Who Said you could Enter my Private Space!?

With their new mission, the two teams were ejected from the city into the surrounding wasteland. No army, no camp, no supplies. The gates were never going to let them back in. Fuuma was ready to pull his hair out. 

“How could this happen!?” he screamed. “How did I go from top hero to an outcast in 24 hours!?”

“Well, I suppose we can look around,” Dige nodded. “Team, let’s split up and look for demon generals.”

“Hell no,” said Mars.

Artemis agreed. “Do you know what one even looks like?”

“Grah! It’s your fault!” Fuuma screeched. “You’re the ones who caused all of this! You wanna find that general, then leave me out of it!”

Thus, with a turn and a huff, the young boy turned his back on Dige and marched off into his part of the mountains. Dige watched him and his party leave, wondering, contemplating. Wow, the thought. What did he do to make him so mad?

The three set up camp at a small pond further up the mountain. The blue water shimmered in the moonlight, and the scant greenery huddled around the flat land like an oasis. They could view most of Fargo from above and plan their search from the vantage point.

Once emotions cooled down, Kuroni turned to speak to her master. Her mannerisms were refined and made with utmost politeness. It was unusual for her to give advice to her superior, as was custom for her and Tama, but she felt his spirits needed to be lifted.

“If I may, master,” said Kuroni. “Tama and I will be able to scope out the area much faster on our own. We have the speed and stealth to catch any shady characters in these wastes.”

Fuuma turned to her, looking at her like a lost puppy. She couldn't help but feel sympathy.

“You don't want me around? Won’t it be dangerous out here?”

“We’re more than capable of staying out of danger, master.” She reached from behind her and pulled out her rifle with the clip missing. “Besides, we’ve been low on ammunition for some time. Now may be a good time to work in your sphere? Tama?”

The younger sibling was less pleased to give up her weapon. She had grown quite attached to it over time, but she was more than willing to hand it over to Kuroni. Not to Fuuma, though. The thought of touching him offended her for some reason. She would look away if she came too close. Kuroni presented them with both hands.

"We trust that you'll bring these back better than ever. Will you do that for us, master?"

In a heartbeat, Fuuma took them with excitement. He had been playing general for so long, he had forgotten what his true passion was, and if he had a whole week to himself, who knows what he could conjure? Finally, it was time for a hobby vacation.

With weapons in tow, he lifted his hand to form a portal in front of him, one large enough for him to step through. The girls couldn’t see much through it. It was all hidden behind an obnoxious white light, but it looked clean and metallic. 

Fuuma took a step in and turned around. “Alright, I’ll leave it up to you. Stay safe out there.”

“Yes, master,” Kuroni saluted. "But please, come out to eat at least once a day."

"Uh, fine, okay." He suddenly had to think about grooming. "I'll see you tomorrow."

The two nodded and left Fuuma to his privacy. The hero turned to enter his private domain when, out of nowhere, a dense ball of chainmail tackled him into the white light, the portal dissipating behind them.

Dige found himself in a peculiar place. The room was well-lit and bright with white fluorescent light, though there was no light source to be found. The floors were tiled and sterile with no signs of wear and tear, and the space was filled with many tables that held their own special projects and materials related to them. It was neat, meticulous, and very interesting to the dwarf, but his attention was focused on the angry 14-year-old with a gun pointed at him.

“What the hell are you doing!?” Fuuma asked.

“I get asked that a lot.”

“How are you even in here!? This is my personal space! No one else should be able to get in here.”

“Well, I did."

It took a moment for Dige to speak further. Fuuma could tell he was angry about something, and reflecting on it, why was he? Was it because of all the insults he hurled at him? It was hard to say, but now he was so distracted and curious that his anger dissipated. His eyes kept glancing around the room. Eventually, he spoke.

“I’m sorry, lad. Is this a workshop?”

“That’s not important! Get out of my space!” Fuuma ordered the portal to open and kicked him with all his might, but he didn't budge. “I said, get out!”

Fuuma fired his pistol, but the projectile, a beam capable of melting steel, did nothing but burn Dige's clothes like a matchstick. Finally, the dwarf took notice and didn’t appreciate the wear on his wears. He unholstered his hammer, ready for vengeance.

“Wait, wait, wait, don’t hurt me! I’m sorry!” Fuuma flailed. “Kuroni, Tama! Please help me!”

Dige stepped forward with a stomp. “You’ve got a lot of nerve, boy. First, you abandon a fight. Then you insult me, and now you try to kill me. How far are you willing to go with this?”

“A-Aren’t you here to kill me too?”

“Aye.”

Fuuma didn’t like that answer. 

“But, erm, I wanted to ask about this shooter here.” 

The dwarf pulled one of the rifles lying about on the table. It was an old rifle, not very advanced and pitiful compared to the railgun on Fuuma’s back, but a weapon nonetheless.

It was strange, though, Fuuma thought. He should be able to tell what it was immediately. “That’s a Kalashnikov. It’s an old rifle from the Cold War. You’ve never seen it in movies before?”

"Movies?"

Fuuma adjusted his glasses. That's right! He may be a hero, but he’s not from Earth. He was talking to a dwarf from another world. It was like talking to a Glynn native, but even more foreign.

“Either way, it’s not that powerful. Not compared to what I’ve cooked up. You can keep it if you want to.”

But the boy should’ve chosen his words more wisely, as Dige dropped everything to inspect, tinker, and ultimately disassemble the rifle right before Fuuma’s eyes. The dwarf’s eyes were glistening like diamonds, inspecting every piece of it, from the recoil spring underneath the dust cover to the gas piston toward the front, and all throughout the chamber and down the barrel, meticulously feeling out the metal and its making with such love, Fuuma couldn’t help but chuckle to himself, although nervously. It was a familiar, if uncomfortable, visage he was spying.

“How was this made!?” Dige pressed, drool spraying from his gullet. “I have to know how you did this!”

“What? Why do you care about something like that?” Fuuma brandished his pistol. “This is way cooler, don’t you think?”

“That toy? Eww.”

“What?” That’s right. The beam did nothing to him. Does not compute. While the dwarf was distracted, he picked up a classic revolver that he put together as well. “How about this?”

Fuuma fired, expecting the bullet to do less damage than the laser, but he ended up putting a hole straight between Dige’s eyes, splattering the white tile red. Once again, the dwarf was dead.