A young man stooped over a glass desk looked up at the sound of a door clicking shut, eyes wandering up and towards a stairway ascending to a heavy metal door. A girl stood there, with light blue skin and teal hair pulled back by a string of pearls, gazing down at the man and another, broad shouldered man sitting just across from him.

“Ah, Delphina. Come in, come in,” he spoke, sitting straight in his chair. His two-toned hair, dyed red and blue, fell over his face, curtaining his features. A breathing mask covered his face, tubes falling from the front and draping across his back. He reached out an arm gloved in metal—a shoddy attempt at a simple prosthetic—motioning towards the broad man, green in skin and hair. “Frankie, pull up a chair.”

The green-skinned man, Frankie, nodded towards him, stretching his long arms forward and wheeling a chair over to the desk. Delphina trotted down the steps leading to the lab, a long, dolphin-like tail stretched out behind her. She took her seat, looking worriedly at the young man.

“Thank you, Frankie,” she whispered, before addressing the other man. “You wanted to see me, Dr. Alde?”

“Yes, yes…” Dr. Alde mumbled into his metal glove. His coat’s left arm hung limp and uninhabited, draping and falling off his seat. “Thank you for coming on such short notice.”

“Of course! Anything for my partners in science,” Delphina winked, flashing her coral covered eyes. Dr. Alde didn’t notice as he repeatedly skimmed over a note that had been laid flat on his desk. After trying to edge closer to take a peek, Delphina gave up and asked aloud: “Is something wrong?”

Dr. Alde looked up, finally locking eyes with Delphina. “Yes, well…” Dr. Alde glanced at Frankie, who had moved his seat further away and had begun helping himself to a cup of tea. “We have bad news.”

“Oh…?” Delphina’s mouth became dry, her tongue thick and cottony in her mouth. 

“Unfortunately… we can’t finish the rocket,” Dr. Alde replied, tossing the paper he was reading to Delphina. It fluttered in the air, nearly careening to the side before Delphina lunged forward and caught it.

Frankie piped up, “The Queen’s issued a notice that she’s blocking off all trade routes. Nothing will be coming in or out, so we won’t be able to get the materials to build the rocket.”

Delphina felt her heart sink, forcing her eyes to wander towards the paper clutched in her hands, affirming her friends’ words.

In massive, bold lettering, the note was simply titled “WARNING”.

The rest of it was written in much smaller and plainer text: “The Queen has passed a law, shutting down all trade routes in and out of the Hearts Kingdom effective immediately. Anyone caught breaking the law via trading shall be charged with possession of stolen or poached goods and punished accordingly.”

“That means…” Delphina began blinking back the tears forming in her eyes. “No more materials are being sent to help us build the rocket, then?”

Dr. Alde and Frankie shook their heads in unison.

Her tears fell from her face, droplets staining the notice and causing the ink to bloom and smudge. She raised a trembling hand to wipe her tears away futilely, breaking out into a sob. “So… that’s it then…? My dreams of reaching the stars… gone…?”

“We didn’t say we were gonna stop,” Frankie said.

Delphina looked up, taken aback. “Huh…? What… what do you mean?”

Frankie glanced over at Dr. Alde, scratching at the stitch circling around his neck, before holding up his palms—his wrists and fingers also covered in stitches and staples—in a shrug. 

“We obtain it illegally, of course,” Frankie stated.

“But isn’t it risky? What if we get caught trading?” 

Dr. Alde leaned back in his seat, tapping his finger on his desk, closing his eyes triumphantly. “We’re not gonna trade.”

Delphina blinked. “Sir… what are you planning?”

“I enter the Outer Frontier and strip the abandoned Stars Kingdom’s ruins of its metal, of course,” Dr. Alde nodded. Frankie nodded too, as if it were the most logical course of action.

“But Doctor, isn’t the Outer Frontier, like, super dangerous? Filled with the miasma and other monsters?” Delphina’s eyes couldn’t help but flick towards Dr. Alde’s scrawny body: far skinnier and bonier than she was, not to mention his missing left arm, his breathing problems, low stamina, and–

“Okay, Delphina,” Dr. Alde interrupted, “I can feel you judging my condition. But I can assure you, I won’t be going alone. After all, I’m counting on you two, as well. I will guide us to the abandoned ruins if you two act as my bodyguards and keep an eye out for any danger.”

Delphina and Frankie exchanged glances, before nodding at each other. Crushing the paper in her hands, Delphina wiped away the remaining tears on her face, her eyes brimming with determination.

“Let’s do it.”

─── ♡ ♢ ☀︎ ✩ ☽ ♧ ♤ ───

The blazing sun rose high in the sky, warm, tepid heat causing sweat to bead against Asmodeus’ forehead. His light blue hair stuck to his face in strands, and he sighed from the arid climate. He breathed out a sigh of relief as he stepped into the hospital, the cold, biting air nearly causing him to shiver from the sudden change in temperature. Glancing at his reflection in the window, he adjusted his sweat-slicked hair, tucking strands behind red, demonic horns. 

Asmodeus offered brief waves and greetings towards doctors and nurses rushing back and forth, even smiling warmly to a young, timid girl in a hospital gown being ushered away.

Just up ahead, conversing frantically with the receptionist, was Asmodeus’ most trusted assistant: a young, blonde woman named Bitte. Her features were pinched with worry as she looked up to see Asmodeus approaching and waving.

“Bitte!” he called out cheerfully. He had a long, red tail with a feathered tip, swishing back and forth with excitement. “Good morning! How are you doing today? It’s certainly hot outside…”

Bitte’s eyes shifted nervously. “Ah… Dr. Asmodeus, good morning…”

Asmodeus took note of her expression and posture, tilting his head to the side curiously. “What’s wrong, dear?”

Bitte turned to the receptionist, holding out her hand and making a beckoning motion. The receptionist nodded, pulling out a slip of paper and passing it over to Bitte who, in turn, handed it to Asmodeus.

Asmodeus cocked an eyebrow, scanning the paper quickly, before narrowing his eyes.

“So…” Asmodeus’ previously upbeat voice grew low. Serious. “The Queen thinks she can cut off our supplies? Does she even realize how many patients we have to take care of? Does she even realize how many of those patients are royal-”

Cutting himself off, Asmodeus inhaled and exhaled deeply, straightening himself out and smiling gently.

“I’m sorry, Asmodeus,” Bitte mumbled. “I don’t know what to do.”

“Don’t worry, Bitte,” Asmodeus placed a hand on her shoulder, patting it gently. “I have an idea. Please tell the hospital that I must step away for a bit. It seems… I will have to take things into my own hands.”

He immediately turned on his heels, striding back towards the entrance. He waved again at the people going past, his figure disappearing through the glass doors.

Outside in the heat once again, Asmodeus pulled out a small device—a phone—and punched in a number, raising it to his ear. It rang for a few beats, before it picked up.

“Azzy?” a deep voice came from the other end.

“Altair!” Asmodeus beamed. “Would you be a dear and meet me near the northwestern pass towards the Outer Frontier? I need your help.”

“Of course.”

He hung up with a smile, pocketing his phone. Wings unfurled from his back, dark red in color and amorphous in design. With a pump of his wings, he took off.

─── ♡ ♢ ☀︎ ✩ ☽ ♧ ♤ ───

“Get up.” The bars clanged loudly, reverberating around the tiny cell and causing one of the inhabitants to jolt awake. “Your breakfast is here, Savant.”

The figure rubbed their eyes, sliding off the bed and walking towards the person standing on the other side of the prison door, glaring through the darkness.

“Who are you?” he muttered, voice dripping with contempt. “Where’s Kintsugi? At least he had more tact than this.”

The person standing before him—a woman with long white hair pulled into a nihongami hairstyle—didn’t respond, simply sliding a tray through the flap near the bottom of the cell.

“Oh, it’s you, Kamiori… What, just one tray? No coffee?” Savant frowned, his eyes flicking down to look at the tray. His voice became haughty, now. Grating. He pointed a thumb over his shoulder, to a large, hulking figure still curled up in sleep. “Do you see the oaf I have to share this cell with? And surely you must know I can’t possibly think without proper nutrition.”

Kamiori snorted in response. “You think I care what happens to livestock like you? Kintsugi is gone. He quit. You’re not gonna get pampered anymore. I’m just here to let you know that this building is being abandoned and you’ve been left here to rot by him and by the Queen.”

Savant finally stilled before laughing nervously. “Come on, you can’t seriously expect me to believe you, right? I’m the Queen’s most trusted engineer! The lead inventor for the Diamanté Mafia! The inventor of the phone? The Queen uses my technology– all four kingdoms use my technology!”

Getting close to the bars, gripping on in her fist, Kamiori sneered. “The Queen used your technology. But she has no more use of you. She’s gotten all the inventions she wants out of you and now? She doesn’t care what you or the Mafia does. She’s cut ties with the rest of the outside world, and you thought you were entitled to an ounce of freedom? Of superiority? Don’t make me laugh. You’re the one trapped in a cage here. Meanwhile I get to walk out of here, wander wherever I’d like, leaving you and the other rats trapped here for the rest of your lives.”

“You-!” Savant threw himself against the bars, arm swiping towards Kamiori in an attempt to grab her. However, she stepped back quickly, laughing as she easily stepped away from him. “Release me this instant! I can… I can still be of use! I can improve my inventions! Make better ones! I can-”

“I don’t care,” Kamiori turned, starting to walk away and dismissing him with a wave of her hand. “So long, Savant. Your inventions greatly improved the kingdoms so I’m sure we’ll remember you… even well past your expiration date.”

Savant bit his tongue to prevent himself from firing another scathing remark.

“Oh, and… one more thing,” Kamiori glanced back at him. “You know too much. The Queen is sending someone to kill the lot of you. Tata!”

The woman let out a loud, booming laugh as she departed. Savant stood there fuming for several beats, before pacing around the cage.

The other figure on the bed finally stirred, turning over with a creak of the mattress to look up at Savant. He rubbed his eyes, groaning. “Savant…? What are you doing?”

Savant whirled around. “Well, look who’s finally awake?” he snapped. He sighed. “Sorry, Armel. But we need to break out of here.”

“How? I’ve got the strength inhibitors on and you… well… you don’t have your inventions–”

“Shut up! I can handle this even without my technology.” Savant stood by the side of the mattress, glaring down at Armel. “Here, give me your hands.”

Armel sat up, running a hand through his fluffy hair before displaying his palms to Savant. Wrapping his hand around Armel’s left wrist and pulling it closer to him, Savant procured a hidden screwdriver from his pocket, tampering with the cuff settled tightly around it. 

“Are you sure about this?” Armel yawned. “Can you even get these off of me?”

“Quite sure,” Savant mumbled back. “I made your inhibitors… I know how to get them off.”

A click sounded as if on cue and the cuff unlatched, falling to the ground with a dull thud. Savant quickly undid the other cuff, sliding them away with his feet.

“Now, how are you feeling?” Savant stepped back, letting Armel stand and move around. He rolled his shoulders, stretching languidly and flexing his wrists. Savant watched every motion eagerly but impatiently, stepping even further back—almost into the corner—as Armel cracked his knuckles and stood before the cell door.

“Took you long enough to remove those,” Armel smiled. “I feel like I can tear down this whole building now.”

The rest was all a blur, ending with Savant riding atop Armel’s shoulders as they ran—laughing like madmen—from the crumbling mess that used to be the once proud and brilliant headquarters of the Diamanté Mafia. Other escapees waved to them as they parted ways, shouting and hollering exuberantly. 

“Where to now, professor?” Armel asked, tilting his head to look up at Savant. His hands rested on Savant’s thighs, holding him in place.

“We need somewhere to hide,” Savant said, leaning forward and patting Armel’s chest. “Head towards the Outer Frontier. I have a hideout over there.”

Armel nodded, rerouting their escape.