“I think we are lost,” Simeon groaned. Sinatra made a grunt in return, but offered nothing to his emerald fan club member. There was nothing to say. They were, in fact, very lost.

  The fan club president was surprised that the woods of the resort were so vast, and the trails had no ropes to warn unsuspecting visitors when they might wander off. Or when someone thought they could just cut through to catch up with their princess. There was especially nothing to say since he was the one responsible for getting them into this mess.

  “What if we die in these woods?” Siegfried started. His voice grew more panicked as he spoke, “and they can’t find us, and the fan club forgets its founders, and they look under my bed in the barracks!”

  “Calm down, calm down,” Simeon replied. Sinatra was sure the younger member was trying to assure himself as much as Siegfried. He thought it might be best to remind them that they were still on resort property and that they were being ridiculous, but, knowing those two, it was a lost cause.

  Sinatra took a deep breath, mostly to sigh, but stopped when he thought he caught a whiff of something. It was reshy and possibly smelled slightly of fish. He took a couple of steps to the scent, while the other two began to spiral in a panicked chat behind, and felt the air as best he could. Sinatra thought it felt stickier. Mistier maybe. All he could still see was trees and undergrowth in every direction, but there was a chance.

  “Listen! Do you smell that?”

  The other two stopped and tilted their heads a moment. Deep in focus, trying to pick up the scent. Sinatra wished they could be as focused on the fan club; he might have made one of them vice president if they had been.

  “Is that…” Simeon started. Siegfried finished.

  “The ocean!”

  At once, the two rushed past Sinatra. Sinatra tried to grab them, but they slipped through with ease. He ran after, pushing through heavy plant growth with a hand shielding his eyes in case something snapped back unexpectedly. The president was worried that something might cause a rash, which could be particularly nasty on Aqueenian skin, but he would have to worry about that later.

  He pushed through a final heavy growth and stopped just behind his two companions. Both knelt low and hid behind the last remaining light growth just beyond a beautiful moons lit beach. Sinatra saw all at once why they hid. What could be described as an army was littered across the beach. As he matched the crouched position of the other two, he scanned the scene.

  They wore black armor and divided into ranks of swords, spears, and bows for the helmeted grunts. The bulk seemed to be made up of all races and sizes, leading Sinatra to wonder if it was a force from Nun. Yet, they didn’t wear any Nun City symbols or any of the logos of the sponsors who aided in their unusual military funding. This was something else.

  Of what Sinatra could see, it seemed Hobusians and Bentalousians were minimal in the ranks, after that, Aqueenains. The vast majority of the force was made up of Netzians and Zenototes, with who looked to be the most important fellow by others' reactions, being a Zenotote with bleached blue scales. He trudged across the sand and scratched at his chest, which looked almost a different shade of blue, but Sinatra wasn’t sure if it was a trick of the light.

  “This doesn’t look good!” Simeon whimpered.

  “Really? Cause I thought it looked like a friendly tea party!” Siegfried snapped back.

  Sinatra shook his head. The leader looking one shouted something at the group, and they formed a line. He paced in front of them, seemingly giving a little speech. From the distance, it looked like the troops were unimpressed. The leader stopped and scratched at the miscolored scales again. Sinatra was beginning to think it wasn’t just the lighting.

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  “Should we do something?” Simeon hissed.

  “We don’t have any weapons!” Siegfried replied.

  “But Prince Donn would-”

  “Prince Donn could knock ten of them over with just a flex!”

  “Shut up! They might hear us!” Sinatra hissed at the other two. He shook his head and focused on the crowd. The attention had turned away from the Zenotote and was locked on the ocean. Something was rising out of it. The president held his breath as a full metal person seemed to emerge slowly. It was a Needaimus, it had to be, but so large it couldn’t. Sinatra gulped. The Needaimus person was about as tall as Prince Donn, and with a shaply, overtly feminine body. Hot pink metal was bright as the suns against the black armored troops.

  “You two, run away from here as fast as possible! Just get away and find someone, anyone! Tell them what you saw!”

  The other two fan club members had dropped all carelessness in attitude at the sight of the giant Needaimus. They nodded and made only a soft reply.

  “May we meet up again to serve our princess.”

  Both moved in a manner that was as rushed as someone trying to be quiet could be. Sinatra watched as they vanished into the thicket and then turned back to the others on the beach.

  The Needaimus walked up to the Zenotote, and they engaged in talk. The metallic companion was emotionless, but the Zenotote looked as though it was getting quite heated. Eventually, he motioned for them to step further away, and both walked over to Sinatra. Wide-eyed, he got low and did his best to hide where the bushes were thickest.

  He couldn’t see a thing but the ground, but soon they were in earshot.

  “I’m telling you the treasure hunters were just in over their heads, that is why we should have hired professionals instead of trying your elaborate scheme to bait them with a map!” A raspy, deep voice snapped. The Zenotote, most likely.

  The reply came in a soft, cool voice, which had to have been the voice of the Needaimus.

  “Be that as it may, I have tracked their position to where our tracker shut off, and I have found what appear to be ruins.”

  There was a slide of a foot on the ground, and a loud enough scratching while the raspy voice scoffed.

  “Need I remind you, this was a simple mission to establish a foothold at this resort! And yet you and your sister or whatever want to go on a wild paluse chase! I swear, Nighthawk had his flaws, but he at least listened to me!”

  There was a sudden sound of gagging from the Zenotote.

  “Leave my brother out of this.”

  A thump came from the soil, and Sinatra heard the Zenotote grunt at what sounded like the same height.

  “Fine, fine.” The voice moved upward, and it sounded as if the Zenotote brushed himself off, “but my point still stands. We take this resort as intended. I am fairly certain I saw a Hobusian that recognized me, so we can’t afford to waste any more time. You can go play in the ocean after that if you so desire…. What, nothing to say now?”

  “My sister has informed me that we are being spied on.”

  “Excuse me?”

  The bushes began to rustle, and Sinatra didn’t hesitate to push to his feet. He was sure he had just barely avoided a hand that was about to grab him. The Zenotote shouted in shock, and mechanical feet boomed just behind. Sinatra pushed through the growth. He ran with all his might, pushing past the pain as cuts and scrapes marked up his smooth skin.

  Behind was a sound of terror as plants snapped aside agains the metallic opponent. His legs burned as everything he had went into running. Trees went by in short bursts, and new, nasty cuts burned on his arms as he carelessly brushed past everything.

  The president burst through the thicket and found himself in a clearing. With heavy breath, he ran across at full speed. Then, without even realizing how it happened, something snagged at his legs. His face smashed into the dirt, and his nose twisted.

  He pinched his nose to stop the blood and looked up. A new giant Needaimus was striding forward. This time, metallic yellow, with an equally feminine form. It dragged the other two fan club members by their legs and tossed them to the ground next to Sinatra.

  “Ah, jeez, and here I thought I was totes going to have a good fight!” the yellow Needaimus grumbled. It crossed its arms and made a huff.

  From behind came the cool voice. “This lot is too weak to offer a good fight.” Sinatra felt a heavy foot drive into his back. He shouted in pain. “The question is, how should we kill them?”

  “No, no, no!” the yellow Needaimus crossed arms into an ‘X’, “Like, why do you want to kill all the time, for real. They are just randos, you get it, no need to go all psycho killer lady!”

  “Then what do you suggest?”

  “Like, I can just tie them up, you know? This blue one is kinda cute too, and the nose bleeder isn’t too shabby.”

  The pink Needaimus sighed.

  “Very well, but you have to bring them back on your own. So long as they don’t warn anyone, I suppose it is fine.”

  “Yay! You’re like the best for real!”

  Sinatra felt the pressure from the foot on his back vanish, but before he could try to make a break for it, a fist came from the yellow one, and everything went dark.