Birds chirruped melodically in the morning air, going about their business with efficiency. The warming sun twinkled off a two parallel streams of water. Two waterfalls followed the stairs down to the track. Across the grounds, the building's foundations groaned as they warmed.

Mike stretched. After last night, today should be an easy day, he reasoned. And good thing too. I need to take the time to go familiarize myself with this place, and get to know these people better. Maybe-"

"All right," Winnie said, slapping her palms down on the principal's commandeered desk. "Last night's mission was a success. Our supplies have been replenished."

The assembled members of the Battlefront cheered. Richie the fifth licked his lips contentedly.

"But there is an issue. After last night's skirmish, our ammunitions have run dangerously low. So, today we will undergo operation: parachute!"

There came a collective groan.

Mike's mind spun. Operation… parachute? As it had with operation tornado, a vivid image sprung up in his mind, of him being chucked out of a plane and sent hurtling to the ground.

He shivered.

"But we were planning on breaking into the gym room and stealing some stuff for baseball!" Harry complained.

As the shutters were drawn, screen was pulled down, and lights dimmed, Fred frowned at the dissenter. "It is vital that we be prepared to fight at all times, moron. So shut the pie-hole, before I close it."

"But, but… why do we need to parachute?" Mike asked quietly. "I don't even know how to-"

"Today, we will parachute to the depths of the Guild," Fred explained, pacing in front of the screen. An exceedingly complicated schematic appeared, of an incomprehensible warren of tunnels, passages, and sewers. Mike squinted at in scrutiny, but it was quickly replaced with a table of different weapon types and their ammunition requirements.

"Hang on, hang on. We're going underground? And what's the Guild?"

Elliot stood, shoulders straightened dramatically. "The Guild is the breadbasket of the Battlefront," he explained. "It is essentially a manufacturing center, carefully hidden from divine forces deep in the recesses of this school's subterranean system, where the majority of our weapons are manufactured."

Hayley rolled her eyes. "Thanks for the ear-bleed, Elly." She smiled at Mike. "Pretty much Mike, it's where all our technically gifted members-'

"Geeks," Emmanuel snorted.

"Essential members," she continued, "work to create our weapons, ammunitions, and whatever else we may need that we can't find in the school."

"Hold on, hold on," Mike put down, looking around. "A factory? Beneath a school? You can't be serious. How could you manufacture things?"

Fred groaned in exasperation, tapping her laptop impatiently. "Grr… Mike, you need to be more flexible. Any chance of you just accepting it and going along with it?"

He frowned at her, doing his best to look tough.

"This is so stupid…" Hannah muttered

"Hmmph. Whatever. TK, could you go show him?" Winnie sighed.

Before Mike could say anything, TK threw his leader a salute, and vaulted out the window.

They heard his rough voice singing away as he sprung to a stop, then it faded as he danced away.

They didn't have to wait long. Seconds later, TK burst once more through the door, spinning. He came to a rest in front of Mike, and knelt, face inscrutable behind his red bandana.

Mike stood, uncertain. There appeared to be something held in TK's palmed hands. He leaned in closer. Huh. It was dirt.

TK smiled, and might have winked, it was hard to tell. Straightening up, he began to compress the dirt between his heavy palms. He twisted and twisted, and as he worked, he whistled. "Take a sad song, and make it beeeeetter."

He soon finished twisting. Mike jerked back, startled, as TK suddenly put his hand around his neck.

But instead of feeling the twinkle of soil, a sudden weight was placed around his neck.

He fingered his neck, in awe. TK had given him a necklace, with a worn leather loop, and a carved wooden peace sign.

"How…" he asked.

"This world is special," Luke replied softly.

Winnie nodded. "It's true. In most ways, this place resembles any normal high school. But, it isn't. This is the afterlife."

She hesitated, seeming uncertain. "Not long after I arrived here, I discovered something unusual. In this world, we have the power to create. Anything we want, as long as we know how to make it, we can make from dirt."

The power to create? Mike wondered. "But… that makes us…"

"It does seem odd, yeah, that God would give us powers like his." She frowned again, eyes searing. "But it doesn't make up for the rest. We use this power to the best of our advantage. Those who are familiar with the construction of weapons work in the Guild, where they make them on a mass scale. The Guild's location is kept secret, to keep it from Angel. Obviously, if she were to reach our center of war, we would have no method of defeating her."

"No more questions!" she called. "Operation parachute: Start!"

Mike carefully aimed his gun at the entrance to the auditorium, looking outside anxiously as his friends behind him worked. There was no sign of her…

"All right, it's ready!" Richie called. They had pulled away a section of the base of the stage, revealing a dark nook. Mike appraised it doubtfully.

"Right! Everyone set?" Winnie called.

Harry scratched his head. "Hey… has anyone seen Jake?"

"That moron. Probably still sulking bout getting his halberd scratched last night."

"Whatever," Winnie dismissed. "No time to wait for him." And, one by one, they crouched into the nook, and descended the concealed ladder beyond.

Mike struggled down the rungs, hands reaching for invisible holds in the darkness. As he fell, the air grew cold, and as clammy as a skeleton's grasp.

With a grunt, he jumped off the ladder to join back with the party. Thankfully, the tunnel, a long, straight path supported by wooden beams, was lit by old lamps, illuminating-

"Hold it right there…" a voice called out from the murky glow.

"Aw geez…" Emmanuel groaned.

Jake stepped from the shadows. "You! New guy! I haven't accepted you as part of the Battlefront yet!"

Everyone groaned. "It's this moron," Emmanuel grumbled.

Mike glared back at his challenger. "Oh yeah? I don't need your acceptance."

Jake laughed manically; teeth glinted with menace as he drew near, halberd twirling expertly. "Is that so? In that case, I'll just have to show you a little-'

The remainder of his speech was cut off by the arrival of a massive hammer connecting with his head.