Inside A Cave

  Night had fallen like a tired curtain over the jungle. Inside the cave, two small fireplaces flickered. Solo rested near one, inspecting his newest Dwargonian energy beam. He flicked on the laser finder—three red dots appeared somewhere in the darkness—then switched it off again. He picked up a stick and continued doodling in the dirt, a quiet giggle escaping him.

  On the other side, the Misfits slumped like children caught breaking something expensive. Regret clung to them like smoke.

  “How the hell am I supposed to know if he found an invisibility magic scroll and a strength-enchanting mask on one of the monster victims?” Irving muttered, poking the fire with a stick.

  “And why did you all scream like someone was dying?” he added, glancing at them suspiciously.

  Bella hugged her knees tighter. “I screamed because he said he’s going to order Director Lich from the CDC to research me… you know… why I’m a pink bat.”

  “Me?” Kovalski groaned. “Because he said he will mutate me into a staff member… in an all-male military school dorm.”

  “...He’s going to double my income tax,” Ivy muttered, eyes fixed on the fire.

  “Huh? Can he do all that?” Irving asked, squinting at them.

  “Why not?” Kovalski groaned. “He’s the number one person in Murica.”

  “And I don’t know what he’s been giggling about after he said he’d think about your punishment, Captain,” Bella added.

  “Not only did you shoot at him,” Ivy reminded, “but you also called him an ‘ugly motherfucker.’”

  The memory hit Irving like a hammer. His face darkened instantly. The four of them let out a long, collective sigh—the kind that exists only when you’re too stupid and too depressed to ever learn how the government actually works.

  “Hey! You all, come here!” Solo demanded suddenly.

  “YES, SIR!”

  The Misfits snapped into synchronized attention and approached him like a badly trained orchestra following a conductor they feared.

  “I’ve identified the monster terrorizing this area,” Solo said, pointing to the dirt before him. “A Drider. Half-man, half-spider. It has thermal vision. Deadly. Smart. Annoying.”

  “Oh that’s why you covered yourself with mud? To cover your body heat?” Irving said sweetly, “Such a magnificent survival skill, sir.”

  Solo stared.

  Then he choose to ignore him and gestured at the schematics scrawled on the ground.

  “That’s why I’m designing traps to catch it.”

  Kovalski peered at the dirt. “Oh my…”

  “That’s…” Irving started, then stopped.

  The drawing was… something. Lines, squiggles, circles, arrows, shapes that might have been traps or might have been abstract art. None of them could tell.

  “That’s a wonderful idea, sir,” Irving said, rubbing his hands like a pro japanese salesman.

  “Truly smart, beautiful drawing—more than art,” Kovalski added, admiring as if he were in an art gallery.

  “Even after a full day, you’re still thinking strategy? What a leader,” Ivy said, massaging Solo’s left shoulder.

  “You must be very tired after working so hard, Mr. Handsome and Cool–Prime Minister,” Bella added, massaging his right.

  In moments, the Misfits had slipped into full professional butt-kisser mode. A pitiful, synchronized display of: please don’t punish us, please don’t punish us.

  Solo sighed.

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  What am I even doing here? The United Demon Kingdom of Murica's Prime Minister thought while currently being surrounded by four idiots, in a cave, in the middle of a jungle. Hunting monsters with his own hands while the goddess and her people are out there, scheming to erase Murica from the face of Talvaris.

  Solo then letting out a longer sigh.

  ---

  3 Months Ago

  The Black House, Cabinet Meeting Room

  It’s a sunny and beautiful day in Bashington DC. In the Cabinet meeting room, Solo is having his weekly meeting.

  Solo sat at the head of the long table, flipping through a neat stack of documents while wearing his reading glasses. Levi, Mo, Stan, Bub, and Monny were seated around him. Belphy, as usual, was skipping class.

  “Hmmm…” Solo murmured, flipping a page, “this looks fine… this also…”

  He removed his glasses, thudded the stack back together, and set it neatly in front of him.

  “Well,” he said, leaning back slightly, “this is a solid draft for the military alliance with Dwargonia. Are they… okay with it?”

  Levi smiled. “Yes, sir. They’re perfectly fine with it.”

  Solo leaned back and let out a slow, relieved sigh.

  “Finally,” he said, grinning. “The Murica–Ravendawn–Dwargonia alliance will be official. Other kingdoms will be lining up to join.”

  Levi scratched his cheek, hesitant. “Err… maybe for now we should call it the Murica–Ravendawn plus Murica–Dwargonia alliance, sir.”

  “Huh? Why’s that?” Solo leaned forward.

  “Many Dwargonians are still angry about Ravendawn killing 9,000 of their sailors at the Battle of the Fogs,” Levi muttered.

  Solo groaned. “They’re still hung up on that?”

  “Give it time. They’ll get over it,” Mo said calmly.

  “Especially once everything is declassified,” Stan added.

  Solo let out a quiet sigh. Great. My two allies are basically South Korea and Japan now, he thought. Oh well. Worst-case scenario: they just mock each other in pop culture battles.

  “Alright then. Anything else, Levi?” Solo asked.

  Levi muttered to himself, checking notes in the margins of his own mental clipboard. “Archmage Gregor is now Ravendawn’s Prime Minister… check. Meridinian alliance lost another two kingdoms while being hammered by Dwargonia… check…”

  He looked up. “No, sir. Nothing new or important to report. All is calm. Peaceful. Totally normal.”

  “Mo? Stan? Anything to report?” Solo asked.

  “Nothing new, sir,” Mo said, tone flat. “It’s still impossible to send agents past the Celeste border. Their holy defenses are literally everywhere.”

  “Same here,” Stan added, lazily resting his hands behind his head. “Our military’s busy shipping equipment and ‘military advisors’ to conflicted countries like Vandoria and ex-Meridinian Alliance nations. And our new Second Fleet will patrol the eastern ocean while the First Fleet is redeployed to the west.”

  “Tch,” Monny muttered, frowning. “You warmongers take peace for granted. Peace is what actually strengthens a nation’s foundation.”

  “Monny?” Solo glanced at him. “Something to add?”

  “Kukuku… yes,” Monny said, lowering his gaze and chuckling softly.

  “IN FACT! I HAVE $6.2 TRILLION TO ADD!” He slammed a thick stack of papers on the table like a victorious warlord. “THAT’S OUR GDP PROJECTION THIS YEAR! KUHAHAHA!”

  “Ooooh.”

  The room collectively gasped, then clapped, not understanding what the numbers mean but instinctively knowing that if the grumpy demon accountant being happy, it must mean it’s definitely important.

  Everyone except Bub. Bub who sat next to Monny, slowly, stealthily sliding a thin stack of papers, trying to wedge them between Monny’s mountains of documents.

  “After Dwargonian minerals start flowing into Murica, and the Canal reopens,” Monny continued, while swatting Bub’s paper aside without looking, “money pours in—from inside and outside Murica.”

  Bub tried again, sliding his papers even more cautiously, like a kid stacking Jenga pieces.

  “And the best part,” Monny said, again pushing Bub’s paper aside, “many kingdoms now come to us begging for loans and free trade agreements! HAHAHA!”

  Bub’s hands inched forward again, this time feel challenged.

  “They want what happened to Ravendawn to happen to them too—WOULD YOU STOP SHOVING YOUR SPACE PROGRAM INTO MY YEARLY BUDGET?!” Monny bellowed, ripping Bub’s papers apart.

  “Nooooooo!” Bub wailed, futilely grabbing at the shredded sheets.

  “When I say no, it means BIG FUCKING NO!” Monny roared.

  “But you said we have an extra $6.2 trillion this year!” Bub protested. “I’ve built everything you asked—military stuff, consumer goods! Why can’t I start the space exploration program?”

  “BECAUSE IT’S USELESS!” Monny snapped. “Go explore it with a telescope or something—it’s cheaper!”

  Bub gasped. “HOW DARE YOU CALL MY DREAM USELESS!”

  The two ministers’ demon duke auras flared, a subtle but unmistakable tension rippling across the table.

  “Guys—guys… calm down,” Solo muttered half-heartedly, waving his hands.

  “Where’s Lilith? She usually stops this kind of thing,” Stan asked casually.

  “She’s feeling a bit unwell today,” Solo replied, tone flat.

  Then, suddenly, the meeting room door slammed open.

  A Black House foreign office officer barreled in, panting and wide-eyed, cutting through the chaos.

  The room fell silent.

  “Sires, I’m terribly sorry to barge in,” the officer gasped. “But there’s something you need to see.”

  ---

  In a different room, everyone now crowded around a massive monitor.

  On the screen, standing in stiff ceremonial poses, were Pope Primus The Wise—head of the Church of Celes, King Gregory of the Celeste Kingdom, and the elfs leader—Queen Thessalia of Elvandar.

  “With the Celeste and Elvandar standing together,” Pope Primus intoned, voice grave, “evil shall be stopped from expanding its influence in Talvaris. And we urge you, leaders of Talvaris, to join us in this holy alliance.”

  The officer from before paused the recording, looking nervously at Solo.

  “And… uh… this mana-comm recording is being broadcasted to all kingdoms around the world,” he said hesitantly.

  Silence fell across the room.

  Solo leaned back, eyes narrowing at the screen, muttering under his breath,

  “Shit… they got the drop on us…”