Hey guys, author's back to have real talk for a moment. I've been playing Radiant Dawn of all games. The reason I'm telling you this is because there was this 1 narration thing in an early chapter of the game babbling about man vs beast and how they fight. When they mentioned how man uses magic or whatever, that made me think of this story and how I've made magic a reoccurring topic.

Basically, I realized I don't know jack about the Fire Emblem lore ever since I lost interest in the series that one time. Of course, Awakening made that interest return. But now I'm not really willing to play every game I have access to, combing through dialogue to find the lore.

This story is pretty much intended to be what the title says, and I've already taken liberties anyhow. I suppose it wouldn't make the story any less so if I screw up how magic actually works.

On another topic, the events in this chapter were supposed to be in the previous. I was sick, so I didn't force myself to make a monstrous chapter. But I must warn you that the pacing makes me cringe, so it's going to be bad. For those of you out there who are perfectionists, all I can say is that you really need to proceed with caution. Also, please understand that I'm not a perfectionist and that it's a miracle I can even remember how to type. Although, I do consider my typing style...caveman-like on a good day.

Adventures In Awkward Bonding Times

Chapter 4: "That One Medical Tent Drama Fest"

It was only the start of the afternoon when Gerome bolted back to camp, stomach seemingly contorting itself and threatening to send his breakfast back up. He really didn't want to battle with nausea on top of everything else, but when he was allowed a moment of coherent thought during his running he did find it very fitting.

After all, anyone who doesn't feel like vomiting after being forced into a forced bonding/artwork session is probably a long-lost god. Also, those people should pat themselves on the back because they're amazing.

Gerome's coherent thoughts were shattered quickly, though. His stomach felt as though it was being run over by a bunch of horses, and he did not like the way his breathing turned into gagging. Not one bit. But as much as he wanted to fell down anywhere on the ground and, um, purify himself… It was his REAL father's traits kicking in and giving him some forced pride about this sort of thing.

Robin wouldn't be caught emptying his stomach, you best believe. Or if you asked Morgan. And Gerome, apparently? The family is weird, please believe that.

One of the medical tents wasn't far away, either that or Gerome's feet were motivated to speed up at the thought of being seen in an unflattering position. Never mind that his imitation parents have already seen the worst of him. In a blur, Gerome ripped the tent flaps open, startling a predictable Noire who was sitting on a cot whilst Lissa examined her foot.

Noire said something, but Gerome didn't catch it. His ears were filled with a thumping noise that was either his heart or blood as he grabbed the closest empty bucket-

"I want to be just like Father!" Little Morgan declared, bouncing at Cherche's side. "One day I'll store infinite books under my arms like he does! And uproot all trees with wind! And make fire appear anywhere! And look really cool while-"

That was when little Gerome bit down on his own teeth, and slammed the door shut as hard as he could. If the hinges broke, all the better to make his point clear. But even though he turned to Cherche and Morgan under the tree, he was displeased to see they weren't looking for the noise source.

Cherche always told him not to leave the yard unless he was with either her or Robin, and in much more impish tone would kindly remind him that Minerva would pick up his trail before he could reach his destination.

Forget Cherche, then. Gerome didn't know why so much disgust was welling up in him, but it was so much more frequent after Morgan started growing up. Yes, that sounded like a good excuse. Yes, Morgan took every opportunity to study words beyond her level and...and show off. Gerome couldn't remember if he was like that when he was three, but he just assumed he wasn't. He...never did anything that would impress his parents.

Gerome walked away from the yard easily, finding himself going down the path with trees still bare from the winter. He hadn't noticed that he was huffing so much as he traveled, not until one huff too many made his nose start… Ugh, why did his nose have to leak when he was emotional? That would give off the impression he was sad, or something. If one were to think he was sad, they clearly needed brushing up on their people reading skills.

Lissa said something about retrieving some water, and seemingly lifted off her feet and flew out the tent in an effort to avoid the unfortunate stench from the bucket. Gerome really didn't blame her; he felt even more ill having to keep his face lined up as he kept gagging.

Noire leaned forward, eyebrows furrowed and expression full of empathy the whole time.

Finally, Gerome set the bucket down.

"You're so strong to still be on your feet, Gerome." Noire randomly mentioned.

Gerome was going to reply, but too much effort made him start gagging again and leading him to-

The stupid ritual was performed again, attempt number probably two-hundred making little Gerome too upset to fully empty his thoughts as he hovered his hand over the tome. He didn't feel any surge of power, no sudden breeze from the page. There was nothing.

Gerome honestly forgot how long he had been out there, feet freezing through his boots due to getting stuck in the snow multiple times. He kept sneezing, most likely prepared to catch a cold at that rate. The fact the sun was beginning to go down didn't even bother him.

What bothered Gerome was that the training dummies were still knocked down from Morgan's training, and there was no extra wind to scatter them around. They were just stuck in the same place. Kind of like Gerome.

Gerome was cold, defeated and ultimately not giving any concern when he dropped the tome in the snow. He had yet to be found, and he never once heard his parents voices or Minerva's screeches. He was all alone to be pathetic, so he did just that.

He thought he was getting too old to be crying, but tears quickly welled and blurred his vision as he collapsed against the tree trunk. Gerome hated himself for doing it, screamed at himself in his head to stop even. It wasn't the end of the world, just one failure. Eventually, he just wondered if he was sad or ashamed of himself.

But just to ensure he didn't get away without mental scars that would probably give him many a sleepless night, a girl's voice interrupted his very loud sobs.

"Gerome! What happened to you?!" Lucina sounded absolutely terror-stricken, a first. "Did your parents leave you here?! Where are they now?!"

Gerome shoved his face into the tree trunk, officially prepared for the ground to open underneath his feet. If he didn't die, he would not allow her to see THIS messy sight of tears and horrifying what-do-you-even-call-its coming out his nose. Not in front of her.

Gerome didn't have to make a choice at all. Lucina lunged forward, grabbing his sides and summoning all her strength to whirl him around and meet her eyes.

Lucina was completely silent, even when her jaw appeared to loosen and allow her mouth to fall open. She didn't look for too long, though. All Gerome could hope for was that she let her gaze flicker around because she didn't want to embarrass him.

"What's wrong?" Lucina asked again, this time in much more composed and gentle tone.

Gerome kept a self-conscious hand brushing over his face, muttering crap about the situation. To his own ears, he couldn't even understand it. Keep in mind that he still couldn't talk without a sob trying to come out.

Fortunately, Lucina was observant enough to notice the tome sticking out of the snow. She said nothing, curiously walking over and pulling it out. She had to brush some snow off, and then peek inside at all of the symbols.

Quick as Lucina grabbed the tome, she shut it and held it close to her torso while she approached Gerome again. She had just one thing to say about this situation, though.

"I've seen you training with the axe, Gerome. If that's what you're meant to wield, don't deny it."

Gerome's heartbeat raced dramatically, and he dropped his head before she could see fresh tears welling. He tried to reply, he really did. When it came to Lucina, his tongue usually tied itself into a ribbon while he forgot how to breathe.

"You want to be just like your father, though. I know what that feels like, I really do… But you can't let that take over your life." Lucina continued, maintaining her composure more than what she probably should at her age. Still, when she caught Gerome looking up she kept a small smile on.

"I don't want to be like my father."

Gerome's seemingly lifeless body fell on the cot, mask slipping enough to show one eye was slightly moist from the stress it had been under and his complexion in general was pale.

Noire looked over to him, still empathetic but also smiling. "The worst is over. In a few days, you won't even remember eating something bad."

"It wasn't food."

"I'm sorry for assuming-"

"Everything that's happened to me is because of your wonderful friend." Gerome tried to snap, even though his voice was hoarse and he could barely lift his head to meet Noire's eyes.

Noire cringed, most likely due to immediately realizing which friend he was referring to. But she didn't say any names, no, her own pale complexion implied that she dealt with enough crap to not need anything to do with Morgan at the moment.

Lissa appeared to be MIA as far as Gerome was concerned, and if Noire was the only person around to talk to- Yes, he didn't mind this arrangement as much as he normally would. The emotion sickness was so bad that it made him want human contact. He just...had to make sure not to look at her elevated foot that was heavily bruised. Bad for the stomach.

"Noire, I want to hear an outside opinion."

Noire turned to look at him again, making no effort to hide the fact she anticipated conversation.

"Do you- Do you think-" Gerome pathetically stammered, voice seemingly losing power with each word.

Luckily, Noire must have been educated of what's going on against her will. She smiled at him, nodding.

"You don't have to search really far to know if your parents love you. I know you think Morgan must have planned for me to tell you this, but I swear it's not like that. If you ask me if I think you're in the wrong, I can't say anything else except that I do."

Gerome was too tired to make much of an argument, only groaning in return. Noire continued to smile at him, but she was trying so hard to change her lack of enthusiasm that Gerome had to look away as he was inferior in comparison.

Before anyone could settle down and rest, the tent flaps were suddenly ripped open-

"Noire! Do you still have your foot?! What did Mother say?! You- You look better!" When random Owain had a moment to breathe in between his shouting, he leaped over to Noire and took her hands in his.

Noire had to compose herself from the volume, shutting her eyes tight as a rapid headache happened and left. But in the end, it was truly fascinating how quick her face lit up before she pressed her lips to Owain's before he could use his mouth for anything ever.

"The pile of books really did damage on my foot, but Father's hex actually healed most of the damage." Noire managed to explain, voice growing quiet and weak from too much use again. "When Lissa returns, she should be able to finish the healing as if I never got hurt."

"I'm so glad!" Owain demonstrated his feelings perfectly by suddenly embracing Noire, holding her like she'd just break into pieces if he let go. "I should have tried to move the books. I would have been able to reach them, and then you wouldn't have-"

"Owain, please." Noire managed, despite still resting her chin on his shoulder. Then things took a different turn with: "I need to save my voice, but I don't mind… You know…" What the hell was he supposed to know?

With that, the couple separated just long enough for them to get themselves in a position to kiss. That would have been fine, of course. Owain was terrified because of her injury, Noire was used to that kind of thing but she wanted to give him comfort. Very well. Gerome continued looking in that direction, after all it wasn't as though-

Well, they weren't separating any time soon. Gerome tried to clear his throat best he could, especially when Noire leaned back on the cot and grabbed a hold of Owain's clothes and pulled him down. That was not okay in the slightest.

"Excuse me." Gerome tried to interrupt, weakly lifting his head and setting his gaze right on them.

Apparently, Noire and Owain spontaneously lost their hearing at the same time because they kept the saliva exchange going.

"Listen, there's a time and place for..."

Owain rested a knee on the edge of the cot, hoisting himself up there-

"I want to die-"

SUDDENLY THE TENT FLAPS OPENED, THANK THE GODS. Gerome let out a sigh of relief, and both Noire and Owain made shocked noises before separating.

"Sorry for taking too long with the water!" Lissa called out cheerfully. There were two buckets in her arms, one inside the other. Presumably, she had to throw the ruined out to hell and grab a new one.

"Noire will be fine, right?!" Owain immediately blurted as if Gerome didn't exist.

Even Lissa had to take a hand off the buckets so she could rub the ear closest to the noise. "I'm going to examine it a final time to be certain, but it's very likely all Noire has to do is stay off that foot for a few days."

"How could anyone even lose a foot to books?" Gerome asked to no one in particular, before rolling from his side to back.

Lissa shook her head, trying not to be a victim of the madness around her. She approached Gerome, offering an arm he could use to help pull himself to a sitting position. Once he was up, she just set the bucket down and handed him a ladle filled with it. You think the army has the budget for fancy glasses?

Finally, the atmosphere in the tent was almost calm. Gerome was able to wash this throat with the water and feel any remaining shakiness in his arms and legs fade away. He didn't think he had recovered enough to leave just yet, so he settled for waiting. It wasn't as though the day could be worse, of course.

"Have you seen Gerome anywhere, Lissa?"

"Oh, he's in the tent over there. I don't know the details, but he stumbled inside and looked close to vomiting all precious fluids out."

Cherche sighed, fully aware of how much time she spent pacing around the side of the medical tent. She alternated between brushing any stray hair from her eyes, and smoothing out the drawings and taking a peek at them. She didn't know why this one opportunity to communicate with her loner son was stressing her out.

There wasn't reason to be concerned of Gerome reacting negatively, anyhow. His refusal to show any affection to his family just came off as a quirk. That was just decided before he was born – Gerome would live a life of being so disgusted by affection that, in not so much of an original twist of events, he would actually come off as acknowledging someone's existence. After all, if he really hated someone then it didn't make sense for him to continue to put up with their crap.

"Owain tells me that Noire told him that Morgan-" Lissa paused to catch her breath. Though she was caught rolling her eyes too, most likely annoyed from making it sound immature. "Apparently, there's some kind of evil scheme in the works? Something about melting Gerome's shield of ice?"

"A shield of ice sounds very poetic and useless, but I'm sure the situation hasn't fallen so far out of control."

Cherche's stalling flashbacks were interrupted by the tent flaps rustling. She looked over her shoulder, catching sight of Gerome being a victim of bad timing by exiting.

Cherche smiled.

Gerome stopped a very short distance from the tent, just breathing the flowers' scent before someone ran over them again.

Cherche smoothed out the papers a final time, holding them securely in one hand as she approached Gerome.

Gerome bolted-

"Not this time!"

They probably looked ridiculous to any poor bystander in the area. Cherche didn't approve of losing her composure, but after witnessing Lucina snap then she didn't see reason to remain formal at the moment. After all, it's not like anyone can describe a woman pulling the shirt collar of her son the same age as her and pretty much wrestling him to the ground like she used to have to do to her wyvern when she was younger and went through a rebellious phase as… You know what? Forget that, history.

Gerome wound up ungracefully falling on his rear again, grateful to be free of that forsaken hand on his collar at the very least. Although after all that motion, his stomach did not feel the best. A little lightheaded, Gerome was forced to hold himself up by the elbows and look up at Cherche's perpetually nightmare-inducing smile.

"What makes you think I want to see you again?" Gerome asked coldly, though in his position he knew it didn't leave an impact.

"You fled before you could see the drawings Lucina and I made." Cherche promptly stated matter of fact.

"Will you just drown those?!"

"Morgan did say something about how drawing, erm, I may have tuned out some of her words. The point is: Lucina and I… Even Morgan herself drew based on 'innermost feelings'."

"Would you like me to vomit again? That's all any of you want from me: pain and suffering."

"Sometimes, a good cry is helpful as well."

When Gerome looked away from her, he turned his attention to the tent where eavesdropping Lissa made an alarmed sound and hurriedly pulled the flaps closed.

In the end, Gerome could only sigh and stand. Once he was on his feet, he dusted off his clothes as if he could regain any kind of composure and lifted a very intimidating and scolding finger-

"Gerome, I won't waste any time trying to get through to you than I must." Cherche's tone took a sudden swerve to business-like, though absolutely nothing about her expression changed as she took Gerome's hands during his shocked state and tucked the papers between both sets of fingers. "If you continue to doubt how people truly feel about you, I suppose that's just how you choose to live."

Gerome refused to look at the papers, merely holding them out like they were covered in slime or something. But it should be noted that he must have had the supernatural sense to know which one was Lucina's – that one was held with not too much strength to leave marks.

"Don't look at the drawings now, if you feel that way." Cherche formally held her arms behind her back, eyes intentionally flickering around to look at anything else. "I just wanted to let you know how people see you while you push them back, that's all. Don't worry, though. You'll look at them later, of course. Curiosity always wins in this kind of situation."

"You're not going to criticize the way I live my life? Laugh at me? Reveal that Morgan's pulling strings?" Gerome didn't know why all of that came out rapid fire, nor why he felt almost offended that none of the aforementioned happened.

Cherche looked toward the sky, because no one can just look someone in the eye when they're having a dramatic moment.

Gerome was starting to get irritated, lifting his gaze to the sky as well. There was nothing interesting to be seen up there, so he didn't know what all the damn HYPE was-

"Would you feel more comfortable if we gave up?"

Lissa, still poking her head out of the tent, gasped loudly and battled to keep her fingers away from her teeth that were ready to bite down.

"It can't end so soon!" Owain blurted, poking his head out as well and nervously crumpling some paper of his own between his palms. "Cherche, don't do this! I already composed an epic victory speech for Morgan!"

Noire managed to squeeze in between the two, or at least her arms did. Her hands could be seen clasping to one shoulder of each person and then desperately reeling them back in. But the cover was already blown.

Gerome tried his best not to accidentally smile. He bit down on his lip for as long as possible before he could taste blood, and settled for just holding Cherche's drawing over his mouth to show just how he valued her creative attempts.

"If- If you can seriously stop Morgan from doing all this crazy shit..." Gerome sounded awestruck, and he knew it. But for once, just once he was glad to be alive.

"No more craziness from Morgan, I promise." Cherche briefly extended her hand as if to shake and seal the deal, but hurriedly yanked it back and smoothly brushed 'dust' off her clothes. She did not just expect him to touch another's skin, really.

Somehow, both Gerome and Cherche felt an eerie change in the temperature. Just something to imply that elsewhere in camp, Morgan had an adult moment where she realized she didn't need to force people to get all platonic love-y on each other. But it sounded unlikely.

Eventually, Gerome realized they were both just standing there looking like they had no business to take care of. He couldn't help that his throat clearing afterward was a frail attempt at not being awkward. That ship sailed, by the by.

"Are you supposed to hug me against my will now?"

Cherche's smile increased at the question, and that was when Gerome saw the entrance to hell. If he thought he saw it before, it was just a weak imitation.

"You're asking if we should hug? I recall you being-"

"I don't want any part in these ridiculous gestures!" Gerome snapped, cheeks instantly flushing. "You're a sick person for even suggesting that! Will you get out of my sight?!"

Cherche had the audacity to muffle an obvious chuckle with her palm, before she turned as if to FINALLY rid herself- Except, she didn't. Gasp, such a shock.

Gerome had absolutely no time to react, and he didn't expect any mortal gathering of flesh could have the reflex needed to dodge the horror that Cherche inflicted upon him. All Gerome could do, being a much less complex creature, was close his eyes and throw his arms in front of his face when she moved in.

All of that rambling didn't really need to exist, though. In simpler terms, Cherche rushed in with a very slim window of opportunity to press a kiss to Gerome's head.

"How have you not been punched in the throat for that?!" Noire shouted, this time being the only one poking her head through the crack between the doors.

The absolute worst part about the moment was the fact Cherche took her time reeling herself back on her toes and then folding her arms behind her back like nothing happened. To the untrained eye, it would seem that she was questioning her life choices. Seem being the keyword, most likely.

"Perhaps one day you will understand how I can still love you." Cherche's tone was so calm that it gave no feelings away. She sent Gerome her typical smile, taking all the time in the world to whirl away. "If you keep trying to find the answer, you might even realize that even after all that's happened you can't deny you still love your parents." With that, Cherche strolled away with much dignity, shockingly.

Gerome wasn't really alone when Cherche left. Lissa, Owain and Noire could be overheard loudly "whispering" among themselves. Gerome took a chance, curiosity managing to succeed at making him look down at the obviously unfinished drawings. Of course, both had text in the corner revealing the names of the "artists."

Cherche's drawing had very little details, looking almost as simple as a child's piece of work. It wasn't obvious if it would have been given more detail later, but for the moment it could almost pass for a mother wyvern who suspiciously resembled Minerva gathering her offspring together. A very predictable move from her, though. If she wasn't thinking of the most adorable creatures in the world, she was confusing people and making them want to die. Still, Gerome couldn't help being...ALMOST impressed that she created this under such a small amount of time.

When Gerome moved on to Lucina's drawing, he took the time to really pay attention. But there wasn't much to see; it was painfully obvious by the shapes purposefully taking up nearly page that she wanted to be done as soon as possible. She must have stayed either because Morgan had her feet chained under the table, or she wanted to motivate him. He had a difficult time believing Lucina would do the latter, but it wasn't impossible.

It was worth taking in the fact that Lucina drew a big rectangle, maybe resembling a house? There were also lines inside as if the rough beginnings of a room. Then there were circles connected to lines in the center, one of them holding a square and offering it to the other-

"Big brother..." A pathetic voice sobbed.

Little Gerome stubbornly folded his arms, turning his head at just the right angle so he was glaring at the wall and not his little sister. She was only four, so maybe he was too rough on her… But he didn't care.

There was no more attempts at speech, just crying noises. The kind that pierce your ears, traveling further into your brain. When they reach your brain, all the logic melts down further into the heart. But the heart doesn't actually have anything to do with emotion; it just beats and does its blood thing.

"You should actually listen to what she says. Gods, you suck at this brother role." Gerome's mind snapped back at him, mid-corruption due to the annoying crying.

"Shut up." Best attempt at comfort ever-

"But I can't!"

Gerome threw himself back, eyes bugging out and his arms moving to his face defensively.

Morgan stood there, dropping the tome and bawling at the same time. She couldn't speak at first, stretching out the top of her shirt to reach to her eyes and try to wipe away at least a few tears to see.

"If I couldn't do the magic thing-y, I'd be sad! I'd cry a lot! So if you won't…! Guess…!"

"Gods! Are you crying because I won't?!" Gerome shrieked, not trying to make it sound hostile to the emotionally-fragile child. Apparently. She'd never cried so easily, not like this.

Every part of Gerome said get the eff out of there. He felt like an idiot, clenching his fists and walking to Morgan. He didn't want to even consider what his face looked like.

Before Morgan could flood their home in tears, Gerome knelt to her height and pressed a single palm on top of her hair. Just the one. It wasn't even affectionate, he assumed.

Like magic – yes, there could be no other word after all this madness – Morgan shut up. She looked at Gerome, big and innocent eyes overflowing with tears and her expression that of soul crushed.

Gerome tried to overcome his disgust, not clearing his throat in case of dinner trying to make a reappearance.

"Would you move on if I told you that- That- I..."

Morgan blinked obliviously, thankfully all of that was clearing the tears.

Gerome hung his head, destroying some kind of "tender" moment before it could be completed. Couldn't even show embarrassment to his family, get closer to them through putting all the emotions out in the open and trying to deal with them. How long 'till he died-

"Are you trying to tell me… You're overly-sensitive when alone?"

"Don't say it where Mother and Father can hear."

"Oh! You can feel!"

"Don't sound like you needed to hear that!" Gerome was about to claw into her head, but withdrew it so he could bury his eyes into his hands. "I'm too old for this stuff, but I can't stop. When I think I might be useless, I just fall apart. When I see the way… You and Father… Gods, did I really just say that last part out-"

"Me and Father?"

"FORGET IT."

Morgan shook her head, the remainder of fresh tears appearing to be drying in the slight breeze. "Someone needs to open the bottle of feelings."

"Aren't YOU the one who needs to grow up?" Gerome snapped, dropping his hands and lifting his head so she could see the scowl. "Just get back to the topic! You're crying your eyes out because you think I'm a walking block of ice, but I'm trying to tell-"

"Gotta confess: I feel better knowing you have emotions." As if that wasn't horrible enough, Morgan ended that line with a smile. Yes her eyes and cheeks were still pink from crying, but she smiled like all was well with the world suddenly.

"Glad you can read people without any prior training, now." Gerome pointed a trembling finger toward his face. "Do you see what you've done to me? I'm not getting out of this moment without a terrible, mental scar."

"But now we can share your secret!" Morgan clapped her hands once, the sound of hell. "I bet you feel better, too. Now you talk to me when you worry I've got all of Father's attention."

In whatever remained of reality, a hand reached out and touched his shoulder. "Gerome, are you o-"

The scream Gerome let out- Wow, there was no way to explain how it sounded. It was just that of pure horror.

When Gerome whirled around, he found that he was in uncomfortable proximity with Noire and Owain. Based on how Noire's foot looked earlier, she probably shouldn't have been standing on it but at the moment she did so without much effort to keep balance.

A lot of possible replies raced through Gerome's mind. The one he was most charmed by involved more profanity, and a strong "you could give someone a heart attack". Unfortunately, words refused to leave his mouth as he just panted slightly and tried to get his heart back into his chest in the first place.

Also, the more important question was probably something along the lines of why were they wasting the precious remaining days of their existence talking to him?

Considering that Noire spent a decent chunk of time with Morgan, she should be brainwashed. But Gerome reminded himself that Noire had low energy, not to mention inner inherited demons to deal with. Crazily, Morgan was the least of her problems.

"If everyone else is trying to scheme, I might as well try. Even though Noire and Owain could have their own right now, I'll just have to get them to eff it and listen to me. I could actually be like my father, then." Gerome knew his thoughts could drift to the land of unacceptable, and that he should have broken it before anything involving his REAL father came into existence.

For the moment, Gerome collected himself and put what he felt was an appropriate glare as he reached for his mask. He wasn't entirely sure where he was going, but all those encounters with his mental scars seemed to be leading up to a moment like this. Finally, flippin' finally he was going to make his own move. It would have been better if he could use that description for Lucina being involved, meh, he'd take one accomplishment at a time if he had to.

And so it continues on…

Although, Gerome trying to scheme may as well be the countdown to the world's demise…

There is no escape...