As Cybr exits the building, he finds that night has fallen in Costa Brava, drawing many nastoids of various shapes and sizes to roam the streets, as is typical of nights in these parts. Also wandering around is a creature known as Ninety Eight, named after its kill count. Cybr sighs, and dials up mxy. An aggravated voice responds on the other end of the line.
"The hell do you want at this hour?!" mxy grumbles.
"I need somebody to pick me up. Just trace the call to figure out my location." Cybr states. mxy audibly groans, but after hanging up, it's not too long before mxy pulls up in front of Cybr. Cybr gets in the vehicle, and finds that Windsor is also inside, having been the only other WCL member actively awake this late, and having wanted to accompany mxy for some reason. Cybr remains silent as mxy drives back towards the WCL, but mxy suddenly slams on the brakes due to a large blockage in the road caused by a horde of nastoids.
"God damn it, this is exactly why I didn't want to go out driving at night!" mxy exclaims, slamming his fist on the dashboard.
"I guess we just have to wait it out, or go back on foot." Windsor suggests, peeking out from the back.
"Hell no. I need to get back to sleep, and I'm not leaving my damn car behind. I'm mowing through these freaks." mxy begins revving his engine.
"Wait, no! Think of the children!" Windsor pleas, looking out at two smaller nastoids staring back at the vehicle with unnaturally large eyes. mxy thinks of the children, and proceeds to slam his foot on the gas pedal, plowing through the horde while Ninety Eight watches in horror as its brethren are slaughtered before it. With the horde cleared, mxy is able to return to the WCL without further incident, and he storms off to his office while Cybr heads upstairs back to his computer, spotting foul play's chalk outline on the ground and immediately putting the pieces together and realizing what happened while he was gone.
"God damn it." Cybr says, before heading up to the throne room and knocking on El Diablo's screen to get him out of sleep mode.
"Eh? What do you want? What time is it?" El Diablo mumbles.
"I just got back from being kidnapped, I guess nobody noticed I was gone. Looks like that idiot in the office next to me got himself killed, and the other idiot in the other office next to me was a traitor working for the Order."
"The other guy? Wasn't that Hhid N.?" El Diablo inquires, his expression taking on the appearance of a surprised face.
"Yeah. I don't know if he's still around, but we'll have to keep our guard up, just in case."
"I guess…" El Diablo sighs. Cybr just heads back down to his office, while El Diablo returns to sleep mode.
Awaser finally steps foot out of his home, looking up at the Turtle Oligarchy's artificial moon hanging in the sky as its construction draws ever nearer to completion. He decides now is finally the time to properly deal with the Oligarchy's devious fossil-fuel-consuming plans, but he can't afford to take the plane again, so he has to go the long way and walk to the death moon, adding at least a couple minutes to the trip. On the long walk there, Awaser is greeted by many citizens of the upper atmosphere, and he politely waves back until he eventually reaches his destination and climbs aboard the moon. Inside, Awaser spots Terrtle cleaning up jet fuel, and recognizes him from before, choosing to steer clear and not draw attention despite being a giant dinosaur. Awaser looks for any sort of sign leading to wherever the fossil fuels are being brought to the moon, and sees a sign that says "ossilF uelsF oG ereH". Awaser assumes this is another language, so he uses google translate on his phone, which translates the text from Norwegian as "osilF uelsF oh erH". This still doesn't help much, so Awaser runs it through several more times until he ends up with "self usf oh raised", which he assumes must refer to something along the lines of a hatchery. Deciding that it would be kinda messed up to barge into a hatchery uninvited, as well as that it is unlikely for fossil fuels to be involved in the hatching process of the turtles, Awaser moves on his way, passing by a conference room where the Turtle Oligarchy is holding a meeting. Awaser listens in through the open door to see what he can hear from the hall.
"...our projections show that, were we to triple our consumption of fossil fuels, we would be able to complete the construction of this moon at a much faster rate. As far as I can tell, there is no downside to doing this."
Awaser definitely did not want to hear this type of news, and he has to take many deep breaths to try and calm himself. In the process of doing this, Awaser accidentally squeezes Symphony Soldier a bit too hard, shooting out a very loud shotgun blast, and prompting the entire Oligarchy to turn and face him. Awaser freezes up, but then enters the room entirely and tries to play it off like it was intentional.
"N-now that I have your attenthion, I'd like to sthpeak on behalf o-of the dinothaurs." Awaser stammers, struggling to keep his confidence high. The Oligarchy is well aware of the fact that Awaser's original diplomatic mission was canceled, so they are of course highly suspicious of the dinosaur. Awaser clears his throat and mind, and focuses on keeping himself together and not stuttering or lisping while speaking.
"Your project's mass consumption of fossil fuels is highly offensive and disrespectful to all of dinosaurkind, especially considering it was done without any permission from us. I overheard you discussing the idea of increasing this fossil fuel consumption threefold, despite the fact that your artificial moon already seems to be far enough along in its construction to serve its purpose of reflecting light. I thus believe it is not incorrect for me to assert that you have a malicious and harmful attitude towards the dinosaur community, and I will request that you either cease or greatly decrease your usage of fossil fuels in this project, and instead seek out an alternate energy source."
The Sea Turtle Oligarchy stares at Awaser, contemplating his words and talking amongst one another.
"Off to the dungeon with him." a member of the Oligarchy says, and the rest nod, before reaching under their table and pulling out tranquilizer guns, which they shoot at Awaser to knock him out. When Awaser comes to, he finds himself in a completely dark circular space, and when the lights turn on all at once, it becomes apparent that this "dungeon" is actually a gladiatorial arena, which seems to be one of the most complete parts of the death moon in terms of construction. Awaser gulps nervously, since he majored in social studies and not combat studies. The gates across the arena open, and Awaser's opponent, Picardia, emerges, pushing his sunglasses against his face so that they glint with the light.