Hey ya'll. It's been a while, hasn't it? I can't believe its been almost 7 years since I started this story. This was one of the first things I ever wrote, and its what began this whole crazy thing. I love this story. It's my origin story, in a way. Honestly, I didn't think anyone would ever read it, and here we are 7 years later with over 60,000 views (I gotta tell you, that number kinda freaked me out ;-:). So we have several options before, to anyone who's still interested. First off, I can leave the beginning of this story how it is and continue writing. Second, I can just end the story here and start completely over as a new story/just abandon it. Or, thirdly, I can revamp it, rewrite the plot holes and the bad grammar.

Honestly, option 3 would be my pick. (While it might take a while, I can write longer chapters, actually develop a plot, and not confuse everyone with code names). I'll keep the story here and just rewrite it a bit. Bug me all the time tho. PLEASE. I often lose track of what I'm writing since I'm also trying to write my own stories now on top of my many college commitments that I didn't think through. If you have any constructional criticism, I'm open to hearing it. I barely wrote at all in the last three months because I basically had no free time and little internet connection. Soooo. My writing skills are a suffering a little rn.

Either way, I love y'all so much! Thank you for supporting me, even when my writing sucked, and giving me feedback. I know its been a while, so I decided to write a short snippet of a possible scene in a chapter. Honestly, I made the scenario up in my head and went with it. This is what you'll get if you choose option 3 ;) ...On second thought, this might end up being the prolog...

The black tower loomed ominously over the village, black puffs of smoke rising from the chimneys. A storm circled overhead, the pouring rain carried by the howling winds. Thunder growled, and lightning hissed, striking the spire of the tower. Dead trees lined the streets, flowers wilted in gardens that once used to glisten in the sunlight.

"Looks rather ominous, don't you think?" The bartender said to the cloaked stranger, wiping down the counter with a rag.

The stranger shrugged, hood pulled low over his head as he clutched a glass of water. The bartender thought the fellow was a bit young to be out on his own, but it wasn't like there were any other customers to bother him. Ever since the dark witch of Romania had raised the black tower out of the ground, people had been disappearing left and right. People rarely ventured out at night, choosing to hide in their homes with the windows and doors bolted tight, those with wards hiding in domes of magic. Business was bad, but the bartender didn't worry much. There was always a hero to rise up against the villain. It was just a matter of time.

In any case, the young man had set down several Sickles, for what, the bartender was unsure, and seemed content to sit inside, away from the storm. He wasn't bad company, and his romanian was only slightly accented.

Shrugging, the bartender set the rag down, reaching under the counter for a bottle of butterbeer. The door slammed open moments later, making him jump and hit his head on the underside of the wooden countertop. Cursing, he stood up, rubbing his head.

A young woman marched into his bar, scowling and dripping wet beneath a similar cloak to his cloaked stranger.

"Shadow, you idiot! I told you to wait until Mist and I were done with Dovell."

The cloaked stranger sighed, turning to face her resignedly. "But I finished a half hour ago. Besides, she was pretty terrible at magic. Seemed to think a staff and a wand worked exactly the same."

"She still has magic," the woman said exasperatedly, "and you know staff magic is Mist's specialty."

The bartender didn't quite know what Mist and Shadow and Dovell meant, but in any case, this seemed like a lovers quarrel. A predicament he was all to used to seeing, especially in his bar. In any case, he had quite a bit of good advice stored up for just this situation.

"You're girlfriend is probably right, lad," he advised the cloaked stranger.

"She's not my girlfriend!"

"He's not my boyfriend!"

The cloaked strangers glared at each other. The bartender felt his eyebrows lift, pulling out two more bottles of butterbeer and setting them before the duo.

"Sure, sure. Here, its on the house."

The woman gave him a small smile, sipping it as she leaned against the bar. "Business hasn't been great though, right? I got it covered."

"Oh no, this young man already payed me 3 Sickles. That's already enough for you two youngins to have free butterbeer here every weekend for a year. Come back whenever you want, I'll have 'em ready. Always a great way for people to make up, if you know what I mean," he winked discretely at her.

"Oh," the woman blinked, complexion darkening before whacking the young man's arm.

"Ow!" he protested. "What was that for? I didn't say anything!"

"You deserved that," she said primly, marching to the door. "Now, c'mon, I wanna see the tower fall."

The stranger shrugged, grabbing his butterbeer and leaving a Galleon in its place.

"Hey!" the bartender spluttered. The door swung shut behind them and the bartender groaned, snatching up the Galleon and sprinting after them.

"Young man, as much as I appreciate it, this is too-"

He stopped, jaw dropping as he stumbled to a stop behind the two strangers. The black tower was crumbling before his very eyes, the sky clearing and black smoke dissipating. All at once the dead trees seemed to come to life, blooming with flowers and green leaves, birds chirping like it was spring time.

"What-?"

"That's much better," the young man stated. The woman rolled her eyes but seemed to agree, tugging the cloaked stranger into the street.

The bartender chased after them. "Hey, wait-"

A flash of light engulfed the street and the bartender shielded his eyes. When he opened them again, it was to the sight of another cloaked stranger. How many of them were there?

"Nice of you to help out," the new stranger said, waving his hand in the air. Behind him floated the dark witch of Romania, her eyes blissfully closed as her chest rose and fell with a loud snore. The bartender nearly had a heart attack, sitting down heavily on the steps to his bar.

"I blew up the tower. You're welcome," the bartender's cloaked stranger said.

The woman rolled her eyes. "Let's just get her to the IWC already, I'm hungry."

"Hey, you two got butterbeer at least. I hid in a bush for the three hours."

The bartender blinked hard, but the dark witch of Romania continued to snore, drool at the edge of her lips.

"The Portkey is ready to go when you are."

The bartender shook his head to clear it, quickly rising to his feet. "Um, excuse me."

The original cloaked stranger turned around, green eyes flashing. "Yes?"

"What-who are-what's happening?"

"Oh," the stranger said, like he'd just realized that defeating the worst dark witch Romania had seen in a century wasn't normal. "Well, we're taking her to prison-"

"No duh," the other cloaked man muttered.

"-and then I'm going home for a nap. If I have time, I'm gonna watch the next episode of Blue Exorcist."

"You've watched that series 3 times already, how are you not sick of it?" The other man sighed, pulling out a ratty sock from a pocket. "'sides, the next FC Bayern game is at one. Now hold on before I leave you two behind."

"Oh yeah," the stranger bit his lip, concentrating as he touched the sock. "Well, then I can fit it in on the way there, as long as we don't stop at the pony exhibit Mist wanted to see-"

"But she's been waiting for that all year!" the woman interrupted, pinching the edge of the sock with distaste.

"Just because you want to talk to horses again-"

"I'm sorry, but I am really confused," the bartender said, staring at the scene with increasing bewilderment. "Who are you?"

The three paused, each holding a part of the ratty sock as the dark witch of Romania sleepily cuddled it close to her cheek. It was a strange picture.

"Ah, well, not that it really matters," the bartender added hastily. "Really, I just want to let the people know who to thank for getting rid of the dark witch of Romania."

"We're with the Rebellion, dude," the newest cloaked man winked.

The woman sighed, "Stop being such a Star Wars nerd. It's never gonna catch on."

The bartender's cloaked stranger just smiled, nodding to the Galleon. "If you ever find yourself in trouble, just contact us."

The Portkey activated, leaving the streets empty with a quiet pop.

As villagers filed into the streets, pointing at the smoking pile of rubble and shrieking, the bartender glanced down at the Galleon, noticing for the first time the inscription around the edges. Golden runes flashed, spinning around the edge of the coin before freezing in place. Smiling, the bartender pocketed the coin and walked down the street into the madness.

Up on a rocky enclave, the three cloaked strangers watched the bartender wave his arms wildly as he recounted the story, the witch snoring in the background.

"You sure he was the right pick?" the woman whispered to the cloaked stranger, tying suppressant chains around the dark witch of Romania.

The cloaked stranger turned away with a smile, a swirl of shadows appearing before them. The other cloaked man dragged the witch through the darkness, giving the two a cheeky salute before diving through.

"I'm sure. He has a good heart-he will protect his people."

"We'll see soon enough. Someone paid too much for our butterbeers and I intend to collect on his offer," the woman said, blowing him a kiss as she slipped into the darkness.

A lizard gave him a side eye.

"It's not a date," the young man insisted, feeling his cheeks heat.

The lizard scuttled through the portal with a loud pop, seemingly uncaring of the cloaked strangers protests.

"Ah, whatever," the cloaked stranger sighed, hopping through the portal. Either way the path before him led to soccer and anime. Could be worse.

A few weeks later when the coin in his pocket heated up, the cloaked stranger was unsurprised to find himself back in Romania, another black tower rising above the little village. Beside him the woman snorted, eying the broken windows with amusement.

"I think she was in a bit of a rush," the bartender told them as he pocketed his own glowing Galleon. "Didn't have much time to make a castle since she figured you guys would be back again."

"Mm," the cloaked stranger said, tilting his head as he considered the many wonderful ways he could blow it up.

The townspeople were milling around the town square as usual, paying no mind to the tower in comparison to the last time. There even seemed to be a dance happening, flutes and drums played loudly as couples danced round and round. A large wedding cake sat at the center of the pavilion, and small children played tag. One of the younger woman spotted the duo, pointing at them and shrieking loudly.

"Hey, it's the Rebels!"

The stranger sighed, slapping his forehead. Of all the names, this was the one that stuck.

"Yes, that's us," he smiled through gritted teeth, already planning on EQ's sweet, sweet demise. "What can I do for you?"