A/N: 'Sup everybody?! I ain't got much to say today, but shoutout to the awesome Guest for reviewing! ;) \m/

.

Guest ––– Not a problem! :) And it's ironic that it turned out to be "fair" to Fiona because I'm a diehard Kladora shipper. Like, DIEHARD. Lol. I truly hope this is unbiased, though. In the beginning I used to do what a lot of fanfic writers do and make her evil, but then I realized you can make a character decent and still hate 'em. I guess what I'm trying to say is I'm trying to get better as a writer, to see all sides of things from an unbiased perspective and better my storytelling skills, and I've found that it's easy to diss/make a character you hate "hateable", but it's a challenge (and the right thing to do) to write everything from a neutral standpoint.

Thanks, I will. ;) And thank you for your feedback. Every little bit helps me get better. :)

.

Disclaimer: Me no own ASOUE. Still an obsessed fangirl. ^_^

=======
Chapter 3
=======

"Who the hell does she think she is?" Fiona snarled, ripping a small specimen off of a fat, rotting log. "'If it weren't for me, you'd be blubbering like a caveman!'" she mimicked in a high-pitched sneer. "No, you'd be blubbering like a caveman if I had no restraint left!"

"Let it go, Fi," Klaus told her soothingly, leaning back against a tall, thick, knotted oak, observing the mycologist in her natural habitat. "She ain't worth your time."

"No, I won't let it go!" Fiona barked hotly, glaring at him. "I've let too much of her nonsense slide and she still keeps picking at me! Maybe if I give her a free facelift, she'll finally leave me alone!"

"Violence will only make it worse," Klaus reminded her softly, watching her get up and storm over to a colossal oak branch that had given up the will to hang on a couple weeks ago.

"Yeah, for her! Not me!" Fiona spat over her shoulder. She flopped down on her hands and knees and examined the underside for any more free samples. "Ugh, is there any reishi on this island?" she wondered exasperatedly. Her glare lowered to the ground, and before long, her eyebrows rose in surprise. "Well, hel-lo. What do we have here?"

A peck of snow-white mushrooms had taken root a foot or so from her position, standing tall, boasting their potential.

Fiona grinned crookedly at her luck. "Amanita ocreata…we meet at last." Immediately, she stretched her arm out and uprooted the entire family of mushrooms, adrenaline racing through her veins at her latest thought. Yeah, these'll do just fine, she thought.

/

"There. All done," Violet breathed, sliding her welding goggles up onto her forehead.

"Is he really?" Quigley asked excitedly, peeking around her latest invention at her. "Can I turn him on now?"

"I think you two should get a room first," Duncan suggested, fighting to keep a straight face.

"Duncan, I swear to God…" Quigley snarled, his eyes flickering.

"What?" Duncan asked innocently.

"You know what!" Quigley snapped.

Duncan smiled mockingly. Finally, Quigley got a taste of his own medicine after twenty-two years. No way was he going to stop medicating him now. "Well, hey, I mean, if you love Edison, does that mean I get to be Violet's husband?"

"No!" Quigley barked viciously, his glare worsening. "Nobody would fall for you, nerd! Even Edison has standards!"

"How would you know he has standards? Are you two super close?"

Quigley's eyes narrowed dangerously, steam rolling out of his ears as if he were a train. Everybody watched intently, prepping themselves for his famous retaliation tactic. But to their awe, they'd jumped the gun and assumed too quick. Quigley merely stood there, squinting ominously at his older brother, not even daring to blink.

Duncan flinched, equally as awed. "Okay, seriously, that's the third time today you didn't put me in a headlock," he observed, crossing his arms. "What, is my maturity finally rubbing off on you? Is my little brother growing up?"

Quigley just shook his head slowly.

Suddenly, a couple boop!ing noises interrupted their spat and Quigley whirled around to find Isadora flipping a few switches. "Isadora!" he whined. "I was gonna turn him on!"

Duncan stifled a giggle.

"Duncan!" Quigley roared, whirling around with a sadistic glare.

"Nobody was doing anything but arguing," Isadora pointed out. "I mean, I'm sorry, Quigley, but twenty-two years of your guys' bickering is really getting old."

Edison's eyes lit up and surveyed the group in front of him. "Master Violet," he finally greeted sweetly, turning to face his creator. "It's a pleasure to meet you at last. I'm Edison Tesla, your Very-own Facilitative Deputy. How may I help you?"

"He's wonderful," Isadora remarked breathlessly, marveling every inch of her best friend's latest invention.

"I'll say," Katey agreed. "You're quite the gear-head, Violet. You could give Tim Fletcher a run for his money."

Violet blushed, looking away bashfully. "Thanks," she said quietly. She looked at her awakened companion and smiled. "The pleasure's all mine, Edison. How do you feel?"

"Mechanically speaking? All of my parts and functions are at optimal level," Edison replied with a nod.

"Is there anything I can do for you?" Violet offered.

Edison was quiet for a minute, his eyes softening. "Your…concern for my well-being is most touching, Master," he choked. "But I wish to be no burden to you or anyone else. My function is to serve you and whomever else you tell me to serve. Only then, when my master is satisfied, I'm satisfied."

Quigley smiled crookedly in amazement. Was there anything his wife couldn't do? Wait, never mind…that was rhetorical.

"Miss Baudelaire?" a man called, knocking on her door. "Can we talk with you for a second?"

"Sure, it's open," Violet hollered back.

In walked a group of volunteers about her age. "Thank you," the man leading the group smiled. "I hope we're not interrupting."

"Oh, no, you're fine," Violet replied. "I was just testing Edison out."

The volunteers' eyes widened in astonishment as Edison surveyed his master's latest visitors. "He's magnificent!" another volunteer cried, his associates murmuring in agreement.

"Thanks," Violet blushed again. "What did you wanna talk to me about?"

"We need your help," the man sighed, as if he'd failed at something. "The plane out front won't start and nothing we do seems to work. If we can't fix it in time, we won't be able to leave after the meeting."

"Oh…okay, I'll check it out." Violet looked at Edison. "C'mon, Edison, let's go help 'em out."

"Right behind you, Master Violet," Edison clomped after her.

"Sorry, guys. I'll see you at dinner," Violet looked over her shoulder apologetically at the others. And with that, Edison gave them a small wave and closed the door behind them.

The Quagmires and Katey looked at each other. "Now what do we do?" Duncan asked finally.

"Cause trouble, of course," Quigley replied with his trademark devilish grin. "What else is there to do?"

Duncan gave him a look.

"Oh, loosen your belt, nerd! Enjoy life for once," Quigley snorted, fiddling with the ring on his left hand, then he turned and headed over to the door. "I'll be anywhere and everywhere if you need me."

"I'll…be in my room," Isadora piped up meekly, trudging after him.

Katey looked to find Duncan's jaw clenched, his gaze piercing through the wall in the direction his brother disappeared. "You okay?" she asked.

"Hm?" Duncan snapped out of his trance. "Oh, yeah, I'm…I'm fine."

"Nice try," Katey told him, skepticism apparent in her eyes. "I've seen that look before. It's the look I've given that sea brat too many times."

Duncan tipped his head, puzzled.

"You're jealous of him, aren't you?" Katey said, her words sounding more like a declaration than a question.

Duncan looked down at the regal red carpet, defeated. He never really was good at hiding his emotions. His heart was burning alive, both from the pain and the anger. How could she pick Quigley of all people?! He didn't deserve her! He'd never been starved, beaten, and stuffed in a pitch black elevator shaft! Never had to run laps all night in her place so she could study for that exam that would determine her fate! Never been chased by an angry mob for a crime he didn't commit! All he was was a punk who thought life was a joke, who thought he was cool, a chick magnet, the best comedian in history. He didn't get straight-A's and keep his nose clean like he did! He wasn't hardworking like he was! He wasn't husband material like he was!

AND SHE MARRIED QUIGLEY INSTEAD OF HIM?! OF COURSE HE WAS JEALOUS!

"Sorry…did I touch a nerve?" Katey asked after a moment.

The look in Duncan's eyes intensified. Luckily, he was still looking at the floor. His jaw clenched again.

Guilt creeping in, Katey walked over to him and wrapped him in an empathetic hug. "I'm sorry, Duncan. I know exactly how you feel."

Duncan melted into her embrace. Finally, someone truly knew his agony. "Thanks, Katey," he whispered, fighting to keep himself together.

They stood there, wrapped in each other's arms for what felt like forever, when before long, Katey looked into his eyes with an inviting smile. "Don't worry, things will get better. Evil may win this battle, but it never wins the war."

"All my life it's won," Duncan admitted mournfully.

"A war consists of many battles, not just a few. You still have the rest of your life to win her over."

Duncan looked off to the side in thought. "Y'know…you're right. I do have the rest of the war to win her over." An optimistic smile finally began to spread across his face. "I'm not gonna stop until she sees I'm the right one for her, even if I have to do a few crazy things."

"That's the spirit," Katey patted his shoulders. "Remember: they only win if we let them."

Duncan nodded thoughtfully. He always knew he was the better brother. Now, it was time to prove it.

/

Isadora sighed, turning the page of a thick, dusty volume on her desk. For hours she'd been alternating between writing her soul in her notebook and reading others', soaking up every ounce of knowledge they'd left behind between each line. She looked down at the next poem before her, and suddenly, her mind went numb. Elizabeth Barrett Browning's legacy held her gaze with a blinding innocence she'd almost forgotten, reminding her of a time when life was so simple…so untainted…actually worth living. There was a time, yes…

Was.

As Isadora read the million dollar question atop the page for the millionth time in her life, she felt her heart begin to lose its integrity. It wasn't long ago that she'd dismissed this innocence, the optimism of tomorrow. For her, there were no tomorrows. Not after what happened when she'd walked through the front door after a long night of spying on the enemy. The sights, the sounds, everything came rushing back to her, drowning her once more in the waters of agony. Tears welled up in her eyes…her heartbeat quickened…

With a wrathful cry, Isadora seized the book and threw it across her room, the volume crashing into the wall and onto the floor with an earth-shattering thud! Her breathing now ominous and heavy, she glared at it, silently daring it to move. But, like most books, it stayed put, especially after seeing the look in her eye.

Just then, there was a knock at the door. Isadora hurriedly wiped her eyes and swallowed her pain. "It's open," she called.

The door opened and Duncan peeked inside, looking for something. "Hey Isadora, it's me. What was that noise?"

"Oh, uh…" Isadora stuttered, flushing in embarrassment. "Just…my book. It…fell off the shelf." She pointed at the volume to his left.

Duncan followed her finger. "How'd it fall off your shelf and land all the way over here?"

Isadora gulped. Shoot! There was no mathematical or scientific explanation for why it was completely beside her bookshelf and the shelves were facing her bed against the north wall. "Uh…it was on top of my bookshelf," she said quickly.

"Oh…okay." Duncan walked over to the book, picked it up, and set it on top of the shelf before heading over to her. "You ready for dinner?"

"Is it six already?" Isadora flinched.

"Well, ten to six. I thought we'd find a seat before it all fills up."

"Oh…alright. Let's go." Isadora grabbed her notebook and followed him.

The dining room, much like the rest of Maidenly Manor, was nothing short of breathtaking beauty. Stretching from wall to wall beneath a diamond-crusted chandelier was a gorgeous mahogany table, each of its spots furnished with a golden plate, golden silverware, and a golden goblet. Up and down the walls were numerous thirty-foot tall portraits of all the volunteers before them, complete with their name, their birth (and death) date, and their major(s). And just off to the side were a pair of double doors leading to the kitchen.

Much to Duncan and Isadora's dismay, the others had the same thought as Duncan and came early. After craning their necks a bit, they spied three empty chairs side-by-side and hurried over to them. They took a seat and automatically placed their notebooks on the third one for Quigley…wherever he was. For as long as they could remember, Quigley was always late to dinner. Didn't matter what he was doing, he was always late. This was nothing new.

"Hello, volunteers!" a man about their age hollered happily, and everybody's eyes fell on him.

Duncan looked at his watch. A wasn't kidding: dinner commenced right at eight.

"Thank you all for coming out to my beautiful home," the man continued with a smile. "I'm Tadrey McGrace, one of the heads of V.F.D.'s Combat Training program." He was a handsome devil, dressed to the nines in a crisp, all-white suit, his short dark hair glistening with gel, a long, royal-looking sword hanging from his belt. "I'm glad you all could join us for dinner tonight…well, most of you. It gets pretty lonely around here all by myself."

Puzzled, everyone looked around the room and found about twenty or so chairs vacant, besides Quigley's.

"Actually, there are a few volunteers down at the landing strip fixing the plane," one volunteer in the back piped up. "They probably lost track of time."

"Oh. Well, then, no worries," Tadrey waved his hand with a forgiving nod. "That's a relief. For a moment, I thought it was my hygiene."

The volunteers laughed.

Suddenly, the double doors burst open and in ran Quigley. "Sorry I'm late," he panted, bending over to catch his breath.

"Oh, he's not sorry, he does it all the time," Duncan told Tadrey.

"Shut up, Donuts! …Wherever you are," Quigley growled. He paused to supply his lungs with a couple more doses of oxygen. "The prank took a little longer than I thought," he explained apologetically. "I really didn't mean to be late this time."

"That's alright. We haven't started eating yet." Tadrey smiled. "I'm quite curious as to what your prank is, though."

"Not if you're at the other end of it," Duncan said, and the volunteers laughed again.

"Personal experience, Duncan?"

"More times than I can count," Duncan replied.

Quigley looked around the room for his siblings, and after Isadora confirmed their location with a wave, he walked over to them, making sure to punch Duncan along the way.

"Quigley!" Duncan hissed, glaring at him.

"Then keep your mouth shut," Quigley snorted, taking a seat on Isadora's other side. "Or I'll shut it permanently."

"I'd love to see you try," Duncan challenged with a smirk.

"No, you wouldn't. Because I'll rip your eyes out first!"

"Listen you little–––!"

Just then, the double doors burst open again and in ran another volunteer, her face pallid with panic. "Tadrey!" she breathed. "The plane…the plane!"

Puzzled murmuring started up at the table. "What about the plane?" Tadrey asked.

The volunteer bent over to catch her breath. "I headed over there to check on them and…and…"

Tadrey nodded. "Go on," he urged.

The volunteer looked up at him, tears in her eyes. "It…it exploded! Took out the whole block!"