//------------------------------// // Villain's Wild // Story: A Passing Through Kamen Rider // by thunderclap //------------------------------// A robed figure walked along a long wasteland, sheer cliffs before him. It had been a long time since he had been to the dragonlands. He wondered if his face would be recognized there or if it had been forgotten to the sands of time. While some part of him wished to test that, secrecy was his friend at the moment. Ah, but that was a futile wish. His form was but a flicker of the inferno it had once been. Not that it mattered. His only role now was to usher in the correct future. All he needed was to continue pressing forward. He was close to a solution, he knew it. His attention shifted, drawn by a cry of desperation. Peering around a corner his eyes almost sparkled. An older mare and a drake, locked in argument. Opportunity always presented itself to those worthy of it. He sidled closer, taking a spot by a rocky outcropping to listen in on what was being said. He grinned upon getting a better look at the drake. Young, healthy, clearly strong and very clearly full of rage and untempered emotions. “Fireheart, please. I-” “STOP CALLING ME THAT!” "Fine," the mare said, letting out a deep exhale. "I know you want nothing to do with me, but at least hear me out." Leaning down, the drake snorted a cloud of smog in her face. “Stop. Talking. To. Me.” The mare stood, not reacting at all to the smog. "Please, I never wanted this. I was young and stupid. I should never have let you go. Even if it meant my family dis-” She held back a cry as the drake shoved her to the ground. “I said, stop talking to me!” The mare's shoulders sagged as she slowly stood up. "I understand, you have every right to hate me." With a heavy gait, she began her trek back towards the wasteland. "Goodbye, Fireheart." The old dragon clicked his tongue, making his presence known to the drake. “It’s quite something for a drake to have pony blood.” "Who said I have pony blood?!" The drake snapped, his anger fully directed at the old dragon now. "Say that again and I'll pull your wings off ya dusty bastard!" “Your anger betrays the truth,” the old dragon said, grinning under his hood. “You must feel quite inadequate. Not only to have a weaker blood, but to be cast out by that pony.” "Are you calling me weak?" The drake snorted, cracking his red knuckles. "Must've gone senile in your old age. Don't worry, I'll beat some sense back into you." Holding a hand up, the old dragon waved off the drake’s hostility. “Calm yourself, calm yourself. Think before you act. What would you do, child, if you had a way to ensure no other dragons would suffer equine blood? To show those who cast you aside like dirt that you are worth more than they can imagine?" The drake grinned, nodding along to the dragon's words. "Helping others sounds lame, but the other thing you said sounds really appealing. What're you getting at old scales?" Reaching into his robes, the older dragon held out a hand. On it rested several purple coins. “Tell me, do you know the tale of Dragon Lord Kalameet? Whose power blotted out the sun for a whole day.” "Yeah, I've heard the stories. It's why I was told to give old scales Smaug his space. He was involved with Kalameet."   Tossing a coin in the air, the old dragon caught it with a flourish. “And what if I told you these coins contained his power? The power to take the bloodstone sceptre for yourself? What would you do then, hm?” "Take the sceptre, duh," the drake said, grinning. "Then maybe order all dragons to make Equestria just a little bit hotter."  Holding out the coins again, the elder dragon smiled. “Then by all means, take them. Show the world how a true dragon should live their life. Show them just how abhorrent it is to mix blood.” Eyeing the elderly dragon up and down, the drake swiped the coins off his palm. “These better work, old man. Or I’ll-” Pain. That was all his world became. The coins sank into his flesh, latching onto his very being. Purple and black armor sprouted from his scales, arcing with power. His body went limp, almost as if he was being held up by invisible marionette strings.  His torso shifted, a bud growing from the base of his neck. Rising up, it soon took shape; that of an armored dragon's head. Its eyes glowed a malevolent purple, sneering out at the elderly dragon. The drake panted, the growth slowing down. Bowing his head, the old dragon wore a pleased expression. “Thus, Kalameet the Terrible is reborn. And lo, dragonkind's destiny is corrected, unto the path it was meant to walk.” He straightened up, beckoning the duo forward. “Now then, let us find the rest of you.” The mare watched from her hiding place, tears streaming down her face. It seemed her children continued to suffer her mistakes.  Pinkamena hummed to herself as she walked down the stairs to her basement. It had been a while since she had paid her guest a visit. She could only hope he wasn't too uncomfortable. Not yet anyway. Her basement was dark and damp, just the style she was going for. Most of the walls bore shelves and cabinets, each containing some form of implement. Each lovingly cared for and maintained. Pinkamenia couldn't have her favorite toys breaking now could she? “How are we feeling today, pops?” Her hooves clacked against the unfinished stone floor, giving each of her steps an ominous presence.  "Thou art not my daughter," Feldspar retorted, not looking up from the corner he was shackled to. Unsheathing her knife, she tested its weight. Perfectly balanced just for her use. Bringing her arm back, she hurled it at him. She pouted as the dagger only barely cut along the side of his head and let out a thunk as the tip embedded itself into the wall next to him.   "Is that meant to intimidate me?" Feldspar asked, blood trickling down his cheek. “Thy method is childish and thy aim sloppy.” "Silly daddy, if I had wanted that to hit you I would've. Just killing you isn't any fun." Pinkamena hummed to herself, considering her next action. She'd need to think carefully, her prey was as resilient as the rocks he farmed. Plus, this was personal, something to be savored. "I was a bit surprised when I found out you became a Rider. You never offered to help with Maud's research on my world." “Then he was a poor father.” Feldspar watched her, noting every movement and expression.  She clapped her hands together, cackling for a moment. "Amazing, we actually agree about something for once." Looking at her selection of tools. Reaching down she selected what looked like normal acupuncture needles. Sticking one to his forehead, she continued, "I guess we should watch out for flying pigs." “And what means of torture dost thou hath planned?” he asked, glancing up at the needle. "Oh, this one is really quite interesting," Pinkamena replied, putting in another needle. "Traditional acupuncture is meant to relax the body and all that jazz. So with a bit of research and experimentation I've developed a version that causes all kinds of nasty effects. And without any of the mess of traditional torture." Feldspar snorted, whickering softly. “I expected something more creative. Perhaps thou art a dullard?” "There's the daddy I remember," Pinkamena deadpanned, putting a needle near his navel. "Always putting down my efforts; never being able to please you. All you missed there was an exasperated comparison to one of my sisters." She stuck in another needle and gave it a twist. "You wouldn't believe how many years I wasted seeking your validation." "For all thy machinations, thou art still a scared child," Feldspar noted, ignoring the pain starting to well up within him. “A child blindly lashing out at those around them.” Pinkamena's eyes flashed, fury overtaking her for a brief moment. Collecting herself, her manic mask slipped back on. "Quite the analysis for a rock farmer. Did you go to college for that? Of course not, modern niceties are bad, right?” Feldspar held back a nod, the pieces slowly coming together. "A father needs no degree to see what hurts his daughter. And I never stopped Maud from pursuing higher learning, or thy counterpart's party endeavors." He hung his head, sighing. "I only wish I could've done the same for thee." Pulling her dagger from the wall, she pressed the flat of the blade against his neck. “Aw, aren’t you the doting father? Maybe you can pay me back? I won’t charge much. A pint of blood or two at most might do.” "I fear not thy threats. Do what thou wilt to me." “Oh, I w-” Her basement door opened. Or rather crashed open. Spinning around, she brandished her blade at those who would dare intrude. Her face contorted, two of Midnight’s cheerleaders descending into view. “Good, we got here before you took his eye out or something.” Lemon pushed past Pinkamena, already working on Feldspar’s restraints. “But did you have to cover him in these stupid needles?” "And why are you here to interrupt my fun?" Pinkamena snorted, pointing her dagger between the two intruders. "Better answer before I add your hands to my pickled limbs collection ya science fair project." “Put it back in your pants.” Indigo got into Pinkamena’s face, their noses almost touching. “The head honcho doesn’t think you're makin’ good enough progress. We’re taking the old man to Midnight.” "And do you have his orders with you?" The pink mare inquired, sheathing her dagger. "Because I wouldn't put it past your boss to try and just take him for an experiment." She clicked her tongue, her thoughts turning to her leader. It didn't sound too far fetched, Somber had a soft spot for Midnight and everyone could see it. No matter how loyal one was, everyone took a back seat to the recluse.  "You know what, forget it, just take him," Pinkamena concluded, waving her hand. "If this really is from the boss then delaying you will just annoy him." She seethed, grinding her teeth. Pulling back, Indigo stepped around Pinkamena. “That’s what I thought.” Shouldering Feldspar, she and Lemon began to carry him upstairs. A moment of debate passed before Pinkamena spoke again. “Holder’s boulder.”  Indigo looked over her shoulder, quirking a brow at the mare. “Holder’s what-now?” “Holder’s boulder. That’s where the belt has to be,” Pinkamena clarified. “It’s in plain sight of the Pie family, and everyone would just think its just a big dumb rock.” "And you've just now thought of this?" Indigo scoffed, turning around again. "How long have you been sitting on that? That might be grounds for insubordination." Lemon sighed, shifting Feldspar’s weight. “She’s not worth it, Zap. Let her put the lotion on by herself. Boss lady wants this guy asap.” Indigo nodded, brushing her bangs back into place. Summoning a portal, she exited the basement with Lemon and Feldspar in tow. Pinkamena’s rage boiled out, a tide of red washing away her thoughts. When she faded into reality, her playroom was a mess. Tools were everywhere, shelves were smashed. And her precious Iron Maiden had been torn off its hinges. Oh, she’d make that purple bitch pay. She'd stake her life on it. Daguva stared down at the quarry that made up the rock farm he was told about. He scanned the area, seeing a distant speck that he suspected was his target. For so long he had searched for his belt. And to think, it was kept out in the open on a simple farm all this time. The night masked his approach, a nice blue outfit obscuring his outline. Each step came quicker than the next, his body drawn towards his belt like the pole of a magnet toward its opposite. For the first time in a long time, Daguva smiled. Kuuga was awake and now he'd return to his former glory. Nothing could make this a more perfect night. The boulder towered over him, reminding him of just how much stature he had lost. Lifting his arm, he surveyed the strange device Midnight had gifted him. Something to offset his diminished strength. Drawing his hand back, he waited for the odd gauntlet to chirp before slamming his fist into the rock. A satisfying crash of metal on stone filled the air as parts of the boulder fell away. Daguva repeated the process, seeing part of his belt poking out from the boulder.  A final strike freed his prize from its tomb. It also alerted him that his time was up. A  furious shout broke the silence of the night. A guardian crying out for his blood. Stepping forward, a portal appeared before him taking him away with his belt slung over his shoulder.  The cityscape was a picture of faded glory. Houses were built in such a way that some of them screamed that the residents had tons of money while others practically leaning against them were little better than hovels. Even the grand mansion-like houses had signs of decay or a lack of proper upkeep to them, and almost half of the city was nearly a mile away from the rest. An earthquake, at some point, had split the city in two, dividing 0the residents, and destroying some structures as it raised and moved a portion of the plateau away from the rest. This was of little consequence to the main residents of Griffonstone, due to their ability to just fly up or down and over the huge crack in the stone… but it was a roadblock for Blud’s mission. Using his magic to accomplish the task would blow his cover. The lie he had come up with was that he was an adolescent minotaur traveling in search of glory and treasure. So, he would need to go about things the hard way. “Hey, you gonna stare at the wall all day or do you want a lift?” The griffon he’d run into earlier elbowed his leg while looking up at him. “It’ll cost you a few coins, but I can guarantee the ride’s safe enough.” Blud considered his options for a moment before reaching into his armor and giving the griffon five coins. "You'll get five more when I'm safely on the other side." Her eyes sparkled briefly, but she handed back four of the coins with a shake of her head. “Save those for the taxi service, but I’ll be happy to guide you there for one and help translate with any griffons that don’t know Wyvernspur’s trade language.” She quickly dropped the one coin into a pouch around her neck before turning and walking into an alleyway that looked like a solid wall until she started walking in. "Hmm, clever," Blud commented, admiring the design and following after her. "Say miss, care to be my guide while I'm in town? There'll be more coins in it for you. Not many griffons would turn down what I just gave you. Especially when they had every means to just run off with it." “Not many griffons have as much integrity as I do, and I know charging you five bits just to get you there is ripping you off. Name’s Gilda, by the way.” She only turned her head while talking, and kept one eye forward at all times. “Let’s see, I kinda know most of the other side of town, but it’s not perfect, especially if you’re using outdated reference points. How about we go with the ‘pay what you feel it’s worth’ system? I don’t know what you’re looking for, and you don’t know what I don’t know.” Blud chuckled, enjoying this griffon's moxie. It was rare that he ran into someone that reminded him of himself. He almost wished he could keep her as a constant travel companion. "You can call me Bronze Soul, Gilda." “If your soul’s bronze, why’s your outfit red?” She chuckled at her own joke as she turned left onto what passed for the main road here. “Sorry, bit of a dorky joke, but Grandpa Gruff would have liked it. Bright yellow building...there it is. New business, still bright and shiny. We haven’t had many outside visitors except for the last couple decades of diplomacy and trade with the weirdos.” "No need to apologize for the joke, I've heard far worse from an associate of mine," Blud said with the wave of a hand. And who are these weirdos you spoke of?" “You know, the bugs and hybrids. Wyvernspur’s Weirdos.” Gilda paused and looked up at him with a puzzled expression. “How come you know their language without having a...oh, right, you wouldn’t consider them weird since you’re more familiar.” She nodded, seemingly satisfied with her reasoning before she called out in a series of chirps and whistling sounds as they approached the yellow structure. Another griffon poked their head out and looked at the two of them before pointing at what could only be a pricing sign. Gilda facepalmed in response, and shook her head before looking back at Blud. “Diplomacy, trade, or other? He wants to know how much to charge you. I’m guessing ‘other’ since you didn’t come with any trade goods and you haven’t acted like a stuck-up prick.” "Yes, other sounds about right. And you're right, I'm not stuck up. I'm just the normal kind of prick," he joked, nudging her since she couldn't see his grin. The talk between Gilda and this other griffon took less than a minute, and Blud ended up only being charged three bits before being led to a tall, thin metal carriage that sat among many other, similar-looking conveyances of varying sizes. A few more chirps were exchanged before the other griffon hopped up on top of it and began to strap three of his legs into some sort of harness. “Alright, room for one being of your size and shape in there, and it’s one of the lighter models. He’s gonna carry you up. It’ll take a bit, but if anything goes wrong he’s in as much danger as you are.” Gilda sat down with one hand extended towards the ‘taxi.’ "Somehow that doesn't inspire much confidence," Blud commented, taking a seat. "But, beggars can't be choosers." The seat and ride was fairly comfortable, and quite short with only a single event of mild shaking accompanied by a loud gust of wind. While shaking, a force held Blud secure and kept him from being rattled around against the sides. Only a slight jostling and the sight of a clear landing area through the small viewing window told him he was safe to exit, and he saw Gilda land in the middle of the area shortly after everything went still. Stepping out of the taxi, he looked down at Gilda. "Remind me to be a creature with wings in my next life." “For convenience or because of the updraft? Gotta warn you, wings don’t help with the second one. That was a hard gust.” Gilda brushed her talons through her feathers to smooth out some of them, then shook her head while walking out of the landing zone. “So, now that we’re up here, mind telling me what you’re looking for in the upper district? You know, so I can guide you there?” "Something old that was given to the griffons back when they still had a king. Should look like a mechanical bea-" “Woah woah woah, hold on. Are you talking about the Golden Orthos?” Gilda spun around in place and came to a stop in the middle of the street while looking up at Blud. “I mean, if you are I have some bad news for you.” "What's that?" he inquired, tilting his head. “You know that huge gorge you just flew over? That’s where the palace is now. At the bottom, in a huge pile of rubble. Supposedly the Golden Orthos used to be this big statue in the plaza right outside, a show of how mighty griffons were to have been able to intimidate the other races into giving us the most valuable of the beasts. It’s gone. Nothing can get down that gorge safely with all the winds.” Blud put a hand to his chin, thinking carefully. Getting to the bottom of the gorge would be simple enough with a rift, but he'd need to be alone. Seemed this was a successful enough scouting attempt. Now to sell it. "Well, bound to be some treasures that can't be reached. Maybe I'll try a Mareyan temple next." “Yeah, well, good luck with that. Whoever told you that thing was just some treasure to find has a few screws loose though. Listening to Grandpa Gruff talk about it, the thing was bigger than every house but the palace here. Pretty sure he’s just senile and confused, but, yeah, too big to be treasure for one person.” Blud grinned to himself, reaching into his armor and pulling out a couple bits. "Then it's for the best I came up short. Here, take this for the info. I appreciated your company." Gilda paused for a few seconds, then nodded and carefully took the coins. “If nothing else, I saved you a bunch of time pointlessly wandering around looking for something that’s long gone.” She shook her head once more before turning and walking away. “Better luck with your next hunt, Bronze.” Blud waved, letting Gilda get out of sight. Finding a secluded place, he summoned a rift to where he had left Rippersnapper. Stepping through, he brushed the dust off his armor. “Your comrade is in the gorge. You won’t have to worry about anyone getting in your way. Updrafts make it impossible for locals to get near him.” “No locals means no fun!” Blot growled, and then slammed a fist against the wall of the cavern. “No fun means nobody running or flying away to rat us out and no protracted battles that could drain us too much to rescue Sinnertwin. Better for us to stay unnoticed for now, Blot.” Rippersnapper crouched and lowered himself down to pick Blud up and bring him to eye level. “You said in the gorge. Anything more specific than that or is that all anyone up there knows?” "Yes, in the ruins of what was once the palace," Blud answered. "Once we get there I should be able to get us close to him. Erosion might have shifted him a bit." “Not necessary. You can stay here, or go somewhere else. Blot and I will be able to dig or melt our way there and through the rubble faster without worrying about crushing you by accident. Well, Blot wouldn’t worry, and he’d laugh about it. We still need you so we can have a distraction for Cutthroat’s rescue. Once Sinnertwin’s up and repaired, though, the three of us should be able to rescue our old leader on our own.” Acting as if tipping his hat, Blud bowed his head. “Then I shall move on to our next target. I’ll relay any useful information to you as I find it.” “We know the NEXT target. Dragons, volcanoes, big cave and old foes. What we need is something big enough to distract an entire city of undying organics. An army, or something close to it.” Clicking his tongue, he held back a biting retort. If they wanted to go in blind, that was on them. Besides, he was overdue for updating Somber on his progress. "An army I can do," he assured. "I'll get to that once you set off for the palace." Bowing, he flourished his cape and vanished from Rippersnapper’s hand. A silent figure watched the mechanical titans, making their leave long before the pair departed. Gilda watched the other griffons, a platoon of them lined up and running drills. She never thought she'd see the day that Griffonstone would be organized. But ever since the guy with the creepy mask showed up things had been getting more intense.  All this talk about war with the ponies. She thought it would fall apart in a week or two but it didn’t. More and more griffons flocked to their newfound cause.  This was bad, she had spent time with ponies, knew a lot about them. Sure, on most days they were pansies; more likely to bake a cake for an enemy than start a fight. But in an actual war? That would be a different story. Pegasi could control the weather, an ability that griffons sorely lacked despite the fact that they shared the ability to walk on clouds. And then there were the unicorns and their magic. Griffons had no way to counter that. This was a conflict they couldn't win, and she had a feeling their "benefactor" knew that. She had tried talking to Grandpa Gruff about her suspicions, but the old griff had bought into the rhetoric hook, line and sinker. He wouldn't stop going on about griffons returning to their former glory. And she had to be careful who else she told, there were eyes and ears everywhere lately.  This wasn't something she could handle on her own, not with Gruff on board with the insanity. The writing was on the wall, the invasion plan was going to happen.  Clicking her beak, Gilda slipped out of her house. A plan formed in her head. She’d just grab Gallus and Gabby and book it for the train station. Gabby would be easy to convince, she was agreeable enough. Gallus might be the issue. Even though he was an orphan, he was stubborn and might not want to leave. That would be a bridge she'd cross when she got there; at the moment she decided to simply fly off and prepare for her leave by nightfall. She packed light, taking only the bare essentials. Throwing on her pack, she went to find Gabby. As Gilda thought, Gabby was easy to convince. With hurried efforts, the pair packed the younger griffon's bag for the trip. Even taking what extra supplies for Gallus that they could spare. “Go to the gates, okay?” Gilda said, looking into Gabby’s eyes. “Don’t let anyone see you.” Gabby nodded, glancing at the gates. "I always wanted to get out of Griffonstone, guess this is my chance." She slunk off, clinging to the shadows and staying out of sight. Gilda smiled, watching Gabby move out of sight. Now came the hard part, finding and convincing Gallus to come with her. Slipping out of Gabby’s house, she made her way towards Gruff’s home. That was where the young blue griffon was the most so she could only hope that she'd get lucky.  Gilda had to thank whatever deity that was listening because she found him leaning on one of the walls. “Gallus,” she hissed, yanking on his arm. “Come on. We have to get out of here.” Gallus wrenched his arm free, shooting her an annoyed look. "What're you talking about, Gilda? Is this one of your lame pranks?" "In case you haven't noticed, this war stuff is getting nuts," Gilda retorted, crossing her arms over her chest. "We need to leave before that masked guy gets us all killed." Grabbing his arm again, she pulled him towards her. “Now come on.” "And where are we gonna even go?" Gallus questioned. "Do you have an idea or are we just running in a vague direction?" Despite his nitpicking, he was letting Gilda direct him. “We’re going to Equestria,” she said, slipping into a back alley. “Just shut your trap and follow me. Got it?” Gallus snorted, but kept quiet. The pair worked their way through the back alleys, silently slinking to the gates where Gabby was waiting. Their journey took them past the home that the masked man had taken up residence in. Gilda stopped, compelled by some force to take a peek. "Gallus, keep going to the gate. Gabby's waiting there. If I'm not there in twenty minutes, book it without me." She gave him her backpack and pushed him to go. “Get your tails to Ponyville and tell Rainbow Dash everything.”  "And how are we supposed to find one pony out of a whole town?" Gallus whispered, slipping on the pack. "It's not like they wear name tags." "She'll be the one that has a literal rainbow mane," Gilda deadpanned. “Now go!” she hissed, giving him a rough shove. “I’ll be right behind you.” Gallus huffed, running off into the night. Gilda sighed in relief, peering into the window of the masked man's hideaway. She knew it was a big risk, but the bastard had to be hiding something. Easing the window open, she slipped inside. Most of the dust that clung tightly to all the surfaces of Griffonstone was gone, something Gilda didn’t even think was possible. The only notable sight upon her entry was a banner on the wall, one depicting a two headed eagle.  Raising an eyebrow, Gilda began to creep further into the home. The layout of homes were fairly uniform in Griffonstone, so she had an idea of where rooms were. Her best bet to avoid being caught was to avoid the bedrooms upstairs. Hopefully there was something downstairs she could use to incriminate him. Creeping silently, Gilda moved towards the sitting room. The room was dominated by a large table, various bits of parchment and maps scattered along its surface. In the corners of the room were bookshelves filled to capacity. Clicking her beak, she figured she had ten minutes to search the room and still make it back to Gallus and Gabby in time. She started with the table, figuring that it would be easier with less space to cover. “Okay, what are you hiding?” She scanned the surface, riffling through anything that looked important. Most of what she saw pertained to battle plans and the invasion. That might be useful for the ponies to know, but it wasn't exactly what she was looking for. Shoving them into her pockets, Gilda moved onto the nearby desk.  She grunted, seeing more of the same at first. Opening the drawer, her claw brushed against something odd. Inspecting it further, it seemed like a panel that could be lifted away. Peeling the panel away with her claws, she found what was hidden beneath it. Vials with some kind of liquid along with a note. On it were instructions on using the griffons as some sort of experiment if the invasion didn't pan out. Clicking her beak, Gilda pocketed both the vials and the note. Closing the drawer, she retreated through the window. Closing it, she hurried through the streets of Griffonstone. This was it. Everything came down to her getting the hell out of the city. The gates loomed in the distance, growing larger by the moment. Eventually, she made it through,  finding Gabby and Gallus's hiding spot. "Alright time to go, but no flying until Griffonstone's out of sight," Gilda said. “Just stay down and don’t make yourself a target.” Gabby saluted, following behind Gilda as they began their trek. The light glared off Finster 5’s visor like a beacon, his hands moving with purpose. Slotting the last piece, he stepped back to study his work. “My lord,” he spoke, deciding it met his standards. “The amplifier is complete.” Drakkon looked down from his throne, his helmet hiding any hint of a reaction. "Good work, Finster. How long until we can put the amplifier to use?" Taking his place by his master’s throne, Finster clasped his hands behind his back. “Whenever you wish, my lord. It should boost the power of your spell, and obscure your identity. As you requested.” Drakkon rose from his throne, his eyes set on the amplifier. "Then there's no time like the present." Raising an arm, arcane energy crackled around him. “Raza weha tigo zalat. Qua doq galof.” Flowing into the amplifier, the magic brought the machine to life. Its top half spun, a pair of emitters soaking in the spell. They released the captured essence, forming it into a basketball sized orb of white light. Satisfied with his work, Drakkon cut the flow of his magic and let the machine run on its own. "Good craftsmanship as always, Finster," he noted, returning to his throne. He held a hand up to silence the room, a familiar silhouette appearing in the orb. A shrill voice came from the globe, the words dripping with arrogance and indigance. “Who dares to intrude on the Empress of Evil?” "Someone who doesn't get bested by a handful of teenagers," Drakkon retorted, not even flinching from the sonic assault that was the witch's voice. "I offer you my aid in getting rid of them.” "What could you possibly offer me?!" Rita questioned, her face growing within the globe. "You impose upon my palace, daring to speak to me? Impudent cretin. I should cast you into oblivion.” Drakkon drummed his fingers on his throne, not rising to her bait. "And your magic doesn’t seem to hold a candle to the rangers. You couldn’t even keep control of the one you created.” Rita glared from within the globe, taking a step back. "You seem to know a lot for a pest. So, why have you contacted me?" “Because we can benefit each other quite nicely. There’s even still a use for your traitorous green ranger.” This caught the witch's attention, a wicked grin splitting her face. "Oho, really? Do go on." “You have a crystal, a green one, buried deep in your castle. It’s powered by the same energies of your green ranger.” Ah, he had her now. Offer a sliver of a solution and they’d leap right on it. “That is the key to your victory.” "A crystal in my castle?" Rita questioned, some disbelief in her voice. "I'll have Goldar  begin looking for that. This better pan out." With that, Rita forced the globe to turn off. Drakkon relaxed on his throne, turning his head to Finster 5. "And now all we need do is wait. Rita took the bait even easier than you predicted." Beneath his helmet Drakkon sported a sinister grin. Soon, there wouldn't be a Ranger team in any world that wouldn't know his name. Somber seethed in his personal chambers, recent events at the forefront of his mind. Wyatt’s ragamuffin ascended to an alicorn. Not only that, but she had gained some strange draconic power. Then there was Wyatt. He had gained cards that he was never meant to have.  Somber grit his teeth, a roar of blind rage escaped his throat. His fist flew towards the nearest wall, shattering stone and crystal in a clean swing. "Years of planning! I will not let some upstart Void Dweller undo my work!" His desk was next, splintering into pieces against the floor. “Why is everyone in this miserable organization incompetent!?” Dai-Shocker was down four generals. Four leaderless branches with barely any candidates for replacement.  Dark magic poured from Somber's body, rolling off him like a poison cloud. A crystal spire erupted from the floor, spearing his bed to the ceiling. Noting that there was nothing left to smash, his mind settled slightly. "The only bright spot in all this mess is Blud's mission being a success so far. That and despite his unwanted cards, Wyatt is growing stronger." Adjusting his armor, Somber composed himself. "The plan can be adjusted. And the generals are of little consequence so long as Wyatt just plays part." Breathing in hot, short bursts, Sombra stepped over to his mirror. Snorting, he began to make himself presentable. Movement caught his attention; razor sharp loathing building in his chest. Shining Armor smirked back at him, amused at his fury.  A primal scream of rage shook the crystal palace, purple crystals erupting from its side like a tumorous growth. Black magic arced over it, crackling through the air like lightning.  When the room settled, Somber was seething. His body was coiled up like a snake ready to strike. With one last grunt, he left the pile of rubble that was once his bedroom.   "Someone find me an architect," he stated, his tone even again. "The palace needs some remodeling."