They arrived weeks later at mid-afternoon. Robin's leg had fully healed, his glamour repairing the broken bone with ease, and now he walked along the path, half-asleep. He'd made a bet with Capala that he could sleep standing up, and fully intended to do so.

Fission shouted. "We're here!"

Puck jerked his head up, looking around. They were still in the Wyldwood. "Here?" the trickster repeated. "Fission, I think you've been hit in the head one too many times."

Capala pinched him. "Hush, Robin," she said. "There's a trod. See?"

To their side, a little ways down the path, was a dark tunnel illuminated by sparking wires. The bush branches intersected with the metal cables that formed the passage, created a strange and beautiful mix of technology and nature. "This leads to our headquarters," Fission announced. "We're getting closer."

As Puck approached the tunnel, the wires and cables that composed it twisted and rose to the sky, making room to accommodate the people who walked on foot and even the people on horses. The jester felt the darkness wrap around him, a sudden cool settling on his skin and making him shiver. "Is this where it ends?" he wondered aloud. "Is Fission going to stab me in the back when I'm at my most vulnerable?"

"If you like," Fission said, his breath hot on the jester's ear, making him jump. "But I promised Miss Barla I wouldn't let any harm come to her friends or family, and I'd hate to break that promise."

Robin gigged nervously. "Ha, yeah, that's great. That's cool. Good. Please don't hurt me."

"I wouldn't dream of it." Sudden light filled the trod as Fission swung a door open, making Puck throw his arm over his eyes as his sight adjusted. When his vision cleared, his jaw dropped.

They stood on the top of a giant skyscraper, looking down on the world around them. Other massive steel buildings mirrored their own, and the sounds of cars echoed up from far below. The city glowed with electronic light, and while their height gave them a feeling of isolation, Robin still felt encapsulated in a huge, technological wonder. "Where are we?" he whispered.

"Tokyo," Fission replied. "Enough metal and technology to please us, and strange enough nobody looks at us twice. At least, the mortals don't."

"Not bad," Capala remarked. "But a tad obvious, don't you think?"

"We're not here to hide, Miss Capala. We're here to send a message."

"And that is?"

Fission winked. "That we are not to be trifled with."

Several important looking people emerged from a large room a few feet away, the doors parting to reveal an industrial elevator. "General," one of the arrivals said. "It's good you've come. The Founders need your presence."

Fission gestured to the soldiers and dryads behind him. "Take these dryads and bring them to the nearest park you can find. Keep them out of sight. Attend to their wounds as best you can. My soldiers will see to their own needs, and I will take these two," he gestured to Puck and Capala, "to the Founders."

The first speaker. "Whatever you think best, sir."

"I hope you don't mind," the general said, turning back to the two fey. "But I think you should meet my associates as soon as possible."

"I'd love to," Robin said, "but Summer and Iron don't mix very well, if you catch my drift."

"Oh. Right." Fission looked around the rooftop, momentarily flustered. "I will, um...just give me a minute, please."

With that, he vanished into the elevator, the slow hum of the machine descending into the building. Several other fey took the soldiers and the horses as they left the trod, dragging them into the elevator and going down to an unknown destination. Soon, all that remained were Puck, Capala, and the dryads. Alone on the rooftop, Robin felt tensions start to rise.

"Um, Robin?" Barla asked, her voice quiet and fearful. "Are they going to leave us up here?"

"Of course not," he said, his voice punctuated with a confidence he did not feel. "They just had to get the horses down first, to get them out of the way. They'll come back for us soon."

To his relief, someone did return. A young man, with a clipboard and a pen tucked behind his ear. "My name is Nax," he announced. "I've been told to escort you ladies to a place of safety. The walk through the building will be uncomfortable, I'm afraid, but we have access to a public park where you can hide while we find you a new place to stay. Please come with me."

He turned around and lead the dryads to the elevator, but Puck grabbed his arm to stop him. "What about us?" the trickster asked. "Where's Fission gone?"

"He will be back as soon as possible," Nax replied, shaking his arm free of Robin's grasp. "I assure you. But if you'll excuse me." Then he and the dryads entered the elevator and vanished from sight, leaving Capala and Puck all alone on the rooftops.

"Great," the jester muttered. "I really enjoy not knowing what the hell is going on."

"Relax, Robin," Capala said with a sigh. "I'm sure he's just trying to find a way to get you inside or something. Let's just be patient."

Puck grunted. "I don't know if you've noticed, Cap, but patience isn't my strong suit."

The woman chuckled. "No, I suppose not. But that's why you have me. To keep you from being reckless and stupid."

"This is true. But I gotta ask, what do you get out of this? Me?...Us?"

"...A laugh." She paused, looking surprised at her own answer. "I haven't had this much fun in a long time."

Puck cocked his head to one side. "You get a kick out of violence, tragedy and political intrigue?"

Capala bit her lower lip. "It's not so much fun, as feeling...alive. I just...I don't know. This, flawed as it is, is still better than running drills all day and doing whatever your superiors tell you."

"That's why I spend so much time out in the Wyldwood. Or did, anyway."

The woman raised an eyebrow. "Yeah?"

Robin nodded. "It's freeing. The Summer Court is great and all, but I have to report to Oberon. I have to deal with all the politicking fey. I have to avoid Titania, and make sure I don't get tricked by a bad bargain, and of course, deal with all the enemies I've collected over the years." A faint, wistful smile appeared on his face. "But in the Wyldwood, I can do whatever I want. Fight whoever I want, live however I want to live, and be anyone I want to be. There's no one telling me what to do or how I should do it."

"It sounds nice," Capala said, smiling. "I should try it sometime."

"You should." Puck's eyes flickered to the thick black hair framing the soldier's head, now down to shoulder length. "Your hair's getting even longer," he murmured.

"Is it?" She lifted a hand to play with the stray locks. "Haven't bothered to cut it. Probably should, though. It's not good for a fighter to have long hair. It'll get stuck in things or your opponents will yank on it."

"I like it." They shared a smile, then, and in the back of his mind Robin compared the pros and cons of getting caught making out on top of the rebel headquarters.

But no, fate decided he wouldn't get to cop a feel that day. Puck mumbled a curse under his breath as the rumble of the elevator rising to their level brought both fey out of their reverie. They jumped to their feet and waited for the doors to open.

The elevator opened and a crowd of soldiers leapt out. "Grab them!" an unknown voice shouted.

Their gun-wielding captors rushed them, grabbing their limbs before they had time to react. He struggled wildly, feeling Capala do the same beside him, but neither had any luck. Looking up, he saw Fission standing at the front of a group, speaking passionately to a woman watching them with cold, angry eyes. "Enough," the cold-eyed woman commanded, and Fission fell silent. "You've pushed me too far, Fission, and I refuse to allow Meghan's spies within our ranks."

"They're not spies, Gage!" the general shouted helplessly. "They're friends of the dryads. They're innocent!"

"Not her," the woman, Gage, growled, glaring at Capala. "She's an officer of the Iron Army. While you've been out rescuing useless neutral parties, General, our people at the Iron Court told us a Miss Capala and Robin Goodfellow were send out on Queen Meghan's personal command."

Fission looked to the pair, eyes wide. "Is this true?" he asked.

"It is," Puck admitted. "But we're not Iron spies. The dryads are my friends, and I went to protect them after the extremists issued them a threat. Capala offered to go with me. That's all."

"I'm sure," Gage snarled. "But I'm afraid you've given me no reason to trust you. You are going to rot in a holding cell until the war against Mad Meghan is over, and then we'll decide what to do with you."

"And when will that be?" Robin asked, his face poised in mock-innocence. "If you could give me a time frame, that'd be great. A few days? Few weeks?"

"It will end when the Queen is dead," the woman said, a smirk spreading across her lips. "And the True Iron Fey take over."

The trickster's jaw dropped. The false expression left his face. "You can't be serious!" he shouted. "This isn't a political uprising, this is a conspiracy! A coup!"

The smile fled from the Gage's face. "And Meghan is an incompetent queen, Goodfellow. She does not deserve to sit upon the Iron Throne!" She gestured to the soldiers surrounding them. "Take them away!"

The men holding the two fey began to drag them to the elevator, when Capala moved. Lightning fast, she threw her head up and bashed one of her captors in the nose, blood starting to stream down his face. She swept her legs around her and cracked the same man's knee before wrenching her arm around to bend his elbow the wrong way, finally making him release her. In the same breath she whipped around and jumped to bring her other captor into a headlock, two fingers jamming his windpipe and making his eyes go wide as he struggled to breathe. She darted forward and had her gun trained between Gage's eyes before anyone else could get close enough to stop her.

"If you want Meghan to die," she said, her voice low and dangerous, "I know someone who can help you."