Well, we're on the last stretch. Now to bring back some old friends...

Review replies;

OddAuthor: ...or all of his clones could start playing their clarinets. :O Thanks for reading!

TweenisodeOrange: In retrospect, I probably should have. Ah well, maybe next year. Thanks for reviewing!

Cartoonatic55: Yeah, I thought you might. ;) Thanks for the review!

Zim'sMostLoyalServant: Thank you, I aim to please! :D Thanks very much!

25/10/13: The Path of the Orinoco

The rain poured on Panama City.

Vlad looked out the window of the penthouse he had rented, seeing nothing more than grey clouds and drops of rain on the glass window. The wet season was well underway – it would not likely clear until December.

He would not be in Panama City for long. His fellows had gone to investigate the ruins of the old 17th century city, leaving him in the city as an alibi. Said alibi had involved buying up a few minor Panaman industries here and there, but they made a profit, so at least he'd gained something of it.

Suddenly, there was a knock at his door. Vlad walked over and answered it.

"Mr. Cromwell," he noted, "Would it have killed you to dry off first?"

Mr. Cromwell was dressed in a thick leather trenchcoat and hat – he was also dripping wet.

"This was too important, Mr. Masters," replied Mr. Cromwell, "We've found what we were looking for."

He reached into his coat and produced a small, folded piece of parchment.

"It was in a chest, perfectly preserved," elaborated Mr. Cromwell, "A map to El Dorado."

Vlad took the map and opened it.

"Well, I can't make sense of this," he muttered, "It's all in Spanish. Archaic Spanish."

"It's a path down the Orinoco River in Venezuela to it's supposed location," explained Mr. Cromwell, "It shows a small river that splits off to El Dorado. We need to follow that."

"How very Apocalypse Now," grunted Vlad, "But I don't understand – the Orinoco River is a major transport route, isn't it? Surely someone would notice a city of gold!"

"The map mentions requiring a...sorcerer to access the river," continued Mr. Cromwell, "There's an ancient incantation on the river that prevents it from being found. Evidently whoever wrote this map had one."

Vlad nodded, scratching his chin.

"So," he nodded, "Off to Venezuela, then?"

"You want to go where?"

Jazz Fenton stood in abject confusion as her benefactor (and magical mentor) Madame Athena explained her intentions. She had come into Jazz's Cambridge student apartment about a minute ago, stating that the fate of humanity rested on her going to South America right now, which seemed a bit confusing.

"Venezuela," repeated Athena, "One of the Witchfinders is looking for El Dorado."

"But the Witchfinders were destroyed!" reminded Jazz.

"Most of them," nodded Athena, "This one is a remnant thirsting for revenge. And he is working for a very powerful individual...as well as one of your brother's enemies."

"Let me guess," Jazz spat, "It's Vlad, isn't it?"

"He and Morgan le Fay," finished Athena, "What her stake is, I cannot guess."

"OK, so we need to go to El Dorado," nodded Jazz, "Should I pack, then?"

Athena raised an eyebrow.

"You have no obligation to come, Jazz," she said.

"It's my world in peril, isn't it?" reminded Jazz, "What do I need?"

"Nothing, I already have supplies and an inside source into their actions," replied Athena, "Although he's...um...not entirely ideal."

A horn blared outside.

"Hurry up!" Jazz heard Dr. Insano shout, "We have witches to find! Do you know what I paid for this information, damn it?"

Jazz raised an eyebrow as Athena facepalmed.

"Okay, question," said Danny, looking down at the map spread out over his kitchen table, "Question one; how are we getting to South America?"

"Same way we get everywhere," replied Sam, "Spectre Speeder!"

"Question two; where are we gonna get a sorcerer from?" continued Danny.

Sam held up a book.

"I got this in a police auction in Springfield," she replied.

"So...you're gonna train as a witch?" quizzed Danny.

"Yes."

"Why not?" grunted Danny, rolling his eyes, "Question three; do we stop to pick up Tuck, or do we just go straight there?"

"I'm sure he'll be fine in San Diego," shrugged Sam, "What's the worst that can happen?"

Not far away, Valerie Grey was sitting in her bedroom, trying to finish her homework. Mr. Lancer had requested a two-thousand word essay on War and Peace, and it was due in tomorrow.

She jumped as something crashed against her window.

"Ghost!" she snarled, jumping to her feet, her ghost-hunting gear appearing around her body.

"No! Dragon! Jones the dragon!"

Outside the window was the face of a gigantic red Welsh dragon.

"Listen, you need to get to San Diego! It's an emergency!" shouted the dragon.

"What?" demanded Valerie.

"Get on my back!" exclaimed Jones, "There's no time to explain!"

"Why should I trust you?" snarled Valerie.

"Because if you don't," snapped Jones, "Bad bloody things are gonna happen! To that one boyo, what's his name...uh...Tucker Foley, and the little one...uh...you know, mini Phantom..."

"Dani?" quizzed Valerie, "You know her?"

"Yes, and she'll be in a lot o' bloody trouble if you don't help me!" shouted Jones, "Now come on!"

Valerie was still for a moment.

Then she opened the window.

"If this is a trick..." she snarled.

"Hey, us dragons are men of our word, y'know," snapped Jones, "Now hang on tight, will you?"

And with that, he soared off into the sky, headed due west.

I'm sure ComicCon is going to go really well.