It was morning at Hexfest. Which, at a cursed carnival, meant the sun rose in reverse, a rooster screamed in Latin, and someone's tent turned into a frog.

  Inside the Spellvan 9000, Walter the White sat at the table drinking an herbal concoction known as Hangover Hex-Off Tea. He had invented it last night after his 17th customer paid him in a cursed kazoo and a whispered threat.

  Across from him sat Heisenbones, now officially the mayor of a gremlin neighborhood. He wore a plastic crown and a sash that read: "MOST BONE."

  Linda burst into the van, slamming a parchment onto the table.

  "WALTER. You're on a bounty list."

  Walter blinked. "Is it laminated?"

  "YES."

  He looked down. There it was—his face printed in enchanted ink, looking unreasonably smug for someone who once exploded a tea kettle by sneezing.

  Wanted: Walter the WhiteFor: Illegal alchemy, mass enchantment fraud, public potion intoxication, creation of a cotton candy-based disaster entity, and tax evasion via skeleton loophole.Reward: 1,000,000 Arkanas and two coupons to The Council's All-You-Can-Crystal Buffet.Status: Extremely Wanted. Like, disturbingly so.

  Underneath his name was a sketch of Heisenbones with a caption:

  "Sidekick (suspiciously undead). Reassemble with caution."

  Heisenbones sipped coffee through his empty eye socket.

  Enter: The Bounty Hunter With Style Issues

  Outside, an ominous theme song played from thin air as the mysterious bounty hunter stepped into the carnival's center square. Townsfolk stared. Clowns fled. A single balloon popped in fear.

  They introduced themselves by throwing a business card enchanted with exploding glitter.

  Name: Sir Balthazar Vex, Bounty Hunter ExtraordinaireSpecialties: Magical Assassination, Potion Disarmament, Beard MaintenanceFun Fact: Once beat a vampire with a baguette.

  "I seek Walter the White, the potion pariah, the alchemical anarchist, the—"

  Stolen content alert: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.

  "JUST SAY HIS NAME, YOU DRAMATIC TOMATO!" someone from the crowd yelled.

  Balthazar cleared his throat. "Walter. Prepare to be... slightly inconvenienced, then detained violently."

  Meanwhile in the Van: Tactical Panic

  Walter stared at the bounty notice while Linda locked the van doors and Heisenbones began packing "emergency snacks," which were mostly croutons and a jar labeled DO NOT OPEN UNTIL PANIC.

  Linda turned to Walter. "This is what happens when you enchant 200 people at once with a love potion, fake an immortality elixir, and sell a potion that made a kid grow wings made of soup."

  Walter waved dismissively. "All of those were bold business moves."

  Heisenbones raised a hand. "Also, you accidentally hexed the mayor of Moon 3 into thinking he was a mop."

  Walter frowned. "Still cleaner than the last one."

  The van rocked as a chain of magical force wrapped around it from the outside.

  Balthazar's voice rang out. "WALTER. COME OUT AND FACE JUSTICE! Or... wait, is this the coffee van? Is this a food truck? Hello?"

  Linda grinned. "Plan?"

  Walter pulled a lever that opened the van's floor hatch. "Classic distraction and flee strategy."

  "Don't we usually blow something up first?"

  "Good point."

  He snapped his fingers. The espresso machine exploded. Again.

  Fleeing the Scene (With Flair)

  The trio dove through the trapdoor, landing in a tunnel system they had accidentally dug last week while trying to invent underground cheese.

  Above them, Balthazar stormed the van, kicking open the doors with a flourish.

  Only to find… a boiling cauldron full of glitter and a note that said:

  "Nice try. Try harder. Also, you now smell like regret and garlic. — Walter"

  The van began belting out jazz music and self-drove off a cliff, shouting, "TO FREEDOM!"

  In the Tunnels: Schemes & Cheese

  Walter lit a glow-crystal. "Alright, new base of operations: Tunnel Town."

  Linda scowled. "Tunnel Town is just a hole, Walter."

  Heisenbones was already setting up chairs. "It has character. And mold. Mostly mold."

  Walter drew a chalk diagram on the wall. "If the bounty hunter found us this fast, then the Council must be using a ScryNet beacon. That means we're being tracked by alchemic signature."

  Linda leaned in. "So we mask the signature?"

  Heisenbones raised a bone hand. "Or we reverse it—send it to someone else."

  Walter smiled like a man who'd just remembered he owns a jar of concentrated inconvenience.

  "Let's frame someone. Someone terrible. Someone already wanted by the Magic Council."

  Linda's eyes lit up. "You don't mean…"

  Walter nodded. "Yes. We blame... Gregory the Enchanter."

  All three shuddered.

  "Wasn't he the guy who enchanted frogs to recite political speeches?" Heisenbones asked.

  "And tried to marry a cloud," added Linda.

  Walter pulled out a potion labeled Displacement Brew and two decoy hair samples. "Let's make it look like Greg's back in business."

  That night, Balthazar stood in front of a cottage that looked like it had opinions. He kicked down the door.

  Inside: dozens of enchanted toasters dancing, a portrait of a cloud with a wedding ring, and a frog shouting about economic reform.

  He narrowed his eyes.

  "Gregory."

  From the shadows, a very confused Gregory stepped out in a towel, holding tea.

  "Wait, what? I've been on vacation since the pancake incident!"

  Too late. Balthazar launched a spell that turned Gregory into a chair.

  TO BE CONTINUED…