Morning light filtered through the worn curtains of their inn room, casting patches of warmth across the floor. The clouds had thinned overnight, allowing glimpses of sun to brighten Thunderclap Port after yesterday's chaos. The group slept soundly, their bodies demanding rest after the battles that had pushed them to their limits.

Crimson smoke seeped from Angelo's sleeping form. It gathered and solidified into Red's familiar shape near the old television set. His trademark wild grin faltered as he glanced down at the glowing cracks still spider-webbing across his body.

"Still damaged, huh? Better recharge soon." He rolled his shoulders, his grin returning with mischievous intensity as he snatched up the TV remote. "Been way too long since I've had some proper fun!"

"This? Again?" Blue's scholarly voice echoed through their shared consciousness, heavy with exhaustion.

Red's grin widened, glancing at Angelo's sleeping form with gleeful anticipation. "Heh, heh, indeed. Again!" He turned the volume dial all the way up.

The blaring noise exploded through the room like a sonic bomb. Angelo bolted upright, eyes flashing furious orange. Sol jerked awake, hands instinctively raised in a defensive position before he realized what was happening. Neiva groaned and pulled a pillow over her head, her bright red hair sticking out in all directions.

Red danced in front of the TV, his body moving to the rhythm as he basked in the chaos he'd created.

"I SWEAR TO GOD I'LL TEAR YOU APART MOLECULE BY MOLECULE!" Angelo roared, his eyes blazing like twin flames.

"Somebody tell me this is just a nightmare," Sol muttered, rubbing his face as he tried to orient himself.

Neiva peered out from under her pillow, her voice thick with sleep. "Five more minutes... or hours... please?"

Red spun dramatically, hands on his hips. "Empty threats as usual, Angie! We both know if you actually wanted me dead—"

An orange energy tether shot across the room like a harpoon, cutting him off mid-sentence. Red twisted sideways, narrowly avoiding impalement as the tether crashed into the television. The screen broke, sending sparks flying.

"Whoops!" Red cackled, bouncing on his heels. "Look what you did to the inn's property! Just wait till management sees this! They'll probably—"

The second energy tether struck true, slicing through Red's midsection, making him dissolve into crimson smoke that streamed back into Angelo's body.

Angelo's rigid posture relaxed slightly as his aura faded. "Worth it."

The victory was short-lived. On Neiva's dresser, the pocket-sized Red figurine twitched, its tiny eyes lighting up with crimson energy. It floated upward like a puppet with invisible strings, drifting toward Angelo with jerky movements.

"Foolish mortal!" Red's thoughts boomed through Angelo's mind as the puppet gesticulated wildly. "You thought you'd vanquished me, but my loyal minion has sacrificed its free will to serve its master! Your doom approaches!"

Angelo's aura flared back to life as he swung his legs off the bed. "That's it—I'm crushing that damn puppet."

Before he could take a step, a blue streak shot between them. Neiva stood protectively in front of the pocket Red, her blue aura igniting around her with surprising intensity. She clutched the figurine to her chest, eyes glowing neon blue with determination.

"Don't you even think about it!" Her voice carried a steel edge Angelo had never heard before. "You'll have to go through me first!"

Angelo's jaw tensed, but he stepped back, extinguishing his aura with visible effort. "Tch. Fine. Keep your cursed doll."

"Well done, most loyal minion!" Red's gleeful thoughts rippled through their shared mind. "When I rule this pitiful realm, you will die last!"

Sol pushed himself upright, wincing as the movement pulled at his chest wound. His trademark confident smile returned despite the rude awakening. "You all have way too much energy for this hour. Some of us are still recovering from being skewered, remember?"

They settled into their morning routines with minimal further incidents, though Angelo's glares could have melted steel whenever the pocket Red crossed his field of vision.

As they stepped into the lobby, a figure lounging in a chair perked up at their approach. He wore a hat, a leather jacket over a skull-emblazoned T-shirt with sunglasses perched on his nose despite being indoors.

"About damn time!" he called out, pushing himself to his feet with exaggerated impatience. "What, were you planning to hibernate through winter? Been waiting forever!"

Angelo halted mid-step, recognition washing over his face. "Joe? Is that you?"

Joe flashed a rock-and-roll hand sign, his smirk widening to show perfect teeth. "In the flesh, Angel. Miss me?"

Neiva gasped, nearly bouncing in place. "Oh my god, you're Joe Blackstorm! We met at your big concert, remember? I'm Neiva!"

Joe peered over his sunglasses, giving her a once-over. "Right, right. Angel's girl. Didn't know he brought his little entourage on this field trip."

"She's my student," Angelo corrected, his voice carrying an edge that could cut glass. "Not my 'girl'."

Sol stepped forward, extending his hand with easy confidence. "Solomon Thron. Friends call me Sol." His smile was charming yet somehow challenging.

Joe squared up to him, chin raised to meet Sol's gaze despite the height difference. He ignored the outstretched hand. "Hey, pretty boy, mind hunching down a bit? Getting a crick in my neck looking up at that silver mop of yours."

Sol's smile took on a sharper edge as he straightened even taller. "Sorry, what was that? Couldn't quite hear you from down there."

Angelo dragged a hand down his face. "Perfect. Now there's two of them. All we need is Sleeser, and we'll have the complete set of insufferable egos."

Joe turned to Angelo, spreading his arms. "Seriously, Angel, what's with you collecting friends who don't worship the ground I walk on? First you, then that spiky-haired army dude, now Silver Giant here. At least you're short enough I can look down properly."

"Terribly sorry for the interruption," came a gentle voice from behind them.

They turned to find a young man with soft features and shoulder-length light brown hair. He wore square glasses and a meticulously clean green sweater and carried himself with quiet dignity.

"Brian," he introduced himself with a slight nod. "Pleasure to meet you all properly."

"But you can call him Brainy," Joe interjected with a snicker.

Brian's smile remained gentle despite the clear annoyance in his eyes. "You could call me that... please don't."

This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.

Azure smoke streamed from Angelo's body, swirling into Blue's familiar form. His posture was impeccable as he offered a formal bow. "The pleasure is entirely mine, Brian. Please accept my most sincere apologies for necessitating your journey to our present location. Rest assured, I refrain from employing such informal appellations."

"Yeah, I noticed," Sol interjected, locking eyes with Blue for a moment.

Blue simply carried on, turning to Brian. "I must express my deepest gratitude for your willingness to participate in my preliminary assessment. Your understanding is greatly appreciated."

"Not at all," Brian replied with genuine warmth. "Professor Goldstein is a brilliant man with precious little time to spare. I completely understand your need to verify my qualifications."

Joe pushed between them, making a gagging sound. "As fascinating as this nerd mating ritual is, can we please take this outside? Been stuck in this dump long enough to memorize every stain on the ceiling."

"We've been here ten minutes," Brian clarified. "But fresh air would be lovely. It appears to be quite the pleasant day outside."

The morning sun warmed their faces as they stepped outside the inn, strolling down Thunderclap Port's weathered streets. Angelo noticed something odd—locals no longer scattered at their approach. Instead, a few even nodded in their direction, a stark contrast to the cold shoulder they'd received since arriving.

"So how exactly did you track us down?" Angelo asked, eyeing Joe and Brian with suspicion. "Not like we left a trail of breadcrumbs."

Brian adjusted his glasses with careful precision. "Initially, we faced a rather odd silent treatment from the locals. Then Joe decided subtlety was overrated."

"I just casually dropped that I'm Joe Blackstorm, savior of sound and destroyer of eardrums," Joe flexed dramatically. "Suddenly this kid practically wet himself to help us. Pointed us straight to your inn when we mentioned looking for out-of-towners."

"What's with this place anyway?" Joe kicked a loose stone, watching it skitter across the cobblestones. "Everyone acts like they've got secrets stuffed in their pockets."

Sol's shook his head as he turned to Joe. "Town's under the iron grip of a gang called the Cliffhangers. They've got rules—no Auron abilities in public, no talking to outsiders, sky-high prices for travelers." His mouth quirked into a half-smile. "Basically your standard dystopian nightmare with a seaside view."

Joe threw his head back with a bark of laughter. "Rules? Well I'm not like the other guys!" He swept his arm in a theatrical arc. "I break every rule I meet!" He pointed at his chest. "I play by my own rules! But I break those too! That's why I keep backup rules!"

Brian's shoulders shook with quiet laughter while Angelo's eyebrows drew together in confusion.

"Right..." Angelo shook his head before his expression darkened. "The real threat here isn't their petty regulations, or even the small fry grants. It's their leader—Hugo. A Duoron."

Brian's eyebrows shot up above his glasses. "A Duoron? Those are extraordinarily rare."

"Indeed, we are aware of their statistical infrequency," Blue nodded, his perfect posture even more rigid than usual.

"But are you familiar with what truly gives Duorons their edge?" Brian leaned forward slightly, eyes bright with academic enthusiasm.

Neiva tucked a strand of bright red hair behind her ear. "Is it because their opponents can't predict which aura they'll use next? Like fighting a boss with random attack patterns?"

"That's certainly tactical advantage," Brian conceded with an approving nod. "But according to recent research, Duorons actually possess two distinct energy connections to the cosmic flow."

Blue's scholarly composure cracked with genuine surprise. "Extraordinary! Does this significantly impact their capabilities?"

"Dramatically so." Brian traced two parallel lines in the air. "It effectively doubles their Energy Draw Rate. Imagine having two straws in the same cosmic milkshake while everyone else has just one."

"Oh, wow!" Neiva glanced between them with wide eyes. "That's good, right?"

Sol chuckled. "It's impressive, sure, but let's keep perspective. Evolution multiplies both ECC and EDR by a factor of ten. Double isn't exactly earth-shattering compared to that."

"True," Brian nodded thoughtfully. "But compared to non-evolved Aurons, Duorons start with a significant advantage and develop faster. Although it's true that there's no documented case of a Duoron ever evolving."

"Wait, seriously?" Neiva's face scrunched in confusion. "Is that even possible? They just... can't?"

Even Angelo's stern expression softened with curiosity as Brian shook his head.

"In theory, it should be possible," Brian explained, making small gestures with his hands. "Research suggests that energy connections aren't directly related to the evolution mechanism, so having two shouldn't prevent it."

Blue steepled his fingers, his gaze distant with calculation. "Perhaps the impediment stems from the psychological makeup of individuals possessing dual energy connections. Their inherent advantage over standard Aurons could create a cognitive barrier to evolutionary catalysts."

Sol snapped his fingers, eyes brightening with realization. "You mean they don't evolve because they never truly believe they're about to die? They always have that extra aura as a safety net?"

"Precisely." Brian nodded. "That's the prevailing theory among researchers."

Angelo's patience visibly thinned. "Fascinating lecture, but how strong is Hugo actually?"

"That depends—how old would you estimate him to be?" Brian asked.

Angelo's brow furrowed in concentration. "Hard to say. His hair's going gray, beard too. Forties? Maybe fifties?"

Brian whistled softly. "Duorons typically scale exceptionally well with age. Each year compounds their advantage. If he's that old, I'd wager he's quite formidable indeed."

"I hate to derail this thrilling scientific discussion," Joe interrupted, dramatically throwing his hands up.

"No, you don't," Brian replied flatly.

"No, I don't," Joe admitted with a grin. "But where's the crimson chaos machine? I've been dying to see Blood Red again!"

Angelo sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Red is... temporarily grounded. So to speak."

"Thanks to a CERTAIN someone," Red's voice echoed through their shared mental link.

"Shut it," Angelo muttered under his breath.

Joe scuffed his boots against the cobblestones, disappointment etched across his face. "Man, that sucks! I wrote this killer song about him. Was gonna premiere it right here!"

"You're kidding me!" Red's mental voice exploded with frustration. "Of all the times to be on cooldown! Wait—I've got it!"

Without warning, Neiva's pocket bulged as the crimson figurine shot out, dragging her phone along with it. The tiny Red puppet hovered midair, bobbing excitedly.

"Hey! That's my phone!" Neiva lunged for the puppet, but it darted just beyond her reach, performing a mocking dance in the air.

"The great Blood Red graces you with his presence, rock boy!" Red's thoughts boomed in Angelo's mind while the puppet made exaggerated bowing gestures.

Joe pointed at the floating toy, bewilderment replacing his usual cocky expression. "What the hell is that thing?"

Angelo deliberately turned away, refusing to acknowledge the spectacle.

"That's my pocket Red," Neiva explained, making another grab for the figurine. "Though he's being extra restless today."

Blue cleared his throat, adjusting his non-existent tie. "This phenomenon is another subject I intended to discuss with Professor Goldstein. Red appears to have developed a method of projecting his consciousness into his energy constructs. The implications are quite fascinating from a theoretical standpoint."

Brian's mouth fell open in genuine shock. Joe jabbed a finger at the puppet. "Hold up—you're telling me that little doll is actually Red himself?"

"Indeed it is I! Now you can share your song of praise!" The puppet nodded enthusiastically, performing a theatrical bow followed by a series of wild gestures.

"He says it's him, and he wants to hear your song," Angelo shared Red's words with undisguised irritation.

Joe squinted at the puppet. "How can you possibly understand those random movements?"

Angelo rolled his eyes, crossing his arms over his chest. "I don't need to. We share a consciousness, remember? I hear every insufferable thought in his head. If there's one thing Red doesn't know how to do, it's shut up."

The pocket Red nodded vigorously, giving two enthusiastic thumbs up.

Joe and Brian exchanged stunned glances. "You can hear each other's thoughts?" Joe asked as Brian murmured, "Absolutely remarkable..."

"Yes," Angelo snapped, patience clearly evaporating. "So are you playing that song or what?"

Joe's trademark smirk returned as he shook his head. "Nah, I'll wait till Red can show up in person. Want to see his face when he hears it." He winked at the puppet. "Gotta have the full experience, you know?"

"Fine." Angelo turned abruptly, gravel crunching under his boots. "As thrilling as this reunion has been, we have business to attend to. Let's go."

Blue turned to Neiva, his scholarly gaze softening slightly. "You'll be joining us as well." He cast a meaningful look at Angelo's retreating back, though Angelo didn't acknowledge it.

Blue faced Brian once more, his posture impeccable. "My preliminary assessment is quite favorable. Perhaps we could engage in further discussion this evening to explore your scientific background in greater depth?"

"Absolutely," Brian's warm smile lit his face. "I look forward to our conversation."

The pocket Red zoomed back to Neiva, allowing her to finally recapture both it and her phone before they headed after Angelo, making their way toward the cliffs overlooking the ocean.

Sol slipped his hands into his silver jacket pockets, rocking back on his heels. "I've got my own leads to follow. I'll catch up with you all later." He offered a casual two-fingered salute before turning to leave.

"You've got to be kidding me!" Joe threw his hands up in exasperation. "You drag me all the way out to this backwater town, and now everyone's ditching me? That's ice cold!"

Sol paused, glancing back over his shoulder with a razor-sharp smile. "Funny, I distinctly remember Angelo telling you NOT to come. Must have misheard." With that parting shot, he strolled away.

"He's got you there," Brian said once Sol was out of earshot.

Joe crossed his arms, his cocky grin returning as he gazed at the horizon. "Don't sweat it, Brainy. This trip's gonna be worth it—I can feel it in my bones."

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