"WE NEVER HAD THIS TROUBLE before you freaks came to town!" Strong-Arm snarled.

  Once the battle ended, the mayor was none too happy. He snarled at Whiskey, Jiehong, and he like an animal caught in a trap.

  Normally, he would reply right away to such accusations. But he thought better of it and let the mayor tire himself of the yelling. Once Strong-Arm satiated his lungs of all the bad air caught within, he made his reply. "Mayor, sir. We are in a war. This happens. You have my word, though, ties between us -- the Order -- and your humble settlement will grow stronger because of this attack. We do not abandon our friends."

  Strong-Arm merely tensed and un-tensed his hands over and over. Like he desperately wanted to grab hold of him and shake him violently. The mayor managed to restrain himself so much and instead pushed his face until he was way too close. "Is that a threat?" Strong-Arm snarled.

  What happened next surprised even he -- a trainee from the camp pulled the mayor aside and threw him to the ground. "Is that a threat?"

  Strong-Arm looked at the recruit like he had gone insane. "How dare you!"

  The recruit did not flinch. He calmly said, "Our Order fellows did not need to help in the defense. But they did. Maybe the automotrons are only here because of them... maybe not. Zan is right, though. This is an invasion, and we need to be ready for trouble. That's why everyone is here, training to better their martial prowess. How about you do your job, mayor? Because the way I see it, you're the one who is causing trouble..."

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  The mayor stood up and dusted himself off. "I don't have time for this," he said, an edge to his voice. "I have a job to do. Molly?! Where are you?"

  Molly-Holly proved to not be far. She came to the mayor and helped him away from he and his teammates and the trainees. It looked like, for the time being, he and Molly were to leave them be. Though he made a note to check in on relations at a later date.

  "Thanks for backing us up, recruit. What's your name?" Jiehong asked.

  "Nail's the name. And you're welcome! I can't stand it when power-hards blow smoke everywhere," the recruit replied.

  Whiskey thanked the man as well. He couldn't stay and chat, but he knew the man genuinely believed in them. That made him feel all good inside.

  "Shet!" Whiskey said, dropping down to her haunches to rest again. "Tell me about what happened. But let's talk while we help these folks out."

  "A wonderful idea," he told his team, and they went into action helping the village.

  Hours of hard labor passed them by; he and Whiskey and Jiehong chatted intermittedly about the command center developments. Specifically, the spirit core processor and Sigma-Prime's mission to put the center's folk to work. They pulled people from the wreckage, shouted for those in hiding to come back, and did what they could to tend to the wounded without magical abilities. When everyone was accounted for and the crying ceased after another few hours, next came the cleanup. That lasted a few hours more. By the end of it all he was exhausted and simply could not do anymore.

  It was late at night when he called it. "Let's go back, guys. I need a good meal. And a better sleep."

  They trudged their way back to their decimated encampment outside of the bunker. 'Good thing we hardly had a base up here,' he thought as he looked at the destroyed tents, fire pit, and the rows of soil which were coming along so well for their garden-to-be. He wanted to sleep, but he knew sleep would be impossible. Somewhere out there was Mentality. And he was playing mind games with him. Why? He didn't know. But he sure as heck would find out -- whatever the cost.