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.

138. Chapter 138

"Y'know, we were waiting a while for you."

Braig's heels tapped on the cold white floor of the Castle That Never Was, marking a jaunty cadence as he made for his Proof of Existence and the portal to his personal chambers.

"The old coot thought you'd be a welcome addition. After all, wanting to destroy a world in fire so you can remake a new one is kind of what we're all about. You stick it out for the long run and maybe we can hook you up with a nice little patch for your kiddos to run around in."

What he carried was a sizeable elliptical object, shimmering red. It might've just looked like an oversized ruby if you glanced at it without thinking.

"Shame that sister of yours doesn't agree. Oh, well. We can take care of that problem. Don't worry. We don't have to kill her. 'Sides, she'd just end back up in there anyway and we'd have to start all over. Don't want that."

He reached his Proof. Touched it with a finger. Found himself in a chamber stocked with more books than one might expect of him, a few globes of key worlds, a desk with sketches of Keyblades.

"Still and all. You haven't exactly agreed to the proposition yet. We can talk once you're done incubating."

He placed the object on the desk, stepping back to take a look at it. It was no stone, but an egg. A dragon's egg, known as a Dofus. The type from which hatched a symbiotic sibling duo of dragon and Eliatrope, serving as a regeneration point.

"'Till then, guess I'm your babysitter," Braig said with a smirk as he observed the forms of humanoid fetus and dragon hatchling-to-be swirling about in the egg, beneath the translucent red surface. "But I wanna make one thing clear, Qilby. No whining about how you've got too many lives and too many memories. Trust me. There are people around here who've lived more lifetimes than you, and you don't hear them complaining."

...

Once again, Ven and Papyrus stood before the lighthouse.

"I hear it now," Ven realized. The clang-clang-clang from the tunnels. Louder. "It's definitely somewhere around here."

They walked the perimeter of the building until they found the source: a wiry pole that blew in the wind, repeatedly hitting the cement wall. And also, a strange metal double door that almost looked like that of an elevator.

"Huh." Ven reached out to put a hand on it. "Wonder where this goes."

"LET'S FIND OUT!" Papyrus suggested, reaching to open the doors.

Well, as it turned out, they were sealed tightly, and after Papyrus had literally planted his boots on the wall and stood all but sideways in an attempt to get the leverage to yank them open, Ven suggested, "Let's see if there's something else we're supposed to do to open them. You found the passage in the Hot Kettle by looking for a secret lever, right? Maybe there's one in the lighthouse, too!"

Papyrus dropped into the dirt. "YOU GO SEE IF YOU CAN FIND IT," he panted, "SINCE I GOT THE LAST ONE. I'LL STAY HERE AND WATCH THE DOORS."

Ven rushed off into the lighthouse proper, where he felt around the walls on the main level thoroughly, and he was almost about to move positions to the upper lighthouse when his hand brushed a pipe on the stove, revealing it not to be a functioning pipe but a hidden panel. "Huh?"

Beneath that panel, a tiny metal lever. He flicked it. "FOUND SOMETHING!" he yelled through the wall.

A clank came from the other side, followed by Papryus' muffled yell of "IT WORKED!"

Ven raced back out to see that the doors were now wide open, revealing a ladder to a basement. Down they went to find a modest room with a rustic wooden table and a door across the way that looked rather familiar.

Papyrus went first to the table, where he picked up a cardboard box. "IT SEEMS TO BE A BOX OF LIGHTBULBS," he observed. "I'M GOING TO BORROW IT FOR THE MORSE CODE MACHINE UPSTAIRS. AFTER ALL, IF I'M USING A BULB FROM THE LIGHTHOUSE ON A DEVICE THAT BELONGS TO THE LIGHTHOUSE AS WELL, I'M NOT STEALING. IT'S MAINTENANCE."

"Good call," Ven told him. He, however, was fascinated by the door: a handleless length of stone with a sliding panel set near the top and the words "Though the efforts of many built the wall seen here" engraved in it.

"It rhymes," Ven realized. "Though the efforts of many built the wall seen here, it takes but two to make it disappear."

The panel slid aside to reveal a sliding puzzle with the pieces of Cadborosaurus that were missing from the door at the end of the long tunnel. Ven clicked them into place, and now that the lock was complete on both sides, the door swung open to reveal that very tunnel, where they'd been resting not too long ago and figured out the source of the noise.

But that wasn't all. Papyrus found that the floor beneath him completely gave way, and he managed to latch onto the floorboards before he could plummet completely into the newly-opened aperture. "VEN! I COULD USE SOME ASSISTANCE HERE!"

"Hang on!" Ven rushed to him, reaching out to hoist him onto the floor proper. Once they both knelt on solid planks, they got a better look at what had happened. A trap door, coincidentally positioned where Papyrus had been, and another ladder leading down.

They looked to each other. Then shared a nod.

This one led down another level, into what was quite obviously part of the sea-cave network. The ladder culminated at a small bank on the edge of the sea within the caverns.

"Whoa…" Ven's eyes lit up as he observed the caves from this deep inside. "This is so cool!"

"IT SURE SEEMS LIKE A LOVELY PLACE TO RELAX AND TAKE YOUR MIND OFF IT ALL," Papyrus said.

"Yeah."

Then came the question that they really should've thought of first: "VEN. WHY DID THE ARCHITECT OF THIS LIGHTHOUSE BUILD A SECRET LADDER TO THE SEA CAVES UNDER THE BASEMENT?"

"I…can't tell you," Ven replied. "But I have a feeling that's important to everything else we've found. Between that and Jenna being secretive, I'm starting to think maybe this whole town is hiding something from us. Something bigger than the whale."

"AND IF IT'S BIGGER THEN A WHALE, WE'VE GOT A PROBLEM."

"Yeah." Ven turned to look back at the ladder, and the only landmark on the bank caught his eye. "Hey. What's that?"

Papyrus turned to observe. A brass panel on the wall, with several buttons set in it and another serpentine sea monster carved on it. It moved aside to reveal two dials shaped like sea monsters, the heads turned inward to encompass whatever symbol you wanted to assign them to. The symbols were ornate, like heraldry, and not at all anything that struck a chord with Ven or Papyrus.

Papyrus, of course, had to spend some time spinning the dials to see if he could figure out a combination through sheer luck, but nothing so fortunate happened. "I GUESS WE NEED ANOTHER PIECE FOR THIS PUZZLE," he mused. "LIKE THAT DOOR WE JUST OPENED."

"In any case, it's kinda nice to have an extra-special road from here back to the café," Ven realized. "It's all ours, and nobody can bother us if we wanna just take a walk! …But also, probably good for safety, if we need to travel without being seen."

"YOU THINK WE'LL NEED THAT EXTREME?"

"I think…we're onto something people don't want us to know about. That could get tricky."

Well, Papyrus really just liked having a private road for strolling and talking while holding hands, but he didn't want to make it seem like that was his priority (even though Ven had quite obviously thought of it before the more practical use).

"WHY DON'T WE GO UPSTAIRS AND SEND OUR GUMMIPHONE NUMBER TO HILDA?" Papyrus suggested.

At the top of the tower, they clicked a new lightbulb into the Morse Code machine, only to find that it was rusted shut.

"I don't really wanna head all the way back to town to get something to fix it," Ven sighed.

"NEVER FEAR!" Papyrus held up a lemon. "THESE USUALLY TAKE CARE OF RUST."

"…Do I wanna know why you were carrying a lemon around the island?"

"WELL, I'D BEEN MEANING TO COLLECT SUPPLIES FOR EMERGENCY PASTA RATIONS," Papyrus told him, "SINCE THAT'S SOMETHING A PERSON ALWAYS NEEDS. AND I THOUGHT LEMON PASTA WOULD BE A NICE DEPARTURE FROM THE TOMATO-SAUCED NORM. BUT ALL I EVER GOT AROUND TO WAS CARRYING THE LEMON."

"I didn't know you could cook," Ven said with a grin. "I'd love to try the food you make, if you ever wanna share."

"ABSOLUTELY! I ALWAYS MAKE SPAGHETTI AND ANY OTHER PASTA OFFSHOOTS I'M FEELING AS COMMUNAL DISHES. WHY, I NEVER EVEN USED TO EAT MY OWN SPAGHETTI. I WOULD ONLY MAKE IT FOR OTHER PEOPLE." His head tilted downward. "IT DIDN'T GET EATEN VERY OFTEN, THOUGH."

"That's awful," Ven told him. "We need to make some time when we get back to cook some together, and then we can share it."

"I WOULD LIKE THAT." Papyrus brightened.

Finally, they had the Morse Code device primed to flash the GummiPhone number (Ven's, due to the results of a coin toss) out of the lighthouse tower.

"This could be a turning point," Ven realized. "I'm…kinda nervous."

"THE BEST WAY TO OVERCOME NERVES IS JUST TO BLINDLY STUMBLE FORWARD WITHOUT THINKING TOO HARD ABOUT WHY IT MIGHT BE SCARY!" Papyrus declared. "LIKE THIS!" And without further pause, he set the machine in motion.

Lights flashed rapidly. Across the sea, they could faintly see a second light replying.

"What's it say?" Ven asked.

"GOT IT," Papyrus replied. "THAT MEANS SHE GOT IT!"

And Ven's phone rang.

When Ven answered, after mild hesitation, the screen didn't portray the speaker – after all, the call was coming from a land line rather than Gummi video technology. "Hello?" Ven answered tentatively.

"Hello, Ventus." The voice from the other side sounded sharp and stern, yet lilting and pleasant all the same. "Or is it 'Ven' you go by, since your full name is such archaic-sounding Latin?"

"Either one," Ven replied. "Are you…Hilda Swenson?"

"Easy, there," Hilda replied. "It's not like you're talking to the Queen of England. Although I did meet her once. Stuffy lot, those Windsors."

"HILDA!" Papyrus cried. "IT'S WONDERFUL TO FINALLY SPEAK TO YOU! I'M GLAD TO HAVE FOUND SOMEONE WHO LOVES PUZZLES AS DEEPLY AS I!"

"You're the one who never takes off the skeleton mask, aren't you?" Hilda replied. "I'm just glad someone with enough savvy finally showed up to decode my messages."

"It's nice to meet you!" Ven said brightly. "I know we've never spoken before, but it already feels like we're friends!"

"Hm, yes, well, I suppose time will tell on that front," Hilda replied. "A little soon to call it now, don't you think? But it's a very definite possibility. Now, let's get on with it; we may be running out of time. Does either of you have a working email address?"

"…What's an email address?" Ven replied.

"Ah," Hilda said. "So that's a no."

"WELL, I DID, AT ONE POINT," Papyrus admitted. "BUT THEN I MOVED TO A NEW TOWN, AND THEN I MOVED TO A WHOLE NEW…NATION, AND I HAVEN'T TOUCHED A COMPUTER IN A WHILE. MAYBE I SHOULD. I'M MUCH BETTER AT MAKING FRIENDS NOW, AND THIS MUST MEAN THAT I CAN FINALLY ACT RESPECTFUL ON SOCIAL MEDIA AND GET THE CONNECTIONS AND KINDNESS I DESERVE IN RETURN!"

"All right, we're going to have to do this the hard way," Hilda resolved. "I want you two to go to the public library and open up a page. Make your way to the email tab, then use the address 'hswenson26 ' and the password 'Rosebud,' capital R, the rest all lowercase, one word, to access my secondary account. I'll be using it to send you an email from my primary account. Don't think about using the secondary for anything, because it's locked not to send responses without a particular second password that I'm not going to give you. Simply read the email I've sent, follow the instructions, and we'll do lunch."

"At the Hot Kettle?" Ven asked excitedly.

"OR SHOULD I INVITE YOU TO A LEMON SPAGHETTI LUNCH?" Papyrus suggested. "VEN AND I WERE JUST – "

"No, no, no," Hilda broke in. "It's just an expression. No one in Hollywood ever really has lunch when they say they're going to do lunch."

"WELL, THAT'S RUDE," Papyrus huffed. "GETTING ONE'S HOPES UP FOR LUNCH AND ALL."

"Well, that's Hollywood for you," Hilda told him. "Anyhow, I'll be in touch. And rest assured, I'll be watching."

"But wait!" Ven cried. "What about your secret? And the orca? And the weird things we've found – "

"That will come later," Hilda said sharply to cut him off. "We're still getting to know each other, after all. And I need to make sure you're the ones I can trust. After all, someone had been up in that lighthouse shortly before you ever got there, which, by all rights, shouldn't be happening. I hope they aren't doing any damage."

"They just left a mess, that's all," Ven related. "Some candy wrappers and an empty plate with crumbs – "

"VEN," Papyrus urged, suddenly trembling. "CORRECT ME IF I'M WRONG, BUT THE LAST TIME WE'RE HERE, WASN'T THERE A SANDWICH ON THAT PLATE?"

"I…didn't pay that close of attention, to tell you the truth," Ven admitted.

"SOMEONE WAS UP HERE IN BETWEEN OUR VISITS," Papyrus muttered. "AND THEY'VE BEEN USING THIS TOWER TO EAT THEIR LUNCH VERY SUSPICIOUSLY."

"You see what we have to worry about, now," Hilda said. "We really must put a stop to this. Ciao."

The line disconnected.

"I guess we're going to the library," Ven surmised.

"THAT WOULD BE THE NEXT LOGICAL COURSE OF ACTION," Papyrus agreed. "OH, AND VEN, I WOULDN'T WORRY. HILDA MAY HAVE SOME TRUST ISSUES, BUT I CAN TELL WE'RE ALL THREE GOING TO BE VERY GOOD FRIENDS. AFTER ALL, WHO WOULDN'T LOVE YOU?"

His heart clenched, because the fact that someone didn't love Ven (at least not properly) was the entire reason they were here. But he wasn't about to backtrack on that.

There was a fair share of complaints about how there really should've been a tunnel system to the library as Ven and Papyrus biked over. They ran inside, settling down at a public computer and scooting two chairs close together at the same desk in order to access the email Hilda had sent.

It was more coordinates. But with some of the digits removed, replaced by placeholder letters, and those letters corresponded to trivia questions Hilda had devised that would result in numerical answers.

Only one of which Papyrus or Ven had any idea how to answer, and that was the cost of a cup of clam chowder at the Hot Kettle (three dollars).

"So she wants the number of nuns surrounding Snake Horse Harbor," Ven mused. "Nuns?"

"MUST BE A CONVENT NEARBY," Papyrus suggested. "WE'LL HAVE TO FIND A DISCREET WAY TO COUNT THE NUNS THERE. THE ID NUMBER OF THE BUOY WITH GRAFFITI ON IT, WE CAN FIND BY KAYAKING OUT. BUT WHAT'S AN 'ISOPHASE' BUOY?"

"I dunno. I mean, we are in the library. We can probably look it up. But she also asks about cairns in the tunnels. What's a 'cairn'?"

"YOU KNOW, THOSE ROCKY STACKY THINGS THAT LOOK LIKE SAND CASTLES BUT UGLIER," Papyrus told him. "WHAT BEATS ME IS THAT I DIDN'T SEE A SINGLE CAIRN WHILE WE WERE DOWN THERE."

"Maybe we just weren't looking hard enough."

"PERHAPS. ANYHOW, LET'S MOVE ON."

Ven asked for a book that would tell him about buoys, and he and Papyrus were able to peruse a glossary of nautical terms, in which they not only learned that an "isophase" buoy was one whose light flashed intermittently for equal periods on and off, but also that "nun" was slang for a red, even-numbered buoy meant to mark the edge of a channel leaving a harbor.

"GOOD THING WE FIGURED THAT OUT," Papyrus sighed. "THAT COULD'VE BEEN AWKWARD IF WE'D HAD TO EXPLAIN WHY WE NEEDED TO COUNT ALL THE NUNS IN THE CONVENT."

"So it looks like we can knock three of these out in a kayak trip," Ven stated. "Then we'll have to go back underground and look for cairns."

"THEN LET'S GO!"

Ven's phone rang again. He picked it up, answering and asking excitedly, "Hilda?"

Though the screen showed no image, the voice that came through wasn't that of Hilda. Or at least, it didn't seem to be. It was heavily distorted and deepened, to the point where maybe it could've been Hilda; neither Ven nor Papyrus could've told anything about what that voice originally would've sounded like.

"A suffocating man finally takes a breath," the voice rumbled. "But that is exactly what leads to his death. Why?"

Ven looked worriedly to Papyrus, but Papyrus was more concerned with figuring out the answer. "THAT WOULD ONLY HAPPEN IF THE PERSON WAS UNDERWATER AND DROWNING," Papyrus stated confidently.

"Correct-a-mundo!" the distorted voice replied. "And that's what's going to happen to you unless you drop your amateur investigation NOW."

The line went dead.

"YOU…YOU DON'T THINK…" Papyrus looked to Ven, eyes bugging slightly. "HILDA…?"

"No," Ven replied. "She wouldn't double back like that. But I'd been thinking about it since we broadcast my number. What if Hilda wasn't the only one who saw it? We did flash it over the entire harbor."

"WELL, I'M NOT GOING TO LET THIS SCARE ME," Papyrus resolved. Then he flinched; "BUT IF YOU'RE NOT FEELING OKAY WITH THIS – "

"No." Ven's brow was furrowed. "I have a Keyblade. You have magic. We can defend ourselves if we need to. And we have the secret tunnels to move around safely. But most importantly, I'm done letting people tell me to back off doing what I think is right because there'll be nasty consequences. I'm gonna see this through, and the fact that someone threatened me about it makes me want to finish it more."

Papyrus had never felt such intense affection toward Ven as he had in that moment, but was still careful not to let it show.

...

Qrow cleared his throat as he gently sat beside Ruby on the couch. "Hey. Ruby."

"Huh?" Ruby's head whipped to look at him, meaning she had to tear her gaze away from the clock she'd been watching to perfectly time her re-entry to Malachite's to pick up the information.

"I, uh…" Qrow looked away nervously. "I know this hasn't exactly turned out the way you wanted. No Huntsman reserves, no legwork to figure out what we're up against…and I feel like maybe I haven't been the best chaperone. In my defense, I wasn't exactly expecting to have to look after anybody."

"Oh, it's fine," Ruby told him. "Sometimes it's good to just…rest and relax. Catch our breath."

Because she knew, no matter how discreet she was, that if she let any information slip to Qrow, it would get back to Malachite. Oscar? Not on the radar. The others were mostly from different worlds, or would be heading to them after this. But Qrow wasn't safe, and Ruby was well aware of that.

"I thought I'd make it up to you." Qrow didn't specify exactly what he was making up for, but he was sure she could read between the lines. After all, he was conscious of how his drinking sessions and subsequent absences to sleep them off had been impacting the team. "You remember how we always used to play Remnant: The Game together as a family? Whaddaya say we do a round for old times' sake?"

"Uhhhhhh…" Ruby blanked. Remnant: The Game was an incredibly fun strategy board game. But it was also the kind of game that took at least an hour for anyone to achieve a victory in, and she didn't have an hour.

"Right." Qrow sighed, frowning. "I get it. Too little too late. I'll work on it." He shifted to get up.

Well, now Ruby felt guilty, so before Qrow could leave, she blurted, "I'D LOVE TO PLAY A AROUND!"

And that was how she ended up sitting around a game board with Weiss, Jaune, Ren, Nora, Qrow, and Oscar. All the Remnant natives who knew the game.

"Oh, no!" Ruby said loudly and obviously. "We have seven players and this is a four-player game. That's too bad. I'll sit out if anyone else wants in – "

"What, you forget how to play doubles?" Qrow winked at her.

"Uh…doubles." Right. There was a game mode that allowed teams of two to control a kingdom. "I forgot. I'm silly."

Weiss, Jaune, Ren, Nora, and Oscar exchanged nervous glances. They, too, knew what time it was. But now they had all the more reason not to turn down Qrow's game, because if all of them started acting suspicious, he'd catch on.

"DIBS ON WEISS!" Ruby shrieked, throwing a fist into the air.

"Thank you, Ruby!" Weiss replied, beaming. "You know, I used to be pretty bad at this game, but I think I've really shaped up, and I'm honored you picked me as your partner!"

Ruby's nervous expression gave her away. Weiss scooted closer to Ruby, whispering so only she could hear, "Aaaaand you picked me so we could lose right away and you could get away faster, didn't you?"

"Sorry," Ruby hissed back.

"Ren and I will be partners as usual," Nora said. "Then we have three people left and we need a fourth – "

"Actually, Ozpin and I are two people," Oscar reminded her. "He's also telling me that's bad odds from the get-go because his level of experience means he can win this game way more easily than any of you even know."

"So, Qrow," Jaune said nervously. "Let's you and me take over the world."

"Just so we're not Vacuo," Qrow stated.

"WE'LL BE VACUO!" Ruby yelled as Weiss rolled her eyes.

"Oz wants me to take Vale," Oscar said. "I think that's fair."

"How about we run Atlas?" Nora asked Ren, playfully jabbing him with an elbow to make him smile softly. "Better than the current administration, ehhhhh?"

"No comment," Weiss said flatly.

"Then Jaune and I will handle Mistral," Qrow said.

It was the most agonizing fifteen minutes of Ruby's life, eyes flicking back and forth between the game board and the clock.

"Ruby…Ruby? RUBY."

"WAH!" Ruby flinched dramatically.

Qrow was giving her a look most sardonic. "You've been zoned out for the past thirty seconds. Is everything okay?"

"Yeah!" Ruby nodded emphatically.

"You sure?" Qrow asked. "'Cause it looks like you're distracted by something."

Ozpin whispered a plan. Oscar caught Ruby's eye. He rose; "I, uh…I have to use the bathroom. Bad. I'll be back."

He strode away, and Ruby caught his drift. "Nonononono WAIT – "

Oscar hustled into the bathroom, shutting the door.

"NOOOOOO!" Ruby howled dramatically, zooming to the door and pounding on it. "I NEEDED TO USE THAT, OSCAR!" She then immediately gave up. "It's an emergency situation! Gotta go find another one!" Remembering it was her turn, she flicked a card onto the board. "GottagoBYE!"

"HEYYYY!" Weiss cried as she saw the card that landed face-up. "You just gave Atlas a HUGE advantage! That was practically sabotage!"

Ruby was already out the door.

"I feel like there's something I'm missing here," Qrow stated.

"Like maybe the fact that ATLAS IS ABOUT TO DOMINATE THE WORLD?" Nora urged. "All thanks to Ruby's shitty playstyle!"

"I get no credit here," Weiss muttered.

"Do you want credit for screwing up the whole game?" Ren asked her.

Down in the streets of the kingdom, Ruby tore through at top speed, muttering "GottagettoMalachite gottagettoMalachite GOTTAGETTOMALACHITE!" before she erupted into a red comet, plunging deeper into the shady district until she had finally zoomed right through the curtain to Li'l Miss Malachite's establishment and crashed into a table, knocking it completely over.

All heads were turned to regard her. Malachite herself chuckled. "Well, well. If it ain't the li'l bloom. Somebody's in a rush."

Ruby leapt to her feet with a "HEEYAH!", dusting herself off.

"Such a rush," Malachite said sweetly, "that she didn't even bother hidin' her identity."

Ruby froze in place. Malachite had been able to figure who she was immediately, but that identity presumably hadn't been broadcast all over the tavern. The tavern now filled with ruffians. Sheepishly slowly, Ruby raised her fake mustache from her pocket and affixed it to her face.

She then walked briskly up to Malachite. "We got rid of the Grimm," she urged. "Now do you have any info for us? 'Cause I gotta get back before Vale takes its turn!"

"Very well." Malachite leaned forward. "First of all, let's start out with things on the Branwen side. A little birdie tells me you're a hatchlin' with ties to the Branwen tribe."

"Yang's mom?" Ruby asked. "What does she have to do with anything? We already know she has the Spr – someone we're looking for."

"Word has it she had a coupla visitors," Malachite told her. "Strangers, from a kingdom nobody can find out just yet. We got a tall fella in long red robes, a dashin' handsome man in leather an' eyeliner, one Mr. Tall-Dark-'n'-Mustachioed, faunus fella with a scorpion tail, lady in red, pink-haired fella with a floral Semblance, silver-haired whelp with prosthetics an' attitude, big bulky fella, an' Cinder Fall herself."

"Maleficent's forces," Ruby realized. "I know some of those descriptions, all right. What did they want with Raven?"

"Alliance," Malachite told her. "An' from what I hear, they got it."

Ruby gasped; "No. Yang's mom is working with them? Against US? Why would she do that?"

"Ain't my job ta know that part," Malachite stated. "But if I had ta guess, I'd say fear's a mighty big factor in it all. After all, they say if ya pay up real nice that Raven Branwen ain't no brave bandit, but a coward who hides behind a mask. Oh, but that ain't all. I picked up some enlightenin' new context the minute ya left, actually."

"What else?" Ruby asked.

"I'd be careful of Leo Lionheart if I was you," Malachite said with a sneer. "He ain't himself these days. Think about all the ways that can be construed."

Ruby flinched. "A…fake Lionheart?"

"Let's just say he offers ya any free lunch, ya don't eat it."

Ruby's stomach dropped as she remembered the nightly deliveries of rabbit stew.

"After all," Malachite went on, "there's a reason all the Huntspeople a' this kingdom up an' went missin'. Though that one was the work of the real deal, to be honest with ya. This new Lionheart, well…y'ain't gonna believe who he's got ties with." She leaned forward, closer. "Now, my sources tell me ya got all three a' those Grimm taken out. With a few extra hands on board, but nobody worth prunin' so long as the information tree stops THERE. That in mind, I'm gonna give ya somethin' worth the trouble. 'Specially since the Kraken tied up a few other Grimm on the way. Ya ready?"

"I don't know," Ruby admitted.

Malachite smiled. "Seems ol' Roman Torchwick ain't as dead as we all thought."

Ruby's shriek of "DANGIT!" caused all eyes to be turned on her.

"Well." Malachite's eyebrows rose. "That ain't the reaction I was expectin'. So ya knew he was back in town, then."

"But not that he was back in this town," Ruby groaned. "I'm guessing he had friends with him. The fake Leo, and anyone else?"

"I met a coupla his associates," Malachite said. "Charmin' entrepreneur with a strange fashion sense, called himself Mr. Zorg. A blue fella, seemed a bit of a square. Our old friend Neopolitan put in an appearance. An' I sent my top operatives, my two nieces, out with 'em. 'Cause I may be tellin' ya this, but ya both paid me up real good, an' I only got loyalty to the almighty lien."

"So you helped him is what you're saying."

"Darn right I did. Is that so wrong? 'Course it is, but that's life, hon. Either ya spin the web or ya trigger the thread." She mused; "Come to think of it, Torchwick an' I had a little chat about the state of Remnant. A real eye-opener. But we also got a bit into his personal life, an' from what I can tell, he ain't only a taken man, the lucky guy's somewhere 'round these parts too."

"Great," Ruby sighed. "Him too. That's just what we need." She paused. "What did Roman tell you about in your meeting?"

"Now, that's top secret," Malachite said with a smirk. "You want that info, you're gonna hafta pay more. Though I dunno you'll have time to cash in the fee. See, there's gonna be a real scuffle goin' down the night of the full moon in the halls of Haven. You can expect everyone I mentioned here today to be there with bells on. Oh, an' if Mel does her job right, which she will, Roman's side's gonna have an automated weapon that's gonna up the ante. Now, you remember our deal, right? I let ya tell a few of the insignificant, but this reaches Qrow Branwen an' our agreement is null an' void."

"Agreement?"

"I give you what ya paid for. An' you live to see another day."

Ruby nodded. "I'll keep it secret. But the fact that I know all of this is going to help us so much. Thank you."

That set Malachite chortling. "Thank me? Aw, hon, ya still don't understand how this works one bit."

"Anything else?" Ruby asked.

"That's as far as your down payment goes," Malachite told her. "You're free to go. But remember what ya promised."

"AH!" Ruby squealed. "THE GAME!"

And she was off like a shot, a crimson wind blowing through the streets of Mistral until she zoomed right back up into the house and settled herself by Weiss at the game board. "WHAT'DIMISS?"

"Oscar came out of the bathroom," Weiss told her. "Then Mistral took its turn to sabotage Atlas. Then Atlas took its turn to sabotage Mistral. Then Oscar laid down a single card and the game's over. He won. Hooray."

"I warned you," Oscar said mischievously. "Ozpin knows his stuff."

"You doin' okay?" Qrow asked. "You were out for a while. Feelin' sick?"

"I was," Ruby told him. "But…I'm better now."

A lie. It was only now that she felt sick. Sick with the knowledge that so many ne'er-do-wells were about to converge on Haven, and she could tell Qrow nothing of the upcoming ambush.

"Then I say we start over," Weiss insisted. "We need an actual fighting chance against the Oz Regime."

The deck was shuffled, the dice were shook, and the game began again. At least if Ruby lost this one, she knew it would have no consequence.

...

Across the upper level of Mistral, several of the WHAM ARMY had also decided it would be a good idea to play Remnant: The Game.

The reason for which being that the substitute professor squad had all walked into their respective classrooms to find buckets of ice water suspended above the doors, splashing down upon them embarrassingly, and the source of the prank could be quite easily traced. Kokichi broke down laughing as he admitted his crime before putting on a straight face and playing the "Or is it?" card.

And so it was agreed upon that he needed to be dealt with. Since Hannibal, Roman, and Miltia weren't to be seen in the classrooms, and Snatcher had phoned in sick to his own class for personal reasons, the four of them were in charge of keeping the prankster occupied. Since it was apparent by now he liked card and board games, Roman saw fit to introduce him to the most tedious game he knew that would keep the boy wrapped up for a sufficient amount of time.

Of course, Snatcher wasn't quite thrilled about having to play doubles with Roman to man Atlas. After all, these weren't the personal reasons he had called in sick for.

Thankfully, the tide turned in his favor. Kokichi had managed to secure a significant lead despite being saddled with Vacuo, Miltia was just laying down cards at random for Vale because she didn't understand how the game worked but that was keeping her afloat far better than any thought-out strategy, and Hannibal was working to destroy Kokichi's infrastructure out of sheer spite. Snatcher had been sabotaging Atlas for a while now, and Roman watched him lay a card that immediately triggered Kokichi's hidden trap card.

"Wowwwww," Kokichi commented. "My Nevermore just decimated your army, and I didn't even have to roll. Either you're REALLY bad at this game or you just wanna get out of this so you and Roman can fuck that badly."

Snatcher choked on his own spit. Meanwhile, Roman finally realized why his team was getting two steps back for every step forward. His eyes widened. Then he chucked a card onto the board; "Will you look at that? Had my own Nevermore the entire time. Pretty high-risk roll, though." He picked up a die, turned it so the "one" faced up, and slammed it down on the board. "Oh no, Atlas down, Team RedHatBlackHat out. What a shame."

"That weren't even your turn," Hannibal said disparagingly.

"Don't care," Roman said as he and Snatcher got to their feet. "Have fun, losers."

The pair of them exited, and Miltia sighed, "Pathetic."

In the classroom across the hall, the door was locked and bolted. "You know, you could've just asked," Roman pointed out.

"Really, Roman?" Snatcher countered. "Is that how I've ever been known to do things?"

"Point made. Though…" Roman sighed deeply. "I need this. It's been a hell of a day. Or a night. Whatever, it was the last twenty-four hours."

"Then we're of one mind."

"Except. I. Um." Roman looked away sheepishly, tugging at his scarf. "Look, I know I never ask this, but…can we just go as vanilla as humanly possible? You can make fun of me later. I'm just…tired."

Snatcher regarded him with surprise, but then nodded in understanding. "But of course." After all, it wasn't every day that a person was forced to confront his traumatic childhood and also watch the person he apparently loved (he loved him, he did and that was out in the open now) walk toward the same doom. In fact, as he was considering it, he was suddenly very sure of exactly what Roman needed in this case. As well as a question he realized he needed answered.

"I'll make a request in return," he said. "I'm going to situate myself at the other side of the room and shut my eyes, at which point you are to reposition yourself within this room and not tell me where, nor give me any other inclination."

"Um…o…kay?" Roman shrugged. "I'm just gonna follow your lead on this one."

He waited and watched as Snatcher walked to the far wall from him, leaning with his back to it, lowering his eyelids. "Well, go on," he said with a wave of his hand.

Perplexed, Roman wove through the desks, stopping at a sufficiently random point.

"Ah, yes…it's as I suspected." Even with his eyes completely shut, putting him in darkness, Snatcher had been able to sense Roman's exact movements. He pivoted to Roman's new position immediately, feeling out the radiance from his new Aura, the Roman-shaped light in the void. "That light of yours. It allows me to see exactly where you are…no matter what."

He began to slowly cross the room to Roman's position, eyes still kept shut. "How convenient, really. How romantic, even. You can't hide from me now. Nor can anyone KEEP you from me. You may very well never truly be alone again. Does that not intimidate you?"

"Actually…" Roman's voice was already hoarse. "Sounds kinda nice." That he could always be found, now. That no matter where he was, Snatcher (and others, he supposed) would always know. He'd be shining annoyingly in their periphery, not letting them forget about him even when he was far away. He smirked at the thought. He was the one who'd be stalked? Oh, no, his presence would loom over the others, and he would make the most of it. "I guess it's a bonus knowing you couldn't forget me even if you tried. I'm gonna be glowing in your face twenty-four/seven, aren't I?"

"Such a fate, an eternity of having to be aware of your blasted brightness…" Snatcher's fingertips brushed the top of a desk as he continued on his slow path. "However shall I endure it? I suppose I – "

And then he ran into a chair, momentarily stumbling. He grumbled, kicked the chair far out of the way, and Roman allowed himself just the slightest chuckle before they both nonverbally agreed to pretend that had never happened.

" – shall simply have to suffer you, insufferable as you are." Finally, Snatcher had closed the distance, halting directly before Roman. His eyes pried open, looking up into Roman's flustered gaze. Yes, actually flustered, and he was proud of that.

"In other words…" Roman smiled softly. "I'm your problem now."

"Yes, I suppose you are." Snatcher's long, delicate-seeming fingers rose to brush against Roman's face, starting at his jawline and tracing upward until that face was cupped in his hands. "There is, of course, one mitigation. A solace in this sentence."

"Yeah? Tell me."

Roman shivered when Snatcher's voice dropped, low and husky, to whisper, "I adore you."

This was sealed with a kiss, and Roman's hands were reaching out now, clinging tightly to any body part they could reach on his partner.

Silence, then, as Snatcher guided Roman toward the blanket-nest on the floor they used for sleeping and for other things, lay him down, caressed him with feather-light touches and gentle kisses in intimate places, absolutely spoiled him to make up for all that had happened. (Though not without taking some for his own, but such was how they always worked.) And he could feel the desperate gratitude in Roman's own touch in return. The urgency behind his lips, the tightness in his hands as though he was afraid Snatcher would slip through their grasp.

Roman was, after all, a hardened troublemaker by nature. But also a sentimental and loyal creature. A beautiful duality.

(And Snatcher? Roman was thinking of it – a poet, a ruthless mutineer, a schemer, too brilliant even without an Aura, perhaps brilliant in the way that mattered because there was no Aura to fuel it. And just soft enough in the heart. Only just enough.)

At the end of it, they lay side-by-side nestled in the blankets (that could really use a wash now), and Snatcher turned to initiate their usual spooning position before Roman told him in a low murmur, "No. I play big spoon tonight. Don't make me beg for it."

"…I suppose that's only fair."

When they left this room, Roman could go back to being thorny and sardonic. Now, locked away, he could indulge in what he needed to make up for almost losing Snatcher to the clawing Apathy: the ability to cling relentlessly to him. Almost spitefully. Would that the Apathy knew how tightly Roman could embrace, to keep those he wanted from falling out of his grip. A lost cause from moment one.

One arm draped over Snatcher, taking a moment to settle, first running over his familiar curves before falling still at his midsection. The other hand's fingernails gently scraped at the spot right between Snatcher's shoulders, and if they hadn't only just finished up a round, that might be a very dangerous foreplay. Roman's face nuzzled into Snatcher's neck possessively. Reminding any would-be foes that this one was Roman's. (That this one owned Roman, also, and either one of them would be ready for murder at a moment's notice if what belonged to them was damaged.)

"Love you, sweetheart." And Roman liked actually being able to say that.

"And I you."

Then Roman's brow furrowed. "This isn't where we get boring, is it?"

"Mm?"

"Generally, right after dropping the L-word and going into commitment mode is when people just start getting so fucking boring. Look at my great start with asking for it vanilla. Are we gonna turn into that couple that gives up our life of crime so we can retire and grow organic vegetables or some shit?"

A snort. "Come now, my love, do you really think us so common? I've seen it time and time again, the men whose homes I was able to absolutely demolish with a well-cut gown and a wanton smile. Always they claimed to be devoted to those women in lipstick and rouge, and vice versa. Always you'd hear one half talking about the other as a burden, as something you'd almost think they'd wish dead. Perhaps that could've been a service I provided that'd bring me the hat much, much more quickly. Removing undesired spouses."

"Write that down. It's ABSOLUTELY not too late to make that a business venture in the new big empire."

"And that, my love, is why we shall never be two of that sort. Because you are well aware of the finer things in life. The wicked things. As you've shown me how to truly appreciate. I can't see a time I should ever become bored of you, as I know your fire won't stop burning. As for tonight, well, allowances can be made depending on circumstance. And I rather shouldn't pretend it gives a certain joy to pick up your pieces, at that…"

Roman smiled. "So what you're saying is you like it when I break."

"So long it had been the other way around, my love. Though rest assured, I shan't be the one to do the damage."

"You better be ready to put your money where your mouth is, sweetheart. Not that I intend to go on a meltdown rampage. But maybe I wanna put you through the paces. Make sure you can keep up."

"I welcome the challenge."

"Also," Roman muttered, right into Snatcher's ear, "you ever become boring, I'll know it's not actually you. One of the goddamn shapeshifters. I mean, you got this many years and lived in basically a conformist dictatorship without losing edge, so that's a test of time right there."

The hand that rested on Snatcher's front was delicately grasped by one of Snatcher's own, the fingers lacing. "Then we're in agreement. This, 'vanilla' notwithstanding, is not our end, but our regenesis."

"Murder and mayhem. This time with feeling."

"Partners in crime. Think of the deceptions we can accomplish once in synchrony."

"You're nasty."

"In more ways than one, you have assured me."

After that, a shared silence, because they just didn't need to speak for a while. It was broken when Roman's scroll jingled.

"Hang on – " Roman rolled out of the blanket nest, swiping the device from the desk where he'd left it. Reading the number on the screen. "Okay, yeah, I gotta take this, but also, you're gonna wanna hear this."

Snatcher rolled back over to face him as Roman placed the scroll in between the two of them, answering it on speakerphone. "Talk to me."

"Roman," Li'l Miss Malachite's voice said confidently. "Hope I'm not interruptin' anythin'."

"Nah, your timing is JUST perfect," Roman said mischievously. "Now, why did you call? Because you only call other people when shit goes south. Is shit going south?"

"Depends on your point of view," Malachite responded. "Roman, you know lien are a gal's best friend. The right price can buy anythin'. As can a couple of well-placed favors."

Roman sighed. "What did you say and who did you tell?"

"A li'l Huntress girl came sniffin' around like a hog for truffles," Malachite informed him. "You might know the name of one Ruby Rose. She paid, both in lien and in a service I can't leave without reciprocation. She wanted to know why the Huntspeople were disappearin' from around Mistral, an' all sorts of sordid things related to her case here in Mistral. Well, I am a woman of my word. She paid the price, so she now has the information. Namely, that you're here, an' with friends. Up to and includin' the Lion Bean."

"O…kay?" Roman replied, sharing a perplexed glance with Snatcher. "And you called me to tell me you sold me out because…?"

"'Cause we still got a kinship, bein' Mistral's lowest," Malachite told him. "An' for that, you get this much for free. She paid, so she knows you're here. But now you know what she knows gratis. An' she don't know you know. Tell me ya follow."

And Roman couldn't help but smile. "Well, well. You could've just gotten away with it."

"That ain't how we work, Roman."

And he knew that Malachite keeping her mouth shut wasn't how it worked, either. This was an immense gesture on her part. "Duly noted. So she knows about the ambush?"

"You bet your bottom dollar. An' all potentially involved parties."

"Good," Roman found himself saying. "You know, I can work with this. You're a scheming bitch, Malachite, but at the end of the day, you're all right."

"I could say the same for you. Next time, don't be a stranger to Mistral so long."

The line disconnected.

"Well, well…" Roman began.

"That certainly was enlightening information," Snatcher said with a smirk.

"And now it just comes down to who gets the jump on who," Roman stated confidently – a confidence in his, and Snatcher's, own ability to outwit.

...

The Davahl Forest was a place of bright, sunny lemon-lime greens. To most, it would've been a cheerful place simply to enter. But Harley was nervous, wringing her hands.

"What if they got in big trouble?" she asked. "What if some predator chased 'em down an'…an' ATE 'em?"
Yang couldn't stifle a laugh. "Harley. Did you seriously just ask if a predator would eat – "

"WE DUNNO WHAT THE FOOD CHAIN'S LIKE HERE!" Harley screeched. "We gotta find 'em before it's too late!"

"There are dragons around, after all," Bienfu said proudly. "Did I ever tell you about the time I slayed a dragon all by myself?"

"Let's rain-check that one, shall we?" the Spot suggested, seeing how the idea of dragons had already made Harley more tense.

As it turned out, when Bienfu wasn't allowed to make passes at the women, he actually was a very entertaining storyteller. It was quite obvious that none of his tales of derring-do were actually true, but they were at least fun to listen to.

"Besides," Locus said quite ominously. "All I have to do is find the dragon before it finds our targets."

"Pretty confident there, big boy," Magilou told him. "I like that."

The path ahead was filled with a red mist, and Velvet put up a hand; "Be careful. You don't want to touch that."

"No one tells me what to do!" Giovanni proclaimed, storming forward. "Maybe I DO wanna touch it!"

And within seconds, he was recoiling, screeching as his stamina took a decent hit.

"Now think about what that might do to someone with human durability," Velvet said flatly. "There's a way around, though. Particular plants in this forest grant immunity to the mist's effects."

She gestured to a tree with plump red fruit hanging from it. "Ingest that," she said, "and you can pass through the mist unharmed."

"I might have an alternative suggestion!" the Spot brought up. "Watch this!" He formed a portal to either side of the mist patch; "Ta-daaaa!"

"NICE!" Harley yelped, rushing through and appearing across the way, where the air was once again safe. The others began to follow, but Giovanni hung back.

"How's it taste?" he asked Velvet, looking directly at the tree she'd indicated.

"Don't ask me," Velvet replied somberly. "I lost my sense of taste when I became a daemon. I was able to regain it when I was still lost in the dream, but after becoming lucid, it peeled right away."

"Eh. I'll just find out myself." Giovanni hurried to pluck one of the red fruits before taking his own jaunt through the portal, crunching into the crimson skin. "Okay, this is – this is not how I expected it to taste. More tart than I expected. But, like, in a good way? You could make a pretty decent pie out of this, but only for the niche pie crowd. It's not a cake-type flavor."

By then, they'd all crossed the red mist, and Dr. Lopez asked enthusiastically, "You bake?"

"Hell yeah!" Giovanni confirmed. "Baking, cooking – it all increases my Epithet proficiency, since mine's food-based. It's also pretty fun. Not to mention one of the most badass hobbies around, since it involves SETTING FOOD ON FIRE! You know, a lot of people might think baking is a girlish hobby, but really, only the manliest of men can really handle putting together a proper sponge Princess Cake."

That was his mistake.

"Psshhhh," Magilou piped up. "Really? Are you saying the cauldron and all its associated elements aren't the realm of the woman? As a potion maker, I'm offended. After all, I dabble in plenty of cooking and elixir-brewing, and it's absolutely the most feminine of pursuits!"

"But Miss Magilou," Bienfu attempted, "the last time you tried to make a cake, it caught on fire!"

"Zip it, Bienfu!" Magilou hissed.

Well, now Giovanni was angry. "Uh, no. Baking is a guy thing. Or at least it's a thing that guys can do and not have to be girly to enjoy."

"But I've been brushing up on my cooking in order to be at my very girliest!" Magilou insisted. "Once I master it, I will be among the most effeminate of women!"

"And I'VE been doing it because I LIKE it and I'm a GUY!"

"Oh, poor, simple Giovanni. Not knowing that the art of food is off-limits from the males of the species. After all, she who cooks and cleans makes a perfect housewife! Which, admittedly, I'm loath to be, but all the same, I have my reasons – "

"WELL, YOU KNOW WHAT?" Giovanni rounded on Magilou, screaming. "I ALREADY CATCH WAAAAAY TOO MUCH SHIT ABOUT HOW IF I WAS GONNA LIKE 'GIRLY' THINGS, I SHOULD'VE JUST 'STAYED A GIRL,' WHICH ISN'T EVEN HOW IT WORKS, AND I'M NOT GONNA TAKE THAT CRAP FROM YOU!"

Magilou wasn't intimidated in the slightest. "Well, YOU were the one who started it by insinuating that after all my work to improve my feminine image, I MIGHT AS WELL JUST BE A GUY LIKE THEY SAID!"

They both rounded up their next arguments before realizing exactly what they'd just told each other. Slowly, in synchrony and awe, they pointed to one another; "You're…?"

"It was a tale most tragic," Magilou said dramatically. "The magnificent, miraculous Magilou hindered from the start when she was pronounced male at birth! Of course, I knew my destiny was to be a witch rather than a wizard, and the spirits I communed with agreed. Now, my parents were less than fond, so they sold me to the traveling show. Because a medium is one thing, and a girl you can pass as a hermaphrodite is another, but a medium you can pass as a hermaphrodite? That brings in the profit. Oh, the dark days of being mocked and ridiculed and thought of as disgusting!" Her tone evened out. "Then came the caravan crash. And Melchior stepped in. He agreed to raise me as a girl so as to deflect any scandal off himself, but really, the only reason he thought I was competent enough to be his successor was because to him, I technically wasn't 'the weaker sex.' And that blew." Her melodrama returned; "Such a blow to my delicate, gentle psyche! And so it was that I had to abandon ANOTHER name I didn't want from a parent who didn't get it. Magilou's actually my third, and the third time's the charm!"

"Whoa," Giovanni said softly. "That really bites. Like, I got off pretty lucky 'cause my mom was chill with it. My coming out was just kinda annoying."

"Ohhhh?" Magilou urged. "Do tell! We need a tale of levity!"

"So I'd been thinking about the whole thing for maybe a year?" Giovanni related. "And I was pretty sure I was actually a guy, but I was scared to tell anyone. So then one day, my mom's just like 'I didn't raise my daughter to be such a slob!' and the D-word just made me feel all self-conscious and then I started crying and she hugged me and she told me it was all okay and she loved me, and all in all, that part went pretty well."

"I'm missing the part where that's annoying," Yang commented.

"Well, y'know what she fucking said right after?" Giovanni growled. "That she didn't raise her SON to be such a slob! And then I had to go scrub the bathroom floor anyway!"

"You also chose your own name?" Magilou asked.

"Yeah," Giovanni affirmed. "Mom tried to suggest a few, but I told her I had to think of it on my own! And I don't think I could've gotten anything with more of a ring to it than 'Giovanni'!"

"It has stage presence!" Magilou agreed. Then she sighed heavily; "And now, I suppose, is where the seemingly infallible Magilou admits her mistake. I apologize for insinuating your hobby invalidated you."

"It's just…" Giovanni let out a growly sigh of his own. "Like, I still like a lot of things people think are girly. Like skirts. What the fuck is up with the idea that a skirt is just a girl thing? It's fabric. And it swishes dramatically and looks great when you pair it with a cape! Or the color pink! It's a FUCKING color! It's my goddamn hair color, and ohhh, noooo, apparently it's the girl color and if I'm gonna like the girl color, I shoulda just stayed a girl! BULLSHIT!"

"You tell 'em!" Magilou cheered. "It's all arbitrary anyway. To tell you the truth, I only leaned so hard into trying to force myself to actually like cooking because I thought it would…you know…improve my image as a woman through and through."

"Do you actually like it, though?" Giovanni asked.

"No," Magilou said flatly. "Making food, anyway."

"Then fuck it," Giovanni told her. "You're a woman. You don't have to be a woman who cooks. I'm sure at least one of the gals here hates cooking."

"It's me," Yang piped up.

"And for what it's worth," the Spot added, "I've always had a rather large soft spot for the color pink, and wondered as well why it is women can wear pants but men aren't supposed to wear skirts!"

"Screw gender," Harley said. "That's the new Heathen creed. Anyway, I'm real glad you two found that in common. We're all here for ya. An' if anyone tries to give you lip, Locus'll break their toes!"

"I never promised that," Locus grumbled.

"But will you break toes if people give them shit?" Yang asked.

"…Yes," Locus admitted. "Without hesitation."

"If you don't mind, Magilou, Giovanni," Laphicet broke in (by this time, they'd reached a blue mist; the Spot conjured another portal set, and because Laphicet had Giovanni's attention, Dr. Lopez snagged him one of the nearby blue fruits to taste-test). "I have a question for you, based on your experiences."

"Okay, shoot," Giovanni told him.

"Neither of you ended up identifying as the gender you were assigned at birth," Laphicet reiterated. "I have been wondering about such a phenomenon since…"

He had to tread carefully. After all, bringing up Innominat in front of a Dream Eater might lead to some very awkward questions about the nature of reality. But the fact was, he had only started wondering about this after Innominat, and he wasn't quite sure if that was because of the old godly force within him now, the fact that it bonded him to the other Laphicet who might've had this trait first, or simply something that had been dormant in him until he'd had time to think about it.

"…I communed with a spirit of my own," he decided. After all, he floated everywhere, so Magilou had already figured out he could use Artes at least. Maybe assumed he was a malak. "Is it possible to be another gender, but only halfway?"

"Like, nonbinary?" Giovanni asked.

"We know plenty a' enbies!" Harley said cheerfully.

"No," Laphicet corrected. "I always have a sense of what I might be. But there have been times when I think that what I might be should be female. And then I realize, later, that my being male does fit best."

"I mean, you're pretty young," Giovanni told him. Then wondered if that was true, given Innominat. "Right time to start trying out labels, if you ask me."

"I couldn't agree more!" Magilou added.

"But I've heard of people who don't 'settle,'" Locus broke in. "I'm not sure I understood it, myself, but I don't have to, since it's not me. Some people are female one day, male the next. That might be your case."

"Then I will give it more thought," Laphicet stated. (And quite bitter that apparently Innominat had spent so many millennia focusing on purity and suppression of will that he, an Empyrean, didn't even know the basics about gender.)

"Whatever the case," Velvet stated, "whether boy, girl, human, malak, or anything that might be greater than that, you'll always be my little sibling. After all, you've accepted that your big sister is probably the worst lesbian known to existence."

"That I have," Laphicet stated.

"Waaaiiit now," Yang brought up. "I thought I was the worst lesbian known to existence."

"I told my childhood friend that if she were a boy, I'd be in love with her." Velvet blushed. "How did no one guess? The entirety of Aball would've thrown me out."

"Oh, that kind of bad," Yang realized. "Like, horrible at staying in the closet. See, my problem was that I stayed in the closet too long. As in…I dunno, it's not that I was taught being gay was bad or anything, but I just didn't have exposure, so I kinda…sorta…ogled guys very loudly and obviously to compensate for the fact that I didn't have a certain thing figured out. And then, well, you hang out with the school heartthrob team for so long without swooning once, you start to realize that maaaaaybe guys are only attractive when you need them to be attractive to prove a point to yourself."

"Awww, sweetie." Harley matched Yang's pace, wrapping an arm around her waist; Yang gratefully rested her head on Harley's shoulder. "I'm sorry ya had ta go through all that ta figure yourself out."

"I'm good now," Yang told her. "After all, I ended up with the best girl anywhere."

A crunching sound, and Giovanni declared through a full mouth, "The blue one's super sweet. Now that's cake material."

"Wait a sec." Harley remembered some crucial details from earlier. "Gio, you're trans. That's out now."

"Yeah?" Giovanni replied.

"An' ya said you were bi, too, right? Or at least that you wanted the bi flag colors to be fireworks behind ya."

"Yeah."

"But also you mentioned you were ace once, right?"

"Yep."

"An' you're okay with datin' two or more people, or with your partner doin' that, so long as you all agree, so that's polyamorous."

"What's your point here?"

"Gio," Harley laughed, "how many dang pride flags you got in there?"

"Oh, Harley." Giovanni put his free hand on his chest. "This baby can fit so many pride flags in it."

"Well, I'm bisexual, too!" Magilou insisted. "So I have two pride flags! That's half as many as yours!"

"You mean ONLY half," Giovanni teased.

"What's a pride flag?" Bienfu whispered to Magilou.

"It sounds like some kind of badge you get for not being straight," Magilou whispered back to him. "If so, I need to be wearing mine as soon as possible, and as flamboyantly as I can manage!"

There was a snapping sound as Dr. Lopez plucked a yellow fruit from a nearby tree, handing it to Giovanni; "How about this one?"

He finished up the blue quickly, taking a bite of this new prospect. "Eh. Bland. Nothing to write home about. Kinda like dragonfruit. Anyone else SERIOUSLY bothered by how dragonfruit has the coolest name ever AND TASTES LIKE WATER IN FRUIT FORM?"

"Finally, someone else said it!" the Spot sighed. He then cast another portal set so they could traverse an acidic yellow mist.

"That's what makes it good," Locus grunted.

"YOUUUU TAKE THAT BACK!" Giovanni yelled.

Before the bonding session could deteriorate into food discourse, the sound of familiar yelping broke through the air, and Harley gasped, shrieking "BAAAABIIIIIEEEEES!" as she broke into a run.

From around a corner came bounding two black-spotted hyenas, making noises best described as hiccups of appreciation. Harley dropped to her knees before them, spreading her arms.

"LOOK OUT!" Velvet extended her claw, ready to battle, and Magilou was right beside her without even asking, several cards fanned out in her hand.

"No, no, it's okay!" Harley insisted as the two hyenas crashed into her, licking her furiously as she hugged them. "They like me! We got a bond." She ruffled Bud's mane; "Aww, I missed you too, sweeties! Guess what! I got some new pals now, an' we're gonna need some feral predators who can hunt down the people who make us mad on the days when Locus don't feel like breakin' toes!"

"I can do more than break toes," Locus grumbled. Thinking about how odd it was that he could only do so much, now. At least his combat skill hadn't decreased, but despite being allowed all of his Freelancer technology, the dream realm didn't want to seem to accommodate the Key of Chorus – perhaps the thing that would've given him the greatest fighting advantage to defend his new companions.

But he wasn't in the mood to angst over that. Better to let the others talk of happy things like gender identity and fruit flavors. And, apparently, hyena husbandry.

"Now, wait," the Spot asked. "We're not…killers."

"I mean, not to innocent people who don't deserve it," Harley told him. "But first of all, manglin' ain't off the table! Like we did to those bandits!"

"I am admittedly finding it hard to feel any sympathy for them," the Spot admitted.

"An' second, it ain't a black-an'-white case," Harley said. "I figure if anybody ticks us off real bad an' is scum to boot, a little murder's okay. Like the guy who took Yang's arm."

"Can we seriously have your pets cannibalize him?" Yang asked dryly. "Like. Seriously."

"I'm just so glad Cykes thought ta bring ya here to spite me!" Harley gushed; Lou had rolled over to ask for belly rubs, and she was indulging him. "The thought of ya with Mr. J – "

That elicited a high-pitched keening from both.

"He didn't treat ya right, did he?" Harley realized softly. "Shoulda known. Never was a pet person. Neither one a' him."

"How is she actually communicating with deadly predators?" Locus asked. "Hyenas don't domesticate."

"Well, Harley defies your notions of what's possible," Yang told him. "All I'll say."

"All right!" Harley leapt to her feet, smiling broadly. "Now that we got Bud an' Lou back on board, let's go after the last pal we got here in Midgand! And, uh…don't tell him I got more worried about the hyenas than him."

...

The compass had taken Mozenrath, Yzma, Wuya, Shocker, Mysterio, Gill, Vexen, Deymos, and a very incensed Zevon to a massive cavern dome, big enough to fit a house or two depending on architect, with tier upon tier of ridges lined with coral and dusted with algae. At the pinnacle of the roof, an aperture let light shine in from above – light filtered by the ocean surface that floated above the Realm of Monsters.

"Well, I'd say we found more than we bargained for!" Mysterio crowed once he spotted the gem's approximate location. The center of the cavern was graced by a sizeable pile of shimmering treasure: coins and furniture and artifacts, mostly gold with silver and multicolored luster among them. "Let's pack it up and move out!"

"Hold it." Shocker put out a hand, palm against Mysterio's chest.

"But why?" Mysterio asked.

That was when Deymos said "Something's off" at the exact same time Vexen stated "Something isn't right here."

"What they said." Shocker nodded. "It's too easy. Too obvious. An' what's all this human stuff doin' in a monster realm?"

"Are we really going to be looking the gift llama in the mouth here?" Yzma asked. "This could pay off our debt to Terminus and then some!"

"Depending on how much of it's being spent on sidequests," Wuya muttered. "I don't trust Roman with our wallet."

"Yeah, this stinks," Gill agreed. "This is a fish world, and that looks like human bait. This time, we're the ones with a hook being shoved in our faces."

"Then how do YOU proposalate we get the gem before Kamdor does?" Zevon seethed.

"YOU WON'T!" came a bellow from above.

The armored cyborg, soon as his name was spoken, plunged through the ceiling aperture, angled to plummet toward a coral-spangled ridge. "THAT GEM IS MINE!" Kamdor yelled as he barreled over the ridge, leaping to the next tier down, helmet turned in the direction of the treasure pile.

"NOT THIS TIME!" Zevon charged toward the hill of valuables. "THAT GEM BELONGS TO ME! ZEVON!"

"There any use, ANY at all, in askin' 'em to stop?" Shocker sighed.

"No," Yzma grunted. "No, there isn't."

Zevon latched onto the base of the pile, beginning his climb upward, as Kamdor kept leaping down nearer and nearer. Kamdor made the final jump, landing atop the gold and scattering several coins on impact, at the same time that Zevon scrambled up to the summit. Kamdor drew both blades; Zevon's staff was readied.

"THAT TELEKINETIPORTER WAS MY KILL!" Zevon seethed. "I WAS SUPPOSED TO MURDERCIDE HIM!"

"WELL, THEN I'M ALL THE MORE GLAD I PEELED THE GEM OFF HIS CORPSE!" Kamdor yelled back. "JUST LIKE I'LL TAKE THE TWO YOU HAVE OFF OF YOURS!"

"NOT IF I TAKE THE TWO YOU HAVE OFF YOUR CORPSEDAVER FIRST!"

And they would've rushed each other and probably dueled to the death if not for the sudden earthquake that seemed to impact only the treasure pile. The gold and gems shuddered, knocking both Zevon and Kamdor off balance, and suddenly both were rolling hard down the mass of wealth, landing hard in the dirt that carpeted the cavern floor.

The pile continued to rise, supported by eight pointed pillars with flexible joints at the midpoint. With a whimper, Deymos suddenly recognized the shape and realized it was not, after all, a pile of treasure; he darted to use Vexen as a shield once more. Vexen's shield was out as his eyes ran over the creature unfolding in front of him: two massive clacking claws, a bulbous and fleshy face of blues and purples, eyes on stalks giving a death glare –

Mysterio was now cowering behind Shocker, and both Yzma and Wuya were using Mozenrath as their shield. Gill just pointed up at the monster who dared to make him look like a small fry, yelling, "NO WAY!"

Once Tamatoa, the giant decorator crab had finished unfurling from his treasure-coated shell, he glowered down at Zevon and Kamdor – both of whom sat on the ground, staring at him in awe and terror – and simply said, "Rude."

"Don't tell me we have to fight that thing for the last gem!" Yzma groaned.

"Well, if nothing else, we'll be dining on crab for days," Wuya stated.

"I've just realized you're way too powerful to need to hide behind me," Mozenrath told her.

"I know," Wuya replied. "It's just fun letting you think I'm throwing you to the monster."

Deymos realized that no one's attention was on him whatsoever. Technically, he'd fulfilled the bargain and delivered. No need to stick around here anyway. He began to quietly back off so he could make his escape without detection.

"I mean, really!" Tamatoa went on. "I'm just trying to mind my own business, take a nap after a successful slaughter session, and you two just come waltzing in on here and acting like my shiny things are YOUR shiny things. It's about more than just the cost, you know. These things have SENTIMENTAL value to me! Did you even consider that?"

Kamdor leapt to his feet, doing a flip in the air before landing on them. He pointed up at Tamatoa; "I DON'T CARE ABOUT YOUR SENTIMENT! I want the gem of the Corona Aurora! NOW!"

"No, I'm the one who'll have the gem!" Zevon was on his feet as well. He put out a hand, palm up. "NOW HAND IT OVER OR MY FRIENDS AND I WILL MAKE YOU INTO CRAB BISQUOTTI!"

"You know, I was okay with the mispronunciations until he forced me to conceptualize soup cookies," Yzma sighed, head in her hands.

"Oh, is that so?" Tamatoa jeered. "You're going to do to me what you did to Qilby, is that it?"

Deymos was almost out the door. But that statement gave him pause.

"I DON'T CARE HOW LARGE YOU ARE!" Kamdor yelled up at Tamatoa. "I CAN SLICE AND DICE YOU IN A SECOND, JUST LIKE I DID TO THAT TELEPORTING CLOD!"

"WE WERE THE ONES WHO FOUGHT QILBY TO SUBMITSION!" Zevon yelled. "HE JUST STOLE THE KILL AT THE LAST MINUTE! WE PUT IN THE REAL EFFORT GREASE!"

"Did someone ask for a king-sized slaying?" Mozenrath asked from the back row. "Because that stolen kill DID leave a lot anticlimactic. I won't be satisfied until we get our due."

"Maybe THIS time, we'll let KAMDOR do all the work and steal HIS victory!" Yzma suggested.

"Dramatic irony," Mysterio agreed. "I love it!"

And none of them, absolutely none, had caught that? Deymos was amazed. How had even Vexen missed it?

Well, not his problem. It just meant if he wanted to leave, he had to do it now.

"Hold on a moment!" Now it was sinking in for Vexen. "How would YOU know anything about that mage we fought?"

"Not mage, Eliatrope," Tamatoa told him. "Get it right." He lowered his massive face far too close to Vexen, his breath fogging the front of the shield. "And here they told me you were supposed to be the smart one who was obsessed with taxonomy and details and mansplaining."

"You – you DON'T COME ANY CLOSER!" Vexen yelled, backpedaling quickly.

"Oh, does this bother you?" Tamatoa jeered. "I think that means I should get in your space more."

With a tidal blast, a wall of water slammed into the crab, knocking him back and all the way up onto his hind legs, where he staggered a bit before falling back to all eight.

Deymos' boots slid in the dirt as he pulled up beside Vexen, sitar out. "You're just useless without me, aren't you?" he snapped.

"You know you could've finished pulling off that escape and spared me the humiliation," Vexen hissed back.

"Yeah, well, I – you NOTICED?"

"Did you forget who you're dealing with?"

"BOYS!" Tamatoa clicked his claw twice.

And within an instant, Vexen was the one who'd fallen, scooting back, retreating from that sound, while Deymos immediately took a stance before him, ready to play a song of doom at a moment's notice.

"I believe we were on a pending dramatic reveal here!" Tamatoa reminded them. "Can we just get it out of the bag so we can get ON with this?"

"So you're following us somehow," Mozenrath said, quite unamused. "Tracking our progress, probably so you can get to the Corona Aurora before us."

"No, I think he and Qilby were in league somehow," Yzma said. "Maybe a behind-the-back venture from the Overtakers."

"More likely he sent Qilby into the fray first to test our power level," Wuya mused.

"Now we're getting somewhere!" Tamatoa said. "And you're all really going to regret having killed him so thoroughly, because if you'd struggled a bit more, I wouldn't be calling on SO much against you as I'm about to."

"WAIT!" Mysterio realized. "The only way it adds up is if – "

"HE WAS WORKING FOR – " Vexen began to cry.

"LET ME SAY IT!" Mysterio snapped at him. Then: "YOU WERE WITH THE OVERTAKERS THE WHOLE TIME!"

First, the entrance they'd used sealed over with a gigantic boulder. Then the ceiling aperture was sealed as well with the closing of a clamshell, spreading shadow throughout the cavern. In the dark, Tamatoa's palette changed entirely, pink and blue bioluminescence highlighting his midnight-dark skin, jolts of magenta flickering up his antennae like billboard lights, the gold on his back now a pale electric blue.

"Bingo," Tamatoa said with a white-hot, toothy grin.

There sounded a booming "Ha-HAAAAAAA-ha-ha-ha-HAAAAAAA!", and riding a plume of bright lavender smoke, Ursula crested above Tamatoa's head. "So, WHAM ARMY!" She pointed accusatorily at them all. "WE MEET AGAIN!"

"I'M NOT WITH THEM!" Kamdor yelled.

"I suppose I should thank you for taking out our TRASH!" Ursula crowed. "He was getting to be such a bore!"

"THAT'S RIGHT!" Yzma yelled. "YOU SENT YOUR ABSOLUTE TRASHIEST AT US, AND WE BEAT HIM!"

"Honey, she's saying he was the worst of the group and that's all we could beat," Wuya said softly.

"ACTUALLY, KAMDOR KILLED HIM!" Yzma corrected.

"Oh, don't think I'm not impressed!" Ursula cackled. "After all, you made it this far, didn't you? Well, now I've got a little surprise for you all! Nine versus one was a little unfair, don't you think? How about I invite some GUESTS to the party!"

Six more columns of smoke erupted around Tamatoa.

"Lovely work, just lovely," Tamatoa told her. "I'm taking mental notes."

The columns dissipated, revealing the warriors Ursula had chosen.

"I'd say it's an honor," Azula stated with mock boredom, "but there's nothing honorable about picking off weaklings like you."

The Dark Ace hoisted his glowing red sword up at his shoulder; "I hope you've made your peace, because it's about to end here."

"Oh, DARLING!" Cruella de Vil raised a pistol in one hand and a skinning knife in the other, both encrusted with glittering gems. "We're about to have a grand old time! And at the end of it all, I'll be taking the scaled one's skin to make a new bag!"

"Surprise." Warp Darkmatter winked as he aimed his cannon arm. "Bet you thought you'd seen the last of me. Here's the thing: you never have."

"Well, hello, Mozenrath." Hans grinned wickedly, raising his right hand. "You know, relationships leave scars, but honestly, I'd say your parting shot left me a MUCH better person." Red magical energy crackled around the animate metal.

And the final warrior took two dramatic steps forward, pointing at the group and declaring, "You're just a bunch of nuisances anyway. And coming from me, that m – WAIT, WHAT THE HEY? DID YOU SERIOUSLY DO WHAT I THINK YOU DID? DID YOU REPLICATE ME?"

And so it was that Deymos and Demyx looked each other directly in the eye for the first time.

"Waaaaiiiit," Deymos realized. "If that's me, then…the bad timeline isn't the one where I DIED. It's where I stabbed you all in the back and went to the other side!" He began to chortle. "Now that's deceptive. I can't even be mad. I HAVE to respect that."

"YOU SHUT UP!" Demyx yelled. "WHY ARE YOU ME? WHOSE IDEA EVEN WAS THIS?"

"I'm not a replica," Deymos informed him. "I'm the real deal. And it looks like I've got a lot less of a chip on my shoulder than you, so obviously I'm in the right timeline."

Demyx's teal-blue glare fixed on Vexen, who'd finally gotten up and braced his shield for battle once more. "If this is what I think it is," he seethed between gritted teeth, "you're even sicker than I thought."

"Believe me," Vexen told him, "this wasn't my idea."

"You know, I ALMOST feel bad killing another one of you," Hans told Demyx. "Then again, this is the WHAM ARMY knockoff version, so actually, no, I don't feel bad at all."

"I'll handle…me," Demyx seethed. "YOU just kill the mad scientist who thought this was a good idea."

"IT WASN'T MY IDEA!" Vexen roared.

"STOP GIVING HIM CREDIT FOR MY TIME HEIST IDEA!" Mozenrath yelled.

"THAT WAS MY TIME HEIST IDEA!" Zevon screamed. "YOU'RE JUST PRETENDERATING IT'S YOURS TO MAKE IT LOOK LIKE YOU WERE ON BOARD ALL ALONG!"

"I'M NOT ASSOCIATED WITH ANY OF THIS!" Kamdor boomed.

"WHY ARE WE ALL YELLING?" Yzma screeched.

"Well, I would think you would be under increased stress, knowing what you're up against," Azula stated. "After all, even if Mozenrath escapes alive, we can still take the rest of you in a living state that allows us to dream up fates worse than death."

"And in the end," the Dark Ace added, "we're here for the gem. All we have to do now is make sure you don't get it."

"Well, I mean, you've still got the other four," Warp brought up, "but we can deal with that later if we need to. Not like we wouldn't love an excuse to whip you all again."

"Let's not draw out this charade any longer!" Cruella crowed.

"My stomach has been growling for the past hour, you know," Tamatoa sighed. "Cruella, I suggest you hold off skinning the fish; he looks like he's got the best flavor."

"Overtakers!" Ursula threw both hands into the air, where magic silhouettes etched in green light echoed them in a lightning flash behind her. "ATTACK!"

In a moment, the cavern was in chaos.

Tamatoa had begun by looking at Zevon and licking his lips. Zevon conjured up his sphere of magic, propelling himself off the ground like a cannonball. Tamatoa smacked the sphere right back down the exact way it had come, where it shattered on impact with the ground.

With a yelp of defeat, Zevon scurried behind a nearby tall rock, crouching with his knees up and his staff laid across his lap. There were enough other people here to handle the threat for the moment.

"Hans Westergaard!" Mozenrath flung himself at the prince. "TODAY IS THE END OF YOU!"

"I don't think so," Hans said with a smug grin as a wall of electric-blue flame went up before him, blocking Mozenrath off from him. Before Mozenrath could counter, a slim figure in dark red dropped before him.

"Today, you're mine," Azula said with a dramatic smirk. "They always say you're such an accomplished conqueror for your age. Well, move over, old-timer; it's time for the next generation to take the reins."

"YOU…DARE!" Mozenrath balled up a great sphere of energy, launching it.

Azula ducked it and twirled, coming up at Mozenrath's side to unleash a cannon of blue fire. He deflected it with a small shield of energy, then called upon a current of water to materialize and flood around Azula, hoping to douse her primary attack method. She had of course learned from the last time she'd lost so horribly to a waterbender, and immediately heated the water enough to boil, propelling herself upon the steam. In the air, she spun, turned, formed a jackknife position. One foot plummeted toward Mozenrath, kicking out a wicked stream of flame as it did so. He cut through the flames with magic of his own (though not without feeling the heat singe his skin), grasped her foot, spun and flung her. She responded by making it rain lightning upon him, forcing him to clumsily dance his way between the bolts.

Meanwhile, Wuya had gone airborne to engage Ursula, chasing her round and round the ceiling of the cavern while enveloped in a brilliant green aura. Wuya hurled two orbs of emerald fire in succession; Ursula called up a great bubble to each hand and smashed her magic to Wuya's, dousing the latter. "Is that really the best your pathetic Heylin powers can DO?" Ursula cackled, letting out another laugh as well as a cloud of smoke that circled her up before spiraling toward Wuya, threatening to engulf. Wuya zigzagged to dodge the smog, lobbing more magic at Ursula only to have the smog form up patches in the projectiles' paths and absorb them. She took a daring risk, propelling herself through the thick of it like a torpedo, and the disorientation she felt coming out the other side meant what could've been a deadly strike ended up spiraling out into open water, where she was open game for Ursula to strike her in the back with lightning. This incensed Wuya into conjuring a hundred daggers, spinning and launching them only to watch Ursula turn tentacle and run. The knives gave chase, honing in on the sea witch, until Ursula lobbed a small vial for the first one to pierce, and all were disintegrated in a flash of light.

Yzma was exerting her best acrobatics to avoid the bullets Cruella fired rapidly. It didn't seem possible to Cruella that an elderly woman could dodge literal gunfire just by doing backflips, the splits, and arabesques that quickly, and yet here they were. "STAY STILL, YOU WRETCHED, WRETCHED WOMAN!" Cruella shrieked.

"And see, you couldn't do this because your fashion statement is more about form than function," Yzma stated. "Sure, I'm wearing a skirt that isn't wonderful toward my mobility, but you're wearing the same cut of skirt AND a heavyweight fur coat. I mean, really?" She withdrew her atlatl, letting a dart fly.

Cruella managed to shoot the dart out of the air, splintering it into metal shrapnel. She then came rushing at Yzma with the skinning knife, plunging the gut hook toward Yzma's face, only for Yzma to give a yelp and catch the blade on the staff of the atlatl.

"Apparently, the honor of fileting the fish will go to me," the Dark Ace said with a leer, advancing on Gill with sword held high.

"Oh, a sword!" Gill mocked. "That's sure gonna be enough to gut me, all right. It's not like my entire body is mutated to be ten times as competent as a human's."

At which point he leapt right onto the Dark Ace, tackling him, scratching sharply across his face with claws that left behind a trail of non-mutagenic slime. Then Gill leapt before the blade could swing at him, springing on froggy legs across the cavern.

"I'LL MAKE YOU PAY FOR THAT!" The Dark Ace held his blade aloft, charging. "I'M THROUGH WITH WHELPS LIKE YOU MAKING A FOOL OUT OF ME!"

Gill just casually tossed a slime patch in front of the Dark Ace; the warrior slipped, skidding and flailing before landing on his backside.

"Aw, but it's so easy!" Gill laughed. Then flinched with a "WAH!" as he just barely dodged the Dark Ace's blade being literally thrown at his head; once it missed, it careened behind until it embedded into the wall.

Shocker and Warp were already locked in combat, firing off beams and blasts at one another, running in a lopsided circle to avoid each other's shot. Warp took off flying, but Shocker held his ground, pulsing his gauntlets with stronger beams to repel the energy fire at him.

"Game over, wannabe," Warp said with a smirk as he plunged, drawing his cannon arm back; its barrel glowed with an intense light.

A smoke bomb rolled before Shocker, exploding into a cloud of green. Mysterio snagged Shocker by the arm, pulling him through the smokescreen with a flourish of his cape. Warp crashed right into the ground and, angrily, began firing at random.

"You got any more tricks where that came from?" Shocker panted.

"Oh, we're just getting started," Mysterio said quite mischievously. He rolled another tiny bomb in his hand; "Normally, I don't have any trouble getting an audience to cry at the tragic moments, but on the off chance they don't appreciate it, well, then it's good to have a bit of tear gas on hand to – "

"LESS MONOLOGUE MORE THROW!" Shocker ripped the tear gas bomb from Mysterio's hand and chucked it in the face of Warp, who'd taken another divebomb. The impact of the mace exploding in Warp's face caused his cannon fire to go wild; Shocker tackled Mysterio to the ground, feeling a graze on his back and a rip in his precious suit as the blast barely missed.

Hans swiped his new arm at Vexen over and over, casting bolt after bolt of lightning. "YOU THINK YOU CAN GET AWAY WITH MAKING A COPY OF MY BOYFRIEND FOR YOUR SELFISH PURPOSES?" he yelled.

As Vexen's shield merely repelled each blast, causing him to flinch with each impact, he replied, "I don't – have – any idea – what – you're – talking about! I – certainly – didn't – want – another one!"

"Don't play dumb," Hans seethed.

"Of course not," Vexen replied. "Why should I take the position that's rightfully yours?"

Hans held up his hand, index and thumb pad pressed together. "You know what I'm about to do, right?" he said with a smirk. "If I were you, I'd think about my next move before I light it up."

At which point he was clocked hard in the head by the flat of the shield.

"THEN YOU SHOULD'VE JUST SNAPPED INSTEAD OF PAUSING TO DELIVER A THREAT!" Vexen growled, stamping on Hans' right wrist.

In the midst of the battlefield, two immense walls of water collided in equal measure, repelling one another. This was followed by two streams of bubbles; the sitar that had spawned each was now spinning to destroy the other.

"I think this is the ACTUAL angriest I've ever been in my life!" Demyx cried. "They couldn't beat me, so the next best thing was to COPY me? Now I have to look at one of my own face knowing it's with THEM!"

"Dude, you really need to chill," Deymos said. "How are you me and also this angry?"

"You know they're just gonna treat you like dirt in the end," Demyx seethed. "You'll never belong. But they won't throw you out, either. And your only option will be – well, you're me, so you can fill in what my imagination might be thinking."

"Well, guess what?" Deymos retorted. "They don't WANT me. I'm an independent contractor. Can you say that about YOUR boss, or did she actually trick you into doing her dirty work by being the greener grass on the other side?"

"Oh, so you're alone. Because that's soooooo much better!"

"Hey, that's what we WANTED to start this off, isn't it? Or are you just mad 'cause…y'know." Deymos gave the wickedest of toothy grins. "I finally got him to pay attention to me where you OBVIOUSLY failed?"

A shockwave of water exploded from Demyx; Deymos barely managed to leap over it. "I TRADED UP!" Demyx snarled. "SO I FAILED TO GET HIS ATTENTION. ALL THAT EVER WOULD'VE BEEN WAS A MERIT BADGE! IF YOU'D WAKE UP FROM THAT SPELL THEY HAVE ON YOU, YOU'D SEE YOU DESERVE BETTER! OR YOU WOULD IF I LET YOU KEEP EXISTING! GUESS THAT LEAVES THE ONLY HANS ALL TO ME!"

"Eh, he's a looker, all right," Deymos said. "Pretty decent consolation prize. I don't bl – "

"CON-SO-LA-TION PRIZE?" This followed by a sharper shockwave that actually threw Deymos off his feet.

"Okay, never mind," Deymos choked, spitting out water. "THAT reaction means you actually did move on. And you've got it baaaaad for Mr. Sideburns." He scrambled to his feet. "Guess that just means you couldn't fight the currents of lo – "

"DON'T YOU DARE THROW SAYU LYRICS IN MY FACE! YOU'RE NOT THE ONE WHO HAS A RIGHT TO DO THAT!"

Zevon had remained behind his rock. "I'm not being cravenowardly," he muttered. "I'm just waiting for the chaos to die down before I make my grand enterance! After all, I wait long enough and Kamdor will die in the crossfire!" This thought made him inexplicably sad. "It must've been a fulfillerating rivaliery. Kamdor, I'll always rememberize that you fought with everything you had. Even if you didn't fight fair, that made besting you all the more satisfactioning. I'll miss you."

There was the distant sound of Tamatoa declaring "I never did like to bother with the canned stuff," followed by a rough scream that grew steadily louder until Kamdor bounced off the rock wall near Zevon's hiding place and landed facedown in the dirt before him.

"YOU'RE ALIVE!" Zevon cried. "WOOHOO! …Not that I'm happy about that. OR that I didn't know that!"

Kamdor pried himself up off the ground. "If Miratrix had lived up to her full potential and been here with me right now, this would be OVER already!"

"Am I supposed to know who that is?" Zevon asked.

Kamdor pointed accusingly to Zevon; "THANKS TO YOU, I'M GOING TO LOSE THE LAST GEM!"

"Thanks to ME?" Zevon scoffed. "As much as I would adorablate to take the credit, in case you didn't notice, I'VE BEEN HIDING BEHIND A ROCK FOR THIS ENTIRE FIASCOBACLE! It's that gigantinormous crab that's in BOTH of our way!"

"Well?" Kamdor urged. "Are you going to throw blame, or do you have anything you can DO about it?"

Zevon fidgeted before holding up a flask; "I've been contemplationing how to deplatch this for the past…however long it's been. It's a shrinking solutionable that will downsize the illuminous crab. There's only one problem." He pressed the flask close to his chest so Kamdor couldn't swipe at it. "THERE'S A MADHOUSE BETWEEN ME AND IT, AND IT'S HUGENORMOUS!"

Kamdor gave a growl as though taking physical pain before admitting, "I can do something to clear the way, but ONLY if you can finish this! AND if you can find where the gem is hidden on that whole pile of priceless garbage!"

Zevon held up another flask; "Gem detectivation potion. Temporarily gives you the crystal-detecting abilitifies of a unicorn."

"THEN USE IT NOW!"

"DON'T YOU YELL AT ME!" Zevon uncorked the flask, downing the whole thing. A shimmer came over him before he stated, quite confidently, "It's in a cooking pot two degrees off center of the shell, between a chest full of rings and a gold bidet!"

"WHY DOES HE HAVE A GOLD BIDET?"

"WHAT MAKES YOU THINK I HAVE ANY IDEA?"

"Never mind!" Kamdor swatted the air as if that would physically remove the tangent from the conversation. "That's all I need to go on anyway!"

He darted out from behind the rock, striking a pose with hands outward and feet in a strong stance. "BATTLE THIS!" he challenged.

Tamatoa felt a rustling on his back; he turned to see the source of the commotion. Many, many of the treasures he'd accumulated over the years were transmuting into humanoid shapes: gold-armored warriors with a variety of intricate weapons.

"Uh-oh," Tamatoa remarked. "I suppose that's not good, is it?"

The golden warriors that Kamdor had created out of Tamatoa's treasures leapt down off the shell that had birthed them, splitting into two factions. One horde went to fend off the Overtakers in league with Tamatoa, striking blows that put the WHAM ARMY at an advantage. The other horde launched an all-out attack on Tamatoa himself, forcing the crab to waste all his time swiping at and crushing them.

"NOW GO!" Kamdor yelled, and Zevon hurtled into the fray, throwing the shrinking solution into the air. Its trajectory arc wasn't at all close to Tamatoa's gleaming-white teeth, so, hoping his current inventory could work for more than just resurrection, destruction, and magic hamster balls, Zevon fired a blast from his staff, letting the flask ride it on a reverse trajectory beam to Tamatoa's mouth.

One of the warriors had splashed foul water into Tamatoa's eyes, and the crab stumbled, muttering, "If I'd've known someone would be transforming my treasures into warriors, I never would've picked up a bidet!". And while his sight was temporarily impaired, Zevon's flask blasted right into his mouth, hitting the back of his throat so hard he couldn't help but swallow it.

"What was that just now?" Tamatoa asked. "That is NEVER good, when someone throws a mystery potion at you, and I should know – "

Then, all at once, he was seemingly gone, his treasures spilling to the ground in a clatter. Those that weren't currently part of the anti-Overtaker force, anyway.

Zevon knew exactly where the gem was thanks to his detection potion. Kamdor knew where it was because he'd had to avoid transforming that particular pot in order to make his army. They hurtled into the field of fallen gold together, making a dive for the pot that contained the gem, a pot with a handle on either side.

Zevon grasped one handle. Kamdor took the other. And they rose in a tug-of-war, Zevon tapping his arm with his staff to bolster its strength.

"IT'S…MINE!" Zevon yelled.

"NO…IT'S…MINE!" Kamdor countered.

Zevon shrieked as he felt a sharp pinch on his ankle. It wasn't enough to get him to let go of the pot handle, but he did do a little dance of pain, looking down to see the culprit: a very tiny blue-and-purple decorator crab, luminescent with pinks and more blues in the dark, claws snapping.

"It's actually MINE," Tamatoa argued. He was now the size of an ordinary decorator, scuttling across the floor and making sure to stay out from underfoot. "I had it already, I'd prepared a whole musical number about it, you wouldn't let me get there – "

"SHUT UP!" Kamdor kicked him into the sky.

Ursula caught the small Tamatoa in one hand before the crab could smack the ceiling. "Oh, poor little precious," she cooed. "Feeling a little cut down to size, are we?"

"This is demeaning," Tamatoa hissed.

Ursula then ducked the next fire from Wuya and the slashes of the weapons of two of the airborne gold soldiers, realizing the situation had gotten out of her control. "OVERTAKERS RETREAT!" she yelled.

Zevon then realized he at least had the luxury of getting away from the people trying to kill him and his friends. "WHAM ARMY AND KAMDOR! RETREATIFY!"

Two Corridors opened. The members of each respective faction filed into a separate getaway.

"THIS ISN'T OVER!" the Overtakers' Demyx yelled. "YOU JUST WENT AND CROSSED A LINE! YOU HEAR ME?"

"Dem, honey…" Hans pulled him along into the portal. "I get the feeling you need to vent. Let's go vent."

"He's just jealous 'cause I'm the prettier me," Deymos said smugly as he strode into his own escape.

Zevon and Kamdor were the last to exit the field, each clinging on tightly to his handle of the pot and refusing to let go.

...

The hike to the final lost Heathen on the continent of Midgand was up a ways, toward a heavy wooden gate that barred the way to a town nestled in the mountain. "This is Stonebury," Velvet explained.

"Yes, yes, we knew that," Magilou sighed.

"Not all of us knew that," Locus argued.

Magilou waved dismissively; "Details."

"I've had a lot of adventures around here!" Bienfu declared. "Why, one time, I saved this entire town from a horrible daemon, all on my own!"

Velvet's attention was then drawn by a small table set out front of the gates, manned by two children: a girl with deep purple hair and a boy with brown. "Huh," Velvet remarked. "That's new."

"It looks like a lemonade stand," Yang observed. "Kinda hope it is a lemonade stand. I'm thirsty, and not just for Harley."

Harley nudged Yang in response.

"It is well-known among the most skilled of criminals," Giovanni waxed, "that when you come across children selling lemonade, you always spare some of your hard-stolen profit to buy a cup, even if it tastes horrible. Because they're trying to start up an enterprise, and you wouldn't wanna make a couple of kids cry by not supporting them, would you? HUH? WOULD YOU, BEN?"

"He ain't here," Harley reminded him.

"I have to disagree with Giovanni," Laphicet said flatly. "The sales of children will never survive in an adult economy, especially without some sort of backing or sponsorship. The more affluent will simply swallow the poor, and a child's play-venture is nothing in the eyes of those with power. To purchase a child's smile is a waste, and less than a film in the bucket of the hardships of this world."

"Okay, Innominat's the new Ben for the duration of this trip," Giovanni declared.

When Bud and Lou broke into a run to go greet the children, resulting in the Spot and Dr. Lopez shrieking and giving chase, Harley bolted after all, screaming, "NO, BABIES! DON'T HURT THE KIDDOS! BAD HYENAS!"

"Whoa!" The little girl chuckled as Bud pulled up to a halt in front of the table and Lou started snuffling. "What weird doggies! Here, doggies!" She held up an egg with a purple shell. "Want some eggs?"

"Hey, don't give away the merchandise for free!" the little boy chided, swiping the egg away from her.

Bud and Lou keened in response.

"Here." Harley approached the stand, dreaming up a bit of money to give to the pair. "I'll take two for each, four total." As she was handed hard-boiled eggs with lavender shells, she cooed, "Ooh, fancy! How'd ya get the chickens ta lay purple ones?"

"We didn't," the girl sighed. "I was trying to get them to lay eggs with purple yolk to draw in more tourists, but it turns out no matter how many blueberries you feed them, it just doesn't work that way."

"I told her it was a bad idea," the boy jeered.

"Tourists?" Harley repeated.

"Stonebury is a pioneer town," Velvet explained as the others caught up. "It doesn't have much role in the economy the way it is now, but its people keep trying to grow the town's potential through farming unique crops to export and draw more traffic."

"And that's all gonna change real soon 'cause of the tall guy!" the boy said excitedly.

"Tall guy?" Yang asked. "Who's the tall guy? I have a hunch that Harley here miiiiight know him."

"He showed up out of nowhere, and he was real lost!" the girl explained. "So then we explained about how Stonebury is gonna grow, and he said he knew a whole lotta ways to help that along! All of a sudden he had a whole lot of ideas, and now everyone in town is working hard to…what did he say?"

"Build a brand!" the boy filled in excitedly.

"He said that I couldn't get an ordinary chicken to lay a purple egg," the girl stated. "Even though he knew a story about a faraway land where there were green eggs served with green ham, but that comes from special chickens. What we could do was boil the eggs and paint the shells, though, and he said a lot of people would pay just for something pretty!"

"The purple's just the start," the boy said, placing a tray of eggs on the table. "Look! I've been practicing patterns! Soon, I'll be able to paint real complicated and pretty stuff you can't get anywhere else!"

The designs overlaid on the purple eggshells in various other paint colors were really elementary-school-art level, but all present knew better than to point that out. "They're beautiful already," Dr. Lopez said with a warm smile.

"Yeah!" Giovanni agreed, clamping a hand over Laphicet's mouth (at which Laphicet was not amused). "In a kidcore way, but yeah!"

Harley had finished peeling the eggs, feeding Bud and Lou a pair each. "We'll take s'more," she said with a smile. "I think each of us should try one out!"

They went in single file to each purchase an egg, picking out a pattern from those the boy had painted.

"Good luck with your little business!" the Spot said cheerily as the group passed through the wooden gates. But the moment they had left the children behind, his expression soured. "Harley, are you…quite certain the person they described was your friend?"

She felt the heat of anxiety rising. "OhlookIthinkIsee'imovertherelet'sGO!"

They passed through a bustling farming town. Velvet glanced around to take in the sights. She hadn't remembered this many people, Dream Eaters or otherwise, ever milling about the streets at the same time. They seemed to be hard at work putting together crates with a stylized bell logo painted on them, into which were loaded jam jars and wine bottles and all sorts of other products. Lids were fastened on, and the crates labeled "Lasting Bell Enterprises."

"This…isn't at all the way I remember it," Velvet realized.

"Whoever this friend of Harley's is," Magilou observed, "he didn't take long to completely turn this town upside-down. I think I have to appreciate him already."

"Somehow, I knew you would," Velvet said with a soft smile.

Magilou nudged her with an elbow; "Don't think I didn't notice."

"Notice what?"

"Your OBVIOUS interest," Magilou teased. "The little smiles only I get? The light flush to your pale cheeks? The sentiment in your voice when you speak my name?"

Velvet turned away, that smile fading. "I don't know what you're talking about."

It was her dream, and she should've just been able to strike up the relationships she wanted, but the fact that this wasn't even the real Magilou, and the real Magilou was probably dead, felt hollow. Like a mockery.

"Well, if you change your mind, Miss Disaster Lesbian," Magilou teased, "you know where I'll be." After a pause, she said, "Though I have to know if it's about me – especially given what we talked about back in the forest – or if it's something more personal."

"Wha – no, it's nothing to do with you or that!" Velvet gasped. "It's all about me. I'm…I'm not sure I should be moving on from the past this way, is all."

"I see," Magilou replied. "If you want my advice on the matter, and this is me speaking from experience, the best way to move on from the past is to burn it."

"But what if…what if that's a disgrace to the people I promised to remember?"

"Disgrace, schmisgrace," Magilou said. "You go around thinking like that, and your heart's just going to crack into too many little pieces. Believe me…I know that more than anyone."

Velvet swallowed hard. "I…I do want to be a friend to you, at least."

"If you're expecting me to bawl about my problems, it's not gonna happen," Magilou informed her.

"Of course not," Velvet replied. "That's the kind of person you are. It's…part of what makes me look at you that way. But even so, being alone never fixes anything. It only makes wounds sting harder."

"I'm not al – "

"And don't try and tell me Bienfu is a sympathetic companion."

After another pause, Magilou muttered, "Thank you." Then, louder: "Don't expect me to say those words in that order again! Also, I don't know what you've been through. Obviously a lot, if you're dressed like that. Don't get me wrong; I like that you left the rips and tears in. Gives people a distinct image. But you're no show-woman, so the fact that you haven't mended those clothes says something. That said, I don't need to know what, and I don't even know if I want to know what. I'm not good at consoling people or handing out pity. It's a good thing we just decided to screw gender roles, or I might feel more self-conscious about that. Long story short, I can't comfort. But I can also be a friend to you so you don't have to be alone, either. And I know endless distractions."

"Thank you, Magilou," Velvet said sincerely. "One day…I'll tell you what made me the way I am."

"And on that day, I will demand ALL the sordid details!"

The majority of people in the town were crowded around a particular circular arena in the road, where a crude wooden booth with "MARKETING CONSULTATION" painted on it in green calligraphy had been erected. A voice Harley knew well was sounding from behind it; "Okay, people, one at a time! First of all, you, no, we can't have a second mascot. The point of a mascot is that there's one. That's it. I'm also going to veto the first mascot being the dragon that attacked the capital last month right now. Can't we pick something that's annoying at worst? You guys have a forest guardian? We'll come back to that. Second! You! You are ABSOLUTELY right; we need a song to sell goods with! We call that a 'jingle' in the industry. Not sure I want you to write it, though. Trust me, I'm the maestro of jingles. I'll come up with something catchy. Something that WORKS. People, people, stick with me and I'm gonna have you rolling in the dough!"

"Harley," the Spot said rather sourly, "your friend seems quite preoccupied with moneymaking."

"Heheheheh…" Harley chuckled nervously. "Did I forget ta mention he's a sales guy? Oops! Guess I forgot!"

The Spot sighed. "I know you did that because you want to be friends, so I'll hear him out. But I don't want to end up finding out that he's the sort who'll throw other people underfoot to get a couple of paces ahead! People like me and Sylvia!"

"He'll be good, I promise!" Harley swore. "He's a good guy, really! Marketing's his thing, but he ain't gonna let all the profit go to his head – "

"And with that, I am on my thirty! Nobody interrupt me while I'm on break; we are NOT doing business lunch today!" As the Once-ler left the booth and strode into view of the Heathens, all could see that he was dressed in a long and sparkling green jacket, a towering top hat, and all manner of glittering accessories, including a new pair of sunglasses that he'd decided to dream green rhinestones into the frames of.

"Hoooooo boy," Harley muttered.

"Harleyyyyy!" The Once-ler quickened his step, throwing an arm around her shoulders to sweep her along. "For you, I'll make an exception. Food's on me. Got the reservation all booked. Walk this way." His speech was growing faster and faster as he ushered Harley away from the road, behind one of the farmhouses.

"Onceyyyy," Harley said with mounting suspicion, "what's this all about?"

"Business," the Once-ler huffed. "That's it. That's all. It's all good! I just wanted to discuss some of the finer points with you."

The other Heathens followed the pair to the yard out back of the house, and once they were all out of sight, the Once-ler collapsed to his knees and threw his arms around Harley, pressing his head into her stomach. "Thank GOODNESS you're here. I have, to put it bluntly, MESSED UP. I'm in the shark tank and they're smelling the blood in the water and I'm about to be EATEN ALIVE!"

"Uhhh…seriously?" Harley asked, placing a couple of sympathetic pats to the back of his head. "Everybody here seems to love ya. An' you got a good thing goin' with all this business."

"Yes. Well." The Once-ler stood, brushing off his jacket. "What I have is a lot of crates, logos, and catchy jingle ideas. Under which is a foundation of wine that hasn't been brewed to perfection yet, potatoes I thought I could spin except it turns out they're HALF POISON, and way. WAY too much jam! We can't thrive on jam alone!"

"Well, it seems to me you wouldn't be in this mess if you hadn't gotten greedy," the Spot broke in.

"This is what I do, okay?" the Once-ler argued. "This is what I'm GOOD at. And these people, look at this town, they NEEDED my help, okay? They're trying to bigger their business, except nobody was doing anything about it! Well, except really slow fermenting and potato breeding, WHICH I SEE NOW WAS SLOW FOR A REASON – "

"How do you have potatoes that are half poison?" Yang asked.

"The skin is poison," the Once-ler explained. "So I'm like, okay, cool, we'll just peel it and sell what's underneath. They argued nay, I argued yea, and they gave in." He held his thumb and index finger an inch apart. "It's THIS THICK! THERE IS THIS MUCH POISON SKIN ON EVERY SINGLE POTATO! I'm dead. Corpse in the water. Sharks closing in! I see the fins, duh-nuh, duh-nuhhhh!"

"Calm down, calm down!" Harley urged him.

"Don't make me punch sense into you," Locus said.

"Wait." The Once-ler pointed a finger to count how many people were with Harley. "Okay, you have brought way more people I don't know than I thought. You, uh, you don't have anyone I DO know with you, do you? Not that I'm looking for anyone in particular – "

"These're my new pals!" Harley spread out her arms. "Yang's my girlfriend – "

"Nice, nice!" The Once-ler nodded.

"Then Giovanni's another leader of the pack," Harley went on, "Velvet's our guide to this new world, an' we picked up the other friends on the way – Laphicet, Dr. Lopez, Dr. Ohn, Locus, Magilou, Bienfu, Bud, an' Lou!"

"WHOA those are real hyenas!" the Once-ler realized.

"I got 'em under control," Harley assured.

"Well," the Once-ler said as he looked over the group, "it's a pleasure doing business with you all, but Harley, I need to know where – "

"It's always got to be BUSINESS, hasn't it?" The Spot folded his arms. "Every person's got a price tag with chaps like you! I'm not here to stand for it!"

The Once-ler blinked in surprise at him. "O…kaaaaaay…"

"Jon's got some, ah, issues with capitalism," Harley explained. "Bad boss fired 'im. Second bad boss exploited 'im and his gal."

"I mean, that's no reason to hate an entire economy," the Once-ler said without thinking. "Money does make the world go around – "

"Oh, you are just HOPELESS!" The Spot turned away, throwing his hands into the air.

"Oncey," Harley sighed, "why're you like this? Why ya gotta make an enemy outta everybody ya run into?"

"Like, seriously," Giovanni mused. "I got the impression that you'd be one of those guys who everyone would really like at first sight for no reason and get all obsessed over."

Yang lightly punched him, whispering, "I have no sense for this anymore. He cute?"

"He. Is. VERY cute," Giovanni whispered back. "But, like, almost too cute, where you look at him and think, somethin's wrong with that guy."

"I think that's just what happens when you think somebody's really, really pretty and then they aren't interested in you," Yang whispered.

"LEAVE ROKUROU OUT OF THIS!" Giovanni screeched at full volume.

"I mean…" Harley was having her own conversation with the Once-ler. "First ya can't get along with Ainsley – "

"AINSLEY?" the Once-ler repeated, looking around frantically. "Where? They're here? You brought them? Not that I was – where are they, exactly?"

Harley did a double take. "That…wasn't what I was expectin' from ya."

"We got separated in that vortex thing that I assume you're going to explain to me at some point," the Once-ler related, still looking frantically around, "aaaaaaand they're not actually here, are they?"
"Can we focus?" Harley asked.

"Okay, fine," the Once-ler sighed. "I made your friend mad because I like money. WHICH PRETTY MUCH EVERY HUMAN BEING DOES."

The Spot had been standing off to the side, pretending to ignore the group when he was very obviously listening. "Well, it's not EVERYTHING!" he argued as he whirled around. "Do you have any idea how many lives have been disrupted in the pursuit of profit? How many people? Ecosystems!"

The Once-ler broke at that. He removed his sunglasses in order to dab at his eyes. "No. You're right. Why don't I learn? Today, Lasting Bell Enterprises. Tomorrow? I'm gonna be rolling out the Super-Axe-Hackers, THE WHOLE MOUNTAIN'S GOING DOWN – "

"CAN YA NOT WORST-CASE IT?" Harley shrieked.

"Well, he's not exaggerating what very well might happen if a person isn't CAREFUL!" the Spot argued. "After all, one misplaced portal can destroy an entire – "

"YOU AIN'T HELPIN'!" Harley pointed at him. "ALSO, YOU STILL GOT PERSONAL ISSUES WE OBVIOUSLY GOTTA WORK THROUGH LATER THAT AIN'T RELATED TA THIS!"

"This is our life now," Velvet told Locus.

"I'm soberly aware," Locus replied.

The Once-ler was now sitting with his back to the farmhouse, trying to stem his tears, and Harley sat beside him, placing a hand on his shoulder. "Hey," she told him. "It's gonna be okay. We were workin' on acceptin' that you ain't perfect, right? An' that it's okay to do bad things! So cheer up, else I'll hafta let Locus punch ya so we can actually get somewhere."

"You're right," the Once-ler choked. "I just thought this time, I could actually NOT mess up where I did last time. And your friend sees RIGHT through me like plastic wrap!"

Harley gave the Spot a venomous glare, and it was about then that the Spot realized he might have to give a little on his side of things in order to resolve the issue. He gingerly walked over, sitting down on the Once-ler's other side. "It's not money itself I dislike," he admitted. "It's the idea that those who WANT money are so willing to trample the little folk who put in the hard work and get nothing for it!"

"Like this town," the Once-ler said shakily. "Ohhhhhh my gosh I have destroyed this town. The crates'll ship, NOTHING will sell except maybe five jars of jam, this is DAYS of work wasted - "

"Y'ain't destroyed anythin' yet!" Harley told him. "Nothin's SHIPPED!"

"Nope," the Once-ler insisted. "I destroyed it."

"Hey, Locus – " Harley snapped.

"OKAY FINE WE CAN STILL FIX THIS!" The Once-ler knew exactly how hard the fist of a man in that sort of armor could hit. "But you gotta let me know how."

"Jon?" Harley looked over to the Spot. "Any ideas? Maybe ya can mitigate all the, ah, capitalism with some of your own views!"

"I mean, how much thought did you put into what you were going to sell?" the Spot asked.

"…I mean, maybe five minutes, but in my defense, this is a farming town," the Once-ler muttered. "I saw a lot of things that looked sellable. Also I'm realizing this venture may be part of my latent issues with my own rural upbringing and my attempt to connect with my family through my urban business enterprise."

"Er…that's…" The Spot attempted to find the proper words. "Well, you see, that mightn't matter now. Us Heathens, you see, we're rather like a family already. We could…erm…like you so they didn't have to?"

"You wanna mom friend or a dad friend?" Harley gestured out to the group. "Take yer pick. We got more on the pirate ship."

"Okay, we're going back to the fact that you said 'pirate ship,'" the Once-ler told her.

"Why are we even worried about quality goods anyway?" Magilou asked. "Can't we just slap a coat of glitter on everything so people will put in the money to keep the system going, and they don't find out it's underdone until later?"

"You just wanted to put glitter on poison radishbells," Velvet told her.

"Wouldn't you want to buy a radishbell that sparkled?" Magilou posed.

"I sure would!" Bienfu piped in.

The Once-ler blinked as he beheld Bienfu. Then he pointed at the Normin; "Okay, if I were AT ALL still looking for a mascot, that is primo mascot design right there. Cute, cuddly, made of basic shapes, stylish hat."

"Hey, I'm not for mass marketing!" Bienfu argued. "At least not unless I'm the one in charge of the sales of things like my own autobiography!"

"The point I'm trying to get at," the Spot said, "is it seems you've been thinking with your head. When I worked for Tony Stark, I always put my heart into every one of my projects. If you want to make a business enterprise succeed, it's got to have heart."

"Whaddaya want in your heart?" Harley asked the Once-ler.

"To go home, drink a cup of cocoa with marshmallows in it, and talk to Ainsley about my horrible day," the Once-ler grumbled.

"…Somethin' you can sell," Harley urged. "I mean, the marshmallows might be a start…ehhh…anybody here know how marshmallows are made?"

"Althea officinalis," Laphicet stated. "It doesn't grow in the mountains."

"But you can also just whip together some sugar, water, and gelatin," Magilou said with a shrug. "Easy-peasy."

"Forget the marshmallows!" the Once-ler said with a rough wave. "What I want doesn't matter here anyway! I'm eventually gonna leave, so whatever these people sell, it has to be something in THEIR hearts, and how can I go poll for that without it becoming very apparent that I made a HUGE MISTAKE?"

"I mean, you could actually just admit you made a mistake," Yang told him.

"…No," the Once-ler told her. "I'd rather just stew in regret for as many years as it takes."

"The children outside seemed to be passionate about painting their eggs," Dr. Lopez brought up. "The young boy was eager to learn painting techniques."

"Yeah, but we can't build an economy on painting eggs," the Once-ler said. Then he froze, eyes wide. "But you can build one on…painting." He rose slowly, beginning to pace. "I mean, what can have more heart put into it than artwork?" He pounded his fist into the opposite palm; "And already I've had to turn down fifteen mascot designs, twelve alternate logos, and twenty-seven jingles that weren't MARKETABLE, but they looked GOOD! And there's that guy who wants to design that fancy bell tower. He could make visual art, right?"

"I say you've got a new business model," Yang told him.

"Also waaaaay more interesting than selling farm stuff," Giovanni added derisively.

"Just one thing left ya gotta do," Harley urged.

"Nope." The Once-ler folded his arms. "Somebody else make the announcement, and then I'll take back over. We can write a big skit about a buyout – "

"Locus," Harley commanded.

And though Locus had no intent to actually pummel the Once-ler, he still knew he would get results if he clenched and drew back a fist.

The next thing anyone knew, the Once-ler was climbing atop his consultation booth, kicking down the sign and throwing it aside so he could be visible to all. "ATTENTION STONEBURY!" he called out. "ESPECIALLY ANYONE INVOLVED WITH LASTING BELL ENTERPRISES!"

All eyes turned to him.

"So I, uh…" The Once-ler scratched the back of his head nervously. "I have made SEVERAL mistakes over the past few days. If we ship what we've packed for Lasting Bell and put all our money into that…we, uh…look, I'll be honest. It's gonna sink the town. Also, and this is a repeat issue with me, on the off chance things DID take off, well, I don't know that we can restock fast enough to be profitable. The first batch of Pureland Wine apparently won't be ready for another nine and a half years, I was so wrong to push the radishbells without actually listening to what you said about them, and the jam, well, the jam's good, but we're not gonna build a trade system on jam. It's just not gonna happen; I ran the numbers."

Agitated murmuring went up.

"So first of all, we need to take all the things out of the crates and use them for the people of this town," the Once-ler continued. "Now, since I wrote the orders, I'll take all the heat. Lemme just tell our buyers in Loegres and Taliesin that this whole time, I was a scam artist, and none of you had anything to do with the promises. Keep the money. It's basically stolen at this point, but use it to make a good living for the people in this town. For all anyone has to know, I'm the one who has it all. Second…well…if you're still interested in growing this town, I have a little story for you.

"See, when I first came here, and I had no idea where I was, and let's be honest, I still don't, I'm just rolling at this point, but when I showed up, the first people I met were a pair of kids that wanted to sell purple eggs. Now, I know what kind of chicken it would take for that, and you don't have those here. So I gave them a way to be happy with their idea without it having to come true. I told them that if you hard-boiled the egg, it would still be, well, an egg, but you could paint it purple. And honestly, without me even promising it would make profit, the kids started talking about all the patterns and colors they wanted to use, and I had to remind them they were doing this to attract money and tourism.

"You guys…you've been great. All of you. I'm the bad guy in this situation; I'll own up to that. And really, if the stakes were any lower, I would be so tempted to actually go through with it. But lemme tell ya, since I started putting this into motion, all the energy that I've been feeling for the enterprise, I've felt from you coming up with designs and catchphrases and music, and there's been WAY more good stuff from that corner than the crops that will honestly need a few more years before they can ship. I'm not gonna take the wheel again on this, but I am willing to sell the trademark of 'Lasting Bell' for the reasonable price of $29.95 – "

Harley coughed ostentatiously.

"You know what?" the Once-ler amended. "The name's free. You guys earned it. Though the one change I suggest is from 'Lasting Bell Enterprises' to 'Lasting Bell Artisans.' Think it over." He sighed. "Now I'm actually gonna do lunch."

He left a confused crowd in his wake as he stood down. "I'm not gonna be the most popular person around here anymore," he sighed.

"How popular ya are don't matter, though," Harley told him. "'Cause there's always people out there who're gonna like ya for bein' you. You could be the most popular guy on the planet, to the point where it'd annoy everybody an' they'd start gettin' all ironic about it, but at the end of the day, if ya make some people smile, then you're worth keepin' around. And ya make me smile."

"I also must say I was…impressed by that," the Spot broke in. "Almost to the point where I regretted speaking up. Perhaps I was a smidgen too harsh – "

"Y'know what'd clear this whole debate right up?" Giovanni pointed out. "Gouging rich people on purpose. It says 'fuck capitalism' and ALSO gets us money."

"Yeah, I'm not a thief," the Once-ler told him. Then, very quietly, "Not a blue-collar one, anyway."

"So you'll be our token white-collar thief!" Giovanni urged. "We can have you sell fakes to the schmucks at the Abbey, and then, Iunno, if you're good at wrecking ecosystems, we could find one that NEEDS to be wrecked. You said there's some kinda attack dragon? We could starve that thing out."

"We're not touching the dragon," Velvet grunted. "We don't have time."

"Wait," the Once-ler broke in. "The majority of my orders for Lasting Bell Enterprises WERE an abbey."

"There's only one," Velvet sighed. "The Abbey that believes in suppressing free will and encouraging conformity. Telling people to sell, sell, sell their luxuries so they can give the profits to the poor…and hoarding those same luxuries for themselves."

"I suddenly feel WAY less bad about those orders," the Once-ler realized. "Yeah, I could go that direction. Terminus already has me scamming anyway, just, y'know, not poor farm towns, so why not scam the big dogs?" He laughed. "Yeah! That's an enterprise in and of itself!"

"And I think I can be on board with it, really," the Spot admitted.

"Let's get goin'," Harley said. "We still got a few places left ta check for – well, actually, we still gotta tell ya the whole story."

"Right." The Once-ler nodded. "Then we can go back and chill on this pirate ship you apparently have and I can finally check in on how Ainsley's doing."

"Uh…about that…" Harley laughed nervously. "They, uh…we still gotta find 'em. An' a buncha other people."

"…What."

"Lemme explain! See, that gal who threw ya into this world…"

...

Mozenrath had chosen a random world for the getaway from Lalotai, and wasn't entirely sure where he'd ended up, truth be told. He seemed to be in the overgrown yard of a giant abandoned factory of some sort that stood atop a hill. The fact that this supposedly abandoned building had a janitor happily sweeping away in the drive was unsettling, but not as much as the corpse with cybernetic implants leaning against the wall or the blood graffiti that spelled "MURDERER."

But none of this was really Mozenrath's concern at all, because he was too occupied by the fact that Zevon and Kamdor were still playing tug-of-war with the pot and screaming.

"WILL YOU TWO CUT THAT OUT?" he yelled.

"BUT IF HE GETS IT, THEN HE BASICALLALLY WINS!" Zevon argued.

"I'VE COME TOO FAR TO LET YOU GET THE MAJORITY!" Kamdor snapped back. "ESPECIALLY WHEN I KNOW YOU CAN'T EVEN SAY 'MAJORITY'!"

"Why?" Yzma cried to the heavens. "WHY DID IT HAVE TO COME DOWN TO THIS?"

"YOU MIGHT AS WELL GIVE ME ALL OF THE GEMS!" Zevon growled. "HAVING ONLY TWO WILL BE USELESS!"

"I COULD SAY THE SAME TO YOU!" Kamdor yelled back.

"So, like…" Deymos twirled a hand in the air. "Just teaming up and combining forces isn't an option."

"NO!" Zevon and Kamdor roared as one.

Then they paused to actually think about it.

"You mentioned some sort of kickside, once," Zevon recalled.

"A disappointing one," Kamdor grumbled.

"Would you ever want a whole army on your side?" Zevon asked. "Maybe a…WHAM ARMY?"

"DON'T RECRUIT HIM WITHOUT MY PERMISSION!" Mozenrath yelled.

Mysterio, of course, raised a hand to point to the sky, crying out, "ENEMIES-TO-TEAMMATES TROPE!"

"Don't help," Mozenrath grunted.

"Look," Shocker sighed. "It don't seem ta make sense at first, but goin' over it, it'd be the path a' least resistance. We assimilate the armored fella, an' so long as he don't go around killin' everyone in his way, he gets to share the gems an' we get a robo-ninja."

Kamdor was silent a moment, thinking this over. Then he decided, very gruffly, "I'll agree to that condition, but this had better be worth my time!"

"I NEVER SAID THIS WAS OKAY!" Mozenrath yelled.

"Oh, I do wonder how it feels for everyone to have made a decision behind your back and expected you to support it actively," Vexen said dryly.

"I hate everything," Mozenrath growled.

"Then it's settlemented!" Zevon declared. "I'll just take this last gem – "

"Oh, no, YOU'RE not taking the last gem!" Kamdor snapped. "I'LL hold onto it!"

And before either could bat an eye, Gill swiped his webbed hand into and out of the pot, clutching the Pink Emerald. "There! You guys happy now? You'll get it back when we figure out what we're doing with it!"

The pot clattered to the ground as both let go. "That works," Zevon said flatly, and Kamdor nodded.

"If there's nothin' else ta settle, we'd best be hoofin' it," Shocker suggested. "I got a growin' rip in my suit, which means no shockwaves from me if we get in a scuffle."

"Um, hello?" Deymos pointed a thumb at himself. "There's kinda one big thing to settle here!"

"You're free to go," Mozenrath told him without even looking at him. "Do whatever you want. I don't care."

"And I don't even get sent off with so much as a thank-you?" Deymos had his hands on his hips, leaning forward to egg Mozenrath on.

Vexen stepped in; "I'll handle this. A word, if I may."

He set off a few paces down the hill, and Deymos stared, momentarily flabbergasted, before walking after him.

Down the drive, they faced each other; behind them, the others got into some other pointless argument, as they were wont to do. Vexen folded his arms; "I won't lie that you did in fact provide…a service. Whether it is for the better or the worse remains to be seen."

"That's my brand," Deymos affirmed. "Though speaking of you not lying…holy crow, that was an impressive gambit. You had me going I was supposed to die in your timeline." He let out a chuckle. "Like I said. I can't not respect that."

"It was a necessary evil," Vexen huffed. "I suppose now you're going to follow in the footsteps of your counterpart."

"Eh. Sounds like he got tricked into doing actual work. I'm just gonna go with the flow. Though nooooooow it makes sense why you didn't believe I wouldn't hurt you. Apparently I already did."

"And you hadn't shown any remorse," Vexen added. "Not that any was expected from your corner."

"Did you ever ask that me what his real name was?"

A silence.

"Thought not." Deymos smiled. "It's been real, Vex. And not totally unenjoyable. If it weren't for you guys swearing up and down that I'd hate it in your WHAM ARMY, I'd seriously be considering making you take me home with you."

"Don't. For all of our sakes."

"But maybe…we could hang out again? Do lunch?"

"I don't 'hang out.'"

"Right." Deymos rolled his eyes. "What was I thinking."

"I suggest you make the most of your freedom," Vexen told him. "After all – "

"But what about you, huh? Did YOU have any fun here or am I misreading things?"

Vexen sighed. "I don't see why you'd want to know – yes. Yes, this was MARGINALLY enjoyable. And admitting that brings me great pain that is almost physical."

Deymos grinned. "All I ask."

"And now I will return to my intellectual kindred," Vexen declared. "Who, much like you, will bombard me with saccharine popular music until I am forced to make peace with it. I do wonder what boy band Drakken has dredged up on Remnant – "

"Whoa-ho-ho, you're into BOY BANDS now?"

"By Stockholm Syndrome. Not by choice."

"You still carry that tiny pad of paper in your pocket?" Deymos asked.

And within a moment, that item, along with the pen from its spiral, was in Vexen's hand. "You had to have known I'd never be without it. As you are hardly ever seen without prompt cards reminding you of your next line."

"Harsh, Vex. Anyway, write something down for me?"

Vexen considered. "Very well."

"Supernova Girl. The artist is Proto Zoa. That's two words – 'Proto' is one, 'Zoa' the second."

"What is this supposed to mean?"

"It's a song," Deymos told him. "I think you'll like it. It's like a one-man boy band thing, but nerdy."

"I doubt I will enjoy it at all." Vexen wrote it down anyway. "With that, is our business concluded?"

"I dunno." Deymos was smiling mischievously. "I still didn't get my thank-you."

"You're not going to go away until someone says it, are you?"

Deymos let out a chortle; "Nah, I'll let you off the hook. Sounds like I put you through the wringer enough, making you feel positive emotions."

"You certainly have."

Deymos saluted, then brushed past Vexen to finally make his way down the drive. "Later."

And there was something about this Vexen didn't like. As though they'd left a thread dangling, a point unresolved. He refused, however, to go any further down that path. Because if the answer turned out to be that he actually wanted Deymos as a friend, he wasn't sure he could live with himself. Best to let the coward just run, run away into the sunset with a digital mermaid idol song at his back.

Vexen ascended the hill to where the others awaited. "If there is no more pressing matter, I shall be returning to Remnant," he stated. "On second thought, I shall be returning no matter what argument you present for me not to."

"Just one thing before you go," Mozenrath prompted. "I caught enough of what brought you all to that world, but just to be sure…which Overtakers do we have confirmed?"

"Presumably all of Roman's old cohorts," Vexen stated. "But the primary threat on the table is of course Jafar. A genie is always the first enemy to consider disposing of."

"Agreed," Mozenrath told him. "And that's…really all I needed to know."

"Then do what you must." Vexen spun on a heel, casting a Corridor. "I won't have any further part of it."

It closed around him, and he was gone.

"Well, I've had just about enough of all of this," Yzma sighed. "Back to base!"

Wuya formed this Corridor, nodding as Yzma, Gill, Shocker, Mysterio, Zevon, and Kamdor of all people made their way through. Then she looked back at Mozenrath, who was obviously hesitating. "You coming?"

"I'll catch up," he told her. "After all, I know of only two people I can remotely stand who could ever best a genie. One of them is me, of course. But as for the other…I wonder if he can still be bought for a high enough price."

"Suit yourself." Wuya shrugged, turning toward the Corridor. "You can't stop me from pineapple-frying all your rice if you let me go back without you."

"It's Basmati. You'll hate the end product if you try that."

Wuya left, closing off the Corridor, and Mozenrath made his own way through a new one.

Down at the end of the drive, around the corner of the gates to the abandoned factory, Deymos leaned against the security fence, watching to make sure the others had all left.

"So it's a bad idea for me to just go home with you, huh?" he reiterated. "Well. Guess that means when I show back up, I better have a peace offering."