((Author's Note: To new readers to the series, while this is yet another entry can largely be read independently from the others, we are nearing the series' end and there's some over-arching stuff you might not get full context of without reading at least from 'The Black Frost.' To returning readers, welcome back! I know I said that I would be taking a bit of a break: I know it wasn't very long compared to some of the gaps between updates during the last entry, but I couldn't resist at least setting up the prologue to this one. Please be patient with me if I end up taking a bit to update the next chapter as a result. Thank you!))

"Boy, don't you forget: In this world, it's every con for himself."

Timmy had lived with those words long enough now that he'd almost gone numb toward all the scams he'd seen play out. He didn't feel as guilty as he once did when someone played one of the resort's rigged games. His stomach didn't twist as much as it used to whenever he sold someone a faulty trinket well beyond its worth, knowing it'd probably break as soon as the buyer returned home. He learned to keep a straight face when good-hearted people were tricked out of their money, thinking they were helping save the desert when nearly every pon they gave went straight into his guardian's pocket.

"Grab their stuff, won't ya, kid? I'll handle these folks."

A gloved hand waved him toward a stack of luggage sitting nearby. As he began to pile them all onto a cart, he secretly looked up to watch the man win over their newest guests. He couldn't hear what they were saying over the bustle of the resort lobby, but the way they smiled and nodded as he spoke proved that he was selling them on something…

Mr. TV—aptly named for the square screen that replaced a human head—was a charismatic man that could sell sawdust to a lumbermill. Timmy didn't know much about his past, but he'd apparently been a popular show-host at one time. Now, instead of selling people illusions through a TV show, he sold them in real life. Whatever made him decide to adopt a kid as he went from a performing artist to a con artist was beyond the boy.

It wasn't an honest living, but at least it was a living. Mr. TV made him work day and night, but he never mistreated him. Timmy had a nice room and ate good food: He'd just never go to the extreme of calling him 'father.' Their relationship was more business than family—that of a boss and employer or master and apprentice. Timmy never once thought of it being anything more than that after his first few weeks under the cyborg's care. And he was fine with that…

No one paid him much attention as he wheeled the cart out of the front door and along the series of standard rooms that opened directly onto the resort's main road. Despite there being plenty of parking space, the resort was so isolated and the way to it so rough that cars rarely came by. Most people travelled from there to the small, connecting village on foot, and Timmy never have a hard time getting around. The only thing that bothered him was the intense heat of the sun on his back.

If it weren't for the resort, the place would've just been a hot, barren wasteland—so the story went. Centuries ago, the area was consumed by the harsh desert and most of the water dried up. Many of the villages' former inhabitants migrated elsewhere in order to survive, with only a small population of stragglers and their offspring left behind. Anywhere beyond the community, as far as the eye could see, was sand. It was an unforgiving place, the nearby ruins the only thing left to draw anyone there.

Thankfully, it still wasn't so hot that he couldn't give himself a break. Card key in-hand, the boy went quick to his work piling the guests' belongings along the doorway of their room. After that, he made sure to take his time heading back. Even if there were many people besides Mr. TV who would call him out on it, he was alone for the moment. He took a deep breath, his head leaning back and his eyes shut as he faced a cloudless sky.

Memories flooded back to him of a time where he lived in a much different place surrounded by the ocean. If he thought hard enough, he could still smell the brine and taste the salt in the air. Instead of falcons, he could hear the cries of seagulls. Just like with the lost civilization, however, that time had also come and gone. His old life, and the friends he'd made in it, were behind him. This was his home now.

He was counting down the seconds he had to rest before anyone noticed when, suddenly, the sun felt less severe. He opened his eyes once more to find a large shadow had cast over him, and squinted at an irregular, boxy shape floating several meters above the resort.

He'd nearly started to wonder if it was a mirage when his boss came bursting outside, his screen a mess of static in his panic, "By the stars, what is that thing?!" He marched over to Timmy's side, where the two watch the hovering mass a while longer as more people came out to see what the fuss was.

The longer they stared at it, the more it looked like a house. As it slowly glided over them though, they spotted thrusters and other machinery that were the telltale signs of some type of aircraft. In the back of his mind, Timmy recalled news of aliens coming to Earth amid all of the other strange incidents that had happened over the past couple months. Even seeing what was surely a spaceship firsthand though, it was hard to believe.

In contrast, Mr. TV just got angry. "Oh no…" he shook his head in frustration, "No, no, no—not on my property!" Moving back with a brisk step, he snapped his fingers and pointed over to one of the other employees that had followed him from the lobby. "You! I don't care what you have to do, help me signal to these bozos to go plant their ship somewhere else. That thing is an eyesore and they definitely don't get to park it here for free!"

He took off. Timmy watched him go, unfazed by the cyborg's somewhat indifferent reaction. Money was always at the forefront of the man's mind. Besides that, Mr. TV had gotten a call a few days prior from his mysterious 'friend,' or rather benefactor, who'd be coming to visit the resort fairly soon. That figure was the only person Mr. TV gave any genuine respect towards, as though failure was never an option between them. Considering the effort he put into the resorts' success during those visits in-particular, it made sense that a sudden turn of events like this would wear on his nerves.

Well, it wasn't as if Mr. TV let Timmy in on that part of his business anyway. Whatever work he did with his friend was done behind closed doors. Leaning against the cart, Timmy looked up yet again. The ship circled over as if unsure where to place itself, and as it did, he couldn't help but wonder what kind of strange guests were about to check-in.


The desert floor was so unstable was it was hard for the young aliens to find a place that Hat Kid's ship would let them beam down. To their relief, however, someone below had been helpful enough to flash a few lights and guide them to a rocky spot to drop to. It was a bit of a walk to the nearby village, but nothing Hat and Bow couldn't handle. Prepared to make just a day-trip for now, they packed their belongings and got ready to move out.

This desert was the last major spot where a collection of Time Pieces had landed together. The vault was almost full. Maybe it wasn't the most exciting place that the girls could've ended their adventure on, but at least it was somewhere different from their other destinations. They'd already double-checked their maps and even travelled to a large, underground metro run by a criminal organization of cats. In the very least, this would hopefully be an easy stop by comparison.

"Really? You're staying at this dump? I figured you'd be too busy with my contracts to get sidetracked."

Much easier, anyway, than the nightmare that a certain ghost was putting them through…

Stuffing the last hat she needed into her backpack, Hat Kid glared across the bedroom to where Snatcher had made himself home by her mountain of pillows. Candles with his face stamped on him were littered around one corner of the space and he gave her a mocking smile, feigning innocence.

Somehow managing to get his hands on a single Time Piece after her and Bow Kid's last trip to Subcon Forest, Snatcher had thrown a wrench into their plans to quickly hunt down the last of the hourglasses and hurry home. His meddling was so well-planned that it'd be the envy of any Clocksmith, using the relic to reset nearly half of all the hard work she'd done right from her first visit to Mafia Town and make those adventures twice as challenging as they already were the first time. He'd forced some people into additional contracts to play along, heightening their abilities through temporal magic as well as his own.

Hat Kid was only given two advantages. First, although she had to gather the hourglasses during the adventures that he interfered with all over again, it didn't actually cost her any more time. Those hours were the same ones during which she'd recovered the Time Pieces initially. Second of all, Snatcher allowed Bow Kid to help her out. Together, they were able to regain lost ground and correct much of what he'd done to the timeline.

Granted, they still had a handful of 'Death Wishes,' as Snatcher called them, to go… It really upset Hat Kid that he would do something like this, especially since both girls had put themselves at risk to help protect Subcon from Queen Vanessa. Except for setting her back out of pure spite, she had no idea what the phantom ruler was thinking.

That didn't mean she was going to let him have the satisfaction of knowing that it got to her. Ignoring him, she zipped up her bag and stomped out of her bedroom with a huff. Doors speedily zipped open and shut for her as she regrouped with Bow Kid on the ship's main deck, the latter stepping out of the kitchen on cue with her own entrance. Bow climbed down from the upper level, passing her one of two recently filled water bottles.

"We're almost at the finish line, Hat," her friend consoled her, reading her irritation, "Just a little longer and we can get back to our own planet."

"Yeah, so long as Snatcher doesn't make things any worse…" she mumbled, taking a long drink before tucking the bottle in a side pouch. Why was he even sticking around on her ship? Did he want her soul so badly that he didn't plan on letting them out of his sight until they either finished every last one of his contracts or died trying? He was being such a jerk that she almost regretted trying to give him a final, heartfelt goodbye…

"He can't keep this up forever," Bow reassured her, tapping her on the arm. With that, the pair made their way out of the ship and into the desert heat. No matter what got in their way, they were going to finish what they started.