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.

153. Plants Versus Zombies

A/N: The song you need to know for this chapter is Necromancin Dancin by Bear Ghost!

...

Lady Caine used a tack to affix a WATYR Fest poster to the side of a building on the Twilight Town boardwalk. "It's nice that we can just have a girls' day," she remarked.

"Right?" Ashley – usually known as Katnappé – agreed, sticking up her own poster. "No offense, Wuya, but I was getting tired of nothing but your sadistic Heylin training sessions."

"Oh, none taken," Wuya replied, magically enlarging a poster so she could wallpaper another building with it. "I make them sadistic on purpose. Glad to know the regimen worked."

"Well, beauty knows no pain," added Scarlet Overkill, who had arranged several posters in a heart shape. "Or, in this case, supervillainy."

"So glad I don't have to do any of those training sessions," Melanie Malachite sighed, stuffing a poster in the garbage.

"Are you throwing out the posters we're supposed to be hanging?" Yzma raised a brow.

"It's so people will see it if they look in the garbage," Melanie defended. "Goddamn, get off my case. Anyway, I always feel bad for you having to hang out with that shitty ninja and the brat boys."

"Whoa, whoa!" Ashley put up a hand. "What did you just say about Tubbimura?"

"He's a shitty ninja," Melanie replied. "I thought that was obvious. Since he's…you know."

Ashley opened her mouth to respond.

Then Melanie decided she wasn't going to play courteous; "A huge ball of lard. Like, how does that even work for martial arts? There's a reason you don't see fat ninjas."

"Actually, there's a reason, all right," Wuya told her. "And you want to know what it is?"

"Because they suck and can't do their job?" Melanie droned.

"No, it's because fat ninjas are GOOD at their jobs," Wuya replied. "Which is why you never SEE them. If you see a ninja, he's not very good at being a ninja, is he?"

"You're just making that up," Melanie told her.

"Oh, really?" Wuya jabbed a thumb over her shoulder. "Then why don't you go ask him?"

Melanie leaned around her. "Okay, WHAT – "

Tubbimura was there, a ways back, hidden behind a comically thin pole that shouldn't have been able to camouflage him, and yet they'd all walked right past without anyone realizing he was there. (Except Wuya, but she knew her Heylin.) He jabbed two fingers at his eyes, then pointed toward Melanie before turning to walk away. As he made his exeunt, from behind the pole came the host of dogs he was walking – Muffin Face, Commodore Puddles, Canis, Lupus, and the very-not-a-dog Hythlodaeus – and they shouldn't have been able to be concealed by that pole either. Then, after a brief moment of Tubbimura and his charges being visible walking across the boardwalk, they went behind another pole and vanished completely.

"What," Melanie blubbered. "The. FUCK."

"Haven't you ever wondered why you barely see him around anymore?" Ashley asked. "Odds are if you can't figure out where he is, that's because he's WATCHING you, and he doesn't want to be seen.

"Don't talk smack about my fat ninja again," Wuya told her. "Because if he takes revenge, you won't even see it coming."

"Fiiiiine," Melanie sighed. "Fat ninjas are the best ninjas. You win."

"You know, I never doubted him for a second," Scarlet brought up. "Never judge a villain by their body type. They can always surprise you."

"Yeah, yeah." Lady Caine tacked up her last poster. "Can you all just hurry up so we can get down to the beach?"

The last posters were put up, and then the six ladies headed down to the beach, where Wuya magicked their usual outfits into a host of stunning bathing suits. She bore a black bikini, the sides of the bottom piece made up of nets of strings that revealed the skin around her hips. Yzma's plum-colored one-piece halter-top swimsuit lay beneath an extravagant, flowing lavender beach skirt. The hem and waistband of Melanie's white bikini were strips of sequins. Lady Caine's lacy white swimsuit was embellished with a black skull on one side of the chest. Scarlet's red bikini was made up of a halter top and shorts, with black polka dots on the latter. And then there was Ashley, whose black swimsuit bore a graphic of a cat's face with yellow eyes front and center.

The beach was at the end of a long slope; if you looked back, you would see Twilight Town rising on the hill behind. The boardwalk took up the left edge. The back of the public beach was lined with cabana tents, rentable with service. Beyond that, it was a grand expanse of sand where people ran and played, a few food vendors' carts lined up here and there.

"Ugh!" Yzma spat. "I forgot about the worst part of a public beach: the PUBLIC."
"With the worst kind of person!" Lady Caine added. "KIDS."

"Yeah, this is a bit too noisy for my scene," Ashley admitted. "I'd like the volume taken down to a gentle purrrrrrrr."

"Oh, I'd planned for this," Wuya said slyly. "Just be patient."

She threw both hands out toward the ocean waters, feeding magic into them. The waves immediately receded, the waters pulling back from the beach and swelling further out.

The cry went up immediately: "TSUNAMIIIIIIII!"

"EVACUATE! EVACUATE!"

"KIDS, RUN!"

Utter pandemonium. Every civilian who'd been using the beach that day was heading for the hill. The boardwalk was abandoned of all its proprietors and employees, with a large "CLOSED" sign hastily chained across the pier's entrance.

It so happened that further up the hill, another group was headed down to the beach for some fun.

"Holy cow!" Spike cried, gasping. "Is that what I THINK it is?"

"IT'S A TSUNAMIIIIIII!" Gluntz shrieked. "EVERYONE, STAY CALM! NOBODY PANIC! DON'T FREAK OUT, GUYS!"

"No one is panicking except YOU," Cedric pointed out.

Until Kronk and Wrong Hordak began to run circles around the group, screaming, "TIME TO PANIC! TIME TO PANIC!"

"Oh, never mind," Cedric sighed. Beside him, Narti just slumped over a little.

Ifurita held her staff aloft. "I am going to try to calm the waters!" she declared.

But there was no need. As soon as the beach was empty, Wuya reversed the spell, and the waters calmly flowed back into place like usual. No tsunami in sight.

"All to ourselves!" Yzma crowed. "Perfect!"

"Let's get our fucking suntan on," Melanie declared.

Up the hill, the Heathens all wiped their brows simultaneously. (Except Kova, who'd come as Narti's service companion. He did not wipe his brow because he was a cat.)

"I am glad that worked out!" Ifurita lowered her staff. "After all, I don't have much practice stopping tsunamis. There was about half a chance that spell could've just destroyed part of town!"

"NOW you tell us this?" Cedric's jaw dropped.

"Hey, look!" Gluntz pointed to the row of beach chairs that was brought out front and center of the beach. "There's still people down there!"

"Well, they can't be having much fun," Kronk remarked. "Since the boardwalk is evacuated and all…"

"Oh, if only there were someone about who could fill in as staff of the boardwalk!" Wrong Hordak lamented.

"Hey!" Gluntz realized. "WE could do that!"

"And if we did," Spike realized with a gasp, "then we could take all the tips and salary the employees would usually get, even though WE'RE NOT LICENSED TO RUN ANY OF THOSE BUSINESSES!"

Narti nodded approval. A perfect moneymaking scheme.

"Then what are we waiting for?" Ifurita asked. "Let's go!"

As they raced down to the boardwalk, Kronk looked to the line of beach chairs. "Ha! From this distance, that purple one kinda looks like Yzma. What a coincidence that she's got a doppelgänger here!"

And he gave it no more thought, focusing instead on racing to the small restaurant on the pier.

After Yzma, Wuya, Scarlet, Lady Caine, Ashley, and Melanie had been sitting out on their chairs for a while, Wuya suddenly realized, "Yzma, you hate the sun. Why are we sunbathing?"

"Why do you think I picked THIS beach in particular?" Yzma retorted. "Thanks to this town's perpetual sunset, there are so many fewer rays to age my skin."

"Wait," Melanie realized. "It's not very hot out."

"We aren't getting much sun at all, are we?" Ashley figured out.

"That kinda defeats the entire point of tanning," Lady Caine groaned.

"I mean, I'm still having fun," Scarlet pointed out. "The waves sound soothing. If I'm not careful, I could fall asleep here…"

"Yeah, I'm not sitting out here under no sun," Melanie resolved.

"Me either." Lady Caine stood up. "I'm going up to the Boardwalk to see what I can loot from the souvenir shop before the staff gets back. Anyone with me?"

"Oh, I'll go!" Scarlet leapt up.

"Sounds like a clawesome time!" Ashley added, joining along.

Melanie had already followed; Wuya and Yzma exchanged glances. "No one appreciates what I do around here, do they?" Yzma asked.

"I do," Wuya told her. "At the same time, they have a point. They might've abandoned some cute clothes."

"All right," Yzma relented, "you convinced me."

They trod the boardwalk, heading down to the small beach shop. Inside were racks of swimwear and towels, along with shelves of nautical keepsakes.

And also a person behind the counter.

"AH!" Yzma flinched. "Why didn't you evacuate? Didn't you see there was…almost a tsunami?"

Narti's face was turned blankly toward the group.

"I don't think she can SEE anything," Ashley pointed out.

"Then, like…what is she doing running a store?" Melanie sighed.

Narti put a hand on the counter and launched herself over it in a display of great agility, landing before the six women on the sales floor. She tilted her head.

Wuya felt it: tendrils reaching toward her mind. "Hang on," she said, putting up a hand. "I think we have a telepath on our hands."

I'm not regular staff, Narti told her.

Wuya took two steps forward and seized Narti's hand in her own. I'm not a regular customer, she replied.

I figured, Narti thought. That natural disaster didn't look so natural.

What, Wuya asked, are you going to report me to the police?

No, Narti said, because I don't want them on my trail either.

Wait. Are you evil?

In a way. You seem very evil. I don't mind, but I'm also not going to let you steal from this shop. Not until I get an employee's pay.

Oh, so you used the evacuation as an opportunity. Brilliant. You know, you'd make a great Heylin –

"You realize all we see is you two staring at each other, right?" Lady Caine interrupted.

Wuya exchanged a few more words with Narti, then turned back to the group. "She's one of us. Sort of. Not so big on the causing-natural-disasters thing, but when we had it all evacuated, she jumped right in to cash in on the lack of staff."

"Now that's just devious," Yzma remarked.

"I actually have to admire that," Lady Caine admitted. "I say we pay up. It's a great ploy, so we should reward it."

"It's never a bad idea to support local small evil businesses," Wuya added.

Ashley gasped, having sighted Kova sitting atop a swimsuit rack. "Your cat is DARLING!" she cried, rushing over to stroke Kova's head.

"Careful," Wuya warned. "That's her service cat. Her eyes and ears."

Kova, glad to see such affection being shown, had leapt down to the floor and stretched out, belly up. Ashley rubbed his stomach as she cooed to him.

Narti, treated to an upside-down view of the ceiling, buried her head in her hands.

The six beachgoers sifted through the fare, and after finding some trendy items, they lined up outside the fitting rooms.

"How's this look?" Lady Caine asked as she emerged, wearing a black lace cover-up.

Narti didn't react.

"Oh, right," Lady Caine realized.

Kova hopped up on the counter beside Narti, letting her get a good look at Lady Caine's new wardrobe. Then Narti shook her head.

"What do you know, anyway?" Lady Caine spat as she trudged back to the fitting room. "You're BLIND."

"How about this?" Ashley walked out wearing a fluffy pink cover-up that featured a hood with cat ears.

Narti gave that one a thumbs-up.

"VOILA!" Yzma burst out wearing a beach dress with far, far too many ruffles.

Narti's hand tilted so the thumb pointed straight down.

"Everyone's a critic," Yzma muttered.

After they'd picked up a few items that had met Narti's approval, the six paid for their items and then moved on. "She has friends running the rest of the boardwalk," Wuya noted, "in case we wanted to do anything else."

"I saw some carnival-game booths when we were up here earlier!" Scarlet gushed, dancing in place. "We should see if anyone's running those!"

"You're a child," Melanie told her.

"And you are killing my shine," Scarlet scolded. "Now let's GO!"

As a matter of fact, the booth where people would normally throw balls to knock over stacks of bottles was being manned by Cedric and Gluntz.

"I always knew this stuff was rigged," Gluntz remarked as she noted the magnets that held the bottles in their pyramid.

"Indeed so," Cedric agreed. "You know what that means we've got to do, then – don't you?"

Gluntz gasped; "Ohhhh, I SO do!"

So when Wuya, Yzma, and company came along, Cedric and Gluntz were waiting for them, all smiles in front of several stacks of bottles. "Why, helloooooo!" Cedric greeted. "Care to try your hand at a lovely game?"

"That is EXACTLY what I came here for!" Scarlet said excitedly.

"Well, nothing comes for free, you know!" Cedric winked. "Ten munny for a round."

Scarlet put it down. "Okay. Gimme a shot!"

Cedric handed her a dense rubber ball, then gestured to one of the pyramids on his half of the booth. "Take your best shot!"

Scarlet wound up, then pitched. The ball hit dead center, and pinged off a solid wall of bottles, ricocheting right back out front and whacking Yzma's forehead.

"Ohhhh, wait," Gluntz realized. "You meant stick the bottles together WORSE so the game was unwinnable. Okay. I see now."

"Why?" Cedric asked. "What did YOU do?"

"Here." Wuya set down ten munny. "Let me try."

Then she unleashed a blazing plasma bolt that obliterated the bottle stack – and vibrated the booth so hard that all the pyramids on Gluntz's side toppled like dominoes.

"I made it easier," Gluntz said.

"That's not very criminal of you," Cedric pointed out.

"Un-rigging a game that's SUPPOSED to be rigged?" Gluntz retorted. "I'd say that's flagrantly against the rules!"

"I – er – " Cedric wondered if he could even argue with that.

"Oh, me-owch," Ashley remarked. "But since we knocked down all those bottles, isn't it only fair that we get extra prizes?"

"YES!" Gluntz screeched.

"I suppose," Cedric sighed.

They passed over several plush dolphins in various colors. Scarlet clung to a red one very protectively.

"I'm bored," Melanie remarked. "Let's hit the bar."

As they stalked off, Gluntz waved frenetically; "GOODBYE! COME PLAY AGAIN!"

"I'm glad we were at least on the same page about one thing," Cedric muttered, retrieving one last plush from behind the counter. "And that was not to give them the narwhal."

"Oh, no way," Gluntz agreed. "Narwhals are the best."

"They're rather like little, non-magical sea unicorns…" Cedric remarked with a smile.

The bar was dark, filled with cool shade as fans spun lazily overhead. Behind the bar itself, Ifurita gave her guests a wide smile; "What can I get you to drink?"

"Oh, FINALLY." Melanie let out a sigh. "Miltia really likes mixology, but I am soooooo sick of making cocktails at Junior's and my aunt's. For once, I can order a drink and somebody else will make it for me."

They all took their seats. "Hit me with an Atlas 75," Melanie demanded.

"I don't know how to make that!" Ifurita said with a pleasant smile.

"Okay, then a spritz," Melanie amended.

"I don't know how to make that either!" Ifurita replied.

"What do you fucking know how to make?" Melanie asked.

"Oh, nothing," Ifurita told her. "I'm just here to pick up the tips."

"Well, good thing we have someone here who can tell you how to make those drinks, then," Wuya said with a grin. "Isn't that right, Melanie?"

"Fine," Melanie growled. "I. Guess. I'll. WALK. YOU. THROUGH. MAKING. DRINKS."

"I'll take a Paloma," Wuya said.

"That's two ounces of tequila," Melanie grumbled, "half an ounce lime juice…"

"Aha!" Ifurita located one of the right bottles. "Tequila!"

Eventually, Ifurita had made everyone's order and served them out. Or perhaps Melanie had "made" them, since she was the one to give Ifurita step-by-step instructions for each.

"So, what do you think?" Yzma asked upon finishing her mimosa. "This made a lovely aperitif, but I think it's dinner time."

"I could eat," Scarlet affirmed.

"I am kind of peckish, now that you mention it," Ashley said.

Melanie slammed down the rest of her Atlas 75 (better known to most as a "French 75") and banged the glass down on the bar. "GO."

The little restaurant beside the bar was filled with booths and tables; a simple menu advertised sandwiches, appetizers, and other various foods that beachgoers might want.

"Why, hello, brothers!" Wrong Hordak greeted at the door. "Or should I say 'sisters'? Welcome to our little restaurant! Come right this way and have a seat!"

He ushered them to a round table for six. "Our waiter will be out shortly to take your order," Wrong Hordak stated. "What a joyous occasion! Praise be to the Heathens!"

He hurried off.

"Wonderful," Yzma groaned. "Of course that mimosa went right through me. I've got to visit the little girls' room. I'll be back."

She dashed off to the restroom, locking herself inside. That was when Kronk came out from the kitchens to greet the group.

"What can I get you lovely ladies to eat on this lovely day?" he asked. "You should try our fried chicken. It's the special of the day. Or if you want something off the menu, I don't mind a challenge!"

"Just get me a club croissant sandwich," Melanie sighed.

"If you're going off-book," Ashley purred, "then how about making those popcorn shrimp into a paté instead? Make it look like wet cat food and I'll tip extra."

"Are you okay?" Scarlet asked.

"No," Lady Caine grunted. "She isn't. Anyway, I'll have some of that fried chicken."

"So will I," Scarlet said, "but add a grilled fruit kebab on the side."

"Good idea!" Lady Caine crowed. "I'll take one too."

"And you?" Kronk turned to Wuya, a pen hovering over a notepad that held the others' orders in shorthand.

Wuya raised a brow. "You seem familiar for some reason. Have we met somewhere?"

"Well, that depends," Kronk told her. "You ever take any interpretive dance classes?"

"Yes. Once."

"What year were you?"

"Over fifteen hundred years ago."

"No, then that's not it," Kronk murmured. "Eh, it'll come to you. So. Your order?"

"Get me a steamed crab with a side of onion rings," Wuya said. "Heavy on the cocktail sauce."

"Got it!" Kronk jotted it down.

"You might want to wait," Wuya told him. "One of us is in the restroom."

"Actually," Kronk replied, "I'll have my business partner on the lookout for 'em. I better go start prepping if we want this delivered in a timely manner! In the meantime, enjoy your complimentary glasses of water! And if anyone wants a kids' menu with the crayons, then don't be afraid to ask!"

"You heard him, Scarlet," Lady Caine teased.

"She's joking," Scarlet laughed nervously. "I don't – I don't still draw with CRAYONS. That would be silly."

As Kronk headed off, Melanie stated, "So. Crayons, huh?"

"NO CRAYONS!" Scarlet insisted.

There was the sound of a flushing toilet and a running sink. Then Yzma made her way back to the table, just after Kronk had disappeared into the kitchen.

"You missed the order," Wuya told her.

"I'll handle it," Ashley volunteered. "OH, GARCOOOOON!"

Wrong Hordak hurried to the table. "Ah, you've returned! I was told to keep a stringent watch for you. Have you made up your mind?"

"Well, in the absence of a good conch fritter," Yzma said (pronouncing "conch" phonetically), "I suppose I'll just take a small assorted seafood platter."

"Excellent!" Wrong Hordak jotted that down. "We shall return with your joyous offerings shortly!" And off he went to the kitchen.

Yzma accidentally knocked one of her forks to the floor; it skittered under the table. "Because of course," she muttered. "Hang on a second." She dropped to her knees, scooting beneath the table, out of sight.

"I think the shell is actually pronounced 'konk,'" Lady Caine pointed out.

Kronk leaned out of the kitchen door; "You called?"

"We're talking about shells, dumbass," Melanie replied.

"My mistake!" Kronk slid back into the kitchen.

"HA!" Yzma rose up, fork in hand. "Found it."

"Don't eat using a floor fork," Scarlet groaned. "I'm serious."

"You're not my mother!" Yzma spat. Then, after a nervous glance around the table, she said "Excuse me" and slid off to grab a fork from a booth.

As she was turned away, Kronk, finding the salt container in the kitchen empty, quickly darted out to grab a salt shaker off the nearest table. Back into the kitchen he dashed, and Yzma straightened up with her new fork, taking it back to the table.

"So I don't think we should give up on the sunbathing just yet," Wuya brought up. "There might not be much sun, but we can at least enjoy the splendor of sitting around doing absolutely nothing."

"I'm game for that," Lady Caine agreed.

Wrong Hordak emerged with the seafood platter in hand. "Guess whose dish was done fiii-iiiirst!" he sang. Then he placed the platter down before Yzma. "Bon appetit!"

"What is this?" Yzma gestured to it. "There's no cocktail sauce!"

"But you never asked for cocktail sauce," Wrong Hordak told her.

"I IMPLIED it!" Yzma argued.

"Well, not to worry!" Wrong Hordak told her. "I shall let you accompany me on the great quest to retrieve the sacred sauce, and you may take as much of it as you please!"

Yzma rose from her chair. "You want something done right around here, you have to do it yourself…"

Kronk had laid the other orders out on a nearby counter, steaming hot. "Ahhhh," he sighed, "the smell of fresh gourmet food. …Wait." Something smelled wrong. His index finger swayed back and forth between the dishes until it alit on Wuya's; "Aaaaa-ha!"

He plucked a single burned onion ring from the plate. "Can't have this." He thought about putting it in the garbage bin in the kitchen, but that was already close to overflowing, and he wasn't about to handle the garbage right before everyone's food. So he quickly stepped out back to fling the onion ring into the larger receptacle.

As he was outside, Wrong Hordak escorted Yzma in. "Here we are, in the exalted chambers!" he said, arms out wide.

"Just point me to the pantry!" Yzma barked.

"Right this way!" Wrong Hordak led her to the walk-in pantry, where she shut herself in while looking for her sauce.

Kronk re-entered. Wrong Hordak greeted him; "Brother! We are on a most sacred mission to acquire cocktail sauce!"

"Lemme help ya out with that!" Kronk passed him a glass bottle. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I've got five orders to deliver!"

He scooped up the tray with the five dishes upon it, then strode out to the restaurant floor. Wrong Hordak called out; "SISTER! I HAVE IN MY HAND THE VERY SAUCE YOU SEEK!"

Yzma threw the pantry door open. "Took you long enough," she grumbled, swiping it from his hand.

Kronk set down the dishes for Wuya, Ashley, Melanie, Lady Caine, and Scarlet. "Enjoy!" he told them. "And don't forget to tip your waiters! Now, ah, if you'll excuse me, I need to visit the little chefs' room."

He practically bashed his way into the men's restroom. Yzma stormed out from the kitchen, took her seat, and began to dump cocktail sauce liberally on her food.

"I swear I know this waiter somehow," Wuya muttered. "I don't think I've seen him, but he just seems…familiar."

"Probably the Jack Spicer energy," Ashley told her.

"Actually, that would explain it," Wuya sighed.

There was a "ping" as Yzma knocked yet another fork to the floor. "REALLY?" she yelled, crawling under the table to retrieve it.

Kronk exited the men's room, whistling on his way back to the kitchen. Once he'd re-entered, Yzma crawled back out, muttering, "Why am I going to all this trouble for a fork I'm going to replace anyway?"

The meal went well, without much incident. Then, toward the end, Scarlet asked, "How do we want to split the bill? I think six ways even."

The others all exchanged glances. "You know," Yzma said, "I just realized I left my…other sandals down at the beach. And wouldn't you know my wallet's in them?" And off she dashed, out the door.

"Way to ditch," Lady Caine grumbled. "Anyway, I'm hitting the ladies' room. Be back soon." Off she went.

Kronk came out with the bill, setting it on the table. "So. How're we paying?"

"I'm not." Melanie simply rose and walked out. Once she was on the boardwalk, she saw Lady Caine spill out of a small window in the women's room, landing in a heap on the planks.

"Did you even bother making a cover story?" Lady Caine asked.

"Did you actually bother climbing out a whole-ass window when you could've just walked?" Melanie retorted.

"Well, I escaped through a window," Lady Caine argued, "which is cool on its own!"

Back inside the restaurant, Ashley, Wuya, and Scarlet were left to split the bill three ways, after which they headed on down to the beach. Yzma, Melanie, and Lady Caine were already reclining on the beach chairs.

"Thanks for leaving me high and dry," Wuya snorted.

"I left you five people to split it with," Yzma argued. "Not my fault two of them escaped."

"You're lucky you're pretty," Wuya told her.

They all resumed lounging in the beach chairs. Then Wuya leaned over to Yzma; "Wanna make out in one of the cabanas?"

"I thought you'd never ask," Yzma replied.

The two girlfriends rushed playfully into a cabana tent, pulling the flap closed behind them. No sooner had they done so than Kronk, Wrong Hordak, Ifurita, Cedric, Gluntz, Narti, and Kova came striding down to the sands.

"WATERMELON!" Spike yelled, pushing a wheeled cart with a cooler onboard. "REALLY OVERPRICED WATERMELON! WHO WANTS SOME?"

Nobody answered.

"ANYBODY?" Spike asked. Then, testing the waters: "ACTUALLY, DOES ANYBODY EVEN CARE THAT I HAVE THIS CART?"

No answer.

"I'M GOING TO TAKE THIS WHOLE CART HOME WITH ME," Spike yelled. "DOES ANYONE WANNA STOP ME?"

"NO ONE CARES!" Lady Caine yelled back.

"Oooooh, the Boss is gonna be so happy that I brought home all this watermelon!" Spike squealed.

"And there's even money in the till of the cart!" Cedric reminded her, semi-sarcastically.

"Let us not forget why we are here, brothers and sisters!" Wrong Hordak proclaimed. "On this day, we find afforded to us a land of opportunity! Opportunity for CONQUEST! We shall build a stronghold here that none but the tides can dismantle!"

Gluntz translated: "SAND CASTLE TIIIIIIIME!"

Ifurita set about manipulating the sands to create a truly enormous sand castle as Scarlet, Melanie, Lady Caine, and Ashley looked on.

"How im-meow-ture," Ashley sighed.

"It's kind of adorable, though," Scarlet said. "I wish they'd make a lot less noise and not put an eyesore in our way, but what can you do?"

"Knock the damn thing over," Melanie said.

"I mean, they were the ones who practically challenged somebody to invade it," Lady Caine said slyly.

The sand castle had become actually big enough for the Heathens to enter so they could sculpt the interior to their liking. After some exchanged glances, Lady Caine, Melanie, Scarlet, and Ashley leapt up from their beach chairs, giving wild war cries as they pushed the entire castle to collapse atop its makers, whose heads popped up from the sand.

"What fun!" Ifurita laughed.

Eventually, the Heathens had their fill of the beach and left, and the WHAM ARMY women settled back down into their chairs to relax. Yzma and Wuya emerged from the cabana, disheveled and bearing several hickeys each, only after the Heathens – Kronk included – were long gone.

"And to think!" Yzma sighed. "I could never have enjoyed such a wonderful and relaxing time back at home. Not with Kronk around, making his idiocy the loudest thing in the room."

...

Midnight Alley was a trap waiting to spring upon Quentin Beck and Drake Stone. And if Drake fell for it, then Draco Malfoy would too. That was exactly why Emet-Selch and Mythros had been dispatched to accompany those three to Midnight Alley as they hung posters, ensuring there would be no distractions.

Because it was Twilight Town's most famous fashion district, filled with shops that stocked vintage, Goth, emo, and secondhand clothing. There was something offbeat for just about everyone here, but the prices often scared the common folk away. The window displays were filled with lace, shining metal, and ruffles galore.

Which meant that already, Quentin and Drake were having a very hard time staying on task.

"Now, THIS." Drake gestured to a window that bore a mannequin in a long black coat with blood-red lapels. "This I could see myself in."

"Please," Quentin scoffed, rolling his eyes. "I suppose it would be useful to own as a swatch to build up from. But otherwise, devoid of value."

"Drake knows what he's talking about," Draco seethed. "Or are you QUESTIONING him?"

"I'm not questioning him," Quentin stated. "I'm outright saying he's wrong."

"Of the two of you," Draco spat, "which one has magic and which one is a filthy Muggle?"

"My bloodline may be filthy," Quentin argued, "but my TASTE is impeccable."

"May I remind you of what we are here to do?" Emet-Selch sighed as he came up behind the trio, Mythros in tow. "Because it is most certainly not to gawk at haute couture. I seem to recall advertisements for a local festival were involved? Or is my memory finally failing me after all these years?"

"Well, you are a senior citizen," Drake pointed out. "Practically geriatric."

"In other words," Draco added, "SHUT IT, GRANDPA."

"You are to plaster advertisements for our amateur theater hour across the town," Emet-Selch insisted. "No diversions, no distractions, and no 'sidequests.'"

"Or do we have to use magic older than your towns of origin to make you see the point?" Mythros asked.

"All right," Quentin huffed, straightening up to walk on. "But for the record, you're a couple of killj – oh, THAT is what I was looking for!"

The shop's other display window had a mannequin in a shimmering green shirt bearing ruffles down the front and an ascot-tie at the base of the neck.

"That gives me ideas for a few ploys, actually," Quentin said. "After all, we'll need to blend in on some of the more medieval worlds out there…"

"Well, that's too bad, because this is Victorian," Drake teased.

"You know what I meant!" Quentin spat. "I don't think we'd be too off schedule if we just stopped to look around for a few minutes."

"No you don't," Emet-Selch scolded. "We can't afford to waste the hour you would surely need to settle upon a purchase."

"You're exaggerating," Drake replied. "I promise I'd only take fifty-nine minutes."

"Can't we do something besides plodding about for hours?" Draco added.

"You were told to plod about," Emet-Selch reminded him, "and I was told to urge you to plod about, and moreover, I refuse to do my share of the plodding if it will be ALONE!"

Drake made a step toward the door.

Emet-Selch seized him by the forearm, pulling him along. "Must I keep your focus on the task at hand as though you are some child – "

There was a "pop" sound. Suddenly, Emet-Selch held onto no one's arm. Drake was simply gone, having used his magic to vanish. And Emet-Selch knew exactly where he would be going.

"Mythros," he sighed, "do keep an eye on Quentin and Draco while I – "

As he turned around, he realized Quentin had been replaced by a cloud of green smoke, which he'd used as a screen to dash into the shop.

"You wouldn't DARE," Emet-Selch growled to Draco.

Draco had his own wand pointed to his chest. "Apparate." CRACK.

"Mythros," Emet-Selch pleaded, "am I a nanny or a governess?"

"It appears you are now," Mythros responded. "Perhaps it would do us well to have a look, ourselves. Our clothing seems to be several millennia out of date."

Emet-Selch simply waved a hand in his face as he strode into the shop, which was called "Penumbra Prince."

The interior of the shop was dark. Black ceilings, black walls. And positively stuffed with extravagant clothing. An edgy teen-rock song was blaring over the intercom; Emet-Selch couldn't hold back an eye-roll.

It took him next to no time to locate Quentin, Drake, and Draco. Who seemed to have picked up a fourth person; all four rifled through the racks eagerly.

When Emet-Selch recognized the fourth, he sighed. "I suppose this is my repayment for my dismissive gesture."

"How astute," Mythros replied with a smirk. "Perhaps next time you will keep your hands to yourself."

There were the sprightly footfalls of broken-in dress shoes on wood, and suddenly, behind them all, there appeared the proprietor of the shop. "You lot look like fashionable gents," said the slender blond man, eyeliner winging dramatically off only one eye. "You'll find everything you want here, I promise."

"We were seeking items for theatrical costumes," Quentin replied. "The more…transformative, the better."

"I see!" The shopkeeper nodded. "But they're definitely not disguises for heinous heists."

"Why would you think that?" Draco spat. "It's none of your business! Why, do you have any idea who I am?"

"I think telling him who you are will make things worse," Drake muttered.

"I'm Draco Malfoy, the Malfoy heir and the only sane one of the entire bloodline!" Draco asserted. "And this is reputed sorcerer Drake Stone! Do you know what will happen if you keep making BASELESS ACCUSATIONS about what we're here for?"

"Draco and Drake," the shopkeeper said, his grin a mile wide. "Two dragons. How absolutely draconian. Funny thing…I met another draconian man around town. I wonder if you know him."

It was Quentin who realized what he was playing at. Leaning in close, he whispered, "Yeah, we're WHAM ARMY. You're with Tony?"

"Be careful what you say out loud, with the Queen of Gotham listening everywhere," the shopkeeper replied. "No, I don't know who she is…YET…but this is a case where silence is golden. Or worth its weight in discounts, for the right people."

"You've just committed an unbearable sin," Emet-Selch sighed. "Ordinary wardrobe changes I could've steered them away from, but ordinary wardrobe changes at a sizeable bargain? You've just made my job exponentially more difficult."

"The name is Artie," the shopkeeper replied. "But you may call me Art." He gestured up and down himself, drawing attention to the ostentatious red outfit he wore. "As in…'a work of.'"

"Quentin Beck," Quentin replied. "As in 'Beck-street's back, all right.'"

And Quentin was the only person there who didn't groan very loudly.

"Let me know what I can find for you," Artie went on. "I assure you, whatever you're looking for is here…even if you were looking for disguises, which you aren't." Another wink.

"You have any more of those coats like out front?" Drake asked.

"Forget the coats!" Quentin argued. "I'm looking for something more unique. What do you have in vests?"

"It's not that I particularly WANT anything new," Draco muttered, "but now that my fingernails have been painted Slytherin house colors, I SUPPOSE I should have an outfit to match them."

"Something modern," Mythros demanded slyly. "So stylish that another old-fashioned fellow might look at me and say that I was right about needing to upgrade with the times."

Emet-Selch just leaned back against a bare patch of wall. "Thus is the inspirator of the Great War reduced to such idle purposes."

"THAT DOES IT!" Quentin snapped. "We're getting you a new outfit whether you like it or not!"

Meanwhile, outside the shop, another small crowd gathered.

"All right, fellow Heathens!" the Once-ler said, pacing back and forth in front of his five companions with his hands behind his back. "What is the most important part of being a criminal?"

"Being able to PUNCH THROUGH WALLS!" Crusher yelled.

"Motivation," Locus stated.

"Skill," Acxa volunteered.

"Autonomy," Hordak stated.

"Those are all, like, really valid answers," Ainsley piped in, "but I know what Count Olaf would say, and it's 'image,' and that's the right answer because it's one of the few things he ever got right."

"Correctamundo!" The Once-ler made finger-guns toward the redhead; "Points for Ainsley! The most important part of doing crime is how you're perceived. Whether people trust you enough to let you walk into a place. And a big part of that is staying hidden. Can anyone tell me: howwwwww do we make sure people only see what we want them to see when they look for us?"

"We PUNCH THEM IN THE FACE!" Crusher yelled.

"Camouflage technology," Locus said.

"Staying out of sight and moving fast," Acxa said.

"No longer caring," Hordak said.

"So I'm pretty sure the answer you're going for here is…disguises?" Ainsley ventured.

"BINGO!" the Once-ler confirmed. "Ainsley, you're my main person today! How you dress affects how people see you. Are you the innocent woodcutter who can get away with deforestation because you obviously mean well?" He clasped his hands, swaying side-to-side with widened eyes. "Or are you the conniving businessman who lives by SURVIVAL OF THE FITTEST?" He took on a more menacing, bent pose, clenching a hand as he raised it high. Then a snap back to neutral: "It's all in the clothes."

"Camouflage technology removes the need for that," Locus pointed out.

"Why would I need to dress in something that's less efficient than what I'm wearing?" Acxa asked.

"Because we're here to pick up new costumes," Ainsley said. "It's totally fun. It doesn't even matter if we use them all. Or we can just write our crimes around the stuff we get."

"Ainsley is ON POINT!" the Once-ler cheered. "That is EXACTLY what we're here to do today!"

Hordak gave a nod. "I do not know that I see the inherent value of disguises…but I do like the appearance of what is sold in these windows. So long as it is not impeded by my stabilizer, I would not mind a change of clothing."

"Yeah, that's the spirit!" the Once-ler urged.

"In all our weeks together as the Banzai Blasters," Crusher realized, "we've never used DISGUISES before! This is uncharted territory!"

Acxa turned to him; "You are all still wearing the uniforms of your oppressor. Wouldn't the whole Blaster squad benefit from something more personalized?"

"And here I thought you didn't see the need for inefficient clothing," Hordak said, and it surprised everyone to realize he was teasing.

"Point taken," Acxa replied. "Let's see what there is to find."

They headed into Penumbra Prince. "Music's too loud," Ainsley said straightaway, "but I'll put up with it because the clothes look really theatrical."

"Okay, team!" The Once-ler pointed dramatically at the sales floor. "GO CRAZY!"

They scattered, but remained relatively close to one another as each checked a different rack.

Artie, having finished his check-in with the WHAM ARMY, came to greet the newcomers. "Welcome," he said with a sly smile. "Feel free to have a look around…if you can actually pay the price for what you find."

"We're good," the Once-ler replied, since Emerald had gotten them a large stash of cash just for this particular outing.

"Well, if you're sure you can afford it…" Artie shrugged. "Now, if I can help you find anything." He nodded to Acxa. "I'm sure you would appreciate a gown with cascading lace. It'd suit you."

"I don't wear gowns," Acxa said sternly.

Hordak cleared his throat; "If you do not mind…I would like to see the gown selection."

"My mistake," Artie corrected. "I think I have something that'll really flatter you. Be right back."

As Artie dashed away, Acxa gave Hordak a smile. "I guess we make up for each other, then. I've never liked skirts. They're impractical."

"I find them much more comfortable than pants," Hordak replied. "They also strike a much more regal figure: important for the commander of a Horde."

"Well, you look good in the skirt you have on now." Acxa nodded. "I think the look really works for you."

"As the trousers flatter you," Hordak replied.

Then they flinched away, both suddenly startled and embarrassed for no good reason at all.

Ainsley held up a long jacket with navy-blue satin pinstripes. "Yeah, this could work."

"To be honest," the Once-ler said, "everything in this store will work on you." He gave a dreamy sigh, then shook himself out of it.

Oh. That was right. "Um…thanks," Ainsley replied. "It'd look good on you too, but totally just platonically."

They found a selection. Hordak was fitted for a black corset dress with cascading lace on the skirt; his stabilizer held his shoulders, leaving room for the dress to be strapless. Acxa, on the other hand, found herself at home in a set of black trousers and a dark vest with a host of silver chains stretching across its front. Crusher had thrown a high-collared vest of bright-red paisley over his yellow uniform. Ainsley was accessorizing their pinstripe jacket with pinstripe pants of a very clashing yellow. The Once-ler was giving a green brocade coat a go; he'd managed to find one that fit his tall and slender figure.

"Yep!" he declared. "These sure are some good disguise items!"

"We're SO not gonna get recognized wearing this stuff!" Crusher added.

On the other side of the store, Drake had found a black-and-gold tailcoat, the gold of which shimmered whenever he walked. Draco had on a ruffly green shirt, a silver waistcoat holding it in place and draping down behind with tails. Mythros was dolled up in a dark military-style jacket and pants with green accents. Then there was Quentin, who dressed in a simple white dress shirt and black pants, but with a steampunk-style vest over top featuring three silver buckles and a long overskirt panel draping down his right side. He was attempting to offer up a long hooded vest to Emet-Selch.

"Much as I cannot dissuade you from this asinine mission," Emet-Selch sneered, "you cannot persuade me to wear such fripperies."

"Fripperies?" Quentin replied. "Have you SEEN what you're wearing right now?"

Before that could go any further, Quentin overheard the villains next door:

"Yep! These sure are some good disguise items!"

"We're SO not gonna get recognized wearing this stuff!"

Of course, Quentin then had to have a look, and when he saw what the Heathens were all wearing, he burst right out laughing raucously. He abandoned Emet-Selch to hurry over to them. "Are you SERIOUS right now?" he guffawed. "You call those disguises? Sure, if you're infiltrating the circus."

"It could happen!" the Once-ler argued.

"It literally did happen to me," Ainsley added. "Circus was an actual plan Count Olaf had us do the one time. It's a legitimate thing in villain circles."

"What I'm trying to say is that your outfits lack pizzazz!" Quentin urged. "They need more panache! More glitz and glamour! Drake, back me up on this!"

Drake glanced over, then gave a choke of a laugh. "Yeah, those're pretty terrible."

"Oh, like what YOU'RE wearing is any better!" the Once-ler spat.

"Their outfits kinda are better," Ainsley muttered.

The Once-ler leaned over to them, muttering from one side of his mouth; "I know that, but I'm trying to prove a point here!"

"Tell you what," Drake said. "How's about we play a little dress-up? Quentin and I, we'll pick out your next great disguises, and then if they're not more to your liking as what you're wearing right now, then we won't admit defeat but we WILL leave you alone because you're not worth the trouble anymore. But if they are…then you'll have to admit we were right, and also get them instead."

"You're ON!" the Once-ler yelled.

"I never agreed to this," Locus grumbled. "MOST of us didn't agree to this."

"I wanna see what they have in mind," Ainsley admitted.

"Are you guys…real big-time villains?" Crusher asked in awe.

"That's not something we're about to say in the middle of a public shop!" Draco argued.

He was cut off when Quentin and Drake both said "Yes."

"Are they serious at the moment?" Draco groaned.

"Apparently," Mythros sighed, shaking his head.

Crusher gasped; "I'D LOVE TO GET DISGUISE RECOMMENDATIONS FROM BIG-TIME VILLAINS!"

"So how about just Once-ler, Crusher, and I do the challenge?" Ainsley suggested. "Since we're excited about it. Then Acxa, Hordak, and Locus can go lean on that wall with that other guy or something like that, I dunno. Unless you don't want to. I'm not you."

"I'll take the out." Acxa headed over toward Emet-Selch.

"I…would rather see what is in store for me," Hordak admitted. "I shall take the challenge as well."

"I'm not wasting my time on this," Locus sighed. "But I will apparently waste my time by that same wall." Over he headed, toward Acxa and Emet-Selch.

Artie passed by, whispering to Quentin; "If you can upsell them to the highest price point, your clothes are free."

"LET THE CHALLENGE BEGIN!" Quentin cried.

Quentin, Draco, Drake, and Mythros each picked a subject. Then they went to work ransacking the shelves, looking for only the most extravagant pieces.

Quentin focused on Once-ler, and his first move was to round up a pair of tight-fitting gloss jeans in a shimmery green. Then a matching shirt, stretchy PVC, in the same shade of green, festooned with straps that ended in silver eyelets.

As Once-ler trotted this ensemble in front of the mirror, he scoffed. "Ha! This is basic. It's vanilla! It's – "

"It's not DONE," Quentin urged, coming up with one last piece.

"There is NO WAY that whatever you have in your hand – " Once-ler began to argue.

He suddenly felt the pressure of an elbow-length cape of dark green feathers flung around his shoulders. When he saw the whole outfit put together, Once-ler sputtered and squawked.

"Okay…" he admitted. "You win this round…" And then choked back a tear. "It's beautiful…"

Draco surveyed Crusher up and down. "So you know," he stated, "I picked the most difficult one of the four on purpose. Finding something that looks good on YOU is going to be a challenge."

"Hey, be nice!" Crusher spat. "We're both bad guys, so we should be nice to each other! Or else I'll have to punch you in the face!"

"I don't have time to dissect everything wrong with what you just said!" Draco spat. "Well, since you're so obsessed with raw muscle, start with this."

His wand flicked. A mesh net top, bisected by a thin-strap harness, floated its way to crusher.

"And then…this." Draco floated to him a pair of pants, half yellow tartan and half black, with bondage straps and many eyelets. "Now, let's see how it looks."

With a flick, he had Crusher's uniform and previous waistcoat lying on the floor; the mesh shirt and half-tartan pants replaced them.

"I…I look…" Crusher gaped at himself in the mirror. "I LOOK LIKE A REAL BADASS NOW!"

"I'd say I've won my round," Draco stated smugly. "But we all guessed at that."

"Hmm…I should think this." Mythros handed over a black paisley dress shirt to Ainsley, along with a fluffy cravat and a deep black brooch. "And this is a given." Black pants with tasteful white pinstripes. "But for you, this over top." A black kilt with multiple belts.

Once Ainsley had it all together, they shuffled a slow pirouette in front of the mirror. "I love how GNC this is," they noted. "Okay, yeah, this is better."

"Oh, but YOU," Drake told Hordak. "You're not afraid to wear a skirt. You're going to be the FUN one."

"I am not so easy to please as the rest," Hordak warned with a scowl.

Drake had already picked out a couple of pieces. "Then try this on for size." He threw the clothing at Hordak, and the items magically replaced Hordak's current dress.

An off-the-shoulder overbust corset in a striking deep purple sat beneath his stabilizer, picking up the color from the gem Entrapta had installed for him. Beneath that, a long velvet skirt draped down form Hordak's waist, with the front raised slightly higher than the back so one could see the front of Hordak's ankles. The hem ended in a cascade of lace.

"I…ah…" Hordak was struck speechless before the mirror.

"See, I know when to hold back," Drake boasted with a grin. "You're one of those serious types, so I knew to go light on the sparkle THIS time."

Hordak's cheeks were starting to glow bright pink. "I…it's…" He averted his gaze. "Well, I wouldn't call it BETTER than what I had, but it is equally satisfactory, so you shall have your victory."

"Nailed it!" Drake threw both hands in the air and turned to smirk at the others.

"He looks good," Acxa remarked from her place waiting against the wall.

"They all do," Locus stated. "Then again, I've never had an eye for this."

"So what's your story?" Acxa looked up to Emet-Selch. "You're obviously a sharp dresser. Why sit out?"

"Because I care not for fleeting trends," Emet-Selch replied. "Only the timeless matters to me, in terms of what I wear. In but a month, or even a year, these garments shall all be tossed aside and ruled unfashionable, and I shall have not even seen a drop leak from the pail of my lifespan. 'Tis a mortal folly."

"You have war medals," Locus noted. "I'm guessing you wanted me to focus on your admitting you're an immortal, but I'm more interested in your years of service."

"You may have deduced that I started the conflicts more often than quelled them," Emet-Selch said. "A thankless job. And yet a necessity in my line of work."

"No one has to start a war," Acxa told him. "Maybe I'd be better off if my people never had. But I take some pride in what I've done."

"It's not a source of pride for me," Locus added. "But it changed me in ways I can't take back, and I accept who I am."

"Do you expect me to weep tears of sympathy for you?" Emet-Selch asked. "To fall to my knees begging atonement for causing an equivalent to your suffering, even though 'twas not YOU who suffered from it?"

"No," Acxa told him. "I don't expect that at all. But since Locus and I left service, we've found our happiness in trying to figure out who we are off the battlefield. Doing things like this."

"Oh, DO stop attempting to win my sympathy – " Emet-Selch began.

"I'm not FINISHED," Acxa growled. "What I'm saying is that you starting a war already means you get satisfaction out of doing frivolous and unnecessary things. How much are you holding back on by not going that way with what you wear? Because I'm guessing that's your uniform from the battlefield, and flamboyant as it is, a uniform is never an expression."

Emet-Selch had to admit that had caught him off guard ever so slightly. "It is a piece I modified to suit many purposes. And yet it is rather old. I have kept it in good condition, as I quite obviously favor it. It bears many of my own flourishes, rather than remaining a simple uniform. I find it quite telling that you, a mortal, think you can educate me in matters I've had millennia to ponder."

"All I know is you're sitting here on this wall glaring at everyone else and not having fun," Acxa told him. "And all your friends are going crazy over these clothes. Is that really how you want to spend the rest of this day?"

"A day is but a – "

"I know," Acxa said coldly. "You're immortal, so a day is nothing to you. But for us mortals, every day is something we have to spend wisely. Maybe you've forgotten just how much time you're WASTING by giving yourself the excuse of immortality. Because a day lasts just as long for us as it does for you."

"If you want to stand around and wait for everything to fall apart, then that's your prerogative," Locus added. "But it'll mean your peers are accomplishing more over the course of their lifespan than you are in yours."

Emet-Selch bristled, feeling as though his bones had crawled. "Will your chatter cease if I choose an ensemble?"

"Maybe." Acxa smiled. "I think it's worth the risk, to see if we will."

Emet-Selch pushed off the wall, striding out onto the sales floor. "I do warn you that I shall pass on the entire concept if I do not find anything suitably regal."

When he emerged from a fitting room wearing a long hooded black jacket that bore silver buttons from neck to hem, a dual-buckled belt around his waist, a pair of white trousers with a half-skirt on the front left, and a sleek red vest beneath the coat, he was greeted by applause from Quentin, Drake, Draco, and Mythros. And, seeing them, Crusher, Once-ler, and Ainsley promptly joined in.

"HE SEES SENSE AT LAST!" Quentin bellowed.

"I've always seen sense," Emet-Selch replied with a grin. "I merely choose when to put it into practice."

Everyone headed over to the checkout desk. The Heathens had to pony up everything Emerald had netted them that day, plus a little IOU. The WHAM ARMY simply showed which tags they were depleting from inventory and got their totals couponed to nothing.

"Come back soon!" Artie encouraged. "This place doesn't see NEARLY enough mischief, after all."

"So, like…major thanks for fixing our wardrobe," Ainsley said once they were all outside.

"It was nothing, really," Quentin said proudly. "All in a day's work to help the less fortunate. Now run along, all of you. You've got petty crime to pull off while we work on a REAL scheme."

"I wanted to check out that karaoke bar down the street," Crusher piped up.

"Did you say karaoke?" Once-ler perked up. "I am ALL IN for that!" As the Heathens group turned to walk the opposite way from the WHAM contingent, Once-ler waved; "Catch you guys on the flipside!"

Emet-Selch merely put up a hand and flicked it without turning around, and this served as a goodbye from the group.

Quentin chuckled to himself. "Amateurs. You can put as much bad CGI in a film as you want and the story will still suffer whatever flaws you left in it. Same goes for dressing up those guys."

"Yeah, could already tell they're kinda dorks," Drake added. "Didn't even notice we paid nothing for ours."

"Well, we showed them," Draco said proudly. "Now let's get back to posters before our babysitter scolds us again!"

"As a matter of fact," Emet-Selch said, "I was mistaken. There is still plenty of time left. It merely seems that given my circumstances, I tend to forget how many hours are truly in a day."

...

Twilight Town, like most large cities, had a cemetery, and it was a sizeable one to boot. A great wire arch framed the entryway, and beyond were the headstones of the poor and the monoliths of the rich. A lot of angel imagery, strangely – almost every larger stone was an angel, and that made Ayam Aghoul curious.

He did want to step inside and explore, but he knew now wasn't the time. This was a rendez-vous point, and if he entered the graveyard ahead of time, he would probably get diverted trying to dig up a beautiful woman and get himself lost among the headstones, which would greatly anger the one he was waiting for.

Thankfully, that person appeared in a flash of electric blue.

"So?" Aghoul asked. "How are they doing?"

"Let's see," Mozenrath rattled off. "Vexen, Drakken, Octopus, Shego, Deymos, and Liquidator had things pretty much covered on Sunset Terrace. That is, until those 'Seven Wonders' kicked in."

"I thought those were urban legends proved to be only rumors," Aghoul said, wide-eyed.

"Tell that to Vexen, who got trapped walking down an endless staircase," Mozenrath grumbled. "Deymos seemed to be having fun out-doppelgängering the Doppelgänger, though. Then, like with all the other teams, a bunch of lesser villains showed up to help our friends fight the phenomena, and all they succeeded in really doing was getting their catgirl hit in the head by the Friend from Beyond the Wall."

"How interesting!" Aghoul chuckled. "It seems there is more to this town than we know. How about the team in the industrial sector?"

"Zevon and Kamdor got wrapped up in a competition to see who could put up more posters," Mozenrath rattled off. "Thing is, Zevon was using his fully-assembled Corona Aurora, and Kamdor had an army of formerly inanimate objects, so the sunstone factory is more or less wallpapered in extraneous posters now. Xayide, Tala, and Irmaplotz attempted to net us some sunstones from the factory, but, as should be expected of them, SOMEHOW ended up trapped in the garbage disposal, and the only reason I don't have to commit three more necromancies than I intended today is because what I take to be a trio of pirates showed up to let them out. Two space pirates, one maritime. They demanded a cut, and Irmaplotz being Irmaplotz, they got it."

"Do we have any sunstones whatsoever?" Aghoul asked.

"Enough," Mozenrath said with a smirk. "That ought to help with things in the coming invasion."

"And the political district?" Aghoul inquired.

Mozenrath sighed, almost a groan. "The political district."

"What about it?"

"You…remember who we sent there, right?"

"No."

Mozenrath ran a hand down his face. "That team was Morvok, Commander Peepers, Hämsterviel, Hannibal Roy Bean, and DISCORD. And yes. They redecorated. I wouldn't go to that district for the next twenty-four hours if I were you unless you actively WANT your sense of direction scrambled."

"Any interlopers?" Aghoul asked.

"As a matter of fact," Mozenrath said, "a little rodent in a top hat, some kind of space panther, a raven, and a small gargoyle spent about the first ten minutes tailing our team to see if they were anything to worry about. Then the next twenty minutes helping them with the Chaos District. And then within the following five, they'd gotten scared off."

(And in all the chaos, he'd simply failed to notice the sharply-dressed woman with the short red-streaked hair walking around the district for surveillance, as Fish Mooney had seemed the most normal thing there.)

"Sounds like they're getting their jobs done," Aghoul chuckled. "But not as well as we're about to."

"There's no reason we shouldn't own this town already," Mozenrath growled. "Well. Apparently there's one reason. This 'Queen of Gotham.' It's high time her opponents sent her a little MESSAGE about what she's up against."

"Oh, this is going to be so much fun!" Aghoul clapped his hands together. "You know, you and I never really hung out all that much for being from the same realm. I like to think we're making up for lost time."

"I have some regrets in that regard too," Mozenrath admitted. "But the best time to slaughter a nation is twenty years ago. The second best time is today."

"I love the way you think!" Aghoul giggled, hardly able to hold in his excitement. "Well? Shall we get on with it?"

Mozenrath turned to the cemetery archway. "The time is right for it."

He and Aghoul walked five paces into the cemetery. Then, exchanging a sly glance, they each put out a hand – Mozenrath's right and Aghoul's left – charging up glows of magic in each. Together, they raised their arms to the sky, letting the magic become an upside-down thunderbolt that struck the sky instead of coming from it, a great CRASH sounding as it did so.

Then it began to rain, a localized shower on the cemetery, little drops of blue magic. And once enough of it had soaked into the ground, illuminating the grass, the desiccated limbs began to thrust up through the ground, digging their owners free.

"Hades isn't going to be very happy that we only made zombies again," Aghoul chuckled.

"That sounds like a bonus more than anything," Mozenrath replied.

Down in Tram Common, several of the WHAM ARMY had returned to roost. Roman, Snatcher, Tony, and Rachel walked past the magic mailbox, deep in discussion.

"I keep doing things right!" Rachel lamented. "Exactly the way I'm told! And what do I ever get for it? Broken relationships, fired from part-time gigs, and treated like a freak!"

"This is beginning to get frightening," Snatcher muttered to Roman.

"I think it's cute that you have a mini-me," Roman teased.

The four passed the mailbox, and someone who'd been trying to take a photo of it yelled, "Hey! You're ruining my shot!"

"Oh, my apologies," Tony replied. "But if I'm going to ruin the shot, I should at least go all the way, don't you think?"

He then punched out the photographer as hard as he could.

"That is so hot," Rachel sputtered.

Melanie, seated at an outdoor table of Le Grand Bistrot, put out a hand and simply said "Drink." A waiter handed her a cocktail, which she began to chug.

"You know," Yzma said as she spooned chocolate mousse into her mouth, "I can't tell you what it is, but the food here just doesn't seem as good as what we had down on the pier."

"Maybe because this is a heartless cash grab?" Lady Caine suggested.

"But WE'RE a heartless cash grab," Scarlet pointed out. "That's literally what we're here to advertise."

"Doesn't mean we have to like other people's heartless cash grabs." Ashley spooned up a banana soufflé (that was once again sculpted to look like wet cat food).

"That's the trouble with having a body that isn't a misty floating spirit." Wuya poked her crepes suzette with a fork. "Knowing this kind of thing will go right to your thighs."

"OHHHHH NO YOU DON'T!" Yzma struck an en-garde pose with her fork. "We have enough body-image issues around here – in me alone, come to think of it! – without you getting in on it. You're as delicious as this very mousse, and I won't hear you say otherwise! Besides…" She let out a purr. "I do like a substantial pair of thighs…"

"You." Wuya stuffed half a crepe into her mouth. "I'm keeping you around. You knew that, but it bears repeating."

Neo put down some of the munny from the train hijack and thumped the table twice. She was handed a triple-scoop ice cream cone – chocolate, vanilla, strawberry. As she turned away to begin eating her prize, someone bumped into her hard, causing the chocolate and vanilla to fall onto the street with a splatter.

A high-pitched chortle informed Neo that that someone was in fact Mim.

"Oh, don't you think it's funny?" Mim screeched as Neo became angrier and angrier. "I think it's hysterical!"

Neo finally snapped, slamming the ice-cold strawberry scoop right into Mim's chest.

"HELP!" she shrieked. "HELP, I'M BEING STABBED!"

Scaramouche and Demongo skidded around the corner from behind another shop. They didn't disclose what exactly they'd been doing, but it seemed Scaramouche's red boots had some mysterious stains of a different hue of red, and Demongo hastily tucked an extra skull into his arsenal.

"Well, that's a disappointment if I ever saw one," Scaramouche said, slumping over.

"It's only ice cream," Demongo sighed. "And here I thought we were in for a show."

Then Mim scooped up the chocolate ice cream that had fallen to the ground and shoved it right in Neo's face.

"We might just get that show after all," Scaramouche said mischievously. "And the best seats in the house for it!"

The Huntsman looked over a checklist as he led Felix, Alpha, Miltia, and the Mukhtar into the common. "I suppose that only leaves the problem of the catering," he muttered. "Which is not my specialty. Someone else will take care of it."

"I can mix drinks," Miltia volunteered.

"This is a dry event," the Huntsman told her. "This is the FINAL time I will tell you."

"Fucking bullshit," Miltia grumbled.

"It may be best to have our wits about us," the Mukhtar pointed out. "After all, it seems there are hidden threats lurking in this town, if what Dracon said is anything to go by."

The first zombie shambled across the street in front of them, scooting itself down an alley.

"…What." Felix shook his head. "You guys saw that, right?"

"As I said," the Mukhtar reiterated. "Hidden threats."

"Maybe it was a native," Alpha suggested.

"An undead?" the Huntsman replied. "Highly unlikely."
Then the second and third zombies shuffled past. One of them slapped a WATYR Fest poster to a nearby wall, upside-down.

"…Oh," the Huntsman realized.

Then the panic set in, with civilians screaming for dear life:

"ZOMBIE APOCALYPSE!"

"EVERYBODY RUN!"

"THE END IS NIIIIIGH!"

"Zombies?" Yzma repeated. "Why is it ZOMBIES all of a sudden?"

"Take a guess," Wuya said dryly.

Yzma realized it as well. Then she and Wuya both rose, scrambling to get a better view of the action.

"Okay," Roman said as he and Snatcher sought a better vantage point, "if this is what I think it is, then I can't be the himbo for the rest of the day, because I guarantee you I wouldn't do anything THAT stupid."

"Stupid indeed," Snatcher affirmed. "And yet it will make for one dramatic production."

"Damn straight."

Mim was already on the upper terrace by the time the other five got there. "Oh, I'm so excited!" She bounded up and down gleefully. "It's been ages since I've seen a good zombie apocalypse!"

"You've seen MULTIPLE?" Roman said in awe.

"Oh, did I never tell you the story?" Mim replied. "I really should get around to it one of these days. It's a wonderfully sentimental tale."

Snatcher rushed to the Huntsman; "Have we confirmed it's them?"

"Yes," the Huntsman replied, pointing to the horizon. "Here they come."

In one respect, "they" were the horde of undead corpses, freshly risen from the Twilight Town cemetery, shambling into Tram Common. Their eyes were blank and unseeing, their gait awkward. A passing tram ran over three, and they simply fell to pieces without being otherwise bothered, their scattered bits wriggling about.

But more importantly, "they" were Mozenrath and Aghoul, leading the parade with pride, stepping in synchrony.

"So much for ethos," Snatcher grumbled.

Mozenrath and Aghoul's hearts were synchronized in their smugness, and so as they proceeded, there was suddenly a little more spring in their step. Then, making a leaping twirl, Aghoul pointed both index fingers to Mozenrath, yelling, "THIS IS IT!" His tone took on a melody; "Now we've found it! I'm astounded!"

Mozenrath struck a confident pose, singing right back; "This paltry town will be surrounded by a throng of marching death!"

Aghoul rubbed his hands together, intertwining the fingers; "Delicious the riches, they glisten ahead!"

The zombies were now spread throughout Tram Common, affixing WATYR Fest posters to every surface they could find.

"I'm to have to take so much corrective action to cover for this in public relations," Snatcher sighed, head in his hands.

Mim punched him lightly in the side; "Quit your bellyaching and enjoy the show!"

Aghoul extended a hand; Mozenrath bowed before taking it. "It's a craze!" Aghoul said before spinning Mozenrath into a dance alongside him. "They'll devour every hour these endless, non-progressive inundations of their kind!"

"And lucky for you," Mozenrath sang, letting Aghoul spin him out so he could point to the photographer who'd hassled Rachel, "YOU'RE THE NEXT ONE IN LINE!"

The two sorcerers launched into a promenade across the common, singing in harmony; "When we're necromancin', everyone's dancin'! No one can stop us; we dare you to try! The dead are infused with sensational groove, and they're coming for you now – there's nowhere to hide!"

As one, the zombies froze; then they began to dance, each in synchrony with one another, to back up their animators. "YEAH!" Aghoul screamed.

"Waltzing forth!" Mozenrath crowed. "Here they come!"

"WE'RE RAISIN' THE DEAD!" Aghoul belted.

"Everyone, TURN AND RUN," Mozenrath said smugly.

"We're lovin' the dread!" Aghoul trilled.

"Killer moves that will stun!" Mozenrath said with the confidence of a salesman.

They came to a halt, facing one another as they screamed, "LET'S MAKE SOME EEEEEVIL!"

Several of the undead moved to form a chorus line behind Mozenrath and Aghoul. The former departed, letting Aghoul do can-can kicks that his undead backup dancers copied. "I'm in bliss!" Aghoul sang. "My cadavers drive a gathering of streets of gleeful people seeing the deceased's advance!"

He referred, of course, to the screaming crowd of civilians that bolted away at top speed. Mozenrath headed them off, teleporting several zombies in front of them to hold the line; "The risen are ridden with rhythm and dance!"

The zombies seized the living. They were not hungry for flesh, instead craving dance partners. Rotting, maggot-infested corpses grasped tightly to the young and hale as they whirled about the common. "Dig up some flesh with plenty of mold!" Aghoul cheered. "Disease is appeasing for rickety bones!"

Mozenrath zapped himself atop a higher terrace, spreading his arms and radiating with blue glow; "And make it saucy, with a hot incantation! Dominion is served with a bubbling, spirited, vibrant SUBJUGATION!"

Down he leapt, landing beside Aghoul to dance along (badly, as usual) with the other zombies. "YES!" Mozenrath crowed.

"Waltzing forth!" Aghoul proclaimed. "HERE THEY COME!"

"We're raising the dead!" Mozenrath sang.

"Everyone turn and run!" Aghoul cackled.

"We're loving the dread!" Mozenrath said with a wink and a smirk.

"Killer moves that'll stun!" Aghoul declared.

Together again: "LET'S MAKE SOME EEEEVIL!"

Mozenrath pointed to a group of as-of-yet unclaimed civilians cowering in a corner; "YOU!"

"Bust a move," Aghoul said, ushering the backup zombies toward them. "Or you'll lose!"

"THE DANCE OF THE DEAD!" Mozenrath cried triumphantly as the corpses plucked up dance partners to whirl around.

"They'll swarm all over you!" Aghoul warned teasingly.

"GET OUT THERE AND SHRED!" Mozenrath pointed the zombies to the common, where they dragged their screaming dance partners.

"It's a zombie Footloose!" Aghoul laughed.

Mozenrath turned back to him so they could scream, "LET'S MAKE SOME EEEEEVIL!"

Having finished up their missions, the other WHAM ARMY members who'd been dispatched had by now arrived in the Common. Deymos had managed to convince Vexen to dance with him again. Quackerjack, Megavolt, and Liquidator frog-marched Bushroot out of Liquid Assets to rope him into a four-man chorus line. Shego moved as seductively as she could in front of Otto Octavius, and Drakken innocently shoved Otto a little closer to her while whistling along. Morvok soared overhead on his hoverbot, holding Hämsterviel high so the dictator could cackle fiendishly. Discord had conjured himself a ruffly tuxedo and Peepers a glittering ballgown so they could paradoxically dance a waltz together to the beat that was in four/four time. Hannibal shapeshifted into a zombie for the purpose of leading a rogue group to hunt down more civilians to dance with.

Up on the high terrace, Wuya, Yzma, the Huntsman, Mim, Roman, and Snatcher watched, wide-eyed.

"The city's laid waste," Snatcher sang, "and they CELEBRATE!"

"Freed now from their graves, huh?" Wuya remarked.

"We love it so!" Mim chirped. "More, more, more, MORE!"

"They'll mince and prowl," the Huntsman sighed.

Roman shrugged, saying rhythmically, "It's happening now, the necromance ballet!"

"Eh." Yzma waved it off. "It's all the same."

All six of them hurried down to join Mozenrath and Aghoul on the frontlines, dancing along with the fray of corpses.

Xayide, Tala, and Irmaplotz twirled about with wild abandon. Zevon and Kamdor raced through the chaos, leaping and kicking whenever they felt like it. Draco wasn't exactly fighting Drake, who was spinning him around wildly. Quentin arrived in full dress as Mysterio in a cloud of green smoke, laughing wickedly as the zombies thronged. Emet-Selch and Mythros plucked two corpses from the crowd, dancing hand-in-hand with them before Emet-Selch snapped the neck of his partner and dropped the body to the ground, with Mythros blowing his own partner up with a blaze of magic. Ravess had taken out her violin to play accompaniment, to which Randall swayed and rocked. Jack Spicer danced wildly with his eyes closed, knocking over a zombie in the process.

"So anyway," Giovanni was saying as he rounded the corner with Harley and Velvet in tow, each munching on a corn dog, "they never would've found their friend if I hadn't pointed them in the right direction. Also WHAT THE DAMN HELL?"

"Are they…?" Velvet asked, gaping.

"Look!" Harley pointed excitedly. "It's Romy an' his pals! I shoulda known they'd be behind somethin' this - "

"Disgusting," Velvet muttered, wrinkling her nose.

"BADASS!" Giovanni squealed.

"…Well, yes, that too," Velvet grumbled almost inaudibly.

"YEAH!" the WHAM ARMY, in its purest core form, yelled. "WALTZING FORTH, HERE THEY COME! WE'RE RAISING THE DEAD! EVERYONE, TURN AND RUN!"

Melanie raised her glass high; Lady Caine, Scarlet, and Ashley toasted the zombie apocalypse, glasses crashing together.

"WE'RE LOVING THE DREAD!" the eight founders declared. "KILLER MOVES THAT WILL STUN! LET'S MAKE SOME EVIL!"

Demongo, Scaramouche, and Neo started out by leaping up and down, thrusting their fists in the air on the sidelines, but then decided they each wanted their own undead partners and grasped some choice corpses to tango with.

"YEAH!" the eight founders chorused. "BUST A MOVE OR YOU'LL LOSE!"

The Mukhtar sailed through the air, his blade piercing a zombie that was dancing with a civilian. This was no act of mercy; the civilian was splattered with blood and guts, screaming siren-high. Alpha, Felix, and Miltia joined in cutting down the undead simply to add onto the chaos.

"THE DANCE OF THE DEAD!" the founders sang. "THEY'LL SWARM ALL OVER YOU!"

Tony had managed to convince Rachel to dance along, and the two of them were spinning frenetically through the chaos.

"GET OUT THERE AND SHRED!" the founders harmonized. "IT'S A ZOMBIE FOOTLOOSE!" Mozenrath, Aghoul, Yzma, Wuya, Mim, the Huntsman, Snatcher, and Roman leapt to a halt, throwing their arms skyward with a final "LET'S MAKE SOME EEEEEEVIL!" Then Mozenrath and Aghoul whirled out front, slapping a high-five. From the connection of their palms radiated a shockwave of magic that engulfed the entire common, and every single reanimated corpse dropped stone dead and motionless back down on the street.

"TAKE THAT, QUEEN OF GOTHAM!" Mozenrath screamed.

Snatcher immediately pushed past him; "We hope you all enjoyed our little production! Special effects, all of it, of course. Always had a preference for the horror genre, makes for wondrous shock value, but rest assured, ALL done with wires and mechanics, be sure to attend WATYR Fest for more such theatrics and follies!" He then leaned back to hiss to the others: "Get these cadavers OFF the streets and BACK where they belong before anyone finds out their true nature!"

The clean-up crew dispersed.

"Y'know," Harley remarked, "I'm glad they're kickin' around our neck of the woods. Things are gonna get fun. I just know it!"

"So, like…" Giovanni thought it over. "You think I could learn how to do that? Raise the dead?"

"If nothing else…" Velvet bit into her corn dog. "We know we're in the right town."

Even further up, however, on the roof of a tall building, three and a half Maidens surveyed the carnage.

"So that was a message," Fish Mooney stated. "Well, let me tell you it's been received loud and clear."

"I haven't seen a mass necromancy that spectacular since…" Gothel thought it over. "Well, I was going to say when I was growing up, but compared to my mother's work, that was absolutely paltry."

"So we're going to char them on skewers, right?" Larxene posed.

"They won't get away with this." Cinder clenched a flaming fist.

"All in due time," Fish told her. "We're proceeding with the plan. I will say I now have a better idea of our timing, and I need to have a little conference about Hugo as to our follow-up. We're going to make them hurt."

...

Traditionally, sets of friends would sit on the clock tower and eat sea salt ice cream as they watched the perpetual sunset. Team RWBY, however, had with them not ice cream but takeout boxes of fine French cuisine. Which turned out to be a very satisfying thing to eat while watching the sunset.

"So, Weiss," Yang began with a laugh. "Why are you pink now?"

Weiss' face went as pink as her dress. "Laundry accident. My boyfriend offered to run it through the wash, and I, not knowing he rarely ever used a washing machine, thought it would turn out." Then she smiled. "But I can't be too mad. It was funny."

"You have a boyfriend too?" Yang cried. "WEISS! How did you all get so busy while I was gone? Okay, I need details. Now. Ruby first 'cause she's my little sister."

"His name's Booster," Ruby explained. "He's a space ranger, which means he's been to all kinds of planets taking care of problems and fighting villains, like us Huntresses. Well…ex-Huntresses-in-training. That's the thing. He flunked out of his training, so he got it cut short too, but he still made the squad at his age, so it makes me think that we do count. We just need our big break. Anyway, he's the nicest guy you'll ever, ever, ever meet. He's a sweetheart and he understands that you measure the chocolate chips for cookies with your heart, not by the recipe. He's also adorable!" Her eyes were sparkling just talking about him. "I'm gonna shut up now so Weiss can talk about Kazuichi."

"You're up, Weiss," Yang told her.

"Well, that's his name," Weiss replied. "He's…unique. He's kind, and he makes me smile. He can be a little loud, and a little rough around the edges, but…actually, no 'but.' That's a big part of what makes us work. He's real. And I feel real when I'm with him. Also, he can go on for literally hours about trains if you get him started. We've had some in-depth conversations about Myrtenaster, actually." She sighed wistfully. "I wasn't sure at first, but I'm glad we met. Oh, and he's VERY handsome, too."

"Blaaaake?" Yang urged. "You got anybody?"

Blake was seated as far from Yang as she could get, with Ruby and Weiss acting as a buffer between the two. She turned away to mumble "No. Not yet."

"TELL US ABOUT YOUR GIRLFRIEND!" Ruby chirped before Yang could call out Blake's odd behavior.

"Her name's Harley," Yang explained. "Full name's Harley Quinn. That's right! My girlfriend's name is a goddamn pun!" She beamed.

"Well, that's fitting for you," Weiss stated.

"She's got a great sense of humor," Yang went on. "And…well…she and I have both been hurt, but we know how to talk it out. I really feel like she listens to me and GETS it, and then when she talks, I know I get it. We just…we click. And she's pretty sexy. Not to brag, but I lost my V-card to her, and she did NOT disappoint. Details if you want."

"Yang!" Weiss barked. "You don't say things like that in front of Ruby!"

"Why not?" Yang replied. "Wait. You don't know?"

"Don't know what?" Weiss asked.

"That I once binge-read the entire Ninjas in Love saga in a week because it was so spicy?" Ruby admitted, turning red.

"RUBY ROSE!" Weiss snapped.

"You're the one who was talking about doing the frick-frack with Kazuichi earlier!" Ruby accused.

"To explain the glasses!" Weiss argued.

"You did the frick-frack," Ruby accused, "you brought it up, and you LIKED bringing it up."

Now Weiss had gone pink. "Well…okay…but that's still not just something you talk about in public! You don't know how Blake feels about it!"

"Weiss…?" Blake tilted her head. "Who do you think GAVE Ruby Ninjas in Love? Those were my books."

"Oh," Weiss realized.

"I read you loud and clear, though," Yang said. "Sex talk is a no-no."

"Well, the thing is – " Weiss was growing redder by the moment. "It's not a no-no. I just thought – I was always sure we – you know, that the rest of you were – "

Blake knew what she was trying to say. "We all could've been talking about sex this whole time," she announced, "but each of us thought the rest of the team was squeamish about that."

"Yeah," Weiss admitted. "That. So…when we get back to the castle…if we're still doing that sleepover thing, we should carve out some time for…you know, talking about the good stuff. And…I wouldn't mind hearing those details, Yang."

"Hell yeah!" Yang agreed.

"But I AM too embarrassed to talk about it right here on a public tower," Weiss said, "so it should wait."

"Also, slumber party?" Yang asked. "Count me in!"

"So what are you and Harley up to here?" Ruby asked. "You already went in on a house."

"Well, 'went in on' as in we live there," Yang corrected. "Not as in we actively pay for it. And, uh…so there's something I'm kinda gonna have to ask you guys not to judge."

"Promise," Ruby said immediately.

"That hardly ever signals anything good," Weiss said flatly. "But I'll see where this goes."

"…Yeah," Blake said. "We're good."

"Soooooo…" Yang looked out to the sunset. "Man, that sun is beautiful. This is a great town, you know. It would especially be great for a crime syndicate that knows where to draw a line in the sand about hurting people would have a real great time committing petty theft and other small crimes."

"Yang, where is this going?" Weiss asked.

"I'm just saying that I'm kinda…" Yang waved her robotic hand. "Maybe…sorta…in one of those."

"You're in a CRIME GANG?" Weiss barked.

"I said don't JUDGE!" Yang barked back. "Look, they're not like the real bad guys, okay? We're not trying to hurt anyone innocent. We're just…having fun breaking the rules, because the rules suck. You remember how much of a delinquent I used to be before Beacon, right? I MISSED that. Beacon helped me realize the good in me, but I need to balance that with the bad in me, too. And I swear on both the gods that we are NOT HURTING INNOCENTS. So can you just…like…not call the space rangers or whatever on them?"

After a pause, Weiss said, "I guess I of all people shouldn't judge. Kazuichi's past is…colorful. But it's a part of him. The thing is, it's a part that helped him move on into something else, but…"

"But you've probably all forgotten by now," Blake cut in. "Because I've tried to ignore it myself, and maybe make you forget it too. But I started out as an extremist activist. I did some incredibly illegal things in the name of the White Fang. I gave it up because…Adam didn't know where to draw the line. If it hadn't been for him, I might be in the same place as Yang right now. Would you not wanna be my friends anymore if I was still doing that? Hijacking trains?"

"I mean, if it was SDC trains…" Weiss cut herself off. "Actually, no. I just realized I'd WANT you to mess up my dad's trains. It's not like I'm proud of being an heiress to Faunus labor anymore. I guess you're right."

"We've had a lot of adventures fighting actually evil villains," Ruby told Yang. "The kind of people who want to take over the worlds. They've killed people we care about."

"And we wouldn't do that," Yang insisted. "Well, okay, Katsuhiko wants to take over SOMETHING, so we should let him, but we're not gonna let him get away with making anyone suffer for it."

"Maybe we can meet your new friends someday," Ruby suggested. "I promise no calling the cops."

"You know I'll be good," Blake said. "Glass houses."

"I would like to meet them, actually," Weiss admitted. "If only because…well, every time I run into someone who breaks the rules, I seem to learn something, and that person always ends up being special to me. But ONLY if you're right about them. I know you wouldn't lie to us, Yang, but I worry about them lying to you."

"Trust me," Yang assured. "If you met them – oh my gods, if you guys met Giovanni, you'd know he's legit. He would LOVE you. And Velvet would act like she hates you, but that's how she is with everybody. Velvet is like…me if you took away all the fun parts. And Giovanni is like me if you took away all the serious parts. Huh. Makes sense why we're all friends. Anyway, we call ourselves the Heathens."

"Catchy," Blake muttered.

"Then let's plan on it," Ruby said. "Team RWBY meets the Heathens. How many people do you have, anyway? Just the three?"

"Way more," Yang said with a grin.

"How'd you meet, anyway?" Ruby asked.

"Tell you what," Yang said. "I'll tell you that story if you tell me what you were all up to while I was gone."

"Deal," Weiss said.

So they exchanged tales. Yang first, talking about her adventure in Desolation in the Realm of Sleep. All the friends she'd met there, and the journeys she'd taken with them. Then Ruby talked briefly about her history with the Cinnamons, fighting the Overtakers and WHAM ARMY, and from there, Weiss picked up to relate the story of the attack on Haven, with Blake chiming in to add a footnote on the White Fang.

That meant, of course, telling the part where Raven Branwen died.

They let Yang be silent a while. "I get it now," she said. "In the dream, near the end of it, I felt something…wrong. That was the day Harley and I did it. I wanted to get my mind off the weird feeling I had. Guess I could just…sense when she was gone."

"I'm so sorry, Yang," Ruby said sympathetically. "I know you spent so much time looking for her, and you wanted to know her, and – "

"I saw her once before it all went down," Yang said coldly. "She…she was never much of a mom. It's not like I'm happy she's gone. But she didn't live up to the image I made in my head. And thinking back, as rotten as she was to me, she was even worse to you, Ruby. And to our dad. Do you ever think about that? How she turned her back on our dad, on Uncle Qrow, on her teammate, our mom, just to hide like a coward? She couldn't even tell me the truth without Emerald – fucking EMERALD – making her talk. And then she was supposed to be your family, too, but I guess she just didn't think you or mom was good enough. No. It's sad that she died, but I'm not gonna waste time on it. Not again. We had one mom, Ruby, and we lost her a long time ago."

"Yang," Ruby said softly, "it's…it's okay to be sad about somebody who…wasn't that great."

"I did the same thing," Yang told her. "I was so caught up in this fantasy of having a real mom that I put her over you over and over again. She wasn't worth it. I'm sorry."

"I never felt that way," Ruby told her. "I knew how much it meant to you. I know if it was the other way around – if Summer was still alive somewhere, but Raven was gone – I probably would've been the same way."

Ruby scooted a hand over to place on Yang's where it rested palm-down on the flat stone. Yang then worked her fingers out from beneath Ruby's so she could put her own hand on top.

"You can finish the story now," Yang said.

The next challenge was to relate the fall of Atlas. Weiss couldn't hold back tears.

"THAT'S what you're fucking fighting?" Yang cried, enraged. "They just DROPPED Atlas? Okay, NOW I see why you're suspicious. That's – that's over the fucking line! Those guys are DEAD! Yeah, yeah, I know, you guys don't kill, but guess what? I'm on the other team, so I can kill who I want, so show me who did it and I'll have the Heathens END them!"

"Um…we'll take a rain check on that," Weiss said.

Yang forced herself calm. "A whole kingdom gone," she reiterated. "That's…it doesn't even feel like it can be real. There were always the four kingdoms and Menagerie. That was ALWAYS how the world worked."

"It's weird for us too," Ruby told her.

"More than weird," Weiss said.

"Hey." Yang leaned around to get a better look at Weiss. "When we're not sitting on a death drop, remind me to hug you. You…you deserve way better than all this."

Weiss sniffled, wiping away tears with a sleeve.

At last, the stories ended with "And that's how we ended up here." The four looked off into the setting sun.

"This is all just so crazy," Yang said. "I thought what I was going through was unbelievable, but you guys…"

"Things have been unbelievable for a while on my end," Ruby affirmed. "Sometimes I like it, though. Not the parts where people die or kingdoms fall, of course, but I mean…seeing new worlds and meeting new people and just being a part of something bigger than we ever could've imagined."

"Ruby?" Yang realized. "You remember what you said about how we should be able to count as Huntresses even if we don't graduate? I think we WAY proved we deserve the title."

"A license is just a formality," Weiss agreed.

They finished up dinner. Then Yang suggested, "Hey…Ruby? Weiss? Do you guys mind…leaving me and Blake alone for a little bit?"

"What?" Blake cringed. "I don't – " She then sighed, cat-ears drooping. "I guess we couldn't put it off forever."

"You guys gonna be okay?" Ruby asked.

"We will," Yang said. "Once we've talked this out. But Blake, don't think I've noticed that you're even quieter than usual."

"Well, then." Weiss packed up the box with the last remnants of her food and stood. "Ruby, this would be a great time to tell me WHAT IT IS YOU'RE PLANNING THAT YOU DON'T WANT ME TO KNOW ABOUT."

"If you wanna know," Ruby said with a smirk, "you'll have to catch me."

In a streak of red, she was gone.

"RUBY!" Weiss barreled around the tower to the door that led back down to the station.

That left Yang and Blake, who felt miles apart.

"Yang…" Blake wrung her hands in her lap. "I screwed up. And I'm sorry."

"I'm not mad anymore," Yang told her. "Or at least I don't think I will be." Her brow furrowed, her voice growing hard; "But I do want to know why you left. I want to hear you say it."

"I thought I could protect you," Blake told her. "Adam was after me, and because of that, you got hurt. I didn't want it to happen again. I thought if I left…Adam would follow, and then he couldn't hurt you anymore, or anyone else I cared about. But…mostly you." She heaved a sigh. "I see I was wrong now. There are always risks no matter what, and a better way to protect you would've been to stay and fight – "

Yang made an "Ehhhh" that sounded like a sports buzzer, giving a thumbs-down. "Wrong."

"Huh?" Blake looked to her in confusion.

"I don't want protection," Yang told her. "While I was alone, just sulking…I realized I would only ever be happy with myself again if I could believe in myself. NOT rely on anyone else to save me from the bad guys. After my trip with Harley…I fought Nightmares. I fought a GIANT evil monster! I'm better than I ever was. You could say I'm…" She lifted her metal arm. "ARMED and ready."

Blake couldn't help a massive snort. When she calmed down, she said, "It makes sense to put it that way. I'm still sorry I left."

"It wasn't the right choice," Yang told her. "I won't lie about that. But at first…I was so angry with you. I thought that I would never be able to forgive you. That what you did would make me hate you for the rest of my life. But then…something happened that put it into perspective. Spoilers: I don't hate you, and I'm not as mad, and I wanna be friends again."

"What happened?" Blake asked.

"I met Harley," Yang told her. "And once we started dating…once I REALLY started falling for her…I realized just how much of my anger at you was because. Well. I don't know if you ever realized this, but I liked you. I LIKED-liked you. I was gonna ask you out after the Vytal Festival wrapped. I had this whole thing planned with a café and I was gonna throw confetti…and then next thing I knew, you were gone. It hurt because I was thinking about it like someone in love, or maybe just with a crush. Then, when I fell for someone else…it all got put into perspective. When I thought about you running away just as a friend, I could see why you might do it. And it was exactly what you told me. I just needed to hear it from you to be sure. I get it now. You wanted to keep Adam away from your friends. I might've done the same thing in your shoes. So…I do forgive you. And I'm sorry I threw such a tantrum over liking you. I still think you were wrong, but I get why."

"Yang…" Blake sighed. "I know I shouldn't tell you this, because it'll just make everything worse and more complicated, but if I don't say it now, then it's gonna be there and it's gonna make everything harder."

"Yeah?"

"If you'd asked me out after Vytal," Blake admitted, "if none of that had happened, if Beacon hadn't fallen…I would've said yes. Yang, I liked you SO much and I wasn't sure how to say it. I wasn't ready to jump into loving someone else again, not so soon after Adam, but you were everything he wasn't. You ARE everything he ISN'T. Ever since you put things into perspective about your mom and Torchwick – "

"By the way," Yang brought up, "how fucking ridiculous is it that HE'S back?"

"Extremely," Blake responded, cracking a smile. "But I guess that's just how it goes. But Yang, what I'm trying to say is…I still…I was hoping that when we met up again, we could…"

"Oh." Yang's face fell, and she looked out to the sun. "Blake, you know that can't happen, right?"

"I do, but…could it ever?"

Yang shook her head. "I'm not looking at Harley like something to cover for you. I LOVE her. Maybe in another life, if things had gone differently, it would've been us. But now…I don't care that it's not. That's why I'm not mad. Because all those feelings just don't matter anymore. Trust me, I would LOVE for you to find someone who's everything Adam isn't. But I just…I look at you and all I see is someone I want back in my life as a friend. I don't see the girl I had a thing for anymore. I see a girl somebody else is gonna be really lucky to get, but Blake, it's too LATE for you to think about. I'm happy, and I don't want what I have to end."

Blake blinked back tears. "I'm sorry. That was so selfish of me to ask. I just…"

"Hey." Yang had scooted closer to her. "Sometimes things just…don't work out the way we want. I'm not sorry I'm with someone else. I feel bad that you feel bad, but…the point is, I wanna be there for you the way friends are. So if you need space from me, or – "

"NO!" Blake yelled, a tear or two beginning to run down her face. "I want us to be friends, Yang. If we aren't gonna be dating, then…then I want to move on. I want to get over this. Because you and Weiss and Ruby were all the best friends I've ever known. You changed my LIFE. You took me from a scared alley-cat into a person with more to fight for than a cause. With something to run TO instead of away from. I don't want to lose that just because I screwed up, okay?" She sighed. "I'll move on. I promise."

"Well, now that I know you're on the market," Yang said slyly, "and now that I know your type, I'll be on the lookout for the perfect girl for you. Or guy." She paused. "Just ruling something out. Sun Wukong?"

"Friend," Blake told her. "I see him…well, like you see me. I think he might like me, but I'm just grateful for him. I don't feel like that about him. I guess I should figure out how to break that to him."

"Gotcha. The quest continues." Yang smiled softly to Blake. "You know what? I think we're gonna be okay."

"I do too," Blake admitted. "Soon as I stop crying."

"What happened is what happened. We'll figure it out." Yang extended her arms. "So, wanna hug it out or would that be too awkward?"

Blake responded by practically falling onto Yang, seizing her midsection, squeezing her tight. Yang wrapped her own arms around Blake in return.

...

Finally, the sunset was the one that heralded evening. The WHAM ARMY reconvened at Liquid Assets, which was practically filled to capacity, in order to rest on their laurels for the poster-hanging mission. After a mild party, they dispersed and went home, leaving only Rachel Inlustris and the Fearsome Four for cleanup. Then Megavolt and Quackerjack found an excuse to duck out early, and Liquidator claimed he had other duties to do to get ready for the next day's festival, so Rachel and Reginald Bushroot were the only two left. Bushroot kindly stayed long enough to help Rachel with the last of her closing duties.

At last, when the sky was dark blue with stripes of pink and gold peeking through from the west, Rachel and Bushroot left the building. The scientist hovered as Rachel used the keys to lock up.

"You w-w-w-want me to walk you home?" Bushroot asked.

"Nah," Rachel replied. "I'm actually feeling pretty good about things tonight. Only about ten percent afraid I'll get murdered in the street as opposed to the usual thirty."

"That's g-g-good!"

"I am SO hyped for tomorrow!" With a click, Rachel pulled the keys back to herself, stuffing them in a pocket.

"Yeah, it's g-gonna be pretty fun!" Bushroot agreed.

"Do me a favor, though?"

"What?"

"MAKE SURE THEY DON'T SLACK ON THE CATERING," Rachel growled.

"G-got it!" Bushroot saluted.

"See you tomorrow!" Rachel waved as she took off to catch a late tram to Station Square.

Bushroot waved until she was out of sight. Then set off for the crossing point the WHAM ARMY had arranged for him to get back from Twilight Town. A way to RTC, in a sense – a Corridor left open just for him.

In a way, it was a good thing he never made it there. Its location stayed secret.

A bag was shoved over his head from behind. The scent of a mildly intoxicating gas wafted from the canvas to Bushroot's beak, making him woozy. "W-w-w-what's going on?" he cried in panic, but his mind wasn't up to the reflexes needed to instantly summon his powers.

His arms were pulled roughly behind his back. Bound together with extremely cold shackles, as though someone had just solidified his limbs into a block of ice. That was exactly what had happened, he realized.

"If this is a j-joke," he cried out, "it isn't funny!"

His mind swam. Plants, he needed to call upon the plants to fight this, even if it was a prank –

He felt the radiating heat. Fire nearby. A warning. And a cold feminine voice said "I wouldn't fight back if I were you. Wouldn't want to be reduced to cinders, now, would we?"

"Can I stab him just once?" another voice asked sweetly.

"I think you've earned it," the first voice stated playfully.

"NO," another, more stern voice chimed in. "I need him intact. At least until after the festival. Then he's fair game."

"Such a delicate little flower," a fourth voice said as Bushroot struggled against his restraints, trying to back away from the flame. "But not blooming to its full potential. We can change that."

He was lifted and carried away, and no matter how he screamed for help, no one seemed to hear.

Fish, Gothel, Larxene, and Cinder had made sure to take to the underground concourse almost immediately because of that exact scenario. "I thought this was supposed to be the quiet one," Gothel scoffed.

"What do you wanna bet he is?" Larxene groaned. "Which means trying to take anyone else would be a pain. They'd scream until our ears threatened to go on strike."

Marluxia and Hugo awaited them in the underground laboratory. Marluxia nodded to their captive; "I see you were successful."

"Perfect," Hugo said, his voice dripping with excitement. "A fine seed to start from. This shall be one of my greatest creations."

Bushroot was slammed down into a chair, the icy cuffs melted off him by Cinder's fire, which came a little too close for his liking. His wrists were slapped into new, metal cuffs built into the arms of the chair, and his feet were restrained as well. All the same, he kept struggling.

"W-w-w-what're you gonna do to me?" he cried in terror. "I'm…I'm w-warning you! If you k-k-kill me, then M-M-Mozenrath will just find a way to bring me b-b-b-b-b-b-b-back!"

"Great." Larxene rolled her eyes. "The stuttering's getting worse. Marluxia, shut this thing up."

"Gladly." Marluxia nodded to Hugo. "Will you do the honors of setting the stage?"

"Of course." Hugo stepped over to a control panel, flipping switches and pressing buttons. There was a crackle of electricity. A great glass tube that went from floor to ceiling started to fill with sloshing green goop, and one could see little sparks jolting through it.

"We're well aware that killing you would just be a nuisance," Cinder told Bushroot. "That's why you're going to stay alive. In fact, we're going to keep you in the best shape you've ever been."

"Make no mistake," Fish added. "This isn't about just sending a message. You were chosen for a reason. Those powers of yours remind me of a precocious little girl back in Gotham. She, of course, had a spine and a will of her own, so she was never ideal for a subordinate. Too unpredictable. You, on the other hand, are so brittle that you're a cinch to break."

"You said I was g-g-gonna be in tip-top shape!" Bushroot protested. "Why would you b-b-b-break me?"
"Oh, my dear," Gothel said with a smirk. "Buds have to burst open in order for a flower to BLOOM."

"The mutagen is ready," Hugo stated. "Marluxia, you may proceed."

Marluxia gestured to the great glass tube, conducting the subsequent magic with a graceful hand. Mossy patches appeared on the tube, and then from them sprouted thorny vines like flexible rose-stems, curling outward to Bushroot.

The plant-duck cowered, struggling his last. To no avail. The vines pierced into his body, inordinately painful. Such a pain that a plant shouldn't have been able to feel to that degree. They'd done their homework when creating this one.

Slowly, the goop began to deplete from the tube. As Bushroot felt his insides burning, he realized the vines were tubes, carrying the goop into his system as stems might deliver nutrients to leaves. Whatever had been in Hugo's concoction, it was becoming part of him now.

Something inside of him was changing. A new feeling, big and ominous, bubbling up, as other parts felt rotten. Bushroot's eyes widened to their maximum; his mind was fogging.

Gothel began to sing: "Wither and decay…end this destiny…"

Enormous flower petals rose up from the floor, enveloping the chair. The vines rested in cracks between the petals as they closed like a young tulip.

"Break these earthly chains, and set this spirit free."

A green light shone from within the massive bud. It shuddered.

"Wither and decay!" Gothel sang on, louder this time. "End this destiny!"

The bud pulsated and quaked.

"Break these earthly chains!"

"Almost there…" Hugo remarked, keeping an eye on the fluid level in the tube. "Almost…"

Gothel threw her hands ceilingward; "AND SET THIS SPIRIT FREEEEEEEE!"

The bud fell still. Then split, its petals rotting as they curled away.

"This…spirit…free," Gothel finished as she smirked in the presence of the final product.

Bushroot sat still, looking hollow and empty. His eyes lacked pupils and his skin lacked color; he was a shade of putrid green-gray throughout. He seemed far gaunter. He lay back in the chair, beak parted.

"Nice job, Strange," Larxene sniffed. "He's DEAD."

"Wait for it," Marluxia cautioned.

Bushroot twitched. Then stirred.

"Well?" Cinder asked him.

He jolted in place, then let out an ear-splitting screech that practically shook the laboratory.

The floor cracked. Plants came spilling up through the fissures, growing wilder and thicker than should have been scientifically possible. Given five minutes alone, they would choke the lab.

"ENOUGH," Fish commanded. "Save it for the festival."

Bushroot tilted his head toward her, letting out a small warble. The plants halted in place, leaving Strange's lab a veritable jungle.

"Iiiiiiinteresting." Strange ran his hands over one of the new plants, which sported blood-red fruit pods. "Not only is it a success, but it has spawned several specimens that may prove…well, if I may, fruitful."

"I would like you to put a flower in Cinder's hair," Fish told Bushroot. "I think it would suit her."

With an eerie trill, Bushroot looked to Cinder. One of his initial plants rose higher, tucking itself behind Cinder's ear, tying itself in a knot to break itself off. The end by her face bloomed into fiery red-orange petals.

"Good," Fish remarked as Cinder plucked the flower from behind her ear. "You're obedient." She pressed a button beneath a table, and the restraints clicked open on the chair; the new and improved Bushroot stayed in place, awaiting orders.

Cinder turned the flower stem over in her fingers. "This is going to be satisfying," she said as she called a small flame to incinerate the little bloom, turning it to ash in her hand.

"What can possibly hurt an enemy more than a situation in which their own friend is a weapon against them?" Marluxia taunted.

"Now, that's an interesting hypothetical," Strange said.

"You just MADE that hypothetical come true!" Larxene barked.

"That I did," Strange confirmed. "And yet…I am already thinking of ways to take the concept beyond."

Bushroot gave a confused warble as he looked to Fish.

"Your time will come," she promised him. "Tomorrow, I'm going to show you what's practically a garden of opportunity."

"One that needs to be fertilized with blood," Marluxia added.

Bushroot's response screech was gleeful.