Instead of using a Corridor of Darkness, Mozenrath had Hämsterviel return to base the long way by pulling the wheel-shaped ship directly into the hangar.

"It will be an advantage to have another ship that's interspace-worthy," the sorcerer remarked as he, Snatcher, Scarlet, Vexen, Wuya, Yzma, Xayide, and Hämsterviel disembarked. "You know, I actually was thinking about retrofitting some of the former Cyclonian warships with Gummi to make them fit for inter-world travel."

Vexen let out an audible sigh, like the air rushing from a bellows. Ravess had told him tales of her and her brother's exploits in the Cyclonian military, and he happened to recall a particular detail that was a point of disgust among both Ravess and himself: Snipe's personal ship. "You would see THAT as part of our fleet?" he complained, gesturing toward that ship in particular.

Mozenrath angled his vision to take it in. It was a gunship, though it seemed to be more gun than ship. Cannons and firearms had been installed on every available space. It was a wonder the ship had ever flown at all; Mozenrath could hardly imagine any of the artillery firing without starting a chain reaction that would engulf the ship in flames. And yet it obviously had flown before, or it wouldn't have been kept around. "If it's useful," he resolved. He had no delusions about who this ship had belonged to, and his philosophy about it was the same he held regarding Snipe himself: it was stupid. It was incredibly stupid. But it would provide a distinct advantage to the WHAM ARMY's overall success.

"Anyway," he went on, now addressing Hämsterviel – who looked almost comical as he scurried alongside the longer strides of his much taller allies – and gesturing to the inside of the hangar, transitioning to the hallway they entered frm there. "This is it. Lair sweet lair."

"Very nice!" Hämsterviel responded as though he'd just been granted entrance to a candy shop. "It has a distinct nefarious architecture."

"If only Mozenrath had been the one to choose its design," Vexen said smugly.

"So help me Ahriman, I will repaint the entire ship blue if you make one more comment," Mozenrath growled.

"Please don't," Snatcher said quickly.

"We're USED to this now," Yzma added. "If you go making it blue, we'll all have to readjust!"

That had been a subtle test of the waters: Mozenrath actually had been considering redecorating the place to look less Cyclonian, and was now aware that would be met with overwhelming dissatisfaction. Of course, he could decide not to care, but he figured that would be a bad move in the long run.

He steered the group in the direction of the karaoke room, as he felt that was probably the room Hämsterviel would have to be warned about early on if he were going to live here, when the air was rent by a scream: not the scream of an innocent being tortured, unfortunately, but the scream of an electric guitar being played by someone who had never seen an electric guitar before, which itself can be considered a form of torture.

Mozenrath threw open the doors to see the source of the noise. Atop the stage, Aghoul, bearing the guitar Xayide had brought home from the temptation of Lance Alvers, had plugged the instrument into an amp and was posing dramatically at different ends of the stage while striking what he assumed would turn into chords eventually.

"WILL YOU CEASE THAT HIDEOUS CACOPHONY?" Hämsterviel screeched.

Aghoul paid him absolutely no mind, striking yet another pose while making the guitar wail in pain once more.

"AGHOUL!" Mozenrath stormed up onto the stage, making direct eye contact with his friend, which finally got Aghoul to stop what he was doing. "WHERE DID YOU GET THAT?"

"Xayide brought it back from that mission you were on," Aghoul answered. "She said anyone who wanted it could take it, and, well, I have always been fond of slaying crowds with an axe in the traditional sense, so I wanted to give the metaphorical version a go."

Mozenrath flicked Xayide a disgusted glare. "You brought this upon us."

"I didn't think anyone would pick it up who didn't already know how to play," Xayide replied coldly.

"I fully intend to learn it properly!" Aghoul insisted, miffed. "I was just having a little fun, that's all. If only this instrument weren't RED."

After a quick glance at each other, Scarlet and Snatcher asked in unison, "What's wrong with red?"

"It isn't my AESTHETIC!" Aghoul complained. "It's too lively! Though I suppose it is the color of blood…" He shook his head. "Nope, still too lively."

"You want something morbid?" Wuya said with a raised brow.

"I think we can assist with that," Xayide added slyly.

At once, both women pointed at the guitar in Aghoul's hands, letting loose twin bursts of sparkles that enveloped the instrument. When the glimmer cleared, the previously rounded, crimson instrument was now narrower, more angular, and black with white skulls emblazoned on its surface.

"Now THAT'S a murder weapon!" Aghoul crowed.

"I can't tell if you're being figurative anymore," Mozenrath admitted.

"Now," Aghoul muttered, "to figure out notes…"

His fingers curiously explored the strings, now gently vibrating them, one by one, to hear what sound they made. This, unlike the previous display, seemed a genuine effort to learn the ways of the device.

Mozenrath leapt down off the stage, cape fluttering as he landed before the rest of his companions. "As I was saying," he informed Hämsterviel, "this is the room where our general revelry takes place."

"I hope you are not expecting me to sing," Hämsterviel said in a warning tone.

"I'm not," Mozenrath told him, "but good luck getting everyone else on that page."

"Have them know I outright REFUSE," Hämsterviel insisted. "What is it with my evil associates and this love for the singing with pre-recorded backup music?"

"He says he won't sing," Wuya noted with a glance toward Snatcher. "Did he just give us a challenge?"
"I do believe Dr. Hämsterviel has just issued us a challenge," Snatcher replied with a smug grin.

"Let's just keep the tour moving," Mozenrath grunted as he took off at a brisk stride; the others followed, leaving Aghoul to experiment with his new toy. "We'll be assigning you an apartment next, Hämsterviel. I hope you don't mind that the bed will be about five times as big as it needs to be for you."

"Ooh, deluxe!" Hämsterviel cried excitedly.

...

"And WHAT happened to this room?" Eugene Fitzherbert asked Riku, perplexed beyond reason as he and Aladdin surveyed the cracks that ran up the foyer walls, the downed chandelier platform, the shattered fountainhead, and every other small pockmark left from the scuffle.

Eugene and Aladdin had spent the earlier part of the day recalling Riku's story of watching the skies from the rooftop with Mal and Lianna and, inspired, testing out how navigable the rooftops were. (The answer was: very, if you were deft.) Returning to the castle proper to discuss their findings, they had been greeted with a rather drastic sight.

"The short version is that Mozenrath happened," Riku answered.

"That checks out," Aladdin said as he surveyed the wreckage. "But what's the long version?"

Riku related to them the tale. During the recapitulation, Eugene and Aladdin both turned their gazes toward Riku, listening intently.

When he finished, Eugene remarked, "So now we have to worry about this 'Brotherhood' too, apparently. How many villains are we fighting, exactly?"

"Trust me," Aladdin laughed, "this is nothing."

"I still don't know if they're really villains," Riku admitted. "They're obviously flirting with the Darkness, but it's not so simple. In the end, they gave us back what we needed and just took what we didn't. It'll be valuable to them, but we won't miss that stuff. And all of them except Quicksilver seemed friendly enough when we met them in town."

"This is…almost sounding familiar," Eugene admitted. "I mean, I'd like to think I was never THAT bad, but…"

"Why did they want all that munny, anyway?" Aladdin asked. "Are they…doing okay?"

"I don't know," Riku admitted. "They're new to this whole world, if what Sora said about Wanda was right. And as far as we know, we haven't seen any of their parents – "

"WAIT," Eugene and Aladdin interrupted at the same time.

"How old were they?" Aladdin asked, suddenly quite concerned.

Had Riku not mentioned that? "They all looked around my age," he answered. "Maybe older. Maybe younger. But all close to that."

Eugene and Aladdin exchanged a worried look. Each knew what the other was thinking, for he was thinking it himself.

"I…think I wanna talk to them," Eugene said eventually.

"Me too," Aladdin agreed.

"Do we have any idea where they're living?" Eugene asked.

"No," Riku replied.

"But I know how we can find out," Aladdin realized, thoughts drifting to the hourglass.

...

Lance spun the Dust crystal on the tip of his finger for as long as it would go before toppling into his palm, then set it up to do so again as he listened to Pietro outline the next steps.

"Because what city doesn't have a black market?" Pietro went on, leaning against the living room wall; as Lance paid attention with ears alone, Wanda, Todd, and Fred all regarded Pietro with what appeared on the surface to be their full attention – though Pietro knew better than to assume that by that point. "We're going to find the ACTUAL crime rings of this city. Not the weird people who want to take over the world. Now that we know what we have comes from different worlds each, I bet we could raise the asking price. All we know is that there's more where they came from in the place where they actually CAME from. If they're one-of-a-kind here, we've got it made."

"Boy, you sure took this whole other-worlds thing well," Todd remarked from his position on the wall.

"I'm just being smart about this," Pietro replied. "THIS is an opportunity we've never had before."

When the knock came at the door, all five flinched.

"That better not be another evil wizard," Lance groaned.

"You should all be hoping it's not the SAME evil wizard," Wanda pointed out.

"So?" Fred countered. "We'll just throw him down the block again!"

As Pietro sped toward the door, the others assembled behind, ready to spring into action if it turned out it were indeed Mozenrath at the door. Instead, the view granted them was of the two young men who'd taken an interest in the group, both smiling brightly.

"Hi," Eugene began. "Eugene Fitzherbert. This devilishly handsome – yet not as handsome as me - companion is my steadfast friend Aladdin."

"We heard you gave our friends up at the castle some trouble," Aladdin said teasingly, folding his arms.

"And what about it?" Pietro asked.

Eugene and Aladdin both knew this wasn't going to be easy, especially since the Brotherhood had set themselves up with a decent living space and probably thought they had it made. Still, they could tell just by observing the eyes of the quintet that these were shadows of the men that Eugene and Aladdin had once been. In their yearning to reach back in time and pull themselves forward, they found sympathy for those on the same path, wanting to offer the security they needed. If they could stop others from suffering how they'd suffered, they would not hesitate.

"Look," Eugene said. "We get it. We've been there. The life of a criminal looks glamorous from the outside."

"Great," Lance groaned. "They're here to preach to us."

"Just hear us out, okay?" Eugene retaliated. So that was the one called "Lance." He had that same self-assured way of carrying himself that Eugene's Lance did; was this just a commonality among Lances? It made the parallels ever stronger. "I used to be just like you. Well, not JUST like you. No superpowers. Kiiiiinda woulda been cooler if I did. But I remember what it was like to be angry at the world. I remember what it was like to think stealing and cheating was the only way to solve my problems."

"And I remember what it was like to live on the edge of starving," Aladdin chimed in. "I stole only what I couldn't afford…and that was everything. After a while, it started to seem like fun. So did picking fights with the royal guards."

"But what we also remember is how hard it got, living that way," Eugene stated. "Being the villains of the story. Me? I was always on the run, I NEVER had anywhere I could call safe even when I was literally in a safehouse, I had countless enemies…"

"People…looked at me like I was just LESS," Aladdin added. "They'd call me 'riff raff' and 'street rat.' Nobody ever bothered to find out if there was more."

"We just…think there's more to you," Eugene picked up from that. "At first, when they told us your first move upon moving into town was to literally take our most valuable stuff and try to ransom it back to us, we thought we'd just run into another bunch of bad eggs, which seems to be our pattern."

"Well, that wasn't exactly all we thought," Aladdin admitted. "We did hear about how you made friends with a few of our friends. That was our first clue."

"It just kind of hit home once we learned you were a bunch of kids," Eugene said somberly.

"Not kids!" Aladdin corrected hastily. "Teenagers."

"Of course," Eugene said with a nod. "My mistake. But when we learned you were out here on your own, things started to make a liiiiiiiittle more sense."

"I know you didn't really get along with everyone back at the castle at first," Aladdin stated, "but even though that big fight happened…we wanted to offer you a place."

"There's room for you in the castle if you want it," Eugene confirmed. "We've talked it over with the head honcho, and she said she was willing to let bygones be bygones."

He and Aladdin parted slightly, allowing the Brotherhood a view to where Kairi stood a distance behind them. She nodded her affirmation. She knew it was best to let Eugene and Aladdin do the talking here, but her presence did make the offer official.

"No more running," Eugene went on. "No more stealing. No worrying about where you're going to get your next meal or anything like that. You guys would be completely taken care of."

"And we'd protect you from everything," Aladdin added. "No more worrying about Mozenrath breaking down your door."

"Which I know looks bad, seeing how Mozenrath literally walked through OUR door right in front of you," Eugene pointed out, "but normally, he does NOT do that."

"We just…want to help," Aladdin concluded. "We know there's more to you than what you showed us, and we want to get to know who you really are."

"And we know you probably don't want anything to do with us," Eugene added, "but the offer stands."

They paused to let the Brotherhood make their counter. The five of them were admittedly stunned by this gesture of goodwill; it took them a moment to figure out how to respond. Pietro looked to Wanda, who looked to Lance, who looked to Todd, who looked to Fred, who looked back to Pietro.

As the quintet contemplated, Aladdin and Eugene momentarily were no longer looking at five teenagers they'd never seen, but at a young boy with shaggy hair who'd almost been taken by the El-Khatib; at a pair of girls, one with dark hair and one with red, who had managed to make the pubgoers of the Snuggly Duckling cry.

Finally, Pietro said the first and foremost thing he knew all of his companions were thinking: "Are you done?" The curve of his brow indicated that he had not taken the message welcomingly.

"Yeah," Aladdin said sheepishly, already knowing what answer awaited Eugene and himself. "We're done."

"First of all, you don't know the first thing about us," Pietro snapped. "Unless one of you happened to have a father who used you as a tool before abandoning you."

"I betcha ain't never known what it's like to be a mutant, either," Todd added. "Ya think it's all cool powers? 'Cause it ain't. It's…well, okay, the powers are pretty cool…an' I definitely wouldn't wanna be no human…I mean, can you even picture me without this tongue?" He completely forgot what point he was trying to make.

"You've never had to know what it was like to not be in control of what you affected just by existing," Wanda growled.

"But forget all that," Lance said with a shake of his head. "You make living with you sound all nice, but it's just gonna be a buncha rules we gotta follow."

"And gettin' along with people we won't like!" Fred emphasized.

"Like the Slowpoke," Pietro growled. "You don't expect me to share a house with HER."

"We're doin' just fine on our own," Lance argued. "We got each other, and each other's all we need."

"We don't need to make nice with a buncha people who'll tell us to clean up this, don't break that, that ain't yours so don't touch it," Todd emphasized.

"This is just like the X-freaks all over again!" Fred groaned.

"I grew up in an institution," Wanda said coldly, "and I only just got my first memory back of what that was really like. I'm NOT going to spend the rest of my life in another one, no matter how pretty it looks."

"And you're missing the point," Pietro concluded. "We're bad because we want to be bad. We are not GOOD. We don't WANT to be GOOD. We've all tried it at least once each, and it never worked out long-term for any of us. If you wanna play savior, go find someone who actually needs saving. We're not your charity cases for you to use to fix your guilty conscience, okay?" He swept outward with his hand; Aladdin and Eugene instinctively backed up a couple steps. "Now buzz off."

Both Aladdin and Eugene had known this was a possibility. A strong possibility, in fact. They'd come prepared. "If that's really how you feel about it," Eugene said calmly, "then forget we said anything."

"But if you ever change your mind," Aladdin added, "there WILL be a door open for you."

It was sad to Aladdin and Eugene that the Brotherhood wouldn't join the group at the castle, that they wouldn't take the opportunity to better their lives that way. However, they both knew how they had been at that age. All that mattered was that the offer was on the table. Maybe one day, the five mutant teens would see reason to take them up on it. Maybe they never would.

Aladdin and Eugene had just spent far too much of their teenage years staring up at their own castles and secretly wishing to be extended an invitation.

"And with that, ciao," Eugene said as he and Aladdin turned away from the door.

"Try not to wreck the entire room next time we run into each other, okay?" Aladdin laughed. "And by the way…thanks for helping give Mozenrath a taste of his own medicine."

They fell in line with Kairi, who picked up a walking pace next to them, and all three made way back to the castle.

"I mean, it WAS nice of them to offer," Lance said once they were out of earshot. "Doesn't mean we're gonna take it, but at least they give a darn."

"They mean well," Wanda sighed. "But it's always the people who mean well who really don't understand."

"Let's just hope they got the hint," Pietro snorted.

As Eugene, Aladdin, and Kairi walked back toward the heart of the kingdom, Aladdin asked, "So you're gonna do what you said you'd do, right?"

Kairi nodded. "We'll keep that house powered and heated. The water going, too. Are you sure we shouldn't tell them that's what we're doing – "

"TRUST me," Eugene broke in, "if they knew we were giving them a 'handout' like that, we'd end up at all-out war."

"We'll just keep this between us and the Committee," Aladdin agreed.

"I just wonder what this means," Kairi mused. "They made it sound like we just made a new enemy. But I still don't think they're as bad as they seem."

"I guess time will tell," Aladdin said with a shrug.

...

The scent of secondhand smoke hung thick in the air when Archibald Snatcher returned to the apartment he shared with Roman. Given that Snatcher's olfactory senses were notoriously bad at doing their job, the fact that he noticed it alerted him to the atmosphere he was returning to.

He found Roman sitting up in the bed, back pressed against the headboard as he took a long drag off a cigarette, exhaling a cloud of silver that floated before closed, long-lashed eyes on its way to clutter the air just below the ceiling. When Roman's eyes opened and he realized he wasn't alone, the redhead gave a start, forcing a smile. "Hey there!" he greeted. "Sooooo, how'd the mission go?"

"We can discuss that later," Snatcher stated, pointing directly at Roman. "First, you're getting whatever it is you've in mind off your chest."

"Whaaaaa?" Roman feigned confusion. "I don't know WHAT you're – "

"Judging by the scent," Snatcher explained (once he'd been interrupted, Roman put the tobacco back to his lips), "that's got to be at least your third cigarette in a row, meaning you've been in a state of at least mild distress. Now, taking that into consideration, the fact that you've been keeping to tobacco and smoking nothing stronger indicates that you wished to talk to me about whatever happened and keep a clear head, as well as retain your memory of the discussion."

Roman's lips fell open, letting the cigarette drop onto his thigh, where he let it burn for a few seconds before coming to his senses long enough to scoop up the tobacco and stub it into the bedside ash tray. "Okay, now you're just getting scary."

Snatcher flashed Roman a proud smile. "Now, let's have it out, shall we?"

Roman wriggled his way to confine himself to half the bed, patting the other half of the comforter. Snatcher took up the invitation, sitting next to Roman and resting his back against the headboard.

"Soooooo…I kinda went after Gar and Mister Twister to drag them back to the WHAM ARMY," Roman admitted.

"And I take it that didn't go well," Snatcher replied, though he could've predicted that much if he'd known that was what Roman had aimed to do.

"Actually? Better than expected," Roman explained. "I learned some shit. They just wanted to get back to Jester, and after everything, I can't really blame 'em." He sighed. "She's not that bad either. Of course, she DEFINITELY hates me now, but I finally get what they see in her. I get it. We were the new friends. She was the old one. Anyway, I let them all go – in fucking Remnant of all worlds – and offered them a trial mission. If they say yes, I get to take them out on the next assignment Righty gives us, and we'll see if we can all be one big happy family. If everything goes well, Gar and Mister Twister come back, and we recruit Jester with 'em." A pause. "The problem, of course, being that things NEVER go well. I think I seriously just said goodbye to all of 'em for the last time."

Snatcher didn't have words just yet; instead, he lifted his hand to rest lightly on Roman's shoulder in a gesture of sympathy.

"It was never about my rep," Roman grunted. "I missed 'em. Both of 'em. I just wanted my fucking friends back, Archie. …But you knew that."

"Noooo," Snatcher replied teasingly. "Far be it from me to believe you so SENTIMENTAL."

Roman let his silence do the talking.

"I knew," Snatcher said in a more serious tone. "Rather shared the sentiment myself, actually. You are saying there's hope they'll return?"

"Barely."

"In any case, you made a valiant effort."

Roman gave a faint "pff" noise at this.

"There may be one thought that offers you more comfort," Snatcher stated.

"Yeah?" Roman replied skeptically.

Snatcher's hand slid down to give Roman's forearm a firm squeeze. "I'm not going anywhere."

That did put a smile on Roman's face. "You're not allowed to walk out on me," he said, half teasing, half serious.

"If I ever do," Snatcher replied, "you may assume I have gone mad."

Roman slumped, leaning into Snatcher, his head nestling on the other's broad shoulder. "It's off my chest," he proclaimed. "Now you get to tell me about this mission you wanted to send me on. Something about manipulating impulsive teenagers? That sounds like your kind of gig."

"It did NOT go well," Snatcher grunted. "Fortunately, as it turns out, we no longer have any reason to pursue the missing artifacts. Unfortunately, it does render a good deal of our work useless, and we've made yet another batch of children for enemies needlessly. We have also employed a talking rat."

"That sounds like a long story," Roman commented. "Lucky for you, I'm free for the next few hours."

"To begin," Snatcher related, "by the time Lord Mozenrath managed to locate the items we sought, they'd already been – "

Roman's scroll interrupted the tale by giving a beep and vibrating loudly against the nightstand. "Hang on," Roman said as he shifted, lifting his head upright and grabbing the scroll. "I'm back with you in two seconds. I just wanna see who…"

The text had come from one "Gar."

"Is it…?" Snatcher asked.

"Yeah," Roman replied, evenly divided as to whether to expect the best or an outright refusal of his proposal.

"And they've said…?"

Roman tapped the thread, opening the text up and reading its brief statement. "Well, damn."

...

The joint venture of Harley, Garfield, and Peter had not only allowed them to pool quite a bit of lien but also acquire a few sets of casual clothing for each. It was amazing what you could get away with while every Huntsman and Huntress in the city was occupied killing a seemingly neverending stream of Boarbatusks.

Now dressed as three of your average Remnant civilians, the trio rested on their laurels by sitting on the floor of Harley's room at the inn; she toweled off the rest of her makeup and whipped the fuzzy blue towel into the corner.

"Man, do we got some catchin' up to do," she declared.

"Yeah," Garfield agreed. "Starting with how you got an angry mob after you."

"It wasn't my fault!" Harley insisted.

"If I may venture to go back even further," Peter suggested, "I wouldn't mind more detail on how you arrived here in the first place."

Garfield flinched, thinking it might be a sore subject for Harley.

Harley, however, was all too happy to share. "So y'know how I saved the day at the end, right?" she bubbled. "I used real actual magic ta break Mozzy's hypnosis!"

"That part, we were told," Peter confirmed. "Though where you learned magic is another story."

"One story at a time!" Harley insisted. "You don' want this gettin' all tangled up, do ya?"

"Really, Harley?" Peter smirked. "You're just going to HAND me the pun?"

"Okay, so let's skip past the part I know you don' wanna hear," Harley went on. "So there I am, all alone on the Forbidden World, when the Doc's ship comes by…I gotta tell you guys about the Doc, don't I? Okay, okay, this story first! Anyway…"

She told the story straight through, then backtracked upon request to relate how she had learned sand magic, then how she had met and developed her relationship with Terminus and Hoagy. When Garfield and Peter heard of how the Joker had harmed her, they felt a unanimous twist of an imaginary knife in their bowels, but Harley put on a brave face, acting as though it were merely a bump in the road – though one that had her good and fired up at the Joker and ready to get revenge whenever she mustered up the power. Then she backtracked even further, telling the chronicles of her life with Maleficent's forces. There was a quick break to get snacks out of the downstairs vending machine; thanks to the flexibility and wiriness of Peter's arm, no one had to pay a single coin. Once all had reconvened, the truth finally came out about the museum incident; Harley was shocked and rightly angry that the Joker had added the toxin to the mix, but all considered, she really wasn't surprised. Nor were Peter and Garfield surprised that she'd known nothing about it.

"…An' I think that's it," she said at last. "Boy, that took longer than I thought. Good thing we're all night people, huh?"

"Indeed," Peter confirmed. "I'm not even tired."

"And I really don't want to go to sleep," Garfield added. Yes, everything had turned out all right, or so it seemed, but he still didn't trust his mind not to replay old nightmares the minute he let his guard down, even in a pleasant context.

Harley gasped. "I got an idea! How about you guys tell me all the stuff you did with the WHAM ARMY?"

They both cringed. "Potentially not the best idea," Peter answered.

Harley pouted. "Is this 'cause ya think I don't wanna hear about Roman an' the others? He did seem real sincere up there on the roof. I don't mind him so much no more. An' I wanna know what you guys've been doin'! It was prob'ly way more fun than I was havin'." She gasped. "But don' let that stop ya, either! Maybe if ya tell me, it'll be like I was there the whole time!"

Peter and Garfield exchanged a long glance.

"Come on," Harley insisted. "I wanna know! An' I don' appreciate you guys thinkin' I can't take it!"

That resolved it. "Okay," Garfield began as he and Peter turned their attention back to Harley. "So one night, we're down at the Fourth Circle, like everything's gonna be normal, when in walk the four weirdest people we'd ever seen in our lives, and we live in GOTHAM, so you know that means something."

So began the tale of Garfield and Peter in the WHAM ARMY. It was slow to start, and at first, the two of them tried to be as detached as they could; much like Maleficent was to Harley, it was the life they'd left behind. As they went on, however, they couldn't help but relive the good times all over again. Peter stood to reenact a fragment of his battle against Tyrian Callows (the first one, anyway), smiling broadly as he flipped and curled around an imaginary opponent. Garfield related most of the tale of the infiltration of Radiant Garden in the voice he'd used to become Bridgit, trying once along the way and failing to mimic Snatcher's Russian accent from the time.

The chronicle became somber as they reached the point where it intersected with Harley's own tale, telling of their defection and the quest to find Harley based on the navigation of the crystal pendant.

"So that thing's got our friendship enchanted right in it!" Harley gasped when Peter produced the crystal. "And it's SHINY!"

Then all tales were ended. Most of the night was now gone; dawn was but a few moments away.

"Y'know," Harley remarked, "you guys really did have fun in the WHAM ARMY. I could tell by the way you told all those stories. I guess it really was a good thing you had goin'."

"Not good enough," Garfield insisted quickly. "They made us turn our back on you."

"Well, one more than the others," Peter corrected.

"They all sound so interestin'," Harley remarked. "Mozzy, an' Archie, an' Neo…you guys prob'ly miss 'em all, don'tcha?"

"No!" Garfield and Peter said as one.

"Come on!" Harley snapped. "I'm a psychologist, remember? Didja really think you could get away with lyin' ta me? You miss 'em! I know it!"

"Perhaps, perhaps," Peter said cryptically. "But nowhere near enough to make up for losing you."

"Well…maybe ya shouldn' hafta choose." Harley squirmed slightly in place, her face indicating that she'd struggled to make a rather difficult decision within a short moment. "I think…I think ya should text Roman back an' tell him we're gonna go on that mission with him."

"You don't have to do this for us," Garfield told her. "We knew what we were doing when we left him."

"Yeah, then do it for me!" Harley insisted. "I want my shot at meetin' your friends! Maybe I wanna see if they'll be MY friends too! I wanna try out that mission together…" She swung her arm excitedly across her body, fist clenched. "So fire up that phone an' tell Romy we're in!"

"So he's 'Romy' now," Garfield remarked.

"You're CERTAIN this is what you want?" Peter asked, never letting his smile drop.

"I mean it, you guys!" Harley insisted. "I'm all in if you are! Ya can't tell me ya don' miss him."

"Well…" Garfield said by way of admission.

"Then it's full steam ahead," Peter declared.

"YAY!" Harley clapped.

Garfield withdrew his scroll, texting two simple words to Roman's: "We're in."

Eventually, all three of them did get tired, and even Garfield couldn't fight off sleep any longer. The two men returned to the room they'd rented out for themselves to turn in for the morning, drifting off to the crack of dawn. Harley tucked herself into her own bed and drew the curtains to prevent the shafts of morning sunlight from interrupting her daytime sleep.

She was troubled momentarily. Was it really such a good idea to try and make amends with Roman after all that had happened between them? But Garfield and Peter did miss him so, and they had made so many other friends on the WHAM ARMY that Harley knew she couldn't just let it rest, even if she were more important than all of them combined.

In this circumstance as well, time would tell.

And it was on that thought that she finally slipped into dreaming.

...

The Huntsman responded to the summons he'd received by scroll, striding into the room where Mozenrath stood over the long table. The sight of Hämsterviel standing on said table admittedly threw the Huntsman off and distracted him from wondering why he'd been called.

"What is this creature?" he asked gruffly.

"If you dare compare me to anything other than a hamster," Hämsterviel threatened, "I will not hesitate to torment you until your skull is laid bare as your tacky helmet."

"Because that's exactly the note I wanted to start this partnership on," Mozenrath groaned. "George, this is Dr. Jacques von Hämsterviel, our newest recruit. Hämsterviel, you already know George Liu, better known as the Huntsman in the field."

"And how would you know me?" the Huntsman asked. "You and I have never met. I would have remembered you."

"Hämsterviel had eyes on a lot of worlds," Mozenrath explained, "but your home planet was in his worldspace. As it turns out, he ALSO made an enemy of Experiment 626."

"And yet I made the irreconcilable mistake of hiring that demented doctor to pursue him instead of you," Hämsterviel added. "Though the ratio of dragon demises you caused to those you futilely pursued did not reflect well on your résumé."

"Did you call me here simply to be insulted?" the Huntsman asked Mozenrath.

"No," Mozenrath replied. "Hämsterviel, stop picking on my boyfriend."

"Or you'll do WHAT?" Hämsterviel barked at Mozenrath.

"You're small enough to throw out the nearest window," Mozenrath replied. "I want to see how far you'd float before you died of exposure."

Hämsterviel folded his tiny arms. "Point taken."

"The actual reason I summoned the two of you here," Mozenrath explained, "is for the purpose of strategy. We can no longer pursue the twelve artifacts. We need a different plan. A more DIRECT plan. A plan that offers more expedient gratification. A plan with RESULTS." He had begun pacing back and forth along the length of the table while stating this. "Now, I have such a plan in mind. I do hope you didn't think I was out of ideas just yet. But I do welcome input from both of you on fine-tuning it and molding it from an idea into a full-blown strategy. Dr. Hämsterviel, for his knowledge of the worlds and his ability to fill in the admittedly few gaps I have in my own repertoire. And George, for being my closest and most trusted confidante whose ideas are born of pure, nonsense-free logic. Between the three of us, we should be able to solidify our strategy by the end of the day."

George nodded. "I will assist however I can."

"I am certain I can answer whatever petty questions you come up with along the way," Hämsterviel added.

Mozenrath turned back to the table, laying both hands across its top. "You know," he remarked, "back in the Black Sands, I used to have a table with a map of the Seven Deserts carved into it. This seems about the right size for a proper war table. Of course, operating on the scale we are, being able to portray the multitude of worlds on it and swap between details of the alternating locations we target will require more than just a good engraving hand. There will be enchantments and sub-enchantments involved."

"Is he prattling about a table?" Hämsterviel said in disbelief.

"I would listen to him," the Huntsman answered. "Nothing he says is without a point."

Mozenrath looked to both. "I'm done taking the roundabout route," he said decisively. "This time, we won't be using tricks or back doors to take the whole multiverse in one go. I want us to gain territory, and I want it soon. Therefore, I've decided we're going back to basics. We're taking empires the old-fashioned way. We pick out what we want, we invade, and we usurp the throne. Certainly we have enough of a force built up by now that we can actually do some damage that way. Though it might not hurt to have a few extra hands on deck. You said you'd observed several villains who might qualify, Hämsterviel?"

"If your standard of qualification is fairly low," Hämsterviel answered. "If it is simply loose morals and heavy hitters you are seeking, however, I have quite an index."

"And that just might be enough," Mozenrath remarked. "After all, our bar is Snipe. That is not a difficult bar to clear. Now, you may be wondering: exactly where does our esteemed leader plan to establish the center of our dominion? While the warship is nice, and it technically is a kingdom, it's a hollow one. We need subjects. We need an infrastructure to exploit. We need something to boast in the faces of those who oppose us. As it happens, there is one piece of territory I realized I REALLY want. Somewhere big and prosperous enough to actually suit us, and somewhere we can hardly be opposed once we put up our banner. Somewhere incredibly magical."

"Stop attempting to murder us with the suspense!" Hämsterviel snapped.

Mozenrath smirked. "I propose our first conquest should be…"

He said a name.

"But which ONE?" Hämsterviel replied. "For unfathomable reasons, there is a near-infinite multitude of parallel versions of that kingdom!"

"I have only heard tell of two," the Huntsman admitted. "Though perhaps that is not the correct explanation. It did exist on my world, but many legends were documented by the Huntsclan regarding it, and over half those legends did not match the kingdom we knew. I developed the impression they must have referred to elsewhere, and once my knowledge of other worlds became clear, I knew it must have been another."

"And what did your mismatched legends say about that second kingdom?" Mozenrath asked.

"That it was defended by a power that rivaled godhood," the Huntsman answered. "Its technology was powered by an invaluable magic, but its defenses were so violent, it suffered its first downfall from within when those very defenses went awry. To invade it would be suicide."

Mozenrath allowed himself a small laugh. "You and I are thinking of the exact same place, George. And it's the only version of that place that matters."

He waved his right hand over the table, and a semitransparent illusion of the coveted kingdom spread out over the tabletop, allowing the Huntsman to compare the sights to illustrations he'd seen and confirm that "Yes, that is it indeed. It would be nigh impossible to invade through brute force. A small band might be able to enter through the art of deception, but what you are speaking of…I assume you have a plan to circumvent being vaporized on the spot."

"That's…actually the part I wanted your input on," Mozenrath admitted. "The only option I won't allow is to suggest not to do it at all."

"With you at our helm," the Huntsman replied, "I have come to believe the impossible can be undertaken. If this is where your sights are set, I will be at your side throughout its acquisition."

"You people are a bunch of blithering lunatics!" Hämsterviel remarked. "Which is exactly why I knew you were the perfect allies."

"There's more," Mozenrath went on. Flicking his hand, he dismissed the primary object of his ambition and replaced it with the view of a different kingdom, architecturally distinct; then another city, then an isle, then another empire. "I've actually marked out several places I want. Of course, once we have our base settled, anyone is free to suggest more. The point is going to be to take over as much as we can and end up with everything we want. The problem, of course, is that all of these territories are on different worlds. Meaning this would spread our forces thin and put an inconvenient commute between bases unless we figured out a way to consolidate our conquests spatially."

"You…wish to unite kingdoms from different worlds into the same landmass," the Huntsman said in disbelief.

"You doubt me?" Mozenrath asked.

"No," the Huntsman realized. "The impossible can be undertaken. It will, however, require thought."

"Ha!" Hämsterviel barked. "I know of no less than a hundred ways to bend space to your very will! It will simply be a matter of figuring out the right combination!"

Mozenrath dismissed the illusions from the table. "You know what we're after," he stated. "You know what we have to do with it. Now, we turn it into a strategy."

So began an outpouring of ideas. Some were refuted on the spot by another member of the trio. Others were set aside as possibilities, then brought out when they seemed to connect to a different relevant point.

Within a few hours, the strategy had been outlined.