[center][h3]Ash Lake[/h3]
Koopa Troop’s [@DracoLunaris], Primrose’s [@Yankee], Rubick’s [@Scarifar], Teemo’s [@Bugman][/center]

Though several of the newcomers seemed in a hurry to be on their way, or didn’t think twice about some of their host’s offhanded words and didn’t care to delve further, Primrose convinced Asgore to share with them whatever knowledge might aid them in their quest. That meant gathering together around the hearth in the hollow’s center, surrounded by legendary weapons at the foot of the mountain of ash, able to crane their necks u; and stare up in wonderment as the turned throne before the violet Flame Clock that blazed on the colossal trunk’s inner wall. Everyone got the chance to take a warm drink in handy, despite most of the provided flavors being so earthy that only a dedicated herbivore might truly savor them, and for Teemo Asgore even managed to rustle up a couple cookies. They weren’t the best, being made of decent ingredients but assembled shoddily, yet Asgore offered them as if they were his personal treasure. Then, with everyone assembled, he started to speak.

“It all began when I was destoried,” he began. “By F.” Despite his overall friendly demeanor, he practically spat out the letter. “I don’t know much about him, even after all this time, but F is easy to understand. He has no soul, and can’t feel love, or sympathy, or much of anythin’ worthwhile. He’s a vicious sadist who gets his kicks tearing folks down, tricking them into ruining themselves, and cruel irony. Kill or be killed, as he says, golly. But this world’s perfect for him. And sadly, for whatever reason, he took an interest in me.”

Asgore set his tea down and massaged his eyes with the palm of his hands as if to knead out the tiredness and pain. “So, he destoried me. At the time, I’d been installed as King for a couple years, ruling over these parts from the Home of Tears. It wasn’t right, but I didn’t know any better. Then I learned about the Clocks.”

Scratching his head, Barnabee raised one brow at his host. “Thou mentioned a ‘Flame Clock’ once before, good fellow. To mine ears it sounded like a term of great import. What is it, pray tell?”

Lifting his head, Asgore glanced up at the gilded gauge on the wall. “That big doohickey over yonder, see it? That’s a Flame Clock. It’s the Home of Tears’ clock, to be precise. But what’s inside it isn’t just fire. It’s life, the life of the cityfolk down below.”

“I’m not sure I follow,” Barnabee confessed.

“Hmm. Well, ask yourself this. All the people in the World of Light, what do they need to stay alive?” Asgore glanced between his guests. “Water? Food? You betcha. But what we need most…is life itself.” He stared into the bonfire. “Every minute of every day, everyone’s burning up time. We’re all made like matches, and we burn out quick. If you’ve been traveling ‘round the world at all, you must’ve seen it. The fighting. The war. Endless conflict, no matter where you go. Taking each other’s lives, with the taken flames becoming yours in turn.” A hollow laugh shook him. “Not you and me, of course. Without the Lifelight in our eyes, we’re free from the clocks. But we aren’t really free, me least of all.”

He closed his eyes. “F told me that it was my punishment. Atonement for my sins. A chance to make things right, for once in my dang life. I…I never [i]wanted[/i] to hurt anyone. I’m not a bad person, but…but sometimes, I have to do bad things. F brought me here and told me to feed the Flame Clock. All by myself. Put the lives of the entire city in my hands.” He held up his palms, the white fur stained black by ash. “It meant the cityfolk could live in peace. Never having to hurt or kill anyone to get the lifelight they needed. Maybe I thought I really could atone by taking it all on myself. Do right by my subjects, for once. Not that I had a choice. I had no idea how bad it’d be. So much sacrifice.”

Barnabee’s eyes widened. “By the queen…I’ve seen the Home of Tears in all its glory. It is home to thousands, perhaps tens of thousands! And this F forced thee to gather enough life for every one of them?”

“Mm,” Asgore grunted, his expression cloudy. “I began with the Infection, and everyone it claimed. When the Infection died down to where it’s at now, I had to branch out. Lake monsters. Creepy crawlies Run after run after run of the Basement. Not to mention P, urgh. I try not to speak ill of anyone, but that boy ain’t right. He moseys on up here to drink his fill whenever he feels like it, setting me back who-knows-how-many lives each time. Cleaning out weak li’l critters wasn’t enough; I had to go out and hunt down the big game. Make a name for myself. Became a monster so legendary that kinds of hunters and adventurers started coming to me, for the ExP, the loot, or just the challenge. But none ever returned..” Asgore lifted up a handful of ash and let it drain through his fingers. “All I wanted was to be a good king, but the Consuls made me the grim reaper.” 

Barnabee shivered, suddenly glad that they hadn’t picked a fight with the king. “How long hast thou been doing this?”

“Gosh…” Asgore murmured with a miserable shrug. “Too long. After a while I quit counting the years. Sometimes I wonder if the Home of Tears down there’s the same as I remember, but I’ve never gone back. Don’t deserve it. There’s too great a distance between us–between good people and me.” Shaking his head sadly, Asgore seemed to slump further down. “It’s a vicious cycle. The same one this world’s built on. Killing gets you ExP. ExP gets you levels. Levels make it easier to hurt, and harder to be hurt. But they also make you worth more, either as a target for others, or to the Consuls. I got to be so desensitized, I didn’t even notice when I finally plateaued.”

To Barnabee, still in thrall to Galeem, all this seemed especially confusing. “Thine testimony is too much for me,” he confessed. “I am but a simple warrior. To preserve Her Majesty is all I aspire to. But if thy situation is so dire, and thou hast much strength in thy possession, is there not something thou canst do?”

“I wish I could. But I don’t know how. None of these oh-so-legendary weapons can even scratch the Flame Clock. I thought about rebelling, but the clock’s got me there too. The Consuls could drain it dry if they wanted. Whether they know it or not, every poor soul in the City of Tears is a hostage for ‘em. But all that aside…” Asgore averted his gaze “I just don’t have the right kind of strength. The [i]determination[/i].” He scowled in anger at himself. “I’m just a screw-up. Always have been. Stubbornly sticking to the wrong path. Filling this clock…is all I’m good for.”

After a moment Asgore sighed. “Ohh. I’ve moaned long enough. Here.” He pulled something out of his robe and tossed it at the Seekers’ feet. It was a one-third mask fragment. “Both Consuls gave me a job to do, and guarding this thing was P’s. Kid’s as lazy as he is selfish, so when it came to guarding the Egg he just broke up the masks and stuck the pieces with whatever strong monsters he found.” He gave the heroes a rueful smile. “Said he’d kill everyone in town if I didn’t keep it safe, but he doesn’t even check to make sure I still have it when he comes up.” From another pocket he produced a fragment that looked similar to the first, but painstakingly carved from seashell. “Still, I made a fake just in case.”

“So you do intend to resist?” Barnabee asked.

Asgore shook his head. “I got my hands full, sadly. Got to keep the lights on.” He scarcely needed to gesture toward the Flame Clock to show what he meant. “But I wish you all good luck out there. Find all the masks, learn all you can, and take out whatever it is the Consuls’re so keen to keep safe.” He furrowed his brow. “And if F or P show up…don’t let ‘em get away with this.”

[center][h3]Edinburgh MagicaPolis - Noumenon[/h3]
Level 8 Big Band (49/80)
Ace Cadet’s [@Yankee], Frisk’s [@Majoras End], Red’s [@TruthHurts22]
[b]Word Count:[/b] [/center]

With even fewer tense moments to plan than they were led to believe, the team had to think fast. That they’d bring Sierra with them as they fled turned out to be a foregone conclusion. Band had already made it clear that these so-called lawmen weren’t to be trusted, and everyone agreed. Even if they didn’t care one bit about the poor girl’s safety, their best chance at learning the truth behind the demon attack lay with her. That just left one big question: with Irons’ trigger-happiest watchdogs on their way any second now, how were the heroes going to make it out?

Red made a rather dramatic suggestion, formulated a bit too quickly maybe given the circumstances, though he could hardly be blamed for it all things considered. While Red had a point about the possibility of other cops covering the back door and their greater experience with Edinburgh himself, Band couldn’t see the logic behind his plan, especially the wanton destruction. He just didn’t know or trust the superhero well enough yet, and there was no time for Red to explain further. “When the heat’s on, up’s the last place ya wanna go,” the detective said in a hurry, remembering and applying something he knew about firefighting. It sounded like Ace had some doubts too, which made a majority against the idea in his mind, two to one. “The more fuel in the fire, the higher it rises. If we stay here, the whole city’ll be on our asses. We gotta move, but we don’t gotta use any doors.”

Albedo nodded. “That they know where we are is the main issue. We must disappear with all haste.”

“Gimme wheah this hideout is and I can guide us through the streets!” Lucia piped up, looking at Frisk. “Don’t know it like I know Metro City, but I won’t steah ya wrong!”

.Heavy footsteps were on the way; the crew had run out of time for deliberation. With Frisk and Ace undecided and Red probably barking up the wrong tree. Band chose to make the decision for the others. “Pick it up, y’all!” He relieved Frisk of Sierra so that she could run unburdened, gently placing the girl over his shoulder, then took off across the Noumenon like a runaway freight train. After a few moments the rattle of gunfire behind them chased the team behind a row of untouched bookcases, ducking and covering their heads when they could. They reached the back wall with no door in sight, but by their powers combined Big Band and Red punched a new exit through the wall. Then they were back on the snowy roads of Edinburgh MagicaPolis, hounded onward by the sounds of angry voices and sirens in the distance.

Once Frisk painted a rough picture of which direction the group needed to go, Lucia took over. Both streetwise and equipped with an idea of how her fellow officers operated, she led the others on a route full of twists, turns, and unexpected shortcuts, avoiding open spaces and breaking sightlines as often as possible. In a city this big and samey that alone would be enough to evade the average cop, but neither Lucia nor Band doubted that the loose cannons would pick up the trail. “Before we start runnin’ outta breath, let’s hunker down in a spot that’ll play to our strengths,” he advised. “No sense in draggin’ out the chase. Let’s settle up with Irons’ goons right now.”

Not long after, everyone came to a stop in a cluttered, people-devoid [url=https://www.xboxone-hq.com/images/games/screenshots/28-tom-clancy-s-the-division-screenshot-1452708576_1452708576.jpg]street[/url] with one of the city bridges in view. As the team slid to a stop in the snow, several of them panting, Band quickly sized the area up. He expected an elite police unit to be packing some firepower, and if the Seekers’ fight against Artemis proved anything it was that they lacked a great deal of ranged options. That meant a corridor wouldn’t suit them well, and their pursuers might very well show up in the midst of their attempts to hide themselves among the debris for an ambush. Band’s eyes landed on a dilapidated supermarket among the apartments, perhaps the site of a fire or some other tragedy. An unpredictable location like that might work to the team’s advantage. “In here!” he called, and with a ‘light nudge’ the door flew from its hinges. It landed with a crash, the last of the shattered glass around its edges reduced to smithereens, and the Seekers hurried inside.

[center][img]https://i.imgur.com/OKBETOQ.png[/img][/center]

Sooner even than the pessimistic detective anticipated, their pursuers appeared. Stryker, Nightingale, and Byte plus Barq pushed inside with weapons -and arms- at the ready, their flashlights dancing across the supermarket interior. Since its near-destruction the place had seen some looting, with shelves overturned and goods scattered around, as well as too many footprints every which way to tell where their targets had gone. Still, unless they climbed up through the collapsed section of ceiling, the fugitives were here. “We can do this the easy way, or the hard way!” Stryker called out, his pistol and flashlight probing the ruined store’s dark corners. “Of course, I don’t mind the hard way. Just makes it more fun.”

Byte’s diminutive companion began zeroing in on the Seekers. “Head signatures detected,” the cop-bot reported, following Barq’s lead.

Nightingale said nothing, but remained closer to the door, a pump shotgun in hand. He planned to bring the big guns on anyone who got flushed out by the others, as well as to cut off their escape.