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.

118. The Loser of the Game

A/N: The Marvel property you're about to see in use is the 2008-2009 animated series Spectacular Spider-Man, which was my first exposure to a lot of the Spider-Rogues and my favorite incarnations of most of them. However, that doesn't mean I won't use my (limited) Marvel knowledge to allude to other events from Spidey media and comics. In fact, both of the scenes set in that world in this chapter are references to other Spider-Man media; can you recognize them? Finally, there are some content warnings for this chapter, but they're spoilers. If you think something might affect you, then proceed to the very end first.

...

The earthbender was sullen. It had been like this all day. First, having to wait to be served in the tea shop until the non-benders had gotten theirs. As though she weren't something ultimately more special than they could ever be. Then, she was certain the street vendor had given the non-benders a discount on their food that she hadn't received. Probably because he was a non-bender, and wanted to link up with his own kind, give them special handouts to make up for the fact that they didn't have the art.

But the straw that broke the camel's back was the monorail. It was run by benders. It had to be, in order to function. Surely, if the non-bender could throw a bone to his sort, her fellow earthbenders could allow her the best seat!

So she put up a fuss. She demanded to be seated up front; the non-benders could move on back, where they belonged. And this garnered her nothing but dirty looks – even from her own kind!

"Why do THEY deserve to sit there when they can't even earthbend?" she shrieked.

"Ma'am," one of the drivers said, "you're going to have to calm down and take an empty seat so the monorail can get moving. That, or we'll have to throw you off."

She gave a scream, then a stomp, then a resigned storm away to the seats in back, and the train car began to move.

As she sulked, arms folded, she heard a voice next to her whisper, "Unfair, isn't it?"

"Hm?" She turned to look at the passenger she was seated next to. He wasn't even looking at her, instead watching the scenery fly by out the window. He couldn't have spoken.

But then, he did, still looking out the window and yet very clearly addressing her: "It's folks like us who get the short end of the stick while the mundane take our due. Why must we take it lying down so often?"

"You're a bender?" she asked, louder than he'd spoken.

"Not so loud," he cautioned in a hushed tone. "Yes, and one of an ever-growing legion of the dissatisfied. It's a plague, you know. Those without our skill, they're handed everything on a silver platter free by society. We were born for greatness, the elements themselves infused in our veins. We should be the higher authority!"

"I couldn't agree more!" the woman whispered back. "But so many people nowadays think that's…bigoted."

"Do they?" the man smirked, tilting his face back so she could see the subtle expression. "After all, so many of the benders I've spoken to…they agree with me completely. …You haven't heard of the man who intends to gather the rally tomorrow, have you?"

"What man? What rally?"

"Quite hush-hush," the man stated. "Only for the committed. Not something you can go bandying about, you know."

"I won't tell a soul," the woman insisted.

"Very well." The man turned to face her fully, grinning with crooked teeth, fixing his almost-black blue eyes upon her. "At noon tomorrow, in the Middle Ring, there's to be a rally. A rather intelligent man has got some ideas about how things are to be done. The way he tells it…we've got to rise up against the very system that holds us down. It's the Earth King who allows it to be this way – or, rather, his new successor. Benderess, of course. Temptress as well, I hear – how do you think she climbed the ranks in the first place?" He slid the fingers of one hand into the sleeve of another, gently raking the skin to take care of an errant itch.
"I knew it," the woman hissed. "The minute I saw that notice, I figured her for a slut."

"And a strumpet she is," the man agreed. "If we should march on the palace, all together – "

"But that's suicide!"

"They simply can't stop us all," the man stated slyly. "Think of it. All the frustrated, deprived benders in Ba Sing Se, rising from the pits of discrimination and abject humiliation, marching as one? Why, we could cause a mutiny. A coup d'état. Off with her pretty little head."

"I like the sound of that." The woman smirked. "Who is this brilliant man?"

"Why, I hardly know him, but I can't help but respect him," her seat partner said. "They say his name is…" He lowered his voice to deliver it as dramatically as possible: "Archibald Snatcher."

The woman let out a sharp, loud laugh that drew the attention of most around her. The man blanched; that hadn't been in the plan.

"Sorry," the woman whispered. "It's just that he couldn't have picked a sillier code name."

"…Code name," the man replied. "Right. That's definitely what it is."

Though it wasn't, by any means. He would know, after all. He was Archibald Snatcher.

"But you'll be there?" he urged.

"Yes," the woman affirmed.

"And spread the word," Snatcher told her. "Bring all your most frustrated of friends. We'll need all hands on deck for this endeavor."

"I will."

The monorail stopped, and Snatcher observed the non-benders the woman had harassed disembarking the vehicle. "Ah," he said suddenly, "my stop! Pardon me, excuse me – "

After the awkward dance that ensues whenever the window-sitter has to get by the aisle-sitter in order to leave, Snatcher gave his new disciple a farewell glance and a grin, then strode away.

He'd managed to find quite a few benders – mostly earth, but some of water and fire – who thought themselves high-and-mighty and claimed to have associates who shared the notion. The rally due to be held by Archibald Snatcher was already shaping up to have great ranks.

But it was only half the job done. Riling up the entitled was one thing. This was where it was about to get interesting.

Snatcher focused on the woman's victims from earlier, trying not to make it obvious that he was stalking them. Casually itching at his neck, then his back. Finally, they reached their destination: a construction site.

From around the corner, Snatcher saw the whole ordeal. They were applicants for a job at this site – but the work was bender-only, apparently, even though that hadn't been in the original listing.

"But we're just as skilled as benders in our craftsmanship," one of the men argued.

"No dice," the foreman stated. "They'll get it done faster, and actually up to standards."

The men were dismissed. Snatcher waited until they'd passed his vantage point, then swept out to come up from behind them, gliding toward them as he muttered, "Quite the shame, isn't it? This kingdom's gone to the dogs for certain."

"Wha - !" One of the men turned to face Snatcher, quite surprised; the other followed suit without a word. "You saw?"

"The whole sordid affair," Snatcher said mournfully. "Such a tragedy. Hardworking folks like us have to claw and scramble to get anywhere in life, and how are we rewarded? By those with extranomal abilities getting grandfathered in to what we deserve. My own father always told me, 'Work hard, and you'll get what you deserve.' Well, he worked hard every day of his life, and what did he get for it? Second place to the bending-inclined."

"They think they can just get anything in this town," the other man grumbled.

"Because they can," the first sighed.

"And how unfair that the structure allows for this!" Snatcher went on. "Are we a meritocracy, or are we a society where you can simply bend your way into power?"

"Sometimes I wish they'd all just drop dead and let us normal people have a chance," the second man muttered.

"Don't say that!" the first hissed.

"Oh, but I agree," Snatcher whispered. "Now, asking them to drop dead might be a bit extreme, but you must admit they could do with a few restrictions to even the playing field, don't you think?"

"…Yeah," the first man realized. "Yeah, I can see that."

"And so," Snatcher said as he paused to use the side of his shoe to scratch at his ankle, nearly stumbling in the process, "the fault most certainly lies with the administration that allowed this. Did the Earth King not see the plight of his people? No, of course he didn't. He was too busy consorting with the GIFTED, now, wasn't he? Up 'till his very last day on the throne. And now we've got this…Earth Queen. You know what I've heard…she bought her way onto the throne. No merit, no political experience; just a lot of gold changing hands and an eager young man who wanted to retire and pursue his bizarre little hobbies."

"That makes more sense than anything!" the second man practically cried. "Why else would he just turn the throne over to some stranger?"

"Bribery, and that is that," Snatcher emphasized, reaching past his collar to scratch at his shoulder. "Though after tomorrow – oh, but I've gone and said too much already."

"What happens tomorrow?" the first man asked eagerly.

"Well…" Snatcher made a show of looking around. "You can keep a secret, can't you?" Without waiting for the others to answer, he launched right into it: "Mid-afternoon, in the Lower Ring, there's to be a rally. Non-benders across the city are to converge so we may march upon the palace and tell the Queen exactly what we think. Demand a change! And if she won't listen…well, we may have to resort to other methods of communication."

"You're not saying…" the second man asked in shock.

"We shall do what we must," Snatcher replied. "Sordid as it may be."

"The guards will kill us!" the first hissed.

"They simply, truly, utterly CANNOT stop us all," Snatcher told him.

"…You're right," the second man realized. "If enough of us show up…okay. I'm in."

"You'll see me there, too," the first added. "I'll decide there if it's worth it. Who's in charge, anyway?"

"Brilliant woman," Snatcher explained. "I've looked up to her my whole life. Always wanted to get up the nerve to express my own heart to her, if you understand my meaning. Quite a beauty, she is. They call her…Madame Frou Frou."

This went over a lot better than when he'd said his actual name, which was a little disheartening – but then again, he'd had the luxury of choosing Frou Frou's moniker. Of course it was better-sounding. "If you see her," the first man said, "tell her she's brave for finally taking a stand."

"Oh, she will know," Snatcher affirmed. "Oh, will you look at the time! Just realized I'm late to a very important get-together, old friends, you know, can't wait – I'll see you at the appointed place and time!"

Then he dashed down a side street, leaving his two newest converts to think it all over.

He did, in fact, have a get-together to attend. Raking a quick scratch across his lower back, he darted to one of the less assuming doors in the alley. He'd call it a fine coincidence that he'd ended up here, but he knew quite well that Mim and Discord were warping the space around to follow him. Once he'd located the familiar portal, he rapped a "Shave and a Haircut" rhythm upon it.

He received, in response, a single knock and no more.

Pushing the door open, he muttered, "I thought I'd told you not to do that. Which one of you did it, anyhow?"
Mim and Discord pointed directly to one another, both standing just beyond the door; conceivably, either of them could have triggered the anticlimax.

The safehouse was simple in design, with gray stone walls, just enough furniture and food to get by comfortably for a couple of days, and a large high-definition television provided by Discord. Crowded on the couch in front of it were Roman, Rémington, Aghoul, and Scarlet, sharing a bowl of olive-oiled popcorn.

The television now depicted the street outside the safehouse. It was obvious what it had been tracking. "Hey!" Roman waved Snatcher over. "You just missed the best damn show on TV these days. Charming leading man."

"More's the pity," Snatcher said as he strode toward the couch. "But we've already got a sizeable turnout in place for both events. The whole city, working in unison, and they won't even realize or be happy about it."

"And they all hate Ursula to death!" Aghoul snickered. "I'd be surprised if they didn't launch early!"

"They'd better not," Snatcher grunted. "This scheme shall require the utmost coordination."

"In the meantime," Discord chuckled, "watching you pick up the converts is simply hilarious! They have NO IDEA you're playing the hypocrite! I do love a good dramatic irony." He slithered toward the popcorn bowl, reached in, pulled out a handful, crunched it in his fist, opened said fist to reveal a cupcake, then downed it in one swallow.

"And with a little extra draconequus-power," Snatcher told him, "we'll be able to ensure this revolution goes off with nary a hitch."

"And the whole damn populace will be on our side," Roman stated. "Strength in numbers. You are a genius."

"Oh, do tell me something I'm not aware of, Torchwick." Snatcher leaned over the back of the couch, draping his arms lazily over it.

"Well, you might wanna get that itching checked out," Scarlet broke in. "If we're talking about things you're not aware of."

"Oh, he's certainly aware of it," Mim huffed. "Just in denial, as ever."

"Itching - ?" Snatcher repeated. "Whatever do you mean?"

"You've been scratching every five minutes," Rémington said casually, spraying popcorn bits out of his full mouth over the carpet. "It keeps getting worse the longer you go."

"I certainly hadn't noticed," Snatcher said. Or maybe he had. He pondered it; had he just shoved it aside as something not to be worried about? With a sigh; "If I've somehow come into contact with some deviously hidden dairy substance…"

"Nah, we'll just fix this now." Roman passed the bowl off to Aghoul. "Hey, Patchwork. Calamine me."

Discord dropped a clay bottle into Roman's hands from above.

"I thought you couldn't heal," Scarlet told him.

"I can't," Discord told her. "That was from the general store down the block. I stole out and picked it up after it dwindled to ten-minute intervals between itches."

"You've been TRACKING," Snatcher groaned. "MUST you? It isn't the focal point of this exercise, you know!"

"Eh, they can stuff it." Roman wrenched himself up off the couch. "Me, though, I think I'm gonna press the issue, if you know what I'm saying."

"I don't – " It clicked, and Snatcher grinned. "Ah, I see. Playing the medic behind closed doors. A wonderful opening act. Classic for a reason."

Rémington winced. "Please don't put any images into my head that I don't want there."

"Also, we still have a job to do," Scarlet reminded both of them.

"Yeah, yeah," Roman said, rolling his eyes. "We'll make this quick."

"Or perhaps we won't," Snatcher said slyly, and the pair disappeared into the back room.

Scarlet sighed. "Guess I can't throw stones. Glass houses. I mean, pretty much all actually functional married couples – "

Aghoul nearly choked laughing on his popcorn. "Oh, DON'T let them know you called them THAT!"

"You know," Rémington realized, "sometimes I forget they aren't."

"They're sensible," Mim stated, arms folded. "They know that marriage is a farce."

"I'm going to ignore that you just called my relationship with Herb a farce," Scarlet groaned, "and just move on. What else is on?"

"Weeeellll…" Discord snapped his fingers, changing the channel to a bird's-eye view of the palace's throne room. "Until they figure out they need to scry-proof the palace, we can always watch a round of…"

Bright lights flashed from all corners; Discord was now dressed up in a glittering rainbow-colored suit; "WHAT'S! MY! EVIL! SCHEME!"

"DISCORD!" Everyone else present yelled.

The light show was gone; Discord slumped onto the couch. "I thought we LIKED flamboyance in this legion."

"Shhhh!" Scarlet hissed. "They're talking! I can't hear!"

Ursula, Zurg, Scar, Ozai, and the Joker stood in an equidistant circle. "So," Ursula was saying, "when should we go for Wan Shi Tong's library?"

"What now?" Rémington commented.

Aghoul's jaw dropped. "Well…there's a name I haven't heard in a LONG time."

"What is it, Ghoulie?" Mim asked.

Aghoul grinned. "This is about to get interesting. I'm starting to think they were never here for the coup after all!"

The door was shut on the back bedroom; Roman gestured to the mattress. "Have a seat," he urged. "Take off your coat, while you're at it. Make yourself…comfortable."

"One might think you had ulterior motives beyond playing the nurse," Snatcher teased, tossing his long red coat to the side and settling on the mattress. The hat followed.

Roman crawled up to kneel behind him, uncapping the calamine lotion bottle. "Who, me? This is just a nice, chaste healing session that isn't about to head anywhere dirty."

"Hm. Almost disappointing to hear."

"We-he-hell, in that case, maybe we can work something out. Now, let's see what we're working with. Shirt off."

Snatcher took his time with peeling away his vest and flinging it on top of the coat, just because he knew it would test Roman's patience. He then took a bit of pity on the other man, making the removal of his shirt as quick as possible.

What he didn't expect was to hear the soft thud of the bottle hitting the mattress, and Roman, hissing through his teeth, "Fuck – "

"Impatient, are we?" Snatcher teased.

Roman's tone came back altogether too serious. "Archie. Look. At. Yourself. NOW."

"What do you – "

He glanced downward, to his chest, his stomach, and then he saw it. When he did, he could feel bile building in the back of his throat.

For one, most of his body was green. A deep, swampish color that was in no way anything healthy. For another, his skin had taken on an altogether different texture. With a tentative, still-pale hand, he reached for a patch on his chest that had completely crusted over with what he hoped wasn't –

But as he slid a finger between them, he knew. Scales. He was turning up patches of scales, as one might see on a lizard or a fish.

And as that finger traced the edges, it hit a moistness. Horror settled into him as he thought, at first, he'd somehow punctured his own skin – it looked as though it were rotting anyway; was he simply decaying? But what came out wasn't blood. It was thicker and altogether too green – a more virulent shade than his skin was turning. And now that his attention was on it, he could see other fountains of it bubbling up beneath the scaly patches.

"Torchwick – " he gasped. "What's happening to me?"

"I – " Roman sputtered. "I – I – I – "

Then the redhead had leapt off the bed. "Get answers," he eked out. "NOW."

But Snatcher was unable to move. He sat there, on the bed, practically paralyzed, hypnotized by his transformation. Terror coursed through him; was this his death? Was it irreversible? And if he was so repulsed by his own complexion, seeing it up close, then had Roman –

He didn't have time to dwell on it. The others burst into the room all at once. And Snatcher couldn't help but notice that Roman was positioned at the very back of them, half-turned-away from looking directly.

"OH my – " Scarlet's hands flew to her mouth. "What…IS that?"

When Mim broke out in screams of laughter, the others were clued in; she knew something. "What?" Rémington urged. "You know?"

"Oh, it's WONDERFUL!" Mim crowed. "He must've crossed – he must've offended – oh, the delicious IRONY!"

"SPIT IT OUT AT ONCE!" Snatcher roared at her. "WHAT'S COME OVER ME?"

"Oh, dear!" Discord said in absolutely faux shock. "This looks exactly like the mutagen that altered Gill Moss into his current state! Why, that CERTAINLY can't be what's happening to you – not unless he specifically poisoned you with his mucus with this fate in mind!" The expression of false awe melted into a smirk. "You didn't happen to make him ANGRY, did you?"

All at once, it came flooding back. The spit of the gluey green substance into Snatcher's face. Gill's taunting words: "Wait for it."

"THIS IS WHAT HE'D HAVE ME WAIT FOR?" Snatcher rose angrily. "TRANSFORMING ME INTO ONE OF HIS FOUL, DISGUSTING SUBHUMAN SORT, IS IT? IS THAT HIS GAME?"

Mim had now collapsed against the wall laughing, and her joy had reached and infected Aghoul, who gave a few coughs to disguise it before simply falling stomach-first to the floor and pounding the carpet with his fist. "I CAN'T BELIEVE IT!" he guffawed. "OF ALL THE PEOPLE! WHY DIDN'T I THINK OF IT MYSELF?"

"So what happens now?" Scarlet asked in a panic. "Does he…" She swallowed hard.

"Oh, he'll be fine," Discord informed her. "If slightly…greener around the gills. Check your neck, by the way. They'll be coming in at any moment."

Snatcher's hands flew to the sides of his neck. No, not yet, but he did feel several prominent ridges, ready to burst open. "No," he said in horror. "No, no, no – you've got to reverse it."

"Sorry." Discord shrugged. "No can do. That would be healing."

"MADAM MIM!" Snatcher cried in desperation. "USE YOUR 'ZIM ZABBERIM ZIM' AND REVERSE THIS IMMEDIATELY!"

"Oh, no!" Mim chortled. "I can't! Nothing I can do about this one! It's in the rules!"

"Rules – " Snatcher's brow furrowed. "Is it that you CAN'T help me, or that you WON'T?"

"Oh, Archie," Aghoul snickered, "you have to admit you really had this coming. I wouldn't want to help you, either. Not after being used as your token 'I'm not monsterist' undead friend."

"So…I'm to turn into…one of…" Snatcher swallowed hard. Then realized the very texture of his bile was different. Stickier. More substantial. It was getting worse by the moment. He braced his hands on the mattress so as to not completely collapse. "This can't be happening. No, no, no, it can't, I've scheduled two public appearances, the show's GOT to go on, I can't – I can't be such an ABOMINATION!"

"Sorry!" Mim chirped. "Against the rules! …Or maybe I'm just saying that because you DID have it coming. Oh, I never knew justice could actually be so evil!"

"…Okay," Scarlet attempted, "let's not panic. This is fine. We can work a way around this. They have bending on this world, so maybe they have a way to work with mutations, too. I mean, if nothing else, we can just go back home to Vexen and – "

"And spoil the fun?" Discord posed.

"Yes," Snatcher realized. "Home. Back to base. Take me there NOW; I DEMAND IT!" He would have stood to emphasize his point, but he was feeling quite dizzy.

"Ohhh, what's the matter?" Mim taunted. "Giving up already? Not enough of a MAN to finish the mission you started?"

"I thought you were the great and hardworking Archibald Snatcher," Discord added. "Not a coward."

Well, now Snatcher was between a rock and a hard place. "If I return," he realized, "I'll be a laughingstock. They'll all know I failed because of – because I – " He was almost hyperventilating. "No, no, you're right, we can't go back – "

"WE HAVE TO," Scarlet insisted, stomping toward Mim.

"MAKE ME!" Mim countered. "There are three people here who can be a ride home, and none of them wants to do anything about this!"

"I'm calling Mozenrath," Scarlet grunted, punching at her scroll. Of course, since Mozenrath's own scroll was in pieces in front of the GothCorp door, she hit his voicemail. "Wha – MOZENRATH! THIS IS SCARLET OVERKILL! CALL ME BACK AS SOON AS YOU GET THIS! I MEAN IT, IF I DON'T HEAR FROM YOU IN THE NEXT FIVE MINUTES, YOU'RE GOING TO SEE A SIDE OF ME THAT EVEN YOU'LL BE AFRAID OF!" She hung up with one very decisive jab of her finger.

"Mrs. Overkill," Snatcher pleaded. "Please leave it at that. Don't call another. I can't have anyone else see…not without at least a victory beneath my belt."

"Yeah, but it's our victory," Rémington reminded him. "Not just yours. We could do this without you, you know."

"WHICH ONE OF US JUST SPENT SEVERAL BACK-BREAKING HOURS CAJOLING THE POPULACE INTO A REVOLUTION, BETWEEN YOU AND I?" Snatcher roared at him. "THIS IS NOT…YOUR…VICTORY!"

"New tack, then," Scarlet decided. "This isn't fatal. You're just going to look weird. And we've already been running all over town with Discord. Maybe this won't really change anything! We can do the mission like we planned!"

"No, no, no," Snatcher replied. "They can't see me like this. I've got to direct from the shadows – but I've already set the stage for both rallies – but if they see not one but TWO people who are GREEN and bear GILLS, they'll catch on immediately!"

"Oh, I'd think that would be the least of your problems," Mim chuckled. "See, no one's noticed Discord because he hasn't WANTED to be noticed."

"What was that?" a patch of empty air asked before Discord materialized out of it like a chameleon becoming visible, grinning madly.

"You, on the other hand," Mim told Snatcher, "will probably end up on a fish fry."

"FISH FRY!" Aghoul howled. "That's a good one! Oh, if these ducts could still produce tears!"

And there was one person who hadn't said a word through it all. Still looking askance. "Torchwick," Snatcher pleaded. "You…you've got to help me, I can't do this – "

"I gotta go get some air," Roman said curtly before turning to leave.

Now Snatcher found the strength to stand, hurtling toward the door, the others parting to let him make way. "NO! Torchwick – you – I – you've got to HELP me! I've all but come to RELY on you, you understand? You and I, our heads together are better than mine alone!" No, it wasn't the L-word, but it was a grand confession indeed. "If you've nothing to solve the problem, then at least just…just say that – "

His fingers closed around Roman's forearm, and he could already see the webbing growing between them.

"NO!" Roman shrieked, twisting hard to break his grip. The look in Roman's eyes was that of a prey animal trying to reason with its predator. After a few deliberate gasps, Roman said softly, "I don't…have anything I can do. I don't know how. Just…leave me alone, okay? I gotta think. Maybe I'll…come up with something if…"

His eyes shifted to where Snatcher had touched his sleeve. A small patch of green mucus. Then back to Snatcher, and there wasn't just fear in those emerald greens now.

Disgust. He was looking at Snatcher with a heretofore unseen disgust.

People had been giving Snatcher that look all his life. He'd thought he knew how badly it could hurt. As it turned out, he hadn't known the half of it.

"Don't come after me," Roman said, almost a desperate plea, before turning and practically running out of the house.

"I'm going after him," Scarlet resolved, cracking her knuckles. "That was INCREDIBLY out of line."

But Snatcher put out an arm – an arm that was now giving birth to a fin along its side – to stall her. "No," he said, a low growl of defeat and resentment. "Let him run. After all…I wouldn't very much like to look at me, either."

"But HIM?" Scarlet asked. "What if it was happening to HIM?"

Snatcher's voice was barely audible: "Not anymore."

"Hm, as to be expected," Discord sighed.

"And what's that supposed to mean?" Scarlet asked him, hands on hips.

"Well, you know how this goes, don't you?" Discord retorted. "When two villains meet and love each other very much…eventually it turns out that one of them was just using the other for his own gain, and the pendant he gave you in a moment of confidence was actually a symbol of how WORTHLESS he thought you were!"

"I'm sensing your own issues are coloring this situation," Rémington said dryly.

"No!" Aghoul stamped a foot. "You don't take this lying down! If a wife runs out, you don't just let her leave! You call the hellhounds to pick up her scent and bring her back! And if your lover has decided you aren't the favorite anymore…" He smirked. "You do something to fix it."

"Now YOU'RE just talking about your own issues," Scarlet told him. "Mim, talk to him."

"About what?" Mim asked, obviously playing dumb. "And why should I, when our dear friend Archibald is having a crisis?"

"I…I've got to lie down," Snatcher muttered, making his way to the couch in the living room.

"Here – " Scarlet attempted to reach for him.

"NO!" Snatcher rounded on them, baring teeth that suddenly seemed all that much more pointed. "None of you touch me! Do…I make…myself…CLEAR?"

He feared, on that last word, that his rage had overtaken him so much that he'd burst a blood vessel in his neck. But no, that sensation was just his gills cracking open on the left side.

"…Fine," Scarlet said meekly. "But we're going to have to talk about – "

"Later." Snatcher was back to making way for the couch. "Go out, do whatever you please. Robbery, arson, public indecency, what have you. But leave me alone."

When he reached the couch, he practically fell onto it lengthways, and the others knew he wasn't to be bothered.

...

The world that played host to Gotham wasn't the only one with several offshoots. Of course, Loki's Asgard was connected to a dimension that found itself replicated several times over. And in one of the versions of this world, pandemonium was breaking loose.

The word "pandemonium" is here used as shorthand for "the population of an entire supervillain prison."

The island complex had been built to stow away New York's craftiest, toughest, and most inexplicable. Those that couldn't be held by ordinary walls. And some who could, but by this point were such public nuisances that no one wanted to take the chance.

For a month, it had held firm.

But tonight, it was glowing with the sparks of rebellion. News crews had reported a mass jailbreak, unable to locate the source. All that was known was a sudden failure in the containment measures used to hold back those who had augmentations. And after that…

Well, that was why Peter Parker, though better known as Spider-Man in his current getup, was headed toward the prison, stowed on the side of a police helicopter.

"Harry getting over his dad, Gwen not knowing what she wants, May's health getting worse…" Spider-Man mused. "My life's rough enough. All I wanted was a break. What I got was a jailbreak. I know I could leave this to the authorities…but these are my enemies. The ones I helped lock up here. If I don't take responsibility to make sure they don't get into the city…I just couldn't live with that."

The closer the helicopter got to the island, the more Spider-Man could see the damage already done. It appeared the power had been blown out on the whole island; it should've been more brightly lit than that. As it were, he was approaching under the cover of nightfall and hating every second of it, as he approached what appeared to be a fortress of shadows.

But every now and then, lightning cut through the dark, and Spider-Man's heart dropped a mile when he realized there was no storm in sight. "No," he muttered. "Max? Please tell me you're not – "

The instant he began to say such a sentiment, the lightning struck the copter that was carrying him, causing it to spin out of control.

It was over island grounds. Spider-Man quickly formed a net of webbing from his wrists, desperately pleading to win the race against time as he stitched the helicopter to the nearby towers –

Boom.

When he got his bearings, he stood beside the downed copter. Heart racing, Spider-Man pried open the door, taking the pulse of the pilot and passenger. Both alive; just unconscious.

For the best, Spider-Man thought. Because the person who'd shot the copter down didn't want anyone bothering him. Hopefully the other copters had taken that message to heart. Any ordinary person would likely be grievously harmed here. Spider-Man didn't want to think this particular assailant could kill, if it came down to the wire…but he also knew underestimating him was dangerous.

This was his mission. He had to go it alone.

"But how am I supposed to secure an entire prison?" he muttered. "…One perp at a time, I guess."

So he began to make his way into the building, on floor one. And there, radiating an almost blinding light, was the person responsible for his crash landing. A young man, clad in a deep-green containment suit that mostly kept the electric energy coursing through his body from exploding out of control, though he had his mask removed, revealing his face – and the sheer amount of light that shone from it, making him seem more lightning than human.

"It's about time," he grunted.

"Max!" Spider-Man cried.

"That's not MY NAME ANYMORE!" With this, the glowing man let out a surge; bolts of lightning crackled through the entire floor, illuminating the shadowy space. "I…AM…ELECTRO!"

It wasn't random, Spider-Man realized. Those bolts were aimed at the locks above the doors on this floor. Doors that were now sliding open, letting loose a mob of people who all had very good reasons to want Spider-Man dead.

"WHY ARE YOU DOING THIS?" Spider-Man yelled to Electro.

"You wanna find out?" Electro retorted. "Then survive the chase."

With that, he burst away, rocketing like a comet from trails of lightning. And leaving in his wake the growing mob of thugs, who were picking up any weapon they could find: crowbars, planks, knives –

But why were any of those things out in the open anyway? "Something's wrong," Spider-Man muttered.

He didn't have long to contemplate it. His instincts clued him in to an incoming blast; he leapt, flinging a sticky strand to the ceiling and using it to propel himself upward. That way, he passed right over the sonic wave that erupted beneath him.

"Wait a minute," he muttered. "No way. That's not possible. Why would he – "

An all-too-familiar Southern drawl worked its way up to him from below; "Good start, fellas. Now, if we wanna squash the bug good this time, y'all gotta stay in formation."

"SHOCKER?" Spider-Man could see him easily now. In the lemon-yellow suit that kept his own weapon from reverberating on him, how could anyone miss him? But the fact that he had it, or his weapon – a pair of metal wristlets that emanated shockwaves at will – at all was even more of a clue that something wasn't right.

Something less right than there being a jailbreak in the first place, anyway.

"Good to see ya too, bug," Shocker told him, aiming a wristlet up toward him. "All goes well, maybe I'll take home the honor of havin' stepped on you tonight."

"Whoa, hey!" Spider-Man quickly dodged another sonic boom. "No one's supposed to know about my secret list of people I want to step on me, but you are DEFINITELY not on it!"

"Wha – I DIDN'T MEAN IT LIKE THAT!" Shocker growled, letting off twin blasts.

Spider-Man hit the floor in order to evade them, but that left him the mob that was apparently following Shocker's orders. Were the other Enforcers here, too? Spider-Man couldn't tell; a veritable sea of people was rushing him.

Only one way to deal with that: head-on.

It seemed to take an eternity: knocking them out, webbing them to the wall, disarming them. And always on high alert, trusting his Spider-Sense to let him know when another sonic boom was ready to flow. Until it suddenly occurred to him that it wasn't so important where Shocker was firing as where he wasn't.

"Wait," he realized as he blocked the punch of another inmate. "He's trying to get to me without hurting any of his minions and losing loyalty." Speaking up, he told the inmate, "Sorry, buddy. Nothing personal here."

Then he stuck a strand of webbing to the other man, using it as a pivot point to switch their positions. From there, Spider-Man focused not on incapacitating any of the others, but evading their blows, slipping through the crowd.

Shocker held his fire; one wrong blast and he'd lose the support of the common people. "NOW YOU HOLD IT RIGHT THERE, BUG!" he yelled. "DON'T LET HIM GET OUTTA HERE IN ONE PIECE!"

But Spider-Man was already in one piece and making an exit. He'd have to come back and figure out how to deal with that mob later. At least Electro's rampage had lit enough debris on fire that he could see his way around. He rappelled up to a higher floor, made for a set of enormous steel doors –

And was informed by his Spider-Sense to get out of their frame NOW.

He fell to the side as an immense chunk of metal burst through the doors; had he remained in place or attempted to open the passage, he would have become paste on the side of the projectile. He wasn't given much time to wonder which of his foes was capable of hurling such an object before he got his answer; "Ay, Spider-Man!"

If not for the subtle malice on the man's face – the only part of him that looked even human anymore – Spider-Man would have thought Rhino was legitimately glad to see him. As it were, though, the little wave he gave in greeting came off as a warning, cheeky as it seemed. Rhino was not one to be trifled with, after all – augmented to several times the strength of an ordinary human and with even more durability than that thanks to the exoskeleton of plating that surrounded him, acting as a second skin: a rhinoceros' skin.

"You're just in time for the surprise party!" Rhino informed him.

"Surprise party?" Spider-Man called back, flipping onto his feet. "What surprise party? My birthday isn't for another month!"

"Leave him." Electro descended beside Rhino. "He has other sights to see on his tour."

"Tour?" Rhino repeated. "I thought this was a jailbreak – "

"JUST GO, RHINO."

"Uh…okay."

The two villains parted ways; Spider-Man chased the brighter of the two. Maybe because Electro was easier to see in the dark. Maybe because it was easier to picture the face of the man who'd been Max Dillon and hope he still had a heart than it was to do for lifetime ne'er-do-well Alex O'Hirn.

Was the island shaking now? Spider-Man didn't like that. "Max," he muttered, "what did you do?" He swung over another broken room, coming to rest on a railing where he could observe Shocker's mob running about directionlessly.

"HE'S GOTTA BE 'ROUND THESE PARTS SOMEWHERE!" Shocker was yelling at their head. "CAN'T'VE GONE FAR!" He then proceeded to use his wristlets to blast right through a heavy door that certainly didn't lead to Spider-Man.

"What is going on?" Spider-Man muttered. "Rhino expected to see me, Electro was able to knock out the whole power grid all of a sudden, and Shocker has all his equipment? Somebody set this up. But who? And why would – "

He realized, too late, that he hadn't been paying attention to the sense. And all at once, he was slammed with the force of what felt like a giant rock, flung to the floor of his balcony. Before he could get his bearings, he was scooped up in an immense hand with stone-hard fingers.

"Oh, great," he grunted. "Should've known you'd turn up. Where there's a Rhino…there's a Sandman."

He was clutched in the grip of a hand forged entirely of fine grains of sand. That hand tapered down into a body of human proportions and colors, though that was mostly a façade to keep its owner feeling like he fit in; it was sand all the way through, controlled by a consciousness linked to a single grain.

"Hey, you're gettin' good at this game," Sandman remarked. Even before his mutation, he'd been an impressive foe: extensive criminal record, solid physique, penchant for a green-striped shirt that Spider-Man had never really understood the appeal of. "O'Hirn tell you about the party already?"

"Why are you DOING this?" Spider-Man cried as he struggled. "You stopped the tanker from exploding! I thought you were DONE with this kind of stuff!"

"Aw, c'mon!" Sandman groaned. "Look, maybe I ain't okay with boatloads of innocents dyin' on me, but ya gotta remember, crime's my thing! You think there's only one way to be the bad guy? Nah, now that I'm on the loose again, I'm about to hit pay dirt! …Wait." He turned his head to the side. "Hang on. There was a way to make that into a sand joke, but I don't got it right now. We're puttin' it on hold." Back to Spider-Man. "Anyway, thanks to the boss, I've been promised my big score times a THOUSAND."

"Great," Spider-Man groaned. "The ONE bad guy I thought I could trust NOT to be the bad guy today, and he's still the bad guy. …Wait. Boss? The guy who set this up?"

"Wha – " Sandman flinched. "You didn't need to hear that this early! Forget it! There ain't no boss!"

"But you JUST SAID – "

"So how 'bout that Electro, huh? Was scared to play host at first, but the rest of us talked him into it. Gotta say, he wears it well. Don't think I ever noticed how BRIGHT he was before this."

"Stop changing the subject," Spider-Man urged, still struggling. "You said – wait. The rest? How many more – "

Before Sandman could get any further flustered at his blabbermouth, a nearby gas pipe exploded.

Spider-Man was thrown over the railing, suit torn and skin scraped but otherwise with no harm done. As he pried his head up to look at where Sandman had been restraining him, all he saw was a trickle of sand pouring into the room on the opposite side of the balcony, accompanied by a yell of "Hey, watch the blast next time! Ya almost glassed me there!"

"Okay," Spider-Man muttered. "Shocker, Rhino, Sandman…and Electro makes four. Speaking of Max…where is he, anyway?"

It should've been his clue: the floor was emptied out of Shocker's temporary goons. This time, he paid attention to his instincts and heeded their warnings. When he felt the twinge, he evaded, avoiding being fried by a massive surge of lightning.

Electro appeared before him, looking for all the world like a member of the malakim descended to bring Spider-Man news that all was about to end. "Giving up now?" he growled. "Pathetic."

Then he was out a gap in the wall, ricocheting between the scouting towers.

"Oh, come ON!" Spider-Man yelled, flinging a web strand and giving chase. "MAX – "

"NOT MY NAME!" the call came from ahead.

"OKAY, FINE!" Spider-Man yelled back. "ELECTRO! WHO ORGANIZED THIS? WHO ARE YOU WORKING FOR?"

"WHY WOULD I TELL YOU? ALL YOU WANT TO DO IS HOLD ME BACK! LOCK UP THE MONSTER, AM I RIGHT?"

Spider-Man felt a twitch in his heart. If he had just helped Max instead of fighting him when it first happened –

Faster and faster Electro went, almost like a bolt of lightning himself, but where he intended to strike, Spider-Man couldn't even guess. He chased through violent red explosions, collapsing towers, and shattering glass panes.

Then, all at once, he'd caught him; inside the entry to another part of the bastion, kicking him down by the chest. "You don't have to do this," Spider-Man told him. "We can get you help. I know I haven't – "

"Help?" Electro repeated, glaring up at Spider-Man with neon blues. "HELP?" His scowl turned into a malicious grin. "Only one thing can help me now, Spider-Man. And it's not playing by the RULES!"

He flipped, overturning Spider-Man before rocketing upward; Spider-Man now saw they were at the base of a great cylindrical tower – or they had been; Electro was climbing higher by the second. "GET BACK HERE!" Spider-Man yelled, beginning to follow.

"You know," Electro called back down to him, "there was a time I might've taken you up on it!" He sent down a burst of lightning; Spider-Man deftly dodged it. "A time I just wanted to be NORMAL!" Another blast. "And there's a part of me that still hates this. How much of my life I CAN'T LIVE ANYMORE!" The biggest blast of them all. "But you know what saved me, in the end? Learning just what my new power would let me do…AND FINALLY TAKING THE OPPORTUNITY TO DO IT! I'm more free now than I've ever been in my life! Max Dillon is dead, but ELECTRO IS ALIVE!"

"But you never – " No. He had to be careful. Couldn't let Electro know he'd known him, once. "Were you seriously the kind of guy who wanted to do CRIME? Even shoplift candy bars?"

"We all wanna do bad things, Spider-Man!" Electro yelled down, sending another surge at him. "The number of times I wished there was an easy way out of scraping by on a handyman's salary and hoping to get enough for tuition so I could finally get the degree everyone needs in order to matter in this world. And now…it hasn't been easy, but it's been my way out! Finally, I don't need to say no to what I want anymore! I don't need some piece of paper signed by a dean to tell me who I am! IT'S WRITTEN INTO MY GENETICS, FOREVER!"

On that, he rocketed up at his greatest speed yet. Spider-Man kept climbing, hoping Electro hadn't gotten away from him for good.

(Though it seemed in one respect, he had.)

Finally, up out of the tower. Finally, onto a rooftop beneath the darkened skies. Electro waited, back turned to Spider-Man.

"It's funny," Electro grunted as Spider-Man neared. "They knew if it was me, you'd take the bait."

"What?"

And then Rhino was there, charging him full stop. With Shocker positioning behind, ready to lay down cover fire.

The solution seemed obvious at first; Spider-Man stuck Shocker to a strand of webbing, flinging him into Rhino to send both bowling off course. However, this soon gave way to him leaping to clear the incoming blow from a rock-hard fist of congealed sand.

"It was me!" Sandman said triumphantly. "I'm the one figured out you'd go chasin' after Electro! Look, even I feel bad for the guy. Like, real bad. So a big ol' softie like you? Hook, line, and sinker!"

"So that's your game!" Spider-Man skidded to a halt on the roof, where the four – Rhino, Sandman, Shocker, Electro – surrounded him. "Get me chasing Electro and I play right into your hands! …Oh, I see what's going on! Four down; where are the other two? Sinister Six, right? Come on, your pals didn't leave you empty-handed, did they? That's what Sandman meant by 'All of us,' right?"

The arrival of a metal claw clamping down onto the side of the roof to signal its owner's ascent answered half the question. The short, rotund, and raven-haired scientist strapped to the quartet of writhing metal arms rose onto the roof, propelled by said arms' grappling claws, until he landed calmly on his feet before Spider-Man. "Quite astute," Dr. Octopus stated. "Only what I would expect from you."

"Why do you have your arms back?" Spider-Man cried. "Who arranged that one? No way anybody snuck those in here baked into a cake!"

"Getting ahead of ourselves, aren't we?" Octopus chuckled. "After all, you still see only five."

A new voice boomed all around the rooftop; "AND WE'D SAVED THE BEST FOR LAST!"

"Ohhhhhhhh, no," Spider-Man groaned as the roof began to fill with eerie green fog. "Not who I was hoping you picked to finish this outfit. Seriously, Vulture would've been way less annoying."

"ANNOYING?" A silhouette strode out of the fog. "YOU THINK THE GREAT MYSTERIO ANNOYING?" Now the villain was in full view, throwing out an arm coated by his lime-green bodysuit to fling his violet cape and let it billow in the wind as the moon (or probably just a well-placed spotlight) glinted off his spherical glass helmet. "Truly, your palate lacks taste for the fine arts!"

"Let's just get this over with," Electro growled, advancing. "We have a test to pass."

"Never liked tests," Sandman groaned.

"Never passed one before," Rhino added.

"And this doesn't surprise me why?" Spider-Man sighed.

At the same time, Mysterio had begun, "Oh, that HARDLY surp – YOU ARE NOT ALLOWED TO PRE-EMPTIVELY DELIVER MY BANTER, SPIDER-MAN! FOR THAT, YOU WILL PAY WITH YOUR LIFE!"

"Whoa, whoa!" Sandman put out both hands. "The boss-man said 'incapacitate,' remember? That don't mean 'kill.' And I got a few good reasons why this one's better off alive."

"Your sentimental heart?" Octopus asked, raising a brow over his opaque goggles.

"Don't," Electro warned.

"Fightin' each other at this stage'll do us more harm than good," Shocker reminded the group. "Don't gotta kill the bug if Sandman don't want. But we do gotta put him down for the count if we want the boss to let us sign the contract."

"I have NO IDEA who your boss is," Spider-Man groaned, "and I already hate him."

Then began the onslaught.

First, a shockwave; Spider-Man leaned just out of its way only to find Rhino's fist heading toward him. He caught the punch in both hands, only for Sandman to sideswipe him across the rooftop. A horde of metal bats that Spider-Man knew belonged to Mysterio descended from above; as the hero dispatched them with a single kick, he then roped his webbing to a nearby scaffold, swung a 360 around it, and slammed Rhino back with his whole body only to finally be caught in one of Shocker's sonic waves.

And from there, it was all over.

Sandman's hard fist came slamming down. Then Rhino's foot, kicking, leaving a mud smear and a bone that felt fractured. Then Octopus' raking claws. Then Mysterio simply stamping on Spider-Man's stomach several times in a row. Then, as a final blow, Electro unleashing the biggest blast yet with a cry of "Don't you get it? MAX…IS…DEAD!"

With far too many volts coursing through his veins, Spider-Man convulsed, curling into a fetal position, unable to get to his feet no matter how he tried. "Wh…why?" he coughed hoarsely. "You guys obviously set this up so I'd show up. Why beat me up? What are you trying to prove?"

"What we're try'na prove?" Shocker repeated. "That we're good enough for the boss-man. And here he comes now."

A helicopter. Not a police vehicle, but a jet-black affair, rising alongside the rooftop. Its door open. A slender figure framed in it, black cape billowing in the wind. As the aircraft met the rooftop, the man stepped seamlessly from one to the other, striding confidently toward Spider-Man, and the Sinister Six parted to let him make way.

Spider-Man had seen more than his fair share of costumed supervillains. And yet he'd never seen this one before. He would remember someone clothed in royal blue, in the style of the Persian empire, wearing only one leather glove on his right hand.

"Lemme guess," Spider-Man choked out. "Glove Man?"

"No." The newcomer planted a black-shoed foot onto Spider-Man's stomach. "No villain names. No aliases. Just call me Mozenrath." He smirked. "Trust me. You'll come to hate it. As much as I hate that gaudy red getup."

He rolled his eyes as he turned back to the villains whose escape he had orchestrated; "Do these hero types ever get sick of dressing like a circus gone wrong?"

"Seems not," Shocker drawled casually.

"Now." Mozenrath bent to put his face closer to Spider-Man's. "Your enemies seem bent on not killing you today. I have to respect that for personal reasons. However, I'm afraid this is your sendoff."

The foot was removed, and Spider-Man was caught in a tractor beam of blue magic, barely able to protest before he was hurled off the roof, plummeting toward the waters below.

"Well done," Mozenrath told the other six reprobates. "You passed the test, with minimal interference from me. Well, that's if you call knocking out your security containment measures 'minimal.' I wouldn't just write that off if I were you."

"So what happens now?" Rhino asked.

"Now?" Mozenrath replied, turning to smile at his new hires. "Now, we all board the helicopter and have a little chat."

Within a few minutes, they had gathered inside the small craft, the seven arranged in a clumsy circle. "Before we start," Mozenrath said as he maneuvered the door shut via magic, "I'd like to introduce you all to our pilot: the Huntsman. He'll be another supervisor in this venture."

"Nice to meet ya, pal," Sandman greeted.

"I suppose," the Huntsman grumbled.

"Heh." Beneath his mask, Shocker was smirking. "I like him already."

"Also with us today is Dr. Jacques von Hämsterviel," Mozenrath continued. "It's thanks to him that we found you to begin with."

"You will be grateful that I did not include the cantankerous carrion bird or the filthy feline!" Hämsterviel contributed.

"I should SAY," Mysterio huffed, leaning against the wall. "I can only put up with B-list co-stars for so long. This is a star-studded cast."

Mozenrath fixed Mysterio with a suspicious expression; "You're either going to be my favorite or the one I can't stand, aren't you?"

"Such a curious creature," Octopus stated, looking to Hämsterviel. "A mutation? A rodent granted sentience, or a human given a smaller form?"

"NEITHER!" Hämsterviel yelled. "I AM A HAMSTER-LIKE SENTIENT BEING BORN TO A RACE OF SIMILARLY SENTIENT HAMSTER-LIKE FOLK! And you are going to RESPECT my history of galactic domination!"

"Galactic?" Mozenrath replied. "If I recall, it was one planet."

"You know," Mysterio brought up, "I'd thought of using 'extraterrestrial' as a persona once. 'Sorcerer' ended up fitting better, but think of the possibilities: a superhuman with extraordinary powers lands here on Earth to wreak havoc – "

"I hear once ya get outside New York," Shocker interrupted, "that story's a dime a dozen."

"Then I regret nothing," Mysterio stated. "After all, I am nothing if not original."

Octopus couldn't disguise a short laugh.

"Do you have something to SAY about my performing arts?" Mysterio pressed.

"No," Octopus replied calmly. "Nothing at all."

"I could swear you were mocking me."

"Now, why would a person ever want to do that?"

"SARCASM! I SEE RIGHT THROUGH YOUR PETTY INSULTS – "

"Hey, break it up, BREAK IT UP!" Sandman yelled. "I ain't havin' us get kicked off the copter 'cause you two can't play nice."

"Fine," Mysterio resolved. "I shall simply deliver an INTERNAL monologue about this simpleton's lack of appreciation for a true genius."

"And I shall also keep my thoughts to myself," Octopus said in a tone that suggested he had many, many more thoughts.

"Now, I let you know the basics of the WHAM ARMY when I orchestrated your escape," Mozenrath reminded the group. "However, my research on you wasn't exactly thorough, and that was on purpose. I wanted to hear it from your mouths. What turned all of you to lives of villainy and general mayhem?"

"A DISTRESSING TALE INDEED!" Mysterio stood up from the wall, raising a finger into the air. "For the story of Mysterio is a tale of woe, a tale of hardship, a tale of abject failure and a rising from the ashes as a phoenix would!"

"…I guess you're going first," Mozenrath sighed. "On one condition: drop the helmet and the stage name. I wanna know what I'm working with."

"And ruin the ILLUSION?"

"The ILLUSION doesn't do me any good if it doesn't have any SUBSTANCE TO BACK IT UP."

"Very well." Mysterio reached up, slowly and deliberately removing his spherical helmet. Once a pale face framed with dark hair – rather unremarkable, really, compared to the man's demeanor – stared back at Mozenrath, its owner stated, in a much more subdued voice, "Name's Quentin Beck. As you might've been able to guess, I'm an actor. Or, at least, I WAS an actor before I was rejected and my name dragged through the mud."

"Go on," Mozenrath encouraged.

"I have given my whole heart to the art of film since I was a child!" Quentin insisted. "All I ever wanted was to create that magic with my own hands and bring it to life on the silver screen! But current film trends don't want 'campy' anymore. No, they just want BORING. VANILLA. I tried stunt work, but that blew up in my face, literally and figuratively speaking, due to so-called 'safety regulations.' It was then that a TRAITOROUS EX-ACQUAINTANCE of mine suggested we enter the field of crime together. I thought it sounded like a good idea…until he started hogging all the headlines. He KNEW I wanted that glory! He KNEW I wanted more than just a bit part! And he had the nerve to make me the WAITER? Offering DEMITASSES? Of course, the scheme failed. He had wanted to impersonate Spider-Man. Idiot. If I'D been the one in the suit, the story would be different! So I tore an unmendable rift between myself and the backstabber, and never again shall the twain meet."

"Why do I now know more about your former associate than your actual archnemesis?" Mozenrath asked.

"Because that was only act one," Quentin related. "Act Two: The Fly in the Spider's Web! Once I struck out on my own – "

"Can we wrap this up, please?" Mozenrath sighed. "I don't want the Huntsman to have to circle New York five hundred times while you monologue."

"THEN HE CAN FLY CROSS-COUNTRY IF IT SUITS HIM," Quentin argued. "I'M NOT CUTTING THIS SHORT."

Mozenrath flinched. At first, it seemed he was about to respond angrily; then, even taking himself by surprise, he simply stated, "I think you just proved why you're WHAM ARMY material right there. All right. I'll listen to the rest of your sob story."

"He humiliated me!" Quentin seethed. "He mocked me! He turned me into a laughingstock! But I showed him. A few technical marvels, and I avoided being a jailbird altogether."

"So I found out the hard way," Shocker chimed in. "Thought I'd have a decent conversationalist in that cell for company. Turned out I got a mute android. Thanks a lot."

"You should be glad you even got that CLOSE to having me for company," Quentin argued. "Anyhow, once Spider-Man entered the picture, I became Public Enemy Number One. …Or, at least, I tried to be. There was always someone waiting in the wings to take my spotlight. The Green Goblin, the Big Man of Crime, a certain MASTER PLANNER…"

"A master planner who put you back on your feet," Octopus reminded him.

"But I resolved that I, Mysterio, would make my own name as Spider-Man's slipperiest and most dangerous foe!" Quentin crowed. "And all without the use of superpowers or mutations! Just a few choice practical effects…and some heavy weaponry hidden in them."

"That's admittedly impressive," Mozenrath said. "I can't say I envy those without magic, but I do have to admire the ones who chase after it anyway. So, I presume this is when you joined the Sinister Six."

"When I NETWORKED with them," Quentin corrected. "And yes."

"And after that? Your debut?"

"Well. I was thrown into an island prison before that could happen. You see how that worked out."

"So, in the end, you failed," Mozenrath stated.

Quentin ground his teeth; "I was biding my time before the grand finale!"

"All right. I won't question it." Mozenrath shrugged. "After all, the WHAM ARMY is your grand finale now. Or, rather, the continuation of your saga."

"I prefer to think of it more as – "

"Call us a stepladder to your success and you're getting thrown out of the helicopter right now."

Quentin knew when to shut his mouth for once. Then open it to say "You've heard my story. Now see if the others match up."

"All right." Mozenrath gestured toward Octopus. "You next."

"My true name is Dr. Otto Octavius," the scientist related. "Many thought me a weak and cowardly man, when really, I was biding my time, implementing my innovations on such subjects as Rhino and Sandman until I could seize power and climb above even Norman Osborn."

"You've talked for maybe thirty seconds and I already have terrible déjà vu from our chief scientist back at base," Mozenrath groaned. "You're gonna get along with him swimmingly. By which I mean I fully expect you two to be at each other's throats day in and day out while I have to live with it. But I digress. Go on."

"Hm." Otto smirked. "I look forward to meeting your…chief scientist, in that case. I won't tire you with as lengthy of a tale as Quentin's. I wanted power, and with the help of my superior intellect, I achieved power."

"Also very WHAM ARMY material," Mozenrath said with a nod. "All right. Let's go for the go-getter." He gestured to Shocker.

"My other code name's Montana," Shocker related, "and you'll pardon if for personal security reasons, I don't give ya a birth certificate just yet. You gotta earn that."

"Acknowledged," Mozenrath replied. "Do I at least get to see under the mask?"

"Guess I don't see no harm there." He removed his mask, revealing a neat trim of auburn hair, a strong jawline. "After all, if I'm movin' in, don't expect to be – "

"NO ONE TOLD ME YOU WERE HANDSOME!" Quentin yelled unexpectedly. This caused a rather long and awkward silence before Quentin quickly amended, "In the objective sense. Resume."

"…I was just sayin' I ain't gonna be wearin' this uniform around base, more than likely," Montana picked up. "As for backstory, ain't much to tell. Much like the doc here, I wanted more, an' I took it by force. Ran with the Enforcers a while. A sensible bunch, if a little tame compared to the Sinister Six's flashiness. Ain't gonna miss 'em much. Then again, wouldn't miss anyone much. I make a point of it not to get attached or make ties. That said, y'all've got my loyalty. I may be an island, but I ain't no backstabbin' traitor. A man's gotta honor his responsibilities, I always say. And now, WHAMMIN's one of mine."

"Duly noted," Mozenrath replied. "And your skills?"

"Safecrackin'. Hijackin'. Any kind of stealin' you want. Pay the right price and the bloodstain gets messier."

"I think we can come to an agreement," Mozenrath told him. "All right, it seems we're down to the star of the hour and what I assume can only be the peanut gallery."

"HEY!" Rhino and Sandman chimed as one.

"STAR OF THE HOUR?" Quentin cried. "DID IT MEAN NOTHING TO YOU THAT I SAVED MY ENTRANCE FOR LAST OF ALL TO MAKE THE GREATEST IMPRESSION?"

"You barely did anything," Mozenrath reminded him.

"I. LEFT. AN. IMPRESSION."

"Fiiiine," Mozenrath groaned. He then pointed to Electro; "You. Tell me about yourself."

Electro had masked himself once more upon boarding the copter, and so led with "I won't unmask. If I do that, I might hurt you."

"Try me," Mozenrath told him. "…Then again, if any of the others are delicate, it wouldn't do to break them at this stage. Anyway, I already have ONE electric mutant in my employ, and to be frank, I absolutely hate that he's necessary, so please tell me you're my upgrade to balance him out."

"I…don't want you to call me by any name but 'Electro,' either," Electro went on. "I think you saw enough back at the prison. You don't need to know what comes before that."

"Aw, c'mon." Sandman reached out to clap Electro lightly on the back, which gave him a start; he wasn't used to people actually wanting to get close to him. "Thought I heard you had it rough. Betcha you'll feel miles better talkin' about it."

"Don't…do that," Electro stammered. "If you startle me, I might lose control, and you mentioned getting glassed."

"All right, all right." Sandman withdrew the hand, folding his arms. "Hands to myself. But seriously, you don't gotta be shy. We're all friends here."

"HA!" Quentin crowed.

"Ya didn't hear a word I just said," Montana muttered.

"I…" Electro clenched his fists. "I gained my power in an accident. It changed my life. I became a monster. There was no way to make it…safe for me to interact with the world without the suit. People feared me. My friends turned on me. I lost my job. I couldn't even drink a cup of coffee anymore. Whenever I lost control even in the slightest…if it happened now, this helicopter might just fall right out of the sky. I'd fry the engine. Everywhere I go, my world is made of glass. The only way I found freedom was in using my new power to fulfill every dark fantasy I'd ever had. At first, I thought it would've been better if the shock had just killed me. Now, I could take things I wanted without worrying about expenses. Sustain myself on crime and moving from asylum to asylum, no career needed. Be the thing everyone saw the moment I entered the room…if they were going to look at me anyway. Take the city under my control. The man I was is dead. He died when I had the accident. Now, there's only Electro."

"A little sentimental," Mozenrath commented, "but with a very satisfying ending. After all, what's a villain without a little tragic backstory?"

"It wasn't better than mine," Quentin grumbled.

"You got no sense of self-awareness or empathy, do ya?" Montana asked him.

Electro now noticed that Sandman was staring at him with concern; "What? You didn't know the story?"

"I didn't know it was that bad," Sandman revealed. "You seriously thought about endin' it? Looks like the Sinister Six squad came along at the right time, pal. Y'know, I always knew you were the edgy one, but you always kinda just look like you're havin' a ball on the field, so I thought you were like me. Y'know, signed up for it, then got horrified for about two minutes before figurin' out how great it was."

"I wish it could've been like that," Electro grumbled. "You were lucky."

"Yeah, well…I can't even taste coffee anymore. Or feel it. Most days, I'm used to it, but sometimes I feel like it'd be good to feel somethin', y'know?"

"I'm lucky to feel anything," Electro reminded him. "I have to stay contained."

"Heh…guess we both know what it's like." Sandman gave him a smile. "You need to talk about it more, I'm here, y'know?"

"…Thank you."

Mozenrath cleared his throat loudly; "Are you two done? Or close to it?"

"Yes," Electro muttered.

"Yeah," Sandman affirmed.

"Your turn," Mozenrath told Sandman.

"Aw, me and O'Hirn, we were a dynamic duo," Sandman related. "Alex O'Hirn, that's his name."

"Changed it after I moved to the States," Rhino – Alex – confirmed. "Used to be Aleksei."

"And me?" Sandman went on. "Flint Marko. Which may or may not be what's on my birth certificate; you be the judge."

"Somehow, I doubt you were canny enough to route your aliases," Montana groaned.

"O'Hirn and I were partners in crime," Flint related. "Your basic petty thieves, but man, did we rake in some great hauls. Teamed with Montana there, once."

"Wasn't the most intellectually stimulatin' company I've had," Montana muttered.

"So here's the thing," Flint went on. "O'Hirn and me, we both on completely separate occasions got hit up by Osborn's science team, headed up by the doc there. We were his guinea pigs for 'improvements.' Now, me, I'm all sand. Apparently I got a brain in one grain or somethin'. But I don't taste nothin', I don't smell nothin', I don't feel nothin'. And I don't get killed by nothin', either. Learned that one the hard way. Worst I get is becomin' a glass statue for a while. But it's pretty sweet. I got shapeshiftin' powers, which is pretty handy for breakin' in and outta places. And now that I've had a silicant diet, I can produce unlimited amounts of the sandy stuff. You want me to go big? Oh, I can go BIG. Like I told Electro, it's got its hitches, but mostly, it's been better for business."

"I'm a rhino," Alex stated. "'S why they call me 'Rhino.' Doc fused this skin on me so I don't get hurt by nothin', 'cept if I get hit in the face."

"Y'know, I don't get why YOU'RE not more freaked out about it," Flint realized. "Don't you overheat easily? And that stuff's permanent. You don't miss feelin' your skin under there? Or bein' short enough to not hafta bust through the wall half the time 'cause the door ain't tall enough?"

"Sometimes," Alex admitted. "But mostly, it's worth it to be tough. Nothin' stops me anymore. And I mean nothin'."

"Except Spider-Man," Quentin broke in.

"You're one to talk," Mozenrath brought up.

"I'm not saying I haven't been ingloriously stopped," Quentin clarified. "Just that ALEX there can't claim he hasn't, either."

"Excuse me," Hämsterviel broke in. "You are saying that the lunkhead Rhino's armor plating covers every last inch of his body save for his face?"

"Indeed," Otto confirmed. "That was the point of the concept."

"Then how does he urinate and defecate?" Hämsterviel asked.

Otto flinched. "Why is that important?"

"Because I, myself, have experimented with biological aberrations of science!" Hämsterviel reminded him. "I took partial credit for – ahem. DESIGNED six hundred and twenty six miniature aliens from scratch, and these are the things you must think about when you are creating a living being! The digestive system is the very first priority! Why, if you do not get that right – well. There is a REASON we do not talk about Prototype Alpha."

"Huh," Flint mulled over. "Never thought about that. How do ya go?"

Alex shrugged. "I dunno. I just do, I guess. Never thought about where it goes."

"Are we SERIOUSLY having this conversation?" Mozenrath asked, slack-jawed.

"Apparently so," Quentin huffed.

"I accounted for that in the design," Otto admitted. "I just did not think it was at all a suitable topic for discussion in mixed company."

"…Mixed?" Mozenrath repeated.

"The scientifically-inclined," Otto clarified, "and the…less so. At any rate, Rhino's waste is routed through a system of tubing that empties through the feet. Do not trust dirty tracks he leaves."

"…You know, I think this all might have been worth it to be warned about that little hitch," Mozenrath sighed. "Very well. If we're done with questions about bodily functions – "

"Not a bodily function," the Huntsman broke in, "but it occurs to me, given the incidents that have already taken place regarding Megavolt…what should happen if Electro becomes immersed in water?"

"Things you don't want," Electro said sullenly. "Don't let it happen."

"We won't," Flint said automatically. This prompted Electro to give him almost a wistful look before turning away again to sulk once more, meeting no one's gaze.

"So what happens next?" Montana asked. "Somethin' tells me there's more to this gig than just crushin' the bug."

"There is," Mozenrath confirmed. "I want to take the Sinister Six out for a spin. See what you're all about with a little bank robbery. I think we can all find that agreeable."

"Oh, that's our specialty," Flint said with a smirk, motioning between himself and Alex.

"Maybe your specialty," Montana grunted, "but my callin'."

"A HEIST MOST FIENDISH AND FOUL!" Quentin bellowed. "THE PERFECT STAGE TO SET FOR MY ULTIMATE VILLAINOUS PERFORMANCE!"

"If nothing else, this should be an engaging social experiment," Otto said rather gleefully, pressing the pads of his fingers together.

"I'm in," Electro said with a nod.

"Good," Mozenrath replied. "I think we're going to get along just fine."

Except they weren't. But that realization had yet to break.

...

"And don't forget our plan," Ursula told her cohorts, "regarding the WAN SHI TONG LIBRARY."

"Oh, no," Zurg agreed. "Definitely can't forget about the WAN SHI TONG LIBRARY, as the WAN SHI TONG LIBRARY is what we came for."

"Stop!" Ozai hissed. "They will realize – "

"Hmm," Scar said over him. "Did you say something? I couldn't hear over our discussion of the Wan Shi Tong Library."

"Oh, is THAT the library we're after?" Joker chimed in. "I just can't WAIT to raid the WAN SHI TONG LIBRARY for all the knowledge it has!" He punctuated this with a high-pitched laugh.

Then Ursula made a hand gesture that they'd agreed upon beforehand. The five appeared to part ways, moving to different corners of the room. However, each had a specific role to play. They carried gems, the implements to draw sigils, written incantations.

And set to work scry-proofing the entire room.

Once that had been done, they reconvened. "Perfect," Ursula chuckled. "Now those WHAM ARMY fools will have gotten an earful about EXACTLY what we plan to do."

"I still think it unnecessary to plan for their arrival," Ozai argued. "There is no sense in wasting the time. Not only do we have no proof they are even here, but their incompetence makes them easy foes to defeat."

"That's what you always think," Zurg said with clenched hands. "But it's the incompetent ones that dismantle your empire every time, with their stupid wisecracking robots and their purehearted cinnamon-roll aliens and their dunderhead commanders and – well, all right, Mira Nova is actually competent, but she's the exception that proves the rule, since it begs the question why she associates with Team Lightyear anyhow."

"And who cares if they're not listening in?" Joker cackled. "I just want to outfit that library with as many booby traps as I can fit in it! It'll be so much fun for anyone who decides to join the party! Pranks galore!"

"I may have an idea for a countermeasure that will ensure we get what we want, as well," Scar mused.

"One would almost think you want them to arrive," Ozai grunted, "with the way you lay the trail of crumbs for them. We needn't burden ourselves with the matter. If they were listening, they may very well have never caught our trail."

"Oh, where have I heard that before?" Joker groaned. "Oh, yes – the hundreds of times I told myself BATMAN CAN'T POSSIBLY BE LISTENING IN ON ME."

"That's the thing about the annoying ones," Zurg sighed. "They find a way. It's better we rip the bandage off than have to be taken by surprise."

"I hardly thought I'd be taking the time to admit that my downfall may have been a lack of strategy," Scar pointed out, "but I refuse to repeat the same mistake. Simba returned to dethrone me against all odds. And we haven't even arranged for the WHAM ARMY's deaths."

"Until now," Joker chuckled.

"I refuse to waste another moment on those imbeciles," Ozai muttered. "They cannot even find the Wan Shi Tong Library without the help of a spirit. We will not be interrupted."

"Suit yourself," Ursula told him. "Now, I've got a few errands to run out in town, and I'm hoping the four of you will all be good boys while I'm gone. You have a whole palace to yourselves, after all! Stretch your fins, relax, make yourselves at home!"

"I think I shall quite like this place," Scar mused.

"Palace sweet palace!" Joker sighed.

"It's got a rustic charm," Zurg remarked, "for all it lacks in technology."

"It is no Fire Nation Capital," Ozai grumbled.

"Ta-ta!" Ursula waved as she turned to slither away. "Don't cause too much property damage while I'm away!"

Once she'd left the throne room, she brought forth from extradimensional space a long, purple bottle with a rounded bottom and a slender neck. She simply threw it on the ground to crack it open; this spell was airborne. The potion inside coalesced into a golden light that surrounded Ursula, wrapping up her entire body and morphing it.

Within seconds, the body of the sea witch had been replaced with that of the identity she liked to call "Vanessa." Now looking quite appropriate to move about in human society (which would have tickled her all the more if she could've known what was happening in the WHAM ARMY safehouse just then), she took her leave, heading into the heart of Ba Sing Se.

In the Middle Ring, she heard a few men catcall her, whistling; "Lookin' good, baby!"

"Hmph," Ursula grunted. "Plebeians."

She knew that those whose passions ran toward women's bodies liked Vanessa's shape a good deal more than Ursula's. Which was a never-ending source of confusion. Why have something so skinny and milk-colored, Ursula always wondered, when you could have a solid full-course meal of a body in lavender shadow?

Then again, the one she'd been admiring lately was rather slender herself. Not so blandly pale, though. Very attractive in the conventional sense. That was different from the slavering over Vanessa, though, for reasons Ursula could have put to words but didn't really feel the need to.

" – the rally tomorrow; I think he actually understands what it's like – "

The snippet caught Ursula's ears, and she sidled closer to the man and woman in conversation. She had a certain knack for figuring out what seemingly ordinary turns of phrase held deeper meaning.

"He knows how we can get what we deserve in this world," the man was telling the woman softly. "After all, a non-bender doesn't really aspire to be anything, but a bender with a dream…"

"You seem to trust this man a lot for never having met him," the woman muttered.

"No," the man admitted, "but I ran into a friend of his who told me the news. A charming fellow."

Ursula tripped herself on purpose, stumbling between the two, catching and righting herself. "Oh, pardon me!" she said coyly. "I wasn't watching where I was walking. How clumsy!"

The man and woman looked like they'd been caught robbing the candy store. "How much did you hear?" the man hissed.

"Oh, nothing much," Ursula assured him. "Just a trifle of a detail, really…related to the rally meant for us benders to assert ourselves over the ordinary folk."

Another talent of Ursula's was turning raw context around to make it look like she was steeped in the action.

"Do you want to, too?" the woman hissed. "I'd always thought it was taboo, but now that it's all coming out in the open…I can't wait to give them their due!"

"Oh, I agree," Ursula replied. "Now, remind me again the name of our benefactor? I don't want to show up at the wrong place, after all."

"They say his name is Archibald Snatcher," the man replied, "though that has to be a codename, and it's not even a good one."

Ursula smirked. Bingo. "Do tell me more."

...

So far, White Diamond and Corona Pearl seemed to be getting along, Steven thought.

By which he meant they hadn't actively tried to kill each other.

Maybe they were still a little hostile to each other verbally. A lot of great friendships started out that way. Certainly he'd had his differences with Peridot and Bismuth. So as he led the way down the seashore and listened to Corona Pearl tell White Diamond that she was a "lubber trying to look like she's got her sea legs when out of high society" and White Diamond reply that Corona Pearl was "uncouth, incorrigible, and the sort who would be assigned immediate shattering in my court," he just gritted his teeth, sweated a bit, let his eye twitch, and bore it.

"Hey!" he broke in. "Guess what? We're almost to the temple where I live with the Crystal Gems! You get to meet the members of Rose's original rebellion! It's like living history! Plus, they're really nice. It'll be fun!"

"I already know White Pearl," White Diamond reminded Steven. "She was my personal Pearl for millennia."

"Uhhhhh…yeah," Steven realized. "Forgot about that part."

"PERSONAL Pearl, eh?" Corona Pearl taunted. "Be we chattel to ye? Cargo to ship around from one sutler to another? Ye've got half the power in this Pearl's aragonite! Should be me makin' ye lick me boots clean!"

"CORONA PEARL!" Steven scolded. "That's…that's just rude!"

"An' she weren't?" Corona Pearl retorted. "Callin' me an' me hearties property?"

"…No, that was definitely…more than rude," Steven muttered. "But it's one of those things that doesn't change overnight."

"We Corona Gems," Corona Pearl explained, "we don't have yer morals nor yer loyalties. No code o' conduct. We go where the wearer of the crown says we go, an' we do what they say we do, for we've no care. All that matters to us be the thrill of the voyage! So I won't stand up for any of yer other Gems. 'Tain't a matter of sympathy; treat 'em how ye please. But ye don't tell a Corona Pearl that she's meant to be yer slave 'cause she's a Pearl!"

"And yet you just said you go where your leader bids you to go," White Diamond pointed out, "and do what she bids you to do. Even more blindly than any Pearl in my court ever did."

"…That be by choice," Corona Pearl muttered defensively. "We've no goals, no ambitions, only desire to set our power free. If some savvy interloper gives us the direction…" And yet she couldn't finish.

"Look," Steven sighed. "White Diamond, it's still wrong to make Pearls do what you want. Not budging on that one. And you shouldn't think you're better than Pearls, either. But Corona Pearl…are you sure you're okay? Is that really what you want? Just to be handed off from person to person and be told how to use your power?"

"AYE, IT BE!" Corona Pearl insisted. "SO LONG AS IT AIN'T BY THE HAND OF ANY OTHER GEM!"

"How odd," White Diamond said, changing track. "The Crystal Gems seem to be arranged in some sort of ritual circle around that human."

"Oh!" Steven looked to where his family sat in a ring. "That's no ordinary human! That's my dad! C'mon, let's go meet 'em!" He broke into a run with an expression that resembled as much glee as he could muster for the moment.

White Diamond and Corona Pearl sent each other vicious glares before following – White Diamond at a quick stride and Corona Pearl at a dash.

"Dad!" Steven waved as he approached the group. His family was quite a colorful bunch – Greg Universe, his father and the token human of them, was a somewhat rotund man with hair that was all but nonexistent on top and yet a long waterfall on the bottom,; he held an acoustic guitar in his hands as he sat cross-legged on the beach sands. Beside him, an absolutely towering and well-built Gem, with deep maroon skin, an impressive square cut of dark hair, and three eyes that were hidden beneath a pair of opaque sunglasses. This was Garnet, who bore two gems, one in each hand, to signify the Gems that formed her fusion: the calm Sapphire and the brash Ruby. She was clothed in a pantsuit of pinks and burgundies. Then there was the thin, reedy Pearl, who looked quite similar to Corona Pearl in shape and palette but with a much more tamed short haircut and a kempt outfit – pant, blouse, jacket – of varying shades of blue. Then, finally, short and stocky Amethyst, with a cascade of untamed lavender hair over skin of deep purple, clothing tattered and marked with purple stars.

It was Amethyst who put up a hand first; "Yo, STEVEN! Who's your new friend? She looks cool!"

"You would say that," Pearl muttered.

"AHOY!" Corona Pearl said with a toothy grin, skidding to a stop that threw up a wave of sand onto Amethyst. "I be Corona Pearl, of the crew of the Corona Aurora!"

"Neato!" Amethyst gasped. "She's a pirate!"

"Steven, be careful!" Pearl warned. "I've heard of legends of these sea thieves! She might be dangerous!"

"That's never really stopped him before," Garnet pointed out.

Steven waved a hand; "Eh, she's nothing I can't handle."

"Neither is White Diamond," Garnet added.

Now White Diamond had caught up, and the other two Gems present realized that she was, in fact, there. "MY DIAMOND!" Pearl leapt up, crossing her hands backward into a rhomboid shape. Then immediately dissolved the gesture, averting her gaze. "…I apologize. It's an old habit."

"Yo." Amethyst waved to White Diamond. "'Sup?"

"Sup on what?" White Diamond whispered to Steven. "That is the one who enjoys food, correct?"

"Yeah," Steven whispered back, "but that's not what she means. It's short for 'What's up?'. You know, a way to ask how you are."

"How I am…" White Diamond mulled this over. Then turned her gaze toward Amethyst, stating with a calm smile, "I am miffed."

"And I be the miffin' one," Corona Pearl said with a sly, proud grin.

"You're…awfully outspoken, for a Pearl," Pearl observed. "Most of us haven't adjusted outside of having massive inferiority complexes. It took me centuries to get over mine."

"You got over yours?" Amethyst teased. "Since WHEN?"

"I never answered to no Diamond lubber," Corona Pearl spat before literally spitting into the sand. "The Corona Aurora is its own crew, its own hierarchy. No loyalty, save for each other."

"She's been isolated from the conflict surrounding Homeworld," Garnet realized.

"Homeworld!" Corona Pearl flinched. "So that's where I be, after all this time! Or one of its ports in the great starry sea, anyhow."

"How long ago were you last on Homeworld?" Steven asked her.

"Last I remember," Corona Pearl mused, "there weren't no Diamond tellin' everybody to walk the plank."

"No Diamond?" Steven shook his head. "But that's impossible. There have always been the Diamonds. Four of them! I used to be one! Sort of."

"I haven't existed forever," White Diamond admitted. "But for her to predate me…"

"Would give me the charter to boss you around," Corona Pearl taunted, "now, wouldn't it?"

"But how can this be?" Pearl wondered out loud. "That would make her older than all of us here, and yet she was removed from the conflict…"

"Maybe she got stuck in a mirror like Lapis?" Amethyst suggested.

"We won't solve this mystery in a day," Garnet stated.

Corona Pearl turned to look up at the massive cliff face bordering the beach, where a seemingly unassuming house of pastel wood connected to a massive temple carved in the shape of a six-armed Gem with flowing locks of hair. "This be yer stronghold," she observed.

"Aye," Garnet replied, attempting to get into the spirit.

"It's, uh…it's nice to meet you!" Greg fumbled, not quite sure how you greet a mysterious stranger who seems to be as old as time itself. "How're you liking Beach City?"

"It be not much of a port," Corona Pearl huffed. "In my time, I've seen great and wondrous harbors populated by swashbucklin' heroes and the foulest o' ruffians!"

"Oh, no, no ruffians here," Greg commented. "Though my son and the Crystal Gems are really heroes!"

"If there be no RUFFIANS," Corona Pearl growled, "what be the ADVENTURE?"

"Well," Steven admitted, "with so much adventure going on lately, sometimes I kind of like when the adventure…slows down for a bit."

"But that be BORING!" Corona Pearl whined.

"Not if you find the little things that are interesting," Steven told her. "Like…uh…"

His eyes drifted to his father's guitar. "You play music?"

"MUSIC?" Corona Pearl's eyes sparkled. "I know the wickedest and wildest o' sea shanties and then some!"

"Here!" Greg stood, offering his guitar over to her. "Why don't you play something?"

"Hmm…" Corona Pearl thought it over, taking the instrument to hand. "An old song is driftin' back to me on the sea wind."

Then she began to play, and while it was a seafarer's song, it was no jolly and rambunctious shanty but rather a haunting tune about how the oceans kept you distant from the familiar, and what a bittersweet feeling that was, to always live in a changing world.

As she played and sang, White Diamond felt a strange sensation, like a warmth. Almost similar to when she'd listened to Pink Diamond sing, back on Homeworld. So this was why music was so much more prevalent on this almost-colony. Corona Pearl sang with the same freedom as Pink, barely adhering to structure, her voice slipping off-tempo and breaking at points but never losing its spirit.

When the final chord was struck, White Diamond said without thinking, "That was beautiful."

"I don't trust no compliments from ye," Corona Pearl growled at her. "Should a minnow trust the light on an anglerfish?"

"Why don't we give White Diamond the benefit of the doubt?" Steven asked. "She hasn't held back on being honest with you so far – maybe a little TOO much – so why would she lie now?"

"Hmmm." Corona Pearl thought it over, fixing White Diamond with a look of suspicion. "Thank ye…I suppose." She then turned to Steven; "Where else might we find these little adventures of yours? Perhaps enough of them added together will feel like a proper voyage."

"I just got a great idea!" Steven cried. "C'mon! Follow me! I know exactly where we should go!"

He took off running, and Corona Pearl followed, matching his pace; White Diamond simply let herself grow a little more in order to match their speed at a brisk walk. All the while, trying to figure out how such beautiful music could come from someone so insufferable.

...

Ursula had told her cohorts to play nice while she was away.

The problem was that while the Joker loved to play, it was never nice.

As soon as Ursula had slithered out of that throne room, he'd come up with a gag that he found incredibly hilarious – so much so that he almost began laughing upon getting the idea. But he would have to see if it would pan out the way he thought.

His three co-conquerors had spread out through the palace, utterly ignoring each other. That was a good start. Joker went on a little wander, eventually coming across some sort of war room where Ozai was perusing maps of the world.

"Because of course he is," Joker muttered.

While Ozai didn't hear what, exactly, Joker had said, he could tell he had a visitor who'd said something. "Don't waste my time," he seethed.

"Well, SOMEONE woke up on the wrong side of the bed this morning!" Joker skipped into the room. "What are we looking at?"

"Where we may expand from here," Ozai stated.

"Hmmm," Joker remarked, "that doesn't sound like what Maleficent sent us here for, OR what Ursula wants to do. Interesting."

"I am beginning to tire of their roundabout schemes," Ozai growled. "It is time we closed an iron grip over our territory and made a tangible impact."

"Oh, I do SO hate roundabout schemes!" the Joker pretended to agree. "Say, on the subject of things we can't stand, what do you happen to think of our brothers in arms?"

"I would rather not waste words on them," Ozai grunted.

"Oh, come on!" Joker urged. "We're in a safe space! You can really just let loose if you want to!"

"You wish me to let loose?" Ozai's lower eyelid twitched as he faced Joker. "Very well. I shall tell you what I think of our colleagues. I do not think highly at all of Zurg – "

"Oh, but why not? I always thought you two were so similar, being evil emperors and all that – "

"My regime held power for a hundred years," Ozai growled. "Zurg seems to need to re-conquer the same empire every week, with a new scheme to do so. Never a well-planned one, at that. Persistence may be admirable, but there comes a time when desperation smells of smoldering…and I have the impression that time came perhaps nine hundred thousand schemes ago. Has he nothing better to do? Obviously, he was never fit to rule, if he cannot keep the throne so long."

"iiiiiiiinteresting," Joker commented. "But, now, what about that Scar guy? I mean, HE planned a pretty impressive takeover. Didn't he somehow manage to cause a drought?"

"Scar may act intelligent," Ozai said dryly, "but do not forget he was devoured by his own loyalists by losing that loyalty. Why he even chose to keep trusting them after their first failure escapes me; certainly that should have been the sign of the rift. As with Zurg, Scar seems to think that enacting the same course again and again will produce a different result. Had he made competent choices to begin with, he would not have found himself in need of resurrection."

"Oh, that certainly is a lot of bad blood," Joker said with a nod. "Will you look at the time? I really MUST be going. Nice talking with you!"

"The sentiment is not reciprocated," Ozai grunted before returning his attention to the maps.

In the hallway outside the strategy room, Joker began to chuckle. Ozai had been so focused on his exasperation and the maps, he had neither noticed the hand Joker kept in his pocket nor the subtle click of the recording device.

"Oh, how you'll wish you could eat those words," Joker muttered gleefully to himself. "Now…if I were a totalitarian feline who recently emerged from the shallow end of the gene pool, where would I be?"

...

The course the compass had charted for Zevon and his band had led them out of town proper (insofar as you could call the sleepy little collection of homes and amusements a "town") and toward a beach that seemed to have been avoided by the proletariat sprawl, almost as if there were a forbidden agreement that no humans should tread there. And Zevon had stuck to it, not a foot wavering from the path – making sure, drill-sergeant style, that no one else strayed, either.

"DRACO!" he barked. "NO SLACKING OFF!"

"I was just looking around!" Draco snapped in return. "Isn't that what we're supposed to do? Figure out our surroundings?"

"WUYA!" Zevon yelled, not even addressing Draco's concern. "YOU'RE FALLING BEHIND!"

"Um." Wuya looked to how she was last in line, literally a pace behind Yzma (a position she'd chosen for certain aesthetic purposes, given what would lay in her line of sight). "No…I'm not."

"JACK SPICER!" Zevon yelled. "YOU AREN'T BREATHING IN PROPER SYNCHROCADENCE WITH THE TEAM!"

"Okay," Jack groaned, "this mission is officially no fun. We've been walking for like an hour, and all we've done is listen to you tell us to do what we're already doing, except harder!"

"The purpostation of this endeaventure is not to have FUN!" Zevon barked. "It is to captify our gem and DEPARTURIZE! And on that note, I decommand that you all PREPARE TO CAPTIFY HARDER!"

"Oh, but there's always room for fun amongst the business," Peter argued. "Does anyone want to take advantage of the day? Build a sand castle? Perhaps go wading in the shallows?"

"What – no!" Draco argued. "That's not what we're bloody here to do!"

"We're on business!" Yzma agreed. "You think I like being here and NOT sunbathing? No, but we're not here to sunbathe!"

"I just want to get this over with," Wuya grunted. "We just got back from the LAST gem hunt. The sooner we get all five in our hands, the sooner we can close this chapter."

"Though I will say that most of our other endeavors thus far have had SOME element of entertainment," Yzma grumbled under her breath. "Not that I NEED ANYTHING besides trudging STRAIGHT TOWARD OUR GOAL – "

"Okay," Jack groaned, "I'm sensing a problem with your team morale here."

"THERE IS NO PROBLEM WITH MY TEAM MORALITALE!" Zevon yelled.

"After all," Yzma reminded the group, "we can have all the pleasures of a spa back at the base! That is, if SOMEONE DOESN'T GO BREAKING INTO OTHER PEOPLE'S ROOMS!"

"Must it always be at base that we unwind?" Peter posed. "All the worlds at our disposal, and we don't even make use of their opportunities."

"THE ONLY OPPORTUNITUNE HERE IS THE PEARL OF THE CORONA AURORA!" Zevon bellowed. "AND I – "

Then a Corridor of Darkness opened in front of him, spilling out Garfield and Irmaplotz.

Both parties looked at each other in surprise for quite a while before Garfield put up his hand and simply said "Hey."

"What did you do?" Wuya asked him.

"Nothing," Garfield told her. "Like I told Righty. Riddler took a hard pass."

"They smell like they did something," Yzma commented.

"What does that even smell like?" Irmaplotz asked.

"You," Yzma replied.

"Oh, what does it matter in the long run?" Peter asked. "It's not as if we don't all have stains on our permanent records."

"Yes," Wuya sighed, "but they specifically did something Mozenrath is going to get mad at, and I want to know what it is. …What, did you kill the Riddler?"

"NO!" both Garfield and Irmaplotz yelled at the same time.

"Why would we kill the Riddler?" Irmaplotz defended. "Who would want to kill the Riddler? Where, when, and how would we kill the Riddler?"

"You killed him, didn't you?" Yzma asked.

"He took a hard pass," Garfield reiterated. "There's no more to it than that. If he wound up dead, it was because he struck first."

"Look," Draco groaned, "we're going to get nowhere with this nonsense. It's about as useful as trying to get Potter reported to Filch. I say we let Mozenrath figure it out later and just play their game for now."

"Can we come on your mission?" Irmaplotz asked. "It sounds like fun."

"I'll have to – " Wuya began.

"YES!" Jack screeched.

" – consider it," Wuya sighed. "Well, there's no saying no now, is there?"

"Oh, the more, the merrier!" Peter had somehow ended up standing next to Garfield without anyone noticing, bending his elbows backward to give him sort of an inverted hug around the torso. "Though I can't imagine all this armor would be comfortable on the beach."

Wuya rolled her eyes, clapping her hands once. Now Garfield wore a shirt cut in Hawaiian style, red with orange and yellow flame patterns, over a pair of knee-length denim shorts and bright yellow sandals.

"I get that suit back later, right?" Garfield asked.

"Hmm…depends," Wuya told him. "Are you going to tell me what you did with the Riddler?"

"Why don't we work that part out later? I'm diggin' this outfit."

"Very well."

"This place is perfect!" Irmaplotz cried. "Exactly like the name said! Beach…" She gestured out to the ocean, then back to the barely-visible skyline. "City!"

"How is THAT a city?" Draco snapped.

"That's what all cities look like where I'm from," Irmaplotz said flatly. "This one's just missing its castle."

"You've led a horrible life up until we found you," Yzma told Irmaplotz.

"Yeah," Irmaplotz sighed. "I know."

"Memo to self," Jack muttered, "take my girlfriend to a REAL city."

"So catch us up," Garfield urged.

"We're on our way to locate the pearl of the Corona Aurora," Peter related, letting him go only to intertwine his left arm with Garfield's right. "The compass is giving us a lead…and yet we have no way of distinguishing between the pearl we're looking for and the myriad of other Pearls in this world who seem to be alive."

"…Yeah, that's par for the course for us," Garfield sighed. "So the compass said it's out here in the sticks."

"SHE'S out here," Jack corrected. "Respect the pronouns."

"My bad," Garfield replied, not even bothering to analyze the fact that he felt no need to question this.

"EVERYONE BE SILENCENT!" Zevon yelled, throwing out his arms to either side. "WE ARE ON THE DIVERGE OF LOCATIONATING THE PEARL, AND WE MUST BE PREPARATIONED FOR WHATEVER LIES AHEAD, BE IT FRIEND OR ARCHNEMEFOE!"

"This world does have its fair share of monsters," Wuya cautioned. "I'd watch my step."

"But, I mean, we're gonna stick together, right?" Jack brought up. "That means the monsters can't – I MEAN WE'RE EACH POWERFUL INDIVIDUALLY, ESPECIALLY ME. They don't know what they're messing with."

"I believabilify that the Pearl we seek…" Zevon gestured dramatically to the cliff that blocked their view of the curve of the beach ahead. "Is around THAT CORNER!"

"All right." Garfield turned to face that direction, squaring up. "I say we go in swinging."

"Oh, I like that," Peter agreed, flexing out his arms.

"We'll crush those monsters!" Irmaplotz crowed, charging up a sizzle of magic in her gloved hands. "BWO-HOHOHOHOHO!"

"Wait until they get a taste of…JACK SPICER: EVIL GENIUS!" Jack cried. "FEATURING IRMAPLOTZ: EVIL PRINCESS OF DOOM! HAHAHAHAHAHAAAAA!"

Draco gripped his wand tightly. "So Unforgivable Curses won't work? Suppose that means I'll have to be creative."

"I mean, I could probably oneshot whatever's guarding the Pearl on my own," Wuya remarked, "but it's probably better to do something something team morale."

"On my count!" Yzma crowed as they lined up. "And a ONE! And a TWO! And a THREE!"

Then, the entire group went charging around the cliff, screaming a loud warcry of "AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!"

Only to come upon a very shocked Greg Universe, Pearl, Amethyst, and Garnet calmly sitting in a circle on the sand, Greg clutching his guitar like a shield, all four looking utterly gobsmacked.

"CEASE HALT FIRE!" Zevon screamed, and the entire group came to a sudden stop.

"Dude," Amethyst remarked. "Are you, like…okay?"

"No," Draco sighed. "I've never been okay once in my entire life, and I'm resigned to that not changing."

"Welcome to Beach City," Garnet stated. "You must be new here."

"Er…yes!" Yzma chuckled. "New." Unbeknownst to Garnet, that prompt had just saved Yzma from having to concoct an overly complicated justification story for their presence involving a hot-air balloon and monkeys.

Wuya gave Zevon a light shove on the shoulder. "There's a Pearl."

"I know," Zevon whispered back.

"They're weaklings," Wuya told him. "Give the word, and we'll take them down."

"Understanded!" Zevon raised his voice to address the Crystal Gems Plus Greg: "OPPONENTRY! TELL US WHO WE HAVE THE PLEASURE OF COMBATTLING TODAY!"

"Um…Greg Universe?" Greg replied.

"Garnet," Garnet added.

"Pearl," Pearl said with a tone laden with suspicion. "And what do you mean by – "

"Name's Amethyst," Amethyst said. "And you guys really need to take those sticks out of your butts, dudes. Why do you wanna fight?"

"BECAUSE!" Zevon declared. "YOU HAVE STRUCK THE FIRST OFFENSION!"

"No, they haven't," Wuya reminded him.

"…NO, YOU HAVEN'T!" Zevon realized.

"The first offense?" Pearl repeated. "But we didn't do anything."

"We've just been sitting here playing songs on the beach," Greg added.

"I don't understand," Pearl broke in. "Are you REALLY here to – "

"You should just chill out and join in the singing circle, bros," Amethyst said with a grin.

"There is infinite room in this circle of song," Garnet added.

"Are you REALLY here to FIGHT US?" Pearl asked. "Or is this some sort of athletic challenge, like the volleyball league?"

"OH, WE ARE HERE – " Zevon began.

When all of a sudden, it occurred to him that he was very tired. Not in the manner that he was sleepy, but hearing the debate some paces back had brought back to mind how many adventures he'd been on, and how he really had been pushing his own mother and the woman who might as well be his stepmother quite hard, with two of these missions in a row. And all at once, the sensations hit him: the softness of the sand, the sound of the rolling waves, the heat of the sun.

" – to indulgate in some live-action roleplaying," Zevon finished, "but now, we have decided instead to assimintegrate into your sphericircular song-along!"

"So you'd best surrender," Draco added, "or – wait, WHAT?"

"YOU HEARD ME!" Zevon bellowed. "IT IS TIME TO SING!"

"WHY?" Draco yelled.

"Team moralitale," Zevon muttered.

"YES!" Jack pumped his fist. "SCORE ONE SPICER!"

"What did you do?" Irmaplotz asked him.

"Talked him into how to handle this mission like an actual evil pro," Jack related.

"Oh!" Pearl realized, giving a nervous laugh. "I'm so silly. I should've known you were LARPers, given how so many of you are dressed."

"I'm not sure how to take that," Irmaplotz admitted.

"Well, pop a squat!" Greg offered. "Plenty of room here!"

Soon, the entire contingent was arranged in the circle,sitting or kneeling, most of them glaring furiously at Pearl. After all, this side venture would certainly hand them a strategy as to how to capture her and dissolve her physical projection.

"So how is this going to work?" Wuya asked. "Do we all improv it?"

"I was under the impression this was one of those times when we would attempt a group musical number and magically all know the harmonies," Yzma stated. "Don't ask. I didn't even know that was a thing until Megavolt pointed it out."

"I say just start goin'," Greg encouraged. "I can pick up pretty much any key on my guitar, so sing a fave and I'll strum along!"

Amethyst nudged Wuya; "You first, dude!"

"Hmm." Wuya thought it over. "All right. But you asked for this." She cleared her throat; "All right, sir! Sure, I'll have another one; it's early! Three olives, shake it up; I like it dirty! Tequila for my girl; it makes her flirty!" (This with eyelashes batted toward Yzma.) "Trust me; I'm the – "

Jack, who knew this tune, was already whispering a cue to Irmaplotz.

" – instigator of underwear, showing up here and there!" Wuya crowed. "Uh-oh!"

"OH NO!" Jack and Irmaplotz chorused.

"I'm always on a mission from the get-go – "

"GET-GO!"

"So what if it's only one o'clock in the afternoon? It's never too late to send out all the invitations to the last night of – "

"YOUR LIFE!" the teens threw up their fists.

Greg was a little taken back, but as promised, he matched the chords as Wuya proceeded; "Lordy, lordy, lordy! How can I help it; I like to party! It's genetic! I'm electrifying! Wind me up and watch me go; where she stops, nobody knows! A good excuse to be a bad influence on you!"

She then took as much of a bow as she could muster while sitting in a lotus style, and Pearl clapped politely for her. "That was…very upbeat!" the skinny Gem complimented.

"Isn't that by that one singer whose name you really like?" Amethyst teased. "You know the one!"

"It's true," Garnet agreed.

"I – I don't know what you're talking about." Pearl was blushing a definite blue.

"I actually still don't get it," Jack asked. "How come so many songs and bands are consistent across – "

"Parallel universe theory," Wuya hissed at him. "I'll explain when we have some PRIVACY." She then turned to smirk at Yzma; "Your turn, dear."

Yzma, who had been watching Wuya with rapt, wide eyes, flinched. "What?"

"Ohh, is someone starstruck?" Wuya teasingly flicked a finger under Yzma's chin.

"No, I'm not starstruck," Yzma hissed, "and I am most CERTAINLY not flustered, if that's what you're implying! This isn't a blush, either! It's heat stroke!"

"HEAT STROKE?" Zevon repeated. "WE MUST GET YOU MEDICALIZED ATTENTIONATION – "

"Oh, look," Yzma groaned. "My heat stroke is suddenly cured."

"Good," Pearl sighed. "I almost thought we had an emergency on our hands."

"Just give me the floor!" Yzma hissed. She then cleared her throat, louder and more ostentatiously than Wuya had done, before starting off slowly, her words flowing like sticky honey: "Come on, babe. Why don't we paint the town?" A pause. "And all that jazz."

Suddenly, she kicked up the tempo; you could almost hear the drum beat falling in, almost see the lights strobe aboe her. "I'm gonna rouge my knees and roll my stockings down! And all that jazz! Start the car; I know a whoopee spot where the gin is cold but the piano's hot! It's just a noisy hall where there's a nightly brawl! And all! That! Jazz!"

Greg had been able to match her key and tempo just in time. When Yzma finished, she stated, "You may applaud now."

Wuya, Jack, and Zevon were the only ones who did so, Zevon the loudest of the three.

"For being the only person around here who gave me any RESPECT and hadn't sung previously and isn't Jack Spicer," Yzma droned, "my son has the next turn. I wouldn't override a founder decree if I were you."

"I SHALL MAKE YOU PROUDIGAL!" Zevon cried.

"Let's see if it's like mom, like son!" Amethyst said eagerly.

Zevon started out by snapping his fingers to set the beat: a quick pace that let Greg know this would be a challenge. After four measures, Zevon began to warble: "I'm in a little bitta trouble, and I'm in real deep. From the beginning to the end, he was no more than a friend to me. The thought is makin' me hazy! I think I better sit down! 'Cause like the sweetest serenaparade I bet he knows he's got it made with me!" The snapping ceased so he could move his hands rhythmically; "Twistin' round on a caroumasel; this speed's too much to stop! One second, I think I feel the lust, and then I feel a lot!"

His voice soared out over the beach in a most Yzma-like fashion; "OOH, THAT MAN IS LIKE A FLAME, AND OOH, THAT MAN PLAYS ME LIKE A GAME! My only sin is I can't win; ooh, I wanna love that man! OOH, THAT MAN IS ON MY LIST AND OOH, THAT MAN I WANNA KISS! My only sin is I can't win! Ooh, I wanna love that man!"

Then, without warning, he pointed sharply to Garfield; "YOUR TURN!"

"Wha – " Garfield sputtered. "Okay, a heads-up would be nice next time. You really wanna do Greg dirty like that?"

"Oh, no," Greg said hastily. "I'm fine. I can keep up. In fact, challenge me!"

"You heard him," Garnet told Garfield. "He wants a challenge."

"Well, I don't got a challenge," Garfield replied. "What I have is a favorite song that I better not look like an idiot singing."

After a pause of far too long, he started out softly: "Am I brave enough? Am I strong enough? To follow the desire…that burns from within. To push away my fear. To stand where I'm afraid. I am through with this…"

As the pre-chorus built in intensity, so did the volume of his voice; "I promise to myself and no one else – my flame is rising higher!" An absolute belt: "I AM THE FIII-IIIRE! I AM BURNING BRIGHTER! ROARING LIKE A STO-ORM, AND I AM THE O-ONE! I'VE BEEN WAITING FO-OR! SCREAMING LIKE A SI-REN! ALIVE AND BURNING BRIGHTER! I AM THE FIIIIIIIRE!"

The words caught in his throat; as his song and Greg's guitar trailed off in almost perfect unison, Garfield realized, "Huh. That's been my song for years, and I only just got now how it – yeah. It's me, all right." He bopped Peter with his elbow. "You go before I get all psychoanalytical."

Without missing a beat, Peter jumped in; "We're no strangers to love!"

"NO!" everyone who wasn't Garfield, Greg, Garnet, or Pearl yelled. (Garfield just started snickering.)

Peter didn't slow down; "You know the rules, and so do I! A full commitment's what I'm thinkin' of; you wouldn't get this from any other guy! I just wanna tell you what I'm feelin' – "

Garfield fell straight backward to roll in the sand with laughter as his teammates fixed vicious glares upon Peter.

"Gotta make you understand!" Peter was now dancing in place, as he was wont to do. "Never gonna give you up! Never gonna let you down! Never gonna run around and desert you! Never gonna make you cry! Never gonna say goodbye! Never gonna tell a lie and hurt you!" Then he halted as immediately as he'd begun. "That's all."

"I still don't understand the joke behind that song," Pearl admitted. "So…you think you're going to see one video…but instead, it's just that song? Is there a hidden meaning to it?"

"It's wholesome," Garnet told her.

"You should go next," Jack told Irmaplotz.

"No, you!" Irmaplotz told Jack.

"No, you should go! You have a better singing voice."

"Aww, no I don't! Yours is better!"

"You – "

"WILL YOU BLOODY STOP?" Draco cried in frustration. "ONE OF YOU JUST GO. IRMAPLOTZ, GO. I DON'T CARE."

"Well, okay." Irmaplotz took a deep breath, then began: "Look at this photograph – "

The chorus of groans and protests was even louder than the response to Peter's choice.

"Every time I do, it makes me laugh!" Irmaplotz continued out of spite. "How did our eyes get so red, and what the heck is on Joey's head? This is where I grew up! I think the present owner fixed it up! I never knew we never went without – "

And then Wuya came up behind her and pushed her down so her face landed in the sand. As Irmaplotz struggled, Wuya glared daggers at Draco; "You KNOW what her taste in poetry is like. You brought this upon all of us."

"I'm sorry," Draco muttered.

Wuya gave Jack a serious look; "You're our only hope."

"And you'll let her go if I sing?" Jack prompted.

"Yes."

"All right, losers," Jack declared. "Prepare to be blown out of the water." A deep breath, and then…"SOOOOOOO TELL ME WHAT YOU WANT, WHAT YOU REALLY REALLY WANT! I'LL TELL YOU WHAT I WANT, WHAT I REALLY REALLY WANT! SO TELL ME WHAT YOU WANT, WHAT YOU REALLY REALLY WANT! I'LL TELL YOU WHAT I WANT, WHAT I REALLY, REALLY WANT! I WANNA – HA! I WANNA – HA! I WANNA – HA! I WANNA – HA! I REALLY REALLY REALLY REALLY WANNA ZIG-A-ZIG-AAAAAH!"

Yzma shrugged; "Better than Nickelback."

"Agree to disagree," Peter and Garfield said in unison.

"If you wanna be my lover!" Jack chirped. "You gotta get with my friends! Make it last forever, 'cause friendship never ends! If you wanna be my lover, you have got to give! Takin' is too easy, but that's the way it iiiiis!"

Wuya eased up on Irmaplotz, letting the girl actually breathe something that wasn't sand. "You have a voice like an angel," Irmaplotz told Jack sweetly.

"And yours is like a songbird!" Jack replied.

"No, yours – "

"Save us, Draco!" Zevon urged.

"I – I – " Draco sputtered.

"Favorite song GO!" Zevon yelled.

"I…" Draco faltered. "I don't…have one. Not one with words, anyhow."

"WHAT?" Zevon cried dramatically.

"You know," Wuya said as she settled back down beside Yzma in the sand, "somehow, this doesn't surprise me."

"My parents preferred to listen to classical," Draco explained. "Wizard-composed, at that."

"IT'S PART OF THE LARP!" Jack screamed before Amethyst could ask questions.

"I'd always thought myself above them," Draco muttered. "Not giving in to listening to their overplayed, overrated drivel…and yet…all those violins weren't what I wanted, either!"

"And you've sat in on how many karaoke nights?" Yzma asked. "Surely, you must've heard SOMETHING that struck your fancy!"

"It's not like I could memorize an entire song in one go!" Draco argued. "I've heard plenty that sounded…not terrible, at least. But I haven't FOUND anything else!"

"You aren't allowed to leave the song circle until you've contributed a song," Irmaplotz stated. "Even if it's a horrible song."

"Says who?" Draco countered.

"Says me," Irmaplotz told him. "Just now."

"Seconded," Garfield piped up.

"I'll be the third," Peter chimed in.

Draco sighed. "Unless you want me to give my best impression of a harpsichord, we aren't getting anywhere this way!"

"…COULD we do that thing where somebody starts singing and everybody suddenly knows the words?" Irmaplotz mused.

"Eh, worth a shot." Yzma shrugged. "Now. As for the number…"

"Three," Zevon said without thinking.

"MUSICAL number!" Yzma corrected. "Not 'pick one between one and five'!"

"Greg can decide," Garnet stated. "He's the neutral party. Would give him time to play the intro."

"Sure," Wuya resigned.

"Um…okay." Greg readied his hands over his guitar. "Let's just go with an old favorite, then."

"OOH, IS THIS GONNA BE 'LET ME DRIVE MY VAN INTO YOUR HEART'?" Amethyst cried.

"It is!" Greg told her proudly before striking a chord and beginning to sing; "I know I'm not that tall. I know I'm not that smart. But let me drive my van into your heart; let me drive my van into your heart!"

"I know I'm not that rich," Garfield slipped right in.

"I'm trying to get my start!" Zevon added.

"So let me drive my van into your heart!" Garfield, Zevon, Peter, Jack, Draco and Greg all chorused. "Let me drive my van into your heart!"

And yet Draco didn't quite feel the sentiment of these lyrics. No, it was just too close to something else…a stolen moment of fame, once, that he'd wished he could've had, even though it would've meant severe discplinary action. How was it that he had followed every rule perfectly his first year (as far as he was concerned) and yet Potter and Weasley had managed to upstage him almost immediately by doing the exact opposite?

"And if we look out of place…" Irmaplotz sang.

"Well, baby, that's okay!" Wuya chuckled.

"I'll drive us to outer space!" Yzma crowed.

"Where we can't hear what people say," the three harmonized, with Pearl, Amethyst, and Garnet joining in.

As an ensemble, they sang the last verse: "I know I don't have a plan. I'm working on that part! I know I've got a van, so let me drive my van into your heart!"

No. It wasn't about love; it was about capturing the hearts of the people. Or maybe it was about the heart of just the one, but it wasn't like that one would be any good for him now. And most of all, it was about the freedom to finally, finally break that rule and get his due for it.

Somehow, they all knew, and everyone but Draco dropped out for the final lines:

"Let me fly my car into your hearts! Let me fly my car into your hearts. Let me fly my car into your hearts! Let me fly my car into your…hearts."

A relief.

"You guys ROCK!" Amethyst squealed. "Are you, like, a band or something?"

"In a sense," Yzma replied.

"Okay, our turn!" Amethyst urged. "Greg! Theme song time!"

"Now?" Greg replied. "But that only works with Steven here."

"Well, you can do his part!" Amethyst told him. "Come onnnn, we gotta show these guys up!"

"It isn't a competition," Garnet said, "and yet it is one we must win all the same."

"Well, all right!" Greg strummed another chord. His next note warbled: "We…"

"Are the Crystal Gems!" the three Gems sang as one. "We'll always save the day!"

"And if you think we can't – " Greg sang.

"We'll always find a way!" the Gems chorused. "That's why the people of this world believe in – "

Each Gem then sang out her own name:

"Garnet – "

"Amethyst – "

"And Pearl – "

"And Steven!" Greg finished. "…Or, you know, Greg!"

"Hrm…perhaps we should get a theme song," Peter muttered.

"What's the team name?" Garfield asked him.

"I – " Peter suddenly winced, as though he'd been run through with a longsword. "We…don't have one."

"Seriously?" Garfield groaned. "SERIOUSLY? YOU HAVEN'T COME UP WITH A TEAM NAME BY NOW?"

"I've had a lot on my mind."

"Well, we're fixing that," Garfield decided. "Open for suggestions!"

"The Angry Geese," Irmaplotz suggested.

"No," Garfield shot down.

"The Lapidaries," Wuya threw in. "You know, the people who – "

Garfield knew. "Closed for suggestions. We're the Lapidaries."

"How did that catchy song go, again?" Yzma asked. "Not that we're wanting to simply plagiarize it with our own team name substituted in for yours, of course."

"So yours would probably go something like…" Greg picked at the guitar strings. "We…are the Lapidaries!"

"We'll always win the fight!" Yzma crowed. "And if you think we can't – "

"We'll prove that you're not right!" Zevon added.

"And then," Yzma muttered, "we've got to end it on 'Zevon,' to keep the rhyme where you had 'Steven.' So: that's why the people who follow us believe in…" She began to count off her fingers. "Yzma, Wuya, Jack, Draco, Irmaplotz, and – and that doesn't leave room for two of the names. Hang on. That's why the people who follow us believe in…Yzma, Wuya, Peter, Gar, Jack – no, that won't work either. Yzma, Wuya, Spicer, Zevon, Peter – no, wait, Zevon has to go LAST. YzmaWuyaGarfieldPeterIrmaplotzJackDraco and Zevon! …All-inclusive; sounds like a mess."

"This is gonna be a while, isn't it?" Amethyst sighed. "We need some snacks out here while we wait."

"I can go and prepare some!" Pearl rose. "Any requests?"

"Tabasco popcorn," Jack said without thinking.

"Um…okay," Pearl replied. "I'll be right back."

And she set off briskly for the beach house embedded in the temple.

"Wuya, dear," Yzma told the Heylin witch, "would you mind taking over attempting to combine our names for a moment?"

"Working on it." Wuya was writing out syllables in the sand to arrange.

Yzma then leaned over to Zevon; "Ahem."

Zevon was watching Wuya intently.

"MM-HMM," Yzma uttered louder.

"Do you requirify a drink of water?" Zevon asked.

"Ggguuuuggghhhhh…" Yzma began to make a frantic series of hand gestures, ending in pointing directly at the house.

"I shall go tell Pearl to bring you water from that house!" Zevon proclaimed.

Yzma seized her son's arm, pulling him close enough that she could hiss into his ear; "The Pearl is alone! Take her down and figure out if she's the one!"

"OH!" Zevon immediately sprang to his feet. "I AM GOING TO THE HOUSE TO FETCH A GLASS OF WATER FOR MY MOTHER! I WILL RETURN SHORTLY!"

And then he sprinted away.

Inside the house, Pearl was examining a bottle of Tabasco sauce. "I just don't know," she muttered to herself. "Amethyst usually just drinks this straight out of the bottle, so I thought it was a beverage. But apparently it goes on popcorn."

Zevon kicked in the door; "AHA!"

"Oh, Zevon!" Pearl greeted, clasping her hands. "Perhaps you can help me. I have a culinary question!"

"And I have a question for YOU!" Zevon replied, extending his hand. "Except it isn't a question! IT'S A WEAPON!"

In a rush, his Corona-tipped staff appeared in his hand – a handy little carrying enchantment that the lab had worked up to accompany the folding technology that kept Yzma's hammer portable.

"Oh, that is a lovely weapon!" Pearl complimented. "Is that for your L.A.R.P.?"

"NO!" Zevon crowed. "IT IS FOR YOUR DOOM! ZA-ZAM!"

And a beam of potent magic surged from the staff into Pearl, promptly disintegrating her physical form in a puff. Only the rounded pearl from her forehead clacked onto the floor.

"Now, let's see…" Zevon traded staff for compass. "Are you the Pearl I have been soughtening?"

He placed the compass on the floor so that its needle pointed directly at the core of Pearl. Then rolled the gem around the perimeter of the compass.

The needle stayed perfectly stationary.

"NO!" he growled. "YOU'RE NOT THE ONE!" He stood, giving the pearl a hard kick; "AGH!"

The stone bounced off a wall and fell behind a couch.

Of course, Zevon knew she would be reformed and on her feet in a matter of hours. Minutes, if she were strong enough, but Zevon doubted that. He had half a mind to finish her off by shattering the stone, but then realized he was simply too lazy to care.

So he threw the door to the house open and stormed back to the beach.

"Okay, I've got it," Wuya was stating. "Wuya, Yzma, aaaaand the rest, and Zevon!"

This earned her several groans.

"Well, I like it!" Yzma said with a shrug.

Zevon plunked down at his mother's side. "Oh, Zevon!" Yzma asked. "Did you get me the, er, GLASS OF WATER?"

"No," Zevon muttered. "It wasn't the right one."

"Oh, dear," Yzma sighed. "I suppose we'll have to try again, then. Shall we be on our way?"

Zevon looked around at his fellow Lapidaries. All so relaxed. Smiling. Even Draco had loosened up a bit. He couldn't end it here and now.

"You spoke earlier of an athletical beleaguing," Zevon reminded Greg, Garnet, and Amethyst.

"What, the volleyball league?" Amethyst realized.

"YES!" Zevon replied. "PRECISIONLY!"

"You want to set up a game," Garnet stated. Not asked; stated.

"AT ONCE!" Zevon proclaimed.

"I'll go get the net!" Amethyst yelped, leaping to her feet.

"I'll find the ball," Garnet said as she rose gracefully.

"Pearl just better hurry up with that popcorn," Amethyst groaned as she set off.

As the simple volleyball court was erected, all of the Lapidaries were in a silent agreement that they could afford to waste this time. After all, if Pearl hadn't reformed yet, she wouldn't be on her feet for another few hours at least. And as far as they knew, they didn't have anyone else competing with them for their goal.

...

The Joker's next stop was the kitchen, where a lot of blood was flowing across the hard stone floor. "Did you set up a massacre and forget to invite me?" he asked the only occupant.

"Hardly," Scar replied. "This was merely an attempt to prepare what was already slain." As proof, a slab of meat that had definitely come from some sort of cattle lay on the floor before him, torn open by his claws: the source of the blood.

"Aww, how disappointing," Joker sighed. "Well, at least you're settling in."

"I suppose," Scar replied dryly.

"If you don't mind me asking," Joker prompted, "what do you think of our roommates?"

"Ursula is esteemed for a reason," Scar stated. "You're only sufferable because I'm used to being in the company of hyenas."

"Fair point. But what about the other two?"

In his jacket pocket, his finger hovered over the recorder's button.

"In the best interest of diplomacy," Scar replied, "I'd rather not say."

"Ohhh, come onnnn!" Joker urged. "It's not like it'll do any harm. After all, if I go blabbing, it'll just be – " He had to stifle a giggle. "Your word against mine!"

After a long silence, Scar said, "Very well."

Click.

"I simply wonder who our esteemed Ozai even believes he is," Scar admitted. "If you'll pardon a crude expression, he acts as though his dung is odorless. Why, if his nose were any further up in the air, he'd simply drown when the rains came."

"I seeeeee," Joker replied. "And of Zurg?"

"I rather like him."

"Completely and truly? Not a gripe to be had?"

Another long pause. Then Scar said quite dryly, "However, on the subject of the incompetent – "

"Oh, do tell."

"Apparently Zurg has attempted and failed to conquer his territory multiple times," Scar stated. "I do believe the short stint I was in power lasted double any of his conquests. I wonder why he continues to bother, rather than finding a hobby or perhaps a lioness."

"Well, I hear he's otherwise taken by that Darkmatter fellow," Joker brought up.

"One would think that would have helped him to accumulate some success," Scar stated. "And yet it seems the reverse effect is taking place. Zurg's idiocy bleeds into Warp."

"Fascinating!" Joker cried, clicking the recorder off. "Oh, don't worry, Scar. This stays between you and me!"

"And you?" Scar asked. "What do you think of them?"

"Oh," Joker chuckled as he turned on a heel to begin skipping away, "I think any moment now, working with you all is going to become a HOOT!"

...

Flurious had eaten all of the rainbow-sprinkled donut holes and Demyx wasn't happy about it.

"Glorious," Flurious muttered as the Overtaker contingent tread the path down to the temple on the beach. "I can feel my stamina increasing, my aura solidifying with the ingestion of the holy food!"

"I can feel my tongue being angry because it wanted rainbow sprinkles," Demyx grumbled.

"Oh, be quiet already," Gothel groaned. "Too much of those are bad for you, you know. Could you eat something healthy for once in your life?"

"Excuse me?" Demyx snapped back. "You're not my mom. You shouldn't be anybody's mom!"

"Should we put a stop to this?" Grimhilde asked Doom as they brought up the rear.

"Would it do any good to us?" Doom replied.

"Perhaps not."

"GUYS," Hans broke in. "Look."

He gestured ahead to where three people were playing volleyball out front of the temple: Garnet on one side of the net and Amethyst and Greg on the other. Garnet was clearly winning, spiking the ball deep into the sands between her two opponents.

"Think they know where our targets went?" Hans asked.

"I mean…" Demyx gestured to the sand. "That is way too many footprints for three people, so I'm guessing they had some other players in their game."

Doom nodded; "I was about to note the very same thing. Well done."

"Did you actually COMPLIMENT me?" Demyx gaped. "Forget Gothel being my mom! I want Doom to be my dad!"

"Oh, so now I'm the bad guy again," Gothel groaned.

"We all are," Hans said dryly. "We are literally all bad guys."

"Some of us are bad women," Grimhilde corrected.

"Okay, now you're just mincing words to spite me," Hans sighed.

"Let's see…" Demyx knelt where they tread on the path. "Looks kinda disturbed. Maybe like they came this way before us." He placed a hand on the sand only to immediately withdraw it; "YEOWCH!"

"Hey!" Hans was suddenly at his side, watching him flail the offended hand about. "You okay?"

"Yeah," Demyx told him, conjuring up a small sphere of healing water around the hand. "That sand is WAY too hot, though. …Weirdly hot. I don't think it's supposed to get like that in the sun."

"Recall the profiles of those we faced at Asgard," Doom realized. "Garfield Lynns still emits a high amount of non-radioactive heat. Were he to wear sandals or no shoes at all here, his imprint would still be felt."

Gothel smirked. "I think we just found our next lead."

In an instant, Flurious had Thunder Edge in hand. "Then I shall draw the confession from them by force!"

"Whoa, whoa, whoa!" Hans put up his hands, palms outward, to Flurious. "We can't just run in there screaming with our weapons out! What kind of idiots would do that? We have to play this smart."

"I agree," Doom stated. "Gothel, Hans, and Demyx are all skilled at the art of deception and gathering information. Flurious, Grimhilde, we shall hang back and let them take the lead."

Grimhilde gave a dissatisfied sniff; "I, too, am deceptive."

"I am aware," Doom told her, "but we have no time to brew a potion or concoct a scheme of your caliber. This must be quick and efficient. Your arts will likely be of use to us once we locate the targets."

"Heh." Demyx smirked. "For once, you picked the right guy for this one."

"I suppose I could turn on the charm," Gothel added.

"Let's go," Hans urged, and the three of them made up the front line, smiling pleasantly.

Amethyst let out a grunt as the volleyball smacked her in the head. "When's Pearl coming back with those snacks?" she moaned. "This isn't fair! We need her on our side to beat Garnet!"

"You'd need more than Pearl to do that," Garnet said stoically. "…Not to brag."

"Hey, guys!" Demyx waved as he and his co-manipulators approached; Flurious, Doom, and Grimhilde simmered behind like a burgeoning storm. "Ooh, ouch, you're losing pretty bad, huh?"

"Been there," Hans added. "Admittedly on the side that was doing the winning, but still."

"Huh?" Amethyst, Garnet, and Greg turned to regard the strangers.

"All the same, you look like you're having fun," Gothel said, "and in the end, that's all that matters. …Hahaha, oh, you didn't BELIEVE that, did you? Winning is everything."

"UH, YEAH!" Amethyst asserted. "AND GREG AND I ARE NOT DOING IT!"

"I'm trying my best!" Greg argued.

"You look like you could use an extra hand or two," Hans noted. "Mind if we cut in?"

"That is TOTALLY cool," Amethyst told him. "Wait. You don't totally tank at volleyball, do you?"

"No," Hans replied.

"Okay, good. Then you're in."

As Hans took his place alongside his new teammates, he remarked, "This would be even more fun if I could find my other friends, but turns out, in a city this size, we just keep missing each other."

The game began, and Greg set the ball into the air; "That's too bad. I'm sure you'll run into them eventually."

"You haven't seen them around, have you?" Hans asked. "The ringleader is an older woman, wearing a lot of purple and glitter."

"Yeah, we saw her!" Greg realized.

"She and her friends joined us for a KILLER sing-along," Amethyst related.

"And where did they go?" Hans asked. "We really need to make this meetup."

"They went – " Amethyst began.

But Garnet, feeling the edges of her future vision begin to twitch, broke in; "Somewhere else. Right now, we've a game to finish."

"…Riiiiight," Hans sighed.

And that was when the ball hit him in the face.

"DUDE!" Amethyst collapsed laughing. "I thought you were GOOD at this game!"

Hans fired a desperate look over to Demyx and Gothel. They both read it perfectly: the tall Gem was actively trying to block their information route for whatever reason. Where could they take the conversation from here to gain trust?

"I'm going to check on Pearl," Garnet stated as she walked away. "Don't say anything I wouldn't say."

"Garnet?" Greg called after her. "We barely started the game!"

"Halftime break," Garnet said simply as she strode off.

"It's not even – " Greg sighed. "Okay."

"You were saying something?" Gothel prompted. "About our friend?"

"Uhhh…about that…" Amethyst was attempting to decrypt Garnet's warning. She'd picked up the hints as well. "I might not actually know where she went. It was more of a guess."

The others all picked up on that particular chess move. So Demyx, having scanned the field to find a conversation topic, shifted the tide. "Whose is that?" he asked, pointing to Greg's guitar.

"Mine," Greg told him.

"You play?" Demyx asked.

"Yeah, I play!" Greg replied. "What about you?"

"I play…something a little different," Demyx told him. "Check this out."

In a rush of bubbles, he summoned up the blue sitar.

"Whoa!" Greg gasped. "I haven't seen one of those in forever!"

"…I'm surprised you've seen one of these AT ALL," Demyx replied.

"So what songs do you know?" Greg asked.

"Heh…" Demyx found himself smiling in a way that wasn't totally a smirk, but neither was it genuine. "Wanna hear one of my faves?"

"Sure!"

And so he began to play: a haunting, sprightly intro that seemed to hide a misery beneath its upbeat tone. "There's such a sad love," Demyx crooned, "deep in your eyes. A kind of pale jewel, open and closed within your eyes…I'll place the sky within your eyes. There's such a fooled heart, beating so fast in search of new dreams, a love that will last. Within your heart, I'll place the moon within your heart."

"How does he know this?" Gothel asked Hans.

Hans recognized the tune. "It's personal for him," he answered. "I don't think he'd want me to say."

"Oh, so he gets his backstory kept respectfully hidden, and I don't?"

"Yeah. He does."

Demyx played the song to conclusion, singing ever more softly, "Falling in love…falling in love." The last string was plucked, echoing as sitars do, leaving the final note vibrating over the beach.

"DUUUUUUDE!" Amethyst yelled. "THAT WAS SO AWESOME! But, uh, how'd you pull that thing outta nowhere?" She gasped; "ARE YOU HALF GEM?"

"No offense," Greg brought up, "but I was already wondering that about…" His gaze drifted to Flurious.

"Huh," Amethyst said with a shrug. "Thought he was a pure Quartz like me, but I've never seen one who's actually a dude before. Not that there's anything wrong with that, bro! It's totally cool."

"I am no mere QUARTZ – " Flurious attempted.

"He is a Dumortierite Quartz," Doom broke in. "A special class of Quartz."

"Oh, yeah," Amethyst said in understanding. "Blue's snobby elites."

"SNOBBY?" Flurious repeated.

"Calm yourself," Grimhilde cautioned.

"Then you've gotta be a half-Lapis," Amethyst told Demyx. "All the water when you called up your weapon. Weeeeiiiiird. I thought Rose – Pink – whatever was the only person to ever do that. Did you use to be a Diamond too or – "

"Whoa, whoa!" Demyx interrupted. "This is getting a little too personal!" And also full of terms he had no idea the meaning of outside of picturing literal rocks.

"DON'T TRUST THEM!" Garnet skidded protectively in front of Amethyst and Greg, arms outstretched – one hand clutching a shining, round object.

"Is that PEARL?" Amethyst gasped.

"What HAPPENED?" Greg cried in horror.

"They're liars," Garnet growled. "Zevon did something to Pearl when he followed her into the house to get that glass of water. If I'd just looked further into his future – "

"You know what?" Amethyst told Hans with a glare. "If those were YOUR friends, I don't think we want anything to do with you."

She reached for the gem embedded in her chest, ready to draw her weapon.

"I see the game has changed," Grimhilde observed.

But Garnet stopped Amethyst's hand with one of her own. "No," she said. "We shouldn't deal with them. Sugilite should."

"I'm, uh…I'm just gonna head on back up to the house," Greg said nervously. "I'll take Pearl for safekeeping."

Garnet passed their friend's core to Greg, who rushed her back to the temple.

"Okay," Hans sighed, "there's been a big misunderstanding. See, we don't ACTUALLY like those people. They're kind of our worst enemies."

"We were never looking for them to spend time with them!" Gothel tittered. "We were trying to find them to END them! Isn't that just hilarious?"

"No time for any more lies," Garnet growled. She and Amethyst joined hands, performing a dual spin, and suddenly, there was no Garnet, there was no Amethyst – in a fluctuating light, there solidified someone much larger.

Four arms. A wave of wild hair. A mouth full of pointed fangs. Five eyes now, hidden behind a more stylish pair of violet sunglasses.

"So you wanna pick on my friend, huh?" Sugilite growled. She threw up two hands; a pair of gauntlets clapped together in the sky, then fused together into a bludgeon attached to the end of a long whip.

"SEE WHERE YOUR 'MANIPULATIVE' APPROACH GOT US?" Flurious yelled. "NOW, THANKS TO YOUR LIES, WE ARE BEING UNDULY ATTACKED!"

Hans, Demyx, and Gothel exchanged glances.

"…I can see where we might've gone wrong here," Hans admitted.

"But now, it is time for brute force to win the day." Flurious withdrew Thunder Edge. "FOR I HAVE THE POWER OF THE MOTHER GODDESS AND THE HOLY DONUTS ON MY SIDE!"

With a roar, he leapt into the fray, sword blazing.

The fight was over almost as soon as it had begun. A ruby, a sapphire, and an amethyst hit the sand at spread-out intervals.

"Too much work to find them," Flurious grunted as he sheathed the glaive. "That job will have to remain unfinished."

"However," Doom realized, "if Garfield Lynns has passed through here in immodest shoes…it will not be difficult to trace his path."

"Allow me," Flurious suggested. "After all, I'm rather sensitive to the heat."

"You think he'd just die if the weather suddenly turned to hot?" Demyx whispered to Hans.

"I HEARD THAT, AND NO!" Flurious bellowed. "NOW FOLLOW ME!"

He led the way off the beach, the somber trio of liars tagging along behind. And yet again in the rear, Grimhilde whispered to Doom, "Perhaps he is more than just bluster after all."

"At the very least," Doom replied, "there is a time for diplomacy…and a time for belligerence. I suspect both will need to come into play before this ends."

...

The trek up to Omashu was a winding road on a dusty cliffside, but the vista of the great mountain city made it all worth it. The city, almost a mountain in itself, reminded Sora in appearance of Radiant Garden after the Restoration Committee had formed. Half of it seemed to be covered in metal, with protruding smokestacks. Yet the other half had gotten its steel peeled away, revealing a deep brown stone that seemed much more inviting.

"Did something happen here?" Sora asked.

"Yeah," Aang related. "Ozai conquered Omashu and covered it all in metal so the earthbenders wouldn't be able to earthbend anymore. But King Bumi, who, not to brag, happens to be a close personal friend of mine, used the power of neutral jing to wait for the right time to take back the city, and now that Toph invented metalbending, the earthbenders are able to start putting Omashu back the way they wanted it."

"Neutral…jing?" Sora asked.

"Jing is a way to direct your chi in battle," Aang told him. "…You do know what chi is, right?"

"Oh, yeah!" Sora nodded. "Yen Sid explained it."

"Well, there's positive jing," Aang told him, "which is when you express it aggressively, like in fighting."

"'Kay," Sora replied. "I like that one. What else?"

"Negative jing is more like when you avoid conflict," Aang went on, "either by finding another way to the goal or by using evasion in battle."

"Oh, so like a Dodge Roll!" Sora realized.

"It sounds like the best way to win a fight is to use a combination of the two," Aqua observed. "That's why I always put so much practice into developing my deflection shields. Unlike some Keybearers I studied with."

"Heyyyy!" Ven groaned; Aqua ruffled his hair.

"But…you mentioned a neutral jing," Sora recalled. "What's that one do?"

"Basically, it's when you do nothing," Aang explained.

"Now, that sounds like my kind of jing!" XR proclaimed.

"But it's more complicated than that," Aang went on. "Neutral jing is about when you don't do anything because it's not the right time to do anything. And if you pay attention, you'll figure out what to do and when to do it."

"That sounds very wise," Rosalina commented.

"You know," Sora told her, "you always talk about feeling bad that you didn't get involved in all this until just now. But what if it wasn't the right time? What if you were just using your neutral jing?"

"I don't think – " Rosalina began.

"I may not have known you that long," Aqua broke in, "but I know you mean the best, and you aren't a coward. You have a lot to keep an eye on. I don't blame you for taking a step back to make sure your eye was on all of it."

"Why…thank you." Rosalina smiled softly, and anyone who looked might have caught how she was faintly blushing beneath her curtain of blonde bangs.

"YOUR BROTHER IS HERE?" Papyrus asked Katara.

"Yeah," Katara replied. "He and the Kyoshi Warriors are working together to figure out if there's any hostile Ozai loyalist activity in the city and shut it all down."

"THAT SOUNDS VERY GOOD!" Papyrus told her. "AFTER ALL, IT WOULDN'T DO TO HAVE A BUNCH OF VILLAINS WALKING AROUND! SUCH PEOPLE MUST BE DEFEATED!"

"Defeated how?" Ven asked.

"That's the complicated part," Aang sighed. "There's really only so much we can do. I thought it was wonderful that the Kyoshi Warriors were tearing down the Ozai symbolism that was being put up in the streets and dispelling the rallies, but…"

"But changing the way people think is something different," Katara chimed in. "We can take away their symbols and the platforms they use to convince other people that they're right. But if someone really feels a lot of hatred…you can't just get rid of that. There are always going to be people who think the Earth Kingdom should've gotten wiped out, and 'defeating' them isn't the answer, because what will that really change?"

"Couldn't you lock them up?" Sora asked.

"The ones who commit hate crimes," Katara clarified. "Not so much the ones who just…hate without doing any crime."

"BUT THAT'S WHY YOU MUST DEFEAT THEM IN A FAIR BATTLE!" Papyrus argued. "BECAUSE ONCE THEY LOSE, BOTH PARTIES CAN LAUGH ABOUT IT AND THEN TALK ABOUT WHY THEY SEE THINGS SO DIFFERENTLY! ONCE YOU GET OVER YOUR DIFFERENCES AND FIGURE OUT HOW TO SHOW PEOPLE THAT LOVE IS BETTER THAN HATE, THEN YOU CAN BECOME FRIENDS!"

"I wish it was that easy," Aang sighed.

"Papyrus," Katara told the skeleton, "I love that you're so optimistic, and I hope that never changes about you. But…sometimes, the real world isn't like what you hope it could be."

"…I TRY NOT TO THINK ABOUT THAT," Papyrus admitted, and Sora knew exactly what he meant. They hadn't checked in on his homeworld in a while. Probably for a less-than-logical reason. Papyrus was afraid to know what had become of his friends after the WHAM ARMY had encouraged the divide. "WHAT'S THE POINT OF ACCEPTING DEFEAT, ANYWAY, UNLESS IT IS TO START DOWN A NEW AND BETTER PATH?"

"Because sometimes," Ven sighed, "the worlds just stack everything against you. I always thought getting to leave home would be a wonderful adventure, and in some ways, it was. But in other ways, it was terrifying. I found out I had the power to destroy the entire multiverse in me. Everywhere I went, evil followed. By the end of it, I was wishing I could just give up. Put an end to it so no one else had to suffer because of me. But maybe even because I didn't wanna suffer anym – "

"NO!" Papyrus shrieked, suddenly turning to seize Ven's forearms in his gloved hands. "DON'T YOU EVER SAY THAT! DON'T YOU EVER THINK LIKE THAT AGAIN! IF YOU DO, YOU COME RIGHT TO ME, IS THAT CLEAR? THESE WORLDS NEED YOU! THERE'S GOOD IN THEM THAT'S WAITING FOR YOU! AND IF YOU WERE GONE – THEN A LOT OF PEOPLE, INCLUDING ME, WOULD BE INCREDIBLY SAD! I THINK I'D RATHER HAVE THE MULTIVERSE DESTROYED THAN THAT!"

Ven realized he'd probably overshared. "It's fine now," he said softly, smiling. "That was a long time ago, before I took a long nap to clear my head. And things have been a lot better. I do think maybe your priorities are a little out of order…but you're right. There is a lot of good that's worth living for, and I wanna be there for my friends. Like you. I guess I said a little too much. All I really meant was that sometimes being optimistic and hopeful doesn't work out, no matter how hard you try."

"HAVE YOU REALLY GIVEN UP TRYING?" Papyrus asked.

"No," Ven admitted. "I just…know there are gonna be times when it won't work."

Papyrus thought it over. "I KNOW! WHY DON'T YOU LET ME BE OPTIMISTIC FOR YOU, INSTEAD?"

"What?"

"IF YOU CAN'T BE OPTIMISTIC AND IT ISN'T WORKING, THEN JUST LET ME DO IT. I'LL FIND A HAPPY ENDING IN YOUR STORY, AND THEN I'LL HELP GET YOU TO IT, BECAUSE I'M JUST THAT AWESOME!"

Ven found himself chuckling – not mockingly, but almost flustered. "Thanks, Papyrus. I'll remember that. I just don't wanna make you work so hard just because of – "

"DON'T. SAY. IT. I'M DOING IT BECAUSE I WANT TO. UNDERSTAND?"

Ven's smile grew broader. "Yeah."

"And Ven," Aqua chipped in, "I know I wasn't the best at listening to you and figuring out what you needed in the past…but I'm committed to trying again. I'm sorry it went past me before, but now, I'll do whatever it takes to help you."

"Thanks, Aqua," Ven replied. "And this time, I'll listen to you, too."

"You know," XR groaned, "I was trying to avoid the cliché, I REALLY was, but with this sudden onslaught of mush and sap and feelings, I find myself driven to the edge and in a need to say ARE WE THERE YET?"

"Almost," Katara said with a grin. "The gates are just up ahead!" She broke into a run. "Let's go!"

The others followed. There was admittedly one change the Fire Nation had made to Omashu that the earthbenders had found worth keeping. Formerly, the earthen walls of the city were sealed off, requiring an earthbender's skill to open the stone. The Fire Nation under Ozai's rule had installed a metal gate to allow anyone to come and go. When Bumi had ascended once more, he figured that in the spirit of showing Ozai and his followers how division wasn't the answer, he would leave the gate open, letting Fire Nation, Water Tribe, and the single Air Nomad into and out of the city at their own will – not to colonize, but to mingle and to trade. Not to mention that turning one of Ozai's innovations to backfire on his philosophy was the exact sort of spiteful irony Bumi enjoyed.

As such, entering the city was easier than before. Once inside, the group could see that they were on a mid-level, with city extending above in a peak and below in a valley.

"Whoa…" Sora gasped.

"It's beautiful," Ven agreed.

"Eh, I've seen better," XR dismissed.

"WHAT ARE THOSE?" Papyrus pointed to the stone chutes that traveled through the city.

"That's the delivery system!" Aang cried. "I'm glad they got it back up and running! The earthbenders move the stone carts through the ramps to get them to the upper levels, but then let them fall on their own to get down below!"

"All right, I'll admit THAT'S innovative," XR stated. Then, in a mutter, "If primitive."

He was met with toxic glares from Aang and Katara. They'd heard.

"Did I say 'primitive'?" XR placed his hands behind his back, giving them a guilty grin. "I meant 'rustic.'"

"Just ignore him," Aqua advised.

"Probably for the best," Katara agreed. "You know…I kind of miss when we first came here and you thought we should use the delivery chutes to travel through the city."

"That was fun, wasn't it?" Aang recalled. "We could do it again!" He gasped. "We SHOULD do it again!"

"Riding in a system made for inanimate cargo?" Aqua flinched. "That sounds dangerous."

"I wanna do it!" Sora cried excitedly.

"REALLY, WHAT'S THE WORST THAT COULD HAPPEN?" Papyrus posed. "WE ALL WIELD SOME SORT OF FAILSAFE POWER OR ANOTHER THAT INCREASES OUR RESILIENCE."

"I dunno…" Ven looked out over the maze of chutes. "It does look…kinda scary. But maybe that's a reason to try it. To remember that some of the scary things out there are actually okay."

"Question," XR broke in. "Would this mode of transport be, technically, legal?"

"Uhhhhhh…" Aang glanced askance.

"With an answer like that, I'm in," XR declared.

"WE SHOULD DO IT!" Sora emphasized.

"Uh…" Aqua wasn't sure how to respond.

"You don't have to," Rosalina told her. "It's all right to be afraid. We'll just meet you at the lower market."

"Thank – " Aqua began. Then she really heard what Rosalina had been saying. "Wait. 'We'?"

"I would like to give it a try," Rosalina giggled. "It looks like fun. In fact…I think we should make a race of it."

"YEAH!" Aang crowed.

"YOU'RE ON!" Sora added.

"I MEAN, YOU WON'T BEAT ME," Papyrus broke in, "BUT IF TRYING FUTILELY TO DO SO IS FUN FOR YOU…"

"Um." Aqua gave an awkward shrug. "Actually, if all of you think it's really that good of an idea…maybe it's worth a try?"

"You really don't have to," Rosalina told her contentedly.

"But I might want to," Aqua muttered.

"Then you should," Rosalina said with a nod.

"We should get into teams!" Aang decided. "The carts move faster with at least two people in them. I get to be with Katara!"

"Just like old times!" Katara beamed, and Papyrus couldn't help but notice this was the first time that she'd really seemed comfortable around Aang.

"I think I want Aqua on my team," Rosalina stated with a sweet smile.

"I – yeah!" Aqua sputtered. "That sounds – that sounds good."

"Whaddaya say, Papyrus?" Ven asked. "Should we team up?"

"BUT OF COURSE!" Papyrus declared. "WITH YOU AT MY SIDE, WE WILL WIN EVEN MORE FLAWLESSLY!"

"That leaves you and me, XR," Sora said with a swing of his fist.

"It's like I'm a magnet for the young, purehearted, and naïve types," XR observed. "All right, but I will inform you off the bat, I am entering this race to WIN."

"So am I!" Sora asserted.

"Let's split up!" Aang cried, and the four teams did exactly that.

They located four carts, each at the beginning of a different ramp. There was no way to judge from visuals alone whether the ramps were of equal length or difficulty to traverse: only blind trust.

"I missed this," Katara admitted as she and Aang clambered into their cart. "I missed you."

"I did, too," Aang told her. "But we went over that already, remember?"

It really was the most comfortable she'd felt with him since returning to their world. "I just…felt the need to say it again," she stated. "Remember how our first ride on this was a total disaster?"

"I'm surprised you actually wanted to try it again," Aang admitted.

"It's kind of one of my favorite memories," Katara told him. "Back when we were…starting out."

Then she realized.

But it was too late to do anything about it now, because the racers were signaling each other from across their respective tracks.

"EVERYBODY READY?" Sora yelled. "GET SET…"

Aang braced himself behind Katara, blissfully unaware of the weight settling into her stomach.

Papyrus' grip tightened on the front of his cart, with Ven behind.

Aqua realized, sitting behind Rosalina, that it was her last chance to back out. And yet something stopped her from doing so.

XR leaned back in his space behind Sora, placing both hands behind his helmet.

Then Sora yelled "GO!", and four carts carrying what was definitely not delivery cargo shot off to the depths of Omashu.

Aang and Katara's cart passed closest to Sora and XR's, and each party got a good look at the other as their carts fell in neck and neck.

"We're not gonna win this way!" XR growled. "Desperate times call for desperate measures."

"What's that mean?" Sora asked.

"It means we're going to cheat," XR told him.

"NO!" Sora growled. "We're not cheating!"

"Fine!" XR resolved. "WE'RE not cheating!" He smiled slyly. "But I am."

He flipped out of the cart, positioning himself to grip its rear bumper and blasting his thrusters full speed. The cart propelled away from Aang and Katara suddenly, Sora screaming in protest about how it wasn't fair to them.

"SERIOUSLY?" Katara cried. "You know, I have half a mind to cheat myself so we can put them in their place!"

"So do I," Aang realized, "and two half-minds is like a whole mind, right?"

"Uh…" Katara wasn't sure if she liked what she'd signed them up for.

Aang reached back, thrusting his hands to the rear of the cart. A gust of air propelled the cart forward suddenly – not as far as XR could get his and Sora's vehicle, but still a good distance.

"Zuko and I actually worked out a duo move to make vehicles work faster this way," Aang explained. "If you combine airbending and firebending, it propels things, and it also looks really cool."

Katara chuckled, picturing it. Picturing the easily-frustrated, level-headed Zuko trying to reason with Aang on this wild ride.

Then the cart came to a sudden stop, nearly throwing Aang and Katara out. They'd reached a checkpoint, at which an earthbender who worked parcel delivery glared down at both of them. "You're not cargo!" he growled.

"Uhhhhh…actually, we are?" Aang attempted.

"We're a special delivery for the lower market," Katara said without thinking.

"Oh?" the earthbender cocked an eyebrow. "Says who?"

"I'm the Avatar," Aang reminded him, "so, uh…says me?"

After some thought, the earthbender relented; "Okay."

And the cart was off again, but at a considerable disadvantage to Sora and XR.

Meanwhile, Papyrus had completely ruined his own cart's course. He'd simply thought he would look more dashing if he stood at the front, one foot planted up on the front lip of the cart, his tattered red cape billowing behind him.

And Ven, watching from behind, had to admit he did look more dashing that way for the all of two minutes they'd spent on track before the sudden unstable shift in weight caused the cart to slide right off the track and crash into the downward-sloping roof of a house.

"You'd better hold on," Rosalina had told Aqua when they'd set out, and Aqua, knowing but not fully processing what she'd meant, had wrapped her arms around Rosalina's waist. Then, once they'd begun to slide, Rosalina commanded, "Lean left!"

After doing so in unison, they slid perfectly into a curve, maintaining balance. After some time, Rosalina, observing the track ahead, commanded, "Lean right!", and the two women tilted as one, steering the cart the other direction to keep it on track.

"You've done this before, haven't you?" Aqua asked.

"I've raced go-karts a few times," Rosalina chuckled. As the cart hit a steeper incline, plunging them faster, she let out a subtle yet joyful "Woo-hoooooo!"

And Aqua had to admit she was having a lot of fun.

Until she heard the horrible screams of Ven and Papyrus coming from nearby, accompanied by the visual of the two of them sliding from one stone gable to another, completely off track.

"VEN!" Aqua cried. "We have to save him and Papyrus!"

"Hold on," Rosalina told her. "We're making a detour."

Meanwhile, Sora had simply accepted that XR wasn't going to play fair, and so he tried to just let go of his reservations and have fun with the ride. It worked for a while. Then came the sharp turn.

"Uh, XR?" Sora brought up. "Can we slow down?"

"Sure," XR replied, "if we wanna be LOSERS!"

"There's a turn up ahead!" Sora insisted. "If we hit it at this speed, we'll just fly off!"

"Oh, we'll be fine!" XR scoffed. "You think this is the first time I've done this! I'm a space ranger! Physics are my specialty!"

"XR," Sora yelled, "IREALLYTHINKWESHOULDSLOWDOWN – "

And the cart propelled right off the edge, missing the turn completely and falling over empty air.

"…Okay, this may be the first time I've done this," XR admitted before letting out a sharp shriek of terror, the cart plummeting so fast, his arms telescoped slightly, making his body fall at a five-second delay after the vehicle he was clamped to.

Meanwhile, Ven and Papyrus were on a wild ride from gable to gable. Papyrus had sat down properly, and now he and Ven were engaging in the time-honored coping mechanism of holding onto each other as tightly as they could for comfort while screaming bloody murder. The scenery flew by around them; they'd lost count of if the cart had plunged straight through the East window and out the West window of one apartment or two at this point.

"I'M SORRY, VEN!" Papyrus wailed. "I JUST WANTED TO LOOK COOL! I ONLY EVER WANTED TO LOOK COOL!"

"If this is it," Ven told him, "I want you to know you DID look really cool!"

But salvation was arriving from above; Rosalina had conjured a divergent path from the parcel chute, a road made out of all of the colors of the rainbow that slithered its way closer to Ven and Papyrus. Once the road was made, Rosalina made sure it was taken. She and Aqua raced to keep up, the makeshift rainbow road holding them safely in place.

"HANG ON, VEN!" Aqua yelled. Her Keyblade shimmered, twirled, fired a great light.

In an instant, the runaway cart was transformed, surrounded by hundreds of tiny lights that made up a greater form. A Splash Run Attraction Flow had forged itself around the cart, an airborne river bubbling up beneath it to begin to safely and fluidly transport the cart down to its destination.

"I'll help!" Rosalina declared, her wand twirling in the air twice before letting out a spell. A golden star – not a Luma, but a sort of facsimile – rocketed toward the Splash Run, hitting it.

Instantly, the star was absorbed, and Ven, Papyrus, and Splash Run began to strobe bright rainbow, invincible to all damage. In fact, when the Splash Run hit the next rooftop, the tiles took more damage than the cart beneath.

"They'll be safe," Rosalina assured Aqua. "The Super Star will last until they hit the lower level."

"And that Attraction Flow should give them a softer landing," Aqua sighed. "Thanks for that. That could've been bad."

"It was better that you thought quickly," Rosalina told her. "Ventus is lucky to have you looking after him."

Aqua wanted to ask about the rainbow road that she and Rosalina were still sliding down, and how Rosalina was able to keep up that magic, but she was interrupted by a loud "HEY!"

They turned to see Aang and Katara sliding by, keeping pace with their makeshift path. "SORA AND XR ARE CHEATING!" Katara yelled.

"YEAH!" Aang added, conveniently leaving out that he and Katara had also been cheating.

"Cheating, huh?" Aqua called back. "Rosalina…do you have any other tricks to punish cheaters?"

"As a matter of fact…" Rosalina smiled mischievously. In a shimmer, she conjured a particular item in her non-wand hand, letting it fly without even looking at where it was aimed. She didn't need to, with this particular toy.

Sora had followed a similar line of thinking as Aqua, not that he'd put much effort into it. Simply put, he panicked. His Keyblade appeared and flashed, and all of a sudden, the cart that carried him and XR was not a cart anymore but a sort of flying-saucer contraption with a simple laser gun affixed to the front. The Blaster Blaze soared smoothly through the air, a steering wheel forming for Sora to direct it.

XR settled in behind him; "Oh, now THIS is traveling in style! You know, I could almost see this as a theme park ride of some sort. You think I could license this as some sort of Buzz Lightyear Experience? Say we repackage it as a virtual reality, we call it 'Space Ranger Spin' – "

"XR!" Sora chided. "We're almost there!"

The lower market was in sight. The place where Sokka had written his last letter to say he would be waiting for Katara and the others.

"FIRST PLACE, BABY!" XR cheered. "Stick THAT in your carburetor and – "

Then Rosalina's Blue Koopa Shell smacked right into them, spinning them far off course.

"You know," the tall, lean Sokka explained to the lithe, agile Suki as they walked into the lower marketplace, "it'll be good to get a break from all this chaos. Maybe once we team back up with Aang, things will calm down for a while."

Then the Splash Run slammed down into the center of the marketplace, a tide of water washing over everything in sight to dissipate the Attraction.

And Aang and Katara's cart rammed the ground right beside it, the two of them leaping out and yelling, "SECOND PLACE!" before high-fiving.

And the rainbow guided Aqua and Rosalina's cart down on the other side in a shimmer of starry glitter.

And then all six went hurtling to get out of the way as the Blaster Blaze spun out of control and bowled all three carts aside, smacking them like balls on a pool table to impact three nearby vendor stalls. (Someone yelled a mournful lament about cabbages.)

"WHY DO I EVEN SAY THINGS?" Sokka yelled.

"I think you forgot who you were really dealing with," Suki told him.

"Okay, THAT was cheating!" Sora yelled as he and XR hopped out of the now-halted Blaster Blaze, which shimmered back to an ordinary cart.

"You started it," Aqua told him firmly.

"NO, I DIDN'T!" Sora pointed to XR. "HE DID!"

XR gave a dramatic gasp; "SORA! You're trying to pin this on your old pal XR? As though anyone would believe that a morally upstanding SPACE RANGER would do a thing like CHEATING!"

Katara, Aqua, and Rosalina all fixed him with annoyed glares.

"…In my defense, I'm off duty," XR muttered sheepishly.

"SOKKA!" Aang rushed to his old friend, wrapping him an an embrace that caught him off guard and made him stiffly flinch with a "guh!". "I missed you! How's your mission been here?"

"Oh, no big deal," Sokka replied. "Only, you know, CRUSHING THE REMAINDER OF THE FIRE NATION MILITANTS!"

"Not crushing," Suki corrected. "Shutting down."

"We went over the semantics earlier," Ven explained.

"You're Sokka?" Sora asked as Aang let the blue-clad boy go. "Oh! We have something that belongs to you!"

He brought it out from his pocket space, offering it on both outstretched hands. When Sokka observed the item, his jaw dropped, and his eyes watered.

"Space…Sword?" he whimpered as though seeing a long-lost lover return to him. "Is it really you?"

"I'm almost jealous," Suki teased, elbowing Sokka in the side.

"YEAH, SPACE SWORD!" Sokka quickly swiped the hilt of the weapon, holding it aloft so that its dark blade shimmered in the sunlight. "This ALMOST makes up for you destroying half the city we've been working so hard to put back together!"

"Excuse you," XR retorted, "but our little stunt there pried up more of that metal you're trying to peel off, so I'd say a YOU'RE WELCOME is in order."

"Metal," Sokka grumbled. "She invents metalbending, and then the ONE PLACE SHE DECIDES SHE DOESN'T WANNA GO – "

"You mean Toph?" Aang asked.

"No," Sokka said dryly. "I mean June the bounty hunter. OF COURSE I MEAN TOPH!"

"Well, we're going to find her next," Katara told him, "so if you wanna give her a piece of your mind…"

"What is this mission, anyway?" Suki asked. "Your letter was…vague."

"It's about something that's kinda hard to believe if you just see it in a letter," Sora explained. "We'll have to explain on the way."

"It's just gonna be great to have the gang back together!" Aang cried happily.

Aqua gave Suki a smile; "You must be Suki. I've heard a lot about you. Your friends say you're an impressive warrior."

"I'd like to think they're right," Suki replied. "What about you? You look like you've seen some fights."

"Have we ever," Ven groaned.

"Is this city going to be okay if you come with us?" Aqua asked.

"Don't worry," Suki told her. "If nothing else, Ty Lee is a one-woman army."

"But not as good as my girlfriend." Sokka wrapped an arm around Suki's waist, pulling her closer, eliciting a smile. "Have I mentioned this is my girlfriend? She's great."

"Stop," Suki laughed, not really wanting Sokka to stop talking her up.

"Oh, young love," XR sighed. "So fiery. So passionate. Destined to end in those same flames, of course, but – "

"HEY!" Sokka barked. "Suki and I are NOT gonna end in flames! I mean, for one thing, I'm WATER TRIBE and that doesn't GO with the AESTHETIC!"

"And neither are Katara and I!" Aang piped up. "We might be young, but we know what we're doing! We're gonna be together forever!"

"Aang…" Katara muttered.

She'd hoped it would be different. Or maybe the same as it had been, once. Riding the chutes with him again had reminded her of how wonderful it could be to be alongside him, to laugh and joke with him, to go along with his stupid stunts. She'd even been so happy to hear how he'd gotten on with Zuko in her absence.

Or maybe just relieved.

"Yeah!" Sora agreed. "Sometimes, you just KNOW. After you've been through so much together…"

"Katara's always been there," Aang asserted. "She was the one who found me. She's the most important person in my whole life."

"Aang, I don't know if that's – " Katara tried to break in.

"In fact," Aang said excitedly, "I'm pretty sure we're gonna end up married!"

"NO WE'RE NOT!"

Katara's shriek drew the attention of everyone. Rapt silence. All eyes on her.

"Katara?" Aang ventured. "Is everything okay?"

"No!" Katara cried, squeezing her eyes shut, shaking her head. "No, no, everything is NOT okay! We're not going to get married! I was trying to avoid this. Then I thought maybe I could fix this! But all this time we've spent apart made me realize I DON'T FEEL THAT WAY ABOUT YOU ANYMORE!"

She could hear Aang's gasp.

"I want something else." She pried her eyes open, looking at Aang mournfully. "I want what I had out there, at Radiant Garden. Fighting for what's right, confidence and pride – maybe even being actually swept off my feet!"

"But we fight for what's right," Aang reminded her. His tone hardened; "Didn't I sweep you off your feet?"

"I don't know!" Katara cried, flinging her arms outward. "It was hard to see through the way you BOTHERED ME UNTIL I SAID YES!"

This drew a chorus of gasps.

"I'm done," Katara said coldly. "Aang, I…I like you. This was fun, and it reminded me of why you're my friend. But I don't know which of my feelings are mine and which are yours anymore. I thought I did love you. Maybe I did, but things changed, okay? We're better off as friends than – "

"SAVE IT!" Aang yelled. "I waited for you! I'm always waiting for you! And you promised me this was what you wanted! But you lied to me, Katara! And now you're blaming me because you lied!"

"OH, I'M THE ONE WHO LIED?" Katara screamed. "MAYBE I LIED BECAUSE YOU DIDN'T LEAVE ME ANY OTHER CHOICE! I KNEW YOU'D REACT EXACTLY LIKE THIS! YOU WOULDN'T LISTEN TO ME! YOU'D JUST BE SELFISH AND IMMATURE!"

"YOU'RE MORE SELFISH!" Aang yelled back. "IF YOU DIDN'T FEEL THAT WAY ABOUT ME, WHY DIDN'T YOU TELL ME THE TRUTH FROM THE BEGINNING? IT'S NOT LIKE YOU HAVE A PROBLEM BEING TOO HONEST WITH EVERYBODY ELSE!"

"BECAUSE I CARE ABOUT YOU!"

"REALLY? OR DID YOU JUST WANNA SAVE YOURSELF THE EMBARRASSMENT?"

"UGH!" Katara spun on a heel, storming down a side street. "I NEED TO BE ALONE!"

"ME TOO!" Aang spat, propelling himself on an air burst to nest in an upper gable.

After a long silence, Papyrus admitted somberly, "I'M STARTING TO THINK GETTING HER TO ADMIT WHAT WAS WRONG WASN'T A GOOD IDEA, AFTER ALL."

...

Zurg was easy to locate. Somehow, Joker had the sense he would be in the armory, ranking weapons based on aesthetic-to-usefulness ratios, and he was absolutely correct on that one.

"No," Zurg grunted, tossing aside a bludgeon. "No." A sword. "No…no…no…too pointy…not pointy enough…WHEN IS THIS CIVILIZATION GOING TO INVENT CRYSTALLIC FUSION TECHNOLOGY? All right, we're putting that at the top of the to-do list: modernize Ba Sing Se. Then maybe we can get something DECENT in here."

"Why, helloooooooo!" Joker slipped in, sidling right up to Zurg, who regarded him as though he were a sewer rat crawled up to nibble on his robes. "Find anything nasty in here?"

"Maybe things YOU would like," Zurg huffed. "There's one of those pendulums back there that's shaped like two bladed fish-hooks welded together. That seems to be your brand of disturbed."

Joker curled his upper lip; "Really? Don't you understand by now? My style is black comedy! I'm not just going to throw a hooked pendulum at them and tear their guts out! How is that FUNNY?"

"I don't know," Zurg groaned. "You could make some sort of terrible pun, like 'I'm on tenterHOOKS to know what happens next!', and then throw the thing."

Joker let out a snicker; "Now, that's more like it! Not EXACTLY my brand, but we're getting there. Say, on the subject of brands, a man from an advanced technological culture such as yourself can't be all too thrilled to be working with our current housemates, can you?"

"Are you trying to get me to complain needlessly about Scar and Ozai?" Zurg asked with suspicion.

Joker put on his best innocent smile; "Whyever – "

"Because I've been waiting for an excuse to do that, you know."

"Oh!" Joker's grin changed form ever so slightly. It was definitely not innocent anymore. "By all means, go ahead! Let it all out!"

Click.

"So Ozai thinks he's some sort of über-powerful king, does he?" Zurg clenched his fists. "Well, what king gets beaten by a twelve-year-old kid and then loses his throne to his teenage son? Answer: an incompetent one. He can go around and act like I'm soooooooo far beneath him because I've failed so many times, but at least I've never lost my empire to a TWELVE-YEAR-OLD! Facts are facts!"

"Mmhmmm," Joker urged. "And of our other guest?"

"First of all," Zurg ranted, "there's that name. SCAR. Zero points for creativity with that one. How long did that one take to come up with? Actually, knowing him, probably a few weeks. Now, it's not considered proper etiquette to call people imbeciles, but lions are officially classified by the Galactic Alliance as animals, not people, so I'm going to say it: HE'S AN IMBECILE! …Though it's not like that classification would have stopped me anyway. Give me credit! At least I tried something new each time! But Scar? 'Ooh, hyenas, go kill Simba'! Not once, not twice, but THREE DIFFERENT TIMES! And did it work out for him? Take a guess! Here's a hint: Simba is the king of the Pride Lands, and Scar isn't!" He paused to take several deep breaths. "Oh, and also, he strikes me as the kind of person who will show up at your party, drink all of your drinks, play MMOs on your game console, blow all your money on character customization, and then go home without saying 'Thank you.'"

Click.

"Did you hear something click just now?" Zurg asked.

"No," Joker replied. "Did you?"

"Yes. That's why I asked."

"Well, I didn't."

"Hmm. All right, then." He waved Joker away. "You're dismissed now."

"I'm the one who came in here to talk to you!" Joker reminded him.

"And now you've served your purpose," Zurg assured him. "You may go. Do whatever it is you do in your spare time. I don't know, fill some water balloons with acid and make the guards start a fight outside or something."

Caught off guard, Joker broke into a raucous laugh; "Now THAT is my brand!"

He left the room guffawing for multiple reasons.

...

The garden had remained undisturbed for millennia. The only thing that had broken it down was time. Its once-bright verdure was now a sad tangle of dying vines, covering the broken stone structures that had lent it flavor.

Once upon a time, this had been a secret paradise for two best friends. A floating sanctuary in space, far away from Homeworld or any of its colonies. A place to stop being so serious. A place to forget about the wars and the politics and the chastising from the older Diamonds. A place to have fun and be silly.

Until one of them had declared the final game to be played, because she didn't want to just be fun and silly anymore. And the other hadn't realized.

Beneath the starlit darkness, a new figure, the first new pair of feet to tread upon this garden's tile for thousands of years, landed hard, his sapphire-toned metal boots creating a spiderweb crack in the stone path below.

In his quest to find the remaining Corona Aurora gems, Kamdor had found Pink Diamond's garden.

He hated it. He would've hated it if he had seen it in its full glory, and he hated it now. It had gone from garish to melancholy. "What an ugly place!" he growled. "Who would build this? I wouldn't be caught dead here if I weren't on a mission! Agree with me, Miratrix!"

And all of a sudden it hit him that Miratrix was still trapped inside of a crystal he'd chosen to be her prison and subsequently lost track of.

"NEVER MIND!" he yelled at the Miratrix who wasn't there. "It's not like I care about what you think anyway!"

He began to storm through the garden, seeking a communication terminal. This was Gem construction, which explained why he hated it. And anything that was Gem-built was linked to the system. That was how it worked. Even in secret paradises.

On the way, he passed the only other living entity in the entire garden: a pink Gem, just above half his height, hair pulled into heart-shaped pigtails to match the cut of the spinel set into her chest. At first, Kamdor had thought her part of the scenery. After all, she was unmoving. Not even blinking. Standing rod-straight and still, like a mannequin. But she was definitely alive and conscious. If she weren't, well, then she wouldn't be visible at all: just a rock on the ground.

"YOU!" Kamdor drew a sword and pointed it at the Spinel. "TELL ME THE CURRENT POLITICAL STATE OF THIS WORLD!"

The Spinel said nothing. Did nothing. Only carried out her last order, which couldn't be overruled by anyone else. That wasn't how the game worked.

"BE THAT WAY!" Kamdor yelled at her, storming around her to find what he was looking for: a pedestal flanked by four sharp-edged columns. He rushed to it, slammed both hands down upon it. "CONNECT ME TO HOMEWORLD!"

He'd been here before, but a long, long time ago. So long, he wasn't even sure what to expect now.

Though as he was directed to an informational Pearl seated at a reception desk surrounded by shades of blue, he realized he should've at least expected that. It was always routed through a Pearl. "How may I assist you?" she asked him.

"TELL ME OF THE POLITICAL STATE OF THE GALAXY!" Kamdor demanded, pointing to her image.

"That is complicated," the Pearl replied.

"So START AT THE BEGINNING!"

"When was your last date of record?"

Kamdor informed her.

"I see," the Pearl stated. Then, as though reading from a textbook: "Shortly after that date, Pink Diamond colonized Earth. In an act of rebellion, she falsified her own shattering, taking on the identity of a Rose Quartz that she proceeded to blame for the violent act. Pink Diamond Quartz went on to assemble a rebel group called the 'Crystal Gems' to stand against Blue, Yellow, and White Diamond. The Crystal Gems loosely colonized Earth, keeping it largely separate from the rest of the galaxy. Roughly a decade and a half ago, Pink Diamond engaged in an unprecedented act of physical intimacy with a human male in order to transfer her gem into a byproduct that is known as 'Steven Universe.' We have been informed that while Steven contains Pink's gem and what remains of her original form, he is an independent entity from Pink Diamond, who has permanently vanished. Steven engaged the other Diamonds in conflict until they reached an agreement to cease colonization and begin to dismantle the castes. Now Earth is seen as an outpost for those previously categorized 'Off-Color.'"

"Pink…is gone?"

It was a small, timid voice that echoed from behind Kamdor. He whirled, flinching, to see the Spinel finally in motion, turning to look back over at the communication pedestal.

"She said she would be back." Spinel struggled to pry up a shoe; she'd been standing in place so long, her feet had nearly melded to the ground. When she was at last able to take a step, then another step, she goaded the Pearl; "We were playing a game. She told me to stand still, and she'd be back. I haven't moved since she left. Is she…not coming back?"

"I DON'T CARE!" Kamdor yelled as he swiftly plunged both swords into the Spinel.

The heart-shaped stone smacked into the earth below.

"Hostile reported in Pink Diamond's garden," the Pearl called out loudly. "Hostile reported in – !"

Kamdor's blades then smashed the pedestal to pieces. "Can you believe this, Miratrix?" he asked.

But Miratrix was still imprisoned. He'd done it. And forgotten where he'd left her. Because he didn't care.

So he talked to himself instead: "They'll be sending a battalion from Homeworld any minute now, but it doesn't matter! I have all I need! Any Gem of the Corona Aurora would be categorized Off-Color immediately for not adhering to the Diamonds' stupid guidelines! She's on Earth! And I'm going to find her!"

He turned on a heel to storm away.

But found that way blocked.

The Spinel had risen. Kamdor had never seen a Gem regain form so quickly before. He expected the cupcake-sweet design of the Spinel to gel back into place just in time to annoy him again.

But as the gem turned upside-down, the heart inverted, Kamdor began to realize that the news of Pink Diamond's demise had not only accelerated this Spinel's reformation, but prompted a serious change.

She was barely recognizable as the same Gem from before. She was taller now, with longer limbs. Around the height of any sidekicks Kamdor might have had once but definitely didn't miss, actually. Her tone had become darker overall, all the whites in her clothing dimmed to black. The heart-shaped pigtails had exploded out into two wild mini-manes. Most strikingly, she now bore three dark lines running down each cheek – the pattern tears might make.

"So Pink Diamond thought I'd just sit here and play her little game while she ran off and died, did she?" Spinel growled with pure malice. "Oh, but it's all right! Because I'm her best friend, and of course she'll be back to get me! LIAAAAAAAAR!"

She hardly acted like the shrinking violet that Kamdor had disintegrated, either. Now, Kamdor was almost impressed. She was a creature of pure rage.

"I STOOD HERE FOR SIX THOUSAND YEARS!" Spinel shrieked. "I DIDN'T MOVE AN INCH! BECAUSE SHE TOLD ME NOT TO! WELL, I SEE HOW IT IS! SHE JUST DIDN'T HAVE ROOM IN HER REBELLION FOR A SILLY, CHILDISH, WACKY LITTLE FOOOOOOOL! WHO ARE THESE 'CRYSTAL GEMS,' ANYWAY? I NEVER MET THEM! I GAVE HER ALL THE FRIENDSHIP MY HEART COULD HOLD, AND SHE TRADED ME IN FOR A BUNCH! OF! NOBODIES!"

"You!" Kamdor realized. "You want REVENGE, don't you?"

"OF COURSE I DO!" Spinel roared, stamping her foot. "I want to tear her worthless NOWHERE ROCK OF A COLONY APART INTO A MILLION PIECES! I want to turn her friends into the DRONES they were probably meant to be! I was MADE to be her best friend; how could anyone replace that? And I want that – that THING – that STEVEN to SUFFER for TAKING HER AWAY FROM ME!"

"I also have business on that nowhere rock!" Kamdor informed her. "A Gem I need to capture is there!"

"Well, well, well, weeeeellllll," Spinel mused, smirking. "It looks like things just got interesting. You're no Gem…but you're certainly SOMETHING that will give Earth a lovely hello. Tell me…how much do you care about that waste of space?"

"I don't!" Kamdor replied. "I only want the Corona Aurora gem! Once I have it, Earth can rot!"

"Ohhh, I like that," Spinel told him. "Tell you what: why don't YOU be my new playmate for a while? The name of the game? DESTROY EARTH AND EVERYTHING PINK DIAMOND LEFT IN HER WAKE. Help me get my revenge, and I'll get you your Gem. Oh, don't worry. I don't care who or what she is. If she was one of Pink's new lackeys, you can take her as far away as you can get. Make sure no one ever sees her again!"

"I'll take you up on that deal!" Kamdor agreed. Then wondered why he was agreeing to take on another sidekick. Probably for the same reasons as the last one, he rationalized. She'd get him to Earth, she'd find him the Gem he was looking for…and then he would take her out of the game and use whatever was left behind to further his own power. A solid plan. She was too enraged to even suspect.

"Good," Spinel resolved. "I'll even forgive you for that little stunt you pulled stabbing me earlier. After all, I was a different Gem then. I should almost THANK you for killing that naïve little crybaby I used to be not five minutes ago! Oh, how did it really take me so long to realize everything I could become?"

"Then we'll work together!" Kamdor declared. "Now, let's go before Homeworld troops arrive! TO EARTH!"

"To Earth?" Spinel repeated. "Oh, no, no, no, no, noooooo. We're not going to Earth just yet!"

"WHY NOT?"

"Becaaaauuuuse!" Spinel grinned toothily. "The game will be so much more fun if we stop back on Homeworld first and pick up some shiny new toys. The kind that will put an END to the new age of utopia brought on by the death of Pink Diamond!"

"I LIKE THE WAY YOU THINK!" Kamdor cried. "Now, let's go!"

...

"JOKER!" Zurg yelled as he stormed into the throne room.

"What was so urgent that you required our presence IMMEDIATELY?" Ozai asked, entering from the door across the hall.

From the perpendicular door, Scar sauntered in; "I hope for your sake that this is important."

Joker, draped casually over the throne, gave a high-pitched cackle. "Oh, but it is! You're all required for mandatory group therapy!"

"GROUP THERAPY?" Zurg repeated. "THIS ISN'T HOW GROUP THERAPY WORKS! I WOULD KNOW!"

"We are in no need of such jests," Ozai growled.

"Oh, I bow to your wisdom," Scar said dryly without any such motion. "Of course, we are all desperately in need of your expertise."

"But you are!" Joker argued. "You all hate each other! It's time we talked that out, isn't it?"

Ozai bristled; "I know of no such hatred."

"Nor I," Scar said innocently.

"I LOVE all of my co-workers!" Zurg said in a tone that was incredibly close to being convincing. "What would give you the idea that I don't?"

"Well," Joker said as he removed his recording device, "for one…"

Click.

Zurg's voice echoed out: "Well, what king gets beaten by a twelve-year-old kid and then loses his throne to his teenage son? Answer: an incompetent one. He can go around and act like I'm soooooooo far beneath him because I've failed so many times, but at least I've never lost my empire to a TWELVE-YEAR-OLD!"

"WHAT?" Ozai growled.

"THAT'S TAKEN OUT OF CONTEXT!" Zurg yelled.

"Now, it's not considered proper etiquette to call people imbeciles," the recording continued, "but lions are officially classified by the Galactic Alliance as animals, not people, so I'm going to say it: HE'S AN IMBECILE! …Though it's not like that classification would have stopped me anyway."

Scar shot a death glare at Zurg. "YOU."

"Oh, like YOU haven't said worse about ME at some point!" Zurg defended.

"Funny you should say that…" Joker rewound the recording.

Now it was Scar's voice: "Apparently Zurg has attempted and failed to conquer his territory multiple times. I do believe the short stint I was in power lasted double any of his conquests. I wonder why he continues to bother, rather than finding a hobby or perhaps a lioness."

"WHA – HOW DARE YOU!" Zurg cried.

"You had only just said you knew I'd said such a thing!" Scar growled.

"WELL, I DIDN'T EXPECT TO ACTUALLY HEAR HOW OFFENSIVE IT WAS!" Zurg yelled. "ALSO, I ALREADY HAVE A BOYFRIEND!"

"For all the good it's done you," Scar muttered.

"As I suspected," Ozai scoffed. "A man."

"Is there a PROBLEM WITH THAT?" Zurg growled at him.

"It seems to be a common thread amongst the weak and the incompetent," Ozai informed him.

"HOW – DARE – YOU!"

"Hmmm," Joker mused, quite enjoying the show already. "So you think you're more competent than the gays? I'm an ally myself, by the way. Or maybe there's a little bi in me; don't tell anyone this, but I've WONDERED why Batsy manages to drive me batsy so often."

"This doesn't surprise me," Ozai muttered. "Though I'd thought it obvious I was the competent member of this faction."

"Let's just see what Scar has to say about that, shall we?" Joker grinned.

"I simply wonder who our esteemed Ozai even believes he is," the recording went on. "If you'll pardon a crude expression, he acts as though his dung is odorless. Why, if his nose were any further up in the air, he'd simply drown when the rains came."

"I do NOT pardon such crude metaphors!" Ozai snarled.

"Well, I mean, you pointed out a certain smell of your own," Joker reminded him.

The recording of Ozai ranted, "Zurg seems to need to re-conquer the same empire every week, with a new scheme to do so. Never a well-planned one, at that. Persistence may be admirable, but there comes a time when desperation smells of smoldering…and I have the impression that time came perhaps nine hundred thousand schemes ago. Has he nothing better to do? Obviously, he was never fit to rule, if he cannot keep the throne so long."

"Nothing I wished to keep secret," Ozai stated.

"OH, BUT YOU'RE ABOUT TO WISH YOU HAD!" Zurg cried.

"Then you won't mind me airing THIS dirty laundry, either," Joker said as the recording continued:

"Scar may act intelligent, but do not forget he was devoured by his own loyalists by losing that loyalty. Why he even chose to keep trusting them after their first failure escapes me; certainly that should have been the sign of the rift. As with Zurg, Scar seems to think that enacting the same course again and again will produce a different result. Had he made competent choices to begin with, he would not have found himself in need of resurrection."

"I daresay THAT was your least competent choice!" Scar growled.

"Now, wait just a moment," Zurg realized. "You set this up on purpose, didn't you? You went around egging us on to insult each other so you could host the reveal party."

"Guilty!" Joker giggled, hopping up from the throne. "But really, does it matter in the long run? You all said it and you all meant it! Me? Why, I love all of you! In the sense that this is the best entertainment I've had in a LONG time!"

"I did TRULY mean it," Scar snarled. "But the contempt I held for the both of you then is NOTHING compared to what I hold against you knowing what you think of ME."

"So you refuse to respect me," Ozai added. "An act of treason that would have been punishable by death under the reign of the Phoenix King. And perhaps still is."

"I'LL SHOW YOU HOW CRACKPOT MY SCHEMES ARE!" Zurg cried. "FOR INSTANCE, WHEN I MURDER YOU, IT'LL STICK THE FIRST TIME!"

"So be it." Ozai raised his hands, lighting them aflame.

Scar gave a low, animalistic growl, raising a paw to eject his claws.

"Oh, THAT'S not fair," Zurg groaned. "We're really going to do this now, while I'm not even armed?"

"Oooooopsie!" Joker wheeled in a large cart of armaments from the storage room and placed it beside Zurg. "Now, how did THOSE get there?"

"NEVER MIND!" Zurg grabbed for dual swords. "HAVE AT YOU!"

Zurg, Ozai, and Scar rushed each other, ready to tear each other apart when they reached the center.

But before they could get there, an immense thunderbolt struck where they would have converged, causing all three to halt and backpedal.

"I can't leave you alone for FIVE MINUTES!" Ursula snarled as she slithered into the room, shed of Vanessa's guise. "WHAT did you think you were doing?"

"THEY WERE MEAN TO ME!" Zurg yelled.

"They disrespected my honor," Ozai growled.

"They bruised my dignity," Scar said as he turned his nose upward.

"SO?" Ursula cried in exasperation. "YOU'RE ALL IDIOTS! THAT'S WHY I'M IN CHARGE! AND WE'RE OVERTAKERS! WE'RE SUPPOSED TO BE MEAN! YOU'RE GOING TO DROP THIS ARGUMENT NOW AND APOLOGIZE TO EACH OTHER, OR MY NEXT STRIKE WON'T MISS!"

"No!" Zurg folded his arms and turned away from Ursula. "I don't want to!"

"Nor I," Scar agreed.

"Guppies," Ursula sighed. "I've been assigned to babysit a school of GUPPIES!"

"What does it matter?" Ozai asked. "Should not the superior eliminate the weak?"

"THAT'S NOT HOW IT WORKS!" Ursula yelled at him, getting as close as she could to him – she was slightly shorter and yet still more intimidating than he. "This is a 'teamwork makes the dream work' kind of deal, unless you wanna take on Mozenrath's flunkies ALONE!"

"THEY WILL NOT FOLLOW US HERE!" Ozai raged.

"Oh, they won't?" Ursula pretended to act surprised. "Then what was all that I heard in the streets about Archibald Snatcher rallying the common people to rebel against our rule?"

"WHAT?" Zurg, Scar, and Ozai all flinched, returning their attention to Ursula.

"I'm sorry," Joker said as he waltzed back into the room with a bowl of fire flakes. "I feel like I just missed something."

"They're here," Ursula explained, "and it looks like they came here to SPECIFICALLY go fishing for Overtakers. Now, do you want to kill each other off and let them finish the job, or do you at least want to form a truce long enough to make sushi out of them?"

"I like the sushi option," Zurg said. "I…supposeIapologize."

"As do I," Scar sighed. "After all, we do all share common ground I would be remiss to notice."

"I refuse," Ozai grunted, "but I will agree to this truce for as long as necessary. And not a moment more."

"And you." Ursula pointed to Joker. "I know you had something to do with this."

"You can't prove that," Joker told her. (He'd just crushed all the evidence.)

"No," Ursula told him, "but I'm not wrong, and we both know it. Now fess up. The sooner you do, the sooner you can have a little FUN with our new guests."

Joker's eyes lit up. "Oh, I am so DREADFULLY sorry for my foul manipulations! It won't happen again!"

Ursula didn't miss that he had a hand behind his back so he could cross his fingers, but she also knew this was the best she would get for the time being. "Now," she began, "here's what I've learned."

...

The scene opens on a typical bank. The features of the setting are unimportant, as are the names of the extras. You simply see that it is an average New York populace doing what average people do at banks.

A crash shudders the building. Enter Rhino. He leaves an enormous hole in the wall, missing the door entirely.

"HEY, JERKS!" he yells. "YOU'RE GETTIN' ROBBED!"

Screams ensue.

Before there is time to panic, a fog of bright teal rolls in. (It was supposed to be green, but Mozenrath lent a particular potion to the fog generator in order to add a little magic to the effect. It didn't have to be blue and Mysterio knew it. He knew Mozenrath was trying to hijack his curated aesthetic.)

Enter the leading player: Mysterio.

"SURRENDER YOUR VALUABLES!" he cries with dramatic passion, throwing his hands into the air. "FOR THE SINISTER SIX HAVE COME TO PRY THEM FROM YOUR HANDS, DEAD OR ALIVE AS THEY MAY BE! LEONES HUC!"

Two practical effects appear, one to either side of Mysterio. Reflected in the fog, the literally captive audience sees a pair of lions. Before them rise two hoops: one on fire and one ice-white, radiating frost.

Mysterio draws from his belt a gun. While the gun is primarily a prop that has been packed with flares, the ammunition also packs a punch and will make a visible impact on all it strikes. It's a practical effect.

He raises it and fires. The ceiling cracks. Pyrotechnics of red and orange erupt. The lions leap through their respective hoops; one's mane catches fire and becomes a blaze of orange while the other's mane becomes spiky, sharp, and frostbite-inducingly cold.

"They're just illusions!" some idiot shouts. "We don't have to fear them!"

(Wait. That didn't happen. That's what was supposed to happen, in the script. But Mysterio waited and all he got was fear.

"ISN'T ANYONE GOING TO SAY THAT THEY'RE ONLY ILLUSIONS AND TRY TO FIGHT THEM?" he yelled.

"That's right!" a security guard realized. And the script was back on track.)

"They ARE only illusions!" a security guard yells, having come to that conclusion immediately after the introduction of the lions, with no prompting needed from the leading man. "You're done, Mysterio!"

He attempts to charge Mysterio, but the fire-lion rams into him. While the lion is not tangible, it very definitely sets the guard's uniform on fire. (Thanks, Mozenrath.)

"As you can see," Mysterio proclaims, "I am DEAD SERIOUS about my craft!"

On the words "DEAD SERIOUS," he points the flare gun at the head teller. "Do as we say," he cries, "or I'll shoot!"

"What do we do?" some poor soul cries.

"I'll let my colleagues answer that," Mysterio responds. "Surely you recall…SHOCKER?"

Enter (Sandman. It was Sandman. They had talked about this. They had rehearsed this. It was not supposed to be Flint.

"What are you doing?" Mysterio asked.

"What?" Sandman replied. "Was that not my cue?"

"NO," Mysterio argued. "IT WAS SHOCKER'S!"

"Yeah, but I'm the indestructible shapeshifting team muscle," Sandman pointed out. "Wouldn't it make more sense to intro me first?"

Mysterio let out a long, drawn-out sigh. "Very well."

Take it from the top.)

"Surely you recall…SANDMAN?" Mysterio responds.

Enter Sandman. He extends an earthen arm, dealing a solid punch to three guards at once. "You know the drill!" he laughs, completely cavalier. "Money in bags, in our hands, whatever ya got, and don't stop 'till we've got all of it!"

"And if ya don't wanna hand it over…I'll be glad to take it off yer hands." Enter Shocker – oh, NOW he decides to show up.

("WHERE WERE YOU WHEN I INTRODUCED YOU?" Mysterio yelled.

"Well, SOR-RY!" Shocker yelled back. "Just thought it'd make sense to send in our powerhouses first!"

"Oh, and I suppose you also told ELECTRO – "

"No! I told him to wait like you wanted! I ain't THAT stupid!"

"…FORGET I SAID ANYTHING ABOUT ELECTRO!" Mysterio yelled to the frozen bank patrons.)

"In fact," Mysterio declares, "I do believe it is now time to introduce none other than…DOCTOR OCTOPUS!"

Enter Dr. Octopus. He is not much of a brawler and has requested to play the role of the casual supervisor who drinks a cup of coffee while panic ensues. It has the desired effect. "I hope you all know by now not to deny my Sinister Six what they want," Octopus says, taking a sip of his coffee.

"And don't even THINK about pulling an alarm!" Mysterio concludes. "After all – "

("Electro shorted out the alarm, didn't he?" a bystander commented.)

"ELECTRO HAS SHORTED OUT YOUR ALARM SYSTEM!" Mysterio laughs, as no one has stolen his thunder.

Enter Electro. He crackles, alive with lightning. The power surges off him and radiates through the entire lobby, darkening the bank. His mask peels back, revealing his horribly luminous face with its sadistic grin.

"I'm not even in this for the money," he laughs. "I'm in this for the FUN!"

"Get to work, boys," Octopus commands.

Rhino bowls over several guards. Sandman becomes a tidal wave, coursing toward the safety deposit boxes. Electro shorts out an ATM. Shocker heads to the back, for the large safe. Octopus sips his coffee and watches.

"NOBODY MOVE," Mysterio says, keeping his firearm trained on the teller, "OR HE GETS IT!"

It's mostly to cover Shocker, who has to head past the tellers to get to the safe he needs to crack. From a rear room, the sound of his gauntlets revving up is audible.

The next part of the script follows thus:

Should the teller so much as flinch, Mysterio uses a clever practical-effect trick: aiming just a degree off-center from the head as he fires so that the ammo will only clip at most. "NEXT TIME, I WON'T MISS!" he threatens. The teller shrinks in place. Everyone holds their breath, not daring to do so much as sweat in case it causes their dear co-worker to perish violently.

(But there were some things not in the script. For example, Mysterio didn't know that the female teller who'd just entered the room to see the commotion had secretly loved the man at the end of Mysterio's flare gun for a year and never confessed. Had he known, he would've thought it an amazing dramatic flavor. But he didn't. He didn't know she had promised herself a long time ago that she would die to keep her love safe, and now, it seemed like she had to cash in on that promise.)

The lovelorn heroine, unbeknownst to Mysterio, slides along the wall until she knows she cannot stay out of sight of the spherical-helmeted man. Then she makes a graceless dive toward the love of her life.

Mysterio doesn't register the scene for what it is, at first. All he sees is the movement. He shifts the gun a couple degrees off center and fires.

The female teller pounces from the direction he aimed at, tackling Mysterio's original target out of the way with a scream.

The ammunition pierces directly into her head and suddenly, there was no more script, not anymore, not for this.

Mysterio – no, really just Quentin Beck, dressed up like a villain – shook, his entire body rattling. This was never part of the plan. It was a robbery. No one was supposed to die. His hand, the one holding the gun, quivered especially until the weapon slid out of it and crashed to the floor.

He'd never actually succeeded in doing this before. He'd always thought it would be easier. Prettier, like it is in the movies. But the dead woman lying before him was ugly, half her head blown away by the force of the flare. The sunlight from the only window in the lobby caught the edge of Mysterio's glass helmet, blanketing the bloodstain in a prismatic rainbow. It might have been poetic if he cared anymore.

Maybe he never really wanted to do this.

The rest of the robbery, he assumed, was going to script. It was all blurry, muffled noise, background events he couldn't focus on. His eyes were trained on the woman. The dead woman. The human being he'd killed. Not an understudy playing a corpse and holding her breath, nor a wax figurine double of a living actress.

She was dead. He'd killed her.

Somehow, it had never occurred to him that this would actually happen.

Time froze, or maybe it was just Mysterio who did. He could hardly tell what was happening anymore. The sounds of crackling electricity, thundering footsteps, and reverberating shockwaves indicated his colleagues were doing their jobs, but he couldn't bring himself to look anywhere but at the dead woman, despite her being the one thing he didn't want to look at.

"WHAT DID YOU DO?" the man she saved yelled. "YOU KILLED HER! Oh, God…oh, GOD…"

Mysterio had no quip for that one.

Eventually, he felt a pair of strong arms lock around one of his own, and a familiar drawl yelling at him to "Snap out of it, Mysterio! Let's MOVE!". He let Shocker drag him away, an inglorious exit unbefitting of the entrance.

Everyone knew Mysterio was dramatic. Everyone knew he made mountains out of molehills. Well, that was more true than ever, because a woman he didn't even know was dead by his hand, and now he was no longer living in the same world he had inhabited previously.

...

A/N: Trigger warnings are for (minor) character death, gore, and mental trauma surrounding that death, as well as a mild mention of suicidal intent earlier.

Special thanks to GAvillain for providing the insults used in Ozai, Zurg, and Scar's roasts. (A lot of his exact phrasing went into Zurg's, which makes me suspect this was his subtle way of telling me that he is, in fact, Evil Emperor Zurg.) The part Zurg says about Scar spending all his money on MMO customizations is based on a meme from quality shitpost blog reallyreallyreallytrying on Tumblr, which you might know as the progenitor of Spiders Georg.