling of a million leaves, a storm was coming, and yet their surroundings remained calm – still.

  Ren picked up his pace, throwing every ounce of his concentration into speed. “[Gumball On A Stick].” Ren surged forward.

  He leaned into the aehter, swirving to and fro, as he gained a handle on his sudden acceleration. Slowing down would have been the obvious choice – just not for Ren, “This is fire – let’s finish this, I don’t wanna miss tea time.”

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