4. Peace and Quiet
As Roman stormed into the Hotlands laboratory, the first words out of his mouth were "We need to talk."
Yzma looked up from where she was welding metal together, a heavy mask over her face. She lifted this mask in order to look Roman in the eye. "I'll ask you not to smoke while I'm working," she told him briskly.
"So," Roman began, "since you poisoned the food on your first day – "
"You're blaming ME?" Yzma practically screeched.
"Okay, let me rephrase," Roman sighed. "When I first met Archie, he was trying to convince Hades he shouldn't have been dead because he couldn't have died the way he did. Do you wanna take a guess how he died?"
Yzma just stared dumbfoundedly.
"Milk allergy," Roman clarified. "I'd been wondering which one of them was wrong. And now I know."
"Well, why didn't he say anything?" Yzma asked.
"Because if he's anything like me," Roman told her, "he'd rather die than let anyone know he has a weakness like that. Especially because back where he came from, cheese was some sort of big deal with the government and rich people."
"And what makes you think he's so much like you?"
"He knows how to work a crowd, he tried to crush an annoying kid with a modified Paladin, and he's an artist with an eyeliner pencil," Roman reminded Yzma. "He's like me."
"And why do you care so much about him, anyway?"
Roman shrugged. "Maybe I like that he's the only other guy I know who I saw in action arguing with death. That takes guts. And maybe, just maybe, this team, unlike my last one, is less of my co-workers and more of my…" He stumbled on the word. "F. Fffff. Frrrrrr…"
"Friends," Yzma supplied.
"That just sounds WEIRD," Roman told her with a shudder. "It's only a theory, by the way. Since we only JUST assembled. But let me just say that this is the first time in a long time I haven't wanted to punch every single member of my team but one in the face."
"I'll take that as a compliment." Yzma looked down to her creation to realize that it was finished; she stripped off her mask and set it off to the side. "There! My weapon is complete!" It had cooled down enough that she could pick it up by the grip, and so she did, displaying an apparatus that looked like a trumpet without the bell.
"So what's that?" Roman asked.
"I based the design on an atlatl," Yzma told him.
"And what's it do?" Roman held up a hand. "No, wait. Don't tell me. It atls atls."
"Ha! Humorous." Yzma plucked a metal arrow – albeit one without fletching – from the table. As she touched it, something clicked, and the arrow extended to the length of a spear as she loaded it into the atlatl. She turned to the wall, flicking her wrist and pressing a button on the atlatl. The projectile within was launched directly into the wall, embedding itself halfway deep. "Perfect," Yzma purred.
"I am NOT fixing that hole in the wall," Roman pointed out.
"Neither am I," Yzma replied. "I suppose we just have a hole in the wall now."
"It is one SWEET weapon, if I do say so myself," Roman complimented. "Soooooo…as far as dinner goes…"
"Dairy is off the menu."
"All I ask."
...
"I don't understand," Aghoul told Wuya as they made their way down to the laboratory. "Why can't Mozenrath just resurrect you?"
"Because I'm not that kind of spirit!" Wuya explained. "I'm not actually dead. That's why I need Yzma and her potions instead."
"You're not DEAD?" Aghoul gaped. "But you're a ghost!"
"Spirit."
"Were you EVER dead?"
"No."
Aghoul folded his arms, giving a huff. "Lucky for you. Do you know how long I've spent trying to claw my way out of the Netherworld?"
"Ohhhhhh, very lucky," Wuya sassed. "Lucky that I got to spend fifteen hundred years inside a puzzle box without even a deck of cards."
"…I'll admit that doesn't sound appetizing," Aghoul relented. "Well, then. You must be grateful Mozenrath came along to let you out."
"Ohhhh, I am," Wuya confirmed. "Especially because he has such a fervor for evil. Hopefully he won't turn out to be as much of a disappointment as the last people to let me out of the box."
"What happened to them?"
"A series of betrayals."
"Pardon," Aghoul asked, "but how can we be sure you won't betray us?"
"You can't," Wuya told him. "You just have to hope nothing better comes along for me."
"Fair enough."
They entered the lab to see Roman and Yzma in conversation. Aghoul and Wuya briefly looked to where the spearlike dart was embedded in the wall before deciding it was better not to ask. "Do you have it?" Wuya asked.
Yzma nodded. "One moment." She opened a nearby refrigerator. She had wanted to present the pink potion in a crystal vial with an elaborate stopper, but as Wuya had to soak in it, she'd been forced to put it in a mixing bowl and cover it unceremoniously with plastic wrap. Setting the bowl on the counter, Yzma unceremoniously uncovered it from the plastic wrap before announcing, "It's all yours."
"YES!" Wuya flitted down to the bowl to lower herself into the potion with a relaxed "Ahhhhhhhhhhhh." Her ghostly form absorbed the potion as she did, and her outline began to glow. When she realized she was transforming, she levitated out of the bowl, hovering over the counter. Her smoke expanded and warped, then solidified and took on new colors. Fully human, she was a woman of average height, with a waterfall of red hair cascading down her back. She was clothed in a gown of black. "MUCH better," she sighed; her voice was now deeper.
If Aghoul's heart still beat, it would have been thumping ferociously. "You didn't let on that you were so…ATTRACTIVE," he gushed. "I don't suppose a woman like you would be in want of a husband, would you?"
"You couldn't handle me and you know it," Wuya told him sternly.
"Oooooh, shot DOWN!" Roman jeered.
Aghoul sighed. "What's a man to do when Maleficent's thrown his other three wives in a dungeon?"
"THREE?" Yzma said in disbelief.
"I don't see you rushing off to rescue them," Wuya pointed out, clambering off the counter.
Aghoul shrugged. "What can she do to them? They're already dead."
"If that's a requirement for being the fourth," Wuya told him, "the answer just went from 'no' to 'heck no.'"
...
The untranslatable pages from the Vault of the Huntsclan had been spread out across the floor of the throne room, resting atop the petals of the myriad golden flowers. Mozenrath arranged stacks of books around them, as well as crystals and all manner of writing utensils. "I have a feeling there's something of interest in these pages," Mozenrath explained to the only other person in the room.
"Perhaps you can discern what we could not," the Huntsman replied.
"I'm going to be devoting my full attention to these pages," Mozenrath went on. "I don't intend to leave this room until I've figured out what they mean."
"Not even to eat or to sleep?"
"I'll take care of that on my own time. In the meantime, I'm going to need absolute peace and quiet. No interruptions. I trust you can pass that message on to the rest of the group."
"Absolutely," the Huntsman vowed. "You shall not be disturbed."
"And one more thing," Mozenrath went on. "Someone's going to need to feed Xerxes and clean out his litter. I'm assigning that task to you. He is, of course, a magical creature, but I'm forbidding you from harming him right now. He's a magical creature I need around."
"And what purpose does he serve, exactly?" the Huntsman asked.
"When I look at him, I'm reminded that no matter how bad things get, at least I'm not him," Mozenrath answered, and the Huntsman wasn't sure if he was joking or not. "I'd better find him alive and well taken care of."
"He will be."
The Huntsman left with a sense of finality, closing the heavy doors upon an already hard at work Mozenrath. The young sorcerer intended to make himself practically dead to the world; to him, the entire multiverse now consisted of these pages and only these pages.
...
Just down the hall from the throne room, Mozenrath had converted one of the small bedrooms into a chamber just for Xerxes alone. It had been outfitted with all the comforts an eel could want, which basically consisted of leaving the human-sized bed in it and adding a self-refreshing water fountain. The Huntsman, well aware that eel feeding time was approaching, eased open the door to this room only to find it occupied by another of the human occupants of the castle. Snatcher, seated upon the bed, idly threw a dog treat into the air for Xerxes to catch.
"I see you've already tended to this creature," the Huntsman observed, casting his gaze about the room. The litter box Mozenrath had mentioned was cleaned out.
"That I have," Snatcher confirmed.
"Good," the Huntsman sighed. "I do not understand the attachment Mozenrath has to this…"
Xerxes flashed the Huntsman a lopsided grin.
"…beast," the Huntsman concluded. "Or, for that matter, your attachment to it."
"Well, I, er…" Snatcher was hesitant to explain before realizing he had more or less nothing to lose by it. "I'd had a pet when I was a much younger man. A rat my parents caught in the middle of the tailor's shop. They were to kill it before I took it into my own hands. I'd like to think I gave that creature the better years of its life. Now, you…I'm to understand you've always been more concerned with the destruction of creatures than their care."
"That is correct," the Huntsman confirmed.
"And to what purpose?"
"It is its own purpose," the Huntsman insisted. "Dragons are a menace that must be eliminated from this and all worlds. It is the sworn duty of the Huntsclan to keep the worlds from falling into disrepair at the hands of such beasts."
"Of course." Snatcher nodded. "I've never known a dragon myself, but I've known my fair share of subhuman creatures. They lack aspiration. They lack will. They lack everything a man has and needs to become truly great."
"You've hunted yourself, haven't you?" the Huntsman realized.
"Trolls," Snatcher confirmed. "Nasty little creatures, but quite useful. The best little builders to be found in my world. For ten years, I collected them in order to put them to work producing machines for my purposes, then I traded their deaths for quite a lot of power. Or I would have, were I not FOILED…" He gritted his teeth momentarily.
"Trolls are generally docile," the Huntsman pointed out. "The smaller variety hardly ever fights back."
"Hardly," Snatcher emphasized. "But apparently, they will change their nature if and when it suits them. And it doesn't help one bit that they had the protection of a boy who didn't know when to keep his nose out of things."
"Now I understand," the Huntsman replied. "The creatures of my world were protected by dragons who could take human form. The American Dragon in particular was not only a constant source of humiliation, but an annoyance as well. Would that these protectors could see that their efforts are futile…"
But he couldn't finish the statement, as Snatcher and the Huntsman were both testaments to the fact that the actions of Eggs and Jake Long weren't in vain after all.
"…I shall leave the eel in your care," the Huntsman decided. "I'd much rather not deal with it if I don't have to."
...
The heart of the castle was connected by a long golden hall with wide arched widows and thick, imposing columns. It was from here that pathways branched off to everyone's quarters. As Yzma, Aghoul, Wuya, and Roman left the lab, they were joined here by Mim, and decided to take a moment to relax.
"I'm not sure how much longer I can take it," Yzma sighed. "Only one dress to speak of, and one pair of shoes! It's practically inhuman to live this way!"
"You're going to make me shoplift frilly dresses for you, aren't you?" Roman sighed.
"And do you have a problem with that?" Yzma snapped.
"Just leave me your measurements," Roman sighed.
"I might have a better way," Wuya suggested. "After all, I currently have no limitations on my power. What clothing do you absolutely dream of?"
"I'm in a bit of a mood for pink," Yzma admitted. "With plenty of sparkle."
"Done." Wuya flicked a hand in Yzma's direction. Yzma was enveloped in bright light, and soon she found herself clothed in a long, shimmering gown of bright pink. A feathered headdress and gem-studded stilettos finished it off.
"How did you DO that?" Yzma gasped in awe, wishing she had a mirror so she could look at how gorgeous she now was.
Wuya chuckled. "You have no idea of the things I can do. I might very well be the most powerful of you all."
"You might well WHAT?" Mim's anger flared up.
"Ohhh, are you about to defend Mozenrath as being more powerful than me?" Wuya jeered.
"No!" Mim asserted. "I'm about to defend MYSELF as being more powerful than you!"
"Well, that's a laugh," Wuya remarked. "They kept on putting me in that puzzle box for a good reason, you know."
"But they were still able to catch you and put you in it," Mim pointed out, arms folded. "They were never able to lay a FINGER on me."
"Shall we put our powers to the test, then, Mim?" Wuya challenged.
"A wizard's duel!" Mim agreed.
"Not here, you won't." The voice came from further down the hall, and the group turned to see the Huntsman and Snatcher approaching. "Mozenrath has required quiet for his work," the Huntsman went on. "If you're about to begin a duel, you won't do it here."
"We'll just have to resolve this later," Wuya decided. "But I look forward to kicking your butt, Madam Mim." She chuckled.
"Well, then, I'm afraid you're just going to have to be disappointed," Mim informed her.
"In the meantime," Yzma asked, "Wuya, COULD you bring in a mirror?"
Wuya merely snapped her fingers, and a full-length mirror appeared where Yzma could admire herself in it. "Hmm…" She thought it over. "It's almost perfect, but the headdress could use some tweaking. Perhaps if it were purple…"
"Easily fixed," Wuya reassured Yzma, flicking a hand and switching out the headdress for an arrangement of lavender feathers.
"Or perhaps blue," Yzma suggested. "A sort of robin's egg color."
Wuya swapped the headdress out as Yzma had wished.
"Perhaps the feathers are the wrong direction," Yzma decided. "Try a pink beret."
As Wuya switched out the headgear yet again, Snatcher groaned, "Will you JUST go back to the pink feathers? Everything else is jarring against that – "
He stopped when he noticed everyone else staring at him. "And what's all this about?" he asked of the group at large.
"How do YOU know so much about women's fashion?" Wuya asked.
"Having to pose as a fashion forward seductress in order to further my goals of deception left me with quite a bit of knowledge in that department," Snatcher explained. "Not to mention growing up the son of the town tailor and dressmaker."
"Seriously, he makes one HOT woman," Roman pointed out.
"Though it's…only for the purposes of deception," Snatcher quickly covered. "The majority of the time, I couldn't care less."
"Why do I get the feeling that's not quite true?" Wuya pressed.
"I am a man among men," Snatcher asserted through gritted teeth. "And if you're implying – "
"It doesn't MATTER!" Yzma broke in. "Wearing dresses for evil schemes, wearing dresses for things that aren't evil schemes, I don't care! And none of us SHOULD care! But if you have an opinion to weigh in on this hat, then OUT WITH IT!"
"It doesn't matter," Snatcher mocked, looking around the group…who all appeared to be largely nonchalant, merely awaiting his answer rather than stringing themselves out from tenterhooks to snap at the first opportunity to mock him. It then occurred to him that he was far away from the jeering judgments of his hometown. Perhaps, just perhaps, here was a place he could risk acknowledging the freedoms he enjoyed with his alternate persona. "Though the matter may be…somewhat of a hobby as well as a tool of deception."
"And the hat?" Yzma pressed.
"The pink feathers were the ONLY proper choice."
Wuya replaced the feathers on Yzma's head, and Yzma had to admit they were indeed the most fitting.
"If anyone else needs an outfit switched," Wuya offered, I'm feeling generous."
Snatcher was then awash with relief, for this seemed to be where the conversation regarding him and women's couture started and ended. Truly, these people were of a different caliber than the ones he had known.
"I never saw the point in all this," Mim sighed. "Why women…" She glanced over at Snatcher. "And, yes, men always see the need to spend all day fussing in front of a mirror. You're not going to catch me in one of those frilly dresses! Or with silly paint all over my face!"
Yzma, Wuya, and Snatcher spoke in unison: "Your loss."
"I prefer to focus on the important things in life," Mim asserted. "Like what methods of cruel and unusual punishment are the most absolute fun!"
"Now, that's something I like to hear!" Aghoul chimed in.
"Or the most entertaining ways to watch people die!" Mim went on. "Or which pestilence is the most destructive, or what should be set on fire, or how to humiliate your enemies…"
"You're a woman after my own heart, Madam Mim," Aghoul replied. "…Say. You wouldn't happen to be…single, would you?"
"He's married," Yzma warned.
"Three times over," Wuya added.
"I'm not interested in being anybody's wife!" Mim insisted. "Though you are MOST flattering. So…what method of slow death is YOUR favorite?"
"Well, when it comes to SLOW deaths, I do enjoy witnessing a good famine," Aghoul told her. "But overall, you can't beat a good iron maiden! Can we get one of those in this castle?"
"We should put in a formal request for a full torture chamber!" Mim cackled.
"That would be useful," Yzma agreed. "Though what this place could really use is a dance hall."
"Why would we need a dance hall?" the Huntsman asked in exasperation.
"To relax and let off steam," Yzma answered.
"Wouldn't do if we didn't have an outlet for our more creative expressions," Snatcher added, falling into line behind Yzma to literally back up her argument to the Huntsman.
"I've only just gotten a human body back," Wuya added, moving next to Snatcher. "It would be a pity if I couldn't put it to its full potential on the dance floor."
The Huntsman turned to Mim and Aghoul. "Surely you two see this as a frivolity."
"Oh, not at all!" Mim asserted. "I think a dance hall sounds highly entertaining!"
"I used to dance in my younger days," Aghoul added. "I was always the unlife of the party! Unlike you, Huntsman."
"We must focus on our goals of conquest," the Huntsman asserted. "A dance hall will only distract us, not further our purpose!"
"Well, you're a real KILLjoy," Aghoul teased.
The Huntsman took two steps forward to pick Aghoul up by the front of his robes; "IS YOUR ENTIRE EXISTENCE TO MAKE PUNS ABOUT DEATH?"
"It's a bit of a specialty," Aghoul argued, nonplussed.
There was a crack of thunder, and the Huntsman felt an agonizing jolt of magic run through both his hands. He immediately dropped Aghoul, shaking off the pain.
"And DON'T pick him up like that again!" Mim huffed.
Aghoul, realizing she'd struck the Huntsman's hands in order to rescue him, gave her a playful bow. "I thank you, my lady!"
Mim curtsied in return.
"You know…" Roman observed. "We've actually already got a pretty good dance hall right here. It just needs a few tweaks. Like, say, better lighting."
"You mean like this?" Wuya cast her magic about the room, and suddenly it was much darker, the light from the windows obscured by heavy tarps; colorful lights and strobes flashed in from every angle.
"Nice!" Roman complimented.
"I don't think this is at ALL a good idea," the Huntsman broke in.
"And how about some tunes?" Roman suggested.
At Wuya's behest, a jaunty tune soon boomed throughout the room. Wuya fired off a proud smirk in Mim's direction.
"Oh, just because you can put up decorations and play music, that suddenly makes you better than me," Mim huffed.
"And what about one of those corny disco balls?" Roman asked.
Much to his delight, Wuya soon had a reflective sphere spinning from the ceiling.
"If we're going to dance," Yzma began.
"Which we most certainly are NOT," the Huntsman growled.
"I'll need this gown to be more suited for it," Yzma concluded.
With another smug look at Mim, Wuya shortened up Yzma's skirt a bit and lowered her heels so that she wouldn't trip in the middle of her dance. "I can make your clothes more suitable for this, too," Wuya offered Mim.
"My clothes are just fine for dancing," Mim insisted.
"Suit yourself. And so will I." Wuya switched her black gown out for a silver number edged in fringe and sprayed with sequins.
"Regarding our recent conversation," Snatcher broke in, "Miss Wuya…if you WOULD be so kind, I might…"
"I think I have an idea." Wuya winked before sending a current of magic to envelop Snatcher. When it abated, it left him clothed in a flattering gown of soft blues and purples that intertwined, with puffed sleeves off the shoulders and a skirt that flowed from just under the knee in front to below the ankle behind; this was offset with a coiffed red wig, an expertly painted frieze of makeup, and shoes that were only slightly shorter in heel than Yzma.
"Why, thank you, darling," Snatcher told Yzma in his more effeminate voice.
"I demand you stop this all this INSTANT!" the Huntsman roared. "No doubt Mozenrath has heard the music by now! He gave express instructions NOT to be interrupted!"
"Stop being such a stiff!" Aghoul laughed as he took Mim's hand and twirled her onto the dance floor, beginning a fast-paced step.
"AND NO MORE OF THOSE PUNS!" the Huntsman bellowed.
...
Mozenrath believed he had cracked the first cypher on the pages. The language in them was more than just in archaic language; it was in code. Finally, he was starting to put together letter substitutions that made absolute sense.
That was when the bass line kicked in.
Mozenrath made a point to ignore it, setting an inked quill to a blank page to copy down the translation he'd just made. However, the more he wrote, the louder the music emanating from down below seemed to become.
His quill scratched against the page, leaving an unintended mark.
At last, he could stand it no longer. He threw down the quill, leaving an ink stain on the petals of one of the flowers. He stormed across the room to throw open the doors. He thought about teleporting, but figured his anger would show much more clearly if he stormed in on foot.
The scene he stormed in on left him speechless. The strobe lights ricocheted off the disco ball almost violently, throwing light around the otherwise dark hall that had once been known as Judgment Hall. The music, which was coming from absolutely nowhere, was loud enough that Mozenrath felt his own body vibrate with the beat. The room was divided in half. At one end, Mim and Aghoul clapped to the beat, cheering on Roman Torchwick. At the other, Yzma and Wuya clapped even harder, letting out whoops and hollers in support of Snatcher. As for Roman and Snatcher, they had engaged in a heated battle where the aim of each was to utterly out-dance the other. While Roman's moves were packed with energy, Snatcher moved with a graceful flow.
"You'll have to be faster than THAT to catch up with me, Monsieur Torchwick!" Snatcher taunted in his best feminine voice.
"Just give it up already, Frou Frou!" Roman called out to him. "You're losing, and you know it!"
"Will you BOTH STOP THIS MADNESS?" the Huntsman bellowed. "ALL YOU'VE DONE IS GET LOUDER AND MORE DISTRACTING! AND IT'S ONLY A MATTER OF TIME BEFORE YOU CATCH THE ATTENTION OF – "
Mozenrath cleared his throat loudly.
"MOZENRATH!" The Huntsman flinched. Roman and Snatcher halted midstep. Mim, Aghoul, Yzma, and Wuya had time for one last clap.
"WHAT." Mozenrath began. "ARE YOU – "
"WE CAN'T HEAR YOU!" Yzma yelled over the music.
"GET RID OF THAT NOISE!" Mozenrath demanded.
Wuya snapped her fingers, and the room was bathed in silence. The strobes went down; the natural light went back up.
"I believe I asked for peace and quiet," Mozenrath said calmly. Then his tone escalated: "Does this…seem like peace and quiet…TO YOU?"
"I've seen worse," Mim said offhandedly.
"I tried to stop them!" the Huntsman protested. "They wouldn't listen to me! I would have used something stronger than words but for the fact that I know you wanted them all alive at the end of the day."
"Tough talk," Wuya interjected. "You really think you could take on a witch at full power?"
"I've taken on FAR more magical things than YOU!" the Huntsman snapped.
"And I think you're bluffing," Wuya said coolly.
"Your dance party is OVER," Mozenrath stated. "If you all want to remain part of this operation, you will move OUT OF THIS HALL as soon as possible. And I expect NOT TO BE BOTHERED AGAIN."
"Come now, Mozenrath, don't be such a stiff about it!" Aghoul cajoled.
"You already used that one," Yzma pointed out.
"Don't you want to have a little FUN?" Aghoul continued.
"What I WANT," Mozenrath spelled out, "is to figure out the secret of those pages. Which, incidentally, is fun for me. Now get…out…of this hall."
"Party pooper," Wuya muttered under her breath as she turned to lead the way out of the hall.
As Mozenrath turned to head back to the throne room, Aghoul called after him, "I don't suppose now would be a good time to put in a bid for a torture room, would it?"
The glare Mozenrath shot him could have melted ice.
"Later, then," Aghoul resolved as he followed the motley group outside.
...
Down in the streets outside the castle, the Huntsman had set up several cloth and canvas dummies he'd been able to round up throughout the city. The previous occupants seemed to have been very fond of them. "The least we can do is put our skills to practical use," the Huntsman explained, arranging the dummies in groups. "We shall each practice using our own weapon or magical skill against them."
"Erm…Miss Wuya," Snatcher said in a hushed tone, "if you could provide a somewhat more…battle appropriate ensemble…"
"One of these days," Wuya told him, "you'll have to learn to dress yourself." Still, she put him back in the clothing he'd been wearing before she'd supplied the elaborate gown for their dance. While she was at it, she gave Yzma a striking purple pantsuit.
"This is absolutely perfect!" Yzma remarked as she twirled around in the new suit.
"You're welcome," Wuya replied with a smirk.
"Enough foolishness!" the Huntsman barked. "Get in line!"
He pointed his huntstaff, and Yzma, Wuya, Mim, Aghoul, Roman, and Snatcher fell into an orderly line, weapons brandished.
"On your mark," the Huntsman announced. "And…BEGIN." He turned and spun at a group of dummies, slashing their heads off.
Aghoul threw a skull-shaped bomb that he'd produced from nowhere, obliterating his targets entirely. Yzma reloaded dart after dart into her modified atlatl, spearing dummies through where their hearts would have been. Roman fired a few explosive blasts in the regular way before switching to trick shots, hooking a blast on the end of the Cudgel and sliding it behind his back before letting the energy fly. Snatcher efficiently fired bolt after bolt of lightning at the dummies, singing them all.
Mim shifted into the form of an eagle, swooping in from above to rip off the head of a dummy. Nearby, Wuya, seeing this, kicked a dummy down before catching it in a headlock and ripping off its canvas head. Mim transformed into a leopard, scratching out a dummy's chest. Wuya spin kicked a dummy into the air before blasting it with regular fireworks of magic.
"So you still think you're so great," Mim hissed – quite literally, as she'd taken on the form of a python and compressed another dummy.
"As a matter of fact, I do," Wuya confirmed, enveloping a dummy in an energy cage that collapsed in on it. "Why is it taking you so long to get the picture that I'm better than you?"
"BECAUSE YOU'RE NOT!" Mim, in the form of a water buffalo, impaled a dummy on her horns before launching it right at Wuya.
Wuya caught the dummy with magic in midair, turning it around and throwing it right back at Mim. Mim reverted to human form, pointing at the dummy; it combusted from the inside out before it could reach her.
"I believe we discussed a duel earlier," Wuya said stonily.
"It's the only way to settle this!" Mim stated with a nod.
Yzma lowered her weapon first. "What ARE they doing?"
"It looks like we're in for a show," Aghoul answered.
"It's technically still practice," Roman told the Huntsman, knowing already what he was thinking.
"All right," the Huntsman sighed. "I'll allow it."
"Last I checked, you weren't in charge of us anyway," Snatcher reminded him. "All you did was organize our current activity."
Wuya and Mim were arranging their duel up ahead, in the scrapped remains of destroyed dummies. "First, we have to set limitations," Mim announced. "Make the rules."
"Where's the fun in that?" Wuya asked. "I say no limits."
"You know what?" Mim replied. "I like the way you think! …For once. We'll pace it out on ten."
"That sounds fair," Wuya agreed.
The two women went back to back. "One!" they counted, each taking a step forward. "Two!"
At that moment, they both spun around and threw heavy blasts of energy at each other, each woman hoping to get the jump on her opponent. The two magics collided and exploded in a fiery column.
"This is already good!" Roman laughed.
Mim spun back out of the fray, twirling to a halt to get a look across the square. Wuya flipped through the air, landing on one foot before staring Mim directly in the eye. The Heylin witch extended a hand, curling her fingers in a beckon.
"OHHHHH, YOU ASKED FOR IT!" Mim transformed into a rhinoceros, charging Wuya full speed. Wuya waited until the last minute to make another gravity-defying leap, this time landing so hard that her foot displaced several stones in the road. Mim went crashing right into the lower level of a nearby building, putting a large hole in the wall.
Wuya spun to face Mim, telekinetically lifting three intact dummies and launching them at the other witch. With a flick of the hand, Mim summoned a broomstick from nowhere, leaping upon it to fly around the path of each dummy. Balancing on the stick by the soles of her feet, she flew directly toward Wuya, fingers sparking with magic.
Wuya teleported out of Mim's way, reappearing at the far end of the square, where she raised her hands out over the cobblestone. Meanwhile, Mim's next shot of magic went wild, and another wall fell victim to her damage. Wuya summoned up two golems of stone from the street itself, creating two sizeable potholes in the process. The golems rushed Mim only to find themselves running at a dragon rather than a human sorceress. Mim spun around once, her tail smashing into both golems and sending their bits flying, pockmarking every wall.
Yzma, Aghoul, Snatcher, Roman, and the Huntsman had by this time run for cover, taking refuge inside a nearby shop.
"You realize this isn't safe," Yzma pointed out.
"NOWHERE'S safe!" Roman reminded her.
"At least it's the next best thing to front row seats!" Aghoul gestured out the window to where a clear view was to be had of the battle. As he did so, a large rock, the forearm of one of the golems, came crashing through the window, and if Snatcher hadn't quickly forced Roman to the floor, the airborne stone would have left a bloody mess where the gunner's head had been.
The dragon was a large target, and so Wuya resorted to the strategy of throwing lightning bolts. Mim responded in kind by transforming into a housecat, easily able to dodge each bolt as she rushed toward Wuya. When she reached her destination, Mim enlarged into a panther, lunging. Wuya sidestepped her with incredible grace. As soon as Mim hit the ground, Wuya clapped her hands, and a ring of green flame flickered into being around the magenta cat. Mim reverted to human form then, reaching right out to pluck the flames with her bare hands, turning to lob them at Wuya like baseballs. Wuya stamped the ground, and the stone rocketed up into a protective wall in front of her; the flames bounced right off. Mim, seeing an opportunity, took the form of the rhinoceros once more, barreling right through the stone and smashing it. Wuya was no longer there. The Heylin witch watched from atop a skyscraper, awaiting her time to strike. Once Mim was in the shadow of the skyscraper, Wuya sent the whole building toppling down.
"Eh…?" Mim looked up in shock to see tons and tons of stone headed directly downward to her location.
As the massive building hit the street with enough force to shake the ground, Yzma sighed. "There goes Mim. Pity. I was growing attached to her."
"Aww, she was fun!" Roman moaned.
"Who else can I find around here to properly appreciate a good old-fashioned iron maiden?" Aghoul groaned.
"I don't believe she's down for the count just yet…" Snatcher theorized.
Wuya glided down to the pile of debris, smirking to herself. "I know you're smarter than that," she called out.
"And you'd be RIGHT!" Mim laughed, transforming from a flying beetle back to her human form across the square.
"SHE'S ALIVE!" Aghoul cried in joy.
Gritting her teeth, Wuya gathered up as much magic as she could muster, running toward Mim at high speed. Mim had the same idea, rushing Wuya with both hands full of energy. Halfway toward each other, they got ready to launch.
They came to an abrupt halt when Mozenrath appeared directly between the two of them, holding his hands out, palms up, to each. If his glare before was killer, now it was downright serial murderous. "What part," he seethed, "of PEACE AND QUIET…DON'T YOU UNDERSTAND?"
Wuya and Mim immediately disposed of their charged-up magic…by throwing it aside, knocking a smaller building to the ground.
"Not to mention that you're DESTROYING MY ONLY KINGDOM!" Mozenrath yelled.
As Yzma, Aghoul, Snatcher, Roman, and the Huntsman crept out of hiding, Mozenrath pointed at the Huntsman. "I suppose YOU'RE going to claim you tried to stop this too!"
"Actually, the entire target practice setup was his idea," Snatcher snitched. "Not to mention he endorsed this duel as a…test of skill."
"I did not realize – " the Huntsman sputtered.
"Get…out…of New Home," Mozenrath growled. "I don't care where you go. For all I care, you can go to Snowdin and have a snowball fight. But until I am finished with these pages, I don't want to hear one more crash, thunderclap, or inappropriately timed musical number out of ANY OF YOU! DO YOU UNDERSTAND ME?"
"Understood," the other seven grumbled in unison.
Gritting his teeth so hard he almost worried for them cracking, Mozenrath returned to the throne room in a flash of blue.
Wuya looked guiltily to Mim. "You really WERE impressive," she admitted.
"And you really showed your stuff!" Mim replied cheerily. "Maybe you ARE all that."
"I shouldn't have underestimated you either," Wuya admitted. "This looks like the beginning of a BEAUTIFULLY evil partnership!"
Then the entire group finally got moving as Mozenrath had ordered, hoping to avoid any further rage from him.
...
Finally, Mozenrath was able to spend hours in peace and quiet. He rushed from this book to that, peering at letters through prisms, holding papers up to mirrors and transcribing his findings onto a new page. With every iteration, the words seemed to become that much clearer, until at long last, Mozenrath realized he was writing a paragraph that made absolute sense. He kept going, and the entire translation came down on the page coherently. Finally, he could see its secrets! And what a secret those pages had held! As he read it over, he could hardly believe what he'd discovered.
It had to be shared immediately. But first, he had to figure out where his overly excitable faction had gone.
It took him a couple teleportations, but eventually, he appeared in Snowdin Town, a rather small settlement with sparse buildings where for whatever reason, there always seemed to be a fresh layer of snow on the ground. There, he was able to spot Roman and Snatcher right away; they were busy packing snowballs and stacking them up from behind a massive wall of the white precipitation.
"I've finally translated the pages!" Mozenrath announced. "And you won't believe…what's…" It dawned on him. "You're…actually having a snowball fight, aren't you?"
"It's not a SNOWBALL FIGHT," Roman groaned.
"It's a tactical battle simulation," Snatcher clarified. "Upon your suggestion, we realized this was perhaps the best way to test our skills of athleticism and deception with minimal risk of gravely harming one another."
"It's a snowball fight," Mozenrath reiterated.
"Auuugh, so what if it is?" Roman moaned. "You're standing in the middle of Fort RedHatBlackHat. If anything, you're the enemy. We could have blasted you five times over by now. You would be DEAD."
"You realize you're in range of each other," Mozenrath pointed out.
"We've forged an alliance," Snatcher explained. "Turning on one another would be bad form. Miss Wuya already got the jump on Mr. Aghoul by claiming she was on his side and waiting for his back to turn."
"But then we got the jump on HER by cornering her from BOTH sides," Roman recalled with a chuckle. "A snowball fight full of magic users, and we haven't died ONCE."
"That's the other rule," Snatcher quickly explained. "A hit from a snowball equates to one from an actual weapon. Taking snow to the leg is tantamount to losing it. Taking one to the vitals is equivalent to dying. Once you've died, you simply start fresh. The Huntsman, as we speak, is alive, but reduced to one leg."
"He agreed to this?" Mozenrath was skeptical.
"It's a tactical battle simulation!" Roman reminded Mozenrath. "Of course he agreed to it! I think he wanted an excuse to hit us all with something anyway!"
"IT'S A SNOWBALL FIGHT!" Mozenrath repeated.
"Anyhow, what were you saying about those pages?" Snatcher asked Mozenrath.
"Well…" Mozenrath began to explain.
At that moment, as the three were distracted, the other five mobilized, having forged a temporary alliance to bring down Fort RedHatBlackHat. Wuya took her place on a rooftop next to Mim, looking down from above. Yzma and the Huntsman hid around the corner. Aghoul had covered himself with snow as strategic camouflage. All five pairs of eyes widened when they saw a much more tempting target – Mozenrath himself – appear in the midst of the "fort."
"We shouldn't," the Huntsman cautioned Yzma.
"But we will," Yzma whispered back.
All readied their snow to open fire upon Mozenrath.
"The pages were encrypted incredibly well," Mozenrath explained. "I have to admit that a bit of it was just pure luck. But I found out what they hold. And it just so happens to be a spell that would allow us to become masters of – "
At the exact moment that Wuya and Mim leapt down to ground level, Yzma and the Huntsman revealed themselves, and Aghoul rolled out of his camouflage, Mozenrath turned around and waved his gauntlet so that a veritable tidal wave of snow rose up and collapsed on all five of them. Once it settled, their stunned heads popped out of the snowbank one by one. Mozenrath let loose laughing at the sight.
"I suppose this is why he's our leader," Yzma sighed.
Without turning back around to look at the remaining duo, Mozenrath flicked his wrist. Roman and Snatcher had each picked up snowballs, but dropped them immediately once the snow had swirled up around them to cover them both up to the neck.
"Now that I have your attention," Mozenrath went on, "I believe I've discovered the key to our domination of the entire multiverse!"