Apocalypse Reset: My Crab Can Heal the World!

Barns finds Roscoe sitting on the edge of a ruined fountain, arms still locked in their casts, his usual energy dulled. The night is thick and clammy, as the unnatural cold which overtook Dimartino yesterday lingers and persists. Though the kingdom is in a momentary peace, the air still carries the weight of the battle that tore through it just a day before.

Barns, alone, bid farewell to his companions just moments ago - Absalom, Eldrie, and Osmond all gone their separate ways. Now, as the hero approaches Roscoe, it's nearly midnight. It's unlike the boy to be out and about so late.

Roscoe looks up as Barns approaches, and his face lights up despite his exhaustion. "Barns!" His grin is wide, unshaken even in the face of pain as he greets his hero. "Another day in the books, huh? I can…hardly believe it…" 𝚏𝐫𝚎𝗲𝕨𝐞𝐛𝕟𝚘𝐯𝚎𝗹.𝕔𝐨𝗺

Barns folds his arms, looking over the wreckage of Dimartino Castle. It's functional - Clancy's kaiju statue holds everything firmly in place - but visually it's a wreck.

"Clancy's gone, and the barrier holds. Some Adventurers who are more adept at barriers and the like report that this barrier is as permanent as they get. But even still, Ros, you've heard of the horde, haven't you?"

The boy shifts uncomfortably. Mention of the horde sends memories flowing through him he'd rather forget. Another reminder of their kingdom's powerlessness on a grand scale.

"The horde isn't budging. And we both know it won't, not unless we make it."

Roscoe's smile falters just a little, but he nods like it's obvious. "Right. We take the fight to them, same as always. You've got a plan, I take it? I might not be much help this time…"

"I do." Barns sits beside him, gaze steady. "You're not fighting, but I need you. Rousing Resonator - your active ability. I think I need it, Roscoe. Without Clancy, I'm not confident in my ability to defeat a Zombie Lord, and this…Corpsie, they call him…he won't be an easy opponent."

Roscoe's face flashes with something between pride and anxiety. "Barns, you really think my power can make a difference!? I mean, I'm happy to…but…"

Roscoe tries to raise his arms to show his twin casts.

"I'm not…"

"I know," Barns interrupts, voice calm but firm. "I wouldn't ask if I didn't think you could do it. You've never let me down before. And I know you won't now. Is it possible? If it's not in your condition, then please don't worry. But if you can…"

For a second, Roscoe just stares at him. Then, his breath catches slightly, and Barns can see it - the reverence, the bright-eyed admiration that never quite faded, even after all they'd been through. Even though they're more akin to brothers than anything. Roscoe can't help but look up to his first and only hero.

"You really think I can make a difference?" Roscoe murmurs, voice quiet now.

Barns grips his shoulder. "I know you can."

A spark ignites behind Roscoe's tired eyes. He nods, swallowing hard, and his grin returns, though this time, it's softer. "Then I'll do it. Whatever it takes. You're the hero of Dimartino, and I won't let you down!" He laughs a little, shaking his head. "You ask for the impossible like it's nothing. But that's you, ain't it?"

Barns smirks. "Only because I know you can do it."

Roscoe exhales, shaking his head in amused disbelief. "Guess I better not disappoint you now, huh? Want to try it out?"

Barns nods. "Hell yeah."

As the two work on their synergy, the rest of Dimartino settles into their nightly routine. Osmond and Maria in particular find themselves engaged in one of their usual proclivities nearby in their castle bedroom.

Maria lies against cool silk sheets, wrists bound in red rope, the candlelight flickering over her bare skin. The scent of incense wafts through the air, embers flickering on their bedside table.

Normally, this is the part where she gives in to the moment, where she lets herself drift into the safety of sensation and commands Osmond to do his worst.

But tonight, even between all the forceful bondage, her mind and heart are miles away.

Osmond, looming above her, notices before she even says a word. His hands rest on either side of her, steady, patient. He doesn't push - not yet.

"Dove," he murmurs. "You're ruminating. You haven't even asked for the cattle prod yet. We can stop if you'd like."

Maria exhales slowly, eyes half-lidded, staring up at him. She'd sit up but her arms, legs, and neck were bound so tight she can barely move a muscle, like a bug in a web. "Dimartino is barely holding together. Our King is dead, and now Barns wants to jump right into another fight. This is insanity. This is not what I signed up for. And Nazakiel…he'll find a way back here. I can feel it."

Osmond's eyes hover over her body, admiring her contours. "And what's your alternative, my Sweet?"

She shifts against the restraints, rolling her wrists. "We take Dimartino for ourselves. You and I - we run it. I become the new Queen. It's clear Barns has no taste for ruling. If we step in now, we can salvage what's left. We've done enough saving lives. The more we push, the more we endanger all the progress we've made."

Osmond watches her carefully. Then, with agonizing slowness, he leans down until his lips are brushing against the soft inners of her thighs. His voice is a whisper, soft but unyielding. "And if I say no?"

Maria's entire body tenses. "Then you'd be a fool who forgot his place. Do you not remember who's in charge here?

The words hit deeper than she expects. She sees it - the flicker of something uncertain in his eyes.

"Osmond…would you say no to me if I did what I thought was right?

"You don't want to give up on him," Osmond continues, voice gentle. "I know you don't. But you're afraid."

Maria swallows, tilting her head back slightly, exhaling through her nose. "Fuck you. I'm not about to be psychoanalyzed by a demon."

Osmond raises his head to look directly into her eyes.

"Too late for that, love." Osmond shifts, his hands grazing down her sides. But the air between them has changed. This isn't just their usual dance. This is something new.

Maria closes her eyes briefly, as if steadying herself, then opens them again, sharp and composed. "Untie me."