A/N: General update – the AU timeline for this fic is post-Kingdom Hearts: Dream Drop Distance, post-RWBY volume 3, post-Undertale pacifist run. More to come as other fandoms get involved.
14. Mirror Mirror
Once again, Mozernath, Wuya, Mim, and Aghoul found themselves on the outskirts of town in Radiant Garden. "All right," Wuya sighed, "let's hear your brilliant plan of how you're going to get us through this town without us being recognized."
"Well, let me start by asking Mim a question," Mozenrath supplied. "Out of the four people we almost killed in the castle's computer room, which of us is most like which of them?"
"Hmmmmm…" Mim thought it over. "Well, Wuya is the sensible one, like Leon."
"And Leon was the tall and dashing brunette, or the gruff blond?" Mozenrath asked.
"Brunette," Mim responded. "Though I think our definition of 'dashing' is different."
Mozenrath cast his hand out toward Wuya, and Wuya took on a glamour of Leon's appearance. She flinched, turning a 360 and taking a good look at herself. "Impressive," she remarked, and it was in Leon's voice.
"Next," Mozenrath commanded Mim.
"Well, I always thought Yuffie – that one's the ninja - was a little bit like me!" Mim contributed eagerly. As soon as she finished the sentence, she was gifted with the glamour of Yuffie's appearance. "Hmmm…then there's Cid. I suppose Aghoul shares his rugged manliness."
"That's another term where we have starkly different definitions," Mozenrath sighed as he cast a glamour of Cid Highwind over Aghoul. "And I suppose that leaves…" In a flash, he took on the appearance of Aerith Gainsborough. "Perfect. Now, 'Yuffie,' if you would lead the way to where Cid keeps his gummi ships locked up…"
"Right this way!" Mim bounded ahead, and the others followed.
As they entered the main square of Radiant Garden, their disguises worked exactly as Mozenrath had expected. A brunette woman in black standing in line for the local accessory shop believed she recognized her four friends and turned to wave at them; the four glamoured mages waved back so as to keep up appearances. "Hey, everyone!" Tifa Lockhart greeted. "Great day, isn't it?"
"No," Mim huffed. "The sun's out. It's NEVER a great day when the SUN is out!" After receiving an elbow to the side from Mozenrath, she changed her tune: "Oh, you know I'm just kidding! Lovely weather, lovely day!"
"O…kay…" Tifa found the response a little odd, but shrugged it off.
Even, in the meantime, had decided to take up Axel's offer and scour the town for clues as to Maleficent's dealings after all. At least it was something to do, and it was something he could do alone with minimal interruption. When he first lay eyes on what appeared to be Leon, Yuffie, Aerith, and Cid, he wondered how they'd gotten into the town square so quickly from the castle. Then the Darkness radiating from all four of them hit him like a tidal wave. He'd always had a sense for the Darkness a soul carried around with it; he'd been able to tell just by looking at the boy Ventus that there wasn't a scrap of it in his heart. And he knew quite well that Leon, Yuffie, Aerith, and Cid had never had this much Darkness within them before and could not possibly have accumulated it over the past half hour. There was only one explanation for this phenomenon: it wasn't the real Leon, Yuffie, Aerith, or Cid. It was four very Dark souls using a very clever glamour.
Perhaps this was the clue Even had been looking for. After all, Maleficent was famed for her Dark magic. Keeping a safe distance, he decided to trail the quartet of frauds and see where they led him.
...
Through a sequence of intricate pantomime, Neo had been able to relate to Snatcher, the Huntsman, and Yzma the tragic circumstance that had befallen Roman Torchwick.
"You're meaning to tell me," Snatcher said in shock, "that after his perfect track record, Torchwick's gone and got himself arrested?"
Neo nodded.
"Then we've got to get him back straightaway," Snatcher stated worriedly. "Whatever holding cell they've got him in, we've got to take it by storm and – "
"We can't do that," the Huntsman interrupted. "He isn't worth blowing our cover."
Snatcher disagreed to a point, but he also knew the importance of keeping a low profile. "Then we'll have to get him back some other way," he decided. "Perhaps the station will be less guarded by night. Miss Neopolitan, could you cause a diversion that would leave Torchwick unattended?"
Neo nodded fervently.
"And the electronic surveillance?" Snatcher continued.
Neo gave him a thumbs-up.
"And what do you plan to do then?" the Huntsman asked.
"Break into the station's holding cell without being observed, of course," Snatcher replied. "…Somehow."
The Huntsman sighed. "Take this," he offered, handing over the huntstaff. "It may or may not be enough to break through the police station's walls."
"But what about the newspapers?" Yzma reminded the others. "Roman was supposed to bring back our newspapers!"
"We shall have to secure them by alternate means," the Huntsman told her.
"Hmmmm…" Yzma thought it over. "A-HA! I've got it!"
"Given your track record, I doubt you have," the Huntsman replied.
"Humor me," Yzma commanded dryly.
As she expounded her plan, Snatcher, Neo, and the Huntsman had to admit that while it was indeed a ridiculous scheme, it was of the "so ridiculous, it just might work" variety. Thus they agreed to help her put together a new gown before nightfall: one of a black pinstripe pattern on white, with the occasional patch of gray.
...
While Cid conducted Restoration Committee work out of Merlin's house and the castle, he chose an entirely different locale to do gummi business. He needed a lot more space for that, and so he had purchased a large garage on the edge of town to accommodate the career that supported him the most fiscally. It was this garage that Mim led Mozenrath, Aghoul, and Wuya to.
"Don't go in just yet," Mozenrath warned. "If one of 'us' is already in there, we could run into some problems."
Mim, spying a window, skipped over to peer into the garage and see if Mozenrath's concern was founded. The only person inside was Cid himself, going to work on the engine of a small ship. Mim crept back to the group; "It's only Cid."
"You could just change my glamour to someone else," Aghoul volunteered. "After all, I never did quite think Cid captured my rugged manliness the way Mim thinks he does."
Mozenrath thought about commenting on that, but wisely declined.
"Oh, but I have a much more fun idea!" Mim argued. "I know of a couple transformations that would get him out of the way so we could go in and do whatever we wanted, with no one to stop us!"
"Let's hear it out," Mozenrath told her.
He agreed to give her plan one chance.
For Cid, business was steadily growing. Knowledge of other worlds was becoming more commonplace by the day; the multiverse had come a long way from when everyone had believed there was only one world (their own) or two (their own and a realm more divine). While it pleased Cid to have more customers to come along with this knowledge, it also piled up a lot more work at his door, and he often found himself pulling double time between the garage and Committee work. It was exhausting and yet rewarding.
This time, Cid had been offered the chance to work on a custom model, built from the ground up. The engine was the finishing touch. It always felt good to put that last piece in place on a new vehicle, and Cid hoped his customer would be satisfied with the results. He reached down to pick up a Warp-Gummi, ready to embed it in said engine.
Before his fingers could even brush it, a clucking pink squirrel raced across the garage floor, breezing past Cid and picking up the gummi piece in her mouth.
"WHAT THE – " Cid did a double take. Once he'd gotten his bearings, he took off running after the squirrel. "GET BACK HERE WITH THAT!"
He could have sworn the squirrel laughed at him. It was most unfortunate for Cid that he didn't think back to the battle of the computer terminal room, where he'd seen a certain witch shapeshift into an array of animals this exact color in order to attack. He simply thought this an ordinary squirrel that was out to get his goat. Round and round the garage he chased Mad Madam Mim until she decided to shoot straight out the door, Warp-G in mouth, bolting down the street at top speed.
"GOD DAMMIT, YOU LITTLE SHIT!" Cid bellowed as he charged after her. "YOU BRING THAT FUCKIN' THING BACK RIGHT THE FUCK NOW OR I'LL TURN YOU INTO A FUCKIN' SCARF!"
Mozenrath, Aghoul, and Wuya hustled around the corner to stay out of sight, but they needn't have worried; Cid blew right past them without looking at anything but the squirrel that had his Warp-G. One block down, Even was making a greater effort to keep himself concealed, but was still relieved when Cid didn't even glance in his general direction.
Once he was sure the garage was vacated, Mozenrath waved his two companions on. "Let's go."
Mim led Cid all the way through town, ducking and weaving among the feet of the shoppers in the main square. Cid shoved people roughly aside as he barged after the squirrel, spouting such a string of curses that the ears of all nearby children were covered. Twice or thrice, he thought he'd lost sight of the squirrel, only to see the flicker of a purple tail through the thick of the crowd, reigniting the chase. He barreled through the square, down a side street, and eventually into the waterway, plunging down into the depths belowground. There, the squirrel was harder to see in the shadows, but Cid followed the sound of that chuckling cluck-cluck-cluck.
But soon that sound was only echoes. Cid knew what corner the squirrel had turned, and followed her right around it. He collided with a great and springy net that had been strung across the tunnel, cursing out whoever had put it there. He tried to peel himself away from the net, only to find that it was sticky with some sort of glue, and he was quite attached to it. It was almost like it wasn't a net of rope at all, but…
A jolt of realization and fear surged through Cid's heart. He stopped struggling a moment, looking through the net – the web – at the tunnel beyond. Despite the lack of illumination, he still caught the sight of something moving. Something large. Something with a bulbous body and eight legs.
Mim hoped he had seen her while she was still in the spidery shape she'd used to spin the web up. It would give him something to worry about while he was trapped down there. She briefly considered going back to bite his head off while she still had the jaws for it, but had the feeling Mozenrath wouldn't be pleased with that after all the trouble they'd gone to for subterfuge. She simply transformed back into a human and teleported into the garage.
...
The Magic Mirror hung ominously on the wall of the chamber of Villain's Vale, and Grimhilde gazed into its dark, glassy depths, thinking of how she wanted to phrase her first scry. It was a pity that the Mirror's gaze could only encompass one world at a time; otherwise, she could just find Mozenrath and be done with it.
"Is that what you're using to find that little brat?" Cruella asked.
Grimhilde found herself questioning for the fortieth time why that woman's presence was necessary. "It is."
"And you're certain it works?"
"At one time, I used it to tell me who the fairest in the land was each and every day," Grimhilde stated coldly. "And it was never wrong. Not even once."
"Why, then, it must have said you each and every time!" Cruella replied.
"Is that your form of flattery?" Grimhilde raised a brow.
"Oh, come now," Cruella cajoled, "if we're working together, we may as well have a good time of it, shouldn't we?"
"As a matter of fact," Grimhilde stated, eager to change the subject, "it did not name me as fairest each day. It did so until my stepdaughter Snow White came of age, at which time it named her."
"Well, I hope you had her killed," Cruella remarked offhandedly.
"I attempted to," Grimhilde informed Cruella coldly. "Multiple times. First, there was that fool huntsman I ordered to bring me her heart – "
"Oh, darling, never trust hired hands," Cruella sighed. "If you want something done right – "
"You must do it yourself," Grimhilde concluded. "I did just that after Humbert failed. I presented the girl with a poison that would put her into a state between sleep and death evermore. The only antidote was True Love's Kiss."
This incited a throaty laugh from Cruella: "Oh, HAHAHAHAHAHA! True love! Darling, there's no such thing!"
"That was the fallacy that led me to believe the poison would work," Grimhilde admitted.
"Oh, dear," Cruella commented. "So she was actually cured of it, then? With True Love?" The woman seemed absolutely disgusted.
"I would rather not speak of it," Grimhilde huffed.
"Very well, then," Cruella resolved. "Do your thing with the mirror."
Grimhilde turned back to the glass, casting her arms out before it. "Slave in the Magic Mirror," she commanded, "come from the farthest space. Through wind and Darkness, I summon thee! Speak! Let me see thy face!"
Flames filled the glass from the inside, casting a burning orange glow over the room. When they settled, a face shaped like a green mask was situated in the center of the Mirror, its empty eyes focused on Grimhilde. "What wouldst thou know, my queen?" it asked in a deep baritone, cloudy smoke obscuring it from view only to subside and reveal it again.
"Magic Mirror in this keep," Grimhilde said evenly, "'round Radiant Garden, thine eyes must sweep. If in this Garden Mozenrath be, then reveal his place to me."
"In this world, the sorcerer appears," the Mirror responded, equally evenly. "If it is him you seek, look no further than here."
The face in the Mirror dissipated, and the exterior of Cid's garage filled the glass. The scene changed, as though the Mirror was showing the point of view of someone walking into the garage. It stopped just inside, where Mozenrath, Aghoul, Wuya, and Mim were interrogating a fifth person.
"So he has already returned," Grimhilde observed. "He must be a true imbecile."
"How long ago did we even arrive at this castle?" Cruella agreed. "And already, we've found him! This is going to be easier than we thought!"
Grimhilde cast a Corridor of Darkness in the center of the room. "After you," she told Cruella.
"Oh, no, darling!" Cruella waved both hands at the Corridor. "Go on your own. I'll catch up soon enough. I've got to get a few things together first."
"As you wish," Grimhilde stated with a nod.
"Just don't destroy them too completely," Cruella implored. "Leave some for me to have fun with, too!"
"I will see what I can manage," Grimhilde told Cruella before stalking into the Corridor and closing it.
...
"I think this ship will do nicely," Mozenrath stated, looking over the gummi craft Cid had been working with. "Now, if Mim would just hurry up and get back here to do the honors…"
"Don't our bags work on this?" Aghoul produced his enchanted purse, presenting it to the ship only to be met with no effect.
"Not on anything bigger than your average piece of furniture," Mozenrath explained. "Unless, of course, you're – "
Mim zapped back into the center of the garage, now back in the form of Yuffie. "What did I miss?" she asked.
"Just us waiting for you to finish up with that Cid fellow," Aghoul informed her. "Tell me you did something gruesome to him."
"Oh, he'll remember what I did to him for quite a while in his nightmares!" Mim laughed.
"Now," Mozenrath broke in, trying not to get frustrated at the fact that Mim and Aghoul were only delaying his plan, "Mim, we'll need you to – "
"Shhh!" Wuya hissed, turning to look back over the room.
"What is it?" Mozenrath sighed.
"I heard something," Wuya explained. "Someone else is in this room."
Mozenrath cast his gaze around the garage. He saw nothing. Wuya then pointed in the direction of the slight sound she'd heard: a large tool cabinet resting against the wall. Mozenrath strode toward it, levitating it aside easily to reveal the spy who'd been holding his breath, frozen, behind it. "Don't you have somewhere to be?" he asked.
Even cursed out his racing heart yet again. But he found it within himself to reply: "You tell me, Squall. Where do I have to be?"
"Do I look like I know or care?" Mozenrath responded.
"Squall Leonhart would," Even informed him. "After all, we work in rather close quarters. And furthermore, he refuses to be addressed as 'Squall.' And here I was thinking your glamour was clever. Then again, I'm speaking to a group who thinks it's smart to steal a gummi ship without a Warp-G installed. The engine hatch is wide open, and anyone can see – "
"Anyone can see you talk too much," Mozenrath growled. "Well, I guess there's no point in hiding it anymore." With a flick of the wrist, he dispelled the four glamours, laying his, Wuya's, Mim's, and Aghoul's true appearances bare.
"As I thought," Even remarked proudly.
Mozenrath then surrounded Even with an aura of blue, lifting him up into the air and slamming him up against the wall with magic. "Did you think THIS far ahead?" the sorcerer taunted.
"Put me down THIS INSTANT!" Even cried, fear creeping into his tone.
"Do we have to keep this one alive?" Mim asked. "He already knows too much!"
"True, very true," Mozenrath mused. "I think we can get away with one casualty."
"Please…don't!" Even begged. "I'll do anything! I can tell you all of the castle's weak points!"
Aghoul drew back his arm, a skull bomb nestled in it. "Ready, aim…"
Mozenrath put up his left hand in a "stop" gesture. "Not just yet," he warned Aghoul. "I want to know exactly what doing 'anything' includes. This one might be useful. You said you know the castle's weak points?"
"Down to every waterway and pipe!" Even gushed in desperation.
"And you're willing to just give this information away to us because…?" Mozenrath pressed.
"Because I care far less about any of THEM than I do not being killed!" Even snapped.
"Even though they're your friends?" Mozenrath continued. "The cohorts you work in close quarters with?"
"FRIENDS?" Even spat. "They are a parade of nuisances that plagues me day in and day out!"
He found himself gently lowered back to the floor. "You may just have bought your own survival," Mozenrath informed him. "Now, tell me more about – "
Mozenrath didn't get the chance to finish the question, nor did Even get the chance to answer. For Grimhilde's Corridor had opened up in the center of the garage, and the evil queen strode through.
"And who have we here?" she asked mockingly.
...
The young man who worked the front desk of the office of the Knightdock Account – the town's local newspaper – was surprised to see the pair that entered via the front door more because of what they were wearing than anything else. He half wondered if they'd gotten lost looking for some sort of black tie dinner. The man, who was tall and bald with a mysterious red mark on his face, was clad in a suit and tie of ebony. The woman accompanying him, who was much more elderly and several shades purple, was clothed in a magnificently voluminous gown of white with black pinstripes and the occasional patch of gray; a tall black feathered headdress set it off.
"Uh…can I help you?" the receptionist asked.
"That you can," the Huntsman told him. He had been none too happy about showing his face to the general public, but Yzma had finally talked him into leaving the dragon helmet behind. He needed to put on a less conspicuous appearance for the public, especially when Yzma's gown, which was necessary to their scheme, was making such a statement on its own. And so he had resorted to his go-to alter ego when he had to conduct business by day in the New York of his world. "We would like access to your archives."
"Well, sure," the receptionist stated. "You can look around all you want, but we charge if you want to take any of our back issues home. I should warn you, though, we're about to close up for the night in a couple hours."
"A couple hours should be enough," the Huntsman stated.
"Just head on back," the receptionist told them. "Third door on the right. The afternoon assistant should already be back there. Hopefully he'll be in the mood to actually help you."
Yzma wondered exactly what that meant.
"We shan't be long," the Huntsman promised.
"Duly noted, Mr…?"
"Hemlock. Hunter Hemlock."
"I hope you find what you're looking for, Mr. Hemlock!"
As Yzma and the Huntsman proceeded down the hall, Yzma hissed, "So THAT'S your true name!"
"It most certainly is not," the Huntsman informed her. "It is merely a convenient alias. My birth name is something I keep well guarded. After all, there is any manner of magical creature that can control you by merely knowing your name."
Finding the correct door, Yzma pushed it open to reveal the Account filing room. Shelves covered the walls, filled with stacks of newspapers. A fair amount of them, however, had been pulled from the shelves and stacked up on the floor in the crude shape of a bed, with several issues rolled up to serve as a pillow. And upon this bed, a very short skeleton, one who would only have been up to Yzma and the Huntsman's waists, was curled up and having a nap.
Yzma and the Huntsman exchanged flabbergasted glances. Then Yzma strode forward, plucked a paper off the shelf, rolled it up tight, and smacked the skeleton good across the skull with it while barking, "WAKE UP!"
The skeleton stirred, slowly propping himself up on one arm. "hey," he greeted casually. "can i help you?"
"Oh, DON'T tell me YOU'RE the assistant," Yzma sighed.
"i'm the assistant, yeah," the skeleton confirmed. "so, uh, you need a paper or something?"
"We would like to browse at our leisure," the Huntsman told the skeleton. "If you would kindly leave us be…"
"And please TELL me those papers you were sleeping on were organized by date," Yzma groaned.
"i dunno," the skeleton said with a shrug as he swung his legs off the bed. "i've slept on more comfortable beds, myself."
Yzma, already feeling a metaphorical grater on her nerves, wondered if strangulation would be effective on somebody who didn't have a throat. "Will you just leave?"
"you know," the skeleton pointed out, "most people actually want me to help them find a newspaper after they wake me up. can't help but wonder why you don't."
"Well, you know what they say about wanting something done right," Yzma snapped.
"i'd ask what exactly it is you want done right," the skeleton continued, on his way out the door, "but something tells me i can still afford not to care."
That left Yzma and the Huntsman in a stunned silence as the diminutive monster departed the room.
"He knows," Yzma stated once she was sure he was out of earshot.
"That isn't possible," the Huntsman told her.
"He knows SOMETHING," Yzma hissed. "Why else would he say all those things?"
"Skeletons are known to speak cryptically for no reason."
"I don't want to make the mistake of underestimating that one!"
"In any case," the Huntsman told Yzma, "he said we could afford not to care. We should take him at his word. Moreover, we should begin the process in order to have enough time to get away with it."
Yzma slammed the door behind both of them as the Huntsman crossed the room to a desk where a dispensable roll of tape was situated. Yzma began plucking papers off the shelf rapidly, making sure each issue she grabbed was different as she unfolded the leafy pages. It was time to put her plan to work.
...
"I could ask you the same thing," Mozenrath told Grimhilde.
"I can hardly believe your stupidity," Grimhilde replied. "Not only to return to this world, but so close to Maleficent's stronghold. You've made it all too easy."
"You're with HER, aren't you?" Mim pointed an accusing finger at Grimhilde.
"And you're NOT with Maleficent?" Even asked in shock. This changed things. He still hated Maleficent and her flunkies with every fiber of his being. But he did so miss the Darkness…
"I'm guessing you want to try and bring back some body part or another as a trophy to trade to Maleficent for brownie points," Mozenrath sighed. "Let's just get your humiliating defeat over with."
Grimhilde had expected him to say something along those lines. However, she had spent the better part of her life studying magic in all of its forms. Her knowledge went far beyond potions and poisons. She cast another Corridor into being, and the Magic Mirror floated out of it. Immediately, Mozenrath felt the magnetic pull. He threw a bolt of blue plasma at the glass, only to watch it ricochet off before Mozenrath's body was sucked completely into the glass.
"WHAT did you do?" Wuya snapped.
"You'll find out," Grimhilde told her slyly.
Wuya, Mim, and Aghoul were dragged only a couple inches before the Mirror became encased in a miniature iceberg that jutted up from the garage floor, nullifying the effect. The three mages turned to look in awe at Even.
"WHAT are you waiting for?" he barked. "DO something about her!"
Mim shifted into the shape of the giant spider once more, reaching back to gather a length of silk. Aghoul loaded a skull bomb into each hand. Even called upon something he hadn't touched in quite a while: an immense blue shield that materialized out of thin air to cover the length of half his body. Wuya put out her arms to either side, and ten rock giants burst through the floor of the garage, sights locked on Grimhilde.
"I summon thee, creatures of Darkness!" Grimhilde called out, and ten of the sword-wielding Heartless known as Invisibles materialized from the air, flying forth to hack away at Wuya's rock creatures.
Aghoul launched both skulls, and Grimhilde batted one away with a deflection shields that surrounded her bare left hand. The other, she caught in her right hand. It deactivated with a pathetic "pop" and a plume of smoke. Mim threw a loop of silk the thickness of a rope; it ignited in midair and whooshed up in a rush of flames. Wuya rushed Grimhilde directly, charging up a wealth of green magic in her hands –
The entire wall of the garage burst apart as Cruella de Vil's car crashed through it. The vehicle knocked down and completely ran over a stunned Ayam Aghoul before continuing on a beeline to Wuya. Wuya, literally caught in the headlights, turned to face the car and abandoned her charge to make a leap, handspringing off the hood and sailing over the vehicle.
Aghoul got up and dusted himself off, none the worse for wear. "Well, that was unexpected," he grumbled.
Cruella kept one hand on the wheel, turning the car into a loop of the garage's perimeter, while using the other to extend a diamond-studded semi-automatic pistol out the window, firing rapidly at whoever she could aim for that wasn't Grimhilde. Wuya caught the first five bullets with magic, redirecting them back at Cruella, but the car was going at such a speed that all Wuya did was put five bullet holes in the passenger side door.
"STOP BLOWING HOLES IN MY CAR!" Cruella barked. "BLAST YOU, HOLD STILL!" She shook her gun angrily, banging it against the bottom of the car window before taking another shot, this time at Mim.
Before Mim could take action, a wall of blue intervened between her and the bullets; the projectiles pinged harmlessly against Even's shield. "Why are YOU helping us all of a sudden?" Mim snorted.
"Because you present the potential opportunity of exactly what I've been looking for ever since I regained my heart," Even informed her. "I wouldn't be doing this if you were aligned with THEM. But as it stands…" He pivoted to keep his shield in the line of fire as Cruella's car rotated. "We may yet be beneficial to each other."
"WILL YOU PUT DOWN THAT BLASTED SHIELD!" Cruella yelled over the banging of her gun.
In the meantime, Grimhilde and Wuya had become locked in a battle of magic. When Wuya tried ice, Grimhilde melted it with fire. When Grimhilde tried lightning, Wuya neutralized it with a wall of rock that sprang up between the two. Eventually, both shot streams of raw plasma at each other, locking themselves into a stalemate. As Grimhilde put 90 percent of her focus toward countering Wuya, the remaining 10 percent was put toward observing Cruella's road rage. Finally, she thought, she was seeing the real Cruella. And she rather liked it. The woman was, as the name implied, quite cruel when cut down to the quick. Perhaps this alliance would be tolerable after all.
Aghoul saw his advantage: Grimhilde was distracted by Wuya. He summoned up his scythe, took one step toward the evil queen, and was mowed down a second time by the car.
"If you're on OUR side all of a sudden," Mim huffed, still taking refuge behind Even's ever rotating shield, "why did you trap Mozenrath inside that mirror?"
"Trap him inside?" Even huffed. "I prevented the rest of YOU from being trapped in the same way!"
"Well, how is Mozenrath supposed to get back out here, then?"
"I'm hoping he'll find a way," Even muttered. "That will prove my line of thinking is correct."
...
Mozenrath found himself in a dark, featureless expanse. His first instinct was to spin around and look behind him to see if the glass was still there from the other side so he could leave the way he came. It wasn't. He should have figured.
"Seek no more the world you know and cherish," a booming voice proclaimed from behind him. "My queen has commanded that you perish."
Mozenrath turned back to see the mask of the Mirror looming above him, several times his size, its empty eyes striking a chill into him if only momentarily. He warmed up back to cool: "I've heard of needing time to reflect, but this is getting a little out of hand, don't you think?"
The disembodied face spat out a sphere of pure Darkness at Mozenrath; the sorcerer batted it away easily with a deflection spell. The face then began to spin in a circle around Mozenrath, round and round, until suddenly it was not one mask but six making a loop. All six let loose projectiles of Darkness from their mouths at once, and it was only a quick dodge that protected Mozenrath from colliding with the mass of magic.
Then there were not six, but a hundred masks, lining up in two rows as far as the eye could see, facing inward at Mozenrath. Mozenrath knew what they were about to do, and he took off running down the makeshift corridor; globes of Darkness brushed the hem of his cape behind him as he ran. Without warning, one of the faces turned inward, blocking the end of the pathway, and Mozenrath knew then he was in trouble. The onslaught came from ahead and both sides, and overwhelmed with the negative magic, Mozenrath collapsed, quivering.
The Mirror's face became lone once more, looming over Mozenrath, getting as close as it could to deal the final blow.
Mozenrath's bare left hand seized the Mirror's lower lip. He forced himself up off the ground by sheer will, planting a foot on that lip to launch himself upward. Before the Mirror could make another move, Mozenrath thrust his right hand directly into the black, empty eye. Magic surged.
The Mirror gave a roar of pain, speeding backward so fast that Mozenrath slipped and fell right on his back. The entire area shimmered, and for a moment, the walls of the tiny dimension turned transparent so that Mozenrath could see the crystalline ice that surrounded the Mirror. The area shook; the Mirror was trying to regurgitate Mozenrath, but it was being held back. It didn't take a genius to figure out the problem was the ice.
Mozenrath charged up his gauntlet with an aura of extreme heat.
...
"YOU!" Even barked across the garage. "UNDEAD ONE!"
"I have a name, you know!" Aghoul retorted. "It's OHHHHHH NO YOU DON'T!" He leapt and somersaulted out of the way of Cruella's car, avoiding a third collision.
"Get what it is you came for in the first place!" Even ordered. "The rest of us will follow!"
"Since when do we take orders from YOU?" Mim asked indignantly.
"Since we are running out of options," Even stated.
Cruella had run out of bullets, so she threw the gun into the back seat and focused on using the car as her primary weapon. She turned it directly upon Even and Mim, hoping to simply crush them and be done with it.
The ice holding the Magic Mirror in place shattered completely and noisily; Mozenrath took his place on the battlefield once more. However, it was right in the way of Cruella's oncoming vehicle. It was now Mozenrath caught in the headlights, turning to stare in horror at the car that was headed right toward him.
Mim, in the shape of a rhinoceros, barreled right at the front of the car, intercepting it before it could touch Mozenrath. The impact only slightly shook Mim; it crumpled the front of Cruella's car.
The commotion distracted Grimhilde long enough for her to lose her focus. Wuya's magic overpowered her and threw her up against the wall.
"NOW, NOW, NOW!" Even screamed.
Aghoul made a mad dash for the gummi ship. Wuya and Even followed. Mim needed a moment to separate her horn from the car she'd crashed before she, too, headed for the ship. Mozenrath, flummoxed, stood stock-still until Mim doubled back, transformed into a horse, and knocked Mozenrath hard enough in the side that he knew to scramble onto her back. As soon as Mim had carried Mozenrath through the ship's door, Aghoul slammed it shut.
Even took the control panel right away, powering up the ship and taking it on a direct course out of the garage. He used the fastest route possible: directly through the wall ahead, putting an even larger hole in the side of the building, one that the Invisibles and rock creatures spilled out through to continue their fight in the streets. The ship blasted away, up and out of Radiant Garden's atmosphere.
Once Wuya was out of range, Grimhilde dropped down unharmed onto the ground. Cruella exited her car, slamming the door shut very angrily behind her.
The two women needed to meet eyes only once before they were in complete verbal agreement: "AFTER THEM!"
...
The Knightdock sheriff station contained one very small and uncomfortable holding cell. One wall was made of iron bars, offering a view into the rest of the station. The other three were of concrete, and presumably were very thick. One of them had a rather small window set in its upper quadrant; it could be assumed this was bulletproof glass. The only notable landmark in the room was a small cot that was either a bench or a bed. All in all, it was a less hellish version of the holding cell Hades had used to store Roman. At least both of those had been roomier than the holding cell aboard Ironwood's ship, Roman thought. He really had to stop making a habit of inhabiting cells like this.
They'd offered him a phone call; Roman wasn't stupid enough to call any of his allies over a land line that he knew might very well be monitored, so he declined. In a town this small, they probably didn't have the phones bugged, but it was better to be safe than sorry. Then they'd thrown him in the cell and retreated to the opposite end of the station to talk about transferring him to a place called "New Vulpine." Given the context, Roman figured out it was a neighboring metropolis with a bigger and stricter police department as well as a prison complex that sounded several degrees more unpleasant than this holding cell.
Roman sat down on the cot, leaning his back against the wall. If nothing else, he had some time to think. He assumed that one or another of his allies would be along at any moment to launch a scheme for his freedom. No doubt Neo and Snatcher were either collaborating on it or arguing over who would get to him first. In the meantime, he contemplated why he'd actually decided to go along with any of this in the first place.
It was better than working in the clutch of Salem's iron fist. That was for sure. This was a place Roman really felt like he could be himself. His rationale had always been "If you can't beat 'em, join 'em." He didn't even feel like he had to try to beat Mozenrath to want to join him. And yet it had been revealed to Roman quite early on that nothing was ever that easy. He'd said as much to his rival: the real world was cruel. There was a reason he'd learned to take things for himself: because the real world was never going to give him what he wanted if he waited around for it to do so. Things fell apart by nature. What made this any different?
And, most of all, what made Archibald Snatcher any different? Why had Roman decided to act upon his feelings? There was a very good chance that was all going to go down in flames. But Roman had wanted him for so long that he couldn't stand not bringing it up anymore. He tried to think of when exactly it was that he had fallen. He'd thought it was out on karaoke night, when Snatcher had molded him into Fiammetta and then sung with a siren's tone, but that was really only when Roman had figured out he'd felt something about him for a while. So now they were together, and all because Roman had spoken up. And Roman was hanging onto the hope that the cruelties of fate weren't going to throw that decision back into his face repackaged as a horrible, horrible mistake.
At about that point, Roman figured he had too much time on his hands and was just getting into a boringly depressing place. Looking out into the sheriff station, he saw only one young officer. "Hey, you," Roman snapped at him.
There was no response.
"What's 'New Vulpine'?" Roman asked.
"The precinct that's going to put you where you belong," the officer responded without looking up from his desk.
"So that's the big city next to here, right?"
"How don't you know this?" The officer was confused. "You show up out of nowhere, nobody can figure out where your base is, and you don't know the name of one of the biggest cities in the country."
"I'm just a quirky ball of enigma," Roman replied with a smirk.
The officer shot him a disparaging glance before turning back to his work.
Roman kicked at the bars of the iron wall experimentally, rattling the door a bit. He then stood up on the cot to rap on the glass of the window with his fist.
"That's bulletproof," the officer stated, as though it were a reflex.
"Duly noted." Roman sat back down on the cot and waited. Somebody should be coming along any time now. Unless, of course, this was where he was proven wrong. Maybe no one would come at all, and all he would have to rely on was himself. Not the preferred outcome, but one he could live with.
As night fell, Neo crept toward the back of the sheriff station. Avoiding the security cameras was easy enough; to them, she became invisible. The harder part was cutting all of the feeds while still concealed. Once the last camera was disabled, she knew she had to act fast; they'd notice soon that the feeds were dead. First, she hopped up to see if she could get a look through the tiny window. It took her a couple jumps to reach the right height, but she was able to visually confirm that Roman's cell was there on the other side, and he was lying down on the cot in it, sleeping. Neo turned to give a quick thumbs-up across the yard to the person waiting in the shadows before darting around front to the main door of the station.
Snatcher, having registered Neo's signal, began to count to twenty.
Now completely visible, taking on the appearance of a raven-haired Goth, Neo strode into the front door of the police station. The officer, now the only one on duty, looked up at her and asked, "Can I help you?"
Neo produced a can of pink spray paint from a pocket, turning to one of the walls and thinking that it was a pity Roman was asleep, because he sure would enjoy this show. She shook up the can thoroughly, then sprayed a very rude message on the wall, telling the police what they could go do to themselves.
"HEY!" The officer stood bolt upright. "Stop that right now!"
Neo turned to him and sprayed the can twice, getting a dusting of powder pink over his uniform. She then winked and turned to run out the door.
"You! STOP!" The officer bolted after her; she made sure to stay just enough in sight that he could chase her for a while. Now the station was completely unguarded, and the security tapes were recording nothing.
"Eighteen, nineteen…twenty." Snatcher proceeded into the yard with the huntstaff in hand. Neo had confirmed this was the spot. He thought about shooting directly at the wall, but there was the risk of damaging the person on the other end. The window seemed high up enough off the ground that aiming for it would offer the best chance of not blowing up Roman himself, and besides, it was probably the wall's weak point. Snatcher pointed the huntstaff at it; he had to pound on the weapon a couple times with his fist before it activated, its kick causing him to reel backward. A green ray of energy collided with the window in the wall with a BOOM. The dogs of several nearby residences began barking, and Snatcher nervously pressed against the wall, hoping he hadn't drawn too much attention to himself with the noise.
Roman was woken instantly. He looked around to see the pane of glass that had been in the window neatly dislodged and lying in pieces on the floor; it had only cracked when it hit the cement. While the huntstaff had reduced some of the wall's thickness from the outside, it still hadn't broken through anything but the window. Scrambling up to stand on the cot, Roman peered through the window, poking his head through to confirm what he suspected had happened. "So you finally noticed I was gone," he teased as soon as he spotted Snatcher.
"Don't be daft," Snatcher hissed. "We've been waiting for the opportune moment for this all day. And keep your voice down!"
"Were you trying to wake up the whole neighborhood?"
"Absolutely not, and I'd appreciate it if you didn't assist me in doing exactly that."
"Okay, fine," Roman responded in a more whispery tone. "Better?"
"Much," Snatcher told him. "Now stand back. I'm going to have to blast the wall again."
"I thought you weren't trying to wake up the whole neighborhood."
"I'm also trying to get you out of that cell!"
"You already did," Roman pointed out, gesturing to the rectangular hole in the wall where there had once been a bulletproof window.
Snatcher stepped back, sizing up the aperture. "You'll never fit through there," he said bluntly.
"Oh, thanks," Roman groand sarcastically. "Yes, I will, and you are NOT setting off another explosion. I'm still not sure how no one came after us because of that first one!"
"Because the officer on duty is trying to catch a sadistic little vandal," Snatcher informed Roman. "One wearing a face that will never be seen in this town again after tonight."
"Nice!" Roman hoisted himself up into the window frame, which was admittedly a rather tight fit.
Snatcher extended a hand to him; "Will you be needing – "
Roman held up his own hand; "I got this." As he crawled and squirmed his way through, he brought up, "By the way, they were – ngh – going to turn me over to the police department of the city next door." He paused a moment to hold his breath and draw in his stomach. "And that got me thinking – "
His train of thought was interrupted when he realized he'd gotten himself into a point where he could go no further forward. Right around his hips, the frame where the window had been was holding him firmly in place. Bracing his hands against the wall, he gave a couple experimental tugs, only to get nowhere at all; he was quite stuck.
With a sigh, he told Snatcher, "Don't you say a word."
...
Yzma and the Huntsman taped as many newspaper pages as they could right over the former's gown, utilizing any and every bit of space. While the Huntsman turned his gaze to the wall, Yzma stuffed several pages under her skirt. So long as they turned the color photos down, nothing looked to be amiss. The man at the front desk had seen Yzma walk in wearing black pinstripes on white with some gray patches, and he was going to see her exiting wearing the exact same thing; the lines of text of the newspapers and the black-and-white photographs would fill in for the stripes and patches.
When Yzma had a few weeks' worth of papers attached to her person, she declared, "We are ready to leave."
As the Huntsman set the roll of tape back down on the far table, the receptionist poked his head in through the door; "We're closing up now. Did you find what you were looking for?"
"Oh, most certainly!" Yzma said sweetly. "Thank you for all your kind assistance. Though that office assistant of yours could use a shot of caffeine and a stern talking-to."
"Yeah," the receptionist admitted, "Sans is a bit of a lazybones, if you'll pardon the expression. But he's a good guy, so what can you do?"
"Fire him," Yzma stated coldly. "You can fire him. It isn't difficult."
"Well, have a good evening, Mr. and Mrs. Hemlock!" the receptionist said jovially.
"We're not married," the Huntsman replied sternly.
"Oh, sorry!" the receptionist gushed. "Wow. Should NOT have assumed that. Have a good evening, Mr. Hemlock and Ms…?"
Yzma panicked. "…Amzy."
The Huntsman very nearly cracked a smile.
"Ms. Amzy," the receptionist concluded.
As Yzma and the Huntsman hustled out of the room, the receptionist couldn't help but wonder why it sounded like they were rustling like paper when they walked. But, looking back at them, he couldn't pick out a difference between how they'd looked earlier and right then. So he shrugged it off.
"Ms. Amzy," the Huntsman reiterated once the pair was far outside the office premises.
"I panicked!" Yzma hissed. "It won't happen again!"
...
"Are you CERTAIN you don't require my assistance?" Snatcher asked smugly.
"Just…give me a minute," Roman grunted.
"All right, then." Snatcher leaned against the wall beside Roman, putting one foot up against it as he watched.
Roman struggled for several minutes, but no matter how he pushed and wriggled, he couldn't seem to dislodge himself from the wall. And despite his initial rush of internal "I told you so," Snatcher had to admit to himself that watching Roman be in distress was becoming uncomfortable.
"All right," Roman admitted. "You were right, I was wrong, and now I'm stuck in the wall. Now can you please just help me?"
"Since you've asked so kindly." Snatcher walked back around to face Roman, wrapping his arms up around Roman's underarms. Roman instinctively reached out to grip Snatcher's shoulders tightly, and Snatcher gently tugged at Roman's body to see if he could dislodge him.
"For whatever it's worth," Snatcher grunted, "this is hardly new to me. As my former associate Mr. Trout was quite a large man, I spent a fair amount of time extricating him from doorways."
"Great," Roman huffed. "So now I'm a throwback to the days of the dumb henchmen."
"That isn't what I meant, and you know it, Torchwick."
"Anyway," Roman went on, scraping the other side of the wall with his toes in hopes of finding a foothold to push against, "as I was saying, there's this whole big city one over from here. New Vulpine. They were going to turn me over to them, and I got to thinking. So you're going to be spreading the word as Frou Frou that monsters are the real enemy here, right?"
"Quite right."
"Well, the people in THIS town are used to living with monsters, okay? So you've got that working against you. Those monsters have all their little friends working with them to stick up for them when you try and bring 'em down. And I KNOW you can pull harder than that."
"Well, the fact is that quite UNlike with my former idiot stooges," Snatcher explained, "I don't want to hurt you."
"And I don't want to be a permanent wall decoration, so screw it."
"Well, all right, then." Snatcher braced one foot against the wall, tightened his grip on Roman, and heaved.
There was a brief moment when Roman absolutely regretted talking Snatcher into being less gentle; the last squeeze through the aperture was very painful, and Roman feared for a moment that he actually was going to break something in his body on the way out, but then, in a fell swoop, the rest of his body was forced through and he found himself on the other side of the wall completely. The momentum and shift of weight caused Snatcher to topple over backward, Roman falling on top of him, each still with a tight grip on the other. "Y'know," Roman remarked, his green eyes sparkling as he met Snatcher's, "this is not that uncomfortable of a position to be in."
"And we can emulate it later, when we're not on the run," Snatcher informed him.
Roman stood up and dusted himself off, sure he had a bruise or more on his waistline, and then offered Snatcher a hand to get him to a standing position. "To continue," Roman went on when both were upright and moving, taking a roundabout course back to Mt. Ebott, "if you're planning on pulling the Frou Frou act here, well, yeah, you'll probably get far. But, and I'm speaking from experience here, the big city is full of a lot more hate and insanity. Now, if you went over THERE to tell them how bad things were HERE – "
"TORCHWICK, YOU'RE BRILLIANT!" Snatcher halted a moment to grab Roman by the forearms and stare him in the face, an expression of wild joy crossing his own.
"I know," Roman replied slyly.
After the briefest of kisses, Snatcher went back on course for base, tugging Roman along behind him. "Well, then, let's get a move on!"
Across town, Neo had ditched the officer and doubled back to beat him to the station. She had a few things she needed to collect from the evidence locker.
...
The gummi ship careened through interspace, narrowly avoiding the great chunks of space debris that threatened to crunch it by collision at high speed. Despite his near misses, Even was a steady hand of a pilot.
"Take us back to our base," Mozenrath ordered. "The coordinates are – "
"We aren't going back to your base," Even interrupted.
"And you have the right to tell me this because…?" Mozenrath raised an eyebrow.
"Look out back of the ship," Even said calmly, "and tell me what you see."
Mim and Aghoul did just that. "There's another ship!" Aghoul cried.
"That will be the two women we just escaped," Even informed the group. "To return you home would be to lead them right to your base of operations. We need to lose them first."
"Isn't there some function on this ship that will warp us somewhere else without them seeing where we go?" Mozenrath asked.
"You've just described the exact function of a Warp-Gummi," Even grunted. "Which, as I have stated, this ship does not have."
Behind the fleeing ship, Cruella piloted a second stolen craft, Grimhilde at her side. "We've got them in our sights now!" Cruella laughed.
"They shall be in our clutches in but a moment," Grimhilde promised.
Cruella reached for the onboard weapons, but Grimhilde gently wrapped her fingers around Cruella's wrist to stay her hand. "You will not need those," she said slyly. "We have something much more powerful on our side."
A fleet of small, spiky crafts zoomed in out of the periphery of either side of the front window, honing in on Mozenrath's ship. "Those are the Heartless, aren't they?" Cruella asked.
"They will hopefully finish the job for us," Grimhilde informed Cruella. "However, I have not forgotten your words of wisdom. Depending on hirelings has been the undoing of both of us in the past, and so we must trail the ship until the job is done. Keep us close."
"But of course, darling!"
The ship lurched as Cruella zoomed between two immense rocks just before they crashed into each other; she followed Mozenrath's ship up around tight corners and through passages that required her to turn her craft sideways to follow. Grimhilde was unceremoniously thrown to the ground, gripping onto the dashboard for dear life. "Can you pilot more carefully?" she snapped.
"Oh, of course I can," Cruella retorted, "if you want to lose them completely."
"Carry on," Grimhilde grumbled.
The Heartless crafts surrounded Mozenrath's ship, slamming hard into one side of it and sending it into a spin that Even barely pulled out of in time to avoid making a collision with a stone wall. "They've set the Heartless loose on us," Even hissed.
"Thank you, Captain Obvious," Wuya replied.
"One of you, man the onboard guns!" Even commanded.
Mozenrath, Mim, Aghoul, and Wuya exchanged confused looks.
"You DO know how to operate gummi weaponry, do you not?" Even groaned and rolled his eyes. "The far left panel on the dashboard. It operates on a turret system. Oh, who am I kidding? I'll have to make this simple: it rotates when you turn the levers."
"Ooh, sounds like fun!" Mim immediately grasped a lever and hammered on the bright red buttons of the weaponry panel; several Heartless ships went down in flames. "It IS fun!" Mim crowed before cackling madly, continuing to blast ship after ship.
"It won't be enough," Even grunted. "We've got to take evasive action. Hopefully, this will get rid of our followers as well."
"And by 'evasive action,'" Mozenrath questioned, "you mean…?"
"I mean hold on to something," Even grumbled.
He took the ship down and around a massive chunk of stone, through several stone rings, and weaving around and around a rockier patch of debris. When a clear pathway opened up, he opted for a rougher one. Many of the Heartless ships smashed themselves on the rocks.
Cruella kept close, maneuvering through near miss after near miss. Grimhilde had thought utilizing the onboard seats, let alone the belts, was beneath her, but as it stood, she chose no longer to stand, instead buckling herself tightly into the nearest seat just as Cruella followed Even round a loop-de-loop that took the ship upside-down completely.
"They are persistent," Even observed through gritted teeth. "We shall have to make a landing on a world and attempt to shake them off on land. Luckily, we're near to a world that is off most maps. Landing there will give us quite the advantage. You, with the purple hair! Remain stationed at the guns! Do not abandon them until I give the word!"
"Why would I want to abandon them?" Mim asked. "I want to set some up on our base!"
"We're not going to draw ATTENTION to ourselves that way," Mozenrath hissed. He turned his attention to Even: "You're being strangely helpful."
"In the hopes that perhaps, you will see fit to help me," Even replied.
"And how are you expecting us to do that?" Mozenrath asked.
"I shall disclose the details later," Even told him. "As for now, rest assured: you are already doing it."
As he tore the gummi craft out of the rocky patch and onto a direct course for the world of his choice, Even warned, "The inhabitants of this world are quite strange. None of them are remotely human. Consider yourself forewarned."
...
Roman and Snatcher arrived in Judgment Hall to see the Huntsman and Yzma removing newspapers fro Yzma's gown and spreading them out all over the floor, careful to avoid the design that contained their conquest spell. "I'm starting to know how Mozenrath feels when he surrounds himself with notes in the throne room," Yzma groaned. "I suppose now, we have to READ all of these."
"With five sets of eyes, it should take little time," the Huntsman reassured her.
"So, how'd it go?" Roman asked.
"Nobody suspected a thing!" Yzma gloated. "That will be the last time you mock one of my brilliant ideas!"
"I'm sure it won't be," Snatcher replied.
"And your escape was successful, I take it," the Huntsman commented.
Roman nodded. "Flawless."
Snatcher declined to comment on that front.
Neo chose that moment to skip into the hall, holding out the gifts she bore: the Melodic Cudgel and Roman's hat. "Okay, NOW it's flawless," Roman laughed as Neo tossed both items to him.
"Where is Lord Mozenrath?" Snatcher asked. "Has he not returned?"
"I do not believe he has," the Huntsman remarked, now aware of how strange that was.
"All he had to do was steal one ship and come back," Yzma added. "What is TAKING him so long?"
"Let alone Madam Mim, Miss Wuya, and Mr. Aghoul," Snatcher pointed out.
A silence passed between all five present as they tried to avoid the concept of worry.
"I'm sure they're fine," Roman said at last. "You watch. Give them thirty minutes, and Righty will come in here bragging about how he not only got the ship, but figured out where another one of those elements is."
However, as the hours dragged on, it became apparent that Mozenrath, Wuya, Aghoul, and Mim were not to be returning that night, and there was nothing the others could do about it but wait.