Inspector Javert awoke to utter blackness. She was momentarily surprised at the surroundings, or lack thereof, and blinked several times just in case. Her super-long whorelashes tickled her cheeks and nose when she did this, so she stopped.

Suddenly a neon green sign blinked on in the darkness.

YOU HAVE BEEN DIVERTED.

Javert frowned, blinked, sneezed, and continued to stare.

The sign clicked off, then on again, but the words had changed.

INSPECTOR JAVERT.

BE AFRAID.

Javert scratched her head with her long red nails, confusion filling her violet-green eyes.

The last two words grew slowly brighter, then brighter still, and Javert had to look away for fear of being blinded. The entire room was gradually illuminated, and several-odd shapes began to take form. Four or nine or something like that, to be exact.

"Very effective," murmured one of the shapes.

Another moved slightly, saying, "Id is, is't id? Id sure scared be da first tibe I saw id!"

"Inspector Javert!" the closest shape said loudly, "we have brought you here to give you a chance to confess!"

"Confess! Confess!" the others echoed.

"We will give you to the count of ten... to tell us what you did with our brave leader!"

"And the drunkard!"

Javert stared dumbly at them. "What?"

"You will not confess?" the foremost shape demanded.

"Confess?"

"Confess! Confess!" cried the group.

"What do you mean?" Javert's eyes were growing more accustomed to the dimness, and she saw a crumpled police uniform on the floor by her feet.

"Confess!" the shape said again. "You have taken our friends! Marius said so!"

"Wait... at least I wasn't impersonating an officer of the law!"

Montparnasse suddenly emerged from the shadows and seized Javert by the forearm, dragging her through the gaping plot hole.

Javert shook her head and glanced around. The two were standing before the police station. "What in the world was that?" the prostitute demanded.

"Plot hole," Montparnasse answered quickly. "They happen all the time. Basically, the Authoress put in a twist to the story, had no idea what to do next, spent months procrastinating, and then took the easiest way out. It's been done thousands of times."

"I... see," Javert lied.

"Lucky for you," Montparnasse grinned, "I swiped this."

He held out a small vial with a picture of Philip Quast plastered to the side.

"Drink it," he urged.

Javert took the potion, turning it over in her elegant hands. "This is... the antidote? The cure? It will make me myself again?"

"Sadly enough, it will."

And without further ado, Javert swallowed the contents of the bottle.