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Part Two - Olympus Coliseum

-Chapter Fourteen-
Maleficent's Madness
۵۵۵۵۵

"Why, that no-good, double-crossing, two-faced, back-stabbing, big blue baboon!" Maleficent fumed, her sinister, chartreuse eyes seething with wrath as she spewed forth her string of compound-worded abuse. "How dare he attempt to deceive me! And what in the Nine Hells is he doing with Hojo?"

The man in the mirror momentarily interrupted his indolent examination of what had once been a well-manicured nail, now yellowed with age and cracked from neglect, and cast an insolent roll of weary eyes at the wicked witch. "Hadst thou even the smallest smattering of actual grey matter in thy vacuous cranial cavity," he replied disdainfully, "'twould be apparent why the oversized cerulean Theropethicus consorts with such dregs of depravity."

Maleficent narrowed her eyes in annoyance, but kept them glued to the mirror. "And what in the hell is that supposed to mean?" she snapped, leaning in closer to better see the scene unfolding before her. A wisp of putrid green smoke issued from one nostril and curled around the tip of her long, sharp nose, causing the man in the mirror to gag, in turn causing ripples to temporarily distort the mirror's clear, glassy surface. "Be still!" Maleficent commanded.

"Then kindly stop respiring in my face," Mim spluttered; "thy dragon-breath stench could asphyxiate the human race!"

"Oh shut up, you moronic mirror and answer my question."

"Whilst I find it nearly as odious as thy foul, fetid breath to lower mine own impeccable standards to thine inferior lingual level, bravely shall I suffer the ignoble indignity that I might more clearly convey my meaning regarding the devious devil. In other words, oh most perspicacious mistress mine, though tis torture most grievous to be reduced to verbiage so insipid and crude, I shall attempt to express myself in a manner more suited to thine own aptitude. In other words

"Enough!" Maleficent barked. "And I thought I told you to can it with all that 'thee and thine' crap!"

"In other words," Mim continued, undeterred; "to anyone with half a brain, Hades' ambitions should be quite plain."

"Don't you get uppity with me, you impudent, ill-mannered mirror, or I'll smash you to smithereens."

Mim plastered the back of a translucent hand to his pasty brow and let out a melodramatic gasp. "Oh, how it makes me quiver and quake! Why, the mere thought of such a tragedy makes me shiver and shake! To be forever deprived of thy glorious rule – surely, oh most magnificent Maleficent, not even thou couldst be so cruel."

"God, you are such a nitwitted nancy." Maleficent sighed. "I've half a mind to smash you to smithereens anyway."

"Half a mind indeed," Mim muttered under his breath. "I think you give yourself far too much credit."

"I'm not the one stuck inside a mirror," Maleficent pointed out with malicious satisfaction, tapping the silvery surface of his prison with the end of her staff.

"Whilst tis true I hath suffered unspeakable injustice at the hands of thine unholy kind, do not mistake me for some lowly-born peasant of witless mind. Nay, Wicked Witch, your idle threats make me not nervous, for I know thou hast need of my service." Stupid Bitch. Why, oh why, did he always get stuck with the ugly old witches?

Why couldn't he belong to someone like that beautiful, kind-hearted Belle or that sweet and innocent Cinderella?

Or better yet, how about that pretty little pawn of Hades? Though he seriously doubted the spiky-haired warrior would have much use for a mirror ... indeed, the beautiful, blue-eyed blond seemed barely able to tolerate even the briefest of glimpses of his own reflection.

But that other one – that godlike creature with the cat green eyes and the hair of flowing silver – surely, he would have need of a mirror? It must take him hours to brush out all those long, resplendent locks. Mim lasciviously licked his thin, papery lips.

What he wouldn't give to hang on that man's bedroom wall. He woefully eyed the ugly old hag he was stuck with instead. Life sucked.

Which reminded him ... "And before thou even needst ask it of me, allow me to say there are many much fairer than thee. For a start, the seven lovely Princesses of Heart, to name but a few, but I assure thee, the list shall grow quite voluminous before we are through."

Maleficent glared at her insubordinate chattel. "How many times must I tell you, Mim; I am not my vain half sister! The juvenile preoccupation with such trivial matters as personal appearance do not interest me in the least."

"And it shows, believe me, it shows," Mim muttered.

"You should be grateful that I rescued you from the clutches of that wicked Evil Queen," Maleficent continued, ignoring his last comment. "Thereby also saving you, might I remind you, from the even more horrible fate of being handed down to her dreadful daughter."

"Stole, Maleficent," Mim corrected. "I believe the word you are seeking is stole. Rescue means 'deliverance from danger, violence, evil, or imprisonment', the inherent implication being that the rescuee desires such deliverance by the rescuer, leading one to the logical inference that said deliverance would lead to an improvement in said rescuee's situation, and I assure you that I do not find my current set of circumstances in any way an improvement upon my last. Nor was I ever, at any time during the Evil Queen's possession, in any danger or under any threat of violence, such as being smashed to smithereens, from which I required rescuing. As for the 'evil or imprisonment' part, being rescued by you has freed me from neither.

"And furthermore," he continued before the witch could get a word in edgewise, "what could possibly make you think that belonging to you is in any way, shape or form preferable to having been inherited by Ultimecia? At least Ultimecia had some rather attractive assets," he added with a lecherous smirk, "as well as the intelligence to utilize them to her advantage." He almost added that Maleficent might have been wise to take a few fashion tips from her younger half sister, but the thought of Maleficent in one of Ulti's revealing gowns succeeded at last in staying his exceedingly verbose tongue.

As expected, Maleficent flew into a rage. "The only thing attractive about that over-cosmeticated, under-dressed, self-obsessed slut was the look on her face when I sent her and her precious castle into the future," Maleficent shrieked, punctuating her outrage with a sharp strike of her staff against the floor and sending poor Diablo flailing into the air in a flurry of feathers, squawking in indignation at having been so rudely uprooted from his perch. With an irritated ruffle, he settled back down on his mistress's shoulder instead.

"Cosmeticated? I don't believe that is even a proper word," Mim pointed out helpfully, not that he expected Maleficent to care, which was good, because she didn't. As a matter of fact, she no longer seemed to even be aware of Mim's existence.

"Oooh," she seethed, storming back and forth in front of the mirror. "It was always 'Ulti this and Ulti that!' 'Why, isn't she adorable!' they cooed, and 'Look how smart she is!' just because she cast her first spell at the age of five months. It was only one measly little ice crystal, for Hades' sake, but the way everyone swooned over the precocious little brat, you would have thought that Hell itself had frozen over!

"So what if I didn't learn my first spell until I was two? It didn't mean I wasn't as good as Little Miss High-and-Mighty Hussy. Everybody knows it's perfectly normal for children to develop at their own pace! Well, who's the better witch now, little sister?" Maleficent hissed.

"Oh dear," Mim crooned, "did I hit upon a touchy subject?" As if he didn't know.

But Maleficent was so lost inside her madness now that she didn't even hear Mim speak, and the words that spewed from her mouth like caustic spittle were not directed at him, but at the one who was no longer there to hear them.

"Poor little Ulti, for all your brilliance, where did it get you? Flung to the far reaches of the future, that's where! Exiled to the wasteland of another world! So much promise, everyone said, so much talent, but in the end, it was no match for mine. While you were busy wrapping everyone around your phony little finger, I was hard at work, learning the magics of teleportation and time. Oh, it took me years, all right, but I did it, didn't I, little sister?"

A loud screech of laughter erupted from Maleficent's mouth, once again uprooting poor Diablo and grating against the walls of Mim's prison like the scrape of claws on chalkboard, causing Mim to cringe with discomfort and recoil in disgust; he knew exactly what was coming next. Maleficent abruptly turned her scathing glare to the man in the mirror and demanded, "Show me my moment of glory!"

Mim made his feelings on the matter known with another roll of eyes and a contemptuous huff, still he did as he was told and dutifully loaded the scene for Maleficent's sadistic satisfaction, a scene so often requested that he kept it bookmarked for easy retrieval. The mirror momentarily faded to static as he flipped a switch and adjusted the internal controls from the present to the past; then a slightly younger Maleficent, locked in concentration, came into focus on the mirror's silvery surface:

To another world in another age,
Your precious castle shall be your cage,
And halls once bright with gilded gold
Shall fall to sorrows not yet told.

Doomed to your wretched existence alone,
Never to find your way back home,
With nothing but hatred to fill your mind,
Forever chained on the dark wings of time.

A cruel smile spread across Maleficent's face as she chanted along with the younger version of herself in the mirror, her black heart filling with delight as she watched Ultimecia being sucked into a swirling vortex of darkness and deep purple, but the sight brought no pleasure to Mim. As far as evil sorceresses and wicked witches went, little Ulti had been a light-hearted child, and she had often made it a point to visit Mim when her mother was away; a bright spot in his otherwise dull and monotonous day.

Besides, her bitter fate at the hands of her vengeful half sister, imprisoned forever in a foreign world, hit a little too close to home for comfort.

Maleficent, however, never seemed to tire of the scene and was savoring the look of growing horror on Ultimecia's pale face as she began to realize the depth of her sister's betrayal.

"So who's the brilliant one now?" Maleficent sneered, grasping in vain at the dying embers of elation as Ultimecia vanished into the void and the scene began to disappear from view. Then the mirror went dark, leaving nothing but the faded image of a tired and worn-looking Mim in its depths.

"What a pity you can't show the future," Maleficent griped, turning away from the mirror in disappointment; her moment of triumph was always over too soon. "Now, that would be a truly useful ability."

"No one can see the future," Mim muttered sullenly, having lost interest in his baiting game. "Not even a magic mirror nor a wicked witch."

"Still, wouldn't it be nice to see how our dearest little Ulti is doing?" Maleficent mused. "I do hope she appreciates the darling pets I sent along to keep her company through all the long, weary years; I'm not entirely heartless, you know." She erupted into another ear-splitting shriek of laughter that rattled the walls of Mim's prison so hard he thought they truly might shatter this time.

"Little Ulti always had such a soft spot for strays," Maleficent continued, wiping the tears of amusement from the corner of a hateful eye. "I just know the little creatures will completely steal her heart! And I do hope she likes the way I redecorated her precious castle. Gloom is such a lovely color, don't you think, Mim?"

In spite of the fact that his own mood had taken a decidedly gloomy turn, Mim refused to allow the witch the last word; he might not be able to avenge Ultimecia, nor save her from her terrible fate, but he could at least spoil some of Maleficent's pleasure. "Does it rankle you that Daddy Dearest loved little Ulti more than he loved you? Or is it merely the fact that he never bought you a big, fancy castle which galls you so?"

"I don't need Father to buy me a castle." Maleficent huffed, refusing to take the bait this time. "I'm perfectly capable of finding one for myself."

"Right. Like that charming manor you looked at in that quaint little town of ... oh, what was it called again... Nibelheim, I believe? Or that lovely place you've been staying at in Hollow Bastion – guaranteed to impress the neighbors and make the relatives jealous. My oh my, you've done so well for yourself, haven't you, old girl."

"You know, people who live in glass houses shouldn't throw stones," Maleficent countered, focusing her venomous gaze on the diaphanous image in the mirror. "I suggest you take a good, long look at yourself in that mirror. Oh that's right; you can't, can you?" She curled her upper lip in a derisive smile. "You're on the wrong side of it!"

Wrong side, indeed, Mim lamented to himself. He had to hand it to her, the old girl was a lot smarter than he gave her credit for; she knew exactly where to prick him to make it sting. Allowing himself a moment to indulge in one of the last remaining comforts in the cruel injustice of his life, Mim retreated to the temporary solace of self-pity to properly salt his wounds.

Oh, what a lowly station he had sunk to, he of noble birth, born from the bluest of blood and held in the highest regard – esteemed in the eyes of his elders, deferred to by his peers and feared by those beneath him – reduced to this mere mockery of a man. He was nothing now but a hand-me-down, passed from one Evil Queen or Wicked Witch to the next; even his prestigious name, long lost. Now he was known to those he was forced to serve only as the man in the mirror: Mim.

Technically, Mim mused, that should be Mitm, or Tmitm, or even TmitmmThe Man in the Magic Mirror – if one wanted to get really technical about it, but that was a bit of a mouthful, even for him. He'd be damned if he was going to refer to himself with a lisp. Oh, the indignities!

He had once been a man of great means, accustomed to getting whatever, whomever he desired at the supercilious snap of his aristocratic fingers, but alas, he had attempted to dally with the wrong lad. How was he to know the lad's mum was so skilled in the black arts? Now he had to resort to shameful spying to get his jollies, condemned to forever covet the soft skin and silky hair he would never again be able to touch with corporeal fingers. His world was merely a reflection.

"You still haven't answered my question." Maleficent sharply rapped on the mirror's surface with her knuckles, rudely interrupting Mim's self-pity session. "What is Hades doing with Hojo?"

Mim let out a long-suffering sigh and truthfully answered her question. He was, after all, required to do so by the rules governing individuals entrapped inside inanimate objects, though he sometimes had to wonder what would happen if he defied them. What were the authorities going to do to him? Smash him to smithereens?

Would that really be such a terrible thing?

His wretched existence wasn't much of an existence to cling to; nevertheless, it was the only one Mim had and cling to it he did. "Building his own army is Hades' traitorous plan, thereby wresting control of the Heartless from thine own twisted hands."

"Why, that no-good, double-crossing, back-stabbing–" Maleficent started up again, but abruptly cut herself short. "Show me the scene when Hades and Hojo first met," she demanded.

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"Get me Hojo," Maleficent ordered, teleporting into Hades' humble hellhole as if she owned the joint.

Boy, she really pissed him off. Who the hell did she think she was? He was the God of the Underworld; stupid witch ought to show a little respect. Hades took his sweet time strolling over to the Well of Damned Souls.

"Sometime this week would be good," Maleficent snapped impatiently, not noticing, or perhaps just not giving a damn, that small flickers of red were beginning to lick the tips of Hades' hair.

"I'm working on it, I'm working on it," he snarled in return, searching through the boiling vat of corrupted humanity for the particular louse that Maleficent wanted. Ah, yes. Professor Hojo.

With all the sinful souls that passed through his gates every day, Hades could hardly be expected to remember every single, wicked one of them individually, but Hojo, he remembered quite well – the greasy little maggot: Immoral and malicious, vicious and vile. Diabolical, depraved, and demented. A thoroughly noxious human being, rotten all the way through to the core with no redeeming factors of any kind whatsoever.

Just Hades' sort of fellow.

"It's crowded in there," he muttered with an air of inflated self-importance. "So don't go getting your panties in a bunch."

Poor Mim shuddered at the image evoked in his mind by Hades unfortunate choice of words – Maleficent and panties in the same breath; dear god, that was just disgusting. When he turned almost as green as Maleficent, she hissed at him irritably, "I already know this part, you nitwit; you've gone too far back."

"You asked for the scene where Hades and Hojo first met," Mim reminded her, still he grudgingly fast-forwarded through Maleficent's interrogation of Hojo, who – though arrogant and uncooperative – honestly didn't seem to know anything about Ansem or his reports, and when she inquired about the Door to Darkness, Hojo thought she was referring to the gates of Hell. Unable to learn anything useful, Maleficent ordered Hades to throw the witless worm back in the pit and teleported off in a hissy.

"Here!" Maleficent cried, and Mim slowed the playback down to normal speed. He was rather curious, himself, and watched with interest as the scene rolled out before them. Hades was fuming. The little red flickers at the tips of his hair had burst into fully blown flames.

"Ooooh," he seethed, clenching his fists, his entire body burning with rage. "Boy, she really pisses me off, popping in here whenever she pleases and ordering me around like one of her common lackeys. Why, if she didn't have control of the Heartless, I'd ... I'd .." Suddenly remembering that he wasn't alone, Hades whipped around to find Hojo standing there smirking, of all the nerve. "And what the hell are you so smug about, you greasy little weasel?" He raised his arm in anger, but before he could cast the slimy professor back into the abyss, Hojo stopped him with a smarmy smile.

"Why not build your own Heartless army?" he suggested, seeing an opportunity to further his own agenda. If he played his cards correctly, he could soon be back in business.

And he wouldn't mind helping Hades put that dumb bitch in her place, either. Witless worm, indeed.

"And how in the name of Zeus do I do that?" Hades snorted, expelling two little puffs of black smoke from his nose as the flames in his hair began to subside. "I may be God of the Underworld, but even I can't just pull Heartless out of my ass!"

"No, but you could pull them from that," Hojo stated, pointing to the black hole from which Hades had summoned him just a short while before. "If Heartless are born from the darkness in people's hearts, as that insufferable witch indicated, why not the darkness in people's souls? You have an endless supply at your fingertips – the blackest of souls from all of the worlds."

"Keep talking," Hades said.

Though he was careful to keep any sign of contempt from seeping through his pores and onto his face and any hint of condescension from creeping into his voice, inwardly, Hojo was sneering; god, this was going to be far too easy. Hades eyes were already glazing over with greed and delusions of grandeur.

For dramatic effect, Hojo adopted what he hoped would come off as a 'studious' pose – supporting his chin in the palm of one hand, elbow on the back of his other arm – and began to tap his fingers on the side of his face. After a measured pause, he then began to hypothesize out loud, partially to impress Hades, but mostly just for the pleasure of hearing his own brilliant voice.

"Once I have replicated the process of creating these Heartless – child's play, no doubt, if this Ansem fellow was able to do it – I can then begin to develop a far superior creature by applying the same formula I used in producing SOLDIERS. As previously pointed out, we have an endless supply of undead, as well as unlimited access to Dark Mako from the corrupted Lifestream of the Underworld. Other than a laboratory – state of the art, of course," he added arrogantly – "there is just one other small little thing I would need."

Hades' eyes narrowed suspiciously. "And that would be?"

"Jenova cells," Hojo answered.

Ah – he knew there had to be a catch. Nothing was ever that easy, not even in Heaven or Hell. "And just where do you plan on getting these Jenova cells?" Hades asked skeptically. He had a feeling he knew where this was going.

"Why, from my dear son, of course. Bring him to me, and I can clone the cells in his body."

Hades let out a cynical snort, expelling another small puff of smoke. Sephiroth, Hojo's prodigious progeny. He'd almost had him in his clutches twice now, but the damn bastard kept refusing to die.

"No can do," Hades replied. "Technically, Sephiroth isn't totally dead and, therefore, not within my domain. Though his body was destroyed, fragments of it remain, and his will is keeping them from fully returning to the Lifestream."

"And what is a small technicality to a god?" Hojo goaded. "Or is it beyond your abilities, being only one of the lesser gods?"

"Of course it's within my power!" Hades bristled.

"So you're just afraid of Big Brother then?" Hojo suggested, playing Hades perfectly; his resentment of Zeus was well known below.

At that point, Maleficent and Mim thought that Hades must have self-combusted, for the chamber suddenly filled up with smoke so thick they couldn't see a thing, but as it began to disperse, they could see Hades still standing there with Hojo. Then the smoke dissipated completely, and there was Sephiroth as well, in all his naked, godlike glory. He scanned the area calmly, his eyes narrowing when they landed on Hojo.

"Welcome to the Underworld, Boy," Hojo snickered. Such fatherly devotion.

"My Underworld," Hades corrected. "And we need to get a few things straight. For starters, this is my gig, and we play by my rules. Don't forget that I'm the one who invited you to this little party, and I can just as easily send both of you back."

"And for what purpose have I been summoned to your 'little party'?" Sephiroth asked, as cool as ever, apparently unperturbed by his abrupt change of scenery, his proximity to his despised father, or his state of complete undress. He did, however, cast a curious glance downward; he appeared to have sprouted another, rather oddly placed, set of wings.

Mim was practically drooling.

"You're fogging up the mirror, you stupid fairy," Maleficent barked, but quickly returned her attention to the scene playing out from the past. She didn't want to miss any critical details.

Mim wasn't listening to her, anyway. He was far too busy admiring Sephiroth's critical details.

"Your father just needs a small sample of your blood, I believe," Hades was saying to Sephiroth. "And in payment for restoring your body, I will require one tiny, trivial task."

"And what might that be?"

"I need a small thorn removed from my side."

"Why would you require my assistance with that? Are you not the God of the Underworld?" Sephiroth's voice was like dark chocolate: smooth and rich with an sharp bite and a slightly bitter aftertaste.

"Of course I am!" Hades snapped, his hair once again bursting into flames at Sephiroth's lack of proper deference. Damn bastard was as arrogant as his father. Still ... he could prove to be quite useful, so Hades checked his temper, doused the flames on his head and continued in a more appeasing manner. "It's complicated." He chuckled. "This isn't just any old thorn."

Sephiroth raised a slender, silver brow.

"You see, this particular thorn just happens to be my brother's son. Surely, you can see how my direct involvement in his demise could get a little sticky... Yet none of the combatants I've pitted against him have been able to rid me of this nuisance. He is the son of a god, after all. Still, that shouldn't be a problem for you, am I right?"

Sephiroth pondered Hades' proposal in silence for a moment and then turned his back on the god with a dismissive, "No thanks." Mim bit back a moan at the enticing new visual angle.

"No thanks?" Hades screamed at Sephiroth's back, re-igniting all the dying embers in his hair. "What do you mean, no thanks?"

"I am not so foolish as to place myself in the middle of a feud between two gods." Sephiroth answered, turning back to face Hades. "There's nothing in it for me."

"Nothing in it for you? Why you ungrateful little– Your fully restored body means nothing?"

"On the contrary, it means a great deal, but I can restore my body on my own."

"Right," Hades scoffed, "in maybe a decade or twenty. Why would you want to waste all that time when I can give it to you right now?"

"To what purpose?" Sephiroth responded. "Of what benefit would my body be to me if it were only to do your bidding?"

"It wouldn't only be to do my bidding!" Hades said. "You'd have the run of the whole joint! You'd be free to come and go as you please, with all the fine wine and women you can handle!"

Without so much as twitching a muscle, Sephiroth somehow managed to convey his utter contempt.

"Fine then, brandy and boys ... or vodka and goats! Or whatever it is that tickles your fancy!" Hades threw up his hands.

"The freedom to come and go as I please in this pitiful place isn't much of an incentive," Sephiroth answered, not even making an attempt to hide the disdain in his eyes. "Even with unlimited access to your cellar and your harem."

Hades forced himself to hold back his rising ire at the arrogant prick; he couldn't afford to lose this battle with Sephiroth if he wanted to win the war with Maleficent. "I could teach you to use the Corridors of Darkness," he offered. "Then you could travel to other worlds to do as you please." After all, what did he care if Sephiroth created a bit of havoc here and there in the universe? Just meant more souls in the pot for the army he'd be brewing.

Sephiroth once again took his sweet time in considering Hades' offer before finally giving his answer. "That is indeed a more equitable exchange for the gift of my cells, still I will not entangle myself in your personal vendetta. However ... there is another way we might yet reach a deal. There is one who would suit your purpose well – the perfect puppet for–"

"Whoa, whoa, whoa now, Platinum Boy! Bringing you here was a stretch, but Strife isn't even in the Lifestream!"

"Then you may return me to Lifestream, and I will bide my time until my body is my own."

"Whoa, whoa, whoa there! Just hold on to your naked butt for a minute!" Hades screeched. "Geez... Does it have to be this particular pretty boy? Surely, there must be someone else; someone who's actually dead?"

"Cloud Strife, or we have no deal."

"Look here, Hi-Ho-Silver, like I already said; if it's just someone to warm your bed at night, I can supply you with top notch companions from all corners of the universe. No matter your preference, I can provide it – from dark and exotic to fair and delicate or small and hairy – you name it; you got it! I can get you all the blue-eyed blonds you want! Or is there some other reason it has to be–"

"My business with Strife is mine alone," Sephiroth interrupted coldly, but there was fire burning in his eyes that hadn't been there before.

"And what makes you so sure that our spiky-haired hero will agree to dirty his hands?"

"He will do as I command," Sephiroth insisted. "For this deed and this deed only, I will allow you the use of his service, but never forget that he belongs to me. And no one," he stressed, leveling a pointed look, first at Hojo and then at Hades, "may lay so much as a finger on him without my express permission. He is mine."

"All right, all right, I get it! He's yours. But you're going to have to go get him." Hades pointed a long blue finger at Sephiroth. "If the higher-ups were to catch me interfering with the living, the jig would be up for us all."

"Then I suppose you had better instruct me in the use of these corridors." A sinister smile washed across the marble surface of Sephiroth's face, painting it with a singular creepiness; he was back in his body, stronger than ever, with the means to travel anywhere in the universe and Cloud in his clutches. This was turning out to be quite a splendid day, perfect in every– "And ... a wing," he added as an afterthought, "a matching wing for Cloud."

"The missing mate to yours?" Hades snickered. "How touching. Who would ever have guessed that the great General Sephiroth had such a sentimental side."

"Consider it the seal on our agreement," Sephiroth answered.

"One wing coming right up," Hades agreed, "but I don't do feathers." And with that the devil's deal was done. It galled him to let the pompous ass and his arrogant father think they had gotten the better of him, but once he had his army of Heartless, they would all see who had the last laugh.

Watching silently from the sidelines, a sinister smile spread across Hojo's face. He would build an unstoppable army of Heartless for Hades. An unstoppable army that would be carrying his son's own S-cells.

۵۵۵۵۵

"Come Diablo," Maleficent said, turning her back to the mirror. "I think it's time we paid a little visit to our dear friend Hades."

The Underworld faded into the past, and the present-day coliseum flickered in and out of view as Mim once again adjusted the mirror's controls. His attention was captured by a sight that instantly piqued his curiosity, and he quickly brought the image on the mirror into sharp focus. "You might want to take a look at this first," he said to Maleficent's departing back. "While a visit with Hades could be enlightening, no doubt, it might be more entertaining to let this play out."

Maleficent wheeled around to reprimand Mim for interrupting her with insignificant distractions, but stopped short when she saw the scene on the mirror. Why, yes indeed, this could prove to be quite entertaining, as well as productive, and if things played out the way she suspected they might, she wouldn't even have to lift a bony finger.

Sora's Traverse Town friend and his feisty ninja sidekick had just walked through the coliseum's massive front gate, accompanied by none other than Sephiroth's pretty puppet himself.


Author's Note:

First of all, I would like to apologize for the delay in updating; I never meant to leave you hanging for so long. And second, I wanted to give everyone a heads-up that the situation is unlikely to improve in the foreseeable future.

I have recently taken on two large commitments – the first, voluntarily, for our local animal shelter, followed by a second, not so voluntary one for work – and they have left me with little time for writing. That said, I would like to reassure everyone that the story has not been, nor will be, abandoned. In fact, I already have a number of other chapters mostly written. Unfortunately, none of them happen to be the next chapter. Still, I will try my best to get it up in a more timely fashion.

And last, but definitely not least, thank you for reading. I hope you'll stick with me.