Chapter 1:

"He's beautiful," breathed Simone. Laying propped up in bed, Phoebe flushed to her hair. He was also Finn's son. She could never forget the fact that she'd come between her two best friends. In many ways, she felt responsible for the fact that Finn hadn't returned. Simone however, never said a word about any of that. She behaved as though they still were the best of friends. It was eerie. Simone Mertens wouldn't acknowledge the wound she'd been dealt. She wouldn't talk about it and did her best to discourage Phoebe from even bringing it up.

The tall woman was in a very fragile state of mind. She had awakened from her coma alone in an empty hospital room after spending the better part of a year as the Lich's sock-puppet–watching him do horrific things with her hands and body. She'd awakened to find her husband missing, her father dead, and her family in tatters. Simone was a wreck. If that wasn't enough, Phoebe was certain she was all but carrying Emeraude. Simone was the tenuous thread that had let the wizard-woman hang onto her sanity the last twenty years or so, and Phoebe was certain that Emeraude was a hot mess–teetering on the brink right now. With Finn gone and the kids moved out, Simone was all she had.

Laying the little tyke back in his crib, the Ice Queen turned to the Flame King and asked, "when will they let you take him home?" Flushing, Phoebe murmured, "I don't know... I... my doctor doesn't want to come look at him, and Dr. Princess ruined several instruments trying to examine him..." Drew was trying to help, but she was hopelessly out of her depth. Cole seemed to flow at random from solid to intangible form. There were days he had bouts of it for hours at a time. He was the typical baby most of the time–giggling and laughing–but when he was sick, Phoebe had to keep him in his crib. A horrified Simone stood staring at the elemental woman after that exposition. It took several minutes for the pale beauty to recover her voice.

When she was finally able to speak again, Simone asked, "c-can't Bonnie do something?" With an unhappy sigh, Phoebe replied, "busy with the ice or with the council..." Simone's face curled into a frown. Bonnie was seven months pregnant. She should be at home! Resting! Staring at the wall, face gone hot, Phoebe said, "nobody's resting. Everybody's..." They were all wondering where Finn was, and in their grief, they were all throwing themselves into work. Cherry spent all her time in the council now. Nadia was helping Bonnie with logistics. Lollipop had become their go-between, running errands that neither Bonnie nor Cherry could find the time for. They would all rather be out working than at home, wondering.

Simone glanced away at that news. They were all falling apart, and she didn't know what to do. She had come to accept this. She'd had little choice when she'd been declared dead for nearly a year. Finn had moved on. What else should he have done? Problem was that he had gone, and no-one truly knew where. A part of Simone feared this was her fault. She felt as though he'd found she was alive and been stricken by guilt and unable to cope. Now she was having trouble coping with nowhere and no-one to turn to.

In happier times, she always had someone to go to. She'd go down, corner her father–usually when her mother was out–and listen to some well-meaning advice. Her father's advice wasn't always spot on, but it always got her thinking. She missed those words. She missed having someone there to remind her that what she was going through wasn't all that unique. She knew Finn often sought Simon's advice as well. Having her father there to help them calm down and think had been the blessing that kept her family from spiraling out of control.

"I... have to go, Phoebe," Simone sighed. Phoebe thanked her for coming, but a distracted Simone was already halfway to the door. The elemental woman winced as the door shut behind Simone, leaving her alone. She had been tempted to go looking for Finn herself, but that was a tough row to hoe with her just done giving birth and Cole still looking a little unstable. He wouldn't be fit to travel for a while yet, if ever. What do I do, she thought, as she'd thought a hundred times or more already? Unfortunately, just as before no answers were forthcoming.

Outside, Simone unlocked the door of the beat-up old truck that had been school-bus, grocery-getter, and family transportation for sixteen good years. Finn and Banana Man had fixed it up and presented it to her one Saturday afternoon while she was fussing over dinner. She'd been so shocked and delighted, she forgot all about dinner, letting it burn to a crisp on the stove. Emeraude had bought them all dinner out that night. Her hands caressed the worn metal of the door in memory. Her husband had scoured the wastelands around Bonnie's capitol for weeks looking for parts and pieces to get this thing running. As she remembered those treasured moments, a voice deep inside her plaintively called out, where are you, Finn?

"Your Excellency," announced a voice behind her. Startled, Simone spun around to find a plump, toad-like fellow wearing the robes of a wizard standing behind her. "Hello," she greeted him. "What do you mean by that? And what can I do for you?" Doffing his pointed cap, he replied, "I'm sent by the Electoral Council..." Frowning, Simone said, "I'm not sure I understand..." With a shrug, he said, "you haven't come to take the Grand Master's Wand. I'm sent to find out why..." Simone turned fully to face him now, shock showing in her very posture. Her mouth opened to speak, and she shut again without uttering a word.

Smoothly, he said, "the city has run itself rather poorly since your late father was taken from us so suddenly. It was assumed that his wife would step in. Unfortunately she has completely abdicated her responsibilities..." Simone gawped at him. She hadn't helped with the campaign because she wanted the job! She'd helped because her mother so clearly did. This was completely mad! "I-I don't know where mom is," the beautiful woman stammered. "I-I'll try and find her." And she didn't give him a chance to utter another word. She broke a fingernail in her haste to get the car door open, and she all but tore out of there.

Sucking at her injured finger, the Ice Queen tore through the streets of town, swerving around cars and bicycles alike as she tried to get a grip on herself. Lost in her terror over what had just happened, the former housewife lost all track of her surroundings. She was just about to turn onto the freeway to head out of town when she belatedly looked up and found a Banana Guard truck on her bumper with its lights and siren going. It was only then that she realized what she'd been doing. Shocked and embarrassed, she immediately pulled over. In short order, there was an angry piece of fruit at her window with a gun in his hand shouting orders at her. Shortly after that she was sitting handcuffed in the back of a squad-car, bawling her eyes out.

Elsewhere, Bonnibel Bubblegum sat listening to her inner circle as they reported on all that was going on across the face of the Civilized Lands. For the most part, things were getting better. With the Lich finally buried, there was no longer anyone out recruiting armies to fight for him. The kingdoms had turned their attention inwards to clean up the Thief King's mess. Of course there were still problems. The wild weather was having a negative effect on crops, and there was a real risk there.

Breakfast had the floor just now. "We're seeing shortages in Muscle Kingdom," she explained. Frowning, Bonnie asked, "did Yolanda not implement the rationing program?" Breakfast flushed. She had a lot of trouble functioning in the role she'd accepted. Unused to work and conflict as she was, the ruler of Breakfast Kingdom had a lot of trouble exerting authority. Especially against a friend. With a pointed look at Breakfast, Cherry growled, "nothing's changed, Bonnibel. Yolanda's done worse than nothing. She's assured her people that they don't have to change–that food will be found somewhere..." Breakfast sputtered, but Bonnie cut her off with a wave of her hand. Coolly, Bonnie said, "we will institute sanctions on the Royal Family of Muscle Kingdom. Freeze all assets of their family. All the money and all the property being held in other kingdoms."

Grimly, Ragnhild nodded. That job would fall to her. She wasn't enjoying her little taste of power on the Privy Council. There were moments where it hardly seemed their war against Wildberry and her faction had truly ended. They were doing the right thing. She knew Bonnie's heart was in the right place. It was mad that Yolanda thought that her people could continue to behave like the world hadn't nearly been frozen when the signs of the problems were all around them. At the same time, they were going after the prideful wench's jugular, and Ragnhild would have to be the one delivering the bad news since Breakfast couldn't manage to offend her chum. Fortunately that was almost the last bit of business for the day. Only Cherry remained.

In her usual soft, clear voice, the Lord of the Underworld declared, "the survey of the underworld is nearly complete. There is no organized crime remaining in Muscle Kingdom, Laurel Kingdom, and Lizard Kingdom. We were not able to survey the people of Wildberry Kingdom." Hearing that last statement, Bonnie frowned at her and rumbled, "explain..." "I was not permitted entry," said Cherry, "and my agents have not responded to my calls." Fists clenching, Bonnie growled, "this is not acceptable..." "She's at war with us," retorted Cherry. "Did you think there would be no fallout?"

Ragnhild flinched. Both women were prideful. Both had been at war originally over the death of Cherry's first husband. Now they were uneasy allies who shared a man. It seemed mad to the proud princess of Froyo Kingdom. The two women shared Finn the Human like he was some sweet treat. She didn't know how they hadn't managed to tear each other to pieces yet. "This isn't acceptable," murmured Bonnie. "Wildberry doesn't have the right to..." "Let me go and talk to her," interrupted Nadia. Shaking her head, Cherry said, "this isn't a task for someone of your stature, Nadia..." Bonnie frowned. It sounded suspiciously like Cherry expected that one of them might disappear too. That was a concern that wasn't really for the ears of the council, though.

Moving on, Bonnie asked, "what does it mean when there is no organized crime?" Cherry, as far as any of them knew, was the only Royal who truly understood how the underworld even functioned. Most folk thought of it as a world of men randomly robbing their neighbors at best or small groups terrorizing others for fun and profit. "It means more violence, Bonnie," she sighed. "It means men thinking with their balls are in charge at the moment. They... Many of them have little or nothing to lose, and the victors of these nasty little skirmishes have no reason to respect my authority. Marceline may have meant well, but she left us with a mess."

"We should arrest them," growled Slime Princess! Cherry rolled her eyes. "You'd just be making the power-vacuum worse," she retorted. "We're in this mess because the unlawful powers that ruled those men are all dead. There's nobody to institute order. I'm working on the problem, but it's going to be tough and ugly going for a while." "Thank-you," breathed Bonnie. Turning to the others, she said, "I think that's all for now. Get home, all of you. Get some rest. I think things are going to be rather unpleasant when the fall weather comes."

As the others trickled out, she turned to her nemesis and strange new frenemy and said, "Cherry... stay please." The little woman stopped where she was. She didn't really like these private sessions, and she looked a little prickly as the door shut on the last of their allies. Bonnie motioned for her to come out into the garden, as she picked up the herbal tea on her desk. With a sigh, Cherry got up and followed. Once in the garden, the tall princess shut the door and motioned for her frenemy to have a seat.

As the two settled themselves, smoothing out their skirts, Bonnie opened with, "you look tired. Aren't you drinking the tea, Drew prescribed?" "It makes my stomach fizzy," muttered the younger woman. Giving Bonnie a cross look, she asked, "why do you care?" With a dry chuckle, Bonnie said, "because we agreed to bury the hatchet. As far as I'm concerned, that... extends. I'm concerned that you're not resting. You are carrying Finn's child." Cherry flushed and glanced away.

Moving on to business, Bonnie asked, "how long do you think...?" "It'll last," Cherry finished? "I have no way to know. This is unprecedented. If I had Star, I'd have some way to gather intelligence..." That was an old argument. Bonnie waved it away, reminding her rival, "I need her. With Billy now moved to Ragnhild's kingdom and Fionna on the ice..." And of course, Bon was split between being her ambassador and the job of keeping the Candy Kingdom afloat while Bonnie was busy with the Privy Council. Shoko was tied up acting as Phoebe's proxy in the Fire Kingdom.

Taking a page from Cherry's own book, Bonnie reminded her, "everybody's involved. We've got nobody on the bench..." Finn had blessed them with six fabulous children, but they couldn't be everywhere at once. And they had lives to lead too. Fionna would soon be much too pregnant to go running around like this. Cherry muttered something under her breath.

"I wish he was home too," Bonnie wistfully murmured. "I wish he'd talked to us before..." "I intend to put my foot in his ass," growled the gangster, as she rose once more. She was angry at him for putting them through this. "We'll flip for it," Bonnie retorted. She had her own issues with what their husband was doing. More to the point, she was very angry about what he'd tried to do on his own without discussing it with them. As Cherry approached the door, she stopped suddenly. "She hates you, Bonnie," murmured the crime boss. "She hates you enough to want to harm you personally. She's a threat to the peace as long as she draws breath." Bonnie shivered as her frenemy walked out that door. There weren't many who understood the revenge-road better than Cherry.

Moving on, Bonnie climbed to her feet and headed back inside. She had business down in her lab working on the food problem. The Candy Kingdom had been experiencing shortages before the Lich's weather-magic screwed up the planet. Now things were critical, and she was perilously close to the dark days where there was rioting in the streets. If she didn't play things very carefully, Wildberry wouldn't need assassins or anything else to get rid of her.

Hundreds of miles away, in a forgotten town in the wastelands east of Wildberry's kingdom, a lone figure walked into a ramshackle bar to find the typically eclectic mix of mutants and humanoids sitting there in the dim light, nursing on drinks. Dressed head to foot in black, the tall, pale man carried a guitar case as he sidled up to the bar. "Hey," said the corpulent bartender–an ugly mutant with scales covering his orange skin. "Water," muttered the stranger. The barkeep laughed. "Water here's poison," he said. "It's worth your life to drink it straight..." "But water's what I want," retorted the newcomer. "Your funeral," said the barkeep. "Just don't die inside my place."

The stranger waited patiently as the barkeep fetched him his glass. His eyes were on the worn wooden surface of the bar, while the eyes of most of the room were on him. One particular set of eyes belonged to an elegant woman in the far corner of the bar. Small of stature with haunting eyes of emerald hue, long black hair, and pale purple skin, she seemed to see everything that transpired in that place without really seeming to pay much attention to any of it.

As he waited, the handsome man idly stroked the guitar case as one might touch a lover, suggesting that it was his prized possession. The barkeep set the glass down in front of him and asked, "you play?" "Yeah," said the stranger. "Play for myself mostly." Straightening, the barkeep said, "don't get much for entertainment in these parts. Tell you what, you can stay free if you keep the custom amused for a bit." The stranger turned his uncanny red eyes on the barkeep, suggesting that whatever enjoyment he got from playing an instrument was for his ears alone. The barkeep fetched back a pace as the tall man studied him. "Fine," he said. "One night's rest."

Rising, taking his glass and the guitar case, the stranger went to the rough and rickety stage that stood at the head of the room. Settling himself there on a stool, he took a sip of the wager as he opened the guitar case. Drawing a beautiful old six-string of ancient design, he spent a moment humming to himself, sipping the toxic water, and tuning his instrument. When he was done, he had every face there focused on his with laser sharpness.

Taking up the instrument, he strummed a haunting chord that seemed to echo through the room, hanging in the air for just a moment too long before the tall stranger began to sing:

I can hear what you're thinkin'

All your doubts and fears

And if you look in my eyes

In time you'll find the reason I'm here

And in time, all things shall pass away

In time, you may come back some day

To live once more or die once more

But in time, your time will be no more

You know your days are numbered

Count 'em one by one

Like notches in the handle of an outlaw's gun

You can outrun the devil if you try

But you can never outrun the hands of time

In time, there'll surely come a day

In time, all things shall pass away

In time, you may come back some say

To live once more or die once more

But in time, your time will be no more

I can hear what you're thinkin'

Ending on the same note he'd begun with, the tall man seemed to let his eyes linger on the beautiful woman in the corner just a moment too long before he turned, shook himself, and began putting the guitar away. Finishing his drink, he stood and tipped his hat to the petite beauty before striding for the door. The startled bartender called after him, "but you ain't finished! I though you was gonna' stay?!" When the confused barman reached the entrance, he found the street outside empty. It was as if he'd seen a ghost. Shivering in fear, the barkeep went back inside.

He found his custom, in spite of the strange disturbance, had returned to their drinks, their dinner, and their conversations. Whistling his relief, the barman went back to work behind his bar, filling orders and directing his waiters as he tried to forget about inviting a specter to play for his customers. In the corner, Suadela Galitsis sat frowning at the door, wondering. Who was he? There was a familiarity to him. Just now she didn't need the distraction. She was in an ugly situation–a place unfamiliar to her.

Raised to rule the Laurel Kingdom upon the passing of her mother, Suadela had experienced a drastic shift in fortune. She'd been kidnaped–snatched literally from within her own home. Subjected to gang rape and torture for days until she'd been all but begging to die, she'd been granted the curse of undeath by the twisted creature who'd abducted her and made to serve the would-be architect of the death of the world. Spared further torture, the fallen princess had been eager to serve–to mete out pain and anguish on others in her new master's name.

She'd let herself believe in the dream. They were going to bring about the End-of-Days–the fabled end-times where the entirety of the world was brought low. The fallen princess had been eager to prove herself in the Lich's service. She'd been willing to do whatever was asked of her in furtherance of his goals. She'd lost her beloved brother in service to the cause, completing her journey into the darkness where she now dwelt.

But it had all turned to ash around her.

The cause was gone–dead as the man who'd embraced it. Worse, they had gone from being the hunters to being the hunted. There was a force out there. An uncertain something was killing them. It was a twisted sort of irony for Suadela Galitsis–or the creature that had once been the proud young princess. The demon-powered warrior was killing all the undead he could lay his hands on. She'd had delusions early on. It was the raw days just after her master had fallen in the cold wastelands fighting against that fucking witch. Suadela had been out on a mission when the Lich took ship, and she'd returned too late to join the party.

She'd bided her time, reasoning that there would be plenty of opportunities for death and mayhem when the bomb exploded. Anybody who was still alive on the planet after that would be fair game–and it wasn't as though she'd be inconvenienced by the blast. She had been looking forward to helping bring on the end of days, but the party had gotten spoiled. Instead of celebrating with the deaths of everybody in Wildberry Kingdom, she had gotten to feel her master be forced out of his host. Shortly thereafter she'd lost all contact with him, suggesting he'd been put back into some sort of prison.

She wasn't the oldest of the Dipped nor was she the strongest. Still Suadela had immediately taken charge and started plotting their revenge. She'd begun scheming to find out just where their master was taken. There was a rescue to mount after all and races of humanoids to make extinct. And then their foe had come among them, hunting down every creature the master had ever created. He'd been shockingly effective at it. They were dieing. Strangely enough, it was the Dipped who were becoming extinct. From a high of hundreds, they were down to tens, and Suadela's leadership was coming into question.

Truth be told, she'd been raised to be a princess. She had no idea how to lead anyone. She had no capability to plan. She only had some vague idea what they needed to do, and she had her powers of persuasion–drastically limited by the fact that she was now undead. Irritatingly, the dead seemed not to have much interest in her false face. She could still charm the living, but she hardly saw that as valuable when they were at war and needed numbers. It wasn't like their enemy was going to go weak in the knees at the look of her.

"Piccolo's group never arrived," rumbled her lieutenant. Suadela frowned. That was a little disturbing on a number of different levels. Piccolo was her biggest detractor, and she wouldn't have doubted that he would turn on her and maybe go off to start his own faction. At the same time, Piccolo had been agitating to replace her as overall leader. With all that had happened the last few weeks, Suadela was on the ropes, so why would he disappear now. She had a suspicion that it wasn't by choice. It was quite likely that their mysterious foe had done him and his faction in. They were down to just twenty. This had them down to twenty souls and those twenty on borrowed time. Who knew when their mysterious enemy might just decide to finish the job? That might even have been him playing the guitar.

"We need to move," muttered Suadela. "We'll move the gathering. Tonight." The town had been a good hiding place. Resting on the edge of the wastelands like a cliff on the edge of the abyss, the town existed in a perpetual state of virulent anarchy. You were only safe inside your own dwelling here–and only so long as you could defend your own walls. Violent death was a frequent occurrence here in these hinterlands, and nobody bothered much with investigation. It went a long way towards helping hide her soldiers' more ugly impulses. Suadela felt those impulses every moment of her ugly existence. She wanted to kill. That was what she had been reborn to do. She was meant to empty rotten little towns like this. Instead she was hiding. And now she would be fleeing. It wouldn't sit well with some of the more active members of her faction, but she had no desire to be destroyed as her brother had been.

It was late in the day when the once and former Court Wizard to Princess Bubblegum cussed and bullied her way into the lockup underneath Banana-Guard headquarters to find her best friend in the world locked in a cell, looking as miserable as Emeraude had ever seen her. Streaks of mascara running down her cheeks told that she'd been crying off and on for quite a while. Rushing up to the bars, the little wood nymph reached through to her friend in a panic. Sniffing back tears, Simone answered that gesture with, "hi..."

Whirling around, Emeraude Mertens snarled, "you get her out of that fucking cell right this minute!" Glaring back, the guard retorted, "no fucking way. She's in for felony evading and fleeing the police. She stays right there." Drawing herself up, the wizard growled, "you really wanna' go there?" "I let you in here," retorted the guard. "I know who you are, but you aren't Court Wizard anymore, and I don't answer to you." Emeraude's fist's clenched, but suddenly an unpleasant reality check arrived in the form of her own daughter.

"What's going on here," asked Star, as she strode into the lockup? "This fucking guy has Simone locked up," growled Huntress Wizard. "What're you going to do about this?" Star reached past her mother and picked up the placard on the wall next to the cell. Scanning it, she turned to her other mother and asked, "is this true?" "I... I was upset," Simone stammered. "I... I didn't see him..." Star sighed heavily. Her mothers had been in and out of hot water the last few weeks. If it wasn't Simone's increasingly inattentive/borderline reckless driving–and resulting wrecks and traffic tickets–it was Emeraude picking fights in bars and looking for trouble. Star's lot in life had become smoothing over ruffled feathers and cleaning up the mess. And she was tired of it.

"Ok," she said, "I've had enough of your shit. Both of you. You're going to counseling. Tomorrow..." Emeraude got in her face, and Star jabbed her in the chest, saying, "you can go to counseling, momma, or you can go to jail on that assault charge. Get me? You gave me tough love when I was being a shit. Now I'm returning the favor. You're going to counseling. Get used to it." Turning to the guard, she said, "release her on her own recognizance. Tomorrow afternoon, you're to call the Candy Clinic and inquire about their presence in counseling. If they're not there, you're to put out warrants for their arrest." Without a further word, the Acting Captain of the Guard turned and strode out of there, muttering curses and shaking her head.

As soon as the cell door was open, Emeraude rushed to Simone's side. The tall woman looked thoroughly miserable and ashamed. Taking her by the arm, the wood nymph wizard steered her best friend out the door, directing withering glares at the guard the whole way. Outside, the wizard woman bundled Simone into the passenger seat of her truck and tore out of there. The minute they were out of sight of the jail, Simone turned on the water again, bawling her eyes out. Emeraude pulled over, parked the car, and hugged the grief-stricken woman.

"I'm sorry," Simone babbled over and over. Emeraude whispered soothing words and stroked her long, pale hair. When the younger woman was finally calm again, Emeraude turned and sat staring out at the world outside. She was angry. She was burn-the-house-down-and-the-town-too angry. She was angry at Simone and angry at Simon. She was angry at her kid. She was angry at Betty. She was angry at Finn. She was really angry at Finn. And that was the punchline to the joke that was her life.

Finn had done all the stuff a good husband did. He'd kept the faith long past when the average joe would have turned and walked away. Her aunt had been right. She'd messed up and thrown away happiness, and in the end she'd accomplished sweet fuck-all as far as making things better for her people. Face it, Emeraude, she thought, you're angry at yourself, but you can't–won't–admit it. "Simone," she murmured. "Yeah," the younger woman whined. "We... we're goin' to counseling, babe," Emeraude sighed. "I... we need help..." It was past time they admitted it.