AN: Weeeeeeere baaaaaaaaack… :D Ladies and germs, children of teenages, thus begins the next arc of our wonderful journey. I'm sorry to have kept you all waiting so very long, but my muses come and go as they please, and they tend to go after a period of high productivity. A lot has happened since then; I'd traveled out of the country over the summer, and this fall I'd returned to college for another shot at an education. Trying to enforce good study habits and get good grades for the first time since high school has taken most of my effort in the last few months, and just now that I'm finishing up with my midterms do I have the grasp on my workload that I'd needed to spend time on other things. Like this! So buckle your seatbelts and get ready for some fun!

Chapter 9: Upgrades

It had been three days since Finn returned from the rock off with Forge Titan Thoros. The first day he had mostly slept, with the other two spent lazing around the treehouse playing BMO; neither was uncommon for him after taxing adventures, and he still wore bandages on the various minor injuries he had received. It hadn't been the most damaged the human boy had been, but between the amount of fighting done and the environment it had been done in, it was definitely a contender for the most exhausting adventure he'd had.

"Man, I still can't believe you got cut up that bad. I shoulda gone with ya," Jake said for the bazillionth time since. "It's big bro's job to look after his little bro, little bro."

Finn could only smile and humor his bro. "I know bro-dog, but you gotta let it go," he insisted. "We can't always be everywhere with each other, so stuff like this is gonna happen every now and then."

Jake whined a bit, but relented. "Yeah, I know bro-man. Just got the guilty feelings, that's all."

"Well, let's look on the bright side," Finn offered. "Gots an upgrade."

"Yeah, sure, whatever," Marceline said, relieved that Thoros turned out to be a friend in the end, but fully sick of him and his entire lair. "I'm keeping the axe, and if you don't like it, well, tough. See you at the exit, Finn."

"Okay, see ya there," the boy responded, before turning back to Thoros. "So, how 'bout that prize?" He waggled his eyebrows cheekily.

"Ahh, yes," the old metal-man said. "I have something I think you'll particularly appreciate, swordsman. Another of what I call my 'Old Works'; I broke my teeth on these when I was somewhere around your age, if I remember correctly…"

"Wow," Finn said, scratching the back of his head. "I don't mean to be all rude to an elder, but that sounds like a long flobbin' time ago, Mr. Thoros."

The Forge 'Titan' laughed, a wheezing, wizened sound. "Ohohohoh, indeed it was, young man, indeed it was. I have worked this craft for some time. Long before the time of Ooo, when humans still walked these lands." He turned, cupping his hands around his mouth before yelling, "Yo, tony! Bring the sharp one!"

A voice called back, questioning; "The harp gun?"

"No, ya mook!" Thoros returned. "The SHARP one! The ox cutter!" The response from Tony was an unintelligible cross between shout and grumble; the elder smith shook his head. "What a shmuck… Ah, but he's a loyal shmuck."

"Hmmm…Humans? You mean, humans like me?" The Last Human had been just about done, what with the fatigue of the quest and the temperature of the locale, but at the mention of his kin, there was nothing he could do but listen. He'd barely noticed the dialog between the metal people.

Thoros straightened suddenly, before turning and fixing him with an appraising stare. He held it for a long while, to Finn's growing discomfort, before turning away again as Tony approached. "Yes," he said. "Like you. But they are no longer. Now, here. You don't want to keep your friend waiting, do you?"

Thoros passed the item from hand to hand, and Finn took it with a gleam in his eye. It was a blade, a long saber, straight for the first two thirds before curving gently for the last third of length, with a one-handed hilt and a basket to protect the fingers. As Finn drew it from the scabbard the dull glow fell across a length of gunmetal grey forging, dull in color but with an odd luster, with a graceful taper, supple flex, an acute point, and a single edge, sharper than any Finn had felt before. He ran his nail across it, and before his finger traveled a hand's width, the metal had notched his fingernail and nicked his fingertip to bleeding. He was breathless. "Wwwwwow that's hella sharp…" Even just pulling the edge from his skin, the last human marveled at its balance and liveliness in his hand.

"Yeah, all that sounds really fancy," Jake said, recalling the story. The blade, sitting in its brown-wrapped wooden scabbard, hung from Finn's left hip, opposite from his bag.

"Yeah I know," Finn responded. "Thoros talked like, mondo lots. Almost like Bubblegum, but older. And not as easy to look at."

Jake snorted, chortling; "Hah-hah! Wow. But he just gave you the sword and pushed you out the door? Sounds pretty odd, since you said he was bein' all buddy-buddy before…"

Finn nodded once. "Yeah that's what I thought. And he said some pretty cryptic things you know? Old stuffs back when there were humans. Like way back."

Jake scrunched his face up, gears clearly clanking and clonking up in his noggin. "Exactly how far back we're talkin' here is gonna be important bromite. The time of humans is flobbin' huge compared to the recorded history of Ooo."

The last human sighed, slumping down on the couch which they sat upon. "Yep…"

"You know what I'm gonna say. We should go see…"

"Bubblegum… Bubblegum, I know," Finn finished for his bro, turning his frown upside down. "Let's go do it, buddy. We'll see what Princess Bubblegum knows about Thoros. Shouldn't be too strenuous."

The dynamic duo bumped fists before getting ready steady to hit the road. Curiously enough, as they set out to seek the council of the Princess, council was already being given.

"Um, what?" The pink princess wore a light, breathable lavender dress and an expression of abject confusion. "Run that by me again? I've been field testing new hardware with the Gumball Guardians, I think I may have some tinnitus."

Marceline groaned quietly in exasperation. "I think…" She began again, already tired of explaining herself twice. "I think I've got a crush on Finn."

Bubblegum dropped what she'd been working on so intently, swearing under her breath as she reached down instinctively to grab it only to smack her forehead against the workbench as she did. "Glob damn it, really Marceline?" She frowned at the vampire queen's amused smirk, before turning back to her work. "I'd tell you you'd better be kidding but I know by your tone that you're not."

"Yeah, I'll bet you do," she jabbed back at Bubblegum, rolling her eyes. "But seriously, I'm pretty puzzled here. Any hints?"

Bubblegum opened a tube of mechanical lubricant, sending an orangey scent wafting through the room. "I hear ya, but what exactly are you expecting of me?"

"Well, maybe challenge whatever my thoughts are?" the vamp rocker said with a sly grin. "You've always been great at that, you know…"

The princess, despite her irritation at the interruption, couldn't help but grin in response. "Yeah, true that," she said. "Well, I guess you should start at what it is about him that you find attractive. Whatever it is, I'll never understand it."

"Hey, not needed," Marcie retorted, exasperated again at her friend's teasing. "Well he's always been a mush, to start with."

"You've got some rosy glasses on about that," PB said, rolling her eyes at the thought of Finn, age 12. "Though I suppose you didn't have to deal with him as much as I did, back then."

"Yeah. And trust me, the boy's grown up, at least some." Marceline and PB were an obvious item, being of long life, but not true immortality such as that of Grob Gob Glob Grod, or the Cosmic Owl. They understood each other expressly, and had formed as fast friends almost immediately after they met.

A secret alliance between Marceline's undead and the Candy Kingdom didn't hurt matters. Marceline traded physical protection against invasion and agents abroad for Bubblegum's scientific acumen on a broad range of topics, including but not limited to defensive measures against common techniques of killing undead, to the production of synthetic blood fit for vampire consumption.

Added to the deal had been the promise to restrain certain assets and prevent them from operating to heavily against friendly undead communities. The politics of Ooo were rather complex.

"Well, I haven't seen him for quite a while, so I couldn't really say. I've been cooped up with the Gumball Guardians for several months, you know." PB waved her hands over the workbench, strewn with parts. "I'm beginning to think I might need an assistant or two. This stuff is a lot of handwork. Oh, but go on, please."

"Well… I had gone on some trip with him a couple of days ago to this cave with treasure in it, and we came across a bunch of goons. The kid's deadly, PB. Freaky deadly. Like those Rattleball guys you used to have. But softer and warmer. With nicer eyes, too." Bubblegum's raised eyebrow was all that was needed to make Marceline elaborate, albeit hesitantly. "Ugh… Look, stuff happened, and I got fried really badly. You know how that's like. And he saved me, and guarded me, and helped me recover. But he didn't whisk me away like some damsel in distress; he kept me in the game and helped me win, and now I can't get him out of my head. I kissed him, for Gob's sake! Yeah, on the cheek, but still…"

PB had a look of clinical certainty on her face. "Ok, I see what's up. The two of you went through an event with a high degree of danger, with only each other to rely on. The accompanying emotional intensity of being entirely reliant on one person for your safety and perhaps even survival did not end when you were no longer in danger. You still trust him as though you were still fighting for each other's' lives. You still associate safety with his presence, and you still feel stress when he's not around, because in your mind, you're still isolated and vulnerable to attack when he's not watching out for you, and vice versa. Likely, you also associate him with comfort, since he nursed you back to health after a life-threatening wound, however short of a time it took." Marceline tilted her head, her face clearly expressing how much of that diagnosis had stuck. The pink princess sighed. "In short, the affection you had for him when you were adventuring together has transferred into infatuation now that the adventure is done, exacerbated by what you describe as a pre-existing physical attraction."

"Oh, okay. So what's that mean practically?"

"Well, emotional attachments can form from almost anything, if conditions are right. What usually determines whether it'll be a good or bad relationship is the mindset and behavior of the couple. I'm sure I don't need to tell you about what kills relationships. Ultimately, it's gonna be you who'll have to decide if something is worth pursuing or if it's ultimately not worth the potential for pain."

"Hmmmh…" Marceline frowned, rolling onto her belly and propping up her head on her hands, lounging about on her levitation powers. "Age is the 600-pound bear in the room…"

"He will die someday," PB said, something that Marceline didn't want or need to hear. The vamp sat on a stool at the workbench next to the princess, head still in hands. "He's the luckiest being I've ever met and he's not even fully grown, but nothing like him lives forever. And I know you know how that turns out."

"Yeah. No kidding." The Vampire Queen was as glum as PB'd seen her short of tears. Tears were almost unheard of from her, even in as long as they'd known one another. The number could be counted on fingers and toes, easily. "Damn your voice of reason…"

PB wiped her hands with a rag, before standing and hugging Marceline gently around the shoulders, front to back. "I know this is rough for you," she said softly, sarcasm gone for sympathy. Marceline hated to be pitied, but sometimes PB had a way of making it a comforting gesture anyways.

The undead lady sighed. "Thanks Peebs," she said. "But I think I should get going. I'm thinking I should go play some music. Alone."

Bubblegum nodded once, returning to her work with a small smile still upon her lips. "You know I'll be around if you want to talk some more, duties permitting."

Marceline nodded as she floated towards the window, still smiling at her old friend. "Thanks," she said again, before departing.

"Marceline and… Finn?" The scientist wondered aloud. "Hm."

At that moment, there came a knock at the door. "Princess?" came the voice of Peppermint Butler. "Finn and Jake are here to see you. Shall I send them in, or tell them to return when you're free?"

"Huh," she huhed. "Speak of the devil… No, it's fine, let them enter."

The door swung open by PB's manservant, Finn and Jake entered the workshop. "Heya, PB," Finn said, waving in greeting, Jake waving as well. "How's all that science coming along?"

"Finn, Jake," PB greeted politely. "It's coming along rather well. We're just about ready to issue the new kit."

Jake cocked his head in confusion. "New kit?"

Bubblegum picked up one of the pieces she'd been working on, snapping it together. "Weapons. Specifically, firearms. They use small explosions to propel bits of metal at immense velocities. These are a dated design, even in terms of Pre-Mushroom War technology, but the advanced tech I used in the Gumball Guardians is too taxing on resources to produce in significant numbers. They're still quite potent, though. Powerful, reliable, and robust. They can launch an 8-gram steel-cored projectile at almost 2500 feet per second."

"Okay, niiiiice, but what for?" Jake questioned. "Between the Guardians, you, me, Finn, Peppermint Butler, Marceline, Rattleballs, and the Banana Guards, things seem pretty well covered."

"Well you see, we've been very successful against our current enemies, but if we encounter a new one suddenly, we could be caught off guard. For a nation like the Candy Kingdom, any sort of change or improvement takes a large amount of time to be carried out, so we need to increase our capabilities before we find an enemy who we can't easily defeat. If we start building new weapons when we find that enemy, it might be too late. We're a strong nation, but the candy people are still very vulnerable to attack; they're completely incapable of defending themselves. So I'm going to be reinstating the Gumball Guards; with some modifications, of course, to work out the issues that we had with the Mark I series. Rattleball will coordinate with the Gumball Guardians to lead them as the candy kingdom's military force, so that the Banana Guards can focus on law enforcement and protecting the citizenry. The Gumball Guards will operate almost exclusively beyond the walls of the Candy Kingdom, projecting force throughout the local regions, and keeping them well away from the candy people. And these will help them," Bubblegum hefted the weapon, a long, flat-topped rifle with a curved, banana-shaped box magazine and a long, rectangular barrel shroud terminating to reveal a four-pronged flash hider. The barrel shroud had a rail running down from the front sight and terminating half way down the top of the weapon's body. The rollmark on the side of the weapon read '7.62x39mm AK'. "These will be their weapons. I've decided that the addition of long range capabilities will work well for the Mark II model's more patient, methodical mentality. It'll give them the ability to engage enemies at up to 350 meters, though I suspect that, what with all the different kinds of monsters they could encounter, that they will still find plenty of use for their swordsmanship. Still, it will allow for a much more defensive method of fighting, since the Gumball Guards will be able to fight without need charging into danger. I suspect that this will be particularly advantageous in encounters against those goo zombies, the ones that got James."

Finn whistled, putting a thumb up. "Nice nice nice. Should give 'em an edge."

"Yes, my thoughts exactly," Bubblegum said with a smile, setting the weapon down. "If you'd like, I could set one aside for you. But I'd have to teach you how it operates, for safety reasons. There are rules that need to be followed religiously to ensure safe handling."

"Ehhh, thanks but no thanks. Not really my style. Sides, I just got an upgrade." He indicated to the new sword at his waist. "From Thoros, the Forge Titan." Finn frowned slightly. "Wasn't much of a titan, honestly."

"Wait…" PB had begun work on the rifle again, but set down her tools and stood up straight, turning in her chair. "Who?"

"Um… Thoros, the Forge Titan?" Finn winced at that tone; it always meant the princess had bad news, in his experience. "I went with Marceline, to help her get a guitar that her ex-boyfriend Ash had written about in a journal. We beat him in a rock off so he gave Marcie the guitar, and gave me this crazy-sharp sword. Also he said some stuff about from before the Mushroom War, when there were still lots of humans, but when I asked him about it he clammed up and rushed me out the door."

Jake looked up at his bro with an expression that asked 'really?' Finn shrugged sheepishly, as PB stewed over what she'd heard. "That's the 'tell me more' voice," he whispered to Jake discretely. "You don't ignore the 'tell me more' voice."

PB paced over to the nearest window, planting her hands on the windowsill and leaning her weight on them. "Finn, I've got a mission for you," she began to explain, still staring out into space. "Earlier this week, I traded messages with Flame Princess, asking for her assistance on something involving her knowledge of fire magic and fire-based creatures. She's due to arrive today, according to her responses. I want you and Jake to meet her at the border of the Fire Kingdom, and ensure that the rest of her journey goes quickly and smoothly. Keep her party safe, and keep them on time. Can you boys do that for me?"

Finn nodded, expression now all business. "Absolutely," he said, Jake echoing in agreement. "We'll be back, with FP in tow, as soon as possible."

"Thanks Finn," PB said, her smile returning. "Now off with you two." She watched them leave, before striding back to her workbench. She cradled one of the rifles in her arms, still surprised by how heavy it was; the schematics she was using had detailed the weapon's weight as 8 pounds unloaded, but seeing the number didn't give any impression of actually feeling those 8 pounds. "Hoof," she grunted, pressing the stock into her shoulder as she settled in against it, knees bent slightly, elbows in tight, finger off the trigger, and lifted the weapon until her cheek made contact with the stock, her eyes aligned with the sights. She exhaled gently, slipping her finger into the trigger guard applying gradual, smooth pressure, bit by bit until she hit the 'break', the very moment that the mechanism dropped the firing pin on the chamber, firing the round. The weapon was dry, of course; in keeping with strict safety procedures, they were to be kept unloaded whenever they were not in use, and especially during disassembly and maintenance, which firearms required frequently and consistently if they were to operate at peak capacity. This design was particularly merciful in terms of cleaning and lubrication, but even so, it would begin to malfunction if mistreated.

Bubblegum slowly relaxed her finger's pressure, until she felt the mechanism reset. Had the weapon been loaded, that would be the moment where it was ready to fire its next shot. They had no full-auto function; from Bubblegum's reading and research, automatic fire was wasteful in most situations, so she'd opted to omit the option completely. "Things are moving faster than I thought," she sighed, setting the heavy rifle down and slumping onto her stool, the exhaustion of her work catching up to her suddenly. "Time to find Marceline and try to figure out how much damage has been done."