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[img]https://i.postimg.cc/d1m9cwtC/Kid-s-Hat-3.png[/img] [img]https://i.postimg.cc/G2xPk9Gk/Jiggy-2.png[/img] [img]https://i.postimg.cc/vTD8rQzY/Star-Fox-Faded.png[/img]

[b]Level:[/b] [color=8258fa]5 (6 -> 21 -> 24/50)[/color] | [color=fed428]4 (13 -> 16/40)[/color] | [color=darkgray]1 (0 -> 3/10)[/color]
[b]Location:[/b] Devil’s Casino, Inkwell Isle -> Lumbridge, Guild Hall
[b]Word Count:[/b] 2089 (+3 EXP)

[color=8258fa]Item:[/color] Time Piece (4/40-56*)

*([i]Wasn’t sure/forgot which number we were using…[/i])
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Well, that was easy enough. It seemed the dealer might be willing to give her what she wanted, and all she had to do was ask nicely for it. Maybe she should try doing that more often, she considered. A shame the Lumbridge Brigade and an added party of extras had to go and wreck it for her by coming to their rescue. Sure, it was pretty obvious that they were probably going to have to fight him at some point, but she was at least hoping to get her reward out of him early before then; now she had to fight for it, as usual. Kid lept from the edge of the table into formation with the others, brandishing her parasol as she mentally prepared herself to do battle with the gambler and his puppet minions. She took on a more serious, determined expression, her grip tightened on her weapon, and on Gneidxick’s call, their showdown… was cancelled?

It was hard to tell what happened, but it wasn’t an attack… probably. Whatever it was, it was trippy; dizzying even. The result was like that of a miniature tornado spawning in the middle of the room, scattering the casino’s occupants and contents about, and restoring everyone to their normal sizes (if tornadoes did such a thing). Hat Kid came to her senses in time to tilt her hat’s visor out of her eyes and witness Gneidxick depart behind another hooded, cloaked figure through a darkened rift. She could barely catch the latter half of their conversation, but even hearing it all wouldn’t have made any more sense of their situation. If anything, it only raised further questions. It was all rather… [i]confusing[/i] to say the least. A little context would go a long way with something like this…

One thing was clear to the child, and it was that she never got her prize. Lame! It’s one thing for the fight to be interrupted and brought to an abrupt anticlimax, but to use that as an excuse to not hand over her rightful reward just seemed too convenient. (Or, more likely, it just didn’t cross his mind at all.) Couldn’t he have at least waited until [i]after[/i] fulfilling his end as the dealer to betray them?! Keep up the deception [i]just[/i] long enough for her to get what she wanted? It’s not like she hasn’t dealt with exactly that before at-Oooh! [i]That’s[/i] what he meant; by ‘letting her “[i]have it.[/i]” That made more sense.

It took her long enough to figure out internally that he was never going to reward her (and that ‘betrayal’ would suggest that they were ever on good terms to begin with), and in all likelihood, he wasn’t even aware of what she was after. Given his character, it was probably for the best that she didn’t specify as much. Good news was that she knew where to look and had no one around to stop her. While the Houndmaster--the appointed sheriff of Lumbridge--was busy overextending his jurisdiction by way of an annexation loophole they could literally fit a giant through (as they were trying to do), Hat Kid switched back to her tophat and made her way over to the claw machine, to which both hat and Compass Badge pointed. She wasn’t leaving without getting what she was owed first.

She approached the cabinet, umbrella in hand, and knocked the hilt against the glass until it broke. It was then that she remembered once having [url=https://i.redd.it/mhxwnh1jevb41.png]a more suitable weapon for such a task[/url], half lamenting its absence (as well as that of [i]most[/i] of her things), but able to make do without an issue. Any of it beat playing the (likely rigged) machine fairly

Speaking of her cheating to win, she couldn’t help noticing Mr. Chimes, whom she had subverted and defeated not but a few minutes ago, still lying lifelessly within the toy stash, and briefly considered the absurdity of having been in there with him from her now more dominant perspective. She hoisted the wooden primate up by one of his legs, gave his ragdoll prodding shake to make sure he was still out, and stuck her tongue out at him in an expression of mockery before tossing him limply back into the cabinet. She then dug out what she was really after, the Time Piece, looking upon it triumphantly while she tossed it in her hand before safely tucking it away out of sight.

Meanwhile, Fox promptly began conducting a brief headcount to make sure everyone was well and accounted for, nodding to and politely waving off the Cadet assuringly.

[color=darkgray]“Is everyone alright?”[/color] He asked aloud to no one in particular. Based on the responses (and in a way, the lack thereof), he could make a fairly safe assumption that no one had been seriously hurt, or worse. As unlikely as it was in such a short-lived and uneventful scenario, it was hard to predict anymore just what could go wrong or how quickly, so it did no harm to maintain a habit of routinely or periodically checking on the people at your back. Even if he wasn’t necessarily responsible for them, it wouldn’t do to lose anyone under his watch.

Banjo and Kazooie had been splayed out on the grass lounging in the sun outside of the town’s entrance to relax and decompress after escaping the Dead Zone before being called into the Guild Hall on an emergency. Fresh out of one predicament, and right into another. It didn’t seem as though they would catch a break until the culprit, their prospect foe, had been escorted by an apparent cohort off to who knows where. The events and exchanges that followed left Banjo rubbing his head--both in aching dizziness and confusion.

[color=0aaaff]“Uhh… what just happened?”[/color]

[color=f60000]“Looks like we just got out of what was supposed to be an epic and memorable boss fight. I was kinda looking forward to it, actually.”[/color]

[color=0aaaff]“Don’t worry. I’m sure we’ll get an honest chance at it later. I don’t think they’d set something like that up without having it in mind,”[/color] Banjo conjectured, citing familiar video game narrative structure as precedent. [color=0aaaff]“I still don’t get [i][b]why[/b][/i] that happened though… or [i]what[/i], really…”[/color]

[color=f60000]“I don’t know, but it probably involves some kind of intricate, layered, convoluted subplot with a bunch of inscrutable, esoteric jargon.”[/color]

[color=0aaaff]“Is that a backhanded reference to something I should know?”[/color]

[color=f60000]“Just making my best guess.”[/color]

[color=0aaaff]“That’s a weirdly specific guess…”[/color] Banjo looked about and noticed a few people gathered around a craps table to interrogate a miniature cartoon character--one of the attendants being such a character himself. The red one of the two drink-topped characters that elected to stay gave off the unmistakable impression of being from the same setting as the establishment’s runaway manager, complete with bouncy, expressive animation, stylism of a bygone medium, and a voice like it should be (or was?) filtered through a CRT speaker. If the matter held [i]his[/i] attention, it was worth paying a little for anyone curious. [color=0aaaff]“Let’s see if [i]they[/i] know anything about it,”[/color] Banjo suggested as he made his way over to the table.

Though the duo hadn’t their own line of questioning to add to the interrogation, there wasn’t much need for them to. Most of the bases had been covered by the others already, so a simple eavesdrop sufficed for the bear and bird to have any inquiries they would have otherwise had answered. Sadly, the answers they received left much to be desired as far as comprehending any of it.

[color=f60000]“Called it,”[/color] Kazooie commented upon hearing ‘convoluted’ from someone else; her “guess” confirmed.

[color=0aaaff]“That’s… not a lot to work with… or is it too much?”[/color] Banjo was scratching his head at everything he had just heard, somehow expected to make complete sense of it. [color=0aaaff]“Honestly, I’m even [i]more[/i] confused now.”[/color] One couldn’t blame him. It was a lot to take in all at once, and it could only be assumed that there was a great deal more to come. The mere sampling of exposition here was already making Banjo’s head hurt.

[color=f60000]“Maybe we should sleep on it,”[/color] the breegull suggested, taking into account their considerably extensive uptime, and that they’d effectively been active through four different provinces (counting the new one they were in) since sunrise. [color=f60000]“We’ve been up for a full day at this point.”[/color]

[color=0aaaff]“Huh… we have, haven’t we?”[/color] the ursine nodded contemplatively. Their adventures were typically over within a day, and they spent the entirety of one running almost non-stop to barely make a dent in this one. Their work was surely cut out for them. [color=0aaaff]“I guess some shut-eye couldn’t hurt. Let’s head back and see about finding us a room.”[/color]

And so, the duo headed over to the hole in the roof higher than the roof itself with escape ropes dangling from it. Hat Kid had already sauntered over to the rift next to the Cadet and the two criminals and hookshot herself to the top back into the Guild Hall. She didn’t know or intend it, but given the nature of the exchange between them that she ignored, she was basically showing off and unintentionally rubbing their faces in it. When the Koopa obstruction was cleared, Kazooie sprang the duo upward onto one of the ropes and left it to Banjo to climb the rest of the way. Fox lingered behind most of the rest to make sure everyone else had cleared out of the casino before leaving the Houndmaster and whoever he was in charge of to their duties as he followed suit.

Considering that it was still morning, the child was already feeling pretty good about her accomplishments for the day. She took a seat at the bar (where she was probably considered too young to be allowed), popped the cork on her jar of Lon Lon Milk, drank down the first half, and cutely let out a contented sigh of relief as she delighted in the period of respite she had been granted.

The bear and bird, meanwhile, looked around for whoever they had to talk to about finding lodging for the day. After which came the issue of payment, but didn’t see much issue with that. If they needed funds badly enough, they could simply pawn anywhere between one or all of the four gold rings they got off of an angel earlier.

Fox wasn’t as quick to concern himself with finding a place to sleep, even if he probably should have been. He wasn’t presently in his means to pay for it if anyhow, as the check for the rescue operation in the Dead Zone wasn’t likely to clear in a hurry from… whoever was supposed to be sending it. Besides, he wanted to stick around in case anyone called on him for anything else, or if there was something else that needed to be done in general. He seated himself in an unoccupied booth for a short rest and started thinking back on his day.

The exhausting affairs of the previous and current day started to show on him as he boredly, tiredly laid his head back in the moments of reflective idling. He had some experience with other worlds, even going on missions in some of them, but none before were so collectively awful as those conglomerated in the Dead Zone. Someone must have thought he was fit for the job to have sent him alone into a ruinous hellscape of hostile angels, demons and the undead--all things he had minimal exposure to or knowhow in dealing with. Luckily, he ended up encountering others like him from different walks at the RCPD, and with their combined efforts, they managed to escape with the survivors holed up there.

That was the least surprising part to him, as he’d been down that road once before. Since then, nothing and no one could be considered ‘out of place’ to him anymore; not when seemingly nothing was restricted to any one place. On that note, he suddenly realized he couldn’t remember who sent out the call for that; whether it was a distress call or a blatant suicide mission mass distributed by a third party. They had won the day either way, so he wouldn’t dwell on it too much in either case. Though, that didn’t stop him from trying to better recall the events leading up to it, reaching farther back into his memory for some kind of answer...

How [i]did[/i] he end up there anyway?