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.

116. How Bad Can This Possibly Be?

A/N: Content warning for discussion of depression, and also some other things in the end-note. There, I will also explain some of the AU for the new sources introduced.

...

When Scar came upon Zurg, the latter was adjusting some manner of mechanical device bearing flashing lights of all colors just outside the doorway that led to Maleficent's audience chamber. Given that Scar was supposed to enter that very audience chamber, and Zurg's work was positioning the other right in front of the door he required to do that, the lion asked rather snidely, "And what is so important it insists you stand right there?"

"I have been summoned by Maleficent to this chamber," Zurg explained, turning the last few dials. "Of course, I thought I'd set the mood a little bit before I walked in. Dramatic entrances are one of the most delicious parts of evil, you know."

Scar realized he could empathize. "Well, I suppose that is true. As a matter of fact, I was summoned as well. I wonder what she could want."

"There!" Zurg stepped back, and the machine began to emit a stream of thin fog. "Now, we just have to wait for it to warm up, then we enter as threatening silhouettes in a cloud of mystery!"

"You know," Scar commented, "it rather reminds me of the steam geysers in my own home territory. You'd be surprised how easily the idiots fall in line once you position yourself in such a manner behind them that they frame you. …Though given your position, then again, you wouldn't."

"Hardly. That's why this is so important. They know we aren't to be messed with when we go to the trouble of putting on the show."

"Have you considered utilizing natural rock formations and earthquakes to get your point across?"

"Have YOU considered actually CAUSING the planet-quake to make an unnatural rock formation that suits your purposes?"

A raspy voice cut through the exchange: "What are you two doing?"

Ozai (or at least his Nobody that went by that name) had arrived with Zhao in tow. The former had an expression of extreme displeasure carved into his face while the latter simply looked perplexed.

"Setting the stage for our dramatic entrance," Zurg stated. "I presume the two of you were summoned as well? Maleficent must be making a meeting of the minds with fellow tyrants."

"There is no time for this foolishness," Ozai growled. In a brilliant flash, he'd set the fog machine aflame, destroying it completely.

"PARTY POOPER!" Zurg put his hands on his hips and glared at Ozai.

"That truly wasn't necessary," Scar sighed at the Fire Lord.

"As a matter of fact, it was." Ozai stalked through the door. "Things are getting out of hand around here. It is time someone brought some order to the chaos."

Zhao gave Zurg and Scar the briefest of glances, and they thought they could almost read sympathy in it. However, he quickly moved on, so it wasn't as though that sympathy was worth anything of value.

Zurg sighed. "Come on. Let's just get this over with."

He and Scar followed to find Maleficent deep in conversation with Ursula. " – And I'm not just saying that because I want her to be my cuddle-fish," Ursula was stating. "That one's up to her. All I'm saying is that she has the exact criteria we were looking for in the Atmos girl before she got annoying."

"She may be a fitting vessel indeed," Maleficent stated. "Keep your eels' eyes on her. I shall contact her should she prove useful."

"Ooh, are we gossiping?" Zurg said excitedly as he clasped his hands together; Ozai winced, feeling as though a blood vessel in his forehead was about to burst.

"That's none of your turtlewax," Ursula snapped.

"I have called you here for a very specific purpose," Maleficent stated.

"An assemblage of usurpers and emperors?" Scar supposed.

Maleficent smiled. "Perhaps not quite. There is one other who has not seemed to have arrived as of yet."

On cue, a voice whined out, "WHO'S THE PARTY POOPER WHO BROKE THE FOG MACHINE?" Joker strolled in, rolling his eyes. "Grimdarks these days and their lack of aesthetic."

"I fail to see the sense of this gathering," Ozai growled at Maleficent.

"You need not see the sense in my decisions," Maleficent reminded him. "You need only obey them."

"Malef's top dogfish around here," Ursula added. "Learn that quick or sleep with the fishes."

"No…more…wordplay," Ozai seethed.

"Oh, why not?" Ursula rebutted. "Does it get your diving bell in a twist?" She punctuated that with a low chuckle.

"I like your style!" Joker complimented through a gigglefit.

"WELL?" Zurg cried. "The suspense is killing me! WHAT is the purpose of gathering us?"

"You are to undertake a special mission for us," Maleficent informed the group. "Ursula shall serve as your captain."

"But sheeeee was never even an emperor!" Zurg protested.

"I ruled all seven seas for ten minutes!" Ursula reminded him. "Can YOU claim that?"

"…Admittedly, no," Zurg admitted. "Carry on."

"We believe there may be information crucial to our objective of becoming the gods of the worlds contained in Wan Shi Tong's library, on the homeworld of Zhao and Ozai," Maleficent stated.

Ozai bristled. He hadn't missed how she'd put him second. And he knew she knew.

"Wan Shi Tong's library!" Zhao gaped. "Of course! It was there that I learned how to destroy the moon!"

"Silence," Ozai hissed. "We needn't be reminded."

"Actually, I'd rather like to hear this story," Scar brought up. "The entire moon, you say?"

"Who needs the moon when you can control the tides by trident?" Ursula scoffed.

"I blew up a moon once," Zurg added. "Just saying."

"No one CARES about the MOON!" Ozai seethed.

"Oh, you're sick of hearing about the moon?" Joker chuckled. "Moon moon moon moon moon moon moon – "

"Oh, wonderful," Zurg sighed. "Now you've said it so many times that it doesn't even sound like a word anymore!"

"SILENCE!" Maleficent cried, raising her arms; all looked to her rather sheepishly, except Ursula, who knew she was within Maleficent's good graces far too deeply to worry about such things. "You will proceed to the World of Four Nations to enter the spirit world at the point of Wan Shi Tong's library. Ursula will provide the necessary magic to do so. Zhao, you shall draft instructions to locate the library on the physical plane, though you shall not be accompanying the team itself on this endeavor."

"Why not?" Zhao growled. "Did I not prove my worth back in Atmos?"

"There are other matters I wish to discuss with you," Maleficent stated. "Once you have delivered the necessary instructions, return to me at once."

"…Yes, Mistress of Evil." Zhao bowed.

Ozai didn't like that. As far as he was concerned, Zhao should have been bowing to only one person.

"So you called me all this way to send me to browse some stuffy library?" Joker groaned. "How dull."

"You know," Zurg muttered, "I'm not exactly keen on this being solely a research mission, either. I say we take control of the largest kingdom in power on this world and use it as a new sub-base of operations!"

"I would not waste time – " Maleficent began.

"You apparently know the way to my heart," Scar chuckled. "It's been so long since I've had territory to bend to my will."

"Ooh, sounds like fun!" Joker cried. "When do we leave for the takeover mission?"

"It is not a takeover mission," Ozai growled. "We are there to retrieve the – "

Zurg raised an index finger to the sky; "LAST BATHROOM BREAK BEFORE THE TAKEOVER MISSION!"

Maleficent let out a scoffing sigh as the party, sans Ursula, paraded out of the room, Ozai trying and failing to take control as the Joker talked over him on purpose in order to obfuscate his voice ("You know, I bet I can do a pretty good impression of you. Something about that voice…").

"Maleficent," Ursula cooed. "I'd be the last one to say I don't understand why you picked out this crowd for this mission. After all, at least one of them seems like dead weight to dump…and I'm beginning to think I know which one. But you only just did bring Zurg aboard. Why, it hardly seems fair to put him through the paces so soon after guaranteeing his seat!"

"I was not under the impression that you cared about what was 'fair,'" Maleficent observed.

"Oh, I don't," Ursula reassured her. "But surely there are other ways he can be useful to us. Things he can trade to us, such as his intellect or drive. I have so many, many empty shells, after all."

"The outcome of this mission shall decide their fates," Maleficent stated. "To tell you the absolute truth, I am rather…hopeful."

"Oh, but then why test them?"

"Tell me, Ursula. Why do Sora and that foul Mozenrath so often claim undue victories?"

"Magical prowess? Oh, but we have that in spades!"

"It is because their teams function as units," Maleficent stated. "Yet both of them allow weak links. I seek to create a balance. A strong faction, but a unified one. If one of your charges were to demonstrate both weakness and inability to function among the faction…"

"I get the feeling we're on the same page," Ursula realized.

"Then go forth," Maleficent bade her, "and prove me correct, or prove me wrong."

...

Vexen had a horrible headache. That headache could be subdivided into six smaller headaches named "Roman Torchwick," "Archibald Snatcher," "Mad Madam Mim," "Yzma," "Wuya," and "Zevon."

Because at that very moment, all six of them were in the midst of an enormous and sonorous squabble over at Yzma's lab station, arguing over whose team should get the compass next.

"MY MOTHERNAL FIGUARDIANS AND I REQUISITIRE THE COMPASS TO LOCATIONATE THE NEXT GEMSTONE OF THE CORONA AURORA!" Zevon yelled.

"And how are WE supposed to know where Maleficent's forces are without it?" Roman countered. "Just go hopping from world to world and HOPE we trip over them?"

"I mean," Wuya pointed out, "they do seem to turn up everywhere we go. That doesn't sound like a weak strategy at all."

"Might I remind you," Snatcher growled, "that the space we shall be searching is INFINITE?"

"So is the space we're searching for one tiny little rock in!" Yzma seethed. "Searching infinity for a large organization of people is much easier than searching infinity for a tiny gem!"

"That's not how infinity works, honey," Wuya whispered into her ear. "Infinity is infinity whether you – "

"I am attempting to win the compass to our side," Yzma said dryly. "My logic does not have to be sound. It simply has to persuade them."

"Well, my logic is if we don't get the compass, I'm going to throw the largest tantrum you've ever seen in your life!" Mim threatened. "And nobody here wants that! Except me. Well, now I might just do it anyway – "

"If you're GOING to throw a tantrum anyway," Yzma asked, "why should we give you anything you want?"

"Way to blow it, Mimsy," Roman sighed.

"AHA!" Zevon cried suddenly.

"Miss Yzma," Snatcher posed. "Miss Wuya. Both of you were present at the assigning of this mission. Lord Mozenrath's orders. He does so desperately wish us to put a dent in Miss Maleficent's confidence. Whereas his directions regarding the Corona Aurora were…well, they were…" He smirked broadly. "Why, he didn't mention it at all, now, did he?"

"Can it," Wuya replied. "We WERE there, and we also know he wasn't THAT desperate. It was YOU TWO who wanted to get out of the house."

"I SAID 'AHA'!" Zevon repeated.

"Everyone," Yzma stated, "I believe my son has had an idea and is attempting to get our attention so he can share it."

All eyes turned to Zevon. "Well?" Snatcher posed. "Go ahead."

"There is one classicalized methodicalization of solvenating such disputarguments!" Zevon recalled. "A time-tested solvenution! This hallonored practition is…ROCK-PAPER-SCISSORS!"

"Now, waitwaitwait." Snatcher put up a hand.

"Before you tell me it's an immaturical children's game – " Zevon began to argue.

"No," Snatcher said firmly. "I merely meant to ask if that was your way of butchering 'paper-scissors-stone.'"

"…Er, no," Yzma argued. "He got it right that time. …For once. It's rock-paper-scissors."

"My dear Miss Yzma. You've obviously spent far too long around that linguistically-confused son of yours. The game is called 'paper-scissors-stone.'"

"I thought it was 'rock-scissors-cloth,'" Wuya brought up. "You're all saying it in the wrong order, AND paper doesn't make any sense. How does paper beat a rock? A rock tears right through paper."

"Scissors-rock-paper," Mim said with arms folded just to cause more annoyance on purpose.

"Yakyuken variety or no?" Roman asked. "Not that I want to play yakyuken with this crowd in particular. But maybe a certain two of us behind closed doors…"

"You'd also want to see if we can bother Lord Mozenrath and Mr. Liu into it, then?" Snatcher posed.

"Wh…what? No-ho-hooooo! You are definitely the ONLY – "

"As far as commitment, I'd better be, Torchwick. Stripping paper-scissors-stone…well, three handsome men and one less so are better than one handsome man and one less so, are they not?" This with a mischievous wink.

"Oh-ho-ho!" Roman laughed triumphantly. "I didn't know you would be down! Though let's be real. Four handsome men."

"Oh, really?" Wuya asked, brow raised. "Who are you getting to replace Snatcher, then?"

"THIN ICE, EYELINER," Roman growled with a threatening point.

Yzma leaned over to whisper in Wuya's ear; "I've completely missed the jumping-off point for threatening to strip in front of them if they don't give me the compass, haven't I?"

"Unfortunately," Wuya sighed.

"ENOUGH!" Zevon yelled. "We shall determinate the victorior through a round of…of the game that consists of a stone, a cutting tool, and a fragmentariary of loose material, not necessarily in that order!"

"I'll play my side!" Mim stepped proudly forward.

"And I'll play mine!" Yzma moved to face her down. "Show on three!"

"Fine!"

Each put out a fist. They then shook their hands twice: "ONE, TWO…" Then opened them. "THREE!"

"HA!" Yzma yelled. "Rock beats scissors! I win!"

"Oh, does it, now?" Mim grinned. "Does your rock beat THESE scissors?"

In a flash of silver, Mim's hand had morphed into an actual set of conjoined blades, snipping toward Yzma's fist. Yzma withdrew her hand in a panic.

"YOU'RE CHEATING!" she accused.

"WELL, DUH!" Roman reminded her. "IT'S MIM! WHAT'D YOU FUCKIN' EXPECT?"

Wuya then gently took Yzma and Zevon's arms and escorted them away from the lab area. "What – what?" Yzma sputtered. "Where are we going?"

"You'll see," Wuya told them. Then she went back and did the same to Roman and Snatcher, who had begun to notice the large circular shadow spreading out beneath their little group.

"Yeah, I see where this is going now," Roman sighed.

"Well, I don't," Mim said as the shadow grew larger and darker.

Then, as if the ceiling above were only a holographic projection, an enormous boulder, shot through with veins of glowing green crystal, fell through it to plummet hard into the floor. Mim was not crushed, save for one single body part that had been caught in the stone's trajectory. She pried her hand out in shock, gasping to see the scissors bent beyond recognition. "YYYOOOOUUUUU – "

"Rock beats scissors," Wuya told her. "End of story."

Mim flicked her hand, returning it to its normal shape. "Fine. But only because you won it unfair and un-square, and I have to respect that."

"Leaving us with the conundrum of how to locate our targets," Snatcher muttered.

"Oh, for the love of – " Vexen stormed over to the crowd; Drakken, who'd been working across from him at his station, trotted behind. "Just use the compass to pinpoint a target world for the Overtakers, then turn it over to the winning party! Anything to end this ruckus!"

"Okay, but I get to do the thing!" Roman yelled as he rushed to click the compass into the base of the globe. "Show us one of Maleficent's friends. Any of 'em. …Preferably the easy ones to beat?"

"Coward," Wuya whispered to Yzma.

"I MEAN THE HARDEST ONES TO BEAT!" Roman corrected, having heard her. "BECAUSE WE CAN DO THAT!"

A world came into focus on the globe. "Yo, Iceman!" Roman demanded. "Translate?"

"No." Vexen slammed a large leather-bound book down on the table. "I have projects on which I wish to concentrate. To that end, I have created THIS so you would not bother me with this question anymore!"

"Huh." Roman traced the cover. "The Complete Atlas of the Known Multiverse."

"It was actually my idea," Drakken broke in. "I'm just saying."

Roman began to flip through it. "This is actually…weirdly useful," he realized. "I like the little 'You are here' signs and the marked rest stops and restaurants."

"Also my idea," Drakken piped up.

"Yeah, this oughta keep us off your back for a while, Iceman," Roman said as he paged through. "Let's see…coordinates, coordinates."

"I TOLD you!" Drakken yelped triumphantly.

"That you did," Vexen said in somewhat of awe. "This should give us some uninterrupted time to work on our…innovations."

As Vexen stalked back to his lab station, Drakken sneered, "You hear that? INNOVATIONS. Oh, we have INNOVATIONS coming, all right. Advancements that are going to revolutionize the WHAM ARMY and blow…your…feeble…minds."

"Literally no one cares," Roman and Wuya said as one.

"Ngh…" Drakken scowled. "You may think you're in charge around here, but we're the brains of this operation, you know!"

"No, we are," Wuya sighed. "Which is why we fail so horribly at most things. But we own it."

"You – I – ah – " Drakken sputtered before turning on a heel and marching away. "I'LL BE BACK WHEN I HAVE MORE ONE-LINERS!"

"GOT IT!" Roman jabbed his finger at the atlas. "World of Four Nations!"

"Oh, I remember that one!" Mim chirped. "Mozenrath almost died there! Such good memories."

"Okay, my turn!" Yzma edged in next to the globe. "Show us the pearl of the Corona Aurora!"

The globe re-fixated. Yzma practically ripped the atlas from Roman, flipping pages back and forth as she muttered, "How do you read this thing – "

"You know, there's a little key in the lower right corner that explains – " Roman attempted.

"I CAN SEE THAT!" Yzma snapped at him. "These views are all from the wrong direction. How can I get a top-down view of this patch?"

"Well, maybe," Roman told her, "if you looked in the table of contents to see how they were ordered – "

"You expect me to believe YOU read a TABLE OF CONTENTS?"

"I'M NOT THAT STUPID!"

"Ah!" Yzma pointed. "Found it! …I think." She squinted at it. "Geode Galaxy…huh. Interesting name…"

"Oh, I've heard some things about that one," Wuya realized, wide-eyed. "This is going to get interesting."

"We have our assignments!" Yzma crowed as she ripped the compass out of the globe's base. "Now let's MOVE!"

As the six hurried away, they chose to ignore Vexen's call of "AT LEAST REMOVE THE GIANT ROCK BEFORE YOU – oh, never MIND!"

...

When Roxas found Mal in the reading room, she was hunched over her phone on the couch. He swallowed hard, his left foot pivoting to take him away down the hall. Maybe it wasn't the right time.

No. If now wasn't the right time, it never would be.

"Hey," he said softly as he entered the room. "Mind if I – "

Mal patted the cushion beside her. "Go right ahead."

Roxas made himself comfortable there. "Mal…we need to talk about what happened in Twilight Town."

"Yeah. I really messed up with that."

"Don't say that," Roxas urged. "It wasn't your fault, and you turning into that dragon saved the city! Anyone who thinks – "

"No," Mal corrected, smiling at him. "I mean I made the mistake of putting Piper and Olette in a group text to introduce them to each other because I thought they could talk about nerd stuff, and now I have no idea what they're even saying. Something about crystals. Euhedral? Anhedral? Do YOU have any idea what an 'allotrope' is? Because Olette thinks that a Bright Gem is just an allotrope of what Piper called a 'Nil Crystal' and I'm so lost right now."

Roxas laughed. "No idea. Sorry. So, uh…you need some time with them or – "

"Not if we're going to keep talking about allotropes." Mal set the GummiPhone aside. "What's up?"

"In Twilight Town," Roxas reiterated. "You and me…we…we realized something, didn't we?"

Mal shifted. "You mean…that we like-like each other. Or…is it just me that likes you that way?"

"No, it's me, too," Roxas told her. "I…I've liked you for a while. But I didn't know if I should say anything, in case I was the only one."

"It took me a while to figure it out," Mal admitted. "There were a million thoughts in my head, and my heart's not used to listening, and…I finally realized it when we were together there. When we were goofing off at the party shop, when I got scared for you because of the monster, when you stood up for me and told everyone your secret…" She sighed. "You shouldn't have done that. You could've gotten away from that."

"But you couldn't have," Roxas reminded her. "And I wasn't gonna let you go down alone. You're amazing, Mal. You're my friend, but I feel…a different kind of emotion about spending time with you than I do with my other friends. Even Lea. I spent a year wondering if I'd ever know the difference, and now it's just so clear to me."

"I really like being around you too," Mal told him. "So…what should we do about it?"

Roxas scratched the back of his head. "…I don't know. I don't have a great frame of reference for how this stuff works. All I know is that when you l…feel that way about someone, you fight to protect them. But we did that, and there can't be enemies all the time."

"My mom didn't give me a great frame of reference for dating, either," Mal admitted. "I mean, she had a thing for Hades for like forever, and she never did anything about it. Kinda hope they're together now, honestly. Not that either of them deserves anything good in their life, but…I dunno, it wouldn't hurt us."

"Yeah, I get it," Roxas realized. "I know that with my friends, I would always go out for ice cream with them, but that's for any friend."

"I like ice cream, though," Mal told him. "We could just do that anyway. It's not like it wouldn't be fun."

Roxas nodded, beaming. "Yeah! Okay! You wanna go now?"

"Sure!"

They stood, prepared to exit the room side-by-side. But Mal hesitated; "Hey, Roxas?"

"Yeah?"

It was so stupid, she berated. How could a daughter of Maleficent be so shy about asking for such a simple gesture? "Can I – "

Her GummiPhone emitted a techno tune, informing her she was receiving a call. "Hang on," she said as she fished it back out. "If this is about allotropes, I'm hanging up."

When she answered, however, she was met with the face of Ludwig von Drake. "Hello, dere!" the duck greeted. "I am glad you are answering! Now, to connect to ze phone of Roxas – "

"He's right here," Mal said as she shifted the phone over between them.

"Hey, Professor von Drake," Roxas greeted. "What's up?"

"What is up?" Ludwig repeated. "What is up is some very, very good news indeed! Ze house I am sharing with Scrooge has just been robbed and vandalized!"

Mal and Roxas exchanged puzzled looks. "I…don't see how that's good news," Roxas admitted.

"Ohoho, but ze timing!" Ludwig asserted. "It can only have happened whilst you were battling ze corporeal form of Julius! Zat can mean only one thing: Julius was just an overlarge diversion! Ze culprit's REAL target was our riches! And my inventions! Ooh, I'll get zem back if it's ze last thing I do, mark my words – "

"Still not seeing the upside here," Mal told him.

"Ze investigation, dear girl!" Ludwig asserted. "Zis is evidence AGAINST you being ze perpetrator! Once we have ze culprits identified, we can prove iron-cladly zat you had nothing to do with Julius, not one little eensy teensy bit!"

"That's great!" Roxas cried.

"Potentially not great," Mal realized. "If the crooks work for my mom, that actually double implicates me, since it makes it look like I made the distraction."

"Well, now, I highly doubt zat is ze case," Ludwig stated. "Zis robbery was…messy. Too messy for one of Maleficent's sort. Also, we are having many clues stack up in ze case of an old criminal syndicate from our homeworld: ze Fearsome Five! Five quirky bandits with only one brain cell to share between zem, only after fame and fortune! I highly doubt Maleficent would associate her with such types. Zere is a pattern to how she picks her allies, after all. I am working on a flowchart that demonstrates ze recruitment of…well, never mind zat; zat's all jargon and nonsense to you."

"Kinda tired of hearing about nerd stuff," Mal admitted. "Not gonna lie."

"Wait," Roxas realized. "What about the WHAM ARMY? If the Fearsome Five are with THEM…"

"Then they would NEVER work with my mom!" Mal realized. "Everyone knows that! …Or they should. They might only see what they want to if it makes things simple."

"We have to clear your name," Roxas insisted. "Tying the crime to Maleficent's sworn enemies might be the key we need!"

"Soon as ze chlorine gas has been expunged from ze house," Ludwig explained, "I am to put my very best forensic skill to ze case! Though it would be easier by miles had zey not taken ze crimeputer, but I suppose zat electric rat could not resist. He is probably wining and dining it now."

"Wait, what?" Roxas asked.

Ludwig waved a hand; "Never mind. Zat is all ze update I have! I will let you know when zere is more!"

And with that, he disappeared from the screen.

"If we clear your name," Roxas asserted, "then people might not hate you in Twilight Town anymore!"

"That'd be nice," Mal admitted. "But I really only care about if the important people like me. Like you."

Roxas laughed nervously. "I'm…happy to like you."

"Well, I like you too," Mal forced out – she had to build up the courage, just to ask this one little token – "and I was wondering if I could hold your hand while we walk to ice cream?"

Her heart was thudding altogether too loud. A nightmare-born girl shouldn't be this easy to fluster, she chided to herself.

"I'd love to," Roxas said as he reached out to intertwine his fingers with hers.

It felt so natural, then. As the pair exited the room, they swung their interlocked hands a little bit. If the world hated them, they at least had what mattered.

...

"You know, we haven't talked to Harley in a while."

As Peter Merkel watched Garfield Lynns place the red checker down, he realized, "You know? You're right. We should check in. Also." He moved a black checker. "King me."

"What – when did you – okay, never mind. Couch?"

Garfield sat down on the soft couch; Peter leaned up beside him, practically melding to his shape, twisting an arm around his upper body. Just the way they both loved it. Garfield dialed Harley's number, and it rang twice before a familiar voice said "Yello?"

"Harley Quinn!" Peter greeted. "How lovely to hear your mellifluous voice again!"

"PETER!" Harley squealed. "To what do I owe the pleasure?"
"Just checkin' in," Garfield told her.

"Heya, Gar!" Harley chirped. "How's it hangin' over there in bad-guy-land?"

"Dangerous and full of crime," Garfield told her. "Say, y'know how we talked about running a heist together on our own time?"

Peter didn't even have to be consulted to be on board. "It's a big multiverse out there," he insisted, "full of beautiful, shiny little trinkets to be collected by people who know their worth. A designer purse for you, an antique doll for me, a few signed first-edition records for Garfield – "

"About that," Harley said with a nervous laugh. "I'd love to. Really, I'd love to! But I'm kinda tied up here for a while. Somethin' came up, an'…oh, boy, this is gonna take all I got."

"What's wrong?" Peter asked.

There was the sound of a loud thud, as though something heavy had hit the floor. Then, a voice spoke in monotone, not really shouting yet loud enough to be heard from behind Harley: "Look, all I'm saying is that I don't wanna listen to songs that promote heteronormativity by excluding pronouns in a deliberate pitch to define a relationship as between one male and one female. It's just not fair to people who identify as homosexual, bisexual, nonbinary, or certain other orientations and gender identities."

"Newsflash!" This voice was louder, more expressive, and actually shouting. "I'M GAY AND I LOVE THAT SONG! WHY ARE YOU SPEAKING FOR ME? HUH? HUH? YOU GOT AN ANSWER, SMARTY-PANTS?"

"…You get new roomies already?" Garfield asked.

"Sorta," Harley sighed. "Look, I'm at Terminus' place right now. The shop, I mean, though he lives upstairs, and so do these guys. …This guy an' this person, sorry."

"Just say 'guys,'" the emphatic voice urged. "JUST SAY 'GUYS.' IT'S GENDER-NEUTRAL."

"Now you're the one speaking for me," the monotone voice pointed out, "and I appreciated her correcting her gendered references to more accurately reflect me."

"This sounds like quite a tale is behind it," Peter observed.

"Yeah, there is," Harley groaned. "You got time for a long story, or ya want the short version?"

"Long version," both Garfield and Peter said as one.

"Okay," Harley sighed. "So this one day, the Doc an' Hoagy are out investigatin' this one world 'cause there's s'posedly this super great entrepreneur livin' there who made some boomin' business sellin' things nobody needed."

"EVERYBODY! NEEDED! THEM!" the emphatic voice yelled. "THAT WAS THE POINT! I PUT IT IN THE SLOGAN!"

"Sor-ryyyyy," Harley groaned, clearly already exasperated. "Hang on. I want some privacy for this. I'm movin' upstairs." The squabbling voices behind her decreased in volume as she went on; "Okay. So the Doc, he figures if he can get aholda this guy an' become business partners, the shop'll boom, right? 'Specially since that guy kinda got…put outta business due to environmental concerns combined with supply an' demand…"

...

Terminus and Hoagy had traversed a wasteland in order to find a technological oasis: a bustling city of all colors and shapes, cute suburban abodes intermingling with marvels of engineering. And not a single scrap of nature among it, save the human beings who lived there. No birds. No fish in the water (which was questionable at best when it came to fitness for human consumption). And not one plant anywhere.

It hadn't taken long for Terminus to locate the man in charge of the city's primary moneymaking commodity and quickly realize that person was exactly who he did not want.

"I never!" he huffed as he stormed away from the pastel skyscraper, clutching his top hat. "Not only was that the most ANNOYING little man I've ever met, he didn't even build this empire! He just usurped it!"

"Ya gotta admit, though," Hoagy pointed out. "Sellin' air 'cause the people here can't breathe it no more outside is a pretty solid business move. Almost reminds me of somethin' you'd do."

"Yes, well…I would do it less annoyingly!" Terminus insisted. "In fact, take that down as a memorandum! Find a post-apocalyptic wasteland and begin selling purified air to it at steep prices!"

"Extortion and plagiarism?" Hoagy asked, impressed. "You're on a roll today."

"Well, at least SOMETHING'S in order," Terminus sighed. "What did he mean, the CEO LEFT after running out of trees? There's nowhere to go! And this world hasn't discovered interspace travel, or else no one would live here of their own volition!"

"I think the city's kinda nice."

"I think it's garish and full of idiots."

"Well, that too."

"How am I supposed to find him now?" Terminus groaned. "All that's out there is wasteland!"

"Well, maybe he made a hideout," Hoagy suggested. "If we go out there and roam around a bit, maybe we'll find somethin'."

"Don't be ridiculous, Hoagy. It isn't as though we're going to find the legendary absent CEO simply by walking around in the wasteland and hoping to run into – "

...

Far away from the city limits, beyond a graveyard of heavy-duty vehicles equipped with axes and blades, there was a tall house, gray and crooked against a permanently dark sky.

"It's the only lead we got," Hoagy told Terminus as the two of them looked up at its upper reaches, to the one light in the boarded-up window on the uppermost floor. "And whaddaya know? Found it by complete accident, walkin' around in the wasteland."

"Don't remind me," Terminus grunted. "But this can't be the place. The man we're looking for was filled with flash and glamor. This is…oh, how to put it politely…"

"A fixer-upper?"

"A dump, Hoagy. It's an utter dump with no hope of salvation."

"Well, where else are we gonna look?"

Terminus sighed. "I suppose we might as well."

He strode over the creaking floorboards to the front door. A sign tacked to it came into view through the thin fog that blanketed everything. If that sign had the correct name on it, then Terminus was, in fact, at the correct address, and he wasn't sure if that was good or terrible.

With one slender finger, he depressed the doorbell.

And nothing happened.

So he pressed it again and again. "Don't tell me you aren't home," he muttered. "You can't not be home. There's nowhere for you to go out here!"

A sound he could only describe as a "slupp" diverted his attention. An old-fashioned brass speaker attached to a pipe had slupped down next to him. From the speaker, a voice: "You know, I was just gonna ignore you, but then you rang my doorbell about a thousand times, so I'm assuming you're not gonna go away until I talk to you. Well, I'm talking to you now, and I'm saying GO AWAY."

"You won't even hear me out?" Terminus retorted. "But I have a business proposition of wondrous – "

"NO BUSINESS PROPOSITIONS," the voice asserted. "Nope. None. Noooooo way. Seriously, did you not read the signs I put up on the way here? At least one of them says 'No business propositions.'"

"I saw that," Terminus replied. "And I chose to ignore it."

"You know what? That's it. I'm gonna install a catapult beam in that deck. I'll do it. I have too much time on my hands and way too many mechanical parts lying around. That'd be a fun way to spend my retirement, right? Outfitting my house to KEEP PEOPLE AWAY FROM IT. Maybe I should put in one of those claws, too, so I can lift them around like a claw-machine toy. But, seeing as I don't have either of those things, right now, I'm just relying on the good old Whisper-ma-Phone and the vain hope that you have manners. LEAVE…ME…ALONE."

"But I just want to talk!" Terminus pleaded – though the pleading was more of an act to mask his growing annoyance.

"Price for talking to me is officially fifteen cents, a nail, and the shell of a great-great-great-grandfather snail," the voice huffed.

"Hang on." Terminus began to rummage in his pockets. "Believe it or not, I've actually got those things. One of my last customers decided to pay in change, and another thought the shell would make a nice tip – ah, here we go." He tossed the assorted items into the Whisper-ma-Phone. "Now may I speak?"

"What the – " The voice sounded perplexed. "Ooookay. Fine. I'll listen. But only because I'm just really impressed that you happened to have those exact things in your pocket."

"Let me start by introducing myself," Terminus began. "Dr. Wesley Terminus, entrepreneur of a thousand worlds and then some."

"Pfft. Worlds. What sci-fi convention did you escape from?"

"It's true!" Hoagy chimed in, running up to the Whisper-ma-Phone. "We've got a magic way outta here to our shop that sits between all the worlds, and people from all over come to buy magic stuff from us!"

"The only shop of its kind," Terminus asserted, "selling nearly-certifiable, almost-genuine products for every whim!"

(Needless to say, several days later, when Liquid Assets opened, Terminus would be most disgruntled about not being able to honestly make this claim, and yet would continue to make it anyway.)

"But enough about me," Terminus went on. "Let's talk about you! Mr…Once-ler, was it?"

A long pause. "Yeah. Yeah, that's me. So, you here to bug me for an autograph or something? Get the signature of the man who singlehandedly ruined the ecosystem? Hawk it online for half a million bucks or something?"

"As I said before," Terminus told him, "I am here to discuss business. You are the one who invented the thneed, aren't you?"

"Not something I'm proud of, but okay, yes. Where is this going?"

"My business is expanding," Terminus explained. "As such, I've recently found myself a little…short-staffed. I could use a cool head for business that has expertise in marketing, sales, and promotions."

"No experience in environmental protection compliance necessary!" Hoagy added.

"Now, I'm not going to take in just anyone," Terminus went on. "I need someone talented. Someone with skill. Someone with style! And above all…someone who isn't chained down by a moral compass."

"Geez, is that what you're here for?" the Once-ler groaned. "To see how bad I can possibly be? Well, look around! I maxed out the badness! Not doing any more bad! Nope! No sir! Not today!"

"So where has being good got you?" Terminus asked slyly.

That disarmed the Once-ler. "What?"

"Well, you seem to be living a rather…pathetic and shabby life," Terminus reminded him. "You're surrounded by death and decay, and you're out here all alone. Living off the land, I presume. No, wait, there isn't any land to live off. How are you even surviving?"

"I send drones to the city to pick up my groceries," the Once-ler replied. "This might come as news to you, but I can't exactly show my face around there. Not after royally messing up to THIS level."

"You do realize your empire has been taken over by the most annoying little man, don't you? Selling canned air because you poisoned it all?"

"Was any part of that supposed to REASSURE me?"

Terminus went on: "The point is, your life is currently miserable. Your conscience is keeping you out of that city, that city that you raised up from the ground, that city named after your most glorious invention, and if they're breathing canned air in there, then what are you breathing out here?"

"What I deserve," the Once-ler said coldly.

"Now, forget about all that," Terminus told him. "Are you really going to live out here on the verge of fading into obscurity with nothing but your own depression for company forever? Or do you want more?"

"I have all the 'more' I need," the Once-ler insisted. "When the Lorax lifted himself, he gave me a job. One more Truffula seed. It goes to whoever deserves it, which is, let's be honest here, not me! Because UNLESS somebody out there cares a whole awful lot…nothing is going to get better."

"It's not," Terminus affirmed. "So you're going to wait for someone to care enough to find you with barely any hints."

"I'd say that proves they'd care, yeah."

"Not march right into that city and hand that seed off to the first bright-eyed young heir you find?"

"No. That is a DEFINITE no."

"Well, do you call that good?" Terminus posed. "I call it rather selfish, and I don't even understand the point. You're so bent on simply wallowing in your own sorrows that you're not doing good or bad. You're just not doing anything."

"SHUT UP!" the Once-ler yelled. "That's it. I'm done – "

Terminus rang the doorbell.

"I hate you," the Once-ler groaned. "Fine. I'll finish hearing…whatever. But only because I know you're not going away until I do. Even though the answer is no."

"Do you WANT to live like this?" Terminus asked. "Do you want to be lonely, sad, and cooped up in this lean-to until somebody comes exploring out here in…what, fifty years? Sixty? When you're all old with an enormous mustache and can't do anything with your newfound freedom? Is that what you HONESTLY want?"

"…No," the Once-ler admitted.

"Who would?" Terminus posed. "But if you abandoned your guilt here. Passed off the seed – or take it with you, keep it in your pocket; I don't care. Put your talents to work where you can't mess up because there aren't any trees to begin with. Work in a building where you have at least two co-workers for company and can meet customers from fabulous, far-off places. You'll never have to be alone again! Really, what good is it doing you, stewing around here and going over everything you did wrong over and over again? There's only one road that leads down, and that doesn't involve surviving long enough for your Chosen One to show up."

There was a long, drawn-out sigh from the Whisper-ma-Phone. "If I was gonna leave, I'd go back to the city."

"But you don't want to go back to the city."

"I DON'T want to go back to the city."

"I'm offering you an easy way out," Terminus assured him. "Isn't that preferable to playing the waiting game? Don't you wish this whole mess would just sort itself out by magic? Well, it can't. But it can be left behind."

Dead silence from the Whisper-ma-Phone.

"Once-ler?" Terminus asked. "Did you hear me? Are you there?"

Still silence.

"I'm going to ring the doorbell again," Terminus taunted, his finger wiggling over the button. "Multiple times, in fact."

No sound from the Whisper-ma-Phone – but the sound of light footsteps from behind the door. Terminus backed up, in fact rather surprised that his speech actually had finally pierced.

The door creaked open. The man beyond was young, mid-twenties at latest. He was tall and thin as a rail, but Terminus was also tall, and so was able to stare right into his big blue doe eyes that reflected a sense of general confusion with his very state of being. His suit, with its green-coattailed jacket and tall top hat, had likely once looked quite dapper, even flamboyant, but it had seen better days, and Terminus wondered if he'd changed it once in the year he'd been absent from Thneedville. (Then he wondered if the Once-ler had bathed at all in that time. Depression would do that to you. He would have to fix that; couldn't have a business partner who smelled of year-old sweat.)

"Fine," the Once-ler said. "I'll go. I don't even know if I believe in the whole 'other worlds' thing, but even if you're about to kill me and dump my body in a river with the toxic waste, it'd still be better than staying here." He sighed. "You're right."

"I always am," Terminus told him. "Now, come with us, young man – " He reached out to place his hand on the Once-ler's back to guide him out the door, then remembered how long he'd been wearing the same jacket, and the ambivalence of the bathing question. Withdrawing his hand, he simply said, "We've got a lot of work to do."

And so Terminus, Hoagy, and the Once-ler set out across the wasteland, back to Terminus' Gummi ship. On the way, Hoagy remarked, "Y'know, it's great that we found Once-ler and all, but we still gotta get some new cashiers to staff the new branches."

"I'm not letting another Gavin happen," Terminus grumbled. "This time, all of my cashiers will be thoroughly vetted. They must be polite, yet still have a touch of villainy in them. I'll need about four. Showmanship is a bonus."

"Gee, that's a tall order. It's not like that's gonna just drop outta the sky."

Exactly then, a shooting star streaked across the dark, polluted sky above them. Its bright comet-tail grew larger and larger, indicating that it was about to land very, very close by.

Before any of the three men had a chance to react, the star landed in the desolate road before them. It wasn't actually a star.

It was a cluster of four people, all touching the edges of a star shard. A star shard that one of them had picked up a while ago in a chance encounter, and had been showing the few friends they had left in a bonding experience. The other three had all wanted to know what it was, and now they were scattered in the road before Terminus, Hoagy, and the Once-ler.

Terminus took note of their appearances. Two were elderly women, with white-powdered faces and white hair tied into buns atop their heads, chunky spectacles paired with floral-print dresses. They must have been identical twins (triplets, actually, but there was no way Terminus could know about the third, who had perished), as they looked exactly alike save a few minute differences.

One was a very tall man with a long nose and a bald head that probably would have shone if there were any light to reflect off it. His eyes were wide with pure bewilderment.

The fourth, the owner of the star shard by chance, was also tall, and rather awkward in their movements, batting the shining eyes embedded in their soft-featured face as they gave an expression that might appear to be apathy to the untrained eye but was in fact just as much confusion as that of their companions. They bore a head of chin-length auburn hair that curled ever so slightly.

"Where are we?" one of the white-faced women asked.

"Is this a bad place we have gone as punishment for our sins?" the other cried worriedly.

"We were already lost in the first place," the bald man said anxiously, "and now we really have no idea where to go or what to do with ourselves."

"I mean," the auburn-haired person of indeterminate gender said in a flat monotone, "we were already trying to find a place in the world despite being a theater troupe that had committed a lot of acts of evil and is still considering moral relativism. But now that we've been transported to what I can only assume is an alternate dimension, things definitely aren't going to get any easier. I wish we could find someplace to at least get employed for financial stability."

"Hoagy," Terminus whispered.

"Yeah?" Hoagy whispered back.

"I need you to say that it's not like millions of munny will come raining down from the heavens," Terminus hissed. "Right now."

...

And so Terminus thought he had it made. He stationed the two women (Charlotte and Emily) and the bald man (Bolton) at three branches of The Liminal Space he'd established across the worlds. As for the fourth, who went by the name "Ainsley," he kept them at the primary establishment, sensing they were more or less the brains of the operation (though that was a very low bar). Ainsley was, in fact, the one who'd told Terminus of their origin story: they (and one other person who the others had mixed feelings on, as he'd turned traitor but for what seemed to be legitimate reasons on paper) had worked as associates to a wicked man named Count Olaf, buying into several schemes to help him obtain custody of a set of orphaned children and thereby gain inheritance of their fortune. The troupe had not so much wanted to take part in the more murderous aspects of this lifestyle, but had very much enjoyed donning evil disguises, putting on shows for the art of deception, and causing mild mayhem.

Therefore, it was only a natural move for them to be trained in on the registers, despite their lack of business acumen. At the very least, Ainsley had informed Terminus, "Working for a bona fide villain and running from the law is really, really good training for customer service."

Terminus couldn't disagree.

He liked having Ainsley at the main branch. Ainsley might not have had the brightest smile or the happiest vocal timbre, but they were intelligent and diligent, with a stunning work ethic. Terminus saw Ainsley as somewhat of his own child, and couldn't imagine transplanting them to any other branch.

Which made it very, very awkward when it turned out they and the Once-ler did not get along in the slightest.

It began simply enough. The Once-ler had introduced himself: "Hi. I'm Once-ler Geisel. You might know me as the guy who destroyed the ecosystem around Thneedville and caused Truffula trees to go completely extinct."

"Why did you do that?" Ainsley asked.

"Well, I made this invention," Once-ler said with a nervous laugh, "and let's be real, it was a pretty great invention. It could do anything, but it needed to be made out of Truffula fluff. And I was one of those dream-chasers who wanted to build his own business empire, soooooo I kind of established an entire city based on selling my thneeds and ran the trees right out of the ground doing it."

"Oh," Ainsley said, silent for a while. Then: "So you're one of those capitalistic sheeple who doesn't use his profits to fix the myriad of problems in the world that could be attended to if the upper class would pay any attention."

"Wha – " the Once-ler sputtered. "Okay, that was RUDE."

"But it is true."

"YOU – "

But it hadn't stopped there.

"I just think we should make an effort to make our marketing materials more gender-neutral," Ainsley told Terminus. "Right now, we're enforcing stereotypes by surrounding masculine-targeted cosmetics with flame graphics in our catalog while the women-oriented products are on perfumed pink pages. While a lot of women have managed to reclaim pink, there are still many more who are either uncomfortable with or have no interest in doing so. Also, there's nothing in our catalog targeting the nonbinary demographic at all, and aside from the pride flag, I don't even know what graphics are even associated in that direction."

"Oh my gosh," the Once-ler sighed from across the room. "Are you serious? Are you even serious? It's just flames and the color pink. It's not that deep. We're not going to enforce 'man good, woman bad' by printing with flames and pink."

"Actually, on a micro-level, we are," Ainsley insisted. "Messaging we see in our everyday lives piles up and acts subliminally to uphold toxic status-quo."

"NO! IT DOESN'T!"

This went on for several more days.

"Can you please not listen to that while I'm balancing the books?" Ainsley groaned.

"What, this song?" The Once-ler turned up the radio, letting the guitar scream out even louder. "Ohhh, noooo, now it's even louuuuderrrr!"

"I don't even understand how you get any serotonin off listening to songs that follow the predefined structure for consumption. There isn't actually any heart in this song at all."

"Okay, NOW that was personal. This song makes me feel things, okay? Don't tell me it doesn't have HEART. Actually – " The Once-ler cranked it to maximum volume. "Don't tell me anything at all, because I CAN'T HEAR YOU!"

But the next day, as the Once-ler was going over the books, he broke out into snorting laughter. "You're such a smarty-pants, and you don't even know how to add two-digit numbers? Why did the Doc even let you anywhere near these worksheets?"

"Mathematical acumen doesn't determine overall intelligence," Ainsley muttered, self-conscious.

"You know what I think?" the Once-ler posed. "I think you use all those big words and talk about all those fancy concepts because you're dumb as a rock, and you're trying to hide that."

"You know, I might mess up my math, but I've never caused an entire genus of tree to go extinct. That's actually more stupid."

"YOU KNOW WHAT – "

In his apartment above the shop, across from the small quarters where Once-ler and Ainsley were stationed, Terminus rolled over in bed beside Hoagy. How Hoagy could sleep through the ruckus downstairs, he didn't know. All he could hear, at three in the morning by Liminal Space time (which was completely arbitrary), was –

"We shouldn't be promoting anything made by people who have done extremely problematic things. That normalizes it in our society."

"What, are you saying my music is cancelled? Oh, wait, no! You're talking about ME! You're saying I'M cancelled!"

"That is not what I'm saying, though honestly, working here would actually probably be way more fulfilling if you were cancelled."

"I am SO SICK of your SOCIAL JUSTICE WARRIORING – "

"You do realize that term has become a slur used by the far political right in order to completely shut down any and all progressive talk – "

"YOU'RE SAYING I'M NOT PROGRESSIVE NOW? I'M PROGRESSIVE! I WANT RIGHTS FOR EVERYONE!"

"Well, you sure don't act like it. You actually seem like the sort of person who would claim your working relationship with me, a transgender and nonbinary person, proves that you aren't prejudiced."

"I'M NOT THAT DUMB! YOU SERIOUSLY THINK I'M THAT LEVEL OF DUMB? YOU'RE NOT JUST SOME PROP I USE FOR WOKE POINTS! WHAT YOU ARE IS ANNOYING, WHICH HAS NOTHING TO DO WITH YOUR GENDER AND EVERYTHING TO DO WITH THE FACT THAT YOU WON'T SHUT UP ABOUT 'THE ISSUES'!"

"The issues are important."

"Nyeh, theissuesareimportant!"

"Repeating what I said in a mocking tone isn't actually an argument toward anything."

Terminus rolled over and stuffed the pillow over his head. The debacle must have begun over one of Once-ler's favorite rock bands having a member in it who either took advantage of women or had made a grand total of one joke about homophobia that was taken out of context (Ainsley wasn't picky), because the next thing Terminus heard was whatever band that was being played at, again, full volume. And that cut completely through the pillow.

The next morning, as he sat at the counter with bloodshot eyes and watched Once-ler and Ainsley fight about paper bags versus plastic bags versus reusables, he realized he didn't care who was bigoted, who was progressive, who was a capitalistic sheeple, who was a social justice warrior, who was cancelled, who was problematic, any of it. He just needed this to end at once without losing either of his favorite employees.

Hoagy sighed from where he stood behind Terminus, lightly rubbing his shoulders to make up for the fact that his partner hadn't gotten anywhere near enough sleep. "It's just too bad we don't know a pop psychologist we can call up to mediate between those two for free," he mused.

Terminus' eyes widened. "Hoagy…please tell me I'm not just sleep deprived and that you actually did just do it again."

"Do what again?"

...

"…Aaaaaand that's why I'm stayin' at the Doc's," Harley concluded.

"So how's it going?" Garfield asked.

"Well, uh…" Harley laughed nervously. "I think we made a couple breakthroughs. They both got real broken egos, that's for sure."

"I kind of agree with that Once-ler guy, though," Garfield said. "I mean, I wouldn't call anyone an SJW, but there are some things you just can't take that seriously."

"Hmm…I rather like Ainsley's outlook," Peter stated. "They bring up several points I hadn't considered. However, Garfield, I am willing to agree to disagree on several points because I love you."

"And I'm not gonna pick any fights with you unless they become seriously topical," Garfield replied. "Because I love you too. Okay, see? Was that hard? Why can't your clients just do that?"

"I don't knowwwwwww!" Harley wailed. "They're two of the most stubborn people I ever met! And I once teamed up with Penguin!"

Garfield and Peter winced.

"But I am bound and determined to fix their workin' relationship!" Harley went on. "In fact, no! I ain't even gonna stop there! By the time I'm done with 'em, they're gonna be best buddies!"

"Not sure you can actually make that happen," Garfield warned.

"Sounds like you're challengin' me," Harley scoffed. "An' Harley Quinn don't back down from a challenge!"

"I believe in you, Harley!" Peter cheered.

"Thanks, Peter!" Harley replied. "Anyway, the only thing I'm gonna be lookin' at stealin' for the next week or so is these two's attention away from hatin' each other. You guys go on an' have fun without me. I'll catch up with ya later! Maybe we can run the crime circuit back in Remnant! That'd be fun!"

"How about we promise you a little reward?" Peter suggested. "Reconcile your clients' relationship, and we'll take you out on the town anywhere you want in Remnant to blow off any residual steam."

"Yeah!" Harley chirped. "That sounds like – "

From the distance: "LOOK, I AM A JERK AND A FAILURE IN MANY RESPECTS, BUT I AM NOT A PLEBEIAN!"

"Gotta go!" Harley said quickly. "Crisis needin' avertin' in the makin'!"

The line disconnected.

"So you really think she can fix those two's relationship, huh?" Garfield posed.

"I believe our dear friend Harley is capable of a lot of things," Peter replied. "Miracles included."

"Well, she's kinda pulled off a lot of 'em already, so I guess I can't argue. I just hope they don't wear her out."

Garfield's scroll rang in his hand, and without even checking the ID, he swiped it to answer, hurriedly saying, "Harley, it's okay. You're gonna get through this. Just go lock yourself in a soundproof closet or take a walk around the store and let them yell it out. You don't have to fix everything."

"You do not pay attention to who's calling your scroll, do you?" Mozenrath's voice sighed over the speakerphone.

"…Oh," Garfield realized. "What's up, Righty?"

"Meet me in the control room," Mozenrath demanded. "I have a special mission for you. Oh, and bring Ragdoll."

The line disconnected.

"Ooh, a special mission," Peter repeated. "That sounds like it bodes well."

"It sounds like Righty wants us to do some dirty work for him," Garfield suspected. "Either way, we gotta check it out."

...

The lines had been drawn. On one side, Aqua, Ventus, and Rosalina were braced for battle. On the other, Sora, XR, and Katara glared in response.

"You don't stand a chance," XR stated.

"I think we stand plenty of chances!" Ven retorted.

"You're going down," Aqua growled.

"No way!" Sora called back.

"Bring it on!" Katara urged.

"If you insist," Rosalina said coldly.

The fruit-scatterer unleashed an enormous apple. Aqua and Katara rushed to spike it over the net; Aqua won that round, Sora quickly diving to deflect it back over at the opposing team – and more fruit was on the way.

Aqua performed a quick Spellweave beneath a bunch of grapes to send them shooting at the opposing team as scattershot; XR produced enough guns from within his body to perfectly shoot down each one in an explosion of juice. He barely had time to rest on his laurels before slipping on a banana peel. Sora stopped a watermelon from stunning him by hitting it over the net with a Strike Raid; his Keyblade knocked it into Ven, who was momentarily held still. Rosalina responded by steering another watermelon around herself with a flick of her wand, directing it at Sora to immobilize him. Ven broke free of his stun, quickly spinning into a Salvation to launch an incoming pineapple across the net. More pineapples were coming up fast, and so Ven and Aqua, after exchanging a nod, cast a Time Splicer, freezing the pineapples in place before leaping up into the air to smack them across the courtyard. Rosalina sent an extra boost of energy after them, causing the pineapples to hurtle with faintly-visible glittering comet tails.

"OH, NO!" Sora cried once he realized that the insta-stuns were coming in a storm toward his team.

"ACE UP THE SLEEVE!" XR commanded. "SECRET WEAPON!"

Katara threw herself in the midst of the pineapples, performing a spinning leap, hands outward. She sucked the pineapples dry of all moisture, thereby nullifying their stuns and making them much harder and denser, with leathery textures.

"SHOOTING STAR!" Sora cried, swapping out his Keyblade for a new Keychain that Yen Sid had presented him. With his Shooting Star Keyblade equipped, he kept focus in his mind on the lesson Yen Sid had given him that morning regarding Keyblade formchanges. In his hands appeared a pair of arrowguns where once there had been a Keyblade, multiple shades of blue.

However, it was more than a formchange he had in mind. The cry was a cue for XR; Keybearer and robot performed a quick swing-dance step together without touching before XR launched into the air, Sora leapt higher, and both let off a barrage of ammunition that hit all of the toughened pineapples and sent them hurtling back toward Aqua, Ven, and Rosalina.

Ven barely had enough time to yell "NO – " before he and his teammates were pummeled.

"YEAH!" Sora landed on the ground to deal high-fives to Katara and XR.

Without any sort of warning, Papyrus simply dropped onto the field from above – no one could tell exactly from where he'd leapt – bending his knees at the caps to absorb the shock of the landing. As he stood and pointed to Katara, he accused, "IT ISN'T FAIR!"

Katara shrugged. "We kind of agreed everything was fair play here. Keyblade tricks, mechanical attachments, waterbending…if what I did was cheating, then what they did over there was DEFINITELY cheating!"

"WHAT – " Papyrus looked about, curious. "OH. YOU'RE PLAYING A GAME. I WAS REFERRING TO SOMETHING ELSE."

"What?" Sora asked.

"Seriously, this had better be important if you're going to interrupt our winning streak like that," XR grumbled.

"I can't believe I'm about to say this," Katara groaned, "but if the game stops now, it means we win by default, so you should be happy."

"HA!" XR pointed across the net. "IN YOUR ORGANIC FACES!"

"Wow," Katara sighed. "I haven't seen Toph in forever and now I'm channeling her."

"THAT IS EXACTLY THE MATTER I'VE COME TO DISCUSS!" Papyrus revealed. "NOW THAT WE HAVE ALL OF THE STORM HAWKS ASSEMBLED, IT ISN'T FAIR THAT YOUR FRIENDS ARE NOT HERE WITH YOU AS WELL! WE MUST GO BACK TO YOUR HOMEWORLD IMMEDIATELY AND ASSEMBLE THE GANG!"

Katara looked gobsmacked at first. Then she said, her voice hitching, "Actually, I could say the same about you. Why don't we go back to your world and pick up your friends first? I haven't seen your world, anyway. It could be fun!"

"FOUR REASONS!" Papyrus argued. "ONE: MY FRIENDS CAN TAKE CARE OF THEMSELVES. NOT THAT YOURS CAN'T, BUT SO LONG AS UNDYNE IS AROUND, EVERYONE IS IN SAFE FINS. I'M JUST SAYING. TWO: I CAN MAKE NEW FRIENDS WHEREVER I GO! …APPARENTLY. THIS IS ADMITTEDLY A NEW DEVELOPMENT. BUT YOU HAVE A STRONG BOND WITH YOUR FRIENDS THAT IS LIKE A BROTHERHOOD, AND NO ONE CAN REPLACE THEM FOR YOU! THREE: BECAUSE I WANT TO ENSURE ALL OF MY NEW FRIENDS HAVE THEIR NEEDS MET WITHOUT PUTTING MYSELF AHEAD OF THEM! FOUR: …BECAUSE I GET THE FEELING YOU DON'T WANT TO SEE MY WORLD ANYWAY, GIVEN WHAT IT WAS LIKE WHEN I LEFT AND WHY I WAS TOLD IT WOULD BE BETTER FOR ME TO LEAVE. BUT YOU CAME HERE SEEKING ADVENTURE! AND NOW YOU CAN GO BACK AND TELL YOUR FRIENDS ALL ABOUT IT BEFORE INVITING THEM TO JOIN US!"

"Yeah!" Sora asserted. "I bet Aang and Zuko would LOVE to get in on this!"

"Well…I…" Katara sputtered, dragging a toe on the ground. "Can't argue with that."

"Katara?" Aqua asked. "Is something – "

"NOTHING'S WRONG!" Katara yelled. "Just – fine! You're right! We should go find Aang and the others and invite them! But there's no promising they'll want to come anyway! There's a lot to take care of on their world, too!"

"Hmm…" Ven muttered as he observed.

"In fact, we should go right now!" Katara insisted. "Let's get on the Condor and get flying! Last one there's a rotten turtle-duck egg!" She turned and hightailed it out of the courtyard.

"Wait!" Sora called over her. "We need to decide on a team first!"

"THIS LOOKS LIKE A PRETTY GOOD TEAM SETUP," Papyrus observed.

"I'll say it does…" XR made eyes toward Aqua and Rosalina.

"No," Aqua groaned.

"If you must treat us so," Rosalina told him, "we shall simply cut you out of the mission."

"Don't tell me we have to go through a whole true-love thing to get HIM to learn a lesson!" Sora groaned. "This time better not involve love potions."

"Okay, fine," XR resolved. "I wanna get out of the house, so I'll play nice and keep my hands to myself. Ladies, consider yourselves RESPECTED."

"Besides…" Rosalina chuckled. "I heard a rumor regarding a particular woman in Twilight Town."

"Wha – NO!" XR said defensively. "She's just another skirt to chase! That's what I do, you know! It's not like I'm enamored by her gratuitous profanity or the fact that she's the only person who seems to care if I get smashed in a – YOU KNOW WHAT? I'M NOT A ROTTEN EGG!" He blazed out of the courtyard after Katara in hopes of overtaking her.

"I feel like those two need chaperones," Aqua sighed.

"Who better than us?" Rosalina asked before she and Aqua took off after them.

Sora and Papyrus made to leave as well, but Ven urged, "Hey, guys. Hold on."

"Yeah?" Sora asked.

"WHAT IS IT?" Papyrus added.

Ven slid under the net to stand by the other two. "I think something's really bothering Katara about going back to her homeworld," Ven observed. "Maybe this isn't such a good idea. I almost think we should just try and talk to her before making any decisions."

"SOMETHING IS DEFINITELY BOTHERING HER," Papyrus agreed. "WHICH IS WHY IT IS ALL THE MORE IMPORTANT WE GO."

"…What?" Sora cocked his head. "How does that make sense?"

"BECAUSE WHEN YOU HAVE AN ISSUE WITH A FRIEND," Papyrus stated, "THE ONLY WAY TO WORK IT OUT IS THROUGH DIRECT COMMUNICATION. OBVIOUSLY, KATARA DOES NOT WANT TO TALK TO US ABOUT WHAT IS WRONG. BUT IF WE CAN GET HER FACE-TO-FACE WITH THE FRIENDS SHE IS CURRENTLY AVOIDING, THEN SHE WILL HAVE NO CHOICE BUT TO ADDRESS THE ISSUE HEAD-ON!"

"…I feel like I should be arguing that won't work," Ven realized, "but actually, that sounds kind of genius."

"Of course!" Sora balled his hands into excited fists. "Who would know better how to help Katara than her oldest friends?"

"I THINK THIS MISSION WILL BE A SMASHING SUCCESS!" Papyrus proclaimed. "ALREADY, I AM LOOKING FORWARD TO SPENDING THIS TIME WITH YOU! WE HAVE A GOOD TEAM ON OUR HANDS!"

"Yeah," Ven agreed. "We kinda accidentally assembled a great squad for our Fruitball game. But we needed you to get things rolling."

"GUYS!" Sora cried. "I just remembered!"

"REMEMBERED WHAT?" Papyrus and Ven said in unison.

"THAT!" Sora pointed at the opposite end of the courtyard. Then, when the other two turned to look, he bolted, yelling, "ROTTEN TURTLE-DUCK EGGS!"

"HEY!" Papyrus yelled. "NO FAIR!" He took off after Sora, practically steaming.

It was all but assured Ven would be the spoiled egg. All the same, he laughed with pure joy as he followed.

...

Mozenrath tapped his right index finger on his left forearm as he waited, arms folded, for the pair he'd summoned to show up. He gave a sigh, rolling his eyes. Really, he'd thought they would be here by now.

Then, before his eyes, the grate covering a ventilation duct peeled off and hit the ground. Peter came oozing out of it, backflipping before he hit the ground hands-first. "You rang?" he said cheekily, lifting one hand so he now supported all of his body weight on the other, legs pretzeling in the air.

Mozenrath flinched. "…I should've known."

"Known what?"

"That you wouldn't use the door."

"Well, yes, that's rather a given now, isn't it? …You weren't facing the door, I might observe."

"The goal was to turn around dramatically when you showed up," Mozenrath groaned. "Like this." He turned to the door, cape billowing, as he spread out his arms; "Well, well. Look what the sphinx dragged in. I'm sure you're wondering why I summoned you here today." He then dropped his arms and the façade. "Well, at least it still might work with Garf – "

"Yo, Righty!" Garfield came strolling through the door Mozenrath was still facing. "So why'd you summon us?"

Mozenrath's entire body clenched. "Why do you do these things to me?"

Garfield looked past him to Peter. "What's his damage?"

"Dramatic entrances ruined, apparently," Peter stated. "Er, no…what's the inverse of a dramatic entrance?"

"FORGET IT!" Mozenrath yelled. "Let's just talk business."

"Yeah," Garfield said as he stood beside Peter, who looped one leg through his arm, knee and elbow interlocking.

"Now," Mozenrath began, facing them both. "The reason I – Peter, are you going to be doing THAT the entire time?"

"I have an assortment of equally incredulous poses to choose from if you'd prefer," Peter said with a mischievous smile.

"Is any of them standing up straight like a normal person?"

"Mm, let me think…no."

Mozenrath pinched his forehead before shaking his head vigorously. "All right, from the top." He lowered his hand, opening his eyes. "The reason I summoned you both here is because I have a special task for you. The next phase of the recruitment drive is about to begin, and George, Hämsterviel, and I are returning to your world to pick up a few more thugs of interest."

"Thugs of interest," Garfield repeated. "Name any names?"

"Mostly looking at the Riddler," Mozenrath stated. "He's an eccentric, an intellectual, and a wielder of flair."

"Fair," Garfield said. "Just so long as we're not inviting Freeze to – " He stopped short. "…Wait, so is that all we're doing? Just going there to recruit Nygma and beating it?"

"Yes," Mozenrath asserted. "Is there a problem with this itinerary?"

"No," Garfield told him. "Though for personal reasons, I wanna bring Irmaplotz."

"…Okay," Mozenrath replied. "Not sure why you insist, but I don't really see a reason why NOT, so I'll allow it."

"If this is about what I think it is," Peter realized, "this almost seems like the sort of matter that should stay between siblings. I'd want to give you the needed space."

"Up to you," Garfield told him.

"Wait." Mozenrath flinched. "What is what you think what is?"

"Is what I think what?" Peter winked.

"You just said – there's something going on here, and I don't like it," Mozenrath groaned.

"Don't sweat it," Garfield told him. "Irmaplotz and I have some stuff to take care of in Gotham. We'll get Nygma on our side, then do our little sidequest, and you don't even need to know."

"I think I do."

"And how are you planning to make me talk?"

"Right," Mozenrath groaned. "You're a longstanding member with loyalty points aside from one breakaway incident. All of which adds up to me not being able to torture you without knowing the PR nightmare it would cause."

"Thaaaaat's the spirit," Garfield told him.

"Well, just so long as I get at least one of you," Mozenrath relented. "I don't care who. I just need someone with a reputation in the criminal underworld who can earn us ethos points with Nygma."

"Then I'm your guy," Garfield stated. "When do we leave?"

"I sent George and Hämsterviel on ten minutes ago. Ergo, we leave ten minutes ago. Or we SHOULD have, but two of us decided to take our TIME in the hallway."

"You do realize we cannot teleport, don't you?" Peter posed.

"I reserve the right not to answer that question," Mozenrath muttered.

"Look," Garfield said. "You go on ahead. Start laying foundations. Irmaplotz can make us a Corridor, or I'll take a skimmer if she won't come."

"Fine." Mozenrath cast a Corridor for himself. "But don't be late this time. Because if I have to trade banter with a man who speaks primarily in riddles without a home field advantage, I'm not going to be a happy caravanner."

He disappeared into the Corridor, leaving Garfield to quickly text a "where r u?" to Irmaplotz.

The response, ten minutes later, was one "I don't know where the ru is." Followed by "Or WHAT a ru is."

"Okay, I had that coming," Garfield grunted as he corrected his grammar.

He and Peter found Irmaplotz in her old favorite reading room, where she had company in the form of Zevon, Yzma, Wuya, Draco Malfoy, and Jack Spicer.

"What's all this?" Garfield asked.

"The dawn of a new era!" Yzma cried, pointing a finger to the ceiling. "…Well, actually, just assembling a mission squad for the next gem of the Corona Aurora."

"I had thought to invitate some of my companquaintances from the laboratorium," Zevon stated.

"We thought we'd make it a Potions Trio and Family mission!" Irmaplotz squeaked.

"Don't call us that," Draco sighed.

"You really think of me as part of your family?" Jack said in awe, voice cracking.

"Well, duh – " Irmaplotz began.

"No." Wuya pointed a finger directly at his face. "No, no, no. I am not your mother figure. You are not my son figure. You are a nuisance who happened to be my only route to Shen Gong Wu for a year that took an eternity."

"This'll be just like old times!" Jack beamed. "See? You're already degrading my already scant self-worth! I missed you!"

"STOP THAT," Wuya huffed, folding her arms.

"I mean, it's pretty obvious he picked up makeup tips from you," Yzma teased.

"HIS FACE WAS LIKE THAT BEFORE I SHOWED UP!" Wuya insisted.

"Yeah, Wuya and I both get the importance of the proper evil aesthetic," Jack said dryly. "Something the rest of you could stand to work on. Except Irmaplotz…" He sighed. "She's already perfect."

"Aww!" Irmaplotz squealed.

"I'm not wearing bloody eyeliner," Draco seethed.

"I have never attemptioned makeup," Zevon realized. "That must change!"

"Sorry to break up the band, but I have an alternate plan for Irmaplotz," Garfield broke in. "Unless you really wanna go with them. But this won't take long. You can probably catch up after."

"Depends on what we're talking," Irmaplotz told him.

"So remember how I promised to help you wreck your ex?" Garfield asked.

"It seems a bit…I dunno…early to do that," Irmaplotz mused.

"I don't know why I agree, but I do," Garfield told her. "However, Righty just assigned me as an ambassador to the criminal underbelly of Gotham. The main goal is to get the Riddler on board, but I have a little side trip in mind. How'd you like to come help me wreck MY ex?"

"I'M THERE," Irmaplotz said with wide eyes. Then, looking sheepishly around at her teammates, "Eheheheh…not that I don't wanna go with you guys…"

"I understand." Jack put a hand on her shoulder. "We need to establish independent identities and maintain them in order to function as a unit."

"Does watching them make anyone else want to throw up everything they've eaten over the past forty-eight hours?" Wuya groaned. "…Or maybe that's actually a stomachache. You'd think I'd be used to having a physical body by now."

"I'm just amazed HE'S the one always telling everyone ELSE to get a room," Yzma sighed.

"IN MY DEFENSE," Jack screeched, "YOU TWO COULD'VE WARNED A PERSON WHAT THEY WERE GETTING INTO!"

"In our defense," Wuya said flatly, "we were in a room."

"Ooh, what happened?" Peter asked, sensing gossip.

Zevon let out a coarse sigh. "After assemblaging the team, we returnated to Mother's quarters to reconnaissilect…"

...

Zevon, Draco, Irmaplotz, and Jack had mobilized before the door to Yzma and Wuya's quarters. "Mother always said never to disturbancate her in her quarterings," Zevon muttered. "We shall have to be politicite in this manner."

He then began to pound on the door loudly, yelling, "MOTHER! HURRY UP! WE ARE READY!"

No response.

"These flats aren't that large," Draco muttered. "She and Wuya mustn't be there."

"I mean, we could sneak in and look," Irmaplotz pointed out. "I can get us past that door, easy."

"It does attrouble me that we are so strictly forbiddingen from entrancing," Zevon muttered. "I am, admittedingly, curiositous."

"Oh, I am SO down for seeing what Wuya's pad looks like!" Jack cried. "I bet she tricked it out with all KINDS of magic!"

"If there's one thing I've learned from my days at Hogwarts," Draco reminded them, "it's that when you're forbidden from entering a room, there's a damn good reason."

"So you're saying don't do it," Irmaplotz sighed.

"No," Draco corrected. "Because if I've learned a second thing, it's that whatever's inside that forbidden room is worth taking."

The four emptied out of a Corridor into the foyer to realize that it was much larger on the inside than it implied from the spacing of the doors outside. It had also recently been redone from green and jagged to a more squarish, purple aesthetic with Yzma and Wuya's faces carved in silver ornaments that mounted on the walls.

"That's definitely not creepy," Jack squeaked, "and they are definitely not staring into my soul."

"THEY WERE HIDING ALL THIS THE WHOLE TIME?" Draco cried.

"Oh, we could blackmail this to Mozenrath," Irmaplotz mused. "We could blackmail this big-time."

"First things first," Zevon resolved, "we need to locationate my mother and Wuya. I think I hear them behind that curtain."

The curtain in question served as a partition hung from a large arched doorway. There was indeed sound coming from behind it. As the quartet got closer, they realized the sound was definitely that of two women moaning.

"Zevon," Draco hissed in warning. "Don't – "

It was too late. Zevon had thrown back the curtain, yelling, "MOTHER, I – AAAAUUUUGH! NO!" He shielded his eyes. "YOU'RE NAKED! I CAN NEVER EXSPONGE THIS SIGHT FROM MY EYES!"

From where they lay beneath their thin blankets on the massage tables where the rock creatures had been working out the tensest knots in their backs, Yzma and Wuya stared at Zevon, utterly gobsmacked.

"That could have been worse," Draco sighed.

...

"Hey, I'm scarred for life!" Jack whined as Peter laughed it up.

"The point is," Wuya insisted, "Jack's a hypocrite AND a Peeping Tom. The rest of his friends are just Peeping Toms."

"Yeah, well, consider this Tom un-Peeped," Irmaplotz told her. "…Wait, that didn't make any sense, did it?"
Yzma and Wuya shook their heads in unison.

"Anyway, Gar and I have an unspoken agreement," Irmaplotz went on. "…Or maybe we spoke of it once. I don't really remember. But I help him thaw Mr. Freeze and he helps me…um…okay, what's a good pun for 'Dave'?"
"Assists with your en-Dave-or to get revenge?" Peter suggested.

"Be the Goliath to your David!" Zevon chimed in.

"Do you even know how that story ends?" Draco asked. "No. Of course you don't. You're from the BCE era."

"Don't say that," Wuya told him. "BCE era. 'BCE' stands for 'Before Common Era.' So you just called it the Before Common Era era. It's like those people who say 'ATM machine.'"

"Wait," Yzma realized, "the 'M' stands for 'machine'? I thought it stood for 'magistricide.'"

"WHY WOULD IT STAND FOR 'MAGISTRICIDE'?" Draco yelled.

"Isn't magistricide what you were trying to do before the one guy who taught you potions had to commit your murder for you?" Irmaplotz recalled.

"SEND DAVE TO THE GRAVE!" Jack cried. "…For the pun thing. Okay, so it's more of a rhyme than a pun – "

"Okay, we got way off topic and Righty's been waiting in Gotham for about forty-five minutes now," Garfield reminded the group. "If you're in, we gotta get goin'."

"I'll catch up with you guys later, okay?" Irmaplotz told the rest of her now-former team as she opened up a Corridor.

"Not if we find that gem before you melt the iceman," Draco said snidely.

"Challenge accepted," Irmaplotz told him. "C'mon, Gar."

"With your track record?" Garfield posed as he followed her into the Corridor. "Not likely."

Once they'd disappeared, Peter gave the remainders a grin. "Soooooo…your team is now down one, and I'm now down an entire mission. Seems to me there's an obvious solution to both of these problems."

"Eh." Yzma shrugged. "Why not? You're fun."

"FORTHONWARD!" Zevon cried, leading the new team out of the reading room.

...

Meanwhile, Snatcher, Roman, Mim, and Aghoul were trying to compose a team of their own.

Since the recruitment drive, the mess hall that had once been saved for Talon grunts was now in frequent use as a banquet hall. Most of the underlings had assembled there for lunchtime in a manner almost reminiscent of school-day chatter, only without the constant fear of a bell cutting off one's time to eat. Outside this door, the aforementioned four made their plan.

"We'll need at least three more," Snatcher muttered. "This is no mean feat."

"The more, the merrier!" Aghoul agreed.

"The question is how to select our companions," Snatcher went on. "The ideal is to have a balance of magical prowess versus intellect versus nonmagical combat skill. Perhaps we've got to draw up a chart of our available pool, vet the neophytes, add weight to each column as needed, inspect our rotation to see who's already been on the rounds – "

"Archie, Archie." Roman lay a casual hand on his shoulder. "You go into overdrive for this shit way too often. One of these days, somebody's gotta pick up the grunt work for you so you can actually let your hair down a bit, and today, that somebody is me. I think I've got a pretty good idea of how to find our faction-mates."

"Oh?" Snatcher replied, intrigued. "And what sort of strategy is that?"

"Just trust me," Roman told him. "You trust me, right?"

"Of course I do, but – "

"Good." Roman turned to throw the mess hall doors open. "I got this."

He rushed into the hall, leaping up onto an occupied table in such a way that he kicked a plate of haggis up into Duff Killigan's face. Before Killigan could complain, Roman stretched out his arms, "ATTENTION PLEASE! ARCHIE, MIMSY, CORPSEY, AND I ARE ALL GONNA GO FUCK UP MALEFICENT! WHO WANTS IN?"

"OH! ME!" Discord stretched his claw up ceiling-high to wave it. "ME, ME, ME!"

"I WANT IN!" Scarlet Overkill yelled.

"MIM WAS GOING TO GO SOMEWHERE WITHOUT ME?" Rémington gasped.

"AAAAAND APPLICATIONS ARE NOW CLOSED!" Roman declared as he hopped off the table.

Snatcher, Aghoul, and Mim simply gaped at him. "There," Roman said as he passed them, giving Snatcher another shoulder-pat. "Got our three. Brains, brawn, and batshit. Now let's roll out."

...

In the enormous, jade-tinted throne room of the palace at Ba Sing Se, Earth King Kuei was seated on the immense golden throne, ready to face whatever problems came his way. He was resolute: no more secret wars. No more deception. No more invaders.

Earth King Kuei was not a perceptive man. Nor one with good precognition.

A servant clad in hues of green, her long, chestnut-colored hair pinned up in a bun in the style of the kingdom, led in a pair of figures – a man in purple, face white as foundation, and an animal to accompany him.

"Your Majesty," the servant said in a deep, seductive tone. "I have brought entertainers from the far reaches of the kingdom. They are known for their comedy."

"Entertainers!" Kuei gasped; of course! The man was made up as a jester, and the animal must have been a trained lion as part of his act! "Welcome to Ba Sing Se! I look forward to seeing your performance!"

So this was the man? Thin, reedy, bespectacled, excitable? The Joker could hardly believe it. "Why, yes!" he chuckled. "But not just skilled in comedy, you know. I also specialize in magic! Do you want to see a magic trick?"

"Do I ever!" Kuei gasped.

Scar rolled his eyes, hating that he had to be silent for the first act. The sooner he could open his mouth, the better. After all, he had a lot to criticize about this particular king-wannabe.

The Joker began by producing from within his coat a glass bottle filled with water and a coin. "For my first trick, I am going to place this coin at the bottom of this bottle of water without opening the lid or disturbing any of the water!" He advanced on Kuei. "I hope you don't mind that I have to get rather…close to perform this particular trick."

"I do not mind at all!" Kuei encouraged.

The Joker smirked as he approached Kuei, bottle and coin in hand. When he stood just before the king, he demanded, "Now, keep your eye on the coin!"

He contact-juggled it in one hand, sliding it between each of his fingers in turn, while raising the bottle high, letting it catch the light, showing how heavy it could be, how sharp if shattered –

Then used the hand clutching the bottle to undo the lid, dousing Kuei in a deluge of perfectly harmless water.

The Joker broke out into peals of raucous laughter, and after a moment to take in what had happened, Kuei began to chuckle as well. "That was a clever joke!" Kuei complimented. "Now I see why you are renowned for your comedy!"

"Oh…oh, but you don't understand the entirety of the punchline!" the Joker guffawed. "The bottle trick…you see…you were keeping your eye on the coin the whole time! That meant you didn't see! You didn't see the bottle, and you…and you…" He could barely get out the words. "YOU DEFINITELY DIDN'T SEE THE FOG MACHINE!"

Kuei's brow furrowed. "What is a fog machine?"

Now he looked past the Joker to see that the entry to the throne room had filled with a dense fog. Through that fog, a silhouette grew ever near: tall, robed, armored.

"EARTH KING KUEI!" Zurg's voice boomed out. "PREPARE TO HAVE YOUR KINGDOM INVADED!"

He stepped out from the fog, revealing his form, his bright violet armor and robes.

"Invaded?" Kuei stood immediately. "You tricked me! Guards! GUARDS!"

"Oh, the guards won't come," Scar stated slyly. Kuei leapt back, pressing against the back of the throne; was it more frightening that the lion had spoken, or what he had said? "You see, my associate got so caught up in the drama of the moment that he misspoke. More accurately…" He spread out his claws, clicking them on the tile. Blood dripped off them. He'd been using them recently. "You should be prepared to accept that your kingdom already has been invaded."

"IT'S NOT POSSIBLE!" Kuei screamed.

From the midst of the fog, a raspy voice: "I believe you will find many things possible you wish were not."

The man who emerged then was the most fearsome of the set. The others may have their tricks, their impossibilities, their villainous flair. But all this one had to do was show his face and Kuei was paralyzed.

"F…Fire Lord Ozai…" he stammered. "It…you…you're locked up!"

"Not anymore," Ozai said with a smirk.

"SEE?" Zurg interrupted. "See how much better that entrance was with the fog? You wouldn't have had HALF the effect – "

Ozai flicked an idle fireball in Zurg's direction; Zurg ducked it with a light shriek before muttering, "That doesn't change the fact that I'm right."

Ozai then tossed several scraps of green fabric out onto the floor of the throne room, smoldering at the edges, becoming gradually smaller. Kuei recognized those hues: the robes of his court, including anyone who could protect him.

"You…cut through all of the palace defenses…" Kuei sputtered.

"BARELY," Zurg huffed. "Whose idea was it to have the frontlines be just hurling huge rocks at people? It's annoying AND it lacks panache! The worst part is, it almost worked! Now I have to go home and face the grubs and the brain-bots and tell them that death rays and planetary bombs are only half as effective as THROWING GIANT ROCKS AROUND! It's like you're trying to undermine my reputation on purpose!"

"Never mind him!" Scar snapped. "The rocks were simple to surpass. As were all of your other paltry defenses! You call yourself a king? You're a lame wildebeest ripe for the scavenging!"

Kuei finally found his legs. Knowing talk would do no more good, he bolted, running for the nearest door. It wasn't far, he could make it, the arch beckoned, if he could just get beyond it –

He slammed into a wall of clear plastic wrap that he hadn't seen covering the arch, falling into it, becoming completely entangled like a spider in a web.

The Joker was beside himself now. "THAT WAS JUST AS HILARIOUS AS I THOUGHT IT WOULD BE!"

"YOUR MAJESTY!" the brunette servant cried, rushing toward Kuei. "Oh, your majesty, you've taken quite a spill!"

"Please no!" Kuei cried as he struggled. "Spare yourself!"

The brunette knelt before him. "Spare myself?" she repeated. Then an ominous chuckle: "But why would I want to spare myself a part in this delicious victory?"

A black tentacle, like that of an octopus, snaked out from beneath her skirt, lifting up Kuei's chin. The king watched in horror as she underwent her metamorphosis, increasing in size and deepening in color, four limbs becoming many more.

"Everywhere I go, it's always the same," Ursula sighed. "Men see a pretty face on a woman who knows how to speak the right body language, and slipping into even the most heavily-guarded palace is a cinch! Just enough time for me to set up a few of my friend's pranks in advance and cripple some of the defenses from the inside; nothing special!"

"You…monsters!" Kuei cried.

"Why, thank you," Ursula said slyly. "Now, let's get down to brass anchors. Surely you realize there are still a few very important lives we haven't taken."

Kuei's jaw dropped. "No…not her…"

"Precisely," Ursula confirmed. "Your precious, darling guppy of a daughter…as well as the bear. Lucky for you, I'm offering a one-time-only three-for-the-price-of-one deal." She unrolled a golden parchment before Kuei, glistening ink marking its terms in a deeper gold. "This magically binding contract promises your safety, your daughter's safety, and the safety of your precious pet bear in exchange for one simple little trifle."

"Anything!" Kuei cried. "I'll trade anything!"

"Good!" Ursula cried. "Then we can make this simple! What I want is…ownership of the Earth Kingdom."

"What?" Kuei gasped.

"Oh, invasion is such a good source of entertainment," Ursula told him, "but it would be much cleaner if we could take care of the messy work behind the scenes with a simple business transaction. Rather than deal with rabble-rousing once the koi-polloi realize what's going on, one official royal decree declaring your abdication and your naming of a worthy successor should calm the tides."

Kuei thought it over. There was only one choice he could make. "I'll do it," he relented. "I'll sign the kingdom over to you. Just…please…don't hurt my daughter. And don't hurt Bosco!"

"Very good." Ursula used her tentacles to rip apart the plastic wrap, then passed Kuei a quill pen. "Just sign here."

Kuei quickly scrawled his signature, which also glittered gold. Then the parchment was rolled up.

"And, as promised…" Ursula drew from thin air a round flask, which she smashed on the ground.

Kuei was immediately surrounded in a swirling magical wind that carried blue glitter on its wake. "YOU SAID I WOULD BE UNHARMED!" he cried. "YOU SAID I – " His speech trailed off, becoming garbled as his tongue adjusted, then finally a moan with no syllables to speak of.

"Oh, and I meant it," Ursula told him. "And you are unharmed! Just inhabiting a different body than you once had, but without so much as a scratch!"

The small brown worm, fixed to one place without any limbs with which to travel, looked up at Ursula with pleading eyes.

"I'll even give you a place of honor here in the throne room where you can watch the goings-on," Ursula told Kuei as she lifted him off the floor. Then, in a sharp bark: "OZAI! SCAR! FIND THE BRAT AND THE BEAR AND BRING THEM TO ME! After all, I've promised them the same degree of harmlessness. They can watch from the best seat in the house, too."

With a harrumph, Ozai turned and led Scar out of the room in a hunt for the young Hou-Ting and the bear known as Bosco, both of whom would shortly become similarly-shaped worms.

"Joker," Ursula commanded. "Duplicate our contract, then order it posted around the city to inform everyone of the new order."

"Oh, straightaway!" the Joker cried gleefully, taking the contract from Ursula's hands.

"And Zurg…" Ursula fired him a wink. "Do what you do best."

"We have conquered new territory!" Zurg proclaimed. "Which means we must do what every good villain does first thing upon acquiring a throne: REDECORATE!"

...

A/N: The content warning is for implied offscreen deaths, as well as "fates worse than death" for three very minor characters.

In terms of AU, The Lorax (yes, the 2012 film) is intercepted one year after the "flashback" portion ends, meaning the Once-ler has only been absent from Thneedville for a year. I'm simply not going to bother trying to make ends meet to make Legend of Korra or the ATLA comics canon to this fic, so expect big diversions. And while this is no AU, the four new cashiers who Terminus picked up are Olaf's theater troupe from Netflix ASOUE, though with fanon names I have given them. Though these fanon names are the same as you would see in other ASOUE works I have done, this fanfiction is in no way in the same universe as those works.