Chapter 1

In the middle of the desert, on top of a hoodoo, was a sandstone pedestal that proudly held the secluded city of the Frontier. The civilians were a city of Things, but a not so modest group of them that enjoyed being useful as much as possible. There were other groups of Things on the neighboring mesa, sure, but the Things of the Frontier were far more advanced. So that made them more interesting and important. The Things of the Frontier say their success comes from two main factors:

- They traded with outsiders but never ever let any in!

Which meant:

- Their simple social scale! You’re either Nothing or you’re Something! If you were broken and useless, you were considered a Nothing. If you were the best in your job field, you’d become Something!

Technically there were a myriad of other subclasses but being Something was all the rage. Everything in the Frontier looked up to the Somethings and wanted to be a Something. Why wouldn’t you want to be the best? Respect? Glamour? The best pick of the fancy houses? Isn’t your whole life meant to revolve around accomplishment?

Recently, however, the Citizens weren’t so sure anymore. One of their Somethings had gone missing! The Frontier was secluded and they were important! How could they just vanish? If a Thing as important as a Something could go missing with no notice, what could happen to them as a lesser Thing?

“Never in the history of the Frontier has everything come together like this before!” rang the radio host’s voice throughout the Frontier. He would’ve been pleased to hear himself through all the open windows and doors. All on his channel. “I, Quincy the Something of Broadcasting, - who is always on your side- is at your service to tell you the latest about the missing case we call the ‘Derby Disappearance’ about that new hire- Derby H. Bowler! It seems, once again, that I have no news for you! Our leader, Frederick Fedora, ain’t said peep and let me tell you, this is getting rough for everything here in the Frontier!”

No news today once more. Things of all classes were gathered around the fountain in the courtyard of the Somethings headquarters. It was a grand, giant building in the center of town that was surrounded by the finest sandstone on the pedestal. It was ornately carved with the history of the Frontier and metal plates signed with previous leaders, Somethings, and other outstanding Things of Frontier history.

Things that were broken, Things that were elaborately decorated, Things that were still dirty from work - They were all here. All except the Somethings and their Leader who holed himself away.

A higher class Thing who was the shape of a broom, twirled their fancy parasol and sniffed judgmentally. “Hmf! If a Something goes missing does their leader make a sound? I think not.” scoffed Broomington. “I mean really? What’s the point of going through all that work if you’re not guaranteed security!”

“That’s because our hero, Frederick Fedora, is a joke! Who'da thunk that old relic of a hero would cower now?” said the Strangely Strong Spork. He flexed his biceps in anger.

“It’s because Derby was a Nothing!” spat Hammy the Hammer. “REMEMBER. Those nepotistic wash rags wanted only their friends apart of their little group-”

“I take offense to that.” said Washragginton.

She continued. “Now they’re gone! POOF! It’s no coincidence. The higher ups don’t want anything lower than them to be Something.”

“Whaddya mean? They were another one of Frederick’s ‘heroic and charitable’ ideas to make the Frontier a ‘better’ place!” said the Strangely Strong Spork. His triceps shivered down to his quads. “We didn’t want that Raptor or that criminal Farthing! He’s trying to change up our whole system!”

“He even let them work for the Somethings, despite our protests.” huffed Broomington. “Is Frederick even listening to us?!”

He hadn’t been actually, but that didn’t mean he didn’t care. In fact, he tuned everything out because he was deep in thought at his desk. His office towered over the other buildings.

Frederick Fedora was in the tallest building, on the tallest hoodoo on top of the nicest pedestal in the highest class in the biggest city of the entire Mesa yet he couldn’t possibly feel lower, smaller, and so insignificant.

From where he sat, he could look past the Frontier, run his eyes along the land bridge and into Mesatown where he was from. His mind was not on the protestors on the ground but past them into the memories on the Grand Mesa.

He ran a hand over the faded top of his head to remind himself that those times were gone now. He could’ve looked behind him to see all these old trophies and photographs. Still, it was easy to escape to the good ole heroic days from thoughts alone. Pictures just brought up old faces and names which led to other memories that he didn’t care for anymore. In his thoughts, not the pictures, that old life was so simple. Catch the bad guy, get rewarded. Repeat. He did that for the longest time until he turned his eyes onto that city on top of the hoodoo on top of a pedestal…

Nope. Shouldn’t have done this. Shoulda stayed in the desert and let the Frontier be untouched. No use in trying to change some place that didn’t want to be changed to begin with…

Wait. No!

His fist came down hard on the desk, sending pens and paper into the air for a moment. The little decorated vase fell off the edge and smashed.

That’s not true. This place was a mess and still is! The “Lesser” Things deserved better… But what had happened…. What he knew…

“Sir, it’s Nutcase again.” Frederick’s heart jumped onto his tonsils from the from the sudden voice. It was Coughy, his personal security guard. He was one of Frederick’s “heroic and charitable” ideas that was heavily criticized by the public.

If Sunny “Coughy” Brew had been born in the Frontier, he’d have been a Nothing, marked by his broken handle and shattered rim that left a nasty crack across his face. He also had a permanent smoker’s cough. Why else would he have a nickname like Coughy? This mug was from the Grand Mesa, outside the Frontier - a Farthing.

Coughy was one of those shady looking characters with a mysterious past that only his boss seemed to know about. Any prodding fingers and nosey noses were shooed away by Frederick because he believed this Thing deserved privacy like any other Thing. What was respect was confused with aversion by the public so they assumed Coughy was some sort of outlaw thug that had a horrible murderous past.

In fact, he was harmless, not because he was mild mannered but rather because he was lazy and uninspired. He was also just plain rude. Frederick thought he could help him by giving him a job in the building (safe from the angry mobs), a decent wage, and the basics with food and shelter that perhaps Coughy would let up a bit.

Yet, despite the privilege of working alongside the highest class and the honor of having the trust of the Leader, Coughy was unphased. Even now, he referred to a very important Something with some sort of rude nickname instead of their proper name or title.

“Nutcase?” asked Frederick.

“Four-Eyes or the Thing of Shrinks or whatever.”

“That’s ‘Mr.Coir’ to you, Coughy. Learn your place!” hissed Frederick. “And just turn him away again! Tell him I’m working on it.”

“Why turn me away?” said the voice Frederick did not want to hear. Douglas Coir pushed his way past Coughy to march up to Frederick.

“Douglas, I’m working on it.” grumped Frederick and he turned his back to him to stare at the Grand Mesa once more.

Douglas had to duck under the doorway to approach Frederick since he towered over everything in the Frontier. He was the tallest Thing in the entire Frontier.

Douglas Coir was covered in brown, wiry hair and stood at least two heads taller than anything else. His head was large, round and circular. As if he couldn’t be more strange, there was another round shape on the front of his face, like a big awkward nose and it appeared to have a face on it. The Things of the Frontier pretended to not pay attention to it. It kind of freaked them out. Coughy was the only Thing with the guff to call him ‘four eyes’ even though he did not wear glasses.

Whenever Douglas was asked about what kind of Thing he was, his reply was short and the same. “Coconut and please do not ask more.

Not a Thing knew what that was and it sounded more like nonsense but Douglas was so respectable that they took the hint. He wasn’t just a Something but he was a Something Twiceover! Just like his father, he also became the Something of Psychiatry, but his passions grew beyond that and he ended up delving into forensics. This led to pioneering a new form of work which he promptly called Criminal Psychology.

What kind of criminals needed to be understood and not punished? Only Douglas Coir could imagine! Things of the Frontier normally didn’t have such patience and preferred a gathered evening at the gallows. Frederick trusted him and, thanks to that, the results of his work spoke for themselves as the crime rate plummeted and the laws were changed to be more just and fair.

He was also a voice of reason for Frederick when he could be, much like he was trying to be now.

“Sir, at least tell them you have some sort of plan.” pleaded Douglas.

“I’m working on it.” Frederick said again without turning around.

“Sir, please, you can’t keep-”

“Coughy, escort him out.”

“C’mon, Mr.Coir.” gently urged Coughy then nastily hacking to clear his throat. “Y’eard the hat.”

“The protestors are showing signs of hostility!” Douglas warned.

“I know.” responded Frederick without turning around to face him.

“We need to show them some kind of acknowledgement.”

“I know. I’m working on a plan!” spat Frederick. “Now leave.”

Douglas was flabbergasted and his jaw hinged up and down. No words- only shock! His fists were clenched and he ran his thumb over his knuckles to soothe himself.

“You can’t possibly be tossing in the towel now!” wailed Douglas. He grabbed the back of Frederick’s swiveling chair and flung him around. “Not after what I’ve seen! Now after what I hid for you!”

Frederick only gazed at Douglas with an empty, helpless stare. Did this mean defeat? No, Douglas could read him like a book. He was cowering and that alone was almost enough to frighten him. After all he had done that betrayed the citizens in hope of results was fruitless!

Derby H. Bowler was eager to work and showed full pride in it! They always showed up early, so when they didn’t show up, it was worrisome. Days passed and some had assumed Derby simply quit. That wasn’t likely though. Why would a Nothing who had worked so hard to become Something simply abandon their new job?

Douglas had personally taken up Derby’s case with only Frederick’s knowledge. He didn’t fear the citizens like the other Somethings did. Citizens had already made their own general searches around the Frontier for Derby but Douglas had a keener eye for detail and Derby’s old contacts. He’d risk his fuzzy hide no problem if it meant this would all end.

From his research, there seemed to be no apparent family that Derby was in contact with, so that was a dead end. They had some close acquaintances at the library and their old college but that all led to more dead ends.

The young hat seemed to have their life to themselves. In his mind, it was normal for nervousness to set in at a new job especially on your own. The Somethings weren’t going to bother because it wasn’t their job to check on Derby, but Douglas was the only one amongst them that had been worried.

It was time for a wellness check at Derby’s home. Douglas was hoping to find them, probably anxious and hiding in blankets, so he could encourage them to recuperate enough to come to work. Derby had refreshing energy to the dull, snooty atmosphere the Somethings had developed. They were modest, passionate, and didn’t come from wealth. It would be such a shame if Derby was gone from their class.

Derby’s home was still the traditional Frontier townhouse that most of the non-Nothings had. There wasn't a lot of room on the pedestal that held the Frontier so it sat between two other townhouses. All of them are the same, tall and narrow with a small yard in the front.

The yards were no longer and wider than a grave. There was no grass like the yards of the Somethings but it had many colorful rocks. Some were even hand painted and placed thoughtfully around. There were paintings of flowers and many with grass, almost as if Derby was trying to manifest a yard full of vegetation.

Douglas knocked and the door gently swung open.

"Derby? Are you here?” he called out. “It’s me. Douglas Coir."

Douglas’ head barely missed the chandelier hanging in the foyer as he stepped in. In front of him was a long hallway and at the end was a pillar of sunlight and in its rays on the floor was what he had hidden on behalf of Frederick this whole time. Douglas couldn’t believe what he had found! He wasn’t entirely sure what it meant, but he knew Frederick would know.

No hesitation and no time to waste, he took it straight to him! Instead of answers, the old fedora immediately withered and went completely silent. Since then, he kept himself in his office and refused to come out. Maybe it was to figure out what happened or to come up with a plan or ... Well, who knows. His answer changed every time anything asked.

Now can you see why the Frontier became annoyed to the point they’re at now.

Coughy coughed into his hand. Not his usual smoker’s cough but the kind to break tension. Douglas and Frederick looked away from each other to him. The mug was standing at the window Frederick was staring out of earlier and gazing down into the crowd. It certainly had become louder since they were paying attention last. They both stood by Coughy to gaze down with him. The crowd was not just protesting now but starting to vandalize the courtyard.

“Frederick, you need to talk to them!” pleaded Douglas.

“I- I can't!” cried Frederick.

“Why not?”

“Because I can’t save Derby!” he admitted.

“...You know what happened to them!” gawked Douglas. “You weren’t spending all this time figuring it out! YOU KNEW!”

Douglas’ anger nearly matched the crowds but before he could say another word he was interrupted.

“Actually, they’re angry at me again.” said a small, teal Raptor behind them.

“Coughy!” scolded Frederick. “You're supposed to be guarding the door! Stop letting people in!”

“I was distracted by the drama!”

Douglas studied the angry crowd. His brows lifted in concern. “Oh deary me, Frederick, they really are blaming Caesar again.”

“Which means we’re nearly at full circle with this protest!” beamed Coughy. “Good!”

“‘Good’?!”

“Because this is what happens at the end of every protest!” explained Coughy. “They get angry about some asinine decision Frederick made, then they protest, then they blame Caesar and THEN they wear themselves out. It happens every time!”

Caesar always wore the same expression - emotionless paired with a rather bored demeanor. Even Douglas could rarely tell what he was really feeling. The raptor was about half the height of an average Thing and rather scrawny. Raptors normally had rather nice plumage but his feathers were short and piled thinly along his limbs. They were markless and weren’t very pretty, except for their pleasant teal color.

Things of the Frontier were scared of the Raptors for their teeth and claws. At least Caesar’s fangs were tucked neatly in his mouth unlike some Raptors he knew but his dew claws stuck out like black wasp stingers. He always made sure they were well trimmed but, in the Frontier, Caesar wished he could hide them as well as he could his teeth.

“Goodness, were you able to eat today?” asked Douglas.

Caesar nodded but Douglas learned to read this as “Ate a little, probably kept it down. Didn’t eat enough.” He often had to use his skills to read body language the best he could for difficult patients. Most of his conversations with Caesar were like this.

“Did you take your meds?”

Caesar nodded again which he read as “Yes, I didn’t flush them this time and have been taking them accordingly and as prescribed even though the side effects are terrible.”

Frederick walked over to his window and cracked it to get an audible glimpse of what was happening below. The crowds were chanting and holding up signs that showed their target had certainly changed from Frederick to Caesar.

“We know what happened!” the crowd cried. “It’s the Raptor! The Raptor must’ve eaten Derby!”

“Oh, Loopy Arches on the Western Hoodoos,” groaned Frederick, rubbing his hands down his face till his eyes stretched.

“They usually blame him for every other inconvenience but not kidnapping or potential murder yet. Just vandalism, fires, stagecoach accidents...” sighed Douglas. “This will be a challenge to untangle, my friend.”

“Should I go to the bunker?” asked Caesar. While his expression remained unchanged, his feathers dropped a little further. He attempted to get up from his seat but was having a hard time lifting himself and his arms shook from the stress.

“You’re going to have to find better food for him! ” spat Douglas. “He can’t keep eating Thing food. It’s just making him sicker.”

“Perhaps the leather chairs are closer to his natural diet?” asked Coughy.

“We can’t have him eating meat here! The citizens need to know that Raptors can live just fine here and be civil!”

“You can’t just keep giving him medication till he can magickally change! You have to do better!”

“Speaking of which, Caesar, you took your meds, right?” asked Frederick.

“Today I have, but I’ve been rationing them.”

“Rationing? Why?”

“Since the protests started, not a Thing has been able to bring them to me.”

Caesar never left the Somethings building because the Things of the Frontier felt so hostile toward him. Until their feelings changed, he was meant to live in the Somethings Headquarters. That was one of the many situations in the Frontier that Frederick had meant to change.

“Frederick, this won’t just pass. You know what happened to Derby. I know you do! I beg you to look at Caesar and honestly tell yourself that taking no action is helping him somehow.” pleaded Douglas. “Whatever you’re fearing, it will only get worse if you keep ignoring it.”

Douglas, finally, said what Frederick needed to hear. A sudden realization in his heart went through his stomach and down into his boots so hard that it bounced back up into his head. He had to be a hero again. He NEEDED to be.

“I’m calling a meeting!” Frederick, Leader of the Frontier, cried. “Gather everything! You wanted action, you’re going to get action! I’ve got a fire in my belly!”

And so a meeting of the Somethings was called.

The Somethings' Meeting Lounge was a large room with an extensive and ornate table made from a rare material called ‘Oak’. To match the table had elaborate but comfy looking seats for each of the Somethings. The names of every Something, including Derby, engraved on the backs of them. Derby’s name was still fresh in the wood, the polish shiny and the cushion untouched since there was no Derby since it was placed there. It was supposed to be their surprise the morning they didn’t turn up for work. Normally at these meetings, everything was in its place but, this time, almost all the seats were empty and Derby’s stuck out like a sore thumb.

“THIS IS IT?!” gawked Frederick, his voice echoing down the room. He held a clipboard in his hand ready to take a roll call.

“Afraid so.” mumbled Douglas in his spot next to Frederick.

“DUH!” spat the annoying voice of Amos Samuels. “Somethings are literally quitting the highest class in the Frontier over this nonsense!”

Amos was a peculiar Thing, almost as much as Douglas Coir. He was a Thing that was never seen before and his origins were completely unknown. No known family. He just seemed to exist one day but his usefulness made the Frontier not question it. He called himself a ‘satellite dish’. His head was a metallic, round hollow half sphere and in the center stuck out some kind of antennae with a mouth on it. Amos had no facial features but he was still easy to understand. He was never one to caterwaul quietly and was very opinionated. The head floated while supporting a lab coat and he had two gloved hands but he appeared to have no visible body. Since he floated, he made sure to always be the tallest Thing in the room, even taller than Douglas. Especially taller than Douglas. Always.

His reputation completely outshined all the other Somethings and was given direct credit for the recent technological advancements of the Frontier. So it didn’t matter what his past story was when he was ever so impressive in the present.

Amos Samuels’ story was also similar to Douglas Coir in another way. They were BOTH Something twice over. Not only did Amos become Something twice over but he did it far faster than Douglas. So, he sat near the end of the table next to Frederick just across from him.

“Not everything could show up with the, er, demonstration going on outside.” said a brick named Rickmick McBrickman. He looked pretty much as you would imagine him. A red brick with arms and legs, but the surprising part was that he wore a hat.

“I heard rumors of beheadings?” said Dewey Cirrus, a cloud who loved to wear pastel suits. She tugged anxiously at her mint green bowtie. She talked even softer than Douglas did in the true tone of introvert. “So, I spent the night under my desk. That’s why I could show up.”

A chorus of “Me too.” “I slept in the lobby.” and so on followed.

“Mr. Fedora, what were you expecting?” snapped Quincy. “To goose step in unison like an army to your office?!” He was the Something that was on the broadcast earlier. He also liked to wear colorful suits, but ones of an intrusive manner that hurt the eyes. Shoulder pads and all. Quincy was nearly as pompous and arrogant as Amos.

“That’s not what I was expect-” Frederick started but Quincy continued.

“First, you betrayed us noble Somethings by hiring that Nothing. Then gave a blow to every other class in the Frontier by letting it go missing! The Thing that went missing was particularly important to those Nothings!”

“The Thing in question,” began Douglas smoothly. “was important to all of us and to prove that anything can become Something. Not just those born into it!”

Douglas glared at Quincy severely enough that the radio’s antennas flopped like guilty rabbit ears. Quincy in particular had been in the family that had been the Somethings of Broadcasting for generations now. Probably since the beginning of the Frontier! Douglas bore the point in further.

“Nepotism plagues the industry of Somethings. When the previous archivist left, we were given an opportunity. Derby was important to us, whether you like it or not!”

“Whatever, Mr.Coulda-Been-Something-Thriceover.” jeered Amos.

“ENOUGH Y’ALL!” interjected Frederick. The slap of the clipboard being smacked against the table caught everything’s attention. The leader then clicked his pen. “Let’s kick this meeting off with who DID show up.” He sighed and tried to change the mood. “Listen, I know times are more than tough right but I truly appreciate anything that showed up regardless to join this meeting.

There was silence.

“Yeah but we’re just here because we couldn’t go ho-”

“QUINCY, Something of Broadcasting, is here I hear.” checked Frederick.

“Amos Samuels, Somethings of Engineering and Frontier Security.”

Amos quickly hid his flask and held his dish high at the recognition of both his titles. Frederick continued. “And his assistant, Caesar Swift."

"Dewey Cirrus, Something of Meteorology."

"RickMick McBrickman, Something of Water Management!"

"Douglas Coir, Somethings of Forensics and Psychiatry. And last but not least, Sunny Brew, my personal security.”

“YES, last AND least!” scoffed Quincy, “Coughy is not a Something and neither is Caesar. What are you naming them for? They’re not even citizens! They’re not even Nothings!”

“Hey, I stayed here out of integrity when they started pushing light posts over and not because I got stuck in here!” insisted Coughy. “And also not because I live here.”

“Oh please, you’re just another outsider Farthing that Frederick brought in like that Raptor.” said Quincy, rolling his dials at him. “And Der- was Derby a Farthing or just a Nothing? I can’t remember.”

“They were just a NOTHING who took that NOTHING job.” laughed Amos. “Something of Archives. How stupid!”

“We both applied for tha-” Douglas started.

“KNOCK IT OFF!” yelled Frederick. “Everything counts right now! A Something has been kidnapped from the Frontier, our city is in shambles, and we can’t even go home!”

“How is that my problem?” spat Quincy.

“Wait. Kidnapped from the Frontier?” asked RickMick. “How do you know that?”

Frederick began to stammer. “I-i may…know what happened to Derby.”

“Certainly they haven’t been taken FROM the Frontier!” scoffed Amos. “Not a Thing or Raptor can get in or out! I make sure of that.”

“Hate to burst your bubble, Amos.” said Douglas gloomily, who would normally feel very good about proving Amos wrong. “We have proof of otherwise.”

If Amos had eyes, they would have been viciously narrowed at him. “Go on then!” huffed Amos. “Show us this ‘proof’!”

“Alrighty then. Derby’s home was investigated after they disappeared.” explained Frederick as he reached into his coat pocket. He then pulled out that telling clue Douglas had found. Frederick held it up for everything to see which led to a collective gasp of horror.

Minds are fickle and without context it wouldn’t have been scary at all. What Frederick held was simply… a feather.

“That’s impossible!” wailed Quincy.

“A Raptor has taken Derby?!” cried Dewey. “They’ve probably been tortured an-and eaten! …No offense, Caesar.”

It was a single rather large, brown feather with a neat lacing of orange on its edge. It was clearly not like any bird or Raptor in the Frontier- the current and only being teal and very small. This feather must’ve come from a creature that was massive. It was surprising they managed to get inside Derby’s apartment without ripping it apart and without being spotted.

“Psh-aw!” scoffed Amos. “That’s a SWANSTRITCH feather! It probably fell out of a duster or pillow!”

“May the hoodoo crumble underneath us if I can’t tell the difference between a Raptor and swanstritch feather!” growled Frederick.

Swanstritches were large, flightless birds that were hardy and strong. They were domesticated for riding, pulling carriages and their feathers. Some were bred to be more dainty and pretty for the fancier parts of the Frontier and some were larger and meant for riding. Their feathers were often used for decoration or more useful purposes like for dusters or stuffing pillows. Still, Frederick was right. This feather wasn’t like any breed of swanstritch.

“This is a serious security measure, Amos! You of all Things should be showing the most concern, Mr. Something-of-Security.” sneered Douglas with the most potent venom.

Amos shrugged carelessly. “It still doesn’t tell us what happened.”

“I’m afraid it does.” said Frederick. He placed the feather on the table.

In all this time of the Frontier’s existence, there was never a break in. Never a kidnapping. Never a Thing out of place. Originally, the idea of a break in was ridiculous but a break in, a kidnapping, and then barely leaving a clue. Well, before this incident, that WAS preposterous. The Frontier could sleep soundly every night when it was still preposterous but now all that comfort would be gone.

After a moment of silence, Quincy spoke up. “It IS Caesar, isn’t it?!”

“Look at him! He’s as tall as I am! Nary a feather bigger than my hand!” countered RickMick McBrickman.

“He’s also BLUE.” added Dewey Cirrus.

Caesar slowly started to sink into his seat that was next to Amos’- a small folding chair that didn’t have his name on it. Slowly, his head disappeared behind the table while the Somethings bickered again.

“It’s not Caesar!” assured Frederick. His voice turned very grave. “But the feather does tell me who and what is behind this. I’m afraid an old, old rival of mine is causing trouble again.”

“Oh, goodness me. Who?” Amos asked in an amused voice as he fidgeted for an item in his coat. Douglas guessed it was for his flask again.

“You’re talking about who I think you’re talking about, are you?” asked Dewey Cirrus, her cloudy head turning into a nervous mist.

“I thought you said that bozo was under control!” hissed RickMick.

“He has been! He’s been selling coal to us without trouble for ages now. No theft, no murder, no rustling - whatever!”

“Hmm, for those of us unaware, who are you talking about?” asked Amos.

Frederick didn’t even bother to look at him out of annoyance. “Marian the Marauder!”

When he spoke, he realized that he had heard his own voice twice. That was strange and he looked around to see that Amos had a weird device plugged into the base of his satellite dish head.

“Amos, what is that?!” asked Douglas.

Douglas heard his own voice come out of Quincy’s head. Quincy now realized it was HIS volume that was up and turned it down with a look of embarrassment. Some Thing or Something must have turned it up when he wasn’t paying attention! That wretched Amos!

“It’s called a microphone, milk brain! We’re live!” snickered Amos.

“You’ve been broadcasting this?! This is a private meeting!” gawked Frederick.

“I thought this meeting was about making a plan to help the public!” said Amos.

“This meeting was about saving Derby!” growled Douglas and he reached over swiftly and ripped the microphone cord right out of Amos’ head.

“Well! I never!” Amos cried while rubbing the socket as if it was sore.

“How long have you been able to do THAT?”

“It’s just for emergencies like this!”

A rock smashed through the window and the sounds bled through the opening. The protests had turned into a cacophony of rage. It was what everything had feared. The crowds were now uncontrollable and the Somethings were done with.

“Frederick! WE’VE HAD ENOUGH OF YOU!” cried the crowd.

Frederick walked to the shattered window and gazed down at the riot. This was all his fault. He was ready to accept that and take action, but he had to think of a plan fast.

“Things of the Frontier. Please listen!”

The Things responded by screaming more and then kicking down a light post.

“Amos, the microphone, please.”

Douglas started fighting with Amos and had him pinned down the desk. Eventually, Douglas plugged the microphone back in and handed it to Frederick so he could be heard better. The cord was pulled tight since Amos stubbornly sat with his arms crossed and refused budge.

The Leader of the Frontier spoke “I have not been fair to y’all. I have been acting cowardly and foolish. I knew what had happened to Derby and I was not ready to accept what happened. But the meeting you just heard was about taking action to save Derby!”

A Thing from the crowd cried out “Is it true Marian the Marauder is back?!”

“N-no!” assured Frederick. “Marian has always been good to his word since we started business.”

“Bologney!” spat a Thing.

“Show us the feather!” cried the crowd. The all began to chorus “SHOW US! SHOW US! SHOW US!”

Frederick looked back at Douglas with a helpless expression. The tall Thing walked over, picked up the feather and handed it to Frederick. When it was held up for the crowd to see, the citizens instantly started to panic.

A Raptor had truly made it into the Frontier. A fox that had made it into the chicken coop. Suddenly their fortress in the middle of the desert, on top of a hoodoo, on a sandstone pedestal that proudly held their secluded city wasn’t so safe anymore.

What would make them feel safe again? For starters, maybe get rid of the outsiders who always seemed to cause the problems. In a riot of rage, the Things managed to break into the building and rampaged until they reached the Something’s conference room. There they scooped up the outsiders - the mug, the raptor and the old hat.

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