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Varyd frowned.

So, he was naught more than a glorified errand boy, a string plucked on his associate's instrument? He took pride in orders received from the grandiose authority entrusted upon him by the Pillars, but _this_was something less elegant. Brutish, vile, everything he was not. Sol help him, it took every ounce of control not to run his saber through The Dealer's innards - that mocking, pale intruder who thought so highly of his petty interferences. But, Varyd reminded himself, it was for the good of Solaria.

By Her Eternal, if it meant delivering something for an otherworldly creature, so be it.

At the least, the Ordis Commander's station allowed him to glide through the interior of the Glorium Maxa with little resistance. It was not to suggest his particular "mission" required a great deal of stealth, but the less questions imposed, the better. It was, essentially, a simple task of setting a game piece in the right place, and the rest would follow. Astonishingly simple, in fact, much that you could ask a drunken _Yoklin_to do it.

It didn't need to be Varyd, but the Dealer so delighted in making light of his authority, even in the most juvenile of manners. Still. The end result was worth it: a greater trade of corrupted Ichor, all for the indulgences of a rogue daemon.

The Dealer's ploy was straightforward: he granted Varyd a "device" of bizarre, alien stone. Or metal? Flesh? It was alarming, hard to stare at, fitting in Varyd's hand while sparking with obscene scarlet-hued symbolica. Circles and lines and shapes and words flickered from the object's framework like a profane fire. Varyd couldn't recognize them, despite some of his previous studies, and frankly, didn't care to. The long and short was thus: place the device in the glorified gala where the "guests" would congregate. That was all.

When Varyd inquired as to why, the Dealer granted him only grins and cryptic responses. He asserted it would yank free the nightmares of the mind and cause a "dandy little row, some much needed havoc." Varyd could only assume what it meant.

A greater, fiendish ploy, no doubt. As the Ordis Commander, Varyd took pride in security, and here he was, in direct contrast to it. Well, as clever as The Dealer found himself, Varyd had a few of his own tricks. Perhaps this gave him a much-needed excuse to extinguish these daemonic visitors - if nothing more than for the sport. He'd collect the Empire's prize and be done with it. Then, the Maxa would return to the Capita Prima with entire reservoirs of corrupted ichor, enough to feed the dying Iron Sun, perhaps.

No matter where he went, he could not help but feel he was watched by forces unknown.

With a grunt, Varyd set back to his task.

-*-

Aloise wiggled his slender finger, fuchsia energy sparkling from his filed black nail, the book page swiping to the next as his lips pursed into a smile. Oh, a heat bubbled in his chest, a rush of excitement spiking through him.

"I couldn't keep myself from you!" said Otzli. "Damn my station, damn my bloodline!"

The Owl Prince fluttered, cooed, and rushed to his love. "Oh, my precious Otzy, my heart! It whines for thee! It aches for thee!"

"Yes!" continued Otzli, embracing his love, Stelzas, running fingers through his feathers, gripping slender, exotic frame. "I burn, I cannot hold myself back!"

"Oh!" hooted the Prince. "Then take me!"

Aloise offered a quiet chuckle, sipping the dark liquid in his wine glass. Finally, The Owl Prince was getting to the good stuff. Leeya Lust was a rambler of a writer, her paragraphs a frantic escapade of verbosity and littered with so much sticky, overplayed romance it was exhausting. But my goodness, once cocks were in holes, the reading got good. It was a wonder these stuffy tomes were all the rage on the Maxa's cruises.

His ears perked and loins rustled as his eyes traced over the next downpour of words. Lots of tongue and beak-work involved. Delightful.

He paused. The parallels were not lost on him. The ravenous lower creature taking his prince, hah. And here Aloise was, enjoying the tale like he had naught a care in the world. So high above it all, dining on sumptuous meats and fine drink, supping on Edwin's cock, drowning himself in the local airborne theater. Twas like old times, really, times back when he rubbed shoulders in the higher social affairs of Vallen. Times back when he sniffed Solt, the local opiod, before finding himself a dashing lad and, well, partaking.

Here he was. Tipsy, in a skimpy robe, residing in the finest fleetship of Sol Solaria, closet full of clothes, pockets fat, briefly out of sight from his tormentors, with his friends - all so picturesque, so perfect. Happy.

So why wasn't he happy?

Aloise tapped his fingers. They were rich. They were doing well. Edwin was coming around (and coming in him, ah-hah). Aloise was enjoying his evening by reading a trash smut novel. So. Why?

A part of him so desperately wanted to say they were safe. So desperately to weave a lie, and blind himself to the dangers hosted in the Glorium Maxa. To glance to his sleeping Edwin, to perhaps even lie with the swamper, embrace the man like he was something more, to behold that sensation and thrive in it, and again, say "we are safe." But he couldn't. They were not. Something dark lingered in the heart of this ship, familiar but not.

He huffed, forcing his eyes back to the book. Right at the point where a cock tip nestled at the Prince's noble hole. He should enjoy that lovely stanza of erotic indulgence, but no such enjoyment arrived. How could he?

Right now, Edwin was sleeping! Right now, Aloise wasn't picking lice out of his tailcoats. Right now, PIk hadn't set a whole tavern ablaze. They had something special, sacred even - if he could be so bold. The comfort of the other with the wind at their backs. A threat to that was unfathomable. But, Aloise knew it lingered here, and if he truly sat on his fat arse and ignored it, what was that? What deep, unbelievable cruelty was he truly committing, to so brazenly put his companions in harm's way with his willful ignorance?

He'd skewer a man alive for ruining a good suit, but Aloise couldn't abide by the idea of Edwin getting hurt. Or Pik, despite how _irritating_she was.

He snapped the book shut. His mind solidified, flicking back to that stranger, the man calling himself "Zetsu." He was trouble, like Aloise assumed. More so, though, he was like an ignition, and this whole ship was carrying black powder. What Zetsu intended to do could threaten everything. Even if not directly, he might set in motion a terrible sequence of events. Aloise rather liked it up here, so he preferred it to stay that way.

With an agitated sigh, he pushed the book aside. "Anozher time, Leeya."

He finished his wine and stood with graceful swagger, going to the guest room's central interior. Here, he stripped down, revealing his lithe, effeminate frame - wide hips and all - snapping his fingers. At once, two duplicates of burning, bright pink energy appeared next to him, bowing dutifully. Additionally with them, a conjured closet - at least in appearance.

Rather, a dark, incandescent material coalesced into existence. It was black as sin, shivering against the light as though made of blood and shadow. It was his personal inventory, stored in the pocket of Aloise's essence a "purse in your soul," he once put it. Within this closet was the wide arsenal of clothes Aloise enjoyed - everything from form-hugging silk to posh, princely suits.

He glanced around briefly, keeping quiet, hoping not to wake the others. Satisfied, the copies sorted through his attires until locating one suiting Aloise's particular taste. When killing, one always had to look their best. He with style was he who claimed victory.

Yes, and like before, a black suit hugging his frame did just fine. The short tailcoat drew eyes to his haunches, but remained short enough to not impede him. The inner coat pockets gave him room for "accessories" and a dash of perfume added an elegant aroma to what would likely mix with unpleasant, repulsive scents. Gore, shit, and blood? No thank you.

Boot-heels finished the ensemble, shaped to his feet. The copies pat him down and buttoned his vest closed, assuring the suit was free of wrinkles. Now, the rest.

"Hmm."

Considerations here were important. With another finger snap, the closet vaporized. Here, a large trunk replaced it, comprised of the same perverse energy. Where the closet hosted an army of clothing, this container held a soldier's ransom worth of killing instruments. Knives and pointy things, mainly.

He knew little of this Zetsu, save for an attraction that may yet prove fatal. Something close and personal then, perhaps? Ahh, the straight-razor - specifically the one with the black oak handle and finished edge, good for slipping across the neck. And a poignard? That would do. Other throwing knives hidden under a sleeve or pocket also proved invaluable, depending on how 'intimate' this would all get.

Aloise clicked his teeth. Was he forgetting something? He thought back to Zetsu again. The man was armed, despite his jovial character. The handles of two blades were visible on his person, and no fool swaggered his way onto a ship like the Maxa without wealth or skill. If Aloise had to fight. . .

Well, it was a while since he dealt with an extended "encounter." So, a blade then? He swayed his hands, weapons rising and flickering past him as he rummaged through the container, eyes dancing over the varied selections. Until. . .

"Aha."

Yes, quite, the hybrid. The "sabier," a rapier-saber popular among the nobility. He selected the one and only in his possession - Zhe Umbral Rhozen - a nasty weapon with a curved, tapering edge, twisted hilt and elegant wrist guard. He sucked a fool of a lad clean for it, then killed said lad with it. An item of tragedy, theatrically appropriate.

Sated, he gave a dismissive snap and the container dissolved. Aloise drew a long breath and centered himself, thinking on what needed to be done. First, he needed to find Zetsu and upend whatever impulsive scheme the stranger was concocting in his head. Then, he'd interrogate him, find out if he knew more than he let on. Then . . .

Aloise gave a dry chuckle, putting fingers to bridge of his bun nose. "Zhen what, I save everyone? Pfah."

On his lonesome? Clearly. He didn't know what the daemons were here for, exactly. But given his own history as an Incubus, he could take a guess, and that put his friends in arm. Cock-all to the poor lot on this ship, they didn't really concern him, but his companions were a different matter.

Well, time was wasting. If he acted quickly enough he might single-handedly halt this disaster, just in time for the theater. He strode to the door, quiet on his heels. . .

"Where you goggin' off to, pretty boy?"

"ACK!"

Aloise near-binked, swinging his attention to a grinning, snickering Pik. "Gettin' more perfumes and dick lube?"

The rabbit wasn't here to fool about. "Go back to sleep, Pik."

The Yoklin snickered. "You're wearin' like you're about ready to stab a whole tavern of fellas. What gives?"

"Pik."

The shortstack crossed her arms, dim light playing against her green features. "Oh, stuff it, bun boy. You look like you're rearing for a zokkin' fight and I LOVE fights."

Aloise narrowed his gaze. His eyes went pitch black, beady spheres of pink leering from his stare. "Zhis isn't a game."

He gestured with a finger, towards where Edwin slept. "You need to stay here and protect Edwin."

Pik tilted her head, blinking. "Wha? The hell you say? Stop _zukking_around, Al."

Pik wiggled her hands around her. "Are you all dick hard cause of the. . . well, ya' know."

She tapped her forehead, gesturing to her hidden eye. "I know what's what too, smart ass. The spooks, the heeber-jeebers? You're not the only one with fancy-schmancy Murz."

Aloise decided not to waste any more time, turning to the door again. He didn't have the energy to indulge Pik with explanations or justifications. Maybe later when this was all done. "I'll be back soon."

Pik snorted. "BWAHA! Not without me!"

She jammed a thumb behind her. "Gimme' a break, bun boy. Bogbrain can handle himself, and you need help. My help, specifically."

Aloise considered arguing. He considered impaling the girl by the legs to keep her here. He considered the time. "Fine," he conceded. "I'll use you as a shield."

"Love ya' too you prissy bitch!" said Pik with a snort and salute.

"Besides," she continued, "You'll want me around so I can tell you alllll bout Eddy's big dog dick, bwehehe!"

Aloise paused. ". . .what?"

Pik said nothing, wearing a smile, while Aloise squinted. "I'll skewer it out of you later."

-*-

Tracking him proved difficult.

Aloise mulled over where Zetsu might have wandered off too. The Glorium Maxa was far too large to explore from bow to stern, with multiple layers and access points every which way. Certainly, he could wait for chaos to ensue, but what that led to was precisely what Aloise wanted to avoid. He tried to think like the fool - head lost in the clouds of lust - though it didn't yield any answer.

Then again. . .

The bun glanced at his smaller counterpart. "Given zhe choice between fighting or fucking," he said. "What zhen?"

The Yoklin blinked. "Bwuh?"

"Do you zhink our quarry would prefer to wet his cock first, or his blade?"

Pik was vaguely familiar with Zetsu, at least based on what Aloise explained to her. "Oh," she chirped. "Well that's easy. Cock. Always cock."

Indeed. Zetsu was quite forward. Aloise could use that to his advantage. A fight was thrilling, but tedious, and something told him time wasn't on their side. All they had to do was find the rooster. . .

It proved easier than the pair expected. The bun had to give Zetsu some credit - he was nothing if not theatrical. A characteristic he could approve of.

The rabbit daemon suspected to sniff out the gala entrance first, where the elaborate dinner party was scheduled to host. This was, after all, where the event horizon of befouling imagery emanated from, or so he and Pik sensed.

Indeed, at the end of one of the Maxa's halls lie two enormous doors, enough they could host a church sermon crowd. But for now, they were closed, and more so guarded. And who should be trying to aggravate said host, who would dare to waggle his sword about like a freed dick?

"Silence is an art, and I appreciate the sentiment!"

Zetsu.

Aloise halted, stopping Pik by her shoulder. His ears stood tall and he watched at a distance, peering at their quarry. What was he doing?_As well, something else was askew. The guards - the two sentries - they were off. Not the usual mean clad in regal armor and _Solarian symbology. No, these were. . . worse. Two immense frames draped in robes of deep red, their heads entirely obscured by large, bronze conical helmets. There were no holes, slits, or spaces for the guards to see through, and yet they remained defiant. In each their arms were long, black spears, simple but deathly elegant. They spoke not, save for a rancid, gurgling breath that droned as a funeral dirge. And Zetsu was taunting them.

"Have you no sense of respect?" continued the stranger. "For my mission? My noble goal? There, beyond those doors! Evil lies beyond!"

They didn't notice Pik or Aloise. The Yoklin - spying the guards - went a shade paler. "Wugh," she squeaked, quiet. "Zok! Zeek! Badbadbad!"

Aloise shared the sentiment. Glancing at the sentries hurt his eyes.

"Look," continued Zetsu. "I'm giving you fellows a simple choice! Help me. Just open the door. If you don't, well. . ."

Oh the damned fool. Men and swords, as bad as a cock in a brothel. Aloise needed this to stop so he could get on with the reset of the night.

"Zetsu?" called Aloise, stepping into view, his voice _extra_soft. "What are you doing over zhere?"

The wanderer stiffened, twirled, then gawked. He gazed at Aloise like an angel had come before him, blinking as if it was but a rare vision. Realizing it was indeed not, Zetsu smirked, rolled a hand through his slick, jet hair, and grinned.

"My prince!" he called. "What is this? How is it that we meet again, like star crossed lovers!? Oh, truly, this is destiny!"

Pik frowned. "Zuh?"

Aloise grimaced then forced a smile, wiggling his fingers. "Yes, hm, yes. Destiny. Ahem."

The sentries did not move, continuing to rasp. For the moment, Zetsu's attention was away from them. Aloise preferred it that way, as it looked Zetsu was ready to cut loose at any given moment.

"Alas, I was drowning, confused! Your spectacle, it put me in ways I never thought before. But I came to my senses and resolved to meet you again. How fortuitous it's now!"

Pik snorted, crossing her arms. "Bwahahghghaghg. Are you drunk!? What are you gaffin' about, lip-lop?"

Zetsu noted Aloise was not alone, squinting at the interloper. "Uh. . . who is this? They weren't in my visions. A ghastly ghoul, perhaps?"

Aloise took a step forward. "Yes. Ghoul. Zhat is right. Now, Zetsu, why don't you come over here. Zhtop all zhis silliness! Let's, um. Talk."

Pik blew a raspberry while the swordsman blinked, tilting his head. "Talk? Ah, you pluck at my heart, you sweet peach."

Now, Zetsu bowed his head, closed his eyes, and smirked, tossing an arm to the side with dramatic flair. "But that is not my path. This is my warrior's journey."

He turned around. "And you two are blocking it."

Aloise's ears flicked. No! The damned fool. "Zetsu."

The air shifted. The guards seemed to finally notice Pik and Aloise, their conical helmets moving, "looking" at the duo. Both the Yoklin and Incubus felt it, the menace of their eyeless gaze, how their presence scraped the area with something zealous and foul. Then, a deep, agonizing groan bellowed from them, like blood rushing through a geyser, an inhuman sound. Both grabbed their pointed spears and hoisted them in a threatening position, clear with intent to assault the trio. Or at least, Aloise and Pik.

"Bwuh oh," Pik gulped. "Can we uh. . . go get Eddy?"

Aloise snorted, gripping the hilt of the Rhozen. "You wanted a fight."

"Not with Reavies!"

She was right to be intimidated. These were Solarian Reavers, radically "enhanced" for the specific purpose of hunting any foe, daemon or otherwise. They were stripped of all personality, humanity, and identity, encased in pentinent helmets and their bodies layered with enchanted markings.

One took a step forward, its boot thumping the floor. Zetsu spun, realizing a fight was upon him.

"Ahh, I see you've elected defeat, well th-"

The swordsman was cut off as a sharp, black point shoved into his chest. It would've connected were he not to bounce back with surprising grace, now unsheathing his own dueling blade. "Hwuh! You're a randy sort then, aren't you?"

Aloise released Zhe Rhozen from her home, the sabier cutting the air with a flash of glimmering silver. He raised it before him, eyeing his opponents down as Zetsu took position with he and Pik.

"Ahh, romantic, isn't it?" he said to Aloise.

"Shut up and fight!" hissed the Incubus.

The attacking Reaver straightened, its counterpart arriving at its side. Their brutish, metallic breathing gurgled through the bolted brass, and though no eyes were visible, one could feel their dreadful stare.

"The heck with these bofwafs," snorted Pik. On her short person was a satchel, to which she quickly withdrew a pair of bulbous fungal-heads. "I'll send em' to a right fukken nasty part of hell, hehe."

As she spoke, one of the behemoths started towards the trio, while Pik lobbed her pair of mushrooms. They were not ordinary, however, trailing with sparks of violent purple. The moment they made impact upon the attacker, both exploded in a spectacular cloud of pinkish fire, setting the assailant blaze. That was the idea, at least.

Said creature continued its march through the haze, and though perverse flame stuck to its soured flesh, it gave no indication of pain or harm, even as bits of charred skin fell from it. Pik groaned. "Fuk."

The other, meanwhile, was quick and drove its pointed lance towards Aloise. The rabbit danced backward, his hackles rising as the "sanctified" metal hissed with snakes of red energy, the proximity a danger to him.

"Brute!" he shouted.

Zetsu took the moment and made a quick dash forward, lunging his tapered weapon into the guts of the Reaver. Then, with a quick cut, slash through its innards, spilling its greenish guts. "Hah. A little slow on the draw."

But again, the creature showed no indication of harm, and with dreadful force yanked its spear free from the floor and swiped, smashing into Zetsu. It was enough force to send him sprawling backward with an ugly _thump_as he collided into the wall. Aloise frowned.

"Get yourself killed later, idiot!"

Zetsu hacked, catching his breath as he went to a knee. "Nnrgh. . . s-so. . . sweet. . ."

The gutted Reaver turned its attention to Aloise, preparing for another strike. Instead, Aloise wanted to end this fast, and seeing how the marked flesh was impervious to pain. . .

He made an elegant cut - or as elegant as one could be in this circumstance - slicing through the Reaver's left arm. Blackish, gurgling blood dribbled from the injury as the pale limb collapsed to the ground, though the menacing thing only briefly regarded it. Aloise was fortunate only in that the guards were sluggish, any faster and this situation would've gotten worse.

As for the other, it rushed Pik, shoving its weapon with frightening speed. Pik hopped as the lance flew right betwixt her legs. "Gah! At least pay first, you fukko!"

She put a bit of distance between herself and the assailant, this time retrieving a bottle from her person. It was filled with a glowing orange liquid. Popping its cork, she guzzled it a draft down, inhaling as she did. When the attacker continued its assault, Pik pushed her thump to her lips. Her third, daemonic eye quivered to life, a spasm of black fire appearing at the tip of her digit. With a hardy blow, she expunged the liquid, creating a small cone of perverse heat.

The sentry pushed through it, but its flesh waivered and sloughed away as the searing, profane flames devoured it, melting away its body and guts, mutating the helmet. Despite the Reaver's resilience towards pain, it could not march without legs, of which Pik's horrifying arcana made quick work of. Despite this, its collapsed torso crawled towards Pik, its hideous breathing still audible.

"GUH!" Pik said, making a face. "PLUNKIN' REAVY!"

The other still living Reaver lunged at Aloise, with a burst of motion taking even the rabbit off guard. He managed to sweep his blade to shift the angle of the spear, but the black metal scraped against his shoulder, sending a searing bite of hissing pain through his torso.

"Agh!" Aloise whined, clenching his teeth with a mix of panic and fury. He could feel his flesh wither, even from the small cut. A full on strike would cause him mortal wounds! Back, back, back, he hopped to put distance between he and the sentry, gripping the wound. Hot blood dampened his palm and fur, causing the rabbit to growl.

"You ruined my suit!" he screeched. An absolutely unforgivable slight!

The remaining Reaver made no indication it cared what the Incubi said, or that its ally was gone. Instead, it prepared to lunge at Aloise once more, feverish in its motions. Perhaps cutting it at the guts and slicing its arm angered it. It took a step, readying to attack, until. . .

The air cracked as a thin chain-like whip snaked towards it, a weighted shape at its end. The line of metal curled around the Reaver's remaining arm, yanked back, delaying its movement. A cough came after.

"Excuse me!" said a defiant Zetsu. "Dare you forget about me!?"

Zetsu had unleashed a hidden weapon from his person. . . or rather some sort of grappling device. Indeed, a mechanical apparatus clicked and whirred, holding the chain while Zetsu gave a ferocious tug, forcing the Reaver to shift its attention. With great force it tugged its arm, bucking Zetsu, though the stranger did not yield.

"Don't you bruise that peach!" he said, smiling as a fool. Aloise rolled his eyes, but saw opportunity.

Zetsu was a ridiculous man, but he gave Aloise an opportunity. From his coat pocket, the bun withdrew an elegant knife and held it in spare hand, dashing towards the Reaver. With a great, bounding leap, he lunged the knife into its neck, or at least, what could be deemed as a neck. With the knife firmly in place, Aloise took Zhe Rhozen and crossed the metal points, a scissor with the fiend's head at the axis.

It hurt to be so close to the Reaver, its inscribed flesh emanating with sanctified arcana - the kind meant to destroy the likes of Aloise. But he'd abide to exact his vengeance - this was a custom suit! With a grunt, Aloise crossed his arms in an elegant but brutal fashion, the metal shrieking through the Reaver's flesh like butter. The head snapped off and Aloise kicked away from it as the body finally collapsed, bubbling viscera leaking from the death-wound.

Aloise heaved, clenching his fangs, wiggling sabier free of the blood. He frowned, returning Zhe Rhozen back to her home, withdrawing a kerchief to clean the dagger. Then, his eyes glanced at the wound, flinching at the hissing injury, growling from the damage to his attire. His posh fingers squeezed the bridge of his nose, teardrop tail wiggling in furious patterns.

"Wogh!" shouted Pik who jogged into view. "Nice one, bun boy! I forgot you could handle more than cocks, bahaha!"

"Hmph," he snorted.

With the foe felled, a grinding of gears filled the air as Zetsu's whip retrieved itself. He pat his chest, regaining breath, waltzing over to the pair. "Ahh, a noble fight, a miraculous dance! The ancestors brought us together, I believe this. Why else would you be my savior?"

Aloise gave a long, exacerbated sigh. He found the rooster, all right, with all his heroic clucking to boot. After his dress getting damaged, however, he wasn't fooling around anymore.

"Not your savior," snipped Aloise. "I'm here to stop zhis nonsense."

Zetsu gazed at the carnage. "Nonsense? This is art!"

"Idiot!" challenged Aloise. "You could've been killed. And worse, you were about to do zhomething stupid!"

Zetsu bowed. "I can handle myself. But your concern is not lost on deaf ears, my prince. Oh, though you wear thorns on your heart, I can see the tender rose."

Pik snorted. "Are you fukken high?"

The stranger remembered the Yoklin. "Oh. Right. You're here too, uh, you."

Pik looked up at Aloise. "Why are we saving his ass again?"

"Ahhh," chimed Zetsu. "Hidden feelings, of course."

Aloise hissed and grabbed Zetsu by the tunic, yanking him close and flashing a knife, keeping the point an inch from his neck. "Listen to me very, very closely."

Zetsu froze.

"You are not going past zhat door. You are leaving with us. In fact, you should get off zhis ship! And if you don't, I'll slice zhat tongue and toss it to zhe dogs!"

Zetsu blinked, grinning. "I'm very aroused right now."

"Ugh!"

"I'm sorry, my prince, but destiny beckons."

"Fuck your destiny!"

"Don't tempt me! The bed comes after."

Pik pressed her hands to hips. "Wow. This guy."

Aloise was quickly losing what little patience he had left. _"Zetsu._I will hurt you if I have to."

At once, Zetsu's hand came to grab the sharp, unforgiving blade, squeezing it so hard it drew rivers of blood. He smiled. "You can't."

Fool. Absolute fool. "Idiot."

Aloise was prepared to do what was needed. However, Pik distracted him, tugging his pants.

"Um. Al?"

"Not now!"

She punched him. "Look, dummy."

Aloise swung his gaze to the hall where he and PIk arrived from. There, in glorious commander attire, a host of guards behind him, was a man the rabbit didn't recognize. He carried a bizarre trinket in one hand which sparked with ominous red symbols.

A team of guards took position - men carrying Solarian rifles by the looks, far too many to dodge or outfight in a single go.

The commander spoke. "I see we have more guests. Are you working with him?"

Aloise blinked. Him? Didn't matter, he couldn't lie his way through this one. And, judging by the symbols drifting from the commander's fetish, this was related to the daemonic presence he and Pik sensed earlier.

When they didn't respond, Ordis Commander Varyd frowned. "No matter."

One of the soldiers - of slightly higher rank - spoke. "Orders to fire?"

Varyd raised a hand, shaking his head. "No, no. I think this may work to my advantage."

He took a step forward. "Surrender yourselves."

There was a pregnant, uncertain pause. Aloise studied the man and his entourage. It was possible they could fight through this, though not unscathed. Though, even if they survived, the commotion would put this entire ship on alert. Then there would be an emergency response, the _Maxa_would cease its flight, and Aloise's vacation with his friends was effectively over. Fucking fuck.

He gave an agitated sigh, raising his hands. "We surrender."

Pik gawked. "WE DO!?"

"Just shut up and do it."

Zetsu stared, in disbelief. "But. . . this is not a heroic thing. . . or. . . perhaps. . . I. . ."

Aloise rolled his eyes. "Zetsu, I will actually wrap my tongue around your cock if you don't get us killed. Just. Do. It."

". . .oh."

Zetsu surrendered.

Satisfied, Varyd and his entourage strode forward, shackling the trio and removing their (visible) weapons. As they did, the commander waltzed passed them, making a face at the visible gore, pushing against the massive double doors.

"I hope you like parties," he said, voice grim and sullen.