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.

50. Red Like Embers

50. Red Like Embers

Clad only in fluffy towels wrapped around their waists, Xander Bly and Lie Ren made their way into the Kuzco Paradise Spa and Salon's sauna.

"I'm not used to being this exposed," Ren admitted.

"It'll be fine," Xander reassured him. "If anyone looks at you wrong, I'll divert their attention."

Xander pushed open the door to the heated wooden room, revealing a medium-sized space with a bench set around the wall. Said bench was only occupied by one other person: a man in his thirties with a face that Xander found very easy on the eyes. "Hello there," Xander greeted as he and Ren made their way inside the room, shutting the door to contain the heat.

"Salutatings!" the other man said with a smile and a wave.

Xander and Ren sat on the bench across from their company. "It's a real nice sauna, isn't it?" Xander said to make conversation.

"Of course it is!" the other man agreed. "Do you think I would acceptate anything less than perfectation? People as beautificious as us should only have the best!"

"Beautificious," Xander repeated. "Now there's a nice word. I should start using it."

"I wouldn't," Ren said softly.

"I'm Xander," Xander stated, leaving room for Ren to introduce himself if he so wanted.

"Novez," the other man replied. "And I am most defiantly a residentialite of this empire."

When it became clear that Ren didn't want any part of this conversation, Xander picked it back up. "Well, I'm not a local," he admitted. "I'm just here to relax with a couple of friends. Would you recommend any sights to see?"

"Well, there's always the palace," the man calling himself Novez suggested. "I like to look at it and imagine myself living in it one day."

"If you ruled this empire," Xander asked, "what would you do?"

"What WOULDN'T I do?" the man calling himself Novez responded without missing a beat. "I would have only the finest food for meals! I would sleep until whenever I wanted! I would hire someone to sing MY theme song! I would hire someone to write me a theme song!"

"Same," Xander laughed. "Though I'd go one step further and make my birthday a national holiday."

"Good idea!" the man calling himself Novez agreed. Then he realized: "Hmm. I don't actually know when my birthday is."

"You don't know your own birthday?" Xander said with concern.

"It doesn't matter!" the man calling himself Novez cried. "I shall PICK a birthday, and everyone will have to give me gifts!"

Xander couldn't help but smile at the enthusiasm. "Though really," he confessed, "all joking aside, if I were emperor, I'd do whatever I could to help people's lives be easier. That's what it's really all about, you know? Using your power to help those who don't have any. Feeding the poor and curing the sick."

"A heroic answer," the man calling himself Novez replied with a little uncertainty. "I…guess I would do all of those things too." He stood up sharply. "I've spent enough time warming up! I'm going to be late for my manicuration!"

"Well, it was a pleasure meeting you," Xander said coyly.

"Wiselike!" the man calling himself Novez insisted as he quickly shuffled out of the room.

Xander settled back against the wall and sighed. "You know, he was kind of cute."

"I don't know," Ren chimed in. "Something about him seemed…wrong. I can't really tell you what it was, but I got a bad feeling from him."

"Well, we won't likely be seeing him again," Xander replied. "Not unless fate crosses our paths. I hope it does."

"If it does, I hope it works out well for you," Ren said cautiously.

...

As promised, the employees of the Kuzco Paradise Spa and Salon were skilled in treating clients with hooves. Cadance lay down on a massage table as an attendant worked out the muscles in her back.

All the while, she was unaware of the fact that Yzma was receiving a massage one table over, and Yzma was likewise unaware of Cadance's presence.

A pair of deliverymen hoisted a long and wide mirror through the massage parlor, taking great care not to tip the mirror over and cause it any damage whatsoever. They walked slowly and carefully between the massage tables to get to the far end of the room.

"So what brings you to the spa today?" Yzma's masseuse asked her.

"Oh, you know," Yzma replied casually. "Just trying to relax in between attempts to take over all of existence."

Yzma's masseuse laughed it off, figuring it to be a joke.

When Cadance overheard, however, her head snapped upward, on the alert. She wanted, needed to know who would even joke about such things. She turned to glance in Yzma's direction.

But at that very moment, the mirror passed between her table and Yzma's. In the split second Cadance had her head up, she didn't process that the mirror was moving. She saw her own reflection and assumed the presence of a stationary mirror. Laying her head back down, she wrote off the comment she thought she had heard as a trick of the mind. There was no one over there. It was just a wall with a mirror inset.

As the deliverymen approached the far wall, the head masseuse stopped them. "What do you think you're doing?" she asked.

"Delivering this giant mirror, like you ordered," the front deliveryman said.

"I never ordered a giant mirror!" the head masseuse said in exasperation.

"You didn't?" the front deliveryman asked. "Isn't this 42 Kuzco Way?"

"Yes," the head masseuse barked, "but I don't need that mirror. Go try the hair salon section. Maybe they ordered it."

The deliveryman knew better than to shrug when he was holding a delicate pane of glass. "Well, okay."

The two deliverymen turned around, bringing the mirror back through the way it had come.

"You're really tense," Cadance's masseuse observed.

"Yeah," Cadance sighed. "Trying to stop the forces of evil from taking over multiple kingdoms will do that to you."

Cadance's masseuse, much like Yzma's, laughed that off as a mere jest.

Yzma's head jerked upward so she could see who exactly had talked about stopping the forces of evil from attaining conquest. This happened as the mirror passed through once more, giving Yzma a view of her own reflection.

To Yzma's perception, the woman she glimpsed at the adjacent table was beautiful beyond all reason. And if you were that beautiful, you couldn't possibly be a goody-two-shoes on the inside. Yzma knew she would put her full trust as a conqueror in someone who looked that good. Satisfied, she lay her head back down.

The massages continued without further incident.

...

"Thank you," a grateful Terra Atmosian sighed as Aladdin handed her a package of rations.

"Hey, it's no problem," Aladdin told her. "I just kinda wish we could do more."

"This is a lot," the woman affirmed.

Dilan leaned up against a nearby wall, flipping the pages of his book with care as his eyes traversed the text within. Sadira sidled up next to him, trying to get a peek at his reading material; once she was detected, Dilan shut the book.

"Whatcha readin'?" Sadira asked.

"I don't see how that's your concern," Dilan snapped.

"I'm just curious," Sadira emphasized. "What, are you hiding something?"

"No," Dilan grunted, holding the book up so Sadira could see the title. "It is a guide to advanced magics, such as the black sands. I wish to be well-informed about tactics our enemies may use against us…and what we may use to counter them."

"Nice!" Sadira complimented. "Mind if I get a look when you're done?"

"When I am done," Dilan growled, "and not a minute before."

"You must be real fun at parties."

"I was told as much in my younger days, before Xemnas. I wear my disposition as a badge of pride."

Sadira shrugged. "More power to you, I guess."

All conversation halted when a new voice became audible: "…don't buy the whole 'prince' act. How much royalty can you actually be when you come from the streets?"

"What?" Aladdin flinched. "Nick?"

"That couldn't have been Nick," Sadira argued.

"It sure sounded like Nick," Genie mused.

Vida's voice followed up: "You know what I REALLY don't buy, though? That Sadira is supposedly one of the good guys now. Can we really trust a witch of the sand who did all those bad things?"

"You could say the same about Dilan," Madison's voice chimed in. "Or should I say 'Xaldin'?"

"We're not focusing on the bigger problem here," Chip's voice concluded. "Good or bad, Genie is seriously annoying. Can't we just dump him on some other world?"

"Okay, that's going TOO FAR!" Aladdin stormed in the direction of the voices. Genie and Sadira followed tentatively; Dilan strode behind.

Riku and Kairi's skimmers sailed in over the Terra; they dropped to the ground and converted into bikes, pulling in to a synchronized halt. "Hey, everyone!" Kairi yelled, running into the center of town, holding up her prize for anyone she could find to see. "LOOK WHAT RIKU AND I FOUND!" Suspended aloft in her hand was the new Aurora Stone, gleaming bright as a star beneath the clouded skies.

She and Riku skidded into the midst of a heated argument between the Mystic Rangers, the Agrabah contingent, Jaune, Nora, Luna, Moana, and Dilan, all of whom formed a great circle to be able to face each other.

"I didn't say that!" Chip barked. "I WOULDN'T say that! I think Genie is GREAT!"

"Maybe that's what you say when you know we're listening," Aladdin snapped. "When we leave you alone, it's a different story."

"And thinking I'm still BAD?" Sadira added. "I thought everyone was past that!"

"But I never SAID that!" Vida argued.

"Right." Sadira folded her arms. "And your sister never said Dilan couldn't be trusted."

"I no longer wish to wallow in my past," Dilan grunted. "The scars are yet fresh."

"But I DIDN'T!" Madison insisted.

"You know, saying Aladdin isn't fit to be the prince sounds real familiar," Moana remarked, folding her arms to match Sadira's position. "Almost like telling me I wasn't anything special."

"For the LAST TIME!" Nora yelled. "I don't know who or what you heard, but that WASN'T US!"

"You were the one who called Nora weird!" Jaune snapped.

"No, I didn't!" Moana seethed between gritted teeth.

"Please, everyone, stop!" Luna begged.

"What's going on?" Riku asked as he stepped closer to the circle.

Nick stepped back to point toward him and Kairi. "You wanna know who's been saying bad things? It's been those two, all along. They were the ones who put down my team!"

"We did WHAT?" Kairi reeled.

"Explain what you heard," Riku demanded. "Now."

"Just you saying I was uncooperative and Maddie wasn't a fighter," Nick accused. "Then saying you should send us back to Briarwood after this mission."

"But we didn't!" Kairi was taken aback. "It was Chip who said he couldn't believe I was in charge earli – "

"No," Riku said harshly. "Don't fall into this trap. Something isn't right."

"I'll say something isn't right," Vida grunted. "Maybe we SHOULD go back to Briarwood if you don't think we belong here."

"And if you're not going to respect me," Moana added, "I'll just go right back home!"

"Hey, nothing's stopping me," Aladdin chimed in. "If you don't want me here, I'll leave."

"Maybe having so many people from different worlds work together wasn't such a hot idea," Jaune groaned.

Riku approached Luna, having remembered her simple plea for the others to stop arguing. "What's happening?" he asked.

"Exactly as it sounds," Luna told him. "Everyone keeps thinking they hear the others' voices demeaning them, but the ones who supposedly spoke have no memory of the incident. It cannot be mass denial. We could not all have decided to insult each other behind our backs."

"Right," Kairi said with a nod. "And I know this stuff isn't really how we feel about each other." She turned to Chip. "I'm sorry I accused you of – "

"Save your apologies," Chip spat. "Unless you're going to apologize for what you said about my team."

"I can't apologize for what I didn't do," Kairi insisted, "but I saw Maddie fight, and she's amazing. And, Nick, if you weren't cooperative, you wouldn't be part of our team in the first place. But you are! I don't want you to go home to Briarwood unless that's what you really want!" She stepped into the circle, casting her gaze over everyone. "I don't know what's going on, but someone or something wants us all to hate each other and split up. We can't let them win!"

"And if that something is you?" Nick growled.

"Let's just finish up our jobs," Aladdin grumbled. "Then we can get back to where we belong. Home, not Radiant Garden."

The groups split up, dispersing to different parts of the Terra. "Wait!" Kairi called out. "Please! We can figure this out – "

The only ones to remain behind were Luna and Riku. "I agree with you," Luna said calmly, "and will do whatever I can to resolve this conundrum."

"You think this is Maleficent?" Riku wondered out loud. "Mozenrath? Xehanort?"

"I don't know," Kairi sighed. "I just – "

Another voice drifted around the corner: "Some princess she is. I wish she'd just leave us alone. She keeps thinking she's helping, but all she ever does is get in the way!"

Kairi gasped, lightly touching her fingers to her chest. The voice had been Jaune's.

"I heard it too," Riku affirmed.

Kairi shook her head. "No," she insisted. "That's one I know. He would never say that about me, and I would never say anything like that about him! Someone really is trying to mess with us! I just…don't know how to figure it out."

"Let's deliver the Aurora Stone first," Riku suggested. "We can think about it on the way."

"I shall accompany you," Luna stated. "It would not be wise for us to separate given the circumstances."

Riku, Kairi, and Luna made their way to the Terra's tower. Within minutes, the beacon had been installed, and light permeated the Terra's sky, giving the impression that tensions were thinner than they were.

...

Was there a discreet way to keep an elevator stationary on one floor? Archibald Snatcher didn't really know. He figured that if anyone interrupted his task, he would think of some excuse on the fly to get them to leave. He called the elevator up to the first floor, stepping inside and resolving not to move an inch. Besides, it was close to midnight; who was going to use the elevator at such an hour?

Meanwhile, in the library, Grany leaned against one of the bookshelves, having plucked a book from the mess and resolving that reading "True Stories Behind Famous Portraits" would be informative about the world he was on at least. He waited to open the cover until he saw Rémington, Roman, and Neo off.

"If all goes well, this should be the goods," Roman stated, and Rémington and Neo backed him up with enthusiastic nods.

"Just don't kill my brother while you're in there," Grany told him.

"You're worried about ME killing HIM?" Roman turned to see an innocent smile plastered across Rémington's face.

Neo pointed two fingers to her eyes, then one to Rémington.

"How about nobody kills anybody?" Rémington suggested. "Anyway, we'll photograph everything we see, and hopefully we won't come back empty-handed."

"What do you even think is in there?" Grany teased. "A hoard of gold and jewels? An array of Shushus?"

"That's what I'm hoping for," Rémington said with a smile.

"Let's get a move on," Roman commanded. "I want to be in and out before sunrise."

"Good idea," Rémington told him.

Roman led the way up the spiral staircase and into the ventilation shaft; Neo crawled right in after him, with Rémington filling out the rear of the contingent. They wormed their way to the elevator shaft, climbing down the rungs with relative grace to reach the stairway that led to the elevator's lowest resting place.

"Hello again, door," Roman announced as he stepped into the small chamber. "This time, I'm going to have all the time I need to figure you out without anybody dropping an elevator on my head."

"You dropped that elevator on your own head," Rémington reminded him.

Neo tapped on Rémington's shoulder; when he turned to her, she held up a strip of black fabric she'd found on the floor. "That's mine!" Rémington cried as he swiped the torn half of his cape out of her hands.

Neo nodded; she had figured.

Rémington looked at the cape rather mournfully before tying the length around his stomach, above his weapon belt.

Roman had already gone to work on the sliding bars, testing out combinations until he had every single one open. The metal door swung with a rusty creak. "And we're in," he remarked, striding confidently through the door.

Neo and Rémington followed him to a low-ceilinged corridor; whoever had designed it had perfectly conveyed that it was meant to be underground. It forked in a perpendicular fashion several paces in; the trio could either go left or right.

"All right, team," Roman announced. "Cast your votes!"

"Right seems good," Rémington suggested.

"Reasoning?" Roman asked.

Rémington shrugged. "Just a feeling."

"Neo?" Roman turned about.

Neo pointed down the right-hand path.

"Right it is," Roman resolved, leading his companions down the chosen path. It sloped upward rather drastically, ending in a moderately sized door set in a stone wall. "Ladies and…Smisse," Roman said dramatically, "I give to you, beyond this door, a mystery beyond your wildest imagination! Our travels and misadventures have finally led us to this! BEHOLD!"

He threw open the door to reveal a view of one of the hallways on the first floor of the hotel.

"…A regular hallway in the middle of the building," Roman concluded. "Well, that's a letdown. What we're looking for had to be down the OTHER path – "

Neo began to hop up and down to get Roman's attention, waving her hands excitedly.

"Yes, Neo?" Roman asked.

She made several signs that Rémington couldn't even begin to decipher. "You're scared," he guessed. "No, you're hungry, and you think we should send someone out to get some snacks before we go back down the other path."

Neo shook her head furiously, pointing at Rémington and making more gestures.

"Neo!" Roman realized. "You're a GENIUS! Well, okay, actually, that was pretty obvious, and I'm not sure how I didn't think of it. When we tell this story, can we say I was the one who thought of it?"

"What's she saying?" Rémington asked, perplexed.

"This door leads right to the underground passage from the middle of the hotel," Roman reiterated. "We can get Archie and Kitty Cat in through this way, and they won't have to miss out!"

Neo made a gesture that resembled an opening door with both hands, slamming the pantomime door and hiding one hand behind the other.

"Riiiiiight," Roman realized. "This is probably a one-way door, or anyone could find it. I'll go get the others and bring them back here. I'll knock like this – " He rapped a distinctive pattern on the wall. "Then you two open the door and let us in. Neo, you're in charge of making sure Rémy doesn't run off down the other path without us. Got it?"

Neo nodded.

"Do you always have to assume I'll do the worst?" Rémington grunted.

"Have I ever not called what you've actually been thinking about doing?" Roman retorted.

Rémington was silent on that matter.

"That's what I thought," Roman told him. "I'll be back. Wait for the knock."

He let the door fall shut as he stepped out into the hall. From that side, it melted into the wall, with no apparent way to open it. Neo had been right on that front. Roman bolted as quickly yet quietly as he could toward the elevator.

He wasn't the first one to have run that course.

As Grany had continued reading his randomly selected material, a passage caught his eye. Something about it seemed all too familiar. He read over it a couple times. On the second read, he realized what exactly had triggered his memory, but his instincts shrugged it off as a coincidence. But on the third read, mulling it over, he realized there was no way it could be.

Book in hand, he thundered out of the library, opening his mouth and forming an "S" with it before realizing that would be calling out the wrong name. Ideally, he wouldn't be heard at all, but if there were any open ears, they had to hear the right moniker. "Frou Frou!" he yelled as he barreled toward the elevator. "FROU FROU!"

He pounded on the door of the elevator until Snatcher opened it from the other side. "Monseiur Smisse!" Snatcher huffed in frustration. "Precisely WHAT has prompted such a raucous display? You could very well draw all the wrong attention with that racket!"

"Frou Frou," Grany panted, handing over the book. "Read this." As Snatcher looked over the page Grany had indicated, Grany summarized it in his own words. "So this Queen Marie was given a crown by her husband to wear for a portrait, but she hated it because I guess it was too fancy or something. There's some kind of economic complication. She called it her 'crown of shame' and stowed it as soon as she got it. They painted her without it, and nobody has any idea what happened to the crown. But it had four jewels in it. There was a ruby, a sapphire, and an emerald. And there was a diamond. Do you get it?"

It clicked right away. "Are you suggesting," Snatcher reiterated, "that the gems we found throughout this hotel – "

"Weren't glass. Didn't you say the tower was from another country? I think it's the one Queen Marie was from. Those jewels were connected to it."

"And yet we have lost them," Snatcher reminded Grany. "Some upstart thief has robbed us of our ruby, our sapphire, and our emerald."

"But there's a diamond," Grany reminded him. "We never found the diamond! I will bet you ANYTHING it's still in that tower!"

"Anything?" Snatcher smirked. "Why, Monsieur Smisse, I would be tempted to take you up on that offer, but I do believe you to have found a thread of logic. It would be unwise to bet against you regarding this theory."

"Are you sure? Because I was hoping you'd offer to fix all my clothes for a month or something."

That was when Roman skidded into the hall. "Torchwick!" Snatcher greeted, taken aback. "I had thought you were deep within the bowels of this elegant labyrinth."

"I was," Roman replied. "Rémy, Neo, and I just found a back way in, and I figured you two wouldn't want to miss this. …Why are you both here, anyway? I thought Kitty Cat – "

"THAT'S my nickname?" Grany practically screeched. "Change it to something else!"

"Okay," Roman decided. "How does 'Sour Apples' sound to you?"

"I guess it's better than 'Kitty Cat.' I'm not sure what it means…"

"It's because your name sounds like…" Roman shook his head. "Whatever. I'm not explaining this. I thought Sour Apples was hanging back in the library?"

"He was," Snatcher confirmed. "Yet he made a most intriguing discovery there completely by accident. Come, come!" He playfully placed one hand on Grany's shoulder and the other on Roman's shoulder, and the three set off down the hallway. "Let us discuss Monsieur Smisse's findings as we investigate Torchwick's new route."

Before long, Roman, Snatcher, Rémington, Grany, and Neo were all headed down the subterranean corridor together, now carefully navigating the downward slope to the lower level to find the far end of the hall. That had given Snatcher and Grany enough time to relate the finding of the anecdote about the crown of shame.

"Yeah, I'll put money on that diamond being there," Roman remarked.

"You really can't," Grany told him. "No one's betting against it."

"We still don't know who exactly took the other gems from us," Rémington pointed out. "I want them back."

"We all want them back, Monsieur Smisse," Snatcher affirmed.

"We're completely underground," Rémington reminded him. "You really don't have to stay in character."

"Must you be such a killjoy, Monsieur Smisse?" Snatcher asked without letting up on Frou Frou's accent in the slightest. "Though you do make a point. We have somehow gained some sort of rival within these walls, and it simply wouldn't do to let him get away with what he's done without proper retribution."

Neo asked through pantomime how Snatcher knew it was a man who'd robbed them. Snatcher ignored her.

The floor finally leveled out, and the group passed where Roman, Rémington, and Neo had entered from the elevator shaft, moving down to the other end of the hallway and encountering some twists and turns in the corridor.

"All right, time for round two," Roman announced. "Ladies, gentlemen, and Rémy!"

"Because that joke was so hilarious the first time," Rémington grumbled.

Roman turned to face the rest of the group, walking backward. "We are about to view a mystery beyond imagination! All our hard work is about to pay off. In just a few short steps, we will find out exactly what it is we've been looking for! And…"

The others had all suddenly gone wide-eyed and slack-jawed at the sight behind Roman.

"Wha?" Roman spun back around to face front, and then he saw what had everyone so flummoxed. At one point, the path they'd reached had been blocked off, from floor to ceiling, by a grate of thick iron bars. Perhaps there had been a gate built in for access granted to whomever had the right key. But at the moment, only the edges of the bars remained, sticking up from the floor, pointing down from above, and some intact on either side. However, something of unknown origin had all but obliterated the bulk of the bars. Pools of hot melted metal rested on the other side of the blockage, giving a hint of sorts as to events.

"What…the…" Roman gasped.

There was a collective silence before Rémington pointed out, "Well, that's one gate we don't have to worry about figuring out a way past."

"That does not answer the most important question about this situation," Snatcher said with concern. "Was this recent?"

Roman removed one glove, kneeling to touch one of the spiky remains of the bars. As soon as his finger made contact, he drew it away, shaking his hand and hissing. "That's hot," he grunted as he stood back up. "Whatever happened here JUST happened here. Now, I'm no expert, but if I had to guess, I'd say it looks like somebody tore through these bars by throwing a gallon of hot lava at them."

"That is the most ridiculous thing I have ever heard," Grany groaned while Neo shook her head and rolled her eyes.

"Now, now," Snatcher scolded. "It may not be the most…credible explanation, but we have seen stranger, have we not?"

"Don't defend 'Somebody threw lava at the bars' just because he's your boyfriend," Rémington sighed. "Let's just keep going."

Rémington made to move forward, but Snatcher blocked him with an outstretched arm. "This may very well have been done by our rival," Snatcher theorized. "He is attempting to beat us to the tower and claim the diamond for himself. And this suggests he is somehow armed."

"Well, so are we," Rémington argued. "…We are, aren't we?"

"I am," Grany told him, tapping the sword strapped to his back.

"Why would I have brought my WEAPON here?" Roman groaned. "How do you think I could have gotten it through the vent while crawling? Of course I'm not armed!"

Neo shrugged; she'd left her blade behind as well in order to pass through the vent unencumbered.

"Well, don't look at me," Snatcher added. "A lady never carries a weapon in a public space of rest and relaxation. I had only planned on spending my time inside that elevator."

Rémington sighed. "Fine. Here." He shoved a pistol into Roman's hands. "You take this." A short knife into Neo's. "You take this." He looked at Snatcher. "And you…just…be ready to charm your way out of anything."

Neo sighed, handing over her knife to Snatcher.

"Trust her," Roman assured Snatcher. "She doesn't REALLY need it if she's determined enough."

"Well, then" was Snatcher's only response.

"Are we good?" Rémington asked.

"Let us press onward," Snatcher affirmed.

They stepped easily through what had once been a gate, finding another obstacle beyond. A pit was set in the middle of the floor, far too wide for even Rémington to leap across safely, leading so far down that none could see the bottom. A stone bridge connected one side to the other…perpendicular to the direction that the group needed it to be in order to ferry them.

"Okaaaaay," Roman groaned. "This is bad architectural design."

Neo pointed to the bridge, making turning motions with her arms; there must have been some way to turn the bridge so that it would span the pit in the proper direction.

"Knowing what we do of this castle so far," Snatcher mused, "it would only make sense for some sort of intricate puzzle to yield us a way across."

Roman clapped Rémington on the back. "All right, Rémy. You go fuck with something at random and magically get us across that pit."

"It doesn't work like that," Rémington sighed as he took a look around. On one of the walls of the corridor, there were five metal panels set at different heights. On the wall directly across from that, five chains dangled, each ending in a metal loop. Experimentally, Rémington approached the chains, tugging one down. Another one came with it. As he pulled another one down, still another went up. He stepped back, stroking his chin thoughtfully as he stared the chains down.

"He's gonna do it," Roman whispered to Snatcher.

"Oh, undoubtedly," Snatcher whispered right back.

In only a few minutes, Rémington had figured out how to align the chains with the panels on the opposite wall. There was a grinding of stone; all heads turned to see the bridge over the pit swiveling to connect their end to the far end of the pit where the hallway continued.

"Maybe it does work like that after all," Rémington said with a shrug. "Guess I'm just magic."

"Was it really a good idea to let this go to his head?" Snatcher asked as they approached the bridge.

Neo shook her head: a definite no.

In single file, they crossed the bridge and made their way deeper into the bowels of the building.

The halls became even more intricate in their layout; the quintet hit a couple of dead ends while trying to navigate the forks. At last, they came to a more open chamber that seemed to yield promise. Half of the chamber was taken up by a stone structure that looked like a smaller room had been built off to the side, but only taking up one level's worth of space. The center of the chamber was decorated by a small table. The chamber stretched up and up, a stairway made of flat stones protruding from the wall spiraling around and upward.

"I'd say this looks like the inside of a tower," Rémington commented.

"Well?" Grany said excitedly. "Let's go!" Before anyone else even thought to move, he was barreling up the stairway. And then he was brought to an abrupt halt. For one level off the ground, there were simply no more stairs. After a gap, though, the stairway seemed to resume. "WHAT?" Grany cried in dismay. "But we're SO CLOSE!"

Neo made motions reminiscent of flat stones breaking away from the wall; had the stairs simply crumbled away out of old age?

"No, no, Mademoiselle," Snatcher realized, approaching the table. "It is another puzzle! Does that not just seem to be the way?"

Grany resignedly made his way back down the stairs. "It's weird," he observed, pointing at the smaller room. "That doesn't have a roof. You can look right down into it from the gap in the stairs. There's nothing in there."

Rémington tried the door to the smaller room. "Locked," he observed. "If Snatcher's right about there being more stairs, don't fall off going up them."

Snatcher leaned over the table. "Just as I thought," he muttered. Roman, Neo, Rémington, and Grany crowded around him to see what he'd found. The table had a grid carved into its surface like a checkerboard. Three squares in random locations were colored pink, blue, and yellow. Three round tiles of matching colors lay on the edge of the board. Small walls separated some of the squares, but not others. When Snatcher nudged a round tile with a finger, it slid all the way until it hit a wall, and then stopped.

"I see," he mused. "So one must match the round tiles to their corresponding squares. A simple undertaking for a complex intellect, of course."

He slid the tiles around for a good minute without even getting them close to their homes.

"Maybe you should try moving the blue one up?" Roman suggested.

"And the pink one to the left," Rémington volunteered. "Actually, do that first."

"No!" Grany snapped. "The blue one needs to be there first to be a backstop for the pink one!"

This continued for some time:

"The yellow one needs to go that way."

"Have you tried backing the blue one up against that wall?"

"How is he supposed to get the blue one to THAT wall?"

"Well, maybe if the pink one was on top – "

"But then you'd have to move it right, and that's not right."

"So move the yellow one."

"No, the yellow one needs to stay where it is so the blue one can – "

"WILL YOU LET ME DO THIS IN PEACE?" Snatcher barked. Roman, Rémington, and Grany fell silent.

"Much better," Snatcher sighed, turning his eyes back to the board. "This cannot be as difficult as it seems. There must be a way to – "

Neo reached around Snatcher, sliding the pink tile into place. From there, the solution was suddenly obvious.

"Most insightful, Mademoiselle," Snatcher said in somewhat of a dismay, "though I was just about to come to that conclusion myself."

He clicked the tiles around the board until all three slid home. The grinding of stone above the quintet's heads let them know the stairway had put itself together.

Grany and Rémington nearly tripped over each other trying to be the first ones to get on the stairs. Roman shot Neo a look; "Can you take care of this?"

Neo seized both brothers by the earlobes, dragging them back and away from the staircase.

"Who's in charge here?" Roman reminded them.

"That question is kind of up for debate, isn't it?" Rémington attempted.

"Who," Roman repeated, "is in…charge?"

The Smisses sighed. "Snatcher."

"And you would both do well to remember it," Snatcher said as he stepped onto the lowest stair. "As such, I shall be the first one to ascend and see what reward we have reaped." His heels clicked loudly on the stone, echoing throughout the chamber.

"He's really going to climb that thing in heels?" Rémington said in wonder. "Does he have a death wish?"
"He's grace," Roman said with a shrug as he followed.

Neo was the next to fall in line, followed by Rémington, then Grany. The ascent ended at a small, unassuming-looking wooden doorway.

"Behold," Snatcher whispered to himself as he eased the door open. "A mystery beyond imagination."

Beyond the door was a room that so starkly contrasted the grim stone of the corridors leading to it, Snatcher wasn't sure at first that he was still in the same building. The walls were all painted bright gold, an engraved pattern of leaves curling about the chamber's midsection. The small round room featured a tile portrait of a woman in regal dress on one wall – a close observation would reveal it had been carved away in one spot. The floor was of a black and white checkered tile. But the most striking feature of the room was not the brilliant color of the walls, nor the wall-length portrait of Marie Antoinette indeed.

It was the fact that the room was, as Snatcher had suspected, already occupied.

Two people knelt over the center of the floor, where a shield-shaped design broke up the checkered tile pattern. They had already set the three medallions, blue, red, and green, in circular indentations. Now, one of them, a tall, thin woman with raven hair piled atop her head and a bright red gown with a long skirt enveloping her, was inserting what looked like a key into the center of the floor, turning it and watching as an entire circle of floor sank down below.

"This is it, Herb," she said giddily. "The last piece."

"You'll finally have a crown that's befitting of you, my queen," the other person, a man of an even taller and thinner figure, with short brown hair and dressed in a sharp green suit, replied.

A great red pillar rose up from the hole in the floor; atop it rested the largest, most resplendent diamond Snatcher had ever seen. The two strangers scrambled to their feet, eyes wide as they beheld it. "Scarlet," the man said, "it is even more beautiful than I imagined."

The woman's grin split her face from ear to ear, and she rapidly tapped her feet, her high heels clicking against the floor. "We did it, Herb. We actually DID IT. After all this time, we finally found the diamond!"

"And to think all you needed was to purloin the hard-earned medallions of much better thieves."

Snatcher's voice, high and lilting as Frou Frou, cut through the air like a blade. The pair of strangers froze, pivoting to look at where the door framed Snatcher. Confidently, Snatcher strode into the room, letting Roman, Neo, and the Smisses follow him and line up along the wall. Grany held his position before the door frame, blocking anyone from trying to make an escape.

The raven-haired woman's expression darkened (as her male companion remained flabbergasted). "Well," she growled. "I should have known you'd try to catch up to us. You've been sticking your noses where they don't belong from the moment you showed up."

"I'm sorry, but I don't believe we've met," Snatcher said casually. "Who are you, and what makes you think this diamond is yours?"

"Scarlet Overkill," the raven-haired woman said confidently, "and my husband Herb and I have only spent the past MONTH renting out a room in this hotel so we could sniff out this diamond. I don't know how you ended up with those medallions, but my guess is you just got lucky. Herb and I have been translating French journals, breaking codes, deciphering symbols, and discussing the history of this castle with the other guests since day one. You walked into this tower because we destroyed the gate. We actually found the key!"

"If you had the key," Rémington asked, "why did you break down the gate?"

"Well, one of us, not saying who, might have accidentally dropped the key into that weird room below the gap in the stairs," Herb stated. "And that someone might have totally been me, in which case, I'm still really sorry."

Scarlet's demeanor shifted briefly as she turned to Herb, gently pinching his cheek. "I told you not to worry about that, sweetie," she cooed. "Accidents happen! That's what we have the lava gun for!"

"I'm sorry," Roman broke in. "Did you say LAVA GUN?"

Herb reached down to pluck a sizeable gun off the floor; a transparent chamber revealed that it was filled with a bubbling red liquid. "Oh, you know it," Herb said with a sly grin.

"WHO CALLED IT?" Roman yelled with arms outstretched. "WHO TOTALLY SAID IT WAS LAVA?"

"Now, I don't have to ask who you are," Scarlet went on, turning her attention back to the invading group. "My sources told me all about you. Penelope Frou Frou. Oh, you may look all innocent on the outside, and you can charm the socks off everyone who looks your way, but you're not subtle about snooping. I knew you were messing around in the library. I knew you were after this tower. And once I found all three medallions in your room, I knew you'd put two and two together about the diamond. You understand why I couldn't let you keep them. This diamond – " Scarlet swiped it up into one hand. "Was earmarked for Overkill."

"Are you sure about that?" Roman asked, raising the pistol Rémington had lent him.

Herb cowered, clutching the lava gun tightly, but Scarlet held her ground, staring Roman down. "That's a threat," she stated.

"You bet your ass it is," Roman replied.

"It would seem you have earned the right to take that diamond," Snatcher mused. "You've put in the time and the work. It's only fair that you get to reap the reward. It's simply too bad that life isn't fair, my dear." He fired a grin at his companions. "There are five of us and two of you. How do you think this is going to end?"

"Herb," Scarlet said decisively, "get back against the wall. Don't be afraid to pull the trigger on them."

"You got this, my queen," Herb said as he backed up against the far wall.

Scarlet held the diamond high above her head. "You want this?" she taunted.

Snatcher drew the knife he'd been given. Rémington held up the one pistol he had left. Grany drew his sword. Neo cracked her knuckles.

"Come and get it," Scarlet said with a smirk and a wink.

Roman and Rémington fired in synchrony; Scarlet expertly ducked the blasts, not even a hair on her head getting singed, and the ammo impacted the wall on either side of the trembling Herb. Their shots having been thwarted, Roman and Rémington rushed Scarlet, fingers tightening on the trigger as they closed the distance.

Neither got the chance to fire. A knee slammed into Rémington's solar plexus, a high heel drove against Roman's face, a gloved fist pummeled Rémington's nose, another heel punched into Roman's crotch before an elbow drove down onto his back when he doubled over. Scarlet gave a spin that sent both Roman and Rémington flying back against the walls, hitting hard enough that Roman's crimson Aura was briefly visible crackling over his body.

Scarlet knew it wouldn't be long before the others acted. She leapt when Grany's blade swiped at her; as it cut through the pillar that had held the diamond, her shoes touched down on the flat of it and she rode the blade through the rest of the swing before dropping down beside Grany to stomp on his foot, deck him in the eye, and elbow him in the throat. She let Snatcher get close enough with the knife that he sincerely believed she hadn't noticed him, then bent over backward as he stabbed; quick reflexes halted the blade a hair's breadth away from puncturing Grany's chest just over the heart. This gave Snatcher and Grany a moment of pause that allowed Scarlet to spin again, knocking each in the stomach and the nose. Grany was shoved against the wall next to his brother, hard enough to crack the gold. Scarlet ducked behind Snatcher, wrenching his knife arm behind his back hard enough to force a cry of pain out of him before steering him forward hard into the wall beside Roman.

Still on her guard, Scarlet spun and threw a punch right at Neo's face. Neo bent back slightly, letting the gloved fist pass over her before she seized Scarlet's arm and threw her in an arc overhead, slamming Scarlet down hard on the floor. Scarlet's grip on the diamond didn't loosen, even when Neo reached down to grasp the gem. Scarlet took the opportunity to twist and aim a kick at Neo's midsection; Neo pirouetted to the side and planted her foot on Scarlet's neck, pressing down hard. Scarlet gagged and squirmed.

"MADEMOISELLE!" Snatcher cried; Neo looked up to see Snatcher tossing the knife, which spun through the air. The handle landed deftly in Neo's hand. As Neo raised the knife high, Scarlet wrenched herself from below Neo with a display of desperate force; the blade of the knife dug into the checkered tile.

"Borrowing this!" Scarlet said hurriedly as she grabbed the lava gun from Herb. As she spun it, she became aware of the point of the knife Neo held pressing against her neck, right on the spot that was still sore and growing red from the pressure of Neo's shoe. Scarlet was briefly overcome with fear, but it was replaced with confidence when she fully took in the position that she was in. She pressed the barrel of the lava gun right into Neo's stomach.

"You stab me," Scarlet warned, "and I pull the trigger."

The two women maintained eye contact, each daring the other to make the first move. Snatcher, Roman, Rémington, and Grany peeled themselves off the wall, ready to back Neo up at a moment's notice.

"EVERYONE STOP!" Herb stepped forward, waving his hands in the air. "JUST CHILL OUT FOR A MINUTE!"

"This had better be good, Monsieur…Overkill," Snatcher growled, still unused to the taste of that unusual surname on his tongue.

"Are we seriously fighting over this?" Herb asked. "Think about it. All of you found the medallions and the tower, but you couldn't get in without us breaking down the gate, and you never even got close to finding the key to the floor. We tracked down the trail of exactly how to open up the diamond vault, but we couldn't pop that bad boy open without the medallions you all found. Maybe that diamond actually belongs to all of us."

"Herb," Scarlet growled, "does this really seem like the time? You and I came here to get that diamond, we chased it for a MONTH, and you want to SHARE IT?"

"Scarlet, honey," Herb reminded her, "they picked up the medallions in two days. We only found the green one, and that was after two weeks."

"Listen," Roman sighed. "We already came into this deal realizing we'd have to split the winnings FIVE ways. We're not interested in splitting it SEVEN."

"Now, don't be too hasty, dear Torchwick," Snatcher broke in. "Monsieur Overkill may have a point, loath as I am to admit it. Neither one of our factions could have made it to the diamond without the other. Besides, these Overkills, they seem like-minded to us. Thieves and murderers who seek power, no?"

"That's more or less it," Herb confirmed. "Well, we actually don't kill THAT many people, but yeah, same basic idea."

"I guess after admitting we broke into your room, it was a little too late to play up the 'historical collectors who planned to turn the diamond in to a museum' card," Scarlet sighed.

"Here is what I propose," Snatcher stated. "We shall move to a more conducive venue for conversation. We shall bring the gems. Each faction should hold on to two of the stones. We shall lay our cards on the table, and you shall lay yours. Perhaps we can come to an agreement after all. If nothing else, your dedication to this theft is truly admirable."

"And your work was impressive," Scarlet admitted. "Really, there's no way you could have just fallen on the sapphire and the ruby by accident. You had to know what you were doing."

Rémington, Roman, and Grany all made a point of looking anywhere but at Scarlet.

"Mademoiselle Neopolitan," Snatcher ordered, "will you please lower your blade?"

Neo used her free hand to tap the gun.

"Put down the knife," Scarlet growled, "and I put down the gun."

"You will both lower your weapons on my count," Snatcher demanded. "Failure to comply, Mademoiselle Neopolitan, will result in consequences. As for Mademoiselle Overkill, failure to comply will result in a quick and gruesome death. Not for you, mind you. For your adorable husband." He let that sink in. "On three. One…two…"

Scarlet turned the gun toward the floor. Neo let the knife dangle at her side.

"Much better," Snatcher said with a grin. "Shall we move this discussion into town, perhaps?"

"It's two in the morning," Rémington reminded him. "Nothing's going to be open."

"I know a 24-hour bar," Herb suggested. "Scarlet and I found it our first week here."

"Sounds like our kind of place!" Roman said agreeably.

"The shuttle does run through the night," Scarlet added. "This does sound like the best idea. No weapons. Two gems each. You all have one night to convince me that I should either turn mine over to you or work with you."

"All things considered, you wouldn't be the weirdest people we brought home if that ends up happening," Roman commented. "Still can't decide if that honor goes to Iceman or Mister Twister."

"You wanna bring us home?" Herb asked. "Like, to your crime syndicate or something? Because Scarlet and I really don't have a – "

"Let's not put that card face-up just yet," Scarlet said hastily.

"As for you," Snatcher said, "you have one night to convince us why we should turn our jewels over to you or invest our time in your talents."

"Sounds fair," Scarlet said with a nod. "Maybe the eight of us can work something out after all."

"Eight?" Snatcher repeated. "My dear Madame Overkill, there are five of us and two of you. That equals a definite seven."

"You didn't figure it out yet?" Scarlet said in surprise. "How I knew you. How I knew where the medallions would be. How I planted the emerald on you."

It clicked for Snatcher; "No!"

"Oh, yes," a new voice chimed in from the doorway.

All backed up to see Lisa Ostrum framed there. "Thanks for leading me to the diamond," she said with a grin.

"Our friendship!" Snatcher gasped. "It was all a ruse to plant the emerald medallion on me and find out where we were keeping the other two! You horrid, horrid woman!" He grinned. "I've no choice but to respect you."

"Like you weren't faking it on your end," Lisa said cheerily. "Scarlet was my real friend. She and I were in cahoots from the beginning. I knew what she was after the moment she showed up, and she figured out what I wanted right away."

"Hey, wait!" Roman realized. "I know you! I opened up your locker! You're the woman with all the fake IDs!"

"Guilty as charged," Lisa confessed. "A girl's gotta have a fallback identity, you know?"

"Oh, I know the concept well," Snatcher said with a smirk.

"So how'd you guys figure it all out?" Lisa asked. "Did you get the journal off Scarlet somehow? Did you talk to Hotchkiss?"

"Journal?" Grany repeated.

"You know," Lisa clarified. "The journal that Scarlet and Herb found up here. Marie Antoinette's journal. The one that told the entire story about her crown of shame. You never read the journal? Well, you at least had to have found some kind of record from Ezra Wickford talking about where he hid the ruby, right?"

This was met with blank stares.

"Do you even know anything ABOUT this place?" Lisa said in disbelief. "Never mind. Can I at least see the diamond for a second? I wanna know what it's like to just…you know. Hold it."

"You can hold onto it for our faction," Scarlet told Lisa as she forked over the diamond. "We'll also take the emerald, since that was ours beforehand." She stepped back to look at Snatcher. "You can take the ruby and the sapphire."

"Not ideal," Snatcher told her, "yet it is fair."

"What's all this about holding onto the jewels?" Lisa asked, taking a step backward.

"We might be putting together an alliance," Herb said as he took his position in front of Lisa. "My idea."

"We're all going down into town to talk it over with a few drinks," Roman added as he stepped in next to Herb. "If all goes well, we might just team up. You seem like our type, Woman of a Thousand Faces. You'll fit right in."

"Fit in?" Lisa repeated. "With YOU?" Another step back.

"I know, it's a little bit of a surprise," Herb stated, "but we're all cut from the same cloth. Thieves and all. And there should be loyalty between fellow thieves, don't you think?"

"A concept I've lived by," Rémington affirmed. "When it suits me."

"And, hey, you're already friends with Scarlet and me," Herb went on, "so this could be a good move for all of us. Sort of like a criminal supergroup."

"Now, hang on," Lisa protested, reading for her back pocket with the hand not clutching the diamond. "I said Scarlet was MY friend for real. I never said I was HERS."

"Wait, wha – "

Lisa retrieved a can of mace from her back pocket, spraying it quickly over Herb and Roman's faces, causing both to cry out "MY EYES!" in synchrony.

"Thanks again for digging up the diamond for me!" Lisa crowed, bolting out the door. "See you NEVER!"

"NOW YOU WAIT!" Snatcher charged after her immediately. No one blinded Roman Torchwick on his watch, even temporarily, and got away with it. Scarlet followed in hot pursuit; no one blinded Herb Overkill on her watch, even temporarily, and got away with it.

Partway down the stone stairs, Snatcher was able to reach over Lisa's shoulder and seize the diamond in his hands. "You will relinquish this IMMEDIATELY!" he shrieked.

Lisa spun, stepping two stairs down, tugging the diamond hard; Snatcher pulled on it with equal force, surprised at Lisa's strength. "In your dreams!" Lisa cackled. "You really only have yourselves to blame for this for being so GULLIBLE!"

Scarlet took careful note of the position of Snatcher and Lisa's feet. It couldn't have been more perfect. Scarlet knew of the exact stair that marked the divide she wanted, and it was in between the two. With a confident smile, she pressed a stone panel on the wall.

The segment of stairs that had been missing when Snatcher and company made their ascent retracted into the wall, right out from beneath Lisa's feet. With a scream, Lisa tumbled into the circular chamber below, losing her grip on the gem. Snatcher backed up even further to safety as Lisa plummeted.

"How did you know about that?" Snatcher asked.

"How do you think we removed the stairs so YOU couldn't follow us?" Scarlet countered.

Rémington, Grany, and Neo all spilled out onto the stairs to look at the damage. Lisa Ostrum lay on the stone floor below, sprawled out and unmoving. "I think she's dead," Grany observed.

Neo made a motion affirming that Lisa's neck had probably snapped on impact.

"She was supposed to be my friend!" Scarlet grumped. "Well, that's just what you get when you mace my husband and pretend to like me!"

"She shan't be missed," Snatcher agreed. He held the diamond out to Scarlet; "I believe, as per our agreement, this belongs to you."

Scarlet swiped the diamond, holding it close. "Nobody else gets to touch this."

Back in the tower room, Scarlet had to gently take Herb's wrists into her hands to stop him from rubbing his eyes; "Sweetie? That'll just make it worse. Just hang on and we'll get you somewhere you can wash that out."

"I can't see a thing," Roman grumbled. "Apparently Aura doesn't cover being maced in the eye? That's a thing."

Snatcher took Roman's arm gently. "Stay close to me," he said softly, "and I shall lead you until you regain your sight."

"And I'll lead you," Scarlet told Herb.

Rémington and Grany mimed gagging; Neo elbowed both of them to get them to stop. She moved to the remains of the pillar in the floor, giving it a press so that it retracted back below the checkered tile. The circle with the medallions and key inset reappeared; Neo pried up the emerald medallion and handed it over to Scarlet. She then picked up the ruby medallion, gestured to it, and made a gagging motion of her own.

"Why?" Rémington asked. "That's a valuable jewel!"

Neo jabbed her finger at Roman.

"I think she wants us to tell you that she's making faces at the red one," Grany stated.

"Yeah, I'm sick of Rubies too," Roman picked up immediately. "Not a big fan of Emeralds either, come to think of it. But treasure is treasure."

As Neo pulled up the sapphire, she gave Snatcher a questioning look.

"To our rooms," Snatcher informed her, "to return our weapons to their proper places and let Torchwick and Monsieur Overkill wash that horrible venom out of their eyes. Then to the bar to begin negotiations."

"Well, we just committed a murder together," Scarlet pointed out. "That seems like we're getting off on the right foot."

"Hopefully so," Snatcher told her, not sure whether to adopt an optimistic or pessimistic attitude toward his new fire-forged potential allies.

...

In the late afternoon before when Azula had indicated the invasion was to strike, Sora, Ruby, Papyrus, Stork, Jasmine, Aang, Katara, and Zuko took up a post inside one of the frontmost sentry towers of the Fire Nation capital, sharing the cramped chamber with a small host of guards.

"I wish Appa were here," Aang sighed. "Then we could get a better view from his back. Also, his company would be good right now."

"You should be glad your bison isn't here," Zuko replied. "The entire aerial fleet is out. Appa could get hurt."

"You really think they're going to attack from above?" Katara wondered out loud.

"We don't know where they're going to attack from," Zuko reminded her. "It's best to have all our bases covered."

"That's why I'm planning on heading where I'm going when they get here," Stork chimed in. "I'm not taking any chances."

"Let's go over the plan again," Ruby suggested. "So when they invade, do we split up and try and battle the invaders, or do we head for the palace?"

"Hopefully, we can stop them at the gate," Zuko told her. "I'll be headed for the palace myself. The rest of you can decide what you want to do based on the state we're in."

Sora watched a line of tanks roll out into position in front of the gates to the city. "I have a hard time imagining what can get past that," he remarked.

"Maybe we'll move to the palace if we're overwhelmed?" Ruby kept on musing.

"WE WON'T BE OVERWHELMED!" Papyrus boasted. "WE CAN TAKE DOWN ANYTHING THAT COMES OUR WAY! BESIDES, THEY MIGHT NOT EVEN SHOW UP AT ALL!"

"I'm feeling pretty confident, myself," Jasmine added.

A meager meal was passed around as the sun set. "Still nothing," Sora noted.

"They're waiting for the cover of darkness," Zuko stated coldly.

"I was afraid of that," Stork commented.

The last rays of light faded beyond the horizon. "You know," Sora remarked, "I have a friend back at our headquarters who will tell anyone who will listen why the sun sets red. It's something to do with how far light travels."

"Hang on." Zuko leaned out over the edge of the tower's window, peering into the shadows of the horizon. "I think I see something."

"Like what?" Katara asked worriedly.

The entire group moved around Zuko to get a look. Small pinpricks of light – tiny yellow eyes – amassed over something black and squirming.

"Heartless," Sora realized.

"What are Heartless?" Katara asked.

"Something I saw in my past lives," Aang explained. "I haven't seen them in a really long time. Not since Kyoshi. But they're people's hearts held captive by Darkness. Some of them, anyway. Others are just made of Darkness. Their entire existence is about destroying as much as they can. They're not really alive. There's something…wrong about the way they exist. Destroying a Heartless means freeing the captive heart inside, so I've actually thought about this after going over those memories, and they're the only creature I'd ever actually…destroy."

"Then they must be something serious," Katara said in awe.

"But those are just Shadows!" Sora observed.

"There are a loooooot of Shadows headed this way," Ruby noted. The tanks were beginning to respond, aiming their cannons to fire on the wave of Darkness.

"Yeah, but they're just Shadows," Sora reiterated. "We can take 'em down easy. This guy can send as many as he wants."

That was when the much bigger shapes began to fill the horizon.

"Uhhhh…" Ruby grabbed Sora's shoulder and shook it. "UUUUUHHHH…THOSE AREN'T SHADOWS."

"Is this as bad as I think it is?" Stork asked, his voice cracking.

Sora stepped back in horror. "Oh boy," he squeaked. "Not good! NOT GOOD!"

Darksides. Grim Reapers. Bolt Towers. Stealth Sneaks. Prison Keepers. And in between, the smaller varieties: Air Soldiers, Zip Slashers, Bully Dogs. Every Heartless Sora could recall having faced and then some was identifiable among the incoming wave, including a flock of aerial types. At their head was a lumbering Behemoth with eight figures riding on its back.

"Maybe the tanks will stop them?" Katara said in a trembling tone.

"MAYBE THE TANKS WILL STOP THEM?" Stork shrieked. "ARE YOU LOOKING AT WHAT I'M LOOKING AT?"

Down below, Facilier stood tall atop the head of the Behemoth, cane pressed down with both hands so it rested on the Behemoth's forhead, just behind its horn. Directly behind him, Ozai and Zhao stood tall on the shoulders; Vexen, Mim, Wuya, the Huntsman, and Xayide filled in on the creature's back, looking less than pleased. He watched as the tanks' cannons aimed at the army he had conjured from the Darkness, fueled by the power of the Solstice night; the centermost four tanks concentrated on the Behemoth. "FRIENDS!" Facilier barked, raising a hand to point at the tanks. "ALLEZ!"

A squadron of Grim Reapers surged forward, having at the tanks with their pendulums. The metal was ripped apart. The front line managed to get a few shots in; some of the invading creatures were struck down, but it hardly made a dent in the oncoming force. The Behemoth staggered from a wound, going down on its knees before collapsing and fading to Darkness. Facilier, Zhao, Ozai, Mim, the Huntsman, Xayide, Wuya, and Vexen were now ground-bound, but their Heartless assist force was clearing a path for them through the security surrounding the gates.

"Now just do what y'all did when we sprang Ozai from his cage," Facilier commanded.

"Once again," Wuya observed, "despite the circumstances, this could actually be some fun."

A squadron of firebenders rushed to meet them on foot. Wuya, Mim, Xayide, Vexen, and the Huntsman charged in kind, easily disposing of their attackers.

"Everyone, GO!" Zuko yelled. "GO NOW!"

Ruby hoisted up Crescent Rose. Jasmine took into hand a spear she had been granted by the Fire Nation army. Sora's Keyblade glittered into existence.

As the small group of heroes departed the tower, they were greeted by the sight of the Heartless already beginning to overrun the city. "I'm going to go try and cut down as many as I can!" Ruby yelled as she extended Crescent Rose to full length. "If there are too many, I'll head for the palace! GO GET 'EM!"
She swung away, dispatching three Soldiers as she charged down the street.

"Good idea!" Sora decided. "Let's split up and bring 'em down!"

The group dispersed, but not before Sora and Stork turned to look back at each other. Sora knew what Stork was planning, and flashed him a thumbs-up. Stork returned the gesture with a firm nod. Then he and Sora rushed in opposite directions.

Jasmine could already see the Fire Nation armored soldiers engaging in battle with the Heartless in the streets. Most times, it appeared the Fire Nation troops had the upper hand. However, when Jasmine arrived in an open square, she found many soldiers felled – hopefully just knocked out, she thought to herself, though she knew better.

In the center of the square, a Behemoth lumbered, raising its horn to the sky and bringing down surges of electricity to strike the buildings that lined the streets. Identifying it as the cause of the destruction in the area, Jasmine resolved to bring the Behemoth down. She gripped her spear tightly, standing tall as she faced the beast.

The Heartless took notice of this last woman standing in its path and cast its electric bolts in her direction. She leapt and dodged every strike in succession, making a run directly at the creature. It lowered its head to charge its horn with even more energy. Before it could let loose, Jasmine reached it, striking at the horn with her weapon.

The Behemoth shook its head violently from side to side, knocking Jasmine across the street until she smacked into the façade of a building. Her quick reflexes kicked in, saving her from the loosed blast of energy just before it ripped apart the stone of the structure she had been pressed against.

It had become frantic when she had gone for the horn, Jasmine realized. A plan took shape in her mind. She quickly darted down the narrow gap between two buildings, getting one street over, out of sight of the Behemoth but running ahead of it at top speed. Once there was considerable distance between herself and the Behemoth, she use her spear to chop down a back door, barging into the building.

She came upon a family of three, a mother and two children huddling and quivering in the corner. "You need to go!" Jasmine commanded, pointing toward the door she'd used to enter. "There aren't as many of them in that direction. If you stay here, that thing outside will destroy you!"

As the woman took her children's hands and made a dash, Jasmine hoped to God that she'd sent them to safety and not to death. She continued her upward path, getting to the second floor. Just as she arrived at a window that provided an adequate angle, the Behemoth's head passed by.

Jasmine half crawled, half leapt from the window, landing on the Behemoth's head. The creature went wild, swinging its head about. Jasmine wobbled, but held her balance long enough to raise the spear high above the Heartless' horn and then drive it down into the creature's head, just at the horn's base.

The Behemoth's movements halted. It crumpled, legs giving way, and its body hit the ground hard enough to shake. Jasmine leapt to the ground, bending her knees to absorb the shock. As she turned, she saw the Behemoth's body fade, a heart spinning upward out of it and into the night sky among the clash of the Fire Nation dirigibles and the flock of Wyverns and Air Pirates.

The sound of thundering feet alerted her to the fact that more were coming. She braced her spear.

Katara uncorked a large jug that she kept strapped to her side, bringing out a swath of water that she kept levitated. Shadows leapt at her from all sides; she swiped the water left and right, cutting them back. For every one she knocked down with her water, ten more seemed to appear in its place.

When they backed off, Katara knew it was no time to let her guard down. They were planning something; they were mobilizing. They banded together into a cloud that rose up above the streets: a mass of wriggling Shadows that acted as a single Demon Tide. The Tide charged Katara head-on.

She was ready with her water, sidestepping and slashing out with the water, which was shaped in such a way that it formed a sharp edge when it moved quickly across the Tide. Several Shadows came loose and fell to the ground, dissipating into nothingness. The Tide turned and came back for another round; Katara sidestepped once more, slicing again. The Tide crashed into the street before Katara, re-emerging from the ground behind her; she quickly ran, slinging water behind her as fast as she could to thin the numbers of the Shadows in the Tide.

They backed off again, and Katara wondered if she really had beaten them this time. When they forged a cyclone shape, a streak of hot orange running through the mass, Katara knew the exact opposite was happening. She quickly formed a ring of running water around herself. The cyclone tried to collide with her from several angles, only to be repelled by the force of the water.

It wasn't going to be enough, Katara knew. Her eyes slid to a sewer grate set in the street. It would be filthy, but it would serve its purpose.

The Tide had a new tactic: shooting bombs made of packed-together Shadows into the air. Katara was able to outrun the first few, but then there were altogether too many masses of Shadows falling from the sky. It took all of Katara's resolve not to panic. She stood over the grate, calling up all the water she could from it.

The water rose up around her in a dome, freezing into solid ice. There were several loud THUDs as the Shadow-bombs collided with Katara's protective shield. Through the blurred vision offered by the ice, she became aware of the cyclone growing closer, spitting out more bombs. She waited, hoping it would come just a little closer, just a little closer –

It was right on top of her, spitting out bombs like rainwater from a cloud.

The ice dome exploded at Katara's will, becoming a shockwave of razor-sharp shards of ice that pierced through nearly every single Shadow. The Demon Tide fell apart, losing its orange glow as its host scattered and scurried.

Katara's breathing was heavy. "That better be the last one of those," she huffed to herself.

But as her gaze traveled upward, it met with an even greater wave of Shadows spilling over the rooftops of the nearest homes.

Civilians ran in terror from a great Guard Armor that clanked down the street, its heavy boots kicking out at anyone it got close to. As the people bolted, they became aware of one figure that, instead of making a mad dash away from the Heartless, was striding confidently toward it.

"RUN!" someone yelled. "YOU'LL GET KILLED!"

"I AM NOT AFRAID!" Papyrus responded. "NOR SHOULD YOU BE! FOR I, THE GREAT PAPYRUS, AM HERE TO FACE THIS EVIL!"

The Guard Armor halted when it realized that one target was coming toward it instead of moving away.

"I HOPE YOU ARE PREPARED FOR A HARROWING BATTLE!" Papyrus yelled as he pointed dramatically at the Guard Armor.

The Armor responded with a sharp kick; Papyrus ducked and rolled. "IS THAT ALL YOU'VE GOT?" he taunted as he stood to full height. A host of bright blue bones sprang up around him, circling him in ever faster speeds.

The Armor retaliated, its gauntlets spinning about it in the same fashion, sharp nails outstretched. Papyrus leapt back in fear as they passed just a little too close to him for comfort. He threw the blue bones into the fray, mingling them with the gauntlets' path.

The Armor moved at such a high speed that the bones interrupting the gauntlets acted like a spanner in the works of quickly grinding gears. The Armor wobbled as the gauntlets slowed, striking every bone, until one of the gauntlets took too much pressure and simply exploded.

The other gauntlet swiped close to Papyrus, who ducked and covered his head with his hands, letting the metallic nails pass over him three times. He rolled out of the way once he realized the boots were gaining in proximity. Standing again, he forged the words "COOLEST DUDE EVER" out of bone, sending them to strike the boots. They tangled with the Armor's feet; one of the boots, the opposite from the missing gauntlet, burst.

The Armor shuddered all over. Its head, gauntlet, and boot flew far from its body. The central body turned itself upside-down; the boot reattached itself as a hand and the gauntlet as a foot. As the helmet settled back down, its jaw clanked open, revealing the Heartless' bright eyes.

"APPARENTLY THAT WAS NOT ALL YOU'VE GOT," Papyrus squeaked.

The Opposite Armor folded up, the wider end of its body pointed at Papyrus with the limbs and helmet flanking. A surge of magical energy balled up at the end of the body before shooting directly at Papyrus. Papyrus leapt, collapsing hard against the ground as the street behind him exploded into shrapnel. He pried his head up to see another blast charging up. As it loosed, Papyrus bolted as fast as he could away from the Armor, down the street as all the others had.

"NO!" he suddenly realized as the blast struck some feet behind him. "WHAT AM I DOING? I SHOULD NOT BE RUNNING! I CAME TO DEFEAT THIS HEARTLESS AND PROTECT PEOPLE FROM IT! I CAN'T JUST LET IT KEEP ON HURTING PEOPLE!" He stamped on the ground decisively. "THAT DOES IT! NO MORE RUNNING!" He spun on a heel to face his foe.

The Armor readied another enormous blast of magical energy.

Papyrus conjured a veritable forest of bones that sprouted up between himself and the Armor.

The Armor let its explosive fly, which turned out to be a mistake. The bones glowed bright blue. The magic plowed into them, was repelled by Papyrus' own brand of magic, and bounced right back at its origin. When it hit, the Opposite Armor was completely obliterated.

"I HOPE YOU HAVE LEARNED YOUR LESSON!" Papyrus taunted the empty air as the bones retreated into the ground.

The sound of distant clanking from behind let Papyrus know that even if this particular Armor had learned any sort of lesson at all, the others in the vicinity hadn't learned from example.

The dirigibles were in the midst of a hard fight. The Air Soldiers, Air Pirates, and Wyverns thronged, tearing at the mechanisms of the flying machines. And that was bad enough. But when the largest one of all materialized over the city, it threw the pilots into a panic. The creature resembled a skeletal dragon with wings that looked as though someone had welded four blades together on each side; it carried a treasure chest in its mouth, and three skulls waggled on the end of its tail. This tail whipped around, emitting blue projectiles that the dirigibles just weren't fast enough to escape. More than one plummeted at the mercy of the Ruler of the Sky.

As Stork looked out over the dashboard of the gummi ship that had taken him and his team to this world in the first place, he glared at the Ruler. "Don't get too comfortable," he muttered as he threw the ship into gear, aiming the cannons.

The Ruler knew it was being chased, and so turned and sailed away lazily, making a great loop around the city. Its tail blasted off blue sphere after blue sphere. Stork expertly steered the ship up, down, around, between two dirigibles, staying out of the way of all obstacles while keeping the Ruler in his sights. He opened fire on it with everything the ship had.

One of the skulls on the end of the Ruler's tail fractured and broke away. The Ruler spread its wings wide to halt in the midst of the sky, turning an about face and charging up an impressively large burst of magic between its wing-blades around front.

Stork squeaked as he turned the ship hard to avoid the massive explosion. The ship sailed around the Ruler, coming at it from the back.

The Ruler took off at a higher speed than its casual glide, shooting projectiles from its tail as it careened over the city. Stork had to throw the ship off course altogether, flying away from the Ruler as it turned around and charged back the direction it had come while letting more projectiles loose.

Stork waited for it to come back around a third time before calculating where its trajectory would take it and turning the cannons on that spot. Under the pressure of Stork's next barrage, the Ruler's second tail-skull crumbled. The Ruler retaliated immediately, pulling up next to the ship.

"Oh, no!" Stork screamed as he frantically pulled at the steering mechanism. "NO, NO, NO – "

BOOM.

The ship began to plummet toward the city below.

"Come on," Stork begged as he hauled the steering mechanism upward. "I KNOW we don't have the same relationship as me and the Condor, but I need you to work for me! DON'T LET ME DOWN, BABY!"

Moments before it would have careened into the rooftops below, the ship made a sharp turn upward.

"YES!" Stork cried. "I KNEW YOU COULD DO IT! Now let's finish off that Heartless." His smirk was practically malicious.

The Ruler had turned to using its larger attack on each of the floating dirigibles. Stork tried not to focus on the collapse of the vehicles around him and what that meant both for the pilots within and the people below. Instead, he kept his vision focused on the Ruler, waiting for it to land and charge up, waiting for its back to be turned.

It chose another dirigible, glowing brightly as its wings fanned out behind, making an open spot.

Stork's next shots hit the Ruler square in the back, between the wings, rather than on the tail. The charge of energy died against the Ruler's abdomen. It fell from the sky, wings flapping gracefully as it rocketed downward until it dissolved in the midst of the air, a heart rising from where it had fallen.

"TAAAAAKE THAT!" Stork whooped. "THAT ONE WAS FROM THE STORM HAWKS!" He took only a moment to feel satisfied with himself before glancing to the bottom of the dashboard and viewing the ground: "Now, if things were going a bit better on the ground…"

And directly below him, a Dustflier had landed. Shaped like a dragon and colored an earthy brown, it spat a host of fireballs into the air; they rained down upon the nearby homes, torching the rooftops.

"HEY!" Aang yelled to get the Dustflier's attention.

The great Heartless fixed its gaze upon Aang.

"LEAVE THIS CITY ALONE!" Aang yelled.

The Dustflier responded by opening its maw and letting loose a barrage of fireballs directly at Aang.

Aang sidestepped the first blast, but intentionally put himself in the way of the end of it, catching the fire in midair and holding onto it as he took a spin. He finished off by leaping and kicking out toward the Dustflier, sending the fireball into the Heartless' face.

The Dustflier was not perturbed. It leapt into the air, spreading its wings to do a backflip before landing on the ground hard enough to generate a magical shockwave that spread out from beneath it.

Caught off guard, Aang was flung against the nearest wall. There wasn't a spot on him that wasn't sore from that blow. He tottered back toward the Dustflier as it rose up for another flip.

Aang was determined not to let the Dustflier get away with this. He summoned a small cyclone of air to push himself upward, leaping to meet the Dustflier's exposed chest as it arced backward. Aang thrust out an arm, sweeping a swath of flame over the Dustflier's abdomen. But the Dustflier didn't even react, landing hard on the ground again and creating yet another shockwave. Aang boosted himself up on another small cyclone, only landing once the wave had passed.

"It's immune to fire," he realized.

When he touched ground, he stomped hard; the earth beneath the Dustflier fractured, flying up at the Heartless' belly in fragments. The Dustflier gave a great leap to land some distance away, hoping to hit Aang with another shockwave, but Aang was ready, riding a brief air current to jump high and long enough to not be affected. When his feet touched ground, more of the road beneath the Dustflier slammed up into the creature. They repeated the cycle, and Aang knew he had to act fast; when the Dustflier connected with the ground, Aang sent spears of stone upward. The Dustflier gave a sharp bark as it dissipated, its heart climbing into the heights of the sky.

The shockwave hurtled toward Aang, who had no time to dodge. He was thrown, rolling and skidding over the street, collecting bloody scrapes and bruises. But he was alive, and as he struggled into a standing position, that was what he focused on.

As he looked around, he beheld the sight of the burning city before him. Dread began to grow within him; even though he had won the battle against the Dustflier, was the war already lost?

But there was no time to think about that, as a Tailbunker, a Windstorm, and an Avalanche were winging their way down to take the Dustflier's place.

One of the town squares had been taken up by an enormous Leechgrave: a Heartless that propped itself up on thorny vines as limbs, a pink blossom at the top and a chained coffin dangling from down below. Dark tendrils sprouted up from the network of roots it was putting underground, chasing down civilians with their claw-like appendages.

Ruby arrived in the square just in time to see someone be completely swallowed by one of the tendrils, a huge person-sized lump moving rapidly down the vine until the person was lost belowground.

The sight of someone becoming completely devoured by the Leechgrave flipped a switch in Ruby. Her confidence was shaken by a heavy dose of horror; she stared in shock as more of the tendrils sprouted, turning in her general direction. But this horror solidified and forged into something more tangible: anger, and the drive to utilize it.

With a scream of "EEEEEYAAAAAAAGH!", Ruby burst forward, slicing through the tentacle-claws ("tentaclaws" in her mind, and the name was not inaccurate) with Crescent Rose and leaving the severed remains in her wake. She arrived directly beneath the blossom, twirling her scythe at the coffin and striking it over and over again, leaving dents and breaking one of the chains.

A sudden burst of purple energy spheres surprised her, but she easily darted out of its way, her speed working to her advantage. Crescent Rose whirled; the next chain on the coffin was severed.

Ruby's occupation with the coffin distracted her to the appearance of another tentaclaw behind her. She only noticed it when it latched onto her head, gobbling her up whole.

She held tight to Crescent Rose as she was pulled through an impossibly tight space, with no room to swing her weapon. The terror that this might be her end surged through her. She squirmed violently, taken on a ride directly down and then back up. Before she knew it, she was spit out the top of the blossom, thrown high into the air above the Leechgrave.

There was no time to wonder what had just happened. Ruby spun in midair, converting Crescent Rose to a rifle as quickly as she could and aiming it downward. Her ammunition hit directly in the center of the blossom over and over again; she saw the Leechgrave shudder. Her feet touched down atop the blossom's folded petals.

The blossom spat a cloud of purple smog; Ruby coughed, fearing what toxins she might be inhaling. The world swam about her; she focused only on Crescent Rose, shifting its components to unfurl the scythe blade once more. Making a leap down, she plunged the tip of the scythe into the side of the blossom, tearing it as she slid down. She dropped to the street as the Leechgrave collapsed.

Ruby held Crescent Rose high over the coffin that lay before her. With one last decisive scream, she brought the scythe down hard on the box and sundered it. The Leechgrave's vines folded in on themselves; the blossom exploded into a cloud of violet smog. A heart spun up into the sky from the coffin's center.

Focus was coming back to Ruby, the world less blurred around her as she breathed cleaner air. And with that focus came a view of three Assault Riders: centaur-like Heartless with spears held high.

"Bring it on," Ruby muttered as she drew Crescent Rose back.

Sora cut down Heartless after Heartless, slightly flummoxed by some of them. The Ferocious Fins had gone down without much of a fight, but Sora did not understand why a Large Body had dressed up in a shark costume in order to come to the party. He battled his way into another open square, which was empty – suspiciously so.

The shimmer of transparent walls went up, fencing him into the square. The ground rumbled before the massive Heartless burst up out of the ground, spraying stone everywhere; Sora batted the debris away with the Keyblade to prevent injury. The beast spun, its six arms and curved blades whirling before it came to a stop, standing tall, a shimmering multicolored aura washing over it.

"Oh, no," Sora moaned as he beheld Kurt Zisa's snapping jaws and undulating limbs. "Not this guy!"

Kurt Zisa advanced, blades cutting through the air. Sora quickly parried, striking at each blade over and over to block it from reaching him. Doubt trickled into him; he had defeated one of these before, but only with Donald and Goofy at his side. How would he fare alone?

He dropped, rolled, attempted to cast a Fire spell at Zisa. When no flames appeared, Sora remembered how the Zisa he had fought had silenced his magic in the past. Two of the arms not clutching blades were holding orbs of pure Darkness. Yes, Sora thought, it was coming back to him. He sent the Keyblade spinning toward one of these orbs, beating the hand that held it over and over as he caught the Keyblade on the rebound and threw it once more. The first orb burst apart, but Sora was forced to quickly abandon his position as one of the blades slammed down on where he had stood.

He rushed around the perimeter of the square, careful not to fall into the pit from whence Zisa had burst; it looked pretty deep. Another round of Strike Raiding took care of Zisa's second orb; Sora then moved again to avoid another blow. Now with magic at his disposal, he cast Fire, Thunder, Fire, Thunder, Blizzard, as much as he could rapidly.

A glimmering iridescent shield formed over Zisa, blocking out most of the attacks. By the time Sora remembered what came next, it was too late. The square had filled up with orbs of fire, which were rapidly exploding; while Sora was able to evade two, the blasts from the others near him forced him off balance, causing him to fall into the pit.

He cast a quick Aero to cushion his fall, then landed at the pit's bottom, some twenty feet below. Zisa rose and formed a wheel with its body, beginning to spin into the pit like a miter saw blade.

Sora panicked. What could he do? Not give up, he knew. His friends were counting on him, and he knew that elsewhere in the city, they were fighting their hardest. Keeping Ruby, Papyrus, Jasmine, Stork, Katara, Zuko, and Aang in mind, Sora braced himself for a risky move.

Zisa plowed into the earth below. As he spun toward Sora, Sora leapt, grabbing onto Zisa by the neck. In this manner, Sora rode Zisa up out of the pit.

Zisa spun frantically, colliding with the barrier around the square like a pinball with the edges of its machine as it tried to dislodge Sora. Sora kept ahold of Zisa with one hand, chopping at the bases of Zisa's limbs with the Keyblade with the other. This strategy took some time, and as Sora's arm tired, he nearly dropped off several times. He knew, however, that to let go would be to invite death. As time wore on, Sora carved away each of Zisa's limbs, dizzying himself thoroughly in the process.

Zisa dropped to the ground on the edge of the pit; Sora finally fell off, nearly collapsing. But no, he reminded himself, he had to finish this fight. He had to survive it for his friends: not only those on the battlefield, but those who hadn't come with him on this mission: Riku, Kairi, Jaune, the rest. Though the world was spinning round and round and his limbs shook, he forced his feet forward.

Zisa's cobra-shaped head lay stretched out on its chest, jaws snapping weakly. Sora jumped, performed a spin, and decapitated Zisa in one motion. As Sora's feet hit the ground, he was too woozy to notice Zisa's captive heart fly away. He only wanted the invisible barrier to come down, and as soon as it did, he barged through it, back into the streets. He had to keep fighting. He had to. No matter how badly his body begged to lay down and give up.

The area in front of the palace was relatively undisturbed. Zuko had to cut down a Neo-Shadow here and there, but so far, nothing big had reached the heart of the city. That was because, as Zuko soon found out, the biggest thing of all was making its way. An enormous Heartless, shaped like a cross between a dragon and cattle, stomped down the thoroughfare, a second body that was vaguely humanoid sitting tall atop its back. Had Zuko known its name, he would have thought it appropriate that this beast was called "Groundshaker." The Groundshaker whipped its head from side to side, crashing it into walls with bursts of flame leaking from around its eyes.

It was yet distant, but Zuko knew if he didn't stop it well before it reached the palace, he knew he would have rubble on his hands. He bolted down the thoroughfare, both hands blazing with fire, ready to meet it head-on.

As the Groundshaker's head swept across the street, Zuko leapt, springing off the nose and forehead to get on its back. There was a street's worth of ground, a grassy lawn peppered with trees, on the back of the beast: a testament to its size. The humanoid body that sat atop the larger one charged up a burst of electricity once it saw Zuko; Zuko sidestepped so it barely missed him.

"Lightning," he muttered. The Heartless had just chosen to play the wrong game. Zuko put all of his focus into his next move. It had to count.

The Groundshaker's smaller body zapped another burst of lightning at Zuko; Zuko caught it with one hand, letting it course through his body before he redirected it right back at the smaller body. The blast hit home, and the smaller body vanished. Zuko thought at first he had vanquished it, but then he saw its faint outline, transparent, charging him from the side of the bigger body's back –

It collided, and Zuko nearly tumbled right off the Groundshaker. Skidding to a halt just before he would have slid over the edge, Zuko danced around the small grassy outcrop, avoiding strike after strike from the smaller body. All the while, the Groundshaker grew closer to the palace. If a decisive move wasn't made, it would trample the palace into debris.

The smaller body shifted back into view, charging up more lightning. This time, when Zuko caught it, he redirected it at the head of the larger body.

That proved to be the Groundshaker's undoing. It let out a great cry, crumpling to the ground. Zuko ran down over its head and leapt onto the street just before it dissolved, tossing the smaller body to explode into no more than a floating heart mid-dive. Now back at the palace gates, Zuko stopped to catch his breath, bending over and resting his hands on his knees.

"Well, well. If it ain't the family disgrace."

Zuko's head snapped upward. Facilier stood directly before him, staring him down with a grin. Flanking him, however, were the faces that made Zuko's heart nearly stop: Zhao and Ozai.

Behind them, the WHAM ARMY captives were polishing off the last of the soldiers they'd encountered on the path. Vexen froze one into a block of ice, Wuya slammed an entire wall down on three soldiers, Xayide ran one through with a pike, the Huntsman decapitated one, and Mim bowled down two in the form of an Ursa. When the area was clear, they backed up their captors, looking all too happy about the destruction they had caused (save for Vexen, whose expression remained as though he had a sour taste in his mouth, and the Huntsman, who was, as usual, unreadable).

"Zuko," Ozai greeted, his voice slick. "What do you think you are doing?"

"Defending the capital from you," Zuko answered, trying not to give away the way his body was quaking, his heart was racing, his mind was exploding with panic. "Just like I've had to defend the rest of the world from you."

"Stand down," Ozai commanded, "and you may just live."

"No," Zuko said firmly, balling up his fists. "If I die trying to stop you from destroying this city, then I die with honor! These used to be your people! Why are you turning on them now?"

"Because in order to maintain the throne after all you have done to ruin my name," Ozai explained, "I must prove that I am a force to be feared."

"A force to be feared!" Zuko snapped. "You don't even have your bending! You let Zhao and these other people do all the work for you!" He glared back at the WHAM ARMY. "And if what I heard is right, most of them don't even support you."

"You're not wrong," Wuya retorted, "though you know more than you should."

"Do we really have to leave him alone if he stands down?" Mim asked as she reverted to human shape. "It would be such fun to rip him to shreds!"

"You won't have to worry about that." Zuko shifted a foot back into a defensive stance. "Because I am NEVER going to stand down. Not until your evil is OVER."

"Where did I fail with you?" Ozai wondered out loud.

"Stop chitchatting and just kill him already!" Zhao set both his hands afire. "I'll do it myself if I have to!"

There was a sudden chorus of cries of "ZUKO!"

Zuko looked to the left and saw Jasmine, Katara, and Papyrus racing toward him. From the right, Sora, Aang, and Ruby bolted in his direction. The six could already tell that Zuko was in trouble, and they huddled up around him, facing their foes with gazes set in stone.

"Who's this?" Sora asked.

"My father and his general," Zuko answered.

Sora shifted, stepping out in front of Zuko. "You won't get any closer to him!" he barked.

"If you wanna get Zuko," Ruby added as she fell in line next to Sora, "you're gonna have to go through us!"

"ALL of us," Jasmine insisted as she stepped in on Sora's other side.

Zuko was astonished as Papyrus, Aang, and Katara moved out in front of him as well. Aang and Katara, he could understand, but the others had known him for such a short time. To know they would defend him warmed his heart greatly, inspiring heat within him that he knew would translate to battle.

"Hey, you!" Aang suddenly pointed at Facilier. "You're the one keeping the others trapped in those rings so they'll work for you! You can't do that!"

"Says the child," Facilier mocked. "I'll do what I please, thank you very much. Ain't often I get to do that with no strings attached."

"You have to let them go!" Aang insisted.

"You realize you are asking me to free murderers!" Facilier taunted. "How dumb are ya, boy?"

"I don't care!" Aang barked. "They're as human as us, and they don't deserve to be your captives!"

"This is going nowhere fast," Facilier sighed. "Just get rid of 'em all."

"We seem to have been strangely on the same page for the past while we have been together," Vexen said with a grin.

Mim cackled as she transformed into a creature she had only heard about from tales told by Zhao, lurching forward in the body of a badgermole. The Huntsman, Wuya, and Zhao flew at the group while Vexen and Xayide stood back to provide long-range cover. Ozai and Facilier discreetly moved to the rear of the group.

Sora charged past the Huntsman, Wuya, and Facilier, swinging his Keyblade directly at Vexen. "I owe you one for what you did to Kairi!" he yelled.

"A familiar rivalry," Vexen said in mock wistfulness. "Had I a heart, I might be nostalgic for this moment." A wall of icy spikes rose up to Sora's left; Sora leapt to avoid getting impaled. "But you would remember none of our old spars, would you?" A wall to Sora's left; Sora jumped and closed the distance between himself and Vexen, his blade locking against Vexen's shield. "Naminé took care of that little loose end. Was it her meddling that did you in, or your own foolishness? You never will recall Castle Oblivion. And as such, you will never recall how you very nearly left all your friends behind to mourn you as you perished chasing a fantasy."

"Shut up!" Sora barked, blade clashing against Vexen's shield hard enough that Vexen was forced to pace backward. "You're just trying to freak me out! I'm not gonna fall for it!"

His feet slid out from underneath him; Vexen had created a frozen puddle over the ground Sora stood on. As Sora landed flat on his back, his body now begging him just to stay in that position, Vexen leaned over him. "I would say this is in the name of Mozenrath, or by command of Dr. Facilier," he announced, "but in truth, this is only what you had coming to you for making a fool of me all that time ago."

Sora desperately rolled away as a cluster of icy spikes sprang up from where he had lay. He struggled to his knees, then using the Keyblade as a crutch to hoist himself to his feet. "I'm not done yet!" he announced as he made another swing, trying to move around Vexen and strike him where the shield wouldn't cover. Vexen pivoted to match his blows, and they struck again and again, key against shield.

Sora was not the only one who was battle-weary. The others had all made their way to the palace because after their initial victories, the endless onslaught of Heartless had overwhelmed them. Katara had fought the greater tide of Shadows as long as she could before she was forced to retreat, muscles aching. Still, when Wuya rushed at the team, she retrieved the water from her flask, using it to cover both hands. Wuya lifted into the air, spinning round and round; when she descended, one leg extended elegantly to knock its unlucky victim back. Katara caught Wuya's foot in both hands, swinging the Heylin witch around and throwing her against the palace steps.

Wuya threw a burst of pure magic at Katara; Katara ducked beneath it, lashing out, making whips of water that slapped at Wuya. The water encircled Wuya's hands, freezing into ice. Wuya's magic was momentarily quelled; the witch looked at her hands in bewilderment before lighting her fingers up with hot magic that shattered the ice.

"You have power," she remarked. "You might just be on the wrong side. I could see a young Heylin apprentice made out of you."

Katara was momentarily brought back to a night in the woods, facing an old woman who had cultivated Katara's darker side. "You have no idea," Katara said coldly before leaping out of the way of another flame of magic.

As the Huntsman barreled toward his targets, Ruby charged right back at him. "YOU!" she cried as Crescent Rose locked with the huntstaff. "You're the one who tried to kill Asgore and Papyrus!"

"A fight I now have the chance to finish," the Huntsman growled as he looked over Ruby's shoulder at Papyrus.

The momentary diversion was a mistake; Ruby spun Crescent Rose backward, slamming its outer edge into the Huntsman's stomach and forcing him back. He geared up a bright blast of emerald energy at staff's end; Ruby darted this way and that, making for an impossible target to shoot. Before he could decide where to let loose, she had gotten behind him, now whacking him with Crescent Rose from behind. He stumbled forward before turning to slash at her with the huntstaff; the two weapons clashed again and again. Ruby only hoped the Huntsman didn't know what to make of the red Aura that washed over her, patching up her bumps and bruises from the Heartless that had forced her to retreat after the Leechgrave.

"Leave the skeleton to me," Xayide said calmly. "I shall make sure he is disposed of." At her behest, a rain of red drops of magic fell from the sky, zeroing in on Papyrus.

Papyrus caught each on the length of a blue bone, feeling the draw on the magic that composed his very being as he called further and further upon it. "THAT DOES IT!" he cried. "YOU'RE BLUE NOW!"

Xayide looked down, finding herself covered in a faint blue glow that seemed to serve absolutely no purpose. "Blue isn't my color," she said casually as she called an armada of bladed weapons into the air.

The blades shot directly for Papyrus, who was surrounded by a shield of swirling bones that deflected every single one. "YOU CALL THAT AN ATTACK?" he scoffed. "UNDYNE USES TWICE THAT MUCH DURING OUR SPARS!"

Xayide kept pummeling Papyrus, and he kept the shield twirling. One bone, however, flickered and disappeared: a sign that Papyrus' weariness was affecting his ability to keep the shield up. A single spear passed through the slot it left, barely grazing Papyrus, frightening him more than anything else. He immediately filled the slot, worried now that others would appear and leave him open.

Zhao rushed Zuko directly, only for Jasmine to plant herself directly between the two. "What do YOU bend?" Zhao taunted. "Fire? Water?"

"I don't need to bend," Jasmine told him as she held her spear outward like a quarterstaff.

"You're going to regret this," Zhao told her as he swung one fire-coated fist.

Jasmine ducked it, swinging the blunt end of the spear's staff at Zhao's stomach. It collided; he grunted. Zhao lifted one leg and planted it on Jasmine's back to force her down as he aimed both hands at her; she wrested herself from that hold, rolling away as the fire rained down. The spear was next swung at Zhao's legs to try and throw him off balance; he leapt over the shaft, loosing another fireball at Jasmine as he touched down. She rolled again, letting the fire impact the ground inches away. She then drove the spear point into the ground and used it to hoist herself up in a fluid movement, taking note of the aches and pains that wracked her spine. Before Zhao had time to react, she surged forward, decking him in the face.

While Jasmine and Zhao played cat and mouse, Zuko found himself dealing with the great badgermole known as Mim. She swiped out with a claw. Zuko, hands aflame, blocked the blow with pure fire; Mim withdrew her paw, screeching, "OUCH! OUCH! YEEEEOUCH! YOU'LL PAY FOR THAT! I'LL BE READY FOR THE NEXT ONE!"

Zuko took that opportunity to let the next flames flow toward Mim's head. She opened her mouth, inhaling deeply; the fire was sucked into her maw. She closed her jaws and made a few chewing motions before spitting the fire right back at Zuko. He fell on his back as the flames rushed over him, warming his skin. Mim then lumbered atop him, cackling madly as she held up a paw with sharp claws, ready to rend Zuko in two.

Zuko kicked both feet up at Mim's chest, calling up more fire from his legs. Mim was struck in the heart, and she wasn't ready for that blast. "YOUUUUUU!" she screamed as she staggered back on her two hind legs, patting out the fire in her fur with her claws.

Zuko scrambled up, punching fireball after fireball at Mim. She surrounded her claws in defensive magic, batting the bursts away. "If you like fire so much," she taunted, "maybe you should be BURNED ALIVE!"

Zuko threw himself backward as a column of flame erupted from beneath where he stood. Mim howled with laughter to herself as Zuko grit his teeth.

While his friends fought with tooth and nail, Aang flung himself toward Facilier. "And what exactly do you intend to do to me?" Facilier asked as he elegantly sidestepped out of Aang's path. "Burn me alive? Drown me? No, I know you. You wouldn't hurt a little old fly." Aang stumbled as he stopped beside Facilier. "You ain't gonna touch me."

"I'm not after you," Aang said calmly, glancing at Facilier's hand. He inhaled deeply, then let the breath out decisively.

"I think you're forgetting who's the power behind the Heartless in this city," Facilier reminded Aang. He struck the ground with his cane, and a Defender Heartless sprang up between Aang and himself.

Aang ducked around the Defender's chomping shield, striking it with a slash of fire; the Heartless dissolved. All the while, Aang's mind was on a friend of his: a certain earthbender who had perfected the art of bending metal. If she could do it, then Aang could, he supposed, though it would take concentration. It helped that the stones set in the rings he wanted were also a form of earth.

Aang thrust a hand toward Facilier and beckoned. To his surprise, Facilier felt the hand adorned with the rings that kept his five captives at his beck fly out to meet Aang's. He tried in vain to close his fingers and keep the rings in place, but Aang's pull was strong and his concentration solid.

It took an exorbitant amount of effort, but Aang called the rings right off Facilier's fingers; they sailed across the distance to land in Aang's palm. From there, his task was even more difficult. He had only energybent once, when he removed Zhao's bending. And he didn't even know if energybending would solve this problem. But at least Aang wouldn't walk away from this battle having said he never tried. His fist closed over the rings as his body rose from the ground, the arrows on his head and hands gleaming.

The battle was momentarily halted as all were distracted by Aang's entry into the Avatar State.

"KILL HIM NOW!" Ozai bellowed. "IF HE DIES IN THIS STATE, HE WILL NEVER REINCARNATE!"

The Huntsman was the first to try and move, but Crescent Rose curled around his chest from behind, keeping him back. Vexen threw a sharp icicle, which Sora melted out of the air with a Firaga spell. Xayide was prevented from striking by a blow to the back from the bony words "DON'T BE MEAN!". Zuko simply set Mim on fire again, making her focus on putting out the flames. Katara froze Wuya's feet to the ground and encased her hands in ice once more: a temporary solution, but one that worked just long enough. Jasmine grasped Zhao's neck from behind and put him in a headlock; she wasn't strong enough to hold him for long, but once again, it was long enough for Aang to accomplish what he needed to.

At the behest of the Avatar, the five souls encased in the rings burst free from containment, flying toward their true owners in the form of brilliant balls of light. A sphere glid toward and connected with Vexen, the Huntsman, Wuya, Xayide, and Mim each, absorbing into the host bodies.

With his work done, Aang left the Avatar State, weary from the effort he had spent on his specialized bending but satisfied with what he had done.

"Our souls have returned!" Xayide cried.

"We're back in control," Wuya said with a smirk. "And you know what that means." She marched toward Facilier and Ozai. "Time to get scared."

"Oh, I've been waiting to be able to do this for a LONG time!" Mim cackled as she approached Facilier.

"Get revenge if you must." The Huntsman spun to press the tip of the huntstaff to Ruby's stomach. "I would rather fell our longtime foes here and now."

"I would agree that if we do not take care of them now, we will regret it later," Xayide said as her hands charged up with electric magic.

"NO!" Vexen barked. "This is NOT our fight! The longer we linger here, the sooner Mozenrath perishes! He may already be dead! If you truly wish to save him, don't waste your time here!" He cast a Corridor leading to safety outside the city. "But if revenge is more important to you than he is, by all means, stay." He strode haughtily into the Corridor he had created.

The others didn't need to be told again. The Huntsman, Xayide, Mim, and Wuya barreled after him, the latter shutting the Corridor so none could follow.

"Looks like all your bodyguards but one flew the coop!" Sora taunted Facilier. He, Ruby, Papyrus, Jasmine, Aang, Katara, and Zuko regrouped.

"Is that true, now?" Facilier asked, striding toward the group.

"That one is enough," Zhao said wickedly, readying more flame at his fingertips.

Facilier held up a hand to halt Zhao. "Now, let's not be hasty." His eyes flickered over his foes, and for the first time, he could truly see the wear and tear his battle had put upon them. A black eye forming on Aang's face. Ruby's crimson Aura clocking overtime to patch her skin. Zuko's shortness of breath. The way Sora's arms drooped with the Keyblade in them. The way Papyrus leaned slightly to one side. A torn sleeve revealing a vivid scrape on Katara's arm. Abrasions coming into color around Jasmine's neck. "Y'all are tired, aren't ya?" Facilier asked. "It's been a long fight. Y'all are weary. Bet y'all wish ya could just lie down and close y'all's eyes for a spell. Go on. I wouldn't blame ya. You ain't gonna win this fight, anyway. Might as well just make your last moments as comfortable as ya can. And if ya close your eyes, you won't never see y'all's last moments comin'."

"What makes you think we won't win?" Katara snapped.

Facilier spread his arms wide. Springing from the Darkness that surrounded him, a Guard Armor and a Stealth Sneak flanked him while an Avalanche hovered above. Shadows twisted into Demon Towers behind.

The worn-out heroes' hearts sank. They knew there was no way they could carry on fighting in such intensity.

"Because I know y'all've already lost," Facilier said confidently.

A high-pitched BEEEEEEEEP sounded from above. All heads snapped upward to see the source.

At the helm of the gummi ship, Stork shook his head. "THAT'S the horn I'm working with?" He sighed. It was nowhere as deep or iconic as the Condor's. But it had done its job. He steered the ship directly down over his friends, keeping one hand on the steering mechanism as he stretched out to kick the side door open. He tilted the ship just enough that the door was within reach without the ship grazing the ground or the palace.

Sora gratefully hopped in, followed by Aang, Katara, Zuko, Papyrus, Ruby, and Jasmine. As Stork pulled the ship upward to take off, Zhao made a leap, grabbing onto the edges of the door to follow inside.

Jasmine's shoe planted hard into his face, and Zhao, startled, let go of the door. The ship zoomed upward without him; Jasmine slammed the door.

"All right, Stork!" Sora cheered.

"Where are we going?" Aang asked in a panic.

"You know this world better than me," Stork told him. "Where are we going to be safe?"

"We're just running away?" Aang replied, dismayed.

"Can we do anything ELSE?" Stork countered.

"But the people of the Fire Nation!" Aang argued. "We can't just leave them!"

"Do you expect me to board them all on this ship?" Stork snapped. "This ship is barely built to hold ten people, and there are eight of us on it now! There's no time to organize an evacuation! I'M JUST SAVING WHO I CAN!"

"Stork," Katara said softly, "please…"

Stork forced himself to calm down, breathing steadily. "I'm saving who I can," he repeated. "I'm not letting any of you get hurt anymore. You already look pretty bad for wear. We're going somewhere you can rest. I'm sorry we have to leave the city this way, but there is NOTHING WE CAN DO."

"But…" Aang grasped for an argument and found he had none.

"You can take us to the Western Air Temple," Katara volunteered. "I'll tell you the way."

The ship soared off into the darkness of the night, leaving the Fire Nation Capital to burn in its wake.

...

"You didn't mention it was a JUICE bar," Roman muttered as he followed Scarlet, Herb, Snatcher, Rémington, Grany, and Neo into the establishment, which was characterized by neon lights, pastel paint, and cushy barstools. A luminescent jukebox played a jaunty tune in the corner. "Are you trying to kill me of non-alcohol poisoning?" Roman continued to groan.

"It's open all night, it's empty, and it's serving some form of drinks," Scarlet reminded him. "Nowhere else in town fills the bill."

"Fine," Roman huffed. "First order of business, I need to hit the can."

"Me too, actually," Herb added.

"Bathroom breaks for everyone," Scarlet mandated, "then we sit down, we order, and we talk."

The bathrooms would only accommodate one person each, so the group alternated. As the others stood in line for the bathroom Roman had just exited, Roman wandered over to the jukebox. It offered a selection of songs that Roman recognized from his time in Knightdock and trading memes with Peter. Unfolding a few bills he'd liberated from the Wickford locker room, Roman made his selection; an obnoxiously bouncy song filled the bar.

At last, the seven were seated: Grany at the far end, then Rémington, then Herb, then Scarlet, then Snatcher, then Roman, then Neo. All ordered concoctions of brilliant colors; Roman slid a few more bills toward the barista. "A tip for staying out of our business," he announced.

The barista served up the drinks, then moved to the back room to clean up the dishes from the earlier crowd. Only when all seven drinks were on the table and the server out of sight did Snatcher dare broach sensitive subjects.

"To begin," he said, "what brings you here, Madame Overkill?"

"Well, I'm not exactly a local," Scarlet answered.

Rémington started at that. "That seems to be a popular euphemism," he pointed out.

"Euphemism?" Scarlet was caught off guard; were they onto her?

"For being from another world, Madame Overkill," Snatcher said plainly.

"If you know about that," Scarlet stated, "you have to be from another one yourself."

"We originate from three, and have made a home that is not tied to any," Snatcher informed her. "Now that we have the truth out of the way, please continue."

"Well, to make a long story short, Herb and I tried to run a heist on our homeworld and we basically ended up ruined, with nothing to our names anymore," Scarlet said coldly. "So when we heard about certain laboratories experimenting with interdimensional travel, we made our last crime on that world to hijack their equipment. We thought a change of scenery might improve our luck."

"And has it?" Snatcher asked.

"You tell me," Scarlet replied. "You caught us in the middle of our first heist here."

"So what's your story?" Herb asked. "Are you some kind of crime syndicate?"

"More or less," Snatcher informed him. "My companions and I belong to a group we call the 'WHAM ARMY.'"

"I dig the name," Herb said with a smile.

"Does it mean something?" Scarlet asked.

"The initials of the founding members," Snatcher explained. "Most of whom you do not see here, but of whom Torchwick and I are two. We have assembled from many worlds and are of a fair size in number. Our goals are conquest and acquisition of whatever we want that does not already belong to us. We have employed all manner of science, magic, and brute force in this goal."

"Magic!" Scarlet repeated.

"Magic," Snatcher affirmed with a nod. "There is more to this universe than you yet know, Madame Overkill, and we are privy to it."

"Well, a lot of the technology on this world already seems like magic to me," Scarlet admitted. "I'm ready to believe just about anything. There are even rumors of real magic on this world, though I haven't actually seen anything in action."

"Now, I would not say the WHAM ARMY is constantly looking to increase its ranks," Snatcher went on, "but we did begin as merely eight, and have expanded through alliances made on the worlds we have traveled to. If you are kindred spirits, there just may be room for you both among our numbers."

"Scarlet and I are all about conquest," Herb asserted. "That was the whole point of the heist that went wrong."

"Not to mention we're practically card-carrying supervillains," Scarlet added. "If you have room, please, PLEASE consider us. Not that I'm begging."

"But we really still don't have anywhere else to call home," Herb confessed.

"The fact that you kicked all our asses but Neo's in about sixty seconds flat adds to your résumé," Roman pointed out. "And no, no one expects you to be able to beat Neo. Ever."

"So, with that established – " Snatcher attempted.

"Hang on," Scarlet interrupted. "Is it just me or is this song a lot longer than I remember it being?"

"It just played twice," Herb and Roman said in unison before looking at each other with suspicion.

"Why would it…" Scarlet trailed off. "Never mind. I know why."

"Torchwick," Snatcher sighed, "you didn't."

"This song is a meme in music form!" Roman laughed. "It's just that ridiculous! So while the rest of you were lined up for the can, I bought twenty-one plays of it."

"Hey, that's funny," Herb replied. "When I heard this song playing, I thought it would be hilarious to put it on a loop, so I bought twenty-one plays of it."

Neo pointed to herself, indicating that she, too, had loaded the jukebox up with plays of the same song.

"So this song is going to play sixty-one times," Rémington stated in awe as Snatcher groaned and rubbed his temples.

"Welcome to life with Torchwick and Miss Neopolitan," Snatcher sighed.

"Make that welcome to life with Herb," Scarlet chimed in, looking at Rémington. "But the good outweighs the bad infinitely." Looking Rémington over, she said suddenly, "I'm sorry, but that outfit just doesn't work with that half-cape thing you have going on. Have you ever considered maybe wearing a full-length cape?"

"It crossed my mind," Rémington grumbled.

"Back to business," Snatcher said sharply.

Scarlet spun on her stool to face him. "I just realized something," she stated. "You said the WHAM ARMY was the founders' initials, and that included you. But that doesn't have a P or an F. Unless they're somehow silent."

"Well," Snatcher admitted, "you're going to need to know that what you see of me now is only part of my identity. For the most part, I'm known by a different name, wearing a different wardrobe, speaking in a different voice…being a different gender."

Scarlet and Herb's eyes widened at this. "So…I don't want to be rude," Scarlet said tentatively, "but I'm a little curious. What's the name you usually go by?"

"Archibald Snatcher," Snatcher replied. "And when it is appropriate, you shall refer to me as 'Mr. Snatcher.' Should our relationship progress to something more informal, you may drop the honorific. You are not to call me 'Archibald,' and you are most certainly not to refer to me as 'Archie.' Only ONE person is allowed the latter."

Roman snapped his fingers and pointed to himself.

"And…your voice?" Scarlet asked.

Snatcher glanced around to make sure there were no other patrons in the bar and the barista was out of sight. In a very low tone, he let Frou Frou's accent drop, slipping into his natural timbre: "It sounds very much like this."

"OOH!" Scarlet squealed. "I LOVE your accent! Not, like, in a weird way. It's just…well, who doesn't love a British accent? It makes you sound so sophisticated!"

Snatcher had to admit to himself he felt flattered by that comment. "Thank you very much, Madame Overkill," he replied, flipping the switch back to Frou Frou. "Though I will be staying in character within the walls of this establishment, should there be eavesdroppers about."

"Totally understandable," Herb said with a nod.

"Just one last question, if you don't mind," Scarlet said. "I really don't know how to put this, but…are you a queen, or are you, you know…"

"Trans?" Roman supplied.

Scarlet nodded at Roman's term, which was the most concise way she'd ever heard the concept put.

"Dressing as Madame Frou Frou is most certainly freeing," Snatcher confessed, "and she composes a part of my identity that is indelible. However, I am very much a man in women's clothing."

"Got it," Scarlet said with a nod. "I would NEVER have guessed if you didn't tell me, by the way. I think you might be the best queen I've ever seen."

"Amen to that," Herb added.

"You know," Roman broke in, "it is REALLY rude to just ask if someone's trans."

Scarlet looked away sheepishly. "Sorry – "

"But on that note," Roman continued, "say, oh, I don't know, that Ar – that Madame Frou Frou WERE trans, you'd be okay with that, right? You wouldn't have any problems with that, would you?"

Neo reached over to pinch Roman's thigh, increasing the pressure to try and get him to stop talking.

"Well, no," Scarlet answered. "I was just curious, but it doesn't make a difference."

"Good," Roman said. "And…the rest of you. WHAM ARMY veterans. You're all cool with it, right?"

"Well…yes," Snatcher answered, perplexed.

"Yeah," Rémington said as Grany nodded. "Is there a reason you're so invested in this?"

"No real reason," Roman tried to say casually as Neo's fingers tightened on his thigh. "I just want to make sure that if someone DID happen to be trans, they wouldn't have to worry about catching any shit for – DAMMIT, NEO!" Roman, having had enough of Neo's pinching, forwent doing the sensible thing (changing the subject) and instead slammed his hands on the bar as he stood, looking down at Neo. "Will you STOP IT? Just because I accidentally outed you five times does NOT mean I'm going to do it a sixth!"

Neo gasped, clapping both hands over her mouth, eyes bulging.

Roman could feel the additional bewildered stares of Snatcher, Scarlet, Herb, Rémington, and Grany as well, and he realized what he had just said. "…Or maybe it does," he said sheepishly. "I don't suppose an apology – "

Neo's elbow jammed right into Roman's groin, causing him to double over and clutch the bar for support.

"That's a no," Roman wheezed.

"So, wait," Rémington said as Roman tried to settle back down on the barstool. "Does this mean she – "

"Whatever bullshit is about to come out of your mouth," Roman growled, "it doesn't get an answer, Rémy."

"But I just want to know if – "

"IT DOESN'T GET AN ANSWER." Roman pointed an accusing finger over the entire crowd. "And if any of you so much as misgender her, let alone give her hell over this…well, I'd threaten to beat the shit out of you, but the truth is, she'll get to you and kill you first." He then looked to Snatcher. "Except you. You'll get a very stern talking-to, but no beating."

"I appreciate the sentiment," Snatcher replied. "Though, rest assured, Mademoiselle Neopolitan, as a trusted friend and accomplice, I have no intention of turning this…revelation against you." Now there was something he never would have said if it were Trout, Pickles, or Gristle, Snatcher realized. How the tides did turn.

Neo, face red as Scarlet's gown, put her head in her hands and her elbows on the bar, hiding her eyes.

"Neo?" Scarlet attempted. "Honey? It's okay. It really doesn't make a difference. If I offend you, you have every right to take out revenge on me. Well, I mean, I'd prefer if you didn't kill me, but just give me what I have coming without going that far."

"Same goes for me," Herb chimed in.

Scarlet reached around Snatcher and Roman, stretching her arm across the bar. "We women villains have to stick together," she insisted. "It's the only way we're going to make it when men try to dominate the villain business."

Neo parted two fingers to eye up Scarlet's hand. After some deliberation, she reached out and grasped Scarlet's hand in a gesture of solidarity, hoping this boded well for their friendship and wasn't the gateway to a tragic ending in which Neo found herself forced to murder either Overkill.

"Yes," Rémington tried again, "but – "

"REMY, IF YOU DON'T SHUT UP, I WILL STAB YOU," Roman snarled.

"Okay," Rémington relented. "No questions."

Roman put a casual arm around Neo's shoulders. "Look, I may be an idiot, but I'm an idiot who's got your back," he attempted.

Neo shrugged his arm away while still gripping Scarlet's hand. Roman got the message. He knew he and Neo would patch up their relationship later anyhow, just as they'd done the last five times. He turned his thoughts to wondering if he could discreetly slip any of the ice cubes from his drink down his pants to ease the pain she'd left him with.

"We are diverting greatly from the business at hand," Snatcher reminded the entire group. "Madame and Monsieur Overkill, I wish to know the exact details of this spectacularly failed heist that led you to pursue travel to other worlds."

Scarlet dropped Neo's hand gently, settling in on her seat. "Well," she sighed, "it all started when I decided to recruit new minions to help me steal the crown of the queen of England. Because, as I have insisted many times, if I had the crown, that would make me a princess, and everyone would have to like me."

"A somewhat simplistic motivation," Snatcher remarked.

"What are you talking about?" Roman broke in. "That's more or less what you were trying to do with the white hat. Minus the princess part. Because let's face it, you're no princess. You're the damn queen."

"Stop flattering me, Torchwick," Snatcher said coyly, meaning the exact opposite. "And…I suppose you have a point."

"What?" Scarlet replied. "What were you after?"

"Where I came from," Snatcher answered, "the elite who governed my little town were signified by glorious white top hats. I took it upon myself to earn a white hat by whatever means possible. For ten years, I worked to give the town an enemy and eliminate that enemy slowly in order to get into the lord's good graces and win his hat from him. My job was half done for me, anyhow. The Boxtrolls were already seen as menaces among the town, and aside from their mechanical expertise, they were little more than tiny, chattering nuisances."

"Oh, tell me about tiny, chattering nuisances," Scarlet groaned. "That's where it all went wrong with me. The Minions. They're some kind of…tiny creature that wears jeans and gravitates to the most evil supervillain they can find. Please, do NOT ask me to explain any further than that, because I barely understand it to this day. I thought they'd actually be able to, you know, help me get my crown, so I hired them. Now, how did you get rid of the Boxtrolls?"

"A giant crusher," Snatcher answered. The part where the Boxtrolls escaped their boxes and let him crush empty cardboard could be revealed at a later time.

"See, that's what I should have just done to the Minions," Scarlet groaned. "Not just the three I hired. ALL OF THEM. They messed up the crown heist, they annoyed me and Herb half to death – "

"I dunno," Herb brought up. "I kinda had fun with them when they weren't ruining our entire legacy."

" – And one of them ended up becoming king of England while on my payroll," Scarlet finished. "KING. I was trying to take the crown for myself, and HE TOOK THE WHOLE PALACE."

"I can't imagine what I'd do if a Boxtroll had earned the white hat I had earmarked," Snatcher said sympathetically. "You poor, poor dear!"

"I got him to turn the throne over to me," Scarlet went on, "and everything was good for a while until the Minions crashed and absolutely RUINED my coronation. All I tried to do was murder them, as I was JUSTIFIED IN DOING AT THAT POINT, and how did they pay me back? Hijackng Herb's superweapon, using it against me, and giving my crown BACK TO THE QUEEN. I let them into my house! I told them bedtime stories that were only vaguely threatening! And THAT'S how I get repaid?"

"It does sting so terribly," Snatcher sympathized, "to give and give and never gain the respect you are due."

"Anyway," Scarlet groaned, "they put the queen back on the throne and ruined my and Herb's career as supervillains forever. We were known as the world's best supervillains, but the moment the Minions got through with us, some upstart kid took the title, and the Minions latched right onto him. Well, I hope he gets everything he deserves from them." She sighed. "I have a feeling I know the answer to this story, but did you ever get your white hat?" She slumped over the bar, chin in her hands and elbows on the polished counter.

"I came so close," Snatcher replied. "Lord Portley-Rind was about to lower it onto my head, what with the execution of the final Boxtroll. It then turned out that the Boxtrolls…" The later time had arrived. "…were not…as dead as I had previously believed. I had to resort to a backup plan of destroying the town until the hat was handed to me, but that plot was…very quickly thwarted."

"I would have gone for the same plan," Scarlet stated.

"We totally should have done that!" Herb said in frustration, snapping his fingers. "I could've used my superweapon on you and made you a giant Scarlet of doom so you could stomp on Buckingham Palace until they made you queen. Then we could have gone for kind of an apocalyptic type deal with how we ruled the country. Dystopian dictators and all. Actually, put 'giant Scarlet of doom' on the back burner. We might still use that one."

"Isn't it weird, though?" Scarlet realized. "You and I have so much in common, Madame Frou Frou! Both of us chasing power through a headpiece of status, both of us being thwarted by the most annoying little creatures we never got a chance to crush…"

"He's even got a thing for red," Roman chimed in. "Just like you."

"No!" Scarlet gasped.

"It becomes me," Snatcher informed her.

"This has to be fate!" Scarlet gushed. "You and I were meant to meet up! And I have to say I'm loving your entire team so far."

"You're not so bad yourself," Roman told her. "I can already see you as a WHAMMER."

"Is that what you're calling members of the WHAM ARMY now?" Grany asked.

Roman shrugged.

Neo gave Scarlet and Herb a thumbs-up.

"You have charisma," Rémington stated. "At the very least, you'll work." He pointed to Herb. "Him, I'm not convinced on. He wasn't very impressive during our fight."

"I'm more of a brains guy," Herb replied. "I've always been an inventor. The lava gun was my idea. Because what is more awesome than a gun that shoots pure lava? And that's not even my BEST invention. I've made extending exoskeletons, machines that will grow you to a superhuman size…and I'm working on plans to make even more cool stuff in the future."

"You're an inventor," Snatcher reiterated, realization washing over him.

"Yeah," Herb told him. "That's what I just said."

"And…'Herb,'" Snatcher went on. "That wouldn't be short for 'Herbert,' by chance, would it now?"

"What else is 'Herb' short for?" Herb asked jokingly.

As Snatcher's eyes traveled over Herb, his lanky physique and brunette hair, a surge of loathing bubbled up from his core. "And you and Madame Overkill…"

"I love this woman." Herb threw his arm around Scarlet, pulling her close. "Don't know what I'd do without her. No matter what we steal or take over, she's the most valuable thing in my life."

"Oh, stop, you!" Scarlet replied, her own arms traveling around him sensually. "I can't mean half as much to you as you do to me. You stole something pretty big, though."

"What?"

"My heart." She giggled, pressing a quick kiss to his lips and snuggling close to his chest; he nuzzled her cheek with his own face.

Yes, it was burning loathing that was washing over Snatcher, and he knew exactly why. He had to steer the conversation away from the prospect of the Overkills joining the WHAM ARMY, and fast.

"Get a room, you two!" Grany groaned.

"He's just jealous," Scarlet said from her position draped over Herb, her hands falling into his.

"I get the same thing from him about my relationship," Rémington stated. "It's definitely jealousy."

"You're dating a madwoman who threw you off the side of a boat!" Grany reminded him.

"She's perfect," Rémington sighed.

"Can you just let me do my job?" Grany begged. "I'm your brother! I swore I wouldn't let you get hurt! And that woman is hurt incarnate!"

"I'm the one who makes sure you don't get hurt," Rémington argued. "Ever since you became a Bow Meow. And I think I did a pretty good job of it."

"Well, I'm not a Bow Meow anymore," Grany told him, "so I'm taking my post back."

"You guys are adorable!" Scarlet gushed. "I'm so jealous of you, you know that? I always wished I had a brother or a sister growing up." She turned to Roman and Neo. "And I'm guessing you two are kind of like a sibling thing too?"

"Exactly!" Roman confirmed. "Not blood, but who needs blood?"

"Madame Frou Frou," Scarlet decided, "I think we should adopt each other as siblings. We do really click."

"I would rather not – " Snatcher tried to protest.

"Do you have any siblings?" Scarlet pressed.

"As a matter of fact," Snatcher told her, "no, nor am I on the market – "

"Too late," Scarlet decided. "I'm your sister now."

"Oh, joy."

"What do you think, Grany?" Rémington asked. "Should we rope the two of them into being honorary Smisses? They are both in need of more siblings."

"I see no reason why not," Grany said with a grin.

"I truly do NOT need more siblings," Snatcher growled. "Or any siblings at all."

"You want in?" Scarlet asked Roman.

"Nah," Roman responded. "I can't really be dating my sibling. That'd be weird. I'll just be your brother-in-law, just like Herb-al Tea is all of yours."

"Herb-al Tea!" Herb repeated. "I dig it!"

"It doesn't work," Grany argued. "You don't pronounce the 'H' in 'herbal.'"

"Yes you do," Snatcher said without thinking.

"Well, with YOUR accent, yes," Grany relented.

"So, do we make the cut?" Scarlet asked. "Are we in the WHAM ARMY?"

"It is yet too soon to tell," Snatcher attempted. Had he a good excuse, he would shut the Overkills down then and there, and he knew that if he only had a little more time, a suitable line of reasoning would present itself.

Neo, however, was nodding and giving Scarlet two thumbs up now.

"I'd say you're in," Roman said cheerfully. "I eventually wanna hear more about the time you were the ruling royal couple. Though if you're gonna run with us, I need to know if you can sing, dance, or both."

"We're both okay singers," Herb answered as Scarlet finally peeled herself off him, "but we're mad awesome dancers."

"You'll fit right in!" Roman insisted. "And, hey, score another point you have in common with Frou Frou." He placed a hand on Snatcher's shoulder and another on his forearm, leaning into him playfully. "She's the best damn dancer you're gonna find in the whole base, and has pipes like an ANGEL."

"Torchwick, stop." Snatcher's declaration was no longer coy but insistent.

"You can dance?" Scarlet challenged. "Then dance with me. Right now." She slid down off the bar stool, heels clicking onto the floor. "I wanna see if you're ACTUALLY better than me. The rest of you are in too. I want everyone on this dance floor, right here, right now. To this obnoxious song that's been playing for the past half hour. We are SETTLING who is the best dancer in the room."

"It's not going to be Rémy," Grany laughed as he slid off his seat.

"Very funny," Rémington countered as he followed Grany and Scarlet out onto the floor. "I can be a contender for the title."

"You are ON!" Roman practically leapt off his stool. Neo followed eagerly.

"Ready when you are, my queen!" Herb cried as he rather clumsily stumbled out onto the floor, regaining his grace once he reached the center of the room.

Snatcher watched with fury as Scarlet began to move her body to the beat, flowing fluidly. She was exactly as good as Snatcher hoped she wouldn't be. And she was infecting the others: the Smisses, Herb, Neo, even Roman. All of their eyes were fixed upon her as she led the crowd; they were eating out of the palm of her hand.

"Come on!" Scarlet waved toward Snatcher. "Get in on this!"

It boiled over. "Absolutely NOT!" Snatcher screamed as he stormed across the floor and right out the door of the bar.

Roman's head whipped to follow Snatcher's trajectory. "Archie - ?"
Snatcher stomped out onto the snowy sidewalk just as the early-morning shuttle bus was pulling up. He jogged to its door, boarding the vehicle and feeling grateful to powers he couldn't even name that it was ready to take him back to the hotel at that hour.

Back inside the bar, the dancing crowd had frozen, watching the door where Snatcher had just departed. "Did…we do something wrong?" Scarlet wondered out loud. "Maybe we shouldn't be doing this."

"Shit," Roman muttered before charging out of the bar.

"Should we go after them?" Herb wondered out loud.

"Why should we?" Rémington posed. "He's obviously mad at one of you or the other. Following him won't do you any good. But he's probably just being dramatic and will be fine in the morning."

"I thought we were getting along so well," Scarlet moaned. "We were siblings!"

"He'll get over whatever's making him act like a brat," Grany told her. "Let's not let this dance party go to waste. We still have at least twenty more plays of this song."

"Well…okay," Scarlet said with a shrug. Maybe she had come on too strong, she thought to herself. She couldn't pin down exactly where things had soured, and that irked her. But Herb, Rémington, Grany, and Neo had begun dancing once more, and that inspired her to join right back in, especially as Herb was looking especially enticing and in need of a dance partner that night; he extended his hand to bring her into a spin, and she accepted.

Roman barged out into the snowy night just in time to see Snatcher board the shuttle and the bus take off up the hill toward the hotel. "SHIT!" he yelled as soon as the vehicle got too far away to chase. He could go back into the juice bar and dance until the next bus came around, he knew.

But he was definitely not about to do that.

...

Snatcher lay back on the hotel bed for a while, leafing through "True Stories Behind Famous Portraits" and absorbing more information on this enigmatic Queen Marie who seemed to be at the heart of this entire scandal, as well as a few other figures who seemed to be relevant to the history of this world. The wealth of information wasn't enough to take his mind off the anger that seethed within. After quite some time of diversion failing to divert, Snatcher decided it was time to turn in for the night – or the day, as it seemed. He would be sleeping well into the early afternoon. The others would probably spend the entire night with the Overkills, laughing about how grand of a time they'd all had when they arrived around lunchtime.

As Snatcher reached back to undo the fastenings of his gown, he became aware of a rustling at the lock mechanism of his room door. He paused to see it through; Roman burst into the room, now dusting snow off the brim of his hat.

"What's wrong?" he asked sternly.

"Whatever gave you the idea that anything was wrong?" Snatcher asked dryly, now no longer bothering with Frou Frou's accent since he and Roman were alone – he wasn't in the mood to be Frou Frou anymore anyhow.

"Don't fuck with me." Roman shut the door with a foot, settling the hat on his head. "Something got under your skin back at the bar, and I'm guessing you're still stewing on it. Now, I didn't wait outside in the freezing cold for a shuttle for half an hour just for you to play the denial game, so fess up."

"And you care because why, exactly?" Snatcher retorted. "I'd've thought you'd rather dance the night away with your newest friends rather than follow me."

"You know way better than that," Roman told him. "We're partners in crime. This is what we DO. This is how we WORK. You obviously need to get SOMETHING off your chest, so just get it out already! It's just you and me. No Neo, no Smisses, no Overkills." He crossed the room to sit on the edge of the bed. "I'm listening."

Snatcher was taken aback. He shouldn't have been, he realized. How could he have thought Roman wouldn't follow him? And if there was one person in all of existence who he felt deserved to know the truth, it was the redheaded man sitting before him.

Tentatively, Snatcher sat down on the bed next to Roman. "I've never told you much of my childhood," he began.

"No," Roman agreed, "you haven't. Not exactly sure what that has to do with this, but I follow you."

"It will make sense if you listen," Snatcher promised. "When I was but a young boy, growing up in Cheesebridge, I was not well-liked, as you can imagine. I had my looks, my status, and my romantic tendencies working against me. For some time, my only friend was a pet rat I rescued from the clutches of my mother. Then, when I was thirteen, I met my first true friend. It was at a party thrown for young master Portley-Rind's birthday. Without going into detail, I humiliated myself – "

"No, I want the detail," Roman interrupted. "What did you do?"

"I…kissed young master Portley-Rind's hand," Snatcher admitted, "instead of shaking it. At the time, he seemed quite handsome to me, and I was flustered out of common sense."

"The same dipshit that made you jump through hoops for the hat later?"
"I had poor taste in men. Anyhow, I left the festivities, but I was followed…"

...

The door to the manor opened, and a short, slender and dark-haired boy clad in a blue waistcoat and sorch-marked pants slipped out onto the street, a plate of cheese in hand. "Archibald Snatcher?" he greeted tentatively.

"What do YOU want?" Snatcher, only the tender age of thirteen, snapped.

"I only wanted to see if you were all right," the boy said softly. "It wasn't fair, the way they made fun of you in there. You didn't do anything wrong. They always do that, you know. Make fun of people for the silliest reasons. It's very rude of them."

Was this some sort of trick? "If you've come to ridicule me as well," Archibald growled, "you can leave."

"But I didn't!" the boy protested. "I just know how awful I'd feel if they'd made fun of me. Well, all right, I've learned to ignore them for the most part, but sometimes it's too much to bear all the same. And I'm sorry."

"For what? You didn't do anything."

"I know," the boy insisted, "but I'm still sorry they laughed at you."

...

"His name was Herbert Trubshaw," Snatcher informed Roman.

"Wait," Roman said in awe. "Trubshaw? Like, TRUBSHAW? Like the BOXBOY? Oh, PLEASE tell me it was his uncle or something distant."

"His father," Snatcher growled. "As I said…horrid taste."

"I'm not judging," Roman told him. "At least, I'm trying not to judge."

"Anyhow," Snatcher went on, "he was the first one I ever told the truth…"

...

"Does it truly not bother you, what they say about us?" Snatcher asked. A subject had been weighing heavily on his mind for a while, and he figured it was about time he lightened the load; he knew by now he could trust Herbert. "That we're…involved. That we're queer."

"Not one bit," Herbert stated confidently. "Does it bother you?"
"Not most days. Of course, if the Portley-Rinds buy in, it will be that much harder to attain a White Hat."

"But not impossible."

"No, not impossible," Snatcher repeated. "Or…it wouldn't be, if the rumors were completely off the mark."

"Archibald, are you saying what I think you're saying?" Herbert looked to his friend in concern.

"I am," Snatcher admitted, not making eye contact but instead fixing his gaze on the surface of the water. "We may not be together, but what they think about me is…well, it's quite true. I am…one of that sort."

And as soon as he'd confessed, he realized that the weight had only gotten heavier. It really wasn't something he should have admitted to anyone, he thought, and now Herbert was likely going to be repulsed and tell his secret to everyone he could find come morning…

"That's all right," Herbert said softly.

Not the response Snatcher had been expecting, but the one he had been hoping for.

"After all, it's rather arbitrary, isn't it?" Herbert went on. "That men should only love women, and vice versa. Who's to say two men can't love each other, or two women? Is it because they can't bear children that way? Because that's ridiculous. I've often wished there was a way for someone to bear a child without having to involve another parent. I do so want children when I grow older, but I sometimes fear I'll never be married…I'm sorry. I've just made it about me. I didn't mean to. What I do mean to say is that it doesn't matter to me one bit whether you love women or other men. You're my friend, Archibald. That's not going to change because of this. And I know no one else would take this well. I swear to secrecy upon my very life. I won't tell a soul. Not human nor Boxtroll nor alley cat."

And now the weight was removed, and replaced with a different presence entirely. Archibald looked at his friend to be met with an honest smile. "Thank you," Snatcher replied. "You've…no idea what it means."

Herbert casually reached over to pat his friend on the shoulder. "Any secret you have will be safe with me."

"Is that so?" Snatcher blurted. "Because I've another, you know. A lot of times, when we get an order at the shop for a particularly beautiful dress that turns out to fit me, I try it on. Father caught me at it once and made me swear he'd never see me wearing such things again, and I kept my promise. He's never SEEN me in another gown. I'm just more careful now, and…" He stopped himself short. Perhaps that was too far to test the boundaries of Herbert's secret-keeping. "I…er…"

"Do you even wear the high shoes?" Herbert asked.

"Yes," Snatcher replied.

"I've often wondered how women keep their balance in those high shoes," Herbert admitted. "I knew you had a good sense of balance, but you must be very graceful to be able to walk in those shoes."

"I'd like to think I am," Snatcher stated rather boastfully. So he really could trust Herbert with anything, it seemed.

"If I put a pair on, I doubt I'd get far," Herbert sighed.

"Well, we could test that out," Snatcher suggested. "Later tonight, even. They're not as beastly as you think."

...

"We had many escapades together, Trubshaw and I," Snatcher continued. "We would traditionally spend Christmas together and exchange gifts. I taught him how to skate on ice; he was an absolute wreck at it before. He fancied himself an inventor, and let me be privy to all the doohickeys he built. He was the one who informed me that the Boxtrolls were mechanically inclined rather than cannibalistically. One could have called us inseparable. So much so that…"

The words wouldn't come.

"You two were a thing," Roman guessed.

"No," Snatcher told him, staring straight ahead, not daring to look him in the eye.

Roman realized the truth. "You had a thing for him," he said, "but he didn't feel that way about you."

"Now you're getting it. We met a girl later on. Miss Marjorie Travis. To this day, the thought of her nauseates me. He became infatuated with her, and she filled his head with ideas about white hats: that they meant nothing. That they were only held by the powerful, who stayed powerful, and one could not simply earn the hat through toil."

"But…isn't that exactly what the dipshits in charge were doing?"

"I learned that eventually," Snatcher growled. "But at the moment I needed Trubshaw to stand beside me the most…"

...

"I'm not trying to be holier-than-thou," Herbert insisted. "I'm merely trying to figure out where I went wrong, that my dearest friend isn't speaking to me!"

"Your dearest friend, am I?" Snatcher countered. "After Miss Travis, of course. Oh, I do apologize. MRS. Trubshaw, now, she is."

"It was never meant to be a competition between you," Herbert pleaded. "I know the two of you never got on, but I do love both of you – "

"You only seem to be married to one of us. And what about your little friends - " His voice went hushed: "Underground? I suppose you've only become closer to them. You're practically one of them anyway."

"They're dear to me, of course," Herbert sputtered. "The point is, Archibald, I never meant to lose you by loving anyone else! If I've hurt you, if I've wronged you in any way, then please, tell me what I've done so I can make amends!"

Snatcher badly wanted to have a fair argument against Herbert, to tell him exactly what made him such a reprehensible person and a terrible friend. But he didn't. All he had was a man desperate to reclaim the bond he'd lost, and who was doing quite a wonderful job at communicating his own kindness. When Archibald said "You've nothing to apologize for," he knew it was true. "Choosing the Portley-Rind wedding over yours was my decision."

"But why, Archibald?"

"You mean after all this time, you still don't know?" Snatcher replied, somewhat in disbelief. "It was the next step toward the White Hat, Herbert! The most influential family in all of Cheesebridge now owes the success of its heir's wedding to the Snatchers! Can't you imagine what that will do for us?"

"And is that why you've ignored me since then?" Herbert asked, his voice suddenly taking on an edge. "Because speaking to me won't get you any closer to that White Hat you've dreamed of?"

"Perhaps it is."

"Why is it so important to you, Archibald?"

"Why is a White Hat important?" Snatcher was flabbergasted. "It comes with power! It comes with prestige! It comes with wealth and influence! It comes with everything I've been denied my whole life!"

"Except for love and friendship," Herbert said softly. "You had that. It wasn't enough, though, was it?"

The silence was deafening before Snatcher said, "You realize it wasn't supposed to be this way. We were supposed to achieve greatness together. But you gave it up the moment you met Mrs. Trubshaw née Travis. You settled. You decided my dreams were just too good for you."

"That…that isn't entirely true, Archibald," Herbert stated, his tone now growing shaky. "I thought…perhaps we could live out our lives the way we wanted and stop caring what everyone thinks about us. So long as we had each other, the White Hat wouldn't matter. We could follow our dreams in our own ways. I would continue to invent, even if my inventions never became famed or used by the White Hats. And you…you always did write such beautiful poetry. You could have been a writer. Or an artist, with the way you crafted all of the gowns at your family's shop. Or even an actor. And Marjorie…well, we won't speak of Marjorie if you don't want to hear it, but she would have been my wife all the same, and she would have been able to live the same way, doing what she loves no matter what anyone thinks. And Fish and Shoe, they could be with us too, instead of having to run and hide from every human aboveground. We, all of us, could have had – we could STILL have a wonderful life together, making things and being ourselves!"

"And what's brought all this on?" Snatcher snapped. "You were always the first to champion that my family might actually do it, you know! That I myself, Archibald Snatcher, might – "

"You would NEVER have earned that hat, Archibald, and you KNOW it!" Herbert finally snapped.

Snatcher was taken aback, giving Herbert an absolutely stunned look. He had absolutely never seen this side of Herbert before and was almost curious to plumb the depths of his anger. "What…is THAT…supposed to mean?"
"It means the White Hats are terrible people who only care about keeping the hats in their own families, or buying their way into power!" Herbert ranted. "They've always thought of you as so much lesser than you are, and that's all they'll EVER see you as! To them, you don't have the look, the manners, or the money, and you never will! And it isn't because you aren't worthy; it's because they're pigheaded and short-sighted! No amount of hemming wedding gowns is going to change that, Archibald! I'm sorry to have to speak ill of your dream, but that's all it will EVER be! Just…a…dream! And the sooner you WAKE UP from it, the sooner you'll finally be happy with your life!"

"YOU DON'T KNOW A THING ABOUT WHITE HATS!" Snatcher roared in retaliation. "AND YOU DON'T KNOW THE FIRST THING ABOUT ME, IF YOU THINK I CAN'T GET THEM TO SEE WHAT I DESERVE! YOU NEVER THOUGHT THIS BEFORE YOU MET THAT WOMAN, AND LOOK WHAT YOU'VE BECOME! HER HOLLOWED-OUT PUPPET THAT SHE USES TO SAY HER WORDS THROUGH!"

"THAT'S NOT TRUE!" Herbert yelled. "SHE DIDN'T CHANGE MY MIND! SHE JUST MADE ME REALIZE WHAT I HAD THOUGHT ALL ALONG!"

Now the silence was not so much deafening as it was the equivalent of something strong breaking unexpectedly in two. Snatcher took a few breaths before he was able to formulate his response: "You've…thought this from the very start? You thought I…that my family would NEVER be able to achieve power? And you let me believe you supported me."

"You wanted it so badly," Herbert said weakly. "I suppose I talked myself into it because of that. I wanted you to be happy. But it's been so long, Archibald. We aren't children anymore. We know how this town works. We know how the WORLD works. And we can't go on pretending. The good news is that we don't need the White Hats or their approval in order to be happy. Because I've been thinking it over, and I realized…things like hats, they're not what make you who you are. YOU make – "

"Don't ever speak to me again."

Herbert was immediately filled with regret. "But, Archibald – "

"Don't EVER speak to me AGAIN!" Giving Herbert a rough shove aside, Snatcher stormed quickly back toward his family's shop.

...

"Wow," Roman breathed. "Sounds preachy."

"Are you beginning to see the parallel?" Snatcher asked. "He was a gangly brunette. First name, Herbert."

"Like Herb-al Tea," Roman realized. "Okay, seeing the similarity, but still not sure what any of that has to do with any of this. It's not like Herb-al Tea or Strawberry Punch told you you couldn't get a white hat."

"…Strawberry Punch?"

"She wears red and she punches people. Do I have to keep explaining these nicknames?"

"But don't you see?" Snatcher continued in exasperation, still not daring to look Roman in the eye. "Did it not occur to you WHY Mrs. Overkill won Mr. Overkill over? Why she succeeded where I failed? She has everything I lack! She's exactly the sort of slender woman that Herberts fall for at first sight. Quite unlike myself. You heard her story. She's been through almost the same as me. And all of you are falling for her charms as well. She's a watered-down Archibald Snatcher, is what she is, and yet she's getting everything I never had! Should I welcome her with open arms, she'll likely swipe the rest of the WHAM ARMY from me and leave me out in the cold! I can't let it go any further!" He stopped to catch his breath.

Before he could say any more, Roman broke in: "Um…can I ask why you want a Herbert so badly? You have a Roman. And a Roman is way, WAY better than a Herbert. You traded up, if you ask me."

"I wouldn't trade you for Trubshaw," Snatcher assured him, though he still couldn't look Roman in the eye. "I no longer care for him. Nor would I trade you for anyone else. It's simply salt in the wound to look at her and KNOW…know she can simply ask for what I wanted and receive it for herself…"

Roman placed a hand on Snatcher's shoulder. "Archie, look at me."

With great difficulty, Snatcher forced himself to turn and meet Roman's gaze. His eyes seemed all the more strikingly green tonight, searching behind Snatcher's own eyes to delve into what was hidden within.

"Do you know why Boxboy Senior isn't with you right now?" Roman asked firmly.

"Presumably because he's heterosexual – "

"Well, pretend he isn't. Why wouldn't he be with you? Don't answer that. I'll tell you why. It's because he can't HANDLE you. You are an evil genius. You walk into the room and you have everyone's attention. You can talk your way into or out of anything. You could lie to me about anything and I wouldn't know. You're the one who led us all into the Sadida Kingdom in drag, and your plan actually accomplished what you set out to do, which is more than anyone can say for Corpsey or Skullface. You can do things in high heels that defy physics. Most importantly, you don't just let things slip away from you. You chase them at mach speed. When you want something, you don't give up until you have it or it's literally impossible to get. Any guy that has you has to be able to keep the fuck up. There's a certain bar set here, and Boxboy Senior didn't clear it because he's a sorry little wimp who doesn't know how to chase his dreams. If he were here right now instead of me, he probably would have packed up and left this castle with all the medallions in the hands of the chick whose neck we broke. Now, me? I like to think I actually fit the standard. But what happened with him has nothing to do with what you aren't and everything to do with what HE isn't."

"That's…" It wasn't that Snatcher couldn't find the words. It was that he had trouble deciding which of the many trains of thought that surged through his mind was the appropriate one to voice. "…quite eloquent for you, Torchwick."

"Yeah, well, give me credit. I know things." Roman shrugged. "As for Herb-al Tea, he's more our speed, but he doesn't clear your bar either when it comes down to it. Do you want the guy who hides behind you during a fight or the guy that runs in, gun blazing?"

"To be honest, Torchwick, sometimes I wish you would refrain from running into situations 'gun blazing,' as you put it. If you had more discretion about the battles you picked, you wouldn't end up with so many injuries that your Aura can't repair."

"You knew what you were signing up for when you teamed up with me," Roman reminded him. "I do what I want."

"I suppose I can't very well hold you back. You've a will of your own, and you adhere to it with an unbreakable bond."

"Did Boxboy Senior have that kind of conviction?"

"Not to your degree," Snatcher admitted.

"And more importantly, not to yours," Roman countered. "So if you think there was something you could have done or been to bag Boxboy Senior, ask yourself: was he really, REALLY worth it?"

"I already knew he wasn't," Snatcher argued. "But it's as you said. When I've my sights set on something…"

"Yeah, you might wanna forget about that one," Roman told him. "Why HAVE him when you could do BETTER than him and throw it in his face? Same thing with the white hat. Why would you want that anymore when we could potentially run over the entirety of Jerktown with a steamroller and build a throne out of what's left?"

"You're quite right," Snatcher admitted.

"Now, as for your second point," Roman went on. "That is to say Strawberry Punch taking over the team. It's YOUR team. I like her, and I want her in, but if you don't, just kick her out. You're the one calling the shots here. You should know, though, that I really don't think you have anything to worry about. You're a WHAM ARMY founder. You already have cred with us. She's a newbie. So's Herb-al Tea. The Smisses might be something to worry about, but Neo won't pick the Overkills over you. She's finally stopped trying to kill you, which means you passed the boyfriend test. You're her brother-in-law now. She's going to pick you every time."

"Reassuring," Snatcher replied, though he didn't sound convinced.

"The others back home DEFINITELY won't pick her over you," Roman went on. "Not after everything we've been through."

"I suppose."

He was waiting for something, Roman realized, something he had trouble voicing due to an influx of pride. There was only a brief moment of mental scrambling before Roman realized he knew exactly what he needed to reassure Snatcher of. "And if she'd run out of that bar all pissy tonight," Roman said, "I would've just let her go. That's Herb-al Tea's job, not mine. You, on the other hand, are my business. You're my partner in crime. Not her. Not him. I don't care how many memes he has up his sleeve. So, again, no. Strawberry Punch is not going to replace you. You can still have her kicked out if you really want to. We'd have to get that diamond and that emerald off her first, but – "

"No," Snatcher sighed. "No. Given the Overkills' skills and their rapport with Misters Smisse and Miss Neopolitan, it would hardly make sense to force them to depart. Though I was set on it not a moment ago. I shall simply have to grin and bear them. I'm well aware that you're fond of them as well."

"Yeah, well, I'm fonder of you. Deal with it." Roman shook his head. "If I'd have known about Boxboy Senior and all of that…"

"I want one thing very clear, Torchwick," Snatcher growled. "I want no pity because of any of this. What you know is now confidential knowledge, though after tonight, it seems unreasonable to ask you to keep it a secret permanently."

"Hey, I try!"

"I'm aware, Torchwick. Even if the world ends up knowing my biography thanks to you, I still want no pity out of you."

"I don't pity you one bit, so you're in luck." And yet Roman still felt as though he owed Snatcher something for the confidence that had been placed in him.

"I suppose we should return to the bar," Snatcher resolved, making as though to stand. "There is most likely damage control to be done."

Roman caught Snatcher's shoulder in a hand, pulling him back down into a sitting position. "They'll be fine," he assured. "They're all grown-ups. If you have to run any damage control, just do it tomorrow." He knew quite well that Snatcher didn't want to return to the Overkills' company one bit. "Besides, I was thinking we could have some fun."

"What did you have in mind?" Snatcher asked, though he already knew.

Roman leaned forward, taking Snatcher by surprise as he kissed his mouth gently. Roman's lips slid along Snatcher's face until they reached his ear, where he whispered, "You know, you really rock that dress. But I bet you'd look even better with it off."

"Torchwick," Snatcher warned, "I only JUST said I wanted no pity. This had better not be – "

"It's not. It's because you're sexy. Do I need a better reason?"

"You'd best let the others know not to expect us back, then."

Roman brought out his scroll, texting Neo quickly: "archie and i r goin to bed. c u tomorrow?"

In a few seconds, a response of "Goodnight idiot" flashed across the screen.

"We are good to go," Roman announced, setting the scroll on the night-table and turning back to face Snatcher.

They moved in for the kiss at the same time, locking together and refusing to part. They shifted, Snatcher moving atop Roman and pinning him down to the mattress. Roman squirmed slightly in pleasure, wrapping both arms around Snatcher to pull him closer.

...

Breathless and more than satisfied, Roman exited the bed only briefly to shut off the lights. He returned to the bed to worm under the blankets next to Snatcher, who was equally beyond content, equally out of breath. They curled into their default sleeping position, Snatcher spooning Roman from behind and draping an arm over him as they pressed close.

Roman lay awake as Snatcher began to drift out of consciousness; the former felt as though he still hadn't truly paid Snatcher back for having heard that much more of his past. Physical favors hadn't been the right route to go, as fulfilling as they'd been in other aspects. He needed to ante up something closer to the heart and he knew it.

The exact nature of what he owed struck him.

"Hey, Archie."

The response of "What is it, Torchwick?" was muffled by drowsiness.

"You awake?"

"I can't be asleep if I'm talking to you, Torchwick."

"Listen," Roman sighed. "You told me some STUFF tonight, and, well, I'm not exactly in the mood to tell you anything about my own past you don't already know. There is…something else about me you should probably know at this point, though."

"What is it?"

"My Semblance."

Snatcher was fully awake then. "I thought you'd been keeping that secret for good reason."

"Yeah, well, prepare for a letdown in that department. You seriously can't not know about it anymore at this point, though. I'm gonna have to make you swear to secrecy first."

"I won't tell a soul. …Does Miss Neopolitan know?"

"Yeah, but she's better at keeping my secrets than I am hers." Sixth and last time, he thought to himself. "So."

"Well?"
Roman inhaled deeply, readying himself. "I don't fucking know."

"How to begin?"

"No, Archie. I don't fucking know what my Semblance is."

Whatever Snatcher had expected, it wasn't that. "You…don't know."

"Yeah. That's why it's such a big secret. I wanted everybody to think I had this big important power up my sleeve. This card that would change the game. I have a blank card-sized piece of paper and that's it."

"But…you said Miss Salem only kept you in her ranks alive because of your Semblance."

"I bluffed to her, okay?" Roman confessed. "I'm a gambling man! I had her convinced that my Semblance was something that was going to help her win her war, and she let me off the hook way more than she would have otherwise. I let her believe I had some kind of…evil eye thing. I kind of just dropped vague comments and let her draw her own conclusion. And Fuckface, Mustache, Firebitch, and Dust Rage just went along with it. For all I know, I don't even have a Semblance. Or it's something stupid and weird, like being able to make my favorite song play on the radio. No, I don't know why that would be a Semblance; I just picked something stupid!" He realized he was becoming more fired up and resolved to calm down. "Anyway, now you know."

"I shall take the secret to my grave," Snatcher vowed. "I will say you seem to get along quite well without one, anyhow. I'm certain whatever it is, it isn't at all to sneeze at."

"How do you know?"

"Because a man like you wouldn't have a power that is less than extraordinary."

Now, Roman thought, they were even. "Well, I'm actually going to sleep now."

"As am I. Sleep well, Torchwick."

"Yeah, you do the same."

They both fell silent, eyes shut tight, and fell away into sleep as the sun began to crest the horizon.

...

Mozenrath wobbled as he stepped off the monorail, tripping and falling to his hands and knees.

"Are you okay?" a concerned civilian asked him, bending slightly over him.

"I am all right," Mozenrath said calmly. "I am just trying to get as far away from Ba Sing Se as I can. I do not need any help."

"Well, if you're sure." The civilian shrugged and left.

Mozenrath continued crawling through the crowd, making his way to the ferry station. His hypnosis was so strong, he didn't even notice when his own gauntlet slapped him in the face.

"THERE HE IS!" Ravess cried, bolting after Mozenrath at top speed with Aghoul and Ragdoll in tow. Aghoul edged in front and tackled Mozenrath, bowling him over to the ground. Before Mozenrath could protest, Aghoul charged his fingers up with magic, snapping them before Mozenrath's eyes.

"Snap out of it, will you?" Aghoul barked.

Mozenrath blinked rapidly as his pupils shrank to their normal size. "Aghoul," he seethed, "there had better be a good reason for this."

"You were hypnotized again," Aghoul explained, getting up off Mozenrath. "You had gotten yourself good and lost." He bent over to quickly pick up the gauntlet. "But we found you."

"And not a moment too soon," Ravess sighed.

"Does anyone else hear an infectiously catchy tune?" Ragdoll asked.

Ravess, Aghoul, and Mozenrath all became aware of the noise. From within Mozenrath's pocket, his scroll had been ringing ever since the search party had located him. Mozenrath fumbled for it, but Ravess swatted it out of his hand, giving him a sharp glare as she answered it. "Mozenrath's phone. Ravess speaking…Vexen?...Yes, I am aware. He was hypnotized and…What am I doing here? Well, I…What?...WHAT?...Well, EXCUSE me! I'M not the one who became captured by the enemy!...Yes, he's fine. We have him now and…YES, thanks to us! Do you have any idea what we've been through?...Well, I'll tell you!...Yes. We'll bring him…Well, we did a much better job at evading capture than YOU did, that's for sure!..." She put her hand over the scroll's mouthpiece, quickly telling the others, "We've got to bring him to the North Pole to find the Spirit Waters. I would guess one of the ferries running from this station can bring us there." She turned back to the scroll. "Yes, I just SUGGESTED that! Do you think I'm incompetent?...Certainly more than you!...I BEG to differ!..."

"She could be a while," Ragdoll remarked.

"Come on." Aghoul scooped Mozenrath up once more. "Let's find our boat."

...

Cruella de Vil sat at the table of the Villain's Vale dining room, sipping her tea and enjoying the solitude. Her moment was ruined in perhaps the most spectacular way possible when a pair of hyenas burst into the kitchen, yelping and snapping at Cruella.

"NO!" Cruella scrambled up onto the table, launching her teacup at the nose of one of the hyenas. "BACK! GET BACK, YOU WRETCHED, WRETCHED BEASTS! WHO LET YOU IN HERE? WHO IS RESPONSIBLE FOR YOU MONGRELS?"

"Awww," Harley moaned as she skipped into the room, "you don't like my babies?"

"These are YOUR vermin?" Cruella groaned.

"We prefer to think of them as family," the Joker commented as he followed Harley into the room.

"Well, call them off!" Cruella ordered, throwing her hands up into the air. "I can't stand the rotten creatures!"

The hyenas kept yelping as they scratched at the table's legs.

"I don't know about you, Harley," the Joker said, "but I'm having altogether too much fun watching this scene unfold."

"I say you can get to spend as much time as you need with our babies until you learn to love 'em!" Harley chirped.

"ENOUGH!"

At the declaration of the newcomer's voice, a bolt of lightning struck the ground and the entire dining room flashed in and out of darkness. Grimhilde, the one who had cried out, stormed into the room. "Call off your beasts," she demanded, glowering at Joker and Harley. "Immediately."

"And who says we have to do what you say?" the Joker retorted.

Harley, on the other hand, was already stroking the backs of both hyenas, muttering that they should calm down and back off. She led them away from Cruella, not wanting to risk Grimhilde's wrath.

"You two are wanted," Grimhilde said stonily. "Bring your beasts if you must."

"Oh, all right," the Joker groaned. "Killjoy."

He and Harley followed Grimhilde into the adjacent corridor, the hyenas trotting after. Cruella watched them depart, wondering briefly if she owed Grimhilde her actual thanks.

During the journey down the corridor, Grimhilde asked, "You two have a history with Archibald Snatcher and Roman Torchwick, do you not?"

"Those were the two that murdered my Puddin'!" Harley screeched. Then, remembering present company: "My last Puddin', that is."

"A tragedy indeed," the Joker said, "but you can't tell me you're not better off."

"The point remains," Grimhilde stated. "You have a history with those allies of Mozenrath. My scrying has revealed to me that those two in particular have assembled a small team in order to seek treasures on a world previously thought insignificant. This offers us an opportunity in multiple respects. I have sought out the location of the next item they pursue, and it would be far more valuable in our hands than in theirs. But furthermore, this separation may be our chance to chip away at Mozenrath's foundations by removing his weaker subordinates from play."

"So you want us to go down to the world they're on, swipe their treasure from 'em, and pick 'em off!" Harley exclaimed, rather excited by the prospect.

"Oh, goody!" the Joker added. "I was so hoping for round two against them."

"They have numbers on their side," Grimhilde warned. "Most are weak, but they have added a skilled fighter and an inventor to their ranks only moments ago. Then again, you are both quite skilled yourselves. They should give you little trouble. All the same, we are dispatching you with a new ally."

"A new ally?" Joker repeated, highly skeptical.

"An apparent friend of Ursula's," Grimhilde clarified. "She insisted upon bringing him into the fold. She has more faith in him than most of us do. His magical skills are limited compared to most of our own, but they should be sufficient for this mission. She should be in the process of adjusting his form now."

"Adjustin' his form?" Harley repeated.

"As he is, he will stand out if sent to the world we intend," Grimhilde said cryptically.

She brought Joker, Harley, and the hyenas to the room where Ursula kept her cauldron, which at the moment was bubbling brilliant neon blue. Ursula stood on one side, while at the other sat a lion with a deep brown coat and a raven-black mane; his face was distinguished by the scar marking his left eye.

When he saw the hyenas, he quickly backed up against the wall. A distinct "No…NO! NOT THE HYENAS!" was heard escaping his mouth.

"It talks!" Harley gasped.

"HE talks, angelfish," Ursula corrected. "No need to be rude." She then looked at the lion; "Scared of a few hyenas, are we?"

The lion forced a cool exterior to cover his racing heart rate. "No," he said snidely. "Of course not."

"This is your new ally," Grimhilde introduced. "His name is Scar."

"How creative," the Joker snorted.

"You're going to be working with the Joker and Harley Quinn," Ursula informed Scar.

"From what little I know of your customs," Scar said casually, "your names are hardly any more creative than mine."

"I don't like him," Harley huffed.

"Well, too bad," Ursula told her. "Because you're all going to be working together to land our prize catch, so you'd better start making nice."

"Don't make me regret following up on our alliance, Ursula," Scar droned.

"You won't, lionfish," Ursula promised. "Once you've been brought into the fold, you'll get your piece."

"You now see why his form must be adjusted," Grimhilde commented.

"Aw, we can't even say we're workin' with a talking lion?" Harley groaned. "That woulda been fun!"

"Tell me they aren't going to bring those…beasts," Scar huffed.

"You're one to talk," Joker observed.

"I ain't leavin' our babies behind!" Harley insisted. "Cruella and Medusa are just gonna try and make 'em into their new fall line!"

"If you must," Scar grumbled, none too happy about the arrangement.

"Time's running out, lionfish," Ursula reminded him.

"So it is," Scar remarked. "As I understand it, there's usually a price."

"Well, you qualify for the friends and family discount," Ursula told him. "No charge."

"Then let's get it over with," Scar ordered.

Grimhilde discreetly shut the door as Ursula reached for the final bottle needed to complete her concoction. The virulent green liquid splashed into the blue pool, turning the entire batch turquoise. The room itself was completely dark but for the light emanating from the cauldron.

Ursula began to chant, and as she did so, the cauldron's bubbling became more and more violent. Plumes of smoke rose into the air, fogging up the visibility in the room. Harley clutched at Joker, who roughly shoved her away. Grimhilde watched stone-still.

Scar was surrounded in a bubble of magic; he writhed within it as his entire body morphed, growing longer and thicker, hind limbs stretching, forelimbs shortening. Ursula couldn't help but laugh proudly.

The bubble burst. Where Scar the lion had stood, there was now a human male, unclothed, distinguished by the marking that still crossed his left eye. Scar stumbled a bit on his new legs before regaining his balance.

The smoke subsided. The turquoise light faded. Grimhilde eased the door open to let some light into the room.

"What do you think, lionfish?" Ursula asked.

"It will take getting used to," Scar answered.

"For goodness' sake," the Joker groaned, "put on some pants!"

"You will need clothing and weaponry," Grimhilde stated. "Then you shall depart."

"A word to the wise," Joker told Scar. "Don't cross me."

"I wouldn't dream of it," Scar said sarcastically.

"Then we'll get along just fine," Joker replied, equally sarcastically.

"Just so long as Roman Torchwick pays for what he did," Harley growled. "And is he ever gonna pay!"