"The Meeting" /// PART 1 (Fan Creations)

by INSANEdrive, ಥ_ಥ | f(ಠ‿↼)z | ᕕ( ᐛ )ᕗ| ¯\_(ツ)_/¯, Monday, November 09, 2020, 23:00 (1474 days ago) @ INSANEdrive

“The Meeting”

Click. Tick. Click. Tick. Click. Tick. Click. Tick…

A rhythm of Newton's cradle. Its unnaturally steady clicking and ticking was... oddly soothing, matched against the melodies in electric warbled ambiances which otherwise prevailed in Zavala's Office. With eyes closed, if you focused on the clicking and ticking, it could help let the world melt away. Than ultimately, one could bring about some focus to all the myriad of thoughts to contemplate. There are... many things to contemplate today. There is always something of course, but when social interactions get involved, it always seemed to act has some sort of force multiplier. Especially when said social interactions were anticipated to bring about discussion upon such... troubled times. Times where long contemplated questions show that the greatest fear can be an answer. No longer hypothetical. Or perhaps the modifier is “no longer the illusion of” would be best? Were they not always going to return? Were they not always going to affect, as they did before?

… and how will all this effect my Fireteam?

Upon such questions, suddenly there are even more questions; Do I really want to ask my true question? It’s conclusion is so obvious, but… what do I say in its inevitable response? How will I effect my Fireteam? If my question proves true, can I do it? Even if I could, should I? In doing so, would I be betraying the Traveler? Would I even be able to show my face, or shall I wish to change it entirely? How will my question effect my Fireteam? Well, I know Wally isn’t going to like it. Nope. Not one bit. It’s going to get ugly, that much is certain. Ah, who am I kidding… I already know the answer upon the both of ‘em, I just don’t know what to do with it.

With a glance to the left, of eyes reopened, these thoughts were once again ebbed from the rhythm of Newton's cradle. It had occurred to the Warlock known as Wendell, that for it to click and tick at such an absolute and steady rhythm, Zavala must have had something done to it with the light. It could click and tick forever at a constant rate unless physically stopped. Heh, such an irony. Newton may have never of approved.

Wendell suddenly found himself ever so gradually looking up. Up to the Traveler, but how could you not? A shattered yet whole sphere hovering as it always did over the city built beneath it. A city bundled tightly around its glowing shadow. A leg to hide behind and we the children whom would seek its comfort. Wendell chuckled in contemplation. “In all the things we can do..” he said out loud to himself, the electric hum of an Exo intertwined in his voice, “...we are just trying to figure out what to do with time”.

He mused a little more, silently contemplating some self existential thoughts, and looked back up through the tall windows of Zavala's Office. It didn’t really matter where in the city you were; be you at street level by the Schnell Crater, where the size of the Traveler seemed swallow part of the sky, or by the very top of the walls which surround The Last City; the scope and size of the Traveler always seemed to bring some sense of awe. It never got old. “Well, I suppose that makes two of us” said Wendell, once again speaking – primarily – to himself.

As the feelings of ease built in the moment receded away, it was replaced once again by the questions. By… darker questions. The burdens of guilt in consideration. The considerations of fear a great burden. Fortunately, such darkness in fears was nothing new for a Warlock. Fear is part of what you sign up for when you seek knowledge. Seek new unknowns and old histories. Skills, abilities, or techniques; alone or in a group. It all requires some starting fear to dare walk that mirrors edge between brilliance and madness. Indeed, the sheerness in scope of what is to be learned can be the cause for fear its self. There is so so much, that even with a seeming infinitude of time, fear is an unavoidable cost that must be paid as you walk step by step and stone by stone into that… that howling unknown. And even if you succeed and you solve old fears, you inevitably learn of some new ones. Everything has a cost, and some folks just don’t know how to pay for it without breaking something.

This is what scares me the most, that some upon my fireteam will reject any consideration I propose. On top of that… I just can’t seem to think straight to be able to speak for what it needs. All I can seem to find by and large are more questions! Why is that? I’ve been feeling “off” for weeks.

So… ever since I finished my mission… what was it called? The code? Inference? Interferon? … no no… Interference! That’s it… and something in me had changed. Was different. Was it something done by… what was that name? The Necromancer? The Supplicant to Savathûn? Ahhhh... the name is of no consequence… no no its just a pawn. Just another deathless thing dying! Yet, after I defeated it, something is now different? But what?

Wendell searched and searched his mind, but could find nothing to salve an explanation of this splinter “thought”. It felt like a memory rediscovered, lost at the tip of the so called tongue. Something he knew, but with out any of the substance as to why. A knowing without knowing… eating at him. An incorporeal digging. “Maddness”, Wendell said aloud. “There is so much noise in my head today. Maybe it’s just a loose wire. Maybe it’s nothing. No no no… something is different! Rrrrrr... lets figure this out! I can feel it!”

In speaking this, Wendell looked to his hands, where there was the long lingering tingeing sensation upon his fingers. Cold, but from the inside. That’s what he thought he was feeling, anyway. He balled up his hand than stretched them out far and looked to the back of them. Nothing seems a matter on the surface level. Systems check after systems check came up clear, and even his ghost from past casual scans, general scans couldn’t find anything to cause such a sensation of cold. Of… difference. Like the inside his finger tips were feeling some distant space somewhere else.

The cold winds were howling outside, the blustered haze quick and the flurries of snow dancing about around him. Wait… snow? With a gasp and a glancing quickness, Wendell looked up from his hands.

Click. Tick. Click. Tick. Click. Tick. Click. Tick…

Relative silence. It was a beautiful, seasonally warm evening upon a wholly new month. The Sun emerged, piercing through a tuft of clouds, starting yet another evening in paintings with light. A shading upon the evening air with its bright tapestry of colors. It… felt good shining through. The light. And suddenly it was a moment of joyful contemplation. Once again, Wendell spoke out loud, a tear of lubricant drawing from his eye duct; “It’s truly amazing how light can change the room. How simple it all is. The splendor of it all.”

The splendor of it all? Hmmm.

Wendell glanced around Zavala's Office, and found himself thinking upon the room. This vast hall. It really is quite nice. It was adorned in such a way that was warm, yet precise. An all too rare glimpse of what just felt right. It wasn’t dissolute, a destruction stripping off the bare bones of how things were once built, nor was it some obtuse festering wealth above all. A fetishisticly gaudy mess, and you can’t buy taste. Indeed, even in comparing this office to a land of dreams, it was all far more real then any wishes could be.

Zavala's Office was stone and wood and undoubtedly made with care. The room its self was segmented with subtle depths through its number steps and stages. The tall concrete slabbed walls contrasted from the rich dark wood and white marble of the floor. There were in-built bookcases by the rooms entrance and a green plant or two, well tended by the tall windows soaked in ebbing sunlight. Not even sure where he got the wall fountain idea at the entrance hall to the office. The red flags hanging on the inside wall of the office entrance was a nice contrast too. A burst of color. All in all a very simple, but fine office, and to the Titans credit… yes… I think everything has a space. Memorials, awards, books, a place to knit and crochet, it was… now no longer surprised… orderly. It was exactly what it needed to be and nothing else. All in all, Wendell imagined ultimately that this is how things might have been at some point in the Golden Age. Simple, and fine, yet to add for it being an idea of the Golden Age, advanced and true. And finally, so so easy to take for granted… Oh! Look at that. The built in Vanguard symbol is a nice touch too!

Vanguard.

The Warlocks thoughts stopped for the briefest of a moment. Always a sad thing to see, but it was sadness that had stopped his thoughts for a moment. The rumored upcoming ban from the Vanguard means, if true, I’m not going to be able to go to the farm any more. That’s so sad. It was such a nice respite. On top of that, with all that happened to Sloan and Ash…

*SIGH*

The outward sigh forces the thoughts of the Warlock back into Zavala's Office.

A room like this is all too rare a gem nowadays. Especially for a Guardian like myself, though perhaps the city too. Than again… I don’t know do I? I’ve never actually been down to the city, as Guardians are banned on City travel. Been that way at least since the “mite” incident back on the old tower, as I recall. Still, I really hope I could go and see… I… maybe someday. There is just too much to do. Pluck planetary materials, shoot and vaporize an endless stream of foes who wish to subdue us, dance in random places at random times, dismantle “rare” kit… again… and again… and again… and again, and again, and again, and again and again and again. Kill a god or two to pass the time. I’m booked! In fact, the only time I think I’d be able to do it is if I had an office just like this. Or an apartment or something! Some nice place that wasn't within the confines of a ship or the rawness of the lost worlds… or at least… the raw worlds that have yet to be stolen from us. Again.

Again.

Click. Tick. Click. Tick. Click. Tick. Click. Tick…

No no no no… my information is still incomplete! There will just be more questions!! Wait… is that bad? Of course not of course not, no no… it… it’s just not time yet for those thoughts, they aren't here yet. Let’s... keep… thinking about... this... office. Yeah, yeah. The Sun still feels good, and the Traveler, this great shattered sphere, “awake” but still silent… still hovers above the last city. Why? No no… the office the office.

Wendell pivoted his head and looked around. He knew if he had his way, there would be far more books… everywhere. Rugs on the wall to hide the tall concrete walls and a few more pillows in a corner or two, to rest or read from. Maybe a little of both, intermittently. And in some other corner, a place to make some nice tea. Darjeeling, Chai, or Chamomile. That would be nice. Just reading of the worlds and histories, trying to figure where to explore next, what mystery needed to be solved, all while immersed in pillows and a fine pot of tea at the ready. The Warlock shook his head… now he was over doing it. Far too much of a dream. And then the wood flooring caught his eye. Was it walnut? Birch?… no birch is far more blond in hue. Zebrawood? Mahogany? The Warlock sighed privately realizing he didn’t know much about wood when it came to aesthetics in designed construction. He never needed such a known.

How sad. I’ll have to think about that. Maybe if I ask the Cryptarchs if they have anything from the Golden Age about...

“Ay now! Get off Zavalas desk Wendell! What are you doing! Desks are not for sitting!” gently boomed the Titan, known as Wally, out from comparative silence. His soft yet strong, confident voice breaking the forced ebb in wondering thoughts of the Warlock. “For a bunch of know it all's, certainly you should know how to properly use a desk!”

Wendell wryly glanced behind himself, than looked to the Suns position in the sky; “Good evening Wally. It’s nice to see you too. Punctual as always I see.”

“Yea yeah, get off it!”

On the whim, Wendell jumped from the desk with his knees, his arc clearing over two adjacent neglected chairs. Upon landing into the center circular indent of the room, he turned about face towards the room entrance, where Wally was now settling himself for a long chat by leaning against the supporting beam by right door sill, careful not to knock the flag off the wall. Wendell stood straight, adjusting his posture and inquisitively folded his hands at rest into his back, and approached with a question.

“Well if you are here, where is Wataru (渡る)?”

“What do I look like?! I’m not his keeper.”

“Now now… no need to be so cross.”

“Wendell, you darn well know there is plenty of reason to be ‘cross’. To start, I may have lost a fellow Titan-Sister, and even with that I can give you four reasons why time is no longer on our side; Mercury, Mars, Io, and…*sigh* … the ironically named Titan.”

“Ironically?”

“IF IT WAS A TRUE TITAN IT WOULD...!”

“Woah woah, Wally Wally! Brother, please. It’s not gone, we’ve just been recalled from it. It’s a just momentary reprieve.”

“Hmph. Fine. So, where is that Hunter? So help me, if that blasted Hunter went and blew this off I’m going to have to punch something. In fact do you know what I punched the other day…”

The Titans voice faded away for a moment as Wendell thought to himself “How am I to ask about the Darkness with him like this? … I wonder where in this room that trouble prone Hunter is hiding now?”

The Titans voice faded back into attention.

“… that’s why we even have permission to even use Zavala's Office as a semi-private place to meet! Which reminds me! You should not have been on Zavalas desk like that. This is HIS office! We are guests here and we should take great care not to touch anything! We shouldn't be going around and touching any of his...”

Suddenly from atop a bookcase, Shaax Voice blares into the room. A start into music with a deep thumping bass tune.

“Think of it as training Guardian. You can only get stronger from this!”

“Ahhhh!”

A disembodied surprised yell follows with a Hunter, who is now falling from atop the book case to the floor, appearing from seemingly out of nowhere upon landing on his butt with an *oof*, removing his invisibility.

“Ohhhh, so that’s what that’s what the button... uh oh.”

Wally easily picks up the Hunter by the shoulder with his right hand, only to find the Drifter smirking at him. Wally rips off the Hunters outdated paper “Festival Of The Lost” helm and tosses it aside, where it dissolves away moments after. Wally brushes a tuft of the Hunters bright colorless white hair and intensely looks at him straight in his one good human eye.

With gritted teeth, Wallys usually gentle tone turns to a growl.

“… His. Personal. Thinggss… Wataru.”

“And now it’s worse”, thought Wendell.

In a huff and without even a glance, the Titan with a tempered quickness taps the adjacent wall to his left with his fist… the music stops. He than releases Wataru, only to raise his finger at him with response.

“You KNOW that invisibility is against protocol while at the Tower. Knock it off! And I just want to let you know, I really want to punch you right now.”

“Yeah yeah, but, how did you do that? I can’t do that. Why can’t I do that?” Wataru sporadically knocks at the recently tapped wall, his cape flailing about. Nothing but the sound of knocking occurs, during which Wendell asks; “Were you waiting up there the entire time Wataru? ‘Cause that entrance timing was really suspect-”

“Never mind!” interrupts the Wally with a quick hand wave. “Now that you are OFFICIALLY here Wataru, let’s get this started NOW. What all this means for us and… by the Traveler! There is so much. Let’s get this fire team meeting started already.”

The Titan reaches for his helm and with a press and turn in the right place, the seal hisses fourth. No need to be fancy about it. As the helm is lifted off the Titans Head, an Awoken face is revealed. A face of pure bleached white with similarly shaded white hair, and eyes glowing a bright white. Totally pure, sans for a few streaks of black… what appeared to be painted lines upon his face.

“Wendell, please take your helm off. It’s so rare that we’re able to meet face to face, so let’s see ‘em.”

“Very well.” The Warlock does so.

With a wave of his hand the White “Kairos” Shaded CODA Helm dematterised, revealing the full features of the Exo Warlock.

The first thing you would see in any condition upon his face is an obvious intense brightness. The glow of the Exos piercing blue eyes. Then the deep gash braking the silhouette from atop the gray frontal plate, which had been marbled into a Rorschach pattern. And if the light was just right... a difference in sheen from between the dried red smear splashed upon gold colored plating. Everything else was just parts… all brought together into an image of a face that had known many things. Perhaps too much.

The Titan than starts to speak once more, his controlled voice subtly shifting its tone, revealing intense emotion behind the calm and strength. “I admit, in my fever to get here on time, I didn’t consider where we are to start with all of this nastiness...”

...and after a moment of hesitant consideration behind breaths...

“...lets start with... Sloan, if we could please. And then… if we could, lets ease our way into the heart of what brings us here today. You apparently have something to say Wendell? Yes? Some major question? Maybe if we get the chance we could also talk about Eris Morn. These messages she has found in the tasks we’ve been assigned these many weeks I’ve found very troubling. I could use some of your wisdom, Warlock. But first let’s speak of the ones we have lost contact with, and speak our respects toward the honorable sacrifices of…”

Wataru blindly interjects; “Yo hey, um, cool and all but shouldn’t we talk about-the-pressing-changing-stuff-first? Respect-is-cool-but-it’s-done, right! If wer’re-out-of-time-than-dnagit-let’s-use-the-time-we-have! What-dirt-did-the-chick-with-da-rock-find? Do-we-know-how-we-defeat-the-darkness, or-don’t-we? But really if-we’re-going-to-go-to-the-effort-to-make-a face-to-face-talk-then-let’s-just-talk-about-the-threats-or-whatever-so-we-can-go-and-shoot-it! Yeah? YEAH?! Anyone?!”

Both the Warlock and the Titan stare blankly at the Hunter. Unrealized to Wataru, he spoke so animatedly and quickly that his lack of proper pronunciation blurred his words together.

“W-What?” Uttered the Warlock. The Titan rolled his eyes.

“Wataru, please, this is serious stuff. We’ll deal with… whatever you just babbled about in a moment. Respects, must, be paid.”

“Oh… bother.” The defeated Hunter shrugs to the ceiling with a sigh. He knew this was going to be some flipping therapy session.

“So…” starts Wendell, turning back to the Titan and trying to find the right words. “It’s interesting you mentioned Deputy Commander Sloane. Did you see anything amiss while you were there?”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, apparently, after you left some reports state that Sloan took some joyride in a wearable Golden Age weapon. Reports state that she was fighting off a flood of hive in it, and that said weapon ripped and shattered them apart like one would fragile glass. One report states that this wearable weapon was green? Or was it brown or something? Ah... it’s such an erroneous detail, it’s probably best to ignore it, but it is thought that she made a last stand so that others could escape The Pyramids new found reach on Titan. As I understand it, she is currently listed as Missing in Action. So, while you were there, did you see anything? Anything to corroborate these reports?”

“Hmm. A True Titan.”, Wally rumbled to himself. He then faced Wendell, and looked the Warlock in the eyes as he spoke. “I don’t recall seeing anything different than what I had seen in the past. Certainly no golden age wearable, fun as it sounds, I don’t know what such a thing would look like. Didn’t know I should have been looking for one.”

“Yeah.” The Warlock pauses for a moment, once again leaving the hum of the room to sing in the moments silence. It occurred to Wendell why they don’t do this often. His fireteam was not much for conversation or talking in general.

…

The Warlock Continued; “Well she seemed like a solid commander. I hope the reports are true.”

“Thank you Wendell. So uh… how’s the Ash-hole?”

The Warlock gives a look of bewilderment. “Excuse me?”

“OH! How very improper of me… Sorry, right, how embarrassing eh… it’s a pet name… eh, what is that official name… Asher Mir? Asher Mir. You know, the really smarty pants Io guy. I know you saw him last. Has his arm run way from his inscrutable nonsense yet?”

“Um… last report states he went into the Pyramidion to stop the Pyramids from studying it and hasn't been seen since. I don’t know anything else, annoyingly enough. It’s interesting… isn’t it? I wonder if those Pyramidion shapes mean some implication with the Vex? Hmm… I’ll have to think about that. That said, I understand he’s very direct, and yes… his exclusive use of jargon can be fraying at times, but I would have expected as a Titan you’d enjoy his particular brand of directness.”

“If that’s what you call direct, than it is most convoluted method of it.”

“Hm! Interesting. I’ll have to think about that.”

They both look to the Hunter, who is in progress of feeling behind the flag on the wall, trying to find a hidden button or sensor, seismograph… something. Anything. Why has the room become so quiet?

His fire team speaks in unison; “Wataru!”

The Hunter jumps back like frighted cat. “What?! What!”

“Brother Vance” asks Wendell. “You saw him last. What did he say? Do you have anything to add from your… sparse report?”

“You kidding? That ‘ol kook? I have no idea. He sent me to do a thing, hoo’d n haw’d about Osiris this and Fractaline that. Or was that some other time? Anyway at first I thought he was holding back so I acted like I left. Heard ’im talking about some song in the Trials, or something?! But… look, he’s freaking weirdo. The only song in Trails are salt, snipers and revives. It’s probably nothing… so whatever.” Condescendingly “Ok? We good now? Everyone feel better? Can we talk about the freek’n ships now?”

“Not so fast Wataru, there is something else I want to speak about first. A report I found concerning. I just want to know if it is true you are now Titled as a so called ‘Dredgen’ now?”

“What?!” A shocked grimace formed upon Wallys face.

Wendell continues; “Yeah, according to scuttlebutt, Wataru is a Dredgen by Title now.”

“YOU WHAT?!”

Wendell didn’t think eyes could be as wide as the Wallys were now. Oh well, this question is proving to be a solid litmus test. Best continue. The Warlock looks to the Hunter and asks;“Do you know why such rumors would say such?”

All eyes are now on Wataru, a Hunter whose voice is how buried in his throat.

“Uhhhhhh…”

In a flashback of memory, the Hunter considers the question.

~FLASH~

Drifter: “Hey, hey. Let's be straight with each other. I know the Vanguard's watching me. Probably wants you to snitch, am I right? [laughs] If you're considering, I get it. Ol' Drifter likes to play both sides, too. But think about it. You stand with them, you're a dead man walking. Gambit's pissed off a whole lotta dangerous people. You stand with me, I got your back. Trust. So what'll it be?”

The Drifter says something about... I don't know whatever. Wasn’t listening. I say out loud “Sure. Whatever.” Wasn't worth paying attention anyway. Just shut up and show me the Bounties old man, I’ve got stuff to shoot. Go go go go go.

Drifter:“Hahaha! You got grit, kid. I admire a man willing to risk the trust of everyone who's ever been kind to him/her. But lemme set the record straight - you're choosin' to walk with a monster. Monsters survive. Trust. ...”

~/FLASH~

The flashback of memory ends, and now the Hunter must confront reality.

“...Uhhhhhhhhhhhh…Nope! No Idea. Not a clue.”

Watarus eyes shift left and right, as if they were trying to dislodge and escape the moment. And Wendell is reading them as if he would a book.

“You signed something with out reading it didn’t you?”

“Well… uh… I don’t know… but but WHATEVER! What what… what do you expect, eh?! You see?...” -Wataru points to his blind eye- “...it don’t work. I get to spend the rest of eternity as a flippen’ cyclops! So… yeah, I’m a Dredgen in Title now, so what? It’s just a freek’n title. It meaningless! Are you a Savor? Are you actually Almighty? Shit No! It’s nothing! It’s why the Drifter made it up in the first place! So how ‘bout this! If it really bothers you, how bout you call me… A-ahem- EXECUTIVE GUARDIAN SUPER PLUS PLUS SUCK MY ...”

“You DARE turn your back on the Vanguard? Are you without Honor?!” Roars the Titan. “YOU DARE WALK THE PATH OF Dredgen Yor!!!?”

“Woah woah woah woah… don’t get your baby cape in a bunch. Wataru is still doing the Vangardy stuff… and… and look! Now if Mr. Drifty Shifty helps me I can help y'all too, everyone wins! Right?! Heh ha, there is no problem.” Wataru starts to progressively yell louder. “Everything, is fine. Oh wait… except for the freaking ships, of freek’n Darkness, FREEK’N pulle’n a BLASTED flybuy over OUR WORLDS and STEALING em’ suckers… FROM. US! JUST PULLED ON UP AND CALLED US A BITCH, an’ we can’ do shit! CAN WE PLEASE TALK about them POINTY SHITS now!?”

Watarus rant finishing with “See’n as they’n a gosh darned pain in my ass” under his breath.

Wally returns a reply in a humph. “We’re not done with this, you can count on it, but for once… yeah, let’s get to it.”

“Aye yai yai yai yai … Finally! So, we’ve all done what three eyes has been barking about right?”

“Three eyes?” Wally furrows his brow.

Wataru clarifies; “The chick with the flaming bone stone?”

“Excuse me?” queries Wendell.

“Eris Morn? Hello?! Goodness ya’ll are slow.”

The Warlock and Titan look at one another. Wally Speaks: “It... is correct that we have agreed to speak about this topic of Eris Morn, but… and I’m almost afraid to ask; bone stone?”

“Her glowy rock thing that she always has, it’s CLEARLY an Ahamkara bone. We all know that right?”

The Warlock and Titan look at one another again. The Warlock asks: “...and do you have any evidence of this?”

“What?! NO, man! Do you not see it? Just, just look at it! It’s SO OBVIOUS! I mean, I just know it man!”

“Well than…” concludes Wendell, “You really have a way with words Wataru. Well, I guess I’ll take that into consideration next time I get a chance to speak with her… but to the topic at hand? The Messages she has translated for us. I have a few theories and...”

“Right!” interrupts Wataru once again. Seems like Hunters just can’t wait for a thought to be finished. “The vision! The message in the room of Statues. What do you all think it all means?”

Wally crosses his arms, his shoulders unrestricted from a the usual pauldrons of a Titan. “Well, isn’t it obvious. It right well told us. It means we’re going to yet another moon, that’s what it means. It’s clearly a dare.“

Wendell squints as far as his Exo face will allow. It is unusual for a Warlock to find himself without any hint of knowledge to which his peers speak of.

“What? What moon? There was no hint about a moon?...”

The Hunter and Titan look at one another in surprise.

“I do recall, I think… yes… a room of statues, all laying on the floor. Discarded. Used. Some of them in pods…”

“No…” interrupted again by the Hunter. “It clearly mentioned *shhhshshest*. It’s no doubt the next place it intends to steal from us.”

Wendell's senses jolted from the momentary and unexpected soft static.

“I’m sorry… I missed that… what?”

The Hunter speaks again… but it’s selectively muffled.

“Ya know, one of the moons swinging around the, the really big one. I really want to know what you two think could be on it? The pointy darkness ominously seems to really want us to go, which means of course it’s totally a trap.”

“For once I’m in agreement with you Hunter, and I too have this question. I’m looking forward to seeing if you have any incite on this Warlock.”

A piercing fear strikes through Wendell. A moment of thought “I… I don’t know anything”. He then speaks aloud; “Well than… I’m’m sorry… I’ve not been my self as of late. What was the question?”

“What’s do y'all think is on Eooooopha?” Asks the Hunter.

Wendells sensors must be having a slight malfunction. Oh why now?

“What?”

The Hunter yells to the ceiling. “Oh my goodness!”

He jumps slightly, animatedly positioning himself to look straight at Wendell once again, who in a muffle hears him say; “Eooooopha... Eu_pa... E_rop... _uropa... Europa! Europa! Europa!”

The Warlocks head SPARKS from his head gash, jolting his head back alarmingly fast! Wendell gasps and falls crumpling to the ground and begins to seize.

Wataru speaks in shock, as Wally commands an action upon unison.

“What in the!”

“GHOST! GET OUT HEREa!”

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