Prince of Demonbeasts

by Cosmicgiraffe

"Why did he look upon the GSA so highly? Did he really believe they were fighting for justice? While they saved the lives of all other races, they murdered his kind upon sight... and it was the pain and suffering of demonbeasts that bled upon battlefields..." Meta Knight's personal fight for glory and honor... all the while, struggling to hang on to his past...

4. Chapter IV: The Revolutionist

Author Note: Huh. I can kind of see why a lot of fan fiction writers are gone after about two years… 6 months preparing this chapter/ hiatus for less than 10 minutes of reading… ouch.

I've had very little incentive to keep posting chapters of this story mostly because I had hoped to improve my writing and English SAT and ACT scores. I'll be going to high school next year and I need to turn my focuses on those big tests. I've been practicing for them, but nevertheless, I'm deeply worried.

However… I still intend to finish this fic unless I were to suddenly collapse dead from a hand cramp or something, and if did get to the point where I couldn't even continue, I'd post an outline of what would have happened. I don't like unfinished work. I'm so grateful for the support I've been getting from my readers. I've really needed it especially in the last year.

I had a few questions that readers asked me about and I have answered them below here for everyone because I want to be through with getting some of the same questions:

1) Yes. Meta Knight will stab Nightmare eventually. Don't think that just because I introduced other demonbeasts that the direction of the story is going completely off. I will explain more about why I introduced people like Hardy into the plot and why Meta Knight hasn't gotten a whole lot of attention as of now in the bottom author note. I do actually have a specific reason for it and this chapter explains this more.

2) Yes. I know 'demon beast' is two words, but I have two reasons why I've written it as one word. First off, I needed to make the title a little shorter and eye pleasing. Secondly, and more importantly, I wanted to portray the race of demonbeasts as just another race of people in the universe, not a group of savages. Somehow (at least how I see it), 'demon beast' seems to label them as monsters, while 'demonbeast' seems to just be some name given to their race. Eh… I'll just leave that for your own opinions.

3) No. I did not make the 'King of Demonbeasts' or 'Princess of Demonbeasts' thing. That was the doing of other people in different fics.

… Everyone's been asking about the 6th Anti-Loyalist. Just because I am so certain that no one could have possibly guessed who it is (and by the way, this demonbeast is not one of the more well known ones), I'm going to go ahead and spill it so it's not a big shocker once he appears.

The 6th Anti-Loyalist is NOT anymore important than the rest of them. He got inconveniently cut out from the last chapter, although I might be editing him in. It is the Delivery Man from that one episode where Dedede wants to ruin Kawasaki's business by having him send the orders to all the wrong people. It's perfectly fine if you don't recall that episode or didn't even watch the one I'm referring to, just know that STEVE is a robotic-like demonbeast and is pretty good at driving.

Disclaimer: Cosmicgiraffe does not own any character besides Scipio in this chapter. All other characters, the demonbeasts, and NME belong to Nintendo and HAL. Cosmicgiraffe does not own any third party rights over the Kirby franchise. Story is fan-made by Cosmicgiraffe.

X—X—X

-Chapter IV: The Revolutionist-

We're doomed… and this little brat is going to cost our heads…

Scipio tasted the air with a small flick of his slit tongue. Behind him, the other high commanding officers growled and hissed at one another in their argument, but their voices slowly grew in their individual fears. Their faces were flushed from running to and fro about the palace and battlements and shouting orders to their men. Death awaited them all.

The meeting had been hastily called up and some of the most needed officers had not shown up, much to Scipio's discontent; most of the faces here were not ones he knew. Taking one last glance at the hundreds of guards patrolling the perimeter of the battlements, he turned away from the glass window and allowed his scarred, blind eye to scrutinize the fidgeting lieutenants and corporals seated at the end of their chairs around the conference table. Although its pupil had long been clouded over, it still could faintly detect the shape of their figures.

"Ah, well, why do we all cower in fear az if Lord Nightmare chop offa' our headz?" He asked pleasantly, sending up a red flag for several of the older and more experienced officers. "He will greatly reward uz for capturing ze intruderz and bringing ze Prince safely back."

A pen that had been on the table rolled off and clattered nosily in the deathly silence as it hit the ground, and no one bent to pick it up. Perhaps two fighting bacteria could have been heard in that stillness, because there had been no great capture of the rebels and rescuing of the demonbeast prince—each one of them knew that.

"Huh, look who's talking all high and mighty. Just like your daddy, eh? General Grumman was it?" An eagle demonbeast sneered in his deep voice, quickly regaining some composure. "I heard you stabbed him in the back so you could take his place."

"My father knew I waz going to killz 'im…" Scipio hissed. "And he haz nothing to do with ze situation we haz…"

Inside, his inner turmoil with his long dead father burned. He was in the council of the very same officers the legendary General Grumman had led… but he could not let them waste the precious minutes away while the rebels, who had the Prince, escape. Why were they choosing now, of all times, to strike his nerves? But he had to admit: he too was on the edge of snapping.

Many of these men were animal types far more fierce than a lizard. Among the heads of the room, he could see a looming cobra snake-demonbeast, a shark demonbeast, a lion, a bear… the thought of it only seemed to spiral him back to thinking about his father. He could not win their respect, but his father had as well as Lord Nightmare's. It was his father who was renowned for leading the full army into several planet and galaxy raids, but he had not even campaigned in a single battle yet.

Curse it! If only I had fangs or… or something impressive to display… then these idiots would listen to me… I need to get their attention before…

Scipio felt his throat constrict. The time was wasting…

He looked up to where a small (smaller than him, he saw with some satisfaction) toad-like demonbeast sat rigidly with upmost attention. All the gleaming medals displayed proudly on his uniform easily labeled him as a newly promoted lieutenant. Maybe if the situation had not been dire, Scipio would have enjoyed it more. All of them… so arrogant and clueless…

He walked forward, passing by each chair and demonbeast until he finally stopped behind the officer's seat, taking a long pause. Then, hissing softly in the lieutenant's ear, he said,

"Would you like to take ze honorz to tell our great lord zat ze Prince WAZ JUST KIDNAPPED?"

The shout pierced their ears… and their sanity to stay and face what Nightmare would surely bring upon them. Several of the officers sitting near got out of their seats, to avoid getting smacked with his tail should he lash out.

And he did.

The now abandoned chairs slammed into the table, moving the entire thing a few good shoves away. Scipio jumped up on to it, consciously exhaling slowly to steady his outburst, although by now, all of the anger that had welled up in him was at the brim.

"Wat were you lazy foolz doing while ze intruderz so eaz-ily came in and kidnapped ze Prince? Opening doorz and greeting zem? Answer me!"

Some of them shook in silent fear, knowing that what they were dreading was inevitable… but why were they afraid? He was the one who was going to have to make the report to Nightmare. No amount of pain he could possibly inflict upon these cowardly idiots could equal to the wrath he would face if the Prince was not returned soon. All the while, hot beads of sweat rolled down his own scaly neck as he gritted his teeth.

"The little brat's more trouble than he's worth…" He thought grimly to himself. "And I'm disgusted I almost dropped to my knees for him when I saw his destructive power. Could this possibly be the downfall of Lord Nightmare's brilliance? Is he… weakening?"

Had Nightmare not gone into his moody sulk however, the kidnappers would not have made their move. He remembered in the past when the dark emperor's unstable emotions had kept him locked up in his own throne room during the middle of a decisive war that could have won them another galaxy's quadrant a lot easier and sooner. Nightmare was completely blind during his mood swings and his consciousness of what was happening seemed to dull. As far as Scipio knew, Nightmare didn't even know about Prince Meta-K02 being kidnapped!

But that meant he still had time to get the Prince back and act as if nothing particularly unusual had happened and now, the only thing that was stopping him was the lack of control he had over these bumbling fools who had the guts to even consider themselves high-ranking captains.

"But Sir! It was that trashcan devil again! You ever see any demonbeast shoot a single bullet through three guards clad in armor?"

"And the smell that wafts around him! The rot of garbage and whatever the hell he's got in him could choke a whale with the reek. The men under my command were the first there and every one of them either passed out or retreated back!"

"Youz wantz to know wat I saw?" Scipio hissed quietly. "Zhere waz three of zem against sixty-seven guardz. Two of zem had gunz and only one of zem waz doing ze shooteen!"

Somewhere in the back of his mind, he was reminded that the time they were wasting would never come back— the rebels were escaping.

"You allz will go pick up your gunz and findz zem! Ze intruderz! You fail again and I skin youz all! I hang your carcassez out ze window to blow in ze wind!"

"But Sir-"

"You zhere! Get ze scientistz in 'ere wth zheir experiment!"

The conference room's doors were immediately opened to the two demonbeast in white lab coats wheeling in a cart with a metal capsule. Any protests were quickly silenced as the officers craned their heads to see this spectacle. Prince Meta-K02's model type had been meant to be the only new demonbeast model manufactured for a good thousand years. The event itself was rare —and for one to be created specifically to handle one individual? This was something they did not want to miss.

One of the scientists nervously came forward, bowing his head a little.

"Commander Scipio, our team finished… your uh… request…after extensive amount of time and patience we put in. We'd like to quietly warn that it's not very… well, attractive… but its abilities will satisfy you sir. We-"

"Just openz it…"

He gave a stiff nod and the two scientists held the locking device on the capsule's sides and with a content click, it opened with along hiss of escaping air. They all leaned forward to see the small figure, not even half the size of the capsule, emerge with a small sneeze. Noseman. That was the experiment's name. The little demonbeast was rather hideous with its huge nose. It's dull eyes only seemed to reflect the lack of thought that was happening within its mind.

A pause. Then, the room erupted into laughter. Scipio, however, was not about to let more valuable time tick away.

"It iz good enough, if zis will be what findz ze gunner fer us!"

"S… Sir? This is what's going to find that devil?"

"Aye. Zat iz wat I juz said, idiot."

"What's it going to do? Sniff them out?"

"Exxxxactly…" He answered, brining their laughter to an abrupt halt.

The little brown demonbeast was now sniffing Scipio's boots. It looked up and with a bold sneeze, it said,

"NOSEMAN."

The lizard picked up the garbage can, another item he had asked the scientists in advance to bring when they came, and dumped its contents on the floor in front of the experiment demonbeast. It took one sniff, and then rejected it with a wheezing cough. Kicking a rusted can closer to it, Scipio stared hard at it. Noseman eyed it, with some consideration, bent down to smell it. It froze, wrinkling its nose as it breathed in the air. Then, it scrambled towards the door to paw at it and Scipio pointed after it.

"Openz ze door and follow it! Ze Nozeman will findz ze trashcan 'un and ze rest of zem! Don't fail me again, or all of us will pay with our headz!"

---

The kitchens—not the most brilliant place to run, but Walky seemed sure of it anyways. The little microphone demonbeast had gotten off of Duston's shoulder and ran ahead, although painfully slowing; all three of them were. Hardy could feel his battery power steadily drop… curse it, being mechanical.

Duston held the rear, his empty revolvers in his hands. Of course, he could continue to pretend that they still had the unmatched firepower, but it would not take long for any guard to realize they were out of ammunition.

"Y... you sure you know where you're going?" Hardy choked.

"No, but cryin' in the corner ain't gunna' do nobody any good… and aint' none of us e'er gone through this place before! It's huge!"

"ENTER, EASY. LEAVE, HARD."

"Shut it, big guy. Gunna' git us caught one day with that loud mouth of y-" Walky hissed before he suddenly exclaimed," Hey, we found it!"

The doorway ahead was a constant motion of demonbeasts, mostly mechanical ones like themselves, coming in and out with carts and trays of assorted dishes heaped with food. But somewhere behind them, they could hear the march of soldiers. Anywhere was better than out here in the open hallways.

So in they went, rather awkwardly pushing their way forward into the room filled with steam from the pots and pans scattered across the stovetops. The working demonbeasts looked up, staring at them but still busily working on their tasks. Trying not to look to nervous… or suspicious, Hardy shuffled through the narrow aisles after his co-workers to the back room which Walky shoved open with his tiny body.

Looking up, Hardy saw two figures at the counter; one talking in a low voice while the other quietly listened as his eight arms each did their own separate task at washing the mountains of platters and bowls. Both turned, the one wearing the suit making an explosive outburst as the coffee he was drinking came out in a spray.

"Wha-WHAT? You guys are still here?"

"Hey, Boss. We got forced down 'ere cause them guards blocked every way outta' 'ere!"

"What the hell are you standing there for? The guards are going to be storming in here any minute… I'm not even supposed to be here! They're going to question both Goan and me!

"Hey! We tried but got stuck out there and-"

"Tried? TRIED? Our heads are going to be chopped off if they catch us and you guys tried? Run before they get here!"

"There are no places ta' run, ya' hear? You were supposed ta' send us directions outta' here and ya' nevah' did!"

"You think I could have sent any call without getting us listened in on?"

"We were runnin' around, tryin' ta' guess which hall wouldn't have any guards in it or not. And we got no more ammo either! How about next time you go try doin' that!"

Suddenly, the man in the suit stood up, his orange glasses flashing angrily as both shot back one heated remark after the other. The others were left standing their uncomfortably, wondering if they should say something or if doing so would make it worse. While they argued, Hardy felt a sudden thought occur to him.

Why are all these people actually famous?

Walky had certainly taken him some time to recognize, not being an avid fan of pop music, but Monsieur Goan's influence was seen in just about every restaurant, being an acclaimed chef and the head of the kitchens at the palace, not to mention the host of his own cooking show. And then there was Customer Service… actually, Hardy didn't even know what exactly the suited figure, who so frequently appeared across the media, did for a living, but it surprised Hardy that this man, who worked in the palace and almost directly under Nightmare, was apparently the leader of this rebel group.

He became aware that Customer Service had turned his attention away from the cursing microphone demonbeast and was looking at him now.

"I take it that you're the new recruit? Hardy, is it? Goan was the one who found your name in the listings, not me," He said, clearly trying to distract himself. "Well, I hope Walky hasn't doomed your first mission and all the rest of us here."

Walky complained about taking the blame for everything when suddenly, the salesman froze as if he was beginning to consider something. Hardy realized the question he was about to ask before he even spoke it.

"Where's the Prince?"

"Hmph, well Dusty went and ate 'im ta' free up his hands."

Silence. Then,

"GET HIM OUT! He's going to suffocate!"

"Going to what?"

"Duston!" Customer Service gasped. "Open your mouth and get the boy out!"

The trashcan demonbeast did so, feeling panicky that he somehow killed the little demonbeast prince. Monsieur Goan cleared the entire countertop with a wide sweep of his arms and Customer Service himself ran up to Duston and dug through the reeking contents. Finally, he pulled the demonbeast prince, who was now unconscious, out and set him on the countertop with worry.

"Goan, get a bucket and fill it with water…"

The chef turned and his eight arms flew off in different directions. One hand opened the door to a supply closet up while another took hold of the bucket and brought it back to him. Two hands turned on the faucet and the bucket was dunked underneath and filled up. He grabbed an extra towel and returned back to the counter.

Customer Service put his head to the demonbeast prince's chest before he stood up, took the bucket, and dumped its contents over Meta-K02. The boy coughed and spluttered, a sign of life, but did not open his eyes. However, it was enough. Customer Service collapsed back into his chair,

"Hardy, you're in charge of the Prince from now on. I hope I can trust you to not kill him somehow. Why do I try and explain suffocation to mechanical demonbeasts? All you guys need are batteries but the rest of us have to breathe!"

"Well, Boss. Looks like you're a bad planner, eh?" Walky commented dryly.

"Walky, I don't want to hear you talk. I've had enough of you already…"

Monsieur Goan suddenly sat up straight; his face paling and Customer Service understood its message. Outside, they could hear the cooks shout in surprise as guards entered the kitchens. Hoarsely, he swore.

"We… we have to run… but where? I'm not even supposed to be here! They're going to recognize my suit without even a glance at my face!"

The chef scurried over to a closet where its doors slid apart and tearing through it, he drew out a large tan jacket that he threw to him. It was rather big for him, but Customer Service put it on without a second thought and it hid most of his striped suit from view. Monsieur Goan went over to a locked, metal door and punched in a password in its keypad. Swinging open, cold air blew into the room and they all peeked in. It was a walk-in refrigerator, a large hall to accommodate all the food that had to be stored to feed the entire palace's population. By now, the shouts were coming closer and somewhere, they heard the small sounds of scratching… and sniffing.

Customer Service seemed to piece together something with a small amount of shock.

"They were tracking Duston down… that's how they found us! By his smell! Could that be a new demonbeast model? But in that case… there's no place that we could possibly run that could get us away from whatever it is."

None of them moved. They were looking at the salesman for orders, but he was at a loss for words. Monsieur Goan glanced up at the doors at the end of the hall, which connected to other kitchens, but slowly found himself looking up at the vent that hung over the hall. All the air there would travel throughout the entire palace. If Duston's concentrated smell were equalized throughout, the tracking demonbeast would gradually lose them. He took Customer Service by the shoulder and wordlessly pointed up at his discovery.

"Goan, you're a genius. Come on! We have to hurry!"

He pulled the chef to follow the others in, but Monsieur Goan did not move. The guards were banging on the locked door now and he looked wistfully up. He was staying behind where he was supposed to be working. He gave Customer Service no more chances to linger. He pushed the salesman into the refrigerator halls and locked its door behind them, returning to his workstation just as the guards broke through the door and entered the back kitchen.

"Halt! You there! Which was did the rebels go?"

Inside the refrigerator hall, Customer Service grabbed Hardy's arm, hissing in a quiet voice.

"Get going! You're the one who has drills to open the vent!"

"But they're too delicate! They're for-"

"MOVE IT!"

The drill attached to his back groaned as he jammed it into the screw and began turning it. It made a lot of noise, but the guards outside seemed to have realized they were inside the refrigerator halls already. They hammered against it, shouting threats and curses. Customer Service's breaths came out in a small cloud as he rubbed his arms to keep warm.

"How long does it take to unscrew four little bolts? Hurry up!"

"Almost…" Hardy said, giving a final push to unscrew the last bit out and the entire vent cover came crashing down on them. Customer Service pulled himself free from under the cover and turned to look up at the new opening. Outside, the guards were shouting at Monsieur Goan to type in the password for the hall.

"You get up there and help pull Duston up, he's going to be the hardest to squeeze in. Hardy, you get under him and push him up. Then you get inside. I'll come in after you."

The little microphone demonbeast jumped up on to a stack of crates and clambered into the vent. Hardy was not so sure whether or not he'd actually be able to hold Duston's weight, but he cast his doubts aside and helped the trashcan demonbeast get up on to the first box. Monsieur Goan apparently was pretending to have forgotten the password, because the shouts of the guards were becoming more and more impatient by the second.

Duston suddenly slipped and Hardy's eye bulged a little as all the weight was transferred to the back of his eye, which was attached to nothing else but a thin cord. He strained against the load, pushing as hard as he could. Walky could not really do anything but stand there while Duston struggled to pull himself up into the vent, which was thankfully just large enough to probably squeeze him in.

Then, he was through. Walky cheered and Hardy got in next. Finally, Customer Service leapt up and hid himself from view just as the doors opened. A small, brown creature darted in and stopped at the vent, smelling it intently.

"Up there, men! Get them!"

The rebels pushed forward when they came upon a shaft leading straight down. They looked at each other before one by one, they dropped down the chute.

Monsieur Goan watched the guards storm the refrigerator halls, silently praying his friends got away. While the guards searched the rooms, he carefully pulled his cell phone from the back pocket of his apron and texted a message.

---

Hardy might have been the 'new guy', but there was another member of the group that was given the title of 'the other guy'. Steve drummed his fingers against his wheelie bike's handle as they waited in traffic. While being a member of the group, he so far had not done much other than meet with them down at the their bureau on the fifty-fourth street level. They recruited him to watch the streets and more particularly, on the activity of the Imperial Police.

The cars slowly inched forward. He turned around to retie the packages he was delivering.

Something at his side buzzed and he flipped open his cell phone. One message was displayed on its screen:

Goan 10:45 Today: Help. 2.

Steve turned off the device and looked back up at the traffic. It would take another hour before he would reach his first stop. He was on a road facing away from the palace, but if they needed his help…

Under him, his wheelie anxiously fidgeted, wanting nothing more than to drive free. It seemed to anticipate they were turning back and it started up its engines. Steve untied the packages and with a little reluctance, let them fall. Those packages would never get delivered. He was caught in an accident; he decided would be his story, and stepped down on the gas pedal.

The drivers behind them jumped in their seats as he came straight at them, zipping between their cars. His wheelie bike excitedly sped forward, gaining speed as it dove under cars and other motorcycles and looped around trucks. A couple of police cars came after him soon after, their sirens blaring at him as they shouted,

"Hey! Pull over and stop your bike!"

He shrugged, only stepping harder on the gas pedal. Not that he really could have answered them anyways: the owners at the NME Delivery Corp. who made his model type at the hundreds didn't think their specially designed workers needed the ability to speak.

It was not long before the police lost him and he pulled over to the sidewalk, looking around. He was quite certain that the '2' that Monsieur Goan had requested for meant bikes. The group needed bikes. He sensed a big get-away coming up ahead. Steve drove on until he found a bike rack with several wheelie bikes. Tough choosing –all of them were nice bikes. He waited a few more seconds, just in case the owners of the bike happened to come, and in a flash, hacked at the bike chains with a tool he had made himself. The wheelies began to spin in circles with their new found freedom, but he took hold of their reigns and tied them to his own bike. Now for the palace…

He arrived at the gates earlier than he anticipated he would. The traffic lightened as he drawn close and he now waited at the guard post as the sentry there looked through his permits. The guard frowned, finally handing back the paper slip.

"Hmph. Alright. You may pass, but why is it that all the workers from NME Delivery Corp. are sent with permits that expired three years ago? Tell your boss we…"

Steve was already inside the gates before the guard could get any further and he drove away in slight amusement. Perhaps the guard neglected to consider it, but if the palace was under lockdown, he should not have even been able to go through the front gates, which were by far more convenient than trying to venture through the sewers and come up inside of the palace.

But while he drove in, he took note of the security system that opened and closed the gates. He hoped that dumb guard would still be on duty by the time he and the others were coming out.

The gates closed behind him and he entered the main courtyard and quickly took a turn behind a wall, out of the view of the guards on the battlements.

"Steve! Over here!"

He turned, spotting the group on a ledge on the palace's walls. They received him with relief, but with anxiousness to get out and he finally realized why as soon as he saw the wingtip protruding out of the bag that a mechanical demonbeast he didn't recognize, carried. He froze. The entire palace's guard population would be after them…

He untied the other wheelie bikes from his own and they mounted. As Customer Service got on behind him, he quickly introduced the new member to him,

"Steve, that's Hardy back there. He's a new recruit."

Duston got on to his own bike and Hardy and Walky got on another. Hardy fearfully looked off the ledge, gulping.

"Hey, uh, Boss? I don't know how to drive…"

"The bike does most of the work. The streets are organized into magnetic grids and the bike will found a route. Make sure your intentions of which direction you want to go are clear to the bike and you'll be fine."

"But Boss!" Walky exclaimed. "They're gunna' be shootin' at us! We don't have any ammo!"

"Trust me, they will not shoot until they know which one of us have the Prince. Once they do, that's when there will be gunfire. Now move out! Stay close together until we make it out of the palace's grounds!"

"Looks like there's no more time ta' wait! Here they come!"

Suddenly, the sky filled with the sounds of engines. They looked up to see a mass of guards, all on rex wheelie bikes. They scattered, just as the guards were upon them. Steve was about to drive ahead when Customer Service hissed in a low voice,

"We'll carry the rear. Make sure Hardy and Walky get out of here safely. They have the Prince."

Above them, Scipio clutched the handle of his bike tightly. He had never driven before and his fear was beginning to show. He pulled his helmet down further around his eyes and pressed his body against the bike. But at his side, one guard raised his gun and was about to fire when Scipio shouted,

"You idiot! Don't shoot until you findz ze one with ze Prince! You'll kill 'im!"

The rebels would attempt to escape out the front gates. Hah! Foolish idiots! The gates would be secured shut! No one was allowed into the palace or out under lockdown! But that was where Scipio was wrong. He looked up, staring at the open gates in shock. The same guard who had let Steve in was allowing another in, probably a service worker who got locked out of the palace.

"IDIOTZ!" Scipio screamed. "CLOZE ZE GATEZ!"

Fortune was ill for them. With the rebels ahead of them by a few meters, they could not block them off. They broke out of the palace's hold, and drove out into rush-hour traffic.

---

Monsieur Goan swallowed as the three guards pressed in on him. Talking in pure French seemed to halt their close questioning and even convince them enough that it was not worth the bother, but all he was doing now was babbling any word or phrase that came to mind while his eight hands danced around as he pointed this way and that. He even started reciting a French poem he once read somewhere, doing whatever he needed to keep them off of him and to keep himself from breaking down.

The small party that had tried to follow the rebels up the vent had long given up and instead set off to search the palace. It was just him and these guards… if only he could get rid of them.

He felt a tinge of confidence. They were getting bored with him. Maybe that meant they would report him to their captains as an innocent bystander when Customer Service and the others came through. However, one of them came up behind him and pressed the gun barrel to his head.

"Alright now, let me ask you this nice and slow, and you answer us in English: Where were the rebels heading?"

Monsieur Goan laughed, trying to indicate that perhaps that was an absurd question to ask someone who probably would not know the answer, but his voice cracked. They had been questioning him for a long while now and behind him, the contents in the skillet cooking on the stove were beginning to burn. He could almost imagine the bullet pointed at his skull. He prayed they would relent a little and allow him to put out the fire— but more importantly, allow him to get into an arm's reach away from his kitchen knife drawer.

He pointed at the cloud of smoke, coughing; but they kept him there. The same guard snarled again.

"Let's hear some English, cooky!"

"No, forget it. This is something for our squadron captain to deal with."

"Huh, then what are we supposed to do?" The last guard asked as he dipped a filthy finger into a bowl of custard and licked the sweet pudding off.

"Well, I hear you're an acclaimed chef and I haven't had a thing to eat all day. Hey, make us something, will ya'? Otherwise we'll shoot you dead."

They sniggered, drawing their guns out. As he backed away into the counter, one of them jabbed him in the back with a fork.

"Yeah. How about a nice pot roast soaking in its juices?"

"No, better. Steak. A good, bloody slab of steak. That's what I want…"

Monsieur Goan consciously felt for the knife drawer. He wondered how fast he needed to be to beat them grabbing their weapons when they already had their guns out. Or maybe he would slip the knives under his apron until he got the opportunity and take their guns and run for it. He brushed his hand against the handle of the drawer. So close…

The door slammed open, making them all jump, as a helmeted officer walked in. The three guards gave a stiff salute, but their captain was facing Monsieur Goan. He drew his pistol and pointed it at the chef.

"Arrest him. He's been working alongside the rebels and helped them escape. Lock him up at the E and we'll take care of the rest of them…"

---

Duston had pried loose a large, metal pole and was now whacking aside Imperial Guards as if playing a game of golf. He cracked the skull of one and splintered the spine of another quite merrily. Customer Service and Steve on their bike sped ahead as two guards managed to get past the raging trashcan demonbeast and chase after them. Customer Service kept looking behind them, biting his lip as he saw Scipio's scarred face.

They ducked under a stoplight and joined the traffic on the level above, barely cutting through two, close-driving trucks and over their top. Their pursuers were forced to drive around, which gained them an extra few meters. Duston suddenly appeared at their side, swirling back to take a swing at one of the guards. Customer Service turned back to Steve and said,

"Try to find where Walky and Hardy went."

The wheelie nearly hopped up on to a limousine and drove across its roof. The driver punched the car's horn. Eyes flew toward them and the cars that were moving crashed into each other to avoid them. One hit a traffic light and it came down. Steve curled the handle forward and the wheelie bike launched itself into the air. Behind them, they heard the big CLANG as a few of their pursuers struck the object, unable to stop their bikes.

But for the five other guards, their communicators suddenly buzzed and they could hear a gruff voice bark out,

"These other two have the Prince! Shoot the others!"

Hardy and Walky were having more difficulties than the other rebels and they shot past a corner shop, eight more bikes following in close pursuit. No matter where they turned, they could not shake the guards off them. And their pursuers realized it was them who had the Prince.

"Hey, Hardy, you betta' listen up. I'm gunna' drive up the parking lot stairwell. You're gunna' need ta' duck real fast, and then I'm gunna' drive us through that shoppin' mall. Might be the only way ta' get these creeps offa' us."

Not like he could have disagreed –Walky already was driving towards the parking lot. He gulped, then clutched the bike more tightly. Had Walky not warned him to duck, Hardy might not have seen the large sign before it hit him. His eye barely missed getting whacked by it, but the guards behind him got it full in the face. Walky leapt down on the other side of the handlebar and the bike slammed the department store doors open. Shoppers screamed as they drove through racks of clothing and sent shelves of shoes toppling down.

Then, the guards entered and collided into one another, blinded by the flying clothes. They wiped out, skidding across the ground and were lost among a mass of confusion. Hardy and Walky grinned, looking at each other. But they were not left completely unscathed: just as they took another turn, they ran into a perfume stand with both sprays and powder, which engulfed them in a mixture of multi-color dust.

A bullet had struck Steve on the arm and Customer Service was keeping his head low, gritting his teeth as another missile sailed above them. They had nothing to fight back with, it was run or get shot. He looked up ahead of them. The drivers in their cars were panicked, some causing road blocks as they tried to drive away. Scipio was not very far away now. Maybe if his bike had a seat slightly taller, he would have been able to touch their bike with a small stretch of the arm.

Steve suddenly slammed against the breaks and Customer Service was thrown against him. He gasped, glancing up to see a large oil truck that had been hit and had a broken light post collapsed over it. The post's wires were exposed, obviously frayed and already sending off sparks. Only one bullet was needed to strike it… and cause an explosion.

And that bullet came.

Scipio had fired the shot, missing Customer Service's head by an inch and it came over them, rotating as it went before it hit the control box. Flames erupted and Customer Service's head was thrown back.

Scipio looked up just as the man in the coat turned around and for a second, their gazes met. The lizard saw the glimpse of bright orange glasses before the explosion snatched up his wheelie and threw him off. Seconds after, both Customer Service and Steve were engulfed in the fiery clouds and they fell, left with scorch marks searing across their faces and bodies. Duston's bike turned at the last moment and the trashcan demonbeast was lost among the black smoke.

---

The medics that were attending the lizard general, some time later after they spotted him lying unconscious in a grocery store he had smashed through, were thrown violently off of him as he painfully sat up, giving a low hiss.

"Wat in ze name of ze emperor happened?" He gasped out dizzily before letting loose of volley of curses. "Ze stupid bike must haz threw me off."

He tore at the bandages when the doctors wrestled his arms down. A few of the shoppers watched as he hissed and growled, knocking over a shelf full of canned products in the process.

"Sir! You need immediate care!"

"Don't touch me…" He ordered. "Where are ze rebelz?"

"The rest of your squad went after them. Hold still."

Scipio growled as they tightened the bandages around his burned arms. Driving a motorbike had been more than traumatic; it was his first time, after all. He felt lightheaded, and not to mention, in deep pain; but it was all forgotten. He had been lying on his back… he could never do so because his tail was always in the way… but that meant…

"MY TAIL! WAT HAZ HAPPENZ TO IT?" He screamed, shaking his tail that now uselessly shook unattached to anything.

The medics watched him uncomfortably as he shouted loud enough for the entire store to hear in his panic. He tried standing up, but his entire sense of balance had been destroyed with the loss of his tail. No longer was there the extra weight that kept him upright and he toppled over.

"The amount of stress your body went through when you were caught in the explosion must have caused your tail to… erm… well, pop off…"

"POP OFF? MY TAIL!" He shrieked huskily.

"Sir! Please calm down! We think lizards can re-grow lost tails and it will come back eventually…"

Scipio gawked at the small stub under his armor— all that was left of his tail, which he took so much pride in to strengthen. He almost wanted to cry on the spot, but something restrained his emotions… because in his mind, he saw the flash of orange again. Those had been orange glasses…and there was only one person he knew that would wear that ridiculous color of glasses.

That salesman… that son of b****… you'll pay with all the blood I can strangle out of you… He thought to himself as he took out his phone and dialed.

---

There were no words to describe how awkward it was for two mechanical demonbeasts, blackened by soot and with exasperated looks on their faces to enter an exceedingly high-end apartment complex and walk through a crowded lobby with a suspicious black bag at their side; but no one stopped to question them, so Hardy and Walky disappeared as the elevator doors closed and rose up. The elevator music filled the silence —neither had the energy to talk— until with a small ring of a bell, the doors opened to their needed floor. They collapsed into Customer Service's apartment as soon as the salesman opened it for them

Hardy jadedly opened his eye and looked around the apartment in total awe, feeling a small tinge of embarrassment for how unkempt his own apartment was. Customer Service lived in a suite high above the top most street level and the apartment itself was large with a fantastic view of the city and the palace in the distance. They had entered the living room that had a high definition TV covering half of its wall and just about every other newer electronic to date. Customer Service and Steve were the only ones present and Hardy saw how badly the biker demonbeast had been hurt. He had a toolbox out on the coffee table in front of him and was screwing back his arm that hung loosely on frayed wires and was oiling his joints.

Customer Service returned to pressing an ice pack to the burns on his face and neck, but the light shifted on his glasses in a troubled manner. He shook his head solemnly.

"What a disaster… we almost couldn't get out of the palace back there and the streets are a complete wreck… Goan's probably under heavy questioning and Duston got separated from Steve and I. I'm just relieved that the rest of us are seemingly okay." He murmured before taking a glance at the black bag that was now squirming around on the floor. "…but it wasn't a complete failure either. We have the Prince."

Walky 's mouth dropped slightly as he looked for his friend before he sank against the wall, forgotten for the time being. The rest, however, were more keen on the bag that Hardy was busy untying. He pulled the sack off the half-dazed demonbeast prince; he had to hold his breath as he watched the child's canine-like teeth recede back into his mouth.

"Is… is that even normal? I mean, I've never seen teeth like that before and I've worked on teeth all my life!"

He suddenly could not help himself —he pried Meta-K02's mouth opened and rather anxiously examined the fangs more closely.

"This is amazing! Such developed teeth for a kid not even a month old! I wish I had my tools with me to get a better look at this…"

"He's a First Generation: all of them have fangs. That's how they were designed."

"But what for?"

"Answer the question yourself; what does the boy drink?"

Hardy fell silent as the images of the pools of blood that stained the tower room's floors. Quietly to himself, he thanked the heavens that he had never seen such a horror during his time studying dentistry. He was not sure whether or not he would have stayed in school after seeing what he did in that room.

Customer Service slowly lowered his arm and put the ice pack down, gazing towards the struggling Meta-K02 who looked back up at him with his shining, innocent eyes.

"What makes me wonder, though, is why the boy was locked up there in that room for so long without a word of where he was. The testing day went rather badly, but… do you suppose Lord Nightmare actually... forgot him there? Both of them disappeared shortly after and I suppose His Highness was being moody again… I can't believe it. The boy looks half-starved to death."

"Hmm, well, you could open up a vein for him to drink from," Hardy jokingly suggested, but was dismayed to find his remark deadened by the serious expression on the salesman's face.

"All of them are supposed to be fed right after they take their first step out of their birth cylinders… Nightmare must have been too anxious to get him to fight," He mused grimly, before looking at Hardy's horrified expression. "What's wrong?"

"D… did you just His Highness' name without his title?"

There was a long pause and Customer Service's face was unreadable. Firmly, he adjusted his glasses as he turned his attention back to him.

"Yes. From this day forth, now that I see my plans for the future beginning to work, I refuse to call Nightmare by the title he forces us all to call him. There will be no more monarchy… not with him as emperor, I mean. If only Goan was here, he could have gotten started rewriting the Prince's hard drive."

"W… what? R… rewrite it?" Hardy gasped, suddenly clutching Meta-K02. "He's only a poor boy!"

"To free our people, Hardy. Now give him to me."

Hardy stood up, holding the confused demonbeast prince tightly. Especially to a mechanical demonbeast, the statement was profoundly serious. Rewriting a hard drive meant that the demonbeast was malfunctioning, but often times enough, rewriting meant ending up in the trash heap. He felt his morals scream at him to disobey his new boss.

"No… I won't let you touch him until you tell me why you're rewriting his hard drive… I want to know everything!"

Surprisingly, Customer Service did not move to snatch the prince back or even to argue. He softened his voice, but something in his expression was the face of tiredness that Hardy could not comprehend. He exhaled with small sigh.

"Perhaps, Hardy, there is something you should… all of you, should know about me. Maybe I've kept my intentions a secret for too long. Maybe I should have told you all my visions for the future… I don't hate the kid, don't take me wrong about that. I felt it was wrong to do something such as rewriting an entire hard drive to a child. He is not my enemy. He is no one's enemy— it is Nightmare, that I have waged war upon. The Star Warriors may campaign their foolish little war against him, but they will never get anywhere. I have my own battles to fight. I don't think you understand just how enslaved our people are. I don't think you understand the reason why we fight. Hardy, do you know what would have happened to you had we not warned you to get our of your office yesterday?"

Hardy's ferocity fell with the final few words and he lingered on it, paralyzed by the question. He could feel it— the man that sat before him knew why he had been fired.

"Ah, I see you've made a connection. You were fired, not because you weren't good enough for your job. None of the people that the Imperial Police come for are fired because of that. It is for them to physically see you and examine your size and weight."

Hardy blinked.

"Wait… what?"

Customer Service turned to the corner where Walky quietly cried and cursed.

"Walky, tell Hardy about that day, will you? I think Hardy will understand better from someone who's had a similar story."

Hardy looked at Walky in surprise. The ex-pop star singer twitched a little. There was an outlet in the wall near him that he badly needed to recharge at, yet he had not moved to do so.

"Duston is fine. You know he is," Customer Service said, although with not much of a reassuring tone. "He probably didn't even get a dent after he was thrown off his bike."

They heard Walky sniff.

"T… they must h…'ve got 'im and… and took 'im… and…" The microphone demonbeast murmured through quiet sobs.

"He will rejoin us later as soon as he can. Next time we meet back at the bureau, we'll see him there. Meeting at my own apartment was not my idea, but it will have to do for now. Walky, please tell Hardy."

"I don't e'er wanna' think nothin' 'bout that day again…" Walky shivered. "You can't make me talk 'bout that day."

But after a minute of silence, he finally began talking, on his own.

"W… well… it wasn't that long ago and I… was makin' my next album, nothin' different… the recordin' director said he don't want me there no more and I asked him why the hell. He tol' me people don't wanna listen ta' my CDs no more and tol' me ta' leave the studio. I went outside and second later, them coppers surrounded me and said I was undah' arrest for a long list o' stuff. I couldn't even understand the charges and they took me to the E to this… this white room where all these people in white lab coats were lookin' over my body and askin' all these weird questions…"

Walky's story broke as he gave a shudder, letting loose another sob.

"And then they took me to the next room… this dark hall. Couldn't see nothin'; the only d*** thing I could hear was all the tortured screamin' from behind the black doors. They locked me inta' a cell for days and after I could start seein' a little better, I saw all the blood that seeped out from undah' the doors were the screamin' was comin' from and where it pooled around the drains. And I saw the mechanical demonbeasts that lay dead there too. One of them was in the cell I was locked in and all the wirin' had been torn outta' 'im. Scared the s*** outta' me. Finally, the let me out of the cell and they took me inta' another white room where they tried to disconnect my wirin' and stuff me inta' a cylinder-like thing. I broke out of their hands and I ran for it, man. Couldn't have run fastah than on that day. I hid inside of a little vent I found behind a canister until Boss found me and said I could help 'im stop others from going to that hell… probably would have agreed to have gone to an insanity asylum too if he had asked…"

He fell silent, trembling hard; but just as Customer Service was about to speak, the little microphone demonbeast seemed to consider something, then returned back to his life story

"A… and I came back t… to the studio later and… and… they replaced me with some new guy called Macho San… THEY REPLACED ME! The only song he ever even published was that 'Go Go Heaven Heaven' crap and every single person out there actually likes it! Why?"

His voice cracked and he collapsed to the floor in anguish.

"They've got ole' Dusty there and they're doing' the stuff they were doin' to the others!"

No one could do much as the ex-pop star singer curled up into a little ball and cried for all he was worth for his friend. Hardy looked up at Steve and saw he wasn't the only one badly shaken. Behind him, Customer Service had gently placed a hand on his arm.

"There used to be no E. The building where they carry out their operations used to belong to a mining corporation. Everything Walky spoke of it true enough. I have been there enough to confirm that because my job brings me there occasionally. I see that you're speechless. Do you not believe it, that what he was your own sealed fate had Goan not hacked into the system and found your file next on the list? Then let me ask you this—do you know what it is that I do for a job?

Meta-K02 greatly wanted to be put down on the floor and explore a bit on his own, but Hardy could not move his arms. The salesman's gaze held him where he stood. Something big was about to hit him.

"You… sell things. And you deal with customers?"

"Ah, yes, but what is it that I sell?"

Not a sound was to be heard. Even the little prince had stopped his struggling. Hardy stared ahead, his mechanical heart thumping loudly against his chest. Seeing that he had no answer, Customer Service answered it for him.

"Demonbeasts, Hardy, our own people plucked right off the streets to either be put into the army or to be sold to buyers thousands of light-years away. You are not free; you are an item in a catalog for anyone rich enough to buy and have you amuse him or her for a while. I too had lived perfectly content. I didn't know, Hardy. I didn't know. It was not until I left selling used cars and got the job that I have now that my eyes saw the monarchy for what it truly was and how everything is handled at the E. I was horrified, but I could say nothing or do nothing." He said, almost looking off into the distance. "There is a record for every demonbeast alive within the Enterprises. When they build the army, they run a systems check for any demonbeast that meets a certain weight and size standard, regardless of if they would even a be a good fighter or not. Everything is run by computers with an intellectual ability by far inferior to the average mechanical demonbeast, not actual workers; and so evidently, they ran a check and found your file and picked you out of the thousands of others in the heavy weight class."

"But… I can't be a soldier… I…"

"Exactly, most of the demonbeasts they pick end up being ill-suited for it, but they cannot know that until they physically see you. That is why they first have the employers fire him or her and then bring them to the E to examine them. Had they seen you, they would have realized that it was yet another mistake. But, they cannot take you back; otherwise you'd surely expose everything to the media. Their only other option is to sell you or recycle you. It's the policy at the E. No demonbeast is wasted. I-"

"Recycle me? What is that supposed to mean? Are they going to toss me into some melting pot to turn me into a can of pop?"

"For mechanical demonbeasts like yourself, yes. But for non-mechanical, they do differently. Do you recall that poor wolf-mother that Prince Meta-K02 pulled out from that shadowy mass? You witnessed the fate of those they cannot sell. Gruesome indeed, that was what was happening behind the doors Walky described. Recycling them… our race continues to serve Nightmare until the day we crumble to dust."

Hardy could not feel his mechanical heart beat, almost as if it had died in his chest. He slowly sank to the floor, all of his beliefs shattered. But from their ashes, a new question was raised and Hardy realized it was probably the last thing Customer Service had not explained yet.

"How does the boy come into this? Do you plan to ransom him?"

"Ransom? Hah, ransom. There is no sum of money in this universe that can match the price of the future I intend to make. Ransom… is that what you all think?"

No one moved to raise their hand or anything, but evidently enough from the silence, it was true and Hardy realized he was not the only one who had been left in the dark. Customer Service breathed out, accepting the truth with some reluctance.

"Perhaps I should have told you all earlier, maybe that would have made you realize how serious I was to get the Prince out from under Nightmare's watch. See him now, the boy is innocent and harmless, but Nightmare will surely corrupt him to become another warlord. That is the last thing our people need. However, if we could bring him on the people's side, he could free us and become our liberator. He will be the one to fight Nightmare. He will lead our people to freedom. Can't any of you see that? When I heard that he, Prince Meta-K02 was in his final stages of development, I almost cried, because I saw the future. I saw the day when Star Warriors and demonbeasts might walk alongside, hand in hand. I saw an end to the war. Under no account, Hardy, will I let go of that vision. It will happen!"

"So that was your solution, to rewrite his hard drive. But what if it kills him? You'll lose everything."

"I might lose everything either way. It is the only way, if it works, to ensure our future. Now, I've told you everything. Give me the boy."

"But he's innocent! He wasn't the one who made the E! You treat him like some kind of a tool! A puppet!"

"I would suggest, Hardy, that you do not allow your emotions to blind you. The boy's blood is in the direct line of Nightmare's. Right now, his soul might be innocent, but it won't take long for Nightmare to teach him to be merciless and evil. Perhaps Prince Meta-K02 would become even worse than the emperor himself."

"But what makes you think he's going to rescue everyone? How is he, this… this kid, going to overthrow Lord Nightmare?"

"I don't expect for him to stand against our lord as a young child… but maybe one day when he becomes a man."

"But rewriting his hard drive is not the solution! How many of you guys even agreed to this?"

"Before you joined our group, Hardy, we discussed this. I told that much about my plans. And we voted. The only one who stood against it was Goan, but the rest of us agreed to it."

Hardy stared at Steve and Walky, almost begging for them to tell him it was not true. Steve only shook his head and Walky stood up, shivering.

"Never again… there's no way I'm gunna' e'er go back there…"

Customer Service adjusted his glasses once more and he looked at Hardy, understand, but unmoved by his protests. Hardy had lost, he knew it; but he was ready to defy them.

"No… NO! It's wrong! All of you! All of you don't have any hearts!"

Hardy ran, taking Meta-K02 with him as he left the living room. He ran through Customer Service's bedroom and locked them both in the small bathroom. How unfair of them, to decide a little boy's fate without his own consent. Could he understand them? Did he know what they were planning to do to him? He put Meta-K02 down on the counter and watched the little prince look at his own reflection in the mirror, seeming to forget the tense conversation back in the living room. He pawed at the mirror, perplexed by his reflection and Hardy was left wordless. He admired children. There was no hate in their eyes, no prejudice, no anger.

He sighed, sitting down on the floor and holding his eye with his hands. He did not hear the others coming, maybe they decided he would eventually come out on his own and submit to them.

Just then, there was a loud clatter and Hardy gasped as he watched all of the little bottles roll out of the medicine cabinet that Meta-K02 had knocked into. He scooped the little prince up, about to say something when he caught a glimpse of something flat hidden in the back of the cabinet. He looked back at the door. He didn't want to be a snoop, but…

It was a stack of photos, he realized as he pulled them out, the more high-tech kind. Held flat, the images appeared in a holographic display and moved about. The first thing he saw was the image of Customer Service, not very different looking than how he appeared now, but definitely younger. Beside him was a dark haired woman holding his hands.

"Is he married?" Hardy wondered. "I don't recall ever seeing any woman with him though…"

The entire stack was of the two… or just the woman. She was not strikingly gorgeous, but her face and eyes were pretty in their own simple way. Hardy even saw Monsieur Goan in the back of some of the photos. It appeared that he and Customer Service had been friends for a long, long time…

But after paging through a few, there was no need to look at anymore. Hardy felt a knot form in his throat. Maybe he should not have viewed Customer Service as harshly as he did. For all he knew, the woman could have been his wife, possibly divorced or deceased.

Then, Hardy heard shouts, a crash. He almost ducked as guns shots sounded. He heard the sounds of a fight break out.

The police… how could they have found them?

Hardy opened the bathroom's window and gazed down at the dizzying drop. There was not a chance he could have possibly survived falling. The street level was too far down… and there were no fire escapes he could have walked on to. Trapped… the police had won in the end.

No… I'm just being a scaredy-cat… there's a ledge I could climb on to and possibly escape…

He looked over to the small ledge that lined the building… but it was only an inch wide… and he was by far too big for it.

"Halt! You're under arrest!" He heard the officers shout from the other room.

He did not have the time to wait. He had to face it: he did not have the guts. Even with his fate sealed between dropping to his death or being locked up at the E, he still did not have the guts to try and change it. He moved away from the window, but as he did so, Meta-K02 came up to its sill, gazing out to see what he had been looking at. When the door to the bathroom began shaking as the police hammered against it, Hardy backed up… straight into Meta-K02. He turned around, but it was too late, he had knocked the demonbeast prince out the window!

He stood there, horrified with what he had just done; but it was then that the door broke off its hinges and he heard several guns click.

"Put your hands up and follow us out."

Hardy closed his eye. Defeated… his arms moved up on their own and slowly, he followed the officers back into the main room.

They took him by his arms into the living room where all the rest of the rebels had been handcuffed and pushed to the wall. There, he too was fitted with a pair. Walky was too busy screaming and fighting with his captors to have done so, but Steve was casting a side-glance directly at him.

Where is the Prince?

The dentist demonbeast was lost in his own fears. He had just knocked the boy off to his death! But… the boy had wings… could he possibly have flown away to save himself?

Customer Service was knocked out cold and he hung limply from the officer's grasp, a small line of blood flowing from the side of his head and suddenly, all of Hardy's reassurances that they were unbeatable was gone. He felt his heart sink. He wondered how they would all be executed…

One officer, a mechanical demonbeast, entered the room from the bedroom, its body hovering in a rather quizzical manner.

"Sir. The boy cannot be found." It said in a static-like, computerized voice. "Shall I proceed to initiate another scan?"

"W…what? The boy isn't there? No… search again! He MUST be there!"

The robot obliged and left to do so, but in the meantime, the chief officer came over to Customer Service, shaking him hard.

"Where is the boy? Speak!"

There was no response and the officer fell into complete hysteria.

"What are you all standing around for?" He screamed at the other officers. "Search the apartment!"

They jumped upright and hurried to follow his order. But none of their findings were fruitful –they never would find the boy there. They tore through all the cabinets and closets and scattered all of Customer Service's belongings across the floor. The robot came back, announcing its news.

"The boy cannot be found. Shall I proceed to initiate another scan?"

The officer's face was white as a ghost's. His Adam's apple slowly climbed his throat.

"What are we going to report to the corporal? Hell, what is the corporal going to report to the general and what will Scipio report to Lord Nightmare? ALL of us are doomed."

"We'll blame the other squadron and say our only order was to capture the rebels, and we've done that much. Let's get out of here. There's no point in wasting any more time here."

"Men, move out. Light a fire and burn everything; we'll take our prize and leave. Scipio will definitely be eager to see that we captured their leader…"

---

The E's reception room was a peculiar white, empty room with absolutely nothing in it other than the desk that a mechanical demonbeast sat at, typing away with a bored expression. Its monotonous eyes looked up and then returned to its work. Each one of them were filed then shuffled into the next room where they were met by dozens of workers in white lab coats, all equipped with clipboards. They surrounded them as they were divided and examined in separate rooms. The scientists seemed keener on him than anyone else being the largest. They asked him if he had ever held a weapon before and whether he knew how to use one. They asked for his IQ level and if he had ever been under military training. He almost wondered if there was an end to all the questioning when the guards finally came for him and dragged him away. But, he quickly realized he would have taken the questioning any day, because as they neared the far door, Hardy began to hear the screams.

And it was not just screaming –the screams were ghastly and blood curling, tortured, like how Walky had described— and it was enough to alarm him. They opened the large, metal gate and Hardy looked straight into the dark abyss. And as quickly as it opened, it swallowed him up.

A faint red glow served as the only light and Hardy felt as if he perhaps was experiencing what 'suffocation' was. Under the sounds the screaming, he heard the gurgle of blood pooling around the drains.

Up ahead, he watched the others get thrown into a cell and he too was pushed in, the heavy metal door locking behind him.

Monsieur Goan was there, handcuffed, and holding his head tightly with his hands to block out the screaming. He had been there for a long time before any of them had. He sat forward, shaking Customer Service. He took his apron and wiped the blood off of the salesman's head

He shrunk! They watched in astonishment as his extra four arms disappeared out of sight and his entire body shortened. The empty handcuffs dropped to the floor before he resumed his usual form, stretching out his freed arms.

Monsieur Goan shook Customer Service harder, finally receiving a response. The salesman dizzily sat up, holding his head. He had not even opened his mouth to ask where they were when he became aware of the darkness and the screaming. He knew… they had lost.

Walky pressed himself into the corner, each second was reliving a traumatic nightmare. But he still found enough voice to speak.

"Hey, Boss…" He asked in a choking voice. "What's the big escape plan?"

Customer Service looked at him, unable to look away. But slowly, he closed his half-open mouth and shook his head. As he turned to bury himself against the corner of the cell, the rest stood dumbly. There was no more hope. They had nothing now.

Just then, the door opened and guards entered the cell, taking Customer Service and dragging him out. The cell was locked again, but almost a minute later, the same guards came back in to escort them all out. They brought them to the far end of the hall where they entered a large boiler room where the screams were somewhat drowned out by the sounds of engines.

Scipio was waiting for them there and he marched directly towards Customer Service, forcing the salesman's head back with his knife's blade pressed against his throat.

"Well, well, well… one of Lord Nightmare'z own employeez…" He hissed. "You surprize me… our lord trustz you so highly… guardz. Chain him betweenz zhose postz…"

Scipio sat down at the strangely located table and drank his coffee while he watched Customer Service wrestle the two guards at his own leisure. The salesman was no fighter —he was quickly defeated as the locks clicked. Scipio allowed a few moments more to finish his drink before he put the mug down and stood up. As he did so, however, his taped-on tail fell off and he stared at it for a long moment, quickly adjusting it back under his armor. Then, remembering more important things, he looked around, expecting one of his guards to be holding the young demonbeast prince but was dumbfounded that the little puffball was no where to be seen.

"Ze… ze Prince... where iz he?"

"Sir, we didn't find him in the apartment. We searched every room but we didn't see him."

"Impozzible. He MUST be zhere!"

"But Sir…"

Scipio turned towards Customer Service, growling.

"Where iz he? I will wringz your puny neck if you do not tellz me!"

Customer Service spat, smiling weakly.

"I will say nothing."

Scipio struck him across the face, anger burning in his eyes. Customer Service raised his head back up, still meeting his gaze through his now broken glasses.

"Oh? You thinkz I haz nothing that makez prisonerz talk?" Scipio asked challengingly. "You dare make fun of ze emperor?"

"I do."

"Tell me, what was it that made you so rebellious, hmm?"

"They took my fiancée… I went to go see and her and her entire apartment was ransacked and she was gone… she was taken to the E to be sold… her memory had been wiped clean and when they didn't get any buyer, they put her into storage with all the rest and I never found her… I searched for years, hoping to find her after selling one demonbeast after another… but each one I sold was replaced by another… I-"

He was cut off when Walky suddenly started to scream and shout at Scipio, kicking the guards feet and legs.

"What'd you guys do to Dusty?"

"Hah. Ze trashcan 'un? We took no chancez. We erazed all of hiz memoriez and put in our own specially designed chip. Guardz, bring in ze trashcan devil. I want zem to see…

A side door was opened and a large cart carrying Duston was wheeled in, but almost like a stone statue, he was not moving and his eyes were closed.

"Your friend don't know youz anymorez… he iz a servant now."

Walky pushed as hard as his small body could against the guards and he broke loose, running straight up to the silent Duston who stood motionlessly with his eyes closed. The microphone demonbeast looked up at the body of his old friend, afraid for the worse.

"D… Dusty?"

Scipio gave a small nod, issuing an order.

"Rize, servant."

Duston's eyes came open and the entire group took a step back, horrified as they saw his eyes were now blood red. Walky swallowed, daring to open his mouth.

"Dusty! Say something!"

"Your friend cannot talk; we took no chances with him… we erased everything that he knew. Go, show ze little 'un your power!"

Duston began walking, like an iron golem bidding its master's command. He wrenched free a pipe the size of a large tree and kept moving forwards, straight towards Walky.

"No… no… Dusty, ole' pal… it's… me…"

Duston swung the hammer and Walky was thrown aside like an old can. He cried out as he slammed against a wall with a powerful force, hard enough to . The microphone demonbeast looked down at the few screws that had been knocked out of him. The Imperial Police had gotten Duston and killed him, creating a monster from his empty body.

"He will sell very highz… zhere will be buyerz."

"Sir, what do you plan to do with the rest of them?"

"Eh… take ze mechanical onez. I don't see much point keeping zem around."

Then, a black shadow fell across them and Hardy, Walky, and Steve looked up at the looming magnet. The guards abandoned them, just as the magnetic force was turned on. The floor under them disappeared and they slammed into its underside, unable to move. The magnetic disk began to head for a large vat ringed with fire –a melting pot and all of them stared with horror.

Below the vat was a long conveyor belt holding molds to assorted machine parts, some the molds for a blender and others the molds for a car. A chute hung over the vat where metal trash fished out from the garbage was being disposed into, their metal filling the molds before the new parts were carried away.

"Boss…" Walky sobbed. "Heeeelllp meeee…"

"Why do youz scream and shout? Aren't you proud zat youz will be ze next generation'z dishwasherz and clothezwashing machinez?"

Hardy could feel the heat starting to melt him although they were still hanging above the flames. Recycled… he never imagined himself leaving the world is such a way.

The magnet was beginning to lower and Walky screamed harder. But then, Customer Service shouted,

"Stop! You'd be better off selling them than recycling them! All of them are highly skilled in their own occupations! They'll make Lord Nightmare profits!"

Scipio halted the magnet and he turned back to the salesman, giving a small smirk.

"Zat iz wat I thought… guardz, you may bring back ze mechanical 'uns."

All three of them were put back down on the floor and they collapsed as soon as the magnet's power was shut off. The guards surrounded them again.

"Disconnect zem," Scipio said tiredly.

The guards lunged out at them. Steve tried blocking the officers, but their hands found his connection cable and with a sharp tug, he collapsed to the ground, making a crackling sound. Walky was fiercely biting all fingers that got too close. A hand closed around his body and he did not have the time to pull himself free before his cable was pulled and he fell limp.

Hardy now stood by himself, using his large drill to keep them back. But one of the guards took out his gun and fired. The bullet snapped through his drill's wiring and it slowed to a stop, and all the guards were upon him at once. He thrashed about, punching them as hard as he could. A guard came up in front of him and he boxed the guard's face with his eye, striking him in the chin and throat before he was knocked over. He gasped as he landed on the floor.

They grabbed his wire and pulled. Hardy felt his eye snap fully open and blackness engulfed him. His sight disappeared, then his hearing, then his thoughts. Everything came to a sickening halt and he fell.

…zzzZZZTTTTttt…

Customer Service knew they had been saving his closest friend for last. Monsieur Goan did not look back at him as they held him there. Some of the guards that had left the room returned with a metal box that rattled and jumped in their grip. Scipio suddenly felt like showing-off, too proud that he and his men caught the rebels to not show their leader another new demonbeast model.

"Allow me to introduce a new product we haz added to ze catalogz, Devil Frog. And your friend may haz ze honorz to be ze first to try it!"

The guards opened the box and a small, green frog with yellow markings hopped out. Its small, beady eyes were bright red, but on its back, two small bat wings grew like an abnormal tumor. It looked up at Monsieur Goan, croaking… like a frog.

The chef took a step back, and the frog attacked. It leapt up on to his arm and he shook it off, backing up into the wall. The frog came hopping forward, jumping higher this time and on to his hat. Monsieur Goan leapt about, swatting at the creature.

Customer Service looked away, but Scipio forced him to watch with the blade of his knife at the back of his head. Monsieur Goan struggled, throwing himself against the wall repeatedly to try to shake the creature off of him. He fell to his hands, and the Devil Frog was absorbed into his back with only its small little wings remaining outside.

"Zat frog waz programmed to enter itz host'z body and follow commandz. It iz small, yes, but juz' think! A horde of zhese could turn Star Warriorz against zemselvez! Haha. Yes. Our technological advancementz are grand."

Customer Service sadly watched his old friend stand up, a blank expression on his face. His friend might have been taken, but his desires to destroy Nightmare only strengthened. Hate overwhelmed him. Nightmare probably laughed at his misery. His hatred only fed the dark emperor's power.

Suddenly, a guard ran into the room, stopping before Scipio and gasping for breath, giving a quick bow before he let out his news.

"Sir! Sir! I just got word that Lord Nightmare himself found the Prince! Both of them are in the throne room currently!"

"Wat? The Prince's been found!"

Almost all the guards gave off a sigh of relief at once, feeling their saved necks. Then, Scipio started to laugh. He grinned, staring down at Customer Service.

"Hah. Splendid! Maybe now I canz execute zis revolutionist without fearing my own death…"

"Sir, you cannot kill him."

"Wat? I cannot killz 'im? I demand you to tell me why!"

"Sir, Customer Service is by far Lord Nightmare's best salesman. He's the one who sells more than half of Lord Nightmare's products. He's by far more successful than the rest of the emperor's salesmen and if we were to kill him, he'd lose half the profits he makes. We cannot kill Customer Service or wipe his mind clean."

Scipio sat back, frustrated.

"Mm… but wat are we to do with youz?"

"Sir," One of the corporals said. "I'd highly suggest we take him to the new base and have him work in the fortress there. We can easily assign guards to monitor him."

"Youz hear zat, salezman? Youz luckier than your followerz… how about youz give uz one of your nice, big advertizing smilez?" Scipio growled as he pressed the knife blade to the salesman's throat. "We don't want any customerz to think differently, do we?"

"No, Sir," Customer Service said through clenched teeth, giving a very big, fake, salesman smile.

Scipio continued to stare hard into his eyes, a deep growl emitting from his throat.

"It'z not only youz guyz who are fighting for your livez –all of uz guardz and officerz had our life on ze line because of the mess you made for uz! Guardz! Sendz him away. I hope zis iz ze last I have to deal with him!"

"You haven't defeated me yet…" Customer Service hissed before the metal gates closed and the elevator lift disappeared into the darkness of the E.

---

Meta-K02 was falling, his little wings uselessly flapping at the air rushing past him. There was no power in them, maybe that was something he had to agree on with Dark Nebula to use them. The drivers in the cars lined up one after another in the traffic craned their heads to see what it was that was dropping like a sack of bricks from high above, but he was gone before they could blink. He slammed into a car hood, rolled off, and continued falling. Hot flashes of pain shot through his wings and he realized the impact had been hard enough to break their fragile frame.

Someone from a fancy limousine shouted something and several car horns blared. He held his head as he broke through a street sign. As if he had been falling through floors of a building, he sailed past the different street levels, each with its own traffic.

But Scipio had been right about Nightmare's sulk.

The emperor sat on his throne in his own dimension, staring out into the endless horizon of the distorted world he had created for himself to reside in. It now served to shut himself out from the rest of the world. He slowly raised a hand, conjuring up a mirror. Why was it, he who was king of hatred and envy, lord of despair and sadness, was so badly hurt by the same emotions he ruled over? The gems on his crown and necklace were dull, so were his eyes. His hands were cracked and the darkness from under his cape bled, creating small pools on his chessboard. How weak he was…

As he had with his very first demonbeast creation, he felt a touch of pride how closely related the little prince was to him… he had entire visions of the empire he could rule with the help of one more to accumulate more territory. He had given the boy the power to open up the Mirror World, which reminded him yet again he was dawdling in instructing the prince. He was to assist him stealing dreams and replacing them with nightmares! What a war he could start, a war all within the minds of the Star Warriors that fought against him. They would be helpless, and nothing could stop him!

But why had the boy done so poorly? Was Meta-K02 not powerful enough to be heir? Surely he must have been, to be the sole surviving experiment. But powerful or not, the boy had exposed something he had kept hidden from his creations since the building of the fortress. It was humiliating. The emperor's own heir, running around like a rabbit among wolves before he finally turned and began to fight back. Pathetic. WHY? He question was driving him mad.

His blood should have made him fearfully strong. He wondered if there had been something he had done wrong during the designing process. Impossible! He had been creating demonbeasts for hundreds of thousands of years!

Then, he heard Dark Nebula scream for him. Its tiny shriek of terror struck him like a solid wall, smashing through his depressed state. It was at that moment, when his all-knowing mind began to draw its connections with his surroundings that he suddenly saw Meta-K02 falling… somewhere in the city… why was he falling? Why was he outside of the palace?

Panic took hold and he stood up, trying to sense which direction the pitiful cry was coming from. His heir was in danger!

Nightmare concentrated on what little power he had left and took the form of a starry orb hovering above his chessboard. Another crackle of energy and he was flying through a portal he had opened out into the streets where he shot overhead towards the falling figure.

Meta-K02 looked below him, watching the hard metal platform come closer. Hitting it would kill him; he knew that. He clamped his eyes shut when he should have been just seconds to breaking apart against the wall. His body would have split open and his metal components would scatter, dyeing the platform a deep crimson red. But it never happened.

He opened his eyes and everything was frozen. He floated upside down and less than a meter above the sidewalk platform. Gazing around him, cars had been thrown aside, some with crushed drivers. He was lifted by his foot and turned right side-up. Dizzily, he looked up at Nightmare, who was breathing hard and almost shaking.

"L… let's go…" Was all the emperor said in a hoarse voice as his hand, which was so much larger than his, took Meta-K02's.

Meta-K02 was suddenly submerged within Nightmare's cape as the emperor wrapped both of them within its folds and as he flung it back open, they were no longer on the streets but in the throne room.

The emperor looked down at him again, now noticing his broken wings. He carefully fingered the breaks, sat down on his throne and summoned thread from plain air.

Meta-K02 buried his face into Nightmare's swaying cloak and lost himself among the stars in the fabric. He had long forgotten the anger in his creator's eyes and how he had turned him away. He could only think how terrified he had been falling.

Nightmare truly was a master at his trade. His fingers were precise and almost graceful as they wove the slender thread through the little demonbeast prince's wings, mending them without a trace of flaw. Meta-K02 tensed a little, finding himself crying. Regardless of the icy aura that encircled the only one he could ever consider to call 'father', he felt warmer… safer…

Nightmare gently ran his hand along the base of his wings, where most winged demonbeasts felt pleasure being stroked. This experiment, however miserably it had failed in his initial expectations… it was the only one, out of the hundreds of others that had survived. This puffball… it was all of his failures… his pain… his weaknesses… yet he was the equivalent of his child.

He would have to question his closest advisors later about what had happened; but now, he silently vowed that the boy would become his heir and never, would he let the little prince out of the sight of his all-seeing eye again…

X—X—X

Author Note: I promised myself I wouldn't look at the word count and let that stop me from writing what I needed to… but… I did. It's… a lot. There is no need to further comment on it. Maybe I should be relieved if there are still people who made it down to this bottom author note? Now, it's very likely some parts sound nicely put-together while others looked slapped-together. I'll admit it now; Customer Service's speech probably is the best-written part while the scenes at the E are not very good. That part was last to be finished and I was starting to get too anxious to care too much about it. But I had to scoot this story along a little bit. I promise you all: NEXT CHAPTER, META KNIGHT WILL BE OLDER AND THE CHAPTER WILL HAVE THE STUFF YOU'VE BEEN WAITING FOR. No more Anti-Loyalists. I got rid of them. The next time we will ever see them? In the anime, battling Kirby. This is one of the tie-ins to the show.

…does it strike any of you odd that Customer Service might actually hate his job? Look at what he does for a living: selling his OWN KIND to someone like Dedede. Sure, he has a great smile whenever he's trying to sell something to Dedede, but… aren't salesmen supposed to smile and be friendly to customers? I mean; they probably won't sell anything if they don't? Customer Service, I have a burning desire to actually give you a real NAME instead of just the title of your job! T_T

Sheesh. I spent the most time of all rewriting Customer Service's little speech for his plans for revolution. I found 14 different drafts hanging around my desk area… but it is the central focus of the chapter. I hope I still could satisfy the need for some action with the chase out in traffic.

Readers, this is me against all of you: This story is a prequel to the events of the anime. Notice how a lot of these 'jig saw puzzle pieces' haven't yet been fit together into what we see in the show. When this story is completely finished, catch me missing a loophole anywhere and you guys win; but, if I manage to explain every last detail, every last character and plot item that relates back into the anime, then I win. So say I totally forgot to bring in the GSA and the entire story went on without them. The idea is to match EVERYTHING back into the anime and help ensure I got everything I needed to include.

No prizes or anything, just the satisfaction that you proved some fangirl out there in the world, wrong.

Please review.