Silver crashed into the desert, sliding 500 yards before slamming into a palm tree. He struggled to his feet and was surprised to see Dark Figure standing in front of him. "Bah, you're worthless as a lackey," he muttered.

Silver rubbed his head. "It's not my fault. Dungeon Man showed up and clocked me one. But I still trashed the city."

"Did I ask for a city-trashing? No! I asked for a distraction, and your version of a distraction was woefully short." Dark Figure waved a flute under Silver's nose. "I needed enough time to play the Moonlight Sonata on this flute to activate my spell, and you barely gave me enough time to get to the first diminuendo! This is unacceptable!"

Silver opened his jaws to eat Dark Figure, but then remembered the last time he tried that and thought better of it. "You didn't say anything about needing to play a sonata. You just said 'create a distraction,' and I did. So back off!"

"Very well." Dark Figure turned his back on Silver. "I'll just have to find myself another lackey, one who can follow my orders."

Silver was about to argue that he could follow orders provided they were given in a specific enough fashion, but he noticed that he was shrinking. In a matter of moments, he was looking straight at Dark Figure's horned helmet, and then he was looking up at it. He tried to ask what the big deal was, but all he could say was "Squeek!"

"Enjoy your new form, Silver Mouse!" Dark Figure chortled madly before flying away, leaving Silver to angrily shake his little mouse paws.

Alas, for dash sat within the corridors of Eagleland High.
"Will Michael Quinlin please report to the office..." the intercom buzzed.
"...*sigh*. I'll never get out of here." dash sighed. "And this isn't even my school! What am I doing here?"
dash continued to slouch in his chair until the intercom buzzed once again.
"Will dash badman please report to the office..." it rang out.
"...Alright, time to find out why I'm here." dash murmured as he drudged to the office. He went through the doors and sat down in a leather chair, just as the rotating chair in front of him faced to him. A dark, imploring figure faced dash, wanting him for reasons unknown.
"Do you know... why ... you're here, dash?"
"...Umm...no, that's what I going to ask you."
"Stay seated, dash."
dash stayed in his seat.
"I assume you've heard rumors about the upcoming Ragnarok, have you?"
"...No sir, I haven't!"
"...Well, certain forces are at work right now within the fine country of Eagleland, making a mess of the place, destroying it as you'd say. I called you here because I know I could put you to good use in taking advantage of the chaos happening in Eagleland."
"...You could?"
"...Yes. Simply sign this form and we can begin."
"...Um, one question."
"Yes?"
"What's your name?"
"...I've been called many names throughout history, and I've liked none of them. Just call me... Mr. Mani."
"Sure, Mr. Mani. I'll sign."

dash signed the form, unaware of the comedic havoc to soon await him...

Into the skies Falcon soared, searching for the Silver Tyrano. He'd been watching the fight between him and Dungeon Man on a monitor, twenty floors below sea level, from a bunker -- but in actuality he had just been standing on a nearby rooftop. He laughed gleefully when he saw Silver Tyrano fly over the horizon, but he didn't leave it at that. Oh no, he needed vengeance for the death of his dentist! He needed...to gloat.

Upon coming to this decision, Falcon had opened his wings to his fullest wingspan and soared into the air. He glided with ease over the Fourside Bridge and toward the Dusty Dunes Desert. Then, he noticed a black spot on the horizon, a blemish to the otherwise cloudless, blue sky. A split second later, he nearly crashed into a shadowy figure darting in the opposite direction. As the two passed each other, they clipped each other's shoulders and stopped in midair, floating, assessing one another. Dark Figure chuckled and folded his arms.

"Well, well, well...what have we here?"

Falcon cocked his head to the side and favored Dark Figure with a wry grin. "I was about to ask the same thing myself. But by the looks of things, I'd say not much. Let me guess, up to no good?"

Dark Figure grinned maliciously. "Oh, you don't know the half of it. But..." He looked downward. "You might want to check on a little man that's down there...or should I say mouse?" He let out a roar of laughter.

Falcon frowned. "Your plans..."

"My plans are only my business. You can't do anything to stop them. In fact, you'll be helping them, if anything. I can guarantee it. Adios, amigo!" With a laugh, Dark Figure winked out of existence.

Falcon slowly descended to the ground. As soon as his feet touched the sands he began searching the distance. "Hello?" He bellowed. "Anyone there?" Nothing but the blaring heat of the desert sun answered him, until...

"Ow! Stupid mouse!" A mouse had been gnawing through his shoe, and he promptly kicked it away. With a squeak, the mouse flew several feet through the air and landed roughly, kicking up a cloud of dust in his wake. "What a waste of time," Falcon muttered, and began to turn to go. As he did so, he suddenly found something biting his leg.

"WTF?" He said, and looked down to find the mouse clinging to him for dear life. "Grrr, stupid thing!" He plucked the mouse off his leg and raised it up to get a good look at it. Hmm... he thought, noticing the odd silvery color of its fur. "You wouldn't happen to be..."

The mouse nodded furiously.

"Bwahahahahahahahaha!" Falcon gasped for air. "That's hilarious! Oh man, this is rich." Silver Tyrano merely crossed his little mousey arms over his little mousey chest and glared angrily.

"Squeekity squeek squeek squeekity squeek!" Silver Tyrano squeeked out with indignation. Falcon patted him on the head, grinning.

"Awwww, don't worry little mousey. You can come with me!" He picked Silver Tyrano up and put him on top of his head. "There, you sit there. We're takin' to the skies!" With that, Falcon leapt into the air and took flight, with Silver Tyrano clinging desperately to his hair. "Let's go find you someone who can help you translate," Falcon said as he headed in the general direction of Winters.

Dark Figure took a look at one of his many computer screens, checking out the current situation in Fourside. Tyrano may have disrupted things, but it really wasn't what he had intended at all. It was time for a change of plans.

He would worry about a lackey in general later. Right now he needed someone whom he could control as a mindless drone. Fourside should provide a fairly good amount of weak-minded individuals, especially after the rampage Tyrano created. Well, maybe he wasn't completely useless afterwards.

Dark Figure started by looking at Jackie's Cafe, a well of weak-minded individuals. Those people lived such mindless lives, they wouldn't even notice being taken over! However, something drew his mind away from Jackie's cafe. There was a mind even weaker than the current patrons of the cafe. Such a weak mind... it would be perfect.

He grabbed a scroll from his bag, looked at it for a moment and frowned, tossed it back in the bag, then got the correct scroll instead of the recipe for "Three Bean Casserole." He said some strange words and suddenly the writing on the scroll disappeared.

Ah, the mind of a bum, Dark Figure thought, as he took over the man's mind. He'll be perfect for my plans. Hmm? My, he sure does have a strong desire for alcohol. Dark Figure could feel his mind fighting for control. Fine, you can have it your way. A little drink before we take care of business, how about that?

Hobo Mike felt Dark Figure take over his mind, but he didn't care. He just wanted another drink. As Dark Figure tried to turn him away from the prospect of another drink, though, Hobo Mike began to get upset. He was relieved once Dark Figure started directing him in the right direction; to the liquor store.

He didn't have any money on him, being a hobo and all, but that didn't matter. Dark Figure's control of him was straight and to the point; he simply opened up the glass case around the booze, took out a bottle of rum, and began to chug.

"Hey, sir, you can't..." the store employee with rather low self-esteem began. "You'll, uh... you have to pay for that!"

Hobo Mike didn't pay any attention to the employee, now setting his sights on a bottle of whiskey. He grabbed it and brought it up to his lips, taking a big gulp.

"Mmm, that be some mighty fine stuff." he mused to no one in particular.

The store employee ran over to him. "You really need to pay for that!" He grabbed for the bottle of whiskey.

As the store employee's hand touched the whiskey, hobo Mike's eyes flared red. This was not because of Dark Figure's control over him, but instead from the fact that someone was taking his precious drink away. With a loud roar, hobo Mike sent the store employee flying across the room and into a conveniently placed display with one strike. Hobo Mike then grabbed as many liquor bottles as he could, shattering the glass window as he ran through it. In a drunken rampage, hobo Mike caused reckless destruction throughout the city.

"Geez," said a bystander. "They just fixed that from the last rampage."

Wow, Dark Figure thought. That's some pretty amazing drunken power. He'll be more useful than I thought. Now, let's see what we can get accomplished, why don't we?

DISCLAIMER: Getting drunk will not necessarily give you 'super drunken powers'. The authors of this IF are not accountable for the actions of the reader, and do not condone stealing from the local liquor store or getting drunk. They may or may not condone rampages and/or senseless destruction.

"Jeez!" dash shouted, "Everyone gets to blow up Fourside, and I'm running errands!"

dash got back into his car with the groceries he bought with Mr. Mani's debit card.

"RRrrrrrggg, he promises me I'll wreck havoc across this danged town, and I'm out here on a beer run! Never do I got luck!"

dash keyed the ignition and drove off in the direction of the Monotoli Building. His drive was very uneventful, until he happened to run into a drunken hobo. *BAM!*

"Augh! Oh no... I hit someone, didn't I?"

dash got out of the car and inspected the damage. It wasn't good. In front of the now-trashed car lied the body of a drunken hobo, bribed by higher powers with booze.

"...This isn't good. Whoever sent him is going to be after me... "

Hobo Mike stood up wearily. Dash got out of his car and ran over to him.

"I'm really sorry, are you ok?" Dash picked up one of Hobo's liquor bottles to hand to him. Hobo Mike looked up and saw him holding his booze.

"Wadda ya doin' wit ma beer?" This was followed by a hiccup.

"I'm just going to give it back to you. Don't worry. You really shouldn't drink so much."

"Don't talk like you know me man! YOU DON'T KNOW!"

"Calm down! I was just-" Dash was interrupted by a punch to the face by Hobo Mike. He was sent flying into a nearby building. Hobo Mike began to run away when he felt a tap on his shoulder.
He turned around to see an old man.

"Excuse me my boy, my name is Jenkins. Old Man Jenkins. Did you just hit that fine young lad into a building?"

"Yup." Mike took a sip of his beer.

"What did that nice young lad ever do to you?"

"He tryin' ta take my beer."

"Beer? You're one o thems no good dirty rotten hippies! EEEHHH! You crazy kids and your vidya games!"

Dash looked up from the rubble and at the babbleing old man, "What is he talking about?"

"Since you're a hippie, it is my duty to kick your tree hugging butt!"

Hobo Mike looked confused for a moment and then sloppily put up his fists, "I ain't no hippie, but I'll fight you any way old man!"
Mike hiccuped and fell over. Jenkins walked over to him and looked down. Mikes eyes suddenly fluttered open and he punched Jenkins so hard that it sent him flying into the air. He landed in Winters, just as Falcon and Silver landed.

The sun was just beginning to sink below the rolling hills of Italy's Campania province. Giuseppe Scarpello pushed his small cart along a dirt road leading to one of the many small towns in the area.

Despite his surname, Giuseppe was not a shoemaker. His father had been, and his grandfather before that, as well as his great-grandfather, great great-grandfather, and great great great-grandfather, but not his great great great great-grandfather, who had been a mason. Giuseppe (who went sometimes by the considerably more prosaic name of "Joe", in foreign circles) was a Frosty maker. He had decided as a youth against following the long-standing family trade, and instead wandered the countryside with his Frosty machine, dispensing refreshing icy beverages.

Giuseppe strode briskly down the road, his mobile Frosty machine rattling along on its wheels. He stroked his large and immaculately combed moustache and began whistling a tune. He was glad to be back in Italy.

His thoughts traveled back to last year's misadventure in Eagleland. His stint as lackey for the evil Dark Figure had not gone well. Sure the money had been good, but with all the troubles connected with the work, it just wasn't worth it. The ensuing fiasco had at least seen Dark Figure banished into the netherworld through a massive plot hole, but the memory was still unpleasant. He had obtained a new Frosty machine, tacked on what bits and pieces he could salvage from his old one, and headed back to his home country and his old business.

"Joe" basked in the warmth of the last lingering rays of the sun. Business was good in the summer months; the till of his Frosty cart was stuffed with bills, and it was only June. He was looking forward to a long and productive summer. He reflected happily that he might even make enough money to make some upgrades to his Frosty machine, which, in addition to other things, could improve his business capacity even more.

A sudden onslaught of noise snapped him out of his contented train of thought. Over the hills in the direction he was traveling, a sleek silver craft came screaming towards him. Joe ducked instinctively, and grabbed at a concealed lever on his Frosty machine, exposing a row of plain red buttons, above which he hovered his fingers nervously.

The ship stopped, hovering in midair nearby at an altitude of about twenty feet. A small hatch opened, and a lone figure floated down. It began to move in Joe's direction, despite the fact that it did not appear to have the capacity for any motion whatsoever. As it approached, Joe recognized it as a Starman - a heavily bandaged and patched Starman, wearing a rather tacky hat. It was one of the few remnants of the massive Starman army that had participated in the Great Fast Food Battle of last year.

"I remember you!" exclaimed Joe; "You're the one that got smashed into itty bitty pieces with the baseball bat at Jackie's Cafe!"

"*Whirrr* Affirmative," the Starman responded. "My recollection of that *Click* unpleasant event is *Whirr* unnecessarily accurate."

Joe eased his fingers off of the Death Ray control panel on his Frosty machine and eased up a bit. "So, what're you doing here?"

"I have come *Click* to retrieve you," the robot said, almost menacingly, except for the fact that one of its long shoulder spikes fell off at this point. "The Dark Figure *Whirr* demands your presence."

Joe backed off. "Dark Figure?!" he gasped incredulously. "I thought he was gone!"

"Negative," the Starman emitted some beeping noises. "He has *Click* *Whirrr* ...returned. You are coming with me."

Seconds later, the Starman lay in the middle of a small Frosty-blasted circle of dirt, bashed around into a fairly interesting shape. Joe was speeding away into the sky, his Frosty machine's jet engine going full throttle.

"I *Click* hate it when that *BANG* happens..." The Starman fizzled as three small black Interceptor drones flew out of the silver ship and screamed off in pursuit of the Frosty merchant.

Dark Figure brooded.

He sat pensively in his Dark, Evil Chair, tapping his fingers on the Dark, Evil Armrest. He was good at brooding, he thought to himself, and grinned. Then he realized that grinning does not fit very well with the dark, brooding look, and quickly pressed his lips into a thin, menacing line. He shifted his feet and gripped the armrests menacingly for effect.

Dark Figure brooded.

He was thinking. This time, he was going to think long and hard, and plan very carefully. Things had not gone well last time.

Last time. He had come so close to achieving his goals; but those mysterious interlopers had foiled his plans and sent him plummeting into a plot hole of epic proportions.

He remembered it as though it was last year, which indeed it was.

When the plot hole opened up, and he found himself being sucked into it after a sturdy kick in the back from the Hero Dante, he tried everything he could to save himself, but to no avail. Inward he plunged, and the blindingly bright darkness engulfed him.

What he encountered was unimaginable. The very nature of time and logic twisted themselves around each other until they lost all meaning. Headless, tailless threads bucked and careened wildly through the ghostly skeletons of truncated stories. The temporal plane bifurcated recursively; linear trains of logic were no longer discrete entities, with no discernable beginning or end, they wove themselves inextricably into the fundamental fabric of instability itself, winding eternally into the throbbing maelstrom of true Chaos.

How long he floated in that land of indeterminate temporal anomalies, twisted logic, and missing links he could not readily tell. The experience had been maddening. To keep himself from going completely insane, he used what powers he still had to grapple with the randomly flowing strands of chaotic matter, bending them and inflicting Order upon them, shaping them in an attempt to maintain a balance within his mind.

Then something unexpected began to happen. From Dark Figure's feeble attempts at enforcing order, patterns began to emerge. At first slowly: fragile, dancing wisps of logic and continuity that dispersed themselves into madness almost instantaneously; but soon, they began to stabilize. They slowly and painstakingly copied themselves, spawning first tens, then hundreds of feeble oases in a spiraling sea of chaos. The patterns spun, swung, wobbled, danced a 2.4-millisecond version of the minute waltz, progressed into a wildly oscillating tango, and then - stood still. Entropy held the universe in its iron grip, and suddenly it disappeared, taking Dark Figure with it. A twisting journey through a tunnel of shining water, and the plot dumped him back into the real world, weak and depleted.

Dark Figure got up and paced around his Dark, Evil Desk. It had been a long and difficult road, but now, a year after the incident, he was finally beginning to regain his strength. He turned to the large window of his high-altitude Office of Evil, which was covered with cardboard because the construction folks were still working on it, and began shouting.

"I shall have my revenge!! You think you've defeated me, but I shall have the last laugh, I swear it! BUWAHAHAHAHAHAAAA!!" he laughed maniacally. "Oh, and Betty," he snapped into a nearby microphone.

"Yes, Mr. Dark Figure?" his secretary burbled through the radio.

"Get me some coffee."

Joe's Frosty Machine screamed through the air, the upper-altitude winds cutting his face like several sharp and steely knives. The Interceptor drones zipped by, oblivious to any weather conditions, their only focus being the capture of the escaping Frosty vendor.

"Get away from me, ye rapscallions!" Joe shouted in a fake Irish accent. The drones, being robots, paid him little heed, and instead began riddling the flying Frosty Machine with laser fire. One beam struck the hind thruster, causing it to explode violently. The Frosty Machine began a downward spiral toward the lush greenery below.

"Ohhhh holy crap!" Joe yelled as he plummeted to Earth, the drones in his wake.

Just a few inches from the ground, however, the Frosty Machine stopped in midair, suspended by some unseen force. Joe, who did not have his seatbelt on, fell off and plummeted three feet to the ground. The drones, not being able to slow themselves, crashed into the back of the machine and exploded in little balls of fire. "Hmm," Joe said, getting up and examining the Frosty Machine. He noticed a little gauge on the side, where a little arrow was pointing to E. "Guess it ran out of gas," Joe said.

The generally malfunctioning Starman ran up to Joe just then, huffing and puffing all the way (or as much as a robot can huff and puff). "*click* *pant* You will *whirr* come with me. *pant*" He said, aiming his laser gun squarely at Joe. Joe stepped backward, surprised, and tripped over the Frosty Machine. He fell head-first into the grass and sustained a minor concussion. Meanwhile, the nozzle of the Starman's laser gun broke off. "*whirr* Whoops." The Starman said as the laser gun backfired and exploded, taking his left tentacle with it.

Joe stood up. "What? Where am I?"

"You are on a street corner." The Starman replied.

"Who are you?"

"I am the Generally Malfunctioning Starman."

"Who am I?"

"You are Giuseppe Scarpello, alias Joe, a Frosty vendor."

"Why is the sky blue?"

"This phenomena has to do with the white light of the sun being scattered by interfering gas molecules in this planet's atmosphere."

"Where are my pants?"

"You did not button them properly, and they came off as you were falling to Earth."

"Why do hot dogs come in packs of ten and hot dog rolls come in packs of eight?"

This last question took the Starman off guard. He emitted a sort of buzzing sound and smoke began to pour out of the back of his head as bolts of electricity jumped across his frame. In a moment, his cpu audibly fizzled out and a tiny explosion was heard. "*brrr* *zzzt* Initiating Backup Protocol." The Generally Malfunctioning Starman went back online. "Hi!" It shouted. "Who r u? r u my frined?" The Starman drooled from some unknown orifice as he spoke. Joe merely scratched his head.

All of a sudden, a plot hole opened above Joe and the Generally Malfunctioning Starman! "Hay, wahts that??? It si prtty." The Starman droned just as the plot hole expanded and swallowed the two up.

"Alright, buddy, we're here!" Falcon said as he landed, with Silver Tyrano still desperately hanging on. He had no more than spoken these words that an elderly gentleman plummeted from the sky and crashed into a mound of snow before the two of them. He immediately jumped out of the snow drift and looked around warily.

"Why I nevah!" He shouted. "Young whippersnappers today and their newfangled gadgets and their disrespect for their elders! Why in my day if we didn't so much as cut off one of our limbs as a show of respect when an elder entered the room, we'd be in for a paddlin'!"

"O....kay...." Falcon said. "That's weird." Jenkins turned to greet Falcon. It wasn't so much as a greeting as it was him tripping over his untied shoelace and falling face first down the snow drift. He landed at Falcon's feet with a muffled yelp. Silver Tyrano hopped off of Falcon's head and pawed at the old man curiously. He didn't have time to react before Old Man Jenkin's hand reached out and grabbed him up. He squeeked pitifully, but was utterly powerless. Jenkins stood up.

"Ah ha!" He cried. "Silver Mouse! Why I haven't had one of these since Zora's Domain froze over! Tonight, I will dine on Silver Mouse Stew! Uoy-hoy-hoy-hoy!"

Falcon smacked Silver Tyrano out of Old Man Jenkin's grasp, picked his unfortunate friend up, and placed him back on his head. "Okay, old man. I'd make some stupid Milk Commercial jokes right about now but we don't have the time. We're headed to Dr. Andonut's lab to help my friend out here. You're welcome to come along, but no eating any team members! Got it?"

"Yessir " Jenkins replied, emphasizing the smiley.

"What the..." Dark Figure murmured, watching the recent phenomena on his all-seeing video monitor. He had just witnessed a mystical plot hole swallow up both Joe and the Generally Malfunctioning Starman, a plot hole similar to the one that had engulfed him and led to the untimely conclusion of the previous story. He slammed his fist against the monitor. The delicate flatscreen flickered and his computer restarted for some reason, thus causing him to lose his entire post.

"Wait, never mind." Dark Figure said. "That kind of thing only happens to Falcon24 (the author of this here post, not the character), so I should have nothing to worry about!" He grinned in an evil, dark manner. Dark Figure then began pacing in an evil manner characteristic of someone who is Dark and a Figure. "But this plot hole business worries me...what could it mean? This is an unexpected development indeed..."

"Yes, dear Figure! Quite So!" A rather effeminate voice cried. The voice seemed to echo throughout Dark Figure's luxurious command room.

"What the..." Dark Figure murmured again, just as another plot hole ripped open right in front of him. He cringed instantly, half expecting it to consume him once more...but it merely remained their, swirling in a chaotic array of colors. "Who's there!?" Dark Figure shouted.

"Yes, yes...who could it be? What magnificent being could possibly be stepping through this curious story mechanism and thus greet you so? Mmm hmm, it is quite the dilemma, yes, quite! But fear not, oh Darkest of Figures, I shall reveal myself at the present course in time!"

"Shut up!" Dark Figure screamed. "Who in the world are you, and why are you talking like a complete fruit-bat!?"

"Yes, yes, patience is a virtue, Darkest of Figures...and it is here, and now, that I shall reveal myself! I am malevolence! I am cunning! I am exotic, yet not without familiarity!" A black booted foot stepped out of the plot hole, followed by a slender body clothed in a black jumpsuit. As the figure stepped fully from the plot hole, a ghastly visage greeted Dark Figure. It was a face of chalk white complexion, with two burning crimson eyes set deep into their sockets. A mane of cropped auburn hair followed, with two unique red streaks running perpendicular from the temple and to the back of the head. The man was smiling, and it was a sick, devious smile, one tinged with malice -- one of a disgusting, decaying yellow shade.

"I am Raltise!"

Dark Figure's jaw dropped. "You!" He gasped. "You no good dirty backstabbing son of a Nightmare Rock! Haven't you stolen enough stories!?" Dark Figure gasped for air.

"Quite, quite." Raltise murmured, his calculating eyes dancing with a mirthful fire. The blood-red beacons drilled into Dark Figure's mind. "I can see that you are curious as to what I am doing here. You see, I was the one who removed Joe and the Generally Malfunctioning Starman. It is true!"

"...but why!?"

"Because, dear figure, they are old hat! They are two characters from the first story that are already overused and should be removed to make way for fresher, more creative plot points!"

"But they were cool! I liked them! Bring them back!"

Raltise sighed. "Very well, Darkest of Figures." Raltise waved his hand. and a plot hole opened next to him. Joe and the Generally Malfunctioning Starman crashed to the red carpeted floor with a clatter, and simply lied there.

"Good. Now what are you doing here, Raltise?"

"Is it not obvious? I, who am the Master of Illusion, am also now the Master of Plot Holes! They are my creatures to command, and with them, I have doors, windows and chimneys to untold possibilities!"

"But how could you get control of something like that?"

"Ah! That in and of itself is a plot hole; truly, the universe is full of things that cannot be explained. But yes! Irregardless, I am now also the Master of the Plot Hole device, and with them I can offer you untold power, the likes of which you have never dreamed of!"

"And why would you help me?"

"Because, Darkest of Figures, all my plans for universal domination have failed in previous fan fictions, and now I thought I would try my hand at the whole 'teamwork' game. My plan is to work with you and utterly crush the opposition, and once they are done for, I would destroy you with my limitless power!" Raltise grinned maliciously. "But I shouldn't have told you that!" With that, Raltise waved his hand and caused Dark Figure to forget the last thing he said, while at the same time subtly establishing Raltise as the more powerful villain of the story in control of things.

"Fine, then it is done. We will be allies, and crush all before us! We shall both have our own respective forms of revenge!" Dark Figure and Raltise shook hands, both of them laughing maniacally in unison. Suddenly, Dark Figure grew serious.

"One last question."

Raltise frowned. "Oh?"

"...Irregardless?"

Raltise huffed, acting as if he was offended. "I thought it was a perfectly cromulent word."

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