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.

119. The Tales of Ba Sing Se (And Others)

A/N: I'm not quite sure if this constitutes a trigger warning, but this chapter does contain a rather large saturation of straight men being pigs to women.

...

The enormous hand made of sand slammed against Mozenrath's throat, pinning him hard to the back wall. As Mozenrath's face contorted in discomfort, the Huntsman withdrew his staff, at the ready.

"YOU SAID NOBODY'D GET HURT!" Flint raged.

The Huntsman turned out to be redundant to the situation; Mozenrath made Flint's arm explode in a blast of blue by waving his own altered right hand. Straightening his cape as he balanced upright, he corrected, "No. What I SAID was you didn't have to get your hands dirty if you didn't want to. After all, that's the arrangement I have with one of our junior members. YOU don't have to kill anyone. But people. Will. Die. Do I make myself clear this time, or are you going to be an idiot again and edit the important part out in your head because you can't play anywhere but the little kids' sandbox?"

They'd gathered in the hotel block Mozenrath had rented them for the night with a defunct credit card running on glamour enchantments and no money at all. Mozenrath and the Huntsman had the home base, the penthouse apartment big enough to fit them all, while the others' private quarters were one floor down. Now the entire Sinister Six plus their three WHAM recruiters were assembled in the penthouse in order to hash things out.

"So you're in it for just hurtin' whoever gets in your way?" Flint raged, his arm reforming itself at his side. "What's the deal? You keep changin' your mind! One minute, it's fine for us to not want any blood, but the next, you're talkin' like you wanna just pick 'em off for the fun of it!"

"No," Mozenrath growled, barely keeping himself restrained. "Here's how it works. I 'pick them off' because they all wronged me in some fashion or another, even if by simply annoying me. The Huntsman here 'picks them off' because he has undertaken an oath to rid the worlds of a supernatural menace. Dr. Hämsterviel 'picks them off' because he needs to boost his ego, since he can't actually create anything scientifically valid without breathing over someone else's shoulder and pretending he did the work."

"HEY!" Hämsterviel griped. "That may be a truth, but it does not mean you should be telling such truths!"

"If anyone 'picks them off' for the fun of it," Mozenrath went on, now slightly, ironically smirking, "it'd be Mim, Aghoul, and Neo, none of which you've met. We all bring a little something different to the table. What we have in common is the stomach for our line of work. You call yourself a criminal? You call yourself blackhearted and ruthless? Then start acting like it."

"I don't got no stomach," Flint growled. "No heart, neither. But I got a conscience all the same. Yeah, I'm a crook. I'm the bad guy. But I do that for me. Not 'cause I wanna hurt anybody else."

"And you don't think all the stealing, lying, and cheating is hurting anyone. Nor that it could, inadvertently, lead to their death."

"YOU SHUT UP!" Flint raged. "YOU DON'T KNOW THE FIRST THING YOU'RE TALKIN' ABOUT! YOU…YOU DON'T EVEN KNOW WHO I AM!"

"I know you're all but impossible to kill," Mozenrath remarked. "Which is the reason you're not currently dead where you stand. So I'm offering you a choice. Your powers would be incredibly valuable to the WHAM ARMY. I won't beat around the abal there. Throw away that conscience and join us. It'll be worth your while. Oh, and don't ever lay a hand on me again. Or you can leave and we forget any of this ever happened. No one said the Sinister Six had to be a full outfit of six. There's no shortage of alliterative terms that can go with any number we end up taking. But if you leave, don't come back, and don't argue. As I've said, you're nigh impossible to kill. But, to borrow the words of someone I no longer respect – after all, a broken clock is right twice a day at least – you'd be surprised what you can live through."

"Then I walk," Flint asserted. "This is the last you'll be seein' of O'Hirn and me. Have fun with a Fearsome Four."

"Taken," Mozenrath told him. "But I appreciate the sentiment."

As for the others – Electro, Otto, Quentin, Montana, Alex – they had been watching in silence up until this point, the point when Alex finally spoke up:

"Uh, hey, Flint. About that…"

"Wha?" Flint turned to look at Alex over his shoulder. "You agree with me, right?"

"I mean, it ain't that you're wrong or anything," Alex told him, "but that whole noble honor stuff, that's you. That ain't me."

"Are you saying you ain't LEAVING?" Flint's jaw dropped.

"This Mozenrath guy," Alex went on. "He's got somethin' good set up. This is the big time, Flint. Honest, I was worried this'd happen. That you'd blow our shot."

"BLOW OUR SH – O'HIRN!" Flint now faced him fully, gesturing wildly with his arms to punctuate his point. "PEOPLE'RE GONNA DIE 'CAUSE OF THAT JERK!"

"And?" Alex responded.

"And…" If Flint could still experience such a sensation as a chill, he knew he would be at that very moment.

"Y'know that boat?" Alex went on. "Never liked what you did about the boat. I woulda left it."

"N…no…" Now Flint was shaking his head. "No, no, no, O'Hirn, you'n'me, we're partners, we GO together, we're pals, we can work it out, where there's a Sandman there's a Rhino…right?"

"Lately, I just ain't been feelin' it," Alex admitted. "You've gone soft, Flint. Literally. You're made of sand."

"Gone s – " Flint winced. "I…no! This is how it always was! We're thieves, thugs, lowlifes! Not mass murderers!"

"I mean, wouldn't be my first choice." Alex shrugged. "But I gotta spill some blood to get the big bucks…I don't mind."

"So you're sayin' I should STAY?" Flint raged.

"No," Alex told him bluntly. "I ain't sayin' that."

"What, so if you don't go, and I don't stay, then – " It seemed the punches would never stop coming. "…O'Hirn? …Alex? I thought we…"

"Nothin' personal," Alex told him. "You just ain't my style anymore."

"Nothin' personal, huh." Flint seemed, for a brief moment, to be perfectly tranquil. Then the rage burst out all at once; "NOTHIN' PERSONAL? ALL THOSE YEARS WE SPENT, YOU AN' ME, ALL WE HAD WAS EACH OTHER, DOIN' CRIME AND DOIN' TIME, THAT WAS NOTHIN' PERSONAL?"

"It was fun," Alex told him. "But I'm done holdin' back. In my defense, you changed too."

A silence hung over the room for an indeterminate amount of time. Then, at last, Flint resolved, "Okay. Fine. I guess we're done, then."

He crumbled, physically and emotionally. He simply let himself collapse into a hill of colorless sand. Then washed out of the room, out the door, like a low-tide wave.

"Ohhhh, too bad!" Mozenrath mocked. "I was almost enjoying the show!" His tone hardened. "Now. Let's get back to business. We have one more heist to plan in order to acquire the needed funds, and after that little display, I'm thinking you all need a final exam to prove yourselves. Nothing personal, of course!"

"We've had a long day," Electro growled. "We need to rest before we do anything else."

"I suggest you speak for yourself," Otto told him. "Unless you, too, have an objection with how we run our operation?"

"I'M JUST TIRED," Electro snapped defensively. "Does there need to be more to it than that?"

"I think the sparkler's got the right idea," Montana chipped in. "Ain't no use pushin' ourselves to the breakin' point."

"Sleep is for the weak," Mozenrath muttered.

The Huntsman sighed. He was well aware of Mozenrath's aversion to divert his focus from any given new scheme. After all, he'd had to drag him to bed and argue him to sleep several times. Not to mention scour the apartment for hidden coffee paraphernalia. The things he did for that man.

Through it all, Quentin Beck said nothing. He was afraid if he opened his mouth, something besides words might come out. After all, his stomach felt like a stormy sea. Then again, after they'd first arrived at the hotel and gotten him checked in, he'd already taken his respite time to vomit into the toilet repeatedly. All he could see in his mind's eye was the red, red blood. He wasn't so certain it was the viscerality of the gore that made him feel so sick, but rather the memory of pulling the trigger, the math he'd done of cause and effect.

Of course, if he said anything of the sort, he'd be cast out as quickly as Flint was. Or maybe even killed, since he wasn't made of sand.

But that wasn't even the biggest reason he was keeping quiet. He was a villain by trade. He'd chosen this life. He was supposed to be good at this.

"All right," Mozenrath sighed, his eyes rolling upward. "You're all dismissed."

Montana, Otto, and Electro turned to leave the room. Hämsterviel scurried to where he'd made a bed of sorts out of blankets and pillows in one of the roomier kitchen cupboards (though he would kill for some nice sawdust).

And Quentin lingered.

"Something you want to say?" Mozenrath challenged him.

But Quentin was an actor, no matter what. He'd just fallen behind in his art. So he raised his head high, holding Mozenrath's gaze:

"Absolutely nothing, o vicious one."

He turned on a heel, stalking out of the penthouse. Keeping his head held high, his upper lip stiff.

When he was in his green room – no, his hotel room, this wasn't a production anymore – he could let himself break.

...

This is the tale of Scarlet Overkill.

She had always been insecure. From her youth, when she was mocked, all the way into the height of her career in villainy, when she had all eyes on her. It isn't the blessing you think it is, she would always say. Especially as the only woman in the field. They were waiting for her to make a single mistake in any area. To not be the best brawler. The prettiest and most fashion-forward on the stage. The most lucrative burglar.

To achieve anything less than perfection was to achieve nothing at all. She'd always known that.

But here, things were different. For one, the WHAM ARMY was full of imperfect people. For another, if they insulted her, that was more to do with the fact that they liked to insult people than to do with her.

But mostly, she'd grown to a place where she'd felt too safe. All the years she'd put into being the best, the brightest, the most beautiful, they'd paid off. And now she had achieved that perfection that had put her at the top of the villain game before the brat with the freeze ray had come along.

There was always that worry, in the back of her mind. Do this, do that, make sure you present your best. At any moment, the tower could fall. But at least she was able to keep up the illusion. No one had seen through to the desperate woman underneath.

Still, it never hurt to have a little glam-up. Ba Sing Se had a luxury spa nearby. Knowing full well Mozenrath wasn't going to appreciate having the heist money from the recruitment drive spent on a makeover, Scarlet still paid up and entered one of the best pamperings of her life. Steamy sauna, cool mud on her face, painted makeup with a red tint over the eyes and lips, hair coiffed around her tiara made from the Marie Antoinette gems acquired back in Wickford.

She left the spa feeling refreshed. Not in the sense that she'd been allowed to relax, but in the sense that her beauty gauge had been refilled. Because beauty was step one. If you failed that, then no one would even pay you any attention.

She'd seen other women attempt to get into the villain field. They might've taken her place if they'd looked like she did. She tried not to think about that.

But on her stride back to the safehouse, she passed a trio of young women, only newly-debuted adults at best, and their whispers slunk into her ears from afar:

"Look at her! Who does she think she is?"

"Who told her she could pull off that shade of red?"

"I'm more concerned with who told her she was still young enough to dress like that. Can you say 'trying too hard'?"

"She's probably easy – "

"EXCUSE YOU!" Scarlet rounded on the girls, holding up her index finger (and highly contemplating using a different finger entirely for the job). "I know you three are just jealous, but that does NOT mean you get to go around backtalking people who are older than you!"

The trio burst into laughter. "What are you gonna do?" one of them asked. "Earthbend me into the street and bury me alive?"

"Don't be stupid," another chortled. "She's not a bender! She's not even from around here, or she wouldn't be wearing RED! I bet she's Fire Nation."

"I thought they were supposed to be prettier in the Fire Nation – "

Scarlet wanted to roundhouse all three of them then and there. But attracting attention at this stage of the game would be counterproductive. "You know what?" she decided, turning away and turning up her nose. "I don't have to listen to you three, because I know – "

"Honey!" This from a man at the head of a trio of young men, around the same ages as the girls.

"Babe!" The ringleader of the crew flew into his arms, ignoring Scarlet entirely; the other two sets matched up as well. "Let's get outta here. This jerk lady is trying to tell me off!"

"What?" The man looked to Scarlet, then laughed. "You were taking insults from THAT?"

"OKAY, WHY IS EVERYONE BEING SO RUDE TO ME?" Scarlet yelled. "YES. I AM A GROWN-UP, UNLIKE ALL OF YOU."

"Yeah," one of the men asserted. "We can see that. The crow's feet kinda give it away."

"Are we not gonna talk about how much gray hair is in there?" the third of the group brought up. "And what's with that tacky crown?"

"Just ignore her, hon," the leader of the men assured his girlfriend, slipping an arm around her waist. "You're prettier than her." Squeezing her waist. Implying, to Scarlet, that she wasn't doing as well in that department as she had been, either.

She fumed silently as the six stalked off, having a good laugh. Again, making a scene: counterproductive. That was definitely the prevailing reason she held back.

But she didn't count out the fact that she felt utterly miserable and simply didn't have the heart.

A shop in the bazaar was selling mirrors, and she paused by it to get a look. In all truth, the crow's feet and laugh lines on her face weren't that visible, especially under the makeup, but to her, they looked like the wrinkles on a raisin. She had maybe one or two gray hairs; they appeared to her as enormous shining streaks. Stepping back, she could tell that she was a size bigger in the midsection than she had been, which, really, was still quite slim, but she could do better than this, she'd done better than this, she was letting herself go completely –

From there, she hurried back to the safehouse, not wanting to be beheld by anyone's eyes. Not when she was so unkempt, so horrendous.

When she slammed the door behind her, then leaned back on it and sank down to sprawl in a clumsy sitting position on the floor, she thought at first that the safehouse was empty due to the lack of activity or sound. So she thought it safe to talk to herself for a bit.

"They're making things up!" she said with forced bubbliness. "They're all just jealous. That's all it is! They were looking at me and making up lies and – and – " She couldn't proceed with the lie any longer. "And I'm a wreck. I'm past my prime. I can't do this anymore!"

"Oh, more's the pity for you. No scales, no fins, no blasted gills. How horrendous. How loathsome."

"GAH!" Scarlet scrambled to a sitting position. Of course. She'd forgotten. Snatcher wouldn't, couldn't leave the house. In fact, he hadn't even left the couch, which was why she hadn't noticed him. He'd simply been lying there, staring at the wall ahead, not even bothering to fiddle with Discord's impromptu television.

Scarlet stepped around to get a better look at him. The transformation was all but complete; his skin was a very virulent shade of green at that point, crusted over with scales. His shoes and rings lay in a sad pile on the floor before the couch, as the webbing of the fingers and the elongation of the feet made it impossible to wear either type of accessory. On top of the webbed fingers, he'd also gained a set of rather wicked-looking claws. His face was somewhat restructured, its features that much larger, more fishlike; the whites of his eyes were a crimson that seemed to be deepening as Scarlet looked on.

"Wow," she said without thinking. "You look – you look like – yeah, you're definitely having a worse day than me."

"And however did you come to that conclusion?" He didn't even move. Didn't bother looking at her.

"Well, I'll be honest," she replied. "If anything can get my mind off how much of a bummer today was, it's talking about how much of a bummer YOUR day was."

She stalked around to sit on the couch arm nearest his feet, now noticing that his oozing had become heavier, staining the cushions with green. Not really something you could look too closely at. Scarlet delicately crossed one ankle over the other as she sat, asking, "So, how bad is it?"

"Oh, not truly terrible," Snatcher replied flatly. "Only the end of my life and career as I know them. My humanity sullied. My closest companion repulsed by the sight of me. Don't know what I expected, really. Always happens, you know. He'd gotten too used to me as I normally am. Forgot what you're supposed to think, looking at me."

"I could hunt him down and kick his butt from here to the Fire Nation for you," Scarlet volunteered.

"Don't waste the effort," Snatcher sighed.

"I get the feeling it's not so much about effort and more about you not wanting me to actually kick his butt."

"Don't know why I'd care," Snatcher admitted. "Not as though he'll come around."

"I mean, when we get back to base – "

"You presume Mr. Vexen will have a reversal procedure. That anyone will be able to rectify…this."

"Well, we kind of are skilled at doing the impossible," Scarlet reminded him. "Once you're a human person again, then Roman will come running back into your arms."

"Of course." He wasn't at all enthusiastic.

After a long silence, Scarlet admitted, "But you and I both know it's not gonna be the same."

"No. It won't."

A longer silence.

"Mrs. Overkill."

"What?"

"You're not to repeat this…"

"Cross my heart and hope to die. Fire a lava gun in my eye."

"I was beginning to think I loved him. Perhaps I did."

"I can't even act like I'm surprised, honestly."

And back to silence.

Until Snatcher sighed, "All right. Let's talk about whatever trivial matter had you upset and eventually come to the realization that it didn't ever matter."

"Look, I'm losing it," Scarlet broke down. "Everyone thought I was pretty! Like a princess! And that's step one! You! Had! To! Be! Pretty! Ugly girls didn't win at the game! But I was no ugly girl. Oh, no, not after I got my braces off and stopped wearing pigtails. I turned heads! And when I started doing crime, everyone KNEW I was gonna make it big because I had the cover-girl look! I had THE tiniest waist!"

"I do hope you realize how this sounds telling me this to my face, Mrs. Overkill."

"I do," Scarlet stated, "and still, I am not going to stop because I have problems too, okay? And that doesn't change just because you have problems, so you're gonna hear me out, 'cause we already ran your problems into the ground! It's my turn to have the problems!"

"…We truly are siblings at this point."

"They laughed at me," Scarlet groaned. "They laughed at me IN THE STREET! They said I was…" She blinked rapidly, yet couldn't stem the tears. "Old…and ugly…and how did I let myself get this way? I've always known that if I lost my perfection, I'd lose it all. I'M ABOUT TO LOSE IT ALL!"

After a pause, there came a sound that it took Scarlet a moment to realize was Snatcher attempting to stifle his own laughter – which she hadn't expected from him in this circumstance.

"Oh, you think that's FUNNY?" she snapped.

"Mrs. Overkill," he reminded her, shifting to better look at her – the first time he'd moved since she'd entered, or since she'd left, for that matter – "again, you truly must understand. I was at a much greater disadvantage than you. But I clawed my way out of it with my own hands, I did! Worked myself to the bone! Analyzed, tantalized, scandalized, ready to evangelize! I had the whole town practically eating out of the palm of my hand, and met my demise as a course of getting exactly what I wanted!"

"Yeah, that was stupid," Scarlet teased with a smirk.

"My POINT," Snatcher went on, "is that you're not out of options just yet."

"Okay, one big difference here," Scarlet told him. "YOU'RE A MAN AND I'M NOT. Men are allowed to be ugly! Women aren't!"

"Oh, dear, are we forgetting that I spent a considerable amount of time convincing people I was a woman?"

"Well, you were pretty as Frou Frou!" Scarlet huffed.

"Strange, isn't it? Same body, same features, and yet as the lesser sex – "

Scarlet shot him a flaming-hot glare, reminding him that old habits really did die hard on his tongue. He did know better at this point.

" – gender perceived to be lesser, I should say, I managed to hold Lord Portley-Rind's beating black heart in the palm of my hand. And how do you think that came about?"

"I – " Scarlet was at a loss. "I have no idea. How did it?"

"Took me a right while to put my finger on it, myself," Snatcher admitted. "But I do believe I've figured out the key most magical."

"And?"

"You've got to act like you're ravishing, even when you're not."

"HOW IS THAT ANYTHING DIFFERENT FROM WHAT I'VE BEEN DOING?" Scarlet yelled. "I've been walking the walk!"

"No." Snatcher was truly smirking now. "You've been putting on a front. Acting the part of the confident leading lady, built for the spotlight. But underneath, you're a frightened little creature, afraid everyone will see right through to you, and because of that, they do. Now, if you truly believed yourself worthy of their praise and adulation, you'd be able to put your hair back in its tails and still turn heads."

"Oh, you are one to TALK," Scarlet groaned. "Am I really supposed to believe in this self-confidence thing from Mr. Insecurity himself?"

"…It was always different, as Frou Frou," Snatcher said softly. "When I was her…of course, there was a script. I knew who I had to be. But I didn't have to be who I was. Not anymore. Leave all that behind. Say what I couldn't say, as a man. Do what I couldn't do. Flirt with the people I wanted to take note rather than those I needed to act smitten around in order to keep up appearances. Perform, express, captivate! It was more than a mere means to an end. It was a way to escape. Still is, if you ask me. You'd think on this journey of self-actualization, I'd have every reason to discard the façade. Can't, at this point. Not that I need her, but I don't want to LOSE her."

"No, I get that," Scarlet said with a nod. "You're a performance artist at heart. And a gender bender. But you're really saying being Frou Frou actually just made all of that worry…go away. You weren't even afraid you'd be found out?"

"No. Of course not. My performance was flawless. If there's anything I knew, it's that I could pull that off. Once I found my way to make my voice heard, a couple octaves higher and in an accent I'm not certain anyone ever realized doesn't belong to any charted nation, it was all over for any man who dared gaze upon me. I knew it. And they knew I knew it. And that's how they all bought it."

"Great," Scarlet groaned. "I'm getting a lecture from YOU on self-confidence. OF ALL PEOPLE."

"Can't say I'm not reveling in the irony."

Scarlet sighed. "I don't know if I need another makeover or a drag identity of my own or what, but I think we've both had a long enough day." She reached to a nearby settee, picking up the remote Discord had left. "What channels does this even pick up, anyway?"

"I've no idea. Knowing Mr. Discord, likely a motley assortment of unwatchable oddities."

They ended up picking up a broadcast from an unknown world of a red-carpet procession to the premiere of some formerly semi-autobiographical horror film franchise's newest installment. A reporter among flashing cameras was attempting to discuss some sort of controversy regarding the true-life crimes it was based on and one of the past directors being a serial killer or somesuch horrible thing, but Snatcher and Scarlet were far more interested in the gaudy outfits of the actors, making commentary on each one until a high-end fashion magazine editor was called up for comment and delivered a delightfully condescending monologue on the history of the color cerulean.

...

For a moment, Steven had thought the jam session with Greg had finally begun to bridge the gap between White Diamond and Corona Pearl. But as he led them across the fields, he was subjected to their arguing starting up again, this time flavored with having just exited a jam session.

"What I am saying is that your voice is crude, harsh, and grating on the ears," White Diamond huffed.

"That be the fifth time ye complained about me shanties!" Corona Pearl pointed out. "What's got ye so obsessed, then?"

"It is not an obsession! You simply will not listen to reason!"

"ENOUGH, OKAY?" Steven yelled – loudly enough to make both stop in their tracks and regard him with curiosity. Feeling guilt course through his body, Steven turned back to look at them both, scratching his head nervously; "Sorry, guys. I just – look, once we get to the barn, we can talk about something else and maybe have a better day."

"BARN?" Corona Pearl repeated. "YE THINK ME LIVESTOCK?"

"Is that not where humans keep their more pungent animals?" White Diamond asked.

"Not this barn," Steven clarified. "This barn is special. Hang on; we're almost there!"

He pulled back a curtain of cornstalks to reveal the great red barn – which had been rebuilt since being used as an assault weapon on Blue Diamond, and showing the patches. All around it, Gems worked at easels, at tables, at looms.

"It seems to be a factory of some sort," White Diamond observed. "Is it for textiles?"

"Look again," Steven told her. "Nothing here is being made fast or for other people to buy and use."

So White Diamond looked closer. Upon further investigation, all of the items being worked on were, in fact, unique. A painting of an ocean sunset. A woven rug of red and gold. A journal being bound, its cover etched with angular patterns.

"I don't understand," White Diamond said in confusion. "What is the purpose of this facility?"

"Aye, it be no facility," Corona Pearl told her. "It be where artists work."

"Artists…?"

"Yeah, artists," Steven affirmed. "Though, uh, Peridot and Lapis prefer the term 'meepmorpers.' They liked doing art so much, when other Gems started moving in, they worked to turn the barn where they lived into a community art center. Sorry, meepmorp center. You can make whatever you want here!"

"Can I make a new military outpost?" White Diamond asked.

"…Anything except that," Steven told her.

"Bah!" Corona Pearl scoffed. "I've no use for these fripperies. There's no value in somethin' ye make from the driftwood an' scrap! It ain't treasure!"

"But it is!" Steven argued, waving his arms frantically. "It's a place where Gems can express themselves! YOU can express yourself if you want!"

"Well, I don't want to express myself," White Diamond told him. "Everyone already knows who I am. What would be the point?"

Steven let out a sigh, slumping. "Guys…I thought this was gonna be fun."

"What'd be more useful would be a place to make meself a new cutlass," Corona Pearl muttered.

Steven suddenly perked up; "THE MINI-FORGE! Come on, come on! You might actually like this!" He took off running, waving a hand behind him to beckon the others to follow.

"Might as well see where this little carouser is going," Corona Pearl said with a shrug.

"At least we can both agree on the utter ridiculousness of this…non-facility," White Diamond sighed.

They followed Steven at a brisk walk. On the way, Steven spotted a familiar face, waving to her; "Oh, hey, Blue Pearl!"

Blue Diamond's former personal Pearl winced upon being addressed; she was slender, soft-spoken, pastel blue with her bangs combed into her eyes. Not one to stand out in a crowd, at least by design. But she did so love exploring her newfound love of drawing here, and was in the midst of a highly detailed sketch of a tree that required much shading. "Hello," she said in return, almost inaudible.

She then made the diamond greeting with her hands as White Diamond and Corona Pearl passed.

"Former vassal o' yours?" Corona Pearl asked. "Or mayhaps I should be sayin' 'slave.'"

"Blue Diamond's Pearl, to be specific," White Diamond scoffed. "And I happen to be proud of her coming into her own."

"Are ye? Are ye REALLY?"

"Well, I must be. Is that not correct?"

"'Tis better not to tell lies."

"Well, then," White Diamond admitted, "I must say I still cannot grasp why she would want to make flat recreations of objects that already exist, yet all the same, I logically recognize why giving her this freedom benefits us all politically."

After mulling it over, Corona Pearl nodded; "Now, that I believe."

Out back of the barn was a small building that looked carved of sandstone. A similar structure was located near Little Homeschool; this one was much smaller and simpler. Steven pushed his way through the arched wooden door, White Diamond and Corona Pearl following. The building was cozy, with a rounded ceiling and several types of ovens spread out, from a kiln to –

"A FORGE!" Corona Pearl cried.

At a tall anvil, another Gem was in the process of hammering a spiral pattern into a metal plate. Clothed in a leather apron, she bore skin of a lavender shade framing a broad, muscular figure; the rainbow shades of her dreadlocks echoed the iridescence of the square gem set into her collarbone. She looked up at the sound of the joyous cry, then broke into a smile. "Steven! Hey, good to see ya!"

"You too, Bismuth," Steven replied. "I'm showing my new friend around, and she wants to make a new sword."

"Well, that's not gonna be easy," Bismuth warned.

"I know what I be signin' up for," Corona Pearl stated. "I've forged many a sword in my time."

"Well, all right," Bismuth said with a shrug. "If you know what you're doing, then I'll let you carry on with your…bismuth!"

Corona Pearl gritted her teeth and rolled her eyes. "Must ye?"

"Apparently so," White Diamond sighed. "I've had to put up with it ever since meeting her."

"Hey, it's funny!" Bismuth argued.

"I must admit this, at least, seems more practical than other…meepmorps," White Diamond sighed. "Yours has an application, and will be a significant upgrade from your current model."

"ME CUTLASS AIN'T NO CUT-RATE SWORD!" Corona Pearl seethed. "It be the finest old treasure I've got! But ye can always use a few more, can ye not?"

"I wouldn't know," White Diamond admitted. "I do not carry weapons."

"YE DON'T CARRY – " Corona Pearl's jaw dropped. "WHAT KIND OF WARLORD BE YE? YER TELLIN' ME YE CAN'T EVEN FIGHT?"

"I have the assistance of warships and troops," White Diamond huffed defensively.

"Make the machines and yer hearties do the dirty work!" Corona Pearl scoffed. "Cowardly of ye, if ye ask me – "

"Guyyyyyyys!" Steven protested, clutching at his ears. "Can't you two just work on the sword together? And talk about the sword? The sword is the only thing you sort of agree on!"

After exchanging a glance with Corona Pearl, White Diamond relented; "All right. We shall limit our discussion…if only because I do not want to unleash my anger on this rebellious Pearl."

"Let me get started hammerin' out the tang!" Corona Pearl demanded.

Bismuth set the pair up with sheets of metal and the necessary tools. She then retreated to stand with Steven; "I dunno how you put up with those two all day."

"I'm starting not to know either," Steven sighed.

But Corona Pearl and White Diamond did seem to get along once their discussion was limited to the sword. They worked as a team to hammer out the tang, choose how long to draw out the blade, round the point end, smooth out the marks from the drawing-out, bevel the sharp side, anneal the metal, rough-grind the edges into the desired shape, wrap the grip, add the pommel, and harden and temper the blade, all with minimal arguing over design choices.

(All of which they were able to do without interruption, as around this time was when the WHAM ARMY contingent was currently engaging in a heated volleyball war with the Crystal Gems.)

"I like meepmorps," Steven said softly to Bismuth. "They bring people together."

"Those two?" Bismuth said, doubtful. "I dunno. Feels like once the sword's done, so's the friendship."

"Maybe they can just make more swords!" Steven suggested. "Like, all the time!"

Bismuth shook her head. "Steven, that's just gonna make 'em sick of swords."

Steven slumped. "I know. You're right. I just wish – "

His attention was caught when Corona Pearl, weighing the newly-forged sword in her hands – it ended up looking more like a long scimitar than a cutlass, thanks to White Diamond's influence – passed the blade over to the taller Gem; "Here. Take it."

"Whyever would I want something like this?" White Diamond asked.

"Because ye don't have one," Corona Pearl told her. "And if ye're attacked by buccaneers, ye can't rely on yer crew to throw themselves in front of ye."

"…Thank you," White Diamond said softly, taking up the scimitar. She eyed it up, as if trying to decide its worth. Then slid it into the gem placed on her forehead, ready to be drawn back out if needed.

Steven gasped, starry-eyed. "You guys! You're getting along!"

"Don't expect us to make a habit out of it," White Diamond grunted.

"It was a gesture of necessity," Corona Pearl defended. "Not any sort of mushy feelings."

"Listen," Steven told them. "At this point, I'll just take anything that's not you two trying to argue each other to death."

"What port be next on our voyage?" Corona Pearl asked.

"After all," White Diamond added, "we've done the only thing we were interested in doing here."

"Hmm…" Steven thought it over. "Well…" He snapped his fingers. "Okay, yeah! I know a place where everybody has fun! And the best part? No meepmorpic talent required!"

...

Once, the Blind Bandit had made her name in a brawling ring, taking down burly men several times her size and age with her sheer skill. Part of her had missed the fame and adoration that came with being one of the few who could topple the Boulder. But now, the girl whose name was actually Toph Beifong was finding a new satisfaction to replace being adored for battle showmanship:

Being adored for doing works of charity.

In the soles of her feet, she could feel the thrumming of the crowd that had gathered, the faint vibrations that indicated most of Gaipan was here to watch her newest effort. This was why she'd chosen the little riverside town that played host to a cultural mix of Earth Kingdom and Fire Nation in the wake of a terrible disaster. It needed a lot of fixing. Fixing that only a master earthbender could take care of.

Cracking her knuckles, the pale girl grinned at the flat space before her. She'd paced it out beforehand to get a feel. She'd felt deep into the foundations, knowing exactly how much she had to work with. "All right, everybody!" she called out to the waiting crowd. "The show is about to begin!"

She threw both hands into the air, and a wall of clay from the riverbank went up with them. The crowd cheered.

With the skill of a potter, Toph shaped an entire house from the ground up, raising its walls, spinning the dome of its roof, etching out the windows and doorway. The only things she couldn't add were furnishings, door included. The final touch was opening the spout of a chimney that connected to a potbellied fireplace inside: the house was going to a family that was half Fire Nation (a story that would probably have made a whole other dramatic tale if given the time – in such time as Gaipan had been wrecked and its townspeople made refugees, a Fire Nation soldier who had once enforced order had realized the error of his ways and found himself smitten with a gentle-mannered earthbender) and therefore would have plenty of opportunity to use it to warm the home.

The crowd burst into applause, and Toph bowed left and right; "Thank you! Thank you!"

At the very edge of the cheering and revelry, a very distinctive snort. Now, Toph had heard many snorts in her life, but only one that had ever sounded like that, as there was only one animal in the world who could make it. Her face lighting up with a grin, she turned to barge through the crowd toward the sound; "OUTTA MY WAY! OUTTA MY WAY!"

The immense and comfortably fluffy sky bison Appa touched down on the ground at the town limits. His motley passengers slid down off his back. "Well," Katara sighed, "we're here."

Aang ignored her. Instead, he sought out the girl who was racing toward him at top speed; "TOPH!"

Aang and Toph nearly collided as they met in the middle, embracing tightly. "Aang!" Toph squealed. "How's the celebrity life treating you?"

"It has its ups and downs," Aang told her.

"Now," Toph asked as she let go of Aang, "was that my imagination, or did I hear the distinct sound of Katara's aggressive footsteps, Sokka's clumsy blundering, and Suki's unremarkable walking pattern?"

The three mentioned rolled their eyes. "Good to see you too, Toph," Sokka groaned – though, in truth, it was.

"I haven't seen you guys in forever!" Toph gasped as she clasped her hands. "Oh, wait…I've never seen you at all!"

Now the snort was recognizable as human laughter, but from no voice Toph knew. "Sorry!" Sora said defensively.

"No, it was supposed to be funny." Toph walked up to the owner of the unfamiliar voice, dealing him a light punch on the upper arm. He was relatively tall, for one thing. "You gotta learn to lighten up."

"Hey!" Sora rubbed at his arm. "I'm plenty lightened up!"

"I CAN'T ARGUE WITH THAT," Papyrus stated.

"So who're your new friends?" Toph asked. "Replace me already?"

"ROLL CALL!" Papyrus declared, striking a pose.

"I'm Sora," Sora stated.

"Ven!" Ven said with a smile.

"Aqua." Aqua nodded.

"My name is Rosalina," Rosalina chimed in.

And then a long silence.

"AHEM," Papyrus coughed.

"Are you serious?" XR sighed. "I'm waiting to go last so I can give myself the PROPER introduction."

"NO," Papyrus countered, "I HAVE TO BE THE ONE WHO GOES LAST AND GIVES MYSELF THE DRAMATIC INTRODUCTION HE DESERVES. I DESERVE. THE ONE DESERVES. THE ONE IS PAPYRUS."

"Just go already so I can tell the kid all about how I'm the one and only robot ranger!"

"NO! YOU GO SO SHE CAN BASK IN THE GLORY OF MY AWESOMENESS!"

Sokka's lower lid twitched. "Yeah, it's been like this the whole way over here."

"Wait a minute," Toph realized. "There's something weird about this guy." Following her instincts, she approached XR. "Either you're wearing some seriously advanced armor, or…" She knocked on his cylindrical chest experimentally. "Are you MADE of METAL?"

"Hands off the merchandise!" XR chided as he drew back and away from her.

"Wow!" Toph cried. "I could crunch you into a little ball and throw you around any time if I wanted to! You're lucky I'm nice."

"Ohhhh, you're a reeeeeal sweet little girl, all right," XR grumbled. "Sugar, spice, and everything nice. If the spice is CHILI POWDER."

"Starting to think getting XR, Papyrus, and Toph in the same area was the worst idea we've had yet," Sokka sighed.

"So which one of you is Papyrus and which one is XR?" Toph asked.

Both gave a long, drawn-out groan in Sokka's direction.

"DID YOU REALLY HAVE TO?" Papyrus moaned. "WAS THAT TRULY NECESSARY? NOT LETTING EITHER OF US GET THE CHANCE FOR A STAR-STUDDED INTRODUCTION, LET ALONE ME!"

"Congratulations," XR told him. "You've successfully pooped the party worse than Aqua ever could."

"I'll take it," Aqua said.

"I mean…" Suki smirked. "At least you didn't tell her that XR is the metal one."

"OKAY, NOW YOU'RE DOING IT ON PURPOSE!" XR yelled.

"So what's up?" Toph asked.

"We wanted to ask you to come with us on our latest adventure," Aang told her.

"Of course," Katara broke in, "if you're too busy helping out in Gaipan, we completely get it – "

"Nah, I'm pretty much done here," Toph explained. "The rest of them can work it out on their own. Now, tell me more about this adv – "

"Oh, so now you don't want Toph to come along just because I do?" Aang snapped at Katara.

"I never said that!" Katara cried. "I just thought maybe I should look out for all the people who will be affected by this instead of just me! UNLIKE SOME PEOPLE!"

Toph sighed. "What happened?"

"They broke up," Suki related.

As everyone else's face fell in the memory of the incident, Toph's lit up; "FINALLY!"

"Whaaaa - ?" Sora did a dramatic double take. "Why are you happy about this? They're your friends!"

"Yeah, but they totally didn't go," Toph explained. "I knew it from day one. So, Katara, when are you gonna send a letter to Haru?"

"I'M NOT IN LOVE WITH HARU!" Katara yelled.

"This isn't fair!" Aang argued. "We GET each other! We GO together!"

"Oh, please," Toph groaned. "You two go together like a catfish and a turkey."

"THAT IS LITERALLY AN ANIMAL THAT EXISTS!" Sokka yelled. "THE CATFISHTURKEY! HAVE YOU NEVER CAUGHT ONE?"

"This world is weird," Ven whispered to Sora, who nodded in agreement.

"If you're so smart and you saw this coming," Aang snapped, "then how come you never told me? HOW COME I'M THE LAST PERSON TO KNOW THAT I WASN'T SUPPOSED TO END UP WITH KATARA?"

"Maybe because you're just too pigheaded and stubborn to see yourself from the outside," Toph said plainly, arms folded.

With an "AAAUUUUUGH!", Aang stormed off into the forest of red-orange leaves, heading East down the riverbank.

"…I think I gotta go talk to him," Sora realized. "Be right back!" He charged off after Aang.

"Toph," Aqua scolded, "I think you're the one who's being stubborn."

"Uh, yeah," Toph replied. "And I actually KNOW that about myself, so I win."

"On second thought, I like the kid," XR decided.

"Toph," Rosalina broke in, attempting to change the subject. "What happened to this valley? A hurricane? A flood?"

"Oh, you're not gonna believe this," Toph cackled. "But it was Katara's FIRST boyfriend who wrecked this place! She's zero for two!"

"AUGH!" Katara screamed. "YOU JUST HAD TO BRING THAT UP, DIDN'T YOU?" She stormed away from Toph in the opposite direction.

"KATARA!" Papyrus called, running after her. "WAIT!"

"Katara!" Aqua chorused, hot on his heels.

After a quite heavy silence, XR brought up, "Some people are just so sensitive."

"Tell me about it," Toph replied.

Sora found Aang sitting on the mid-height branch of a tree deep in the woods. "Hey, Aang!" he called up.

The Avatar was uncharacteristically somber as he sighed, "Hey, Sora."

"Can we talk?" Sora asked.

"No one's stopping you," Aang told him.

Sora leapt, then flipped in midair to jump twice as high before settling on the branch beside Aang. "Hopefully this thing holds our weight."

"Mmhmm."

As Aang slumped, Sora swung his legs. "You know…you remind me of a couple people I know. Like me. Can I tell you something about me?"

"Still no one stopping you."

"When I was younger," Sora related, "I had a crush on one of my two best friends. It kinda hit me like lightning. One day, we were just pals, and then the next…she was the prettiest person I'd ever seen in my life. She was the most important person to me that I could think of. I kinda…messed things up with at least one other really good friend because of it. Not because of her, but because of how I acted around her. Like she was the only one. Then, one day, she was gone, and it threw my whole world out of whack. I went through so much to save her and protect her, and I'd do it all again, because she deserves it. And we got close, near the end. But I realized it couldn't just be her. My other friend, the one I'd ignored and let get to a bad place, was still missing, and I needed him, too. I thought maybe I could fix it right away, and everything could go back to normal, with all three of us together. And the girl I liked and I could finally…start something. But I messed up, I think, because it took a little longer than that. She and I ended up being apart for a year."

"A WHOLE YEAR?" Aang cried.

"Yeah," Sora sighed. "I mean, I was asleep for most of it, so I don't remember much, but it still…felt like a year, once I really got out into the worlds after waking up."

"But what does this have to do with me?" Aang asked.

"From the time I woke up," Sora told him, "I was on another adventure. They made her part of it, to get to me. I knew I wanted to help her. That was never a question. But I assumed it was the same stuff. That I still liked her. Then…I found out that my other friend, the one I wasn't able to save, had been by me the whole time I was asleep, watching over me, making sure I would be okay. That he didn't even want me to know he was doing that. I think he wanted to be sure it wasn't about him. And the longer I went on, the more I realized that the memories of him were beginning to stand out more than the memories of her. That whole year, he'd been adventuring, the same way I was. But she'd stayed home, wishing to bring us back. Having a normal life.

"Then I found them again. Both of them, in the same place. When I saw her…I ran to her. I had to make sure she was real. I'd already hallucinated her a couple of times, for context. But then, when we put our arms around each other…it just hit me how much time we'd spent apart and how different we were. I didn't feel the same way anymore. But when I found my other friend…I just couldn't hold back. I'd missed him so much. I fell to my knees and started crying. It was actually pretty embarrassing."

"I don't think so," Aang told him. "I think that's sweet. I'm still not sure what this has to do with me, though."

"Well," Sora went on, "after that, we did go home. And things were sort of like they had been. Except the girl – Kairi – she'd obviously spent so much time being normal. She does what she can, and now she's an adventurer like the rest of us, but not really in the same way. She doesn't…need to be out there, seeing everything she can. But the guy – Riku – he and I had lived such similar lives, we had more in common than ever before. We took a test together that involved us going to a lot of worlds, and it felt right to be out there together. I don't think she would've felt the same way about it. And while Riku and I were on that mission, we got split up, and still managed to be close to each other. That was when I realized I loved him."

"Still not getting the 'me' part here, Sora."

"I guess that was a bit long-winded," Sora admitted, scratching the back of his head. "But I think you and Katara are a lot like me and Kairi. You two make a great pair of friends. You're kinda headstrong like me, and she's this mix of gentle and assertive that makes me think of Kairi, even. But your roles swapped here. She went out on an adventure, and you stayed back, and I think it showed you how you two are really different. Maybe that you don't go together the way you thought you did. You can still be friends. Friends have all kinds of differences. But I think if you're looking for the one, then it should be someone who passes the test of time with you." He scowled. "Can I tell you another story?"

"Yeah."

"I have another friend," Sora explained. "One I made more recently. He's a great guy, but he has some…problems expressing himself when it comes to girls and women. He had a crush on another friend of ours, and he thought they were destined to be together, kinda like you thought about Katara. But she didn't want to. And he pushed it too far, using evil magic to make her fall for him. …Don't worry. It backfired. But what I'm trying to say is – "

"You think I'd use EVIL MAGIC to make Katara like me?" Aang snapped. "I would never do that to her!"

"No," Sora corrected. "I don't mean exactly that. Um…it's…it's more complicated. More like…if you convince yourself there's only one person for you, then you can end up not knowing what other paths there are to take."

A silence. Then: "Sora?"

"Yeah?"

"What if…I've been so hung up on Katara because I've been feeling it, too? Like we drifted apart. And that scares me, because I don't know what else is supposed to happen."

"Then maybe you should talk to her about it instead of yelling at her for something that you're both going through," Sora told him. "Then…I dunno, maybe find a friend who's got a lot of Darkness in his past and is the edgy angst to your silliness?"

Aang's eyes widened. "I…might know someone like that, actually. But if I moved things too fast with Katara, I definitely can't move too fast with him."

"You like him?"

"…I think I do."

"Then maybe it'll happen." Sora shrugged. "Or maybe it won't. Either way, I'm rooting for you!" He swung a fist.

Aang smiled at him. "Thanks, Sora. You're really smart."

"I'm actually not," Sora laughed, "but I didn't wanna see you and Katara lose your great friendship because of this fight."

"Well, you're friendship-smart."

"Maybe that one's right."

On the other edge of the forest, Katara practically ripped the brush out of her way to make a path, trying to stop her burning tears from escaping her eyes. She could hear the voices of her comrades behind her, trying to catch up, but she didn't want to admit all that was on her mind to them, even after everything.

When a wall of bones slammed down in front of her and froze over with ice to glue them together, blocking her path, she knew she couldn't avoid that fate any longer.

"WHAT?" Katara yelled, whirling around to face Aqua and Papyrus. "Why is this your problem? Why do you even care?"

"Because I want to help you," Aqua told her.

"Maybe you can't!" Katara snapped. "Not everything is your problem to fix!"

"BUT THIS ONE IS MINE," Papyrus sighed.

"HOW?" Katara flung her arms out. "HOW IS THIS YOUR PROBLEM?"

"BECAUSE…" Papyrus shuffled his boots. "BECAUSE I KNEW YOU DIDN'T WANT TO COME BACK HERE FOR SOME REASON, AND I THOUGHT IF I COULD GET YOU TO FACE THAT REASON HEAD-ON, YOU COULD DEAL WITH IT AND FIX IT! BUT I WAS, APPARENTLY…WRONG. VERY WRONG. AND I'M SORRY. YOU'RE FIGHTING WITH YOUR MAYBE-FRIEND-MAYBE-BOYFRIEND BECAUSE OF ME. IF I HADN'T SUGGESTED THIS, THEN…" Now he was the one crying, water rolling down his bony cheeks. "THEN YOU WOULD NEVER HAVE GOTTEN INTO THIS SITUATION!"

She wanted to agree. To blame him. But she knew it wouldn't be right. "No," Katara said softly. "No, Papyrus…I hate that this is happening, but it's better than just living the lie. This was a good idea. I needed to face my problems. I was just…too pigheaded to own up to the fact that anything was wrong."

"Believe me," Aqua told her, "I know pigheaded, and you aren't. But there has to be some way we can help you. Is there something new you need to talk about?"

"No," Katara answered without thinking. Then, in a hoarse squeak, "Yes."

"PLEASE LET ME MAKE IT UP TO YOU BY LISTENING TO YOUR TALE OF WOE!" Papyrus begged. "I WILL FIND YOU A SOLUTION, NO MATTER WHAT!"

"I'm here to listen, too," Aqua agreed.

Katara let out a sigh. "This town. What Toph said. It's true. I mean, he wasn't my boyfriend, not officially, but…Jet was the first crush I can remember. The memory of when I met him still plays out so clearly in my head. He brought down an entire hostile army by himself with just a pair of swords. He was so dashing and cool and confident that I guess I just…fell for him right away. He knew, though. And he used that to get me on his side. The town was occupied by Fire Nation, but also by innocents. He was willing to sacrifice the innocents in order to kill the Fire Nation."

Aqua and Papyrus gasped simultaneously.

"Yeah," Katara huffed. "I know. I sure know how to pick 'em, all right."

Aqua shook her head. "Your mistake with Aang was nothing like your mistake with Jet."

"WHICH WASN'T YOUR FAULT," Papyrus added. "YOU DIDN'T ASK TO GET TRICKED!"

"The signs were all there," Katara muttered. "I just didn't read them."

"NO!" Papyrus asserted. "SIGNS, SCHMIGNS, LA-DI-DIGNS! SOME PEOPLE ARE JUST REALLY GOOD AT BEING YOUR FAKE FRIEND! AND OTHER PEOPLE ARE GOOD FRIENDS WHO DO BAD THINGS THAT LOOK LIKE SIGNS, BUT REALLY JUST MEAN THEY NEED A SMILE AND A HELPING HAND! TRUST ME…I KNEW SOMEONE, ONCE, WHO WAS BOTH. I THINK ABOUT HIM, SOMETIMES. HE MUST BE VERY LONELY."

"Do you wanna talk about – " Katara began.

"THAT'S OFF TOPIC!" Papyrus dismissed. "WE'RE HERE FOR YOU RIGHT NOW! MY PERSONAL ISSUES AND ANGSTY BACKSTORY COME LATER!"

"Aang and Jet couldn't be less alike," Aqua reiterated. "I don't see how – "

"But that's the thing," Katara broke in. "Aang is the least like Jet I've ever known. When I looked back, I thought maybe it was my mistake for falling for someone so confident and dashing and…handsome. And he was driven by his cause. Not that Aang isn't, but…it was different. Which is why I told myself I would never fall for that trick again! When Aang and I started getting close, I realized I could trust him. He would never hurt me! Even if…he wasn't exactly what I wanted. I thought maybe he was what I needed. He's what an actual good guy looks like."

"So you made up feelings for him to be with someone you felt you could trust," Aqua discerned.

"No!" Katara cried, shutting her eyes, shaking her head. "The feelings were there, too! It just wasn't…it wasn't all the way there. I made them out to be more than they were. I thought maybe, since Jet was my first crush, I probably couldn't feel that way about someone again." She pried her eyes open. "He…he died in Ba Sing Se. Is it…is it bad that I still think about him?"

"NO," Papyrus told her. "NOT IF HE MEANT SOMETHING TO YOU. EVEN IF HE MEANT SOMETHING BAD."

"I think your problem is you wanted to erase all of the risk from having a relationship," Aqua diagnosed. "Aang was safe. So you settled for him, even though he wasn't what you wanted."

"What am I supposed to do?" Katara cried. "Go out there and keep dating jerks until I snap out of it and come to my senses?"

"THERE ARE LOTS OF KINDS OF MEN WHO AREN'T JERKS!" Papyrus reminded her. "AM I ANYTHING LIKE STORK? IS STORK ANYTHING LIKE KAZUICHI?"

"Are we really extending our definition of 'not a jerk' to include Kazuichi?" Katara smirked.

"AND WHAT ABOUT ME AND SORA?" Papyrus urged. "HE AND I ARE NOTH – OKAY, THAT'S NOT EXACTLY TRUE. WE'RE ACTUALLY VERY SIMILAR IN A LOT OF RESPECTS. NEVER MIND. VENTUS! ARE SORA AND I LIKE – OKAY, YES, WE ARE. VERY MUCH SO."

"I've noticed," Aqua pointed out.

"THERE ARE MILLIONS OF WORLDS OUT THERE, WITH MILLIONS OF YOUNG MEN!" Papyrus told Katara, gesturing up to the skies. "AND SOMEWHERE OUT THERE IS THAT DASHING, DEBONAIR, DEVIL-MAY-CARE SWASHBUCKLER WHO WILL SWEEP YOU OFF YOUR FEET AND ACTUALLY BE DESERVING OF YOUR LOVE!"

"The one thing I always liked about Aang over Jet was that he could make me smile more," Katara mentioned. "Is that possible, too?"

"OF COURSE IT IS!" Papyrus told her.

"I know it's easy to try and follow the rules of what's safe," Aqua stated. "But I'm learning for myself that the safe path isn't always the right path."

"AND TRUST ME, YOU DO NOT WANT TO ASK SOMEONE ON A DATE BECAUSE YOU FEEL SOCIALLY OBLIGATED TO, ONLY TO FIND OUT THAT YOU'VE BROKEN THEIR HEART FOREVER BY MAKING THEM FALL FOR YOUR INNATE CHARMS," Papyrus added. "NOT THAT THAT'S WHAT YOU DID TO AANG. I'M SPEAKING FROM EXPERIENCE. I'M STILL WAITING TO FIND OUT WHO MY TRUE MX. RIGHT IS."

"But in the meantime," Aqua added, "you need to figure out what you're going to do about Aang. Obviously, you can't keep pretending to love him in a way you don't. But I also get the sense you don't want to lose him, either."

"Riding the chutes in Omashu reminded me of when we first became friends." Katara smiled. "No, he's not what I want in a boyfriend, but…we always have so much fun. And I like being there for him when he's down, because he always does that for me. He cheers me up, and I'm happy to help him."

"Then talk to him," Aqua urged. "It's the only way you can fix things. And you might wanna get it out of the way before some villain puts you in a coma for a decade."

"I don't know what to say," Katara admitted.

"WE CAN HELP!" Papyrus decided.

"Actually," Aqua tried to argue, "I think this is something Katara needs to figure out how to do on her own – "

"BUT WE'RE HER FRIENDS, RIGHT?" Papyrus urged. "WHAT ARE FRIENDS FOR IF NOT TO HELP YOU WITH THE HARD STUFF?"

"I can't ask you to do that," Katara told Papyrus.

"I KNOW," Papyrus told her. "WHICH IS WHY I'M GOING TO DO IT WITHOUT ASKING."

Aqua and Katara grimaced at each other.

Both parties made a rendez-vous with the group around the same time. XR and Toph were deep in the midst of a chat:

"So if I had you watch a shell game for me, your algorithms could pick up where the rock is?"

"Oh, you silly, silly girl. First of all, yes. Second of all, in a shell game, the rock is never actually under any of the shells. It's gonna be up the guy's sleeve."

"Good. You passed the test. So what are your thoughts on turning yourself in for a fake ransom?"

"Been there, done that, bought the T-shirt, kid."

"So this is apparently happening," Sokka said as he gestured to them both, looking from Aang to Katara and back.

Papyrus and Sora rushed up to each other, saying in unison, "I NEED TO TALK TO YOU!"

Papyrus then shook his head; "I MEAN KATARA NEEDS TO TALK TO AANG – "

"Aang needs to talk to Katara!" Sora corrected.

"Are you sure?" Rosalina asked. "They don't seem to be doing much of the talking."

Katara and Aang approached each other gingerly. "…Hi," Katara said.

"Hi," Aang replied.

"We have a lot to discuss, don't we?" Katara said softly.

"Yeah," Aang replied. "We do."

"Can we get a move on first?" Toph groaned. "If we stay here talking about your relationship problems the whole time, we'll never get home in time to design Space Ranger Spin! …I mean go after the WHAM ARMY."

"Yeah," Katara agreed. "Let's keep moving for now. We'll probably need to camp for the night, and – "

"And then we can talk," Aang resolved.

"This is gonna be one awkward ride," Sokka groaned.

"Nonsense!" XR put his arm around Sokka from one side. "Not with the fabulous stylings of XR to entertain and dazzle the whole way there!"

Papyrus put his arm around Sokka from the other side; "AND I SHALL KEEP THE TENSION AT A DECENT AMOUNT OF LEVITY!"

"Great," Sokka muttered as Rosalina tittered and Ven chuckled. "Just…great."

...

Flint hadn't actually left the hotel.

The thing about being sand was that you could hide very easily if you spread yourself thin enough. No one would look twice at some stray grains on the carpet. Now, Flint was more than a few stray grains, but he was quickly finding other ways to camouflage himself. For instance, if he filled the exact area of one of the walls and turned the color of the paint, no one would stop to check if the wall were still a wall or actually a super criminal in disguise.

Perfect.

He wasn't there to enact a grand vengeance on Mozenrath, though the idea had crossed his mind. No, he was lingering out of a vain hope. Hope that Alex hadn't meant what he'd said. Hope that someone, anyone could step up and say that Flint had been right, that it was all too much.

Hope that Flint wasn't now alone. He hadn't realized how much he hated being truly alone.

So he stole around the floor where the Six's apartments were booked for a while, becoming this wall and that wall to listen in. There didn't seem to be much activity. He slid into the room he'd inhabited, allowing himself to take humanoid form as a method of metaphorically catching his breath.

Only to quickly disperse himself through several cabinets when he heard the door's lock being tampered with. Of course Otto could hack a key-card lock; how had he forgotten already? He could already hear the scientist muttering, "All yours. I have other matters to deal with." before making his exit.

Two sets of footsteps, one far heavier than the other. "Somethin' 'bout this don't seem right," Montana admitted. "Not any on my end, mind ya. But yer raidin' yer partner in crime's hideout for his stuff. Don't seem honorable."

"What, you grew a conscious all of a sudden too?" Alex retorted.

Flint could feel the hurt come as an almost physical pang.

"Ain't never been bothered by no CONSCIENCE," Montana insisted. "But I like to think we gotta code of loyalty, 'specially where this new WHAM ARMY's concerned."

"He wanted out. He ain't WHAM ARMY material no more."

"'S'pose yer right. So, what're we lookin' for?"

"Knowin' Flint, he stashed somethin' shiny for himself."

"And ya wanna return it to ol' Moze to prove yer better than him."

"Nah. Want it for myself. Gotta have a nest egg."

Flint had heard enough. He let Alex and Montana work their way deeper into the room, then slid out as an earthen current.

Where to now? Alex's mind was definitely made up. They were a duo no more. Had it really meant so little, all those years they'd been together? How could he be so casually tossed aside?

Or maybe he'd seen this coming from the day he'd rescued the boat, and when relating the story to Alex, he'd just been met with a confused grimace.

He slowly coursed along the wall so as not to attract attention. He had no business being here after all, he supposed.

But then, as he neared the door of one of the other booked rooms, he heard a familiar voice coming from it:

" – that out of your head at once. I won't have you ruining this venture. It's bad enough the imbecile already cut ties, but you know how to behave better."

"Sorry, Doc."

Otto and Electro, Flint realized. The former chastising the latter.

"Now," Otto urged, "what do we do if there are more casualties?"

"…Take it like a real villain. Don't cry about it."

"I should think that would be the LEAST I could ask of you. Though why this even surprises me…you still have so far to go, and every day, I doubt a little more that you will actually get there. You are a liability. A loose cannon. You cannot even follow orders properly. This is why you were left in the Planner stronghold, you know."

"I know. You don't let me forget."

"Was that backtalk, Maxwell?"

"MY NAME'S NOT MAXWELL!" The crackling of electricity.

"I suggest you take that energy and direct it toward our new syndicate's enemies," Otto said sternly. "And I'd best not see you holding back. Really, it's all or nothing with you."

Silence.

"Do you understand me – "

"Yeah. I get it. Just go already."

"I'd best not find you've made the wrong choice…Electro."

Flint waited for Otto to stroll out of the room, leaving Electro alone in it. He was trying to process what he'd just heard. Had Electro also expressed doubts with what they were doing? Flint had always picked up the vibe that Electro saw Otto as a mentor, perhaps a parental figure, someone to emulate. Maybe Otto just saw Electro as the son who didn't turn out right. And what had he meant about Electro being left?

All thoughts ceased when he heard the sound coming from the room now. The sound of gasping. Either Electro was having a panic attack or he was actually crying, and Flint was not about to stand back as either of those things happened.

He let himself into the room, shutting the door behind him, not even caring about subtlety anymore. At first, he went unnoticed. Electro was sitting on the bed, masked, his back to the door, the world dead to him. Shuddering, shoulders shaking in the way someone did when they were failing to hold back tears. So it was that, then.

"Hey!" Flint said suddenly, not really knowing how else to begin.

"Wha - !" Electro whipped around to look at him, nearly falling off the bed. "Flint! Don't sneak up on me!"

"Sorry, man," Flint muttered, instinctively putting a hand behind his head as though that even felt like anything anymore.

"I thought you left," Electro said in awe.

"And you ain't gonna tell no one I didn't, you hear?" Flint pointed at him.

"Why did you stay? Are you looking for revenge?"

"No," Flint sighed. "I'm lookin' for – hey, that don't matter right now! You gonna let the Doc walk all over you? I mean, sure, he's got all those extra arms for walkin', but that don't mean you gotta let him!"

"It's fine," Electro said stonily, turning away from Flint once more. "He was just telling me things I shouldn't forget."

"What the – he was tearin' you down! Look at you! You ain't okay!"

"I haven't been okay since the accident," Electro reminded him.

"That ain't really true, is it?" Flint rushed up beside him in a tidal wave, sitting on the bed beside him without a warning. "Look, I've seen you on the heists. When we get out in the field, you get all…like…shiny. Literally and not-literally."

"I thought I told you not to surprise me," Electro muttered.

"No," Flint countered, "you told me not to sneak up on you. That's different."

A long pause. Then: "How can you stay like that all the time?"
"Like what?"

"Making bad jokes and smiling. Especially now."

It was a subtle shift in tone, but Flint now realized that beneath the mask, Electro was smiling, even if only a little. It looked like Flint's sarcasm had at least gotten him to snap out of his funk briefly. "I dunno," Flint said with a shrug. "Just me, I guess."

"At least you know who you are."

"I thought you did, too. You said all that on the chopper."

Electro's fingers tightened on the blanket, scrunching up the cloth. "It's complicated. Why do you even care?"

"I dunno," Flint admitted. "I guess I just…heard the Doc insultin' ya and I couldn't just let that slide."

"And how do you know I won't sell you out? You're supposed to be long gone."

"You just don't seem like the snitch type," Flint stated.

A sigh. "I'm guessing Alex didn't either. I'm also guessing he's the reason you stayed back."

"Yeah, well, ship sailed," Flint muttered. "Over and done. Dynamic duo is now a dynamic uno."

"I'm…sorry. I know you two were close."

"Eh, it's no big." Flint couldn't hide the dismay in his voice. "I mean, I started out alone, once. I can do it again. Y'know, you're pretty lucky. You've always had the Doc by ya, givin' ya new crime pals since you went rogue."

"Yeah," Electro grunted. "Lucky."

"So. You gonna tell me what's eatin' you or not?"

"Nothing's – "

"I heard you cryin'."

"I don't cry. Getting any water on my face is…not a good feeling."

"So what were you doin'?"

Electro waited a while before he found the strength to choke it out: "Trying not to."

"C'mon, that's just as bad! So what's the big deal that got the Doc to put you in the doghouse?"

"This WAS the right path for me," Electro asserted. "All of this – the feeling that I'm doing something. Being able to take what I want. Having freedom even when I'm locked behind a mask. Being able to destroy the city just if I want to! Going toe-to-toe with Spider-Man! It's what I never knew I wanted. And you weren't wrong. I liked having a whole Sinister Six to share it with. It feels right, now."

"And…?"

"And." Electro's gaze was now pointed ahead and straight down. "When Quentin shot that woman, that didn't feel right anymore. I know that's insane. I've already tried to hurt, maybe even kill so many people. It's who I am!"

"But did anybody ever get hurt?" Flint challenged. "Spider-Man don't count."

"…No," Electro admitted. "I…I tried to talk about it with the Doc, but…he won't have any of it. How could this mean nothing to him? She was somebody, like us. A nobody, like we all used to be. Why do I even care? This is my life. This is what I was MEANT to to do. If I'm afraid of getting my hands dirty…then…" His voice was almost a croak. "Then maybe I don't know who I am anymore."

"Hey, hey!" Flint broke in. "There's no one right way to be a bad guy, y'know." He raised a hand without thinking, brought it close to Electro's shoulder, withdrew it. "Sorry. Forgot you don't like bein' touched."

"I don't like being touched without a warning," Electro corrected. "But I know you hate getting too close to me."

"How many times do I gotta tell ya the boat changed everything? I ain't afraid of ya. I ain't afraid of NOTHIN', now."

Almost a laugh from beneath the mask. "Then…if you want."

As he felt the earthen hand settle on his shoulder, Electro had to silently admit to himself that it felt good. No, he couldn't sense more than the pressure through his suit, but it was a different kind of contentment – knowing he wasn't alone. Knowing he had someone to listen. Knowing he had someone who actually was his friend in villainy.

"Anyway," Flint went on, "as I was sayin', there ain't no one right way to be the bad guy. So ya don't like killin', or at least not the people who didn't have it comin'. You knew that was me. Ya think I don't call myself bad anymore? Nah. Boat schmoat; I still take what I want when I want it. Just 'cause I don't got adrenaline anymore don't mean I don't feel the rush. 'Sides, what am I s'posed to do otherwise? Get a job in a cubicle? Blegh."

"I could…go back to repair work," Electro muttered. "I could probably be better at it with my power."

"Is that what you WANNA do, though?"
"No."

"Then don't. Simple." It finally struck Flint for the first time what they were really talking about. "So wait. This whole time…you were shaken by what went down today, too?"

"I didn't want to be," Electro admitted. "They threw you out. I wasn't gonna be next."

"Yeah, but you know that if you run with this crowd, it's gonna keep happenin'. You cool with that? Be honest with me."

"Anything's better than getting left behind again," Electro replied, voice shaking, indicating he was going back to the verge of tears. "I'm already a screwup."

"Wha – who said that? No, wait. Lemme guess. The Doc."

"But he's right," Electro went on. "I am a loose cannon. When he hijacked the city, I followed my own orders instead of his. I thought that was how it worked. Or maybe I wasn't thinking and I just wanted Spider-Man fried like a potato chip. But I ruined everything. The whole thing failed because of me. And the Doc…he…"

He trailed off. Flint was suddenly struck by the horrid implications he was hearing. "He left you behind?"

"Yeah. Taught me real quick not to step out of line."

"Geez, he just left you layin' around for the law to find? That ain't right. That ain't how this was supposed to work!"

"He…" Electro whispered. "He didn't leave me for the police."

"What now?"

"I don't even know why I'm telling you this."

"Eh, me neither," Flint resolved. "But I'm here, I'm listenin', and I wanna know."

"You always were like that," Electro muttered. "No one was surprised you went…soft. But I guess I'm one to talk now. I…appreciate it."

"Stop beatin' around the bush and tell. Me. What. Happened."

"The base was underwater," Electro choked. "Spider-Man – I – it got wrecked. Flooded. The Doc had enough of me not listenin', so he left me behind while it was filling up. Had to get dragged outta there by Spider-Man. Worst humiliation he coulda – "

"HE JUST LEFT YOU TO DIE?" Flint yelled.

"Not so loud!" Electro growled. "Do you want them to find you? And it's fine. I got the lesson. Step out of line and you get to be the next day's headline."

"Wha – Electro!" Sandman hissed, trying to keep his voice at a lower volume. "He left you to die, to actually drown, knowin' what happens with you an' water, and you just…you're talkin' about the humiliation?"

"Maybe I don't want to think about the rest of it," Electro growled. "If I don't have the Six, where do I go? And he IS the Six. He…he made me who I am."

"No." Flint shook his head. "No, no, no. You're the one who made you who you are. You seriously put up with him doin' that to ya 'cause – " Suddenly, he froze, changing tracks entirely. "Electro."

"What now?"

"I'm gonna give you three seconds to tell me not to hug you, got it? One. Two!"

Electro stayed silent. And Flint curled around him, holding him close, tightly but gently, as though he were something very valuable just recovered from a recent robbery.

"Geez," Flint whispered, "how much did you put up with?"

"I…" Electro began to shake again. "I don't…"

"Do NOT lie to me right now."

"…Everything…I put up with everything…"

"You know you can't hurt me, right?"

Electro saw the invitation for what it was. He leaned into Flint, wrapping his own arms around the bulky mass of sand, resting his head on the broad shoulder offered to him. No one had done this to him since he was human, he realized. He'd told himself he didn't miss it.

"Who am I?" he whispered softly.

"You're like me," Flint told him. "A guy who wants to have some fun without the nitty-gritty. Look…you don't have to do this. You could go off on your own, make a one-man criminal empire, store up as much of the shiny stuff as you wanted without ever – " Then it hit him. "Wait. Wait a minute! You could come with me!"

"With you?"

"Yeah!" Flint disentangled from Electro, and Electro realized he really didn't want the contact to stop – but Flint must've known, for he kept his hands on Electro's forearms. "What's the point of me leavin' and you leavin' and both of us bein' all mopey and lonely? Not that I'd be mopey or lonely LONG, that is – "

"I know."

"We could do our own thing!" Flint was grinning now. "Jewel heists! Bank robberies! Maybe a hostage, but the kind we return when the ransom gets paid up! Heck, vandalism just for fun! You ever tagged a wall before? Or how about blowin' up a demolition site early?"

"You've blown up a demolition site?"
"Nah, but it's on my to-do list. Looks fun." Flint was now positively beaming. "Who needs the Sinister Six when we can be the Dynamic Duo?"

"Dynamic duo," Electro repeated. "So…I'd replace Alex."

"Well, uh – " Flint sputtered. "I mean – it's not – I don't – "

"It's fine."

"No," Flint asserted. "No, it ain't. Look…I ain't gonna lie. I'm gonna miss the big guy. Still hurts, what he said back there. And when he was cleanin' out my place. Long story. And maybe I am lookin' for a pal to fill the void. Big whoop. Doesn't make you him. Thinkin' about it, actually, I don't even know you that well. Kinda wanna know you better."

"You do?"

"Yeah! You're always the gung-ho powerhouse of the team!"

"You're more like a powerhouse," Electro corrected. "And you've been doing this longer than I have. …Maybe I want to know you better, too."

"So you're in?"

"I…can't leave him." Electro's voice cracked.

"If the answer's no, that's fine," Flint told him. "I'll get outta your life. We pretend this never happened. But I'm just gonna say one thing, and this ain't about me or Alex or nothin'. It's about you. You don't wanna leave him? Well, he left you to die. For real. Think about that."

After what seemed an eternity, Electro nodded. "He…never did think of me as anything but a tool, did he?"

"Don't look that way to me."

Electro sensed it was more complicated than that. Perhaps it was the only way Otto knew how to care about people. But it was also becoming increasingly apparent that he needed something more than what Otto could offer. "All right. I'm in. I don't like that Mozenrath guy, anyway."

"Yeah, not a big fan either."

"Then let's go."

Flint patted Electro's shoulder twice; "You an' me, pal! Just the two of us – " Then he froze. "…And Beck."

"What? What about him? He's the one who pulled the trigger!"

"Yeah," Flint reminded Electro, "but didn't you notice he ain't said a word since? I think it's eatin' him up inside. All that guilt. It's Mr. Hoity-Toity-Glove-Hand and his crew and the Doc who made a big deal out of the kill. I ain't so sure Beck ever wanted it."

"Then we should ask him to come with us."

"Bet the guy's hurtin' real bad. Least we could do is give him a new lease. Let him know we don't hold it against him, and he don't gotta do that to win our respect."

"I've always wanted to know more about him, too," Electro admitted.

"The guy's a theater buff," Flint agreed. "Kinda hard not to at least be curious."

"And then?"

"And then we blow this joint."

"I like that."

From one floor up, a scrying window relayed the entire conversation to an audience of two, sitting on the side of their own bed as their third roommate snored away in the kitchen cupboard.

"Don't," the Huntsman warned.

"Give me one good reason why I shouldn't," Mozenrath seethed. "Not only did he turn back around and disobey me out of SPITE, but now he's turning my own recruits against me!"

"Powerful as you are," the Huntsman reminded him, "challenging a man who can shift into any shape known to the imagination with solid density in tandem with a man who emits thousands of volts by the second would be a new low for you in terms of horrible decisions."

"You don't think I can take them?"

"Stroking your ego is not worth it, Mozenrath. No. You can't. Nor can I. After all, the huntstaff relies on electrical current as much as it does its reverse-engineered crystal power. Electro could turn it on both of us instantly."

"THEN WHAT AM I SUPPOSED TO DO?"

Across the penthouse, Hämsterviel stirred, muttering, "Celery sticks…"

"If I may offer a suggestion," the Huntsman told him, "and you've every right to pretend it was your own idea…they want Quentin Beck."

"And they're going to get him because, like the two of them, Quentin Beck is a COWARD."

"Not if you get to him first," the Huntsman suggested. "Speak to him the way Flint did to Electro. Convince him of his value, and emphasize that he can and will desensitize to the concept of murder. Anyone does, if given enough chances to commit it."

"You come close to scaring me sometimes," Mozenrath said casually. "I like that."

"No more sweet nothings. Quentin. Now."

"It would be a shame to lose him," Mozenrath sighed. "The other two may have had the power, but he has a certain…je ne sais quoi."

"Je sais, et c'est mise en scène, esthétique, et attitude," the Huntsman replied. "Comme toi. NOW GO."

So Mozenrath vanished, leaving only traces of a blue haze and an unspoken appreciation for not having realized earlier the Huntsman would of course have been polyglot, given his prior adventures. The Huntsman pivoted to lay back in the bed, the scrying window having vanished along with his boyfriend and leaving him nothing but a shaky confidence that Mozenrath could be a diplomat.

...

This is the tale of Ayam Aghoul and Rémington Smisse.

They'd followed Mim out into town before she'd decided, "You know, I think I'm going to have a me day today, because I deserve it. See you later, my repulsive darling."

She spun and blew a kiss vaguely in the direction of both of them before disappearing.

"That was meant for me," Aghoul and Rémington said in unison before glaring daggers at each other.

"You've been stealing her affections away from me this whole time!" Aghoul accused, pointing directly at Rémington.

"I won't deny it," Rémington said with a wink. "But what exactly makes you think you're better for her than me?"

"Oh, please. You're a pretty boy who only plays in the shallow end of the Dead Sea! …Which isn't really a sea. More of a lake. Why they don't call it the 'Dead Lake,' I don't really – "

"I don't care."

"THE POINT IS that you can't HANDLE all of Mim! Now, me?" Aghoul smirked. "I'm the master of the macabre."

"Also ugly," Rémington pointed out.

"You realize that's a point in my favor, with Mim," Aghoul countered.

Rémington smirked back at him. "Oh, really? Because my looks drive even the wildest of women…more wild, I guess."

"And how would they know when you keep that bandanna on all the time? No one knows if you're pretty OR ugly!"

"It's an aesthetic. And unlike yours, it does its job."

"That does it," Aghoul growled. "I say we settle this with a duel!"

Rémington rolled his eyes; "You're already dead, unless you mean for me to kill you all the way, in which case, you know I can't do that."

"Exactly! I already win!"

"And there's nothing in this about the thrill of the competition for you?" Rémington posed.

"Oh, you poor, sad living creature," Aghoul replied. "I forget how much they need adrenaline in order to make their lives have meaning. Very well. We'll have to find some OTHER way to solve this little love triangle."

"It seems we will."

They stared each other down for a good minute before it occurred to them both. And neither wanted to be the first one to admit it.

"Well…" Rémington tapped his fingers together. "There is…maybe one thing we haven't thought of…"

"Do share," Aghoul urged him. "Whatever yours is, it's got to be better than mine."

"You have an idea, too?"

"Well, yes, but it's, er…it's not a very good one."

"You want her," Rémington outlined. "I want her. More like a V shape than a triangle right now."

"…Oh, dear. We just had the same idea, didn't we?"

"You say it first, because if I say it and yours wasn't it, I have no chance to double back."

Aghoul sighed in defeat. "We haven't tried to see if it really IS a triangle after all."

"All right," Rémington said with a nod, "so I don't have to double back. It just seems…well, you and me, we're the same sort of blackhearted soul, right?"

"I mean, save for mine being cobbled together out of fragments of the doomed and resurrected in a patchwork body, that would be accurate, yes."

"So maybe…perhaps if we…" Rémington gave a shrug.

"Hmm." Aghoul thought it over. "Well, it's always been women for me, you know, but you've got a slender enough waist that you're passable for a woman in the dark."

"…I'm not sure if I should be offended."

"And you?" Aghoul posed. "Any men in your life?"

"I tried with one," Rémington recalled, "though that was more of an experiment than anything that was going to go anywhere. Wasn't the best match for me anyhow. Didn't brush his teeth half the time. Combine that with the fact that he ate too much grilled Gobball and kissing him tasted like a Gobball barbecue gone wrong. The point is, I maybe haven't given it a fair shake…"

"We appear to have the day to ourselves," Aghoul suggested. "Shall we?"

He extended a hand, and Rémington just stared at it before saying, "Let's at least have a little more conversation before we get to the hand-holding."

"I agree. There's a lovely tea shop on the corner."

"All right."

The proprietor of the Jasmine Dragon, a somewhat short and thickset man sporting a white beard, turned to smile broadly at the two men who'd entered his shop. "Ah, welcome and good afternoon!" Iroh said with outstretched arms. "Come, come! Let me get you a seat!"

He ushered Rémington and Aghoul, who seemed to be in a state of permanent wide-eyed confusion, over to a table in the corner. Secluded. Cozy.

"And what is the nature of your visit to Ba Sing Se today?" Iroh asked.

"Well…er…" Rémington fumbled the words.

"We're on a date," Aghoul groaned.

"Ah, a date!" Iroh reiterated, breaking into a wide smile. "Then it will be lavender tea you want!"

And with that, he disappeared into the kitchen area.

"Is that how he takes everyone's order?" Rémington wondered out loud.

"Perhaps," Aghoul replied.

And then they were silent for a very long time.

"So," Aghoul ventured after a while. "Any good…robberies lately?"

"The usual."

And back to silence.

"Ah, so nervous," Iroh said with a smile as he placed their teacups before them. "A first date, then."

"Yeah," Rémington and Aghoul chorused, less than enthusiastically.

Iroh left them to their tea, which they each sampled. "Not bad," Rémington remarked.

"I hate it," Aghoul spat. "It tastes so…"

"Like Chochanna's lemon-lavender cake," Rémington mused.

"Who's Chochanna?" Aghoul asked, now intrigued.

"Oh, no one much," Rémington said casually. "Just one of the women I'd been with before I met my sweet sorcière. A baker by trade. She had amazing buns…in more ways than one." He scowled. "But I suppose you don't talk about your past endeavors on a date – "

"Rémy!" Aghoul gasped, eyes wide. "This is honestly the most invested I've been in your conversation since we entered this city!" His smile settled into a definite smirk. "Tell me more about this…baker."

"Every man wanted her," Rémington said with a smirk of his own. "Pink hair you could get lost in. Shaped like an hourglass – Chochanna, not her hair. Beautifully tan. Lucky for me, even though every man wanted her…I was the only one who got her." His smirk broadened. "Lucky for everyone else, I had no intention of keeping her. Yes, she could cook, but the rest of the housewife package wasn't worth it."

Aghoul cackled. "I'm almost jealous!"

"And what about you?" Rémington asked. "Who are some of the more…exquisite encounters you've had?"

"Oh, you meet all sorts of devilish delights traveling out and about in the Netherworld and beyond," Aghoul stated. "Now, mortal women were easier to wear my enchantments that bound them to me, but the women I've been with, no mortal could hope to live up to."

"That's a bold claim."

"Let's see," Aghoul recounted. "There was the one who utilized hallucinations to torment her victims. Only appeared to the mentally ill or the half-blind. Because who would believe them? They gave her all sorts of different names. The victims, I mean. Now, she asked me to give her a name, and I couldn't pass on 'Alya Ucination,' now, could I? Oh, it was worth it to be caressed by all three of her beautiful arms, especially the one with the claws. And her TEETH! Sharp as needles! Too bad the bite marks don't last long on this flesh. …Mim's are better, of course."

"I know. Mine actually last."

"Now, Rémy." Aghoul placed his chin in his hands, elbows on the table, looking to Rémington with what might actually have been adoration. "Was Miss Chochanna the best you had before Mim?"

"One of them," Rémington replied. "They're difficult to rank."

"Then tell me about the rarest jewel. Any royalty, ever?"

Rémington let out a chuckle. "You remember Prince Armand of the Sadida Kngdom?"

"Was he Mr. Grilled Gobball?"

"No," Rémington clarified. "His long-distance relationship with Princess Aurora of the Osamodas Kingdom is the talk of the town. Now, she's a beauty. Golden hair, blue skin the color of the nightfall right after sunset, a pair of sharp little horns. As far as the official records go, she's a virgin. Well, the official records are wrong."

"OHOHO!"

"Turns out the princess had a soft spot for rogues," Rémington continued. "Her father chased me out, of course, but she sent me several tragic love letters mourning that circumstance kept us apart. Yes…the circumstance that I didn't want to go through the rules and regulations of being a consort. Her old man did me a favor by banning our romance."

"Good for him."

"Now you tell me about one. Was Jasmine your only royal?"

"Oh, technically Jasmine never happened," Aghoul sighed. "Though…I suppose that doesn't have to be how I tell it…"

"I like the way you think."

"But actually, I managed to have a mind-blowing night with someone even more powerful and well-known than the princess of Agrabah. You know the Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse?"

"It's a legend I've heard, yeah."

"Well," Aghoul revealed, "turns out in truth, they're horsePEOPLE. Some of which are women."

"OH." Rémington's eyes widened. "So you had – one of – you're making this up, aren't you?"
"Absolutely not! Cross my heart and hope to live! See, if I were making this up, I'd tell you I managed to get War into my bed, but War is as much of a challenge as she is a beauty. A red, red rose of temptation and metallic murder. Now, Pestilence, on the other hand…I suppose I need to throw in that she is older than she looks. By about a few millennia, actually. Word on the street is she actually retired, handed the horse down to some yuppie, can't remember the name. I'll always remember Pestilence anyhow. Her very touch would make boils sprout on your skin and give you the most horrible rashes. Of course, Mim's are still better."

"I know. You're not even mortal. You probably don't feel how good she REALLY is with her poison burns."

"All right," Aghoul said, "you're up next."

"Hmmm…" Rémington thought it over. "Ah, yes. Toxxine. How could I forget Toxxine? That woman's poison play in the bedroom was second to one."

"And I think I can guess that one," Aghoul chuckled. "So you're into poison, are you?"
"She had a way with knives, too."

"Good to remember, if this goes anywhere between us," Aghoul muttered. "You know, I had a lover in the Netherworld who was pretty good at knifeplay herself."

"Oh?"

"Noora Morse. That was her name when I first met her. Thought she was a mortal! Tricked her into marrying me, the whole shebang, when all of a sudden it turns out she baited me into doing exactly that so I could become her next victim! I'll never forget those wonderful days, being chained down to the iron bed while she debated between using the sickle and the hand saw. I don't think she was expecting me to have as much fun as she was. Well, then, one day, the whole routine just got so boring – the exact way Mim makes sure it DOESN'T – so I bumped her off. When I run into another gorgeous mortal woman, Hasna Soul, who could've been her spitting image. I give her a certain enchanted necklace, I take her into the tomb where we'll be spending the rest of our afterlives – at least until I get bored, anyway – but then, it turns out, she was another incarnation of Noora out to get revenge! Oh, I fell in lust with her all over again, only twice as hard because now she'd figured out how to use dental tools. Then I fell into BOREDOM twice as hard and made sure that she STAYED in the Netherworld on the second go."

"You're leaving out the most important part," Rémington urged.

"Ah, yes!" Aghoul realized. "Piercing green eyes, both times. Long raven hair. Otherwise the two bodies couldn't have been more different. One thin as a willow, and the other with some meat on her bones. Can't give the game away by picking the same figure every time, you know." He chuckled once more. "All right, let's really get into it. Your world is made up of twelve races, correct?"

"Yes."

"Which one is the most enticing?"

"Hmm." Rémington thought it over. "Well, NOT the Enutrofs. Gold diggers, you know."

"Ah, yes."

"Sacriers know how to have some fun and balance pain with pleasure, of course. Eniripsas are the other side of the coin – actual healing in every kiss. But while some may say this choice is bland, the all-around best lovers tend to be Cra. Lithe, agile, passionate."

"And what does Mim think of this?"
"Enough to make her ears more pointed on occasion."

They both sighed. Then Aghoul remarked wistfully, "You know…this reminds me of the wonderful days in the Gregory House."

"What, is that some kind of rude doctor?"

"Wh – why would you think that? No! I'm talking about the hotel that resides on the edge of Purgatory and the Netherworld. AND NO, NOT THE NEW ONE THAT WENT UP FOR DEMON REHABILITATION! THAT ONE'S LOCATED LOWER DOWN!" Aghoul let a dreamy smile overtake his face. "The patron, Gregory, was one of my closest bosom friends in the realm of the undead. He made sure to stock his hotel with all sorts of delightful torments to pass the time. I helped him design some of them, even. It wasn't long before the two of us found a kindred spirit: a fast-talking, good-humored poltergeist named Betelgeuse."

Rémington's brow went up; "What kind of name is 'Beetlejuice'?"

"The kind you don't want to say a third time in this conversation," Aghoul warned. "Ah, yes, the three of us were the most eligible bachelors in the Netherworld, and when we wanted to throw a party, well, the Gregory House would be lit up for a decade at a time! We filled up our little black books rather quickly, all considered. Oh, but of course, it all went down the toilet in the end."

"What happened?"

"I took the one woman Gregory couldn't stand me having."

"I see," Rémington said, though really, he didn't know the half of it. "So they were your WHAM ARMY before the WHAM ARMY, then."

"More or less," Aghoul confirmed. "But I wouldn't want to go back. The WHAM ARMY is the real afterlife of the party!"

"And your days of enslaving wives with necklaces are over."

"Well, not necessarily," Aghoul admitted. "None that I actually care about. No, the most special of them get to be free of the ball and chain. But I suppose Mim wouldn't mind too terribly if I had a little fun…"

"Heh." Rémington smiled. "You try it and I might just be tempted to steal the necklace."

One could almost see the gears click into place inside Aghoul's head. "…But what if it were the other way around?"

The sun was beginning to set as Aghoul waited for his date in the square. Rémington darted from shadow to shadow, sprinting up to him and pulling his cape aside to show the haul he'd pinned to it.

"See one you like?" he asked with a grin.

"Hrmmm…" Aghoul looked over the stolen wares Rémington had scored. "This one!" He reached forward to pluck a pendant carved from nephrite jade, a dragon curled up in a circle, off the small hoard. "Don't let the Huntsman know, of course."

"I can't make promises."

"Now," Aghoul muttered, taking the heavy circular pendant in one hand and summoning a cluster of small bones to the other, "let's work some magic."

His hand holding the bones crunched into a fist, crushing them into a fine powder. He then lifted this fist over the pendant, raining down the enchanted bones, which sparkled almost enticingly. Once he was done, the nephrite seemed that much more luminous.

"All right, then," he muttered. "Let's find the best specimen here. Eenie, meenie, miney…you."

His eyes had alit upon a young woman waiting outside a shop, presumably for a friend or family member. Her attention was out of focus, eyes practically glazed over as she stared into nothingness. She was indeed very beautiful.

Aghoul crept up to her, holding out the pendant, ready to slip it over her neck from behind, approaching closer and closer without her noticing –

"WHAT ARE YOU DOING WITH THE BOULDER'S MOST PRECIOUS GEM?"

The woman turned around and gasped at the sound of the deep voice that had emanated from behind Aghoul. The next thing Aghoul knew, he'd been picked up by the back of his thaube's neck and was being hoisted into the air, sandals dangling off the ground.

"Honey!" the woman gasped. "I didn't even notice him!"

It occurred to Aghoul that this woman hadn't been waiting for just a friend.

Her boyfriend spun Aghoul around to face him, and oh, was he ever an enormous and intimidating man. "THE BOULDER DOES NOT APPRECIATE YOU TRYING TO ASSAULT HIS GIRLFRIEND!" the man screamed into Aghoul's face.

Aghoul gave a nervous laugh. "Oh, I wasn't about to assault her! I was merely going to give her a gift – "

With his free hand, the Boulder ripped the nephrite pendant from Aghoul's grip. "What is this?" he wondered out loud. Then a sudden gasp: "A WATER TRIBE ENGAGEMENT NECKLACE?"

"Well, it is an engagement necklace of a sort," Aghoul chuckled. Then his face fell. "Oh, wait, I shouldn't have said that at all – "

The Boulder's hand shook, and the nephrite fell into a thousand fragments, the enchantment broken along with the stone. Aghoul wasn't sure if it was earthbending or if the Boulder was just that strong. Either way, he was in trouble.

"THE BOULDER IS GOING TO CRUSH YOU INTO FINE DUST!" the Boulder yelled.

When a short-handled dagger collided with his arm, forcing him to drop Aghoul and howl in pain.

"SWEETIE!" The Boulder's girlfriend rushed to her partner.

Rémington seized Aghoul's shoulders from behind, then lifted one hand up to catch his dagger, which had spun back around on its planned trajectory. "Let's get out of here!" Rémington hissed.

"The Boulder will endure the pain," the Boulder told his girlfriend. "However…" He glared murderously at Aghoul and Rémington. "THOSE TWO WILL NOT!"

"RUN!" Rémington hissed, turning to bolt.

And grabbing Aghoul's hand in the process to drag him along.

They rushed halfway across the city, taking every twist and turn in order to escape the rampaging Boulder and his supportive girlfriend (who wasn't very good at fighting but was very good at cheering on), and only once they'd lost the trail of the two (which only happened because the Boulder realized getting medical aid for his knife wound was more important than murdering a pair of perverts) did they realize that they had indeed progressed to the hand-holding stage. They slowed their pace as they entered a heretofore unseen area of Ba Sing Se: a circular arena marked by a large fountain. Lanterns blazing with fire floated in its waters and swung from cords that decorated the area; their light blazed against the recently-set night.

"It's kinda romantic, isn't it?" Rémington realized.

"Yes," Aghoul agreed. "It certainly is."

"Do you…have in mind what I have in mind?"

"Perhaps."

They gave each other a look: a sincere smile. Then let go of each other's hand in order for Rémington to draw his pistols and Aghoul to summon his scythe.

Bullets and blade collided with every single lantern, snuffing out the lights one by one by one in rapid succession. Once the square was completely dark, the two broke out into raucous laughter.

"Let's see any young sweethearts try to have a moment here NOW!" Aghoul cackled.

"Nothing like putting a damper on a date you won't even see," Rémington sighed. "You know…we really are more alike than I thought."

"We are, aren't we? I can honestly say I had fun on this little excursion."

"Me, too."

"…You know, you really don't look that bad in the dark."

"I could say the same."

They took a couple tentative steps toward each other, locking eyes (or thinking they did, anyway; the lack of lanterns made it hard to tell). Hesitating at the last possible moment.

Then Rémington bent down, Aghoul straightened up his posture just enough, and the latter grabbed onto the former, pulling him close for a sudden, deep kiss.

Which was broken immediately when both men backed away from each other and retched.

"You taste even worse than grilled Gobball!" Rémington choked. "It's like something died!"

"Because I AM dead, you nitwit!" Aghoul huffed. "And that was the worst kiss I've ever had in my life. Hmm. No, men don't do it for me."

"I still can't tell. Two bad samples."

"So…is the duel back on?"

Before any violence could break out, Mim appeared in a sparkle. "I can't leave you alone for two hours, can I?" she scolded.

"Where were you?" Rémington asked.

"Sewage processing," Mim answered. "Utterly non-magical, of course, run by this bending nonsense. Better than my homeworld's, though. All the same, if I were you, I wouldn't drink the water around here for a couple of weeks."

"Oh, I do so adore you," Aghoul sighed.

"Mim," Rémington said firmly, "we need you to settle a debate."

"I can see that!" Mim put her hands on her hips. "Normally, I'm all for the two of you causing mindless violence, but I'm in NO MOOD to have to wait to cash in a resurrection to get one of you back!"

"So…you care about both of us," Rémington realized.

"You loved us equally all along, didn't you?" Aghoul asked.

"Of course not," Mim said flippantly. "Aghoul's my favorite."

"HA!" Aghoul leapt around to point up to Rémington's face.

"He's absolutely disgusting!" Mim said in a smitten tone. "And hideous, and ill-mannered, and everything a woman could ever want!"

"But I am still part of this equation, right?" Rémington confirmed.

"Of course," Mim told him. "You feel more pain than he does. I can't pass that up behind closed doors. And your beauty and grace make you all the more enticing to corrupt. You'll just have to settle for second best."

Rémington thought it over. "Actually, I think I was just waiting to hear that you didn't think he was objectively prettier than me. Turns out, I don't actually mind being your second best." He shrugged. "Well, that's solved."

"If it makes you feel any better," Mim told them, "you're both ranked above Hannibal Roy Bean."

"I'll take it," Aghoul and Rémington said in unison.

"So," Mim suggested, "Ghoulie, would you do me the honor of infusing candy with needles and passing it out near the orphanage?"

"I would love nothing more, my dear!" Aghoul said with a grin.

She put out her hand, and Aghoul gladly took it. This time, it felt like it fit. "Oh, and Rémy," Mim suggested, "do steal me something nice while I'm gone. I'll make it worth your while later."

"And I get a second heist and some me time!" Rémington resolved. "Everyone wins."

The two sorcerers disappeared, the rogue skipped off happily to collect more of other people's belongings, and all was horrible, as it should be.

...

It was one thing when the Lapidaries found themselves lost in a cornfield. It was made exponentially worse when Peter decided to say, "Well, this is corny."

"That's it," Wuya declared, lighting up both hands. "I'm burning the whole field down."

"You're really about to blow our cover because he's a tosser?" Draco sighed.

"And also because I'm sick of looking at the same cornstalks for hours on end," Wuya added.

"It's been – " Draco looked up at the sun. "I don't know HOW long it's been, but it hasn't been HOURS! The sun's barely moved!"

"Oh, look at Mr. Smart Guy, tracking the sun," Jack mocked. "Bet ya can't tell the time when it's overcast, now, can you?"

"I don't – how is that AT ALL related to anything I've just said?"

"I say burn it down!" Yzma cheered.

"Yeah!" Zevon agreed. "Burn it down!"

They became a twofold chorus of "BURN IT DOWN! BURN IT DOWN!"

"All right," Wuya declared. "Say goodbye to the corn."

"Okay, for serious, this is gonna raise some huge red flags," Garfield broke in. "Don't do it. I'm your resident pyro, I'm saying 'don't set something on fire,' even I think this is a bad idea. That means you gotta listen."

"Oh, all right." Wuya sighed as she dismissed the fireballs from her hands. "I suppose you have a point there."

"Thank you, Wuya," Peter said with a wide grin. "For lending us an…" He plucked a unit of corn away from the nearest stalk, tossing it to her. "Ear."

"…That's it."

The cornfield exploded in an emerald blaze. When the fires died, there was nothing left but eight WHAM ARMY members standing in a wasteland of ash.

Everyone at the arts and crafts barn gaped at them in shock.

Realizing they had an audience, the Lapidaries took on expressions reminiscent of deer caught in oncoming traffic. "…Isn't this just the strangest weather we're having?" Yzma said altogether too loudly. "I mean, I'd heard of it raining fish before, but this is something else!" A nervous giggle.

The Gems working on their various art projects muttered amongst themselves, but ultimately decided it checked out, given that they knew so little about Earth weather patterns anyway, and they all went back to crafting.

Zevon was the first to stride closer to the barn. "What is this associamanimation?" he asked. "A textile societary?"

"It's an open meepmorps and crafts facility," a voice sounding just two degrees off disinterested informed him. Zevon looked to the speaker; of course, he had no idea who it was, but it would have been a familiar face to certain foes of his.

"Meepmorps?" Zevon repeated.

"Actually, you'd call it 'art,' probably," Lapis Lazuli told him.

"Would he, though?" Wuya whispered to Yzma.

"You can join in at any station you want," Lapis said. "I guess."

"Hrrrrmmmm." Zevon thought it over, then hemmed and hawed, with a literal "Hemmm" and a literal "Hawwww" in his musings. He then turned around to his team; "Do we like arts and crafts?"

"We – " Yzma began.

"WE SHALL TAKE YOU UP ON YOUR OFFERTUNITY!" Zevon proclaimed, spinning back around to Lapis. Mentally patting himself on the back for being such a good team leader.

"At least he's trying," Wuya sighed. "He's failing, but he's trying."

"Hey, speak for yourself!" Irmaplotz spat at her. "Just point me to the macramé table and – "

"That way." Lapis pointed off to the side.

With a yelp, Irmaplotz sped off almost fast enough to leave a fire in her trail, with Jack close behind. "WE ARE GOING TO MAKE SO MANY OWLS!" she shrieked, Jack whooping in agreement.

"Lapis!" A short, green Gem barreled across the yard. "LAPIS! LOOK!" She held up a T-shirt emblazoned with what appeared to be the logo of a camp. "I made an exact replica of the Camp Pining Hearts uniform! This is going to be soooooo fun to bingewatch in!" She then looked toward the newcomers. "Oh. Who're they?"

"I think they're here for the crafts," Lapis told the other gem.

"…What happened to the corn?"
"Don't know."

The green woman shrugged. "Okay. Well, welcome to the community meepmorps and crafts barn, where self-expression is how we prove that we are individuals rather than tools of a hierarchical society!"

"I don't know what these people went through before we got here," Yzma whispered to Wuya, "and at this point, I frankly do not WANT to know."

Peter nudged Draco with his elbow. "Hear that? This place is tailored specifically to you."

Draco simply snorted in disapproval.

"I'm Peridot," the green Gem introduced. "This is Lapis. Bismuth helps us run the place, too, but she's probably tied up working in the mini-forge."

"Oh, so there's something here where fire is involved." Garfield grinned. "Count me in."

"You could make a sword!" Peridot asserted.

Garfield bristled; "Been there, done that. Swords? Not my thing. However, I do have a particular battlesuit that I'm starting to think a certain witch isn't gonna let me have back unless I tell her something personal."

"Well, we can fix that!" Peridot said with a swing of her fist. "Just head on out back of the barn!"

"See ya on the flipside." Garfield gave the other Lapidaries a wave as he took off.

"So," Peridot asked, "what do the rest of you wanna do?"

"You made clothes," Yzma said, pointing to the Camp Pining Hearts replica shirt. "Tacky clothes, but clothes nonetheless. Where may we do that?"

"There's a whole fashion section over there," Lapis said, gesturing across the yard. "You can sew things, or you can just besparkle them."

"Did you hear that?" Peridot squealed, as though she'd received a compliment. "She thinks my shirt is tacky!"

Yzma turned to Wuya; "Well? Shall we?"

"Oh, you know me far too well," Wuya purred before the duo set off.

"Show me where I can arrange crystallinike objects into satisfiabling patterns!" Zevon demanded.

Lapis gestured again; "Beading table's over there."

As Zevon hurried off, Peter had only two words: "Crochet dolls?"

"Inside the barn," Lapis told him.

With a cartwheel, Peter was off.

"What about you?" Peridot asked Draco with sparkling eyes.

"I…er…" Draco couldn't think of anything of interest. Much like with music, his experience expressing himself artistically had been severely stunted over his lifetime. Was it that he wasn't an artist, or that he'd never been given the chance to be one? He really had just been a tool in the scheme, hadn't he? "I'm not certain."

"Are you NEW to meepmorps?" Peridot asked, her eyes sparkling double.

"Stop calling them bloody nonsense words!" Draco spat. "You sound like a prat!"

"Did you hear?" Peridot grabbed Lapis by the arm to shake her. "He said I sound like a prat!"

Draco gave a soft "Ugh."

"But seriously," Lapis asked. "Is this your first time with m…with art?"

"Yes," Draco muttered. "Probably won't even like it. Looks silly."

"You should try it, at least," Lapis suggested. "You might like it."

"And how will I know where to start?" Draco asked.

"Well…" Lapis thought it over. "Tell me about things you've enjoyed making over the course of your life."

Making? Draco hadn't really made many things. Besides scenes. Then again, there was the infamous "Potter Stinks" campaign button. That had been rather fun, if a simple enchantment.

"Or something you've fixed up," Lapis suggested.

Now that one clicked. "I've…refurbished an old wardrobe," Draco told her, conveniently leaving out that it had been the other half of a portal meant to bring an army of assassins into a school filled with innocents. "It wasn't as much drudgery as I'd thought. I also made campaign buttons, once."

"I think you might actually enjoy marquetry," Lapis suggested. "That's where you shape wood panels to make designs on surfaces like cabinets. If you like woodworking and making patterns for things like buttons."

That didn't sound bad. "I suppose I might as well try it," Draco muttered, just audible enough for her to hear. "Likely, I'll hate it, but all the same, I've got time to kill, apparently…"

"Come on," Lapis beckoned. "I'll help get you started."

Yzma and Wuya had begun to lay out fabric on an enormous table. "Are you thinking what I'm thinking?" Wuya asked teasingly.

"That cereal with milk is technically a soup?" Yzma replied.

Wuya didn't know, at first, how to respond. "No, that's…I meant…wait. How can it be a soup if the milk is cold?"

"There are cold soups! Chilled peach soup, cucumber soup – "

"How do you know all of this?"

"The need for a discreet way to practice alchemical concepts while catering to the palette of a picky emperor."

Wuya nodded. "Duly noted. But I was thinking…if we're going to be a team with a name and a purpose, we should have uniforms."

"OF COURSE!" Yzma cried. "IT'S BRILLIANT, BRILLIANT, BRILLIANT! …What sort of uniforms did you have in mind?"

"Gems have roles here, don't they?" Wuya suggested. "I say we find out what's what and assign the proper motifs based on the parallels in our own lineup."

"Well, how are we supposed to figure out what's what without a. giving away that we're not from this world, and b. being accused of cultural appropriation?" Yzma asked.

"We plant a decoy," Wuya told her. "Someone distanced enough from our operation that they don't see how it directly feeds into our creation."

"Well, I mean, Zevon's on the other side of the yard," Yzma suggested. "And once he gets the information, we can instruct him to make matching accessories for the uniforms."

"Perfect."

Zevon was in the midst of constructing a bracelet that combined the concepts of the Corona Aurora with the fabled Infinity Gauntlet using only plastic beads when he suddenly felt the presence of a headset inside of his ear. "Zevon!" Yzma's voice hissed to him. "It's Yzma! Your mother!"

"No, I believe it is a headset," Zevon stated, matter-of-fact.

A long, low growl. Then: "Zevon, I have a very important mission for you. Take a moment to look around you and find the nearest Gem."

So Zevon did. She was working on a sketch at a nearby easel. An easel that blocked her from Yzma and Wuya's view, meaning that while Zevon could see easily that she was Blue Pearl, the others couldn't tell there was any Pearl in the vicinity.

Zevon gasped; "I know what it is I must do!"

"…How?" Yzma asked. "No, wait, never mind. Go up to her and ask about Gem hierarchy and the roles of each Gem in the society. Colors included. And remember to be subtle!"

"I will!" Zevon asserted. His mother had even thought of the perfect distraction to get him close to the Pearl without her knowing! Brilliant, just like he would be!

He stormed right up to her and said, "You! I need to know everything there is to know about Gem hieraronarchy and the roles of each Gem in the societality!"

Yzma pounded her forehead with her fists repeatedly as Wuya asked, "Well? What did you think was going to happen?"

"Oh," Blue Pearl said softly. "Well, um…it all goes back to the Diamonds. They're the leaders. White, Yellow, and Blue."

"I see! Continuate!"

As Zevon gained a lot of exposition and clarification, the others found themselves quite enjoying their tasks around the barnyard. Garfield hadn't been able to locate the materials that would allow him to hook a gas line to any new armor, but he had been able to forge a couple of new plates that would look nice as attachments for his current suit: bright yellow, embossed with flame designs. Peter, inside the barn, had just finished a chibi-esque replica of Garfield in yarn and was now beginning a matching Harley. Jack and Irmaplotz had already built three owls with varying aesthetics and were now going about making them several owlets for a family unit. Draco found out he actually did enjoy marquetry as he discreetly used his wand to carve the pattern of a twisting, swerving snake on a small wooden chest.

And all the while, as they heard the descriptions from the Blue Pearl they didn't know was a Blue Pearl, Yzma and Wuya scrambled to assemble fabrics, beads, paint, and other necessary components to add the right amount of glitz and glamour to their creations.

"We're done!" Yzma finally hissed over to Zevon as she affixed a faux pearl to a pair of jeans. "Now wrap up the conversation and deliver the coup de grace!"

"Don't you mean pièce de résistance?" Wuya corrected.

"…Do I?" Yzma wondered out loud.

Zevon smirked. "I must offer you my uttermost gratitudinals for the explanatoriation," Zevon told Blue Pearl. His mind raced: how could he get her alone? "However…I suddenly have urgental business in the forge! Accompanify me!"

"Um…okay." Blue Pearl was used to being told what to do, so she didn't much question it.

"I certainmostly hope no DIVERSTRACTIONS happen while we're there!" Zevon said loudly, which really wasn't necessary, as the microphone Wuya had conjured transmitted his voice at a perfect volume.

"Where is he going?" Yzma muttered. "What is he doing?"

"I'm not sure," Wuya admitted. "Do we trust him?"
Yzma shrugged; "Eh, he probably decided the jewelry needed actual metalwork to complete the aesthetic."

Zevon strode into the mini-forge, Blue Pearl in tow. "I need you to help me look for something very importantical!" he insisted to her. He took a quick stock of the room: only himself, Blue Pearl, Bismuth, and Garfield. So only one to distract. "I require a smithing hammer in order to make more intricatical jewelry!"

"See?" Yzma told Wuya.

"I shouldn't have doubted you," Wuya told her. "Now. About that distraction…"

A crackling sphere of ball lightning collided, at Wuya's behest, with a box of acrylic paints, creating a rainbow geyser.

"IT'S JUST LIKE WHAT HAPPENED TO THE CORN!" someone screamed.

Peridot was soon at the forge door; "Bismuth! We've got another runaway paint incident!"

"I'm comin'!" Bismuth replied, hurrying out the door.

Zevon took that as his opportunity to beckon Garfield to him, hissing, "Pick up your itinventory and follow me!"

"Okay," Garfield replied, picking up the recently-cooled plates. "Aaaaand why am I doing this?"

"You shall see!"

Zevon led Garfield a good distance away from the barn. Then, drawing his gem-staff, he sent a critical beam of energy toward the wall that held the largest oven; "BA-BOOOOOM!"

Which was a replica in miniature of the sound the forge made when it exploded.

At first, Zevon knew no senses but the world being blocked out in the dust and debris as he laughed: music to his own ears. He put up a hand, ready to gracefully catch Blue Pearl.

But a pair of strong, tense hands seized his upper arms; "WHAT THE HECK WAS THAT FOR?"

As Garfield shook Zevon, the gem that was Blue Pearl's core bonked him on the head ungracefully. "Look what you made me do!" Zevon grunted.

"LOOK WHAT I – " Garfield's face was visible in the clearing smoke now, and it was utterly livid: eyes wide, a vein or two clearly visible. "WHY WOULD YOU DO THAT? DID YOU STOP TO MAKE SURE ANYONE ON OUR TEAM WAS CLEAR? ANYONE?"

"Relax!" Zevon bade him. "Observate! The barn is not even scratched!"

It wasn't. The forge (and Blue Pearl's light form) was the only casualty. All the same, Garfield abandoned his utter rage at Zevon and ran in a panic to the barn's back door.

"Ah, Garfield!" Peter turned to him, holding up the two dolls that looked like Harley and Garfield himself, one in each hand. "I had hoped to be able to show you – "

Garfield locked his arms fiercely, tightly around Peter. "You're here," he panted. "You're safe. You're okay. It's okay. I didn't hurt you. I didn't – "

"Garfield, what are you talking about? And does it have anything to do with that rather sonorous explosion just now?"

"WHAT WAS THAT?" Yzma shrieked as she and Wuya came racing across the yard toward Zevon, who had finally picked up the pearl.

"The coup de grace!" Zevon declared as he held up Blue Pearl, then produced the compass to begin circling her around.

"I TOLD you it was pièce de résistance," Wuya growled. "If you'd told him the pièce de résistance, this wouldn't have happened!"

"WHAT DID YOU DO?" Yzma yelled.

"She wasn't the right Pearl," Zevon gasped, having made a revolution of the compass. "SHE WASN'T THE RIGHT PEARL! AFTER ALL I WENT THROUGH!"

"YOU WERE SUPPOSED TO MAKE BRACELETS!" Yzma yelled. "BRACELETS BASED ON THE INFORMATION YOU GOT FROM HER!"

"THIS IS USELESS TO ME NOW!" Zevon turned and pitched Blue Pearl as far away from him as possible.

"Is he even listening to what I'm saying?" Yzma cried in disbelief.

But before either woman knew what was happening, a new presence entered the field. Zevon still glared out at where he'd chucked Blue Pearl (who would reform very disoriented later but want to make a stunning sketch out of the ordeal) when he suddenly felt a pair of long-fingered hands slide gently around his neck, beginning to subtly squeeze.

Peter's voice in his ear hid an undercurrent of malice beneath its joking tone; "Pull a stunt like that again and I'll remind you why it isn't wise to play with fire. Or dolls."

Zevon gasped and choked. "WHY? WAS I NOT SUPPOSED TO TAKE OUT THE PEARL IN SOME FASHION?"

"NO!" Yzma and Wuya cried. "BRACELETS!"

"You ignited some quite horrid memories in our dear Garfield," Peter hissed into Zevon's ear. "You wouldn't want to have a collection of horrid memories of your very own, now, would you?"

"STOP!" Garfield rushed to the group. "Peter, it's FINE! SERIOUSLY! I don't wanna make a DEAL out of this anymore!" His hands still trembled.

After some silent deliberation, Peter let Zevon go. "You get off with a warning just this once."

"AHEM," Yzma ahemed. "I believe it is YOU who has to get off with a warning. You lay a FINGER on my son where it doesn't belong, triple-jointed or otherwise…"

"And you're a broken toy," Wuya seethed.

"Very well," Peter said rather agreeably, the malice dissipating. "I suppose I can't argue with that. But as you defend your own, I must defend mine."

"Just…please, stop…" Garfield begged. "Let's pretend this never happened. You're fine, THEY'RE fine…" His lip quivered. "I'm sure the others are…fine…"

Zevon didn't know the full story, but was beginning to get the sense that he had, in fact, thoroughly messed up. "They are most certainously!" he proclaimed. "We are going to find them THIS INSTANTMENT!"

With that, he took off running.

"I didn't do this," Garfield repeated. "I didn't DO THIS. It was HIM. Wasn't it? For once I was standing in front of the flames and thinking I finally had this…I HAD this back in Gotham…"

"It was most definitely my idiot son," Yzma sighed.

"I'm sensing some untapped issues here," Wuya realized.

Garfield felt Peter's hand intertwining with his. "Let's go find the others," Peter said softly.

Garfield nodded.

The others weren't hard to locate, as Draco, Irmaplotz, and Jack, along with a miniature treasure chest and an extended family tree of macramé owls, had gathered in the front yard as soon as they'd heard the explosion. "I DIDN'T DO IT!" Jack screeched as the other five came into view.

"For once in your life, that statement's accurate," Wuya told him. "All right, everyone. Our cover probably blew with the forge; I don't think they can blame ball lightning a third time."

"Gather up your meepmorps and let's MOVE!" Yzma cried.

Zevon led the way as usual, at a rather brisk pace, compass pointing toward the next Pearl. He wouldn't have said the guilt was eating at him, but he was left with a sense of unease. He'd tried so hard to help his team relax.

And he'd literally blown it.

...

It was a larger load than Appa was used to carrying, but sky bison were strong, and he was no exception. He gently coursed through the night air, the branch of Cinnamons nestled in on his back.

"We should probably stop and make camp somewhere for the night," Aqua suggested.

"But I'm not even tired!" Aang and Sora said as one.

"I know," Aqua said softly. "But they are."

She nodded back behind her, to where Papyrus and Ven had fallen asleep nestled in Appa's thick fur.

"I thought that kid had slept enough for a lifetime or two," XR pointed out.

"We're over Taku," Sokka pointed out. "That'd be a nice place to rest."

Appa descended into an abandoned stone ruin perched on a mountain ledge. The group filed into the large roofed courtyard of the most sizeable building, Aqua hoisting Ven along and Rosalina levitating Papyrus gently beside her.

"Remember all the good times we had here?" Sokka urged. "I'm pretty sure this is the exact room where Katara and I got sick and started hallucinating horribly until you made us suck on frogs, Aang. …Actually, no. Never mind. They were not good times. They were actually really bad times."

Still, Aang smiled. "It was still part of our adventure together."

"Yeah," Katara agreed. "It was."

They exchanged a look that held for only a moment.

"We can set up our camp here," Rosalina suggested. "It is sheltered enough. That said, anyone who is not sleepy has every right to go explore the mountains…perhaps engage in private conversations with another."

"Subtle," Toph grunted. "Real subtle."

"Katara?" Aang asked. "Would you wanna…go for a walk and talk about things?"

"Yeah," Katara replied. "I would."

"Well, I'm going exploring," Sora declared. "Anyone who wants to come with can."

"I might sit outside for a bit," Aqua decided, "but I'm not gonna wander far."

"I'm gonna crash," Toph declared.

"This has definitely been a crashworthy day," Sokka agreed.

"So what supplies are we setting up?" Suki asked.

Aqua lay Ven aside to rummage through her pockets for several small portable tents that were apparently a standard Keybearer inventory must-have. Once she placed them on the ground, they grew in size, revealing soft sleeping bags and pillows within.

Sora headed out almost immediately to begin his journey while most of the others worked on arranging the tents to their heart's desire (XR insisted on lining them up according to feng shui, only for Sokka to take one look at the setup and declare that was not how feng shui worked at all, starting a minor debacle). This left Aang and Katara to face their apprehensions.

"You…wanna go now?" Aang asked.

"I think we should," Katara agreed.

The nearest trail led them down into the forest; they supposed Sora had passed through not too long ago. "Isn't this where you had to go in order to find the frozen frogs?" Katara recalled.

"Yeah," Aang affirmed. "That time Zuko saved my life."

"Was that the first time he actually helped us out?"

"I think so, yeah."

They walked on in the dark, making note of the brilliant array of stars overhead. "Those are all other worlds, aren't they?" Aang asked, looking up.

"Yeah," Katara told him.

"How many have you been to?"

"A few. I can think of some places I know you'd like."

"Sooooo…" Aang brought up. "Should we…talk?"

"Yeah. Aang, I – "

"I'm sorry I pushed you too far and made you date me when you didn't want to!" Aang cried all at once. "I don't know what I was thinking! I could've ruined our friendship, and I'm afraid I still did! I don't even think I have those feelings anymore, but I'm scared, Katara! Scared of more things changing! And I know air is supposed to be the element of change, but I've already had so many things change already since I ran away from the Temple and that doesn't even matter anymore because it's not about me; it should be about you! And if I really loved you, I would've thought about that! I don't want us to be anything you don't want us to be, but I DO love you: as a really, really good friend who's always been there for me and showed me what it was like to find a place to belong after my whole world disappeared!"

With that out, he finally slowed down, anxiously awaiting Katara's response.

"First of all, thank you," Katara said softly. "And second…I'm sorry, too. I thought…I thought being with you was a safe bet. That it meant I wouldn't make the Jet mistake again."

"All this time, and you were still thinking about Jet?"

"I didn't wanna admit it, myself. It's just…" She let out a heavy sigh. "I should've let him go a long time ago. But he was the first person I ever felt that way about, and even when I forget about him, I don't forget what he meant. That I should be more careful. But that just made me lead you on. I know I felt…something for you. But I'm not sure it's what I should've felt for us to have that kind of relationship. If we're just talking about friendship…then I do love you, too. I know it. I was so scared to come back to you and confront my own feelings, but then we went racing in Omashu, and it's weird, but even that room back up the mountain reminds me of all the great adventures we had. How you always made me smile. Things seemed less nerve-wracking with you there to laugh with me."

"So…can we maybe start over?" Aang asked. "This time, we know we don't belong together that way, and I'll be more self-aware of what I actually want."

"I will, too." Katara's smile widened. "But I don't think we have to start all the way over. Just from after Sozin's Comet."

"Deal. …Soooooo, you went to some interesting worlds?"

"Yeah!" Katara nodded. "There was the world with the four Light spirits, and the world where we met the princess of the Sundrop, and the world where we met the goddess Amaterasu – "

"I wanna hear about all of this! Tell me!"

"Okay. Now, where do I start…?"

Further up the mountain, just outside the courtyard, Aqua had, as promised, decided to take in the night air, a soft, sweet smile upon her face. The others were still fighting over the tents inside; she let them without trying to take charge. It was almost comforting to hear the bustle of activity on the other side of the semi-open wall.

"Do you mind if I sit?"

Aqua flinched, startled to hear Rosalina's voice. She turned to address the cosmic princess, giving a soft smile. "Of course. …Not. I mean of course I don't mind! You can sit here if you want to."

Rosalina gave a light laugh, like bells. "It is a wonderful night."

"Yes. It is."

Rosalina gently settled beside Aqua, her skirt fanning out around her. She smiled up to the sky. "Even though we are far away from many of our friends," she observed, "we are still connected by the stars."

"I like that," Aqua told her. "Maybe that's why a Wayfinder charm is shaped like a star."

"I think you may very well be onto something."

After a silence, Aqua cleared her throat; "I think Aang was right about neutral jing. You waited for the right time."

"Thank you," Rosalina told her. "I have come around to believing that, myself…but it is good to know others agree."

"I had to wait for the right time, too," Aqua sighed. "It's so strange. Growing up, I never got to really get out and see so many worlds. Not until the journey that changed everything forever. I was taught how to wield the Keyblade in order to protect millions of places I never saw."

"It strikes me as odd that your Master did not give you practical applications."

"We didn't need them," Aqua related. "The Master was thorough. He taught me everything there was to possibly know…up to a point. I'm sure a lot of the skills we're learning from Yen Sid now would've come after Mastery."

"Well," Rosalina asked, "now that you are out here, what do you want to do that you never got a chance to?"

"Hmm." Aqua thought it over. "I guess that would depend on what's in the worlds I found. Mostly I want to know what it's like outside the walls of Departure. I guess outside Radiant Garden, now. I got that far at least. Otherwise…well, it's kind of silly." She gave a nervous laugh. "There were things I loved doing when I was younger that I had to give up when I began training for the Keyblade. I guess I'd want to find worlds where I could do them again. It's silly."

"No," Rosalina told her. "It isn't silly. What would you want to do?"

"I used to ice skate," Aqua related. "I turned a lot of what I learned there into my battle moves. The Master thought I was crazy at first until he saw my Spellweaver. But I never really got a chance to venture to the lakes in winter once I moved to Eraqus' training grounds with Terra. I always thought there must've been a lot of ice in the mountain range the training grounds were set in, but there was just…no time to explore it. I've also always had a connection to water. That might sound cliché because of my name, but I feel at peace whenever I'm swimming. The same lakes I used to skate on in the winter, I would swim in during summer. Until there wasn't time for that anymore, either."

"How odd," Rosalina remarked. "Yen Sid seems to be training the others at a remarkable rate, and yet they have time to pursue their passions."

"I don't know how he does it," Aqua related. "I guess when you're a sorcerer, you make magic happen. So what do you want to do out there in the worlds? I mean…you've probably done it all. Silly things like swimming and skating must seem boring to you now."

"No," Rosalina told her. "It's the opposite. When you have lived for thousands of years, you can sometimes become jaded with how everything is similar at its core. But in my case, I was able to see the changing worlds as something a little different every era. All sorts of wonderful new experiences. Sadly, I never attempted many of them, mostly because of my own reticence to leave. Or perhaps simply neutral jing. I have skated before, though, and swam in many oceans. Those are the small things that bring me joy." A pause, then: "I know a place that is wonderful to do both of those things. If you want, I would like to bring you there once this adventure is over, so we can have time to ourselves, to spend together having fun."

"All right," Aqua told her. "That sounds like a great idea."

"Then it's a date."

Aqua suddenly flushed. "Oh – I – um – " She bit her lip. "Yeah."

Rosalina looked to her; "If you do not want to – "

"I want to," Aqua told her. "It sounds fun. I just…does it worry you that Sora hasn't come back? If he's gotten himself into trouble – "

"We could go look for him together," Rosalina suggested.

"Um…" Aqua was now feeling rather light-headed. "I'm not sure we – I actually might need to go lie down now. Long day."

"…I understand," Rosalina said softly, showing the slightest of frowns. A hint of dismay. "You should do what brings you comfort. I want you to remember that always."

"I will!" Aqua said hastily.

"Do not worry about Sora." Rosalina rose gracefully; Aqua's eyes were fixed on her fluid motion. "I will bring him home safe and sound. You rest."

Aqua stood up – not half as fluidly as Rosalina, she thought to herself – and nearly wobbled back into the interior courtyard as quickly as she could. Meanwhile, Rosalina departed to find Sora.

Ven and Papyrus had been laid in their tents and zipped up for privacy as they slumbered. Meanwhile, Sokka, Suki, Toph, and XR had arranged their tents in a circle so they could sit at the mouths of their respective chambers and talk to each other.

"Well, obviously, I'd marry Suki," Sokka said thoughtfully. "And also…in bed."

"Can't pick the same name twice," XR told him. "That's the rules of the game."

"But I LOVE SUKI," Sokka insisted. "I can't cheat on her in an imaginary scenario!"

"Just say someone else," Suki laughed. "I don't mind."

"Fiiiiiine," Sokka groaned. "Um…Zuko, I guess."

Suki burst out giggling. "Why did you say ZUKO?"

"I DON'T KNOW!" Sokka cried. "IT'S BETWEEN HIM AND TY LEE, OKAY?"

"I would think an acrobat-contortionist would be more desirable in bed," Suki joked.

"Ty Lee just gets to die in an imaginary accident for all the times she made me look like an idiot," Sokka grumbled, "right down to the pentapus fiasco in Omashu before we left. Can we move to someone else already?"

"Ooh! Me! Mememe!" Toph waved a hand in the air.

"Okaaaaay…" Sokka thought it over. "Except. Um. Can we change 'bed' to something more innocent?"

"You're no fun," Toph pouted.

"And you're even more of a kid than the rest of us," Sokka shot back. "If Katara's not here to be the team mom, then I have to be the team mom. I'm her next of kin! So your 'bed' is just cuddling with a lot of plush animals. That said, wed, bed, behead: Haru, Teo, The Duke."

"Tough call," Toph remarked. "See, everyone tells me Teo is adorable, but I just don't see it." She then let out a raucous laugh at her own pun.

"Okay, someone's gotta address the elephant in the room," XR brought up. He then waved to Aqua; "Miss Elephant, you have been standing there staring at us for far longer than is comfortable at this point. Don't tell me: you want in on this wed-bed-behead action."

"Um…no," Aqua muttered. "I was kind of…it's nothing."

"That doesn't sound like nothing," Suki observed.

"I…kind of want some advice," Aqua admitted. "But it's okay if you don't – "

"Aqua!" XR gasped in mock offense. "You really think any of us would prioritize our own selfish needs over your emotional wellbeing?"

"Yes," Aqua said flatly. "Mostly you."

"I'm offended I wasn't the first answer," Toph huffed.

"She just doesn't know you well enough yet," Sokka pointed out.

Suki patted the space next to her, and Aqua took a seat on the cold stone.

"Now," XR bade her, "tell XR all about your troubles and heart's desires."

"Um." Aqua couldn't meet anyone's gaze. "Rosalina and I were talking outside, and we agreed to go on a…trip together after this mission."

"Sounds like fun," Sokka told her.

"Except that she said 'It's a date' at the end," Aqua muttered, "and I'm not sure…if she meant it's just a date between friends…or a DATE."

"I get it!" Sokka realized. "You're afraid of letting her down like this whole Aang and Katara mess."

"You just need to talk to her," Suki told Aqua. "Tell her you don't feel that way about her."

"But…" Aqua's voice became ever quieter. "What if I do?"

After a silence, XR proclaimed, "Ohhhh, so THAT'S why I never got anywhere with either of you two!"

"No," Aqua said at full volume, finally able to meet his gaze and stare down his smirk. "Even if I did want to date a man, there would be MANY reasons why it wouldn't be you."

"Yeah, well, I got you to stop mumbling," XR pointed out, "so I'm gonna call this a victory."

"Have you ever dated anyone before?" Suki asked.

"No," Aqua admitted. "I…I don't think I had some things figured out about myself. I knew I was less distracted by boys than other girls my age, and I thought that was…just me being more focused on my training, like I needed to be. And I met some people on my travels, before I fell to Darkness, and I felt certain feelings for them, but…I thought it was just really strong friendship. I didn't think you could feel like that about a woman, if you were one. Looking back and knowing what I know now…" She sighed. "I was kind of a mess. I met more than one really amazing, kindhearted, and beautiful woman out there. And now I feel the same way about Rosalina, and I only just NOW know what it means, and I'm afraid because if I didn't know this was something that could happen for so long, and if it's not normal, then what are the odds she would like me back?"

"Oh, please," Sokka scoffed. "Not normal? Are you serious? You sound like a Phoenix King extremist."

"Sometimes I actually feel bad for Azula," Suki stated. "From what Ty Lee tells me, she definitely connected better to girls than boys. And her own father would've hated that if he knew. We know he didn't because…well…her face looked better than Zuko's, in the end. Then I remember all the horrible things Azula did to us and I stop feeling so bad."

"Didn't Ty Lee also say whatshisface was in on it?" Sokka recalled. "You know, that one guy who stalked us in the beginning. The one with all the boats. Boat Guy. I mean, apparently he didn't really care one way or the other, but I guess having Boat Guy stare at you with complete apathy while you talk about your love life and tell you 'Boy or girl, neither should distract you from learning the art of firebending' is better than having Ozai burn your face off over it. So it wasn't like she was COMPLETELY out of support in that area. No, wait. Is it too late to switch his name to 'Moon Guy'? 'Moon Guy' sums him up better."

"Given what happened between you and the moon," Toph pointed out, "I would think his would be the last name you forget."

"Maybe…I…want to forget him," Sokka growled.

"You were the one who brought him up," Toph pointed out.

"BECAUSE I WAS POINTING OUT AZULA HAD A SUPPORT NETWORK!" Sokka yelled, flailing his arms. "SHE HAD ONE MOON GUY IN THE WHOLE PALACE WHO SHE COULD TALK TO ABOUT LIKING GIRLS! IT WAS TOPICALLY RELEVANT!"

"We're getting off topic," Suki observed. "The point is, Aqua, I don't know what it was like where you grew up, but liking girls is very normal."

"And if we knew that from day one," Toph added, "then I bet your honeybunch DEFINITELY knew, given all the different worlds she's seen over the years."

Aqua blushed furiously; "Don't call her that, please."

"Listen," XR told her. "I stand by what I said back in the Chamber of Parties. Dating is a simple affair. You find a person you like, you ask them out, and everyone has a good time. You don't even have to do the asking-out part! She did that for you! What is there to worry about here?"

"I don't know if she asked me out!" Aqua clarified. "She might have meant we would just hang out! And…" Her face reddened further. "I know I'm not good at expressing my feelings, especially when they make me feel vulnerable. Even if she does like me in that way, I'm not sure I could ever tell her the truth about how I feel."

"I could do it for you," XR told her.

"Please don't," Aqua sighed.

"Hmmm…" XR smiled slyly. "Actually, if you don't tell her by the time you come back from that date, then I will. And that is a THREAT."

Aqua's teeth gritted. "You WOULDN'T."

"I think you know very well I would."

Aqua sighed. "Well, there's an incentive I didn't need."

"It'll be fine," Suki assured her. "Rosalina's nice. Even if things don't work out for dating, you two can still be friends."

"I have no guarantee I won't accidentally say something that causes her to run away from me and end up comatose or possessed for ten years," Aqua grunted.

"And I have no guarantee Suki won't also turn into a celestial entity," Sokka told her. "You gotta take some risks for love."

Aqua regarded him with curiosity; "I think I need to know what happened between you and the moon."

"Oh, boy…now THAT'S a story."

As Sokka related the sad tale of Yue, trying to pepper it with as much levity as he could, the others gradually returned – first Katara and Aang, then Rosalina and Sora. The party died off once all were assembled, and the tired travelers retired to their tents and cuddly sleeping bags.

...

When Mozenrath arrived at Quentin Beck's door, it was at the same time as another. He rounded on the other man, ready to have to duel Electro or Flint if necessary.

However, what he lay eyes upon was Montana, who glared back; "I don't like that look yer givin' me."

"Why are you here?" Mozenrath groaned.

"Same as you, I reckon," Montana stated. "Don't take a genius to see somethin's off about Beck. Figure he could use some sweet-talkin' right about now if we wanna keep his talents in our arsenal."

"Then our goals actually do align," Mozenrath said with a nod. "After all, you do know him better than I. Maybe you know what his weak spots are and where we can dig to get our way."

"First things first," Montana corrected, "don't talk about it like that. He thinks yer manipulatin' him, he walks. You've seen. He's gotta have the spotlight all night, every night. Means he's gotta think he's in charge of this outfit."

"Then what do you propose?"

"Play therapist," Montana suggested. "Hear 'im out. Let 'im rant. I know he wants to. Off hearsay, mind ya. Case ya forgot, this is the first time we teamed up."

"And then…?"

"We find his problem. We fix his problem. We move on."

"And if his problem isn't fixable?"

"Then I think you know what we do," Montana said, and Mozenrath wasn't sure if he was imagining the undertone of sorrow in his voice as he delivered it.

Mozenrath raised a hand to knock on the door. At first, nothing happened. He could almost swear he could hear a throbbing beat – a bass line – from inside.

"Oh, fer cryin' out loud – " Montana slid in beside Mozenrath, pounding the door. "BECK, OPEN THIS DOOR UP 'FORE I BLAST IT OFF ITS HINGES!"

The door opened, and Mozenrath and Montana were assaulted by the overpowering sound of a very aggressive show tune sung in the midst of a moment of angst in its original context. Quentin glared at them from the opening he'd created; "This had better be IMPORTANT."

"Were you singin' angry show tunes?" Montana asked.

"That is NONE of your concern," Quentin said haughtily.

"You know what is our concern?" Mozenrath brought up.

Montana gave him a pointed look.

"…You," Mozenrath grunted. "We're concerned about you."

"Well, don't be," Quentin told him. "There's nothing to be concerned about. I'm perfectly all right."

"That anthem says otherwise," Montana pointed out. "You wanna talk about it."

"No thank you – "

"Wasn't a question, Beck."

Quentin rolled his eyes before swinging the door open and backing off; "If you MUST. But the music stays on!"

"Greeeaaat," Mozenrath sighed as he and Montana entered, the latter shutting the door behind them to protect the rest of the floor from Quentin's angst mix.

"So." Montana folded his arms, leaning against a nearby wall. "Ya shot a gal today."

"And what about it?" Quentin asked.

"You ain't said a word since," Montana told him. "First kill?"

"Of COURSE not!" Quentin yelled. "I've committed COUNTLESS murders with these very hands!"

"Really," Montana sighed. "And ya froze up back there 'cause…?"

"I was…cold. It was literally freezing. I had that ice lion next to me, after all. And thank you VERY much for tinting my entire aesthetic BLUE."

"I try," Mozenrath said slyly.

"That's a nice story," Montana told him. "Now. Why don't I buy it? Maybe you ain't as good an actor as ya think."

"LIES!" Quentin spat. "I am a MASTER at the performance arts! If you don't believe my carefully-woven story, then that's on – "

"So you admit it's a lie," Montana said flatly.

Quentin appeared he'd just been slapped across the face. Then, turning away, he grunted, "So what? She was my first kill. Everyone needs one in the business."

"And yer fine with this," Montana pressed. "I'd suggest no more lies."

"So WHAT?" Quentin cried, throwing out his arms dramatically. "Maybe she threw me off. Is that a crime? If it is, I'm a criminal anyway!"

"Can we PLEASE LISTEN TO SOMETHING, ANYTHING ELSE?" Mozenrath howled as the music changed to a drum-heavy number about a woman lamenting how she was used and abused in the English court.

"MUSIC. STAYS," Quentin reiterated. "And are you insinuating I don't have the STOMACH to be a murderer? That I don't have an iron will? That I don't have cold blood?"

"Never said that," Montana stated.

"But it does seem to be true," Mozenrath pointed out.

"NOT HELPIN'," Montana snapped at the sorcerer.

Mozenrath folded his arms; "Fine. YOU handle this if you want to so badly."

"Obviously, ya got a hard head," Montana told Quentin. "Otherwise we wouldn't be listenin' ta this…this the one about the guy with all the wives?"

"It's about the wives who all married the same man," Quentin corrected. "But go on."

"Fact is," Montana told him, "ya wanna keep your spot in the Six, ya gotta have a hard heart to go with that hard head. Ya gotta be straight with me: if ya had to kill another person, could ya do it?"

Quentin forced a smile. "I'm afraid it's rather hard for me to be 'straight' with you, Montana."

"Real funny. Also real desperation to avoid the question, Beck."

Quentin's lip twitched. "I could do it again. I just…never had the practice."

"You swear you ain't lyin'?" Montana pressed. "'Cause if ya gotta have it out…well, y'ain't gonna have many more chances if ya don't now. Speak now or forever hold yer piece, Beck."

Quentin wasn't sure what got to him more: Montana keeping on egging him on or the singer screaming how it was "Never, ever different…"

He cracked.

"How am I supposed to carry ON?" he wailed. "A true performer keeps up the façade through anything! The show must go on! And I killed her and I just…couldn't stop thinking about how she isn't alive anymore. This isn't a game, it isn't a stage production…it's all real. It's too real! Her…blood…"

He collapsed into a sitting position on the bed, skin breaking into a cold sweat.

"Now, that's more like it," Montana remarked.

"Thanks!" Mozenrath told him. "I hate it. Now fix him."

Montana held up a hand, palm out to Mozenrath to indicate he should be silent. Then he slowly, deliberately walked toward Quentin. Quentin half hoped Montana would sit caringly beside him and soothe all his worries with a gentle tone, but instead, the redhead stopped before him, looking down on him from above, face firmly set.

"The Six could be like family, if we all play nice," Montana stated. "You want a spot in this family? Ya gotta get over it. Now, I may not know ya well, but I know enough. Ya got the guts in there." He leaned over Quentin, jabbing an index finger into his chest. "Ya got a lot of potential."

"And I'm just supposed to forget what she looked like with her head blown open?" Quentin said hoarsely.

"No," Montana told him. "Ya fight through it. We all got demons. We all got weapons. I ain't got a clean past, either. Took a while to get where I am, and that's on the mental front, too. I don't gotta name all the therapy techniques out there, but more importantly, you know the show must go on. Said it yerself. What's more important to you: the show or yer pity party?"

Quentin was silent.

Montana removed his hand. "Y'always go on about how yer the best an' the brightest. I know y'ain't gonna do anythin' to tarnish that – "

"It's too late," Quentin said hoarsely. "It's just like Dmitri said."

"Really?" Mozenrath groaned. "Is this going to turn into a sob story tangent?"

Montana held up another hand to Mozenrath. "Guessin' Beck thinks of it more as a 'plot twist.' Well, let's have it out. Who's Dmitri?"

"Dmitri Smerdyakov," Quentin hissed. "My FORMER partner in crime. Hmph. Some partner he turned out to be. He acted like a director drunk on power and continually cast me in the minor roles. When I parted ways with him and left him with several well-placed insults toward his artistic talent, he remarked that I couldn't possibly make it in this business on my own. That I didn't have the guts. …I guess he was right."

"How come I never heard of this fella?" Montana asked.

"Oh, you have," Quentin corrected. "Chameleon."

"That fella," Montana realized. "Not surprisin' you two used to go. Theater kids, both of ya."

"If he could see me now," Quentin sighed, "he'd never let me live it down. Does this mean everything else he said was right, too? I'm not strong, I'm not smart, I'm not vicious…"

"This sounds downright supernatural comin' from ya," Montana informed him.

"Well," Quentin said morosely, "maybe it's time I hang up the cape."

"This was a lost cause, wasn't it?" Mozenrath grunted.

"Listen," Montana told Quentin. "Ya wanna cash it in an' quit? Fine. But give us 'till after the university tomorrow. At least put in an appearance. Be the figurehead. Do nothin' if ya gotta."

"And why should I bother?" Quentin asked.

"'Cause I got this feelin' you'll change yer tune after a good night's sleep," Montana stated. With that, he turned to exit. "C'mon, Moze. Let's mosey."

"That's it?" Mozenrath looked frantically back and forth between Montana and Quentin. "THAT'S IT? YOU'RE GIVING UP?"

"I SAID LET'S GO."

Mozenrath reluctantly trudged after Montana. As the two left, Montana fired a look over his shoulder; "Give it 'till the university. Got that?"

"I suppose," Quentin sighed.

The door shut, and he curled up on his bed, unable to be consoled even by his angst mix.

"Congratulations," Mozenrath told Montana. "That was the worst manipulation I've ever seen. You really think a good night's sleep is going to turn him into a cold-blooded killer?"

"No," Montana informed him. "But we learned a couple things, didn't we? First, he's got a lotta stock put in what his pal Chameleon thinks, whether he wants to or not. Maybe if we got the two of 'em to make up, get Smerdyakov to take back everythin' he said, Beck just might turn around."

"And if he doesn't?"

"Our failsafe," Montana told him. "Beck don't feel strong, smart, or vicious. Just so happens we got a guy on board with a rep for takin' weaklings and makin' 'em somebodies."

"Octopus," Mozenrath realized. "So you're willing to turn Mysterio into a human experiment."

"If need be. But only 'cause he'll be better off for it. 'Course, that makes us better off with him in turn."

"You're cold," Mozenrath stated. "I like you. A lot."

"Don't right care," Montana admitted. "This gig ain't about bein' liked. It's about getting' the job done. I might've said we were family, but family don't always get along and ya know it. We could outright hate each other and still function as a unit."

"I like the way you think…whether or not you care."

Meanwhile, alone in his suite, Quentin shut off his angst mix, crawling into bed without even changing his clothes. He slid beneath the blanket, making himself as small as possible, and closed his eyes.

Everything he'd thought he'd known about himself was a lie. A sham. A performance so good he'd even fooled himself.

Before sleep could claim him, he heard the whisper: "Beck. Hey, Beck!"

Quentin pried his eyes open to see a large, solid silhouette standing over him. "Flint? You're supposed to be nowhere near here."

"Yeah, well, don't snitch on me," Flint told him. "Listen. I already jumped ship. I got one other guy on board to do the same. I saw how you clammed up after ya shot that lady by accident. I know it ain't sittin' right."

"That's an understatement," Quentin said meekly.

"You don't gotta keep doin' this," Flint insisted. "You can come with us. We'll be, like, the Terrible Three or somethin'. Keep it to petty crime. The stuff you're used to. No more blood, 'less it's real necessary."

"You're suggesting I turn my back on the Sinister Six?"

"I'm tryin' to get you someplace you actually don't feel like one of Alex's mud stains. Look at you! C'mon, Beck, you can do better than this! Just come with me and I'll help ya – "

"I want to be better," Quentin said softly. "Montana wants me to carry out the university heist. I don't see what that will change. But if it does…then I want to be the villain they expect me to be. The one I told them I was."

"I don't think you are."

Quentin flinched. "I want to have what it takes."

"I'm sayin' ya don't NEED to, Beck! Listen to me! This ain't about your pride! This is about you bein'…not a ball of depressed like you are now!"

"It's always been about my pride," Quentin reminded him. "Or do you still not know me?"

Flint sighed. "Look. I'll give ya some time to think about it. The heist's tomorrow? You go through with it. See what happens. Then, at sundown that night, me an'…my friend are gonna wait for ya at the tire yard. You remember the place, right?"

"Your friend is Electro, isn't he?"

"Wha – " Flint sputtered. "That's need-to-know! And you don't need to know right now!" Not when he was still considering staying on board with the Six.

"Don't worry," Quentin sighed. "I won't tattle. I'll give you that much respect at least. But I remember the tire yard being where Spider-Man served Electro a heaping plate of humiliation. If anyone has reason to pick that location for poetic irony, it's him."

"Well, whether or not it's Electro, and I ain't sayin' it is," Flint reiterated, "we'll be there when the sun goes down, and we're stayin' until midnight. Ya got that long to come join us or skip out. Your choice."

After a long silence, Quentin replied, "Duly noted." Already, he had no idea what to even make of this. Which was more horrible: giving in and admitting he was so weak that he needed to join the traitors, or having his stomach turned by the increasingly dark deeds he would be dispatched to do?

"See ya there," Flint whispered with conviction. "Oh, and Beck? If you could…try and put in a word with O'Hirn…maybe…"

"I'll see what I can do." He actually had no intention of bothering with Alex. That was Flint's problem.

"'Kay," Flint told him softly. "Uh…g'night, I guess."

Then he collapsed, and as a fluid wave of earth, he had flowed out of the suite.

Quentin was half convinced it had only been a dream. He gave himself the traditional pinch: it hurt, so he was presumably quite awake, though he supposed a non-lucid dream would have made him feel the same way.

He succumbed once more to sleep, wondering: if Flint's appearance were to be a dream, would it be a pleasant one or a nightmare?

...

This is the tale of Roman Torchwick.

Of course, because Discord likes to insert himself into tales where he doesn't belong, he is the one it starts with.

He'd spent a lot of time exploring the city from above, teleporting here and there, from rooftop to rooftop to scope it all out. He'd found a lovely spa earlier in the day, and it seemed Scarlet had taken advantage of it as well – he'd seen her enter its doors. Most likely, she had the pampering of her life there and came out feeling prettier than ever.

Around the time that the sun had begun to set, he'd witnessed a couple of hapless womanizers anger the Boulder, and had a good laugh watching his teammates zigzag through the city. Of course, he wasn't going to lend them a hand at all. They'd likely end up amusingly battered by the time they came back, and he couldn't pass that up.

Then he found himself peering down into an abandoned square. It wasn't the one where Rémington and Aghoul had eventually found their lanterns, but it did, similarly, contain a fountain that emitted the calming sound of trickling water.

Discord was weighing the pros and cons of turning it all to molasses and listening to the slop-slop of the viscous goo when he saw the single light in the recently-fallen night. The square wasn't abandoned. There was one person in it, and he was sitting on the rim of the fountain, lighting up a cigar that certainly wasn't in fashion here in Ba Sing Se.

With the loud pop of a firecracker, Discord appeared before Roman, who very nearly lost his balance and toppled into the fountain. He did lose the cigar, dropping it to the stone below. "What the FUCK, Patchwork?" Roman cried.

"Hello!" Discord waved and smiled. "Just thought I'd drop in."

"Okay, are you here for literally any other reason than to give me a heart attack?" Roman asked.

"Am I?" Discord asked mischievously, plopping down in a sitting position beside him, long neck craning over to look at him. "I don't know. Is there any recent event that happened that might be of relevance to you and me?"

Roman let out a heavy sigh. "Fuck off."

"No, I don't think I will. In fact, I'm quite comfortable." Discord suddenly had a neck-pillow wrapped around his snaking neck. "As I'm sure Archibald Snatcher isn't."

"Hm." Roman was in the process of lighting another cigar.

"You know," Discord went on, "as much as I am enjoying his misery, I do have to admit THIS feels a little out of sorts. Do I think all romance is doomed to end in betrayal? Yes. But you could've delayed the inevitable just a bit longer, you know? We were all having so much fun speculating on your love life, both vanilla and spicy in flavor."

"Huh." The cigar met his lips.

"Well, I suppose you're better off now, anyway," Discord declared. "No more nasty mutants shackling you down. Though, then again, I think we all know the condition CAN be cured. And you can forget any of this ever happened! You'll have your favorite boy-toy back, minus the offending scales and extra fins, and everyone will be – "

"You really think I DON'T feel like a huge piece of shit right now?" Roman snapped.

"Now that's more like it," Discord said with a smirk.

"Yeah, I know this is what you were baiting for," Roman asserted, holding the glowing cigar in two fingers. "You think this is easy on me? Look. A long time ago, I told myself: don't get attached. Well, Neo was already grandfathered in. We'd seen some shit. But once you get up into Salem's inner workings, you learn VERY quickly that you do NOT GET ATTACHED. First of all, because the only reason they never used Neo as leverage against me was because they couldn't even touch her. And more importantly, because attachments hold you back. All of them, they gave shit up. Scorpion Fuckface? He was married to his work anyway. Mustache? Oh, trust me, he came out of his relationship the CLEAR winner. I would know, since his ex was my warden, and I could see how paranoid that guy got since he faked biting the dust. Dustfists? Pretty sure the only reason he harps on about his fuckin' dead sister as much as he does is because if he lets himself get attached to anyone else, he loses his reason for doing anything, and he just can't deal with that identity crisis. Ergo, he does not let it go. He is the exception that proves the rule. And Bitch Queen? Climbed to where she is stepping on the backs of everyone else. Me and Neo included! She doesn't care about anyone or anything and she never did and THAT'S why she's Salem's little darling.

"Oh, but then there's me. I was on the fence bringing Neo around, but like I said, they couldn't touch her. Never got further than a one-night stand anywhere else. Well, okay, maybe a few repeat dates here and there, but it was all about what I could get. Do not underestimate the benefits of meal tickets and sugar daddies. But Salem or no Salem, I learned pretty quick that you keep your circle small and you do NOT get attached."

Roman heaved a sigh. "And then…fuckin' Archie shows up. And I don't even know what it is. The two of us ride down to the Underworld on the same hellevator and piss off the god of the dead, and next thing you know, I'm going from looking at this guy and thinking, 'Oh! This is the last person I'd sleep with in the universe, ever!' to being gutpunched by everything. The hands. The voice. The fucking confidence, whether or not it's fake. The silver tongue, the manipulation-central brain of his, and, look, I don't go for women, but him in a dress DOES something to me. And then suddenly it's just all of him. I don't even care. So I'm like, all right. I'll give this a shot. But only one shot. Then our little trip to Vale happens and I'm just – a lot of shit happened, okay? And we weren't in Salem's town anymore. I do happen to be a gambling man. So what if, just this once, I let myself get attached? No falling in love. THAT'S definitely not allowed. But maybe this one's good for more than picking up a couple checks and getting me off.

"Look, I don't know where or when it happened. But at some point…I promised without ever saying it out loud that this was gonna be ride or die. Not love! Do not get me wrong! I'm not THAT stupid! But…just…ride or die, y'know? I wanted him around. Maybe forever, I dunno. I wanna blow up fucking Jerktown with ten million pounds of raw Burn Uncut for him. It wasn't fair. Everything that happened to him. ANYTHING that ever happened. His life SUCKED. And so did mine, before the WHAM ARMY came along. Having him to lean on made it suck way, WAY less! So then we're a thing, and I never said it out loud, but we both know I meant ride or fucking die.

"Well. Here we are now, and I sure fucked that one up. In my defense, how could I have seen this coming? What the hell prepares you for your boyfriend turning into a fucking fish? But I can't, Patchwork. I CAN'T. You saw him! You got a load of that! Who WOULD fuck that?" Roman stopped himself. "Actually. No. You're you. You probably dated loads of slime beasts."

"I did date a slime beast once," Discord recalled. "It was all going so well until I asked the waiter for extra ketchup and he began to talk about suing me for copyright infringement."

"…I am not going to ask for the context on that one, because there is literally nothing that could make that make sense," Roman stated. "The point is…I know I should turn around, run back in there, tackle him and then try to tackle the fish problem. Except. I. CAN'T. This is NOT what I signed up for! Not to mention the sheer amount of Faunus he now happens to be! NOT my thing!" He rested his elbows on his thighs, then his head in his hands. "So I fucked up. It was not ride or die. And now he knows. And I know he knows. And it's not going to be as simple as having my 'boy toy' back once he's cured of it. Though, for the record, it's more accurate to say I'm HIS boy toy. Just saying."

"Ooh, juicy," Discord replied.

"We're both gonna know how easily this could break now," Roman sighed. "And all because I broke the one rule. The fuck was I thinking? Switching Salem out for Righty wasn't the magic pill. We're still the underbelly. The wrong side of the law. Getting attached is not for us. Except Neo. She'll always be the exception. I look out for her, she looks out for me. That's how it's always been. But she gets it. And I don't think she'd fault me one bit if she grew gills and I dumped her on the street. She'd do the same to me."

"Is that so?" Discord said with a heavy dose of apparent skepticism.

"Yeah," Roman told him. "It is so." A long pause. "Why do I even care? This should be a non-issue. And all I'm thinking about is that I never wanted to hurt him. But I CAN'T, Patchwork. Not with THAT. Sooooo here we are."

"Indeed," Discord stated. "It seems to be quite the impasse."

"Is this the part where you meddle somehow and we end up kissing and making up without any scales in the way?"

"I'm afraid not."

"Figured."

After a long silence, Roman commanded, "Just go away."

"As you wish!" Discord was gone with another firecracker pop.

Roman began to search his pockets. He knew he had something smokeable in there that would take the edge off more than tobacco would, and if this wasn't the right time to use it, no time would be.

Discord gave Roman one last look from his rooftop refuge before snapping himself clear across the city. "Pity," he muttered. "But if I solve his problems for him, then he'll never learn anything, and that goes both ways with those two."

He then shrugged. "Oh, well. I have bigger fish to fry. In extra ketchup."

With a snap, he conjured himself a small television set with rabbit-ear antennae. After fiddling with the antennae a good bit, he tuned it to a picture that could be found on no other frequency. "Ah, yes," Discord remarked, "my other favorite program: Whose Archnemesis Is It Anyway?"

He watched from a bird's-eye view as Aqua, Toph, Sokka, Suki, XR, Rosalina, Sora, Katara, and Aang sorted themselves into a cluster of tents, two of which already looked occupied by other teammates.

Shaking a box of gummy theater candy, Discord popped a few sweets into his mouth. "Now, this is going to be interesting."

...

The majority of the Gems had been evacuated from the barn. Now, only three remained to defend their meepmorp sanctuary.

A host of watery forms that looked vaguely humanoid (and all with mullets) surrounded Lapis. She took a fighting stance, balling her fists; a pair of wings made of water sprouted from her back.

"Go ahead!" Demyx challenged her. "Try and fight back! I won't judge if you're terrible. Glass houses, am I right?" A wink to indicate he perhaps didn't believe that about himself.

The water forms converged on Lapis; she gave a wild yell and began to punch them one by one, knocking them back but not destroying them.

"Is that SERIOUSLY all you got?" Demyx laughed. "I've seen better moves from – "

The water forms turned to face him now. All of which looked decidedly more feminine, bearing mullets no longer but banged bobs that looked identical to Lapis' own hair.

"WHAT?" Demyx yelled. "THAT'S CHEATING!"

He began to use his sitar as a bludgeon rather than an instrument of magic, twirling it by the neck to bring down the Lapis clones that were now converging upon him. Once they were taken care of, he looked up to see that Lapis had ascended above him on her watery wings.

Demyx struck a loud minor chord; "LIKE IT?" A solid wall of water barreled toward Lapis.

Lapis punched her way right through it, taking with her two long ropelike streams as the rest of the wall continued on toward the empty field. She whipped the water-streams at Demyx, and once they hit him, they froze into solid chains, two lines of links that fed into a cuff around his waist, which Lapis jerked like reins to fling him into the air.

"WAIT! NO!" Demyx yelled. "I DON'T LIKE IT!"

Lapis twirled thrice to spin him around good, then slammed him hard into the ground facedown.

The icy chain shattered from around him as he dug into the ground with his fingers, prying up his livid face. "That's it. I'm done playing nice."

Geysers erupted around Lapis from all angles; she punched and backhanded them to bend them away from herself, diverting their course to shoot in an array of directions.

Meanwhile, Flurious wasn't having a good time against Bismuth. All she had was a simple hammer; he was rather adept at evading it as she swung close-range. If Flurious had access to his sword, he probably would have been able to take her down in one go.

That said, for a reason he couldn't begin to comprehend, his sword simply would not move; it was frozen in midair, and one hand tugged at it uselessly as the rest of his body pivoted around Bismuth's attacks.

"Grimhilde," Doom commanded. "Feed into Flurious' blade; see if you can't amplify its power enough that it does not need to move."

"You are to find the location of the interference?" Grimhilde inferred.

"There is a ferrokinetic in range," Doom stated. "I will locate the offender."

Grimhilde raised both hands to the sky, then let lightning fly from her fingers to amplify Thunder Edge's magical output. Bismuth, still swinging away at Flurious and using her hammer to bash aside the ice projectiles he was throwing at her with his free hand, could feel her rainbow-colored hair beginning to break strands loose to fly freely at the proximity to the static.

If Doom were to use ferrokinesis to turn the tide of a battle, he thought, he would want to do so from high up. A vantage point. The tallest structure in the area was the barn. The only other option would have been to hide in what had presumably been a cornfield, but something had burned the crop long before he'd gotten there.

So he turne his gaze to the barn's roof, and sure enough, there was Peridot, eyes shut tight as she focused all of her energies on making sure Thunder Edge couldn't move an inch.

Doom raised a hand; electricity of his own rushed in a beam toward Peridot. She dove with a scream, sensing it last-minute; she fell out of sight as Flurious found Thunder Edge liberated.

With that, Flurious took a more serious swing at Bismuth, who backpedaled immediately.

"EVERYONE STOP! OR I'LL BURN THE BARN DOWN!"

The first two words on their own would have had no effect. But the second phrase actually did inspire everyone to halt in their tracks, turning to regard Hans and Gothel, who stood beside the barn.

"Is all this violence really necessary?" Gothel groaned. "Why, all we did was ask a simple little question!"

Hans put out his metal arm, balling up a flame in its palm. "No more games," he said coldly. "You tell us where they went, or you can say bye-bye to your barn."

"NO!" Bismuth yelled.

Lapis landed hard, bending a knee before Hans, then straightened up to look him in the eye pleadingly. "Please," she told him. "Don't do this. Our friend might be in there!"

Where had Peridot gone? She and Bismuth were united in worrying for their small green companion.

"Oh, wouldn't that just be too bad if she got burned up?" Hans mocked.

"She's a rock," Gothel reminded Lapis. "She'll survive."

"Ooh, good point," Hans realized. "Guess all you'll lose is the morpy meepings."

"MEEPMORPS," Lapis insisted.

"I'm gonna count," Hans threatened. "Ten. Nine. Eight – "

"OKAY!" Lapis shrieked.

"Lapis!" Bismuth yelled. "You don't owe 'em anything!"

"They were here!" Lapis cried. "Exactly like you described them! But there was an accident at the forge, and after it blew up, we didn't see which way they left! All we know is that they got out just fine! There weren't any remains of Gem or human in the forge! They must've run away scared!"

"So you don't even know which way they left?" Gothel asked. "Oh, and all this bother about information you don't even have!"

"You started it," Lapis seethed.

"It's the principle of the thing!" Bismuth added with a clenched fist. "You're all bad news, so if you're lookin' for someone you can't find, that means even more bad news!"

"Just leave the barn alone!" Lapis begged. "Please! It's…it's been with me through everything."

"I'm sorry," Hans told her, "but we had a deal."

"What?" Lapis gasped. "But – I told you the truth!"

"I never said tell us the truth and we'll spare the barn," Hans told her. "I told you to tell us where our targets went. And if you can't even give us that information…well."

The flames from Hans' hand shot forth, engulfing the barn in a conflagration of orange.

"I want it on record that I didn't even lie this time," Hans said with a grin.

"My man!" Demyx pumped his fist.

"Our search takes us elsewhere," Doom declared. "Come. Let us continue."

He stalked away from the barn, with Flurious, Gothel, Hans, Demyx, and Grimhilde falling into step behind him as the barn burned.

"NO!" Bismuth and Lapis screamed. "PERIDOT!"

They rushed toward the barn, hearing its wooden planks creaking all around them. Just inside, Peridot was gathering up as many crafted items as she could carry: paintings, dolls, boxes.

"We gotta save the meepmorps!" the green Gem yelled.

"There's no time!" Lapis shrieked.

Bismuth seized Peridot's waist in one bulky arm, and Lapis, having very little water to work with, pulled from a nearby glass someone had been using for watercolors to make them a protective bubble of a shield. Together, the three escaped a blink's worth of time before the barn caved in entirely.

"NOOOOO!" Peridot sobbed. "OUR MEEPMORPS!"

"I don't care," Lapis said as she dismissed the bubble. "Okay, that's a lie. I do care. But that's not the most important thing right now."

"It was all just stuff," Bismuth added. "Sure, stuff that was important to a bunch of us for expression. But we can always make new stuff. Can't make a new Peridot."

"You guys…" Peridot sniffled.

The three Gems exchanged an embrace as their former sanctuary was reduced to ashes.

...

Upstairs in Mozenrath's penthouse, the sorcerer had assembled a small council of himself, the Huntsman, a very groggy Hämsterviel, Montana, and Otto Octavius.

"It was indeed as you had warned," Otto seethed. "Electro is nowhere to be found."

"We should not have underestimated the sand creature," the Huntsman stated.

"Now," Otto went on, "tell me about this failsafe you are planning that we may retain Quentin Beck. Provided he is, in fact, worthy of such a place among us after today's show."

"The plan has two prongs," Mozenrath stated. "First of all, never underestimate the good old-fashioned power of friendship! A few of Quentin's self-confidence issues can be traced back to this Dmitri Smerdyakov person. We also happen to be down two super criminals. Why not kill two birds with one stone and see if we can't patch things up between them? Quentin is happy, Dmitri is happy, and we have one more to replace the two we lost."

"You assume the Chameleon will come quietly," Otto told him. "This will likely be your downfall."

"Oh, I don't intend to take him quietly," Mozenrath replied.

"Well, I do," Montana stated sharply. "Takin' 'im hostage'll just make the situation worse. What we gotta do is sweeten the pot enough that he'll wanna make amends."

"But that's the lesser part of the plan," Mozenrath stated. "Montana and I are going to be in charge of bringing home that lost black sheep. What I want the rest of you to do is a little…science project."

"We had better be getting to the part where you explain for what you so rudely awakened me from my beauty slumber," Hämsterviel muttered, rubbing at an eye.

"Octopus," Mozenrath began. "Hämsterviel. The two of you specialize in mutations and biological creations. Task number one for you is to come up with an augmentation for Mysterio that will put him on the same playing field as our two traitors and Rhino. I highly suggest building in a method for him to relieve himself this time."

"It will be of no use if he is bent on betraying us," the Huntsman pointed out. "We do not wish to make our enemies stronger."

"Which brings us to task number two," Mozenrath went on. "While you're working on the patient, see if you can pull a few strings in that brain of his. Like switching his conscience off."

"That would be highly unethical." Otto smirked. "I welcome the chance to do it."

"Keep him the theatrical drama queen he already is," Mozenrath went on, "but give me a fighting machine in the same package. Are we clear?"

"Oh, most certainly!" Hämsterviel seemed to have awakened fully upon hearing this prospect. "This shall be a defining moment of my career! With my sheer genius and the Octopus' helping tentacles – "

"You will take all the credit for his work," the Huntsman filled in. "Not that it matters; the results are what are most important."

"If we're all aware of what our assignments are," Mozenrath stated, "I suggest we start taking care of them. Montana, you and I have a lizard to catch."

He clapped Montana's shoulder with his right hand, and the two of them vanished in a blue twinkle.

"Ooh, how shall we modify our mysterious magic man?" Hämsterviel gushed. "Perhaps we fuse him with the mind and body of a rabid talonormatorinastrian!"

"You are the only one here who knows what that is," the Huntsman sighed, "and it is doubtful we are to find one nearby."

"I have a better idea," Otto suggested. "Perhaps a little crude, and it cuts corners more than I would like, but it is a concept I always have wished to experiment with."

"Well? WELL?" Hämsterviel urged. "Do not SUSPEND ME, you daft doctor!"

"One of Spider-Man's more persistent foes," Otto related. "One we never could wrangle for our own side. They called him 'Venom.' Perhaps more accurately, THEY were a young man named Eddie Brock and an extraterrestrial symbiotic organism that shared a consciousness and, eventually, a body. As of recent news, it seems the two have become separated. Brock is of little use to us – none at all, in fact. But the symbiote…"

"What would it allow Quentin to do?" the Huntsman asked.

"I was getting there," Otto seethed. "Venom was capable of everything Spider-Man was capable of, with some exceptions. He was strong, vicious, malleable. Extremely durable. A 'fighting machine,' if you will…and yet one that compromises with its host rather than overtaking it. Were we to expose Beck to the symbiote, he would still retain his sense of self…but with a little guardian devil whispering in his ear, encouraging his more primal nature."

"This sounds risky," the Huntsman stated.

"Indeed." Otto smirked. "Isn't that the fun?"

The Huntsman gave a nod. "I suppose you will require my assistance wrangling the symbiote."

"But of course," Otto stated. "It is currently on the loose in New York…but should not be difficult to find. It isn't a subtle organism by any means. That said, your experience would come in handy should it become violent. Do not harm it, however, else I will join the mutineers."

"Understood," the Huntsman stated.

"You two go and find your spidery symbiotic slime," Hämsterviel decided. "I shall maintain the all-important post of lookout for the laboratory area."

"Which you are doing because you do not want to meet the alien in the dark," the Huntsman inferred.

"I was going to make snickerdoodle cookies," Hämsterviel informed him. "Any more blows struck toward my courage or intelligence and you shall be allowed NO snickerdoodle cookies."

"Duly noted." The Huntsman turned to retrieve his cape and staff. "Ready yourself, Otto. I will meet you in the lobby momentarily."

"Spoken as if I have not been ready for this opportunity for quite some time," Otto replied.

...

"BREACH! THERE'S BEEN A BREACH!"

The troop of Jaspers, Quartzes, and Amethysts hustled through the hangar, weapons drawn.

"I thought this place was on lockdown!" a Quartz piped up.

"It was," a Jasper replied. "That's what's freaking everyone out!"

Indeed, it seemed Homeworld's finest security measures had been bypassed with brute force. Metal doors had been simply ripped through. Control rooms seemed to have been ravaged by giant monsters, though there was no evidence of where something that big could have gone – only the strange presence of an inessential item here or there: a shoe, a coffee mug, a wrench. (Though, didn't it look like where the shoe was found, panels had been crushed by an enormous foot? And where the coffee mug was located, burn marks on the walls and water damage to the electronics - )

"I thought there were Pearls all over the place around here!" an Amethyst wailed as the flashing warning lights gave her an on-and-off tint of bright crimson. "And they had their own Quartz Troops!"

That question was answered as soon as they rounded the corner into the interior lobby. There were, indeed, Pearls all over. Only their core gems, round and hard and rolling.

"What…?" the Amethyst gasped in a cold horror.

All at once, the Pearls emitted holographic clamshell images. "Please state your name," the frontmost said.

"Please state your name," the rest chorused.

"No! It CAN'T be!" a Jasper cried.

The first Pearl reformed, smiling brightly at the Jasper. "How do you dooooo?" she began to sing. "My No-It-Can't-Be! Thank you for bringing me into the world!"

The other Pearls took shape en masse, chorusing: "How do you dooooo, my No-It-Can't-Be?"

"They're…reset," a Quartz gasped. "Like the day they were made."

Similarly, the hangar itself was filled with Quartz soldiers who silently stood at attention, all dressed identically in the most basic of uniforms.

"Reset again!" the Quartz cried. "This means whoever broke in stole a Rejuvenator!"

"That's not all she took," a Jasper said shakily, pointing to the far end of the hangar.

It had been a place for storing only the strongest weapons, needed in cases of nothing less extreme than a last resort. Including the Injectors that were designed to purify a potential colony planet of organic life entirely.

One of which was missing, its outlet door wide open to reveal the Homeworld sky.

The troops rushed to stare through it. Kamdor and Spinel were long-gone. And they had with them both a Rejuvenator and an Injector.

"This is bad," an Amethyst stated.

...

Deep below the city streets, the black sludge bubbled on the roof of a cavernous sewer pipe. So many days had passed, and still it had not had the opportunity to seek a new host. Not just anyone would do; it wanted rage. It wanted bloodlust. It wanted power. If nothing else, at the very least discontent and desperation.

All considered, it wanted Eddie Brock.

But the two voices that echoed down the sewer struck it as noteworthy. After all, who would come all the way down here to the dankest, most moist part of the city willingly?

It crept closer, hoping to get the drop on the intruders.

It happened so fast – it had been offered a metal appendage that it had begun to creep down, then a bright green flash and it was temporarly paralyzed, dropping into a glass container that shut tight. When it regained its motor functions, it rippled, sloshed, banged against the walls of its prison.

"Well done," Otto Octavius praised. "Now, for the next phase."

"And there will be cookies waiting for us, at that," the Huntsman stated.