I love you guys. You keep me on my toes. I actually had to read both the correction reviews twice before I realized what I did wrong… I'm not even going to tell you how many times I proofread the story.


"I'm not really a bad person," Nawrocki explained as the Yaridoviches dragged the prisoners all down the stairs to the basement. "I mean, okay, I'll grant that I'm not a good person, but that's the cost of ambition. I got goals, you know? My point is, there's lots of worse people. Like King Wart. What's the deal with that guy?"

One of the Yaridoviches opened the door at the end of the stairs and held it open for the others. Nawrocki walked in, sniffed, and pulled a string to light a bare bulb. They were now in the dungeon, musty from having been shut up for a long time. There was one cell on each side. On the left, Count Bleck was slumped against the wall. On the right, Nastasia was picking at the lock on a butterfly cage where Tippi was imprisoned.

"What is this?" Mimi shrieked in horror.

"It's the dungeon," replied Dimentio.

"That's right." Nawrocki clapped his leaves twice. "Yaridovich, you know the drill. Ladies on one side, men on the other. Yaridovich, Yaridovich, and Yaridovich, you make sure they don't get out. Yaridovich, come with me. The rest of you, um, take five."

Two Yaridoviches opened the cells and some others shoved the minions in. One Yaridovich locked the doors and then they were all gone.

"Welcome to the dungeon," said Nastasia. "So, um, enjoy your stay."

Mimi started rattling the bars. "Let me out! Who's going to feed Félicie?"

Félicie bounded out from some forgotten corner and started yapping. Mimi scooped her up. "Hi, baby," she cooed.

"I'm sorry," said the Count. "This never should have happened."

"I didn't know we had a dungeon," said Mr. L.

"I ordered it sealed up when I… when I put this castle 'under new management,' shall we say?"

"Aye," said O'Chunks. "I remember that day. I took a big boulder, see, an' I heaved it like a caber into the doorway. Dinn' think anyone'd ever get it oot."

"He's devious," said Count Bleck. "He's been building those monsters, the Machine Mades."

"Well, we'll simply have to unbuild them," said Dimentio. "It should be easy enough to get out of these cells… with magic!"

Count Bleck shook his head. "That won't be possible… I specifically designed them so you couldn't teleport out. You can't use any of your magic in here." He looked up sadly. "You see… when I built them I never thought I could really trust any of you."

"You built these dungeons for us!?" Mimi put her hands over her mouth as she gasped. "That's awful!"

"No, no, not exclusively, explained Count Bleck. And I never undid it because I never intended to use these awful cells again. Best to just put it behind me." He hung his head in shame.

"You never could have seen something like this coming," said Tippi. "Don't blame yourself."

"I blame him," said Dimentio.

"You be quiet."

"What? He's the one building dungeons for his own minions."

"Yes, but you were the ones who were evil."

"Not evil; just misunderstood."

Count Bleck raised his hand. "Please," he sighed. "No arguing. Just… no arguing."


Nawrocki had all of his Machine Mades lined up in rows and columns in his laboratory. The one tiny curtained off section was the front where he was making the potion. The rest of it had been turned into a sort of factory. Using his magic, Nawrocki had made it run almost silently.

"We're getting close, Machine Mades," he said. "Soon the dream of our leader will become the reality of us- a world full of weapons!"

He stopped at one row of Machine Mades. "One of you in this row is defective," he said. "I'm not sure which one, but something is wrong here… Anyone who's defective, raise your hand!"

None of them moved.

"Okay, then, I'll just get to work. All of you in this row, come line up on that wall."

This time they obeyed.

"Right, then…"

He began to inspect each of the seventy-five Machine Mades to find the one that was bothering him.


"I know!" Mimi cried happily.

Everyone in the cells looked up hopefully.

"I'll turn into a magic key! I've seen them before!"

The others groaned and went back to their original positions.

"What?"

"Mimi," said Nastasia. "Remember why your plan to turn into a Bullet Bill and smash the door open didn't work?"

"No, why?"

"Because it takes magic."

"Oh, yeah." She sat down and put one stick-hand to her chin. "Hmm… what if I turn into a Yoshi and eat the lock?"

"No, because—" Nastasia started, but then changed her mind. "You know what? Yeah, go ahead and try. Sure. That'll be fine. Everyone, stand back."

Mimi jumped up and held her arms out. Everyone waited. She frowned, and then jumped again. "It's not working," she said.

"Gee, I wonder why that could be," said Nastasia.

"I know, it's like, all weird and junk."

O'Chunks rotated his shoulders. "Ah right, I'm ready teh try again," he said. "Stand back, this could get chunky!" He gripped two bars that were already slightly bent and began to pull them apart. "Hrrrrrr… Graaahh!"

"Don't strain yourself," said Count Bleck.

"Ain't a bit o' strain on… hrrrrrr!… Ah'll 'ave this bent in half a spot o'— Ah!" The bars budged another centimeter. O'Chunks beamed. "There, see? Easy as fallin' in the river in a log rollin' contest." He leaned against the wall and slid down. "I'm just gonna catch me breath, then."

"Take your time."

Mimi kicked the bars angrily. "How could he do this to us!" she said, crying. "It's not fair! I hate this! I don't even know what's going on!"

"He said he needed our castle and he knew we wouldn't go along with it," said Tippi.

"Well, duh! I mean, this place smells awful."

"I meant the taking-over-the-world-with-weapons bit," she clarified. "But this is pretty awful, too."

"Well, that stinks too, but this is just rude."

Count Bleck stood up. "Timpani, my love, it pains me to see you suffer."

"Then you'd better think up a plan quick," she replied dryly.

"I may have," he said, "but you must understand one thing: that in order for us to be together, we may have to be apart."

"Blumiere, that doesn't make any sense."

"Yeah, Count," said Dimentio. "That doesn't make any sense."

"I'm still thinking," said Count Bleck. "But we're in a pretty terrible bargaining position."

"So, we'll wait for O'Chunks to bust us out," said Mimi. "No need to bargain."

O'Chunks let out a loud snore.

"I'll begin a tally then, shall I?" Dimentio picked up a chalky stone from the dungeon debris and put a tally mark on the rock. "One day and counting."


Hours later, Nawrocki came in balancing seven trays of food on various leaves and vines, with a bowl perched on his snout. "Suppertime," he called merrily.

He quickly dished out the dinners, sliding them between the bars and getting everything squished in the process. Then he tilted the bowl sideways, trying to push it into the woman's cell but spilling a foul-smelling clear liquid all over the floor.

"Oops," he said. "Bad idea. Gomen nasai. Trés fatigué, not thinking."

"Pick a language and stick with it," said Nastasia irritably. "What is that, anyway?"

"The potion," said Nawrocki. "Not that you can check it down here, but you know, show of good faith and all, I thought, maybe…"

"You're actually still making it?" said Tippi in disbelief.

"Well, that's what you hired me for, isn't it?" Nawrocki shrugged. "I'm a man of honor, you know."

"Really."

"Really. Now stop talking. I've been working for eighteen hours straight and I have a gigantic headache."

Count Bleck signaled Nawrocki. "I'd like to speak to you," he said. "I'd like to negotiate the terms of our imprisonment."

Nawrocki gave a short laugh that sounded more like a snort. "Really? You'd like to negotiate with me? Aside from the headache, you're in no position to negotiate with me! What would you even offer?"

"You have to agree to negotiate with me before I'll tell you what I can offer."

"Hmm…" Nawrocki stroked his chin thoughtfully. "You've piqued my curiosity. I'll send a couple Yaridoviches to bring you to a private conference while we negotiate the terms of whatever you just said. Enjoy your meal." And with that, he left.

"Blumiere, what are you doing?" asked Tippi nervously.

"Making it up as I go," he replied. "Trust me, my love. I'll have all of us free, I know I will. It will just take a little… finesse, shall we say?"

"I hope you know what you're doing."

"I hope so, too."