The Past

Clay shingles comprising the roofs of thickly packed buildings. These were the first thing Gates took notice of when he came to the main residential district of the city. Winter was well settled in, and snow poured from the sky with gentle consistency. The warmth created by the town's fires and residents caused the snow to melt, and so the streets were wet with slush.

In spite of the dim sky, it was the middle of the day, and the streets were packed with crowds of people going about their business. Most were humanoids and semi-humanoids with fur. All of various races that developed from semi-sentients, which further in the past, evolved from lesser mammals. There was the occasional wind or earth elemental as well.

Gates was like them. Being of a special, scarcely numbered breed of horses which had, about a hundred years ago, developed full sentience.

He followed the street. It wound downhill, flanked by tightly packed residential buildings. Most were run-down, and none were appealing to the eye. Many open flames could be seen coming out of lidless steel drums, all had at least three or four raggedly bundled up people gathered around them for warmth. Many had their bare feet raised to the flame, in an effort to warm them against the chilling snow and slush all about the streets. For most in this city, decent footwear was a barely affordable luxury.

It was like this all over the city. Yet in spite of this, it wasn't the worst town Gates had been to. He had seen worse, much worse.

Gates did not live in this city. He was here for business. That business involved assessing the local populace, in order to determine the liabilities of developing the surrounding land. Twenty years as head of the Van Duke conglomerate had taught him that there were always liabilities to coming in and building mines, new roads and the like. Usually from the local government. Sometimes they forbade any purchase or leasing of property within their domain. The more clever warlords let him come in, and set up shop. Then they imposed ludicrously high taxes, forcing his conglomerate to close shop in that area in order to cut their losses.

But sometimes he found a place where it was just safe enough. Where the populace learned to like his organization coming in and changing things. A place where the people were destitute, but not ignorant, and appreciated the paying work brought by mines and sawmills. And new roads that allowed tradesmen to come and do business, buying things the territory had in abundance, and selling things that couldn't be got locally. A place where the government, if there was any, was insignificant or reasonable enough not to wreck things.

Economics were Gates' business. And he was here on business. The business of evaluating an entire city's character.

It was something he could only do himself. He had a sixth sense for what the mindset was for the majority of a people; an eye for the public mind. All he needed to see was their eyes, their postures, and the circumstances surrounding them. He used visual evidence to look into their minds with an unbiased insight.

The city was located far north, almost to the frozen region but not quite. Still, the soil was hard and cold, summers were short and winters were brutal. There existed crops and livestock that could be raised on land such as this. But otherwise, the town was able to grow for no other reason than the land was worth so little, no warlord found it worth invading and pillaging.

But Gates knew this land had resources. All it required was an investment, of manpower and equipment, to develop it. East of the city was a field, in which oil sat upon the surface, it was easily possible there was much more under the ground. West of the city were hills, which geological survey showed were rich with iron ore.

As he surveyed the city, he knew it was worth coming to. This place would be worth the investment. The people here had common sense, and came here because they wanted refuge from the wars and squabbling happening all over the continent. If he built here, nobody would get in the way. Physically, the majority of adults looked fit enough to be hired for the development work; laying the foundations.

Gates rounded a corner. His hoofs immune to the cold street. The road ended its downhill turn, and junctioned into a straight, level road closer to the heart of the city. The change in district brought no change to the scenery. People were still dressed in rags, and gathered around the occasional fire.

He was done here for now. It was time to leave down, and return to his headquarters in the more temperate Fillmore region. Once out of the city, he could get on all fours and gallop there, making good time.

"What do you eat?"

The voice came from his left. It was that of a girl. Gates turned, and saw a small figure sitting on a wide, stood up piece of firewood. She was bundled in so many salvaged pieces of rag and cloth that he couldn't make out anything about her appearance. Her tone was too quiet, and everybody else on the street too far away for the question to be directed at anybody but him. Gates decided to answer, but first, being a polite horse, he lowered himself on all fours so his head would be closer to her height level. Then he backed and turned so they'd be face to face. "I am a herbivore, young lady, like my ancestors."

"You wouldn't eat meat?"

He smiled slightly to himself, waggling his horse head in indication of 'no'. "Even if I wanted to, I couldn't. I haven't the teeth nor the stomach."

"I see..."

"Why do you ask?" His nostrils flared open with an intake of breath. He had a reflex to smell new things and people. That included this frail little girl.

She lifted a finger and pointed across the street. Gates followed the direction with his head, and saw a barrel fire with five people gathered around it. Above the fire was a spit. Cooking on this spit was a small, roasted animal. Its skin was cooked; its fur, gone. It was certainly dead. Gates turned back to the girl. "Was that someone you knew?"

She nodded underneath her makeshift hood. "His name was Muffles. He was my friend. I came back here, where he normally lives, and found him..." She stopped speaking. He couldn't see her face, but knew it was strained. "Like that. You're a horse, but not a horse, because you walk on two legs and talk, so I was curious if you..."

Gates didn't know what to say to this child. The people who caught and killed her friend obviously did it because they were hungry. They weren't to blame. But still, it felt like it would be wrong to tell her that. It's not like anything he said would make her forget that she loved that creature; now dead and roasting over a fire.

"I know," she continued. "I know they're just hungry. It's not like Muffles was a real person. And he didn't really belong to me. It would be wrong to tell them they should just stay hungry..."

Gates was cut off from his train of thought. He seriously didn't expect her to say this.

She looked him in the eyes, her own visible through a slit in her head bundle. "But the question is still there, why were those people hungry to begin with?"

Gates stared at this girl, affixed by words he'd never imagined a child would say. It was obvious she was an orphan, and probably couldn't read. It was not likely she was just quoting something. They were her own words. "Could I... see your face, young lady? If you don't mind, that is."

"It's cold here, but okay." She reached up, carefully pulling the rags around her head in opposite directions. She let them fall on her shoulders. The revealed face didn't have any fur, her skin was raven black, and matte as stone, lacking in any glint. Her hair was a bold, blazing red.

Gates recognized her as a native Aitosian. It was strange seeing one north of the Aitos region. When the natives were driven from Aitos, they all made the decision to go south rather than north, as they were all very sensitive to cold. This small girl must have traveled alone, and didn't have the adult's sense of direction, thereby ending up here. Gates took a step forward, sniffing her again in earnest. "What is your name?"

She paused for a moment. Then, her lips parted to speak. "I'm Karas, my family name is Brimstone."

He looked into her eyes, and saw something that made his emotions bubble up to the surface. There was something there, that he couldn't deny and couldn't repress. "You are just the cutest little thing!" He exclaimed as his head extended to her face, and he licked her cheek with his big horse tongue.

This made her giggle and almost lean off the log she was sitting on. She quickly dried the wet spot with her makeshift mitten. "Okay, enough." She said, still giggling.

"How would you like to come to Fillmore with me?" His mind was made up. This fascinating little girl would become his understudy. They'd only just met, but Gates believed in capitalizing on all fortunate circumstances.

Her mood sobered, her eyes wide as beads. "What..?"

"Do you have family?" He knew the answer, but it was still polite to ask.

"No."

"Friends?"

She looked past him, at the animal roasting across the street. "Not anymore."

"Then there's nothing keeping you here."

She looked back at him. "That's really nice of you, but we've only just met. For all I know you might be a slaver or something, sweet-talking me into coming along."

This was a reasonable suspicion, thought Gates. But insightful as this girl was, she was still a child. He lifted his eyebrows. "It's warm in Fillmore, really warm."

Her face softened, and her eyes opened more as she took an excited inhale. "Really? It is?"

Gates walked away, turning on all fours to show he was going now. "Meet me at the south gate, in one hour, if you'd like to come."

In one hour's time, Gates left the city, and the small girl was riding atop his back. They were in the clear, away from the town and noise. Gates trotted gracefully along the road, carrying her through the snow-ridden fields. As they departed together, she asked, "What's your name?"

His head turned back to look at her directly. "I am the horse who runs the Van Duke conglomerate. My name, young lady, is Gates."

The Present

Fireproof... but not heat-proof. These were the words at the front of Finn's mind as he awoke. He pushed himself on his feet as he shook himself off from restless, tiring sleep spent inside his fireproof suit. He was extremely hot, and his body drenched in sweat. Glob was to be thanked, that he wasn't the type to notice his own body odor. He probably smelled terrible.

Finn the Human was inside Cinnamon Bun's tent, and was sleeping on the ground, as the dirt was softer than what fire elementals preferred to sleep on. Cinnamon Bun was gone.

Finn went outside, and found the sky to be brightened by the sun. But not by much, the Fire Kingdom sky was always choked by smog and ash clouds. He had been staying at the rebel camp for two nights, now. And the previous day he'd spent training and thinking about what to say to Cinnamon Bun. He wanted to join up with him, and help find Flame Princess. But figured he'd try and pitch it delicately to CB.

He had to relieve himself, and went through the camp looking for someplace private to do so. He made his way past the rows of laid out sleeping pads, and parked carts loaded with supplies and spare weapons. A lot of soldiers were still asleep, suggesting it was the early morning.

He reached the edge of the camp, which was right up to a sheer rock face. The camp was surrounded by these titanic stone mesas. He spotted Cinnamon Bun, with his easy to distinguish blue flame barrier, sitting on an elevated area of rock that was part of the rock face.

He looked down, at Finn. "It's alright, you can do your business here." He leveled his head to look back at the camp. "Lots of other guys do it here, it's no biggies."

Finn went over to the right, behind Cinnamon Bun's vantage point. He undid the fly on his suit, and worked it out to let the waterway open. He had something to say, and since evidently Cinnamon Bun wasn't uncomfortable with him relieving himself, he decided to go ahead and say it. "Hey, CB?"

"What is it?" He said calmly.

"About Flame Princess..."

"What about her?"

Was he leading him on? There was no way Cinnamon Bun wouldn't know what he was talking about. Finn took a deep breath, and decided to be blunt and honest. "Look, I want to help you save her, but..."

"But what?"

He zipped up his fly, all finished, and walked in front of his vantage point. "I'm not going to be uncool about it."

Half his face was scrunched. "Finn, I don't know what you're talking about."

"I mean that I'm not going to swoop in like a gallant, flawless hero and save her like it's a fairy book. That's not what I'm here to do."

There was a long, tense pause before Cinnamon Bun leaped off his vantage point, landed on his feet and walked him by. "Well that's a damn shame, Finn."

"Huh?" His face was locked on Cinnamon Bun, which caused him to turn around as he passed him.

"Come on, walk and talk."

Finn caught up to his side, walking in sync. "What do you mean, 'that's a shame'?"

"I mean..." He said as they reentered the outskirts of the rebel camp. "She needs somebody to do that, badly. In a darkened world like this, she could certainly do for a hero from the fairy books."

Finn was taken aback by this. "And.. do you think you could do those things, be those things?" Cinnamon Bun really was a completely different pastry than the one he knew from the Candy Kingdom.

He looked at Finn. "It doesn't matter, that's a moot question." He looked ahead. "I need to be; she, needs somebody to be." His face scrunched. "She thinks she needs to carry everything on her own. And I..."

"You want to help her, right? Carry some of her burden." That was what was on his own mind. So he asked in order to affirm it in Cinnamon Bun.

They walked a bit before he replied. "I.. want to prove her wrong. Prove that she can count on somebody other than herself. I don't care who it is, as long as she's proven wrong." He indicated his surroundings. "I seriously doubt my ability to accomplish this. This is all gripped by my fingernails."

"Well, I don't know about that, CB." Finn was trying to scratch the back of his head through his helmet. "We won that battle a couple days ago, and spirits seem high."

"Wrong, Finn, wrong." He was speaking low and fast. Tense, but composed. He pointed out to the camp in a random direction. "This is like if Nietzsche, and Tolstoy had a baby, and named it this, exact, situation. The enemy has everything. Whereas I'm stuck in the mountains, and morale is eroding a little bit more every day."

Finn had nothing to say to that. They walked in silence through the camp. It was a quiet morning, most were still asleep. Finn was the one to resume the conversation. "CB, whether we find her or not, whether you win this or not."

"We are going to rescue her. Don't you dare doubt it." He said in a sudden change in mood. "I may not be able to win this, but she most certainly can."

Finn stepped ahead and in front of him, stopping them both. "CB, I've decided that I'm in this for the long haul. And since you're the leader of this outfit, I'll take orders from you."

"Finn," He accepted their stop. "Are you... seriously, volunteering to join us full-time?"

He nodded.

"You'll follow orders?"

"Of course."

He closed his eyes, turning into himself to consider this. After a moment, he opened them again. "Alright, you're in. There's going to be a strategy meeting, in my tent at noon. Be there."

"You don't want to know why?"

"Why what?"

Finn was expecting him to ask, since he didn't, he brought it up himself. "Why I'm voluntarily signing on to this. I mean..." He indicated their surroundings, the rebel camp. "I'm not dumb, I know you guys are outnumbered, out-positioned, and hunted. I wouldn't be surprised if you were thinking about throwing in the towel."

He shook his head. "I'm not throwing in the towel."

Finn frowned at his bravado. "Do you have a plan?" The area his arm was cut off hadn't fully healed. Sometimes it began hurting. The idea of charging in without a plan made him very skeptical now.

He looked at Finn's missing arm. "I had thought losing your arm would at least make you a bit more moderate, Finn. When I saw it, I thought you wouldn't even consider joining us on the long run."

"You... never asked how I lost it."

"Of course not. It's none of my business..."

"CB, I am more moderate now, make no mistake. I'm a teenager, not a moron, but..." His eyes were shut.

"What is it, Finn?" He shifted the baldric holding his lance on his back to a more comfortable spot, patiently accepting a long term talk in the middle of the camp.

"CB, do you know about the Brimstone Empire?"

He shook his head. "No, I don't. Is that the name of some mining company somewhere?"

This surprised Finn, although he knew it should come as no surprise. It's not as though rebels have newspaper subscriptions. "CB, I don't have a soft way of putting this. The Candy Kingdom has been invaded, and taken over."

Cinnamon Bun didn't absorb this right away. "Finn, that's preposterous. Nobody in Ooo has the stones to mess with Princess Bubblegum, not even Her Highness."

"These people aren't from the Land of Ooo."

"You..." a brief pause. "You really aren't joking."

"I'm not."

"What..." he needed a second to take this in.

Finn was surprised he didn't lose his cool at this news. Cinnamon Bun had spent most of his life living in the Candy Kingdom.

"What has become of Princess Bubblegum?"

"She's alive, CB, and in hiding. Not even I know where."

Cinnamon Bun nodded. "Was it during this invasion of foreigners that you lost your..?"

"Yes, that's what I've been getting to. The reason I'm signing on to this." He met Cinnamon Bun in the eyes; what he meant to convey could only be done without words.

"I see, Finn. You need to be challenged. You need to become stronger, and you need it to happen fast."

Finn affirmed this with silence. Then spoke. "The guy who did it to me... I didn't stand a chance against him."

"I understand how you feel, Finn. And now I see what's causing this change in you."

Finn continued. "PB's palace was destroyed, and Marceline told me that the guy who cut off my arm was buried alive inside. He might be dead. And I would love to believe that's true. But a part of me... a part of me I've been listening to more and more, is telling me I know better."

"So... when you face him again..."

Finn nodded. "I want to be ready. I, need, to be ready. I barely escaped with my life last time."

Cinnamon Bun took a deep breath. "Alright, but in the meantime." He walked away. "Strategy meeting, my tent, twelve-hundred hours on the dot." He said lightly and easily.

Jake the Dog was slouched on a couch, watching television. He was inside of a deep hovel he'd dug out. It was located hundreds of miles southeast of the Candy Kingdom; well out of Brimstone's reach. His belly cut was stitched and healing nicely. While he was able to move his organs out of harm's way, his skin was nonetheless sliced open. Jake's powers allowed for changing his form and shape, but real damage had to recover naturally. Once, when poisoned, he was able to save himself by making his liver giant, and letting it perform its natural function in a much bigger capacity.

After dropping Finn at Marceline's, he found Lady Rainicorn, and told her about what happened. Together, they rounded up their kids and fled. Though they weren't able to find or contact their daughter, Jake Jr. They figured she could take care of herself.

A telecommunications lab, occupied by geeks nearby was constantly broadcasting analog video signals. The TV was adorned on its top with bunny-ear antennae. And the bottom of the screen was occupied by a live newsreel talking about the invasion up north. The show he was watching was a movie about a guy named Cortez. And the tribes of natives he looted and oppressed after landing on their shore.

Jake was watching intently, though for no particular reason other than that he didn't feel like going outside. The story was centering around the primitives; the way these characters dealt with the invasion of foreigners. Drama, revolving around their impending destruction. The invaders were small in number, but had far more advanced weapons than them. And for this reason, they didn't stand a chance in open combat.

He felt Lady Rainicorn rest her head and front arms on his head. He silently shifted his head up, minimally, to return her gesture.

She said something, in Korean. It was a long sentence, with no breaks.

"I've been thinkin' about that, yeah." Jake replied in English. "We'd need to get everyone behind it, though. That's gonna be a tricky thing."

She replied, still speaking Korean, though she understood English perfectly when she heard it. Her sentence finished.

"They haven't seen the things we've seen, Lady. They won't believe us 'till that empire comes all the way down here and beats on their door."

Her next sentence was much shorter.

"No, I'm not calling it quits." The TV was still on, and he was still watching it naturally. "I just need to taper off, you know? Rapid change ain't good for one's health."

She walked off, muttering something to herself. She exited the hovel, shutting the door behind her.

"Finn'll be fine." He replied to the empty air she left behind. "Marcy won't let him do anything crazy."

Cinnamon Bun was standing at the head of the rock table in his tent. Others at the table included Finn, and a bunch of hardened, muscular Fire Kingdom soldiers who had long since shed most of their cumbersome armor and equipped themselves with an exuberant amount of weapons. They truly looked like ragtag rebels.

"Alright," began Cinnamon Bun. "Everybody got here, good." He indicated Finn. "Everyone, this is Finn, otherwise known around the camp as the Tank Man. He's volunteered to join our cause, and is here at the table by my request."

They all turned and nodded his way. A couple of them said "hi," and one guy next to him shook his hand.

"Finn," Cinnamon Bun continued the introduction. "These men are veteran officers in Her Highness' Royal Army." He moved his hand along their faces, calling a bunch of names: "Blair, Bartholomew, Jefferson, Momie, Hammer, Ramses, Dennis, and Daniel." They each nodded as he called their names and browsed his hand over them. "I won't bother with their ranks, as rank isn't relevant right now."

"Hello everybody." Finn said naturally.

"Now, time to talk business." Said Cinnamon Bun. "As you should all be up to speed on, our primary objective is to-"

"Locate and rescue Flame Princess, right?" Finn said.

"Search and rescue, exactly correct Finn." Cinnamon Bun tapped the table. "Hammer, lay down the mid-south region map."

The elemental in question turned around and bent over. He picked up a granite slab from a rack of them on the ground, and then lay it on the table. It was a carved, 3-dimensional rendering of a region of the Fire Kingdom. In the center was a tall range of mountains. The tallest was a building, a fortress; the North Star.

Cinnamon Bun continued. "This is a map of the area surrounding the North Star. It's certain they're keeping Her Highness in its dungeons."

"What are the cells like?" Finn asked.

One of the officers looked at him. "They're just like the lamp above the throne room of the palace, only buried in stone where there's nothing to see. The only way to get out is if a lift is lowered for you."

"Just as well you know that, Finn." Said Cinnamon Bun. "Because you're going in there."

Finn, and every elemental in the tent looked straight at Cinnamon Bun.

Cinnamon met their gazes without any humor or irony. "Let me explain the plan. I want you all to keep patient, and your mouths shut until I'm finished." He indicated a spot of the mountains due south of the North Star. "I have Martin and his guys setting up a big pressure cannon here. The spot is well out of the range of their regular patrols." He lifted a finger up, and arced it toward the towering fortress. "We're gonna launch Finn the Human, out of this pressure cannon on a hang glider, since we don't have any gas lizards it'll have to be a glider, and he'll make his way..." He moved his finger to the tower of the North Star, protruding from the 3-dimensional granite map. "To the upper area of this. Once inside, he'll make his way, undetected, to the dungeons. And then he'll free Her Highness from her incarceration. Any questions?"

Finn raised his hand, along with three of the officers.

"What do you need to know, Finn?"

Finn lowered his hand. "Okay, say I get in there, and I free Flame Princess. How do we get out? What's our exit strategy?"

The other officers lowered their hands; they had the same question.

"The same way you came in." Replied Cinnamon Bun. "You'll land at a high spot, and have plenty of height to glide away on. The glider should support your weight, and that of Her Highness."

"Can't she just fly away once she's out of her cell?"

"Even if that weren't extremely high profile." Said Cinnamon Bun. "They're probably keeping her in a weakened state. I don't want to take any chances. While you're sneaking out..." He grabbed a big, folded black cloth from next to his bed. "I want you to wrap her in this fireproof tarp, so her glow doesn't give away your presence, in the sky or in the fortress.

Finn was trying to rub his forehead. "That's a lot of details..."

"Finn, I would normally only risk my self on a mission this dangerous. But I can't survive here without my flame shield, and it doesn't exactly do a good job concealing me against the night sky."

"We're doing it tonight?"

"Yes."

Finn was quiet, deep in thought. "I need to know a few more details."

"What do you need to know?"

"How tough are the guards at that place?"

"Crazy tough, and they don't mess around. You'll want to stealth it."

"And... how many?"

"That's another thing." Cinnamon Bun continued, as though still briefing them. "Me and the cavalry are going to ride all through the countryside and raise hell while you're in there. This will hopefully draw some of the garrison out, and draw their attention away from you." He lifted his finger back, and stood up straight. "Does anybody have any further questions?" Nobody had any. "Great! Tonight..." He slammed on the table. "Tonight we kick some brass!"

Jake Jr. Strolled out of the house, singing to herself. It was a quiet evening in the Candy Kingdom capital. The Brimstone occupation eventually led to a lift in martial law, followed by the institution of a civilian police force to replace the far more strict military in the role of policing the city.

"And that is..." She followed up her train of thought with spoken words. She stopped in the middle of the road, and clicked her tongue, giving a hand signal to a purple gum ball who was holing a big riot shield. "Just wonderful for business." She finished the thought as the gum ball got between her and the house and shielded them both from it.

Her phone vibrated, and she took it out with her right hand, and then she took out a handle with a switch in her other hand, holding them both at the same time. She pressed answer on the phone as she brought it up to her ear. "Talk to me. …That sounds like a wonderful and fortuitous development of circumstantial fortune, Miccs. I'll be right over." She pressed the switch in her other hand, and there was an ear-shattering explosion accompanied by an orange glow behind her on the other side of the riot shield. "...No, Miccs, I'm fine. ...I just blew up some pathetic idiot's house. …Because he owes me money, that's why. You have to make an example of things or nobody ever pays you back... 'Kay, I'll be there in ten. Goodbye." She hung up on the phone just as a distressed candy corn man ran up approaching the house, stopping right next to her.

He ran his fingers of both hands through his top head. "Oh my glob!" He wailed. "My house!" He turned to Jake Jr. "Did you do this!" He was hysteric.

"Don't act all surprised, Reginald. I told you this would happen."

"I-" The house was blazing, with fire coming out of every window.

"I told you," she cut him off. "When I loaned you the money, I clearly told you, in a language you could clearly understand, that if you didn't pay me back on time I'd blow up your flipping house." She turned to the gum ball with the shield. "Did I not say that to him?"

"You sure did say that, JJ" the gumball replied in a rough, simpleminded tone.

"I sure did!~" She turned back to Reginald.

The candy corn man was still huffing and wheezing from shock. "I... I didn't know you meant it literally! I thought you were just illustrating your point!"

"Oh, but I am illustrating my point. Illustrating it right now." She indicated the burning, collapsing building lighting up the street. "I'm illustrating my point really well, yes?"

"Whaa!" He gripped his head, on his knees, unable to deal with the stress.

Jake Junior walked up, and placed a hand on his shoulder. Seconds passed, as the mood dulled its sharp edge. "Reginald..."

"Wha-?"

"Reginald, the money you owe me?"

"I don't-"

"Reggy, Reggy," her voice was soft and rapid. "You gotta pay me what you owe."

"But-"

"No no no," her lower, quieter voice kept cutting him off. "It's now or never."

There was a long silence, and then Reginald took out his bill fold and handed her two hundred and fifty dollars."

She took it. It was precisely the amount she lent him, and way less than the value of the house she blew up. "And the interest?" She walked past him, along the street.

"That... that's all the money I have on me, JJ."

"What was that?" She turned around. "Reggy, you owe me ten percent interest. I don't give loans to people because they're my friends or anything, you know that right?"

"Ten percent; that's only twenty five dollars!"

"That you owe me. You have twenty five bucks, right?"

"..No, I don't. That's all the money I have, is the two fifty."

She took out another detonator, and pressed it. Reginald's car burst into flame.

"Whaa!" The candy corn man restarted his exclamation. "How! How am I gonna get to work without my car!"

"Well, you can get a bicycle." She dropped his two hundred and fifty dollars on the ground next to him. "Tell you what, there's a dealer in the market. Come there tomorrow and I'll cut you a deal on a fresh new bike: Twenty five dollars." She walked away. "You can have the two fifty back, I already collected collateral." The late evening was lit orange by the burning house and car as she and the gum ball walked away down the street.

The gum ball caught up to her side. "Uh, JJ..."

"I'm done with ya tonight." She said in answer.

"Alright then, cool." He went in a different direction.

Jake Junior advanced along the street alone. Eventually reaching the maze of alleyways, at the end of which was Miccs' garage. She'd never really been here before, and didn't know the layout.

Miccs Milkshake was aware of this, and came out from around one of the corners. She was covered with grease, and big sleep lines ringed around her eyes. She stopped up to Jake Junior, and abiding by unspoken language, they went into the alleys together.

Miccs was the first to talk: "So you're loan-sharking now? What's next for you?"

"It's not loan-sharking." Jake Junior corrected as they rounded the first curve of the alleyway. "I only loan money with expressly established collateral. A loan shark maims or kills you if you fail to pay him back. All I did was blow up his junk."

"Are you going to do that every time they pay you back late?"

"Well, I wish I could just foreclose or something. But I'd need a lawyer or some good muscle to make that work."

"Well," They rounded the last corner, coming to Miccs' garage. The big door was left open to let fresh air in, and the lights inside were still on, as she was only gone a minute. "I don't know much about lawyering, but this new thing might fit the muscle bit pretty well."

"What kind of robot is it? I mean, what's its programming?"

"I don't know, I haven't turned it on for real yet."

"You haven't?" Jake Junior said in surprise. "When did you finish repairing it?"

"About ten minutes ago, right before giving you the call."

They crossed into the garage, and the ground gave way to a makeshift floor made up of unlevel concrete solution that was poured from a bucket and then evened out by hand with a hoe. "So..." Said Jake Jr. "For all you know it could be a killbot that'll rip our heads off?"

They stopped around an object covered by a rugged tarp. "A part of me doubts that."

"And what part of you doubts that? The part that watches that... friendly, kind of sci-fi? What was that called again..?" She mockingly tapped her chin in thought. "Star-Flash-Mc-Doesn't Exist-Trooper-Saga?"

Miccs took the tarp off. It was Sir Rattleballs. He was shut down, and frozen still. A long weld went along the area he was broken in half. "The part of me what doubts it, is the part that recognizes Princess Bubblegum's work from a mile away, even if I were wearing glasses and staring through a dust storm."

Jake Junior's eyes betrayed a strong sense of surprise. "Is that what I think it is?"

"The Gumball Guardians' model two point-oh, and predecessor to the Banana Guard. This is a real, genuine gumball enforcer. No, JJ, you're not dreaming."

"Where..?"

"I found him in the landfill outside the city, where the Nugondos moved the rubble of PB's palace."

Jake Junior ran her finger along the weld, feeling it. "Okay, turn him on."

Miccs walked over to a tall generator near the side wall. She switched on a key, and then moved a lever up in sync with turning the start on the key. The small lever settled on the top spot as the diesel motor started in earnest idle. It was connected to a thick belt, which was connected an elaborate rig of belts and wheels in which the motor's power spun an abundant number of salvaged car alternators. Which in turn were wired into individual transformers, and lastly an industrial-sized battery the size of a truck.

She proceeded to pick up a set of jumper cables hooked to the industrial-sized battery. And proceeded to clap the black one to Rattleballs' stiff, unmoving arm, and then stuck the other into a slot on his back. It tried to spark before fastening snugly on.

From the surge of power, the machine awoke. "I grant you, the gift of life!" Miccs recited excitedly.

Flame King was awoken from his usual routine of secretly napping on the throne in the afternoon. What did the waking was a loud commotion outside the throne room.

He heard fighting; battle.

He swiftly got on his feet, shaking the grog from his nap as heavy booming sounds could be heard in abundance.

He concluded it had to be the rebels. There was no way the Brimstone force could have come this far south so shortly. That's it, he thought. The rebels were launching a desperation attack with pilfered artillery. Flame King moved briskly toward the door of the throne hall, intending to get a report from the guard commander, and then a handle on the situation.

But as he approached the door, he saw it vibrate violently. The stone around its hinges began to crack.

Flame King immediately turned around and ran back up to the top of the throne's podium. The attackers had already breached to this hall, and he would greet them properly, he told himself.

With a resonant clang, the large door broke completely off its mount, and fell down into the throne room.

The dust behind cleared a bit, and what was revealed was a single figure, alone. To Flame King, it looked a lot like the grassland prince who came and took his daughter away not long ago, only a bit bigger. As the figure approached, more of the dust cleared, and he saw that it wasn't that guy. He looked similar; the same species, but his skin was much darker, to a level that could be safely described as brown. And his hair was visible, raven black, and combed back behind his shoulders. A caddy of swords and a stocky gun were strapped to his lower and upper back by baldrics. He didn't have a flame shield, which puzzled Flame king. How could any outsider survive here without one?

The dark human stopped at the edge of the toppled door. Without a word, he took out a tin can, and opened it with a release of small pressure from inside its previously airtight form.

Flame King realized that this person was alone. "Who dares intrude-"

The human cut him short with a raised finger, as he brought the can up to his mouth and gulped it. The gulping continued, hard swallow after hard swallow after yet more hard swallows. Until the can was completely empty and made crinkling sounds. Finished with it, he tossed it aside without a care, and then spoke: "You're not the flame frilly..."

Flame King realized he was talking about Flame Princess. "How is it you-"

"No no, hold on, let me figure it out." He cut him off again. "You don't look like a delegated minister, so not that. Your voice is too pompous to be her bodyguard. The fact you were just napping while I was making everything go to hell outside means you can't be an officer, at least not a good one."

"You are trying my-" His bellowing voice was cut off again.

"I'm afraid that I'm all out of possibilities! And to paraphrase a very smart man:" He raised a finger again. "If all other possibilities have been ruled out, then whatever remains, however unlikely, must be the truth: You're keeping the chair warm while she's away, literally, just keeping it toasty with your toasty bum bum."

Flame King felt disrespected, he didn't like that one bit. "Why, you..." His voice was growling.

"Or, you do it with your flatulence!"

"Impudent..."

"Do you people even have flatulence? I hope that doesn't sound racist; I'm just not clear on how-"

"Peon!" He bellowed. His flames fired up, and became rapid. "I will smush you like a bug." As he fired up, he advanced down the steps. He was much bigger than the mouthy human, and towered over him with an imposing stature. The human's metal swords and lead bullets would have no effect on his body of fire.

The smaller man frowned. "You, sir, are doing..."

Another thundering step.

"Exactly..."

The next thundering step.

"What every poor devil, in this entire Land of Ooo has tried against me..." When Flame King got close, he drew his gun, and pulled the front trigger, discharging all six barrels at Flame King's face.

And it was not lead, but dirt; sediment that was propelled into him. He fell back on the steps of the red throne, suddenly in immense pain. Dirt was unbearable for a fire elemental, as their bodies weren't quite hot enough to melt it, it stayed put in their system, clogging it up in random places. The only easy way to get it out was to bathe in magma.

Flame King rubbed his eyes clean so he could see. Groaning from the pain. When he could finally see, he saw the dark human was standing right up to him, extending a hand.

Craw lifted his eyebrows. "Look, I'm finished cracking humor, and you're finished acting like a pompous child. We can talk normally now, yes?"

Sophisticated... He took his hand, and let him help him up. "You're a lot different from the other human."

"Different as a bird is different from a fish. You may call me Craw."

"You know the other human, then?"

Craw backed up, giving Flame King some space. "Does dirt... kill you people."

"No. It weakens us, and makes life a living hell, but we'd have to be buried in the stuff for it to kill us."

"That's good to hear, because I pumped it into every guard I passed on the way here."

"They'll be fine." He turned, and calmly went back up the steps. "More importantly, what's your purpose here? Why are you looking for my daughter?" He decided to keep his thoughts to himself. He might be able to use this man.

"I'm looking for an item in her possession: The Sky Crystal."

Flame King turned back around, now at the top of the throne's podium. "Never heard of it."

"She would have returned to this kingdom with it, about a week and a half ago."

"Still nothing."

"It looks into people's minds."

Mory's crystal. Flame King became intent. "That, rings bells. I know who has it, and it's not my daughter."

"Who, then?"

Flame King lifted a finger. "That information comes at a price." He had him now, this was good, this was his opportunity. The thing that would make everything go his way.

Craw took a breath. "What?"

"I want your army to leave this kingdom." He knew this man to be the commander of that Brimstone force. Descriptions from his informants described him as 'black, fleshy and long hair; behaves like an arse'. The person before him was exactly that.

"That's a deal," Craw answered. "If I have the crystal, then I've no reason to remain here."

"How did you know my daughter had it?"

"I let her walk away with it. But that was before I knew there was gonna be a war. Now there is, and that crystal stands to end it a lot sooner than otherwise. For that reason I'll sully mine honor, and take it by force if necessary. Now," he clapped his hands. "I have one more condition to add on my end."

"What?"

"I'm an officer of an empire, and that means I need to give a crap about... empire stuff. The thing with the Sky Crystal is a personal project."

"What do you want?"

He calmed, and rid emotion from his demeanor. He suddenly looked composed, almost mature. "That you allow me, and/or any representative of my choosing full and unrestricted access to your royal archives, as well as any information source, location, and site located in your kingdom."

Flame King imagined all the ancient texts, and buildings and landmarks of the Fire Kingdom, all held sacred by his culture. And he imagined some foreigner coming along, and doing as they pleased with them. This imagery provoked immense anger, in a very deep place. "You're asking for a lot, human."

Craw remained composed, focused and humorless. "It's the best peace treaty you're going to get, with the Brimstone Empire."

He let out a brief chuckle. "So now you're offering a lasting peace?"

"Yes I am." He inhaled. "I'm a very violent, and in battle sadistic person. But I've recently come to the distressing realization that I don't enjoy killing; I'd like to avoid it if possible. We need to be able to search your land freely, because we have to find a thing called the Floodgate."

Flame King shook his head. "I am familiar with our lore, and can vouch that there's nothing called a Floodgate anywhere in it."

"It has a bunch of different names, Floodgate is just the most common. If the empire can search your kingdom as it pleases, we won't have to conquer you."

"And a lowly warrior like yourself can just declare for your nation? Just like that?"

"Mr. Flame King, do you know what my rank is? In the Brimstone Military?"

He shook his head. "Of course not."

"Well, I'll never, ever, say it out loud, because it sounds gaudy as all bells, but it's probably the highest that exists. Plus I was named an ambassador to Ooo. So there's no doubt that I have signing powers."

Flame King found this human just as unbelievable as the last one. This was fitting perfectly in with his plans. "Alright, you have a deal, however, this land is currently in a state of upheaval."

"What are you getting at?"

He walked back down the steps, and pointed at Craw. "You, help me bring stability to this kingdom, and you will leave with a signed treaty of peace, and the Sky Crystal." When he got close, his pointed finger became an open hand. "Do we have an accord?"

Craw took his hand, unharmed by the fire it was comprised of. "We're both compromising here, you know."

"I know. I have to let you see and examine things sacred to my self and people. And you have to take orders from me, for a while, at least."

Craw smiled at this. "I thought I'd have to explain that to you." Their hands let go. "If either of us had lied to the other, it would have ruined the whole thing."

He grunted in affirmation. "It was when I was a child, that I learned it's only romanticists who expect more than there really is in something. I learned that such people are too weak to deal with the real world."

Craw turned away on his feet, trailing off in a halfhearted pacing pattern. "If I had never met Karas, I would agree with that, a hundred percent." He put his top teeth over his lower lip. "I said basically that same thing to her once, and she corrected me. With an argument that made real sense."

Flame King understood his mood, then suddenly didn't. He was intrigued. "What is that argument?"

"That romanticists..."

Flame Princess' feet were inside holes in the glass. She was almost vertically hanging from it, and her heated hand was digging the next notch she needed. She had to heat up her hand, and also use every movement fiber in her weakened body to stay in place as well as push into the glass.

Her eyes were wet from agony. She wanted to just let go, let the pain end, and just sit in the bottom of her cell.

Her movement fibers gave out involuntarily, and she fell back into the floor. Then the heat of her hand redistributed through her being. The withdrawal from her altered state made her cry out loud with a raised, yet sobbing voice from the agony. She curled up into a ball laying on her side, wrapping her arms around her knees.

A piece of coal fell on the upward side of her face.

The pain died down to a bearable level, and she took the piece of coal off her head and in hand. She looked at it, not eating it. Anger welled up again in her mind. Throughout her incarceration, she had bouts of uncontrolled rage at her situation; at those responsible. In this angry mindset, she imagined doing things to these people, things that she'd never before imagined herself doing.

Then more time passed, in this unchanging, static cell. She calmed, shut her eyes, and breathed normally again.

Flame Princess sat up, the piece of coal still in hand. Her touch heated it, causing it to temper at those spots. She put it in her mouth, and swallowed it whole. She felt it burn up inside her, filling her with energy. Her nostrils exhaled a lot of uncomfortable smoke. Coal was a cheap food, abundant in the Fire Kingdom but disliked by most; perfect for feeding prisoners. Yet in spite of this image as a disgusting last resort, it was rich with energy.

She'd actually warmed up to the repulsively pollutant sediment. The energy it gave her reminded her of what it was like to be in the open and free. When she could burn more, and more, and more yet. Where if she was angry she could let loose and become a giant flame.

The coal was not enough. She wanted to consume an entire mountain of it. Achieve an even greater, and greater yet sensation of intaking energy.

Flame Princess looked up the shaft. She had to get out. Had to fix everything, had to make change from this; this state of simply breathing and existing. She had to live. That need was a part of her, and only death could separate it.

The sun had set, and Finn was inside the pressure cannon. Above him was a mechanism that would unfurl into a glider. Strapped around his shoulder was a diagonal belt with six impact bombs strapped to it. Before heading out to the cannon, he visited the armory at the camp and asked for some.

"You ready?" Somebody's voice muffled through the stone barrel.

Finn banged on it twice in reply.

He got no reply. And everything remained still; remained quiet. It was many agonizingly tense seconds.

And then he was violently propelled out of the barrel, shot into the night sky with a force and velocity that made his blood heavy.

The glider unfolded in the dark and peaceful sky, locking into place and keeping him airborne. The North Star was lit against the black and bleak horizon. And the land below was a blend of blackened rock and glowing bodies of lava. Cast over by moving clouds of smoke. He saw a concentration of orange glowing dots heading to a flatland area northeast of the North Star. It was Cinnamon Bun and the cavalry, heading there to cause the diversion.

By the power of science, and the drive of a child hoping to benefit from it, Rattleballs was given new life.

Jake came out of his hovel. He'd hoped for a few more days of the normal life he had loved, which seemed to be slipping away.

And he got them. Now it was time to go into kicking brass mode.

"Romanticists..." Craw trailed off, looking off to the side of the red throne hall. "She said, that they were the people who didn't accept the world, because they had standards which did not allow them to accept such a mess; such a clumsy, ineffective and nearsighted machination that men like us call the 'real world.'

"Is makes all the sense in the world, when you think about it." He continued. "Romanticists, they're not weak. In reality, they are the strongest people in the world."