"As always, your rations are gross," commented Travid's little sister, who had managed to scarf down a bite. The blank expression of her face hid the underlying expressions of pity. They had rarely eaten the rations, as mom usually provided the money for the food.

But times were tough. The inflations left the family struggling to pay for the house, albeit a small one, and so the children could only eat the rations Travid had ordered once a week. It iwasn't the best way to survive, but they had no other options. And now, the two kids were stuck with artificial meat and supplements. Travid wasn't much of an avid hunter, and ingredients were hard to come by.

Travid nodded in agreement, and calmly ate his supper, some sort of starchy mush called "potato", flash-frozen for preserving nutrients and such.

With an almost-graceful stab, she impaled the cut of meat, and wolfed it down without relish.

The two, in unison, pushed their chairs out, cleaned the table and prepared the articles for washing. The older brother got a soppy mess of bubbles from under the sink, while she got the hot water running from the spout. And so, they cleaned their trays, paying no attention to the other, but perfectly cooperating all the same.

"Wish dad didn't have to be in prison," she grumbled, stacking a tray on the drying rack. She pulled open a drawer, shoved the trays in, and slammed it shut.

"I know," Travid replied, putting the detergent back under the sink.

"He would've been a lot of help to us," she went on, pacing back and forth more irritably.

"He made his own decisions," Travid explained.

"Decisions that left his family in ruins," she muttered. She shoved past her brother, back into her bedroom.

Travid sighed, and wiped his face with his hand. She was right in every way. Yet, there was something in her words that were wrong. Ever since their father had left, they didn't have to be dealing with the threats from any troublemaker, nor did the house regularly smell like booze, nor did Travid have to steal to provide for himself. But still, when his father was sober, he was a loving man. It was like two sides of a coin, one desired, one feared. Of course, Travid's little sister hadn't reached consciousness at the time, so she thought more highly of the old man.

Travid walked up to the bedroom door, and knocked.

"Go away," was the reply.

The young man remained silent, contemplating on what he should say to her. After several minutes, he opened the door, and walked straight towards his sister.

She was curled up on the bed, reading a book. Immediately, she looked up at him and pouted. He motioned over her to come over, to which she obeyed.

"I know that we both have our own opinions of Dad," Travid started, pulling up a dossier.

"Is there something having to do with Dad in this?" she asked, opening it.

"Read it."

"...but I still love Dad. You know that," she sighed as she finished the report. They were both on the bed, reading the dossier side-by-side. "Even if he was a monster. Even if he was better off dead, if not in prison."

"Then you're lucky not to have gained any conscience while he was in the house," Travid sighed right back. "Although, it was like he never noticed you in his drunk state. Only when he was sober did he care for you."

"Maybe he was trying to make it up through me?"

"There's the smart girl I know. We'll talk about it later. Are you done with your homework?"

His little sister smiled, and pulled out a folder. Travid flipped it open, and they read each note, report card, and test, one by one...

Travid, knowing his sister, was not surprised to find almost all of them in the high 80% to low 90% range. For a girl like her, being "poor" and "troubled" (noted by some of her peers), she was floating loftily in the academics.

"End of school already?" asked Travid, suddenly confused. If he remembered, it was some time in early spring...

"No, bumped up to the next grade!" she clarified, now happily shaking the bed.

"Way to go, sis! And I was wondering why you seemed a bit happier when you came back."

"Happier? I was the same every day!"

~~~

That memory wasn't so distant, but it was quite a while ago. It had been about a month now, and Travid's little sis had her face glued into textbooks, studying intently about the history of ancient civilizations, long past on other planets.

The young man was nodding off in the Jelly Palace's courtyard, resting from the long day of work. He had fought tooth and nail recently, and was allowed by his squad leader to catch his breath for a few. These raids, performed on the palace daily, were nothing special. Since the Royal Jelly would easily remove the Rock Salt blockading the elevators, the Order found it simply more convenient to rip apart any gel for its crowns.

On this particular run, his little sis and mother would be eating well tonight.

With a grin on his face, he was about to get up, when something hit him on the back of his head, hard. Another blow darkened his vision, and fell backwards, onto the grass.

It felt like shards of glass in his head.

A cackling could be faintly heard, one belonging to that of a gremlin...

Antworker and Vinnydime says that it's "panic ensues".

And please, contact Antworker. I only use Vinnydime as a writing account.

*THUMP*

Felicity landed on the elevator with a thud, and looked straight ahead of her. A figure, wrapped by some type of material, had turned around, although it's face was covered by a hood. The light breeze of the Treasure Vault only served to complement the figure's shape.

Under this hood, a pair of lips sighed, and then smiled.

"Hello again," it said, the voice chiming through the air like a bell. It was definitely the lady.

Felicity stood up from her crouch slowly, watching the woman's movements. Only one hand, her right hand, was hanging out the sleeve. It was the same hand that had led on Felicity through the Arcade, the one with the soft, embracing touch. Felicity breathed in, and let out her breath, slowly. She took a few steps, one by one, in the woman's direction, and hesitated.

"Um, hello, miss.." Felicity was about to say, but she realized she didn't know the woman's name.

"Miss..? Please, call me Gwenyvier," she replied, lifting off her hood. The face was exactly as she had seen it; silver-white locks, sapphire eyes, a pale complexion...

"Gw-Gwenyvier-san," Felicity was about to go on, "c-crap! Gwenyvier..."

"You speak an ancient language?" Gwen asked. Her very voice was like that of honey, flowing and sweet.

"I-uhm, yes. I speak an ancient language, one that Monty- Montague taught me. You remember the mewkat at the receptionist's desk?"

"He is your guardian, I presume. I've watched him every now and then, and his adopting you was something I've never seen before. I must say, I am curious."

"Th-then..." Felicity stuttered, her cheeks becoming red, "what was the whole thing at the Arcade for?"

"That?" Gwenyvier giggled. "That was because I needed to meet you. I found potential in you, as I had for another one..."

At the lattermost statement, Felicity suddenly felt very envious. Envious that there had been someone before her, envious that they may have gone more intima-

"Sorry if I excited you," Gwenyvier suddenly burst, "I just felt...rash. I don't know what came over me. I assure you, I haven't done that type of contact in a long while..."

The girls sighed in relief, and they both sat down.

"I had potential?" Felicity asked, tilting her head in curiousity.

"Yes, you had potential," Gwenyvier answered, "you had contact with a particularly powerful being..."

"Margrel," Felicity finished.

"Margrel, although not of this world, like all things here are, had considerable power. If it weren't for all those seals, he would've been above par with Vog," she explained, her words ringing with truth.

"S-so, what do you want with Margrel?"

"I want to find a certain someone. He is like one of you Knights, but he is also something quite different entirely. Ever since he left your Order, nobody, not even I, could find him. The last person he talked to, his accomplice, had passed away..."

"How did he or she passed?"

"She committed suicide."

"..."

"He said that he was going to open the Core, but he'll need help."

"And that's where I'll come in?"

"And that's were we come in..."
~~~

Author's Notes: As you know, Lyra is DEAD. Don't expect her coming back. Ever.

Liminori, Aekyuri, Fehzor?

Anyone else besides seat, thin, shot, trav, skye, and aekyuri watching this?

"Is the poison working?" the Shadowmaster asked, pacing back and forth in the Deconstruction Zone. He had a serious bruise on his cheek, but he paid no mind to cover it up.

Next to him, the unconscious body of Travid and...

...what seemed to be a mix of a Ghostmane Stalker and a Mender. The Darkfang emblem was present on the shadow-black hood, but it had been dyed crimson. Under this hood was a gremlin with a periwinkle hue of fur, holding a very feminine shape. This gremlin silently nodded, checking the Knight's blood pressure, heart rate, and so forth.

The Shadowmaster patiently waited on the other Gremlin, pacing back and forth, hands behind his back. The rustle of soft linen indicated that his accomplice was ready.

Gremlins, for the most part, were usually rebellious at heart. Thus, they were badly coordinated in battle, and had to be dictated for any control to happen. This was why Tinkinzar was made king; there would be only anarchy if there was no form of dictatorship. In the Shadowmaster's case, he simply did not like being ordered around, but he held this grudge in himself as he crouched by Travid's legs, getting ready to lift the hefty Knight up.

"One...two...three," the other gremlin ordered, gently lifting the Knight's head upon her bosom, her crossed arms under his spine. The Shadowmaster complied, and placed each of Travid's legs on his shoulders. With another three-count, the two Gremlins stood up, and awkwardly waddled out of the room, towards a chair hooked up to the once-abandoned wiring of the Deconstruction Zone.

~~~

Travid, in his dream, was walking around Haven, or something reminiscent to that. He was wandering around the Town Square, which had been covered in an occasional splatter of red. Fearful as to what might happen if he came into contact with the splashes, he avoided them entirely, not stopping to even observe them. As he goes down the Garrison's steps, he sees a silhouette sitting by the fountain, splashing water into its face.

When did he last remember that...?

"V-Vin?" he shouted, slowing down his walk to half his speed. Travid rubbed his eyes, but the silhouette was still there. "H-hey! Remember me?!" Travid shouted again. The silhouette did not reply, but instead sat there like a puppet.

Curious, the Knight took step by step towards the figure, reaching his hand out...

Until he found a knife erupt from his palm. The pain was real, very real. Travid screamed in pain, clutching his wrist as he had done so. Suddenly, everything went all white...

"Too much stimulation! Get a sedative NOW!" the Knight heard a gremlin demand. It had a tinge of feminine quality to it. Before his eyes could adjust to the bright light, he felt something enter his neck, and a fluid pumped in...

He was back in the hospital room, chained to the bed.

And then he knew what was happening. He had been captured by that rumored Gremlin, probably being interrogated in his sleep.

There would be no one to get him out of this mess, however.

Just wanted to see if any new readers would wanna read up to this point. If so, tell me how should my writing improve!

I kinda dropped this to RP like crazy XD

Maybe I'll do this in June?

Travid was in a coma-induced sleep, probably being interrogated by a Gremlin in his sleep. He just needed to get out of the dream, and he would able to fight his way out...

For now, he was stuck in a fake hospital, in a fake Haven. In this dream, he would have to find a away to startle himself awake. But Haven was empty. As he walked out of the fake hospital, he found that the fountain in the town was empty. Probably a deliberate placebo sutffed into the dream. No water would wake him up now...

He certainly couldn't kill himself. A violent reaction would only make his wakening too strong, too noticeable. Something in his dream would have to lull him awake. But...like he remembered, Haven was empty. He doubted there would be any stimulants in the hospital; he didn't even see a first aid kit in there.

"...Haven has an Arcade, that's where we enter the Clo-" Travid mumbled to himself, before stopping.

"What the heck..."

They were probably asking him what Haven looked like. Which means...the interrogation had already begun.

~~~

Meanwhile, the two Gremlins were busy at work. The Shadowmaster was busy running left and right, grabbing trays and instruments of all kinds at the other's commands. Meanwhile, the doctor was working on some machine. Rather, it was a computer twice, if not thrice, her height. Buttons literally covered the device from the bottom up, while three big tanks, one of them filled with blood. All three chemicals were smoothly flowing into Travid through a single hose from the back.

"Morphine," the doctor mumbled. At this, the Shadowmaster set down a tray in his hands, and tripped over the power cords hooked up to the chair, causing a big clatter. Instead of waiting, the doctor grabbed the morphine instead, and injected it into his arm.

It was going to be a battle for all three of them.