Nicole, ironing a shirt that is already perfectly flat, doesn’t look up. “Stop being dramatic, Gumball. Beige is the new blue.”
The doors burst open. In marches — a tall, featureless humanoid figure wearing a sleek, white suit and a blank, mirrored helmet. Behind her are two identical assistants holding clipboards that glow with ominous light. Her name: Inspector Noctorum .
Noctorum — now — sits on a cloud, eating a pie she just pulled out of thin air. The Bureau has retreated.
A beam of gray light shoots from her clipboard. Alan doesn’t pop. He deflates slowly, his smile fading as he shrinks into a flat, sad piece of rubber on the floor. “Be… positive…” he whispers, then goes silent.
“I missed this,” she says.
She turns to the eraser. And she pulls a giant cartoon mallet from her apron — the same one Gumball tried to use earlier. She swings.
“How?” Darwin whispers. “She’s got the power of realism on her side!”