41. Hatching Plans
"We know," Yugo and Amalia said in unison, bright smiles plastering their faces.
That was perhaps the last thing Sora, Ruby, Papyrus, Stork, and Jasmine expected to hear in response to confessing that they'd come from other worlds. "Uhhh…how?" Ruby asked, confounded.
"I'm an Eliatrope," Yugo reminded them. "I've been reborn over and over. I've had hundreds of lives, though I always forget what happened in the last one as soon as the next one begins. Apparently, though, I'm the king of the Eliatropes, and we all used to live on another world as well. A terrible attack forced me to lead my people away from that world, and over our many lives, we moved to different worlds throughout the Krosmoz. I was starting to suspect you were from another world just because I've never seen anyone like Stork and Papyrus before. Then, when Stork mentioned being from somewhere with no sea, that confirmed it!"
Adal was stunned to the point of simply staring at the group, unsure of what to say. His eye twitched.
"You'd better count yourself lucky none of them are royalty," Phaerys told him, "what with the way you treated them."
"Actually…" Sora stepped back and gestured to Jasmine.
"She's…" Adal sputtered.
"Princess of Agrabah," Jasmine confirmed.
"I…humbly offer my apologies," Adal muttered.
"You're forgiven," Jasmine told him with a smile and a nod, "on the condition that you take all the respect you think you owe me and pay it to Phaerys."
"Of course," Adal said with a quick nod.
"So what world ARE you from?" Amalia asked.
"All different ones," Sora told her. "I'm from the Destiny Islands. Lots of sea there."
"Atmos," Stork added. "All the nations are separated by a wasteland of horrors."
"Remnant," Ruby stated. "Four kingdoms, four schools for combat, everything is powered by Dust, which is, uhhhhh…you'd probably call it magic, but it's really not."
"Agrabah, in the Seven Deserts," Jasmine said proudly. "Not really much sea there either, and things can get pretty hot. In temperature and in excitement."
"THE TOWN OF KNIGHTDOCK, THOUGH FORMERLY FROM MT. EBOTT," Papyrus volunteered. "BOTH ON THE SAME WORLD. MONSTERS LIKE ME LIVED UNDERGROUND FOR A VERY LONG TIME BEFORE A BRAVE AND UNSTOPPABLE HUMAN BROUGHT EVERYONE TOGETHER!"
"This is so cool!" Elaine gushed.
"Ever been to any of our worlds?" Sora asked Yugo.
Yugo shook his head. "The sad thing is that most of the worlds the Eliatropes lived on have been destroyed. And it's all Qilby's fault."
"I'm sorry," Jasmine told him.
"It's fine," Yugo insisted. "I don't remember any of them, after all. What happened was still horrible, but it's in the past."
"Your highness," Adal said with a pointed look at Jasmine, "I am, of course, all in favor of you discussing your experiences with other worlds, but I do have much business to attend to – "
"Of course," Jasmine agreed. "We need to be moving on, anyway. We have to figure out where Mozenrath is headed next."
"Thank you for protecting this island," Phaerys said stoically. "And for protecting Phaerys."
"It's what we do!" Ruby chirped.
"Well," Sora resolved, "let's get a move on."
He, Ruby, Jasmine, Stork, Papyrus, Amalia, Yugo, Elaine, and Encre Noir made their way out of the diplomatic facility and headed for the small ship they'd come in on.
"I can't believe this!" Amalia gushed, staring at Jasmine. "Another princess, all this time, and I never knew!" She then blinked, her expression souring. "You are a princess, right? That wasn't just something you made up to get Adal to shut his mouth?"
"I'm a real princess," Jasmine confirmed.
"We have so much to talk about!" Amalia cried. "What's your kingdom like? How many servants do you have? Is there a handsome prince in your life? Or another princess, perhaps? What is your daily routine like? Oh, I suppose it must have gotten all messed up when you had to come all the way out here chasing Mozenrath."
"I'll tell you more about my life," Jasmine promised, "if you tell me more about yours. I want to know the answer to every question you asked me."
"Ugh." Elaine rolled her eyes. "Princess talk. Tell me the rest of you aren't royalty. Her Snootiness is bad enough."
"HEY!" Amalia barked.
"Nah, the rest of us are just ordinary people," Sora confirmed. "Well, okay…we're not royalty. There's not really anything 'ordinary' about the rest of us. Isn't that right?"
"Ruby's really the closest thing we have around here to 'normal,'" Stork pointed out.
"Um…I haven't told you about the silver eyes thing, have I?" Ruby realized.
"Is this something I should be afraid of?" Stork asked.
"Uhhh…no?" Ruby was unsure. "I'm…not really sure how it works…but it's not anything more dangerous than what we've been doing for this entire journey. Actually, it's supposed to HELP with the dangerous stuff, if I could figure it out…"
"It must be fate that we're traveling together, then," Amalia stated. "Yugo is the least ordinary person there ever was on this world, and that's what makes him so great!"
"We're all great," Sora decided.
Then, to his surprise, he was given a reply of "WELL…PERHAPS SOME OF US ARE NOT AS GREAT AS WE THOUGHT WE WERE" from Papyrus.
"What's that supposed to mean?" Ruby asked.
"THAT MAN I WAS FIGHTING," Papyrus confessed. "HE TOLD ME I WAS LOWER THAN DIRT. AND HE SAID AMALIA AND STORK WERE…I DON'T EVEN WANT TO SAY IT! I KNOW IT'S NOT TRUE ABOUT YOU TWO. BUT EVER SINCE WE MONSTERS CAME UP TO THE SURFACE FROM BELOW MT. EBOTT, I HAVE ADMITTEDLY HEARD OTHER HUMANS SAY THE SAME THINGS ABOUT US. IF SO MANY PEOPLE FROM DIFFERENT WORLDS ARE SAYING THE SAME THING…I DON'T WANT TO BELIEVE IT ABOUT ASGORE OR SANS OR UNDYNE. BUT…AM I LESS THAN HUMAN BECAUSE I AM A MONSTER?"
"Don't even ask that!" Sora replied, stunned. "Of COURSE you're not!"
"You're actually a lot better at being a person than a lot of humans I know," Stork chimed in. "No offense to present company."
"And so are the others we met," Ruby said with a nod. "They weren't human, but they were people. They were friends! I'm still a little jealous of Undyne. She's awesome."
"And so are you," Sora insisted.
"I agree," Yugo said emphatically.
"If there are more people like you, they can't be bad!" Amalia added.
"THEN WHY DO SO MANY PEOPLE SAY – " Papyrus began.
"Papyrus." Jasmine planted herself in front of him, facing him down, taking up both of his hands into her own. "The only reason people say those things is because on every world, people like to make themselves feel powerful by making other people feel bad. And when people are different from each other, they end up thinking of each other as the enemy. I remember…someone I knew once. A friend. I thought he was an enemy at first because he was so different. He had powers kind of like Amalia's, and he saw plants as his children. He said he was heartless, maybe because that was what humans had told him all his life. But as I got to know him, it turned out that wasn't true. He just saw things differently than we humans did because he wasn't human, and he could see a lot of beauty that we missed. He…ended up dying because people didn't understand him. Because he was different. And I don't EVER want that to happen again. He was every bit as good as a human, and he deserved to live to know that. Just like you and your friends and family are just as good as humans. I want you to promise me that you won't EVER let anyone make you feel like that's not the truth again."
Papyrus brightened noticeably. "I PROMISE," he said enthusiastically. "I DON'T EVEN KNOW WHAT I WAS THINKING."
Jasmine nodded, letting go of Papyrus' hands and falling into step beside him. "It's easy to let things other people say get to us," she stated.
"You gotta listen to what your real friends say," Sora emphasized. "That's what matters. And we say you, Undyne, Mettaton, and the whole crew are the best! Monsters shouldn't have anything to hide because of us humans!"
"Humans are kind of jerks," Ruby agreed.
"Besides," Sora brought up, "I know that guy you were fighting. That HAD to be Archibald Snatcher, and he gets his way by making stuff up like that to tear people apart."
"No wonder he's friends with Mozenrath," Ruby said with a flinch. "They're both gross."
"I still can't wrap my head around this," Jasmine admitted. "They can't really all be friends, can they?"
"A lot of weird things are going on," Sora pointed out. "Mozenrath didn't even REMEMBER us. And he didn't remember YOU. I wonder if maybe he lost his memory. It happens more often than you'd think."
"That would certainly explain why he's playing so well with others," Jasmine theorized.
"What about that other one you knew?" Yugo asked. "Are you, him, and Mozenrath all from the same world?"
"Ayam Aghoul," Jasmine spat.
"He's gross too, isn't he?" Ruby asked.
"You have no idea," Jasmine huffed. "We first met when he tried to force me to marry him and join his legion of wives that serve him without question."
"How disgusting!" Amalia stuck out her tongue. "To think of you being married to that horrible, horrible creature and having to do everything he says!"
"I managed to escape him with a little help from my friends," Jasmine explained, "and from my prince charming." This last sentiment was directed at Amalia, along with a wink.
"You DO have someone!" Amalia squealed. "Ooh, how romantic! Tell me everything! But first, you should probably tell us about this Ayam person."
"On a scale of background panic to just having crash-landed in the Black Gorge, how afraid should we be of this guy?" Stork asked.
"I'm afraid he's very powerful," Jasmine said somberly. "It all depends on what kind of magic he's found to take advantage of. Once, he nearly caused the death of everyone in Agrabah by stealing their shadows."
"I think you better tell us everything," Stork implored. "From the beginning."
The group, now confirmed to be entirely extraordinary, walked up the gangplank onto Encre Noir's meager ship. "While she tells us about Ayam," Encre Noir suggested, "we need to set sail. Where to?"
"We don't know," Yugo sighed.
"THAT JUST MEANS ANY ONE PLACE IS AS GOOD AS THE NEXT!" Papyrus suggested.
"All right," Encre Noir resolved. "We'll just head for the nearest port on the mainland."
The small ship launched out to sea as Jasmine spun the sordid tale of how Ayam Aghoul had used his failed plot to abduct her as a catalyst for revenge upon all of Agrabah.
At one point, Sora commented, "I don't see what anybody would ever see in him to marry him anyway. He's just too horrible. Who would ever actually WANT to be with him?"
...
It was around then that Ayam Aghoul awoke, his head resting in Mim's lap.
"Well, well," he said with a sly smile. "Aren't you a sight to make sore eyes hurt more."
"You're no prize yourself," Mim said slyly as she ran a single finger up the side of his face.
"Ugggghhh…" From across the deck of the Incurable Blight, another unconscious passenger's return to the realm of the waking became audible. "Everything hurts," Roman groaned.
"Owww," another voice chimed in. Snatcher delicately hoisted himself into a sitting position, muttering, "My aching back…"
Rémington's eyes snapped open. He took a moment to discern where, exactly, he was. "Well," he stated calmly, "I can safely say I've woken up in weirder places and sore in stranger spots." He fluidly stood, pushing past the aches, and stalked over toward where the rest of the conscious were gathered around the Huntsman.
He was stopped when Mim tugged on the edge of his cape. "Don't think I've forgotten about you, you nasty little infection."
"Not at all." Rémington's smile was as coy as Aghoul's.
"Did you forget about me?"
"Quite the opposite." He swept down and kissed her lips firmly before standing and continuing on his way.
Yes, Mim thought to herself, she'd made the right choice twice over.
"So, uh…what the hell WAS that?" Roman asked as he stood shakily. "That fusion thing. Pretty sure Red's never done THAT with her little friends before."
"If I had to guess…a Keybearer warrior technique," the Huntsman mused. "Our teenaged nuisance has already demonstrated himself capable of strange magical tactics. That, or a spell cast by the monster. In any case, the more our enemy grows in numbers in that corner, the more carefully we must tread."
"You know I hate treading carefully," Roman sighed.
"As do I," the Huntsman admitted.
"You're the one who – "
"I am aware."
Yzma chose that moment to very loudly clear her throat. All eyes focused upon her.
"Yes…?" the Huntsman replied tentatively.
Yzma simply stretched out her arm toward him, her open palm facing upward. When nothing happened, she stabbed the index finger of her opposite hand into it.
"I take it you believe it is your time to lead," the Huntsman stated sourly.
"I think if you have that compass any longer," Yzma seethed, "you're going to turn us right back around to go after that dragon, and next time, one of us will end up dead."
The Huntsman stared her down for a good minute before retrieving the compass from his pocket and placing it firmly in her hand. Her long, spidery fingers curled around it as she pulled it close.
"Now," she muttered, "to business."
"Just like that," Mozenrath snapped. "We were just beaten by a bunch of CHILDREN and what I understand were a pair of dainty little royal GIRLS."
He immediately felt a zap of light magic run through him, causing a slight pain throughout his body. He whirled on the responsible party: Wuya. "WHAT WAS THAT FOR?"
"That's what I do to you every time you make a sexist comment," Wuya said dryly. "If you're going to play on a co-ed team, you're going to play nice."
"All right," Mozenrath corrected with gritted teeth. "We were beaten by a pair of highly skilled female warriors."
"Better," Wuya said with a nod.
"But still, at least three CHILDREN," Mozenrath went on. "Have they ALWAYS been this much more powerful than us?"
In the meantime, Aghoul had stood as well, poking Snatcher in the upper arm while sending a surge of hurtful magic through the active finger.
"What was THAT for?" Snatcher growled.
"If Wuya gets to zap him for being sexist," Aghoul stated, "I get to zap you for being anti-undead."
"And when was I anti-undead?"
"I heard what you said to that overly cheery skeleton," Aghoul went on. "Skeletons are a form of the undead, and undead are a form of monster. How am I to know you don't consider me VERMIN?"
"Rest quite assured, Mr. Aghoul," Snatcher told him, "while I was skeptical at first, you have proven yourself to have a wildfire's ambition and a devious mind that I have come to irrevocably respect, disregarding your status as slightly inhuman."
Aghoul gave him a playful clap on the shoulder; Snatcher flinched, expecting another zap. "Oh, you know I can't stay mad at someone as malicious and repulsive as you! Even if you are a mortal fleshbag."
"Thank…you?" Snatcher replied confusedly.
"IS NO ONE ELSE ENRAGED THAT WE LOST TO CHILDREN?" Mozenrath screamed.
"Eh." Wuya shrugged. "I'm used to it."
"Losing to children is kind of my life," Roman added.
"As is my eternal humiliation," Snatcher said.
"In my defense, Robin is an extremely gifted child," Ragdoll chimed in. "But I can't say I'm a stranger to the sentiment."
"No comment," the Huntsman grunted.
"Excuse me?" Yzma faced Mozenrath down. "You're, what, twenty-one?"
"I don't remember!" Mozenrath growled.
"You've had to get people to take you seriously for being that young," Yzma argued. "And you can't believe that somebody five years behind you happened to stumble into the same kind of power you did? Believe me, it's much better than trying to get people to take you seriously for being MY age."
"How old ARE you, anyway?" Mozenrath asked.
Yzma crossed to him in a couple quick strides, smacking him on the back of the head. "Didn't your parents ever tell you never to ask a woman her age?"
"I DON'T REMEMBER!"
"Seventy-two," Yzma stated as she backed off. "Just so everyone will stop asking."
"You're…seventy-two," Mozenrath commented, a little stunned. "You're…quite agile for seventy-two."
Yzma stepped forward and smacked him again.
"WHAT. WAS. THAT. FOR?" Mozenrath growled.
"…That wasn't an insult, was it?" Yzma realized. "I was expecting another insult. Apologies."
"I'm no stranger to the feeling," Snatcher added. "I haven't quite the years you have. Forty-seven, to be precise. Nearly half a century. People expect your mind to be going dull at that stage, not getting sharper."
"Wait, you're almost fifty?" Roman did a double take. "So…you're literally old enough to be my actual dad. Huh. Guess calling you 'Daddy' wasn't that far off." He and Snatcher traded smirks.
"Why were you calling him that?" Mozenrath asked in complete seriousness.
Yzma, Wuya, and the Huntsman exchanged glances.
"I'm not telling him," Wuya insisted. "YOU explain it to him."
"ME?" Yzma gestured to herself. "I'm not explaining this! Huntsman, this is your job!"
The Huntsman sighed in resignation. "Not here. Later."
"Anyway, if we're trying to have an age competition, you can all step down," Wuya brought up. "I believe I have fifteen hundred years on ALL of you."
"Only three hundred," Mim sighed. "Drat!"
"One thousand, give or take," Aghoul offered up.
"I don't suppose any of you are willing to offer up the secret of immortality," Rémington said casually.
"Well, I'm part goblin, Wuya was imprisoned in a magic box, and Ghoulie is dead," Mim mused. "But I'm sure there's magic out there that can give us all the immortality we want! We'll put it on the to-do list."
"You can't…" Mozenrath sighed. "You can't take all the immortality you want. You either have immortality or you don't. You can't have an AMOUNT of immortality." He took a deep breath, then exhaled it slowly. "So, back to my original point, we are constantly losing to enemies who are younger than us. I don't like that one bit, but apparently that's the hand we're dealt. Now that we know they can merge with each other by magic, at least we can prepare for that. From now on, only magic users take the kid with the key, and at least two at a time."
"A sound decision," the Huntsman agreed.
"Now," Mozenrath continued, "I believe Yzma is the one in charge of making our next move. So, Yzma, what'll it be?"
"I'm glad you asked!" Yzma replied. "We begin by finding exactly where Qilby, Tyrian, and Hades have taken our Eliacube. And we do so using a locator spell."
"Where are we going to get the ingredients for a locator spell in the middle of the ocean?" Mozenrath asked.
"Oh, I don't know…" Yzma whipped a small vial out of a pocket. "Maybe HERE!"
Mozenrath leaned forward to read the label: "Extract of tree frog."
"…Wrong vial." Yzma pocketed the potion, rummaging through her clothes for another one. "A-HA!" she crowed, thrusting forth another vial. "Maybe HERE!"
Mozenrath checked the label on this one: "You're good."
"All we need is something that belongs to one of our three targets," Yzma mused, "or did at some point. Anything will do. A scrap of clothing, or a dropped pocket watch – "
"You think any of us scraped up a POCKET WATCH during the attack on the Sadida?" Aghoul groaned.
"There must be something," Yzma muttered. "Something that even belonged to them shortly! We've had enough run-ins with Hades and his ilk; we have to have picked up SOMETHING!"
"You're saying 'we' like you were actually there when Mozenrath, Archie, and I were doing time in Tartarus," Roman grumbled.
Yzma's eyes widened. "Yes…you three DID belong to Hades for a time, didn't you?"
"Now, wait just a moment!" Snatcher argued. "I'd hardly call that 'belonging.' We still maintained our own free will!"
"Ah, ah!" Yzma wagged a finger. "The three of you were just souls with physical projections, and Hades is the Lord of the Dead! He OWNED the three of you, fair and square! And you're what we're going to use to track him!"
"Here's the problem with that," Wuya pointed out. "Say we do use the three of them to track Hades. A locator spell brings the object – or soul – that was owned directly to the owner. You're talking about having them crash directly into Hades. That's asking for him to throw them right back into the Underworld."
"Not if he doesn't know who crashed into him," Yzma said with a grin. "Mim, you do still have our disguises from the Sadida Kingdom in your purse, do you not?"
"Ready to go when you are!" Mim replied enthusiastically.
"We all crash into Hades – " Yzma attempted to continue.
Aghoul cut her off: "WE?"
"Well, we have to be able to follow Mozenrath, Roman, and Mr. Snatcher somehow," Yzma answered. "We'll all be holding hands."
"And you're suggesting the three of them will pull us along in a great chain, speeding over land and sea," the Huntsman reiterated.
"That is EXACTLY what I am suggesting," Yzma insisted. "Unless you have any better ideas."
"…I suppose I don't," the Huntsman admitted. "But something will have to keep us levitated to stop us from dragging in the water."
"I could provide the magic for that," Mozenrath threw in.
"Mim, fetch our clothes," Yzma ordered. "I have the rest of a plan to figure out! Now, we'll need to make provisions for if we meet up with them in a city versus meeting up with them in a clearing. If it's a city, the first thing we'll need to do is buy as much strawberry jelly as we can."
"And…why?" Roman wondered out loud.
"To attract the rats, of course," Yzma answered. "Once we've lured the rats into the shoe shop, we can then take advantage of the chaos to swap out the lefts and rights of each pair as well as taking one pair of sturdy boots each for ourselves. Half of us will then lead the rats to a candy shop while the other half seek out springs to attach to the boots. We won't attach them right away, of course. We need the boots in order to stomp the wooden planks in half that we'll need broken up. The rats will cause a flurry of people to rush away from the candy store, and – "
"Are you even listening to this?" Grany hissed to Rémington. "This is never going to work!"
"It sounds pretty sound to me so far," Rémington answered as he removed his cape in order to change back into the garb of Katana.
"HOW?" Grany was awestruck. "We don't even know how this ties into the Eliacube!"
"If nothing else," Ragdoll broke in, "it's amusing to listen to."
"Stop listening in!" Grany hissed at him.
Disguises were donned. Yzma paced back and forth, muttering to herself: "We'll put crossbow number one at a thirty degree angle – no, a forty-five degree angle from the target spot. The explosive fuse will have to be lit by the friction from the bolt leaving the – "
"Yzma?" Mozenrath interrupted, decked out as Brandisia Black. "You're the last one we're waiting on."
"Right." As everyone turned to hide their eyes, Yzma scrambled into her pink gown. "Of course, since Wuya and I will be most recognizable, we shall bring up the rear."
The group hustled to the front of the ship. Mozenrath insisted upon being the leader of the chain, his right hand free while his left hand reached back to clutch Snatcher's right. Snatcher, in turn, took Roman's right hand in his left, and Roman took hold of Peter's right hand. Peter's fingers intertwined with Rémington's; Rémington tucked Grany under that arm before reaching back to take Mim's hand. Mim's free hand grasped Aghoul's, Aghoul grabbed onto the Huntsman, the Huntsman seized Wuya's hand and Wuya clutched Yzma's hand in her own. "READY?" Yzma called up from the back of the line.
Mozenrath looked down at the vial in his gauntleted hand. "This had better work." He uncapped the vial, quickly downing one-third of the contents. He and Snatcher briefly broke physical contact in order for Snatcher to take and drink his third; Snatcher passed it to Roman, who finished the vial off. The three immediately linked hands again as the vial was tossed to the deck.
Mozenrath cast a blue aura over the entire chain, and they levitated a few inches off the deck of the ship. For a moment, all was still.
Mozenrath sighed. "I don't think this is going to wo – "
He was immediately jerked forward, as were Snatcher and Roman, the three of them taking the entire chain along with them, speeding over the ocean and leaving the Incurable Blight to bob in the water until it washed up on some distant shore or capsized.
"NOW WE ARE MOVING!" Yzma crowed. "Now, to pick up where I left off. I have decided the tuba won't be necessary. Instead, we are going to scale to the rooftop of the highest building and use it to locate the second and third highest points. These are where we are going to station the glass lenses. When put at the exact correct angle, they should refract the light of the sun in order to burn through – did I mention the rope yet? Ah, yes. We will string a rope…"
"I have no faith in this plan," Mozenrath muttered to himself.
...
By day, Xerxes occupied a cage in the Mystery Shack, where Stan paraded groups of awestruck tourists past him. "Behold!" Stan said with a sweeping gesture toward Xerxes. "The repulsive, one-of-a-kind SKY EEL! Look at its asymmetrical eyes! Look at its sharp fangs! Look at the disgustingly cute tiny sweater it's wearing!"
"Raaaaar!" Xerxes exclaimed, loving to see the tourists flinch in fear. It was quite the opposite reaction from what he was used to.
"Is it dangerous?" one of the sightseers asked.
"Oh, yes, very," Stan said with an emphatic nod. "Completely carnivorous. It thirsts for human flesh. The plush replicas of it in the gift shop, however, are completely safe. Twenty dollars apiece. Move along, move along!"
Xerxes let out a mad cackle as he watched the group first gawk at him, then hustle away in fear. He had to admit that working for the Mystery Shack wasn't as bad as he'd thought. He got three good meals a day, the lime green sweater Mabel had knitted him was surprisingly cozy, and he got a kick out of scaring people.
All the same, he missed home. Maybe if he touched the star shard this time, it would bring him back. Stan may have been greedy and self-centered, but Xerxes could tell that deep down, he was a good person, and this aggravated Xerxes. The eel longed to be back among his beloved ne'er-do-wells and their rotten souls.
"All right," Stan announced, opening up the cage. "Closing time. You're free to go. Same time tomorrow morning, you hear?"
"Xerxes hear," Xerxes said with a nod. He then made a beeline for the uppermost level, eager to test out the star shard.
"Dipper?" Mabel asked her twin as she observed the boy looking over the star shard, which was perched in his lap as he sat on his bed, with a magnifying glass. The thick journal he turned to for reference on all things supernatural was spread open next to him. "Whaaaaaat are you doing?"
"I'm trying to figure out what this crystal is," Dipper answered. "So far, it hasn't done anything or responded to any tests. This CAN'T just be an ordinary crystal. Why else would Xerxes act so protective around it?"
"Maybe because it's shiny," Mabel suggested. "I know I like shiny things."
"It's gotta be more than that," Dipper argued. "I just can't shake this feeling that Xerxes is more than he looks like."
"You don't trust him?" Mabel gasped. "But Dipper! The poor thing was almost eaten by a bird! He needed our help!"
"I'm not saying I don't TRUST him," Dipper replied. "I'm saying I want to know more about him. Where he came from, why he's here, why this crystal is so important, and why the Author doesn't mention anything about any of this ANYWHERE."
This was the sight Xerxes entered upon; he panicked upon seeing Dipper cradling the star shard. In his mind, he was already lucky the shard hadn't transported Dipper elsewhere, leaving Xerxes high and dry. "NO!" Xerxes cried, shooting forward. "NO TOUCH!" He clamped his jaws around the shard, hurtling toward the ceiling, where he threw on the brakes and hovered.
"HEY!" Dipper cried indignantly, sliding off the bed. "I just want to know what this thing is, okay? Since you wouldn't tell me!"
Xerxes shook his head. Had he not been fully employing his mouth in carrying the shard, he would have reminded Dipper that he had promised to leave the star shard alone. Having nothing he could say due to a full mouth, he turned and sped out of the room, angry.
"Way to go, Dipper," Mabel groaned. "You hurt his feelings. You broke his trust!"
"Well, I'm pretty sure he's been breaking mine," Dipper argued, folding his arms.
Xerxes had half a mind to simply fly out of the Mystery Shack then and there, but despite Diablo being absent for quite some time, he knew he couldn't feel safe from the raven's attacks. He would have to make peace with the twins sometime…and find somewhere to hide the shard so that it wouldn't get disturbed.
He recalled having watched Soos interact with a strange large device some time ago; Soos had entered a code in a keypad on the vending machine and it had rewarded him with food. Xerxes had somehow missed the part where a transaction of money was involved, thinking acquiring a snack was just as simple as pressing the right buttons. Feeling a peckish urge, he floated up to the vending machine's keypad, not knowing what code Soos had used but willing to try anything and everything. He slapped the keypad with his tail, trying every combination he could conceive.
After some time, he hit upon a combination that did something, but it wasn't the result he expected. No food was dispensed. Instead, the vending machine swung aside as though it were an overly thick door, revealing a dark stairway on the other side.
Intrigued, Xerxes floated in, making his way down. The stairs ended at a wall with another door set in it: one made up of two panels, with no handle. Figuring this door had to be opened somehow, Xerxes searched around, locating a metal box with another keypad inside. From there, it was just another bunch of guesses and random button presses until the right code was entered. This caused the doors to open up into a cramped room with no other exit.
Xerxes had seen a few elevators in the warship base and recognized this as one. He entered, letting the door close behind him, and pressed the buttons that took the elevator down to the lowest level. There, the door opened upon a corridor lined with technological hardware, multicolored lights blinking and illuminating the otherwise dark path. Xerxes was by now too curious to turn back, wondering why he'd never seen this part of the shack before.
The eerily lit corridor led him to a desk of sorts where a figure shrouded by shadow sat with their back to Xerxes, flipping switches and cross-referencing a diagram made up of three books placed adjacently. Above the desk, a spacious glass window showed the way into an immense arena beyond, where a great upside-down triangle was illuminated. As the figure fiddled with the switches, lights flickered on and off around the triangle.
"Come on," the figure muttered in a gruff voice. "Come on…"
Many people would have realized this was not something to be interrupted, and the best bet would be to leave the way one had come. Xerxes did not read the situation properly. Instead, he slithered up to the mysterious figure, trying to sound out the question "What doing?" around the shard in his mouth.
"GAAAAAAH!" The figure spun in his chair, tipping it over and hitting the ground. Xerxes could see by now that it was Stan. Xerxes was suddenly filled with hope; was Stan working on a doomsday device? This was obviously a secret plot; was it also evil? Was there a benefit to working with Stan beyond just comfort after all?
"You…" Stan panted, pulling himself up by the edge of the desk. "Sky eel. It's you. How'd you get down here?"
Xerxes made a sound that indicated "I dunno."
"Doesn't matter," Stan huffed. "How much did you see? Oh, who am I kidding? You saw everything! Listen, sky eel. You can NOT tell the kids what you just saw down here. You also can't tell Soos and you can't tell Wendy. You can't tell ANYONE. This stays between you and me, got it?"
Xerxes had not, in fact, gotten it. He felt as though what he'd stumbled upon made perfect blackmail material, and he wasn't about to let Stan get away with it so easily. His chuckle tipped Stan off to this fact.
"Oh, boy," Stan grunted. "…Come with me, sky eel."
He reached up and wrapped a meaty fist around Xerxes' body, walking the struggling eel to the elevator.
"I know your type," Stan explained on the way up. "I figured it out from that laugh. That's the same laugh I do when I find a new way to get money quick. You're gonna hold this against me. Extort me with it. And whether or not I slip up, you're gonna rat me out anyway. Is that it?"
Xerxes was too proud of himself to lie. "Uh-huh!" he asserted, nodding fervently.
The elevator door opened at the bottom of the dark stairway. "Then you're gonna have to get lost," Stan declared.
What Stan was thinking of was putting a blindfold on Xerxes, throwing him in the trunk of his car, driving far out of town and making several loops so the eel couldn't tell which way they'd gone, then releasing him so far away from the Mystery Shack that he wouldn't be able to find his way back at least until Stan had completed his work with the portal.
What Xerxes interpreted was that Stan was going to kill him.
Xerxes put up a more frantic struggle than ever, and once he and Stan reached the top of the stairs, he slipped out of Stan's grip, taking off through an open window. Diablo seemed to be long gone; it was worth risking the danger to shake Stan off his trail.
"HEY!" Stan yelled, barging out the door, panic surging through him as he watched the creature that knew far too much and was able to give it all away to the wrong people flit into the distance. "GET BACK HERE!" He bolted after Xerxes, who was making a beeline for town.
The people of Gravity Falls were startled to see a flying eel speeding down the streets. However, they were perhaps even more frightened by the sight of a visibly angry Stan Pines chasing after said eel and screaming at the top of his lungs.
Lazy Susan poured a coffee each for Sheriff Blubs and Deputy Durland. A zooming Xerxes shot into the diner, circled Susan three times, knocked over the coffee cups so their contents spilled into the officers' laps and splashed upon the hapless waitress, and sped right back out. Stan barged in, bellowing, "WHICH WAY DID HE GO?"
The only response he got from Susan, Blubs, and Durland was "OUCH! OUCH! HOT! HOT! HOT!"
Bud Gleeful popped open the hood of one of the cars on his lot to let Tad Strange get a good look at the engine. "I can guarantee you that this is a bona fide 70 horsepower engine!" Bud bragged.
Before Tad Strange could comment, Xerxes buzzed through, causing Bud to let the hood drop. Stan leapt onto the hood, shaking his fist and screaming, "YOU'RE NOT GETTING AWAY WITH THIS, YOU FLYING LITTLE CREEP!" before leaping down and continuing the chase.
"Uh…'scuse me a moment." Bud retreated to behind the car, where he sat down on the ground before pulling a cell phone from his pocket. He speed-dialed a single key, lifting the phone to his ear. "Toby? This is Bud. We got a little situation – "
"I SEE IT!" Toby Determined cried as Xerxes and Stan chased round and round in circles around him, causing him to drop the painted cinder block he'd been using as his camera on his foot. "OWWWWW!"
"We're gonna have to do some damage control," Bud hissed.
"Damage control is right!" Toby agreed as Xerxes and Stan went barreling down the street.
As they passed Tyler Cutebiker, the aptly named cute biker turned with eyes wide to encourage, "Get 'im! GEEEET 'IM!"
Pacifica Northwest squared up to make a shot at the fifth hole on the mini-golf course. When Xerxes flew into her field of vision, she screeched, and instead of the ball, her club smacked right into his head, almost causing him to drop the star shard. He kept moving; Stan was the next to come into Pacifica's range. She beat him multiple times with the club, yelling, "GET OUT OF HERE, YOU UGLY FREAK OF NATURE!"
"I'M NOT THE EEL!" Stan insisted. "THE EEL ALREADY LEFT!"
"I KNOW!" Pacifica cried.
Xerxes' flight course took him right into a junkyard. He stole a glance over his shoulder to see whether or not he'd lost Stan. In that moment of diverted attention, he flew right into an open grill, and said grill's owner slammed the lid shut on him. Xerxes dropped the shard onto the already heating metal bars in panic.
"HOOOOO-EE!" Old Man McGucket cried. "Gonna grill me some seafood for dinner tonight!"
"NO EAT XERXES!" Xerxes cried in hysterics. "XERXES SMART! XERXES TALK!"
"A TALKIN' eel!" McGucket identified. "Sounds even tastier!"
"NO EAT!" Xerxes cried, ramming into the sides of the grill's lid and finding he was unable to budge it. "Help Xerxes, and…Xerxes do anything! Help with any evil plans!"
"Help me with my evil plans, ya say?" McGucket thought it over. "Weeeeelllllll…I am buildin' myself a new giant robot outta pure spite in the hopes of usin' it to rain destruction upon my enemies. I s'pose that counts as evil. You'd really help me?"
"YES!" Xerxes cried. "Xerxes help! Just no eat Xerxes! And no touch Xerxes' crystal! And no tell Stan where Xerxes is!"
As if summoned by the mention of his name, Stan burst into the junkyard, panting heavily. "WHERE IS HE?" he roared.
"He who?" McGucket responded.
"The flying eel!" Stan growled. "That's he who!"
"Hmmm, now I don't happen to know any he who flyin' eels," McGucket pondered. "If I'd'a seen who he, I woulda told you where he. But I don't know where he, so I ain't tellin' ya where he. All I know is he who gotta be somewhere, is somewhere and somehow who he be. What he be? A flyin' eel? Ain't never heard what! And if I dunno what, can't tell ya where who! Who? Where? What – "
"GAAAAAAAAAAAH! FORGET IT!" Stan took off at a sprint out of the junkyard.
"Too hot!" Xerxes cried. "TOO HOT!"
McGucket lifted the lid of the grill. "Did whatcha asked," he said with a grin. "Now you ain't gonna get no trouble from him! Come on 'round back and take a look at my latest project!"
Xerxes tried to scoop up the star shard, but it was still hot from its contact with the grill. He let it lay there to cool and followed McGucket deeper into the junkyard, where a large tarp lay over a lumpy shape.
McGucket whisked away the tarp, revealing an enormous robotic leg. "Ta-daaaaaaa!" he revealed. "It's just the beginnin' of my newest death robot! I'm hopin' to make this thing strong enough to fight demons if I hafta! But we're nowhere near done! Whaddaya say, partner?"
"Xerxes help!" Xerxes promised gladly. This looked like a much more promising venture than working for Stan. It was still a far cry from home, but at least it was sinister.
"You're gonna need a name," McGucket mulled over. "Hmmm."
"Have name," Xerxes insisted. "Name Xerxes. Told you already."
"Sorry, what was that?" McGucket replied. "Got this problem where I sometimes go temporarily deaf in my left ear."
"Name XERXES," Xerxes reiterated.
"Nope," McGucket said with a shake of the head. "Still plumb deaf in that ear. Hey, how's about I call ya 'Ford'? I always did like me the name Ford. Can't really thinka why. Prob'ly 'cause it's short for Fiddleford, which is my first name."
"No Ford," Xerxes growled. "Xerxes."
"Still can't hear ya!"
Xerxes sighed. "Fiiiiiine. Name Ford."
"Well, would ya look at that!" McGucket exclaimed. "I can hear again! It's a dadgum miracle! Anyway, let's get to work, Ford! Hand me that socket wrench!"
Xerxes gladly did so, watching McGucket go to work with socket wrench and blowtorch and trying not to think about how terribly he missed Mozenrath.
...
When Qilby detached the Eliacube from his person, taking on his pale skin tone and light brown hair, he went almost unrecognizable within the city of Bonta. Tyrian had an advantage, being fully unknown on that world; he kept his tail hidden just in case. As for Hades, no report of him coming from the Sadida Kingdom had contained a clear description, so no one tended to look at him and think he must have been one of the culprits responsible for the Eliacube threat.
"A question about those inhibitors," Tyrian posed, gesturing to the object in Qilby's single remaining hand: another sphere whose surface was covered in eyes that looked around fervidly. "Do they also repress Semblance, or just magic?"
"There has not been anything on this world that resembles Semblance as you know it," Qilby answered, "so nothing is certain. However, its reach goes a little beyond what you would call 'magic.' Is there a reason?"
"Just making sure Roman Torchwick can't use his little power against us," Tyrian stated.
"What's he got, anyway?" Hades asked.
"You know, I'm not certain," Tyrian admitted. "But my goddess seemed quite enthralled by his power. Enough that she overruled my MANY attempts to dispose of him in favor of a more cooperative recruit."
Just then, a rather large group of people crashed into Hades.
"Whoa, whoa, whoa!" Hades backed up, swinging both hands in front of his person to signify the intruders should back up. "Personal space, babe!"
"Our apologies, Monsieur," a heavyset woman in pink said quickly.
"Won't happen again," a tall woman in white added.
"We're really just passing through," a raven-haired woman in blue chimed in.
At least, Hades believed all three to be women at the time.
The trio shuffled away, bringing their entourage with them. One of them called out "Toodles!"
"Sooooo that just happened," Hades groaned. "Oi. Mortals just do not get the concept of the personal bubble. Anyway, Qilby, you were on about where we were gonna hide the next doohickey."
Around the corner, the WHAM ARMY convened, speaking in hushed tones. "Okay, Mister Twister, I get the catchphrase is your thing and all," Roman hissed, "but one of these days, people are going to figure us out by it."
"Hasn't happened to me yet," Peter replied coyly.
"We are in a metropolis!" Yzma announced. "Good! We can enact plan A! We must work quickly, before they have a chance to leave!"
"All right," Mozenrath sighed, "let's do this."
...
The sun shone down at just the right angle through the glass lenses, burning the rope stretched along the main thoroughfare until it snapped, releasing the first plank in the set of dominoes and beginning the chain reaction.
The flash mob spun and leapt in time to the music, forcing Qilby to have to find a way around them as he cursed the circumstances that had caused himself, Tyrian, and Hades to become separated.
Among the flash mob were the owners of most of the shops in the square, leaving Roman, Rémington, and Ragdoll enough time to steal everything that wasn't nailed down in their absence and pile it into Mim's purse. Of course, remembering the plan, they made sure to locate and acquire a bowling ball.
Snatcher and the Huntsman, disguised as workmen, carried a pallet of lumber across the thin street Qilby was making his way down, forcing him to take a turn. They immediately changed course in order to cut him off at the right time at the next designated location.
Roman launched the bowling ball down a side street, where it hit a spring-loaded plank and was flung into the air.
Tyrian barged out of the toy store with teeth clenched in rage, pounding one fist against the flat of the opposite wrist-blade to see if he could un-jam the gum from the gun barrel. Wuya flitted out the back door, popping a gum bubble playfully in her mouth as she did so.
The dominoes finished falling, triggering the lever that set the small motor car running.
The bowling ball bounced off three different gables at wildly different angles.
Tyrian was beginning to suspect something was wrong. When the smell of fresh-baked pie didn't divert him from his course, the backup element certainly did. Tyrian knew enough that when you heard a loud buzzing sound accompanied by several perfect strangers running at you full steam and screaming "BEES! BEEEEEES!", you had better start running as well. After all, the WHAM ARMY had made sure there would be actual bees.
The choreography of the flash mob caused the woman in the rightmost corner to step on the mechanism that started feeding the second rope through the pulley.
Hades flamed his way out of a hotel lobby in anger. "There is NO SUCH HOLIDAY AS HADESMAS, IS THERE?" he roared. "Okay, that's it. That is IT. I have a SPECIAL corner of Tartarus reserved for WHOEVER'S BRIGHT IDEA IT WAS TO MAKE ME WASTE THAT MUCH TIME!"
Aghoul teleported out of the hotel before Hades could find out that he was the one who had informed the staff that they had better call the Lord of the Dead to all the proper rituals, including putting up the myriad of decorations meant to celebrate him.
Down in the sewers, Mozenrath unleashed a wave of magic that pushed forth a barrage of water, causing it to explode through several sewer grates above. The flash mob disbanded, not wanting to get rained on by the contents of toilets. An exploding grate also caused Qilby to change course, now going deep into a network of alleys.
With the square empty, Rémington positioned himself at its center to aim a pistol at the second rope; as soon as it finished heaving up the weight, Rémington shot, detaching the weight and making it fall on the seesaw that made the rubber band ball go flying; it crossed paths with the bowling ball in midair.
Rémington then fired three quick shots into the air, followed by a pause, followed by three more: the signal for the WHAM ARMY to gather, because the endgame was approaching. As he scuttled off down a side street, Hades and Tyrian ran into each other.
"Someone's trying to screw us up," Hades growled through clenched teeth.
"When did you notice?" Tyrian replied sarcastically.
"Maybe around the time we were on our third burnt offering and nobody knew Cerberus' name." Hades recognized the sarcasm; he was still on an anger rush, however, and needed to purge it from his system.
"For me, it was around the time of the hail of foam darts," Tyrian snapped. "Where is – "
"He's not with YOU?"
The pair turned to dash into the alleys, seeking out Qilby.
Ten large barrels and one conspicuously smaller barrel surrounded the spot where the finale was to take place.
The bowling ball landed in a gutter, rolling along until it triggered crossbow number one.
The rubber band ball ping-ponged between two walls until it hit crossbow number two.
The motorcar ran over the mechanism that pulled the string causing the scissors to snap, dropping an anvil onto the trigger of crossbow number three.
As the three bolts left their weapons, the fuses were ignited by friction, exactly as Yzma had planned – though, of course, everything else had also gone exactly as Yzma had planned.
Qilby wandered into the back alley just as all three weapons discharged. And as the explosives hurtled toward him –
He was suddenly powered by the Eliacube once more, the cube serving as his missing arm. He leapt into the air with a graceful backflip, letting all three bolts collide and explode. He landed some distance away from the target spot, completely unscathed by even the aftershock of the explosion.
He took a few moments to let it sink in to any observers that he had not, in fact, been obliterated by the heavy weaponry. A quick glance around showed him where the observers were most likely to be hiding; he strode toward the nearest barrel and kicked it hard. "Come out," he demanded.
And Yzma did come out of the barrel, popping up like a jack-in-the-box. "HOW DID THAT NOT WORK?" she screamed in Qilby's face. "Everything was planned to perfection! The timing was perfect! The trajectories were perfect! Nothing was out of place! HOW DID YOU KNOW?"
"Simple." Qilby walked back to where he was supposed to have blown to bits, where there were now large pockmarks in the walls from the blast. "X marks the spot." He grinned as he pointed down to the giant red X that had been painted where he was to have met his doom.
Mozenrath popped out of another barrel, yelling, "I TOLD YOU NOT TO PAINT THAT THERE!"
"Where are the rest of your friends?" Qilby asked. "The other barrels? Come out, come out, wherever you are, before I have to start demolishing barrels one by one."
At once, Roman, the Huntsman, Snatcher, Wuya, Ragdoll, Rémington, Mim, and Aghoul showed their faces from within the larger barrels; Grany poked his head out of the tiny barrel. "Nine to one, Rabbit Ears," Roman announced. "Not good odds for you."
"You think that's what's under my hood?" Qilby allowed himself a chuckle. "It seems you have me surrounded. No, wait…look again."
In a brilliant flash, portals of bright sea green appeared in the air around the WHAM ARMY from every angle. Qilby disappeared through one himself to get on the outside of the circle of opponents.
"Oh, yeah?" Mozenrath scoffed. "What do you intend to do with those?"
The portals paired up, each connecting with a buddy, and every time a set was made, a thick beam of energy emitted from it, causing a criss-cross of blazing hot beams. Everyone in the WHAM ARMY was forced to leap or bend into an awkward position in order to avoid becoming fried.
As the beams subsided, Hades and Tyrian barged into the alley. "Y'know, I should be surprised, but lookin' at this, I'm not really surprised," Hades commented.
Tyrian ran his tongue along the flat edge of one of his blades before saying, "These still work as blades, you know."
The network of green portals shimmered, ready for another round.
"RETREEEEEEAAAAAAAT!" Yzma screeched.
A Corridor opened beneath them, sucking the eleven down into it just before an even tighter-knit network of beams was unleashed.
...
Yzma, Wuya, Aghoul, Mim, Rémington, Grany, Ragdoll, the Huntsman, Snatcher, Roman, and Mozenrath found themselves in the midst of a busy street in Brakmar, needing a moment to process their surroundings and catch their breath.
"You know, we might have been able to take them," Mozenrath pointed out.
"I would have at least tried," Wuya added.
"I panicked," Yzma admitted.
"You weren't the one who made the Corridor," Mozenrath reminded her.
"Well, then, I panicked too," Aghoul confessed.
"…Why?" Mozenrath was perplexed. "There's nothing they could even DO to you. YOU'RE DEAD."
"Exactly," Aghoul stated, "meaning Hades already has a flag planted right in the middle of my soul. We're not taking them on again until we have better magic. OLDER magic. Now, since I WAS the one who made the retreat possible – "
"You put us literally right back where we started," Yzma droned.
"And I know where it is we should go next," Aghoul went on, "I believe a certain compass now belongs to me." He extended his hand, palm upward.
Yzma begrudgingly held out the compass. When Aghoul reached to take it, however, she swiped it away with a "HA!" Then: "Oh, all right, here. Take it." She offered it again, but when Aghoul grasped for it, she pulled it away again: "HAHA!"
"Oh, VERY mature!" Aghoul rolled his eyes before diving at Yzma to rip the compass out of her hands; she spun in place to keep it away from him. At last, Aghoul took advantage of a misstep and emerged victorious, compass in hand.
"To your credit, Yzma," Mozenrath said, slightly stunned from the revelation, "your plan…actually almost worked. It was perhaps the most ridiculous plan I've ever heard in my life, and I'm willing to put several denarii on that including plans I don't remember hearing, but we almost had them."
The others all made sounds of agreement.
"Thank you," Yzma said dryly. "Now, perhaps, we can stop referring to bad plans as 'Yzma plans.'"
"MOST of your plans are still batshit," Roman commented.
"Well, Ghoulie?" Mim asked. "Where are we going next?"
"Well, as I said, we're going to need old magic to defeat our foes," Aghoul theorized. "Whenever I wanted revenge or conquest back in Agrabah, old magic never failed me. The Black Viper, the spells of wizard Khufu, et cetera, et cetera. So, tell me, Rémy. Where is the most ancient place of power on this world?"
"I don't know exactly what you expect to find there," Rémington answered, "but there is one very definite place you can trace back to the beginning of just about everything of note that happened on this world."
...
The Spitfires had made quite some headway through the tunnels of the Balmera, having passed crystal after crystal that just came up shy of the size needed.
The Spitfires, to be clear, were Irmaplotz, Snipe, and Garfield, the latter of whom had come up with the team name. Neither Irmaplotz nor Snipe had protested; in fact, they thought it sounded like a name that was both fun and intimidating.
"And I say as the icing on the cake," Garfield suggested, "we make a banner with an insignia for each of us surrounded by fire. I'm thinkin' a mace for Snipe, a book for Irma, and a literal firefly for me."
"That'd be rad!" Snipe said with a nod.
"My love for you is like a fire," Irmaplotz recited. "Trust me, I am not a liar. I have passion like a flame. Please tell me you feel the same. When I see you, I get heartburn. You're as pretty as a beech fern."
"That was terrible," Garfield commented.
"It's one of my favorites, actually," Irmaplotz stated. "It's from Ped Xing's short-lived romantic period. Fire always reminds me of it."
"Uggghhh, I hate mushy stuff!" Snipe complained. "Didn't this guy ever have a war period or anything?"
"Actually, yes," Irmaplotz answered. She cleared her throat: "War is like a raging fire. People die and times are dire. Weapons of war are like a flame. Soldiers play it like a game. When I see war, it gives me heartburn. Soldiers trampled all the beech ferns."
"Okay, now you're making that up," Garfield accused.
"Nope." Irmaplotz shook her head. "It's real."
"Well, I liked it a lot better than that other one," Snipe emphasized.
Rounding a corner took them to a site where an immense crystal lay half buried. "Think that thing's as big as it looks?" Garfield asked.
"Only one way to find out," Irmaplotz told him.
"Pay dirt," Garfield remarked.
"It looks more like a crystal to me," Snipe stated.
"Let's just figure out how to get this thing out of here." Irmaplotz knelt by the crystal. "Hmmm."
"Can't we just dig it out?" Snipe asked.
"This isn't a planet with actual dirt, remember?" she recalled. "We're inside a living creature."
"Right," Snipe realized. "We're inside its guts. Ewwww. …Pretty awesome, actually."
"What difference does it make?" Garfield asked. "Or are you some kind of animal rights activist? Newsflash: no one else here cares if the thing gets hurt."
"You'll care if the Balmera suffering pain triggers an earthquake," Irmaplotz pointed out.
"Okay, that's fair," Garfield admitted. "So what do we do?"
"See if it responds to magic," Irmaplotz suggested, placing her hands on the ground. A green glow surrounded her fingers, spreading toward the crystal. The crystal budged slightly upward.
"That did something!" Snipe observed.
"It took a little out of me," Irmaplotz commented.
"Like a Mozenrath's gauntlet kind of thing?" Garfield asked.
"Not quite," Irmaplotz responded. "It's a way smaller scale. Getting it out won't kill me. It'll just make me really tired."
"Then let's get this operation under way," Garfield demanded. "You can get your beauty sleep later, after we show Iceman how bad we beat him to the punch."
"He thinks we're such screw-ups!" Snipe added. "I can't wait to see the look on his face when he sees that we found the crystal first!"
"Assuming we actually found it first," Irmaplotz pointed out.
A low chuckle reverberated throughout the tunnel. "What you found doesn't matter," a raspy female voice stated. "Because I just found you."
The air shimmered between Irmaplotz and the crystal; Irmaplotz stumbled over backward. Snipe and Garfield immediately stepped up next to her, ready to defend, as she put up her hands, glowing green with malicious energy. From the feet upward, Mirage materialized before the Spitfires, laughing as she looked them over. "This is what passes for an alliance nowadays?" she mocked. "A hopeless teenage romantic who can't control her emotions. An unstable mortal who has no strengths to speak of outside of his armor. And a warrior whose head might as well be filled with rocks."
Irmaplotz had by that time gotten to her feet. "At least it beats being a housecat with delusions of grandeur."
"As an expert on burns," Garfield contributed, "that was a sick one."
"Ha!" Mirage spat. "I don't concern myself with the opinions of children who want to play villain."
"What do you want?" Snipe barked.
"You work for Mozenrath, do you not?" Mirage asked. "I see he's been trying to grow bigger than the pond he stews in. Not that I actually expect him to get anywhere, but this should make for some good fun. I want to strike fear into his heart, and I want to do it slowly. I'll start by picking off his three most useless associates and leaving him to wonder when I'll start moving up the chain. And I WILL move up the chain."
"So it's a fight you want!" Snipe removed his mace from where it had been strapped to his back, smacking it against his free palm. "Well, guess what? You got it wrong! We're not the most useless! We're the most…useable!"
"Well, I won't argue," Mirage chuckled.
"Listen, lady!" Snipe went on. "You're messing with the wrong crew!"
Irmaplotz took Garfield's shoulder, guiding him three paces behind Snipe. "I'm going to make a Corridor between here and the reading room," she whispered. "You get to your room and armor up. Then come back to the reading room and call my scroll. When I hear it ring, I'll open the Corridor back up for you to come back through. Got it?"
"Why can't you just send me to my room and back?" Garfield whispered in return.
"Because I don't know where your room is," Irmaplotz admitted. "Seriously, no more time. GO."
"Messing with the wrong crew?" Mirage repeated. "All right. I'll buy it when you can prove it." She extended her arms to either side. At her beckoning, a host of fire-backed cats erupted into existence in a ring around the Spitfires.
Irmaplotz cast a Corridor, shoving Garfield into it with a "GO!" As soon as he was through, she shut the entrance connected to the Balmera; the other end would fizzle out as soon as he passed through in the warship.
"Haven't you heard there's strength in numbers?" Mirage taunted. "As wise as you think it was to dispose of your weakest link, thinning your numbers really wasn't the best idea."
Irmaplotz squared up behind Snipe, her back to his, glaring outward at the cats, who were pawing the ground, getting ready to charge. "You ready?" she asked.
"Born ready!" Snipe confirmed.
As the cats lunged, Snipe bellowed "SPITFIIIIIIIIIRES!" They piled upon him; he batted them away one by one. Irmaplotz didn't even let any get close to her; she knocked them back with bursts of green every time.
Neither of them felt even a scrap of fear when faced down with the cats. Snipe had difficulty believing that he wasn't stronger by a factor of ten than these feline foes, and Irmaplotz simply hadn't yet been given a reason to be afraid, so she didn't speculate one. Both felt completely confident in their ability to knock back the cats as quickly as they came, and when the cats began to shrink before their very eyes, their flames dousing, that confidence only grew.
"WHAT?" Mirage yowled. "I should have known! You're too STUPID to be afraid of me!"
"So that's your game," Irmaplotz realized. "You just want us to be afraid." She tossed aside another now-cool cat, the size of a house pet. "Guess what we're not going to do now?"
"That's what happens when you mess with the SPITFIRES!" Snipe roared, his mace slamming down hard on one of the cats with a crunch.
In the meantime, Garfield stumbled into the wrecked reading room back on the warship base, only needing a moment to get his bearings before taking off for his room. As he turned down the hallway, he was aware of a very slight mechanical sound. "What the – "
He turned to see a retractable cannon protrude its way out of the wall and aim itself at him.
Garfield made a dive, avoiding the red-hot blast at the last second. He landed on his stomach, rolling over onto his back to see nine more cannons gearing up to fire upon him from different points in the wall.
"Great," he muttered.
He rolled, struggled to his feet, and zigzagged around the cannon fire as it pelted down onto the floor. He couldn't make sense of it. Why were the ship's interior defenses going nuts? Had Vexen set them on some kind of intruder deterrent program before leaving? If so, hadn't he expected that one of them might head back to the ship ahead of schedule? No, he realized, Vexen wouldn't have accounted for that, and might have written off the accidental shooting of a teammate as "good riddance" depending on the teammate.
A high-pitched metallic squeal alerted Garfield to the saw blade that jutted out from the wall, speeding toward him at ankle level. He leapt, fumbling the landing and falling to his knees before tucking into a somersault to dodge the next cannon blast. "If I get out of this alive," he grunted, now back on his feet, "Iceman is dead."
The next hallway's wall panels opened up to reveal dart shooters, and as soon as Garfield came within detectable range, they began to launch darts as quickly as possible, creating an impassable wall. This wall did, however, leave an empty spot: the lower segment of the hallway, only just high enough for someone to crawl through. Garfield dropped to a completely flat position, pulling himself forward with his folded arms as he felt the darts whistle over his back. He was most of the way down the hall when the metallic whine returned and he realized why this part of the hall was clear of darts: so they didn't interfere with the saw blade.
He quickened the speed of his crawl, coming out of the rain of darts and standing just in time for the saw blade to catch up behind him; he leapt again, letting it pass through and continue on its merry way.
After overcoming defense after defense, Garfield scurried into his and Peter's quarters and slammed the door behind him, leaning against the back of it for a moment to catch his breath and praying there were no further hostilities in the apartment. The residential quarters seemed to be free of defenses. As soon as he'd made sure of this, Garfield made a direct course for where his battle suit was stored.
Armored up, Firefly zoomed back down the hallways through which he'd come, blasting the wall-mounted shooters so that they emitted no more darts and speeding through the cannons so quickly, they had no time to lock onto his heat signature. Scroll in hand, he landed in the reading room, punching I-R-M-A into the contacts list.
Back on the Balmera, Irmaplotz heard her scroll's ringtone, the noise of a strumming lute, sound off from within her pocket. She put up a deflection shield dome around herself long enough to open a Corridor of Darkness from the reading room to the tunnel; Firefly came jetting right through.
The cats, by that point, were already weakened from confidence, having no fear to feed upon. They were brittle, fragile. All they needed was a coup de grace to bring them down, and Firefly delivered this in spades from an aerial position, shooting the now kitten-sized monstrosities into oblivion. As the blasts connected, they went up in short bursts of flame before disappearing entirely.
Once the area was clear, Firefly planted both feet on the ground, with Irmaplotz and Snipe flanking him. "Go ahead," he dared. "Try us."
"You haven't seen the least of what I can do," Mirage growled. She swiped through the air with a hand, radiating sickly green energy in the form of a claw mark that arced through the air. It struck the Spitfire trio, bowling them over. While Firefly's suit protected him from the worst of it, Snipe and Irmaplotz's clothing was torn at the stomach, and blood trickled out of newly etched cuts on their skin. Still, all three picked themselves right back up, striking a battle pose as they glared at Mirage.
"All in?" Firefly asked.
"All in," Irmaplotz and Snipe agreed.
The trio charged at Mirage full tilt.
Mirage threw back her head and laughed, readying her worst and most painful magic –
And then Sendak called her name.
She vanished entirely, causing the Spitfires to crash smack into the crystal they'd been trying to excavate.
"Okay, what just happened?" Irmaplotz wondered out loud.
"I think we won," Firefly guessed.
After a moment of silence in which it was apparent that Mirage was not coming back, Irmaplotz summoned a healing potion into her hand. "Here," she said, thrusting it at Snipe. "You're bleeding. Drink."
"You got another one of those?" Firefly asked.
"You look fine to me," Irmaplotz told him.
"I am fine," Firefly told her. "You're the one who's bleeding."
Irmaplotz seemed surprised to hear this, having to glance down at where she'd been impacted in order to confirm it. She then called another potion to hand, downing it.
"So home base actually tried to kill me when I went back," Firefly brought up.
"I'm sorry, what?" Irmaplotz stared at him in confusion.
"Like twenty death traps went off and tried to off me," Firefly clarified. "If this is Iceman's form of a security system, he's going to pay for it later."
"He would have warned us," Irmaplotz countered.
"Would he?" Firefly posed.
Irmaplotz nor Snipe could argue with the implication. "Let's just dig up that crystal already!" Snipe urged.
"All right, all right," Irmaplotz grunted, kneeling down on the ground and settling her hands in place. Green energy radiated throughout below; the crystal shuddered, then shifted up, out of where it was buried until it lay aboveground within the tunnel.
Irmaplotz stood, wiping sweat from her brow. "Yeah, I could use a nap," she remarked. "Snipe, you're carrying the thing, right?"
Snipe hoisted the crystal up over his shoulder. "Let's go wipe that stupid look off Vexen's face!"
"You mean his perma-frown?" Firefly retorted. "I don't think there's any getting rid of that."
"I'll figure out where he is." Irmaplotz withdrew her scroll, tapping the screen to get to Vexen in her contacts. She dialed; it rang and rang. "Huh. Weird." She shrugged. "I'll try him again. Let's just start walking."
As the Spitfires began to make their way back down the tunnels, retracing their steps as best they could – which wasn't well at all – they never thought that perhaps Vexen was unreachable because he was in the middle of something grueling.
...
Encre Noir and Elaine dropped Sora, Jasmine, Papyrus, Stork, Ruby, Amalia, and Yugo off at the nearest port on the mainland, reminding them of who to come to if they ever needed another ride across the sea. From there, the search began for a clue to where Mozenrath had headed, or what to do about the Qilby situation.
The journey took them through village after village. Amalia had warned the group that Yugo was hardly able to resist helping anyone who approached him, and it was true. Along the way, the group ended up defending two villages from invading bandits, finding a lost Bow Wow, doing some light fundraising to build a school and then helping lay foundation for construction of that school, reuniting two long-separated lovers, and getting a Bow Meow out of a tree.
Relaxing in a shady apple tree grove for a spell on their journey, the motley heroes nibbled upon the wild fruit and discussed recent events.
"We should probably practice that Drive thing more," Ruby suggested. "We need to get good at it."
"NONSENSE!" Papyrus scoffed. "WE ARE ALREADY GOOD AT IT! IF ANYTHING, WE SHOULD PRACTICE TO STAY IN SHAPE! ALTHOUGH…" He trailed off cryptically.
"Although what?" Jasmine asked.
"SORA, RUBY, AND I HAVE ALREADY DONE THIS 'DRIVE' TOGETHER," Papyrus pointed out. "JASMINE, YOU AND STORK HAVE NOT TRIED IT YET."
"That's right!" Sora realized. "I bet the three of us could pull off some powerful stuff!"
"I'm willing to give it a try," Jasmine confirmed.
"There's…never been any recorded incident of people not being able to get their own bodies back after a Drive, has there?" Stork asked.
"Not that I know about," Sora answered earnestly.
Stork mulled it over. "Probably worth it."
"Okay!" Sora stood in an open area of the grove. "Let's give it a shot!" He put his arms out to either side.
Jasmine took ahold of his left hand; Stork grasped onto his right. Shimmering golden light surrounded all three before they merged. In a burst of sparks, Sora received his new clothing: green of various shades, from sea to lime to forest. His pant legs were loose and his top tight. He now held his standard Keyblade; a blade with a sweeping blue handle, a swordlike shaft edged in red, and teeth that resembled a golden half-heart – this was Divewing – and a fluted golden Keyblade with blue accents: Three Wishes.
"This is weird," Stork babbled from inside Sora's mind. "This is weird, weird, weird, WEIRD."
"Need to leave?" Sora asked.
"I came this far," Stork told him. "There's no going back for me now."
Sora took that as the acceptance it was. "So what do you wanna try?" he asked.
"I have an idea!" Ruby sprang in front of Sora. "I'll fight you. Not for real; just for practice. You can try out all the stuff you wanna."
Papyrus turned to Amalia and Yugo. "DO YOU TWO WANT TO BE NEXT?" he asked as Sora and Ruby began to clash blades.
"I don't know if we're close enough to Sora to make it work," Amalia admitted. "I'll just stick to my plants, thank you."
Yugo nodded. "I agree with Amalia. It's nothing against Sora. But the five of you came here together, and the two of us are new to you. It's better if this stays between the five of you for now. Besides, I already have all I need."
"SUIT YOURSELF," Papyrus said before getting up to flank Ruby. "I WILL FIGHT TOO! DO YOUR WORST!"
As Amalia flopped down to sit at the base of a tree, Yugo decided, "I think I'll go for a walk," and set out to stretch his legs while the others dueled, Sora figuring out the increased capacity for magic that Jasmine and Stork gave him. Leaving the noise of clashing blades and bones in the distance, Yugo entered a realm of far less noise: his own feet crunching against the twigs on the ground, birds squawking in the air. It was nice, he thought, to simply drink in the quiet in between moments of excitement. That just made it all the more fun to get back into the thick of the action.
But he wasn't alone; he heard the noise of a larger person stumbling through the grove. From around a tree, there appeared a lanky man with long, rumpled brunette hair, limping into view, going down on one knee and panting.
"Are you okay?" Yugo asked worriedly.
"I'm…the only one…the only one who escaped…" The man's voice trembled.
"Escaped what?" Yugo asked.
"My…friends…Oma Island…" the man whimpered. "We were just explorers, looking for the old site of the home of Grougaloragran. Then he…HE CAME…I'd only ever heard about him in stories. Qilby…"
"Qilby!" Yugo repeated. "What happened?"
"I don't know whether my friends still live or to fear the worst," the man moaned. "I had to get away…I've been looking for someone…anyone…"
"Don't worry!" Yugo promised. "My friends and I can save your friends!"
"No…don't…please, don't…it's too dangerous…"
"Don't you know who I am?" Yugo asked him. "I'm Yugo the Eliatrope! And between me and my friends, there's nothing we can't handle!"
"Yugo?" the man said softly. "From…the stories? Yugo? It's…it's really you, isn't it? But…no. You still shouldn't go. He'll kill you!"
"I'd like to see him try," Yugo insisted. "Stay here. We'll get you medical help."
"No," the man insisted, shaking his head. "I can't stay. I won't. I have to keep moving. He might still be out to get me – "
"It will be all right!" Yugo called back, taking off at a run toward where he'd left his friends. "Just for a few minutes!"
But there wouldn't be anyone there when he returned. The man stood to full height, smoothing his hair back with both hands, pulling it into a ponytail that would do until he could fix it back into its proper braid. Tyrian smirked; he was lucky to have caught Yugo alone. He wasn't sure who all was traveling with him; hearsay had given strange descriptions of various people. But he did know Amalia was along for the ride, and Amalia would have recognized him immediately. It was Yugo he had truly wanted, anyhow. The boy's need to rescue all in danger would lead him right where Tyrian, Qilby, and Hades wanted him.
The WHAM ARMY wasn't the only one who could put together complex plans, Tyrian thought as he sprinted away from the grove. Unlike them, however, Tyrian wasn't about to fumble the last move.