Taking Back the Crown

by JCMorrigan

Mozenrath. Archibald Snatcher. Roman Torchwick. Mad Madam Mim. Yzma. The Huntsman. Wuya. Ayam Aghoul. Their mission: take over the multiverse, or look fabulous trying. Rated M for swearing, steamy implications and VERY bloody battles. Contains slash and het shipping.

37. A Guide to the World of Twelve

A/N: I'm intercepting Wakfu canon after the "Quest for the Eliatrope Dofus" OVAs, assuming season 3 happens after them. Also, there may be kind of a mishmash of English vs. French terminology – the English subtitles based on the dub are most of what I have to go on, but I refuse to call Tristepin "Percedal." I outright refuse.

...

37. A Guide to the World of Twelve

Seven figures gathered in a dark basement room, standing in a circle. Six of them wore flowing cloaks of black with hoods pulled up; in the shadows of the room, lit only by stray candles, this was enough to shroud their faces.

But the Huntsman had ruined the entire aesthetic by refusing to wear the cloak.

"I don't see why you requested we wear such ridiculous clothing," he grunted, holding up the piece of paper that had served as his invitation: "We meet in the basement in secret tonight to determine the next step. WEAR A BLACK HOODED CLOAK!"

"Because," Yzma replied, "it emphasizes the secrecy of our meeting. It's for ambience. You can't have a gathering such as this without the right ambience."

"It does give it a more cryptic feel," Wuya added.

"Is there a point to obscuring our faces?" the Huntsman went on. "We all know each other's identity."

"Yeah, and we also all know you're a killjoy," Roman huffed. His "cloak" consisted of a black bedsheet that had been given some convenient stitches. Snatcher's was exactly the same.

"Your face is always hidden by all that headgear anyway," Aghoul pointed out.

"Hence a cloak is redundant," the Huntsman insisted. "I propose we cut to the quick. Why are we here?"

"Well, since Mozenrath is…er…memory-challenged at the moment," Yzma stated, "one might question whether he is fit to command. …The answer is no. No, he's not. One of us is going to have to step up and do it in his place."

"I hate to agree," the Huntsman sighed, "but I must."

"All right, don't all nominate me at once!" Mim volunteered.

"Literally no one was going to nominate YOU," Yzma huffed.

"And why not?" Mim put her hands on her hips defiantly. "Our goal is evil and chaos, and I'm the most chaotic evil one here!"

"We need a degree of order so that we may function," the Huntsman informed her. "Your methods of command would be directionless and self-destructive. We need to focus on our larger goal and strategize a route to it. I feel as though in Mozenrath's stead, I am the one best suited to that path."

"Remember what I said about you being a killjoy?" Roman sighed. "I agree that Mim is the LAST person who should be our leader – "

"Hmph!" Mim folded her arms. "You just don't know a good leader when you see one! You think I'd be a great leader, don't you, Ghoulie?"

"Well, I, uh…" Aghoul found himself trapped. "Not to change the subject, but did you see the weather today?"

"There IS no weather," Yzma reminded him. "We're floating in the middle of interspace!"

"As I was saying," Roman picked up, "Huntsy is probably the SECOND to last person who should be our leader. He's all work and no play. We'll finish the spell, all right, if we don't all get bored to death on the way."

"And who would you nominate?" the Huntsman asked, already knowing the answer.

"Well, I WAS in charge of the mission to Gotham," Roman reminded the group, "and we all saw how THAT turned out."

"Yes," Snatcher, Mim, and Aghoul said dryly and pointedly. "We did."

"Oh, come on!" Roman groaned. "It wasn't THAT much of a train wreck!"

"Torchwick," Snatcher sighed, "I admire you greatly. Truly, I do. But the position of command requires finesse and diplomacy. And while you do indeed have intellect and drive, make no mistake, I believe that I put both of those qualities in better context in a leadership role."

"So you'll be leading us into the next battle, then," Aghoul prodded. "I'm sure your YEARS of combat experience and ultimate skill with weaponry will come in handy."

"There's no need to be sarcastic," Snatcher muttered.

"How about instead of putting our faith in someone who barely knows how to fight," Aghoul suggested, "we put someone a little more durable at the frontlines? Someone like…why, how about little old me?"

"How about we put someone in charge who doesn't drop everything to chase the tail of the nearest pretty woman?" Wuya snorted. "If I could manage the other warriors of the Heylin, I can manage the rest of you."

"Didn't you backstab most of the Heylin warriors?" Aghoul pointed out.

"Didn't YOU lose most of your victories on your homeworld because you were bested in intellect?" Snatcher retorted.

"Maintaining control over idiots is no precedent for maintaining control over an intelligent and functional army," the Huntsman stated coldly. "That goes for both Wuya and Mr. Snatcher. Need I remind you I was in command over the entire Huntsclan: a band of highly trained warriors schooled in the ways of the supernatural?"

"Oh, yeah!" Roman retorted. "Now I remember! You did a GREAT job! Especially with Rose! She really respected you, there! Now, Neo and me, on the other hand – "

"Oh, like we don't all know how it really works," Mim huffed. "Neo only lets you give her orders because she finds you amusing. She's the one who's ACTUALLY in charge of the partnership."

"NOT true," Roman snapped.

"So if she told you she was the boss starting tomorrow, you'd be able to put her in her place?"

"Well…" Roman coughed. "'Put her in her place' is a bit of a strong term, isn't it? I'm only saying that because it's still a partnership. One where I just happen to make most of the decisions. I am NOT scared of Neo. Nooooooo waaaaaay."

"Tell yourself that all you want, fraidy-cat!" Mim scoffed. "I'm taking charge myself, starting now!"

"All right, then," Wuya taunted. "Tell us our next move, o great leader."

"We transport to the World of Twelve," Mim stated, "and we destroy everything in our way."

"And then what?"

"Well…we…"

"Do you even remember what we're looking for on that world?" Wuya raised a brow. "You WERE there when we put together the compass."

"It's an Element," Mim stated. "Of…something. It's really the destroying part that matters, anyway."

"No, it isn't," Snatcher and the Huntsman grunted.

"I'm just saying this team has to be run by somebody with knowhow AND swagger!" Roman insisted.

"Which is exactly why I should do it!" Wuya emphasized.

"You're a smart-aleck with delusions of grandeur!" Snatcher snapped.

"Your FACE is delusions of grandeur!" Mim contributed.

This got Mim, Aghoul, Roman, Snatcher, Wuya, and the Huntsman in a six-way shouting match until Yzma waved her hands in the air, yelling, "SILENCE! SILENCE, ALL OF YOU!" Once she'd gotten everyone's attention, she stated authoritatively, "We are getting NOWHERE with this senseless fighting! Clearly, there is only one way to solve this dilemma!"

"You're going to nominate yourself, aren't you?" Aghoul said.

"No, no, no," Yzma replied, waving her hand, not actually having paid attention to what Aghoul had said. "I was merely going to say that as a former advisor to an emperor and therefore the de facto ruler of an entire empire, I should be the one to take charge! I'm nominating myself!"

Even beneath the hoods, Yzma could make out the derisive glares of the other six.

"All right," she sighed. "Here's the deal. The party for the next mission should just be the seven of us and Mozenrath. He needs to learn to trust all of us. We're his inner circle! We're his best friends! And while we're there, in this 'World of Twelve,' we can each have a go at being in charge. At the end of the day, we'll pick whoever did the best job to lead the team. Does that sound fair?"

"A viable solution," Snatcher commented.

"I see no problem with this," Roman said with a pensive nod.

"What could go wrong?" Mim said with a shrug.

"It is the most productive plan suggested thus far," the Huntsman admitted.

"It's brilliant!" Wuya complimented.

"It really ought to settle things!" Aghoul said as he nodded fervently.

Of course it was a good plan, Yzma thought to herself. They were all going to go along with it because each of them thought they would come out on top at the end of it, and Yzma knew this.

Though she herself was sure it would be her who would take home the coveted title of team leader when all was said and done.

...

"All right, Scorpion Boy," Hades said as he stared Tyrian down. "Listen up, 'cause I am NOT, repeat, NOT gonna keep telling you this."

Tyrian replied by cracking a smile and giggling softly. Hades already hated him. They stood as close to each other as they could abide in the chamber Tyrian had been temporarily given to stay the night: a cell in the dungeon. In Villain's Vale, you had to earn your right to comfort.

"We're trying to take over the cosmos," Hades went on. "We have eggs in a bunch of baskets. There's a book we're after that could let us change the future, there's this whole Keyblade thing, and now there's whatever you've got going on with the seasons and the relics. But every time we get close to something good, someone gets in our way. Two someones, actually. You've got the spiky-haired kid on the permanent sugar high who seems like he should be dumb enough to take out in one blow, but makes up for it in his sheer unwillingness to just die. And then, on the other hand, you've got Mozzy. Annoying little wannabe sorcerer who tried to play with the big boys, got thrown into time-out, and is now claiming his own friends are better than we are anyway. You'd think he'd be easy enough to take out, especially since he, unlike the spiky-haired rainbows and sunshine brat, is actually literally killing himself by using his magic. But for some reason, no matter how hard we try to get rid of him, he keeps turning up wherever we go like a bad denarius. So, naturally, instead of waiting for him to burn himself out, we wanna speed up the process and get rid of him NOW before he becomes an actual PROBLEM. Thanks to Queenie, we know where he's going next and what he thinks he can pick up there. Some kinda green box. I dunno, doesn't look that important to me. The point is, we want you to prove your salt by offing Mozzy for good. Sending him to MY realm, where he'll have to deal with ME. You with me so far?"
"Kill the upstart sorcerer," Tyrian reiterated. "It sounds simple enough…then again, if it were, one of you would have already been able to do it."

Hades snorted, literal puffs of smoke exuding from his nostrils. "Is that really the note you wanna start on? Because I don't think that's the note you wanna start on."

"My apologies," Tyrian said with a grin that implied he didn't quite mean it. "Do go on."

"Anyway, we figured out where Gauntlet Boy is planning to strike next," Hades explained. "For whatever reason, he wants something on the World of Twelve. Don't know why, don't care. I'm taking you on a little road trip to see what you can do. You kill the guy, you're on the team. You blow this…well, we'll get back to what happens if you blow this. Sound fair?"

"I'm all for it," Tyrian replied, smiling broadly. "But before I agree to your terms, I'd like to know what happens to me if I fail. I'm guessing I perish slowly and painfully before my soul becomes yours to command?"

"See, I suggested that to Malef," Hades responded, "and she actually said she had a better plan in mind for ya." He flung out a hand, casting a Corridor of Darkness. "Walk with me, talk with me."

Hades strode into the portal, and Tyrian leapt right in after him.

On the other side was blank nothingness. Not Darkness, but instead an empty white that stretched for all eternity. It wasn't even possible to distinguish the ground Hades and Tyrian stood on from the rest of the realm.

They only looked forward, not bothering to turn around after the Corridor had closed. Otherwise, they might have taken notice of a curious figure some ways back.

"Welcome to the White Dimension," Hades introduced, spreading his arms wide. "Nothing but white, white, white, as far as you can possibly think of to go. No furniture, no landmarks, no sights to see, no food to eat, no water to drink, and NO ONE to talk to. THIS is what happens if you blow it. Best part? You'll get hungry. You'll get thirsty. But the White Dimension takes care of all your mortal bodily needs for you so that you never die. You CAN'T die. Don't even think about impaling yourself with that tail. The place won't let you. It's just going to be you wandering around, looking for things you'll never find. I was going to say you'll probably lose your mind, but babe, don't take this the wrong way, but lookin' at you, noooooot so sure that didn't already happen somewhere along the line. Now, think of what would happen if you WEREN'T mortal! Wouldn't wanna be in those shoes! Anyway, screw up the job, and it's the White Dimension for you. Capisce?"

"We are understood," Tyrian stated, his expression souring. It was not at all a desirable punishment. But he hadn't expected there not to be stakes.

"If we're clear," Hades stated, "then let's mosey for Mozzy." He cast another Corridor.

The ears of both were pierced by a desperate cry of "Wait! WAIT!"

They turned. There was a man there, a man they hadn't noticed before. It had taken him some time to run up to the newcomers; when he had seen them in the distance, his heart had begun to pound. He wore tattered garments of white, his long brown hair a messy tangle. His left arm was missing; the spot on his skin where it would have been connected glowed a brilliant sea-green.

"Okay, maybe you WILL have somebody to talk to in here," Hades sighed. "Memo to self: put Scorpion Boy as far away as possible from this guy so they can't entertain each other. It is, y'know, infinity."

"You're acting as if I've already failed!" Tyrian scoffed.

"How…is this possible?" the stranger rasped. "How are you able to enter and leave the White Dimension? You…you don't have the Eliacube!"

"I'm a god," Hades taunted. "Doi. I can go wherever the me I want."

"Take me with you," the stranger begged. "Please. Please, don't leave me here alone…"

"Sorry," Hades huffed. "No hitchhikers."

"It's adorable how sympathetic he thinks we are," Tyrian giggled.

"I don't care about sympathy!" the stranger said hurriedly. "I can help you! There must be something you want. I can help you get it! Just please, please don't leave me alone again! Are you going to the World of Twelve? I know it! I know it well! Do you want it destroyed? I can help you do that! I can help you conquer it! I can help you – "

Tyrian held up a hand, and the stranger fell silent. "I'm getting the strangest feeling…that we're on the same page," he laughed.

"'Destroyed' and 'conquered' are two of my favorite words," Hades added.

"All I need is the Eliacube," the stranger panted. "It will give me back my powers. Then I can help you with whatever you need." Insofar as it suited him, he added in his mind. He was desperate, but even desperation didn't rob him of his right to renege on a deal.

"I have business on the World of Twelve," Tyrian stated. "I've been ordered to complete a very specific task. Taking out the trash, if you will. And I've already got a slight idea of how to do it. But in order to work out the specifics, I'm going to need someone who knows that world. Someone to show me what I can use to my advantage. Are you that someone? Hmmmmmm?"

"Yes!" the stranger emphasized. "Yes, yes, yes! I am exactly what you are looking for! Just let me get my powers back, and I'll prove it!"

"Really?" Hades sighed. "You're just pickin' 'em up off the street now, Scorpion Boy?"

"Trust me," Tyrian stated cryptically, "and you'll be glad when it all pans out in the end. Just promise me that if he doesn't play by the rules, you'll help me get rid of him. What do you think? Back here? Or YOUR realm?"

Hades' eyes flicked up to the hood the stranger wore, with two large protrusions shaped like animal ears sticking up. He knew they weren't ears. "I don't think my realm's an option for this guy," he stated. "Eh. Might as well see where this goes. We'll take him."

"You won't regret it," the stranger said eagerly, not even knowing yet if he was speaking the truth.

"Might I know the name of my fortuitously met assistant?" Tyrian asked.

The stranger grinned, an expression that rather matched Tyrian's own face. "Qilby."

...

This time, when Yzma, Mim, Snatcher, Roman, Aghoul, Wuya, and the Huntsman gathered, in the control room, it was without black cloaks. More importantly, it was with Mozenrath.

"Does someone want to fill me in on what exactly we're doing?" Mozenrath asked, deadpan.

"Doing what everyone wants," Snatcher explained as he adjusted his tall red top hat. "Finding a little more time."

"The concentrated time element that will fill in our spell, to be precise," Yzma clarified. She held up the compass. "THIS will show us the way."

Mozenrath's discomfort was apparent to all present; he was physically retreating, leaning back, tense all over. He didn't want to admit that his distrust extended past the people currently around him – those who claimed to be his closest allies and best friends – and all the way to this spell they were putting together. How was Mozenrath to believe it was his idea? How was he to know it wasn't a pathway to his own doom?

He refused to admit it.

But they all knew that was how he felt anyway. It was written all over him.

"I promise you we are going to have a good time," Roman said encouragingly.

"Well, that or at least one of us is going to get horribly mangled," Wuya sighed dryly.

"Why not both?" Mim asked.

"I guess I'm going to have to learn why I run with this crowd one way or another," Mozenrath sighed.

"Then shall we?" Yzma asked.

"It is as opportune of a time as any," the Huntsman stated. "Cast the Corridor."

Mim took on that particular duty, and the Corridor opened up, inviting and intimidating at the same time.

"I still don't like the thought of all of you leaving," a cold voice broke in. All turned to face Vexen, who stood at the edge of the room. "Who, exactly, will keep order in your absence?"

"You, I guess," Mozenrath said casually.

"Is that smart?" Aghoul wondered out loud.

"We don't exactly have a lot of options," Wuya reminded him.

Vexen nodded. "I will make sure this ship is kept, if you'll pardon the wordplay, shipshape."

"We better not come back to find everyone else deep-frozen," Yzma grunted.

"You better not come back with more injuries than I can handle," Vexen retorted.

"Is…that something that happens often?" Mozenrath asked.

"Better not to think about it," Roman replied.

Mozenrath flinched. "How is THAT supposed to make me – "

"Chill, Righty!" Roman groaned. "If it makes you feel any better, it's USUALLY me who ends up getting mangled for some reason. …Why is it always me?"

"Because you run into situations without assessing them," the Huntsman explained. "You end up in over your head more often than not."

"Maybe we shouldn't have let Roman have the first turn in charge," Yzma whispered to Wuya.

"Too late," Wuya whispered back. "He made us swear no backsies."

"Can we just stop gabbing and go?" Roman urged.

And because the other six who had been present in the clandestine meeting had agreed indeed to let Roman have the first go, they all had to obey his order, and Mozenrath found himself forced to follow the crowd.

It didn't occur to anyone to pay attention to Snatcher's hat. After all, it seemed the least important thing to observe.

...

The Corridor emptied out at the edge of a tall, imposing-looking wall. Some ways down, a long line of people in all shapes and sizes, including some with fur and some with leaves covering their skin, were lined up at an aperture in the wall, waiting their turn to get in.

"Where…are we?" Mozenrath asked.

"We're not exactly sure," Yzma admitted. "This is where Vexen's coordinates took us."

"Does anyone else feel like maybe we shouldn't have trusted Iceman to show us the right way?" Roman pointed out. "He does have it in for most of us for being 'too loud' and 'distracting me from my work' and 'smoking in the lab' and 'breaking all of my highly sensitive lab equipment because you were exactly as drunk as you said I thought you were and decided my tools were your playthings.'"

"If this leads us to a dead end," Aghoul vowed, "we'll just have to arrange a little payback."

"Don't kill him," Mozenrath said quickly. "If I've been paying attention, he's our only medic."

"I wasn't going to kill him," Aghoul said defensively. "Just hide a bomb under his mattress."

"That would kill him," Mozenrath stated dryly.

"I keep forgetting what actually counts as mortal peril to you people with pulses," Aghoul muttered.

Yzma held up the compass. "Well, the needle seems to be pointing – "

Roman made a great show of faux clearing his throat. "I'm sorry, but WHO should have the compass right now?"

Yzma rolled her eyes, making a guttural noise as she forked over the compass.

Roman took a look at the needle. "Right through this wall," he announced. "The thingamabob is probably right on the other side."

"Or several thousand miles in that direction," Yzma reminded him.

"Are you the one with the compass or am I the one with the compass?" Roman snapped. "Anyway, I say we see what everyone's getting in line for."

"A surprisingly solid plan of action, coming from you," the Huntsman commented.

The eight set out for the gate in the wall. "This is rather refreshing," Snatcher pointed out. "The eight of us together like old times, with no one else to interrupt."

"It would be better if I actually knew you people," Mozenrath huffed under his breath.

"You left your hat behind," Wuya informed Snatcher.

"My hat…?" Snatcher did an about-face to see the red headwear lying on the ground, upright. "Could've sworn it was only just upon my head." He backtracked, bending to pick up the hat.

He intended to sweep it up by the brim, but found that it was much heavier than expected, and refused to simply budge off the ground. He pulled harder at the brim, this time managing to lift the hat off the ground and spill out the crumpled-up person who had been hiding inside of it.

All eight gaped as the stowaway unfolded, standing to full height. Snatcher looked back and forth between him and the hat, trying to figure out how it was even physically possible for him to have fit inside.

"Hellooooooooo," Ragdoll greeted, waving and beaming.

There was a silence before Mozenrath simply said "NO" and thrust out his hand. A circle of blackness fizzled into existence, then winked out. "Wuya! How do you make this WORK? I need to send him BACK!"

"But I only just got here," Ragdoll argued.

"We are NOT taking YOU," Mozenrath growled, trying again and again to open the Corridor.

"Mr. Merkel – " Snatcher began.

"Please, call me Ragdoll when we're on a mission," Ragdoll implored.

"…Ragdoll," Snatcher corrected. "Why were you inside my hat?"

"Because I knew if I asked to come along, you'd say no," Ragdoll replied cheekily.

"I'M SAYING NO RIGHT NOW!" Mozenrath growled as he struggled with the Corridor. "No, no, NO!"

Wuya put a hand on Mozenrath's right arm. "We'll work on Corridors later," she promised. She then put up the Corridor herself. "Ragdoll. Home. Now."

"But I don't want to," Ragdoll argued. "Am I not part of this team?"

"Not the inner circle, Mister Twister," Roman reminded him. "We're the original eight, okay? The real deal. You need to go back home and make sure Iceman doesn't flash freeze the entire base."

"I was so itching for an adventure," Ragdoll retorted. "I could help you, you know. You're looking for a highly valuable artifact, are you not? It sounds like you could use a master thief on your side."

"For the LAST TIME," Yzma said through gritted teeth. "GO HOME."

"Oh, can't we let him play along for now?" Mim implored. "He is quite the barrel of fun!"

"I don't see anyone else on your team who can fit inside a top hat without using magic," Ragdoll added. "You might need that, you know."

"When are we going to need specifically that?" Mozenrath groaned.

"Ehhh…" Roman thought it over. "Mister Twister, I'd LOVE to have you along. Really, I would. You've got swagger. But this was supposed to be kind of a team bonding thing."

"I won't get in the way," Ragdoll promised. "You'll hardly even know I'm here."

"Somehow, I doubt that," the Huntsman groaned.

"We're seriously wasting time arguing this," Roman sighed. "I say we just let him tag along."

"Or we could just throw him into the Corridor by force," Mozenrath suggested.

"Which I am willing to do," the Huntsman stated.

"If you must," Ragdoll replied. "By all means, do leave me alone with your personal belongings. I haven't yet explored just how intricate of a labyrinth our headquarters' ventilation system is. I'll put that on my to-do list after trying on Yzma's shoes and reading that book I saw Mozenrath leafing through earlier. Though, to save time, I could probably just take both of them into the ducts. It's a good thing I wouldn't be bitter at any of you for excluding me from a mission, or else I might just be tempted to leave them there."

The eight knew they were compromised. Wuya dismissed the Corridor.

"Mister Twister," Roman sighed, "you're terrible."

"That's why we get along," Ragdoll reminded him.

"We DON'T get along," Mozenrath grunted. "Not you and me."

"Well, this will just have to be the mission where we change that," Ragdoll stated as he set out for the gate.

"Just promise me one thing," Mozenrath pleaded. "No memes."

"You're a killjoy, Mozenrath."

"NO. MEMES."

"All right, agreed."

"WHAM ARMY, move out!" Roman declared, taking the lead of the group that was now of nine and striding confidently toward the gate.

...

Errands within Radiant Garden had been completed. Sora had taken his team consisting of Ruby, Papyrus, Stork, and Jasmine in one ship out to the World of Twelve. Kairi had led Jaune, Cadance, Madison, Vida, Chip, Genie, and Carpet on another ship bound for Galra Space. Sadira had immediately involved herself in the construction of the hourglass, and was spending a late night working on it. That left Riku, Aladdin, Nora, Ren, Nick, Xander, and Luna to stay in a block of guest rooms in the upper level of the Radiant Garden castle.

Xander settled into his bed: a plushy piece of furniture situated in a spacious room decorated in shades of dark green. He found it almost thrilling: that same experience one got while bunking in a hotel room on a vacation. He couldn't have known how long it had taken Riku to get used to the idea of inhabiting these chambers once more, and how thoughts of the near identical room Maleficent had given him were keeping him awake, forcing him to pace back and forth in the hall outside. He couldn't have known that Luna lay awake settled upon her own bed, used to night as her domain and utterly perplexed as to the idea of sleeping through all of it. All Xander knew was that he was tired out, he wanted to sleep, and the bed they had given him was more than conducive enough for that. He lay back, closing his eyes.

He did not, however, fall asleep right away. He simply lay still for a while, waiting for sleep to come. And had it arrived on schedule, far worse would have happened than what did.

Grimhilde, seeing Xander through her mirror, believed him to be asleep. She created a Corridor leading from her chambers into Xander's room. He was, after all, one of the Fairest of All she had seen in her mirror: specifically a male Fairest she had asked the glass to focus on.

She was sure she could take him unprepared. All the same, she was well aware he was surrounded by powerful allies and would have a weapon nearby, despite his wand having been stripped from him by Ursula. She planned to take the second required Fairest heart immediately after her capture of Xander, as well, and she did not yet have an estimate of how difficult that would be. So she had brought backup. The Dark Ace strode out of the Corridor behind her, sword blazing brightly in his hand. The raven Diablo rounded out the trio, flapping his way through to perch on Grimhilde's shoulder, ready to act as another set of eyes when it came to the next mission.

Things might have gone very, very wrong indeed. But when the Corridor was formed in Xander's room, Luna felt the energy of it in her own chamber. She flinched. "Something is not right," she muttered to herself. And when she opened the door, she found Riku in the hallway outside immediately.

Grimhilde and the Dark Ace seized Xander. His eyes flew open, and as he realized he was being kidnapped, he tried to scream. The noise came out muffled by the Dark Ace's hand clamped over his mouth. "Don't even try," the Dark Ace mocked in a whisper. "Your friends can't help you now."

A rope braided of magic-resistant material was coiled around Grimhilde's arm; she removed it and tied it tightly around Xander, binding his limbs.

The door burst open, Luna's horn glowing as Riku raised his sword in a battle-ready position. "LET HIM GO!" Riku yelled.

"I don't think we will," the Dark Ace responded, his own blade lighting up.

With a yell, Riku surged toward the Dark Ace, his sword clashing against the Inferno blade. The noise was loud enough to wake everyone else in the block, and soon, Aladdin, Nora, Ren, and Nick were outside the door, their own weapons in hand.

Grimhilde knew she and the Dark Ace were outmatched for the moment. "Follow me!" she commanded, dismissing the Corridor she'd used to enter and opening a new one.

The Dark Ace slashed out at Riku, forcing him to jump back a step, before scooping up the struggling Xander in the crook of his arm. Suddenly struck by inspiration, Riku darted forward, intending to land a very specific blow. The Dark Ace was caught off guard as Riku struck, making a small tear in his clothing, just over his stomach. He could feel a tiny rivulet of blood dripping down.

Grimhilde had already disappeared into the Corridor, Diablo clutching her shoulder tightly. The Dark Ace turned and dashed after her, taking the helpless Xander with him. The Corridor began to fade.

But Luna reached out to it with magic, forcing it to remain open and betray the escape route the villains had used. "Go now!" she commanded. "Follow them!"

Riku, Aladdin, Nora, Ren, and Nick charged into the Darkness, and once she was certain all were through, Luna followed.

...

The other side of Grimhilde's Corridor opened up into a jarringly different landscape. For one, while it had been nighttime in Radiant Garden, it was noon on this world, the sun at its apex in a bright blue sky. For another, Riku and his companions were surrounded by tropical vegetation. Riku was reminded of the Destiny Islands, though he was sure if that was where he had been taken, he would know. The sound of the ocean was audible in one direction and the vague noises of civilization and people enjoying the outdoors emanated from another.

"Where are we?" Nora wondered out loud. She turned to Luna. "You brought us here. Any ideas?"
"Not a clue," Luna admitted, shaking her head.

"She's gone!" Nick growled as he scanned the surrounding forest. "Stop just standing around staring at everything! We have to find Xander!"

"We don't even know if he's on this world," Ren pointed out. "They could have made another portal as soon as we showed up."

"Well, we can't just give up!" Aladdin emphasized.

"We aren't going to," Riku insisted. "I might have a way we can track where they are. I'm not sure how to use it, though."

"What are you talking about?" Nora asked.

"When Sora and I were sabotaged by Xehanort during the Mark of Mastery exam," Riku explained, "Xehanort put a symbol on Sora that he could use to spy on him. An 'X' he called the 'Recusant's Sigil.' When I was fighting that swordsman, I remembered it, and I cut an X into him. Just a small one. I knew he was going to make an escape, and I thought it might give us a way to keep track of him. But I don't know how to use the Sigil to find him."

"I do," Luna broke in. "The Recusant's Sigil is a spell that is often forbidden among those who use Dark magic. It is seen as an intrusion of privacy. But in this case, I agree it was necessary. A small mark made in the skin with a sword will be hard to track, and it will heal quickly. But I can at the very least tell you whether or not the swordsman is still on this world, and perhaps even pinpoint which world he did escape to at last."

"So do it!" Nick growled.

"There's no use getting angry," Ren told him softly.

Luna closed her eyes, reaching out to sense familiar magic. At the edges of her perception, a faint beacon pulsed.

"The swordsman has not left this world," Luna informed the others, "but I cannot tell which way he has gone or where he and the sorceress are currently hiding."

"Then let's start looking," Aladdin suggested. "If they haven't left this world, they can't have gone too far, right?"

"Maybe we should check out where all that noise is coming from," Nora suggested.

Riku shook his head. "They won't have gone where there are people. They'll be hiding. We should search the forest first. If we don't find them there, then we'll follow the sound."

It was agreed upon that this was a good plan, and into the forest they ventured.

...

Alibert's pub was packed with guests, most of whose orders proved them to have voracious appetites. The proprietor's adopted son, Yugo, was kept busy in the kitchen, chopping vegetables, frying up meat, and dishing it all out over rice.

Cooking helped him keep his thoughts in order. When he was at work in front of the oven, he could rationally consider the recent quarrel he'd had with his brother Adamaï, the one that had caused the latter to storm away with someone Yugo wasn't entirely convinced wasn't evil. He could also rationally consider the feelings he harbored for one of his dearest friends…but found himself unable to act upon, as over the past few years, she had aged as most people do, but Yugo's own body had not, keeping him a child. It was something that came with the territory of being one of the ancient race of Eliatropes: they simply didn't age at the same rate as any other race on the World of Twelve.

Dishing out the next batch of orders, including five plates of various combinations of fish, rice, noodles, and cabbage, Yugo found his mood pleasantly improved by the smell of the perfectly prepared food. Thinking about the loss of his brother or the pining of his heart took a back seat. He didn't even have to be the world's hero. He could just be a cook's assistant.

"Order's up!" he cried as he exited the kitchen, bearing the five plates on a tray. He tossed the first plate at its intended table with a flourish.

"Got it!" the recipient, a teenage boy with spiky brown hair, remarked as he caught the plate of fish and rice.

Yugo spun a 360 before tossing the next plate, a spiced mixture of rice and vegetables; it landed neatly before a tall young woman with long, dark hair. A third plate, this one loaded with a filet of meat over noodles, landed in front of a teenage girl with dark brown hair tinted with red; she squealed at the sight of the food.

Yugo had to admit he had never seen anyone of either race of the last two people at the table. But on the World of Twelve, one saw all sorts, so he didn't give it much mind. To the one who appeared to be an animate skeleton, he lobbed a bowl of oatmeal. Then, targeted at the one with green skin and long, dark hair shrouding his face, Yugo let a plate of vegetables, heavy on cabbage, fly.

The oatmeal skidded gently into place in front of its customer. The vegetables, however, smacked right into the green man's face. As the plate slid to the floor and the food with it, Yugo could see very plainly that the man was not amused.

All the same, Yugo had to laugh. "Four out of five is better than I usually do! Sorry about that. I'll be back with another plate, on the house!" He disappeared into the kitchen.

Ruby bit her lip to keep from laughing as Stork picked peppers out of his hair. "Well, this is a great start," Stork sighed.

"Hopefully he'll just bring our food up to the table this time," Jasmine replied. "In the meantime, we won't eat until you get your food. It wouldn't be fair."

Ruby had a bite of noodles – the closest thing she could find to order to ramen – halfway to her mouth. She set down her fork, pouting a little.

"So has anyone thought of where we should even start LOOKING for Mozenrath?" Stork asked. "This is a pretty big world. We could spend years here trying to find him and not know what he's up to until it's too late."

"Mozenrath isn't hard to figure out," Jasmine told him. "If we find the most powerful magic in this world, he'll be after it."

"And hopefully, we can intercept him before he does too much damage," Sora stated.

"How badly does Mozenrath usually mess things up once he finds powerful magic?" Ruby asked.

"That depends on what he finds," Jasmine explained. "If it's a weapon, he's definitely going to use it to threaten powerful people into giving him what he wants."

"SO HOW ARE WE GOING TO FIND OUT WHAT POWERFUL MAGIC HE COULD BE AFTER?" Papyrus asked.

"Maybe we could ask?" Ruby suggested.

"Great idea," Stork replied sarcastically. "We'll just pick a person in this room and ask them, 'So, what incredibly powerful magical item could a maniacal evildoer potentially use to destroy the entire world?'."

"THAT'S A GREAT IDEA!" Papyrus cried, not catching the sarcasm. As Yugo, who admittedly had caught the latter snippet of the conversation as he approached the table with Stork's replacement order, drew near, Papyrus turned to him and said cheerfully, "THANK YOU FOR BRINGING US THIS DELICIOUS FOOD! IF YOU DON'T MIND, COULD YOU PLEASE TELL US WHAT INCREDIBLY POWERFUL MAGICAL ITEM A MANIACAL EVILDOER COULD POTENTIALLY USE TO DESTROY THE ENTIRE WORLD?"

Yugo had enjoyed taking a break from being the world's hero. But when it sounded to him as though his world was in danger again, he knew he couldn't refuse the call. "Is the World of Twelve in danger?" he asked.

"No!" Ruby said defensively.

"Yes," Stork stated. "It's doomed."

"May…be?" Sora contributed.

"There might be a small problem," Jasmine clarified. "We're trying to stop it before it turns into a big problem."

"What's going on?" Yugo asked. "Maybe I can help! I know what you're probably looking for is in the Sadida Kingdom. That's where most of the world's most powerful magic is kept." Aside from certain dofus, he thought, but he had no idea where the dragons who acted as their guardians had taken those, and that probably meant whatever villain these five were trying to head off didn't know either.

"THANK YOU FOR THE ADVICE," Papyrus told Yugo, "BUT WE CAN TAKE IT FROM HERE. WE ARE TRAINED PROFESSIONALS WHEN IT COMES TO FIGHTING EVIL! WE WOULDN'T WANT SOMEONE LIKE YOU TO GET HURT!"

"I've fought a lot of evil too," Yugo insisted. "You might not have known this from looking at me, but…I'm actually Yugo the Eliatrope."

He expected the name to be met with recognition. Instead, it was met with five blank stares.

"You…don't know my name, do you?" Yugo realized. "But I thought everyone in the World of Twelve had heard of…" He trailed off, his mind running wild. "Unless…you're not from…?"

"We're definitely not from around the area," Ruby informed him. "It's a long story."

"WHAT HEROIC FEATS HAVE YOU DONE?" Papyrus asked.

"Well…" Yugo puffed out his chest a little. "I stopped Nox the Xelor from sapping the Wakfu of the Sadida Kingdom and killing everyone in it. Then I stopped Qilby the mad Eliatrope from destroying our world. I would take credit for stopping the demon Rushu, too, but that was all my friends."

"You've always gotta be able to rely on good friends when you're fighting evil," Sora said with a nod. "Maybe you can help us!"

"We don't know the way to the Sadida Kingdom," Jasmine admitted. "Could you show us the way?"

"Of course!" Yugo said enthusiastically. "My friend Ruel can drive us there! I just have to let my papa know I'm going." Without a further word, he turned and dashed from the table.

Jasmine grinned. "I think we made a friend."

"GOOD," Papyrus commented.

"Isn't he a bit young?" Stork asked worriedly.

"Aren't Ruby and I a bit young?" Sora rebutted.

"Can I eat now?" Ruby whimpered.

"Well, we've all got our plates now, so let's dig in!" Sora suggested, and the quintet did so happily.

As Yugo raced through the kitchen, a small bird chirped to observe him passing by. "It's another adventure, Az!" Yugo called out to the bird. "Are you coming with?"

Az gave an enthusiastic peep and followed.

Yugo found a tall, thickset and bearded man deeper back in the kitchens, placing bread dough in the oven. "Papa!" he greeted Alibert.

"Yugo!" Alibert replied, noticing his son's aura of exuberance. "What's got you all excited?"

"I'm going to the Sadida Kingdom," Yugo explained. "The World of Twelve might be in trouble again. I think they need me."

This gave Alibert pause. "Who needs you?"

"They're adventurers from far away," Yugo explained.

"I don't know how I feel about this," Alibert admitted. "It feels like you only just came home after the quest for the Dofus. Maybe you should take a break, the way Ruel has."

"Ruel can afford to take a break," Yugo explained. "So can Pinpin and Eva. I know they said no more adventures for a while. Ruel is just an ordinary Enutrof, and ever since Pinpin gave up his powers, he and Eva are an ordinary Iop and ordinary Cra. But I'm the Eliatrope king. I don't think I can turn it down when I'm supposed to help. It's my responsibility." He paused. "I may need Ruel to help drive to the Sadida Kingdom, if he's willing to do it."

"You will have to ask him about that," Alibert sighed. "I suppose there's no stopping you from going, is there?"

"I'm sorry – "

"No, no, no." Alibert stepped away from the oven, bending down to meet his son's eye. "Do not apologize. I want you to stay safe, but I also want you to follow your heart. If you must go…then I give you my blessing."

"Thanks, Papa," Yugo said with a smile.

"But if it turns out the real danger is these adventurers," Alibert said sternly, "promise me you will get yourself to safety immediately."

"I will, Papa!"

Yugo rushed back out to where the quintet of heroes was finishing up the dregs of their food. "Ready when you are!" he announced.

"So who's this friend that's driving us?" Sora asked.

...

Ruel Stroud folded his arms decisively. "Absolutely not."

"But how else are we going to get to the Sadida Kingdom without your help?" Yugo asked. He and his five new companions stood outside the Enutrof's house, where a strange contraption shaped like a locomotive engine with a drill at its front end was parked.

"Do you even know for sure that there is a threat to the World of Twelve?" Ruel questioned.

"Yes!" Ruby insisted. "We saw it in…" She wasn't sure how to describe the hourglass. "Well…a reliable source said it was here!"

"A reliable source, huh?" Ruel raised a brow, staring Ruby down. "Have you actually seen evidence?"

"Not yet," Ruby admitted.

"Then I'm sitting this one out," Ruel insisted. "Call me when you're sure. Until then, I'm not getting dragged on another adventure without any money to be gained from it!" He sighed. "But you can take that if you want it." He motioned toward the odd vehicle.

"WOWIE!" Papyrus cried. "THANKS! I, THE GREAT PAPYRUS, WILL GLADLY VOLUNTEER TO DRIVE…BUT I HAVE THE FEELING SOMEONE ELSE MIGHT WANT TO. AUDIBLE WINK!"

"You know me well," Stork said, pleased. "It's no airship, but I wouldn't mind giving it a spin."

"This all just sounds like a wild tofu chase to me," Ruel huffed. "Good luck, all the same."

"Thank you!" Yugo told him. "Hopefully, you're right, and we shouldn't have any problems."
"Hopefully," Ruel agreed, wondering if deep down, he was so skeptical because he simply didn't want to think about another terrible threat that could put him or Yugo in danger. He ultimately decided it was better not to pursue that train of thought too far, and as the party of now six approached the train, Ruel muttered to himself about traveling adventurers and their tall tales.

The vehicle was no airship, it was true. But Stork found the controls maneuverable, and in very little time, he had the vehicle moving rather smoothly, picking up speed as it exited the town borders. "Where to first?" Stork asked.

"Turn a bit that way – yes – yes, now we're on the right course," Yugo replied. "The path stays straight for a while. In the meantime, I want to know who this great evil is we're trying to stop!"

"His name is Mozenrath," Sora replied. "We've been running into him and his friends for a while. It's kind of a long story."

"That's the second time you've said that," Yugo pointed out. "I would like to hear this long story, if you can tell it."

Sora, Ruby, Stork, and Jasmine all paused, trying to decide how much to share with their new companion. Papyrus, however, had no such inhibitions. "DO YOU KNOW MUCH ABOUT OTHER WORLDS?" he asked.

Yugo nodded. "My people came from one. Is that what you meant by not being from around here?"

The others all nodded.

Yugo's face lit up. "Tell me all about the world you're from!" he begged. "Please! I want to hear all about it!"

"Well, that's the thing," Sora admitted. "We're not all from the same world."

"Even better!" Yugo chirped.

"We'll tell you about our adventures," Jasmine resolved, "if you tell us about yours."

Yugo beamed. "It's a deal!"

...

No one was really happy with the way Vexen had taken charge of the base since the core WHAM ARMY had departed. He preferred to remain shut up in the laboratory, but ventured out just long enough to give orders about the maintenance of the base, which no one felt like actually carrying out. And for all Vexen cared about upkeep, he never seemed to want to do any of it himself, doling it all out to his teammates while he occupied himself with his experiments.

Garfield trudged into the lab to give Vexen a progress report on what he'd been assigned. "I cleaned all the crud off the bottom of the ship like you asked."

"Good," Vexen said without looking up from his work. "Who knows what detritus we've picked up floating through interspace? Left unchecked, it could give us problems that go beyond the cosmetic. Now, you are romantically involved with Peter Merkel, are you not? I haven't been able to locate him, and I need someone to dust out the air ducts."

"Actually, he stowed away on the big guys' mission," Garfield informed Vexen.

"And you know this how?"

"Because he's been planning it forever. He wanted to get out of the base. And now that I see what the current mission is of everyone who got left behind, kinda wishing I'd gone with him."

"Hmph," Vexen huffed. "I suppose the ventilation system can wait."

Garfield almost didn't want to show Vexen what he'd discovered during his cleaning, but he had no other way of figuring out exactly what it was. "I actually found something stuck to the side of the ship out there and thought maybe you could tell me how many figures it'd fetch."

That got Vexen to look up, albeit in a disgruntled fashion. "And what, pray tell, could you have found in the detritus stuck to the ship that could be of any value?"

Garfield extended his hand. In it lay what appeared to be a blue gem with a core of radiating light. Part of the stone seemed broken away, revealing a jagged piece of otherworldly ore, thin and bent like a lightning strike's shape.

Vexen flinched. "DROP THAT IMMEDIATELY!"

Startled, Garfield let the gem fall to the floor.

"What were you THINKING?" Vexen barked. "Holding a star shard in your hand like that!" He retrieved a pair of tongs with which he removed the shard from the floor in order to set it up on a high shelf.

"Well, sor-ry," Garfield huffed. "What's the big deal about it?"

"Star material is an unreliable method of inter-world travel at best," Vexen explained. "When in contact with one, one risks taking an unexpected journey to an unknown location at any time. You're lucky you weren't transported a hundred worlds away simply by carrying that shard in here." He left the shard on the shelf. "There would be no way to get you back from that, but knowing Mozenrath, he would put ME in charge of retrieving you."

"So I'm guessing we're not finding a good black market to hawk it," Garfield sighed.

"No," Vexen said sourly. "We most certainly are not. I am keeping it here in case it proves useful in my work. But it is far too dangerous for any of the rest of you to handle."

"But when YOU use it, it's fine, right?"

"I have devoted decades of study to handling such volatile magical materials. You didn't even believe in the existence of magic until a few short days ago."

"Y'know, if that thing ends up stuffing YOU a hundred worlds away, I don't think I'd actually miss you," Garfield grunted.

Vexen gave a slight snort in reply. He had heard such insults many, many times, but he still didn't appreciate the disrespect. "What is the condition of the bathrooms in the central quadrant?"

"The BATHROOMS? Are you KIDDING me?"
"I most certainly am not," Vexen said dryly. "We are interdimensional criminals. That does not mean we have to live in filth. Report back to me when the toilets in the central quadrant have been scrubbed."

"You suck."

"So I've been told."

Garfield took his leave, thoroughly done with chores for the day and fully willing to see how long it took Vexen to notice that the bathrooms would be left unattended to all day.

No sooner had he gone than Xerxes, still bearing his new collar, came floating into the laboratory, looking for some means of entertainment while Mozenrath (and, for that matter, Snatcher, who he could usually count on to sneak him extra treats) was absent. "What Vexen doing?" he asked.

"None of your concern," Vexen snorted as his eyes were planted firmly on his work once more. "Leave."

"But Xerxes bored – "

"I said LEAVE!" Vexen swatted at Xerxes; he would have struck if Xerxes had not been faster.

Xerxes, pouting, floated up to the shelf above Vexen and curled up there, trying to think of what he could do to kill time. The star shard caught his eye; it radiated with its own light, sparkling enticingly. "What this…?" Xerxes muttered as he scooted closer to it. The shard almost seemed to beckon. Xerxes, not wanting to refuse the call, clamped his jaws around it, ready to claim it as his own and ferret it off to some secret place.

The shard activated in Xerxes' mouth, spiriting him out of the base altogether.

Vexen never noticed, for at that moment, the lights flickered. It was, in fact, a hiccup in the power that ran through the entire ship. Vexen wondered if this might be cause for alarm, and, knowing it was worth abandoning his work to know, set out to find the source.

...

As Mozenrath and his companions found their place in the line outside the wall, it became apparent that the line was leading up to a gate, and that gate was guarded by a tollbooth. An entry fee was required to gain access to what was beyond.

"We could incapacitate the man in the tollbooth easily," the Huntsman whispered.

"Or we could glamour our way in with some fake coins," Mim suggested.

"Still got the compass," Roman reminded the group. "So we're gonna deal with this my way."

"And that is?" Mozenrath asked.

"Watch and be amazed," Roman replied. In a louder tone, he said, "Hold my place in line, will you? I juuuuuust remembered I forgot something." He turned around, colliding with the person behind him. "Oh, I am SO sorry! You'll have to excuse me! I'm a klutz."

And a wallet discreetly slipped from that traveler's pocket into Roman's.

Roman managed to "accidentally" run into several more unsuspecting people, collecting their purses and wallets without their knowledge. By the time he returned to the group, they had reached the tollbooth.

"Nine tickets to entry, please," Roman said smoothly, placing well in excess of the entry fee on the counter.

The tickets were forked over, and the group was beckoned forth. "And we've got pocket money left over," Roman whispered.

Small cars, reminiscent of rollercoaster cars, were setting out on tracks. In preparation for the larger group, a car that could fit nine (technically, eight, but as the group settled in, Ragdoll folded himself up on the floor around the others' feet, and no one complained) was rolled out.

The car took the nine on a trip up, up, and up, to a point where they could finally get a good look at what lay within the walls. It was a haphazardly built city swathed in shades of orange and dark red, buildings stacked to the heavens and strewn about in streets that were only slightly less convoluted than those of the City of Old Emperors. The sight was breathtaking as seen from so far above.

"I don't know what it is," Roman observed, "but something about this place just looks…right. Like we belong here."

"The architect of these tracks certainly shares Yzma's penchant for amusement rides," Snatcher commented. "All it's missing is a drop."

"You were saying?" Aghoul gestured forward, to where the car was about to reach a peak just before a steep plunge.

"I don't like this," Mozenrath practically whimpered.

"Really?" Yzma said rather excitedly. "Because I think whoever designed this city was an absolute genius!"

As the car tipped, Mozenrath complained, "No, whoever thought a rollercoaster was a good method of transit deserves to be – "

The car plunged, and Mozenrath's threat was lost in a scream.

Yzma simply sat and enjoyed the ride in silence. It was much faster and more satisfying than the laboratory entrance rollercoaster. The experience could have been much improved without the squalling of her comrades, who apparently were used to much tamer rides. Mim and Aghoul were of course whooping with glee the whole way down. The Huntsman was trying his best to bite back his own scream, but a few strangled whimpers escaped. Mozenrath was pressed back into his seat at high velocity, going almost bloodless. Snatcher, without even really being conscious of what he was doing, clamped his arms around Roman in a vise-grip; Roman clutched right back at him as the pair screamed in the most on-pitch harmony they'd ever been able to accomplish. Wuya didn't scream or even flinch; she did, however, grunt "NO you don't" when Ragdoll was flung out of the car completely, reaching up to seize him by the ankle and pull him along like a waving flag.

Then the car reached the ground level and slowed to a more leisurely pace, giving its occupants time to get over their sudden shock.

"Now, THAT was a ride," Yzma commented, satisfied.

"It wasn't bad," Wuya agreed, flicking her wrist and slamming Ragdoll back down into the car right across her and Yzma's laps. "Just don't make me change the laboratory coaster to have a steeper drop."

"Eh, the lab is fine. Can't have too much of a good thing, after all," Yzma mused.

"It was exhilarating, was it?" Ragdoll commented. "Near-death experience notwithstanding. Actually, partially BECAUSE of the near-death experience."

"I wanted a near-death experience," Aghoul pouted.

"You're already dead, sweetie," Mim reminded him.

Snatcher realized he was still holding tightly to Roman as though for dear life. He quickly let go, straightening up in his seat. "That never happened and we aren't to speak of it," he insisted, not wanting to admit how panicked a simple rollercoaster had made him.

But as much as he wanted to protect his ego, there was one who wished to protect his own more. "I saw you do nothing," the Huntsman grunted. "Just as I did and said nothing." He turned to Mozenrath, who was still frozen with wide eyes. "Are you all right – "

"WE ARE NEVER DOING THAT AGAIN," Mozenrath growled.

Now that the car had slowed, it was taking a course through the city, showing off the urban underbelly. Roman's instinct had been correct: it was a hive for villains. Vendors stood out front of their shops, calling out advertisements for assassinations, weaponry, and potions and poisons of every kind.

"What did you say about us having some spending money?" Mim asked. "I see quite a few things of interest." She giggled as they passed a knife vendor.

"Believe me," Roman told her, "I want literally all of the stuff we're looking at. Is that a flaming harpoon gun? Yeah, I want a flaming harpoon gun. But right now, we're looking for information. We need to figure out just how far we're going with this compass, and the best way to do that is to get in with the seediest crowd we can find. We're looking for a bar. Bars attract bad guys like rotten fruit attracts flies. Also, I could use a drink."

Another salesman advertised potions that could temporarily change one's entire appearance, giving a glamour of being stronger, thinner, or taller. "It's adorable how some people actually need potions for that," Mim cooed.

The salesman went on to say that the potion could actually give one the appearance of another gender. "That's still cheating," Snatcher muttered.

The car halted after some time, and the nine passengers disembarked. It didn't take them long to find a tavern filled to the brim with hulking thugs armed with knives and guns. "This'll be the place," Roman announced. "SOMEONE here has to know what's worth stealing in this world. And look!" He held up the compass. "It's pointing right here. This thing knows what's up." He strode confidently into the tavern, and the others held their heads up high and followed.

The sound of very loud and off-key karaoke sounded from the corner. The bar at the far end of the building was crowded by people of all shapes and sizes, with only two barstools empty. The clientele muttered to each other about the multicolored crowd that had just walked in. For one, Wuya, Mim, and Yzma were the only women in the whole building; men sized up their attractiveness and whispered lewd suggestions. For another, no one could seem to tell whether or not Ragdoll was an underdressed Xelor.

In the corner, one man, thin and pale, took a swig from a pint glass, which he then set delicately on the table. "Look at this crowd," he observed. "They just don't seem like they fit in, do they? Look at that man in blue. What kind of idiot walks around Brakmar wearing something that shows off how rich he is?"

A fluffy black cat sat on the other end of the table, his tail twitching. "Are you thinking what I'm thinking?" the cat asked.

The pale man, dressed all in black, grinned. "Easy pickings to rob."

"Okay, first order, we hit up the bartender," Roman commanded. "See what he knows. Only two stools open. Righty, you with me?"

"I guess," Mozenrath said with a shrug.

As Roman and Mozenrath made their way to the bar, the others glanced around the tavern for ways to occupy themselves. Wuya, Mim, and Yzma all locked eyes upon the karaoke stage. They then glanced among themselves, needing only a nod to confirm their synchronized desire.

Roman smacked a handful of coins onto the bar. "One beer," he ordered. "And one…whaddaya want, Righty? My treat."

Mozenrath knew he wasn't much of one for alcohol. The smell of beer was already overwhelming him and making him slightly sick to his stomach. Besides, he wasn't about to let Roman get him in a state where he didn't have his wits about him, not when he didn't fully trust the man. "I'll just take a coffee," he said. "Black."

"WHOA, whoa, whoa!" Roman put up his hands. "You don't wanna do that."

"And why not?" Mozenrath raised a brow. "Are you trying to tell me what I can and can't order? That compass doesn't give you THAT much power over me."

Roman then decided he might as well throw caution to the wind. "Hey, what the hell? We're having fun. One beer and one black coffee. If nothing else, this should be entertaining." As he waited for the drinks to be delivered, Roman produced a cigarette and a lighter from his pockets and lit one up.

"You seem used to this," Mozenrath told him.

"Well, this is a little more extreme than I'm used to," Roman told him. "I'm generally more of a back-alley skulker kind of guy. It's pretty nice to have all the unsavories out in the open." He inhaled deeply from the cigarette.

"I've heard those can kill you," Mozenrath said.

"And we both know THAT can kill you." Roman tapped Mozenrath's gauntlet twice.

"Touché," Mozenrath replied. "You…don't use any magic at all?"
"Nah," Roman answered. "Never needed it. I survive based on my strength and, more importantly, my wits."

"That begs the question of how you're still alive."

"Ha, ha. Real funny, Righty. No, all I really need is my Aura. Cleans up the minor wounds and all. Semblance comes in handy every once in a while, too."

"Your…semblance? What's that?"

"That is a secret," Roman informed Mozenrath. "I like to keep 'em guessing."

Drinks were laid before the pair. Mozenrath immediately set into his coffee, while Roman slid another coin across the table, his finger lingering on it. "Y'know, we're from out of town," he said, "and we were wondering what the sights were that we needed to see. Seven wonders of the world and all. My friend and I have a particular interest in magic."

"Tell somebody who cares," the bartender grunted.

Roman took his finger off the coin, then added four more. "Time magic, actually, if you want to get specific."

"You wanna know something about time magic?" The bartender scooped up all the coins. He then leaned in close to Roman and whispered, "I don't give a rat's tail about time magic."

Roman removed the cigarette from his lips and blew a cloud of smoke directly into the bartender's face.

The man backed off, hustling to serve patrons who wouldn't hassle him. "I see you have a way with people," Mozenrath teased.

"He didn't know anything," Roman sighed. "Trust me. At least one of the people in this fine establishment is gonna talk. We just have to figure out who. In the meantime…" He took a deep draught from his beer, smacking his lips. "Hits the spot."

Across the room, Wuya, Yzma, and Mim's names were called for karaoke. The trio hit the stage and began to belt out an anthem about murder and robbery in perfect three-part harmony.

"Is this what we do for fun?" Mozenrath asked.

"Drink, sing, and harass people?" Roman replied. "Pretty much. It must be killing you that you don't know the half of anything about us, isn't it?"

Mozenrath silently, bitterly sipped his coffee.

"Look," Roman told him, "I can explain things better if you want. What would you rather hear: the amazing tales of my dashing exploits or my interpretation of your various neuroses?"

"I want to hear about both you and me," Mozenrath stated.

"Whoa!" Roman teased. "A little forward, aren't you there, Righty? I'm a taken man!"

"You know what I meant."

"Okay, point number one: you have no sense of humor. None."

Mozenrath nodded. "Sounds about right."

They continued to drink from their respective vessels as the trio of women continued their song. After Yzma, Wuya, and Mim finished off one number, the crowd begged for an encore, and they indulged.

The pale man dressed in black and the cat who accompanied him were entranced by the three sirens. The man at first had his eye on Wuya in particular. "Now, there's a woman," he commented. "Bet I can sweet-talk that redhead."

"Keep dreaming," the cat snarked. "You might have a pretty face, but open your mouth and all three of them would spit in your eye."

"Hey!" the man snapped. "I have charm and you know it."

"I also know I see a better score than the redhead," the cat pointed out. "See what's tied around the fat woman's waist?"

The pale man took note of Mim's enchanted purse, which bounced along with her as she bopped to the music. Even without knowing its magical properties, he perceived the purse to be fat, most likely loaded with money.

As soon as his eyes alit upon it, so did those of his weapons, and a chorus of voices went up in commentary:

"How much you think she's carrying?"
"Could be one of US in that purse. Now that'd be a twist."

"Now I'll be disappointed if it's just money."

"HEY!" the pale man snapped. "Nobody asked your opinions! Though if she DOES have a Shushu in that purse…" He grinned, now having convinced himself of the idea that the enchanted purse contained one of the magical items that bore a demon of immense power within it. One way or another, he was going to get a look inside that purse.

Meanwhile, Roman kept regaling Mozenrath with stories both of Mozenrath and of himself. He got progressively drunker while Mozenrath got progressively more caffeinated. "Yeah…I sing. All the…all the time. Aaaaaaaall the time. Except people tell me I'm baaaaaad at it? I'm not bad at it. Especially not when I'm Fiammetta. Fiammetta is the gooooood shit."

"Well?" Mozenrath asked, the coffee taking its toll. "Wellwellwell? I'm not just going to take your WORD for it. Sing! Sing for me right now! I SAID RIGHT NOW!"

"Okay," Roman hiccupped. "It's a cruel, cruel world, all you little boys and girls, and some mean, nasty people want to eat you for their sup – "

Mozenrath burst out laughing far too loudly. "You are TERRIBLE."

"Hang on…no. I did it wrong. See, I have to be wearing the dress. That's how Archie does it. That Archie, he's…he's a sexy beast."

"Well," Mozenrath remarked, his voice speeding up the longer he went, "he isn't really my type, but I suppose beauty is in the eye of the beholder, which, granted, isn't something I would have thought applied to him, but then I actually saw you two around the base together and while I generally find your public displays of affection disgusting, you apparently have some kind of chemistry, and looking at you almost makes me jealous that I don't have somebody like that for myself, though really, that would probably just be more of a hindrance than anything, and did I just tell you that I was jealous of you? Because I wasn't supposed to tell you that. After all, I still don't really trust you, aaaaand I wasn't supposed to tell you that either." He turned the coffee cup upside-down. "I think I need a refill."

It was Roman's turn to laugh too loudly for too long. "Y'know…Righty…" He leaned forward, clapping a hand on Mozenrath's shoulder. "You're all right. And I don't mean…I don't mean right like the hand. I mean like…you're good people. Nooooooooo…you're bad people. That's why I like ya. It's why we get along. You…you wanna take over shit and boss people around, and I wanna steal shit on fire and set shit. I mean set shit on fire and steal shit. Yeah. How…many of these have I had?" He turned his own glass upside-down before setting it next to several brothers. (Mozenrath, by contrast, had only had one cup of coffee.) "But that's how come we work. I'll set shit on steal for you – on fire for you, I mean – and you run things so I don't get arrested for it."

"Well, assuming the things you've told me tonight are true," Mozenrath replied, "which I almost have to, since you're drunk enough that I could ask you your most embarrassing secret and you'd tell me the truth – "

"I fucked Mercury Black once. Thassit. Thassthesecret. I hate it. He's hot, but he's…ew. No."

" – anyway, point proven – "

"Do NOT tell Archie."

"All right, I swear I won't tell your boyfriend about your past affairs, though really, you'd think that would be something you'd tell him about, but then again, you probably haven't even told him your semblance either, and I'm getting off track. Anyway, from what you've told me about me, combined with what you've told me about you, we do seem compatibly rotten. And everything you've told me about me sounds right so far, even though I don't actually believe any of what you've said about me and coffee. I've been drinking coffee this whole time, and I'm fine." His left hand was twitching. "You, on the other hand, are a mess."

"Am not." Roman planted another cigarette in his mouth, but fumbled with the lighter, clicking it fruitlessly thrice in a row.

Mozenrath pressed his right index finger to the end of the cigarette. The tobacco immediately began to smolder. Mozenrath lowered his hand.

"Thanks, buddy," Roman said earnestly.

"No," Mozenrath replied. "Thank you. For informing me that apparently, I have a love-hate relationship with karaoke and a nemesis with a genie." Mozenrath still had trouble comprehending that he had a nemesis he didn't even know about. "Among, of course, other things. I do wonder if the story would be altered if it came from any of the others, given that perception is relative, but really, didn't we get off track a long time ago? Aren't you supposed to be asking around for information?"

"Right!" Roman turned to the man in the barstool next to him. "Hey, you. Got a couple questions for ya…" He held up a coin. "About…tourism. Yeah, tourism. Friends and I are visiting, and we wanna know where to go if we want to see some real time magic." He produced a few more coins, inserting one between each pair of fingers to sweeten the deal.

"Time magic, huh?" the man replied. "Maybe I know something about that. Maybe I know about something that's generally considered a fool's errand to even think about stealing. Are you a fool?"

"No," Roman said, surprisingly smoothly given his level of intoxication, "but tell me anyway."

"Surprised you don't already know," the man stated. "The incident was pretty famous. If you don't even know what I'm talking about, then you really are a fool."

Mozenrath dropped off the barstool, his confidence surging with caffeine. "Stop insulting me and my friend," he growled, "and get to the point."

"Oh, I will," the man promised. "For…fifty kamas."

Roman rifled around in his pockets, but before he could pick out the proper amount of money, Mozenrath intervened, striding up to the man and grabbing the front of his shirt. "YOU'RE GOING TO MAKE WHAT YOU'RE TALKING ABOUT CRYSTAL CLEAR," he threatened, "OR I'M GOING TO MAKE YOU WISH I WOULD JUST KILL YOU QUICKLY."

"Okay, okaaaaay, Righty," Roman cautioned, "there's…there's no need to make a scene…I'll just pay the man, and – "

"You have until three to TALK," Mozenrath growled. "ONE."

The man laughed. "And you think a skinny, pretty boy like you can actually take me? If he's a fool, you're an idiot."

"FORGET IT!" Mozenrath's rage channeled into a blast of pure energy that sent the man flying across the room and bowling over a crowded table.

"WHOA!" Roman yelled, awed. Then he let out a bit of a chuckle.

Several other men stood up. "That was one of us," a particularly tall and burly man said. "You messed with the wrong crew."

"No, YOU messed with the wrong crew," Mozenrath insisted as he climbed up onto the counter of the bar. "DOES ANYONE ELSE WANT A PIECE OF US?"

"Ehhh, fuck it." Roman climbed up on the bar next to Mozenrath, brandishing the Cudgel. "Got your back, Righty."

He and Mozenrath looked to each other, then gave a synchronized nod.

Peace might still have been achieved if Ragdoll, caught up in the spirit of things, hadn't chosen that moment to yell "BAR FIGHT!" and smash a pint glass into the back of the head of a patron who had absolutely nothing to do with the scene.

Pandemonium ensued.

Fists flew; magic seared through the air. Wuya backflipped off the stage in order to deal out a series of hard kicks to the brawlers of the tavern. Aghoul spiced things up by lobbing some well-placed skull-shaped bombs into the mix. Ragdoll stood still until a particular opponent drew close, then deftly twisted to stand behind the man, bending over backward and punching his adversary's pressure points. Mim decided to keep it fun for herself by not breaking out magic just yet and instead simply using her fists to deck men twice her size. Yzma simply clambered behind the bar and threw bottles out at long-range targets. The Huntsman twirled his staff, sending three men flying at once. Snatcher brained a man with his mallet.

And in the center of it all, Mozenrath and Roman stood back-to-back, laughing maniacally as they fired magic from one end and incendiary ammunition from the other.

The fight was about fifty versus nine, and the nine were winning.

The pale man, with the cat perched upon his shoulder, ducked and slithered through the crowd, knowing now was his chance. He waited until Mim was occupied with punching another thug, then reached out and grabbed the enchanted purse, spinning on a heel and charging out of the tavern with it.

Mim had felt the tug of the purse coming loose. "THIEF!" she suddenly cried. "HE'S STOLEN MY PURSE!" She bolted after him, heading for the door. "He…will…PAY!"

By that time, Mozenrath, Roman, Snatcher, the Huntsman, Aghoul, Wuya, Yzma, and Ragdoll had knocked out pretty much everyone else anyway, so they decided to follow Mim and the action right out the door.

The thief, one Rémington Smisse, scrambled up onto the rooftop of the nearest building and hopped from structure to structure into the heart of the city, undoing the purse strings as he ran. "Now, let's see what we've picked up…" As he opened the purse, his eyes widened.

"Let me see!" The cat, or, more accurately, Rémington's human brother Grany in the form of a cat, craned his neck to get a look. "Let me see! …What is that?"

"It's…full of miniatures," Rémington observed, ducking into an empty alley. "Tiny tables, tiny chairs…this stuff isn't valuable!" He removed one such "tiny table" and rocked it between his fingers. "This was a waste of time!"

He chucked the table to the roof he stood on, at which point it expanded to its full size, revealing itself not only to be a perfectly functioning table but one with a marble top and ornately carved legs with gargoyle-head patterns: a relic Mim had picked up on an adventure long in the past because she knew the owners would dearly miss it. The rafters of the roof groaned under the weight of the stone.

Rémington and Grany stared in awe. "Maybe we have something valuable after all…" Rémington said reverently.

"YOU! THIEF!"

His attention was drawn by the shrill shriek of his name. He and Grany turned to see Mim storming across the rooftop toward them, smoke practically coming out of her nostrils. As she got closer, her shapeshifting kicked in, and smoke literally did come out of her nostrils.

"You think you can just take my purse and then GET AWAY WITH IT?" Mim raged.

"I, er…" Rémington backed up a step. He'd seen this woman punch out larger men than him…and normally, that wouldn't faze him. However, something about the anger in her eyes gave him cause to worry and an instinct that maybe, just maybe, this was a fight he shouldn't pick. "I didn't…wait, so you mean…?" He kept on backing up until his heel was on the roof edge; any further and he would end up on a deadly tumble. "This?" He held up the purse. "This is mine."

Grany, knowing a skirmish was coming, hopped down off Rémington's shoulder and cowered under the table.

"Don't try to tell me that isn't my table!" Mim insisted, pointing to the heavy furniture.

"Well, you do have a point in that," Rémington replied.

"You made me mad," Mim crowed, "and now you're going to pay for it!" She morphed into a bright purple water buffalo with large, sharp horns. She pawed the roof once with her front hoof, dislodging a shingle.

Rémington adopted a look of horror. Mim charged straight for him, and he stood stock-still until the last moment. When she reached him, however, just before she could headbutt or gore him, he backflipped right off the roof.

The momentum propelled him around to hit the side of the building. He grasped the windowsill, slammed his feet into the wall, and then pushed off again. Flip, land, stamp the wall, repeat, all the way down until he landed safely in the street, drawing the eyes of several bystanders.

With a scream, a bright purple eagle took off from the roof, divebombing Rémington and prompting him to draw one of his pistols. He fired three shots; all missed their mark, as Mim swerved out of the way of each burst of energy. Rémington hit the dirt just as Mim leveled off; she'd expected to have gored his face, but she tasted empty air. In the meantime, Rémington rolled over onto his back, drawing both pistols. He jerked into a sitting position to see what he was up against.

Mim wheeled through the air, making a 180, swerving so one of her wing tips touched the street, and morphed into a charging tiger. By that time, the civilians had all been set into a panic, evacuating the street with screams of terror. Mim charged toward Rémington with a roar of rage.

Above it all, Grany watched, wondering if he should get involved but not quite sure how he could and survive the attempt.

Rémington opened fire. Once again, Mim evaded all his shots, able to predict where they'd land and leaping from side to side to avoid even being so much as scraped…except for the last shot, which slightly singed her fur. She lunged at Rémington.

Unfazed, he too leapt, higher than her, flipping forward, planting his hands on her shoulder blades and using her as a vault to complete the somersault and land on the other side of her. As Rémington turned to fire, he realized he felt exhilarated, alive. Something he'd felt devoid of for years, despite being involved with an array of interesting women. His attention, as far as the group of strangers had been his concern, was no longer on Wuya. As he loosed the next shot, he laughed, the sound of his gleeful voice intermingling with the BANG-BANG-BANG of the pistols. He did not by any means intend to miss…but he hoped that she would evade. The thought of Mim expiring and ending the game so soon dismayed him.

Landing on the stone empty-clawed, Mim heard the gunfire and laughter. How, she wondered, could he laugh at a time like this, when she was dead set on killing him? She figured it was time for a different tactic. Morphing back into human form, Mim spun to meet the energy blasts, putting up a deflection shield that sent the bursts of demonic plasma rocketing off in random directions and punching holes in nearby walls. Then she disappeared altogether so that Rémington was firing on empty air.

She materialized right behind him, charging up a ball of plasma in her hand that was supposed to connect with his head. Rémington paused, staring straight ahead for a moment at the place where Mim had been. She knew it just before she drove her hand upward. The intent had been to ram the explosive magic right into his head, but she knew, when he stared directly forward and didn't bother to look around, that he knew where she was. So he ducked, and the plasma blasted off into empty air. Rémington's leg swung at Mim's ankles to trip her up, and she hopped into the air over it, letting it pass beneath her. At that point, she had to admit that she was indeed having fun. She let loose another plasma bolt, and Rémington was gone, causing the bolt to shatter a small pocket into the street.

Rémington darted behind Mim, and before getting into position to take the next shot, he quickly leaned in and planted a kiss on her cheek. He ran away laughing, pistols at the ready.

"HOW DARE YOU!" Mim cried, and yet she was smiling. Things were getting fun. Rémington opened fire again, and she tracked just how long she could stand directly in the path of each blast before teleporting away to stand in the path of the next, getting closer to him all the while until she stood directly beside him. At that point, she dealt a kiss to his cheek. Revenge. Then she was gone again.

Grany gave up on trying to insert himself into the fight. His brother didn't need protecting. He was very clearly enjoying himself.

Rémington had his arms spread out to their full extent on either side of him, fingers on the triggers of the pistols, ready for when Mim showed up again. What he wasn't ready for was for a large purple housecat to leap onto his head from behind. He shrieked and stumbled ungracefully as Mim latched her limbs around his head, considering extending her claws and marring that pretty face of his but ultimately thinking better of it. She playfully thwacked a front paw directly between Rémington's eyes.

Rémington quickly holstered his guns so that he could employ his hands in wrenching Mim off his head, which wasn't an easy task. He held her straight out in front of him for a moment, giving her a scolding glare. "How dare you," he said in a monotone that hid his feelings about the situation for only a moment…before a very slight smirk appeared.

Mim broke the moment by transforming into a hippopotamus.

She didn't feel her foot land on his, and so she wasn't sure it had actually happened. She just knew that next thing, Rémington was stumbling backward, both hands wrapped around his foot, completely vulnerable. Or so he wanted her to think. She was wise to his game. She wasn't about to suddenly drop her mission and ask if he was all right. Besides, she found him rather cute when he was in non-mortal pain. She sighed; it was a pity she had to do this. But she had approached him with a goal in mind. Then again, taking this window was exactly what he wanted her to do. If she really wanted to off him, she would take a way around it. Wait for him to drop the act. Instead, she played right along, morphing back to human form and charging at him, an electric ball of plasma crackling in her hand.

He dropped the act. Click, click. Two pistols pointed right up against Mim's head, the barrels pressing into her violet hair. Her hand, filled with deadly magic, hovering just over his chest, ready to stop his heart. They glared at each other, neither afraid.

"But you're not really going to do it," Rémington said, "are you?"

"Neither are you!" Mim accused.

She withdrew her hand at the exact moment he lowered the pistols. They each took two steps back, regarding each other with interest.

"I haven't had that sort of fun in a while," Rémington revealed with a grin. He thought back to the last time he had felt so exhilarated and nearly giddy: when he was engaged in battle with a certain archer, who, unfortunately for him at the time, had already pledged herself to another true love and was on a quest to save said true love at the moment they met. But even she had lacked spontaneity. "Heh. You put up a good fight, sweet sorcière."

"Don't try and sweet-talk me, you!" Mim snapped. It had been a good fight, though. And she'd completely lost the will to destroy him. "You think you can win me over after I caught you stealing my PURSE?"

Rémington grinned. "I suppose you want me to give it back. It's a pity that for as good of a fight as you put up, you weren't able to hold onto it."

"Neither did you."

"Wha?" Rémington searched himself for the purse only to find it gone. He then felt a long, narrow finger tap him on the shoulder. He spun to see Ragdoll dangling the purse in his face.

"Looking for this?" Ragdoll's smile was almost impossibly wide.

Rémington was about to warn Ragdoll that stealing Mim's purse was like signing a death warrant, but then he remembered: this was the man he'd wondered about being a Xelor among the group of oddly dressed strangers. He was with her. Rémington turned back to Mim. "I see you run with thieves," he observed.

"Thieves, con men, murderers, and usurpers," Mim clarified. "There are the rest of them now."

Rémington looked back behind Ragdoll to make note of Mozenrath, the Huntsman, Roman, Snatcher, Aghoul, Wuya, and Yzma watching him; they'd very obviously been enjoying the show. "You all certainly made an impression tonight," Rémington told them.

Grany had, by this time, made his way down off the roof to hop up on his brother's shoulders. "Don't you dare pick a fight with them," the cat hissed. "You won't win."

"Stealing from us was a pretty bold move," Mozenrath remarked. "You obviously don't know who we are. Which would make sense, since we are new to the World of Twelve and all, but still, I would think someone at least reasonably intelligent could tell that we're powerful enough NOT TO BE MESSED WITH, SO DON'T TRY IT AGAIN, OR YOU'LL HAVE TO DEAL WITH ME NEXT."

Rémington flinched.

"Don't mind his threats," the Huntsman sighed. "He's had far more caffeine than he should have."

"Wait," Rémington said as he shook his head to clear it of all Mozenrath's babble and focus on what mattered. "Did you just say you were new to the World of Twelve?"

Aghoul smacked Mozenrath on the back of the head. "Nice going!"

"It's not like half the bar wasn't on to us anyway," Ragdoll pointed out. "Didn't I hear someone mention to you that you should have known about something very obvious about this world right before you decided to make things fun?"

"What didn't you know about?" Rémington asked.

Roman's perception was still clouded by alcohol, but he knew an opportunity when he saw one. "Time magic. You know somethin'?"

"I might know what you're looking for," Rémington said slyly. "For a price."

"How's this for a price?" Roman suggested. "You tell us what we need to know, and we won't give you a seven-on-one beatdown."

"Nine," the Huntsman corrected.

"Right," Roman said dazedly. "Seven-on-nine. You know Mim only let you live 'causeshewanna, right?"

"I could still kill you," Mim said with a flirtatious wink.

"And I'd love to see you try," Rémington replied coyly.

"Are they…?" Mozenrath asked, confused.

"Definitely flirting," Aghoul confirmed.

"You seem strangely okay with this."

"Mimsie and I have an arrangement. He does seem sufficiently nasty for her. Not as devilishly handsome as I am, but who is?"

"All right," Rémington relented. "You want the Eliacube. A few years ago, it was in the middle of at least two separate catastrophes. One of them involved time travel, if I remember right. It's under lock and key in the Sadida Kingdom, which means it has some of the highest security in the whole world. I wouldn't even try to steal it. Not just with me and Grany, anyway."

"What are we?" one of Rémington's guns asked. "It's NEVER just you and him."

"YOU are tools," Rémington snapped. "Now shut up and let me talk business. What do you need the Eliacube for, exactly?"

"Oh, like we're gonna tell you!" Roman snapped.

"I just thought if I was going to show you the way to the Sadida Kingdom," Rémington stated, "I might as well know what I was helping you achieve."

"Who said you were coming with us?" Mozenrath growled.

"You seem like the toughest customers on the block," Rémington explained. "Running with you only seems natural. However, since you don't know this world well, you would do better with a guide. It's just logical."

"And you're suggesting guiding us to this kingdom free of charge, without stabbing us in the back?" Wuya asked in suspicion.

"The adventure will be worth it," Rémington said.

"It's NEVER just about the adventure with you," Grany sighed. He then informed the others, "He has a crush on your…your…" He looked to Mim, trying to find the word to describe her.

"Mim," Yzma suggested, knowing no better word to label her.

"Yes," Grany confirmed. "A crush on your Mim."

"Well, that only makes sense," Mim said smugly, running a hand through her lavender hair.

"Conference," Mozenrath declared. "WHAM ARMY only."

"Hey, now," Roman argued. "You don't remember anythin'. I got the…the…thingy, remember? You don't call conference. I call conference." He paused. "Conference. WHAM ARMY only."

Roman, Mozenrath, Aghoul, Mim, the Huntsman, Snatcher, Wuya, Yzma, and Ragdoll huddled some distance away from the Smisses. "He is pretty good with a gun," Ragdoll pointed out. "And he was brave enough to steal from us and quick enough to get away for some distance. He might be useful."

"I like him," Mim said, matter-of-fact. "I say we take him along!"

"And how do we know we can trust him?" Yzma hissed. "Even you, Mim! He just spent the past few minutes trying to shoot you!"

"We could always just kill him if he leads us astray," Aghoul suggested. "We're more than a match for him."

"Point," Yzma relented.

"It could be helpful to have someone who knows the lay of the land," the Huntsman said with a nod, "so long as we keep him on a short leash."

Meanwhile, the Smisses were having a conference of their own. "You know if you even put a toe out of line, they'll kill you," Grany warned.

"I know," Rémington told him. "But if I lead them to the Eliacube and help them steal it, I might get a cut of the profits."

"How do you know they're going to sell the cube?"

"What else could they want to do with it?"

"Use it," Grany told him. "The same way what's-his-face did. The Eliatrope with one arm."

"That could work in our favor too," Rémington mused.

"Are you seriously just doing this for one woman?" Grany sighed. "There are other women out there! That one isn't even pretty!"

"She's different," Rémington argued. "I can't really explain it. She was the first since Eva to make me feel so…alive."

"You know what she and Eva had in common? Both of them TRIED TO KILL YOU. Is that what turns you on now?"
"It just might be," Rémington mused.

"Fine," Grany groaned. "Take the suicide mission."

"You don't have to come if you don't want to."

"Who else is going to make sure you don't get killed, Rémy? Besides, if we do score something good, I want a piece!"

Rémy ruffled the fur on his brother's back. "That's the Grany I know."

The Shushu weapons chimed in: "Are you serious?"
"We've only just met them."

"This is going to go over about as well as all your OTHER bright ideas."

"When I want your opinions," Rémington snapped, "I'll ask for them."

The conference broke. "We came to a conc…to a clu…we decided," Roman stammered, "you're on the team. You get to take us to the Eliakingdom and show us where the Sadidacube is."

"Is your leader always this articulate?" Rémington teased.

"Is he always this drunk?" Grany added.

"I'm not THAT drunk," Roman insisted. He tried to take a step toward the Smisses, only to trip on his own feet and tumble to the ground.

As Snatcher saw to helping Roman back to his feet, Mozenrath took the lead, stepping forth and offering his right hand. Something in the back of his mind warned him that perhaps providing the hand covered in his most valuable treasure to a thief wasn't the best course of action, and so he switched, offering the left instead. "Welcome aboard," he said. "Whatever your name is."

"Rémington Smisse," Rémington introduced. He first put out his right hand upon instinct, then realized what Mozenrath was doing and clasped Mozenrath's extended hand in his own left. "And you are?"

"I am Mozenrath. I presume you'll tell me more about yourself along the journey."

"I'll tell you about me if you'll tell me about you," Rémington decided.

"As much as I know," Mozenrath sighed. "As much as I know."