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.

132. Those Who Can't Do, Teach

A/N: Mild blood and gore, but it's nothing compared to what came in previous chapters.

...

It had been agreed upon that the easiest way to explain the presence of the WHAM ARMY faction in Haven Academy was to pose all of them, barring Roman (who would be immediately recognized), as the faculty of the institution. After all, with Hannibal as acting headmaster, it seemed only fitting. And many of the regular Haven professors were Huntsmen on the front lines to fight the Grimm, making an easy cover story of rounding up some last-minute substitutes.

"And so we are agreed?" Vexen asked as they looked over the plans that morning of who would take which room.

"Yes, yes," Snatcher said in Frou Frou's accent, adjusting a gaudy fascinator hat over a blue wig. "Whatever Monsieur Vexen just said."

"To recap," Hannibal said, "y'all're goin' out there ta teach those kiddos a thing or two about REAL huntin', WHAM-style. Roman chills out in my office so no one catches on to Remnant's most wanted bein' up an' about. Then I'll schedule a little one-V-one conversation with Qrow Branwen an' we'll see if we can't get some info on what he's up to."

"I can hide in the closet if necessary," Roman told him, "but only in the literal sense."

"I would like to propose a single amendment," Vexen brought up. "I do not yet think Kokichi is ready to join our operation."

"What are you talking about?" Kokichi replied. "Of course I'm ready. I mean, I might end up blabbing our entire plan to a lecture hall, but I'm so totally ready to get in on the big action."

Neo made motions as though strangling someone in midair.

"Roman!" Kokichi pointed to her. "See how she's miming about killing you when your back is turned?"

Zorg had to hold Neo's collar to prevent her from actually strangling Kokichi.

"You're not saying I have to share a room with this dipshit," Roman groaned.

"I am," Vexen replied, "in fact, stating outright that you have to share a room with this figurative plunge into fecal matter."

"…Don't ever try to smartify 'dipshit' again," Roman sighed.

"You're not being very nice, Dad," Kokichi taunted. "A good dad wouldn't call his kid a dipshit."

"Technically speaking, I didn't," Vexen huffed.

"Don't talk to your parents with that tone, young man!" Drakken scolded. "One more insult out of you, and – and you're grounded!"

"As in I can't leave this room for the whole day?" Kokichi scoffed. "Wow, that is definitely a step down from the previous plan!"

"I'll wrangle the kid," Hannibal vowed. "Y'all just go out there an' act normal."

This earned him several concerned stares.

"Right," Hannibal corrected. "Y'all just go out there an' act like WHAM ARMY."

This was met with more nods and assent, and one by one, the teachers filtered out of the office. Hannibal assumed the form of Leo, Roman plopped down into a nearby chair to check his scroll, and Kokichi began laying out a pack of cards in Solitaire formation on the floor.

"Okay," Roman announced, "so we have a lot of spare time and I have a search engine in my hand. Currently offering for any search you've ever wanted done but didn't want in your browser history. Because I GUARANTEE you mine is worse."

"Hmm." Hannibal thought this one over. "How to make baked beans with bacon from scratch."

"You're sick," Roman told him as he typed it in. "And also don't understand the offer I'm making. That only looks bad on YOUR scroll."

"Sick is as sick does," Hannibal replied, "an' I'll remind ya Chase Young used ta eat dragons ta keep 'imself from turnin' into one. How's me enjoyin' beans no different?"

"Touché." Roman handed over the scroll, the results displayed. "Okay, Liar Liar, you're on deck for after the Mean Bean is done with his study in cannibalism."

Kokichi didn't respond. Because he wasn't there. And the door was wide open.

"SHIT!" Roman cried. He bolted to the door –

"I wouldn't," Hannibal warned. "'Less you wanna bring the pigs to bust down our doors."

"Ffffffff – " Roman slammed the door shut. "Okay. So. The fucking kid is on the loose, and I'd say he's gonna blow our cover, but honestly, I have no idea WHAT he's gonna do at this point. I can't leave here, YOU sure as hell can't leave me alone in here – "

"I say we let 'im do what he does best," Hannibal suggested.

"Oh. You mean RUN OUR ENTIRE PLAN THROUGH THE MEAT GRINDER?"

"Attempt to." Hannibal grinned a most un-Lionheart-like grin. "After all, I been lookin' for a challenge. Let's see what he can say that I can't take back later with some clever shape-shiftin'. Even if it means turnin' into him to say somethin's a hoax."

Roman pondered that, then let himself relax a bit. "Okay. You've convinced me. If only because I wanna see just how far you can go in the diplomacy department." He stole a glance to where Kokichi had been sitting moments before. "Left his cards…hm. You ever play Khanhoo?"

"You say that like I ain't practically invented the game. I'm an old-timer, Roman."

"Then put your money where your mouth is, Mean Bean."

...

"Now, at first," Spinel explained as she led Harley, Yang, and Giovanni down the alleys of Hellawes, "I thought he was just an ordinary one of you human sort. But then he clearly revealed himself to be a Sandstone, and not only that, but the only male example I've ever seen!"

"That's someone from your world," Yang clarified.

"A failed experiment by Yellow Diamond to compete with Blue's Lapises for the terraforming market," Spinel explained. "Not true Gems. More like living science experiments. They had the power to shift shape as though completely made of sand."

"You sure this guy's one of those?" Giovanni asked. "I mean, we've been learning about a lot of weird multiverse stuff lately, so maybe it's just a coincidence…"

"Are you saying I don't know a Sandstone when I see one?" Spinel folded her arms.

"Well, ya did just say they ain't usually guys," Harley reminded her.

"LOOK, LOOK, LOOK!" Spinel pointed excitedly. "THERE HE IS!"

He was a well-built man, tall and muscular, with light brown hair and a square jaw. He furtively looked around to see if he was being observed, and the quartet of not-quite-heroes ducked around a nearby corner to evade his line of sight.

"You sure that's the guy?" Giovanni whispered.

"Cross my Gem and hope to shatter!" Spinel hissed back. "Look!"

And before their eyes, the stranger shifted, the surface of his clothing – which wasn't real fabric at all – rippling to fade out the green stripes he'd been wearing and replace them with an old-fashioned dress-blue sailor uniform ripped right out of World War II, complete with garrison cap.

"Well," Yang remarked. "You don't see that every day. Then again, you also don't see a lot of people walking around here dressed as jesters."

"Heyyyy!" Harley lightly backhanded her.

"So what's the plan?" Giovanni whispered.

"I've been keeping an eye on that one," Spinel whispered back. "He's planning some sort of robbery on a guild in the midst of the city. If we can horn in on his plans, then – "

"Hey, you lunkheads talkin' about me?"

Harley, Yang, Spinel, and Giovanni all screamed. As they'd been whispering, the man had slithered around to stand at full height above them – and boy, did he tower, matching Giovanni for height.

"Uhhhhhh hi!" Harley nervously put up a hand and waggled the fingers.

"You guys're gonna sell me out to the heat, ain't ya?" the man in the sailor uniform of sand guessed.

"What, us?" Yang played innocent. "Do that? Nooooo."

"We were actually wondering if we could help you!" Giovanni chirped. Then, furrowing his brow dramatically: "For a cut."

"Huh." The man thought it over. "So ya know. Geez, thought I was bein' subtle."

"Not in the LEAST!" Spinel informed him. "You threw a rock made of compressed YOU through the front window of the guild to test their security and then literally scattered when the guards came running!"

"You SAW that?" The man gaped.

Meanwhile, Harley was trying to place why his voice sounded so familiar. She'd never met him in her life; why was this ringing such an odd bell?

Giovanni cackled; "You're an even bigger loser at the villain game than I am!" He flinched. "No. Wait. WAIT. FORGET THAT PART!"

"So you guys're a buncha crooks, too," the man figured. "Guess I shoulda seen that comin'. Can't deny I could use the help, either, much as I hate to admit it." He rolled his eyes. "Fine, you can help; just don't take more than fifty percent!"

"FORTY!" Giovanni barked.

"You're supposed to negotiate for a HIGHER percentage," Yang told him.

"Sold for less than forty percent!" the stranger declared.

"Ain't like it matters," Harley sighed. "We ain't even here for the loot. I think…we might be here for you."

"Huh?" The stranger tilted his head. "What's that s'posed to mean?"

"Look," Harley told him. "We know y'ain't from around here. An' look at us! We ain't, either!"

"Ohhhhh," the stranger realized, "so you're characters in his dream, too!"

"Wait." Yang flinched. "What?"

"I got this pal, ya see," the stranger told them. "Or…y'know what? It's a dream. Won't matter if he hears this sleepin'; he'll forget it wakin' up. I got this crush. Real sweet guy once ya get past the static-electricity exterior. He's asleep, an' I'm in his dream right now."

"Are you serious?" Giovanni whined. "All this came from one of the people on your list?"

"That ain't right," Harley muttered. "You don't belong. No way somebody from your world'd come up with somethin' like this."

"It's gotta be him." The stranger shrugged. "I don't dream. Haven't since the transformation. Got no brain, see?"

"Oh, we figured out THAT part a while ago," Spinel scoffed.

"So process of elimination!" the stranger declared. "He's dreamin', an' the rest of us're in it. Wish I could figure out where he got all this fantasy-lookin' stuff, though…didn't strike me as a Lord of the Rings type…"

"Oh boy," Harley sighed. "I think I know what's goin' on here. It ain't his dream. You're here, all right. Ya saw some goth chick with a crystal staff lately?"

"Oh, yeah!" the stranger recalled. "And then there was that black void thing – man, I hate superheroes."

"That was no hero," Giovanni seethed. "It was the most FOUL AND FIENDISH of villains, and not in the way we even like!"

"She's been goin' after…a certain type a' people," Harley explained. "You an' your crush musta been – "

She gasped. "I GET IT NOW!"

The dream. The request she'd heard, to come find him, in the city of Hellawes. And now she knew why two out of the other three had sounded familiar, too. She mustn't have met the third yet, which meant…

"Your fella!" Harley pointed at him. "He's in some kinda tiny li'l village up north, right?"

"How'd you – " The stranger shook his head.

"Long story," Harley told him, "but you're definitely awake, even though this is…definitely a dream. An' I just had a dream IN a dream that showed me that I got – " She sighed. "Y'know what? I can't even explain this right now." She turned to Yang and Giovanni; "Long story short, there's three other people we're lookin' for kinda nearby. Saw 'em all at the inn when I was…sleep-sleepin'."

"Is it time for…AN EPIC QUEST TO REUNITE OUR CRIME SYNDICATE?" Giovanni gasped.

"Sure might be," Harley said with a nod. She returned her attention to the stranger, beaming; "So! Ya wanna join a crime gang that don't do the heavy stuff?"

"WOULD I?" the stranger replied. "Oh, man, you wouldn't believe…my pal an' I, we just had to leave another gang 'cause they went too hardcore. Also, the boss was a jerk to 'im for no good reason!"

"Sounds PERFECT!" Harley clasped her hands. "We can all become friends soon as we get outta here!" She then extended a hand forward; "Name's Harley Quinn. These are my pals Yang, Giovanni, an' Spinel! What's your name?"

"Flint Marko!" The stranger, who was no longer a stranger, reached out to clasp and shake Harley's hand in his very firm grip, and Harley could feel through her gloves that the texture of his hand wasn't at all human, but rough like an emery board. "But you fellas can just call me 'Sandman.' Suits my crime aesthetic better."

"Um." Giovanni pointed at Sandman. "I thought your crime aesthetic was that tacky sailor suit. Which, I mean, I'm not JUDGING, but – uhhhh – it's the good kind of tacky?"

"Oh, this?" Sandman let go of Harley's hand to gesture at the uniform he'd conjured. "See, I've been tryin' to rob the shippers' guild. Richest folks in the city. But I ain't gettin' past security even disguised as an ordinary pile o' sand. Too much snow for that gambit to work. So I thought I'd blend in by dressin' up as a sailor."

"That isn't how sailors dress here," Spinel chided.

"You got a better disguise in mind?" Sandman retorted.

"Maybe not a disguise," Harley told him. "What about a distraction? Could ya send security out front, then slip in while they're dealin' with whatever made noise?"

"Can't be in two places at once," Sandman told her. "Tried that on a couple heists. Learned the hard way."

"Well, now you don't have to," Yang told him. "You've got accomplices to do that for you."

"Hey, Yaaaang…" Harley nudged her. "You sayin' you in?"

"I'm saying I wanna see where this goes," Yang clarified. "We need him, and this is probably the best way to prove we're all on the same side here. So. Say we got you a diversion. What's the plan after that?"

"I got it all cased out," Sandman revealed. "Port's got a warehouse with a tunnel to a cave out front of the city. Leads straight to the road to where my pal's holed up. We get the goods through that an' we're home free. Though I ain't given much thought to who I'm gonna sell 'em to yet. Dunno who'd buy 'em."

"Yeah, that village didn't look like a place for big buyers in my dream-dream," Harley sighed.

"Well, what about the guild?" Giovanni asked. "Classic gambit: we sell them their own stuff back."

"That's stupid," Spinel huffed.

"So stupid," Harley and Sandman said in unison, "IT JUST MIGHT WORK!" Then, realizing what they'd done, pointed at each other with finger-guns; "AYYYY!"

"I mean, there are five of us," Yang pointed out. "We assign a person or two to distraction, a person or two to looting…"

"I think the person who sells it back should be the one who seems the most innocent," Harley suggested. "Maybe…a Huntress-in-trainin'?"

"ME?" Yang flinched. "You want ME to sell stolen stuff back to the people we stole it from?"

"I already know ya drink underage!" Harley pleaded. "And ya beat up randos! C'monnnn, join the crime side!" She gave Yang her best puppy eyes.

"I don't beat up randos," Yang corrected. "I beat up people who have it coming."

"And this guild got it comin'!" Harley begged. "They're CAPITALISTS!"

Yang raised a finger and opened her mouth as if to argue the point – then shut herself up, saying instead, "You know, you raise a very good point."

"Look," Sandman admitted, "it's for a good cause, okay? I mean, normally I'd just wanna take the cash'n'run, but…my pal can't leave the place he's holed up in, an' I wanna get him somethin', dunno what yet but anythin' that can help him out."

"That is so sweet!" Giovanni's voice trembled.

"Are you tearing up?" Harley asked him.

"NO, YOU ARE!" Giovanni yelled defensively.

"All right." Yang nodded. "You four divide up heisting versus distracting, and I'll make the sale back. For your buddy, of course."

"I think you're gonna like crime once ya try it," Harley urged. "Worked for me! Made me realize I was goin' about it all wrong!"

"We'll see." Yang smirked, giving a flirtatious wink. "We can talk whether or not I need a themed sidekick outfit after we make the transaction."

"Ya wouldn't be a sidekick," Harley said suddenly and sternly. "Full partners, with rights ta walk away whenever the water gets too hot, or no deal."

Because she remembered who had offered her the position of "themed sidekick" before.

"Can we just get to the FUN part?" Spinel groaned.

"YOU!" Giovanni pointed at her.

"Me?" Spinel pointed at herself.

"You're EXACTLY the material for our epic diversion!" Giovanni told her. "You're partnering up with me. And we're gonna have some fun, all right!"

The sailors' guild was abuzz with talk of transactions both legal and illegal. But that buzz was soon interrupted when the sentries posted at the entrance to the building they used as home base rushed in to inform them they were under attack – by only two people.

"You're joking," one of them replied.

"They have artes the likes of which I've never seen," the sentry panted. "You'd better come quick. We have to deal with this NOW."

They all rushed out front to see Giovanni Potage and Spinel waiting for them – the former with his arms raised triumphantly and the latter bouncing to an unheard beat, barely paying attention.

"SHIPPERS' GUILD OF HELLA…" Giovanni realized he didn't remember the name of the city. "HELLA COLD TOWN!" Well, that was accurate, at any rate. "YOU ARE CURRENTLY IN THE PROCESS OF BEING ROBBED BY GIOVANNI POTAGE, THIEF EXTRAORDINARE! WATCH AS MY INCREDIBLE MAGIC LAVA MELTS THE VERY SNOW OF THIS TOWN THAT IS, IN FACT, HELLA COLD!"

A simple spray of tomato soup was enough to strike fear into the sailors' hearts, as it melted right through the snow and did look, for all the world, like magic lava.

"NOW GIMME ALL YOUR LOOT," Giovanni demanded, "OR THE NEXT BLAST IS GOIN' IN YOUR FACE!"

"Awwww, you won't even give me a chance to play with them?" Spinel whined playfully.

"MEN!" The sentry pointed a spear toward Giovanni. "TAKE THEM OUT!"

"If you insist!" Spinel chirped.

"I dunno," Giovanni said, losing the train of thought entirely. "I like to be asked POLITELY to go on a date, not forced to. And I'll warn you now I am one stone-cold asexual, so don't be expecting any FAVORS – "

The guild members charged with a battle cry.

"Oh," Giovanni realized. "You mean like that."

"Leave this one to me, Boss!" Spinel cried wickedly before leaping into the fray. And before the guild members knew it, they were falling victim to her springy body – tripping over a rubbery leg here, wound up by an arm there only to uncoil fast enough to send them spinning into the frozen river, kicked by a foot that shouldn't have been able to reach anywhere near.

"La-da, da-da-da-da-da da-da da-da-da-da-da-daaaaa!" Spinel sang as she pranced about, incapacitating guild members. "Your turn! La-da, da-da-da-da-da da-da da-da-da-da-da-daaaaa! Here we go, now! Da-da-da-da-da-da, dum-da-dum, GO AHEAD NOW! Da-da-da-da-da-da, dum-da-dum, GOOD GOLLY! Da-da-da da-da-da da-da-da da-da-da-daaaaa, YES!"

To the beat, Giovanni hurled orbs of tomato broth, cackling madly. His bat didn't get involved – he was just here to be a distraction, after all. They needed these people alive to sell to later.

And distraction he was. As was Spinel. Because with the entire Guild out keeping those two dancing, Harley and Sandman were quite easily able to sneak into Guild headquarters unnoticed.

"Okay, now to find the good stuff!" Sandman located a cluster of crates in a back room and began prying off lids. "Hey, I think this is that stuff that explodes when ya light it on fire. Saw some people messin' with it earlier."

"Flamestone?" Harley realized. "Nonononono! Don't take that! We dunno if Eizen got here before us! He mighta sold it off; we don't wanna horn in on his biz!"

"Who's Eizen?" Sandman asked.

"Our designated pirate captain," Harley replied.

"YOU GUYS GOT A PIRATE, TOO?"

Harley struggled to open a crate; Sandman transformed one arm into an overlarge crowbar and easily pried up the lid, nails notwithstanding. Within this one lay a whole lot of gleaming red ore that definitely wasn't the stuff Eizen had shipped in.

"Gol-ly." Harley gaped. "That sure is some shiny stuff. Gotta be worth a few thousand, don'tcha think?"

"We're takin' this," Sandman decided, enveloping the crate in himself.

They managed to sneak it right out the front door thanks to the brawl; Harley gave a sharp whistle to alert Giovanni and Spinel that the scheme was done.

"I was just having fun, though," Giovanni muttered under his breath. Then he put up his hands in a gesture of surrender; "OKAY, PEOPLE, NEVER MIND! ROBBERY OVER! YOU BEAT US!"

"Beat us you did," Spinel conceded, much more convincingly. "And now, we're going to beat IT!"

She looped a springy arm around Giovanni thrice and bounded up to a rooftop with him in her clutches, taking them both out of sight but not out of mind. The Guild members began to pursue them, splitting up throughout the streets of Hellawes, but the pair was already enacting a parkour escape to hustle to the rendez-vous point near the docks.

Sandman had done well at finding the smuggling tunnel; an unassuming warehouse led to a rock-hewn passage that brought first Sandman and Harley, then Giovanni and Spinel, out to the pillowy plains of snow outside the Hellawes walls. "The hideout's off that way," Sandman explained, pointing.

"Huh?" Yang, who had been leaning against the wall, pried herself off. "You guys done already? I thought you'd wanna stay and ham it up some more!"

"We only got so many hours before the Van Eltia takes off," Harley reminded her. "And we mighta just got a way more crowded schedule, if my instincts're right about that dream-dream."

"Remind me again?" Giovanni prompted.

"I dreamed about Sandy tellin' me ta find 'im in Hellawes," Harley explained. "Then I saw – heard – his buddy in the other village. Then two others, still got a snow motif, so I think they're around these parts of the map somewhere. Pretty sure we should pick 'em up before the Van Eltia shoves off."

"Right." Yang nodded. "That makes about as much sense as anything else that's happened, so I'm just gonna go with it. Anyway, I'm gonna go sell the guild back their stuff now."

Harley could've kicked herself; she was about to ask a one-armed woman to carry that heavy crate back all by herself! "Hey, Yang, ya need a hand with – "

"Nope; I got it!" Yang kicked up the crate, bounced it on a knee, and all of a sudden was balancing the unwieldy box on her shoulder, clutching it with the one arm she had as she strode around the Hellawes wall to get back through the front gate.

"Every time I think she can't get hotter," Harley said wistfully as she watched Yang leave, hoisting the heavy crate.

"So, Sandman!" Giovanni asked, knowing they'd have time to kill. "How'd you come up with the name 'Sandman' for your villainsona?"

"Well, ya see," Sandman answered without a trace of irony, "I'm made outta sand."

"I see."

They let Yang right back into town without a question, and she carried the crate back to the guild headquarters, where things seemed to have calmed down after the staged robbery that was actually a real robbery. They admitted her through the front door, where she caught a glimpse of a familiar set of broad shoulders topped by a streak of blond.

"What do you MEAN it's worthless?" Eizen demanded, hands balling up into fists on instinct.

"I mean the market's already inflated with flamestone," the guildmaster replied. "We have more than we can know what to do with. Even if Lady Teresa wasn't cracking down on the flamestone trade, this would be worth only about a hundred gald a crate at most."

"A HUNDRED GALD?" Eizen sputtered. "That's piracy, and I would know."

"Hey!" Yang sidled in with her own crate. "Bad luck again?"

Eizen let out a long, drawn-out sigh. "It seems the Reaper's Curse has struck in trade matters. I can't even earn enough back off our shipment to pay for the crew's supplies going out!"

"Wow, that sucks," Yang told him. "Maybe if my crate's worth something, I'll let you have a piece. We're friends now, right?"

Eizen let out another frustrated sigh. He had no idea what was in that crate, but he also knew far better than to point out the sudden appearance of a mysterious crate full of potential valuables. He only hoped Yang wouldn't be met with such highway robbery as he'd been slapped with.

Yang set down the crate, pulling back the lid to reveal the red inside, and the guildmaster screamed.

"What?" Yang asked.

"VERMILI – " The guildmaster forced himself to hush. "Vermilion ore?" he asked in an awed whisper. "Where did you get this much? With this, we could double our supply!"

"I just got lucky!" Yang replied. "So, I'm thinking for a starting offer – "

"I'll give you six thousand for that crate alone," the guildmaster said flatly.

"TAKE THAT DEAL!" Eizen urged hurriedly.

"Okay, okay, sold!" Yang replied. She wasn't sure the exchange rate between gald and lien, but she did know how much more six thousand was worth than one hundred. And she had to bite her lip to keep from laughing as the guildmaster forked over exorbitant amounts of glittering coins in order to get the exact same crate back that he'd had beforehand.

As Yang and Eizen left, Eizen remarked, "It's not often I have a stroke of luck like that. It makes me think there's only worse to come."

"I'm gonna let you in on a secret," Yang said, as they were out of earshot from the guild. "That back there? Nothing to do with luck. We pinched it out of that building and sold them their own crate back."

Eizen had to stifle a laugh. "I'm surprised you got away with that."

"That's what I'm trying to tell you!" Yang urged. "You might have bad luck, but if you and your friends have SKILL, it doesn't even matter. Y'know what? Qrow isn't here. You'll never meet him. He can't hear me. Okay, so I'm, like, ninety-nine percent sure based on circumstantial evidence that my uncle's Semblance – that he has a curse like yours. Bad luck all day every day. So I gotta counter it by being good at what I do. Still gives him way too much of an advantage in video games."

"Skill to counter bad luck," Eizen repeated.

"Stick around with me, and you'll get more of it," Yang told him. "Speaking of which, how much will you need to stock up the crew? You can't have more than half."

"That was your win," Eizen told her. "If I leeched off it, it would go against my personal code."

"Okay," Yang suggested, "so why don't I buy something from you?"

"What do I have that you'd want to buy?"

"Time," Yang told him. "Harley and I have some business in wherever this place is, and we don't know how long it's gonna take. If the ship takes off, we're stranded up the snowbank without a shovel. Three thousand gald and you stall that ship until we come back."

"The reason we can't wait for you is because there's a definite risk you might die of foul play and we'll never know," Eizen informed Yang. "We'd keep the ship docked and waiting for days, then whatever took you out finally makes its way to us."

"So I won't die," Yang told him. "Do you want your three thousand or not?"

After a pause, Eizen said, "I'll see what I can do. Aifread lets me have a lot of leeway. I can probably buy a lot of time thanks to my reputation. But if enough time has passed where we can safely say you're dead or you've run, I won't hold out for you anymore."

"Fair." Yang passed over the agreed-upon amount of coins.

"Where are you going anyway?" Eizen asked.

"A village up north," Yang replied. "Harley's got kind of a good feeling about it. Then I guess we're looking for a couple other places around here."

From within a pocket, Eizen withdrew a rolled-up parchment, handing it off to Yang. "Take this. It's a map of the area. For what it's worth. Consider it part of our deal."

"You're not half bad, Eizen," Yang told him, and she would've given him a friendly punch if she hadn't needed her only hand to hold the map.

Eizen just chuckled, trying not to let Yang see his smile.

Yang returned to the rendez-vous point outside Hellawes with coin in hand. "This is only half of it," she explained. "The other half's covering our cost of living on the Van Eltia. And paying for our seats so they don't take off unless Eizen's SURE we're dead."

"See?" Harley spread out her arms. "You're takin' to the crime life already!"

Yang tossed the coin pouch to Sandman. "So. What now?"

"Uhhhh…yeah, this is the part where I dunno the plan," Sandman admitted. "Like I said, my pal can't exactly leave our hideout."

"Why not?" Giovanni asked. "What, is he shy or something?"

"More like…can't touch snow," Sandman explained. "We're lucky we woke up – er, fell asleep where we did in here, or it woulda got nasty."

"Well, search me," Spinel commented. "I'm only just figuring out how snow even works. Is this accurate to how it is in the waking world?"

"Pretty much, yeah," Giovanni told her. "So this guy. How about we just meet up with him first and have a big old evil brainstorm together?"

"Hey, I'm not evil," Yang pointed out. "I'm morally dubious at best in this case."

"Yeah, don't go taintin' her with your labels!" Harley snapped.

"Well, sor-ry!" Giovanni huffed. "A big old CRIMINAL brainstorm! That better?"

"Yep," Yang told him.

"I won't lie," Sandman admitted. "I've been worryin' about 'im. It happens when you like somebody, y'know?"

"Oh, Harley definitely knows," Spinel volunteered.

"Shut uuuuuup," Harley groaned.

"Aww, are you seriously worried about me?" Yang teased. "Trust me. I'm armed and ready."

"DID YOU JUST – " Harley broke out laughing loudly enough to echo against the blank sky.

"Just don't tell 'im what I said, okay?" Sandman muttered. "Good thing we figured out this wasn't a regular dream before I let the cat outta the bag."

They hiked a few miles down a snowy path; along the way, Spinel couldn't help but marvel at how her shoes sank into the deepening snow, and Giovanni taught her how to make a snowball and launch it at Sandman when he wasn't looking. Though she figured out on her own how to blame it on Harley, which started a brief snowball skirmish until Giovanni confessed.

Yang and Harley pored over Eizen's map of Northgand together, trying to pinpoint where else Harley's dream had shown her. "It'd be easier with a local," Harley admitted.

"Well, you said there was something like a pit of lava, right?" Yang pointed. "That volcano looks pretty suspicious. Only pit of lava I can imagine in a snowy wasteland. That would put this town right between us and it." She tapped a few crudely-drawn buildings labeled "Meirchio." "Maybe that's the lights you saw?"

"Could be!"

They entered the village of Beardsley, which, all considered, looked rather desolate in its threadbare wooden buildings situated on the nadir of a growing mountainside. Sandman led the group right through the small town and out the gate on the other side, then further up the mountain until they reached the entrance of a cavern that extended into the black void within the mountain.

"YO, ELECTRO!" Sandman yelled as they neared it; the cry echoed throughout the cavern.

There was a stirring. Then a humanoid figure, clad in a protective green suit, hustled to the entryway, framed by the cavern mouth, but stopping before he could hit the snow.

"Flint!" Electro sighed. "Did you – " He paused when he saw the others. "Who are they?"

"Don't worry about it," Sandman replied. "They're with us now. They're from the wrong side of the tracks, but they got limits, like us."

"Hi hi!" Harley waved. "I remember that name, 'Electro.' You were on my list, too!"

"So far, we're at a ten out of ten on the villain names," Giovanni noted. "What's your civilian name? And you'd better tell me it's got a horrible electricity pun in it."

Electro cringed. "'Electro' is my name now," he grunted.

"Ohhhhh." Giovanni's eyes widened. Then he snapped finger-guns at Electro; "Never fear! I respect preferred names and pronouns always!"

"Long story short, these guys know why we're dreamin' but in control of the dream," Sandman explained. "Guess I really am here, after all. That goth kid did some kinda magic thing, I guess?"

Electro cringed again, but this time, evidently in anger. "So she trapped me here," he seethed.

"Why can't ya leave?" Harley asked. "It got somethin' to do with that suit you're wearin'?"

A sigh of defeat. Then Electro reached up, disengaging his mask, and his luminous face crackled into view. The others gasped.

"Thatissoawesome," Giovanni squeaked.

"I've accepted this mutation as who I am now," Electro lamented, "but it limits me a lot. If I'm not careful, the snow outside could react with the electricity that flows through me. It would hurt, to say the least."

"Yikes," Harley muttered. "That's a problem, all right. And not one I'm sure money could solve in this scenario."

"I don't understand," Spinel admitted. "What would happen?"

"Snow is solid water," Harley explained, "and water plus electricity equals kaboom."

"Does it even still work that way in the Sleeping Realm?" Spinel asked. "After all, I'm here, and I'm not even ALIVE."

"It – " Harley had to think about that. "Y'know…it might not work that way! What if the rules are all bent here 'cause it's a dream? Hey, Electro! Why not just try steppin' out and seein' what happens?"

"WHAT?" Electro growled. "You're asking me to put myself through that pain WILLINGLY?"

"We got no proof it's gonna hurt," Harley told him.

"You have no proof it WON'T!" Electro retorted.

"Yeah, well…" Harley tried to think of how to phrase her argument.

"Look," Yang sighed. "Sometimes, to get where we want, we gotta try something that hurts. You wanna stay in that cave forever? Fine. Maybe that'll make you happy. But there might be a chance you could leave if you risked it. And I'm pretty sure your friend would be happier if you didn't tie him down here."

"That exactly," Harley realized. "I was just tryin'a figure out how to put it delicate. Guess I ain't learned my lesson from Ainsley an' Oncey…"

"Hey, DON'T PUT WORDS IN MY MOUTH!" Sandman snapped.

Electro, however, was thinking it over. "You're right," he realized. "But if this doesn't work, what then? I'll KNOW I can't leave, and that's even worse than wondering about it!"

"It might hurt worse in the end," Harley told him, "but at least you can get over it, then."

Electro nodded. "All right. We'll see if you're right."

"Just take it slow," Sandman warned. "Anythin' goes wrong, I'll be right here to – "

"JUST RIP OFF THE DAMN BAND-AID!" Giovanni screeched.

Electro's boots touched the furthest edge of the cavern that was still dry before it gave over to the white fluff. He re-engaged his mask, taking a deep breath. Giving Sandman a look, and receiving a hesitant smile that was probably supposed to be reassuring in return. Then he took the first step, crunching the snow beneath the boot of his suit.

Nothing horrible happened.

He took another step. Another. Another. This wasn't bad. So long as he was covered up. The real test would be figuring out if a stray tear in his containment suit would be the end of him.

The snow had begun falling, and Spinel gasped, still unable to not be fascinated with the way water half-solidified and rained down. It was the perfect timing, really. Maybe it had even begun to snow because Electro had needed this.

He reached up –

"Now wait just a minute!" Sandman cried.

Giovanni put up a hand toward him; "Let the fledgling villain spread his wings."

The mask disengaged, and Electro was looking up into the sky, watching the snow fall directly onto him without so much as a sizzle.

"Score one for dream logic!" Yang pumped her fist.

"I could've left all along," Electro realized.

"Eh, coulda-woulda-shoulda," Harley scoffed. "You're out here now, which means we can have some fun!"

Electro gave her a wicked smile; "What's your idea of fun?"

"We're gonna hike up to Meirchio," Harley explained. "See if somebody else I'm lookin' for is there. After that, maybe we go climbin' a volcano for kicks. Though this did all kinda prove somethin' I've been worried about. In a dream, time might not move right."

"That's a big reason I bought time with Eizen," Yang said with a nod. "It might take us way less time to get back than it should. Or we might miss the boat entirely because a one-day trip took us five months."

"But whatever happens," Harley went on, "I figured out the quickest path ta Meirchio is through these old ruins that're used for religious stuff. Whatcha wanna bet there's tons of old relics there they don't use anymore we could nab to sell off later?"

"So you do have the right idea of fun." Electro grinned.

"Well, what are we waiting for?" Giovanni urged. "LET'S GO RUIN SOME RUINS!"

...

The history class hadn't assembled for a week, not since their professor had gone to the battlefield to prevent more Grimm from entering Mistral's borders. Now they were gathered here, wondering what exactly to make of the plump woman decked out in mint-green who stood before them, smiling warmly. Deceptively so.

"Welcome, my dear, dear children!" Snatcher began, writing "Mme. Frou Frou" on the chalkboard in elegant script. "I am so grateful to take up the work of your most excellent professor and instruct you in the glorious history of our great nation."

He stifled a laugh as he said this. But it was really a testament to his acting skills that he was able to keep a straight face as he turned back and noted, "Oh, and please, do be welcoming to our new student, Mademoiselle Tulip Cheshyre."

Neo had taken on a whole new appearance for this one. Her hair now looked solidly pink, bordering on magenta, as it rose up from her head in a gravity-defying 'do that matched the alias "Tulip" very well. To everyone in class, she appeared to be wearing a lacy white tank top and matching shorts. Neo waved, and some of the others in the lecture hall waved back awkwardly.

"Now, on to business," Snatcher continued. "It seems to me you had left off before a very important examination."

"No, we didn't," someone piped up. "The test wasn't supposed to be for another two weeks of class. We haven't finished the book yet."

"Oh, no, you are QUITE mistaken." Snatcher tapped the stack of papers on the desk that he supposed belonged to him now. "Your previous professor left me strict instructions that you were to be tested today. Or is it that you want to question his authority over your classroom?"

(Obviously, no such curriculum had been planned. This was just a convenient way to get the students to keep quiet for an hour while Snatcher entertained himself reading a cheap paperback he'd found in the Mistral marketplace that looked so horrible, it was worth purchasing and reading for the roast alone.)

Most muttered. Neo shook her head.

"Mademoiselle Cheshyre wishes not to question these immutable instructions," Snatcher pointed out.

"She's not even – " someone attempted.

"Ah, ah!" Snatcher waggled a finger. "Your time begins now. No talking, lest I am driven to inform Monsieur Lionheart of your insolence, your utter disobedience."

Now everyone was starting to get the point that they were about to have a bad time, and Snatcher was reveling in it. He distributed the exams that he'd dug up from the previous professor's files, sheets that tested the students on three chapters' worth of material they hadn't read, and then retreated to his desk, prying open the paperback and laying his scroll on the shiny wood top.

Because the book was only half the fun. The scroll would be the real juicy stuff, but it wouldn't be a constant stream.

Neo discreetly slipped her own scroll onto her thigh beneath her desk, tapping the screen until she'd unlocked an app that tapped into the security camera footage from this classroom. Hannibal's new administrative credentials and Zorg's hacking had given her this power, and she intended to abuse it.

It wasn't long before she caught someone cheating, obviously leaning over to look at someone else's answers. So she texted Snatcher a heads-up.

The scroll on the desk vibrated, and he knew the name of his first victim. "MONSIEUR CHAMBERS!" he gasped dramatically. "I see you copying the work of Mademoiselle Potts!"

"Wha – !" the cheater cried. "How? You were looking at your stupid book!"

"Hey!" the victim cried. "You didn't say you weren't cheating off me!"

"I am afraid I must add a demerit to your record," Snatcher stated. "The headmaster will see this lapse in discipline and make a judgment accordingly."

Neo kept searching. Ah, now here was a good one: a student writing down a note saying "This bitch ugly" with a crude doodle of Frou Frou and passing it to another.

Scrolls buzzed, and Snatcher barked, "MONSIEUR JUSTICE! HOW DARE YOU SLANDER YOUR KINDHEARTED SUBSTITUTE PROFESSOR WHO HAS ONLY WANTED TO FURTHER YOUR EDUCATION!"

"How the FUCK did you know what I wrote?" the student yelled back.

"A demerit for writing such awful slander," Snatcher declared, "and for Monseiur Rigby, a demerit for reading it!"

"But I didn't even open the note yet!" the other protested. "I had no idea what it said!"

"A SECOND DEMERIT FOR BACKTALK!" Snatcher barked.

"HEY!" someone else yelled. "TULIP'S ON HER SCROLL!"

Neo made the scroll vanish from view, holding up her hands, turning them from palm to back.

"How DARE you slander our dear Mademoiselle Cheshyre while she attempts to take her examination in peace!" Snatcher cried. "A demerit for you as well, and I shall make an extra note to remove twenty points from your score."

"I WAS JUST POINTING OUT SHE WAS BREAKING THE RULES TOO!"

Neo tapped out another message urgently. Because someone was writing down a note saying "I don't think this is a real teacher. Something weird's going on."

"MADEMOISELLE CASH!" Snatcher screeched. "DETENTION IMMEDIATELY!" He pointed to the door. "LEAVE AT ONCE!"

The student who'd been about to document the incriminating evidence stormed from the room, bag in hand, muttering, "This is a sham anyway."

"AUTOMATIC FAILURE!" Snatcher informed her. "Of the examination if not the entire course!"

"This blows," someone said.

"DEMERIT!" Snatcher yelled before his scroll could even buzz.

"TULIP HAS GUM!" someone else yelled.

Neo opened her mouth wide, revealing no gum, and Snatcher took several points off that student's test before Neo closed her jaw and resumed loudly smacking the bubble gum she'd brought to set up that exact circumstance. Her pencil doodled idly on the exam paper as she steered the camera lens, looking for more transgressions.

And Snatcher was assured in what he'd known all along: that it was good to be the one on top.

...

The Sleeping Realm of Desolation, as Harley was currently traversing, was what the continent of Glenwood had looked like one thousand years ago. In the present day, a millennium after the dreamer had begun to dream Desolation, Glenwood appeared much different. For instance, the various -gands had collided together into a supercontinent with fewer seas to divide it. In what would, where Harley was, be a small pioneer village full of innovators, there was, in the waking world, a bustling metropolis: Lastonbell, city of artisans, presided over by its stone bell tower. And here, malakhim weren't called malakhim but "seraphim."

Harley, of course, had no way of knowing Lastonbell existed in the capacity that it did. Or that Mickey and Yen Sid were currently visiting it. And Mickey and Yen Sid, on the flipside, had no idea there were dreamers trapped in this world's sleeping counterpart, exploring the northern lands.

The mouse king and the sorcerer had come here for an altogether different reason: Glenwood was another of the places Eraqus had documented visiting frequently in his journals. And that was the clue that led them to Lastonbell, where the tower served as a vessel for the guardian seraph of the city, the Lord of the Land – a position that hadn't yet been established where Harley was.

This Lord of the Land, Sindra, kept watch over Lastonbell, the woods and meadows that surrounded it, and all of the people within the city walls. She had short-cropped sea-blue hair, and wore a robe of creamy off-white embroidered with mint-colored decoration. She stood atop the bell tower that served as a house for her spirit and allowed her to spread a domain of blessing over the land; Yen Sid and Mickey stood alongside her along the tower's roof. Together, they watched the sun set.

"Gosh," Mickey remarked, "now I see why Roxas liked doin' this so much."

"It is quite a beautiful view," Yen Sid agreed. "Sindra. Did Eraqus ever see this?"

"He did." Sindra nodded. "But I am afraid he did not find it so beautiful."

"Tell us about how you became friends with him," Mickey urged.

"He came here researching an ancient godly power," Sindra explained. "One he never found, and I could not help him attain. During that time, he enjoyed visiting Lastonbell, and his resonance allowed him to see me when others did not. That was how I met him, at first. Because in a sea of faithless people who lacked the perception to know I was there, he noticed me, and he asked how I was doing. He was already an old man by then, even though I've lived far longer than he has. He made for good conversation, and I invited him to return as he wished and stand here with me atop the tower.

"We talked about many things, but it always seemed to come back to one conversation: the malevolence of humanity. Though he called that force 'Darkness.' Perhaps you do, as well. Every day, I sensed this city strayed further from the seraphim's blessing, and its people shirked paying tribute to us seraphim. Because of this, I grew desolate and retreated from the public, hiding atop this tower as often as I could. And down below, I watched things get ever worse. Thieves and bullies, murderers and rapists…" She shut her eyes. "How do you know you are protecting something, if that something seems to always be in danger no matter what you do?

"Eraqus agreed with me. He had recently lost a friend – not to death, but to clashing ideals. This friend, one of his oldest and dearest, had let himself become taken over by malevolence, likely on his way to turning into a hellion – though he used the word 'Heartless' – very soon."

"Xehanort," Yen Sid realized. "Their clash, before Xehanort took Ventus under his wing, must have occurred before he sought out this city."

"He and I shared sorrows," Sindra went on. "Over the city that darkened a little more each day. Over the friend who had shunned all that is good. One day, I confessed to Eraqus that I was thinking of leaving Lastonbell. Even though my blessing would remain intact, I would no longer supervise the city. After all…it wasn't as though I had any impact. But I worried. Was I jumping to the wrong conclusion and too quickly? I wanted his point of view. And I will never forget what he told me then: that some things are too far gone to be saved."

Yen Sid could feel his heart becoming heavier. "And thus he gave up on Xehanort entirely," he realized.

"But maybe," Mickey theorized, "if he'd reached out, or been there to fall back on when Xehanort really needed help – I dunno, Xehanort's story always sounded so much like Riku's to me, an' Sora helped bring Riku back from the dark just by believin' in him!"

"Sindra," Yen Sid asked. "Did you ever take that advice and leave this city?"

"I did," Sindra confessed. "Years after he stopped coming here. I know not what became of him, though it seems you do. There was a little girl, Margaret, who had enough resonance to perceive me. She became my new and only friend. But as she tried to tell the congregation that my vessel was the tower and not the sanctuary, they branded her a religious heretic. The bullies came for her, and all of my hope for humanity was lost. So I departed. I could not stand to see her harmed any further. And perhaps, once I was out of the picture, she could learn to fall in line."

"But ya came back," Mickey pointed out. "You're here right now!"

"I am," Sindra lamented, closing a fist over her heart. "Margaret never stopped telling the truth, and now said there was no seraph in town. The congregation never cared if I was there, only that they had a symbol to be devout for. They shunned her. She lost every friend she ever had, and it was in my absence that she succumbed to the malevolence at her young age, becoming a hellion. The Shepherd appeared and attempted to quell her, to return her to her human state…he first tried to appeal to me to return to Lastonbell, and I told him no. But when I learned of his dealings with Margaret, I watched from afar. He did everything he could. The quelling process killed her. She'd been in a battle with another hellion. Her wounds bled out before my eyes. It was then I knew that I had made a mistake. Even if the whole city did not care for me, even if it was shrouded in malevolence, there was one person who needed me, and I turned my back on her."

Mickey and Yen Sid nodded. To their understanding, the "Shepherd" was a sort of Chosen One who had recently salvaged Glenwood from a shrouding Darkness caused by political and religious conflicts. The descriptions of him they'd encountered actually sounded strangely Sora-esque, and they had all faith he had honestly tried to save Margaret.

"Even though Margaret is no longer here," Sindra concluded, "I knew I could not walk away from my domain again. Someone will need me, and no matter how far Lastonbell falls, there will always be some part worth preserving. Which leads me to believe you were right as well. The things Eraqus gave up on because they were 'too far gone,' he could have saved, or found a piece of that was worth his time. His friend, he didn't have to abandon entirely. I understand the good he was trying to do, but while I acknowledge the fault was mine in Margaret's death…I cannot help but blame him a little, for putting those words in my mind."

"Thanks for tellin' us your story," Mickey told her. "An' we're sorry about Margaret."

"People are born and die," Sindra sighed. "In the end, I will see this entire generation to its end and witness the birth of the next. It will not matter. The only thing that will matter is that I do not abandon this city again."

"There is a part of your story that concerns me," Yen Sid realized. "What was this power that Eraqus sought, but could not find?"

"It was connected to his wishes to erase malevolence," Sindra related. "Legends say that long ago, there was a power buried at the monument called Artorius' Throne. A power of suppression, that allowed one with great resonance to take control of others' minds and strip away all of their sins. To create a perfect world."

"But would the people still have free will?" Mickey asked, dread growing in his stomach.

"No," Sindra related. "Their will would match that of whomever made the pact to release such power. But Eraqus wondered if it could be modified so that the people would be more than mindless drones. All he wanted was the power to purge the malevolence. In the end, it seemed such an arte never existed. I suppose legends are only that: legends."

Mickey and Yen Sid exchanged a very worried glance.

"Ya don't think…" Mickey asked softly.

"I do not want to believe he would go that far," Yen Sid replied. "And yet…it seemed there was no end to his pursuit of a better world."

"Whatever did become of him?" Sindra asked. "I assumed he had perished, when he stopped traveling here."

"He did," Mickey confirmed.

"I wish I could say I was sorry," Sindra replied.

And though Yen Sid still grieved, and always would for Eraqus, he told her, "I do not blame you for your ambivalence."

...

The Huntsman ended up baring his true face, birthmark and all, to a lecture hall of first-years. According to the lesson plan books, he was supposed to cover the hallmarks of a true Huntsman in training (as if he wasn't already aware of that truth, and it wasn't what they taught here), then take up one representative from each team present to battle a different Grimm that had been captured beforehand. In the cage before him was a Boarbatusk, squealing and pawing the cage floor angrily as it awaited whoever was foolhardy enough.

The Huntsman, however, wasn't so fond of that which he was supposed to do.

"Bravery," he related. "Responsibility. Strength of heart. These are the supposed ingredients of a true Huntsman. But in battle, where will these qualities take you? Nowhere at all. The true mark of a Huntsman is not in his beliefs or his will, but in his skill."

The class was very confused at this point; they were pretty sure this was not how it was supposed to go.

"Who here thinks they can best this Grimm I have in captivity?" the Huntsman asked, and several hands went up.

"Well," he said in response, "I regret to inform you that you are all wrong. To prove my point: lower your hand if you cannot tell me how to fell this creature in a single blow."

And all hands went sheepishly back down again.

"Let me show you the first and most effective method of slaying," the Huntsman said as he moved to unlock the Boarbatusk's cage door. "This rule is universal, no matter if you face a Grimm, a dragon, a house pet, or even a fellow human being."

"Uh, Mister?" one of the students piped up. "Aren't you supposed to pick one of us to – "

The Huntsman simply let the Boarbatusk out of its cage. His staff was in his hand immediately, and then there was a slash – a splash of crimson – and the Grimm fell to the floor.

"The jugular is the most effective method for instant death," the Huntsman related to the awed class. He tapped his neck; "Located here. As I said, know the anatomy of your foe and it will translate universally, save for more supernaturally-inclined beasts. I am surprised the Grimm are as simple as they are anatomically in comparison to the Heartless, given that they are formed from the same magical matter. But that matter is no matter. You are here to learn how to incapacitate, and the jugular, though the most effective and obvious method, will not always be the correct one. Can any of you name the nine other places that, when injured, will fell a foe in a single blow?"

No one answered, or even tried to.

"Your education to this point has been pitiful," the Huntsman grunted. "I shall have to demonstrate myself. To begin: though the skull is difficult to crack – "

And he went to work, dealing mortal wounds to the already-dead Grimm until he'd mangled it beyond recognition. At which point he swapped it out for one of the others in the back to continue the demonstration. The floorboards ran red with blood, the stench became almost unbearable, and those who were able to take notes despite it all had a nasty bout of vomiting onto the page they'd attempted to make diagrams on.

...

Step one in operation "treat Weiss like a normal person and everything will go fine": do her laundry properly.

Kazuichi Soda had failed step one.

Five in the morning saw him pacing around the kitchen, attempting to rehearse the way to break the news: "Weiss, I'm sorry, but I fucked up." He shook his head; "Nononono, she probably gets weird around profanity. Weiss, I'm sorry, but I SCREWED up. Huh. Should I blame it on somebody else? No, that's the Despair instinct talking. Or maybe I could blame it on Monokuma! Reverse despair! No, wait, we don't even HAVE a Monokuma, so that won't work. Okayokayokay. Weiss, I have…something to tell you. I have something to get off my chest. I have a confession to make!"

"So tell me already."

Kazuichi's scream was piercing as he whirled around to see Weiss standing behind him, a sardonic look on her face.

"Did you get any sleep at all?" Weiss asked.

"Sleep is for the weak," Kazuichi said without thinking. "What are you doing up? I thought you were tired – "

"Well, apparently, going to bed super early means you wake up super early too," Weiss related.

Kazuichi then reflected on what he'd just said; "Dammit, I didn't mean to say YOU were weak. I was trying to sound cool, and – "

"Are those my clothes?"

He froze. She'd just cut right through the very thing he was trying to rehearse for. Though, then again, maybe leaving the dress draped out over the back of a chair wasn't the greatest idea when he was trying to keep it from being seen.

"I – uh – no?"

Weiss crossed the floor to pick up the dress. Its silver-white sparkles were now a very radiant pink, the sort one might associate with nausea medication.

"I'm sorry!" Kazuichi sputtered. "I don't do laundry that often – I mean – shit, I wash my clothes, just…not OFTEN…okay, there's no way to make that sound good, but I didn't know all the pink stuff would turn it pink too, and I'm sorry, I know it's not your color but I – "

He broke off when Weiss began to loudly guffaw and wheeze.

"Um." Kazuichi wasn't sure what to make of this.

"Not what I expected," Weiss told him with a playful smirk, "but honestly, I couldn't wait to ditch this dress anyway. It came from my dad, and…well…I'm kind of trying to forget he exists right now. Turning it pink is kind of a nice 'screw you.'"

She turned to the coffee machine, beginning to pile grounds into it.

"So…" Kazuichi couldn't just leave that alone. "Your dad sucks?"

"Eeeeyup."

"He ever hit you?" The question left his lips before he even thought about it.

"Not usually," Weiss said casually. "He would aim for the emotional soft spots, more often than not. Though he did slap me shortly before I left. It's part of what made the tipping point."

"So you got away?"

"My dad was trying to keep me locked up in Atlas where he could monitor me," Weiss explained. "But, thanks to the only real friend I have in that household, I managed to escape. I just hope he never figures out what Klein did." The pot was bubbling. "Wait. Why am I telling you all this? You don't need my baggage."

"It's fine," Kazuichi assured her. "Sometimes we all gotta vent, y'know? My dad actually hit me, and I only learned that wasn't normal dad stuff a little while ago. Might explain some of my pent-up anger issues as a kid."

"Oh." Weiss regarded him with concern. "You got away from him, right?"

"Well, he's, uh…kinda…dead," Kazuichi admitted.

"Good riddance." Weiss nodded. "Not that I want my own father dead…but the fantasy has crossed my mind a couple of times."

"Geez, that's a mood. But yeah, I'm outta there. Fuck that noise. Dads are supposed to take care of us, right? So why are so many of them shit at it?" Somewhere along the line, he'd completely forgotten his assumption that Weiss was averse to profanity.

"Search me." Weiss shrugged. "I mean, Ruby's dad sounds nice, at least."

"Aw, man, he's the best! You gotta meet him sometime."

"I want to."

The pot beeped. It was ready, piping hot. Weiss poured herself a cup; "You want any?"

"Yeah, sure. I take mine black."

Kazuichi was handed a steaming mug of dark liquid while Weiss lightened hers with a balanced amount of cream and sugar. "Let's go outside," Weiss suggested. "Less chance we'll wake up everybody else by accident. I hear Qrow is not happy when he's tired."

"Wait." Kazuichi nearly slopped his coffee all over himself. "We're – we're hanging out?"

Weiss froze. "Oh," she said softly. "Too forward and too fast? Sorry. I'd blame the fact that I didn't have any decent human contact for weeks, but I'm not sure that's really an upstanding excuse. We did just meet, and I get it if – "

"I mean, I wanna," Kazuichi told her. "I'm…not sure how much we have in common, but any pal of Ruby's is a pal of mine!"

"Well, both our dads are awful," Weiss reminded him. "That's a start, right?"

They ended up taking the chairs outside; a thin strip of dawn was beginning to crack beneath the curtain of night sky. The coffee was lovely and bitter in Kazuichi's cup and creamy and sweet in Weiss'.

"So, tell me more about you," Kazuichi bade her. "I mean, if you want. If it's all sucky stuff you don't wanna bring up, that's fine. I just know I tend to overshare, so I wanted to give you the first shot before I went off about how my parents – I'm doing it already, aren't I?"

Weiss gave a soft giggle. "You really are cut from the same cloth as Ruby. I can see why you're a good friend for her. Would you wanna go first? I'd like to know some things about you, too, if we're going to be on the same team."

Kazuichi swirled his coffee cup about. "Not sure that's a great idea," he admitted. "I have a bit of a past. It's…not exactly the kind of thing a person can take in all at once."

Weiss nodded; "All right. However you're comfortable. But I won't judge."

Try saying that again when he'd told her how many people he'd killed. But he urged again; "Floor's all yours."

"Well," Weiss related, "I'm from one of the richest families if not the richest family in all of Remnant. We come from the kingdom of Atlas. I'm a middle child. My older sister, Winter, left the household a while ago to join the Atlesian military, and my younger brother, Whitley…the less said about him, the better."

"You said you had a friend there, though?"

"Klein Sieben." She smiled softly. "Our butler. He would always make me smile, even on the worst days." The smile faded. "I feel bad now, because before I met Ruby, I just took him for granted and let his work go to waste. I used to be kind of a brat. I'd like to think Ruby changed that, but for all I know, I'm still the same. So…apologies in advance if that's happening."

"Nah," Kazuichi told her. "Most stuck-up rich people woulda told me what they think of me by now, and you haven't said anything bad, so I think you're good. Though I don't mind if you say some bad stuff. I deserve it."

"Oh, please." Weiss rolled her eyes dramatically. "You think you're worse than I used to be? You sure missed my racist phase when I thought all Faunus were terrorists."

And you missed my murder phase, he thought in return. "I've been told I'm apparently a perv," Kazuichi replied in turn.

"Well, most perverts would've said something nasty to me by now," Weiss told him, "so I'm pretty sure you're good, too."

Kazuichi had to think that one over; had he really come so far?

She misinterpreted his silence. "Oh, you think I don't KNOW I'm attractive?" she teased. "Please. Everyone says things."

He was starting to blush. "That's not the point right now!"

"Not the point," she bragged, "but still true." She sipped her coffee delicately. "But I like your style, actually. It's…bright. There's not a lot of bright in Atlas." It actually reminded her a lot of Neptune Vasilias' gaudy colors, though she knew better than to say someone she'd just met reminded her of an old crush.

"Thanks!" Kazuichi grinned, baring his pointed teeth. "And I like yours. It's pristine and classy! It shows you're a woman with good taste!"

"Thank you!" Weiss beamed.

For a moment, they didn't know what to say next. So Kazuichi put his foot in his mouth; "What was growing up like for you, anyway? I mean, yeah, your dad was shit, but the expensive stuff had to be good, right?"

He knew the moment he'd finished that that was the wrong question to ask.

Or, apparently not, because Weiss just nodded. Mostly because she could tell he was being socially awkward rather than malicious. "Not worth it," she sighed. "Like I said, I was a terror. I thought I was entitled to things, and nothing ever made me happy. Ever since I found out my dad was only in it for my mother's name and fortune, the family fell apart, and…well, then I met Ruby, and she introduced me to Blake and Yang, and we became Team RWBY. And even though I got cut off from the family fortune, I didn't need it so much anymore. I was actually happy about things."

Then she scowled again. "But that part of my life was so big that I still don't know if this is who I am, either." A sigh. "I've been…changing, ever since things fell apart. It…starts with the unexpected loss of something dear. The warmth that comforted and cradled just disappears."

That sounded exactly like how Kazuichi thought of Kaito, so he volunteered up, "And in its place, there's nothing? Just an endless, empty hole? The light that showed the way is gone, and darkness takes control."

"Bitterness and anger are quick to fill the void," Weiss sighed. "The path to isolation is littered with the dreams that lay destroyed."

"The cold seems to grow in your soul," Kazuichi muttered. "It consumes you, confused, and you lose yourself in the storm."

"Growing jaded, being pushed, being pulled – "

"Unraveling."

"You can't find yourself when you're constantly forced to conform."

They met each other's gaze. "What happened to you?" Weiss asked softly.

"A friend hurt me," Kazuichi admitted. "And then I went off the rails. I did a lot of shit I regret, and I really, really can't tell you about that part right now, but…it was bad."

He didn't miss the way her eyes flicked down for a moment. She tried to play it off, but he tapped the faux leg; "This was just a lot of really bad decisions."

"Decisions?" Weiss said softly. "You – "

"It's not a big deal," Kazuichi huffed, turning away. "It's done. I have the fake one now." He sighed. "Man, that stuff you said. About not knowing who you are. That's how I feel all the time now. I'm trying to be a better person. I really am! But I keep changing no matter what, from a shy guy to a mean guy to a smart guy to a – a real bad guy. What if this isn't the end? What if the next one's worse?"

Weiss clutched her coffee cup. "I worry about the same thing," she admitted. "If anything else falls through…will I just become like my father? Is this who I am, or is this just another stop in the road?"

A shared silence, but not an awkward one in the slightest.

"I guess we'll find out," Weiss said at last. "Both of us."

"Yeah."

The silence returned, and after the cups were half empty, Kazuichi realized it had gone on too long, so he put his foot in his mouth again:

"Would you rather fight a hundred duck-sized horses or one horse-sized duck?"

Weiss wasn't sure how to react to that. "What?"

"I, uh…" Kazuichi was slopping the liquid around the cup again. "I dunno, this talking about our pasts stuff got all sad, so I thought I'd ask something fun, and I know you fight things a lot, so…" He sighed, glancing away. "Yeah, I know that's stup – "

"The horse-sized duck."

"Huh?" His attention was brought back to her immediately.

She was smiling brightly. "A mob of one hundred tiny horses would just get everywhere and be hard to control. One really big duck? I've taken bigger than that before. It wouldn't even be a problem." She laughed slightly, then said, "Thank you. I needed that laugh."

"Hey…anytime."

"So what about you? Duck or horses?"

"Oh, the duck-sized horses, definitely."

They found many more things to talk about, most of which were now as silly as strangely-sized ducks, until the rest of the apartment gradually woke up.

...

Mim hadn't wanted to pose as a teacher at all. She didn't like the thought of it. She'd spent the two hours prior to her first period trying to come up with all the awful ways professors could make their students miserable. That list included but was not limited to:

· Calling on people who weren't ready

· Making fun of people's knowledge gaps

· Testing them on chapters they hadn't read (but Snatcher had that one covered)

· Giving them demerits for things they hadn't done wrong (as much as Mim loved plagiarism as a concept, again, she wanted to keep it fresh from what Snatcher was doing)

· Rambling about oneself for hours (as if this wasn't what Vexen was going to do, down to the letter)

· Splitting up friendships and making the students sit across the room from each other so they could only stare wistfully at their best buddy

But in the end, none of these really appealed, because they meant Mim would have to be in a classroom, around young adults, and attempt to assume a caretaking role. And as much as she liked to toy with Hannibal, he wasn't the dominant one in this relationship anyway, and he ought to be reminded that she wasn't his employee – if anything, he was hers.

So she waited for all of her students to file in, and, once they were assembled, promptly announced that "You all fail" and left to go find something more entertaining to do for the rest of the day, leaving a wake of very confused students behind.

...

Ven and Papyrus decided their next best bet was to check out the old lighthouse on the far beach of the island.

They were deterred, of course, by a sign that said "Keep Out."

"HMMM." Papyrus thought this over. "NOW, SINCE THIS SEEMS TO BE AN EMERGENCY STATE, I MIGHT THINK IT WAS HIGH TIME TO DISOBEY THAT SIGN – HOWEVER, IF IT TURNS OUT THE LIGHTHOUSE WON'T HELP US, THEN I'D RATHER NOT BE IMPOLITE."

"I wouldn't wanna get caught breaking into a place we don't have to go," Ven agreed. "Maybe there are some other clues around the beach?"

"A CAPITAL IDEA!"

So they poked around the beach a bit, turning up mostly rocks and Dungeness crabs. After Papyrus had gotten his hand pinched in the third Dungeness claw, he was about to call off the search and suggest they go kayaking for a while instead, but that was when Ven called out, "I FOUND SOMETHING!"

The skeleton raced to Ven's side. The Keybearer gingerly handled a splintery piece of wood, stained red-brown, that had the words "S.S." emblazoned upon it.

"THAT IS REALLY COOL!" Papyrus' eyes were sparkling.

"I wonder if it's connected somehow," Ven mused. "It looks like it was broken off another boat. Maybe more than one boat got ransacked!"

"I LIKE THE WAY YOU THINK! NOW WHERE COULD WE TEST THAT THEORY?"

"Maybe Katie knows something about other whale-watching boats in the area?" Ven suggested. "Or Andy?"

They went to Katie first, and she tried to stifle her laughter. "This wouldn't be from anything recent," she informed the pair. "It looks really old. See how it – ouch!"

She'd tried to pick it up.

"Careful of the splinters," Ven warned.

"That's really weird," Katie murmured. "Old wood shouldn't be that sharp. The sea would've rounded the edges off. All the same, it's not from a modern whale-watching boat. I'm pretty sure that 'S.S.' stands for 'steamship.'"

"So something weird is going on with it," Ven realized, "if it shouldn't have splinters, but it does."

"I really doubt it's related," Katie admitted, "but if you wanted to check more into it, I have a couple of resources for you."

She disappeared into her boat for a moment, coming back up with a book and a slip of paper. "The number on this paper will take you to Casey Porterfield at the Maritime Library in Port Townsend," she explained. "If anyone can find out how this is relevant, it's him. He loves digging into historical things like this. But he'll probably want to know what kind of wood it is first, so you can use this book to help identify it."

"THANK YOU!" Papyrus took both items. "WE'LL RETURN THE BOOK ONCE WE'RE DONE WITH IT, OF COURSE."

"How's it going putting the boat back together?" Ven asked.

Katie sighed. "There's still a part I'm gonna be waiting on, and the debt won't be pretty, but at least I got the pipes put back together, and this book was in a big pile that the vandal just ripped out of my drawer. So that's organized neatly again. I guess we take this one step at a time."

"WELL, THAT'S ALL THE MORE REASON WE SHOULD FIND OUT WHO DID THIS," Papyrus resolved, "AND ASK THEM TO CONTRIBUTE TO THE COST OF FIXING WHAT THEY BROKE!"

Katie was taken aback. "That's usually not how vandals work."

"YOU NEVER KNOW," Papyrus told her.

"Good luck!" Ven called as he waved; he and Papyrus tread up to the main road.

They settled down on a roadside dune, sitting in the grass as they attempted to read the textbook, which was dense both in size and in content. "NOW, OF COURSE I KNOW WHAT ALL OF THESE WORDS MEAN," Papyrus said, "BUT IT NEVER HURTS TO GET A SECOND OPINION."

"I have no idea," Ven admitted. "I wonder…"

He flipped to the back page. "There's an author and a phone number!" he gasped. "Maybe we can call her and ask for help!"

"THAT'S A WONDERFUL IDEA!"

So they dialed the number of the scientist who'd penned the textbook, and were greeted with "Irina Predoviciu speaking."

"NICE TO MEET YOU, IRINA!" Papyrus greeted.

"If this is a solicitor," Irina said sternly, "whatever you're trying to sell me, I already have twenty."

"No, wait!" Ven said hurriedly. "We're not trying to sell you anything. We just had some questions about a book you wrote."

"A book?" Irina replied. "You are going to have to be more specific."

"WE'RE TRYING TO IDENTIFY A PIECE OF DRIFTWOOD," Papyrus told her.

"Ah, now that makes sense," Irina realized.

"And your book uses a lot of big words," Ven admitted, "so we thought maybe you could help us out?"

"I do have some spare time," Irina stated. "Let's begin. Just hold the sample up to the phone for twenty seconds so I can take a reading."

"OKAY!" Papyrus proceeded to do just that.

"I think that was a joke," Ven informed him.

"It was a joke," Irina confirmed. "I may be able to figure it out based on what it looks like beneath a microscope. You have looked at the sample beneath a microscope, haven't you?"

"OH, OF COURSE!" Papyrus lied. "LET'S JUST – CHECK OUR MICROSCOPE AGAIN TO MAKE SURE! I'M GOING TO PUT YOU ON HOLD."

To make it seem as though he had in fact put Irina on hold, he began to beatbox, holding up a hand to spell out letters in tiny bones: "MICROSCOPE?"

"I don't have one," Ven told him. "But maybe…we don't need one. There was a spell the Master taught us to shrink enemies, and I think it's what made me so small back in Cinderella's house. If I cast it on myself – "

The bones in Papyrus' palm spelled out, "CAN IT BE" and then "UNDONE?"

"It's temporary, so yeah," Ven told him. "You just gotta give me a couple minutes to grow big again. …Then again, it didn't exactly work that way at Cinderella's, but I'm sure it'll be different." He flinched. "But…if I don't grow again in five minutes, hang up and call Aqua?"

"YES" said the bones Papyrus held.

So Ven raised his Keyblade, summoning a whirl of golden light to surround himself, and now he was small as a mouse, approaching the driftwood.

"I CAN'T SEE THE MICROSCOPE VIEW YET!" he yelled up to Papyrus. "I'M GONNA GO SMALLER!"

So he shrunk himself a second time, and Papyrus, now very concerned someone (hopefully not him) might accidentally crush Ven, summoned up a dome of interlocking magic bones to temporarily cover the plank.

"I am beginning to suspect I am not actually on hold," Irina guessed. "I think you are just beatboxing."

But Papyrus' resolve remained firm, and he kept on mouthing the beat, all the while watching the bone dome with a pounding soul. What if something did go wrong?

Ven erupted back to full size, breaking apart the dome on his way to normalcy. "I got it!" he cried.

"AH, YES, DR. IRINA?" Papyrus said suddenly. "WE HAVE OUR MICROSCOPE VIEW."

"I truly hope this is worth it," Irina replied.

She asked them questions, and Ven was able to reply down to the last detail. "Ah, I see," Irina said once the questioning was finished. "So it is a tropical hardwood. Luan, to be precise. Does that assist in your curiosity?"

"It really does!" Ven told her. "Thank you!"

"A morbid curiosity compels me to ask why you want to know," Irina said.

"BECAUSE WE ARE TRYING TO SOLVE A CRIME," Papyrus told her. "THIS DRIFTWOOD MAY OR MAY NOT IDENTIFY A PERPETRATOR."

"And my curiosity grows ever more morbid," Irina admitted.

"We could call you back and tell you what we find out," Ven told her.

"I almost think I have to know the end result," Irina said. "Until then."

She hung up, and now they turned to dialing the number they'd been provided for Casey at the Maritime Library. The phone rang thrice before the voice of an elderly man answered: "Hello? Who is this?"

"Uh, hi!" Ven replied. "My name's Ven, and I'm here with my friend Papyrus."

"HELLO!" Papyrus waved at the phone, even though its video function would not work with Casey's line.

"We're friends of Katie Firestone, sorta," Ven explained.

"Never heard of her," Casey replied. "Now, if you'd'a said Katie Firestone, that'd be a whole 'nother ball of wax!"

"UM." Papyrus flinched. "WE DID."

"Well, well!" Casey replied. "A friend of Katie's is a friend of mine! Now how can I help ya?"

"We're here on Deception Island," Ven explained. "There was a vandalism that we're trying to solve. It might not be related, but we found a piece of driftwood on the beach that's not as old as it should be. It has an 'S.S.' on it."

"That means nothin'," Casey replied. "Now, if you'd'a said it had an 'S.S.' on it, which stands for 'steamship,' then that'd be interestin'!"

"OH, WILL YOU LOOK AT THAT!" Papyrus said through gritted teeth. "THAT IS ACTUALLY WHAT IT SAYS!"

"I'll bet you'd wanna know what ship went down that it coulda come from," Casey told them.

"Down?" Ven replied. "We thought maybe it was just vandalized like the other boat."

"Driftwood don't work that way," Casey replied. "That bein' said, if somethin' ain't right, always worth lookin' into! So what kinda wood ya got?"

"DR. IRINA SAID IT WAS CALLED 'LUAN,'" Papyrus told him.

"Oh, Dr. Maria is friends with my first cousin!" Casey replied, and neither thought to correct him. "I trust her, all right. So you wanna know what ship woulda had luan crates an' gone down by Deception Island. I'll get back to ya on it. Got a number I can call?"

"Yeah," Ven replied, and recited to him the GummiPhone's number.

"I'll have the records back to ya in about an hour," Casey told them. "'Till then, why not explore the island a little? Go out to eat at that one café…what's it called, again? The Royal Flush Inn?"

"WE ONLY KNOW OF THE HOT KETTLE," Papyrus informed him.

"Never heard of that one," Casey stated. "Though now that I think about it, the Royal Flush Inn actually got renamed to 'The Hot Kettle' a while back! It's a fascinating history. Anyway, you kids have fun!"

He hung up, and Ven said, "I guess there's nothing to do but wait for his call."

"I MEAN, WE CAN HAVE SOME FUN IN THE MEANTIME," Papyrus suggested. "I WAS THINKING ABOUT KAYAKING."

Ven was immediately on his feet; "Let's go see if we can rent a GPS and some life vests!" He extended a hand down, and pulled Papyrus to his feet, and the two were off.

It took them about an hour and fifteen minutes to gather all the required equipment for recreational boating. That was when Casey called back, and Ven and Papyrus took the call outside the rental shop.

"Pap and Venyrus, was it?" Casey greeted. "You're never gonna believe what I found on that ship! Only one record indicates a wreck in the Deception Island channel of a ship that carried luan crates. You're looking at the S.S. Whitechapel Dawn, which went down where all that orca fuss is these days."

"Great!" Ven replied.

"AWESOME!" Papyrus added. "THAT MEANS…" It sank in. "ABSOLUTELY NOTHING TO US."

"What's the part we won't believe?" Ven asked.

"The way the currents run around where it sank," Casey related, "there ain't no possible way driftwood should be comin' up from it! No way no how!"

"Not even if there was a storm?" Ven asked.

"OR A MISCHIEVOUS SEA MONSTER?" Papyrus added.

"Or a really powerful sorcerer?" Ven added.

"OR TIME TRAVEL?" Papyrus wrapped up.

Casey guffawed; "You kids an' your imaginations! Naw, ain't nothin' that coulda brought that wood up from the deep!"

"Is that really all that's weird about it?" Ven slumped.

"Pretty much," Casey told them. "It's just your regular old steamship otherwise. Smuggling rumors aside."

"THAT DOESN'T SOUND VERY REGULAR OR OLD," Papyrus pointed out. "WHAT WERE THOSE RUMORS?"

"That the ship was smuggling something," Casey related. "Didn't ya hear me?"

"What was it smuggling?" Ven asked.

"Jewels, furs, stolen goods – every witness tells a different story," said Casey. "Thing is, not a single fella died on that ship. All that went down was the boat an' the cargo. And nobody on board is verifyin' anything was off."

"But that stuff would still be there, right?" Ven realized. "If the boat couldn't come back up?"

"Well, I imagine so, though it'd be soaked through and through!" Casey laughed.

Ven and Papyrus exchanged a meaningful look.

"I dunno how that's related to Katie's boat," Ven stated, "but that seems like something that a person might do a lot of bad things to get."

"SUNKEN TREASURE IS DEFINITELY A VALID MOTIVATION," Papyrus agreed. "ESPECIALLY ILLEGAL SUNKEN TREASURE."

"Well, that's about all I can do for ya," Casey told them. "Enjoy your stay on the island! And if you run into somebody named 'Katie Firestone,' tell her I say hello!"

The line disconnected.

"You don't think Maleficent or Mozenrath is involved in this, do you?" Ven asked.

"WE CAN'T REALLY RULE IT OUT," Papyrus admitted. "WE ALSO CAN'T CONFIRM IT."

"We need to figure out more about this illegal sunken treasure," Ven mused. "We might be able to get a better look once we're in kayaks on the water!"

"THAT'S A WONDERFUL IDEA!"

And so they headed down to the beach to kayak for fun and justice.

...

Hannibal had been thoughtful enough to assign Zorg to a weapons-related class in which he was to discuss everything from upgrades to upkeep. When he saw his flock fill out the classroom, he was willing enough to teach them the ways of the master. After all, who knew weaponry design better than he?

"Well, g'mornin', all you bright'n'lovely faces!" he greeted. "Now, I'm gonna be your substitute professor for the time bein'. An' let me tell you, it is a pleasure. You can call me Mr. Zorg, or just Zorg if the mood strikes ya, don't bother me. Now, I see in today's lesson plan we're lookin' at upgrades: takin' your weapons to the next level. Why don't ya open your books up to page seventy-two?"

The sound of flipping papers was heard, and Zorg mirrored the gesture with his own master copy to see the diagram he was to show as an example. "Now," he began, "this right here is an example of – "

Then it really sank in, the simplicity of the blueprint he was looking at. He flipped to the next page. And the next. Then filed through the whole book.

"Well, then," he realized out loud. "This is all shit."

And he dropped the textbook right into the garbage.

"Change of plans," he stated. "Close those useless books. We're gonna talk weapon design from the heart. See, my superiors would have me show you how ta make a combo of two things into one, but why would ya ever, EVER stop at two? An' these designs, a lotta old-fashioned techniques; where's the flash? The flair? The bang? The lethality factor? No. Lemme tell ya how a real designer would do it."

He began to sketch out a hypothetical blueprint on the board: something much better and deadlier than anything the students were to learn of. Then some smart-aleck called out, "Actually, we just learned last period that according to the Weapons Regulation Ordinance of the war's end, that kind of thing would be banned. Not to mention it would be completely cheating at a Vytal Festival."

Zorg turned to face the student. "I'm gonna give you some words to live by," he stated, "and y'all better take this to heart now." He tapped on the desk to emphasize the three words he said next: "Innovation. Before. Regulation." Then, a dramatic shrug; "'Cause if the man's gonna tell you what you can an' can't do, then how's society gonna move forward? How is anythin' gonna progress? Jobs don't open up, economies stagnate, all over a subjective state of morality? That ain't how the real world works."

The students seemed to like this, and whispered excitedly.

They liked it even more when Zorg asked, "Now, who here can tell me the five most bombastic ways you've ever wanted to kill a man?" – or at least the show of hands indicated so.

...

Meirchio was tucked away in the hollow of a mountain's base, on the banks of an ice-covered canal. Its quaint stone buildings huddled together, covered with snow and adorned by exquisite hand-carved railings. Everywhere were lamps: in the windows, in the streets. Necessary, to overcome the mountain's shadow combined with the dark of the winter sky this far north.

Harley gasped with delight; "IT'S LIKE SOMETHIN' OUTTA A CHRISTMAS CARD!"

"Wait," Giovanni recalled. "Weren't you Jewish?"

"That don't mean I can't appreciate the Christmas aesthetic," Harley told him flatly.

"It does look pretty cozy," Yang admitted.

"Too cozy," Electro muttered. "This place looks like it could use some SPARKS!"

"OH, YEAH-HAH, NOW WE'RE TALKIN'!" Giovanni crowed. "What do we wanna do first? Spray-paint our names on the walls? Break some of the lamps? Or just get right to the stealing?"

"HEY!" Harley barked. "No crime until we find our pal who's lost here!" Then, under her misty breath: "And I got a pretty good idea who that is."

Giovanni, Electro, Sandman, and Spinel slumped, sulking like children at this declaration. "Well, you're no fun," Spinel huffed.

"Hey, at least we got some pretty sweet loot pillaging those ruins," Sandman remarked. And it seemed that here in the dream-world, they could simply tuck away whatever they stole, no matter how large, into a pocket dimension to be accessed later. Which was how they had gotten away with an entire altar that had a loose foundation.

"Coulda done without the hike through snow hell though," Giovanni muttered. "Seriously, I'm getting tired of this white-on-white color palette, Christmas aesthetic or no Christmas aesthetic."

"Just put up with it until the volcano," Yang told him (and he did brighten, remembering there was a volcano at the end of this). Then, to Harley; "Who do you think we're looking for?"

"You're gonna have to get ready for this one," Harley warned.

They asked around, giving a general description of the one Harley could swear had spoken in her dream. Gossip pointed them to the town church (or "sanctuary," as they called it), which wasn't immediately obvious to find at first. One had to enter another mountainside cavern, then hike up a small slope internally of the mountain, then exit onto a cliffside high above ground level to find where it had been hidden away.

"Definitely out-of-the-way enough to use as an evil base," Giovanni remarked. "I probably woulda headed for this place too."

"Congregation mustn't be in," Yang added. "Or she couldn't have gotten away with it."

Harley paused outside the sanctuary doors, raising a fist and knocking sharply. "HEL-LOOOOOOOO!" she called out. "ANYBODY IN THERE?"

A scuffling. Someone hurrying to get out of sight.

"NOT ON MY WATCH!" Electro hurled a massive burst of electrical energy at the doors, throwing them open with a loud bang. The group hurried inside to catch a thief in the very act of escape, her red eyes wide.

Realization set in as she recognized some of the group. "You?" Emerald greeted as she straightened up.

"Found ya, Emmy!" Harley beamed. "Whatcha been up to?"

"The portal that…that witch opened," Emerald sputtered. "I was thrown here without any warning or any sense of where I am. I've been taking what I need to in order to survive, but I've noticed that it doesn't feel as cold as it should. This is nothing like what I'd expect on Remnant. Even Argus is higher-tech than this. Where are we?"

"In a dream," Harley told her. "Sorta."

"A dream," Emerald repeated. "See, I wouldn't believe that…except for my Semblance. It works stronger here than it ever has before. Normally, I need to exert a lot of will to make two or three people see things. But here…it's like I can ask the entire town to believe whatever I want, and they just…do."

"Hang on." Giovanni put up a hand. "What was your Epithet, again?"

"My what?"

"Semblance," Harley translated.

"I can alter perception," Emerald explained. "Basically make people hallucinate things. Visual and auditory."

"You're the strangest Emerald I've ever met," Spinel remarked, "but I have to say that's more unique than most of them, blasting away on their warships."

"Now, that right there is one badass power," Giovanni commented. "You mean to tell me you can take things without paying and make people think you did pay?"

Emerald smirked. "You say that like it wasn't my M.O. before Cinder showed up."

"Yeah, about that whole Cinder thing." Yang would've folded her arms, but remembering too late she only had the one, she hugged herself around the waist with it instead. "So…that's over?"

Emerald sighed. "I'm…I'm sorry I did what I did to Beacon. I used my power to make Pyrrha Nikos think the robot soldier was a bigger threat than she was so she would overuse her own Semblance. Among other things. That…that girl haunts me. Logically, I know she was just a machine…" She looked away. "I don't blame you if you can't forgive me. I can't really say I've changed all that much. Just that I have regrets. But…I don't belong with Raven Branwen. Any more than I ever belonged with Cinder. All this time, I've just wanted…somebody to belong with." Her eyes flicked back up to the assembled group. "I thought maybe that could be you. But there's an obvious conflict of interest."

"I don't just take it at face value if someone says they're sorry," Yang told her. "They've gotta prove it. By showing back up when we need them most. By doing their part to make up for what went wrong."

Emerald flinched.

"But you know what?" Yang went on. "If I can't keep tabs on you, I won't get to see whether you do those things or not. Guess I gotta stick around, huh? Make sure you mean what you say?"

Emerald was utterly taken aback. "I'm sorry," she told Yang. "I ruined everything for you, and – "

"Geez, will you just quit apologizing already and join up with the group?" Yang sighed.

"And you are saying," Giovanni broke in, "that you can make it so that ALL OF US can take things, ANYWHERE IN TOWN, and nobody will notice because of your Epithet."

"Semblance," Yang and Harley said as one.

A smirk flicked across Emerald's lips. "What were you thinking?"

The shop in town that saw the most traffic sold weapons, healing gels, and accessories. Not that Harley's little group needed any of those things, practically, but it was easy to see where the money was going.

All Emerald needed to do was tweak the fabric of reality a little bit, and Harley, Yang, Emerald, Giovanni, Electro, Sandman, and Spinel simply walked into the stockroom and picked out their desires.

The shop itself had an open face, a counter people could visit from the outside to pick up their purchases. The merchant spent his time organizing the stock when not manning the counter, which meant seven thieves danced right around him without his notice.

"This seriously feels like cheating," Emerald said as she scooped up a handful of expensive gels. "But I guess it is just one mind I'm affecting, so that explains it."

"Check this out!" Giovanni giggled uncontrollably as he stepped behind the merchant, putting up both hands behind his head and spreading out his fingers. "Moose antlers!"

That set everyone off laughing.

"Hey, yo, buddy, can we take this?" Sandman asked, holding up a high-end blade. "Huh. Not hearin' a 'no.' Thanks, pal!"

"Hey!" Yang barked. "If you don't want me to take this bracelet, make a noise right now!"

Not a peep from the merchant, and everyone was set off laughing again.

Spinel danced around him, making all sorts of funny faces. Harley fell on the floor, rolling laughing. It was the happiest Emerald could remember having felt in a long, long time.

When Electro barreled through the stockroom with the jar where profits went in hand, screaming, "I'VE GOT THE TILL!", Sandman followed up with "BOOK IT!" and the septet left, sharing a hearty laugh at just how much they'd gotten away with.

The minute they'd made a clean getaway, the merchant could now see how bare his shelves were; a cry of "WHAT THE HELL?" in the background increased the hilarity of the situation and got the seven so riled up that Emerald accidentally led them through the cave tunnel to the docks instead of the sanctuary.

"Sorry," she said sheepishly. "Got turned around. Hang on, I know the – "

A cough got her attention. A pair of children, brother and sister by the looks of it, huddled up next to a stack of wooden crates. The older brother was peeling off his coat to wrap around his shivering younger sister.

Emerald approached gingerly. "Hey," she greeted softly. "You guys got somewhere to go?"

The boy shook his head.

"Parents?" Emerald asked. "A place to sleep?"

Another shake; negative.

"Here." Emerald handed over some of the gels she'd taken. "Give some of these to your sister. It'll help her feel better." She looked back to the others; "Can we spare some of the money to buy them a few nights at the inn?"

"Sure!" Harley dug around in the pocket dimension for a couple thousand gald. "Have some from the Hellawes Shipper's Guild fund!"

The children accepted the money happily, taking off immediately to purchase a warmer place to stay, if only for a while.

"Guess you're not all that bad," Yang remarked.

"And you helped us take those things," Emerald reminded her. "You're not all that good, either."

"Eh." Yang shrugged. "That's just the company I keep these days. Kinda fun, all considered. But seriously, you wanna prove you regret hurting Vale? That went a long way, right there."

"Well, that's who we are, right?" Giovanni urged. "We're not about hurting anybody REALLY badly. Just about getting what we want, and looking out for our own. I mean, we're still VILLAINS, don't get me wrong, but more of…uh…not the hardcore kind. Just…"

"What was that interesting word?" Spinel recalled. "Heathens!"

"HEATHENS!" Giovanni cried. "As of right now, I declare our newly-forged crime syndicate…THE HEATHENS!"

"Ya really gonna try an' get that name goin' without my approval?" Harley teased, pretending to be angry.

"Whatcha gonna do about it?" Giovanni challenged. "Throw hands? HUH?"

"Well, I guess I could live with it," Harley relented. "Better than ya splittin' my skull open with a Soul-Slugger Doom Bat, which ya totally still have."

"I TOTALLY STILL DO!" Giovanni agreed.

"Heathens," Emerald repeated. "That works for me."

"Ain't we got a volcano to climb yet?" Sandman wondered out loud.

"Yeah!" Harley affirmed. "Sure do! An' this time…I KNOW I know who's waitin'."

...

Drakken knew he wasn't up for teaching Remnant history. None of those words meant anything to him. What was a "Faunus"? What was a "Mantle" besides something you take up when a greater villain passes their best gear to you because you've beaten them at their own game?

So instead, he decided to go a different direction entirely, and managed to win over his class even faster than Zorg had done his by yelling, "WHO WANTS TO LEARN HOW TO BUILD A DEATH RAY?"

And the students rejoiced.

...

Ozpin, piloting Oscar's body, paraded about the balcony. Qrow was sleeping off another alcoholic haze in preparation for the days to come, leaving Ozpin the primary adult supervision of their allies – and no, Goofy and Donald did not count.

He'd paired them off – or, rather, let them choose pairs to challenge each other's style – and meandered through the sparring duets, giving advice to each.

"Ruby," he ordered, "try disarming your opponent without using Crescent Rose."

"HE HAS A HAND LASER!" Ruby protested.

"Aw, I know you can do it," Booster told her, lowering said "hand-laser."

"And don't go easy on her because she's your friend," Ozpin warned him. "I know you have it set to 'stun'; I heard you say as much. She can get temporarily stunned in the pursuit of defeating you."

"Sorry," Booster told Ruby as he began to open fire again; Ruby ducked and dodged.

"HOW AM I SUPPOSED TO HAND-TO-HAND SOMEBODY WHOSE WEAPON IS PROJECTILE AND ALSO ON HIS ACTUAL HAND?"

"THAT'S FOR YOU TO FIGURE OUT!" Ozpin said as he moved on. "NOT ALL ENEMIES WILL ACCOMMODATE YOUR STYLE, YOU KNOW!"

Next, Crocea Mors and Destiny's Embrace clashed again and again. "Well done, Kairi," Ozpin congratulated, "but your stance could use a little work. Your posture is weak, and suggests an enemy could easily break through your defenses. Hold your body more rigidly. Think of yourself as confident and immeasurably strong. One day, you will be."

Kairi spun, crashing her Keyblade so hard against Jaune's sword that it went flying out of his hand. "WAH!"

"And Jaune," Ozpin advised, "you have both sword and shield. Remember to figure out when to use which."

Yuffie was having great fun, backflipping out of Magnhild's reach and using her shuriken to deflect pink-smoke-leaking grenades. She temporarily perched on the railing, and Ozpin saw her down a potion before flipping into the fray once more.

"You'll have to learn how to rely on your strength without taking regenerative items at every turn," he warned. "You will be run out or cut off by a persistent foe."

"That trick made Sora CRY at the Coliseum," Yuffie argued.

"Not everyone you fight will be this 'Sora,'" Ozpin reminded her. "Oh, and Nora…watch the floor. Power is useful when against a tougher enemy, but know your environment. If you put too many cracks in this balcony, you'll fall right through, and that will not a victory make."

"GOT IT!" Nora yelled back. "NO MORE FLOOR BASHING!"

Goofy cowered behind his shield while Donald flung Blizzard spells like mad. "I can see you two are seasoned warriors," Ozpin remarked, approaching. "And that you have a very…unique bond. Though if I may offer a little advice?"

"I don't need your advice!" Donald snapped. "I know everything about magic that I need to!"

"Well," Ozpin stated, "it just seems to me that the way you favor your staff hand, it creates a rather obvious opening for Goofy to easily overpower you with his shield."

A hint Goofy didn't take.

"I SAID," Ozpin repeated, "IT CREATES A RATHER OBVIOUS OPENING FOR GOOFY TO EASILY OVERPOWER YOU WITH HIS SHIELD."

"Oh!" Goofy launched the shield, and it knocked Donald over from his non-dominant side. "Thanks, Mr. Ozpin!" Goofy waved at Ozpin – and his own shield boomeranged back, bowling him over with a yelp.

Ozpin sighed. "Just keep in mind that even the most battle-hardened of knights have room to improve."

Ren and Weiss' fight was almost seamless, a graceful dance. And maybe Kazuichi was a little envious as he watched from the sidelines. Because Weiss was an absolute artist at dueling, and Ren was a perfect complementary partner, and there was nothing wrong with that, but all the same, Kazuichi had seen how the others had gravitated to either their best friends or the ones they had feelings for, and maybe he wasn't quite sure how he felt about Weiss just yet, and maybe he wasn't sure he wanted to know for her sake, but he was aware that he liked her in some capacity and wanted to keep up the rapport they'd built earlier, passing silly hypotheticals back and forth –

"You aren't a fighter by nature, are you?" Ozpin asked.

"More of a techie," Kazuichi replied. "I mean, I join in on the battles and stuff, but I'm not great at it. Actually, I've been more of a risk than anything else. Heheh…leg and all."

Ozpin observed the prosthesis. "I see. Of course, there are many who have lost limbs in battle and continue to fight. Most of whom have appropriated more high-technology solutions, but that limb has a solid build. You could indeed do battle while wearing it, even if you had to be conscious of where your weight was leaning."

"How do I even start?" Kazuichi asked. "I don't wanna pick up another weapon. I just don't."

"Then don't," Ozpin advised. "See how Ruby is holding her own against Booster without one?"

Ruby fell to the floor with a stupid smile frozen on her face, and Booster rattled off another "SORRYSORRYSORRY!" for stunning her.

"Er…how Ruby should be holding her own," Ozpin corrected.

"I mean, I know some basics," Kazuichi admitted, "but it's like my body never does what my brain tells it to."

"Then perhaps you need more than one instructor," Ozpin advised. "I think I know whose skills you can benefit from. Weiss! Ren! Stop for a moment, won't you?"

They did. "Something wrong?" Weiss asked.

"A few imperfections," Ozpin related, "but in truth, I want your help in assisting Kazuichi with learning the basics of battle. That takes priority over the improvements to your own form. You always were a top-ranked student among your class, Weiss. I am entrusting you with the task of passing on your knowledge, especially in the realm of hand-to-hand."

"I rarely even use hand-to-hand anymore," Weiss admitted. "I might be a bit rusty. But…I'll try."

Kazuichi couldn't help but wonder if he'd made this happen by thinking about it, which brought back the guilt and the rushing flood of fears until Weiss' voice broke through them; "Helloooo? You paying attention?"

"Huh?"

"I'm trying to tell you how to set your stance," Weiss said sternly. "Put your left foot out forward and lean your weight on it a little more. I'm not sure if you're right- or left-handed, but…well…"

"Kinda only one option," Kazuichi admitted as he put his flesh-and-blood foot forth. "Soooo…now what?"

"Now, you make your weapon. Clench both your fists."

"And now…?"

"Think of it like a slow dance. I'll move, and you respond."

She walked him through the steps of it, and he found it difficult, not because of the material itself – she made it sound so understandable – but because she was now asking him to fight her, and he would never do that to such a good new friend.

"Are you going easy on me?" she laughed. "Trust me. I've had worse." She tapped the scar on her eye. "Now fight me like a Huntsman!"

"Soooo…what do I do?" Ren asked.

"You may have a snack break," Ozpin said, quite seriously.

After another half hour, everyone was called to a reprieve, since it didn't do good to burn out. They sat around the balcony and took the time to exchange all-important exposition. Weiss was now made aware of the existence of other worlds, magic, and the new villains on the board. Which she was surprisingly receptive to, because she had some oddities of her own to recount regarding Yang, Emerald, Raven, Salem, and a weird bunch of bandits.

"It all comes back to Salem," Ruby realized.

"So we gotta kick her ass now too," Kazuichi said, "right?"

"Good luck," Weiss sighed. "Apparently, wait for it, she's immortal. Isn't that just the cherry on top?"

Ozpin looked like he was about to be hit like a truck.

"She's what?" Ruby urged.

"Emerald said she's immortal," Weiss stated. "She can't be killed, and she's been around for…well, I guess as long as Ozpin has. I mean, it's Emerald, so I'm not sure how far we can trust it, but Raven seemed to back it up."

"That would mean Ironwood's entire military fleet was developed to destroy a person who can't be killed," Ren realized.

"Oz?" Nora cocked her head. "Is this true?"

"I – er – I mean – " He had never, ever, ever wanted them to find out this way, this soon.

"Professor Ozpin?" Ruby said meekly. "We kind of need the truth at this point."

Saying "Yes" was perhaps the most difficult task he'd completed in his life. "She is, indeed…unable to be killed."

There was a brief silence. Then Donald piping up; "WHY DOES THAT EVEN MATTER? We weren't gonna off her anyway!"

"Why does it matter?" Ozpin repeated. "It matters because the people of this world are trained from birth to believe they can destroy Grimm, destroy evil by fighting hard enough…and…and I let them believe that lie, because without it, there's no hope."

"Hope's a pretty powerful thing, though," Kazuichi pointed out. "Sometimes, you gotta hold on to the idea that you can dropkick the monochrome bear and get the fuck out of the simulation before anybody else dies."

That caused an even longer silence. "Aaaaanybody wanna translate that?" Nora asked.

"I think I know the details?" Ruby ventured. "It's a longer story."

"I'm sayin'," Kazuichi urged, "sometimes, well, you just need somethin' to believe in! 'Cause despair…despair makes you think you've got a free pass to wreck as much as you think the world's already wrecked!"

"I think I agree," Ruby said gingerly. "Lying to people…doesn't sound great on paper. But…"

"But Ozpin had to make a tough decision," Goofy stated. "Kinda like when the Keybearers had to learn about Xehanort. He'd already been movin' the chess pieces around. An' a lotta folks got hurt, like Aqua, Ven, Terra, an'…what was her name again?"

"Xion!" Donald chided, bopping Goofy on the head with his staff. "After all the trouble we went to REMEMBER it, you go and FORGET IT!"

"Now, that wasn't somethin' we could just spill all at once," Goofy admitted, rubbing the lump that was forming where he'd been bopped. "Hard as it is. We had to take care of our own stories first."

"And what else could you do besides call on heroes?" Booster added. "Nothing? You can't just give up without even trying, not when there ARE people ready to fight!"

"I…I cannot express how much your words mean to me." Ozpin was very nearly crying now. "I had feared that if you learned the truth…you would find it all meaningless."

"I'll be honest," Ruby ventured. "If I hadn't left on my adventure, hadn't seen all I've seen, hadn't done all I've done and made the promises I've made, I think I would've been mad. Really mad. It would've seemed like you'd just made me a cannon pointed at the enemy so someone else could claim a victory. Ozpin can't fight Salem, so he makes other people do it for him. But…that all just hinges on how much it sounds hopeless, that she can't be killed. That anger would've been because I couldn't fix the problem, not on my own. But I've fixed problems without hurting the people responsible, even the worst of them…and caused more problems by hurting them when I decided to take that chance." A fleeting thought to Cinder, pouring out blood on the stones of the Forbidden World. "I've learned there are more ways to come at a problem than anyone ever imagined. And there are more problems than anyone ever imagined, too. We're dealing with people who have literally come back from the dead. Torchwick came back from the dead! That's what we're facing now! And we can't give up just because they have that advantage! We just have to find another way! To stop them without ending them! Because we made a promise, to Papyrus, to Katara, to Aang…that life is always worth something, whether you're good or evil. And that means Salem too! I know if Papyrus were here, he'd say something about how she couldn't have always been bad, and maybe had a chance to be better!"

Ozpin was crying now. Rivers of tears as he choked on his own words. He'd never truly given up hope that she could return to him one day. He'd never really stopped loving her, even as he'd grown to love so many other romantic partners in her wake. If they wanted to do this in such a way that left that option open…

"So I'm not mad," Ruby concluded. "I would've been. But now I'm not, because I know how to think outside the box. Outside the world. And this? This…isn't too different from what we were already facing."

"No arguments there," Jaune said with a shrug. "Now I'm thinking about it. I probably would've been livid if you'd told me this while I was still at Vale. But after hearing that Maleficent's already died about fifty times and keeps coming back for more…well, I'm used to it now."

"Thank you for trusting us," Kairi said sincerely.

"Oz?" Nora ventured. "You gonna be okay there, little buddy?"

He wiped his wet cheeks on the back of Oscar's sleeve. "I'll be fine," he managed. "One day…I'll trust you with the whole story. I promise you that. But for now…please. Keep this a secret from Qrow. I know he won't see this the way you do. He…he'll think I gave him his power, all of his special training, for a lost cause."

"Learning more is never a lost cause," Kairi urged. "Actually, if you could teach me to turn into a bird, I'd love it!"

That got Ozpin to laugh through his tears. "Let's focus on your Keyblade training first. Then think about birds."

"We won't tell Qrow," Ren promised. "I can get how he'd be…less than thrilled to hear this."

"Mom's the word!" Kazuichi promised with a grin.

"It's 'mum,'" Weiss corrected.

"Well, yeah, if you're British," Kazuichi said confidently.

Weiss stifled a giggle, then gave him a light shove, muttering a word that sounded suspiciously like "Himbo."

"Well, then." Ozpin forced Oscar to stand. "Shall we continue our training?"

"With a new emphasis on nonviolent detainment!" Ruby said earnestly, and everyone agreed.

...

Vexen stood before a lecture hall of unrefined minds, made weak by too much recreation and too little structure – or so he saw it, anyway. Well, he may have only been here to perpetuate a charade, but that didn't mean he couldn't do some heavy housecleaning.

"And so another term begins," he remarked. "They gather in classrooms, some hoping to truly learn and some hoping they can merely pass time until the next diversion. If you are among the latter, you may as well be warned. You will not be able to get away with merely passing time. I do not give 'A's. Such grades are only for the truly exceptional. And I can already tell there is none of THAT here."
"What's THAT supposed to mean?" someone blurted.
"I believe I was clear," Vexen stated, looking directly to the offender. "Though I would have thought that with one's grade already on the line in such a fashion, you would know better than to make statements that would lower your grade by one percent, Mr. Rivas."
"But that's not FAIR!" another broke in. "He didn't know talking out of turn would lower his grade! And what does that have to do with how smart he is, anyway?"
"Knowing when to speak demonstrates one's ability to follow the orders given by those who are superior to them," Vexen answered. "And as for you, Miss Villa, that will be two percent off your final grade."
"But - !" that student attempted.
"Three," Vexen replied.
Villa clamped her lips shut.
"Now, where were we…" Vexen thought out loud. "Ah, yes. Expectations." He lay a thick stack of papers on a front desk. "Distribute these syllabi throughout the class."
The owner of the desk took a syllabus and passed it on. It took the form of a thick packet. As the packets were passed around, groans could be heard from around the classroom.
"One…two…three…" Vexen counted off the noises of disgust emitted by his students. "It really is fascinating by how much you are willing to lower the final class average grade."
"This HAS to be against the rules somehow," a student seethed.
"I was wondering if Miss Bowen would join the others in their rude interruptions," Vexen replied. "It was only inevitable. I am sure you are aware of what penalty you have just earned, Miss Bowen. If you are all QUITE done voicing complaints, you will open your textbooks to the first page. In order to even barely grasp what makes up the science of Dust, it is imperative that you understand the elemental cycle. Not as though I am expecting the majority of you to be able to comprehend it, but I can at the very least lead horses to water."

He stepped aside, gesturing to where he'd lined up Dust of various colors on his desk, sorted by type in a perfect rainbow. "I suppose I shall have to begin with the basics," he sighed. "The red are fire-types. Burn, Incinerate, Smolder, Smoke. Fire is negated by water, and yet overpowers ice…such irony, that a state of matter change would make all the difference. Misplace an ice type against an enemy who utilizes fire-based Dust and you will find your vessel torn apart in the most gruesome of manners…in such a way that can never, ever be forgiven. The effect of air on a fire-type depends on the subtype. Winds douse fire. Stagnant air rejuvenates it."

"I have a question!" a hand went up. "When are you gonna make the fire one explode? Because that'd be soooooooo cool."
"OUT OF TURN!" Vexen snapped at the student. "FIVE PERCENT OFF – "

And his expression turned to pure horror; he took two cautious steps backward to his desk.

Smiling at him with the most mischievous grin capable by mortal faces was Kokichi Oma.

"I have another question," Kokichi said. "Is that stuff about fire making ice explode a personal story? Because it sure sounds like a personal story."

"YOU." Vexen looked about ready to explode whether or not there was fire involved. "LEAVE MY CLASSROOM AT ONCE!"

"But I wanna lllleeeeaaaarrrrnnnnn!" Kokichi argued.

"Don't lie to me!" Vexen snapped.

"You're meeeaaaaan!" Kokichi was now dripping crocodile tears.

"OUT!" Vexen asserted.

The tears were dry as quickly as they'd come. "You want me out?" Kokichi said, a finger over his lips. "Well, then, you must be fine with me telling even more lies. For example." That finger pointed at Vexen. "THAT MAN ISN'T A CERTIFIED TEACHER!"

And for once, Vexen knew to shut up.

"Kidding!" Kokichi laughed. "Then again…what if I told you I knew he was an evil villain here to take revenge on an old feud between one of his allies and a worldwide threat? I'D BE KIDDING AGAIN! Nee-hee-hee! No, I actually do know Professor Vexen. He's my piano teacher. I'm a maestro, you know. Also, we're related. That's why we have the same voice!"

There had to be some way to silence Kokichi without risking him spilling the beans. After all, Vexen wasn't about to put his faith in Hannibal's cleanup skills.

"Can you make a stink bomb out of Dust?" Kokichi babbled on. "My cousin said she did once. Actually, I was there when she did! Wheeee-oooooo, did that ever smell like shit!"

"If you truly are a student here," Vexen urged, "then surely you will know that you are not exempt from school rules."

Kokichi looked at him with wide, shocked eyes. Then: "All right. You got me. I'm not a student. I'm actually the leader of an evil organization that numbers in the thousands for membership. And I'm here to kill you all."

"Is he serious?" a student asked.

"OF COURSE HE ISN'T SERIOUS!" Vexen spat.

"It's a lie!" Kokichi affirmed. "It's just a prankster organization. We won't rest until there's a whoopee cushion on every chair! Holes in every milk carton!"

"I WILL fail you," Vexen seethed. "Even if I cannot expel or suspend you!"

"Fail me?" Kokichi repeated. "Oh, Professor Vexen. You won't fail me. Because you love me. You should just admit it. After all, nobody likes a liar. Least of all me."

"WHA – " Vexen sputtered. "HOW CAN YOU MAKE SUCH A CLAIM? YOU HAVE BEEN DOING NOTHING BUT TELLING LIES! YOU CANNOT DENOUNCE LIARS – OF WHICH I AM NOT ONE – IF YOU, YOURSELF, ARE THE GREATEST LIAR OF THEM ALL!"

"Am I?" Kokichi's expression went completely neutral. "I don't know about that. See, by now, everyone's figured out I'm lying. I've already contradicted myself so many times, then laughed at it. They know. How can I be a liar if nobody believes any of my lies? I've already let them know I'm never gonna tell the truth, so all they have to do is pick the furthest thing from anything I've said in the collective lie, and there they have it. So what makes a real liar, you ask? Somebody who takes care to make their lies sound convincing. Somebody who builds a foundation of truth, then slips in one teeny-tiny falsehood that tips the entire balance in their favor. Somebody who took the time to get all the credentials and learn how to talk the talk. That's what a liar looks like. You know who's a liar by not knowing who's a liar…and that means a liar could be anybody. Anybody except little old me, who's made sure you all know where I stand."

His face then twisted into a grim smirk, taking on unnecessary shadows. "Do you know what I'm talking about, Professor Vexen? Do you hate liars, too?"

Vexen realized, then, how much he'd played with fire – always it came back to fire – when he'd chosen Kokichi for his replica. Yes, the boy had an impressive résumé, and there was no way he could have known this without binging a month's worth of reality television, but despite his chaotic exterior, Kokichi was smart, and he was dangerous, too. He only played the fool to hide this side. And Vexen had to admit he wasn't sure where to tread.

Thanks to a seventeen-year-old who was technically Tsumugi's original character.

"I do so despise liars," he ended up saying in as even of a tone as possible.

"Good," Kokichi replied. "Then we're on the same page." Now his eyes lit up with that childlike sparkle again; "CAN YOU MAKE A SNOWSTORM INDOORS OUT OF THE DUST?"

...

A snowstorm, in fact, had already come and gone over Harley, Yang, Giovanni, Spinel, Sandman, Electro, and Emerald, who had forged through icy plains to find the base of the volcano. The sky overhead no longer held any clues as to whether it was day or night. Had the Van Eltia shoved off? No one could say.

"Well, here we are," Harley announced when the Heathens pulled up to the nadir. "Mount Killaraus!"

"I'd been meanin' to ask," Sandman brought up. "What's a raus?"

"A huh the who now?" Harley replied.

"Y'know," Sandman clarified, "it's Mount Killaraus. They named it after killin' a raus, so what's a raus?"

"I dunno," Giovanni muttered. "I think it's one of those aesthetic things where you just throw together the most badass syllables possible, so the word 'kill' gets in there with other nonsense stuff to make it sound scary. I mean, it's a volcano in an icy wasteland. You can't half-ass the name on that."

Emerald withdrew her pistols, converting them into hand-scythes. "So we climb?" she asked.

"I don't think we'll need that." Yang gestured to a pathway that led up into a cavern. "Wanna see how far up that goes?"

Emerald holstered her weapons after giving them a little spin. "That admittedly would be way easier."

"You gotta start seeing things with a little more Team RWBY flavor," Yang said with a smile and a wink.

"Well, you've already seen things my way," Emerald reminded her.

"Then let's hightail it up that mountain!" Spinel cried. "And sing a cheerful hiking song while we're at it!"

"Yeah!" Harley agreed. "Okay, so what songs do we all know?"

As they began to ascend, they pooled the tunes they were familiar with. As it turned out, any given two of their homeworlds had the same musical artist or a parallel version of them, but not all five, and no song managed to pin the center of the Venn diagram until one of the oldest classics in the book was brought up.

And so, when the seven finally reached the summit – passing from a blue-white wonderland into a blazing red inferno of stone – they were calling out, "THIRTEEN BOTTLES OF BEER ON THE WALL! THIRTEEN BOTTLES OF BEEEEER! YOU TAKE ONE DOWN, PASS IT AROUND, THIRTEEN BOTTLES OF BEER ON THE WAAAAALL!"

(Though Spinel had initially known it as "Ninety-Nine Bottles of Refracted Light" and admitted this version was much easier to sing.)

When Harley saw the man with his back to her, wearing an all-too-familiar suit of yellow and black armor, she raced toward him; "GAR!"

Firefly turned around from where he'd been staring off the edge into the caldera. "Harley!" he greeted, putting up a hand – the other was wrapped around his helmet, freeing his face. "Shoulda known you'd be along."

"What're ya doin' all the way up – " Harley skidded to a halt at cliff's end. "Wowzers."

She was looking dead into the heart of the mountain, where roaring red fire rippled and bubbled. She was pretty sure this wasn't how volcanoes were supposed to work, but it was a dream, after all.

What she did know for certain was what it must've reminded Firefly of. "You doin' okay?" she asked.

"Yeah," Firefly replied, a slight smile overtaking his face. "Think I am. Better than I've been in a while. I'm here, looking right into it. It's like Phosphorus on energy drinks. It's everything I've ever been afraid of. But it's just…okay. I'm here, it's here, nobody got burned to a crisp, and it's okay."

"I'm glad," Harley told him. "Y'know, actually, we got a guy who's kinda got a Phosphorus issue, though a lot less immediately dangerous. He can still walk on floors an' eat food…mostly."

Firefly turned, inclining his head to Electro. "Lemme guess. The one in the protective suit?"

"Yyyyyyyep. That's the one."

"You're talking about me?" Electro grunted.

"Yeah," Firefly told him. "What's your damage? Mutant-wise."

Electro peeled back his mask, showing off his glimmering visage. "This is why my name is Electro," he confirmed. "I'm lightning. I'm energy. I'm the brightest thing that shines in New York City or anywhere!"

"You got that under control?" Firefly asked. "Actually, better question. You guys think he's got it under control?"

"I know he does!" Sandman argued. "Sure, I might have to deal with an arm bein' glass for a while, which is INCONVENIENT – "

"I said I was sorry," Electro mumbled.

"But he ain't no time bomb," Sandman stated.

"I thought I was, at first," Electro admitted. "I wasn't sure whether they'd even made the right choice, letting me exist. Maybe they should've let me die. But now…" He raised his hands, flexing them, and energy rippled over them in golden bolts. "Now, I'd rather be dead than not this. Even when it is dangerous. Even when it reminds me I'm not normal, and I never will be again." Both fists clenched. "I've spent my whole reborn life as Electro wanting to be cured. But now, I don't care anymore. Max Dillon was powerless. I AM power."

"More power to ya," Firefly replied. "Pun intended. Listen, I don't even know you, and I'm proud of you already. Me? I'd rather be human. But that's a personal taste thing."

Electro wanted to smile brightly back and tell him that was the case all day every day, but now he was thinking about the times he did feel weak, dangerous and in danger at the same time. Could he really make a claim that sometimes, he felt ready to go back on, even if those times became fewer and further between?

Luckily, the subject was changed. "We gotta hustle if we wanna make it back to Eizen's ship 'fore it launches," Harley remarked. "Ready to go, Gar?"

"You know it," Firefly told her. "Also, if you can fill me in on where we…are at some point, that'd be real peachy."

"Sure thing!" Harley replied. "First, though, it's a long way down an' back. Time best spent with a ROAD TRIP SONG!"

"Uggghhh, can we sing about something else besides beer on the wall?" Giovanni groaned. "I'm feeling tipsy already from just the song!"

"What else would we all know that's universal?" Harley mused. "I dunno…prob'ly too much to ask for the Name Game…"

"The Name Game?" Emerald repeated. "As in…Emerald Emerald Bo-Bemerald – "

And the others launched right in: "BANANA FANA FO-FEMERALD, FEE-FI-MO-MEMERALD, EMERALD!"

"Okay, we know that one!" Harley declared. "Extreme edition! Every name of everyone we know! LET'S GO!"

...

The first of the trials of Goo Falls took the form of a wall, rather oddly shaped and with holes cut out of it, proving once again that Numerian magitech was keeping the structure from collapsing. As Mozenrath, Yzma, Wuya, Zevon, Shocker, Mysterio, Gill, and Calindor approached, the bricks took on a sudden frieze of colors, every brick displaying one of five patterns: dots like the sides of dice, but only one through five. At the top of the wall, a thick, brambly vine was stretched, with a brilliantly violet-petaled flower marking it like a bow tie in the center. Above this vine was a carving of a face framed by two immense purple pillars that stretched up to the heavens.

Thanks to the Rings of Fire, no one was surprised when the stone face opened its eyes and began to explain the trial: "When a Goo Beetle eats my venom flower, a clue you then will see. Then up my secret stairs you'll climb: a pathway toward the key. But before you seek the way up to a flower and a clue, Goo Beetles from a purple bag must belong to you."

Mozenrath fired a glare at Gill. "Beetles," he demanded.

"You're such a wimp," Gill replied as he placed a purple sac of beetles on the stone before them. Said sac proceeded to pulse, and then spat out two dripping drops of goo that melted away to reveal a pair of beetles with red carapaces.

"JUST WHEN I THINK THIS CAN'T GET ANY MORE DISGUSTING!" Mozenrath yelled.

"Huh," Shocker observed. "Them beetles look mighty familiar. See the wall?"

And it was apparent, then. Each beetle had a pattern of dots on its back that matched one of the recurring bricks.

"Why are they CRIMSILION?" Zevon asked.

"They're not," Calindor replied, "but the fact that they're RED has little to do with the associated color of the sac. I'm guessing this subspecies is bred to trigger the wall by matching its bricks. Up above, the other four walls should have patterns that correspond to other beetle subspecies."

"Really," Wuya remarked, "once you get past the goo, it's a marvel of architecture."

"You presume it is physically possible for one to get past the goo," Yzma huffed.

"Guide a beetle toward the venom flower at the top of the wall by instructing it to move to tiles that match it in at least one way," the stone face went on. "The beetle must start at the bottom, and can only move to tiles to its left, its right, above it, or below it."

"So we're just matching attributes," Mozenrath realized. "Strangely reminds me of the time I raided the tomb of Very Ankh-Ammen."

"What's this?" Wuya remarked. "A story about magic that you haven't already bored us with once, let alone five hundred times?"

Mozenrath folded his arms; "I prefer to act as if it never happened. For all the world knows, I was NOT thrown off an upside-down pyramid by a vicious she-genie, locked out of the tomb, and forced to wander the deserts in a state of half-dehydration for weeks until I realized that in the time I'd been gone, the genie I released had been detained in the exact same place I left her. BY ALADDIN'S MOOKS."

"Well, now I want to know this story," Mysterio decided.

"It sounds embarramiliating," Zevon agreed.

"I SAID THAT'S NOT WHAT HAPPENED!" Mozenrath argued.

"So what did happen?" Wuya asked.

"A vicious she-genie accidentally got let out by a snake that was in the wrong place at the wrong time," Mozenrath grumbled. "That's the story we're going with. That's what happened."

"Can we focus?" Calindor sighed. "We have a trial to pass."

"Now, this will be no problem." Mozenrath's eyes were already searching out the patterns of the wall, the ups and downs and loops around the holes that made a coherent path. "A nonmagical might have to direct their beetle one tile by one. A sorcerer, on the other hand…"

He extended his index finger, drawing in the air. A path of blue energy forged from the first tile – a bright red with five dots – to the one above it, then one to the left, then suddenly all the way up on the route he'd created.

"Now go," he told the beetle. The beetle sensed the magical energy, latching onto it and following its route up the wall: up, down, and around.

"Can't this thing go any faster?" Gill groaned.

"We could light a fire behind it," Wuya suggested. "If you want to risk incinerating the beetle, of course."

"And go trekking BACK through the goo to get MORE?" Mysterio groaned. "No THANK you."

At last, the beetle reached the violet flower, chowing down on the poisonous petals. Once the bloom had been devoured, there was a sudden "snap" sound, and the vine broke, falling away completely. The beetle, satisfied with its work, took off flying, as did its companion still on the stone ground.

"The vine is broken," the stone face declared. "I…am..RELEASED!"

And with that, the two purple pillars simply fell down to the stone below to form staircases. Though no one had actually realized that was how this was going to work, and for a brief moment, Yzma and Mysterio, who stood at either end of the group, were caught screaming in the shadows of the falling pillars before Wuya and Shocker jerked them out of the way, into the light and safety.

"YOU COULDN'T HAVE GIVEN US A WARNING?" Yzma shook her bony fist at the stone face.

"It did," Calindor reminded her. "It said it was released."

"That's not a USEFUL warning!" Mysterio huffed.

"Let's just keep moving!" Mozenrath growled, storming up the right-hand purple staircase. The others followed, some taking right and some taking left to get to the next floor up.

"Wait a tick," Shocker said, and they all froze in place on the stairs. Shocker was pointing to the stone where the vine had covered; the words "PRESS ON THE OCTAGON" were revealed in its absence.

"Well, now that we know what those clues are for," Mozenrath stated, "I expect everyone here to memorize them." And with that, he exeunted.

They reunited on the floor above, where things were a little different. As Calindor had surmised, the bricks of this wall had Arabic numerals on them, which was of course going to correspond with the green subspecies of goo beetle. They all knew it would be green because of the green pillars bound up, ready to become stairs with only an unhelpful warning. But most strikingly, there was not one venom flower but a pair, each fastening one of double vines, keeping those stairs from moving.

"Two beetles, huh?" Mozenrath remarked. "This should be no problem."

"Let's save time," Wuya suggested. "You draw one, and I'll draw the other."

The green beetles were released in a rush of goop, and the two mages set to work drawing paths for them: one blue, one green.

That was when Gill got the idea. "Hey," he mused, "wanna take bets on whose beetle gets to the top fastest?"

"WUYA'S WILL REACH THE ZENITHATE FIRST!" Zevon roared.

"I – " Yzma's voice hitched. "Was going to bet on Wuya's, yes."

"We start the bugs at the same time, ain't no skill involved from either of 'em," Shocker pointed out. "Depends on which bug follows the trail quicker. I'm gonna put fifty smacks on Mozenrath."

"TWO HUNDRED on Mozenrath!" Mysterio cried.

"What currency are we using?" Yzma wondered out loud. "Munny? Lien? Denarii? Dollars?"

"Who caaaares?" Gill sighed. "What you win or lose is how much you bet in your home currency. End of story! Anyway, what about you, Blondie? You in or no?"

"No," Calindor huffed. "I refuse to participate in such an immature activity, as I'm certain the directors of the beetles themselves – "

"I'm putting a hundred on my own beetle," Wuya said.

"As I'm certain Mozenrath – " Calindor attempted.

"FIVE HUNDRED on mine!" Mozenrath snapped at Wuya.

"As I'm certain I am the only one here with any brains," Calindor muttered.

When the paths were drawn, Gill counted down: "Three, two, one, GO!"

The beetles were released, scuttling up the wall on their designated paths. Zevon, Wuya, and Yzma cheered for the one following green; Shocker, Mysterio, and Mozenrath yelled insults at the one following blue. When Wuya's came out victorious, that triad leapt about happily in a group hug while the other three glared daggers.

"We're winning that back at the next wall," Mozenrath grumbled once the green stairs were down and he'd had a good look at the clue that directed him "NEXT THE SQUARE."

The next wall was red, and as before, had two venom flowers. The patterns here appeared similar to hands holding up certain numbers of fingers. Mozenrath and Wuya quickly set to drawing their paths as Gill released the beetles and shored up the bets.

"I'VE CHANGED MY MIND!" Mysterio yelled. "I'm backing Wuya's beetle this time!"

"So you admit you were wrong the first time," Gill told him.

"I wasn't wrong," Mysterio replied.

"So why'd your beetle lose?" Gill asked.

"You know what?" Mysterio decided. "I'M UNCHANGING MY MIND. Put another two hundred on Mozenrath."

"Well, I'll be the sensible one an' shift over to Wuya," Shocker decided. "An' y'know what? Double it."

Gill counted down, the beetles were released, and the race was on. Though Wuya's fell behind, simply by virtue of being a rather lazy beetle, and it was Mozenrath's who reached the venom flower first.

"I TOLD YOU!" Mysterio crowed.

"NO!" Yzma gasped. "HOW COULD WE LOSE?"

"Awww, somebody sore they didn't win?" Mozenrath taunted.

"NEXT WALL!" Yzma growled, and she, Zevon, Shocker, and Wuya hustled up the stairs together in a huff while Mozenrath took note of the clue referencing the trapezoid.

Blue, next, and the bricks had the patterns of pie charts filled in various amounts. Two flowers kickstarted the same routine.

"You know what?" Wuya decided. "I'm just putting five hundred on Mozenrath's beetle. Because that's how my luck works now."

"Three hundred on Mozenrath's!" Yzma declared.

"Twenty-five, Mozenrath!" Zevon said.

"Got a good feelin' about that bug," Shocker mused. "Seventy. Mozenrath."

"ONE HUNDRED AND FIFTY ON MOZENRATH!" Mysterio bellowed.

"We can't start until somebody bets against Mozenrath," Gill pointed out.

"I'm not budging," Mysterio declared.

"I know better than to ignore a good feelin'," Shocker added.

"You're asking me to go against my own sense of irony?" Wuya asked.

And so they went around in a stalemate until Mozenrath decided, "I put. ONE DENARIUS. On Wuya."

And of course, Wuya's won the race, and Mozenrath took the pot.

"The classic double irony," Wuya sighed, slumping.

"We have ONE MORE to get back our winnings!" Yzma cried, bolting up the blue stairway.

Gold was the final color. The patterns here looked like branches emanating from a central nucleus. But there was a large difference: a third venom flower.

"Anybody else here a sorcerer?" Gill asked. "We can make this FUN now!"

A long, drawn-out sigh, and then Calindor admitted, "I do have…SOME magical powers."

"Oh, now I'm putting a THOUSAND on him," Mysterio decided. "A classic trope. The reluctant one joins in the last round, and is obviously the underdog victor."

"You even got a thousand?" Shocker asked.

"You don't know that I don't," Mysterio snapped back.

As the gold bag threw up five beetles, Calindor picked his up, bringing the hand close to his mouth. "You'd better win this one, scarab," he hissed, "or I'll crush you and all of your kin!"

He then proceeded to mark his tiles with a line of pure Dark magic as everyone placed the rest of their bets.

"Show-off," Mozenrath sighed once he saw the burning black that denoted the middle path.

"ON YOUR MARK!" Gill yelled. "GET READY! Wait for it…wait for it…wait for it." A long silence. "NOW GO!"

The yelling was more frenzied than before as the beetles raced for it. It seemed that Calindor's threat worked, as his was the first to reach the shimmering golden venom flower.

"OH, THANK GOODNESS!" Mysterio sighed. "I DIDN'T HAVE A THOUSAND!"

"The plot twist literally everyone guessed," Yzma remarked.

All three vines snapped eventually, and golden stairways marked the path to the final floor: the altar atop the falls. From there, one could see the massive wall of goo that flowed down and fed the springs of the lagoon. One could see the whole lagoon, in fact.

"Now that's gorgeous," Gill commented.

"Not the word I'd use for it," Yzma muttered.

"Triangle was last," Mozenrath stated. "Now. The key."

They shuffled inside the cavern to find a chamber both dark and dank. Fountains of goo poured out from five stone shapes that extended from the wall. The rivulets bubbled into a basin below the fountain; at present, the goo flowed so quickly, it looked a risky endeavor to put one's hands into.

"I think we all know what to do here," Mozenrath said. "I'll do the honors."

Before he could step forward, Yzma put a hand on his chest roughly. "ALLOW ME," she seethed.

Mozenrath knew what she wanted to do and why. So he nodded. "I suppose I can't really deny you the satisfaction of what little revenge you can get. The order is octagon, square, trapezoid, star, triangle."

"Ohohohoho…" Yzma cackled as she approached, bringing her weapon out and transforming it into a hammer. "This is gonna be GOOD!"

She drew back. Then, with all her force, used the hammer to slam the octagon into the wall, stopping its flow; "I'VE!"

The square was pounded back into the wall with extreme prejudice. "HAD!"

The trapezoid was bashed roughly. "ENOUGH!"

It was a miracle the star even survived the blow. "OF!"

And finally, in went the triangle; "GOO!"

Once the flow had stemmed, the basin emptied out, revealing a key that was the mirror image of the one they'd collected in the Monkey Kingdom.

Yzma surged forth to hold it aloft with a "Ha-HA!"

"Booby trap," Mysterio reminded her.

Or tried to, anyway, as Yzma replied, "Booby what?"

Calindor had just enough time for a split-second dissatisfied groan before the floor of the entire cave gave way, just as it had in the Monkey Kingdom.

As before, the group found themselves deposited at the lookout point. "Oh, how WONDERFUL!" Calindor crowed, a wicked smile developing across his face. "With both keys, NOTHING can stop us from crossing the Numerian threshold! And what awaits beyond will belong to ME!"

"It's a real good thing he doesn't know about the you-know," Yzma whispered to Wuya. "The rest of the city, he can have."

"I don't know," Wuya replied. "I'm starting to see red flags."

Yzma looked out over the forest.

"Not literal ones!" Wuya hissed, bringing Yzma's attention back to her. "I don't know about you…but I'm going to be on my guard."

"If there are no further diversions…" Mysterio had finally scraped the last of the goo out of his helmet, which he settled back into place, as it should be. "THEN LET US PROCEED TO THE LOST CITY!"

...

"BOOK IT!" Harley yelled as she led her new flock through Hellawes, barreling at top speed through the snow-covered city streets.

"I see the sails of the Van Eltia!" Yang cried as she made pace with Harley. "They haven't left yet!"

"WHEN DID YOU SAY THIS WAS A SHIP ON WATER?" Electro cried.

"Don't even worry about it!" Sandman told him. "Anythin' happens – "

"And I'll use my SOUP POWERS to rescue you!" Giovanni declared.

"How is SOUP going to make him any less WET?" Emerald asked.

"You know," Giovanni muttered, "I'm still working that part out…"

Spinel had opted to coil all her limbs into springs, and was bouncing end over end like a spring toy rather than a humanoid being. "LAST ONE THERE'S A SHATTERED PEBBLE!" she cried.

"Oh, you challenged the WRONG bug," Firefly laughed, settling on his helmet so he could take off flying.

In the harbor, they came across Benwick handing a painting to Atakk; the canvas was twice the Normin's size. "Wow!" Atakk gushed. "It sure is pretty! How'd you come by this so cheap?"

"It's a forgery," Benwick explained. "We're going to sell it off later for more than we paid."

"What's a forgery?" Atakk asked.

"It's not the real painting," Benwick told him.

"But it is a real painting?" Atakk argued.

"Well, that's true," Benwick admitted. "It's just not the first version of this painting that was ever painted."

"But it's just as pretty," Atakk mused, "so what's the difference?"

"Y'know," Benwick admitted, "I never thought of it like that!"

"BENWICK!" Harley yelled, and Normin and pirate alike looked up to see the eight charging in.

"Oh, Harley!" Benwick waved. "We were starting to think you'd gotten mauled by wolves out on the plains!"

"Looks like we made it back right on time!" Harley beamed as she skidded to a halt, inviting the others to do so.

"Uh…actually, no, you didn't," Benwick said sheepishly. "We were supposed to launch three hours ago. But then Eizen started acting all weird and saying he had new leads on a cargo deal we hadn't even heard of. Aifread just let him do his thing, so I guess we're docked for a while."

"No luck." This was the voice of Eizen, approaching from a side street. "Though I did hear word that the buyer might be in the – "

He cut himself off when he saw Harley, Yang, and the others. "You made new friends," he remarked.

"Almost as easy as you make enemies!" Yang teased.

"How much longer is this gonna take, Eizen?" Benwick groaned.

"We can set sail immediately," Eizen replied.

"Didn't you just say you had a new lead on your buyer?" Benwick was baffled.

"Now that I think it over," Eizen told him, "I was wrong."

"In a way, it's a good thing you took so long," Benwick realized – or thought he did. "That gave Harley just enough time to show back up!"

"What a coincidence," Eizen told him. "Almost unbelievable, for someone bearing the Reaper's Curse."

He turned to smirk at Yang. And Yang winked back at him in thanks.

"Okay!" Benwick resolved. "Let's go check in at Port Reneed!"

Eizen nodded over the newcomers. "I won't say no to more crew, but introductions are going to have to be in order…and after we use up the three thousand from your vermilion ore deal, they'll be responsible for their own provisions."

"I can kinda just make unlimited soup," Giovanni reminded him.

Yang turned to Harley; "Think we'll find more at this Reneed place?"

"I know it," Harley told her. "We still gotta find Ragsy, an' Giovanni's boys. An' now that we know Cykes got my list, a ton of other people, too!"

"Hey, this first part was fun," Yang reminded her. "Count me in."

"Ya can't leave if ya wanted to," Harley pointed out. Then, on a whim, ruffled Yang's hair.

Yang just laughed. If only Harley had known that Yang didn't let just anybody touch her hair, let alone muss it up. But that revelation would come in due time.

Spinel had already stretched as high as the mast so she could hold onto it with one hand and let the rest of her body flap like a flag; "ALL ABOOOOAAAAARD!"

And with its new crew aboard, the Van Eltia began its new route, toward much warmer weather.

...

After hours at Haven, the new "staff" and "student" reconvened with Roman and Hannibal in the headmster's office.

"Here's what we found out," Hannibal related. "Ol' Qrow, he's goin' on a round-up tomorrow of all the pals he wants to get on his side for the upcomin' clash with Salem."

"Now, I'm not saying we stop him," Roman added. "That would blow our cover way, WAY too early. What I AM saying is that we should tail him tomorrow and figure out just what all he's got up his sleeve. We already have IDs on several nuisances; it'd be good to know which of the locals he's putting on our tail as well."

"A reconnaissance mission," Vexen replied smugly. "The only sort I ever found worthwhile."

"Much as I hate to say it," Roman sighed, "Iceman, that puts you securely on Team Recon. I'm going because I want to get out of the fucking house. Anybody else coming?"

"Ooh, I'll go!" Mim volunteered. "I'm tired of having to put up with these children already. There's so much more fun to be had in town!"

"No more," Vexen warned. "A larger group than three may set off Qrow's suspicions. We will reconvene tomorrow. And Hannibal…call off my class."

"I'll get right on it," Hannibal replied.

"Which, er, nuisances are we counting thus far?" Booster asked.

"Well, there's the li'l Ruby," Hannibal counted off, "her three pals she's had since day one, the duck an' the dog, the big alien feller we saw on Koki's phone, gal named Kairi, 'nother named Yuffie, guy with a name I couldn't pronounce…what was it, Kazoo? Kazam?"

"KAZUICHI?" Mim gasped. "He's HERE? Ohhh, I can finally get my revenge! Or his heart. Or take his heart as revenge!"

"Do you mean as in win him over or rip his still-beating heart out of his chest?" Roman asked.

"Yes," Mim answered.

"I respect that," Roman said with a nod.

"Oh, an' one more," Hannibal recalled. "Ice-queen kinda gal."

"Otherwise known as one more member of the OG 'ruin my life' team!" Roman groaned. "Yaaaaaay. Two to go until my life's a living hell again!"

"Enough chit-chat!" Mim reached up to grab Hannibal by the string tie and jerk him down closer to her height. "We've been on a school campus almost twenty-four hours and not gotten indecent in a public supply closet!"

"You raise a real valid point," Hannibal replied in his most seductive tone – which really just came off as sleazy.

With that, they exited the room, leaving everyone else to their own devices in the office. Neo attempted to keep Kokichi occupied in the corner by joining him for a marathon of card games, which, more often than not, involved her flipping him the bird because he was cheating.

"Aww, you drew me an ace of hearts!" Kokichi said as he shuffled through the deck to find a card-shaped paper with red colored-pencil art. "Is that because you wanted me to let you know I have your heart?"

"No," Roman told him flatly. "It's because I knew you wouldn't leave us a full deck of 52 and we had to play somehow."

Kokichi returned the ace he'd kept in his pocket so that it wouldn't be so easy for Neo to count cards.

Roman then sauntered over to the headmaster's desk, where Snatcher had several papers splayed out, a pen dancing across them. "Sooooooo," Roman teased, "what are those?"

"Exams," Snatcher grumbled. "Exams I've the exhausting chore of grading. Would that I could remember all the ones I'd threatened to fail so I could make good on it all…"

"Here. Lemme help you with that." Roman pulled a stack closer to himself, taking up a red pen. "O-kaaaaay. So this person's handwriting makes them seem like a bitch, so F. This one wrote 'Frou Frou sucks' in the margin: F minus. Can I give this one a G? Oh, wait, this guy's named Roman! Ouch, I bet his mom regretted that one after my rise to power. A for him, though."

He looked up to see Snatcher staring at him, quite bemused. "What?"

"You realize if they're graded at random," Snatcher said, not hiding very well how smitten he was with Roman's joking around, "they'll be onto us and know there wasn't any effort put into it. We'll lose all credibility."

"So you grade your half credibly and I'll do my thing over here," Roman told him. "Now, see, this guy obviously just spilled his soda over the essay part so you can't even see what he wrote, and I think that deserves a solid B."

As they scratched away, the Huntsman approached Zorg, who had taken a seat in the corner, once again at work on his sketchpad. The page he was working on bore rough designs for what appeared to be cubes, and also a belt of some sort.

"Those are not traditional weapons," the Huntsman told him.

"A weapon don't always gotta be the flashy part," Zorg replied. "Now these right here are about matchin' the form and function to the end user. Got the basic concepts of these off Ock, I'm bein' honest, but now I'm refinin' 'em."

"What of tools to defeat the Grimm?" the Huntsman asked. "More specifically: if I came to you with a specific Grimm in mind, would you be able to design a weapon that would dispose of it immediately?"

"The way you phrased that sounded like a doubt," Zorg told him. "What ya should be askin'…well, just gimme the name of the monster an' the specs we're lookin' for."

"I have found this Grimm bestiary." The Huntsman showed Zorg the book from the Haven library. "There are certain creatures in here, loath as I am to say it, that might be useful if turned to our personal use."

"Keep talkin'," Zorg said, flipping to a blank page in his sketchbook.

Meanwhile, on the other side of the office, Vexen had put up a large projection screen to which he'd connected Kokichi's scroll. Here, he swiped through the photos that Kokichi had snapped in the marketplace, looking over the specific people his eyes were already trained to pick out.

"So?" Drakken stepped in beside him. "What's this about?"

"I am attempting to gather more intel," Vexen replied. "We may know the names of our foes. But observing them can tell us still more." With a click, the screen changed to show a profile view of Kairi. "For instance: that SHE has changed her look. The outfit suggests she is willing to sacrifice function for frivolity…and yet the boots speak to otherwise. As for her hair, it seems she's finally noticed how cumbersome the former length was."

"Yours is pretty long," Drakken pointed out. "Isn't THAT cumbersome?"

Vexen clicked to the next picture without addressing Drakken's question. "Such a shame," he relented. "In another world, another time, perhaps she could have been an asset to us. I tried, in her youth, to educate her. To teach her the ways of magic and science, in hopes that she would utilize that knowledge to step into her own as an heir to power. And yet…perhaps I should be glad that she disappointed me. After all, I could not have her standing in the way of my own ascent."

His brow furrowed as he beheld her smiling visage. "All of it, wasted," he muttered. "The hours spent reading her textbooks she would only say were boring. She admired flowers, so I thought that a good springboard for taxonomy, but she instead wanted to play childish games with Ienzo, dragging him to her dolls or the checkerboard. The initial week I spent teaching her to wield replicas of every single one of the Organization's weapons, knowing her purpose would only be fulfilled once she could mimic each…and her complaint that Lunatic was too heavy for her fragile hands. The blankness with which she regarded my lectures about conducting reconnaissance to Xemnas' standards – "

"Wait a minute," Drakken broke in. "That can't be right. It doesn't make any sense!"

"How is anything I say nonsensical?" Vexen asked.

"You said you left her long before you joined that Organization of fools," Drakken reminded him, "and you didn't attempt to make contact with her until after…er…you know. The big kaboom. So there's no reason you should've been teaching her how to work in the Organization."

"I know what I remember," Vexen snapped, "and it is definitely – "

He stopped short. "No," he realized, "that can't be right. But why would my memory make such a connection? It cannot be going faulty."

"I dunno." Drakken shrugged. "Maybe you knew another girl her age who had the same face shape and haircut around that time?"

"Don't be preposterous," Vexen huffed. "Who could I possibly know that – "

And he gasped, chills coursing through him as the name bubbled up from his throat: "XION!"

...

A/N: I haven't exactly finished Tales of Zestiria yet. I tried to keep the Lastonbell scene open-ended so it doesn't contradict anything in the canon I haven't seen, but if there's an error, please forgive. I just really wanted to connect Eraqus' journey to that world for the thematic reasons I picked out.