Disclaimer: Lazlo, Edward Platypus, Jane Doe, Rubella Mucus, Patsy Smiles, Nina Neckerly, Gretchen Lake, Almondine Mosley, Amber, Honey Bear, Tootie Reingold, Susie Rothery, Margaret D'Virgillo, Commander Hoo Hah, Camp Kidney and Acorn Flats are the intellectual properties of Joe Murray. They are being used without permission in a manner that does not involve profit.

Roine Trewavas, Reverend Hector Galagos, Gethsen Pheles, Doctor Uriah Heep, Chief Zaire Kiss, Major Otto Wills, the Albtraum Feind and the plot of this crazy story are the intellectual properties of Octavarius Kaiser Scott. Do not use ANYTHING without my permission, because I DO care if my creations are used.

Author's Note: This story changed more than Steve's pen name did. Srsly. First it started out as... uhh... I think it was a Father Of The Pride fic? Then I lost interest in the whole thing and transformed it into a Tiny Toon Adventures... adventure. That went nowhere, because the screwy plot I had in mind was impossible to write about. So I got tired. Put it on hiatus...

After finding out about Camp Lazlo (and more specifically, the Squirrel Scouts), I created a new plot using bits and pieces of my previous plots, and it seems to have worked. For the moment being, at least.

Do enjoy the fourth installment of the Final Cut timeline. As bumpy as it may be...

It is not sound. It is not literature. It is not fate.

IV. Beyond Twilight

Ferrarius Verbero Aestus Ferratilis
For the the love of art and the making
This is for love and for the making

Through the marshland
And through the rain and mud
I march to you
My sleeping beauty
I alone
I cut myself on the moonlight beams
Hordes of wolves follow behind me
I alone
I'm all alone
My face brightens in the flash of the lightning

Chapter 1: Roine Trewavas

Fair... elegant... foolish. The words that best described Acorn Flats' own Scout Mistress. But they no longer held any meaning, as Miss Doe laid there silently in a scene that was ever so still and ominous. The organs behind that flat, delicious stomach had been torn out and paraded throughout the fields; her limbs detached and gnawed on until they were unidentifiable scraps; and her skull left in pieces, gleaming like porcelain in the morning sun. The lovely green grass beneath her was tainted heavily with crimson marks and chunks of fur. Wretched subterranean life had long since risen from its lair, covering the body's entirety with a pulsating and ever-feeding cacoon. She was dead and gone.

Nina Neckerly, a prodigious giraffe of sixteen years, was the one who had first beheld the grisly mess. And it was her dreadful scream in the morning that brought her fellow Scouts out to investigate. The ten stood encircled, each one bearing a puzzled, yet equally disgusted look. Some with weak stomachs 

regurgitated while they mourned; some dared not to look at all, and instead asked their kin to simply describe the scene. Whether they hid or prayed or weeped, none could deny that the rancid stench and shock was overwhelming.

"But why did it have to be today?" many of them wondered aloud, for this particular day was significant to every Squirrel Scout. It was to be the third ever Miss Fru Fru beauty pangent held in Acorn Flats -- and although very few enjoyed (and participated in) the pangent itself, the majority of Scouts looked forward to ruining the event, as a way to entertain themselves on this usually boring and undesirable day.

"Who could have done it?" was another question that circulated throughout the gathering. Many speculated that Miss Doe could have been randomly selected by a psychotic murderer with cannibalistic tendencies, or that she was the victim of an abusive ex-lover who finally snapped after being haunted by their tragic schism. None could perceive the real truth behind this matter, of course, but they all knew that the culprit could still be hiding deep within the woods, and that the chances of a succeeding murder were grave.

They continued to share their thoughts with one another until a very flummoxed Miss Mucus arrived on-scene. She pushed through a green tapir clinging onto a shuddering grey rabbit, her expression staying indifferent as she once again peered down at her superior's corpse. Mucus was a colossal and perpetually bitter warthog, who treated the girls like a systematic machine in some factory, yet kept them well-protected from the Bean Scouts residing across the lake (whom she despised greatly), and even served as an unintentional contradiction to Miss Doe's feminine influences. She snorted, gaining the encirclement's attention (and causing a good few to jump out of their skin) and then spoke, "Alright girls, ya better get back into yer cabins -- there's nothing more to see here." Mucus turned away from the body and began to waddle back to where she came. She stopped for a moment to add, "Come on now, I ain't gonna tell ya again..."

She went off again, quite aware that the girls were following her. It was only when she reached her trailer that she acknowledged their presence with another snort. "Look girls," Mucus began, keeping her back turned to the prying lot, "I don't know anymore than you do. Miss Doe died somehow -- she's being chewed up by maggots and the like -- we're without a Scout Mistress..."

"Sorry Miss Mucus." quivered a pink-haired mongoose named Patsy Smiles, the incontrovertible ringleader of the Squirrel Scouts. "We just wanted to know about Miss Doe's replacement. I mean, if there's going to be one..."

"We'll know in a few days. I already sent out the missive to Commander Hoo Hah." Mucus replied. "Would've been quicker to use the cellular phone, but I ain't getting any signal. And the damn power's still out, so resorting to the other one is out of the question..."

Indeed, two days prior to this morbid event, an unusually fierce thunderstorm had consumed the skies and ravaged the area around Leaky Lake. Trees of various shapes and ages were either scorched by bolts of lightning, or ripped straight out of the earth by violent winds and spread out upon roads that were caked with fallen mud. Worst of all, the Lake's denizens were without any power at all, which seemed to isolate them even further from outside connections. However obvious the causes of this blackout were, the reason for cellular devices being rendered inoperative was anything but.

Mucus swung open the trailer door, sighing. "Interpol's gonna be here any minute now. As your temporary Scout Mistress, I'm ordering ya'll to get inside. Stay away from the body, stay out of their way. Ya'll can watch them do their jobs from the safety of yer cabins. That's all."

So it was. Mucus climbed into her trailer and slammed the door with enough force to generate a resounding metallic clap, which lingered throughout the camp for a short while before fading out. The Scouts knew that this was their cue to end this analytical behavior and return to their given shelters as ordered. Patsy, Nina and an alligator who went by the name of Gretchen made a mute retreat to 

their own cabin near the entrance of Acorn Flats. Even after they were inside, they stayed just as quiet as that lonely corpse -- but in their silence they found activities to help make the minutes feel less like hours. Nina, ever the bookworm, immersed herself in a codex of scientific history, while Gretchen found a few dolls from earlier years to dismember. But Patsy kept to gazing out from the hazy window, eagerly awaiting the coming of Interpol, and hoping that her many questions would be given conclusive answers.

It was not until the passing of an hour that Interpol had finally arrived. Workers from outlying towns had also come to purge the roads of the waste that blanketed them, and return power to those that were without. Not wanting to miss out on anything, Patsy's cabin mates rushed up to the window -- their main focus being on the four agents examining the corpse, rather than on those who were commiting themselves to repair and restoration. The girls eyed the Inspectors, whispering among themselves and becoming more dissonant as one of them rose up. That particular man approached Miss Mucus, who was standing near the Food Terrace, and engaged in what appeared to be a conversation with her.

This was most bizarre to Patsy, as his mouth wasn't moving at all. Of course, nothing about the man struck her as remotely normal to begin with. He was clad in a feldgrau trench coat with awkward shoulder plates that projected outward, and black leather boots with similar projections sprouting from the tips. Obscuring his eyes were goggles, not unlike the ones worn by the Nazi Party's Schutzstaffel, and across both his throat and nape was a deep, horrible-looking scar. Certainly out of place when compared the other agents, who went for a more professional look with their dark spectacles and suits.

"Who is that guy?" the mongoose asked, turning to Nina.

"I'm assuming that's Doctor Uriah Heep." Nina said as her eyes darted back down to her pabulum. "He's in charge of developing lethal and non-lethal instruments, and is technically second-in-command of the whole agency -- the first being Gethsen Pheles. Other than that, he's supposed to be really knowledgable with fauna..."

"So it could've been an animal that did this, right? That's why he was brought here?"

The long-necked mammal tightened her jaw. "Perhaps. Or he might be here to oversee the investigation..."

The next question came from Gretchen this time, "What's with the neat goggles?"

Nina blinked at her friend's trivial question. "Well..." she began, "It's obvious he wants to stand out in some way, and what other way to do that than by wearing goggles with a redundantly flamboyant attire?" Nina closed her book and placed it onto her lap, blushing a bit. "If you ask me, I think it's kind of sexy."

"I'll say." Gretchen said, fiddling with her curled blonde hair. "I wanna touch that pointy beard of his..."

A look of bafflement canceled out the previous expression on Patsy's face, and she fought hard to contain her opposing opinions. As her cabin mates took their eyes from the window to focus more on their prosaic jabbering, Doctor Heep had turned away from the plumpish warthog, and was gazing directly at Patsy. She gasped, but neither Gretchen or Nina seemed to have heard her. In fact, her friends, Miss Mucus, and the nauseating interior of their cabin had all evansced, and were replaced by some void-like world with no end or beginning. She fell backwards and screamed when Uriah suddenly descended from above, his blank, eyeless gaze piercing into her, violating her private thoughts and events that had been and would be. Disregarding her missing Squirrel Scout beret, Patsy picked herself up and scurried off into the eternal nothing, tears dampening her fuzzy cheeks as she ran.



Then the cacophonous sound of gunfire and shouting devoured the silent void, and blasting through it was a muffled, robotic-sounding voice. It began as cryptic gibberish, but became clearer as Patsy pressed on. "Little... creature." it said, "Do not run... from what cannot be... undone."

Patsy's face collided with the cabin's pink walls, and that surreal world of emptiness and noise faded as abruptly as it came. She held her throbbing nose as it bled crimson all over her red orange vest, and soon her perplexed cabin mates were up on their feet and huddled around her.

"Oh, Patsy!" Nina wrapped an arm around her mongoose friend and softly pressed a tissue against her bloodied nose. "Are you okay?"

"Holy crap! What the hell was that for? !" Gretchen exclaimed before Patsy could even answer. "One minute you're freaking out over something, and the next you're heading straight for a wall!"

Nina shot the reptile a questionable look. "Let her speak, Gretchen..."

"Everything... disappeared..." Patsy panted, trying her best to be cohorent. "After... that... Uriah Heep guy... started staring at me. It's like he was... looking... into me. And... and I'm sure... he was telling me things!" At this point, her heavy breathing was accompanied by mournful sobs. "Things that... can't be undone... or something! I've... never been so terrified!"

Nina and Gretchen just stared at each other, unsure of what to say. So quietly, while comforting her with an embrace and words of assurance, they decided to speak nothing more of it, and relieve her of the possible humilation. Such things were beyond any of them, and as longtime friends they had no right to question or sway the sight her eyes had seen -- regardless of how preposterous it sounded.

All was tranquil a few moments later, and by that time, the three agents and their unorthodox leader had withdrawn from the area, taking along with them the remains of Miss Doe. With those who might've been vexed by their presence gone, the girls rushed out from their cabins to begin again with the questioning. They swarmed around their temporary Scout Mistress like crazed hornets, with each of them asking several things at once. Though her patience was diminishing, Mucus merely crossed her arms and tapped her foot as the caterwauling went on and on. When she decided to put an end to it, she did so with a monstrous yell, and the group around her fell silent at once.

"That's more like it." she growled, placing her hands onto her wide, flabby hips. "I know what yer wondering, and I'm afraid Doctor Heep wasn't able to provide a definite answer just yet." When she said this, many of the Scouts voiced their disappointment with groans. Mucus responded by shaking her head. "Just the way things go, girls. Not everything in the world can be easily explained. Hell, I ain't even sure if we'll get ourselves an explaination. Those guys looked about as perplexed as we did.

"Anywho, we're gonna be a bit more cautious 'round here. Everyone is to stay near me at all times during all activities. I mean it. If I find any of ya'll missing, I'm gonna stir up a shitstorm with yer parents, ya hear? Oh, and no going out into the forest. God knows what could be lurking out there..." Mucus then stared at Patsy, who was still tending to her nose with a bloodied tissue. "Dare I ask what happened to ya?"

The cat-like anthropomorph hid the kleenex behind her back and tittered. "W-well... you see..."

"I accidentally sat down on her face!" Gretchen blurted out, flashing the warthog a dopey grin. "You know me, I'm a stupid alligator..."

Miss Mucus rolled her eyes. "For Christ sakes."



Two days rolled on by and the camp proceeded as usual, though the zestful activities the Squirrel Scouts had always looked forward to were dragged down by extra precautions. This resulted in a succession of drab and sludgy events with meandering periods of leisure in-between. Many times during those twenty-four hour replicas they wished for Miss Doe's death to be nothing more than a terrible dream; many times did reality remind them of how wicked it could be. To make matters worse, a dry heat had replaced the pleasant spring weather, further enhancing the boredom and making the lot of them miserable and very uncomfortable.

Just when the third day looked to be as grim and eventless as the others, the news of Commander Hoo Hah having found a new Scout Mistress swept the insipid atomsphere away and remedied the young furres' boredom. At last they had some reason to be excited. Believing that he would be reasonably punctual on such an important day, they forthwith abandoned their cabins and gathered round the washroom, gossiping about the only topics worth the gossip, and making theoretical guesses as to what the replacement's personality would be like.

"I hope she knows about Rock Buckskin." said a stout Great Horned Owl named Almondine. Though considered the most banal of the Squirrel Scouts, she was by far the most intellectual.

"And a lot about fashion!" giggled Amber, the grey rabbit.

"She'd better not be some bitchy hag." Gretchen mumbled while cracking her knuckles. "The last thing we need around here is a clone of my mom..."

Nina shook her head, knowing that this kind of comment from the mordant reptile was inevitable. "Now Gretchen, whoever or whatever she may be doesn't matter; we still need to kindly welcome her." The giraffe ignored her friend's groaning and went on, "Of course," she grinned slyly, "If she doesn't welcome us in a similar fashion, and it turns out she's a... female dog, we can always teach her a lesson. As in, dress up as Borgs and threaten to assimilate her!"

"That's lame! Throwing dried horse poo on her would be much more satisfying..."

Despite the droll speculations all around her, Patsy persisted in staying out of it. Her mood simply did not agree with any of their colloquies. The weather (as torturous as it might have been) was not at fault, and neither was the current subject matter. It was that horrific episode with Uriah Heep of two days bygone. It was that dark voice, that bone-rattling, otherworldly voice going on and on within her mind like a recorder set to infinity. Even after he had departed, he was still there; following her wherever she went and proclaiming his riddle. Her cabin mates were well aware of the inner turmoils and resulting isolation -- but they kept their distance, speaking only when necessary and taking care not to pry. For the haunting memory to be nullfied she required time, and should it be summoned again by a lapse on their part, the time required would become greater.

The communion went on for a good while until Miss Mucus ran out from her watch tower, her hefty body jiggling like a balloon filled with water. One by one the Scouts fell silent as she zoomed past them, declaring that she had spotted Hoo Hah. They looked over yonder and indeed his dark green jeep was fast approaching. But by the time Mucus had reached the booth to raise the red and white barrier, the Commander had already plowed right through it.

Hoo Hah screeched to a halt, chuckling nervously as he put the jeep in reverse. "Aw shit. I'm dreadfully sorry about that, Rubella."

But Mucus said not a word, for what was seated on the passenger's side left her wide-eyed and flabbergasted.

Hoo Hah crept forward a bit and then gave the key a twist. The engine died down at once, and he stepped out of his military vehicle; a huge grin spreading across his face when he spotted Patsy, his daughter. Not biologically, mind you, as he was a buffalo and she was a mongoose. She came to be 

apart of the Smiles family after Hoo Hah's wife and newborn son died during parturition. Not wishing to live a lonesome life, nor wishing to risk another terrible loss, he adopted Patsy (whose real parents were killed by a putrid and malevolent half-breed named Richie Evergrey) at the tender age of four. Many considered her lucky to be alive, but luck had no part in it. She still drew breath to this day because Richie vowed never to slay a child -- furre or otherwise.

The Commander gave her a wave and asked if she was keeping her undergarments clean and whatnot, which caused Patsy to recoil from sheer embarrassment. Laughing quietly, he walked to the other side of his vehicle and kindly helped the passenger out. The eyes of each Scout followed, studied and eventually widened when he drew closer and closer to them.

"Ladies! Front and center! This man..." said Hoo Hah. "...Is your new Scout Mistress! His name is Ron Trevors!"

"Actually... it's... um... Roine Trewavas." the man said, his cheeks turning slighty redder.

The buffalo blinked at the edification and laughed stupidly, giving Roine a jestful slap in the back. "Hear that? It's Roine Trewavas! Remember it well!"

Roine almost winced, but did well to hide any sign of distress. The last thing he needed was to be revealed as a weakling to ten young women who appeared far more rugged than he, despite his unshaven face and great height. God only knew of the mockery that could've ensued with that bit of knowledge in their possession. So he forced a smile and lowered his dim grey eyes onto them, not surprised that their mouths were still wide open from all the confusion. Save for one, who was keeping a low profile in the back for some reason or another.

Hoo Hah dismissed the girls from his little assemblage and returned to his jeep, tipping his hat to Miss Mucus as she picked up the remains of the barrier. Upon squeezing his broad frame through the door, he spoke to them again in a slightly harsher tone. "Now you'd better not give Mister Treewaver too hard of a time like you did Slugman! He's not a surrogate Scout Mistress -- he's a permanent one! That means no cutesy makeovers..." He paused for a moment to turn over the engine, speaking louder as it came to life with a roar and a cloud of black smoke, "...No playing tennis with his eyeballs! And no torturous activities that I have not mentioned! Should I even get one complaint from Mister Toewash, I will burn your underwear! Yes. I will be returning in a couple of days to check up on you girls. Until then... I bid you farewell!"

Roine was quite thankful when Hoo Hah had departed. Being called a 'Scout Mistress' twice in a row was most definitely cringeworthy. A few of the girls had come to realize this as well, and they giggled and whispered as usual. Roine brought the brim of his sepia colored fedora down over his eyes, cleared his throat, and pulled a sheet of paper covered with flowery patterns out from underneath his coat (which was the same color as his vintage hat).

"Can anyone tell me what this is?"

Nina adjusted her thick, orange-tinted glasses and replied, "That appears to be the Squirrel Scout Etiquette..."

"You're right. Most unfortunate for you, as Commander Hoo Hah told me that you're to follow it to the letter." Roine gave them a smirk. "It almost seems like a requirement if you are to be female. No, it is a requirement..." When he said this, many of the Squirrels grimaced, as if they were hoping he would not advocate the horrors of femininity. Their fears were put aside once Roine retrieved the trash can sitting near the outhouse. "...To those who believe it's not rubbish, of course. I believe that you can be female without some inane guide, so thusly, I will not force any of these restrictions upon you. In with the trash it goes!"



He went to pull the lid off in a dramatic fashion, but it stayed bound to the trash can, leaving Roine miffed and embarressed. He lifted the soiled beige container off of the ground with an inaudible grumble, giving it a hysterical shake. When that attempt ended in utter failure as well, Roine slammed it back down and tried wresting it open, his face searing hot with redness as the girls began their giggling again. After a good minute or so he had grown jaded, and with a swift kick he knocked the plastic bin over and promptly sat on it. The lid came off with a loud pop, much to the surprise of everyone. Roine then crumbled up the piece of paper and tossed it into the odious, garbage-ladened hole, looking very content with himself.

"In with the trash it goes..."

"Uhh, we never bothered following that stuff to begin with." Gretchen said while itching her buttocks. "Even when Miss Doe tried to force us..."

Roine ignored her and peered down at his silvery watch. "Well, what do you know; it's already twelve o' clock! Have you had your lunch yet? Of course you haven't!" Forcing another smile, he directed a finger to what he hoped to be their dining hall (though its true name elluded him). "Everyone get in the... whatever the hell you call it. That pink thing... over there."

"Which one?" said Honey, a bear who was far less intelligent than the rest, even if the question she asked was a relevant one.

Patsy suddenly came out of her silence and answered for the Scout Master, "He's talking about the Food Terrace."

"Yes, that's it! Couldn't remember what it was called for the life of me!" Roine rubbed his scruffy goatee and once again cleared his throat. "Off you go now..."

The ten scurried off with alacrity, sharing their mixed feelings about the one who would watch over them from here on after. Roine rose to his full height of six foot six and straightened his coat out a bit before returning the bin to where he had found it. He emitted a deep sigh as he set it down, and whispered to nobody in particular, "That wasn't so bad..."

A twig snapped behind him, and he spun around to see Miss Mucus approaching with a handful of red and white debris. She pulled the lid from the garbage can with ease (which made Roine feel even more like a weakling) and dropped it all in.

"Don't let 'em get to ya, Roine." she said. "In a day or two they'll be followin' ya around like a bunch of puppies. Wicked little puppies with a tendency to bite, that is, but that's why ya gotta bite back! Get rough and tough with 'em!" The warthog nudged him with an elbow. "But yer doing better than Jane Doe did when she became Scout Mistress. The girls were so damned hard on her, that she was close to quittin'! And this was on her first day, too!" That normally bitter expression on her gigantic face became far more gleeful when recollecting memories of past times. "Course, when I say they were hard on her, I mean they were defyin' the Etiquette she wrote up in every way possible. Burpin', spittin', playin' with bugs -- ya name it, they did it."

Her face went sour again. "Miss Doe went berserk the next day, painting everything in Acorn Flats pink and red, and giving the Squirrels the most feminine cabin decor possible. She purposely became oblivious to their complaints and what have ya, and hoped to hell that things would change over time. Never did, of course, but you couldn't tell her anything...

"Well, enough of my yappin'. I gotta go fix the girls somethin' to eat." She began waddling towards her destination, but halted upon remembering something most important. "I forgot to tell ya, your abode is right beside the Food Terrace. Ya can't miss it; it's the buildin' with the enormous cone reachin' for the skies. It's got a fridge, so ya'll can fix yerself whatever ya wish. Or if ya'll want me to fix ya somethin', I'd be more than happy to."



"Oh no, I don't think that's necessary. Though the thought is appreciated." Roine smiled. "Thank you, Miss Mucus."

So she handed him the keys and the two proceeded in the same direction until reaching the Food Terrace, where Mucus broke away and left Roine to himself. As he neared what would be his new home, his eyes caught sight of dull stains that marked the grass growing between the steps of his quarters and the flag pole. Roine crouched, running his slender fingers through the blades and then glancing up at the flag, which hung lifelessly from its pole.

"Jane must've been killed here." he thought.

Roine got to his feet, climbed the bone-white stairs and turned to the still forests across the lake, pondering what horror might have lurked within them. Judging from the gruesome details Commander Hoo Hah had passed onto him, the culprit sounded unquestionably animalistic, and was probably lingering closeby. Yet everything else about Miss Doe's death was very confusing indeed, and the fact that Interpol had come to investigate only strengthened the confusion. Interpol didn't do ground work, nor did they remove corpses for autopsies. That was left to lesser law enforcement groups. Of course, Interpol was but a shell of its former self now; it was no longer about preventing war crimes, drug trafficking or corruption, as it was corruption itself.

Roine shook it off and finally unlocked the door. He pushed it open and stepped inside, and at once his mouth fell open from utter stupefaction. The interior was a fusion of old-fashioned and modern-day decor, and everything (for the exception of the appliances) was bright and pink. He wandered around for a good while, examining photographs of former Mistresses and making sure the television was operational before heading into the bedroom. What he found in there made him smile in amusement.

"Fuck me. I even get a bed shaped like a heart."