Recruitment on Pluto

“I… I don’t understand,” Greg stammered, his voice raspy. He looked at Enya, his eyes wide with a confusion that bordered on panic. “How? He was just… I was just there.”

Enya’s gaze was compassionate, but firm. “Syp’s influence is insidious, Greg. She doesn’t just destroy planets; she unravels them from the inside out, using the very things that make them unique against them. Your world, like so many others, had a hidden vulnerability. A capacity for… something new.”

“Something new?” Greg echoed, the word tasting foreign on his tongue. “What are you talking about? She said… she said it was jealousy. Anger. She told me to blow out Harold’s candle.” The memory of Syp’s wicked smile, her voice slithering into his ear, sent a fresh wave of nausea through him. “And I did it. I actually did it.”

“You were manipulated, Greg,” Enya said gently, placing a hand on his arm. He flinched, then leaned into the brief warmth. “You don’t know what those feelings are. You never have. Syp preyed on that ignorance. She gifted you a taste of what she calls ‘sin,’ and in your confusion, you acted. But that doesn't make you a monster. It makes you a victim, like the rest of us.”

Greg swallowed hard, the lump in his throat almost unbearable. “So… Syp killed Harold?”

Enya nodded, her expression grim. “In a way. By making you do it. By twisting your nascent emotions into a weapon. It’s her signature. She finds a planet’s deepest flaw, its unspoken resentments, and amplifies them until they consume everything.”

“But… why?” Greg asked, the question a desperate plea for understanding. “Why would she do this?”

“Because Syp craves oblivion,” Enya explained, her voice resonating with a weariness that spoke of ages. “She has witnessed the birth and death of stars, the rise and fall of civilizations, and she has grown weary of it all. She believes existence is a flawed design, a painful accident. Her purpose, as she sees it, is to correct that mistake, to return everything to the void. Earth and Pluto are the last vestiges of true life in this sector. She cannot abide that.”

Greg looked down at his hands, trembling. He had always lived in a world without pain, without hurt, a world of unblemished joy. Now, he had experienced a flicker of something dark, something destructive, and it had led to the death of his best friend. He felt a profound sense of shame, an emotion he couldn't quite name but recognized as deeply unpleasant.

“You said… you said I’m part of an alliance?” Greg asked, his voice barely a whisper. The idea of actively fighting Syp seemed impossible, a task for heroes in stories, not for a man who had just, unknowingly, committed murder.

“Yes,” Enya confirmed, her eyes meeting his with a renewed intensity. “The last hope. Syp’s power is immense, but it is not limitless. She draws her strength from a source, a focus.”

“What source?” Greg pressed, a flicker of something akin to determination igniting within him. He owed Harold this much. He owed everyone this much.

“A ruby necklace,” Enya stated, the words precise and clear. “It is the conduit through which she channels her destructive energy. If that necklace is destroyed, Syp will be diminished, perhaps even rendered powerless. And the planets she has consumed will have a chance to be restored.”

Restored. The word hung in the air, a fragile promise. Greg pictured the familiar blue marble of Earth, now marred by Syp’s machinations, and the distant, icy sphere of Pluto. He thought of the other worlds, now mere whispers in the cosmic wind.

“And you want me… to help?” Greg asked, still struggling to grasp his role in this grand, terrifying narrative. He was just Greg, the guy who showed up to parties alone.

“You have experienced the first tremor of Syp’s influence, Greg,” Enya said. “You understand, on a primal level, what she does. And more importantly, you have the potential to resist her. You can learn to navigate these new emotions, to wield them not as weapons of destruction, but as tools of understanding. You will be the bridge. And the alliance needs that bridge.”

Before Greg could fully process this, Enya stood, her movements fluid and decisive. “We must go. There is no time to waste. The others are waiting.”

A strange, disorienting sensation washed over Greg, like being plunged into icy water and then instantly warmed. The sterile room dissolved, replaced by a breathtaking vista of swirling nebulae and distant, jewel-like stars. They stood on a platform that seemed to be carved from the very fabric of space, overlooking a world bathed in an ethereal, pale light. It was Pluto, but unlike any image he had ever seen. It pulsed with a quiet, resilient energy, a testament to its inhabitants’ enduring spirit.

Two figures materialized beside them. One was a young woman, her eyes sharp and intelligent, her stance radiating a quiet confidence. The other was… a troll. A fluffy, wide-eyed creature with a shock of bright blue fur and a perpetual, gentle smile.

“Greg, this is Alex,” Enya said, gesturing to the woman. “And this is Flip.”

The woman, Alex, offered a hand. “It’s good to finally meet you. Enya has told us a lot.” Her voice was steady, warm.

Greg shook her hand, feeling a sense of camaraderie he hadn’t expected. “I… I don’t know what to say. I’m still trying to figure out what happened.”

Flip, the troll, bounced on the balls of his feet, emitting a series of guttural, musical sounds. “Horga kirka gorgon!”

Greg blinked. “What did he say?”

Alex chuckled, a light, melodic sound. “Oh, sorry. Flip’s from Saturn. His planet was destroyed by Syp a long time ago. He says, ‘Hello, it’s nice to meet you.’”

Greg stared at Flip, a strange mix of pity and awe filling him. Another victim of Syp’s insatiable hunger. “I’m sorry about your planet, Flip.”

Flip nodded solemnly, his fluffy head bobbing. “Gorga.”

“The weight of Syp’s destruction is heavy on all of us, Greg,” Enya said, her gaze sweeping across the assembled group. “But it’s also our greatest strength. We have all lost something precious. We all have a reason to fight.”

“But what can we do?” Greg asked, gesturing to himself and then to Alex and Flip. “We’re just… us.”

“You are the ones who will succeed,” Enya declared, her voice ringing with conviction. “Syp has underestimated the resilience of life, and she has underestimated the power of unity. Your task, Greg, Alex, and Flip, is to return to Earth and retrieve Syp’s necklace. You must destroy it.”

Greg felt a surge of adrenaline, a mixture of fear and exhilaration. This was it. The moment of truth.

“We’ll need a plan,” Alex said, her eyes already scanning the holographic projections that Enya was conjuring, depicting Earth’s chaotic surface. “Syp is powerful, but she’s also arrogant. She’ll be expecting us to come at her head-on. We need to be clever.”

“She’s up to no good, wherever she is,” Flip grunted, pointing a stubby finger towards a swirling vortex of energy on the projection.

“My house,” Greg said suddenly, the words tumbling out before he could think. “She… she knows I’m here. She’ll be looking for me. And my house… it’s where I first felt it. That… that feeling. Maybe she’ll go back there.”

Alex looked at him, a spark of approval in her eyes. “A good instinct, Greg. She’ll be drawn to the source of her manipulation. Let’s go.”

The disorienting sensation returned, and with it, the jarring reality of Earth. They were no longer on Pluto, but standing on a deserted street, the air thick with the acrid smell of smoke and something metallic. The sky, once a canvas of celebratory fireworks, was now a bruised, ominous purple. Chaos reigned. Distant screams mingled with the shattering of glass and the rumble of unseen destruction.

“This is… worse than I imagined,” Alex murmured, her hand instinctively going to a compact, energy-based weapon strapped to her thigh.

“Syp,” Flip whispered, his voice tinged with fear. He pointed towards a towering, makeshift throne that had appeared in the heart of what Greg recognized as Times Square. On it sat Syp, a figure of terrifying beauty, her eyes burning with a malevolent glee. She was adorned in a magnificent, flowing gown of obsidian, and around her neck, pulsing with a deep, crimson light, was the ruby necklace.

“Frojin blep vewy!” Flip exclaimed, his fur bristling.

“Yes, Flip,” Alex confirmed, her gaze locked on Syp. “That’s her. And that’s the necklace.” She turned to Greg and Flip, her expression resolute. “I’ll create a diversion. Flip, you get the necklace. Greg, you keep watch. Be ready to act if anything goes wrong.”

Greg’s heart pounded against his ribs. He was no warrior, no spy. He was just Greg. But he had to do this. He had to atone. He nodded, his gaze fixed on Syp.

“Greg, you yell at her,” Alex instructed. “Draw her attention. Make her think you’re the one who’s come to confront her directly. Buy Flip the time he needs.”

With a shared nod, they moved. Alex sprinted towards the plaza, her movements a blur of speed and agility. Greg followed, his legs pumping, his lungs burning. He positioned himself a few yards from the base of the throne, his voice, surprisingly, strong and steady.

“Hey!” he shouted, his voice echoing in the sudden, eerie lull in the surrounding destruction. “Look over here! It’s me, Greg! The man you tricked into killing his best friend!”

Syp’s head snapped towards him. A slow, wicked smile spread across her face, the same smile that had haunted his nightmares. “Greg, well, well, well. This is a surprise.” Her voice dripped with amusement. “Guards, seize him!”

From the shadows around the throne, hulking figures emerged, their eyes vacant, their movements robotic. Greg knew he was a distraction, a pawn. He focused on Flip, who was already scaling the steps to the throne, his small, furry form surprisingly nimble.

Syp’s gaze flickered between Greg and Flip. She seemed to relish the unfolding drama. “You think you can stop me, little man?” she taunted Greg. “You, who have just tasted the exquisite flavor of sin?”

As Flip reached the top of the steps, mere feet from Syp, she raised a hand. A wave of shimmering energy pulsed outwards, freezing Flip in place, his eyes wide with surprise and a flicker of fear.

“Alex, now!” Greg yelled, seeing Flip ensnared.

Alex, who had been circling the periphery, darted forward. With a burst of speed, she leaped onto the throne, her hand reaching for Syp’s neck. Syp, momentarily distracted by Greg’s taunt and Flip’s capture, was caught off guard. Alex’s fingers closed around the ruby necklace.

With a sharp tug, she ripped it from Syp’s throat. The crimson glow flickered and died. Alex didn’t hesitate. She slammed the necklace onto the stone throne, and with all her might, stomped on it.

A shattering sound, like a thousand crystals breaking at once, filled the air. The ruby, once so vibrant, crumbled into a fine, glittering dust.

Syp let out a piercing shriek, a sound of pure agony and disbelief. Her form wavered, then dissolved, her obsidian gown collapsing into a pile of dust that was quickly swept away by an unseen wind. The guards, their purpose gone, slumped to the ground, inert.

Greg felt an immediate release, as if a heavy weight had been lifted from his chest. He was no longer frozen by fear, no longer trapped by Syp’s influence. Flip, no longer under the spell, stumbled forward, letting out a relieved grunt.

Around them, the chaos began to subside. The bruised sky slowly lightened, and a sense of calm, fragile but palpable, descended upon the city. Greg knew, with a certainty that settled deep within his soul, that this was just the beginning of healing, not the end. He had played a part in undoing Syp’s destruction, and in doing so, he had begun to undo the darkness within himself. Alex offered him a weary, triumphant smile. Flip, his fluffy fur still ruffled, gave a happy, guttural sound. The Solar System, and perhaps something more profound, was safe. For now.