Despite her perfectly rational fear of the Evil Fuzzles, Brynn was sure that she could negotiate with them.
After all, they were just a gigantic, simple-minded race of space... thingies. They couldn't possibly be hard to convince, this fact only reinforced by her new knowledge of their rather sophisticated and high class lifestyle.
Yes, a gigantic, simple-minded race of space... thingies... who lived in a gigantic, beautifully carved out planet, dotted from corner to corner with beautiful crystal formations, fine space fungi and even finer art, with a very nice (and actually superior to Neopian) Government Structure and Heirarchy, to boot, couldn't possibly be closed to peaceful, non-violent negotiation... as a matter of fact, they, the citizens of the planet, the latter aptly named Olympia, would probably welcome the idea of an outsider willing to talk with them instead of blasting them into space goo with guns! Why, that just might be what they could really want out of the people outside of their proverbial and literal glorious mountain in the clouds.
… Why else would they have escorted Brynn and Hanso into such a beautiful, plush room filled to the brim with fine refreshment and a number of things to pass the time or help them prepare their case for the Pantheon?
Brynn whimpered pathetically. "Oh, Fyora."
Who was she trying to kid? The Evil Fuzzles weren't a patient, sophisticated and understanding race of Noble Space... Thingies! They were animals! Animals who reveled in destruction and consuming in excess! Animals who were probably all but closed to peaceful negotiation! Animals who would probably eat her for trying to open peaceful negotiations!
… As a matter of fact, this room they were in was probably their version of the Last Meal of Cheesus Toast! A twisted, cruel, ironic version of the Last Meal of Cheesus Toast...
She dropped to her knees. "Oh, Fyora... what did I just do?"
She quickly wished she hadn't asked that question, as the universe answered very quickly, in the most brutally honest way possible.
The first answer was that she didn't bring a gun, the single most important tool you could ever have on you should you try to negotiate with Evil Fuzzles. Sure, it didn't sound very diplomatic, but it was the Evil Fuzzles; the diplomatic side's packing heat was probably understood by both sides and looked upon without a second look or the bat of an eye.
The second answer was that had indirectly decided to fight the Evil Fuzzles with hand-to-hand combat should anything go wrong. Forget the fact that she was well-trained in turning her body into one of the most dangerous weapons Neopia had ever seen, these were Fuzzles; they'd chomp off her paws and limbs faster than she could take a swing at them, and even then, beating up Fuzzles was like offing someone with a metal spoon: horribly slow and extremely inefficient.
The third answer was that she had trapped herself. Not trapped in the sense that the doors wouldn't open—no, the doors were as efficient as they were beautiful—she was trapped in the sense that millions of Evil Fuzzles surrounded her in all directions, the only things stopping their eating her were two doors, four soundproof walls, a nice ceiling, and a pair of rocket boots that couldn't possibly outrun the speed they could go at, all facts made worse by the fact that she had voluntarily heaped all problems onto herself.
She fell forward to the floor and curled up like a sick puppy. She whimpered. "Oh, Fyora... I am so dead if I can't convince them."
A shroud of Despair coated over the Kougra. Whatever was left of her bravery and confidence was slowly and surely suffocated and blinded, the light that was her will power slowly fading away as Despair took over, wrapping its arms around her in a twisted, macabre version of the bear-hug.
All was lost.
Then, the Despair started purring and nuzzling itself into her neck in the most disturbing yet adorable way possible.
Even more was lost.
Suddenly, a spark of hope and determination lit up within her. The Despair looked up in confusion. Then, the inky blackness screamed and fled as a huge, blazing inferno of Hope burned its arms. Back! The Inferno commanded.
All went suddenly went silent in Brynn's psyche, the only sound being the gentle crackling of the Inferno's flames. It was a wonderful moment, this moment of peace and quiet... it was quite the nice change from the chaos and doom that had been consuming her.
The Inferno turned to Brynn. You okay, Brynn?
Brynn's claws wiggled.
Atta' girl. Now, since you're free from that Despair, get up.
Brynn whimpered.
Don't give me that. Get up.
I—we're... doomed."
No we're not. Get up.
Brynn just stayed there, motionless. Mind you, it wasn't because she didn't believe that it was worth it to get up; it was because she was pretty sure that the flaming, talking image in her eyes right now was a very sure sign that her two years of Virtupets Customer had finally started to unveil it's printed, much-advertised and very well-known side-effect: Permanent Brain Damage.
Okay, fine, I admit it: I'm technically just brain damage you conjured up due to extreme stress, but admit it, I'm giving you great advice.
Brynn had to give her Brain Damage a point in that category. The crack in her mental foundation seemed to be more helpful than she had originally thought.
Score One for Ms. Sam! That's me, by the way. Now score one for yourself and get up.
Why Sam of all names?"
Sam I am, by Dr. Seuss, my dear Brynneth.
Wow. Brynn decided that, since the the rip in her sanity had a name and referenced one of her most loved authors from now to all of eternity, it was now much, much more believable and trustworthy. Brynn put out one paw to the floor, and little by little, she started pushing herself up. She wasn't with the sliver of a doubt that she was actually nuttier than a fruitcake, though.
That's right. Get up. Get up for Sam, your new personal adviser who lives in your head.
She was now standing up, albeit in a slouching, unsteady matter.
Straighten yourself up, Boss.
Brynn obeyed. She wondered if it was a good idea to had done so. After all, this wasn't a spiritual being come to rescue her from the Sealed Evil in a Can, this was a byproduct of Brain Damage coming to overwrite a completely different form of Brain Damage. Granted, Sam was a lot better than Despair... she was more helpful, caring, concerned and a lot less vaguely... suggestive.
Plus, being called Boss was pretty awesome.
Atta go, Boss! That's the spirit! Get rid of all that Negativity you've been piling on yourself!
Brynn shrugged like an action hero about to go into Butt Kicking mode. Through that simple action, she felt all the negativity just literally fall off of her, like they were weights she had piled on herself just to make a stupid, unreasonable and harmful excuse for her failure. She stretched her muscles and made sure bone and joints cracked with the most wonderful crack they could produce.
She grinned like the over-confident Red Ranger in every Power Rangers ever. She wasn't afraid anymore. She was feeling strong. She was feeling confident. She felt like she could take this on—wait, no, she COULD take this on—she WOULD take this on! And she was going to win it because she was just that awesome!
Thanks, Sam; I needed that. Now schmooze me some more! I'm feeling selfish and greedy, in a good way."
You got it. You can do this boss. You WILL do this boss. You are Brynneth. You are strong. These Evil Fuzzles will be a cake walk for you. You will negotiate like no Neopet has ever negotiated before. You will destroy the Shadow Wraiths with the power of the Evil Fuzzles once—no, when you get them on your side. Flip Side will reign supreme once you do this. You will win. You and Flip Side will emerge victorious on the battlefield of warring Heavy Metal bands. As a matter of fact, you will do more than convince them; you will bring them to their knees! They will be like dogs, eagerly awaiting your orders! Once you go through that door, you will butter them up so much they will bend over from being so buttery they can't stand up like the hard, crusty, and burnt toast they are and then you'll be able to pick them up and eat their fat loaded selves and they won't care because you buttered them up so much!
... what?"
Just get out there, Boss... throw open those doors and become Flip Side's sole savior from the power of the Shadow Wraiths! I mean, not that we're gonna rely completely on the Fuzzles' help because we can't handle the Wraiths ourselves and—
It's okay, Sam; all that matters now is that it's time to present my case to the Evil Fuzzles! It's go time! Flip Side Alliance or Death!"
Brynn put both paws to the beautiful doors. She knew that in just a few moments, those doors would burst open dramatically, crashing to the sides to reveal her... complete with glorious, suddenly-appearing-for-no-reason light lighting her back up dramatically, too! Then, in her most epic and professional voice, she was going to announce "Pantheon, Evil Fuzzles, my name is Brynneth Gardien and I present to you my case!"
… or, at least, she would have done all that cool stuff, had Hanso not grabbed her from behind and held down her arms as strongly as he could.
Hanso, what are you doing?" Brynn cried as she struggled for freedom, "You're ruining my moment! Stop it and let me negotiate with the Evil Fuzzles, o—what's that buzzing noise? It doesn't sound very nice!"
I'h sho, sho shorry for doin' vhish, Vrynn..." Hanso garbled as he bit down on the button of his VirtuPets Paralzyer ©, "Vut trush vee: jule tank me latuh!"
