He stomped down the hallway, his breaths quick and short. He was FUMING. Betrayus had hit him plenty of times, but to hit that boy was way too far. He deeply regretted doing nothing, but to do something would likely get him in physical danger as well.

He couldn't help but be somehow reminded of that day… that awful day. He remembered how those slimy eyeballs were in his palms, and how he had squished them. Sure Betrayus was technically the one who killed them (or perhaps, that honor went to his brother who was the executioner), but he was the one ordered to make them not exist… forever. He dared not resist lest he end up like that boy did, but by the Overlords did it hurt.

It was all his fault the Resistance lost that war. He was a double agent; a spy. The other members of the Resistance were always nothing but kind to him (save for the one called Spheria). Radia was there too after she defected, and she of course ratted him out. But by then it was too late. Betrayus already had all the info he needed to launch a sneak attack and reign victorious.

Zac and Sunny were always especially kind to him, and in spite of his best efforts he had found himself growing fond of them in return. Then there was their son. Little Pac. He had the honor of holding the baby boy a few times; the infant would always squeal and giggle with delight.

So when Betrayus won and ordered them all to be executed, he was horrified. Before he crushed the eyes of the yellow orbs, he at least managed to mutter a quick apology before doing the awful deed.

He had spent 15 years regretting it, not knowing how to live with himself. He dared not tell the heir he was responsible for the ultimate demise of his parents, his aunt… everyone. So having to see and deal with him every day was torture.

Buttler continued on his way toward Pac's room, hands tucked behind his back. He knocked on the door.

"Go away, dad."

"It's me, young master."

"Oh. The butthead."

"May I enter?"

"Whatever."

Buttler stepped in, and sat down next to a still teary-eyed Pac. "I see you're wearing that gift I got you."

"Yeah."

"Are you alright?"

"No…"

"I understand."

"You don't understand anything!"

"I do. More than you know."

They sat there for a few minutes. "I'm sorry he hit you."

"Sure."

"I am."

Buttler put a hand on Pac's back.

"If he EVER puts his hands on you again, tell me."

"I just don't know what to do. We had this huge plan! And that blueberry ruined all of it!"

"Yes, I heard. Quite an unfortunate scenario."

"And I had no choice but to come back! Or dad would hurt my fr-" Pac stopped.

"Friends?"

"I don't know if they're even my friends…"

"Why do you say that?"

"That girl only spent time with me because my dad made her."

"And the others?"

"..."

"Well?"

"I don't know."

"This must all be so much for such a young mind… none of this alright."

"Now someone tells me."

"Listen… I think I can help."

"Huh?"

"Trust me."

"Sure?"

Buttler began to rub Pac's back in an attempt to comfort the yellow orb. Pac tried to talk, but all that came out was a sound resembling a choke. Before Buttler could ask what was wrong, Pac threw himself upon the butler, enveloping him in a hug as he began to sob once again. Buttler returned the hug, and began to cry with him.

"Oh young master, it will be alright. I promise."

"In what way could it possibly be alright?!"

"It's common knowledge that a good portion of the population loathes your father. If we could just get them to build up enough courage, we could outnumber him. Then of course, we'd have to deal with the loyal ones, such as my brother."

"That old guy, Mr C, he was gonna build some cool stuff to help."

"Ah. I believe that might come to fruition with the proper accommodations."

"Stop using those big words! My brain hurts!"

"My apologies."

"Stop!"

"I'm saying that man could build them with some help."

"Let's do it."
"Not so fast. We have to go about this carefully."

"Oh. Right."

"But trust me lad, your father's day of reckoning is near."

"Er-hem. Big words cause brain hurty."

"I'm sorry. Now, you should get some rest for tomorrow. If you ask me, I think it'd be best to keep a low profile for a while. I wish you the best of luck, young man."

He was making his way to the door, when…

"Hey."

"Hm?"

"Thank you."

Buttler smiled, a genuine smile. He then continued on his way. They door shut behind him, and he was so engrossed in his own thoughts that he neglected to watch where he was going. BUMP!

"Watch it you old fart", Blinky said as he dusted himself off.

"Oh-"

"Waddya doin' in there?"

"The heir is quite troubled."

"I can imagine."

"His father struck him I'm afraid."

"WHAT?!"

Blinky was horrified, then angry. "When I get to him I'm gonna SO clobber his white Pacside with Pac Fu!"

"Not wise. Even if you were to succeed, Pac Fu is not for revenge."

"You're right, and I hate that."

He and Blinky had never gotten along, especially since that day. The feeling of hatred certainly wasn't mutual, Buttler would repay Blinky's glares and obscene gestures with nonchalance.

"Listen… I know you loathe Betrayus as much as everyone else."

"Yeah and?"

"I was thinking", Buttler began to whisper lest the cameras heard, "there's strength in numbers."

Blinky immediately got the idea, and began to whisper back.

"You implying we ought to rebel?"

"Yes."

"Already on it."

"Oh?"

"Me and the other three are gonna help that lemon ball take down his dad. You in?"

"Of course. What was your idea?"

"Mostly to get some people and storm his office while he's in there."

"Your idea certainly has merit, but how reckless!"

"Oh please, like you can come up with something better!"

"Quite so- perhaps we can in fact get some rebellious folk, but we'll need firepower."

They went back and forth, and finally came to an understanding. Finally, for the first time in years there seemed to be a glimmer of hope, no matter how faint.