One giant in a metal crater later, here they were.

Skipper, Ruth and the indomitable Mazma walked into the hangar, Skipper slapping his hands together in satisfaction as he looked up at his ship. The Slipstream was just as they'd left it -- sleek, pristine and beautiful.

"There you are, old girl," Skipper grinned -- he was trying to get a thing going where he looked like he really cared about his ship. He'd only had it for a few weeks, but he felt like he was making good progress in that regard. This must have seemed like a real heartwarming scene.

Ruth rolled her eyes behind him.

"Looks like the ship's already been unlocked," Skipper continued, clearing his throat as he gestured towards the open clamps. "I'm guessing we can thank Mr. Hadrien and the del Sed's for that one, yeah?"

"Yeah," Bruno's voice echoed out from behind them. "But we have a problem."

Skipper turned to look as the blonde-haired boy marched into the hangar, a grim expression on his face -- grimmer than usual, which was saying something.

Ruth grinned: "Bruno! Serena!" she exclaimed, relief evident in her tone, only to be silenced by a regretful glance from Bruno. She narrowed her eyes. "Where's Dragan?"

Bruno finally reached them, stuffing his hands in his pockets as he sighed. "That's the problem." He glanced at Mazma. "Who's this?"

"Mazma is the only guy," Mazma 'explained'.

For a second, it looked like Bruno would inquire further -- then he just rubbed the bridge of his nose with his fingers and nodded. "Okay."

"What happened, Bruno?" Skipper said, voice firm. "Thirty words or less, yeah?"

Again, Bruno nodded. "Me and Dragan came here to get the ship out of impound. We had to bring some techs with us to do that. We split up for a minute -- Dragan was watching the ship and I was going to use the controls. I heard gunfire after I started the unlock sequence so I rushed back to see what was happening -- my hostage ran for it. When I got back here, Dragan was gone."

Skipper rubbed his chin with his prosthetic hand, the metal cold against his skin. "That's way more than thirty words," he mused. "And that's also really bad. You haven't seen him since?"

Bruno shook his head. "I went through some of the nearest corridors to search, but I didn't want to go too far from the ship in case you guys showed up."

"What, you weren't worried about him?" Ruth said, stepping forward indignantly.

Bruno turned to look at her and even Skipper was surprised by the sheer ferocity in his eyes. It was as if Ruth had just slapped him in the face.

"Of course I was!" he snapped. "But if I went searching for him, and you all showed up here while I was gone, the situation would be even worse! So I did… I did the practical thing." That last bit was muttered, Bruno's eyes staring sadly down at the ground.

Ruth glanced away too, for her part, regret obvious in her eyes.

"Hey, hey," Skipper raised his hands reassuringly. "This is a stressful situation, yeah? I get that too. Let's not say anything we're gonna regret later. So -- here's what we're gonna do."

This ship was going down -- that was obvious. Every second they were aboard the Regent increased the chances they would die there. There was no point in increasing the risk to all of them any further.

Just one of them, then.

"I'm gonna find Dragan," Skipper said -- the tone of his voice permitting no argument. "And then I'm bringing him back. That's a fact. You get me?"

Ruth opened her mouth as if to protest -- but a subtle shake of the head from Skipper changed the words that came out of her mouth. "How are you gonna find him?" she asked quietly. "He could be anywhere."

"Well," Skipper cracked his neck. "I'm actually kind of a badass. Bruno, you try an Aether ping yet?"

Bruno nodded. "Nothing."

"So he was out of range, then. No problems. I'll just have to give it the old Skipper touch. You guys get the ship ready to go the second I get back. You understand?"

Bruno stepped forward, eyebrows knit together in frustration -- but before he could say anything, his expression softened. "Sure thing, Mr. Skipper," Serena nodded. "Come on, Miss Ruth. Let's get the ship ready."

And with that, she turned and began heading for the Slipstream, grabbing Ruth by the hand as she went and pulling her along. Skipper smiled to himself: she seemed like she had her head in the clouds, but Serena del Sed always came through when it counted.

As Skipper began to make his way back towards the door, he felt a hand reach out and grab his arm -- turning his head, he saw Mazma. The being's face was twisted in what might have been concern.

"You are going to go for this guy?" he said, voice hushed as if he were whispering but actually speaking just as loud.

"Sure am."

"This guy is corpse guy now, my guy. Maybe even skeleton. Going back is the errand of fool, okay? Listen to Mazma. Listen to wisdom of Mazma."

Skipper wasn't really sure why he'd listen to the wisdom of Mazma, since he'd known him for barely an hour, but he didn't say that. Instead he just chuckled, shrugged Mazma's hand off, and shook his head.

"Can't do that, pal," Skipper said. "Dragan's my little buddy."

If Dragan had heard that, Skipper had no doubt he would have killed all the crew and then set the ship to self-destruct. Still, Mazma seemed to accept that as justification, offering an exaggerated salute as Skipper stalked off.

As Skipper left the room, cracking the joints on his fingers in preparation for combat, he could hear Mazma talking to Ruth off in the distance.

"Now it is time for Mazma to exit your party. The house of you guys is now having one less guest inside it. Okay?"

"Okay. Bye."

"You will be a sad girl for some time, Mazma thinks, but you must not undergo the sad forever. Someday become happy girl. Understand? Holding balloon like amusement park --"

"Bye."

"-- like amusement park patron, that is who you will be. Roller coaster enjoyer. Angelic person. On all your birthday's you think of Mazma and say --"

"Bye."

"-- and say how much you miss that guy and knock, knock the door will go and you will be so wondering who is in your door. And guess who it is when you open it?"

"Bye."

"It is Mazma. Mazma your comrade. Mazma your saviour. Mazma forever your friend."

"Bye."

The doors slid shut.

"North, huh?" Dragan chuckled, trying to ignore the excruciating pain in his gut. "So you're the idiot I replaced. Nice disguise."

North laughed back, cracking his shoulder for a moment -- and as he did, for a split second, the image of Underman Rose flickered over his own.

"You liked it?" he said. "Best kind of disguises are the kind that are as far away from you as possible. More challenge that way, you get me?"

Dragan raised an eyebrow, trying unsuccessfully to stand up from his slumped position. "The way I hear it," he grunted. "The best lies -- ugh -- have an element of truth to them." His leg gave way beneath him and he went sliding back down the wall.

North waved a hand dismissively, face scrunched up in distaste. "Argh, no. That shit's for casuals. You know you're really good at what you do when you can come up with pure bullshit and everyone believes it anyway, 'cause you're the one telling it. You know I ran into Skipper and Ruth before? Had a whole-ass chat with them. I came from Taldan, I said to 'em. You get it?"

"Get what?" Despite the relatively light tone of the conversation, Dragan was glaring daggers at the Umbrant.

"Well, I say that shit, and they assume I mean I'm from Taldan, you know? But all I'm really saying is that I was over there, and now I'm over here. You remember, right? That guy Chael's body double?"

Dragan nodded. Skipper's hunch had been right, then. The person covering for the Citizen back on Taldan had been North -- using the same technique he'd used to appear as Underman Rose, no doubt.

"So when I say I'm from Taldan, I'm not actually saying what they think I'm saying," North laughed, clearly more amused by this than was strictly necessary. "I love that kind of exact words shit. I mean, I think that's what I said to them, but it was a while ago. I might have actually just lied and said my family came from there."

North was obviously willing to talk about how smart he was and how easily he'd tricked everyone all day, but Dragan had neither the time nor the blood to stay and listen to it all.

"What's your point?" Dragan spat. "Was that stupid rant meant to illustrate something, or just fill the silence?"

That just inspired more of North's infuriating laughter. It wasn't even mocking -- not really, just more like he found the whole situation genuinely hilarious. "Oh, he's snarky! I didn't think Skipper's new pet would be a snarky guy. Fun!"

"You want revenge for Taldan?" Dragan said, still doing his best to keep the conversation on some sort of track. "We lost you a lucrative contract, I imagine."

"What?" North cocked his head. "Nah. This is a coincidence, pal, I swear. I got a job on this ship and you guys just happened to be here. I admit I wanted to check the new guy out, but this is just a side-hustle. Me killing time until it's time to check out, you feel me?"

He had a job on the ship? Dragan didn't have to think hard to guess what that might have been. "You set the bomb?"

North grinned. "Among other things. The Supremacy paid big to get this ship taken down, so I gotta do a good job, ya feel me?"

"You're with them, then."

"I'm being paid by 'em," North said patiently, as if explaining something very obvious to a child. "I don't go into the whole politics shit -- I'm just here for the cheddar cheese. All of this… well, it's nothing personal, right? I even saved you from this idiot." North tapped Roash's head with his foot again. "Don't that prove I ain't got malicious intentions?"

"And why should I believe that?"

Regardless of whether or not North really had just been 'killing time', it didn't do much to change the fact there was a knife sticking out of Dragan's body.

"Huh," North shrugged. "Guess you ain't really got a reason. I'm kind of a suspicious guy, after all. Anyways, that's a nasty wound you got going on there. Want some help?"

Ha. Dragan recognized a euphemism when he saw one. "No thanks."

"Nah, nah, don't be an asshole about it," North chuckled, squatting down to be level with Dragan -- and then suddenly leaning forward so that their faces were mere inches from each other. "After all, you saved me, right? Grabbed my hand and was all like 'fucking run'. Damn heroic. Think my heart might have skipped a beat."

As North spoke, the Umbrant doubling of his voice shifted -- so that the undercurrent of his speech became the high-pitched, friendly tones of Underman Rose. It was the starkest possible contrast to North's malicious grin and deceitful eyes.

Dragan did his best to move a bit further back, to put more distance between them, but that was a fruitless endeavour -- he couldn't exactly move through walls, after all.

"So, since you helped me out and all," North continued, his voice returning to normal. "I've got the whole obligation shit going on. I've gotta help you too, right?"

Dragan glared. "And how exactly would you 'help' me?" His tone was like a dagger itself.

North pouted for a moment at that reply. "Man, you're harsh. I say I wanna help you out and you act like I just shat in your sock. I told you already, I'm into that exact words shit, right? So when I tell you I wanna help you, you can trust I'm telling the truth. You get me?"

"Nice monologue. But you still haven't answered the question."

"Well," North dragged out the word as he reached into the inside pocket of his jacket. A second later, he pulled out a red metallic capsule, tossing it up and down in his hand. "Like I said, you've got a nasty looking wound there, pal. And I've got this handy supply of Panacea that's just perfect for a case such as the one you and me've got here before us. Not enough for fancy shit like restoring a limb or anything, but plenty fine for closing a stab wound. What do ya say? You wanna live or you wanna die?"

Dragan's eyes tracked the Panacea canister as North tossed it up and down, up and down. Like it or not, it seemed that going along with this impostor was the only way he was getting out of this alive.

"What're your conditions?" he said, visibly seething.

"Huh? Ain't no conditions. I'm just givin' it to you since I'm such a nice guy. You just gotta ask."

Dragan took a deep breath. "Fine. Do it."

"That ain't asking," North smirked -- and as if his demeanor wasn't smug enough, he started spinning the Panacea capsule on one finger. "You gotta be all polite and shit, you get me? Oh, Mr. North, would you please give me the capsule? If you would, I'd be ever so grateful! Say it like that, yeah? Those exact words."

Dragan gritted his teeth. His pride was screaming at him not to give in to this clown, but the cold pain spreading from his torso was recommending quite the opposite. Surely, surely it was fine to grovel just a little bit if it meant saving your own life?

"Oh, Mr. North," Dragan hissed, squeezing his eyes shut. "Would you please give me the capsule. If you would, I would be. Ever. So. Grateful."

You're dead. I'm going to kill you. I'm going to fucking kill you someday.

North grinned. "Sure thing, pal!" And with no further ado, he let the capsule slip from his fingers and land in Dragan's lap. "Hoping you can apply this yourself, 'cause I've got another place to be."

Dragan snatched the capsule away, gripping it as tightly as he could in case North changed his mind. "What?" he spat sardonically. "Our little chat isn't good enough for you?"

North stood up, cracking the joints in his fingers again as he turned away. His hand once again reached into his inside pocket -- and when it came away, it was holding some kind of transparent rebreather that he placed over his mouth.

"Wait," A chill suddenly ran down Dragan's spine. "What is that for?"

"Y'see, buddy," North said. "This little attack I'm being paid to help with's made it to the grand finale."

"And that is?"

North turned back to look at him, his smirk visible even through the mask. "You asked me if I planted the bomb that blew up the engine, right? That I did. But anyone can do a thing like that -- and you don't hire North for a job anyone can do. Nah, I had a whole grocery list. My blowing up the engine was part of that, sure…"

There was a hollow thunk from the nearest vent.

"...but so was messing around with the ship's air supply -- and it looks like we've just switched over to the tanks I managed to get to. Still, if you play your cards right, you still have a chance of getting out of here alive. Not a good chance, sure, but still a chance. I already made sure your friends were taken care of, so it's all up to you now. Have fun, okay?"

"Fuck you!" Dragan snarled.

"Buy me dinner first, man!" And with that, North began walking away, waving over his shoulder as he headed for the door. "Good luck! Do your best!"

A second later, he flickered out of vision, the only trace he'd ever been there being a single footprint in Darren Roash's blood.

And a second after that, the gas started coming in.