Chapter V

A/N: A new chapter for you all! :3 And some new reviews!

Tangent: Nice change up of the Novalis missions!

My Reply: Thanks! Those particular chapters very hard to write, so I'm glad to know I pulled them off well. :3

Bruh . io82: FANFICS FOR THE FANFIC GOD.

My Reply: Uhh... I'm guessing that's a complement, lmao?

"Welcome to the Captain Qwark Fitness Course! If you're strong enough, brave enough, and clever enough to beat my fitness challenge, you will receive a reward from my head trainer. Simply make your way to the third island to complete the course— and gooood luck! Have a Qwarktastic day!

"Qwark enterprises is not responsible for sprains, broken bones, snapped tendons, bruised egos, or accidental death incurred while taking the challenge."

"…"

Both Rivet and Klunk stare speechlessly at the Qwark-bot for several seconds before looking at each other, dead silent.

"I do not think that this is the real 'Captain Qwark," Klunk finally says, his voice dry as ever.

"And… why do you think that is?" Rivet asks, unable to hold back an amused grin. Klunk doesn't see it anyway— he's too busy studying the Qwark-bot to notice.

"I find the fact that he has a spring where his legs should be to be quite puzzling." The little silver bot gestures to the spring in question. "While it is possible he could have lost his legs battling evil, having a spring to replace them would make it extremely inconvenient to perform even everyday tasks. Especially those of the bathroom variety."

"Eww…" Rivet wrinkles her nose in disgust— she really didn't need that imagery. Why'd I have to ask…?

"Additionally, the rest of this impostor's body appears to be lined with chrome. And the eyes are made of pressed Raritanium crystal. The real Captain Qwark is clearly organic, and has none of said features. Therefore, taking all of these facts into consideration, I can only conclude that this—" Klunk waves his hand towards the Qwark-bot once more. "— is not the real Captain Qwark."

Rivet nods in agreement, lips curled into a frown. "Either way, I'd hate to be his lawyer."

"…" Klunk looks over at her, head tilted in confusion. "What do you mean by that?"

"Ahh, never mind." Rivet waves dismissively, turning around. "Let's just go see if we can find the fairgrounds." She hears Klunk huff in annoyance and mutter something about organics being "unnecessarily confusing" before clambering onto her back. The young Lombax sprints down the street, away from the Qwark-bot and his fitness course-thing— and headed for the Ranger tryouts.

Just as she makes her way to the section of the street where the Gadgetron vendor is, a dropship with shiny black chrome swoops in and hovers a couple of feet over the short, squat bridge ahead. There's a hiss, and the door on the back of the dropship lowers— releasing the bulky, heavily armed, jet-pack equipped reptiles inside.

One of them locks onto Rivet with their eerily green eyes. "A Lombax…?" Something on the bracer wrapped around the Blarg soldier's wrist beeps, and, upon glancing down, their eyes widen. "And it has the defect!" They tele-equip an Alpha Disruptor, as do their fellow troopers— and then point the weapons directly at her. "Give it up, space rat, and we'll make it painless. Mostly. You have nine-and-a-half seconds to comp—"

Rivet tele-quips one of her Dual Raptors, aims it at the fuel tank of one of the soldiers' jet-packs, and pulls the trigger. The fiery round hits its mark before any of the trigger-happy reptiles can react. A violent burst of uncontrollable flames follows, taking out the soldiers and the dropship— the latter resulting in a second, and much bigger explosion that takes out the bridge and a huge section of the building ahead. Gnarled pieces of metal, shattered chunks of concrete, and scorched, blackened trees and grass— they all crumble away, tumbling down into the cloudy abyss below.

"The Blarg must have tracked me down… but… how?"

"I dunno, but it's kinda inconvenient," Rivet tells Klunk, eyes flicking around as she tries to figure out how they're going to get to the fairgrounds now. They could go back to their ship and try to find another landing pad, but if the Blarg are here… wait a second. "Maybe they're not here for you— maybe they're here for the Rangers."

"That is possible," Klunk amends. "The Rangers are one of Solana's strongest lines of defense. If they are destroyed… then the only thing left standing in Drek's way is Marcadia's Solanian Starwatch."

"Yeah? Well, these doofuses never counted on us being here." Rivet smirks as she spies a streetlamp a ways above. If she's lucky, maybe she can get across with her Swingshot. "I say we throw them a little welcome party—" She's switched over to her Swingshot and is swinging across the gap. The young feline disengages the gadget, and as she falls onto the platform feet-first, re-equips her Dual Raptor. "— complete with a fireworks display!" She points it at the nearest Blarg— who's also a big hunk of muscle armed with an Enforcer— and says, "Drop it or lose it, buster."

The soldier charges towards her, instead, charging up their Enforcer. A second later, the trooper falls to the ground, a smoldering, charred hole in their chest. The Lombax gingerly steps over the body before breaking into a run.

Rivet switches over to her FissionMallet as she rounds the corner. She smacks a robomutt right in the face just as it lunges at her, bone-shattering jaws wide open and ready to snap. The canine-like machine yelps upon impact, and is sent flying through the air— and crashing into the dirt a few feet away.

Three other robomutts watch the whole thing play out, and then look over at Rivet, expressions blank. With her free hand, she tele-equips her Bomb Glove, and squeezes her fist to produce one of the deadly, ball-shaped explosives.

"Alright, which one of you wants to get your butt kicked next?"

Two of the mutts share a bewildered look, and then scramble away, yelping. The remaining robotic canine, though, stays put, growling as it glares at her with narrowed fiery-orange eyes.

"Your buddies seem like the smart ones," Rivet mutters, shaking her head.

Rivet leaps to the side, narrowly avoiding the latest in a series of mini-missiles being shot at her. "Geez, you'd think this dum-dum would've run out of ammo by now," the young Lombax mutters, before switching from her Dual Raptors over to her Bomb Glove. She lobs it in the trigger-happy moron's direction and scrambles back as fast as she can before the sphere-shaped explosive unleashes its fury.

She's nearly knocked off her feet by the explosion, but thankfully managed to get out of range of the flying shards of shrapnel.

Rivet waits until the smoke clears up, and steps onto the bridge, carefully inching around the smoldering, blackened crater left behind— before sprinting the rest of the way towards the building ahead. The door is firmly shut, and the scorch marks on it indicate that the Blarg had been trying to break in.

She switches over to her FissionMallet, gripping the weapon tightly in her gloved hands, keeping it raised slightly above her head.

"Wouldja quit making so much racket out there?" a very familiar and clearly annoyed voice from inside yells. Rivet does a double take, staring in astonishment at the building itself as the voice then adds, "I am trying to finish the first edition of the Qwark vid-comic 'Déjà Q All Over Again' on the Renegade difficulty— without dying at all!"

"You do realize there's an invasion going on right outside… right?" Rivet tilts her head back down towards the door, her eyebrow curling upwards slightly. Her bushy tail flicks back and forth as she awaits a response.

"Gahh— dangit! I just died… and I was so close to the end too!"

There's a bunch of shuffling from inside the shop, and the next thing Rivet knows, the door is sliding open with a loud hum. On the other side stands a tall, heavy set alien with yellow fur, wearing white lab coat and a green shirt with the name of their shop scrawled on it.

"What's this about an 'invasion?'"

Rivet's expression is anything but impressed. Klunk points towards a crumbling building that had just been blasted by Blargian missiles and replies, "I believe that answers your question."

"Oh…" The shopkeeper— who Rivet recognises as "Al" from that advertisement— winces. "Yeah… that's… uhh." Without another word, they reach out and grab the feline's arm.

"Hey! Just what do you think you're—!" The next thing Rivet knows, she's being pulled into the shop, and the door is slamming shut behind her and Klunk.

"Well, for one, there is an invasion going on outside," Al retorts, letting go of her arm now that they're all inside. "So standing out in the open like that isn't exactly smart. And second, the quickest way to the emergency transport shuttles on this level of the city is through my shop." A pause. "Unfortunately, that path is— it's kind of unorthodox, if you know what I mean."

"Not really," Rivet tells them, settling her hands on her hips.

Al shrugs. "I'll explain in second— but first, where are my manners? I'm Al, and my…"

Klunk clambers down from his spot on Rivet's back, tuning them out for the time being, taking in the shop. Robotic and ship parts litter the shelves and floor, along with tools of various types and uses. There are brightly coloured posters plastered to the wall, with little drawings and big, mishappen letters typed above and below them. "'Fongoid with a Stick'… 'Fall of the Blarg?'" Whatever message the posters are trying to get across, Klunk doesn't get it. He taps his chin, studying the posters a few seconds more before turning back around to face Rivet and Al.

Rivet kneels down beside Klunk. "I told Al we're here for the Rangers— he says that they're probably still at the Hall of Heroes, but they've also got their hands full with this invasion now."

"The 'unorthodox route' I mentioned also leads to the city's train station," Al pipes up, waving a screwdriver around as he speaks. "You can take one of the trains directly to the Hall of Heroes." He then reaches down behind the worktable in front of him and pulls out a pair of metal boots. He sets those on the table and fumbles around some more before pulling out… three miniature rotor blades? "Your friend here— Clank, is it?"

"Klunk," Klunk corrects drily, eyes narrowing in annoyance.

"Klunk," Al repeats to himself. "Your friend Klunk here. Do you, by any chance, run on standard XP-18 sisterboards?"

"Yes, but I do not see why—"

"These are why it matters," Al says, waving the rotor blades at him. "Since you run on standard XP-18 sisterboards, I can install you with a heli-pack upgrade. You'll need it to get through the unorthodox way."

"Well, I suppose if it will assist us in completing our main objective…" Klunk approaches the table, still rather wary of the shopkeeper's skills.

"What are these weird looking boots for?" Rivet asks, pointing to the objects in question.

"Those are some hoverboots an old buddy of mine found during one of his expeditions in the Monolith Ruins of Torren IV," Al answers, pushing the boots towards her with his screwdriver. "They're too small for me, but they might fit you."

"Torren IV?" Klunk repeats, tapping his chin again. "That planet is in the Polaris Galaxy."

Rivet slips on the boots while the two of them talk, and smiles as she gazes down at them, wiggling her toes. A perfect fit! By the time she looks back up, Klunk is on the worktable, and Al is removing his arm. "Don't worry," Al reassures the little bot. "I'll put your arms back on when I'm done."

"You had better," Klunk shoots back, "or we as your consumers will not be happy, I assure you."

"So while we're headed to the Hall of Heroes, where exactly are you gonna be?" Rivet asks, frowning slightly. "It's not exactly safe for you to just stay here."

"I'll be headed for the emergency transport shuttles," Al answers. "Don't worry about me, alright? Just get to the Rangers, and help them put an end to this invasion. That's more important."

"Are you sure—?"

"One hundred percent."

Rivet heaves a sigh, pinching the bridge of her nose. "Fine, fine… just be careful, okay? Klunk and I ran into a lot of Blarg soldiers on our way here. You might wanna have a weapon on you, just in case."

"Dually noted." Al takes a step back, smiling at his work. "Go ahead, try it out!"

Klunk stands up, looking down at his normal arms. Rivet watches as they slide into his sides in a blur, and two rotor blades replace them. A third one comes out of the top of his head. "Not bad… for a squishy, that is," the silver bot remarks, seemingly not all that impressed.

"Hey, I think it's pretty cool!" Rivet grins, and delivers a pair of finger guns to Al. "Thanks for… well, everything! How much do you want?"

"Pfft, don't worry about paying me," Al tells her, giving a dismissive wave. "Just go help the Rangers! Oh, and tell Captain Qwark he still owes me two hundred bolts for that bet we made on the latest episode of Lance and Janice."

"Err… will do?"

Rivet has never been a fan of the show herself— it's way too sappy. And the plot is completely nonsensical, to put it nicely. Unicop isn't much better either, but at least one can get some laughs out of it whenever they lampshade their insanity as a TV show.

After Klunk has settled on Rivet's back once again, the feline heads through the shop's now open back door. She tilts her head up, taking in the massive crates that— with the help of Klunk's new heli-pack— can also serve as makeshift steps.

"Here we go," the young Lombax mutters to herself.

Meanwhile… somewhere else entirely…

The slightly grainy, frozen image on the screen flickers briefly. Narrowed green eyes glare at the brightly coloured pixels, which when put together form the image of the young Lombax and her robotic cohort.

The ones who single-handedly ended the invasion of planet Novalis.

Scaly red fists clench in bubbling rage, and in the process crumple the files resting within them. How is it that one trigger-happy ship mechanic and one defect warbot could cause so much trouble? And the day hasn't even ended yet!

And now, to top it all off, they're on Kerwan.

They will no doubt interfere, and if their work on Novalis is anything to go by… well. At least he has more than one card he can play. And if things on Kerwan go south, he does have someone who should be able to handle the matter.

Still, despite the trouble they've caused him, he can't help but be impressed.

"It truly is a shame you both chose the wrong side," he mutters. He slams his fist against a big, green button on his desk, and the frozen image of Rivet and Klunk flickers away, being replaced by the image of his Lieutenant, Victor Von Ion.

He'll contact his… "future spokesman" about dealing with the nuisances later.

"Lieutenant!"

"Chairman Drek, sir!" Victor quickly stands attention and salutes the Chairman.

"You have fulfilled our tree quota," Drek tells him, frowning slightly as he tents his fingers. "Barely."

"So then… we can return to base?"

"Not so fast!" The Chairman lifts a hand, waving for Victor to stay put— much to the latter's barely hidden chagrin. "Just because we have enough trees doesn't mean that they should have what's left. Destroy… everything."

Victor's initial irritation disappears instantly, replaced by an evil smirk as he tele-equips his trademark Negotiator and lifts it up for his boss to see. "Yes, sir. We won't fail you."

"Good. I would hate to have to do to you what I did to your predecessor."