"sublvl 12 storage room, u know the one. knock thrice then give the pass. need a piece o ur strong arms. plz n thx bby 33 ps be sneaky about it u got this kk"

Crump glanced down at the text displayed on his communicator. Loyally following the instructions as assigned, he boarded the next elevator bound for sublevel 12. At this time, most of the X-Nauts were either on the deeper residential floor or picking up their rations from within the dining area. As a result, he was able to enjoy the peace of being alone for a bit. He exhaled and leaned back against the wall for a short moment as he waited to be carried to his destination.

Soon enough, he arrived and exited into the empty hallway. If he was correct, the message was probably talking about the storage room… back there. His destination set, he exited towards the right. Then he turned left, then right, then left again, then left once more…

Finally, he stood in front of his target. He faced a mechanical door with a red lamp glowing above it. He reached out his fist and knocked – once, twice, thrice. Then, leaning in, his breath hitched and he muttered the words in a low voice… "fuzzy pickles." With this step properly completed, he paused and waited for a response from beyond.

Click! A sound rang out from the entryway, and the door slid open. A pair of goggles peered out from within. "C'mon, quickly! Get on in here!" Obediently, Crump tiptoed in, and the door locked behind them.

Scattered across the floor were boxes of snacks and candy, along with several empty garbage bags. The red-garbed, white-capped X-Naut soldier standing next to the mess placed his hands on his hips and stared up at Crump. "Hey, took you long enough! I was about to start loading the stuff up without you. I thought little ol' me was going to have to nab the goods all by myself… I wasn't made for this whole heavy labor thing, y'know? I'm a fragile little guy. My arms are all stringy, like wet spaghetti." The "fragile little guy" wriggled his arms around a bit, for emphasis.

Crump stared down at the rather average-looking X-Naut. This… was Johnson. Everything about him seemed ordinary on the surface. Not a thing notable about him.

Personality-wise, though...

When male X-Naut children became ready to cross over into the realm of a full-fledged X-Naut adult, they were administered a series of tests that determined which career path they were best suited for. There was a long, mind-numbing written and lab performance portion that tested their academic ability, and a gut-wrenching, strenuous physical portion that tested their athletic ability. If you got a high score on the written test, you got put on the training path to become an X-Naut PhD. If you got a high score on the physical test, you got put on the training path to become an Elite X-Naut. Happened to get lucky and score high on both? Well, your pick. Only seven people had managed to do that since Amadeus stepped up to the throne.

Johnson was one of the rare X-Nauts who had scored high enough on both. Flying colors in every category, actually. The only other person Crump personally knew who had made great marks on both tests was Grodus, and he had screwed up at the end of his physical test by falling face-first into a pit that wasn't even intended to be a part of the obstacle course, then sat there with a broken arm until someone came and pulled him out with a crane about two hours later.

Johnson picked to be a PhD, since there were invisibility potions readily available in the labs. What exactly he wanted them for, Crump didn't know, and probably would never find out.

He'd done fairly well at his job for about the first week. After that, he got bored and started sleeping in as late as he possibly could without getting immediately fired by his superiors. When asked why he wasn't checking in on time, he would say "Well, inspiration strikes at strange times! You see, I had this great idea, so I just had to write it down right then, right there. No, no, no, it couldn't have waited until I got to the lab. Strokes of genius only last an instant! If you don't run with them, they won't wait for you!" Unfortunately, he seemed to forget his notes in his room every time. Then, when he got back to his room, he "couldn't find them".

This lasted about two months or so. One day, Johnson decided to come to work so drunk that he couldn't see straight. He walked in, staggered around one of the labs for a little bit, then fell into a tank where he started doggy paddling around in circles.

There was a massive panic, that is, until someone called for the coincidentally nearby Grodus to come help "save" Johnson (who, apparently, they thought was drowning). Not that it made the situation any better. When Grodus tried to pull Johnson out, Johnson glomped him around the waist and sent both of them tumbling in. Grodus responded to this by discharging a wildly aimed electric spell, ultimately shutting off all the power in that section of the base.

Nobody was really happy about that one. Johnson got thrown into a cell. Oh, and he got banned from getting anywhere near the labs for at least a year afterwards. He was demoted to being an ordinary X-Naut, where he fit in a lot better. He was happy with this arrangement for a few weeks. But, then he got bored again.

And decided that his "actual" dream was to be a radio spokesperson.

Dead set on this idea, Johnson made an appeal to the X-Naut Fortress Daily Report, an official group who ran the X-Naut Fortress's exclusive news radio channel. Every morning at about 8:00 or so, they would come on and ramble about the latest news, then would shut off at about 10:00 A.M. Johnson told them that he wanted to be head reporter, since he would be able to "take their geeky chatterfest and spice it up a bit".

They didn't ever reply back. Johnson was crushed.

...Actually, that's incorrect. He pretended to be crushed, then hacked into their computer and took matters into his own hands.

The next morning, a very passionate rant about bean farms or something blared out through almost every active radio in the fortress, followed by a moving (and original) musical performance ("Of Love and Lemons", v7). Johnson was forcibly removed midway and placed back into his cell.

The day after, Johnson was released with a warning, and he doggedly hacked the computers again mere moments after he was freed. They threw him in jail again, he got out, rinse and repeat. After spending the night in jail three more times, Johnson snuck some supplies in with him and learned to hack from inside his cell. The guy was a genius, really. He just applied his talents in less-than-savory ways.

Eventually, everyone just gave up and let him do what he wanted. Since he got bored easily, it was rare for him to cause trouble in one area for too terribly long. His direct superiors generally stopped assigning him any real work unless he specifically expressed interest, despite the fortress continuing to provide the bare minimum food and shelter for him. He was a force of nature.

But all that was kind of irrelevant at the moment. The point being, Johnson was the weirdo that had summoned Crump to the sublevel 12 storage room.

They definitely were not intended to have access to this room.

The foot soldier crouched down on the ground and began sorting through boxes. "I've got four trash bags here, two for you and two for me. Load 'er up, but not too much, it'll look too fishy. There's some of those Lil' Crunchers over here… you like those, right? They've got the pizza ones. Here, take a bag or five!" Johnson slid a bag across the floor in Crump's direction. Crump stared down into the eyes of the familiar anthropomorphic chip-shaped mascot, then scooped it into one of the provided garbage bags. He scooted over and crouched down next to his friend.

"Neato, I'll take that. How 'bout any Chuckola Colas?"

"Oh snap, yeah, we should grab those for sure. I saw some over there. Third shelf from the left, two up, third box." He motioned over towards the shelf in question. "Let me know if you find any Cocoa Clumps, by the by. I need those for a very important purpose. Like, I seriously NEED them."

The two fished around like this for approximately half an hour, taking their time perusing the available goods. One observing would get the impression that the two were visiting the grocery store, not casually committing theft. Finally, their bags loaded, they nodded at each other. The pair appeared satisfied.

"Good work, my loyal assistant," Johnson purred as he crossed his arms and nodded. "You have done well on this day. Now comes the most critical part of the mission – we must transport these to a safe location. Once we have ensured the safety of the merchandise, we have a very important trade to attend to. Our confidant awaits us within the sublevel 6 prosthetics laboratory. You got that?"

"Yeah, yeah. You're not storing this in my room, you know that, right? My space is an official contraband free zone. …Mostly, I mean."

You bet your butt I'm taking at least one of those Chuckola Colas with me for later tonight.

"As agreed, dear assistant. I am a man of my word, after all. Your share shall remain in a safe location, accessible to you whenever you so please. Just gimme a shout."

Crump hoisted his trash bags over his shoulder with his left hand and raised his right in a thumbs-up. Johnson, oddly ecstatic, mimicked him by returning the gesture.

And thus, the two set off. Together, they navigated to the sublevel 12 elevator once more. From there, they would transfer onto sublevel 8, then hop into the elevator that led down into the male residential area.

Naturally, though, not all would go according to the plan. As soon as they exited into the residential area and joined the crowds walking to and fro, a voice called out behind them. "Hey, you two! What do you have there?" The two turned and sighted an Elite suspiciously staring in their direction, his gaze firmly locked on their bulging trash bags.

Aw cruuuuuud.

Johnson leaned in close and whispered. "Shhhh, don't panic. This is what I'm here for. I've got this, just believe in me, okay?" He raised his hand up to his head and performed an Earth-style salute, stalwartly locking eyes with his companion. Crump found his confidence renewed. Of course, Johnson could be a smooth talker when he wanted to. Surely he had something up his sleeve?

Abruptly, Johnson dropped his pose and charged towards the Elite.

"Don't worry about me, Crumpy!" he called back. "This is a sacrifice for a worthy cause! I believe in you! FULFILL YOUR DESTINYYYYYY!"

As he did this, he leapt off the ground and skillfully aimed a powerful kick at the Elite's face. This move would have been surprisingly cool, had he not bounced off the Elite's forehead, sailed directly over the top of his victim, caught his balance like a cat, and then started racing away in the opposite direction. It didn't take long for him to speed around the corner, disappearing from sight entirely. Crump could only stare, stunned at the absolute audacity on display.

"Crud, are you for real!?" was all Crump could comment as the Elite turned towards him.

Unfortunately, Crump was generally not as good at evading capture. However, such a small plight was not worth giving up the prizes that he had worked so hard for. His future, his merit as a soldier... all of it relied on this! But in such a drastic situation, just how could he possibly survive!?

So, his loot firmly secured at his side, Crump spun around on his heels and started running. Oh, how he ran.

They continued this wild sprint for a while, bumping into plenty of confused innocents along the way. Though the Elite was far faster than Crump could ever hope to be and caught up with him several times, Crump managed to stave him off by tossing various items from the bags into his face.

Finally, as Crump entered the final stretch of his journey, he ducked into a nearby bathroom and hid. He had bested his opponent. In reality, the Elite likely got tired of being pounded with soda cans and decided that the chase wasn't worth the time, but Crump would have preferred to believe that it was the former rather than the latter. After letting out a gleeful "Buh! Buh! Buh huh huh!" to himself, he removed his one remaining Chuckola Cola from his now otherwise empty bags and took a victory swig.

And thus, his ordinary daily life continued onward for the moment.

Xaido pulled down his mouthpiece as he lifted the cup to his lips. Was this perhaps chamomile? Yes, there's no doubt about it, he knew this taste. This was his favorite tea! How incredibly pleasant! He hadn't had a chance to taste this in ages.

Wait… did his highness perhaps remember my preferences? The last time we met, I did mention that this was my favorite, I think… That can't possibly be what's happening, right? Would he truly prepare this for a humble servant like myself? No, I shouldn't be so presumptuous…

"Is it to your liking?" The X-Naut PhD gripped his cup as he glanced across the table at his conversation partner. Sir Amadeus tilted his head inquisitively. "I seem to recall you mentioning as such the last time that we met. Is the flavor correct?"

"Ah… why, yes, sir! This is perfect! I'm surprised that you remembered! How truly kind of you…"

"Excellent, I am highly pleased to hear this." Amadeus leaned back, relaxing. "Now, tell me, how has your recovery been progressing? From what I understand, it sounded as though you were in rather poor shape before."

Xaido shifted his gaze to his right arm. "Actually, I've been recovering quite well. Science truly has boundless capabilities." To demonstrate, he lifted his arm up to where Amadeus could see and flexed his fingers. "It took a while for me to get truly used to the feeling, but my motor control is as good as it ever was, if not better. Additionally, the raw strength it provides is something else. My only complaint is that I've accidentally crushed a few beakers, but I needed only learn to adjust my grip. Now, it's as if I never lost it."

Xaido thought back to the incident in question. As part of the Archeological Research and Excavation team, he was no stranger when it came to entering sketchy, dilapidated areas. A large part of his role was to research local legends and search for powerful artifacts that could potentially be used to further the X-Naut agenda. He and his team had stumbled upon a rather intriguing legend and had been working to retrieve an item from a particular ruin when a Chain Chomp emerged from a crack in a wall. Before anybody could even take in what was happening, it helped itself to a snack - to Xaido's right arm.

The scientist's mind didn't even register the severity of the damage at first. Startled, he had jumped back as far as he could, only to look into the creature's face and discover it munching away on something bizarrely fleshy and crunchy. How perturbing… he thought to himself. It was only when he looked to his right and saw blood flowing out of the newly-opened crater in his side that it occurred to him a piece of him wasn't where it should have been.

Horror washed over him like a tidal wave, and an eardrum-shattering screech emerged from the very depths of his being. Cold sweat broke out across his body. Darkness rapidly crawled in from the edges of his vision, sending him plunging into unconsciousness.

Upon hearing Xaido's terrified cry, his team was able to immediately eliminate the beast and secure the area. …Or so he heard afterwards. He certainly didn't witness any of the following events. Instead, he woke up in the medical bay three days later with a brand new, significantly more mechanical appendage attached to his body.

After a period of medical leave, plenty of physical therapy, and some mental health counseling, he was starting to settle back into the normal rhythm of things. As it turns out, the experience of watching another creature eat one of your body parts is… rather traumatic. He'd just recently started getting some good sleep again. Eating meat was still out of the question, though. The mere thought of chewing on it made him feel like retching.

"It sounds as though the Prosthetics Department has performed their duties well. I will make note of this," spoke Amadeus, appearing satisfied with Xaido's answer. "Speaking of duties, you had mentioned in your message that your team has completed the second radar, yes? Does it appear to be functioning as expected?"

"Oh, yes! We're quite pleased with it, actually." Xaido felt himself growing excited. He reached down and fished through a bag at his feet, eventually pulling out a packet of papers, a rectangular device, and a sparkling red shard of a rock. He passed the packet and the device along to Amadeus. "Here you are. That's also a copy of the metrics, if you wish to read through them yourself. After further analysis of the object's composition, we were able to increase the detection range to around 15 meters! While that may not seem like much, it's comparatively far better than the 3 meters we were managing before…"

"Hmm. So you still have not determined an accurate method to pinpoint them from long distances…"

"Well… sort of. Due to the energy they radiate into the surrounding area, we have been able to find general locations where the rest of them are likely to be found. However, as a result of the energy's wide spread and its natural tendency to linger, that's about all we've been able to do. …I… apologize if that is not the answer you were hoping to hear, sire. We will continue working towards a better solution."

Amadeus took a moment to glance through the data, his gaze lingering on a particular page. "Actually, I believe that is enough for us to proceed to the next phase. The areas listed here are not so large that they cannot be searched on foot with radar in hand. …And with that in mind, Xaido…" he placed the papers on the table. "…I have a mission for you."