The Wrecker

by SpongeGuy

10 Years Before Amphibia... A Frog Learns There's Still Hope... An Amphibia Prequel... (The Final Chapter is out! Epilogue coming soon!)

3. All The World's A Stage

(Can I Feed Him? – Ludwig Goransson – The Mandalorian)

A bandage masked Annie's wound on her palm, the white tissue still revealing a red dot square in the middle that stung a little bit whenever Annie touched anything. She squirmed a little in her seat on the borrowed snail she and Wrecker had taken to arrive at Swamp City, which caused Wrecker to look back in worry, guilt laced across his face, that seemed to sag a bit for some reason.

Annie hated to trouble Wrecker with something as needles as worrying about her, so she smiled reassuringly. It didn't really hurt, and it definitely didn't hurt as much as those sad eyes of his. "It's not your fault I'm bad at dummy moves with a sword."

"But it's my fault you got hurt from it.", Wrecker replied, and Annie frowned from the self deprecating statement.

"Well, we still need to train, I want to protect myself from all these crazy threats out there!", Annie said, a little loudly. She was NOT going to just sit there and get hurt next time! She wanted to protect herself (and while she didn't tell Wrecker since she KNEW he would deny her that pleasure, she would also defend him next time).

Wrecker smiled and ruffled her hair, earning a small smile. "I know, but let's go easy for a while. You're better than you think you are, you just gotta work on the dummy tricks."

It had only been a day since they had fished together, but they had somehow gotten even closer, it seemed. Wrecker's love for her only grew from every small moment, be it a smile, a snore or a soliloquie that never seemed to end about her interests. He had never realized how much one frog could live for another, but there were instances, flashes of hope where Wrecker almost wondered…

If perhaps he wanted to live, just so he could see that smile.

And Annie had grown very fond of her protector: snuggling up to him at night, listening to his brief anecdotes when he felt like relating to past experiences, and seeing his proud smile when they'd sword train or when she'd show her knowledge of a particular subject.

In fact, their most recent subject had arisen again as Annie leaned back a bit to gaze at the clouds, the only colorful feature of their currently sandy and dirty landscape and Wrecker patted their snails head, talking to it as if it was an old friend. "I never would have thought that watching "The Terrible Train Thief Tritonio" would help me stop from… Dying and stuff."

Wrecker chuckled warmly and wagged a finger at her. "Annie, you'll find that the theatre is a lot more educational than one thinks! Why, I should know! I was an actor myself!"

Now THIS was a surprise. Annie's eyes went wide and buggy as she swallowed a fly without even looking and gasped. "YOU were an actor?"

Wrecker replied with some friendly banter as he looked out with a little worry into the distance. "Try not to be too shocked." Swamp City would be coming soon. He would have to be extra careful, or Annie could be in trouble.

Oh, and there WAS the little matter of him being hated there.

Annie was quick to explain herself. "Oh, no, not like that T.W! I just didn't take you for the acting type! You seem more like the kind of guy who spent all his life in the army! No offense.", she added, worried about insulting Wrecker.

"None taken, Annie. I've played many roles. Sometimes I too forget which ones I've had.", he said, a tone of melancholy in his words. He had played all the roles, but one. The one he wanted.

"And the one role I want… I can never get.", he admitted, pain in his voice.

And he didn't deserve even an audition. He knew that, he accepted that…

But it didn't make it hurt any less.

Stopping the snail for a moment, thoughts of his past once again confronting him at Swamp City, thoughts of what he could have been clashing with what he was, Wrecker needed a moment to breath.

"Annie… Sorry, but can you give me a minute?", He hated to inconvenience her, but a million voices were running in his head, and it was a chore to even breath.

Why… Why was he still breathing? For Annie, sure…

But that didn't make up for all the air he had wasted.

Annie stepped off obediently, worried, but she turned around to give him privacy, not knowing that Wrecker was doing something unexpected.

Looking from side to side, Wrecker reached toward his head…

And pulled it off.

Free for the first time in 30 years, Wrecker's real face stared out to the distance. It was pained, it was old, it was worn and tired and hurt.

It was the face he was born with, but not the one he had any right to bare.

"I'm sorry…", he whispered to whoever was up there once more, despite knowing it wouldn't be enough. "I promise, I won't lollygag for long. I'll make up for my time here. I'll go soon, I swear."

Wrecker really hoped it would be enough. After all, if his death didn't fix everything, what would?

He felt his face one last time…

Before putting on the mask.

"…You can come back now."

Annie had tried not to look, but she still caught a peak, and was very surprised to see what she saw.

As she got back on, she cautiously asked "…I didn't see it… But why do you wear a mask?"

Wrecker wasn't angry. Far from it: She deserved to know what a failure he was. "My real face is what you see before you. I am The Wrecker, and it's too late for me to ever go back. I will protect you with my life, my little one… But I can never be more than that."

Annie took this in, but as ever, she offered a ray of sunshine to his dreary heart. "Well… I believe you can be a lot more than that."

Wrecker looked up to the heavens. Why had he been blessed with this angel? Why him?

(Nordic Folk Music Viking Clan – Brandon Fiechter)

Finally, the snail drew nearer and nearer till Wrecker and Annie were there: Swamp City.

Swamp City was the strange bastard child of Amphibia, simultaneously a rundown desert town and an ice cold misty fishing village that either froze you or burned you to death. It didn't fit together at all, but perhaps that was the point; Swamp City was chaos incarnate, and it would shove that message down your throat and slice you into ribbons if it could.

And it surely could: The houses, actual ship wrecks from the days of yore of piracy and frog Vikings, were now inhabited by gangs of thieves and bandits, embarking each other's houses like their ancestors and sword fighting to the death, carrying treasure back home until someone else would steal it from them, and so on and so forth. On the ground, merchant carts and dead body carts went back and forth, bringing in goods and taking out carcasses, and bonfires and mud swamps warmed and cooled the hard as steel bones of these insect shell wearing mauradors. Arrows flew back and forth above them in the sky, like constantly migrating flocks of sparrows, and pike fences showed off the heads of all those who weren't strong enough to survive.

"It got worse.", Wrecker muttered, and his heart began pounding in fright. HOW would Annie survive this?

Annie, however, was sort of awe struck. "DUDE, this place looks BADASS!". She could REALLY show off her sword skills here!

Turning to her with the most serious and alarmed expression, Wrecker shut that desire off. "Annie, I'm serious: We CANNOT let them know I'm here."

While Wrecker instructed the snail to return home and pulled Annie along by her hand, Annie was confused by a slip in his statement: "They can't know you're here?"

(Dragon Battle – John Powell – How To Train Your Dragon )

Wrecker had an "OH SHIT" expression as the two began to embark a merchant's cart, a little thanks to the confession, but mostly thanks to the fireball that had hit the cart and set it aflame, forcing him and Annie to run back.

"Back, back!", he told her, and she complied, but she was still curious.

"Wait, do they want to kill you here?", Annie asked, a little oblivious.

"Yes, they do, can you blame them?", he instructed with a stage whisper, and they backed off as the merchant who owned the cart, a young lad by the name of Peter Pimples, began to react to the disaster that had occurred.

"No no no! This is bad, this is bad, what do I do? I can't, I can't just lose all my stock!", he panicked, and he tried to spit the fire out, but his tongue got stuck in the inferno and…

"AAAAAAAAAAAAA!"

Wrecker got startled by the scream and slipped on the sandy marsh land, hitting the ground with a thud, which alerted a berserking warrior who had just finished gathering some booty.

"Oi, ye okay?", the ginger bearded and braided wall of a frog approached the two, spiked helmet and beetle shell jacketed, wielding beehive nunchucks. "Wean one! Yer numpty's fallen on his bahookie!"

"…What?", Annie asked, confused by the lingo, and because of this she backed off onto a fishmonger's stand, falling into the pile of fish. "Eww…", she cried, and the fishmonger, silver like his fish and about as tall as a tree, lifted her with his pinkie, his red and black doublet, striped bandana and termite nest tri cornered hat selling his pirate identity quite well.

"Ahoy, Bucko!", he called the warrior, waving his bee stinger hook hand in the air, terrifying Annie. "Help a matey belay this lad down or I'll crush yer barnacles!", was his oddly friendly sounding greeting.

"Ah dinnae ken, man! Besides, she surely adds flavor! Let the totie rest her tootsies!"

Annie was worried about how she didn't get any of that, but she wasn't taking chances, so she leapt out just as Wrecker was finally standing upright, and he grabbed her immediately and ordered "We. Go. Now!"

But unfortunately, Peter Pimples had just released his tongue, and seeing the frog next to his cart, took the one item that wasn't burning and pitched it to him, desperate for some business.

"Hold on, good sir! While you escape for your life, would you not like a nice book to read while you do?"

"DO I LOOK LIKE I'M IN A BUYING MOOD?", Wrecker shouted, as "The Perilous Parole of Pibbles Paboobles" was shoved into his hands.

"…Yes?", Peter asked, and Annie wondered why that voice sounded so familiar, but there was no time for that, since the pirate and the warrior now recognized Wrecker.

"…SOUND THE ALARM!", they screamed, and a bell ding donged ominiously, causing everyone and everything to stop, and look with dread towards the inner city square.

Annie, the only one not aware of what was to befall them, turned to Wrecker and asked. "Did everyone freeze? Is it the cold? GASP! AM I GONNA FREEZE?"

"Annie, run, just run and don't look back!", Wrecker shouted, fear and tears in his eyes, but it was too late.

Maniacal, insane laughter roared and echoed down the streets and the whirring of ladybug wings send carts and stands flying ("At dis ma nut in!"), as the winds blew sand and mist into everyone's eyes, except Annie, who Wrecker was shielding with his hands.

Annie tried to shield his eyes, but he didn't let her.

The cackles continued as the ladybugs landed, a large thud caused from their tremendous feet latching onto the sandy stony stony marshy path.

Atop the ladybugs, were none other than the most feared gang in all of Amphibia, The Claws of The Wind. Burly, bulky and brawny, they were decorated with frog bone armor and they were armed to the teeth with bows equipped with living hornets and wasps, spider mandible daggers and mosquito stinger katannas. Their white caterpillar furs only made them seem bigger, and instead of helmets they wore the melted down faces of their enemies for head gear.

It was a terrifying sight to behold, but it was easily beaten by the booming voice of their leader.

"Avast, ye filthy mongrel scallywags and show some gumption! Why ye pissy pansies be callin ous 'ere when thar be a crises goin' on does me 'ead in!"

Disembarking his lady bug and standing as tall as a street lamp, the leader took giant steps that shook the very earth as he looked around for the cause of the ruckus.

"Wut in Frog's name could be so fuckin' alarmin' I canne tells ya…", he continued, until his eyes set down on the Wrecker.

First, shock painted his face, before the slimiest, ugliest and hungriest grin anyone had ever seen illuminated his face. "Oh… Wut 'ave we 'ere, then? If it ain't our auld friend…"

He lifted Wrecker's arm up high, causing the whole city to erupt in thunderous cheers of excitement at the prospect of murder. "THE WRECKER!"

Annie was still confused, and Wrecker, guilt lacing his face, nodded his head. "Annie… Before I joined Toad Tower…"

He faced his past with full resentment, taking in the punishment he deserved.

"…I was a Claw of The Wind."

(The Mandalorian Main Theme – Ludwig Gorranson – The Mandalorian)

CHAPTER 3:

ALL THE WORLD'S A STAGE

(Davy Jones' Theme – Hans Zimmer – Pirates of The Carribean)

"So… The legends are true."

Grime was staring out the window, chaos and havoc strewing outside as the very pissed leader of The Claws of The Wind walked around with his gang ransacking nearly every house on the street. Fires raged in small areas and the dead body carts were overflowing, but Grime didn't know if he could or should do anything. It was horrible.

"Well, that depends on whose telling the legend, now dinnae it?"

Grime turned around, almost forgetting his host/the frog who had saved his life. He was an odd fellow for sure, medium sized and as grey as the mists that permeated the city, with wooden teeth that didn't hide the missing ones and a sagging face that still managed to hold a discomforting smile.

Taking a moment to stare around his location, the captain's quarters of the old pirate ship that now stood as a house, Grime walked up to the frog on a silk carpet red as blood and asked "My father warned me that people like you would be gutting me up for dinner."

"And yet th' lad dinnea got a gammie, diddy?", the frog asked, wheezing almost from laughter and slapping Grime's back.

Grime, taking a look around at the modest surroundings (red carpet aside, the room was brown, wooden, and rotting, with a solitary white slice of bread on a plate), asked without looking "What's a gammie? And a Diddy? I'm sorry, but I'm not aware of this dialect."

"A bad sign from our future captain, int it no?", the frog said, pointing at Grim with a crusty and wrinkly finger. The toad has to agree; he really should know these dialects. "Gammie is small injury, diddy is did he…", he began, only to instinctually turn and punch a cannonball back to whence it came from as it hurtled towards him.

"And this is a problem!"

(Walk The Plank – Hans Zimmer – Pirates of The Caribbean)

Grime's eyes widened as he realized that the ship was under attack, and he immediately went into battle mode. "Should we pincer them or do you want us to hold our ground here?"

Punching another frog out, but making sure he doesn't die, the host replied "We're not fighting one of yee toad wars, and what I want YEE to do is grab some bourie, breakfast for yer wee brain!"

Grime was going to protest, but a combination of the host's quick response "Yer not in any shape to fight, so stop geranan, and start gobbling!" and his own weak stomach and body reacting to being starved and unconscious for two days made him comply, so he went to the cupboards to see what was available.

"'And me that Cutless while yer at it, landlubber!", the frog ordered, and Grime, finding the cutless, handed it over as he searched for sustennence.

"We got some lovely 'addock, that pantry over there 'as the BIGGEST termite shishkebabs you've ever seen, take yer pick!", the frog informed, sword fighting two pirates who knocked on his window. "Jerry, Steve, ya gots ta stop tryin' to rob me ship!"

"Anything that wasn't alive once?", Grime asked, narrowly avoiding a harpoon that was now meters above him.

"Wut did A say abot killin' people? It's in the frikin' code, ye surely read it buoy now?", the frog knocked down Steve and, turning for a moment with an unamused expression, remarked "Yer moighty picky, ye 'no? What da ya even eat?"

"Well, stuff that wasn't alive once?", Grime offered lamely, before finally finding a leaf of lettuce that was hiding in one of the shelves.

"Shiver me timbers, und I thought you was burryin' that carcass for sentimental reasons!", The Frog shouted back, climbing out the window and onto the roof of his ship, fighting off the intruders with the cutlass and a broom that was hanging nearby.

Grime, stuffing the leaf into his mouth, felt guilty over staying. Bad enough this frog was taking pity over him, but he was being treated once more as some sort of superior being while an "underling" worked for him? Grime was definitely lost and unsure of who he was, but he wasn't just going to let this slide!

So, running upstairs, he searched for the flight that would take him to the starboard.

"Avast ye scallywags! Ye cannee have me treasure! I mean, I barely have nothin' as it is!", The Frog shouted, knocking off another 3 frogs, but finding 6 swords pointing at him from point blank range.

Laughing nervously, The Frog said "Toimes must be tough if yer robbin' me, laddies!" and he backed off slowly, looking for an exit. His back nearly gave out, and his legs began to shake. He was getting too old for this shit.

"'And over yer personal belongings, old man!", the pirates ordered, but before anyone could do anything…

SLAM!

Four barrels of rum coursed by and knocked the men over, breaking and spilling the liquid all over the floor. Foam and bubbles rose and the stench of alcohol seated the air as The Frog went over to Grime half angry. "Are ya daft, man? I tolds ya to stay in thar quarters, ye not in the roight shape!"

"I couldn't just sit there while you did everything for me!", Grime retorted, lifting his sword and fighting off some more pirates who kept swinging in from different houses on ropes, some falling down onto the ground and dying instantly upon impact.

"So that's why there are so many bodies outside?", Grime asked, climbing the mast and fighting off 2 men, and The Frog nodded.

"Only one Frog death in 40 years, remember? Even us "Monsterous" frogs keep to that, Toad!", The Frog bit back as he fought 5 men, climbing the mast too.

Grime frowned, not liking that answer. "I never said anything like that!"

"But yerve been told that, haveanee?", The Frog shouted back, the two already at the top of the mast.

Back to back, Grime and The Frog had to come up with a plan fast, or these knife in mouth wielding lunatics might just kill them despite the law.

"Well, toad, you good for anythin' outside of killin' our kind?", the frog asked, and Grime, his good side tired of all the death, all the crimes of his kind, all the mistakes he had made, lashed out by cutting the ropes.

"I don't want to be a killer!", he shouted, words echoing in the distance as the mast dropped down on the invading frog pirates, who collapsed down onto the deck, a loud thud emitting from their fall.

Thinking quickly, Grime leapt onto the other mast and climbed down the ropes as fast as a shooting star, before disarming the pirates while they were still distracted.

Standing next to him, smiling triumphantly, was The Frog. "Well, well, mateys… Why don't ye shuffle yerselves outta here?"

Shivering in fright, the pirates fled, threatening they would come back once the toad was gone, and Grime and The Frog, exhausted from the adrenaline kick, laughed in relief.

Admiring the toad, much to his surprise, The Frog offered his old crooked hand and shook Grime's. "I moust admit it… Yous dids well out thar! I dinnae think those scurvy rats will be botherin' me again anytoime soon!"

"Well…", Grime started, grateful and shocked to hear such words of praise directed at his presence. How warm could a handshake be? Apparently that warm! "…I was more than happy to help!"

The Frog stared at Grime with an ajar look, intrigued by his guest. "Well now… I see that my newly acquired antiquated views of your lot may joust have been misgouided."

His voice took on a curious tone. "Tell me, laddie… What is yar name?"

Grime, feeling ok for the first time in ages, answered in earnest. "Grime."

The Frog had a twinkle of realization in his eyes as he replied "Hudini. Former first mate of The Dread Pirate Mogs himself."

Hudini grinned with fascination at his new friend. "What say you about a job while ya heal in me home?"

(Isolation – Bryan Taylor – Iron Man 3)

"Wrecker, you're fired!"

29 Year Old Wrecker, eyes widening and heart breaking, refused to believe that fact as he saw his dressing room be emptied by a bunch of burly and beefy workers. Posters of famous productions, scroll copies of his favorite plays, even his bed were being dumped outside onto the trash heap that the "Golden Pond Theatre Troup" wagons had parked next to.

Poor Wrecker, dressed in ill fitting brown rags, a piece of paper pretending to be a hankercheif and a golden rock with numbers scratched on it pretending to be a pocket watch in his torn waistcoat, pleaded for mercy from the Troupe's manager, Mystique Meringue, a curtain red female who was as wide as the stage, as the actors liked to joke. She definitely had the voice for a stage, that was for sure.

"F…Fired? But… But why?", Wrecker asked, shocked and traumatized. This must have been the 6th place to kick him out in 9 years! Scrambling for hope, he kissed her brilliant ruby slippers, that sparkled even inside the small wooden shack Wrecker called a trailer, and, more importantly, a home.

Mystique, heaving a large sigh, did not have the energy to deal with "Such drama! Oh, Wrecker, dah-ling! You are an ac-tor! READ between the lines!", she huffed, as she shoved an empty second purse from her spider silk coat (the first one, made of cicada fur, was dangling from her stick insect thin fingers).

Wrecker gulped, his head and heart now heavy with the burden of the truth. "…Those poor people… I… I couldn't let you."

"Oh for heavens sake, Wrecker, I merely sent Brute and Cassius to swipe some funds, you know we're struggling to keep the show going!", Mystique lectured, waving her nose and cigar stick in the air.

Wrecker, feeling a sudden wave of resurgent bravery, laid a truth bomb. "The show would go on just fine without that new butterfly wings scarf of yours."

The two movers, who just so happened to be Brute and Cassius, stepped forwards and cracked their knuckles threateningly, but Mystique snapped her fingers and they parted way for her.

Pinching Wrecker's cheek, she blew a puff of smoke and declared "And it will continue to go on MARVELLOUSLY without your mediocre stage presence. Ta ta, dah-ling!"

Taking her purse back, Mystique turned her back on Wrecker, who looked furious as she left. He could take the hit, but she was just going to hurt more people, now wasn't she?

"And it would be on me if I let her just go." He thought, and, standing up, he aimed one last hit.

"Well, I am sure the police will find the summery of your most recent acting job most interesting!"

Wrecker felt a rare swell in his chest, righteousness emenating from his soul, but Mystique was quick to correct.

"Oh, I guess you missed the part in the script where I will kill your precious snail if you do so.", she grinned maliciously before cackling evily.

Wrecker knew when he was beat; trudging off, zero possessions and no bed to sleep in, he walked off outside onto the dirty muddy patch of sand and grass as the carriages drove off, leaving him with his now safe snail.

The snail barked with concern, and Wrecker, smiling softly, petted the creature. "No, girl, they won't get to you, not while I'm here. You're the one thing I actually manage to keep safe."

Sighing, Wrecker leaned on the snail and threw his arms up in the air in frustration. "But I don't know what we're gonna do now, girl! I've tried almost every job, and every time we end up getting kicked out, and now more innocent people will be swindled by that criminal!"

He covered his face in shame. "All because of me! Oh, if Mo… If Mrs. Croaker saw me now! What would she say?"

The Snail answered, and Wrecker shook his head. "Yeah, I wish. No offense, girl.", he quickly added, and the snail nuzzled his face, which made him smile for a moment before frowning again.

"Pretty soon we'll run out of the little money we have. Then what? We have nowhere to go, I have no skills to deploy! Apparently, I'm not even good at the one thing I have a diploma at!"

That old feeling of inescapable doom and dread struck his heart, and Wrecker sat down, tears streaking down his face. How could he have ever thought he could be anything more than a complete failure?

His lip trembled as he sobbed. "Frog… Please… I just want to be good. I just want to give something back."

"Give somethin' back, ay? Maties, Me thinks I found us a landlubber with some brains!"

Wrecker, instinctually reacting in alarm, stood up and shielded the snail with his arms outstretched, preparing for any possible pain, eyes shut in fear. "Do whatever you want to me, just don't hurt the snail!"

"Blimey, me heartie, only thing I want to do is to shakes yer hand!"

Wrecker hesitated, before opening his eyes and witnessing who was before him. Towering over him and the snail were four mountains of frogs, floating above him with their ladybugs, wielding swords and friendly greetings.

A short fat blue one with a hook and a bandana, a tall thin purple one with a peg leg and a parrot and a medium sized green one with an accordion all complimented the main man, whose awe inspiring size and strength were only matched by the genuine smile on his face.

"Names Swampbeard! Captain Swampbeard of the Claws of The Wind, and these sea dogs are me trusted crew!", he declared with a booming voice, pride in his tone.

He quickly introduced each crew member. "Blubs over thar is the one with the eyepatch…"

"A praying mantis monster took moine out, now dinneat?", Blubs explained, laughing loudly.

Wrecker shook his hand with a little less hesitation and smiled at the second crew member as he was introduced.

"Tall one is Lil Twigs here!", Swampbeard presented, and Twigs bowed exaggeratedly.

"Me only gots one leg, why on account of me being stuck in a newt mountain for 128 hours!"

"Squak, he sure did, squak!", the ridiculously large parrot squaked, making the ground shake.

Wrecker shook his hand too before turning to the last one. "And what horrible thing happened to you?", Wrecker chuckled, thinking he had caught onto the pattern.

The accordion wielding one looked down, almost bawling, as she mewled "Me mum had me go to accordion lessons!"

Everyone shook their head with sympathy. "I'm so sorry to hear that!", Wrecker comforted, and The Accordion Weilding one shook his hand heartily.

"Yer a good 'un, sir! Cricket is me name, assisting the community is me… Well, our game!"

"Really? No offense, but you don't seem the type!", Wrecker said to all of them, as she sat down, head resting on the snail that continued to nuzzle him protectively.

Landing their ladybugs on the ground, Swampbeard, Blubs, Twigs and Cricket all sat down too, forming a sort of semi-circle as they all stared at Wrecker. "Well, I cannae hardly blame ye, but looks can be deceiving, matie…", Swampbeard replied, stroking his beard with intrigue.

Wrecker felt bad, he knew better than anyone that being judged hurt (even if everyone was right when they judged him), so he sighed and apologized. "I'm sorry, Captain Swampbeard, I'm just a little on edge. Life gave me another kick in the rump, ya know?"

Swampbeard's voice turned understanding and reflective, his large face nodding slowly. "Aye, matey. Aye indeed."

Wrecker slightly hugged himself as he offloaded more. "I'm sorry to vent, but I just got fired. Kind of took the wind off my sails… No pun intended, of course!", Wrecker quickly backed off, but the others laughed merrily.

"Well, savvy, we are truly similar in that way! Why, I got laid off four times!", Swampbeard shared, and Blubs, Twigs and Cricket all flashed a 3 with their fingers to indicate their record.

Wrecker let out a small chuckle, starting to feel a bit better. "I'd say I got ya beat, 6 is my current number."

"Oh ho! Stage is all yours than, heartie!", Swampbeard and the others lightly jested, but soon softened when they saw Wrecker's frown. A collective nod sealed an agreement to listen attentively to his plight.

"Not anymore. I wasn't good enough for the "Golden Pond Theatre Troup", alongside my… Disagreement with their thieving practices."

Silence rose over the area, and Wrecker felt himself get deeper into the hole. When would it finally seal? When would it finally end?

"…I just wanna do some good. Just once."

But out of nowhere, a door of opportunity opened before him, and a new ray of hope offered him a chance to do some good for once.

"Or perhaps they weren't good for you."

Standing up, and hoisting Wrecker up to his feet, Captain Swampbeard gave him an encouraging grin and a pat on the back, illiciting a small but meaningful smile on Wrecker's face. "Just like they wore a mask, so do we; we are pirates and thieves to outsiders, but in reality we are noble liberators, on a mission to steal from the rich and give to the poor. All the world's a stage, pal. They forced on you the role of a failure…"

Swampbeard offered Wrecker a sword, and Blubs, Twigs and Cricket all pointed theirs in the middle, to form a vow. "But now you can choose a new role: As a hero."

Swampbeard's golden teeth glinted in the morning sun as he grinned at his new friend and crew member. "What say you, matey?"

Wrecker looked at the horizon. Poor people were gonna suffer because he wasn't good enough to stop that Mystique Meringue from scamming them. But now he had a chance…

And this time, he wasn't going to fail.

Taking the offered sword, and adopting a determined and heroic grin, Wrecker took on a new part.

"I say we do some good!"

"YAAAAARRRRRRRRRRRRR!", The pirates declared with glee, filling the sky with shouts of motivation.

Swampbeard, happy to save a kindred soul, nodded his head with a wink and shook his new partner's hand. "Welcome aboard, Wrecker…"

31 years later, and that same hand was now locking Wrecker's hands and head in a pillory, a look of malicious glee and vengeful desire igniting his eyes as he tightened the holds.

He cackled, his voice like the lovechild of a cough and a growl. "Good to have ya back, pal…", he whispered with intense anticipation. This was what he had waited for for 30 years now, and he was going to enjoy it.

The pillory left red, pulsating marks on Wrecker's already bruised and ancient hands. If it wasn't for the bonds that now encased them they might have started to shake and shiver. His knuckles were also red, but from blood that was seeping from the reopened old wounds that the pillory was cutting.

Despite all this, Wrecker let out a small, weary laugh. Pain was an old friend… And right now, the only old friend he had around here.

Swampbeard took offence to this, and he removed a dagger and held it close to Wrecker's throat. "Choose yar words carefully… I am a lot more forgiving than the jury awaitin' you in thar inn."

"And they are more forgiving than me.", Wrecker sighed in response. He knew he deserved this, but Annie still had to be rescued! How on Amphibia was he going to get out of this?

"Well, then… At least we are in agreement.", Swampbeard stated, bellowing in mad laughter as he pushed Wrecker's pillory along towards the inn, Annie and Peter following close behind, Annie out of concern, and Peter out of confusion and curiosity.

Steam blowing out of her ears, Annie growled at the captors of her protector, as she leapt in front of them to stand in opposition to the pillory. She was steadfast in her belief, and Wrecker almost felt a tear coming. What did she see?

"WHERE ARE YOU BRINGING HIM?!", she practically screamed, as Peter caught up, breathless and bewildered.

"Bring me up to date; I'm sure that he didn't mean to burn my cart, there's no need to hurt him!"

"We're bringing him to justice!", Swampbeard roared, and the fellow Claws shouted in approval as they carried Wrecker closer to the inn.

Annie, panicking, desperate to save Wrecker, ran forwards, Peter trying to catch up. "WAIT! Bring me too!"

As they reached there, Peter took a look at Annie and suddenly recognized her. "Wait a minute… Annie? Annie Lilypad?"

"Not now, person who apparently knows my name!", Annie snapped, not up for a conversation, before recognizing the boy before her. "Peter? Peter Pimples?"

"What are you doing here? Did you sneak out? Oh Frog, your dad will be so mad at you! Need a ride home? I can take the blame instead!", Peter spouted out, but Annie was already back with Swampbeard, pleading Wrecker's case.

Tears dropped onto the ground as she went on her knees. She had to save him! She had to! "Wait, Mr. Pirate Captain sir! I… I have to help him, he'd never defend himself!"

Wrecker would have smiled proudly, but he knew that he deserved no such priviliges.

Swampbeard practically spat at the girl, which made Wrecker red with rage. "Sorry, wee girly! Only family is allowed to testify and attend for thee accused! That's the code!"

Time was running out. And when time begins to run out, we make snap decisions, that sometimes reflect our inner beliefs.

"Well!... Well, let me in then! I'm his daughter!"

Wrecker tried not to show the effect that statement had on his heart, and Peter's eyes widened. "Daughter? Annie, your dad isn't…"

Annie quickly elbowed Peter in the ribs and whistled innocently. "Yep! Ah, he's my dad! Definitely my dad! Daddy daddy dad! Raised me and shit! Love ya pops! Ol Papa bear here! He's my dad… Boogie woogie woogie."

Annie trailed off, the realization of her "confession" of sorts hitting her, as Swampbeard grunted in annoyance. "Then you can enter, lassie. Just stay out of ME WAY!", he barked, and Annie saluted in alarm.

She just started to take a step into the large, black wooden inn that emitted sounds like a pride of lions on the attack when Peter grabbed onto her shoulder and turned her around.

"Peter, I'm kind of in the middle of defending my dad!", Annie spouted impatiently, not even noticing the slip.

Peter, however, was totally puzzled, confounded and befuddled. "But… But he's not your dad! Your dad would never let you go here! What is going on?"

Annie was about to scoff at Peter's idiocy when it struck her. Instantly, her expressions softened and tears coated her eye lids as she realized the implications of this.

"…You don't know… Do you? You… You were travelling until now, you had no news source…"

Reaching a tender hand towards his shoulder, Annie gulped and began to sob, the weight of the town's death on her shoulders once more.

Peter stared at her, still unsure. He removed her hand, and lifted her face, sympathetic. "Annie… What's wrong?

Annie took a deep breath. "…Peter… It's about Marsh Pond… And your dad."

While this heartbreaking exchange occurred, Wrecker was dragged into the inn by the pillory, and he looked up to the inn's sign, a bird's claw made of the finest gold, glinting so bright it nearly blinded him.

Inside, there waited hundreds of people who wanted him dead for doing the right thing.

But Wrecker did not object. "After all I've done…"

The words trailed, and Wrecker resigned himself to fate, staring down with shame, his eyes shut in pain, as the doors swung wide open.

"Come all ye young frogs that follows the sea…"

"Yo ho… Blow the toad down!"

"Now please, pay attention, and listen to me…"

"Yo Ho… Blow the toad down!"

Grime grimaced as he removed the gigantic black flies (some of which were still alive) that were attached to the ship's hull, his hands callused from the work. He didn't know what hurt more: the work, or Houdini's singing.

"I'm a deep water sailor, just come from Froguslie Bog"

"Yee give me some gold, I'll finish 'em and sing ya a song!"

Grime couldn't help but chuckle at Houdini, though, as the frog pirate repaired the cannon shots, sort of dancing a jig as he worked. Grime wished he could be this jolly as he worked.

"When a trim black ball liner tired me of sea"

"I flocked to the shore and bid farewell to thee"

"When a travel worn sailor is encountering thee"

"You'd do yourself wise to be careful of me!"

Those words sung, Houdini suddenly threw his sword, right over Grime's head.

Grime's face went white as he ducked, despite a moment's hesitation, and looking up, he was met not with the sword but with Houdini's coarse laughter, the old sailor's sides splitting in half.

Grime frowned as he resumed his work, Houdini stepping up to him and patting his back, still chortling. "I'm sorry, lad, I just canne help meself sometimes! Yous was never in any danger!"

Grime sighed. He knew it was just a joke, he was probably taking it too personally.

"…I'm sorry however if it bothered you."

Grime looked up in surprise, foreign words heading into his ears, this harder to decipher than the pirate lingo Houdini usually used, but by now the former pirate had moved on to a different conversation topic.

"Those flies are falling faster than… Well, flies! You a sailor?"

"No. Just a hard worker.", Grime replied, wiping the sweat off his brow and applying more pressure to the flies.

"I wouldn't say just, me lad! That thar be the finest fly removal I've ever seen! And I spent 13 years with the Dread Pirate Mogs!", Houdini praised, as he lit his pipe and blew a puff of smoke.

Grime appreciated the compliment, but he shrugged it off. "It's nothing."

"No. It's not."

Grime and Houdini stared at each other for a few moments, and Houdini grinned at the young toad, who smiled a small smiled back.

Returning to their work and pipe smoking, Grime kept on while Houdini asked "So I guess it be yer father who taught ya the work ethic?"

"Sort of. My mother taught me to help others, even odd strangers who host me after saving my life.", Grime informed, and Houdini nodded, understanding.

"Sounds about right."

He then added, while wistfully gazing at the clouds, "Now, I bet you I can nail this: Yer dad's the one with the outdated outlook on frogs?"

Grime was never one to criticize his father, but he WAS in the presence of a frog, and he WAS his mother's son too. It was all so confusing, especially after the pall forest, but Grime's peaceful self was still present, and he wasn't just going to change his outlook. If anything, it was GRIME that was wrong with the world, not frogs.

Besides… It WAS sort of his father. "...My father and I have different ways of solving the conflict."

"Which is fancy talk fer yer father 'ates frogs and yee danne know what side yer on, on account of yer mother and all?"

Grime wanted to object, but…

"…I guess so?"

Grime was surprised by how easily Houdini had read him. "How did you know?", he asked, confused.

"Call it intuition.", Houdini "replied", before standing up and saying "I can tell that ye are on the right track. I don't get why Marsh Pond blew up, but, well, there's a secret to every story, now isn't thar?"

Grime shrugged, assuming that was true, before noticing that Houdini was walking away towards the captain's quarters entrance. Confused, he called "Wait, are you leaving the rest to me?"

"Scrub those decks and DON'T enter the west wing, and you'll be fine! Just stay careful from the arrows, they should start sailing above yer head in… 30 seconds, give or take!", Houdini answered, before leaving Grime alone with his thoughts.

Another side to Marsh Pond? What could it be? He was responsible for it!

…Right?

"This frog is confusing.", Grime thought, but he sort of smiled, appreciating how surprisingly nice he was.

An arrow than nearly took Grime's head off.

"Oh Toad!", he cursed, and he ducked from the attack.

"So… Here's the plan, maties…", Swampbeard started, his whisper as sharp as the sword he wielded, cutting the silence of the gathering into ribbons. Wrecker, his snail (who had gone to sleep), Blubs (enjoying his bog rum perhaps a little too much), Lil Twigs (who was feeding his humungous parrot whole giant apples that grew in the forest) and Mosquito (who was nervously playing the accordion) all sat around a bright and burning bonfire, the fireflies and crickets adding to the ambience of the mood. Wrecker, who hadn't eaten so well even as part of a troupe, put down his beetle jerky and listened carefully. He wanted to get this right.

"First, we enter, with a wee help from Lil Twigs here. This sea dog is the best in the business at quick entries and getaways, he'll have those ladybugs up and running like the wind itself!", Swampbeard explained/motivated, his eyes dancing in the light of the fire. It was like he could excite you just by looking at you, Wrecker could already feel his heart pounding like a jackhammer and his mucus glands work overtime.

Lil Twigs nodded, patting one of the ladybugs that nestled behind him and slept peacefully. "Beautiful creatures…", Wrecker commented as he too fed the large parrot, remembering Mrs. Croaker's old ladybug that she would drive with, and Twigs nodded with a smile.

"After that, Cricket, Blubs, Wrecker and I will enter their dungbie (I assume that's where they keep it)."

Swampbeard pointed at Cricket with his sword, and the frog jumped in fright before saluting. "Cricket! Ye shalt construct us a pulley rope to put the money bags on so that Lil Twigs can grab them from outside, savvy?"

Cricket nodded, if a little hesitantly. While she was talented in the crafts as well, she always felt so.. Unsure.

"I betcha can do it! I don't think the Captain would have tasked you that job for no reason!", Wrecker comforted, a knowing look and a soft hand easing Cricket's soul.

"Yeah… Yer right, landlubber! I cans do it!", she cheered, and the rest agreed with aye's and clinks of their mugs of rum.

"Ah, indeed that is true, lassie! But the job's not done yet! Blubs! If ye can stop chugging down for a second!", Swampbeard playfully whacked Blubs on the head, and the tough frog shook his head and saluted, fully focused now. Wrecker immediately handed Blubs his still quite full mug of rum, and Blubs nodded appreciatively.

"Aye, Captain?", he asked, and Swampbeard patted him on the back.

"You will be our guard and wall, until Cricket aids you. Me needs ya to man the crow's nest and shout if any hornswagglers wish to meet the sharp end of me cutlass!", Swampbeard commanded, and Blubs saluted.

"Aye Aye, captain!"

Wrecker, who had followed the plan closely, thought it was definitely a good one, and he was overjoyed to help the poor citizens who were swindled. But he was confused by one thing, so he raised his hand as if he were in school.

"Aye, matey?", Swampbeard asked, intrigued, and Wrecker ventured forth.

"Captain, permission to ask what I am supposed to be doing? Why, I can't just leave all the work to you guys! This is my failure.", he said, guilt lacing his words.

Swampbeard, sensing his inner struggle, moved over to his side and laid a comforting hand on his shoulder, eyes sparkling with belief. "Now, Wrecker, don't ye worry 'bout a thing! I told ya you'd have yer chance, and yee shall! You actually have the most important job of all: Yer gonna distract the surely awake captain of their ship!"

"What?!", Wrecker asked, shocked and confused. The others laughed merrily as he nearly fell on his butt. He stared, wide eyed. "Captain, with all respect, I can't risk the mission with my talentless stupidity!"

Swampbeard shook his head with good humor. "My lad, if yee don't believe yee can do this, then you're shark bait before we even set foot on their deck."

He stared off into the distance, philosophical. "A frog who doesn't leap with assurance falls flat on his face every time. But a frog who leaps with hope… Well, he just might make it."

The smile on Swampbeard's face felt so genuine, Wrecker couldn't help but believe it to be true. Wiping the frown off his face, his mind drifted to those who needed him. Those who needed him to do just One. Good. Thing.

And with that thought, he saluted his Captain wholeheartedly. "Aye aye… Captain!"

Swampbared roared with a hearty bellow and he patted Wrecker's back, nearly dropping the frog to the ground below. "I like yee, matie!"

Downing his rum in one gulp and throwing the mug away, he lifted his sword to the sky and shouted "All hands on deck! We set sail now, hearties!"

The others raised their swords, and all roared with confidence and belief.

Wrecker smiled as he lowered his. It felt like something he never really had.

It felt like home.

"Easy, love, easy…", Lil Twigs whispered to the ladybug he was currently riding, the rest of the Claws hanging on to the other ladybugs in the hopes they would be quiet enough. The night sky was a soothing shade of dark blue, almost like a warm, freshly knitted blanket had been laid above them, with only the stars barely bright enough to guide them towards their intended target. Cricket nervously tapped her fingers on her ladybug, Blubs stretched his arms, prepared for the potential physical confrontation, and the gales that travelled among them made Wrecker shiver. The consequences of his potential failure danced in his eyes, and Swampbeard, his own eyes locked on him, pointed at the horizon with his sword.

"Any minute now we will arrive near their wagons. Are ya ready, matey?", he asked, genuinely and softly.

Wrecker nodded fearfully, a loud gulp emanating from his throat, his sword wielding hand shaking like he was knee deep in snow. "Y-Yes…".

Wrecker remembered Swampbeard's words from earlier. He had to act confident for the poor people Mystique was going to rob.

"Come on, man, just ONCE do something good!", he yelled at himself in his mind, as he flew over to Cricket's side, who stopped shivering and felt a little braver.

The ladybug's wings kept flapping as silently as possible as they passed the last few green hills and pastures and finally arrived at a desert plain just before Swamp City. There, resting peacefully for now, were the wagons of the "Golden Pond" Theatre troupe, red and gold coating that shimmered even at nighttime decorating their lives of fallacy.

"That's them all right…", Wrecker whispered, the rest nodding with assurance. Captain Swampbeard directed the gang on where to land, and as light as a feather, they all ported near the main wagon, nothing moving but the few blades of grass below them and some sand that got into Wrecker's eyes and blinded him for a bit.

While Wrecker rubbed his eyes, Captain Swampbeard looked inside the wagon window and whistled quietly in awe. "Quite the digs they have 'ere, me hearties! I would walk the plank a million times for luxary like this!"

Wrecker shook his head as he approached the window, feeling responsible for the stolen goods trapped within. "I would walk it for an eternity if it meant we could just get this stuff back to its rightful owners. I can't believe I let this happen."

Swampbeard places a comforting hand on Wrecker's shoulder, as Twigs figured out how to unlock the door without arousing any suspicion. "That's water under the bridge. What matters is how you cross the seas now that you know how to."

Wrecker smiled softly back at him, and he placed a comforting hand back. "You know, Captain, I must be going sea mad, because you're convincing me that I just might do it."

"Do what?", Swampbeard asked, a twinkle in his eye.

"…Make all the pain worth it."

Suddenly, the door creaked open ever so slightly, and 5 frogs nearly had a heart attack, but to their good fortune, not a thing was stirring in the house, not even a louse.

"Avast, maties. We enter the Dutchman's keep now.", Swampbeard warned, and with a motion of his hand, 4 pairs of frog feet slowly embarked the wagon, with only a sharp sword keeping them from certain doom.

Wrecker looked around, remembering his bosses headquarters with less than enthusiastic eyes. Every single corner, nook and crany of the wagon was filled to the brim with treasure: the finest gold chalices and swords from Toad Tower sat upon or above the doom tree wood cabinet, silk worm carpets and oil on canvas paintings of famous productions of the troupe's plays from Marsh Pond made the floors and walls almost feel homely, and even Wartwood's only real export of vegetables looked fancier here than Wrecker had ever seen in his life. Every solid inch of the room could have set the buccaneers for life, but while their eyes wandered all over with awe, their hearts were still set on one target and one target alone: The money safe Meringue kept somewhere in this here wagon.

Thanks to the recent renovations, the doom tree wood panels that shone so brightly that Wrecker could see his own reflection in did not squeak, allowing for the group to proceed in a faster fashion than they would have thought possible.

Captain Swampbeard stopped at the end of the room at a hall that led to three doors, one to the right, one to the left, and one dead ahead. He narrowed his eyes, one hand always ready for a forthcoming trap, as he turned to Wrecker and bid him a question. "Well, matie… Where be the gold?"

Wrecker stepped forwards, hand confidently pointing dead ahead. He could never forget the moment he had discovered where the money was being held, for he felt such tremendous responsibility for it being held there in the first place.

Without a word, Swampbeard nodded and he, Blubs and Cricket advanced into the treasure room, Wrecker staying behind and waiting for the inevitable guest to arrive. Mystquie Meringue was famously paranoid of being murdered in her sleep ("Drama queen", Wrecker thought), so if her guards weren't pacing the halls at that very moment, it would be the troupe manager herself that he would confront.

"It's gonna be tricky…", Wrecker thought, but he stood his guard and kept his breathing slow and soulful, focusing his mind on his ploy: He would distract Mystique by pretending to come back on his knees and beg to help her out in her crimes, provided he gets a place to stay and a piece of the profit pie.

The very thought of even pretending to like such a concept sent a shiver to his spine, but Wrecker reasoned with himself that of all things, "Pretending to be bad" would surely be the easiest thing he had ever done!

After all, he was a Wrecker. And that was all he could ever be.

…Right?

While Wrecker waited, the Claws entered the treasure room, which was oddly plain and quaint for a trove full of riches. There were no golden chalices or silk carpets here, just a plain wooden dusty floor and walls that cracked and smelled of mold. There was only one real item in the room, but it was one hell of an item indeed: The treasure box glinted like a glittering gemstone, so beautiful were the colorful patterns inscribed on it that Captain Swampbeard nearly forgot what they were doing. But thankfully he snapped right back into it and the plan was set into motion at lightning speed: Cricket constructed a pulley system from the room's only window (that thankfully pointed in the right direction) to Lil Twigs and his ladybug, and she and Blubs stood guarding Swampbeard's back as he attached the money to the pulley system and alongside Twigs made it go along down the wire. There was no possibility of standing guard outside, unfortunately, which meant the crew had to hope and trust that Wrecker could distract any oncoming intruders before it was too late.

Jumpy hands and minds filled the room as the chest was emptied. "How come both the door and the chest were unlocked? It doesn't make sense.", thought Swampbeard, as he kept on pulling out sack after sack of clinking golden coins. It marveled him: With all the prized possessions on board the wagon, how on Amphibia did the troupe still have so much money?

"How many frogs have been swindled by these bandits?", Swampbeard wondered, the weight of the gold sinking into his palm, the money jumping lightly in his hand.

"I care more about the 5 frogs who will dance the hempen jig if we don't hurry up, Captain!", Blubs commented, and Swampbeard shook his head and fastened his approach.

"I just hope Wrecker will get by.", Swampbeard thought, worried for his new friend. His self doubt was quite encompassing, despite the lack of evidence to justify that feeling. Could the frog really succeed in this challenge ahead?

As those words and feelings were uttered, Wrecker suddenly heard the faint sound of footsteps approaching the door to his right (the left door to one who entered the hall), and, raising his courage, thinking of the poor people that depended on him, he prepared for the role of his life.

"As easy as slipping on a mask…", he tried to convince himself, as he knelt down and clasped his hands in a begging position, the door opening in a flash to reveal a very high strung and alert Mystique Meringue, face mask and cucumber slice ensemble spread across her face almost as much as the shocked frown as her eyes laid upon the sight of Wrecker.

"Wrecker?! What in Frog's name are you doing here? The role has been cast, and we did NOT give you a callback!", she fanned herself to stop fainting, and Wrecker couldn't help a small eyeroll before reverting into his role, adopting the most desperate voice he could muster.

An actor has to disappear into his role, to really become his character so that he could convince the audience he was someone else. By mustering all his skills, and truly believing what he is saying, an actor can BECOME someone else, and, for a magical moment, share with you a whole new experience.

Alas, Wrecker was not THAT good of an actor. In fact…

He kind of stunk.

"OH, MADAM MERINGUE, OH LADY FAIR WHOSE EYES SHINE LIKE THE SUN THAT BIRTHED ME AS A TADPOLE! I BESEECH THEE TO SET ME FREE OF THE SHACKLES OF MEDIOCRITY!", Wrecker hammed up so bad, you'd swear he had eggs with it too. It was amazing that the scenery had no bite marks in it.

Inside the treasure room, Cricket and Swampnbeard grimaced and half smiled, while Blubs stifled a pained chuckle. "At least he's keeping her busy. Can't ask for much more.", Swampbeard stated, and they kept on the job as Wrecker kept on the cheese.

"OH WHAT LIGHT THROUGH YONDER WINDOW BREAK? TIS BUT THE MOON, AND MADAM MERINUGE IS THE WEST! OH FORGIVE ME FOR MY CARANAL SINS OF ILL REFUTE, FOR I HATH FORSAKEN MY DUTY TO THE APRICOT OF PASSION THAT IS MY HEART! SOB BREAK!", Wrecker announced, shedding tears, Madam Mystique enjoying the flattery for what it was worth.

"All right, Wrecker, enough! A lady can only hear SO much flattery… I might just feel weak… Oh!", she stopped him, fighting her blush. Wrecker fought his gag reflex and kept fighting.

"This just might work!", he thought to himself, as he cleared his throat and twirled an invisible moustache. "OH NOW! OH! WHAT IS THIS I HEAR? TIS MY HEART, MY HEART THAT SHATTERS FOR WHAT I HAVE DONE! I WISH TO COMMIT MYSELF FULL FLEGEDLY TO YOUR TEACHINGS! I WAS YOUNG, AND FOOLISH, BUT I HAVE CHANGED, I TELLS YA, I HAVE CHANGED!"

Mystique, chuckling at the performance, scratched her chin in thought, resting on her diamond studded cane. On the one hand, Wrecker was a MISERABLE actor, most dull in delivery and his overacting was simply not chique. However, he had some potential muscle on him, and the resistance of a coward… And he DID sneak in her quite efficiently…

Besides, a lady ought to have as many loving fans as possible, to make sure no one forgets whose number one!

"All right, Wrecker, you've convinced me! After much thinking on my part, I humbly accept and cherish your most sincere and well ennounciated apology! You never did have trouble with a stage voice…", she added, not joking, before returning to her over the top acceptance of his membership to her troupe.

Lifting him up to her and tickling his chin to arouse him, she stated "From now on, I herby declare you to rejoin "The Golden Pond" theatre troupe, where you shall never resist any order I give, be it thievery…"

"N… NARY A… NARY A COMPLAINT, OH EXALTED ONE!", he cried, with a bit of a stutter, hesitation in his heart, kissing her arm exagarattedly, causing her to moan in pleasure.

"I kind of wish I saw one of his plays…", whispered Lil Twigs, earning a laugh from his ladybug.

"And, you handsome devil you, you shall also assist in swindling, bamboozaling, duping, and any adjective that fits the phrase of stealing!", She continued.

Wrecker was struggling to agree to all this, his heart and soul violently knocking against his ribcage, but he couldn't betray the mission, even if it meant betraying himself.

"…Yes… Yes… I will…", he almost muttered, feeling his real self slip away. Was that his real self? Was he really…

Not that bad?

With only a few more bags of coins left, it seemed like the heist was a success. Swampbeard grinned at his crew and let Blubs and Cricket slide down while he would wait for the right moment to escape with Wrecker.

Mystique, almost finished with her speech, caressed Wrecker's face and added the final term…

Not knowing what damage it would do.

"Oh, and one more thing, itty bitty thing, not that crucial! I'm gonna need you to help me borrow some village children tomorrow so they can clean up after the snails and all, do menial chores. Hope you can carry 5 at a time!", she added with a haughty laugh, before beginning to leave back to her quarters.

Wrecker heard the term…

His eyes widened with realization…

And, without even noticing it…

He finally took off his mask.

"…No."

The atmosphere dropped dead, and Mystique Meringue turned to Wrecker with a frown and a shocked laugh. "I'm sorry?", she asked, about to harrumph her new employee.

Wrecker took a deep breath, knowing this was more important than any heist. "…No. I won't do it. I'm… I'm not a hero… But I won't do that."

Wrecker stood his ground as Meringue stepped up to him, icy stare like daggers that pierced his soul. He felt scared, he felt like he deserved it, but he stood his ground. He failed in so many ways… But he would not fail like this.

"Think very carefully about what you said.", she replied slowly, every word a warning to his health, as she began to growl. "You know I could kill you in a hundred different ways!"

Wrecker closed his eyes and sighed. "…But it would all be worth it… Because I would have done one. Good. Thing."

Meringue laughed in his face, her face contorting almost. "Ha! You said yourself… You're no hero."

She lifted her fist, and Wrecker closed his eyes in acceptance, but suddenly…

BOOM!

(Jack Sparrow – Hans Zimmer – Pirates of the Caribbean)

The door flew off its hinges, Wrecker only ducking thanks to the large hand the forced him to, while Meringue flew to the beginning of the wagon. Looking up, Wrecker stared in awe at Captain Swampbeard, holding aloft his sword and looking down at Wrecker appreciatively.

"Oh, he's a hero all right. Just a bad actor."

His eyes sparkled, and Wrecker just smiled. "…Thank you."

"Of course."

Before the two could say anything more, though, the door was thrown back at them, the two barely blocking it with their strength, wood splinters sticking out and scratching Wrecker's chin.

"How the hell did that happen?", Swampbeard asked, straining to throw the door off of them, but as it flew upwards once more it was broken in half. Wrecker and Swampbeard stared and gaped as, the door halves falling apart like an opening curtain, Mystique Meringue hovered over them, red blaring eyes and a pair of terrifying butterfly wings with eyes following them unveiled from her once aesthetically pleasing face.

She let out a spine tingling chuckle, before uttering "Time to draw the curtain on your sordid little lives!"

A massive flap of her wings, and the gust of wind that erupted from it sent the door halves right back at Wrecker and Swampbeard, the latter blocking Wrecker from them with his elbows, the smashing wood grazing him and making him bleed.

The drops of blood that dripped on the floor met Wrecker's leg as he rushed forwards, rage burning in his eyes. He leapt towards Mystique, his sword raised to cut her wings off, but she turned around and the eyes that stared into the soul reopened and Wrecker fell down in pain and fear, barely able to look at the monstrosity on the wings.

Swampbeard struggled too, and, thinking quickly, he tore another door out of its hinges and hid behind it with Wrecker, the two needing to come up with a plan immediately, since Mystique now noticed what they were doing and had flown into her room to fetch her sword. "What are those horrible things on her wings?", Wrecker asked, voice shaking, sword at his side.

Swampbeard, preparing for the inevitable attack by the enemy, took a quick look to see Mystique pick up her sword, and, leaning on his back, instructing Wrecker to do the same, prepared to launch an attack of their own. "I've heard of this before! Butterfly wings can cast an illusion of fear with those blaring eyes, making you think you're going to be eaten!"

Wrecker's face turned white: How the hell had Mystique acquired those things? And what would happen if she killed him now, before he could make up for his mistakes?

Turning to Swampbeard with nervous determination, he asked "How do we stop her?"

Swampbeard grinned and bent his knees, Wrecker realizing and repeating the same. "Simple! We ground her in reality!"

Just as Mystique began to charge, the door flew towards her, smashing her into her bedroom's wall and breaking her nose. Wrecker and Swampbeard leapt back to their feet and, swords at the ready, charged at the already up Mystique who roared with rage, her sword slashing at any available surface, her wings sending gusts of wind that blew away the bed covers, pillows and side cabinet mementos onto the floor.

"You really thought I would go down without a fight?!", Mystique cackled, striking faster and faster at Swampbeard and Wrecker, who backed off more and more out of the room.

"I sort of hoped you wouldn't! I haven't had such a challenge in forever!", Swampbeard roared with laughter, clearly enjoying the bout. He kept up with this duel, parrying and blocking every strike and searching for potential weaknesses, while Wrecker found himself overwhelmed, his weaker and more reserved attacks leading to cuts and scratches which only added to the blood on the floor, that stuck to their boots as they traversed back to the hall and through the final door, that crashed down onto the floor.

Swampbeard, noticing how dangerously close they were to dying, went for a handicapping strike, but he wasn't fast enough, and Mystique swept his legs from underneath him, sending him tumbling down, leaving Wrecker alone for the count.

Wrecker bit his lip in agitation as he backed off more and more, the carpeting in the kitchen rising up and making him trip and fall onto the floor. He was no match for Mystique, he knew that, and he knew that every moment he was still breathing was one too many, but…

"Well… Any last words, "hero"?", Mystique sneered and jeered, preparing to stab Wrecker in the chest.

A different time, a different place, Wrecker would have gladly taken the mercy offered to him.

But…

Today he was going to finally give something back.

"Yeah… Take a curtain call, Meringue!"

And, with a leap of hope, Wrecker opened his eyes and sliced the wings off mid flip, landing behind Mystique and releasing his held breath, as she fell to the ground with a thud and had her sword and hand removed by Swampbeard in an instant.

She screamed, blood gushing from the severed wound, and Wrecker and Swampbeard, after tying her up with a note informing the police of her deeds, rushed out of the window and onto the final ladybug, flying through the night sky in the speed of light.

Wrecker's heartbeat refused to slowdown, not until they reached the city that he had worked so hard to repay for his mistakes: Swamp City.

(This Is Berk – John Powell – How To Train Your Dragon)

"We're here, Wrecker. Justice has been done.", Swampbeard reconciled his friend, as they landed down onto the city floor, the same as it always was, though less violent, less scary. Confused heads popped out of the pirate ship houses, fishmongers scratched their knotted beards, and, soon enough, a large and noisy crowd had gathered around Wrecker, Swampbeard, and the rest of the crew, who held the large sack containing smaller sacks of money.

"What's in the bag?", a 13 year old frog with rasta hair asked, his brown skin shimmering in the firefly lights that the streets turned on at night. He limped towards Wrecker, eyes filled with wonder.

Wrecker, feeling as light as a feather, stared at the group of poor, hungry, thin, ragged clothed frogs, and smiled the happiest smile he had smiled in 9 years.

"…A gift.", was his simple reply, and lo and behold the bag was opened and every frog who had been cheated that day received their due course, with even some who hadn't even gone that day receiving a generous donation from the Claws.

The enchanted smiles of children, the grateful handshakes and pats on the back from the mothers and fathers, they meant more to Wrecker than any applause he had ever received on the stage.

The city had been so grateful actually that they started a celebration, and dancing and singing and great feasting stretched the night hours almost until dawn, orange and golden lights enriching Wrecker's soul. He was laughing merrily mid festivities when he clattered into Swampbeard, who shook his hand appreciatively. "You did a good job, matie. Look at all those faces. Finally given what they've always deserved."

Wrecker nodded, eyes almost welling up with tears. Was… Was this what living felt like?

It wasn't half bad.

"I wish my parents could see this. See me now.", he commented, feeling… Pride? Healthy pride?

"…Parents are overrated.", Swampbeard replied, his words dying on his lips.

The two frogs said nothing, but Wrecker placed a comforting hand on Swampbeard's shoulder. The captain smiled back. "…But you're not."

Wrecker digested the statement, and instead of his usual denial, he… He felt like it just might be right.

His heart settled for once, Wrecker smiled as a single tear stroked his cheek. Was he…

Was he good after all?

"But of course, we soon learned that OUR friend…", Swampbeard announced loudly, before staring deep into Wrecker's soul, and, voice full of disappointment, cut down with a "…MY… Friend…"

Wrecker looked down with sad, closed eyes, missing his old friend, who now was trying to kill him for something he didn't do. He didn't blame him… But it didn't hurt any less.

Turning back to the madding crowd, Swampbeard continued his verbal assault. "Had chosen to BETRAY us and stab us in the back, because we were too good for him!"

He then twisted the metaphorical knife with a dark laugh. "Of course… Being too good for you… Is easier than breathing."

Still imprisoned in his pillory, subject to the roars of disapproval and cries for his death, his beheading, his end, Wrecker stared down at the assembly, enraged and disappointed faces surrounding him at all corners.

"How fitting.", he muttered, keeping an eye out for Annie, who was all the way back near the bar. He wondered what she was up to, and if 20 really was an appropriate age to start drinking, but before he could get all parental on her, Swampbeard kept on, reading the charges.

"Wrecker, for that's what you prefer to be called, you are accused of the following charges: Backstabbery, misblaming, false accusation, theft of the highest order, missing attendance 31 years straight…"

Even Wrecker looked up with confusion at that.

"…We are very particular about these kind of rules.", Swampbeard sheepishly commented, before resuming his tirade.

While all this happened, Annie, closely followed by Peter, who was nervously staring around at the sharp axes and swords that shone dangerously around him, walked up to the bar with recklessly large steps, infuriated by this…

"…Sham trial! Why, the nerve of some frogs! Missed attendance? Thievery? They're literally PIRATES! Are you hearing this shit, Peter?", Annie ranted as she reached the bar counter and slammed her hand on the desk, making Peter jump in fright.

"Annie, don't! The counter could try to kill us in a place like this! Besides, how do you know your… "Father"… Didn't do all that?", Peter asked, before gulping down the choke he had in his throat. Just saying father sent him nearly wailing, and he couldn't afford to do that here.

Annie suddenly stared Peter with an uncompromising glare, never flinching, never even blinking. She didn't have to say anything. He just nodded.

"All right, then.", were his words, and he put his hands in his pockets and sighed, wondering where his life was possibly headed now. "Keep it together, man…", he whispered to himself, and he tried in vain to recite all the deliveries he had to make that day, and to which addresses.

Annie, meanwhile, turned on her bar stool and sent daggers at the barkeep, who, wiping a glass with a clearly dirty rag, a cockroach chugging down a beer bottle next to him, grumbled. "What's YOUR order, missy?"

"I order some justice!... And a juice box, I'm thirsty.", Annie admitted sheepishly, before resuming her crusade. Annie knew Wrecker well enough to know that he was innocent, but that he would also never defend himself, unless it was to save her. But seeing as this was a mock trial from the get go, an innocent plead would not be enough. If Annie wanted Wrecker to leave this place with his head still on, she would have to be fast.

The seriousness of the situation suddenly struck Annie and she stuttered, as she looked up at the barkeep, who was still waiting. A LIFE, a FROG depended on her. If she failed…

No! Annie would not fail! Not when her father… When Wrecker was in trouble!

Deepening her voice as much as possible, Annie tried to sound all gruff and tough. "Now, listen 'ere, mate, gimmie that thar rule book o'er thar, or taste the wrath of me disappointed face and sword which I've trained with for about a day!". This didn't leave much of an impression, of course, because Annie sounded like she was playing pretend, which, to be fair, she sort of was.

Annie was sure she would find a fight here, and her head sweated on the sword handle, but the barkeep was surprisingly willing to impart with the book, stating that the rules were VERY important to Swamp City residents, and he was surprised that Swampbeard hadn't lifted his rule book yet.

"Oh… That was easier than I thought!", Annie remarked, glad she didn't have to let Wrecker down by failing in a fight.

After all… She was just Annie.

"But I gots ta warn ya!", Barkeep commented, as she got off the chair with a "whoo!". "The people here hate Wrecker. They won't take too kindly to you defending him."

"Well, too bad! My dad is innocent!", Annie shot back, sticking her tongue, and trying to ignore now nice that sentence sounded in her mind.

Dragging Peter out of his stupor, and on the floor, she stepped up close to the stage, suddenly witnessing how large and all powerful Swampbeard seemed.

His legs were as long as a mountain she had painted once, his arms like tree trunks, strong and hard and uncompromising, his eyes filled with a darkness she could not begin to comprehend. His beard was as tall as her, for crying out loud!

…Would showing the book really change things? Would Swampbeard just kill her if she spoke up? And if he didn't, would the rowdy pirate Vikings among her, all enjoying the trial with massive shishkebab hornets and tarnatulas wedged on their swords and axes, go for the kill?

…Wrecker had so much guilt. Could she really add her death to his never ending list? Even if he WOULD die soon, she didn't want to cause him a second of grief!

But she couldn't just sit quietly and see him give up once more! He was good!

…Why couldn't he see it?

As all this happened, Wrecker looked at Annie and felt not guilt, nor regret, nor even a wish to escape: He felt shame.

Shame that she saw him like this, as if he were a criminal, despite how he knew that Swampbeard was the real villain.

But, a pang of pain struck his heart, and he nearly began to cry. Annie… So innocent, so pure. She had given him a reason to live for just a bit more.

He HAD to save her.

But… But how can you save someone when you don't want to save yourself? How could he live long enough when the thought of finally getting what he deserved, to stop being a burden and close his eyes forever just felt…

Right.

Having finished reading the charges, Swampbeard suddenly leaned his hand on the pillory, increasing the pressure on Wrecker's neck and making the frog gasp for air. Annie gasped, heart pounding, and the crowd cheered.

Wrecker was almost seeing spots as Swampbeard gave him a toothy smile and asked "Now… Old friend… How do you plead? Though I must warn you… A jury of your peers cannot WAIT to slice you up and put your head on a pike! I get the honors, of course. So… When you want that heart to stop beating… just say so."

Hand finally removed from atop of him, Wrecker coughed for air, and, wheezing, saw a scared and frightened Annie.

His suicidal side and his heart kept bouting, torn between his desire to finally rest and his desire to save the one he loved.

Wrecker's eyes darted around, and, thinking of his promise, he finally settled on the right call in his mind.

"Well?", Swampbeard asked, teasing a dagger under Wrecker's chin. Wrecker, grimacing, ready to face his fate, swallowed a gulp and opened his mouth.

"…I plead…", he hesitated. How could he ever claim to be anything but guilty?

Annie crossed her fingers and closed her eyes in hope.

…How could he ever let her down?

"…I plead… NOT guilty."

The crowd practically roared with disapproval, but Swampbeard quieted them down and asked "And how come? You and I both know that there's one man who hates you more than me… And that's you, pal."

Wrecker fought the tears, almost praying for frog to show him mercy just this once. "That's true… But while I am guilty for so much else… I will not be guilty of failing… My daughter."

Wrecker was playing along on Annie's scheme, but he couldn't help but feel a small ember of a flame erupt in his heart. He would truly do anything for her, wouldn't he?

Wrecker smiled peacefully. At least… At least he could die a little easier knowing she would be safe. It would never be enough… But… It would be worth all the pain.

"Kill me? Yes. But not now. Not yet! Let me save her first… And then… You can stab me a million times. I promise."

He looked straight at Annie and nodded slightly, determined. "…I promise."

Annie HATED hearing Wrecker say such things, but she was relieved, and she stopped holding her breath and wiped her forehead from the mucus stains: Perhaps such a vow would make Swampbeard reconsider. After all, he was a leader of a whole city, not some murderous maniac!

Swampbeard, however, WAS a murderous maniac. "Wrong answer…", he laughed, and he was just about to slice Wrecker's head off clean, Wrecker begging for Annie to be safe, when…

"STOP!"

The shout was so loud that all the glass mugs shattered at the bar counter and everyone held their ears in pain. Peter's were almost bleeding. "Oh frog!", he yelled, and he quivered in pain.

Swampbeard, shocked at the sound, turned to find the source of the noise, and Wrecker looked down with surprise, but also gratefulness. Thank frog that this miracle girl existed!

Annie, breathing heavily, holding aloft the book of rules, having paged through it like a madgirl, pointed at the magic page, the one that would save Wrecker's life.

"Captain Swampbeard! It says here in your very own code, the one you entrust in SO much, that a third option is to be taken if a not guilty plead (bullshit as that rule is) won't be accepted!", Annie declared out loud, so loud that all could hear.

Peter was in awe: THIS was the same girl who NEVER told her father what she felt? How had she changed so much so soon? Was this what leaving Marsh Pond did to you?

Swampbeard, frustrated and annoyed, stepped up to the girl menacingly, and Wrecker nearly blew up with anger. "DON'T YOU TOUCH HER!"

"Shut up, old man!", Swampbeard shot ironically, before lifting Anne by the throat, the poor girl choking. "What do you mean?", he asked, dark and enraged, tightening the hold.

"That… Is… A… Freakishly… Strong… Arm…"

"Thanks, I lift."

Annie, turning even more purple, pointed at the book she was still holding and sputtered out "A… Battle… For… A… Life…"

Dropping Annie onto the stage, the frog girl rushed towards Wrecker, who had broken out of the pillory from concern, the wooden trap now lying broken in half on the stage. The two frogs embraced, Annie crying and Wrecker close to tears as well. "How's your neck?", Annie asked, scared, voice trembling.

"Who cares?! How's your neck?!", Wrecker asked.

"…I care."

"…I know."

While the two hugged, and Peter looked on at this with wonder, Swampbeard read the book and seethed with anger. The words danced on the page, mocking him.

"The book does say that…", a pirate commented, and the citizens all murmured in agreement, taking out their copies and nodding their heads. How come Swampbeard hadn't taken his out was the question on their lips, but Swampbeard silenced their concerns. He knew that he couldn't break the rule…

"Looks like I'll just have to wait a bit longer for my revenge…", Swampbeard muttered under his breath, before picking Wrecker and Annie, who didn't let go of each other, and threw them onto the floor.

Spreading his arms wide, he addressed the gathering with total authority. "LADIES AND GENTLEMEN! TONIGHT, AT THE ARENA, I WILL FIGHT THE CRIMINAL HIMSELF AND FINISH THIS OFF ONCE AND FOR ALL! UNTIL THEN, HE AND HIS "PRECIOUS" DAUGHTER WILL HAVE TIME TO SAY GOODBYE, UNLESS, IMPOSSIBLE AS THAT IS, HE WINS AND ESCAPSE WITH HIS LIFE FOR NOW!"

Staring down at Wrecker, he grinned maliciously, and Wrecker sighed, accepting his fate. For years he'd been waiting for judgment. Of course, when it finally came, he was afraid!

As he turned to see Annie walk off, though, she smiled. Wrecker knew what he had to do. He just hoped he wouldn't fail as usual.

"Also…", he muttered, walking out of the court area, and onto the bustling cold streets of Swamp City, "I better keep an eye out for that Peter. She isn't old enough for dating, and I there are no parents to talk with over mating rituals."

Wrecker however soon forgot to be parental, since his eyes locked instead on the state of the citizens at the city: It was the same as it was 31 years ago. Their clothes were still tattered, their stomachs were still more bone than skin, and their eyes were sunken in pain.

Wrecker knew that pain all too well.

Turning again, he suddenly saw the fishmongers, and a good place to start a bonfire, alongside a lovely source of swamp water.

Wrecker nodded determinedly, a small smile pursed on his lips. He also knew how to solve said pain…

"So, how do you like your lettuce? Raw, or disgusting?", Houdini asked, letting out a friendly bellow of laughter, as he gave Grime a plate with lettuce on a slice of bread, and Grime, ignoring the jab, took the plate and nodded appreciatively, while the former sat down next to him.

The two were still on the ship's deck, Grime having just finished all his ship work (and feeling the pain, but also the appreciation of hard word), Houdini setting his fishing line baited with money towards the fishmonger's carts, eyeing one particular tassled anglerfish quite hungrily. A cold, sea wind breezed quite nicely, and Grime, feeling comfortable in his seating position, began eating his meal.

Houdini, lowering his hook, asked without looking "So, how come yer won't share with me this delicious looking anglerfish? I means, I canne finish it by meself, but straight to thar hips, ya know?"

Grime sighed. He had had to explain this many times, and it always annoyed him how "weird" everyone thought it was. "I told you, I don't eat things that were once alive."

"Yeah, me memory's not as holey as the wine cellar floor, matey! I mean, WHY do yer not eat things that were once alive?", Houdini asked, turning his head 180 degrees, a questioning look on his face.

Grime was surprised by the question's genuine innocent curiosity. Usually those questions were punctuated with judgment, ridicule, or disbelief. Grime was aware he was different, he didn't need it shoved in his face every time he ate or refused to eat.

But this time, the question felt like it just came from wanting to know him better. Grime couldn't pass up such a chance. He was usually so alone. And Houdini was the first person in a while to make him forget that.

Taking a bite and turning towards Houdini, who was now back to focusing on his fishing, Grime explained his reasoning, wiping some crumbs off of his chin. "Well… Anything that lives has the same feelings as me. Anything that lives has the same thoughts and wants as me. Anything that lives has the same blood as me."

Grime sighed and, crossing his arms, remembered the frogs at the farmer's market. Remembered Alexander The Heron. Remembered the mother beetle. "…What gives me the right to end their lives? To… To use them for my own needs? To… To kill them?"

Houdini listened attentively, as Grime felt the hole in his heart pulsate and send pain signals to his brain. The fishing hook approached the fish, the sharp end glinting and teasing the prey.

In a swift motion, the money taken and the line given a pull to indicate that Houdini could grab his meal, Houdini began to reel in, and the fish was suddenly shot up into the air and onto his already perched on his lap plate.

Finally turning to Grime, an experience and understanding look on his face, he calculated his response carefully. "…So let me ask you this… What's the difference between me and that beetle carcass?"

Grime closed his eyes in shame, and shook his head. "I… I don't see frogs like that."

"Your family sure does.", Houdini commented, and Grime frowned.

"Not all of them. And besides, Marsh Pond was my fault, not theirs."

"Was it? Because according to the only news source on the battle, a "crazy" resistance frog used this bomb of sorts to implode everything.", Houdini retorted, before prodding Grime in the chest with his finger.

"What about the other source? What is your version of the story?"

"…I could have stopped him. I… I SHOULD have stopped him.", Grime answered, the blood on his hands resurfacing. He put down his plate. He wasn't hungry. He didn't want to feel good. He didn't earn it.

Houdini, however, chuckled, and shook his head with humor. "All right, let me understand: You are blaming YOURSELF for that? And I thought I was crazy!"

Grime grumbled, standing up and staring straight at Houdini with all the seriousness he could muster. "Those soldiers died because I failed to stop that man! I killed them… because I'm not good enough!"

Houdini stood up, humor mode off, and he stared at Grime with the same seriousness, just calmer. "Grime… Listen to me…"

"No, YOU listen to ME! I would do anything to get all this… This death to stop! I would LOVE for all this toad superiority bullshit to disappear! But every time I do, people die! I deserve more than these scars!", He shouted, heart in his chest, every face that was gone etched in his memory, toad and frog alike. His forearms were now exposed, showing horrible gashes and lines like broken shards of glass time.

Houdini stepped closer.

Grime didn't budge. "…Some came from battling frogs. Some came from defending them from… From…"

Suddenly, Grime felt a forearm rest on his forearm. He stared wordlessly at the fractured, bruised skin. Lines ran down all over, and one actually seemed to connect as a singular line with his main scar.

"…Heh. A perfect match.", Houdini commented, and he sat down on his bench and sighed.

Grime said nothing. He just stared at his forearm, with a new realization. He blinked slowly, his chest rising up and down like a calm wave.

A minute later, he sat down next to Houdini, and the two said nothing.

They didn't have to say anything.

But Grime did do something he hadn't done in a long time.

He felt better.

"So after he nearly died saving me from the Phantom Pall (real jerk by the way, 0/10 do not recommend), Wrecker and I spent the last two days sword training and stuff until we got here! That's why I have the bandage! And yeah, that's about it!"

Annie had just finished the last of her swamp slushie, and her story, as she and Peter sat on the cold stony desert floor of Swamp City, sandwiched between a weapons cart that had axes dangerously close to their heads and a fishmonger's cart that had smells that were dangerously close to their noses. Peter, who hadn't been able to take a single slurp of his slushie thanks to the shock and surprise of the story, continued to stare at Annie as if she were someone he had never met. Maybe it was because she sort of was, though; Annie Lilypad was a free spirit, but only in secret. And now, here she was, travelling with a former toad soldier, fighting monsters, standing up to the scariest frog he had ever seen!

Peter shivered at all this, an expression of pure anxiety riddled across his face. "Oh my Frog, Annie, how are you still alive? What is your father going to think?"

Peter immediately realized his mistake, and he let out a rapid stuttering apology, tripping on his words. "O F-F-Frog, I am s-s-so s-s-sorry!"

Annie, quickly killing her sniffle with her sleeve, nodded, understanding. She had managed to quell some of the mourning with her talks with Wrecker, but the scar still laid there, and it still hurt. "…It's ok. I just hope my other dad can get through this mess."

Peter was hesitant with his question, but he couldn't help himself. "…You do realize he's not your father, right?"

"I-I have to keep up my cover story or I can't save him!", Annie said, realizing her slip. She was making a lot of those. Did that mean…

"Yeah, but… I saw how you hugged him on that stage."

Annie went silent for a second as she remembered the warmth of the embrace. She hated to admit it, but…

She had never had a better hug.

A deep nose breath, and then she soothed her own hand as she said "…I mean… Well…"

Peter, face scrunched up in worry, stood up and began to pace and rant, which was hard because of how tight their spot was. "Because, like, Annie, this is bonkers! We should be back home, farming and trading goods, making our father's proud, doing what we were made to do, and instead here we are, trapped in a city of maniacs…"

"Hurtful!", a voice called out, and Peter narrowly dodged an axe that hurtled at him.

"You've found a new father who everyone wants to kill and I…"

Peter froze, reality biting hard, and he slumped to the ground, voice quiet and uncertain.

"…All my life I was a merchant. All my life I was the son of Pericles Pimple. If I'm not that, then…"

Peter couldn't even finish the sentence. He just covered his face with his arms, tears seeping into his sleeves. Annie placed a hand on his shoulder, letting her care seep into that.

She looked up at the sky, also lost for words. Feeling the everlasting hug from her parents again, she perked up and, encouragingly, stated "…Well, I lost my dad too. But… But I found a way to keep going."

Peter raised his head, and he had to admit she was right.

Annie looked back at him and smiled her lovely toothy grin. "Maybe we just need to find yours!"

Peter looked into Annie's eyes, and he found them a stark contrast to the grey foggy streets before him. Perhaps the sun could shine on him again.

Perhaps…

"If you two are done kissin' and huggin', you can come and get some food!", Wrecker suddenly called out, and the fog was cut by the thick red blushes on the young adult's faces.

Peter's voice box didn't work, and Annie, completely embarrassed, walked up to Wrecker and whined. "Daaaaad! I don't like him like that!"

Wrecker tried to ignore the sensation of hearing that name, and instead patted her on the head, Annie slumping further. "Look, unless you have a mating arrangement, I would rather you stayed away from love."

Annie couldn't help but rib, as she elbowed his side. "Really? But surely a ladykiller like you has good advice!"

Wrecker let out a small laugh, despite the heartbreak that haunted his life. "Trust me… Falling in love in a non-traditional way is the worst thing you can do. She had better frogs to be with."

"No she didn't.", Annie couldn't help but add, and Wrecker again fought the urge to live forever, instead focusing on his bonfire. Annie, only now noticing the huge bonfire before them, took a big sniff. A smokey, soothing smell hit Annie's nostrils and she hungrily eyed the large ass fish that was being slowly cooked by wrecker, atop a boiling pot of swamp stew.

"Wow, that smells really good!", Annie commented, and she rubbed her rumbling tummy. Peter had to agree, taking a whiff.

"Annie said you're a bad cook.", he uttered, confused.

Wrecker rolled his eyes affectionately as Annie said "Acquired taste, just like the frog himself."

Pretty soon, Wrecker, Annie and Peter weren't alone: A large crowd of Swamp City denziens joined them, curious of the feast and enjoying the scent. It was one heck of a sight for Peter to see how all these previously angry frogs were now greeting Wrecker warmly and advising him on the right way to cook the fish just right. The stew bubbled in the pot, accepting the fish grease but looking still quite appetizing, especially when a local took vegetables from Peter's cart and sliced them inside.

"Wait! Those are mine!", Peter shouted, but Wrecker placed a hand on his shoulder and stopped him gently.

"It's good to go with the flow sometimes. Don't forget that you aren't exactly a trader no more."

Peter had to admit that was true, and he nodded slowly. "…Wish I knew what I was instead."

"How about my helper? I could use an extra hand in the spice selection and roasting, and let's say that Annie has more important things to do.", Wrecker offered, as he and Peter witnessed Annie begin to yammer on about all her art projects.

Peter soon found himself standing next to the intimidating (but now slightly less so) Wrecker, holding out spices for him to choose from. But Peter's eyes were still fixed on how the townspeople had turned so quickly onto Wrecker's side. They were smiling, laughing, joking, even bringing up old stories from when Wrecker had been a Claw of the Wind. Children ran around and laughed, men gossiped, women offered tips…

It was strangely warm and comforting.

But Peter was a logical boy, so he was still confused. "I don't get it. They all hated you 5 minutes ago."

"And they should. I'm not a good frog. But food and love brings people together. In the end of the day, most the citizens of Swamp City are good, poor folk who need some picking up once in a while.", Wrecker explained, and he sighed wistfully as he saw Annie wave wildly to him from another side.

Peter couldn't help but remark. "…She really loves you."

"…I wish she didn't."

Peter looked up and, seeing all the smiles on everyone's faces, smiled softly. "Well… She wouldn't if she didn't have a good reason."

Wrecker said nothing, but he smiled too.

Suddenly, however, as Wrecker observed the happy gathering, the meal being lowered down to be dished out to all those who attended, his eyes locked on Swampbeard, who said nothing but whose intentions were clear. His eyes extended an invitation, and Wrecker accepted it with a movement of his feet, though they hesitated for a moment.

After all, the act of losing a friend forever was not one easily made.

CLINK!

Down the mug went, the echo bouncing off the counter. A flimsy coaster barely swallowed up the drops of rum that dripped from the mugs rim. A dartboard full of axes stayed wedged to the wall to their left, and to their right there was nothing but a measly pool table.

Sitting in a pub, apart in all but distance, sat two frogs.

Wrecker pretended to be invested in his drink, waiting for the inevitable conversation starter. He know how this would end, but he was admittedly curious as to how it would start, and he scratched his back as Swampbeard took a deep breath and, barely looking at his old friend, extended a compliment of sorts. "…I… Me hopes yer cookin's has improved somewhat."

Wrecker couldn't help a small chuckle. Was everyone he was going to meet joke about his cooking?

Swampbeard's eyes did not part from Wrecker's body. "…The smell is definitely better."

Wrecker sadly couldn't enjoy the smell. He had other things to deal with. "…Well…", he sighed heavily. "I guess some things change."

Swampbeard nodded. "People change."

"Yeah… People like you.", Wrecker finally set his eyes on the pirate, knowing the tides he now drifted on would stop being calm.

Swampbeard grunted and fully turned towards the frog next to him, anger and remorse flickering in his eyes. "Aye… But you and I both know why."

"All I know is that I am on trial for something I didn't do… And we both know what you did."

Swampbeard leaned over towards Wrecker, his beard touching Wrecker's face, his breath landing too. "I did… What I had to do."

"No. No you didn't. You lied. You stole. And you cheated these poor people."

"Just like the world has from day one!", Swampbeard shouted, slamming his hand on the countertop, the mug shattering and the shards sticking to Swampbeard's hand.

His eyes betrayed his rage, but Wrecker did not shout back, for he knew that Swampbeard's rage was not without reason.

The words stuck in his throat, before tumbling out like leaves from a tree. "I was a criminal the moment I was born, because I had made the stupid decision of being a Frog. I was a liar in my parent's eyes, for I dared to question their methods, and I got scars in return. I was a thief to my employers, because I dared to oppose their unfair treatement of my brothers and sisters."

He stood up and his full size was apparent over Wrecker's, excitement almost on his face. "Remember? When we first met? Yee said what I'd always thought! The world keeps kicking you down… Have I not had me fair share of suffering? Why is this wrong? Finally…"

A tear rolled down his eye. "Finally I'm… At the top. Safe. A steady sea. A perfect world."

"Won by deception. You steal from everyone now."

"What choice do I 'ave?!", Swampbeard bellowed, and Wrecker stood up and stared him straight in the eye.

"There's always a choice!"

Wrecker fought his tears too, but his heart bled for the pirate. "…You were my friend… But now you're just a thief."

"Better than a killer.", Swampbeard snarled with a whisper.

Wrecker said nothing, but shame overfilled him as Swampbeard nodded with an evil grin. "News travels fast… Even here, matey."

Swampbeard sat down and, an almost sympathetic yet still angry look on his face, continued. "And I know without you telling me that it was to save a life. See… That's the funny thing."

He laughed darkly, sending a shiver down Wrecker's spine. "You're still on stage after all these years, wearing a self made mask of darkness… And you'll die… Never knowing how wrong you were."

Wrecker sighed. He had no words.

"…I've waited so long to kill you. There's nothing I want more than revenge."

Suddenly, a hand outstretched and Wrecker saw real, true tears in Swampbeard's eyes, and a prayer in his heart. "…Except for this."

Wrecker was startled, but he kept a still mind as Swampbeard explained. "You were my friend. You are… The only one who understands me. And believe it or not… I truly did love yee."

Wrecker saw the wish in the wind, but he could not grant it. Deep down, something…

Someone…

Told him to do what was right.

"I've missed you too… But you're not here. Not anymore."

Getting off his chair, Wrecker took a deep breath and stared out at Annie, who was enjoying her meal very much, eyes closed in joy, a smile spread on her lips.

"But someone else is here. Someone I have to help. I have to do One. Good. Thing."

He turned back to Swampbeard, who slowly accepted the rejection, allowing his darkness to finally unfold him. "…I'd rather be a dead frog… Than a bad one."

"Well then… You better come on time for tonight.", Swampbeard said, accepting fate.

Wrecker, however, took one last stab at it. "…You can kill me when I've saved her."

Swampbeard however suddenly stuck his face right up to Wrecker and smiled a smile that would never leave Wrecker's nightmares. "…Why should I… When seeing your face when you realize you couldn't even save her… Would be SO much more enjoyable?"

Swampbeard left, his towering hulking mass shaking the floor, while Wrecker slowed down his racing heart and braced his knuckles.

He had to save Annie. He had to.

"…I have to."

(Davy Jones Theme – Hans Zimmer – Pirates of the Caribbean)

The candle light flickered and a drop of oil went down the candle's neck and onto the table cloth, but they didn't mind. Their cards decks were firmly held to their chins, though Houdini held his a little higher. The soft sound of crickets chirping echoed across the ship's halls, and the gentle sway that made it feel like they were sailing on the sea was almost comforting.

"Full House! Nice! Very good move.", Houdini chuckled, and he began shuffling the cards. The two weren't betting on anything, just enjoying a friendly game, something Grime wasn't used to, but he was a fast learner. "I must be getting rusty, I haven't had anyone to play poker with since I let Mog's crew."

Grime smiled at Houdini, as he watched him deal out the cards. The warmth that had taken place in Grime's heart just would not leave.

However, a question refused to leave too. As he removed 3 cards, and saw Houdini adopt his best poker face, he offered his quarry.

"Why DID you leave Mog's crew?"

Houdini let out a dark chuckle, as he lowered his deck for a second and stared straight into Grime's eyes. His eyes flickered like the candle, as he seemed to consider something.

Finally, he put the deck back up and told his story, as the two removed cards and added to their bets, Grime listening attentively.

"…Well, it was 11 years ago. Mogs had landed in his largest pickle yet. He had a tendency for those.", Houdini laughed again, and he leaned back on his chair a bit, his old bones creaking nearly as much as the floor.

"This time, however, I wasn't interested in seeing how it ends. Mugs was a friend…", he added wistfully, before turning grim. "But I wasn't going to sacrifice my happiness for a fool's errand."

Grime nodded, even though he disagreed with the sentiment. If Wrecker had needed his help, he would have helped. But he was in no position to judge, so he didn't.

"So, what happened then?", Grime asked, as he barely glanced at his cards.

"Well, after I created an exit for myself, I went back to Swamp City with my scrap of the treasure Mogs had collected over the years. Unfortunately it was unrightfully stolen from me."

Grime tried to ignore the irony of a pirate complaining about being robbed from and asked "Well, how did you get the little treasure you have now? There must be a reason those pirates were thieving you before!"

"Well, I'm getting there!", Houdini laughed at Grime's excitement, and he pressed on.

"Now, here I am: No gold, no home, a wanted pirate. How can I ever get by? Thankfully, an arrest warrant found its way to me. Some toad had gone berserk."

Grime was surprised by this. Surely he would have heard of this! Still, he knew Houdini was more knowledgeable than him, so he kept his mouth shut.

"I tracked her down to the Pall Forest, where she lurked, destroying trees and scaring the insects away."

Houdini's face flashed fear, and he recoiled. "She was horrifying. I still remember her face as she lashed out at me, instantly breaking my arm."

"Kick after scratch after kick after scratch, the beast had me on my knees. I was seeing my life flash before my eyes. I… I would die a failure."

"I know how that feels.", Grime remarked, but there was a twist to the tail.

"Ah, but you see: You always lose when you adopt the mask of failure. Convince the world, and even yourself, that you can do it, and well… Look at me now! I was able to wrestle control back. I struck with vim and with vigor. And in the end, I emerged victorious."

Grime was fascinated. He made it seem so easy. And then Houdini placed his cards down. "Royal Flush. See? You must believe the lie. Or else you'll never make it a truth."

Grime smiled at the now satisfied frog. If only he could be like that!

"If only you were looking for my friend.", Grime said, and Houdini shook his head.

"Why should I, when you will FIND him instead?", Houdini encouraged, and the two continued to laugh the hours away before Grime would embark on his journey.

Grime still felt the warmth that was so odd to his heart.

"I could get used to this.", he thought with a smile.

(Hurt – Johnny Cash – Instrumental)

"Ladies and gentlefrogs, take your seats in the auditorium! In 5 minutes, you will witness what we Swampers do to traitors!", A voice called out from a megaphone, but it didn't have to; A crowd of spectators had long since gathered outside the auditorium, elbowing each other for space, still enjoying dishes of the roast fish the "traitor" had made for them as they prepared to see him meet his end.

Wrecker sat in the dressing room, back to the entrance, surrounded with his discarded costume and his doubts. His face…

No. It wasn't his face. He hadn't earned it.

…Right?

Staring back into the mirror, two faces staring at one mirror, Wrecker wondered which was the mask and which was his soul. For so long, he had been sure he was the monstrous Wrecker his father had talked about, but something felt different.

Perhaps it was because for once, he was innocent: He truly hadn't committed the crime they accused him of. He wasn't guilty of betrayal.

Just of failing.

Failing his family, his village, his people. Failing in every single area.

"I can't fail Annie.", he thought for the millionth time, but what difference would it make? What good would it do?

He knew that it was a privilege, but he also knew that death was his intended destination.

Wrecker sighed wearily, staring back at the face he never could own, staring back at the frog he wished he could be. "I guess it's hard to fight for your life when you don't think you deserve it."

His lips trembled but his resolve strengthened. "I know… I want to rest too. But Annie needs us. Can't I at least do that? Surely…"

He shed tears as he whispered. "Surely there's some good in me."

Wrecker wished. He wished with all his might.

Looking around him, the boxing gloves on the desk before him, the mirror that reflected his innermost fears, the audience anticipating him…

It felt like a stage.

A small, hopeful idea rose to his mind. Using his hands, he forced on a smile, and made himself stare at his real face. He smiled with all his might, heart pounding, and he said "…I AM good. I AM good."

But it felt fake. He was never a good actor after all.

Sadly… He couldn't change it just like that.

Tears streaked down and Wrecker sighed gravely, accepting fate.

He was still a Wrecker. And while he would fight to the death for Annie…

"It's all I'll ever be. It's all I ever can be.", he said, shoving the mask back down tight.

Staring back, was the monster he was sure he was. His fists clenched. He wanted to scream…

But he was too tired.

"I just want to get this over with. Please… Whoever is up there… Just let me save her. Just let me do right by her."

He shivered from the cold, eyes shut in pain. "Please…".

Suddenly, footsteps could be heard, and Wrecker quickly put on the rest of his costume, now a lot taller, as Peter walked in.

This was a surprise to both: Wrecker would have thought Annie would visit him (which only made him sadder), while Peter would never have thought he would visit someone like that.

But that was life wasn't it? It's unexpected.

And sometimes, it manages to uncover surprises even about yourself.

Peter stood there for a while, and Wrecker, feeling shameful as ever, refused to look. His heart only had one thought anyway.

"…Is Annie safe?"

"She couldn't bare to see you. She's sure… You'll succeed. But she's afraid."

A pang of guilt struck Wrecker. "She shouldn't be. I wouldn't be a loss."

"…You would be for her."

Peter was not a brave frog. He routinely got scared from everything and everyone. He had spent a very significant amount of his life cowering under the covers, and he had learned all about the merchant trade because he was too afraid to say that he wanted to be something else.

And seeing this large, slightly terrifying frog… Well, it disconcerted Peter.

But something (read: Annie's belief) made him decide to try and encourage the frog before him. For Annie's sake…

But also maybe for Wrecker's sake.

Sitting down on the other chair in the dressing room, as Wrecker continued to sit, silent and solemn, wishing Annie's faith wasn't misplaced, Peter cleared his throat and changed the subject somewhat.

"Kind of feels like an actor's dressing room."

Wrecker nodded, a small reminiscent smile on his lips. "It does. You ever act before?"

Peter laughed, blushing. He held himself close. "I wish! I'm scared of the dark, silk cows, mildly threatening looking blades of grass! I could never conquer stage fright!"

"Huh. That was never my problem, actually.", Wrecker commented, turning around to the boy. He seemed almost nostalgic now, fitting for a frog heading to potentially deadly doom.

"What was then?"

"Besides stinking more than a dung beetle?", Wrecker joked, and the two shared a laugh, which warmed up the atmosphere. Wrecker sighed and humbly explained. "I just… Never could do it right."

Wrecker face shifted with understanding yet regret, as he thought of his years on the stage, reciting his words at eyes that glared and prodded and wondered, trying to deliver a message without breaking the illusion. "My problem wasn't the crowd. It was me. Acting is all about lying to your audience. I just couldn't play my roles, because they depended on my selling to people I was a hero."

A dark chuckle emitted from his throat, but the tears still stuck to his voice box. "…I've done a lot of bad shit. But I can't lie. Especially about myself."

Peter scrunched up his face with disagreement. Not just because of his theatrical philosophy, but because…

Wiping his mouth from the last bits of fish, Peter stepped closer to Wrecker and adopted his bravest voice, unused to telling someone they were wrong. "Well… May I introduce my school of thought?"

Wrecker laughed and pretended to present a stage. "Go ahead! I'm always interested in new theories!"

Peter smiled, a little shocked. He wasn't used to ears that tuned to his frequency. "Well, um… When I was little, my…"

He choked back a sob. "My father…"

Wrecker placed a comforting hand on Peter's shoulder, understanding immediately.

Peter silently thanked him. "…Marsh Pond hosted many theatre groups. As merchants and Marsh Pondians, he was super busy, and so was I. So we didn't have much time to spend together."

A ghost of a smile appeared on his face, and Peter felt a song in his heart. "He was always tired, but not when we went to see that play. It was called "A Redundant Refund"."

"Ah, yes! I know that one! Wartsford?", Wrecker asked, unsure.

"Close! His rival across the pond, Blubspear!"

"Ah, yes!", Wrecker replied, and he motioned for Peter to carry on.

"Well, anyway… The play is about a frog who owns a store, and is always afraid that he will cheat his customers by accident, 'cause he's always making mistakes."

"Yeah, I remember! He spends the whole play chasing down a woman who overpayed him, and commits many great deeds along the way, only to find out he had miscalculated, and she had not been cheated at all!", Wrecker said, laughing. "There were a lot of great one liners in that one! Great lighting, too!"

"Agreed! But… The reason I liked it was because… Well, I was afraid of that too. I was afraid I'd hurt someone by cheating on them by accident. I was a real… Klutz back home. And I spent years panicking over anything."

"I can relate to that.", Wrecker replied soothingly.

"But that's the thing: When I saw it, it made me realize… Perhaps I was like the main character. Perhaps I was… Punishing myself for something I didn't do. Perhaps, like him… I was a lot better than I thought."

Wrecker laughed, dismissing the notion. "My boy, that's a lovely sentiment. And I'm sure it's true of you. But sadly, most people aren't like that."

Wrecker turned sour as he remarked "…Some of us try to do good all their lives… But they always manage to screw it up."

He turned his back on the boy, and Peter, refusing to relent, decided to impart his message in a different way. "…You know… Annie trusts you. You might think she has no reason to… But she does. And for that, she'd need to truly think you are good."

"…And what makes you think she's right? Who's to say I'm not doing this to ease my conscious?", Wrecker countered, gritted teeth. He was such a selfish monster. Sure, he did it because he loved Annie…

But did he deserve the redemption that carried?

Peter raised his courage, stood up, and began to walk out, fighting his fear of saying the wrong thing. "…I don't know. All I know is that this "treacherous" frog who killed a freedom fighter to save a toad's life, is risking it all for this person he just met, and feeding the crowd who wants his head on a pike. I'm used to being wrong… But I think I might be on the button here."

Wrecker said nothing for a moment, before, in a quiet and pleading voice…

"…Please make sure Annie is safe, and reaches Wartwood Town. I'd rather die failing than have her suffer one second more."

"…Case in point."

Peter left, and Wrecker was left to digest those final remarks, as the time drew to a close before his fate would be sealed.

He didn't know what to think. And for a moment he was afraid of what was out there.

But then he thought of Annie.

With not a second more of hesitation, he walked out into the auditorium to meet his destiny.

(Immigrant Song – Led Zepplin)

The roars of the crowd nearly deafened him as he entered the auditorium, but they were nothing compared to the boos and the jeers. Like a beetle stampede the sounds were everywhere and nowhere, venom and acid in their spitting, their eyes burning with passion, such a stark contrast to the simple greetings of before. Some even held signs asking for his death, which to be fair was a staple of boxing arena in Amphibia.

Red gloves that would only get redder stuck by his body as he marched up to his public execution by popular sport, and Wrecker couldn't help but feel how fitting it all was: Hundreds of eyes waiting for his failure as he vainly tried to be more than a Wrecker.

Still, his feet almost froze as he finally reached the ring, the announcer's declaration of his name and of his weight barely reaching his ears. "The ropes bend easily. Probably what my back will be doing soon.", he thought, dark humor sadly not providing respite.

Wrecker gulped, his chest tightened. Once he was past those ropes and on the ring… There was no turning back. Not from the past, or from his punishment.

"Well… I can't stand here all day.", Wrecker roused up his courage, and he stepped in the ring, ready to face the ugly truth. "I can hardly complain; I HAVE been asking for this.", Wrecker admitted with a small laugh. It was funny how he both feared yet wished for the end. He wondered if that's how everyone felt about death: Dreaded anticipation.

Feet firmly on the mat, Wrecker turned around and around to face the audience, who continued to heckle and jeer, faces painted in red and green, the colors of Swampbeard's flag and coat. The seats were overflowing with naysayers.

All except for two: Peter, who was nervously observing the giant frog with an axe strapped to him in a baby carrier, whose bucket of popcorn seemed to be full of skulls, and Annie, who, while fear and worry coated her eyes, flashed a thumbs up at Wrecker.

Wrecker's temporary stage fright subsided, and, smiling softly, he flashed a thumbs up back. Just seeing her made him feel stronger and more prepared for the challenge ahead.

But then Swampbeard began entering and Wrecker realized he wasn't even close to ready.

While the ring had been shaking heavily before thanks the noise of the crowd, the lion's den had been opened up now, and the entrance of Swampbeard from stage left, combined with the now tenfold stronger cheers from the onlookers made the whole auditorium itself jump from the sheer volume.

The sound itself would have made most frogs run, but then came the sight, and Wrecker actually felt himself shake a bit in fright. He wasn't a brave frog, but he had experience, and had fought enough battles to numb the screams that reverberated in his mind, but this was something else: It was as if Swampbeard had cast a spell to enlarge himself, for what once was a tower now felt like a mountain! Lofty legs brought down fleshy feet onto the ground, causing cracks to the tiled floor. Astronomical arms beat on brobdingnagian biceps, like some kind of gorilla (which was weird, since those weren't available on Amphibia). The humongous hands that had turned to king sized knuckles now parted the ropes like they were elastic bands, and with a resounding BOOM a husky and hulking head let out a roar that almost ripped the roof off of the auditorium and also sent Wrecker into an inner frenzy. This was the scariest shit he'd ever seen.

"Yes, doctor? I'd like a second opinion.", he quipped, before finding a referee who was carrying a heft wallet bring him towards his somehow larger opponent.

"I want a fair fight, all right? No hits under the belt, except against those under trial, no kicks or head butts, they're only given to traitors, and if your name isn't Wrecker, cheating is TOTALLY ok!", the ref announced before running off like crazy and juggling large bags of gold.

"I guess we're not giving out fair play awards.", Wrecker joked to himself, trying to delay the pain just a bit more.

"But I am giving you a last chance.", Swampbeard whispered, Wrecker staring into his belly button. A hand was barely out of reach.

It stayed that way.

"Very well! LET JUSTICE PREVAIL!", Swampbeard charged, pounding the ground thanks to Wrecker's quick thinking and reflexes.

Wrecker was on the left side of the ring, but the impact of the pound could still be felt, his hood swirling now from the gust of wind that swept the premises. Looking up from the mat onto the behemoth, Wrecker could see him winding up for another pound, instead of a kick, which from this position would have been easier. Sensing an advantage, Wrecker rolled to the middle to evade another pound, and, using the gust of wind, turned weightless to be lifted by it so he could leave a good pow on Swampbeard's face.

The move worked and Swampbeard, blinking in irritation, send a sweeping hand to slap Wrecker onto the right sided ropes, but Wrecker timed his jump and, leaping backwords, narrowly evaded the swipe, but not before imparting a small blow on Swampbeard's face and left arm.

"WHOO! YES! IN YOUR FACES!", Annie cheered, her voice getting gravelly for a second. She shook her butt at the audience and went wild, elation painted on her face.

"Annie, I would recommend we DON'T voice our thoughts TOO loudly." Peter hated being the voice of caution here, but he was still afraid, especially with that axe dangling close to his head, and that was WITHOUT pissing the tall frog off.

Wrecker couldn't help but smile at Annie's cheers, but he had to turn back quickly to Swampbeard or he would be demolished.

Sadly, Wrecker didn't turn back QUITE quickly enough, and Swampbeard managed to slap down on him hard, sending Wrecker back to the ropes behind him and making him dizzy.

Wrecker was now truly afraid: Just one whack from his rival and the blood was already rushing to his head, making him feel faint. His noses felt like it had a gash on it, and his eyes were sunken black. How could he win?

"No, no, I have to win!", Wrecker tried to motivate himself, and he began to adopt a more careful approach, running around the ring instead of facing Swampbeard head on.

This strategy however made Swampbeard cackle and mock his opponent, as running circles around him wasn't exactly doing anything. Spittle flew in the wind as he laughed. "Running away as ever, eh?!"

Wrecker was panting and heaving, his bones creaking and his legs feeling like weights. "How is he not getting worn out?!", Wrecker wondered aloud, and Annie was beginning to get worried, fear and anger dancing the tango in her eyes.

"Running from your family… Your Village… Your people…"

Each failure was punctuated with a barely missed strike that made Wrecker's heart pound and his lungs leap to his chest. He couldn't run much longer, and his heart was as heavy as his potential loss.

"It's time you faced the MUSIC!", Swampbeard cried, and with a leap he sent to fists down onto the mat, causing the whole ring to bounce down and a tired and startled Wrecker to fly up to the air.

As Wrecker did, time seemed to slow down. He felt his whole body almost tear like tissue paper as Swampbeard rose back up to and snarled at him.

The will to give up was almost drowning him, but a name still graced his lips.

"You ran away like me. We're the same. But I can't fail that girl.", Wrecker said, but belief was deflating. He totally could fail her, he never succeeded. Everything he tried failed. Even with the best of intentions, how could Wrecker ever be more than a wrecker? Even that angel wasn't exempt from his cruelty.

Swampbeard let out a dark chuckle and he grinned evilly. "Oh, but Wrecker… We're not the same. You convinced yourself for so long that you wore a mask of evil, that you lost your true face. You're not secretly or secretly good. You're just…"

He whispered the knife that stabbed Wrecker. "…A failure."

And then the knife twisted his innards as he stared for a moment at Annie and heard her cheer her lungs out.

"LOOK OUT, DAD!", She screamed out to him, anger flashing in her face, but it was too late.

Wrecker's eyes welled up with tears, and his heart got caught in his throat. Time stopped and all he could see was her. Her fear stricken face begging for him in vain to come through. What he would have given to do so. Just once. Just for her.

"…She really does love me, huh?", he voiced quietly, his knuckle opening up in surrender.

He closed his eyes in pain, guilt stabbing him in the chest further. "I'm sorry, Annie. But I couldn't be your dad. I'm just… A wrecker."

Like that, time resumed and Wrecker got pounded down to the floor, his palms open on the mat to the sides and his face bloodied and bruised as Swampbeard landed, causing a shockwave across the stage, before resorting to smashing his face over and over again, one hard hit after another.

Wrecker was getting more and more broken, and his mask would surely tear off soon. He had to react, but he was so weak… And rest was so close… And he deserved far worse than this…

Surely no one would miss him…

Surely this was for the better…

"I ALWAYS KNEW YOU WERE A FAILURE! YOU CAN'T EVEN DO ONE GOOD THING!", Swampbeard screamed as he wrecked the Wrecker, and Annie, tears streaming down her face, was done with being useless.

Leaping off her seat, she began to run down to save Wrecker, her sword hoisted, Peter screaming for her to come back.

Another punch and another punch and Wrecker, closer and closer to death, praying for Annie's safe passage, began to see flashes of his life run past his eyes.

And at first it was the bad stuff: His parent's abuse, his near sale to slavery, Wartwood burning, his killing of that frog, aiding pirates, shouting at Annie.

It made him yearn even more for death.

But suddenly, just like that, kinder, more positive images surfaced from the depths of his mind: His helping the Swampians back then and today, making sure his snail would stay safe in Wartwood, protecting Grime all those years, saving his life from that same frog he killed. Small acts of kindness towards the other pirates, Peter, the Swampians rushed in, and Wrecker felt the genuiness of each moment. He had given a lot, more than he remembered, and it all felt so odd, so wrong, yet…

Annie filled his thoughts: He had fed her, protected her, listened to her, trained her. They had laughed together, slept by each other, embraced each other. He knew he truly cared for her.

And perhaps… Perhaps he truly cared for the others.

Could it be… Could it be that he HAD done more than one good thing? Could it be that he could finish this one, and save Annie?

Could it be…

That there was still time?

Swampbeard, feeling victory close, roared with disgust and shouted out "SO WHY DON'T YOU TAKE OFF THAT FUCKING MASK AND FINALLY TELL ME WHO YOU ARE?!"

Wrecker could hear Annie approaching.

He was so tired…

But he made a promise.

And he was good enough to keep it.

POW!

(The last 25 seconds or so of The Baby – Ludwig Gorranson)

The biggest resounding punch in the history of Amphibia sounded across the auditorium and the previously roaring crowd went silent in shock as a giant tooth wedged itself into the side of the room.

Swampbeard could barely turn his face back before he got smacked again, and before he knew it, Wrecker took advantage of his biggest weakness, the frog putting two and two together.

Using Swampbeard's dizziness, he slid down and took out his legs, which looked like tree trunks but were always unbalanced, and down he went onto the mat.

While his rage nearly made him continue, Wrecker decided not to beat the snot out of Swampbeard.

But he did step up to him and, realizing the crowd around him was silent, and remembering Peter's words, decided to really open people's eyes.

His included.

"You wanna know I am? I'm a frog who made nothing but the worst decisions."

He looked around the room, Annie looking awe struck from just outside the ring. Everyone was listening, even Swampbeard sort of. Wrecker closed his eyes, and spoke softly bur firmly, like he was convincing himself more than anyone.

"I don't deny those mistakes, like some of us. I am fully aware that my choices have led me down a dark path. It doesn't matter what was done to me, it is up to me on what I do next. On what we all do."

He stood tall as he addressed, his confidence growing bolder. "The past is already scripted, but the present and future have not yet been written down. The curtain still waits to draw on the rest of this show that is life."

"And it is us who choose how this play ends. Some of us let the pain, the prologue, turn us into monsters…"

Wrecker looked at Swampbeard with sympathy, despite everything.

"Some of us are still dangling by a thread…", he continued, pointing at the crowd, who all looked a little shameful.

Wrecker then looked at Annie, and he smiled. Not just any smile, but a smile that healed his bones and made his face lighter. A smile that released some of the never ending tension from his mind.

"…And some of us… Are still finding their way."

He closed his eyes and took in a breath, as he lived for the first time in 40 years.

"…But for the first time in forever… I feel like I can."

He turned to Swampbeard and picked him up by the throat, his words full of meaning and determination, his will to save Annie and maybe even change stronger than ever. For the first time in forever, it felt like there was a chance. A chance for him.

"All the world's a stage. And we choose the roles we play. And if I can still do good, even if just for her…"

He tightened his grip and resolve, and grinned.

"…Then I'm not bowing out yet."

(The Tusken Camp and the Homestead – John Williams – Attack of the Clones)

"Here's a map, the train station can't be missed after a day's boatride. There are supplies in the knapsack, and I even gave you all my lettuce!", Houdini joked, as Grime hoisted his gathered supplies in a rather large and overfilled backpack. It was near midnight, and Grime was already a day behind, so he had to catch up fast.

The captain's quarters suddenly felt a lot smaller, and Grime looked up Houdini with gratitude and respect as the old pirate continued his explanation. A candle dripped oil on the table behind them. The wooden floors squeaked.

"The train might be delayed, so you won't necessarily miss your friend."

Grime felt the heavy backpack weigh on his shoulders, but his heart held a heavier weight. "Are you… Are you sure I don't need more?"

Houdini's face held a playful smile and he winked. "You have everything you need right here.", he said, pointing at Grime's heart. Grime practically beamed, and, staring as an equal, offered his hand.

"I know we knew each other for only a day, but I hope our paths will cross once more."

Houdini chuckled and heartily shook back, his grip firm and strong. "Likewise, matey. Likewise."

A feeling of unity, of brotherly strength engulfed the duo, and, with a heavy heart, but a stronger hope, Grime let go and began to leave, the key ring he was to use to leave the ship dangling teasingly from his side pocket. It's light was the only one provided for a while, as the halls of Houdini's home were dark, and void.

Truthfully, this was to preserve candles elsewhere, and Houdini didn't have any lights installed, but it made travailing the area hard, and Grime found himself bumping into walls, side cabinets, doorways and door knobs. Add in the luggage, and it was getting tiring!

Thankfully, Grime seemed to reach the end of the hall. He was sure this was the exit! He had never really seen the exit, but this seemed to be it! Jimming the doorknob, he remembered the key ring and stuck one key after the next till the door creaked open eerily, sending a shiver down his spine. But at least it was open!

Grime slowly walked in, but instead of sandy wet stone he stepped on another fine silk carpet. This was another room, albeit one with light splashing away the inky night. Grime considered turning around when suddenly his eyes caught a window, which provided the light. "Perfect!", Grime thought, and he decided to get down from there.

But as he stepped slowly towards the window, each step providing a creak of the woodwork, his eyes travelled down towards the desk he would have to stand on to get out, and there he spotted a diary.

Its spine was a dark purple, with a skull and crossbones painted on the cover, but he would never learn that, for the book was already open.

Grime didn't want to look at the words, he wanted to respect the privacy of his generous host. But instinctively his eyes trailed down, just as the wind swept the book a few more pages backwords, and he caught a word that made him stop dead in his tracks.

"No, that… That can't be! Silly Grime, you must be seeing things!", he said in denial, but curiosity had officially gotten him, and he lifted the book just in case to see if he was right, stepping off the desk and into the page that laid bare a secret.

The word was there, plain as sight, but Grime had to read it over 3, 4, no 10 more times before he could truly comprehend it, but it was there.

"Lily".

And sure, there were many Lily's in the world.

But only one had the last name Toad.

"…Could this reveal what truly happened to my mother?", Grime asked himself, hope that laid itself buried for years peaking out of the dirt and rushing head first into the sky. For years Grime had prayed that perhaps his mother had escaped! Houdini was a pirate, he knew about mysterious things like that! Perhaps she disappeared like that Mugs did all those years ago!

Grime knew it was foolish, but his heart rarely listened to his brain. Hope, love, peace… They could still exist.

His mother could still be alive.

He quickly read through the other lines, seeing the date coincide with the one his mother disappeared. Things seemed to be clicking together!

He turned the page to find the details of the day, but suddenly, slowly slowly, the words turned confusing. Strange. The words said things, but… No, they couldn't make sense!

Grime's pupils diluted and his heart pounded as he kept reading, doubt and fear banging like drums in his mind. The more he read, the less he could hear, his head almost becoming white noise. The room seemed to be turning red. It didn't make sense, but it was there, black on white.

It coincided. It was logical. It made sense. It couldn't be a lie.

No matter how much he wanted it to be.

Finally, Grime finished reading.

He shivered for a bit, his mind drowning, his heart stopping. He froze. He turned around.

Footsteps like thunder crashed the other way, the halls lack of light nary a problem. He only heard his own scream of rage as he ran into the room. He only felt his hands on the throat when it was too late. He only saw properly again when the deed was done.

(Davy Jones Theme – Hans Zimmer – Pirates of the Caribbean)

"…I thought you might find out. I mean… I was hinting at it before, I couldn't help myself.", Houdini said with an evil smile, his words coming out in chokes from his crushed throat, as he laid in Grime's arms, the toad slowly realizing what was happening, but still blinded with rage and grief.

Houdini laughed slowly and chillingly, and he muttered the words to the shanty from that noon.

"Come all ye young frogs that follows the sea…" (for I was one once).

"Yo ho… Blow the toad down!" (self explanatory).

"Now please, pay attention, and listen to me…" (little joke there for you).

"Yo Ho… Blow the toad down!" (see above).

"I'm a deep water sailor, just come from Froguslie Bog" (poor frog slums, my boy. They do somethin' to ya).

"Yee give me some gold, I'll finish 'em and sing ya a song!" (Got handsomely paid for her)

"When a trim black ball liner tired me of sea" (as I said, I got tired of the pirate life).

"I flocked to the shore and bid farewell to thee"

"When a travel worn sailor is encountering thee"

"You'd do yourself wise to be careful of me!"

He laughed again. "That was a warnin' to ya."

"And the story… The monster…", Grime pieced it together, tears filling his eyes, red hot rage mixing with pure loss.

"Yes… She went down easily. And so did I."

Houdini knew his moments were numbered, and now so did Grime, who began realizing what he had done.

"…You killed my mother.", Grime barely articulated, his voice shaking with pain.

"And now you killed me. You ended a life. Gave judgment that was not yours and, like a god, executed me. I will never walk, or talk, or do anything again, for you chose I can't."

Houdini began to smile wildly, enjoying the shock and fear and shame that crossed Grime's eyes.

"You're a lot like her. But there's some of him there too. And one day, you'll have to choose a role. But for now… For now it's going to be hard to remove that mask of your father. You're a killer, Grime… Just like me. Now… Now let's see if you'll change into a hero… Or a villain."

Houdini stared straight into Grime's eyes, life escaping his eyes. "…What is your role in this story?"

(Anakin's Suffering – Samuel Kim)

Suddenly, the frog laughed, and laughed and laughed, his evil cackle echoing across the valley, and still reverberating in Grime's mind as he stared down at Swamp City from above, a hill top the ground for which his tears crashed down.

"All my life… I wanted to bring peace. All my life I wanted to save Amphibia."

But as Grime turned, towards the river where the boats lay, he began to truly feel that it was too late.

"…I am no hero. I am…"

Grime went to his knees and sobbed so hard he couldn't feel his heart.

"…A monster."

(Iron Man 3 ending scene music – Bryan Taylor)

"So… This is goodbye."

Wrecker extended his hand in warm farewell to the slightly less agitated teen in front of him, as the sounds of boats crossing back and forth across the Lily River filled up the air. The smell of fresh water filled it too, and Wrecker began feeling a little hungry. Luckily he and Annie would have countless hours to fish and enjoy each other's company before… Before their own farewell.

"It is goodbye, but more than one.", Peter replied, with a hint of earned wisdom and gratitude. Wrecker raised his eyebrow in curiosity, but that warm smile was still on his lips, the high of his speech still in his heart. For once, life felt safe, and good.

For once he felt good.

Peter, staring off into the horizon, smiled and said "There's a whole world there to explore. A whole new stage of my life. I may have lost my dad, and my city, but I also lost my job. I have no path but the one I can pave now."

"That can get scary.", Wrecker warned, placing a comforting hand, but Peter laughed it off.

"Well… Good thing I'm used to that feeling."

Before leaving, he suddenly awkwardly embraced Wrecker, the old frog not used to such affection. "Thank you. Your speech… Well, let's say it put a spotlight on my new path."

Wrecker nodded with encouragement. "You go find your role, ok?"

"I will! Maybe I'll even go into acting! I've always been interested!", Peter said, and with one last hearty handshake, he said goodbye to Wrecker and to Annie, before leaping off into the unknown.

Wrecker chuckled and beamed proudly. "Good kid."

He then ruffled Annie's hair and joked "Still not letting you two date."

"DAAAAAAD!", Annie said, half jokingly, with an eye roll and a giggle, as the two boarded their boat, a blue and white vessel with two oars, fishing equipment, and a blanket. It was small, and not too sturdy, but the voyage to the train wouldn't be too hard, especially in comparison to the voyage from the train onwards, not that Wrecker had the bravery to admit it.

"…You know you don't have to… Call me that.", Wrecker said, a twinge of pain in his heart. He had gotten a little used to it, but…

He hadn't earned that, despite everything, in his opinion.

"We're not next to Swampbeard anymore."

Annie, catching her slip, blushed profusely, twiddling her thumbs. "Come on, Annie, he's not!"

…But a lingering thought led to a very shy Annie suddenly scooch up to Wrecker, as they sat on the boat and drifted to sea. She didn't dare look, but as memories of the last few days surfaced, as shame upon failing to defend him appeared, as she felt his warm and protecting hand hold hers and make a silent promise, she said "…But it wouldn't be the end of the world if I... Accidentally did… Right?"

Wrecker, realizing the nature of the question, stared down at the girl, his heart pounding as his speech and her existence enforced a strange new desire, a desire to…

Live?

Annie held back with her hand, tightening the hold, cuddling for warmth, and Wrecker realized they were truly the only people they had.

He didn't deserve it…

But he could play that part for her. Maybe even be that for her.

….Maybe even be good enough for her.

"…No. No it wouldn't be."

Two heads rested on each other, as soothing waves rolled by and a bright sun shone.

The clouds, like a curtain, parted.

A new act began.

Wrecker smiled.

Maybe…

Maybe...

"…Maybe."

(The Medallion Calls – Hans Zimmer – Pirates of the Caribbean)

"Bugger it all.", Swampbeard muttered, as he spent that evening Wrecker left drinking all the rum that was available in the pub. He was battered and bruised, and his position as leader would surely be questioned soon. It was only a matter of time before some upstart challenged him.

He spat on the floor and sighed, triggering the only person sitting beside him, a fish monger named Sal.

He said nothing, and Swampbeard growled as he swigged another round, thinking of the man who betrayed him. "Wrecker… Fuck him."

"Yeah, he and his lot were annoying.", Sal tried to relate, being in the presence of his leader was a little disconcerting. "His little girl too."

"She wasn't little."

"So? No self respecting woman should be walking around excitedly talking about how she's from Marsh Pond, and she loves to use the dead bodies of mosqitues for art, and her last name is Lilypad! Sissy name if you ask me!"

Swampbeard's heart could have stopped. His eyes barely moved but his body did as he turned to Sal and lifted him to his face, before his mouth opened to emit a shocked whisper.

"…Lilypad?"

An hour later, in an all together different pub, outside of Swamp City limits and a day away from the Pall Forest, Swampbeard straddled in and opened the door of the establishment, silencing all who inhabited it, as he approached the bartender.

His fist smashing down on the bar counter, he said "I'm looking for your best thief."

The bartender tipped his head to the left, and a door was opened.

In the dark, one could barely see the figure, but his voice was smooth and buttery, and it sounded in the empty room, boots up on the desk, sword wedged in an open bag of gold.

"Who are you? What do you want from a busy man like me?"

Swampbeard, smashing his fist on the desk, left a picture of a familiar box. "Thanks to a certain train delay, in two days an old frog and a young woman are going to board the engine to Toad Town and Toad Tower."

"I already have a train schedule, thank you very much."

"You also have a job. You see…", Swampbeard grinned as he lifted the image of the box. "They've got the Calamity Box."

Silence, as if it was being digested, before the figure spoke again. "I tend to stay away from matters of toads and the boxes they're obsessed with. You can wind up dead, and I'm a lot more interested in being a very handsome myth."

"How about a very rich one instead?"

The massive treasure chest made a sound as loud as a firecracker, and, taking a moment, the figure revealed his face. Light green shimmering in the dark, dark-purple hair wild and shaggy, a short mustache and a fake goatee.

Tritonio grinned as he lifted his sword. "Well… When do we start?"