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.

137. Unapologetic Apathy

A/N: This is basically a darkfic now. With comedy and romance. The trigger warnings from previous chapters persist and will for an undefined amount of chapters.

...

"Mim! MIM! MIMIMIMIMIMIM!"

Roman came hurtling into the office, blanched and sweating, eyes about ready to burst from their widened sockets.

Mim and Neo were casually sitting on the desk and having a chat (well, one was chatting and the other using nonverbal modes of communication) about unorthodox murder implements when he burst into the room, drawing all eyes. "Oh, WHAT is it?" Mim asked, rolling her eyes.

Roman skidded up to the desk. Nearly falling. Neo could tell he was off balance in more ways than one. "Answer me right now, no lies, time-sensitive question," he panted rapidly. "Did Archie and the Huntsman go after the Apathy?"

Neo's own eyes widened. She flinched. She looked to Mim, questioning silently.

"Of course they didn't," Mim told Roman. "After all, they both know – "

"DON'T YOU FUCK WITH ME RIGHT NOW, MIM!" Roman screamed. "If they're after those fuckers, they're fucking DEAD, do you get me?"

Mim shrugged. "And so what if they are? Mozenrath could just bring them back. Not that they are. They aren't."

"Mim, Mim…" Roman ran his hands through his hair, smoothing it nervously. "No, no no, you don't understand…" His voice cracked. He paced back and forth before the desk, unable to keep his cool. "The little liar, he hinted to me, he told me, and I need you to tell me it was a lie, I NEED you to tell me he was lying because I was the one who was lying when I said it was a skill thing because THE APATHY ARE THE ENTIRE REASON I DIDN'T HAVE ANY FRIENDS OR FAMILY BESIDES NEO TO SPEAK OF WHEN YOU FOUND ME, OKAY? THEY'RE ALL DEAD! THE APATHY KILLED THEM FUCKING ALL AND I CAN'T LOSE HIM THAT WAY!"

Mim normally enjoyed suffering. But in this case, she recognized that she had gone too far – which was an admission only made for her closest, vilest of friends. "Well, that certainly changes things," she said. "They took a ship out to Argus while you were on your little nightclub adventure. They wanted to see the look on your face when they proved you wrong – "

A massive thud. Mim looked to her left to see that Neo had fallen plumb off the desk. The younger woman pried herself up to her hands and knees, her entire body trembling. Mim couldn't see from this angle, but her eyes also watered from the very memory.

"Nonononono, this is bad, this is BAD," Roman kept whimpering. "Did he – did they do that to get me out of the house? So they could – no, no, noooooo, it doesn't matter, they're gonna – I can't – I can't DO this – "

Neo was hugging her knees to her chest, rocking back and forth.

And because they were two of Mim's closest and vilest friends, Mim suggested, "You know…I could maybe open a Corridor to that place they were going. What was it called, again? Brun-something – "

"THERE?" Roman's shriek could've broken glass. "Why? WHY? Why, why, WHY ARE THEY THERE? No, no, fuck, no, I can't – "

"I'm saying I'll open a Corridor," Mim said. "Their ship would be touching down right about now, so you'd be able to head them off. Of course, since I've never been to Brun-something, there's an inherent risk involved. The other end of the portal could splinch you into a wall."

"I'LL TAKE IT!" Roman yelled, turning toward her, hands out and shaking, veins visible. "BECAUSE BEING FUSED WITH A FUCKING WALL ISN'T ANYWHERE NEAR AS BAD AS WHAT'S GONNA HAPPEN IF I DON'T BEAT THEM THERE!"

Mim didn't argue further. She cast out a hand, and the portal opened.

Roman made to dash, but was held back by a sharp tug on his sleeve. He looked down into the pleading eyes of Neo.

"I HAVE to," he told her. "You know – "

She shook her head, lips pursed. Not because she wanted him to stay. She rose, making her intent clear.

"Nononononono," Roman told her. "YOU get to stay here and not have to deal with this – "

She jerked harder on his sleeve with one hand. Brought out her scroll with the other. Tapped furiously. Then stuck it right up into Roman's face so he could read it:

"Brunswick is MY past too and im going. also after beacon? you dont FUCKING go anywhere WITHOUT ME"

He sighed. "Okay. You can come with. But if I tell you to run…you fucking run."

Neo nodded. Roman was sure she wasn't actually going to follow that order, but all the same, he couldn't deny that as afraid as he was to throw her back into that situation, her accompaniment made him feel safer.

Then he bolted. And she went right along with him.

The Corridor closed, and Mim muttered while folding her arms, "I hate, hate, HATE feeling guilty."

...

Lifted of their merfolk forms, Mozenrath, Yzma, Wuya, Zevon, Shocker, Mysterio, Gill, Vexen, and Deymos strode amongst the peaks and crags of the divine interdimensional space known as the Fade, taking note of broken statuary and furniture littered in the miasma.

"You know, I've never actually been here," Wuya remarked. "Always thought I was missing out. Turns out I was right. It would've made a lovely vacation spot."

"Speak for yourself," Yzma huffed. "I'll agree with you if and when we see a beach. With an actual sun."

Because Yzma was walking so stiffly, Wuya put an arm around her and teasingly pulled her close before they strolled on.

Deymos had made his way to the front of the group. "Okay, so you know how I said I used to hide out in the Great Abyss from Grandpa Neptune so he couldn't make me do boring prince stuff? Now, that wouldn't've worked on Xemnas, since he could get down there real easy. Also I swore off my homeworld for obvious reasons of remaining anonymous. But this place? You can't even get here with a normal Corridor. Entrances and exits are rare. THIS is where I'd come to hide from Xemnas. Vex, you remember those weeks I'd just be gone for no reason? I was hanging out here."

"I suppose that does answer several questions," Vexen mused. "All the same, it seems incongruous for you. I know now that you never were quite so cowardly as you seemed – or perhaps you were, and that's the point – but the Fade seems a place where fears breed. And you expect me to believe you spent time here feeling safer than among the Organization?"

"First of all, did YOU feel safe among the Organization?" Deymos asked. "Especially since…you know…" He fanned out his hands, waggling his fingers as he made a "Kaploooffsshhh" noise.

Vexen flinched. "I won't dignify that. You can guess at my feelings."

"So compare the two. At least here, everything's honest about wanting to kill you. In Never Was, you just had to guess." His posture became a little tighter. "That said, I'd suggest keeping a low profile. I have a safehouse up ahead that marks a crossroads, and the exit that'll spit you into Lalotai is just a jump from it. But until we get there, just be ready for the stuff of nightmares."

"Not to worry!" Zevon crowed, holding up his newest prize: the Star of Isis. "I will banquish all potential nemenemies with my newfound power! OBSERVATE!"

"ZEVON!" Yzma hissed. "WHAT DO YOU THINK YOU'RE – "

At Zevon's behest, a bright red beam of energy emitted from the ruby, shooting into the horizon and colliding with a large peak, which it brought crumbling down in an avalanche. Minutes after the debris had stopped rumbling, there was the sound of a massive roar, prompting Deymos to yelp and hide right behind Vexen.

"Now look what you went and did!" Deymos hissed. "Do you have any idea what is PROBABLY after us right now?"

"Uh…" Zevon considered whether or not this was really worth an apology.

"Give me that!" Mozenrath swiped the ruby from Zevon's hand, stuffing it away in his own bag. "You don't get this back until we're out of the Fade."

"YOU – " Zevon stormed toward Mozenrath. "THAT'S MY RUBY! GIVE IT BACK! MOTHER, MAKE HIM GIVE IT BACK!"

"Zevon," Yzma stated, "you can have your toy back once you're able to play with it responsibly. Now let Mozenrath hold onto it so that we don't all die."

Mozenrath smirked; "Mom said it's MY turn to wield the Corona Aurora."

Zevon just sulked.

"How very interesting," Vexen said as he kept walking, Deymos keeping close behind. He put out a hand, summoning up several cold winds to gather within it. "Is this another one of your productions? It seems, for all intents and purposes, to be real fright."

"Yeah, well, shut up!" Deymos hissed. "You mentioned how dangerous things were in here! And I didn't think I'd be dragging a moron along!"

"Ah, the story of my tenure in the WHAM ARMY," Vexen sighed with a soft smirk. "Or, really, my tenure anywhere." His shield materialized in hand, held out front. "And this, before you ask, is to ease your quite obvious distress. After all, anyone could've predicted that you would falter in such an environment while I remained calm."

"Double shut up," Deymos muttered, folding his arms. "There's a reason you're the meat shield, y'know."

"Oh, wouldn't it be a pity if we walked all the way there uneventfully, and your use of me to intercept danger and take a deadly blow for you was utterly born of your paranoia?" Now Vexen was having the kind of fun he actually liked; he fired his broadening smirk back over his shoulder at Deymos.

"Wouldn't it be funny if I stopped giving you directions to the safehouse?" Deymos retorted.

"BOYS!" Yzma snapped. "Don't MAKE me turn this procession around!"

Deymos groaned. "Fine. We're heading left next chance. Also, now might be a good time to brief me on what you guys actually do besides go treasure hunting."

"Did I hear you ask for me to lecture you?" Vexen replied.

"Wha – no, not YOU!" Deymos protested.

"The WHAM ARMY was founded upon Mozenrath's first attempt to join Maleficent's forces," Vexen began. "Though, I suppose a more proper introduction would be to explain a little bit of Mozenrath's history."

"Vexen, stop," Mozenrath groaned. "The last thing we need is for you to make him mad – "

Mysterio put up a great faux coughing fit as he grabbed Mozenrath's hand and dragged him off to the side of the path.

"And this is about what, exactly?" Mozenrath asked him.

Shocker fell in on his other side as Mysterio explained, "Don't you see it? All the pageantry behind their hatred? This is a GOOD thing. They're relishing this. They may appear to be at odds, but this is actually most likely the best you're going to see them get along, so don't YOU ruin it."

"If I didn't know better…" Shocker glanced to where the two were bickering away.

"What?" Mysterio asked. "You think they might be – "

"Nah, Vex wouldn't go for it." Shocker shrugged. "He's a taken man, and 'sides…the early signs might be there, but I ain't got a clue how it's gonna work in the long run."

"I'll bet you twenty bucks you're wrong," Mysterio countered. "Twenty bucks that say Deymos homewrecks."

"We ain't even keepin' him!" Shocker argued.

"SO?"

And now those two were bickering, and Mozenrath just quietly excused himself from the conversation to walk closer to Yzma and Wuya.

...

The Danann Highway that connected Port Zekson and the Empyrean's Throne to the major trade routes of Midgand was a wondrous sight to behold: a dirt road bordered by rolling plains, an open sky of bright blue overhead.

It was also a familiar sight to behold, for one person. "Call me crazy – " Harley began.

"That ship sailed a long time ago," Giovanni broke in.

"Yes it did!" Harley affirmed. "But also, I'm pretty sure I saw this place in my dream, or somewhere like it. Y'know, my dream-in-a-dream. My dream-dream! I think there might be somebody here to pick up!"

"I dunno." Yang surveyed the scenery. "Looks like a lot of empty to me."

"Something here feels…wrong," Velvet said cautiously. "Maybe it's because I'm one of the dreamers, but it seems like there's something here we don't know about. I don't know how else to put it."

"I feel it, too," Laphicet agreed. "Stay alert."

"But it's such a lovely day!" the Spot protested. "How could anything horrid be lurking in a place like this?"

"I don't underestimate horrid things anymore," Dr. Lopez brought up.

"Eh, I'm with Spot," Giovanni said, shrugging dramatically. "There's nothing here worth worrying about. It's just a nice day. …FOR CRIME AND VILLAINY! Can't you just feel it? This is such a peaceful place, it's ABSOLUTELY where we should do something HEINOUS! FEAR US, WORLD, FOR GIOVANNI POTAGE AND HIS BAND OF HEATHENS IS HERE TO WREAK HAVOC!"

Bang.

If it had been anyone else but Giovanni hit, the bullet would've resulted in an instant death. It was a perfect kneecap shot. But because it was Giovanni, and he had the physiology of one from the Lexicosm, the shell just bounced off his knee and depleted his energy a little as he gave an "OW!"

It was obvious that he'd been shot in the leg; the group was suddenly back-to-back-to-back, on high alert.

"HEY!" Yang yelled at the surrounding scenery. "Come out with your hands up, and I MIGHT not blow your brains to bits!"

"I'd suggest approaching her first." Velvet had extended her consuming claw, red and wicked. "BECAUSE I WON'T HESITATE!"

"Owwww," Giovanni squeaked, clutching at his knee, which really only had a small bruise on it.

Laphicet noticed it first: a slight movement in the brush. As though the brush itself was moving. There was no obvious figure, but the scenery was being disturbed. He nodded in that direction; "There. Someone's hidden."

There was the sudden flash of a portal opening, closing, then reopening again, and then the Spot had someone invisible in a headlock, yelling, "I'VE GOT THEM! I'VE GOT – "

Before their eyes, the invisible intruder had flipped him around, pinning one arm tightly up against his back. "NEVER MIND; THEY'VE GOT ME!"

"JONATHAN!" Dr. Lopez screamed, breaking into a run. But Yang beat her there, using the position of the headlocker to judge where the head would be. Ember Celica clicked into position as Yang pulled to a halt next to the Spot's captor.

She nodded toward Velvet, who was speeding toward the area. "If I were you," she said, "I'd show myself before SHE got here."

There was a disgusted sigh. Then a deep voice rumbled, "Call off your forces and I'll reveal myself."

Yang put up a hand toward Velvet, who ground to a halt, and Harley shrieked, "EVERYBODY STOP!"

Once the chaos had calmed, the Spot was released, and the intruder made himself known. He shimmered, his camouflage technology abating. He was tall and broad, and made all the more intimidating by the way his entire body was shielded in dark, futuristic armor – a deep gray, almost black, with moss-green accents. In one hand, he clutched a chunky assault rifle.

"What are you doing here?" Velvet seethed.

"Fulfilling a contract," the armored man stated. "I wouldn't be worried, if I were you. I'm not being paid to kill you. Just incapacitate you. Which I would've done if it weren't for your friend's advanced bio-armor."

"Advanced…?" Harley tilted her head. Then glanced back at Giovanni, who was clutching his knee and hopping around on the opposite foot. "Oh, Gio's just kinda…like that."

"I see," the armored man replied. "Well, actually, I don't, but at this point, I'm used to that. It's clear now that combat would result in more blood than any of us wants spilled. I'm hoping we can reach a verbal agreement before I have to escalate things."

"Who paid you to shoot us?" Yang asked.

"A performer in Loegres," the man explained. "She knew you'd be coming down this road with the intent to ambush her rival. And don't ask me to explain it, but she needs Majelu to arrive at Loegres safe and sound so she can prove her superior talent without any foul play involved."

"Majelu…?" Harley repeated. "Uh…we don't know anybody by that name."

"Majelu is a famous dancer," Velvet said incredulously. "She performs in Loegres from time to time. And I think I even know who might want to pay you off to make sure she could humiliate Majelu in person. But why would you think we're the people out to ambush her?"

"The local information broker had the tip-off that an ambush would be hiding on this highway, waiting to capture Majelu and hold her for ransom," the armored man explained. "And the Bloodwings are never wrong. Then, right on schedule, along you come, boasting about the horrible things you'll do. It didn't take a genius mind to put two and two together."

"Wait, whaaaaat?" Harley was on the verge of laughing. "Oh, no, ya got it all wrong! We ain't lookin' ta hold anybody innocent hostage! Now, somebody who deserved it, that'd be fine in my book any ol' day!"

Yang sighed. "Giovanni likes to steal things. He likes to be VERY LOUD about stealing things. He doesn't steal dancers."

"Wha – of COURSE not!" Giovanni sputtered. "I meant 'wreak havoc' like public vandalism or disruption of the peace with loud noises or something that's evil and actually FUN! I dunno who this Majelu is, but she doesn't sound like she deserves to be ransomed. …Does she?"

"Her record is clean," the armored man stated. "I double-checked that much. So. You're telling me you have nothing to do with this situation, and you just blundered in."

"Pretty much," the Spot confirmed. "Horrible timing, really."

"Or maybe not." Harley strode up to the armored man. "Ya got a name?"

He bristled. "More than one. The one you're allowed to know is 'Locus.'"

"Locus," Harley repeated. She then nodded. "Eeyup. You were on the list."

"The list?" Locus asked. "Are you suggesting I'm the real target? I won't lie; I probably 'deserve' it more than Majelu by miles. But I'm not going down without a fight."

"Nonononono!" Harley protested. "See, I'm puttin' together a little crime squad, but with a moral line in the sand. This crazy girl, an' I don't mean that in the fun way, rounded up everyone on my list an' threw 'em into this dream world. This ain't at all where you're from, is it?"

"That armor looks more science than magic to me," Yang affirmed. "And this whole world is more magic than science."

"…So I am awake," Locus muttered. "And with a rational explanation as to how I ended up on this planet."

"Strongman for hire, right?" Harley told him. "You were an assassin, but that fell through, an' now you're tryin'a get better."

"'Better' is a matter of opinion," Locus told her. "But yes. I'm moving away from killing for money. Protecting others from the hostile is a different story."

"And…you're all alone, right?"

Locus was silent a while before saying, "I was in a partnership. That partnership no longer benefits me. I'm not in need of another one."

Harley was about to start slowly egging Locus into deciding he wanted another one, but it was actually Velvet who spoke next: "I said that, once. This anger in you…and I can tell there's anger…I had it, once."

"You still do," Locus told her.

"It's a different anger," Velvet said. "If you'd've seen me before…let's just leave the consequences to your imagination. But I know what it's like, to think you're better off alone. One of the people who taught me otherwise was your employer."

Locus waited a while before urging her, "…Go on."

"She had her own anger," Velvet stated. "We were both in our lowest of lows when we found each other, even if she pretended she wasn't. By the end of our journey together, we'd found new reasons to live. I can almost guarantee you that if we had never met, we'd both have met a swifter end, likely born of our own choices. I may not know you, but it seems like Harley is willing to offer you some reason to live as well. Do you really want to risk keeping on going it alone? Do you trust yourself?"

"I don't like how much she knows about me," Locus said. "I'll put that upfront."

"Hey, it ain't any creepier than that Blood thing you told us about!" Harley urged.

"I can guarantee you the Bloodwings already know more about you than you want them to," Velvet stated. "Do you want to take your chances with a crime syndicate you can't trust, or one you can?"

"I don't know I can trust you," Locus stated.

"You're hurting," Dr. Lopez reminded him. "All we can do right now is try."

"It doesn't seem very fair to just leave you here all in the dumps," the Spot agreed.

"You're already practically one of us!" Giovanni gasped. "You've got a cool villain name, and YOU USE IT MORE THAN YOUR REAL NAME!"

"But if that ain't enough for ya?" Harley shrugged. "How's this: we'll help ya stop the kidnappers."

"Now that's the first thing you've said that I can take stock in," Locus stated.

"Hey, it'll be fun!" Yang said casually. "You said you just wanted to incapacitate them, right? Knock 'em out and show off while doing it!"

"You're a gal after my own heart," Harley said, smitten.

"Whoever this 'Majelu' is," the Spot agreed, "I don't think it's becoming of us to let her get hurt. She's not involved in all of this."

"And I know the person who paid you really, really wants her to arrive in Loegres safely," Velvet said with a soft smile. "I owe it to that person to help make that a reality."

"All right," Locus relented. "You can help me stave off the attack. After that, I'll see how I feel. No promises."

"ALL RIGHT, CAMOUFLAGE TIME!" Giovanni dove into the brush, picking up handfuls of leaves to rub into his hair messily.

Locus sighed. Not exactly his ideal operative team. But then again, it had also been a long time since he'd gotten a good old-fashioned scoff at someone more immature than he.

He was the only one with camouflaging armor, so they had to do some jostling and creative positioning to get everyone truly hidden in the brush. Once Locus had dumped no less than three bushes' worth of twigs and leaves atop Giovanni to hide his bright colors, the Heathens sat back to stake out their territory.

"Anyone for cards?" Harley asked as she held up a deck she'd imagined up.

"I'm game for a game," Yang replied. "Though we're probably gonna play another round of 'which card games are universal to all of us' before anything actually involving the cards."

"I mean, I'd guess Go Fish is pretty universal," Harley mused. "Also pretty simple. Doesn't get real crazy. Kinda want the crazy."

"Do you know 99?" Locus asked.

"Huh?" Harley regarded him curiously.

"I asked if you knew the game of 99," Locus reiterated. "If you don't, it's fairly simple to learn, but has rules that should keep you entertained."

"All right," Yang told him. "Hit us."

Locus started out a hand with Yang, Harley, and Velvet, showing them how to tally their points and watch that their scores didn't overflow and knock them out of play. Giovanni, Laphicet, the Spot, and Dr. Lopez watched in earnest, memorizing the rules Locus laid down.

Then, midway through a hand, Velvet suddenly laid down her cards, face-up.

"Pretty sure that's not how the game works," Giovanni told her.

"No," Velvet said, turning her gaze to Danann Highway. "It looks like one of the parties we're interested in just showed up."

A caravan of three horse-drawn wagons was rolling down the road. Their awnings were decorated with bells and tassels of all sorts, and the people who drove them and walked alongside them were dressed in a similarly flamboyant manner, with bright colors. The horses' accessories matched as well. Up front, an old man drove the lead wagon, and seated next to him was a young woman clothed in pink, a crop top and loose pants with rather revealing absences of fabric on the thighs. The man was bald; the woman's light-brown hair was piled neatly atop her head.

"There. In the front." Locus had taken a kneeling position, looking through his riflescope at the pair in the first wagon. "That's Majelu and her trainer, Valta. They're who we're protecting."

"If we've been here the whole time," Velvet said, "and not noticed anything, then our ambushers are likely across the highway."

"A good call," Locus told her. "Or it would be, if this entire troop wasn't more focused on playing cards than our surroundings."

"I saw the caravan, didn't I?" Velvet posed smugly.

Yang scanned the hill across the way. Then noticed the rustle. "There," she said, pointing. "That's our target."

Now they were visible: silhouettes darting through the scrub.

"They're moving exactly like suspicious people," Giovanni noticed. "As a bona fide suspicious person myself, I should know."

Locus cocked the trigger of his rifle for the first shot. "This would be easier if I had a visual on their forms. As it stands, I'm going from avoiding a killshot to guessing at avoiding a killshot."

"If I may," the Spot piped in. "I could get most of us, if not all of us, to the other side of the road without having to cross the wagons down below. That might make it easier, wouldn't it?"

"If you can do that," Locus told him, "then do it now, and quietly."

The bandits who'd hoped to take the famous dancer hostage and ransom her to Valta for thousands of gald were nearly ready to strike. Majelu's wagon drew nearer and nearer. A few more trots of the horse and they'd have her in their grasp. No expense would Valta spare trying to get her back. They numbered eight, crouched in the bushes.

"Hey!" Harley hissed from within their midst. "What's everybody looking at?"

"The target, idiot – " one of them whispered back.

And another seethed, "She's not one of ours!"

Harley just waved mischievously to the bandits at her left and right; "Hi hi. So, how d'you guys wanna play this? Easy way or hard way?"

A rustling of knives drawing from sheaths.

"Hard way, I take it," Harley said. "Okay. The odds really ain't good for ya, but we can go."

She seized the bandit nearest to her, flipping him over and raising her bat high. "Don't worry!" she said. "I know how to use this thing without killin' ya! I'm a doctor! Well, a doctor of psychology, anyway – "

And with a slam, she brought it down. The victim didn't die, but his pained yell indicated that some damage had been done.

The others had made to rush Harley, but Harley's own cavalry swept in, initiating a melee. One man got closer to Harley, drawing a long and wicked dagger to plunge into her back, but this man was seized by the back of his shirt and suplexed up over Yang's head. She tossed him into the air, then leapt up after him to punch him further up into the sky. Pointing Ember Celica down, Yang blasted upward like a rocket, outpacing her opponent's rise – and she dealt an even harder punch to send him careening into the ground below.

Velvet parried the blade of another with the blade she kept up her sleeve, expertly blocking every single blow. The bandit pressed harder, so Velvet began to lean more on her dexterity, flipping back away from him, then shooting to a new location and flipping toward her opponent to deal a sharp kick. When her opponent came back with three throwing knives in each hand, she figured it was time to use the Consuming Claw, slashing out. Blood rained. He was still alive, but in no condition to throw knives.

"TELEPORTS BEHIND YOU!" Giovanni's cry prompted a bandit to whirl on him, hoping to stab an easy victory. That victory became less easy when boiling-hot soup was chucked into his face.

"WHY DOES IT BURN?" the bandit screamed, falling to his knees.

"They never expect the dill-pickle soup," Giovanni said proudly. "Literal salt in the wound. You wanna taste even more defeat? I'm serious; I have about fifty more flavors."

The bandit attempted to make some sort of remark, but his mouth was filled with butternut squash soup (also boiling).

Laphicet flew around his opponent, deftly evading all strikes. "This could've been over immediately," he said, "but my associates would prefer you didn't die." He flicked his finger and thumb toward the bandit, sending out sparks of light that bowled him over and seared through his clothing.

Dr. Lopez leapt upon one of the bandits from behind, legs wrapping around his waist as she covered his eyes. "How DARE you target a defenseless woman!" she seethed.

"Hey!" the bandit protested. "In my defense, I need the money!"

"For what?" Dr. Lopez urged.

"My life's only comfortable right now!" the bandit grumbled. "I'm sick of those Abbey fat cats living larger than me! I need to outstrip them by no small margin!"

"Oh, so you're not comfortable with being COMFORTABLE?" the Spot's voice sounded out. "So you're going to hurt someone else for the MONEY? It's people like you who make me sick! Oh, Sylvia, heads up!"

Dr. Lopez let the staggering bandit go, and a second highwayman hurtled out of a dark portal, bowling him over. From the sounds of the screams, at least one knife had gone where it shouldn't.

"And THAT'S what I call 'warped'!" the Spot boasted as he stepped out of the portal, making sure to seal both behind him.

"GOOD ONE!" Harley yelled, and Yang flashed a thumbs-up.

Locus had engaged the biggest and toughest-looking of the ambush, pummeling him relentlessly with fists, elbows, and knees. A roundhouse kick sent the man down at last, and Locus planted a heavy boot on him to keep him down, pointing his rifle at the man.

"Majelu has an important appointment in Loegres," he explained. "She needs to get properly humiliated. Are you going to stand in the way of protecting her until she gets there?"

"You think you're so tough!" the bandit spat.

Locus pointed the barrel at his chest. Moved it slowly down, hovering it over the man's crotch. When he realized the lack of fear in this man's eyes told him something very poignant. "…You have no idea what this is, do you?"

"It's the worst-designed bludgeon I've ever seen!" the man spat.

"I'd be careful what you say while I had this," Locus told him.

"HA!" the man barked. "What are you, Majelu's boyfriend? Tell you what. You let me go, and I won't return her to you soiled!"

"Don't say I didn't warn you."

Bang.

And that particular bandit wouldn't be using his nethers to do any soiling anytime soon.

With the entire ambush either bleeding, broken, or unconscious, the eight Heathens exchanged expressions of joy (and one blank helmet).

"YEAH!" Harley pumped her fist in the air. "GO TEAM!"

"NOBODY is a bigger threat to the public safety than us!" Giovanni crowed. "Except we're actually DECENT about how we use our evil!"

Locus was the last to realize that he, himself, was chuckling. The others all looked gobsmacked at him.

"Didn't exactly take you for the laughing sort," the Spot admitted. "But this is good! It's team bonding!"

"I told you," Velvet said sternly.

"You did," Locus replied. "That was…admittedly as entertaining as it was productive."

"Sooooo?" Harley sidled up to him. "You in or what?"

"I'll act as a bodyguard for your syndicate, free of charge," Locus told her. "What happens next depends on the circumstances."

"We'll take it!" Yang said proudly.

"Now let's go do some RESPECTABLE crime!" Giovanni crowed. "I mean, the one guy mentioned that the Abbey guys live in, like, these really rich houses, and rich-guy windows are SO fun to throw bricks through."

"I'd be down," Yang confirmed. "Sounds like they could stand to be taken down a peg. Think about how the other half lives."

"Oh, trust me," Velvet told her. "No one needs to be taken down a peg more than the Abbey."

"I shouldn't endorse this," Laphicet added. "But I'm going to."

"I'll need to rendez-vous with my employer in order to collect," Locus stated.

"Trust me," Velvet told him. "I also have my reasons for needing to meet your employer."

"And those are?" Locus asked.

Velvet smiled. "I've missed her."

...

The arched gateway to the small farming commune was nearly blotted out by snow, as this close to the city of Argus, the climate plunged into the cold. But with a gentle sweep of the huntstaff, the snow was melted away to reveal the name "Brunswick Farms."

"This would be the target location," the Huntsman said.

"Shall we just get this over with?" Archibald Snatcher was wringing his hands to combat the temperatures that surrounded them both.

"The sooner we show Roman that we know what we're doing," the Huntsman said, "on this or any world, the better."

They strode beneath the arch, entering the small commune and having a look around at the towering barns, the deserted snowy fields, and the modest houses. It didn't take long to figure out that something was horribly wrong here.

"You know," Snatcher said, "I would've expected a neighborhood like this to have far more…er…neighbors."

"They obviously weren't Huntsmen," the Huntsman said. "Likely civilians, unarmed, untrained, unskilled. Unlike us."

"So you're hypothesizing that they're all…"

"A grim reality. But the only plausible explanation." The grip on the huntstaff tightened.

Snatcher drew his own weapon, mallet in one hand and pistol in the other. Not that there was any reason for him to be frightened, of course. After all, he could hold his own even without the Huntsman here.

Still, when the Huntsman suddenly laid a hand on his shoulder, he nearly jumped several feet high. "There," the Huntsman whispered, pointing discreetly to one of the largest buildings. "I saw movement. We're close."

Snatcher looked where the Huntsman indicated. It seemed to be an ordinary building. Squarish. No signs of movement that he could see.

That made it worse, somehow. Because his imagination could conjure up any number of things. After all, he'd once made a living telling lies about horrible monsters that lived under a town, and this might be the place where such statements about rivers of blood and mountains of bone were actually real, and as vivid as his mind painted it.

But the idea that he was at all apprehensive was too repulsive to entertain. So instead of voicing doubt, he asked, "Have we got a strategy for entering?"

"No need," the Huntsman said. "Whatever's there, we can face head-on. We enter normally."

Well, "normally" was out when they had to break down the locked door, but once inside, they beheld a dark and empty house where their footfalls echoed off every corner. So silent, so eerie. It seemed every new nook of Brunswick Farms was just a little more unsettling than the last.

"We split up," the Huntsman said.

"Wha-wha-we what now?" Snatcher babbled. "I should think that is the WORST idea. That is UNIMAGINABLY stupid, and shame on you for imagining it!"

"If you're frightened, you can, by all means, leave."

"I'm merely being SENSIBLE, Mr. Liu. It's far more logical for us to work together and cover one another's backs."

"It will be of no consequence to me if you leave," the Huntsman reiterated. "Lest you decide to drag me with you."

"I wasn't thinking of EITHER of those things!" Snatcher asserted. And then it clicked. "Unless, of course, that's what you want me to do. Give you an excuse to – "

"Not at all," the Huntsman said quickly. "Then if you agree that you can hold your own, and that I can hold my own, there should be no problem with a parting of ways."

"Indubitably."

So the Huntsman took the upper level, and Snatcher the lower. The stairs creaked beneath the Huntsman's boots at every step.

He'd faced tougher foes, more intimidating ones, than anything that could possibly be here. So what was giving him such unease? Was he suspecting that Roman's challenge was about more than just mockery? Or was it simply that his foe hadn't truly shown itself so much as once?

Or maybe the thought that at least one person here was a trained Huntsman and had been felled?

A putrid odor reached his nostrils. He gripped his staff tighter, rounding a corner and listening at the door of the room that provided the smell's source. After waiting a while and hearing no noise, the Huntsman kicked in the door, knocking it off one hinge as he pointed his staff at an unmoving bed.

So the Apathy wasn't the source of the smell. Then what was? For the Huntsman now realized he recognized the scent. He wasn't so used to the human variant, but he was well acquainted with the stench of carrion.

And then he noticed the lump beneath the covers. The vaguely human-shaped lump.

Gingerly, he reached out, gripping the edge of the blanket. Peeling back slowly. Then ripping it off in one great motion.

Two rotting corpses. Definitely human. Dressed in rough, loose clothing that spoke of an impoverished background.

The Huntsman knew what to look for in this case, so he began the autopsy. These folks had simply rotted away. Unsurprising, given the effect the Apathy was supposed to have. In fact, there seemed to be no marks on them. Nothing but natural decay.

This could only have happened over the course of several days, and likely exacerbated by the fact that these people called this place home. A mere visitor, especially one who was armed, would have plenty of time to shuffle away. The Huntsman was confident he needn't be worried.

He concluded his investigation, returning to descend the stairway.

(He really should've looked into one more room, where the eldest child of the family had actually attempted to escape, and rather than dying in his bed, he perished plastered all over the walls of his room.)

Snatcher, in the meantime, was roving the main floor, poking at any decorative knickknacks he could find. The place was dreadfully rustic. No flair whatsoever. He couldn't imagine actually having to live in this house. The storage facility on Curd's Way was luxurious by comparison, as far as he was concerned.

And of course, they had a photograph framed on the wall, because no kitschy farmhouse was complete without one. This, he stopped to investigate, if only because it had several people depicted in it. (Not that it was meant to be an indication of how many people the Apathy had taken down, because of course one Archibald Snatcher was greater than the sum total of whoever could be in that photograph.)

It had been taken in the summer, with green forestation providing the background for the Brunswick Farms arched gateway. And a host of people were stood out front, arranged for the most optimal image. Smiles abounded, save for a few. The man at the center of it all, who seemed to be positioned as a patriarch would be, certainly looked very sour at the camera.

"Likely your fault you got overrun," Snatcher muttered. "You look like the sort who bites off more than he can chew."

And he was going to discard the photograph after that, but a certain detail caught his eye. A passing similarity. A man who just looked so oddly familiar.

And Snatcher couldn't just leave this alone. He took the photograph toward the window, holding it up to the dim light as he brushed dust away from its glass. And once the image was properly illuminated, he could finally see –

That the man he'd noticed had brown eyes and therefore couldn't possibly be who he'd thought.

Silly to think there was any connection, anyhow. Though it would've explained a lot of Roman's behavior, had Snatcher actually been onto something.

Wait.

There was also a child in that photo. One who looked the spitting image of the man who'd caught Snatcher's attention. And his eyes were radiating a color that could have been blue…or a particularly vivid green.

And what a strange coincidence, now that Snatcher was looking at it in that light, because the patriarch, he had three children assembled around him and his wife, and the youngest of them was giving a mischievous smile to the camera that Snatcher was sure he'd seen before. Pieces were starting to click into place.

"No," he muttered. "It can't be. It's not possible! Purely coincidence. What would the odds be, anyhow?"

But if it was what he was starting to think it was, then wouldn't that suggest that all of Roman's harsh words toward the idea of collecting the Apathy –

"What have you found?"

Again, the Huntsman had startled Snatcher unnecessarily, and the latter dropped the item in his hands, hearing the tinkle of shattering glass on the floor below. "Do NOT do that again," Snatcher hissed at him. "And for the record…it was nothing. You?"

"My guess was proven correct," the Huntsman said. "They all died here. Of simple lassitude. The Apathy screamed. And they lost their will, collectively."

"So you're saying that a man with strong will could overpower the beasts, then."

"Our weaponry would also give us far more of an advantage." The Huntsman nodded.

They looked at each other in silence, neither wanting to actually voice the question they were both wondering: were they in over their heads, and just making excuses at this point?

Snatcher turned his attention back to the photograph. Whether it was a coincidence or not, he needed to ask Roman about it later. So he quickly bent, scooped it up, straightened back up, wiped off the glass, started to undo the back –

Wait. Something wasn't right.

"Mr. Liu. When I dropped this particular trinket, you heard it shatter, did you not?"

"I did," the Huntsman replied.

"Then how is it whole?" Snatcher quickly pried away the backing, removed the photograph itself, and handed over the frame to the Huntsman.

"How…" The Huntsman turned it over in his hands, confused. Snatcher took that time to fold the photograph in half lengthwise, then widthwise, before it went into a pocket. Then the Huntsman looked up sharply, making the connection:

"We aren't alone in this house."

Dread settled in. Obviously, they'd heard something else break, and if something else had broken, then someone else had been the one to break it.

"Mr. Liu…" Snatcher cleared his throat. Shifted. "Are you feeling…quite all right?"

"I am not apprehensive, if that's what you're asking."

"No, rather…you're not feeling its effects, are you? Fatigue? Lethargy?"

The Huntsman thought it over. "No. And you?"

"Of course not."

"As I thought." The Huntsman nodded. "We have the will to overcome the Apathy. And furthermore, should that will fail, we will have plenty of time to make our escape before the rot sets in."

"Quite." A pause before Snatcher said, "This is your last chance to back out, you know. As for me, I want this settled once and for all. I'll apprehend the thing myself if I have to, and THEN he'll know he's got to put his faith back in me when I say he should."

"I'm not going anywhere except in pursuit of it," the Huntsman said. "I also need to prove a point to Roman, you know. He called my profession into question. The purpose I was trained for my entire life. And I'm not letting him get away with that."

"Then let us be off."

"Indeed."

And they stood there, each waiting for the other to make the first move for a good two minutes, before they simultaneously decided to sharply turn and make for the door further into the house's bowels without a word.

It wasn't difficult to figure out where the crash had come from. The house had a fully stocked bar, and the pungent smell of alcohol wafted up from a spill on the ground – a spill filled with glittering shards. A bottle had broken. In a place that a bottle shouldn't have been able to just fall on its own without someone knocking it over.

"There." The Huntsman gestured to a pair of cellar doors set on the far end of the room, angled to point most definitely down. "The only way it could've escaped."

"I'll have you eating your words yet, Roman," Snatcher muttered.

With renewed determination fueled by spite, they made for that far door together, bolstering themselves with bravado.

...

Somehow, the burger bar had turned into a contest of who could build the largest and strangest burger with the most toppings and still eat it. When Hannibal's shipment of rabbit's-foot stew arrived, right on schedule, the trainees decided to use it as a burger condiment for their contest.

Then they shuffled off to sleep, one by one. Until there were only three left in the room: Kazuichi, Weiss, and Ruby.

And once Ruby realized her two companions, she cut herself off midsentence with a "ANYWAY STORY OVER GOODNIGHT!" and sped away.

"Subtle, Ruby," Weiss sighed. "Reeeaaaal subtle."

And then she and Kazuichi looked at each other from across the room, seated on opposite chairs.

"I, uh…I can leave," Kazuichi suggested. "If you want – "

"There's still stuff we have to talk about," Weiss stated. "You know it."

"…Yeah." Kazuichi looked to the balcony door. "Wanna go outside or something?"

Weiss' hesitation was a little bit too long. Then she began, "Sure – "

"Oh," Kazuichi realized. "Yeah…I wouldn't wanna go anywhere alone with me either."

"It's not that!" Weiss said hurriedly. "It's just…" She sighed, wringing her hands. "I said I trust you, and I meant it. But you have to admit that today's information came as a…surprise. I just wanna know a little more."

"Um…okay." Kazuichi crossed his prosthetic leg over his flesh one nervously. "Shoot. Any question you want. No limits."

Of course, that particular motion drew Weiss' eye. She mulled it over.

"You wanna ask about the leg, don't you?" Kazuichi realized.

Weiss shook her head. "No. It's fi – "

"I cut it off," Kazuichi admitted. "Twice, actually. You saw that crazy lady with the pigtails? She was…like a cult leader, and I was in the cult. She died, and the rest of us cult people, we didn't like that. So we divided up her body and…um…this part of the story isn't…let's just say I had a leg that wasn't mine for a while. I decided to get rid of it once I turned my back on all that despair stuff. That didn't exactly go over as well as I'd thought. I just wanted to get rid of her. But now everyone's on high alert in case I hurt myself again, and, well, I didn't think that was a motivation at the time, but maybe it was."

"Who was she?" Weiss asked softly.

"Her name was Junko." Kazuichi shifted his gaze to his own shoe, unable to look Weiss in the eye. "Junko Enoshima. She wasn't even in our class, but our whole class was full of total wrecks, so she came over to us and offered to be our friend. Except she wasn't looking for friends. She was looking for followers. She had this whole philosophy about how our lives sucked because the world just sucks, and despair is all there is. Maybe she believed it? I dunno. Mighta just been some bullshit she spouted to get us in line. I was thinking about shit with my dad, and how my house was basically running out of money, and…and this girl. I was a real jackass to her. She joined the cult, too. I fucked up real bad with her. I was just so focused on getting her to like me that I got way too bummed out when she didn't, and I made that mistake more than once."

"I'm sor – "

"DON'T!" Kazuichi's suddenness startled even himself. "…Don't. Please. I don't want it to be, like, a pity thing for me. I might actually do that, so yeah."

"You seem more self-aware than that."

"Heh…you'd be surprised."

"So…" Weiss thought it over. "You did…all of that…because you thought there wasn't any good in the world, and so no point in being good yourself."

"Yeah. Pretty stupid. I dunno, I think maybe that's why I like Ruby so much. As a friend, I mean. 'Cause she's seen all kinds of despair, and it never made her a worse person, and then she tries to help other people find the hope in it, too." He grinned. "You're pretty lucky to have such a great team leader."

"Yeah." Weiss nodded. "I've always thought that. Ruby and I haven't always seen eye-to-eye, but after I started to see how reality worked outside of my father's confines, I needed her optimism. No matter what happens, she never fades. I was hardly surprised to find out she'd just gotten back up after Beacon and tried to do something to fix it all. And…I'm sorry you didn't have someone like that in your life. Unless that's something else you don't want pity on."

"Well, I don't need it," Kazuichi told her. "Not really. I've made all these new friends. And I kinda have my own Ruby back home…sorta. His name's Hajime. He was the first guy to really give me a shot as a friend. He's a bit of a grump, but he knows how to keep his chin up, y'know?" He ruminated a moment. "I should really get back to talking with him. Of course, then I'll have to tell him what I did to Sonia, and he's not gonna like that, but…eh." He shrugged. "Made my bed. I'll lie in it."

"Some people might describe me that way," Weiss stated. "Grumpy, I mean. But I'm doing my best to follow Ruby's lead!" She smiled rather mischievously. "I like to think I've come a long way from the days of being a spoiled brat. And it sounds like you've come a long way, too."

"I wanted to tell you." Kazuichi forced himself to look up, right into her eyes. "I dunno how far this is gonna go, but I wanna make sure you don't make my same mistake. I know shit's fucked with your dad and everything, and you're not with your family, and there's all this weird Darkness stuff going on and the Grimm, but if anybody ever tries to tell you that's all the world is, don't do it, okay? It's not worth it. I don't want you to turn out like I did."

Weiss flinched, bringing a hand up to her mouth. Kazuichi immediately worried that he'd misspoken; "Something I said?"

"Yes," Weiss told him. "But not in a bad way." She lowered her hand to show him her own grateful smile. "Thank you. I mean it. It's hard to believe someone as nice as you ended up working for a murder cult."

"It just happens, I guess."

Weiss shifted in her seat. "Do you…ever think about doing anything like that again? Killing people, I mean." Her voice was as quiet as could be; she couldn't afford for Qrow to hear this. "Is it a temptation?"

"No," Kazuichi told her. "I'm done. That guy, Kaito…I just saw him die again on a whole other world, which would take way too long to explain, and if there was anything stabby left in me, it's gone now. There are only two people who I…sometimes think about offing. One of them's already dead, though."

"Junko," Weiss guessed. "Can't say I blame you. Apparently she engineered the apocalypse. I wouldn't want her to get off easy either."

"You have no idea what she's done. But like I said…she's dead, so it's okay now."

"Who's the other?"

Kazuichi fell silent, biting his lip.

"Is it someone I know?" Weiss asked. Her tone grew cold; "It better not be Ruby."

"Um." Kazuichi went red, looking away. "It…might sound real stupid. I don't want this to start a whole thing. I swear, I'm fine. You don't have to worry."

"Oh." It hit Weiss hard. "It's you. You think about…dying."

"Look, you see why I need hope people like Ruby and Hajime, right?" Kauzichi asserted. "I know that's not the way out of this. I know there ISN'T a way out of this. But those guys actually make me feel like that's okay. Like there's an 'after' this." He sighed. "I'm not gonna pretend there was an excuse. I'm not gonna pretend I don't worry that sometimes I might fall back on being a total monster. I'm not gonna pretend I haven't fucked up. All I can tell you is I'm moving forward. And seriously, SERIOUSLY, that's why I want you to stay in the clear, because if you ever do anything like I did, you're gonna have to live with it. Though since you're listening to me and not totally freaking out over my kill count, I owe you that right back, and it wouldn't be hard to forgive you 'cause you're so pr – "

Nope. Not tonight.

" – iendly."

"Did you just call me 'priendly'?"

"May…be?" Kazuichi was even redder now.

Weiss chuckled. Then, she debated her next question a while. At last: "What happened with the girl? The one you…effed up with."

The fact that Weiss was reticent to use such rude language was an endearing quirk; Kazuichi's heart fluttered. "Yeah…love potion incident. Tried to get her to date me using magic. She'd already said no."

"Oh."

"In my defense – " Kazuichi stopped himself. "Actually, no. No good excuse for that one, either. No bad excuse either. But you see why when you said I wasn't a perv, that was kinda…way wrong?"

"Well, it seems like you've learned," Weiss told him. "I mean, you're doing okay with me, aren't you?"

"Yeah, but – " And then it hit him what he'd just said. "Oh. You – "

"It's too soon, isn't it?" Weiss realized.

"Yeah," Kazuichi affirmed. "Don't get me wrong, you're really, REALLY priendly, and I WANT to see if we could date, but I dunno if I trust myself with this yet."

"And…I guess I'm still processing all this," Weiss admitted. "I really, really believe you're better than who you used to be. But also, this is a lot of information to take in. And here I was thinking you might not like me because I seemed stuck-up."

"Wha – you're not! You're super cool! I'm the dumbass jerkass."

"You seem pretty smart and not a jerk now."

They looked at each other. Sighed. As much as they were interested, it simply wasn't the time.

"How about a rain check?" Kazuichi asked. "Like the promotion my dad used to give at the bike shop. Or, actually, I was the one who always wrote it up, but if you showed up and we were overbooked, you could pay then and bring the bike back way later and we'd have it on file, so if we were running any deals, you'd get the price for that day. If you're interested, then maybe I can kinda put that on file and we can talk about it later!"

"All right." Weiss nodded. "I can live with that."

"Anything else you wanna know?"
"Well, we've talked about a lot of the unhappy stuff. Why don't you tell me about some of the machines you've liked working on?"

When Kazuichi's eyes sparkled, Weiss realized the beast she'd unleashed. "YEAH! Okay, so I have this super armor I've been using as a weapon. I didn't get to bring it out into the field because the fucking Grimm we were targeting picked my memories for the hell world. But I've been thinking about upgrades I could give it based on the combo weapons here, and – actually, what's that dial in the hilt of your sword do? The color change thing looked like something really cool, and I kinda wanna see if I can maybe use a mechanism like that in my armor? I dunno what it does, but spinning colors mean badass things."

"It's a Dust chamber," Weiss informed him. "You know how Dust works?"

"Kinda? Sorta?"

Now he'd unleashed his own beast. "Wanna hear about the details from the heiress to the premier mining corporation on the entire planet?"

"Oh, HELL yeah!"

And so they talked away into the night. Still only friends. But satisfied with a friendly chat over Dust and souped-up weaponry.

...

The moment that Ven and Papyrus walked into the door of the Hot Kettle, they knew that something was wrong.

Broken dishes on the floor. A large soup spill. And a policeman who nodded at Jenna and took his leave the minute the pair walked in.

Ven was the first to run up to Jenna; "What happened?"

"You won't believe it," she answered. "Or maybe you will. But the café was broken into while you were gone."

"OH, NO!" Papyrus cried. "NOT BY THE SAME PERSON WHO RANSACKED KATIE'S BOAT!"

"There's no way to know," Jenna admitted. "It's so weird. The door was locked and everything, and as you can see, no broken windows. It's almost like a ghost did it. And that's not even the weirdest part. There's missing food, all right, but also a lot of hardware and some boat parts."

"BOAT PARTS…?" Papyrus looked to Ven. And Ven looked back. Their eyes reflected each other's perturbation.

"It'll be fine," Jenna assured. "Nothing I can't bounce back from. Anyway, I've got the necklace for you guys. Sort of."

She moved behind the counter, pulling something from a messenger bag. "My niece got ahold of it," she admitted as she put forth the plastic box. "And, well, you're sure welcome to try and open it, 'cause I sure can't." She placed the multicolored toy on the table.

Ven picked it up; "I think we can figure it out."

"OH!" Papyrus held up the clam bucket. "AS PROMISED!"

"Thanks." Jenna took ahold of the bucket. "You guys are great."

It was then that Ven noticed the doors. The swinging wooden doors that acted as a gate to the next room had always been there, and he'd known that, but he'd always thought they led to the kitchen. One of them, however, had been ripped off its hinges by the burglars, and now Ven could see a dining area with a longer table. "Was that room always more seating?"

"WHAT THE – " Papyrus whirled to look. "OH MY GOD, I THOUGHT THAT WAS THE KITCHEN!"

"Me too!" Ven replied.

Jenna shrugged; "It's the room we use for reserving parties, but if there's no party, it's just for business as usual. Sure not gonna be any parties now."

"WELL, NOW THAT I KNOW WE WERE ALWAYS ALLOWED TO SIT IN THERE, WE ABSOLUTELY NEED TO!" Papyrus emphasized.

"Feel free," Jenna told him.

"Let's work on the box in there!" Ven suggested.

Jenna stayed in the main room while Ven and Papyrus entered the sequestered dining chamber. Aside from the long table, there was also a scattering of booths pressed against the wall. Ven took a seat in one, laying the puzzle box on the table and poking at it.

"Looks pretty simple," he observed. "Just a matching game."

"I HATE THOSE," Papyrus admitted. "THEY SEEM DECEPTIVELY SIMPLE, BUT THEY CONSUME ALL YOUR TIME EVEN WHEN YOU KNOW HOW IT WORKS! WHAT'S TO FIGURE OUT? THAT'S WHY WORD SEARCHES ARE ALSO HORRIBLE. THERE'S NO SKILL COMPONENT TO IT. YOU JUST STARE AT THE SAME PAGE OVER AND OVER AND OVER AND THEN GET ANGRY."

"Maybe I should take this puzzle solo," Ven suggested. "I can be patient with it." He leaned over and whispered, "You can look around and see if you can figure out how those burglars got in."

"AUDIBLE WINK," Papyrus replied. "I'M ON IT!"

So while Ven attempted to match doodles of food, Papyrus wandered around the new room, taking stock of his surroundings. There was a large pantry set into the far wall, with all of the food ransacked, flour spilled and bottles smashed. Obviously a target of the burglaries. There wasn't much there to observe besides that, though.

Papyrus then decided to give the room a check for any smaller details he might've missed. After all, judging by Ven's "DANG IT!", he'd be tied up with the puzzle box for a while. Papyrus glanced at a framed news article about the lighthouse going defunct, which he wondered about, briefly. Namely, if such an event would be of a relevant political stir on par with the baby orca.

He brushed his fingers against the wall, hoping against hope that he might find a hidden switch or something that would open up a secret passage. But of course, that sort of thing only really happened in stories. Nothing so obvious would –

A scratch. A panel had slid under his grip.

Tilting his head with piqued curiosity, Papyrus slid the small panel aside to reveal a series of buttons, carved of wood, set in the wall. If he pressed one, then it would rotate to another design. The designs were all numbers or letters surrounded by familiar shapes: the suits of a deck of cards. But the letters were familiar to him: "K," "Q," and "J." Pressing on a "J" turned it into an "A."

It suddenly struck him: the importance of the Hot Kettle having once been called "The Royal Flush Inn."

Ven was still shouting minced oaths at the matching game. Papyrus tapped the buttons until he got them all to match in suit, with a K-Q-J-A-10 spread. But nothing seemed to happen after that. Which led him to believe maybe he hadn't put that much work into it.

He ventured cautiously into the main room, eyes zeroing in on similar panels located all around the walls. Had those always been there, so obvious? Jenna had retreated into what must've been the actual kitchen, so Papyrus was left unsupervised to pry them all open and fiddle with the similar buttons beneath.

Three more royal flushes. All four suits.

When a scream came from the room where he'd left Ven.

Terrified, he hurtled into that room. Ven, as it turned out, was all right. But the table he'd been sitting at was completely gone, and Ven was curling up on the booth to avoid falling into the hole in the floor that had revealed itself when said table had retracted into the wall.

"OOPS!" Papyrus felt quite sheepish. "SORRY, VEN. I WAS JUST LOOKING FOR A HIDDEN SWITCH IN THE WALL THAT OPENED A SECRET PASSAGE. I WASN'T COMPLETELY PREPARED TO ACTUALLY FIND ONE."

"I'm okay," Ven told him, panting. "I dropped the box, though." He leaned over to look into the revealed trap door. "There's a ladder."

"LOOKS DARK," Papyrus told him. "I'M NOT GOING DOWN THERE UNLESS WE TAKE THE PROPER PRECAUTIONS."

Ven smiled, bringing out his Keyblade. Wayward Wind began to glow with a soft light.

"THAT'LL WORK," Papyrus said.

"What the – HEY!"

Papyrus spun to see Jenna staring at him, wide-eyed and flabbergasted.

"OH, JENNA!" Papyrus said cheerfully. "WE JUST FOUND OUT HOW THE BURGLARS GOT INTO THE CAFÉ!"

He'd thought she would be happy. But instead, her brow furrowed. "Leave that alone," she warned.

"But it might be a clue to who's been wrecking everyone's stuff," Ven told her.

"I said to leave it alone," Jenna growled.

"WHY?" Papyrus asked.

"Because I said so, okay?" Jenna protested. "I have my reasons. You don't need to know."

"Jenna…" Ven's expression turned somber. "I don't wanna have to worry, but…it sounds like you knew how they got in all along, and now you don't wanna tell us why. And honestly…that looks pretty bad."

"You're saying I did this?" Jenna countered. "That I vandalized my own café? Stole my own inventory? What would I even do with the boat parts I already owned?" She sighed. "You know what? Fine. If it'll get you off my back, go ahead and explore down there. But I don't want you telling a single other person what you saw today. Got it?"

"JENNA – " Papyrus began.

"I have work to do." She'd turned on a heel, storming out.

Ven felt his heart drop. "I've never seen her so mad. Maybe I shouldn't have said anything."

"NO…THAT WAS A VERY UNREASONABLE REACTION TO FIGURING OUT HOW SOMEONE COULD'VE BROKEN INTO YOUR CAFÉ," Papyrus told him. "YOU DID NOTHING WRONG. I'M SURE SHE'LL COME AROUND IF WE GIVE HER SOME TIME ALONE."

"I hope," Ven sighed. "We gotta give her that necklace back after we open the box, after all. It wouldn't feel right to keep it."

"THEN LET'S GO GET THAT BOX. IT COULD BE A PEACE OFFERING IN THE END!"

Ven nodded, and he pushed aside all his worries in order to jump down the shaft that had been revealed.

He landed in a subterranean tunnel with rocky walls, wooden planks from the building's foundation showing through the stone. Papyrus wasn't long to join him. Ven located the pastel toy easily, picking it up and warping it away into his inventory for the moment.

"I think we've got more to explore here than the box," he said, looking up and down the passage that extended both ways.

"THEN LET'S GO!" Papyrus rallied.

They started by picking the pathway that ended in a definite wall. This one branched off into a couple of routes, each ending in ladders much like the one that led back up to the Hot Kettle. Ven ascended one, prying open a similar trap door.

"It looks like an outdoor store," he related. "That's so weird."

"WAIT A MINUTE," Papyrus realized. "I JUST REALIZED SOMETHING!"

Ven gasped, jumping down onto the stone floor by Papyrus. "The burglaries!" he cried. "This is how they were getting in all over town! The whole town has to be connected by this tunnel!"

"…ACTUALLY, I WAS GOING TO SAY THIS STORE MUST'VE BEEN THEIR ENTRY POINT," Papyrus said, "AND I'M NOT RULING THAT OUT, BUT YOURS IS SMARTER."

"Hey, you'll come up with a genius revelation somewhere along the way." Ven nudged Papyrus playfully. "Let's go check out the rest!"

The ladders all led to other shops; Ven and Papyrus decided against fully entering anywhere, lest they be mistaken for the thieves. Then they backtracked down the longer tunnel, the one they couldn't see the end of.

It soon became clear that this particular tunnel was going to stretch on for a while. It was also very, very dark. There were no ladders here, nor exposed foundations. Just carved-away earth.

"I don't like this," Ven admitted. "It feels like the whole place could cave in at any minute."

"SEE, IT JUST REMINDS ME OF HOME UNDERGROUND," Papyrus sighed. "NOT TO SAY I DIDN'T FEAR THAT, TOO. THOUGH IT DOES SEEM RATHER…OFFPUTTING. PROBABLY BECAUSE I KNOW HARDENED CRIMINALS USE THIS TO GET AROUND AND WE MIGHT RUN INTO ONE OF THEM DOWN HERE."

Ven held Wayward Wind out to use as a flashlight, but it was obviously trembling.

"VEN?" Papyrus asked. "ARE YOU…MORE SCARED THAN I AM RIGHT NOW? BECAUSE I WILL SAY I'M NOT VERY SCARED AT ALL. PRACTICALLY SCARE-FREE. BUT IF YOU'RE NOT OKAY, WE CAN TURN BACK – "

"I have to see this through," Ven insisted. "Just…stay close to me, okay? I just feel safer when we're together."

"I DO TOO."

The void of the tunnel kept extending on, and Ven hated it. "H-hey…do you mind if I…?"

"IF YOU WHAT?"

Without further warning, Ven's free hand shot out to grab Papyrus' bony hand, clutching it tightly. "Sorry!" he said quickly. "I just – "

"NO. IT'S FINE. IF I'M BEING HONEST, THIS MAKES ME FEEL A LOT BETTER TOO."

Even though Papyrus couldn't technically feel texture, he could still tell when something was pressed against his hand, and tightening his grip on Ven's hand gave him much more comfort down here in the dark.

They pressed on, hand in hand, feeling more relaxed now that they had that point of connection. And then Papyrus remembered something, something very important, something that a detective such as he was being right now shouldn't ever have missed in the first place. "VEN? I JUST FIGURED SOMETHING OUT. IT'S KIND OF HUGE."

"What?" Ven asked. "You know something about who the burglar might be?"

"NO," Papyrus told him. "IT'S NOT THAT. IT'S SOMETHING ELSE. WHEN I SAVED YOU, BACK ON THE SECRET BEACH, WELL…YOU WANTED TO BE SAVED."

"Of course I did," Ven replied. "Why wouldn't – "

And then he understood it, too. "I want to live," he murmured breathily. "I want to exist." His voice mounted in volume; "Since we came here…thinking about the past was like a noise in the background. I was trying to tune it out. I guess somewhere along the way, it just faded on its own when the things going on here, with you, got louder. The Master, Terra, the x-Blade…I forgot about it. I FINALLY forgot about it. And even now that you remind me, the thing is, you're RIGHT. I know it's probably a disgrace to the Master's memory. But when I fell, I didn't wanna die. I think…you bringing me here, or anywhere, was what changed that. Thank you."

"I'M JUST GLAD," Papyrus sighed. "YOU'RE A VERY SPECIAL PERSON, YOU KNOW, AND I'M NOT THE ONLY PERSON WHO THINKS IT. AQUA THINKS IT, AND I KNOW TERRA THINKS IT, AND SORA AND ALL THE OTHER PEOPLE WHO LIVED IN HIS HEART THINK IT, AND IF YOUR LIGHT WENT OUT, THEN WE'D ALL BE VERY SAD. ESPECIALLY ME. SO I'M GLAD YOU'RE IN A BETTER PLACE. I SHOULD BE THANKING YOU. FOR DECIDING TO…NOT WANT TO NOT-EXIST." He cleared his throat – or at least made a convincing noise that imitated that, since he didn't have a throat to clear. "ALSO, IF YOU LIVING WOULD'VE BEEN A DISGRACE TO YOUR DAD'S MEMORY…"

Could he bring himself to say it?

"WELL, HE LOVED YOU, SO IT ISN'T."

Let Yen Sid deliver the news later. And who knew? Maybe the news would be exactly as Papyrus had said.

"Thank you," Ven said, even softer. Punctuated with a sniffle that gave away the tear he'd just shed.

After a total of a half hour of walking, they finally reached the end of the road. A cement wall with another sliding panel set into it, this one of metal, and engraved with the words "It takes but two to make it disappear."

"ANOTHER PUZZLE!" Papyrus cried.

Ven hurried forth, letting to of Papyrus' hand, and Papyrus wished that didn't have to happen but also knew it had to end sometime. Besides, he still felt rather awful, like he was taking advantage of Ven's hand-holding and therefore attempting to get him to return his affection.

The panel was slid aside, revealing oddly-spaced stones that might've formed a picture of Cadborosaurus if there were more tiles in between them. Ven needed only to slide them around for a bit before they clicked and stopped. But nothing happened. "Huh," he remarked. "I wonder if maybe we need to open the other half of the picture on the other side of the wall."

"THAT'S QUITE OBVIOUSLY HOW THIS PUZZLE IS PUT TOGETHER!" Papyrus agreed. "YOU KNOW YOUR PUZZLES QUITE WELL."

"Speaking of that…" Ven stretched upward, then collapsed into a sitting position against the cavern wall. He retrieved the toy puzzle box, setting Wayward Wind nearby to illuminate it. "I'm not quite ready to walk all the way back yet. I wanna see if I can figure this one out."

"IT'S A MATCHING GAME, SO ALL THE MORE FOR YOU."

Ven tapped at the pictures, and Papyrus waited it out. As he did so, he felt a sense of annoyance that he at first did not understand. Was he impatient with Ven for taking so long? Did he actually want to join in on a matching game of all things?

No. He figured out why he was so annoyed. Because there was a high-pitched clanging sound in the background, coming from somewhere.

He opened his jaw to speak of it, but there was a click. Ven had finished with the box; "Done!"

He lifted out the necklace. A starfish set into beautiful blue tiling. "It's like a Wayfinder," he said in awe. "But that can't be right. How could people here know about Wayfinders?"

"WELL, IT COULD BE JUST A SIMILAR PATTERN," Papyrus replied. "BUT ON THE OTHER HAND, YOU WERE IN A POSITION TO ACCESS MANY WORLDS, AND YOU KNOW ABOUT WAYFINDERS. MAYBE THE TRADITION JUST SPREAD THROUGH PEOPLE LIKE YOU."

"Maybe…" Ven turned it over in his hand. "There are letters on this one, too."

"REALLY? WHAT DO THEY SAY?"

Ven ran his finger over the letter-tiles around the star. "TREN. T-R-E-N."

"TREN, ELEPH, ONE BUM," Papyrus mused. "ONE BUM, ELEPH, TREN. IT HAS TO MEAN SOMETHING. WHAT DOES IT MEAN? IT'S SO STRANGE THAT IT ALMOST HAS TO BE AN ANAGRAM."

"It's hard to think with that clanging in the background," Ven groaned.

"SO YOU HEAR IT TOO?" Papyrus asked.

"I'm just trying to ignore it," Ven groaned.

"YES, WELL, THAT MIGHT'VE WORKED AT THE LIGHTHOUSE, BUT IT WON'T HERE."

"The lighthouse?" Ven asked. "What does the lighthouse have to do with – "

Papyrus gasped; "ELEPH ONE BUM TREN!"

"Huh?"

"TELEPHONE NUMBER!"

Ven's face lit up; "That's what Hilda wants us to send her from the top of the lighthouse! Using the Morse Code machine! And weren't you just saying something about the lighthouse?"

"OH, YES. JUST THAT I HEARD THIS EXACT CLANGING WHEN WE WERE LEGALLY FIDDLING WITH THE LOCK TO GET INSIDE OF IT, AND I MANAGED TO TUNE IT OUT THEN, BUT IT'S WAY MORE OBNOXIOUS HERE."

Their eyes met. They gasped as one. Then screamed in unison:

"THE LIGHTHOUSE!"

Ven was quickly on his feet, and the pair barreled back down the passageway, careful to keep pace with one another. When it seemed Papyrus would outstrip Ven's sprint with his own long strides, they made the decision nonverbally that it was best to hold hands again, so nothing would happen to separate them.

...

The city of Loegres was rightful to claim the title of the Jewel of Midgand. Its shining, clean streets made a beautiful frame for its bright gables, nestled within a protective barrier wall that stopped outside warfare from launching an ambush. In the heart of town, decorative trees were planted around a water fountain that sprayed a prismatic mist.

Harley and her cohorts had arrived in the central square, in a raised area beside this fountain, in time to see Majelu's dance. She leapt, twirled, and spun hypnotically, her pink garments catching the noonday sun in a shimmer.

A throng of people surrounded her, though they gave her enough of a berth to actually perform. Their clapping was to the beat of the song that the street band was playing: a frenetic number that required her to move quickly and almost erratically. She flipped head over heels, pirouetted, blew a dramatic kiss at the audience.

"She's pretty good," Yang remarked.

"But not as good as the follow-up act," Velvet muttered. "That was the whole point."

With a final spin, Majelu came to a halt, striking an arabesque that prompted the entire audience to break out in raucous cheering. "Thank you, thank you!" the dancer cried earnestly, waving as she exeunted.

The crowds moved to disperse, and Giovanni asked, "NOW can we go throw rocks at the rich guys?"

"Wait for it," Velvet cautioned.

Suddenly, where Majelu had been dancing, there was a great cloud of pink smoke erupting as though someone had thrown a smoke bomb. Which, despite all attempts to make it look like magic, was exactly what happened. From within the pastel smog came a cry of "MAGIKAZAM!"

Velvet's mouth twitched into the faintest of smiles.

A high-pitched, raspy cough came from within the smoke. As it cleared, all could behold a slim blonde woman, dressed in a pink-and-purple jester's outfit with ornate leather books sewn into her belt to act as a skirt, hopping up onto one foot to wave excitedly at the audience, her other foot kicking back daintily. Beside her, the source of the coughing was revealed to be a purple Normin in an oversized top hat.

"Thank you, thank you!" the blonde cried out, even though no one had reacted to her yet. "Oh, it is LOVELY to be playing for you today!"

"That's her," Velvet said fondly. "It's Magilou."

"Wha – Magilou?" Giovanni repeated. "Isn't that the person we just saved from the bandits?"

"No," Velvet told him. "That was her performing rival, Majelu. It's a portmanteau of 'Majestic Lulu.' 'Magilou,' on the other hand, is short for 'Mazhigigika Miludin do Din Nolurun Dou.' She picked that name herself."

"Well, geez, she coulda made it a lot shorter." Giovanni rolled his eyes.

"She did," Velvet reminded him. "Into 'Magilou.'"

"Wait." Giovanni did a double take. "She…picked her own name? As in…"

"She used to be known as Magillanica Mayvin," Velvet stated. "A Legate for the Abbey. She forsook that name when she took her new identity."

"That was…not what I was expecting," Giovanni muttered. "But okay, I guess that's better than you outing your friend…"

Velvet bit her lip, because she really wasn't the type to out anyone, and she could guess at what Giovanni was wondering, and rude as she could be, she refused to actually let him know that he'd guessed correctly. (Though why his mind would even wander there, or why it would matter, was another subject entirely.)

"I hope you all enjoyed that wonderful performance from that second-rate hack!" Magilou called out. "Because now, the marvelous, mystical Magilou's Menagerie is about to blow your minds! And her out of the water."

The Normin finally got all the smoke out of his lungs, leaping up to Magilou's shoulder. "I'm Bienfu!" he introduced. "Miss Magilou's lovely assistant!" His smile curled wickedly; "Though I'm seeing more 'lovely' ladies here in this audience today!"

"Oh, give it a rest, Bienfu." Magilou clocked him on the head, and the Normin screeched. This got a good laugh out of the audience. "Oh, you liked that?" Magilou responded. "Well, that was just the opening joke!"

"It wasn't a joke!" Bienfu sobbed. "That really hurt!"

"Then maybe you should've kept your mouth shut and not been a total pervert!" Magilou growled at him. Then realized she was ruining her own image. "I meeeaaaaan for my first trick! MAGIKAZAM!"

Magilou whirled, pointing both fingers. Another smoke bomb erupted, though no one had seen when she'd had the time to lay it down. And as the blue smoke cleared, absolutely nothing was revealed.

"WHAT?" Magilou flinched. "Bienfu! I thought I told you to hide a flock of doves!"

"I'm sorry!" Bienfu wailed. "A pretty waitress from the local bar walked by, and I got distracted and forgot!"

"What am I supposed to do WITHOUT DOVES?" Magilou cried at him. "The entire show is RUINED thanks to you!"

The frantic slapping of boots on cobblestone. Velvet rushed up onto Magilou's stage, right beside her, breathing hard to calm her anxious heart.

"Um…I don't recall asking for a volunteer from the audience," Magilou told her with a nervous chuckle.

"Well, you have one now," Velvet stated dryly. "I'll be your new lovely assistant. And I'll start by fixing your little magic trick."

"How in the WORLD – " Magilou began.

But Velvet turned to face the audience, glaring her most venomous glare as she growled, "Coo. Coo."

This got an immense laugh, from the prospect of this very edgy-seeming woman imitating a dove for no reason. Velvet looked over to Magilou, and for a moment, there seemed to be a flash of recognition in the blonde's eyes.

But it was gone as soon as it had come. Or perhaps it never was there. After all, this wasn't the Magilou who would've understood that inside joke. This was only a Dream Eater created to fill out Velvet's fantasy world.

"You know what?" Magilou cried. "I'll take it! Bienfu, you're fired!"

"WHAAAAAT?" the Normin wailed.

"You get to be my straightwoman!" Magilou told Velvet. "Which is a profession I need, because, let's face it, I'm anything but!"

That got a laugh out of the audience once more.

"Bold of you to assume I am," Velvet replied. "Straight, I mean. That was the joke, right – "

"Shshshshhhhh!" Magilou hissed. "Don't EXPLAIN it! Now it's not funny anymore!"

More laughter.

"DON'T LAUGH AT MY PAIN!" Magilou wailed. "YOU'RE SUPPOSED TO LAUGH WHEN I TELL JOKES ON PURPOSE! NOT AT THIS!"

"If you want to save this show," Velvet hissed, "you'd better start performing some magic. I know how all the tricks work. Say the word and I'll do any of them."

"Well, if that's the case…" Magilou's eyes sparkled mischievously.

Harley, Yang, Giovanni, Laphicet, the Spot, Dr. Lopez, and Locus oohed and aahed (well, Laphicet and Locus were straight-faced, but it was as entertained as they would get) as Magilou and Velvet ran the gamut of classic magic tricks. Magilou made Velvet vanish in a burst of glitter, only to reveal her from behind a blanket that had already been shown to have concealed nothing. Velvet was then asked to violently smash what looked like a priceless antique vase, and Magilou produced a duplicate that she claimed was a reparation of the original. Velvet was levitated, and put in a box to apparently be skewered with swords, and seemingly sawed in half (though the feet at the other end of the box looked suspiciously like Bienfu's), and finally, asked to hold out cards to the audience while Magilou turned away so that the performer could shuffle up the deck and produce the exact sequence of cards that Velvet had shown.

The crowd responded with thunderous applause, and Magilou responded by closing the show with a flamboyant curtain call, seizing Velvet's hand and raising it high before dipping them both into a bow. And, gripping Magilou's hand in her own, Velvet wished all the more desperately that this Magilou could be her Magilou, the one who remembered.

Once the show was over and Magilou had retreated into a back alley, with Velvet and Bienfu tagging along, Locus nodded to the other Heathens, who followed him to her makeshift backstage.

"That was WONDERFUL!" Magilou gushed, hopping from foot to foot daintily. "Where did you learn how to assist with so many magic tricks?"

"Let's just say I learned from one of the best," Velvet replied. "Someone who'd mastered the art."

"Well, I'll just have to find that person and outdo them someday," Magilou figured.

"I don't think that'd be possible." Velvet chuckled.

"Is that a challenge?" Magilou cried.

"Magilou." Locus broke up the two-woman party, striding toward his employer. "As you can see, I delivered on our agreement."

"Wonderful job, Locus!" Magilou tossed him a fat purse of coinage. "After all, if Majelu hadn't shown up to dance her little heart out, then I would never have been able to let people see how much better my magic show is than her little dance in real time!"

"I'm still confused by this whole Magilou-Majelu thing," Giovanni admitted.

"Soooo," Harley cooed, "you're the kinda person who does bad stuff like hirin' mercenaries for sabotage, except for a good result like protectin' that dancer, but also for bad reasons 'cause ya needed to put on a great show?"

"You have that one hundred percent correct!" Magilou beamed. "Also, while imitation is the sincerest form of flattery, I work that look better."

"Nuh-uh!" Harley protested. "I was wearin' the jester outfit way longer than you!" Then she remembered Laphicet had said this world had stewed in stasis for what could have been centuries. "I, uh…I think, anyway…"

"You should totally join our crime syndicate!" Giovanni said excitedly. "We do all kinds of roundabout morality things like that. For instance, right now, we're on our way to throw rocks through the windows of the Abbey! BECAUSE THEY DESERVE IT! But also because throwing rocks is fun. So, one good reason, one bad reason."

"Hmmm, I don't know," Magilou mused. "This is all so sudden! We barely know each other!"

"But Miss Magilou," Bienfu reminded her, "you were just talking the other day about how lonely it was traveling the continent with just the two of us, and how you really wished there were more members of the Menagerie than – "

Magilou clocked Bienfu again. "Stop airing my dirty laundry, Bienfu! No one needed to know that!"

Bienfu rubbed the back of his tiny round head. "Now, I, for one, would loooooove to spend some more time with these cuties!" He bounced and twirled over toward Yang, doing a graceful pirouette in the air to hover before her. "Especially this one! Why, I haven't seen a human chest that looked that nice in – "

With one swift movement, Yang socked Bienfu hard enough that he went flying across the alley and smacked into the wall.

"I'm…fine…" the dazed Normin squawked.

Magilou broke down cackling. "You know, he really deserved that."

"I'll say." Yang flexed her hand. "First of all, taken. Second of all, lesbian."

"I'll…remember…that…" Bienfu peeled off the wall and fell to the ground.

"So it's true?" Velvet asked. "You're lonely. You, the great Magilou."

"Oh, it's no big deal." Magilou waved it off. "What's a little loneliness to the most amazing woman in the whole wide world?"

One of the two, anyway, Velvet thought. (Where was Eleanor, exactly?) "We…ah…we're always looking for new members to increase our ranks."

"Yes, yes, you're petty criminals," Magilou huffed. "But are you PERFORMERS? Because I'm more than okay with the criminal element, but not if there's no one here who can appreciate the love of the stage!"

"Well, no one right here an' now with us," Harley stated. "Buuuuuuut I happen to have a couple friends out there who've got an eye for showmanship! Well, showmanship for one, show-enby-ship for the other, at any rate. One of 'em's a marketing genius, an' the other was in a semi-professional, barely-legal theater troupe!"

"Hmmm," Magilou hummed. "Now, that certainly does sound appealing."

"It's at least a better gig than Melchior," Velvet stated.

"True, true," Magilou muttered. "The old man would – HEY, NOW, WAIT A MINUTE!" She flinched, looking at Velvet with wide eyes. "How did YOU know that old creep happened to be my father?"

"I…uh…" Velvet flushed.

"My sister is your biggest fan," Laphicet volunteered. "There's nothing she hasn't told me about the infamous Magilou. From your signature Mystic Artes – Ascending Angel, Good Grip, and the Host of Forty-Nine – to the fact that you can't cook."

"It's true," Velvet chimed in. "That last fact was referring to how you took 'strawberry soup' literally. It would've been amusing if it weren't so sad. All the same, Magilou trivia is Magilou trivia."

After a pause, Magilou declared, "All right, you have my attention! That's EXACTLY what I needed to prove that you were my kind of people! A massive ego stroke! Let's do it! A magical crime wave the likes of which this world has never seen! I'll be the pretty, sparkly diversion that keeps everyone's attention held so they don't notice the atrocities the rest of you are committing! You'll be doing the heavy lifting, of course."

"So what you're saying is that you could put on another magic show in the rich-guy district just long enough for us to FIND ROCKS," Giovanni said proudly.

"You really do have your heart set on those rocks," the Spot pointed out.

"I WANNA MAKE RICH PEOPLE CRY AND BREAK THINGS AT THE SAME TIME!" Giovanni shrieked. "IS THAT SO MUCH TO ASK?"

"This is gonna be great!" Bienfu had recuperated from his blow and was back to hovering beside Magilou. "Traveling alongside such lovely ladies – "

Before he could blink, Locus had rushed him, pinning him up against the wall with a military-grade knife to his throat. "I already removed one man's ability to be aroused earlier today because of his harassment of an innocent woman," he growled. "Friend of a friend or not, I'm not above doing the same to you." The knife drifted lower. "You'll respect the women of the group. Or you'll pay for your harassment."

"OKAY, OKAY, OKAY!" Bienfu wailed. "ALL YOUR FRIENDS ARE OFF-LIMITS! I GET IT! JUST PLEEEAAASE DON'T MUTILATE ME!"

"You know, I should feel sympathy for you, probably," Magilou mused as Locus let Bienfu go. "But I think you've learned an important lesson that's good for your character. Now, instead of a perverted narcissist, you can just be a regular narcissist."

"I'LL BE A VERY GOOD NARCISSIST!" Bienfu wailed. "I PROMIIIIIIISE!"

"FANCY AND EXPENSIVE WINDOWS AWAIT!" Giovanni crowed before leading the charge out of the alley.

"Tell me more about me!" Magilou urged Velvet. "I want to hear exactly how amazing you think I am!"

"There's a line between fandom and stalking," Velvet warned. "I just wasn't sure I'd see the day when the performer would be the one crossing it rather than the fans."

"Awww, you're no fun!" Magilou said in a tone that indicated she actually was having fun.

When Harley noticed Locus was lingering in the alley, she paused, regarding him. "Second thoughts?" she asked.

"No," Locus admitted. "I was just thinking about how far I've fallen."

"How so?"

"The fact that this is the most alive I've felt since before the war." He breezed past her, armored boots slapping on the cobblestone. "I'm going to love being sick of you, and I already hate it."

"Hey, every team needs one," Harley told him with a chuckle.

"I don't throw rocks," Locus said before exiting the alley.

"I know!" Harley skipped to catch up to him. "That's why you're gonna play lookout an' shank anyone who tries to stop the Giovanni Brigade!"

And Locus couldn't really argue with that one.

...

As it turned out, Brunswick Farms' landmarks were so sparse that the Corridor opened on an empty plain of snow rather than running into a wall. But Roman had figured that. After all, no amount of time could erase the map of this place burned into his mind.

He and Neo hit the snow running. "Okayokayokay," he panted to her, "this could still be fine. All we have to do is get to Bart's, head them off in the main hall, and tell them to get lost. We don't even have to deal with the – "

A raucous scream echoed throughout the wintery sky. The scream of something inhuman.

Neo fell to her knees, and immediately, Roman was on her, shaking at her shoulders. "Hey, hey, HEYHEYHEYHEYHEY you can't do that here! You have to get up, KEEP MOVING, don't fucking LOSE IT or I lose you! Got it?"

She blinked the bleariness out of her eyes, then nodded.

Roman resumed his sprint, dragging Neo along by the hand, when the next roar came, and she rubbed at her eyes with her free hand, trying to keep from feeling the lethargy that weighed her down.

When something horrible occurred to her, and she dug in her heels, pulling at Roman's hand.

"No TIME, Neo!" he yelled as he was ground to a stop.

She stared at him, pale-faced and wide-eyed. Then clutched at her throat.

"THIS BETTER BE IMPORTANT, NEO!"

The third roar sounded, and Neo stamped her foot.

"The screams?" Roman guessed, and she nodded. "What are you – "

He froze, Neo's hand falling limply from his own. "Oh, no," he said softly, going pale.

The Apathy only screamed when there was viable prey in range. Meaning waiting in the hall was going to do no good.

They were already underground.

"FUCKING HELL – "

Roman took off again, Neo barreling after him.

At some point, it felt as though he wasn't even in control of his own motions. It all flew by. The barns, the fields covered in frost, the abandoned trailers and harvest equipment, the façade of Neo's childhood home, the interior where she'd grown up the least favorite of Bartleby's children, the stairway where Roman had found her sobbing when they were children, the bar and the cellar doors and the tunnel network deep beneath the farms that Bartleby Brunswick had abused for a matter of convenience –

When his fears were confirmed, he nearly couldn't take another step, his speed slowing to zero. The dark, dim tunnels ahead served as the frame for a gruesome picture. In the background, on the horizon, the Apathy, worse than Roman had ever remembered, worse than they looked in the nightmares that visited him when the Griffon was on holiday. Stretched-out humanoid shapes, their necks cracking and arms bending like rubber, needle claws reaching out to pierce anything that haplessly got in their way – because the draining of energy caused by their screams wasn't at all the way they killed their most active prey. They shambled forth, slow as their name, because they could afford to be. A writhing horde of claws and limbs and skull-like faces (and sometimes it hit Roman that Salem had invented these, she'd made them and then tracked him down, and he'd had no choice, he'd signed up for her and then learned what she'd done to him and couldn't escape with his life and Neo's both intact) –

And in the foreground, two figures. One of them had gotten farther than the other, still progressing slowly, driving the point of the huntstaff into the ground in order to use it as a cane, because of course, George Liu, the Huntsman, wouldn't even let the extreme lethargy caused by the screams of the Apathy (they'd cried thrice at least, with them in vicinity, meaning they'd be so sapped, there was hardly a point to trying to stall their deaths) stop him from attempting to best the creatures.

Neo rushed after the Huntsman, panting and gasping, leaping onto his back to tackle him and slow him down. But Roman was more focused on the other. Archibald Snatcher stood some feet behind the Huntsman, simply staring at the advancing horde, unmoving.

Not even caring that he was about to be torn to shreds once they were done with the Huntsman.

"WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING?" Roman yelled, even though he knew all too well what Snatcher was doing. Or, rather, not doing. He skidded out front, staring into a pair of glazed-over deep-blue eyes, a mouth set in absolute indifference. "YOU GOTTA GET OUTTA HERE!" Roman gesticulated wildly, pointing back toward the cellar doors. "SERIOUSLY! YOU'RE GONNA GET GUTTED AND TURNED INSIDE THE FUCK OUT IF YOU DON'T MOVE IT RIGHT NOW!"

"…Roman?" Snatcher barely registered that there was another person in front of him. "Thought I'd covered my tracks…I'm about to do it…you were wrong…"

"I WASN'T FUCKING WRONG!" Roman shrieked, seizing Snatcher's shoulders, shaking him desperately. "I LIED! I JUST LIED! I KNEW – AND I DIDN'T WANNA SAY – ARCHIE, YOU GOTTA GET OUT OF HERE!"

Snatcher just raised a hand. Waved him off. "Not now…Roman…I'm nearly there…about to overcome these filthy monsters…"

"YOU! ARE ABOUT! TO DIE!"

"No matter." Snatcher's gaze unfocused. "After all…I don't much feel up to it anyhow…"

He fell to his knees, splashing up the shallow water of the tunnels, and Roman shrieked.

Meanwhile, Neo had placed herself before the Huntsman, arms spread out wide.

"Neo…?" the Huntsman said, speech slurred. "Move aside…I must…"

She shook her head.

So the Huntsman, still plunging his staff into the water to keep himself propped up, simply began the chore of moving around her, toward the groping claws waiting to welcome him as prey.

Neo splashed down right in front of him again, scowling. She could only think of one argument to get him to turn around, and so put up an illusion to regenerate, around herself, the costume of the Huntsgirl.

"How…clever," the Huntsman told her. "But the real…never mind; stand aside."

So she was forced to attempt to shove him back, away from the clawing hands of the shambling Grimm, and while she was agile in many respects, she had nowhere near enough strength to hold him back. She just kept attempting to push him back while he struggled forward, nearer to the arms of death.

Behind this scene, Roman was still attempting to talk Snatcher into leaving. "You can't just stop!" he whined, his voice getting higher and higher. "They are going to KILL you! Don't you see that? Don't you – HEYHEYHEY!"

Snatcher had simply slumped over on his side, his blinking slow. "Not…now, Roman. Let me rest."

"LIKE HELL I WILL!" Roman latched his arms around Snatcher's upper body, attempting to drag him out of the tunnel. Which went about as well as Neo trying to block the Huntsman from approaching the Apathy. "We're LEAVING. NOW."

"Not now." Snatcher waved a hand in Roman's face. "Exhausted. Rest."

"NonononononoNONONONO – " Now Roman was babbling, met with the futility. The Huntsman was almost at the horde. Soon, he'd be torn apart, and Neo with him, and then –

"You can't do this to me," Roman whimpered. "You can't fucking DO this to me, you ASS! Do you have any idea how many people I've lost this way? EVERYONE I grew up with except Neo! My entire family, and no matter how shit they were, I can't forget about them! I can't stop thinking about that day, and losing EVERYTHING, and I don't care if Mozenrath can bring you back, Idon'tcareIdon'tcareIdon'tcare, because I CAN'T lose you like this, I can't see that again, not with you, I fucking CAN'T, I LOVE YOU!"

In that instant: recognition. A violent twitch, and Snatcher's eyes coming back into focus. Under any other circumstance, Roman would probably be concerned about Snatcher having heard what he'd just said, but this was absolutely not the time for it to matter, whether he knew or not. With a rough jerk, Snatcher set about scrambling to his feet, babbling, "WHAT'S happened? How did I – they overtook me, they – " He looked to Roman in a panic.

And Roman seized him, pulling him to his feet before looking down the hall. It seemed whatever had snapped Snatcher out of his trance had also just washed over the Huntsman, who was standing at attention, stock-still, staff braced in his arms.

Neo clutched at his tunic, looking up at him with teary eyes through the fabricated Huntsgirl mask. It took the Huntsman a mere moment to realize what was going on, to see the claws reaching not for him but for Neo's back.

And in one swift, sharp movement, he had her in his arms in a bridal carry, barreling back down the tunnel toward the cellar. "MOVE!" he growled.

"FUCKING THANK YOU!" Roman yelled as he and Snatcher joined the race out of the tunnels.

Up the stairs and back into the bar and back into the house and – wait, the bar –

Roman skidded to a halt, turning around to race back, and Snatcher called after him, "YOU JUST DRAGGED ME OUT OF THAT EXACT PLACE, YOU ABSOLUTE IMBECILE!"

"I KNOW WHAT I'M DOING!" Roman yelled back.

"THAT'S WHAT I SAID WHEN I CAME HERE!" Snatcher growled, hurrying after him.

Roman was gathering as many bottles of old alcohol into his arms as he could carry, and Snatcher wasn't sure exactly where this was going, but he knew he needed to be doing the same thing. When low growls indicated that the first of the Apathy horde had reached the door to the tunnel system, Roman turned and hurled the entirety of the liquor he held at said door, and Snatcher followed suit.

"GO!" Roman yelled, and as Snatcher hustled away, Roman removed the Cudgel from where he'd had it strapped on his belt, aiming it and firing indiscriminately. The barrage of ammunition collided with the spilled spirits, sending up a beautifully morbid wave of red-orange flames.

As the first of the Apathy blundered into the fire, screaming in rage as it burned down into immediate ash, Roman finally felt as though he could leave this place for the last time.

He stumbled from Bartleby's home, a manor among poor men's domiciles, into the snow that lined the street, collapsing to his knees as his body finally gave out. He'd done it, he'd done enough to end it, and now he couldn't so much as take a step further because his heart might explode. The white of the snow beneath him filled his vision; a hand gently settled on his shoulder, and a voice told him, "It's all right now. It's over. Look at me, Roman."

So Roman glanced in the direction of the person addressing him. Snatcher had knelt beside him to match his level, putting his other hand beneath Roman's chin, tilting his head to look up and meet his gaze. "Breathe," he commanded before pressing his lips to Roman's.

The memory of the waters overtook Roman, and now he could think, he could think clearly because he had a steady supply of oxygen – no, wait, that was just regular air, and he wasn't underwater, or on fire, or in the tunnels, or anywhere near the Apathy that were all burning to a crisp.

"I…suppose we could stand to hear you say that you told us so." The Huntsman cleared his throat nervously.

And Neo socked him right in the side of his helmet, which didn't really leave any sort of mark, but put the point across.

"Yes, yes, I am aware of our error," the Huntsman grumbled.

Roman finally peeled himself away from the kiss, panting furiously. "You…you absolute fuckwit," he breathed. "It didn't once occur to you that I WAS LYING TO COVER FOR SOMETHING?"

"…Well, that seems rather obvious now, doesn't it?" Snatcher admitted sheepishly. "Not entirely certain who it was snitched on Snatcher, but I'm grateful for – "

"Cockmouth."

"Never mind. I suppose I'm not. It could've been literally anyone else."

That made Roman laugh louder than he'd expected to, almost inappropriately so.

"Something doesn't sit right with me," the Huntsman stated. "What was it that snapped us out of our Grimm-induced trance?"

"Well, search me," Snatcher said in confusion. "All I remember was Roman yelling somesuch about me being about to die, being on the verge of sleep, not caring a whit about anything, and suddenly it was as though someone'd shone a quite obnoxious light into my eyes."

"A light," the Huntsman repeated. "That was the sensation I recall as well."

"That doesn't make any sense," Roman babbled. "All I did was yell at you guys." Then, in a low mutter: "And it turns out you absolutely didn't hear what I said, or else we'd be talking about that right now."

"What?" Snatcher replied.

"What?" Roman said right back.

Neo, however, had been staring at Roman with great intrigue, fascinated by the way he seemed to exist. When she got the idea, she began to gesture wildly.

"I have no idea what you're saying," Roman told her.

So she brought out her scroll, texting him a short sentence. He retrieved the buzzing device in his pocket, looking at her words and reading them out loud: "Your light's brighter."

"Your light?" Snatcher and the Huntsman said in unison.

"What, that thing you said when you met back up with me?" Roman asked. "What does that have to do with anything?"

"Explain this now," Snatcher commanded.

"Neo and I have…a past," Roman sighed out. "We knew each other when we were kids. Then…a thing happened, a thing that is admittedly very topical, and we got split up. I went years thinking she was dead. She went years thinking I was dead. Then, after some questionable fashion choices, we both resettled in Mistral, and one day she just…finds me out of the blue. The closest thing I could get to a straight answer out of her was that she'd followed me like some kind of bug-zapper light."

Neo nodded in affirmation.

"I wonder…" The Huntsman looked back at the farmhouse they'd escaped. "The Apathy didn't seem to affect you at all. Or did they?"

"No," Roman said. "They never have."

The Huntsman ignored the revelation buried in that statement. "Something prevented you from being overtaken. Something that allowed you to escort Neo into the field of danger and allow her to keep her own consciousness. Something that awoke us from our trance. I half wonder if perhaps all along…that has been your Semblance."

"You know, it rather would make sense," Snatcher admitted. "You being sort of a…beacon, or a lighthouse."

Neo texted frantically, "THATS HOW I FUCKING FOUND YOU FROM ACROSS THE CONTINENT!"

"You…you're serious," Roman realized. "That? THAT'S what it was? The whole time and I turn out to be a signal flare? That's IT?" He began to laugh. "I don't think that could've been any more anticlimactic!"

"To lay the facts bare," the Huntsman said, "your Semblance lay dormant within you, allowing you to be unaffected by the Apathy and escort Neo through them. Its ability seems to be a light of clarity that affects those you forge connections to – not unlike a will-o'-the-wisp. There's a poetry to that. During the years you spent separated from Neo, she could sense your dormant Aura and use it to track your position, whether or not she was aware of it. When you came to retrieve us, you managed to unlock your Aura, and now that wisp is shielding us as well."

"Not really anticlimactic, when you consider the circumstances," Snatcher informed him. "Whatever you were yelling must've somehow pulled the switch on that power. What did you say, anyhow?"

"…It doesn't matter," Roman mumbled. "Just desperate raving. I don't even remember."

"We'd best get a move on," the Huntsman suggested. "Our airship is grounded nearby. Any longer here and those flames will catch up to us and finish what the Apathy began."

"Yeah, well, that'd be a death I could live with," Roman sighed. "Or…die with." He then realized that he and Snatcher were still kneeling in the snow; shakily, he stood, and Snatcher drew himself up fluidly. "Let's head out."

But as the Huntsman and Neo set off, Snatcher put his hand back on Roman's shoulder. "A word, if I may. Privately."

Roman gave him a suspicious glance. Had he actually heard the damning words? "O…kay." He nodded to the Huntsman and Neo; "You two keep the ship warm."

"I saw the guise you took to reach me," the Huntsman told Neo as they moved ahead. "I've reason to believe it was effective. After all, it suits you much more than it ever did Thorn."

And Neo threw herself around him in an embrace, and he began to slightly regret having said that.

They left Roman and Snatcher behind, and once he was sure the other two were out of earshot, Snatcher told Roman, "I'm well aware why you weren't willing to let me succumb to this fate in particular."

"I've been obvious, haven't I?" Roman sighed.

"Well, yes," Snatcher told him, "but more importantly…this."

He put forth the folded photograph, unfurling it. "You didn't think I would recognize you immediately? Though at first, I'd thought you were the older one."

Roman let out a snort. It was almost funny, now. "Yeah. You got me."

"Why didn't you ever tell me?"

"Oh, gee, I dunno," Roman said sardonically. "Maybe because having lost my entire family in a traumatic event that I might've indirectly caused, not to mention coming from farm stock and only picking up the Mistral circuit from my dad's legacy, isn't exactly the origin story of badasses? Look, I've let you see a LOT of how strong I'm actually not when you get down to it, but I was never ready for you to see how bad it got at the heart."

"I think you owe me the details, Roman."

Roman let out a sigh of defeat. "So here it is. Neo and I grew up here. Ordinary farm kids. Boring life. Her name was Brunswick, back then. First name doesn't matter." A smile crept up his lips. "Gods, they used to get so mad when she'd wear dresses. They thought she'd just grow out of it, but as you can see, the photo doesn't lie. I was the only kid her age and the only one who used the pronouns she wanted. Also, she and I were…how do I put this…tiny terrors. The bane of this place's existence. You heard the Brunswick kid and the Putnam kid coming and – "

"Now, now, now, hold on." Snatcher was grinning quite smugly. "You're telling me your surname was 'Putnam'?"

"Shit!" Roman hissed. "Okay, THAT one was supposed to be for at least later in the conversation when I made you swear not to laugh at it – "

"Oh, I'm certain you're now overjoyed I've taken to using your first name."

"Shut up."

"I do wonder what it must be like to have a humiliating last name, Roman. Imagine if you'd gotten to my age without changing it and been stuck with it. Good thing I'll never know."

Roman just let out a groan of frustration.

"In all seriousness," Snatcher told him, "it's not as though it matters. Miss Neopolitan changed hers. You changed yours. Yours is far more fitting, now. Especially since new information has come to light. Literally."

"Yeah, I just picked it because I like to blow shit up," Roman said with a slight laugh. "It's funny…my dad was a minor boss in Mistral before he decided he just wanted to get away from it all out here in the sticks. Clancy Putnam, crime lord with the dorkiest name that existed. And by the time I got there to follow up on his legacy, I couldn't even let on that I was his kid because the last name was THAT DUMB." He shifted, his smile fading. "I liked to fuck with people. That's nothing new. But they were onto me, and they were onto Neo. You know how your hometown of Jerktown was less than thrilled that you were into guys? Yeah. Same story, different setting. Look, I just wanted to jerk off to the mag I'd got of sexy shirtless Atlesian soldiers in peace, and Neo just wanted to be a girl, and nobody was okay with that, so we started to take the heat off ourselves. As you do. We worked together to set up her sister as a worshipper of the God of Darkness, we then made HER brother out to be the gay one, we framed my dad for alcohol theft from the Brunswick house, and soon, everyone's under the gun but Roman and Little Brunswick. Teenage years were smooth sailing until the fighting got so intense and Bart Brunswick got so stingy about paying our resident Huntsman that he up and decided he was gonna calm down the tensions by bringing in…well. You saw what he brought in."

"Do you blame yourself?"

"Fuck no. He could've just paid for more guys. He did himself in, as far as I care." Roman was now staring right at his own feet. "They made our families give up on living. Then they started to tear them apart. That day, I found Neo on the stairs of that house we were in, crying her eyes out because they got both her siblings. I grabbed her hand, and we ran. Then the snows set in, she let go of me, and…I was so convinced she froze out there. It was years, fucking YEARS before she found me, and now I know that's no coincidence." He shrugged. "By then, I was already living the life I really think my dad never wanted to abandon, or at least no one in their right mind would. Listen. Stirring up trouble here was like an awakening. It starts as a joke, like a stick in the spokes of the wagon, and the next thing you know, Cousin Violet has broken bones and you're laughing like hell. So don't think this whole tragedy is what made me so fucked up. I've always been that way."

"I'm glad to hear it," Snatcher told him. "After all, it's one of the things I've always admired about you. Your utter ruthlessness and pride in such a quality. An inspiration to us all, if I may be so bold."

"Yeah, well, see where your inspiration comes from now?" Roman mumbled. "Humble origins and then some."

"Roman, you look back at me. I mean it."

Roman forced himself to meet Snatcher's gaze. "What."

"I simply fail to understand how this could possibly LESSEN my view of you," Snatcher told him, gesturing back to the buildings around. "You're telling me you clawed your way up from this cesspit? Made your way to the very top, starting from nothing, the barest bones? Loath as I am to admit it, you've gone and accomplished what I'd always meant to! Envy aside, you've only proven yourself worthier!" He let his arm drop. "Though as I mentioned, I'm already irrevocably attached, so it's not as it if even matters."

"Don't lie to me, Archie. I don't need that."

"Roman. Have you ever once lied to me? About the light in which you saw me, about what I could accomplish if I put my inhibitions aside, about what I truly deserved?"

"I've never lied to you about anything important like that," Roman replied. "I have admittedly told smaller lies. Like 'stay away from the Apathy because I think you're pathetic' or 'Dragonface was the one who ate your blueberry muffin, not me.'"

"Then consider this," Snatcher told him. "Why would I – wait. The muffin. That wasn't Mr. Liu's doing?"

"No. It was me. I did a shitty enough job of covering my tracks that I can't believe you actually bought that story."

Snatcher's jaw dropped. "I harangued him for NOTHING," he stated. "His proclivity for blueberries had me thinking the story was airtight and the accusation was true. AND NOW YOU'RE TELLING ME – "

Roman snapped his fingers in Snatcher's face. "Focus."

Snatcher cleared his throat into a fist. "The point of it all is…you've never once lied to me about what matters. So why would I lie to you?"

Roman had no answer for that.

"As I thought," Snatcher said with a smug grin. "You've done it, Roman. You've lied, cheated, stolen, and SURVIVED. As any great man would. You've overcome. I should say you've earned the right to shine a little brighter, then."

And Roman still didn't have words. Because he obviously wasn't the lyricist of the duo.

"Now let's get a move on." Snatcher turned on a heel. "APPARENTLY I've got an apology to make over a muffin."

And Roman let him get several paces away, considering what he'd just been told. Standing there, unmoving, considering the words that were about to come out of his mouth. He shouldn't. He absolutely shouldn't.

But he had to.

"I said 'I love you.'"

Snatcher stopped dead in his tracks. Obviously, he'd heard, but disbelief was preventing him from actually processing it. He slowly turned; "What did you just say to me?"

"When we were in the tunnels," Roman admitted. "And you were about to die. And I said a thing, and I told you it didn't matter, but that was when my Aura unlocked. What happened is I was yelling at you to get up and leave because I couldn't watch you die the same way my family did, because…I…love you." Now the words flowed forth in a fast-paced babble; "Look, I know how we work. I know you don't feel that about me, and honestly, you're probably incredibly turned off right now, and I don't blame you. I'm not expecting it back. I just probably can't go much longer without giving the game away, especially after all this Grimmshit. It was my fault. I'm the one who caught feelings. I'm the one who got in over my head. Though, okay, you don't get off completely free, because who the HELL gave you the right to be that charismatic? I was probably dead in the water from the minute you showed up. The point is, I know you don't feel that way, and that is MORE than okay. I just thought…you should know." He sighed, letting himself slump. "Get an ego boost out of it or something. You sure did it, all right. You got me."

And for a long while, Snatcher didn't know what to say, how to respond.

"Yeah, I could've timed that better," Roman mumbled. "Look, we can talk more back at the – "

"And here I thought you were going to make me be the one to say it first."

"What the what now?"

"You should know by now that I couldn't admit such a thing," Snatcher told him. "As you should know that my love for you is nothing short of infuriating. You think YOU were the one doomed from the very start? Then you've no idea what you've done to me. And I'll be spending the rest of my life repaying you for it, you know that? It's simply an immense weight off my shoulders that you spoke up first, or we'd never get anywhere."

Roman stared at him incredulously, eyes wide. Then he put up an index finger. "What I said. About being more than okay with you not loving me back. Scratch that. I would've hated that. THIS. This is what I'm more than okay with."

Snatcher closed the distance between them once more, initiating another kiss, and now it felt comfortably the same but so much different.

When their lips broke, Roman muttered, "Let's get out of here, sweetheart."

"A new title?"

"You earned it."

"Very well." Snatcher nodded, a mischievous glint in his eye. He slid an arm around Roman's waist; "Shall we, my love?"

And Roman nearly choked on his own spit.

"Something the matter…" Snatcher grinned right in Roman's face. "My love?"

"You…ALWAYS have to fucking one-up me, don't you?"

"As is tradition."

Roman slid his own arm around Snatcher's shoulders. Honestly, he could use the support in order to get off these cursed grounds. "Just get me out of here, sweetheart," he muttered.

And Snatcher escorted him away from Brunswick Farms for the last time.

...

Deymos led his group through a mirror that served as a gateway, and where they emerged, it wasn't quite as green, but it didn't look at all like an ordinary world in the Realm of Light. It appeared to be an immense building that had been sundered into many islands that floated in the midst of empty space. Some of which were upside-down in comparison to others.

"Welcome to the Shattered Library," Deymos said. "It's kinda between the Fade and the not-Fade. My personal haven to get away from the Xemnas monologues. You can find pretty much any book you want here. About ninety percent of them are boring, but I get the feeling this crowd'll eat that up. Anyway, I say we chill out here for a bit before hiking the home stretch."

Mozenrath stepped out front of him, eyes wide and jaw low in awe. "This…this knowledge…" He rounded on Deymos. "Tell me this ISN'T just a recreational facility full of fiction."

"It's elf stuff," Deymos replied. "That's all I know. But it's nerd elf stuff. So, like, magic and magitech that never made it into the real world because…I dunno, there was elf politics, and this one guy made it explode, and I don't even know. It's just a good safehouse. …So long as you don't wake up the Librarians."

"And how are we supposed to avoid – " Vexen began.

Deymos had already taken off; "Last one to the Courtyard is a rotten egg!"

"NOW, WAIT JUST A MINUTE!" Vexen was sprinting after him. "YOU'RE GOING TO EXPLAIN WHAT YOU MEANT BY 'THE LIBRARIANS' – "

"Boys," Wuya and Yzma groaned as one.

Deymos' chase led them to an arched doorway, where a vaguely humanoid figure flickered, like a ghost made of fire. "Yoooo, Archivist!" He waved in greeting. "What's happening?"

"You return again," the Archivist said in a mournful, feminine voice. "Much has transpired since your last visit. An Anchor to the Fade. The mortals she has bound to her hand. She pursued the Viddasala through these halls – "

"Yeah, yeah." Deymos waved a hand. "I meant what's happening that's relevant to me and my pals here?"

"She vanquished the Librarians," the Archivist stated. "Sent them to eternal sleep. They shall intrude upon you no more."

"NI-HI-HIIIICE!" Deymos crowed. "And here I was still working out how exactly I was gonna tell everybody that they were probably gonna die without the invisibility factor."

"YOU – I DON'T EVEN HAVE WORDS!" Vexen raged. "The LAST thing I would call us is PALS after that revelation!"

"These guys are a buncha nerds," Deymos explained. "Wanna give us a heads-up on which of the loofa mirrors take us to the good stuff?"

"The Eluvians shall transport you to the scattered wings of the Shattered Library," the Archivist stated. "There, you may sate your pursuit of knowledge to your heart's desire, and none shall pursue. What are your interests of study?"

"Magic in all forms," Mozenrath stated. "Though I have a preference to arts that can be cast by will or by formula."

"Magic, but artifacts I can just use to blast people without having to exert energy or memorize anything," Wuya said.

"Direct me to your finest theatrical literature," Mysterio stated.

"I'm just gonna head to the usual," Deymos said.

The Archivist floated through the archway. "Follow and observe."

The Courtyard was a rounded, broken plaza with a great ornament reminiscent of a tree with branches that curled into a sphere blooming up from the center. More mirrors – Eluvians – ringed the plaza. The Archivist floated from one to the next, indicating them: "This is the gateway to the magicks of the heart and soul. This is the passage to the tomes of ancient objects of power. Beyond this Eluvian, the great tragedies and comedies of the elven playwrights." She nodded to Deymos. "You will remember, of course, where it is you wish to be."

"Yup," Deymos told her. He turned to the rest of the party; "You wanna split up and read for a bit? Then let's rendez-vous here in about…hmm…whenever we all feel like it."

Mozenrath was still wide-eyed as he blundered into the plaza. "All of this…elven knowledge lost between worlds…what can I learn here that no one else remembers? The potential…the POWER!"

"Yeah, yeah, let's just go." Gill seized him by the sleeve and dragged him toward the first Eluvian the Archivist had indicated. Zevon trotted after.

"Shall we?" Wuya held out a hand, which Yzma grasped, and they promenaded through the second Eluvian together as though escorting one another to the dance floor.

"Perfect!" Mysterio strode toward the third. "Now, we can complete your training!"

"My what now?" Shocker replied. "Why am I sure I ain't gonna like this?"

Vexen mused for a while, wondering who he wanted to follow. Not Mysterio, that was for certain. He had made up his mind to go after Mozenrath when Deymos said, "Hey, Vex. I wanna show you something in particular. Think you might like it."

"And I know this isn't some sort of horrible trap because…?" Vexen asked.

"Mozey's a necromancer, right?" Deymos reminded him. "What would even be the point of killing you while he's here? Also, HOW many times do I have to repeat myself? I wouldn't hurt YOU."

Vexen gritted his teeth. "Very well. But this had better be worth my time."

Deymos waved him on, and the two of them took a different Eluvian than the other groups.

Within only a few seconds of their arrival in the section on magical arts, Mozenrath, Zevon, and Gill had spread a tapestry of books across the floor, poring through them.

"I can hardly believe this!" Mozenrath gasped. "What I'm reading here could redefine how we think of mana transfer as a process!"

"And what I'm reading could redefinitionate the very basis of alchemy as a magic-based subjecticle!" Zevon crowed.

"And what I'm reading could redefine 'boring,'" Gill snorted. "I don't even know why I came here with the nerd squad."

"Here." Zevon threw him a leather-bound tome. "This suggestifies a connectitude between alchemy and mutageneticisms."

"You're saying there's magic in me?" Gill flipped through the book. "Huh. Though right now, my priority is wondering if this place has a dictionary. You need one."

"Why?" Zevon asked, legitimately perplexed. Then he looked back at his own book, gasping; "MOZENRATH! OBSERVATE!"

Mozenrath hurried over, scanning the book Zevon held open. "A molecular breakdown of…lyrium? How is that important – "

"Look!" Zevon jabbed at a sidebar on the page. "The comparisonations to mythril!"

"NO." Mozenrath recoiled. "You're telling me that a person could, potentially, alchemize mythril into LYRIUM."

"Theoryetically. Though there's no methodation. Only speculatoriation. What have you found?"

"Oh, you aren't going to believe this," Mozenrath said with a grin. "What I've been reading will change the way you view casting by will as a process."

"AND?"

"And – " Mozenrath suddenly thought better of it. He grinned. "And actually, you've spent so much time lording Numerian knowledge over me, this time, I'M going to keep the secrets YOU don't get to know about."

"WHA – THAT'S NOT FAIR!" Zevon sputtered.

"Life's not fair," Mozenrath told him.

"Which book?" Zevon asked.

Mozenrath knew why. Still, he couldn't stop his gaze from flicking toward the tome he'd left open. Zevon figured it out from that small gesture, and then the two of them had leapt at it, tackling each other on the way down to keep each other from reaching it:

"THAT KNOWLEDGE IS MINE!"

"YOU'LL RUEFULATE THE DAY YOU TRIED TO KEEP THAT FROM ME!"

"…Yeah, I'm gonna go find something more fun to read and somewhere more quiet to read it," Gill stated as he stormed out, leaving Mozenrath and Zevon to wrestle on the carpet of opened books.

Across the library, Wuya was picking through shelves of her own, taking down books to page through and then putting them back.

Behind her, Yzma groaned; "Are we really going to spend our time here just reading dusty old books? I can think of at least five hundred things I'd rather be doing."

"You're exaggerating," Wuya told her.

"You want me to list them?" Yzma said dryly.

"Well, if you don't want to read, suit yourself," Wuya said with a shrug, holding a book open to a particular page. "After all, you'll only be missing out on things like this enchanted crown that granted the wearer power over a grand empire of subservient followers."

"Let me see that!" Yzma stormed over, swiping the book from Wuya and scanning the page. She looked up, utterly unamused. "This is about a golden statue of a hairless cave creature. You made that up about the crown."

Wuya giggled; "Well, in my defense, you're adorable to mess with."

"Ah, well." Yzma flipped the page of the book. "Now I have to know what a nug is so I can determine if it's worth making a transformation potion over. So you win this round."

"I always do," Wuya jeered.

"Okay," Shocker groaned as Mysterio paced up and down a row of shelves, "what's this about trainin', an' why's it standin' in the way of me findin' a good, cheap romance story?"

"You and I make an undefeatable team of brains and brawn," Mysterio told him. "But some operations require brains and more brains."

"I ain't dumb, Beck."

"I know. But neither are you charismatic. Where's your stage presence? Your flourish? Though, don't get me wrong – your personality as-is is very magnetic. But what happens when you and I need to pull the wool over the eyes of the sheep? In other words, I'm going to be focusing on lies and illusions, and I need you to be able to play along."

Shocker groaned. "So you're here lookin' for ancient elf plays 'cause…?"

"Because you need to get convincing." Mysterio shoved a book at him, its dialogue on the pages in poetic stanzas. He pointed to a line: "Read this. It's a poem, not a play, but the effect should be similar."

Shocker cleared his throat. "All's undone, demons've come to destroy the peace we've had for so long – "

"No, no, no, with FEELING!" Mysterio turned the poem toward himself. "Like this!" He cleared his throat for the sake of doing so. "The stronghold lives on, and the army's reborn…compelled to forge on, what will we become?"

If Shocker had undersold, then Mysterio was overselling. But it was pleasant to listen to. He put emotion into every syllable, and there was a distinct cadence to his words. When the book was turned back to him, Shocker attempted once more, trying to copy Mysterio: "Can ya be forgiven, when the cold grave's come? Or will you've won? Or will battle rage on?"

Mysterio took the book back; "Oh, Grey Warden, WHAT HAVE YOU DONE? The oath you have taken is all but broken!"

It was around this time that Shocker realized this was probably not so much an attempt to improve his acting skills as it was a secret opportunity for Mysterio to get the two of them dramatically reading along from the same piece. And knowing that, this was suddenly that much more enjoyable. "All's undone, ash in the sun…"

Finally, Deymos had led Vexen up to a wing that was bordered by a window, likely once a tower with a lofty view. Now it just overlooked the miasma and the other isles of the library. A rather plush couch was built into the bottom of the window; bookshelves framed it. Deymos looked through one in particular; "Now, where did I put that…AHA!"

He pried a book off the shelf, then proceeded to flop onto the window seat and bury himself in the information. Vexen watched him read for a solid minute before bringing up, "You wanted to show me how it looks when you ignore me?"

"Oh!" Deymos realized. "It's the rest of the books. Take your pick. This is your section."

Curious, Vexen approached the shelf. Theorems on homunculi and magical clones; the interaction of magic and biology. Well. Apparently Deymos knew him better than he'd thought.

But he wondered what, exactly, Deymos was reading here. Such material seemed too lofty for him. He glanced at the space in the shelf created by the book, then at the tome in Deymos' hands, and concluded immediately: "That book doesn't belong here."

"What was your first clue?" Deymos licked a finger to turn a page.

"First of all, it is bound far more cheaply than the others, suggesting mass production for casual enjoyment," Vexen stated. "Second, it is numbered, and none of its neighbors match its cover or continue its sequence. Third, you're reading it."

"You got me," Deymos said casually. "This is like the equivalent of medieval paperback trash. The romance subplot is AWFUL. But I'm here for a train wreck."

Vexen pushed aside thoughts of Irmaplotz. "I take it you displaced the book so that if anyone accompanied you into this library, you could fool them into thinking it was more intellectual."

"I mean, that's a bonus." Deymos smirked at Vexen from over the book. "But you're wrong, and I can't believe you didn't figure out my true motive."

"Oh?"

"This is the best couch in the whole library," Deymos told him. "I wanted to move the book I was reading to where I didn't have to get up very far from the couch."

"…I'm actually not certain how I didn't figure that out. You never did cut a corner when it came to figuring out how to cut corners."

"This is next-level laziness. Anyway, you wanna pick something already? Don't tell me you've lost interest in the replica stuff since we split. You wouldn't shut up about it back in the day."

"Oh, I have continued to refine my replicas," Vexen stated. "They become more and more human with each iteration, and soon, I will be introducing new powers into them to create unstoppable bioweaponry."

"So I take it you made another one after the whatshisface Axel told us about."

"The Riku Replica. A disappointment." Vexen's mouth twitched. "Did you think him my first creation?"

"He wasn't?"

"I have been attempting to replicate since my days as an apprentice of Ansem the Wise," Vexen stated. Eyes on the bookshelf, not on Deymos. Deymos wasn't looking at him, either. "The true prototype was an unfortunate failure. A copy of a Radiant civilian. His genetic infrastructure collapsed on itself. Alas, it seems Lazard Deusericus was never meant to truly exist. No matter. I have outdone him time and time again. My latest creation, Kokichi Oma, has proven…" Oh, how could he possibly describe this? "Quite intelligent, and true to the original. The original, of course, is deceased, making him less of a replica and more of a resurrection."

"How did I just know you'd be bringing back dead people eventually?"

"Because I am, of course, brilliant enough to figure out how to do so," Vexen told him. "From here, other projects are planned. For one, I need to figure out how to reclaim No. i."

"What now?"

It suddenly struck Vexen: the significance. Deymos didn't know. He wouldn't have known. "Oh? Do you not remember? That's right…no one did, after the incident…"

Deymos groaned, finally looking up and away from his book. "You're setting up for something."

Vexen smirked right back at him. "Do you remember our fourteenth member?"

"Our WHAT NOW?"

"A replica I created to fill out the Organization," Vexen stated. "An order from Xemnas. Built from Sora's memories of that girl who seems to be unable to leave me alone. Though I had thought, initially, she would take the male form of Sora rather than the female form of the girl…"

"Hey. Respect the pronouns."

"I do," Vexen assured. "How she presents is of no consequence. It is merely an observation. Her purpose was to replace Sora himself. Give the Superior his own Keybearer. When this coincided with Roxas, well, it became a battle to see which one would rise above the other as the true weapon. I perished before I could see the outcome, though it is rather obvious Roxas bested her, given the circumstances. But I was able to build a strain of magic into her that should have given her a distinct advantage. It seems our Key of Destiny weathered a great battle in order to prevail. She was able to absorb the energy from the hearts of worlds, feeding it into herself to transform into something far more powerful than a humanoid. By all rights, she should have won. It only proves Roxas' excellence. Certainly not the Superior's. He wouldn't have known how to stack the odds in his favor."

"So…why don't I have any memory AT ALL of this kid?"

"Because she was made of memory," Vexen stated. "And as such, upon her dissolution, she was erased from the consciousness of the worlds. Until now."

"Y'know…" Deymos sighed, trying to keep his face straight. "You always were an egomaniac, Vex. But you know what I never expected from you? Making up an entire fake person you apparently invented and then claiming we all just FORGOT about her. That takes guts."

"I would know far better than to make such a ridiculous claim without the ability to back it up," Vexen stated. "I can pinpoint several holes in your own memory left by her absence. There was a day before Castle Oblivion that you were playing for someone, only one, in the Hall of Empty Melodies in order to show off your prowess. Who was that person?"

"Like. Two days before? That concert?"

"Yes. Name the audience."

"Psh," Deymos scoffed. "That was just – " He flinched. "W-wait. What the hey? Why don't I remember who that was?"

"Because it – "

"Wait. You. It had to be you, or you wouldn't even KNOW about that. Though I thought I'd remember if I invited you to a private concert. If only because I never would. Ever."

"I was hidden out of sight," Vexen stated. "It was my job to observe the replica in her early days and how she reacted to each of the other members of the Organization. She seemed utterly unimpressed by your playing."

"Wha – no way!" Deymos sputtered. "She said it sounded pretty! I mean, I was going for a bop, not PRETTY, but – wait. WAIT. Why do I remember that? Was she actually real?"

"Ah," Vexen realized. "This proves half of my theorem. The reason why I remember No. i – or 'Xion' – at this time. It is likely in no small part due to the fact that my…absence from the Realm of Light took place over her obliteration. But it seems that now, memories of her are being restored to others. That implies that somewhere…she is returning to existence. And if that is indeed the case, then she MUST return to my laboratory. The power she would grant the WHAM ARMY is unimaginable!"

"How could she even come back?" Deymos asked. "If nobody remembered her."

"Sora seems to be the key," Vexen mused. "After all, his memories made up hers. Or perhaps Kairi. The two of them are in league with all of Radiant Garden, after all. Ienzo is likely using my own precious research to help them return Xion to their realm. And for what purpose? Not as a warrior. They most likely seek another 'friend.' How pitiful."

"Y'know, you say that," Deymos told him, "and it's pretty obvious you like tagging along with these WHAM ARMY jerks. If it wasn't for you saying I'd die if I teamed up with you, it'd look like my kind of bag." His expression went almost nervous. "Say I wanted to check in. Where do you guys – "

"It currently hovers among a field of asteroids and debris that is all but impossible to navigate," Vexen told him abruptly. "Were I you, I would simply appreciate my freedom, and perhaps confine my actions to this library, now that the haunts have apparently been chased out."

"So…you REALLY don't want me following you." Deymos straightened up, sitting dead center of the couch. Faltering on the way, catching himself. "I'm trying to be nice here. What about this isn't working?"

"Perhaps it's that you've forgotten who I am," Vexen reminded him. "After all, in no way should it have escaped your notice that I never was one for compassion."

"Yeah, you're a jerk, all right," Deymos sighed, and Vexen couldn't make out exactly what the tone was behind such a declaration. "Forget I asked. You're right, anyway. I do better on my own."

"That is something that couldn't possibly escape MY notice. You always were a free spirit…even if you would waste your freedom perched on a window seat."

Deymos put up a hand to give a dismissive wave.

Something clicked. Vexen regarded him with interest; "…And now I know."

"Now you know what?" Deymos looked around jerkily. "What'd you just figure out?" As if there was something in particular he didn't want Vexen to know.

"Why you seem so uncoordinated, despite being a dancer," Vexen stated. "In the ocean, you were as graceful as can be imagined. Here, you are off balance. I now know you are, quite literally, a fish out of water. You're used to maneuvering on three axes with the pressure of the waters around you, aren't you?"

"Heheh…guilty as charged." Deymos laid back on the window, putting his hands behind his head. No longer nervous about whatever it was Vexen hadn't picked out (probably something about traitorous intent, all considered). "You'd think after a few decades, I'd get used to it."

"I think as much as we want to sever ourselves from our point of origin, we never truly can. I know I look back at my younger years and cringe at the very thought. And yet I cannot remove that 'cringe' from my consciousness. Only move forward from it and outdo it."

"Good philosophy," Deymos agreed. "Embrace the cringe."

"As it stands." Vexen reached for several volumes. "I haven't the time to waste here…but I will be taking these."

"Is that a 'thank you' I hear?"

"No."

"Eh. I tried." But Deymos still knew there was a hint of appreciation in Vexen's demeanor – if nothing else, in the gusto with which he peeled down the books Deymos had known he would like.

The group returned to the Courtyard at surprisingly around the same time. Everyone had taken their fair share of books. "You know," Mozenrath remarked, "I might actually have to credit you to some extent, Deymos. This is an untapped fount of knowledge that we've just managed to fill our cups from."

"In other words, you managed to tap it," Wuya baited.

"…Don't," Mozenrath sighed. "Anyway, I think we can use this as a resource. Perhaps even link it to our coming empire."

"I do some things right," Deymos bragged.

"And the best part?" Mozenrath said smugly. "We found this before the Overtakers ever did. WHAM ARMY, one. Maleficent, zero."

"Are you absolutely sure about that?"

The new voice intruding sent shivers down the spines of all present. It had come from behind Mozenrath, and so it was Mozenrath who turned, slowly, to see who had followed him there.

Tall and lanky, pale streaked with blue, the Eliatrope leaned against the edge of an Eluvian. "The vampires mentioned what you did at Numeria," he stated. "So I thought I would follow your trail and see if I could succeed where they failed."

"This is…uh…a friend of yours?" Deymos asked, laughing nervously.

"Enemy," Yzma said flatly.

"And his deal is…?" Deymos prodded.

"I…don't actually remember," Mozenrath admitted. "I have no idea which one this is."

That angered the Eliatrope. "QILBY!" he shrieked, stepping forward with a wide swipe of his arms – one flesh, one made of Hades' magic. "I AM QILBY, THE ELIATROPE WHO RETAINS ALL MEMORY! DOOMED TO REMEMBER AN IMMORTALITY, CENTURIES OF LIFE DESTROYED! THE PROTECTOR OF THE ELIATROPES, BANISHED BY HIS OWN KIND FOR TREACHERY!"

Silence. Then Mozenrath said, "Nnnnno, not ringing a bell…"

Qilby forced himself to calm down. "It isn't like it matters," he said. "After all, you won't live long enough to need to remember me. Though this…this interests me." He pointed a glowing blue finger in Deymos' direction.

"Whoa, hey, not interested!" Deymos protested, flinching.

Qilby smirked. "Speaking of treachery. What drove you to turn your back on us?"

Everyone in the plaza who wasn't Qilby or Deymos froze.

"Turn my back…?" Deymos repeated. "Oh, this has something to do with the bad timeline. I get it."

"I'm not sure you do," Qilby challenged. "Furthermore…I'm not sure you're the person I thought you were. Well, either way…whether you are a duplicate or a traitor, the boss will be glad to hear of your disposal. And if you are a double agent, then she won't mind sparing the energy to bring you back."

"WHAT THE HEY ARE YOU EVEN TALKING ABOUT?" Deymos cried. "This is like the Organization song and dance all over again! Big mysterious boss? Hunting down traitors! Nuh-uh! I spent so much time already trying to get that off my back!"

Wuya gasped; "GET DOWN!"

Deymos instinctively ducked. The warning, however, wasn't for him. It was for Mozenrath, who failed to notice a portal building behind his head while Deymos had the attention of the audience. Wuya tackled Mozenrath to the ground, batting the portal energy that seared forth into a deadly beam aside with one hand. It crashed into a bookshelf, shaking the Courtyard.

"Now, THAT was underhanded," Mysterio pointed out. "And it wasn't even good."

Zevon had his staff out in a moment's notice; "MOZENRATH! THROW ME THE RUBY!"

Mozenrath scrambled for the gem. Flung it through the air toward Zevon. Zevon put up a hand to catch it; it sparkled in the dim light.

Qilby's eyes lit up as he watched the Star of Isis fly. "The gem of the Corona Aurora - !"

Said ruby sailed right past Zevon and beaned Deymos in the head; "OW!"

"WE ARE TALKING ABOUT YOUR DYSPRAXIA SOONER OR LATER!" Wuya hissed.

Qilby tensed up like a cat. Deymos and Vexen both noticed it.

"PROTECT THE GEM!" Mozenrath yelled.

The Eliatrope leapt, and the two former Nobodies extended their hands. There was a rush, a cracking sound, a grand shimmer. And then both Vexen and Deymos were encased in a dome of ice, the gem safe with them.

"Not good, not good, NOT GOOD!" Deymos yelped. "You got a secret weakness for this nutcase?"

"Neopolitan," Vexen grumbled.

"HOW IS ICE CREAM GONNA HELP US HERE?"

"It isn't," Vexen sighed. "Focus on keeping the gem protected. We CANNOT let it fall into enemy hands!"

Qilby had slammed into the dome several times by now, scratching and clawing to shave away the ice. When it began to crack, Vexen shrieked, "REINFORCE!"

And as though they'd always known how to do so, he and Deymos extended their hands again. A thin layer of water coated the inside of the dome, and then immediately froze solid. Qilby battered against another layer.

"ARE WE SERIOUSLY JUST GONNA CAMP OUT IN HERE UNTIL HE GOES AWAY?" Deymos shrieked.

"IS THAT NOT WHAT WE DO?" Vexen retorted angrily. "I AM A SHIELDER AND YOU A COWARD WHO RUNS! AND IN CASE YOU'D FORGOTTEN, BOTH OF OUR DEMISES CAME ABOUT WHEN WE CHOSE TO GO ON THE OFFENSIVE!"

"Yeah, and we're on a beeline to round two!" Deymos reminded him.

"Not if I have anything to say about it," Vexen declared through gritted teeth, turning his attention to the dome so he could begin to heal fractures in it.

"…Huh." Deymos shrugged. "Well, who knew?"

Qilby recoiled from the dome, making a three-point landing. He was aware of Wuya and Mozenrath charging up opposing magic to attempt to wound him. His lips twitched into a lopsided smirk.

"Come and get me," he dared. "If you can."

Hundreds of aqua-blue portals opened in the Courtyard, pointed every which way except at their maker. And when Qilby righted himself, throwing his hand out, they began to fire.

Mozenrath ran for his life while Zevon encased himself in a ball of magic once more and used it to absorb the attacks of most of the portals. He rushed Qilby, who avoided the magic hamster ball and flitted directly into Wuya's path. He danced with her, the two trading blows of limbs and magic, until Yzma jumped into the fray, and Wuya lobbed her the sparking pom-poms of magic that allowed the two of them to hit Qilby with their deadly cheerleading routine, dancing around the erratic portal beams all the while. They struck their final poses, spelling out a W-U-Y-A and a Y-Z-M-A with their bodies, then slammed the pom-poms into Qilby, who was thrown across the Courtyard with a shriek. Several books fell onto his head; he then righted himself and readied for the next charge.

Then he found himself on the defensive; bright green beams were firing at him from behind another shelf that had been strategically jostled into a lean-to. Shocker blasted at Qilby rapidly, then retreated behind the shelf, where Mysterio was crouched, in order to avoid the next barrage from the portals.

"Just so you know," Mysterio informed him, "I'm only not helping because I want to boost your ego by demonstrating that you've got this."

Qilby launched himself at the bookshelf, only to be brutally tackled from the side. Gill pinned him down, slamming his head onto the floor. "YOU'RE CHEATING!" the mutant accused.

"No." Qilby grinned toothily. "You're just playing too fair."

A thrust of both legs and his feet caught Gill in the solar plexus, flinging him upward and leaving him free to continue the assault. Mozenrath had by that time made his own lean-to out of a bookshelf, and was using it as a stronghold from which to magically launch several books at Qilby – books that opened to spill out ink made of pure destructive energy, forcing the Eliatrope to leap high and avoid singing his feet on the pool.

The portal beams kept firing, chipping at the ice dome, and it had become clear that reinforcing it from the inside wasn't going to be viable for much longer. With every new coat of ice, the dome became smaller, and now Vexen and Deymos were literally back to back, crouching on their knees in the confined space.

"We can't hold out this way much longer!" Vexen cried. "We've got to make a final assault!"

"Final assault, final assault – " Deymos muttered. Then, "Do you trust me?"

"No! But I don't have any CHOICE, now, do I?"

"You've had my back for a reason!" Deymos reminded him. "And don't say you owe me for the Abyss, because the Vexen I know would NEVER care about that!"

"You've been TOLERABLE," Vexen sighed. "That behavior should at least be rewarded."

"The point is, I can shut this guy up, but I need you to help me out here! And that means we gotta look vulnerable for a couple seconds! Now for the LAST time, do you trust me not to HURT you?"

Vexen waited until the last possible second to give his answer; "Yes. I do. Now WHAT do you have in mind?"

The dome shattered in a glittering of shards, the ice expanding outward. In one instant, Qilby saw the protectors of the gem wide open, practically defenseless. Well, except for the fact that Deymos now had his sitar in hand, fist raised high; apparently, he'd used it to cause the shatter.

Standing back to back – but not touching, of course – Deymos and Vexen raised opposite arms, bringing them down to point at Qilby. Deymos strummed a chord; the shards flew in a flurry toward the Eliatrope.

Qilby evaded, flipping over himself over and over as he ascended into the air – only to find that the shards were tracking him. And also melting. They reformed into an army of watery warriors, clones of Deymos equipped with their own sitars.

Vexen twitched a hand, and the clones crystallized, all sharp edges moving in perfect fluidity. The ice warriors set about battering Qilby.

Qilby knew there was no way to evade. But if he could take out the source, he could take out the magic they'd made. He turned all his portals to fixate on Vexen and Deymos alone.

But they'd known that would happen. Without even thinking, they linked hands, now employing their feet to dance across the battlefield and mislead the portals in their wake, and Deymos provided the backbeat to the song they hustled to: "ONE! TWO! THREE! FOUR! MOTION ON THE OCEAN FLOOR! FIVE! SIX! SEVEN! EIGHT! DOUBLE BUBBLE, SWIM SOME MORE! ONE! TWO! THREE! FOUR! MOTION ON THE OCEAN FLOOR!"

Qilby spun, lashing out at the ice forms with his Chthonic claw. They began to shred into shavings. But by that time, the rest of the team had regrouped, chiming in on the Sayu hit as their feet hit the floor. Yzma and Zevon hurled dual potions, which shattered on Qilby's skin and caused a mean sizzle. Gill spat, and Shocker propelled the slime further on the beams from his gauntlets, splattering it into the fresh burns to agitate them.

The last of the ice warriors were destroyed. Qilby hovered over all – and had only precious moments to survey before Mozenrath and Wuya each launched an entire bookshelf at him.

The Eliatrope came crashing down in a flurry of breaking planks and fluttering books. When he hit the ground, he saw two pairs of black boots stamp down in front of him.

"I say we end this," Vexen stated.

"The final showstopper," Deymos agreed. "Just…one question for you."

He struck the last chord. A thick sluice of water rushed Qilby, and then, emitting a cold mist, it froze completely over.

"LIKE IT?" Deymos crowed.

(And Vexen had said it right along with him.)

The full force of that many pounds of solid ice slammed into Qilby, throwing him right out the arched door. Mozenrath led the charge to follow him.

"You…" Qilby pried himself up, bruised, burned, and bleeding. Unable to even stand to full height, but hunched over and disheveled. "You may survive the day. But I managed to win the fight when you weren't looking."

He put up his flesh hand. The Star of Isis, which he'd grabbed through a stray portal during the beatdown, glimmered in it.

"YOU GIVE THAT BACK RIGHT NOW!" Zevon demanded.

"No," Qilby said. "I'll be delivering it along with some very crucial information I've learned here."

"YOU ARE NOT TELLING ANYONE ABOUT THIS LIBRARY!" Mozenrath roared, his right hand gleaming bright blue.

"NOR ARE YOU GETTING AWAY WITH WHAT'S MINE!" Zevon yelled, extending his staff to Qilby.

"Let's end this," Wuya growled.

Gauntlets and magic and gems and slime charged up, ready for a final assault. Qilby regarded the WHAM ARMY with amusement, ready to simply disappear at the last second.

The blows were never thrown. Qilby jerked harshly, an expression of utter terror on his face. "N…no," he croaked, spitting up vibrant blue blood.

Two blades had pierced him from behind, right through his heart, extending through his chest. Before the WHAM ARMY could even begin to attempt the final blow, Qilby was already at his end.

The Eliatrope collapsed to his knees as he sputtered his last for this lifetime, spewing blood, sliding off the blades. His arm of Hades' energy dimmed, then dissipated, leaving him beige and brunette without a sign of his previous glow, his blue blood dimming to red. And as he toppled, flat on the floor, he revealed the identity of his killer.

"WRONG!" Kamdor roared. "THAT GEM IS MINE!" And in one quick motion, he'd bent to Qilby's corpse and swiped the Star of Isis off of it.

"You…" Zevon raised his staff high, ready to use it as a bludgeon rather than a magic implement as he rushed Kamdor. "THAT KILL WAS OURS! HOW DARE YOU? THAT WAS OUR ENEMY!"

"NOT ANYMORE, HE ISN'T!" Kamdor turned on a heel. "AND NEITHER IS THE RUBY!"

He pushed off, springing to the next island.

"DON'T LET HIM GET AWAY!" Yzma crowed, and Deymos immediately sprang into action creating a ramp of water between the islands – knowing that Vexen would freeze it right over, allowing them all to slide across. Kamdor leapt to another island, and Wuya built an arched bridge with a curled railing at a moment's notice to continue the chase.

But Kamdor specialized in being fast. In almost no time, he'd managed to leap away, taking the gem with him. Still, the others ran in the direction they'd seen him escape in, an enraged Zevon screaming at their head.

Then, suddenly, the mists vanished. They were elsewhere entirely. Blue all around, with a sky made of water, like an ocean that you had to jump up into rather than fall down to touch. Vibrant colors at every turn. An expansive plain, like a dry coral reef. Crags more complex than those of the Fade. And so many things slithering around, quite alive and hungry.

Kamdor was nowhere to be seen.

"He knows," Mozenrath seethed. "He KNOWS the last gem is here in Lalotai!"

"AND I'M GOING TO HINDRANCER HIM FROM GETTING IT IF IT'S THE LAST THING I DO!" Zevon screamed.

...

A/N: Any and all Dragon Age references are based on the history made in my personal playthrough (though I might spare a couple people who died in my run). This means that Trevelyan is very blatantly me. You've probably also figured out Inlustris is blatantly me. I can have two of me in my own fanfiction. Try and stop me.