53. Let's Groove
A/N: Trigger warning for domestic abuse. And, just to be safe, one for discussion of suicide.
...
"Run! RUN AWAY!"
That was the cry that heralded as Demyx skidded into the control room of the Cyclonian warship. He would have kept on running if he'd had any idea which way led to where. As it were, he stood in the middle of the room, taking a good look around. "Whoa. Creepy architecture."
The Huntsman, Mozenrath, Wuya, Aghoul, Mim, Xayide, Vexen, Ravess, and Ragdoll spilled out after him; Mim sealed the Corridor with a flourish.
Snatcher, having exchanged his gown for his coat and trousers, strode past the room, leading and scolding a sheepish Rémington. "And I expect you not to pull a stunt like that again," he stated. "Or it won't be MY wrath you'll have to face. It'll be hers."
"And I don't want that," Rémington agreed.
The pair noticed the sudden arrival of the group, diverting their course to enter the room. "You've returned!" Snatcher greeted.
"And you brought another new friend," Rémington noted, eyeing up Demyx.
"Well?" Snatcher asked. "Were you successful?"
"The Spirit Waters restored my entire memory," Mozenrath related, "and their leftovers are just what we need to complete the water portion of our spell. I'd call that a pretty good result."
"Indubidably!" Snatcher nodded. He then fully realized that Mozenrath was being carried by the Huntsman at that moment. "Though your current position suggests your success didn't come without…pitfalls."
"Our date night could have gone better," Mozenrath admitted.
"Date night?" Snatcher and Rémington repeated in awe.
Before Mozenrath could say more, he was set roughly upon the ground. The Huntsman was walking away without a word.
"WHERE are you going?" Mozenrath yelled.
"I wish to be alone," the Huntsman growled.
"What's got into him, then?" Snatcher asked.
"Hopefully, some sense," Vexen sniffed.
"So you two are a thing?" Rémington asked.
"More or less, yes," Mozenrath answered, a great wide smile overtaking his face unbidden.
"So your mission went off without a hitch, then!" Snatcher said with a grin.
"WITHOUT A HITCH?" Wuya, Mim, and Xayide grumped at the same time.
"We were tricked into selling our souls!" Mim snarled.
"We became the playthings of one of Maleficent's minions!" Wuya added.
"We were rescued by our other nemeses in a humiliating manner," Xayide hissed.
"Other nemeses?" Rémington asked.
"The boy with the great key," Snatcher realized.
"And let's not forget that I did ALMOST die," Mozenrath chimed in, though with considerably less vitriol.
"Not to mention that Vexen won't stop criticizing the rescue party that had to stop Mozenrath from becoming hypnotized," Ravess grumbled.
"Because said party deserves criticism!" Vexen snapped.
"Mozenrath is technically still susceptible to hypnotism," Aghoul pointed out. "That's going to come around to bite us eventually."
"I didn't even want to be here!" Demyx groaned. "I wanted to just fly under the radar for the rest of my life! But apparently you guys NEED a thief and a healer!"
"Well, I had a good time," Ragdoll said with an ear-to-ear smile.
"OF COURSE YOU DID," everyone else snapped at him.
"You better not have had a better time than us!" Mim growled. "You'd better have suffered every bit as much as we did!"
"We stole a magic rock," Rémington said slyly, "as well as four crown jewels. We made two new friends who we adopted as siblings and had a great night out dancing. It sounds like we had a MUCH better time than you did."
"WHY YOUUUUU…" Mim rolled up her short sleeves. "I'LL KILL YOU FOR THIS!"
"Go ahead," Rémington challenged. "You'll have to catch me first."
He spun on a heel and bolted. Mim shifted into the body of a cheetah, pouncing after him. Rémington withdrew a gun and fired it wildly behind him; Mim deflected every shot in a burst of sparks. The sounds of feline growling and gunshots faded as they got further down the hall.
"Okay, should you guys be worried about this?" Demyx asked.
"No," Mozenrath informed him. "I think for those two, that's just what most normal people would call 'foreplay.'"
"Starting to regret this," Demyx muttered.
"Can someone just get me down to the medical bay?" Mozenrath grumbled. "This is humiliating, and it still HURTS."
"Hardly a day goes by when I don't have to patch your broken limbs," Vexen sighed.
"Speaking of," Wuya brought up, "how's Roman?"
"Fortunately unharmed," Snatcher told her. "I do believe Lord Mozenrath coming home worse off than him is becoming the norm, and I'm not about to complain."
"For the record, I'm complaining LOUDLY," Mozenrath groaned. "Still, it's good to finally be back."
...
Katara, Aang, Zuko, Sora, Ruby, Papyrus, Jasmine, and Stork had returned to the Fire Nation Capital after discovering the slain body of Ran, but not before holding a funeral in the dragon's honor. The Sun Warriors had vowed never to tarnish Ran's memory, and to nurse his and Shaw's egg while protecting it with their lives.
From there, it was a waiting game. The young heroes were patient for a whole day, keeping watch to see if Ozai, Zhao, Facilier, or Mozenrath would return. But none did; there wasn't even any sign of Azula.
"I dunno," Sora said after the sun began to descend. "I'm starting to think we chased them off for good."
"Mozenrath and his friends probably did make it to another world by now," Ruby added.
"ISN'T THIS THE SECOND TIME THEY'VE HAD TO CARRY MOZENRATH OFF THE BATTLEFIELD?" Papyrus pointed out. "HE IS REALLY NOT DOING SO WELL."
"If he's gone," Jasmine stated, "we have to follow him."
"IF WE'RE SURE EVERYTHING IS FINE HERE," Papyrus insisted.
"Everything's seemed okay so far," Zuko stated. "That doesn't mean we can let our guard down, but if you need to go, we can handle things here."
"Besides," Sora said, "it's not even Mozenrath we need to follow. We promised Ruby we'd help her find Cinder, remember?"
"I wish we COULD go with you," Aang sighed. "Seeing new worlds sounds like a lot of fun! And I think we're pretty good friends! But now more than ever, this world needs the Avatar."
"And the Fire Lord," Zuko nodded.
"Now, wait a minute!" Katara argued. "All of those people – the ones who attacked the capital AND the ones who killed Ran – came from other worlds! The threat isn't here! It's out there, and we need to go stop it!"
"But what if they do come back?" Aang worried. "We need to stay here."
"We will miss you," Jasmine stated.
"You'll always be our pals!" Sora said with a nod.
"But if you have to protect this world, then that's just what you have to do," Ruby said decisively.
"There…is something that occurred to me," Zuko realized. "But I don't think you'll like it."
"What?" Aang and Katara asked as one.
"The capital needs its Fire Lord to help pick up the pieces and reassure the people," Zuko reiterated. "Not to mention that I'm the ruler of the Sun Warriors by a technicality, and they need my support too, even if it can't be public. Aang is the Avatar. The one who saved us all in the past and the one who keeps the balance. It wouldn't be smart for him to leave, especially when there could be more threats on their way in. He's the most powerful of all of us. But Katara isn't as politically relevant to the Fire Nation. We could protect it without her if we wanted. Katara, if you want to follow the others to try and find the people who attacked us, you could go. But it would mean you and Aang would have to split up, and I know you're not going to like that."
Katara and Aang exchanged a look.
"I know you want to go," Aang said plainly. "You want to see what's out there and try and help from the other side."
"I just feel like that's the most productive way to go about this," Katara said. "Even following Ruby's enemy. It could be linked to what happened to us. But I would have to leave you. I don't WANT to leave you."
"I don't really want you to leave either," Aang admitted. "But…if I can't go on their adventure to see what else is out there, somebody should have that chance. It's going to be a once-in-a-lifetime thing. And if you want to go, I can't think of anybody I'd want to be able to experience it more." He gave Katara a smile. "I'll think about you every day, and we'll be together again. I know it. But that's only if you want to go."
"I do," Katara sighed. "Leaving you would be the only thing stopping me. But I do think at least one of us needs to investigate the rest of this. I think…I have to do this." She turned to the five outworlders. "If you'll have me."
"We'd LOVE if you came along!" Sora emphasized.
"THE MORE, THE MERRIER!" Papyrus insisted.
Stork, Ruby, and Jasmine punctuated this with nods of enthusiasm.
"You'll get along great with the others!" Sora added.
"The others?" Katara repeated.
"We've got a whole group building back at Radiant Garden," Sora told her. "We're all fighting the same enemies together. They'll love you. Trust me."
Katara nodded. "I will." She turned to Aang. "I…guess this is goodbye. But not forever. I'll be back. I promise. And I'll think of you all the time."
"Just have fun," Aang told her.
"I will," Katara said with a smile.
They closed the distance between each other, pressing lip to lip in a kiss of farewell. Zuko averted his eyes, turning slightly red. Sora, Ruby, and Papyrus gave a loud "AAAWWWW!" Jasmine simply smiled while Stork rolled his eyes, pretending he didn't find the scene cute in the slightest.
It took some time for Katara and Aang to part. Sora and Jasmine were reminded of Riku and Aladdin, respectively, and how much time they'd spent apart from them; some catching up would have to be done upon the return to Radiant Garden, provided they hadn't all missed each other's coming and going like ships in the night.
Katara then flung her arms around Zuko. "I'm gonna miss you too," she said rather playfully. "Believe it or not."
Zuko was stunned for a moment before gently embracing his friend. "Take care of yourself."
When Katara backed off, she told Aang and Zuko, "You two take care of each other."
"We will!" Aang and Zuko said in unison, giving each other an amicable smile.
Katara turned back to the outworlders. "So," she asked, "where to first? Radiant Garden?"
"You know it!" Sora replied.
...
Herb's prediction had been right: the hypnotism had worn off the police surrounding Blackmoor Manor at the exact moment that Harley and Scar had come bearing Joker out the front door, Bud and Lou in tow. Even with Joker wounded, the fight the trio had on their hands was not stacked against them. They left the police the worse off before boarding the ship they had parked some distance away.
The ride home was tense. Partly because no matter how many times Harley asked anxiously if Joker was all right, he refused to answer. Partly because Scar rode curled up in his seat, hounded by Bud and Lou, hoping they wouldn't give him any more beauty marks.
Upon return to Villain's Vale, Joker and Scar were given over to Grimhilde and Ursula: Joker to be repaired and Scar to be given back his feline body. Harley was shooed away from both procedures, and she scurried away to the room she shared with Joker, not even bothering to pay attention to the goings-on elsewhere in the castle – something to do with a Shadow Man and an admiral who had gained an audience with Maleficent.
Once alone in her and Joker's quarters, Harley paced the length of the room nervously, then paced the perimeter, then sat down on a couch and let her stomach boil. He would be fine. He had to be fine. She couldn't bear if he wasn't. She had finally let go of that other man, the one who was him but not, and her heart was given over, she realized.
She loved him.
And she didn't want to continue without him.
The wait drained. Harley reminded herself that Grimhilde and Ursula were both accomplished witches and therefore accomplished healers; she repeated it to herself over and over mentally so it would sink in. She lay across the length of the couch, unable to support any part of her body upright. Of course Joker wouldn't die, she knew, but what if the attacks left him severely disabled? What if he would never be able to walk on his injured leg again? What if –
The door creaked.
Harley was suddenly filled with the energy to sit bolt upright. Joker was entering the room, looking healthy as he'd ever been.
"Mr. J!" Harley rushed to him, arms stretched outward. "I've been so worried, ya don't even know – "
He put out a single arm, pressing it against her upper chest, holding her back from being able to embrace him. "You worry too much, Harley," he said calmly, looking her in the eye.
Something in his gaze was off kilter, Harley observed. She let her arms drop to her sides. He wanted something out of her, and she was desperate to know what it was, how she could fix whatever ailed him.
"In fact," Joker continued, "I'd venture to say worrying might be a personal weakness of yours. Worrying about all the wrong things and all the wrong people."
Harley's heart dropped into her stomach. Did he suspect?
"Didn't you find it a little odd that the manor was completely vacated?" he went on. "Almost as if the people inside had some sort of…advance warning that there would be an attack on their home later that night. But that couldn't be possible, could it, Harley? Because the only ones who knew about that were the three of us. And we never took our eyes off each other. Well, except for when I was out stealing that ice cream truck you so badly insisted upon. I didn't even want an ice cream truck, but it was ever so important to you. I do hope you didn't repay what I did for you by ratting me out to the people who lived in that manor so they would have time to pack up and get away."
"I didn't!" Harley said nervously. "I…I wouldn't! You think I'd ruin our chance like that?"
"Odd, then," Joker went on, "that when we exited the manor, we were completely SURROUNDED BY COPS. Now, if the family HAD been given an advance warning, they would surely have run to the police after evacuating, sending them to their home to arrest the people who had made an attempt to rob them. But that would have been utterly impossible, wouldn't it, Harley?"
"That Scar fella mighta done it," she argued. "Where was HE when you were takin' the truck, huh?"
"Where, indeed," Joker mused. "It could very well have been him. After all, he could have been nothing but talk with a soft heart beneath. And he isn't as close to us as each other is. We are so close, Harley, you and I. I would hate for there to be any secrets between the two of us. If you're lying to me, I want to know now. After all, what is our partnership without trust?"
"I dunno," Harley replied, a sudden steel hardening in her voice. "Why didn't you trust me with knowin' that you set that gas bomb up so they'd die instead of just gettin' knocked out?"
"What did that matter to you, Harley?" Joker growled. "Why would that matter even one tiny little BIT?"
"They were innocent," Harley said softly, her voice shrinking to a whisper. "They didn't do anythin' to deserve…I…" He was right. There could be no secrets. No lies. "I didn't want 'em to die like that…not when they didn't do nothin' to us…"
"So you DID warn them." His voice was feral. His hands moved to grip her shoulders roughly.
"It ain't like it made a difference!" Harley said with renewed vigor. "We lost because of the WHAM ARMY, not the cops!"
"You went behind my back, Harley," Joker snarled. "Do you know just how disrespectful that is? How absolutely VILE of you?"
"It didn't make a difference!"
"You still LIED to me!" He shook her to punctuate this statement. "All so you could be noble Saint Harley, protector of the innocent! I thought you were different. But all you Harleys are the same!"
"I ain't the same as – "
"QUIET!" Joker growled. He shoved her hard; she crashed to the floor, feeling bruises already forming. "Saint Harley," he repeated. "If you want to be a martyr so badly, then would you take punishment so they didn't have to?"
"Mr. J…" Harley said desperately. "What're you sayin'? We're partners!"
"Partners don't betray each other, Harley," Joker replied. "And turnabout is fair play. You double-cross me…I get to double-cross you for a moment."
"Please…" She could sense what he was going to do. She crawled backward, away from him, looking around him at the door. Should she try to make a run for it? Should she try to reason with him? "Don't do what you're thinkin'. We can talk this out!"
"The time for talking is over, Harley," Joker stated. "You should have thought about it long and hard before you went ahead and warned them."
He advanced, and she braced herself.
...
Roman Torchwick had fun making every landing from the rollercoaster into the laboratory more dramatic and graceful than the last. It was really a pity, he thought, that no one had been watching when he made his most recent pose.
As he proceeded into the lab, he very nearly trod on a small, dark shape shuffling its way across the floor. Looking down, he was greeted with the sight of a deep purple armadillo.
"I'm walkin' here!" the armadillo grumped in a familiar voice.
"SNIPE?" Roman said in awe.
"Who else would I be?" Snipe grumbled up at him.
Roman was at a loss for words. He simply collapsed into laughter.
"Hey, what's so funny?" Snipe asked.
"You…you do know you're an armadillo, right?" Roman guffawed.
"Armadillo?" Snipe repeated. "I knew you were bad at insults, but that's a new one. I don't even get it."
Snipe shuffled his way out of the lab in his much smaller body without noticing a thing; Roman's laughter carried him all the way in to where Herb was setting up on a table some distance away from Yzma's – occupied by Yzma and Zevon, who were cackling madly – and Vexen's, which was bereft of human life, as Vexen was preoccupied in the medical bay. Rémington leaned against the wall, twirling a pistol.
"Looks like I found the party!" Roman announced. "What brings you all the way down here, Rémy?"
"Just a little game of hide and seek with Mimsie," Rémington lied. He had his eye on Herb's lab table.
"So?" Roman sidled up to Herb. "Settling in?"
"I think this is gonna work great!" Herb gushed. "Lots of space, all the right equipment…I could build all kinds of stuff in here!" He spread out a wealth of blueprints on the table.
"Your old designs?" Roman asked.
"Yeah," Herb replied. "I like to keep them for posterity, but I'm looking at bigger and better."
"Well, we really didn't have a tech guy," Roman informed him. "Unless you count me and Gar, which it's better not to."
"Trust me, we are in dire need of such skills," Yzma said from across the room.
As Roman and Herb looked to her and Zevon, Rémington took advantage of the opportunity to slip one of Herb's blueprints into his possession, hiding it beneath what remained of his cape.
"Hey, yeah, I've been meaning to talk to you two," Roman told them. "So this whole time, you've had a secret son you've been hiding from us. Is he some kind of evil genius?"
"Only the most intellectigent of the intelligencuals!" Zevon insisted.
"I…I'm just gonna leave that alone," Roman resolved. "Anyway, welcome to the team, kid."
"I'm not a kid!" Zevon snapped. "You hardly look older than me!"
"Yeah, yeah, kid," Roman said with a dismissive wave. "You're the son of one of our founding WHAMMERs, which makes you the team baby."
"Speaking of which," Mozenrath said as he strode forth from the medical bay, Vexen looming behind, "I'm twenty-five."
"Eh, I was close," Yzma said with a shrug. She then shook her head; "Wait. You REMEMBER how old you are?"
"I remember everything," Mozenrath told her. "Something in those Spirit Waters put everything back where it belonged."
"WONDERFUL!" Yzma cried. "This will save us having to recap a lot of things."
"That it will," Mozenrath agreed. "Between this and being our water element, those Spirit Waters ended up being more than worth the trouble."
"Speaking of the elements," Vexen brought up, "while waiting for Mozenrath's repair procedures to take effect, I completed my analysis of the meteorite brought home by Mr. Snatcher and company, and I have made a discovery of note."
"Ohhhhh?" Roman replied.
"The meteorite's origin is from deep within interspace," Vexen explained. "It contains mild spacebending properties and qualities not unlike the Gummi substance. It must have fallen onto the world you were investigating by pure chance. It should suffice as our concentrated space element."
"Well, how about that!" Roman said, quite pleased with himself.
"You brought back an element," Mozenrath stated, "and we brought back an element. I believe that leaves three. Very well done, Torchwick."
"I couldn't have done it without Archie," Roman replied. Then, jokingly: "The others were optional."
"And I admittedly couldn't have gotten my hands on the waters without Vexen's old co-worker," Mozenrath admitted. "Unfortunately."
"Yeah, what's the deal on that guy?" Roman asked.
"He's an expert thief," Mozenrath related. "Résumé includes looting Mount Olympus. He also has more raw magical power than you'd expect. Can do some noteworthy things with water. He's also the most insufferable person I've met to date, and I already loathe working with him."
Roman latched onto two words: "Expert thief? He can't be better than me."
"Have you ever stolen from a god?" Mozenrath asked Roman with a raised brow.
"Just because I haven't doesn't mean I couldn't," Roman insisted. "Point me in the direction of a god and I'll show you what I'm made of."
"Why do I get the feeling he's all talk?" Zevon mocked.
"Hey, kid," Roman snapped, "respect your elders."
"Elders?" Zevon gestured to Mozenrath. "He just said he's twenty-five! He IS younger than me!"
"You still answer up to me," Mozenrath reminded Zevon.
"And YOU are going to be nice to my son," Yzma growled.
"From what my mother has told me," Zevon stated, "it sounds like you and I are kindredful spirits, Mozenrath."
"How so?" Mozenrath asked.
"Thirsty for power," Zevon rattled off. "Always on the lookout for powerful magical artifactions. Brilliantelligent minds. I actually look forward to taking over the worlds with you."
"Well," Mozenrath told Zevon, "assuming you prove yourself – "
Yzma cleared her throat loudly and fixed Mozenrath with a deadly glare.
Mozenrath realized he respected Yzma too much to taunt her kin. "Actually, proof is relative," he said with a shrug. "If Yzma believes you have what it takes, so do I. I look forward to working with you too."
"There's just one order of business left surrounding this," Roman said with a sly grin. "Yzma, you're a MOM. You know what that makes you?"
"No?" Yzma said tentatively.
"Yz-mom," Roman told her. "From now on, you're Yz-mom."
"WHAT?" Yzma spat. "No! NO! You can't! Roman, I'm begging you! Go back to 'Lavender'! Or remember the days when I was 'Fluffy'? Those were good days!"
"Nope," Roman told her. "Yz-mom it is."
Mozenrath couldn't stifle his laugh.
Yzma's expression turned sour. "Fine. Have your fun. You'll get tired of that nickname."
"I think you should be proud to call yourself my mother!" Zevon insisted.
"Well, I do have a son with good taste," Yzma admitted.
"And maybe this means you'll stop acting like MY mother and pay attention to your actual offspring," Mozenrath added.
"I have NEVER acted like your mother!" Yzma argued.
"Waaaiiiit," Roman suddenly realized. "Yz-mom, were you projecting your maternal instincts onto Mozenrath because you already knew you fucked up with your actual kid?"
That brought a silence over the room.
"Talk about armor-piercing questions," Herb broke in.
"Whyyyyy, th-th-that's just s-silly!" Yzma sputtered. "I never cared about Zevon until now! I certainly NEVER projected anything onto Mozenrath!"
"Let's just…let that sleeping Cerberus lie," Mozenrath suggested. "It's not like I ever wanted or needed a mother."
Yzma was thankful that Roman didn't know anything of Aaliyah, or he would have driven right for that destination.
"I just want my like-minded friends," Mozenrath went on. "And I have that. End of discussion."
"If no one has any more need of me," Vexen broke in, "I am going to return to my work." He took a seat at his table, pulling a notepad and a beaker toward himself.
"Yo, Iceman," Roman called out. "Forgetting something? I need my space rock back."
"We can put it with the other elements," Mozenrath resolved. A shiver ran down his spine when he thought of how close he was to reaching the goal he'd set out to accomplish.
Vexen begrudgingly held out the meteorite. Roman reached for it, then backed off. "Righty? You want the honors?"
Mozenrath swiped the meteorite. "Perfect," he muttered with a smile as he observed it lying on his open palm. He then looked up at Roman; "I overheard a bit of Mr. Overkill's introduction to Yzma as he moved in. Apparently you also picked up a master criminal."
"Strawberry Punch!" Roman identified. "I think you'll like her."
"I want to meet her," Mozenrath resolved.
"So do I, in fact," Yzma said. "I have a feeling she and I will get along just swimmingly!"
"You both have the diva factor," Herb informed Yzma as Rémington, stuffing the last of Herb's blueprints into his clothing, slunk from the lab. "I'm guessing you're gonna be besties."
"Yzma?" Mozenrath suggested. "Shall we?"
Yzma turned to Zevon. "Well?"
"I'd actually like to continue conversationalizing with Herb," Zevon admitted. "I want to know more about his sciencific creations."
"And I'm mad curious about your alchemy," Herb told Zevon.
"We'll let this match made in Elysium play out here," Mozenrath told Yzma, "while we go find and interrogate his better half."
Yzma left her table to join Mozenrath on the walk out of the lab. "Sounds like a plan to me!"
Roman fell in step next to them. "You two go on ahead," he encouraged. "I'm going to track down something edible."
When they left the laboratory area, Yzma and Mozenrath went one way while Roman went another. Roman ended up in the kitchen, lighting himself a quick cigarette while making a sandwich and finishing the smoke off before wolfing the food down.
Neo breezed into the kitchen, pouring herself a glass of juice from the refrigerator.
"Hey, Neo," Roman greeted.
Neo gave him a nod, searching through the cabinets to find ingredients for her own lunch.
"If you're thinking PB&J," Roman warned her, "there is not a lick of peanut butter to be found in the place."
Neo gave a sigh. She settled for a sandwich made of a sliced deli meat carved from a bird native to Atmos, with pickles as a garnish. As she sat down to eat, she lightly shoved Roman's stomach with her elbow.
"Still mad at me?" Roman asked.
Neo held up a hand and waggled it; she was somewhat miffed, but not fully.
"I'm sorry, okay?" Roman groaned. "It's not like I just walk around everywhere yelling, 'HEY, EVERYONE, NEO'S TR – '"
That was when Demyx and Garfield entered the same kitchen.
" – IFFIC!" Roman finished off hurriedly. He had vowed the sixth time would be the last time he outed Neo, and he meant to stick to it. "Have I ever told you guys how terrific Neo is?"
Neo wondered whether she should give Roman a pass for that save. In the end, she admired his intentions, and flashed him a thumbs-up.
"Yeah," Garfield confirmed. "You have warned me SEVERAL times not to get in her way."
"Should I be scared of her?" Demyx asked in a nervous voice.
Neo fixed her eyes upon Demyx's, smiled, and nodded.
Demyx flinched, backing up a pace.
"So you're the new guy, huh?" Roman greeted. "Dishwater?"
"Demyx," Demyx corrected. Then, realizing what he'd done: "No, wait! My REAL name is – "
"It's Dishwater," Roman insisted. "Righty tells me you're some kind of master thief."
"We were just talking about that," Garfield informed Roman, "and I was saying there's no way he's better than me at nicking stuff."
"Yeah-huh!" Demyx insisted. "I stole from MOUNT OLYMPUS! Do you know how big of a deal that is?"
"I helped organize a breakout from the Underworld," Roman argued.
"Not a theft," Demyx snapped.
"The way I see it, there's only one way to settle this," Garfield resolved. "We each pick something hard to steal, we all go for it, and we see who ended up with what at the end."
"Sounds good to me," Roman said with a nod. "Meet in the karaoke room to compare spoils?"
"Sounds like more work than I wanted," Demyx sighed, "but I'm in."
"Neo?" Roman asked.
Neo shook her head, waving her hand to indicate the three men should settle this debate among themselves and not involve her.
"Dibs on Eyeliner's eyeliner," Roman called. "I'm going to use it on my own face and see if she notices."
"I'm taking something off Iceman's table," Garfield boasted. "While he's using it."
"I dunno," Demyx asked. "What should I go for? Hit me with something impossible. I know you want me to lose."
"All right," Roman told him. "You asked for it. You're taking Righty's gauntlet."
"I gotcha," Demyx said with a nod.
"On three, we break," Roman stated. "One…"
"Two…" Garfield picked up.
"Three!" Demyx chimed in.
The three thieves parted ways, and Neo considered what kind of a chance Roman stood as she chewed on her sandwich. Despite the odds, she had faith in him.
...
The Gummi ship containing Sora, Ruby, Papyrus, Stork, Jasmine, and Katara sailed through interspace, bringing its passengers back to home base. Sora, Jasmine, Papyrus, and Ruby spoke of the wonders of Radiant Garden and the friends Katara would make while she was there.
At some point, Katara figured out who wasn't talking. "Hey," she called up to the driver's seat. "Stork? You haven't said anything since we took off. Is everything okay?"
"Everything's fine," Stork said in a halfhearted tone. "Just…haven't had much to add."
Everyone could sense there was something he wasn't saying. "Are you sure?" Katara pressed. "Because I feel like something's…wrong."
"You can talk to us about anything," Jasmine assured him.
"Unless you really do just want to be left alone," Katara said quickly.
Jasmine nodded. "Only if you're comfortable. But if you need to talk, we're here."
A heavy silence hung over the ship's interior. Then, at last, Stork admitted, "There's…something I think I need to say. Ever since before the invasion of the Fire Nation Capital. When…Ruby was talking about being the biggest hypocrite for leaving her own family after we got mad at Sora for leaving his." He inhaled deeply, slowly. "She's…not the biggest hypocrite here."
"But you didn't leave your family," Ruby pointed out.
"Not my birth family," Stork said, his voice cracking. "But…the Storm Hawks became my second family. Aerrow even said as much during our home movie night. That's what we meant to each other. And I…almost…" His voice broke completely: "…abandoned them…"
"IT CAN'T BE AS BAD AS YOU THINK IT IS," Papyrus tried to reassure. "WE KNOW YOU! IF YOU RAN AWAY FROM THEM FOR A WHILE, I'M SURE YOU HAD AN EXCELLENT REASON – "
"I didn't RUN AWAY!" Stork yelled. "I tried to…I TRIED to…" He gave a small gasp.
"Stork…?" Jasmine said in concern.
"Do you remember," Stork asked in a low tone, "how you met me?"
Jasmine and Katara shrugged at each other, neither having been there.
"Yeah," Sora said casually. "You were about to jump off the edge of the Terra, but we swooped in and saved you!"
"OH, NO," Papyrus realized. "STORK…YOU DON'T MEAN…"
"Cyclonis had a squad called the Raptors," Stork began to explain. "They were hired to blow up the Condor while we were in it, but they were stupid, and they just blew up the ship when we outside of it. All of us were okay. Physically. But losing that ship…it was the first time, for me. That ship was the only thing that got me through those ten years after I lost my birth family. That ship was my home. That ship meant EVERYTHING to me. I thought without it, I had nothing to live for.
"We all got split up after that. We agreed to meet up at a rendez-vous point. I never planned to make it there. I ended up on Terra Bogaton, home of the Raptors. I hunted down every single one of them, and I…well…this is probably the part where you hate me. I made sure none of them would ever destroy anything meaningful again. Permanently."
"You killed them all," Ruby said in a loud whisper.
"When I challenged their leader, Repton," Stork went on, "I told him the truth. That without the Condor, I didn't see any reason to go on. The only thing I wanted to do was bring him down with me. We fought, and he said I could just rebuild the ship. And that whole time, that just never occurred to me. I started to see a new possibility. A new reason to live. I tried to save Repton, but he went over the edge of his Terra. Then I went back to the others. But I never told them. I never told them that the whole time they were there, waiting for me, I was just going to let them keep on waiting until they found out…I don't even know how they would have found out. I didn't even think about them or that they'd be waiting for me. But when I showed up, they were all so worried about me, and I just couldn't tell them the truth!
"So, no. Ruby, you're fine. You left your family behind so you could protect them. And Sora, you're fine. You always meant to come back to your parents someday. But I almost left my entire family forever and let them wonder what happened to me. And I got a lot of blood on my hands in the process. No one innocent…" His thoughts wandered to Lugey. "No one TECHNICALLY innocent…but I still killed them. And to this day, Finn and the others don't know the truth." He exhaled deeply. "Now you do. And if you don't want me around anymore because of everything I did, then I completely get it. But if you do…I kept thinking about how Jasmine's mother left her, and I never want to do that to you. I never want to do that to anyone. Not again."
A long silence indicated Stork had finished speaking.
"WE DON'T HATE YOU," Papyrus replied to break it. "WE COULDN'T HATE YOU."
"You're our friend," Sora said reassuringly. "I've had a couple friends who did horrible things when they fell to the Darkness. But I know that doesn't make up who they are. About you killing everybody? I kinda figured you might've done something like that in the past. And I've killed people, too. People who were hurting other people and ruining the worlds. That's what the Raptors were doing."
"There was one," Stork said in a trembling voice. "He was just going along with what the others said. He wasn't as bad. But I still…I still…" He choked on his words. "Never…again. Not anyone who doesn't deserve it."
"I believe you," Ruby told him.
"But the others," Stork insisted. "They had already killed so many and ruined so many lives. They were going to help Cyclonia retake Atmos and destroy it."
"And that's what counts," Sora told him. "But even if there was one who didn't deserve what happened…well…we know you. We trust you."
"And we love you," Ruby added.
"YOU'RE A VERY GOOD PERSON," Papyrus chimed in. "WE WON'T GIVE UP ON YOU!"
"I know we only just met," Katara brought up, "but the way you wanted to save us and get us to safety after the Fire Nation invasion said a lot about you."
"Now, about that other thing," Jasmine brought up. "It's always heartbreaking to lose someone that way. We're all glad you didn't go through with it, and I know the Storm Hawks are too. I can understand why you felt the way you did, though. We can't hate you for that either."
"This isn't that ship, right?" Katara asked for clarification. "Where's that ship now?"
"Back home," Stork told her. "It's been rebuilt twice now. Piper is watching over it while she looks for the others. I trust her with it."
"It was destroyed and rebuilt TWICE?" Katara pointed out. "That's amazing! Look how far you've come! And now, you're trusting it to somebody else and keeping on going!"
"Sometimes, I wonder how she's doing," Stork admitted. "The Condor, not Piper. Well, Piper, too. But now I know if something happens to the Condor, it's not necessarily the end of the world. If something happened to the other Storm Hawks, though, and something DID – "
"WE ALREADY KNOW THREE OF THEM ARE ALIVE," Papyrus reminded him. "THAT JUST LEAVES TWO MORE!"
"Don't say three out of five isn't bad," Stork sighed.
"I'M NOT SAYING THAT," Papyrus huffed. "I'M SAYING WE'LL PROBABLY FIND OUT VERY SOON THAT THE OTHER TWO ARE ALSO ALIVE!"
"I'm actually starting to believe you," Stork admitted.
"Stork," Jasmine said gently, "if you ever feel like that again, like there's nothing to live for, don't be afraid to come to us about it. We'll do our best to help you."
"WE'LL FIND A NEW REASON FOR YOU!" Papyrus insisted.
"Or just listen if you need to talk," Ruby promised.
"You're all…" Stork blinked rapidly, trying to hold back the water that was building up beneath his lids. "You're too good. All of you. Better than I could have asked for. For that, I'm going to protect you from everything I can. I hope I can do for you half of what you do for me. Even if you get on my nerves sometimes."
"It's not about keeping a tally of who does what," Sora said with a smile. "It's just about being there for each other."
"And we each do that in our own way," Jasmine added.
Stork smiled. One lone teardrop left a watery trail down the side of his face. "Let's not talk about this anymore. Let's go back to telling Katara about Radiant Garden."
Katara felt at peace. Having just witnessed what she did, she felt that if everyone at Radiant Garden shared the same kind of bonds as the group aboard her current ship, she would feel perfectly at home.
...
Another Gummi ship approached Radiant Garden from the opposite direction, this one in much higher spirits.
"I'm glad it turned out we didn't really hate each other," Chip sighed.
"We should've seen through it right from the start," Nora said with a nod.
"We…really don't hate each other, do we?" Moana wondered out loud. "I mean, we know that all the stuff we heard was fake, but we weren't thinking it, were we?"
"You know what I think we should do?" Kairi suggested. "I think we should use this time to say nice things about each other."
"Okay!" Nora agreed. "I'll start. Moana? It really wouldn't matter if you were the chosen one or not, because you're so strong and capable, you can do whatever you want! You could just go out there and save the world whenever you felt like it, and you'd rock it!"
Moana found herself smiling. "Nora," she replied, "you are weird, but in a way that makes everyone smile. You're also really tough."
"Luna," Jaune said, "sometimes I think about just how much you have to handle, having the entire moon of your world under control, and it just wows me. You're just so elegant and amazing."
"And you have a good heart, Jaune," Luna replied. "You care about your friends deeply enough to sacrifice part of your own Aura to give to another."
"Aladdin," Nick said, "you're a really smart guy. You can think your way out of a lot of situations."
"Hey, thanks, Nick," Aladdin replied. "And you're a brave guy. You have a good sense of right and wrong."
"Genie," Madison said, "you always know how to make everything more fun. Your energy is really contagious."
"And your kindness is just as infectious!" Genie told Madison. "It's what helps you win the fight when it counts!"
"Sadira," Vida said, "you're a good friend with a lot of magical talent."
"And you're a great pal who knows how to rock out," Sadira replied.
"Carpet," Chip said, "you're always there when we need you. I know we can always count on you!"
Carpet gave Chip a thumbs-up.
"And Riku," Chip went on, "I know you've had a bad past, but you always do the right thing, and you're not afraid to stand up for it! And Kairi! You're just really sweet, and you're doing great taking charge!"
"You're another one of those who makes people smile, Chip," Riku said, a soft grin overtaking him. "You're a friend people can count on."
"I agree with everything everyone said," Kairi stated decisively. "I'm so glad I know all of you."
"I just want to add one thing," Jaune contributed. "Kairi…I think you're one of the absolute kindest people I've ever met. I'd trust you with my life."
"And I'd trust you with mine, Jaune," Kairi replied. "You're so full of heart, and you care about everyone."
"And we can't forget the people who aren't here!" Nora insisted. "Ren, Ruby, Cadance, Xander, Sora, Papyrus, Jasmine, and Stork. They're great too!"
"We'll have to be sure and tell them when we all meet up," Kairi resolved.
...
Around the time that Scar and Harley were lugging Joker down to where Grimhilde and Ursula were prepping their laboratory space to heal him, Facilier and Zhao knelt before Maleficent herself, both the very picture of composure despite the rapid rates of their heartbeats, Facilier's much more so than Zhao's. Hades, Cruella, and Jafar stood behind as a watching audience.
"The two of you conquered the heart of the Fire Nation," Maleficent stated. "And yet it was lost."
"Through no fault of our own!" Facilier said, his desperation starting to leak out through his voice.
"And I am to understand that you very nearly prevented Mozenrath's companions from repairing his condition," Maleficent went on, "but when you saw him again at the North Pole, he was standing on two feet once more."
"Nobody expected the Avatar to save the souls of murderers!" Zhao protested.
"And besides," Facilier argued, "standin' on two feet don't mean healthy. He could still be dyin'!"
"A brief search from Grimhilde will prove whether or not he yet lives," Maleficent reminded Facilier. "You have both aimed for lofty goals, and yet you have failed to bring me anything of worth."
Facilier cringed. It was back to the pit of souls for him, he feared. Or perhaps something worse, something he couldn't even imagine.
"And yet…" Maleficent's mouth tilted upward into a smirk. "You did indeed achieve both of your goals for quite some time. Were it not for Ozai's foolishness and arrogance, the Fire Nation would be under my command through him. And knowing that the Keybearer was involved in their release, I can only congratulate you for managing to capture the souls of Mozenrath's companions at all. Yes, I do believe both of you will be of great use to me, especially Dr. Facilier. The solstice notwithstanding, your prowess commanding the Heartless was remarkable indeed. You may both make your homes here. Perhaps with your skill and intellect, we may yet recapture what we have lost."
"You got my thanks for your mercy," Facilier told her.
"We shall continue to conquer in your name," Zhao promised, "until we have established an empire with an infinite reach."
"You may both rise," Maleficent informed them. "See to whatever duties you must, as I shall see to mine."
Facilier and Zhao both stood to full height, turning to leave the chamber. On their way, they passed the trio that had observed.
Hades extended a hand to Facilier. "Welcome onboard, Shadow Man," he said with a toothy grin. "Gotta say, from what you said about all that stuff you did, I like your style. Somethin' tells me we're gonna be good friends, you and me."
Facilier clasped and shook Hades' hand. "Good thing neither of us promised the other anythin'. Shakin' hands with you is an even worse idea than shakin' hands with me."
Their eyes met, and a certain understanding passed between them.
"You interest me, firebender," Jafar told Zhao. "I do hope for your sake that you are as talented as you seem."
"I'm that and more," Zhao said with a smirk of his own.
Zhao and Facilier took their leave, and Jafar, Cruella, and Hades moved in closer to Maleficent. "So, Mal," Hades began, "what's our next move?"
"Do you expect us to keep gaining and losing and gaining and losing?" Cruella asked in frustration.
"Not at all," Maleficent told her. "I believe the time has come for a test of sorts. We have powerful magic at our disposal, and we must make sure it can achieve what we wish before we put it to work. Should all go well, I believe we are on the path to discovering the true location of the Book of Prophecies."
"You have our interest," Jafar stated.
Maleficent began to explain, outlining her scheme. After some time, Ursula and Grimhilde joined the group, having finished restoring Joker's health. The six entered a deep discussion, and it was in the midst of their plotting that Edgar rapped upon the door.
"There is a visitor at the gates," Edgar announced. "He wishes to see you."
"Upon what grounds?" Maleficent said sharply.
Edgar simply told her his name, and she brushed past him, stalking her way to the gates to greet the visitor.
She could tell he was a Nobody from the moment she lay eyes on him. From his long, dark hair to his sparkling eyes, he was impossible not to recognize. "I see fate has brought you here," Maleficent told him.
"So it has," he agreed. "I am told you are the one I have been fated to ally with from the beginning."
"I do believe you can help our cause achieve great things," Maleficent replied. "Provided, of course, that you do not act so foolishly as you did when you were whole. The next time, there will be no one to save you."
"I understand," the man growled.
"In that case," Maleficent said, "welcome to our stronghold, Ozai."
...
Mozenrath and Yzma met up with Scarlet at about the same time that Wuya did. The three founding members of the WHAM ARMY spent some time interrogating Scarlet about her past while seated in an upstairs conference room, and they found themselves more than satisfied with her persona and résumé. The topic of conversation eventually shifted to more casual affairs, which, to Mozenrath, meant more boring ones.
"And people keep saying dressing like I do isn't PRACTICAL to committing bank robberies," Scarlet laughed. "I think everyone just wants to get me into a black skin-tight catsuit. Not that I don't think I'd look good in one. But I've never once had to throw a mission because my skirt caught on something or my heels put me off balance. Sure, I have to adjust my bodice every now and again, because, well, you know how straplesses are, but if you can't look good while committing villainy, what's the point?"
"Exactly!" Yzma agreed. "I always was a fan of the back decoration look. Sort of a peacock-tail effect with a large fan. It makes the peasantry all the more intimdated by you when you wear it."
"Image is about fifty percent of the villain game," Wuya said with a nod. "I tend to stick with black since it doesn't clash with anything, but every other ensemble I've employed has been perfectly coordinated. Because if you show up to spread Darkness and you don't look the part, who's going to take you seriously?"
"Nobody's going to take you seriously if you keep up this girl talk," Mozenrath muttered.
"WHAT was that?" Scarlet snapped, leaning forward in her seat. "You know, I have half a mind to smack you, but you're my boss, so of course I'm not going to do that."
"No, go ahead," Wuya encouraged. "We get to do that whenever he makes a sexist comment. You'd think he'd learn."
Scarlet rose from her seat, took two strides toward Mozenrath, and slapped him across the face. "I went easy on him," she said as she returned to her chair.
"THAT was going EASY on me?" Mozenrath grumbled as he gently touched his fingers to the now throbbing pain in his face.
"Besides," Wuya went on, "it's not like we don't know how much time you spent on THAT look, Mozenrath."
"I'm a conquering lord," Mozenrath muttered as he prodded his face. "I have to look like one. But I didn't spend hours coordinating this outfit."
"Really?" Yzma sighed. "You're really going to pull that one on us? I suppose you magically pulled that entire thing out of a broom closet in the Black Sands, trim and all, and it fit perfectly."
"Maybe I did," Mozenrath argued.
"You're just as much of a fashion victim as everyone else at this table," Scarlet accused.
"Victim?" Wuya repeated. "Oh, no, I'm no VICTIM. I'm a fashion PERPETRATOR."
"What does that even mean?" Mozenrath groaned.
"Uh…yeah, not sure what that means," Scarlet affirmed.
"Isn't it obvious?" Yzma answered for Wuya. "We wear what we wear well and watch as it becomes the trend."
"I couldn't have put it better," Wuya stated.
"Well," Mozenrath relented, "when you put it THAT way, I suppose that COULD be applicable to my situation…"
"Come on," Scarlet egged on, "say it. You're all about image…as much as the rest of us 'girls.'"
"I'm not saying that," Mozenrath spat.
"I want to hear this," Wuya said, scooting slightly forward in her chair in mock anticipation.
"We're not leaving this table unless you say it," Yzma resolved, "or something better comes along to divert our attention."
Mozenrath grit his teeth, quite averse to just admitting that Yzma, Wuya, and Scarlet had a point about him. Before he could say anything else, Snatcher strode into the room.
"There you are, Mrs. Overkill!" he greeted. "I've been seeking you all over. I had so wanted to resolve our little debate, which we never did get the chance to settle when we met."
"What debate?" Scarlet was confused.
"Why, which of us is truly the more skilled on the dancefloor," Snatcher said slyly.
Yzma looked to Wuya. "I think this counts as a better diversion."
"You're not wrong," Wuya responded. Then, to Snatcher and Scarlet, "If you're going to have a proper dance-off, you'll need a DJ."
"And that's where you come in?" Snatcher asked.
"Precisely." Wuya grinned toothily. "Meet you in the karaoke room?"
"There's a karaoke room?" Scarlet realized.
"An informal one," Wuya told her. "We set up one of the larger halls with a sound system for any music-related performance art you can name."
"And it's far enough away from my room that I actually can't hear the noise when I'm trying to concentrate!" Mozenrath said gleefully.
"Are you just a killjoy about everything?" Scarlet asked snidely.
"I'm not a killjoy," Mozenrath grunted.
"You think fashion is 'girl talk,' you want to shut yourself away from karaoke…" Scarlet ticked off. "That's pretty killjoy to me."
"I am NOT a killjoy and I'll PROVE it," Mozenrath snarled. "I'll be the judge of which of you is the better dancer. Killjoys wouldn't do that."
"He'll be ONE judge," Yzma broke in. "I'll be another."
"I can judge and DJ at the same time," Wuya volunteered.
Scarlet stood and stared Snatcher down. "Let's do this."
"I must warn you, Mrs. Overkill," Snatcher replied, "I only suggested this challenge so you would know exactly how much you were playing with fire when you first proposed the idea."
The quintet made their way to the karaoke room: a spacious hallway with a speaker-laden stage at one end and a scattering of tables at the other, with space cleared to dance in between. Garfield, Roman, and Demyx were already there, comparing the results of their heists at one of the back tables.
"I'm wearing it right now," Roman said as he held out one of Wuya's precious eyeliner pencils, "and she doesn't even know."
"You still think THAT was hard?" Garfield sniffed, twirling a small flask idly on the tabletop. "If Iceman had been a little less focused on what he was doing, I'd have frostbite in all four limbs right now."
"So, yeah, here's the thing," Demyx offered. "I thought about the challenge you gave me, and I didn't feel like doing it, so I didn't."
"Seriously?" Roman snapped. "I might get it if you were chicken, but you ASKED for an impossible challenge."
"I wanted one," Demyx related, "but then I thought about it, and…nah. Too much work."
"Did you steal ANYTHING that belonged to Righty?" Roman urged.
"No," Demyx replied. "Didn't feel like it."
"I guess we split the title," Garfield told Roman.
"Yeah," Roman agreed. Then, to Demyx: "You kinda suck."
"Hey!" Demyx snapped.
Once Mozenrath, Wuya, Yzma, Scarlet, and Snatcher entered the room, Roman quickly pocketed the eyeliner pencil to keep it from being recognized. "What's all this?" he asked.
"Mr. Snatcher and I are settling which one of us is the better dancer," Scarlet informed the thieving trio.
"Oof," Roman replied. "I hate to tell ya, Strawberry Punch, but you already lost this competition."
"You don't know that yet!" Scarlet argued.
Wuya took her place up on the stage, settling in behind a turntable. "I think I have the perfect song for this occasion," she announced over a microphone settled over her head.
She flicked a switch. The song from the juice bar began to blast loudly from the speakers.
"NO," Scarlet and Snatcher barked in unison.
Wuya cackled to herself at her little joke; Scarlet had informed her of how Roman, Herb, and Neo had made a complete nuisance of that song. She briefly contemplated switching it to "Cruel World" to get a reaction out of Mozenrath, but ultimately settled on playing a song with a better beat and a more mellow tone.
Mozenrath and Yzma backed off, letting Scarlet and Snatcher stride into the center of the floor, locking eyes with each other to visually dare each other to outperform. At the same moment, they both synchronized their movements to the beat, sliding across the floor with grace, swaying and spinning as their improvisational instincts took them.
It wasn't easy to declare a clear victor. While Snatcher and Scarlet's styles differed, having been tempered by the trends of the times they grew up in, they shared a common grace and energy. As they danced, they flashed each other coy looks, each believing to be leagues ahead of the other.
"Have I mentioned how sexy he is?" Roman asked as he, Demyx, and Garfield moved up next to Mozenrath and Yzma to better observe the competition.
"At least twenty times too many," Mozenrath replied dryly.
"This needs to be immortalized," Roman realized. "Hang on. I'm recording this." He reached into his pocket for his scroll only to find it gone. He patted down every inch of his clothing, searching for the device. "Hey, Gar," he said, figuring he had left the scroll in his room. "Let me borrow your scroll."
"Sure thing." Garfield began to rummage through his own pockets. "Just…give me a minute to find it. I know I had it on me earlier…"
"Hey, guys?" Demyx broke in. "I didn't really feel like taking anything from the new boss, but you know what I did feel like doing?"
Garfield and Roman turned to see Demyx holding their scrolls out to them.
"Making you guys look like chumps," Demyx said with a grin.
"You REALLY suck," Roman grunted as he swiped his scroll back in hand.
"No arguments here," Garfield added as he reclaimed his own device.
"What, no brownie points for being creative?" Demyx asked. He was ignored.
Roman filmed Snatcher and Scarlet's dance for a while as Mozenrath and Yzma observed carefully, waiting for the defining criterion that would set one above the other. After about thirty seconds, Roman pocketed the scroll. "Fuck it," he said. "I'm getting in on this."
He jaunted onto the dancefloor, catching Snatcher's eye. Snatcher paused to extend a hand; as soon as Roman took it, the two began to move in symbiosis.
"Looks like fun," Demyx remarked. He stepped out onto the floor himself, offering a hand to Scarlet; "Can I cut in?"
"Sure!" Scarlet answered, seizing his hand and pulling him into her dance. It soon became apparent that Demyx was quite skilled at dancing himself, and he was easily able to keep up with Scarlet's pace.
Wuya, reading the mood, snapped her fingers, letting a disco ball appear on the ceiling. All the lights in the room were doused but for a pair of strobes and a line of multicolored spotlights that flickered back and forth across the floor.
"NOW we're talkin'!" Demyx cried as he dipped Scarlet low; when she stood, she spun him and returned the favor.
"Eh, might as well." Yzma began to stroll onto the dancefloor with a shrug.
"We're supposed to be judging, remember?" Mozenrath told her.
"Well, I'm judging that I'm every bit as good as those four, and I need to show it off!" Yzma called back to him. "You can join me when you're done being a killjoy."
"I AM NOT A KILLJOY!"
"THEN DANCE WITH ME!"
"I DON'T WANT TO!"
Wuya levitated down from the stage, settling gently in front of Yzma. "I heard you were looking for a non-killjoy to dance with," she said coyly.
"I was also looking for someone who can keep up with me," Yzma teased.
"Try me," Wuya dared.
They stepped around each other, bouncing to the beat. Their footwork became more intricate as Wuya's bare toes teased around Yzma's high-heeled shoes.
Watching the three couples out on the floor, Mozenrath felt a surge of energy bubble up within him. The lighting and the music worked together to create an atmosphere that gave him the feeling he should be doing something about it. He had very good reasons for refusing the dance, but perhaps, just this once, it would be all right. After all, he had a lot to celebrate. He had his memory back, he had the Huntsman back (where had that man been all this time, anyway?), and he was close to completing the spell that would give him universal domination. He wanted to abandon his inhibitions. There was the matter of the other six dancers, but they were in pairs, and each half of the pair was focused on the other half. No one would notice him.
He took a tentative step out onto the dancefloor, then another. Staying at the edge of the lights, he began to move, kicking and bouncing.
Garfield, whom Mozenrath had completely forgotten about, gaped as he watched. He slowly put up his scroll to record the scene.
The lights reflected rainbow flecks off the disco ball, painting the entirety of the dancers in half-shadow and half-brilliance. If he hadn't found Roman handsome before, Snatcher thought, he would most certainly be completely won over now, watching him groove beneath the lights. Roman was starstruck by his own dance partner, watching Snatcher absolutely exude energy in a way he couldn't tear his eyes away from. This was Scarlet's first introduction to Demyx, but she couldn't see how anyone who danced with her the way he did could be any less than a good friend. Demyx was awed by Scarlet's skill as well; he was having more than enough fun with her to take his mind off the resentment that had been festering deep down at the people who'd forced him into this alliance and done nothing but mock him. Yzma was wonderstruck by Wuya's grace, noticing things about her, the curve of her smile, the flip of her hair, that Yzma hadn't really seen before. And likewise, Wuya found a new appreciation for the way Yzma moved in this light, thinking not just of the way she danced, but the way she carried herself on a daily basis.
But on one spin, Roman caught a glimpse of Mozenrath, and he halted dead in his tracks. Snatcher was forced to stop as well to see why Roman had done so. Once she noticed Snatcher had stopped, Scarlet brought her own dance to an end, causing Demyx to nearly trip over his own feet when she was no longer moving. Yzma turned to see what all the fuss was about, and her jaw dropped as her feet slowed. Wuya was the last to stop, all too entertained by what she was looking at.
Mozenrath was an incredibly terrible dancer. He had only the most basic grasp of the rhythm of the song and no idea of how to move gracefully to it. To say he looked awkward would be putting it mildly. He swung his limbs in a way he thought felt right, but even he knew he wasn't sure. His feet barely left the same three-foot radius, but when they moved, he stumbled slightly before catching himself and continuing once more. He kept going for about a minute more after being noticed, having too much fun with himself to pay attention to his surroundings. He then realized that he was the only one still moving at all, and he brought himself to a sudden halt, looking to Scarlet, Snatcher, Demyx, Roman, Yzma, and Wuya in a panic.
And those six, with the addition of Garfield, broke out into loud, raucous laughter.
"THIS is why you don't dance?" Yzma crowed.
"You're TERRIBLE!" Roman guffawed. "You fucking SUCK!"
Mozenrath flushed, embarrassment washing over him as his friends lobbied insults. He was ready to let it explode in the form of anger. But the music was still playing, the lights were still flashing, and with the exception of Demyx, these people were still his friends. A sudden and unexpected calm washed over Mozenrath, and he said coolly, "I don't know what you're talking about. I can dance. Just about as well as Roman can sing."
"Was…that a JOKE?" Roman said in awe. "Did you just make a JOKE?"
"He finally grew a sense of humor," Wuya commented.
"Well, it was either make a joke or throw you all in the dungeons for laughing at me," Mozenrath said with a shrug, "and I went with the one that was less work."
"Forget about it!" Scarlet encouraged. "Everyone's having fun! Let's just keep dancing!" She beckoned to Garfield. "Get out here and dance with us!"
"Nah," Garfield replied. "I actually DON'T dance. Besides, SOMEBODY needs to record this to show off to everyone else later." What he didn't want to admit was that as objectively bad as he knew Mozenrath to be at dancing, Garfield himself was even worse at the art. The moment he attempted to work the floor, he would become everyone's new target.
The others shrugged him off and returned to their dance, letting Mozenrath continue to flail as bizarrely as made his heart content.
After a while, Mozenrath tired out, moving back to sit at one of the tables. Demyx ran out of energy not long after. Scarlet only went on for a little bit without her partner. Yzma, Snatcher, Roman, and Wuya felt the drain in sequence, making their departure one by one. Wuya flicked her wrist, turning on the main lights, dousing the strobes, and shutting off the music.
"Well?" Snatcher asked once the group was seated around the same table. "Is there a verdict?"
"I'm voting for myself," Yzma announced.
"I was better than you," Wuya argued, "and you know it."
"Oh, no, you weren't!" Yzma retorted.
"Archie totally had this in the bag," Roman tossed in.
"I dunno," Demyx replied. "Scarlet was actually able to keep up with me, and…actually, I'm voting for me."
"I still think I dominated," Scarlet boasted.
"Far less than I," Snatcher countered. "And I'm the only one who currently has multiple votes."
All eyes went to Mozenrath and Garfield.
"You've got moves," Garfield admitted. "All of you. But if Peter were here, he'd want me to give my vote to Scarlet just to even it out and make trouble. So that's what I'm doing."
"Lord Mozenrath," Snatcher pleaded, "think of all we've been through together. We broke loose of the Underworld together! We're Penelope Frou Frou and Brandisia Black!"
"He has a point," Mozenrath said with a smirk. "He also has my vote."
"And that settles that!" Snatcher declared, pounding his fist on the table. "I reign supreme!"
"Though I think we can ALL agree that Mozenrath is the WORST dancer here," Demyx laughed.
Garfield giggled nervously, drawing stares. Everyone shrugged it off.
"Well, it's been fun…" Mozenrath stated. "No, really, it's been strangely fun. But I think we all have work to do."
"Quite so," Snatcher affirmed. "I actually had a favor to ask of Torchwick and Mr. Lynns."
"Yeah?" Garfield and Roman said as one.
"I shall explain the details later," Snatcher clarified.
Mozenrath rose. "I'll see you later to talk business," he said before stalking out of the room.
Most everyone else went their separate ways. Mozenrath was, however, made aware of quick footsteps rushing to catch up with him.
"Hey!" Demyx greeted as he fell in step next to Mozenrath.
"…Hello?" Mozenrath replied, confused and already a little miffed.
"So I'm curious," Demyx said. "I know we got off on the wrong foot."
Not that we ever got onto the right one, each thought to himself.
"And I didn't really take you seriously," Demyx went on. "But is that something that happens to you a lot? That people don't take you seriously because of how young you are? Or how bad of a dancer? Though I'm sure that second one doesn't come up a lot."
"Admittedly, yes," Mozenrath answered. "By most people outside my circle, in fact. My brother, who is YOUNGER THAN ME, didn't believe I was the lord of my own empire. And if I'd cut a more impressive figure with a few more years under my belt, I'm sure my interruption of Maleficent would have gone a little differently. Not that I'm not glad it went the way it did. I have it better than she ever will. But the only reason my current most persistent nemesis gives me any respect at all is because he's around twelve." No, he didn't know how old Sora really was, nor did he care.
"Gotcha," Demyx said with a nod. "See, I kinda get it. Nobody ever took me seriously either. Not in life before the Organization, not in the Organization…and I didn't really talk to people between the Organization and you, but I still don't think anybody would have taken me seriously. I know you still don't."
"Well, your powers are fairly impressive," Mozenrath replied. "Your general attitude makes me want to throw you into interspace without a lifeline, but you are magically strong. Were I less powerful and intelligent, I might fear you. But I'm not, so I don't."
"Trust me," Demyx said, "I know there's a good reason you're in charge around here. I'm not here to pick a fight. I was just curious, that's all. If you got it. Because I get it."
"Maybe there is something about you I can understand," Mozenrath admitted.
"Same."
They walked together in silence before Demyx, realizing he'd worn out his only discussion topic once he'd gotten his curiosity satisfied, groaned, "Okay, this is awkward."
"And I have somewhere to be where I would really rather not be followed," Mozenrath grunted.
"I follow!" Demyx said with a nod. "Which is why I'm not going to follow!" He darted down a side hallway.
Mozenrath watched his departure for a moment before shrugging it off and turning his thoughts toward other things. Namely, the fact that he was thoroughly bamboozled by the Huntsman's disappearance, and he wanted to pay him a visit under the new context of their rekindled relationship.
...
Within the deepest forest of Terra Gruesomeus, Dilan ran a stone along the blade of his lance, keeping it sharp. Sparks flew up as the metal roughly kissed the rock.
One lance would not be enough, Dilan thought to himself. It hadn't been so ever since he had taken it up in the service of Radiant Garden. His first order of business now that he was operating on his own was to obtain five more. That would be the proper amount.
...
Rémington laid the last of the blueprints out over Terminus' counter as Terminus and Hoagy looked on in awe. "And this is for a gun that shoots actual lava," Rémington explained.
No, they weren't the originals. Rémington had found a copier on the warship and made duplicates of each print so the originals could make their way back to Herb's table later. There would be less suspicion that way.
"A thermal marvel!" Terminus remarked. "Where did you come by such things?"
"You've never needed to know before," Rémington answered, "and you don't need to know now. So about my payment…?"
"Of course!" Terminus said enthusiastically. "Hoagy, I'd say he deserves a little bonus for this, wouldn't you?"
"Well," Hoagy said tentatively, "the Hypno-Hat is a little silly. But the lava gun is something special!"
The pair rummaged about and dug up a fat purse to hand over to Rémington.
"When can we expect your next delivery?" Terminus asked.
"Don't worry about that," Rémington commanded. "Just worry about putting together the things in the blueprints."
He turned and stalked away from the counter and out of the shop. His next destination was whatever town had a good shop for purchasing long, black capes.
Once Rémington had gone, Terminus spread out the blueprints across the counter. "Which shall we begin production on first?" he wondered out loud. "Oh, like it's going to be anything but the lava gun."
"I'll start pullin' stuff together!" Hoagy said with enthusiasm.
The back door opened and shut, and given the timing, Terminus and Hoagy knew exactly who it was. "There you are, Harley!" Terminus greeted without looking up. "We've just gotten a new shipment of schematics in, and there's much work to be done! You'd better be up for a challenge today."
He just received a weak "Okay" and a sniffle in response.
Terminus and Hoagy looked, curiously, toward Harley. She was out of costume, out of makeup, just clad in a loose pink shirt and jeans, blonde hair flowing long. A deep, dark black eye stood out starkly against the rest of her pale face, and it was the only one of her multitude of bruises that Terminus and Hoagy could see. As she met their gazes, she tried to hold back, act as though everything were normal, but she found the task impossible, and soon the tears streamed down her face.
"…Actually," Terminus said softly, "forget the schematics. Come on, sit." He pulled a chair over toward Harley. "Hoagy, get her a cup of tea." As Hoagy followed the command, Terminus lightly brushed his hands over Harley's upper arms, physically directing her down into the chair. "There, that's it, sit down. Now tell us all about it."
...
The Huntsman had contemplated reading, or drinking, or doing anything at all, but instead had passed the time by simply letting his emotions percolate. When Mozenrath appeared in his kitchen, he was hunched over the counter, cape and helmet set aside for the sake of comfort.
"Knock first," he growled at Mozenrath.
"And here I thought you'd be happy to see me," Mozenrath said coyly, leaning over the counter, elbows on the hard surface. "I haven't seen you since we got back, after all, and it's about now that we should probably be deciding whether we're going to stay in your quarters or mine."
"We will each stay in our own quarters," the Huntsman said with a deadly edge.
"All right, we're taking it slow," Mozenrath interpreted. "I can respect that. After all, we're a cut above the likes of Mim and Aghoul – "
"You don't understand, do you?" The Huntsman slammed his hands onto the table and stood up. "This was a mistake."
Mozenrath flinched. "You had better not mean what I think you mean," he said, his own tone suddenly growing cold.
"Do you realize what happened?" the Huntsman reminded him. "It was due to your carelessness that I was unable to slay both of the dragons of the Sun Warrior civilization. And this is not the first time. I also lost the Grimm of Vale because of you."
"So I need to step up my dragon-slaying skills," Mozenrath said casually. "You still got to kill the red one."
"It was not enough," the Huntsman snarled. "I lost both the Grimm and the blue dragon because I chose you instead. It is exactly as Vexen warned, and I did not listen."
"What does VEXEN have to do with this?" Mozenrath asked, taken aback.
"Vexen warned that should I grow romantically attached to you," the Huntsman explained, "I would lose sight of my own self and what was truly important to me. I am a dragon slayer. I was raised from birth to be a dragon slayer. And only now am I coming to realize that Vexen's warning has come true. I continue to choose you over the very goal I was bred to achieve. Slaying dragons is what I was meant for, and I routinely fail at it BECAUSE I CHOOSE YOU!"
"I'm sorry," Mozenrath snapped, "but are you seriously blaming me because you took something VEXEN said to heart? You know you're only repeating HIS words. When can I talk to the actual George Liu?"
"Just because the words did not come from me does not mean they are not true," the Huntsman clarified. "It took his words to awaken me. No, it took losing the blue dragon to awaken me. If I am to continue, I cannot hold onto the bond I have had with you. When the moment of truth arrives, I must not choose you again. I must make the correct choice."
"Are you saying you'd let me DIE?" Mozenrath said in awe and anger.
"If that is what it takes," the Huntsman said in a low, grating tone, his crimson eyes fixed directly upon Mozenrath's. "In order for me to make the right choice, I must redefine our relationship. We cannot exchange romantic favors. No more revelations. No more kisses. At least it did not get any more intimate."
Mozenrath felt as though he had only just become immersed in something that felt wonderful as it soaked into his skin, but all of a sudden, he was forcibly dried of it. As a result, a deluge of emotion rushed in to replace it. "You're BREAKING UP WITH ME? You can't DO THIS!"
"You may command my actions on the field," the Huntsman told Mozenrath coldly, "but you cannot command me to rescind my decision about this. And to the point, I am doing more than breaking up with you. I am your ally and I shall fight alongside you in our quest for domination. But I am no longer your friend. You will recall, of course, that the last time I put my trust in someone, it led to my demise."
"And you'll recall that said demise wasn't permanent because of ME," Mozenrath argued. "Besides, she was a pawn! You never trusted her with what you trusted me with! Or am I just a tool to you too?"
"Not a tool," the Huntsman clarified. "An associate."
Mozenrath slammed his right fist into the counter, charged with magic; it cracked the surface. "We were in this together! Do you know how many walls I brought down to let you in? Do you know what you DID to me? You changed me in a way I can never come back from, and now you're taking it all back! I was ECSTATIC to be able to be close to you again! I forgot all about what I felt for you, and the moment I feel it again, you decide to take it away from me! I would have chosen to save you a THOUSAND times – "
"If it came down to being between me and your dream of conquest?" the Huntsman prodded.
"I could have both," Mozenrath insisted. "I could ALWAYS have both."
"If you believe that, then you're more short-sighted than I thought!" the Huntsman argued. "There will come a day when you will have to choose!"
"I'm not short-sighted," Mozenrath growled. "I'm determined. I've come this far on raw determination, and I don't think it's going to start failing me now. The only thing that's failing me is you. For the last time, stop telling me Vexen's words. Tell me yours."
"These are my words," the Huntsman insisted.
"And stop comparing me to the girl."
"Even factoring her out of the equation," the Huntsman emphasized, "the path I must take is clear. Our relationship, as of now, is strictly professional."
"After all you did," Mozenrath said in awe, shaking his head. "After you turned me into the kind of person who would actually care. I can never forgive you for that."
"Then change back into the kind of person who wouldn't," the Huntsman advised.
Mozenrath grit his teeth. "It's not that easy."
"It will be for me."
"What are you going to tell the others? Are you going to stop being friends with them too?"
"I am," the Huntsman confirmed. "I had planned to tell you all at once, but you intruded upon me after I requested to be alone."
"I won't speak for them," Mozenrath said, "but I think you know how they're going to take this."
"They will take this like adults," the Huntsman stated. "I had thought you would have the good sense to, but I was wrong."
Mozenrath shuddered. "You…you…I COULD HAVE YOU PUNISHED FOR THIS! I COULD HAVE YOU THROWN IN THE DUNGEON AND FIND A NEW WAY TO TORTURE YOU EVERY DAY!"
"But will you?" the Huntsman asked, his gaze piercing right through Mozenrath.
He had Mozenrath's wings pinned, and Mozenrath knew it. "…No."
"I suggest you leave and work out the remainder of your emotions in private," the Huntsman told him. "You will get no more from me."
Mozenrath simply stood still, his entire body trembling.
The Huntsman was grateful the young sorcerer had waited, for he had one more thing to say. "Also, you are no longer to refer to me by my given name. I am the Huntsman to you. That should properly define my position in regards to you."
Without any further word, Mozenrath vanished. He had no desire for the Huntsman to see his further reaction.
The Huntsman told himself he had done the right thing. It would take some time for his heart to resign itself, he knew, but it was for the best.