The sound of lackluster sitar music clued Hans Westergaard in to the scene he'd walk upon before he hit it. He arrived in the bedroom just in time to see Demyx give up and push the sitar off the side of their plush blue bed, choosing instead to flop backward and give a massive groan while staring at the ceiling.

"Still got the clone blues, huh?" Hans sat down on the bed beside him.

"Look," Demyx sighed. "I don't have a lot going for me. Or at least not a lot I wanna advertise. But the one thing I could always say is that I was one of a kind. Sure, I might've borrowed some of Jareth's better aesthetic touches, but I transformed them and they look better on me anyway. But now you're telling me there's a whole other me? A body double? A PERSONALITY double? And it's working for the WHAM ARMY?"

"I mean, that enough should tell you that it's the lesser of the two," Hans remarked.

"And why are they so nice to it?" Demyx groaned. "Why aren't THEY treating it like yesterday's garbage? I was yesterday's garbage! I wasn't good enough for them? Huh?"

"Dem," Hans reminded him, "you didn't even like those people."

"Yeah, but I still wanted them to respect me!" Demyx let out a long groan.

Hans thought it over, then gave in and reached over to ruffle Demyx's hair. "It seemed stupid. Pretty sure something went wrong with whatever magic they used."

"Yeah, no duh."

"You're not, uh…" Hans cringed. "You're not thinking about how the other one's in good standing with your old crush, right?"

Demyx sat up suddenly; "I KNEW that's where this was going! Have you been consoling me this whole time to bring up your jealousy issues?"

"…Yes," Hans said flatly.

"Of course I'm thinking about it," Demyx grumbled. "Because the fake's gonna settle, and they're gonna make it look cute, and everyone's gonna think they're the it couple, and you're gonna see it, and YOU'RE gonna get all self-conscious about it, and then I'm gonna lose you because of my stupid clone!"

"But to be clear," Hans said, "you're not…settling."

"Wha – NO!" Demyx insisted. "That's the thing! If they could clone me, then I could just get my own Vexen, right? I DON'T WANT ONE. I don't want you to storm off because the inferior me is doing something stupid!"

Hans let out a sigh of relief. "Okay. Good."

"If it tries to move in on you too," Demyx grumbled, "I swear to Kingdom Hearts I'll actually put effort into making its death painful."

"I wouldn't go for that thing," Hans assured. "Like I said. It's clearly stupid."

"Then we're on the same page." Demyx flopped back onto the bed.

"…Wait," Hans said. "What if it does come after me? I mean…Ravess."

"Please," Demyx huffed. "I can see it coming from a mile off. They might be all cutesy NOW. But she's gonna get sick of the ace life. Signs were already there."

"…Is there anything you don't notice?"

"Hans," Demyx sighed, "Facilier's mopey because Hades got with Maleficent, Mercury Black secretly wishes the green girl had come to the dark side but knows better, Watts TOTALLY went to recruit his ex instead of kill him, like half the people here are plotting Ganondorf's assassination because he's such a killjoy, Snoops is secretly training to become an extreme ironing athlete, Sykes has been writing letters on playing cards that he's sending to an outside source but Maleficent's just letting that one play out so she can figure out who the source is, Dark Ace raided Hazel's room the minute he found out Hazel was dead because he wanted his stuff, and – you swear to secrecy on this last one?"

"Yeah."

"Terminus is dealing with at least one WHAM ARMY representative, and he's trying to spin it like he's selling us their stuff, but he's selling them some of our stuff too, but if I don't leak to upper management, I get a seventy percent discount at Liminal Space. So don't squeal. I want my discount. He's not selling any of the good stuff anyway."

"I won't," Hans said. "Promise."

"So no. There's nothing I don't notice."

Hans changed positions, lying himself flat, pressing right up next to Demyx in a snuggle. "You know what I think you need?"

"An assassin?"

"Yes. But in terms of things we can take care of right now, you need to establish your own identity from the fake. Basically an extreme makeover so everyone knows you're you and he's not."

"Hans, I'm not changing the mullet."

"For the last time, Dem, I don't WANT you to change the mullet. It's very unironically adorable. But you know that other one's going to start wearing sequins or something any day now. You can get the drop on it by wearing something actually classy."

"Yeah." Demyx smiled. "Yeah! I've got some dirt on Cruella; I could blackmail her into outfit recs pretty easy."

"That's the spirit!" Hans urged.

"And you know what else?" Demyx realized. "The whole time when I was over at the loser table, I just wanted somebody, anybody to ask me my real name. You were the only one who ever did. But something happened while I was going by the other one. I realized I kinda am just 'Demyx.' Not 'Deymos.' Deymos is gone. Or was. He probably came back in the form of the lame-o. But getting my X was the start of me realizing I could be in the big leagues instead of just the Goblin King's disappointment. Let the fake settle for being what I was. I'm an Overtaker now, so I want the name that warns everyone about that first thing. Deymos? You can mess with that. But you can't mess with Demyx."

Hans planted a peck on Demyx's cheek. "You are so right. It fits you."

Demyx snuggled right back. "This might not be the end of the world after all."

"It isn't."

"Still need to kill it."

"I know. I'll help with that."

"You sure? Because I think you're just gonna try and stab it, and your sword'll break."

"Wherever did you get that idea?"

The two of them snickered.

"You're the only one who was ever worth my honesty," Hans said softly.

"Yeah," Demyx replied. "You too." He scowled. "No matter what that thing might make you think."

...

Sam "Locus" Ortez was an early riser. At the crack of dawn (which didn't really "crack" in Twilight Town; moreso the crack already there just got wider and had more soft pink and baby blue in it), he made his way to the kitchen to round up a substantial breakfast before his day could begin. After all, Terminus had sent over a care package of several thousand munny (with a rather large implication that the Heathens owed him for this one), and the founders had made a quick grocery run to acquire the basics of food.

Once there, Locus found another person up and about: Emerald Sustrai, who was sorting out large piles of munny and jewelry on the island counter.

"Oh, hey." She greeted Locus with a wave. "Wait, don't tell me…Locus."

Right. She hadn't seen him without his armor before. "You narrowed it down."

"None of the Banzai Blasters are that ripped," Emerald said cheekily as she gave Locus a quick glance to memorize what he was like in the flesh. A well-built musculature, skin a little darker than hers, a long and night-black ponytail, an X-shaped scar faintly traced across his face with its cross-point between the eyes. (She knew better than to ask how he'd gotten it.)

"You've…been busy." Locus' eyes traveled over the haul on the counter.

"Yup," Emerald confirmed. "All this before you even got up."

"I…was looking for breakfast."

"Oh, really?" She grinned. "Take your pick. You want some of the bread I won – " She gestured to the munny pile. "Or the bacon I brought home?" She gestured to the jewels.

"Was it all pickpocketing?" Locus asked.

"Some of it was picking off display cases and using my Semblance to cover my tracks," Emerald explained. "Shopkeepers here are way dumber than back in Remnant. Don't look at me like that; you know Terminus' care package that I'm pretty sure was a loan in disguise was only gonna get us so far."

He flinched. "I wasn't looking disparagingly. I'm…impressed."

She leaned her weight to one hip; "Thought you would be."

She was an impressive woman overall, Locus thought as he moved to start brewing coffee and find some non-metaphorical bacon to throw in a skillet. He knew he couldn't have pulled off a heist like that, even with all the ex-Freelancer tech that could ever be salvaged.

"So what're you gonna do today?" Emerald asked. "Me, I think I'm gonna take a long nap. Nobody around to kick my ass into the destruction of the day here. I can just flop back into my sleeping bag and take me time."

"As you should," Locus said, the sound of bacon sizzling on the skillet bottom underscoring his words. "I'll be staying on my toes."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"It means that as long as you require my skills as a former mercenary," Locus said, "I have to hone them. They don't come as naturally to me as a Semblance. I'll be spending the day training. The woods that surround the mansion make a suitable field. Low visibility from outside forces."

"Seriously?" Emerald coughed. "We're here, in this beautiful city, and we can do whatever we want, anything, and you're gonna spend it beating up a tree? Like I'm guessing you did every other single day back on the military payroll?"

The coffee pot was gurgling; the bacon was curling. "Like I said. I have to stay sharp. Especially with all of you relying on me."

Emerald's brow furrowed. "Are you saying you're better than me because you're gonna push yourself and I'm not?"

He recoiled, slightly. "No. That's not what I'm saying."

Emerald's tension lessened visibly. "Sorry. I think I get it. You're used to the drill. Constant work. No fun. You don't even know HOW to relax."

"I know how," Locus argued. "But I've gotten this far on a strict regimen."

"And how happy are you with your life for it?"

His pause was too long. "Knew it," Emerald said. "Though now that I'm thinking about it…hey. Are you just gonna be training for fighting, or is there…brain stuff?"

"I train in all regards," Locus affirmed, scooping the bacon out onto the plate. "Especially when it comes to focus and observation."

"Okay, perfect," Emerald said. "By the way, that's a nice watch."

"Thank y – "

He'd gone to look at the watch she'd mentioned. A military token, one he usually kept on his person. It was missing.

Locus looked up at Emerald. Emerald smirked as she swung the watch back and forth in front of his face.

"The reason I need to train and you don't," Locus said somewhat sourly, "is I can't do anything close to that. Not yet."

"I figured." Emerald cradled the watch in her palm. "I was just thinking…maybe I have an idea of what you could use for a training exercise. You said observation, right?" She looked to him with mischief in her eye. "Can I borrow this?"

"It depends what for."

"I wanna hide it," Emerald told him. "Somewhere inside the house. No yard, no woods, no Semblance. Just somewhere any old person could find it, if they were looking hard enough. Then you see how long it takes you to find it."

Locus, who was putting bread in the toaster, sighed. "It sounds like you're trying to get me to play some kind of game."

"Maybe you could call it a one-item scavenger hunt," Emerald admitted. "But are you saying it WOULDN'T work as a training exercise? You have to be able to find things in weird places, right?"

He couldn't argue that. "All right. This could be a good test of how well I can think like a thief instead of an assassin."

"There you go!"

Locus nodded to Emerald. "Hide it. And don't go easy on me. But no Semblance."

"What, I'm not gonna cheat," Emerald told him. "It's no fun if I make it so I've already won." She began to cross the kitchen, swiping an apple from a bowl on the side counter.

"That's all you're eating for breakfast?" Locus said after her.

"Don't judge me, mom," Emerald said as she exited, taking a bite.

The toast popped. Locus set about plating his food. A strange and intriguing woman, indeed. He should very much like to be friends with her. And then, given her consent, maybe…

Well, that was a frivolous thought, and jumping the gun at that.

Dumping her apple core in a hallway wastebasket, Emerald entered the foyer. Her first idea was simple. If Locus could solve it quickly enough, she could suggest trying the game (training exercise) again, with a harder solution. For now, she simply looked up to where the chandeliers flickered lazily over the stairs, then gave the watch a flick. It soared up, then hooked over the arm of a chandelier.

In plain sight, but you'd have to think to look up, to really take note of the light fixtures that you took for granted every day.

"Do I even want to know?"

Emerald's heart leapt in her chest. A rather messy-haired Velvet Crowe had entered the foyer, giving her a raised brow. A look that was almost derisive.

(The way Cinder used to do.)

"I'm playing a game with somebody," Emerald answered. "He has to find where I hid it. If you see Locus, don't ruin this for me by telling him the place."

Velvet gave the softest laugh. Smiled subtly. "I wouldn't dream of it." She shook her head, walking past. "But for all his boasting, I have a feeling he'll miss that spot more than he cares to ever admit."

(Chuckles? Smiles? Playing along? Not what Cinder used to do, not at all.)

"By the way," Velvet said, "since you're awake, I might as well offer. I'm going to be making my special quiche in the kitchen for breakfast. It's a lot to eat for one person."

"Special?" Emerald repeated.

"It was famous around Aball," Velvet said slyly. "I'd take the offer, if I were you. Unless you've already eaten."

Emerald's stomach growled for something more substantial than an apple, all of a sudden. "No, I could eat."

She followed Velvet into the kitchen as Locus exited, having polished off his meal and cleaned up his dishes. He gave them both a nod, then completely failed to even consider the chandelier where his watch was dangling.

...

A butterfly made of multicolored smoke winged its way toward the Radiant Garden castle, then into Ruby Rose's bedroom. As she slept, it landed on her nose, transforming in the process.

Ruby flinched. Twitched her nose. Slowly pried her eyes open. "Whhhaaaa…?"

The butterfly was now origami, made of a shimmering multicolored paper. Ruby sat up, turning on her bedside lamp as she unfolded it to find a message meant for her:

"I should like to see you at my tower along with those who study the Keyblade. Come as soon as it is convenient. Sincerely, Yen Sid."

So Ruby ended up on the train with the Keyblade students that morning, zooming back and forth excitedly between cars as she yelled things akin to "THIS MAGIC TRAIN IS SO COOL!" and "LOOK OUT THE WINDOW!" and "DO YOU THINK IF WE FELL OFF THE TRAIN WE'D BE LOST TO THE VOID? THAT IS SO AWESOME!"

Riku gave Sora a light punch on the forearm; "Looks like there's two of you on board now."

"Three, technically," Sora said with a mischievous grin. "But Ruby's not one of 'em." He gestured out to Ven and Roxas.

Ven beamed; Roxas just waved and said "Hey."

"Okay, point," Riku sighed, rolling his eyes. "Which leaves me as the one true original around here."

"If I remember correctly," Lea pointed out, "Vexen made sure you weren't, back in Castle Oblivion."

"Well, Castle Oblivion isn't a place you REMEMBER things correctly," Riku teased, even though he knew Lea was right.

Ruby zoomed the length of the train, investigating it all. There was a dining car, and she wondered what sort of trip would be long enough to require its use, and how the food appeared. Probably sorcerous magic, and she wanted to see it. Then on her way back to the main car where the others were waiting –

A flash of pink in her periphery. She halted. Not all of them were waiting back in that car. One had separated herself.

Ruby settled herself down in the chair across from Kairi, who had her hands clasped together and her gaze pointed directly to the floor of the aisle. "Hey," Ruby said softly. "You doing okay?"

Kairi flinched, then looked up to meet Ruby's silver eyes. "Oh. I'm…" She shifted. "I'm fine."

"This is about what happened at Haven, isn't it?" Ruby guessed.

A slight sniffle indicated that Kairi had been on the verge of tears. "Yeah. It is."

"That wasn't your fault," Ruby said. "And that's why we're training. To get better. You can't expect to know everything after such a short amount of time. I had a whole education at Signal before I got bumped up to Beacon."

"But it seems like I never improve," Kairi said rather hoarsely. "That all I do is weigh the team down. Jaune helped put things in perspective, that maybe I don't have to fight to be valuable. But then…then I don't know if I should even keep coming to these lessons. Maybe I just need to give up and focus on something else."

"I mean, if that's what you really want," Ruby said. "But is it?"

Kairi shook her head firmly. "No. I want to protect the people I care about. I want to fight for the worlds I love. For Destiny Islands, for Radiant Garden…but why does it matter what I want? I just…can't!" She slumped. "I can't. I'm just a weight for you all whenever I try to fight."

"Whether your specialty is fighting or not," Ruby insisted, "you're not weighing us down or holding us back. We love having you with us on our adventures. You make people smile, and you care about people, and…and honestly, when I think about it, you helped us win Haven. You made the teacups. That's what gave us the edge. That's…what stopped Weiss from getting hurt when she was distracted. You know…when Kazuichi…"

Kairi tensed.

"And THAT one wasn't your fault," Ruby said sternly. "That was all on him."

"I just…could've stopped him from getting hurt," Kairi said softly.

"That's the thing," Ruby said. "In battle…there are always missed opportunities. Things we could've done better, people we could've saved. Coming out of the other end of a fight…it hurts. There are things that still haunt me. If I'd chosen to go after Yang instead of Pyrrha, or if I'd gone after Pyrrha sooner, or if I'd realized what was happening to Penny at Amity…then at least one tragedy could've been prevented. But none of that happened. And the only way I can move on is to realize that…I did what I could. And it's over now. And all that's left is the next fight." She smiled. "You always fight for your friends. And in the end, you saved us."

"But I almost died," Kairi argued.

"But you didn't," Ruby replied.

"Someone else had to save me," Kairi said.

"Yeah," Ruby told her. "We all need to rely on each other. That's why we fight in teams. Kokichi was probably the least predictable team member we could've thought of…but I think it worked out the best for him too, in the end. Now he gets to bother Pietro, and the other way around, and I know they've gotta be happy with that arrangement. So in a way, you 'failing' kinda helped him find a place too."

Now Kairi couldn't hold back a smile. "Thanks, Ruby. That helped."

Ruby shrugged; "What are gal pals for?"

The door to the adjacent car slid open. "Everything okay?" Sora asked.

"I think it is now," Kairi replied.

"Cool!" Sora gave a thumbs-up. "We have time to do one Mad Lib before we get to the tower. I wouldn't want you two to be left out."

"I'm not missing this," Ruby said as she stood up abruptly.

"Nor should you," Kairi laughed, following suit. "Between Sora, Donald, and Goofy, we get some pretty silly ones."

One Mad Lib later, the train pulled up to the tower, and the group ascended, with Ruby gasping at all the stars and moons on the way up.

"Master Yen Sid!" Mickey announced, creaking open the door to the study at the summit. "We're here!"

"Welcome," Yen Sid greeted. "Ah, and I see Miss Rose was able to make it."

"Uhhh…hi," Ruby greeted with a wave. Then she noticed the others were all giving a bow of respect, so she quickly ducked into one of her own. "It's nice to finally meet you. Sora always has great things to say about you. Well, okay, sometimes he complains about how hard you make him work, but he always says that's a good thing because he learns so much."

Yen Sid gave a soft chuckle. "A pleasant sentiment to hear."

"It's true," Sora affirmed. "Sometimes, these practices can be a real pain. Which is how I know I'm gonna be ready for anything when we're all done!"

"I don't think a Keybearer's training is ever done," Aqua pointed out. "Look at Riku and me. We're both Masters, but we still have so much to learn."

"Very astute, Master Aqua," Yen Sid replied. "Even I cannot purport to be all-knowing in my own field. Miss Rose…I have heard tell that you also seek to learn. That you hunger for new knowledge of how to improve on the battlefield."

Ruby nodded. "That's right. I was training to be a Huntress…and now I guess I'm training to save the worlds. Can you…help me with that?"

"I can only do so much," Yen Sid replied. "Your headmaster, Professor Ozpin, was far more suited to the task of teaching the art of wielding Remnant weaponry and Dust. However, what interests me is your silver eyes. Believe it or not, I once knew someone whose eyes were silver. He was born with a natural ability to use them to target Darkness and eradicate it. How unfortunately ironic that he chose to sacrifice their silver for eyes of gold – eyes that signified he wielded Darkness itself. Not an inherently erroneous choice, mind you…but the path he took afterward led nowhere but to ruin."

"Xehanort, right?" Mickey guessed.

Yen Sid nodded. "Indeed."

"Never woulda thought of him as having silver eyes," Sora admitted.

"So what you're saying is the guy who's trying to start the Keyblade War used to be like me?" Ruby reiterated.

"In a sense, yes," Yen Sid said. "Though of course, every silver-eyed warrior is a unique individual. What I am truly saying is that I know the power that sleeps within you, and what could become of it if you nurture it. It seeks Darkness, and once you control it, you can use it to battle Dark forces at will."

"But I thought not everything Dark was bad," Ruby interjected. "What about Riku?"

"Yeah," Riku added. "What about me?"

"Hence why it is so important to learn to use it at will, rather than reflexively," Yen Sid went on. "Incorrect development of the silver eyes could lead to…problems with one's Dark-aligned allies, down the road. Proper training, however, can give you a tool that is your very own."

"So you're gonna teach her how to use silver eyes!" Ven cried.

"Not I," Yen Sid corrected. "I do not have the proper knowledge to do so, and more importantly, I lack the firsthand knowledge. However, I was able to reach out to certain persons of interest on Remnant following the Atlas tragedy, and I came to an agreement with one such person. A silver-eyed warrior who agreed to become a tutor, in exchange for a certain disability aid in need of upkeep. Though it seems she is eager to learn of things outside Remnant, at that."

Ruby gasped, clasping her hands. "A real silver-eyed warrior? From my homeworld? YES! THANK YOU, THANK YOU, THANK YOUUUUU!"

Yen Sid smiled, then gestured to the side door. "She waits in the Fairies' chamber. Proceed there to get acquainted. Then, you and she shall come to the training field to study alongside the Keybearer hopefuls. Oh, and one other thing…after some discussion, she and I decided it would also be best for Kairi to meet her as well, and to observe Miss Rose's training rather than to proceed with her own."

"What?" Kairi flinched. "Is this because I…" She couldn't finish the sentence.

"I do not design curricula to punish," Yen Sid clarified. "Only to educate. This tutor possesses knowledge I believe will be significant to you."

Kairi nodded. "I understand."

"Do proceed," Yen Sid encouraged. "The rest of us shall make way to the training field."

Kairi gave a bow, and Ruby copied it hastily. Then the two girls headed through the green door into the Fairies' studio while the others talked about the day's more traditional lesson.

Right away, they heard the voice of the newcomer talking to the Fairies: "I said it and I meant it. Blue is the superior color, and I won't hear any arguments on the matter anymore."

"So there!" Merryweather said quite haughtily.

"I don't think that's right at all," Flora huffed.

"It's really only a matter of opinion, isn't it?" Fauna attempted.

"No." From the back, Ruby and Kairi could see that she was a short and elderly woman, dressed in shades of dark blue, a steel-gray braid flowing down her back. "Blue is better than pink, and that's a FACT."

"Oh, the children are here!" Fauna gasped happily.

"About time!" The woman turned around, using a walking staff topped with a carved blue sugar skull to do so. Now Kairi and Ruby could see more of her; she wore shades of varying dark blue, offsetting her deep brown skin. But the most noticeable feature was her eyes – or, rather, lack thereof. She'd previously had a pair of Atlesian cyber-eyes installed, but Yen Sid had upgraded them to a look that better suited the aesthetic of the Mysterious Tower. It looked as though she had a pair of goggles with luminous blue lenses permanently attached to her face, with bronze frames that put one in mind of inventors of old. "The two of you know how significant color is, don't you? Mind putting the debate to rest?"

Ruby shrugged. "I like red."

"I'm…not getting into this again," Kairi added.

The old woman hobbled forth a few steps. "Call me Maria Calavera," she said. "I never thought I'd be saying this again, but given the circumstances, you might as well know. They used to call me the 'Grimm Reaper.'"

"THE GRIMM REAPER?" Ruby pressed both hands to her face to gasp in awe. "My uncle Qrow ADORES you! He told me stories about you every night whenever he'd stay over at our place!"

"And I can guarantee you all of them are true," Maria boasted.

"But…" Ruby looked Maria in the eyes. Her face fell.

"Ah, yes," Maria sighed. "We silver-eyed warriors…well, the Dark forces don't particularly like when we're in play. I'm lucky I escaped with my life, the day my eyes were taken. I thought back then that my days of working as a Huntress were over. But then something happened that changed my life."

"What?" Kairi asked.

Maria thumped her staff on the floor; "Some idiots went and destroyed Atlas, so I had to make other arrangements in order to be able to see again! I couldn't very well turn it down when Yen Sid showed up and offered me a trade, now, could I?"

"He wouldn't hold your own eyesight against you," Kairi said, confused.

"Well, no, he didn't," Maria admitted. "What he did say is that I would have not only a reliable source of repairs for them, but if I chose to work for him as a tutor, then I would have the luxury of a safe place to stay away from the exact threats I'd spent my life running from…but still have the opportunity to make a difference for the better again. I had every right to turn it down, and believe me, I thought about it, especially since Yen Sid agreed to help me fix my eyes no matter the answer I gave. But in the end…well, old guilt catches up to us all. With the current storm brewing – or I suppose I should say the sheer AMOUNT of storms brewing – I didn't think it was right to live out my last years running and hiding. I used to be the Grimm Reaper, damn it! Plus, getting to learn about the cosmos was another incredible incentive. Can you believe it? We're in the middle of outer space! On a floating island!"

"It's pretty neat!" Kairi agreed.

"Not to mention the company isn't horrible," Maria teased. "When they're not arguing for the superiority of pink, that is."

"Why, you…" Flora tensed.

"But let's get down to business." Maria leaned forward, using her staff as leverage. "The two of you need to learn some very important lessons. Ruby, you'll need to learn to control your silver eyes. And Kairi…well, you'll see when we get there. Our lessons are going to be less physical than the others'."

"You mean you're not just gonna show me how to vaporize monsters with my magic eyes?" Ruby asked.

Maria sighed, shaking her head. "We've got a long way to go, I see. Let's go down to the training field and sit under the stars while we talk business."

"Oh, before you go, dear," Flora said, getting Ruby's attention with a flick of her wand, "since you're part of the class now, it's only fair you're offered the same benefits as the other students. If you want, we can draw you up a new outfit for tougher combat."

Ruby gasped, silver eyes sparkling. "YES PLEASE!"

...

Demyx had meant it when he'd said that Hans was the only person deserving of his trust. Deymos, however, was a different person shaped by different circumstances, and he was hoping to put his best foot forward and make some new friends in his new venture with the WHAM ARMY.

The WHAM ARMY was not as eager to do so with him.

That said, they already knew kicking him out without just cause wasn't an option. An alternate solution was presented: that he start off mostly working either as Vexen's personal assistant or as staff of Liquid Assets, where he would be closely observed.

Since Vexen had a full workload that day and couldn't babysit a troublemaker, Deymos was escorted to Liquid Assets in Twilight Town for his introductory shift. And by "escorted," it is of course meant that he had Archibald Snatcher and Roman Torchwick flanking him left and right while Mozenrath walked behind, gauntlet pointed at the back of his head, to make sure there was no funny business.

"Do you guys get this jumpy every time an alternate-timeline version of a traitor tries to make nice with you?" Deymos asked.

He was answered with three stares of disbelief.

"Hey, it's not as dumb as a question as it was before we all knew all this Heartless and Nobody mumbo-jumbo," Deymos argued. "Dreams coming true, memories in cards…there's a new weird thing happening every week! And you guys are still surprised by things?"

"We have a bullshit tolerance," Roman answered.

"And you're pressing the limit," Mozenrath growled.

"Now, now, gentlemen," Snatcher said quickly. "Let's not turn the worst-case scenario into a self-fulfilling prophecy, shall we?"

Roman and Mozenrath both grumbled under their breaths, but nothing actually audible.

"Y'know, I always liked this town," Deymos remarked. "Used to come here to goof off a lot when I was trying to avoid missions. Always bugged me how Axel kept hogging the clock tower and had a monopoly on the ice cream guy, but there's plenty of ways to have fun around here. Before Roxas showed up, I used to have a meal ticket in this place. Y'know, somebody to give me food, alibis, and excuses. Wonder what she's up to now? Might never know."

"How classy," Roman sighed.

"But you know I've been at the Organization XIII game for a pretty long time," Deymos said. "Been visiting this town for ten years waiting for Xemnas to get his act together and find some Keyblades. That's the nice thing about not aging due to goblin magic. You get more time to just slow down and enjoy the little things in life. You guys ever do that? I feel like you don't do that. You guys are pretty uptight."

"I mean, I'd like to think we know how to have a good time," Roman grumbled. "Depending on the company. Not real fun to spend a whole day playing dumbass carnival games with a fake friend, but when the TRUST is there, that's when things happen."

"Yeah, I feel like you'd be good at stuff that involves hitting targets," Deymos mused. "Like, I dunno – "

"Crossbow shooting?" Roman sneered. "Throwing apples at people with swords?"

Deymos scratched his head. "Is there something I'm missing?"

"No," Roman huffed.

Deymos took a few paces, thinking it over. "You're, like…the music guy, right?" he asked Snatcher.

"In many respects," Snatcher replied tentatively.

"I feel like you'd be a Queen fan," Deymos mused.

"Yes, yes," Snatcher muttered, "you're Mr. Bowie, I'm Mr. Mercury, Under Pressure and all that."

"Whaaaa…?" Deymos tilted his head. "Okay, never mind." He fired a look over his shoulder at Mozenrath. "But you're the magic guy. I know that much."

"Don't degrade me like that," Mozenrath growled. "I'm a sorcerer and an expert in the field."

"Cool," Deymos told him. "Also, you're constantly dying, right?"

Mozenrath's brow furrowed. "Don't make me eradicate you early in the game."

"I'm just saying that I found a way to stop aging," Deymos said, "so maybe we can get you hooked up with some goblin mojo. Well, okay, I've never tried to combine that with a life-force-sucker. And I definitely wasn't immortal. On second thought, you're probably better off bothering Emet-Selch about it. You can't even touch that guy. I'm hoping I get to be there when we all decide to test what the worst thing is he can survive."

"Thought about that," Mozenrath sighed, rolling his eyes. "Zodiark and Hydaelyn hightailed it as far away from Remnant as he could go, and we have zero read on where they're hiding out. Not to mention the inherent risk of causing an unnecessary apocalypse if we do find them. So no. Not an option. Though given that Emet-Selch survived the entirety of the Great Remnant War AND the angry mobs that came after him for causing it, I'm sure all we have to do to answer that question is ask."

Roman stopped dead in his tracks.

"Roman?" Snatcher asked. "Is everything all right?"

"Oh my gods." Roman's eyes widened. "He's THAT Emet-Selch?"

There was silence. Then Deymos burst out guffawing. "YOU DIDN'T KNOW? YOU? HE WAS FROM YOUR WORLD!"

"It's a common name, okay!" Roman argued.

"NO IT ISN'T!" Deymos cackled.

"It truly isn't," Snatcher agreed with a grin.

"It's good for you that you have Snatcher and me to be the brains for you, isn't it, Roman?" Mozenrath teased.

"I'm not stupid!" Roman argued.

"Aww, somebody's upset," Mozenrath said in a mocking tone. "Is it because he's jealous of the kids that got to graduate while he was held back a grade?"

"Well, I mean, I had a social life," Roman retorted. "You had…a flying eel you don't talk to anymore."

"Xerxes?" Deymos said. "I love that guy! Why don't you talk to him?"

"He's rather endearing once you get to know him, isn't he?" Snatcher mused.

"I didn't need FRIENDS to be successful early on in life!" Mozenrath snapped.

"We're well aware," Snatcher replied. "And the manner in which you amass allies now is in no way a compensation for lost time, nor a desperate cry for validation. Certainly not."

"Look who's talking," Mozenrath snorted.

"I haven't the slightest what you're referring to," Snatcher replied smugly.

"C'mon, guys," Deymos urged, "isn't the important thing that we all have each other now? And no matter how repulsive you guys were or are, none of you will ever have anything on Xemnas himself, and that's science right there."

"How bad was it?" Roman asked.

Deymos answered by making his voice as deep as possible and doing unnecessarily grandiose hand gestures; "TO HAVE A HEEAAAARRRT IS TO BE WEEEAAAAK AND TO BE WEEEAAAK IS TO NOT HAVE A HEAAARRRT, WHICH IS WHY WE NEED HEEEAAARRRRTS, BECAUSE TO DO AN OXYMORON IS TO EMBRACE THE DUAL NATURE OF LIGHT DARK LIGHT DARK LIGHT DARK NOTHINGNESS INDEEEEEEEED."

That set all four of them off laughing. Mozenrath then noticed he'd had his gauntlet lowered for a while.

"We're here," he said gruffly, noting the shop façade up ahead.

"Great!" Deymos chirped. "I can't WAIT for my first shift to spend my fifteen napping in the break room for an hour."

Nobody argued. Everyone knew that was part of the deal.

Inside the shop, there had been a bit of a kerfuffle. An old woman who reminded Yzma far too much of her mother Azma had shown up looking for youth potions, and Yzma had decided she was going to make herself scarce for this one and make it her employees' problem. That meant Megavolt was the first to greet the woman, and, completely forgetting that "youth potions" were stored on the left side of the shop, showed her the shelf on the right side, which was bare.

"Huh." He scratched his head. "Coulda sworn we had a full inventory."

Then out came Rachel with a broom in one hand and one of the financial books in the other. "Hey, Rachel?" Megavolt called over. "We're out of fake – I mean totally real youth potions."

"Not now!" Rachel snapped. "I've been here for twenty minutes and I've spent that time cleaning up the mess from Quackerjack doing nothing all day!" She planted the broom between aisles, crouching down to sweep up a spilled poisonous powder while reading over the financial sheet to try and figure out where she'd made a mistake.

There was a dual click of two shoes before her. "I don't care if you've only been here TWENTY MINUTES," the elderly woman said. "You should get up and look for what I want!"

Rachel froze. Here, in WHAM ARMY territory, she'd been learning to release the beast. To get angry, and not be sorry about it. But when she most wanted to be angry was when she was certain she'd been wronged. In this case, she realized the customer was not, in fact, wrong.

"I'm sorry," she said, straightening up. "I've just had a – "

"I don't CARE," the woman said, stamping a foot. "You're just a rude little girl, and you shouldn't be working here if you're going to snap at people!"

"I…" Rachel took a step back. "I'm sorry. I have to go – "

"Why?" the woman urged. "Did I UPSET you?" She pointed at Rachel. "What's this girl's name? Someone tell me her name!"

Then there was the slam of another foot being put down. A wall of maroon stood between Rachel and the customer. "Do we have a problem?" Tony Dracon growled at the woman.

"You're damn right we have a problem!" the woman insisted. "That girl – "

"Woman," Tony corrected. "And all I see is you antagonizing her because you didn't get what you wanted on a silver platter. Or do you think she can make what you want appear out of thin air?"

"She MOUTHED OFF to me!" the woman complained.

"She mouthed off to our dear friend Megavolt," Tony corrected. "Who, quite honestly, deserves it half the time."

"Heheh…it's true," Megavolt sighed.

"She still should've put ME first!" the woman insisted. "I'm a customer!"

"And she's a retail worker," Tony reminded her. "Now, I can already see you have some problems with critical thinking, but surely you recognize who's on what end of the power balance here."

"BUT – "

"Get out," Tony demanded. "Before we have bigger problems than your entitlement. And before the lady you're victimizing gets to clean up a mess off the floor that's gonna be a little harder to wipe up than powdered iocane."

"Are you FUCKING THREATENING ME?" The woman took a step back. "MANAGER! I DEMAND TO SEE A MANAGER!"

"Oh, for Pete's sake – " Yzma finally stepped into the front room. "I'm the manager, and the employee handbook states that all people who've taken cashier training have the right to nonfatally maim anyone who impedes the course of business! Now, Megavolt still hasn't graduated past shelf stocker, so you're safe from him. Anthony, on the other hand…" She chuckled.

The woman turned and bolted.

"Good," Yzma sighed. "Let's hope she never comes back. I was getting dance lesson flashbacks." And with that, she swept into the back room once more.

Tony turned to give Rachel a smile that was mostly earnest but not devoid of smugness. "My apologies for having to deal with her kind."

Rachel, who was having trouble articulating a thought beyond how inappropriate it would be to throw her arms around him and squeal with joy, could only muster up a nervous giggle of gaiety in response.

"So that's the way to your heart," Tony remarked. "Standing up for you when you play the victim. Can't say I don't respect it. After all, I like being able to stand up for my own. Takes some of the fun out of it if they beat me to it."

Rachel bristled. "I didn't PLAY the victim. I was one. She was a bitch."

"No one's arguing that last statement."

"…She would."

"Haven't you learned from hanging out with us villains, Cupcake?" Tony urged. "People lie. I've never pled guilty in court. And I said it with such conviction, they believed it."

Rachel shuffled a foot. "Yeah, well, you're the fun kind of evil."

"I know. You're getting there too, you know."

"Thanks." She smiled up at him, then remembered she had a poison control incident to follow up on. Squatting down over the mess and the ledger, she muttered, "But this wouldn't've happened if Quackerjack hadn't been doing fucking nothing all day – "

"Lemme take a look at that." Tony picked up the ledger, scanning it. "I'm guessing it's not adding up."

"No."

"If I find the mistake before you do, are you gonna feel patronized?"

"Yes."

"Even if I ask nicely to find it, and I say please?"

Rachel thought it over. "Okay. Try to find where I messed up."

His eyes locked in on it. "You've got a 112 where there should be a 121."

"Fucking hell."

"Relax, Cupcake," Tony assured. "I've been working with this stuff for sales shipments for a few years now, and I'm not exaggerating when I say it's life-or-death. I know how to spot it."

"I just can't do math in my head," Rachel argued, sweeping up the last of the iocane.

"But everyone's spelling has gotten a lot better since you've been around," Tony told her.

She smirked; "I'm not letting us embarrass ourselves that way." Then she moved to dump the iocane in a hazard bin.

Tony brought the ledger around to the front counter, using a pen to make the amendment. "There. Should add up now."

"Thanks," Rachel replied. "For everything today. I owe you."

"No, you don't," Tony replied. "That was all pro bono. It's what friends do for friends, isn't it?" A wink on the word "friends."

"Yeah," Rachel replied, fidgeting and looking away. "It is."

"Say, there's something I've wondered about you," Tony told her. "How is it that a lady like you with a feisty attitude and a pretty face hasn't been snapped up by Mr. Right yet?"

"It's complicated," Rachel replied. "The whole asexual thing is a big damper."

"I can imagine," Tony replied. "I've had to ask myself if that's what I'd want, personally. You might be interested to know my answer."

She knew where he was going, what he was trying, but her next point was the reason why she wasn't going to indulge it. "I don't really put myself out there, either," she said. "I've had…one boyfriend. Didn't end well."

"Oh? What happened?" He leaned one hand on the counter, looking at her slyly over it.

"Well…" She shifted, unable to look directly at him. "He was everything I ever wanted. Handsome and quirky and funny, and he knew a lot of weird trivia, and I dunno, he was exciting. He would just act like a total fool in public and it was FUN. I wanted to be a part of that. He was noticeable around here, so I kept trying to get his attention. Of course, I was too fucking shy to actually walk up to him and ask him out. Then…then one day he finally comes up to me and says he's had his eye on me. I couldn't believe it. I was over the moon. So then we had a few dates, and a few more, and I guess I just…chose not to see it when he only liked talking about himself and how smart he was and things he knew. And didn't care what I did. And thought it was juvenile that I write fanfiction. Double juvenile that it was crossover fanfiction. He actually said people grow out of it when they're twelve! Ohhhh, and he always put down my interests. He said Bulletproof Hearts was a bunch of cliché bullshit. Like he's read every other fantasy book out there or something. But who cares if it's trash? It's MY trash, okay? I just – " She sighed. "I put up with it because he made my heart race. I was happy to even think about him existing. I guess I just built up a fantasy version of him in my head. The real thing could never have been what I wanted. In the end, he called it off and wouldn't say why, and then I never saw him again. For all I know, he's dead. I HOPE he's dead. Because if I ever see him again, I'll probably kill him myself."

"Cupcake, please," Tony teased. "I already told you it takes the fun out of it if you beat me to it. You just point me to him and I'll take care of it for you. Besides…we all know you couldn't pull the trigger."

"I so could!" Rachel argued indignantly. "I could push him onto the train track!"

All Tony had to do was stare her down before she crumbled; "Okay, no I couldn't do that. But I could watch you do it for me. I could also beat the shit out of him, so let me do that first and we'll be golden."

"It's a deal, Cupcake."

A little bell signaled the door opening. "And here we are!" Snatcher introduced. "Your new place of employment!"

"Nice, nice." Deymos stepped in, looking around; Roman and Mozenrath filed in behind him. "Horrible interior design, some nice comfy chairs to goof off in, looks like the place is already clean so I don't have to do anything…I'm liking this so far."

Then his eyes turned forward to lock with those of the woman at the counter. And he froze. And so did she.

"Rachel?" Deymos said, cocking his head.

"DEMYX?" Rachel flinched.

"He-hey!" Deymos put up a hand. "Long time, no see! I was just saying how I was wondering what you were up to – "

"YOU'RE FUCKING DEAD!" Rachel shrieked at top volume.

Deymos had precious few moments to utter "Oh, FOOFIE – " before she launched herself at him, bashing away with the broom.

"THIS IS FOR SAYING MY HOBBIES WERE IMMATURE BULLSHIT!" Rachel screamed.

"Ow, ow, OW!" Deymos flinched under the broom that whacked him. "I never said that, okay? I said those books you were reading were garbage for twelve-year-olds! That's a big difference!"

"YOU RUINED MY CONFIDENCE! YOU BROKE MY HEART! I'M OUT HUNDREDS OF MUNNY FROM ALL THOSE DINNER DATES YOU MADE ME FUCKING PAY FOR!"

"OWOWOWOWWWWWWWW CAN YOU LET ME EXPLAIN? I HAVE A GOOD EXCUSE! I…uh…I never liked you and I was just using you to waste time, so really, my insults don't matter, because they didn't come from the heart! Which I didn't even have anyway!"

That just got Rachel to shriek wordlessly and continue her assault even faster.

"…That's the cashier we have posted as our public figurehead?" Mozenrath said.

"I like her," Roman said flatly.

"Quite agreed," Snatcher stated with a nod.

"As far as first impressions go," Mozenrath added, "this is a pretty high note."

There was a click as Tony aimed a sleek black pistol in Rachel and Deymos' direction. "Say the word, Cupcake," Tony told her. "But not until you've had your fill."

"WHAT THE HELL DO YOU MEAN YOU NEVER LIKED ME?" Rachel screamed as she kneed Deymos in the groin. "I WORSHIPPED YOU!"

"Heyheyheyyyyy!" Deymos keened. "In my defense, I don't even LIKE girls!"

"You were the ONLY guy who ever paid me any attention!" Rachel screeched. "And you're telling me that was FAKE?"

"Hey, now!" Deymos put up his hands. "That says a lot more about you than it does about – OOF!" The broom handle jabbed him in the solar plexus.

"WHAT is going on here?" Yzma hurried onto the sales floor.

"I don't know," Megavolt said timidly, "and I'm very scared right now."

Yzma tensed up; "ANTHONY DRACON, WHAT HAVE I SAID ABOUT SHOOTING THE CUSTOMERS? NONLETHAL MAIMING ONLY!"

"He's not a customer," Tony informed her. "He's a man I've sworn to kill in the past five minutes as of learning about him."

"Wait, WHAT?" Mozenrath gave a start.

Rachel finally backed down. "I've had enough of you," she growled. "Tony? MURDER THE FUCK OUT OF THE BASTARD."

There was a bang. Mozenrath deflected the ammo, and a whole shelf's worth of bottles exploded into green liquid.

"Ohhhh, THAT'S the shelf with the youth potions on it!" Megavolt laughed. "I'm such a moron!"

"Well, it ain't anymore!" Quackerjack chimed in before going back to doing nothing.

Tony tried to aim again, but Roman rushed him, driving up the Cudgel to pivot the barrel of the pistol. "Will you KNOCK IT OFF?" Roman growled. "We were JUST starting to like this guy, and we kinda promised our resident asshole scientist we'd bring him back alive!"

Snatcher attempted to put his hands on Rachel's shoulders to hold her back; "Calm down now, miss. Once you hear our side – "

"DON'T YOU FUCKING TOUCH ME!" Rachel wrenched herself away. "Tony, throw me the fucking gun!"

"NO!" Snatcher swept her into a tight embrace from behind, picking her up so her feet were off the floor. She struggled and screeched, to no avail.

"Sooooo…" Deymos giggled nervously. "I'm thinking pretending to like this chick just to get some free food and an alibi wasn't the best plan in the long run. Man, did I ever not think that one through…"

Snatcher locked eyes with Mozenrath. "GET THEIR ATTENTION!"

Mozenrath lifted his right hand. A sonorous boom filled the shop; everyone flinched. "You're all going to stop RIGHT NOW," Mozenrath roared, "unless you want the whole store to go down in FLAMES!"

"MR. DRACON!" Snatcher pointed. "TO THE CORNER, AND WEAPON DOWN! MR. DEYMOS! TO THE OPPOSITE CORNER, AND NO WEAPON OF YOUR OWN! MISS WHATEVERITIS, YOU'RE GOING TO SIT DOWN IN THIS CHAIR – "

He dumped Rachel onto one of the plush armchairs; she let out an "Oof!"

"And NOT GET UP FROM IT," Snatcher demanded. "MR. SPUTTERSPARK, STAND RIGHT THERE AND DON'T MAKE THINGS WORSE. MR. JACK, EXIT STAGE LEFT. MISS YZMA, DON'T YOU DARE ATTEMPT TO SLINK OUT ON ME – I CAN SEE YOU WERE HEADED FOR THE BACK ENTRANCE – AND ROMAN, SHOOT ANYONE WHO DISOBEYS!"

"Or we could do this the easy way," Mozenrath said. With a wave of his hand, blue chains bound everyone into place.

"Quite so, Lord Mozenrath," Snatcher said with a nod. "Good show. Much more convenient."

"Less fun than me getting to shoot somebody, though," Roman mused. "Then again, it's not that I particularly wanted to kill off anyone here…eh, fuck it. We've got a necromancer."

"Now you're all going to tell me WHAT is going on – " Snatcher began.

"And the reason any of this happened had better be GOOD," Mozenrath seethed.

Of course, everyone tried to talk at once, and it was hard to parse out, but eventually it seemed that the facts were these: Deymos had feigned romantic interest in Rachel, back when he was Demyx, in order to get her to buy him food and take him to more fun things than Organization missions. He'd also belittled her a lot, which wasn't surprising, since he was Deymos. She'd taken it hard and always half-seriously sworn to kill him. In her dark descent, that had become fully serious, and Tony, who was obviously trying to cozy up to her despite no one saying it out loud, had taken up his sworn duty to kill the man who'd wronged her. Also, a customer had thrown a tantrum in the shop about ten minutes ago. Also, it wasn't that Yzma had hated dance lessons, but she'd always felt that the activity had put undue pressure on her that fostered a possible inferiority complex later in life that she was hesitant to admit.

So then the other side had to be presented, about how Deymos was a time duplicate of an old traitor who was brought back into the fold, and it wasn't like anyone there was getting attached to having him back on the team or anything, but they'd really, really promised Vexen he wouldn't be thrown out or killed (yet).

"In conclusion," Snatcher noted, "it seems all parties have legitimate motivations and grievances, and the only solution is to come to a compromise. Such things usually consist of a meeting halfway, so to speak. Mr. Deymos, you would say Miss Inlustris has beaten you half to death, would you not?"

"Uh, yeah, I would!" Deymos spat.

"Then there you have it," Snatcher declared. "Half dead. A compromise has been reached."

"Well, this is gonna be fun to watch play out," Roman said. "We'd better bring popcorn to these."

"Play out?" Rachel yelled. "PLAY OUT? You're gonna make me work with HIM? I can't quit this job! It's the only place that will actually allow me to be myself!"

"So don't quit," Mozenrath told her. "Put up with Deymos. You don't have to like him. After all, we don't."

"I think it's rather clear you're only saying you don't like him so you don't have to admit anything," Yzma brought up. "Rachel ACTUALLY can't stand him."

"I do believe yet another compromise can be reached in this situation," Snatcher declared. "Mr. Deymos, can you swear to maintain a good distance from Miss Inlustris and only discuss sheer business matters with her?"

"Believe me," Deymos grunted, "I'm not letting her close enough to whack my private parts again."

"And Miss Inlustris – " Snatcher began.

"NO!" Rachel cried. "I'll have actual panic attacks! I CAN'T!"

"And for what reason can you not?" Snatcher asked.

"HELLO?" Rachel argued. "Were you not listening to ANY OF IT?"

"I was, and quite well," Snatcher said. "Seems to me you've not quite worked out your residual feelings, and we wouldn't be having this problem if you didn't still find him a pinnacle of the male form."

That shut Rachel up quickly, her mouth opening and closing rapidly without any sound.

"Do not attempt the game of denial around me, Miss Inlustris," Snatcher told her mischievously. "I am a reigning champion at it. I know how to spot it. As it were, I should think honesty about one's vulnerability would solve the problem."

Rachel broke. Through tears, she sniffled, "He's just gonna hurt me again!"

"It's not my fault you still think I'm hot!" Deymos retorted. Then he chuckled. "Oh, man, this all happened because you think I'm hot. I call that a win – "

"Don't," Roman said, firing him an exasperated look. "Just…just don't."

"Oh, he shan't harm you again, physically or emotionally speaking." Snatcher strode toward her. "For if he does, he shall be most fittingly punished for going against the contract we agreed to, which includes withholding from friendly fire. Not to mention that should he attempt any more traitorous activities, your guard dog Mr. Dracon is more than allowed to step in."

"Now that's the first sensible thing I've heard here," Tony huffed.

"But NO. FALSE. REPORTS." Snatcher pointed to Rachel on every word for emphasis.

"I'm just scared," Rachel sobbed, because she knew she couldn't lie. "What if I fall for him again, okay? What if that happens?"

"Well, this time, he'll gently remind you that he isn't interested," Mozenrath said. "And NOT USE THAT KNOWLEDGE FOR ANYTHING OPPORTUNISTIC, OR OUR DEAL IS NULL AND VOID." He glared at Deymos.

"Oooooh, someone's in trouuuu-blllllle!" Roman teased.

"She's our best employee," Yzma sighed, "and our first-quarter sales are skyrocketing. Don't ruin this for us."

"I thought you actively encouraged her to be a bitch to the Karens," Roman told Yzma.

"Well, the sales are skyrocketing because of Liquidator, not her," Yzma said. "But we don't want any Kayaras in here anyway. It's rule number one of the employee handbook: customers are not allowed to disrespect, condescend, heckle, or physically harm the employees!"

"Did you just replace the word 'Karen' with an Inca one?" Megavolt asked.

"Was I not supposed to?" Yzma retorted.

Megavolt thought it over. "Nah. I mean no, you weren't not."

"I mean, I can see why she's the best employee, though," Roman said. "Place looks spotless aside from what we broke, and more importantly, she went to TOWN on Dishwater here. And that's the kind of customer service only the WHAM ARMY can offer."

"Hey, I got a nickname!" Deymos chirped.

Tony forced a smile. "Well, I guess that's that. If we all play by the rules, then we can just be one big happy family."

"If I let you go," Mozenrath asked, "will you immediately start a brawl again?"

"No," Rachel sighed.

"Not immediately," Tony grumbled.

"I just wanna lie down with some ice," Deymos squeaked.

Mozenrath relinquished their bindings in a puff of blue smoke. "All the same," he said, "I get the feeling we should have a little more supervision in this area of the operation."

"Yeah, I wanna see the next episode of this soap opera," Roman agreed.

"After all," Snatcher sighed, "it does seem you can't get anything done without requiring my expert mediation."

"So, you're, like…in charge around here?" Rachel asked. Looking directly at Snatcher.

"Why, Miss Inlustris – " Snatcher began.

"No, he's not," Mozenrath said flatly. "I am."

Snatcher bristled; it had been worth a try. "Well, to be fair, Lord Mozenrath, Miss Yzma, Roman, and myself are all upper echelon of the syndicate for which you are currently a limb."

Rachel nodded. "It's nice to meet you."

"The pleasure is mine, Miss Inlustris," Snatcher told her. "Archibald Snatcher, at your service. You will of course refer to me by surname at this stage."

Rachel nodded.

Snatcher paused. "What's this? No mockery? No laughter?"

"I mean, it's an unfortunate name," Rachel replied, "but no. I actually kinda feel bad for you."

"Yes, well, I'm in no need of pity." Snatcher clapped her on the shoulder. "Now go dry off those tears; we've work to do."

"Awww, you made a friend!" Roman said as Rachel hurried off to the break room.

"You know," Mozenrath said, "it's about time we checked in on this side of the operation more often." He scanned the walls: half sick green and half rainbow graffiti. "An aesthetic tune-up was long overdue."

With a wave of his hand, he replaced it all with a palette of deep blues, burgundies, and violets. "There," he said. "NOW I'm proud to have my name on this place."

"My name, actually," Yzma clarified. "We're registered under Yz-Mart, LLC."

Mozenrath waved it off. "Details, details."

...

There was a space on the lawn cleared out beside the Mysterious Tower, beneath the sparkling starry sky, some distance off from the training grounds. Elegant patio furniture was arranged: several chairs, a table, no parasol. Maria Calavera, Ruby Rose, and Kairi occupied three of these chairs.

Ruby's clothing had changed moderately, thanks to the Three Fairies. A shorter, red pleated skirt. Her rose emblem moved from the scarf to the belt. More streamlined sleeves, on a bodice with a red upper panel. Long black gloves, because they looked cool. And as the cherry on top, a rougher haircut, with her bangs asymmetrical.

"The first and most important thing to remember is that you can't just rely on the silver eyes to solve everything," Maria began. "After all…when I lost my own eyes, what saved my life that day were my combat skills and my Semblance. Those will be the most useful tools in your arsenal."

Ruby nodded while Kairi wondered how this could possibly apply to her.

"Now, because the silver eyes only react to Grimm – well, Darkness, I guess," Maria amended. "I've had to learn some new things myself, and are they ever confusing! At any rate, you can't just call upon them willy-nilly. What I'm aiming to do is teach you to get into a state of mind that will allow you to call upon the powers of the eyes at will…and also be cognizant of when to hold them back."

"What do I have to do?" Ruby asked.

"Your eyes have activated before, haven't they?" Maria urged. "Think back. What did all of those times have in common?"

Ruby thought it over. "Pyrrha…Amaterasu…I lost someone both of those times."

"Well, yes," Maria told her, "but it's a little simpler than that. What did you feel?"

"Anger," Ruby said. "Disappointment. Grief."

"No, no, no!" Maria chided. "That stuff all came AFTER. What happened when your eyes activated, in that exact moment?"

Ruby kept thinking. "There was…that moment when I thought it couldn't be true. Like if I acted fast, if I did something, then Pyrrha and Amaterasu would still be alive. Both times, it was too late, but…but my brain didn't register it yet. All I wanted to do was to protect them. And protect the friends I had with me from the same fate."

"There you are!" Maria cheered. "The silver eyes come from a place of caring, of love and protection. What drives our kind is the desire to save those we love. To keep what is precious to us."

"That's it," Kairi realized.

"Oh?" Maria replied coyly. "Did we have a sudden epiphany?"

"Protecting others," Kairi said. "Twice now, I've been able to summon an Attraction Flow that turned the tide, when normally, that's one of the hardest things to do. The first time was when Dilan tried to take Kazuichi away, and Team Lightyear showed up. Then the second time was when I saw Kazuichi get hurt, and – "

Her nose wrinkled. "Oh. I'm…starting to also figure out I'm not the BIGGEST disaster on our team."

"Yeah, I wasn't sure how to break that one politely," Ruby admitted. "That boy is a trouble magnet. But you don't think he's dead weight, do you?"

"NO!" Kairi yelled. "Of course not!"

"If he's not," Ruby told her, "then you're not."

"Both times…I wanted to protect my friends." Kairi knotted her fingers together in her lap. "That's when it happens without me even thinking. Yen Sid must've known that. That's why he paired me off with you…because the state of mind for the silver eyes is the same state of mind I need to summon my own powers."

"Smart girl," Maria said. "There's never any harm in learning how someone else's weapon handles, so to speak."

"So how do we get there?" Ruby asked.

"Close your eyes," Maria instructed, and both of her students did so. "Now think about the people you care about most. Memories with them that make you happy. Think about places you've been with them that hold fond memories…"

While that lesson went on, a more traditional practice session was taking place on the course. Sora was rapidly becoming an expert in the Wingblade Command Style, and had challenged Riku to a spar so he could show that off. However, Riku had already mastered the Dark Impulse style, and so what Sora thought would be an easy victory turned out to be a nail-biting struggle. Riku's quick moves skirted all of Sora's dual-handed strikes, and it came down to the final blow, when Sora plunged from above while Riku emerged from a Dark portal in the ground to meet him. Sora was the one who went flying, landing on his back.

"Hmph." Riku smirked as he walked over to give Sora a hand up. "Better luck next time."

"I just need more practice," Sora said as Riku pulled him to his feet. "That's all. I'll beat you. But you're really good, you know."

Ven nudged Aqua; "Remember when the Master showed us the first Command Styles we could learn? He used Wingblade, then. I still can't get the image out of my mind."

"It was pretty," Aqua said, bristling because the subject she'd been dreading had been broached.

"But…" Ven turned back to the field. "He'd be so angry to know that we were using Dark Impulse now. That style was forbidden. The only ones who used it were – "

"Ven, there's something I have to tell you," Aqua blurted. "But not here. We need to be alone."

"…Okay," Ven said tentatively.

She led him into the tower, where she sat down on the foot of the stairs and gestured beside her. Ven sat down as well.

"Master Yen Sid and King Mickey have been journeying to the worlds our Master made a pilgrimage to," Aqua began, looking straight ahead so she didn't have to meet Ven's gaze. "They found out about the things he'd done, the people whose lives he'd changed."

"Wow," Ven replied. "I'd always wanted to know more about that. I never understood why he didn't tell us those things. I get that he was humble, but hearing how he saved other worlds, how he was a hero, that would've set us on an amazing path of inspiration."

"Ven, he wasn't a hero," Aqua said hastily. "He's not the person he thought we was. Or…maybe the person we thought he was is only half the story."

"Aqua? What are you saying?"

"He thought in black and white," Aqua said. "Good and evil, Light and Dark. He believed in a purity that didn't exist. People's lives were ruined because of him. All of his closest friends…the ones he met on other worlds…he drove them to despair by expecting too much of them. By trying so hard to make every world perfect. That's what he thought it meant to save it. I can tell you some of the stories later, but…it lines up with a lot of the things we always took for granted. How he lied to you, how we had to obey his orders without question, how he would never let us treat him like a real father. But out of all of that…the most important thing is something I already knew. Something I should've seen the true nature of right when it happened."

Now she forced herself to look down into Ven's blue, blue eyes. "He tried to hurt you, Ven," she said solemnly. "He made you think the only choice was to stop existing. That your heart wasn't valuable, compared to what he'd be saving. And then, when Terra tried to protect you, to do what any friend should do…he tried to hurt Terra, too." A tear slid down her cheek. "No. He tried to KILL Terra, and you too. If he'd won that fight…I might not have either of my best friends in all the worlds." The tears came more rapidly. "Terra's still out there, at least, but I drove him away, all because I thought the Master was right and shouldn't be questioned. And now he's in Xehanort's hands. And you…you – oh, Ven!"

She surged forward, pulling Ven into a tight hug. "I'll never let it happen again," Aqua sobbed. "Not ever! Your heart is valuable, and it deserves to exist!"

"Even if…there's no other way?" Ven asked softly. "Ending me…would've saved us all."

"No," Aqua babbled. "Xehanort would've had another plan, another way. He has that other plan right now. The Keyblade War. Ending you would've pushed him to that earlier, and you would've been lost for NOTHING. It was thinking of you and Terra that got me through the Realm of Darkness without wanting to bring on my own end. If I'd lost that – if I'd lost you – if you or Terra had died that day – I'll NEVER forgive him for almost bringing that to pass! And I'll NEVER forgive him for making you think you deserved to die! And Terra…I don't know if I even understand the extent of everything he did to Terra, but that's how it started. He made Terra feel inferior, worthless, at the Mark of Mastery exam, because he wasn't perfect. That created an opening for Xehanort to come in, and…and it all happened because of him and how he treated us!" And with that, she lost her ability to formulate words. Only choked sobs.

"Aqua…" Ven shuddered, his own tears welling up. "I…I loved him. He was the only real father I ever knew. But he…he didn't love me, did he? He was…evil."

Aqua sniffled. "That's the same mistake he made. Thinking anything is just good or just bad. I think he loved us as much as he could. I think he loved us in the way he believed was love. And I know he believed he was doing what was best for everyone. His actions were horrible…but also selfless. I don't think it helps any of us to think of him as just evil. I…I still love him, too. I can't stop. Not after he was such a big part of my life. But as much as I love him, I won't forgive him, not because of what he is, but what he's done."

Ven wrapped his arms around Aqua in return. "He can't hurt us anymore," he said softly. "I wish…I wish there was some other way it could've ended. But…now we know. And I'm done not wanting to exist, Aqua. I learned that about myself these past few days. I want to live to experience these worlds and what they have to show me. I want to live for the people who love me, like you and Terra and Papyrus. And I want to share those things with those people."

"We should've traveled together back then," Aqua said softly.

"We can do that now," Ven reminded her. "And I promise I'll never let anyone hurt you, either, or make you think you shouldn't exist."

"We'll make it right," Aqua vowed. "We'll fight for each other."

"Always."

They remained there, in each other's arms, for the duration of the rest of the others' lesson.

...

Emet-Selch cluelessly thought that he could escape the madness if he retired to the warship library. The only other person he spotted there was Vexen, browsing wordy tomes, and he knew well that if he didn't engage Vexen in conversation, he could avoid any annoyance.

What he couldn't avoid was Roman Torchwick kicking in the door and storming over to him while grumbling, "So were you gonna tell me that you were THE Emet-Selch Ascian who started the Great War or what?"

Emet-Selch looked at Roman in disbelief. Blinked. Shook his head ever so slightly. "I take it this is…news."

"Why does everyone assume this was so easy to put together?" Roman groaned.

"By all rights, it should've been," Emet-Selch replied. "Then again, that is presuming an intelligence of a reasonable caliber."

"Okay, YOU KNOW WHAT, DIPSHIT – " Roman shut his eyes, shaking his head. "No. I'm not here to argue. I just wanna know…how."

"How I became immortal?"

"How you committed the most epic act of destruction on my home world in recorded history. And how the likes of me can follow suit."

Emet-Selch rolled his eyes. "One would need to be immortal and have years to plan out a political infiltration. Moreover, my War was a paltry dark deed compared to when Salem wrenched my whole world from my grasp."

Roman flinched. "You knew her back then, didn't you? She was always weirdly guarded about telling us anything beyond her desire for some 'new world order.'"

"Order?" Emet-Selch sniffed. "What she seeks is the purest form of destruction. An end to all."

"Uhhh…" Roman put the pieces together. "And…does she realize that means she would also be dead, with no benefits?"

"That is indeed her goal," Emet-Selch confirmed. "Always she has been an irrational sort."

"Do Bitch Queen and the crew know this?"

"I can only presume that very few associates of hers would be privy to the entirety of her desires."

"You're gonna tell me the story." Roman pointed to him. "Now."

"What sway has a fragment over a god?" Emet-Selch replied. "In what manner do I owe you obedience? Surely you see by now that your very name is a ripple from the stone I have thrown into the great ocean."

"Okaaaay, fine," Roman said with a smirk. "Then I'll just assume you lucked into everything. You're just putting up a big old bluff, aren't you? Mr. Immortal isn't anything special."

"I've naught to prove to you." Emet-Selch paused, thinking it over. "…And yet perhaps it would behoove you to see the particular reasons why you should respect me."

Roman leaned back, smirk widening. "Called it."

"Our story begins in a city called Amaurot," Emet-Selch began, raising his hand high. "A bastion of culture, lost to time in all but my memory alone."

He snapped his fingers to summon the grand illusion. The library seemed to disappear, leaving Roman and Emet-Selch standing in the main thoroughfare of Amaurot.

Then came the great frost. A layer of ice crystals shot through the city, enveloping everything in sight.

"What interference is this?" Emet-Selch asked in disbelief. The frost hadn't been his idea. He let the illusion fall so that he and Roman could now see the ice-covered library.

Roman realized it first. "Oh."

Vexen stared at them both, wide-eyed. The frost radiated out from around him; his shield was held up protectively.

"We don't…make that noise around here," Roman told Emet-Selch.

"Oh, I understand now," Emet-Selch replied. "A trauma relived? A memory – "

"You know NOTHING of what you're talking about!" Vexen stormed past them, whacking Emet-Selch with his shield en route. The immortal collapsed into an armchair while Roman gave them both a wide berth.

"Weak," Vexen cursed himself as he stormed toward the basement. "Coward, craven, virtual INVALID! This cannot continue! I must stamp this out once and for all before it manifests in a way that adds injury to the insult! I will NO LONGER be a laughingstock, quivering with fear, before ANY of them!"

The rollercoaster ride blew on by, and then he was in the laboratory, where Drakken and Ravess were waiting at his lab station. "Ah, there you are!" Ravess greeted with a wide, syrupy smile. "I had thought we – "

He would never let her see it. She'd seen enough, on the mountainside. He breezed past, seizing Drakken by the upper arm. "YOU and ONLY YOU are coming with me."

"WHAT DID I DO?" Drakken yelled as he was dragged off.

Ravess swallowed hard watching Vexen and Drakken leave. "It's nothing," she told herself. "He…he can't know. And he won't know."

In the back recesses of the operating room, Vexen set about balling up all cloth and paper he could find, discarding it. "You are to help me rid myself of my weakness," he spat. "Once. And. For. All."

"I. Um." Drakken watched with confusion. "I have no idea what's going on."

"One of our number made the HORRENDOUS sound," Vexen seethed, "and I reacted on instinct. I was humiliated by the recesses of my own mind, by the reflexes I have developed for survival! NO MORE!"

"The sound…" Drakken figured it out. "Someone snapped?"

"YES!"

"Well, what do you want me to do about it?" Drakken asked. "I'm not a therapist!"

"No," Vexen told him. "But I know techniques. Techniques I require someone else to perform, to remove the predictability, to ensure the deed is done."

"You're scaring me," Drakken admitted.

Vexen pressed an item into his hand. A lighter. "Light this," he seethed, his breathing ragged. "Keep it lit."

"Um – "

"It's exposure therapy. You will show me the flame again and again, and present the sound, until I no longer have any reaction."

"Vexen," Drakken said softly, "I'm pretty sure this isn't how exposure therapy works. I really think this is only going to make things worse."

"I KNOW what I am DOING!" Vexen insisted, taking several paces back. "Now. Light!"

"I…ah…" Drakken held up the lighter slowly.

"What are you WAITING for?"

Drakken flinched as he clicked the lighter.

At the sound, Vexen flinched, and the temperature in the room dropped by several degrees. But it was far less dramatic than what had happened upstairs. "Good," he panted. "A good…start. But I use that size of flame routinely during my work."

"Why don't we keep practicing with it?" Drakken suggested. "I mean, starting small is the best way to – "

Vexen handed him a second item. An aerosol can.

"Oh. Okay."

"You know what to do," Vexen commanded venomously.

Drakken had two options. Argue that it wouldn't work, which would cause Vexen further humiliation. Or light the flame. And send him into total meltdown.

He knew which option he wanted to go for. And he knew which option Vexen would choose if he presented it thusly – the opposite of what he wanted.

So he raised the aerosol, tilted its spray away from Vexen, pressed its dispenser, clicked the lighter –

Such bright orange, surrounded by dark shades, emanating from a source of blue – Axel? Axel wasn't blue, no worries there – death imminent, however. Immolation impending. Ice, ice, ice, before it all ends again in another storm of agony.

When Vexen's senses cleared, the room was covered in ice. Including Drakken's coat, which he was brushing the frost from.

"This isn't a good idea," Drakken insisted.

"Again," Vexen panted.

"You're going to give yourself heart failure this way!"

"AGAIN."

This time, when he saw the flame, he reminded himself he was in control, this was his idea, he'd asked a friend to create it –

No, no, no, it could easily be turned on him. Ice.

"AGAIN!"

No matter how much he said to himself that this fire was his by extension, he didn't believe it. Ice.

"AGAIN!"

"NO!" Drakken threw the can and the lighter to the ground. "Not even because of your mental health! Because I'M FREEZING IN HERE!"

"Then go thaw," Vexen told him, "and return when you are – "

"I'M NOT DOING ANY MORE OF THIS!"

"YOU ARE THE ONLY ONE I TRUST TO DO IT!"

"THEN YOU'RE DONE WITH EXPOSURE THERAPY TODAY!"

The door creaked open. Deymos leaned in, waving. "Hey, guys! Lookin' all over for you. Man oh man, first shift at Liquid Assets was livin' the dream. Snatcher made my ex cry. It was pretty epic." He paused. "Also, what's going on here?"

"Nothing – " Vexen huffed.

"He's trying to get over his post-traumatic stress by having me continually set the room on fire," Drakken sniffed. "Which is doing him and me more harm than good."

"YOU HAVE NO RIGHT – " Vexen began.

"Whoawhoawhoawhoawhoa! Whoa!" Deymos put up both hands, palms out. "Am I hearing this right? You're trying to deal with the fact that you're super afraid of something?"

"I am attempting to eliminate my last weakness," Vexen said in a ragged tone.

"Yeah, uh-huh," Deymos replied casually. "Too bad you don't have anyone around here who has experience taming constant fear and shoving it down so he can do whatever he wants, huh? Real shame. Anyway, I'm out. Obviously this is between you two – "

Vexen knew exactly what trap he was laying and still went for it. As Deymos turned, Vexen reached out, seized his upper arm – more physical contact than he would usually initiate. "YOU!" Vexen panted. "You…you can fix this!"

Deymos grinned triumphantly. "More or less. But not here. And not like this. You're comin' at it all wrong. We gotta take a little road trip. Back to the scene of the crime: the front yard of the old mansion in Twilight Town."

"How…how did you know?" Vexen asked, wide-eyed. "No one ever – I never spoke of it – "

Deymos waved it off. "Don't worry about it. I just know things, that's all."

(More than a year ago, Demyx asked, "So how'd you off him?"

"Why do you care?" Axel replied.

"Just curious," Demyx replied. "I wanna know how pathetic he sounded when he went out."

"Very. End of story. Got it memorized?"

"Waitwaitwait! Axel! I need DETAILS!"

"Wha – why? Why do you need details?"

"Entertainment value?"

Axel figured something was off here, but he figured Demyx wasn't going to be done pestering him until he gave up the information. "Fiiiine. So here's how it went down…")

Deymos was the one to cast the Corridor. "After you," he said as he gestured to the black portal.

Vexen swallowed hard. He knew exactly where it would lead.

"I mean, unless you're not actually serious about this," Deymos said.

Vexen snorted, storming through, into the expanse of the Dark and then out the other side to that forbidden place with its wrought-iron gate.

Not here. Anywhere but here. This had been a mistake.

He turned back to see Deymos blocking the way back. "Ah-ah-ah!" He waggled his finger. "We're doing this."

Vexen's brow furrowed. "I am not amused by you condescending me."

"So now YOU know how it feels." Deymos raised one of his own brows. "Consider this revenge. Anyway, gate's open. Go on in."

Even though the deed had been done here, outside the property, Vexen hesitated to step inside. The front courtyard was walled, ready to trap him inside. The broken statues seemed to threaten he would meet the same fate if he entered.

But if he waited a moment more, Deymos would heckle him again, and that he would not take.

So he sauntered inside, trying to keep his pace even. (Trembling on every inch of skin.) "I suppose you want us to enter the building?"

"Nah, here's fine." Deymos made his way to the outer wall, flopping down to sit with his back to it. "C'mon. Sit." He patted the ground beside him.

"What are you playing at?" Vexen asked.

"My first strategy when in overload mode is always to find a way out of it," Deymos said. "Drop whatever I'm doing and slack off. So that's what we're doing. We're here, in the place you died – more or less – and now we're just gonna sit and not do anything. Just…y'know, let go."

"Let go?"

"No keeping up appearances," Deymos said. "No straight face, no taking action. Just sit down, lean back, and whatever happens, happens."

"You had better know what you're doing." Vexen approached, sitting beside Deymos, keeping a little distance between them. The act of sitting on the ground felt undignified, as did leaning against a wall, but if Vexen was desperate enough to have an aerosol flame fired in front of him repeatedly, he could take this.

Deymos inhaled dramatically, puffing his chest, then let it out. "Just drink this in. Beautiful day. This is probably the best town you could've picked to die. You see that sky? Hear that wind in the trees? Birds, too. This is the life, I tell you."

Well, Deymos had a bit of a point. The sky was a not-unpleasant color. And the sounds…the memory version of this place hadn't had all the sounds of a real world. It sounded natural, raw, true, and not at all like the scene Vexen remembered, even though he was here in the spitting image of the place.

That didn't stop his heart from racing. But luckily, being that he was on the ground by a wall, he could disguise any faltering or trembling, and he couldn't really fall over.

Clever Deymos.

Deymos then fished a device – roughly egg-shaped, with a flat face – from his pocket. "Fun fact," he said as he attached a cord to it. "This is actually from this world. They call it a TwiPod. There are parallel-universe versions of it, but this is the one that's highest-quality and holds the most tunes."

"A music player," Vexen said flatly.

"Yeah," Deymos said as he untangled the cord to reveal twin earbuds. "Music's how I solve a fair percentage of my problems. There's a song for everything, y'know."

"Are you claiming to have a song that can cure my disorder?" Vexen said skeptically.

"Not cure," Deymos corrected. "Just…soften." He fiddled with the device, loading up the words "Xtreme Chillout Myx" on the screen. Hitting play. Putting one earbud in his own ear and handing the other to Vexen. "Listen."

"I don't see how this – "

"Just do it. Trust me."

So Vexen slid the bud into his ear and listened. The song that was playing had almost a magical effect; its soft, steady beat relieved some of the pressure in his chest, and he could almost feel his heart slowing to match the tempo.

"Is this an enchantment?" Vexen asked – more calmly than anything else he'd said so far.

"Nah," Deymos replied. "It's just the magic of music. Now, look at it." He gestured to the yard. "Pretty much the same place you remember, right?"

"What are you getting at?"

"Look at it," Deymos commanded, "and listen."

So Vexen did. And with the song in his ear, everything seemed to change. It was somehow not the same place, not even the same place it had been when he'd first walked in the gate a few minutes ago.

It was…safe. He was sitting here, quite vulnerable, and had been for some time, and he hadn't died.

"You wanna make it better, just close your eyes and soak it in," Deymos told him, leaning back against the wall to do just that. "Forget where you are a minute. It's not even the place."

That did seem to hold merit – Vexen could exist in the space that would normally set him off without even having sensory proof of it. So he gave in. Lowering his lids into blackness. Focusing on the song in one ear, the rush of the wind and the chirping of the birds in the other.

"And if all else fails," Deymos told him, voice cutting through the dark and the ambient soundscape, "just remember. Fire might beat ice, but water beats fire. Think about that."

Vexen flinched. Of course Deymos would boast that he was the one out of the two of them who could actually face such a threat and live. And to demean him by offering to protect him! It was –

Why, it was simply –

A relief, was what it really was, so Vexen didn't say anything.

There they rested in darkness, the same songs flowing into both their minds, connecting them, until a feminine voice greeted, "Uh…hello?"
Deymos and Vexen both snapped to attention, jerking forward with twin cries. The earbuds fell loose. They looked up to see a pair of blonde women standing over them, looking quite concerned.

"What are you guys doing in our yard?" Yang Xiao Long asked somewhat sharply.

"Hang on!" Harley Quinn realized. "That's Discount Demyx!"

"Huh?" Yang replied.

"He's got dirt on the Doc," Harley explained, "so we gotta give him a discount at the Liminal Space. He's harmless so long as ya don't start anythin' with him."

"What the – " Deymos shook his head. "No, no, no, that's something the OTHER me must've done. I'm not Demyx. I'm Deymos."

"Is that like…one of those Nobody-Somebody things?" Harley asked.

"Time travel, actually," Deymos replied.

"Eh." Harley shrugged. "Makes about as much sense."

"Deymos," Vexen hissed. "You did not mention the house was OCCUPIED."

"I didn't know, okay?" Deymos hissed back.

"Waaaiiiit a minute!" Harley realized, pointing at Vexen. "I know you, too! From Asgard! Unless you're a time travel double too…"

"No, that was me," Vexen sighed. "I take it you are now the proud owner of this mansion."

"Squatter," Harley corrected. "We don't pay rent. You're not gonna squeal on us, are ya?"

"No reason to," Deymos replied.

"So you know the other guy?" Yang asked Harley. "From where?"

"He's from where Ragsy an' Gar went back to," Harley explained. "The WHAM ARMY. Buncha really cool guys, but a little too into the whole murder bit for me to join forces."

"So these are like…the hardcore villains," Yang realized.

"We are RIGHT HERE," Vexen seethed. "Why not ask US how we operate?"

"Yup-er-doo!" Harley affirmed. "And a friend a' Gar and Ragsy's is a friend a' mine!"

Yang shrugged. (She now had a replacement robot arm with which to do so, thanks to Abigail and Entrapta.) "Can't argue with that. Still haven't answered my question, though."

Before Vexen could say anything, Deymos blurted, "I'm playing hooky from the main operation, but they won't let me go anywhere without a chaperone. So I picked an old hangout spot that's usually deserted and made Vexster come with me. And now I'm torturing him with my music."

A perfect lie. Vexen kept his mouth shut. Deymos had known quite well that these women couldn't be aware of the true nature of their mission.

"But really, we're not here to cause any trouble," Deymos insisted.

"I can confirm that much," Vexen said. "So long as I have an eye on him, anyhow."

"Oh, I get it!" Harley realized. "They musta made a double 'cause the first you went to Maleficent, so you're the WHAM ARMY version, but they don't trust ya yet 'cause of the whole backstab incident!"

"Bingo!" Deymos made a finger-gun at her. "Soooo…I'm not hearing we CAN'T use the yard."

Yang shrugged. "You're Harley's friends, and we're not really using this space. Not right now, anyway. So it's cool if you chill. Just knock before you come in the house."

"We won't need to," Deymos told her. "I just like the aesthetic out here."

"You want us to bring ya some snacks or somethin'?" Harley asked.

"We will be FINE," Vexen snapped.

Harley laughed. "Same ol' Hexen!"

"It's VEXEN!"

"Well, you were close," Yang told Harley, thinking of the island where she'd made that guess. "Anyway, you guys have fun…sitting in the yard and listening to music."

"You know where we'll be if ya need us!" Harley waved as she and Yang set back off for the entrance to the house.

"Huh," Deymos remarked. "So that was…weird."

"She lacked the spine to keep up with us," Vexen explained. "So she broke away. It seems she has found like-minded individuals as well. Fascinating…"

"Hey, if they let us use the yard, it's a win in my book." Deymos fished the TwiPod back up from the grass. "Now let's pick up where we left off."

They plugged in again, leaning back against the wall, and this time Vexen left his eyes open, watching the paths of the clouds and the occasional bird overhead.

...

Nora Valkyrie found the door to Yuffie Kisaragi's room propped open. Yuffie sat cross-legged on the bed, talking to her GummiPhone, which lay on the blankets, face up. Grinning playfully, Nora situated herself in the doorway and leaned on the frame with one arm raised, showing off the wardrobe change she'd acquired.

"Oh, oh, oh, here she is now!" Yuffie yelped excitedly into the phone. "And she's doing the hot lesbian lean on the door!"

A voice replied, "Well, don't just tell us, girl! Show us!"

Yuffie picked up the phone, tilting it toward Nora. Nora smiled all the brighter; she couldn't see from this distance who exactly she was showing off to, but she knew they could see her new dress – black underlayer, white bodice and skirt overlay, pastel-pink jacket, and pastel-blue lapels. The order of the pink, blue, and white of course indicating the particular fact about herself she was no longer afraid to hide.

There was a piercing scream from the phone, followed by "Girl, you lucked OUT!"

"Hi, Nora!" another, more chipper voice emanated. "Nice to meet you!"

"Hi!" Nora chirped back. "Uh…who am I talking to?"

A third, sharper voice: "You should probably hang up so you can invite her the right way."

"Okay, okay, I will!" Yuffie answered. "See you guys later!"

With three choruses of "Bye!", the call disconnected.

"Who was that?" Nora asked.

"My old friends from Traverse Town," Yuffie explained. "You haven't met them yet. They don't really do much with the Committee. But we go way, way back. We all got on the same ship together for the exodus when Maleficent took over, and, well, it was the only ship that survived. We were all girls around the same age, so we started hanging out, and it's one of those deals where we don't talk EVERY day but we still have a bond, y'know?"

"I get it," Nora said with a nod.

"I was the group troublemaker," Yuffie explained. "Ren Stevens was the rule-enforcer, Lizzie McGuire was the innocent introvert, and Raven Baxter was the diva. Actually, scratch that. Are. We still are all those things. Anyway, we were talking about maaaayyyybe scheduling a quadruple date…if you're game."

"I'm in!" Nora pumped a fist.

"Awesome!" Yuffie's face lit up. "Finally, I'm not gonna be a seventh wheel when they bring their partners! And FINALLY they get to meet you after putting up with me talking about my super crush on you!"

"What're we doing?" Nora asked.

"Movie theater in Olliewood finally opened back up," Yuffie said. "They're doing a horror double feature."

"Oh, I am SO game," Nora said excitedly. "Creature feature, slasher, or one of each?"

"One of each!"

"Best of both worlds."

"Then we thought we'd grab a pizza after," Yuffie went on. "And actually, if you're in new clothes, I'm gonna go bug the fashion contingent for something new, too. They're all major fashionistas, and you've already got the leg up on upstaging them, so I gotta look good as your arm candy!"

Yuffie leapt from the bed, ran to Nora, and gave her a quick kiss on the lips. Then they headed off to Pleakley and Rarity's studio together.

...

Ravess' apartment was perfectly quiet and still. Not a creature was stirring, not even a cat.

The lock jiggled as pressurized water found its way to all the tumblers. The door clicked open. Only after Deymos had entered did he dispel the invisibility shield around himself and his companion, and start humming softly.

"What we doing again?" Xerxes asked.

"Figuring out how to break up the RaVex," Deymos replied, locking the door so he wouldn't be easily disturbed. "Look, I'm a thief at heart. Vex and I made real strides today, but we're going nowhere so long as she's in the way. So what's the obvious solution? Steal her boyfriend."

"Why sneak around apartment?" Xerxes asked.

"Because Vexen won't give up just because something better exists," Deymos answered. "He'll always cling onto whatever he thinks is rightfully his, just like how I get what I want with minimal effort time after time. He is, however, a perfectionist. And if there's anything Ravess is hiding that spoils his perfect image of her…well, he'll have to consider his other options, won't he?"

"What if Ravess perfect?" Xerxes countered.

"She can't be," Deymos replied. "And maybe that's just my delusions of grandeur talking, but it's a hunch I'm willing to play. I'll take her bedroom; you look around the bathroom."

"Xerxes on it!" The eel flitted off.

Deymos entered the pristine bedroom, and the first thing he noticed was that he didn't think it was physically possible to make a bed so neatly. "Maybe she is perfect," he grumbled as he started to open drawers.

She folded everything. Even her underwear. The panty drawer was too neat to hold any secrets, which was a bit of a disappointment, because crude as it was, that was usually a place people hid things they didn't want found. Under the bed? Not even a dust bunny. The desk was home to several completed and in-progress sheets of music that Ravess was composing, all labeled titles like "The General's Overture" and "Lullaby for the Archer Queen" and "Diamond Dust Sonata."

Deymos could hear the songs in his head just by traveling the notes with his eyes. It all sounded exactly the same flavor of pretentious. He kept Diamond Dust Sonat" in his hand for a while, just because he was that irritated that she'd beaten Deymos to writing about their shared object of affection.

(It wasn't even that good.)

Nothing in the bedroom was incriminating. Deymos gave the living room a sweep, finding nothing interesting there either. He then set Diamond Dust Sonata down to look it over again.

Wait. The word "Sonata" was written atop the erased remains of another word. A word he knew well. At some point, Ravess had titled this song "Diamond Dust Nocturne," and had changed it.

No prizes for guessing when. What surprised Deymos was that she apparently already thought of him as a threat. "Are you projecting?" he asked teasingly. Then sighed; "No, if you were looking for a way out, I'd've found the evidence by now."

Xerxes flitted over Deymos' shoulder, and Deymos asked, "Find anything?"

"Nothing in bathroom," Xerxes sighed. "Got hungry so checked kitchen."

"Hey, I said no moving things around!" Deymos chided. "She'll notice if food's gone!"

"Xerxes only took one anchovy."

"Well, don't take any more." Deymos brushed out Diamond Dust Sonata.

"Then why Deymos take music?"

"Because I know exactly where it was in the stack and I'm gonna put it back on her desk when I'm done."

"Xerxes find more music," Xerxes stated. "In kitchen."

"What?" Deymos flinched. "Why would Little Miss Perfect keep sheet music in the kitchen? Not exactly everything in its place." He looked askance; "That's kinda suspicious. Bring it here?"

So Xerxes did. Deymos rifled through the sheets of the piece. "Coming Chromatic," it was called. The first interesting thing to note was that it was a very different mood from anything else Deymos had found on that desk. This was more energetic, more passionate. It had a feel to it that Deymos couldn't quite pin down yet.

"Where in the kitchen did you find this?" he asked.

"Under island stove," Xerxes said. "Behind bunch of candles."

The pin dropped.

"Xerxes," Deymos said softly. "Do you know what this means?"

"Xerxes not know where food kept in kitchen?"

"Well, yeah, that. But also." Deymos tapped the page with an index finger. "Under the stove? Behind CANDLES? She set up a whole obstacle course of things that would trigger Vex's PTSD. She never wanted him to find this song. Which means it's something he'd know was wrong. But what does it mean?"

He hummed the song to himself. Sharp notes, repetitive, getting gradually higher and higher. And it clicked. "It's SEXUAL!" he cried triumphantly. "That's why it feels so different! And the title – she's sick of the ace life! It's bleeding into her music! Man, that's gotta be rough on Vex. How much do you wanna bet he has no idea? But that would mean…oh. OHHHHH." His eyes widened. "She IS projecting! SHE'S BEEN GETTING IT ON WITH SOMEBODY ELSE, AND THIS IS THE SONG ABOUT IT!"

Deymos excitedly waved the sheet music in Xerxes' face. "We HAVE her, Xerxes!"

"Yes!" Xerxes chirped. "Now just have to bring proof to Vexen and they break up!"

"All according to plan!" Deymos bubbled. "She breaks his heart, I'll be there to pick up the pieces, and I'm in! Sure, it might hurt him for a bit…"

And then his crest fell ever so slightly: "Well, actually, no, it's Vex, so it'd probably wreck him, actually…"

He pouted. "And he'd have trust issues for the rest of his life because of this lady…"

With a sigh, Deymos passed the paper back to Xerxes. "No. Not now. We gotta save this for later. Put it back where you found it while I think about how to play this."

"Sympathy?" Xerxes asked.

"Please," Deymos scoffed. "This is about the prize. He takes it too hard and he won't be interested in a rebound."

"Deymos lying," Xerxes identified. "Sympathy."

"Xerxeeeees!" Deymos groaned. "You have no proof of that, so stop saying it!"

"Xerxes have proof."

"Oh yeah?"

"Well, not proof-proof," Xerxes admitted. "But Vexen also keep saying he not like Deymos and then make it so Deymos stay. Probably not crush, but he hide sympathy too. Both of you very stubborn."

Deymos was still a moment. "Wow," he whispered to himself. "How did I not even see it? If he really wanted me out, I'd be gone, bribe or no bribe. So anyway, DEFINITELY can't spring the cheating girlfriend thing on him yet. Or…maybe ever."

"But good to know," Xerxes said.

"Of course," Deymos affirmed. "That's the thing about recon. There's nothing you can ever REALLY regret learning. There's always a way to make info useful. But seriously, put it back, or she'll know."

Within five minutes, the apartment looked exactly as it had before the pair had broken in – minus one anchovy from the fridge. No one was in the hall to see the door seemingly open itself and close itself again; all the same, Deymos waited until he was around the corner to make himself and Xerxes visible again.

Ravess, of course, didn't figure it out when she eventually got back. She was never one for recon.

...

The life was coming back to Olliewood. Its many curbs and walkway railings had made it a popular place for youngsters to come with skateboards; on that day, one could see Pacce grinding on a rail while Lann managed to fall right on his behind attempting a kickflip. Advertisements for McDuck ice cream were plastered across the walls in an attempt to pander to the skateboarder demographic, but mostly just got torn down or painted on.

From across the district, Yuffie and Nora could see the movie theater marquee next to a tall brown shopping complex that had also seen a grand reopening. They broke into a run on the final stretch.

"There's an AQUARIUM here too?" Nora gasped. "Oh, we HAVE to come back to this place for more dates."

"You bet!" Yuffie agreed.

Six teens gathered out front of the movie theater, all dressed in the characteristic belts and ruffles of Radiant Garden fashion. One of them, a tall, pale brunette who wore peach and pink tones, raised a hand to wave; "Hey, Yuffie!"

"Ren!" Yuffie waved back as she pulled up to the group. "How's it goin', guys?"

"Well, kind of the same old," the brunette – Ren – replied. "But no news is good news around this city."

"Agreed to that," sighed a blonde girl, her hair in crimps and curls while her clothing was frilly blues and purples.

"Enough about that!" A girl with darker skin and hair, the hair teased up into an intricate updo to offset the very sparkly and gaudy clothing she was wearing, waved the sentiment away. "We get to meet the GIRLFRIEND! Ooh, and that outfit is off the chain, Yufe!"

Yuffie had opted for a short purple tank top with asymmetrical straps, along with golden-orange shorts and high black boots. "Look, none of us can keep up with your clothes, Rae," Yuffie replied, "but at least I can try! Anyway!" She took a step back to gesture to Nora. "Everyone, this is my girlfriend! Nora!"

"Hiiiiii!" Nora waved excitedly.

There was a chorus of greetings in response.

"Okay," Yuffie began, "so this is Ren." She gestured to the brunette. "And her boyfriend, Larry Beale."

"What's up?" Larry, a tall boy with deep, dark skin and short hair greeted.

"Larry might be the only person in all of Balamb Academy who occasionally has higher grades than Ren," Yuffie went on. "They're kinda neck-and-neck."

"And I'll have you know…I'm in the lead," Larry bragged with a grin.

Ren shoved hin playfully; "For now."

"Hey, you'll get your time," Larry told her. "Eventually."

"Maybe," Yuffie said with a grin.

"Though that's, you know, kinda tough trash talk coming from someone who hasn't even been to school in, what, a year?" Ren shrugged in Yuffie's direction.

"Hey, I'm studying full-time at the school of hard knocks!" Yuffie argued. "With the best teacher: experience!"

"And my school…kiiiiiinda got destroyed in a huge invasion of Dark monsters," Nora added. "No big deal."

"I can't really fault you for that one," Ren admitted.

"This is Raven," Yuffie said, gesturing to the girl in the gaudy sparkles. "Biggest fashionista you'll ever meet."

"Gonna give you a hot tip here," Raven replied. "That mall over there that just opened back up? They got the good stuff."

"Also psychic," Yuffie went on.

"Really?" Nora asked.

"Yep yep!" Raven boasted. "Though, uh, I don't exactly control what I see or when I see it or…how it's even supposed to be relevant or what the context is for interpretation BUT I still got the power, so that's something!"

"And Rae's girlfriend," Yuffie went on, "Chelsea Daniels."

A bubbly girl, pale in complexion with long red tresses, bounced up and down on her toes; "It is soooooooo exciting to finally meet you, Nora!"

Yuffie leaned close to whisper to Nora; "Just don't buy bottled water around her."

"Hey!" Chelsea snapped. "I heard that! Plastic consumption is a serious issue! It's bad enough that McDuck keeps pushing those disposable plastic novelty ice cream bowls! By the way, I'm organizing a protest for that on Friday; you wanna come?"

"I'll think about it," Nora replied.

"And this is Lizzie," Yuffie said, gesturing to the blonde.

"Hey!" Lizzie beamed. "Yuffie's told us SO much about you. She had such a big crush on you. I'd say it was embarrassing, but you're not really anything to get embarrassed about. I'm so glad the two of you got together!"

"And Lizzie's boyfriend, Gordo," Yuffie said. "Short for 'David Gordon,' which is such a boring name you get why he changed it."

Gordo, a pale boy with fluffy black hair, gave a laugh at that. "Yeah, can't really argue. So Nora, I hear you're some kind of monster-slayer?"

"Huntress, actually," Nora replied. "Which is more or less the same thing."

"That is so cool!" Lizzie gushed. "I could never handle anything like that. I'm happy just being boring."

"You're not boring," Gordo scoffed. "You're the most interesting person I know!"

"Oh, and also, those two are total saps," Yuffie added. "But don't be fooled. You say you're boring, Lizzie, but which one of us was it that teamed up with an off-world pop star who got blown into Traverse Town because she was the spitting image of his old partner, who it turns out he doomed to stay back on their exploding world to get rid of her until it turned out she escaped? And which one of us defeated him when he tried to unleash his Dark powers on all of Traverse Town during a live concert, before FINISHING the concert?"

"To be fair," Lizzie argued, "Gordo did most of the defeating part!"

"I just did what I could," Gordo said. "Now, finishing up that live performance, that was all you."

"You guys have some weird stories, don't you?" Nora realized.

"In a world full of refugees from other parts of the cosmos?" Ren posed. "You bet. We've been through just about everything. Spontaneous musicals, elaborate disguises, live game shows, making scenes at public dances, murder-mystery parties, getting way too involved in Traverse Town politics, and the hardships of avoiding the little-brother brigade."

"But that's nothing compared to the stories YOU gotta have!" Lizzie added. "You two have been traveling worlds! Fighting the big villains!"

"Oh, do we ever!" Nora bragged.

"We can talk about it over pizza," Ren said. "We should get in line within the next five minutes if we wanna make it for the first movie."

"And we gotta see the previews!" Chelsea urged. "This is the first time we've even HAD movies to have previews for in a year!"

"And I know I'm not sitting through two whole scary movies without an extra-large bucket of popcorn," Larry added.

"Then let's go!" Yuffie chirped.

It wasn't long before the eight of them were sitting in the third-from-front row, watching a serial killer chase his prey.

For the most part, Lizzie and Gordo watched calmly. Lizzie tended to jump at the sudden scares, and then it only took a pleading look for Gordo to wrap an arm around her protectively. Then he flinched at the next one, and she put her arm around him, too.

Then there were Ren and Larry, who were fighting over popcorn.

"You have your own!" Ren hissed, swatting Larry's hand. "Stop eating out of mine!"

"You know I'm doing this to get your attention, right?" Larry smirked as he stuffed a handful of popcorn into his mouth.

"You want my attention," Ren told him, "then bother me when the movie scares you."

"Scare me?" Larry scoffed. "You're gonna be the one who gets scared first!"

"No way!"

"Yes way."

"It's gonna be you."

"Nuh-uh!"

Then there were Raven and Chelsea.

"AAAAAAAHHHHHHH!" Raven shrieked, squirming in her seat as the killer performed a gruesome evisceration. "CHELS! HOLD ME, CHELS!" Her arms were locked tightly around Chelsea.

Chelsea gripped her equally tightly, flailing almost as much. "RAE, I'M SCARED! RAE! EEEEEEEE!"

Then, finally, Nora and Yuffie.

"Oh, COME ON!" Nora yelled. "Anyone could've told you he was behind that door! How dumb can you get?"

"Booooo!" Yuffie yelled. "Not enough blood! We need more!"

An usher came down to their row; "I'm sorry, but if you all can't be quiet, I'm going to have to ask you to leave."

In the end, they couldn't be quiet.

"Well, our double feature got turned into a half-feature," Ren sighed as she led the group away from the theater.

"Are you really surprised, though?" Larry asked.

"No," Ren said. "I'm not. Actually, I was making backup plans in case of this. Who wants to check out that mall before we hit the pizza place?"

"MEMEMEMEME!" Raven and Chelsea yelled in synchrony, bouncing up and down.

"Awesome!" Nora said. "Another adventure for Team RRYL!" (She pronounced it "royal.")

"What?" Lizzie asked.

"You know…R-R-Y-L," Nora said. "Like royal blue. Ren, Raven, Yuffie, Lizzie. I was thinking about it since there were four of you. Still working on the B-team acronym, though. L, G, N, C…gonna need to think on that one. But it's what we'd do at Beacon. They'd put us in teams of four and give us a name that sounded like a color."

"That's so cool!" Lizzie cried. "We're gonna be Team RRYL from now on! I love it!"

"What was your team color?" Gordo asked.

"JNPR," Nora answered, pronouncing it "juniper." "But…we lost one of ours. So now we're just a J, an N, and an R."

"Oh," Gordo realized. "I'm sorry."

"It's fine," Nora replied. "We all miss her, sure, but…she's with us in spirit."

"And I mean…" Raven shrugged. "You've got an opening if anyone whose name starts with P wants to join, am I right?"

"RAE!" Lizzie and Ren smacked her lightly on each forearm.

But Nora didn't mind at all, because a connection snapped into place, and suddenly, an idea formed. She had an invitation to extend.

They browsed the mall for the duration of what would've been the rest of the first film. In that time, another group of youths set out from Nergal's Pizza to catch the start of the second.

"I'm not sneaking in!" Xion insisted. "You guys can do what you want, but I'm paying! The theater obviously needs our money to keep running!"

"They're not gonna miss seven tickets," Pietro argued. "Besides, it's probably some McDuck subsidiary, or he donates or something, so they've got too much money already!"

"Sure you're not gonna be too scared to handle it, Ninny?" Lance taunted.

"It's about a monster, right?" Xion reiterated. "I am a monster, and my family's monsters. I think I'm going to feel bad for the creature more than anything."

"Man, I feel that one," Todd groaned from his usual place on Fred's shoulders.

"This movie sounds sooooooo stupid," Kokichi scoffed. "I bet I'm not gonna enjoy any of it."

"Another lie?" Wanda sighed.

Kokichi confirmed this with a "NEE-HEE-HEE!"

"All I know is I'm not sitting through this without an extra-large popcorn," Fred stated.

"What the – " Pietro gaped. "That's gonna cost even more than the tickets would! You're paying up anyway!"

"Which is why I'm skipping paying for the ticket! Duh!" Fred argued. "Because the food's already way overpriced!"

They entered the theater as Team RRYL (and romantic partners) came out of the mall and headed over to Nergal's Pizza. Had Nora, Yuffie, and Xion crossed paths for even a moment, the story would've been different. But as it were, they all missed each other, and one group went to watch a monster movie none the wiser while the other had a casual pizza dinner none the wiser.

...

So it was decided: Rachel Inlustris had to work with her ex. Her fake ex, at that. She wasn't really happy about it, nor about the fact that one of her new supervisors had read her in front of everybody else and made her cry.

But all considered, Liquid Assets was still the best job she'd ever had, and even being in the same room as Deymos was better than her other current occupation.

That, of course, is not to be discussed quite yet. For Rachel had respite from that job now, hustling to the potions shop with only a quick stop on the way to purchase a prepackaged sandwich from the delicatessen.

She arrived to find a sizeable gathering in the break room. Many of the usual suspects: Mozenrath, Snatcher, Roman, Yzma, Tony, and unfortunately Deymos sitting around the table and having their own lunch. Mim was running the sales floor, though from the looks of it, not very attentively.

"Hey there, Cupcake." Tony was of course the first to notice her, greet her, and also wink.

"Hi," Rachel said back, flushed.

"Yooooo!" Deymos put up a hand.

Rachel made a show of rolling her eyes and turning away. She unwrapped the sandwich, popping it into her mouth –

And then spat it out with intensity and dramatic sound effects. "UGH!" She crossed the room to the waste bin. "Thought I examined this one thoroughly enough, but I guess not!"

"What's wrong?" Tony asked.

"Found cheese in it," Rachel grumbled. With one toss, the whole thing went into the bin.

"You could just take it out?" Deymos suggested.

"Did you not even pay attention when we were together?" Rachel asked. "Whole thing's ruined. I'll still taste it, and I'll KNOW."

Snatcher gave a heavy sigh. "Miss Inlustris, if this is an attempt to butter me up, it is far too heavy-handed."

Rachel tilted her head at him. "Um. What?"

"That wasn't – " Snatcher had to think that over.

"You know," Mozenrath remarked, "I'm pretty sure if you tried to literally butter up Archibald Snatcher, he'd be dead."

"HA!" Yzma high-fived him.

"Not funny," Roman grunted.

"Aaaanyway." Rachel turned away brusquely. "Guess I don't get lunch today. Just warning you all in advance I'm gonna be hangry, which will be fun for no one." And she set about changing the coffee.

Yzma then coughed a loud "HEH-hem."

"Which one of us was that for?" Deymos asked.

Yzma pointed to Snatcher.

"What?" Snatcher flinched. "What've I done?"

"Well," Yzma said, "it seems to me that someone here is a bit bitter about the fact that you called out her attraction to her ex in front of everyone, and then made her cry because she was embarrassed and also afraid of falling for her ex again."

"And how is that any fault of mine?" Snatcher asked. "It's her problem!"

"Here's a bit of unrelated trivia," Yzma went on. "When she first joined up, she would only occasionally wear her glasses and try to claim she didn't need them. It took her misreading several labels and running into a shelf point-blank for her to wear them permanently."

"Is that to be an analogy to a particular chapter in my own life?" Snatcher asked.

"Just a fun little factoid," Yzma said dryly. "No parallels whatsoever. And definitely not a suggestion that you have more in common than you thought."

"But it is kinda off-brand for you to just let somebody be mad at you without getting your foot in the door," Roman pointed out.

"Especially the public-relations figurehead of our operations in Twilight Town," Tony added.

Snatcher had already made his decision. "Er, Miss Inlustris?"

"WHAT?" she yelled back. So the "hangry" was already setting in.

After a quick rummage in his enchanted bag, Snatcher produced a second sandwich, identical to the one he'd brought. "A replacement lunch, on the house. Certified dairy-free in all respects."

Rachel eyed the sandwich like it was the bait to some sort of trap. "Are you serious?"

"As one of your most generous employers," Snatcher went on, "I simply couldn't stand by knowing one of our finest workers was going hungry on the job."

After a moment's more hesitation, Rachel grabbed for it. "Thank you. Thankyouthankyouthankyou. Oh my God, I owe you – "

"You owe nothing but your continued loyalty and service," Snatcher told her. "Then again…it might behoove you to remember this favor."

Rachel took a bite of it. Bacon and ketchup, for some reason. "I'm not tossing this," she said as she moved across the room again. "This is just gonna taste like ten times better microwaved."

"And once you've finished there," Snatcher went on, "do join us for our staff meeting. Perhaps your input could be…beneficial."

"I…don't know," Rachel said as the microwave stopped humming.

"If Mr. Deymos harasses you even once," Snatcher cajoled, "Mr. Dracon has full authority to give him a beating."

"Words I like to hear," Tony said with a smirk.

"I'll play nice," Deymos groaned.

"Just one question," Mozenrath broke in. "Why did you have a second entire sandwich?"

Mim, breezing behind him, yelled "SANDWICH TAX" as she ripped the pita he was eating out of his hands. She then skipped off, taking over the eating of the pita as Mozenrath stared in disbelief at his empty hands.

"That's why," Yzma told him. She rummaged for her own backup food; "Avocado and plantain."

Mozenrath sighed, holding out his hand for it. "Better than nothing."

Rachel, with a freshly warmed bacon sandwich whose ketchup was getting hard to contain without napkins, settled herself between Snatcher and Tony. Tony gave Deymos a glare, and he scooted his chair a little further away from her.

"So what's the topic?" Rachel asked.

"Right now," Mozenrath explained, "as an evil venture, Liquid Assets is…passive. We were hoping to take it in a direction that's more active."

"In other words," Snatcher said, "they come to us. We can truly get what it is we desire if we, instead, go to them."

"And that desire is…?" Rachel asked.

"Why, whatever we please," Snatcher told her. "Yet I see a particular vision, one inspired by a little improvisational exercise I was so lucky to be witness to. Here, we could distribute poisons disguised as panaceas, to – "

"Hold on," Rachel broke in. "I'm not down for mass-poisoning the entire town, no matter how much my faith in humanity as a whole is dead. And you shouldn't be, either, because if they die, then there's no one left to buy our stuff."

"You're taking 'poison' in a very specific sense," Roman told her. "We just mean it as in…a drug, call it a potion, that has negative effects. Death? Maybe that's a little extreme for the common man who pays our bills. But mind control? Turning people feral? Spreading an illness only we can cure?"

"Turning people into llamas!" Yzma contributed.

"With a condition," Tony brought up. "Rachel here gives us a don't-touch list. It's the price we pay for her organizational skills."

Rachel nodded fervently. "That said, I can also think of a few people I'd like you to actually poison. So rain check on that."

"All we needs do is advertise it as a 'miracle cure,'" Snatcher went on, "and we'll have our hands in the pockets of the public. Whatever effects we desire, we thusly distribute."

"And did we pick a specific effect yet?" Rachel asked.

"This is more of a side venture than anything," Mozenrath reminded her, "so no, we're just talking hypotheticals right now. Laying the groundwork for when we do have the goal for which to spring the plan."

"Though if I may," Roman broke in, "things around here have a few too many of their DUCKS in a row. Specifically billionaire ducks that have the love and the money of the entire damn town. Might be enough just to pass out something that causes symptoms just for the sake of us curing them."

"Very astute, my love!" Snatcher praised, patting Roman on the shoulder.

"Let's also not forget the OTHER potions shop across town that I'd like to run into the ground," Yzma said dryly. "How does Liminal Space IV keep getting so many customers?"

"Liminal Space," Mozenrath repeated. "That's…the same chain holding our sand hostage on a completely different world. This might be worth investigating. We could have more rivals than we realize."

"Yet one sizeable obstacle stands in our way," Snatcher pointed out. "That being our public reputation…or absence thereof. The people shan't trust a back-alley boutique. No, they've got to have faith in us, a reason to place their lives and well-beings in our capable hands."

"Oh, so you mean drive up our company ethos," Rachel said. "Yeah, that's important. Take it from me. This one time, the Gazette ran this horrible article about how Black Mages were basically pests that needed to be exterminated – they're not – and then the owner of the WriterWeb coffee shop called it out, tried to get the Gazette cancelled, and Brahne waited like three weeks to print any kind of apology – which was fake – and ended up just telling me that none of her staff could fuckin' go to WriterWeb anymore, which SUCKED because they have the best cinnamon-orange cider, because the owner pointed out something bad SHE PUBLICLY DID, and somehow the whole town fell back in line buying the Gazette once it became more ethically neutral, and the moral of the story is that when you call out a racist newspaper, you become a hero to the marginalized and the cancel-culture fiends, but when you ARE the racist newspaper, then you lose access to the best fucking coffee shop in Twilight Town."

She finished her story to several incredulous stares. "Sorry," she muttered. "I should've mentioned I'm the queen of derailing."

"…Well, it is a good Aesop fable to keep in mind at any rate," Snatcher said. "Though now I'm curious to know quite how exactly human these 'Black Mages' are – "

"Not a lunch discussion," Roman said sharply, looking to Rachel.

She rolled her eyes. "Look, if you're gonna be a fucking racist, then be honest about it, don't get on a high horse, and do NOT write home my mom that I'm talking to you."

"Perhaps if you can offer proof that these Black Mages are indeed of equal status to humans," Snatcher said, "or, better yet, that adopting such a viewpoint would be beneficial to our cause…"

"Ethos," Rachel reminded him. "It's about the ethos. Way, WAY more people sided with WriterWeb than with the Gazette. Also, Black Mages are really only different from humans in the looks and the fact that they have more natural magic, so don't even go there."

Snatcher nodded, thinking it over. "I shall take your word. I have, after all, been proven wrong in the matters of several anthropomorphic lizardmen, demonic entities, machines with personality, and small military men with one eye and no other facial features. Though I shan't budge on trolls."

"And I'm gonna let that go," Rachel told him, "on the grounds that there are no trolls in this town, so we're good. Anyway, we need to do more than just not be racist in order to get painted as a friendly corporate name."

There was a great sloshing sound from the sink, and a rippling voice asked, "Did someone mention corporate ethos?"

Everyone at the table shrieked at the Liquidator's surprise appearance from the pipes.

"WHAT THE HELL, LICKY?" Roman blurted.

"GOD!" Rachel shrieked.

"How long have we had a guy actually MADE of water?" Deymos asked. "Also, thanks for nearly making my heart forcefully leave my body a second time."

The Liquidator flowed over to the table, pulling a chair along with him. "Household names are born of public acts and services!" he said. "For example, philanthrophy and charity!"

"Except we're trying to avoid going out of our way to actually do good things," Mozenrath grumbled.

"Because good things take work," Deymos added. "And why put in the work if we don't get anything out of it?"

"Unfortunately, he's right," Mozenrath said.

"I'm the token empath here, aren't I?" Rachel realized.

"It's a perspective we need," Tony reminded her. "After all, we need to know how the other half thinks."

"Okay, so if we don't want to do anything GOOD," Rachel went on, "then how about we do something FUN? Like put on some kind of event?"

"You guys ever considered karaoke nights?" Deymos asked. "You seem like a karaoke crowd."

That got everyone howling with laughter and pounding the table.

"Okaaaay, I get it, I'm a few months behind," Deymos groaned, rolling his eyes.

"But in all seriousness," Yzma said, "we can't just desecrate the sacred nature of karaoke night by bringing it to the public!"

"Yeah, and you can basically go down to Moonshine Bar to get free karaoke anytime," Rachel pointed out.

"There's a bar scene here?" Roman asked.

"Oh, yeah!" Deymos affirmed. "She and I used to go down to that one all the time. You would not believe how terrible the people in this town are at singing, though."

"Except…?" Rachel prompted.

"I'm not sure what you're getting at," Deymos admitted.

"Ignore him," Tony said. "We all know you're one of the few decent altos in this town."

"So if not a karaoke thing," Deymos suggested, "what if we put on a concert? Something where we hire a bunch of pros to do the singing for us?"

"Good idea!" Rachel mocked. "Lemme know when you track down a bunch of pros willing to work for chump change!"

"I mean, we could simply throw the WHAM ARMY into various disguises," Yzma suggested.

"That's a bad idea for a number of reasons," Roman told her. "Still not ruling it out."

"Karaoke night at least had the advantage of community participation," the Liquidator reminded everyone. "Liquid Assets is a friend and part of the customer's family! Which means we let them have a voice!"

"WAIT." Rachel's eyes widened. "What if we did an Open Mic Night? We set up the stage, we set up the microphone, and then people can just come up and do or say what they want. Whatever they fucking want. We don't censor, so there's gonna be at least one public incident of chaos for the villain crowd."

"And people gotta bring their own equipment," Deymos added, "so we don't have to do any of the production work! We could also promise free food and then deliver the bare minimum!"

"Noooo, not that last part," Rachel groaned. "There's evil and there's just needlessly cruel."

"She doesn't get how the whole villain game works, does she?" Roman whispered to Yzma.

"She's learning," Yzma whispered back. "Slowly."

"But anything's fair game!" Rachel went on. "Singing, poetry, monologues, just…just whatever. And we make a whole big thing out of it, oh my God we should set up in the Sandlot, and we just build this community outdoor-event atmosphere."

"A capital idea!" Liquidator proclaimed. "Now all this gig needs is a catchy name and some marketable graphic design! I can handle the latter!"

"Name should be something super pretentious," Deymos said. "Like 'water' but it's spelled weird. With a Y instead of an E. And all caps. WATYR Fest."

"No," Rachel said flatly.

"It's easily recognizable and will get people talking!" Liquidator said. "WATYR Fest it is!"

"She said no," Tony urged, practically in a growl.

"And I say we go with the professional salesman's choice," Mozenrath said. "Next question."

"What ARE we gonna do about food?" Rachel asked. "I'm serious."

"Eh, we'll figure it out later," Yzma resolved. "All I know is I'm not giving two cents over to Le Grand Bistrot. They're supposed to be the ones paying us!"

"They've been late with their payment," Tony remarked. "I'll need to look into that. Worst-case scenario is we have to dump some waitstaff off the coast, but somehow I get the feeling that upstanding miss Colette was forced to make a decision with a gun to her head."

"Nice conspiracy theory," Roman told him. "Twenty bucks says she's just being rebellious and doesn't take you seriously."

"Bet taken," Tony replied.

"Tallulah's on the no-kill list, please," Rachel said. "Colette I'm on the fence about, but no murder-y Tallulah. Also can we get back to WHAT ARE WE GONNA DO ABOUT FOOD?"

"I'll put in the memo internally on the WHAM ARMY side that we need copious amounts of food," Mozenrath said. "Someone'll have to take care of it."

"I'm not really optimistic," Rachel admitted, "buuuuut this is not my problem anymore."

"Hey, question," Roman brought up. "When you say anything goes, do you mean ANYTHING anything?"

"The point is we don't censor," Rachel told him. "Gives us a position of neutrality to make everyone think we're on their side, and also, like I said, incidents for the villain crowd. So yes. Anything-anything. But for the sake of my sex-repulsed ass, please don't show me your dick onstage."

"I'm thinking more like…a fully cast and costumed two-hour musical," Roman said.

"Okay, WAIT." Rachel flinched. "That is NOT what I thought you were going to say EVER."

"Roman," Snatcher sighed, "it'll eat up all our allotted time."

"No, hear me out," Roman went on. "We sneak in at the very end. We start five minutes to close. Our emcee here, the lovely Miss Rachel, will announce last call. Whatever act gets onstage is the last act, but has as much time as they want. That act is us, and next thing you know, we've opened the door for two hours of RENT."

"You're gonna shove a whole-ass production of RENT into Open Mic Night?" Rachel said in disbelief. "I'm not gonna enable that!"

"You have bills to pay, right?" Roman asked her.

"Are you suggesting what I think you're suggesting?" Rachel replied. "Because I only take that bribe, assuming you mean the total for this month's bills, IN ADDITION TO my regular salary."

"You drive a hard bargain, Sunshine," Roman said with a wink. "Consider it an advance. It'll be in your account tomorrow."

"And I also get paid extra for being emcee, right?" Rachel asked.

"Yes, yes," Yzma sighed. "That said, if you put the RENT production on that stage, then that's going to be the WHAM ARMY in various disguises, which was my idea first."

"I told you I wasn't gonna rule it out," Roman reminded her.

"Then let's put an end to break time!" the Liquidator urged. "Draw up a shopping list, make that catering memo, and I'll design a poster that's sure to be eye-catching or your money back! Once we have posters printed, then we'll need a whole brigade out there to advertise, advertise, advertise city-wide!"

"This sounds solid," Tony said. "And at the end of the day, they'll have us to thank for the entertainment."

"A foot planted firmly in the door," Snatcher said with a grin.

"All right, people!" Roman clapped his hands. "Let's get to work!"

They got up to disperse, when Snatcher, having turned away from the table, heard a soft "Hey" from behind him.

He turned to see Rachel, displaying more than a few tells of anxiety, looking up at him. "I. Um." She paused a moment. "I just wanted to say thanks for the sandwich."

"Pay it no mind," Snatcher told her. "And if you're to be our master of ceremonies, I'll be looking forward to whether or not you give each introduction the proper panache."

"I'll try," Rachel said before nodding and taking her leave.

Roman came up to lean against Snatcher's shoulder; "I think someone liiiiikes youuuuu!"

"Poppycock," Snatcher spat. "For one, she wouldn't, and for another, there are SEVERAL reasons I've no interest in the likes of HER."

"Nonono, not romantically," Roman corrected. "It's like…when Neo first started hanging around me back on the farm. Same energy. I think she's gunning to be your Neo."

"As well she should," Snatcher stated. "As to whether she deserves the position is another matter."

"I've got a good feeling about this," Roman said.

"So do I!" Mim's sudden statement reminded everyone she'd been nearby the whole time. "After all, as Rachel said…no censorship means absolute chaos! And we all want that!"

"Okay, now I'm starting to see how she got so corrupt so fast," Roman realized.

...

The Bailey in Radiant Garden now had a new accessory: what appeared to be a garage door set in what was a previously blank wall.

"Okay, Leon." Sulley gestured to a control panel beside the door. "Give it a go."

"Oh, boy, oh, boy!" Mike Wazowski looked as though he was about to explode from excitement. "Monsters, Inc.'s first super-sized door!"

Leon took three steps forward and pressed the gleaming red button. The garage door pulled itself up, folding against the roof of the bailey, slowly revealing what was on the other side.

Roxas, Lea, Naminé, and Mal stood gathered in anticipation, with XR not too far behind. The three humans and one Dream Eater gasped as a soft golden light filtered into the bailey.

When the door was all the way up, it provided a perfect pathway into Twilight Town, coming through the alley by the Usual Spot. Hayner, Pence, and Olette had been informed that the meeting place would be there, and when they saw Radiant Garden on the other side, they all three cheered.

"All RIGHT!" Hayner pumped a fist. "We DID IT!"

Roxas hurtled forward, and Hayner, Pence, and Olette engulfed him in a tight hug. They turned to look at Mal next; she put up her hands and shook her head, so they left her alone.

"You're the famous Lea, right?" Pence trotted up to the redhead.

"The one and only," Lea replied. "Guess I owe ya a thank-you for taking care of Roxas while things were sticky between us."

"Don't worry about it," Pence replied. "We're just excited to finally meet Roxas' other friends. Now we can all hang out together!"

"And on this side, we don't have to worry about people still angry about the whole framing thing," Olette added. She turned to Naminé; "You're Naminé, right?"

Naminé nodded. "You always looked like you were having so much fun in the data and memories I saw," she said. "I always hoped I would be able to join you."

"And now you can!" Olette beamed. "I have SO many questions about how your powers work, but only if you don't mind my asking."

"Not at all!" Naminé smiled.

"How is that whole situation going, with you all being the town pariahs?" XR asked. "Any closer to bagging the real perp? I'm guessing it's slow going, since you don't have me on the case…"

"Still no evidence," Mal sighed. "Still public enemy number one and two."

"It was always my favorite world," Roxas mumbled. "And now I'm not even welcome in it."

Pence put a hand on his shoulder; "We'll find a way to turn it back around."

"And until then, let's talk about less depressing things!" Hayner urged. "Like how Tallulah totally smiled at me from across the restaurant today when she noticed I was there! She didn't do that for anyone else!"

"She's a waitress, Hayner," Olette groaned. "It's her job to be polite."

"Maybe we should take you back to the castle," Leon suggested. "We don't exactly have the best reputation out here, either, depending on who you ask."

"CASTLE TIME!" Hayner yelled enthusiastically. "I am SO pumped!"

"This is gonna be so fun!" Olette chirped.

Most of the group departed; Sulley, Mike, and XR remained.

"Well, it's good to know I now have a shortcut to my business contact," XR stated. "Scrooge McDuck may not have offered me a contract for any of my ideas yet, but I'm wearing him down. I can always tell when I'm getting to them. Anyway, like I said, good thing I have that now and absolutely nothing else about this."

"That was weird, how you said that," Mike pointed out.

"Pshaw." XR flicked a hand. "There's nothing weird about me mentioning a gal in that town that I actively try to avoid at every opportunity because of her big mouth, but those jerks always make me hang out with, so I gotta make the best of it."

"You…didn't even have to bring her up," Sulley observed.

"And?" XR quickly defended. "I don't have to do a lot of things. Do I have to be handsome and perfect in every way? No. I do it anyway. And if I want to bring up that annoyance who I am SO looking forward to bragging to the minute McDuck signs me on because she said I'd never do it? Then I'll bring it up! And if I wanna mention I'm still no closer to finding her mysterious hidden fanfictions? I'll say that too! I won't be silenced, I tell you!"

Mike and Sulley exchanged a knowing look. "Well, okay." Sulley shrugged. "Whoever she is, I'm glad you have a shortcut to avoidable encounters with her."

"Just take it from me," Mike advised. "If you get you and her booked at your local high-end restaurant, make sure it does NOT happen the same night an active contaminant gets loose in the city, and for the love of everything, just let her in on what's going on if that DOES happen!"

"…I'm not exactly sure what exactly you're trying to tell me," XR admitted. "It seems like it requires context. All the same, I appreciate the spirit!"

It took him a while to eventually decide there was, in fact, nothing he needed in Twilight Town at that moment, and he might as well head on back to the castle.

...

When next we see Rachel Inlustris, it is in the offices of the Sunset Gazette.

Rachel liked working at Liquid Assets because among WHAM ARMY, one could be as rude or as mean or even just as outspoken as one wanted, and one wouldn't risk their job security. She did wonder if maybe she wasn't rude or mean enough – after all, the three new supervisors who'd been checking in did seem to be of a higher caliber, what with wanting to poison the whole town. Rachel didn't like the idea of that very much, but also thought that a whole lot of people deserved to have their money milked out of them with quack cures anyway. She wasn't much for murder, but she'd've been lying to say she'd never thought about it.

Especially here, in the Gazette office. Because every bit of confidence Rachel had to be outspoken among the WHAM ARMY was suddenly shrunken and stomped on the minute she entered this building. Here, among the other three staff members of the Gazette, she felt constantly on edge, stomach churning.

For one, they hadn't really trained her. She'd gotten a sink-or-swim introduction, and thus far, was treading water. For another…Rachel had been almost instantly charmed by Archibald Snatcher's boastful eloquence, by Roman Torchwick's friendly demeanor, by Mozenrath's smug confidence. Brahne Alexandros, Dona, and Shelinda were the exact inverse energy. They were all horrible, and it felt horrible to be around them.

Well, at least she started off with only the two basically every shift.

Dona finally made an appearance from her sheltered office where she acted the recluse, dropping a paper list of requests on Brahne's desk, which stood at triangle points from Rachel's and Shelinda's (the latter empty). Brahne immediately reacted as Brahne does.

"NO!" she screeched. "I've got too much to do already! At this rate, I'll never leave this office! Make Rachel do it!"

"Rachel." Dona moved the paper over toward Rachel's desk. "Can I ask you – "

Rachel took one look at the paper. "Sorry. I don't know how to do that. That's graphic design, and I still don't get – "

"Hmph." Dona turned on a heel to move back to Brahne's desk. "I should've known you'd try to weasel out of it. Brahne, you'll have to finish the request."

"WHYYYYY?" Brahne moaned. "There's simply too much to do! Rachel, you awful girl, you're putting too much stress on me!"

"Sorry," Rachel said softly. "But I really don't know how to do it."

Brahne was the graphic designer, after all.

Eventually, Rachel hit another item in her task list she wasn't certain on, so she got up to move to Dona's office – only for Brahne to overtake her and spend her precious time yelling at Dona about how precious her time was.

So Rachel, not wanting to interrupt, waited in the doorway until Dona said "Rachel, stop standing there. It's annoying."

Rachel slunk back to her desk just in time for Shelinda to arrive an hour late.

"Sorry," Shelinda said with a shrug. "It was a tough morning."

It was always a tough morning or what have you with Shelinda. Rachel wasn't sure why she herself was still the office chew toy when between her and Shelinda, Rachel wasn't the one who'd once taken an unplanned, unannounced weeklong vacation to Rabanastre.

(Which Rachel would never do, even if Panic! At the Disco were playing Rabanastre again, because necessary work wouldn't do itself. And the remaining people in the office didn't much appreciate doing necessary work that should've been Shelinda's.)

"Hey, Shelinda?" Rachel approached the other desk. "Could you show me how to do the mailing list again, please?"

"Sure thing!" Shelinda leapt at the opportunity to not have to sit at her desk.

"SHELINDA!" Brahne's mood improved once she emerged from Dona's office to find that Shelinda had arrived. "My dear, it's so good to see you!"

"How are things today?" Shelinda asked.

Shelinda and Brahne had a very unlikely friendship. Sometimes Rachel thought Shelinda had the makings of a good person in her, but Brahne poisoned that completely. Shelinda had actually condemned the anti-Black-Mage article, but would still listen to Brahne rant for hours about how much she felt Black Mages were a blight upon Twilight Town and the empire as a whole.

Like she was doing now, because Brahne had to blabber on about how she'd felt unsafe taking her teenage daughter Garnet to the public library because of the amount of Mages there. Which somehow segued into a rant about how the man Brahne had been flirting with lately had suddenly cut contact with no warning, just like every other man she'd gone after.

Yes, Shelinda liked to listen to this tirade. A little too much. To the point of preparing the mailing list all by herself and not explaining to Rachel a single thing she was doing, just like the last three times.

Eventually, the clock struck noon. Dona emerged from the office. "Lunch is on me today," she said slyly.

"What are we getting?" Rachel asked. "I can pay my own way if you need me to – "

"Oh, this is a lunch for the Gazette veterans," Shelinda said. "Me, Brahne, and Dona need some time to catch up. Besides, someone needs to stay and watch the office. You get it, don't you?"

Rachel got it, all right. Being the newest team member, she wasn't yet a part of the friend group. And probably never would be. And honestly didn't want to be, but it stung knowing that everyone else in the room had agreed to go out to lunch without her while she was sitting right there.

"Yeah," Rachel sighed. "I got it."

"And this time," Dona said, "if anyone comes to drop off a letter to the editor, greet them."

Now, that one had been Rachel's mistake. Call it autism, call it social anxiety, but it simply hadn't occurred to her that if a person walked into the Gazette office with a look in their eyes that suggested they knew what they were doing and were in with the staff, then she should still ask them what they wanted and what they were doing.

"I will," Rachel promised.

Brahne, Dona, and Shelinda moseyed on out, still chatting away. Rachel typed as slowly as she could to make up for the fact that she only really knew how to do half the things she was assigned. She could swear the clock slowed down; she jammed a sandwich into her mouth in the span of five minutes so as to not be hungry but also not abandon her post.

(She'd looked it up, the sandwich Snatcher had given her. Actually a quite common sandwich in certain parts, though it usually would contain butter. She had gleaned he was allergic. But more interestingly, some variants had it contain "brown sauce," which was made of all sorts of seemingly random things. Rachel, who'd been trying to improve her kitchen skills ever since Le Grand Bistrot, had thrown together a pot of tomatoes and Worcestershire sauce and it had turned out pretty tasty on another bacon-and-ketchup sandwich. Also, because she wasn't allergic to it, she'd added butter back to the equation, and even without being microwaved, it tasted too heavenly for the act of swallowing nearly whole.)

Tick, tick, tick. The clock echoed to emphasize her loneliness.

"Watch the office," she huffed. "What do they think is gonna happen anyway? Someone's gonna blow the building up?"

The explosion was so loud and ostentatious that at first, she couldn't believe it had actually happened. A whole chunk of the wall was blown out of Brahne's corner of the office, covering her desk in shrapnel. Rachel's area was unharmed, but still she screamed in terror, because –

(Because when they got back, they'd kill her. Or worse, fire her in disgrace.)

Because this was obviously the deed of someone very dangerous, of course, and her very life could be at stake right now.

Her eyes were glued on the clearing dust, her heart nearly leaping out of her chest. And then came the announcement:

"HELLO, TWILIGHT TOWN HERITAGE MUSEUM! THIS IS GIOVANNI POTAGE, CAPTAIN OF THE BANZAI BLASTERS, AND WE ARE HERE TO ROB…you…"

Through the dust broke a thin silhouette. A man with pink hair, dressed in bright-yellow supervillain's garb. He cut himself off with a look around the office. "I'm, uh…" he slowly realized. "I'm in the wrong building, aren't I?"

"Wh…" Rachel found her voice. "What the FUCK? WHY?" She was on the verge of breaking down completely, trembling all over. "WHY WOULD YOU DO THAT? GET OUT! GET OUT, GET OUT!"

"Uh, yeah," Giovanni said as he backed off. "I'm in the wrong place, so I'm just gonna…man, this was embarrassing. I'm gonna go. Bye."

Then he was gone, and Rachel was left staring at the hole in the wall. She collapsed down into her chair, still gaping.

She was so fired. She could explain all she wanted that this wasn't her fault, but –

"Uh, sorry." The pink-haired man, this "Giovanni," was back. "But which way actually IS the Heritage Museum? I'm kinda lost – "

Rachel just let out a loud wail and slammed her head down onto her desk.

"You're not okay, are you?" Giovanni realized. "Hey…is it because I blew up the wall?"

"I'm dead," Rachel replied. "They're gonna blame it on me because I was supposed to be watching the office. I'm gonna be sent packing, my income is gonna get chopped in half, I can never show my face around here again, and I – and I - !"

"Why would they blame this on you?" Giovanni asked, getting closer to hover over her bent form. "This was clearly the act of a supervillain. You're just an innocent bystander."

"They needed an excuse to throw me out anyway," Rachel replied. "This is it. They're gonna get what they wanted. No more annoying Rachel."

"Whoa," Giovanni realized. "Your co-workers are abusive, aren't they?"

"I studied language conventions," Rachel whined. "Publishing was the job I ALWAYS WANTED."

"Yeah, but if your boss is shit, that's gonna make you hate what you wanted," Giovanni told her. "If you ask me, you should leave. Seriously, if they're gonna blame you for an act of supervillainy – also, where are they? Oh, don't TELL me – did they all go out to lunch together and leave you here alone? ASSHOLES!"

"You know what? SHUT UP!" Rachel looked up, pounding her fist on the desk. "Don't you have a museum to rob? This isn't your fucking problem! Even if it is your fault I won't be able to pay my bills this month." Oh, wait. Roman was covering that in his bribe. "Next month, actually, but same difference."

"I mean…there's other ways," Giovanni said. He hadn't expected to get attached to a bystander, but it was clear this one had been pushed to the breaking point, and he wasn't about to just leave a poor soul. That wasn't the Blaster way! "Like…this museum heist was gonna give me a serious haul. You could pick up some stuff to hawk on the black market and make WAY more than you would have here!"

"You want me to give up my job for CRIME?"

"It's pretty fun," he cajoled, grinning to show off his fangs. "You could come to the museum with us. You'd get to break glass display cases!"

"I can't – " But wait. Did she not work for the WHAM ARMY? Was she not taking bribes to pay her bills, running corrupt schemes and agreeing to let horrible things happen to people she didn't reserve from harm? Was it not the most free she'd felt in years?

"…Fuck it," she decided. "You know what? Yeah. I'm coming. I need to break some stuff right now."

"THAT'S the spirit!" Giovanni swung his fist – then extended the hand to her. "Giovanni Potage, though you heard that in the dramatic introduction."

She took it, shook it. "Rachel Inlustris."

"Hm." Giovanni thought that over. "Not bad, but you're still getting a minion name. Now." He jerked hard on his arm, pulling her up from the chair. "What do you say we leave here and you never talk to those shitlords again?"

Rachel could barely hear over the sound of her heart racing. "Sounds great!"

They left through the hole in the wall. As Rachel stepped out into the late-morning twilight, the gleaming sun illuminated her, and a stray breeze kicked up her blonde hair. Giovanni got a good look, and that was when he realized –

"You're beautiful," he croaked, barely audible.

"What?" Rachel looked to him in confusion. How angelic she looked in the soft light.

"I said the sky is beautiful," Giovanni covered. "This whole perpetual twilight thing is pretty badass."

"Yeah. It is." She smiled. "It's one of the things I like about living here. I take it you're new."

"Yeah."

"Off-world?"

"Yes. No. Maybe? Is that a thing around here that normal people are?"

Rachel snickered. "Yeah. I know plenty."

"Then yes!"

"That sure explains how lost you got." She shrugged. "Heritage Museum is across the district. We should take a tram to save time. Follow me."

Giovanni groaned as he did so. "This is so embarrassing. The boys probably all got there fine and are wondering where I am!"

"The boys?"

"My Blaster squad," Giovanni explained. "My minions! I think you're gonna like 'em. They're pretty easy to get along with. Well, except Ben. But each of the others gets a super cool minion name. Crusher, Spike, Darkstar, Flamethrower, Car Crash…which is why you gotta get one. To fit in and also to drive home how low on the ladder Ben is."

"I take it you don't really like Ben."

"No, I do. It's just one of those things where making fun of him is too good to pass up. Insulting him only makes him stronger."

"You seemed like too nice of a guy to haze one of your minions like that," Rachel said with a smile. Then, wondering: "Are you affiliated with the WHAM ARMY?"

"The whatnow?"

"Never mind."

"We're actually part of a larger syndicate called the Heathens," Giovanni explained. "All I'll say is that we currently occupy a certain lair located within this town, big enough to hold an army without us being bothered. But I won't disclose where, of course – "

"You're squatting in the old mansion, aren't you?"

"WH – NO!"

Rachel laughed. "Don't worry. I won't tell."

They reached a tram track, catching one of the vehicles as it slowed. Then they were aboard, riding across the district.

"Too bad cars aren't really a thing here," Giovanni lamented. "I mean, I'm all for public transport, but I usually like to psyche myself up for a heist with some heist music."

"Oh!" Rachel withdrew a TwiPod from her pocket. "I can help! Hang on!"

She handed him an earbud, keeping one for herself. Then a catchy song thrummed its way to both their ears. "Lemme know if it's too loud," she said.

"This is PERFECT!" Giovanni crowed.

And he continued to praise the mix through the next few songs. "How'd you put together such a good crime playlist anyway?" he asked. "Wait, don't tell me…are you a VILLAIN?"

"It's complicated," she replied, because Giovanni seemed like the type not to judge the crowd she'd fallen in with. "But also I'm a writer."

"Oh? What do you write?"

Oops. Never an easy answer. "Well, mostly I rack up character designs and have no actual story for them."

"So how'd you come up with the whole crime aspect?"

Rachel shrugged.

Giovanni leaned in close to her un-budded ear. "Between you and me," he whispered, "if you write fanfiction, I so don't judge."

Her heart leapt. "You serious? Because I have a one-hundred-and-fifty-one-chapter epic crossover saga based on Bulletproof Hearts going and – and yeah."

Giovanni snapped his fingers. "That's it! You write stories…dare I say you COMPOSE them. And you have all this good music. From here on, your minion name is gonna be…Composer."

She blushed. "I like it. Thanks. So…where'd you come from, anyway?"

"Now that's a story…"

He told her everything. The Heathens, Sweet Jazz City, the whole adventure. He asked her plenty of questions, but she wasn't sure how much to tell him just yet, so she kept it to topics concerning her mundane routine, her fanfiction, and how awful the Gazette staff was.

They disembarked the train together, bopping to the latest heist jam on Rachel's TwiPod as Rachel directed them both to the Heritage Museum – a modest building on the district's edge, one story tall but very long. The other Blasters were already arranged around the front door.

"Dude!" Car Crash yelled. "We've been waiting for like an hour!"

"Sorry," Giovanni told him in a smug tone. "But I was following my destiny. The stars aligned to show me the way to our newest recruit. Everyone, meet Composer."

"Hi!" Spike waved. "I'm Spike!"

"Crusher," Crusher grunted. "Nice to meet you."

"You're here for the robbery?" Flamethrower asked.

"Yeah," Rachel said proudly. "I am. The best part is basically nobody comes to this place. We're talking one receptionist and one security guard max."

"Yeah," Ben affirmed, "nobody's gone in since we showed up. Or told us off for loitering."

"Then what are we waiting for?" Giovanni asked. "Let's get this party STARTED!"

This time, the wall exploded in the right place.

Both the receptionist and the guard had scurried off when confronted with a whole passel of villains in uniform. Rachel estimated they had precious little time to carry out their raid before actual police showed up, so the Blasters went to town, rushing from exhibit to exhibit to break as many glass cases as possible for the valuables inside.

"You know the context of this stuff, don't you?" Giovanni asked as he tucked an original blueprint, age-weathered, of the town's bell tower under his arm.

"Not really," Rachel replied. "History's not my thing. I know the basics about the Founders, but that's it."

"Founders?"

"Yeah, four friends who established the town. They had color symbolism and stuff and – oh, holy SHIT, this is their armory!"

They'd entered an exhibit full of weapons and armor. "JACKPOT!" Giovanni cried. "Now, THIS is the stuff that'll fetch the big bucks!"

"Wow." Rachel gaped as she approached one particular case. Within it was a crossbow whose base would lace to one's arm like a gauntlet. She read the descriptive plaque; "This belonged to Miseric, one of the founders."

"You knowwwww," Giovanni cajoled, "if you see something you like, you can so totally keep it."

Rachel put out her hand; "Give me the bat."

She whacked the glass – not as satisfyingly as she wanted, because she was focusing on not damaging the bow. Soon the weapon was freed; she laced it to her own arm. It was lighter than she'd expected.

"Play with the buttons and stuff!" Giovanni urged.

So Rachel did. The limbs of the crossbow could disappear or reappear at will by magic, or disengage so they could be swung around front and locked together to make a longsword that projected from the arm. There were no visible arrows, but Rachel found an indentation in the leather, behind the limbs.

"You'd put a sunstone here," she explained. "It probably shoots whatever power stone you have in."

"Okay, dumb idea here," Giovanni said. "So dumb it just might work, though. That looks about the same size as your music player thingy."

"No way," Rachel said. "An ancient founder weapon wouldn't mesh with modern tech."

"Or maybe an ancient founder weapon was so magical that it could transcend time!"

"Okay, now I gotta do it to prove to you that it won't work." Rachel inset the TwiPod. "See? Nothing."

"You gotta pick a song, though!" Giovanni urged.

"Fiiiiine." Rachel selected a particular upbeat tune. "Oh, look how much it doesn't – "

A bolt of lightning crackled into place, settling itself where an arrow would on the bow, sizzling in place.

"WORK?" Rachel reeled. "OH, HOLY SHIT!"

She aimed at a blank spot on the wall, letting the bolt fly with a thunderclap. The hole left behind was sizeable.

"SWEEEEEET!" Rachel shrieked.

"You are ARMED AND READY, Composer!" Giovanni urged, hoping she didn't see how hard he was blushing. (It wasn't his fault he liked women wielding weapons.) "You…uh…you gonna shoot some more things?"

"HELL YEAH, I'M GONNA SHOOT SOME MORE THINGS!"

The rest of the armory of the Founders, plus several more curios that played a role in Twilight Town's founding, was raided. The museum was quite damaged by this point. Rachel didn't even feel guilty, which was a first.

"Okay, we gotta find a place to regroup!" Spike urged.

"Why can't we just go back to the mansion?" Ben asked.

"DUDE!" Car Crash hissed. "We can't just take a newbie back to the UNSPECIFIED EVIL LAIR!"

"Your secret's safe, guys," Rachel promised.

"But, uh…" Crusher shuffled a foot. "The mansion's our Heathens base. Shouldn't we have another lair that's just for Blasters? Somewhere secret we can be alone?"

Giovanni turned to Rachel. "You know this town! Got us a handy-dandy lair?"

"Actually…" Rachel's eyes widened. "Follow me."

She led them down back streets (so as not to have them sighted with the stolen goods) until they reached Station Square. Inside the train station, Rachel took them up a side stairway, and at first Giovanni thought she was leading them back up to the top of the bell tower until she actually opened a door at a much lower landing, slipping through a gap in the stone walls on this floor. The other Blasters followed to find a small lounge, completely unused, situated on a balcony that overlooked the trains. There was enough seating for all of them – two long couches and three armchairs.

"Welcome to the Eagle's Nest." Rachel flopped onto one of the armchairs. "I come up here all the time when I wanna be alone to write."

"You…" Giovanni's eyes widened. "You gave us your whole entire writing sanctuary? For our evil lair?"

"I owed you big-time for getting me out of the Gazette," Rachel told him. "Which…I still have to figure out a long-term plan for."

While most of the Blasters settled on the couches to exchange loot, Giovanni fell into the armchair next to Rachel's. "You could just become a villain," he told her. "You could make so much money freelancing, just so long as you don't end up pouring all your money into a pyramid scheme."

"That's an incredibly specific warning."

"Don't worry about it. But think about it! If you joined up with me and the boys on more heists, you actually have such a home-field advantage that you'd be able to help us big-time! We could steal so much cool loot!"

"Are we gonna be able to black-market this?" Rachel asked. Then realized that was a stupid question, because if she showed her spoils to Tony, he'd definitely be able to round up a buyer within the hour.

"Oh, no problem," Giovanni told her. "One of my pals back at the Heathens is making contacts. I tell you, they don't call him 'Felony Carl' for nothing."

"Sounds like your friends are cool," Rachel said. "Villain syndicate?"

"Yeah," Giovanni asserted. "They're the bad guys who are, y'know, not the BAD kind of bad guys. We don't hurt people who don't have it coming, and murder is on a necessity-only basis, which is pretty much never. We're into the real deal: the thievery and stickin' it to the man!"

Rachel beamed. This sounded like fun. Maybe if she could shape up enough for the WHAM ARMY and also meet Giovanni's other friends, she could have two whole crime syndicates as her found family!

Now that was just too wishful of thinking. More likely just a few evil pals on each side.

"You should meet 'em," Giovanni urged. "Hey, you could even JOIN 'em! Whaddaya say?"

Joining would've been a conflict of interest, considering what the WHAM ARMY was capable of. "I'll take a rain check on that. It's a big commitment. But I'd love to meet them, though!"

"They'll LOVE you!" Flamethrower broke in. "We already do!"

Rachel felt herself filling with light. "I like you guys, too!"

They chatted for a while about nothing up there in the Eagle's Nest. Rachel learned a lot about the Blasters, and they didn't mock her love of fanfiction (except Ben, who got cuffed on the head by three different Blasters for it). Somehow, they all got to talking about food, and then came the revelation –

"YOU CAN MAKE SOUP OUT OF NOWHERE?" Rachel screamed. "HOW COME YOU DIDN'T USE THAT EARLIER? THAT'S SO COOL! I WISH I COULD DO THAT!"

"That's…" Giovanni's eyes misted. "The nicest thing anybody's ever said about my Epithet…"

"Well, it's TRUE!" Rachel insisted. "I've actually been trying to learn to cook, and believe me, that'd be such a great shortcut."

"Well, I get more proficient at it by actually learning the techniques of making soup," Giovanni clarified. "Which means I'm a little bit of a chef, even with no Epithet involved. Hey, uh…if you're learning…then you could, y'know, uh…" She was too pretty and too nice and he was tripping on the words. "Come by the mansion for lessons. You could meet the others there too…"

"Let's plan on it," Rachel said with a bright smile.

An alarm went off from a phone in her pocket. "Sorry, guys!" She leapt up. "Gotta go! I have a closing shift at the other job."

"Hey," Giovanni called after her as she scurried off, "lemme know if you need me to save you from that boss, too!"

"I'm good!" Rachel laughed, thinking about him trying to stand up to Mim. Actually, probably a good thing she liked Mim enough that he wouldn't try.

"SAME TIME, SAME PLACE NEXT WEEK!" Giovanni yelled. "COME TO PICK UP YOUR CUT!"

"OKAY!"

Rachel put in both earbuds, picking a jaunty song and letting it fill her step with spring on her way to Liquid Assets. All considered, things were pretty good.

She couldn't even be mad that she was headed to another shift with Deymos. Really, the threat of falling for him again hadn't been as bad as she'd thought. Yes, he was still handsome and quirky and filled with banter. But now she didn't need that quite so much. After all, she had Tony there to protect her, to be interested in what she had to say, to tell her about his violent escapades that were more entertaining than they had any right to be.

And in terms of bantering, she had XR for that. Their faux rivalry was completely transparent by this point, but still a game they both truly enjoyed. Especially now that Rachel was a full-time villain (the logical conclusion of holding two part-time villain gigs) and he was a cop, and that would normally make her nervous, but it was actually kind of exhilarating to think of how this would fuel their dynamic.

Now she had Giovanni's friendship, too. He was bubbly, loud, a sore thumb sticking out in the way she always loved. His company made her feel joyful and alive. She could hardly wait to see him again, especially if it meant he could teach her how to make soup.

Yes, Rachel certainly had enough fulfilling friendships with men to make up for her past relationship with Deymos. She felt safe, alive, fun. The way she used to with him.

Wait.

That wasn't friendship she was feeling. That was more akin to a crush. And if it were a crush, singular, then that wouldn't have been such a problem. One guy to eventually confess to and hope it would go somewhere. But she had three.

Three who had moral philosophies completely at odds with one another. And who probably wouldn't be too keen on her spreading her flirting around so casually.

This revelation was enough to make her temporarily halt in her tracks in a crowded square and draw attention by loudly yelling "SHIT!".

...

In the early morning, Jaune Arc, Lie Ren, Nora Valkyrie, Ruby Rose, and Blake Belladonna had gathered by the large door to Twilight Town in the bailey. It was a Remnant reunion; all they needed was Penny and Weiss to show up.

Penny came first, thankfully. "I am shopping-ready!" she said with a big grin.

"GREAT!" Ruby chirped. "Okay, since we're all here, here's the plan. We walk around, we do some absolutely normal shopping, and then we split into two groups. Blake and I will keep Weiss distracted while you guys get all the stuff on the secret list."

"Seems pretty foolproof," Blake said with a smile.

"Our mystery operation is under way!" Penny swung a fist. Of course, she knew exactly what the operation was, but half the fun was acting furtive about it, keeping Weiss in the dark.

"By the way, Penny…" Jaune shifted. "There's…there's something we'd like to ask you."

"What is it?" Penny asked.

"Nora had an idea," Ren explained. "She brought it up to the rest of us, and we didn't need to talk it over very long before we realized it was a good one."

"Fair warning," Nora said. "It's more of a formality than anything, since, y'know, we don't have Huntsman Academies anymore."

"Ever since the Fall of Beacon," Jaune explained, "you've been away from your old team. And we…well…we've had a loss."

"Pyrrha," Penny said mournfully. "I am so sorry – "

"It's okay!" Jaune put up his hands. "You didn't do anything wrong. I promise. But we're three and you're one, and…"

"Let's not forget that your name starts with P," Nora added, "so it kinda just makes sense at this point."

"We'd like you to become part of Team JNPR," Jaune said at last. "Again, it's…not gonna mean much since we're off-campus. But I just thought it'd be nice for you to know that you have a team to count on."

"We'd look after you," Ren added. "Not that we wouldn't if you weren't on our team, but we can act the way a training Huntsman team does. We're there for you either way."

"You…" Penny's eyes widened. "You want me to join your team in the space that Pyrrha had?"

"Pretty much!" Nora beamed.

"I…I…" Penny stammered. "I do not know if this is okay!"

"Penny," Nora said sternly, "I wouldn't have brought it up if it wasn't okay. Jaune and Ren wouldn't be on board if it wasn't okay."

If Penny had possessed tear ducts, they would've been going into overdrive. "Thank you," she said. "Thank you so much!"

"So you'll do it?" Jaune asked.

"YES!" Penny cried as she leapt, enveloping all three of her new teammates into a crushing hug.

"Can't breathe!" Jaune gasped as her metal arms tightened.

"Hey, I know what I signed up for," Nora scoffed, leaning into Penny.

Blake looked to Ruby. "Do you think we'll ever be together as a team again? With Yang?"

"I don't doubt it for a second," Ruby replied.

Then came two chatting voices; Weiss and Kazuichi walked into the bailey, talking about vehicles and other mechanisms. Then Weiss said, "Well, here's my stop."

"Okay!" Kazuichi replied. "Have fun!" He looked to Ruby, giving her a wink. "You know…HAVE FUN."

Ruby winked back. Then realized what was different. Instead of pink eyes, Kazuichi now had his natural brown irises, behind a pair of modest spectacles.

He headed off, and Weiss asked Ruby, "What was that all about?"

"What was what all about?" Ruby replied.

"That was suspicious," Weiss told her. "Like you two were planning something."

"No," Ruby said quickly. "No, we're not. Hey, you notice how good he looks in glasses now?"

Weiss shifted; "That…that was my mistake."

"How is him wearing glasses a mistake you made?" Blake asked.

"Well…okay," Weiss admitted. "So we've been spending a lot of time…alone together. And it's been GREAT. But I kinda messed up the last time. He had his contacts out since, y'know…I'll let you fill in the blank…and he put his glasses on when we were just hanging out in the room together, and I told him they looked adorable. Well, what I forgot was that he's changed his entire aesthetic before to match public perception. Now he won't go back to the contacts because I said I liked the glasses."

"And you prefer him in contacts," Blake guessed.

"No!" Weiss insisted. "I don't care! He's cute either way! But I want him to wear what he wants to wear, not something I said I liked that he doesn't want! I keep trying to tell him he doesn't have to, but he keeps saying it's what he wants, but I KNOW he's wearing them because of me, so how do I get it into his thick head that he doesn't have to change that for me?"

"That sounds like the opposite of a problem," Ruby noted. "That actually sounds adorable."

"And don't think you actually managed to distract me from your secret plan," Weiss stated. "But knowing you, I'll find out eventually, when you want me to."

"If there was a secret plan, then yes," Ruby replied. "But there's no secret plan, so no."

"We're all here," Blake pointed out. "Should we go?"

"Lots to do and little time!" Nora added.

The seven turned an about-face to line up at the door. "Team RWBY-minus-one and JNPR," Ruby directed. "MOVE OUT!"