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.

121. And Tonight, We Are Live!

A/N: First of all, content warning for a character contemplating suicide. Second, there are some songs that you should be familiar with before going in: "Ex-Wives" from Six: The Musical, "Calypso" by John Denver, and "What Goes Around Comes Around: Reprise" from Pattycake Productions' The Villain's Lair. By the way, I think the genre of this fic has officially changed to "musical."

...

"Mozenrath! Mozenrath, WAIT!"

"I don't hear him," Mozenrath muttered as he attempted to briskly lead the Huntsman and Hämsterviel away from the persistent noise.

"I KNOW YOU CAN HEAR ME!"

Mozenrath flinched but didn't slow down.

He'd underestimated how quickly Quentin Beck could run – though it seemed he'd blown all his stamina on just that burst, having to catch one gasp of breath after skidding in front of the trio. "I INSIST you allow me to accompany you," he urged.

"Whyyyyyyy?" Mozenrath moaned. "You did your part! You contributed! Now's when you do the grand tour and the meet-and-greet and stay out of my hair until I'm ready to deal with you again!"

"You don't understand!" Quentin insisted. "One would think this the perfect cinematic happy ending. Or is it just the beginning of the sequel? I have my oldest friend returned and at my eternal servitude, a blossoming romance on the horizon, a newfound bloodlust that makes me want to take a razor-bladed vintage clapboard to the throats of all who dare underestimate me again – "

"Servitude?" Mozenrath raised an eyebrow.

"Romance?" the Huntsman sounded even more skeptical.

"RAZOR-BLADED VINTAGE CLAPBOARD?" Hämsterviel was salivating.

"Well, I can't go back to sadism without style anymore," Quentin scoffed. "Sure, Venom might've allowed me a few new tricks, but I sacrificed the performance itself in the name of results. It was a dark, gritty, edgy reboot done in shadows and monochrome by a director who has no idea of how the superhero genre works to begin with – which is to say, most superhero movies on the market these days – "

"Is there a point to this?" Mozenrath sighed.

The worst part was that he hadn't just left via Corridor, meaning there was part of him that wanted to actually see where this was going.

"You may recall the mention of one Phineas Mason during my scuffle with Dmitri," Quentin reminded. "Or perhaps not. It was a throwaway line; an Easter Egg of sorts. The point being he used to serve as an assistant to both me and Dmitri on separate occasions. Of course, he went with me last because he knows where the creative heart of the team really is, but that's beside the point. He was our technical wizard, and I have no desire to chase HIM down again. Too boring. No, I am now aware that I have worlds' worth of villains at my disposal to recruit in his stead! Someone with panache! Someone with flair! Someone with – "

"So you want a new tech assistant," Mozenrath grunted.

Quentin dropped the affectation of his voice: "Yeah. I want a new tech assistant. Though I was thinking since everything went down, I wouldn't have to settle for a technical wizard. I could get an ACTUAL wizard."

"And you want me to spare a sorcerer all to you," Mozenrath realized. "What makes you think I'm going to do that?"

"You picked up Rhino and I doubt he's a keystone member of this operation."

Mozenrath flinched. He really wished he had a solid argument against that.

"Give me an assistant," Quentin begged, "and I'll be so much more effective! My brains with some actual magic behind them? That's what you need for this team!"

"You don't have to give in to him," the Huntsman said softly.

"I know," Mozenrath replied, "but if I don't give him the toy he wants, he's probably going to throw a tantrum up until invasion day."

"Ohoho, tantrum!" Hämsterviel chortled. "That is rich, coming from you!"

Mozenrath punted him ("WHOA!") across the hall.

"Tell you what." Mozenrath withdrew his (newly forged) scroll. "I have a list for you to look through." Tap, tap, tap. "Here."

He offered the phone to Quentin, who began to scroll through several profiles outfitted with names and images. "Your Tinder?" Quentin said mischievously. "Sorry, but I don't think we'd make a good match."

"This is the Reject File," Mozenrath explained. "It's where I keep all the villains that I put under consideration for this venture and ultimately rejected for one reason or another."

"Why not just delete their information and forget they exist?" Quentin asked.

"Because I want new faces to hate," Mozenrath explained. "And also as a failsafe to make sure I don't accidentally recruit an incompetent I already passed judgment on. Now, I singlehandedly made the call on which of these wannabes got the dishonor of the wastebin. But I'll admit I've turned a Cousa Magda into a scythed chariot before. If you can find anyone in here you think has a shred of potential, then yes, you can come along to pick them up, and they'll be entirely your problem!"

"I can live with that." Quentin was already thumbing through the profiles. "Hmm…this looks promising. Makes his own costumes? That's a perk. Magic soup powers? Not what I was looking for…" Swipe. "Ugh, no purple blobs allowed." Swipe. "BORING. Though not sure what I'd expect from a military man, space or otherwise." Swipe. "Bugrom, you say - ?"

"Nononononono," Mozenrath interrupted. "You're in the 'Has a Conscience' folder. That's not gonna work. I made that folder after Sandman pulled his runner with Electro. You nearly topped the list. The point is, they're the most likely to walk if confronted with the idea of mass murder or other such things that make people clutch their pearls."

"Definitely not what I want," Quentin muttered. "All right, I'm at the home screen. What do I want?"

"Try the 'Incompetence' folder," Mozenrath suggested. "Morons, weaklings, and cowards, but at least they don't have a moral event horizon."

"Are you sure I can't pick from the 'Threatening' folder?"

"That folder is made up of people who would just as soon obliterate us as look at us."

"I'm not hearing a 'no.'"

"NO, QUENTIN."

"Fine." Quentin scrolled up and down. "I don't see an 'Incompetence' folder."

"Right." Mozenrath shook his head. "I forgot. I named it 'Amin Damoola.'"

"Why would you name it – "

"Inside joke. Just look."

"Hmmmm." Quentin was now in the Amin Damoola file, looking at profiles. "Horrible outfit? 'Nix' on David Nix. I don't work with horses, let alone horses with staircase fetishes. IS THAT SUPPOSED TO BE A PARALLEL-UNIVERSE ME? HE LOOKS LIKE A RIPOFF. I HAVE A MIGHTY NEED TO FIND HIM AND KILL HIM."

"LATER," Mozenrath growled. "Focus."

"This one looks like he'd start his obligatory villain song with the words 'I have a plan; it includes you,'" Quentin muttered, swiping. "And THIS one – "

He paused. Reading the bio. Taking in the profile photo and the ensemble that particular ne'er-do-well had chosen to wear. "Actually…this one might have merit."

Mozenrath put out his hand. "Let me see."

Quentin handed the scroll back. Mozenrath took a look. "…I suppose you could've picked worse," the sorcerer muttered, passing the screen to the Huntsman.

"I'd told you that one had potential," the Huntsman asserted.

"Do you want to put your denarii where your mouth is?" Mozenrath asked. "Because I'll put thirty on him showing up and setting us five steps back with his very existence. That said…Quentin, if you want a pet, you have to take full responsibility for it."

"I know what I'm signing up for," Quentin stated firmly.

"You also have to understand you're playing on a field with real sorcerers now," Mozenrath went on. "People of even such a low caliber as him aren't going to be impressed by a couple smoke bombs. At the very least, you'd need to show up in that stupid costume of yours and PRETEND you have some magical acumen."

"Then put that 'stupid costume' on me IMMEDIATELY!" Quentin crowed. "I have a wizard to win!"

...

As if Spinel's wackiness and dancing and singing hadn't been enough.

Now she was crying. And that was so much worse.

Kamdor had entered the cockpit to see her sobbing her eyes out, the black teardrop trails on her face now playing host to true rivers of water. And, in true Kamdor fashion, he had reacted by yelling, "WHY ARE YOU CRYING?"

"Because I can't do this!" Spinel wailed, looking back to him. "I don't WANT to do this!"

"WHY NOT?" Kamdor roared. "This is the moment you've dreamed of! When you finally destroyed Rose Quartz and everything she cared about more than you!"

"I miss her!" Spinel cried. "I just want her back! I just wanna know why she LEFT me! Maybe…maybe I can talk to her son…see if he's anything like her. See if he likes me, if he has a place for me at all."

In another time, if Kamdor weren't there, Spinel could have cried it out, shoved it down, forgotten about it until her landing on Earth. But Kamdor was here, and that made all the difference.

"If he has a PLACE for you?" Kamdor yelled. "That was never what this mission was about! We were going to take what we wanted with violence!"

"DON'T YOU GET IT?" Spinel marched straight up to Kamdor, waving her rubbery arms for emphasis. "She was my best friend! She was my ONLY friend for years and years! And she BETRAYED me! I can't tell if I want to get back at her or just get her back!" She halted when she was mere inches from Kamdor. "Any son of hers can't be heartless," she said softly. "What if…he wants me back, too? No one can possibly spend all that time together and just forget about it – "

With the "shing" of sliding metal, Kamdor's dual swords were plucked from their sheaths. "YOU'RE GOING TO STOP WHINING ABOUT YOUR MENTOR AND FOCUS ON THIS MISSION!"

Spinel shifted her weight to one hip, placing a hand there to look at Kamdor as derogatorily as she could through all of the tears. "And what would YOU know about being betrayed? You have no place to talk about it if YOU haven't felt that pain!"

"STOP TALKING ABOUT THIS NOW!" Kamdor roared.

"Why?" Spinel let out a harsh laugh. "Are you telling me you HAVE felt that pain?"

"I'm telling. You. To BE QUIET."

"Right!" Spinel cackled again. "Oh, what was I thinking? You're no betrayed! If anything, you're a traitor. Well, so long as it gets the job done."

She turned back to stride to the controls, wiping away the last of her tears with the back of her hand.

Kamdor was a traitor. It was true. So why was he wasting his time with someone who didn't want to be betrayed? Was he going soft by letting her stay untouched? By letting her dictate this much of his plan? If he gained anything of worth from Spinel's machinations, did that mean he'd had no reason to get rid of - ?

"I just wanted to be her friend," Spinel said sadly, looking across the universe from the dashboard window. "That's all I ever wanted. But I guess it was too much to ask. Thanks for nothing, Pink Diamond."

She barely had time to react. All she heard was the thumping of three quick armored footsteps, a roaring war cry –

She spun, horror plastered across her face; "NO!"

Kamdor brought both of his swords down.

This time, he didn't stop at her light-projected form. He bit all the way to the core. And Spinel's spinel shattered into five distinct pieces.

The young woman was gone instantly, her fragments glittering on the floor. Beside them, the handle of the strange weapon, the Rejuvenator, that she'd borrowed without permission from Homeworld clattered. No room inside of her Gem to store it anymore.

Kamdor dropped to a knee to collect the fragments and the dropped weapon. "I'm keeping YOU to remind me!" he growled.

Of who he was.

Of who he was supposed to be.

He shut down the Injector. Spinel's plan had already had too much sway over his own. He was here for the Corona Gem: nothing more. Nothing suggested by anyone else who could tie him down. Earth was safe, for now. Both the planet and Kamdor's heart free of poison.

(Was it?)

He climbed to the exterior, seeing the blue glimmer of Earth's oceans in the distance. He'd made greater leaps. He bent at the knee, then sprang.

...

"You know," Mysterio remarked as he, Mozenrath, the Huntsman, and Hämsterviel filed into the hall leading to the oaken sliding doors, "it's rather amusing that the witch was defeated by Tesla coils in a place called BATTERY Park."

"Keep the puns to a minimum or your mission ends here," Mozenrath grumbled. His grip tightened on the staff he held – a powerful wizard's staff, encircled by two rings carved in the shape of resting dragons.

The staff hadn't belonged to the person they were there for.

Mysterio slid the doors to the study open, revealing the chilling sight beyond. It was a small room, if lavishly decorated, mostly dominated by an enormous desk.

And seated directly behind that desk was the empty shell of a human.

Not dead. A victim of an entirely different crime. As such, his body had remained preserved, the same as when it had been drained of all its energy. His pale, slender frame was draped with all manner of flowing layers and glittering jewels, his feet encased in two boots that couldn't have cost less than a thousand dollars. His hair seemed to be dark at the roots but vibrantly bleached blond at the tips, one line-shaped goatee running down his chin. And his face was paralyzed in an expression of sheer terror: the sort that only comes from witnessing an unexpected betrayal from the closest of quarters.

"He really offsets the décor," the Huntsman remarked.

"Eeeewww!" Hämsterviel cringed. "Put the life back into that miserable magician at once!"

"I had thought you a man of science," Mysterio told him. "Surely you've seen your share of cadavers."

"Well, yes," Hämsterviel remarked, "but I usually made that oaf Jumba deal with – I MEEEEEAAAAAN it is out of sorts in so many ways that he has not even DECOMPOSED!"

"The Parasite Spell will do that to you," Mozenrath stated slyly. "Part of why I'm always on the fence about using it, myself. After all, it's so easy for the recipient of the extra energy to lose it all and reanimate the victim. No, if I'm going to steal someone's life force, I want them dead, and if I want someone reanimated, it's going to be on purpose."

"Shall we get this over with?" the Huntsman asked.

"Get this over with?" Mysterio flinched in such a way that his cape rippled. "GET THIS OVER WITH? You expect me to introduce myself to my sorcerous apprentice without a grand entrance and an introductory soliloquy? Preferably one that will strike fear into his heart – the sort of fear that presses a man into servitude as he fights to preserve his own life!"

"Really, George," Mozenrath remarked, "the fact that you didn't see this coming is on you."

He snapped his fingers, and several electronics appeared within the study.

"Lucky for you," Mozenrath went on, "I did."

"You even brought strobes!" Mysterio gasped. "I could cry tears of theatrical joy! Now, let's get the stage set!"

The lighting was artificially changed to a deep violet that masked most of the corners of the room in shadow. As fog seeped into the chamber, the Huntsman coughed; "You're going to poison yourself with this one day."

"Pish posh," Mysterio scoffed. "Exactly what I'd expect from a student of ATHLETICS."

"Whenever you're ready," Mozenrath told Mysterio.

"The time is nigh!" Mysterio declared, hand held high to point at the ceiling. "Behind me, now! I need to be the star of the show, after all!"

"I'm letting him have this once," Mozenrath grumbled as he, the Huntsman, and Hämsterviel shuffled to the back. "Once and only once."

Once they were arranged, Mysterio positioned before the desk, there was a silence of indeterminate length, and Mozenrath was about ready to ask if Mysterio could just get on with it when Mysterio beat him to it: "And…ACTION."

Mozenrath flicked the staff toward its owner. The gem atop it radiated a bright blue, and a streak of brilliant sky-colored electricity bolted across the study and into the lifeless body before them.

He came back with a gasping breath, choking for air.

"Cue thunder," Mysterio whispered.

Mozenrath snapped his fingers. An immense flash of lightning temporarily illuminated the entire room, but mostly Mysterio.

"DRAKE STONE!" Mysterio threw both his hands toward the ceiling, lights of red and blue now illuminating him from either side. "YOU HAVE BEEN SUMMONED FROM THE VERY GATES OF THE INFERNO BY A NEW MASTER FOR A DIVINE PURPOSE!"

Drake's response was to fall out of the chair and start crawling across the floor toward the corner of the room. "No," he muttered, shaking his head, looking even more horrified than he had in suspension. "Not doing THIS again. Once was enough!"

"SILENCE, MORGANIAN!" Mysterio pointed to him, punctuated by another crash of thunder. "You now serve a new purpose: that of MYSTERIO!"

Drake had scrambled to his feet, using the wall as a brace. "I don't think so," he told Mysterio, wide-eyed.

He flicked a hand before himself only to realize he was stripped of his ability to use any magic whatsoever.

"Oh, noooooo," Mozenrath chimed in. "Someone's lost his precious ring! Oh, where, oh, where could it possibly be?" He held up the tiny, shimmering dragon.

"You know what," Mysterio grumbled, "I was going to yell at you for upstaging me, but that was a good snark, so I'll allow it."

"You've got – " Drake's eyes flicked from Mozenrath to Mysterio and back. "WHY?"

"BECAUSE, DRAKE STONE!" Mysterio cried. "YOU HAVE THE QUALITIES REQUIRED IN A TRUE SERVANT OF MYSTERIO! YOUR TALENTS WERE WASTED ON MORGANA. YOUR DESTINY PLACES YOU ON A PATH OF FLAMBOYANCE, GLAMOR, AND FLAIR!"

"Now, wait," Drake said, tune suddenly changing. "You know – " His mouth broke into a pearly smile. "Oh. I get it. You're fans. This whole act, yeah, that's adorable."

"Would a mere FAN of your work possess THE RING OF YOUR POWERS?" Mysterio posed.

"…I guess not," Drake realized. "Who are you, again?"

"I AM THE GREAT MYSTEEEER – "

"Yeah, yeah, Mysterio. Got that part. You said it like twice. But who ARE you? A Morganian?"

"MYSTERIO BOWS TO NO WITCH OF ANCIENT ARTHURIAN LEGEND!" Mysterio replied. "HE IS HIS OWN MASTER, TRAVERSING THE DIMENSIONS IN SEARCH OF FAME AND RICHES UNTOLD!"

"So you're a sorcerer?" Drake posed.

"MYSTERIO IS A MASTER OF ILLUSION!" Mysterio went on. "A CAPTIVATING SPECTACLE THAT NONE CAN LOOK AWAY FROM!"

"But are you a sorcerer?" Drake repeated.

Mysterio was now sweeping this way and that, throwing his arms into various poses; "A CRIMINAL FEARED AND REVERED! A TRUE ONE-MAN SHOW!"

"But are you a SORCERER?" Drake asked.

"I would stop dodging the question," the Huntsman hissed.

"I am a master of theatrical wizardry!" Mysterio explained. "A connoisseur of showmanship! A master of – "

"Starting to get it now," Drake realized. "Don't know how you know about Morganians, but you were a rival magician for my show, weren't you?" He let out a slight laugh. "Except you're one of the fakes."

"I AM NOT YOUR – " Mysterio groaned, loud and long and gravelly. "Look, kid, I'm an interdimensional crime lord with an interest in the arcane arts, and I'm on the market for an assistant. Can't you at LEAST be grateful I put the life back in you?"

"So…a Planeswalker?" Drake guessed.

"…Yes?" Mysterio guessed.

"NO," Mozenrath yelled. "I'M THE PLANESWALKER! HE DOESN'T HAVE ANY MAGIC!"

Mysterio whirled to glare at Mozenrath – an effect rather lost by the way his helmet obscured his eyes completely.

"Attack me to diminish my loyalty," Mozenrath growled at him.

"So." Drake pointed to Mozenrath. "Sorcerer." Then Mysterio. "Not sorcerer." Huntsman. "…Maybe?" Hämsterviel. "Familiar."

"I AM RESENTING THAT!" Hämsterviel shook a tiny fist.

"If it's any consolation," Mozenrath stated, "you come work for us and you'll never have to see Maxim Horvath again. He steps on our premises, we vaporize him on the spot. And I'm guessing you could use that security right about now."

"And how do I know you're not just going to leech my life force again?" Drake asked.

"If we were going to do that," Mozenrath told him, "then why would we BOTHER bringing you back? We could've just taken the ring and run!"

"That's a point," Drake realized. "Now, let me see if I've got this straight. You want a sorcerer to join your…crime ring…?"

"Crime, conquest, all things evil," Mozenrath listed off, waving his hand dismissively. "Collectively, our syndicate is known as – "

"THE WHAM ARMY!" Mysterio cried dramatically, stepping before Mozenrath and throwing up his arms again.

"STOP THAT!" Mozenrath pushed Mysterio aside. "You're getting us nowhere with all the monologuing!"

"SOLILOQUIZING," Mysterio corrected. "Only IDIOTS monologue."

"Is it not the same thing?" Hämsterviel posed.

"WHAM ARMY," Drake repeated. "Like the sound of that. You know…" He threw out his hands dramatically. "WHAM!"

` "Yes," Mozenrath sighed. "That's one way to put it."

Drake was already chuckling. "Bunch of WHAMMERs."

"Don't call us that," Mozenrath groaned.

"But your endgame goal is what?" Drake asked. "Because if it's about resurrecting another witch to settle an old score, I'm not on board."

"Well, we have done both of those things – not necessarily related to each other – but our ultimate goal is to take an empire of our own and expand it to include, oh, where's a good stopping point?" Mozenrath pretended to think it over. "I think the entire known multiverse will do."

"Let it be known that if you have a problem with blood on your hands," the Huntsman stated firmly, "or at least blood on ours, refuse now and we may spare you a worse fate than if we learned this at a critical juncture."

"Depends," Drake stated. "Are the people you're going to be killing my fans?"

"Not necessarily," Mozenrath told him. "I mean, if you're involved, they'll probably hate you for killing them."

"And am I going to HAVE fans?"

"Fame is a cornerstone of the venture!" Mysterio declared. "If it wasn't before, then my inclusion ensures it CERTAINLY is! Hence you will desire to serve my theatrical vision and help me to stage productions of an epic scale to leave the common people in a state of shock and awe!"

Drake snapped both fingers to point at Mysterio; "I like that. I like that a lot."

"And think of it this way," Hämsterviel posed. "Should your 'fans' meet an untimely demise, you can simply gather a NEW throng of dithering disciples!"

"That works," Drake agreed. "All right. You promise no Horvath, no Parasite Spell, just fame and fortune, and that's weirdly everything I ever wanted in the first place. Maybe third time's the charm, eh?"

"Third?" Mozenrath raised an eyebrow.

"Third mentor," Drake explained. "First guy, pretentious as they come, insists on going by 'Archmage,' like I'm going to call him that, decides I've got no potential and leaves me in the dust. That right messed me up, but I kept the stiff upper lip, glossed it up nice and shiny, and flew solo. Then came Horvath, and, well, you have that ring, you know that turned out. Can I have it back, by the way?"

Mozenrath tossed the ring over to Drake, who missed it entirely, quickly scooped it off the carpet, and muttered "That didn't happen" while sliding it onto his finger. Then, as an experiment, he conjured a few bright-white plasma bolts, sending them into the desk.

"That's good riddance," he muttered, never wanting to see that desk again.

"And is this going to be a problem?" Mozenrath asked.

"Probl – no." Drake shook his head, smiling nervously. "No, no, doesn't mean anything. Stings? Yes. End of the world? No."

"I suppose I'm no stranger to bad mentors," Mozenrath sighed.

And a silence passed between them, words unspoken. Words that Mozenrath surmised didn't even need to be spoken –

"Oh, I get it. You've got abandonment issues too, is it? Touch of sympathy maybe – "

Or maybe Mozenrath had given Drake too much credit in that regard.

"I DO NOT HAVE SYMPATHY!" Mozenrath cried. "FOR ANYONE! END OF DISCUSSION! Uuuuggghhhh…Mysterio, just get your apprentice under control and let's go back to base!"

"Back to BASE?" Mysterio repeated.

"Oh no," Mozenrath muttered.

"I have yet to prove my apprentice's worth!" Mysterio declared. "After all the paces you put ME through, you think I'm going to settle halfway?"

"I think you've already decided on this one and just want to go through the motions for dramatic effect," Mozenrath muttered.

"AND IS THAT A BAD THING?" Mysterio yelled at him.

"…No," Mozenrath grumbled, "so long as you don't get in my way. Our next stop is a very important business transaction. The target is very no-nonsense, and therefore, I am expecting NO NONSENSE."

"Who put the stick up his bum?" Drake asked.

"I've been trying to figure that out since I arrived," Mysterio groaned.

"I mean," Hämsterviel pointed out, "to my understanding, the Huntsman is the one who inserts – "

And he got punted by Mozenrath again. "NOT LITERALLY!" Mozenrath yelled. "DON'T AIR THAT LAUNDRY!"

The Huntsman shifted and cleared his throat, not sure how to recover from that little slice of awkwardness.

"But you two are going to keep quiet," Mozenrath growled. "No tricks, no treats, no soliloquies, no magic acts unless I give the word. You know how businessmen are, after all. Am I clear?"

"Claritin clear," Drake stated before letting out a chortle at his own joke.

"…Am I supposed to understand that?" Mozenrath asked. "Actually, I don't want to know. Let's just go already!"

As far as Drake was concerned, he had no proof yet that this wouldn't be a worse arrangement than Horvath, or that man with the glimmering blue jeweled headdress and the silver beard who'd promised Drake the world and then dismissed him as incompetent. They all started out the same way, luring him in with sweet words before the knife came out.

But in truth, he was desperate enough not to care. If they were only faking interest in him, well, that was better than no one acting interested at all.

...

Sulley had reserved a conference room for his myriad guests, who seemed to be enjoying the oversized, plushy chairs made to accommodate just about any monster's width. Aang in particular was dwarfed by his chair, but even though his feet didn't reach the ground, he still found a way to utilize airbending to make it spin round and round, which prompted Sora to do the same with a well-cast Aero.

"Truly, we work with only the best and brightest," XR sighed, watching the boys spin their chairs.

"Now." Sulley lay out several sheets of paper, thick with print. "We have two things we need to take care of to get a new door started. First of all, there's the paperwork."

"PAPERWORK?" Aang groaned.

"I'm guessing there's protocol around this," Aqua stated.

"Well, yes and no," Sulley told her. "Licensing a door isn't really something we've seen a need for before now, and we can talk about intended use if this becomes a long-term arrangement."

"And that would come with a price," Aqua realized.

"For upkeep and to cover door material cost," Sulley told her. "But this one, I'm considering your…'free trial.' No expiration." He winked at Aang. "After all. It's important."

"Eh, we can pay up just fine," Sora said with a wave of his hand. "It'll just have to come out of the potions fund."

"AND THE…" Papyrus shuddered. "PAPERWORK? WHICH, OF COURSE, I REALIZE IS A VERY IMPORTANT ADULT RESPONSIBILITY THAT I DO NOT SHY AWAY FROM AT ALL."

"Mostly for the link," Sulley explained. "If we're going to hook up a door between two worlds, neither of which is this one, then we need coordinates and some world data to make sure the link is solid and secure."

"I can provide that," Rosalina stated. "I have many records on both worlds in question."

"Any incidental details can help," Sulley added, "such as the layout of the building where we're installing on Zuko's end and the area of the bailey we're linking to on Sora's."

"I'll provide any answers you need about the Fire Nation palace," Zuko stated. "That is so long as they don't encroach upon defensive weaknesses."

"Won't even touch that," Sulley promised. "Believe me, our agreement for utilizing this technology is that we don't use it for military or offensive purposes. You do NOT want the monster government breathing down your neck for improper use of door."

"Will that be a problem on our end?" Aqua asked. "Since we're not using our door for quick laughter sessions."

"No, there's actually a loophole for this," Sulley recalled. "Even though it's never happened before, if two worlds link a door that doesn't pass through this world, then we're absolved of any consequence, since we can't use it in either direction. All the same, it's best we keep anything sensitive on need-to-know."

"What's the other thing that we need to do?" Sora asked. "Is that boring, too?"

"Sora!" Aqua chided.

Sulley just laughed. "No. The other half is to pick a suitable door. Since we're not matching it up to a pre-existing door, we can use a more generic template. Anything from Warehouse A113 should work."

"Which means you want us to head out and look for a door, right, Sulley?" Mike chirped.

"Explore more of the cool factory?" Aang's eyes lit up. "I wanna do that!"

"So Schmoopsie-Poo and I can lead the warehouse contingent," Mike decided, "and you'll stay here and work out the fine print!"

"Okay, team," Sora resolved. "Let's decide who goes where. I know I'm not sticking around here to do any paperwork."

"That kind of leaves me and Ven the only people who can give information on Radiant Garden," Aqua reminded him. "I don't think I need to ask which way Ven wants to go."

"Heheh…" Ven scratched the back of his head nervously. "Sorry, Aqua."

"Don't apologize." Aqua smiled softly. "You need room to stretch your wings. Making up for lost time, after all."

"I have data on both worlds," Rosalina reminded the group. "I shall stay."

"Zuko, do you HAVE to stay here?" Aang groaned. "This is gonna be no fun! You should come with my group!"

"It's not that I wouldn't rather be having fun with you," Zuko stated, "but this kind of thing takes a lot of work. I'm the best person to give intel on the Fire Nation, where we're setting up the door."

"I mean, I know the palace layout pretty well," Toph volunteered. "I almost wanna do it just to prove I can school Zuko on it. Listen, I had to feel it out to find my way around."

"Maybe Toph can fill in here," Sora suggested, "and Zuko could come with us?"

"Pleeeeaaaase, Zuko?" Aang fired the Fire Lord a pair of exaggerated puppy eyes. "It'll be fun…"

"Well…" Zuko sighed and relented. "Okay. I'll go."

He never could resist, in the end, when Aang asked like that, because he knew it would be worth it.

"I can help put together the paperwork," Katara said quickly. "Sokka, you should help me!"

"Wha - ?" Sokka shook his head. "I did NOT sign up for that!"

"But it'll be fun sibling bonding time!" Katara insisted.

"Doing paperwork is sibling bonding time?" Sokka raised a suspicious eyebrow.

"What about couple bonding time?" Suki asked. "…You and me. Doing paperwork."

"Okay, WHAT IS GOING ON HERE?" Sokka cried.

A metal tap on his shoulder. He turned to see XR's arm retracting, followed by the robot making several gestures that Sokka didn't understand.

"Okay, what?" Sokka asked.

With a sigh, XR opened up his chest panel to expose a miniature fan on a thin metal arm; he set it blowing and pretended to airbend it.

Sokka pointed to Aang quizzically.

XR nodded, then retracted the fan in order to withdraw a blowtorch.

Sokka pointed to Zuko.

XR then stuffed away the torch and started making kissy faces, pretending to make out with himself while forming a heart shape with his hands.

"OH," Sokka realized. "Okay, yeah. Paperwork. Sounds fun."

"I WANT TO COME ALONG ON THE WAREHOUSE ADVENTURE!" Papyrus spoke up. "IF ONLY BECAUSE NOT ENOUGH PEOPLE HAVE VOLUNTEERED FOR THAT."

Beside him, XR pointed to the skeleton with one hand and an air vent set alongside the wall behind him with another.

"WHAT ABOUT YOU?" Papyrus asked, turning to XR and forcing the robot to quickly hide his hands behind his back before he could imply anything else about Papyrus and a word that sounded like "vent."

"Who, me?" XR said innocently. "Report filing's not my style. Believe me, I do enough of that at Star Command. And then REdo all of it because of alleged 'grammatical errors.' I mean, really, is anyone going to care if I misspell 'astronomical'?"

"Don't let him anywhere near your paperwork," Celia cautioned.

"All right!" Mike crowed. "Team Warehouse, move out! Let's leave the boring stuff to the stiffs!"

"I'm a little skeptical of how a warehouse can be fun," Zuko stated.

He swallowed his words later when "Team Warehouse" stood at the edge of Warehouse A113's massive storage room, watching door templates flit from one end of the seemingly infinite space to the other, attached at the top to wheeled tracks.

"THIS IS SO AWESOME!" Aang yelled.

"Wait 'till you see how we get around in this place!" Mike leapt off the catwalk and onto the nearest door. "Race ya to the other side!"

"Oh, it is SO on!" Aang leapt onto another door, whooping with joy as it ramped up in speed. "LAST ONE THERE'S A ROTTEN TURTLE-DUCK EGG!"

"No way I'm gonna be a rotten turtle-duck egg," Zuko grumbled playfully before apprehensively approaching the catwalk, then finally making the leap to grab onto his own door, nearly slipping right off.

"No way this is safe," Ven observed. "Aqua would FLIP."

"Good thing Aqua's not here right now!" Sora jumped on a door of his own. "YAHOO!"

"HMMMM…I WOULD RATHER NOT," Papyrus mused. "NOT AFTER THE OMASHU INCIDENT."

"Good call," Ven told him.

"Well," Celia stated, "there is the old-fashioned way."

She gestured to a narrower catwalk that connected the platforms of the warehouse.

"NOW THAT LOOKS SAFE!" Papyrus remarked.

"So, you handle clerical work around here, right?" XR recalled. "Say I wanted to outsource some doors from your corporation for a…small business venture."

"I DON'T EVEN WANT TO KNOW," Papyrus groaned as he, Ven, Celia, and XR took off across the catwalks.

All of which transmitted through a small security monitor set atop a wide control panel at the heart of the factory.

In this central control room, mostly dominated by that panel and a few others, Snatcher and Randall were hard at work welding together a curious metal device.

"I'd hurry it up," Discord cautioned, hovering over them with an enormous pocket watch that clicked sonorously. "Tick, tock, they're getting closer!"

Randall shut off his blowtorch, lifting the welding mask Discord had conjured for him. "That should do it," he remarked. "That is, if Snatcher's money is where his mouth is."

"I resent the implication that any device I have made has been nonfunctional," Snatcher muttered.

Discord went into a coughing fit that sounded strangely like the words "Herbert Trubshaw" before popping a lozenge.

"Now lemme get this straight," Randall reiterated as Snatcher silently fumed. "This thing is just a skeleton for one of those…what'd you call it?"

"Unversed," Mim told him. "Creatures born completely of negative emotion. They're called that because they're supposedly not versed in how to live, though I think they're doing just fine. If I could remove all positivity from myself, I would be one happy – or rather UNhappy camper! Now, it's a common misconception that you have to undergo a complex ritual to split a person in two in order to make any, but they're more common than you realize. They just need a little more incentive to come out than Heartless do. For beings of Darkness, they're easy to just call up, but for our particular victims, we need to do some more legwork. For one, the frame you've just built. And for another, we need one of our targets to break."

"In other words," Randall recalled, "send them into a state of depression."

"And the frame will attract that sadness and pull it right out of them!" Mim crowed.

"But how are we going to bring out that sadness?" Discord asked with all the sincerity of an audience plant.

"Why, with THIS, of course!" Mim withdrew a potion vial from her dress pocket, holding it aloft. A slightly thick liquid sloshed about inside, a dark purple color that was just a bit unsettling. "This perfectly puce liquid – "

"So that's what puce is!" Randall cried.

Mim, Snatcher, and Discord stared at him in silence.

"Look," Randall grumbled, "I wasn't the one who filed end-of-day reports. The one day my assistant called in sick, I got written up because I didn't do the right thing with the puce papers, which is STUPID because how was I supposed to know what PUCE is? Anyway, I never let him take another sick day after that, and that was the end of that story."

"This is a little something I had Yzma whip up for Liquid Assets," Mim explained. "After all, selling the cheap stuff is only gonna get us half the demographic we want. I figured we should have something with a little vicious KICK in the back storeroom for the customer who asks in the right way!"

"Your people already sound like my people," Randall commented.

"This little concoction is called 'Disorderly Syndromic Trauma Potion,'" Mim went on, "or 'DSTP.' It causes whoever it comes into contact with to relive only their WORST memories in a horrible montage of flashbacks!"

"So who's the lucky kid?" Randall asked.

"You know heroes," Discord scoffed, waving a claw. "They're all coming off some tragic backstory or another. 'Ooh, my parents were horrible, but it turned out they weren't my real parents!' 'I felt alone and bullied until I found this magic portal!' 'My life was so mundane, I thought I had REAL problems, and then I got handed a sword that took care of all my problems for me!'."

"It doesn't matter who we hit," Mim stated. "The DSTP will bring out only the most horrible moments of their lives, but all in their head! It's enough to make any goody-goody lose hope! They'll be plunged into the depths of despair…"

"And our machine will be completed," Snatcher said with a wicked grin. "At which point it will proceed to destroy all of our targets while we make a great escape."

"But until then," Discord said, "we get to have a little FUN with our prey."

"Right." Randall nodded. "Almost sad Sullivan isn't in on this. But you know what? Getting to knock Wazowski off the board might be just as satisfying. And his little girlfriend? All bark and no bite."

"Did you two have some sort of history?" Snatcher asked.

"Don't ask," Randall seethed.

And Snatcher understood completely.

"Sooooo…" Randall approached the control panel. "First things first, I'm gonna need access to the factory mainframe. It might take a hot minute, but I'll have that password cracked in – "

"Oh, don't you worry about that!" Discord leapt at the panel, phasing completely through it.

Several beeps and clicks emanated from the panel before the words "ACCESS GRANTED" appeared on the monitor above. Discord popped back out of the machine, grinning. "Really, give me a challenge next time!"

"What the – " Randall flinched. "How'd you – okay, never mind." To himself: "I'm already dealing with magic potions here. You'd think I'd stop being surprised."

"Oh, and we need a better screen to catch the show!" Discord realized. "Allow me!"

He snapped his fingers, and the small monitor overhead was replaced by several king-size flat screens that encompassed half the upper perimeter of the control room.

"Nice!" Randall cried. "This is gonna be fun."

He made the last few touches; switches flicked here, buttons pressed there, several commands typed. All with a snicker under his breath.

"I like him," Mim whispered to Discord and Snatcher.

"He's oddly relatable," Snatcher whispered back. "For a filthy beast."

"Now why do I get the feeling you don't really believe those last four words you just said?" Discord probed. "Could it be because you've spent so much time as a filthy beast – "

"Watch. Your. TONGUE," Snatcher warned.

Discord shrugged. "All right." He then extended his tongue out several feet and curled it up to where both eyes could focus on it.

"Activate lasers – aaaand done." Randall set the last control. "Showtime."

"And right on time, too!" Mim cackled, pointing to the monitors. "Look!"

Mike, Celia, Papyrus, Ven, XR, Sora, Aang, and Zuko had emerged from Warehouse A113, clutching the most generic-looking door anyone present ever had seen.

"Time's up, Wazowski," Randall hissed. "This campus belongs to the cool kids."

His finger depressed a button labeled "INTERCOM."

"All right!" Mike cheered proudly as the warehouse team exited the immense storeroom into a much more manageable hallway, with Papyrus singlehandedly lifting the template door up to carry it along. "We got our door! Now it's back to the conference room and we're in business!"

"Who won, by the way?" Ven asked.

"Aang overtook us last-minute," Zuko grumbled.

"Hey!" Aang argued. "I didn't mean to! I didn't see that Mike slipped! I'm glad you caught him, Zuko. I still feel bad."

"Can we not bring that up?" Mike asked.

"But if you hadn't stopped to catch him," Aang went on, "you would've won the race for sure!"

"No, seriously," Mike babbled, "I will pay you in ACTUAL MONEY to not bring that up."

"You almost fell off the door?" Celia gasped. "Googly-Bear!"

"There goes my rugged tough-guy image," Mike lamented.

"I say we give Zuko the hero prize," Sora suggested.

"What's the hero prize?" Zuko asked.

"I treat you to ice cream!" Sora said with a wide smile. "What's your favorite?"

"My favorite?" Zuko had to think about that. "How many flavors are there? I've only ever had it honeyed."

"Well, we gotta change that!" Sora insisted. "Hmmm…I know Scrooge was working on a chili ice cream recipe. You like hot stuff, right?"

"ARE YOU ASSUMING JUST BECAUSE HE'S A FIREBENDER?" Papyrus gasped.

"I mean…he's not wrong." Zuko shrugged.

"Oh, here!" Ven reached over to the door in Papyrus' mittened hands. "Lemme get that. It looks heavy."

"OH, NONSENSE!" Papyrus replied. "IT'S LIKE LIFTING A – "

Ven tapped the door, and it vanished in a rain of sparkles.

"THE DOOR!" Papyrus gasped. "WHERE'D IT GO?"

"I have it," Ven explained. "It's a Keybearer trick. See?"

He made it reappear in his own hands, then stumbled under the weight and quickly packed it away again.

"Kinda hard to add any more potions if I'm carrying it, though," Ven admitted.

"Now that is nifty," XR remarked.

"I'm NOT teaching you how to do it to sell something to people!" Ven argued.

"Why must you assume EVERY comment I make is a lead-in to monetizing something/" XR griped.

"…Oh," Ven muttered. "Sorry – "

"I mean, I was getting there," XR admitted, "but I might not've been, and now you only have my word to prove anything."

A crackle overhead. Then a voice that was certainly not Celia's echoing over the intercom. "Attention, all losers! This is your local disgrace returning to darken your doorstep with an announcement. Starting today, I'm numero uno. Top of the leaderboard, baby!"

Sora, Papyrus, XR, Ven, Aang, and Zuko were confused. But Mike and Celia's blood ran cold.

"No," Mike whispered. "It CAN'T be. How did he – we shredded that door into DUST!"

"Now, I know what you're thinking," the voice continued. "'No, it can't be? How did he come back? That door was shredded into dust!' And I'll have you know I was almost turned into somebody's wallet. Thanks, Sullivan. Or did you not know that? That your benevolent and soft CEO who only cares about your well-being took care of a dissenter by THROWING HIM TO THE HUMANS?"

"No…" Celia gasped, pressing both arm-tentacles to her mouth.

"Things are gonna change around here," the voice went on. "See, I got my door fixed up by some real cool new pals, and I've got a way to revolutionize the energy industry that does away with all that useless laughter."

"New pals?" Mike repeated.

Sora, figuring this intruder was a villain, guessed, "Maleficent?"
"OR MOZENRATH?" Papyrus contributed.

"We're in control of this factory now," the voice went on. "And I suggested a few improvements: some real doozies I just know you're gonna love. But why take my word for it? Go see for yourself. Oh, and a special message to Wazowski and Sullivan: consider your careers officially over. You're not getting out of here alive."

There was then a reprieve from the announcement: a threatening silence.

"Who is that guy?" Sora asked.

"Randall," Mike seethed. "He tried to hurt a kid to get his scare totals up! Who knows what woulda happened to her – to so many other kids if we hadn't stopped him!"

"DID YOU REALLY THROW HIM INTO ANOTHER WORLD?" Papyrus asked.

"I DIDN'T KNOW IT WAS GONNA BE A HOSTILE DOOR!" Mike argued.

"It sounds like you made the best choice you could," Ven mused. "But what did he mean about making improvements to the factory?"

"If he has intercom access and is also claiming to be in control of the factory," Celia said sharply, "he has to be at the central control panel. We have to get there before he does too much damage!"

"Um, hello?" XR reminded the group. "Did you not hear the part where we DON'T GET OUT OF HERE ALIVE?"

"You can't even die," Zuko reminded him. "You were the one telling us about how you've gotten smashed to pieces a hundred times and came back 'better than ever.'"

"Yeah, well, that doesn't guarantee I WON'T someday!" XR argued.

"Don't worry," Sora told him. "We'll make sure that's not even on the table."

"Yeah!" Aang agreed. "No way this guy was planning on the Avatar showing up!"

"LET'S GO!" Ven and Papyrus yelled as one, barreling forward.

"WAIT!" Mike chased after them, a hand outstretched. "YOU GUYS DON'T KNOW THE WAY!"

Zuko nodded to Aang; "Let's take care of this."

"You know it," Aang replied.

"I got your back," Zuko stated, and the two of them were off.

The others followed, in full view of Randall, Mim, Snatcher, and Discord.

"Let the games begin," Randall muttered as he flipped several switches.

Mike and company arrived at the edge of a conveyor belt utilized for machining door frames. As soon as they came within range, one of the laser robot arms pivoted to fire directly at them.

"WHOA!" Sora yelled as they leapt, half one way, half the other, to avoid being fried.

"Surprise, losers!" Randall commented from overhead. "Look who's starting to sweat. Whaddaya think of my upgrade?"

Upon those words, the rest of the robot arms began to fire bright-red lasers indiscriminately up and down the length of the conveyor belt.

"THIS IS…NOT VERY GOOD, IS IT?" Papyrus remarked.

"Yeah, but it's just fire, right?" XR suggested. "That means our firebenders extraordinaire can handle this just fine!"

"No," Aang told him. "It's not fire. I'd know if it was. This is some kind of…concentrated light."

"YOU'RE A ROBOT!" Papyrus cried. "YOU HAVE LASERS! HOW DID YOU NOT KNOW THAT?"

"Look, I never got a formal education, okay?" XR argued, folding his arms. "There's no need to be a bully about it!"

"What about your bone shields, Papyrus?" Sora asked. "Think you could block 'em?"

"NOT SURE," Papyrus stated. "THOSE LOOK HOT ENOUGH TO SEAR RIGHT THROUGH! BUT IT DOES MAKE ME WONDER ABOUT A TECHNICALITY. INTENT TO KILL IS ENOUGH TO FELL A MONSTER LIKE ME IN ONE BLOW…BUT DOES THAT COUNT IF IT COMES FROM AN AUTOMATON THAT CAN'T HAVE INTENT?"

"I don't think now's the place to test that," Ven said worriedly.

"Okay," Mike babbled. "Okay, okay, okay. This is fine. We can cut off the lasers if we hit the power bank, which is…uhhhhh…power…bank…"

"That way." Celia pointed a tentacle.

"You're a GENIUS, Schmoopsie-poo!" Mike cried. "Anyone ever tell you that?"

"Not enough," Celia said smugly as she folded her limber arms.

However, the only way to the control terminal Celia had indicated was to walk either on or alongside the belt. The belt that was currently blazing with laser fire.

"Wait!" Aang suddenly cried. "I have an idea! See those metal things?"

He pointed out the door frame parts that were being shuffled along the belt. They were, for the most part, unharmed, being made out of incredibly sturdy metal.

"What if we did like a game of hide-and-seek from the lasers?" Aang suggested. "We could use those things!"

"Good call," Zuko said. "Though I wouldn't think of this as a game."

"But if you can avoid all the lasers," Aang told him with a playful nudge of the elbow, "you get to tie the score after the race."

Zuko found himself smiling. "Well. Can't say no to that."

"All right, everybody!" Sora decided. "Mike, Celia, Papyrus, you guys stay back. Everyone else, follow me! It's time to play extreme hide-and-seek!"

"WHAT?" Randall cried in dismay as he watched his intended victims dash from frame to frame in order to shield themselves and progress down the belt. "HOW DID THEY – THEY'RE NOT SUPPOSED TO DO THAT!"

"Welcome to our world," Snatcher growled sardonically

"And the worst part is they don't even cheat." Mim folded her arms.

At the control terminal, XR approached first. "Before we do anything rash and harm an innocent piece of technology," he stated, "I wanna try the diplomatic approach."

He extended a USB cable, plugging it into the terminal – only to recoil from a massive electric shock.

"O-o-okay," he stated as he trembled and jerked, "our vi-vi-villain's g-got the place lock-lock-locked down. Prob-probably the only way-way-way to override-ride is from his master ter-terminal." He shook his head, regaining his senses. "Until then, I have a well-thought-out backup plan."

Said backup plan was to retrieve a hammer attachment from his insides and use it to beat the terminal to a warped pile of shrapnel.

"Heheheh…" XR chuckled, retracting the hammer as the lasers all went offline. "Finally, FINALLY I get to use it!"

"What happened to not 'harming an innocent piece of technology'?" Ven asked.

"It was complicit," XR stated. "Aiding and abetting. I know the by-laws."

"I OFFICIALLY DECLARE THAT THE COAST IS CLEAR!" Papyrus called out, forging ahead down the now-safe belt as Celia and Mike followed.

Watching his targets leave the conveyor belt area, Randall punched the intercom; "Yeah, well, that was just a warm-up! The real fun's just starting!"

"You're letting them get to you, aren't you?" Discord accused.

"I AM NOT!" Randall yelled. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I can't call this a day until these jerks are dead meat!"

"He's been gotten," Snatcher declared.

"Which really means he's one of us more than anything," Mim added.

"I never said it was a BAD thing!" Discord shrugged.

"Let's divert some of the power to the plumbing," Randall muttered. "In fact…why not divert SEVENTY PERCENT of the power to the plumbing? Eh? How do you like THEM apples?"

After a short elevator ride upward, the hapless heroes found themselves in a large room where the doors slammed shut on all sides. A pipe, overburdened by Randall's meddling, burst, raining water down from above.

"Oh, no!" Sora cried.

"We're gonna drown!" Mike cried.

"No, you guys are going to drown," XR stated. "I'll be just fine, thank you very much. Not great for you, though. My condolences." A pause. "Is now a bad time to make a joke about how much Mike looks like a beach ball anyway or – "

"YES!" everyone else yelled.

"If you can't stand the water," Randall's voice came from overhead, "then get out of the shower."

After a moment of confusion, Mike yelled, "WHAT did he just say?"

Randall froze at the terminal. He could hear the giggles mounting behind him. "Yeah, yeah," he grumbled, "I know what I said! I wasn't expecting to do this much improv!"

"I got THAT one on tape, too!" Discord chuckled.

"Ooh, ooh, send it to me!" Mim cried, bouncing up and down.

"Not now!" Snatcher hushed, swiping a webbed hand at them both. "The nuisances are about to drown!"

The chamber was filling with water fast.

"Okay," Aang muttered, "this is water. I know what to do with water. But what do I do with what I do with water? You think I can just…send it back where it came from?"

"That would just increase the pressure on the pipes," Celia informed him, "and more of them would burst!"

"So you're saying the water pressure can get so high, it can break down metal?" Zuko asked.

"That's right!" Aang realized. "The doors are metal! Maybe I've finally mastered metalbending by now!"

"YOU CAN BEND METAL?" Papyrus asked in awe.

"Well…not yet," Aang admitted. "But this is an emergency! I gotta try, or else we're all dead!"

"Except me," XR reminded them all, beginning to bob on the water's surface, treads lifted off the floor. "Just saying."

Aang threw several punches in the direction of the exit door, hoping to unblock the way, but to no avail; only the faintest of dents appeared.

"I can do this," Aang muttered. "I HAVE to do this, or else – "

"Maybe there's another way," Zuko told him, placing a hand on his upper arm as Aang stretched it for another round. "Aang, Celia said the water could build up so much pressure that the pipes would burst. If you use a water battering ram against that door, you won't need to metalbend it."

Aang's eyes widened; "OF COURSE!"

He withdrew the water from around them all, building it up into a massive tidal wave that careened toward the door, then slammed hard into the metal paneling.

"Wait," Randall said over the intercom. "What are you doing?"

Aang built up a second massive wave: another crash.

"STOP THAT!" Randall barked.

Aang didn't stop. The third wave busted the door apart entirely; the water drained out and the captives followed.

"WHY WON'T YOU JUST FAIL ALREADY?" Randall pounded his fists on the terminal.

"Oh, but I was hoping they'd escape," Mim pointed out.

"WHY?" Randall yelled at her. "WHY WOULD WE WANT THAT?"

"Because." Mim's face split into a vicious smile. "The trap you had planned NEXT is going to be so much more fun to watch kill them slowly and painfully."

"…You have problems," Randall told her.

"Thank you!" Mim replied in earnest.

And Randall smiled right back. He then turned back to the control panel, muttering to himself, "Light 'em up."

A heavy metal door slammed shut behind the hapless heroes. Metal fencing that lined the walls crackled to life with electricity; instinctively, they all backed away from the edges of the cage of death they'd just entered.

"Start sizzling, boys," Randall chuckled.

"WHAT NOW?" Papyrus asked.

"It's lightning!" Aang realized. "I know how to handle this one, too!"

"Me too." Zuko nodded toward Aang with a smile. "Dance with me?"

"Always!"

Aang and Zuko reached out toward the electric walls, calling the crackling lightning to them, flowing their bodies like water to redirect it and concentrate it on the panel that seemed to be the doorway out.

"So these two have some spark in 'em," Randall remarked. "Wonder if that trick'll still work when I turn up the juice."

The lightning was now practically spitting off the walls: far too much to draw away, and the shock radius becoming closer.

"We're gonna get fried!" Sora cried.

"Not yet!" Ven told him. "Remember Thunderbolt? If we use that, we can become invincible to the electricity!"

"Uggghhh, I'm not good at Thunderbolt yet!" Sora groaned.

"Then maybe you shouldn't have cut class to go on a huge date!" Ven teased. "Don't worry. I'll handle this myself."

"Hey, I can do it!" Sora argued. "Just watch!"

Once, twice, thrice they cast Thundaga on the exit door, trying to loosen it up still more, then transitioned in a flash of light to each bear a glowing yellow aura of crackling lightning bolts on his very skin.

"Yessss!" Sora pumped his fist. "Got it in one!"

"Let's go!" Ven cried.

Both boys charged the door, and with a massive swing of their Keyblades and a wordless cry, they tore the exit door down, opening the escape route for the others. All without so much as a single shock from the lightning.

"Aang!" Sora called back as he raced ahead, his electric aura fading. "Zuko! Try and divert it away from the door so everyone can leave!"

Keeping a small patch clear was easier than trying to do anything else; Aang and Zuko stood to either side, rapidly drawing electricity away to create a dead zone that Mike and Celia rushed through.

Papyrus simply watched after Ven, slack-jawed. "THAT…WAS SO COOL…"

"Oh, you are just confirming ALL my theories," XR stated with a shake of his head before taking off to head through the door.

Papyrus bolted, and once everyone else was out, Aang and Zuko dashed through the door, relinquishing their bending, and the cage filled with electricity once more, harming absolutely no one.

By this time, Randall was beating his forehead on the control panel over and over again.

"Might I remind you we wished at least ONE of them to survive the journey here?" Snatcher offered.

"One MAXIMUM," Randall corrected. "Guys, the next phase is more lasers! They already worked around my lasers!"

"Quitting already?" Discord scoffed.

"NO!" Randall yelled, snapping bolt upright, his colors turning a shade more vibrant. "I don't care how easily they'll shake off my lasers. I'll keep trying until either they croak or I do of a heart attack!"

"Now, that's the spirit," Discord told him. "In that case, if I may make a suggestion, last time, you let the AI take control."

"Yeah?" Randall replied. "Oh, so you think I should go for it manually! Sure. Lemme just fire up my hundred simultaneous arms to control every laser on the belt!"

"Well, you really only have to do four with those arms of yours," Discord informed him. "As for the rest…"

Snap. Old-fashioned arcade joysticks appeared in the hands of Discord, Snatcher, and Mim.

"We'll offer an assist," Discord stated.

Sora cried out and reeled when he came upon the next conveyor belt, its lasers moving much more deliberately. Already, several of them were turning directly toward him, as though seeking his aura.

"Not THIS again!" Mike sighed.

"The control panel's upstairs," Celia stated. "If we want to shut it off, we have to go through it."

"Why are they acting so different?" Sora asked.

"My guess is you offended them last time with that 'aiding and abetting' comment," XR volunteered, "and they hold a grudge."

"That was you," Ven reminded him.

"So?" XR shot back. "I'm still batting a thousand compared to Sokka."

"ARE THEY SEEKING OUR HEAT?" Papyrus asked. "THIS TIME, I COULD GO! AFTER ALL, I GIVE OFF NO HEAT, FOR I HAVE NO FLESH! WELL, EXCEPT THE EYEBALLS, BUT THAT'S A VERY TINY AMOUNT OF HEAT."

"No." Celia shook her head. "The Monsters, Inc. automatons don't work like that. The only thing I can think of to make them act this way is if Randall is controlling them manually."

"The guy's only got four arms!" Mike reminded her. "That is at LEAST seven lasers going haywire!"

"I know," Celia muttered. "I'm concerned about those 'friends' of his. We have to assume they're able to see us and anticipate where we're going."

"Knock out the security cam first?" XR suggested.

"That's in range of the automaton lasers," Celia informed him. "You couldn't get there without being hit."

"I wanna try something," Ven muttered. "Let's see…HYEAH!"

He launched his Keyblade at the nearest laser. It bounced off harmlessly before returning to his hand.

"No good," he muttered. "The only way to get around these is to block them. Enchanted Step will let me do that, but not for long enough. Only about half." He looked to where the conveyor belt turned a bend. "Assuming that stops at some point."

"Couldn't you guys do some of your element magic to help the guy out?" XR asked Aang and Zuko.

"IT'S NOT MAGIC!" Zuko cried, waving his arms angrily.

"Besides," Aang said somberly, "we still can't bend this light. Only fire, water, earth, and air."

"THEN WHAT WAS THAT BACK THERE WITH THE ELECTRICITY?" XR cried.

"Lightning is a form of fire," Aang explained. "Just like metal is a form of earth, even if I don't have that one down yet. Water can manifest as clouds, as ice, or even as blood."

"COULD WE NOT GIVE VEN AN ICE SHIELD FOR THE FIRST LEG OF THE JOURNEY?" Papyrus wondered. "THEN HIS 'ENCHANTED STEP' SHOULD TAKE CARE OF THE REST!"

"I can't just make ice," Aang explained. "I have to get the water from somewhere."

"Oh!" Sora realized. "I just learned basic water spells from Yen Sid! I can get the water for you, and you can shape it how you want it and freeze it! I'd just use Blizzard, but that's not very…shapeable."

"That could work!" Aang broke into a grin.

"And if the belt goes on longer around the bend?" Zuko asked. "What then?"

"Then I do my best," Ven said somberly.

"Everybody," Sora declared, "stand back!"

Pointing the Keyblade at the belt, he yelled out, "WATER!"

The flow that burst from his blade was quickly taken ahold of by Aang, who created a set of walls out of them, keeping the lasers stymied for a while trying to melt through up to where the belt made the turn.

With a wordless cry, Ven leapt onto the belt, racing around the corner. Once he'd left the safety of the ice, he put up his barrier, deflecting the lasers that honed in on him.

"You chumps ever wonder what microwaved popcorn feels like?" Randall taunted.

"POPCORN!" Mim cried. "How didn't we think of that earlier?"

Discord passed out bowls; he and Mim each handled their lasers with one hand while digging into the fluffy white popcorn with the other.

"Is this – " Snatcher began.

"Olive oiled," Discord stated. "No butter. I remembered. What do you take me for?"

Satisfied, Snatcher took a handful for himself.

Ven stepped off the end of the belt, sighing with relief as his enchantment failed, leaving him exposed. "Okay," he muttered. "Now to find the – NO!"

Another belt stood in his way, the lasers being commandeered as he watched. This one on a steep incline but moving toward him, meaning he'd have to go against the flow uphill.

"Guess what, loser?" Randall informed him. "I decided to RAMP things up a little. This next one's a real whopper."

"Okay, Ven," Ven muttered. "What would the Master want you to do here?"

Probably not have tried this in the first place, since he was so inexperienced. What had he expected, really? He hadn't even made Mastery. He hadn't been able to save anyone in the end, not the way Sora had. What made him think he could possibly achieve anything?

But as he wondered this, the answer came to him. Certainly Master Eraqus would doubt his skills. But Aqua would be proud of him for trying, even if she would fear for him, probably so much that she would run alongside him straight into danger. Terra would admire his guts. And he knew if Papyrus were with him now, the skeleton would reiterate just how much he believed Ven could do anything.

"They can see me," he realized, summoning enough magic for one last blow. "Well, NOT ANYMORE!"

And with a cast of Vanish, he became invisible.

"WHAT?" Randall cried. "THAT'S MY SCHTICK!"

"No," Mim corrected, "yours is camouflage. He went flat-out invisible. Don't you know a Vanish when you see it?"

"He's still on the board!" Discord cried. "Just fire at Will! …Or whatever his name is."

The lasers went wild, searching for Ven. He could feel his energy running out. But the end of the belt loomed ahead.

Not close enough. The Vanish dissipated, leaving Ven visible and vulnerable. His only chance was a mad dash to the chamber ahead, hopefully able to keep an eye on all hostile lasers.

"Gotcha, kid," Randall muttered.

A single laser charged up, aimed directly at his back.

Ven turned. Gasped.

The laser fired.

It missed entirely.

Taking advantage of the window, Ven dodge-rolled to the side, landing off the belt and in the area where the control panel was located. He let out a long breath, hand over his racing heart.

"HOW COULD YOU MISS THAT SHOT?" Snatcher roared.

"BECAUSE THAT HAPPENED TO BE ONE OF THE LASERS IN MY NON-DOMINANT HANDS!" Randall yelled back. "Oh, sure, FOUR AT ONCE, that's a great idea!"

"YOU DID NOT SAY A WORD AGAINST IT WHEN WE SUGGESTED IT!"

Ven smashed the terminal all at once, bringing down that block of lasers, and the others hurried to catch up.

"I KNEW IT!" Papyrus cried as he approached. "I WAS SAYING THE WHOLE TIME, 'YOU KNOW, I'M GLAD IT'S VEN WHO'S TAKING CARE OF THIS. I REALLY BELIEVE IN HIM!'"

"Stop." Ven grinned. "You don't have to flatter me."

"Oh, yeah?" XR replied. "Shall we go to the tapes?"

He played back a recording of Papyrus' voice saying, "YOU KNOW, I'M GLAD IT'S VEN WHO'S TAKING CARE OF THIS. I REALLY BELIEVE IN HIM!"

Ven's cheeks tinted pink. "Thanks. I thought I was a goner at the end there."

"You SO have to teach me how to do those moves!" Sora cried.

Over the intercom, Randall sighed; "All right, I'll give you that one. But no more freebies."

"I don't think he'll have the chance to spring any more traps." Celia pointed to a nearby hall. "The control room is just through there."

The team burst into the room to see Discord, Mim, Snatcher (who was hastily kicking a popcorn bowl out of sight), and Randall awaiting them.

"About time, losers," Randall muttered.

"Wait a minute!" Sora cried, looking to his fellows. "Is that…Mim?"

"Ohoho, clever boy!" Mim clapped her hands.

"And you!" Sora gasped, pointing to Discord. "You're that one guy from the Etherium!"

"I'm sure I don't know what you're talking about," Discord said as he affixed a small false mustache to his snout.

"Then you must be…" Sora narrowed his eyes at the other in the room. "Wait. Don't tell me. It was the name that sounded like a joke."

"I am BEYOND through with you," Snatcher growled. "Mr. Boggs, kindly – no, UNkindly put this child out of my misery!"

"Randall." Mike scowled at his old enemy. "Never thought I'd see your ugly face around here."

"You're sure one to talk, One-Eye," Randall scoffed, folding both sets of arms. "It just had to be you, didn't it?"

"You leave my Mikey-Wikey alone!" Celia threatened.

"Or what?" Randall replied. "You're gonna murder-wurder me? Sheesh, to think YOU'RE the type of bimbo he went for."

"HEY NOW!" Mike snapped. "You do NOT get to call my Schmoopsie-poo that!"

"Schmoopsie-poo?" Randall chortled. "Oh, how the mighty have fallen. But we crossed that bridge a long time ago when you had your strongman pitch your old friend into exile, didn't we?"

"Wait," Sora realized. "You two were friends?"

"Look," Mike sighed. "He broke it off to join this upper-class fraternity, and Sulley was there for me in the aftermath. Things got awkward, we didn't talk, then all of a sudden he's going psycho on the entire factory and kidnapping children and I don't even know WHERE that came from!"

"Waternoose offered me what I deserved!" Randall spat, unfolding his arms to clench his hands into fists. "I graduated summa cum laude with ROR on my record! And all of a sudden, I'm being beaten to the prestige I worked my whole life for by A PAIR OF FIRST-YEAR DROPOUTS WHO WERE TOO INCOMPTETENT TO FUNCTION?"

"Now, where, oh, where have I heard THAT before?" Discord mused, very obviously flicking his gaze to and away from Snatcher.

"So I had to kiss up to the man a little," Randall went on. "Not how I planned it, but hey, when life hands you lemons, you better pound them into a pulp!"

"That's not what you do with lemons," Mike said flatly.

"Waternoose was my route to the top back then," Randall growled. "But I'm done bootlicking for the bigwigs. Turns out there are people out there who actually get it."

"Really, SOMEONE has to tell me why this sounds so FAMILIAR," Discord mused.

"And I'm not letting some ex-friend who COULDN'T KEEP UP WITH ME get in my way!" Randall concluded.

"MR. BOGGS!" Snatcher yelled. "DOUSE ONE OF THEM BEFORE MR. DISCORD CAN TAUNT ME WITH ANY MORE IRONY!"

Randall stretched out a hand; Mim placed the DSTP into it from behind. "Eenie, meenie, miney…" He pointed the bottle at each of them. Then uncorking the bottle: "MIKE."

As Randall moved to slosh the bottle toward Mike, Mike let out a long, loud scream.

And was suddenly tackled out of the way, the DSTP splashing onto his rescuer: one lightning-quick Ventus.

"WHAT?" Randall cried.

"I mean, this works, too," Mim said with a shrug.

The potion dribbled into Ven's mouth, his eyes, his ears. And as it took its hold, the young Keybearer dropped to his knees, clutching at his head, tearing his hair.

For a moment, he wasn't even in Monstropolis anymore, but back in the Keyblade Graveyard, surrounded by Neo-Shadows.

Against his will, he screamed, "PLEASE, DON'T DO THIS, MASTER! I'M NOT STRONG ENOUGH!"

And all at once, it came rushing like a river of memories, hitting him again and again with new scenes, new words, old pain:

"Empty creature from Ventus riven, to you, the name 'Vanitas' shall be given."

"Where are you from? Who was that man with you? You good with a Keyblade?"

"WHAT DID YOU DO?"

"You are never to leave these grounds without my express permission, Ventus. Do you understand me?"

"I told you no. The answer remains the same."

"You do not have what it takes!"

"And by the time you catch up, he'll be a different person."

"TERRA!"

"Terra would never do that!"

"Ven-Ven! Carefee Roosafee!"

"Why, yes. In fact, it was he who stole Princess Aurora's heart."

"The Terra you know will be gone forever."

"Is that what he said to do? The Master's orders?"
"JUST STAY PUT! I'm on my own now, all right?"

"No, Ven. Do as I say and go home."

"Must be nice, knowin' who your friends are."

"There's monsters loose in town, and if they gatecrash the Games, you can forget about the match!"

"So YOU'RE the intruder! Identify yourself!"

"A shooting star and a pixie! Must be me birthday."

"Reclaim the part that left you! Clash with him! Pure Light against pure Darkness, to forge the ultimate key!"

"Eraqus knows it, too. He knows exactly what you are."

"Haven't you ever wondered why he never granted you permission to leave his side, to grow stronger? Eraqus was frightened of you."

"He never trusted you. Why else would he keep you within his sight at all times?"

"I knew it. Xehanort. He could never let it go."

"But I will not fail again."

"I am left with no choice. Forgive me, but you must exist no more."

"MASTER, HAVE YOU GONE MAD?"

"If you don't have it in your heart to obey…then you will have to share Ventus's fate!"

"Enough! Terra! He's right!"

"You'll go astray again. Tell me, how does that honor our Master's memory, Terra?"

"I'm asking you as a friend. Just…put an end to me."

"And it will soon belong to me: x-blade!"

"As if. You're only here so that when I finish you off, Terra will succumb to the Darkness."

"Well, he wanted me to buy time, and I'd say he got it."

"They are what I feel: a horde of fledgling emotions under my control."

"You never stood a chance against us, Ventus."

"Join me now, and we can complete the x-blade!"

"The x-blade is made of your heart too, idiot. If you destroy it, your heart will vanish forever!"

"AaaaaAAAAAAAA – "

Reality fuzzed its way back into Ven's vision. The colors of the control room, the whirring of the industrial fans, the snickering of the lizardlike monster, the hands swathed in soft mittens that held his shoulders as a familiar voice called out, "VEN? VEN! VEN, SAY SOMETHING! SOMETHING THAT ACTUALLY BODES WELL!"

"Pa…py…rus…?" Ven groaned.

"VEN!" Papyrus cried once more. "WHAT HAPPENED TO YOU?"

"Every…horrible memory I've ever had…" Ven grunted. "I saw it all…I…I feel empty, Papyrus…"

Everywhere he went: new threats to loom over him, to frighten him for his sake, for that of his friends. Two masters: one who'd given him up and another who, for good reason, had tried to kill him. And Terra, so much of it was about Terra, who he still didn't have, who he still couldn't find, who he just had to face he would never see again.

Why should he? He'd never done anything right. He was supposed to have ended and taken the x-blade with him. He was simply supposed to have ended.

What better way to honor Eraqus' memory than to finish what he started, after all?

"Empty, huh?" Randall posed. "Sure it's not more like…soul-crushing despair? So much that you don't even know why you bother anymore? Nothin' could make you smile anymore, could it?"

"I…" Ven's eyes welled up with tears. "I lost Terra…and I was supposed to die, that was all I could do, and I couldn't even do that right…I shouldn't even exist…why should I, when everything's so dangerous and the real world is so horrible?"

He was shaking, through and through. His trembling body was then swept into a close, enveloping grip, Papyrus' arms pulling him nearer and tighter.

"I TOLD YOU NEVER TO SAY THOSE THINGS AGAIN!" Papyrus scolded, voice cracking. "OF COURSE YOU SHOULD EXIST, BECAUSE TERRA STILL NEEDS YOU TO FIND HIM, AND AQUA NEEDS YOU TO BE HER ANNOYING LITTLE BROTHER, AND I NEED YOU TO BE MY FRIEND! AND, YES, THE REAL WORLD IS HORRIBLE. I CAN'T EVEN GO BACK HOME BECAUSE IT'S SO FULL OF HORRIBLE PEOPLE HURTING MY FRIENDS, AND THEY'D HURT ME, TOO! BUT HAVING A REAL FRIEND LIKE YOU HELPS ME REMEMBER THE GOOD THINGS ABOUT ALL OF IT…AND IF THE WORLD TRIES TO SCARE YOU, THEN I'LL FIGHT THE ENTIRE WORLD TO PROTECT YOU! I'LL DO IT! I WAS A ROYAL GUARD IN TRAINING, YOU KNOW! MY SKILLS ARE VERY HONED! BUT PLEASE…PLEASE, DON'T LEAVE US NOW…"

The soft rattling of bones. Ven wasn't the only one trembling.

"I do believe the child is broken," Snatcher declared.

"Which works out so well for us!" Mim chirped.

"You…" Sora gritted his teeth, summoning his Keyblade to hand. "I HATE YOU!"

"We'll stop anything you throw at us!" Mike waved toward himself. "C'mon, hit me with your best shot!"

"Maybe you will," Randall taunted. "Or, then again, maybe you won't. See, now that your little friend is out of order, my new creation is ready to hit alpha testing."

He fired a look over his shoulder at the scrap metal; "I command you to DESTROY THEM!"

And nothing happened.

"Uh…was that supposed to do something?" Aang asked.

"Eh?" Randall flitted closer to the machine he and Snatcher had cobbled together. He snapped his fingers, hoping to bring it to life. "Heyyyy. Come on!"

Still nothing.

Randall skittered on all eights toward the device, leaping atop it to pound at its metal; "Move…move, you stupid - !" When no response came, he leapt off it, giving it a hard kick; "WHAT A PILE OF JUNK!"

He then pointed at Snatcher with two hands giving accusatory fingers; "This is YOUR fault!"

"I daresay NOT!" Snatcher retorted. "It's a flaw in your construction, not my handiwork!"

"Boys?" Mim realized. "I think the problem is there's NO UNVERSED."

"So there isn't!" Discord realized. He shot a glance over to Ven; "But we threw him into despair! It worked even better than it would have on Mike Wazowski!"

"Unversed?" Ven looked up to Mim. "UNVERSED? THAT'S WHAT ALL THIS WAS ABOUT? YOU WERE TRYING TO GET ME TO SPIT OUT UNVERSED?"

"YES," Snatcher told him. "Don't phrase it as though you're trying to guilt us. Can't feel guilt about it."

"I don't HAVE Unversed to give you," Ven seethed through his tears. "Xehanort tore all the Darkness out of me ten years ago to make Vanitas! Any emotion I have is mine, not yours and not anyone else's!"

"So you're telling me," Randall realized, "that out of all the people in all the worlds you mentioned, we managed to hit THE ONE WHO WE COULDN'T JUICE AN UNVERSED OUT OF?"

"Oh, well." Mim shrugged. "Time to kill them all the old-fashioned way!"

"Aw, don't feel bad!" Aang teased. "Everyone makes mistakes, even the bad guys!"

Before any of the villains could respond, Sora pushed ahead of Aang, shoving the Avatar back with a rough hand.

"Don't feel bad?" Sora growled. "DON'T FEEL BAD? Don't you GET IT? They just made Vanitas want to END himself! They're not just killers or conquerors. That was LOWER than low!"

"Uh, Sora?" XR pointed to the small wisps of Darkness floating up off the brunette Keybearer. "I'm no doctor, but you miiiiiiight wanna get that checked out."

"If I hadn't sworn to one of the people IN THIS ROOM that I wouldn't destroy you," Sora went on –

His voice suddenly plunged into an unnaturally deeper pitch. "You'd be gone. Simple as that." An uncharacteristic smirk.

No one noticed his shadow lengthening, reaching out to touch the scrap metal, infusing the skeleton so that the glass pane up front blazed bright with a symbol of intertwined lines. A thick black ooze began to seep out of the iron skeleton.

"You went and made me angry, after all," Sora went on, his voice still sounding nothing like himself. "But the worst part? Ventus isn't even yours to mess with. HE'S MINE."

When Sora broke into raucous laughter, his allies recoiled, afraid of what was taking place before them.

"Uh, Sora?" Mike ventured. "You okay there, buddy?"

"GET BACK!" Zuko warned, stepping out front of the others. "Something's going wrong!"

"Oh, I think something's going right." Sora's eyes flashed bright golden yellow.

The black blob rose higher and higher, a mass of viscous tar, behind Randall, Mim, Discord, and Snatcher. It absorbed several laugh canisters along the way, adding to its mass. Two winglike appendages jutted out from its sides.

When it let out a roar, revealing an inferno-red mouth, the four WHAM ARMY delegates whirled around.

"AHA!" Mim crowed, beginning to leap about in joy. "IT'S WORKING! IT'S WORKING! OH, I LOVE IT!"

"Is it?" Sora jeered.

"Oh, this is exactly what I need to take over the company," Randall said smoothly. "But first, I am getting rid of you."

He snapped his fingers, pointing toward the heroes behind him; "SIC 'EM!"

But the immense Unversed had eyes only for the four monsters directly in front of it.

"WELL?" Randall cried. "WHAT ARE YOU WAITING FOR?"

"Er…Mr. Boggs…" Snatcher reached out to lightly tap Randall's forearm. "I don't much like the way it's looking at us."

"Oh dear," Discord said with an expression of utter panic.

"Fiddlesticks," Mim muttered.

The Unversed raised high as a tidal wave, then began to crash down upon the quartet, who instinctively grabbed onto each other in fear. At the very last minute, Discord popped them all out of the control room, and the black tar rained onto empty floor.

"Oh, what a shame," Sora taunted. "And here I was looking forward to – WHAT?"

He shook his head. Blinked his eyes, which were blue once more. "No…" he muttered. "No, no, no, what did I DO?"

"What WAS that?" Zuko yelled at him.

"I don't know!" Sora said in a panic. "It was like…that wasn't me! Like somebody else just took over!"

The same person who had spoken to Axel in Flash Black? No. That person would never have been so gleefully malicious, and this one would never have been so sentimental.

The Unversed re-solidified, assessed its position, decided on a new target. Its master seemed to no longer want it, meaning it had no reason to obey said master or protect any of his friends. But it was here, and it wanted blood.

"LOOK OUT!" Zuko cried as he dragged Sora away from the Unversed; a great inky tendril had pulsated forth along the floor, reaching up in the form of a crude hand to swipe at Sora.

"Okay, gang!" XR said as Zuko and Sora rejoined the group, which had, en masse, fallen back – Papyrus still clutching onto Ven for dear life. "What's the strategy? Aang? Zuko? Can't you just water that thing away?"

"It isn't water!" Aang argued. "It's something else! Like…energy." He gaped. "But I can bend energy, too…"

The Unversed yawned, belching a sphere of fire at them all.

"But THAT is definitely fire!" Zuko yelled, throwing himself forward to punch into the midst, separating the flames to curl around his allies rather than burning them.

"Okay, then!" XR stated. "I say we play to our strengths. Wazowski goes first!"

And then, without warning, he blasted up a couple feet off the ground, seizing Mike by the forearms and spinning him in a circle.

"HEY!" Mike yelled. "What are you do – noooooo NONONONONONO WHY MEEEEEE?"

XR launched him like a bowling ball, and he went careening around the room, pinballing off every surface. He rolled against the Unversed several times, putting temporary dents in its slimy body and generally diverting its attention.

"Ehehehehehhhhh…" XR found himself giving a sheepish smile to a very angry Celia. "Kinda glad those snakes don't come with the Medusa petrification package."

"HIT IT WITH EVERYTHING WE'VE GOT!" Sora cried, and they all leapt into action.

Zuko generated a blast of fire, and Aang bolstered it with a cyclone of wind, making a twister of fire toward the Unversed. Ven aimed for a Shotlock with shaking hands, executing a Pulse Bomb of dark orbs that ricocheted around the room and occasionally crossed paths with Mike.

This served to just make the Unversed angrier. Though at first, it didn't seem that way. It flopped the floor, spreading itself thin.

"Great job, team!" XR congratulated. "Now, who's for takeout?"

The Unversed continued to spread: beneath their feet, up the walls. The whole room darkened. And suddenly, in a great burst, there was the central Unversed, much thinner with larger wings, and a crowd of smaller, slimmer offshoots with their own yawning red mouths surrounding the group and shooting fireballs.

"Oh, great JOB, team," XR said sarcastically. "I was gonna pay up for the food, but after THAT performance, I say you owe me!"

"YOU CAN'T EAT FOOD!" Papyrus reminded him.

"HIT IT HARDER!" Sora yelled, and they split, each trying to take down a different head. Ven committed a Spark Raid, Papyrus had summoned two immense animalistic skulls to blast the inky beast with orange rays, Zuko was trying to boil it from the inside out, XR had summoned all thirteen guns, Mike had given up and thrown himself into a somersault to resume rolling at destructive speeds, and Celia courageously threw a very determined punch at the tarry Unversed.

Toward the head in the center, Aang and Sora rushed in unison. They drew back arms together, reached out, summoned fire.

Aang's was a concentrated stream that blasted right through the Unversed without leaving so much as a mark. But Sora kept swinging, launching a Flame Salvo, not entirely focusing on where he was aiming.

Most of it did hit the Unversed. And the Unversed simply grew fatter off it.

That was when Aang realized.

"WAIT!" He put a hand on Sora's Keyblade. "Stop attacking it!"

"WHY?" Sora yelled. "WHY SHOULDN'T I? IT'S TRYING TO FINISH WHAT THE WHAM ARMY STARTED!"

"LOOK OUT!"

To avoid a new splash of tarry ink, Aang tackle-rolled Sora off to the side of the field, near the control terminal that was now splattered with dark goo. "Sora," Aang said urgently, "you have to listen. This thing showed up when you got that angry, and now it's just eating more and more of your anger to get more powerful!"

"Am I just NOT SUPPOSED TO BE ANGRY?" Sora growled, more Darkness radiating from him in wisps. "They made Ven want to END HIMSELF! They were ready to do that to Mike, or to any of us!"

"They're not good people!" Aang agreed. "But anger doesn't solve the problem! And sometimes, you have to figure out when to let a grudge go!"

"Or what?" Sora asked. "I'll hurt everyone else?"

"Um…I was kinda trying to avoid that, but…yeah."

"Aang…" Sora's eyes began to water. "I already can't protect them. Every time I try, something like this happens…I just feel so…"

"Feel like what?"

"Useless," Sora whispered. "I know I'm not, but they make me feel useless. Mozenrath and Maleficent and Xehanort. I try so hard, but I can't stop my friends from getting hurt!"

"Ven's still alive now," Aang reminded him. "You can be there for him when this is over! But we gotta get rid of that thing!"

"I can't just stop being mad!" Sora reiterated. "But I just wanna FIX this so everything will be okay!"

"Well…" Aang reached down to the metal floor, willing his hardest. Please, please, just once in his life, let him metalbend.

The scrap came away in his hand in roughly the shape he'd wanted: a stick with two forklike tongs.

"What's that?" Sora asked.

"I mean, if you wanna fix things," Aang told him, "you should have a wrench."

And he passed over the crude tool.

Sora looked at the "wrench" in his hand for a moment. Whatever he'd been expecting, it wasn't that. Without even thinking, he let out a snort.

The Unversed rippled, taking a hit.

"Not that I was eavesdropping or anything," XR said as he flew in for a landing besides both boys, "but I just so happened to accidentally hear everything from all the way across the room. Sound carries."

"You were listening on purpose!" Sora accused.

"And a good thing I was," XR told him, "because you can't just fix all your problems with a wrench! That's stupid!"

Sora's face fell. "Yeah – "

"What you need…" XR grinned, bringing out the enormous mallet from within his chest cavity again. "Is a HAMMER!"

Sora began to laugh, honestly laugh, and the tendrils collapsed from the walls, congealing into a tarry mass in the center of the room.

"It's working!" Aang cried. Then he gasped; "Wait, this is Mike's job! He does this for a living! HEY, MIKE!"

"Yeah?" Mike called over. "Kinda busy here!"

"We need Sora to laugh!" Aang told him. "It's stopping the monster! Right now, we're suggesting silly tools for him to fix big emotional problems!"

"Well, what're we trying to fix?" Mike asked.

"A broken heart," Sora volunteered.

"Oh, no worries!" Mike rushed to rummage in a tool box at the side of the control room. "See, this is a situation that calls for…" He held up a sticky roll triumphantly, peeling a yard from it. "DUCT TAPE! TA-DAAAAA!"

That would've been funny enough on his own, except he also lost his balance while unrolling the tape and managed to somersault into an ever-growing knot of silvery duct tape.

Sora collapsed to his knees, pounding the ground. And the Unversed simply dried up as if it had never been, the metallic skeleton clattering to the floor.

"You guys…" Sora was crying once more, but a completely different sort of tear.

"Sora?" Celia approached him gently. "Are you feeling any better?"

"Yeah." Sora beamed up at her. "I am."

"THIS IS WHY WE NEED TO STICK TOGETHER!" Papyrus asserted. "I KNOW YOU THINK YOU CAN SAVE THE WORLDS ON YOUR OWN, SORA, BUT EVEN YOU CAN'T CARRY ALL THAT BAGGAGE ALONE! WE'LL BE THERE TO HELP YOU SMILE!"

"Thanks, guys," Sora said with an earnest smile. "You have no idea how much that means to me."

Really, that was how his friends were his power. It had been that way all along. Donald and Goofy, with their constant effervescence. Kairi, with her support and belief. Riku, with his devotion, his loyalty, his wit, his love. Anyone and everyone else Sora had ever touched gave him a little more strength. Maybe it was time they take on more of the load he insisted upon shouldering alone so often.

He stood, approaching Ven. "You okay?"

"Yeah." Ven nodded, but then let his face fall. "…No. That brought up some memories I haven't thought about in a long time. That I've been trying not to think about for a reason. I know I just need to stop being sad and move on, but…it doesn't work like that. Not like flipping a switch, nice and neat."

"I think I know what that's like," Sora told him. "That happened with me and my anger. But all I needed was my friends to help me smile. Maybe that can help you, too. Don't be afraid to reach out."

"Heh…" Ven averted his gaze. "I guess."

"Ven?"

Ven looked back up to Sora. "Yeah?"

Sora's head was now hanging, and Ven thought at first Sora had become infected with his misery. But then Sora raised his head suddenly, smiling his widest, crossing his blue eyes, and yelling "EEEEEEEEEEE!"

Ven lost it. First a snort, then a chuckle, then a hand pressed to his mouth.

Aang jumped in beside Sora, pulling an even more drastic funny face, and Ven laughed all the harder.

"Thanks," he managed between giggles. "I needed that."

"VEN." Papyrus settled a hand on his shoulder. "IF YOU NEED SOMEONE…I'LL STAY WITH YOU AS LONG AS YOU NEED."

"I don't wanna take up your time," Ven sighed. "But…maybe just for a while."

"I AM PREPARED!" Papyrus stood up straight, as if at attention. "I WILL COME ARMED TO GIVE YOU THE BEST TIME! WHETHER YOU LIKE IT OR NOT, THERE WILL BE ICE CREAM AND BOARD GAMES!"

"Thanks." Ven smiled. "And…guys…can I ask a favor? Don't tell Aqua what happened to me. What I said. If she gets scared, she won't take it as well as you guys."

"And considering that Sora somehow summoned up a giant monster to try and destroy us all," XR mused, "that's saying something."

"I don't want her and me to both be miserable," Ven went on. "Just…let her believe everything's fine, and eventually, it will be."

"Is that right, though?" Aang asked. "If she doesn't know – "

"Your secret is safe with us," Zuko broke in. "Trust me. Some things, you need to work out on your own."

"Y'know, Zuko has a point," Aang realized, thinking over all his Fire Nation friend had been through.

"Now if you're done," Mike wailed, "can someone PLEASE HELP ME GET OUTTA THIS DUCT TAPE?"

"Hang on!" XR produced a blowtorch. "I got it!"

"NO!" the others yelled at him en masse.

Back in the lounge, Snatcher, Mim, Randall, and Discord reappeared, still clutching each other. They let go and backed off once they realized there was no danger.

"Well, THAT went over like a lead balloon!" Randall growled.

"Oh, well." Mim shrugged. "At least we had fun. We can always kill them again later. And we traumatized a child, which is always a win in my book!"

"Frustrating as the outcome was," Snatcher mused, "it was rather an enjoyable journey. Pity Torchwick had to – "

He bit his lip to silence himself. "No," he amended. "Torchwick made his bed and got his just desserts. No guilt to be had about it."

"Who's Torchwick?" Randall asked.

Snatcher heaved a deep breath. "An associate."

"You know, I'm almost starting to feel…SYMPATHY toward this," Discord realized.

"Stamp that out right now!" Mim ordered. "Nip it in the bud!"

"What," Randall suggested, "relationship drama? Boyfriend gone wrong?"

"More or less," Snatcher replied. "Would rather not speak of it at the moment."

"Besides," Mim stated, "we need to discuss the elephant in the room!"

At which point she transformed into an elephant.

Randall flinched; "You're a SHAPESHIFTER?"

Mim cackled; "Oh, it's so much better than that! Because what you saw was just another of my shifting shapes! The real me looks a little more like THIS!"

And in a pop, she was human once more.

"WHAT THE – " Randall lost his balance, falling backward onto the floor. "YOU WERE A HUMAN THIS WHOLE STINKIN' TIME?"

"And so is he," Mim explained, pointing to Snatcher. "He's just undergoing a little mutation right now that I 'can't fix.'" She put up her fingers to very definitely make air quotes around those last words.

"Wha – " Snatcher did a double take. "I KNEW IT. YOU'RE HOLDING BACK ON ME!"

"Well, I'M certainly not human," Discord stated. Then he smirked; "Or am I?"

"So you guys are all - !" Randall gasped.

"Not from the monster world, yes, yes," Mim filled in. "And we had to lie a little to earn your trust, which might sound counterintuitive, but it worked, didn't it?"

"Hate to say it, but yeah," Randall muttered.

"So?" Mim offered her hand. "What do you say to making this a more permanent arrangement?"

Randall recoiled from the hand.

"Oh, I can GUARANTEE you humans aren't toxic," Mim told him.

"But she can't guarantee you SHE isn't," Snatcher grunted. "Very well might've injected her hand with a toxin just for the irony."

"Oh, you know me SO WELL!" Mim laughed, retracting her hand. "The offer still stands!"

Randall put a hand to his chin. "Permanent arrangement, huh? And your business is just…being bad guys?"

"More or less," Mim stated. "Your position among us could work particularly well in weapons development. You keep working on ways to harness Unversed, and we could have ourselves a well-oiled machine!"

"Okay, fine," Randall relented. "Can't be any worse than being beaten over the brain with a shovel fifty times in a row. You've got a deal."

"And who knows?" Discord posed. "If the mood strikes, we may just come back to put you in the CEO's chair here at Monsters, Inc. after all."

Randall leapt up to his feet; "So. What's next?"

"Why, I suppose we head back to the World of Four Nations and see how Scarlet and Roman's rallies have gone over!" Discord stated. "Stirring up political unrest in the name of vengeance, you know."

"Never tried it." Randall smirked toothily. "Sounds fun."

"Then let's be off," Discord suggested. "We have some CHAOS to wreak!"

...

At the coldest pole of the planet, the CEO was stripped of all title, of all dignity, of any sort of protective wear against this harsh weather. The wind blew hard against his skin. He was well aware he was a slave to fashion, and it hadn't bothered him to date, but his current ensemble was too thin in fabric, colorful as it was, and the way he'd shaved his head in accordance with trends also meant a good bit of it was exposed.

He futilely reached up to grip his upper arms, rubbing as much warmth into them as he could manage. Why did it have to be Antarctica? He hadn't set the teleporter for Antarctica. A glitch, he surmised. Unfortunate, if he survived this, because he'd sold so many similar devices to discerning clients, and they would likely be calling in to complain.

If he survived this? When he survived this. He wasn't about to die because of a broken teleporter and a single time bomb.

(Never you mind that time bombs killed most people, and the broken teleporter was the only reason that hadn't happened to him.)

No reception out here. No communication. Only icebergs floating on a chilled sea. White on white on white with the faintest blue. Didn't sunsets last for longer out here? Of course he hadn't shown up during one of those. He would die – no, be inconvenienced to wait it out among monochrome.

He stumbled forward. It was all he could do. (He was above this. He didn't deserve this. He had enough money to buy this continent three times over.)

To pass the time and try to cheer himself up, he began to sing a song his grandmother had liked to sing to him when he was a youngster. "We'll leave each other cold as ice – " (Why had he jumped to that lyric first?) " – and high and dry, the desert wind is blowin', is blowin'. Remember what you said to me? We were drunk in love in Tennessee and I hold it. We both know it. And nothin', nothin', nothin' gon' save us now." Without even thinking, he altered the pronoun of the reptition: "Nothin', nothin', nothin' gon' save me now."

A pause. "Well, damn," he said to himself. "That's depressin'."

Enough singing for now. He pressed on through the bitter wind for who even knew how long until he was on his knees, shivering violently. (Not like this, NEVER like this, being torn apart from the inside by Mr. Shadow might have been preferable to this for dignity's sake if more painful.)

From above, a voice addressing him: "Well, well, well, Mr. Zorg. You're in quite a pickle."

Behind the speaker, a high, nasal voice with a vaguely European accent; "I would say he is in something more like an ice cube!"

"SHUT IT."

The CEO raised his head to look at the man standing above him, partially obscured by the blowing snow. With his billowing cape and dark curls, he cut an impressive figure indeed.

"Well, shit," the CEO muttered. "Didn't think the angel of death himself would come down for me. Shouldn't be surprised I got the VIP treatment, I guess."

"You're not dead," the dark-haired man stated. "Yet. I say we move somewhere warmer before that changes."

"Can we not spend any extra time on the banter?" That was a distinctly British voice. "I need out of this cold yesterday."

There was a flash of blue, and he was kneeling in the hallway of his own headquarters, the bunch of strangers who'd brought his salvation standing before him and the receptionist desk behind him.

"Mr. Zorg isn't in at present," the blue-haired secretary said. "Can I take a messa – oh, he JUST got back! Mr. Zorg, can you take a phone call?"

He – being Jean-Baptiste Emanuel Zorg, CEO of Zorg Industries, one of the most respected arms dealers for a hundred planets – had been somewhat thrown by the sudden reappearance of familiar surroundings, and it didn't do much to convince him that he was not, in fact, dead. But this was all immediately replaced by a sudden indignance; he rose to his feet, spinning to face the receptionist as he brushed the thick layers of snow off his clothing.

"NO, I can't take a phone call," he drawled. "I'm in the tail end of a near-death experience. Furthermore, I ain't got whatever whoever it is on that phone wants, 'cause I GUARANTEE you it's to deal with those stones I DON'T HAVE. Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm gonna need one tall cappuccino, double the milk, heavy on the cinnamon, whatever you do you KNOW how I feel about cherry so do NOT flavor it that, and make it hot enough to leave third-degree burns." He brushed back his hairpiece in a semblance of making it neat. "I'll be in my office."

He turned on a heel and stormed off.

"He'll have to call you back," the secretary stated.

"Um." The dark-haired savior watched Zorg blow right past him. "Did we forget the part where I SAVED YOUR LIFE? CAN WE TALK ABOUT THAT?"

Zorg spun again, taking a better look at the motley assortment of rescuers. There was the man he'd seen, clothed from head to toe in designs Zorg hadn't seen anywhere but in textbooks about ancient Persia. There was a taller, bulkier man dressed in several layers, the most striking of which was a white fur cape, but all topped off with an enormous horned helmet that looked like the skull of something he'd taken on a hunting trip (and probably was). There was a short, rodentlike extraterrestrial, white and furry and clothed in nothing but a crimson cape (gerbil? Zorg was pretty sure he was a gerbil). There was a young blond man (though the "blond" part looked obviously fake – the roots were a dead giveaway) dressed in sequins and heels, actually reminding Zorg of one of the lead singers of a band he was partial to (the one that sang about questions of time and enjoying the silence). And then something he could only assume was human because it insisted on covering every inch of itself in a green bodysuit and an ostentatious opaque spherical helmet of glass even Zorg wouldn't have gone for if it turned up on a Paris runway.

It was this last creature that shook its…head?...at Zorg; "What a waste of a dramatic rescue. He isn't even grateful!" The voice indicated he was male.

"Right," Zorg stated. "S'pose I owe ya somethin'." He waved to his secretary; "Get a couple gift baskets whipped up for these nice young fellas."

"Gift baskets?" the bleached-blond repeated, brightening. "Chocolate: yes or no?"

"That's variety #5," Zorg explained.

"We aren't taking any GIFT BASKETS!" the dark-haired man insisted.

The blond gave him a pout.

"My assistant demands it," the fishbowl-head thing said.

"Fiiiiine," the dark-haired man groaned. "We'll take the gift baskets AND a moment of your time. We have a business proposition to make."

"I'm afraid Zorg Industries ain't lookin' for mergers at the moment," Zorg stated.

"Because falling out with Mr. Shadow left you basically bereft, or because his defeat means your biggest backer is off the plate?"

Zorg tensed completely. "Now what's a young'un like you know about any'a that? Sordid, sordid stuff. You'd be so much less stressed just not thinkin 'bout it." He waved a hand toward the other end of the hallway; "Go on. Run off now. Ignorance is bliss, and y'ain't gonna find it here. Go on, get."

"I hate ignorance," the dark-haired man growled.

"Y'know what the difference is between ignorance and apathy?" the blond brought up.

"Silence!" the gerbil yelled. "I do not know and I am not caring!"

That caused the blond to double over laughing, stomping his heeled boot on the carpet.

"I'm proud of him," the fishbowl-head thing said.

"Consider me ALREADY in the loop, Mr. Zorg," the dark-haired man went on. "After all, my associates and I came all this way from various other worlds where we each attempted to enact our own little cosmic gambit and more or less found nothing but disappointment. True, a thirdac may look like small potatoes next to Mr. Shadow, but put us together and we were able to take down Amaterasu. You do know the significance of that name, don't you?"

Zorg nodded, slowly, deliberately. "An' how do I know that ain't some leg-pullin' on your part?"

"Allow me!" The gerbil stepped forward. "Surely you recognize the name of one DR. JACQUES VON HAMSTERVIEL!"

A silence. Then Zorg said, "Ain't ringin' any bells."

"Are you being serious, you addled arms dealer?" Hämsterviel shook a fist. "I purchased one rather large shipment of sonic water cannons off your company for my first interplanetary invasion!"

"All I recall was one fella buyin' out a buncha prototypes like a sucker," Zorg recalled. "Silly idea to begin with, but ya gotta throw some things at the wall sometimes, see if they stick. Dunno who leaked, but when I see a buyer, I don't ask questions. Managed to get rid of my whole defective stock an' use the proceeds to fund the EMP tasers that kicked off the Zapz line. That one went to some 'Rupert' fella, though."

"That, er…" Hämsterviel shuffled his feet. "That was…that was definitely me…"

"Rupert?" the fishbowl-head thing repeated. "You mean to tell me your name is Rupert?" He burst into chuckles. "I can see why you chose the stage name."

"An' how'd that invasion go?" Zorg asked.

"HORRIBLY!" Hämsterviel hopped up and down angrily in frustration. "Every last cannon broke down into pieces on the firing line! It is as if they were only…pro…to…types." Realization sank in. "Why, you…SWINDLER!"

"We're not here to start fights," the dark-haired man said. "Can we move this somewhere more private?"

"'Course." Zorg wasn't exactly sure why he was agreeing now. Maybe because he got the impression this group wouldn't leave him alone if he didn't at least hear them out. "Right this way, fellas."

It unnerved him that the skull-helmeted man hadn't said a word yet.

Zorg's office was decorated with glass cases that showed off past creations of his. He kicked back behind an elaborate desk, pressing a button. A small compartment raised up out of the desk, revealing a small extraterrestrial animal Zorg had picked up for a hefty price some years back, bald and doe-eyed with a flicking trunk. It looked at its owner almost in disbelief.

"I know, baby, I know." Zorg reached out to give the animal a stroke of greeting. "Daddy knew he'd be back. Just a little late, is all." He looked up to his guests, behind whom the wall had closed. "I'd offer a seat to ya, but I only got the one. Guess ya gotta fight for it."

"No need." The dark-haired man swished his right hand through the air, showing off the asymmetrical gauntlet, and called up five chairs of proportionate size to fit the group, black and blue in coloration. He then took the front and center seat, crossing one leg over another.

"Now," he said with a smirk. "Let's talk business. My name is Mozenrath. My companions are the Huntsman, Dr…RUPERT Hämsterviel, and Mysterio."

"The GREAT Mysterio," the fishbowl-head thing corrected.

"The great Mysterio," Mozenrath groaned. "Also present is My – the great Mysterio's assistant Drake Stone, who is, for all intents and purposes, not part of this conversation."

"You make those?" Drake asked, pointing to one of the glass cases.

"'Course I did," Zorg grunted. "Y'think I'd decorate my office with things I didn't design and manufacture right here on Planet Earth with what I can assure you are ethically-sourced materials?" He leaned forward. "Speakin' of, that's some fancy tech ya got on that hand a yours, Mr. Rath."

"It's Mozenrath," Mozenrath corrected. "All one word. And it's not tech. It's magic. Allow me to demonstrate."

He snapped his fingers, and Zorg was enveloped in a shimmering green cape of heavy fabric. "For your hypothermia," Mozenrath reminded him.

On cue, there was a knock; Zorg parted the doors to let the secretary inside. She placed the cappuccino on his desk, then left, allowing the chamber to seal again.

"I don't recommend caffeine after that," the Huntsman said.

"I mean, I can't really throw stones," Mozenrath brought up.

Zorg took a long draught of the cappuccino. Set it down so it clinked on a marble coaster. "If yer lookin' to sell me yer magic," he stated, "I ain't in the market. See, my business runs on a very simple little philosophy – "

"That to create life and prosperity, you have to start with chaos and disorder?" Mozenrath filled in. "I can see how magic might look like a shortcut to solving that. But also consider that magic can cause the very problems your technology will solve. For an adoring public, no less…unlike your clients will be once they connect the dots about you and Plavalaguna."

"I had NOTHIN' to do with that one," Zorg argued. "I was just after the little lady with the carrot top."

"You paid off the Mangalores," Mozenrath spelled out. "They killed the galaxy's brightest rising star. How do you think the people who pre-ordered her latest album are going to feel about that? Not to mention that as I said, your company is about to hit rock bottom fast following the untimely demise of your demonic benefactor."

"…So we're goin' through a rough patch," Zorg muttered. "All part of the business. Don't mean I gotta buy your magic – "

"I'm not offering to SELL my magic," Mozenrath corrected. "I'm offering to PURCHASE your expertise. But more importantly, forge an alliance. Your weaponry could bolster the nonmagical side of my current enterprise. I can offer you raw materials and workspace to design whatever you want, which should at least be more high-class than a lava gun. Most importantly, you'll be along like minds. Everyone aboard the warship that currently serves as our headquarters is in the business of chaos and disorder. We're making plenty of messes for you to clean up, Mr. Zorg. And every single one of us has risen from the ashes and is still climbing. You can't tell me you wouldn't like that."

"And this…enterprise," Zorg inquired. "I can't help but wonder as to its exact nature."

"We are the WHAM ARMY." Mozenrath put out his arms. "We want the worlds and more."

"Knew ya said 'currently' like ya didn't mean ta stay there long," Zorg told him. "Lookin' at some new real estate?"
"Just a high-class empire that requires state-of-the-art technology to get under our control. After that, who knows? But advanced as its people are, they haven't seen anything quite like what you can build. You have a creative mind, Mr. Zorg. And we need that in spades."

Zorg took another contemplative sip of his coffee. "Y'know, ya drive a hard bargain," he said, "but I just ain't feelin' it. Ain't the first offer I been made before, and ain't the best offer I been made before. Zorg Industries ain't in DANGER. I got PR, I got a storehouse of fundin', I got everythin' I need that you can't – "

"We can guarantee you protection from Elder Gods, demons, and any such allies of Mr. Shadow that may wish to collect," the Huntsman said flatly.

That shut Zorg right up.

"I do believe we've got him!" Mysterio crowed.

"…I'd like to see your facilities 'fore I make any lastin' decisions," Zorg muttered. "Couldn't hurt to network a li'l bit. After all, most of my clients who're gonna weather the storm are fellas not too different from yourselves. Go-getters. Marchin' to the beats of their own drums. Some might even call 'em 'villains.'"

"I – " Mozenrath stopped midsentence, his eyes widening. "You…have clients you think might blend with the WHAM ARMY philosophy?"

"Six at least," Zorg explained. Then, very, very softly: "Presumin' none of 'em tried to use their teleporters an' ain't figured out the glitch yet…"

"Mozenrath," the Huntsman cautioned. "This isn't what we're here for. The next item on our itinerary is the data Vexen requested."

"It won't kill Vexen to wait," Mozenrath replied. "Well, all right, he just might burst a blood vessel, but that'd be entertaining if it happened. Right now, I'm looking at bolstering our ranks a little more. This is ATLANTIS we're talking about."

"Atlantis?" Zorg chuckled. "Didn't realize we were chasin' fairy tales."

"You DOUBT our claims?" Mysterio asked.

"Well, not no more," Zorg said sheepishly. "That little magic mitten hints there's more here than meets the eye."

"IT'S NOT A MITTEN!" Mozenrath yelled. "IT'S A GAUNTLET!"

"You have anger management issues, don't you?" Drake brought up.

Mozenrath gritted his teeth. "I want…to see the list of the clients of yours who wouldn't have ethical reservations and may be open to alliance," he growled.

"That ain't info I just pony up for free," Zorg stated.

Mozenrath dropped a purse on the table. Zorg opened it up. Coin from the New York heist, but, more importantly, a microchip. Zorg picked it up between gentle fingers.

"You ever wanted all the tech secrets of Xanatos Enterprises?" Mozenrath asked. "Because they're right there on that chip. You can replicate everything from invisible laser light technology to streamlined flight armor to the infamous Xanatos Roadster."

"An' I'm to assume ya bumped off Xany for this?" Zorg asked.

"No," Mozenrath grumbled. "If not for the lack of trying. He holed up somewhere secure."

"Good." Zorg grinned. "I wanna see the look on his face when I roll out his technology with some good old-fashioned Zorg improvements. All right. I'm in. And so are my buyers, provided you're as persuasive with them as you've been here and now."

"Persuasive, hm?" Mysterio began to think it over. Already, an idea was beginning to take shape in his mind, but he would need Drake's help to pull it off.

...

The Lapidaries had no idea of the razing of Fun Land, for they were admiring the sights and sounds of the music festival on the beach. The same went for Steven, White Diamond, and Corona Pearl, who admired the massive stage that had been set up against the backdrop of a recently-set sun. A host of acts had been booked, and at the moment, a youth with rich brown skin, a glittering silver nose ring, and short hair cropped beneath a baseball cap was strumming a guitar and singing out a soulful ballad.

"You know," Peter observed as he and the others found a place in the crowd, "she's actually pretty good. If a little derivative, but that's pop music for you."

"Um, excuse you." A boy in the crowd whose skin seemed to be bright pink – a Gem? – turned to glare at Peter. "Shep isn't a 'she'."

"Ah!" Peter realized it must be a case like Neo. "My apologies. He's – "

"They're," the pink boy insisted.

"They?" Peter repeated, eyebrows raising with curiosity.

"You know," the pink boy asserted. "None of the above. Why do I have to explain this?"

"Lars!" A short, stocky blonde with snow-pale skin who stood at his side elbowed him hard. "Not everybody's educated on LGBT issues!"

"Now, out of pure curiosity," Peter asked, not caring if he came across as polite or not, "how does one go about figuring out if one is truly…none of the above?"

"Don't ask me," Lars the pink boy grunted. "That's not my story."

"Hmm." Peter took it under consideration. "Curiouser and curiouser…"

His gaze drifted to Shep onstage. They did look very androgynous by design. Peter had never fully been aware that could be an option (though hadn't Harley mentioned it was the case with one of her new client-friends?), and the concept was rife with possibilities.

But before he could go too far down the rabbit hole, Zevon had pointed to the stage and yelled, "BEHOLD ON!"

A vibrantly pink Pearl, one eye missing and replaced by an enormous crack in her face, was escorting Shep off the stage to the sounds of thunderous applause.

"Thank you, Shep!" Pink Pearl called out. "Beautiful, that was just beautiful! Now, up next, we have DJ Sour Cream on the table-turner…oh, no, wait, turntables! That's what they're called! But don't worry! He'll encore for the closing act by Sadie Killer and the Suspects, which I know you've all been waiting for!"

A thunderous cry went up from the audience.

"And I will remind you that any acts are allowed to sign up between now and the Suspects!" Pink Diamond asserted.

"You hear that?" Steven cried excitedly. "Corona Pearl! You should sign up for an act and sing a sea shanty!"

"Only if the Diamond sings along," Corona Pearl said with a mischievous leer.

"What?" White Diamond flinched. "Why me?"

"Maybe I'm fond of ye," Corona Pearl explained. "Or maybe I'm tired of ye and wanna give ye one last chance to prove yer mettle."

"You are the strangest Gem I have ever met," White Diamond huffed.

"Thank ye kindly."

"Now I've no choice but to follow you onstage," White Diamond complained.

"Actually, you can choose not to," Steven told her.

"No choice!" White Diamond repeated. "It would be a societal faux pas!"

"But…you made society," Steven reminded her. "Are you sure you don't just wanna say you like Corona Pearl and wanna sing with her?"

"As if I would EVER!" White Diamond folded her arms.

"As I thought," Corona Pearl muttered. "The tides don't change."

Of course, Yzma had started shaking Zevon and Wuya excitedly by the shoulders; "Any act can sign up! This could be our chance!"

"Of COURSE!" Zevon crowed. "Positionosing as a musical act would put us in approximity to that Pearl, because she is announciating all the acts!"

"…Yes," Yzma said hastily. "The Pearl. That's definitely why I want to do this."

"We're doing it," Wuya asserted. "I'll handle background music."

"What song are we gonna do?" Garfield asked, not even questioning that he'd be a part of this.

Wuya shrugged; "I've got a techno remix of Greensleeves on the brain. I guess from there, we just do that thing where we let the song take over."

"I didn't utterly conquer a rhythm game just to hide my dance prowess from the world at large now," Peter stated.

"YES!" Irmaplotz squealed. "I NEVER get to do a villain song!"

"It is pretty standard as part of the villain itinerary," Jack agreed.

Then everyone turned to look at Draco, who asked, "Do I really have a bloody choice?"

"No," Wuya told him.

"Then I'm in," Draco huffed.

"I'll sign us up!" Yzma rushed toward the stage. The others followed leisurely, quickly talking over lyrical themes they wanted to embody. Wuya shot a blast at the nearby speaker system, loading it up with the data for the backing track she needed to play – which would erase itself after the performance had ended.

They met back up with Yzma, who was drawing the curtain across the stage by yanking on a frayed rope. "We're going to need atmosphere for this," she grunted.

"Agreed," Wuya told her. "After all, the Lapidaries can't have any entrance but a dramatic one."

"Oh." Yzma dropped the rope. "Eh…eheheh…I sort of…didn't sign us up for that name."

Wuya rubbed two fingertips into her forehead; "What did you do?"

"I, er, panicked," Yzma said sheepishly. "I thought of the first thing I knew about us."

"What," Wuya repeated, "did. You. DO."

On the side of the curtain facing the audience, Pink Pearl announced, "Oh, I've never heard of this band before! Looks like we have some new faces, and they're going by '8'!"

"To be clear," Yzma stated, "that's the numeral '8,' not the word 'eight.'"

"You named us after HOW MANY OF US THERE ARE?" Draco snapped.

"No, no." Wuya held up a hand to silence him. "We can work with this."

"Curtain's pulling!" Jack realized. "Places, places, PLACES!" His voice hit a shrill squeak.

The curtain rolled back to reveal the eight of them, standing with Yzma and Wuya grouped together and Jack and Irmaplotz grouped together but otherwise spaced across the stage evenly, heads down, in the dark. A percussive intro rolled them in.

"Transformed," Yzma and Wuya said as one.

Two drum beats.

"Arrested," Peter stated.

Two beats.

"Traumatized," Garfield said coldly.

Three beats.

"Disgraced," Zevon added.

Two beats.

"Heartbroken," Jack and Irmaplotz said in unison.

Two beats.

"Survived," Draco concluded.

Three beats.

Wuya was the first to look up, throwing an arm into the air as she proclaimed, "And tonight, we are - !"

A rainbow of lights, the thrumming of the electronic beat, it all came at once, dazzling the senses as the eight all looked up, copying Wuya's pose and crying, "LIIIIIIIIIIIIVE!"

Yzma took a step forth; "Listen up! Let me tell you a story!"

Peter pirouetted out front of her: "A story you may not have heard before!"

Garfield jumped forward; "We hope you'll know our names and our fame and our faces."

"Know all about the glories," Zevon added, "not the disungraces!"

Leaping forward to throw out his arms, Jack cried, "I'm done, 'cause all this time!"

Irmaplotz spun, then leaned against him, a hand dramatically pressed to her forehead; "I've been just another sad Ped Xing rhyme!"

"So I picked up a quill and a microphone!" Draco chimed in.

Wuya made a roundhouse kick that landed her front and center of the group; "History's about to get overthrown."

They all made a repeat of their assigned words:

"Transformed."

"Arrested."

"Traumatized."

"Disgraced."

"Heartbroken."

"Survived."

And together, as one: "But just for you, tonight, we're transformed, arrested, LIIIIIIVE! Welcome to the show, to the historemix! Villains become super as we add the prefix! Everybody knows that we lived a life of criiiiime!"

They then began to romp around the stage, hands in the air, clapping to the beat; "Raising up the roof 'till we hit the ceiling! Get ready for the truth that we'll be revealing! Everybody knows that we lived a life of criiiii-iiiii-iiiiime! It was our!"

Freezing, striking eight distinct poses for the crowd: "BEST LIVES!"

The instrumental break kicked in. Greensleeves, as Wuya had promised. For a measure, they each broke it down into their own sort of dance: Yzma tapped, Wuya swayed, Peter flipped, Garfield flailed, Zevon rocked, Jack boogied, Irmaplotz kicked like a Cossack dancer, and Draco simply nodded his head to the beat.

"All you ever hear and read about!" Wuya sang as she spun out front once more.

She slid to the side to make room for Yzma, who strode forth, arms out, proclaiming, "Are the heroes and the way it ended!"

As Yzma backed off, Peter came backflipping in, arcing like a rainbow until he stood on one hand to say, "But an idol can't flex like a high-end doll!"

He collapsed like an accordion and rolled away so Garfield could jump in and say, "And this time, we're not gonna be unfriended."

Zevon slid in front of him, arms up high; "Tonight; we're gonna do ourselves justifice!"

Irmaplotz teleported in front of Zevon in a puff of green smoke; "'Cause we're taking you to court!"

She moved so Jack could dance in a silly fashion to the center; "And every good spice will burn you in the eyes!"

They all parted to reveal Draco standing stone-still and proclaiming, "Conjunctivitis Curse until you see our retort."

Another round:

"Transformed."

"Arrested."

"Traumatized."

"Disgraced."

"Heartbroken."

"Survived."

As one: "But just for you tonight, we're disgraced, heartbroken, LIIIIIIIVE!"

Now their dancing was as perfectly synchronized as if they'd practiced it beforehand: "Welcome to the show, to the historemix! Villains become super as we add the prefix! Everybody knows that we lived a life of criiiiime! Dancing to the beat 'till the break of day!"

Irmaplotz leapt into the air, crying out, "ONCE WE'RE DONE, WE'LL START AGAIN LIKE IT'S THE RENAISSANCE!"

As she landed, they chorused again, "Everybody knows that we lived a life of criiiiiii-iiiiii-iiiime! It was our! BEST LIVES!"

Most backed off then; the lights dimmed. Wuya and Yzma approached from opposite sides of the stage, stalking gracefully forward to the center, as soft green and purple enveloped them.

"My name's Wuya," Wuya sang, "the Heylin ghost."

"And Yzma was the kitten that they loved the most," Yzma added. "But also royalty, no loyalty to Emperor Kuzco."

"Box me up again," Wuya growled, "I'll kick your butt like you're Raimundo."

Peter rose up from between them like a jack-in-the-box in slow motion; the women backed off as he sang, "I am the Ragdoll and I'm up next. Yes, I out-cat-burglared Catwoman; yeah, I'm that sexy. Why Arkham Asylum for me? Prob'ly 'cause I stole some Cat's-Eye-Emerald green."

A bright golden spotlight illuminated Garfield behind him; Peter somersaulted away as Garfield sang, "I'm Firefly, the only one here with real problems."

A beat. Then the others chorused softly, "Rude."

"Freak accident, they called me Phosphorus," Garfield continued, the light tinting deeper and deeper orange. "But I'm not that heated up anymore, or am I? Stick around for the chorus; you can't ignore us!"

Zevon outright shoved Garfield aside to take the spotlight, which became a bright blue; "They call me Zevon! Son of Yzma!"

To which the others gave a "Ja!"

"When I see a magic gem," Zevon continued, "then I'm like – "

"Ja!" the others chorused.

"But I always aim high when I make my pick!" Zevon groaned. "And they mock me for it, and they also say I've got a little – "

"PRICK UP YOUR EARS!" Irmaplotz said hastily. "I'm the princess who lost her boyfriend!" Dancing lights of red and pink washed over her. "For being too evil for any sort of wed – "

"Lock up your boyfriends!" Jack picked up, sliding in next to her. "Your girlfriends, daughters, sons! Chase Young got burned back and our fun's begun!"

Pale green bathed the stage as once again, everyone parted to leave Draco alone at the center: ensuring he couldn't leave now. "Seven down," he sang softly, gaze downcast, "I'm the final lowlife. I saw Voldemort to the end of his life."

Suddenly, his head snapped up, sending his piercing gaze over the audience; his foot stamped down. "I'm the survivor!" he proclaimed. "The Malfoy heir! I bet you wanna know how I got here from there! I said I BET YOU WANNA KNOW HOW WE GOT HERE FROM THERE!"

They all piled back toward the center of the stage, repeating: "DO YOU WANNA KNOW HOW WE GOT HERE FROM THERE?"

The chorus one last time: "Welcome to the show, to the historemix! Villains become super as we add the prefix! Everybody knows that we lived a life of criiiiiiime!"

Hands in the air, clapping to the beat, and the audience followed suit. "Get your HANDS UP!" the villains cried. "Get used to the lot of us! If you want armed and dangerous, then we're the octopus! Everybody knows that we lived a life of criiiiii…"

They held the note, harmonizing, taking it high then low, crouching to the ground. Then raising it back up along with their bodies, hands toward the sky: " -iiiiiime! It was our! BEST LIVES!"

Yzma and Wuya tangoed from the left side of the stage to the right. Peter spun Garfield and dipped him low. Irmaplotz and Jack bumped hips. Zevon forcibly made Draco waltz with him to a 4/4 beat, and Draco may not have resisted as much as he would like to claim.

As the lights strobed, the last instrumental break ending, they cried out, "ONE! TWO! THREE! FOUR! FIVE! SIX! SEVEN!"

A loud whisper: "8."

And the lights died.

The audience erupted into an absolute uproar of cheering and applause.

"Those lyrics were weirdly villainous!" someone in the crowd yelled.

"I kinda liked it!" another called back.

The members of "8" took a moment to bask in the applause, bowing and offering false thank-yous until they backed offstage. Surprisingly, it was Draco who needed to be dragged away by Yzma, his face alit with the praise from the others for something he'd sung himself and put heart into.

"Will you let me bloody have this?" he pleaded with her.

"You've had enough for one night," Yzma told him. "There'll be karaoke nights back home for you to show off."

"You really are the team mum. And that's not a compliment."

The minute 8 was escorted offstage, Steven, inspired, rushed to pull the curtain himself. "Hey, guys!" he said into the frontmost microphone. "How're you all doin' tonight, huh?"

The crowd screamed with joy.

"GREAT!" Steven yelled. "'Cause I've got a special act for you up next! Get ready for the musical stylings of Corona Pearl and our very own! WHITE! DIAMOOOOOOOND!"

As Steven backed away, Corona Pearl and White Diamond entering from the side stairway in front of the curtain, most of the audience gasped in fear, the Gems present putting up the Diamond salute.

"Popular around here, ain't ye?" Corona Pearl elbowed White Diamond.

"Respected," White Diamond corrected. Then, softly, "But perhaps that's not a good thing anymore…"

Once a complete silence had fallen over the stage and the crowd before the curtain, Corona Pearl began to sing. And instead of a wild tune, as White Diamond had expected, it was a crooning, a soft ballad: "To sail on a dream on a crystal clear ocean. To ride on the crest of a wild raging storm! To work in the service of life and the living in search of the answers to questions unknown!"

Deep in her heart, White Diamond knew the words of this song, and she began to sing along, harmonizing: "To be part of the movement and part of the growing! Part of beginning to understand…!"

Backstage, Pink Pearl rushed up to the 8-Lapidaries; "That was so WONDERFUL! It made me feel…weirdly free and powerful! Like I can sing about my own story and take pride in who I am! I haven't felt that since…" She thought it over. "I'm not sure I've ever felt that!"

"Thaaaaat's nice." Zevon summoned his staff. "BA-BOOM!"

Pink Pearl clattered to the wooden planks below.

Zevon knelt, laying the compass on the ground and rolling Pink Pearl's Gem around it. "NO!" he growled. "IT ISN'T HER!"

"And on top of that, the needle's being weird!" Yzma grunted.

"Yeah, why's it moving back and forth like that?" Garfield asked.

"Oh, fellow Lapidaries…"

Wuya had peeled back the curtain just a smidgen to show them that Corona Pearl had begun to leap and prance about the stage as she sang: "Aye, Corona, the places you've been to! The things that you've shown us; the stories you tell!"

Her movements matched, exactly, those of the needle.

A sevenfold "OH" of understanding dropped.

White Diamond soon found herself dancing wildly along with Corona Pearl; "Aye, Aurora! I sing to your spirit! The Gems who have served you so long and so well!"

From there, it was vocalizing: a wordless tune that rose into the sky like seagulls flying out to sea. The two Gems had found their understanding, their bridge, their midpoint, and White Diamond was caught up in euphoria: the absolute freedom of Corona Pearl's spirit, how it contradicted her notions of rules, regulations, and perfection.

They reached for each other's hands on the last note, spun together –

And on the last note of the wordless melody, there was no White Diamond; there was no Corona Pearl. Instead, a much larger four-armed Gem, bright pink, bearing a rounded gem on her liver and another on her forehead, shown off by the cuts of her glittering red gown, stood onstage, belting in a voice all her own.

"Oh my gosh!" Steven gasped from the crowd. "They actually fused!"

Philosopher's Stone had barely been in existence for a minute, and already, she loved being her. She raised her four hands, gasping at them as though seeing digits for the first time. And the crowd was applauding and whistling; not as hard or raucously as they'd done for 8, but still a cheer of positivity.

The 8-Lapidaries leapt through the curtain from behind, attempting to strike en masse. The audience thought it was all part of the show, but Philosopher's Stone knew better. She could feel hostility. She drew two kopis blades, one from her forehead and one from her liver, each deep pink and edged in gold. Then she braced for battle.

And a battle might have ensued if not for the sudden chord that played over the speakers, and the line sung along with it:

"I'VE WAITED SO LONG TO HAVE THIS MOMENT!"

Philosopher's Stone didn't know the voice. Or the instrument. But the Lapidaries, save Draco, knew both.

"Oh, dear," Yzma squeaked, wide-eyed.

The crowd parted as Demyx, with Hans in tow, moved toward the stage, sitar in hand. He played the accompaniment to his own song: "I'VE THOUGHT OF THE WAYS I'D MAKE YOU PAY! The tables are turned – "

Flurious and Gothel made their way in from the right.

"The lesson is learned!"

Doom and Grimhilde from the left.

"Now I hold the keeeey!" Demyx cried. "'CAUSE ONLY A FOOL UNDERESTIMATES MEEEEEE!"

The sitar strummed harder, and a wall of water went up to the right of the stage. Flurious froze it, creating half a dome, as Demyx and Hans belted in harmony, "AN EEEEEEEYE! FOR AN EEEEEEYE!"

The crowd was already in a panic, everyone rushing away from the elemental onslaught as quickly as they could – save Steven Universe, who was trying to hurry to Philosopher's Stone. Grimhilde and Doom exacerbated the panic, summoning several spheres of ball lightning to ricochet about, urging the people away.

"A WROOOOOOONG!" Demyx and Hans crooned, the second half of the watery dome rising up and freezing. "FOR A WROOOOONG!"

Now, the only people inside the dome were Philosopher's Stone, the 8-Lapidaries, and the six Overtakers. Wuya made to rush the interlopers, hands aglow, but she was thrown back by a massive wave of energy from Doom, slamming into the thick of the ice.

"WUYA!" Yzma charged after her.

Grimhilde crouched, her hag form much lower to the ground than the queen, and placed her gnarled hands on the boards of the stage. The floor began to turn to smooth, solid glass.

"Never forgive!" Demyx's voice mounted, solo. "Never forget! THIS IS YOUR LAST REGREEEET!"

Philosopher's stone leapt, blades held high.

"WHAT GOES AROOOOUUUUND – " Demyx belted.

And all of them sank, down into the glass as though it were water, eaten up by the mirror Grimhilde had made. Philosopher's Stone crashed right down into the surface of the liquid once her targets had already disappeared.

The only thing that remained aboveground was Demyx's voice, delivering the final notes: "COMES AROOOOOUUUUUUND!"

The mirror solidified, then shattered. Steven finally broke through the dome. Philosopher's Stone was gone.

...

"Well, that could've gone better," Yzma huffed as she, Wuya, Peter, Garfield, Zevon, Draco, Jack, and Irmaplotz found themselves in an arena of shifting blue auras like flame as far as the eye could see.

"I don't like this," Jack squeaked, grasping at Irmaplotz's hand. "Can I go home now?"

"Bad aura!" Irmaplotz agreed. "BAD AURA!"

One by one, eight mirrors flashed into existence, equidistant around them.

"Oh, that just bodes SO well." Wuya rolled her eyes.

Peter was the first to approach a mirror. He touched it. "Seems to be ordinary glass…" Tap. Tap. Tap. "Anyone in there? Any demons itching to come out and play?"

"Don't TEMPT them!" Draco yelled.

In an instant, Peter's reflection went from clear to utterly blurred. He backed off as his reflection simply stepped out of the mirror, beginning to advance upon him. Not a perfect view of anything. A roughly Peter-shaped blur, vaguely his colors, moving in an imitation of the way he moved.

"Why, what a false smile!" The reflection had his voice, but garbled, as though coming through a bad speaker, glitching out. "One can't even imagine the turmoil, the confusion within! The questions! The memories! Past traumas hidden! I don't even know who I am anymore! Which means…neither do you."

"Well, I know who I am." Another reflection had crawled out: a grayish-white featureless man, like a statue that had only mostly gotten carved. No face, no fabric details, no color. "I'm nobody. I used to be someone, of course."

A Dark Mark etched itself into his chest, and now they all knew whose it was. "But I threw that away," the faceless Draco growled. "I threw it all away and spat on my family name!" The snake of the Dark Mark grew longer than it ever should have been, winding around the faceless Draco's body. "Now I'm NOTHING!"

"Hey, Firefly." Garfield's own voice prompted him to look into the mirror nearest him and gasp at his worst nightmare. A man who shone like an ember beneath a crusty exterior was approaching him, eyes blazing. "Remember me? Yeah, I know you do."

"Oh, this is the LAST thing I needed today," Garfield groaned. "Forget you, Phosphorus."

"Forget me?" Phosphorus laughed. "Like that's ever gonna happen. I AM you, Garfield. Firefly's just an act. Deep down, you know this is who you are. What you wanna be. Why don't you just give in?"

"Uhhhhh…hi guys?" a meek voice squeaked. Jack Spicer's reflection stumbled out of its mirror, wearing the white uniform Jack had rejected earlier. "I'm just a good guy pretending to be a villain for fun. But I can't live up to your guys' awesomeness!" His eyes watered. "I gotta find friends on my level! I'm no good at evil! I should just give up entirely and focus on what I'm good at! Like baking! Maybe I can open a patisserie back home!"

"Duhhhhhh, I'm on your level!" Zevon's reflection stumbled out of its glass. Backward. "Oh, no, I'm not! I'm waaaaaaay too stupid! L.O.L.!" He tripped and landed on his backside. "A-hyuck! Looks like I'm clumsidoofiklutzikus!"

A loud wailing, like that of a banshee, clued them in to the presence of the sobbing Irmaplotz reflection. "I'm not over him!" she cried. "Even though I have an amazing new boyfriend and a new family I found, I'm not over him, and I never will be! The only way my heart can ever mend is if I go…GOOD! I need to make up for where I lost him, even if I don't want him anymore!"

"Y-y-yoooouuuu…" A crooked figure with stuttering movements edged out of her mirror. "You're too old for this, you know…" She looked up, revealing herself to be an Yzma with much looser, more creased skin, practically hanging off her face. "And so am I. We should've retired years ago. Or maybe died."

"And how long are you going to hang around these losers?" Wuya's reflection bore hair as black as the original's dress and was clothed in a gown as red as the original's hair. "Are you really telling me something better hasn't come along? I bet you could curry some favor with Maleficent, you know. This isn't you. This isn't what you do. You're just waiting for the next chance…" She produced a pair of twin daggers from nowhere. "To stab them in the back."

"So, ah," Yzma muttered as the eight backed away from the advancing reflections, toward each other. "It seems these are manifestations of our inner insecurities come to destroy us."

"Like that part wasn't obvious," Wuya stated. "Well, there's only one thing to do now."

"And, ah, what is that?" Yzma asked, chuckling nervously.

"What we usually do with insecurities," Wuya stated. "Shove them off to the side and make them another person's problem."

As one, they all understood what she meant.

Elsewhere within the mirror dimension, Philosopher's Stone found herself upon a stone platform surrounded by small pavilions, decorated with curtains and each holding an ornate mirror within. Beyond that was black space, glimmers in the distance appearing at first to be stars but revealing themselves to be shards of glass.

"Let us make this brief," Doom said as he, Grimhilde, Flurious, Demyx, and Gothel surrounded Philosopher's Stone. "I do so hate mirrors."

Wuya dealt a roundhouse kick to mirror-Jack's face, sending the white-clad boy flying. "What do you MEAN you should give up evil?" she growled. "You have the most potential I've ever SEEN!" She flew to hover above him. "You just have to actually USE IT FOR ONCE!"

With that, she rained a deadly assault of green down onto the reflection, evaporating him in a high-pitched scream.

"Awww, that's the nicest thing you've ever said about me!" the real Jack called back.

"Don't get used to it," Wuya grunted.

"Hey, you!" Jack pointed toward Phosphorus.

"Me?" Phosphorus grinned, pointing at himself mischievously.

"You're just a freak of science!" Jack yelled. "You're not a real villain! You're just a mental mutation! You wouldn't be ANYTHING without Firefly to lend you the fire!"

"What did you just say to me?" Phosphorous glowered at Jack.

"I saaaiiiiiiiid FLYINGPUNCHTIME!"

Phosphorus was caught off-guard by Jack's fist as the boy rammed into him, and erupted into ashes that flew away as if caught by a breeze.

"Speaking of?" Garfield called over to Wuya. "Battlesuit? Any time now."

Wuya flicked her wrist, and he was clothed in his armor. "Nice," he muttered. "Now. Eenie, meenie, miney…" He pointed his gauntlet at mirror-Irmaplotz. "Crybaby."

"Please, no!" mirror-Irmaplotz sobbed. "Are you going to hurt me tooooo?"

"Yeah, I am," Garfield told her. "'Cause the thing about hurt is, you get stronger than it. And she already did."

Mirror-Irmaplotz dissolved horrifically in a burst of flame.

"Oh, COME ON!" Irmaplotz yelled at mirror-Yzma. "How do you seriously think you're too old for this gig? You're our team mom! We're a bunch of stupid kids without you! And most importantly, YOU DON'T TURN EVERYTHING I SAY INTO A DUMB KNOCK-KNOCK JOKE, SO THAT'S ALREADY BETTER THAN MY MOM EVER WAS!"

"Wha - ?" mirror-Yzma began to respond.

And a green beam from Irmaplotz struck her in the face, evaporating her on the spot.

Yzma pinned mirror-Draco down, bashing at him with her portable hammer. "YOU! KNOW! WHO! YOU! ARE!" she spat. "YOU! DON'T! LICK! THE! EMPEROR'S! BOOT! …Did I say 'emperor's'? I meant 'Voldemort's.' Silly me…"

The faceless Draco shattered away beneath the pounding.

"I've no idea what you're on about," Draco told mirror-Peter. "Whatever this is, you've NEVER let on before. But if I can get over myself, than you can get over you! Bloody hell, I'm just jealous that you can even smile over feeling conflicted!" A flick of his wand; "CRUCIO!"

Mirror-Peter shuddered in pain, crying out as he crumbled into dust.

"Still not a kill," Draco said proudly. "Wonder how long I can get away with loopholes. It's starting to become a sport in and of itself."

"Now, see, THAT'S the sort of anti-bloodthirst that keeps you on the WHAM ARMY!" Peter said as he cartwheeled around mirror-Zevon. "Now, I take it you think you're some sort of idiot? That's certainly not the Zevon I know."

"Uhhhh, whahahahaaaat?" mirror-Zevon laughed, picking his nose. "Accudaccucrackusations!"

"See, the true Zevon has more class than that," Peter stated. "And also wouldn't fall for THIS!"

He feinted, sidestepped, wrapped his arms around mirror-Zevon's neck from behind and squeezed until there was a snap. Mirror-Zevon became little more than sparkling dust.

That left Zevon, armed with his staff, against the final opponent: mirror-Wuya. "You won't betraitor us!" he bellowed at her, firing blast after blast; "KA-POW! ZA-ZOOM! KA-DROOM!"

Mirror-Wuya flitted around his fire easily. "And how do you know that?"

"Because YOU LOVE MY MOTHER!"

"Hmph. Love." Mirror-Wuya gave a dramatic shrug. "Don't know her."

"STOP LYING! BECAUSE MY MOTHER LOVES YOU, AND…" he dropped his voice to a mumble: "AndsodoI." Raising it again: "THERE! I SAID IT BUT ONLY TO MYSELF, SO YOU WON'T HAVE TO KNOW WHAT I JUST ADMITTANCED!"

"But if I'm not a traitor," mirror-Wuya gasped, "then who am I?"

"SOMEWHERE YOU BELONG!" Zevon yelled.

"That's the answer to 'where,'" mirror-Wuya taunted. "I asked 'who.' It's a pretty crucial – "

"KER-ZAP!"

Mirror-Wuya was struck full-force by the staff's blast, shattering into fragments riding beams of light.

The eight mirrors converged into one, shimmering brightly.

"That's our escape route," Wuya noted. "Let's go!"

On the main platform of the World Within, Philosopher's Stone was busy keeping her opponents at bay. She'd had to call up two more kopides for her other hands, and while one struck against Thunder Edge, one deflected Gothel's throwing knives, one reflected Grimhilde's lightning back at her, and one slashed down water forms that rushed her.

"JUST GIVE ME YOUR IMMORTALITY!" Gothel growled.

"NO!" Philosopher's Stone cried, deftly sparring her opponents en masse. "So long as I live, I shan't give in! For I am made of only the strongest – "

She gave a sudden, piercing cry, her body stuttering to a stop. From behind, Hans had crept so quietly until he could plunge the jagged, broken half of his sword into her back. From that impalement, her body of light dissolved, leaving two reddish-pink spherical gems to rattle around on the ground. One of them faded, becoming a white pearl once more, but the other, a clear and multifaceted stone, remained hot in tone.

"Come to Mommy!" Gothel snapped up the Philosopher's Stone, holding it up victoriously.

That was when the 8-Lapidaries leapt out of the mirror at the far end, seeing the Corona Pearl rolling.

"GET THAT PEARL!" Yzma pointed.

Draco's wand flicked; "ACCIO!"

The Corona pearl flicked into Zevon's waiting grasp.

"INTRUDERS!" Flurious cried, raising Thunder Edge high.

"Have a little trouble facing your own reflections?" Grimhilde cackled.

"Obviously not," Doom stated, "or we would not face them now."

"Let's just get this over with," Demyx sighed. "I'm overdue for a nap."

"Jack," Wuya hissed. "Irmaplotz! I need those abominations you made at the meepmorp barn!"

"You mean these?" Irmaplotz asked as she and Jack held out their overlarge macramé owls.

Wuya grinned; "Exactly."

After a surge of green magic, the owls were not only animated, but multiplied fiftyfold, making a centurion of macramé owls total with new life breathed into them. They rushed the Overtakers in a deadly flock, descending just long enough to keep them occupied.

"THAT'S THE WAY OUT!" Wuya yelled, pointing to the entrance pavilion.

"HOW DO YOU KNOW?" Draco called back.

"Because it looks like it," Wuya told him. "You have a better way of telling?"

Draco didn't, so he gritted his teeth and ran.

All eight managed to get across the stone of the World Within as the Overtakers fought off the owls, leaping through the far mirror to land on the sands of the beach in front of The Big Donut. Behind them, the mirror cracked, preventing anyone from following.

In a burst of electricity conducted by water and ice, every single owl exploded, leaving six angry Overtakers to barrel toward the now-broken mirror.

"Are we just going to LET THEM GET AWAY?" Gothel seethed.

"I mean, normally, no," Demyx mused, "but like I said. Nap time. I'm tired of chasing WHAM ARMY. They took the wrong gem anyway. Can't we just go home?"

"Demyx is, surprisingly, correct," Doom stated. "We have what we came for. It would be of little practicality to continue the chase. Our foes will fall when we are better prepared for that task."

"I thought we wanted the Corona Aurora gems," Hans said flatly. "That's what they took."

"Indeed," Doom stated. "Yet it may benefit us to let them continue the chase."

"How?" Hans asked.

"A question to answer another day," Doom told him. "Let us be gone."

"This way, pretties!" Grimhilde led the group toward another pavilion to bring them an exit through the fractured mines and back home to the Forbidden Mountain.

"I am pretty, aren't I?" Gothel giggled, giddy with joy now that she clutched the key to her own immortality.

Doom hesitated, looking back at the broken mirror. Then he dealt it a gauntleted punch so that its already-cracked glass fell out.

"I despise mirrors," he grunted before turning to stalk after his fellows.

...

By the time Roman was to go onstage under the pseudonym of Archibald Snatcher, he was completely sober, which did not make him one bit happy.

"Oh, don't look like such a sourpuss," Aghoul told him as they waited out back of the makeshift stage. "If you've got stage fright, you just need to picture the women in the audience in their underwear. Always works for me!"

Roman raised a brow at him.

"Oh, right," Aghoul realized. "You'd picture the MEN."

Roman let out a sigh.

His scroll jingled, and he plucked it from his pocket, giving a cursory glance at the name on the screen first. "What's the holdup, Hell on Heels?" he asked, pressing the phone to his ear. "Kinda on a tight schedule here."

"Your rally was an hour ago," Scarlet said on the other end of the line, confused. "You're done. Mine's about to go on."

"Yeah, well, I dropped the word and got it moved back," Roman answered. "Decreases suspicion if we go on at the same time. Sets the precedent that Archie and Frou Frou are in fact two different people."

"Oh, right! That is SO smart."

"So why the call? I will remind you I am close to being on borrowed time."

"Oh, you know." Scarlet laughed nervously. "Just thought I'd check in. See if you were nervous. But you're probably not nervous. Neither am I. It's okay if you are, though. You could tell me and I wouldn't – "

"You have stage fright, don't you?" Roman sighed.

"What? Me? Noooooo. No. No! That's stupid."

"It's fine." Roman shut his eyes. "What are partners in crime for, after all?"

"Look," Scarlet moaned, "I've been having this crisis since yesterday, and I can't just blaze it like you and get into a good mood."

"I'm not 'blazing it' right now," Roman told her. "Corpsey put me on cold turkey so I wouldn't start spouting nonsense. But at what cost? Also, how did you not notice I was high earlier? Your husband is literally named 'Herb' and always chill. I assumed he was like an ultra-stoner."

"Roman, this is serious."

"Nooooooot hearing a no on Herb being an ultra-stoner."

"Will you just forget about the herb and the Herb?" Scarlet snapped. "Yesterday, some people here reminded me that I'm…getting older. And…a little uglier."

"So?"

"Sooooooo I've built my entire self-image on being young and attractive and hot stuff with a tiny waist!" Scarlet barked. "Sn – a certain somebody told me yesterday the way to win hearts was to have confidence, but I DON'T! It's all gone with what I used to look like! I have my hair freshly beehived, I'm not wearing that stupid tiara, I bought this dress less than a half hour ago and I already hate how my figure looks in it, and they are NOT going to buy what I say the way they'd buy you-know-who!"

"Look." Roman pinched at his brows. "Hell on Heels. The way I see it – "

"Okay, why is that the third time?"

"Third time what?"

"When you first met me," Scarlet explained, "I was 'Strawberry Punch.' Then I was…'Beehive,' I think? And now I'm 'H-E-double-hockey-sticks on Heels.'"

Roman snorted at her reticence to curse. It might've been adorable if he weren't in such a horrible mood. "Okay. Scarlet. I'll be real with you. You're very…by-the-book, you know? Textbook perfection. You're what I'd expect a lady bank robber to look like to the letter. And that's not a bad thing! It just doesn't give me much to work with when I'm trying to pick out something distinct for your nickname."

"Oh, so now YOU think I'm ugly too!"

"Never said that," Roman corrected. "What I'm saying is…how much of that is actually you? Did you just base your entire aesthetic on a fashion magazine, or is there anything that's quintessentially Scarlet Overkill in there? Because maybe, just maybe, if you weren't trying to live up to somebody else's image of perfection, you wouldn't be freaking out so hard. Maybe, if you were trying to be the best Scarlet Overkill you could be, you'd find the confidence place. But what do I know? I only cycled through about five different hairstyles and jackets over the course of my career trying to figure out who Roman Torchwick was. And do I need to tell you how Neo needed to find Neo?"

"…You're right," Scarlet realized. "You are RIGHT. Oh my – I have to go. I need to change some…things. Roman, you're a genius. Okayloveyoubye – "

"Scarlet."

"What?"

Roman swallowed hard. "We both know you don't think it's a 'stupid tiara.' You know what it means to you. I know what the person who gave it to you…just wear the damn thing. You'll work it."

"Duly noted. Bye. Still love you."

Scarlet hung up, turning to Rémington with ferocity in her eyes. "I need my hair done," she growled at him.

"Again?" Rémington sighed in dismay; he'd already had to spend far too long watching her coif the last updo.

The sun was at its zenith in the sky, and across the city, Scarlet and Roman stood behind two makeshift curtains, peeking out at the crowds that had assembled. Oh, and what crowds awaited them. Snatcher's original bid hadn't failed to drum up a lot of attention. Which, really, should've come as no surprise.

A deep inhale.

"You got this, Scarlet," Scarlet muttered to herself. Rémington flashed her thumbs-up from the side.

"Here goes nothing," Roman muttered. Aghoul fired him finger-guns.

Exhale, sweep back the curtain, and step out to meet the sea of faces awaiting them.

"THANK YOU, THANK YOU!" Scarlet threw her hands out and gave a dramatic bow to the crowd of benders that awaited her. As she did so, her tiara did not shift, for her hair was woven to keep it in place, but her twin pigtails that replaced her updo swung along with her body. "I AM MADAME FROU FROU, AND IT IS SUCH A PLEASURE!"

"Oh, stop!" Roman said as he, too, made a dramatic arms-outstretched entrance, miles away. "You're too kind, really! Which is gonna need to change if we wanna get anywhere by the end of this thing, but let's enjoy the moment!"

When the applause died down, Scarlet looked out over the sea of faces. "I'm glad you all turned out today," she began. "All you wonderful, lovely non-benders!"

"Who've we got in the crowd today?" Roman asked. "Earthbenders, good, good. Water Tribe? Anybody Water Tribe? Yeah, I see you! Make some noise! And is that a Fire Nation guy in the back? C'mon, don't be shy!"

"Now." Scarlet clasped her hands. "To get to why we're here today."

"Now, we didn't all gather here for the lovely weather," Roman told his audience.

"When I look at all of you," Scarlet said, "I see people with dreams. Dreams of being more than just the stones beneath the feet of the benders."

"When I look at you," Roman said, "I see a bunch of people who are not getting their dues because the non-benders jut keep getting underfoot! And is that really fair?"

"You're every bit as special and valid as them!" Scarlet insisted. "And what do you get for it?"

"You are ACTUALLY special, unlike those guys!" Roman cried. "And what do you get for it?"

"Locked out!"

"Shut down!"

"Told to hit the road!"

"Tossed table scraps!"'

"And WHO is responsible for the decreased quality of your life?" Scarlet asked.

"Let me ask you one question," Roman posed. "WHAT is holding you back?"

"THE BENDERS!" someone in Scarlet's audience yelled.

"KILL NON-BENDERS!" someone in Roman's audience cried, and they continued from there as a chant: "KILL NON-BENDERS! KILL NON-BENDERS!"

"Whoa, whoa!" Scarlet grinned. "See, that's right…but it is also COMPLETELY wrong."

"Simmer down," Roman said with a hand gesture to indicate they should do so. "That sounds nice, but where is that really going to get you?"

"I mean, you could go on a rampage and destroy all of bender society," Scarlet suggested. "Looting, stealing – "

" – all that arson sounds like a good time, don't get me wrong," Roman stated. "But there's a better way. When I look out at all of you, I see a bunch of people with one single, common enemy."

"I see people with one single, common goal," Scarlet announced. "Because what's holding you back isn't the benders."

"It's the system!" Roman revealed. "The Earth King just sat up there in that palace and LET you be trampled on!"

"And now the new Earth Queen is doing the exact same thing!" Scarlet punctuated, drawing a gasp. "THAT is where your anger should go!" She pointed in the direction of the palace.

"I want all of you to take all that anger," Roman suggested, "all that rage, even the tiniest pet peeve you feel at the non-benders, and direct it right up at the people who keep perpetrating this!"

"Because THEY'RE the ones giving benders special privilege!" Scarlet roared. "Society is designed to prioritize the haves over the have-nots because it benefits the one on the throne!"

"Who wins at the end of the day if you fight each other?" Roman posed. "Not you, that's for sure! Before we tackle the infestation that is the bendingless, we have to cut off the head!"

"Now, I know what you might be thinking," Scarlet stated.

"It's impossible!" Roman said dramatically. "We could never! We'll all die if we storm the palace!"

"And, I mean, no plan is without risks," Scarlet said. "That's a given. This is a job for people with courage!" She raised her fist high.

"Brave people only," Roman stated. "No cowards need apply."

"But I assure you," Scarlet emphasized, "THEY CAN'T STOP ALL OF US!"

"They absolutely CANNOT stop all of us!" Roman laughed.

"Now let me hear you!" Scarlet cried.

"Who needs to go down now and go down hard?" Roman asked.

Both audiences, so far apart and so opposed in ideology, screamed, "THE EARTH QUEEN!"

That was when both Scarlet and Roman heard the cry of "THERE THEY ARE! ARREST THEM FOR TREASON!"

The palace's elite guard, dressed in vibrant green, was making its way through the audience, shoving people aside. The civilians would be for later. They'd been ordered to take out the rabble-rousers first.

"Oh, no," Scarlet squeaked.

"Shit," Roman hissed.

They were onstage in no time, surrounding Scarlet. She was ready for them. She always was. When a rock wall was launched at her, she dealt it a kick that cracked it right in half. Using the momentum from pushing off it, she launched herself at one of the military men, grabbing him by the arm and swinging him around as a weapon to bring down all of his fellows.

From the rooftop above Scarlet, gunfire began to pepper the stage; many guards evaded, but two went down in blood. Rémington cackled as he continued to let his guns blaze.

"REMY!" Scarlet cried to him. "LET'S MAKE LIKE A TREE AND RUN FOR IT!"

She leapt up; Rémington caught her by the hand and pulled her up alongside him. They ran across the rooftop, jumping to that of the neighboring building, and dashed.

Scarlet hastily dialed Roman, pressing the scroll close to her ear. "Come on," she mumbled. "Come on, Roman, pick UP…"

Roman parried the avalanching rocks from two guards with the edge of the Cudgel, then gunned a third man down. "WILL YOU GET OUT HERE AND HELP ME?" he screamed.

Aghoul didn't appear. What did was a flying skull that landed on the stage.

"See ya!" Roman saluted and turned to make a run for it. "Wouldn't wanna be ya!"

He dashed behind the curtain, tapping Aghoul on the shoulder; "GO!"

They were running down a back alley as soon as possible. "I'm making us a way out!" Aghoul announced, casting a Corridor of Darkness. "Next stop: the safehouse!"

The pair barreled closer to the Corridor's yawning dark mouth. It seemed that both would be home free very soon.

But at the last possible second, a well-aimed rock shot by one of Ursula's elite smacked Roman in the back of the head, tripping him at the finish line and laying him sprawled out in the alley.

Aghoul didn't even notice until he'd already entered the Corridor and dismissed the entrance.