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.

114. Mixed Duet

It had been a week since Amora had enslaved the hearts of Zhao and the Dark Ace, and now it had finally come to that time-honored tradition of rival lovers: a duel to the death.

The Dark Ace's sword blazed crimson in the dark of the audience chamber, cutting through the flames Zhao sent to incinerate him. Zhao feinted, then dodged the blade by a literal hair – which was sliced off the edge of his chin – before catching his knee up into the Dark Ace's solar plexus.

And above, on high, Loki and Victor von Doom watched. The latter stood before Maleficent's throne, and the former leaned against it, nestling an arm against a stone demon-wing.

"Do you expect me to be entertained by such baseless violence?" Doom sighed. "Surely you know me better than that, Loki."

"Oh, I do." Loki grinned. "Keep a mind to the time. You should find the true entertainment value of this venture in ten…nine…eight…"

Victor sighed, turning his attention to the battlefield once more.

"Three…"

The Dark Ace chopped at Zhao, who vaulted over the blade.

"Two…"

Zhao sent fireball after fireball at the Dark Ace, who zigzagged toward him, blade aloft.

"And the show concludes."

The green tint dissolved from both duelists' irises. Amora's enchantment had run its course and simply worn off.

"Why am I trying to slay you over the affections of a WOMAN?" the Dark Ace growled.

"Why am I trying to kill you over HER?" Zhao snarled.

"The witch," the Dark Ace realized. "No wonder she could outwit the Sky Siren. She's one of them."

"She bound us to her affections!"

"What do you say we put aside our differences and direct our anger where it belongs?" the Dark Ace seethed.

"She won't survive the day," Zhao agreed.

And then they were off.

Doom let out a snort; Loki recognized it for the origins of a laugh. "Little do they know the Enchantress is hardier than they suspect."

"Shall we change venues to watch it play out?"

Doom was silent.

"Ah," Loki observed. "I see."

"What is it you believe you see?"

"A great mind at work. But what are those inner workings? What vexes you so?"

"Few things vex Doom," the armored man said defensively. "Problems arise, and solutions are found."

"But what is this oh-so-pressing problem of yours, Victor? Could it have something to do with the scene we have just witnessed? Was there something here that was not to your liking beyond the banality?"

Doom knew trying to hide it from Loki was futile; once he'd picked up a scent, he would never let it down until he'd sunk his teeth into the quarry. "The Enchantress is a goddess among men – or sees herself thus. The mortals are as animals to her. She chooses them for entertainment, then sends them to the slaughter. None is meant to be permanent, for how many any mere mortal compare to the Enchantress' glory?"

"What a lovely sentiment," Loki replied cheekily. "Rather a shame that I know this is a metaphor for something else entirely. She would have loved the compliment, were it made in sincerity."

"Such are mortals to Asgardians," Doom growled. "Surely you see the paradox."

"Oh, dear. That is a quandary. It seems that you are mortal…and I Asgardian. And I have chosen you to be my…entertainment. What is stopping me from discarding you on a whim, now that it's mentioned? A sticky situation indeed."

"There is more to this than you let on," Doom accused. "Your tone betrays you."

"Well, if nothing else, you're far more perceptive than the average mortal," Loki revealed. "Do you truly believe either of those lesser men could read the true intent behind Amora's words, let alone mine? No…you have a mortal body, and yet a mind incomparable. Save, of course, to mine own."

"Spare your superficial words of flattery," Doom grunted, feathers obviously ruffled.

Loki lifted himself away from the throne, advancing to stand beside Doom. "But of course," he stated. "Words are but useless vapors, dissipating in the wind, nothing solid to tether them to reality. Perhaps what you need is an action. An action demonstrative of your true worth to me…of my admiration for you."

Doom turned to face Loki, and Loki could read the expression on the man's eyes through his mask instantly. "This was planned. The duel. Our attendance. You wished to broach the topic – or, rather, lead me to broach it. The perfect opening act for this gesture you have waiting."

Loki broke out laughing. "Do you not see now, Victor? Do you not see what sets you so far apart? Why you of all have managed to hold my attention this long? Do come with me, Victor. It's time we settle an important matter."

He grasped Doom's upper arm, and the two of them were suddenly in the lower catacombs, the scenery around them swirling into a new setting. Loki set off at a brisk pace, and Doom followed, utterly unsure what to expect.

Loki stopped before the door to the deepest and coldest of Maleficent's dungeons. "A gift waits for you beyond," he told Doom.

"A prisoner," Doom identified. "But of what sort?"

"I think you shall be quite glad to find out."

The door was unlocked, creaked open. Beyond, in a frost-filled room, people dressed in shining raiments were chained to the floor and walls, groaning through gags.

Doom knew that style of dress. "Asgardians."

"But of course. As I am their king, I have no short supply of raw material."

"To what purpose?"

"Why, Victor!" Loki chuckled. "I would think you would know."

"I know why I would wish Asgardians in my clutches. Tell me why you believe such a thing."

Loki strode into the cell, addressing his prisoners. "What a boon you have all been given by fate," he spat. "Longevity. Immortality. Strength beyond that of most mortal beings. And wasted on boors and buffoons. Each of you has failed me in a way, be it great or small. Particular care has been taken to select those of you who ALLOWED THE MORTALS' VANGUARD TO RUN RAMPANT IN OUR CASTLE, SEEKING OUT OUR PRIZED INFINITY STONE."

One of the men wriggled his mouth out of the iron band that had clenched the lower half of his face. "You had wanted that," he panted. "You had wanted them there! You had always meant to lure them closer to you!"

"But you did not know that, did you?" Loki responded, advancing upon the man.

"If I had," the man growled, "I would still be imprisoned for treason – for thwarting your plan, had I succeeded in killing them or dissuading them."

Loki's boot collided with the man's jaw. A sickening crack echoed in the cell; the others squirmed and whimpered.

"You commit treason to this very moment," Loki hissed. "I am still your king, and Doom itself my consort." He bent to whisper directly into the man's ear. "You will do as you are directed until your last breath. Either you will comply and die a loyal man, or be forced to your untimely conclusion and die a coward and a traitor. No matter the case, your blood SHALL be spilled for Asgard, and were I you, I would be quite grateful that your wife and children have been allowed to live in ignorance in the world above, believing you dead on a hunt."

He turned to walk back to Doom, spreading out his arms to indicate the other prisoners. "You had spoken to me, once, of wishing to obtain the DNA of Asgardians with which to distill our immortal essence. If you are the man I know and care for, then this desire has not abated. I present to you the raw material required to build your own immortality – to create a deserving body for your immaculate mind. I know not how…but that always was your milieu, was it not?"

Doom nodded, quite impressed. "This gift is most gracious. I should not have doubted your loyalties."

Loki stopped inches before Doom, tracing the lower half of his mask, where the mouth lay behind. "What else might I provide you, to loosen this mask and allow purchase?"

"A heavy door, locked to prevent any outsider, prisoner or ally, from seeing what lies beneath. As it always has been."

"Then let us retire. Never to worry, Victor. Only a truly unique mortal could deserve to accompany an Asgardian. Surely you know what that means for you. You are no mere Dark Ace."

As they proceeded from the cell, Loki gave the aggregated prisoners one last smirk before slamming the door on them, blanketing the cell in the cold and the dark.

...

Gill lay propped up on the edge of the deep end of the athletic-sized swimming pool of the warship, elbows back on the tile so he could keep his head above water. Pools weren't his favorite. He'd loved them as a child, but after he'd become predispositioned to breathe the water he swam in, he had discovered the hard way that breathing chlorine is less than ideal.

Oh, he'd survived. Chalk it up to the mutation. But it had left him bedridden with a nausea/hyperventilation/burning orifices triple combo for a week.

Still, he needed to be near the water, in the water, and that was why from the lower chest down, he was sunken into the pool, letting his feet dangle loosely. A little chlorine poisoning wasn't going to get in the way of his soak. In the water, he felt right. Free. Like he belonged.

They'd promised him an ocean, in this new empire. Now, salt, he could breathe. A whole ocean, with terrifying depths and neon monsters galore. He would have fun pushing his distance, battling the water pressure.

He leaned back, shutting his eyes to listen to the stillness of the room.

Which was almost immediately broken by the sounds of shouting and of running feet.

Gill's eyes snapped open just in time for him to see the four swimwear-clad people who were headed for the pool at full speed. Zevon swan-dove into the deep end first; Irmaplotz followed him with a cannonball. Jack Spicer tripped at the last minute, screaming as his stomach hit the water with a hard smack. And Draco Malfoy simply slipped into the pool without any grand entrance, clutching a buoyant ball.

"Hey, hey, HEY!" Gill put up a hand to shield his face, careful not to lose his purchase on the tile. "WATCH it! Chlorine and gills don't mix, you know!"

"There's no chlorine in this pool, idiot," Draco snapped. "It's kept purified with crystals."

Gill stared blankly at him.

"See?" Jack raised an arm to point at the line of crystals – transparent and colorless, save a softly pulsing yellow light – that ringed the pool's interior. Then: "Ow." From the flop.

So that was why this pool hadn't smelled as obnoxiously noxious as usual. Gill gave it a test, slowly lowering himself into the water a little more, a little more. It felt – it tasted – like ordinary water. No unnecessary chemicals added.

That was nice.

"So you're the new guy," Irmaplotz said as she tread water. "No offense, but you're repulsive."

"That's a compliment to me," Gill informed her with a smirk.

"A man of your piscicthyan physicalique must be predispositioned to aquathletics!" Zevon observed.

"He means you've got to be a good swimmer," Draco sighed.

"Oh?" Gill replied. "What was your first clue?"

"We all came up here because we got sick of the basement," Irmaplotz told him.

"Yeah!" Jack insisted. "We wanted to have some fun for a change! Not that building the deadly robotic arsenal for the WHAM ARMY isn't fun, but I am NOT about to become that dull boy from that thing everyone says. Especially because they always think it's funny because it's literally my name! IT'S NOT THAT FUNNY!"

"So you're saying you're gonna take over my pool," Gill groaned.

"YOUR pool?" Draco spat. "Who made it your Horcrux all of a sudden?"

"No one said you couldn't join us, jerk," Irmaplotz sighed.

"I'M saying that whatever you came in here to do, it's probably stupid," Gill sighed.

"Water polo," Jack clarified. "We came here for water polo. Or maybe volleyball. We figured we'd decide when we got here."

"Either way," Zevon insisted, "the fierocitatious confrompetition will be anything but asininsane!"

"DO YOU EVEN HEAR YOURSELF TALK?" Gill yelled at him.

"Weren't you, like, mutated before you hit middle school?" Jack recalled. "You've probably never even PLAYED water polo. Well, okay, neither have I, but the whole sports with a ball in the water thing. That's just, like, normal kid stuff. You're just mad because you weren't a normal kid!"

"I HAD enough of a childhood to be FINE," Gill growled. "After I mutated, I didn't need to be normal anymore! And I didn't need to play stupid water games!"

"Fine." Irmaplotz shrugged. "But we're gonna be using the pool whether you like it or not. Four against one."

"Though we will only require the deepths," Zevon clarified. "You may reclinax in the shallows if you're that repulsified by our 'stupid games.'"

"Fiiiiine," Gill grumbled as he disappeared beneath the surface, gliding smoothly under the water until he resurfaced on the shallow end, repositioning himself there.

Keeping an eye on the other four. Not that he was jealous of their ability to be carefree or anything. (If you could ever, truly, call Draco "carefree.") And this definitely had nothing to do with him actually wanting to learn the rules of water polo and not wanting to lower himself enough to ask.

"He'd just screw up the team order anyway by making it an odd number," Jack huffed. "Let's go! Best romance versus Diagon Alley buddies!"

"CHALLENGE ACCEPTEN-GARDE!" Zevon snapped playfully.

So Gill watched them. He watched them play water polo (without him). He watched them get into a screaming match over whether or not Draco had been cheating (without him). He watched them set up a volleyball net and play volleyball in the deep end (without him). He watched them laugh and become thoroughly soaked (without him).

It eventually hit him that he couldn't let this go on as-was.

The other thing that hit him was the ball. Right in the face.

"EEP!" Jack screeched. "SORRY! PLEASE DON'T DRAG ME TO THE DEPTHS OF YOUR UNDERWATER KINGDOM AND EITHER DROWN ME OR FORCE ME TO BE YOUR HUSBAND!"

"…What?" Gill asked, utterly perplexed as he held onto the ball.

"That's kelpies," Irmaplotz sighed.

"Is he NOT a KELPIE?" Jack countered.

"NO, I'm not a – " Gill sighed. "Y'know what game wouldn't actually be stupid?"

"Why are you bringing THAT up all of a sudden?" Draco asked.

"I think he's lonesomely," Zevon said with a smirk.

"I AM NOT LONESOMEL – LONELY," Gill growled. "I just had way too much time to watch you play your stupid games and remember the one that actually wasn't stupid."

"Well, what is it, then?" Draco asked.

Gill's smirk was positively devious. "You guys've played dodgeball, right?"

"DODGEBALL?" Jack screeched. "THE BANE OF MY EXISTENCE? Oh, I've played, all right. I've played my fair share. And you know what? I learned how not to get hit. I made sure they whittled it down to just me and one other guy on that field every time. …Then the other guy would hit me right in the face. If I never play dodgeball again, it'll be TOO SOON!"

"But now you are among kinshipdred spirits!" Zevon reminded him. "We are friend, not foenemy! Permayhaps it is time to reclaimate dodgeball in a more evillainous spirit!"

"You know what?" Jack realized. "You're right! Even if I didn't understand half of what you said just now. But I think I got the point out of context. I'm a real villain now, not some punk who everyone else thinks is the class loser! Dodgeball can be MY GAME now!"

"Oh, but it's no fun if we play the normal way," Gill explained. "There are only five of us. I say we adjust the rules a bit. For one, we stay in the pool."

"I like this already," Irmaplotz stated. "…Even if I don't actually know what dodgeball is."

Gill groaned. "Okay. FROM THE TOP. In a normal game, it's a free-for-all. Everybody gets a ton of balls, and we just pelt the squeebs as hard as we can. You get hit, you're off the field. You catch the ball, the guy who threw it's out."

"That sounds strangely satisfying," Draco muttered.

"Buuuuuut in OUR version," Gill went on, "there aren't enough people for that to be fun. So we're throwing out those rules except for the pelting part. We just keep score by how many times we get in a hit on another person. Nobody leaves. No escape."

"Done," Draco stated immediately.

"You are very enthusiastical for this game," Zevon observed.

"First thing we need is more balls," Gill stated.

This was followed by a long silence.

"Is anybody going to…?" Irmaplotz asked tentatively.

"It's too easy," Jack sighed.

"And too crass," Draco grunted.

With that out of the way, Irmaplotz volunteered, "I can make something that works. Actually might be more fun this way."

She threw both hands straight up into the air, and fluid spheres carved themselves out of the pool water itself, hovering a few feet above the surface.

"These are going to be SO much more satisfying to splash in other people's faces," she stated.

"I CONCURRATE!" Zevon cried.

"So how do we start?" Draco asked. "Are we going to count down, or – "

"We start on three," Gill declared. "One…"

And then he slapped the nearest watery sphere directly toward Jack so that it smacked into the redhead with a splash.

"NO FAIR!" Jack screamed.

"Too bad, squeeb!" Gill saluted him. "I don't play fair!" With that, he dove into the depths.

What followed was absolute war.

Jack had finally gotten the upper hand, throwing sphere after sphere at Irmaplotz – but punctuating each with an "I LOVE YOU, SORRY! I LOVE YOU, SORRY! I LOVE YOU, SORRY!"

Draco crashed a sphere down on Jack's head from above. "Where was this game back when I was a child?" he muttered. "I've needed this."

"SNEAK ATTACK!" Zevon yelled as he rose behind Draco. "BA-BAM – "

Draco shifted, letting the sphere fly past.

"How did I miss?" Zevon groaned.

"Maybe if you don't preface your sneak attacks by yelling 'SNEAK ATTACK,'" Draco sighed.

Both were then bombarded with a rain of spheres. "FORGOT TO TELL YOU GUYS!" Irmaplotz cackled as she continued the onslaught. "I THROW LIKE A GIRL!"

"UNFORTUNAMATELY FOR US, SHE DOES!" Zevon screeched.

Gill, however, was owning the field. He would pop up out of the water like a breaching fish, scooping up a ball as he ascended into the air, then bring it down hard on the nearest opponent as he splashed back down and disappeared into the waters. He would then careen across the pool, emerge again, and repeat the process.

"YOU DON'T STAND A CHANCE!" he taunted during one flight. Splash. Wait. Resurface; "WATER IS MY ELEMENT!"

This continued until a sphere caught him on the zenith of his latest arc, sending him plummeting with a "WAGH!" and smacking the surface of the water.

Gill righted himself, glowering at the perpetrator.

"Wait a minute!" Jack realized. "That actually WORKED! I just totally owned you! You, the fish guy, just got owned by THE BIGGEST LOSER ON THE TEAM! No, wait – can I take that part back?"

Gill pointed at Jack menacingly; "YOU'RE DEAD MEAT."

Jack swallowed hard. "On second thought…AAAAAAAAAAGH!"

Gill pursued him relentlessly, soaking him with the water-balls until he was at last satisfied. By then, everyone else had gotten rather bored of the game, and they retreated to hang out on the edges of the pool.

"So what now?" Irmaplotz asked.

"You know," Zevon recalled, "there was an intereguiging game I learned about during my travels across the worlds. A game played completely underbeneath the water, passing a ball to a goal. It was called…Blitzenkriegball!"

"And none of us will ever know if that's what the game is truly called," Draco sighed. "But I'm looking for a change of pace. What are the rules?"

"Well, first, we need even teams," Zevon realized. "That could pose a problematication. After all, it's not like a sixth player is going to APPEARATE OUT OF THIN AIR!"

And nothing happened.

"I SAID," Zevon asserted, "IT'S NOT LIKE A SIXTH PLAYER IS GOING TO APPEARATE OUT OF THIN AIR!"

"What are you doing?" Draco asked.

"Whenever someone says anything akindred to that," Zevon explained, "that is when exactamently what was descrptibed shows up, in a twist of ironicary!"

"Oh, so like a cued joke," Irmaplotz realized. "Yeah, that usually works. Maybe it's because you mispronounced a word." She cleared her throat. "IT'S NOT LIKE A SIXTH PLAYER IS GOING TO APPEAR OUT OF THIN AIR!"

Still nothing.

"You guys are idiots," Gill sighed.

"No, this works, I think," Jack mused. "Zevon, is this like what happened to our moms earlier today in the lab, with the whole montage – why is everyone staring at me like that?"

Irmaplotz spoke up: "Did you just call Wuya – "
"I MEANT YOUR MOM AND MY ANNOYING MENTOR!" Jack screeched. "I SLIPPED, okay? Everyone's called the kindergarten teacher 'Mom' once in their life!"

"Yes, but they stop after leaving nursery school," Draco jeered.

"CAN A SIXTH PLAYER JUST SHOW UP OUT OF THIN AIR ALREADY?" Jack cried.

In a plume of blue smoke, Mozenrath appeared at the side of the pool. "I'm not angry," he said flippantly. "I just want to know who has it."

"…I guess fourth time was the charm," Irmaplotz muttered.

"Who has what?" Gill asked. "You lose your marbles?"

"Oh, ha ha," Mozenrath retorted, rolling his eyes. "No, I brought a book about crystals down to the lab for some light reading on my last visit to check progress on the…POTATO. I forgot it on my way up, but when I returned, it was gone. Like I said, I'm not angry. I'm just rounding up all the usual suspects who spend time in the lab to see who has my book."

"That would be me!" Zevon proclaimed. "I had thought the book simply misplacerated, and was unawarable that it had a currentical reader! You may find it in my locker! The combination is my birthday, 13-0-3-16-14! That's for 13 baktun – "

"I know how it works," Mozenrath sighed. "Thank you for owning up, at least."

"Hey, Moze." Gill playfully splashed a swath of water toward the sorcerer, which was hastily dodged. "Why don't you take a load off and get in here with us? We need a sixth player for…this game Zevon's trying to get us to play."

"I don't think so," Mozenrath said sternly with a glare. "As if I'd waste my time on something so immature."

"Awww, c'mon!" Jack urged. "It's fun!"

"I don't do 'fun,'" Mozenrath reminded him.

"I am elderlolder than you!" Zevon pointed out. "Do you think what I do for recreationality is immaturical?"

"No comment," Mozenrath sighed.

"I'M playing these silly water games," Draco argued, "and I'm a harder sell than you for this sort of thing."

"Thanks, but no thanks," Mozenrath told him.

Then Gill pierced his armor: "Sounds like you're making excuses 'cause you don't know how to swim."

Mozenrath flinched visibly. "What – I don't – of course I know how to swim! I just have no interest in WASTING MY TIME!"

Gill gaped at him. "Wow. Y'know, I was just insulting you because that's what I usually do anyway, but you actually can't swim, can't you?"

"This discussion is over," Mozenrath said as he turned on a heel and stormed away, cape fluttering.

"YOU DON'T HAVE TO BE EMBARRASSED!" Irmaplotz yelled at him. "LOTS OF PEOPLE DON'T KNOW HOW TO SWIM!"

"I'M NOT EMBARRASSED," Mozenrath yelled back, "BECAUSE THERE'S NOTHING TO BE EMBARRASSED ABOUT!"

Before Mozenrath could exit completely, Gill managed to get in, "WELL, THE LONGER YOU GO WITHOUT DOING ANYTHING ABOUT IT, THE MORE PEOPLE I'M GONNA TELL!"

"Why?" Jack asked once Mozenrath was gone. "What do you even get out of people knowing that Mozenrath can't swim?"

"Fun," Gill stated. "I believe they call it schadenfreude."

"That's not how you pronounce it," Zevon stated.

"PLEASE SPARE US," Draco groaned. "Also, we've gone back to square one for your blitz-game. It isn't as though a sixth player is going to materialize out of the water."

The area of pool next to him bubbled and splashed of its own accord before rising up, forming itself into a bipedal shape that stood upon the pool's surface.

"Well, that took less effort than last time," Irmaplotz remarked.

Fully formed atop the pool's surface, the Liquidator gestured out to the swimmers; "In need of an even number? Will only the best do for athletic prowess? Don't hesitate! Call THE LIQUIDATOR today!"

"How long were you hiding in the water, spying on us?" Gill asked.

"I just arrived through the filters now!" the Liquidator stated. "The Liquidator is one hundred percent stalker-free! …Offer extends only to friends and family. Strangers and enemies may encounter stalking."

"Oooooooh," Jack realized, "Gill, you're in trouuuuu-blllllle! Water really IS this guy's element!"

"Don't try me," Gill growled.

"Tired of imitation elementals boasting piscine features?" the Liquidator asked. "Upgrade today to pure, grade-A H20 mutant!"

"Are you doing this on purpose so I'll really, REALLY wanna kick your watery butt?" Gill groaned.

"Competition!" the Liquidator proclaimed. "Now with fifty percent more smack-talk! Guaranteed to spice up any rivalry in ten minutes or less!"

"Just stop talking and play," Draco groaned. "I can't listen to you pitch my entire life to me as though I've got to pay a ten-Galleon fee to exist in it."

"Name the game!" the Liquidator demanded. "The Liquidator can adapt to any competition!"

"Blitzenkriegball," Zevon stated.

"Oh, BLITZBALL!" the Liquidator realized. "The grammar-check is complimentary! The Liquidator is, of course, equipped to match any game…but have you considered an upgrade in the playing field?"

"What kind of upgrade are we talking?" Jack asked.

"Watch as the Liquidator transforms this ordinary pool just like magic!"

The dog threw both hands to the sky, and he began to sink – because the pool's surface level was lowering. The water drained out, cascading upward around the edges of the pool, until the pool itself was empty, five swimmers standing rather coldly in the stone basin, and the water was held in a perfect globe shape in the vaulted air space above.

"THAT IS SO COOL!" Jack cried.

"Yeah, but how are we supposed to get UP there?" Gill asked snidely.

"Oh, gee, I don't know," Irmaplotz replied. "If only there was a sorceress here who could levitate all of you or something."

"That would be nice," Zevon agreed.

"I CAN DO IT," Irmaplotz growled.

"Teams," Draco broke in. "Zevon, me, and the dog versus Spicer, the princess, and the fish."

"Hey, no fair!" Jack countered. "How come YOU get the better mutant?"

"I AM THE BETTER MUTANT!" Gill argued.

"The best way to prove that claim is through a demonstration!" the Liquidator urged.

"Oh, you are ON!" Gill cried.

Within minutes, the six were struggling for dominance of the ball in the sphere of water above, those unequipped for extended underwater stays bolstered by Draco's bubble-head charms.

...

Aerrow had a pretty good head for directions and spatial reasoning. One tour of the castle was all it took for him to get the basic layout down in his mind. When he went wandering, he was certainly not lost.

However, he was also an explorer by nature. He wasn't content with saying that he knew the castle well enough for his liking, and that was enough for him to remain in his room, content. No, he wanted to refamiliarize with what he already knew, take in the sights a second time to further engrave them in his mind.

He came upon the doors leading out to the courtyard, and peered through an archway to see if the outdoor space was occupied. In fact, it was. Ruby Rose had arrived very early for the daily RNJR-and-Kairi spar session, and was passing the time by practicing with her scythe.

This happened to be one of the most hypnotic things Aerrow had ever seen in his life.

She danced. She whirled. The scythe flew, carving the air around her, seeming to threaten to slice her in half but for her deft mastery of the weapon. It bent to her will. It obeyed, a metal familiar that would never bite its owner. She hoisted it effortlessly, giving out little cries as she danced an intricate ballet with the swooping scythe.

"She's really somethin', isn't she?"

Aerrow flinched, giving a "Gah!" upon realizing he wasn't alone. He looked to his left and up to see Buzz Lightyear standing beside him.

"Uh…yeah," Aerrow told him. "She's great. Really great."

"I know that look in your eyes," Buzz teased. "Believe me, it's not every day you come across a woman who can wield a weapon like that."

"She's…beautiful," Aerrow admitted. "I think I might actually…" He shut his eyes, shook his head. "Nah, it's too soon for anything like that. But I do really wanna be her friend."

"So what's stopping you?"

Aerrow sighed. "I guess I'm…nervous. Huh. Funny how I can face down the entirety of Cyclonia without breaking a sweat, but I can't just go talk to a cool girl."

"Oh, you can talk to her, all right," Buzz encouraged. "All you need is the courage."

"Maybe it's not a good idea. She's obviously busy, and – "

"Hey, RUBY!"

"Oh, no."

Buzz had begun to stride into the courtyard; Ruby halted with a "Huh?" to look toward him.

"Aerrow and I were just watchin' the practice," Buzz told her. "Weren't we, Aerrow?"

Aerrow hadn't moved. Buzz turned to beckon him forward. "C'mon!"

"Uh…right!" Aerrow trotted out onto the field, realizing that he was simply making everything awkward. "You're…good. With your weapon. I mean."

Ruby found herself blushing, rocking back and forth. "Thanks," she replied, somewhat shyly. "You were pretty good too, back on Atmos."

"See?" Buzz stated as he spread his arms out to both. "You got a lot in common! Weapons and fighting and…well, I'm sure a whole bunch of other stuff!"

"I'm…curious about what else we have in common," Ruby admitted.

"Maybe…you…wanna find out?" Aerrow offered. "We could…I dunno…"

"Hang out for a bit!" Buzz filled in. "Hey, you two are warriors. How about a friendly spar, huh?"

"That's not a bad idea!" Aerrow hastened to chirp. "I do always carry the Lightning Claw on me in case of an emergency." He retrieved the blades from his belt, striking a pose with them. "Ta-da!"

And then wanted to go bury himself in the corner of the courtyard for having done something so silly.

"Sounds like fun," Ruby agreed. "Okay. Let's go." She hoisted Crescent Rose high. "You ready?"

"Born ready!"

She swung, gingerly. He dodged it expertly, twirling the Lightning Claw blades. She ducked both of them, Crescent Rose spinning around to come from behind her back. Buzz took a seat on a nearby bench.

"So, uh…I know you know a bit about me," Aerrow began as he ducked and danced away from Ruby's blade. "I mean, you came to Atmos and all. But what about you? Are you some kind of team captain?"

"Yeah, you could say that," Ruby replied. "I was the leader of a huntress-in-training team back at a school on my homeworld. We were training to fight these huge monsters of Darkness. Not the Heartless. The other huge monsters of Darkness. But we got paired off into fours – no, wait, you don't get 'paired off' into fours – grouped into fours, and every team got a name after a color, and whoever's first is the team leader, and my team is Team RWBY. My friends Weiss, Blake, and Yang. Well, okay, Yang's a little more than my friend. She's my sister. But, uh…none of them are here right now, because…well, our kingdom kinda got attacked by the bad guys and we all split up because we were dealing with some issues."

"Wow," Aerrow told her. "That's rough. I had a hard enough time spending that long away from my team. Hey, did anyone ever think you were too young to be able to lead a team? They always say that about me. They say that about the whole team, actually."

"Well, yeah," Ruby admitted. "I kinda got taken into Beacon Academy a couple years early, so lots of people think I'm just a kid compared to the others. Yang's actually technically a grown-up now, and I'm not, and she's my classmate, and that's so weird to think about. But I'm not letting that stop me!"

"You shouldn't! Just because we're young doesn't mean we can't do a lot of good! After all, if we don't stand up, then who will?"

"Exactly!" Ruby cried. "There's always hope, and we can all do something for those we haven't lost yet!"

"…I'm sorry your homeworld got attacked," Aerrow said somberly. "I know how rough that can be. Cyclonis mowed down half of Atmos during her reign, and the Storm Hawks had to pick up the pieces. Sometimes, I was worried that maybe things would never be the same. But I knew I couldn't let myself keep thinking like that. I had to keep going, for the sake of…well, those we hadn't lost yet. And it's what my dad would've wanted."

"Oh? Who was your dad?"

"Lightning Strike was the previous captain of the Storm Hawks. He…died ten years before I ever took up the position."

"Oh. I'm sorry." Ruby kept swinging, even though she felt her heart grow heavy. "Losing a parent is…rough. Did you at least have your mom?"

"No. But it's fine! The Storm Hawks are like my family, and Stork's…kinda like a mom?"

Ruby chuckled.

"What's your family like?" Aerrow asked. "Mom? Dad?"

"Just Dad," Ruby sighed. "And Yang. And our dog, Zwei."

"Oh. I'm sorry."

"It's okay. Seriously. Mom left me some…big shoes to fill. But remembering how she used to be, when I was still a kid and she was still around…it helps. Memories are sometimes the best things we have, right?"

"Yeah. It's the same with me and my dad. He left me some big shoes to fill, too. It looks like you did a good job of it, though."

"So did you."

Aerrow stumbled, tripping over his heel and landing on his seat. "Guess I surrender," he laughed.

Ruby set Crescent Rose aside, extending a hand to help him up. "I know I haven't known you that long, but you seem like a great captain to me."

Aerrow took the hand gladly. "I don't even see how you're 'training.' You're way better than me!"

"Stop it. I'm not."

"Yeah, you are!"

"Ah, young love," Buzz sighed wistfully. "Such a beautiful thing."

...

Draco Malfoy had dried off with precision and care after the pool. As he strode toward the training room, he was proud of the fact that his clothing was wrinkle-free even after a sit in the locker, his hair was coiffed without a strand out of place, and not a drop of water remained where it shouldn't.

Finally, a place where his perfection felt like it mattered. Around here, you either strived for the same or you rejected it on purpose. No one really called you names for it and meant it. What an atmosphere Mozenrath had created, that you could feel superior even while everyone else was on your level, more or less.

Draco's graceful gait was then met with a jarring foil as he entered the training room. A four-way brawl had broken out in the open area. It seemed two of the new recruits had wanted to face off against two who found this old hat.

Monkey Fist beat his chest and gave a primate screech before leaping toward Katnappé, a leg extending to sweep at her. Katnappé sprang high like a feline, somersaulting over Monkey Fist and swiping her claws out to Shego. Shego caught Katnappé's hands in her own, a green glow protecting her from the spikes, and whirled the blonde around to forcefully hurl her across the field, knocking down Monkey Fist in the process. But Shego was given no rest, forced to then duck and jump to avoid Lady Caine's blade. Lady Caine was dauntless in her onslaught, giving Shego quite the workout until Monkey Fist outright landed on her back to pull her off course.

Draco had been expecting Wuya or another veteran around. Only those four occupied the room. He gingerly picked his way around the battlefield, avoiding the swinging fists, swiping claws, and whirling blades. His goal was the weaponry on the far wall.

He'd been giving the staff some more thought…and still come up with nothing. No, not exactly nothing. One idea had occurred to him. But on its own, it was only half potent. He'd simply wondered: was crystal technology only limited to what was found on Atmos, or were crystals universal in how they fueled power?

Reverently, he lifted a staff down from the wall, feeling it in his hands. So big. So unwieldy. And yet so much more powerful than a wand, if he could figure out how to channel it properly. He reached into his pocket to retrieve the cornerstone of his idea and immediately became aware of a hovering presence that felt annoyingly close.

"Don't you have something better to do," he spat, "like try to rip each other's heads off?"

"Oh, we'll go back to that in a minute," Katnappé told him. "But right now, we're all curious to see what crystal you picked for that staff."

Draco groaned. "You gossiped about me."

"I can't help it! You're just the purrrrrr-fect conversation topic!" Katnappé chuckled. "So, tell me. Did you pick something that gives you a specific and quirky power?"

"Oh, please." Shego rolled her eyes. "The kid needs raw power. Whoever wins the day is whoever has the strongest fire. And with a brat used to relying on long-range magic to win his fights? Uh-uh. Not gonna get anywhere until he picks out something with punch."

"Raw power without creativity?" Lady Caine sniffed. "I don't think so. Don't go for quirky. Go for unique. Go for the ace up the sleeve that nobody else is gonna have or be able to beat."

"WILL YOU ALL STOP DECIDING MY POWER FOR ME?" Draco bellowed as he whirled on the quartet – none of whom backed down. So they were all that type. Unflappable. And he definitely didn't have threats of Lucius to fall back on, either. Only his own fiber. "I'm going to decide it my bloody self, understand?"

"Yes, but if I may," Monkey Fist broke in.

"You DARE?" Draco countered.

"As a matter of fact, I do dare," Monkey Fist went on calmly. "I was merely about to suggest that you pursue a route that would allow you to draw power from your environment, such as absorbing the mastery of Monkey Kung Fu."

Draco bristled. Now his idea wasn't even going to look like he was the one who'd come up with it. "As a matter of fact," he seethed, "I'd thought of that. After all, our lord and leader came with some unique magic of his own that he isn't using to its full potential. Look."

He held up the shimmering teal crystal so that it caught the light.

"And I'm looking at…what, exactly?" Shego grunted.

"IT'S A CRYSTAL OF IX!" Draco spat. "It absorbs magic from its surroundings, then channels that magic to the user! If I incorporate it into my staff, then it'll drain others' powers to give me more!"

"Oh, that IS creative," Lady Caine congratulated. "So then what?"

Draco glowered at her.

"I mean, most of these weapons have room for at least two crystals," Lady Caine went on. "And the Crystal of Ix sounds more like the beginning of a plan than a whole quirk."

"I rather like it," Monkey Fist stated. "Even if it is…remedial."

"IT WAS WHAT YOU BLOODY SUGGESTED!" Draco shook a fist at Monty.

"Well, yes, but I didn't expect you to play it by the book," Monkey Fist replied. "No twists. No signatures."

"Yeah, I just think it's dumb." Shego gave her eyes a dramatic roll. "Magic. Please."

"AREN'T YOUR HANDS MAGIC?" Draco countered.

"NOOOOO," Shego snarled, "they are a MU-TA-TION."

"That puts you far beneath me," Draco growled. "It's all I hear. Mutant this; mutant that. It's a poor substitute for magic."

"Ooooh, kitty's got a temper," Katnappé teased, swiping a claw playfully at Draco. "Just ignore him. He's jealous that he doesn't have anything as satisfying as a built-in mutation."

"I mean, a lot of us don't have mutations," Lady Caine brought up, "and we're on the same level. …You don't even have one. You just have claws in your suit."

"And a Lotus Twister up my sleeve," Katnappé reminded her. "That's sort of like a mutation…and sort of like magic."

"CAN YOU ALL JUST LEAVE ME THE HELL ALONE?" Draco snapped.

His hackles went up when a pair of long, slender hands settled over his shoulders from behind. A chocolate-deep voice crooned into his ear, "Dear, dear. Are these second-rate simpletons bothering you? It always is the cats for some reason, I find."

Draco whirled, nearly smacking Ragdoll in the face with the staff in his hand; "HOW DID YOU GET IN HERE?"

Ragdoll inclined his head up toward the ventilation duct, which was now missing a grate.

"I don't need YOU haranguing me on top of all this," Draco seethed.

"Oh, there's no haranguing about this," Ragdoll assured him. "I'm actually on your side, you know. True, I may be rather ordinary in comparison to you or the resident mutants…then again, triple-jointedness is a gift…but there's something in your argument that catches my attention."

"And what's that?"

"The fact that you're the underdog against four nosy busybodies, and I'm rather in the mood to cause trouble."

"Well, that figures," Lady Caine huffed as she rolled her eyes.

"And who is this?" Monkey Fist asked. "Some sort of…doll-man?"

"Ragdoll, actually," Ragdoll corrected. "You were close."

"And what sort of style of combat does a 'Ragdoll' practice?" Monkey Fist asked. He then chuckled; "Lying prone on the floor while enemies circle? Bending to every hit?"

"You're the guy who ran out on us, right?" Katnappé identified. "And then the cat dragged you right back in."

"The Torchwick, actually," Ragdoll corrected.

"So what's this guy's deal?" Shego asked.

"I'm not even sure," Katnappé scoffed. "He can't be THAT big of a deal."

"He's some kind of acrobat," Lady Caine sniffed. "I think he's a circus guy?"

"How absolutely droll," Monkey Fist stated with a smirk.

"It is droll, isn't it?" Ragdoll teased. "But you four, well, you're serious business. No tomfoolery about you whatsoever. Would you consider letting a practitioner of tomfoolery in on your little spar? I am ever so rusty, after all."

Shego shrugged; "Why not? After all, it's not every day you get a CRASH TEST DUMMY gift-wrapped for you."

"Then it's settled!" Ragdoll beamed. "Oh, and shall we put a little wager on this? If I should, hm, I don't know, best you all in combat, then you'll have to admit that mutations are inferior to magic."

"That does you no good," Draco hissed to him.

"Oh, it will do plenty of good if it causes dissent and annoyance," Ragdoll countered. "Which is all I can ask for, really. Also, you'll have to stop picking on our young friend here."

"This is getting suspicious," Shego realized. "You're making all the terms. That means you know something we don't."

"Oh, come now," Monkey Fist encouraged, "do you really think this lost toy has anything on the combined might of a monkey ninja, a radioactive supervillainess, a cat burglar, and a swordswoman working in combat?"

"I say we take the bet," Lady Caine suggested. "He's COUNTING on us getting scared. It's a bluff."

"Let's see if there's any catnip in this toy!" Katnappé laughed.

"Ugh, fine," Shego sighed. "You're on. No way a stick figure like you has anything on us."

"Before we begin," Ragdoll asked, "does anyone else have any clever metaphors they'd like to use to describe me? I was quite enjoying the variety. 'Crash test dummy,' 'lost toy,' 'stick figure,' that little catnip comment…would there be more?"

The four sparring buddies exchanged looks of confusion.

Ragdoll shrugged. "Oh, well. Shall we begin, then?"

Draco, having a good feeling he knew where this was going, stepped back three large paces, where he focused on attaching the Crystal of Ix to his staff.

Shego was gung-ho to begin, lighting up both hands and charging Ragdoll with a "HYARGH!". However, where he had been, he no longer was by the time she got there, her hands swiping through empty air.

A tap on her shoulder. She whirled to give the offender a faceful of radiation. However, Ragdoll wasn't there, either. At least, his upper half wasn't – quickly folded back over to be out of range of the blast. As for his lower half, his leg made short work of wrapping around Shego's and tripping her hard.

As Shego went down with a yell, Ragdoll snapped upright, then bent forward to create a wagon-wheel shape that missed the slashes of Katnappé's claws. Round and round the cat burglar he rolled, cackling as she missed him repeatedly until finally losing her balance and toppling.

Like a spring, Ragdoll unfolded and launched into the air, pivoting so his hands came down on Lady Caine's shoulders to throw her forward and off balance. She recovered, turning Tsumugari on him, but he had kept his grip even as he landed to her back, his wrists bent at an impossible angle, and when she moved, so did he, like a waltzing partner, making her a meat-shield for him. Then, when he got bored of that, he propelled himself between her lower legs, pulling her back before finally relinquishing her shoulders. As he resurfaced in front of Lady Caine, he delivered a swift kick to her sword-holding wrist, thereby sending Tsumugari flying.

He knew Monkey Fist would be on him next, and he fell in step as though the other half of a puzzle – perfectly matching, outwitting, countering the ninja's moves. "My, don't we have chemistry," Ragdoll teased before putting Monkey Fist into a headlock – and the next thing Monty knew, he'd been somehow flipped, hitting the floor hard.

By then, Shego, Katnappé, and Lady Caine had risen again, ready for their revenge. Ragdoll performed a handspring to land dead center of them just as Monkey Fist had also risen. "Hel-looooooo," he teased with his usual grin, waving playfully.

All four rushed him at once.

But then he was gone again, slithering across the floor, and the collision ended up flinging all four across the training grounds.

Ragdoll rolled until he hit the wall, at which point he unfolded to stand, leaning against the wall casually – though the way he had one leg wrapped around the other before planting that foot against the wall didn't look comfortable from an ordinary standard. "Oh, dear," he remarked. "You all look such fools. Who could have seen this coming?"

"SHUT IT!" Shego growled as she peeled herself off the wall and stormed out of the grounds.

"This is not over, doll," Monkey Fist hissed as he followed her.

"Not saying it," Lady Caine scoffed as she strode away. "Don't even have a horse in this race, so not saying it."

"What a cat-astrophe," Katnappé sighed as she trudged after.

"Well, that was fun!" Ragdoll said to Draco. "Now, I believe you owe me some sort of gratitude."

"I owe you nothing, Muggle." Draco flicked the crystal he'd attached to his staff before taking his leave as well. "If you were after my allegiance, you certainly didn't do a good job. That was utterly disgusting to even glimpse."

"Oh, but I didn't do it for you, remember?" Ragdoll reminded him on the way out. "I just did it to get a rise out of everyone. And that certainly worked according to plan."

Alone in the training room, he mused, "You know, I do believe I'm already above the level of anything to practice here…but it never hurts to stay in shape."

...

The television Ienzo had installed was, that day, being utilized for more joyous purposes than watching copies of best friends die on reality programming. Instead, Ruby Rose had acquired a game console that Mickey had helped design and was "beta testing" a fighting game on it, meaning she was just having a lot of fun beating up two-dimensional characters while sitting on the floor with two bowls nearby. In one bowl was a cache of strawberries. In the other, chili sauce. Between rounds, she would dip a strawberry into the chili sauce, then down it in one bite.

Fighting the AI program was fun and all, but Ruby was starting to wish she had an opponent she could actually trash-talk. For now, all she could do was scream as her character was given a beatdown by the hard-mode AI. When Booster Munchapper curiously entered the room, he was first greeted by the sound of Ruby yelling "NonononononoNO! NOOOOOOO!" and the sight of her leaning back, forth, and side-to-side as though that would do anything to her onscreen character. "DangitdangitDANGIT – gggrrraAAAAAHHHH! NO!"

She pouted at a defeat screen, then quickly switched to what she believed to be righteous anger: "I'll get you yet."

"What are you playing?" Booster asked, certain that whatever could get a person to react that strongly must be worth a shot.

"Oh!" Ruby flinched, having been unaware of his presence up until that moment, before looking up to him. "Just a game that Mickey and Ienzo wanted me to demo before it went public. It's a fighter, but since Mickey made it, it's kinda cutesy, and none of the attacks actually do any gory damage, which I kinda like, but I also kinda wanna see some gore. I dunno, I prefer a middle road. I kinda proved it plays just fine about an hour and a half ago, but…it's just so fun…"

"Mind if I play?" Booster asked, noting a second controller lying atop the console.

"YES!" Ruby cried, eyes wide and sparkling, before realizing how that had sounded. "I mean NO, I don't mind, YES, please play with me, I'm getting so tired of fighting the AI and I've almost won all the heart medals!"

Before Booster could comprehend what she'd done, she had sped to grab the second controller, then run it to sit beside her. She then patted the floor next to her, smiling up at Booster.

Booster took the invitation, sitting down next to Ruby and gathering up the controller – a little small in his hands, but not unworkable. "So who's the best character to pick?" he asked as Ruby guided them both to the selection screen.

"Well, I've been getting most of my wins with – " Ruby halted midsentence. "…Aaaaactually, Hollow Tree is a terrible character. So I'm going to take him so you don't have to be him. Miss Bonbon is really powerful, if you wanna take her."

"Wait a minute…why does it sound like you're lying so I'll take the weakest character?"

"WHAT? Noooooo!" Ruby said hurriedly. "Why would I do tha-ha-haaaat? That is not – I have never done that before in my life."

"Ah, well…" Booster chose the blonde candy-girl with the literal honey hair and pastel ballgown. "I'm not playing to win anyway. Just to have fun."

"Yup, definitely the same here," Ruby muttered as she selected a solidly built and steel-gray tree with no leaves on his branches. "Now let's dance!"

It was quite clear that Miss Bonbon was the weak link of the roster while Hollow Tree was one of the better fighters – not to mention Ruby had memorized the combos that would allow the tree to deal maximum damage, unleashing a stream of bats from his mouth onto Miss Bonbon to frighten her before taking several heart points. "Ohohohoho, TASTE MY EVIL TREE POWERS!" Ruby cackled.

"It's not over yet!" Booster proclaimed. "I can still catch up and beat you!"

"Nuh-uh!"

"Yeah-huh!"

After the decisive blow left Miss Bonbon unconscious, Ruby leaned back, controller in her lap as her hands braced her up. "Yup. I still got it."

"Wanna go another round?" Booster asked.

"Sure," Ruby told him. "Oh – strawberry?"

Booster's eyes widened. "Were you dipping those in – "

"Chili sauce. Problem with that?"

"No! I LOVE chili strawberries!"

Ruby needed a moment for that to sink in. "You…eat these regularly?"

"Who doesn't?"

"LITERALLY NOBODY I KNOW!" Ruby shrieked with glee. "My dad and my sister think it's so weird that I like doing this, but – "

"But the spicy sauce really helps offset the sweetness of the strawberry!"
"YES! OHMYGOSH SOMEBODY ACTUALLY GETS IT!"

They took two strawberries each, scooping up a fair amount of chili sauce. Once their hands were free, Ruby stated, "Skeleton Dancer's actually the other worst fighter. I'll pick him this time since I swindled you last match."

"Okay." Booster nodded. "How about…Goddess of Spring?"

"She's decent."

Goddess of Spring was soon tossing flowers at Skeleton Dancer that caused his limbs to temporarily break off before he reattached them. "So, uh…you like weird food that no one else likes?" Booster asked rather shyly.

"Yup!" Ruby confirmed. "Sometimes, I like to freak my sister out by dipping a pickle into orange juice and just…eating it."

"But don't pickles and orange juice go together?"
"THAT'S WHAT I ALWAYS SAY!"

"Have you ever dipped fries in a shake?" Booster asked.

"That's the oldest one in the book!" Ruby replied. "…And also, no, I haven't. I keep forgetting to get on that."

"It's a classic for a reason."

"That's it. I'm putting it on my bucket list. So…you ever made tuna marinara sauce for spaghetti?"

"I don't think we have tuna in my galaxy. But I have put shredded slerf in marinara."

"What's a slerf?"

"Really hard to catch," Booster explained, "but really tasty fried up."

"I want one of those now."

"Oh! Oh! What about dipping pizza in Rocket Soda?"

"You mean a 'Kazuichi Special,'" Ruby corrected, "and yes, I have. Wait. This is gonna make or break. Is pineapple a pizza topping?"

"Why wouldn't it be?"

"YES! YESYESYES!" Ruby shrieked. "IN YOUR FACE, YANG! IN YOUR – aaaand I just lost."

Skeleton Dancer applauded halfheartedly for Goddess of Spring on the victory screen; his hands fell off in the process.

"Wanna randomize?" Ruby suggested after several more strawberries had been consumed. "That way, neither of us gets a one-up beforehand."

"Sure!" Booster agreed.

Ruby ended up with Princess Violin while Booster played as Prince Saxophone. "Awww, I hate making these two fight!" Ruby groaned. "I'm pretty sure they're supposed to be star-crossed lovers or something."

"Why do you think that?"

"Because – because I just know, okay?"
"It does kinda make sense," Booster agreed without elaborating – really, if you didn't see why it made sense, which he now did, there was no point in explaining it.

As the fight began, both players tried to talk at the same time:

"So what's life like being a – "

"What do you do around here at – "

Then they stopped, giggling in unison. "You first," Ruby urged.

"I was just gonna ask what you do around here at the castle," Booster revealed. "I mean, I already know you're a great tour guide, but I don't know anything else about you."

"Whoa, boy," Ruby sighed. "That is a long story. Let's try to make it short…ummmmm…so I was training to become a Huntress on my homeworld when it got attacked by the bad guys and then it got attacked by bad guys AGAIN so I had to backtrack from this whole hike I was planning with my friends and then I met Sora and he brought me here and now I'm here. And that's just the beginning of it."

"Gosh, that sounds like a lot," Booster told her. "Is everything okay back home?"

Ruby let out a deflating sigh as she attempted to keep in control of Princess Violin. "No."

"Oh. …I'm sorry."

"It's fine. I've been dealing with this for a while. Everything's kinda horrible everywhere, so I just try and keep my head up."

"That sounds like a lot of work. Do you let yourself be sad?"

"I'm not sure I can afford to," Ruby sighed.

"Everyone can afford to feel their feelings," Booster told her. "…Except when it's jealousy that makes you bother somebody into turning into a huge plasma storm, but that's kind of a special case. I just don't want you to bottle things up inside. If you have something you wanna talk about, I'll listen!"

"…Thanks," Ruby said softly. "Talking about it might just bring up old memories again. I'd rather have fun and keep playing this game."

"Then let's keep playing! But, uh…one question. What kind of 'huntress' were you training to be?"

"Oh," Ruby replied. "Back home, we have these creatures of Darkness called Grimm, and they're like the Heartless except they're not the Heartless, and a Huntress specializes in protecting people from the Grimm so REALLY bad things don't happen. Not to brag, but…I was the youngest student admitted to my academy for my skills, and Grimm are pret-ty big monsters…"

"THAT'S SO COOL!" Booster cried. "Gosh, everyone here is just such an awesome hero! Someday, if you're okay talking about it, I'd love to hear about stories from your Huntress training!"

"I might be able to arrange that," Ruby replied with a smile.

"It kinda makes me feel silly for just being a little old space ranger while everyone else here is Huntresses or Keybearers or genius scientists or able to do magic," Booster admitted.

"WHAT?" Ruby shrieked. "But that's what I was trying to ask YOU! I wanted to hear more about what you do as a space ranger! Because you're a ranger! IN SPACE!"

"Well, I, uh…" Booster flushed, feeling a little flattered at Ruby's enthusiasm. "I've helped Team Lightyear take down a lot of villains. But Buzz is the real star of the team. Oh, except Mira is really, really tough and smart, and XR is able to do all sorts of cool things that 'organics' can't do, and he also makes people smile, and I'm just lucky to be able to work with them."

"So they're like your team," Ruby realized. "Wait, no, you literally said they are your team. It's just…having a team of friends is great. I'm happy for you."

Booster could sense there was something there Ruby wasn't talking about, but he already knew she didn't want to discuss it at present.

"So what kind of villains did you fight?" Ruby asked quickly. "Obviously that Warp guy. Did you have any other cool adventures?"

"Oh, lots! I don't even know where to start – YESSSSS!"

Princess Violin had been KO'd.

"I dunno, pick a favorite," Ruby encouraged. "I mean, we've got time. Kairi put a reservation on this room at seven, and then Riku's taking it over at nine, but until then, we still have like fifty characters we haven't played yet, and plenty of straw…berries…"

Her hand was scraping an empty bowl; Booster had eaten the last one.

"Oh," he said sheepishly as he swallowed. "Sorry about that. I, uh – "

"I'll go get more!" Ruby cried as she leapt to her feet. "We could probably use a refresher on chili sauce, too. Be right back! Don't start without me!"

As she sped toward the kitchen at top speed, she had an extra spring in her step. Such was making a good new friend, she thought; it made your heart lighter.

...

The initial reason Roman Torchwick and Mad Madam Mim had made their way to the cellar was to investigate the sound of explosions that sounded sonorously. Not to actually stop the explosions: to find out what was making them so they could watch from a semi-safe distance.

What they found in the largest, most open cellar was Duff Killigan teeing up a golf ball.

"Aaaand I'm confused," Roman sighed.

"Don't excuse us," Mim told Duff; "we're not sorry for barging in. We're trying to find the source of all the explosions."

"Aye, ya found 'em, lassie," Duff replied slyly. "I'm at the tippy-top of my game today!"

"You're…the one making the explosions," Roman repeated. "…How?"

"With a round of good old-fashioned golf!" Duff proclaimed.

"Oh, riiiiiight," Roman replied. "The stuffy old politician game. Reaaaaal exciting."

"I'S NO' A GAME FOR STUFFY OLD POLITICIANS!" Duff yelled in a sudden rage. "GOLF IS A GAME OF PRECISION SKILL AND EMOTIONAL WHIPLASH! I'S NO' FOR THE FAINT OF HEART!"

Roman held up a finger, indicating Duff should wait a moment. Then he broke out into peals of laughter, stomping his foot for emphasis. He finished it by clearing his throat and lowering the finger. "That was a good one. No, really. Anyway, Mimsy and I have explosions to find."

"Have ye ever PLAYED a game o' golf, laddie?" Duff posed.

"Noooooo," Roman told him, "because I like having fun."

"And ye?" Duff raised his brow at Mim.

"Humph!" Mim folded her arms, turning up her nose. "Golf is too PEACEFUL and QUIET! I hate peaceful, quiet games!"

"Ah, then ye've never played REAL golf," Duff identified. "Ye've only played the plebeian sport. I only play the extreme, villainous version of golf!"

With a great sigh, Roman relented, "Ooooookay, I'll bite. What is the 'extreme, villainous version' of fucking golf?"

"Watch an' learn, laddie." Duff returned his attention to the tee. "See, the key's all in the stroke. Ye gotta square up proper for it. Ye can't be a little wimp with noodle arms if ye wanna score a hole in one."

Watching Duff correct his form, Roman rolled his eyes at Mim. "Wow. This is so extreme and villainous!"

"I don't know what game you're watching," Mim huffed, "but this is just dead boring."

"Sarcasm, Mimsy. It was sarcasm."

"An' then – " Duff smacked the ball with the club's flat. "Ye LET IT FLY!"

The golf ball careened through the air in the vaulted cellar, traveling toward the small flag that marked the coffee mug that served as a hole. Looking closely, one might see a tiny blinking red light emanating from the ball before it landed in the mug.

"Wowwwww!" Roman applauded as his voice dripped all the more thickly with sarcasm. "I just barely managed to not fall asleep at the last minute! That means you're REALLY good!"

"I don't see how this is villainous," Mim growled.

"Ohhh?" Duff played innocent. "Did I no' explain that every ball I use is a custom explosive that activates upon collision with the club, an' can double as a grenade in any situation?"

The coffee mug exploded, embedding glass shards in the vicinity.

"WHOA!" Roman cried, now actually interested. "Okay, that was kinda metal."

"NOW you have my attention!" Mim agreed. "So you say we can hit these golf balls ANYWHERE and they'll explode?"

"Well, ye'll get a bad score if ye don't at least aim for the hole," Duff informed her. "Reminds me: I've got ta set up the next one. Y'think Mozenrath'll mind I took his stash o' coffee cups for this? 'Cause I don' care if he minds or not. I just wanna know how angry he's gonna get. Might be fun to watch for a lark."

"Oh, he'll be FURIOUS," Mim assured Duff. "You should blow them ALL up! Hmm…and here I was going to sabotage my own score because I hate being a good sport anyway and I just want to destroy this cellar. But now I have the chance to ruin Mozenrath's good china. Decisions, decisions…"

"I can't believe I'm actually asking this," Roman sighed, "but how do you play the stupid stuffy politician game, pyro edition?"

"Glad ye asked." Duff grinned. "Welcome to Golf 101. Class is in session."

He spent the next few minutes giving beginner's tips to Mim and Roman. Roman picked up the intricacies of stance and swing quickly; Mim demonstrated that she simply didn't care by ignoring all advice. Soon, the three were swinging away at the homemade course.

"You know what would make this actually great, though?" Roman asked as his latest shot blew up another mug. "Doing this somewhere bigger, with MORE shit to blow up. Just sayin'."

"Not that we have many options in this ship," Mim growled. "The sooner we can get an empire outdoors, with so much more space to ruin things, the better!"

With a loud "pop" and a spray of confetti, Discord appeared before the trio of golfers. "Did someone say they wanted a golf course?" he asked with wide, excited eyes.

"I mean, not in those words exactly," Roman told him, "but more or less, that was the sentiment."

"I think that can be arranged," Discord said as he held up his claw and snapped.

Instantly, the cellar was transformed. It had been widened, lengthened, and given an artificial sky using the magic of pocket dimensions. The stone floor was now bright green grass that cascaded over hills and down into valleys. Said grass also bore a wide variety of obstacles done up in pastel-painted wood – small windmills, grandfather clocks, wishing wells, a veritable miniature town in eye-assaulting pinks, blues, and greens.

"This is a man's game, ye daft dragon!" Duff complained. "No' a MINI-golf course!"

"Well, ex-CUSE me," Discord defended, "but I believe your cohorts had wanted something to BLOW UP with your little golf grenades. If you hate the mini-golf obstacles so much, I encourage you to hit birdies aiming for them."

"He's right!" Mim cried. "It looks exactly like the most exasperating type of peasant village that I'd just LOVE to burn down!"

"Good call, Patchwork!" Roman said as he clapped Discord on the back. "Now this is gonna be a fuckin' GAME!"

As Duff, Mim, and Roman set to work making the idyllic mini-village explode, Discord discreetly gathered up the survivors of Mozenrath's coffee cups and spirited them away to the upstairs cupboard. "No one can ever say I didn't do anything for our fearless leader," he muttered.

...

As nine rolled around, Riku embarked on a risky quest. After all, with Keyblade training in the morning, one couldn't stay up too late. However, he and his sisters had come to the conclusion that they had definitely not spent enough time together as a trinity. Therefore, they had settled on a short horror-flick marathon at Mal's request.

As Riku approached the television lounge, he found the other two already waiting outside its doors, comparing the palms of their hands. "What are you doing?" he asked, perplexed yet already amused.

"Oh," Mal told him, "we were just comparing. Look." She held her hands out to him to show him the green and purple paint stains. "This still hasn't washed off from the painting session."

"Mine is less impressive, yet…" Lianna put her hands out, palms up, to reveal the gray skin tinted pink. "I assisted Kazuichi in returning the pink to his hair. As it turns out, hairstyling is not at all what I wish to pursue, and is perhaps even worse than mechanics."

Riku shook his head, grinning. "Sorry. I don't have any colors on my hands."

"Yeah," Mal said as she lightly shoved his shoulder, "you just have a tan from playing hooky and spending all that time in the sun instead of helping out around here."

"Mal!" Lianna barked. "Riku was in need of a break from the norm in order to preserve his mental state! I would not – "

But Riku was laughing. "Okay, okay, I get it! I won't run away from home with my boyfriend again. Anytime soon, anyway. So, are we ready to get set up?"

"I believe Kairi and Ventus are finishing their last round," Lianna explained.

"Last round?" Riku repeated. "Last round of what?" It was then that he became aware of the thumping beat of intense music pushing through the walls.

"Watch this," Mal told him. "And prepare to have your mind blown."

She eased the door open, allowing more of the music to slip out. Beyond, Kairi and Ventus were quickly moving their feet atop Step in Time Syncopation pads that had been installed on the television, pounding out the rhythm of the peppy anthem to match onscreen arrows.

"Wha – WHOA!" Ven cried before laughing. "No way! I've been doing rhythm games way longer than you! I'm not gonna let you beat me!"

"Maybe you won't LET me," Kairi countered, "but I'm gonna do it anyway!"

Stomp-stomp-stomp, their socked feet, until the big finish. Kairi threw up her hands dramatically; Ven slumped into an exaggerated droop once he saw that she'd edged him out by a mere five points.

"That means you win the tiebreaker!" he groaned.

"And right on time, too," Kairi realized, looking over to Riku, Mal, and Lianna. "Nine already?"

"Yep," Riku replied. "Kickin' you out."

"Well, we had our fun." Kairi shrugged as she gathered up her boots. "It's kind of nice being able to play this in the castle now. I wish I could go back out to the arcade just to see the people…but it might not be the best idea for me to turn up there without a mustache."

Riku did a double take. "Without a WHAT?"

"It's way funnier if no one explains it," Mal stated, so no one did.

Ven slid on both of his boots. "You're on for a rematch, right?" he asked Kairi. "I gotta save face!"

"Name the day and the time!" Kairi replied.

And then both of them had jogged out, breaking into an impromptu duet of the song they'd used for competition purposes.

"TV's ours!" Mal proclaimed as she slumped onto the right side of the couch. Lianna settled herself delicately on the left. Riku made his way to the center that had been reserved for him.

A creak of the door. "Oh."

Riku turned to see Sonia looking at him, wan and wide-eyed.

"I did not mean to interrupt," she said as she turned to exit.

Riku could tell something was very, very wrong. He gave his sisters a sympathetic glance. "Sorry."

"Go!" Mal waved him on. "We know you gotta play hero."

"Start without me," Riku said as he jogged out of the room. "I'll catch up!"

Sonia was already a fair way down the hall. "SONIA!" Riku called after her, getting her attention; she halted, looking back at him.

"I had forgotten you were spending tonight with your sisters," Sonia said with a somber smile. "I do not wish to bring you away from such an important engagement."

"Hey, it's fine," Riku told her. "You're an important engagement, too. Something's wrong. What is it?"

"It is…difficult to explain."

"When you take on Xehanort, you get used to difficult explanations." Riku smiled teasingly. "But we might wanna sit down."

He slid down the wall, folding his legs on the floor; Sonia took a similar position beside him. "So what's going on?" Riku asked.

"Do you remember what we discussed in Equestria?" Sonia recalled. "About the nature of violent fiction and imaginary evil, and how it did not effect who you were in real life?"

"Yeah."

"Were you told of the television program that was sent to us to inform…us of Kaito's demise?"

"I heard about it," Riku replied. "Mostly from Lianna. It sounded…intense. Were you there?"

"No, I was not. But I requested to be informed after the fact. I was well aware from Jasmine's expression as she communicated with Aladdin, who was watching the footage, that it was not all right." She paused a long while. "And then…after events had settled…I found and watched it for myself."

Riku gasped. "Why would you – "

"There was something I wanted to know," Sonia stated. "Were you told how it all ended?"

"Xaldin's three hostages got out of the school alive."

"Yes, but it is more complicated than that." Here, her voice broke. "The spy in the midst…Tsumugi…she had attempted to justify her actions by stating that she had only created fictional characters, and therefore, no act of violence she committed was real. Further, the Kaito that lived in my world was merely a character to her. One that did not manage to exist until she gave him life on her own. Shuichi convinced the viewing audience that such was irrevocably morally wrong. That because fiction affected reality, we could not afford to stand for the gruesome deaths of these 'characters.' That they required freedom, as anyone else would."

"But they weren't fictional," Riku argued. "The spy made them real by giving them bodies."

"I would be inclined to agree," Sonia said with a quiver in her tone, "but for the fact that there was a Kaito Momota in my world, and not in hers – in any real capacity. I saw her cycle through several cosplays of classmates I knew from Hope's Peak at the end. I…I saw her dress as…as me. I was only…a fictional character to her." She gave a gasp, and Riku now knew she was crying. "It was all right when the villains were not real. But what if it is all real? What if this whole time, every fairy-tale villain we have championed has existed somewhere? What if the acts of violence we use to cope with our lives are, in fact, being committed? What if I am not so good of a person after all?"

"That's…tricky," Riku admitted. "But I think it's more complicated than that." Here was the part where Sora would probably hug her. Unfortunately, Riku thought, he wasn't Sora. He simply couldn't bring himself to engage the touch. "I mean, you also liked true crime, right? Sparkling Justice? Genocide Jack? They were real. And the same thing applied back then."

"I…I suppose that is true…in which case I have made even more excuses!"

Riku shook his head. "Look, I can't say whether everything that's been made into fiction is real somewhere out there or not. That's a big question about the way the worlds work, and I don't think we can ever really know the answer for sure. But I don't think you have to change everything just because it might be. Bad things are always going to happen, even in real life. We can take strength from them. We don't have to want them to happen to our friends and family, but we can be inspired by what happened during those times – "

"That is EXACTLY the game Tsumugi wanted to play!" Sonia sobbed. "Her production was meant to give people hope by putting her students through despair!"

"Well, you can't un-write it," Riku told her. "And I think this Tsumugi might've proven the wrong thing by accident. If fiction does affect reality, and you and maybe me are just characters, that means we can go on to inspire someone reading about us. After everything that's happened, you can't think we're just minor characters. But the way Tsumugi set it up…do you really think her killing game was structured to inspire hope? It was scripted. The heroes weren't meant to take control of their own destinies the way you did. Do you know what really inspired hope? When the survivors threw off Tsumugi's chains. She was just writing more and more despair without even paying attention to what made your story so full of hope. She didn't understand how stories…work that way. Some stories are better off being tragedies, but when you're trying to create hope on purpose…well, I'm not even sure that was really what she was doing. To tell you the truth, it sounds like she was another villain looking for fame, fortune, and shock value. If the survivors were fictional, then fiction did affect reality: for good. They were able to stop the killing games from feeding a repetitive formula out, and they, as characters, showed what we really are able to do in real life: go against our script."

"I suppose," Sonia muttered. "But…when we write stories where horrible things happen…where people are murdered and disemboweled…and when we enjoy those stories…knowing in good conscience that they may be real…"

"Then there'd be no point in creating. And you can't just stop telling stories."

"You could tell only the true ones. Or…you could tell only nice stories, where good things happen."

Riku shook his head again. "That wouldn't be good for the people in those stories, either." He stretched out his hands, flexing his fingers. "Trust me. I've walked the path of the Darkness enough to know that you can't just exist on Light alone. You need Darkness for that Light to mean anything. Without bad, you don't know what good is. I've heard people say that evil isn't self-sustaining like good is, but I just can't see how that's true. I'm stronger because I suffered. I wish you hadn't gone through the Tragedy, but you're strong now, too. And you care so much about being better because of everything that happened. So don't feel bad. I don't want you to. Because even if it is real…there are reasons to enjoy the Dark."

Sonia gasped through her tears. "Riku…I do not feel stronger. Before all of this, I was incredibly strong. I was taken hostage, once, upon threat to my life. I kept my mouth firm – "

"I think the saying is 'stiff upper lip.'"

" – and held my head high through it all because I knew the Novoselic Kingdom could not see its princess waver," Sonia went on. "I only ever let myself feel that fear once, in the Neo World, when Hajime broke down my walls. How can you say I am stronger when now, I am held back by fears and grief and even despair?"

Riku realized he knew this answer from experience, too. "Because feeling things and coming to terms with what's in your heart takes a lot more strength than ignoring them. You're just gonna have to trust me on that one."

"I…have no reason not to," Sonia said softly. "Riku…thank you. I am sorry to have wasted your time."

"You didn't. Feeling any better?"

"A little. I think once I have given it the proper time to digest your words, I can be at peace."

"Glad I could help." Riku turned to look at Sonia, truly thinking it would be a disservice not to offer a little more. Slowly, stiffly, he reached out to take her into a close embrace.

She finished the job for him, gripping him so tightly that he was short of breath. Though her heart was on the path to ease, she still had tears to cry, and she shed them on Riku's shoulder. Then, at last, she ran out, and she informed him, "It is better now. I will be fine."

"You come tell me if you're not, okay?"

"I shall."

"…Do you wanna come join us? Mal and Lianna would be okay with it if you wanted to sit in."

"No," Sonia replied. "You need this time to be with your family, and I shall not hear otherwise. We will see each other again." She rose, relinquishing Riku. "Do enjoy your night of entertainment."

"Take care of yourself, okay?" Riku called to her as he turned to bolt back to the television lounge.

Sonia smiled after him. "I shall."

Riku flopped back into the center of the couch as Mal asked, "Everything okay?"

"No," Riku told her, "but it's the best it can be, and it'll get better."

"That is sometimes all we can accept," Lianna said with a nod.

"So." Riku turned his eyes to the screen, where an intrepid yet foolish teenager was wandering alone through a haunted house. "What'd I miss?"

...

It was a stealth mission. Mozenrath led the Huntsman through the locker room, careful not to make a single noise – save for the open locker doors he crashed into every now and again. The Huntsman had no such issues.

Near the goal, Mozenrath held up his hand, gauntlet-palm out. "Wait here. Actually, get changed here. I'll make sure the coast is clear."

"I'm not certain all this subterfuge is necessary," the Huntsman sighed.

"And how would you rather play this? Can we afford to be noticed?"

We can, the Huntsman thought, but you would never allow it. And yet his fondness for Mozenrath was such that he could accept this. "You are right. Survey the destination for onlookers. I will adjust my attire. I trust there will be no untoward voyeurism."

Mozenrath stared at him for a moment before admitting, "Not sure if that was an invitation or legitimately a request for privacy."

"Either, I suppose. I know well you aren't the sort for spontaneity, but the door is open."

"Obliged. I'll rain-check it. For now, we have business to take care of."

The sorcerer strode ahead, furtive in his movements. If he was lucky, the pool would be empty: open game for himself and the Huntsman to use without worrying about peeping Toms (or, more accurately, peeping Mims). No one need ever know why he wanted it reserved.

Of course, he wasn't lucky. He never was.

In the deep end, Wuya and Roman were engaged in a vicious splash-fight, each dressed for watery immersion while Archibald Snatcher stood fully clothed on the tile and watched them like a vulture surveying carrion that it for some reason suspected might make it ill. Down at the shallow end, Mim was pouring a bright red powder into the water.

"WHAT are you all doing here?" Mozenrath cried, hoping that if he made it sound like the others were breaking some sort of rule, they might buy it.

Roman and Wuya halted their battle. "Um…this is a public pool?" Roman reminded Mozenrath. "Soooo…none of your fucking business?"

"No use trying to reason with the fun police when he's on patrol," Wuya sighed.

Mozenrath looked to Snatcher. "At least you're not involved with…whatever this is."

After a slightly nervous chuckle, Snatcher replied, "Quite right. Trying to convince them to knock off this…tomfoolery, as it were. No place in our organization for horseplay – "

"Oh, come onnnnn!" Roman groaned. "For the LAST time, nobody's gonna fucking CARE how you look in a bathing suit! Okay, no, that's a lie; I WANT to see you in one. But no one's gonna throw insults!"

"I am," Wuya stated glibly.

"No one's gonna throw insults without getting decked in the face!" Roman amended.

"Really, it's more for the sake of insulting a person than anything personal," Wuya assured. "I can't leave an opening when it's set up."

"Just get in here already so you can help me get the edge on the water witch!" Roman pleaded.

"Yes, please do join us," Wuya added. "The more of you I humiliate single-handedly, the bigger the ego boost."

"I don't know what they're talking about," Snatcher said in the hasty tone of someone who knew absolutely what they were talking about.

Mozenrath waved the entire discussion aside; "Do I even WANT to know what Mim's doing?"

"Well, er…" Snatcher shot a glance to Mim, then back to Mozenrath. "Madam Mim is undertaking an experiment. She wishes to fill the entire pool with gelatin and solidify it into an immense strawberry mold."

"I regret asking," Mozenrath groaned. He turned to shout down to Mim; "You know that's going to take five and a half million cups to actually turn the whole pool to gelatin!"

Mim simply tapped the large canvas bag next to her – the one labeled "5.5 MILLION CUPS" in great block text.

"I don't know what I expected out of that," Mozenrath sighed. "Really."

"You know, I ORIGINALLY wanted to use pudding," Mim called over, "but if I'm going to do one good deed today, and that's about all I can muster, it's actually not sending Snatcher into anaphylactic shock once enough of the mix kicks in!"

"You realize there's no actual dairy in the pudding mix itself, right?" Wuya pointed out. "Just the tradition of adding milk TO it. You can still make instant pudding in water, but it'll be gross. Which is probably exactly what you want."

Mim looked to Wuya as though the Heylin witch had just revealed the secrets of life and the universe to her. Then, in a flash, both she and the canvas bag disappeared.

The others simply watched where she'd been, knowing where this was going.

Mim reappeared almost instantly with a second bag, almost identical but for the powder coming from it being tinted an off-gold color. "And it's butterscotch, to boot," Mim cackled. "The worst flavor!"

"Okay, I RESENT that," Roman called over. "Butterscotch is just misunderstood! You know what the WORST pudding is? Whatever that figgy pudding shit is. The name alone."

"I wouldn't know," Mim replied, "but I wouldn't think it would be so bad, given that awful Christmas song devoted to grubbing for it more and more with each verse."

"But it's like fruitcake!" Roman argued. "Winter holiday food sucks! They make up those songs to trick you into eating shit!"

"Oh, and we're just not going to ask the person here who's actually eaten figgy pudding regularly?" Snatcher broke in.

"…No offense," Roman said as he tread water, "but how…?"

"When one has a mother who's canny about allergens," Snatcher explained, "said mother finds workarounds for traditional holiday dishes without letting on what she's done. And she never was one to buck tradition." He folded his arms. "Now. How deep does your curiosity run?"

"You can't just bring that up and NOT settle the figgy pudding debate," Roman urged.

"It isn't at all like that flavored mucus you consider pudding," Snatcher began.

"Say that again and you're finding another apartment to sleep in tonight," Roman teased.

"It's more of a…pastry," Snatcher mused, a smile playing on his lips as he recalled the nostalgia of Christmases past. When he still found Christmas worth caring about, anyway, which was a sentiment long dead. "Sort of cakelike. Baked with dried fruits that give it a…texture."

"So it's like a fruitcake," Roman sighed.

"Which I can only assume you speak about from bias," Snatcher retorted, "as it isn't HORRIBLE, you know."

"I don't have to actually put a fruitcake in my mouth to know it's GARBAGE."

"What was that about one of us needing a new place to stay for the night? You'll let me continue. As I said…texture. And a bit of a…spice to it. Gives it a certain…mm…flavor."

"So it has a texture and a flavor," Mozenrath sighed. "You just described every food that's ever existed. Yzma was right; you have no sense of taste."

"Well, I mean, this was all just a big diversion anyway," Roman pointed out. "Not one we planned for, but it definitely worked."

"What do you mean, 'diversion'?" Snatcher asked, suddenly suspicious. "Wait. You've backed up a good deal. And where's – "

With a battle cry, Wuya ambushed him from behind, tackling him into the water with an immense splash kicked up. Mozenrath quickly redirected the disturbed water so that none of it hit him.

Soaked and incredibly angry, Snatcher surfaced from beneath the pool to hear Wuya's cackling as she floated alongside him. "AND WHAT WERE YOU THINKING?"

"That you need to loosen up and have some fun," Wuya chuckled, batting his now waterborne hat across the pool toward the butterscotch onslaught. "And if you're not going to dress for the occasion, well, just come as you are."

"THIS COAT WASN'T DESIGNED TO BE SUBMERGED!"

"Oh, it wasn't? My bad." Wuya giggled.

Without another word, Snatcher gripped the back of her head and dunked her completely underwater. She slipped away from him, bursting up atop the surface in a geyser that framed her, readying to crash like a tidal wave.

"TEAM REDHATBLACKHAT!" Roman struck a defensive pose. "EMERGENCY MANEUVER!"

"There are times I do so loathe my attachment to you," Snatcher groaned as he took his place beside Roman, mirroring the stance.

"Stop, stop, STOP!" Mozenrath bellowed, throwing out his arms. With his magic catalyzing, the geyser collapsed, plunging Wuya to the depths. She resurfaced quite irked, spitting a stream of water at Mozenrath; he batted it aside. "NO ONE IS HAVING A SPLASH WAR! NO ONE IS FILLING THE POOL WITH GELATIN OR PUDDING!"

"Oh, really?" Mim barked. "Give us one good reason!"

"Yeah!" Roman added. "And it better be more legit than 'Hurr durr, I'm Righty and I hate fun!'."

"I don't talk like that," Mozenrath said flatly.

"You know," Snatcher mused as he finally retrieved his soaked and useless hat, "if I didn't know better, I'd almost think Lord Mozenrath was…hiding something."

"I wonder what it could be," Wuya said with a wicked grin. "Shall we pester him until we find out?"

"I'M NOT HIDING ANYTHING!" Mozenrath yelled, realizing he would have to lower himself to improvising. "I…NEED YOU TO CONDUCT A RECONAISSANCE MISSION SCOUTING A PROSPECTIVE EMPIRE LOCALE!"

"And why is this so urgent?" Wuya asked.

"Because the territory in question is in a constant state of flux, politically and magically, and I want an accurate reading!" Mozenrath blurted before realizing he now had to come up with a place to send them that matched that description.

"What," Mim suggested, "are you sending us to Wonderland?"

"…Yes," Mozenrath replied, not wanting to waste an opportunity, miffed as he was that he hadn't come up with it himself. "Yes, that's it exactly! I need you four to scout out Wonderland and tell me if the time is ripe for extending a root there! After all, it is an unbridled fount of chaotic magic, and if nothing else, Discord should have fun warping it around."

"This sounds a lot like you're making up an excuse for us to leave," Wuya accused.

"Well, I'm not," Mozenrath argued. "There are kingdoms of cards and chessmen I want added to my territory and legions I want in my artillery. If I were you, I'd leave now."

"Or WHAT?" Roman countered.

"Or…" Mozenrath thought it over. Usually, he would pose a threat here, but that wouldn't work on this crowd, and honestly, at this point, he felt a little dirty doing it. "Given the warring state of the kingdoms, there's a lot of wealth that might go under lock and key within the next few hours. You want anything out of the coffers of the Queen of Hearts? Better hurry while supplies last!"

The quartet thought it over. Then Roman said "Okay, yeah, I want that" followed by Snatcher adding "That sounds legitimate" and then Wuya chiming in with "That checks" and finally Mim declaring that "I don't care, but sowing destruction THERE sounds more fun than making pudding HERE."

Mozenrath flicked his hand toward them to shoo them away; "Now run along like good emperors-to-be!"

"I still think he's hiding something," Wuya hissed as she, Roman, and Snatcher hauled themselves out of the pool.

"We'll suss it out later," Snatcher assured. "First, I've got to acquire some dry attire. Torchwick, won't you accompany me to make a…proper selection?"

"You only have like three outfits," Roman reminded him. "Eyeliner here can just magic up – "

"Really, Torchwick, I'd've thought you'd pick up on an innuendo when you heard one."

"…Oh. Oh, yeah, uh, we're gonna need some time to…coordinate."

Mim scurried up to Wuya and seized her arm; "While they do that, let's run ahead and get hopelessly lost so they can't find their way!"

"Why do WE need to be lost for THEM to suffer?" Wuya asked.

Mim shrugged. "It's a bonus."

Then, the four of them were gone, and Mozenrath let out a relieved sigh. "Finally." He swept his hand toward the pool, sealing the chamber from being entered at any point but the locker room. He then leaned back through the door; "Coast is clear…took long enough."

The Huntsman exited the locker room, clad in a pair of plain black swim shorts. "Then we can begin," he stated. "You'll want to be better-dressed."

"Got it covered," Mozenrath said before realizing that there were things he probably should have covered for safety's sake. What he ended up creating in place of his robes was a tight-fitting wetsuit that cut away over his left arm, leaving it and the left side of his chest bare while the right side was bound away in stretchy blue fabric, as well as the rest of his body.

The Huntsman gave Mozenrath a suspect look. "I had thought I was well aware of how much you'd whittled down since the Spirit Waters, and yet that seems to protect a greater area than it needs to. How much are you sacrificing daily?"

"Don't worry about it," Mozenrath dismissed.

"You realize if you perish before we even achieve our goal, it's all for naught."

"I know my limits," Mozenrath growled.

And that was the end of it, the Huntsman knew; there was no budging him. And yet the Huntsman would worry. He wasn't as stoic as he used to be in that regard, but only when it came to one person. He knew he would have to trust Mozenrath. He didn't want to. He wanted to protect Mozenrath, up to and including from himself. But Mozenrath wouldn't have that, and the Huntsman found himself caught between wanting his lover's respect or safety.

Respect won out that day.

The Huntsman lowered himself into the pool; then, with extreme trepidation, Mozenrath followed, making sure to cling to the ladder on the side tightly once he'd hit the water.

Gill had been right. Mozenrath had never learned how to swim. Which he was going to correct that day.

"To begin," the Huntsman stated, treading nearby, "you cannot become adept until you are familiar with the sensation of the water."

"I know how water feels, George."

"And have you been submerged in this much of it for this long?"

"You're not going to shove me underwater, are you?" Mozenrath growled.

"You mistake me for one of our more mischievous cohorts," the Huntsman stated. "You can trust me."

After a stoic silence that almost burned, Mozenrath nodded. "I know."

"How does it feel at this particular moment?"

"Like I can be doing more than this."

"Then perhaps we will begin with a float. Lie back as though the water is a bed."

Mozenrath cringed. Logically, he knew that the buoyancy would keep him afloat. Science said so. However, he couldn't shake a deep-seated feeling that he was somehow heavier on the inside, with a weighted heart doomed to pull him down into the water no matter what. He faintly recalled nearly drowning in a river outside Agrabah, once. It was water. He should have floated. Yet he'd almost died, sinking and sinking until he could latch a hand onto the bank.

He felt the gentle tap of four fingertips on his back, between his shoulder blades exactly. "I won't remove my hand," the Huntsman assured him.

Now Mozenrath was feeling self-conscious about needing so much guidance. The only way to beat that back was to prove he could quickly graduate beyond needing it. Almost forcefully, he shoved off from the ladder, plunging into the water back-first.

Sinking. Panicking. Struggling.

The Huntsman's arms locked around his, keeping him afloat, the warrior's legs serving to float both of them. "Not like that," the Huntsman cautioned. "This isn't something you can approach with aggression. You'll only master it if you take it slowly. Certainly you're aware of the premise from certain magical studies."

Mozenrath scowled. Now he just felt demeaned. "I'm not an idiot. Now let me do it."

This time, he moved more cautiously, more gently. Miraculously, he was floating on his back, disproving his theory about the leaden heart that would make him sink no matter what.

"From here, there are several strokes you can begin with," the Huntsman listed off. "Perhaps the easiest would be a flutter kick. Move your feet – "

"Stop."

"What, exactly, do you want me to stop?"

"Treating me like a child," Mozenrath snarled, keeping his eyes frustratingly locked on the ceiling, as he knew adjusting to look at the Huntsman would mean he would just sink again. "Taking me through all da widdle baby steps. Show me how to conquer this once and for all, and talk to me like an adult."

"This is how Huntsclan trainees of all ages have learned," the Huntsman emphasized. "Albeit perhaps less intimately. But they have all required guidance through the series of steps. This is no child's lesson. Though perhaps what makes you feel childish is not how I address you, but how you feel you lack this skill to begin with."

Mozenrath very nearly snapped himself into a sinking position at that. "YOU – "

"When the only thing childish about this is how you are reacting to it."

"YOU DARE – "

"I DO DARE, because I need you to understand that you do NOT have to make this shameful! You are far from the oldest I have instructed, and I am well aware you have the persistence to master the techniques quickly! Your lack of knowledge in this area is due to circumstance and little more. I don't doubt you can master the waters, as well as anything else you desire to undertake. I have SEEN you demonstrate more than competence in everything you've touched! Now, are you going to start believing that of yourself, or must we remain here all day at a standstill?"

Mozenrath felt like his armor had been pierced. How dare the Huntsman insinuate he lacked self-confidence in any regard? Even worse, how dare he actually be right?

Still the gentle touch of the fingers at his back. Not letting go. Not giving up. Even on the incorrigible.

"Fine," Mozenrath relented. "I'll play your game. Now tell me about your remedial techniques."

"Not remedial. Beginner. Though if it pleases you, you can label it whatever you wish. Just do as I say, and we'll both leave this room satisfied."

"Deal."

And the fact that Mozenrath hadn't obliterated the Huntsman on the spot really said something to their bond.

Taking each instruction to heart, Mozenrath began to conquer the water, with the Huntsman's touch always lingering somewhere on his body at each lesson. Tangential; not as close as many of the other couples around here would have made an excuse to be. Yet a tangent was still a connection, and it was all that was needed to keep them bound.

...

Abu and Radarr met atop the table in the castle library, the former having dropped from a balcony above and the latter clambering up onto it from the side to check out a book en route to his actual destination.

They exchanged chatters. Radarr asked where Abu was going; Abu replied cockily that Fluttershy had invited him out for a very special picnic in the gardens. He turned the question around; Radarr revealed he was going to the same picnic.

This sparked a small debate over which of them was more beloved by the pegasus pony. Surely, that honor must only go to he who was the strongest, the fastest, the most clever.

Those became fighting words. Abu was obviously the superior of the two, and the one who most deserved Fluttershy's attention; she'd probably only invited Radarr out of pity! No, it was Radarr she truly enjoyed the friendship of, and Abu was the one being pitied!

A challenge: whoever could get to the gardens first would be named the superior. Only then could they decide who Fluttershy loved best.

As the pair took off, a book lowered nearby, revealing an eavesdropper at the table. Stitch had been listening from behind his half-foot-thick treatise on the nature of morality (which he'd planned to follow up with a picture book about a lonely butterfly). He had reasons to be interested in this particular exchange.

Radarr veered to the lower halls, making his way to the outer pools and eventually to the waterways below. From here, he could cut straight through town, making a subterranean beeline to the garden. What could go wrong?

Well, for starters, a gaggle of Shadows, rising up to regard him with their bright yellow eyes. Dark claws swiped through the air, causing Radarr to flinch back in order to avoid being ripped limb from limb.

Would our brave hero turn back, given that these creatures were larger and more numerous than him? Never! Radarr struck a defensive pose, then gave a screech and lunged. Deft kicks and hard punches sent the Heartless flying, the beatdown eventually dissolving them into pure Darkness.

With that taken care of, Radarr dusted his hands off, continuing his sprint down the waterway – right into the midst of a spawn of Darkballs.

He braced up for round two.

Abu had taken the aboveground route, scampering through town. He leapt from roof to roof, then down into the street to dodge foot traffic, then through a window into a room filled with all sorts of gold and jewelry, then back out the window to land –

Wait.

Abu scrambled back into the hidden chamber he'd found, salivating as the light from the gems reflected in his eyes. He began to collect from the vault, scooping as much as he could into his vest pocket.

The door creaked open, and Abu gave an "Uh-oh."

" – And then all five hundred of them rushed me at once," Reno was telling a companion, "which is how I got this sling." His arm was bound up from when Fred had snapped it – and his upper body bore a few bracing aids as well.

"Sure," Cissnei said with a teasing edge of doubt. "If you say so. …Did you get us a pet monkey while I was gone?"

"Pet monkey? What – "

Reno saw Abu giving him an innocent grin, hands still on the pile of treasure, pockets bulging. "Buh-bye," Abu said quickly before dashing out the window.
"DAMMIT!" Reno yelled, reaching for his weapon. "GO GET IT BACK! ACTUALLY, NO, NEVER MIND! I CAN – "

"Not with that arm, you can't!" Cissnei proclaimed as she simply hoisted herself out the very window Abu had used to escape and hit the ground running.

Abu was back to roof-hopping, a golden chain or a crystal slipping from his overstuffed pockets every now and again. His peripheral vision alerted him to the flight of Cissnei's shuriken in the nick of time; he leapt, avoiding its sawing narrowly.

The shuriken whipped back around to its owner, who kept pace with the monkey on the ground as he leapt from roof to roof.

Abu took a hard turn to avoid the next blow, dropping into the square and nearly tripping several shoppers. He could hear the determined boot-steps of Cissnei gaining on him. Perhaps he could have outpaced her by now if his pockets were empty, but he wasn't giving up the loot.

Radarr burst into the square in a panic, three Invisibles following him with swords chopping.

Between the angry Turk and the small Heartless invasion, the townspeople were suddenly thrust into a panic, screaming and rushing every which way. Abu and Radarr barely found each other in the commotion, deciding it was better to stick together than to attempt to go separate ways anymore.

"Great…" Cissnei grumbled as she pulled to a halt before the Invisibles, shuriken raised. "Looks like I have to take care of the Heartless problem. Again."

When Abu and Radarr burst into the garden, they realized they'd been neck and neck. En route to the picnic spot, they chattered angrily over who had won, each insisting he'd hit the grass a millisecond before the other. The argument continued all the way to where Fluttershy had spread a pastel-pink-and-lace blanket over the grass, an assortment of food spread out on it.

"Oh, there you are!" Fluttershy cried. "Stitch and I were getting worried!"

Abu and Radarr looked at the scene, jaws dropping in unison. Stitch, who had been behind them when they'd left the castle, had somehow beaten them to the picnic in the first place.

"Hi," the experiment said as he waved a claw.

Abu and Radarr decided to put their differences aside, both having been bested. They shook paws, then sat down to the picnic to have a chat.

No one noticed the plume of smoke trailing up from where Stitch had crashed the small Gummi ship just outside the garden walls.

...

In what was surprisingly a tangentially related series of events, Drakken glanced furtively down the hall before making a dash, one hand tucked inside his coat to stabilize something that was making a lump in it.

"Almost there…" he muttered. "Just a little bit further…"

As he turned the corner, he nearly ran into an enormous presence, a person who seemed to be guarding the bottom of a stairwell.

"Who dares?" Tubbimura growled.

"I…ah…" Drakken looked around nervously. "I do, apparently?" He then stood up straighter, puffing out his chest. "Actually, I do! I am DR. DRAKKEN, the most mad of mad scientists! …Unless it's 'maddest.' I don't know; I'm a science major, not an English major! The point is, I demand to use this stairway, upon consequences of…CONSEQUENCES!"

"This stairway is in use," Tubbimura insisted. "You will not pass me!"

"Oh, yeah?" Drakken countered. "Wanna bet?"

"Actually, yes. I do."

Drakken simply looked at him for three solid seconds before attempting to dart around the ninja – hand still tucked beneath his coat to cradle the now-squirming lump. Tubbimura was fast as ever, blocking Drakken's pathway in an instant.

"But why do you NEED the stairway?" Drakken whined. "You're not even using it! It's no fair!"

"THIS IS AN IMPORTANT RITUAL!" Tubbimura insisted. "I DON'T NEED TO EXPLAIN MYSELF!"

"I THINK YOU DO!"

"NO, I DON'T!"

"YES, YOU DO!"

"NUH-UH!"

"YEAH-HUH!"

This would have gone on for far too long had Muffin Face not finished bounding down the stairway, playfully leaping back and forth behind Tubbimura's heels and yipping for his owner to pay him some attention. Tubbimura was shocked straight upright, and judging from the look in his eyes, the expression on his masked face was flustered.

"…That would be your dog?" Drakken realized. "And you were doing the game where you hide around the corner at the bottom of the stairwell while the dog runs up and down looking for you?"

"No, I – " Tubbimura stopped short. "How do you know of the game?"

"Well, I…sort of…" Drakken sighed. "See for yourself."

He brought out the wriggling bundle, revealing it to be a small poodle.

"Meet Commodore Puddles," Drakken introduced. "He only likes his friends. To the rest, he is a vicious attack dog."

True to the statement, Commodore Puddles bared his teeth, giving a low growl – up until he became aware of Muffin Face's yipping, at which point he gave up on the rage and emitted a keen of questioning.

"…He is adorable," Tubbimura said softly.

"I think he wants to meet your dog," Drakken stated.

Tubbimura moved aside, beckoning the tinier dog over. "Go on, Muffin Face! Make a new friend!" He then went back to glaring at Drakken; "If your attack dog hurts my Muffin Face, you won't survive the day."

Drakken swallowed hard. "Duly noted."

Still, he set Commodore Puddles down, and the two dogs sniffed at each other curiously. Then Muffin Face took the offensive and tackled Commodore Puddles, resulting in a playful wrestle.

"…Aww," both men said softly.

Within a few minutes, Mozenrath and the Huntsman, fresh from their swimming lesson, came strolling along the upper hallway to the top of the stairs. "Just so we're clear," Mozenrath reminded the Huntsman, "if you tell anyone about why we needed the pool, we're over."

"As I had thought from the start," the Huntsman replied. "However, I should think you've come far enough that any more lessons would be for finesse alone."

"Good." Then, after a loaded pause, "You just might have some of my gratitude."

"Might I?"

"Don't bask in it."

"I know well what to expect from you, Mozenrath."

The sorcerer nearly stumbled when Muffin Face and Commodore Puddles both came racing to the top of the stairs. "UGH!" he yelled, trying not to trip over either dog. "Why do we have so many DOGS all of a sudden? I did not ask for this!"

"One of these, I recognize," the Huntsman observed. "The other is new."

"Well, they're both going to KILL ME if they keep trying to trip me at the top of the stairs!" Mozenrath pointed at the canines. "Is that what you want? To kill this team's only necromancer? ANSWER ME!"

"They're dogs, Mozenrath," the Huntsman sighed. "I'm not even sure they understand the concept of necromancy."

"Then I will take their silence as a sign of assent."

The Huntsman had nothing to say to this. He simply followed Mozenrath down the stairs, where, at the landing –

"BOO!" Drakken and Tubbimura jumped out at their superiors, thinking them to be their dogs.

Mozenrath was startled into screaming "AGH – WHAT – NO – WHY?" as he backed into the Huntsman's very solid chest. The Huntsman, on the other hand, had his "fight" instinct activated, and followed this up by pushing Mozenrath behind him to strike a defensive stance, both fists raised to pummel the offenders.

"WAIT!" Drakken flailed his hands. "WAIT, WAIT, WAIT! DON'T PUNCH US! WE THOUGHT YOU WERE THE DOGS!"

"You thought…" Mozenrath gave a heavy sigh. "Down, George."

The Huntsman relaxed, not even caring that Mozenrath was treating him like his own guard dog. (That was almost a nice sort of thought…his personal guard dog…frighteningly not as demeaning as it should have been.)

"I'm not even going to respond to this," Mozenrath said as he breezed down the hall, head held high. "Just keep it away from us."

The Huntsman followed, shooting one last glare at the dog owners before removing his attention from them.

Now, Muffin Face and Commodore Puddles did come galumphing down the stairs, but with a third party in tow: Spike the sentient carnivorous plant.

"That's not ours," Drakken stated, pointing at Spike.

Bushroot's voice came calling through the upper halls: "Spike? Spiiiiike! Wh-where'd you g-g-go?" He eventually made it all the way down the stairs; "THERE you are, Spike!"

The two dogs had tackled the plant, and Spike would almost look to be in trouble if he weren't laughing so uncontrollably about being licked.

"Aww!" Bushroot clasped his hands beside his head. "You m-m-made new friends already!"

"That is your pet?" Tubbimura asked.

"Spike's b-been with me through thicket and thin!" Bushroot affirmed.

"You know," Drakken realized, "he's…sort of like a dog. Acts like one, anyway."

"He d-d-does!" Bushroot confirmed.

"Now, I'm not saying we should arrange doggie play dates," Drakken went on, "but I'm saying we should arrange doggie play dates."

"I DEMAND we arrange doggie play dates!" Tubbimura insisted.

"I agree!" Bushroot cried.

However, it turned to disaster when Yzma and Megavolt came down the hall to approach the pets and their masters.

" – And you call that an 'AU,' for 'alternate universe,'" Megavolt was explaining. "There were more of those, too. That time the future version of Dipwing made up that origin story WITHOUT me in it, that time I was the villain of Gosalyn's dream about history class for no good reason…"

"Interesting," Yzma mused. "I wonder if I've got any of those."

"I dunno, maybe the high school AU? Everyone has a high school AU somewhere."

"Sounds ridiculous."

"Even if you got to be the principal and could fail Kuzco whenever you wanted so he couldn't take the empire, resulting in a lot of shenanigans where he'd somehow thwart you, but that only makes it more fun because it gives you something to do?"

"…It now sounds less ridiculous."

Muffin Face, Commodore Puddles, and Spike all snapped to attention, freezing to regard Yzma with the utmost fascination.

"…Why are those animals looking at me like that?" Yzma asked, beginning to grow worried.

"I think one of 'em's a plant," Megavolt mused. "Actually, I think I mighta seen that plant somewhere before?"

"Of course you have!" Bushroot insisted. "That's Spike! My pet!"

"Yeah!" Megavolt pointed at Bushroot. "I'm pretty sure I've seen that GUY somewhere before, too!"

Bushroot sighed. "Eh, close enough."

All three pets had begun growling.

"Your presence displeases Muffin Face!" Tubbimura related.

"Me?" Yzma replied, feeling a cold flush run through her, skin quivering. "What did I do?"

Drakken shrugged. "Commodore Puddles only really gets this way whenever he sees a cat. But you're definitely not a cat!"

That was when it dawned on Yzma not only why the dogs made her so uneasy, but why they were so fascinated by her. "…Oh. There's a chance there may still be some…residual effects from my little feline stint."

When Muffin Face, Spike, and Commodore Puddles all took off chasing after Yzma, barking incessantly, Yzma screamed and bolted down the hall at top speed.

"SPIKE, NO!" Bushroot gave chase.

"MUFFIN FACE!" Tubbimura yelled. "COME BACK!"

"COMMODORE PUDDLES!" Drakken bolted after them. "BAD DOG!"

Further up the hall, Mozenrath remarked to the Huntsman, "I just don't like the idea that we have both a surplus of cats AND an armada of dogs. If the dogs decide to gang up on and chase one of the cats, no one around here will get any peace or quiet."

Yzma breezed past him, yelling at the top of her lungs, while Muffin Face, Commodore Puddles, and Spike yipped and yapped along behind her.

Mozenrath and the Huntsman exchanged glances before Mozenrath admitted, "You know, I HONESTLY don't know why I didn't see that coming."

...

As Ruby Rose settled into bed that night, she was more than content, grabbing and squeezing one pillow tight as her head lay on another. It had been a very, very good day.

She'd gotten to spend so much time with Aerrow, for one. Who would have thought she would meet someone so similar to her? Someone who matched her love for weaponry and battle and could talk technicalities? Not to mention who shared certain pain with her, pain of the past, and, during that spar, had gotten her to open up about a lot of difficult topics. The sort she hadn't told Booster about.

Booster…but spending time with him had been wonderful as well. He was so upbeat, so much fun, so positive. He'd been the absolute perfect fighting-game partner, and his enthusiasm for heroics was something Ruby couldn't help but admire, though it came in a completely different flavor from Aerrow's. He also agreed with Ruby on the pineapple discourse, which gave him a lot of points in her book.

What a wonderful day, to have made such good friends! Two boys about whom Ruby could merely think, and her heart would flutter with the excitement of new friendship, her face flushing, her arms tightening to squeeze the soft pillow as she mentally recreated their outlines in her mind and thought about what it must be like to cuddle either of them, both of them –

Oh, wait.

Those weren't the sensations of just wanting friendship.

Ruby's silver eyes snapped wide open. She had two crushes. Two at once. Having one was bad enough. But now she liked two boys, and as her mind whirred, she couldn't tell which one was better. They were so different, yet satisfied her heart in equal ways.

Silly, she thought. Anyone would pick Aerrow. He had a perfect physique, lithe and agile, one that Ruby couldn't stop watching during fights.

Yet…there was no way that skinny redhead could be as good of a hugger as Booster was. Sure, he wasn't the conventional picture of attractiveness, but he was…"shaped like a friend" was the way Ruby's mind immediately put it, and she couldn't put that out of mind either. Adorable. Not to mention the interplay of those deep shades of red. Ruby's favorite color.

Which was also the color of Aerrow's fiery spikes of hair.

"Oh, no," Ruby squeaked as she hurled herself out of bed. "Oh, no, oh, no, oh, NO – "

She bolted out of her room, not even bothering to shut the door. She briefly became a red streak, leaving petals in her wake as she breezed down to one specific door. Re-materializing in humanoid form, she began to hammer on that door with her fist, screaming, "KAZUICHI KAZUICHI KAZUICHI KAZUICHI – "

The door creaked open a sliver for a twitching, darting eye to survey the surroundings before fixating on Ruby. "Is there an actual REASON you just made so much noise AT THIS HOUR?" Stork growled.

"Just send Kazuichi," Ruby growled in return.

"IS THAT RUBY?" Papyrus asked from further back in the chamber. "IS SHE HAVING A MIDNIGHT CRISIS? CAN I HELP?"

"I came here for one person and only one person," Ruby repeated.

The door shut. She could hear Stork saying "She wants you" and a long, low groan in response. Eventually, the door opened again to reveal Kazuichi rubbing at his bleary, contact-less brown eye. "Ruby?" he muttered.

Ruby grabbed him by the shirt-front, turning him around and pinning him against the opposite wall. "You have to help me," she hissed. "You know what you are to me, right? My sister Yang would always mess around with the shopping carts with me when we were kids. But right now, I don't have a Yang. I have you, and you messed with the carts with me. So you have to be my Yang. Get it?"

"Ruby," Kazuichi sighed, "seriously, I have an even harder time sleeping at night after fucking with Sonia, and I JUST got to sleep – "

"TOO BAD! YOU'RE A YANG NOW! DO YOU ACCEPT ALL THE RESPONSIBILITIES THAT COME WITH BEING A YANG?"

"Do I have a choice?"

"No."

"Then yeah, I guess. What do I have to do here?"

Ruby went up on tiptoe to reach his ear, where she whispered, "I have a crush on two different guys, and I don't know which one to pick."

Kazuichi flinched. "Ruby."

"What? You have an answer? You have advice? You don't even know who they are yet!"

"You know what happened to me while you were out, right?"

"Yeah," Ruby said somberly, backing up to trace her foot over the carpet. "I'd been meaning to say I was sorry. I mean, you kinda needed to learn that lesson the hard way, but I was sorry about how it played out in other respects."

"'S cool. But you know that makes me the number one worst person to ask for romance advice around here, right?"

Ruby's pleading eyes turned to him. "But…you're my Yang now. And you're the only one who gets it. Stork's never talked about liking anyone, and Papyrus has never talked about liking anyone, and Jasmine and probably Rapunzel fell in love at first sight, and Sora and Katara both fell for their best friends, and you're the only one left who just…crushed on somebody without it being that serious, except it feels super serious."

"…Fuck. You're right." Kazuichi let out a long sigh. "Okay. So. Step one: don't picture either of them naked."

"Too late."

"…Right, the whole 'don't think about zebras' thing – "

"I mean that happened right before I knocked on your door."

Kazuichi did a double take. "WHAT? But – you're innocent! You can't even say 'fuck'!"

"I have hidden desires," Ruby said seriously. "Dirty hidden desires. I've read every volume of Ninjas in Love."

"Okay, don't ever tell me anything like that again. Ewwww. You really are kinda like my little sister, and I don't wanna think about who my little sister thinks about naked!" Kazuichi shook his head. "Step two: don't fuckin' chicken out for years not asking the guy out."

"WHICH ONE DO I ASK OUT?"

"I'VE NEVER HAD THAT PROBLEM BEFORE, RUBY!"

"BUT YOU LIKED…EVERYONE WITH BOOBS!"

"DON'T SAY THE WORD 'BOOBS'! IT'S WEIRD!"

"I CAN SAY WHAT I WANT! BOOBS! MOIST! GROTTO!"

Kazuichi flinched. "Why do I just…hate all of those words?"

"Everybody hates those words. Except 'boobs.' Which are what you liked everyone with."

"Well, I thought they were ATTRACTIVE," Kazuichi argued, "but I always came back around to the one person I thought I loved! I didn't have a fuckin' love triangle! No, wait, I did! Except I was one of the two people that the main person had to pick between! WAIT A MINUTE, AM I JUST A SIDE CHARACTER? A LOVE-INTEREST OPTION?"

Ruby snapped her fingers in Kazuichi's face; "FOCUS! THIS IS ABOUT ME!"

"Okay, so who are they?" Kazuichi asked.

"Aerrow and Booster."

"I have no idea who those people are."

"The redhead guy I brought back from Atmos and the big guy on the team that saved you from the wind dude."

"…Pick the human one," Kazuichi told her flatly.

Ruby shifted uncomfortably.

"RUBY ROSE, ARE YOU A MONSTERFUCKER?"

"I'm pretty sure that was racist," Ruby told him.

"Shit…it was. Sorry." Kazuichi rubbed his forehead. "I'm still not used to the new rules, you know. The ones where everything exists. I'm trying to get better, okay? But anyway, if you wanna do that guy, pick that guy."

Ruby bit her lip.

"You really do have it for both of 'em."

"WHY…DO YOU THINK…I WOKE YOU UP…IN THE MIDDLE OF THE NIGHT?"

Kazuichi cracked an awkward smile. "To ask why I wasn't at Elf Practice?"

"…What?"

"Never mind. Look, I'm not sure I can help you! All I've ever done is fuck up! I only JUST got to the stage where I realized I had to treat Sonia like a person who was equal to me, let go of the idea that she owed me anything, figure out how she felt about me, take 'no' for an answer, and be ready to move on if she didn't want me! Hell, I WISH there had been another girl so maybe she would've actually liked me and we could've worked something out after I figured that part out!"

Ruby blinked. "So…you're saying this entirely depends on which one of them likes me back, and I should wait to find that out before making a move? And that it's a good thing I like two guys in case one of them falls through? And in the meantime, I should just treat them like the good friends they are and not put them on pedestals or expect them to owe me anything? KAZUICHI, YOU'RE A GENIUS! THIS IS WHY YOU'RE MY NEW YANG!"

She hugged him tightly, briefly. Then sped back to her room, slamming the door.

Kazuichi stood in the hall for a good two minutes before just muttering "The fuck?" and trudging back to his own bed.

...

Mozenrath hadn't exactly planned out the consequences of his little white lie. Then again, he wasn't sure how he could have expected this. He stood at one side of his strategy table, Mr. Mistoffelees napping among his papers.

On the other side, Snatcher, Roman, and Wuya were lined up, clothing torn and sporting the edges of burns to show the bruises they'd accumulated as they glowered at Mozenrath with pure deadly rage. Then there was Mim, who was clad in a pristine gown with several black-and-white ruffles and not a flaw to be seen; its skirts billowed as she twirled about behind the ragged trio.

Mozenrath sighed. "…All right. What happened?"

Snatcher, Roman, and Wuya all began shouting at once:

"IT WENT HORRIBLY WRONG FROM THE GET-GO – "

"THE FUCKING PURPLE CAT IS A LIAR – "

"EVERYTHING IN THE TULGEY WOOD LOOKS THE SAME – "

"DOORS UPON DOORS UPON DOORS, AND AN EMBARRASSMENT I'LL NOT LIVE DOWN IN THIS LIFE – "

"NO SHIT THE KINGDOMS ARE AT WAR! A 'YOU ARE HERE IN NO MAN'S LAND' SIGN WOULD'VE BEEN NICE AT LEAST - "

"DO YOU KNOW WHAT A JABBERWOCK IS? YOU DON'T WANT TO KNOW WHAT A JABBERWOCK IS – "

"THE MOST ASININE GAME OF CROQUET I HAVE EVER PLAYED IN MY LIFE, AND SURPRISINGLY, THAT IS SAYING SOMETHING – "

"HOW? HOW DO YOU SERVE THE CAKE BEFORE YOU CUT IT? HOW DO YOU SERVE THE CAKE BEFORE YOU – "

"IF YOU ASK ME, THE BABY WAS ALWAYS A PIG, EVEN BEFORE IT WAS A PIG – "

"OH, AS THOUGH THE ETIQUETTE FOR ADDRESSING A MOCK TURTLE IS STANDARD ACROSS REALMS – "

"IF I NEVER SEE THAT ASSWIPE BILL THE LIZARD AGAIN – "

"EAT ME! DRINK ME! EAT ME! DRINK ME! EAT ME – "

"FALSE ACCUSATIONS! I HAD TO ADMIT TO BEING ALLERGIC TO AVOID SUSPICION OF HAVING EATEN FAR MORE TARTS THAN I COULD IN MY LIFE, ONLY FOR IT TO TURN OUT THE QUEEN WAS AS WELL – "

"AT WHICH POINT SHE JUST RIPS OUT A LOCK OF MY HAIR, CALLS IT 'EVIDENCE,' AND SOMEHOW THAT OUTWEIGHS ALL THE ACTUAL EVIDENCE WE FOUND – "

"WASTED TWENTY-FIVE POTIONS CHANGING SIZE IN THE GARDEN – "

"THE MONSTER SETTING ITS CLUBS ON FIRE WAS NOT FAIR IN THE SLIGHTEST – "

"HOW DID I GET BEATEN AT CARDS BY ACTUAL CARDS – "

"SO I PAINTED ONE ROSE! HOW WAS I SUPPOSED TO KNOW – "

Mozenrath swiped his arms furiously to get them all to stop. "All right, all RIGHT! So scouting Wonderland was a mistake!"

"At the VERY least," Wuya growled through gritted teeth. "If you so much as think about establishing territory there – "

"It's gonna be mutiny," Roman broke in. "Four against one! And we'll get the others on our side, too!"

"You know I can quite easily at least earn their pity vote," Snatcher said coldly.

"We can forget this ever happened," Mozenrath sighed. "What kind of bribes are you looking for to cover this incident up?"

"Name me captain of the training grounds," Wuya demanded. "I decide who is allowed in and out."

Snatcher tapped his fingertips together as he mused; "I do believe one more karaoke night than was originally scheduled would serve to quiet me…and while coming in drag is not required, this time, it will be encouraged on all advertising materials."

"Just give me back my munitions forge privileges," Roman sighed.

"Done," Mozenrath said as he pointed to Wuya. He then moved his finger to indicate Snatcher; "Done." He lingered the longest over Roman; "…And done."

Roman pumped a fist; "Yessssss."

"Just…one question." Mozenrath shut his eyes, rubbing both temples in advance because he knew the answer would bring a headache, but it was better than not knowing. "What's with Mim?"

As one, Snatcher, Roman, and Wuya groaned in the exact same cadence, "Mim's the Queen of Spades now."

And there was the headache. "HOW?" Mozenrath asked.

"DON'T ASK," Wuya seethed in a tone that turned Mozenrath off from the very prospect.

What he did say was "Now, if I'm understanding this right, this means we ALREADY DO HAVE TERRITORY IN WONDERLAND."

"Oh, no we don't!" Mim broke in for the first time. "I'm not going back! Lovely as that world was. Oh, we all had so much fun…"

The death glares she got from the other three did nothing to dissuade her. Quite the opposite, in fact.

"The point is, I'm never returning to those cards again," Mim huffed. "I'm going to make them wait for me, and never return, only occasionally scrying them to see how they devolve into anarchy! Oh, how delicious!"

"And let me guess," Mozenrath said, eyes still shut. "You were going to do that to at least ONE territory in our empire anyway, so we might as well get it out of the way with the one nobody wants to deal with anyway…least of all me, from the sounds of it."

"You know it!"

Mozenrath waved his hand at them; "You're all dismissed."

On the way out, Roman clapped his hands together; "So, who wants to help me build a bomb?"

"Tonight, our base is Vietnam," Wuya chimed in.

"Yet again, I do find myself LOATHING my attachment to you," Snatcher sighed. "Of course I want to."

"You don't want to sit around the fire and relive our fondest memories of Wonderland?" Mim cajoled. "Such as when Wuya was nearly decapitated, or Snatcher had to deal with that madman admiring his hat and stalking him for miles, or Roman somehow managed to lose a caucus-race?"

Mozenrath lay his head down on his desk; Mr. Mistoffelees pawed at his hair sympathetically. "And this is why I hate improvising," the sorcerer groaned.