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.

68. Trouble by Nightfall

A/N: I just wanted a light trigger warning, as this chapter concerns one of our racist villain protagonists rallying allies, which might be reminiscent of certain real-world things I wish hadn't happened in recent times.

...

The sun was still high in the sky when the four horses tore across the bridge leading from Corona to the mainland. As they traveled on, the sun dipped lower and lower to the horizon, streaking beautiful reds and pinks that the travelers didn't have the aesthetic palate to appreciate. When the sun itself had disappeared, leaving only the remnants of dusky light in its wake, Snatcher pulled his horse to a stop.

"We'd best make camp for the night," he announced when Roman, Demyx, and Hans had also reined in their horses.

"You know," Hans replied, "I admire your sensitivity, Archibald. I appreciate that you're giving your poor horse a break after having to carry double the weight of any of ours."

Dismounting from his horse, Snatcher gritted his teeth before saying, "Must you, Mr. Westergard? Must you at EVERY opportunity?"

Hans swung down from his own horse. "You just make it so easy," he taunted.

Demyx and Roman hit the ground as well; Demyx was chuckling to himself while Roman's expression was completely blank.

"I also see you're back to using my first name," Snatcher pointed out. "As I told you not to do."

"You're still calling me 'Mr.'," Hans countered. "Which I told YOU not to do."

"You referred to me in the proper manner for quite some time," Snatcher argued.

"I was busy thinking about what Mozenrath would want me to do," Hans explained. "Then I realized what he doesn't know won't kill him. Besides, we're all going to get along eventually, right? Might as well get in my digs where I can before that happens."

"That makes no logical sense whatsoever," Snatcher replied. "The only way we'll reach a point of collaboration is by treating each other with respect from the get-go."

"Then get going with it," Hans countered.

Snatcher rolled his eyes and turned away. "I'll tend to the horses. The rest of you prepare our campsite."

"How about you two set up camp," Demyx proposed to Roman and Hans, "and I sit back and enjoy the night sky while it's still pretty?"

"Come on," Hans cajoled, "you can at least start a fire."

"You're asking the water guy to start a fire," Demyx reminded him.

"Take one for the team?" Hans argued.

"Fine," Demyx groaned. "One fire."

He pulled together all the sticks and leaves he could find, arranging them into a pile. He then located two stones that fit his hands well, hoping to strike sparks from them. Positioning himself over the pile of kindling, he smacked the two rocks together hopelessly for a good five minutes.

Roman swooped down in beside Demyx, smugly placing his lighter to the kindling and watching the blaze go up.

"Oh, sure," Demyx snorted. "Anyone can do it THAT way."

Roman lit the end of a cigarette in the blaze and positioned it in his mouth.

Before long, all four travelers were seated around the fire. "So have we thought about what we're even going to do to get this princess to come with us?" Demyx asked. "Are we just going to do your general kidnap, or talk her into it?"

"Not to brag," Hans volunteered, "but I have more than enough experience with talking princesses into coming with me."

"If we can get her to come quietly, that would be preferable," Snatcher agreed.

Roman simply nodded. So he was serious about being silent, Snatcher thought. That was fine. More than fine. Preferable, in fact, given how he'd acted. Snatcher most certainly wasn't offput by the lack of words from him, and he definitely wasn't taking this as a sign that he needed to think anything over in more detail, or that he had, heavens forbid, been wrong.

"I kinda wish we could have known more about her relationship with the person who actually DID take her in the first place," Hans mused. "That Gothel."

That was a good idea, but it had come from Hans, so Snatcher couldn't let that fly. "There's no worth in that," he said sharply. "What we need is someone who knew her intimately. Someone who knows what to say and do to make her fall in line." He then paused, pretending to think it over. "Perhaps Gothel."

"You literally just shut me down and then said my exact idea," Hans complained.

"So how do we find her?" Demyx wondered out loud.

Snatcher produced the compass. "We simply ask," he declared. Tapping the compass, he ordered, "Point us in the direction of Gothel."

The needle began to spin round and round and did not cease.

"She's not on this world," Snatcher observed.

"What if she's dead?" Demyx guessed.

"That would actually make things a lot easier for us," Hans pointed out.

"How?" Demyx asked. "She's DEAD."

"And so was Zevon," Hans reminded him.

"Ohhhhhh," Demyx realized. "Does this really count as an emergency?"

Hans was already dialing the number on his scroll. "I don't know," he admitted, "but it's me calling. He won't say no to me."

"You underestimate Lord Mozenrath's capacity to become frustrated with those he cares about," Snatcher stated.

By then, Hans had made the connection. Holding the scroll up to his face, he greeted, "Helloooooooo." Then: "How've you been?...Good, good. Things are going pretty well over here. I mean, present company does leave much to be desired, but we're getting places. Anyway, I was wondering if you could meet us here…Yes…Yes, it's kind of something we need your help with. Literally only you can do this…Come on. For me? Please?...Mozenrath? Mozenrath, are you still – "

A Corridor opened up before the camp, and Mozenrath trudged through, looking quite disgruntled. "All right," he groaned, "make it quick. Garfield and Peter have just gotten the board reset after their third stalemate and everyone's on edge about which of them is going to pull through. Also, Mim is much farther on the bracket than she ever should be, and I'm sure she's cheating somehow, but no one can figure out what she's doing."

"Er…I don't quite understand," Snatcher admitted.

"Chess tournament," Mozenrath said by way of explanation.

The four nodded; that made sense. Then: "Wait," from Hans. "You're having a chess tournament without me?"

"Am I not allowed to have fun until you're done with business?" Mozenrath snapped.

"Well, when you put it like that," Hans said with a shrug. "Anyway, we might need a resurrection."

"Might?" Mozenrath raised a brow.

"We're not really sure she's dead," Demyx confessed.

Mozenrath sighed. "Tell me anyway."

"Her name is Gothel," Hans explained. "She kidnapped a princess on this world. Princess Rapunzel."

"I'm sorry, you're going to have to run that last name you said by me again," Mozenrath replied.

"Princess Rapunzel?" Hans repeated.

"That's…not a name," Mozenrath commented. "It's a vegetable."

"FINALLY," Snatcher sighed. "Every person I meet claiming my name doesn't sound real, and yet we've ended up in a whole kingdom that worships a girl named after rampion."

"Rapunzel isn't the point here," Hans asserted. "It's Gothel we need. Did I give you enough to go on?"

"I think that should work," Mozenrath remarked. "I've resurrected from less."

"Then let's have her," Snatcher bade him.

All four travelers got to their feet as Mozenrath stretched out his right wrist. The calculations and incantations flowed through Mozenrath's mind as he directed his hand to an empty patch of grass. Blue light shimmered in the shape of a human being, soon solidifying into skin, flesh, bone, and hair.

She was not altogether impressive in height or build; her hair was dark, wavy, spilling just past her shoulders. In the low light, all could just make out that her long, loose gown was of a burgundy shade.

"Gothel," Mozenrath greeted as the newly resurrected soul blinked in confusion to take in her surroundings, "welcome to the land of the living."

"I…" Gothel replied, still perplexed. "What…what just happened?"

"You got your free pass out of the Underworld," Mozenrath told her, "and I have a chess match to finish watching." Desperately hoping the victor hadn't been decided while he was away, Mozenrath swept back into the Corridor, which shut behind him.

"Do not mind Lord Mozenrath's curt response," Snatcher told Gothel. "He's a brilliant mind for plotting and fluent in the magical arts, but he still has much to learn by way of human interaction."

A couple things about this situation caught Gothel's interest. One was that the man who had just spoken to her, while not traditionally attractive by the standards she had known, had an incredibly lovely voice: deep and rich, with a pleasing English accent. The other was that she had just been told she'd been given a "free pass out of the Underworld" by someone who was apparently well-versed in magic. "So I'm not dead anymore," she reiterated.

"Nnnnnope!" Demyx confirmed with a smile.

"Well, that's good news," Gothel said, though that was definitely an understatement. Furthermore, it seemed her necromancer had the courtesy to put her in a body that reflected her at her peak rather than the many, many centuries she had lived. "I don't suppose it comes without a catch."

"You were brought back to life to assist us," Snatcher explained.

"With what?" Gothel asked, already sure she wouldn't like the answer.

"You knew a girl named 'Rapunzel' once," Hans tested.

"Rapunzel?" Gothel repeated. "I did much more than simply KNOW Rapunzel. I raised her like my own daughter."

"The daughter you stole from her parents," Snatcher clarified, "in order to make use of her magical power."

"How do you know all of this?" Gothel asked accusatorily.

"We know a lot of things," Hans told her. "We get around. We're not exactly FROM Corona to begin with."

"But on the topic," Snatcher clarified, "we learned of you simply by asking around town in Corona. Your tale seems to be rather common knowledge."

"Fair enough," Gothel said with a shrug. "I suppose it would be, especially after Rapunzel said such slanderous things about me."

"Slander?" Demyx repeated. "So it wasn't true?"

"Oh, it was true," Gothel confirmed. "I just do wish she wouldn't remind everyone. I did care for her for eighteen whole years! I gave her the prime of my fifth century of life! She didn't die, and she was in excellent health! What more could she have asked for, really?"

It had been over five centuries by a very generous margin. But it never did too well to overplay one's hand in new company.

"Well, maybe her real family – " Demyx began.

"Demyx," Hans hushed.

"And she was always going on and on about freedom," Gothel continued, "Blah, blah, blah, 'Mother, I want to leave my tower and see the world.' Not on my watch. I had youth to preserve."

"A tantalizing power to keep for yourself, indeed," Snatcher mused. "Had I access to such a thing, I would certainly make use of it. As would several people I know." Yzma in particular would jump at the chance to restore her youth.

Gothel tried to picture what Snatcher could have looked like when he was at the same age she currently was physically. Perhaps a lot more distinguished. Then again, that voice did give him a lot of charm currently, as did the way he carried himself and gestured when he spoke. It was almost alluring. "So you're not from Corona," Gothel established. "Where, then? Vardaros?"

"We're probably from further away than you'd think," Demyx told her.

"What would you say if I told you we came from worlds away?" Snatcher posed.

"I'd say you look awfully ordinary for that," Gothel commented. "I would have at least expected you to go the direction of Zhan Tiri. But I did just come back from the dead, so I'll buy just about anything at this point."

"Not only have we come from afar, cosmically speaking," Snatcher told her, "but we represent a legion of conquerors. Conquerors in search of items of great magical power in order to make a rather large bid for all of the worlds. Our search for an element of pure Life has led us to this world, where we find ourselves in pursuit of a certain sundrop. A sundrop we believe to be personified in your Rapunzel."

"Rapunzel, the sundrop?" Gothel repeated. "You should believe it. I saw it for myself. I had that flower all to myself before the Corona royal family plucked it. Naturally, I went chasing after the girl, and I could see it in her hair right away. You've never seen a newborn child with so much hair. I would have just taken the hair, but even snipping a lock removed it of its power. So I ended up having to take the entire baby. Not ideal, but I made it work. The hair has been cut, mind you. The power of the sundrop has gone with it."

"And yet," Snatcher pointed out, "we are in possession of a compass that shows us the way to what we ask of it. And when we ask it for the sundrop, it shows us thus." He held out the compass to realize that the sun had already set and it was now too dark to notice which direction the needle was pointing, even by firelight. "Well, you can't see it right now, but it was pointing in a definite direction."

"We think the sundrop's power is still in the girl," Hans clarified.

"Somebody in Corona even said her hair grew back!" Demyx volunteered.

"Her hair has returned?" Gothel was taken aback. "That changes quite a few things."

"I suppose you'll be wanting possession of her once more," Snatcher stated.

"Well, I certainly wouldn't want her power to go to waste," Gothel confirmed.

"Might we strike a deal?" Snatcher asked. "If you should lend us a hand in bringing the girl to heel, we would bring you into our fold and allow you as much access to her hair as you see fit."

"Tempting," Gothel said, "but there's one thing standing in my way."

"And that is?" Snatcher prompted.

"I still know beans about you," Gothel said sternly. "Tell me more about your legion of conquerors, and I'll see if it strikes my fancy."

"Come 'round by the fire, then," Snatcher invited.

Gothel delicately dropped to her knees before the fire, letting her skirts trail behind; Snatcher, Roman, Hans, and Demyx arranged themselves around the fire once more. "We'll start with names," Gothel said. "You know mine, but I don't know yours."

"I am Archibald Snatcher," Snatcher introduced, waiting for the inevitable derogatory comment.

Which Gothel thought about making, but she wanted to make a good impression with this man. She simply nodded.

"Prince Hans Westergard," Hans chimed in.

"Might as well call me Demyx," Demyx volunteered. "Everyone else does."

"And you?" Gothel stared across the fire at Roman. "You don't seem to talk much, do you?"

"He's usually a motormouth," Demyx informed her. "He's just really ticked right now about stuff I'm still confused about."

Roman gave a brief, sharp nod.

"That is Roman Torchwick," Snatcher filled in.

"I see," Gothel responded. "And about your organization."

"The WHAM ARMY," Snatcher replied.

"The what?" Gothel replied, almost laughing.

"I certainly didn't come up with the name," Snatcher grunted, to which Roman just shook his head in disappointment.

Snatcher, Hans, and Demyx took turns telling Gothel about the WHAM ARMY's goal and the spell that required Rapunzel. Their chat took them halfway into the night, leaving them precious few hours to sleep. Once dawn broke, they all found themselves mounting their horses again (to the chagrin of Demyx and Roman, both accustomed late sleepers); Demyx and Hans took to the same horse in order for Gothel to have her own. When they set off, Gothel informed them that the road they were traveling along led to a very particular destination, and speculation began to build that Princess Rapunzel was making a stay in the city of Vardaros.

...

The Huntsclan had generally been responsible for producing its own munitions. Facilities were devoted to the manufacture of the standard-issue huntstaffs, bows, and gadgetry utilized by the slayers. However, the Huntsman had learned that sometimes, one needed to outsource if one found oneself in a jam. He had made a professional acquaintance in the field for just that very purpose, and had requested many a weapon from him, or a tune-up of one of his standard arms. To this man, he was the alias Hunter Thorn. From this man, he did not even have an alias; his business creating magic-resistant weaponry was completely a black-market operation only available to those who even knew magic was a force in place in the world, and he kept his business identity distinctly separate from any other part of his life. To the Huntsman, he was merely the Smith.

The Smith was tall and lean, with close-cropped raven-black hair. When the Huntsman paid him a visit in his garage, he was clothed in a white tee and blue jeans, a leather apron covering the lot and burns and stains all over. Neither man hid his face in the presence of the other. The Smith didn't know the Huntsman's position among the Huntsclan, or even that he was involved at all, though rumors and the edge of the Huntsman's birthmark had led the Smith to suspect. The helmet would have been more of a betrayal of identity than the face.

As such, the Smith did remember that face, and when the Huntsman walked into the garage, he did a double take before breaking into a sly smile. "Haven't seen you around in a while," he remarked. "To tell you the truth, I thought you were dead."

"Not a bad assumption, considering everything," the Huntsman replied.

"A whole bunch of my clients went missing around the same time, you know," the Smith pointed out. "Just stopped showing up. Almost like there'd been some kind of mass murder. Though I suppose that's crazy talk."

"You deal in magic and mysticism," the Huntsman reminded him. "You and I have both learned not to dismiss anything as insanity."

"I deal in neutralizing magic and mysticism," the Smith corrected. "Your point still stands, but I don't want you to misunderstand me here." He approached the Huntsman more closely. "There's only one reason you could be here. You want a weapon."

"I want many weapons," the Huntsman clarified, "and I want them within a day."

"That's a tall order, you know," the Smith told him. "You know my usual rates, but for that kind of speed, I'm going to have to bump them up."

The Huntsman produced a fat purse. It was filled with money from the WHAM ARMY's coffers: his final insult to them. "Search this and tell me what it will acquire."

The Smith rifled through the purse, letting several thick gold coins fall through his hand. "This is the real deal."

"And what's more…" The Huntsman produced one more item: a deep amber-colored crystal with a smoky interior. "This is a Nimbus Crystal. You will find, after some testing, that it produces cloud cover. It may be useful in your production, and if not, it will fetch a price."

"Where'd you pick up a beauty like this?" the Smith wondered, taking the Nimbus Crystal into his hand to look it over.

"That does not matter," the Huntsman asserted. "Given all I have paid you, what amount have I purchased?"

"Lucky for you, I already had thirty spears made," the Smith informed him. "All adjusted to neutralize magic. All sharp enough to perform surgery."

"Thirty spears?" the Huntsman inquired. "With most of your clients missing? For whom were they prepared originally?"

"No one," the Smith answered. "I just got bored. And when a smith gets bored, he forges. I can have ten more spears for you by sundown. Give me a full twenty-four hours and I can make twenty."

"I should like to have this matter resolved by sundown," the Huntsman ordered.

"Then you've just bought yourself thirty spears," the Smith answered. "What're you gonna use 'em for, anyway?"

"A personal matter," the Huntsman stated.

"You know…" The Smith's smile grew wider. "Rumors get around. I've wondered sometimes if my work was going into the slaying business. Killing magicals."

"And what would you think if that were the case?" the Huntsman asked.

"I wouldn't care," the Smith answered with a shrug. "Money's money."

"The harvest of capitalism aside," the Huntsman pressed, "would you ever use your own weapons to slay a magical creature?"

"That's a question no one's ever asked before," the Smith admitted. "But I can't say I haven't thought about it. See, I've had my TV blow out for no reason. The cable company says it's a fluke, but I already know it's gremlins. I came back to my car one night to see an honest-to-goodness hobgoblin running away with the stereo. The whole thing was gutted, steering wheel to engine, so I know a whole troop of 'em musta done it. Insurance only paid for part of it, and I knew I couldn't give a hobgoblin's decription to the cops. And all of those times, I thought…wouldn't I just love to put an arrow through 'em and be done. But I never do. I only think about it."

"That should change," the Huntsman urged.

"Yeah," the Smith agreed. "Really should. After all, I'm the guy with the right tech to do it."

"I am looking for others who share the same desire," the Huntsman admitted. "What I plan is to organize a hunt. That is the reason for the order of weaponry."

"I knew it," the Smith said in awe. "You really are him."

"Who do you think I am?"

"The Huntsmaster," the Smith stated. "I always knew it. That mark on your face. That's the dragon mark, isn't it?"

In the old days, the Huntsman would have dismissed this leg of the conversation with a curt remark. As it were, however, he sought the Smith's aid in more ways than one. "I can hardly be the Huntsmaster without a Huntsclan," he answered. "All of those with the dragon mark but myself were destroyed by a traitor in our midst." Technically, he too had been destroyed, but describing how he had returned would involve touching the topic he had resolved to let lie. "I am now forced to seek allies with those not touched by the mark, but who share my ideals. Those who wish to hunt down magical creatures and exterminate dragons from this world. Surely they exist."

"I know they do," the Smith confirmed. "They'd be relatively easy to find, too. Just gotta put a bug in the right ear."

"Can I count on you to do so before this evening?" the Huntsman asked.

"I'm only one guy here!" the Smith reminded him. "I still gotta make you ten spears! …But I suppose I could make a phone call and see where that goes."

"And I will conduct a search of my own," the Huntsman agreed, pulling out his scroll. "We will exchange contact information and report to each other our findings. We can recruit no more than twenty-nine, since, counting yourself, we can only arm thirty."

"What exactly are we being recruited for?" the Smith asked. "I need to know this before I say I'm in."

"A hunt," the Huntsman explained. "If all goes well, tonight, we will bring down the American Dragon once and for all."

"The American Dragon, huh?" the Smith repeated. "That's gonna be a tough target."

"All the sweeter of a victory," the Huntsman replied. "Should the dragon not make an appearance, we will simply take home a smaller prize. After all, we must have bait to lure the dragon in. I shall also work on acquiring that bait as I do my part."

"Against my better judgment," the Smith decided, "I'm in. To tell you the truth, being part of the Huntsclan never sounded that bad. But…no mark, so no go."

"As of today, it matters no more," the Huntsman assured him.

"So what happens if we kill the dragon?" the Smith asked.

"We move on to greater targets," the Huntsman replied. "There are still many dragons left in this world."

"And if the dragon beats us?"

"Do not speak as though that is a possibility," the Huntsman warned.

They exchanged numbers, then pocketed their devices. "I will contact you as evening draws near," the Huntsman announced. "I also require a place to collect our forces. Will this garage be available?"

"What, don't you have convention centers for that?" the Smith asked.

"All Huntsclan facilities have been compromised," the Huntsman informed him.

"All right," the Smith decided. "Might as well get used to it. After all, sounds like I'm gonna be the official smith for the new Huntsclan."

"You will be," the Huntsman said, "if all goes well."

"You just told me not to even think about it not going well."

The Huntsman was already making for the door. "For your sake," he announced, "it had better."

...

To relieve general boredom, Genie had decided to conjure up a croquet set in the middle of one of the courtyards. Cadance, Nick, Ren, and Xander had taken to it immediately and were having a wonderful time, hardly even competing with each other.

The problem was that Donald Duck had also joined in the game and was determined to win at all costs. Further exacerbating the problem was the fact that he was in dead last place.

"Stupid croquet ball…" he muttered as he lined up his shot. The ball rolled…and missed the wicket entirely. "WHADDAYA MEAN?" Donald screamed at the ball. "THAT WASN'T SUPPOSED TO MISS! STUPID BALL! WAAAHAHAHAHAAAK!"

"Maybe we should take a break for a while," Cadance suggested.

"Maybe we should just let him win," Ren whispered to Xander.

"NO BREAKS!" Donald insisted. "I'm gonna win this thing fair and square!"

On his next turn, he rejoiced when, unbeknownst to him, Genie discreetly used his magic to slip the ball through two wickets in a row. The fact that the ball had curved in a trajectory impossible to achieve in a single stroke bypassed Donald completely.

Goofy walked out onto the field in the heat of the game. "Hey there, Donald!" he greeted. "Who's winnin'?"

"Donald is totally catching up to us," Ren said hurriedly. He, Cadance, Nick, and Xander had an unspoken agreement to hold back their own prowess at the game and act as if they'd never seen a croquet mallet in their lives.

"Good to hear!" Goofy laughed. "Y'know, Donald can be kind of a sore lo – "

"I AM NOT A SORE LOSER!" Donald insisted.

"Well, gawrsh, sorry," Goofy said sheepishly. "Actually, I was lookin' for ya. Mickey wanted to stick around a bit longer before headin' back home, and I just remembered somethin' about this town that might interest ya."

"Oh yeah?" Donald said curiously.

"Doesn't your uncle Scrooge have a house in town?" Goofy reminded him. "I just thought you might wanna pay him a visit!"

"Aw, geez…" Donald slumped. "I should, shouldn't I? After all, he is family."

"Is there something wrong?" Cadance asked.

"Did you have a falling-out?" Nick added.

"No," Donald clarified. "We have a good relationship. Visiting relatives just gets stressful!"

"Well, would you want company if you went?" Xander asked. "I'd be happy to go."

"So would I!" Cadance volunteered.

"Ready to assist if needed!" Genie said with a salute.

Nick and Ren exchanged looks, then shrugged. "As long as we're all here," Ren resolved.

"You'd all really come along on a visit just for me?" Donald said, rather touched. "It's just visiting relatives. It's not like fighting Heartless or anything."

"We're friends," Cadance reminded him. "We help each other out. If you don't want us there, then we won't come."

"No, no, you should definitely come along!" Donald asserted. "What about you, Goofy?"

"Count me in!" Goofy said before suddenly realizing: "Oh, whoops! Almost forgot. Cid wanted some extra help in the Gummi garage today, and I said I'd be there for him! He's got some important work to do today with delicate mechanisms and fragile Gummi blocks, and I figure I'm just the guy to help out with the job!"

Nobody wanted to break Goofy's enthusiasm by pointing out the obvious flaw in that logic.

"Anyway," Goofy said as he turned to leave with a wave, "have fun with the visit!"

"I already feel bad for Cid," Nick whispered to Xander.

"Let's hit the road!" Genie encouraged, and the group of six made their way off the croquet court.

"By the way," Donald declared, "I was closest to winning, so I'm calling this game my victory!"

No one wanted to argue with that either.

Scrooge McDuck's manor was on the very edge of town: a towering structure with gables and a tower, adhering to a Victorian style of architecture.

"It's beautiful," Cadance complimented.

"Your uncle must be pretty rich to live here," Nick observed.

"One of the richest people I know in all the worlds!" Donald confirmed. "He's been working on setting up an inter-world transit system AND running his own shop in town!"

Before anyone could ask what kind of shop Scrooge ran, Donald had already rung the doorbell. Quick to answer was an elderly duck clad in a red jacket and a black top hat. "Donald!" Scrooge cried once he saw who had arrived. "Good to see ya, lad!" He enveloped Donald in a hug that Donald found rather awkward.

"Uh…good to see you too," Donald replied.

Scrooge backed off to observe the party at large: "And ye brought friends! Come in, come in, all! Ye're just in time!"

"In time for what?" Ren wondered out loud.

"Ye'll see!" Scrooge insisted.

He led them down an ornate hallway, carpeted in soft, plush red and ornamented with gold leaf. "Your home is just as beautiful on the inside as on the outside," Cadance observed.

"Why, thank ya, m'dear!" Scrooge replied. "Er…what is your name?"

"I'm Cadance," Cadance replied. "Princess Cadance."

"A princess!" Scrooge cried. "Well, then, ye must be treated like royalty! And who might the rest of yer friends be?"

"I'm Nick," Nick introduced.

"Xander," Xander chimed in. "Very, very nice to meet you. Lovely home you've got."

"The one!" Genie announced. "The only! GENIE FORMERLY OF THE LAMP!"

Scrooge thought back to another genie he'd known, observing that there was most definitely more than one genie of a lamp, but he knew better than to dispute the claim.

"My name is Lie Ren," Ren added. "We're all very pleased to meet you."

"I do think I've seen some of ye out in town," Scrooge realized, "come to think of it. Ye look quite distinct. No doubt ye've met Huey, Dewey, and Louie runnin' the shops."

"We have," Xander confirmed. "A little young to be running businesses, aren't they?"

"That's what I told them!" Scrooge asserted. "And yet they insisted! I couldnae hardly turn them down, could I? After all, they've got a head for business, just the way their old Uncle Scrooge does! They're out makin' their munny right now as we speak."

"Do they usually live here?" Cadance asked.

"Indeed they do!" Scrooge confirmed. "And they've been most helpful in testing new product for me own shop!"

"Testing product?" Nick repeated. "What kind of product?"

By this time, they had arrived at an arched wooden door that Scrooge eased open to reveal a dining room with a long, polished wooden table beneath a vaulted ceiling festooned with a crystal chandelier. "Why, the ice cream, of course!" he declared. "I've been expandin' flavors, and just whipped up several new batches today! Ye came just in time to test 'em out! An' here I was thinkin' I would have to try these all meself!" He gestured to where a cooler buffet was lined up parallel to the table against one wall.

"ICE CREAM!" Donald cried in excitement. "OH BOY!" Without asking further, he charged for the cooler.

"Go on, go on!" Scrooge encouraged. "I need to know how well the flavors go over! Pick one out and have a seat!"

"Free ice cream?" Nick reiterated. "You're a pretty cool guy."

"Looks like it's time to chow down!" Genie announced, summoning up his own bowl and spoon.

The others took dishes and silverware from the end of the cooler, each selecting a flavor from the cooler's variety. Everything from red bean to coconut to cookie dough to mango was available, and the group didn't waste the opportunity to try it all, some even taking a scoop of two flavors and combining it in the same bowl. Once all had selected their flavors of choice, they gathered around the end of the long table, with Scrooge at the head.

"So, tell me, Donald!" Scrooge encouraged. "How've ye been?"

"Aw, we just keep gettin' wrapped up in mess after mess!" Donald complained in between bites.

"That's not surprisin'," Scrooge laughed. "Adventure's in our blood, after all."

"A seasoned adventurer, eh?" Genie reiterated. "Care to tell us some of your résumé?"

"Back home in Duckburg," Scrooge explained, "ye can't go a day without somethin' disturbin' the peace, from sorceresses to supervillains! I've also been around the world more than a few times. Even back in time! That was what inspired me to look out to discover other worlds: to try something new. That, and the business opportunities were certainly quite the glittering prize!"

"So you live here now?" Xander questioned.

"Well, not entirely," Scrooge explained. "This is a second home. Me true home is still in Duckburg. The boys have more of a fluid definition of home. I've looked after them for quite a while, but many a day, they're under Donald's care."

Donald muttered several unintelligible curses of anger under his breath to let the others know how he felt about having to look after Huey, Dewey, and Louie.

"How is the ice cream, by the way?" Scrooge asked. "Anything that requires improvement?"

"This tastes very good," Ren stated. "I don't see any room for improvement as being necessary."

"It's definitely delicious!" Cadance corroborated. "I'd say it's ready for the sales floor!"

"I'll give it an eleven out of ten!" Genie agreed.

Nick, Donald, and Xander gave their agreement while continuing to eat.

"Good!" Scrooge replied. "Without fresh flavors, the business would die out! I've got to keep rotating in new things! I've a list of all the delicacies enjoyed in the frozen treat business, but I think it best to start with the sweet flavors before introducing the likes of squid ink or garlic."

"Okay, that sounds disgusting," Nick said plainly.

"Ye'd be surprised who'd disagree with ya," Scrooge told him.

Genie shrugged. "I'd try it!"

"Just don't get rid of the sea salt!" Donald urged. "That's your most classic flavor!"

"Of course I wouldn't rotate out the sea salt!" Scrooge insisted. "D'ya take me for a fool? That's me best seller! Gettin' rid of sea salt would cause the business to plunge into the ground!"

"I've never had sea salt ice cream," Xander admitted. "It sounds exotic."

"Ye've got to try it sometime!" Scrooge urged. "They tell me it tastes nostalgic, like friendship. Not quite sure how ice cream can taste like friendship, but if it makes a profit, who am I to argue?"

"Is that how you can afford to live like this?" Cadance asked. "From the ice cream shop?"

"Well, I've got several business endeavors running here in town," Scrooge told her, "mostly to do with establishing inter-world banking, but the majority of this does come from the ice cream. I haven't even made a fraction of the fortune I keep back home in Duckburg, though."

"Then you must have an amazing life back in Duckburg," Xander pointed out.

Noting the bowls of the group were all empty, Scrooge suggested, "I could give ye a little tour and show ye the fruits of me labor if ye were interested."

"We'd love a tour!" Cadance said eagerly.

Within a few minutes, the group of seven was headed down to the basement levels. "I'm startin' with the most important piece of the manor," Scrooge announced, stopping before an enormous metal door. He entered a code into a keypad that sealed it; the door slid open, letting the group walk beyond. "This is what I've accumulated so far. Feast yer eyes!"

"Whoa," Xander, Nick, Genie, Cadance, and Ren said in unison. Donald had known what to expect and wasn't overly surprised.

They stood on a ledge overlooking an immense vault. Before them, filling up the vault, were millions of munny crystals, sparkling in the overhead lighting.

"You're very lucky," Cadance remarked as she took in the sight.

"It's only part luck," Scrooge assured her, "and part good business sense!"

"Yeah, yeah, everyone knows about the vault!" Donald complained. "It's no big deal!"

"This is a pretty big deal," Nick confirmed to him.

"Now," Scrooge bade the group, "ye won't go stealin' any when me back is turned, will ye?"

"Of course not!" Cadance asserted.

"We're the heroes, after all," Xander added. "We wouldn't do a thing like that."

"Heroes, eh?" Scrooge repeated. "What kind of heroes?"

"Lots of kinds of heroes," Ren explained. "We all have different stories."

Scrooge led them out of the vault as the metal door sealed behind them. "Do explain," he bade them. "I want to hear every bit of it on the course of this tour!"

...

The Gummi ship touched down on one of the outer islands of Jabberwock. Almost immediately, Kazuichi burst out of the door in order to unload the contents of his stomach into the ocean.

"You okay?" Ruby asked as she exited the ship after him.

Kazuichi gave her a weak thumbs-up as he stood shakily.

Sora, Papyrus, Stork, Katara, and Jasmine disembarked as well. "So this is your home," Jasmine observed.

"More like my prison," Kazuichi grumbled.

"You know," Sora remarked, "that sounds a lot like something I used to hear from someone I know."

"I'm glad to be back anyway," Kazuichi sighed. "I missed my friends. And I gotta let Miss Sonia know I'm okay. The only problem is now I'm gonna miss you guys, too. You really know how to make a guy's abduction and shuffle from world to world not so bad."

"That's kind of our job," Sora replied.

"Well, now that Leon put the ban on bringing home any new friends, that part of our job is going to have to come to an end," Stork pointed out.

"Which is really unfair," Katara asserted. "Just because it went badly one time! And we DO have the hourglass now!"

"Well, they were kind of right about me being one of the Norts," Kazuichi reminded her. "I almost was."

"I almost was, too," Sora contributed.

"Wait, really?" Kazuichi asked.

"Long story," Sora told him. "Maybe I'll tell it to you if we see each other again."

"I hope we can see each other again," Kazuichi said somberly. "Maybe with less crazy bullshit – nah, you know what? I was just starting to get used to the crazy bullshit."

"I'm gonna wait in the ship," Stork announced. "Keep her running for takeoff to Corona. I'm guessing the rest of you wanna walk Kazuichi to the hotel."

"Yeah," Ruby confirmed. "I wanna save that goodbye for later."

"So, uh…" Stork shuffled his feet. "It was nice meeting you. I'm guessing you want a romantic interest of some sort to come into my life, and I only bring this up because as much as you want that for me, I hope someday you meet the rocket ship of your dreams."

"Man, that means so much," Kazuichi replied, blinking rapidly and forcing himself not to tear up this soon. "Think of me next time you see a really cool airship, okay?"

"I can manage that," Stork replied. "Here's to friends you start out thinking are serial killers."

"Yeah," Kazuichi agreed with a nod.

"I'll see the rest of you in a few minutes," Stork said as he boarded the Gummi ship.

"Well," Sora told Kazuichi, "lead the way!"

Hajime, Fuyuhiko, Akane, and Sonia were once again gathered around the dining room table. "I tried sending his phone another text," Hajime announced. "It got bounced back again."

"I don't think he's gonna answer," Fuyuhiko said somberly.

"It doesn't seem likely," Hajime agreed. "But if I stopped trying, I'd be giving up hope. And Makoto wouldn't want me to give up hope. And…I don't think Chiaki would, either."

"Shouldn't we be worried about that guy that took him?" Akane brought up. "How did he just show up in the fucking room like that? Is he gonna come back for the rest of us?"

"We must protect each other," Sonia insisted. "Kazuichi thought to do what the rest of us did not. I am ashamed that I did not have the courage to volunteer my own self."

"Don't go beatin' yourself up about that!" Fuyuhiko barked. "You're right! We gotta protect each other! But next time, none of us is getting taken! Kazuichi took one for us, so we can't waste it!"

"Part of me still hopes against hope that he will come back," Sonia mourned. "He could be truly aggravating, but he meant well, and he was one of us. I keep thinking he will come up that stairway when we are least expecting it."

"That's not going to happen," Hajime told her. "If we really want him back…we're going to have to go out and look for him."

"How?" Akane asked. "We can't even leave this island without Future Foundation pointing all its guns at us."

"We'll ask Makoto," Hajime suggested. "He might know a way. I just know Kazuichi isn't going to magically appear in this room – "

"Did someone ask me to magically show up?"
The voice got all four heads to turn toward the stairway. Kazuichi stood at its top, giving his friends a toothy grin. "You guys sure set me up for one hell of an entrance," he remarked.

"KAZUICHI!" the four chorused, rushing to him, practically tackling him in a group hug.

"Whoa!" Kazuichi laughed. "Don't make it all awkward! Though I will say a hug from Miss Sonia is never awkward – "

"I even missed your unhealthily obsessive comments toward me!" Sonia admitted.

"Hey!" Kazuichi retorted. "Who's unhealthily obsessed?"

By that time, Sora, Ruby, Papyrus, Jasmine, and Katara had also entered the room. Hajime noticed them first, backing off from the collective embrace. "Who're you?" he asked accusatorily.

"They brought me home!" Kazuichi explained.

"Is that a…" Hajime looked directly to Papyrus. Once Fuyuhiko, Sonia, and Akane noticed him, they took a few steps backward.

"YES," Papyrus confirmed, "I AM A TALKING SKELETON. THAT SEEMS TO BE AN ODDITY ON MANY WORLDS. I CAN ASSURE YOU I MEAN YOU NO HARM."

"Many…worlds?" Sonia repeated.

"You wouldn't believe it!" Kazuichi said excitedly. "That guy who kidnapped me took me to a whole other world, and these guys saved me and brought me to another one! They have all these complicated adventures, and they have real magic out there!"

"It's true!" Sora confirmed.

"You're right," Fuyuhiko agreed. "I don't believe it."

"But Kazuichi would not lie to us about this," Sonia asserted.

"Yeah, it's pretty weird for most people to believe at first," Ruby assured, "but then they get over it eventually."

Sora put his hand out to Hajime. "I'm Sora," he said.

"I, uh…" Hajime gingerly shook Sora's hand. "Hajime Hinata."

"Ruby Rose!" Ruby introduced, putting out her hand toward Sonia. "And you've gotta be Sonia! Kazuichi was right; you are really pretty."

"Why, thank you," Sonia said as she shook Ruby's hand.

"THE GREAT PAPYRUS, AT YOUR SERVICE!" Papyrus introduced, stepping forward.

Fuyuhiko took his bony hand and shook it. "Fuyuhiko Kuzuryu," he replied with a smirk. "Not in need of anyone's service right now, but thanks for the offer anyway."

"My name is Jasmine," Jasmine volunteered as she stepped in.

Akane caught her hand up; "I'm Akane Owari!"

"I'm Katara," Katara said as she realized there was no one left for her to greet. She shrugged it off.

"Thanks for bringing Kazuichi back," Hajime told Sora. "And saving him from that guy."

"It's what we do!" Sora said proudly. "I'm just glad you could all get back together again. I would never wanna worry about a friend the way you all had to."

Kazuichi turned to face his five rescuers. "I, uh…I guess this is goodbye," he stated. "Thanks again for everything."

"We're really gonna miss you!" Ruby said passionately.

"I'm sure we'll see each other again," Sora promised. "I'll make sure it happens. It's just…too bad we couldn't spend more time together."

"The Committee's rule is worth breaking," Jasmine asserted. "But it is best that we got you home."

"Good luck out there," Kazuichi told them. "With all that stuff you have to do, and getting that sundrop before that Moze-guy does. And maybe…" A new thought was occurring to him. "Maybe…"

He turned back to look at Hajime, Akane, Fuyuhiko, and Sonia, taking note especially of the shine in the eyes of the last. "Would you guys have worried about me," he asked, "if you knew I was okay?"

"Well…" Hajime tried to form the best answer to the question.

"If we knew you were out there havin' a good time," Fuyuhiko said with a smile, "we wouldn't sweat it at all!"

"So long as you are safe," Sonia agreed.

"You know what?" Kazuichi said, a sudden surge of determination flowing through him. "No! I'm not staying here! I CAN'T stay here!" He turned back to Sora, Ruby, Papyrus, Jasmine, and Katara. "I'm going with you!"

"But why?" Jasmine asked. "This world is your home, and your friends – "

"Still have a big problem, remember?" Kazuichi reminded the group. "We've still got everyone sleeping underground who we have to wake up! Nobody knows how to do it here, but out there, you have magic and shit! You have all those different worlds! There've gotta be answers out there! Someone's gotta wake up all our friends, and I'm gonna be the one to do it!" He faced Hajime, Akane, Fuyuhiko, and Sonia once more. "You guys will be fine without me, right?"

"Yeah," Hajime said with a smile. "It's like Sonia and Fuyuhiko said. If we know you're fine, we won't be worried."

"I wanted to get off this island so bad anyway," Kazuichi reiterated. "Miss Sonia, maybe you could come with us, too!"

Sonia shook her head. "It is already strange enough that one of us will be missing when Makoto checks in next time. I do not think any more should go."

"Sonia's right," Hajime insisted. "If you're going to go, Kazuichi, the rest of us should stay."

"Are you sure you want the one who goes to be…well…you?" Akane asked. "You're not exactly the heroic type."

"I AM SO THE HEROIC TYPE!" Kazuichi insisted. "Now I gotta go just to prove that to all of you! You can all kick back and relax from now on, because I've got this! I'm gonna figure out a way to wake everyone up!" He fixed his gaze upon Sonia's eyes. "Even that stupid Gundham!"

Sonia was taken back to hear him speak of rescuing the man he had called a rival. "If you can," she said, "that would be a miracle."

"We'll all figure it out together!" Ruby cried.

"We do have a lot of things to balance," Jasmine reminded Kazuichi. "We might not be able to get to your friends right away."

"Yeah, I know," Kazuichi affirmed. "First, we gotta deal with the Norts and Moze-face. I'm all in!"

"We'll MAKE the Committee deal with having you on board!" Katara asserted.

"YOU'RE PART OF OUR TEAM NOW!" Papyrus declared.

"ENGINES REVVING!" Kazuichi confirmed.

Hajime clapped a hand on Kazuichi's shoulder. "Have fun out there," he directed.

"I knew I was gonna be saying goodbye to someone here," Kazuichi muttered. "I didn't think it would be you. Thanks, Hajime."

"For what?" Hajime asked.

"Well, if you hadn't taught me how to trust you back in Neo World," Kazuichi explained, "I wouldn't have been able to make any of my new friends."

"Well, you're welcome, I guess," Hajime said with a shrug.

"KAZUICHI GETS TO STAY WITH US!" Ruby screamed as she threw her arms around Kazuichi.

"Hey, stop that!" he complained. "You're choking me!"

Ruby eventually let go, and she, Sora, Papyrus, Jasmine, Katara, and even Kazuichi departed from the dining hall, waving their goodbyes to Hajime, Akane, Fuyuhiko, and Sonia.

"You really think he's gonna be okay?" Akane asked once the group was gone. "This is Kazuichi we're talking about."

"He'll be fine!" Fuyuhiko asserted. "He's a survivor like the rest of us!"

"Anyway," Hajime said, "we have to figure out what story we're going to tell Makoto."

"Why not the truth?" Sonia asked.

"I really don't think he'll buy it," Hajime told her.

From the pilot's seat of the ship, Stork heard the footsteps of his friends returning. He turned to address them and noticed Kazuichi among their number. "Um…" he commented, "what's going on?"

"We're going to Corona!" Sora asserted.

"Seriously?" Stork groaned.

"Is there a problem?" Katara asked sharply.

"What did we come here SPECIFICALLY to do?" Stork asked.

"Drop off Kazuichi," Ruby answered.

"And WHO just got back on my ship?" Stork continued.

"WE CAN'T JUST LEAVE HIM NOW!" Papyrus argued. "WHAT ABOUT HIS SLEEPING FRIENDS? WE HAVE TO FIND A WAY TO WAKE THEM UP!"

"I'm sure the Committee is going to understand that," Stork replied, "while they're making Kazuichi feel right at home by offering him A PITCHER OF MILK AND A PLATE OF COOKIES! WE ARE GOING TO GET IN SO MUCH TROUBLE WHEN WE SHOW BACK UP WITH HIM!"

"The Committee was wrong," Jasmine asserted. "We just have to find a way to make them see that."

Stork rolled his eyes. "Fine. FINE. We'll take him back."

"Hey, I thought you'd be happier to see me!" Kazuichi snapped.

"I'm not UNhappy," Stork sighed. "I'm just…well…if you all think this is the right move, I'm going to have to trust you."

"IT IS DEFINITELY THE RIGHT MOVE," Papyrus insisted.

Stork put the ship in gear. "Let's head out to Corona. Kazuichi, you realize that by coming with us, you're just signing yourself up to get repeatedly airsick, right?"

"I survived the first two rides," Kazuichi pointed out. "And if I'm gonna build rocket ships, I'm gonna have to get used to it anyway!"

"Then let's go," Stork declared, lifting the ship off from the island.

In no time at all, Kazuichi was back to laying on the floor, and everyone realized they'd rather have it no other way.

...

Fleeting as the glimpse was, the image of the Huntsman atop the roof did not leave Jake Long's mind throughout the school period of the next day. During lunch, he sat down and stirred the chicken and gravy on his tray without eating it, his mind elsewhere.

His reverie was only broken somewhat when Rose sat next to him. "Hey," the blonde greeted. "Rough day?"

"Yeah," Jake replied. "You?"

"I've been fine," Rose answered. "Less homework than usual. But what's wrong? Do you wanna talk about it?"
Rose's very presence at the school had been complicated. Thanks to a wish from Jake, she had lived out two lives, the latter overwriting the former in her timeline. Once, she had been the Huntsgirl, killer of magical creatures who had turned her views around and caused the end of the Huntsclan instead, wishing upon the crystal skulls to destroy them all. Jake had intercepted the skulls, granting her a life in which the Huntsclan had never captured her at birth, and she had lived out a tranquil life with her family, moving to Hong Kong. A fateful encounter with Jake had brought back her memories of that first life, reminding her not only of the atrocities she had endured and committed but also of the love she had felt for Jake as they had struggled to find peace. Once Jake had returned to America, Rose had discovered a foreign exchange program that would let her study at his school for a year, and took advantage of it, staying with a host family. Even though they knew their time together was temporary before they would have to navigate a long-distance relationship, Jake and Rose had made the most of their proximity, growing closer than ever.

Jake thought, at first, that he couldn't simply bring up the Huntsman again to Rose. She would be reminded of the abuse she had suffered at his hands and the things she had done that had, miraculously, been taken back, but still made a nest in her memory. Especially not for a fluke. "Nah, not really," he answered, still stirring his food.

Trixie Carter and Arthur "Spud" Spudinski settled in across from Jake and Rose at the table. "You still feeling weird?" Spud asked Jake, having been in class with him earlier to notice.

"It's nothing," Jake said, eyes still down on his tray.

"It is not nothing," Trixie insisted. "Jakie, you've been actin' weird all day!"

"He's been like this all day?" Rose reiterated. "Jake, there is seriously something wrong. You know you can tell us anything."

"I dunno about this," Jake moaned.

"At least eat something," Rose encouraged. "You have to have SOME food in your system."

"I dunno," Spud broke in, poking at his food. "This might not really count as 'food.'"

"Okay, that's fair," Rose admitted.

"I am not gonna deal with you mopin' around all day and not tellin' us what's wrong!" Trixie insisted. "Tell. Us. What. Happened!"

"All right, all right," Jake relented. "I'm just…not sure if it even was anything. I might've just been seeing things. I just saw something last night that I COULDN'T have seen."

"Like what?" Rose asked in concern.

"Like…" Jake trailed off, turning to look Rose in the eye and finding himself unable to form the words.

"This…has something to do with me, doesn't it?" Rose realized. "Then that's all the more reason I need to know."

"Like I said, it was probably just a hallucination," Jake continued. "I'm surprised I didn't have one of this exact thing before. But it's the fact that I never DID that's getting to me."

"Did you see an army of clowns?" Spud asked. "Because I know if I ever thought I saw an army of clowns, that would throw me off all day."

"No," Jake said somberly, looking around at the group. Lowering his voice, he admitted, "Last night, I thought I saw the Huntsman."

"Whaaaaat?" Trixie replied.

Spud flinched, but Rose was unmoved, simply nodding.

"That can't be right," Spud babbled. "There's no Huntsclan anymore! Rose wished them all off the face of the earth! They're all gone!"

"Exactly," Jake affirmed. "Which is why this is probably nothing. It just…keeps bugging me. Like maybe I shouldn't write it off."

"But there ain't no way to bring anybody back from the dead!" Trixie insisted.

"That's not entirely true," Rose argued. "Remember when you fought the Huntsman over the scarab? That beetle had the power to bring former members of the Huntsclan back to life."

"So you're saying it COULD have been the Huntsman?" Jake said in a sudden panic. "For REAL?"

"I'm saying I don't know," Rose admitted. "It might have just been a trick of the light. But if you have a feeling like you shouldn't write it off, well, maybe that means something."

"I don't wanna fight the Huntsman again!" Jake moaned.

"Why not?" Spud countered. "You did kick his butt all the other times."

"Yeah," Jake agreed, "but that still means he's BACK. What's gonna happen to the whole magical world if it really is him?"

"Uh-oh," Trixie said suddenly.

"What's uh-oh?" Jake asked. "WHAT IS UH-OH?"

"Well…I just thought of somethin'," Trixie admitted. "Somethin' you don't wanna hear."

"I think we NEED to hear it," Rose told her.

"Well, it's just like this," Trixie explained. "The Huntsclan was just the people with those dragon birthmarks. But they mighta had copycats who never got the mark. What if somebody who just really liked the Huntsclan found the last Huntsman's outfit?"

"A new Huntsman!" Spud realized. "Why didn't we think of it before? This kind of thing happens all the time with comic book supervillains!"

"Aw, maaaan…" Jake pushed aside his tray to drop his head on his arms on the table. "I thought things were gonna be so much better for everyone once that guy was gone. And now he's either back from the dead or he has a copycat."

"Or it was just something you thought you saw," Rose reminded him. "But no matter what, if you have to fight, I'll be right there with you."

"I couldn't ask you to fight the Huntsclan again," Jake told her.

"I know," Rose replied. "Which is why I volunteered. We're in this together."

"This is why you two are a power couple," Spud commented.

"No matter what, things are gonna turn out okay," Rose insisted.

"You think?" Jake asked.

"I know," Rose told him.

Jake straightened up, starting to eat. "This really doesn't count as food, you know," he said around a full mouth.

The rest of the school day passed by in relative peace; then Jake, Rose, Trixie, and Spud found themselves walking home through the city.

"That last Rotwood lecture was actually surprisingly accurate," Rose laughed.

"I swear, now that he's actually making peace with the magical world, he's been surprisingly responsible about it," Jake agreed. "I wonder how much effort it took him to admit he didn't actually know anything."

"I'm just glad it's showin' up in our grades!" Trixie declared.

That was when the pair rushed in and accosted Jake, each person grabbing one of his arms as they hurried him into a nearby alley. "HEY!" Jake cried as he was abducted.

"JAKE!" Trixie and Spud cried as one.

Rose took the lead, charging after the kidnappers. Trixie and Spud followed as she hustled down the alley, spotting Jake and the dual abductors standing at its end. Flipping into a handspring to give a preview of what she could do, Rose landed in a defensive position, hand outward. "Let him go," she warned.

"Rose, it's okay!" Jake said hurriedly. "It's just the Oracle Twins!"

"Huh?" Rose took a better look at the situation; Trixie and Spud had arrived behind her, now seeing what she saw. Jake had been dragged down the alley by the clairvoyants Sara and Kara. While both girls were natural redheads, each had gone through a phase where she had changed the color of her hair to reflect her personality. Sara, ever chipper and agreeable due to being plagued with visions of negative outcomes that replayed in her nightmares and made her grateful for even the least bit of good, still had blonde streaks in her hair, though it had mostly faded back to orange. Kara kept up dyeing hers raven-black to match the inner emptiness she felt from seeing nothing but positivity in her visions, this having dulled her lust for the actual good in life.

"Hey, long time, no see!" Spud greeted, waving cheerily.

"Hiiiii!" Sara cried, waving back. "It's a party! EVERYONE'S here!"

"We didn't come to hang out," Kara grumbled.

"What's going on?" Rose asked.

"We had something important to tell Jake," Kara spat. "Something I know he's not gonna wanna hear."

"Huh?" Jake replied. "What is it? Awww, it better not be what I think it iiiiiis…"

"Go ahead, Sara," Kara grunted. "It was YOUR vision."

"Guess what?" Sara led in as though urging Jake to think a pleasant surprise was coming. "According to my visions, the Huntsman is back, and he's going to round up a whole bunch of people to try and root out every magical creature in Central Park and hunt them all down tonight! Talk about the plot twist of the century!"

"No!" Jake moaned. "It was just supposed to be a fluke! I don't want him to be back!"

"Is it the same one we knew?" Rose asked. "Or a copycat?"

"Hmmm," Sara realized, "I don't actually know! All I saw was the cape and the helmet, and we all know what that means!"

"Yeah, we do," Jake grunted. "Kara? Do we beat him? Did you see?"

"Neither of us saw anything like that," Kara grunted. "We don't know if he beats us or we beat him."

"Great," Jake groaned. "I guess we can add the Huntsclan back to our list." He suddenly brightened; "Though now, we know the first place he's going to strike. We can get ahead of him!"

"How are you gonna get AHEAD of him?" Trixie asked.

"I don't know how you wanna do it," Sara chimed in, "but you'd better figure out something, because he has a loooooot of people with him! Or at least, he will tonight!"

"Don't even try and talk me out of fighting alongside you," Rose insisted. "I'm going to be there no matter what."

"Us against an entire new Huntsclan?" Jake mused. "I mean, I've fought a lot of them at once before, but that just makes it harder. I'm starting to wonder, though."

"Wonder what?" Rose asked.

"I can think of a few other people who'd want to get a little payback at the Huntsman," Jake realized. "If he's bringing an army, we can bring one of our own."

Rose nodded. "The more people we can get on our side, the faster we can make him not ever want to mess with us again."

Jake whipped out his phone, dialing a number. "I'm telling Grandpa I'm gonna be late getting home," he announced. "We have some stops to make."

...

Corona was, simply put, gorgeous. The wonderfully clear weather, warm punctuated with a light breeze, was the cherry on top of the cheerily designed buildings situated on the hill leading up to the magnificent castle.

"It's so beautiful," Katara observed.

"It's pretty neat!" Sora agreed.

"DEFINITELY A SIGHT TO BEHOLD!" Papyrus concurred.

"It's like something straight out of a fairy tale," Kazuichi observed. "Could use some more tech, though. How much trouble do you think we'd get in if we introduced these people to cars?"

"Let's not go there," Stork suggested.

"So where do we start?" Ruby asked.

"Well," Jasmine suggested, "if we just take a look around town, we're bound to find something that can show us the way."

"WHY NOT WALK RIGHT UP TO THE CASTLE?" Papyrus asked.

"I have seen guards everywhere," Stork said hushedly, watching another patrol of golden-helmeted men walk down a side street. "This seems like a high-security kingdom. I'm guessing they won't take well to strangers."

"It's not like they don't know we're here," Kazuichi pointed out. "People are already staring."

It was true; every now and then, someone would catch sight of the group and either move on quickly or whisper to a friend.

"It seems to be all humans here," Stork observed. "I'm guessing they're talking about me and Papyrus. And probably writing us off as really convincing costumes."

"IT'S A PITY," Papyrus sighed. "I WAS HOPING PERHAPS THIS WOULD BE A WORLD THAT WOULD RECOGNIZE MONSTERS."

"There are plenty of worlds out there that do," Sora promised. "Worlds where there aren't even any humans at all!"

"But for now," Jasmine said, "if anyone has a complaint, we'll just have to make them see that there are people out there who are different, and they just need to accept that."

Ruby suddenly halted, catching a scent in the air. "Waaaaaiiiit a minute…" She veered off course, following her nose to a building whose sign proclaimed it to be named "Atilla the Bun." "There's something delicious in here," she said before disappearing into the shop.

"Hey, wait up!" Kazuichi called after her; he followed, bringing the others in tow.

Ruby had found a bakery laden with pastries of all sorts: cream puffs, cupcakes, éclairs, and sweets she didn't even recognize. She surged right up to the counter, greeting "Hi!" to the owner.

The owner, a tall, bulky man whose horned helmet obscured his face, turned to see her. "Hello," he said in a tone that was gruff but not unfriendly. "Can I help you get anything?"

"YES!" Ruby squealed.

Kazuichi stepped in right next to her. "Don't leave me out of this!" he insisted. "This stuff looks delicious!"

"I'll take one of those cupcakes with a strawberry on top," Ruby said, pointing, "and one cream puff."

"Aw, Ruby!" Kazuichi told her. "You didn't have to buy me anything!"

Ruby looked at him blankly before saying, "Both of those are for me."

"Oh," Kazuichi said in realization. "Well, then, I'll have one of those chocolate bun things."

"One cupcake, one cream puff, and one éclair, coming up!" Attila proclaimed, moving about the shop to gather the orders. It was good to get some business rolling in. The previous day, he'd suffered a hit to his profits when an entire order of cupcakes had simply gone missing; he suspected a thief.

"Do you really think you should be eating that much sugar?" Katara asked Ruby. "One dessert would be fine, but two is a lot!"

"Um, do YOU really think you're my MOM?" Ruby retorted, growing a little frustrated. "I can eat what I want! I'm a grown-up!"

"No, you're not," Katara told her, "and even grown-ups have their limits – "

"STOP TELLING ME WHAT I CAN AND CAN'T EAT!" Ruby shrieked.

"I'm just gonna…" Kazuichi backed off slowly. "Not…make this worse…"

"Hey," Sora brought up as Attila rang up the purchases, "you wouldn't happen to know anything about a sundrop, would you?"

"A sundrop?" Attila repeated. "Like the one that healed the queen when she was giving birth to Rapunzel?"

"That sounds right!" Sora confirmed.

"That's about all I know about that story," Attila confessed. "You wanna know who knows everything there is to know around here, though? You should talk to Xavier the blacksmith. I bet he knows how that sundrop story turned out."

"Thank you," Jasmine replied. "You're very kind."

"Well, you're welcome," Attila said somewhat bashfully.

"You're also not half as scary as you look," Stork told him.

"Thanks!" Attila said sincerely while giving Stork a thumbs-up.

They departed the bakery, Ruby and Kazuichi happily gnawing on their treats. "So we're looking for Xavier now," Sora reiterated.

"ALLOW ME TO ASK FOR DIRECTIONS!" Papyrus decided. He stepped in front of a pair of young Coronans; "EXCUSE ME! WHICH WAY IS IT TO XAVIER THE BLACKSMITH?"

"Whoa," one of the children said, pointing at Papyrus. "Cool costume!"

So that was what they thought of him, and probably Stork. "ER…THANK…YOU?" Papyrus replied, rather dismayed.

"How'd you get it to look so real?" the child went on.

"THROUGH THE LONG AND DIFFICULT PROCESS OF NOT BEING RELEVANT TO THIS CONVERSATION!" Papyrus replied. "COULD YOU PLEASE TELL US WHICH WAY TO XAVIER?"

"Yeah," the other child said. "His shop is up the hill, that way." She pointed.

"THANK YOU!" Papyrus told them. "YOUR KINDNESS WILL BE REMEMBERED ON BEHALF OF ALL OF RADIANT GARDEN!"

The children ran away laughing, sure Papyrus was part of some intricate roleplay or theater production.

"THEY REALLY DON'T UNDERSTAND, DO THEY?" Papyrus sighed.

Sora approached him and patted him sympathetically on the back. "Maybe one day they will here," he suggested. "After the worlds get to know each other better."

"You really think that's a good idea?" Stork asked.

"Why not?" Sora replied. "Everyone can make friends on other worlds if they learn they're out there! We'll all be better together!"

"I agree," Jasmine stated.

"And high-tech worlds can show the other worlds cars!" Kazuichi chimed in.

"Not really the priority here," Stork told him.

"It's going to take something pretty big to get all the worlds to know about each other," Katara pointed out. "I'm not sure it'll ever happen."

"Well, I think it will," Sora told her. "Look at us! We're the start of it!"

Everyone else concurred that this group, at least, was a demonstration of how the worlds could mingle.

They followed the child's directions as far as they could; once they got lost, Jasmine took over the next ask for directions, and Papyrus the next after that. Eventually, they made it to the forge, which radiated heat as its wares were hung up on display in the street.

"OHMYGOSHOHMYGOSHOHMYGOOOOOOSH!" Ruby zipped to a rack of shining swords. "CLASSICS!"

A quite large man with a striking white beard approached Ruby from the other side. "I see you like my swords," he said with a smile.

"I LOVE these!" Ruby squealed. Then: "Waaaiiiit. YOU made these swords?" Her eyes positively sparkled.

"I sure did," the man confirmed.

"THEN THAT MUST MEAN – " Papyrus looked to Sora.

"Only one thing!" Sora said in return.

Together, Papyrus and Sora looked back to the man, and said as one, "YOU MAKE OTHER COOL WEAPONS, TOO!"

"Does that maybe tell you anything ELSE about him?" Stork groaned.

"Uhhh…" Sora scratched his head.

"NOTHING IS COMING TO MIND," Papyrus admitted.

"XAVIER!" Stork cried. "HE'S XAVIER!"

"OHHHHH," Sora and Papyrus realized.

"Sometimes," Stork grumbled, "I can NOT believe you – " He decided that thought was better left unfinished. "Never mind."

Sora and Papyrus both had a good idea of what he was about to say, and had they not known there were more pressing conversational concerns, they would have brought up that they both felt slightly hurt by the implication.

"I take it you were looking for me," Xavier said jovially.

"We were," Jasmine confirmed, stepping forth. "The baker down the hill told us you're knowledgeable about the legends of this kingdom."

"I know a thing or two," Xavier confirmed. "What did you want to know?"

"We're actually looking for the sundrop of Corona," Jasmine explained.

"And why would a person be looking for a thing like that?" Xavier asked.

"We're afraid it might fall into the wrong hands," Jasmine told him.

Xavier smiled at her. "You know," he said, "there's something about you I just can't help but trust. But you should know she's not just gonna let the wrong people take her without a fight."

"She?" Jasmine repeated.

"How much do you know about that sundrop?" Xavier asked.

"We heard it was used by the queen when she was giving birth," Jasmine related.

"To somebody named 'Rapunzel'!" Sora chimed in.

"You're not from around here, are you?" Xavier asked.

"Well, no," Sora admitted.

"I figured as much," Xavier said with a wink, looking to Stork and Papyrus. "You probably had a long journey."

Papyrus then realized that Xavier saw Papyrus and Stork for what they were, and he was still speaking to them with a smile. This warmed his heart.

"If you were from around here," Xavier continued, "you'd know that Rapunzel is the princess of Corona. And a kind person she is. We're lucky that the throne is in her hands someday. But she's got a long way to go before she gets there. Rapunzel happens to be an acquaintance of mine, and whenever she talks, I can see it in her eyes. That sundrop went into her when the queen gave birth. She is the sundrop."

"The sundrop is a PERSON?" Sora said in awe.

"Oh," Stork remarked, "that's bad."

"This does make things more complicated," Jasmine admitted. "The person we were worrying about wouldn't be kind to her at all. She might be in danger."

"She's good at taking care of herself," Xavier explained, "though a little extra help wouldn't hurt. King Frederic announced that she left the kingdom to follow her destiny. Now, no one's quite sure what that is, but I've got a feeling it has something to do with the black rocks. Old Corona was plagued with a whole bunch of sharp black rocks that sprouted up when the sundrop flower was first picked. Not too long ago, they apparently calmed down and formed something that looked like a road. If I had to guess, I'd say Rapunzel went down that road. But that was a while ago. You'd have a ways to catch up."

"Oh, we can catch up," Stork said slyly, thinking of the Gummi ship.

"Where did the road lead?" Jasmine asked.

"In the end?" Xavier replied. "No one knows. But it was headed in the general direction of the city of Vardaros. I'd be willing to bet Rapunzel made a stop there if you wanted to check in with her. Hurry and you just might catch her there. I'd be careful, though. Vardaros has both a good and a bad reputation."

"We can handle it!" Sora declared proudly.

"Thank you," Jasmine told Xavier. "You've been a big help."

"Now, mind you," Xavier said, "I wouldn't have told you any of this if I didn't think you could be trusted. But my gut's never been wrong yet. Something tells me you're here to do good. And because of that, you're welcome."

"We should go, then," Jasmine declared.

"Waitwaitwait!" Ruby cried. "What about Kazuichi?"

"What ABOUT me?" Kazuichi asked.

"You don't have a weapon," Ruby reminded him, "and if Mozenrath got to Rapunzel before us, we're gonna need to fight to protect her! We should at least get you a sword! Or something cool like an axe!"

"I don't know how to wield anything like that!" Kazuichi responded in a panic. "And I think you're just using me as an excuse to get a weapon!"

"YOU PROBABLY SHOULD HAVE A WAY TO DEFEND YOURSELF," Papyrus pointed out.

"But giving him a sword he doesn't know how to use would do more harm than good," Katara argued. "He could hurt himself with it!"

"I wouldn't be THAT bad with it," Kazuichi huffed. "I'm still not a big fan of the idea, though. If I'm going to get a weapon, it should be something more…well…me!"

"You don't really seem like a sword guy or an axe guy," Sora observed. "We'll think about it some more."

"You don't have to fight for now," Jasmine assured Kazuichi. "We can handle the heavy lifting."

"I don't want the princess to get taken away because of me, though," Kazuichi said despondently.

"It won't happen!" Sora assured him. "We'll save her no matter what! Now let's get going to Vardaros!" He paused. "Um…which way is Vardaros?"

"There's a shop three blocks down that can sell you a map," Xavier said with a smile.

"LET'S GO!" Ruby cried, taking off at a run before once more realizing her mistake and returning to the group. "Walking," she said meekly.

...

Once the sun had set, the Huntsman returned to the garage of the Smith in full garb, head and face covered. He was glad to note that others were filing in at the same time as him. They turned to regard him as he passed; with his helmet on, he cut an impressive figure, and everyone recognized him as the leader of the pack.

The Smith passed out black iron spears with gems set in their handles to everyone who entered. Between himself and the Huntsman, they had rounded up a full outfit of thirty, counting the Smith. Every spear got an owner, with no one wanting for a weapon.

The Huntsman took his place at the end of the garage, where the others all fixed their eyes upon him. He had asked them all to come masked, and they had done so, albeit in crude, mismatched ways ranging from Halloween leftovers to simple bandannas tied around the lower half of the face. The Smith had procured a masquerade mask for himself, plain black; even though he and the Huntsman had seen each other's face, he recognized the paradigm shift that required them both to act as though they had not.

The crowd waited quietly, without a murmur. Only five were women, the Huntsman noted as he scanned them. "You all know why you have come here," he announced, projecting his voice across the garage.

He was met with silence, but it was the sort of silence that conveyed affirmation.

"We share a common desire," the Huntsman stated. "The desire to rid this world of the creatures that poison it. In days past, I only trusted the elite, those born with the dragon mark upon their bodies, to carry out our mission. Now, however, I find myself without their forces. The task now falls to you. You must carry the strength within your spirits to make up for the lack of the mark. You must be prepared to wield the spear you carry into battle. If any of you feels as though you are not adequate, leave now. There will be no weakness among this army."

The thirty stood still, fixing determined glares upon the Huntsman. Good, he thought. This was an admirable team. "We strike tonight in Central Park," he explained. "We are to begin by rooting out every magical creature we find. And we will find a great many within the park. It is practically a breeding ground. Their peril will draw out the American Dragon from hiding, and once it does, our goal becomes singular: to slay the dragon. Is this clear?"

"YES!" the crowd barked in unison.

"SLAY THE DRAGON!" the Huntsman cried, lifting the huntstaff high.

The crowd followed suit with their spears, turning the Huntsman's cry into a chant: "SLAY THE DRAGON! SLAY THE DRAGON!"

Already, listening to their repetition, the Huntsman felt secure in his decision. Failure hardly seemed like a possibility. All that was needed was loyalty and common ground. Friendship was not even part of the equation.

"WE MOVE!" the Huntsman bellowed, pointing his staff toward the far door.

The crowd immediately turned to quickly filter out. Under cover of the night, the new Huntsclan, as the Huntsman was already beginning to think of them, was on the move toward Central Park.

...

"There it is," Gothel announced as the four horses neared a sprawling city situated in the midst of a canyon. "Vardaros. Dreadful place."

"Actually," Hans remarked, looking over the general brown aesthetic of the metropolitan area, "this is a lot less of an eyesore than Corona was."

"It's almost pleasant," Snatcher agreed.

"We should walk from here," Gothel suggested. "You don't want to take a horse into city traffic."

Gothel, Snatcher, Hans, Demyx, and Roman dismounted, and the horses were tethered to a nearby post. As they continued on their way into the city, they happened to catch a rather odd duo on their way out.

They moved furtively, hoping not to be spotted as they made their escape. One was slight, with a honey-colored ponytail flowing from beneath his tall, pointed black hat; his face was sharp, with one eye swollen shut in what seemed to be a permanent fixture. The other was tall and bulky, his face hidden beneath a metal mask that left not an inch visible.

The pair glanced behind them at Vardaros as they made their getaway; Roman took advantage of this, extending the Cudgel before the skinny one. The target tripped, his larger companion not even stopping to assist him and keeping on running instead.

"Well, well," Snatcher remarked as he and his four assembled around the fallen runner. "In quite a hurry to leave Vardaros, aren't we?" He assumed Roman had stymied the man for more than just amusement; he knew Snatcher would want him as a source of information. It was almost frustrating how Snatcher recognized Roman was still on the same page as him.

"You leave me alone," the man growled. "You don't know who you're dealin' with."

Gothel gave a sharp laugh at that. "It's five against one," she reminded the man. "If you're looking for a fight, you picked the wrong place, the wrong time, and the wrong people."

The thin man gave a snarl at that, knowing he couldn't argue against that logic.

"Something tells me we've run into exactly the right person," Hans mused. "Someone this feisty has to be part of the city's seedy underbelly."

"Your deductive reasoning has yet to be improved, Mr. Westergard," Snatcher replied. "Given this man's reaction to threaten us immediately, one can easily tell he is, in actuality, involved in some sort of unsavory activity where he holds – or held – a position of power. Given his rushed escape, my instincts suggest to me the latter."

"That is seriously what I just said," Hans growled, "rephrased."

"Now, then." Snatcher nudged the thin man's chin upward with the toe of his shoe. "Who, exactly, ARE we dealing with?"

"Anthony the Weasel," the thin man growled. "And I'll have you know I'm one of the inner circle of the Baron."

"I've heard the name of the Baron thrown around," Gothel realized. "He's known as far as Corona. Just a crime boss. They come and go."

"Where's the Baron to save you now, huh?" Demyx taunted.

"He fell prey to a minor setback," the Weasel (and how appropriate that name was, Snatcher thought, the more he looked at the man) related. "But mark my words, he'll be back again to seize control of Vardaros! Him and Stalyan both!"

"So this Baron has also left Vardaros," Snatcher deduced. "As have multiple of his associates. The Stallion and yourself." Upon hearing the name of the Baron's daughter, his mind immediately assumed it was spelled in the way of the horse, and went on to hypothesize that the Baron's entire coterie had animal names of some sort: the Stallion, the Weasel. "Who, might I ask, is running the city as we speak?"

"No one in the way the Baron did," the Weasel spat. "No one in the way he will again. First things first, we've got to get rid of that Quaid…and snuff out that pretentious princess."

"Why am I not surprised Rapunzel is up to trouble again?" Gothel sighed. "After all my work, that girl still doesn't know how to behave!"

"So who's Quaid?" Demyx asked.

"Captain of law enforcement," the Weasel growled. "Past his prime. We should've been able to take him out easily. And we'll do so when the Baron returns."

"From what I can glean," Snatcher stated, "this Baron's fall has left quite the power vacuum in Vardaros' criminal sect, hasn't it?"

"And you intend to fill it?" the Weasel guessed.

"Smart man," Snatcher told him.

"You won't succeed where the Baron failed," the Weasel warned. "Then again…you won't even get past me."

He leapt to his feet in a blink, drawing a knife and plunging it toward Snatcher. Snatcher, having suspected the Weasel would try such a move, had been standing with one foot planted behind the other; he pivoted, twirling gracefully out of the knife's trajectory. Hans kicked his knee upward into the Weasel's stomach while Gothel seized his knife arm, holding it up the man's back while Roman playfully plucked the knife away.

"I respectfully beg to differ, Mr. Weasel," Snatcher stated. "We've strength you don't understand. Mr. Demyx, would you give him a slight demonstration to send him on his way?"

"You're gonna wanna move out of the way," Demyx told Gothel rather sheepishly.

She let go of the Weasel, who turned to Demyx, drawing back his fist; Demyx's sitar had already materialized.

A chord of music sent a wave of water crashing into the Weasel, washing him further down the road. Now thoroughly panicked, never having seen someone command water itself before, the Weasel turned to run; Demyx sent several geysers of water after him to hasten his speed.

"I daresay we have learned something quite valuable about this city," Snatcher remarked.

"You put him in his place and got what you wanted," Gothel said admiringly. "I like that."

Snatcher hoped he wasn't reading from her tone what he thought he was reading. "Shall we proceed, then?" he suggested.

The five moved further into the city, staking out a particularly shadowy alley to use as a temporary base. Barrels lined either side of the alley, and Snatcher, thinking them fine seats, took a sitting position on one of them.

"You know, I can see this punchline coming from a mile away," Hans said smugly as he took his own seat across from Snatcher. "There's no way that barrel can hold your weigh – "

That was exactly when Hans' barrel gave way under him, causing Hans to fall into it. Demyx was immediately moved to laughter.

"Demyx," Hans grunted as he attempted to escape the barrel; Snatcher, Roman, and Gothel were making no move to help him. "You're supposed to be on my side here."

Roman and Gothel took seats to either side of Snatcher, albeit Roman's was a good distance away; their barrels all held strong. Demyx simply leaned up against the wall. Once Hans had ditched the remains of his barrel, he took a similar position near Demyx. "So let me guess," Hans groaned. "This is the part where Archibald decides he immediately has the best plan and orders us all around, completely missing the point of this mission in the first place."

"The point of this mission is to retrieve the sundrop," Snatcher growled. "And once more, I demand you refer to me by my surname."

"Once more, I demand you use my title," Hans rebutted. "And half the point of this mission was for us to get along."

"A goal we are never to reach so long as you and Mr. Demyx remain part of this operation," Snatcher argued.

"Here's the thing," Hans told him. "Neither of us tried to humiliate, possibly murder, you in public and then recorded the results to throw in your face later."

Roman gritted his teeth and gave Hans an incredibly sour look.

"Torchwick's wrongdoings will be dealt with later," Snatcher snapped. "At least I know he can be reasoned with. The two of you, on the other hand, do as you please with little regard to the notion of respect."

"It's not my fault you're offended by everything," Hans argued.

"I sensed there was some tension here," Gothel commented. "Is this going to get awkward?"

"No more than it has been," Snatcher said in a surly tone.

"You think we're the ones not doing any work to help the group get along?" Hans accused. "YOU'RE the one who hasn't even been giving us an inch to move. You've been rephrasing my ideas so it sounds like you had them! And you're not even convincing!"

"My dues," Snatcher told him, "for having to endure constant insults from you."

"What is even your problem?" Hans asked.

"My problem is YOU!" Snatcher stood up straight to look Hans in the eye. "You, the both of you, have instigated every single incident that has brought us to our current situation! Blame us all you wish for our reactions, but you knew quite well how we would respond to your antics! For what reason, exactly, did you wish to bring that out of us? For a laugh? For a lark? Out of genuine hatred? If you're so determined to see this mission through in entirety, then I demand an answer!"

For a moment, Hans and Demyx were silent. Then Demyx muttered, "I'm doing my best for the guy that didn't ask to join in the first place."

"You've done your best, all right," Snatcher argued. "Your best at undermining us!"

"Geez, I didn't know you were so sensitive about it," Demyx groaned.

"I am not SENSITIVE!" Snatcher roared. "Not in any sense of the word! I have simply spent far too long listening to the likes of you repeat the insults I've heard my whole life, and if that's what you mean to make of this alliance, I won't stand for it in the slightest!"

"That really sounds like you're being sensitive," Demyx pointed out. "Do you have some issues here, or…?"

"I REFUSE TO DISCUSS ANYTHING OF THE SORT WITH THE LIKES OF YOU!" Snatcher barked. "I PUT THE LIKES OF YOU BEHIND ME LONG AGO, AND I WILL NOT PUT UP WITH ENDURING IT ALL OVER AGAIN!"

There was a silence before Hans said, "You're not the only one who had to put the past behind him, you know."

"Like the Organization," Demyx sighed. "Which this is turning out to be all over again."

"If this problem has happened to you not once, but twice," Snatcher stated, "then the problem most certainly lies with you."

"Look," Hans broke in. "Demyx is…free-spirited."

"I can tell by the way he refuses to pull his weight," Snatcher grunted.

"I don't think he was actually trying to hurt anyone," Hans argued. "Maybe he didn't go about having fun in the nicest way. But he was just – "

"No, no," Demyx sighed, "it's totally me. I don't do well on teams, remember? I just thought this time, it would be different from the Organization, because back there, everyone was just wrapped up in their little angst zone. I dunno, I thought it' be a different story with you guys."

"If I can make a suggestion?" Gothel chimed in. "I think I know what his problem is."

"Huh?" Demyx did a double take.

"Well, obviously he didn't like anyone in his last Organization," Gothel said, "and everyone was so focused on themselves – "

"He'd think his actions had no consequences," Snatcher realized. "Of course, of course. Never given a REASON to respect anyone."

"I'm right here, you know!" Demyx sputtered.

"Did they even so much as threaten you for getting things wrong?" Gothel asked.

"Nah," Demyx confirmed. "Xemnas was always too busy monologuing at the moon to pay any attention to – hey, wait a minute! You don't get to tell me about me!"

"It seems simple enough to me," Gothel said. "If you want things to be like they were in the Organization, keep being an idiot. But if you want things to be different, YOU'RE going to have to be different."

"Quite that," Snatcher agreed. "Exactly. Most astute, Miss Gothel."

"Wait," Demyx said, "so if I stop pulling pranks on you guys, you guys might actually like me. Legitimately like me."

"AND do your share of work," Snatcher reminded him. "A category in which you fail most dreadfully."

"I'll think about it," Demyx said. "But I make no promises."

"As for you, Mr. Westergard," Snatcher said, rounding on his next opponent, "what excuse do you have to offer?"

"Same as Demyx," Hans stated. "Trying to fit in."

"Through insults and disrespect."

"Trying to fit in and make a name for myself," Hans clarified. "Look. I get it. I'm not founder-level. But I'm not a grunt, either. I'm worth way more than you take me for."

"Strong words," Snatcher told him, "given that we only met you some short days ago. You've yet to prove ANYTHING to us of your worth."

"Look, my whole life has been trying to prove my worth," Hans said sternly. "I've been trying to figure out where I can hold actual power since day one. You don't know what I've been through. You can't understand how I've been turned down over and over and over again."

"Being turned down from a position of power is my life, Mr. Westergard," Snatcher rebutted. "If you mean to insinuate I cannot understand that, you'd best start coming up with better excuses."

"My own family wouldn't even let me in," Hans went on. "They shut me out at every turn. From my brothers pretending I didn't exist to my parents wishing I was someone else. I got told point-blank by my father that so long as I was what I was, I would never see the throne, not even if everyone else in my family died all at once and left me next in line, and oh, believe me, I thought about making that a reality. That's when I got the idea to seduce my way into someone else's throne. Not only would I get what I wanted, but my parents would finally have the son they wanted when they saw me with a queen. I even went right for Elsa, and everyone KNEW how she felt about people like me. It took me years to figure out it was them who were wrong and that I wasn't some freak of nature just because I was gay."

Snatcher had to admit he hadn't seen that coming. Of course he had known Hans was attracted to men; he was outright dating Mozenrath. And he had assumed Hans had little to no interest in women. Yet it never occurred to him that Hans' story and Snatcher's might be so similar. "I, er…I understand that quite well," Snatcher admitted. "Better than you'd think."

Hans looked at him with curiosity then. "You too?"

"I kept it secret from all but those I trusted," Snatcher told him. "I knew quite well that once it got out, I was ruined."

"I should've done that from the start," Hans sighed. "Would've made things a lot easier."

"We needn't concern ourselves with them," Snatcher grunted.

"I know that now," Hans told him. "But you get it now, right? Why I need this. Why I need to be more than just your underling."

"Why you resent us, you mean," Snatcher clarified.

"Admittedly…yes," Hans said gruffly.

"You're not excused from acting out," Snatcher told him. "But it does cast things in a clearer light now."

"How'd you figure it out?" Hans asked. "That everyone else didn't really matter."

"Learning the hard way, at first," Snatcher replied. "Then hearing from – "

Roman perked up with attention.

" – from someone trusted," Snatcher finished, "that the ones who kept me down were insignificant."

Roman leaned back against the wall, feeling rather smug that he'd at least been referenced in that way.

"So that's what you meant," Hans realized. "When you said you wouldn't put up with 'the likes of us' again. You've heard it all before. People making fun of you."

"I have," Snatcher said coldly.

"Maybe if I'd known that – " Hans cut himself off. "You know, Mr. Snatcher, you're really a smart guy. I haven't been fair about a lot of things about you. Superficial things. But you do have a way with people. I bet you could talk Princess Rapunzel into coming with us and she wouldn't think anything of it."

"Perhaps you could do the same, Prince Westergard," Snatcher replied. "After all, appealing to women has been your strategy."

They smiled at each other then, having finally reached an understanding.

"And, I mean," Hans went on, "Roman's not much in the manipulation department, no offense, but he's really not as much of a disaster on the battlefield as I give him grief for."

"THANK you!" Roman blurted.

"It does talk," Gothel said in surprise.

"To people who are actually nice to me," Roman clarified. "Which, right now, is you and Sideburns."

"The same applies to Mr. Demyx," Snatcher stated. "Once he actually puts his mind to making an effort. Would that Mr. Weasel could see what he could REALLY do."

"And send Roman after him for good measure," Hans added. Then, to Roman directly, "Or do you prefer 'Mr. Torchwick'?"

"You get to use my first name," Roman told him.

"We could practically install Misters Demyx and Torchwick in the place of the Baron," Snatcher said offhandedly. "They're certainly suited for the…" His eyes widened. "That's it."

"What's it?" Hans asked.

"A two-pronged strategy," Snatcher realized. "We create a threat: Misters Demyx and Torchwick stepping up to fill the power vacuum. While that occurs, Prince Westergard, Miss Gothel, and I corner the princess directly. Miss Gothel will offer her former daughter a safe haven: a return to familiarity. Play to her sympathies. Lord Westergard and I shall back up her argument, convincing her that should she stay, she will fall victim to these wicked criminal usurpers, while the three of us only want the best for her. It's practically foolproof!"

"And if she doesn't wanna go?" Demyx asked.

"Then you and Torchwick will carry out the threat promised," Snatcher stated. "Once she sees you're serious, she'll have little choice."

"Maybe rough up a couple people from her caravan," Hans suggested. "Drown one of them for effect."

"I like this plan," Demyx said with a smile. "It's a good plan."

"It plays on everyone's strengths," Hans added.

"I have wanted a reunion," Gothel contributed.

Roman begrudgingly handed Snatcher a thumbs-up.

"We've simply got to wait to strike at the right time," Snatcher explained. "It will take more reconnaissance. More knowledge of the princess' whereabouts."

"Watch her not even be here," Demyx groaned.

Snatcher took out the compass, giving it a look. "I wouldn't be too sure of that," he said slyly. When he tilted the compass, all could see the needle was pointing back in the direction from which they'd come. "Assuming her journey has taken her on a direct path…we've already passed her."

"Then we break for recon!" Demyx declared. "I swear I'll actually do it this time."

"First things first," Snatcher muttered, "I've got to have a drink of water. This climate is abysmal. We rendez-vous here in an hour."

"Sounds fair," Hans agreed.

"One hour!" Demyx chimed in.

"See you then," Gothel said in a sultry voice.

Roman just nodded.

As Snatcher left the alleyway, he thought the others had dispersed behind him, each heading their own way. He continued down the road, seeking any means of obtaining water: perhaps a public well or fountain.

He felt an arm link with his own and a head lean on his shoulder as someone fell into step beside him. "Torchwick," he grunted, "what could POSSIBLY make you think now is the – "

"Wrong," an all-too-feminine voice said right in his ear. "Want to guess again?"

Snatcher flinched, pushing Gothel off him. "What is the meaning of this?" he barked.

"Just that we make a great team," Gothel said, her voice syrupy. "Don't you think?"

"I can see what you want," Snatcher said curtly, "and it seems you weren't paying attention. I've no interest in women."

"That can't stop a girl from dreaming, can it?" Gothel replied.

Snatcher was trying to figure out exactly what to reply to get her to leave when she changed her tone; "Oh, I'm only having a little fun. Besides, it sounds like you're already involved with the redhead. Though that does seem to be on the rocks…"

"Miss Gothel," Snatcher said in a warning tone.

"I understand," she said flippantly. "You have plans to plan. I'll leave you be. Great minds need solitude to think, after all."

She sauntered away, leaving Snatcher wondering if she had really taken his words to heart. He had spelled out his sexuality in no uncertain terms. Surely she couldn't think to defy that.

Contenting himself with that thought, he continued on his way, keeping a sharp eye out for anything that it might prove useful to remember.

...

As the sun set over Radiant Garden, the first of the dark shapes climbed high into the night, held aloft by artificial wings. The lower the sun dipped in the sky, the more identical figures joined it, hovering in the sky, waiting.

Streetlamps illuminated; light poured from windows. They couldn't get close yet. More and more of them climbed into the air, no one noticing them against the darkness of the sky.

Once night had fallen completely, the trio moved swiftly through the underground passages leading to the power center of Radiant Garden.

"We should've taken a left at that last turn!" the blonde-haired Turk Elena complained.

"I know what I'm doing!" Reno argued.

Tall, bald, and sunglass-bearing Rude simply sighed in frustration. He knew Elena was right, but he felt obligated to take Reno's side nonetheless.

Eventually, they made it to the generation plant. A great turbine spun in the midst of a vast chamber lit by hundreds of blinking lights. Reno approached the turbine, locating the cord that hooked it to the generator.

"This is the one," he said proudly.

"Lights on," Elena declared; she and Rude produced glowing spherical crystals from their pockets.

Reno drew a knife from his belt, flicking open the blade. "Shame we get to miss all the action," he sighed.

"Someone will come and check this plant out once the chaos begins," Rude reminded him. "Then we will see action."

"I can't wait to knock THEIR lights out," Elena giggled.

In one swift movement, Reno slashed the cable.

All over town, streetlights winked out. The luminescence of every building went dormant. In one fell swoop, Radiant Garden, all but the castle, went completely dark.

There was a moment's panic from the citizens, but they assumed the lights would be back on momentarily after some repairs were made. The anxiety they felt then was nothing compared to the fear that would come.

Because as soon as the city went dark, the Nightcrawlers that had been assembling in the sky descended.

They began to destroy whatever they could find the moment they landed, tossing explosive crystals and bringing down walls. People spilled out of destroyed buildings into the streets, now truly panicked.

And once they did, the hundred Weasels were there to greet them, armed to the teeth with blades and guns.

It took almost no time for the city to transition from tranquility to utter pandemonium. Fires sprang up where the Turks tossed Molotov cocktails; the Nightcrawlers shied away with hisses, turning their attention on cornering people in the darker alleys to rip away all the valuables they were carrying at Sykes' command.

The Turks spilled into the rich shopping district, looting it for all it was worth. A massive shuriken spun through the air and shattered a store window, leaving it open for a slight brunette woman to leap through. Leblanc hovered in over the woman's shoulder as she hoisted up her massive weapon.

"Well, take your pick," Cissnei offered.

"You know quite well I want all of them," Leblanc huffed. "Now get to work filling the bag!"

"Yes, your highness," Cissnei teased, opening a large sack and raiding the shelves of their dresspheres.

"YOU!" The owner of that particular store, who lived in an apartment above the sales floor, came storming down the stairway to the main level, his husband and son in tow. "What do you think you're doing to my wares?" The store owner hoisted up a baseball bat.

"Cute weapon," Cissnei remarked, setting down the bag in order to pick up her shuriken. "Tell you what. I'm gonna give you to the count of ten to leave."

"Let's just go!" the store owner's husband hissed.

Gingerly, the family made their way toward the door as Cissnei waggled the shuriken menacingly, on the brink of throwing. "Take whatever you want!" the owner said in a quivering tone. "Enjoy it! It'll look good on you!"

"Six," Cissnei told them. "Seeeeveeeeen…"

"Eightnineten!" Leblanc barked, flicking a fan in her hand.

For such a tiny weapon, the burst of wind it emitted was large enough to blow the three tormented right out the door and into the street, where Cissnei and Leblanc could already hear the screams of the people pursued by the Weasels. With a shrug, Cissnei returned to filling the bag as Leblanc urged her to go faster.

The residential districts were the territory of the Weasels; the Patrol took charge in one of the largest neighborhoods. The weasel known as Stupid, wearing a striped shirt and a cap with a propeller set atop it, chased a crowd of screaming teenagers down the street as he swung his baseball bat shot through with a nail. Wheezy, a blue weasel who had mastered the art of smoking multiple cigarettes at once while firing a Tommy gun, opened fire on the youths Stupid had rounded up. From a perpendicular street, Psycho the weasel, dressed in a straitjacket that was loosened enough to give him arm mobility, let out a piercing giggle as he slit the throat of a hapless victim with a straight razor. The green-suited weasel called Greasy used a pistol to break open the lock of a house before swapping it out for his switchblade as he pursued the residents, who were by that time crawling out the windows in hopes of making it to safety.

Where shops and homes intersected, in a square illuminated by flames, Smartass strode to the center, twirling a revolver around his finger. Tseng approached from the opposite direction, tensely holding up a machine gun.

"Your men are doing a sloppy job," Tseng spat, "but it will work."

"Just tell me your guys is pickin' up the loot," Smartass responded. "Or are youse too busy shinin' your matchin' shoes to contradict to the pot?"

"Contribute," Tseng muttered. "And my people are doing their part. You'll see a return at the end of the night. So long as we see our share."

"Then we's don't got a problem for once in our lives," Smartass told him.

Horace Badun excitedly shook a cash register over a bag that Jasper held out; it was the fifth one they'd broken into. "We're gonna be rich!" Jasper laughed.

"You ain't scared of those Nightcrawlers, are you?" Horace asked nervously, spotting the shadowy forms of Maleficent's dark army swishing by.

"Ah, ain't nothin' to be afraid of," Jasper told his brother. "Any of 'em crosses me, I'll give 'em a good whack to the head." He held up the club he preferred to carry into battle.

"I think it'll take more than a whack to the head to slow them down!" Horace worried.

"They haven't bothered us all night," Jasper assured Horace. "Now scrape the last of that munny into the bag! It's about time to meet up with the boss and head for the vault!"

On their way out, they passed Medusa, who had simply draped herself in almost an entire shop's inventory of magical jewelry. "Gorgeous!" she proclaimed, admiring the red rings on her fingers, the yellow stones on her wrist, the blue pendant dangling from her neck. "Simply gorgeous! And worth an absolute fortune!"

A civilian came running down the street, seizing Medusa's shoulders and shaking her. "Help me!" the man cried. "Oh, gods, help me!"

"Get off!" Medusa sharply kicked the man in the stomach before picking up the rifle she'd carried with her into this mission as opposed to driving the Huntsclan skimmer. "You absolute nuisance!" She was quicker than her victim; the shot's noise was lost among the sounds of breaking glass, falling stone walls, and screams.

In the living room of one of the smaller houses of the residential district, a family cowered as a four-legged shadow cast over them, its source pacing before them. "I might be persuaded to let you go without a scratch," Scar said smoothly, "so long as you hand over what I want quietly."

The mother of the family, the only adult, urged her children, "Go upstairs. Now." Once the youngsters had scurried away for their lives, the woman declared, "I'll give you anything you want."

"Let's start with your money, shall we?" Scar decided. "If I'm feeling generous, I might let you keep your jewelry when we're done."

The Joker had no such decorum. He had beaten a man, a woman, and their teenage daughter into submission while he ransacked their bedroom. "The money is only a bonus, you know," he informed them. "It's not really what I came for."

"What did you – " the girl struggled to say.

"No!" her mother hissed. "Don't talk to him!"

"What I really came to do," the Joker announced, drawing from his coat an unlit Molotov, "was this."

He held a lighter to the rag, then tossed the bottle. As the bedroom went up in flames, he threw open the wide window, launching himself from the second floor. Since the incident at Blackmoor Manor, he had equipped himself with some new toys; a small pink rubber object was launched at the ground, expanding into an enormous whoopee cushion. The Joker landed safely, bouncing a little on the cushion as it made a reverberating sound of flatulence. He then skipped away cheerily with his bag of loot as the home he'd infiltrated burst into flames behind him.

Sykes awaited the others in the front square, his pockets lined with money and jewels. He patiently smoked another cigarette; the Huntsclan-issue axe at his side dripped with blood that pooled on the cobblestones below. Soon, the Baduns, Medusa, Scar, and the Joker filtered in from around the square; Sykes was almost amused by how much Medusa's haul glittered in the firelight. "Ready to go claim the big prize?" he asked.

"I don't want to go," the Joker pouted. "It's FUN out here."

"Well, we're going!" Medusa yelled, pointing her rifle directly at the Joker. "And don't you slow us down!"

"Oh, calm down," the Joker told her, casually pushing the barrel aside. "It was only a joke."

"You had better lead on before they start a civil war," Scar advised.

"Besides, I wanna see the real loot!" Jasper urged.

"We'll leave the chump change to the amateurs," Sykes declared as he turned to walk down the road that led to the edge of town; the others fell in step beside him. "We're going to take a little trip to see the ice cream man."